The Prince and the Quakeress: (Georgian Series) (32 page)

‘Thank you, Mr Pitt,’ he said, ‘but I shall give my own orders and am on my way to London to do so. I suggest that you get into your carriage and follow us.’

Pitt was amazed. He had expected to ride with the King into London. He had thought the young man would naturally have turned to him for guidance. Moreover, it was the custom for the King’s ministers to advise the King; and here was this boy – twenty-two and young for his years – telling the Great Commoner himself that he had no need of his services.

For once Pitt was at a loss for words. He bowed; got into his carriage and while the King and his dear friend Lord Bute rode on towards London, Mr Pitt had no help for it but to get into his carriage and follow.

Bute was laughing with glee as they rode along.

‘I fancy Mr Pitt is very surprised. He thought Your Majesty would almost fall on your knees before him. He has to be shown his place.’

‘We will show him,’ said George.

‘His position is not exactly a happy one,’ smiled Bute, ‘for although he has taken power into his hands it is still that dolt Newcastle who is the nominal head of the government. That will make it easier. Your Majesty should summon Newcastle… not Pitt. Then our arrogant gentleman will realize that Your Majesty has no intention of being ruled by him.’

Indeed not! thought George. He would not be ruled by anyone. He was King. It was what he had been born for… reared for… and now he had reached that high eminence.

He looked at the countryside with tears in his eyes. His land! These people whom he saw here and there, did not know it yet, but they had a King who was going to concern himself only with their welfare. He was going to make this a great and happy country. He and his Queen would set an example of morality which would take the place of all the profligacy which had darkened the country before.

His Queen. He saw her clearly beside him. The loveliest girl in the kingdom – who but the Lady Sarah Lennox?

*

Pitt, regarding the new King’s strange behaviour on the road as youthful arrogance and uncertainty, arranged for the first meeting of the Privy Council to be held at Savile House. Meanwhile George, under Lord Bute’s direction, had sent for the Duke of Newcastle to wait on him at Leicester House.

There the new King told Newcastle that he had always had a good opinion of him and he knew his zeal for his grandfather and he believed that zeal would be extended to him.

Newcastle expressed his pleasure and was looking forward to telling Pitt that their fears regarding the new King were unfounded, when George said: ‘My Lord Bute is your good friend. He will tell you my thoughts.’

Newcastle was bewildered. He had always known of the young King’s fondness for Bute, but he could not believe it would be carried as far as this. He might regard the Scotsman as a parent, but surely he realized the heights to which Pitt had carried the country.

He left the King’s presence and went to see Pitt to impart his misgivings to him.

Pitt agreed that the King’s conduct was extraordinary.

‘But we must not forget,’ he reminded Newcastle, ‘that he has been ill-prepared for his destiny. When he is made aware of the position he will be easy enough to handle. I have prepared the speech he is to make to the Council and was about to leave to see him now.’

‘I will await your return with some misgivings,’ the Duke told him.

*

Pitt bowed before the King.

He smiled and went on to say that he doubted not the King knew the procedure on occasions such as the present – ‘of which, Your Majesty, there have been many in our history’.

‘I am acquainted with the procedure,’ said George coolly, for Bute had told him that the only way to deal with Mr Pitt was to refuse to see him as the great man Mr Pitt believed himself to be. Pitt was the King’s minister and he had to be made to see that he was not the King. ‘A misapprehension,’ added Lord Bute, ‘that his manner would suggest he deludes himself into believing.’

‘I guessed Your Majesty would be, and I have prepared your
speech. Perhaps you would look over it and give it your approval?’

George replied as Bute had suggested he should, because Bute had known that Pitt would present himself and his speech at the earliest possible moment. In fact Bute had already prepared the speech, so George had no need of Mr Pitt’s literary efforts.

‘I have already viewed this subject with attention,’ said the King, ‘and have prepared what I shall say at the Council table.’

Pitt was astonished. Ministers had grown accustomed to the indifference of Hanoverian kings to the traditions of English monarchy. And here was a boy – twenty-two years old – flying in the face of custom.

‘Your Majesty would no doubt allow me to glance over what you intend to say.’

George hesitated. Bute had not advised him on this point. He said: ‘Er… yes, Mr Pitt. You may see it.’ And going to a drawer he produced the speech.

Mr Pitt cast his eyes over it and when he came to the phrase ‘. . . and as I mount the throne in the midst of a bloody and expensive war I shall endeavour to prosecute it in the manner most likely to bring an honourable peace…’ Mr Pitt paused; his eyes opened wide and a look of horror spread over his face.

‘Your Majesty, this cannot be said.’

George was alarmed, but he endeavoured to follow Bute’s instructions and preserve an aloof coldness.

‘Sire, this war is necessary to our country’s well-being. Our conquests have raised us from a country of no importance to a world power. I recall Lord Bute’s writing to me a few years ago when he deplored the state of our country in which he saw the wreck of the crown. Lord Bute was right then, Sire. Later he was congratulating me on our successes and thanking God that I was at the helm. I venture to think his lordship cannot have changed his mind since his hopes in my endeavours have not proved in vain. This war is bloody, Sire. All wars are bloody. It is not unduly expensive, for in spite of its outlay in men and money it is bringing in such rewards, Sire, as England never possessed before. You will not be a King merely; you will be an Emperor… when India and America are yours. And believe me, Sire, there is untold wealth, untold glory, to come your way. So I beg of you do not rail in your first speech as King
against a bloody and expensive war.’ George was about to speak, but Pitt held up a hand and without Lord Bute at his side to guide him George could only listen. ‘One thing more I am sure Your Majesty has overlooked. You have allies. Are you going to make a peace without consulting them? Believe me, Sire, that if you use these words in your first speech to your Council you will do irreparable harm to yourself and your country.’

‘You are very vehement, Mr Pitt.’

‘Not more so, Sire, than the occasion requires. Now, will you allow me to advise you on this one sentence. The rest of your speech stands as it is written. It is well enough. But this sentence must be adjusted. Now allow me… Instead of “bloody and expensive war which I shall endeavour to prosecute in the manner most likely to bring an honourable peace… ” we will say “ . . . an expensive but just and necessary war. I shall endeavour to prosecute it in a manner most likely to bring an honourable and lasting peace, in concert with my allies.” Now, will Your Majesty agree?’

George hesitated. He saw the point. It was true that Mr Pitt was leading the country to a position it had never before attained. But Lord Bute had said they must do without Mr Pitt because Mr Pitt would not be content to work under their direction. Mr Pitt would want to rule and lead them. All the same, there was something about the man which made it impossible to rebuff him.

‘I will consider it,’ said George haughtily.

Mr Pitt bowed and left.

It is the Scotsman who was trying to influence the King, thought Pitt. We shall have to delegate him to some position with a high-sounding name to hide its insignificance.

Without that evil genius George might be moulded into a fair shape of a King.

*

In a room at Carlton House the Archbishop of Canterbury received the members of the Privy Council when he solemnly informed them of an event which they already knew had taken place: George II was dead and they were assembled here to greet the new King, George III.

George, who had been in an antechamber waiting to be summoned, then came in.

In his hand he carried the speech he would deliver – his first as King of England. As he came to the Council Chamber his eyes met those of Mr Pitt. The minister’s were steely; he was wondering whether George would take his advice and change the speech which Bute had written. When he had been with the King he had been sure he would; but after speaking to Newcastle and talking together of the influence Bute had on the new King – and on his mother who also wielded great influence with the young man – he was a little uneasy.

He felt that what happened in the next few moments would be an indication and he would be able to plan accordingly.

Of one thing Pitt was certain; Bute would have to be relegated to the background, and the sooner the better.

George addressed his Council. At least, thought Pitt, they have taught him to speak. The new King enunciated perfectly – trained by actors. How different from his grandfather with his comical English, and his great-grandfather who couldn’t speak a word of the language!

There were great possibilities in George, Pitt decided. A young King could be an asset, providing he were malleable and had good ministers. This was a situation which Mr Pitt was sure prevailed but unfortunately there was Lord Bute… like a black shadow, an evil genius to undo all the good the auguries promised without him.

The King had started to speak: ‘The loss that I and the nation have sustained by the death of my grandfather would have been severely felt at any time; but coming at so critical a juncture and so unexpectedly, it is by many circumstances augmented, and the weight now falling on me much increased. I feel my own insufficiency to support it as I wish; but animated by the tenderest affection for my native country, and by depending upon the advice, experience and abilities of your lordships; on the support of every honest man; I enter with cheerfulness into the arduous situation, and shall make it the business of my life to promote in every thing, the glory and happiness of these kingdoms, to preserve and strengthen the constitution in both church and state; and as I mount the throne in the midst of an
expensive, but just and necessary war I shall endeavour to prosecute it in a manner most likely to bring an honourable and lasting peace, in concert with my allies
.’

Listening intently, Mr Pitt permitted himself a slow smile of triumph.

*

In the streets the people were still rejoicing. The old man was dead, and in his place was a young and handsome boy, who had been born and bred in England – a real Englishman this time, said the people. This was an end of the Germans.

There was feasting in the eating houses and drinking in the taverns and dancing round the bonfires in the streets. They knew what this meant. A coronation; that meant a holiday and a real chance to celebrate. And then there’d be a marriage, for the King was a young man and would need a wife.

This was a change, when for so long the only excitements had been the victory parades. It was stimulating to sing
Rule Britannia,
but wars meant something besides victories. They meant taxation, and men lost to the battle. But a coronation, a royal wedding… they were good fun. Dancing, singing, drinking… free wine doubtless… and sly jokes about the young married pair.

Now the people had their King they wanted a bride for him.

Pitt was congratulating himself over the matter of the speech. Bute would be an encumbrance; they would have to deal tactfully with him, but they would manage.

It was a shock when the day after George had been proclaimed King at Savile House, Charing Cross, Temple Bar, Cheapside and the Royal Exchange, to learn that the new King’s first act was to appoint his brother Edward and Lord Bute Privy Councillors.

‘There will be trouble,’ said Pitt. ‘Bute is going to make a bid for power. But I can handle him. The only thing I fear is that the King, through that fool Bute, will try to interfere with my conduct of the war.’

The war! It was Pitt’s chief concern. As long as everything went well on the battle-front, as long as he could succeed in his plans for building an Empire, events at home could take care of themselves.

*

At seven o’clock in the evening of a dark November day George II was buried in Henry VII’s chapel at Westminster.

The chamber was hung with purple, and silver lamps had
been placed at intervals to disperse the gloom. Under a canopy of purple velvet stood the coffin. Six silver chandeliers had been placed about it and the effect was impressive.

The procession to the chapel was accompanied by muffled drums and fifes and the bells tolled continuously. The horse-guards wore crepe sashes and as their horses slowly walked through the crowds their riders drew their sabres and a hush fell on all those who watched.

Perhaps the most sincere mourner was William, Duke of Cumberland. He was in a sad state himself, for soon after he had lost the command of the army he had had a stroke of the palsy which had affected his features. Newcastle was beside him – a contrast with his plump figure and ruddy good looks. He was pretending to be deeply affected, but was in fact considering what effect the King’s very obvious devotion to Lord Bute was going to have on his career.

He wept ostentatiously – or pretended to – and as soon as he entered the Chapel groped his way to one of the stalls, implying that he was overcome by his grief; but he was soon watching the people through his quizzing glass to see who had come, until feeling the chill of the chapel he began to fret that he might catch cold.

‘The cold strikes right through one’s feet,’ he whispered to Pitt who was beside him.

Pitt did not answer; he was thinking how unfortunate it was that the old King had not lived a year or so longer to give him the security of tenure he needed. But it was absurd to fear; no one could oust Pitt from his position. Whatever Bute said the King would realize the impossibility of that. The people would never allow it for one thing. No, he had nothing to fear.