The King's Mistress: The True & Scandalous Story of the Woman Who Stole the Heart of George I by Claudia Gold Page A
Authors: Claudia Gold
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comparable to our own fascination with celebrity. Court notices, with their accompanying descriptions of the royal family, the aristocracy and other ‘persons of note’, were today’s equivalent of gossip columns, recording the appointments, the illnesses, the parties and the holidays of the major characters. For example, on 18 May 1722 the Daily Journal reported: ‘On Tuesday the Duchess of Kendal gave a magnificent entertainment to most of the Foreign Ministers etc at her apartment in St James’s House.’ The same column, reflecting what typically economically minded and sensation-hungry Londoners wanted, lists stock prices and convicted criminals to be executed the following Monday:
Yesterday the dead warrant came to Newgate for the execution of the following malefactors on Monday next at Tyburn, viz; John Bootini, a youth, for a rape on a young girl, and giving her the foul disease, Thomas Smith alias Newcomb for felony and burglary, Leonard Hendry for felony, Jeremiah Rand for a street robbery, Richard Whittingham for felony and burglary. John Hawkins and George Simpson for robbing the Bristol Mail; the two last are afterwards to be hanged in chains near the place where they committed the acts . . .
But if the British aristocracy and gossip-hungry Londoners expected George and Melusine to head a more exciting court, they were to be disappointed. A newsletter dated 4 September 1714 happily speculated: ‘His Majesty brings with him 17 sets of fine coach horses. We hear the king will keep here a noble and splendid court.’ 6 But Melusine and George, immensely private, did all they could to avoid the trappings of kingship.
George and Melusine always preferred the intimacy of family life and close friends to a large and impersonal court, and this desire strengthened as they grew older. Melusine had begun to correspond with various English women whose husbands were important politically while still in Germany, and she created a good impression with all who knew her personally. But she was far more comfortable in informal surroundings, presiding over small dinner parties, attending the opera with her daughters or one or two ladies, or drinking coffee in her rooms. The newspapers are full of reports of outings to the opera or theatre with one of her ‘nieces’, and she was in the habit of spending evenings with just one or two ladies. Lady Bristol, one of Caroline’s Ladies of the Bedchamber, for example, wrote in her diary of seeing a great deal of Melusine in 1715. ‘I go to the opera a Saturday with Madam Shulenberg and her niece . . .’ she reported, and later in the year: ‘I went to court, where I was received more graciously than ordinary. And stayed till three a clock, and am to be at half an hour after four with Madam Shulenburg to drink coffee before we go together to the opera . . .’ 7
Similarly the conscientious George took his duties to the state extremely seriously. But as far as he was concerned those duties did not include providing entertainment for his courtiers and visiting dignitaries. He would provide no public spectacle with a levee and a coucher – the public putting to bed and getting up of the monarch – open to high-ranking courtiers, and he refused to dine in public.
Some English sovereigns had been happy to receive courtiers and ministers in their bedchamber – George was not. Instead he received them in a private closet beside his bedchamber. Entrance was strictly controlled and by arrangement with his Gentlemen of the Bedchamber only. Even peers must wait their turn.
George, if not exactly a misanthrope, only desired the companyof trusted friends, family and servants. He saw the frivolities associated with monarchy as distractions from the business of government and he did his utmost to avoid them. English courtiers and foreign observers obviously thought his habits strange. Even the dying Queen Anne, they muttered, had kept a court more fitting to monarchy than this new
Yesterday the dead warrant came to Newgate for the execution of the following malefactors on Monday next at Tyburn, viz; John Bootini, a youth, for a rape on a young girl, and giving her the foul disease, Thomas Smith alias Newcomb for felony and burglary, Leonard Hendry for felony, Jeremiah Rand for a street robbery, Richard Whittingham for felony and burglary. John Hawkins and George Simpson for robbing the Bristol Mail; the two last are afterwards to be hanged in chains near the place where they committed the acts . . .
But if the British aristocracy and gossip-hungry Londoners expected George and Melusine to head a more exciting court, they were to be disappointed. A newsletter dated 4 September 1714 happily speculated: ‘His Majesty brings with him 17 sets of fine coach horses. We hear the king will keep here a noble and splendid court.’ 6 But Melusine and George, immensely private, did all they could to avoid the trappings of kingship.
George and Melusine always preferred the intimacy of family life and close friends to a large and impersonal court, and this desire strengthened as they grew older. Melusine had begun to correspond with various English women whose husbands were important politically while still in Germany, and she created a good impression with all who knew her personally. But she was far more comfortable in informal surroundings, presiding over small dinner parties, attending the opera with her daughters or one or two ladies, or drinking coffee in her rooms. The newspapers are full of reports of outings to the opera or theatre with one of her ‘nieces’, and she was in the habit of spending evenings with just one or two ladies. Lady Bristol, one of Caroline’s Ladies of the Bedchamber, for example, wrote in her diary of seeing a great deal of Melusine in 1715. ‘I go to the opera a Saturday with Madam Shulenberg and her niece . . .’ she reported, and later in the year: ‘I went to court, where I was received more graciously than ordinary. And stayed till three a clock, and am to be at half an hour after four with Madam Shulenburg to drink coffee before we go together to the opera . . .’ 7
Similarly the conscientious George took his duties to the state extremely seriously. But as far as he was concerned those duties did not include providing entertainment for his courtiers and visiting dignitaries. He would provide no public spectacle with a levee and a coucher – the public putting to bed and getting up of the monarch – open to high-ranking courtiers, and he refused to dine in public.
Some English sovereigns had been happy to receive courtiers and ministers in their bedchamber – George was not. Instead he received them in a private closet beside his bedchamber. Entrance was strictly controlled and by arrangement with his Gentlemen of the Bedchamber only. Even peers must wait their turn.
George, if not exactly a misanthrope, only desired the companyof trusted friends, family and servants. He saw the frivolities associated with monarchy as distractions from the business of government and he did his utmost to avoid them. English courtiers and foreign observers obviously thought his habits strange. Even the dying Queen Anne, they muttered, had kept a court more fitting to monarchy than this new
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