The King's Mistress: The True & Scandalous Story of the Woman Who Stole the Heart of George I by Claudia Gold Page B
Authors: Claudia Gold
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Hanoverian king.
The Prussian envoy Bonet, in a private report for George’s daughter and son-in-law, described the awkwardness George felt at being on ‘show’. George, he reported to his master:
is not seen at his lever, nor at his dinner, nor at his supper, nor at his coucher. Only during some minutes is he seen as he returns from the chapel, and this by stopping in a passageway to the chamber, which is lined on one side and the other with a double hedge of courtiers who touch all walls, of the type of whom there are not ten people of whose faces he takes note, and to whom he might speak . . . As His Majesty never appears in public, one may not speak to him of business except in a formal audience . . .
Bonet, shocked that a monarch could be so reticent about showing himself to his people, continued:
Withdrawn into his palace of St. James, rather into one room and one cabinet, the other apartments being for the Courtiers, His Majesty never ventured out to Kensington, to Hampton Court or to Windsor, which are spacious, more commodious, and which have a more royal air. In this room, he slept and ate, and in the neighbouring cabinet he gave audiences. He has made no plan to designate certain days for business, and others for recreation and for the examination of those who are presented to him in audiences.
He goes on to observe that English courtiers rarely had the opportunity to get near their king: ‘He had established some lords as his Gentlemen of the Bedchamber, who would have served at table, and some other lesser gentlemen to dress him, but he never wanted to receive the services of either one or the other, and he wanted to receive only the service of his Turks and of his German valets de chambre.’
George, he continues:
stayed alone every morning in this chamber until midday when he passed into the cabinet in order to give audiences to the ministers of State of the two nations until two o’clock, when he went to his table for dinner; after dinner, he walked alone in the Garden of St. James, or he went to the rooms of the duchess of Munster, and in the evening to the circle of the Princess [Caroline], until midnight, or else to the opera, where he went incognito in a hired chaise, or to the rooms of Madame de Kielmansegge [Sophia Charlotte] . . . and it happened very rarely that his ministers of State spoke to him in the afternoons.
Both George and Melusine had brought their trusted servants from Hanover, and they very much kept to their inner circle – the girls, the extended family and old friends. If anything Melusine, during the early years of the reign, was more gregarious than George, ensuring that she visited and received the noblewomen who could be useful to the king, and taking outings with her daughters.
Two of George’s servants served to excite the most interest: the Turks Mehemet and Mustapha, who had served George in Hanover. As a trusted friend and confidant, Mustapha was party to his most private disappointments and pleasures. We know of George’s pitiful despair over his sister Figuelotte’s death, forexample, only because Mehemet told Mary Countess Cowper, a Lady of the Bedchamber to Caroline and the wife of William Cowper, George’s Lord Chancellor, and a prolific keeper of her diary, who recorded it. This scene provides us with an image of George as a man of passion, far removed from the taciturn soldier of the popular imagination.
Coxe, the early biographer of Robert Walpole, comments on the importance of these Turkish servants: ‘Their influence over their master was so great, that their names are mentioned in a dispatch of Count Broglio to the King of France, as possessing a large share of the King’s confidence.’ He continued: ‘These low foreigners obtained considerable sums of money for recommendations to places.’
Nor did their influence escape Alexander Pope, who mentioned Mehemet in his Moral Essays , ‘Epistle II, to a lady’:
From peer or bishop ’tis no easy
The Prussian envoy Bonet, in a private report for George’s daughter and son-in-law, described the awkwardness George felt at being on ‘show’. George, he reported to his master:
is not seen at his lever, nor at his dinner, nor at his supper, nor at his coucher. Only during some minutes is he seen as he returns from the chapel, and this by stopping in a passageway to the chamber, which is lined on one side and the other with a double hedge of courtiers who touch all walls, of the type of whom there are not ten people of whose faces he takes note, and to whom he might speak . . . As His Majesty never appears in public, one may not speak to him of business except in a formal audience . . .
Bonet, shocked that a monarch could be so reticent about showing himself to his people, continued:
Withdrawn into his palace of St. James, rather into one room and one cabinet, the other apartments being for the Courtiers, His Majesty never ventured out to Kensington, to Hampton Court or to Windsor, which are spacious, more commodious, and which have a more royal air. In this room, he slept and ate, and in the neighbouring cabinet he gave audiences. He has made no plan to designate certain days for business, and others for recreation and for the examination of those who are presented to him in audiences.
He goes on to observe that English courtiers rarely had the opportunity to get near their king: ‘He had established some lords as his Gentlemen of the Bedchamber, who would have served at table, and some other lesser gentlemen to dress him, but he never wanted to receive the services of either one or the other, and he wanted to receive only the service of his Turks and of his German valets de chambre.’
George, he continues:
stayed alone every morning in this chamber until midday when he passed into the cabinet in order to give audiences to the ministers of State of the two nations until two o’clock, when he went to his table for dinner; after dinner, he walked alone in the Garden of St. James, or he went to the rooms of the duchess of Munster, and in the evening to the circle of the Princess [Caroline], until midnight, or else to the opera, where he went incognito in a hired chaise, or to the rooms of Madame de Kielmansegge [Sophia Charlotte] . . . and it happened very rarely that his ministers of State spoke to him in the afternoons.
Both George and Melusine had brought their trusted servants from Hanover, and they very much kept to their inner circle – the girls, the extended family and old friends. If anything Melusine, during the early years of the reign, was more gregarious than George, ensuring that she visited and received the noblewomen who could be useful to the king, and taking outings with her daughters.
Two of George’s servants served to excite the most interest: the Turks Mehemet and Mustapha, who had served George in Hanover. As a trusted friend and confidant, Mustapha was party to his most private disappointments and pleasures. We know of George’s pitiful despair over his sister Figuelotte’s death, forexample, only because Mehemet told Mary Countess Cowper, a Lady of the Bedchamber to Caroline and the wife of William Cowper, George’s Lord Chancellor, and a prolific keeper of her diary, who recorded it. This scene provides us with an image of George as a man of passion, far removed from the taciturn soldier of the popular imagination.
Coxe, the early biographer of Robert Walpole, comments on the importance of these Turkish servants: ‘Their influence over their master was so great, that their names are mentioned in a dispatch of Count Broglio to the King of France, as possessing a large share of the King’s confidence.’ He continued: ‘These low foreigners obtained considerable sums of money for recommendations to places.’
Nor did their influence escape Alexander Pope, who mentioned Mehemet in his Moral Essays , ‘Epistle II, to a lady’:
From peer or bishop ’tis no easy
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