The next yacht, however, came away without Lord Buckhurst, and the young man did not return to England until after his father’s death. Shortly after his succession and return he married Elizabeth Colyear, his “dear, dear Colly,” and was appointed Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports at a salary of £160 a year, and Lieutenant of Dover Castle at £50. This is the menu and cost of the dinner given by the youthful Lord Warden at Dover Castle on the 16th August 1709 on his being appointed by Queen Anne:
| £ | s. | d. | ||
|---|---|---|---|---|
| 5 | Soups | 3 | 0 | 0 |
| 12 | dishes of fish | 10 | 16 | 0 |
| 1 | Westphalia Ham and five fowls | 1 | 6 | 0 |
| 8 | dishes of pullets and oysters, with bacon | 4 | 16 | 0 |
| 10 | Almond puddings | 3 | 0 | 0 |
| 12 | haunches of venison, roast | 1 | 16 | 0 |
| 6 | dishes of roast pigs | 2 | 2 | 0 |
| 3 | dishes of roast geese | 1 | 4 | 0 |
| 12 | Venison pasties | 6 | 0 | 0 |
| 12 | white Fragacies with Peetets | 7 | 4 | 0 |
| 8 | dishes of “ragged” veal | 4 | 16 | 0 |
| Second Course | ||||
| 14 | dishes of ducks, turkey, and pigeons | 8 | 0 | 0 |
| 15 | codlin tarts, creamed | 4 | 10 | 0 |
| 12 | dishes of roast lobster | 4 | 16 | 0 |
| 12 | dishes of umble pies | 4 | 4 | 0 |
| 10 | dishes of fried fish | 5 | 0 | 0 |
| 8 | dishes of Chickens and rabbits | 4 | 0 | 0 |
| Ryders | ||||
| 5 | dishes of dried sweetmeats | 17 | 10 | 0 |
| 12 | dishes of jelly | 4 | 16 | 0 |
| 6 | dishes of Selebub cream | 2 | 8 | 0 |
| 13 | dishes of fruit | 10 | 0 | 0 |
| 8 | dishes of Almond Pies gilt | 4 | 16 | 0 |
| 12 | dishes of Custard Florentines | 3 | 12 | 0 |
| 8 | dishes of lobster | 3 | 4 | 0 |
| 120 | Intermediate plates of sorts | 9 | 0 | 0 |
| Side-Table | ||||
| A large chine of beef stuck with flags and banners | 5 | 10 | 0 | |
| 1 loaf of double refined sugar | 0 | 4 | 6 | |
| Oil and vinegar | 0 | 3 | 0 | |
| Outcharges and expenses of pewter, carriage, bread, wharfage, turnspits, glasses, mugs, for ten men, horses, use of bakehouse, cooks, coach hire | 76 | 16 | 9 | |
This was an office he held intermittently for many years, and on one occasion, England being then at war with Spain, two hundred and fifty butts, eight hogsheads, and fifty quarter casks of Spanish mountain wine, and one hundred jars of Raisins of the Sun, being washed up at Deal and Sandwich, they were adjudged to him as the Lord Warden’s perquisite of flotsam and jetsam.
In 1714 died Queen Anne, and Lord Dorset, with others, was sent to Hanover to announce to George his accession to the English throne. He returned from Hanover with the new King, and drove with him in his coach from Greenwich to London. On the way George related that thirty-three years earlier he had travelled to England as a suitor for the hand of Queen Anne: returning to Gravesend after the failure of his mission, he rode a common post-horse, which gave him a fall, so that he arrived at Gravesend covered with mud. The King amused himself in the coach with looking out for the place where this misfortune had come upon him, and pointed it out to Lord Dorset, who no doubt joined politely in the laughter.
Thus began that curious reign of a King who did not know the language of his adopted country, who spent as much time in his Hanoverian as in his English estates, and infinitely preferred them, who surrounded himself with German courtiers and mistresses, and who locked up his wife for two-and-thirty years as a punishment for her infidelity. The solemnity of Lord Dorset cannot have been out of place in such a court. Honours now crowded rapidly upon him, although at one moment he was temporarily deprived of all his offices for taking part in political intrigues. He was made a Knight of the Garter, six years later he was made a duke, he was given the office of Lord Steward, and finally he entered upon the first lap of his unfortunate career as Lord Lieutenant of Ireland. Before this, however, he was for the second time called upon to be the bearer of news of accession to a King of England. I give the account in Lord George’s words:
When the intelligence of his [George I’s] decease, which took place near Osnabrugh, in the end of July 1727, arrived in London, the Cabinet having immediately met, thought proper to dispatch the Duke of Dorset with the news to the Prince of Wales. He then resided at Kew, in a state of great alienation from the King, the two Courts maintaining no communication. Some little time being indispensable to enable my father to appear in a suitable manner before the new monarch, he sent forward the Duchess his wife, in order to announce the event. She arrived at Kew just as the Prince, according to his invariable custom, having undressed himself after dinner, had laid down in bed. The Duchess demanding permission to see him immediately, on business of the greatest importance, the servants acquainted the Princess of Wales with her arrival; and the Duchess, without a moment’s hesitation, informed her Royal Highness, that George the First lay dead at Osnabrugh, that the Cabinet had ordered her husband to be the bearer of the intelligence to his successor, and that the Duke would follow her in a short time. She added that not a moment should be lost in communicating so great an event to the Prince, as the Ministers wished him to come up to London that same evening, in order to summon a Privy Council, to issue a proclamation, and take other requisite measures, at the commencement of a new reign.
To the propriety of all these steps the Princess assented; but at the same time informed the Duchess, that she could not venture to enter her husband’s room, as he had only just taken off his clothes and composed himself to sleep. “Besides,” added she, “the Prince will not give credit to the intelligence, but will exclaim that it is a fabrication, designed for the purpose of exposing him.” The Duchess continued nevertheless to remonstrate with her Royal Highness, on the injurious consequences of losing time, and adding that the Duke of Dorset would expect to find the Prince not only apprised of it, but ready to accompany him to London. The Princess of Wales took off her shoes, opened the chamber door softly, and advanced up to the bedside, while my mother remained at the threshold, till she should be allowed to enter the apartment. As soon as the Princess came near the bed, a voice from under the clothes cried out in German, Was ist das? “I am come, sir,” answered she, “to announce to you the death of the King, which has taken place in Germany.” “That is one damned trick,” returned the Prince, “I do not believe one word of it.” “Sir,” said the Princess, “it is most certain. The Duchess of Dorset has just brought the intelligence, and the Duke will be here immediately. The Ministers hope that you will repair to town this very evening, as your presence there is indispensable.” Her Royal Highness then threw herself on her knees, to kiss the new King’s hand; and beckoning to the Duchess of Dorset to advance, she came in likewise, knelt down, and assured him of the indisputable truth of his father’s decease. Convinced at length of the fact, he consented to get up and dress himself. The Duke of Dorset arriving in his coach and six, almost immediately afterwards, George the Second quitted Kew the same evening for London.
George the Second, as Prince of Wales, had been on terms of personal friendship with the duke. He had stayed at Knole, when half an ox, four sheep, and a calf were provided, besides the following items for his visit:
| £ | s. | d. | |
|---|---|---|---|
| Butcher | 17 | 0 | 0 |
| Bread and flour | 4 | 0 | 0 |
| Fowls, butter and eggs | 14 | 15 | 0 |
| Poulterer | 11 | 14 | 0 |
| Fishmonger | 9 | 4 | 0 |
| Confectioner | 25 | 10 | 0 |
| Wine | 66 | 0 | 0 |
| Beer | 35 | 0 | 0 |
| Master-cook’s bill | 20 | 9 | 0 |
| To the cooks | 37 | 12 | 6 |
| The pewterer | 3 | 12 | 4 |
| The carrier | 9 | 0 | 0 |
| Lord Lumley’s Grenadiers | 3 | 4 | 6 |
| £257 | 1 | 4 |
The duke’s first essay in Ireland was not unsuccessful: he left affairs alone as far as he possibly could and was tolerably popular. It was only the second time, twenty years later, that he and Lord George incurred so much dislike. Into the political reasons for this I have already said that I will not, because I cannot, enter; I will only quote from a curious lampoon, preserved in the British Museum, which was written to celebrate the duke’s departure in 1754: