But the avarice of all these was as nothing compared with that of the mistresses, Schulemburg and Kielmansegge, who were now nicknamed the “Maypole” and the “Elephant” respectively. These ladies were sumptuously lodged in St. James’s Palace, but their suites of rooms were situated far apart, with King George between them, a wise precaution, as they hated one another with an intense and jealous hatred. Of the two, Schulemburg had immeasurably more influence, and, consequently, far greater opportunities of amassing a fortune. She was brazen and shameless in her greed for gold. When, as a protest against the arrest of his son-in-law Sir William Wyndham in 1715, the Duke of Somerset, the proudest nobleman in England, and the premier Protestant duke, resigned the Mastership of the Horse, Schulemburg had the impudence to propose that the office should be left vacant and the revenues given to her. To every one’s disgust, the King consented and handed over to her the profits of this appointment, amounting to £7,500 a year. Schulemburg was a veritable daughter of the horse-leech, always crying “Give, give,” and it says very little for English morals or honesty to find that, much as she was despised, her apartments at St. James’s Palace were crowded by some of the first of the Whig nobility, and not only they, but their wives and daughters paid the mistress their court.
The Princess of Wales always treated Schulemburg with politeness, and recognised the peculiar relationship which existed between her and the King. Towards Kielmansegge she was not so complaisant, and when, shortly after her arrival in England, that lady prayed to be received by the Princess, Caroline sent word to say that “in these matters things go by age, and she must, therefore, receive the oldest first,” namely, Schulemburg. Caroline had a strong dislike to Kielmansegge, whom she regarded as a most mischievous woman, and declared that “she never even stuck a pin in her gown without some object”. Kielmansegge did not get nearly so many perquisites as her companion in iniquity. Incidentally she secured a prize, such as a sum of £500 from one Chetwynd for obtaining for him an appointment in the Board of Trade, with the additional sum of £200 per annum as long as he held it. This was rather a heavy tax upon his salary, but as the appointment was a sinecure, and Chetwynd quite incompetent to fill it even if it had not been, he was content to get it on any terms. The indignation of the people was especially directed against these two women. The English people had been accustomed by the Stuarts to royal mistresses; they could forgive the Hanoverian women their want of morals, and even their avarice had they kept it within bounds; but they could not forgive their lack of beauty, and when they set out in the King’s coaches to take the air, they were often greeted with jeers and yells. On one of these occasions, when the crowd was more than usually offensive, Schulemburg, who had picked up a little English by this time, thrust her painted face out of the window of the coach and cried: “Goot pipple what for you abuse us, we come for all your goots?” “Yes, damn ye,” shouted a fellow in the crowd, “and for all our chattels too.”
LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU.
(IN EASTERN DRESS.)
There were two more members of this strange household who incurred their share of odium, the King’s Turks, Mustapha and Mahomet, who alone were admitted into the royal bedchamber to dress and undress the monarch—duties which until this reign had been performed by English officers of the household appointed by the King. These Turks, although occupying so humble a position, were paid much court to, and were able to acquire a considerable sum of money by doing a trade in minor appointments about the royal household, such as places for pages, cooks, grooms, and so forth.
The King, who disliked state and ceremonial, after the first year of his reign appeared at the drawing-rooms at St. James’s only for a brief time, leaving the honours to be done by the Princess of Wales. He liked best to spend his evenings quietly in the apartments of one of his mistresses, smoking a pipe and drinking German beer, or playing ombre or quadrille for small sums. To these parties few English were ever invited. “The King of England,” says the Count de Broglie, “has no predilection for the English nation, and never receives in private any English of either sex.”[58] But to this rule there were two notable exceptions. One was the younger Craggs, and the other Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, whose beauty and vivacity, and free and easy manners and conversation, made her peculiarly acceptable to Schulemburg and the King.
Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, who was the eldest daughter of the wealthy and profligate Duke of Kingston, was one of the most remarkable women of her time. Her upbringing had given an impetus to her natural originality; she had lost her mother when she was a child, and had grown up under the care of her father, who made much of her, but who was far from a judicious guardian. As a girl Lady Mary was allowed to run wild among the stables and kennels, but her sense and thirst for knowledge prevented her from abusing her freedom. She read widely anything and everything, taught herself Latin, and acquired a thorough knowledge of Greek and French. Her father was very proud of her, and proposed her as a toast to the famous Kit-Cat club, at one of their festive gatherings at a tavern in the Strand. The members demurred on the ground that they had never seen her. “Then you shall!” said the duke with an oath, and he forthwith sent his man home to say that Lady Mary was to be dressed in her best and brought to him at once. The child, for she was then only eight years old, was received with acclamations by the assembled company whom she delighted with her ready answers; her health was drunk with enthusiasm, and her name engraved upon the glasses. Lady Mary afterwards declared that this was the proudest moment of her life; she was passed from the knee of a poet to the arms of a statesman, and toasted by some of the most eminent men in England. While she was still quite young Lady Mary fell in love with Edward Wortley Montagu, who was a young man of good presence, good family, well mannered and well educated. She was never much in love with him, and she showed herself quite alive to his defects, but she clung to him with a curious persistency. The old duke peremptorily forbade the marriage, but after many difficulties Wortley Montagu persuaded Lady Mary to elope with him, and they were privately married by special licence.
When George the First came to the throne Wortley Montagu, who was a Whig, obtained, through the patronage of his powerful friends, a lordship of the Treasury. The duties of his office brought him to London, and his wife came with him. Her wit, beauty and originality made a sensation at the early drawing-rooms of George the First. With all her charms there was in Lady Mary a vein of coarseness, the result no doubt of her upbringing, which made her particularly sympathetic to the coarse and sensual King. He talked with her, admired her French, and admitted her into his special intimacy, though there is nothing to show that he entertained any feelings for her beyond those of paternal friendship for a young and beautiful girl, for she was then little more. But the Prince of Wales, who fancied himself a great gallant, soon began to pay her marked attention. His admiration was open and confessed, and one evening when she appeared at Court radiant in her beauty and splendidly attired, he was so struck with admiration that he called to the Princess, who was playing cards in the next room, to come and see how beautifully Lady Mary was dressed. The Princess, though the most complaisant of wives, objected to being interrupted in her game to look at the beauty of another woman, and so with a shrug of her shoulders she merely answered: “Lady Mary always dresses well,” and went on with her cards. It was soon found impossible by the courtiers at St. James’s to maintain the favour of both the King and the Prince; they had to choose between one and the other, and Lady Mary was no exception to the rule. The favour shown her by the King soon earned her the dislike of the Prince of Wales, a matter about which she was indifferent, as she had no liking for him. She distrusted him, and declared that “he looked on all men and women he saw as creatures he might kick or kiss for his diversion”. Of the two she preferred his sire, whom she credited with being passively good-natured. She, alone among English ladies, enjoyed the card parties and beer-drinkings in the King’s private apartments, with Schulemburg and Kielmansegge. She and the younger Craggs, who could talk French and German well, and who was rather a favourite of Schulemburg’s, often went to make a four at cards with Schulemburg and the King, and passed many a pleasant evening, according to their tastes, in this wise.
Lady Mary relates an amusing incident which happened at one of these royal parties. She was commanded to appear one evening, and went as in duty bound, but she explained to Schulemburg that she had a particular reason for wishing to leave early, and prayed her to ask the King’s leave. George, who disliked to have his parties broken up, remonstrated, but finding the lady anxious to go, gave her leave to depart. But when she rose he returned to the point, saying many other complimentary things, which she answered in a fitting manner, and finally managed to leave the room. The rest may be quoted: “At the foot of the great stairs she ran against Secretary Craggs just coming in, who stopped her to inquire what was the matter—was the company put off? She told him why she went away, and how urgently the King had pressed her to stay longer, possibly dwelling on that head with some small complacency. Mr. Craggs made no remark, but, when he had heard all, snatching her up in his arms as a nurse carries a child, he ran full speed with her up-stairs, deposited her within the ante-chamber, kissed both her hands respectfully (still not saying a word), and vanished. The pages, seeing her returned, they knew not how, hastily threw open the inner doors, and, before she had recovered her breath, she found herself again in the King’s presence. ‘Ah! la re-voilà,’ cried he extremely pleased, and began thanking her for her obliging change of mind. The motto on all palace gates is ‘Hush!’ as Lady Mary very well knew. She had not to learn that mystery and caution ever spread their awful wings over the precincts of a Court, where nobody knows what dire mischief may ensue from one unlucky syllable babbled about anything, or about nothing, at a wrong time. But she was bewildered, fluttered, and entirely off her guard; so, beginning giddily with, ‘O Lord, sir, I have been so frightened!’ she told his Majesty the whole story exactly as she would have told it to any one else. He had not done exclaiming, nor his Germans wondering, when again the door flew open, and the attendants announced Mr. Secretary Craggs, who, but that moment arrived it should seem, entered with the usual obeisance, and as composed an air as if nothing had happened. ‘Mais comment donc, Monsieur Craggs,’ said the King, going up to him, ‘est-ce que c’est l’usage de ce pays de porter des belles dames comme un sac de froment?’ ‘Is it the custom of this country to carry about fair ladies like a sack of wheat?’ The Minister, struck dumb by this unexpected attack, stood a minute or two not knowing which way to look; then, recovering his self-possession, answered with a low bow, ‘There is nothing I would not do for your Majesty’s satisfaction’. This was coming off tolerably well; but he did not forgive the tell-tale culprit, in whose ear, watching his opportunity when the King turned from them, he muttered a bitter reproach, with a round oath to enforce it, ‘which I durst not resent,’ continued she, ‘for I had drawn it upon myself; and, indeed, I was heartily vexed at my own imprudence’.”[59]