There were the Jacobites who muttered darkly and whispered that this was an evil day for England; but these were few compared with the Protestants who were relieved that a new King had been chosen who would be true to the Reformed Church of England.
But even they talked of Germans. A pity, they thought, that the Stuarts had turned to Catholicism. How much more comfortable if King James's son across the water had never become a Papist; then they would never have been obliged to bring in the Germans.
But today King George was making his entry into London and whatever had happened to bring him here, whatever would be the result was not to be thought of today. For this was a holiday, a day of pleasure; and every apprentice in the capital, every milkmaid, every merchant and his wife were going to see that a good time was enjoyed.
The Jacobites were the only ones who had been hoping for a dismal day. They would have preferred to see the rain teeming down in torrents or a cold wind to drive the people off the streets. But fate was on the side of the Guelphs that day; and the sun shone brilliantly. It was a glorious, golden September day.
Coaches emblazoned with arms led the procession from Greenwich and the spectators had an opportunity of seeing representatives of all the noble families of England.
There were exclamations and shouts as the coaches trundled by; and breathless with excitement the spectators waited for that which they had come to see—the royal coach.
And there it was—its glass glittering in the sun and on the front seat the Duke of Northumberland and Lord Dorset; and inside—the new King and his son the Prince of Wales.
"So that's the King!" There was a titter of dismay. He was not exactly what they had expected. A man past fifty on whom the royal robes did not hang very becomingly; he had a rather sour expression and it was quickly noticed that although he bowed his head in acknowledgement of their cheers and put his hand on his heart as he did so as a token of his determination to be their very good King, he did not smile.
Beside him was a much more pleasant personality: The Prince of Wales. There was a young man, not exactly handsome, but with a pleasant expression and manner. He seemed to enjoy wearing his magnificent robes, and his gracious smiles showed that he liked the people too. Now there was a man who seemed glad to be in England.
"God bless the Prince of Wales! " cried a voice in the crowd and others took it up.
The young man placed his hand on his heart and bowed.
"Don't do that," said the King sharply.
"But..."
"I said don't. It is for me to bow. You sit still and do nothing.
George Augustus's affable expression turned to one of hatred, but he quickly changed it knowing that he was watched.
"The Prince of Wales!" cried the crowd. He was delighted.
They liked him—not his father. This was triumph. They were accepting him as they never would his father. He wished Caroline were here to see him.
So he must not bow. Very well. He could do as much with a smile. They seemed to think so for they continued to shout for him.
The King noticed and his expression grew more grim.
I'm glad we came to England, thought George Augustus. England is the place for me.
He was already planning the Court he would have to rival that of his father; and the thought gave him much pleasure.
The royal coach passed on and in the cavalcade following it were the coaches in which rode the Hanoverian friends and servants whom the King had brought with him.
In one of these were two women—one very tall and thin, the other short and fat. They made a grotesque sight, the raddled cheeks of one painted scarlet, the purple ones of the other covered in white powder; the wig of one flaming red, the other jet black.
"Who are they?" was the cry; and the answer came promptly: "They are his mistresses."
This was the occasion for which they had been waiting. George had pleased them at last; he had given them something to laugh at and there was nothing they liked better.
"So that's how he likes them. What kind of man is this they have brought us from Germany?"
"Look at her. The Maypole, I mean ... not the Elephant! Though look at her tool Did you ever see the like?"
"Why did he bring those with him. Did he think we could not offer him better than that?"
The King's mistresses had their nicknames—the Maypole and the Elephant and because one was so tall and thin, the other so short and fat, they gave rise to ribaldry which went echoing through the crowds.
In the coffee houses the Jacobites reminded each other, and any who cared to listen, of the King's cruelty to his wife and how even at this time she was languishing in a prison to which he had confined her many years ago.
"This is the man you have brought here! " cried the Jacobite speakers. "This man who hasn't learned how to speak our language or even to smile."
And even those who didn't care whether a Guelph or a a Stuart sat in the throne thought the new king was a sour looking fellow.
The guns of the Tower boomed out and the Lord Mayor and City Father greeted the King while the Recorder read his speech of welcome. Then—over London Bridge to St. Pauls where children had been assembled to chant "God Save the King", and flags were waved as the glass coach passed through the triumphal arches; the guns were booming and the bells from every church in London ringing.
Several people were already drunk on the wine which flowed from the fountains, and among the shouts of "God Save the King" could be heard a growl or two.
If the King heard them he gave no sign; he was merely thinking that he would be glad when the procession had passed through his capital city and had reached the comfort of St. James's Palace for then the nonsense would be over. His new subjects were a frivolous lot; he had gathered that much. They were shouting for him now, but they would be shouting for James if he were offered to them; anything for free wine and a day's holiday!
St. James's at last. He was glad it was over. Now for the banquet and more expressions of loyalty and then the comfort of bed.
George Augustus was flushed and triumphant; no doubts there as to his feelings for his new country I Bernstorff was right. He would have to be watched; and when his clever wife appeared even more so.
He listened to the loyal addresses; he presided over a meeting of his Council; and after that to bed.
In the streets the feasting continued. The lights of a hundred bonfires sent a glow into the sky; there was dancing and singing; there were brawls and lovemaking. A typical holiday for the people of the new King's capital who had always chosen any opportunity for making merry except in the days of the Puritans, since when they had been doubly merry to make up for those lost years.
"Long live King George! " sang the Protestants.
"Damn King George," sang the Jacobites.
And, in his new palace, alas many miles from Hanover which he knew now how much he loved, the new King of England serenely slept.
God Save King George
From the deck of the ship which was carrying her to England Caroline had her first glimpse of the land which would be her home and of which, if all went as she hoped, she would be Queen.
She had few regrets for what she had left behind, having caught the Electress Sophia's enthusiasm for this land, compared with which, she fully believed, Hanover was a backward little state. True she had been unable to bring Leibniz but this was the land of Newton, Swift, Addison and Steele—and she would have an opportunity of meeting these men. Here they wrote their satires and their lampoons and through these they moulded public opinion and so had as great an influence on the conduct of the Kingdom as any ruler.
Of this land she would one day be Queen, unless the Jacobites arose and drove them away. The future seemed full of stimulating possibilities.