The King read copies of the lampoon and saw for the first time that these English could mock their own kind, if they thought they deserved it, as readily as any stranger. He saw too that they were no respecters of persons.
He felt a little warmer towards them and was more than usually disturbed when reports of new Jacobite riots were brought to him.
His unpopularity increased with the passing of the months. His two German mistresses were loathed by the people and jeered at whenever their coaches were seen in the streets. Schulemburg, who remained his first favourite, had proved herself to be of a very avaricious disposition and was continually seeking to enlarge her fortunes. George knew this and made no effort to stop her. The English, he said, were the most grasping people he had ever met. He was constantly being pestered by those about him for posts for this and that relation or friend. Therefore he was sardonically amused that Ermengarda should get what she wanted from them.
She came to him one day in a state of some agitation. She had been riding through the streets of London when the crowd had stopped her carriage and shouted insults at her.
"They call me Maypole," she said.
"There's nothing new in that," replied George. "It's the name they gave you when they first saw you."
For once Ermengarda could not be placated; her face under her red wig was sweating with indignation.
"l look from the window and I spoke to them in English," she explained. "I said this: 'Good pipple, why you abuse us? We come for all your goots.' And what do you think they shouted at me? *Yes, damn you,' they cried, 'And for all our chattels too.'"
When George understood the meaning of this he laughed sardonically. They were a garrulous lot, his new subjects. They seemed in love with words; no wonder the lampooners were so effective.
He told Ermengarda that she must not take the matter to heart.
"For," he said gloomily, "we are here, and here we must try to stay."
"And you think they will not send us back to Hanover?" she asked, little lights of fear shooting up in her eyes. If they returned to Hanover what would happen to her plans for amassing future wealth. England was a great milch cow and her dear George Lewis, whom she had truly loved for so long that she was as a wife to him, would help her to the milking.
"I think some may try," said George, "but they won't succeed."
"No, we must stop them. It could never be that they should turn you out. Silly people. Do they not know you come for their good."
"And their chattels?" added George with a rare touch of humour.
The King was thoughtful while being dressed by the only two servants whom he allowed into his bedchamber. This in itself was a complete disregard of royal etiquette for the ceremony of dressing the King had been one of the most important in the household and those courtiers who took part in it consequently of high standing. And that these two servants should be Turks was yet another insult to English custom.
Mustapha and Mahomet might be a pair of rogues, but they were no more avaricious than the fine ladies and gentlemen who surrounded him. He doubted they had ever learned the art of peculation as thoroughly as the great Duke of Marlborough a man whom George would never trust. Oh, he was friendly enough now and he had his uses, but there was a man who could turn his coat with more rapidity than most. George had heard that even while he accepted office with him he was in secret communication with James Stuart, just in case the Jacobites should succeed in bringing him back.
Life was very different here from in Hanover. There it had been far less complicated. There, although he had been Elector of a small community he had received more respect than he did as King of this great country. The Germans were by nature more disciplined than the English. He wished he were back.
These people had no respect for anyone. Only recently on the occasion of his birthday he had, because he had been told it was the custom, provided his Guards with new clothing. He was not a man who cared to waste money and naturally he had given the commission to the company which had given the cheapest estimate. It seemed that the shirts were much coarser than those previously supplied and as a result the Guards had marched through the City throwing off their jackets to show the quality of what the lampooners were soon calling "Hanoverian shirts".
That brought Marlborough to the King. One could not, said the Duke, afford to upset the soldiery. It was possible that a small affair like the cheap shirts could be the very spark to set off a mutiny.
Marlborough, George reflected cynically, must be of the opinion that the House of Hanover was in a stronger position than that of Stuart for he immediately ordered a double supply of shirts and jackets of the very best quality and added to it an extra donation of beer.
Such incidents made the King aware of the insecurity of his position.
Then again he enjoyed walking but he had no desire to be followed by a crowd who watched him and laughed and talked about him in a language he could not understand.
St. James's Park was beautiful but, in his opinion, spoilt by the people who crowded there and used it as their own. It belonged to the King. Why, he wanted to know, should not the King reserve it for his own special use?
He had talked of this to his Secretary of State, Lord Towns-end, who had taken over that office on the dismissal of Bolingbroke, because the latter being a Jacobite naturally could not retain his position when George came to England.
"I want to know," George had said, "how much it would cost to shut up St. James's Park and keep it for my private use."
Townsend had hesitated only for a second and then replied; "It would cost you three crowns. Sire."
A witty remark such as these English loved—but very much to the point this one. And it brought home to him yet once more how very precariously he sat on the throne of England.
Mahomet was placing his wig on his head, and George looked at the reflection of the dark face close to that with the heavy sullen jaw which was his own.
Bolingbroke! he thought. There was a man who could make trouble. And it was not long ago that he had fled to France.
He was an ambitious man, that Bolingbroke; in the last reign he had aspired to lead the government. He had quarrelled with Harley and helped by that woman of devious character. Lady Masham, might have succeeded very well indeed if Anne had not died, or if he had been able to bring James Stuart to England. He was too confirmed a Jacobite to change coats with sufficient alacrity and naturally he was dismissed—but dismissal was not all he had to fear. Walpole had wanted to impeach him and impeached he would have been had he not taken action. He had known this so he had artfully assumed an indifference he was far from feeling.
"I shall devote myself to literature," he had declared; and had gone to the opera, where he had greeted all his friends and generally called attention to himself by making appointments to see them in the following weeks. But when he left the opera he had gone to his house, put on a large black wig, dressed himself as a valet and made for Dover; and once there he crossed to France.
It was obvious to whom he was now offering his services.
The throne was very shaky.
Well, thought George, if I lose it, I shall go back to Hanover.
Herrenhausen would be very beautiful now; it would be good to smell the sausages and sauerkraut cooking in the old kitchens of the Leine Schloss.
And yet...
Was he beginning to have a little affection for this adopted country? Scarcely affection. But he must think of the generation to come—the future Kings and Queens of England.
Shortly afterwards on a bright September day Lord Towns-end and the Duke of Marlborough called on the King.
Prince James Francis Edward Stuart had landed in Scotland and had been welcomed there as King James III of England Scotland and Ireland.