The King's Mistress: The True & Scandalous Story of the Woman Who Stole the Heart of George I (28 page)

But Swift’s incendiary pamphlets and uproar in Ireland led to such an outcry that Walpole’s ministry teetered. Melusine was desperately embarrassed and Wood’s patent was finally withdrawn in August 1725. She was mortified not only because it placed George’s government in jeopardy and led to uprisings in Ireland, but because of her vicious parodying in the penny press. Swift did not go so far as to fulminate against her in his
Drapier’s Letters
, but he did lampoon her for her role in the sorry Wood affair on at least
two other occasions. In a poem of 1724, ‘Prometheus: On Wood the Patentee’s Irish Halfpence’, she is shown as Venus, one of the pantheon of Roman gods and goddesses betraying a nation:

There is a chain let down from Jove,

But fasten’d to his throne above,

So strong that from the lower end,

They say all human things depend.

This chain, as ancient poets hold,

When Jove was young, was made of gold,

Prometheus once this chain purloin’d,

Dissolved, and into money coin’d;

Then whips me on a chain of brass;

Venus was bribed to let it pass.

And in another of 1725, ‘A Simile on our Want of Silver, and the Only Way to Remedy it’, he writes:

When late a feminine magician [Melusine],

Join’d with a brazen politician,

Exposed, to blind the nation’s eyes,

A parchment of prodigious size . . .

It is unfair to blame Melusine for the ensuing unrest in Ireland, but elements of the pious chattering classes blamed her greed at least in part for the uprisings. Worse was to come. Melusine’s role in the partial rehabilitation of Henry St John, Viscount Bolingbroke, sealed her reputation for avarice with her contemporaries and with historians up until the latter part of the twentieth century.

The hugely able and charismatic Bolingbroke had been Queen Anne’s Secretary for the North. After George’s accession and the ensuing Jacobite rebellions he fled to France, where he was
welcomed by the Pretender. But from as early as 1716 Bolingbroke attempted to obtain a pardon and re-entry into British political society through Lord Stair, the British ambassador to France. In a series of letters to Tory friends, he renounced the Pretender and attempted to justify his actions during the rebellions. This had little effect however, and neither did sporadic negotiations for his return with various Whig ministers.

In 1719, shortly after the death of his first wife Frances Winchcombe, whom he treated appallingly – a contemporary portrait by Michael Dahl shows a haunted young woman – Bolingbroke married Marie-Claire de Marcilly, marquise de Villette. She was the niece of Louis XIV’s mistress and morganatic wife, Madame de Maintenon. It was through Marie-Claire’s courtship of Melusine that Bolingbroke managed to come back to England. Marie-Claire travelled to the country specifically to plead for her husband. She spent a great deal of time in Melusine’s company, charming her and winning her over to Bolingbroke’s cause.

Bolingbroke was pardoned in May 1723, prompting a flurry of letters between him and Townshend. He promised: ‘if my restitution can be completed, your lordship may have more useful friends and servants; a more faithful one you cannot have, than I shall endeavour to approve myself . . .’ Within this letter to Townshend he included one to the king and one to Melusine, obviously perceiving them to be of equal importance in aiding him.
⁶
Melusine replied, through Townshend: ‘to return your lordship very many thanks for your letter to her, with assurances of her grace’s particular regard for your lordship, and the success of your affairs . . .’
⁷
Bolingbroke must have been hopeful of success with Melusine’s assurances.

But he was desperately disappointed that nothing further happened. He was not readmitted to the House of Lords, his estates were not returned and he did not regain his title.

Melusine became very ill in the summer of 1724, beginning a series of ailments that would last for the rest of her life. In June Joanne Sophie wrote to her friend, Sophie Catharine of Münchhausen:

our Duchess de Kendal became very unwell directly after the King’s birthday and was brought sick to Kensington. She had a high fever with a heavy ache in the chest which seemed very dangerous at the beginning. The fever, however, thank the Lord, has left her and she has recovered so much that she left her bed the day before yesterday – and I was reassured today that she is recovering well. I thank God with all my heart for that, as we really are in need of this lovely princess [Fürstin] whose only goal it is to do good for everyone and to take special care of her loved ones.
⁸

She recovered, and by May 1725 was able to intercede for Bolingbroke again. His situation changed and the king was persuaded that he could own and inherit property in England once more, although he remained without his seat in the House of Lords and his title. Contemporaries were convinced that George had arrived at this decision because Bolingbroke had bribed Melusine with the incredible sum of £11,000 – roughly one and a half million pounds in today’s money.

Bolingbroke rightly blamed Walpole for his only partial restitution; Walpole was concerned that Bolingbroke would stir up trouble and advised George against giving him all he asked. What, then, of the bribe? Did Melusine really receive it, or was the speculation and gossip-mongering unfounded?

Fabrice, although he mentions other money presents to Melusine, does not mention Bolingbroke’s gift. This does not mean that it was not made, only that no sources have been found. Coxe was convinced of it and quotes Reverend Henry Etough, Robert
Walpole’s chaplain and the author of an early biography of the minister. Etough’s minutes of a conversation with Walpole record:

[Bolingbroke] gained the duchess of Kendal by a present of £11,000 and obtained a promise to use her influence over the king for the purpose of forwarding his complete restoration. Harcourt, with her co-operation, seems principally to have managed this delicate business; and as at this period Townshend was reconciled to Melusine, it was probably owing to her interest that he was induced to move the king to grant a pardon to Bolingbroke . . .
⁹

Others thought that young Melusine was involved, and handled the gift on her mother’s behalf. A nineteenth-century historian, Thomas Macknight, argued: ‘The money was paid through William Chetwynd to Lady Walsingham, the niece of the duchess, who had assuredly an itching palm.’ He cited Coxe’s examination of the Walpole correspondence.
¹⁰

Another strange rumour persisted after George’s death, told by Horace Walpole. He reported that Bolingbroke was convinced George meant to replace Walpole, whom he trusted implicitly, with Bolingbroke, who had served the Pretender so closely. It was Melusine, he argued, who brought about the private meeting between rehabilitated traitor and monarch.

According to Coxe: ‘Not long before his [Walpole’s] death he said to his son, “Horace, when I am gone, you will find many curious papers in the drawer of this table,” and mentioned, among others, the memorial which had been drawn up by Bolingbroke, and presented by the duchess of Kendal to the king . . .’
¹¹

Bolingbroke was erroneously convinced that George was ready to sack Walpole and make him prime minister. He believed he had such influence with Melusine that she would move heaven and earth to make it happen. Coxe reproduced Etough’s intriguing report of a conversation with Walpole where he totally dismissed Bolingbroke’s claims. It makes for fascinating reading:

I had an opportunity for full conversation with Sir Robert Walpole. I mentioned then to him, Bolingbroke’s reports, of his often attending the late king at supper, and of his interest being so prevailing, that it was with the utmost importunity and address, he persuaded the king to defer the making him prime minister, till he returned from Hanover. He condescended to give me this explanation. He said lying was so natural to St. John [Bolingbroke], that it was impossible for him to keep within the bounds of truth. He might truly boast of his prospects, for they were very great; though things were not so fixed and near as he pretended. He had the entire interest of the duchess of Kendal, and having this, what consequences time would probably have produced, required no explanation. St. John, he averred, had only been once with the king, which was owing to his importunity.

The king had given Sir Robert a memorial [memo] of St. John’s [Bolingbroke], consisting of three sheets of paper. He observed the cover was not sealed, and therefore the deliverer of it must certainly know from whence it came, and perhaps the contents. On the two Turks disclaiming all knowledge of the affair, he went to the duchess of Kendal, who owned the part she had acted . . . St. John, in this address, had desired an audience, and undertook, if admitted, to demonstrate the kingdom must shortly be ruined, if Sir Robert Walpole continued prime minister. Sir Robert Walpole himself, humbly and earnestly desired he might be admitted; he told the king, if this was not done, the clamour would be, that he kept him to himself, and would allow none to come near him, to tell the truth. This was repeated to the duchess, who promised her interest with the king.

When Sir Robert next attended her grace, she said the king was averse to seeing St. John, taking for granted, it must make you uneasy. He replied, he could not be easy till St. John was admitted. This was so much pressed, that he was soon after gratified with an audience. Lord Lechmere happened to come upon business at the same time, he enquired who was in the closet; he heard Walpole was also at court: he then imagined him to be sole director. Fully possessed with this conceit, he went in to the king. He began with reviling Walpole, as not being contented with doing mischief himself, but introducing one who was, if possible, much worse; and thus he departed, without offering the papers to be signed, which he brought as chancellor of the duchy. This diverted the king extremely, who made it the subject of conversation, when sir Robert waited on him; he slightly mentioned St. John’s demonstrations, and called them bagatelles.

I have been thus minute and exact, because St. John and his friends have made the thing surer and more immediate, than can be justified from reality. On the other side, some of the great man’s nearest relations and friends have deemed it as groundless, and have thought fit to represent him as under no sort of apprehension from his rival. I will therefore repeat what he said several times, and particularly at the end of the conversation, which was nearly in these words. ‘As he had the duchess entirely on his side, I need not add, what must or might in time have been the consequence. He informed me the same day, that the bill in favour of St. John, is wholly to be ascribed to the influence of the duchess. Either the present Viscount Chetwind, or his brother William, conveyed eleven thousand pounds from St. John’s lady to lady Walsingham, the duchess’s niece.’
¹²

It is highly unlikely that George would ever have admitted Bolingbroke into his ministry, and certainly not as his chief minister. George never forgot a misdemeanour and he could not forgive Bolingbroke, however talented and useful he might have
been to him, for having made contact with the Pretender in 1714, despite his subsequent rehabilitation. George would have been unable to trust him. Furthermore he and Walpole worked well together; despite their differences, George had admired him as a politician since he came to the throne in 1714. He was well aware of Walpole’s command of the House of Commons and the expediency of working with him.

Moreover Bolingbroke was a fantasist, although in his defence he may have been misled by Melusine. It is quite conceivable that when the bribe was offered, she accepted it with the intention of doing only a minimal amount for him. She may have felt that she had done her duty by Bolingbroke by arranging a meeting for him with George, and knowing George’s favourable feelings towards Walpole, which she shared, did not push it further.

Bolingbroke was bitter for the rest of his life, and directed his animosity towards Walpole in the opposition newspaper,
The Craftsman
. But he continued to believe that had it not been for Walpole’s intercession, he would have been George’s chief adviser because of Melusine’s good offices. In a rather unhinged letter of vitriol directed towards Walpole, he wrote to Sir William Wyndham in 1736:

. . . Though the late king durst not support me openly against his ministers, he would have plotted with me against them, and we should have served him, our country, and ourselves, by demolishing that power that is become tyranny in the paws of the greatest bear, and the greatest jackanapes upon earth . . . I know not whether you may judge as despondingly as I do, concerning the present state of our constitution. But be pleased to dwell in your thoughts one moment on these short and obvious reflexions. The corruption now employed is at least as dangerous as the prerogative formerly employed . . .
¹³

15.
Diplomacy