Have you been wondering what Mr. Al meant about Queen Elizabeth the First and a sermon? Me too.
One Sunday, during the reign of Elizabeth the First, her Majesty was attending services and found the preacher getting a bit long winded. Her pew was separate from the rest, of course, and surrounded by a privacy screen. She tapped on the screen with her fan as a signal to the preacher to wind things up. The preacher read the tap to mean he needed to increase the volume. He did so. More royal tapping. The preacher then interpreted the tapping to mean he needed to put a bit more fire into his delivery.He then began waving his arms, gesturing violently as he belted out the sermon. More tapping followed. Very insistent tapping. As vexed as he was, he turned up the volume even more. So there the fellow was, standing in front of a very large gathering of very important people, waving his arms like a man possessed, screaming out a sermon at the top of his lungs, when Her Majesties privacy screen suddenly slid open. Her Majesty was not amused. She told him, in a raised, angry voice to put a cork in it and get on with the services. The screen closed with a loud crack. This was followed by much muffled laughter from the congregation.
It should come as no surprise that George III loved long, boring sermons. After all the bad press during George III’s illness, both the Prince and his brother realized they would have to take action to repair their public image. To that end, they set off on a trip to Yorkshire, a Whig stronghold. They had the presence of mind to keep themselves respectable. This was a propaganda trip, after all.
No excessive drinking, at least in public. No cards or any other gambling, and no skirt chasing. It was to be all shaking hands, kissing babies and dancing with old ladies at charity balls. It worked. Everyone, even The Times, praised the brothers behavior. Not a sour note was struck the whole trip. The Prince and the Duke were putting paid to all those nasty stories that had circulated since dad had fallen ill.
Then they returned to London. It was as if they had never been away. Few in London, particularly the Queen, were impressed. She continued her abusive behavior towards them. At this point, even those closest to the Queen were beginning to find her attitude toward the Prince, indeed, all her male offspring, at little disturbing. These kids were not the best-behaved lot, but they did have some good points.
It didn’t help that papers like The Times would describe the Prince as a man “who would at all times prefer a bottle and a girl to politics and a sermon.” Well…Duh! Unfortunately, the continued parental animosity combined with his seemingly irredeemable public reputation caused the Prince to give up on being good once he was firmly back in London.
It didn’t help that the Princes friends were often worse than he was. The term “rakehell” was, I believe, coined about this time. It describes the Princes party pals to a tee. Gents like the Duke of Norfolk, a dedicated whoremonger who refused to bathe and could only be cleaned when he was too drunk to prevent his servants from doing so. There were a few “ladies” on the roster. When it came to the Better Sorts of the period, boozing, gambling and sleeping around were not confined to the men.
One was the Countess of Barrymore; daughter of a sedan chairman and a rather higher end courtesan named Letitia Lade. (Yes, that was her last name.) Another chap worth mentioning is the Duke of Queensbury, whom one historian described as being “Cleaner than Norfolk, but a good deal more depraved.” He was the Kings Lord of the Bedchamber. He was also a legendary drunk and a familiar face at the worst whorehouses in London.
He was dismissed from his post after the Kings recovery when it was discovered that he was a frequent visitor to Carlton House. It was at this time that The Prince began to let his London life overlap with his Brighton life. The good citizens of Brighton, and Mrs. Fitzherbert, were about to get a taste of what the London papers had been writing about for months.
7 Responses to By George! Trying to Look Respectable