Indiscretions of the Queen

Persecutions

A DRAMATIC incident suddenly and most unexpectedly robbed Caroline of her most influential supporter.

The Prince Regent had not made any changes in the Ministry although his Whig friends confidently expected him to. When the Duke of Portland had died, Spencer Perceval had become Prime Minister, although many had supposed this plum would fall to Canning; and during those first months of the Regency, Perceval remained in office. The Regent was watching the King’s progress which fluctuated a great deal, and the doctors told him that there were days when His Majesty was almost lucid. The Prince had no desire to make a change which the King, if he recovered, would immediately rescind; for this reason he was prepared to wait a while.

Perceval made no secret of his belief that the Princess of Wales had been ill- treated; and while he remained as the head of the Government, the Prince did not change his attitude in any way towards Caroline. As long as she kept out of his way he appeared to be content.

Then one afternoon in May as Perceval was going into the House a man stepped up to him, placed a pistol against his heart and fired. Perceval dropped to the ground— dead.

It had happened so quickly and seemed so pointless.

When the murderer was caught he proved to be a madman named John Bellingham who had recently come from Russia where he had been arrested for some small misdemeanour. He had appealed to the English ambassador there and as nothing had been done to help him, he blamed the government. His revenge was to shoot the Prime Minister.

About a fortnight after the death of Perceval, the London crowds turned out in their thousands to see Bellingham hanged. It was quite a spectacle.

Caroline was desolate, for she knew she had lost a good friend.

After the assassination of Perceval, Lords Wellesley and Moira had attempted to form a government and when they failed to do so, the Earl of Liverpool became Prime Minister. Caroline very quickly became aware of the change in her fortunes.

One of her greatest compensations was the affection her daughter felt for her, and the weekly visits to Charlotte were the highlights of her life. Charlotte was now a very forthright sixteen, and being aware that she was the heiress to the throne was not inclined to be forced to anything that she did not want. She was a great favourite with the people and everywhere she went she was cheered.

How different it was with the Regent! He was met by sullen silences and the occasional booing. The people took up the case of Charlotte and Caroline, and the general opinion was that the Regent was not only a bad husband but a cruel father. They laughed at his elegance, and his corpulence was exaggerated in all the cartoons. If he had remained faithful to Maria Fitzherbert they would have had some respect for him. But he was constantly in the company of Lady Hertford whose frigid manners assured her an unpopularity to match his own.

It was irritating to him to be given continual proof of the people’s affection for his wife and daughter; and in a petulant mood he ordered that Caroline and Charlotte, instead of meeting once a week, should meet only once a fortnight.

Caroline was furious.

‘Oh, what a wicked man he is! What harm are we doing him by meeting? My little Charlotte will be upset, too. Does he think I will endure this? He will see.’

Charlotte was at Windsor and the Queen and the Princesses were also in residence, so Caroline wrote to the Queen telling her that she intended visiting Windsor to see her daughter.

A cool note from Her Majesty informed her that it was the Regent’s wish that the Princess Charlotte’s lessons should not be disturbed; therefore it would not be possible for Caroline to see her if she came to Windsor.

This threw Caroline into a violent rage. ‘Does the old Begum think that she is going to keep me from my daughter? Charlotte hates her— always has! Why I remember when she was little her saying: The two things I hate are apple-pie and Grandmamma. That shows, does it not? And she has not changed. She still hates apple-pie and Grandmamma. And this is the woman who will keep me from her. I am going to Windsor, old Begum or not.’

Lady Charlotte asked timidly if Her Highness thought that wise in view of the Queen’s letter.

‘Dear Lady Charlotte, I am not concerned with the wisdom!’ Caroline cried.

So to Windsor she went. But the visit was not a success. The Queen received her coldly.

‘I fear,’ she said, ‘that you cannot see the Princess Charlotte. We have to obey the Regent’s orders, do we not?’

‘I am going to see her.’

The Queen looked surprised. ‘Perhaps I have not made it clear that these are the Regent’s orders.’

Caroline cried: ‘I’ll find her. I’ll see her. You’ll not keep me from my own daughter.’

The Queen looked horrified. What could one do with a woman who was so ignorant of the respect and homage due to the Crown?

‘I beg of you to leave, she said coldly. ‘I am sure you do not wish me to have you taken away.’

And something in the coldness of her manner made Caroline realize how powerless she was. The Queen could call her servants, or even the guards to have her forcibly removed. There was nothing she could do, but return fuming to Blackheath.

As soon as she returned to Blackheath she sat down and wrote a letter: Sir, It is with great reluctance that I presume to intrude upon Your Royal Highness and to solicit your attention to matters which may, at first, appear rather of a personal than of a public nature— There is a point beyond which a guiltless woman cannot with safety carry her forbearance. If her honour is invaded, the defense of her renutation is no longer a matter of choice; and it signifies not whether the attack be made openly, manfully and directly— or by secret insinuation, and by holding such conduct towards her as countenances all the suspicions that malice can suggest— I presume, sir, to suggest to Your Royal Highness, every succeeding month that the separation, which every succeeding month is making wider, of the mother and the daughter, is equally injurious to my character and to her education. I say nothing of the deep wounds which so cruel an arrangement inflicts on my feelings.’ She went on to write of the implications of such a decree but she signed herself: Your Royal Highness’s most devoted and most affectionate Consort, Cousin and Subject, Caroline Amelia. This letter she had delivered to the Prime Minister, Lord Liverpool, with the request that he should hand it to the Prince Regent. The Prime Minister returned the letter unopened the following day with a covering note.

His Royal Highness has stated that he will receive no communication from Your Highness and sees no reason why he should change that decision. ‘Very well,’ cried Caroline, ‘I will publish this letter that the people may read it.’

Shortly after it appeared in the Morning Chronicle.

This naturally had its repercussions in the fury of the people against the Regent and their increased sympathy towards Caroline. But this, the Regent ignored, and Caroline received a letter from Lord Liverpool in which he said that in view of the publication of the letter, the Prince Regent had commanded that her next meeting with the Princess Charlotte should be cancelled.

But the mood of the people and the truculent attitude of Caroline forced the Regent to a decision. He called together a committee to decide what the relationship between the Princess of Wales and her daughter should be; and he asked that the papers which were accumulated during the Douglas case be studied again in the hope of proving to the people of England that Caroline was no fit companion for the heiress to the throne.

Caroline was not without friends and now that she had lost Perceval she found two ardent supporters in Baron Brougham and Vaux, a distinguished lawyer and politician, and Samuel Whitbread, the Member for Bedford who had made a fortune out of the brewery business.

Whitbread was an earnest idealist who saw Caroline as a much persecuted heroine; Brougham was something of an opportunist who saw in Caroline’s case a cause which could bring him fame.

They called on her— separately— and both told her of their admiration for her fortitude in her misfortune and how they would work for her.

With her usual exuberance she welcomed them.

It was fortunate for her that she had these supporters for those of the Prince were demanding that the Douglases repeat their accusations against her.

Whitbread, aware of this, forestalled the Princess’s enemies by asking in the House of Commons that Lady Douglas be prosecuted for perjury.

The affairs of the Regent and his wife were being discussed everywhere.

There was no doubt whose side the people were on.

On one occasion riding in Constitution Hill Caroline’s carriage passed that of Charlotte and the young Princess called to her driver to turn and follow her mother.

When the carriages were side by side the two embraced affectionately and through the windows engaged in an animated conversation.

A crowd collected.

‘Long live the Princess Charlotte!’ they cried. ‘Long live the Princess of Wales!’

The two smiled affectionately at the people and waved their greetings.

There were loud cheers and grumbles in the crowd too. Why should fat George come between mother and daughter? Why should they stand by and allow such wickedness?’

Mother and daughter bade each other a fond farewell and their carriages drove away in opposite directions were seen to turn and wave and look after each other longingly. There were tears in many eyes as well as indignation.

‘It shouldn’t be allowed,’ was the comment. ‘Someone should put a stop to it.’

No one was more aware of public opinion than Brougham; he came down vehemently on Caroline’s side. Meanwhile the Douglases were alarmed considering the penalties of perjury and Sir John wrote to the House of Commons on behalf of his wife explaining that the depositions they had made on oath before the Lords Commissioners were not made on such judicial proceedings which could legally result in a prosecution for perjury. But as they felt the fullest confidence in their statements they were ready to take the oath and swear before a tribunal, which if they were proved false could mean a prosecution for perjury.

They were eager to swear before such a tribunal, but they did not wish to take these oaths before one which was lacking in these legal liabilities.

Brougham laughed aloud when he heard this.

‘Ah,’ he cried to Caroline. ‘You understand. They’re bluffing. They know what this will mean. They will only swear at a public trial in which the Prince Regent would have to appear.’

‘They are taking a risk,’ suggested Caroline.

‘Well, they have to take a risk— but a small one. They’re banking on the impossibility of having a public trial in which the Regent would show up in none too good a light. Moreover, all those spies of theirs might have been ready to swear before the Lords Commissioners but would they be prepared to do so in a court of law? Consider the penalties of perjury, dear Madam. No, this is good, there will be no trial. And they don’t deceive people in the know.’

He was right. News came that the Duke of Sussex had dismissed Sir John Douglas from his service. This was taken as a vindication of Caroline and there were bonfires in the streets and the effigies which were burned were those of Sir John and Lady Douglas.

The Duchess of Brunswick died at the time. Caroline was saddened, but her mother’s behaviour had not been exactly endearing. The Prince, on attaining the Regency, had offered her an apartment in Carlton House. Caroline guessed that this was to discountenance her; and the old lady had been eager to accept and would have done so had she not been prevailed upon by her son to refrain from doing so. So she had declined and continued to hold court in her dark and gloomy old house in New Street, Spring Gardens; but she did seem to take a delight in the humiliations heaped on her daughter, while she declared her dear nephew, the Prince Regent, was always charming to her.

Caroline, was understandably, concerned with the fate of her mother’s faithful lady-in-waiting, Lady Finiater, who on the death of the Duchess was left in very dire straits, and endeavoured to get her pension of five hundred a year.

Caroline was beginning to see that the Regent was too powerful for her. There would always be trouble, and as he was almost the King, she had little chance against him.

Charlotte was to be betrothed to the Prince of Orange, a match which the young Princess viewed with some distaste; and Caroline longed to be with her, to condole with her, to stop her making an unhappy marriage as she had.

Bat Charlotte had spirit and her father was a little afraid of her on account of that great affection she inspired wherever she went and the greater it became, the more he realized that quarrel between them could be disastrous to his own standing with the people.

He groaned and cursed his wife and daughter. Never was it man such a lover of the female sex, and never was a father and husband so plagued by them.

He blamed everything on to Caroline; he hated her; he could not bear to think of her. The manner in which she behaved disgusted him. She was vulgar; she had no sense of decorum; she was everything that he was not; and to think that she was the mother of the heiress to the throne enraged him.

When the Czar of Russia visited England he was determined to keep Caroline out of his sight for he could not endure the thought of the Czar’s seeing her and knowing that she was his wife.

When Caroline heard that there was to be a State visit to the Opera, she mischievously decided to discountenance the Regent.

‘They may ban me from the drawing rooms but they can’t prevent my going to the Opera,’ she announced triumphantly.

And while she was dressed for the occasion she grumbled to Lady Charlotte and her women about the manner in which she had been excluded from the Queen’s drawing room.

‘The Regent has said he does not wish to see you. And how can I ban the Regent from my drawing room?’ she mimicked the Queen. ‘ I fear in the circumstances I cannot invite you to attend. The old Begum! We have more fun in Montague House in five minutes than they do in a year in the old drawing rooms.’

She laughed gleefully, and gazed in delight at her reflection while Lady Charlotte shuddered inwardly. Could she really be contemplating visiting the Opera like that? She wore black velvet and on her head had set an elaborately curled wig so black that her face heavily daubed with white lead and rouge made a startling contrast.

‘Come on,’ she cried. ‘Smack it on. I want to be noticed tonight.’

Her large bosom was generously displayed and she called Willikin to comment on her appearance. He threw his arms about her neck and she gave him several smacking kisses and was clearly contemplating taking him with her.

Oh God, prayed Lady Charlotte, don’t let her be as foolish as that. Fortunately she changed her mind in time.

At the Opera the National Anthem was being played when she arrived. The Prince Regent was standing to attention in his box— on one side of him the Czar of Russia, on the other the King of Prussia.

The anthem over, the audience seated itself and then someone in the stalls noticed her.

‘The Princess of Wales!’ the cry went up and the people began to cheer. Here was a situation more interesting than the Opera could hope to be. The Princess and the Prince in the house together.

The Czar was looking interested.

‘What a handsome fellow,’ whispered Caroline excitedly.

‘Madam,’ said Lady Charlotte, ‘the people expect you to rise and acknowledge their cheers.’

‘Oh no,’ she said audibly, ‘Punch’s wife is nobody when Punch is there. I know my business better than to take the morsel out of my husband’s mouth.’

The applause continued.

And the Prince Regent with that elegance and savoir-faire which Caroline could never hope to understand, let alone emulate, rose turning to face her and gave the house and Caroline the benefit of that elegant bow which was the admiration of all who beheld it.

It was an evening of triumph for Caroline and of exasperating humility for the Prince. For when the Opera was over she went out to the carriage and found a crowd waiting for her.

They were also waiting for the Prince Regent. ‘Where’s your wife, George?’ they asked mockingly. This was particularly infuriating when he was in the company of visiting royalty.

As for Caroline it was: ‘Long live the Princess. God bless the innocent.’

They crowded round her carriage; they insisted on shaking hands with her.

Nothing loath she opened the door and took their hands in her affable friendly way. They cheered her lustily. She was the heroine of the evening.

One cried: ‘Shall we burn down Carlton House? You only have to say the word.’

‘No, no,’ she cried. ‘Just let me pass now and go home and sleep peacefully.

And God bless you.’

‘God bless you,’ they cried.

It was certainly a triumph.

But she soon realized the emptiness of such triumphs. The Czar had been impressed or amused by the evening at the Opera and he sent a note to Caroline asking permission to call on her.

How delightedly she gave it! ‘We must have a banquet. My word, this will put his little nose out of joint. We’ll have such a spectacle as to compete with anything he’s ever had at Carlton House.’

That was a wild exaggeration, of course, but it delighted her to think that in spite of her in-laws she was to receive the royal visitor.

She set her cooks to work; she sat with her women while long hours were spent on her toilette. She insisted that the rouge and white lead should not be spared.

‘That’s what he liked last time. Give him lots of it.’

But when she was ready she waited in vain; for the royal visitor did not appear.

Doubtless he had been made to realize by his advisers that he could not in a foreign country visit a Princess who was ignored by the Prince Regent.

Caroline took off her wig and threw it into the air. ‘Well, that’s that, my angels.’

She became very melancholy.

‘I don’t know why I stay in this country to be treated in this way. What’s to stop my leaving it? I can’t see anything to stand in the way.’

‘There’s war on the Continent,’ pointed out Lady Charlotte.

‘So there is. But if there was not, do you know I think I should go away. It would be the best for everyone, including myself. I’d take Willie with me and some of you dear friends.’

‘What of the Princess Charlotte?’

‘Ah, my Charlotte! But you know she is in constant conflict with her father and a great deal of that trouble is through her loyalty to me. So perhaps it would even be better for her.’

She sighed. She was certainly in one of her moods of, deepest depression.

She left the house she had taken in Connaught Place for Blackheath. There, she said, she could brood on her troubles, for she was becoming increasingly aware that she would have to take some action— though what she was unsure.

Montague House was always a comfort. There she had had her happiest times.

She decided she would send for the Sapios and they should soothe her with their music. It would comfort her considerably and perhaps provide her with the inspiration she needed.

Lady Charlotte came hurrying in with a look of consternation. ‘Your Highness, there is a carriage at the door. You are implored to leave without delay for Connaught House.’

‘This is too much. I refuse—’

‘Madam, the Princess Charlotte is there. She has run away— to you.’

‘Get my cape at once,’ cried Caroline; and in a few minutes she was on the way to Connaught House.

There she found Brougham, some of Charlotte’s ladies, the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Lord Chancellor Eldon, the Duke of York and the Duke of Sussex. And in the midst of this gathering a very defiant Charlotte who when she saw her mother ran to her and threw herself into her arms.

‘It’s no use,’ she said. ‘I shall not go back. I am going to live with my mother.

I have chosen.’

The men looked helpless and it was Brougham who spoke, ‘Your Highness must consider what this could mean.’

‘I have considered,’ cried Charlotte imperiously. ‘I have made up my mind. I am tired of being my father’s prisoner. I am going to be free. I am going to be with my own mother, It’s what I want. It’s what the people want.’

Caroline said: ‘Tell me what has happened.’

Charlotte laughed. ‘I refuse to marry Orange.’ She shivered. ‘I absolutely refuse and I have told him so. For one thing it would mean living in Holland which is something I will not do. And why should I? I shall one day be the Queen of England. England is where I propose to live.’

‘And your father knows this?’ asked Caroline.

Charlotte rolled her eyes to the ceiling. ‘The scene! You should have heard it.

I will say this for him— he has a fine command of the language. But do you know how he is going to punish me? He’s going to dismiss all my staff and provide me with— jailers. I won’t have it. We’ll be together, won’t we? We’ll be a pair of outcasts.’

Brougham said: ‘Your Highness will explain to the Princess Charlotte how impossible such a plan would be.’

Caroline nodded. ‘They wouldn’t let us be together, my angel. I’d have no power to keep you— happy as I should be to do so.’

‘Oh, Mamma, how cruel they all are!’

‘Yes, my darling, but we must needs put up with it.’

Lord Eldon was regarding Charlotte with disapproval. He would have liked to deal severely with that tempestuous and bouncing girl; if she were his, he had told the Regent, he would lock her up.

Brougham explained tactfully that the law had to be considered as well as her father. She was very young. She was in the care of the State. She would have to remember this.

‘I’d have you remember that I am the heiress to the throne. One day I shall be your Queen.’

‘We know it, Your Highness, and it is for this reason that you must submit to the law.’

Charlotte looked piteously at her mother, and Caroline could only nod.

‘He’s right, I fear, my darling. You’ll have to go back. Perhaps when your father knows how strongly you feel, he will be lenient with you.’

Brougham with a dramatic gesture went to the window and drew aside the curtains. It was dark, being past midnight.

He said dramatically: ‘It is quiet out there now, Your Highness; but with dawn the people will begin to gather. If they know that you have run away in defiance of your father it could start a riot— worse still. Who knows? And once these disturbances begin there is no knowing where they will end. You would not wish to start a civil war, I am sure, which could mean bloodshed for thousands of innocent people.’

Charlotte was staring wide-eyed.

‘It’s true,’ he said. ‘Everyone here will bear me out.’

She looked round at the assembled company.

And no one denied him.

Brougham knew that he had averted a difficult situation. The Princess Charlotte would return and obey her father.

The allied forces against Napoleon had entered Paris; Napoleon had been obliged to abdicate and had retired to Elba. The French exiles, who had been living in as much state as they could muster in Aylesbury, had left with great pomp and ceremony for Versailles.

Caroline was thoughtful. The Continent was safe for travellers. Why should she not put into practice a plan which had been formulating for a long time?

Why should she stay in England to be humiliated? Why should she not travel?

She had always wanted to. Next to children, travel could excite her more than anything in the world.

There was only one person who could keep her here for she could take Willikin with her: that was Charlotte. But of what use was she to Charlotte? In fact now that Charlotte had been sent to Cranbourne Lodge in Windsor Forest, she doubted whether she would be allowed to see her for months.

No, she was the cause of much of the friction between Charlotte and her father.

She would be better out of the way.

Of one thing she could be certain. The Regent would put nothing in the way of her going.

She was right. He did not. And so Caroline began to make her plans to leave England.