Perdita's Prince

Birthday celebrations at Windsor

IN THE GREAT drawing room the Prince stood beside his father receiving congratulations on attaining his nineteenth birthday. He looked magnificent in his elegant coat, on which flashed the diamond star as brilliant as the buckles on his shoes.

Handsome enough, thought the King. But getting fat. Have to speak to him about it. If he shows signs at nineteen what will he be at my age?

The King felt that he was an old man although only in his early forties. The weight of state affairs, the trials of a family …

The Queen looked on almost complacently for having produced such a handsome son; she was pleased, too, because although her little scheme to provide him with a nice comfortable German mistress had failed, there were rumours that he was not nearly so friendly with that dreadful play actress.

He’ll settle down, thought the Queen.

The Prince was thinking of women. He was free. Dally was amusing and how experienced! He was enjoying his encounters with Dally; and as for the rather sedate Mrs Armistead, she was a treasure. It was amusing to ride out to the Magpie when he felt in the mood and there she would be, never reproaching him, always pleased to see him, so different from Perdita that she reminded him of her – most pleasantly. Reminded him of what he had escaped, of course. That virago-saint! How had he endured her for so long?

There were going to be changes when he returned to London. He was not going to Cumberland House so frequently. He did not like his uncle and he was not going to pretend he did. The fellow was an ignoramus. The more friendly he became with Fox and Sheridan the more he realized this. Insolent too! Taffy! He would have his friends remember that although he liked to be on terms of intimacy with them he was still the Prince of Wales. No one was going to call him by familiar epithets without his permission. Taffy indeed!

Yes, there would be changes.

The celebrations were to last several days, and it was enjoyable to be at the centre of them. He was behaving with such propriety that even the King had nothing of which to complain.

When they met they talked of politics, which at the moment meant the affair of the American Colonies which occupied the King’s mind almost exclusively. The Prince did not set forward his views which, having been acquired through Charles James Fox, were in exact opposition to those of the King.

The King was a little optimistic.

‘The French,’ he told the Prince, ‘are not so ready now to help our rebels. And I’ll tell you why. They have troubles of their own, big troubles. I would not care to see the finances of this country in the same condition as those of France.’

The Prince nodded.

‘You should take an interest in these affairs. They concern the country. More important than gambling or running after maids of honour, eh?’

Oh dear, the old fool hadn’t advanced since Harriot Vernon – and he himself had almost forgotten her name and certainly could not recall what she looked like.

‘I do take an interest,’ said the Prince coolly. What if the old man knew about those long discussions he enjoyed with Fox and Sheridan over innumerable glasses of wine! That would startle His Majesty. But of course Mr Fox could bring a lucid and brilliant mind to the subject; not like poor old muddled Papa.

‘Glad to hear it, glad to hear it. Don’t forget you’ll be taking your place in the House of Lords in two years’ time.’

‘Two years,’ said the Prince ironically.

‘Seems far ahead. Not so. Not so. I know what it’s like at your age. I was young once myself, you know.’

Indeed, thought the Prince sarcastically. Your Majesty surprises me. But he merely smiled sycophantishly. There was no point in antagonizing the old man further at this stage. That would come when he did take his part in politics and ranged himself beside Fox against his father.

‘Well, well, this has all the appearance of a long contest that will end as it ought by the colonies returning to the mother country and I tell you this: I will never put my hand to any other conclusion of this business.’

No point in telling him that Mr Fox thought differently, that Mr Fox believed that there would never have been any conflict between the mother country and her colonies if it had not been for the stupidity of the King and certain of his ministers.

It was irksome indeed to be still under the jurisdiction of such a bumbling old fool. Two more years before he could hope for complete freedom! In the meantime he had to be content with a little more than he was allowed as a boy. His cage was opened now and then; he was allowed to fly out provided he made sure of returning.

The King, thought the Prince – and he believed this because Fox had told him it was so – was a monarch who believed he should have supreme power in the country. He treated his Prime Minister, Lord North, as the man who should carry out the royal orders. This, according to Fox, was the reason why the best men in the country – Fox implied men like himself – would not serve the King. That was why they must put up with the mistakes of a second-rate politician like North. The troubles of the country were largely due to this attitude of the King’s and it was one which no government worthy of its name would allow. A government headed by Fox would never allow itself to be dictated to. Pitt’s had been such a government and it was under Pitt that England had gained an Empire; it was during North’s ministry that England was losing one.

Oh wait, thought the Prince. Wait until I am of age. Wait till I take my place in the House of Lords. Wait till I show my hand. Then it will be Fox and the Prince. Men of intelligence at the head of affairs, not two old idiots like North and the King.

The King had now started on a lecture about the evils of gambling, drink and women. The Prince must remember his position. Never gamble. It meant heavy debts. (The Prince mildly wondered what he owed.) Drink ruined any man – physically and mentally. As for the company of light women that meant scandal; and that was something of which the royal family had to beware more than anything.

‘That play actress …’ said the King gruffly. ‘It’s over now, is it?’

The Prince could say truthfully that it was.

‘Good thing. Hope you realize now … those women can be dangerous. Grosvenor’s wife and your uncle Cumberland. Shouldn’t go there, you know. They’re not received and it looks bad.’

‘I don’t intend to go there so much in future.’

‘That’s good … that’s good.’

‘And that fellow Fox. He’s sharp. I don’t trust him. Hear you see something of him. And Sheridan. They say he’s a clever fellow. Can’t see it. Writes a few plays … just words … words … and married that good woman and treats her badly. These people are no good to you. Understand, eh, what?’

The Prince changed the subject. ‘Several people have invited me to their houses. I thought I would do a tour of the country. It might be interesting and the people like to see us in other parts of the country besides the south.’

He was thinking: It would be an excellent idea. He would get right away from Perdita in case she became importunate. She had dared come to Windsor to see him. Impertinence. But Perdita could be persistent and she was not going to be easily cast off. He remembered the protestations he had made of fidelity. Well, it was the usual lover’s talk. And how was he to have known that she would be so melancholy and write those dreadful poems about how she had suffered and all she had given up. It had become unendurable. No one could have endured it – few would as long as he had.

‘Oh,’ said the King, ‘where have these invitations come from, eh what?’

The Prince told him, enumerating some of the most well-known families in the country.

The King grunted. They would entertain him lavishly. There would be drinking and gambling and women. He did not think that this was the time for his son to go gallivanting all over the country. Not until he was a little more mature … and the King was a little more sure of what was going on in his mind. He seemed to have improved a little but he could not be sure.

‘When did they wish you to go, eh, what?’

‘Almost immediately. Before the summer is over. Travelling up to the north would present difficulties later.’

‘H’m. Have to think about this. After all, Prince of Wales has his duties. Have to be careful. Go to one, and another wouldn’t like it. Understand, eh, what?’

‘No,’ said the Prince. ‘I hope to visit frequently and if I don’t take in some this visit I’ll do another later. I think it is wrong for us to stay in the south all the time as though we hadn’t a country outside this area.’

‘Oh, you do, do you? Well, we’ll see. I’ll look into this and let you know my decision.’

The Prince’s face was pink. He could not keep on friendly terms with the old man for long. He was impossible. How much longer must he be treated like a child. He knew the answer to that. Two years. Not until he was twenty-one could he escape.

But the visit to Windsor had its compensations.

At the dinner which preceded the birthday ball he found himself seated next to the lovely Lady Augusta Campbell.

The banquet was held in St George’s Hall and to accommodate the eighty members of the nobility who were the guests of the royal family three long tables had been set up. At the head of one of these sat the King and Queen and at another the Prince of Wales.

Lady Augusta was young and charming and she talked gaily of the review in the Park which had taken place that afternoon as part of the birthday celebrations. The Prince talked to no one else and this was noticed – and not without some dismay by Lady Augusta’s mother, the Duchess of Argyll.

As soon as the banquet was over and the ball began the Prince danced with Lady Augusta and it was clear that he was reluctant to partner anyone else.

There were whispers and sly glances. He has finished with Perdita Robinson. Will Lady Augusta be the next? And what of Dally the Tall? Was she going to stand aside and see the prize snatched from her by this young inexperienced girl.

Lady Augusta was certainly a lovely creature. She lacked the art of beautifying herself which a woman like Perdita Robinson possessed; but beside the actress she would seem young and pure.

During the evening the Prince persuaded her to leave the ballroom and walk in the moonlit park, but when he attempted to kiss her she was a little reluctant.

‘Why?’ he demanded. ‘Don’t you know I have fallen in love with you?’

‘Oh yes,’ she answered. ‘I know that – or you have for me what passes for love. But where could it lead? My parents will never allow me to be your mistress and yours would never allow you to be my husband.’

‘Ah, my dearest angel, I am not so easily defeated.’

But she was firm, and although she was undoubtedly attracted by him she was not so much so that she would forget discretion.

The Prince was not going to lose heart because he had failed after one banquet and ball. He had a new excitement in his life.

He had amusing Dally; intriguing Mrs Armistead; and now he sought to add Lady Augusta to his reason for finding life enjoyable.

The Prince sat in his apartments at Windsor writing a poem to Lady Augusta Campbell.

Oh! Campbell, the scene of tonight

Has opened the wound of my heart;

It has shown me how great the delight

Which charms of thy converse impart.

I’ve known what it is to be gay,

I’ve revelled in joy’s fleeting hour,

I’ve wished for the close of the day,

To meet in a thick-woven bower.

He laid down his pen and thought of Perdita whom he had met not exactly in a thick-woven bower; but an inn room on Eel Pie Island could be as romantic.

When Lady Augusta succumbed to his pleading would it be the beginning of a great love affair, such as he had once believed there would be with Perdita?

He forced himself to believe it would be so. He was at heart romantic. Fox might imply that he would be much more content if he did not allow himself to become deeply involved with one woman; but he knew that it was something more than a passing appeasement that he desired. He enjoyed being in love, being ready to die – or at least renounce a great deal – for love.

So he would continue to write letters and poems to Lady Augusta and if she returned his passion he might insist on marrying her. The Argylls were a great family; but his father, he knew, would never consent to a marriage; it would be some plain German frau for him.

He shivered at the prospect and picked up his pen.

’Twas there that the soft-stolen kiss,

’Twas there that the throb of our hearts,

Betrayed that we wished for the bliss

Which love, and love only imparts …

He sighed, thinking of her beauty.

He did hope she was not going to remain aloof, insisting on preserving her virtue as Mary Hamilton had. In any case she, with Grace Elliott and Mrs Armistead, were helping him to forget Perdita; and that was what he wanted almost as much as Lady Augusta’s surrender – to forget Perdita completely, to forget her reproaches, her sacrificial sermons; he wanted to wash all memory of Perdita from his mind for he was heartily tired of her.

But as the days passed it became clear that Lady Augusta would cling to her virtue.

‘There could be no future for us,’ she said. ‘Your Highness cannot imagine that my parents would allow me to become another Perdita Robinson.’

By such words she irritated him. The very thing he did not want was to be reminded of Perdita.

So he decided to give up the pursuit of Lady Augusta and devote himself to those ladies who appreciated his attentions. There was no doubt that Grace did – gay abandoned creature. Though she was not entirely satisfactory because she kept on her old lovers at the same time.

Mrs Armistead was perhaps the more comforting of the two. She was always so delighted with some small diamond trinket that he found pleasure in making her little gifts.

Perhaps Charles James Fox was right. It was better not to become too involved.

The King sent for his son to tell him that he had come to a decision.

‘I cannot give my consent to these proposed trips of yours.’

‘But why not?’ The King looked surprised that the Prince should address him so curtly. ‘I can see nothing wrong in visiting some of Your Majesty’s most highly respected subjects.’

‘I have a treat for you,’ said the King. ‘Something you will enjoy more than these rounds of draughty country houses.’

‘A treat.’

The King nodded smiling. ‘You’ll see, eh? Patience … a virtue, eh, what?’

The Prince was disgusted. Treats? As though he were a boy.

His frustration was strengthened when he reminded himself that he could not disobey the King and accept invitations which His Majesty did not wish him to.

It was maddening. Let him wait, thought the Prince, until I’m twenty-one.

The ‘treat’ which the King was offering his son as a compensation for refusing his permission for the country visits was a trip to the Nore.

When the Prince heard of this he was disgusted. This in place of those country visits where he would have been fêted and treated according to his rank, entertained lavishly and enjoyed good conversation and the company of pretty women.

But such was his position that it was useless to protest. The King had decreed that he should go and go he must.

The King and the Prince rode in their separate yachts down the river and were saluted by the ships they passed. Through Woolwich, Tilbury and Gravesend they went accompanied by numerous small craft and cheered along the way until they anchored in Sea Reach for the night. They set off again at five in the morning for Blackstakes; and here the King and Prince left their yachts and toured the dockyards, then proceeded to the Nore where they went on board Admiral Parker’s flagship.

There officers and men were presented to the King and the Prince and after these ceremonies, which were somewhat tedious in the Prince’s opinion, he and his father returned to their yachts. This, fumed the Prince, was his treat for being denied the ability to accept invitations when he wished. It was too humiliating. Particularly as before long what had happened was the talk of the town. A verse was circulated to commemorate the occasion.

The King and the Prince went to the Nore,

They saw the ships and main;

The Prince and King they went on shore

And then came back again.

The people were laughing at the King. Couldn’t he see it? And until the Prince was considered of an age to make his own decisions and cut himself free of his father’s control he would be laughed at too.

Returning to Windsor he went to the Magpie for the solace of Mrs Armistead’s company. She might lack the obvious beauty of Lady Augusta Campbell but she never irritated and she always knew how to soothe him.

No grande passion this – but eminently satisfactory.