Sweet lass of Richmond Hill

The Quarrel

Early the following year the matter of the Prince's debts had become so acute that he had no alternative but to appeal once more to his father.

The King received him with sorrow. Since his illness he wanted to be reconciled to his son and as he himself had become more mellow, the reconciliation might have taken place had not the Queen been determined to present her son to his father in the worst possible light.

But the quarrel between the Court and Carlton House was having disastrous results on the Monarchy and both the King and the Prince realized that it was unwise to show their dislike of each other so blatantly. This was brought home to them afresh with news of the terrible things which were happening across the Channel.

The Princess Royal, now twenty-five years of age, was aware of the harm the family quarrel was doing and tried to reason with her mother, but the Queen, having so recently acquired her influence, was not going to allow her daughter to interfere with it. Her dislike of the Prince of Wales was like a disease. It possessed her and it seemed there was no cure. She was delighted at the scurrilous reports of his liaison with Mrs. Fitzherbert which filled the newspapers, and when the Princess Royal pointed out that that lady had always behaved with the greatest decorum the Queen poohpoohed the suggestion and said that of course the woman was a scheming adventuress who hoped to take advantage of the Prince of Wales's folly. When Maria brought an action against one pamphleteer the Queen read the accounts with glee; but when the writer was fined and imprisoned and the affair appeared to be a warning to others not to incur further penalties, the Queen was disappointed.

How like the Prince to commit the ultimate folly, thought the Queen. To marry a commoner ... and a Catholic. If he had had any sense of his duty he would be married now to a suitable German Princess and have one or two lusty sons to ensure the succession as his father had done.

The best way of disturbing the Prince was to force public enquiries into his so-called marriage with Mrs. Fitzherbert. Let him be disturbed. It was only right that he should be called on to do his duty.

When she was walking with the King in the gardens she mentioned the delicate subject which she knew would upset him, but she was determined to speak of it.

"The Prince of Wales is approaching thirty. Is it not time that he thought about giving us the heir to the throne?"

The King's brows were drawn together into a worried frown.

"There is this affair ... this woman. She seems a good woman. If he is married to her ..."

"Married to her I How can he be married to her? He cannot marry without your consent and he has never asked it. Therefore he cannot have had it. He is not married to this woman and therefore he should be married to a German Princess."

"Yes" agreed the King. "It is true ... He should marry."

The Queen nodded. She was thinking that her niece Louise, Princess of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, would be a very good match. How comforting if her own niece were Princess of Wales! How grateful she would be to Aunt Charlotte who had arranged this marriage for her! She would defer to her aunt in everything. Yes, it must be Louise.

"There is another matter" said the Queen. "He sets himself up to be the patron of the Whigs. He should be made to receive Tories at Carlton House as well as Whigs. His debts are constantly settled by the Treasury and yet he turns his back on Tories. It is a ridiculous situation"

"A ridiculous situation, eh?" agreed the King.

The Queen happened to know—for now that she was a woman of influence she had her spies everywhere—that the Prince's creditors were getting so impatient that he would soon again be begging the King's help in the settlement of his debts. At such times lie was more humble—by necessity of course. Well, when he came he would have a shock waiting for him.

The King received the Prince. Mr. Pitt had suggested that there must be a formal reconciliation because the constant bickerings in the family were dangerous to the country's reputation abroad.

Tears filled the King's eyes; he wept more easily than ever nowadays, and his memory failed him so that at times he was living in the past. This was George—the precious infant, the first born, who had brought such joy to his parents—handsome, charming, healthy, sound in mind and body, the child for whom he had planned and schemed. What has gone wrong? the King asked himself.

The Prince too was moved. This poor old man who rambled frequently, who wept without reason, who was obsessed by the fear of falling once more into madness, was a shadow of the martinet he had once been; and the Prince, whose emotions were superficial, and who wept as easily as the King, found himself wishing for a reconciliation.

In a humble tone he told of his debts.

The King nodded without reproaches and said that there would have to be conditions if the debts were settled.

The Prince enquired what conditions.

"It is time you produced the heir to the throne."

"But I have many brothers."

"The country expects the Prince of Wales to provide the heirs unless he is unable to do so. I do not believe, my son, that you suffer from such a disability."

"Good God, no."

"Then ... there should be a marriage. A German Princess would be most suitable."

"A German!" cried the Prince in disgust.

"She must be Protestant. You realize that."

The Prince turned pale. "I would resist such a suggestion with all my might"

The King nodded. He understood. The Prince had gone through a ceremony of marriage with that woman, who was a good woman. She was a Catholic and had insisted on the ceremony. He understood; and he had no wish to embarrass the Prince.

"Well" he said, "since you are so set against it let us hope that we may shelve that matter for a while. But there is another."

The Prince was so relieved that he said impulsively: T will endeavour to meet Your Majesty's wishes on all other matters except this one."

"You must receive Tories at Carlton House," said the King. "By making it a Whig stronghold—and yourself nominal head of the Whigs—you offend the Government."

The Prince was thoughtful. Anything ... just anything to stop this talk about marriage. And what of the Whigs? What had they done for him? Fox ... Fox had denied his marriage in Parliament, he had ruined his case for the Regency by talking of rights. What did he owe the Whigs?

"Yes, Father," he said, "I will receive Tories at Carlton House."

The King nodded; and the two smiled at each other, on better terms than they had been for many years. But the Prince knew who had suggested those terms to his father and he hated the Queen more than ever.

Shortly after the debts of the Prince of Wales had been settled Frederick, Duke of York, presented himself to the King with a similar request.

"Money, money, money," cried the King. "Can you never have enough of it."

The Duke of York placed his hand on his heart and bowed. "Never, sir," he said vehemently.

The King eyed his favourite son with affection.

"Now," he said to him: "There is one condition I must make before your debts are settled, my son."

"Name it," cried the Duke. " I accept it."

"Without hearing what it is, eh, what?"

"The pressing demands of my creditors are the most urgent consideration in my life, sir."

"It's marriage," said the King. "You must marry without delay."

The Duke grimaced. "Well, I'm ready to consider it, sir."

"More sensible than your brother." The King's eyes were clouded suddenly. "You are all a great worry to me. There's William setting up house with a play-actress... a Mrs. Jordan ... and aping a respectable married man."

"Better than aping a disreputable one, sir."

These sons of his disconcerted him. They could not be serious when situations demanded seriousness. "There's your brother, the Prince of Wales ... Oh, I don't know ... I do not know. I can't sleep of nights thinking of you all and wondering what will become of you. You understand that, eh, what?"

The Duke said gently: "Don't fret over me, Father. I will marry when you wish and whom you choose for me."

The King embraced his son. "Frederick ... I always said you were the Hope of the House. I always knew you would not fret me as your brother does."

"George does not mean to, Father. It's easier to be the Duke of York than the Prince of Wales. Besides, George is more flamboyant than I am . . . Larger than life, that's George. He's a fine fellow at heart. You can't blame him."

"You always stood together, you two."

"We never forget we're brothers."

The King was weeping silently. Then he said: "There won't be much delay. The Princess Royal of Prussia is the lady suggested for you, Frederica Charlotte Ulrica. You must make your preparations without delay for I think your brother's reluctance to consider providing us with an heir to the Crown makes this a necessity."

He would do it, said the Duke, not only for the settlement of his debts but for the sake of his dear brother George.

Frederick left almost immediately for Berlin where he was married to his bride. He was not very pleased with her for she was small, exceedingly plain and badly pockmarked; and she was no more pleased with him than he was with her. If he thought that he was doing her an honour by marrying her, she implied, she wished quickly to disillusion him. He might be the son of the King of England but she was the daughter of the King of Prussia—and in her eyes Prussia was of no less importance in the world than England.

The Duke shrugged his shoulders, went through the ceremony and consoled himself with the thought that marriage was not going to interfere with his life very much. He would do his duty—if possible provide an heir—and then go back to the pleasures of his bachelor existence. When he looked at his ugly little wife who constantly smelt of the animals which she kept in her apartments he consoled himself with the reminder that he had done it for George.

The wedding ceremony over they set out for England but unfortunately were obliged to travel through France—where the Revolution was raging. On more than one occasion their retinue was held up by a bloodthirsty mob and only the proof that they were not French royalists attempting to escape but an English Prince and a German Princess who had no concern with French internal affairs saved their lives, though the royal trappings were torn from their carriages and only then were they reluctantly allowed to escape.

It was November by the time they reached England and there another ceremony must take place; in this the Prince of Wales was selected to give the bride away.

The night before the ceremony the Duke of York was at Carlton House where he gave an account of his adventures to his brother.

"By God, George," he said, "revolution is a fearful thing. One doesn't realize it until one is in the midst of it. If it came here..."

The Prince was horrified at the thought.

"The royal family of France ... treated as they are. If you could have seen those people ... I never saw such fanatical hatred. It brings home to you how quickly the mob can rise up. The mob is always there ... that element of the people that wants to take what others have, the envious, the bloodthirsty. By God, George, when those people surrounded our coach it was an experience I shall never forget. One has to be watchful of the people. One has to please the people one rules. No doubt of it."

The Prince thought of the crowds which had surrounded his carriage after the King's recovery. Murderous lot! They wanted their rulers to behave according to a certain code. The Gordon Riots which had happened some years ago ... that was the nearest England had come to the sort of thing that was happening now in France. The cry of 'No Popery' had filled the streets. The people of England wanted a Protestant monarchy; they had turned out the Stuarts because they were Catholics. And he, the Prince of Wales, had gone through a ceremony of marriage with a Papist. Maria ... everything came back to Maria. He was unpopular with the people because of Maria.

He changed the subject hastily. He hated to talk of unpleasant things.

"Well, here you are safe and sound—and a bridegroom. Do you love your wife?"

The Duke grimaced. "To tell the truth I do not know whether I shall even be able to tolerate her. She is an arrogant little creature, very much aware of her dignity. And she is threatening to surround herself with animals ... dogs ... not one or two ... but twenty of them. And monkeys, if you please. She prefers them to the human animal, I do declare."

"My poor Frederick!"

"You may well condone. Lucky George with your Maria."

"Maria is a woman in a million. I shall expect your Frederica to receive her and treat her with the dignity due to ..."

"To the Princess of Wales? You can be sure I shall do my best to insist on this. But she is a selfwilled woman."

"Maria will expect to be treated as her sister-in-law."

"I will do my best," promised Frederick.

The next day at the marriage ceremony the bride was given away by the Prince of Wales. The streets were lined with people to see the bride and groom, for it was believed that since the Prince of Wales had contracted a marriage with Maria Fitzherbert which could never be acknowledged, this plain little German Princess might well one day be the Queen of England.

Frederick was soon wishing he had never married. He had believed that at least he could tolerate his wife, but that was not possible when she filled their house with animals of all descriptions. He lost count of the number of dogs, whose habits were none too clean; she had cages of parrots in every room; monkeys roamed through corridors and hung on bedposts and banisters.

Moreover, although she had received Mrs. Fitzherbert she showed quite clearly that she considered her merely the mistress of the Prince of Wales and that she had no intention of becoming on intimate terms with a woman in such a position.

Maria was incensed. It was not often that she lost her temper but she did over the Duchess of York. How dared the plain malodorous creature treat her with such haughty contempt! The Prince must insist that she stop that.

The Prince spoke to the Duke of York who declared that he had done everything in his power to make his wife treat Maria with due respect; she simply refused.

"But, Fred, you could insist."

"I do assure you, George, that I cannot make her do what she has decided not to. She is the most stubborn, arrogant creature you ever set eyes on."

"Try," said the Prince, "because it upsets Maria."

The Queen was delighted with the Duchess's attitude towards Maria and encouraged her in it because she knew it upset the Prince. As for the Duchess, who in any case was determined to have her own way, she maliciously made it more clear than ever that she regarded Maria Fitzherbert as her brother-in-law's mistress. She herself stood a very good chance of becoming Queen and she did not forget it. No one was going to dictate to her.

She quarrelled with her husband over it. But then she quarrelled with him over many things. He hated her beloved animals and was always pointing out their unclean habits. If he did not like it he could go, she told him. They Were more important to her than he was.

The Prince of Wales believed that Frederick could have insisted on his wife's accepting Maria, in spite of Frederick's vehement assurance that he could do nothing; and for the first time in their lives a coolness sprang up between the two brothers.

Frederick retaliated by leaving his wife alone as much as possible and seeking new friends with whom he could continue the life of wild extravagance he had led before his marriage, and the Prince of Wales brooded on the deterioration in his friendship with this beloved brother.

It all came back to Maria, he told himself. Memories of the mob which had surrounded his carriage; echoes of accounts told by his brother of the journey through France; he should have been a model prince married to a princess; they should have children. Children! That was what he missed. His friendship with Fred was impaired. Who would have thought that possible?

And all because of Maria.

Sometimes a thought came into his head which he tried not to examine too closely.

It was: Is she worth it?

The Prince consoled himself by going down to Brighton. He would arrive in early spring and stay until late autumn. He came to London only when it was absolutely necessary and a large portion of Carlton House was closed for the greater part of the year. Maria was constantly with him, living in the house close to the Pavilion. He made extensive alterations to the place and it was beginning to look like an oriental palace and very different from old Kemp's Farm which Weltje had discovered some years ago. The people of Brighton, in contrast to those of London, continued to treat him as though he were their king—and Mrs. Fitzherbert their queen.

Racing provided one of his most enjoyable pastimes until a scandal at Newmarket interrupted his pleasure in the sport. Two days before a big race his horse, Escape, was beaten by two outsiders, with the result that on the day of the race the odds were against it. There was great consternation in racing circles when Escape effortlessly came in first, and unpleasant comment followed when it was learned that the Prince and his jockey, Sam Chifney, had each made a fortune on the race. The murmurings were, in fact, against Chifney rather than the Prince, but when an investigation was made, nothing could be proved against the jockey. The rumours, however, persisted and the Prince, so humiliated and disgusted, sold his stud and gave up racing, although he kept a stable of hunters which he used regularly.

The scandal was repeated throughout the country to the delight of the Queen, who could never hear a word against her eldest son without showing her pleasure. As for Maria she was not sorry that he had lost interest in racing which was responsible for a large part of his financial embarrassment.

They were both disturbed by the news from the Continent which was growing worse; and when it was known that the King of France had been executed a feeling of horror swept through the whole country. Refugees began arriving at Brighton in their hundreds and the Prince and Maria agreed that every hospitality must be afforded them.

When news reached the Prince that a party of nuns had arrived at Shoreham in a pitiable condition, having been several days crossing the Channel in fishing boats, he and Maria between them arranged that they should be brought to Brighton and housed at the Ship Inn until he could make some arrangements for them.

Together he and Maria collected money for them; and when they arrived at the Ship Inn and their sad condition had been alleviated he went to see them.

They did not know how to express their gratitude and the tears fell copiously on both sides, but the Prince was genuinely sorry and it was he who arranged for the nuns to find a home in a Somerset convent.

All during that summer the refugees continued to arrive and no one was more zealous in offering them assistance than the Prince of Wales—with Maria at his side. This task of helping the refugees brought them closer together.

When the beautiful twenty-one-year-old Duchesse de Noailles was found on the beach, exhausted and shocked from the crossing, Maria took her into her home and looked after her. This the Prince applauded, but when Maria found that his interest in the beautiful Duchesse was becoming too intent, she tactfully arranged other accommodation for the lady in London.

The Prince often brooded on the fate of these refugees and discussed the conditions which had brought about the Revolution with men like the Dean of Rouen and the Archbishop d'Avranches to whom he was able to offer hospitality in their dire need.

Could it happen here? he asked himself; and the smiles and cheers of the people of Brighton were more welcome than they had ever been. But rulers must constantly please the people whom they rule for it was the people who decided how long they should continue to be rulers. It was a lesson one must never forget. And what had he done? He had displeased the people because he had gone through a ceremony of marriage with a Catholic. If it were known ...

Oh Maria, Maria, what have I done for you?

He was becoming irritable with her, and as she was aware of his increasing infidelities she was tense and nervous and sometimes unable to control her temper.

A young lady named Miss Paget was the cause of a really violent quarrel between them. She was a young woman of good family whom Maria had wished to launch into society. There was nothing extraordinary in this. Maria had launched many daughters of her friends. She enjoyed pleasing them; and she was fond of young women.

Maria had discovered the letter on the floor of her dressing room. She had read it before she realized that it was addressed to the Prince and certainly not meant for her to see.

"Miss Paget regrets it is not in her power to comply with the wishes of His Royal Highness to their fullest extent, but in a matter of so much delicacy there is not anything Miss Paget would not do to accomplish this purpose which he has in view and thereby contribute to his personal happiness. As secrecy in a matter of this kind is of the greatest moment, il His Royal Highness will confer on Miss Paget the honour of meeting her at the faro table of the Duchess of Cumberland on Tuesday, the business may be arranged to the entire satisfaction of His Royal Highness."

Maria read the letter and a rare anger took possession of her. There could be no mistaking the meaning of the note. He had been unfaithful before, but he was carrying on this affair under her own roof and with a girl who was her protege.

She would hide her suspicions, however, and the following day accompanied the deceitful Miss Paget—who was playing the innocent girl with such perfection that Maria thought she must have imagined the whole affair—to Cumberland House, where they were received with pleasure by the Duke and Duchess. In due course the Prince arrived. Maria watched him closely; he did not speak to Miss Paget but she fancied their glances met and that the arrangement was made.

The Prince roamed through the company bestowing his smiles liberally, chatting with Maria, as affectionately as ever until the Duchess asked the company if they would care to pass to the card tables, as play was about to begin. And suddenly there was the Prince beside Miss Paget and as they passed into the card room, the pair disappeared. It was impossible for such an illustrious guest to disappear without notice and speculative-glances were exchanged.

So Maria Fitzherbert's young guest was the new young lady, was she? Poor Maria! What she had to put up with from their naughty Prince!

Maria nursed her resentment during the game and as early as possible said goodbye to her hostess and, not waiting for Miss Paget, she went back to her house in Pall Mall.

After a sleepless night Maria arose determined on action. She took a dish of chocolate in her room, being unable to eat anything, and then going down to her drawing room sent one of the servants to Miss Paget's room to tell her that she wished to see her as soon as possible.

The young lady appeared looking innocent and undisturbed although she must have been surprised that Maria had gone home without her on the previous night. Who had brought her back? wondered Maria. She could guess it was the Prince.

"Good morning," said Maria coolly.

"Good morning," cooed Miss Paget.

I have sent for you," went on Maria, "to tell you that you are no longer my guest and it will be agreeable to me if you select another place of residence."

"But..."

Maria turned away. "I will tell one of the servants to pack your bags without delay."

"But where...? What...?"

"I do not think you need further explanation," said Maria. "And I have no wish to discuss the matter."

Miss Paget burst into tears; but long association with the Prince had led Maria to distrust this form of emotion.

She walked out of the room and in half an hour Miss Paget's bags were packed and Mrs. Fitzherbert's carriage was waiting to take her back to her family.

Miss Paget went instead to Carlton House where amid floods of tears she told the Prince what had happened.

He was alarmed. Miss Paget was a pretty creature but not worth a quarrel with Maria. She must go back to her family and he would see that she had a handsome husband who should make up to her for all she had endured.

Somewhat mollified Miss Paget left and the Prince went at once to Maria.

He went straight into the attack. "How could you be so ungracious to a guest ... and a guest who is almost as much my guest as yours. To turn the girl away ..."

"Don't waste your sympathy on her. As you will have discovered she is not so innocent as she appears."

"She was a guest."

"A very special guest of Your Highness's."

"No, Maria, this is foolish jealousy on your part."

She told him of the letter she had seen. She had read it and she remembered every word. There was no doubt in her mind what it meant ... and then his conduct with the brazen creature...

"My dear Maria, it was unpardonable of you to read a guest's letters."

T found it, so naturally I read it."

"Most unnaturally! It was most dishonourable and the height of bad manners."

"And what of your manners in seducing a young girl in my care?"

"Seducing the girl? What nonsense!"

His lies were as facile as his tears.

She told him so. "Do you think I cannot see through you? Do you think I'm a fool?"

"My dear love ..."

She threw him off. "Perhaps these women believe your protestations. I have learned to distrust them."

Maria was magnificent in her fury ... like a queen of tragedy. A damned attractive woman, Maria; and no other light affair could ever compare with his marriage to her. In his heart he regarded it as a marriage and always would, he told himself. But he must placate her. Now what was this letter. He could explain everything.

And he did in most glib manner.

"It's those debts, Maria, those damned debts. The bane of my life. They are bothering me again. Why cannot these people exercise a little patience? They'll get their money in time. I did something rather foolish, Maria. This Miss Paget of yours..."

"Of mine?"

"Your guest, my dear love, and she is nothing to me ... absolutely nothing."

"You will have to convince me of that."

"I can ... with ease ... the utmost ease. I was telling you of these debts. Her family is very rich, as you know, and I am getting desperate. I can't go to my father again .. "

"Oh, these debts" cried Maria in exasperation. "Why cannot we live within our means?"

"I should like that, Maria ... the two of us in a country house somewhere like the Pavilion."

The Pavilion! She laughed. That costly country house on which he was spending a fortune!

"Just the two of us, Maria. Well, I was foolish enough to ask Miss Paget for a loan of £10,000. Now you wondered why we disappeared together at Cumberland's. She had brought me some of the money ... as she said in the letter. But not all. She brought seven thousand pounds, which is very useful as you can realize, Maria."

"Very," she said, "if she ever gave it to you."

"I am telling you what happened."

"And I am telling you that I don't believe a word of it."

"Now, Maria, are you telling me that I am a liar?"

She pushed him from her and walked to the door. "Yes," she said, "I am. I have long known that you were skilled in that art."

"This is no way to talk to your husband."

"My husband," she said. "Will you go to your family and call yourself that? I must endure sly looks. I must be insulted by your brother's wife. And you allow it to happen. Please go now before I lose my temper."

"Before you have lost it? That is a joke."

In a sudden irresistible irritation she took off her shoe and threw it at him. It caught the diamond star on his jacket.

He stood staring at it as it lay on the floor.

Then he strode out of the room and went back to Carlton House.