Those who have read the preceding pages will remember the birth of the "Lady Augusta," because of the quarrel that event occasioned between her father, Frederick, Prince of Wales, and her grandfather, George II. She grew up a beautiful, accomplished woman,—the favorite sister of George III., whose protection she was forced to seek after she had reached middle age. We have nothing to do with that part of her life, however, nor with her childhood, which was passed quietly with scarcely any remarkable incidents. When she was twenty-seven years of age she married Charles William Frederick, Hereditary Prince of Brunswick, a man distinguished for his fine appearance, courtly manners, and heroism on the field of battle.
He soon won the heart of "Lady Augusta," and she promised to marry him, though the king and queen were by no means pleased with the match. When the prince arrived on English soil the people of Harwich pressed forward in crowds to have a look at him, and a simple-hearted Quaker forced his way into the bridegroom's apartments, and taking off his hat, said: "Noble friend, give me thy hand!" It was given to him, and after kissing it, he added, "Although I do not fight myself, I love a
brave man that will fight; thou art a valiant prince and art to be married to a lovely princess; love her, make her a good husband, and the Lord will bless thee both!"
This was the warmest greeting the bridegroom received in England, for the royal couple treated him with marked coldness, and Queen Charlotte did all she could to prevent too great an outlay of money. To be sure, she gave the bride a gold watch set with jewels of exquisite workmanship, and George III. presented her a diamond necklace worth thirty thousand pounds; but everything pertaining to the wedding was conducted on a very simple scale, considering the rank of the principal parties concerned, and not a gun was fired by way of congratulatory salute. The servants of the royal household were not even permitted to put on their new attire, either for the wedding ceremony or the drawing-room, which was held next day; but were ordered to reserve them for the queen's birthday.
As soon as the marriage ceremony was performed the bridal pair drove to the Leicester House, where a splendid supper awaited them. It was a season when political party spirit ran high, and George III. took great pains to conceal the unpromising condition of affairs from the prince. But it would have been a very unobservant person who had failed to notice the difference between the enthusiasm accorded to the young couple on their arrival at the theatre a few nights later, and the lack of it that signalized the entrance of their majesties. Queen Charlotte was young then, and it is certain that she did not love the bride and groom any better because of their seeming popularity.
Horace Walpole describes their visit on the next night at the Opera House thus: "The crowd is not to be described. Many noble ladies sat on chairs between the scenes; the doors of the boxes were thrown open, and the boxes were all filled to the back of the stoves; nay, women of fashion stood on the very stairs till eight at night. In the middle of the second act the Hereditary Prince of Brunswick turned his back to the king and queen, pretending to offer his place to Lady Tankerville. You know enough of Germans and their stiffness to etiquette to be sure that this could not be done inadvertently, especially as he repeated this only without standing up with one of his own gentlemen in the third act."
Now it is very probable that the prince was far from pleased at the treatment he had received at the hands of his bride's brother and sister-in-law; but it is scarcely likely that he would be guilty of a desire to insult the king, whose guest he was. Several grand balls succeeded the wedding, and then the bride and groom went in separate carriages, each with three uninteresting attendants, on their way to Harwich. Arriving at the sea-coast, they embarked on separate yachts for Holland, and had such a tempestuous voyage that they were in great danger most of the way. This seems a rather unsociable way of travelling; but perhaps court etiquette required the prince and princess each to have a different ship.
A grand ovation awaited them all along the route to their home-in Brunswick, where they were greeted with a hearty welcome by all the ducal family. This union proved a happy one; but we shall have nothing more to say about it, merely having introduced the Prince and Princess of Brunswick, because they became the parents of Caroline Amelia Elizabeth, the subject of this sketch.
A.D. 1768. Caroline, their second daughter, was born in 1768. Her home education was very imperfect, for there was a lack of discipline in it that colored her after-life. It was her misfortune that she early discovered how to be mistress of her weak-minded mother, for whom she had, in consequence, little respect. She was good-hearted, but utterly wanting in tact and common sense.
As a punishment for certain indiscretions, she was not allowed to appear at court for a few months; and when she returned an aged lady kindly said that she hoped it would not be necessary for her to be dismissed again, whereupon she pertly replied: "Gone is gone, and will never return, and what is to come will come of itself." Caroline delighted in making dashing, fearless remarks that too often excited a smile and encouraged a repetition. After a lesson in natural history, her governess once asked, "In what country is the lion to be found?" "Well," answered the princess deliberately, "I should say, you may find him in the heart of a Brunswicker." When taking part in any boisterous game, of which she was very fond, if her attendant warned her of danger, she would reply: "A Brunswicker dares do anything!" or, "A Brunswicker does not know that thing,—fear."
A.D. 1780. "How would you define time and space?" asked her father, when she was not more than twelve years of age. "Space is in the mouth of Madame von L—————," she answered, "and time is in her face." When told that it was not becoming for so young a lady to have opinions of her own, she rather cleverly returned, "People without opinions of their own are like those barren tracts which will not bear grass."
This young princess's religious education was as sadly neglected as her home-training. Like many other royal German ladies, she could not decide what church she was to join, until she knew what prince she was to marry; and then, having been taught morality, but no creed, the princesses were ready to adapt their consciences to the Greek, Roman Catholic, or Protestant faith, just as it happened. Two offers of marriage had been refused by Princess Caroline, when the Duke of York, commander of the English force in Holland, made a visit to his aunt at the court of Brunswick, and was so favorably impressed with his young cousin that he went back home with quite a flattering report about her. George III. had never seen his niece; but, when he heard so much about her, he began to consider what sort of a match he could manage between her and his eldest son, the Prince of Wales.
A.D. 1794. Of this prince so much has been said in the previous reign that it will be necessary for us to take up his life only at the time of his marriage. As his union with Mrs. Fitzherbert was illegal, the prince provided for her a sumptuous house at Brighton, and finding himself over head and ears in debt, agreed to take a wife who could help him out of his dilemma. It must not be supposed that the Prince of Brunswick would or could pay the seventy thousand pounds that the Prince of Wales owed, but parliament had agreed to do so if he would consent to marry. So for the sake of his creditors, and his own peace of mind with regard to them, he wrote to Caroline of Brunswick, and offered her his hand in marriage. She replied coolly but favorably; and, as the prince's financial affairs were getting more and more desperate, what, with horse-racing and all sorts of dissipation, he lost no time in setting on foot the arrangements for his marriage.
Lord Malmesbury was selected for the prince's proxy, and he was instructed to bring Princess Caroline to England without using any discretion in the matter whatever. He reached Brunswick on the twenty-eighth of November, and was received with a most enthusiastic welcome. Then he saw the future Queen of England for the first time. She was an accomplished, high-spirited girl of twenty-seven, who spoke English fluently, and dressed tastefully. She had fair hair, expressive, almond-shaped eyes, good teeth, and a delicately formed mouth. Her face was pretty, but her figure was rather undersized and not graceful. This was a slight defect compared with one of which Lord Malmesbury speaks in his diary. We refer to uncleanliness, which seems to have been sadly apparent in this pretty creature, and was in great part due to her bad training.
The duchess was indiscreet enough to talk disparagingly of Queen Charlotte to the English ambassador; but she was so fond of gossip that she could not lose this opportunity of telling how she had been an object of envy and dislike to her sister-in-law, who had been ready to quarrel with King George because he had given her a handsome diamond ring on her marriage. "George is more kind-hearted than wise-headed," she added, "and loves me as well as he could love anybody."
Lord Malmesbury had not been in Brunswick more than a week when Major Hyslop arrived with a portrait of the Prince of Wales, and a private letter to his envoy, urging him to set out with the Princess Caroline immediately. Whether it was impatience to possess his bride, curiosity to behold her, or the increasing demands of creditors that prompted the message, we can only guess; but the marriage was celebrated on the eighth of December, just five days after Major Hyslop's arrival.
Lord Malmesbury was the person to name the day of departure for England, and after a consultation with the Duke of Brunswick, he wrote the bridegroom that providing he received intelligence of the sailing of the fleet from England, which was to serve for a wedding escort, by the eleventh, he should set out on that day with the princess.
The Duke of Brunswick spent his mornings in consultations with Lord Malmesbury, and these were succeeded by public dinners and operas, the Princess Caroline appearing on each occasion as the heroine. The father begged of the ambassador always to recommend to the princess discretion, adding: "She is not a fool, but she has no judgment; she is too curious, and too free in expressing her opinions aloud about people." Thus Lord Malmesbury became a sort of mentor to the young bride, and constantly gave her instructions how to act, well knowing that she would have to be very discreet if she was to succeed in her new position.
Lord Malmesbury escorted the princess to a masquerade ball at the court opera house, and acted as a check on her whenever she seemed disposed to enter into the spirit of the fun, as she had done before her marriage. A strange conversation took place between these two during one of these dances. They had retired to one of the private boxes, and the bride repeated the questions regarding her future state that naturally occupied her mind all the time. Among other things, Lord Malmesbury told her that she should never miss going to church on Sundays, as the king and queen were always punctual in their attendance. This did not please the princess, and she inquired if the prince was like his parents in that respect. Lord Malmesbury replied, that if he were not, she would bring him to it; and if he would not go with her she would do well to set a good example and go with him. "You must tell him that the fulfilling regularly and exactly this duty can alone enable you to perform exactly and regularly those you owe him. This cannot but please him, and will in the end induce him to go to church."
The envoy well knew that no amount of advice or training could fit a young, innocent woman to conform to the habits of the prince whom he represented. The princess thought his conversation very serious for a masquerade, and told him so, whereupon he gayly defended himself; but he took another opportunity to say that, "in the order of society those of a very high rank have a price to pay for it. The life of a Princess of Wales is not to be one of pleasure, dissipation, and enjoyment. The advantages belonging to it must be purchased by sacrifices, which must be constantly repeated."
Princess Caroline took all that Lord Malmesbury told her in good part, and even expressed a desire that he should be her lord-chamberlain when she established her household, but though he felt flattered at this mark of her esteem, he said that he desired no favors. So the guardian got on very well with his ward, though she said, wearily one day that she "never should be able to learn all those things."
At length the time approached for the departure of the bride. It was her desire to take one Mademoiselle Rosenzweit with her to England as "a sort of reader," but as soon as the prince heard of it he peremptorily objected, and said that he would not have her in that or any other capacity. The Duke and Duchess of Brunswick were very angry at this exercise of authority on the part of the bridegroom, but they were forced to submit. However, the duke took occasion to say to the envoy that the reason why he was anxious to have Mademoiselle Rosenzweit with his daughter was that she could write and spell, in which accomplishments the princess failed, therefore her services would be needed.
At last, on the twenty-ninth of December, the bride left Brunswick, but it was three months before she reached England. This delay was caused by the war which was raging between the French on one side and the Dutch and English on the other. Major Hyslop went forward to give notice in case of danger, and to see that all necessary arrangements were completed for the comfort of the party. The citizens of Brunswick gathered in crowds to bid farewell to their princess, and a volley was fired from the ramparts as she passed out of her native town.
For three days the travellers continued on their way, but made very slow progress, for they were often detained by the movements of the troops, and suffered considerably from cold. The princess found her lady companions so dull and stupid that she invited Lord Malmesbury to ride in her coach with her, but he declared that it would be a breach of etiquette, at which the princess laughed very heartily; but he was far too proper a person to consent to anything of which all the world would not approve, so the bride was forced to submit.
A.D. 1795. There was a delay of several days at Osnaburg, and Lord Malmesbury relates an anecdote as an illustration of the princess's lack of judgment. There were a great many poor French emigrants at this place, some of them actually dying of hunger and exposure. When Caroline saw them she was filled with compassion, but did not know how to set about assisting them. "I tell her liberality and generosity are an enjoyment, not a severe virtue," says the lord mentor in his notes. "She gives a louis for some lottery tickets; I give ten, and say the princess ordered me to do it. She looked surprised, and I told her that I was sure she did not mean to give only the value of the ticket, and that I merely forestalled her intention. Next day an emigrant with a pretty child draws near the table; the Princess Caroline immediately, of her own accord, puts ten louis in a paper and gives it to the child. The duchess, who goes with us as far as the sea, observes it, and inquires of me what it was. I tell her a demand on her purse; she looks embarrassed, and says, in French, 'I have only my pretty double Brunswick louis, which would look prettier in the hands of that child than in your pocket,' I answered. She felt ashamed, and gave three of them. In the evening, Princess Caroline, to whom this sort of virtue was never preached, on my praising the coin of the Brunswick money, offers me very seriously eight or ten double louis, saying (in French, which we translate): 'Oh, I beg of you to take them; they are a mere trifle—of no consequence whatever.' This shows how little she could distinguish between benevolence and the mere act of throwing away money like a child. I took an opportunity at supper of defining to her what real charity was, and I recommended it to her as a quality that would, if rightly employed, make her more admirers and give her more satisfaction, than any that human nature could possess. The idea was perfectly new to her, but she felt the truth of it; and she certainly is not fond of money, as both her parents are."
On the 18th of January the escort wrote: "Princess Caroline was very miss-ish at supper. I much fear these habits are irrevocably rooted in her. She is naturally curious and a gossip; she is quick and observing, and she has a silly pride of finding out everything.. She thinks herself particularly acute in discovering likings, and this leads her at times to the most improper remarks and conversation. I am determined to take an opportunity of correcting her, cost what it may."
Princess Caroline flattered herself that she would reform her husband; for although Lord Malmesbury had dropped numerous hints as to his vices, he had so whitewashed the general character of the prince as to make him appear far less of a scapegrace than he really was. She knew of his disagreement with his parents, but thought she would be able to act the part of the good angel, and reconcile them; that she would domesticate him and give him a taste for virtue, and thus gain for herself and him the blessings of a grateful nation. Thus, filled with good intentions, did this young bride declare herself ready, and with confidence in her own capacity, to undertake the reformation of a man she had never seen. She was not long, poor girl! in finding out how utterly useless such a task would be, and how impossible even to make the attempt.
The travellers did not reach Hanover until the twenty-fourth of January, and they had suffered so intensely from the severe weather that the duchess was as cross and ill-natured as possible, while her daughter preserved her patience and good humor throughout the journey. There was one matter that gave Lord Malmesbury great concern, and that was the toilette of his charge. During their sojourn of three weeks at Hanover he had several discussions with her upon this subject, and this is what he wrote on the eighteenth of February, in his diary: "Argument with the princess about her toilette. She piques herself on dressing quickly; I disapprove this. She maintains her point; I, however, desire Madame Busche to explain to her that the prince is very delicate, and that he expects a long and very careful toilette, of which she has no idea. On the contrary, she neglects it sadly, and is offensive from this neglect. Madame Busche executes her commission well, and the princess comes out the next day well washed all over."
The Madame Busche, to whom the lord refers, was a court lady, who attended the princess from Brunswick. It would quite be edifying could we be informed what argument she brought to bear in order to induce the bride to take a bath; but it is to be hoped that once having discovered the necessity of daily ablutions, there was no need of further reminders on that subject. But washing alone was not enough; the princess was so untidy about her clothing that her escort was forced to make another appeal to the court ladies, since he scarcely dared to broach so delicate a point to the princess herself.
He says: "I had conversations with the Princess Caroline on the toilette, on cleanliness and on delicacy of speaking. On these points I endeavored, as far as it was possible for a man, to inculcate the necessity of great and nice attention to every part of dress,—as well to what was hid as what was seen. I knew she wore coarse petticoats, coarse chemises, and thread stockings, and these never well washed or changed often enough. I observed that a long toilet was necessary, and gave her no credit for boasting that hers was a short one. What I could not say myself on this point I got said through women: through Madame Busche, and afterwards through Mrs. Harcourt. It is remarkable how amazingly on this point her education has been neglected, and how much her mother, although an Englishwoman, was inattentive to it. I had another conversation with her on speaking slightingly to the duchess; being peevish to her, and often laughing at her or about her. On that point I talked very seriously indeed—said that nothing was so extremely improper, so radically wrong; that it was impossible, if she reflected for a moment, that she should not be sorry for every disrespectful word she uttered to her mother, who always showed the most tender affection for her. The princess felt this, and it made a temporary impression. But on this, as on all other subjects, I have had too many opportunities to observe that her heart is very, very light, incapable of strong or lasting feelings. In some respects this may make her happier, but certainly not better."
At last news came that the fleet had arrived off Stade, and that was a signal for the mother and daughter to part. The duchess was affected to tears; but Caroline behaved with sense and propriety, and kept up her spirits all the way. Three days later the bridal party reached the coast, and embarked on board the "Jupiter," a fifty-gun ship, while the rest of the fleet poured forth a thundering salute.
One of the ladies selected to attend the bride was Mrs. Harcourt, who had met her at Hanover; the other was Lady Jersey, who awaited her in England. The squadron arrived off Yarmouth in due season; but a thick fog set in, and it was not until noon on Saturday, a week from the day of sailing, that they dropped anchor off Gravesend. The princess won the hearts of the officers and seamen by her cheerfulness and affability, which called forth the praise even of Lord Malmesbury.
On Sunday morning the bridal party was transferred to one of the royal yachts, and, after a pleasant sail, reached Greenwich at noon. Vast crowds had assembled to greet the princess, but not the bridegroom or any of his family. There was a delay of more than an hour, because the lady-in-waiting was behindhand, and had kept the carriages until she was ready. When she did at last arrive she turned up her nose at the costume of the princess, and behaved so rudely that Lord Malmesbury had to take her to task for it. This costume consisted of a muslin gown over a blue satin petticoat, with a black beaver hat, in which were blue and black plumes. Lady Jersey had brought a rich white satin frock and an elegant turban, which the bride was required to put on at the governor's house before proceeding to London.
The procession, consisting of two coaches, each drawn by six white horses, and escorted by a detachment of the prince's own regiment, then started, and the bride must have been somewhat surprised at the small greeting and applause she met by the way.
About half-past two she alighted at St. James's Palace, and was conducted to the rooms of the Duke of Cumberland, which had been prepared for her use. Then the windows were opened, and the princess stepped out upon the balcony to show herself to the crowd. Lord Malmesbury at once went for the prince, who, it must be admitted, had not shown much eagerness to behold the bride. How the poor stranger's heart must have fluttered at this moment, with none of her own countryfolk near to advise and guide her! She had not long to wait; for the prince soon appeared, and this is the report of the interview as given by the lord, whose duties were not yet over: "I, according to the established etiquette, introduced (no one else being in the room) the Princess Caroline to him. She, very properly, in consequence of my saying it was the right mode of proceeding, attempted to kneel to him. He raised her gracefully enough, and embraced her, said barely one word, turned round, retired to a distant part of the apartment, and calling me to him, said: 'Harris, I am not well; pray get me a glass of brandy.' I said, 'Sir, had you not better have a glass of water?'—upon which he, much out of humor, said, with an oath, 'No! I will go directly to the queen. And away he went. The princess, left during this short moment alone, was in a state of astonishment, and on my joining her, said: 'Mon Dieu, is he always like that? I find him very fat, and not at all like the picture he sent me.'" No wonder she was shocked at such treatment; it was a wretched beginning to her new life, and showed, even more plainly than she suspected, what her future treatment was to be.
Lord Malmesbury tried to mend matters as best he could, and stammered out a lame apology: "His royal highness was a good deal affected and flurried at this first meeting; but would be better by dinner-time." Of course the princess was not to be deceived by such an excuse, and embarrassed her companion by indulging in no end of uncomplimentary remarks. Relief came to him in the shape of a summons to wait upon the king at once.
Strange as it may appear, his majesty immediately began to discuss the war and foreign politics; and then, having satisfied himself on these points, suddenly seemed to remember the purpose of Lord Malmesbury's mission to the continent. He had only one question to ask about his son's wife: "Is she good-humored?"
"I have never seen her otherwise, even when severely tried," was the reply. "I glad of it," said the king, significantly; for he well knew what need she would have of that quality.
Lady Jersey acted as a spy while waiting on the princess, and had managed to worm a secret out of her during the short time they were at Greenwich together, which she lost no time in communicating to the prince. This was a love affair with a young German, and the knowledge of it made the prince exceedingly angry. That evening at dinner, the princess behaved absurdly. She was "flippant, rattling, affecting raillery and wit," that proved her a very coarse, vulgar person. The bridegroom was thoroughly disgusted and everybody else astonished; for there was none of the shyness or reserve that would seem natural and becoming to a young woman in such a position.
When opportunity offered, the prince asked Harris what he thought of the princess's manners, and took him to task for bringing her to England at all. Lord Malmesbury then informed the prince of the injunctions he had received from the Duke of Brunswick, at the same time assuring him that he had observed only slight defects of character, that he hoped might be amended, and adding, that no discretion had been left to him in the matter, as he had merely been ordered to ask for the hand of the Princess Caroline in marriage, and nothing more, and that he would not have presumed to give any opinion of his own upon the lady, unless requested to do so; and even in that case it would only have been in strict confidence to the king himself. The prince sighed, but he was not consoled, and his disgust for his bride was fast turning to hatred.
After the dinner was over the king and queen, with other members of the family, arrived, and the princess was presented in due form. The king was kind and affectionate towards his niece, but the queen was so cold and unfriendly that everybody present noticed it. On the eighth of April all the royal family dined together at the Queen's Palace, Buckingham House, and after the meal they retired to their separate apartments to dress for the wedding ceremony, which took place at night. It was performed in the Chapel Royal at St. James's by the Archbishop of Canterbury. The prince handed his hat with its rich diamond buckle to Lord Harcourt to hold, and then made him a present of it. During the procession it was noticed that the Prince and Princess of Wales scarcely addressed a single remark to each other, although they walked side by side. Some chroniclers say that the prince had partaken so freely of wine during the dinner which
The Queens of England. preceded the ceremony that he had to be held up in the chapel between two dukes, and scarcely seemed aware of what he was about. This may not be a fact, but he certainly behaved very strangely during the ceremony; for he got up from his knees at the wrong time and interrupted the archbishop, who stood silently wondering what he intended to do. It was the king who stepped forward and whispered to his son, who then resumed his position, and allowed the service to be concluded. With the bridegroom behaving as he did, and taking no pains to conceal his displeasure, the wedding must have been a melancholy affair indeed. After all the legal formalities had been disposed of, there was a grand supper at Buckingham House, and at midnight the newly-wedded pair went to their own home at Carlton House. It is said they had their first quarrel on the way, which is not surprising if it be really true that the prince had been drinking too freely, and he was probably not more abstemious at supper than he had been at dinner. The city was illuminated, and there was great rejoicing in honor of the royal marriage, though perhaps a peep into the hearts of the principal parties concerned would have shown more cause to weep than to rejoice.
Two days after the marriage the royal couple returned to Windsor, where they spent a few days, then went to a country-seat belonging to the prince at Kempshott. The bride had only one lady-in-waiting with her at that time, and she was her sole female, companion; but the prince was surrounded by a lot of his low friends, who constantly were to be found, in one part of the house or another, in such a state of intoxication as to be sleeping and snoring on the sofas. After two or three weeks the "happy pair" established themselves at Carlton House, and then the princess was for the first time presented to the public at the theatre. The princess had evidently formed good resolutions, which appeared in her amiable and prudent behavior. The change that came over her later must, therefore, be attributed, in great part, to the ill-treatment she received at the hands of the ruffian she was so unfortunate as to have married.
The lady-in-waiting that was forced upon her was an objectionable person, and most disagreeable to the princess, who saw her treated with cordiality in the queen's house and even invited to play cards with the princesses. This was not customary, and King George expressed his disapproval of such proceedings, but he was overruled.
The first serious matter to which the prince turned his attention after his marriage was the payment of his debts, which were perfectly enormous. But he had accepted a wife solely on condition that his creditors should be satisfied; and when it was proposed by one of the members of parliament that a yearly deduction should be made out of his revenue for that purpose he was highly indignant. If he had been an honest man he would never have contracted debts that were far in excess of his income; but, having done so, he ought to have been eager to retrench. He preferred to throw himself on the mercy of his country, like a spendthrift and a pauper, and afterwards continue in his reckless course.
Princess Caroline was soon made aware that her marriage was part of a bargain, the price being the payment of her husband's debts; also that he had been formerly married to Mrs. Fitzherbert, on whom he had settled a superb mansion in Park Lane. No one can deny that the young wife had much to complain of, though it may not justify her future conduct.
While parliament remained in a state of indecision regarding the prince's debts, his brother, the Duke of Clarence, afterwards William IV., made an extraordinary harangue, which created no little surprise. He represented that it was taking advantage of the poor innocent prince to make any opposition to the full payment of all his obligations, when it was well known that his consent to his marriage had been obtained with that understanding. This was certainly an honest speech, and perhaps a proof of brotherly interest and partisanship; but it can scarcely be pronounced discreet or delicate.
At last, after no end of propositions, debates, and disputes, Mr. Pitt's suggestion was agreed upon. This was an income of one hundred and twenty-five thousand pounds a year for the prince, besides his revenue from the duchy of Cornwall, of thirteen thousand pounds more. In addition, the princess was to have fifty thousand pounds, besides twenty thousand pounds for jewels, and twenty-six thousand pounds for the refurnishing of Carlton House. The old standing debts of the Prince of Wales were all settled, and this was no trifling affair; for to his ferrier alone he was indebted forty thousand pounds, and to his jeweller eighty-five thousand pounds. This included the four thousand pounds that the jewelled frame had cost in which the prince's miniature had been placed before it was sent to Brunswick. It is not surprising that the bride was disappointed when she beheld the original, after having viewed his flattered counterpart with such a surrounding.
A.D. 1796.
Long before the first year of their marriage was completed the princess was living almost in solitary confinement at Brighton, while her good-for-nothing husband was leading the gayest sort of an existence in London, courted and honored at all the brilliant parties he attended, and almost ignoring the fact that he had a wife. He had abandoned his extravagant court at Carlton House for a time, because he was not entirely satisfied with the revenue that had been settled on him; so he showed his discontent by assuming a theatrical air of injured innocence, poked his wife off in the country, and continued his shameful course.
Then, feeling justly indignant at her husband's neglect, and at the coldness of all of the royal family, excepting the old king, who was always her firm friend, the princess was guilty of an indiscretion, the effect of which went far towards completing her ruin. This consisted in writing letters to her relations in Brunswick, in which she not only complained piteously of her own position, but imprudently made use of very harsh terms towards the queen and the princesses, who she declared disliked her exceedingly, and seemed to take special pains to misrepresent her every action. Her situation was without doubt distressing, and it seems not unnatural for the young wife to yearn for some sympathizing friend in whose ear she could pour forth her tale of wrong and regret; but we know that lack of judgment was Princess Caroline's greatest fault, and it appears plainly in this, instance. She did not write a dignified, sorrowful appeal to her parents, telling them of her blasted hopes, and asking advice, for which there might have been some excuse; but she sent pages of gossip and sarcastic abuse of her relations in England to various parties in her native land, tittle-tattle, unwise as it was unrefined, and unladylike.
These letters she confided to the care of Doctor Randolph, a clergyman, who was going to Germany, and promised to deliver them. All his arrangements were made for the journey when Mrs. Randolph fell ill, and it was abandoned. The packet of letters written by the princess was forthwith returned under cover, addressed to Lady Jersey. That malicious spy carried them to the queen, by whom they were read, and displayed among the different members of the royal family, the Prince of Wales included. Of course this dishonorable action was not reported to the writer of the letters, who remained in ignorance of their fate for many years; therefore she continued to suffer from the ever-increasing coldness and disdain of her husband and his family, excepting the king, without being able to account for it. She had committed a fault, but compared with those of the prince it sinks into insignificance; for he was a heartless, treacherous reprobate from his cradle to his grave.
Princess Caroline had a little daughter born in the early part of the new year at Carlton House. The father pronounced her a "fine little girl," and she was christened Charlotte Augusta. The usual congratulatory addresses were prepared; yet, when the corporation of London desired to present theirs, they were informed that, as the prince had reduced his establishment, he was unable to receive them "in a manner suitable to the situation," yet they might send it to him. To this they very properly refused to listen, whereupon his royal highness sent for the Lord Mayor, and gracefully proclaimed his sentiments of veneration and esteem for the corporation of the city of London with many lame excuses for not receiving the address. He did not, however, add that he was at that very moment contemplating a final separation from the princess, which was his real reason for declining public rejoicings.
Soon after he went to Windsor to live, and the princess was so lonely with the few old people selected by the queen to be her companions that she complained both to the king and the prince. The consequence was a message sent to her through Lady Cholmondeley, saying that "they ought to separate." This was no shock to the young mother, who had been prepared by the prince's neglect to expect nothing better; but, when this message had been repeated several times, she merely replied, "That she would be quite happy to live with her husband provided a change was made in his behavior."
The prince's message was followed by a letter, in which, after writing "our inclinations are not in our power, nor should either of us be held answerable to the other because nature has not made us suitable to each other," he proposed that they should live apart, and meet in society merely as ordinary acquaintances. The injured wife agreed to this, only stipulating that the separation should be forever, and concluded her reply thus: "You will find enclosed a copy of my letter to the king. As I have at this moment no protector but his majesty, I refer myself solely to him on this subject; and, if my conduct meets his approbation, I shall be in some degree at least consoled.
"I retain every sentiment of gratitude for the situation in which I find myself as Princess of Wales; enabled by your
means to indulge in the free use of a virtue dear to my heart—I mean charity. It will be my duty likewise to act upon another motive, that of giving an example of patience and resignation under every trial."
In this dignified, sensible answer, the prince could see only that he was to be rid of the creature whom he had used as a tool to relieve him of his embarrassments, and agreed without a moment's hesitation to her wish that their separation should be final.
The king attempted to patch up a reconciliation, but did not succeed. He then suggested an allowance of twenty thousand pounds for the princess, but she declined any stipulated sum, and declared that her bills should be sent to the prince for settlement. Public opinion was in favor of the princess; and the first time she appeared at the opera, after the separation, she was greeted with a tremendous outburst of applause, that must have been galling to the prince. It certainly alarmed the poor lady, who said, "she supposed she should be guillotined on account of it." She had contrived before this to dismiss Lady Jersey, who was excessively obnoxious to her, and Lady Carnarvon and Mrs. Fitzroy were ladies-in-waiting in her stead.
The princess now gathered about her friends well known for their rank and respectability, all of whom were impressed by her good sense and discretion. This makes it very clear that she was driven, by a persistent course of ill-treatment, to the follies of her later life. It was so painful for her to appear at court, where she met with coldness and disdain, that she made a humble appeal, both to the king and the prince, to be relieved from doing so; and the public felt so much sympathy with her that her request could not be refused. The worthy old king had a warm feeling for his favorite sister's child, and was grieved at the indignity she had suffered; so he wrote her a kind, fatherly letter, urging her to make another attempt at reconciliation with the prince. His tone throughout was affectionate and sensible, and he advised her to intimate to her husband that she desired his return, and to promise that no reproaches should disturb his equanimity if he would consent. With the belief that the king would not so have written unless he had reason to suppose that his son was willing to become reconciled to her, the princess eagerly undertook the task of writing to him, and for the moment felt buoyed up with the hope of winning him. This is a copy of her letter:—
"I avail myself with the greatest ardor of the king's desire, whose letter shows me that you are willing to yield to his wishes, which fills me with the greatest delight. I look forward with infinite pleasure to the moment that will bring you to Carlton House, and that will forever terminate a misunderstanding which, on my side, I assure you, will never be thought of again. If you do me the honor of seeking my society in future, I will do everything to make it agreeable to you. If I should displease you, you must be generous enough to forgive me, and count upon my gratitude, which I shall feel to the end of my life. I may look for this as mother of your daughter, and as one who is ever yours."
This humble appeal had no effect on the prince, and, finding it treated with silent contempt, the princess gave up all hopes of a reconciliation, and went to live with a few ladies at Montague House, near Blackheath. Her little daughter was not allowed to accompany her, but was kept at Carlton House, under the direction of Lady Elgin and Miss Hayman, the sub-governess.
The prince continued to live at Carlton House, but saw very little of his daughter, because he had not much time for anything but his own pleasures, and she constituted no part of them. However, rather than leave her to the care of her mother, he assumed some concern for her welfare, and by his gracious and charming manners made a most favorable impression on Miss Hayman.
A.D. 1797. The princess visited her daughter about once a week, and loved the little thing so dearly that she made several applications to the prince to be allowed to have her at Montague House; but he never noticed them. Miss Hayman thus describes one of the royal mother's visits to the nursery:—
"The princess came in to see me and spoke very affably. She asked me if I did not find the infant wonderfully like the Prince of Wales, and whether I was fond of children, and added that her little Charlotte had been naughty, but was now, by Lady Elgin's care, quite good. She stayed about half an hour, and selected some lace for the baby's frocks. When Lady Elgin came in she said, 'Miss Hayman must now kiss her royal highness's hand;' but the princess got up and said, 'Oh, no! We will shake hands instead,' and turned the whole formality into a jest. She then began a gossiping conversation on novels, and showed throughout the warm-heartedness and kindliness, the indiscretion and want of dignity which, Lord Malmesbury had noticed in her."
Miss Hayman was removed from the royal nursery at the end of three months, because the princess seemed to favor her: but she was then taken into service at Montague House, where pleasant parties were often given, and the friends of the princess contrived to pass the time quite merrily. Sir Gilbert Elliot, Lord and Lady Wood, the Duke and Duchess of Hamilton, the Edens, and Lord Thurlow were among the guests, and, strange to say, the last was friend and adviser to both the Prince and Princess of Wales. Sir Gilbert Elliot constantly praises the conduct of the injured wife, and declares that she was utterly undeserving of "such strange neglect." He said of her besides: "Her countenance is remarkably lively and pleasing; I think her positively a handsome woman, but she is a little indiscreet; for she is apt to select any new guest, to whom she will pour out the whole story of her wrongs, while the rest stand about and look on."
The Princess Charlotte was sometimes taken to visit her mother. On one of these occasions she was permitted to remain in the drawing-room until dinner was announced, and all the guests pronounced her one of the finest and pleasantest of children. The mother got down on her knees and romped and played with her child for a long time. When the little girl became unruly one day, Miss Garth, a lady-in-waiting, said to her, "You have been so naughty, I don't know what we must do with you."
"You must soot me," she replied,—meaning shoot her.
Although the life of Princess Caroline was in some respects a sad one, she passed many pleasant hours in company with her friends, dancing, playing cards, blind man's buff, and other games, interspersed with musical parties.
A.D. 1798. After many months the idea of a reconciliation was broached by the prince and his advisers; but fancying that she saw some object for which she was again to be made a tool, the shrewd princess was determined that unless the matter was laid before her in due form she would treat it according to the example the prince had shown her. She was right; for Mrs. Fitzherbert, who always considered herself the only real wife of the Prince of Wales, was again honored by his attentions. She had been the person selected by himself for a wife, the Duke of York was her firm friend, the queen was kind and attentive, and George III. treated her with the tenderness of a father from the time of her landing in England until he ceased to reign. She was a good woman, and never in any way gave cause for scandal. On the contrary, when the prince, her husband, returned to live with her, she gave a public breakfast in honor of the event, and the following eight years were very happy ones to this couple.
At this period a taste for the best music and the stage was cultivated to a remarkable degree by the nobility. Both the king and the Prince of Wales extended their patronage to the opera, which was a pastime that only the aristocracy could indulge in, because it was too expensive for the general public. The royal family attended regularly, and the corps of actors included a great deal of talent. One of these was Elliston, who had a curious ad-venture with George III., by whom he had been commanded to appear in a certain part on his benefit-night.
The monarch had been taking a very long walk, entirely alone, when a sudden rain storm came up just as he was passing the theatre door. In he went, and meeting no one passed at once to the royal box, and seated himself in his own chair. The light in the theatre was dim, the air somewhat close, and the king, soon succumbing to the influence of both after his brisk walk, fell asleep. Towards night Elliston entered the theatre to make sure that everything was in readiness for the play; but first went to the king's box to inspect that. What was his surprise to find a man comfortably ensconced in his majesty's own arm-chair? He raised his hand and was just about to let it descend with a smart blow on the intruder's shoulder when he recognized the king. What was to be done? He dared not arouse the royal sleeper, and the time for the performance was approaching. Suddenly an idea struck him; softly stepping out of the royal box, he took a violin from the orchestra, and stationing himself in the pit just under the sleeper's nose, struck up "God save the King!" Up started his majesty, rubbing his eyes, and staring at the comedian, who went down on his knees, while continuing his tune. "Hey! hey! hey! What! what! Oh, yes! I see, Elliston—ha! ha! ha! Rain came on—took a seat—took a nap. What's o'clock?"
"Approaching six, your majesty."
"Six!—six o'clock!" exclaimed the king. "Send to her majesty—say I'm here. Stay—stay—this wig won't do—eh, eh? Don't keep the people waiting—light up—light up—let'em in—let'em in—ha! ha! ha! fast asleep! Play well to-night, Elliston. Great favorite with the queen. Let 'em in—let 'em in."
The house was illuminated at once; messengers were sent off to the royal family, and in a few minutes they reached the theatre. At the close of the performance, the comedian attended the king and queen to their carriage, and as he held open the door, his majesty laughingly exclaimed, "Fast asleep, eh, Elliston!—fast asleep! ha! ha! ha!"
A.D. 1801. By this time the king's health was seriously impaired; but of his condition and the causes, the chapter devoted to his reign contains an account. He was always friendly to his daughter-in-law, and said, again and again: "The princess shall have her child, and I will speak to Mr. Wyatt about building a wing to her present house." He meant well, but his mind was so feeble that he was to be depended on for nothing. The Prince of Wales bothered him, as he was constantly doing in one way or another, and sent a request through Mr. Addington, who had succeeded Mr. Pitt as prime minister, to be placed in command of the army. After a month's delay, the king, who had but a poor opinion of his eldest son's ability or courage, declared that there was no situation in the army suited to his rank; and not long after peace was concluded.