The Princess had cause then, and stronger reason soon after, for her melancholy. She had written a number of letters to her family and friends in Germany. These she intrusted to the Rev. Dr. Randolph, who was about to proceed to Brunswick, for delivery. The illness of Mrs. Randolph kept the doctor in England, and he returned the letters to the Princess of Wales, under a cover addressed to Lady Jersey. The letters fell into the Queen’s hands. This, however, was only discovered later; and the discovery accounted for the cold reserve of Queen Charlotte towards the Princess, for the letters contained some sarcastic remarks upon the Queen’s appearance and manners. In the meantime, on the packet failing to reach its proper owner, due inquiry was made, but nothing further was discovered, except that the reverend doctor declared that he had transmitted it to Lady Jersey, and that individual solemnly protested she had never received it. That it reached Queen Charlotte, was opened, and the contents read, was only ascertained at a later period.

In whatever rudeness of expression the Princess may have indulged, her fault was a venial one compared with those of her handsome and worthless husband. While she was in almost solitary confinement at Brighton he was in London, the most honoured guest at many a brilliant party, with Mrs. Fitzherbert for a companion. On several occasions these two were together, even when the Princess was present. The latter, by this time, knew of the private marriage of her husband with the lady, and that he had denied, through Fox, who was made the mouthpiece of the lie, that his ‘friendship’ with Mrs. Fitzherbert had ever gone to the extent of marriage. If we have to censure the after-conduct of the Princess, let us not forget this abominable provocation.

Except from the kindly-natured old King, Caroline experienced little kindness, even during the time immediately previous to the birth of her only child, the Princess Charlotte. This event took place at ten in the morning of the 7th of January 1796, amid the usual solemn formalities and the ordinary witnesses. Addresses of congratulation were not lacking. Among them the city of London prepared one for the Prince, but the conventionally ‘happy father,’ who had looked down upon his legitimate child with the critical remark that ‘it was a fine girl,’ declined to receive the congratulations of the City, unless in private. The pretext given was that a public reception was too expensive a matter in the Prince’s reduced condition; and the pretext was so insulting to the common sense of the corporation that the members very properly refused to ‘go up’ at all.

The truth was that the Prince shrunk from being congratulated upon his prospects as a husband, seeing that he was about to separate himself for ever from the society of his wife. The latter had caused the removal of Lady Jersey from her household. This was effected by the hearty intervention of him whom the Scottish papers not inaptly called that ‘decent man, the King.’

The intimation of the Prince’s desire for a separation was conveyed to the Princess of Wales by Lady Cholmondeley. Her Royal Highness made only two remarks—first, that her husband’s desire should be conveyed to her directly from himself in writing; and that, if a separation were now insisted on, the former intimacy should never under any circumstances be resumed.

If his Royal Highness had acceded to all his consort’s wishes with the alacrity with which he fulfilled this one in particular, there would have been more happiness at their hearth. In his letter to her he said: ‘Our inclinations are not in our power, nor should either of us be answerable to the other, because nature has not made us suitable to each other. Tranquillity and comfortable society are, however, in our power; let our intercourse, therefore, be restricted to that.’ It is what Froissart might call ‘sadly amusing’ to find him offering tranquillity when he was predisposed to persecute, and recommending that their intercourse should take the character of a ‘comfortable society,’ when he was about to turn her out of her home, and without any greater fault laid to her charge than that she had outlived his liking. With regard to the Princess’s expressed determination that, if there were a separation now, it must be ‘once and for ever,’ he agreed to it with alacrity; ‘even in the event,’ he said, ‘of any accident happening to my daughter, which I trust Providence in its mercy will avert, I will not infringe the terms of the restriction by proposing, at any period, a connection of a more particular nature.’

Her Royal Highness, in her reply, acknowledged that his conduct during the year of their married life saved her from being surprised by the communication addressed to her. She does not complain, desires it only to be publicly understood that the arrangement is not of her seeking, and that ‘the honour of it belongs to you alone;’ and appeals to the King, as her protector, whose approbation, if he can award as much to her conduct, would in some degree console her. ‘I retain,’ she thus concludes, ‘every sentiment of gratitude for the situation in which I find myself enabled, as Princess of Wales, by your means, to surrender myself unconstrainedly to the exercise of a virtue dear to my heart—I mean charity. It will be my duty, also, to be influenced by another motive—desire to give an example of patience and resignation under every trial.’

In October 1804 Mr. George Rose entered in his diary that the Princess of Wales had recently said to Mr. George Villiers: ‘I cannot say I positively hate the Prince of Wales, but I certainly have a positive horror of him.’ ‘They lived,’ adds Mr. Rose of the ill-matched pair, ‘in different houses, dined at different hours, and were never alone together. The Princess said: “Nothing shall shake the determination I have taken to live in no other way than the state of separation we are now in.”’

Exactly after a year’s experience of married life the luckless pair finally separated. The Princess’s allowance was at first fixed at 20,000l. per annum, but after some undignified haggling on both sides touching money, the Princess declined the allowance proposed and, throwing herself on the generosity of the Prince, rendered him liable for any debts she might possibly contract. ‘It was settled that the Princess should retain her apartments at Carlton House, with free access to her child, who had a nursery establishment of her own, under the superintendence of Lady Elgin. This lady did not live in Carlton House, but was in attendance on the child at meals, ordered everything, and was the medium of communication between her parents respecting her. The Princess Caroline, naturally fond of children, doted on the baby; the Prince cared little about her, though he jealously asserted his authority, and was always on the watch to restrain interference on the part of the mother. In the summer of 1797, a sub-governess was appointed to reside in Carlton House, and act under the orders of Lady Elgin. The office was confided to Miss Hayman, who seems by her correspondence to have been a warm-hearted, devoted person. The Princess took a great fancy to her, and drew her into an intimacy which the Prince probably disapproved, for he dismissed her at the end of three months.’8 With a few ladies the Princess subsequently retired to a small residence at Charlton, near Woolwich; but on being appointed Ranger of Greenwich Park she removed to Montague House, on Blackheath, where she had the care of her daughter, was very frequently visited by the King, and never on any occasion by her Majesty. At this period her income was settled. It was partly derived from the Prince, who contributed to her, as ‘Princess of Wales,’ 12,000l. per annum. The exchequer supplied another 5,000l.; the droits of the admiralty added occasionally a few pecuniary grants; and altogether her revenue amounted to about the same which she had previously declined to accept. With it she appeared content, lived quietly, cultivated her garden, looked after the poor, taught or superintended the teaching of several poor children, and, without a court, had a very pleasant society about her, with whom, however, she was alternately mirthful and melancholy.

If her residence at Blackheath was in many respects a sad one, it was not without its sunny side. There were joyous parties there occasionally, and the friends of the Princess, in spite of their sorrows and indignation, contrived, with their illustrious protégée, to pass a merry time of it between the lulls of the storm. The merriest hours there were those passed in playing at blind-man’s buff, where the Princess herself, that grave judge, Sir William Scott, and that equally grave senator, George Canning, were the sprightliest at the game. The company the Princess received there included some of the foremost people, for rank and for intellect, from all quarters of the world. Here is one of several entries relating to this subject, taken from William Windham’s Diary, October the 20th, 1805:—‘Dined at Princess’s: present Monsieur the Comte d’Artois (afterwards Charles X.), Duc de Berri, Prince de Condé, Duc de Bourbon, M. de Rulhière, Count de Escars, Lady Sheffield, Miss Cholmondeley, Mr. W. Lock, and Mr. J. Angerstein. When the Prince left, the Princess made a sign for us to stay, when a small supper was brought, which kept us till twelve.’ The petits soupers were hilarious and unceremonious. The Princess of Wales had not been long a resident at Montague House before her daughter, the Princess Charlotte, was removed to a mansion in the vicinity, where, under the superintendence of Lady Elgin, her early education was commenced with favourable auspices. It may, however, be questioned whether that be a proper term to apply in a case where a mother is deprived of the right to superintend the education of her own child. But it must be allowed that, though the Princess of Wales had a little taste, about the same amount of knowledge, and could stick natural flowers on ground glass so as to deceive the most minutely examining or the most courtly of Germans, she was as little capable of being governess to her own daughter as her mother had of being instructress to the Princess Caroline. The interviews between the latter and the Princess Charlotte now occurred but once a-week; and, under the circumstances, that was as frequent as interviews could be permitted. The little Princess, meanwhile, did not fare badly, nor did she lack wit, or lose opportunity of showing it. She delighted Dr. Porteus, Bishop of London, who, during a visit, had told her that when she repaired, as was intended, to Southend, for sea-bathing, she would then be in his diocese, by at once going down on her knees and asking his blessing.

Her poor mother was always as ready to make friends, but she wanted judgment to balance her tenderness. She never had such cause to repent at leisure for overhastiness of action as when she made the acquaintance of Sir John and Lady Douglas. The former was an officer lately returned from Egypt; the latter was the mother of an infant whose reported beauty inspired the Princess with a desire to see it. Without any previous intimation to Lady Douglas, with whom she was totally unacquainted, the Princess, one winter morning, the snow lying deep upon the ground, crossed the heath, ‘in a lilac-satin pelisse, primrose-coloured half-boots, and a small lilac travelling-cap, furred with sable,’ and presented herself at the gate of Lady Douglas’s house. She was invited to enter, under the supposition that she wished to rest. She did not see the infant; but there was an old Lady Stuart there, quite as childish, and of her the lady in attendance upon the Princess (during the hour the visit lasted) made some ‘fun;’ the same old lady ‘being a singular character, and talking all kind of nonsense.’

It was in all respects an evil hour when this acquaintance was first formed. It ripened, for a time, into intimacy; and when the mutual intercourse was at its highest, in 1802, the Princess, who had a strong inclination to patronise infants, and had several placed out at nurse, at her charge, in a house upon the heath, ‘took a liking’ for the infant son of a poor couple named Austin. The boy was born in Brownlow-street Lying-in Hospital, and Mrs. Austin was his mother. These two important facts were established beyond all doubt. Why the Princess should have resolved to take personal charge of so young an infant, only a few months old, defies conjecture. It may, perhaps, be accounted for by the fact that she knew she was narrowly watched by enemies who felt an interest in accomplishing her ruin, and she was elated with the idea of mystifying them by the presence of an infant at Montague House.

However this may have been, the intercourse with the Douglases continued with some degree of warmth on both sides. It was ultimately broken off by the Princess, who had been warned to be on her guard against Lady Douglas, as a dangerous and not very irreproachable character; and thereon the Princess of Wales declined to receive any more visits from her. The baronet and his lady, with Sir Sidney Smith, a very intimate friend of both parties, so incessantly besieged the Princess for some explanation of her conduct that she at length called into her council her brother-in-law, the Duke of Kent.

The Duke consented to see Sir Sidney Smith upon the subject, and from him his Royal Highness learned that Sir John was not so much aggrieved at the refusal of the Princess to receive Lady Douglas as he was at an anonymous letter accompanying a coarse drawing representing Sir Sidney and Lady Douglas, which had been forwarded to him, and of which he believed the Princess to be the author.

The Duke of Kent was a little too credulous, but he did not act unwisely. Apparently afraid that there was ground for the charge implied by Sir John, he was still more fearful of the effect the knowledge of it would have upon the King, then in a highly nervous condition, and he was more than all afraid of the evil consequences it might have, if divulged, of exasperating the existing fierce quarrel between the Prince of Wales and the King, whose visit to the Princess excited the utmost wrath in the bosom of the Prince. Taking all these circumstances into consideration, he succeeded in advising the parties to ‘let the matter drop.’ Sir John consented to do so if he were left unmolested. It must be added that Lord Cholmondeley, who was perfectly acquainted with the Princess’s handwriting, pronounced the letter as certainly not having been written by her. Of the drawing he could form no opinion, except one not at all flattering to the artist.

It was not likely that the matter would rest as the Duke of Kent desired. Sir John himself was not as quiescent as he had promised to be, and the details already mentioned came to the ears of the Duke of Sussex. The latter considered it his duty to make report thereof to the Prince of Wales, and the heir-apparent, of course, called upon Lady Douglas for a statement. His request was complied with, and a deposition was taken down from the lady’s own lips. It is a document of too great length to be inserted here, but its chief points may be stated. It professed great admiration of the Prince of Wales, and the exact reverse of his consort. It detailed the circumstances of the origin of the acquaintance between the Princess and Lady Douglas, and of the latter becoming one of the ladies-in-waiting to the former. The Princess was described as coarse in character, loose in conversation, and impure in action. Circumstances were detailed of her alleged intrigues, of her attempt to corrupt the virtue of Lady Douglas herself, of trying to seduce her into the commission of very serious sin, and of her laughing at her for not yielding to the seduction.

The lady went on to describe the common talk of the Princess as being such as to disgust the men, and to cause mothers to send away their daughters if the latter happened to be listeners. The Queen was said to be the especial object of the ridicule of the Princess, and she hinted at an improper intercourse existing between her Majesty and Mr. Addington! The whole royal family, it was further alleged, were the objects of her satire; but all the statements in the deposition fade into nothing before one respecting the Princess, in which the latter is represented as confessing to Lady Douglas that she was about to become a mother, laughing heartily at the confession itself, hinting that it would not be difficult to fix the paternity on the Prince, and ending by declaring that the matter would be settled satisfactorily by making the world believe that she had adopted an infant belonging to some other person. The deponent then says that she saw the Princess a short time previous to her alleged adoption of the child (subsequently proved to be the son of the Austins); that then her condition of health was not to be mistaken; and that some time subsequently she saw the child and Princess together, and that the latter laughingly acknowledged it to be her own. The immediately succeeding details will not bear telling; and this is the less necessary as they are excessively improbable, and were proved to be untrue. They are followed by others regarding the coolness which sprung up between the Princess and lady, with consequent squabbles, and final separation at the end of 1803. In conclusion, we hear of the return of the Douglases from Devonshire, the refusal of the Princess to receive her former lady-in-waiting, the receipt of the anonymous letters and drawings, the appeal to the Duke of Kent, the temporary suspension of hostilities, and lastly, the communication made to the Duke of Sussex, which the latter conveyed to the Prince of Wales, and which was followed by the deposition of which I have endeavoured, however imperfectly, to furnish a resumé that may be comprehended without giving offence. Those who are acquainted with the original document will allow that this is no very easy task.

Upon this statement, made in 1805, a commission was formed, under which various witnesses were examined. On the 11th of January 1806, William Cole, page to the Princess (a discarded servant), averred that he had been dismissed by the Princess of Wales, for no worse offence than looking indignant at conduct between his mistress and Sir Sidney Smith which shocked him, the page. He described various immoral proceedings as having gone on during his residence, that he had heard of worse after his departure from other servants, particularly from Fanny Lloyd, who had kindly informed him of the very improper conduct of her Royal Highness and Captain Manby of the Royal Navy, during the sojourn of the Princess at Southend, in the year 1804; and Cole added that he himself had witnessed conduct as infamous between the Princess and ‘Lawrence the painter’ as early as 1801.

Another witness, Bidgood, who, after being in the service of the Prince of Wales near a quarter of a century, was transferred to that of the Princess in 1798, went further than his predecessors. The least offensive part of his deposition was that in which he swore that he had seen Captain Manby kiss the Princess, who was in tears at his leaving. This witness spoke to alleged facts equally startling respecting her Royal Highness and Captain Hood. The depositions of the female servants were even more strong in their coarseness and weight of testimony against the Princess. All these persons, it must be remembered, were appointed to serve her, she herself having had no voice in the selection. When they became witnesses against her she was not allowed to know the nature of their evidence.

It was in consequence of their allegations having been submitted to his Majesty that the King issued his warrant in May 1806 to Lords Erskine, Grenville, Spencer, and Ellenborough, whereby they were directed to inquire into the truth or falsehood of these allegations and report accordingly.

The witnesses were all examined on oath; and it is due to Sir John Douglas to say that he seemed to wish to make of his evidence a simple account of hearsay communications from his wife. He knew nothing of what had taken place between his wife and the Princess but what the former had told him of long after the period of its occurrence. He swore, however, to having been convinced that the Princess was about to become a mother. The depositions of most of these witnesses varied considerably from those previously made by them, and fresh witnesses, called to prove the case against the Princess, did more harm than good to their own side. Others, who were servants of the Princess, distinctly denied that the allegations made against her were true. The proof that young Austin was simply an adopted child was complete. The commissioners were unanimous on this point, and therewith was established the falsehood of the depositions made by the Douglases with respect to it. The commissioners, however, did not feel so certain upon the other items of evidence; and they gave it as their opinion, not that the Princess should be held innocent until she could be proved guilty, but that the allegations should be credited until they could be satisfactorily disproved!

Never was accused woman more hardly used than the Princess in this matter. For a long time she knew nothing of the nature of the evidence tendered against her, and every obstacle was put in her way to rendering the satisfactory answer, wanting which the commissioners, though they acquitted her of high treason, thought she must be held quasi convicted of immorality. She was equal, however, to every difficulty, and she did not lack assistance. Mr. Perceval wrote, in her name, a memorial to the King, which is a masterpiece of ability, so searchingly does it sift the evidence, crush what was unfavourable to her, point out where she had a triumph, even without a witness, indignantly deny the charges laid against her, and which she had not hitherto been permitted to disprove, and touchingly appeal to her only protector, the King himself, for a continuance of his favour to one not unworthy of that for which she so ardently petitions. The memorial would almost occupy this volume entirely; it is only possible, therefore, thus to describe and refer to it. A passage or two from the conclusion will give, however, some idea of its spirit:—

‘In happier days of my life, before my spirit had been yet at all lowered by my misfortunes, I should have been disposed to have met such a charge with the contempt which, I trust by this time, your Majesty thinks due to it. I should have been disposed to have defied my enemies to the utmost, and to have scorned to answer to anything but a legal charge before a competent tribunal. But in my present misfortunes such force of mind is gone. I ought, perhaps, so far to be thankful to them for their wholesome lessons of humility. I have therefore entered into this long detail to endeavour to remove at the first possible opportunity any unfavourable impressions, to rescue myself from the dangers which the continuance of these suspicions might occasion, and to preserve to me your Majesty’s good opinion, in whose kindness, hitherto, I have found infinite consolation, and to whose justice, under all circumstances, I can confidently appeal.’

The memorial, however, would have been of very little worth but for the depositions by which it was accompanied. These were sworn to, not by discarded servants, but by men of character—men, that is, of reputation. Thus Captain Manby, on oath, replies to the allegation of Bidgood that he had seen the Captain kiss the Princess of Wales:—‘It is a vile and wicked invention, wholly and absolutely false; it is impossible that he could ever have seen any such thing, as I never upon any occasion, or in any situation, had the presumption to salute her Royal Highness in any such manner, or to take any such liberty as to offer any such insult to her person.’ To Bidgood’s allegation that the Captain’s frequent sleeping in the house was a subject of constant conversation with the servants, Captain Manby again declares upon oath that he never in his life slept in any house anywhere that had ever been occupied by her Royal Highness. ‘Never,’ he adds, ‘did anything pass between her Royal Highness and myself that I should be in any degree unwilling that all the world should have seen.’

This was conclusive; the deposition of Lawrence, the great artist, was not less crushing. In answer to a strongly-worded deposition of Cole, the page, Lawrence declares on oath that during the time he was painting the portrait of the Princess at Montague House he never was alone with her but upon one occasion, and then simply to answer a question put to him at a moment he was about to retire with the rest of the company. Like Captain Manby, he solemnly swears that nothing ever passed between her Royal Highness and himself which he would have the least objection that all the world should see and hear.

One of the female servants had accused Mr. Edmondes, the surgeon to her Royal Highness’s household, of having acknowledged circumstances touching the Princess which, if true, would have proved her to have been the very basest of women. Mr. Edmondes was said to have made this statement to a menial servant, after having bled her Royal Highness. That gentleman, however, denied on oath that he had ever made such a statement as the one in question; and perhaps the animus of the inquisitors was betrayed, on the reiterated denial of Mr. Edmondes, by a remark to him of Lord Moira. ‘Lord Moira,’ says the surgeon, ‘with his hands behind him, his head over his shoulder, his eye directed towards me, with a sort of smile, observed, “that he could not help thinking there must be something in the servant’s deposition,” as if he did not give perfect credence to what I said.’

Mr. Mills, another medical man attached to the Princess’s household, and also accused by a female servant of having intimated, in 1802, that her Royal Highness was in a fair way of becoming a mother, proved that he had not been in the house since 1801, and declared the accusation to be a most infamous falsehood. Finally, two of the menservants at Montague House swore to having seen Lady Douglas and Bidgood in communication with each other, that is, meeting and conversing together—a short time previous to the commission of inquiry being opened.

With respect to the alleged familiarities said to have taken place between the Princess and Sir Sidney Smith, the Princess herself remarks upon them, in the memorial addressed by her to the King, to the effect that ‘if his visiting frequently at Montague House, both with Sir John and Lady Douglas, and without them; at luncheon, dinner, and supper; and staying with the rest of the company till twelve or one o’clock, or even later; if these were some of the facts which must give occasion to unfavourable interpretations, they were facts which she could never contradict, for they were perfectly true.’ She further admits that Sir Sidney had paid her morning visits, and that they had frequently on such occasions been alone. ‘But,’ said the memorial, ‘if suffering a man to be so alone is evidence of guilt from whence the commissioners can draw any unfavourable inference, I must leave them to draw it, for I cannot deny that it has happened frequently, not only with Sir Sidney Smith, but with many others—gentlemen who have visited me—tradesmen who have come for orders—masters whom I have had to instruct me in painting, music, and English—that I have received them without any one being by. I never had any idea that it was wrong thus to receive men of a morning. There can have been nothing immoral in the thing itself, and I have understood that it was quite usual for ladies of rank and character to receive the visits of gentlemen in the morning, though they might be themselves alone at the time. But if this is thought improper in England, I hope every candid mind will make allowance for the different notions which my foreign education and habits may have given me.’

Nine weeks elapsed since the Princess had addressed the above memorial and depositions to the King, and still no reply reached her, except an intimation through the Lord Chancellor that his Majesty had read the documents in question, and had ordered them to be submitted to the commissioners. She complained, justly enough, at being left nine weeks without knowledge as to what judgment the commissioners had formed of the report drawn up in reply to their sentence, which acquitted her of gross guilt, yet left her under the weight of an accusation of having acted in a manner unbecoming her high station, or, indeed, unbecoming a woman in any station. From such delay, she said, the world began to infer her guilt, in total ignorance, as they were, of the real state of the facts. ‘I feel myself,’ she then said, ‘sinking in the estimation of your Majesty’s subjects, as well as what remains to me of my own family, into (a state intolerable to a mind conscious of its own purity and innocence) a state in which my honour appears at least equivocal, and my virtue is suspected. From this state I humbly entreat your Majesty to perceive that I can have no hope of being restored until either your Majesty’s favourable opinion shall be graciously notified to the world, by receiving me again into the royal presence, or until the false disclosures of the facts shall expose the malice of my accusers, and do away every possible ground for unfavourable inference and conjecture.’

The Princess then alluded to the fact that the occasion of assembling the royal family and the King’s subjects ‘in dutiful and happy commemoration of her Majesty’s birthday’ was then at hand; and she intimated that if the commissioners were prevented from presenting their final report before that time, and that consequently, at such a period, she should be without any knowledge of the King’s pleasure, the world would inevitably conclude that her answers to the charges must have proved altogether unsatisfactory, and the really infamous charges would be accounted of as too true.

Some months longer, notwithstanding this urgent appeal, was the Princess kept in suspense. There seemed a determination existing somewhere that, if her accusers could not prove her guilt, she should at least not be permitted to substantiate her innocence. At length, on the 25th of January 1807, the King having referred the entire matter, with her Royal Highness’s letters, to the cabinet ministers, the latter delivered themselves of their lengthily gestated resolution.

The ministers modestly declared themselves an incompetent tribunal to pronounce judicially a verdict of guilty or not guilty upon any person, of whatever rank. Their office was, indeed, more that of grand jurymen called upon to pronounce whether a charge is based upon such grounds, however slight, as to justify further proceedings against the person accused. They acquitted the Princess by their judgment that further proceedings were not called for, but, having been requested by the King to counsel him as to the reply he should render to his daughter-in-law, the nature of such counsel may be seen in the royal answer to the Princess’s memorial. The King exculpated her from the most infamous portion of the charge brought against her by Lady Douglas, and declared that no further legal proceedings would be taken except with a view of punishing that appalling slanderer. Of the other allegations stated in the preliminary examinations, the King declared that none of them would be considered as legally or conclusively established. But, said the King, and severely imperative as was this sovereign but, it was not uncalled for—‘In these examinations, and even in the answer drawn in the name of the Princess by her legal advisers, there have appeared circumstances of conduct on the part of the Princess which his Majesty never could regard but with serious concern. The elevated rank which the Princess holds in this country, and the relation in which she stands to his Majesty and the royal family, must always deeply involve both the interests of the state and the personal feelings of his Majesty in the propriety and correctness of her conduct. And his Majesty cannot, therefore, forbear to express, in the conclusion of the business, his desire and expectation that, in future, such a conduct may be observed by the Princess as may fully justify those marks of paternal regard and affection which the King always wishes to show to every part of the royal family.’

There is no doubt that this admonition was seriously called for. The conduct of the Princess had been that of an indiscreet, rash, and over-bold woman. At the court of the two preceding Georges such conduct would only have been called lively; but the example of Charlotte had put an end to such vivacity. The Queen Caroline of the former reign had, in her conversations with Sir Robert Walpole especially, gone far beyond the gaiety of the dialogues maintained by the Princess Caroline and Sir Sidney Smith under George III. But the Princess was as yet ‘without blemish,’ only in the degree that Queen Caroline was. She was not delicately minded, and was defiant of the Court-world when she had been cast out from it unjustly. The two Carolines were wronged in much the same degree, but the husband of the one respected the virtue of the wife whom he insulted; the husband of the other had no respect for either virtue or wife; nay, he would have been glad to prove that there had been a divorce between the two. He had failed to do so, and the King’s intimation to the Princess that ‘his Majesty was convinced that it was no longer necessary for him to decline receiving the Princess into the royal presence,’ while it was the triumphant justification of the wife, was the unqualified condemnation of the husband, beneath whose roof the slander was first uttered by Sir John Douglas to the Duke of Sussex. And so ended the ‘delicate investigation.’ A history of it was actually printed, but the copies were bought up and suppressed. A writer in ‘Notes and Queries’ (No. 128, 1852), says:—

‘Several years ago I was present when the sum of 500l. was paid for a copy of “The Delicate Investigation” by an officer high in the service of the then government.—H. B.’

The husband of Caroline was at this time suffering from a double anguish. He was snubbed by his political friends, and he was what is called deeply in love with Lady Hertford. The ‘passion’ for this lady was contracted during some negotiations with her family, entered upon for the purpose of placing Miss Seymour (a niece of Lady Hertford’s) under the care of Mrs. Fitzherbert. When this passion was in progress the Prince aimed at bringing it to a successful issue by the strangest of love-processes. He was accustomed, if not actually ill, to make himself so, in order that he might appear interesting, and have a claim upon the compassion of the ‘fair,’ who might otherwise have proved obdurate. With this end in view he would submit to be bled several times in the night, and by several operators, when in fact ‘there was so little necessity for it that different surgeons were introduced for the purpose unknown to each other, lest they should object to so unusual a loss of blood.’9 It was reported that, after the rupture with his second wife, the Prince sought to renew his intimacy with his first, but that Mrs. Fitzherbert would not consent till a brief arrived from Rome assuring her, in answer to a statement of her case expressly laid before the Court, that the wishes of the Prince were quite legitimate. This is intended to imply that the Papal Court actually looked upon a marriage ceremony performed by a Protestant minister, and uniting a Roman Catholic with a Protestant, as a valid ceremony! The assurance was enough for the lady. The old intimacy was renewed, and inaugurated by a public breakfast, at her own house, to all the fashionable world, with the Prince at the head of it! The ‘next eight years’ of her connections with the Prince she described as supremely happy years. They were extremely poor, she said, but ‘as merry as crickets,’ and ‘joyously proud, on once returning to Brighton from London, that they could not raise 5l. between them.’ So runs this Idyll.

If he was ridiculous in this, he was criminal in other respects. The pretty child, Miss Seymour, was placed with Mrs. Fitzherbert, and the Prince became greatly attached to her. The guardians of the young lady, rightly or wrongly, thought that a person in the position which Mrs. Fitzherbert occupied was not exactly a fitting guide for a motherless girl. The law was had recourse to in order to obtain the removal of the latter, and ultimately the matter was brought before the supreme tribunal of the peers. It is a well-known fact that when this was the case the Prince, in whose heart there had been lit up a flame of genuine affection warmer than anything he had ever felt for his own daughter, became alarmed at the idea of losing Miss Seymour. He therefore actually stooped to canvass for the votes of peers in this, a purely judicial question, which they were called upon to decide according to law and their consciences. An heir-apparent to a throne, and so engaged, presented no edifying spectacle. And it must be remembered that at the time he was thus suborning witnesses (for to canvass the vote of a judicial peer was subornation of those whose office it was to enforce the due administration of the law) he had set his small affections upon a child, and was living in open disregard of the seventh commandment, and of that portion of the tenth which relates to our neighbour’s wife. He was accusing, through suborned testimony, his own wife of crimes and sentiments of a similar nature, and with no better result than to make patent his own infamy, and to establish nothing worse than thoughtless indiscretion on the part of the consort whom he had abandoned.

The Princess, who was still suffering from debility consequent upon an attack of measles, was naturally elated at the result of the protracted inquiry, and respectfully requested to be permitted to ‘throw herself at his Majesty’s feet on the following Monday.’ The monarch reminded her of her debility, bade her take patience, and promised to name a day for receiving her, when he was assured of her being fully restored to health. She waited patiently for the expression of the King’s pleasure upon the matter, and was preparing once more for the enjoyment of again being received by him, when all her hopes were suddenly annihilated by an intimation from the King that—the Prince of Wales having stated that he was not satisfied with the result of the late inquiry—the Prince had placed the matter in the hands of his legal advisers, and had requested his Majesty to refrain from taking further steps in the business for the present; the King consequently ‘considered it incumbent on him to defer naming a day to the Princess of Wales until the further result of the Prince’s intention shall have been made known to him.’ This note was dated ‘Windsor Castle, the 10th of February, 1807.’ From that day the Princess looked upon her husband as assuming the office of public accuser against her. The Blackheath plot had failed, and the Prince was now appealing against the decision of judges to whose arbitrament he had committed the responsible duty of examination and sentence. What he required was a judgment unfavourable to his wife; not having succeeded, he sought for another tribunal, and virtually requested the monarch and the nation to hold his consort guilty until he might have the luck or leisure to prove her to be so. Had she been twice the imprudent woman she was, such conduct as this on the part of the Prince was sure to make a popular favourite of the Princess.

The courage of the latter rose, however, as persecution waxed hotter; and the advisers who now stood by her, of whom Mr. Perceval was the chief, were doubly stimulated by political as well as personal feelings. The Princess continued to address vigorous appeals to the King, whose intellect was beginning to be too weak to comprehend, and his eyesight too feeble for him to be able to read them. Their cry was still for justice; they claimed for her a public reception at court, and apartments in some one of the royal palaces, as more befitting her condition. Intimation, too, was made that if the justice demanded were not awarded her, a full detail of the whole affair, taken from the view held of it by the advisers of the Princess, would be forthwith published. It is said that the menace touched even Queen Charlotte herself, who had a dread of ‘The Book,’ as it was emphatically called, upon which Mr. Perceval was known to be busily engaged, and which it was feared he was about to publish. But the temporary triumph of the Princess was at hand. In March 1807 the Grenville administration, the members of which were known to be favourites with the Queen and enemies of the Princess of Wales, retired from office, and within a month the new ministry advised the King that the complete innocence of the Princess had been established, and that it would be well for him to receive her at court in a manner suitable to her rank and station. The ministers present at the meeting of council when this advice was rendered were Lord Chancellor Eldon, Lord President Camden, Lord Privy Seal Westmoreland, the Duke of Portland, the Earl of Chatham, the Earl of Bathurst, Viscount Castlereagh, Lord Mulgrave, Mr. Canning, and Lord Hawkesbury.

In May 1807 the Princess was accordingly received at court, at a drawing-room held by Queen Charlotte. The latter illustrious lady exhibited no demeanour by which it could be construed that she was happy to see her daughter-in-law. The utmost honour paid her was a cold and rigid courtesy. The Queen was again ‘civil, but stiff.’ The nobility and gentry present were more expansive in the warmth of their welcome. From them the Princess received a homage of apparently cordial respect. Sir Jonah Barrington, in his ‘Personal Sketches of his own Times,’ gives a rather different description of the scene, at which he was present. From this account we collect that the Princess, leaning on the arm of the Duke of Cumberland, appeared in deep mourning—for her father. She ‘tottered’ up to the Queen, as if fearing a repulsive welcome. The reception of her was ‘kind’ on the Queen’s part, ‘and a paroxysm of spirits seemed to succeed, and mark a strange contrast to the manner of her entry. I thought it was too sudden and too decisive. She spoke much and loud, and rather bold. Her circle was crowded, the presentations numerous, but on the whole she lost ground in my estimation.’

On the occasion of the King’s birthday on the following month the Princess again repaired to court. The welcome resembled that which she had received at her last visit, but there was an incident at this which rendered it more interesting, at all events to lookers-on. It was at this drawing-room that the Prince and Princess of Wales encountered each other for the last time. They met in the very centre of the apartment—they bowed, stood face to face for a moment, exchanged a few words which no one heard, and then passed on; he, stately as an iceberg, and as cold—she, with a smile, half mirthful, half melancholy, as though she rejoiced that she was there in spite of him, and yet regretted that her visit was not under happier auspices. The triumph, however, was complete as far as it went, for she assuredly was present that day contrary to the inclination of both her husband and her mother-in-law.

There was one being upon earth whom this Princess unreservedly loved, and of whom she was deprived this year—her father, the Duke of Brunswick. He had been but an indifferent husband and father, but his wife did not complain, and his daughter Caroline feared and adored him.

The father of the Princess of Wales, at the age of seventy-one, perished on the fatal field of Jena, on that day on which Prussia was made to pay the penalty of mingled treachery and imbecility. It had been her policy, throughout the troubles of the time, to save herself at any other nation’s cost. Such a policy caused her to fall into the ruin which overcame her at Jena, without securing the sympathy even of those nations which then fought against the then common enemy. In this battle the father of Caroline had done his utmost to win victory for Prussia, but in vain, and he lost his own life in the attempt. His ability and courage were all cast away. He had with him in the camp a very unseemly companion, in the person of a French actress, who was the friend of his aide-de-camp, Montjoy. This officer was close to him when, in the midst of his staff, and at a distance altogether from where the battle was raging, the old Duke was shot by a man on foot, ‘who presented his carabine so close that the ball went in under the left eye (the Duke was on horseback) and came out above the right, quite through the upper part of the nose.’ It is Lord Malmesbury who suggests, without pretending to assert, that ‘Montjoy’s brother, the Grand Veneur to Prince Max, the pretended King of Bavaria, and who was with Bonaparte, knew exactly where the Duke of Brunswick was to be found, and by a connivance with Montjoy produced the event.’

After the death of the Duke, the Duchess became a fugitive, for the Duchy of Brunswick was in the possession of the French. And accordingly the poor Augusta, at whose birth in St. James’s Palace there had been such scant ceremony and excess of commotion, came now in her old age, and after an absence of forty years, to ask a home at the hearth of the brother who loved her, as she used to say equivocally, as warmly as he could love anything, and of the sister-in-law who, as the poor Duchess knew, regarded her with some dislike, and who was met with the same amount and quality of affection on the part of Augusta of Brunswick.

She had, however, little cause to complain, as far as these relatives were concerned. They received her cordially; and, though they gave her no home in the palace in which she was born, they helped her to an humbler home elsewhere, and occasionally lent it cheerfulness by paying her a visit. In the meantime the widowed mother sat at the hearth of her deserted daughter, and though neither of them had sufficient depth of sentiment to bring her affliction touchingly home to the other, each was sufficiently stricken by severity of real sorrow to render her eloquent upon her own misery, if not attentive to the twice-told tale of her companion.

Meanwhile, there was pressure of another sort upon the Princess—a pressure of debt, incurred principally by the uncertainty with which she had hitherto been supplied with pecuniary means, and also the want of a controlling treasurer to give warning when expenditure was exceeding probable income. Prudent people find such an officer in themselves; but then the Princess was not a prudent person, and among the things she least understood was the management or the worth of money. She was, however, in 1809, in so embarrassed a situation as to render an application to the King’s ministers necessary, when it was found that her debts exceeded 50,000l. A final arrangement was then come to. The Prince and Princess signed a deed of separation. The former consented to pay the debts to the amount of 49,000l. on condition of being held non-responsible for any future liabilities incurred by his consort. Her fixed income was settled at 22,000l. per annum, under the control of a treasurer, who was to discharge the remaining liabilities out of the present year’s income, and to guard against any other occurring in years to come, if he could.

As wide a separation as possible was made between mother and child. They were happy Saturday afternoons that the Princess Charlotte was allowed to spend at Blackheath, where she met the Hon. Miss Wellesley (afterwards Countess of Westmoreland) and other children, and partook of childish delights. Under her grandmother the Queen, at Windsor, she was stiffly disciplined. Once expressing a wish to be allowed to go and say ‘good-bye’ to a young friend who was about to leave England, Queen Charlotte remarked ‘it was contrary to princely dignity to seek after any one.’ Some young girls who had been allowed to come to Windsor, and were the companions of the Princess for an occasional day, were not allowed to grow into familiarity or intimacy. The old Queen’s sour notice of them to her grand-daughter was: ‘I cannot taste these young ladies!’ In this cruel way were all the warm sympathies of a warm-hearted child set at naught.

The relations into which the Prince entered with Lady Hertford, while the question of the guardianship of Miss Seymour was pending, led to the ascendency of that lady, and brought to a final close the intimacy which had existed between the Prince and Mrs. Fitzherbert. At a dinner given to Louis XVIII., to which she was invited, the Prince replied to her inquiry as to where she was to sit, ‘You know, Madam, you have no place.’ ‘None, sir,’ she rejoined, ‘but what you are pleased to give me.’ He assigned none, and she kept away. The last morning she ever saw the Prince was at a soirée at Devonshire House. The Duchess was conducting her to the Duke’s apartments, where he was confined with the gout, but where he received a few old friends. As the two ladies passed through one of the rooms, Mrs. Fitzherbert saw the Prince and Lady Hertford in a tête-à-tête conversation, and nearly fainted under all the impressions which then rushed upon her mind, but, taking a glass of water, she recovered and passed on.10