by Cheyenne
letter and went to her desk to write an answer.
When the messenger had left with it she said to Mrs. Fitzgerald: ‘They are
telling me that they will want the servants to appear for questioning and I have
answered that they may question all they like.’
‘For questioning?’ cried Mrs. Fitzgerald aghast.
‘Why? What’s worrying you? Why shouldn’t they question them if they want
to?’
‘If they tell the truth all should be well,’ said Mrs. Fitzgerald, but she was
thinking of the many indiscretions— the light, frivolous flirtatious manner and
conversation of the Princess. She was thinking of young Willikin upstairs in his
bed.
Couldn’t she see how easy it was going to be to make a case against her?
————————
But it was not so easy. It was true that some of the servants gave the answers
which they knew the Prince of Wales would want. Several of these servants were
no longer with the Princess of Wales; some had been dismissed and had a
grievance; others had been sent to serve her for the sole purpose of spying.
Oh yes, said these. They had seen the Princess behave very familiarly with men who came to the house. They had seen her kiss Sir Sydney Smith, embrace
Captain Manley and speak very affectionately to Mr. Canning; she had told them
not to disturb her when she was alone with Sir Thomas Lawrence. Oh, yes, they
all thought this was very strange behaviour for a Princess of Wales.
But there were other servants— good and loyal. The Princess was by nature
friendly. She was warm and affectionate to everyone— even the humblest of her
servants. She called them ‘my dear’, ‘my love’, ‘my angel’ even. It was a habit of hers.
Had she been very familiar with men who called at the house?
No more than with women. She was impulsively friendly with all.
But right at the heart of the matter was Willikin. Who was this boy? Was it
possible that he was the Princess’s son? This was the charge against her and if it could be proved that she was the mother of that boy then it would be possible for the Prince to divorce her, for not only would she have been proved flagrantly
unfaithful, but guilty of treason to the State, for that boy could claim the throne; and this was where the matter was so serious.
The Princess had declared— and some of her servants corroborated this—
that William Austin was the son of Samuel and Sophia Austin; they were near
neighbours of hers and the man worked in the dockyards.
There was only one thing to be done: Call the woman whom the Princess
alleged was the mother of the boy.
Sophia came— clean, respectable, a witness whom they had to admit they
could trust.
Yes, she had had conversations with the Princess of Wales.
‘And was she the mother of the boy who lived with the Princess of Wales?’
‘If you be talking of young Willie,’ was the direct answer, ‘I am his mother.’
‘And your son now lives at Montague House with the Princess of Wales?’
‘Tis true that I sometimes have to pinch myself to believe it. But she’s an
angel, that Princess. And my, don’t she love the little ones! When I was carrying Willie she came to me and I complained of having another mouth to feed. Give
him to me, she said . I’ll adopt him. There! It was as easy as that.’
‘Do you swear that you are the mother of William Austin?’
‘I swear it, and if you don’t believe me you go along to Brownlow Street
Hospital, for that was where Willie was born.’
There was no refuting evidence of that sort. The Council had reluctantly to
admit that there was no truth in the allegation that the Princess of Wales had
borne an illegitimate son.
They did not forget, however, that they must please the Prince. They added
that, although there was no evidence to support the theory that the child, William Austin, was the Princess’s and although it seemed certain that he was not, that did not mean that the Princess was not guilty of behaving in most unbecoming
manner; and in the Council’s opinion the morals of the Princess of Wales left
much to be desired.
————————
So her enemies were defeated. They had been proven by the Prince’s friends
— to be lying.
She had forgotten that she was only exonerated from the charge of producing
an illegitimate child; it was by no means proved that the life she lead was not one of immorality.
She was made aware of this when she wrote to the King with her usual
exuberance and received a very restrained letter in reply in which His Majesty
stated that he could not help but be gravely concerned by her conduct.
‘By my conduct!’ she cried to the faithful Mrs. Fitzgerald. ‘But I have been
proved to have been slandered! Oh, my dear, dear Fitz! Was ever such a poor
devil in the plight I’m in? I’m a princess and no princess. I’m a married woman
with no husband— for the Prince of Wales is worse than none. This is not the
end, Fitz. They’ve determined to make my life a hell— all of them. Can’t you
imagine the old Begum tittering away, surrounded by her virgin daughters! Let
them! What do I care! But I do care about the old man, Fitz. I think I loved him in a way. He tried to be so good always. And now look at this. He’s gravely
concerned— by my immorality and he isn’t going to see me. I’m going to be shut
away here and forgotten. But I’ll tell you something, my dear, I won’t have it. I won’t. I won’t.’
Mrs. Fitzgerald looked alarmed, but Caroline burst out laughing.
‘Don’t be frightened, my dear, I’m not going mad. Though I declare there’s
enough to make me. That’s for my poor old father-in-law. God bless him. But I’m
not having him turned against me! I’m going to see him. And I’ll keep on at him
until I do. I shall write to him again and again—’
‘Your Highness, why not ask the advice of Spencer Perceval? He will know
what’s to be done.’
The Princess was thoughtful for a moment. Then she cried: ‘You’re right.
That dear man will know— and at least he is my friend.’
————————
The King was decidedly worried. On all sides he heard stories of Caroline’s
misconduct. The Queen believed in it and constantly referred to it. Oh, they had
not proved that she had had this child but it was quite obvious that she led a very wild life. All those men calling on her at odd times of the day and night! Most
peculiar! And what a way for a Princess of Wales to live! What a sad day for the
Prince of Wales, for the family and for England when George had taken the
King’s niece from Brunswick instead of the Queen’s from Mecklenburg-Strelitz!
A sad day, a sad day indeed, thought the King. But she was a pleasant woman,
quite handsome in her way too. Why could not the Prince of Wales give up his
wild life and settle down as an heir to the throne should do?
He was sorry for Caroline, but how could he see her in the circumstances? It
would be as though he gave his approval to immorality.
And he had felt life was going to be better. Nelson’s victory at Trafalgar had
put new heart into the nation and in him. Yet even that victory had its sadness, for Nelson had fallen and the country had lost its saviour in the moment of victory.
He thought o
f the great hall of Greenwich hospital into which the public had
crowded to see the coffin of the naval hero and of the funeral that followed and at which he had been represented by the Prince of Wales and his brothers. A sad
occasion to follow victory. But Lord Nelson would have rejoiced because he had
crippled the might of Napoleon and made England safe.
But there was constant trouble. No sooner was the threat of invasion removed
than the family was at war within itself.
The Prince of Wales hated his wife and this was an even sadder pattern than
that set by the family when father and son were fighting together. At least he had been faithful to his Queen; George II had been notoriously uxorious in spite of
constant infidelity. George I— ah, there had been a sad case of husband and wife
who had been enemies—
But what was the use of thinking of the past? He dared not think too much.
His head went into a painful whirl when he did so. He tried to catch at his
thoughts and found them eluding him. He grew alarmed when that happened.
I must not think of it, he told himself. And I must not receive her.
————————
On her request Spencer Perceval called to see Caroline and listened to her
account of the King’s refusal to receive her.
‘This must not be allowed to continue,’ he told her, ‘or it will be said that you were guilty. His Majesty is treating you though you are. This must be stopped at
all cost or the verdict of the people will be against you. This is unthinkable,
for try as they did the Council could prove no case against you. The King must
receive you. You should write again and request him to do so.’
This she did and it brought a reply from the King. He would see her; but
before the meeting could be arranged she received a letter from Windsor in which
the King said that he must postpone receiving her because he had heard from the
Prince of Wales that he intended consulting his lawyer with regard to the
Council’s findings. Until he heard the result of this His Majesty must put off the meeting.
When Caroline received this letter she was furious. She wrote indignantly to
the King. It was with great pain that she had read his letter, she said. It was seven months since she had seen the King and now that nothing had been proved against
her there was no longer any reason why he should refuse to see her. She signed
herself : ‘His dutiful and affection ate but much injured subject and daughter-in-law’.
She declared that she would be received at Court. She was not going to be
thrust aside in this way. How dare the Prince of Wales, whose own life was so
scandalous, treat her in this way?
Perceval came to see her. He heard of the latest developments and said they
must delay no longer. It was necessary to deliver an ultimatum. The only thing
she could do was threaten to publish the findings of the Council which would
enable the public to know how she had been slandered and proved innocent. They
were already on her side because of their dislike of the Prince of Wales and would be ready to believe her; and neither the Prince of Wales nor the King dared stand out against public opinion.
He dictated a letter which she was to send to the King.
‘As to any consequences which may arise from such publication, unpleasant or hurtful to my own feelings and interests, I may perhaps be properly responsible— but whatever these consequences may be, I am fully convinced that they must be incalculably less than those to which I am exposed by my silence—’
As there was no reply to this letter, Perceval arranged for five thousand copies
to be printed of what was known as The Book; this contained a full report of the proceedings against the Princess of Wales at the Delicate Investigation.
Then, due to a dispute concerning Catholic reform, the Government fell, and
the Whig friends of the Prince of Wales were replaced by the Tories. Lord
Portland was Prime Minister and Spencer Perceval was given the post of
Chancellor of the Exchequer. The leading ministers were now the enemies of the
Prince of Wales which meant that they would give support to Caroline. Perceval
lost no time in doing all he could to reinstate her. Very soon after the new
Ministry had been formed, he prevailed upon Portland and other Ministers,
including George Canning, to put their names to an ultimatum which was
addressed to the King.
‘Your Majesty’s confidential servants humbly submit to Your Majesty that it is essentially necessary, injustice to Her Royal Highness and for the honour and interests of Your Majesty’s illustrious family, that Her Royal Highness the Princess of Wales should be admitted with as little delay as possible into Your Majesty’s royal presence, and that she should be received in a manner due to her rank and station in Your Majesty’s Court and family.’
Another letter followed this in which it was suggested that a suitable residence
be found for the Princess of Wales which would be nearer to the royal palaces and enable her to be within easy access of the Court.
This was something the King could not ignore. He knew if he did so, The
Book would immediately be published and the people would rise up against the Prince of Wales— and perhaps the King— for treating the Princess so cruelly.
‘She must be invited to Court without delay,’ he told the Queen, who was
wise enough to recognize an ultimatum.
‘It is something we shall be forced to endure,’ she agreed.
‘And where can she be lodged?’
‘As far from Carlton House as possible, I suggest. Perhaps Kensington
Palace.’
So Kensington Palace it was; but although Caroline took apartments there she
kept on Montague House and declared to Mrs Fitzgerald that she was only going
to Court to let people know that she was innocent of the charges brought against
her, for to stay away might give an appearance of guilt. What she enjoyed most
would be her stays in Montague when she could devote herself to Willikin and
entertaining her friends there in her own way without the ceremony which could
not be avoided in palaces.
The King greeted her with affection and tears in his eyes. ‘My dear, how glad
I am to see you! It has been a bad time— eh, what, a bad time?’
‘A very bad time, dear Uncle. But I hope it is over now and your feelings
towards me have not changed.’
With tears in his eyes he assured her this was not so.
The Queen regarded her coldly and gave her only the barest
acknowledgement while her eyes rested on the extravagant dress of too many
colours, cut far too low. Caroline wanted to laugh at her; but she reminded herself that she must be on her best behaviour.
The Princesses of course followed their mother and treated her with an almost
cool insolence.
And then the Prince of Wales. She looked at him almost hopefully. He was
splendid, not so glittering as in the past being under the influence of Beau
Brummell who had taught him his own special brand of unobtrusive elegance.
She dropped a curtsey.
His bow was notorious. There was no one who could perform the act with
such grace. There was a breathless moment when he enacted this feat for now it
was especially interesting.
It was over very quickly— that most elegant bow— and then she was looking
at the Prince’s back. He had turned and was speaking to one of his sisters.
So— she was to be received back at Court though ignored by the Prince of
Wales and the Delicate Investigation was over— but not forgotten.
Royal Scandals
Just before Caroline had gone to Court she had had sad news from Brunswick.
Her father, the Duke, had been killed while leading the Prussian army against
Napoleon.
This event had momentarily made her forget her own dismal affairs. She was
very melancholy. She thought of her father and all he had meant to her in the past.
He had been perhaps the only person she had really loved during her Brunswick
childhood. It was true that it was long since she had said goodbye to him but she had never forgotten him.
Incidents from the old days kept coming back to her; the occasion when she
had pretended she was in labour, Charlotte’s wedding; the day he had told her that she need never marry if she did not wish. If only she had taken his advice, but
would she have enjoyed life any more in Brunswick, at the mercy of her rather
silly mother and sensible Madame de Hertzfeldt? And then she would never have
had Charlotte.
‘Charlotte, my darling, my angel, who I am only allowed to see once a week!’
she cried.
And she decided then that it would have been one degree worse to have stayed
in Brunswick than to have come to England in spite of being married to a husband
who was no husband and determined to harm her.
Mrs. Fitzgerald came in to tell her that Willikin was crying for his Mamma
and demanding to know why she wasn’t there to amuse him.
‘Bring him in. Bring him in,’ she cried.
And there was the naughty little boy to be petted and, kissed and cuddled and
told that his mamma loved him and that he was her pet boy, her little Willikin.
Mrs. Fitzgerald told Mrs.Vernon that the change in the Princess’s moods was
sometimes alarming. Rarely had she known one whose moods changed so rapidly.
She would be in the depth of despair one moment and the next shouting with joy.
‘That’s Willikin’s doing,’ said Mrs. Vernon.
‘She’s making him into a horrible spoilt brat,’ added Mrs. Fitzgerald.
————————
The Prince was uneasy. He had enjoyed several years of conjugal bliss with
his dear love Maria, and was looking for adventure.