‘These Italians,’ cried the Princess later to Lady Charlotte Lindsay, ‘they certainly know how to treat a woman.’
‘I daresay His Royal Highness the Prince Regent has already heard that the Baron Pergami has joined your household.’
‘I hope he has. I see no reason to make a secret of it.’ Lady Charlotte sighed.
She never saw reasons— or if she did, she did not care.
And after that conversation she was even more friendly to the handsome Baron.
On her journey from Milan to Naples Caroline startled the people as she passed along. She had ordered a carriage in the shape of a shell and in this she lay over-dressed, over-painted, with enormous feathers rising from her hat and falling about her shoulders; her gowns were always low-cut and she liked to sit, most inelegantly, with her short fat legs exposed to the knees. Willikin often sprawled beside her, his eyes round with wonder at the sights he saw; and she had grooms dressed in pink tights decorated with spangles. Everywhere she went she left behind a trail of gossip.
Once, staying at a humble inn, she heard that there was to be a village dance and insisted on going and dancing with the most handsome of the young men. The people laughed and applauded but afterwards they thought this was strange behaviour for a Princess of Wales.
On one occasion the seats of the carriage in which she was travelling were too high to enable her short legs to reach the floor; so she put them on to the lap of a lady-in-waiting who happened to be sitting opposite and rode along thus to the amazement of all who beheld her and the complete embarrassrnent of the lady.
The Princess had always been wild, but since she had left England a madness seemed to have possessed her.
In due course they came to Naples.
The King of Naples gave her an enthusiastic welcome. He received her ceremoniously and told her he hoped she would stay in Naples as long as she cared to. Very soon she had set up house and prepared to enjoy the hospitality which was extended to her on all sides.
It was in Naples that she received the first tangible warning. General Matthews, a member of her suite, when strolling through the streets of Naples in the company of an Italian Count, met an Englishman whom he knew. He naturally wondered what this gentleman was doing in Naples and greeted him.
‘I know you,’ he said. ‘Your name is Quentin, is it not?’
‘That is so.’
‘And you have a brother who is a Colonel in the Hussars and I believe your serve the Prince Regent in some capacity.’
‘I have a post in His Royal Highness’s household.’
‘And are you here on his business in Naples?’
‘Er— yes. I have been sent by His Highness to look at some horses which he proposes buying.’
When they passed on the Count said: ‘I’ll swear he has not come to Naples to look at horses. It’s scarcely the place to do that.’
‘It seems very strange, I admit,’ said the General. ‘But why should he lie?’
‘Because his business is such that he does not wish to speak of it. And it is the affair of your Prince Regent.’
‘H’m,’ said the General. ‘A spy.’
‘You can be sure of that. I will tell you what I will do. I will tell the King what has happened and he will get to the root of the matter. In a few days time he will know whether this Quentin has in fact been looking at horses or not. And if not, I think the Princess of Wales should be warned. Do you not agree?’
The General replied that he agreed wholeheartedly.
A few days later the Count came to see the General.
‘Mr. Quentin has not been looking at horses. In fact what he has been doing is asking a great many questions about the Princess of Wales— and talking to members of her household.’
‘I shall go to Her Highness immediately and report on this.’
‘There is no need. The King has taken a great liking to her. And he is annoyed that the Prince Regent should send spies into Naples without his knowledge. He will deal with this.’
The King kissed Caroline’s hand; she gave him her large warm smile.
He said: ‘My dear lady, I have asked you to come to see me because I have something very serious to tell you. I trust you will forgive what may seem like impertinence on my part but I am concerned for you.’
‘Your dear good Majesty! I shall never forget how much at home you have made me feel in your kingdom.’
But I will not have you persecuted while you are here.’
‘Persecuted! Nothing could be farther from the truth. I have been fêted, honoured—’
‘And spied on, my dear lady. Now this is what I have to tell you. A Mr.
Quentin has been sent here by the Prince Regent to report on your actions. I thought you should be warned.’
‘Ha!’ laughed Caroline. I trust he carries back a good tale.’
‘I shall not allow him to remain if you do not wish him to. He shall be escorted to the frontiers and told not to enter Naples again.’
‘Oh, don’t do that. Poor fellow, he would be so put out and doubtless be in trouble with his master.’
‘My dear Princess, do you realize that this fellow is spying on you, that he will carry reports back to England— very likely false ones of your conduct here?’
‘Oh, let him!’
The King was astonished.
‘I wish you to know that if any spies come here and you want them to be banished, it shall be done.’
‘Let them stay. Let them take back their tales. Your Majesty is good to consider me so. But I shall not worry about these spies. So, dear Majesty, do not concern yourself with them.’
The King lifted his shoulders. It was for her to say, he reminded her.
‘The dear King,’ Caroline told Willikin, ‘he is so concerned for me. What a comfort after the way I have been treated in England. I should like to stay in Naples for the rest of my life!’
‘You’d be too restless, Mamma. You will be off on your travels again soon.’
Caroline laughed. ‘You are right, my dear Willikin.’
It was true that she did not stay much longer in Naples; and the reason was a dramatic one.
Napoleon had escaped from Elba and Caroline deemed it wise to leave without delay and in twenty-four hours was on board the Clorinde sailing for Genoa.
Genoa, into which she had a triumphant entry, all spangles and feathers, was excited to receive her and the people came out into the streets to look at the strange English Princess.
Pergami had arranged everything with his usual efficiency. ‘What should we do without the dear man?’ she demanded of Willikin who agreed with her that Pergami looked after them very well. Caroline was becoming more and more used to familiar with her attractive major-domo and treat such a gentleman, such a treasure, as a servant.
Often he sat down to a meal with her alone. ‘Just the two of us,’ she would say. And this delighted her, because he was so amusing and, as she confided to her servants, she enjoyed a tête-à-tête meal with Peragami more than a State banquet where there was too much noise and chatter and people had to shout until they wert hoarse to make themselves heard.
Lady Charlotte Campbell arrived in Genoa with six of her children, which was a great delight.
How were the little darlings? And how did they like travelling? And were they pleased to see the Princess again?
They were and so was their mother though a little shocked at the Princess’s manners which had grown even more free and easy since she left England.
And who, Lady Charlotte asked some of the members of the staff, was this man Bergami or Pergami whatever he called himself?
There was a little giggling and little shrugging of shoulders.
‘A great favourite with the Princess, Lady Charlotte. He is in constant attention. He’s the chamberlain but he’s more like her faithful companion.’
Lady Charlotte groaned. What indiscretions! There was talk of her eldest daughter’s having a post in the Princess’s hous
ehold. Lady Charlotte was not sure that she wished for this.
Caroline, however, was unaware of the gossip. She was delighted to have Lady Charlotte with her and she would arrange for a house in the town for the children and their governess. As for Lady Charlotte, she would take up her old duties.
Then came sad news. At the battle of Quatre Bras‚ Caroline’s brother, the young Duke of Brunswick, had been killed.
Caroline shut herself up in her apartments and wept for her brother.
But very soon there was shouting in the streets and everyone was rejoicing.
Wellington and Blucher had met Napoleon at Waterloo and annihilated the French Army.
Peace at last— and this time a lasting peace because Napoleon could never rise again.
‘Now,’ said Caroline, ‘I can continue my journeyings in peace.’
There was startling news however from England. Samuel Whitbread who had been her fervent supporter had died by his own hand.
Caroline could not believe this to be true. He had always been such a vital man, a firm upholder of righteous causes. He had believed, it was said, that his public career was at an end, and this had depressed him. It seemed so pointless; he was rich, having retained a big share in the brewery; he was not old, being in the neighbourhood of fifty, and yet he had shut himself into his bedroom in his town house at thirty-five Dover Street and cut his throat.
Remembering the violent death of Spencer Perceval, Caroline said: ‘I seem to bring had luck to those who help me.’
Why was it that people did not wish to stay with her? Captain Hesse, her equerry, who was said to be the illegitimate son of the Duke of York, had come to her when the news of Napoleon’s escape was known and told her that he must rejoin his regiment. She fancied this was a good excuse. Gell and Craven had come to her as she was about to embark at Naples and told her that they must leave her unless she returned to England.
She had told them that she had no intention of doing that and laughed at them because they believed that rather than lose them she would do so.
But when she was alone she was depressed. Was no one faithful? Few, it seemed; but one who was, was her dear Bartolomeo Pergami. What would she have done without him?
The travels continued to Mantua and Ferraar, Bologna, Venice and Rome.
At each of the places Caroline passed through she behaved with a growing abandon. She dressed extravagantly and was heavily rouged and daubed with white lead; she rode through the streets in her fantastic feathered hats, the abundant curls of her many wigs flowing freely, she was a startling figure. But her conduct was more strange than her appearance. She was over-familiar; she walked the streets ostensibly incognito— picked up children, squatted on the pavements beside them, embraced them and gave them money; she cooked a meal now and then which she sat down and enjoyed with Pergami; she allowed him to come in and out of her bedroom at will, received him when she was in her bath, and took a great pleasure in shocking those about her in every way she could conceive.
Stories of her incredible behaviour were carried to England and the Prince Regent listened to them avidly.
If only it were possible to rid himself of this woman how happy he would be!
Every tale he heard of her was a humiliation.
That most glorious of victories, Waterloo, was being celebrated. They realized at home what this meant. The name of Waterloo would resound through the world for centuries to come; and it was his great general who had achieved it. It was Wellington’s victory. The church bells rang out; the guns boomed forth. It was a victory to set beside Trafalgar and Agincourt.
It was a glorious time; and yet he, the Regent, was pestered by his family.
There was intransigent Charlotte who caused him much anxiety by her refusal to obey him; but he could manage Charlotte; and at least she was pleasant to look at.
But Caroline! That loathsome creature to whom they had married him. The First Gentleman of Europe, the most elegant and fastidious of gentlemen to be married to that vulgar creature!
But for her, he could marry again and get a son. Ha, that would put Charlotte’s nose out of joint. The arrogant young woman never forgot that Crown she saw in her future. She was already seeing herself mounting the throne, which was unfeeling of her, for how could she until he was dead?
If he could rid himself of Caroline— Good God, should it be so difficult? The Delicate Investigation had been a near thing. He might have managed it then. But now she was roaming about the Continent, causing scandal wherever she went.
There was fresh news brought to him by his spies. One of the members of her suite had left her because Caroline was planning a trip to the East and this young man, William Burrell, who was a son of Lord Gwydir, had arrived at Brussels.
There he met the Duke of Cumberland; but the important factor was that Burrell’s servants had chattered to those of the Duke who had reported to their master.
Cumberland had lost no time when he returned in telling the Prince Regent that he wanted to know.
Something must be done. The manner in which Caroline was behaving with this Italian chamberlain of hers and the way she conducted herself generally must surely supply the evidence he needed. His spies were not working hard enough.
There was Quentin, for instance, who had allowed himself to be discovered and this incident had naturally warned the guilty ones. Many people had left her suite; men like Hesse, Gell and Craven. Why? Were they afraid of being implicated?
The Prince sent for Lord Castlereagh and told him that he expected action.
‘What do you propose?’ he demanded. ‘These people who are supposed to be working for us give us nothing but gossip. I want proof.’
‘I think, sir,’ said Castlereagh, ‘that we should appoint a man of some standing to work for us. What we need is absolute proof and someone who actually witnesses misconduct. For that we will need someone who is skilled and able to win the Princess’s confidence. I suggest that I get in touch secretly with our ambassador in Vienna. If Your Highness will give me leave to write to him— strictly confidentially, I think he will know the man whom we should appoint to act as our agent.’
‘Let it be done with all speed,’ said the Prince Regent.
Lord Castlereagh wrote to Lord Stewart and headed his letter Most private and secret. He must appoint a man whom he thought fit to do this service and this agent must be able to give eye-witness proof. English witnesses would be preferred but it would be better not to involve anyone in the Regent’s service. The aim was to enable the Prince Regent to be free of a woman who had no decency and was quite unworthy to be his wife. It would be understood that as the object of the evidence would be to justify a divorce, the proofs must be direct and unequivocal.
When Lord Stewart received this communication he studied it very carefully and cast about in his mind for the person who would be able to perform this very delicate duty.
At last he decided on the Baron Frederick d’Ompteda, the Hanoverian envoy to the Pontifical Court.
He wrote to him commanding his presence immediately and when the Baron arrived, acquainted him with what was expected of him.
‘You understand,’ said Lord Stewart. ‘We must have evidence and witnesses of the misconduct of the Princess of Wales. It should not be difficult to obtain in view of the reports we are receiving.’
The Baron replied that he would do his best.
‘It is what the Prince Regent expects,’ replied Lord Stewart.
The Baron took his leave and set out for Rome.
Caroline had arrived at Como where she decided to settle for, a short time while she and Pergami put their heads together, as she said, and planned a tour of the East.
An Italian countess had a charming house to sell on the lake and when Caroline saw it she decided to buy it and make alterations so that it would be a mansion worthy of a princess. Together she and Pergami planned the alterations; and in a short time it had been greatly enlarged, avenues had been planted and
as Caroline said, it was indeed her. house. She named it the Villa d’Este.
‘For,’ she explained to Pergami, ‘I am descended from that noble family.’
While she was in Rome waiting for the Villa d’Este to be made ready for her occupation, she received a letter from the Hanoverian minister, Count von Münster.
‘He is the son of my old governess,’ she told the maids who were attending to her as she read the letter. One of these was Annette, a rather flighty girl who spent a great time flirting with the male members of the household, and the other was Louise Demont who was of a more serious turn of mind. ‘Ah, what a life I used to lead the old lady! I’m afraid I was a very naughty girl. The tricks I got up to!
They would surprise you if I were to tell you.’
Louise said demurely that nothing Her Highness told them would surprise them, which amused the Princess.
‘You don’t know, you cannot imagine,’ she declared. ‘Ah, poor Countess von Münster! And this is her son writing to me. He’s a very important person now in Hanover and he is telling me that Baron Frederick d’Ompteda will be calling on me and he hopes I will receive him. The Baron is the Hanoverian envoy to the Pontifical Court. Well, we must make him welcome, mustn’t we? You have been to tell the Baron Pergami that I wish to see him?’
‘Madam, shall we wait until you are dressed?’
‘No, no, no! Send him now. He can assist at the dressing, it will not be the first time.’
When the Baron Pergami arrived, the two girls left him alone with the Princess.
‘What a strange way to behave,’ said Louise primly. ‘I am not surprised that there are all these rumours.’
‘Are there rumours?’ asked Annette.
‘Have you not heard of them?’
Annette shook her head. She had little time to listen to rumours; her great concern was with a young German who had recently joined the household.
Maurice Credé was very attractive and she was sure he had noticed her.
‘My dear Baron,’ cried the Princess, ‘how good of you to call! My good friend the Count von Münster told me that you would be coming. I trust that you will be frequently with us. We are delighted to have you.’
Indiscretions of the Queen Page 31