which clung to him through life, the dyspepsia producing fluctuation of
spirits, and occasional hypochondria, which, it might have been thought,
would seriously interfere with his success as a court favourite. "At one
time he astonished the observer by his sanguine, bubbling, provoking,
unreserved, quick, fiery or humorous, cheerful, even unrestrainedly gay
manner, winning him by his hearty open advances where he felt himself
attracted and encouraged to confidence; at other times he was all
seriousness, placidity, self-possession, cool circumspection, methodical
consideration, prudence, criticism, even irony and scepticism." Such is
not the portrait which imagination paints of the demeanour of a court
favourite. But Stockmar had one invaluable qualification for the part--
he had conscientiously made up his mind that it is a man's duty in life
to endure being bored.
The favour of a Prince of Saxe Coburg would not in itself have been
fortune. A certain Royal Duke was, as everybody who ever had the honour
of being within earshot of him knew, in the habit of thinking aloud. It
was said that at the marriage of a German prince with an English
princess, at which the Duke was present, when the bridegroom pronounced
the words: "With all my worldly goods I thee endow," a voice from the
circle responded, "The boots you stand in are not paid for." But as it
was sung of the aggrandizement of Austria in former days--
"Let others war, do thou, blest Austria, wed,"
so the house of Saxe Coburg may be said in later days to have been
aggrandized by weddings. The marriage of his patron with the presumptive
heiress to the Crown of England was the beginning of Stockmar's
subterranean greatness.
The Princess Charlotte expressed herself to Stockmar with regard to the
character of her revered parents in the following "pithy" manner:--"My
mother was bad, but she could not have become as bad as she was if my
father had not been infinitely worse." The Regent was anxious to have
the Princess married for two reasons, in the opinion of the judicious
author of this memoir--because he wanted to be rid of his daughter, and
because when she married she would form less of a link between him and
his wife. Accordingly, when she was eighteen, hints were given her
through the court physician, Sir Henry Halford (such is the course of
royal love), that if she would have the kindness to fix her affections
on the hereditary Prince of Orange (afterwards King William II. of the
Netherlands), whom she had never seen, it would be exceedingly
convenient. The Prince came over to England, and, by the help of a
"certain amount of artful precipitation on the part of the father," the
pair became formally engaged. The Princess said at first that she did
not think her betrothed "by any means so disagreeable as she had
expected." In time, however, this ardour of affection abated. The Prince
was a baddish subject, and he had a free-and-easy manner, and wanted
tact and refinement. He returned to London from some races seated on the
outside of a coach, and in a highly excited state. Worst of all, he
lodged at his tailor's. The engagement was ultimately broken off by a
difficulty with regard to the future residence of the couple, which
would evidently have become more complicated and serious if the Queen of
the Netherlands had ever inherited the Crown of England. The Princess
was passionately opposed to leaving her country. The Regent and his
ministers tried to keep the poor girl in the dark, and get her into a
position from which there would be no retreat. But she had a temper and
a will of her own; and her recalcitration was assisted by the
Parliamentary Opposition, who saw in the marriage a move of Tory policy,
and by her mother, who saw in it something agreeable to her husband. Any
one who wishes to see how diplomatic lovers quarrel will find
instruction in these pages.
The place left vacant by the rejected William was taken by Prince
Leopold, with whom Stockmar came to England. In Stockmar's Diary of May
5th, 1806, is the entry:--"I saw the sun (that of royalty we presume,
not the much calumniated sun of Britain) for the first time at Oatlands.
Baron Hardenbroek, the Prince's equerry, was going into the breakfast-
room. I followed him, when he suddenly signed to me with his hand to
stay behind; but she had already seen me and I her. '_Aha,
docteur_,' she said, '_entrez_.' She was handsomer than I had
expected, with most peculiar manners, her hands generally folded behind
her, her body always pushed forward, never standing quiet, from time to
time stamping her foot, laughing a great deal and talking still more. I
was examined from head to foot, without, however, losing my countenance.
My first impression was not favourable. In the evening she pleased me
more. Her dress was simple and in good taste." The Princess took to the
doctor, and, of course, he took to her. A subsequent entry in his Diary
is:--"The Princess is in good humour, and then she pleases easily. I
thought her dress particularly becoming; dark roses in her hair, a short
light blue dress without sleeves, with a low round collar, a white
puffed out Russian chemisette, the sleeves of lace. I have never seen
her in any dress which was not both simple and in good taste." She seems
to have improved under the influence of her husband, whom his physician
calls "a manly prince and a princely man." In her manners there was some
room for improvement, if we may judge from her treatment of Duke Prosper
of Aremburg, who was one of the guests at a great dinner recorded in the
Diary:--"Prosper is a hideous little mannikin, dressed entirely in
black, with a large star. The Prince presented him to the Princess, who
was at the moment talking to the Minister Castlereagh. She returned the
duke's two profound continental bows by a slight nod of the head,
without looking at him or saying a word to him, and brought her elbow so
close to him that he could not move. He sat looking straight before him
with some, though not very marked, embarrassment. He exchanged now and
then a few words in French with the massive and mighty Lady Castlereagh,
by whose side he looked no larger than a child. When he left, the
Princess dismissed him in the same manner in which she had welcomed him,
and broke into a loud laugh before he was fairly out of the room."
Stockmar's position in the little court was not very flattering or
agreeable. The members of the household hardly regarded the poor German
physician as their equal; and if one or two of the men were pleasant,
the lady who constituted their only lawful female society, Mrs.
Campbell, Lady-in-Waiting to the Princess, was, in her ordinary moods,
decidedly the reverse. Stockmar, however, in drawing a piquant portrait
of her, has recorded the extenuating circumstances that she had once
been pretty, that she had had bitter experiences with men, and that, in
an illness during a seven months' sea-voyage, she had been kept alive
only on brandy and water. Col. Addenbrooke, the equerry to the Princess,
is painted in more favourable colours, his only weak point being "a weak
stomach, into which he carefully crams a mass of the most incongruous
things, and then complains the next day of fearful headache." What a
power of evil is a man who keeps a diary!
Greater personages than Mrs. Campbell and Colonel Addenbrooke passed
under the quick eye of the humble medical attendant, and were
photographed without being aware of it.
"_The Queen Mother_ (Charlotte, wife of George III.). 'Small and
crooked, with a true mulatto face.'
"_The Regent._ 'Very stout, though of a fine figure; distinguished
manners; does not talk half as much as his brothers; speaks tolerably
good French. He ate and drank a good deal at dinner. His brown scratch
wig not particularly becoming.'
"_The Duke of York_, the eldest son of the Regent's brothers.
'Tall, with immense _embonpoint_, and not proportionately strong
legs; he holds himself in such a way that one is always afraid he will
tumble over backwards; very bald, and not a very intelligent face: one
can see that eating, drinking, and sensual pleasure are everything to
him. Spoke a good deal of French, with a bad accent.'
"_Duchess of York_, daughter of Frederick William II. of Prussia.
'A little animated woman, talks immensely, and laughs still more. No
beauty, mouth and teeth bad. She disfigures herself still more by
distorting her mouth and blinking her eyes. In spite of the Duke's
various infidelities, their matrimonial relations are good. She is quite
aware of her husband's embarrassed circumstances, and is his prime
minister and truest friend; so that nothing is done without her help. As
soon as she entered the room, she looked round for the Banker Greenwood,
who immediately came up to her with the confidentially familiar manner
which the wealthy go-between assumes towards grand people in embarrassed
circumstances. At dinner the Duchess related that her royal father had
forced her as a girl to learn to shoot, as he had observed she had a
great aversion to it. At a grand _chasse_ she had always fired with
closed eyes, because she could not bear to see the sufferings of the
wounded animals. When the huntsmen told her that in this way she ran the
risk of causing the game more suffering through her uncertain aims, she
went to the King and asked if he would excuse her from all sport in
future if she shot a stag dead. The King promised to grant her request
if she could kill two deer, one after the other, with out missing; which
she did.'
"_Duke of Clarence_ (afterwards King William IV.). 'The smallest
and least good-looking of the brothers, decidedly like his mother; as
talkative as the rest.'
"_Duke of Kent_ (father of Queen Victoria). 'A large, powerful man;
like the King, and as bald as any one can be. The quietest of all the
Dukes I have seen; talks slowly and deliberately; is kind and
courteous.'
"_Duke of Cumberland_ (afterwards King Ernest Augustus of Hanover).
'A tall, powerful man, with a hideous face; can't see two inches before
him; one eye turned quite out of its place.'
"_Duke of Cambridge_ (the youngest son of George III.). 'A good-
looking man, with a blonde wig; is partly like his father, partly like
his mother. Speaks French and German very well, but like English, with
such rapidity, that he carries off the palm in the family art.'
"_Duke of Gloucester._ 'Prominent, meaningless eyes; without being
actually ugly, a very unpleasant face, with an animal expression; large
and stout, but with weak, helpless legs. He wears a neckcloth thicker
than his head.'
"_Wellington_, 'Middle height, neither stout nor thin; erect
figure, not stiff, not very lively, though more so than I expected, and
yet in every movement repose. Black hair, simply cut, strongly mixed
with grey: not a very high forehead, immense hawk's nose, tightly
compressed lips, strong massive under jaw. After he had spoken for some
time in the anteroom with the Royal Family, he came straight to the two
French singers, with whom he talked in a very friendly manner, and then
going round the circle, shook hands with all his acquaintance. He was
dressed entirely in black, with the Star of the Order of the Garter and
the Maria Theresa Cross. He spoke to all the officers present in an open
friendly way, though but briefly. At table he sat next the Princess. He
ate and drank moderately, and laughed at times most heartily, and
whispered many things to the Princess' ear, which made her blush and
laugh.'
"_Lord Anglesea_, (the General). 'Who lost a leg at Waterloo; a
tall, well-made man; wild, martial face, high forehead, with a large
hawk's nose, which makes a small deep angle where it joins the forehead.
A great deal of ease in his manners. Lauderdale [Footnote: Lord
Lauderdale, d. 1339; the friend of Fox; since 1807, under the Tories, an
active member of the Opposition.] told us later that it was he who
brought Lady Anglesea the intelligence that her husband had lost his leg
at Waterloo. Contrary to his wishes she had been informed of his
arrival, and, before he could say a word, she guessed that he had
brought her news of her husband, screamed out, "He is dead!" and fell
into hysterics. But when he said, "Not in the least; here is a letter
from him," she was so wonderfully relieved that she bore the truth with
great composure. He also related that, not long before the campaign,
Anglesea was having his portrait taken, and the picture was entirely
finished except one leg. Anglesea sent for the painter and said to him,
"You had better finish the leg now. I might not bring it back with me."
He lost that very leg.'
"_The Minister. Lord Castlereagh_. 'Of middle height; a very
striking and at the same time handsome face; his manners are very
pleasant and gentle, yet perfectly natural. One misses in him a certain
culture which one expects in a statesman of his eminence. He speaks
French badly, in fact execrably, and not very choice English. [Footnote:
Lord Byron, in the introduction to the sixth and the eighth cantos of
"Don Juan" says, "It is the first time since the Normans that England
has been insulted by a minister (at least) who could not speak English,
and that Parliament permitted itself to be dictated to in the language
of Mrs. Malaprop."] The Princess rallied him on the part he played in
the House of Commons as a bad speaker, as against the brilliant orators
of the Opposition, which he acknowledged merrily, and with a hearty
laugh. I am sure there is a great deal of thoughtless indifference in
him, and that this has sometimes been reckoned to him as statesmanship
of a high order.'"
In proof of Castlereagh's bad French we are told in a note that, having
to propose the health of the ladies at a great dinner, he did it in the
words--"Le bel sexe partoutte dans le monde."
Though looked down upon at the second table, Stockmar had thoroughly
established himself in the confidence and affection of the Prince and
Princess. He had become the Prince's Secretary, and in Leopold's own
words "the most valued physician of his soul and body"--wirepuller, in
fact, to the destined wirepuller of Royalty in general.
Perhaps his gratification at having attained this position may have lent
a roseate tint to his view of the felicity of the Royal couple, which he
paints in rapturous terms, saying that nothing was so great as their
love--except the British National Debt. There is, however, no reason to
doubt that the union of Leopold and Charlotte was one of the happy
exceptions to the general character of Royal marriages. Its tragic end
plunged a nation into mourning. Stockmar, with a prudence on which
perhaps he reflects with a little too much satisfaction, refused to have
anything to do with the treatment of the Princess from the commencement
of her pregnancy. He thought he detected mistakes on the part of the
English physicians, arising from the custom then prevalent in England of
lowering the strength of the expectant mother by bleeding, aperients,
and low diet, a regimen which was carried on for months. The Princess,
in fact, having been delivered of a dead son after a fifty hours'
labour, afterwards succumbed to weakness. It fell to Stockmar's lot to
break the news to the Prince, who was overwhelmed with sorrow. At the
moment of his desolation Leopold exacted from Stockmar a promise that he
would never leave him. Stockmar gave the promise, indulging at the same
time his sceptical vein by expressing in a letter to his sister his
doubt whether the Prince would remain of the same mind. This scepticism
however did not interfere with his devotion. "My health is tolerable,
for though I am uncommonly shaken, and shall be yet more so by the
sorrow of the Prince, still I feel strong enough, even stronger than I
used to be. I only leave the Prince when obliged by pressing business. I
dine alone with him and sleep in his room. Directly he wakes in the
night I get up and sit talking by his bedside till he falls asleep
again. I feel increasingly that unlooked for trials are my portion in
life, and that there will be many more of them before life is over. I
seem to be here more to care for others than for myself, and I am well
content with this destiny."
Sir Richard Croft, the accoucheur of the Princess, overwhelmed by the
calamity, committed suicide. "Poor Croft," exclaims the cool and
benevolent Stockmar, "does not the whole thing look like some malicious
temptation, which might have overcome even some one stronger than you?
The first link in the chain of your misery was nothing but an especially
honourable and desirable event in the course of your profession. You
made a mistake in your mode of treatment; still, individual mistakes are
here so easy. Thoughtlessness and excessive reliance on your own
experience, prevented you from weighing deeply the course to be followed
by you. When the catastrophe had happened, doubts, of course, arose in
your mind as to whether you ought not to have acted differently, and
these doubts, coupled with the impossibility of proving your innocence
to the public, even though you were blameless, became torture to you.
Peace to thy ashes, on which no guilt rests save that thou wert not
exceptionally wise or exceptionally strong."
Leopold was inclined to go home, but remained in England by the advice
of Stockmar, who perceived that, in the first place, there would be
something odious in the Prince's spending his English allowance of
L50,000 a year on the Continent, and in the second place, that a good
position in England would be his strongest vantage ground in case of any
new opening presenting itself elsewhere.
About this time another birth took place in the Royal Family under
happier auspices. The Duke of Kent was married to the widowed Princess
of Leiningen, a sister of Prince Leopold. The Duke was a Liberal in
politics, on bad terms with his brothers, and in financial difficulties
which prevented his living in England. Finding, however, that his
Duchess was likely to present him with an heir who would also be the
heir to the Crown, and being very anxious that the child should be born
in England, he obtained the means of coming home through friends, after
appealing to his brothers in vain. Shortly after his return "a pretty
little princess, plump as a partridge," was born. In the same year the
Duke died. His widow, owing to his debts, was left in a very
uncomfortable position. Her brother Leopold enabled her to return to
Kensington, where she devoted herself to the education of her child--
Queen Victoria.
The first opening which presented itself to Leopold was the Kingdom of
Greece, which was offered him by "The Powers." After going pretty far he
backed out, much to the disgust of "The Powers," who called him "Marquis
Peu-a-peu" (the nickname given him by George IV.) and said that "he had
no colour," and that he wanted the English Regency. The fact seems to be
that he and his Stockmar, on further consideration of the enterprise,
did not like the look of it. Neither of them, especially Stockmar,
desired a "crown of thorns," which their disinterested advisers would
have had them take on heroic and ascetic principles. Leopold was rather
attracted by the poetry of the thing: Stockmar was not. "For the poetry
which Greece would have afforded, I am not inclined to give very much.
Mortals see only the bad side of things they have, and the good side of
the things they have not. That is the whole difference between Greece
and Belgium, though I do not mean to deny that when the first King of
Greece shall, after all manner of toils, have died, his life may not
furnish the poet with excellent matter for an epic poem." The
philosophic creed of Stockmar was that "the most valuable side of life
consists in its negative conditions,"--in other words in freedom from
annoyance, and in the absence of "crowns of thorns."
The candidature of Leopold for the Greek Throne coincided with the
Wellington Administration, and the active part taken by Stockmar gave
him special opportunities of studying the Duke's political character
which he did with great attention. His estimate of it is low.
"The way in which Wellington would preserve and husband the rewards of
his own services and the gifts of fortune, I took as the measure of the
higher capabilities of his mind. It required no long time, however, and
no great exertion, to perceive that the natural sobriety of his
temperament, founded upon an inborn want of sensibility, was unable to
withstand the intoxicating influence of the flattery by which he was
surrounded. The knowledge of himself became visibly more and more
obscured. The restlessness of his activity, and his natural lust for
power, became daily more ungovernable.
"Blinded by the language of his admirers, and too much elated to
estimate correctly his own powers, he impatiently and of his own accord
abandoned the proud position of the victorious general to exchange it
for the most painful position which a human being can occupy--viz., the
management of the affairs of a great nation with insufficient mental
gifts and inadequate knowledge. He had hardly forced himself upon the
nation as Prime Minister, intending to add the glory of a statesman to
that of a warrior when he succeeded, by his manner of conducting
business, in shaking the confidence of the people. With laughable
infatuation he sedulously employed every opportunity of proving to the
world the hopeless incapacity which made it impossible for him to seize
the natural connection between cause and effect. With a rare
_naivete_ he confessed publicly and without hesitation the mistaken
conclusions he had come to in the weightiest affairs of State; mistakes
with the commonest understanding could have discovered, which filled the
impartial with pitying astonishment, and caused terror and consternation
even among the host of his flatterers and partisans. Yet, so great and
so strong was the preconceived opinion of the people in his favour, that
only the irresistible proofs furnished by the man's own actions could
gradually shake this opinion. It required the full force and obstinacy
of this strange self-deception in Wellington, it required the full
measure of his activity and iron persistency, in order at last, by a
perpetual reiteration of errors and mistakes, to create in the people
the firm conviction that the Duke of Wellington was one of the least
adroit and most mischievous Ministers that England ever had."
Stockmar formed a more favourable opinion afterwards, when the Duke had
ceased to be a party leader, and become the Nestor of the State. But it
must be allowed that Wellington's most intimate associates and warmest
friends thought him a failure as a politician. To the last he seemed
incapable of understanding the position of a constitutional minister,
and talked of sacrificing his convictions in order to support the
Government, as though he were not one of the Government that was to be
supported. Nor did he ever appreciate the force of opinion or the nature
of the great European movement with which he had to deal.
It seems clear from Stockmar's statement, that Wellington used his
influence over Charles X to get the Martignac Ministry, which was
moderately liberal, turned out and Polignac made Minister. In this he
doubly blundered. In the first place Polignac was not friendly but
hostile to England, and at once began to intrigue against her; in the
second place he was a fool, and by his precipitate rashness brought on
the second French Revolution, which overthrew the ascendency of the
Duke's policy in Europe, and had no small influence in overthrowing the
ascendency of his party in England. It appears that the Duke was as much
impressed with the "honesty" of Talleyrand, as he was with the "ability"
of Polignac.