THE ROYAL FAMILY.
1728.
Frederick Louis, the eldest son of George the Second, still remained
at Hanover, though now direct heir to the throne of England, and his
father made no sign. Remembering perchance what a thorn he, when Prince
of Wales, had been in his father’s side, the King was afraid lest his
heir should treat him likewise, and the Queen, whose affection had
gone to her younger son, William, Duke of Cumberland, agreed with her
husband as to the advisability of keeping their first-born away from
England as long as possible. This is more extraordinary when it is
remembered that the policy of George the First in keeping Frederick
at Hanover was, in the early part of his reign, one of his son’s
grievances against him, and he and the Princess frequently urged, both
in private and public, that their son should be brought to England.
But after the birth of William, Duke of Cumberland, they completely
changed their minds, and were as anxious to keep Frederick at Hanover
as they had formerly been to have him in England. They would have liked
to supplant the elder brother by the younger, who was born on British
soil--to give Prince Frederick Hanover only, and reserve the throne of
England for Prince William. They forgot that the English crown was not
theirs to give. In the latter days of George the First’s reign Walpole
urged upon the old King the advisability of bringing his grandson to
England, and George would, it was said, have brought him back with him
after his last visit to Hanover. But his death on the road thither
changed all this.
Neither the King nor the Queen had any affection for their eldest
son, who had grown up a stranger to them, and of whom they received
unfavourable accounts. On the other hand, it is only fair to say that
Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, who was by no means given to flattering any
one, were he prince or peasant, on her visit to Hanover in 1716 spoke
strongly in Frederick’s favour. She writes: “Our young Prince, the
Duke of Gloucester, has all the accomplishments that it is possible
to have at his age, with an air of sprightliness and understanding,
and something so very engaging and easy in his behaviour that he needs
not the advantage of his rank to appear charming. I had the honour
of a long conversation with him last night before the King came in.
His governor retired on purpose, as he told me afterwards, that I
might make some judgment of his genius by hearing him speak without
constraint, and I was surprised by the quickness and politeness that
appeared in everything that he said, joined to a person perfectly
agreeable, and the fine fair hair of the Princess.”
The fact that Frederick had grown up under his grandfather’s influence
prejudiced his parents against him, more especially when they heard
that he espoused the old King’s side in the family quarrel. On the
other hand, his father’s tardiness in summoning him to England after
his accession and his refusal to pay the debts he had made at Hanover
created a bad feeling on Frederick’s part towards his parents. Thus
matters stood for more than a year after the coronation, despite
the representations of Walpole and the clamours of the Opposition,
who attacked the Government for not forcing the King’s hand in this
matter. The Privy Council represented the dangers that would ensue
from suffering the heir to the throne to remain so long away from the
country over which he would one day, under Providence, reign. The King
listened very unwillingly, but while he was hesitating an incident
occurred which hastened his decision.
Prince Frederick, it will be remembered, was betrothed, more or less
formally, to Princess Wilhelmina of Prussia, and his grandfather had
promised that the nuptials should be solemnised when he next came to
Hanover, but his death postponed the marriage. George the Second and
Caroline, though they did not absolutely refuse the alliance, declined
to be bound by the late King’s word, and stipulated that their daughter
Amelia should marry the Crown Prince of Prussia as a compensation. The
Queen of Prussia was more than willing, but the King of Prussia did not
want Amelia for a daughter-in-law any more than the King and Queen of
England wanted Wilhelmina, and so matters came to a standstill, to the
despair of Queen Sophie Dorothea. “I will not have a daughter-in-law,”
said the King of Prussia to his Queen, “who carries her nose in the
air and fills my Court with intrigues as others are already doing.
Your Master Fritz [the Crown Prince] shall soon get a flogging at my
hands; and then I will look out for a marriage for him.”[27] The Crown
Prince was quite ready to marry Amelia or any one else, if it would
give him some independence and protection from his father’s ill-usage.
Prince Frederick at Hanover declared himself in love with Wilhelmina,
whom he had never seen, but Wilhelmina was anything but in love with
Frederick. Her mother had so dinned him into her ears, and had given
her such accounts of him, that she had grown to dislike him. “He is a
good-natured prince,” the Queen said to her daughter; “kind-hearted,
but very foolish; if you have sense enough to tolerate his mistresses,
you will be able to do what you like with him.” Wilhelmina declared
that this was not the ideal husband of her young dreams; she wanted
some one whom she could look up to and respect, and she certainly could
not respect Frederick.
Prince Frederick’s vanity was piqued at the delay and he was indignant
at his father’s neglect, so, early in the year 1728, he determined
to take matters into his own hands. He sent Lamotte, a Hanoverian
officer, on a secret mission to Berlin to Sastot, one of the Queen’s
chamberlains. When Lamotte reached Berlin he went to Sastot and said:
“I am the bearer of a most important confidential message. You must
hide me somewhere in your house, that my arrival may remain unknown,
and you must manage that one of my letters reaches the King.” Sastot
promised, but asked if his business were good or evil. “It will be good
if people can hold their tongues,” replied the Hanoverian, “but if they
gossip it will be evil. However, as I know you are discreet, and as
I require your help in obtaining an interview with the Queen, I must
confide all to you. The Prince Frederick Louis intends being here in
three weeks at the latest. He means to escape secretly from Hanover,
brave his father’s anger, and marry the Princess. He has entrusted me
with the whole affair, and has sent me here to find out if his arrival
would be agreeable to the King and Queen, and if they are still anxious
for this marriage. If she is capable of keeping a secret and has no
suspicious people about her, will you undertake to speak to the Queen
on the subject?”[28]
The same evening the chamberlain went to Court and confided to the
Queen the weighty communication with which he was entrusted. The Queen
was overjoyed, and the next day communicated the glad news to her
daughter. “‘I shall at length see you happy, and my wishes realised
at the same time; how much joy at once,’ cried the Queen. ‘I kissed
her hands,’ said Wilhelmina, ‘which I covered with tears.’ ‘You are
crying,’ my mother exclaimed. ‘What is the matter?’ I would not disturb
her happiness, so I answered: ‘The thought of leaving you distresses
me more than all the crowns of the world could delight me.’ The Queen
was only the more tender towards me in consequence, and then left me.
I loved this dear mother truly, and had only spoken the truth to her.
She left me in a terrible state of mind. I was cruelly torn between my
affection for her, and my repugnance for the Prince, but I determined
to leave all to Providence, which should direct my ways.”[29]
The Queen held a reception the same evening, and, as ill-luck would
have it, the English envoy Bourguait came. The Queen, forgetting her
prudence, and thinking the plan was well matured, actually confided to
him the Prince’s project. Bourguait, overwhelmed with astonishment,
asked the Queen if it were really true. “Certainly,” she replied, “and
to show you how true it is, he has sent Lamotte here, who has already
informed the King of everything.” “Oh! why does your Majesty tell me
this? I am wretched, for I must prevent it!” exclaimed the envoy.
Greatly dismayed, the Queen asked him why. “Because I am my Sovereign’s
envoy; because my office requires of me that I should inform him of
so important a matter. I shall send off a messenger to England this
very evening. Would to God I had known nothing of all this!” The
Queen entreated him not to do so, but he was firm, and despatched the
messenger to England. Thus did Queen Sophie Dorothea defeat the scheme
for which she had toiled many years at the very moment of its fruition.
On receipt of the news George the Second sent Colonel Lorne to Hanover,
with commands to bring the Prince over to England without an instant’s
delay. When Lorne arrived at Hanover a few days later he found Prince
Frederick giving a ball at Herrenhausen. He gave the King’s message,
and acted with so much despatch that at the end of the ball the Prince,
escorted by Lorne, and attended by only one servant, quitted Hanover
for ever. His plot had failed; there was nothing else to be done. The
rage and disappointment when the news of the Prince’s departure reached
the Court of Berlin was very great. The King blustered and swore,
called Wilhelmina “English _canaille_,” and beat her and her brother in
a shocking manner; the Queen broke down and took to her bed; Wilhelmina
fainted away. But it was all to no purpose; not only her marriage, but
the double marriage scheme, vanished into thin air.[30]
Frederick did not find a warm welcome awaiting him from his parents.
The Prince landed in England the first week in December (1728), and
made his way to London; he arrived at St. James’s without any ceremony,
and was smuggled up the backstairs as though he had been a pretender
rather than the heir-apparent to the crown. “Yesterday,” we read, “His
Royal Highness Prince Frederick came to Whitechapel about seven in
the evening, and proceeded thence privately in a hackney coach to St.
James’s. His Royal Highness alighted at the Friary, and walked down
to the Queen’s backstairs, and was there conducted to her Majesty’s
apartment.”[31]
It must have been a strange meeting between mother and son. The Queen
received him amiably; the succession could not be altered, so she
determined to make the best of him, but the King was very harsh. George
had an unnatural and deep-rooted aversion to his eldest son, whom he
regarded as necessarily his enemy. This peculiarity was hereditary
in the House of Hanover for some generations, for the Sovereign and
his first-born were always at war with one another. Some pity must be
extended to the young Prince, who never had a fair chance. He was only
twenty-two years of age when he came to England, and he found himself
among strangers and enemies in a country of which he knew nothing. He
was very shy and frightened at first, and his father’s manner did not
tend to reassure him. Lord Hervey says that, “Whenever the Prince
was in the room with him (the King) it put one in mind of stories
that one has heard of ghosts that appear to part of the company but
are invisible to the rest; and in this manner, wherever the Prince
stood, though the King passed him ever so often, or ever so near,
it always seemed as if the King thought the Prince filled a void of
space”. The Prince did not dine in public at St. James’s the Sunday
after his arrival, but the Queen suffered him to hand her into her
pew at the Chapel Royal, and this was his first appearance before the
English Court. But, however much his parents might slight him, the fact
remained that he was, by Act of Parliament, heir to the throne, and,
through the insistence of the Privy Council, the King soon after his
arrival created him Prince of Wales. But he was careful not to give him
the allowance of £100,000 a year which had been voted by Parliament for
the Prince of Wales in the Civil List. True, Parliament had given the
King control over the Prince’s income, and he exercised it by giving
him only a small allowance. The young Prince quickly made friends, some
of them not of a very desirable character. He had been taught to speak
English fairly well, and he had pleasant manners. He had inherited
from his mother a taste for letters, and he also possessed the art
of dissimulation and a love of intrigue. He had not the slightest
affection for either of his parents--how could he have?--and he soon
began to deceive them, a task in which he found plenty to help him.
Lady Bristol in one of her letters gave a very flattering account of
him as being “the most agreeable young man it is possible to imagine,
without being the least handsome, his person little, but very well made
and genteel, a loveliness in his eyes that is indescribable, and the
most obliging address that can be conceived.” The poets praised him;
and one sycophant rhapsodised over him as follows:--
Fresh as a rose-bud newly blown and fair
As op’ning lilies: on whom every eye
With joy and admiration dwells. See, see
He rides his docile barb with manly grace.
Is it Adonis for the chase arrayed
Or Britain’s second hope?
The first hope presumably was the King, the other hopes were the rest
of the royal children. They were not a lovable family, nor was there
any love lost among them. They disliked one another thoroughly, but,
with the exception of Frederick, they were all devoted to their mother,
and they all united, Frederick included, in disliking their father,
who on his part disliked them. The King had rarely a kind word for
any of his children, and in his old age he admitted it. “I know I did
not love my children,” he said. “When they were young I hated to have
them running about the room.” Caroline, on the other hand, was devoted
to all her children, except the Prince of Wales, whom long absence
had estranged from her. One of her first acts after becoming Queen
was to dismiss the state governess, and have her daughters educated
under her immediate supervision. She was a Spartan mother, and a firm
believer in the proverb: “Spare the rod, spoil the child”. The Duchess
of Marlborough relates how on one occasion when she went to see the
Queen, then Princess of Wales, she found her chastising little Prince
William, who was roaring and kicking lustily. The Prince was looking
on complaisantly. The duchess tried to soothe the youthful delinquent.
“Ah, see,” cried George Augustus, “you English are none of you
well-bred, because you were not whipped when you were young.” “Umph!”
quoth her Grace. She afterwards said, “I thought to myself, I am sure
_you_ could not have been whipped when you were young, but I choked it
in”.
Anne, Princess Royal, was now in her twentieth year. She had little
beauty, and her figure was short and squat, but she had fair abilities
and several accomplishments; she could paint well, speak three
languages, and was an excellent musician. Her favourite recreation was
the opera, and she loved to get professional singers and players around
her, and practise with them. She was vain and ambitious, and once told
her mother that she wished she had no brothers, so that she might
succeed to the throne. On the Queen’s reproving her, she said: “I would
die to-morrow to be Queen to-day”. Unfortunately for her ambition,
heirs to thrones or reigning monarchs were in no wise attracted to
her, and so far no eligible candidate for her hand had come forward.
The Queen also once rebuked her for her lack of consideration to her
ladies. She noticed one morning that she kept her lady standing for
a long time, conversing with her on some trifling matter, while she
herself remained seated. In the evening Anne came to her mother to read
to her and was about to sit down. “No, my dear,” said the Queen, “you
must not sit down at present, I intend to keep you standing for as long
a time as you kept Lady ---- in the same position this morning.”
The second daughter, Princess Amelia, or Emily, as she was more
generally called, was better looking than her sister and far cleverer.
In her youth she had considerable pretensions to beauty, and her ready
wit made her the most popular of the princesses. “The Princess Amelia,”
writes Lady Pomfret enthusiastically to Mrs. Clayton, “is the oddest,
or at least one of the oddest princesses that ever was known; she
has her ears shut to flattery and her heart open to honesty. She has
honour, justice, good-nature, sense, wit, resolution, and more good
qualities than I have time to tell you, so mixed that (if one is not
a _devil_) it is impossible to say she has too much or too little of
any; yet all these do not in anything (without exception) make her
forget the King of England’s daughter, which dignity she keeps up with
such an obliging behaviour that she charms everybody. Do not believe
her complaisance to me makes me say one _silible_ more than the rigid
truth; though I confess she has gained my heart and has added one more
to the number of those few whose _desert_ forces one’s affection.”[32]
This paragon of a princess had been the destined bride of the Crown
Prince of Prussia afterwards Frederick the Great, but as the double
marriage scheme fell through she continued single. Several minor German
princes offered themselves, but she did not think them worthy of her
acceptance. Yet she was far from indifferent to admiration, and had a
liking for men’s society. She was of a masculine turn of mind, and her
happiest hours were passed in the hunting field, and the stables and
kennels. She liked to spend much time with her horses and discuss their
points minutely with the grooms, and one Sunday she shocked the good
people of Hampton Court by going to church in a riding costume with a
dog under each arm. She shared her father’s passion for hunting, and
was a far better rider than he. She used to hunt in a costume which was
masculine rather than feminine, and rode hard and fearlessly, followed
by her favourite groom, Spurrier. There is a curious portrait of her in
a round hunting cap and laced scarlet coat, which makes her look like
a man. She had flirtations with the Duke of Newcastle and the Duke of
Grafton; that with the latter was serious. It went on for a long time,
and the Princess seems really to have been attached to him, though he
was much older than she.
[Illustration: THE PRINCESS AMELIA.
(SECOND DAUGHTER OF GEORGE II.)]
The Duke of Grafton, the Lord Chamberlain, was a grandson of
Charles the Second, and had the personal beauty and charm of manner
characteristic of the Fitzroys. He made no secret of his attentions to
the Princess, and she received them with a great deal of favour. Queen
Caroline was annoyed at what she considered was the duke’s presumption
in aspiring to be her daughter’s lover. She also resented his familiar
manner towards herself; he frequently addressed her as though he were
her equal, and indeed he considered himself to be a scion of royalty.
He once told her that he believed it was not in her nature to love any
one, to which she replied: “But I love the King”. He answered: “By God,
ma’am, I do not know, but if I were King of France I would soon find
out whether you did or not”. He used to tease her also with the tale
that she was in love with some German prince before her marriage to
the Electoral Prince of Hanover, and ended by saying: “God, ma’am, I
wish I could see the man you _could_ love”. As she could not repress
him, Caroline affected to treat these familiarities as a joke, but she
secretly resented them. She did her best to put an end to the intimacy
between her daughter and the duke, but without much effect. The
Princess Amelia and the duke would go a-hunting together two or three
times a week, and frequently rode away from the rest of the party. On
one occasion at Windsor their attendants lost them altogether, and they
did not return to the castle until long after it was dark. It was
said that they had gone together to a private house in Windsor forest
and there remained. The King was absent from England at the time this
happened, but the Queen was highly incensed, and soundly rated Amelia
on her imprudence. She would have complained to the King about the Duke
of Grafton, but Walpole dissuaded her from doing so. The duke would not
have cared, and it would have done the princess harm.
The year after the King’s accession to the throne Princess Amelia
went to Bath to drink the waters, attended by Lady Pomfret. Royal
visits to Bath were as yet few and far between, indeed the only royal
personages who had visited Bath before the Princess were Queen Anne
(before she came to the throne) with her husband Prince George of
Denmark.[33] Princess Amelia was received by the Mayor and Corporation
in full state, and a hundred young men on horseback met her coach at
the North Gate and formed an escort to her lodgings. Bath had already
become a gay and fashionable place, and many persons of quality and
of no quality at all, who suffered from gout, rheumatism, the results
of dissipation, or that mysterious ailment which the ladies of the
eighteenth century called “vapours,” flocked thither to drink the
waters and kill the time. The pump room and assembly-rooms were
“elegantly fitted” and a band played daily. Breakfast parties were
much the vogue at “one and twenty pence a piece,” and the forenoon
was passed in drinking the waters and listening to the concert. In
the afternoon there were the bowling greens and the promenade in the
gardens skirting the river, the toy shops and the coffee-houses where
the _beau monde_ loitered, drinking “dishes of tea” and eating Bath
buns. In the evening there were cards and dancing--and there was
scandal all day long. Bath was then under the reign of “King” Nash,
who had become its _arbiter elegantiarum_. Opinions differ as to the
services Nash rendered to Bath. Some say he made the place; others that
he merely cloaked the grossness and licentiousness of the fashionable
world there by throwing over it a garb of mock ceremony. Certainly
Bath was a hotbed of gambling, and many undesirable characters were
attracted thither simply by the high play.
Princess Amelia’s arrival caused quite a flutter in the gay world
of Bath. She took the waters in the morning, and after drinking
them strolled in Harrison’s walks, all the men and women of fashion
following after her or keeping within a respectful distance. But there
was one who would not pay her homage, and she was Lady Wigtown, a
Jacobite peeress. One day in the public garden Lady Wigtown met the
Princess face to face, and without taking the slightest notice of
her, she pushed aside the ladies-in-waiting and walked past. Of this
incident Lady Pomfret writes to Mrs. Clayton: “Lady Frances Manners
asked me if I knew my Lady Wigtown (a Scottish countess). I said I had
never heard of her in my life, and believed she had not yet sent to the
Princess; upon which both she and the Duchess of Rutland smiled, and
said: ‘No, nor will, I can tell you; for seeing the Princess coming to
the pump the morning before, she had run away like a Fury for fear of
seeing her; and declares so public an aversion for the King, etc., that
she would not go to the ball made on the Queen’s birthday; and some of
that subscription money remaining, the company had another ball, which
she denied going to, and told all the people it was because the Queen’s
money made it’.”[34]
These balls began at six o’clock in the evening, and were under the
direction of Beau Nash, who commanded that they should be over by
eleven at the latest. When the first stroke of the hour sounded the
Beau waved his wand, and the music ceased, though it were in the middle
of a dance. Once the Princess Amelia objected to this summary ending.
“One more dance, Mr. Nash; remember I am Princess.” “Yes, madam, but I
_reign_ here and _my_ law must be kept.”
It was creditable to the Princess Amelia that Lady Wigtown’s rudeness
made no difference to her courtesy to the other Jacobites and Roman
Catholics, of whom just then Bath was full. Acting under instruction
from her mother, she had a gracious word and a smile for all of them
who came her way. Among others were the unfortunate Lord Widdrington
and his lady. Lord Widdrington was one of the Jacobite peers condemned
to death for the part they had taken in the rising of ’15, but he was
ultimately pardoned, though his estates were forfeited. He brought
his broken health and ruined fortunes to Bath, where he was living in
comparative poverty when the Princess Amelia came there. The Princess
noticed Lady Widdrington in the Pump Room, and asked who she was. When
she was told she talked to her, walked with her, and generally took
much notice of her. “Her kindness,” writes Lady Pomfret, “had such an
effect upon all that sort [Jacobites] in this city that is hardly to
be imagined, and they all speak of the Princess Amelia as of something
that has charmed them ever since.” But another lady in waiting,
Mrs. Tichburne, was perturbed lest the Princess’s graciousness to a
“rebel’s wife” should be misunderstood, and Lady Pomfret thought well
to ask Mrs. Clayton to explain matters to the Queen. She need not have
troubled, for the Princess had only done as the Queen wished.
It is a pity that we cannot take leave of the Princess Amelia with
this pleasing illustration of her amiability. But truth compels us
to add that as she grew older her character sadly deteriorated. She
developed into a hard, mean, inquisitive woman, and was often insolent
without provocation. Perhaps this was due to the crossing of her young
affections, and her nature, driven back upon itself, grew warped in the
cramped atmosphere of the court. In later life Bath continued to be a
favourite resort of the Princess Amelia, for here she could indulge in
her love of cards and scandal without let or hindrance; she used to
play night after night for very high stakes, refreshing herself with
pinches of snuff during the game. One night when she was playing in
the public card room at Bath an old general, who was seated next her,
ventured to take a pinch of snuff out of her box, which stood by him
on the table. She haughtily stared at him without making any remark,
and then beckoning to her footman, ordered him to throw the snuff in
the fire and bring her a fresh box. Little peculiarities like this did
not tend to make her popular, and she grew to be generally disliked.
She lived far into the reign of her nephew George the Third, and died
unmarried.
The third daughter, Princess Caroline, was of a very different
disposition to her elder sisters; she had no beauty, and suffered
from delicate health, but she had much quiet goodness and unobtrusive
piety. When she was a child her parents used to say of her: “Send
for Caroline, and then we shall know the truth”. She was the Queen’s
favourite daughter, and was greatly attached to her. Constantly with
her mother, she was thrown a good deal into the companionship of
Lord Hervey, and conceived for him a deep and lasting love, a most
unfortunate attachment, as Lord Hervey was by no means a worthy object
for her devotion, even if he had been able to requite it properly,
which he could not, as he was married to the beautiful Lepel. Her
attachment flattered his vanity, and he must have secretly encouraged
it. The hopelessness of her passion made no difference to the gentle
Princess; she continued to cherish it until Lord Hervey’s death, and
even after his death she testified her devotion to his memory by
showing great kindness to his children. After she lost her mother she
became a confirmed invalid, and spent her life in retirement and works
of benevolence. She died unmarried.
William, Duke of Cumberland, the second surviving son of George the
Second and Caroline, was at the time they came to the throne a boy, and
had not yet developed those unamiable qualities he displayed in later
life, which earned for him undying infamy as “the butcher of Culloden”.
He was a precocious youth, very grave and solemn in his demeanour, not
caring to play like other boys, but preferring to mope in a corner
over a book, or to gaze at uniforms and military evolutions--for quite
early in life he showed a strong predilection for the army. Some
characteristic anecdotes are related of his early years. When a child
he was taken on one of his birthdays to see his grandfather, George
the First. The King asked him at what time he got up in the morning;
the young duke replied: “When the chimney-sweepers are about”. The
King asked: “Vat are de chimney-sweepers”? “Have you been so long in
England,” said his grandson, “and do not know what a chimney-sweep
is? Why, he is like that man there;” and he pointed to Lord Finch,
afterwards Earl of Winchelsea and Nottingham, who was in attendance.
Lord Finch, like the rest of his family, “the black funereal Finches,”
had a very swarthy complexion, and after this he was generally known
by the nickname of “The Chimney Sweep”. On another occasion, after a
display of temper, his mother ordered the duke to be locked up in his
room. When he came out he was downcast and sullen. “William,” inquired
the Queen, “what have you been doing?” “Reading,” he said shortly.
“Reading what?” “The Bible.” “And what did you read there?” “About
Jesus and Mary.” “And what about them?” asked the Queen. “Why,” replied
William, “that Jesus said to Mary: ‘_Woman, what hast thou to do with
me?_’”
Lady Strafford has left an account of the Duke of Cumberland’s birthday
reception, a sort of children’s party which represents the young prince
in a more amiable light:--
“My love” (her son, Lord Wentworth), she writes, “is perfectly well
and vastly delighted with his Court ball. I took him to Court in
the morning, and the Queen cried out: ‘Oh! Lord Wentworth! how do
you do? you have mightily grown! My lady, he is prodigiously well
dressed. I hope you will let him come to our ball to night.’ After
the drawing-room was over the duke had a _levée_ in his own room,
so I desired my brother to take him there, and the duke told him he
hoped he would do him the favour to come at night. But as a great
misfortune Lady Deloraine fell in labour, and was just brought to bed
of a dead son; so they could not have the room they used to dance in
(it being next to hers), so they had a bad little room and they did
not dance French dances. Princess Amelia asked Lord Wentworth to dance
one with her, and afterwards the duke gave him Lady Caroline Fitzroy
for his partner. They had a supper of cold chicken, tongue, jelly and
sweetmeats, but they were (served) in an odd manner, for they had
neither knives nor plates, so that well as my love loves eating, he
says he ate but a leg of a chicken, for he says he did not (think)
it looked well to be pulling greasy bones about in a room full of
princesses; the way of getting rid of the bones was the children threw
them out of the window. The King was present to see them dance, but not
the Queen. The ball ended about half an hour after ten. The duke was
quite free and easy, and extremely civil.”
Of the two younger princesses, Mary and Louisa, there is little to
be said, as they were children during their mother’s lifetime. Mary,
like her sister Caroline, was of a soft and gentle disposition. Some
years after her mother’s death she was married to Frederick, Hereditary
Prince of Hesse-Cassel, an obstinate, ill-tempered prince, who treated
his wife with cruelty and infidelity, and her life was a very unhappy
one. She survived her husband a few years.
Princess Louisa, the youngest of them all, was by far the most
beautiful of Queen Caroline’s daughters, and inherited her mother’s
abilities and accomplishments. She married Frederick, Crown Prince of
Denmark, and in due time became Queen of Denmark. Her married life was
not altogether happy, but she had her mother’s philosophy and made
the best of it. She died of the same illness as Queen Caroline, and
curiously enough from the same cause--concealing the nature of her
malady until it was too late.
Though the King enjoyed an enormous Civil List he was exceedingly
mean to his children. To his daughters, though three of them had now
grown up, he gave little or nothing. Anne and Amelia were often in
need of pocket-money, and not above borrowing of the people about
the court. Their dress allowance was exceedingly small, and if their
mother had not helped them, they would scarcely have been able to make
a presentable appearance at their father’s drawing-rooms. There is a
curious old paper extant,[35] endorsed “Mrs. Powis,” who was probably
dresser to the Princesses, which gives some idea of their wardrobe. The
following extracts may be quoted:--
“_What was delivered yearly for each Princess (Anne, Amelia and
Caroline)_:
“Winter Clothes:--
Two coats embroider’d, one trim’d or rich stuff, and one velvet or
rich silk without.
Three coats brocaded or damask.
A damask night-gown.
Two silk under petecoats, trim’d with gold or silver.
“Summer Clothes:--
Three flower’d coats, one of them with silver.
Three plain or stripped lastrings.
One night-gown and four silk hoops.
Shoes: a pair every week.
Gloves: sixteen dozen in the year; 18s. per dozen.
Tans: no allowance, but they did not exceed eight guineas per annum.
Mouslines and lawns were bought as wanted, no settled price.
“Sundries:--
No certain allowance for ribbons or artificial flowers.
Powder, patches, combs, pins, quilted caps, band boxes, wax, pens
and paper, came to about £40 per annum for the three princesses,
paste for hands and pomatum came from the apothecary, Mr. Tagar,
and did not come into my bill.
I paid the tire woman 129 guineas a year.
I paid for tuning the harpsichord, food for their birds, and many
other little things belonging to their Royal Highnesses, which
were too trifling to mention, which whilst the Duke was with them
came to £50 per annum.
Their Royal Highnesses had each a page of honour and gentleman usher
at £100 sallary.
Each one had a dresser at £50, and one chambermaid, I do not know at
what sallary.
Also one page of the backstairs.
The Princesses used the Queen’s coaches, footmen and grooms.”
The Princesses led singularly idle, purposeless lives; Anne and Amelia
chiefly occupied themselves with card-playing and the petty intrigues
of the court, and the way their father treated them led them early to
lie and practise the arts of dissimulation. Even Princess Caroline,
when we have credited her with all the virtues, remains a colourless
nonentity. The Princesses always appeared at court festivities and took
part in whatever was going on, and the Queen would often relax some of
the stiffness of etiquette for the benefit of the young people. For
instance, sometimes after the evening drawing-rooms she would turn the
function into a ball. We read:--
“On Monday night His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales and the
Princess Royal opened a ball at Court with a minuet, and afterwards
they danced several set dances with several of the quality till between
four and five o’clock next morning. Her Majesty was richly dressed,
and wore a flowered muslin hood with an edging. The Princess Royal had
the like, which makes it believed that muslins will come into fashion.
There never was seen so great an appearance, either for number or
magnificence as on the like occasion.”[36]
Nor was the King to be outdone in the splendour of his attire; indeed
he outshone the Queen, for he loved dress and display far more. We
read: “His Majesty appeared in a suit of crimson velvet with gold
buttons and button holes, sleeves faced with rich tissue, and a
waistcoat of the same.”
The great days at court were the royal birthdays. The birthdays of
the Prince of Wales and all the royal children were duly celebrated.
The Queen’s birthdays were always largely attended, and so were the
King’s at the beginning of the reign. But after his visits to Hanover
he became very unpopular, and he noted with ire that not only was the
attendance meagre at his drawing-rooms, but there were no new clothes
for the occasion. If any of the great nobility absented themselves
from the drawing-rooms for any time, as some occasionally thought fit
to do, they were generally conciliated by the Queen and persuaded to
put in an appearance again. The birthday drawing-rooms were chiefly
remarkable for the splendour of the clothes, every one appearing in
his best, and even the royal footmen being arrayed in new liveries.
“There was his Majesty in scarlet and gold,” writes a correspondent;
“the Duke of Cumberland in blue trimmed with silver; the Princess Anne
in silver and colours of yellow; the Princess Louisa in a dark green
velvet, embroidered in gold; my Lady Browne in scarlet, with great
roses not unlike large silver soup plates, made in an old silver lace,
and spotted all over her gown.”
But these were great occasions; in the ordinary way the private life of
the court was dull, even in these early days of the reign, and there
was little doing except ombre or quadrille. Peter Wentworth, who was
now one of the Queen’s equerries and was sometimes in attendance on
the Prince of Wales and sometimes on the Princess Royal, gives a fair
description of how the Royal Family spent their evenings. Writing to
his brother Lord Strafford, he says:--
“The quadrille table is well known, and there is a large table
surrounded by my master (the Prince of Wales), the Princesses, the
Duke of Cumberland, the bedchamber ladies, Lord Lumley, and all the
_belle-assemblée_, at a most stupid game, to my mind, lottery ticket.
£100 is sometimes lost at this pastime. The maids play below with the
King in Mrs. Howard’s apartment, and the moment they come up, the Queen
starts up and goes into her apartment.... T’other night Lord Grantham
and the Queen had a dispute about going to a room without passing by
the backstairs; she bade him go and see; he did, and came back as
positive as before. ‘Well,’ says she, ‘will you go along with me if I
show you the way?’ ‘Yes, madam,’ says he. Up she starts, and trots away
with one candle, and came back triumphant over my Lord Grantham. The
_belle-assemblée_ was in an uproar, thinking the King was ill, when I
told them ’twas a wager between the Queen and my Lord Grantham.”[37]
The Queen was fond of these little jokes, for on another occasion
we find Peter Wentworth writing: “Sunday, in the evening the Queen
commanded me to order her a chaise and one horse, and a coach and six
to follow, for Monday, at six o’clock in the morn, and six Life Guards
and two Grenadiers, and your humble servant a-horseback, which was to
be kept a great secret. When I had put her Majesty into her chaise with
Princess Mary, she bid me ride and tell the Colonel of the Guard not
to beat the drum as she passed out [of St. James’s]. We drove to the
foot ferry at Kew, where there was a barge of four oars which carried
her Majesty, Princess Mary, Mrs. Purcell and I to the Queen’s house at
Kew. The whole joke of keeping this a secret was upon Lord Lifford, who
had said ’twas impossible for her Majesty to go out at any time but he
should know it. When we came there, therefore, the Queen sent for the
other Princesses, Lord Hervey and Lord Lifford to breakfast with her.
Lord Hervey, Princess Caroline and Princess Louisa came before ten;
the Queen, Mrs. Purcell and I walked twice round the garden before
they came. We had a fine breakfast, with the addition of cherries
and strawberries we plucked from the garden, some of which the Queen
gave me with her own hand; and said to Lord Hervey _C’est un très bon
enfant_, and repeated it several times, Lord Hervey assenting. I never
suspected she spoke of me, which she, perceiving, said in English: ‘We
are speaking of you; you know I love you, and you shall know I love, I
do really love you’. I made low bows, but had not the impromptu wit nor
assurance to make any other answer.”[38]
And again:--
“On Saturday when the Queen was at Kew, the Blue Horse Guards in stocks
stood sentry there. As she goes up the court she says to Lord Lifford
and me: ‘I’ll lay you what you will he of the right is a Scotsman, and
he of the left an Englishman and a Yorkshireman’. When she came up to
them, she asked him of the right, who was a handsome young fellow and
a gentleman volunteer: ‘What countryman are you?’ ‘A Scotsman, your
Majesty.’ ‘What’s your name?’ ‘Hamilton.’ ‘Of what family?’ ‘The dukes
of that name.’ ‘How long have you been in the regiment?’ ‘Ever since it
has been the Duke of Argyll’s.’ Then she turns to t’other man, and asks
what countryman he was? ‘An Englishman, your Majesty.’ ‘Your name?’
‘Hill.’ ‘What county?’ ‘Yorkshire.’ The Queen was pleased and so was
I, for I would always have her pleased, and turned about to my lord
and me, and said: ‘N’est-ce pas que j’ay dit vray? Je connais bien la
physiognomie.’”
FOOTNOTES TO BOOK III, CHAPTER IV:
[27] _Memoirs of Wilhelmina, Margravine of Baireuth._
[28] _Memoirs of Wilhelmina, Margravine of Baireuth._
[29] _Memoirs of Wilhelmina, Margravine of Baireuth._
[30] Wilhelmina states in her _Memoirs_ that the whole thing was a plot
of George II., who wished to find an excuse for keeping his son away
from England altogether, but the candour of the Queen of Prussia spoilt
it all. But there is nothing to support this statement.
[31] _Daily Post_, 5th December, 1728.
[32] The Countess of Pomfret to Mrs. Clayton, 22nd April, 1728. _Sundon
Correspondence._
[33] Thackeray says in his _Four Georges_: “As for Bath, all history
went and bathed and drank there; George II. and his Queen,” etc. In
point of fact, neither George II. nor Queen Caroline went to Bath.
Princess Amelia went in 1728; the Prince of Orange in 1734, the Prince
and Princess of Wales in 1738, and Princesses Caroline and Mary in 1840.
[34] The Countess of Pomfret to Mrs. Clayton, Bath, 6th May 1728.
[35] In the Manuscript Department, British Museum.
[36] _Daily Advertiser_, 3rd March, 1731.
[37] The Hon. Peter Wentworth to the Earl of Strafford, 10th August,
1730.
[38] The Hon. Peter Wentworth to the Earl of Strafford, London 3rd
June, 1735.