LIFE AND TIMES
OF
HER MAJESTY CAROLINE MATILDA.
LIFE AND TIMES
OF
HER MAJESTY
CAROLINE MATILDA,
QUEEN OF DENMARK AND NORWAY,
AND
SISTER OF H. M. GEORGE III. OF ENGLAND,
FROM FAMILY DOCUMENTS AND PRIVATE STATE ARCHIVES.
BY
SIR C. F. LASCELLES WRAXALL, BART.
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
LONDON:
WM. H. ALLEN & CO., 13, WATERLOO PLACE, S.W.
1864.
[_All Rights reserved._]
LEWIS AND SON, PRINTERS, SWAN BUILDINGS, MOORGATE STREET.
TO
HIS MAJESTY CHRISTIAN THE NINTH,
KING OF DENMARK.
INTRODUCTION.
If there be a story which may be supposed to be thoroughly familiar to
the reading public, it is surely that of the Queen of Denmark, who is
believed to have loved not wisely but too well. The fate of Struensee
has supplied the motive for countless works more or less historical, for
novels, and even for an opera. Hence it might reasonably be assumed that
the man who ventured on intruding on the English public another work
on such a thoroughly worn-out topic, must be either very impudent or
very foolish; and yet I have ventured to do so through neither of these
failings, but for reasons which have been duly weighed, and which appear
to my mind to convey their justification.
The first of these motives is, that within a very recent period a
perfectly new light has been thrown on the whole affair, by permission
being granted to examine the privy archives of Copenhagen. From these
I have been enabled to derive the hitherto unpublished documents and
reports of the judges, and thus prove on what worthless evidence the
divorce of the queen was passed. At the same time, a great deal of fresh
matter has been rendered available about the two unhappy men who fell
victims to a mistaken sense of justice.
The late King of Denmark, who wisely thought that publicity was the best
safeguard of thrones, also allowed the "Mémoires de mon Temps" of the
Landgrave Charles of Hesse Cassel, brother-in-law of Christian VII., to
be printed for private circulation. I have been enabled to procure a
copy of this work through the kindness of Baron von JENSSEN TUSCH, who
obtained it from the Prince of Augustenburg; and the many curious details
of the Court of Denmark it contains have been woven largely into my
text. Another work which has afforded me very material assistance is the
"Memoirs of Reverdil, Secretary to Christian VII.," which appeared two or
three years ago, but is little known in this country.
Lastly, the private journals of Sir N. W. Wraxall have been laid under
contribution to a great extent. It was made known by the publication of
the "Post-humous Memoirs" that he had been connected with the Queen of
Denmark, but it was only during last year that I discovered how much
my grandfather knew of the affair, and how well he had kept silence on
the subject. I have ransacked his journals, correspondence, &c., in the
interests of the present work, and these have enabled me, I hope, to
bring together much not hitherto known, or, if known, forgotten.
As a humble follower of Lord Macaulay, I have also recognised the value
of pamphlets and chap-books, and have been able to obtain, with some cost
and trouble, nearly everything published on the palace revolution during
1772 and 1773, in Germany, Denmark, and England. I have also considered
it my duty to consult every work at all connected with the subject, and
do not think that any one has been omitted.
Whether it has been in my power to prove the innocence of the Queen of
Denmark is a question for my readers to decide. I, however, take some
credit to myself for publishing for the first time the letter which she
wrote on her death-bed to her brother. This letter passed through the
hands of the late King of Hanover to the Duchess of Augustenburg, from
whom my copy is derived.
Lastly, I have to return my hearty thanks to the many kind friends, at
home and abroad, who have aided me in my researches, or directed me where
to make them. I should be most ungrateful if I did not single out MR.
EMANUEL DEUTSCH, of the British Museum, who examined the MSS. department
thoroughly on my behalf, even though he drew a blank. The same, I regret
to say, proved the case at the State Paper Office, while the Foreign
Office, where there was a prospect of a successful find in the despatches
of Messieurs Gunning and Keith, remained hermetically closed to me. It
was some compensation for this refusal to find SIR AUGUSTUS PAGET, our
envoy at Copenhagen, at all times ready to assist me, and even to procure
me scarce books from the Danish Minister of Foreign Affairs. It is but
fair to add, that all the officials of our Foreign Office to whom I
applied in turn for admission to their archives, deplored their inability
to break through a rule which, for the interests of honest literary
research, would be far more honoured in the breach than in the observance.
LASCELLES WRAXALL.
CONTENTS OF VOL. I.
CHAPTER I.
AUGUSTA, PRINCESS OF WALES.
PAGE
Death of the Prince of Wales--His Character--His Epitaph--The
Eighteenth Century--Birth of Caroline Matilda--Lord
Bute--Melcombe's Diary--The Great No-Popery Cry--Character
of George III.--Majority of the Prince of Wales--Court
Cabals--Miss Chudleigh--Horace, Prince of Scandalia 1
CHAPTER II.
MARRIAGE OF CAROLINE MATILDA.
The Youth of Caroline Matilda--Memoirs of an Unfortunate
Queen--Education of the Princess--Specimens of her
Correspondence--Proposal of Marriage--Caroline Matilda's
Feelings--The Royal Assent--Death of the King of Denmark--Public
Opinion--The Marriage Portion--The Marriage--Farewell to
England--Landing in Denmark--Enthusiastic Reception 33
CHAPTER III.
THE DANISH COURT.
Birth of Christian VII.--Death of his Mother--Juliana Maria--The
Chronique Scandaleuse--A Severe Task-Master--The
Prince's Education--Reverdil--Curious Delusions--The
King's Illness and Death--Accession of Christian--Court
Intrigues--The Triumvirate--Royal Marriages 50
CHAPTER IV.
THE HAPPY COUPLE.
The Meeting at Roeskilde--Entrance into Copenhagen--The
Queen's Household--The Royal Family--Court Amusements--Travelling
Impressions--The Coronation--The First Quarrel--The
King goes to Holstein--Death of the Duke of York--Milady--Reverdil
leaves the Court--The New Favourite--Strange
Conduct of the King 83
CHAPTER V.
THE KING ON HIS TRAVELS.
Birth of the Crown Prince--Behaviour of the King--Removal of
Milady--Enevold Brandt--Dismissal of the Grande Maîtresse--Baron
Schimmelmann--Brandt's Attack on Holck--His
Banishment--The King's Journey--The Holstein-Gottorp
Exchange--Struensee appointed Physician--Arrival in England 108
CHAPTER VI.
CHRISTIAN IN ENGLAND.
George III.--The Journey to Town--The Stable Yard--Horace
Walpole--The First Meeting of the Kings--The Princess of
Wales--Festivities--Christian made a D.C.L.--The City
Banquet--The Bill of Fare--The Ball in the Haymarket--Christian
takes Leave--Anecdotes 134
CHAPTER VII.
CHRISTIAN IN PARIS.
Caroline Matilda at Home--Court Intrigues--France under
Louis XV.--Manners of the Eighteenth Century--The Dubarry--French
Ladies--Casanova--Louis XV. and Christian--Festivities--Poetical
Flummery--Christian's Private
Amusements--The Homeward Journey--Return to Copenhagen 159
CHAPTER VIII.
JOHN FREDERICK STRUENSEE.
The Interim Ministry--State of the Nation--The King's Health--The
Duke of Gloucester--Struensee--His Education and
Career--His Friends--Schack zu Rantzau--The Travelling
Surgeon--The Court Doctor--The Parties at Court--Plans of
Caroline Matilda 188
CHAPTER IX.
THE COURT DOCTOR.
The Queen's Illness--The New Doctor--The Favourite--Court
Revels--The Small-Pox--The Queen's Friend--A Trip to
Holstein--Recall of Brandt--Sad Scenes at Court--Downfall
Holck--Rantzau-Ascheberg--The Foreign Envoys--Presentation
of Colours 215
CHAPTER X.
THE QUEEN'S FRIEND.
The Princess of Wales--Mother and Daughter--George III.--The
Cabal--The War with Algiers--The Palace of Hirschholm--Fall
of the Premier--Proposed Reforms--Struensee's
Maxims--The Council of State--The Royal Hunt--A Lovely
Woman--Brandt's Folly 246
CHAPTER XI.
THE MASTER OF REQUESTS.
Education of the Crown Prince--Frederick VI.--Condition of
the King--A Royal Squabble--The Swedish Princes--The
Foundling Hospital--Count von der Osten--The Empress
Catharine--Suppression of the Privy Council--The Grand
Vizier--The Council of Conferences--The Free Press 286
CHAPTER XII.
THE GREAT REFORMER.
Establishment of the Lottery--The King's Birthday--The Order
of Matilda--Von Falckenskjold--The Russian Quarrel--The
Civic Council--Court Retrenchment--The College of
Finances--Rosenborg Gardens--The Gardes du Corps--Struensee's
Pusillanimity--Negociations with Russia--Rumours of War 311
CHAPTER XIII.
THE CABINET MINISTER.
Birth of a Princess--The Cabinet Minister--The Lex Regia--General
Dissatisfaction--The New Counts--Struensee's Coat
of Arms--Foreign Affairs--A Favourite has no Friends--The
German Grievance--A Dangerous Foe--Ingratitude of Brandt--Return
of Reverdil--Arrival at Court--Homicidal Mania--The
King of Prussia--Habits of the Court--The Prince
Royal 342
LIFE AND TIMES
OF
CAROLINE MATILDA.
CHAPTER I.
AUGUSTA, PRINCESS OF WALES.
DEATH OF THE PRINCE OF WALES--HIS CHARACTER--HIS EPITAPH--THE
EIGHTEENTH CENTURY--BIRTH OF CAROLINE MATILDA--LORD
BUTE--MELCOMBE'S DIARY--THE GREAT NO-POPERY CRY--CHARACTER OF
GEORGE III.--MAJORITY OF THE PRINCE OF WALES--COURT CABALS--MISS
CHUDLEIGH--HORACE, PRINCE OF SCANDALIA.
On a March evening, in 1751, the beau monde of London was gently agitated
by the news that Frederick, Prince of Wales, had just expired, at his
house in Leicester Fields. He died somewhat suddenly, and in the arms of
one Desnoyers, a French dancing master, who, having been called in to
soothe the prince's mind by playing the fiddle at his bedside, had the
honour of holding him in his arms during the final struggle. Orpheus,
we read, could charm savage beasts by the sound of his lyre; but the
violin, however eloquently played, had no authority over tyrant Death.
The prince had received a blow in the side from a cricket-ball some
months previously, while playing at that game on the lawn of Cliefden
House. This had formed an internal abscess, which eventually burst, and
the discharge suffocated him.[1]
The prince's death created no great sensation. It is notorious that he
had long been on bad terms with his royal father; but that is too common
a thing in German regnant houses to deserve comment: in such, the rule
_divide et impera_ is carried out logically; that is to say, the father
tyrannises, and commands his son to join the Opposition, in order, in any
event, to keep the power in the family, should the over-taut bow-string
snap.
Frederick, Prince of Wales, at an early age was instructed in the
noble art of hunting with the dogs and howling with the wolves; and
the historical searcher comes across amusing instances of his pseudo
liberalism. One of the most remarkable, was his reply to the City
addresses on the birth of his eldest son, when he had the audacity to
say--doubtless, with his tongue in his cheek--"My son, I hope, may come
in time to deserve the gratitude of a free people; and it shall be my
constant care to instruct him that true loyalty can only be the result
of liberty." I really cannot feel surprised at his father detesting the
hypocrite so thoroughly.
The fulness of pride which made George III. declare, in his first speech
after ascending the throne, that, "born and educated in this country, I
glory in the name of Briton,"[2] had been fostered by his father from a
very early age. A curious instance of this will be found in the following
extract from a prologue to _Cato_, which was put in the lad's mouth on
January 4, 1749, in a representation of that play by the royal family at
Leicester House. After making a tremendous panegyric on liberty, the boy
goes on to say--
"Should this superior to my years be thought,
Know--'tis the first great lesson I was taught.
What! tho' a boy! it may with pride be said:
A boy,--in England born,--in England bred;
Where freedom well becomes the earliest state;
For there the laws of liberty innate," &c. &c.
It may fairly be assumed that this boast was produced with such
reiteration less through a feeling of sincerity than a desire of
instituting odorous comparisons with the lad's grandpapa, who did not
enjoy the honour of being born a Briton. George II., who with all his
faults was no hypocrite, saw through this amiable purpose, and detested
his son the more.
Besides, George II., though a worthy little man in some respects, was
not remarkable for amiability of temper; and though he professed to
be devotedly attached to his wife--after her death--his affection
during her life was considerably suggested by that unconscious dread
which a stupid husband has of a wife who is not only clever herself,
but competent to gauge her husband's stupidity.[3] Still, with all his
grievances against his son--and they were, doubtless, many--he ought
to have studied proprieties a little more, when he heard of Prince
Frederick's death; and that horrid "Fritz ist todt," whispered in the ear
of the Countess of Yarmouth, displays an unforgiving spirit, hardly to be
reconciled with the generally generous temper of George II.; for, like
most peppery men, he was good natured.[4]
I have waded through all the authorities who have left us any account of
the prince, and the conclusion arrived at is only a negative one. Lord
Melcombe may be put out of court at once, for he evidently wrote under
the influence of that feeling of gratitude which has been defined as
a lively sense of favours to come. Having been bubbled by the father,
he did not intend to spoil his game with the son,--especially as that
son was the future fountain of all honours. But Frederick owed a great
many of his bad qualities to this Bubb Dodington, who in more than one
respect resembled the sillabub to which my Lord Chesterfield compared
him; for he was sweet, cloying, and left a very unpleasant taste in
the mouth. Surrounded by flatterers and sycophants, Frederick had just
sufficient sense to see that he was being made a tool of; and he learned
the art himself to perfection. It has been urged in his favour, that he
patronised literature and art; but if he obtained any credit on that
account, it was on the same principle as makes a one-eyed man a king
among the blind. He condescended to visit POPE at Twickenham; and, in
return, the poet immortalised him, by the delicate allusion conveyed in
the two lines--
"And if yet higher the proud list should end,
Still, let me add, no follower but a friend."
But, granted this merit, the remaining qualities that make up the
character of Frederick are of the most negative type. He was a
spendthrift: he borrowed money unblushingly, careless as to where he
obtained it, and with the very faintest expectation of repaying it.
Though a father of seven children, he lived in open adultery with a
lady, whose house in Pall Mall had a secret communication with Carlton
House. He was pretty frequently in the habit of paying visits to
fortune-tellers; and would go in disguise to see the bull-baiting at
Hockley-in-the-Hole. Such is the residuum, when we take away the prestige
of princely birth. Nor, had Frederick the good fortune to excite a hearty
detestation, except in the case of his father: the people, generally,
treated his death with the most profound contempt. Two men were heard
talking of his decease in Leicester Fields:--"He has left a great many
small children." "Ay," replied the other; "and, what is worse, they
belong to our parish."[5] We may safely say of him, in the courtly
language of Sir W. Wraxall: "As far as we are authorised, from these
premisses, to form a conclusion, his premature death before he ascended
the throne ought not to excite any great national regret." But his memory
will live forever, in connection with the stinging epigram, in which the
Tory feeling toward the Hanoverian race is so wonderfully depicted:--
"Here lies Fred,
Who was alive, and is dead.
Had it been his father,
I had much rather.
Had it been his brother,
Still better than another.
Had it been his sister,
No one would have missed her.
Had it been the whole generation,
Still better for the nation.
But since 'tis only Fred,
Who was alive, and is dead,
There's no more to be said."
And yet, bad though Frederick indubitably was, and deficient in almost
every quality that constitutes the gentleman, we must not be too hard
on him. The manners of the age made him what he was; and he would have
been a wonderfully strong-minded man had he resisted their influence. It
may be a trite remark, but I fancy that nothing strikes the historical
student more than the change of manners that has taken place in so short
a period. When I was a boy, I remember being told by an old female
relative that she could perfectly well remember the coronation of George
III. In her presence, the reigns of George II. and William IV. seemed
to shake hands, and yet what a chasm existed between them. The greater
portion of the eighteenth century was a Tophet; we need only read
Casanova's Memoirs to see what it was on the Continent; but in England
it strikes us even more offensively, because here vice stalked forth
with its brazen brow uncovered. In France, on the other hand, there was
something Watteau-esque about it, and a slightly redeeming grace. It
is true that England had the great blessing of an industrious middle
class, among which moral views and the honest customs of Puritanism
were maintained; but the aristocratic classes were utterly corrupt. The
Hanoverian dynasty introduced, among other blessings, the _sauer-kraut_
tone of German pauper nobility; and its coarseness easily found access
among a people in whom every feeling of decency had been destroyed by
the fabulously shameless comedians of the Restoration. The family life
of the two first Georges was one long offence against propriety. Between
the first George and his son the feeling of hatred was so extreme, that,
after the death of the former, a document was found in his cabinet
containing the proposition and plan to seize the Prince of Wales and ship
him off to the colonies, where he could be easily got rid of. When we
remember, too, the mistresses whom George I. brought in his train from
Hanover--the "Elephant," that enormous lump of flesh, Sophie Freifrau
von Kielmansegge, and the "Maypole," her tall, thin rival, the Gräfin
Melusine von Eberstein--we can easily understand the coarseness which
appears deep-rooted in English society far into the eighteenth century.
One thing we may say in favour of this society, that no hypocrisy was
displayed. When Lady Dorchester, ex-mistress of James II., once met in
her old days, in George I.'s ante-chamber, the Duchess of Portsmouth,
ex-mistress of Charles II., and Lady Orkney, ex-mistress of William III.,
she exclaimed, loudly enough to be heard by all persons, "Good God! who
ever could have supposed that we three (well, suppose I say Traviati, as
better suited to the age than the plump word employed by her ladyship)
should meet at this place?" George II.'s sensible and virtuous wife
strove in vain to introduce a more decent tone into polite society; and
vice was still rampant far into the reign of her well-meaning grandson.
Early in the eighteenth century, polite society added to its other
accomplishments that of the wildest gambling, to which the South-Sea
Bubble gave the impulse. At White's, young gentlemen frequently lost in
one evening from £5 to £20,000; and at the Cocoa Tree, one night, there
was a single stake of £180,000. The unbounded betting mania among the
bucks was often displayed in the quaintest forms. Thus, for instance,
in 1756, Lords Rockingham and Oxford got up a race between four geese
and four turkeys from Norwich to London. English "eccentricity," as the
French would call it, had the fullest scope at that time. Take, for
instance, Lord Baltimore, whom we find travelling on the Continent, in
1769, with a harem of eight women, on whom he tried all sorts of dietetic
experiments. I need only hint at the orgies held in Medmenham Abbey, and
the blasphemous travesties of the Hell-fire Club, to which fifteen ladies
of the highest rank considered it an honour to belong.
At that time, the governing classes and the governed had scarce anything
in common but the air they breathed, or an occasional street row.
Fashionable vice affected a publicity which imparts historic value
to the satirical descriptions which Lady Mary Wortley Montagu has
left us. She tells us, _inter alia_, how, at Sir R. Walpole's seat,
a bill was discussed, for the purpose of omitting the "not" from the
Ten Commandments. Further on, we find a remark that both sexes have so
thoroughly recognised the inconveniences of matrimony that even girls
ridiculed it; and the title of "rake" graces women no less than men. Or
again, we read that, now-a-days, it is not considered at all improper to
say publicly that the Maid of Honour, Mrs. So-and-So, had got over her
confinement, but that Miss Whatshername has never thoroughly recovered
from her accouchement. With such a tone prevailing in society, we can
understand how Lord Chesterfield could reply to the notorious Miss
Chudleigh, when she complained of having been falsely accused of giving
birth to twins, "For my part, I never believe more than half of what
people say."
Under the government of George III. matters became no better. On the
contrary, the fashionable world seemed to take a pride in resenting by
their conduct the stupid domesticity of "Farmer George." We come across
lady topers, who could send the most practised wine-bibbers under the
table. Luxury, which was enormously augmented by the return of the
Nabobs, who had shaken the pagoda-tree to some effect, was displayed in
the realisation of the most wonderful caprices. Family and wedded honour
was trampled under foot, and the shamelessness of the women attained
incredible proportions. When one of the most notorious demireps, Lady
Worseley, ran away with an officer, and the insulted husband sued for a
divorce, the lady, in the hope of saving her paramour's purse, summoned
as witnesses thirty-two young noblemen and gentlemen, who had all been
her lovers with her husband's knowledge. Seven-and-twenty really appeared
in court, and one of them added, that Sir Richard once took him up to the
roof of the house to show him his wife in her bath--a Venus Anadyomene.
On the day of this remarkable trial there was an important motion in the
House, and Lord North was very anxious to secure the votes of his whole
party. Hence, when he did not see Sir Richard in his place, and the
reason for his absence was stated, he exclaimed, "Oh! if all my cuckolds
leave me in the lurch, I shall surely be in a minority." An illustration
of this remark is afforded in the fact, that the Bishop of Llandaff, when
bringing in a bill to regulate the Divorce Court, in 1777, stated, that
since George III.'s ascent of the throne, or during only sixteen years,
there had been more divorces than during the whole previous history of
England. The wives, of course, merely followed the example of their
husbands in immorality, as is usually the case. How, indeed, could any
check be possible, when a British minister, the Duke of Grafton, could
dare to drive out with his mistress, Nancy Parsons, one of the most
notorious Anonymas of the day, in the presence of the Court?
When fashionable vice was so openly and unblushingly displayed, it could
not fail but that the populace of the capital should now and then break
out into excesses of unbridled savagedom, as was more especially the
case in the notorious No-Popery riots of 1780. Crimes increased to an
extraordinary extent, not only in number, but in brutality. Horrible
murders were every-day events, as a glance at the "Annual Register" will
afford sickening proof. Members of the aristocracy committed the most
aggravated murders. As an instance, an Irish gentleman, after waylaying
a rival favoured by his mistress, offered him the choice between death
and awful mutilation, and, when the latter was chosen, carried it out
in such a way that the mutilated man died. The boldness of the robbers
and highwaymen was unbounded. The Lord Chancellor was robbed of the
great seal of England, the great Pitt of his plate, the Archbishop of
Canterbury's house was broken into, and the French mail stopped and
plundered in one of the busiest streets of the metropolis. In vain
did a justice, which rivalled crime in barbarity, pass whole batches
of death-sentences. In one year (1766), two hundred and twenty-three
persons were cast for death at the Assizes, and duly hanged. In 1786,
one hundred and thirty-three were sentenced to death at the Old Bailey
alone. Very significant signs of the age are the repeated instances of
idiotcy, insanity, and suicide. It was not at all uncommon for a noble
rake-hell,[6] who had drunk the cup of licentiousness to the dregs,
to collect a number of prostitutes for a final orgie, and blow out his
brains, either during or immediately after the Bacchanalian revel.[7]
Such was the state of society at the time when Augusta of Saxe-Coburg,
Princess of Wales, was left with seven young children, and another
shortly expected.[8] She was a young widow, only two-and-thirty years
of age, and had not a friend to depend on in the world. The king, her
papa-in-law, cordially hated her, and she had not even the consolation
of regretting her husband, for, though born a princess, she was a woman
after all, and had bitterly felt her late husband's open profligacy with
Lady Archibald Hamilton. Prince George alone expressed any regret at his
father's death, and that was in a modified form. When he was told of it,
he turned pale, and laid his hand on his breast. Ayscough said, "I am
afraid, sir, you are not well;" and the prince replied, "I feel something
here, just as I did when I saw the two workmen fall from the scaffold at
Kew."[9]
Sturdy little King George very soon recovered from the shock of his
son's death, even if he felt it; for we find that, on March 31, there
was a great court at St. James's, where the king appeared for the first
time in public since the death of the prince. On this occasion Prince
George, with his brothers, waited on his Majesty, who, in the evening,
paid a visit of condolence to his daughter-in-law at Leicester House,
which he followed up by another visit on April 4, paying great attention
to her comforts, and ordering the first quarterly payment of her income
in advance.[10] This income was by marriage settlement £100,000 a year;
but the princess had formed a resolution to pay her husband's private
debts, and kept her word. Shortly after receiving this scrap of comfort,
the widow's family was enlarged; on the evening of June 13 the princess
walked in Carlton Gardens, supped, and went to bed very well; she was
taken ill about six o'clock on the following morning, and at about eight
was delivered of a princess--the unfortunate CAROLINE MATILDA. "Both
well," Melcombe adds. Could he but have read the future, he might have
cried, "Better had she ne'er been born!"
The next few years passed over very tranquilly, to all appearance; the
princess devoted herself to the education of her children, and listening
to the advice of the only man she thoroughly trusted--Lord Bute. This
nobleman, a poor Scotchman, had made the acquaintance of Frederick
several years before, and by a diligent course of McSycophantism, had
rendered himself essential. Although he was the father of a large family,
his connection with the princess had the worst possible interpretation
put on it: and his unfortunate propensity for playing the part of
Lothario in private theatricals, gave an awful handle to Wilkes,
Churchill, and the other miscreants, who made up for the bluntness of
the weapon they handled by the ferocity of the blows they dealt. Even
the elegant Horry put an extra squeeze of gall into his standish when
describing the amours of the princess.
From Melcombe and Walpole we obtain a few glances at the domestic life of
the princess, which are worthy of attention, as showing the sphere and
the society in which Caroline Matilda was educated. The mother, it is
quite certain, dearly loved her children, but had a most disagreeable
way of showing her love. She kept a terribly tight rein over them, and
imbued them with her own prejudices and hatreds. Prince George's uncle,
"butcher George" of Cumberland, taking up a sabre once and drawing it
to amuse the child, the boy started and turned pale. The prince felt a
generous shock: "What must they have told him about me?" he asked. Very
touching, too, is the story of the little Duke of Gloucester (who in
after years distinguished himself with Lady Grosvenor). Seeing him silent
and unhappy, the princess sharply asked the cause of his silence: "I am
thinking," said the poor child. "Thinking, sir--of what?" "I am thinking,
if ever I have a son, I will not make him so unhappy as you make me."
And yet this woman, with her cold repellent way, adored her children, and
would have readily laid down her life for any one of them; but she forced
back her affection, lest the display of it might weaken her authority
over them. The examples of this maternal affection are so frequent in
Melcombe, that I may be pardoned for putting together a few extracts
which will throw a little pleasing light on a most calumniated woman:--
"_Oct. 9, 1752._--I received a letter from Mr. Cresset that her royal
highness would see me this morning. I got to Kew at half-past eleven. I
saw H.R.H. very soon; she, the Ladies Augusta, Elizabeth, and I, went
out and we walked without sitting down for more than three hours. We had
much talk upon all manner of private subjects, serious and ludicrous. Her
behaviour was open, friendly and unaffected. She commanded me to dine
and pass the evening with her. When we came in we met Lady Middlesex, who
had sent me word she was to be there. We walked in the afternoon till
dark. As we came in, she said she had a petition from the prince (of
Wales) that we would play at comet, of which he was very fond. The party
was the prince's--the Prince of Wales, Prince Edward; the Ladies Augusta
and Elizabeth, Lady Middlesex and Charlotte Edwin, and myself."
"_Oct. 15, 1752._--The princess having sent to desire me to pass the
day with her, I waited accordingly on her between eleven and twelve.
I saw her immediately; H.R.H., the children, and Lady Charlotte Edwin
went walking till two, and then returned to prayers, and from thence to
dinner. As soon as dinner was over, she sent for me, and we sat down to
comet. We rose from play about nine; the royal children retired, and the
princess called me to the farther end of the room. She began by saying
that she liked the prince should, now and then, amuse himself at small
play, but that princes should never play deep, both for the example, and
because it did not become them to win great sums."
I omit a long conversation in which the princess and Melcombe discussed
the ministry, and the king's conduct towards her; after which the courtly
scribe continues: "I then took the liberty to ask her what she thought
the real disposition of the prince to be? She said that I knew him
almost as well as she did; that he was very honest, but she wished that
he was a little more forward, and less childish at his age; that she
hoped his preceptors would improve him. I begged to know what methods
they took, what they read to him or made him read, and whether he showed
a particular inclination to any of the people about him. She said she did
not well know what they taught him, but, to speak freely, she was afraid
not much; that they were in the country and followed their diversion, and
not much else. She said, Stone told her that when he talked to the prince
upon those subjects (the government and constitution, the general course
and manner of business), he seemed to give a proper attention, and made
pertinent remarks. She repeated, he was a very honest boy, that his chief
passion seemed for his brother Edward.... She said the prince seemed to
have a very tender regard for the memory of his father, and that she
encouraged it as much as she could; that when they behaved wrongly, or
idly (as children will do), to any that belonged to the late prince,
and who are now about her, she always asked them how they thought their
father would have liked to see them behave so to anybody that belonged to
him, and whom they valued; and that they ought to have the more kindness
for them, because they had lost their friend and protector, who was
theirs also; and she said she found that it made a proper impression upon
them."
"_Dec. 5, 1752._--Lord Harcourt resigned being governor to the prince.
He offered to do so, unless Mr. Stone (placed as sub-governor by the
ministers), Mr. Scott, tutor in the late prince's time (but recommended
by Lord Bolingbroke), and Mr. Cresset, made treasurer by the princess's
recommendation, were removed. The king desired him to consider of it; but
Lord Harcourt continuing in the same resolution, the archbishop and lord
chancellor were sent to him to know the particulars of his complaints
against those gentlemen. He replied that the particulars were fit only
to be communicated to the king; and, accordingly, he waited on his
Majesty, which ended in his resignation. The Bishop of Norwich sent in
his resignation by the same prelate and lord."
Sagacious Horace Walpole, who compressed so much wit into a sheet of
ordinary post, had entertained his doubts about Lord Harcourt two years
before: writing to Sir H. Mann, on June 8, 1751, he says in his dry way,
"They have hooked in, too, poor Lord Harcourt, and call him _Harcourt the
wise_: (how Horace must have grinned as he italicised the last word;)
his wisdom has already disgusted the young prince: 'Sir, pray hold up
your head,' 'Sir, for God's sake, turn out your toes!' Such are Mentor's
precepts."
The storm in a puddle about Stone created an enormous sensation, and the
old cry of "wooden shoes and popery" rang through the land just as--well,
just as it does now-a-days, on any favourable occasion. The story is a
curious one, as told by Walpole, although Adolphus pooh-poohs it in a
very lordly way in his history of George III.
The young Prince of Wales, on the death of his father, was placed by
the king under the care of the Earl of Harcourt as governor; of Dr.
Hayter, Bishop of Norwich, as preceptor; and of Mr. Stone and Mr. Scott
as sub-governor and sub-preceptor. The two former were favourites of
Lord Lincoln, the ministerial nephew: Stone was the bosom-confidant
of the Duke of Newcastle: Scott, as well as the solicitor-general,
Murray, and Cresset, the favourite of the princess, were disciples of
Lord Bolingbroke, and his bequest to the late prince. Stone, in general
a cold, mysterious man, of little plausibility, had always confined
his arts, his application, and probably his views, to one or two great
objects. The princess could answer to all these lights; with her he
soon ingratiated himself deeply. Lord Harcourt was minute and strict
in trifles; and thinking that he discharged his trust conscientiously,
if on no account he neglected to make the prince turn out his toes, he
gave himself little trouble to respect the princess, or to condescend
to the sub-governor. The bishop, thinking himself already minister to
the future king, expected dependence from, and never once thought of
depending upon, the inferior governors. In the education of the two
princes he was sincerely honest and zealous, and soon grew to thwart the
princess whenever, as an indulgent, or perhaps a little as an ambitious
mother, (and this happened but too frequently,) she was willing to relax
the application of her sons. These jars appeared soon after the king's
going to Hanover; and by the season of his return they were ripe for his
interposition.
With these disappointments, the king returned to England, and arrived
at St. James's, November 18th. The princess appeared again in public,
and the king gave her the same honours and place as the queen used to
have. He was not in the same gracious mood with others of the court. The
calamity of Lord Holderness, the secretary of state, was singular; he
was for some days in disgrace, for having played at blindman's-buff in
the summer at Tunbridge. To Lord Harcourt the king said not a word. In
the beginning of December the chancellor and the archbishop sent to Lord
Harcourt that they would wait on him by the king's command. He prevented
them, and went to the chancellor, who told him that they had orders to
hear his complaints. He replied, "They were not proper to be told but
to the king himself," which did not make it a little suspicious, that
even the princess was included in his disgusts. The first incident that
had directly amounted to a quarrel was the Bishop of Norwich finding the
Prince of Wales reading Père d'Orleans's "Révolutions d'Angleterre," a
book professedly written by the direction, and even by the communication,
of James II., to justify his measures. Stone at first peremptorily denied
having seen that book in thirty years, and offered to rest his whole
justification upon the truth or falsehood of that accusation. At last
it was confessed that the prince had the book, but it was qualified with
Prince Edward's borrowing it of his sister Augusta. Stone acted mildness,
and professed being willing to continue to act with Lord Harcourt and
the bishop; but the sore had penetrated too deep, and they who had given
the wounds had aggravated them with harsh provocations. The bishop was
accused of having turned Scott one day out of the prince's chamber by an
imposition of hands that had at least as much of the flesh as the spirit
in the force of the action. Cresset, the link of the connection, had
dealt out very ungracious epithets both on the governor and preceptor;
and Murray, by an officious strain of strange impudence, had early in
the quarrel waited on the bishop, and informed him that Mr. Stone ought
to have more consideration in the prince's family; and repeating the
visit and opinion, the bishop said, "He believed that Mr. Stone found
all proper regard, but that Lord Harcourt, the chief of the trust, was
generally present." Murray interrupted him, and cried, "Lord Harcourt!
pho! he is a cypher, and must be a cypher, and was put in to be a
cypher." A notification, however understood before by the world, that
could not be very agreeable to the person destined to a situation so
insignificant! Accordingly, December 6th, Lord Harcourt had a private
audience in the king's closet, and resigned. The archbishop waited on
his Majesty, desiring to know if he would see the Bishop of Norwich, or
accept his resignation from his (the archbishop's) hands. The king chose
the latter.[11]
The poor princess was sadly perplexed by all this pother, and told
Melcombe that she knew nothing of it, and could not conceive what they
meant: but she added, after profound reflection, "indeed, the bishop was
teaching them logic, which, as she was told, was a very odd study for
children of their age, not to say of their condition." Perhaps, if Prince
George had paid more attention to the study, he would not have behaved so
illogically during the American war. However, it all blew over again, ere
long, and we find Lord Melcombe able to record:
"_1753, February 8._--I waited on the princess. She began at once by
saying she had good news to tell me; that they were very happy in their
family; that the new bishop gave great satisfaction; that he seemed to
take great care and in a proper manner; and that the children took to him
and seemed mightily pleased.
"I stick (the princess is speaking) to the learning as the chief point;
you know how backward they were when we were together, and I am sure you
don't think them much improved since. It may be that it is not too late
to acquire a competence, and that is what I am most solicitous about;
and if this man, by his manner, should hit upon the means of giving
them that, I shall be mightily pleased. The Bishop of Norwich was so
confused, that one could never tell what he meant, and the children were
not at all pleased with him. The stories about the history of the Père
d'Orleans were false; the only little dispute between the bishop and
Prince Edward, was about le Père Péréfixe's history of Henry IV."
One more extract, and we return Lord Melcombe to the limbo whence we drew
him.
"_1753, November 17._--The princess sent for me to attend her between
eight and nine o'clock. I went to Leicester House, expecting a small
company and a little music, but found nobody but her royal highness.
She made me draw a stool and sit by the fireside. Soon after came in
the Prince of Wales and Prince Edward, and then the Lady Augusta, all
in undress, and took their stools and sat round the fire with us. We
continued talking of familiar occurrences till between seven and eleven,
with the ease and unreservedness and unconstraint, as if one had dropped
into a sister's house, that had a family, to pass the evening. It is much
to be wished that the princess conversed familiarly with more people of
a certain knowledge of the world."
Bubb's closing remark may be truly endorsed. Though Dr. Thomas, Bishop
of Peterboro', the new preceptor to the Prince of Wales, was a very
excellent man, and gave great satisfaction to the princess, from the
extraordinary care and proper manner manifested in his conduct, and
though the royal children loved him, and were much pleased with his
instruction,--for all that I do not think him the right man in the right
place. Granted that the course of education became of the most beneficial
kind, and that the public were fully satisfied that the prince, instead
of being separated from his remaining parent, should be especially under
her care, whilst he received his elementary initiation into literature
and politics, still, the result was a faulty one, as a competent writer
on the subject allows.[12]
In the plan, however, of keeping the prince exempt from the vices of
the age, there was, perhaps, too much and unnecessary strictness; as it
went so far as even to restrain him, with a few exceptions, from all
intercourse with the young nobility, confining his knowledge of the
world to books and the social circle at Leicester House, which, though
select and cheerful as well as unrestrained, was not adapted to give
that manliness of character necessary for a monarch, and might have been
productive of much evil, had not the prince's own natural resolution,
since denominated obstinacy, preserved him from acquiring that milkiness
of character which might have been expected.
Little did people think at the time how bitterly a fair-haired cherub,
then playing about the gardens of Carlton House, would suffer from the
want of knowledge of the world in which her brother was being brought up.
In this rambling chapter, the slightest allusion to the family of
Caroline Matilda must be forgiven, and the following passage is solely
inserted to prove the thoughtfulness of the Princess of Wales for the
poor, and as a fair ground for assuming that _qualis mater, talis filia_.
"Another instance of the attention paid by the Princess Dowager to the
encouragement of native industry, and to the finding employment for
females, was manifested on the Princess Augusta's birthday, when she
herself, with all the princesses, appeared in curious hats of fine thread
needlework on book muslin, in hopes of bringing them into fashion, as
it would employ a great number of poor girls, making useful subjects of
those who would otherwise be burdensome to the public, or exposed to all
the horrors of vice and penury."[13]
I hesitated for a long time ere I made up my mind to quote Walpole's
account of the Prince of Wales attaining his majority, for it contains
many scandalous insinuations against his mother, for which there is not
a particle of evidence. I have, however, decided on giving it room, not
only because it throws some light on family affairs, but also because I
have such faith in the character of the princess that I believe it can
defy even worse attacks. Having a special object in view in giving these
details, which will not be visible for some time hence, I throw down the
glove to the goddess of scandal and her arch-priest, Horace Walpole, and
let them say their worst.
"The Prince of Wales attained the age prescribed for his majority on June
4, by which the Regency Bill remains only a dangerous precedent of power
to posterity--no longer so to us, for whose subjection it was artfully,
though, by the grace of God, vainly calculated. This epoch, however,
brought to light the secrets of a court, where, hitherto, everything
had been transacted with mysterious decency. The princess had conducted
herself with great respect to the king, with appearance of impartiality
to ministers and factions. If she was not cordial to the duke (of
Cumberland), or was averse to his friends, it had been imputed less
to any hatred adopted from her husband's prejudices, than to jealousy
of the government of her son; if the world should choose to ascribe
her attention for him to maternal affection, they were at liberty; she
courted and watched him neither more nor less for their conjectures. It
now at last appeared that maternal tenderness or ambition were not the
sole passions that engrossed her thoughts. It had already been whispered
that the assiduity of Lord Bute at Leicester House, and his still more
frequent attendance in the gardens at Kew and Carlton House, were less
addressed to the Prince of Wales than to his mother. The eagerness of
the pages of the back-stairs to let her know whenever Lord Bute arrived
[and some other symptoms] contributed to dispel the ideas that had been
conceived of the rigour of her widowhood. On the other hand, the favoured
personage, naturally ostentatious of his person, and of haughty carriage,
seemed by no means desirous of concealing his conquest. His bows grew
more theatric, his graces contracted some meaning, and the beauty of his
leg was constantly displayed in the eyes of the poor captivated princess.
Indeed, the nice observers of the court-thermometer, who often foresee a
change of weather before it actually happens, had long thought that her
royal highness was likely to choose younger ministers than that formal
piece of empty mystery, Cresset, or the matron-like decorum of Sir George
Lee.... Her simple husband, when he took up the character of the regent's
gallantry, had forced an air of intrigue even upon his wife. When he
affected to retire into gloomy _allées_ with Lady Middlesex, he used to
bid the princess walk with Lord Bute. As soon as the prince was dead,
they walked more and more, in honour of his memory.[14]
"The favour of Lord Bute was scarce sooner known than the connections of
Pitt and Legge with him. The mystery of Pitt's breach with Fox was at
once unravelled--and a court secret of that nature was not likely long to
escape the penetration of Legge, who wormed himself into every intrigue
where his industry and subservience could recommend him--yet Legge had
not more application to power than Newcastle jealousy of it. Such an
entrenchment round the successor alarmed him. It was determined in his
little council that the moment the Prince of Wales should be of age, he
should be taken from his mother; but the secret evaporating, intimations
by various channels were conveyed to the Duke of Newcastle and to the
chancellor, how much the prince would resent any such advice being given
to the king, and that it would not be easy to carry it into execution.
The prince lived shut up with his mother and Lord Bute, and must have
thrown them under some difficulties; their connection was not easily
reconcilable to the devotion which they had infused into the prince; the
princess could not wish him always present, and yet dreaded his being out
of her sight. His brother Edward, who received a thousand mortifications,
was seldom suffered to be with him; and Lady Augusta, now a woman, was,
to facilitate some privacy for the princess, dismissed from supping
with her mother, and sent back to cheese-cakes, with her little sister
Elizabeth, on pretence that meat at night would fatten her too much.
"The ministers, too apt to yield when in the right, were now obstinate
in the wrong place, and without knowing how to draw the king out of the
difficulty into which they were pushing him, advised this extraordinary
step. On May 31st, Lord Waldegrave, as the last act of his office of
governor, was sent with letters of the same tenor to the prince and
to his mother, to acquaint them that the prince being now of age, the
king, who had ever shown the greatest kindness and affection for him,
had determined to give him £40,000 a-year, would settle an establishment
for him, of the particulars of which he should be informed, and that his
Majesty had ordered the apartments of the late prince at Kensington, and
of the queen at St. James's, to be fitted up for him; that the king would
take Prince Edward too, and give him an allowance of £5,000 a-year.
"After a little consult in their small cabinet, both prince and princess
sent answers in writing, drawn up, as was believed, by Legge, and so
artfully worded, that the supposition was probable. The prince described
himself as penetrated by the goodness of his Majesty, and receiving with
the greatest gratitude what his Majesty, in his parental affection, was
pleased to settle on him; but he entreated his Majesty not to divide him
from his mother, which would be a most sensible affliction to both. The
answer of the princess remarked, that she had observed, with the greatest
satisfaction, the impression which his Majesty's _consideration_ of the
prince had made on him; and she expressed much sensibility of all the
king's kindness to her. On the article of the separation, she said not a
word."[15]
In the course of my studies, I have naturally gone as deeply as I could
into this question of the alleged liaison between the princess and Lord
Bute, and believe I have traced it to its real source. On one occasion,
Miss Chudleigh appeared at a fancy ball, dressed as Iphigenia waiting for
the sacrifice, and so décolletée that an eye-witness declared that she
wished to display her entrails to the sacrificing priest. The princess
mildly rebuked her for her licentiousness; and the maid of honour
flippantly replied, "Altesse, vous savez, chacun à son bût." The retort
was clever, if impertinent, and spread like wildfire. Miss Chudleigh's
last good thing was quoted, and, from this moment, I firmly believe, a
hitherto floating charge became anchored. That the couple intrigued, I
am willing to admit, but it was a political intrigue; a woman, who has
escaped from a profligate husband, to whom she has borne nine children,
does not so easily place herself in another man's power. Bute was poor;
the princess was ambitious; they had the future king of England in their
hands, and meant to keep him. Bute, mayhap, for ulterior purposes of
his own, but the mother most certainly, because she did not believe
her son capable of walking alone. Up to the day of her death, she held
unbounded sway over the king; but, in no one instance, did she exert
it to benefit a favourite; while in the choice of her own household,
she was actuated solely by merit. Poor woman! she had but few pleasures
in this world; she did her duty honestly, as she thought, and most
certainly set an example to mothers by the way in which she brought up
her children. The only reward she has received from posterity has been
at the most a flippant sneer at her narrow-mindedness; but too often a
hasty condemnation as a widow who sought consolation in the arms of her
husband's friend.
Politest of epistolary Horaces, of the many sins you have to answer for,
the worst is surely your deliberate attempt to blacken the character of
an unoffending woman, who tried to do her duty according to her lights,
and to whose fostering care we at any rate owed one George, who stands
out as a shining and burning example among the four who bore the name.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 1: Wraxall's "Historical Memoirs," vol. ii. p. 46, &c.]
[Footnote 2: Or Britain, as the king originally wrote it.]
[Footnote 3: How admirably "Lord Fanny" hits this off, when he says,
in his "Memoirs of George II.:" "The king, talking of the people who
had governed this country in other times, said: 'King Charles, by his
mistresses; King James, by his priests; King William, by his men; and
Queen Anne, by her women--favourites. His father, he added, had been by
anybody who could get at him.' And at the end of this catalogue the heir
of Dettingen asks: 'And who do they say governs us now?' Sporus answers
the question to himself and his own satisfaction, by quoting four lines
from a current lampoon, which are handed down to posterity, and smash the
small king's prestige:--
"You may strut, dapper George, but 'twill all be in vain,
You govern no more than Don Philip of Spain;
Then, if you would have us fall down and adore you,
Lock up your fat wife, as your dad did before you."
]
[Footnote 4: At the time when the "Historical Memoirs" were published,
the critics fell foul of the king's remark, and denied its authenticity.
But, I possess the letter in which Lord G. Sackville stated it. So
the invention, be it one, rests with that nobleman, and not with my
grandfather.]
[Footnote 5: "Walpole's Letters," vol. ii, p. 248.]
[Footnote 6: For this word I am indebted to Miss Prudence B--r--h--d, in
"The New Bath Guide:"
Brother Sim has turned a rake-hell;
Balls and parties every day.
Jenny laughs at tabernacle.
Tabby Runt has gone astray.
Since writing this, however, it has occurred to me that Mr. Anstey may
have merely invented the word for the sake of the rhyme.]
[Footnote 7: Proof that my statements are not too strong, will be found
in the following works:--Letters of Lady M. W. Montagu; Junius; Gibbon's
Miscellaneous Works and Memoirs; Walpole's Memoirs and Letters to Sir H.
Mann; Burke's Anecdotes of the Aristocracy; Wraxall's Historical Memoirs;
and a very curious German work, recently published, Chrysander's Händel,
vol. ii.]
[Footnote 8: For convenience of reference, I will give here, once for
all, a list of the children, as I shall have to allude to some of them
pretty frequently in the course of my narrative. The list is taken from
the "Gentleman's Magazine," 1772:--
1. Augusta, born July 31, 1737, O.S.; married to the Hereditary Prince of
Brunswick.
2. GEORGE, born May 24, 1738, O.S.; king of Great Britain.
3. Edward, Duke of York, born March 14, 1739; died Sept. 7, 1767, at
Monaco.
4. Elizabeth, born Dec. 30, 1740; died Sept. 4, 1759.
5. William, Duke of Gloucester, born Nov. 14, 1743.
6. Henry, Duke of Cumberland, born Oct. 27, 1745; married in Oct., 1771,
to Mrs. Horton, widow, daughter of Lord Irnham, and sister to Col.
Luttrell.
7. Louisa, born March 8, 1748; died an infant.
8. Frederick, born May 13, 1750; died Dec. 29, 1765.
9. Caroline, born July 11, 1751; married Nov. 8, 1766, to Christian VII.,
King of Denmark.]
[Footnote 9: "Walpole's Letters," vol. ii., p. 248.]
[Footnote 10: "George III., his Court, and Family," vol. iii., p. 134.]
[Footnote 11: "Memoirs of the Last Ten Years of the Reign of George II."
By Horace Walpole. Vol. i. pp. 247-254.]
[Footnote 12: "George III., his Court and Family," vol. i. pp. 142-3.]
[Footnote 13: "George III., his Court and Family," vol. i. p. 172.]
[Footnote 14: How this remark reminds us of the lines in the _New Bath
Guide_:--
"But Stephen, no sighing, no tears could recall,
So she hallowed the seventh, and went to the ball."
]
[Footnote 15: "Last Ten Years of the Reign of George II." By Horace
Walpole. Vol. ii. pp. 47-50.]