City banquet to the Duke of Wellington -- Costly vegetables --
The Princess Charlotte -- Squabbles about her presentation at
Court -- The Regent hooted -- The Princess Charlotte and the
Prince of Orange -- Her future husband, Prince Leopold -- Her
flight from Warwick House, and return.
I still must chronicle feasting and rejoicing. This time it is
the City of London who honoured the national Hero, the Duke of
Wellington, with a banquet. Some may grumble at this way of doing
honour to merit, but, after all, it is but one mode of public
recognition. The Government cannot spend the public money on such
matters. Private acknowledgment would be worthless, so the City
of London always throws itself, so to speak, into the breach, and
bridges over a chasm most gracefully. Their hospitality hurts no one,
as it comes from their own funds, and it supplies a national want,
and as such, is recognized as an honour done by the nation. So a
feast was made, on the 9th of July, to welcome home the Conqueror of
Napoleon. Nationally, the Duke was well rewarded, both with titles
and money, but the graceful act of a public reception was wanting as
a crown.
The preparations were as magnificent as if for the Allied Sovereigns,
but the feast had this difference--the Lord Mayor was the real Host.
In the former he was subsidiary, the Regent, of course, being the
central star. This was a National welcome, and, if there were not
so many High Mightinesses present, it was none the less hearty. It
is of no use wearying my readers with details of the festivity,
but I wish to point out what was typical of the age in dining. It
is not so long ago that "nous avons changé tout cela." I, and very
many of my readers, recollect the time when "the board" literally
"groaned" under the provisions laid upon it, and which _heu mihi!_
we were expected to carve, if placed before us. It was profusion,
meant to honour your guests, but still unnecessary, and now, would
be repulsive. But why? oh! why? was there, at this feast, placed on
a side table "a large Baron of Beef, and near it a beautiful blue
and white China jug, which will hold twenty-three gallons of stout,
on the top of which (?) will be displayed the Union Flag?" One thing
may be said in its defence, and it is a fact not generally known,
that, after a Civic banquet, all the food that is left, is given to
deserving poor families, who thus benefit by the festivities of
their richer brethren. I believe this also obtains with the banquets
of some of the City Companies.
Prior to the dinner, the Duke was presented with the Freedom of the
City (an honour which any one under the rank of a monarch does not
despise) in a gold box, and a splendid sword. Most of the Royal
Dukes, and all the Cabinet Ministers, together with large numbers of
the Nobility, were present. There was a gruesome long list of toasts,
among which was "the Ladies," proposed by the Duke of Wellington.
Poor man! he little thought what his gallantry would cost him, or
perhaps, even he, the dauntless, might have quailed before what
he had to undergo, with the exception of the last sentence, which
probably served as the gilt to the pill. "Towards the close of the
evening, a temporary staircase was opened from the galleries, into
the body of the Hall, by which the Ladies descended, and passed round
the hustings, and every one had the honour of shaking hands with the
Immortal Hero, and the Royal Dukes, _and some of the younger ones
were saluted by his Grace_." We afterwards learn that "nearly Seven
Hundred Ladies were in the Galleries."
_Apropos_ of what I wrote about dining, at this period, hear
Captain Gronow, when writing on the same theme: "Even in the best
houses, when I was a young man, the dinners were wonderfully solid,
hot, and stimulating. The _menu_ of a grand dinner was thus
composed:--Mulligatawny and Turtle Soups were the first dishes placed
before you; a little lower, the eye met with the familiar salmon
at one end of the table, and the turbot, surrounded by smelts, at
the other. The first course was sure to be followed by a saddle of
mutton, or a piece of roast beef; and then you could take your oath
that fowls, tongue and ham, would as assuredly succeed, as darkness
after day.
"Whilst these never-ending _pièces de résistance_ were occupying the
table, what were called French Dishes were, for custom's sake, added
to the solid abundance. The French, or side dishes, consisted of very
mild, but very abortive, attempts at Continental cooking, and I have
always observed that they met with the neglect and contempt they
merited. The universally adored, and ever popular potato, produced at
the very earliest period of the dinner, and eaten with everything, up
to the moment when sweets appeared. Our Vegetables, the best in the
world, were never honoured by an accompanying sauce, and, generally,
came to the table cold. A prime difficulty to overcome, was the
placing on your fork, and, finally in your mouth, some half dozen
different eatables which occupied your plate at the same time. For
example, your plate would contain, say, a slice of Turkey, a piece
of stuffing, a sausage, pickles, a slice of tongue, cauliflower and
potatoes. According to habit and custom, a judicious and careful
selection from this little bazaar of good things was to be made,
with an endeavour to place a portion of each in your mouth at the
same moment. In fact, it appeared to me that we used to do all our
compound Cookery between our jaws.
"The dessert--generally ordered at Messrs. Grange's, or at Owen's,
in Bond Street--if for a dozen people, would cost, at least as many
pounds. The wines were chiefly port, sherry, and hock; claret, and
even Burgundy, being then designated as 'poor, thin, washy stuff.'
A perpetual thirst seemed to come over people, both men and women,
as soon as they had tasted their soup; as from that moment everybody
was taking wine with everybody else, till the close of the dinner;
and such wine as produced that class of Cordiality which frequently
wanders into stupefaction. How all this sort of eating and drinking
ended was obvious, from the prevalence of gout, and the necessity of
every one making the pill-box their constant bedroom companion."
It must have been costly, too, to have then acted as Lucullus; for
those were not the days when steam annihilated distance, and brought
tropical fruits to our doors, and when any vegetable could be grown,
at any time, by means of electric light, and never allowing the
plants any rest or sleep. Then, at all events, rarities in vegetables
fetched a price, such as we should not now dream of paying. _Vide_
the following: "It is a standing order in the wealthy Company of
Grocers to have plenty of green pease at their dinner, when they
do not exceed the price of _four guineas a quart_; this year, from
the unfavourableness of the season, they were not to be obtained
under the price of six guineas; and, in consequence, the members
were obliged so far to _narrow_ their indulgence, as to put up with
turtle, turbot, venison, house lamb, turkey poults, asparagus, and
French beans."
This year of 1814 must, I am afraid, be given up to the high and
mighty ones of this portion of the world, for it was, as I have said,
an _annus mirabilis_, and ordinary people were, so to speak, nowhere.
Now it is the Regent's daughter. She came of age--she wanted a
household of her own; she wanted unrestricted intercourse with her
mother--and she wanted a husband.
She had no love for her father; what child could have any filial
affection for a father who cared nothing for his daughter? She was
forbidden to see her mother, and consequently longed for her. She was
legally of age, and still was treated as a child.
The episode in her life, I am about to relate, is curious, and I
have endeavoured to take the most temperate authorities on the
subject, so that, whilst being contemporaneous, they are, as far as
one can judge, historically unbiassed. She could have had no love
for her father, for his failings were of public notoriety, and he
never lavished any of his affection upon her. Her mother, too--badly
brought up in a petty German Court, where licence was familiar--had,
certainly, been indiscreet. Her Peers absolved her from anything
worse than indiscretion, and I, who have studied her life, and
written it (not as it appears in the "Dictionary of National
Biography," for, there, it has been maimed, editorially), thoroughly
endorse their verdict.
Of course, her public life began on her attaining her 18th year,
when she legally became of age. Her mother wished, very naturally,
to present her to the Queen, as launching her in life; but the Queen
had a son, the father of Mademoiselle, who was not on good terms with
his wife; and, although mother and son were not the best possible
friends, still the probability is, that grandmamma thought that papa
was best judge of his daughter's welfare, and therefore backed up the
stern parent. _Ergo_, Mamma was nowhere, and went abroad, having an
increased allowance, which she would not touch.
The _imprimatur_ of a young lady's life, in Court circles, is,
naturally, her presentation at Court; with men, it differs. I
recollect a tailor, in Fenchurch Street, being presented--the Lord
knows why, probably because he made the clothes for the Lord Mayor's
footmen. But this case was different--this was the heiress to the
throne--a _personnage_, of whom there could be no doubt. Her mother
was not a _persona gratissima_ at Court; and although she used to
spend somewhat dreary days with Grandmamma Charlotte, and her Aunts
at Windsor, she had not yet been presented legally, nor had she yet
achieved the other grand step in her young life, and natural ambition
of her sex, that of obtaining a husband.
She got a godmother, for her presentation, in the shape of the good
fairy, the Duchess of Oldenburgh. I have not been able to unravel
what this lady's mission was, but I know that both she and her
brother backed up the suit of the Prince of Orange as husband to the
coming Queen of England.
This Drawing Room took place on June 2nd, and the Princess started
for the first time as "the Daughter of England," and went, in
more than Cinderella state, in an elegant State Carriage--all her
own--with splendid hammer Cloth of Scarlet and Gold, with the
Royal Arms, and Union Wreath richly embroidered in the centre on
White Satin. New harness of black leather and raised brass; three
footmen, and a brand new coachman, all in brand new liveries. For
the first time in her life she was somebody; for, let alone all this
magnificence, she was assisted into her carriage by her would-be
_fiancé_, the Prince of Orange.
According to the "Court Circular" of the time, the Duchess of
Oldenburgh must have been exceeding magnifical, and more than
rivalled the famous creature, "the _Prox_," two of whom came over in
three ships; for I read, "The Duchess of Oldenburgh went in State in
three of the Prince Regent's Carriages."[24]
[Footnote 24: At the moment of her entrance into what is
now Buckingham Palace--then the _Queen's House_--the first
gun was fired, announcing the signature of the Definitive
Treaty of Peace.]
It was, specially, on this occasion the Prince Regent was hissed,
as politely hinted at in the account of the Allied Sovereigns'
Reception (see p. 262). I do not say that His Royal Highness did not
care to face the Populace on this latter occasion; it was thought so
generally, and the Satirical prints, so often misnamed _Caricatures_,
were _de bon accord_. These prints filled the part of our so-called
Comic papers. There was no _Punch_, or the innumerable host of its
followers now existing; and, what is more universally taken as
good-humoured _badinage_, was just the same then, only the sense of
humour was different. It is, perhaps, a little coarse to our taste,
but then our grandfathers had not the advantage of the artistic
education of a School Board, and they acted on such lights as were
vouchsafed to them.
His conduct to his wife, at this time, rendered him very unpopular,
and, in those days, people were accustomed to express their
satisfaction, or the reverse, with either a Prince or an Actor.
Nowadays, goodness only knows what might happen were popular opinion
so expressed. Luckily, our Princes are too good men to have a shadow
of unpopularity; and, as to Actors--well--it might end in an action
for libel, or, slugs in a saw-pit.
I give a plain, and unadorned, version of the reception of the
Regent, on this occasion, as reported in a paper, certainly not
unfriendly to him. "Pall Mall and St. James's Street were kept
perfectly clear for carriages to enter the Park, by the Stable Yard.
The Prince Regent, with his superb retinue, passed along Pall Mall
without interruption; but his carriage no sooner entered the Park,
than the multitudes assembled there recognized his Royal Highness,
and he was annoyed by the most dismal yells, groans and hisses, which
continued the whole way from the Stable Yard to the Queen's House.
The horses were put to their full speed to carry his Royal Highness
through this ungracious scene. A very different welcome was given to
the Military Heroes on their way to the Palace. It was with extreme
difficulty that Lord Hill, Lord Combermere, and Lord Beresford were
permitted to pass on in their Carriages, as the people wanted to take
out the horses, and yoke themselves to the harness."
[Illustration: Miss Endeavouring to Excite a Glow with Her Dutch
Plaything.
(_Published July 1, 1814, by Fores._)]
Launched into life, she became more independent. Papa had provided a
husband for her, but we all know the old proverb, that "You may take
a horse to the water, but you can't make him drink." She did not
like the Prince of Orange, and, as any excuse is better than none,
she made use of the fact that her husband _in posse_ wanted to take
her to Holland, if only for a fortnight, in order to show her the
Country, and present her to his people. This she refused utterly to
do, and the breach between them, which had been widening gradually,
became complete. He had been treated with but scant courtesy, during
the visit of the Allied Sovereigns, so much so, that it was commented
upon. One exemplar will suffice.
"The Hereditary Prince of Orange, who was announced as the intended
husband of our Princess Charlotte, and, consequently, as the Consort
of our future Queen, has not been treated with much ceremony, while
the other Illustrious Foreigners had State Carriages and Royal
liveries, the Prince was suffered to shift for himself, and to find a
lodging at the house of his _Tailor_."
In fact, she would not have him, and Papa did not like it. Naturally,
the Satirists of the time got hold of their estrangement, and
improved the occasion. I reproduce one print, "Miss endeavouring to
excite a Glow with her DUTCH Plaything." The Princess says to her
father, "There! I have kept it up a long while; you may send it away
now, I am tired of it. Mother has got some better play-things for
me." The Regent replies, "What! are you tired already? Take another
spell at it, or give me the whip." To which the Princess answers,
"No, no! You may take the Top, but I'll keep the whip."
There was another, "The Dutch Toy." The Princess is represented as
whipping a Top, with the letters P. O. painted on it, saying, "Take
this for Ma! and this for Pa! and this! and this! for myself, you
ugly thing, you." Through an open door the Regent's arm is seen,
carrying a portentous birch rod; and he warns her that if she does
not find pleasure in whipping the Top, he will exercise his paternal
authority with the instrument which he bears. There are others, but
they are hardly worth repeating.
She had met with her fate. We all know that there is in a woman's
life but one "Prince Charming." Sometimes he never comes, but, as
a rule, he does. Well! here was a case. That fairy Godmother, the
Duchess of Oldenburgh, living at her Pulteney Hotel, could, of
course, entertain any guests she liked; and one morning, Prince
Leopold of Saxe-Coburg, whilst paying a visit to the Duchess, met
with the Princess Charlotte. People have given up thinking of how
marriages are made, and put the onus on a Higher Power, and say they
are made in Heaven. She met her _kismet_, and, as far as is publicly
known, her brief life was spent happily. England, as a nation,
ought to be very thankful for this union, for it gave our most
gracious Queen Victoria one of the wisest and kindest Counsellors
possible--King Leopold of Belgium. There must be many, besides
myself, who read these pages, who recollect the kindly gentleman who
used to come over here, just as if he was going to pay a call in the
next street, without any fuss, and to whom one would regret the not
paying the ordinary courteous form of recognition, because he was so
unostentatious. The History of Europe knows the effect of his quiet
counsel.
[Illustration: The Devonshire Minuet.
(_Published May 29, 1813, by Wm. Holland._)]
But who would recognize him in the accompanying illustration? _Ay de
mi!_ He and the Princess Charlotte danced that Minuet, and are no
more; but, for the time being, they were a handsome, graceful couple.
The Orange affair fell through; and, as far as I am concerned, who
only have to deal with what people talked about in England at that
time, there is an end of it. But something, or somebody, irritated
Papa, and he resolved that Mademoiselle's independence must be
curtailed, and that in future she must live--well, not exactly with
him, but under his roof, at Carlton House. I have read all I know
that there is to be read on the subject, and I prefer letting one of
the parties tell the tale. It, and much more, can be found in "The
Autobiography of Miss Cornelia Knight, Lady Companion to the Princess
Charlotte of Wales" (2 vols. London, 1861).
"About this time the Bishop,[25] who often saw the Chancellor, and
Lord Liverpool, and was, also, I believe, employed by the Regent,
who, formerly, disliked and despised him, hinted to Princess
Charlotte, in a private conversation, and to me, _on paper_--as I
wrote to him on the subject--that, unless Princess Charlotte would
write a submissive letter to her father, and hold out a hope that
in a few months she might be induced to give her hand to the Prince
of Orange, arrangements would be made, by no means agreeable to
her inclinations. Her Royal Highness wrote to the Regent a most
submissive and affectionate letter, but held out no hope of renewing
the treaty of marriage.
[Footnote 25: Of Salisbury.]
"This letter was sent on Saturday, the 9th of July. We heard various
reports of the intentions of the Regent: it was said that I, and
the servants, were to be dismissed, and that an apartment was being
fitted up for the Princess Charlotte at Carlton House. Prince Leopold
of Saxe-Coburg, a handsome young man, a General in the Russian
Service, brother-in-law to the Grand Duke Constantine, and a great
favourite with the Emperor of Russia, told Miss Mercer Elphinstone
many of these particulars. He had been once at Warwick House, the
Duchess of Leeds and myself being present. Miss Mercer Elphinstone,
who was intimately acquainted with him, came in while he was there.
He paid many compliments to Princess Charlotte, who was by no means
partial to him, and only received him with civility. However, Miss
Mercer evidently wished to recommend him; and when we drove in the
Park, he would ride near the carriage, and endeavour to be noticed.
There were reasons why this matter was by no means agreeable to
Princess Charlotte. However, he certainly made proposals to the
Regent, and, though rejected, found means to get into his favour.
"In the mean while, it was reported that he was frequently at Warwick
House, and had even taken tea with us, which not one of the princes
had done, except Prince Radzivil, whom we invited to sing, and
accompany himself on the guitar. We heard that Lady Ilchester and
Lady Rosslyn were talked of as being about Princess Charlotte, and I
had hints from some of my friends, particularly from Lady Rolle, that
a change was about to take place.
"However, the letter of the 9th remained unanswered till the 11th,
on which day the Bishop was detained almost the whole morning at
Carlton House, and, at five, Princess Charlotte and I were ordered
to go over. Her Royal Highness was too ill to obey; but I went, and
found the Regent very cold, very bitter, and very silent. I, however,
took the opportunity of contradicting any false reports he might
have heard relative to the Prince of Saxe-Coburg, and he answered
that this Prince was a most honourable young man, and had written
him a letter which perfectly justified himself, and said that he was
invited by Princess Charlotte; but that it was Prince Augustus of
Prussia, and not he, who was in the habit of going to Warwick House.
I justified Prince Augustus, as he well deserved; and apologized for
Princess Charlotte's not coming over to Carlton House. The Prince
said she must either come the next day, or Baillie must come to say
she was not capable of walking over.
"Next day, Baillie said she was quite capable of going over, and
advised her so to do; but she was really so ill, and so much
affected, that it was impossible. Her Royal Highness, therefore,
wrote to the Regent, entreating he would come to her. The Duchess
of Leeds, who, unfortunately, had been ordered to send in her
resignation some time before, but still came as usual to Warwick
House, called that morning, but I could not persuade her to stay till
the Prince's arrival, as she said he might think it improper her
being there.
"About six, he came, attended by the Bishop, only, (as I supposed);
but he came up alone, and desired I would leave him with the Princess
Charlotte. He was shut up with her three quarters of an hour, and,
afterwards, a quarter more with the Bishop, and her Royal Highness.
The door then opened, and she came out in the greatest agony, saying
she had but one instant to speak to me, for that the Prince asked for
me. I followed her into her dressing-room, where she told me the new
ladies were in possession of the house; that I, and all the servants,
were to be dismissed; that she was to be confined at Carlton House
for five days, after which she was to be taken to Cranbourne Lodge,
in the midst of Windsor Forest, where she was to see no one but the
Queen, once a week; and that if she did not go immediately, the
Prince would sleep at Warwick House that night, as well as all the
ladies. I begged her to be calm, and advised her to go over, as soon
as possible, assuring her that her friends would not forget her.
She fell upon her knees in the greatest agitation, exclaiming, 'God
Almighty, grant me patience!' I wished to stay and comfort her, but
she urged me to go to the Prince, for fear of greater displeasure.
"I went to him, and he shut the door; the Bishop was with him. He
told me he was sorry to put a lady to inconvenience, but that he
wanted my room that evening for the ladies, repeating what Princess
Charlotte had already told me. I asked in what I had offended, but
he said he made no complaint, and would make none; that he had a
right to make any changes he pleased, and that he was blamed for
having let things go on as they had done. He repeated his apology for
putting a lady to the inconvenience of leaving the house at so short
a notice; and I replied that, my father having served His Majesty for
fifty years, and sacrificed his health and fortune to that service,
it would be very strange if I could not put myself to the temporary
inconvenience of a few hours. He then said that in the arrangements
at Carlton House there was a room which I might have for a night
or two, if I had nowhere to go. This I declined, thanking him, but
saying I had lodgings, which, fortunately, were now vacant; and that
Lord and Lady Rolle, who seemed to know much more of the business
than I did, had, to my surprise, offered me their house, for the last
fortnight. I then made a low courtesy to him, and left the room."
[Illustration: The R----t Kicking up a Row; or, Warwick House in an
Uproar!!!
(_G. Cruikshank fec._)]
This, and what occurred afterwards, formed the topic of conversation
for the time; and, of the Comic Prints, which naturally followed,
the accompanying one, by George Cruikshank, is the most amusing. It
is called, "The R----t kicking up a Row; or, Warwick House in an
Uproar!!!" The Regent, addressing Miss Knight and the Princess's
ladies, says, "Get out! get out! you faggots! Get out of the House,
I say. Zounds! I've burst my stays. What! what! you'll let her see
her mother, will you?!!! Oh! you Jades! But I'll soon put a stop to
that--I'll lock the young baggage up, that's what I will; and I'll
kick you to the Devil, and that's what I will. So turn out! turn out!
out! out! and be d----d to you all."
[Illustration: Plebeian Spirit, or Coachee and the Heir Presumptive.
(_July 25, 1814._)]
The Princess is seen running away to her mother, crying out, "Oh,
mamma! mamma! Pappe's going to whip me. Oh! oh! oh!!" The Bishop of
Salisbury is in the background looking on. The Bishop is aghast, and
says, "Dash my wig, here's a pretty kick up!!!" John Bull is looking
in at a window, wondering "What the Devil is he about, now?"
Directly after the interview with the Princess, described by Miss
Knight, the former left Warwick House, and hailing a hackney coach in
Cockspur Street, ordered the coachman to drive to Connaught House,
at the corner of the Bayswater and Edgware Roads, her mother's
residence. We get a graphic view of this in an illustration called
"PLEBEIAN SPIRIT; or Coachee and the Heir Presumptive." The Princess,
who, to judge by the size of the coin she is tendering, is paying
lavishly,[26] says, _les larmes aux yeux_, "Coachman, will you
protect me?" to which the gallant Jehu, hand on heart, replies, "Yes,
your Highness, to the last drop of my blood." I have not given the
background, for it is too painful. Britannia and the British Lion
appear, and _both_ are weeping, the Lion very copiously.
[Footnote 26: According to _The Morning Chronicle_ of July
15th she gave him three guineas.]
Mamma was not at home, but was sent for, and met on the road from
Blackheath. The news somewhat upset her, but she adopted the very
sensible plan of seeking advice from her friends, Mr. Whitbread and
Earl Grey; but, neither being at home, she drove to Connaught House,
and Mr. Brougham was sent for. Meantime Papa did not know what to
do, so he sent for his Ministers, and consulted with them; and,
so grave was the occasion, that a Council was held at the Foreign
Office, and also at Carlton House. In fact, to judge properly of the
unprecedented gravity of the situation, I need only mention that
when the Queen heard of it, _she immediately left a Card party she
was holding_. A National Revolution could hardly have had a greater
effect.
Then remonstrance was tried with this wicked, rebellious girl, and
first was sent my lord the Bishop of Salisbury, followed by the
Duke of York, who seems to have had _carte blanche_ to promise
anything; there was the Lord Chancellor, Lord Ellenborough, Adam,
the Chancellor of the Duchy of Cornwall, and yet more, all come
to see what they could do with this awful young lady, who had
given her papa's nerves such a rude shaking. Her kind uncle, the
Duke of Sussex, she would see, because he came independently, and,
afterwards, asked pertinent questions in her behalf in the House of
Lords.
Let Lord Brougham, who had so much to do with this interview,
describe it: "After dinner I first begged the Princess Charlotte to
give me a full account of what had caused her flight. She said she
could not bear any longer the treatment she met with in changing her
ladies without her consent, and of interrupting her intercourse with
her mother and Margaret (meaning Miss Mercer[27]), her most intimate
friend; and that it was her fixed resolution, after throwing herself
on her mother's protection, to reside with her entirely. But she
dwelt much upon the match; and, although I repeated what I had often
assured her of, that without her consent freely given, it never could
take place, she said, 'They may wear me out by ill-treatment, and may
represent that I have changed my mind and consented.'
[Footnote 27: Afterwards Lady Keith, and wife of Count
Flahault.]
"We then conversed upon the subject with the others, and, after a
long discussion on that and her lesser grievances, she took me aside,
and asked me what, upon the whole, I advised her to do. I said at
once, 'Return to Warwick House, or Carlton House, and on no account
to pass a night out of her own house.' She was extremely affected,
and cried, asking if I too refused to stand by her. I said, quite
the contrary; and that as to the marriage, I gave no opinion, except
that she must follow her own inclination entirely, but that her
returning home was absolutely necessary; and in this all the rest
fully agreed--her mother, the Duke of Sussex, Miss Mercer, and Lady
Charlotte Lindsay, for whom she had a great respect and regard. I
said that, however painful it was for me, the necessity was so clear
and so strong that I had not the least hesitation in advising it. She
again and again begged me to consider her situation, and to think
whether, looking to that, it was absolutely necessary she should
return.
"The day now began to dawn, and I took her to the window. The
election of Cochrane (after his expulsion owing to the sentence of
the Court, which both insured his re-election and abolished the
pillory) was to take place that day. I said, 'Look there, Madam; in
a few hours all the streets and the park, now empty, will be crowded
with tens of thousands. I have only to take you to the window, show
you to the crowd, and tell them your grievances, and they will all
rise in your behalf.' 'And why should they not?' I think she said,
or some such words. 'The commotion,' I answered, 'will be excessive;
Carlton House will be attacked--perhaps pulled down; the soldiers
will be ordered out; blood will be shed; and if your Royal Highness
were to live a hundred years, it never would be forgotten that your
running away from your father's house was the cause of the mischief;
and you may depend upon it, such is the English people's horror of
bloodshed, you never would get over it.' She, at once, felt the truth
of my assertion, and consented to see her uncle Frederic (the Duke of
York) below stairs, and return with him. But she required one of the
royal carriages should be sent for, which came with her governess,
and they, with the Duke of York, went home about five o'clock.
"Before she went, however, she desired me to make a minute of her
declaration that she was resolved not to marry the Prince of Orange,
and that, if ever there should be an announcement of such a match,
it must be understood to be without her consent, and against her
will. She added, 'I desire Augustus [Duke of Sussex] and Mr. Brougham
would particularly take notice of this.' When I had made the note, it
was read distinctly, and signed by all present, she signing first,
and six Copies were made and signed, and one given to each person
present."[28]
[Footnote 28: "The Life and Times of Henry, Lord Brougham,"
written by himself, 1871, vol. ii. p. 229.]
And so this little episode was ended. Who, think you, scored? I must
say, I think that victory was on the side of Mademoiselle.