She had learned of the King’s death through Brougham; she realized that she would never have been officially told which was an indication of what treatment she might expect when she reached England.
All the same, she insisted, I shall go. The King was happier than he had been for a long time, because he was in love. He had found the perfect woman in the Marchioness of Conyngham. Fair, fat and fifty, mother of five grown-up children, easy going, gentle, adoring— she was exactly what he had been looking for. She was completely uncritical and content only to listen and admire.
He was behaving as he had in his youth. He would sit and gaze at her in wonderment. He might have been a boy of seventeen. That this was a rather ridiculous attitude for an extremely plump and ageing monarch was left in no doubt, for the cartoonists and lampoonists were soon busy. She never argued, only agreed; she looked pretty; her blue eyes were still beautiful and her brow had never been wrinkled in concentration. How different from the waspish Lady Jersey, the frigid Lady Hertford and the hot-tempered Maria with her obsession about her religion and right and wrong.
Yes, he was happy. And the Marquis of Conyngham was the most complaisant of husbands. He raised no objections. He accepted the honours handed lavishly to him and his children as graciously and gratefully as his wife accepted the jewels, which the King delighted to give her.
He begged her to make full use of his palaces, his carriages, his horses. They were all at her disposal.
‘Do everything you please,’ he entreated her, ‘and then you will please me.’
And Lady Conyngham replied as he would have expected her to that only if she pleased him could she be pleased.
He wept. She did so much to make him happy in the most trying circumstances, he told her.
And the trying circumstances were across the Channel threatening to arrive and break his peace at any moment.
Queen! Why should that woman have that proud title? How much better it would suit dear Lady Conyngham. And yet even she could not give him children.
He struck Caroline’s name from the Liturgy and he reiterated to his ministers: I must have a divorce. A divorce, thought Brougham. That would involve a case— a costly case, a case in which he would defend the Queen and as he reckoned himself to be the ablest lawyer in England, he would win. What fame that would bring! He could laugh at Eldon then for denying him silk.
A case for divorce. It was a situation greatly to be desired.
Meanwhile Caroline had appointed him her attorney-general which meant that he was now called to the Bar. This was the first step forward. Lord Liverpool who was Prime Minister promptly called on Brougham and told him that the King was very anxious that the Queen should not return to England.
‘As her attorney you should advise her to remain abroad.’
Accusations had been brought against Her Majesty, pointed out Brougham.
Did the Prime Minister suggest that she should make no attempt to clear her name?
‘The accusations do not appear to be without some foundation,’ was the grim reply.
‘They are of such a grave nature,’ was Brougham’s answer, ‘that it is unwise to speak of them. It might be that it will be necessary to have Her Majesty’s name cleared publicly.’
Lord Liverpool understood. That was what Brougham wanted. Clearly he was visualizing a cause célèbre with himself in the centre of it— a chance to show the world what a brilliant lawyer he was.
‘Do you realize that if it came to that point it would be the Queen versus the King?’
‘I do not see what else it could be.’
‘It is not easy to stand against kings.’
‘Not easy, I agree,’ said Brougham.
‘I bring a proposition to you. You may offer her £50,000 if she will live abroad.’
‘£50,000!’ said Brougham lifting his eyebrows.
‘A comfortable sum of money.’
‘Very comfortable.’
‘If she is wise she will take it. I look forward to hearing her comments.’
When Liverpool had left Brougham thought: £50,000 and no case. That did not suit him at all. He decided he would not pass on this information to his royal client.
Caroline was making her preparations to return to England. There had been a subtle change in the treatment which had been accorded her by those who had hitherto been her friends. She guessed what had happened. It had been suggested to them that their hospitality and friendship for her meant that they were behaving in an unfriendly manner to the King of England. How he hates me! she thought.
How he hounds me! And what was he doing at home? Rumours came to her and she did not really need to be told. He was preparing a case against her because he was going to attempt to divorce her. ‘Let him,’ she cried. ‘He’ll not succeed.’
She laughed in her usual wild way with Lady Anne Hamilton. Dear creature, she thought, she had served her well in England and when she knew that her English attendants had made excuses to desert her had come out to be with her.
Lady Charlotte Campbell had married a Mr. Edward Bury two years before and she could not expect her to desert her new husband to serve an old mistress. But she was delighted with Lady Anne, for in her she found a true friend.
She discussed her thoughts freely.
‘He will try to divorce me, dear Lady Anne. He’s going to try to prove adultery and he’ll fail. I’ll tell you a secret. I did commit adultery once. Shall I tell with whom?’
Lady Anne looked startled and Caroline burst into loud laughter. ‘It was with Mrs. Fitzherbert’s husband.’
Lady Anne was relieved. Like everyone else in the Princess’s suite she had feared that her indiscretions meant she had at least taken Pergami as her lover.
If she is innocent, Lady Anne reassured herself, they will be able to prove nothing against her.
She felt very relieved.
Caroline’s party had left Italy and were travelling through Burgundy when Sir Matthew Wood arrived. She received him with great pleasure for he had been a friend of Sir Samuel Whitbread and since Sir Samuel’s suicide had written to her frequently.
Here was a man whom she knew she could trust. He had sent his son William Page Wood to her some weeks before because young William was a linguist and Sir Matthew guessed that while some of her Italian staff stayed with her, she would not bring Pergami to England with her, and that she would therefore need an interpreter.
Caroline was well aware that the scandals which had been circulating about her mainly concerned Pergami and she realized that to bring him to England would be construed as an admission that he was her lover, for in England she would naturally have no need for an Italian chamberlain. Pergami was well aware of this and was reconciled to the parting. He had planned to accompany her to Calais and then return to Italy.
Therefore the services of young Wood were very desirable, particularly as he was a charming boy who had been told by his father to serve her to the best of his ability.
So now it was doubly pleasant to greet Sir Matthew.
He had come, he said, to escort her back to England.
‘My dear, dear friend. I know I can rely on you.’
He was a little shocked by her appearance. She looked as rakish as ever but even the lavish application of rouge could not hide the change in her. Sir Matthew believed that the reports she must have heard were giving her sleepless nights.
She was even more talkative than usual; she laughed louder. She was aware of this. It was because of the pain which was recurring more frequently.
Sir Matthew told her a case was being prepared against her and she would have to answer it when she returned to England.
‘I’m ready,’ she replied.
‘The people will be on your side,’ he reassured her. ‘I am certain of that. The Crown has not brought His Majesty popularity.’
‘That’s strange. They like me better than they like him. And what he wants more than anything is to be loved. That’s what we all wish, I su
ppose. But he more than most.’
And she thought : I might have loved him. He might have loved me. Why was it we never had a chance? And now it can never be. We have come to a sad pass when he so wishes to be rid of me that he will take up the fight against me in public. Brougham had arrived in St. Omer. It now seemed to him imperative that the Queen should not return to England— yet. They were unprepared. He wanted time. Moreover the King’s Ministers had now made an offer of £50,000 a year and for this there were conditions.
He could no longer hide them from Caroline and set them before her.
‘The conditions,’ he told the Queen, ‘are that you are no longer named Queen of England and that you have no title which belongs to the royal family. You shall not live in any part of England. You shall not even visit England.’
There was a note in this letter which was ominous: ‘If the Queen sets foot in England, proceedings will immediately be taken against her.’
When Caroline heard this she was furious. How dared they! They had always treated her unfairly but this was insulting. Did they think to frighten her?
Brougham who now wished her not to hurry back to England yet, tried to persuade her not to be rash.
But her anger was aroused. She was going to return to England. She was going to claim her rights.
She sat down and wrote a somewhat peremptory note to Lord Liverpool.
I now take the opportunity of communicating to Lord Liverpool my intention of arriving in London next Saturday the 3rd June. And I desire that Lord Liverpool will give proper orders that one of the royal yachts should be in readiness at Calais to convey me to Dover; and likewise he would be pleased to signify to me His Majesty’s intentions as to what residence is to be allotted to me either for a temporary or a permanent habitation.
Caroline the Queene
On the sunny noon of June 6th, Caroline arrived at Dover.
She had said goodbye to Pergami who had returned to Pesaro where he bought a house and busied himself with clearing up Caroline’s affairs there.
Sir Matthew Wood had taken over Pergami’s duties and she was now as affectionate towards him as she had been to Pergami.
No one at Dover had been advised of her arrival and when the Commander of the garrison came down to the shore to discover who this important personage was and found her to be the Queen, he ordered a royal salute to be fired. The people came running out of their houses and when the rumour went round that the Queen had come, they cheered her and were determined to give her a good welcome.
She had not come to stay, she told them in her friendly manner; she was on her way to London. And after a brief stay in the town she set out for Canterbury.
News had reached Canterbury that the Queen was on her way and as it was dark by the time she and her suite arrived the townsfolk had lined the streets and stood with flambeaux to light her way and cheer her as she came. The landlord at the Fountain Inn had prepared a feast for the travellers and there they stayed the night. As they ate Caroline heard the shouts: ‘Long live the Queen.’
‘Ah,’ she cried, ‘at least the people are glad to see me.’ The next day there was waving of flags and more loyal greetings as she set out for London.
All along the route she was vociferously welcomed. At Gravesend and Deptford eager helpers were waiting to change the horses. The people of Blackheath were particularly determined to show her how glad they were to have her back. Many remembered her kindness to them when she had lived among them.
Some of them joined the party and rode with her into the Capital.
She had received no reply from Lord Liverpool and no place had been put at her disposal. Sir Matthew however had suggested that she make use of his house in South Audley Street until some suitable residence was offered her.
Into London she rode, triumphant and acclaimed. Next to her in her open carriage was Sir Matthew Wood and opposite her Lady Anne Hamilton. In the first of the carriages which followed sat Willikin, and other members of her entourage followed, some of them Italians, who looked on the scene with wonder.
Flags were waved and the people shouted long life to her. This was indeed an affectionate welcome home.
There was one spectator who looked on in horror. The King had gone to one of the small windows on the top floor of Carlton House where he would be able to watch unseen. He had asked his sister Mary to accompany him so that he would have a member of the family at his side.
‘Oh, God,’ he whispered, ‘how vulgar she is— even more so than I remembered! I cannot accept her as the Queen. The thought that she is considered to be my wife nauseates me.’
Mary whispered comfort and the magic word: Divorce.
‘We’ll get the evidence,’ he said. ‘There can’t be a doubt of it. Soon I shall be free.’
On Trial
THE King was determined that no time should be wasted. On the very day Caroline had set foot on English soil Liverpool in the House of Lords and Castlereagh in the Commons read a message from the King.
This stated that His Majesty thought it necessary to give to the House of Lords certain documents concerning the conduct of the Queen. This was a painful thing to do but the conduct of the Queen gave him no alternative.
Brougham who was present in the Commons when the message was read lost no time in seeing Caroline and compiling an answer in which she stated that she had been induced to return to England to clear her name for she was aware of the calumnies which had been invented against her. Her name had been omitted from the Liturgy; she had been denied a royal residence; she had been insulted at home and abroad. Efforts had been made to prejudice the world against her and she had been judged without trial. Only trial and conviction could justify what had been done to her.
Liverpool and members of the Government were disturbed by her attitude.
They could see that a trial could bring the Monarchy into disrepute. The King’s private life had been far from moral and it was not so long ago that across the Channel the people had risen in their wrath and annihilated the Monarchy.
Liverpool suggested a compromise. The £50,000 a year, a royal ship for travelling abroad and the honours due to the Queen of England should be accorded her.
This Caroline scornfully refused: There was nothing to be done but go ahead and on the 5th July— only some few weeks after Caroline had set foot on English soil— Lord Liverpool introduced a Bill to be read. This was known as the Bill of Pains and Penalties. Its object was: To deprive Her Majesty Caroline Amelia Elizabeth of the Title, Prerogatives, Rights, Privileges and Exemptions of Queen-Consort of the Realm and to dissolve the marriage between His Majesty and the said Caroline Amelia Elizabeth The Bill set out that Caroline had engaged Bartolomeo Pergami to serve in her household and that a disgraceful intimacy had sprung up between the Queen and Pergami. This licentious relationship had brought disgrace on the King and the royal family. Therefore it seemed right and proper that the Queen should be robbed of her privileges and the King granted an annulment of his marriage.
Under the guidance of Brougham, Caroline likened herself to Catharine of Aragon and demanded a fair trial.
The people of London were intensely interested. In the streets they talked of nothing else. The King’s great unpopularity meant that they were all on the side of the Queen. Caroline only had to appear for the crowd to sing her praises and cheer her.
The King’s carriage was pelted with mud. They saw him as a wicked old lecher. He could be as promiscuous as he liked but they would not accept his cruelty to his wife.
It was exciting. Nothing like this had happened for a long time. The funerals had been depressing occasions; but this was amusing. They had someone whom they could champion; they had someone whom they could hate; and they did so with enthusiasm.
Mobs went about crying Caroline forever. They stopped carriages and demanded: ‘Are you for the Queen?’
They even stopped that of the great Duke of Wellington such a short time before, the hero of the crowd.
‘Declare for the Queen!’ they cried. ‘Declare for the Queen!’
The Duke was furious that he, the great Wellington, should be drawn into this undignified squabble. The hero of Waterloo to be forced to declare for a woman like the Queen. But the mob was ugly. They carried brooms and pickaxes, and who could say that there was not a gun or two among them?
‘All right,’ cried the great soldier. ‘The Queen— damn you all. The Queen!
And may you all have wives like her.’
That made the crowd laugh. Trust Wellington to give as good as he got. A laugh went up. A cheer went up. He had after all saved them from Old Boney.
And the day of the trial approached and the excitement was intense.
Everyone was asking what the outcome would be.
Caroline left Brandenburg House, where she had taken up residence, for the court. She was dressed dramatically for the occasion in a dress of black figured gauze with enormous white Bishop’s sleeves decorated with lace. A heavy lace veil was swathed about her head and beneath this were seen the curls of her wig.
She was heavily painted and leaded. She looked, remarked one observer, like a toy which was called a Fanny Royd— a product of Holland with a heavy round bottom so that in whatever position it was placed it jumped upright. She came rushing into the House in a most ungraceful fashion and made a bob at the throne before seating herself, short legs apart, her dress falling in an ungainly manner over her chair.
Sir Robert Gifford, the Attorney General, presented the case for the Crown with the Solicitor General Sir John Copley. The Queen’s leading counsel were Brougham and Denman who were the opposite numbers of Gifford and Copley.
General opinion was that the Queen had the better men on her side.
The first two days of the trial were devoted to legal arguments and then the first witnesses were called.
This was disastrous for the Queen because to her amazement the first witness for the prosecution was Theodore Majocchi, one whom she had always regarded as her faithful servant. The knowledge that he had come to give evidence against her made her cry out somewhat incoherently. Some people said she denounced him as a traitor and what she said was ‘Traditore’. Others that it was his name that she spoke. But in any case she was so overcome emotionally that in her usual impetuous manner she rose and left the court.
Indiscretions of the Queen Page 35
