Charlotte & Leopold (8 page)

There was only so much time left to play for, however. Charlotte knew that she would have to make some sort of decision soon. The word was out. The Gloucester story was common knowledge. The marriage of the Princess Charlotte of Wales had replaced the relationship between her parents as the principal topic for gossip. Several newspapers were asking, ‘Will she choose the Orange or the Cheese – “Slender Billy” or “Silly Billy”?'

Yet there were plenty among the people and the press who still favoured the Duke of Devonshire rumour. Several journalists and cartoonists had suggested that the Regent and the Tories were offering Charlotte to the young Duke in order to tempt him and his money away from the Whigs.

The story that the Princess had fallen for the Duke of Devonshire was strengthened by Lady Charlotte Campbell, who said that
there was a portrait that looked very like him hanging on a wall in Warwick House. Although Miss Knight told her that it was not the Duke, Lady Charlotte insisted to everyone that it was, and indeed it may have been, or at least it may have looked like him. In her memoir, Cornelia Knight mentioned that there was a print of one of the Dukes of Devonshire hanging among many others at Warwick House. But Lady Charlotte was not very good at guessing the subject of portraits. There was also a miniature of a young hussar in Warwick House, which the Princess said belonged to her father, but which Lady Charlotte reckoned was probably George FitzClarence, and in that she was almost certainly wrong. If the Princess owned a portrait of an unnamed hussar, he was more likely to be Charles Hesse.

Princess Charlotte had not yet completely recovered from her ‘unfortunate folly'. On one occasion she wrote to Mercer,

But the folly was also a problem now. As Mercer pointed out, if Charlotte decided to marry her Prince, and if her mother continued to oppose the wedding, she was not above trying to stop it by revealing her daughter's relationship with Charles Hesse. And if she needed evidence to prove her story, she could probably persuade the little hussar to part with some of Charlotte's letters and presents.

When Hesse set out for Spain, he and Charlotte had agreed to burn all their letters to each other, and Charlotte had done so with
his, ‘for certainly they were much
too full
of
professions & nonsense
not to have got him into a desperate scrape if ever seen'. But she was pretty sure that he had not done the same thing with hers. So by the time Charlotte returned to London, at the beginning of November, Mercer had written to Lieutenant Hesse, asking him, as a man of honour, to send back everything that Charlotte had ever given or sent to him.

By then it was clear that the reign of Napoleon Bonaparte was drawing to a close. He had been defeated at Leipzig by the armies of Russia, Prussia, Sweden and Austria. Wellington had invaded France. Charlotte's favourite uncle and his Black Brunswickers had recovered their duchy. The Russian cavalry had reached Holland and the French army of occupation was withdrawing ahead of them. Napoleon's brother was no longer its king.

Not surprisingly, therefore, at the end of the month, Charlotte wrote to Mercer, ‘My
torments & plagues
are again beginning
again spite of all
promises made at Windsor. I have had a
violent orange
attack this morning.'

‘The little baroneted doctor' was on the offensive again. The Hereditary Prince of Orange was returning from France to Holland. He would be passing through England. The Prince Regent was planning a dinner for him. It was now Charlotte's duty to meet him and consider a marriage that could play such a vital part in the security of the realm. In pressing his case, the doctor reminded her that the marriage would bring her ‘power, riches and liberty'. He had an answer for every objection. If the Prince was too thin, he could fill out. If he had bad teeth, they could be fixed.

The Prince Regent joined the campaign, but this time in a different way. He was more respectful and warm-hearted with his daughter than ever before. Twice in the course of the next week he invited her to dine at Carlton House with his most distinguished guests, among them Prince Lieven, the Russian Ambassador; Lord Castlereagh, his brilliant Foreign Secretary; and Madame de Staël,
the greatest of France's women writers, who he knew was one of Charlotte's heroines.

Others lent their support, reminding Charlotte that there were many, including, it was said, Wellington, who had a high opinion of the young Prince of Orange.

Charlotte the young lady could be very stubborn. But Charlotte the princess had a sense of duty. On 8 December she wrote to Mercer:
‘I have agreed without any demur
or hesitation to see the young P. when he comes & as much as they please, because I am for doing all that is fair by them & indeed giving the young man a chance too.'

She accepted that a marriage would be greatly in the interest of both their countries, particularly since the Austrians were ‘being jealous respecting their share of Holland'. But she did have one reservation. If she married the Prince she would not be prepared to accompany him when he went to Holland.

‘As heiress presumptive to the Crown it is
certain
that I could not quit this country, as Queen of England
still less
. Therefore the P of O
must visit his frogs solo
.'

The Hereditary Prince of Orange landed at Portsmouth on 10 December. Next day Charlotte received a letter from Mercer, who had gone down to have a look at him as he came ashore. He had made a favourable impression. It was a relief. Mercer's opinion meant more than anyone's. It has, wrote Charlotte in reply, ‘eased me of 100,000 worries'.

But the relief was short-lived. Next day, the day when Charlotte and the Prince were due to meet, her father came round in the morning to Warwick House and put the pressure on again. He assured Charlotte that there was nothing to be nervous about. The dinner party was to be informal and as small as possible. She was to be accompanied only by the Duchess of Leeds. But, ‘he exacted a promise'. Charlotte must make up her mind that evening. After dinner she was to give him her answer ‘one way or the other'.

When Charlotte set out for the dinner, dressed in ‘violet satin, trimmed with black lace', she was, in Miss Knight's words, ‘pale and agitated', and she went, in her own words ‘with trepidation'.

Yet, as far as it could be, the evening was a success. The young Prince who would one day be King William II of the Netherlands sat on Princess Charlotte's right, with Lady Liverpool on his other side. ‘He struck me as very plain', wrote Charlotte to Mercer, ‘but he was so lively & animated that it quite went off… It is really singular how much we agreed together in allmost everything.'

After dinner, when many other guests arrived, the young couple walked up and down among them in the state apartments for a while. Then the Prince Regent came over, led Charlotte away to another room and asked her what she thought of the Prince.

Charlotte hesitated.

‘Then it will not do?' he said.

‘I do not say that', said Charlotte. ‘I like his manner very well, as much as I have seen of it.'

It was hardly a firm answer ‘one way or the other', but it was enough for the Prince Regent. He became as over-emotional as only he knew how. ‘You make me the happiest person in the world', he said.

He called over the Prime Minister and Lady Liverpool and gave them the good news. While they congratulated the Princess, he summoned the ‘quite awestruck' Prince. Then he joined the Prince's hand with his daughter's and gave them both his royal blessing. There was to be no going back now. Not if he could help it.

Cornelia Knight was waiting up for her when Charlotte returned to Warwick House. The Princess told her everything. She was now engaged to the young Prince of Orange. Miss Knight was astonished. ‘I could only remark', she wrote years later, ‘that she had gained a great victory over herself'.

But Charlotte was already coming to terms with what had happened. ‘No, you would not say so if you were to see him', she said. ‘He is by no means as disagreeable as I expected.'

Next day Miss Knight did get to see him. He came to call accompanied by Lord Bathurst. She was not over-impressed. ‘I thought him particularly plain and sickly in his look, his figure very slender, his manner rather hearty and boyish, but not unpleasant in a young soldier.'

On the day after that the young Prince came again, this time accompanied by Charlotte's father. Tactfully, the Regent allowed the young couple to be alone together, although, for the sake of propriety, he and Miss Knight sat by the fire in the next room with the door open, so that they could see them.

The Regent told ‘the Chevalier' that for the time being the betrothal was to be kept secret, and he then began to describe his plans for the marriage.

Suddenly they were both brought to their feet by the sound of Charlotte bursting into ‘a violent fit of sobs and hysterical tears'.

The Regent had no idea what was happening. ‘What!' he said. ‘Is he taking his leave?'

‘Not yet', said Charlotte, and then added that she was going to her room.

Tactful again, the Regent told the ladies that he and the Hereditary Prince were now late for a banquet and then hurriedly led him away.

When they were gone, Miss Knight asked Charlotte what was wrong, and she was not too surprised by the answer.

The Dutch Prince had just told the Princess that, when they were married, she would have to spend two or three months of every year in Holland.

C
HAPTER
N
INE

Making the Best of it

T
HE
H
EREDITARY
P
RINCE
of Orange was sympathetic. Before he left to spend Christmas in The Hague, he did all that he could to reassure Charlotte. When they were married, he told her, he would never insist that she came with him every time he went to Holland. Perhaps she would only need to come for two or three weeks in each year, and since by then she would have her own household, she could of course bring all her ladies with her.

For Charlotte it was enough for now. At least the Dutch Prince was being honest with her. Her real rage was with her father, who had trapped her into a quick decision without telling her what it entailed.

She was sure that in the long run she could rely on her Whig friends to advise and protect her. They would never allow their future queen to leave the country against her will. And in the short run, marriage with the latest William of Orange was still the only available key to freedom and a household of her own.

But it looks as though she was trying a bit too hard to persuade herself that the price was reasonable.

She wrote to Mercer. ‘To say I am in love with him would be untrue & ridiculous but I will say that I think him the most natural, open & undisguised character that ever was. I am persuaded I shall have a very great regard & opinion of him wh. perhaps is better to begin with & more likely to last than love.’

Miss Knight was not so sure. She also wrote to Mercer. ‘She thinks, or at least says, no one has influenced her.’

But Miss Knight was able to supply a long list of friends, uncles, aunts and ministers who, in her view, had done precisely that. Almost the only people who had not, she wrote, were the Duchess and the ‘Bish-UP’, although even they ‘wished it sincerely’ and had simply seen fit to keep ‘clear of urging or advising’.

‘The thing in itself may tend to her happiness’, she wrote, ‘but tricks and deception to bring about anything are horrid.’

And she ended gloomily, ‘It remains now to make the best of it… to make her gain his confidence and he hers, and if possible to prevent their being governed by all these artful people. My great hope is that as there are so many, and of different views and interests, they may, though they joined in this, ultimately defeat each other’s purposes.’

Meanwhile it was Christmas. For a few days doubts were set aside.

Charlotte went to Windsor. The company at the castle was, as expected, ‘disagreeable’. But she was impressed twice: first by her father’s tactful success in persuading the Queen to accept her engagement to a member of the House of Orange; secondly by the talent of an actress called Miss Smith, who came to read excerpts from the comedies, and who was, in Charlotte’s opinion, ‘far superior to Mrs Siddons’.

She returned to London in an optimistic mood. On 4 January, she wrote to Mercer. ‘Holland is a very odd place I believe… Even now I
doubt
being
much
amused there… We
must see what
we can do to make it more
Londonish & dandyish
…’

7 January was Charlotte’s eighteenth birthday, a day on which most noble ladies would have had a ball. But for Charlotte it was subdued and insignificant. In the morning she went with the Duchess to visit her mother, who had just abandoned Blackheath and Kensington Palace and was now living in Connaught House, on the north of the Bayswater Road, close to the junction with Park Lane. In allowing the visit, the Prince Regent had ruled that it must be brief and that there must be no mention of the engagement, which was probably just as well. On that particular morning, despite her undeserved popularity, the manic-depressive Princess of Wales was feeling lonely and consumed with self-pity.

In the evening Charlotte and Cornelia Knight listened to a little concert performed by her harp master and music master, and the tradesmen who supplied Warwick House came with their wives and danced in the dining room with the servants. The only members of Charlotte’s family who were present were two of her uncles, the Dukes of Sussex and Kent, who came round at the very end of the evening.

Charlotte’s father, who was staying with the Duke of Rutland at Belvoir Castle, was not pleased when he heard about his brothers’ visit. The Duke of Sussex was a Whig, and he suspected rightly that he was advising his daughter to defy the government, and he also suspected that the Duke of Kent was encouraging her to be extravagant.

Soon after he returned to snow-covered London, suffering from a severe attack of gout, he summoned Miss Knight to Carlton House. First he complained at length and in general about the Dukes of Kent and Sussex, to which Miss Knight said nothing. Then he told her reproachfully that he had read in the newspapers that Charlotte had ordered a new carriage from the Duke of Kent’s coach maker instead of from his own. To this she was able to answer that it was nothing to do with Charlotte. The coach had been ordered by the Duchess of Leeds, who had simply consulted the Duke of Kent. But
she did not have such a good answer when he censured Charlotte for spending far too much on jewellery and said that he thought it shameful for young ladies of immense fortune to accept valuable gifts from his daughter – he had clearly heard about the bracelet that had been given to Mercer for Christmas. In the end, as though it was a consequence of his displeasure, he said that, since his daughter was about to be married, she must consider her duties as a wife and live without amusements for a while.

So for the next two months Charlotte lived in Warwick House in dull and dignified isolation. The only notable events were the various stages in the protracted negotiations over one small clause in her marriage contract.

Lords Liverpool and Castlereagh, who were drawing up the contract, were aware of most people’s reservations. They knew that no one wanted to see the crowns of England and Holland united. So they stipulated that, if Charlotte and William had more than one child, the eldest son would inherit England and the next Holland. If they had only one child, that child would inherit England and the Dutch crown would go to the German branch of the House of Orange. But, out of deference to the Dutch, the Prime Minister and the Foreign Secretary both felt that Princess Charlotte ought to be required to spend at least some time each year in Holland.

Among the Whigs there were some, such as the Duke of Sussex and Earl Grey, who approved of the proposed marriage but felt that Charlotte should never be required to leave the country against her will. But there were many others, among them Brougham and Whitbread, who were passionately opposed to the marriage. As a matter of principle they objected to turning the Dutch Republic into a monarchy, and they felt that Britain would be taking on the huge additional expense of providing for the defence of Holland,
sometimes perhaps in circumstances where Britain itself was not threatened.

As a first step towards changing Charlotte’s mind, Brougham tried to persuade her that her father wanted to get her out of the country because he envied her popularity.

Charlotte was susceptible to that. She was learning not to trust her father. That was one reason why the negotiations were taking so long. She insisted that everything must be in writing – partly to prevent her father from subsequently denying anything that suited him, and partly because she was sending everything to Grey and Brougham, so that they could tell her what to write in reply.

Naturally Mercer was also consulted, first by letter and then in person. She came to town in the middle of February, and after that the most reliable of all secret messengers carried the letters between Charlotte and her Whig advisers.

In the correspondence and conversations with Mercer there was, however, one other cause for concern – Lieutenant Hesse. He had written back to Mercer at last. Most of his letters and presents from Charlotte were in a trunk which he had left in the care of an unnamed friend in England. In the event of his death, the friend had promised to sink the trunk and its contents in the river Thames. As for the letters and the watch that were with him, he did not think it was safe to send them back at the moment, but he would leave instructions that, if he was killed, all his possessions were to be sent to Mercer.

It was not a satisfactory answer. But it would have to do until Hesse came home, and that was likely to be soon. Everyone outside France was preparing for the end that now seemed inevitable.

As soon as they were rid of Napoleon, all the European sovereigns were planning to come to England to celebrate their victory, and as a
vanguard, or perhaps a reconnaissance, the Tsar’s favourite sister, the Grand Duchess Catherine, arrived while Napoleon was still at large.

The clever and cultured Grand Duchess Catherine was dark and dignified with slavonic, slightly Mongolian features. At the age of twenty-five she was already a widow. After nursing her husband, Prince George of Oldenberg, through his long, fatal illness, she went to neighbouring Holland, where she met Charlotte’s uncle William, the Duke of Clarence, who was there on a goodwill visit, and who was soon besotted with her.

When she announced her intention to travel on to England, the Prince Regent sent one of the Royal Navy’s cutters to bring her over. But the Grand Duchess Catherine was much too grand a duchess to travel in a mere cutter, and besides she had three or four carriages with her and thirty-seven people on her staff. So Admiral His Royal Highness the Duke of Clarence, who was to be remembered as ‘The Sailor King’, ordered up a frigate, HMS
Jason
, and stood off himself in the cutter as an escort.

The Grand Duchess arrived in London on 17 March. At the Prince Regent’s expense, she and her staff, which included her senile governess, Princess Volkonskoi and, ironically, Prince Gagarin, took over the entire Pulteney Hotel, the first in the world to have ‘en suite’ bathrooms, which stood opposite Green Park on the corner of Bolton Street and Piccadilly.

For the first six weeks of her stay, however, the Grand Duchess used the hotel only as a base. She visited Oxford, Cambridge, Bath and as many of the great country houses as she could manage. When she was in town she went frequently to the opera and the theatre. She was shown round the Bank of England by the directors, but she asked such penetrating technical questions that they had to send for one of the clerks to answer them. She was shown round Whitbread’s brewery by Samuel Whitbread, which infuriated his former friend the Prince Regent. And to the delight of the Londoners, who adored her in no time, she drove everywhere in an open carriage wearing the
huge coal-scuttle bonnet that became the model for one of the most characteristic Regency fashions.

When the Grand Duchess arrived in London, the Prince Regent went round to the hotel to welcome her. But he went much too early. She was still changing to receive him when a footman came to announce his arrival. The meeting was more embarrassing than cordial.

That evening, when she dined at Carlton House, the Grand Duchess confirmed the opinion that she had formed earlier. She did not like the Prince Regent. But she liked very much his daughter, who was also present. In a letter to her brother the Tsar she described Charlotte as ‘the most interesting member of the family… She is blonde, has a handsome nose, a delicious mouth and fine teeth… She is full of spirit and positive in character. She seems to have an iron will in the smallest things…’ But ‘her manners’, wrote the Grand Duchess, ‘are so extraordinary that they take one’s breath away… She walks up to any man, young or old, especially to the older men, takes them by the hand, and shakes it with all her strength… She looks like a boy, or rather a ragamuffin. I really am telling you nothing but the strictest truth. She is ravishing, and it is a crime to have allowed her to acquire such habits.’