FOOTNOTES:
[43] She was thirty-seven at this time, having been born in 1700.
CHAPTER XVIII.
A Most Extraordinary Event.
We now approach some of the most extraordinary events of the Prince’s life, those circumstances surrounding the birth of his first child.
There had been a great deal of speculation, which was very natural under the circumstances, as to the probability of the Princess of Wales bearing a child, and the Queen and the Princess Caroline are said to have formed an opinion, for reasons unknown, that she never would. In all probability the wish in this case was father to the thought, for the coming of a lineal heir to the crown through the Prince of Wales, was an event not desired by the King or Queen, who it was well known desired the crown for the Duke of Cumberland, now a handsome boy of sixteen.
It was therefore no doubt owing to this reason that neither the Prince or Princess of Wales appeared to be in any hurry to publicly announce this event. As a matter of fact the first formal intimation of it was conveyed in the following letter from the Prince to his royal mother, sent by Lord North, his Lord of the Bedchamber then in waiting.
De Kew ce 5 de juillet.
Madame,
Le Dr. Hollings et Mrs. Cannons vient de me dire qu’il n’y a plus à douter de la grossesse de la Princesse d’abord que j’ai eu leur autorité, je n’ai pas voulu manquer d’en faire part à votre Majesté, et de la supplier d’en informer le Roi en même tems.
Je suis avec tout le respect possible, Madame,
De Votre Majesté
Le très humble et très obeissant fils et serviteur
Frederick.
Lord Hervey relates in his Memoirs that on the occasion of the next visit of the Princess to the Court, she was subjected by the Queen to a series of questions, perhaps quite natural under the circumstances. To these questions she received from the Princess of Wales but one answer throughout:—“I don’t know.”
Being at last wearied with this continual repetition of the same response, she changed the subject. But in the light of other events it is perfectly clear that the Princess had her answer prepared beforehand, and was determined she would give the Queen as little information on the subject as possible. There cannot be a doubt that the Prince and Princess had made their minds up together on this point, and that they had some very good reason for it.
What was that reason?
A study of the events that followed will probably disclose the answer.
The most circumstantial record of these events is undoubtedly that given by Lord Hervey, though written with great bias, and his usual endeavour to blacken the Prince’s character as much as possible.
There appears to have been a strong desire on the part of the King and Queen that the Princess’s lying-in should take place at Hampton Court, and an equally strong determination on the part of the Prince and Princess that it should not. This intense desire of the King and Queen that the young Princess should lie-in at Hampton Court seems to have exceeded all bounds.
So much did the Queen work upon the feelings of the King and Sir Robert Walpole—she seems to have been the Prime mover—that it was decided to send a message to the Prince of Wales commanding that the Princess should lie-in at Hampton Court. They seem to have had some insane idea that there would be a supposititious child, though why this should be needed, in the case of a healthy young man and woman, never transpired. The message, however, was never sent, according to Lord Hervey, though some writers say it was. If it was not it was certainly owing to the wisdom of Walpole.
“At her labour I will positively be,” remarked the Queen, “for she cannot be brought to bed as quick as one can blow one’s nose, and I will be sure it is her child.”
What was the reason of this absurd anxiety?
It is impossible to say with certainty what was passing in the minds of these young people at this time; the girl wife of eighteen, and her husband who, among all his many relatives, could not rely upon one as a friend. There must, however, have been some very strong motive—a feeling which they held in sympathy, to have caused them to have acted as they did.
The Court in the meantime had removed from Richmond—the old palace down by the river near Kew[44] to Hampton Court, and with it the Prince and Princess of Wales with their household as usual. The Court had gone on its usual humdrum way, one long summer’s day being, in its regular routine of walks, drives, bowls and cards in the evening, as much like another as possible, in the manner so bitterly complained of by Lady Suffolk in her last days at Court.
Everything went on as usual, and the accouchement of the Princess was looked upon by everyone as being a yet far off event.
So matters stood until Sunday, the 31st of July, 1737. This is the account given by Lord Hervey of the amusements on the evening of that day:
“The King played at commerce below stairs, the Queen above at quadrille, the Princess Emily at her commerce table, and the Princess Caroline and Lord Hervey at cribbage, just as usual, and separated all at ten o’clock; and what is incredible to relate, went to bed all at eleven, without hearing one single syllable of the Princess’s being ill, or even of her not being in the house.”
So the whole household retired to rest and peace reigned over the ancient mansion of Cardinal Wolsey. But not for long. At half-past one a courier arrived at the Palace, and eventually succeeded in arousing one of the Queen’s Women of the Bedchamber, a certain Mrs. Tichborne, who forthwith, on hearing what the courier had to say, went straight off to their Majesties’ sacred bedroom, and awakened them.
The Queen, on her entering the chamber, started up, and very naturally enquired whether the house was on fire.
Mrs. Tichborne, having eased the Royal mind on this point, proceeded to give the Queen, as best she could, information on a very delicate subject. She said the Prince had sent to let their Majesties know the Princess was in labour.
The suddenness of this communication produced the effect upon the Queen which might have been expected.
“My God!” she cried, starting up, “my night gown, I’ll go to her this moment.”
“Your night gown, Madam?” repeated Mrs. Tichborne, thinking it about time she should know all, “and your coaches too; the Princess is at St. James’s.”
“Are you mad,” interrupted the Queen, “or are you asleep, my good Tichborne? You dream!”
Mrs. Tichborne, however, confirmed her first assertion, and an excited little nightcap popped up from the King’s side of the bed, and there came from beneath it a torrent of very guttural German, of which the following is a translation:
“You see now, with all your wisdom, how they have outwitted you. This is all your fault. There is a false child which will be upon you, and how will you answer it to all your children? This has been fine care and fine management for your son William—he is mightily obliged to you. And for Ann I hope she will come over and scold you herself. I am sure you deserve anything she can say to you.”
This allusion to the Princess Royal referred to an idea she had that she might succeed to the throne of England if neither of her brothers married. But the poor Queen was far too anxious and excited to pay any attention to her wrathful little royal spouse; apparently during most of the tirade she was getting into her clothes the best way she could, with the assistance of Mrs. Tichborne. While dressing as fast as possible, she ordered her coaches and sent messages to the Duke of Grafton and Lord Hervey to go with her. For to St. James’s she was going as fast as she could.
At half-past two, the great coaches containing the Queen, the two eldest Princesses with their ladies, the Duke of Grafton, Lord Hervey and Lord Essex, who was to be sent back with news to the King, rumbled out of the gateway of Hampton Court Palace and drove off through the summer night towards London.
An account is now desirable of what took place earlier in the evening in the Princess’s apartments at Hampton Court.
It appears that the Princess of Wales, having decorously dined in public—in presence of the household—that Sunday evening, was, on her return to her own rooms, taken very ill; it soon became apparent that the pains she was suffering from were those of labour.
Despite the strong endeavour of Lord Hervey in his account of this affair to make it appear that the Prince was forcing his wife to go in the state she was to St. James’s Palace, it must be distinctly remembered that the Princess herself stated that the removal to St. James’s Palace was made at her own request, and her reason for taking this course will be shown later.
When it became apparent beyond all doubt that the Princess was enduring the pains of labour, the Prince ordered a coach to be secretly got ready; there is no doubt whatever that provision for this had been made beforehand.
It appears that by the time the coach was ready the Princess was suffering a good deal, and had to be supported by the Prince, a Mr. Bloodworth, one of the Prince’s equerries, and by a Monsieur Desnoyer, a dancing master above all people, who appears to have been a sort of privileged person, allowed to roam free over the Palaces.
The whole proceeding was highly indelicate, and what followed more so; Lady Archibald Hamilton, and Mr. Townshend, one of the Prince’s Grooms-in-Waiting, are both said to have protested against the proceeding, and to have done so very properly. But why were these young people so anxious to get away from Hampton Court Palace, that their child might be born elsewhere? It is perfectly plain that they had a very strong motive indeed. What was that motive?
The poor young Princess seems to have been got down stairs and into the waiting coach with the greatest difficulty, and was in a terrible plight when she arrived there, as one might very well expect, considering her age and the novelty of her condition. There entered into the coach with her, Lady Archibald Hamilton and two of her dressers, Mrs. Clavering and Mrs. Paine. Reid, the Prince’s Valet-de-Chambre, who also appears to have been a surgeon, and a man midwife, mounted upon the box, and Bloodworth the Equerry, and two or three more mounted behind the coach.
After enjoining secrecy on all his household concerning his removal—which injunction seems to have been faithfully heeded—the Prince entered the coach and gave the order to drive at a gallop to St. James’s Palace.
There must have been a pretty scene inside the coach, considering the Princess’s state, and the condition of mind, under the circumstances, of the three ladies in attendance. The Prince seems to have been in a high state of excitement, and to have divided his time between trying to comfort his young wife and using strong language.
About ten o’clock “this cargo,” as Lord Hervey elegantly describes it, arrived at St. James’s Palace, where, of course, nothing whatever was ready for the Princess’s accouchement. The only attendant there, and that a very necessary one, was the midwife, and she appeared in a few minutes, having evidently been warned beforehand. There were not even sheets ready for the Princess, and it is said that the Prince and one of the ladies aired two tablecloths, between which the Princess was put to bed.
There should, of course, have been present at this, the birth of a direct heir to the Crown, some of the Lords of the Council, but Lord Wilmington, and Lord Godolphin, Privy Seal, somehow appeared mysteriously upon the scene. It seems, however, that Lord Wilmington had received a message from the Prince at his house at Chiswick, and came at once. At a quarter before eleven, within three quarters of an hour of her arrival, the Princess was delivered of what Lord Hervey delicately describes as “a little rat of a girl, about the bigness of a good large tooth-pick case.”
Mark the hearty welcome extended to this little stranger by the King and Queen’s confidant!
It may be here mentioned that the “little rat” grew into an exceedingly pretty girl, but with a peculiar gift of unintentionally upsetting people, which was supposed to be a result of her mother’s trials at her birth. She became Duchess of Brunswick, and died in 1813.
It was four o’clock before the Queen’s Party reached St. James’s Palace, and then being told, in answer to an enquiry, that the Princess was very well, concluded that nothing had happened. However, the Queen, to whom this whole affair must have been a great trial—for she was in very bad health—ascended the stairs to the Prince’s apartments, and Lord Hervey considerately promised to get her a fire and some chocolate in his own room. As she parted from him she made this most extraordinary remark, which can be taken as a sample of the unreasonable fear and hatred towards their son which had obsessed the minds of the King and Queen.
“To be sure,” replied the Queen, referring to the chocolate and the fire, “I shall not stay long; I shall be mightily obliged to you”; then winked and added: “nor you need not fear my tasting anything in this side of the house.”
The Prince received his mother and sisters in what is described by Lord Hervey as his night gown and night cap, but what we should more correctly describe as a dressing gown perhaps; he kissed the Queen’s hand and cheek in German fashion, and then broke the news to her of the birth of his daughter.
Then there appears to have ensued a passage of words between mother and son as to why a messenger had not been sent to Hampton Court before to acquaint the King and herself of the happy event, as she had not left until more than three hours after the birth of the child.
To this the Prince replied that he had sent a messenger as soon as he could write the news, and this may very well have happened, as the journey took the Queen an hour and a half, with no doubt four horses to each coach.
The Queen went into the Princess’s bedchamber, and seems to have greeted her kindly and congratulated her.
“Apparrement, Madame,” she observed, “vous avez horriblement souffert.”
“Point de tout,” answered the Princess; “ce n’est rien.” Then the “little rat” was brought in by Lady Hamilton and duly kissed by the royal grandmother:
“Le bon Dieu,” she remarked, piously, “vous benisse pauvre petite creature! Vous voila arrivée dans un disagrèable monde!”
The little one had not then been dressed, and was wrapped up in a red mantle.
The Prince appears to have excitedly but perfectly openly narrated to his mother the circumstances of the journey, freely admitting that on the previous Monday and Friday he had also carried the Princess to London, thinking then that the event was imminent.
The birth having taken place he seems to have made no secret of their desire that the accouchement of the Princess should take place in London.
Lord Hervey, in his account, goes very fully into details, too much so, perhaps, to suit modern ideas of delicacy, but the Prince made no secret to his mother that at one time he thought that he should have had to take his wife into some house on the road, so imminent did the event seem.
To his long account the Queen answered not a word, but turned the shafts of her wrath upon Lady Hamilton, who was standing by with the baby.
“At the indiscretion of young fools who knew nothing of the dangers to which this poor child and its mother were exposed, I am less surprised; but for you, my Lady Archibald, who have had ten children, that with your experience, and at your age, you should suffer these people to act such a madness, I am astonished, and wonder how you could, for your own sake as well as theirs, venture to be concerned in such an expedition.”
Lady Archibald made the Queen no answer to this address, which sounded rather like a rebuke to one of her own dependents, which Lady Archibald probably really was. The latter turned to the Prince and simply remarked:
“You see, sir.”
Lord Hervey appears to have received an account of this interview direct from the Queen and Princesses when they were partaking of the chocolate he had had prepared for them in his room, and we may take it that any conversation unfavourable to them was discreetly left out.
The Duke of Grafton, Lord Essex and Lord Hervey, were then admitted to see the baby, and the Queen withdrew with this very considerate remark to the Princess of Wales after embracing her:
“My good Princess, is there anything you want, anything you wish or anything you would have me do? Here I am, you have but to speak and ask, and whatever is in my power that you would have me do, I promise you I will do it.”
The Prince accompanied her to the foot of the stairs where he parted from his mother, who walked across the courtyard to Lord Hervey’s lodgings. Arrived there she made the following characteristic and elegant observation to the two Princesses and the Duke of Grafton, and Lord Hervey who accompanied her:
“Well, upon my honour, I no more doubt this poor little bit of a thing is the Princess’s child than I doubt of either of these two being mine; though I own to you I had my doubts upon the road that there would be some juggle, and if instead of this poor little ugly she-mouse there had been a brave, large, fat, jolly boy, I should not have been cured of my suspicions.”
And now comes the great question which has puzzled everybody from that day to this, and to which only the feeblest and most unsatisfying answers have been given.
Why did the Prince and Princess take all this trouble in removing from Hampton Court in order that their child might be born in London?
That they had made their preparations beforehand in providing the nurse who appeared at a few minutes’ notice cannot be doubted, and that, like the careless young people that they were, they left out many of the essentials—such as the sheets—is also evident. Why did they take all this trouble?
Some historians state that it was simply a studied act of disobedience to the King and Queen.
If that were so, then it was a most inconvenient mode of showing it, and the same end might have been achieved at much less trouble to themselves.
Others—and Lord Hervey amongst them—describe it as a pure act of bravado and arrogance to show the Prince’s independence. If this were the true reason then the Prince must have been an inhuman brute, and we know from a great many instances of his kindness and undoubted affection for his young wife, that he was not.
No, to venture an opinion of the real reason for this most extraordinary proceeding, we must review a few simple facts. In the first place the true position of the Prince of Wales with regard to his parents and the rest of the Royal Family, must have been well known to the Princess Augusta before she came to England at all. She knew full well, in common with most continental Princesses, that the heir to the throne of England was by no means a favourite with his parents and that he was only brought over from Hanover because the English people demanded it. He was not wanted by the Royal Family, they wanted the crown of England for the handsome second son, William Duke of Cumberland, afterwards adorned with the additional title of “The Butcher of Culloden.”
Frederick was not handsome though he had a charm of manner, chiefly owing to his amiability and kind-heartedness which endeared him to the people. William had none of these attributes, he was handsome, and very like his mother—a glance at their portraits will show that—and he also had an exceedingly cruel nature, which perhaps the people soon found out.
Any doubt which may exist in a reader’s mind as to the preference of King George the Second and his Queen for their second son, may be set at rest by a glance at the following account of certain events which took place in the reign of George the First:
“George I. in his enmity to George II. entertained some idea of separating the sovereignty of England and Hanover (Coxe’s Walpole, p. 132) and we find from Lord Chancellor King’s Diary, under the date of June, 1725, ‘a negotiation had been lately on foot in relation to the two young Princes, Frederick and William. The Prince (George II.) and his wife were for excluding Prince Frederick, but that after the King and the Prince, he would be Elector of Hanover and Prince William, King of Great Britain; but that the King said it would be unjust to do it without Prince Frederick’s consent, who was now of an age to judge for himself, and so the matter now stood.’ (Campbell’s Chancellors IV. 318). Sir Robert Walpole, who communicated this to the Chancellor, added that he had told George I. that ‘if he did not bring Prince Frederick over in his lifetime, he would never set his foot on English ground.’”[45]
This early enmity of his parents to Frederick, Lord Campbell cannot explain.
So that it is quite clear that but for the intervention of his grandfather, George the First (about the only disinterested friend he ever had) Frederick would have been left to the tender mercies of his father and mother who would very certainly have deprived him of his birthright in favour of their handsome second boy. The Princess of Wales’s reception in England had not been of that warm description to convey to her the idea that her coming had been particularly desired. It will be remembered that she remained at Gravesend for forty-eight hours without any of the Royal Family coming near her at all except Frederick. She very soon realized the state of affairs, and there is something pitiable about the young girl of seventeen, casting herself at the feet of George the Second and his wife as if to propitiate them, in spite of their disinclination to receive her.
No, it was very soon made plain to the young Princess of Wales that her husband was not wanted here at all, nay that he was hated for standing in the way of his handsome brother, and that she, too, this despised Prince’s wife, was not wanted either.
To a girl of her keen perception, for it was shown by her conduct on her arrival that she was exceedingly intelligent, it cannot be for a moment doubted that as those anxious moments of imminent motherhood drew near she painfully realized too, that her baby was not wanted either, to be another stumbling block in the way of the favourite son.
It is not at all an uncommon thing for young married people to have this overstrung sense of anxiety for their coming little one, and to conjure up in their minds fears for which, perhaps, there is no reason. It cannot be said for a moment that the King and Queen had any designs on the life of the coming grandchild, although it was a barbarous age, when life was held much cheaper than it is now, and the life of a little baby—especially a “little rat”—did not count for much. Even King George himself used to say there were not half enough hangings, and that if they came into his hands he would not spare them, although God knows at that time men and women were strung up in rows outside the gaols in numbers sufficient to satisfy the most bloodthirsty advocate of capital punishment.
No, there cannot be a reasonable doubt that this night journey of the Prince and Princess was undertaken in an unreasoning panic maybe, but in an honest fear that the life of their coming little one was not safe at Hampton Court Palace, and that at any risk to themselves they would have the birth of the child take place in surroundings over which they had entire control, even though, as it happened, the royal child should be born between two tablecloths instead of sheets.