A forgotten Prince of Wales

by Henry Curties

FOOTNOTES:

[46] “The Griff” was one of the contemptuous titles bestowed at an early date on the Prince of Wales by his father.

[47] Lord Fanny was the nick-name given to Hervey.

[48] Hervey’s Memoirs Vol. iii., p. 231. This gives a very fair idea of public opinion on the subject.

CHAPTER XX.
The Prince is Cast Forth with His Family.[49]

If that phenomenon, the soft-hearted old lawyer, Lord Hardwicke, was moved to tears at the Prince’s position, that feeling did not extend to the King and Queen. On the morning of the 13th of September, the day before the Prince was to leave their roof, the following edifying remarks were made by them as they sat at breakfast:

“I hope in God,” piously repeated the Queen several times as she proceeded with her meal, “I shall never see him again.”

“Thank God!” responded the King in the same pious strain—no doubt with his mouth full and talking very quickly, “to-morrow night the Puppy will be out of my house!”

The Queen replied that she thought the Prince would rather like to be made a martyr of; but it was pointed out to her that the ignominy of being turned out of doors obscured any martyr-like attributes in the Prince’s opinion.

This beautiful scene appears to have been a lively one, for the King, getting excited, gave the company his opinion on the companions of his eldest son whom he referred to as “boobies, fools and madmen,” and their unlikelihood to represent anything to him in its proper light.

The King enumerated a few of the Prince’s household with what he considered appropriate remarks concerning each of them:

“There is my Lord Carnarvon,[50] a hot-headed, passionate, half-witted coxcomb, with no more sense than his master; there is Townshend,[51] a silent, proud, surly, wrong-headed booby; there is my Lord North,[52] a very good poor creature, but a very weak man; there is my Lord Baltimore, who thinks he understands everything and understands nothing, who wants to be well with both Courts and is well at neither, and entre nous is a little mad, and who else of his servants can you name that he listens to, unless it is the stuttering puppy, Johnny Lumley?”[53]

The ejection of the Prince and his family from St. James’s Palace had not been viewed without remonstrance; the Duke of Newcastle had begged the Princess Emily “for God’s sake”; that she would use her influence with her mother to prevent the last message going to the Prince.

But this request being conveyed to the Queen, by the Princess, did the Duke more harm with her than “all the stories his enemies could put together.”

So the message went, and the Prince and his family had to turn out on the 14th of September.

But even in this turning out, the little King, with his million a year[54] income, could not behave like a gentleman.

Not only were all foreign Ambassadors notified that it would be agreeable to the King if they kept away from the Prince’s house, but a written message was sent round to all peers, peeresses and privy councillors, stating that whoever waited on the Prince by way of attending his levées should not be received at Court.

The Guard was taken away from the Prince’s house, and, meanest of all, when Sir Robert Walpole, prompted by the Dukes of Newcastle and Grafton, tried to persuade the King and Queen to give the Prince and his wife the furniture of their apartments, the very reasonable request was refused.

The excuse the King made was that he had given the Prince Five thousand pounds out of his own pocket when he married to “set out” with, and, in addition, he had his wife’s fortune, another Five thousand pounds. (It does not seem clear, however, what this had to do with the King.)

“The wedding of the Prince of Wales,” the King added, “had cost him, one way and another, Fifty thousand pounds, and therefore he positively declined to let his son and his wife take any of their furniture away from their apartments, and he instructed the Lord Chamberlain, the Duke of Grafton, to see that none was removed.”

Lord Hervey, who was standing by at the time these orders were given, appears to have remonstrated and to have pointed out that chests and things of that nature could not be regarded as furniture, but were conveniences in which to pack the Prince and Princess’s clothes, otherwise they would have to carry them away in baskets like dirty linen.

“Why not?” broke in the large-minded little King, “a basket is good enough for them.”

Which was a piece of meanness, which would have disgraced a cobbler. The Queen seems to have aided and abetted the King in this mean conduct.

But the Prince and Princess with their Household and the baby, went their way, and in the first place took up their quarters at Kew, the Prince had despatched messengers to the heads of his party, the “Patriots.” Lord Chesterfield was ill of a fever at the time, and Pulteney was shooting in Norfolk; but there appears to have been a meeting of these two eventually with Carteret at Kew, and all three plainly told the Prince that they considered he had made a false step, and that his best course would be to endeavour to patch up a peace with his father and mother, and this he appears to have earnestly tried to do as the two following letters will show.

Copy of a letter from Lord Baltimore to Lord Grantham.

“London, September 13th, 1737.

“My Lord,

“I have in my hands a letter from his Royal Highness to the Queen, which I am commanded to give or transmit to your Lordship; and as I am afraid it might be improper for me to wait upon you at Hampton Court, I must beg you will be so good as to let me know how and in what manner I may deliver or send it to you.

“If I may presume to judge of my Royal Master’s sentiments, he does not conceive himself precluded by the King’s message from taking this, the only means of endeavouring as far as he is able to remove his Majesty’s displeasure.

“I am,
“Your Lordship’s very humble Servant,
“Baltimore.”

This letter caused a considerable flutter at Hampton Court, and a consultation was held as to what was to be done. It was said the Queen was anxious to refuse her son’s letter, but Sir Robert Walpole finished the matter by forbidding her to receive it, or to become mediatrix between the Prince and his father, in which there is no doubt he was simply doing the Queen’s will and taking the blame on his own shoulders.

The following letter was sent in reply to Lord Baltimore’s, and was dictated to Lord Grantham by Sir Robert Walpole. The Queen was on this occasion most anxious that Lord Grantham, who was a notoriously bad writer, should be carefully watched lest he made mistakes, and she was most desirous that the Prince should quite understand her intentions. This is the letter:

“Lord Grantham to Lord Baltimore.
“Hampton Court.
“Sept. 15th, 1737.

“My Lord,

“I have laid your Lordship’s letter before the Queen, who has commanded me to return your Lordship the following answer:—

“‘The Queen is very sorry that the Prince’s behaviour has given the King such just cause of offence, but thinks herself restrained by the King’s last message to the Prince from receiving any application from the Prince on that subject.’

“I am, my Lord,
“Your Lordship’s, etc.,
“Grantham.”

So thus ended the Prince’s further attempt at reconciliation by means of his mother.

He was, however, soon busy in finding a town house for himself and his family, whilst Carlton House—which stood near where the Duke of York’s Column now is—was being decorated and altered.

Carlton House had been purchased by him in 1732, through Lord Chesterfield, from the Countess of Burlington.

The house derived its name from Henry Boyle, Lord Carlton who probably built it, and who dying unmarried in 1725, it passed to his nephew, Lord Burlington, who gave it to his mother, from whom the Prince bought it. The Prince must at this time have had some idea of making a home for himself, and again in 1735 when he altered and much enlarged it.

But while Carlton House was being repaired he looked around for a temporary residence, and at first thought of Southampton House, which stood in a court and garden between what are now Bloomsbury and Russell Squares: the site is at the present time covered with houses. This residence was refused him by the owner, the Duke of Bedford, who was afraid to offend the King and Queen.

He then turned his attention to Norfolk House in St. James’s Square, but here again the owner, the Duke of Norfolk, had fears of getting into hot water, and sent the Duchess to Hampton Court to interview the Queen on the subject.

Finding there were no difficulties in the way, the Duke of Norfolk placed his house at the Prince’s disposal, and the latter shortly moved into it with his family. It may here be mentioned that it was in Norfolk House, in an old very ordinary looking bed with green hangings, that George the Third of England was born on the 4th June following, less than eleven months after the birth of his sister.

At Norfolk House the Prince, though he materially reduced his expenses and “farmed his tables”—i.e., was catered for at so much a head—yet soon gathered around him a Court, small, but brilliant. The Prince’s wit and great amiability, and the beauty and youth of his Princess, very naturally formed an attraction to many, and those principally of the most refined circle of the aristocracy, and their followers, the men of letters.

The King had previously expressed his opinion of his son’s supporters when they had gathered round him at Kew after his expulsion, and had added in anger and some jealousy: “They will soon be tired of the puppy.”

But still the Prince drew around him all the rising young men of the Tory Party and many of the wits of the day.

Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough, thus speaks of him at this time:—

“There is a great deal of very good company goes to Norfolk House, but if I were to advise, I would have more play, to make more people easy by sitting down, as it used to be in all the Courts, that ever I knew, either by a basset-table, or at other games, letting people of quality go halves. But they begin, to my thinking, with the same forms the late Queen did, only to leave room to entertain a few of the town ladies, and I think it don’t lessen one’s greatness, but the contrary, to make everybody, one can, easy.”

There was an incident one night at a theatre which caused the King and Queen much chagrin.

The play was “Cato,” and the Prince of Wales and his party were present; and the lines:

“When vice prevails, and impious men bear sway,

The post of honour is a private station.”

The audience, noting the application, broke out into cheers for the Prince, which he suitably acknowledged and joined in the applause for the actor.

But the most exasperating incident for the King and Queen was when the Prince and Princess of Wales received their good friends the Lord Mayor and Aldermen of London at Carlton House, to which mansion they went for the occasion.

The Lord Mayor and Aldermen had, very soon after the birth of the Princess, expressed a hope to the Prince that he would receive them to express their congratulations, and the Prince had characteristically replied that as soon as the Princess was well enough, he would communicate a date to them, when they could both receive them. The date eventually fixed upon was Thursday, the 22nd September, and the place Carlton House, the Duke of Norfolk’s house probably not being sufficiently large to contain such a deputation.

The Prince and Princess were attended on this occasion by Lord Carteret, Lord Chesterfield, the Duke of Marlborough and many others of the Household and Council.

To every member of the City deputation was given a printed copy of the King’s last message to his son—that originally written by Lord Hervey—turning the Prince and his family out of St. James’s.

The noblemen and gentlemen standing by the Prince, added their comments to the copies of the letter, especially Lord Carteret.

“You see, gentlemen,” he said, “how the Prince is threatened if he does not dismiss us; but we are here still for all that. He is a rock. You may depend upon him, gentlemen. He is sincere. He is firm.”

The Prince was a wordy man, and perhaps more beloved by the City on that account. The citizens had come out to enjoy themselves, and would have gone away disappointed if the Prince had not addressed them at length; besides it was an honour thus to be taken into his confidence over such a private affair.

The Prince did not disappoint them as regards the speech. He explained his great interest in the affairs of the City of London, and gave them a great idea of their importance, which was very acceptable to the Lord Mayor and Aldermen. He claimed their friendship, and told them he should never look upon them as beggars.

This last was a terrible blow at Sir Robert Walpole, who in the Excise year had given the greatest offence to the City of London by having been reported to have said “that the citizens were a party of sturdy beggars.”

Even Sir Robert Walpole was angered when the report of these proceedings reached the Court. The condition of the irate little King and his Queen can best be imagined.

“The Prince is firm, he is a rock,” sneered Sir Robert, “the Prince can never be more firm in maintaining Carteret than I am in my resolution never to have anything to do with him. I am a rock,” he raved, “I am determined in no shape will I ever act with that man.”

But there appeared to be a considerable mystery about the printing of the King’s letter of expulsion, as Lord Hervey states that Sir Robert Walpole had told him fully a week before that he intended to let this message “slip into print.” So that it is possible that Lord Carteret was only carrying out his intentions—for it was Carteret who had the letter printed—but not quite in the way which he intended or wished. About this time there was an amusing little passage between the Princess Caroline and her brother, the Prince of Wales. The two had never been friends.

It was by way of a message delivered by the Princess through the medium of Monsieur Desnoyer, that ubiquitous and much favoured dancing-master, who is continually hopping in and out of the history of this period.

The Princess instructed Desnoyer that when the Prince, who kept the dancing-master in his household, asked what they were saying about him at Hampton Court, concerning his adventure on the night of his daughter’s birth, Desnoyer was to reply that the Princess Caroline declared that all of them, excepting the Princess, deserved to be hanged.

“I know,” concluded the Princess, “you would tell this again, Monsieur Desnoyer, though I did not give you leave; but I say it with no other design than that you should repeat it.” Monsieur Desnoyer bowed and departed; but the next time he came to give his dancing lesson at Hampton Court the Princess Caroline hastened to ask him like a woman, full of curiosity, if he had delivered her message to the Prince of Wales.

“Yes, Madame,” responded the man of figures.

“And in the same words?” demanded the Princess.

“Yes, Madame, I have said: Monseigneur, do you know what Madame la Princesse Caroline has charged me to tell you? She said, Monseigneur, saving the respect that I bear you, that your Royal Highness ought to be hanged.”

“And what did he answer?” gasped the Princess, in an agony of expectation.

“Madame,” replied the dancing-master, “he spat in the fire, and then presently replied. ‘Ah! you know what Caroline is, she is always like that.’”

“When you see him again,” replied the Princess, bridling, “tell him that his answer is as foolish as his conduct.”

Just like a loving brother and sister!

Thus writes Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough, of events at this time, 1737:

“They have printed all the letters and messages that have passed between the King, Queen, Prince and Princess. This shows that the Minister thinks he has been in the right; but I don’t find any reasonable body of that opinion. And I observe that they have left out in this printed paper a message from his Majesty to the Prince, which was brought in writing by my Lord Dunmore; in which they judged very well, for it was certainly a very odd one, as I think it is, my Lord Harrington’s and Sir Robert Walpole’s evidence concerning the Prince, some part of which is certainly untrue.

“But upon the whole matter nobody can think that the Prince designed to hurt the Princess or the child, which was of much more consequence to him than it can be to her Majesty, who has so many children of her own. If the Prince had not had good success in what he ventured to do; and if it had been a real crime, the submissions the Prince has made, one would think ought to have been accepted, for the omission of a ceremony that was not natural for the Prince to think of at the time; and especially as he was treated at Court. But I suppose that Sir Robert did not think it a proper thing to say that the true cause of the quarrel was the Prince’s seeming to have a desire to have the whole of the allowance which the public pays for his support; and, indeed, I do think it would not have been becoming to have given that reason for what has been done. But if I may presume to give my opinion against Sir Robert’s, I should rather in his place have chose to have sent the message to the Prince, that he must leave St. James’s, because the King was dissatisfied with his behaviour in general; and not have given such strange reasons for the quarrel, and then publish a printed account with so many reflections upon the Prince, which no man that has any notion of honour can ever forgive.”

With regard to the publication of these letters, which was a kind of set-off against the Prince’s address to the Lord Mayor, Lord Hervey was employed to translate the Prince’s, and in the midst of his task went off to London. On his return he was greeted by the Queen, who was most anxious about the letters, in the following terms:—

“Where the devil are you, and what have you been doing? You are a pretty man to have the justification of your friends committed to your hands! There are the letters which you have had this week to translate, and they are not yet ready to be dispersed, and only that you must go to London to divert yourself with some of your nasty guenipes[55] instead of doing what you have undertaken.”

Hervey made her a quotation from Shakespeare in reply:—

“Go tell your slaves how choleric you are, and make your bondmen tremble. Your anger passes by me like the idle wind which I regard not.”