The Duke did not drink the toast, but left the room abruptly, scarcely bowing to his brother as he passed.
The verses and allusions quoted speak plainly to the extraordinary dislike which was felt for the Duke; he was suspected of horrible crimes, and though publicly pronounced innocent, was still suspected. The allusion in the verses to blood and a razor referred to an alleged attempt made upon the Duke’s life in 1810 by one of his valets. In the summer of that year Cumberland was found in his apartments in St. James’ Palace wounded in six different places, and the valet was found in his bed with his throat cut. The decision upon this was that for some unknown reason the servant had attacked his master and had then gone back to his room and cut his throat in bed. The evidence was just shaky enough to leave doubt, for there were peculiar features, blood being found all about the man’s room, even in the wash basin, but the judge’s decision was, of course, a foregone conclusion. Popular opinion decided, however, that the Duke had met with his injuries while his man fought for his life, but naturally any hardy editor who allowed such an idea to be published received punishment.
In 1829 Cumberland’s reputation suffered a worse shock in the revelations made by a certain Captain Garth, who found a box of letters hidden in the house of his putative father, General Garth. These letters threw an amazing light on his own birth, showing that he was the son of the Duke of Cumberland and of Princess Sophia. Captain Garth appointed a Mr. Westmacott, while the Duke or George IV. appointed Sir Herbert Taylor, the King’s private secretary, to arrange matters, and in spite of the fact that the Duke and the Royal Family denied everything, an agreement was come to by which Garth was to receive £2,400 a year as annuity, and a sum of £8,000 down to pay his debts, on condition that he should forget the box and its contents. The matter was almost forgotten when Garth filed a bill in Chancery to prevent Westmacott from disposing of the box, because he had only received £3,000 on account and had been refused the rest. So the sordid affair was once again dragged through the columns of every paper. Sir Herbert Taylor explained that the failure to keep the arrangement was caused by the fact that Garth had told the secrets in the box to other people, and had kept copies of the letters. All the dailies and weeklies had their varying articles upon this, and then—publicly—the matter died out. Garth was probably squared. Whether his tale was true or false it had this justification, that General Garth was believed—according to the “Annual Register”—to have had a son by a lady of very illustrious birth, and it was further said that George III. had induced the General to accept the paternity of the boy. Earl Grey notes, however, in a letter to Princess Lieven, that “the renewed attack on the subject of Garth looks like a renewed apprehension of the effects of Cumberland’s influence on the King.”
Quite apart from this charge, Cumberland was unscrupulous in his amours, and one is constantly coming across references to this vice; thus Lord Ellenborough notes, in 1830: “The suicide of —— on account of his wife’s seduction by the Duke of Cumberland, will drive the Duke of Cumberland out of the field.”
Cumberland had one legitimate son, Prince George, who is described as a beautiful boy, tall, slim, upright, with fair hair and fresh complexion, his eyes always partly shut, for, poor lad, he was blind. He knew little of his cousin Victoria, though he often wished to know her better, but the Duchess was from the first afraid of any matrimonial entanglement with her husband’s family, and would not let the young people meet oftener than she could help.
The Duke of Sussex was very different from his brother, being a kindly, amiable man, and the most popular of the Princes. He was a lover of books and of philosophy; but Creevy said of him that “he never says anything that makes you think him foolish, yet there is a nothingness in him which is to the last degree fatiguing.” He married Lady Augusta Murray, daughter of the fourth Earl of Dunmore, in 1793, the marriage being dissolved in the following year as contrary to the Royal Marriage Act—a fact which did not trouble the Duke much until his inclination led him to break with Lady Augusta. Their son Augustus was born in 1794, and their daughter in 1801. Long before Augusta’s death in 1830 the Duke of Sussex had taken as a second partner in life Lady Cecilia, daughter of the Earl of Arran, and widow of an attorney knight of the unromantic name of Buggin. It seems a pity that Lady Augusta, who was of Royal blood, should have had to give place to one owning such a name! However, Lady Cecilia took her mother’s name of Underwood, and was known by it until, in 1840, the Duke went through the long-delayed form of marriage with her, and Queen Victoria created her Duchess of Inverness.
The Princess Victoria had a real affection for her uncles, King William and the Duke of Sussex, but Cumberland she always abhorred, probably not for his immorality—they were all immoral—but on account of the hatred he felt for her and her mother, and for the brutality of his nature, which made him subject to paroxysms of passion, during which everyone, even his wife, feared him.
It is curious to realise that Queen Victoria, who laid such stress upon the purity of her Court, and who did much to revolutionise society in this regard, was surrounded by people who openly defied the laws, written and unwritten. In later life she would not allow near her Throne a woman against whom there had been a breath of scandal, but in the early days of her reign she was surrounded by men who were smirched and dishonoured by loose living. To her, indeed, there was one law for men and another for women, and in spite of the terrible lesson she received in 1839—to be dealt with in a later chapter—she held to that attitude throughout her life.
One other person who, besides her mother, dominated the Princess’s daily existence was her uncle, Prince Leopold, her mother’s brother. As the husband of Princess Charlotte he drew an income of £50,000 from this country, and had been given Claremont as a dwelling. These he retained after the death of his wife in 1816, living partly in London and partly at Claremont. He led a quieter, more sedate life than did the Guelphs, was precise in his ways, prided himself highly on his fine manners, and was cordially detested by the English Princes and Peers. The fact that he did not drink angered both George IV. and William IV., while his affectation of superiority annoyed his associates, and his reputation for meanness brought him sneers from everyone.
George IV. showed him almost from the first what a gulf in manners there was between them, and did not trouble about the fact that he himself was the one that lacked them. At a Levée which he held in 1821 he deliberately turned his back upon his son-in-law. The Prince did his best to carry off the matter in a dignified way; he is said not to have altered a muscle of his face, but to have approached the Duke of York, saying to him in a loud tone, “The King has thought proper to take his line, and I shall take mine.” He then left the assembly.