They were by no means alone, the whole houseparty being assembled, all of whom were astounded to hear their Monarch say in loud, harsh accents that he had just come from Kensington, where he had found that a most unwarrantable liberty had been taken. Someone had possessed themselves of apartments not only without his consent, but against his expressed commands, and he ended up with, “he neither understood nor would endure conduct so disrespectful to himself.”
What happened further we are not told, but there can be no doubt that all through this very trying evening the Duchess of Kent behaved with perfect dignity; she might be wanting in politeness privately, but publicly nothing upset her control. Adolphus Fitzclarence was present, and sat within two or three of the Duchess at the dinner, thus he heard plainly all that was said. A little later he fully retailed the scandal to Greville. He says that on the Sunday morning the King had by no means got over his excitement, which lasted more or less through the day. At dinner, though this was supposed to be a family function, at least a hundred people were present, either belonging to the Court or gathered from the neighbourhood. On one side of the King sat the Duchess of Kent, directly opposite him was Princess Victoria next the Queen. Everything went well until the time of speeches arrived, and the first health to be proposed was naturally that of His Majesty. At that this incomparably tactless King got upon his feet and straightway began to express all the anger he felt. The part particularly interesting to the Duchess ran:—
“I trust in God that my life may be spared for nine months longer, after which period, in the event of my death, no Regency would take place. I should then have the satisfaction of leaving the Royal authority to the personal exercise of that young lady (pointing to the Princess), the heiress presumptive to the Crown, and not in the hands of a person now near me, who is surrounded by evil advisers and who is herself incompetent to act with propriety in the station in which she would be placed. I have no hesitation in saying that I have been insulted—grossly insulted—by that person, but I am determined to endure no longer a course of behaviour so disrespectful to me. Amongst other things, I have particularly to complain of the manner in which that young lady has been kept away from my Court; she has been repeatedly kept from my Drawing Rooms, at which she ought always to have been present, but I am fully resolved that this shall not happen again. I would have her know that I am King, and I am determined to make my authority respected, and for the future I shall insist and command that the Princess do upon all occasions appear at my Court, as it is her duty to do.”
It is said that His Majesty finished his tirade by speaking of the Princess in a fatherly and affectionate way, saying that though he had seen so little of her, he took no less interest in her, and the more he saw of her in public and in private the greater pleasure it would be to him.
Before he had got to this, however, the Princess was crying, the Queen looked terribly distressed, and the whole company sat aghast, their eyes on the table. When a dead silence fell after this awful philippic, all must have wondered what was to happen next, but the Duchess, who had more sense than her assailant, uttered no word, and the Queen gave the signal for retiring. Then we are told that the Duchess had her say, and that there was an awful scene between the pair; she ordered her carriage, but all concerned did their best to change her determination of going from the Castle at once, and some sort of a reconciliation ensued.
The King might relent, might change his mind or forget things, but he does not seem ever to have repented his foolish deeds. Thus the next day he asked Adolphus what everyone said of his speech, and that young man made a diplomatic answer, saying that though everyone thought the Duchess merited his rebuke, it ought not to have been given at his own table before a hundred people; he ought to have sent for her to his closet, and said all he felt and thought there. To which William answered that he did not care where or before whom he said what he thought, and that, “by God, he had been insulted by her in a measure that was past all endurance, and he would stand it no longer.”
What a terrible exhibition of inhospitality and bad taste! Yet we have to realise that the King had been much provoked, and, being the man of severe limitations that he was, he took the only course which occurred to him. There can be no doubt that a real affection existed between William and his niece, that he knew that but a small span of life remained to him, and that he was constantly refused the society and the sight of his successor. Though the autocratic Duchess had married into the Guelph family, she never seemed to understand the exceedingly primitive characters of the people who composed that family, or, if she did understand them, she gave them little credit for their virtues, but recognised to the full all their sins of omission and commission.
A slight instance of the small way in which she annoyed them is given in the “Tales of My Father,” already referred to. The Duchess of Cumberland sent an aide-de-camp to the Duchess of Kent with a message about the illness of young George. When the young man had told Her Royal Highness all that she wished to know, she invited him to dine and stay the night. His answer was that he could not do so, as he had no leave, and the Duke was most particular on that point.
“I will manage all that!” the Duchess haughtily replied. “I should like to present you to the Princess Victoria.” So a message was sent to the Duke of Cumberland that the captain had been commanded to remain at Kensington, with the result that the next morning a letter arrived for the guest from the Duke, informing him that his business was to look after Prince George, not to be nursery governess to Princess Victoria; that he had slept out of St. James’s without leave; and that if he did not come back at once he would be put under arrest. In this there was no deference shown to the will of the Duchess, nothing but annoyance expressed at the excess of hospitality to his messenger.
After that terrible birthday party the Duchess stayed for yet another dinner at the Castle, and it seems that she was somewhat long in entering the drawing-room the second evening. The Queen would not go in without her, which caused William loudly to demand the whereabouts of his wife. When he was told that she was waiting for the Duchess, he said just as loudly: