"Yes, your grace—that madness which is, alas! hereditary," replied the countess solemnly. "But George the Third had many—many domestic afflictions. Oh! if you knew all, you would not be surprised that he had lost his reason! The profligacy of some of his children—most of them—was alone sufficient to turn his brain. Many of those instances of profligacy have transpired; and although the public have not been able to arrive at any positive proofs respecting the matters, I can nevertheless assure your grace that such proofs are in existence—and in my possession!"
"Your ladyship once before hinted as much to me; and I must confess that without having any morbid inclination for vulgar scandal, I feel some curiosity in respect to those matters."
"Some day I will place in your hand papers of a fearful import, in connexion with the Royal Family," returned the countess. "Your grace will then perceive that profligacy the most abandoned—crimes the most heinous—vices the most depraved, characterised nearly all the children of George the Third. There is one remarkable fact relative to that prince's marriage with Hannah Lightfoot. The Royal Marriage Act was not passed until thirteen years after this union, and could not therefore set it aside; and yet Hannah Lightfoot was still living when the prince espoused Charlotte Sophia Princess of Mecklenburgh Strelitz in 1761."
"Is this possible?" exclaimed the duchess, profoundly surprised.
"It is possible—it is true!" said the countess emphatically. "In 1772 the Royal Marriage Act[[25]] was passed, and provided that no member of the Royal Family should contract a marriage without the sovereign's consent. This measure was enacted for several reasons; but principally because the King's two brothers had formed private matrimonial connexions,—the Duke of Cumberland with Mrs. Horton, a widow—and the Duke of Gloucester with the widow of the Earl of Waldegrave."
"The act certainly appears to me most cruel and oppressive," said the duchess; "inasmuch as it interferes with the tenderest affections and most charming of human sympathies—feelings which royalty has in common with all the rest of mankind."
"I cordially agree with your grace," observed the countess. "The law is barbarous—monstrous—revolting; and its evil effects were evidenced by almost every member of the family of George the Third. In the first place, the Prince of Wales (afterwards George the Fourth) was privately united to Mrs. Fitzherbert, at the house of that lady's uncle, Lord Sefton. Fox, Sheridan, and Burke were present at the ceremony, in addition to my mother and several relations of the bride. Mr. Fox handed her into the carriage; and the happy pair proceeded to Richmond, where they passed a week or ten days. Queen Charlotte was made acquainted with the marriage: she sent for her son, and demanded an explanation. The prince avowed the truth. Your grace has, of course, read the discussion which took place in connexion with this subject, in the House of Commons, in 1787. Mr. Rolle, the member for Devonshire, mysteriously alluded to the union: Mr. Fox rose up, and denied it; but from that day forth Mrs. Fitzherbert never spoke to Fox again. Sheridan let the truth escape him:—he said, 'A lady who has been alluded to, is without reproach, and is entitled to the truest and most general respect.' How would Mrs. Fitzherbert have been without reproach, or entitled to respect, if she were not married to the prince? But I have proofs—convincing proofs—that such an union did actually take place, although it was certainly null and void in consequence of the Marriage Act."
"It nevertheless subsisted according to the feelings and inclinations of the parties interested," said the duchess; "and it was based on honour, if on no legal principle."
"Alas!" whispered the countess, casting a rapid glance around; "the word honour must not be mentioned in connexion with the name of George the Fourth. It pains me to speak ill of the ancestors of our lovely queen: but—if we converse on the subject at all—truth must influence our observations. The entire life of George the Fourth was one of profligacy and crime. Often have I marvelled how one possessing a soul so refined as Georgiana, the beautiful Duchess of Devonshire, could have resigned herself to such a degraded voluptuary—such a low debauchee. Yet she was his Queen of Love, surrounded by her graces, who, however, bore the modern names of Craven, Windham, and Jersey."