[102] Sundon Correspondence. Bishop Hoadley to Mrs. Clayton [undated].
[103] Hervey’s Memoirs.
CHAPTER XI.
THE MARRIAGE OF THE PRINCESS ROYAL. 1733–1734.
Soon after the withdrawal of the excise scheme the King sent a message to Parliament with the news that his eldest daughter, the Princess Royal, was betrothed to the Prince of Orange. The match was not a brilliant one, for the Prince was deformed, not of royal rank, and miserably poor. But the “Prince of Orange” was still a name to be conjured with among the Whigs and the Protestant supporters of the dynasty generally, and the announcement was popular, as a further guarantee of the Protestant succession. The Government regained some of the credit they had lost over the excise scheme and Parliament willingly voted the Princess a dower of £80,000, which was double the sum ever given before to a princess of the blood royal.
The Princess Royal had no affection for her betrothed, whom she had never even seen, but she was exceedingly anxious to be married. It was said at court that the King of France had once entertained the idea of asking her hand in marriage for the Dauphin, but her grandfather, George the First, would not listen to it on account of the difference of religion. There was no evidence to support this story, and it was certain that since George the Second had ascended the throne no suitor of any importance had come forward; so that, despite his drawbacks, the Prince of Orange was the best husband that could be got. Indeed, it seemed as though it were a choice between him and no husband at all. The Prince of Wales was exceedingly indignant with his sister for getting married before him, and so obtaining a separate establishment, a thing for which he had hitherto asked in vain. He need not have envied her, for she was making a match that would satisfy neither her love nor her ambition.
The Queen showed no enthusiasm for the marriage, and the negotiations were unduly prolonged. Months passed before everything was settled, and it was November before the Prince of Orange set out for England and his intended bride. A royal yacht was sent to escort him to English shores, and, according to a journal: “The person who brought the first news of the Prince of Orange being seen off Margate was one who kept a public house there; who, upon seeing the yacht, immediately mounted his horse and rode to Canterbury, where he took post horses and came to St. James’s at eleven o’clock on Monday night. Her Majesty ordered him twenty guineas and Sir Robert Walpole five. Twenty he hath since laid out on a silver tankard, on which his Majesty’s arms are engraved.”[104]
Probably this messenger was the only person who had reason to rejoice at the arrival of the Prince of Orange. The Prince was lodged in Somerset House, and many of the nobility went to wait upon him there, hoping by paying him their court to please the King. They little knew that the King and Queen were in their hearts opposed to the match, and had only yielded to it from political exigencies, and the impossibility of finding any other suitable suitor for their daughter. The Queen sent Lord Hervey to Somerset House with orders to come back and tell her “without disguise what sort of hideous animal she was to prepare herself to see”. The Prince was not nearly so bad as he had been painted, for though he was deformed, he had a pleasant and engaging manner. The Queen seemed more interested in the appearance of the future bridegroom than the bride herself, for the Princess Royal, when she heard of the arrival of her lover, continued playing the harpsichord with some of the opera people as though nothing had happened. “For my part,” said the Queen, “I never said the least word to encourage her in this marriage or to dissuade her from it.” The King, too, left the Princess at liberty, but as she was determined to marry some one, and as the Prince, though not a crowned King, was the head of a petty state, she said that she was willing to marry him.[105] The King then remembered his duty as a father, and not too nicely warned his daughter of the Prince’s physical unattractiveness, but she said she was resolved, if he were a baboon, to marry him. “Well, then, marry him,” retorted the King in a huff, “and you’ll have baboon enough I warrant you.”
The wedding was arranged to take place immediately after the arrival of the bridegroom elect, but as ill-luck would have it the Prince fell sick of a fever, and for some months lay dangerously ill. During the whole time of his sickness none of the Royal Family went to visit him, or took any notice of him, by command of the King, who wished to inculcate the doctrine that before his marriage to the Princess the Prince of Orange was nobody, and could only become somebody through alliance with the Royal Family. The Prince, though he must have felt this neglect, behaved with great good sense, and as soon as he was able to go out, he went to St. James’s Palace to pay his respects as if nothing had happened. He had an interview with his future bride, and stayed to dinner with the princesses informally. When the King heard of it he was very angry, and forbade them to receive him any more without his permission. The occasion did not arise, for a few days later the Prince of Orange went to Bath for a cure, and did not return to London until a fortnight before his wedding.
The marriage took place on March 14th, 1734. The Princess Royal, who had maintained an impassive front throughout her engagement, neither evincing pleasure at the Prince’s arrival, nor sorrow at his illness, showed the same impassive demeanour at her wedding. The ceremony took place at night in the Chapel Royal, St. James’s. A covered gallery of wood was built outside, through which the procession had to pass. This gallery gave great offence to old Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough, who could see it from her windows of Marlborough House. It had been erected when the wedding was first settled to take place, four months before, and she was indignant at its being left standing so long. “I wonder,” she said, “when neighbour George will remove his orange chest.” On the night of the wedding, the “orange chest” was illuminated from end to end, and accommodated four thousand people who were favoured with tickets to see the processions pass. At seven o’clock in the evening the bridegroom with his attendants was waiting in the great council chamber of St. James’s, the bride with her ladies was ready in the great drawing-room, and the King and Queen, with the rest of the Royal Family were assembled in the smaller drawing-room. Three processions were then marshalled, that of the bridegroom, that of the bride, and that of the King and Queen. The Chapel Royal was upholstered for the occasion more like a theatre than a place of worship, being hung with velvet, gold and silver tissue, fringes, tassels, gilt lustres, and so forth. The Prince of Orange was magnificently clad in gold and silver, and as he wore a long wig that flowed down his back and concealed his figure, he made a more presentable appearance than was expected. The Princess Royal was also gorgeously attired; she wore a robe of silver tissue, and her ornaments included a necklace of twenty-two immense diamonds; her train, which was six yards long, was supported by ten bridesmaids, the daughters of dukes and earls, who were also clad in silver tissue. The Queen and her younger daughters were visibly affected during the ceremony, and could not restrain their tears at the sacrifice they considered the Princess was making. The King, who had shown himself very restive before the wedding, behaved very well on the day, but the Prince of Wales, though he was tolerably civil to the bridegroom, could not bring himself to be cordial to the bride.
At twelve o’clock, the Prince and Princess of Orange supped in public with the Royal Family, and after the banquet, which lasted two hours, came the most curious part of the ceremony. The English Court had borrowed a custom from Versailles, and a most trying one it must have been for the bride and bridegroom. As soon as the Prince and Princess of Orange had retired, the whole court were admitted to see them sitting up in bed—that is to say, the courtiers passed through the room and made obeisance. The bridegroom, now that he had doffed his fine clothes and peruke, did not look his best, but the bride maintained her self-possession, even under this ordeal. Referring next morning to the sight of the princely pair in bed, the Queen exclaimed: “Ah! mon Dieu! quand je voiois entrer ce monstre pour coucher avec ma fille, j’ai pensé m’évanouir; je chancelois auparavant, mais ce coup là m’a assommée.”