THE KING'S CHILDREN

The trouble that George III experienced through the misdemeanours of his brothers and the misfortunes of his sisters was as nothing compared to the anxiety caused him by his children[277] and notably by his sons. Yet, bad as was the behaviour of the latter, they might well plead extenuating circumstances in the shape of their mother and father. The King could never profit by experience, and he learnt nothing from the evil results that accrued from the harsh methods employed in the nurseries of the Princess dowager, with the result that, bringing up his children on the same lines, he not unnaturally produced similar effects. The Queen, too, having none of those qualities that promote happiness in a family and tend to unite it in harmony, was not more successful as a mother than her consort as a father. "It is not surprising, therefore, that the younger members of the family longed for the day when they should be emancipated from the sober state and grim decorum of the palace. The princes rushed into the brilliant world of pleasure and excitement which awaited them with headlong impetuosity; but the less fortunate princesses were doomed to repine in their dreary captivity, longing for marriage, as the only event which could release them."[278]

Yet George was fond of his children, especially when they were young. He interested himself in their education and their pursuits; and it has been related how when he was talking with a Scotch lady about Scotland, and suddenly became absorbed in thought, "Your Majesty, I presume, is thinking about my country," said his companion. "I was entreating God," he replied, "to protect and bless my dear boys."

The daughters gave little trouble, except the Princess Royal, who, according to Mrs. Papendiek, rather set herself against the Queen. "She was incensed at her mother constantly inviting to Windsor the daughters of such families as were attached to the Government party, saying that they could not amuse the King, but only ran idly about the house, interrupting everybody; and she desired her Lady-in-waiting to say that she never received any one in the morning. Her Royal Highness now averred that she had never liked the Queen, from her excessive severity, that she had doubted her judgment on many points, and went so far as to say that she was a silly woman."[279] The hand of the Princess Charlotte was sought in 1796 by the Crown Prince of WÜrtemburg; but some delay occurred before a definite acceptance of the offer was made, as there was some mystery concerning the fate of the Crown Prince's first wife. After inquiries, however, George III expressed himself satisfied with the explanations tendered to him, and in the following year the marriage took place. The account of her farewell interview with her father shows that at least the Princess's objection to one parent did not extend to the other. "The last interview between his Majesty and his royal daughter was of the most affecting kind. The Princess hung upon her father's neck, overwhelmed in grief, and it was not until her consort urged her to close the painful scene, that she could be prevailed upon to leave her father. The affectionate parent followed her to bid her farewell, but he was so overcome by the excess of his parental feelings, that he could not give utterance to his words, and his streaming eyes looked the last blessing, which his lips could not pronounce." With her departure from England in May, 1797, this Princess passes out of English history.

There was little desire expressed by foreign Princes for an alliance with the daughters of George III, and this reluctance to marry members of the English Royal family must be attributed mainly to the knowledge of European sovereigns and their families of the malady from which the King suffered. Prince Ferdinand of WÜrtemburg, who was in the Austrian army and had distinguished himself in the taking of Belgrade from the Turks, came over in 1791 to propose a marriage with Princess Augusta, then, to quote Mrs. Papendiek, "certainly the most beautiful creature one could wish to see;" but the King refused his suit, partly because he was "two removes from the Dukedom," and partly because he would not let the younger Princesses marry before the elder.[280] Subsequently Louis Phillippe became engaged to Princess Elizabeth, but he jilted her for Marie AmÉlie, daughter of the King of Naples; and after this it looked as if all the royal ladies would become old maids. Princess Amelia escaped this fate by contracting a morganatic alliance with General Fitzroy;[281] and at the age of fifty Princess Mary married William Frederick, Duke of Gloucester, who had been held in reserve for Princess Charlotte of Wales in case no other alliance offered.

Princess Augusta and Princess Sophia remained single; but, when she was forty-eight, Princess Elizabeth conceived a passion for matrimony. Not without difficulty a parti was found for the mature lady, and on April 8, 1818, she was united to the Landgrave of Hesse-Homburg, who, according to all accounts, had an objectionable appearance and a ridiculous manner. "A monster of a man, a vulgar-looking German corporal, whose breath is a compound between tobacco and garlic; he has about £300 per annum," so Fremantle described him; but these defects did not deter the middle-aged spinster. "The Princess of Hesse-Homburg will redeem the character of good behaviour in the conjugal bonds, lost or mislaid by her family," wrote Mrs. Trench. "She is delighted with her hero, as she calls him. On his way from the scene of the marriage ceremony to the Regent's Cottage, where, to his great annoyance, they were destined to pass the first quarter of the honeymoon, he was sick, from being unused to a close carriage, and forced to leave her for the dickey, and put Baron O'Naghten in his place. He said he was not so much ennuyÉ at the Cottage as he expected, having passed all his time in his dressing-gown and slippers smoking in the conservatory."[282] The Landgrave was, indeed, a good man, kind-hearted, fond of books, and with more learning than the majority of minor German princes, and he certainly made his wife very happy. "I have so very many things to be thankful for that I ever feel I cannot do too much to prove my feelings both towards God and my excellent husband," the Landgravine wrote to Lady Harcourt on January 21, 1821. "Though I lived in a degree of magnificence and splendour whilst with my sister, I can with truth say that I was thoroughly happy to see my own dear little Homburg again." This, curiously enough, was the only happy marriage contracted by a child of George III.

"If anything can make a democracy in England, it will be the royal family,"[283] wrote Lord Minto, and no one may quarrel with this statement, nor with the lines of Shelley, in which the ruling caste in 1819 is described:

All the sons of George III were more or less wild, and all of them without exception were a source of trouble to their mother and father. Of those seven who grew up the two that caused least anxiety to their parents were Augustus, Duke of Sussex, and Adolphus, Duke of Cambridge; the latter led a quiet life in England until 1816, when he was appointed Governor of Hanover, and while there married Wilhelmina Louisa, daughter of Frederick, Landgrave of Hesse-Cassel, by whom he had three children. The former differed from all his brothers in so far that he had a taste for literature, and an affection for books. At the age of twenty he married Lady Augusta Murray and though the marriage, being contracted in defiance of the provisions of the Royal Marriage Act, was declared null and void, he did not during her lifetime contract another matrimonial alliance. After her death, however, he married Lady Cecilia Buggins (nÉe Underwood), who was subsequently created by Queen Victoria Duchess of Inverness in her own right. The Duke was of a retiring disposition, and, being happy in the library he had formed in his apartments in Kensington Palace, took no part in the political and very little share in the social life of his day.

The Duke of Clarence did not come into open conflict with the King and Queen, and his life was uneventful, with the exception of his connection with Dora Jordan and his marriage in 1818 with Adelaide, eldest daughter of the Duke of Saxe-Meiningen. The Duke of Kent, too, interested himself but little in public affairs, and lived abroad for many years with Madame St. Laurent, by whom he had twelve children. He was devoted to this lady, and was fearful lest, to assure the succession, he should be compelled to marry. Notwithstanding, he expressed his intention to do so if it should be necessary, though, he said, "God only knows the sacrifice it will be to make whenever I shall think it my duty to become a married man." Eventually he married the widow of Charles Louis, Prince of Leiningen, by whom he had issue, one daughter, Victoria.

Though George III was not on friendly terms with any of his sons, and was careful to keep them, so far as possible, out of England, it was his remaining children that caused him the most serious unhappiness. The Prince of Wales, Frederick, Duke of York, and Ernest, Duke of Cumberland, were so many thorns in the flesh.

The conduct of the Prince of Wales need here only be referred to, en passant,[284] his behaviour from first to last was marked by no degree of affection or respect for his parents, or, indeed, by any consideration of decency. From an early age, encouraged by his uncle and aunt, the Duke and Duchess of Cumberland, he plunged into debauchery of every kind. While still in his teens, his liaisons were notorious, his losses at the cardtable considerable, and his extravagance gigantic. When he came of age he threw himself into the arms of the Opposition, and soon was at open enmity with his father. What might have happened if George III had been a wise parent, or even possessed of ordinary commonsense, cannot be said, but his methods of strict repression and his want of sympathetic insight alienated his boys one by one. Even into the Journal of Mrs. Papendiek, that undiscriminating eulogiser of the King and Queen, has crept one example of the gracelessness of the monarch, when, after his illness, wine had been recommended to him in very small quantities to assist digestion. "As his Majesty had never taken it he doubted its efficacy. The Prince of Wales sent a few bottles of the finest Madeira, so he said, that the island had ever produced, and proposed tasting it with the King when the family dined at four o'clock. The King thanked his Royal Highness, but said he hoped for the credit of his gentlemen of the wine cellar, and for the pleasure of those who partook of such indulgences, that the best was always provided. For himself it would be his last treat, as he was sure it did him more harm than good."[285]

For a long time the Prince of Wales was his mother's darling, and Miss Burney has related how in 1786, "the Queen read him that paper from 'The Tatler' which gives an account of a young man of good heart and sweet disposition, who is allured by pleasure into a libertine life, which he pursues by habit, but with constant remorse and ceaseless shame and unhappiness." "It was impossible for me to miss her object," Miss Burney commented; "all the mother was in her voice while she read it, and her glistening eyes told the application made throughout."[286] But the heir-apparent had neither remorse nor shame, and his conduct wore down the love of his mother, as in course of time it dissipated the affection of everyone but Mrs. Fitzherbert, to whom he behaved as disgracefully as man may behave to woman. The Queen bore with much neglect, but even she could not pardon her dearest son's conduct when his father was suffering from the mental malady that broke out in 1788. Then the Prince, like the graceless heir he was, cared for nothing save to secure the royal power. He took the government of the Castle into his own hands and intrigued openly for an unrestricted Regency; but what affected the Queen, always jealous of her authority, was that he promptly delegated her to a second place. When Dr. Warren made his report, not to the Queen, but to the Prince of Wales, she was much upset. "I think a deeper blow I have never witnessed," Miss Burney remarked. "Already to become but second, even for the King! The tears were not wiped; indignation arose, with pain, the severest pain, of every species."[287] This hit her in her tenderest spot, her dignity was assailed, and henceforth, with brief intervals of peace following on reconciliations, she fought tooth and nail against her eldest son. In the eyes of George III his son's profligate conduct and his extravagance were terrible, but these were as trifles compared to his publication of the King's letters in 1803 after a dispute as to the heir-apparent's right to a military command. When a nobleman was complaining to the King of his heir's disgraceful conduct, "Yes," said the poor old man, "but he has never published your letters!"

The Duke of York followed in the footsteps of his elder brother, and with as good a will gambled and indulged in dissipation, a course he did not abandon after his marriage with Frederica, the eldest daughter of Frederick William II of Prussia. Sent on active service to the Netherlands, he was unsuccessful in the field, and was recalled by Pitt, much to the anger of the King,[288] who, on his return to England appointed him Commander-in-Chief, in which capacity he proved himself a capable administrator. The scandal occasioned by the sale of commissions by his mistress, Mrs. Mary Ann Clarke,[289] caused him to resign, but, after an interval, he was reinstated, and held the post until his death. He was his father's favourite son, but he found the Court so dull that he seldom stayed under the parental roof; but, though he was not a good son, he was a weak rather than a bad man, and had many amiable qualities that endeared him to a large circle of friends.

Of the private life of the Duke of Cumberland the less said the better. Scandals accumulated around him like leaves on a tree, and most of them, for example, those connected with Sellis and the birth of Colonel Garth, are too unedifying to be discussed. There was no shameless crime of which he was not believed guilty, and he was so deeply loathed by the people that had he succeeded to the throne there were many who declared his accession would be followed by a general rising.