The Queen Without a Crown

by Catherine Curzon

Caroline of Brunswick lived a life of drama, scandal and excitement. From her sheltered early days in Brunswick to a disastrous marriage to George IV (at the time merely the Prince of Wales) and a fling with an Italian chamberlain, she did nothing by halves. She had already survived George’s attempts to blacken her name, strip her of her titles and even divorce her, and through it all, the doughty lady emerged unscathed. Darling of the people, favourite of the radicals and rallying point for those who loathed her husband, she simply refused to bend, let alone break.

Yet even the strongest bough must eventually fall.

Caroline of Brunswick by Samuel Lane

Having survived a trial in the House of Lords that threatened to end her marriage and leave her in disgrace, without rank, title or privilege, in 1821 Caroline felt unstoppable. So unstoppable, in fact, that she decided to join the estranged husband who hated her at his Westminster Abbey coronation. Here the queen would be crowned, the crowd would cheer and Caroline would once and for all trounce George IV on his biggest of big days.

The whole of Great Britain knew that George was due to be crowned at Westminster Abbey on 19th July 1821, and it was going to be the biggest party the country had ever seen. He was determined that Caroline would not be there; she was determined that she would. Whether he liked it or not, she was set on having her moment in the spotlight.

Caroline, or rather her advisors, had always been masters of judging the public mood. Yet this time, the queen misread the atmosphere in the streets catastrophically. Though the public had always supported her in her battles with George, her victory in the Lords was old news by now. Instead, as the people of Britain weathered the long, cold winter and waited keenly for the summer to come, they were looking forward to the Coronation party, which promised to be the knees up to end all knees ups. As far as they were concerned, she had a home in Italy and with her husband’s efforts to divorce her exhausted, they began to wonder why she simply didn’t just go home and enjoy the £50,000 annuity Parliament had granted her. Could it be, the people wondered, that Caroline liked the limelight a little too much?

As the king’s Carlton House team went on the PR offensive, Caroline’s own advisors began to distance themselves from what was becoming a toxic situation. Lord Brougham, her chief advisor, told Caroline that she must not go to Westminster Abbey at any cost. He warned her that the public didn’t want it, and that, if she wanted to stay in their favour, the best approach was one of humility.

Caroline was having none of it.

Instead, she wrote to George IV to tell him that she would be there for her crowning. She requested that he let her know what he would like her to wear and asked for a retinue of ladies to assist her in preparing for the big day.

“The Queen from circumstances being obliged to remain in England, she requests the King will be pleased to command those Ladies of the first Rank his Majesty may think most proper in this Realms, to attend the Queen on the day of the Coronation, of which her Majesty is informed is now fixed, and also to name such Ladies which will be required to bear her Majesty's Train on that day. 

The Queen being particularly anxious to submit to the good Taste of his Majesty most earnestly entreats the King to inform the Queen in what Dress the King wishes the Queen to appear in, on that day, at the Coronation. Caroline R.”¹

Needless to say, George didn’t reply. Instead, he passed the letter to Lord Liverpool, the prime minster who was no fan of Caroline. He informed the hopeful lady that she wasn't welcome and should keep her distance. With Liverpool’s warning echoing his own, Brougham redoubled his efforts to keep her from the Coronation. Even the press joined in the chorus of disapproval and begged Caroline to heed the words of the politician who had, so far, not failed her. Brougham’s sound guidance in the Lords had saved her from divorce and disgrace, could he now save her from national embarrassment?

Alas, no.

Henry Brougham by Thomas Lawrence

Brougham knew from the start that Caroline wouldn’t be dissuaded from her planned path, it meant so much to her to score a victory over George. Still, Brougham did all he could to dissuade her, yet she refused to accept that “the public feeling would not go along with her”². Still, he wrote with an almost audible sigh, “having an order, she could not be stopt when she insisted upon it”³. So on 19th July 1821, Caroline sallied forth at six o’clock in the morning, determined to get into the Coronation.

Accompanied by the gallant and well-meaning Lord Hood, Caroline strode from door to door at Westminster Abbey attempting to gain admission. At each door she was turned away until, finally, one of the doors was literally slammed shut in her face. It was a humiliation like she had never known before, and as the crowd that had once cheered her now booed and jeered, one can only imagine what must have been going through Caroline’s head. 

Still she persisted until one of the exasperated doorkeepers told her that admission was by ticket only, regardless of who she was, queen or no queen. Trying to make the best of a bad situation Lord Hood offered Caroline his own ticket so that she might at least see the procession, but she declined, unable to bear such a humiliation. When he made the kind offer Lord Hood heard, “some persons within the porch of the Abbey laughed, and uttered some expressions of disrespect.”⁴. He was mortified and Caroline, plunged into despair, had no choice but to flee.

“She flinched,” wrote Brougham, “for the first time in her life”⁵, and it was the beginning of a swift end for Caroline of Brunswick.

From her rooms in Brandenburgh House the crownless queen Caroline continued to stir up trouble, but to no avail. A letter to the Archbishop of Canterbury requesting “to be crowned some days after the King, and before the arrangements were done away with, so that there might be no additional expense”⁶ was met with a polite but firm rebuttal and one by one, her remaining allies deserted her.

George IV by Thomas Lawrence

Caroline fell ill with stomach pains in late July and her doctors diagnosed an obstruction of the bowel. Her attempts to self-medicate with opiates made matters worse and as the days passed, her condition grew ever weaker. She became convinced that her death was drawing near and requested one final meeting with Brougham, at which she told him,“I shall not recover; and I am much better dead, for I be tired of this life”⁷.

Caroline of Brunswick, the uncrowned queen, died just after ten o’clock on the evening of 7th August 1821.

“Yesterday evening, at twenty-five minutes after ten o’clock, the QUEEN departed this life after a short but painful illness, at Brandenburgh House, at Hammersmith.”⁸

Her last wish was to be taken back to her homeland of Brunswick and buried alongside her family. She envisaged a coffin bearing a plate that stated this was the last resting place of the injured queen of England. George IV ordered the minimum period of mourning possible for his late wife, and though he was happy to see her body leave England for Brunswick, her coffin was notably free of the plate she had requested. Enormous crowds turned out to watch her final journey to the coast, mourning the death of the woman who had always provided them with entertainment, if nothing else.

In fact, when the party paused for a rest at Colchester Caroline’s supporters succeeded in fastening the controversial plate to her coffin. The triumph was short lived, and when the procession began again, the official plate was in place once more.

Lord Brougham wrote that the crowds who gathered to watch the procession pass moved him deeply. Though her final weeks had been unhappy, Caroline had not been deserted by her public after all. Mourned, celebrated and notorious, Caroline of Brunswick might be dead, but she would never, ever be forgotten.

Footnotes

1. Melville, Lewis (1912), An Injured Queen, Caroline of Brunswick: Vol I. London: Hutchinson & Co, p.542.

2. Brougham, Henry (1871), The Life and Times of Henry, Lord Brougham, Vol II. Edinburgh: William Blackwood and Sons, p.422.

3. Ibid.

4. Urban, Sylvanus (1821). The Gentleman's Magazine: 1821, Volume 91, Part 2. London: John Nichols and Son, p.74.

5. Brougham, Henry (1871), The Life and Times of Henry, Lord Brougham, Vol II. Edinburgh: William Blackwood and Sons, p.422.

6. Nightingale, Joseph (1822). Memoirs of the Last Days of Her Late Most Gracious Majesty Caroline, Queen of Great Britain. London: J Robins & Co, p.516.

7. Brougham, Henry (1871), The Life and Times of Henry, Lord Brougham, Vol II. Edinburgh: William Blackwood and Sons, p.423.

8. The Morning Post (London, England), Thursday, August 09, 1821; Issue 15725, p.3.

All images courtesy Wikipedia

Further reading

Anonymous. A Brief Account of the Coronation of His Majesty, George IV. London: D Walther, 1821. 

Brougham, Henry. The Critical and Miscellaneous Writings of Henry Lord Brougham. London: Lea & Blanchard, 1841.

Brougham, Henry. The Life and Times of Henry, Lord Brougham, Vol II. Edinburgh: William Blackwood and Sons, 1871.

Chapman, Frederic (trans.). A Queen of Indiscretions, The Tragedy of Caroline of Brunswick, Queen of England. London: John Lane, 1897.

Chapman, Hester W. Caroline Matilda, Queen of Denmark, 1751-75. London: Cape, 1971.

David, Saul. Prince of Pleasure. New York: Grove Press, 2000.

Fraser, Flora. The Unruly Queen: The Life of Queen Caroline. Edinburgh: A&C Black, 2012.

Gossip, Giles. Coronation Anecdotes. London: Robert Jennings, 1828.

Hibbert, Christopher. George IV. London: Penguin, 1998.

Huish, Robert. Memoirs of George the Fourth: Vol I. London: Thomas Kelly, 1830.

Huish, Robert. Memoirs of Her Late Majesty Caroline, Queen of Great Britain. London: T Kelly, 1821.

Melville, Lewis, An Injured Queen, Caroline of Brunswick: Vol I. London: Hutchinson & Co, 1912.

Nightingale, Joseph, Memoirs of Her Late Majesty Queen Caroline. London: J Robins and Company, 1821.

Nightingale, Joseph. Memoirs of the Last Days of Her Late Most Gracious Majesty Caroline, Queen of Great Britain, and Consort of King George the Fourth. London: J Robins and Company, 1822.

Nightingale, Joseph. Memoirs of the Public and Private Life of Her Most Gracious Majesty Caroline, Queen of Great Britain. London: J Robins & Co, 1820.

Richardson, Joanne. The Disastrous Marriage. London: Jonathan Cape, 1960.

Robins, Jane. The Trial of Queen Caroline: The Scandalous Affair that Nearly Ended a Monarchy. New York: Simon and Schuster, 2006.

Smith, EA. George IV. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1999.

Wilkins, William Henry. The Love of an Uncrowned Queen. London: Hutchinson & Co, 1900.

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Catherine Curzon is a royal historian. She is the author of Life in the Georgian Court, Kings of Georgian Britain, and Queens of Georgian Britain (October 2017). 

Her work has been featured online by BBC History Magazine and in Explore History, All About History, History of Royals and Jane Austen’s Regency World. She has provided research for An Evening with Jane Austen at the V&A and spoken at venues including the Royal Pavilion, Lichfield Guildhall, Greenwich National Maritime Museum and Dr Johnson’s House. This year she will speak at the Stamford Georgian Festival, the Jane Austen Festival, Kenwood House and Godmersham Park. 

Her novels, The Crown Spire, The Star of Versailles, and The Mistress of Blackstairs, are available now.

Catherine holds a Master’s degree in Film and lives in Yorkshire atop a ludicrously steep hill.

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Alfred and Octavius, the Lost Princes

By Catherine Curzon

George III by Ramsay

There is much to be said for a loving home and a warm hearth, and George III was fond of both. Whatever challenges he faced in Parliament and no matter how much the government niggled and needled, George could always take comfort in his domestic life. As war raged, he took refuge in the gentle comfort of his devoted consort, Queen Charlotte, and their growing brood of children, using Richmond Lodge as a family home and commissioning a sweeping programme of renovation and repair at Windsor Castle. 

George was devoted to his children who were expected to study hard and behave in a manner befitting the offspring of the very pious king. Even so, he loved to spend time in the company of his children, playing with them and sharing with them his own favourite pastimes. They were permitted to attend the theatre and other entertainments and, behind the scenes, all seemed happy.

It would not last.

Real life was set to force its way into his family idyll in the most upsetting way and the household would never quite recover. So far, George and Charlotte had welcomed fourteen children (the last would be born in 1783) and remarkably for an eighteenth century couple, all of the children survived infancy. Tragically, that was about to change and in the space of less than twelve short months, those loving parents would lose not only one child, but two.

In the Georgian era, smallpox was a very real and present threat to the lives of everyone, whether king or pauper. The disease claimed hundreds of thousands and survivors rarely escaped devastating side effects that ranged from scars to blindness. For any parent, the news that their child had been infected would be terrifying and for the royal couple, things were no different.

Queen Charlotte by Ramsay

In 1782, George and Charlotte took the decision to have their youngest children inoculated against smallpox and by June, they no doubt rued that day. Little Alfred, the couple’s youngest son who was a full eighteen years younger than his oldest brother, fell ill not long after receiving the treatment. In order to speed his recovery he was taken to enjoy the sea air at Deal in the care of Lady Charlotte Finch, his devoted nurse.

A cheery little boy with a bright disposition, Alfred was nevertheless laid terribly low by his inoculation and began to experience smallpox-like blemishes on his face, whilst his breathing grew ever more laboured. Only when it appeared that the seaside was not working its magic was he returned to Windsor. Here he was attended by court physicians and their conclusion, when it came, was devastating.

Little Alfred would be dead within weeks.

“Yesterday morning died at the Royal Palace, Windsor, his Royal Highness Prince Alfred, their Majesties youngest son. The Queen is much affected at this domestic calamity, probably more so on account of its being the only one she has experienced after a marriage of 20 years and having been the mother of fourteen children.”1

Alfred by Gainsborough

Prince Alfred of Great Britain passed away on 20 August 1782, just a month shy of his second birthday, and the royal family were rocked by his unexpected death. Protocol did not demand official mourning for one so young but, officially or not, his parents and siblings wept for the cheerful child. He was buried at Westminster Abbey with full honours and though George and Charlotte mourned his loss, they could at least take comfort in their surviving children. The king, in particular, doted on the boy who was now his youngest son, three year old Octavius. In his darkest moments he admitted that, should Octavius have died, then he would wish himself dead too.

These were to be fateful words.

Despite Alfred’s death, it was still reckoned that inoculating the children against smallpox posed less of a risk than leaving them open to the infection so little Octavius and his best friend, five year old Princess Sophia, were given the treatment. Whilst Sophia suffered no ill effects and would live to a ripe old age, things did not go so 

Octavius by Gainsborough

The queen was pregnant with her final child when, just days after receiving the smallpox inoculation, Octavius grew terribly ill. Unlike Alfred, whose sickness progressed over time, Octavius declined with alarming speed and died on 3 May 1783. The king was beyond devastated, tormented to distraction by grief and as the situation in America neared its endgame, George was perhaps lower than he had ever been.

“On Saturday, on the Majesties arriving at Kew, in their way to Windsor, and finding Prince Octavius in a dangerous Way, they determined to stay there all Night and sent an Express to Windsor to acquaint the Attendants of the Reason of their continuing there.

The same Night died at Kew, his Royal Highness Prince Octavius, his Majesty’s youngest Son, in the fifth Year of his Age.”2

The king brooded on the loss of his children, wondering whether their inoculation against smallpox had contributed to their early deaths. Where once there had been the laughter of infants, the gentle distraction offered when Charlotte and George played adoringly with the youngsters, now there was only silence and grief, the royal household plunged into sadness. A little respite came with the birth of Princess Amelia in August of that same year and George showered her with love, filling the void where his sons had been with the cheer of this new daughter. Little Amelia, or Emily, as she was known, lived through childhood but years later it would be her death that was to have a catastrophic effect on the father who adored her.

Sources

1. London Chronicle (London, England), August 20, 1782 - August 22, 1782; issue 4014, p.1.

2. Daily Advertiser (London, England), Monday, May 5, 1783; issue 17249, p.1.

Bibliography

Anonymous. George III: His Court and Family, Vol I. London: Henry Colburn and Co, 1821.

Black, Jeremy. George III: America’s Last King. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2008.

Craig, William Marshall. Memoir of Her Majesty Sophia Charlotte of Mecklenburg Strelitz, Queen of Great Britain. Liverpool: Henry Fisher, 1818.

David, Saul. Prince of Pleasure. New York: Grove Press, 2000.

Hadlow, Janice. The Strangest Family: The Private Lives of George III, Queen Charlotte and the Hanoverians. London: William Collins, 2014.

Hibbert, Christopher. George III: A Personal History. London: Viking, 1998.

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Glorious Georgian ginbag, gossip and gadabout Catherine Curzon, aka Madame Gilflurt, is the author of A Covent Garden Gilflurt’s Guide to Life. When not setting quill to paper, she can usually be found gadding about the tea shops and gaming rooms of the capital or hosting intimate gatherings at her tottering abode. In addition to her blog and Facebook, Madame G is also quite the charmer on Twitter. Her first book, Life in the Georgian Court, is available now, and she can be seen performing in An Evening with Jane Austen, starring Adrian Lukis and Caroline Langrishe, at Gloucester Cathedral on 22nd October.

A little-known glimpse into the court of George III

by Jacqueline Reiter


The court of George III has been well depicted in sources such as the diary of Fanny Burney and Horace Walpole. During my research for my book, however, a simple Google search turned up an unexpected and amazing find.

The Hon. Georgiana Townshend was the eldest child of Thomas Townshend, 1st Viscount Sydney (he for whom Sydney, Australia is named). Georgiana's younger sister Mary married the subject of my book, John Pitt, 2nd Earl of Chatham. Their mother, Lady Sydney, and their aunt, the Countess of Courtown, were both Ladies in Waiting to George III's consort Queen Charlotte.

Mary, Countess of Courtown (Wikigallery.org)

The Townshends were thus very much at the forefront of court life, and the eldest Townshend girls virtually grew up at court, making friends with the older princesses.

The three eldest daughters of George III: the Princess Royal, Princess Augusta, and Princess Elizabeth (Wikimedia Commons)

My discovery was a stash of letters sent by Georgiana to Mrs Catherine Stapleton, who lived in Somerset as the companion of Mary's mother-in-law the Dowager Countess of Chatham. Everybody and their dog wrote to Mrs Stapleton (she was a spinster, and the "Mrs" was purely a title of respect) but hardly any letters survive. In the mid-19th century, however, a family member published the life of Mrs Stapleton's nephew and literary executor, Lord Combermere. The biography included a large selection of letters, and buried among them were Georgiana Townshend's. To my joy, there were even a small handful of letters from Georgiana's sister Mary.

They are, unfortunately, heavily edited. Even more unfortunately, when I finally managed to track down the original letters (they are, in all places, at the National Army Museum in London) I discovered Lord Combermere's 19th century family had snipped them up and pasted a number of them on card. There is enough, however, to give a wonderful and intimate portrait of Georgiana and of her insight into the late 18th century royal family.

Queen Charlotte (Wikimedia Commons)

The correspondence opens in the summer of 1789, when George III was at Weymouth recovering from his previous year's attack of "madness" (probably porphyria). Georgiana was in attendance:

"The night before last the King went into the warm sea-bath for the first time, was remarkably well yesterday, in high spirits &c ... I had the honor of losing my money [at the Princess Royal's] last night at Commerce; we had three tables there again ... We were seven, Princess Royal, two Lady Waldegraves, Lady M[ary] Howe, Lord Loudoun, Colonel Gwynne, & myself ... The Queen was so good as to do me the honor of whipping me yesterday evening as I was looking attentively at some plants Princess Augusta was showing me, her good dear Majesty came slyly behind & corrected me. I started round, and to my astonishment saw the Queen, she laughed and said, 'I believe you never was whipped by a Queen before,' which, to be sure, was pretty true."

Depiction of a royal visit to the fleet (1773) (Wikimedia Commons)

In another letter, Georgiana accompanied the Royal Family aboard some ships:

"We sallied forth about six o'clock in five ten-oared boats, (belonging to the Magnificent, a 74 just arrived in Portland Road for His Majesty's use) ... The sea was very calm; we had several other boats to look at us, one with a band of musick, & the numbers of people upon the Point, & everywhere where they could see us, huzzaing, made it a most delightfull scene. ... The ladies all went up [into the ship] in the chair. I never saw so ridiculous an appearance in all my life; it entertained the King very much, he laughed very heartily at my arrival ... He stood to watch us all. They were all vastly pleased with the ships; the Princesses had never seen one before."

A few letters on, Georgiana touches on the French émigrés flocking to England after the beginning of the French revolution. She's not sympathetic:

"We swarm here still with French. I wish the Duchess of Gordon had not had any at her assembly, or soirée as she calls it; she had only two, but one was a fine lady, & the other a fine gentleman; those I am sure we have no business with ... Those that are really objects of compassion would not be inclined to figure away at an assembly ... A great many are aristocrats in France, but are hand in glove with our Opposition. I have no patience with their being received as they are ... One hears French all round one at every assembly. I hate the sight of them."

The Prince of Wales (Wikimedia Commons)

Then there's gossip about, erm, the Prince of Wales:

"There were several men very drunk that made it very disagreable so we came away, there was one worse than all rest … he … was most beastly drunk indeed, you may guess who I mean ye first in company but quite otherwise in behaviour [the Prince of Wales] he was drinking with all the Regimental band that was there, & was at least carried out speachless [sic], one of our servants who was there said he never saw such a sight in his life, people were getting upon chairs & tables to look at him till they absolutely gave way, … I never heard anything like it, he sung & hallowed until he lost his voice."

Georgiana's sister Lady Chatham had a few things to say about Court protocol. She had introduced Mrs Stapleton's nieces to the Queen, and made a small observation on the inconvenience of Court fashion:

"The feathers in the Q[ueen]'s face is what now always happens with all the young Ladies who kiss her hand, for in the way in which they now wear them, it is unavoidable, tho' the Q[ueen] leans as back as she can. To be sure it annoys her, but she's always good humoured to young Ladies."

"A Modern Belle", James Gillray (Wikimedia Commons)

(I can only imagine the scene.)

There is plenty more where these came from -- more, in fact, than I had time to take down before I was forced to return home. Georgiana was quite the gossip, and I suspect what survives is only a small proportion of what she wrote. But it makes for an interesting and fresh view into a well-worn subject. I wonder what other untapped sources are out there waiting to be discovered?


References

Quotations come from The Memoirs and Correspondence of Field-Marshal Viscount Combermere... vol. II (London, 1866) and the National Army Museum Combermere MSS 8408-114


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Jacqueline Reiter has a Phd in 18th century political history. Her first book, The Late Lord: the life of John Pitt, 2nd Earl of Chatham, will be published by Pen & Sword Books in January 2017. When she finds time she blogs about her historical discoveries at http://thelatelord.com/, and can be found on Twitter as https://twitter.com/latelordchatham.