The Jilting Princess...

by M.M. Bennetts

Yes, she was a princess.  And yes, she had to marry for reasons of state rather than solely based on her personal fancy, but Princess Charlotte (1796-1817), daughter of the Prince Regent and Caroline of Brunswick was no pawn--kind of more the opposite...

Bearing in mind that at the time when ministers of state, and latterly her parents, were scanning the horizon for suitable royal consorts for her, the Napoleonic wars were heading towards, they hoped, a close.  Whilst at the same time, the remaining heads of state--those which had survived--were wondering how best to restore order to Europe and reinstate legitimate government (read monarchies) to those countries which Napoleon had annexed to France.  So the task of choosing a royal mate was a little more complex than usual.

Nevertheless, in 1812, the government hit upon a plan.  Wouldn't it be perfect if Princess Charlotte were to marry William of Orange?  He was of an age with Charlotte, not too old nor too young, he'd seen active service in the Peninsula, so he was a dashing military hero and he was a Protestant (a necessity). What could be better? 

William of Orange had been raised in exile in England (so he spoke English!), he'd spent two years at Oxford,and from 1811, he served in the Peninsula under Wellington by whom he was known as 'Slender Billy'.

Perhaps he wasn't great looking, but he was known to be amiable, there had been another hugely successful marriage between a Prince of Orange and an English princess...And, bliss of blisses, someday he would rule the Netherlands--so through him and any children they might have, Britain would regain a toehold on the Continent, moreover a toehold that was right across the North Sea, thus securing the sea lanes to the Baltic.  It was ideal!

There was only one problem:  Princess Charlotte.

Because you see, in the autumn of 1812, she had conceived a rather violent passion for a Captain Charles Hesse of the 18th Hussars, and whilst at Windsor had gone out riding with him every day.

And after that, she'd been meeting with him secretly at her mother's home in Kensington, where her mother, helpfully, would "let him into her own apartment by a door that opens onto Kensington Gardens...[then] leave them together in her own bedroom, [with the words] 'A present, je vous laisse, amusez vous'."  [For the moment I'm leaving you, amuse yourselves...]

As may you appreciate, when the Prince Regent discovered, he was incandescent with rage.

And Charlotte was pretty much locked away with a new governess and with very little company.  As the Prince said with some feeling (and almost in echo of Austen's Mr. Bennet):  "I know all that passed in Windsor Park; and if it were not for my clemency I would have shut you up for life.  Depend upon it, as long as I live you shall never have an establishment, unless you marry."  

Hence, when the proposed match with William was put to Princess Charlotte in February 1813, she was not keen.  As she said of him, "I think him so ugly, that I am sometimes obliged to turn my head away in disgust when he is speaking to me."  (Ouch!)  But the idea did eventually take hold--marriage would allow her her own establishment and financial independence.  And the princess was already in debt to the tune of £22,000.  (Over a million pounds in today's money.)

The Prince Regent was delighted and held a dinner at his home at Carlton House so that the two might meet on 11 December, and Charlotte was enjoined to give her father her "fair and undisguised opinion".  After the usual fits and starts, by the end of the evening, Charlotte told her father, "I like his manner very well, as much as I ever have seen of it."

The Prince Regent was rapturous.  Charlotte would later speak of the whole thing as "a dream".

Then, in early April, having been fought to a standstill in France, Napoleon abdicated.  Then followed another remarkable bit of news:  for the first time in centuries European royalty were to visit England!  Caught up in the euphoria of the moment, in early May, the government announced the intended marriage between Charlotte and William, the Hereditary Prince of Orange (who suddenly had a throne again!)...

William himself had already arrived in Britain, ahead of the other European princes--Tsar Alexander and Kaiser Wilhelm and their entourages.  But then, a spoke appeared in the marital-diplomatic wheel--the Grand Duchess Catherine, the Tsar's confidante and sister, who allegedly had designs on William herself--or rather Russia also wanted a toehold in western Europe.

The visit of the crowned heads that June offered an opportunity for endless rounds of parties, balls, dinners and diplomacy, but Princess Charlotte was not invited.  Instead, she remained cooped up in her residence at Warwick House, next door to Carlton House, sequestered away from the fun, even as Grand Duchess Catherine worked on her, visiting, taking tea, souring whatever remained of Charlotte's affection for Slender Billy--especially by recounting just what her fiance was getting up to.

While Charlotte was locked away, William was repeatedly getting drunk, attending all the social events, having a whale of a time...when he'd gone to the Ascot Races, he'd returned to London hanging off the outside of a stage coach.

And there was one other looming problem.  Where would the young couple live?  Charlotte feared that if she  left the country and her father obtained a divorce as he wished to do, her father might remarry and produce a new heir.  And where would that leave Charlotte?  So the demand made in the proposed marriage settlement that she should spend some time with her husband in the Netherlands, as she put it, "living in Holland amongst the fogs and dykes", each year proved the final straw.

(Though it's also said that she'd been secretly seeing the Prussian king's nephew, Prince Frederick, who was said to be very handsome and she was much enamoured...)

Charlotte therefore requested that William pay her a visit on 16 June.  Their consultation together ended with Charlotte's "positive declaration that she will not leave England now..."  And later that evening, Charlotte wrote to William informing him that she was jilting him, that their engagement was "to be totally and for ever at an end".

It was a public humiliation for William...and initially, it didn't work out so well for Charlotte either...though later, she did marry the rather spiffing Prince Leopold of Saxe-Coburg and he was her choice.

This is an Editor's Choice post, originally published April 23 2013

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M.M. Bennetts was one of the driving forces behind teh EHFA blog and contributed many wonderful posts before her early demise some years ago. She was a specialist in early 19th century European history and the Napoleonic wars, and the author of two novels, May 1812 and Of Honest Fame set during the period.  

Women's Periodicals During the Regency: Ackermann's

by Lauren Gilbert

When the name Ackermann's comes to mind, the first thing one thinks of is the fashion plate, the beautifully drawn illustration of the current mode.  However, there was so much more than that...

Rudolph Ackermann published Repository of Arts, Literature, Commerce, Manufactures, Fashions and Politics  (also known as Ackermann's Repository)  in London beginning in 1809 as a monthly periodical.

Originally, this periodical was much more than a fashion magazine.  As its title indicates, each month, the reader was treated to a selection of articles about a wide variety of subjects, ranging from art and architecture, to domestic issues (including needlework patterns and home furnishings), biographical sketches of historical or current figures, reviews of books and art exhibitions, and all manner of things. Even political matters were explored.  Fashion was only one of many subjects addressed in these early magazines.

It was a very influential magazine, providing women with information about many topics, not just domestic matters.Women's buying power was also acknowledged, in that there were product advertisements, not only for cosmetics (such as Gowland's Lotion) but for larger purchases as well, such as furniture like the patent pianoforte advertised in 1812, shown here.

I took the opportunity to browse through the Repository of Arts, Literature, Fashions, Manufactures, &c.  The SecondSeries Vol. II July 1, 1816 No. VII.  Articles included information about architecture (A Gothic Conservatory and the new Customs House were the focus in this edition), saloon draperies, a needle-work pattern (a design for muslin), instructions on how to dye various fabrics certain colors from The Domestic Commonplace Book, poetry and short stories.  Under "Miscellanies", there was a fascinating article titled "Some Particulars Illustrative of the Character of Prince Leopold of Saxe-Coburg."  The fashion items appeared later in the periodical, and discussed English and French fashion issues.   The illustration below is from 1811 issue, and is very typical of the lovely and detailed fashion drawings that appear in every edition:

February 1811 Fur Pelisse

These illustrations and the very detailed descriptions provided were intended to keep women abreast of the current modes, and also to provide dressmakers with the information needed to replicate them.

The periodical ceased operations in 1829.  By that year, it was known as Ackermann's Repository of Fashion and was dedicated primarily to fashion and needlework. 

A quick review of Ackermann's Repository of Fashions, No. I January, 1829 Price 2s shows the beautiful fashion plates, with detailed descriptions and a needlework pattern.  The February 1829 edition includes masquerade costumes and "General Observations on Parisian Fashions", as well as a needlework pattern.  

Considering that, by this time, there was already a shift towards the mores and values we associate with the Victorian period, including the idea that a woman's place was in the home, no longer encouraged to take an interest in matters such as politics, the change in content is significant. 

Suggested reading list:
Blum, Stella, ed.  ACKERMANN'S COSTUME PLATES Women's Fashions in England, 1818-1828.  New York, Dover Publications, Inc. 1978.

On line via GoogleBooks:
The Repository of Arts, Literature, Fashions, Manufactures, &c.  The Second Series. Vol. II July 1 1816 No. VII  (found in REPOSITORY of ARTS, LITERATURE, FASHIONS &c. Rudolf Ackermann, Frederic Shoberl)

Ackermann's Repository of Fashions. No. I January 1829 Price 2s (found in R. ACKERMANN'S REPOSITORY OF FASHIONS [4th ser. of the Repository of arts, literature, fashions, manufactures].

(Both books contain multiple editions, and are fun to go through.)

By Lauren Gilbert, author HEYERWOOD, A Novel.

Queen Charlotte?

Or how Queen Victoria almost wasn't.

by V.R. Christensen

The matter of royal accession during the reign of George III should not have been a matter of any great debate. George IV had already served as regent (off and on) during his father’s madness. The line of George IV was further ensured by the fact that he had a legitimate child, even if she was merely a daughter.

A princess though she was, Charlotte was not much pampered or loved. She was pawn, as children too often are, in the acrimonious game between her rivalling parents, estranged from the time of her conception. She was an unhappy young woman, and desperate to escape the confines of her life. Her ticket out? Marriage.

Because of the Royal Marriages Act of 1772 (passed by George III to ensure that his children's choice of spouses met with his approval) Charlotte's choices were relegated to a few foreign princes whom she'd never met. She made a run at Frederick of Prussia, but he was unresponsive. And then, at a ball given by the Duke and Duchess of York, she met the handsome Prince Leopold of Saxe-Coburg-Saalfield. Not only was he charming, ambitious and a renowned lady’s man, but he was also heavily in debt and looking for a solution. Charlotte was not very much in love with Leopold at the outset; she simply saw him as a means of escape. Neither was Leopold in love with her, but he was very much enamoured of the idea of being consort to a rich princess, and one who would very probably become Queen. Perhaps taking a lesson from her father's miserable marriage, Leopold considered it wise to fortify his position by convincing Charlotte to love him, at least to rely on him. By all accounts, he succeeded quite brilliantly in his aim to win her heart. He was an an affectionate and attentive husband. So successful was he, that, in the course of his efforts, Leopold found himself very much in love with her in turn. He gave up his rakish ways and took up the part of faithful husband and indispensable helpmate. Charlotte was so dependent on him in fact, that she made a royal declaration that she would subject herself to her husband’s rule, making him King upon her accession. All he needed more to secure his position was an heir.

In due course, an heir was on its way, but Charlotte was subject to the ‘skill’ of the royal doctors, who prescribed a ‘lowering’ treatment for the expectant mother. This consisted of a liquid diet of meatless, vegetable-free broth and restriction from all exercise. Consequently, when her time came, two weeks after the due date, she lacked the necessary strength to deliver the baby. After a gruelling fifty hours of labour, the baby, a beautiful, perfectly formed boy, emerged—dead. Charlotte had not even the strength to feel her devastation. To make matters worse, her placenta had not detached, and she endured a procedure which essentially tore it from her uterus. Her torso was then wrapped tightly in bandages, and when she complained of pain, she was given warm compresses. She was bleeding internally, though she was wrapped so tightly no one was yet aware of it. Until it was too late.

At 2:30 in the morning, Charlotte died, and two generations of royalty were swept away.

It was 1817 and the question of accession was once more brought to the fore.

Charlotte’s death had sent her father, George IV, into a nearly fatal fit of illness, and it was generally believed he would die. He rallied, however. He might have done more to ensure the endurance of his own line. When his wife, Caroline died in 1826, he declared his intention to find a new wife and to produce another heir. But, lazy, fat, old and in poor health, he did nothing.

The next in line after the Regent, was George III’s second son Frederick, but the Duke of York had, as had his brother before him, separated from his wife within a year of their marriage, having produced no children. Also out of the running was the sixth brother, Augustus, whose marriage had not satisfied the requirements of the Royal Marriages Act.

That left William, Edward, Ernest and Adolphus vying for position.

William, Duke of Clarence, was next in line. It was Charlotte’s death that induced him to leave his beloved mistress (Mrs. Dorothy Jordan, with whom he had ten children) and look for a wife. He decided upon Adelaide of Saxe-Meiningen, whom he chose sight unseen. She was sickly, unattractive, but intelligent and pious—all of which rather counted against her with the world-wise (if not world-weary) prince. Adelaide was a mere 25 to his 52, yet despite all this, their marriage was a happy one.

The next in line after William was Edward, Duke of Kent. Edward was a favourite of Charlotte and Leopold and it was they who played matchmaker. Leopold introduced him to his sister Victoire. Edward was taken with her and proposed. She refused him. She had been married before, to a much older, unattractive and inattentive husband, who, as it so happened, had been the widower of her maternal aunt (yes, that made him her uncle). Consequently, she had no desire to enter again into that unhappy state called matrimony. Her interests, as well as those of her two children, were best served by remaining a widow. Disappointed, Edward returned to the arms of his mistress—until events catapulted him back into the hunt. With the announcement of Charlotte’s death, he tried once more for Victoire’s hand, this time begging the influence of her brother, who, though shattered over his wife's death, was ever the man of political strategy (he would later exhibit the foresight to train his nephew up to be the Queen’s consort). He saw in this match another opportunity to advance his own interests, and so persuaded Victoire to see them too. Circumstances had changed, and Edward was no longer a longshot for the throne.

Next was Ernest, Duke of Cumberland. But Cumberland was much feared and loathed by the people. It was generally believed at the time (though modern scholars doubt the allegations hold any truth) that he had murdered his valet and homosexual partner, and that he had fathered a child with his sister, Sophia. His choice of bride was almost as notorious as he. His first cousin, Frederica of Mechlenberg-Sterlitz, was once engaged to his brother Adolphus, Duke of Cambridge, but eloped with the Prince of Solms, whom she was later suspected of murdering. Ernest's marriage to Frederica, solemnised in 1815, satisfied all provisions of the Royal Marriages Act.

The last of the qualifying princes was Adolphus, Duke of Cambridge. Cambridge, the youngest of the seven sons, was also the most temperate of all the brothers, though perhaps no less ambitious. Within two weeks of Charlotte’s death, he was married to Augusta of Hesse-Kassel.

And so, in March of 1819, two years after Charlotte’s death, these four brothers, with their respective and very pregnant wives, rightly held very high hopes for the throne.

Cambridge (Adolphus) was the first to produce a post-Charlotte heir. Upon hearing of the delivery of the Cambridge child, Clarence (William) went to see for himself, sending a message to the King soon after informing him of the arrival (at long last) of a legitimate grandson. The child was called George in honour of his uncle and King.

On the 27th of March, the Duke and Duchess of Clarence had a daughter, but she did not survive her first day.

On the 29th of May, the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge (Adolphus) announced the birth of their son, also named George. The King was well pleased, for he’d taken great measures to ensure that his throne should pass to no woman. The Regent, too, felt very strongly that a King should be the head of England.

Except that five days earlier, the Duchess of Kent had given birth to a daughter, and the Kent child was ahead of the little Georges in succession, Kent (Edward) being next in line after William, who so far had no heir (nor would he, as all of his children by Adelaide died in infancy).

But then the Duke of Kent died. The laws of accession did not rule out his young daughter’s claim, but a King could take certain precautions, as had George III with his own daughters, denying them marriages and thereby guaranteeing they had no claims upon the throne. Perhaps to protect her from such devices, or perhaps to shield her from the unsavoury influences of his profligate brothers (for custom would dictate she fall under George’s care, then William’s upon the former's death) Kent made legal arrangements that his wife should maintain care of their child after his death, a thing virtually unheard of at the time.

Six days after Kent’s death, the King followed. In the shock, George IV fell ill as well, and it was believed he, too, would die. He rallied, however, despite surrendering 150 ounces of blood to the royal doctors.

George IV, once recovered, turned his back upon his niece and was prepared to turn them over to the Coburgs in Germany. Leopold, however, stepped in once again. Such royal neglect on the part of the English relatives proved to be just as well. It was Leopold who arranged for the burial of Kent's body at Windsor, as well as settling all of his sister's outstanding debts. He intereceded with George IV's favourite sister and arranged for them to assume residence at Kensington Palace, where Victoria was trained, very quietly, and without her knowledge, to one day reign.

Though Victoria was brought up to know she was a princess, she spent her childhood wholly unaware of just how great the chance was that she would one day claim the throne. Unlike the heirs apparent both before and after her, she had no cause to consider herself superior, no reason to be vain or to believe in her own self-importance. Instead, she had a unique sense of responsibility and a deep desire to do good.

When, after her uncle William's death in 1837, Victoria at last gained the throne, she was precisely what the people wanted, and perhaps what society needed. They were tired of the old ways, the old excesses.

Victoria brought the promise of a new era, and the world has never been the same.

For more about the life of Queen Victoria, see We Two, by Gillian Gill.

V.R. Christensen is the author of Of Moths & Butterflies, and Blind - a novella. Cry of the Peacock, a companion piece to Of Moths & Butterflies, is due to be released in October of 2012.