<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"></SPAN></p>
<h2> GEORGE IV. AND MRS. FITZHERBERT </h2>
<p>In the last decade of the eighteenth century England was perhaps the most
brilliant nation of the world. Other countries had been humbled by the
splendid armies of France and were destined to be still further humbled by
the emperor who came from Corsica. France had begun to seize the scepter
of power; yet to this picture there was another side—fearful want
and grievous poverty and the horrors of the Revolution. Russia was too far
away, and was still considered too barbarous, for a brilliant court to
flourish there. Prussia had the prestige that Frederick the Great won for
her, but she was still a comparatively small state. Italy was in a
condition of political chaos; the banks of the Rhine were running blood
where the Austrian armies faced the gallant Frenchmen under the leadership
of Moreau. But England, in spite of the loss of her American colonies, was
rich and prosperous, and her invincible fleets were extending her empire
over the seven seas.</p>
<p>At no time in modern England has the court at London seen so much real
splendor or such fine manners. The royalist emigres who fled from France
brought with them names and pedigrees that were older than the Crusades,
and many of them were received with the frankest, freest English
hospitality. If here and there some marquis or baron of ancient blood was
perforce content to teach music to the daughters of tradesmen in suburban
schools, nevertheless they were better off than they had been in France,
harried by the savage gaze-hounds of the guillotine. Afterward, in the
days of the Restoration, when they came back to their estates, they had
probably learned more than one lesson from the bouledogues of Merry
England, who had little tact, perhaps, but who were at any rate kindly and
willing to share their goods with pinched and poverty-stricken foreigners.</p>
<p>The court, then, as has been said, was brilliant with notables from
Continental countries, and with the historic wealth of the peerage of
England. Only one cloud overspread it; and that was the mental condition
of the king. We have become accustomed to think of George III as a dull
creature, almost always hovering on the verge of that insanity which
finally swept him into a dark obscurity; but Thackeray's picture of him is
absurdly untrue to the actual facts. George III. was by no means a
dullard, nor was he a sort of beefy country squire who roved about the
palace gardens with his unattractive spouse.</p>
<p>Obstinate enough he was, and ready for a combat with the rulers of the
Continent or with his self-willed sons; but he was a man of brains and
power, and Lord Rosebery has rightly described him as the most striking
constitutional figure of his time. Had he retained his reason, and had his
erratic and self-seeking son not succeeded him during his own lifetime,
Great Britain might very possibly have entered upon other ways than those
which opened to her after the downfall of Napoleon.</p>
<p>The real center of fashionable England, however, was not George III., but
rather his son, subsequently George IV., who was made Prince of Wales
three days after his birth, and who became prince regent during the
insanity of the king. He was the leader of the social world, the fit
companion of Beau Brummel and of a choice circle of rakes and fox-hunters
who drank pottle-deep. Some called him "the first gentleman of Europe."
Others, who knew him better, described him as one who never kept his word
to man or woman and who lacked the most elementary virtues.</p>
<p>Yet it was his good luck during the first years of his regency to be
popular as few English kings have ever been. To his people he typified old
England against revolutionary France; and his youth and gaiety made many
like him. He drank and gambled; he kept packs of hounds and strings of
horses; he ran deeply into debt that he might patronize the sports of that
uproarious day. He was a gallant "Corinthian," a haunter of dens where
there were prize-fights and cock-fights, and there was hardly a doubtful
resort in London where his face was not familiar.</p>
<p>He was much given to gallantry—not so much, as it seemed, for
wantonness, but from sheer love of mirth and chivalry. For a time, with
his chosen friends, such as Fox and Sheridan, he ventured into reckless
intrigues that recalled the amours of his predecessor, Charles II. He had
by no means the wit and courage of Charles; and, indeed, the house of
Hanover lacked the outward show of chivalry which made the Stuarts shine
with external splendor. But he was good-looking and stalwart, and when he
had half a dozen robust comrades by his side he could assume a very manly
appearance. Such was George IV. in his regency and in his prime. He made
that period famous for its card-playing, its deep drinking, and for the
dissolute conduct of its courtiers and noblemen no less than for the
gallantry of its soldiers and its momentous victories on sea and land. It
came, however, to be seen that his true achievements were in reality only
escapades, that his wit was only folly, and his so-called "sensibility"
was but sham. He invented buckles, striped waistcoats, and flamboyant
collars, but he knew nothing of the principles of kingship or the laws by
which a state is governed.</p>
<p>The fact that he had promiscuous affairs with women appealed at first to
the popular sense of the romantic. It was not long, however, before these
episodes were trampled down into the mire of vulgar scandal.</p>
<p>One of the first of them began when he sent a letter, signed "Florizel,"
to a young actress, "Perdita" Robinson. Mrs. Robinson, whose maiden name
was Mary Darby, and who was the original of famous portraits by
Gainsborough and Reynolds, was a woman of beauty, talent, and temperament.
George, wishing in every way to be "romantic," insisted upon clandestine
meetings on the Thames at Kew, with all the stage trappings of the popular
novels—cloaks, veils, faces hidden, and armed watchers to warn her
of approaching danger. Poor Perdita took this nonsense so seriously that
she gave up her natural vocation for the stage, and forsook her husband,
believing that the prince would never weary of her.</p>
<p>He did weary of her very soon, and, with the brutality of a man of such a
type, turned her away with the promise of some money; after which he cut
her in the Park and refused to speak to her again. As for the money, he
may have meant to pay it, but Perdita had a long struggle before she
succeeded in getting it. It may be assumed that the prince had to borrow
it and that this obligation formed part of the debts which Parliament paid
for him.</p>
<p>It is not necessary to number the other women whose heads he turned. They
are too many for remembrance here, and they have no special significance,
save one who, as is generally believed, became his wife so far as the
church could make her so. An act of 1772 had made it illegal for any
member of the English royal family to marry without the permission of the
king. A marriage contracted without the king's consent might be lawful in
the eyes of the church, but the children born of it could not inherit any
claim to the throne.</p>
<p>It may be remarked here that this withholding of permission was strictly
enforced. Thus William IV., who succeeded George IV., was married, before
his accession to the throne, to Mrs. Jordan (Dorothy Bland). Afterward he
lawfully married a woman of royal birth who was known as Queen Adelaide.</p>
<p>There is an interesting story which tells how Queen Victoria came to be
born because her father, the Duke of Kent, was practically forced to give
up a morganatic union which he greatly preferred to a marriage arranged
for him by Parliament. Except the Duke of Cambridge, the Duke of Kent was
the only royal duke who was likely to have children in the regular line.
The only daughter of George IV. had died in childhood. The Duke of
Cumberland was for various reasons ineligible; the Duke of Clarence, later
King William IV., was almost too old; and therefore, to insure the
succession, the Duke of Kent was begged to marry a young and attractive
woman, a princess of the house of Saxe-Coburg, who was ready for the
honor. It was greatly to the Duke's credit that he showed deep and sincere
feeling in this matter. As he said himself in effect:</p>
<p>"This French lady has stood by me in hard times and in good times, too—why
should I cast her off? She has been more than a wife to me. And what do I
care for your plans in Parliament? Send over for one of the Stuarts—they
are better men than the last lot of our fellows that you have had!"</p>
<p>In the end, however, he was wearied out and was persuaded to marry, but he
insisted that a generous sum should be settled on the lady who had been so
long his true companion, and to whom, no doubt, he gave many a wistful
thought in his new but unfamiliar quarters in Kensington Palace, which was
assigned as his residence.</p>
<p>Again, the second Duke of Cambridge, who died only a few years ago,
greatly desired to marry a lady who was not of royal rank, though of fine
breeding and of good birth. He besought his young cousin, as head of the
family, to grant him this privilege of marriage; but Queen Victoria
stubbornly refused. The duke was married according to the rites of the
church, but he could not make his wife a duchess. The queen never quite
forgave him for his partial defiance of her wishes, though the duke's wife—she
was usually spoken of as Mrs. FitzGeorge—was received almost
everywhere, and two of her sons hold high rank in the British army and
navy, respectively.</p>
<p>The one real love story in the life of George IV. is that which tells of
his marriage with a lady who might well have been the wife of any king.
This was Maria Anne Smythe, better known as Mrs. Fitzherbert, who was six
years older than the young prince when she first met him in company with a
body of gentlemen and ladies in 1784.</p>
<p>Maria Fitzherbert's face was one which always displayed its best
advantages. Her eyes were peculiarly languishing, and, as she had already
been twice a widow, and was six years his senior, she had the advantage
over a less experienced lover. Likewise, she was a Catholic, and so by
another act of Parliament any marriage with her would be illegal. Yet just
because of all these different objections the prince was doubly drawn to
her, and was willing to sacrifice even the throne if he could but win her.</p>
<p>His father, the king, called him into the royal presence and said:</p>
<p>"George, it is time that you should settle down and insure the succession
to the throne."</p>
<p>"Sir," replied the prince, "I prefer to resign the succession and let my
brother have it, and that I should live as a private English gentleman."</p>
<p>Mrs. Fitzherbert was not the sort of woman to give herself up readily to a
morganatic connection. Moreover, she soon came to love Prince George too
well to entangle him in a doubtful alliance with one of another faith than
his. Not long after he first met her the prince, who was always given to
private theatricals, sent messengers riding in hot haste to her house to
tell her that he had stabbed himself, that he begged to see her, and that
unless she came he would repeat the act. The lady yielded, and hurried to
Carlton House, the prince's residence; but she was prudent enough to take
with her the Duchess of Devonshire, who was a reigning beauty of the
court.</p>
<p>The scene which followed was theatrical rather than impressive.—The
prince was found in his sleeping-chamber, pale and with his ruffles
blood-stained. He played the part of a youthful and love-stricken wooer,
vowing that he would marry the woman of his heart or stab himself again.
In the presence of his messengers, who, with the duchess, were witnesses,
he formally took the lady as his wife, while Lady Devonshire's
wedding-ring sealed the troth. The prince also acknowledged it in a
document.</p>
<p>Mrs. Fitzherbert was, in fact, a woman of sound sense. Shortly after this
scene of melodramatic intensity her wits came back to her, and she
recognized that she had merely gone through a meaningless farce. So she
sent back the prince's document and the ring and hastened to the
Continent, where he could not reach her, although his detectives followed
her steps for a year.</p>
<p>At the last she yielded, however, and came home to marry the prince in
such fashion as she could—a marriage of love, and surely one of
morality, though not of parliamentary law. The ceremony was performed "in
her own drawing-room in her house in London, in the presence of the
officiating Protestant clergyman and two of her own nearest relatives."</p>
<p>Such is the serious statement of Lord Stourton, who was Mrs. Fitzherbert's
cousin and confidant. The truth of it was never denied, and Mrs.
Fitzherbert was always treated with respect, and even regarded as a person
of great distinction. Nevertheless, on more than one occasion the prince
had his friends in Parliament deny the marriage in order that his debts
might be paid and new allowances issued to him by the Treasury.</p>
<p>George certainly felt himself a husband. Like any other married prince, he
set himself to build a palace for his country home. While in search of
some suitable spot he chanced to visit the "pretty fishing-village" of
Brighton to see his uncle, the Duke of Cumberland. Doubtless he found it
an attractive place, yet this may have been not so much because of its
view of the sea as for the reason that Mrs. Fitzherbert had previously
lived there.</p>
<p>However, in 1784 the prince sent down his chief cook to make arrangements
for the next royal visit. The cook engaged a house on the spot where the
Pavilion now stands, and from that time Brighton began to be an extremely
fashionable place. The court doctors, giving advice that was agreeable,
recommended their royal patient to take sea-bathing at Brighton. At once
the place sprang into popularity.</p>
<p>At first the gentry were crowded into lodging-houses and the
accommodations were primitive to a degree. But soon handsome villas arose
on every side; hotels appeared; places of amusement were opened. The
prince himself began to build a tasteless but showy structure, partly
Chinese and partly Indian in style, on the fashionable promenade of the
Steyne.</p>
<p>During his life with Mrs. Fitzherbert at Brighton the prince held what was
practically a court. Hundreds of the aristocracy came down from London and
made their temporary dwellings there; while thousands who were by no means
of the court made the place what is now popularly called "London by the
Sea." There were the Duc de Chartres, of France; statesmen and rakes, like
Fox, Sheridan, and the Earl of Barrymore; a very beautiful woman, named
Mrs. Couch, a favorite singer at the opera, to whom the prince gave at one
time jewels worth ten thousand pounds; and a sister of the Earl of
Barrymore, who was as notorious as her brother. She often took the
president's chair at a club which George's friends had organized and which
she had christened the Hell Fire Club.</p>
<p>Such persons were not the only visitors at Brighton. Men of much more
serious demeanor came down to visit the prince and brought with them
quieter society. Nevertheless, for a considerable time the place was most
noted for its wild scenes of revelry, into which George frequently
entered, though his home life with Mrs. Fitzherbert at the Pavilion was a
decorous one.</p>
<p>No one felt any doubt as to the marriage of the two persons, who seemed so
much like a prince and a princess. Some of the people of the place
addressed Mrs. Fitzherbert as "Mrs. Prince." The old king and his wife,
however, much deplored their son's relation with her. This was partly due
to the fact that Mrs. Fitzherbert was a Catholic and that she had received
a number of French nuns who had been driven out of France at the time of
the Revolution. But no less displeasure was caused by the prince's racing
and dicing, which swelled his debts to almost a million pounds, so that
Parliament and, indeed, the sober part of England were set against him.</p>
<p>Of course, his marriage to Mrs. Fitzherbert had no legal status; nor is
there any reason for believing that she ever became a mother. She had no
children by her former two husbands, and Lord Stourton testified
positively that she never had either son or daughter by Prince George.
Nevertheless, more than one American claimant has risen to advance some
utterly visionary claim to the English throne by reason of alleged descent
from Prince George and Mrs. Fitzherbert.</p>
<p>Neither William IV. nor Queen Victoria ever spent much time at Brighton.
In King William's case it was explained that the dampness of the Pavilion
did not suit him; and as to Queen Victoria, it was said that she disliked
the fact that buildings had been erected so as to cut off the view of the
sea. It is quite likely, however, that the queen objected to the
associations of the place, and did not care to be reminded of the time
when her uncle had lived there so long in a morganatic state of marriage.</p>
<p>At length the time came when the king, Parliament, and the people at large
insisted that the Prince of Wales should make a legal marriage, and a wife
was selected for him in the person of Caroline, daughter of the Duke of
Brunswick. This marriage took place exactly ten years after his wedding
with the beautiful and gentle-mannered Mrs. Fitzherbert. With the latter
he had known many days and hours of happiness. With Princess Caroline he
had no happiness at all.</p>
<p>Prince George met her at the pier to greet her. It is said that as he took
her hand he kissed her, and then, suddenly recoiling, he whispered to one
of his friends:</p>
<p>"For God's sake, George, give me a glass of brandy!"</p>
<p>Such an utterance was more brutal and barbaric than anything his bride
could have conceived of, though it is probable, fortunately, that she did
not understand him by reason of her ignorance of English.</p>
<p>We need not go through the unhappy story of this unsympathetic, neglected,
rebellious wife. Her life with the prince soon became one of open warfare;
but instead of leaving England she remained to set the kingdom in an
uproar. As soon as his father died and he became king, George sued her for
divorce. Half the people sided with the queen, while the rest regarded her
as a vulgar creature who made love to her attendants and brought dishonor
on the English throne. It was a sorry, sordid contrast between the young
Prince George who had posed as a sort of cavalier and this now furious
gray old man wrangling with his furious German wife.</p>
<p>Well might he look back to the time when he met Perdita in the moonlight
on the Thames, or when he played the part of Florizel, or, better still,
when he enjoyed the sincere and disinterested love of the gentle woman who
was his wife in all but legal status. Caroline of Brunswick was thrust
away from the king's coronation. She took a house within sight of
Westminster Abbey, so that she might make hag-like screeches to the mob
and to the king as he passed by. Presently, in August, 1821, only a month
after the coronation, she died, and her body was taken back to Brunswick
for burial.</p>
<p>George himself reigned for nine years longer. When he died in 1830 his
executor was the Duke of Wellington. The duke, in examining the late
king's private papers, found that he had kept with the greatest care every
letter written to him by his morganatic wife. During his last illness she
had sent him an affectionate missive which it is said George "read
eagerly." Mrs. Fitzherbert wished the duke to give up her letters; but he
would do so only in return for those which he had written to her.</p>
<p>It was finally decided that it would be best to burn both his and hers.
This work was carried out in Mrs. Fitzherbert's own house by the lady, the
duke, and the Earl of Albemarle.</p>
<p>Of George it may be said that he has left as memories behind him only
three things that will be remembered. The first is the Pavilion at
Brighton, with its absurdly oriental decorations, its minarets and flimsy
towers. The second is the buckle which he invented and which Thackeray has
immortalized with his biting satire. The last is the story of his marriage
to Maria Fitzherbert, and of the influence exercised upon him by the
affection of a good woman.</p>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />