Sweet lass of Richmond Hill

Prince William's Indiscretion

The Court was at Windsor where it was housed most uncomfortably. The Castle itself was in a state of deterioration and as repairs were done now and then the King and Queen with their elder children stayed in what was known as the Upper or Queen's Lodge while the younger ones were housed in the Lower Lodge. These Lodges were gloomy and cold, the rooms small and old fashioned; there were numerous cupboards and small alcoves; the staircases were steep and dangerous; and there were so many pairs of stairs and so many passages that attendants new to the place were constantly losing their way. The fires in the small rooms during winter overheated them but the blast through the corridors was icy. Most of the household suffered from colds; and every morning during the coldest weather they were expected to attend a service in the unheated Castle chapel which was colder even than the corridors.

Still the King and Queen preferred Windsor to St. James's, and Buckingham House which had, not so long ago, been made into a home for them at great cost. "Dear little Kew' was of course the favourite residence, but as both the King and Queen liked living in the country they were often at Windsor.

One knew exactly what was going to happen each day, said some of the bored members of the Court. No one would believe this was a royal household for it was conducted as many houses were in remote districts throughout the country. There was no ton, no excitement, nothing royal. The Queen examined her household accounts with a fervour she showed for nothing else except her habit of taking snuff; the King walked about the neighbourhood like a squire, interesting himself in what crops his tenants were growing and had even been known to take a hand at the butter-making. They were parsimonious both of them, and no one was ever allowed to be late for meals or the King wanted to know the reason why. Every evening there was music—and even this varied very little. There was always some composition by Handel and all the Princesses had to be present—even baby Amelia who must, said the King, be brought up to appreciate the right kind of music—which was of course the kind which appealed to him.

The Royal Court was in the greatest contrast to the Prince's entourage at Carlton House. Often the King and Queen heard their son's establishment spoken of almost reverently. There was the centre of gaiety; there the fashionable, the erudite and the witty gathered. The Princesses listened eagerly for news of their brother; they envied him; they wished he would come to Windsor or Kew or wherever they were. But he rarely did; he was too busy living his exciting life.

The King thought about him constantly and disliked him more intensely every day. The Queen fretted about him. Why had he made this gulf between them? Why could he not be the dutiful son she longed for him to be? She was torn between her love and pride in him and her resentment towards him, and she thought of him more than she did the rest of her children put together. There were very disturbing rumours about him and the Catholic widow, Mrs. Fitzherbert. The only pleasant thing about those rumours was the good opinion everyone seemed to have of the lady.

The Queen discussed him with Lady Harcourt, one of her closest friends as well as one of her Ladies of her Bedchamber.

"I think it is a very good friendship ... nothing more," she said. "I remember he had such a friendship with one of the Princess's attendants—Mary Hamilton. She was a pure girl and I hear that this Mrs. Fitzherbert is the same."

"I've heard it too, Your Majesty," agreed Lady Harcourt, "but..."

Yet how could she disturb the Queen who had so much to disturb her? Lady Harcourt knew how anxiously the Queen watched the King for a return of that strange malady which had attacked him once and in which he had rambled so incoherently that both he and the Queen had thought he was going mad.

Lady Harcourt—who was devoted to the King as well as to the Queen—sincerely hoped that the Prince would not provoke his father so much that he made him ill.

On one cold morning early in the year 1786 the Queen arose as usual, and when she had undergone the ceremony of the early toilette, which took about an hour, had been to the service in the icy chapel and had taken breakfast in the company of the King and her elder daughters she returned to her apartments for the morning toilette, a lengthy matter for her hair had to be dressed and powdered and this was one of the two days in the week when it had to be curled, and this took an hour longer than usual.

She sighed because no matter what attention was paid to her appearance it made little difference. She wished these ridiculous hair styles were not fashionable. They came from France where Marie Antoinette had so exaggerated them as to make them ridiculous.

She sat watching her women as they set the triangular cushion on the crown of her head and, frizzing her hair, built it up over the cushion. Now they would curl it and set it into waves one either side of her head before they wrapped her in her powdering robe and the business of powdering began.

While her hair was dressed her women read to her; she liked to hear what was being written in the papers; and when they had finished those she enjoyed a novel. The readers were constantly passing over little items about the Prince and Mrs. Fitzherbert which could make an awkward pause now and then and the Queen knew the cause of it, and while she wanted to know what was being said of her son was afraid to ask unless it should be something vulgar, ridiculing or informative—something which her sense of duty would tell her she ought to pass on to the King.

Her hair dressed, her toilette completed, she would send for the elder Princesses and spend a quiet hour with them, sewing or knotting while one of the ladies read aloud to them. The Queen always listened attentively to what was read; she had made a habit of this and it was one of the main reasons why she had mastered the English language so well and spoke it fluently with only a trace of a German accent.

She was pleased to see the girls waiting for her, and that the Princess Royal had remembered to fill her snuff box.

She took a pinch and called for her work; and set them all their duties. The Princess Royal should thread her mother's needles; Augusta should be responsible for bringing in the dogs and taking them out again when the sessions were over; Sophia should hand her her snuff box when she needed it. In the meantime they should sew of course. The others should continue with their sewing or knotting all the time and Miss Planta, the governess, who was a good reader, should read aloud to them, and Miss Goldsworthy who was the sub-governess and who was affectionately known as Gooley by the royal family should take over from Miss Planta when the latter was tired.

The party were busy with their tasks as they had been so many times before when suddenly the door was flung open and a young man burst into the room without ceremony and, looking wildly about him, dashed to the Queen and flung himself on his knees before her.

The Princess Royal jumped to her feet, treading on one of the dogs which had been nestling there so that he gave a loud yelp and went on yelping.

Princess Augusta cried: "William! Brother William."

"William?" stammered the Queen.

"Yes, Mamma," said the young man. "It is I, William. I have to see you. I have made up my mind. Nothing will deter me. I have come to tell you that I want to marry Sarah and you must make my father agree to the match. I have given my word ... I..."

"One moment," said the Queen, seeking for her dignity, staring with dismay at her son. What was he talking about? It was George and Mrs. Fitzherbert who had been in her mind ... not William and this ... Sarah.

"Pray get up, William," she said.

But he would not do so. He continued to kneel, catching her knees.

"You must help me, Mamma," he said. "I have made up my mind. No one is going to stop me."

William was shouting; the Princesses and their governesses were looking on with round inquisitive eyes. This was very extraordinary. They were all expecting they knew not what concerning the Prince of Wales—and here was William ... also in love and wanting to marry someone of whom the King and Queen would not approve. Sarah ... who was Sarah and where had William who had been stationed at Portsmouth met her?

The dogs were barking; one of them had become entangled in Augusta's knotting string; Sophia had let the snuff box fall to the floor; and William went on shouting.

"Stop!" cried the Queen. "Miss La Planta, Gooley, conduct the Princesses to their apartments. They may take their work with them and you may read to them."

The governesses curtsied and the Princesses did the same, leaving the Queen alone with her son.

William seemed a little sobered now, and the Queen said to him: "Now, William, you had better tell me exactly what all this is about."

It was amazing what the effect of a little regal authority had on William; he had grown considerably calmer.

"I have come to ask you to speak to the King about my engagement," he said.

"Pray sit down and tell me what this is all about."

William meekly obeyed.

"Now," said the Queen, "what was it that so induced you to forget your duty as to leave Portsmouth, and your manners as to burst in upon me and make such a scene before your sisters and their governesses?"

"This is a very serious matter."

"It is indeed. Desertion is punishable in the Navy by ... I know not what. But I am certain that it will be severe. But let me hear what this engagement is."

"Mamma, I am in love."

"My dear William, have you not yet learned that love and marriage do not always go together in the lives of princes?"

"Are you suggesting that I should indulge in an immoral relationship with Sarah?"

"Indeed, I am not. I am suggesting that you should never have been so foolish ... and so wicked ... as to become involved with her."

"Sarah is the most beautiful of girls. She is completely suited to the rank of Princess."

"But she is not, I imagine, of such a rank?"

"Of course she is not."

"Then pray tell me who she is."

"She is Sarah Martin—daughter of the Commissioner of Portsmouth in whose house I lodge."

"I see. And you imagine yourself to be in love with her."

"There is no imagination about it. I am."

"And you propose to marry her. You must know, William, that without your father's consent and that of the Parliament such a marriage would not be legal."

"George does not seem to think so."

"George! You are referring to the Prince of Wales, I suppose. Let me tell you that this Royal Marriage Act applies to you all ... George included, even though he may be the Prince of Wales."

"Mamma, we may be princes but we are still men."

The Queen looked with exasperation at her son who hurried on: "If you do not approve of my marriage to Sarah I am ready to abandon everything to be with her. I shall be happy enough as Lieutenant Guelph. In fact that is what I am known as in the Navy. I prefer it. I would rather be a commoner and free than a prince and a prisoner."

"No one is suggesting that you should be a prisoner, William. Only that you should observe the laws of your country as we all have to do."

"All men—except the members of our family—may marry as they please. That is the greatest freedom of all. Mamma, I will marry Sarah. I must make Papa see. Where is he now? Perhaps I could go to him and explain ..."

"My dear William, His Majesty is greatly worried by your brother's conduct. I pray you do not add to his anxieties."

"And what of George? I suppose he will have his way. I suppose he will find some way out of his ... his ... cage."

"I will not listen to such foolish talk. Your brother will marry as you will, which is as the King wishes."

"Oh, I can see that it is important to George. His son would be the King. But surely it cannot be so important for me. There is Frederick to come before me. Mamma, will you speak to the King?"

The Queen was silent. She imagined the King's reaction to this news. She pictured his coming in now and finding his son in Windsor when he should be in Portsmouth. The shock would be terrible; and she was afraid of these shocks. Heaven knew what the Prince of Wales was doing. They must expect shocks from that direction. But that William, their third son, should suddenly present them with his problem was quite unexpected.

It would never do for the King to find his son here. It would be much better if she could break the news gently.

"I will speak to your father, William," she said.

"Oh, Mamma." He took her hand and kissed it. How affectionate they are, she thought, when they want something.

"You will plead with him? You will tell him how important this is to me? Tell him that he need not be ashamed of welcoming Sarah into the family circle. She is good ... and beautiful, and would be an asset to any family."

"I am sure she would," said the Queen. "I will speak to your lather on condition that you return immediately to Portsmouth."

The Prince stared at her in dismay.

"I will see that you hear the King's decision there. But if you stay here I can do nothing. For one thing His Majesty will be so enraged when he sees that you have deserted your post that lie will not listen to you. Go back as quickly and quietly as you can to Portsmouth and I will take the first opportunity of speaking to your father."

He took her hands and looked earnestly in her face.

"You will speak for me."

"Yes, my son, I will speak for you."

He kissed her hands fervently.

She thought: If only George would ask me to do something for him. But George was different from William. He went his way without needing any help from his mother. He was after all Prince of Wales.

"Thank you, Mamma. I will return to Portsmouth at once ... and you will speak to the King."

"At the first opportunity," the Queen promised.

The King came in from hunting the stag in Windsor Forest, looking tired; but then he almost always did nowadays. The Queen thought: He takes too much exercise. He forces himself to, because he thinks it is good for his health and will reduce his weight. But he was growing fatter in spite of all his efforts; his face was a deeper shade of red and there was a tinge of purple in it, but perhaps that was due to those white eyebrows. His eyes seemed to bulge more than they used to.

I watch him too critically, she thought. I am too anxious.

She asked him if she could have a word alone with him. He looked surprised. "Eh, what?"

"At Your Majesty's convenience." She did not wish to make it sound too important. She had no wish to worry him in advance.

In due course they were alone and she said to him: "A disturbing thing happened today. William came here."

"William." The white brows shot up; the blue eyes bulged; the colour in the too colourful face deepened. "William! Left Portsmouth! Eh? What for? What did he do that for? Why did he leave Portsmouth, eh, what?"

Oh dear. The rapid speech, the repetitions. Always a bad sign.

"He has one of these notions which young people get. He's fallen in love with the Commissioner's daughter and wants to marry her."

"Marry her. Is he mad, eh?"

The Queen shivered. She hated that word.

She said quickly: "He is young. Your Majesty knows what young men are. I think some action will have to be taken and Your Majesty will know what."

"Action, eh, I should think so. What is this? How far has it gone? What is the girl? Commissioner's daughter? He lodges in the Commissioner's house. So that's it! Well, it will have to be stopped, of course. Young fool. Will have to stop being a ... a young fool. And he came here. How dare he? Desertion, that's what it was. Does he think because he's my son he can flout the rules of the Navy? We'll have to teach that young puppy a lesson or two."

The Queen thought of the "lessons' which had been taught the boys when they were younger. This had been the application of the cane—often by the King himself. He had declared to the Queen, "Only way ... only way you can train young puppies." And she had hated to hear the screams of the boys and had been a little frightened by the fury and resentment she had seen in their eyes towards their father ... and this applied particularly to the Prince of Wales. Of course William could not be allowed to marry this Sarah Martin, but she was sorry for William—and she hoped the King would not be too severe.

"He is in love with this Sarah ..." began the Queen.

"Sarah!" cried the King; and his thoughts immediately went to another Sarah. Lady Sarah Lennox, with whom he had been in love, whom he had given up to marry Princes Charlotte of Mecklenburg Strelitz, this plain old woman who was sitting there now and was the mother of the troublesome William and that other even more troublesome one, George, who had given him so many sleepless nights. He wondered what his life would have been like if he had married beautiful Sarah Lennox— and he could have married her, for there was no Marriage Act in those days to prevent him and in any case, as the King, he could have given his own consent to whatever marriage he had wanted to make. Yet he had done his duty—a fact of which he had been proud all those years but which nevertheless continued to rankle.

"Sarah?" he repeated.

"Her name is Sarah Martin ... this Commissioner's daughter."

"He must be mad."

The Queen flinched.

"He is only twenty."

"Old enough to know better. Where is he now?"

"He has gone back to Portsmouth. He will stay there until lie hears Your Majesty's decision."

The King grunted.

"What is Your Majesty going to do?"

The King hesitated and looked at her cautiously. Usually he kept her in the dark. He had always said that he would not have women interfering in State matters. But this was scarcely a State matter. It was a family matter—and he was going to see that that was what it remained. In this case he could take Charlotte into his confidence.

"I will order the Commissioner of Portsmouth to transfer Prince William to Plymouth without delay."

The Queen sighed.

"And there this ... this ... young woman will not accompany him. I doubt not that in Plymouth he will find someone else to take her place ... but this, this little adventure will have taught the young rip that he should not take these ladies too seriously."

The Queen nodded and the King said angrily, "Sarah ... Sarah ... what was it?"

"Martin," answered the Queen a trifle sadly, for she knew what memories the name recalled. There had been plenty to let her know when she had arrived in England that the King had been deeply enamoured of Sarah Lennox and reluctantly was taking Charlotte to be his Queen. That, thought the Queen, was the fate of princesses—and of princes too. This William would discover.

In a few days he was transferred from Portsmouth to Plymouth.