Carolines Behaving Badly: Scandals of the Georgian Court

Part III: Caroline of Brunswick

The final chapter of our Hanoverian saga is upon us and it’s definitely the spiciest one and most deserving of the (tongue-in-cheek) title of the series. Caroline of Brunswick knew how to raise mayhem. Her unruliness might have spelled her doom even a generation earlier but, unlike her unfortunate aunt Caroline Matilda, she was able to live life mostly on her own terms. It helped a lot that she was married to a man who couldn’t win a popularity contest if he were the only participant.

Caroline of Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel was born May 17, 1768, the daughter of the Duke of Brunswick and Princess Augusta of Great Britain. If you’re wondering how she fits into the Hanoverian universe, Caroline was the niece of George III. Brunswick was a small duchy in northern Germany, a vassal state of Prussia. Caroline’s father, however, was a “man of consequence” in European affairs; he had an impeccable military pedigree, which I guess meant a lot back in those days.

Caroline’s childhood was difficult. Her parents had an unhappy marriage and Caroline was trapped in the middle, forever risking the wrath of one parent if she was civil to the other. Her education was spotty at best; she was proficient at the harpsichord, but her spelling was atrocious. From an early age, her mother’s sole goal was to marry her off, preferably to one of her English nephews (sons of George III).

But instead of preparing Caroline for life as a potential royal consort, her parents isolated her completely – ostensibly to protect her from bad influences at their court. Caroline led a sequestered life: dining separately from everyone else, rarely appearing in public and forbidden to dance when she did, and not even allowed to look out of the window.  It can hardly come as a surprise that, by her mid-teens, Caroline started to push back against her parents’ strictures. On one occasion, denied the opportunity to attend a ball, she found her own creative way of paying her parents back. In the middle of the ball, the duke and duchess were summoned home with the news that Caroline was gravely ill. They found her in bed, screaming her head off. When her mother asked Caroline what was wrong, Caroline told her that she was in labour! The duchess was sufficiently convinced that a midwife was sent for. It was only when the midwife arrived that Caroline wiped the makeup off her face and said, with a laugh, “Now, Madam, will you keep me another time from a ball?” SPICY!

In her teens, Caroline was described as an attractive girl, with fair good looks, curly hair and nice manners. One visitor to Brunswick even called her a “beauty”; another wrote she was lively, playful, witty and handsome. Several prospective matches were discussed, but despite Caroline’s attractive qualities and her family’s influential status, none came off. Caroline was on her way to becoming a spinster and, in foreshadowing of her later life, rumours began to circulate as to the reason. Caroline herself was responsible for at least one of them; she wrote of having been prevented from marrying the man of her choice, an army officer of lesser rank than hers – a “handsome Irishman”. Another, more scurrilous rumour was that Caroline had somehow actually managed to get pregnant while visiting the peasantry during her horse rides in the country (one of her few unchaperoned activities). Shades of Lady Chatterley’s Lover, oh la la!

The picture that arises from all this gossip is of a spirited young woman, uncowed by her family’s harsh treatment, with an independent and passionate streak in her nature … augmented by a healthy dose of histrionics.

It would prove to be an explosive mix at the English Court.

Caroline’s path to England was an unlikely one and was the result of yet another Hanoverian family squabble.

George III had many children, including 6 sons who were a constant source of headaches for their parents. But in true Hanoverian tradition, George III got along the worst with his oldest son, another George. It was the “reversionary problem” again, compounded by a clash of personalities. The Prince of Wales was intelligent, charming, and good looking (though later in life, his lifestyle caught up with him and he looked the worse for wear). He was a man of artistic vision, obsessed with interior design and personal style – Beau Brummel was one of his friends. But he was wildly extravagant and fond of the ‘fast life’, both of which were abhorrent to his father, who was a ‘domestic virtue and economy’ ride or die type of dude. Worst of all, the Prince made friends among the Whig Opposition, whom George III also hated with a passion.

When he was in his early 20s, the Prince – who was prone to violent infatuations – fell madly in love with an older woman, the beautiful Maria Fitzherbert. The main problem, apart from the fact that she was NOT of royal stock and was already twice widowed, was that Maria was a Catholic. As heir to the throne, the Prince could not marry a Catholic. It was literally against the law. He married her anyway. Or, at least, they went through some form of a marriage ceremony. Its legality was doubtful, but what wasn’t in question was the scandal it would cause if the truth came to light. For that reason, it was kept secret; the Prince went through money like water, and needed Parliament – and public opinion – on his side in order to keep getting bailed out of debts.

But the debts kept growing and, eventually, the only way for the Prince to get his hands on any more public funds was to get married. Keep in mind that, in the eyes of the world, he was single. And he was certainly desperate enough for money to have no qualms about putting aside his wife of 8 years. In this plan, he was egged on by his new mistress, Lady Jersey. Supposedly, Lady Jersey was jealous of Maria Fitzherbert – especially her claim to putative wifedom – and wanted to bring her down a notch. And she was happy to support the choice of a bride who would not be likely to supplant her in the Prince’s affections. Enter Caroline.

At 26, Caroline was definitely in “spinster” territory by the standards of the era. Reports on her appearance, character and manners were rather uninspiring by this time, but she was a suitable match on paper, and the Prince decided he couldn’t be too fussy. He was rather ‘long in the tooth’ himself for a bridegroom, being 32. They both agreed to the match, sight unseen. It was a decision both would come to regret bitterly for the rest of their lives.

When the British envoy, Lord Malmesbury, arrived in Brunswick to escort Caroline to England for her wedding, he immediately developed reservations. Caroline, he found, lacked tact and decorum, spoke her mind too freely, and was known to be susceptible to handsome officers. In other words, a feisty woman. More worryingly, she often neglected her personal hygiene. This could not bode well for her marriage as the Prince was known to be fastidious about such matters. This impelled Lord Malmesbury “to give [Caroline] some very frank instructions about her washing habits.” I mean … CAN YOU IMAGINE?? Can you imagine some old dude you’ve just met trying to talk to you about how often you take a bath and change your knickers? Caroline apparently took this in her stride, but also didn’t change her habits. Poor Lord Malmesbury! He tried. He also asked one of Caroline’s ladies-in-waiting to explain to her that “the Prince is very delicate, and that he expects a long and very careful toilette de proprete” from his women. In one ear and out the other, as far as Caroline was concerned.

It is not a surprise, then, that the Prince’s first reaction upon meeting Caroline was to turn to Lord Malmesbury and say “I am not well; pray get me a glass of brandy.” Caroline could not fail to notice his demeanour and, understandably, lost all interest in trying to play nice. She fell back on her “Brunswick manners” which further revolted the Prince, who found her too garrulous and flippant, especially after she made a bunch of jokes at Lady Jersey’s expense at their first dinner together. Caroline, for her part, thought the Prince was “fat and nothing like as handsome as his portrait.” It was NOT a good start to a marriage, and things only went downhill from there. They went through with the marriage, just barely. The Prince was drunk at the ceremony, and drunker still by the wedding night – which, according to Caroline, he spent unconscious on the floor, sleeping off the alcohol. It was said that the couple only had sex 3 times before the Prince decided he’d had enough. Luckily, it had been enough; about 9 months after the wedding, Caroline gave birth to the couple’s only child: a daughter, Charlotte.

If you think the child brought them closer together, you’d be wrong. As a measure of the Prince’s abiding hatred for Caroline, 3 days after Charlotte’s birth, he made a new Will – which ran to some 3,000 words of invective – leaving his entire estate to Maria Fitzherbert and leaving Caroline ONE SHILLING. He couldn’t even bring himself to call her by her name in his diatribe, referring to her as “her who is called the Princess of Wales.” Needless to say, the marriage was dead in the water. Caroline and the Prince lived separate lives, with Charlotte caught in the middle (in an echo of Caroline’s own childhood). The Prince continued to be wildly unpopular due to his extravagant spending and general profligacy. Caroline indirectly benefitted from this because she was set up in the press as the wronged wife, always a potent and popular role. This infuriated the Prince, who felt himself hard done by the public positioning of Caroline as a victim. Sadly for him, he was incapable of understanding or playing the publicity game. This was the age when newspapers were becoming increasingly popular and took on a decisive role in shaping public opinion.

Living more or less independently from her husband, Caroline was able to do pretty much as she pleased. And she certainly didn’t moderate her behaviour to conform to expectations, at least not behind closed doors. She knew it too and didn’t care. Caroline described herself to a friend as “such a rake … such a rioter, and such an irregular person” who “makes rebellions, and mutinies, in every well-regulated house.” She acted recklessly, dancing in a suggestive manner and exposing herself to male visitors and flirting with anyone and everyone, to the consternation of her ladies-in-waiting. Deprived of daily contact with her daughter, who was in the care of a governess, Caroline took to “adopting” random kids … eight or nine of them, whom she would then foster out to people she knew. This led to one of the first scandals of Caroline’s ‘career’, known as the “Delicate Investigation”.

In 1802, Caroline adopted an infant called Willy Austin. A few years later, after a falling-out with Caroline, her neighbour Lady Douglas claimed that Caroline had told her that Willy was her own son, conceived adulterously. This was a serious enough allegation that it called for an official investigation. A secret commission was set up to look into it. Lady Douglas’ testimony at the inquiry was explosive; she alleged that Caroline had had many lovers and provided plenty of salacious details. The Prince, who was Caroline’s Forever No. 1 Anti-fan, was delighted by the brouhaha. But, sadly for him, it all came to nothing in the end. Caroline’s servants backed her up, refusing to say that they had seen her acting inappropriately, and Willy Austin’s mother was produced to testify that she, in fact, had given birth to the child and not Caroline. It’s entirely possible that Caroline had, in fact, told people she was the mother; it was the sort of inappropriate joke with which she enjoyed shocking people.

So, the Wales’ cold war continued. In 1811, the Prince became Regent as a result of George III’s by-now permanent mental incapacity. He stepped up his campaign of attrition against Caroline, restricting her access to Charlotte further and using propaganda to try to sway public opinion. But, as I said, the Prince wasn’t good at publicity. Both Charlotte and the public liked Caroline better than him. Jane Austen, of all people, wrote about Caroline: “poor woman, I shall support her as long as I can, because she is a Woman and because I hate her Husband.” It was the latter sentiment that was shared by the whole nation and would always be the Prince’s undoing in his battles with Caroline.

In 1814, Caroline agreed to get out of his hair – and leave England – in exchange for an annual allowance of £35,000 which, according to Google, would be well over half a million in today’s currency. Not too shabby. Caroline took the money and embarked on an extensive tour of Europe, with stops in Italy, Switzerland, Greece, and Turkey. Along the way, she picked up a new companion – a man called Bartolomeo Pergami. Pergami was “startingly handsome, well over 6 feet tall, with black curling hair, dark eyes and a splendid physique.” He was also some 15 years younger than Caroline and plenty charming. They set tongues wagging almost immediately. As always, this deterred Caroline not at all.

News of their scandalous liaison was quickly overshadowed, however, by more tragic events. In November 1817, Caroline’s only daughter died suddenly following childbirth. Charlotte had been the heir to the throne and her death threw the Hanoverian succession into turmoil. This prompted all of her uncles – George III’s wayward sons, none of whom had any legitimate children despite various liaisons – to rush out and get married in order to beget (legitimate) heirs. It also prompted her father, the Prince Regent, to kick off divorce discussions. By this point he hated Caroline so much that he didn’t even bother to write to tell her that their daughter had died; Caroline had to find out by accident, when a messenger sent to the pope with the news stopped by the place where Caroline was staying. To pursue his divorce plans, the Prince Regent set up yet another commission to try to collect evidence of Caroline’s adultery. And there was plenty of it, thanks to Caroline’s affair with Pergami which, in typical Caroline fashion, she didn’t bother to hide. For her part, Caroline was also ready to call it quits on her marriage … for a price. The problem was that, at that time, divorce in England was not permitted by mutual consent. Caroline was not willing to formally admit adultery so the negotiations dragged on.

And then, in 1820, everything changed again. George III died and the Prince Regent finally achieved his life’s ambition: he became king.

And Caroline became Queen of England. Much to her husband’s chagrin.

Predictably, given the never-ending sideshow of their marriage, this event kicked off another round of fighting. The English government first tried to bribe Caroline to continue to stay away from England (and George IV) by upping her annual allowance to £50,000. She was tempted but ended up rejecting the offer and returning to England. The timing couldn’t have been worse for George IV, whose popularity was in freefall. Usually, becoming monarch buoys even the shakiest of reputations, at least for a bit. Not so for George IV. Having his hated wife back in the country, making him look worse than ever, was unbearable. So he went about getting a Bill passed by Parliament to strip Caroline of her titles and dissolve their marriage on the grounds of her adultery with Pergami. It was called the Pains and Penalties Bill because George IV was a petty bitch. Witnesses were called during the reading of the Bill in the House of Lords, which effectively made the process a public trial of Caroline’s conduct. Needless to say, it caused a SENSATION. This time, there were plenty of witnesses who could and did attest to her intimacy with Pergami.

The Bill passed the House of Lords but was then tabled, because in spite of the revelations about Pergami, Caroline remained immensely popular. Many people thought that the King “was allowed by means of the Bill of Pains and Penalties to achieve what no adulterous subject of his could achieve – divorce without ‘clean hands’.” Remember that, in those days, only the innocent, non-adulterous party could seek divorce … and the king was certainly no innocent. For her part, Caroline demonstrated her quick wit when she told her friends that she had committed adultery only once – with the husband of Mrs. Fitzherbert. It was a good burn.

So George IV was, once again, thwarted in his attempts to be rid of Caroline. Nothing came of the Bill, and Caroline got her annual allowance of £50,000, no strings attached this time. The press rushed to commemorate her triumph against the king in broadsheets, pamphlets, and books. People didn’t care if Caroline was actually innocent of adultery or not; one publisher expressed the mood of the nation when he wrote that she was “an injured wife, although I could not doubt that she was a depraved woman.” George IV gnashed his teeth and threatened to resign the throne and retire to Hanover over the injustice of it all, though, of course, he did nothing of the sort in the end.

In May 1821, when news of Napoleon’s death was brought to George IV with the announcement “Sir, your bitterest enemy is dead”, he responded “Is she, by God?”

Alas, Caroline was very much still alive and very much still in the country.

This was a problem because George IV was adamant that she should not be allowed to attend his coronation. Tricky, that, what with Caroline being the queen and all. But George was not going to be deterred this time. Because of his determination to snub Caroline, the coronation was the occasion of yet another public debacle. On this supposedly momentous occasion, the assembled London crowds were treated to the spectacle of the Queen, dressed to the nines, banging on the doors of Westminster Abbey, which had been barred against her, screaming to be allowed inside. It was an undignified moment for all involved, but especially for Caroline. She eventually retreated and left the scene, never having succeeded in gaining access to the coronation ceremony, but not before the crowd had turned on her, jeering and heckling her. She had finally gone too far.

That night, at supper with her friends, Carolina tried to put on a brave face, but nobody was deceived; while she laughed, “tears of anguish” rolled down her face. Within days, she was gravely ill and began to make arrangements for her death. In a final “f*ck you” to her despised husband, she gave instructions that she was to be buried in Brunswick with a tomb bearing the inscription “Caroline of Brunswick, the injured Queen of England”. She died on August 7, 1821 at the age of 53, a sh*t-disturber to the end.

And so we come to the end of our Georgian series – though, of course, the Hanoverians went on to have more kings and more scandals. No other queen consort would rival Caroline though, at least not in scandal-making ability … at least not until we get to the present day. Which is DEFINITELY a story for another time and another newsletter. Not this one. This one is going to cover one more historical scandal next week, about a playboy prince and his problematic mistress. No, not the one you’re thinking of. The OTHER one.

Selected Bibliography

Lucy Worsley, Courtiers: The Secret History of the Georgian Court

Stella Tillyard, A Royal Affair: George III and His Scandalous Siblings

Flora Fraser, The Unruly Queen: The Life of Queen Caroline