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  And there she would be— stark naked. Imagine her mother’s face!

  Oh, my dear, how shocked they will be at the English Court if they hear of

  this!’

  And why? she would like to know. Cousin George, Prince of Wales, was

  rather a shocking young man himself. He, too, chafed against restriction. How

  frustrating parents were! How they spoilt their children’s lives!

  No, even she could not do such a thing. Her invention would not desert her.

  She would think of a way of punishing them for not allowing her to the ball.

  ————————

  From her window Caroline saw the had lined the streets to see the guests

  arrive in their gowns and glittering jewels. One of the most elaborate balls ever given at the Ducal Palace and the Princess Caroline not there to enjoy it!

  She pictured her father and mother at the head of the great staircase receiving

  their guests. Deep curtsies; sweeping bows; and in command— Madame de

  Hertzfeldt, whom everyone would know was the real hostess; and if they wanted any favours it was to the mistress they must go, not to the wife.

  And she, Caroline, should have been there, standing beside her parents,

  receiving the bows and curtsies— homage due to the daughter of the house.

  None of the children would be there. She and Frederick William were the only

  ones who could be, and Frederick William certainly was a little young.

  ‘But I am sixteen,’ she cried. ‘It is cruel and wicked to stop me from going to

  the ball. And I’ll make them sorry for this.’

  She started to laugh, contemplating the plan which had been in her mind all

  day. She had felt it was far more workable than the Aphrodite one and would

  cause them even more distress. And serve them right!

  ————————

  Her father would now be opening the ball. Now was the moment. She

  undressed, flinging her clothes about the room; then she took a pot of paste from her cupboard and smeared it over her face. The effect made her chuckle. It was

  horrible, It made her look like a ghost. She raised her eyes in an expression of

  agony. Wonderful! She looked like a girl about to breathe her last.

  She got into bed and began to scream.

  Two of her serving maids came running in.

  ‘I— I think I am going to die,’ she said. ‘Pray— go— quickly. Bring the

  Duke and the Duchess.’

  Her maids stared at her as she fell back on her pillows, making queer rattling

  noises in her throat. Terrified they ran off.

  Caroline pictured the scene in the ballroom: the frightened maids appearing

  suddenly, forgetting all etiquette in view of the startling news they had to convey,

  ————————

  ‘Oh, my God,’ said the Duchess, and looked as if she would faint.

  But the Duke was beside her. ‘We will go to her at once.’ He glanced at

  Madame de Hertzfeldt who could always be relied on in a crisis.

  As they hastily left the ballroom he heard her explaining to the guests that the

  Princess Caroline was indisposed and that this was the reason for the temporary

  absence of the Ducal pair.

  The whole ballroom was abuzz with the news. The Princess Caroline taken

  suddenly ill. What an unfortunate family. Those three boys—

  Meanwhile in Caroline’s bedroom her parents were gazing in dismay at her

  livid features distorted into an expression of agony.

  ‘My child!’ cried the Duchess. ‘Where is the pain? Pray tell us— if you can.’

  Caroline could scarcely keep back her mirth.

  ‘I— I cannot hide it any longer,’ she said. ‘I— I am in labor. Pray send at

  once for an accoucheur.’

  ‘Oh my God!’ cried the Duchess again.

  The Duke had turned pale. ‘It is not possible—’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ cried Caroline. ‘I fear so. I am about to give birth to my child—

  and if you do not send for an accoucheur immediately, I shall die— and the child with me.’

  The Duke turned to the Duchess. ‘Get one—’ he said. ‘For God’s sake, call

  the accoucheur.’

  Caroline groaned and cried: ‘My pains— they are coming fast. Make haste

  —’

  The Duchess turned, but she did not have to speak. The maids who had been

  hovering in the doorway immediately, ran to fetch an accoucheur.

  It was impossible to keep such a fact secret. All the guests were aware that the

  accoucheur had been sent for that he might attend the Princess Caroline, who was in labour.

  What a shocking affair! How unlucky the Duke was in his family! Those idiot

  boys— the blind one— and now the Princess Caroline was about to present the

  Duke and Duchess with an illegitimate grandchild. If she could have done so

  secretly— well, this kind of misadventure was not so uncommon— but during a

  ball, so that all the guests should know! What a spicy piece of gossip! No wonder they could talk of nothing else. Indeed they would remember this ball all their

  lives.

  Madame de Hertzfeldt heard the talk but what could she do? She had not a

  chance. If she could have prevented the news seeping out she would have done

  so, but it was too late.

  It was not possible to continue with the ball while the Princess was in her

  apartments giving birth, and the whole Court knew it.

  With dignity Madame de Hertzfeldt addressed the company. The ball could

  not go on, she explained, owing to the indisposition of the Princess Caroline.

  So the guests departed and Madame de Hertzfeldt went at once to the

  Princess’s bedroom.

  There an extraordinary scene greeted her.

  The accoucheur had arrived and when he prepared to examine the Princess

  she had leaped out of bed, wiped the paste from her face which then appeared to

  be its natural colour and began dancing round the bedchamber.

  Then she came and bowed low before her mother.

  ‘That, Madam,’ she announced, ‘will teach you to keep me from another ball.’

  ————————

  What could one do with the Princess Caroline? Could she be punished? In

  what way?

  The Duke and Madame de Hertzfeldt discussed the matter at great length.

  ‘A whipping?’ suggested the Duke.

  But Madame de Hertzfeldt was unsure. With unbalanced characters

  sometimes corporal punishment could be dangerous.

  She must soothe the Duke though. ‘She is too high spirited,’ she said. ‘I think

  we must try to understand—’

  ‘You mean,’ replied the Duke sombrely, ‘that we must remember her

  brothers.’

  ‘I am sure,’ answered Madame de Hertzfeldt, ‘that Caroline is good at heart.

  She has a bright intelligence; she has wit. Her spirits are too high most certainly and she is a little.. eccentric. But it is no more. Oh, my dear, let us do all in our power to see that it does not become more.’

  The Duke gave his mistress a grateful look.

  ‘I shall leave it to you,’ ‘he said. ‘Perhaps you will discover how best to treat her and advise the Duchess.’

  And he thought once more: What should we do without her?

  ————————

  Caroline was overcome with glee and thought with pleasure of that incident

  for months afterwards. She forgot that the guests had all been aware that on the

  night of the ball an accoucheur had come to the palace to attend her.


  ‘Of course,’ said rumour, ‘we have not been told the truth. The accoucheur

  came to deliver a child which naturally was, smuggled out of the palace.’

  Others, who were sure that there had not been a child and the whole affair had

  been arranged by Caroline as a protest, were certain that she had not escaped the family taint of madness.

  So the rumours had begun in earnest. Caroline, Princess of Brunswick, was

  either the mother of an illegitimate child or she was mad.

  Caroline in Love

  THE Princess Caroline was past twenty and still unmarried. The Prince of

  Orange had been a possible choice and so had the Prince of Prussia, But Caroline, who had been so eager for marriage, decided against them for she had made up

  her mind that when she married it would be for love.

  There had been strange and mystifying news of her sister Charlotte. No one at

  Brunswick was quite sure what had happened to Charlotte but Caroline’s dramatic

  imagination supplied her with violent pictures.

  Where was Charlotte? She was at the Court of Russia where her husband had

  left her, and he had taken her three children from her. To be deprived of her

  children! thought Caroline. What a bitter tragedy! And why had Charlotte allowed

  that to happen ? Because she was powerless to stop it, was the answer.

  Charlotte had been an unfaithful wife, it was said. That was possible. Her

  husband had put her under the care of the Empress Catherine of Russia, that

  woman whose amours were notorious throughout Europe. And Charlotte had

  simply disappeared.

  How she would like to go to Russia, to discover what had happened to her

  sister, to travel and be adventurous! But all the same the affair of Charlotte made one wary of undertaking a marriage which would send one among strangers far

  from home.

  She told her father so when they walked together in the grounds about the

  Palace, for as she grew older so did the affection between them strengthen and he was the only member of the household with whom she could discuss her

  innermost thoughts. Her mother was a silly woman, she decided, and although she

  accepted the virtues of Madame de Hertzfeldt, the fact of her supremacy in the

  household did make an uneasy position, in spite of the fact that none of them

  knew what they would do without her. If Madame de Hertzfeldt had been the

  Duchess and her mother, then she could have confided in both her parents.

  Moreover, with such a mother might she not have been more serene, more what

  they called balanced? Who could say? But there was her father, and when he was

  not away from home fighting his battles under the command of his friend and

  patron, Frederick the Great, or was not engaged on state matters at home, he had

  time for his daughter. The only son who could possibly rule after him was

  learning his business as a soldier, and Caroline was like an only daughter now that Charlotte had gone.

  He often brooded on the boys living out their lives in darkness; on Charlotte

  who, he was certain, had been murdered in Russia; and asked himself why he and

  his fertile wife had produced such a brood. Then he turned to gay, lovely and

  pretty Caroline— for in his eyes she possessed all these qualities— and told

  himself that at least he had this daughter. And since that affair of the accoucheur she had become less wild He had been the one who had explained to her the folly

  of such actions and how they grieved him, and he was a little comforted to see

  that it was the latter which had made most impression on her.

  She had put her hand shyly in his— for in spite of all her bravado she was a

  little afraid of him— and had said ‘Papa, I would not wish to make you sad.’

  When he had reported this scene later to Madame de Hertzfeldt she had been

  pleased and said that the way to mould Caroline was through affection and it was

  her father who could guide her because there was no doubt that she loved and

  admired him; and what was perhaps most important of all, respected him.

  So when her father sent for her and told her that the Prince of Orange was

  asking for her hand in marriage she went quietly away and considered all she had

  heard of the Prince of Orange and decided against the match. Then she returned to explain her feelings to her father.

  ‘I wish to be married,’ she explained, ‘but I do not wish to be unhappy as my

  sister must have been. There is much unhappiness in marriage and I would

  approach it very cautiously.’

  ‘That’s a wise attitude, I have to admit,’ replied her father.

  ‘Dear Papa,’ she went on, ‘he would have to be a very attractive bridegroom

  to make me want to leave you.’

  Yes, he had succeeded with her through affection. He had a nightmare picture

  of her being forced into marriage. What disaster would that bring forth? He dared not speculate for he believed that his unwelcome marriage was the reason why he

  had three afflicted children. They had found the way to treat Caroline: affection, restraint only when necessary and applied with the gentlest hands, and just a dash of fear— or perhaps respect would be a more apt description.

  In any case, the Duke had inspired her with enough admiration and affection

  to be able to guide her.

  ‘My dearest daughter,’ he told her, ‘I want you to know that I shall never

  force you into marriage. You shall only go away from home if you wish it.’

  He was rewarded by her response.

  ‘Dearest Papa, you put me in a quandary. I wish to marry. Above all I wish to

  have children. Yet I know I shall never wish to leave you.’

  ‘You will one day. It is natural for you to marry. The day will come. But I

  want you to know that you will never be forced to accept a marriage which is

  distasteful to you.’

  Oh, yes, it was certainly right. There was a rare softness in her eyes subduing

  the habitual wildness. This was the way to treat Caroline. And they must employ

  this method or they would have another tragedy like Charlotte’s.

  So she declined the Princes of Orange and Prussia.

  ————————

  The Duchess was excited and came to her daughter’s apartments to tell her

  why. Caroline’s servants were there but the Duchess never worried about

  servants; she looked upon them as though they were pieces of furniture and it

  never occurred to her that they possessed ears and tongues and might be as fond

  of gossip as she was herself.

  ‘What do you think, Caroline? My nephew is coming to Brunswick.’

  ‘Not— the Prince of Wales!’

  ‘Oh, how I wish that were so! Not quite— my dear. But the next best thing.

  His brother, the Duke of York. I am most excited.’

  ‘Oh, Mamma, you think everything English is better than anything else.’

  ‘So it is! So it is! If I could only make you see the Court— Not so much as my brother made his but my grandfather’s Court. Everything would have been so

  different if my father had not died before he could come to the throne. just, think of it, Caroline, now I am the daughter of a Prince of Wales whereas I might have

  been the daughter of a King.’

  ‘Well, Mamma, you were of the same family.’

  ‘Not quite the same, Caroline. Not quite the same. And oh— the intrigue that

  went on. My mother and er— her friend on one side— the King on the other.’

  ‘Tell me abou
t your mother’s— friend, Mamma.’

  ‘I certainly shall not.’

  ‘There is no need really so I’m happy to relieve you of the necessity. I know

  already. Lord Bute became the lover of the— Princess of Wales after the Prince

  died.’

  ‘Where do you hear such wicked scandals?’ demanded the Duchess.

  Caroline smiled demurely. ‘From you, Mamma.’

  The Duchess made an impatient sound with her lips. ‘Oh, everything here is

  so drab. So different from England. One must enliven the days if only with memories. I was a person of some account in England, Caroline.’

  Caroline regarded her mother quizzically. Was she? Could she ever have

  been? Caroline had a picture of her mother, the Princess Royal of England, vainly attempting to meddle in Court politics— ineffectually of course.

  Caroline softened towards her mother then and hoped that she would never be

  like her. Of course she would not. She would be like her father— a Brunswicker

  with a lion in her heart.

  ‘Mamma,’ she said gently, ‘you were telling me about the Duke of York—’

  ‘Oh, yes, he is coming here to see us. He is a great soldier, you know, and has

  been distinguishing himself on the Continent. He is a year younger than the

  Prince of Wales and I have had letters from my brother about him.’

  ‘That, Mamma, must have made you very happy— to have letters from the

  King of England.’

  ‘Very gratifying. It may well be, Caroline, that His Majesty is sending his son

  here for a purpose.’

  Caroline nodded. She was on her feet, parading about the room, and turning to

  her mother she curtsied. Then she strolled about looking over her shoulder at the Duchess. ‘Will I suit, Sir Duke? Am I worthy to be the consort of a Duke?’ Then

  with an English accent: ‘We will see. We will see. I am an English Duke, do not

  forget. My brother is the Prince of Wales.’ She pretended to take a quizzing glass from her pocket and held it up continuing to make comments in that voice with

  the ridiculous English accent.

  Caroline was almost choking with laughter but the Duchess was not amused.

  ‘Stop it, Caroline. You are most— most— improper.’

  But Caroline would not stop. She was carrying on with this ridiculous charade