CAROLINE
As 1793 moved into 1794, George’s financial problems remained unresolved and even worsened, as he failed to translate his good resolutions to economize into practical effect. His personal life was also falling into disarray again. Relations with Maria Fitzherbert were fading, and it was clear that the way to the King’s pocket lay through a marriage to a suitable German princess and the birth of a legitimate future heir to the throne. The Prince’s debts would then be paid and he would be provided with an increased income. The choice of a bride was a restricted one, for few suitable candidates could be found, and, whether or not by Lady Jersey’s choice, it had fallen on Caroline, daughter of the Duke and Duchess of Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel, the latter being George III’s sister. The King was pleased with the match and wrote joyfully to Pitt that ‘the Prince of Wales … has … broken off all connection with Mrs Fitzherbert, and [expressed] … his desire to entering [sic] into a more creditable line by marrying; expressing at the same time that my niece, the Princess of Brunswick, may be the person’. He told his son that he had ‘made him quite happy’ and that he could have wished for such an alliance himself.1 All the rest of the family approved, with the significant exception of the Queen, who favoured her own niece Louise of Mecklenburg and whose dislike of her future daughter-in-law was to remain evident for the rest of her life. She told her brother, the Duke of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, that, according to a relative of the Brunswick family, Caroline was so badly behaved and untrustworthy with men that a governess was detailed to accompany her at all times and especially at dances, to check her ‘indecent conversations’. Frederick however wrote to declare that Caroline was ‘a very fine girl and in every respect in my opinion a very proper match for you’. So the Prince was led towards disaster.2
Caroline Amelia Elizabeth of Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel was born in 1768, nearly six years later than her future husband. She grew up ‘a lively, pretty child with light-coloured hair hanging in curls on her neck, with rosebud lips … and always simply and modestly dressed’.3 The Brunswick court lacked the stiff formality of most petty German princely courts and Caroline was something of a tomboy, loving parties and frivolous gossip with her lady companions. At the age of twenty-six she was still unmarried, with no likely suitor in sight until she was chosen as the future Princess of Wales. George himself had nothing to do with the choice. He was prepared to marry anyone considered suitable, only to escape the mountain of debts that now threatened to overwhelm him: ‘Any damn’d German frau would do’, he is said to have uttered. Portraits were exchanged so that the young couple would have some idea of each other’s appearance, but as is often the way with royal portraits the images turned out to be somewhat idealized. George’s concealed the fact of his increasing stoutness, and Caroline’s provided little clue as to her boisterous and uneducated personality. They were not to meet until three days before their wedding day, when the shock of reality struck them both.
Lord Malmesbury, formerly Sir James Harris, a Whig politician turned diplomat and an old acquaintance of the Prince, was sent to Brunswick in the autumn of 1794, partly to co-ordinate future operations in northern Germany against the French, but chiefly to bring Caroline back to England – a slightly hazardous expedition while the campaigns in the Netherlands were still going on. As might have been expected, the return journey was delayed over the winter in Hanover for reasons of bad weather and Caroline’s safety and during that time Malmesbury had ample opportunity to get to know her.4 He was apprehensive at what he saw. His first impression was that she had a pretty face, but ‘not expressive of softness’, a figure ‘not graceful’ but with ‘fine eyes – good hand – tolerable teeth, but going – fair hair and eyebrows, good bust …’. This cautious estimate soon gave way to dismay at her skittish behaviour, gossipy manner, and a certain lack of hygiene in person and dress. Three weeks later he noted that she ‘has no fond, no fixed character, a light and flighty mind, but meaning well, and well-disposed’. She was anxious to find out what would be expected of her at the English court, but she seemed to lack the steadiness and self-discipline to adjust her behaviour accordingly. Whatever the Prince’s lack of consideration for others and his bad habits and self-indulgence, he was, as Malmesbury was well aware, a fastidious and cultivated individual with a high sense of social proprieties and etiquette. Caroline was bound to fail these tests and Malmesbury feared the worst.
He set himself to try to remedy the most obvious of her defects before she met the Prince, for there was no hope of cancelling the marriage contract and he must do what he could to make her acceptable. He lectured her on her dress and her neglect of her toilette, with the assistance of a German and an English lady at court to deal with the more delicate aspects of the task, hoping at least that she would present herself ‘well washed all over’. He feared however that these matters made only a temporary impression on a mind naturally flighty and lacking depth. He admitted her quick intelligence and warm feelings but he saw her as essentially a trivial and impressionable woman lacking judgement or discretion. With the Prince this was a recipe for disaster, and so it turned out. When she eventually arrived in London and was presented to him by Malmesbury there occurred the famous scene when she attempted to kneel before him but the Prince turned aside after a perfunctory embrace, retired to a far corner of the room, demanded a glass of brandy, and fled ‘with an oath’ to the Queen, leaving his bride astonished at both his corpulence and his brusqueness. Since she was not entirely unattractive in appearance, his disgust may have arisen from what Malmesbury had feared, her failure to wash ‘all over’.
At dinner that evening Caroline, now thoroughly flustered, made matters worse with conversation which Malmesbury described as ‘flippant, rattling, affecting raillery and wit, and throwing out coarse vulgar hints about Lady [Jersey], who was present’. Caroline had been warned in an anonymous letter before leaving Brunswick about the Prince’s affair with Lady Jersey and though both he and she naturally denied that she was his mistress Caroline had no doubt that she was – and had therefore been scandalized when George had sent Lady Jersey to meet her from the boat, to order her to change her dress, and to be her lady-in-waiting. As Malmesbury noted, ‘this unfortunate dinner fixed his dislike’. It was downhill all the way from then. As George declared on the way to the wedding, to his friend Lord Moira, ‘It’s no use, Moira, I shall never love any woman but Fitzherbert.’
It was far too late to change anything now, and on 8 April 1795 in the evening the marriage ceremony took place at St James’s, with the King, Queen, princesses and courtiers present. The bride, in white silver tissue, lined with ermine and richly ornamented with jewels, a coronet and robe of crimson velvet with ermine border, seemed happy and animated, chatting to her bridesmaids and attendants. The groom, however, was strangely detached, and seemed more interested in Lady Jersey than in following the ceremony. The King, optimistically as it turned out, had written to his son that morning to wish that his bride’s character ‘may … prove so pleasing to you that your mind may be engrossed with domestic felicity … and that a numerous progeny may be the result of this union’. Perhaps to emphasize the point, the Archbishop of Canterbury, who officiated, was seen to pause meaningfully at the passage concerning ‘any lawful impediment’ and twice repeated the injunction to ‘live from that time in nuptial fidelity’. The Prince was observed to be unsteady on his feet and had to be supported by his two groomsmen. Lady Maria Stuart thought he ‘looked like death’. It was not emotion that was affecting him, but alcohol. Further consumption at the subsequent dinner rendered him incapable and according to his new wife he collapsed on the floor of their bridal chamber and spent the wedding night lying insensible by the fireplace. When he recovered consciousness in the morning he summoned her into bed and apparently managed to perfom his duty to his country. Three days later he actually called his carriage to go to Maria Fitzherbert and had to be physically restrained by his equerry.5
The honeymoon was equally disastrous. After two days at Windsor they drove off to Kempshott where a party of the Prince’s male cronies gathered, with Lady Jersey the only female guest, and, again according to Caroline’s later account, the men spent the time drinking, gambling and carousing, lying about in their dirty boots, ‘sleeping & snoring in bouts on the sofas … the whole resembled a bad brothel much more than a palace’.6
Nevertheless, for a few months the Prince and Princess managed to live together in reasonable harmony and appeared in public on friendly if not affectionate terms, though it seems likely that after two or three weeks they ceased to sleep together and Lady Jersey’s constant presence was a major irritant. Yet Caroline was pregnant, and on 7 January, nine months to the day after her wedding, her daughter Charlotte, ‘an immense girl’, was born after twelve hours’ difficult labour. The Prince was sufficiently concerned for his wife to stay up two whole nights before the birth, and sufficiently relieved to write to his mother that ‘notwithstanding we might have wish’d for a boy, I receive her with all the affection possible’. Yet two days afterwards he sat down to write out a will, a long, rambling document evidently composed in a state of nervous excitement bordering on hysteria, leaving all his personal property to ‘my Maria Fitzherbert, my wife, the wife of my heart & soul, & though by the laws of this country she could not avail herself publicly of that name, still such she is in the eyes of Heaven …’. To ‘her who is call’d the Princess of Wales’ he left one shilling, while the care and education of his daughter he entrusted to the King and Queen and after them to his brothers and sisters, insisting that ‘the mother of this child’ was to be ‘in no way’ concerned in her care or education.7
Why the Prince should act in this manner it is difficult to know. He was not suffering from any physical illness, though the stress of the last few days evidently affected him and he was copiously bled by his doctors. Yet unless he had some fear or premonition of approaching death it is almost inconceivable that he would so suddenly dredge up his deepest emotions and feelings for Maria. What it does show is that despite the superficial appearance of contentment in his marriage he was seething with hidden resentment against his wife.
This came out into the open in the middle of March 1796, when after a quarrel with her he admitted to Lord Malmesbury that he was considering a separation. Malmesbury warned him that his private feelings must not be allowed to override his public duty, and that such a step would have dangerous consequences for the country in the present time of discontent and disaffection. George reminded the Earl that immediately after his marriage Malmesbury had told him his opinion of the Princess’s character and regretted that he had gone through with the marriage: those forebodings had been justified, and despite an attempt a few months before to discuss and resolve their differences he and Caroline remained incompatible.8
Caroline now took the offensive and towards the end of April wrote a letter to her husband, since, she declared, she never had the opportunity to speak to him alone, and objected to being made to dine tête-à-tête with Lady Jersey ‘qui est votre maitresse’, and to have to spend all day in her company. The Prince was outraged at this outspokenness and indignantly, but hardly truthfully, denied that Lady Jersey was any other than ‘a friend to whom I am attached by the strong ties of habitude, esteem and respect’. He concluded a long letter of stinging reproof by writing that ‘we have unfortunately been oblig’d to acknowledge to each other that we cannot find happiness in our union’ and in a further letter asserted that it was court etiquette, and not his behaviour, that ‘prevents your mode of life from being more gay and amusing’. If she wished for more of his company ‘the natural mode of obtaining it is to make my own house not obnoxious to me’. He was willing to live on terms of ‘tranquil and comfortable society’ and to accept her stipulation that there should be no further intimacy between them, but no more.9
Caroline appealed to the King, who had always been kind to her, and laid the whole matter before him. At the same time she demanded that the Prince should dismiss Lady Jersey from her household, which he flatly refused to do on the grounds that it would ‘confirm every slander’ about her relationship with him. However, she persisted, declaring that it was intolerable that a woman she regarded as the cause of their inability to live as man and wife should remain under her roof.
The Prince now determined to end the matter for good and wrote at length to his father, laying all the blame on his wife and ‘a party’ who he alleged were using her to ‘strike at the whole Royal Family’, and asking for a ‘final separation’.10 It was true that Caroline’s case had become public knowledge – The Times disclosed on 24 May that a ‘separation in high life’ was imminent and on 10 June wrote bluntly of ‘high personages’ who ‘stoop to the most disgraceful connexions’ and whose ‘vices, disorders and imprudence raise just apprehensions for the welfare of the State, if through some unfortunate event they should be placed on the highest point of the political and social State’. If there was any doubt where public sympathy lay it was quelled when Caroline attended the opera at the end of May and the audience reacted with cheers, rising to their feet ‘as if electrified by her presence’. The Prince attributed the demonstration to the work of close friends of Mrs Fitzherbert, chiefly Lord Hugh Seymour, Lord Hertford, Jack Payne, Lady Stafford and others ‘whose views have been disappointed’. He urged his mother to persuade the King to ‘throw some stigma, & one very strong mark of disapprobation upon the Princess, [or] this worthless wretch will prove the ruin of him, of you, of me, of every one of us’. Otherwise, he compared the likely outcome with the results of the weakness of Louis XVI. George’s almost hysterical denunciation of Caroline’s ‘personal nastiness’ and ‘entire want of all principle’ and descriptions of her as ‘a very monster of iniquity’ showed that he had lost all control of his temper: and never in all these letters was there the slightest hint that he himself might bear any of the blame.11
The press continued to provoke his fury. On 2 June the True Briton, normally a pro-government paper, deplored the ‘unmerited ill-treatment’ suffered by an ‘amiable and accomplished personage’ and the ‘total disregard to the opinions of the world’ shown by ‘the gentleman principally concerned’ who was ‘incorrigible’ and who was doing more to promote Jacobinism than all the labours of the radicals. It ended by asserting that Lord Jersey had sought an audience of the King ‘to assure HIS MAJESTY that Lady JERSEY was the most pure and virtuous woman living!!!’ It was a portent of the future, for throughout Caroline’s life a large section of the press and the public was eager to take up her cause and to use her to discredit her husband. In this respect at least the Prince must be regarded as one of the chief authors of his own misfortunes and of his long-lasting if not wholly justified reputation, even beyond the grave, as a heardess, unfeeling, disreputable liar and cheat.
His father too was inclined to blame George for what was happening. He returned the letter which George had written under the stress of the True Briton article and begged him to be calmer and reflect on the consequences of his intended course of action. He read him a lesson on his royal duty: his marriage was not a merely private matter and Parliament as well as public opinion would not look favourably on a separation the result of which could only be evil for the country and the throne. He admitted that Caroline’s conduct had been ill-judged, but pointed out that George had made no attempt to guide her in her inexperience. Even George’s favourite sister Elizabeth wrote to beg him to recollect that he was not a private gentleman and that everything he did was of public consequence.12
The Prince had always resented the way he had, as he saw it, been forced into marriage with someone he had never loved or even liked, for reasons of state and as the price of his rescue from bankruptcy and financial ruin. That his predicament had been self-inflicted did not cross his mind, and he seems to have set out from the very moment of his meeting with Caroline with a determination not to allow his marriage to interfere with his established habits, friendships or pleasures. No woman with any spirit would tolerate such conduct, and whatever Caroline’s failings, lack of spirit was never one of them.
For the time being the matter was patched up, and Caroline continued to live at Carlton House though no longer on close terms with her husband. Yet he seemed incapable of refraining from provoking her and even the Queen remonstrated with him in September when she discovered from The Times that he had ordered the house next door to Carlton House to be fitted up for the residence of Lord and Lady Jersey. His assurance that ‘it was done merely to make it more convenient for Lord Jersey to carry out his duties’ of supervising the Prince’s stables was rather thin but he took the opportunity again to refer to ‘the injustice & persecution of the world’ and ‘the same pack of blood hounds, or hell hounds’ around the Princess who were doing all they could to traduce him.13
A month later he refused to allow Caroline to pay a social visit to the Cholmondeleys at Houghton on the ground that it seemed to be part of a scheme for her to travel round the country to enlist popular support against him and, to rub salt into the wound, furthermore ‘at my expence’. He also remonstrated against her having disobeyed the rules established for her at Carlton House by inviting guests to dinner and evening parties beyond the list of those approved by him. Caroline submitted to the cancellation of her visit but complained of being denied ‘those innocent pleasure[s] consistant with my rank’: the Prince replied that those pleasures must be consistent with ‘etiquette or precedent’. He wished to keep Caroline out of the public eye as much as possible: he had become almost paranoiac about the possibility of her becoming a popular heroine and the focus of hostility towards him. He even embarked himself on a visit to Bath to receive the freedom of the city, during which at the Duke of York’s house he favoured the assembled company with several songs ‘in his best manner’.14
Nevertheless the Princess remained the recipient of public sympathy. Lady Jersey continued to reign as favourite – Lady Stafford remarked in June that the Prince was entirely under her thumb and that she rode through the courts at Carlton House attended by a servant in his livery. Even her ‘reign’ however came to an end: Lady Stafford reported her departure in August 1798 and said the Prince had taken up with a Miss Fox, one of the former mistresses of Lord Egremont and mother of several children, who was said to be a rather matronly figure. ‘Elderly Dames seem to be his taste’, she remarked.15
Caroline finally left Carlton House in February 1797 and went to live at Blackheath. In December she demanded an interview with her husband and declared that she would no longer obey him. The King refused to allow a formal separation on the ground that as the Lord Chancellor, Lord Loughborough, advised, ‘a separation on mere disagreement of temper’ was contrary to law, religion and morality, and that such a step in the royal family would ‘gratify the malevolence of those who wish to promote a system of licentiousness’ and undermine public confidence in the government and constitution. Nevertheless, the Prince and Princess never lived under the same roof again.16 Caroline set up her own establishment and embarked on a life of pleasure in the company of a wide assortment of men and women of distinction or notoriety. Blackheath became a magnet for the frivolous and the socially ambitious and her dinner parties were as uninhibited as her husband’s, as she attracted leading politicians of both sides to her table, and sometimes to her bed. She also interested herself in charitable causes, especially those relating to children. Her appearances in public were always welcomed: crowds turned out to see her pass in the streets and applauded her in the theatres, and she became regarded as a woman wronged by a cruel and dissolute husband who had deserted her for a life of debauchery. The popular view was one-sided and unjust, but the Prince had brought it on himself.
There was not even the compensation of the higher income which he had been promised and which had been the chief inducement for his marriage. His debts had mounted to over £400,000 by the end of 1793, but at that time it was argued that application to Parliament would be likely to arouse republican agitation. A royal wedding, and even better the prospect of an heir to the throne, might have the contrary effect and loosen the public purse-strings. Soon after the marriage, in June 1795, a new ‘plan of establishment’ was drawn up, allocating an increased income of £65,000 made up of £12,253 for Princess of Wales, an extra £44,000 for George’s own establishment and £8,396 for the stables. His total income was thus to rise from £73,000 to £138,000, including the duchy revenue, and additional sums of £27,000 were to be granted to meet the cost of jewels and plate and £25,000 for items connected with the marriage. A further £45,000 was allocated to finish Carlton House.17
However, to the astonishment of the House of Commons, it was now disclosed that since the settlement of 1787 George had incurred further debts totalling £630,000. The public was hardly likely to favour the provision of taxpayers’ money to finance such unwarranted extravagance and even the Foxites in the Commons rebelled. Grey even proposed a reduction of £25,000 in the additional income, in terms which the Prince considered highly offensive, and which virtually completed the alienation between them:
It was a duty which they owed to the Prince himself, to teach him, if reflection had not taught him, that as his family were chosen to the throne for the good of the people, so that his situation was created not merely for luxury and indulgence, but in subservience to that great end; and that they were bound in turn to consult his comfort and enjoyment, that the obligation on their part ceased, if these became his sole objects; and that in consequence of the provision made for the support of his rank, thousands ought to bless his munificence and bounty, not to lament his extravagance and folly.18
Grey’s words were not unjust and undoubtedly echoed what many felt, but his amendment was lost by 99 votes to 260 and the rest of the scheme was accepted. There was a proviso that £65,000 a year rather than £25,000 in the original plan was to be set aside for the payment of debts, so cancelling out the notional increase in income. The Bill now passed comfortably, but at the expense of George’s comfort: he had to reduce his establishment and live once more as a private individual, forgoing lavish entertainments and appearing in public without the elaborate trappings of royalty. Furthermore, his financial affairs were to be managed by five commissioners, including the Speaker of the Commons and Pitt as Chancellor of the Exchequer. His scope for further extravagance seemed to have been curbed. After all, the marriage which was to have solved the Prince’s financial difficulties left him no better off, while there was no compensation in terms of personal happiness.
The failure of the Prince’s marriage had already turned George’s thoughts back to Maria Fitzherbert. In the will which he wrote in January 1796 he had declared her to be his only true wife: in May he demanded a formal separation from Caroline, and followed it by sending Maria a letter via his brother Ernest laying himself again at her feet. Ernest reported that Maria was ‘frightened to death’ by the letter and would say no more than that she had ‘a very sincere regard’ for him, but she feared that ‘if she did make it up, you would not agree a fortnight’.19 She continued for another three years to hold him at arm’s length, never being alone with him but meeting occasionally in society. He continued to send her messages, directly or through friends, but she could not get over her distaste for his conduct towards Caroline or, especially, Princess Charlotte. Maria was fond of children and she thought George’s neglect of and lack of open affection for his daughter showed him in a bad light.
George made no secret of his longing to be reunited with Maria and his manner alone made it plain. In the autumn of 1798 his sister Augusta wrote of her ‘very great concern’ at his ‘dejected appearance’, assured him that she was certain that his ‘real affection, not to say adoration’ was reciprocated, and urged a reconciliation as the only cure for his depression. She declared that all the family would welcome it and that it was the ‘only chance of your really being happy’ again.20 The Prince told his friend the Duchess of Rutland after he and Maria had met by chance at Belvoir that a reunion with her was the only circumstance ‘that can ever give me a taste again for life’ and asked the Duchess to assure her that his affair with Lady Jersey ‘is finally at an end’. A few days later he was driven nearly frantic by a report that Maria had died at Bath and told the Duchess that even the news of her recovery left him ‘in a dreadful state still’.21
He now redoubled his efforts to persuade Maria to come back to him and, as had happened fourteen years before, her resolve began to weaken under the onslaught of his frantic messages and letters. He sensed that she was wavering, and in June 1799 he again sent Ernest to her with a letter with numerous capital letters and underlinings declaring passionately that ‘I AM WRAPP’D UP IN YOU ENTIRELY … NOTHING CAN ALTER ME, SHAKE ME OR CHANGE ME’: if she rejected him he would end his life, or at least disclose to the world the fact of their marriage and the participation in the ceremony of her uncle and brother.22 This was nothing short of blackmail and it put Maria into a terrible dilemma. She could not bring herself to go through all the frenzy of 1785 again, but she could not imperil her family. She decided on an appeal to the Pope: if he would endorse their marriage and tell her that she was in duty bound to return to her husband she would obey the dictates of her Church.
In the spring of 1800 the Pope’s answer arrived: she must regard herself as the only true wife of the Prince and her duty lay at his side.23 Maria submitted, and London was amazed at their apparent reconciliation. In June she gave a large afternoon ‘breakfast’ party at which they presided over a gathering of the leading members of society: it set the seal on their renewed relationship. The house was full of white roses, George’s favourite flowers, and Maria appeared with a similar bouquet.24 Unexpectedly even to Maria, there now began a further period which she spoke of as the happiest years of all their connection. Maria told her cousin Lord Stourton that they were ‘extremely poor, but as merry as crickets’: on one occasion they drove back from Brighton with less than five shillings between them. This did not prevent the Prince from building a house for Maria on the Steine as well as rebuilding the Pavilion, which he kept mainly for entertaining, using Maria’s house as his home. The royal family too were reconciled to Maria’s presence, and they became very fond of her, seeing her as a good influence on her unstable husband.25
The Prince’s life now ran more smoothly than perhaps at any time. Only the constant spectre of debt disturbed his tranquillity. Politically he was still frustrated by his father’s continuing refusal to allow him an active role in support of his country. His requests for military promotion were ignored while his brothers continued to perform duties on land or at sea. In domestic politics his alienation from the Foxite Whigs persisted and was worsened by the hostile attitude of Grey and the more active younger members of the party towards his financial embarrassments. George still felt personal affection for Fox but could not sympathize with his seemingly unpatriotic attitude towards the war and Pitt’s policy of repression of radical agitation. Support of Pitt’s administration was also impossible while it seemed indifferent to his financial needs. Retreat into private life seemed his only recourse.
1 King to Pitt, Sept. 1794: Lord Stanhope, Pitt, ii, app.; George to Frederick, 29 Aug. 1794: CGPW, ii, 453–4.
2 Frederick to George, 2 Sept. 1794: ibid., 454: Queen to Duke of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, n.d. [Aug. 1794], quoted ibid., iii, 9; Fraser, 27–8.
3 Fraser, 19.
4 Harris, Malmesbury Diaries, iii, 148, 160–205, passim.
5 Ibid., 210–13, 220; Fraser, 59–62; King to George, 8 April 1795: CGPW, iii, 50–1 n; N.M. Wraxall, Memoirs, v, 391; Lady Charlotte Bury, Diary, i, 21; Queen Victoria’s Journal, Jan. 1839 and 13 Nov. 1838, and Leopold to Victoria, 17 May 1845: RAY71/63; RA Geo. 12/39.
6 Sir Gilbert to Lady Elliot, 14 July 1798: Elliot, iii, 14.
7 George to Queen, 7 Jan. 1796 and reply [7th]: Elizabeth to George, 7 Jan. 1796: CGPW, iii, 126–8; George’s will, 10 Jan. 1796: ibid., 132–40; Fraser, 74–7.
8 Malmesbury to George, 24 March 1796 and reply, 26th: CGPW, iii, 159–62.
9 Corresp. between George and Caroline, and with Lady Cholmondeley, 21–30 April 1796: ibid., 168–9.
10 Caroline to King, 7 May, to George, 26 and 30 May; George to Caroline, 27 May, to King, 31 May and reply, 2 June 1796: ibid., 182–3, 187–95.
11 George to Queen (two letters) 2 June 1796: ibid., 195–8.
12 George to King, 2 June; Loughborough to King, 2 June 1796: ibid., 199–200; extract from the True Briton, 2 June 1796: ibid., 200n.
13 Queen to George, 23 and 24 Sept and reply, 26th: ibid., 271–6: RA Queen Caroline papers, 13/7.
14 Corresp. between George, Lord Cholmondeley, Queen, Caroline, and Lady Euston, 19–24 Oct. 1796: ibid., 280–7.
15 Lady Stafford to G. Leveson Gower, 29 [June 1796] and 26 [Aug. 1796]: Harriet, Countess Granville (ed.), Private Corresp. of G. Leveson Gower, i, 122–3, 220.
16 George to King, 5 Dec. 1797; King to Caroline, 7 Dec.; George to King, 24 Dec. 1797: CGPW, iii, 378–82, 388–91.
17 Financial papers, 7 Nov. 1793 and 1795: RA 32043–6, 32063–72, 32089–97.
18 Parl. Hist., xli, 14 May 1795, 297–304 (Pitt) and 304–8 (Grey).
19 Ernest to George, 17 May 1796: CGPW, iii, 185–6.
20 Augusta to George [?1798]: ibid., 501; Richardson, 71–2.
21 George to Duchess of Rutland, 12 and [23] Feb. 1799: CGPW, iv, 12–13, 16–17.
22 George to Maria Fitzherbert, 11–12 June 1799: ibid., iv, 48–50; Anita Leslie, Mrs Fitzherbert 112–13.
23 Anita Leslie, Mrs Fitzherbert 114–16; Richardson, 73.
24 Sergeant, 237–8.
25 G. Langdale, Memoirs of Mrs Fitzherbert, 127–30; M. Bence-Jones, Catholic Families, 100.