Well, that was Uncle Clarence who was to conflict so bitterly with my mother. Next to Clarence came my father. I often wished that I did not have to rely on other people’s picture of him. It is sad never to have seen one’s own father. I loved to hear stories of him although, of course, they were not all flattering.
I knew he wished to marry Madame St. Laurent, and I came to believe that the Royal Marriage Act was responsible for a great deal of the immorality in my family, for this act forbade sons and daughters of the King who were under the age of twenty-five to marry without royal consent; and when they were past that age, they had to have the consent of Parliament. It was a cruel act in a way, but because of the nature of the Princes, I suppose it was necessary.
So my father knew he would never be allowed to marry Madame St. Laurent. I heard that she was not only beautiful but kind and wise. She had escaped from the revolution in France and must have been a very romantic figure.
The Regent had honored her. He had always been lenient with his brothers’ misdemeanours—and quite rightly so, because he had committed many himself. Poor Madame St. Laurent! I was sorry for her, but I suppose it is what women must expect if they enter into irregular relationships.
My father must marry. An heir was of the greatest importance if the family was to survive. Adelaide of Saxe-Meiningen and Victoria of Leiningen, widow of the ruler of that principality, were available. Which was for which did not seem to matter very much. I have often thought how different my life would have been if Adelaide had been my mother. But then I suppose I should have been different, so that is futile conjecture.
It was decided that my father, being more cultivated and princely in his manners than William, should have Victoria because she would have to be wooed, whereas Adelaide, no longer in the first flush of youth, and there having been a dearth of suitors for her hand, would be obliged to take what was given her. Victoria, on the other hand, as a widow once married for reasons of state, would have the right to choose her next husband.
So it was to be Victoria for Kent and Adelaide for Clarence.
And after Kent, Cumberland. From my earliest days I had thought of him as wicked Uncle Ernest. His appearance was enough to strike terror into the bravest child. This was largely because he had lost his left eye, and I was not sure what was more terrifying—the glimpse of that empty socket or the black mask he sometimes wore over it. But perhaps it was not so much Uncle Ernest’s appearance as his reputation which struck those chords of alarm in my youthful heart.
But his reputation fitted his appearance and this was largely due to the fact that about nine years before my birth he had been involved in a very unsavory case when his valet, a man called Sellis, was found in his bed with his throat cut. The Duke himself was wounded in the head, and this could have been fatal if the weapon which had struck him had not come into contact with his sword. There was no explanation of what happened but Sellis did have a beautiful wife and Ernest’s reputation with regard to women was rather shady. The general belief was that Uncle Ernest had quarrelled with his valet over the latter’s wife and had wounded himself in the affray. It was a most unpleasant case and never forgotten.
About three years before Charlotte’s death he had married a woman whose reputation was as sinister as his own. This was his cousin Frederica, daughter of the Duke of Mecklenburg—so her aunt was Queen Charlotte of England—who had been married twice, once to Frederick of Prussia and once to Frederick of Solms-Braunfels, both of whom had died mysteriously.
So there was Uncle Ernest with Aunt Frederica, and suspicion of murder had been attached to them both; and it was not entirely due to my mother’s hatred of them that I felt this repugnance.
Uncle Sussex was the sixth son and ninth child of King George and Queen Charlotte. He lived in Kensington Palace so I saw him now and then during my childhood. He was what is known as an eccentric, and his contribution to the family scandal was, as had come to be expected, through marriage. He was not promiscuous. As a matter of fact, that was not really a great sin of the uncles. Even George IV was faithful—more or less—to his women while they kept their positions. Uncle Sussex fell in love with Lady Augusta Murray when he was on the Continent and they were married there; and when they came to England they went through the ceremony once more. Alas, although it was a love match it was not approved of by the King and Parliament, so it was not recognized as a marriage. The happy pair did not mind that at first. But such considerations blight a marriage, I suppose. Sussex had always been a rebel. I remembered hearing that when he was very young he had been locked in his bedroom for wearing Admiral Keppel’s colors at the time of an election—and the King was against Admiral Keppel. It may have been that there was such a strict rule in the household that the children were certain to rebel. Uncle Sussex went on rebelling all his life.
When King George was put away and his eldest son became Regent, Sussex was welcomed back to Court. He had made a second marriage to Lady Cecelia Buggins, the widow of Sir George Buggins, and that was when they were at Kensington Palace. Being eccentric, Sussex never considered what people thought of his actions, and as he was an intellectual he was looked on with suspicion by most members of the family—except the Regent, of course; but Sussex was in a way a good man and gave his support to benevolent causes. It was only his marriages which had brought him notoriety.
The last uncle was Uncle Adolphus, the Duke of Cambridge, and it seemed that the younger uncles were less wild. Uncle Adolphus was the seventh son and the tenth in the family; he had gone to Germany and distinguished himself in the army. When Clarence had been floundering round, looking for a wife, he had promised to keep an eye open for a suitable one for him and his questing eye had fallen on Princess Augusta, the daughter of the Landgrave of Hesse-Cassel. He had written to Clarence extolling her beauty. The letters grew more and more adulatory until it was obvious that Adolphus himself was in love with the lady. This was actually the case, for he married her himself. Yes, Cambridge was really the most ordinary of the uncles.
So there they were, my rather disreputable uncles, the princes of the House of Hanover, which must be kept going at all cost. So any eligible uncle must do his duty and build up the succession. Ambition, which had lain dormant when it seemed that healthy bouncing Charlotte would live and produce a batch of healthy sons, as her grandmother had done, had been fanned into a bright blaze. There was not one of the eligible dukes who did not aspire to producing the heir to the throne.
Clarence, Kent, Cumberland and Cambridge were on their marks, as it were. There was speculation throughout the family… and the country. Who was going to reach the coveted goal?
Poor Aunt Adelaide produced and lost her child, so Clarence had set off to a bad start. Both Cumberland and Cambridge produced sons—both christened George, a good name for a king; but they were the younger sons, and if Clarence failed and the Duchess of Kent was fruitful, the palm would go to the Kents.