By George! The Lords Are… Determined?

At this point in Mr. Al’s narrative George IV has become king, but has not yet become coronated. When he began his divorce proceedings it was his desperate hope to be rid of Princess Caroline as quickly and conveniently as possible.

On August 17, 1820, the House of Lords began it’s inquiry. The Queen moved to a house in St. James Square, to be close at hand. She spent so much time at a front window, waving and bowing to the immense, cheering crowds gathered in front, that it’s a wonder she found time to eat. But she did. “She had grown very fat during her years of exile, and she wore more rouge than ever upon her naturally ruddy cheeks. Her eyebrows were painted black, and long black curls hung down on either side of her face from her wig.”

Each day while the inquiry was in session, Her Majesty would ride to the House of Lords, out of St. James Square, “down King Street, into Pall Mall and past Carlton House, where, to the delight of the mob, the guard would present arms.” The first order of business, to ascertain whether the Queen could be charged with high treason. The Judges reply, (The House of Lords was England’s Supreme Court) “There was no statute law or law of the land touching on the Queen’s case.” With that firmly settled, the government could get on with the business of attacking the Queen’s character.

Lord Henry Brougham, the head of the Queen’s legal team, used the opening remarks to not only defend the Queen, but to touch, ever so obliquely, on the King’s past behavior. Some persons thought his speech, while brilliantly presented, to be in poor taste. All agreed, it was a strong opening salvo. As the inquiry proceeded, the crowds outside Parliament grew. Violence against Ministers grew apace. Lord Castlereagh boarded up his house, windows and doors, and took to sleeping on a small bed in his office. One day a group of road menders stopped the Duke of Wellington on his horse and demanded he repeat “God Save the Queen.” To which he replied, “Well, gentlemen, since you will have it so, “God Save the Queen”-and may all your wives be like her.”

More and more people of the Better Sorts came out in favor of the Queen. One lady in particular became an almost savage supporter. Lady Jersey. According to one witness, she was “Absolutely in a raging fever, quite frenzied, so violent that she was at daggers drawn even with the Holland family and inveighed bitterly against the moderate tone adopted by Lord Grey.”

While the government’s case rested almost entirely on the word of tradesmen and servants, none of them English, the sheer number of people reporting the same general behavior on the part of the Queen, under widely varied circumstances and over a long period of time, began to have some effect. For weeks, from August through September, the government produced witnesses that swore to the Queens relationship with Pergami, and, while they were at it, let slip little details of the Queens personal life that did not reflect well on her.

Now, on October 3, Henry Broughham opened his defense. Thomas Creevey thought his opening statement “A most magnificent address, nothing but perfection.” Said Charles Grenville; “The most magnificent display of argument and oratory that had been heard in years. The Monde at Brooks’s talked of nothing but Brougham and his fame, and the comers-in from White’s said the same feeling was equally strong there.”

Unfortunately, the witnesses for the defense were mixed. Some, under cross examination, caused more problems than they solved. But if the Queens men were not having it all their own way, neither was the government. The matter sea-sawed back and forth until November 6, when, after closing arguments, the Bill of Pains and Penalties, from which the charge of high treason had been striped, but not the Kings demand for a divorce, was submitted for a vote.

One hundred twenty three voted for the bill, Ninety five, against. According to Lord Grey, “Such a majority on a matter of state was tantamount to a defeat.” Members of the Cabinet debated getting rid of the divorce clause, The King would raise a stink, but he got us into this mess in the first place. The Church would like to see it go, What to do? The Whigs, not surprisingly, wanted the clause to remain. They hoped, with reason, that the clause would sink the entire bill. Many Tories wanted the clause to remain because they believed, with reason, that too many people had tampered with it already. The clause remained. On November 10 came the vote for the third reading. If the bill passed the third reading with a comfortable majority for the government, the bill would be sent to the House of Commons. The vote was one hundred eight, for, ninety-nine, against. Said Lady Harrowby; “The majority was so trifling that it created more embarrassment than if the bill had been thrown out all together.”

The government knew the bill had no chance at all in the Commons, in fact, Brougham had got a hold of a copy of the Kings will, where he clearly refers to the Roman Catholic Mrs Fitzhurbert as his wife. He fully intended to present that to the Commons, along with much else from the King’s disreputable past, should the government persist in it’s pursuit of this bill. The government threw in the towel. This didn’t mean that the Queen had been found innocent, the House of Lords, by a razor thin majority, found her guilty, but by abandoning the bill they prevented her acquittal in the House of Commons. Half a loaf…And his Majesty? He was ready to throw in the towel as well.

— Mr. Al