By George! Where Queen Caroline Ended Up

George IV might not have been able to divorce his queen, but he could still cut her out of his life. Including his coronation.

Queen Caroline had spent several weeks getting ready to attend the coronation. She had even sent a letter to her husband, asking him what she should wear. Rather cheeky, that. It was returned, unopened, “in uniformity with a resolution adopted more than twenty years ago, and since invariably adhered to by the King.” Lord Liverpool assured His Majesty that it was a tempest in a tea pot. Nothing would come of it. She would no doubt make threats, then ask for money in exchange for dropping her plans.

His Majesty wasn’t so complacent. He was worried to distraction that she was planning something, anything, to ruin his Big Day. Caroline certainly expected to be allowed into the abbey, at the very least, to sit with the royal family. After all, wasn’t she the Queen?She was, indeed, the Queen. But the King had ordered her to be excluded from all ceremonies at all costs and there was no legal precedent that could change that.

Regardless, Caroline set out for the abbey accompanied by Lady Hood and Lady Anne Hamilton. Lord Hood and Keppel Craven followed in a separate carriage. Along the route there was occasional cheering and a call of “God Save the Queen.” But by and large the crowd remained silent, or even booed, as the group went past. As her carriage drew up to Westminster Hall, the doors were “closed amidst much confusion.” Leaning on Lord Hood’s arm, she headed for two other doors. These were “shut in her face and guarded by hefty prize-fighters.”

Undaunted, she approached the door-keeper who asked for her ticket. Lord Hood protested that the Queen of England shouldn’t need a ticket to attend her own coronation. His Lordship was disabused of that notion. No ticket, no entry. When His Lordship continued to protest, he was informed that the orders came from the King himself. If His Lordship wanted to talk to the King, that was okay with him, but he’d have to get a ticket first, because it wasn’t likely the King would take time out of his busy day to come out and speak to them. Especially if Certain Persons were cooling their heels on the front porch.

Her Majesty knew the game was up. “How can I get to my carriage?” She asked; confused and dejected. As her carriage pulled away, some people called after her, “Back to Como.” “Back to Bergami.” But nothing else. No mob ready to break down the doors. No crowd of thousands loudly demanding she be included in the ceremonies.

Being no more politically astute than her husband, she had squandered many opportunities to play the role of Caring Monarch. Leaving the country was her first, and arguably, biggest mistake. Her behavior while abroad was no better than her husband’s frolicking back home. The biggest thing in her favor was that her husband couldn’t stand the sight of her. Anyone the Prince Regent hated that much… It apparently never occurred to her that by simply being what her husband was not, compassionate about the Lesser Sorts, honest, humble, un-ostentatious, she might very well have found most of London, indeed, most of England, demanding she be crowned Queen.

Alas, she was much too similar to her husband. If she was less profligate, it was only because she had fewer resources to be so. The Prince’s advantage over her was simply one of birth. His father and great-grandfather had been kings, (his grandfather died while great-granddad was still on the throne.)so he would be king! Simple as that!

Caroline only married into the family. And now that she was firmly, if un-officially, outside the family, she essentially no longer had a reason for being. And no one was more acutely aware of that than herself. “This business has been more cared for as a political business than the cause of a poor, forlorn woman.” She said. It had always been a “political business;” which was something she could never quite grasp firmly enough to put to her own use.

And now, with all hope of becoming Queen of England gone, Caroline fell ill. Her health had been somewhat problematic for some time. Although she was not the hypochondriac her husband was, her atrocious diet and alcohol intake were having the same effect on her as as they were having on the King. And, like His Majesty, Her Majesty was ingesting ever larger quantities of “laudanum and nervous medicines.” Unfortunately Caroline’s constitution was not as durable as her husbands.

In late July, 1821, after attending a performance at a Drury Lane theater, Queen Caroline collapsed at home. She began to vomit, her pulse became fast and irregular. Her doctors announced that she had “an obstruction of the bowels attended with inflammation.” Their treatment? Profuse bleeding, large quantities of opium, warm baths and caster oil until it was coming out of her ears. She did not improve.

After a week of being bedridden and in constant pain, she called for Lord Brougham and Stephan Lushington. Making sure her will and other papers were in order, she prepared for the end. “I am going to die, Mr Brougham; but it does not signify.” She told him. Lord Brougham disagreed. Her doctors thought she had a good chance at recovery and had told him so. “Ah, I know better than them. I tell you I shall die, but I don’t mind it.” And, apparently, she didn’t.

On August 8, 1821, after a sleepless night, her pain became unbearable. She became delirious, went into convulsions and finally became comatose. Her breathing “stopped just before half past ten.” Upon being informed of her death by Mr Lushington, Lord Liverpool told him that the government would pick up the tab for the funeral. Wasn’t that nice of them?

And what of His Majesty? How did he respond? “The King, who, when Napoleon died, was said to have responded to the intelligence that his “greatest enemy” was dead with the words “Is she? By God!” was not expected to display any prolonged sense of grief at his bereavement or feel less than a profound sense of relief after the first shock had passed.”

On his fifty-ninth birthday, August 12, the King was on his way to Ireland aboard a new-fangled steam boat. It was right before casting off that he received word that Caroline was really and truly dead and not just sick. He was reported to “be in great spirits.” According to the Countess of Glengall, who was on hand when the ship docked, His Majesty was “dead drunk, unable to walk unaided.” His trip to Dublin “was occupied in eating goose pies and drinking whiskey in which His Majesty took most abundantly, singing many joyous songs.”

Poor fellow.

— Mr. Al