she died. So although Frederick was the next in line, he was old and could not be expected to produce an heir…”
I loved this saga of the uncles. But because they were a scandal and a disgrace to the family, as my mother said, I found it hard to get information about them and had to prise what I did learn from Lehzen over a long period.
Next to Uncle Frederick came Uncle William. He was the Duke of Clarence, who was in time to become King William IV. He had always been a rather ridiculous figure. He was different from all the other uncles, for whatever else they were, they were highly cultivated, courtly, with exquisite manners. Not so Uncle William. He had been brought up differently and sent to sea at an early age; he prided himself on being a bluff sailor. He was garrulous and fond of making public speeches which were often diatribes against this and that, and sometimes quite incoherent. In his youth he must have been quite a romantic figure because he entered into a relationship with Dorothy Jordan, an actress, and by her had ten children. He had set up house in Bushey where he and Dorothy Jordan lived harmoniously albeit without benefit of clergy just as my father had with Madame St. Laurent. The uncles seemed to have a flair for that sort of relationship. But with the death of Charlotte he had to find a wife quickly, just as my father had. In the end he had treated Dorothy Jordan badly. She went to France and died there unhappily. Uncle William had made a fool of himself on several occasions by asking the hand in marriage of certain ladies—none of them royal—and being publicly refused, except by one, a certain Miss Wykeham, who did accept him; but when Charlotte died and the need for an heir was imperative, he had to abandon her and be married to Adelaide, the daughter of the Duke of Saxe-Meiningen. I grew to love her dearly.
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