Caroline was not without friends and now that she had lost Perceval she found two ardent supporters in Baron Brougham and Vaux, a distinguished lawyer and politician, and Samuel Whitbread, the Member for Bedford who had made a fortune out of the brewery business.
Whitbread was an earnest idealist who saw Caroline as a much persecuted heroine; Brougham was something of an opportunist who saw in Caroline’s case a cause which could bring him fame.
They called on her— separately— and both told her of their admiration for her fortitude in her misfortune and how they would work for her.
With her usual exuberance she welcomed them.
It was fortunate for her that she had these supporters for those of the Prince were demanding that the Douglases repeat their accusations against her.
Whitbread, aware of this, forestalled the Princess’s enemies by asking in the House of Commons that Lady Douglas be prosecuted for perjury.
The affairs of the Regent and his wife were being discussed everywhere.
There was no doubt whose side the people were on.
On one occasion riding in Constitution Hill Caroline’s carriage passed that of Charlotte and the young Princess called to her driver to turn and follow her mother.
When the carriages were side by side the two embraced affectionately and through the windows engaged in an animated conversation.
A crowd collected.
‘Long live the Princess Charlotte!’ they cried. ‘Long live the Princess of Wales!’
The two smiled affectionately at the people and waved their greetings.
There were loud cheers and grumbles in the crowd too. Why should fat George come between mother and daughter? Why should they stand by and allow such wickedness?’
Mother and daughter bade each other a fond farewell and their carriages drove away in opposite directions were seen to turn and wave and look after each other longingly. There were tears in many eyes as well as indignation.
‘It shouldn’t be allowed,’ was the comment. ‘Someone should put a stop to it.’
No one was more aware of public opinion than Brougham; he came down vehemently on Caroline’s side. Meanwhile the Douglases were alarmed considering the penalties of perjury and Sir John wrote to the House of Commons on behalf of his wife explaining that the depositions they had made on oath before the Lords Commissioners were not made on such judicial proceedings which could legally result in a prosecution for perjury. But as they felt the fullest confidence in their statements they were ready to take the oath and swear before a tribunal, which if they were proved false could mean a prosecution for perjury.
They were eager to swear before such a tribunal, but they did not wish to take these oaths before one which was lacking in these legal liabilities.
Brougham laughed aloud when he heard this.
‘Ah,’ he cried to Caroline. ‘You understand. They’re bluffing. They know what this will mean. They will only swear at a public trial in which the Prince Regent would have to appear.’
‘They are taking a risk,’ suggested Caroline.
‘Well, they have to take a risk— but a small one. They’re banking on the impossibility of having a public trial in which the Regent would show up in none too good a light. Moreover, all those spies of theirs might have been ready to swear before the Lords Commissioners but would they be prepared to do so in a court of law? Consider the penalties of perjury, dear Madam. No, this is good, there will be no trial. And they don’t deceive people in the know.’
He was right. News came that the Duke of Sussex had dismissed Sir John Douglas from his service. This was taken as a vindication of Caroline and there were bonfires in the streets and the effigies which were burned were those of Sir John and Lady Douglas.
The Duchess of Brunswick died at the time. Caroline was saddened, but her mother’s behaviour had not been exactly endearing. The Prince, on attaining the Regency, had offered her an apartment in Carlton House. Caroline guessed that this was to discountenance her; and the old lady had been eager to accept and would have done so had she not been prevailed upon by her son to refrain from doing so. So she had declined and continued to hold court in her dark and gloomy old house in New Street, Spring Gardens; but she did seem to take a delight in the humiliations heaped on her daughter, while she declared her dear nephew, the Prince Regent, was always charming to her.
Caroline, was understandably, concerned with the fate of her mother’s faithful lady-in-waiting, Lady Finiater, who on the death of the Duchess was left in very dire straits, and endeavoured to get her pension of five hundred a year.
Caroline was beginning to see that the Regent was too powerful for her. There would always be trouble, and as he was almost the King, she had little chance against him.
Charlotte was to be betrothed to the Prince of Orange, a match which the young Princess viewed with some distaste; and Caroline longed to be with her, to condole with her, to stop her making an unhappy marriage as she had.
Bat Charlotte had spirit and her father was a little afraid of her on account of that great affection she inspired wherever she went and the greater it became, the more he realized that quarrel between them could be disastrous to his own standing with the people.
He groaned and cursed his wife and daughter. Never was it man such a lover of the female sex, and never was a father and husband so plagued by them.
He blamed everything on to Caroline; he hated her; he could not bear to think of her. The manner in which she behaved disgusted him. She was vulgar; she had no sense of decorum; she was everything that he was not; and to think that she was the mother of the heiress to the throne enraged him.
When the Czar of Russia visited England he was determined to keep Caroline out of his sight for he could not endure the thought of the Czar’s seeing her and knowing that she was his wife.
When Caroline heard that there was to be a State visit to the Opera, she mischievously decided to discountenance the Regent.
‘They may ban me from the drawing rooms but they can’t prevent my going to the Opera,’ she announced triumphantly.
And while she was dressed for the occasion she grumbled to Lady Charlotte and her women about the manner in which she had been excluded from the Queen’s drawing room.
‘The Regent has said he does not wish to see you. And how can I ban the Regent from my drawing room?’ she mimicked the Queen. ‘ I fear in the circumstances I cannot invite you to attend. The old Begum! We have more fun in Montague House in five minutes than they do in a year in the old drawing rooms.’
She laughed gleefully, and gazed in delight at her reflection while Lady Charlotte shuddered inwardly. Could she really be contemplating visiting the Opera like that? She wore black velvet and on her head had set an elaborately curled wig so black that her face heavily daubed with white lead and rouge made a startling contrast.
‘Come on,’ she cried. ‘Smack it on. I want to be noticed tonight.’
Her large bosom was generously displayed and she called Willikin to comment on her appearance. He threw his arms about her neck and she gave him several smacking kisses and was clearly contemplating taking him with her.
Oh God, prayed Lady Charlotte, don’t let her be as foolish as that. Fortunately she changed her mind in time.
At the Opera the National Anthem was being played when she arrived. The Prince Regent was standing to attention in his box— on one side of him the Czar of Russia, on the other the King of Prussia.
The anthem over, the audience seated itself and then someone in the stalls noticed her.