George III: well-intentioned but faced with insurmountable problems…

Thanks to everybody who took part in Guildhall Library’s historical discussion groups in late March. In our lively discussions, we explored various facets of George III’s personality, his effectiveness as king, his relationship with his family, his descent into severe mental illness, his reputation at home and abroad and finally his depiction in literature.

Here is a precis of some of points that were made:

We started off exploring George III’s keen sense of moral responsibility and the fact that he discouraged vice and aimed to set an example of duty and respectability as king and through his family life which went down well with the middle class.

Above: A proclamation for the encouragement of piety and virtue: and for the preventing and punishing of vice, prophaneness, and immorality. London 1760

We then went on to reflect that the revolutionary settlement left George III in an ambiguous position as king. For while he could not be Catholic or marry a catholic or use the suspending power nor dismiss judges or maintain an army during peacetime, it wasn’t that clear what he could do as king apart from choosing and dismissing ministers.  In fact, George was criticised for choosing Lord Bute as minister even though that was his prerogative and was neither unconstitutional nor unusual.

‘I have no wish but for the prosperity of my dominions… therefore must look on all who will not heartily assist me as bad men as well as ungrateful subjects…’ (Correspondence, ed. Fortescue, 6.151, no. 3973)

We thought about how George III took political opposition personally and how he often felt let down by his ministers and explored his difficulties in distinguishing between political and personal friendships and his frequently feelings of being betrayed. We reflected that this might have had to do with the fact that the idea of proprietary opposition, a key element parliamentary government was slow to catch on in the 18^th century as the validity of opposition was tainted by ideas of treason. 

We also spoke at length about how George found the routine of court life rather difficult and that his famously repeated interjections What? What? were attempts to fill awkward silences. We speculated that some of his social difficulties may have originated in his attempt to overcome his shyness with ambiguous assertions which others sometimes mistook for promises. And that his conservative attitude and need for a routine made him prefer ministers he knew and was comfortable with.

We considered that many of George’s challenges consisted in the fact that he was king in a period of decline for the crown which due in part to the great growth in public opinion fuelled by the expansion of newspapers and the rise in power of the first minister. 

‘I do not pretend to any superior abilities but will give place to no one in meaning to preserve the freedom, happiness and glory of my dominions and all their inhabitants, and to fulfill the duty to my God and my neighbour in the most extended sense’ (Brooke, George III, new edn, 1985, frontispiece).

We reflected that while George had a reputation for being slow to read in childhood, this perceived deficiency in intellect was not evident in later life and that he kept meticulous records and amassed a vast library on multiple disciplines ranging from farming to astronomy and science.

By the King: A proclamation, for a general fast, 1778. This proclamation alludes to ‘our rebellious subjects in our colonies and provinces in North America’.

We surmised that George was unjustly claimed to be a despot in America when it was parliament who enforced taxes in America. Therefore, the Americans’ quarrel was with parliament rather than the king though they successfully personalized their struggle by blaming the king.

We examined his devotion to his wife and extended family. Both groups highlighted that he was hard on his son, the future George IV, and we made links to how his fraught relationship with his son mirrored previous Georgian kings’ difficulties with their first-born sons.  We also talked about his relationship with his daughter Amelia and how her early death precipitated his final descent into madness.

We talked about how some historians put his madness down to the genetic blood disorder called porphyria with symptoms of aches and pains, as well as blue urine. We agreed that it was more likely that George III did suffer from mental illness as indicated in the findings of a research project based at St George’s, University of London. We were able to see for ourselves, due to the digitisation of George III’s papers, that during his episodes of illness, his sentences were much longer.  For example, a sentence containing 400 words and eight verbs was not unusual during episodes of his illness and he often repeated himself and used extravagant language and complex phrases. Features such as these are today seen in the writing and speech of patients experiencing the manic phase of psychiatric illnesses such as bipolar disorder. We also reflected that witnesses remarked upon the king’s incessant talkativeness and his habit of talking until he foamed at the mouth as well as described his convulsions.

A thanksgiving anthem for His Majesty’s (George III’s) happy recovery / Composed by Mr. Barthelemon, 1789?

We also thought about the portrayal of George III in literature and film. In William Thackeray’s Barry Lyndon 1844, the king was portrayed as cold and weak presiding over a hypocritical social elite. Robert Morley in the film Beau Brummell depicted him on the verge of insanity and then Alan Bennett’s play The Madness of King George which was later made into a film.

We concluded that, despite his illness, George III was a diligent king who won the sympathy and affection of his people. In our view it was more important for him to be a stable figurehead in prosperous and industrialised eighteenth century Britain than a ruler.

Sources

The correspondence of King George the Third from 1760 to December 1783, ed. J. Fortescue, 6 vols. (1927–8)

J. Brooke, King George III (1972)

Isabelle Chevallot Assistant Librarian

Isabelle Chevallot (@IChevallot) / Twitter

Queen Caroline – Part 12

That evening a humiliated Caroline fell ill and took laudanum. The cause of her illness was probably a bowel obstruction or cancer but perhaps evidently there were rumours that she had been poisoned. Her exact cause of death was never to be determined as she refused to allow a post mortem.

Whatever the cause of her final illness, it was clear that she was dying and she put her affairs in order, making peace with one of the prosecution witnesses, her former ladies maid Louise Demont.

In her will she left her estate to William Austin and her jewels to Pergami’s daughter.

As to her remains, her wish was that her body be taken back to Brunswick in a coffin inscribed Caroline, Injured Queen of England.

She died on 7 August 1821.

Hone did not feel bound to expressing condolences at the Queen’s passing. He laid Caroline’s death at the door of the authorities and rallied against their hypocrisy.

At the time of her death, George was in Ireland. In days following his couriers remarked that his mood was one of gaiety that they had not seen in years.

He ordered the minimum period of mourning – 3 weeks

Caroline was not afforded a state funeral.  The government’s main concern, as it had been for most of her life, was for Caroline to left Britain as quickly as possible

“An Irish wake, or the Whisky Club singing a requiem to the manes of the persecuted and – Queen”; George IV, William Curtis, Castlereagh, Bloomfield and others sit around a table with glasses of whisky in their hands. A satire on the death of the Queen and the dinner given in Dublin on 23 August.

Queen’s funeral procession left Brandenberg House on 14 August 1821

The progress from Brandenburg House to Hammersmith began before 6 am and was a dignified affair. Thousands of mourners, including many women, lined the route despite the torrential rain to pay their respects to a funeral procession headed by children from the Latimer’s Charity School strewing flowers.

The government proscribed route was to go skirt around the North of the City of London before heading through East London.  Crowds who had been assembling in Hyde Park were determined disrupt these plans and reroute the procession through the city of London.

The first flashpoint was at 9.30 am at Kensington Church. To prevent the cortege from heading north to Bayswater, via Church Street, the crowd rendered the thoroughfare impassable by wagons, trenches and even burst water pipe. The procession was held, perhaps not entirely by coincidence, outside the home of William Cobbett, a leading radical and Caroline’s erstwhile press secretary.

A standoff remained until 11 am when the chief magistrate of Bow Street, Sir Robert Baker, arrived with a troop of Life Guards.  Baker having surveyed the situation, gave orders for the procession to down Kingsbridge toward Hyde Park. The crowd had won round one.

Further standoffs took place at Hyde Park Gate and Hyde Park Corner where the mourners who following the cortege were swelled by the masses including members of trade associations who had been gathering in the Park since 6 am. On the orders of the Prime Minister, military reinforcements were called in and forced the procession northward.

As the top of Park Lane, crowds blocked the route and missiles were thrown in which a solider lost his eye. The solider was preventing from running his sword through a man by the chief magistrate. The procession was north of the city heading eastward.

It was at Cumberland Gate that the simmering violence erupted. The crowds had blocked the gate and the guardsmen forced it open and were clearing a path northwards. The crowds swarmed around the military’s horses, grabbing their reins and threw stones. The magistrate read the Riot Act and the military unleashed their swords and rifles.

The Peterloo massacre had taken place 2 years virtually to the day and memory of it must have been in everyone’s minds. When the crowds showered the soldiers with brickbats, stones and any missile to hand. The first shots were fired over the heads of the crowd but subsequently fired into the crowd. Bullets passed through some of the carriages in the cortege, their inhabitants were lucky to escape with the lives. Less fortunate was Richard Honey, a carpenter, who was shot dead. He had been a spectator. George Francis, a bricklayer, who had been a part of the crowd also died. Several others were severely injured.

The soldiers only stopped fire when an army officer, turned MP Sir Robert Wilson, intervened. In the ceasefire, negotiations took place with City officials and a route through the City was agreed. The procession passed through Temple Bar Gate and continued through without out further event through to the City and the East End towards Colchester.

The behaviour of the military shocked the public and the jurors of the subsequent inquests. They recorded verdicts of “wilful murder against a life guardsman unknown” for the death of George Francis, and “Manslaughter against the officers and soldiers of the 1st Guards” for the death of Richard Honey. Despite these shocking verdicts, no individual was ever specifically named as having been responsible or prosecuted for the deaths. On the contrary, Sir Robert Wilson was dismissed from the army for remonstrating with Life Guards.

At 4 am the coffin was placed briefly in St Peter’s Church Colchester. In an unseemly tussle ensued in which . Caroline’s Dr Lushington and other executors affixed to the coffin a plaque only to have it removed by the King’s representative, Mr. Taylor, with a Latin inscription approved by the King. The reported loud and threatening language was finally brought to an end when the mayor brought in the local militia to disperse the opposing sides. The coffin left the church three hours later

Caroline’s body left England from Harwich on 16 August 1821 on board on the Glasgow frigate.

The Newall Dunn Collection: A Volunteer’s Tale

Now that I am working part-time I thought that I would take on a volunteering role or two, but what would I do?

Whilst thinking about this travelling back from a meeting on the train I was reading the autumn 2019 issue of Cockney Ancestor and an item on the roundup area caught my eye. Volunteers were required to work on the Newall Dunn Collection at the Guildhall Library.

Who is Newall Dunn was the first thought that popped in my head, but when I looked him up on the internet once I got home, it was actually two people!

Laurence Dunn (1910-2006) was born at Llandaff and he had a lifelong interest in ships and the sea. He was also a very talented artist judging by the sketches I have seen in the folders that I have been working on. The Newall part of the name is Peter Newall (1945 – 2018) the writer and shipping historian.

Once I read a little more information about these two people and had a think about volunteering I fired off my email to the Guildhall as I thought the role would be interesting. I also thought it would be good to take part in an exercise that will enable people to find out what is contained in this vast collection and for me it’s something different to my normal working day.

Lawrence Dunn’s artist impression of the 20 knot motorship Centaur launched on the 20^th June 1963.  Photo courtesy of the Newall Dunn collection at the Guildhall Library, City of London

I have been at the Guildhall for a couple of weeks now and am one of the Monday ladies as I have termed us. My role is cataloguing onto an excel spreadsheet the large photos in this collection as well as noting shipping information in the extensive collection of newspaper cuttings, notes, letters, postcards, sketches etc. contained in the folders along with the photos. The collection has all sorts of photos of boats including cruise ships, cargo vessels, tankers, tugboats, war ships etc. and related ephemera.

It’s an interesting role as the collection contains items from the 1880s right through to the 21^st century.

There are all sorts of snippets of information that I myself have picked up these past couple of weeks like information about ships that sunk in the war and about luxury liners etc. An example is the liner the Olympia that was built in the Clyde and launched on the 20^th October 1953. This liner sailed from Southampton via Halifax to New York. The thing that stuck in my mind the most was that their first class fare on this liner was £98 – £146 with tourist accommodation costing £60 – £70.

Also looking at some of the photos whilst I was cataloguing the information I rather liked some of the interior photos like the funky zebra patterned chairs in the bar area of the Olympia and the gym photo shown below that has an actual horse shaped exercise machine, which I have never seen before. I am not too sure it would have improved your fitness though.                                                          

Photo courtesy of the Newall Dunn collection at the Guildhall Library, City of London

Out of curiosity, one week, I searched on the list and spotted that there was information about the Dunedin ship that my Grandfather John Tolladay (1903 – 1980) was on when he was in the Navy in the 1920’s. When I get a chance I must actually have a look at what they have in the collection on this.

Once the collection is all catalogued it will be of great interest to all sorts of people like: Historians, Family history buffs like myself, boat enthusiasts, interior designers, photographers, writers, maritime enthusiasts, and deltiologists to name but a few.

However, there are an awful lot of folders still to be catalogued in the collection, so more volunteers are required. If you have a couple of hours to spare each or every other week then why not pop along.

The library is open Monday to Thursday, so if you are available then please email guildhall.library@cityoflondon.gov.uk  and one of the library team will get back to you.

A note from Jeanie Smith, Assistant Librarian

The above blog was written some time ago by one of our volunteers.  The pandemic interrupted our volunteer projects and there has been a long delay in publishing it on our blog.  We are grateful for her patience and pleased that you can now read about her volunteering experience.  We are fortunate to have generous helpers working on our maritime collections and would very much like to add to their number.  If you would like to know more about how you could get involved, please contact us via the above e-mail address and I will get back to you.

Queen Caroline – Part 11

George’s long postponed coronation took place on the 19th of July 1821 at Westminster Abbey.

Caroline made her intentions clear that she expected to be crowned queen consort. The officials responsible were equally clear that she was not welcome. Even 3 days before the event, Caroline again informed the Duke of Norfolk who as in charge of the ceremony and that she expected to be conducted to her seat received his prompt reply “it is not his majesty’s pleasure to comply”

Coronation of George IV – Guildhall Library Collections

The ceremony was consciously planned to outshine the coronation of Napoleon as Emperor of France in 1804. The Prince spared no expense for his coronation which took place on the 19th July 1821. He spent approximately £243,00 on the ceremony which equates to about £21,751,000 in today’s money.

To accommodate over 4600 participants in Westminster Abbey, scaffolding was erected and accommodation for 3000 attendees in the adjoining Westminster Hall. To accommodate the attendees, the interior of Westminster Hall had been removed and pavilion constructed.

plan of Westminster Hall – Gentleman’s magazine]

Despite this clear statement Caroline was encouraged by Wood to, in effect, gate-crash the coronation giving her to believe that the crowds would not suffer her not being crowd and there was even the suggestion if not crowned by the state, she would be crowned by the City.

At 6 am, Caroline arrived in her carriage arrived at Westminster Hall to applause from a section of the crowd. However after some “anxious agitation” on the part of the soldiers and officials supervising the door, the door was closed.

The queen approached on the arm of Lord Hood, but was asked for her ticket by the commander of the guard. Replying that she was the queen and didn’t need a ticket, she was firmly turned away. When Caroline and Lord Hood tried to enter by a side door, it was slammed in their faces.

Their attempt to find another entrance was blocked by a line of armed soldiers, so they then made for the House of Lords, which was connected to the hall, but when she was denied entry there too, the queen returned to her carriage.

After about 20 minutes the party arrived at the abbey and approached the door which leads into Poet’s Corner.  Lord Hood addressed the doorkeeper, who was probably one of the professional boxers who had been hired for the event, announcing; “I present to you your queen, do you refuse her admission?” The doorkeeper replied that he could admit no one without a ticket. Lord Hood had his own ticket, but the doorkeeper was insistent that this would only allow one person entry and the queen refused to enter alone.

After further fruitless argument, the queen’s party retreated, the crowds shouting “Shame! Shame!” as she left in her carriage

After which the lavish coronation proceeded without another hitch. George was triumphant and emerged to the roar of the crowds, Caroline was in disgrace.

Queen Caroline – Part 10

Although the trial in Parliament had been paused. In the press, it was The Times took the lead in fuelling press outrage at the Queen’s treatment, running brazen attacks on a ‘debauched’ king. A popular petitioning campaign in her support eventually attracted over a million signatures

Brandenburg House and watermen in support of the Queen – GL collections

And Caroline’s supporters took to the streets. Large public meetings and processions in support of the Queen had begun to sweep the nation. The issue ‘took possession of every house or cottage in the kingdom’, recalled William Hazlitt. ‘Every man, woman and child took part in it …nothing was thought of but the fate of the Queen’s trial’.50,000 protesters carrying anti-government banners were parading on a weekly basis through central London. By October the numbers meeting at Piccadilly had reached 100,000. They came even by boat in their tens of thousands to Caroline’s secluded residence Bradenburgh House in Hammersmith with deputations. And in contrast to the events of Peterloo in 1819, the government stood by and did virtually nothing. Meetings organized in support of Caroline couldn’t easily be denounced as Seditious Meetings Act 1819.

The respectable middle classes and an unprecedented number of women attended meetings in support of Caroline. For a large number, if not a majority, they were drawn to the meetings for reformist or radical policies. Their support for Caroline was based in respect for the Constitution and loyalty to historic institutions. Their opposition to the Queen’s trial was because it an assault to the constitution and dangerous to the honour and dignity of the Crown. Meetings called for these purposes were always going to find a sympathetic magistrate would grant permission to hold the meeting.

The strategy didn’t go entirely to plan. There were a couple of damaging slip-ups, Lieutenant Flynn, a naval veteran of 16 years, fainted when he was caught out during cross-examination.Another lieutenant, Joseph Howham, one of Caroline’s foundlings from Montagu House perhaps gave one of the most unconvincing explanations as to why Caroline and Pergami shared a tent. Apparently it was because Caroline was afraid of pirated.Even Queen’s Counsel, Denman, who implied Caroline’s guilt when he suggested that Caroline should be allowed to go away and sin no more.

As ever, it was down to Brougham to make good any damage. He claimed that he had evidence of conspiracy which witnesses had be financially induced to give false witness and that he would call for an investigation – an investigation which would have led back to George

Account of the Queen’s defense – GL collections

Queen’s “triumph”

On 6 November 1820, the House of Lords finally delivered its verdict on Queen Caroline’s alleged crime of adultery. It came as no surprise that she was found guilty, but the margin of victory was slender: a mere nine votes.

Within days the government of Lord Liverpool dropped its case, fearful that it would be defeated in the House of Commons, and perhaps mindful that the king could be impeached for his illegal first marriage. The country erupted into a frenzy of celebrations at ‘the death of the Bill’. Across the country, supporters organised, processions, marches, bell-ringings, fireworks, gun salutes. There were also occasional outbreaks of disorder.

From the political showman at home – GL collections

On 11 November, central London was illuminated. One of the ways to illuminate a dwelling was to mount a transparency of an image on a window and position a light source behind it to create a luminous effect. Press reports picked out William Hone’s “splendid illumination’ on display at his shop on Ludgate Hill for four days. According to the emphatic text beneath the image, the transparency was displayed for the whole four days ‘in celebration of the VICTORY obtained by the THE PRESS for the LIBERTIES OF THE PEOPLE, which had been assailed in the Person of The Queen’. Perhaps foreshadowing Caroline’s demise in popularity Hone gives equal force to Liberty and the sacred printing press but reduced Caroline to a trophy-like roundel portrait in a laurel wreath. In Hone’s understanding of the affair, Caroline is as much the product as the producer of ‘the liberties of the people’.

Image from LMA

On 29 November Caroline attended a service of thanksgiving at St Paul’s cathedral. She was accompanied by 500 horsemen and a crowd of 50,000 people. It was intentionally provocative and a carefully orchestrated imitation of a coronation. Although the service was a stage-managed, anti-government spectacle. The psalm ordered for the service was no. 140—’Deliver me, O Lord, from the evil man”. They were were careful not to break the law and include Caroline’s name in the litany

With the government on the back foot and republican uprisings in Europe, the mood seemed ripe to turn Caroline’s victory into political action. The Examiner reported of a meeting of the alderman of the City of London at which it was agreed to ask the king to dismiss the government. Alderman Robert Waithman insisted that without reform, ‘a revolution or the establishment of a military government must ensue’. To give itself some breathing space, the government prorogued Parliament until 23 January. Caroline was in a position to make demands a royal residence, an annuity and the re-inclusion of her name in the liturgy. The Government were keen to get Caroline out of the country and made her an offer of an annuity of £50,000. The sticking point was the liturgy. In public statements she announced that she was resolute on the issue.

However in late February Caroline probably made her biggest error. She accepted the £50,000 with the government not making a concession on the liturgy. She had given in to the government. Brougham was furious, she had sold out and ‘she had destroyed her image as the victim of oppression, at one with the people’ Caroline was disillusioned. She reportedly wrote, ‘No one in fact, care [sic] for me . . . and this business had been more cared for as a political affair, than as a cause of a poor forlorn woman’.

Queen Caroline – Part 9

Queen Caroline – Part 9

Caroline’s Trial.

The Pains and Bills Bill of 1820

George was a legal used to get around his own adultery. The usual route to get a divorce was through the ecclesiastical courts. In legal terminology, George did not have clean hands and the courts were unlikely render a judgement against one spouse when the other had committed the same offence.

Lord Erskine, the authority of Parliamentary procedure, objected on the grounds that Caroline was not charged with adultery but a nebulous charge of ‘a most unbecoming and degrading Intimacy” with Pergami. A charge which made Caroline vulnerable to the evidence which would be little more than mudslinging

Divorce in Georgian England require an Act of Parliament. But an Act was usually the final stage of the divorce process.  Usually the wronged spouse would go to the ecclesiastical courts to obtain a legal separation before going to the civil courts to obtain a verdict of criminal conversation. Only then did some extremely wealthy go to Parliament to obtain an Act of Parliament – required if the husband wished to remarry. 

George could not follow this route because George had not in legal parlance “clean hands”. The ecclesiastical courts would not grant a favourable judgement to a party who had committed the same offence which George clearly had.  A further complication was that letter from April 1796 which George had stated they should not be ‘answerable to each other.

House of Lords

On 17 August 2020 Lord Liverpool presented the Bill in the House of the Lords the bill to deprive Caroline of her royal status and dissolve her marriage.

The ensuring parliamentary debate ran for 52 days from August to November to the exclusion of any other business. It was in effect a public trial of Queen Caroline in which the odds were against her. The Lords acted both judges and jurors, Caroline was not permitted prior notice of the evidence against, or to speak in her own defence.

For women, the proceeding brought to centre stage the double standard in England’s divorce law. Women could be divorced for adultery, to divorce a man other additional factors were required. A point which was raised by Caroline defence and conceded by the prosecution

‘The counsel for the Queen seemed to think that there was no difference between adultery committed by a man and by a woman. This ​ was a most extraordinary proposition, whether considered legally or with reference to its effects upon society”.

The prosecution’s case run from 19 August to 17 September and they called over 50 witnesses against Caroline, the main witnesses were  Italian servants.

Xenophobia and their low social status doubtless undermined the credibility of the testimony with the Lords and with the wider British public.

The prosecution’s first witness was Theodore Majocchi, appointed as a man servant by Pergami, and had worked in Caroline’s household since her time in Naples until 1818

His appearance at the trial clearly shocked Caroline to exclaim “Ah Theodore” before eventually according to the Times, she fled from from the room in “a burst of agony”. A reaction taken by some to be disgust at his  betrayal and to others it was a sign of guilt.

Brougham advise that Caroline stay away from the debate chamber after this. Caroline  much of the trial in an side room playing cards.

His answers to the attorney general’s questions in clear and concise detail. Over the course of the next few hours Majocchi delivered a testimony in which he confirmed that he had seen Caroline entering Bartolomeo Pergami’s bedroom; that the couple frequently held hands in public; and that Pergami would often ‘assist’ the Queen when she was bathing. And recalled in minute detail the sleeping arrangements of Caroline and Bergami over several years.  At Milan, for example, the two rooms “were separated only by a wall”, with a “secret staircase” leading to a landing onto which the doors of the two rooms opened “about seven or eight feet” apart.

However, Majocchi’s credibility as a witness collapsed when he was subjected to a rigorous cross-examination. It became quickly apparent that that Majocchi, who could provide confident and detailed responses about the alleged infidelities he had witnessed, he was completely unable to provide even basic details about Caroline’s household and daily routine.

During his cross examination Majocchi, when asked mundane matters of the Queen’s household which trusted member of the household would not, he had uttered the phrase “non mi ricordo” “I can’t remember” almost 200 times. It was clear that Majocchi had been coached to give to give evidence against the Queen

Non mi ricordo became a national joke and was picked up by pro-Caroline supporters. William Hone rushed out this pamphlet. It draw attention to the Crown’s obvious attempt to pervert the course of justice by briefing hostile witnesses to testify against the Queen.

In it, George Cruikshank replaces the King for Majocchi in the witness box and in the text George responds to each question about his own infidelities with Majocchi infamous Non mi ricordo.

And this pamphlet cut through to the public. It was reprinted at least 29 times indicating that people bought it in large numbers.

and that not only bought them but plenty evidence that it was read.  In this GL copy, is not usual where a contemporary reader puts the name to the titles, underlined key points and comments.

The influence of this pamphlet (and the Queen’s Matrimonial Ladder) clearly worried the authorities. They tried to silence them through bribery. Cruikshank accepted £100, and other  payments for illustrations for pro-George pamphlets but he ignored his promise not to provide satirical images of the King to Hone and other radical publishers. Hone was visited by a member of the royal household and offered £500 in exchange for a pledge not to produce any more satires about the King. Hone, ever the ideologue, dismissed the man by saying “Could you make it £5,000? Even if you did, I should refuse it.”

The prosecution’s other main witness was Louise Demont. Demont was an intelligent worman and in her capacity as one of Caroline’s maid would have been privy to the intimate details of Caroline’s household.  She testified she had seen Caroline leave Pergami’s bedroom wearing only a nightdress, corroborated evidence that Caroline and Pergami had shared a tent and a bath during the cruise.

Brougham demolished her credibility on cross-examination. She had been dismissed from Caroline’s household for lying [information provided to the defence by Demont’s sister] and been living in England under the assumed name of “Countess Colombier”. The interference that she had been paid handsomely by the authorities for her testimony would have been clear.

The prosecution’s case concluded on 7 September for the summer recess.

Queen Caroline – Part 8

Image from the Museum of London

King George III died on 29 January 1820 and George became George IV of  United Kingdom and Hannover. Caroline was no longer the Princess of Wales but Queen Consort. The dynamics of their relationship had changed yet again. George was simply not prepared to accept the notion of a Queen Caroline.

George’s first salvo was to deny Caroline public recognition of her royal status. Foreign dignitaries were informed that Caroline was not regarded as royal and was not to be extended the diplomatic niceties normally afforded to the monarch’s spouse. Foreign ambassadors and even the pope no longer received her

On the domestic front, George succeeded, against his government’s advice, in removing getting Caroline’s name was removed from the liturgy of the Church England. In other words, clergymen across the country were instructed not to mention the Queen in Sunday prayers for the Royal Family. It was a fairly easy win for George as the Church of England was the Establishment / Tory Party at prayer.

This was more than a petty snub. Whilst Caroline was a fit enough person to be commended to the Almighty in prayer, it was would be difficult to argue that she should not be afforded her status as George’s consort.

The issue also brought the Queen Caroline affair in the lives of every Anglican churchgoer and made churches one of the many arenas in which Caroline’s case was fought. Every church service churchgoers and clergymen were obliged to take a stand on this. And for those sympathetic to Caroline, it was a weekly reminder of the George’s treatment of his wife as well as the Church of England’s subservience to the monarch

Caroline was incensed by the removal of her name from the liturgy and it was under advice of Matthew Wood former Lord Mayor of London turned London MP she refused the bribe of £50k a year in exchange for promising never to return to Britain or its dominions and relinquishing her title Queen Consort.

Wood met Caroline in Calais and escorted her back to England on board the Prince Leopold (a mail ship) arriving at Dover on 5 June 1820 where she was given a tumultuous welcome plus a royal salute from the commandant of the garrison plus a guard of honour.  Huge crowds of ecstatic fans welcomed her return and she was mobbed all the way to London.

Caroline returned to London in triumph on 6 June 1820, in an open carriage through thronging crowds in the metropolis to stay initially with Wood at his home in London’s Mayfair. With Matthew Wood as an advisor, Caroline’s campaign became virtually indistinguishable from that of political reformers. Her advisors were drawn from London’s radical circles. Her responses to thousands of addresses or petitions she received were overtly political written by leading radicals such as William Cobbett.

The public were not the only ones to acknowledge Caroline. 5,000 sailors marched pass to pay their own respects to the Queen. On 15 June Guards in the Kings Mews mutinied showing that the government could not be sure that it would rely on the loyalty of the military.

On the very same day as Caroline arrived back in England George submitted to both Houses of Parliament evidence obtained by the Milan Commission in two identical green bags. He had initiated divorce proceedings against his wife. 

A House of Lords Committee of 15 peers opened the green bag of evidence and a week later reported back that there was sufficient evidence of Caroline’s improper relations with Pergami and recommended the introduction of a Bill of Pains and Penalties. 

And postponed his coronation scheduled for 1 August 1820.  The decks were cleared for the Queen’s trial.

Thomas Fairchild: Gardener and producer of the first deliberate hybrid.

“The City Gardener” (1722) by Thomas Fairchild

Guildhall Library holds a work by another member of the Gardeners’ Company and an important innovator in the history of gardening, Thomas Fairchild (1667 – 1729).  This is his “City Gardener” of 1722.  Fairchild was apprenticed to a clothworker when he was about 15 but by the age of 23, he had changed direction and was making a living as a nurseryman and florist in Hoxton.

Fairchild cultivated a famous vineyard in his London garden, but he is best known as the producer of the first deliberate hybrid. This was a cross between a sweet william and a carnation and was known as Fairchild’s Mule, so called because although an important breakthrough, the plant produced was sterile.   It was, however, the forerunner of thousands of modern varieties.

 Fairchild’s introduction to “The City Gardener” says “One may guess at the general Love my Fellow-Citizens have for Gardening in the midst of their Toil and Labour, by observing how much Use they make of every favourable Glance of the Sun to come abroad, and of their furnishing their Rooms or Chambers with Basons of Flowers or Bough-pots, rather than not have something of a Garden before them.”

 As you would expect, the book advised readers about the best plants to grow in London. He describes pear trees at the Barbican, grapes and figs in the City and suggests plants for London balconies and courtyards. He also discusses which plants will best grow in London’s atmosphere, polluted as it was by smoke from sea coal.

Fairchild was also a founder member of the Society of Gardeners (c1725) along with Philip Miller whose “Gardeners’ Dictionary” is also represented in the collection.  The group met each month at Newhall’s Coffee House in Chelsea and worked toward a catalogue of London trees and shrubs of which only one volume was published. This was in 1730, the year after Fairchild’s death although there were some interim publications along the way.

In 1891 the Worshipful Company of Gardeners passed a resolution to grant funds for the purchase of books to form the nucleus of a library of horticulture at Guildhall Library. The sum granted was five guineas and three guineas per year thereafter.  This resolution had the intention of providing a collection of current gardening manuals as a reference resource for City workers.

A letter dated 29^th October 1891 from Charles Welch, Company member and the Guildhall Librarian speaks of “the pleasure of laying before the Library Committee your letter presenting an interesting collection of works upon the art and mystery of gardening.”

So, the Company’s collection (now over 500 volumes) has been at Guildhall Library for horticultural enthusiasts to enjoy for almost 130 years. 

Jeanie Smith, Assistant Librarian.

John Tradescant the Elder and John Tradescant the Younger: Gardeners to King Charles I

John Tradescant the Elder (1577-1638)

John Tradescant the Younger (1608-1662)

These are the John Tradescants, a father and son, who were Gardeners to King Charles I and Queen Henrietta Maria and also adventurous plant collectors. 

In a time when the nobility were competing to have plants in their gardens that nobody else grew, or had even seen, the Tradescants not only sourced the plants but, more importantly, managed to keep the plants alive as they returned them to England.  They then succeeded in growing them here under very different conditions.

For example, in 1611, John Tradescant the Elder (1577 – 1638) went on a journey through the Low Countries and Flanders and then on to Paris, to source and purchase plants for his employer, Robert Cecil, First Earl of Salisbury who had a garden at Hatfield.  Tradescant was later to join a diplomatic visit to Tsar Michael Feodorovich at Archangel, Russia; the Ashmolean Museum holds his diary for that visit. With apparently little to do in the way of official duties during the visit, he was largely left to explore the coastal flora.  He returned with white hellebores and purple cranesbill for the garden of his employer.

In 1620 he set sail as a volunteer on a mission to quell the Barbary pirates who were attacking English ships and in spite of the dangers managed to bring back the Algiers apricot.  It seems he would do anything to source a new plant!

By 1623 he was working for George Villiers, First Duke of Buckingham and was visiting the Low Countries again to buy trees and plants.  He accompanied his employer to France in 1625 to escort Charles I’s bride, Henrietta Maria, back to England, but again, he took the opportunity to source and purchase plants for the Duke’s garden at New Hall in Essex. 

After the Duke’s assassination in 1628, Tradescant moved with his family to a house just south of today’s Lambeth Bridge, the place which became known as ‘Tradescant’s Ark’.  He remained there for the rest of his life.

He was the first importer of many varieties of fruit trees and garden flowers from France and The Netherlands, including fritillaries, the corn poppy, mulberries and the larch tree. His name is most closely associated with the Virginia spider-wort known as Tradescant’s spiderwort and later named Tradescantia Virginiana by Linnaeus.

When his father died (in 1638), John Tradescant the Younger, succeeded his father as head gardener to the King and Queen at Oatlands Palace, Surrey.  A year earlier, he had made the first of three visits to Virginia, possibly to gather new plants for the King’s garden.   He introduced many plants such as the tulip tree, a wild red columbine, bergamot, swamp cypress, and the Virginia creeper.

The Tradescants created a museum of curiosities at their home in Lambeth which was known as ‘The Ark’.  The contents of the museum were listed by John the Younger in his “Musaeum Tradescantianum.”  This book, held at Guildhall Library, was one of the first museum catalogues to appear in England.  The collection included a variety of man-made and natural objects from across the world including plants, shells, coins, animal bones, corals, ‘strange fishes,’ ‘outlandish fruits,’ precious stones and miniature carvings on fruit stones.

John the younger was a Freeman of the Gardeners’ Company and his name can be seen in their archive (also housed at Guildhall Library).  The two portraits (above) are by Wenceslas Hollar and appear in “Musaeum Tradescantianum” which was published in 1656.

“Musaeum Tradescantianum” (1656) by John Tradescant

The Tradescants’ collection was left to Elias Ashmole, but following John the Younger’s death in 1662, it took several years for some legal issues to be resolved before the collection was housed in a purpose-built museum which became the Ashmolean at Oxford.

Jeanie Smith

Assistant Librarian, Guildhall Library

Queen Caroline – Part 7

Protest rally – from Guildhall Library’s collections

The government was unpopular because of its indifference to the mass unemployment and starvation in Britain following the end of the Napoleonic Wars. MPs were primarily landowners unaccountable to the mass of British people and enacted laws for their benefit. The infamous Corn Laws were a case in point. Reformers calling for universal male suffrage and  new constituencies in the new populous industrial centres such as Manchester to make Parliament more accountable.

Image from London Metropolitan Archives

The  British government was merely indifferent to the needs of the populace but actively hostile to reformers were calling for universal male suffrage and parliamentary reform. Probably the most notorious example is the Peterloo Massacre of August 1819 where eighteen people died when cavalry charged into a crowd of around 60,000 people who had gathered to petition for parliamentary representation.

The government fought against reformers not only with force but with the law. In 1817 it suspended Habeas Corpus allowing imprisonment of opponents without trial. Following Peterloo, the government doubled down on repressive legislation limiting further the means through which people could protest. The Seditious Meetings Act made it illegal to hold a meeting of more than 50 people without the approval of a magistrate. Through the Seditious Libels Act 1819 reformist or radical authors, printers and publishers faced 14 years transportation.

Spa Fields Defendants from Guildhall Library Collections

And the other weapon in the government arsenal to oppose its opponents was its network of spies and paid-informers. [not unlike the methods used against Caroline]    Notorious show trials, based on the evidence of agent provocateurs, were relatively common during Caroline’s exile. The Spa Fields Riots defendants were fortunate to be acquitted in 1816 when the role of the government agent was discovered. In 1817, three men involved in uprising in Pentrich, Derbyshire were not so fortunate. They were hanged, drawn and quartered.

And it is in this context it is understandable that the government were willing to pay Caroline to stay abroad despite the weight of evidence against her.

In 1814 Caroline had demonstrated her ability to harness public opinion behind her.  In the intervening years, the opposition to George and the government had grown. The last thing the government wanted was the return of Caroline to become a rallying point for the widespread dissent.