With George I safely out of the picture in Hanover, Caroline and George Augustus embarked on a PR drive designed to win the hearts of their already adoring subjects. They knew how to play the popular card perfectly and declared at every opportunity in their heavy German accents that they considered themselves to be English through-and-through. George Augustus “thought [the English] the best, the handsomest, the best shaped, the best natured, and lovingest People in the World, and [if] Anybody would make their Court to him, it must be by telling him he was like an Englishman.”112 When measured against the sullen king, who maintained his Hanoverian habits and German language, George Augustus and Caroline were a breath of fresh air. Henrietta, meanwhile, continued to plough her own quiet furrow amongst the ladies of the court. Her decision to avoid politics had paid off and she could count friends across the factions that jostled for power around her, whilst her enemies appear to have been few. In fact, so celebrated was Henrietta’s neutrality in court quarrels that she earned herself the nickname the Swiss, and her apartments became known as the Swiss cantons. It was a quality that would stand her in good stead for further advancement.
The woman whose life had once revolved around her son and a succession of filthy rooms now had a social circle to rival the very best. She welcomed the most celebrated characters of the Georgian era to her gatherings, including Dr John Arbuthnot, Alexander Pope and John Gay, who all became her firm friends. Where the most celebrated characters of the era went, George Augustus was sure to follow. Whether he was there for the company or to woo the lady remains to be seen.
George Augustus’ fondness for Henrietta certainly hadn’t gone unnoticed. Courtier Margaret Bradshaw even teased her about it in a letter which reveals Henrietta’s reputation as a favourite of the Prince of Wales, as well as paying homage to her late father.
“We have, said [Thomas Wharton, Marquis of Wharton], one lady, whom I can recommend to your friendship; her father was a son of the muses, and his daughter inherits her sire’s wit; she is a great favourite of Pluto, and consequently of our Queen: all the Court are fond of her, she always being ready to do a good turn, and seldom speaks ill of any one.”113
By the time George Louis arrived back from his visit to Hanover, tensions between him and George Augustus were greater than ever. When Caroline of Ansbach gave birth to a son in late 1717, what should have been a happy event instead lit the final touch paper. Things started badly when the king demanded that the infant be given the name George, a stipulation that the Prince and Princess of Wales agreed to despite their reservations. When George Louis then tried to impose Thomas Pelham-Holles, 1st Duke of Newcastle, as a godfather, however, the new parents put their foot down.
George Augustus and the duke had never got on and though the Prince of Wales was determined not to acquiesce to his father’s demands, eventually the king won the day: the Duke of Newcastle would be George William’s godfather. Emotions were still running high at the christening itself and after an altercation, Newcastle claimed that George Augustus had threatened his life. The king was apoplectic and demanded to know what exactly had occurred. George Augustus told him that he had told Newcastle, “you are a rascal, but I shall find you,” meaning that he would show everyone that the duke was a thoroughly bad sort. Newcastle instead claimed that George Augustus had said, “I shall fight you!” and he was mortally offended. Even when the prince blamed the misunderstanding on his German accent the king wouldn’t be swayed. He and the Prince of Wales had reached breaking point.
The idyllic summer Henrietta had spent hosting her gatherings was little more than a memory when she made her way to Caroline’s rooms and was met by a shocking sight.
“What was my astonishment […] when going to the Princess’s apartment the next morning, the yeomen in the guard-chamber pointed their halberds at my breast, and told me I must not pass! I urged that it was my duty to attend the Princess. They said, ‘No matter I must not pass that way.”114
Make no mistake, to find the way to the Princess of Wales barred by armed guards was no ordinary occurrence, but proof of the catastrophic rupture that had finally split the two halves of the family. It had begun decades earlier when George Louis had divorced his wife, George Augustus’ mother, and allowed her to be imprisoned at Ahlden. She was not allowed to say goodbye to her children, nor to ever see them again, and they were forbidden from mentioning her in their father’s earshot. Relations between George Louis and his son had never been particularly rosy from that day onwards, and things had become even more strained when the king insisted that Frederick must remain in Hanover when the rest of the royal party came to England. George Augustus was unable to visit Fred and didn’t see him again for 14 years. When he did, they had become strangers.
George I was a regular visitor to Hanover throughout his reign and when he couldn’t be there in person, he wrote long letters to his grandson. Through these letters and visits, George Augustus became convinced that his father was doing all he could to turn Fred against him. It was certainly no coincidence that when Melusine tried to influence the marriage plans of Fred and his sister, it was George I who held sway, not George Augustus. It’s no coincidence either that when George Augustus succeeded to the throne, he wiped the marriage plans that his father had nurtured off the slate and hung a picture of his late mother in pride of place. George Louis lavished time and attention on Fred whilst simultaneously denying George Augustus and Caroline the right to see him. In doing so, he created a feud between father and son just like the one that had engulfed his own relationship with George Augustus. It was to become a destructive pattern for the men of the House of Hanover.
The outburst between George Augustus and the Duke of Newcastle at George William’s christening was the final straw. The king banished the Prince of Wales from St James’s Palace and Princess Caroline chose to leave with her husband. When she did, George Louis declared that the couple’s children, including the newborn George William, would remain with him. Though Melusine did all she could to soothe the youngsters after the separation, it took a tragedy to soften George Louis’ heart. When the infant George William fell mortally ill, George Louis grudgingly allowed the Prince and Princess of Wales to visit him at St James’s Palace. It was a scant comfort, but even when three-month-old George William died, the king remained immovable. The royal households occupied different worlds.
George Augustus and Caroline established an alternative court at their new home of Leicester House, where they welcomed George I’s political opponents in their droves. Robert Walpole was soon a regular visitor, for he had shrewdly identified that the supposedly unpolitical Caroline was anything but. Instead she was her husband’s most trusted advisor and would prove to be as politically astute as she was influential. With George I already in his late fifties, Walpole was making sure that he held sway with the king’s eventual successor too. He and Caroline would eventually form a strong bond that stood Walpole in excellent stead for the reign of George II.
The split between father and son inevitably had an impact on those who served them. The Howard family was still living at St James’s Palace but with the removal of the Prince and Princess of Wales, that was set to change. Henrietta was expected to go to Leicester House with her mistress, Caroline, whilst Charles would remain at St James’s to serve the king. Though Henrietta was glad for an excuse to escape her husband, she found the decision to do so surprisingly difficult. Being in the service of the monarch hadn’t softened Charles and he was as cruel and disreputable as ever, but still Henrietta was morally conflicted. She wrestled with the vows she had taken when they married, unsure whether to finally leave her wayward husband. In the early years of her marriage she had tried to remain under the same roof as Charles wherever possible, enduring his abuse and derision and serving as little more than his slave, but even now the decision to flee wasn’t one that she took easily. Nor was it a decision that would go unremarked by polite society.
As Henrietta tussled with the choice to either leave her husband and follow the princess, or to remain at the side of the man who had brutalised her, she was keenly aware of the implication it had for her future. She left behind a remarkable piece of writing in which she set down her thoughts on the matter and in which we can clearly see a woman in turmoil, who had been the victim of her husband’s cruelty for far too long. It offers a rare and unfettered glimpse into Henrietta’s head.
“What is ye Marriage vow? A Solemn Contract where two engage. The Woman promises Duty, affection, and Obedience to the mans commands; to Guard that Share of his Honour reposed in her Keeping. What is his part? To guide, to protect, to Support and Govern with mildness. Have I perform’d my part? In word and deed. How has [Charles Howard] answer’d his? In no one article. How Guided? To Evil; how protected or Suported me? Left distitute wanting ye common necessarys of life; not always from Misfortunes, but from Choice. What (from justice as well as from humanity nay even from his vows) ought to have been mine, employ’d to gratifie his passions. How Govern’d? With Tyranny; with Cruelty, my life in Danger. Then am not I free? All other Engagements cease to bind, if either contracting party’s fail in their parts. Self presevation [sic] is the first law of Nature, are married Women then, the only part of human Nature that must not follow it? Are they expected to act upon higher Principles of Relegion and honour than any other part of the Creation? If they have Superiour Sense, Superiour fortitude and reason, then why a Salve to what’s inferior to them? How vain, how trifling is my reasoning? Look round and see how few of my Sex are intyttled to govern, look on my self; consider myself and I shall soon perceive it is not that I am Superiour but as I reflect on one who is indeed inferiour to all Mankind. How dangerous is Power in Women’s hands? Do I know so many Miserable Wives from Mans Tyranick Power as I know unhappy and rediculous Husband only made so by too much indulgence; nay do I know one Single instance where great tenderness if attended with Submision to a Womans will, is not unfortunate to the Husband either in his honour, his Quiet, or his fortune? Then own the power justly placed however I am the suffered. But still I must believe I am free.
What do I propose from this freedom? To hate the man I did before dispise. Wou’d I proclaim my missery, my shame? Wou’d I revenge my wrongs? The first gives pity or Contempt but no redress. The Second not in my power without involving my Self, his honour now is mine; had I none before I married? can I devide them? how loose his, and keep my own?”115
Whilst it’s clear that Henrietta loathed her husband, dispised him, in her own words, there was nothing to be gained from making his failing public other than pity. Henrietta wanted none of that. She likewise dismissed revenge and focused instead on how best to extricate herself from a situation that had not been of her making. Throughout the marriage Charles had shown her nothing but cruelty and tyranny and in doing so, she wondered, had he not implicitly released her from the vows she had made as a young and hopeful bride? Henrietta considered those vows as solemn and binding as any legal contract and she had, over the years of misery and torment, endeavoured to fill her side of the agreement. Time and again she had acquiesced to Charles without question, letting him plunge them into debt, squander her money and drag her across the country under a pseudonym designed to escape their creditors. Charles, to the contrary, had broken every vow he had ever made to Henrietta and in doing so, she concluded that he had broken the contract that marriage had established between them. Morally, Henrietta determined that this freed her from her solemn oath, whatever polite society might say behind its hand.
Henrietta had made her choice. Against her husband’s furious wishes, she packed her things and prepared to follow the Princess of Wales to Leicester House. It was the first time that Henrietta had expressly gone against Charles’ wishes and he flew into a rage, mired in a delusion of self-pity as he told her that he had been far from a tyrant. In fact, he eventually convinced himself that his only fault had been his generosity, “making you so Independent on [sic] me”116 that Henrietta had become wilful and allowed herself to be swept up in her new life with the princess. Charles wanted his wife to give up her role in Caroline’s retinue and, one suspects, fully expected that she would capitulate. She always had in the past, after all.
Instead, Henrietta stuck to her guns. Never before had she disobeyed her husband and it’s likely that the certainty with which Henrietta clung to her plans rather wrongfooted him. Faced with losing his wife so publicly, Charles tried to save face by telling Henrietta that it didn’t matter if she had decided to go or not, because instead he was now ordering her to leave his presence. As far as he was concerned, their marriage was over. It’s entirely likely that the controlling Charles, who was not used to being told no, expected his dramatic grandstanding might win him the victory, but Henrietta had no love left for her husband. Instead he had given her precisely the escape route she needed. Charles Howard’s furious tantrum served only to grant Henrietta her freedom. It would also cost her her son.
George I was happy to fan the flames of the dispute and blamed his son’s caprice for splitting husband and wife. Charles Howard cared nothing for Henrietta beyond the cash he coerced from her, but he pursued her anyway, leaving Henrietta to accuse him of doing so in the “poor precarious expectation of court favours.”117 He didn’t want her, she knew, all he wanted was to cosy up to the king. Henrietta, meanwhile, maintained her composure throughout, even going so far as to apologise to her brutal husband for speaking harshly to him when they parted. Yet by telling Henrietta that he considered her to have forfeited her position as his wife if she left, Charles played right into her hands. He had effectively confirmed what she had already decided: she was free to take whatever path she chose. Even Charles’ threats to take legal action couldn’t move Henrietta. By leaving, she pointed out, she had simply obeyed her husband when “[you] dismiss’d me from living any more with you”118.
Though she was still not the king’s mistress, leaving St James’s Palace to remain with the Princess of Wales’ household was as close to a respectable separation as Henrietta might hope to get. It provided her too with royal protection, a wage, and a roof over her head. The mutual contract of marriage that Henrietta had mused on in her private jottings had been well and truly severed.
Yet despite her introspection, Henrietta had reckoned without the depths of her husband’s cruelty. In leaving St James’s Palace she had humiliated Charles Howard and worse still, everyone in the gossip-fuelled hothouse of the royal court would know that she had gone. Furious and bent on revenge, he did the one thing that he knew without a doubt would hurt his wife more than any physical blow. Perhaps taking his lead from George I and his refusal to let his grandchildren go with their parents when they left the royal household, Charles did the same thing. He refused to let little Henry go to Leicester House with his mother and he forbade Henrietta from visiting her son again. The price of freedom had been high. Charles was determined that the son Henrietta adored would be taught to loathe her very name. He warned his wife that “No artifice, or Temptation of Reward upon earth, will ever Prevaile with him to desert me.” As far as Charles was concerned, Henrietta had brought this last act of cruelty on herself and he would relish exacting his revenge. It was the one thing he did well.