Romantic Interests: Sex, Lies and Poetry Redux, Part 1
Detail from Robert Cruikshank's 1820 satirical print, "Public Opinion!" Here, the loyalty of the British people to the Queen outweighs the secrets, spies and hypocrisy of the King.
Twenty years ago, as part of the larger NYPL exhibition "The Collecting Adventure, 1895-1995," then-Pforzheimer Collection Curator Stephen Wagner displayed some choice materials on England's Queen Caroline (1768-1821) and the Romantic poets' reactions to her controversial 1820 trial for adultery. Set up in the Salomon Room of what is now the Stephen A. Schwarzman Building, the exhibition opened on September 30, 1995 and was to be up until the following February. Unfortunately, a massive ceiling leak forced the exhibit to close after only two days; it did not reopen.
Here I digitally present Stephen Wagner's exhibit (in the first of two blog posts), with some additions and alterations:
Sex, Lies, and Poetry: Royal Scandal
In the 1920s, when Carl Pforzheimer began putting together what would grow into the Shelley and His Circle collection, he did not wish simply to amass a roomful of "treasures" or literary highlights. From the outset, his intention was to document not only the private and creative lives of a small, closely connected group of writers, but also the social and intellectual milieu from which they sprang. Nothing illustrates his approach to collecting better than this aggregation of material generated by the Queen Caroline affair of 1820.
King George IV and Queen Caroline; hand-colored engravings after painted portraits. These are details from the frontispieces of volumes 1-2 of J. H. Adolphus's 1821 biography of Caroline, "The Royal Exile; or, Memoirs of the Public and Private Life of Her
Satirical cartoons of the King and Queen with their lovers. Left: From the verse satire, "A Political Lecture on Heads, alias Blockheads!!" Here, the drunken King is depicted with Isabella, Lady Hertford, just one of his many mistresses. Right: a detail f
When the dissolute, spendthrift son of George III—referred to by his detractors as the "Prince of W[h]ales"—ascended the throne, he wished to rid himself of his wife, Caroline, from whom he had long been estranged, and instituted divorce proceedings against her in the House of Lords. The "trial" lasted for eleven weeks during the summer and autumn of 1820.
Detail of the title-vignette to "The Trial of the Queen of England in the House of Lords", v. 2.
The grounds were adultery—potentially a capital offense when royalty was involved—and the correspondent was an Italian named Bartolomeo Bergami, Caroline's former courier and bodyguard, whom she had given the title of Baron. The testimony against her, drawn mostly from government spies and suborned servants, was collected and placed in the famous "green bag," the customary container for evidence.
Left: The King ogles the "green bag" of evidence, filled with snakes, etc., representing lies; from "The Green Bag: A Dainty Dish to Set Before a King". Right: The Queen's bath time with Bergami; from "The New Pilgrim's Progress; or, A Journey to Jerusale
The first witness for the prosecution was a surprise to the Queen: her former manservant, an Italian named Theodore Majocchi. When he was called to the stand, Caroline was so shocked that she let out a cry (heard by some as "Teodoro!" and others as "Traditore!") and stumbled out of the court. Majocchi provided damning testimony of inappropriate behavior between Caroline and Bergami (including bathing together, and sleeping in the same tent while on the road). Upon cross examination, however, Majocchi's answer to many of the defense attorney's questions was an improbable "Non mi ricordo" (I do not remember), which caused outbursts of laughter in the courtroom. His credibility as a witness was severely compromised.
Left: A betrayed Caroline fleeing the courtroom. From "The New Pilgrim's Progress; or, A Journey to Jerusalem". Right: Majocchi's "memory loss" on the witness stand became a national joke. This caricature shows him clutching a bag of money "gained by perj
The King was extremely unpopular, and his heavy-handed treatment of his wife—whatever the merits of his case against her—generated such an outpouring of sympathy for the Queen's cause that the regime itself was threatened. The liberal and radical opposition naturally sought to capitalize on the issue, and hundreds of pamphlets and broadsides quickly appeared, including several with cartoons by the brothers Robert and George Cruikshank, the most famous illustrators of the day.
George Cruikshank's sympathies to Caroline are suggested by the positive depictions of her in his published work, such as his illustrations to William Hone's "The Queen's Matrimonial Ladder", as well as in this flattering original ink-wash portrait he dre
A ticket for the coronation ceremony of George IV; the Queen was turned away not having one. This ticket belonged to the poet Samuel Rogers.
After the trial, a bill to end the marriage and strip the Queen of her title failed in Parliament. She was not acquitted of the charges against her, but she maintained the right to be Caroline, Queen Consort of George IV.
Any sweetness in victory did not last. Months later, when the Queen showed up to attend her husband's coronation celebration, she was turned away for not having a ticket—a humiliation compounded by the jeers and hisses of the crowd. Less than two weeks later, after a brief put painful illness apparently caused by intestinal blockage, she died.
At the end of her funeral procession, mourning supporters placed an inscription on her coffin: "Caroline, the Injured Queen of England."
Part two of this two-part post will explore reactions to the Queen's trial in letters and poems by Percy Bysshe Shelley, Lord Byron, and Leigh Hunt.