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Excerpt regarding the Prince and His Women from the Memoirs of George IV (1831) 65-81.

Perhaps no prince nor monarch was ever more under the control of women than our late most glorious Sovereign, and that no injury did or could accrue to the country from such an ascendancy, can only be promulgated by those who look on the superficies of things, and who regulate their opinions, not from any previously acquired knowledge of the human character, but from a factitious estimate which they have formed for themselves of what man ought to be. Persons of this description feel disposed to reject the belief that which is not usual, and to doubt what they do not feel themselves as the criterion of the human capacity for particular types of pleasure; and in regard to the Prince of Wales, such people would be inclined to consider it incredible, that, although at the period when his wife was living at Montague House, repudiated, it is true, from his bed and board, that Lady Jersey was an in-pensioner of Carlton House--Mrs. Fitzherbert was an out-pensioner--Mrs. Hope, Mrs. Cholomondeley, and Mrs. Hamilton, occasional visitors; yet, that notwithstanding he was surrounded by this halo of feminine beauty, a certain establishment was kept up in May Fair, which had the resemblance of a Turkish mart for Circassian beauties, where noble and ignoble objects were daily presented to the gaze of the royal voluptuary, and honoured and flattered was the infatuated girl when royalty condescended to bestow a smile upon her. Neither the names nor dates of those individuals, on whom the beams of royalty descended, nor the duration of their favouritism, admit of chronological proof, nor of general acquaintance, but a sufficient number of well known persons, who have published their own shame and infamy, or who have been mixed up with some flagrant act of court, verify the tale of the dissolute and debauched habits of the Prince. If the names of more persons be not known, it is owing to the secrecy with which such connexions are contracted and conducted, rather than a proof of their non-existence. Messalina is no more a fable of antiquity than Catherine of Russia is of modern times; the prototype of the former was by no means an apparition at the court of Carlton Palace; the reality was visible to every one who breathed its corrupted atmosphere; and in regard to the latter meretricious potentate, the Carlton House conspirators were at this time clandestinely at work to prove to the English people, that her prototype was to be found in the wife of the Prince Regent of England.

The immortal Alfred was a patriot king, and Henry IV of France, if he could have been persuaded that any man in his realm had an exclusive right the  possession of a handsome woman, might have nearly approached to that character; the Prince of Wales appears to be the subject to the same drawback on his patriotism as the French monarch, for two greater monopolists of female beauty are not to be met with in the records of history, with the exception, perhaps, of King Solomon. It is true that the Prince of Wales had no avowed establishment like Louis XV of France, for training children for prostitution, but were there no private seminaries 'under covert and convenient seeming' for the gratification of his passions? Where there no boarding schools in the vicinity of Hammersmith and Somers Town, explored by pretended dancing and music masters, for some precocious objects ripening before their time, to be led away by the splendor and show of rank and riches to inhale the polluted air of a royal brothel--were the heart-rending scenes so beautifully described in the exquisite novel of 'Peggy and Patty,' never realized by the satraps of Carlton Palace? Would, for the sake of humanity--for the sake of the character of our nature, that these questions could be answered in the negative. But alas! We could point to the spots, we could point to the objects themselves, the sorrows of some of whom are long since hushed in the grave; we could point to one spot in particular, where once flourished two lovely rosebuds, bursting in all their glowing beauty on the parent branch--so guarded and protected, that scarcely a breath of heaven was allowed to pass over them--but the fated moment came, scarcely was the fullness of the rose put forth, than some treacherous reptile crept into the chalice, the flowerets withered, drooped, and died. . . .

It was in one of his visits to Bath, to which place John M'Mahon sometimes retired, to recreate himself from the toils of his profession, and to dislodge an enemy to his repose, known by the name of the gout, that the coach in which he was a passenger received an addition to its freight on leaving Marlborough, in the persons of a respectable-looking, venerable, gentleman and two young ladies, whose destination was the same town to which the wily courtier was repairing. The tact of the man of the world was soon exhibited by M'Mahon, whose eyes were feasting on the youthful beauty so unexpectedly presented to his view, and he soon elicited from his new companion, that he was a minister of the church of England, living upon the small pittance of a curacy, in the vicinity of Marlborough, and that the two ladies were his daughters, whom he was accompanying to Bath on a visit to a distant relative. From that moment the ruin of these lovely girls was determined upon, and although M'Mahon in person was not that cast nor make which possesses great influence over the female heart, yet there was so much of the politeness, the easy familiarity, and the urbanity of the finished gentleman about him, that the clergyman and his daughters were delighted with their new acquaintance, and on their arrival at the place of destination, the mutual offer of a further intimacy passed between them.

We have been allowed to take a transcript of the following letter, which was written by John M'Mahon to his royal master a few days after his arrival at Bath.

(Most Private)

Bath, Sunday Evening.

Sir,

Ever alive to the obtaining possession of any object which may contribute to your royal pleasures, I hasten to inform your Royal Highness, that chance has thrown me into the company of two most lovely girls, the daughters of an indigent curate, and who, from their apparent simplicity and ignorance of the world, may be soon brought to comply with the wishes of your Royal Highness. I shall immediately devise some plan by which they may be induced to visit the metropolis, and the remainder of my task will then not be difficult of execution. The prize is too valuable to be lost sight of--the elder of the girls bears some resemblance in her form and make to Hillisberg--although it is evident that the whole fullness of her growth has not yet developed itself. The younger is more of a languishing beauty; but from the knowledge which I possess of your royal taste, the elder will be the object of your choice.

I have the honour to remain &c, &c.

John M'Mahon

To His Royal Highness

The Prince Regent, &c, &c.

. . . .

The intimacy between John M'Mahon and the clergyman's family daily increased. Youth is too prone to be dazzled by a display of rank; and the knowledge that they were honoured with the acquaintance and the personal esteem of the friend and confident of the Prince Regent, co-operated not a little to instill into the minds of the artless girls an increased opinion of their own importance, and a growing dislike to the secluded mode of life to which they had been hitherto confined. This was the first step to their fall; the poison of adulation was hourly instilled into their too susceptible hearts; the world of fashion, of gaiety and pleasure, had opened upon them, and, . . . there was a voice within which began to tell them that to love and be loved is the bliss of human life.

John M'Mahon was well versed in the principle, that the first step to gain a daughter's confidence and affection, is to befriend her father. Gratitude then takes root in the daughter's breast, and the fallacious opinion is formed, that he who has shown himself a real friend to her parent, cannot be an enemy to herself. The proffers of John M'Mahon to further the promotion of their father, through his influence with the Prince Regent, were received by the lovely girls with all the warmth of the most unsuspecting innocence; they hailed the day which threw them into his society as the most fortunate of their lives; and the enthusiasm of youth--brightest sometimes when it should be the most softened--beheld on every side a vista of happiness opening before it. The entranced imagination of an ardent spirit, bounding over all the ills and accidents of life, was to be read in the sparkling eye, in the rosy cheek, and in the hurried motion of the glowing bosom, redolent with nature's purest, sweetest feelings.

To the great grief of the clergyman and his lovely daughters, their kind and estimable friend was called to town, at the command of his royal master; but some consolation was derived from the promise that he made, on his departure, that he would seize the first opportunity of laying the worthy minister's case before the Prince Regent, whose goodness of heart, whose universal philanthropy, and whose ardent zeal to promote the interest of the good and virtuous, were too universally known and practiced to require any eulogium on his part.

A few weeks had scarcely elapsed from the departure of M'Mahon, when, to the inexpressible joy of the worthy clergyman, a letter was received from him, announcing that a vicarage had just fallen vacant in the immediate vicinity of the metropolis, which, being in the gift of the crown, he had obtained the presentation to it; and he anticipated the pleasure which he should enjoy, in beholding his esteemed friends in their new residence.

With what feelings of delight and boundless gratitude did these hapless victims to perfidy and lust receive this communication. M'Mahon was, at this moment, in their eyes little short of a demi-god; . . . the unsuspecting and credulous father saw before him, for the remainder of his life, content, competency and independence; the infatuated females saw a world of pleasure opening to their view; the dull monotony of a country life was now complained of as inconsistent with the natural gaiety of youth; . . . .

Amongst the celebrated females, who formed at this time the galaxy of beauty encircling the royal court (for purity of character was by no means a sine qua non of admission into the Ottomanic court of the Prince Regent, whatever it might have been into that of his mother) shone pre-eminently Mrs. Duff. Her title to that name had not been bestowed upon her by any ordinance of the church, but from her having been at an early age taken under the protection of a celebrated libertine of that name, who very condescendingly and becomingly transferred her into the arms of the Prince of Wales, who, considering that consistency of conduct is a very valuable and laudable trait in the character of a man, and particularly of a Prince, adhered to his usual habits in matters of this kind, and consigned the yielding beauty to the possession of a young sprig of nobility, just then bursting with all his eccentricities upon the fashionable world, and who in his career of dissipation and gambling has been the instrument of the ruin of a greater number of thoughtless and improvident young men, than any other individual in the whole volume of the peerage.

We have seen this fashionable demirep from Fop-s-alley, occupying her box on the third tier, surrounded by the libertines of the age, young and old, and particularly by a Reverent Knight, the incumbent of a valuable living, seven miles west of London,  and one of the worthy and upright chaplains of Carlton House, and who, being anxious to fill two characters at the same time, took upon himself those of a chaplain in the ordinary, and an ordinary chaplain,--the only office of the former being to appear regularly at the ordinary which was then provided daily at Carlton House for the gratification of the appetite of the official dignitaries of the church, amounting in number to about two hundred and fifty, and the effect of whose example and the efficacy of whose precepts were clearly distinguishable in the morals, and habits of those inmates of the Palace who had the good fortune to be under their pastoral and most holy care.

At the time of the seduction of the clergyman's daughters was resolve upon, we find this woman living in Gloucesters-place, New-road, under the name of Mrs. General Hamilton. She was considered in the neighbourhood as a lady who had moved in the very highest circles, but the death of whose husband had obliged her to retrench her expenditure, and to contract the circle of her acquaintance; still, at the same time there were those busy bodies, those pests of every neighbourhood, who bruited it about that certain transactions were carried on in her house, which had no relationship to either morality or virtue. Of female acquaintance she appeared to be almost wholly bereft; but, on the other hand, her intimacy with the other sex was of the most enlarged description. But then it was said by her advocates . . . that the widow of a general officer must, from the very nature of the profession of her husband, have contracted an intimacy with many of his brethren in arms; and what could be more natural than that, from a respect to the deceased, they should continue their attentions to his disconsolate widow. A real man of the world could not, however, have remained long in error, in regard to the character of this woman. With the knowledge which every woman of this kind possesses that she is discarded by the world, all her endeavours trend to show that she, in return, contemns the world. The barriers of virtue being broken down, and no possibility existing of her being again received within the pale of it, she acts from the immediate impulse of her passions, without reflecting for a moment as to the consequences which may result to herself or to others. The world at war with her, she is at war with the world. She laughs at the factitious institutions with which a bastard kind of morality has clogged the operations of society; she sneers at the virtue of the prude, and rejoices, in the true spirit of revenge, if, by her arts, she can reduce another female to the same condition as herself. . . .

We have been obliged thus to enter at large into the character of this woman, as she was a principal actress in the deep tragedy which we are now reciting. She was one of those creatures--the disgrace of her sex--who, for the sake of private emolument, will take upon themselves the scandalous office of being the first to sap the foundation of female virtue; and, by a cool and deliberate system of villainous stratagem--by machinations and snares beyond the inexperience of youth to compete with--to sacrifice her blooming victim on the unhallowed altar of a prince's lust.

We heard it said, by the late Duke of Queensbury, that there never was a female, married or single, whichever attracted his fancy, whom this woman did not ultimately succeed in obtaining for him; and the same character may, with the greatest truth, be given her by the Prince of Wales. A systematic seducer knows well that an artful, intriguing woman will do more in one day towards effecting the ruin of female innocence, than he would himself be able to effect in a month. The virtuous and innocent girl feels an alarm at the first bold advances of the seducer; her innate sense of modesty rises in opposition to them; the spirit of virtue, still conscious of its strength, interposes its all-powerful shield; and if a deep affection--that potent and irresistible auxiliary--interferes not with its influence, the brilliance of the gem may be retained, and its purity unsullied by any art or force that can be brought against it.

Differently, however, is it constituted when the aid of a professional family seducer is called in to bring the first stain upon the purity of the gem, and slowly and gradually to efface it altogether. The danger is not suspected which lies in the artful expression--in the ambiguous insinuation--in the apparent endeavour not to give a shock to an innate sense of modesty and virtue. The first blush is the first indication of a wound which that modesty has received; it is a silent confession that a feeling has been excited of which the artful and vigilant intriguante has only to take the proper advantage, and the half, and the most difficult part of her task is accomplished.

To John M'Mahon, and other such purveyors to the royal pleasures, a woman of this description was invaluable; and, in all cases of extreme difficulty, she as resorted to as the sheet-anchor on which they could rely for the consummation of their wishes. That the seduction of one or both of the clergyman's daughters would be a matter of difficulty was at once apparent to the wily courtier. The vigilance of a parent was to be lulled--scruples were to be overcome, which fastidiousness, or an ignorance of the manners of high life, might throw in the way. A rusticated beauty, who has breathed no other air than that of her paternal fields, brought on a sudden to the din and splendour of the metropolis, is like a transplanted flower--it is sometimes long before she can assimilate herself to her new condition--she feels herself in a world of strangers, and is apt to form an opinion of their respective characters according to the dictates of her own unsophisticated mind. Simple, candid, and sincere herself, she is not able to discriminate between truth and flattery; and, mistaking the one for the other, the weakness of the female character is basely taken advantage of, to effect the destruction of the only remaining principles of virtue and innocence.

In the essentials which go to form the human character, the two girls differed widely from each other; nor did this difference escape the experienced eye of M'Mahon. The elder was all fire--all energy; there was a vivacity of spirit about her which seemed to fit her for an intercourse with the great world, at the same time that it enhanced the difficulty in the accomplishment of her ruin. There appeared also a firmness and decision in her character which led M'Mahon to draw the inference that, if she had once formed a resolution, she could not be brought easily to deviate from it. And how was a character of this description to be won? And, if won, how was it to be retained? Was passion, or affection, to be excited? Both, it is true, lead to the same result; but the former although it may be the shorter road, is not always the most certain in its effects. The latter is the effect of time--though sudden in some cases; but, being once established, the conquest soon follows.

Her general demeanour seemed to announce that she was conscious to herself that she could command the love of her admirers, without any studied art or professed inclination to acquire it. The gossips of her native village had lauded her beauty--her mirror had not belied their praises. A novel, which now and then was obtained by stealth from a circulating library at Marlborough, had inflamed her naturally romantic mind with the extravagant idea of the irresistibility of female beauty; and perceiving that the louts and clodpoles, by whom she had hitherto been surrounded, had not pretensions whatever to become the heroes of her 'love's tale,' she longed for her transition to another sphere, where the fullness of her personal charms would make their proper impression, and the glowing visions of her secret thoughts assume the form of reality.

That this was a frame and temper of mind dangerous in the extreme to its possessor must be self-evident; that it was a weakness, which a woman of the penetration of Mrs. Hamilton would know how to turn to the advantage of her employers, is too unfortunately verified by the sequel.

The younger of these young girls was to her sister what the moon is to the sun. There was a soft and mellowed chasteness beaming from her eye, which told of a vestal flame that glowed within, pure as the beam when it leaves the source of light, and falling on the human heart, with all its heavenly influence.

. . . .

She grew up under the eye of an affectionate and indulgent parent, his dearest, proudest hope. Her whole heart appeared to be vivified with affection; and, like the ivy, her whole study seemed to be to find some kindred object to which she could cling, and having once clasped it, to be so identified with its existence, that the same power which destroyed the one should also destroy the other.

Such were the characters now destined to fall a sacrifice to the profligate and libertine habits of a British prince. The obligations which this virtuous family conceived themselves to lie under the John M'Mahon--the kind and disinterested promoter of their future welfare, were further increased by the attention which he paid to their comfort and convenience immediately on their arrival in the metropolis; he having informed them that he had procured for them lodgings at the house of a Mrs. Hamilton, a widow lady of the highest respectability, and where all the comforts of a genteel establishment would be afforded them.

To the house, therefore, of Mrs. Hamilton, the clergyman repaired with his daughters; and, the day after their arrival, they were delighted to receive a visit from their kind and generous benefactor. He assured the worthy pastor that the necessary arrangements were going on for his induction into his new benefice; and that, in the interim, his time, and that of his daughters, might be agreeably employed in visiting the different places of amusement in the metropolis, to which, under the auspices of Mrs. Hamilton, it would confer the highest degree of pleasure upon him to be their conductor and companion.

The hearts of the two girls, now on the eve of being introduced to scenes of gaiety and dissipation, bounded with all the warmth of youthful expectation. Anticipation of new and untasted pleasures sparkled in their eyes, with every opening day; and the kind and maternal solicitude which Mrs. Hamilton evinced, on every occasion in which their comfort or health was concerned, would have lulled the vigilance and suspicions of the most scrupulous parent. The first step was gained--confidence was established--and gradually and imperceptibly approached the last tragic scene of the eventful drama.

Amongst the numerous visitors who attended the evening parties of Mrs. Hamilton, was one individual whose elegance of manners, personal endowments, vivacity of spirit, and refined conversation, attracted the particular attention of the youthful beauties. He was introduced by that best of men, and kindest of friends, Sir John M'Mahon, as Colonel Fox, a gentleman allied to one of the noblest families in the kingdom, and possessed of a large independent fortune. The circumstance that, in the evenings when Colonel Fox graced the domestic circle with his presence, no other visitor was ever admitted, was not considered by the pastor and his daughters as deserving of their particular notice. It could not be the effect of design or premeditation; for, to all appearances, his visits were merely accidental--a kind of en passant affair--and the additional circumstance, that he was generally accompanied by his friend M'Mahon set all doubt at rest, on their part, of any intended disguise or concealment.

It may be almost needless to state that this Colonel Fox was the Prince of Wales; and it must not be supposed that 'the most accomplished gentleman of Europe' failed in making that impression on the hearts of the clergyman's daughters, which his superior endowments had so often effected on the hearts of their fellow-women. The great difficulty, however, lay in so dividing his attentions that neither of them should assume that she was the favoured object of his affection. If a present were made to the one, another, proportionately rich and costly, was made to the other. If, on one evening, a confidential tête-à-tête took place with the elder sister, on the following evening his attentions appeared to be studiously directed at the younger. Thus both of them were inhaling a poison destructive of their internal peace, at the same time that they were preparing the road for the destruction of their innocence. Mrs. Hamilton, by false representations and artful innuendoes, contrived to keep up this delusion between her unsuspecting victims, at the same time that she extracted from them that secret which a woman generally tells last, and which, when told, forms the most interesting and memorable epoch of her life. The plans were verging fast to maturity; the presence of the worthy minister operated, however, in some degree, as a drawback to their final accomplishment. His removal was, therefore, necessary; and he was consequently informed that an unexpected obstacle had arisen in the presentation of the benefice which had fallen vacant; but that an advowson of considerable value had devolved to the crown, in a village in Leicestershire, to which, if he pleased, his induction could be instantly confirmed. This intelligence was received by the two girls with evident marks of grief--it was removing them again to the dull and monotonous scenes of a country life, and from an object from whom separation was regarded as the greatest calamity that could befall them.

It was, however, proposed to the credulous minister, that he should himself take a personal survey of his intended benefice, previously to the confirmation of the grant; and that, in the mean time, his daughters should remain under the hospitable roof of Mrs. Hamilton, who, during the absence of the parent, would watch over their personal interests with all the anxious solicitude of a mother. Joy again sparkled in the eyes of the lovely girls, and they saw their father depart, little thinking that the affectionate kiss which he gave them was the last which their lips would ever receive from him in this world.

One morning M'Mahon called at an earlier hour than usual, on the plea of having some important business to transact with Mrs. Hamilton, relative to the affairs of her late husband, which rendered it advisable that she should see her solicitor immediately on the subject. The carriage was instantly ordered, and whilst M'Mahon consented to remain as the companion of the younger, Mrs. Hamilton set off with the elder of the girls, on her pretended visit to the attorney. 'We will drive first to Taylor's, in Bond-street,' said Mrs. Hamilton, 'as he has some commissions for me to execute;' and, accordingly, they were driven to that infamous resort of titled demireps and fashionable prostitutes. Mrs. Hamilton and her beautiful protégée were requested by the obsequious and accommodating shoemaker to walk up into the drawing-room, but which Mrs. Hamilton soon left again, pretending that she had some private business to transact with Taylor. Returning in a few minutes, she exclaimed, 'How truly fortunate we are: Colonel Fox has just entered the shop, and, being apprised of your being here, he has solicited permission to keep you company, until I return from my solicitor's: you cannot refuse the request;' and, without waiting for a reply, she left the room.

The lovely, blushing girl, so taken by surprise, was, in fact, scarcely able to reply; wavering between hope and fear--prompted, by the sense of shame and modesty to refuse--influenced by the commanding voice of an ardent attachment, willing to grant it. The beatings of her heart were audible, as she heard the approaching footsteps of the man to whom, in secret, she offered up her virgin vows, and by whom to be beloved she should consider as the attainment of the dearest of her earthly hopes. Irresistible in the power of his personal accomplishments, the trembling victim received her destroyer. In the delirium of passion he seized her hand--vowed that no other love should ever fill his heart--that in the return of his love was centred the future happiness of his life--and that, being once gained, he envied not the distinctions of rank, nor all the splendour of a prince's throne.

Confusion--embarrassment--a perturbation yet unknown--betrayed to the experienced seducer the emotions of her virgin heart. As yet, no confession had escaped her lips; but there is a language more eloquent than words. It spoke in the blush on her cheek--in the tremor of her whole frame--in the faint and powerless opposition to the warm and glowing kiss which was implanted on her lips.

In this hour rang the knell of her maiden innocence; the seducer saw victory was his, but he advanced towards it gradually and cautiously. The fated hour at length came, and another victim was added to the insatiable passion of the royal voluptuary.

We will here draw the veil over the remaining part of this tragical story. The recital of the various stratagems which were used to draw the two sisters within the power of the seducer would be only be one continued display of scenes revolting to humanity and the common feelings of our nature. The younger is still living; and, in charity for the sufferings she has endured, and still endures, we will not give any further clue by which a spirit of malicious curiosity could be satisfied, and those wounds be made to bleed afresh, the pain of which has been partially mitigated by the lenient hand of time.

(This incident supposedly occurred in 1812).

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