State visits to London hosted by the Prince Regent did not go according to plan. From Royalty Digest 25, July 1993

In Apri11814, England at last received the news she had awaited so long. Paris was occupied by the allies, and Napoleon Bonaparte, Emperor of the French, had abdicated. He would make one final vain attempt to retrieve his throne and Empire at the battle of Waterloo the following year, but to all intents and purposes the war in Europe was virtually over.

The Prince of Wales, appointed Prince Regent in 1811, had never wavered in his support for the Bourbon dynasty. Without consulting his ministers, he ordered the Russian Ambassador, Prince Lieven, to inform Tsar Alexander that England would regard any peace as temporary which did not provide for a Bourbon King on the French throne.

King Louis XVIII, brother of Louis XVI who had been guillotined in 1793, had spent most of his exile at Hartwell, Buckinghamshire, and the Prince Regent decided to give him a fitting send-off. It was an excellent excuse for a grand display of monarchical solidarity, and a colourful prelude to state visits, from other allied sovereigns planned for the summer. The Regent was always at his happiest when acting as master of ceremonies on such occasions, and he hoped that the festivities would silence his critics at home and win him respect from his brother sovereigns. Splendid uniforms would be worn; there I would be processions and illuminations; vast state banquets would be held; and the crowds that cheered them would surely cheer him as well. Sadly for him, many of his hopes would be thwarted.

On 20 April, resplendent in his Field-Marshal's uniform, the Regent left Carlton House to meet King Louis at Stanmore. After an emotional greeting, a procession of seven carriages, escorted by a troop of Life Guards, made a state entry into Piccadilly. King Louis spent three nights at Grillon's Hotel, AIbemarle Street, where orders of chivalry were exchanged. Next day he was guest of honour at a splendid dinner at Carlton House, prior to sailing from Dover on board the yacht Royal Sovereign.

Now the Regent could oversee preparations for the other allied sovereigns' arrival at the beginning of June. He had never been near any battlefields himself, but he felt that by virtue of his rank as virtual head of state, he himself had made an immense personal contribution to the victory over France. Wellington 's campaigns, subsidies to the allies, and the naval blockade, had all been Britain's doing - and he represented Britain. It was only right that he should bask in the full glow of reflected glory.

Francis, Emperor of Austria, declined to come to England, sending his Foreign Minister Count Metternich to represent him, but King Frederick William III of Prussia and Tsar Alexander I of Russia announced that they would come. They landed together at Dover on 7 June, and the Tsar immediately won the crowds over by declaring in English that he had just 'set foot upon the land that has saved us all.'

However, the Regent was secretly dreading their arrival. He suspected they might not be as cordial as he had hoped, particularly as the Tsar's recently widowed sister Catherine, Grand Duchess of Oldenburg, had been staying in London since the end of March. She had installed herself at Pulteney's Hotel, Piccadilly, and the Regent arrived to welcome her to England before she had had time to change out of her travelling clothes. Meeting each other on the staircase before she was ready, they had taken an instant dislike to each other. When she went to inspect Whitbread's Brewery a few days later and was shown round by Samuel Whitbread himself, a radical MP who had repeatedly denounced the war against Napoleon, his dislike hardened.

A dinner at Carlton House to which she was invited started badly when she complained that the sound of music made her feel sick, and asked for the band to be dismissed. Attempting to cover his embarrassment, the Regent said he hoped that a woman of her charm would not wear mourning for long, to which she 'answered by an astonished silence and looks full of haughtiness'. When she criticised his treatment of his daughter Princess Charlotte, he replied curtly that when the Princess was married, she would do as her husband wished; 'for the present she does as I wish.' With a barbed smile, the Grand Duchess agreed, telling him that between wife and husband, 'there can only be one will.' Turning to Countess Lieven, wife of the Russian ambassador, the furious Regent whispered, 'this is intolerable.'

The Grand Duchess subsequently wrote to her brother that the Prince Regent was handsome, but visibly used up by dissipation and ratherdisgusting.' She found his affability licentious, not to say obscene, particularly his' brazen way of looking where eyes should not go', and took her revenge by provoking him in every way possible.' She went out of her way to befriend Princess Charlotte and spent hours alone with her in her room, and declared her intention of calling on the Princess of Wales. Only the desperate entreaties of Prince Lieven and his threats of resignation if she did so prevented her.

As the Regent must have feared, the people of London were far more interested in his illustrious guests than in him. Tsar and King, the Prussian Commander Count Blucher, and Platov, leader of the Russian Cossacks, were all loudly cheered wherever they went, while sullen looks and hisses, or perfunctory cheers if he was lucky, were reserved for the Regent. The best receptions were reserved for the Tsar, who was popularly identified with the Russian people's heroic defiance of the French invaders in 1812. His jaunty, familiar manner with the crowds irritated the Regent immensely. Apart from Metternich, none of the guests took much notice of him.

The Tsar, who had ridden into Paris as a conqueror, could not conceal his contempt for the portly English host who had never seen active service himself. This feeling was reinforced by that he had heard from his sister, and by reports of King Louis XVIII's address to the Regent, declaring that it was to the counsels of His Royal Highness, 'to this glorious country, and to the steadfastness of its inhabitants, that he attributed the re-establishment of his house on the throne of his ancestors. That King Louis should have ignored the Tsar's contribution to the downfall of Napoleon was an insult. To the Regent's irritation, on his arrival he declined an offer to stay at St James's Palace, and insisted on joining his sister at Pulteney's. During the next few days, Tsar and Regent persistently kept each other waiting for appointments, and scarcely looked at each other when they did meet.

The bluff King Frederick William, a soldier who likewise had very little in common with the Regent as a person, was slightly more co-operative. He came to stay at Clarence House, as arranged, but ignored the suite of elegant satinwood furniture provided for his comfort, and demanded a spartan camp bed to sleep on. Throughout his stay in England, according to the diarist Creevey, he behaved like 'a sulky bear'.

After a dinner at Carlton House, the Tsar was introduced to Lady Hertford, the Regent's current mistress. He bowed without saying anything to her, remarking as he turned away, 'She is mighty old'. As he had recently begun a liaison at home with an elderly female evangelist, the Regent added hypocrisy to his mental list of charges against the Tsar. He further irritated the royal family by asking repeatedly to be allowed to see King George III, as if the incurably deranged King of England at Windsor was one of the sights of Britain.

Under the circumstances, it was magnanimous of the Regent to commission Thomas Lawrence to paint his distinguished guests in celebration of their visit, though he stopped short of requesting a portrait of the Grand Duchess as well. The pictures were later hung in the Waterloo Gallery at Windsor.

The Regent had not made matters easier for himself by pointedly excluding his estranged wife from the festivities, but the Princess of Wales was determined not to be ignored. Although she had been debarred from attending official functions, the Regent could not prevent her from appearing at a gala concert at CoventGarden. The theatre was packed, and the sovereigns, with the Regent sitting between them, had just sat down after 'God save the King' had been sung, when fresh shouts and applause were heard directed towards the Princess's box. She had entered with impeccable timing, and one observer noted he had never seen 'anything so pointed as the manner in which the entire audience turned to her and cheered her.' The Regent bowed, concealing his anger by pretending to assume that the cheers were partly for himself; the King and Tsar bowed as well, the latter peering with interest through his eyeglass at the woman whom his Ambassador had begged him and his sister not to visit.

Among the festivities were receptions at Oxford where they were to receive the honorary degree of Doctor of Civil Law. At the dinner, where spectators were admitted to the gallery to watch the feast, General Prince von Blucher partook generously of strong beer and cognac and became extremely drunk. He did so again a few days later at another dinner at Christ Church, and when his health was drunk he mumbled an unintelligible response in guttural German. At once the Regent stood up and declared gracefully that so excellent a speech should not be lost on the greater part of the company; in the absence of a better interpreter, he would do so himself. 'He then delivered an extremely neat and tactful address of thanks to the University.'

At a naval review at Spithead, the Duke of Clarence, who was Commander-in-Chief, hoisted his flag in HMS Impregnable, from which the Regent, King and Tsar were to witness the extent of Britain 's maritime force. As the Duke led them on board, he saw something amiss with the top-gallant yard. Putting his hand to his mouth, he shouted out a deafening stream of oaths to the sailors up there. The Tsar and King were rather startled, but the Regent was used to covering up for his brother at embarrassing moments. 'What a good sailor William is,' he remarked solemnly.

Towards the end of the visit, a splendid banquet was held at the Guildhall. On proceeding to his place on the dais through an aisle between the 700 standing guests, the Regent had to wait while the Tsar stopped to chat with two of the ministers. The Grand Duchess Catherine added to his fury by insisting that the singers from the Italian Opera stop their performance. Only he reluctantly did she agree to 'God save the King' being played softly after the loyal toast.

By now, Ministers and opposition were almost as tired of her and her brother's behaviour as the Regent himself. As Lord Liverpool, Prime Minister, remarked to Countess Lieven, 'When folks don't know how to behave, they would do better to stay at home. ' Creevey wrote with sympathy; ‘All agree that Prinny will die or go mad; he is worn out with fuss, fatigue and rage.' After a grand review in Hyde Park, the sovereigns sailed from by Dover on 27 June. Goaded almost beyond endurance, the Regent felt that the day had come not a moment too soon.