by Jean Plaidy
Because he had grown very interested in the theatre during his life in England, plays were performed twice a week at Herrenhausen. The performance began at the time decided on by the King and must end exactly on the minute—otherwise he would rise and leave and the show would therefore end in any case.
The English sneered and grumbled among themselves. It was like living in a monastery, they said. They wondered he didn’t set up a system of bells. But there was one advantage; everyone in the Court would know exactly where the King was at a certain time.
But these habits which had caused such mirth in England were placidly accepted in Germany.
The days were however enlivened by the controversy with the King of Prussia, who was not only his cousin but his brother-in-law. George had hated Frederick William when they were boys and he had seen no reason to change his mind. As for Frederick William, he liked nothing better than trouble, so he plunged into the argument with all the violence of his nature.
Townshend tried to persuade the King not to take Frederick William’s insults too seriously.
‘We know, Your Majesty, the nature of the King of Prussia. The stories we hear of the way in which he treats his family are so shocking that they are almost incredible.’
‘Nothing is incredible with that man. He may browbeat his family but he must remember that I am the King of England.’
‘We shall not allow him to forget that, Your Majesty.’
‘See that he does not.’ George’s eyes bulged with fury. ‘Do you remember when the Prince of Wales planned to leave Hanover for Prussia without my consent, when he thought to go there and marry the King of Prussia’s daughter? Well ... then he encouraged it. Without consulting me, this man encouraged my son to go to Prussia and marry his daughter. That is not all. There was a time when he kidnapped Hanoverian guards for one of his regiments. I tell you, Townshend, this man is a menace to the world.’
‘Your Majesty, with your permission I will write and tell him of your displeasure, but both these matters happened some time ago and have perhaps been forgotten by His Majesty of Prussia.’
‘Leave it to me,’ commanded the King. He was not going to have Townshend nip this quarrel in the bud with one of his bits of diplomacy.
* * *
When the King of Prussia received the letter of complaint from his cousin he was delighted.
He stormed into his wife’s apartment where she was taking a little refreshment and roaring with rage cuffed one of the Queen’s pages and sent him to bring his son and daughter to his presence.
‘Your brother!’ he shouted, throwing the letter he had received from George into the bowl of soup.
Sophia Dorothea picked it out daintily and read it. ‘George Augustus is like you,’ she said. ‘He longs for a fight.’
‘Don’t compare me with that popinjay, or I’ll kill you.’
She put her head on one side. ‘That would be a rather strong action to take,’ she said. ‘Surely I have often done much more to offend you than make such a comparison.’
He approached her, his hand raised; she smiled at him; so he contented himself with spitting into her soup.
‘That,’ she added, placidly, ‘will not I fear improve the flavour.’ She began to read her brother’s letter, and laughed. ‘George is such a fool,’ she said.
‘So you have sense enough to see that! ‘
‘And you,’ she added, ‘are a brute. Between you, you should manage to enjoy your correspondence.’
‘Enjoy! I tell you that if I had that little brother of yours here I’d take his neck in my hands and choke the life out of him.’
‘Don’t be too sure he’d let you do it. He’s something of a soldier, you know. And what he lacks in sense he makes up for in courage.’
‘Then he has to have a lot of courage.’
‘He has.’
The Crown Prince and Princess Wilhelmina entered. Their mother glanced at them anxiously; in spite of the ill-treatment they received from their father they did not appear to be unduly afraid. Blows had become commonplace to them. She wondered when Fritz would turn on his father; as for Wilhelmina, whatever marriage she made she could not find a husband to ill-treat her more than her father had.
‘Come here, you devil’s brood,’ he cried.
‘Aptly named,’ put in the Queen.
‘I was referring to you, Madam.’
‘You are unusually modest. It is your custom to exaggerate your own performance.’ Sophia Dorothea always attempted to turn his attention on herself and away from her children; they were aware of it and loved her for it; but they were so accustomed to the wild life led in their father’s palace that they were prepared for violence.
‘And what are you grinning at?’ he demanded of his daughter.
‘I assure you, Father, that I find very little to smile at.’
He lifted his hand and struck her but it was a mild blow compared with those he was accustomed to deliver.
‘This fool of an uncle, your mother’s brother, has been writing to me again. It seems he’s annoyed because we won’t have his daughter here. You’re not going to marry this girl, I tell you. I’ll not have her walking about my Court with her nose in the air making trouble. I don’t hear very good accounts of your cousins in England.’
‘At least,’ said the Queen, ‘my brother was against the match between Frederick and Wilhelmina.’
‘If you hadn’t been such a prattling fool, woman, we’d have that girl of yours off our hands and your brother would be paying the cost of feeding her instead of me.’
‘The fact is,’ put in the Queen, ‘that George Augustus wants us to take his daughter but won’t take ours.’
‘Well, he has some sense after all. He wants to get a girl off his hands and so do we.’
Wilhelmina flinched and the Queen said: ‘Although it would be a good match for Wilhelmina to marry the Prince of Wales, I should be desolate at losing her.’
The King threw back his head and laughed. ‘You fool!’ he shouted. Then he turned to his daughter. ‘Do you think I should be desolate too? Do you?’
‘No, Father,’ answered Wilhelmina. ‘I know you would be glad to be rid of me. It would save you working out so often how much it costs to feed me.’
He caught her by the ear. She stood very still because the more she moved the more painful it would be.
‘Well,’ said the King, releasing her, ‘it would save me time as well as money. But they won’t have you, daughter. The King of England won’t have you, and the Prince of Wales does not want you either.’
Wilhelmina said with some spirit: ‘He has written to say that he is eager to marry me. He has even said that he is foolishly in love.’
The King laughed again. ‘Foolishly. He admits that. The young man has never seen you.’
‘Perhaps accounts of my life here make him feel he would like to rescue me.’
The King was bewildered. Wilhelmina was growing like her mother. She was showing some spirit. She would have to be married soon. He did not want to have to contend with another woman’s sharp tongue.
This thought made him less violent than usual. He turned to his son. ‘And you ... when are you going to marry, eh? You’ll take the wife I find and say thank you.’
The Queen looked anxiously at her son. He was always calm in contrast to his father; it was as though he was only half aware of him as something that must be endured for a while, but not forever. The Queen believed that in her son were seeds of greatness and that the King was aware of this and was sometimes overawed by it and sometimes goaded to even greater violence.
Fritz listened impassively.
‘Well, well,’ cried his father. ‘Don’t stand there like a dummy.’
‘I shall be pleased to marry when a suitable bride is found for me,’ said Fritz.
The King looked frustrated. This family of his would give him no cause to chastise them. Only his wife provoked him, and he did not care to harm her.
‘This fool of a King of England!’ he shouted. ‘Where’s the letter?’
‘A little the worse for a dip in the soup,’ said the Queen, throwing it at him.
It fluttered at his feet; and Fritz picked it up and handed it to his father who proceeded to read it in loud derisive tones.
‘Do you know what I am going to answer this popinjay?’
He glared at them all and went on: ‘I am going to tell him to go back to England where perhaps they are foolish enough to put up with him. I’m going to tell him that if he stays here ... in Germany ... if he writes such letters to me I will take my sword to him and cut off his head and send it back to his dear wife in England who, I understand, he is fool enough to let rule him. I’ll tell him what I think of him. What a family! ‘
‘Your own,’ murmured the Queen.
But the King was too intent on composing an insulting answer to hear her.
George paced up and down his apartment, eyes blazing. Townshend was doing his best to placate him.
‘This madman! ‘ spluttered George. ‘This cousin of mine! How my sister lives with him, I can’t imagine. He’s mad, I tell you. But mad or not he shall not insult me in this manner.’
‘Your Majesty, a note couched in such undiplomatic language should perhaps be ignored.’
‘Ignored. Let him insult me and I ignore him! I tell you this, Townshend, I shall not allow this to pass. Do you know what I am going to do? I am going to challenge the King of Prussia to a duel.’
‘Your Majesty, that would not be possible.’
‘And why, pray?’
Two Kings cannot fight a duel. It has never been. It could not be.’
‘Then we will be the first, for I tell you this, Townshend: I will not be insulted by this man.’
‘Your Majesty .
‘My mind is made up. I shall challenge the King of Prussia and tell him to choose his weapons.’
Townshend looked at his master helplessly; but he could not control him as the Queen and Walpole managed to do.
The King of Prussia was delighted to receive his cousin’s challenge. His family had never seen him in such a good mood. A choice of weapons. He could not decide, he told his wife, whether it should be swords or pistols. He would enjoy firing a shot through his silly heart; on the other hand it would give him even greater satisfaction to slice off his even sillier head.
The Queen shrugged her shoulders; she did not believe for a moment that the two foolish men would ever be allowed to fight in single combat; their ministers would find some way of putting a stop to such antics.
She was right. The King of Prussia’s ministers conferred with those of the King of England and between them they worked out a compromise whereby the two Kings could abandon their foolish project without loss of face on either side.
Townshend, when he did not have to placate the King, was a past master at this art; and so well did he work with the Prussian ministers that in a short time they were trying to bring the two Kings to an agreement about the marriage of the Crown Prince and the Princess Amelia.
This brought satisfaction to George but less so to the King of Prussia. After all, pointed out the latter, George would have one less mouth to feed, he one more, by such an arrangement.
The Queen replied that then they must marry Wilhelmina to the Prince of Wales and although they gained one mouth they would lose one so the feeding bills would not have increased.
The letters went back and forth between Hanover and Prussia. But the situation did not change; each had a daughter of whom he wished to be rid and neither wished to take the other’s daughter off her father’s hands. But at least the plan for a duel was dropped and the two Kings were writing to each other, with the help of their ministers, in civil terms.
George wrote that he would like to see this matter of the marriages settled before he left Hanover; Sophia Dorothea was eager for the completion of what she called the Double Marriage Plan; but the Kings could not agree.
The King of Prussia finally wrote that he would only agree to his son’s marriage to the Princess Amelia if, on that marriage, the Crown Prince of Prussia became the Regent of Hanover.
This George blankly refused; and to the dismay of Sophia Dorothea once more the negotiations came to an end.
There was no longer any excuse for remaining in Hanover. George regretfully had to admit this and Townshend was at his side, urging a return.
‘It grieves me,’ said the King. ‘How beautiful everything is in Hanover ‘
‘Her Majesty the Queen will be eager to have you back,’ Townshend pointed out.
The King’s eyes filled with tears. ‘The dear Queen,’ he said. ‘There is no one who will ever take her place with me, Townshend.’
Townshend bowed his head and knew he had made his point. They would make preparations to return to England without delay.
George presided over his last levee. He wished, he said, that these levees should be held at precisely the same hour every Saturday as they had been during his stay in Hanover. He would not be there, but he would look at his watch and remember that they were assembled in this room. His chair would be empty and they would bow to it as though he occupied it. Only thus could he bear to leave Hanover.
* * *
Caroline was at Kensington Palace awaiting news of the King’s arrival.
She was sorry that he had not stayed a little longer in Hanover. Life had been so peaceful; and she and Walpole had achieved so much. Now the King was on his way home and they would have to be so careful. How easily they had dealt with the tricky Portuguese affair and the even more important Treaty of Seville!
Walpole, who was growing more and more frank, expressed his misgivings because the happy days of the Regency were coming to an end.
She was at the window when she saw the outriders approaching the palace. This must mean that the King could not be far off.
She summoned her family—every one of them, even little Mary and Louisa.
‘Your father is home,’ she said, ‘we are going to meet him.’
‘On foot! cried Anne.
‘Certainly. It is what he would wish.’
She took Frederick’s arm and on the other side walked Anne, her head high so that all would recognize her as the Princess Royal. William, always a little sullen when an occasion such as this one thrust him into second place, walked with his sisters. Through Kensington to Hyde Park, with the people falling in behind them and the cry going up: ‘The King is back.’
When they reached St James’s Park the royal coach was visible and when they reached it, this came to a stop and the King alighted.
He was beaming with joy.
Caroline was thinking how well she knew him. Nothing could have pleased him more than to see his family come on foot to greet him.
He took the Queen in his arms and embraced her warmly, the tears in his eyes. The people cheered wildly.
‘I am happy to be back,’ said the King, ‘because I have missed you so much.’
He spoke in French and Caroline answered unthinkingly in the same language. It was some time later before she realized the significance of this.
Then he kissed all the children in turn and the cheers of the watchers grew more ecstatic.
When the greeting was over, the King took the Queen by the hand and helped her into his coach; the rest of the family used the coaches immediately behind the King’s and so the royal party came to St James’s.
Statesmen Quarrel
THE King had changed since his visit to Hanover. He no longer attempted to speak English on all occasions. He slipped easily into French or German and everyone else had to follow him. This did not inconvenience Caroline, who had always been aware that she spoke English with a German accent, and because Frederick spoke the language so much better than his parents it gave him an advantage. Most of the courtiers spoke French if not German, so the former was the language chiefly used.
But the change was significant. The King, who had once
never let an opportunity pass without declaring his love for England, now never let one pass without expressing his dislike.
‘This is the worst climate in the world,’ he would say whenever the wind blew or the rain fell. ‘How different it is in Hanover!’
Or: ‘These English do not know how to cook. The food in Hanover was delicious. We shall have to bring cooks over to teach them how to cook.’
The gardens of Hampton and Kensington could not compare with those of Herrenhausen; the people in the streets of London were unruly; those in Hanover were well disciplined; in Hanover he had been supreme ruler; here there was always that miserable Parliament.
‘Soon,’ he said, ‘I shall have to pay another visit to Hanover.’
The Queen said that although that would sadden everyone in England she was sure it would please everyone in Hanover.
‘You seem pleased that I should go?’
How careful one had to be I Had her voice carried a lilt because she was thinking of being Regent once more? ‘Your Majesty must surely be joking.’
He grunted, for he could not imagine that she was not delighted to have him back.
He was a good husband. He had spent every night with her since his return. She was a beautiful woman, his Caroline; there were times when he almost wished that a man need not have mistresses to prove his virility. In fact, Caroline pleased him as well as any woman. She always had; she always would, he assured himself. He liked a woman to be plump and Caroline was that. Her bosom was the best in the world—so soft, so ample. Oh, yes, he would be well content to retire to bed with her at precisely the same time every night if he had not felt that his courtiers expected something else of him.
He called on Henrietta Howard as usual—every evening on the stroke of the hour; but he did not go to bed with her. That was a habit he had changed since returning from Hanover. She was getting old and she was deaf, which he found irritating; in fact if she were not such a habit he would cast her off.
