Caroline the Queen

Frederick’s Homecoming

IT was about seven o’clock in the evening of a dark December day when Frederick arrived by hackney coach like any private visitor at the Palace of St James’s.

He did not look in the least like a frustrated bridegroom. Indeed he was secretly pleased at the way everything had turned out. He had not wanted marriage so much as to bring home to his parents that he would no longer endure their neglect. After all, what had a young man of twenty-one, who was after all Prince of Wales, to fear from his parents?

Riding from Whitechapel he had seen a little of the city, and dark as it was, it had excited him. As he rode he was telling himself, ‘One day I shall rule this land. What have I to fear?’

The coach had drawn up and Colonel Lorne was saying: ‘This is the Friary, Your Highness. I shall now conduct you to the Queen’s backstairs and you can present yourself to her without delay.’

To his mother, he noticed, not to his father. It was true, he supposed, that his mother was the important member of the family.

Colonel Lorne preceded him up the stairs and scratched on a door which was opened by a middle-aged woman whose appearance was charming if not striking.

‘Mrs Howard, the Queen should be informed without delay that the Prince of Wales is here.’

Mrs Howard looked startled; then she saw the Prince and swept him a deep curtsey which Frederick acknowledged with a gracious bow.

Mrs Howard disappeared and came back in a few seconds.

‘If Your Highness will come this way ...’

He followed her into the apartment and there waiting for him was his mother.

For some seconds they looked at each other, neither speaking. It was after all an important moment in their lives. This was the mother who had said such a tearful farewell to him fourteen years ago and had fought so desperately to have him brought to England for a few years—and then appeared to have become resigned to his absence and after that indifferent. This was the son whom she had lost so long ago that she had forgotten him and now saw only as an impostor come to take what she would prefer her darling William to have.

The emotion they felt was smothered in a resentment on both sides.

‘Welcome home, Frederick,’ said Caroline, extending her hand.

‘Thank you ... Mother.’ Frederick took it and kissed it.

There was nothing she could think of to say to him. She felt cold; it was scarcely possible to believe that this was the child she had borne and cherished with such love and devotion. There was no sign of her little Fritzchen in this young man. He was elegant, she noticed; he had gracious manners; and he was very like his father—at least what George Augustus had been at his age. There were the same full pouting lips, the blue eyes that were too prominent, the neat figure, shapely but too small for manliness. She wondered if he was as conscious of his low stature as his father was of his. She hoped not, for that awareness had helped to make George the difficult man he was.

‘You have had a good journey?’

‘Well, scarcely that, Madam. The crossing was bad. I thought we should all be drowned.’

‘It is bad at this time of year.’

She noticed that he spoke English better than she or the King did. His English tutors had done their work well. That would help him to popularity with the people here. He must not, of course, be too popular.

‘You vill vish to meet your brothers and sisters. And the King vill vish to know that you are here. I vill have him told.’

She gave the order to one of her women.

A strange welcome after all those years! thought Frederick. His mother did not altogether surprise him, for he had heard a great deal about her. She was a tall, buxom woman who was still not without beauty and only slightly marked by smallpox. Her hands were beautiful and neck and shoulders magnificent. She was stately and had an air of queenliness. He wished that she had shown more pleasure in his arrival.

But he was determined to enjoy life in England. He was after all Prince of Wales; there would be many to remember that and it was certain to be more exciting here than it had been in Hanover.

The King came into the apartment. Frederick was looking at what could well be himself in twenty or thirty years time.

The blue eyes were less clear, the complexion more ruddy, but there was the Hanoverian jaw, the Hanoverian eyes.

The King noticed that his son was of his own height and was gratified; he disliked men to be taller than he was and he was continually being annoyed to find they were.

Apart from that he was irritated. He did not want his son here—sons meant trouble. He seemed eager to please though. All the more reason to be watchful, he warned himself.

‘So you’ve come home,’ he said gruffly.

‘Yes, Your Majesty.’

‘We had to stop that Berlin nonsense.’

The Prince flushed. ‘I felt I was of a marriageable age, sir.’

The King turned away and said to the Queen: ‘So he’s come home then.’

The Queen smiled as though he had said something very wise.

‘As Your Majesty says, the people vill be interested to see him.’

‘And I to see them ... and this country. I have often thought of it.’

‘You speak good English,’ said the Queen.

The King scowled. Although he was unaware how bad his own accent was he knew that the Prince’s was superior.

‘Not like a German at all,’ went on the Queen with a smile.

‘It is not a bad thing to be a German,’ said the King. ‘It is a good thing,’ answered the Queen quickly.

‘It is von very good thing.’

The Prince was bewildered, reading something beneath the surface of the conversation. It seemed as though the Queen were very much in awe of his father, which was contrary to the reports he had heard. He had expected to find her in command. Perhaps the rumours which had come to Hanover were not true. His mother seemed afraid of his father; and his father was a testy little man who was not going to pretend he was glad to see his firstborn.

A strange homecoming!

Frederick was glad when the rest of the family arrived in his mother’s apartments to meet him.

It was rather exciting suddenly to find oneself a member of a large family,

They were presented to him in order of age. Anne first, haughty, not very attractive, being short like her father and plump like her mother. She looked with disdain at this new brother when she was presented as though she would have preferred him to stay in Hanover.

‘I remember you well,’ he told her pleasantly.

‘I don’t remember you.’

‘You were after all two years younger.’

She resented that; if he had not been born, if she had had no brothers, she would have been the heir to the throne. A second Queen Anne! She could never forget it; it rankled and festered because what she longed to be more than anything was a queen. And this young man—as well as spoilt William—stood in her way.

‘Well, you’re here now. I was in the middle of a singing lesson when I was summoned.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Mr Handel is my professor. I believe him to be possessed of genius.’

‘That must be very pleasant.’

She looked at him scornfully, but Amelia was now waiting to be presented.

Amelia was decidedly prettier than Anne and more pleasant. She whispered to her brother that she had been very interested in his plans to marry their cousin, particularly as, he knew, she might well be betrothed to Wilhelmina’s brother. Poor Amelia! he thought. How would she fare at the Court of Prussia? Would the madman of a king dare to treat her as he treated poor Wilhelmina and Fritz?

‘I should not care too much that the marriage is delayed,’ he told her. ‘One day I will have a great deal to tell you of the Court of Berlin.’

Then there was Caroline—delicate and gentle, eager to make up by her welcome for the lack of warmth in that of the others. He thought Caroline might be his favourite sister.

The other little girls were too young to impress him much; but they seemed pretty little creatures. His only brother, William, Duke of Cumberland, took an immediate dislike to him, and he to William.

‘So you’re our German brother,’ said the arrogant boy.

‘I’m as English as you are,’ Frederick reminded him.

‘What! You have lived all your life in Germany. I have never been there.’

‘It is an omission you will probably rectify when you are old enough.’

Frederick turned away from the boy and spoke to Caroline.

He was thinking what a strange homecoming this was. This gentle girl seemed the only member of the family who was glad he had come.

The King and Queen decided that the Prince of Wales should slip quietly into his place at Court. There should be no fanfares of welcome, no fêtes to celebrate his arrival.

George somewhat grudgingly admitted him to the Privy Council where he was formally created Prince of Wales. It disturbed him to see that his son was an immediate success. His youth, his good manners, and his ability to speak the language with scarcely a trace of German accent was applauded. It was his own family who behaved ungraciously to him.

The two chief offenders were Anne and William. Anne was his enemy from the first largely because she resented his sex and his being her senior. The older she grew the more fearful she was of not finding a suitable husband and nothing less than a prince would satisfy her; if she could become a queen she would be slightly reconciled to being excluded from the Crown of England. Therefore the return of this elder brother was particularly galling to her. William sulkily showed his resentment. He had been treated as the only son; all the privileges which came to the male of the family had been his; and now to have a brother thrust upon him and an elder brother, was insupportable. He made no effort to hide his resentment.

It flared up on the first occasion the whole family went to church and William, according to his custom since he had been able to walk, prepared to lead his mother to her place.

‘My dear William,’ she whispered, ‘this will be your brother’s duty now.’

William’s face was purple with rage.

‘Why should it be?’ he demanded. ‘He’s a German. I am an English. I won’t stand aside for this German.’

‘You will stand aside for the Prince of Wales,’ his mother told him.

So Frederick led her to her place and his young brother William hated him fiercely and wished he had stayed in Hanover.

Anne, watching the incident, shared her young brother’s hatred.

It’s not fair, she thought. He’s weak. That’s obvious. He’ll be lead anywhere. And he is the Prince of Wales whereas I, because I’m a year or so younger, and a woman, can never be Queen of England because of him! I’ll have to go away from home to marry some prince.

She shivered; not at the fear of leaving home, but that a prince might not be found for her.

Frederick did not brood on his lukewarm reception. He found his new country exceedingly exciting. It was entirely different from Hanover. The streets were full of gaiety, noise, and colour; he liked to ride through them for sometimes he would be recognized and a shout would go up of ‘Long Live the Prince of Wales’.

These garrulous inquisitive people had already sensed the royal family’s resentment towards the eldest son and immediately ranged themselves on the Prince’s side. Ever since the old King had died, and before that, they had been asking why the Prince was not in England; now they were delighted to see him; he was a pleasant-looking, pleasant-mannered young man, fresh-skinned and charmingly affable, speaking their language with scarcely any trace of a German accent.

London seemed full of adventure and excitement. Gay’s Beggar’s Opera was drawing crowds to the theatre and there was a great deal of controversy over this piece because many declared that MacHeath the highwayman was meant to be a sly portrait of Walpole and Peacham of Townshend. That this could happen was enlightening to the Prince. It never could have been so in Hanover where the Elector was all powerful. It was amusing to see how the English treated their kings, how they made ballads about them, did not hesitate to shout abuse at them, expressing their disapproval of any act which offended them.

Therefore their welcome to him was doubly appreciated. The cheers which came his way were genuine. No one cheered in London unless he or she wanted to. So when he went sightseeing and his carriage was brought to a standstill by the crowds who wanted to have a look at him, he no longer felt neglected.

It would be well, the Queen hinted to the King, if the Prince was seen more in public with his family. Walpole had pointed out to her that rumours were going round that the Prince was not being fairly treated and if they were not careful there would be a split in the family as there had been in the previous reign. She would well remember how disastrous that had been.

A visit to the theatre was arranged and the entire family with the exception of Mary and Louisa, went to see Henry VIII.

It was a glittering occasion with the King and Queen, their three daughters and two sons; and the theatre was crowded, not so much for the sake of the play, but because so many wanted to see them.

George had Frederick on his right hand, in between himself and the Queen—much to the chagrin of William who had been accustomed to take that place; and as the party came into the royal box everyone in the theatre rose to cheer them.

But the name which they shouted louder than the rest and more repeatedly was that of the Prince.

And there was Frederick bowing, smiling, acknowledging the greeting, taking it all as a tribute to himself—which it was.

The Queen was uneasily watching the King, whose jaw grew more sullen with every passing cheer.

The question of Frederick’s allowance came up for discussion. When he was Prince of Wales George had had an income of £100,000 a year and had found it inadequate, but it was absurd he said, that Frederick should have the same. When he, George, had been Prince of Wales he had had a family. £34,000 was ample for Frederick. It was true that that extra hundred thousand had been added to the Civil List, but he could use what was left over after paying Frederick.

‘I have much to do vith my money,’ declared the King. ‘It shall not be vasted by frivolous puppies.’

The Prince should have his own household officers, but no establishment of his own. He could share his sisters’ table.

‘He is von young man,’ said the King, ‘and new to England. Later ye shall see.’

The Prince was as yet too much engaged with discovering the pleasure of his new country to worry much about such details.

He enjoyed his popularity; he was seeking friends from those who flocked about him; he gave a ball on the island in St James’s Park and it was a great success. People found him charming and—unlike his father—good tempered. He arranged that a play should be acted in the gardens at Richmond. This was called Hob in the Gardens and was yet another triumph. Everyone congratulated the Prince on arranging it, and even his mother and sister Anne enjoyed it.

He revelled in such entertainments and seemed very pleased with his new life; but the enemies of the Queen and Walpole were watching him closely. They thought that in time he might be a willing tool in their hands; and since his family made no great effort to hide the fact that they resented his coming to England, the novelty would soon begin to fade. Then it might be possible to start another Hanoverian family feud—always so useful to the enemies of the German line.

The King had been thinking more and more of Hanover. It was nearly fifteen years since he had left and looking back over those years Herrenhausen, the Leine Schloss, and the Alte Palais seemed enchanting fairy palaces compared with St James’s, and even Richmond and Kensington. Not so grand of course, but grandeur was not everything.

He did not like governing through a parliament. In Hanover his father had been the supreme ruler. Here the elected members of their parliament could prevent a King’s having his own way.

Pooh and stuff! thought the King. That’s no way to rule. Better to be a real king of a small state than a titular one of a big country.

When it rained or the wind blew he would complain of the English climate.

‘Do you remember those varm sunny days in the gardens of Herrenhausen?’ he would ask the Queen.

She did remember. She also remembered delightful sunny days at Richmond, Hampton, and Kensington; and she doubted that there would be much sun in Hanover at this time of the year. But always being one step ahead of the King she guessed that he was thinking of paying a visit to Hanover.

This would not displease her, unless of course he wanted her to accompany him. That was hardly likely. Her duty would be to stay at home. Someone would have to govern in his absence. The Prince of Wales? It should be so traditionally, but how could a young man so recently come to England take over the task?

She was excited at the prospect of herself being appointed Regent. It would be comforting not to have to work on the King in order to force her—and Walpole’s—ideas upon him and let them simmer in his mind until he thought they were his own.

And surely she would be appointed Regent. The King would never consent to allowing the Prince of Wales to take on that important role.

She encouraged him in his love of Hanover; she would recall to him pleasant occasions. The days, for instance, when she had first come there; their marriage; how he had shown her the beauties of the place.

He would sit listening with the tears in his eyes.

When Walpole visited her in her closet the Queen whispered to him that the King was talking more and more fondly of Hanover.

Walpole smiled slyly. ‘I have often heard him say that England was his country, that he never wanted to leave England, that if any man wanted to find favour with him he must call him an Englishman.’

The Queen smiled almost fondly. ‘That was in the days ven his father was alive. He loved England because his father hated it. If his father had loved England he vould have hated it.’

Walpole nodded. ‘And now he is falling in love with Hanover. England displeases him. He has to keep in step with his Parliament. His son is becoming very popular with the people. I can see why he is falling out of love with England.’

‘I think he is planning a visit to Hanover.’

‘And why not? He should visit his Electorate now and again. He could appoint a Regency.’

‘A ... a Regency. And that would be ...’

‘Madam, there is only one Regent under whom I could serve.’

‘The Prince of Wales is too young, too inexperienced, too recently come to this country.’

‘I should certainly not serve under His Highness. I was referring to Your Majesty. The only possible Regent.’ ‘You think the King vould agree?’

‘The King must be made to agree, Madam.’

After that there was every incentive to persuade the King how enjoyable—and necessary a visit to Hanover would be.

The Parliament was not pleased; the people were not pleased. It was hoped that the new King was not going to follow the old one’s example of taking frequent trips to Hanover. It was for the King of England to forget his minor possessions and concentrate on English affairs.

‘The devil take England,’ said George to Caroline. The devil take Parliament. I to Hanover vill go.’

She agreed with him that he should go. Hanover needed him. It was long since he had been there and he would not want to forget that he was the Elector as well as King of England.

He let himself be persuaded.

‘And Frederick?’ he asked. ‘Vot of that boy? I vill not take him vith me.’

‘You may safely leave him here. You know you can trust me to keep an eye on him.’

‘They vill say he vill be Regent.’

‘Valpole vill not agree to that.’

The King smiled. In the last year he had become reconciled to that fat ox. He thought that the minister always agreed with him and never saw that between them Walpole and the Queen arranged that he should agree with them. Yet George was shrewd enough to see that the country was steadier than it had been for some time; and although he thought this was due to his wise rule, he admitted to himself that he could not have managed so successfully without a reasonable chief minister. So he, like the Queen, was growing fonder of Walpole.

‘There is von only who shall be the Regent,’ said the King. He took Caroline’s hand and kissed it. ‘Who vould I trust but my dear Caroline.’ His eyes filled with tears so he did not see the triumph in hers. ‘You have been von goot vife to me, Caroline. I shall never forget.’

‘I think I am the luckiest voman in the vorld,’ she answered.

Such conversations were a delight to him; he often indulged in them when they were alone, but in company he still snubbed her and ridiculed her, because he continued to smart under the implications in that unfortunate rhyme.

A respite, the Queen was thinking. She would not have to placate him, not have to be humiliated before people; she would be able to rest now and then when she was fatigued; she would not have to walk in the park with him when her legs were swollen. She would enjoy many a delightful tête-à-tête with Walpole. They would decide policy together and not have to spend so much time planning how they should deal with the King.

But she must not show her pleasure; she must be resigned to his departure while at the same time assuring him that he could trust her to do exactly as he would during his absence.

The weather was clement for May had come; and George set sail for Hanover.

In Kensington Palace Caroline held her first Council meeting.

The Commission of Regency was read and all present came to her for the honour of kissing her hand and swearing loyalty.

The first was the Prince of Wales.

His manner several noticed was a little sullen. Was he at last beginning to be a little resentful? Was he asking himself why he, being of age and being the Prince of Wales, was denied the office of Regency during his father’s absence?

There were three men who were aware of the effect the Queen’s Regency was having on the Prince of Wales. These were Viscount Bolingbroke, William Pulteney, and William Wyndham. They were the most formidable members of the Opposition and Walpole had long considered them his greatest menace.

They met soon after the King’s departure from England and Bolingbroke, the leader of the group, talked freely of the Prince of Wales.

‘He is beginning to be piqued,’ he said. ‘Soon he will be angry. Then will come our chance.’

‘Do you think,’ asked Wyndham, ‘that we might attempt to whip up his anger a little? After all he is Prince of Wales and it is natural for a Prince of Wales to be Regent in the absence of his father.’

‘Wait a while,’ said Pulteney. ‘It may be that the time is not yet ripe. He has been here such a short while and he may believe that just now he is not in a position to be the Regent.’

Bolingbroke put in: ‘Yes, I think perhaps we should wait a while.’

His companions were a little startled, for Bolingbroke was by nature an impulsive man.

‘In a short time,’ continued Bolingbroke, ‘he will become very exasperated. Then he will be of more use to us. It is worth while to wait for a time ... But we will continue to keep a close watch.’

The others agreed and during the months that followed they watched everything that happened to the Prince of Wales; they were waiting their time when they would approach him, let him know how badly he was being treated, and so make him the figurehead of the Opposition —not only to Walpole’s Ministry but to the King and Queen.