Nov they were all assembled for the journey to Chelsea. The whole Court knew they were going and it was slyly said that if the King decided to stay in Hanover the Queen might invite Sir Robert Walpole to live permanently at the Palace. Why not—he ruled England—he and the Queen together.
Frederick said little, but he was less contented than he had been. Several of his friends had pointed out that they had never heard of a Prince of Wales being passed over for the sake of his mother. If his father died tomorrow he would be King, but he wasn’t considered worthy to be Regent in his absence!
It was a little strange, thought Frederick. And although he would have hated to be closeted for hours with that crude creature Walpole, poring over dull state papers, he was beginning to believe that he should have been offered the Regency.
It was rather pleasant to have a grievance. People were so sorry for him; they seemed to like him better for it. Moreover, his mother and father showed rather obviously that they didn’t greatly care for him, so why shouldn’t he gain a little popularity at their expense?
He glanced at his sister Anne who immediately scowled. Amelia was indifferent. Caroline might have been more pleasant but he thought her a dull little creature; as for his brother William he wanted to box his ears every time he saw him; and the little girls were nonentities.
He was not really very satisfied with his family.
When they reached Chelsea, Walpole was waiting to greet them.
He behaved as though this was the greatest honour that could befall him, but all his deference was directed towards the Queen; the rest of them were greeted very perfunctorily.
He had invited many guests for this glorious occasion, but the royal family were to dine in a room alone.
This pleased Anne who remarked to Amelia that it was no more than was right. Frederick was less pleased; he could think of much brighter company than that supplied by his own family; in fact he could think of few more dull.
The Queen however was delighted, for Sir Robert himself waited on them. He said it was not only the greatest of honours but the greatest of pleasures.
‘What a respecter of ceremony you are, Sir Robert! ‘ said the Queen with a laugh. ‘I had not expected to stand on such ceremony here in your home.’
‘Madam,’ he said, ‘no matter where, the Queen’s royalty must be maintained.’
How he delighted to serve her; and she delighted to be served!
Afterwards the candles were lighted and there was dancing. The Queen was pleased to look on. It was so comforting to rest her legs. None of the Princesses danced at first. Anne declined for them all for she considered it beneath their dignity; but the Queen implored Sir Robert to dance as she liked to watch the quadrille.
Frederick joined in and Anne scowled at him. How like him to curry favour! Everyone would now be saying that the Prince was more affable than his sisters.
The Queen was smiling and very gay. ‘Dancing becomes Sir Robert,’ she said. ‘How easily he moves! I should not have believed it possible. Ah, and there is Lord Hervey. Lord Hervey,’ she called, and he came and bowed to her.
‘I see you are not dancing, my lord.’ She turned to her daughters. ‘Now there is an excellent dancer. My lord, you should join the dancers.’
‘With Your Majesty’s permission it would give me greater pleasure to remain at your side.’
The Queen looked well pleased. Anne thought: This young man, who can at times look more like a woman than a man, is almost as great a favourite with her as Walpole himself.
‘I shall not give you permission,’ said the Queen. ‘Perhaps one of the Princesses will dance with you.’
Anne turned haughtily away. Amelia had caught sight of the Duke of Grafton. But Caroline had half risen. So Lord Hervey could do no more than beg for the honour.
The Queen sat back in her chair. Such a pleasant day! She was still glowing with pleasure over the successful conclusion of the Spanish Treaty.
Fleetingly she thought of George in Hanover. She had a picture of him caressing some plump beauty, and hoped her charms would be enchanting enough to keep him there a little longer.
A strange thought for a wife to have of her husband, she reminded herself; and then laughed for why should she practise self deception? No good ever came of that.
Meanwhile George was very happy in Hanover. Here he was supreme ruler; and after all this was his native land. He was more of a German than an Englishman—a fact which because the case had been the same with his father he had preferred to forget. But now his father was dead and he could be himself.
Herrenhausen! Home of a hundred delights, with its glorious gardens, its linden avenue, its hornbeam hedges, its lawns and fountains. Here he instituted the same rules as he insisted on in England, but no one laughed at him here. The Germans were so much more serious than the English. One could not imagine them sitting in taverns composing so-called witty verses. No one would laugh if they did. No sly remarks, no disturbing lampoons; only deep respect for their Elector and eagerness to show their pleasure on his return.
Hanover was delightful.
The English in his retinue were a little restive, but much he cared for that! Let them be. They did not like a life that was governed by the clock. They did not appreciate the importance of time.
Another thing, here he spoke German and there could be no tittering about some quaint turn of phrase or the inability to pronounce certain words. It was he who would have the laugh of the English here, if he could be amused by such a triviality, which he could not. It was the English who were always finding something to laugh at and in particular the opportunity to ridicule others.
He never wanted to leave Hanover.
He had two mistresses, because one, in his opinion, was not enough for his prestige, and they were plump, flaxen-haired German women, docile, honoured to be selected, and with a proper understanding of their position in life. He was contented.
Every morning at precisely eleven thirty he would stand waiting for the arrival of those of his retinue who were lodged at the Leine Schloss. His watch in hand he would smile when they arrived exactly on the minute.
They would return to the Leine Schloss later in the day and the process would be repeated at six o’clock. After that there would be the banquet, at which sausages and sauerkraut dominated, to the disgust of the English, and this was followed by cards. But the King would rise at exactly the same minute each night no matter whether the game was finished or not.
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.