‘You think too much, sir,’ said the King, ‘of matters that are not your concern. You have enough to concern yourself with, eh, what? Now go and do it, and understand once and for all. Frederick goes to Germany; and you stay here and there is no commission for you, understand, eh, what?’
The Prince retired; as he came out into the King’s drawing room he kicked a stool across the floor to relieve his feeling.
Bumbling old idiot! he thought. How much longer shall I have to listen humbly to his drivelling nonsense?
Such changes, sighed the Queen, lying in her bed awaiting the birth of her child. Frederick to leave the family circle – and young William too! Frederick for the army and William for the navy. William was very young, but the King had said a little experience of the sea would do him no harm.
And George – dearest and best beloved – to have his own establishment.
How I wish he would come and see me without being asked to. He never did, of course. Perhaps he felt it would not be in accordance with the dignity due to the Queen. Oh, but I am his mother!
It would not be long now before the child was born. She was so accustomed to giving birth that it held few alarms for her. How different that first occasion – that hot August day eighteen years ago when she had prepared herself for her first confinement and prayed for a boy.
And her prayers had been answered – and what a boy she had produced … what a marvel of a boy, although a little wayward! But so handsome! She wished she could show them at home what a wonderful Prince she had given to the nation. They would hear of his exploits of course. The whole world talked of the Prince of Wales. She would never forget the welcome sentence: ‘It’s a boy!’ Nor would she forget how Lord Cantelupe had been so eager to tell the King that the child was safely delivered that he had not waited to ascertain its sex and had told him that it was a girl. Cake and caudle for all visitors to the Palace. And what that had cost – because the visitors had been numerous! No cake and caudle for this one. That was a blessing. After all, this was not the Prince of Wales.
Eighteen years ago; and now he was to have his own establishment. She believed he was very happy about that. Oh dear, she did hope he would not be too wild and quarrel with his father. She was terrified of those occasions when the King was displeased with his children. As she listened to his talk growing faster and faster and sometimes a little incoherent because he did not finish his sentences, that terrible fear came to her. Then she would say: It is because there is still much I have to learn about the English language that I cannot catch what he says.
She could hear Schwellenburg’s guttural accents not far off.
‘Nein, nein. Give to me. Selfs will do it.’
The pains were coming frequently. It would be soon now.
‘I think,’ she said, calmly, ‘the time has come.’
Very shortly afterwards she was delivered of a son.
The baby was christened Alfred by the Archbishop of Canterbury and his sponsors were the Prince of Wales, Prince Frederick and their sister Charlotte, the Princess Royal.
This caused some comment in ecclesiastical circles and the Bishop of Salisbury came to see the King on account of it.
‘Your Majesty,’ he said, ‘the ceremony of the baptism of Prince Alfred has given grave cause for alarm throughout the Church.’
‘What’s that?’ asked the King.
‘Sir, the sponsors of an infant take on a solemn responsibility.’
‘I am well aware of that, my lord Bishop.’
‘And this has been undertaken by people who are scarcely of an age to recognize this. The Prince of Wales himself is but eighteen years of age. His brother and sister younger. I would like Your Majesty to consider authorizing another baptism. Your Majesty could then select persons of a more responsible age.’
The King prided himself on his reasonableness.
‘I understand, my lord Bishop, your point of view. But by the time Prince Alfred is of an age to need the guidance of his sponsors, they themselves will have reached an age to give it.’
‘Sir, I believe you should reconsider this matter.’
‘Thank you, my lord. I believe I have considered it and answered your fears. You have understood, eh, what?’
No one would have dared argue with George I or George II. It was different with George III; although once he had made a decision he could rarely be shifted from it, he was always ready to treat anyone who doubted his wisdom with courtesy.
‘The Prince of Wales,’ he explained, ‘in view of his peculiar position as heir to the throne, is not to be judged by ordinary standards. When in due course he is King of this country he will be the best possible guardian for a brother who is eighteen years his junior. Thank you, my lord Bishop, for raising this point. Now it is explained, eh, what? And you have business to attend to … and so have I.’
With that the Bishop had to be content.
But when the Prince heard an account of the Bishop’s criticism he was annoyed.
‘This is what happens,’ he said. ‘It is because I am treated like a child that people regard me as a child. I, the Prince of Wales, am not considered worthy to be my young brother’s sponsor.’
He could not forget the insult to his dignity; and some days after he had heard of the incident, coming face to face with the Bishop of Salisbury, he stopped him and demanded in a voice which could be heard by all around: ‘Have you heard the news, my lord Bishop?’
‘What news, may it please Your Highness?’ replied the Bishop.
‘My father,’ the Prince told him, ‘has sent to the sponsors of the Bishop of Salisbury to know how they could so egregiously have neglected their duty, as not to have taught their god-child to hold his tongue when it becomes him.’
The Bishop was too disconcerted to reply and the Prince swept on haughtily.
Soon everyone was discussing – and laughing at – the incident.
The Prince of Wales was indeed feeling his independence.
The Prince was biding his time until he could move into his new apartments in Buckingham House. So were others. Meanwhile he had to brace himself for the parting with Frederick and not spend too much time in Cork Street because, until he was free of the Dower Lodge, he was so close to his parents at Kew that his actions would not pass unnoticed by them; it would be different once he was in his own apartments.
After Christmas the time had come for the brothers to say goodbye.
The whole family assembled; the King wept openly and kept murmuring rather incoherent instructions to Frederick as to how he should behave.
The Prince of Wales felt numb. He was surprised that he could shed no tears for never had he felt such sadness.
So close was the bond between them that Frederick understood; in fact he himself felt similarly and could shed no tears.
The brothers gripped each other’s hands and stared wordlessly at each other. There was in any case no need of words.
Then Frederick left for Germany and the Prince of Wales moved to Buckingham House. Only a round of gaiety could help him to overcome his desolation at the loss of his brother.
Riding in the Park he met his uncle, the Duke of Cumberland. As on another occasion Cumberland called to his coachman to stop, alighted and kissed the hand of his nephew.
‘Well met, Your Highness. This is a wonderful moment for me. And now you are indeed a man!’