Queen in Waiting: (Georgian Series) (49 page)

She longed to make her own children secure against it but dared not take any risk.

She tried to talk to the Prince about it, but he was not really interested.

‘Imagine,’ she said, ‘the benefit to the nation… if ve could vipe out this terrible scourge.’

‘It vould be goot… very goot…’

He thinks of nothing but his own vanities, she thought a little contemptuously, a little indulgently. Strangely enough as the years passed she was discovering that she would not have had him otherwise.

At the King’s reception one evening she had an opportunity of speaking to the King. George was there. The Duchesses of Kendal and Darlington inevitably in attendance, listening to music while some played cards.

Mary Bellenden was present with her husband and as they came in the Prince scowled at her and shook his finger; then he turned his back. It might have been comic but he was really angry with her for preferring his bedchamber groom to himself. Caroline was glad, though, that he had not dismissed John
Campbell and confined his display of pique to a shake of the finger and a turn of the back.

Caroline took her place next to the King and talked awhile to the Duchess of Kendal who, she secretly thought, grew uglier every day.

Then she broached the subject of inoculation and told the King of Mary Wortley Montagu’s experiences. The Prince scowled when he heard the name of Mary Wortley Montagu because she had attracted him and refused to become his mistress. It was bad enough to have the beautiful Bellenden there with her husband, but to hear Caroline refer to another who had refused him was most irritating. He was surprised that Caroline should be so inconsiderate; she was not usually so. Then he realized that she was on her old hobby horse, inoculation, so he ceased to be interested.

‘If I were sure,’ she was saying to the King. ‘I should like to have the children inoculated.’

George nodded.

‘There would have to be more experiments first. I have talked to Maitland.’

‘Who is this Maitland?’

‘The doctor who inoculated Lady Mary’s son.’

The King nodded.

‘I think we should try these experiments. Suppose we took prisoners from Newgate… those condemned to die in any case. Would Your Majesty agree that might be a good idea?’

The King nodded. ‘It is a good idea,’ he said.

That was all she needed.

The next day she summoned Maitland and the experiment began.

To Caroline’s delight it was entirely successful.

‘But we must be sure,’ she told Maitland, and six charity children were inoculated with equal success.

Caroline summoned Sir Hans Sloane for discussions with Maitland; as he was favourably impressed she allowed Amelia and Caroline to be inoculated.

When this was successful, many hurried to be inoculated. It became the fashion to be so treated.

Caroline was delighted. The battle against the deadly killer had begun.

Little more than a year after the birth of William Augustus, Caroline’s daughter Mary was born. This was great happiness. She now had two healthy children and the fact that the older ones were not entirely hers gave her less anguish. She had a second little family which was a consolation.

Occasionally she was uneasy about her daughters whom she was sure lacked the training she would have given them. Anne was very haughty and she believed very ambitious; Amelia showed signs of beauty and was more amiable than her sister; Caroline, her namesake and favourite, was quiet and delicate, her health a constant source of anxiety. They need their mother, thought the Princess, uneasily and often. But there was nothing more to be done. As for Frederick – little Fritzchen – he was now nearly seventeen, a man who kept a mistress. It was so long since she had seen him, and although she had pined for him in those first years of separation, now she hardly ever gave him a thought.

How grateful she was therefore to have her dear little William Augustus and Mary – her own, entirely her own.

She was able to invite to her court those men of letters who interested her; she was able to read their works and discuss them with their authors. That was a great pleasure. She enjoyed both Pope’s
Iliad
and Defoe’s
Robinson Crusoe,
and when she read
Gulliver’s Travels
with its allusions to the political figures of the day – the Prince not excepted – she declared she must meet the author as soon as he arrived in London.

Life had certainly taken a happier turn.

The King even condescended to tell her of the marriage project which his daughter, Sophia Dorothea, longed to put into practice: her daughter for Frederick, her son for Amelia. She admitted that the crown of Prussia would be a good proposition for Amelia and she had no objection to Frederick’s marrying his cousin.

She thought of Sophia Dorothea, the gay young sister-in-law whom she had known during the first months of her marriage, and who had determined to marry the King of Prussia’s heir…
her own beloved Sophia Charlotte’s son. It had been a strange marriage for the King of Prussia had turned out to be a violent man; but Sophia Dorothea had spirit and in spite of the fact that there was violence between them, they had a lasting affection for each other.

She, Caroline, would, of course, have no say in the marriage of her children; the King would decide and she and George Augustus would accept his decision; but it was pleasant that he should condescend to discuss the matter with her.

She talked to the Prince about the proposal. His face grew purple at the thought of it.

‘This I vill not haf,’ he said. ‘They are mad, that family. Their father is mad. I hate him.’

‘But their mother is your own sister.’

‘Vot is that? She have von husband who is a madman.’

‘His manners are strange, yes…’

‘And this I vill not haf.’

‘If the King decides we must accept.’

‘I vill not. She is my daughter. Frederick is my son. This double vedding I vill not haf. I hate the King of Prussia. Vonce he tried to marry you.’

‘That came to nothing.’

‘How happy I am that it did not.’ His blue eyes filled with tears. ‘Vot should I haf done vithout my Caroline, eh?’

‘Doubtless they vould have found another von for you.’

‘That I vould not haf. It has been a happy marriage. I vould never love another as I love my Caroline.’

She thought of him, waiting outside Henrietta’s apartments watch in hand. She thought of his attempts with Mary Bellenden and Mary Wortley Montagu. They were two unsuccessful ones; there had been many others which had succeeded.

‘They are but mistresses,’ he would say. ‘You are the Princess and my wife.’

He was like a child in so many ways; and the reason why he was so much against the double wedding was because at one time there had been a possibility of the King of Prussia’s being a suitor for Caroline.

The Duchess of Darlington was pensive. She had heard that Wilhelmina, the daughter of the King of Prussia, was a very clever and forceful woman. If she married Frederick he would come to England, for then he could no longer be kept away. Another clever woman at the court! That would be too much. The cleverness of the Princess Caroline was a hindrance to so many of her plans; and although the King was supposed to be on bad terms with the Prince and Princess it was clear that even he was impressed by this cleverness.

No, definitely the Duchess did not want another clever woman at court.

‘I have heard,’ she told the King, ‘that Wilhelmina is so ugly that she is quite frightful to look at; and violent with it – so much so that she has epileptic fits.’

The King was horrified. This was gossip, of course; but very often there was truth in rumour. They wanted no epilepsy in the family.

The Duchess of Kendal had been aloof from the matter until she had been offered money to support the scheme. She rarely interfered with matters of state, knowing she owed her hold on the King to this very quality; but money could tempt her.

She did not try to persuade the King or even show any interest to him. She had become wiser over the years but she did write to the Queen of Prussia telling her of the rumours and suggesting she invite the King to Berlin so that he might see the Princess Wilhelmina for himself and prove them false.

This advice was taken by the Queen and as a result the King decided he would pay another visit to his beloved Hanover and call at Berlin en route.

George arrived in due course at Lützenburg which had been renamed Charlottenburg after Sophia Charlotte, and there was greeted by his daughter and son-in-law.

Almost immediately he wished that he had stayed away. Sophia Dorothea had grown so like her mother that it was a shock to come face to face with her after all this time. However, he was not one to betray his feelings and his dour expression scarcely changed.

Sophia Dorothea was excited; there was so much she wanted to know about George Augustus and Caroline. She had heard such stories of the quarrel and how Caroline had managed to become popular in England. But it was hopeless to expect interesting gossip from her father. All she could do was welcome him as well as she could manage; but even that wasn’t easy for the King of Prussia was miserly in the extreme and grudged spending money on anything but his armies.

What a life I lead! thought Sophia Dorothea and inwardly grimaced; for in fact she did not hate it as much as it might have seemed natural for her to do. Frederick William was so violent at times that she thought he was verging on madness; her son and daughter were terrified of him; and so was she… in a way, a rather exciting fear, like a child who begs for stories of horror even though she knows they will bring nightmares. Oh yes, life was certainly not dull with Frederick William – neither for her nor the children. They were used to their father’s ungovernable rages and the punishment he seemed to enjoy giving them; they thought nothing of it when he kicked them or beat them with his own hands; he liked to lock them in their apartments and starve them and then he would gloat over the amount of money he was saving by not feeding them.

He never attempted to beat her, although at one time he had tried; he contented himself with swearing at her, calling her abusive names and spitting in her food, especially if it was a dish she particularly enjoyed.

She was by no means meek; she would retaliate by telling him he was a brute, that he was a madman and ought to be put into a cage. Then he would laugh and there might follow a reconciliation – on the other hand there might not. One could never be sure with Frederick William. That was the joy of living with him.

What a dull life Caroline and George Augustus must lead! And her mother too… her poor mother to whom she wrote from time to time and had tried to bring out of her prison… what a misery her life was!

No, Sophia Dorothea, oddly enough, regretted nothing and would not have changed her life if she could. Now she assured herself she was about to see realized her most cherished plan:
the Double Wedding; her son married to her brother’s daughter; her brother’s son married to her daughter. What an excellent plan! Her Wilhelmina would be Queen of England and George Augustus’s daughter Queen of Prussia.

Thus, she had promised herself, we keep the crowns in the family.

And her enemies had tried to prevent it by spreading lies about Wilhelmina. Epileptic indeed! They should see her daughter who was clever and good looking enough to please anyone – even the English.

‘Your Majesty will wish to see your granddaughter, I am sure,’ she told her father. ‘She is all eagerness for the honour.’

Wilhelmina stepped forward, and knelt before the King. He saw a tall girl who appeared to be sound, but one could never tell with epilepsy.

He did not smile but merely stared at her.

‘She’s tall,’ he said.

Then his daughter gave him her hand and led him to her apartments whither the King of Prussia and Wilhelmina followed with some of their attendants. No sooner had they reached the apartment than the King demanded a candle and when it was brought to him summoned his granddaughter to stand before. When she did so he held the candle so close to her that she thought he would catch her hair alight, and examined her as though she were a horse or cow.

Wilhelmina felt very agitated and was relieved when her grandfather told her mother that he wished to speak with her alone.

Poor Wilhelmina knew that she was under discussion and felt embarrassed until some of the King’s English suite began to talk to her, although she was sure that they too were trying to put her to the test, but when they told her that she had the manners and bearing of an Englishwoman she smiled wryly knowing they were trying to be complimentary.

She thought her grandfather terrifying. He never smiled; he seemed melancholy; and his only interest in her was whether she would make a suitable wife for his grandson of whom in any case he saw very little. She would be glad when he left; and almost preferred her violent father to this dour man.

That evening there was a banquet to honour the King of England. He was seated beside the Queen who talked to him as though she were not in the least in awe of him. Wilhelmina who now and then stole glances at him noticed that he had his eyes closed.

Lord Townsend was whispering to her. ‘I think His Majesty is unwell. Could you sign to your mother to prepare to leave the table. I am sure the King should be in his bed.’

Wilhelmina rose from her chair and went to her mother and whispered what Lord Townsend had suggested.

The Queen gave her father a startled look and said: ‘I see Your Majesty is a little tired. We will now retire.’

‘I am not tired,’ said the King gruffly. ‘Pray be seated, and go on talking.’

But Sophia Dorothea thought there was something strange about him and insisted that she was now going to give the sign for all to leave the table.

As she spoke she stood up. The King rose too, but even as he stood on his feet, he swayed… and in a few seconds had collapsed on to the floor where he lay unconscious.

There was pandemonium in the hall. The King of Prussia gave orders that cushions should be brought with blankets to cover the King of England who lay still unaware of what was happening.