The Third George

Domesticity at Kew

George had made up his mind to be a king and those about him had to learn to accept this fact.

The Princess Dowager had reluctantly released her hold on him, although she still refused to believe that she had lost her influence over him entirely.

She had thought it would be enough that Charlotte should be prevented from usurping her place; this had been easy to achieve for Charlotte's ability to furnish the royal nurseries was really phenomenal. It seemed that no sooner had she been delivered of one child than another was on the way. After Charlotte Augusta Matilda, Edward had followed; and almost immediately she was pregnant again. Nor did she seem to suffer from this continual childbearing; in fact she seemed to thrive on it.

"She was intended for it," said the Princess Dowager to Lord Bute when he called on her.

"And I will grant her this; she does it with remarkable speed and efficiency.”

It was pleasant to reflect, was Lord Bute's comment, that the Queen could please the Princess Dowager in some respects.

"Oh, yes," said the Princess. "She is adequate. And as long as she does not attempt to meddle in politics I have no complaint to make.”

She smiled benignly. She still doted on this man. He was as a husband to her and she was a woman who needed a husband. She was not promiscuous; she was not sensuous; but she needed the companionship, the at-oneness which was only to be found in a devoted husband; and Lord Bute had provided that, more so than her real husband the Prince of Wales had ever done; although she had had nothing to complain of in Frederick.

She had taken Miss Vansittart into her household recently, and the young woman had made herself very useful in the rather delicate matter of selling honours. She was a most discreet young woman; and the Princess Dowager needed the little money these sales brought in and could not of course be concerned in the sordid business of selling.

Since Miss Vansittart was a friend of Lord Bute's she knew she could absolutely rely on her. And if Lord Bute did visit her regularly, they never betrayed in her presence that there was anything between them but the most platonic friendship. She loved Lord Bute with a wifely devotion; they had been together now for many years and she regarded their union as a true marriage. Recently, however, she had been feeling a painful restriction in her throat which had alarmed her. She had said nothing of it, for she wanted no doctors telling her some unpleasant truth. The trouble would occur and then subside; but she was constantly aware of it; and she had uneasy suspicions, having heard of such symptoms before.

If she were going to die, oh not yet, but perhaps in a year or so she would like to know that Lord Bute would have someone to comfort him; and nice, discreet, quiet Miss Vansittart would be the very one. So, far from discouraging that friendship, she kept Miss Vansittart beside her. Her love for this man, who had dominated her thoughts for so many years, was too deep, too abiding to be selfish. In the meantime no one not even Lord Bute must guess of this thing which was there in her throat and which she fancied became a little more painful every time she was made aware of it.

George was impressing his personality on the Court which many declared was dull, dreary, unimaginative and completely devoid of the trappings of royalty. There was nothing royal neither about George nor about Charlotte. George might have been a farmer, for he had a great interest in agriculture; Charlotte might have been any squire's lady sitting there in her country house breeding. There was another characteristic which was beginning to be noticed and which was considered unkingly: the King was constantly concerning himself over trifling sums of money; he wanted to know the cost of things and would often shake his head and say this and that was too costly. They must economize. Although there had been many complaints of extravagance in kings in the past, George's carefulness was even more deplored. As for Charlotte, she was, said her ladies-in-waiting, becoming downright mean.

In fact Charlotte was constantly being asked to help her family in Mecklenburg. She had become the great Queen of England and it was imagined that she lived a life very different from that which she had known in humble Mecklenburg. This was true; and Charlotte was pleased that her family should be aware of this. She asked the King's advice and he most beneficently came to her family's assistance. Her eldest brother was given a pension; another brother was made Governor of Celle and another given a rewarding post in the Hanoverian Army. Charlotte was not considered mean by her family; but in her own apartments - where she followed the King's habit of scrutinizing accounts - she was certainly considered parsimonious, a trait even more unpopular in royal people than in commoners.

George had decided to bring a more religious way of life back to his people. "I wish every child in my Dominions to be able to read his Bible," he declared; and very soon he was expressing a desire that the Sabbath Day be kept holy; that there should be no entertainments on Sunday and that throughout the country there should be Sabbath Day Observance.

This desire in him was intensified when he thought of scandals which surrounded his family. His brother Edward, with whom he had been so close during his youth, had died a year or so ago, but not before he had shocked George by his wild life; his two brothers William of Gloucester and Henry, who had become Duke of Cumberland since the death of the Victor of Culloden, were continuously causing scandal through their relationships with women; his mother's liaison with Lord Bute was still talked of on the streets; lewd songs were sung about Bute's prowess in bed and the Princess Dowager's dependence on him. Jackboot and Petticoat remained a well-known insult.

"It is necessary," said the King to Charlotte on those rare occasions when he talked to her of anything apart from the weather and children, 'that our lives are exemplary. We must show them, eh? You see that, Charlotte. What? You see we must be beyond reproach, eh?”

Charlotte did see; and she pointed out that with her constant childbearing it was hardly likely that she could be anything else. George replied that he had his duties as she had. But although he was determined to live a completely virtuous life he could not help his heart beating a little faster every time he saw a pretty woman.

He was disturbed when he heard that Sarah Lennox had given birth to a daughter who, it was said, was not her husband's, but that Sarah's cousin Lord William Gordon was the father.

"Shocking! Shocking!" said the King and thought wistfully of Sarah, adding to himself: "Lucky escape. I was well rid of that one.”

But that did not prevent his thinking of her. However virtuous a man was, and intended to continue to be, he could not help erotic images coming into his mind, much as he tried to suppress them. Then there was Elizabeth, Lady Pembroke, whom he had always admired. A beautiful woman, this Elizabeth, and not very happily married either. The Earl had eloped with a Miss Kitty Hunter some years before; George had been very sympathetic and had done his best to comfort Elizabeth, often holding her hand while he told her that if her husband failed to appreciate her, he, George, thought her one of the loveliest women he had ever seen. Elizabeth was grateful to him and if George had been slightly less virtuous he might have been her lover. But the Earl had returned and the marriage had been patched up. Yet he often dreamed of Elizabeth Pembroke.

There was Bridget, Lord Northington's eldest daughter, a charming girl. He had been rather fond of her too. Charlotte was, he admitted in his franker moments, so very plain and unexciting. But he must remember that it was the duty of the King to set an example to his people; so he diverted these desires for beautiful women into stricter controls for his own household. He himself saw that the Sunday Observance was kept, and that gambling stakes were not too high. It was soon being said that he was a petty tyrant in his household obsessed by the need to live virtuously and force others to do the same.

He was beset by political anxieties. He had suffered great disappointment over Chatham whom he had thought would take the helm as he had in his grandfather's day and guide them to prosperity.

But Chatham was not the same man that William Pitt had been. His title was like a cloak which suffocated his brilliance. He had lost the confidence of the people, and his infirmity had taken possession of him.

He kept to his house in Bond Street and lay in a darkened room cursing the gout which had laid him low; overcome by melancholia. He knew that, in his present condition, even if he could hobble to the House his mind would not be sufficiently alert to grapple with the problems of state.

George, up to this time, had a pathetic belief in Chatham. If Chatham would be the man he had once been, the country's affairs would be straightened out and all would go smoothly. But Lady Chatham was constantly writing to the King telling him that if only her husband's health matched his devotion to His Majesty and his zeal to serve him, Lord Chatham would be waiting on the King at this time.

Meanwhile there was trouble with the American Colonies who so bitterly resented interference from St. James's and were declaring that they could not and would not submit to taxation imposed by the British Government. England needed a Pitt at this time and Pitt had turned into Lord Chatham and lay writhing on his bed.

All during the summer Chatham saw no one. Whenever any of his colleagues in the Government called, Lady Chatham assured them that her husband was too ill to be seen. There were rumours as to his reasons for hiding himself away. Had he quarrelled with the King? Had he gone mad?

Grafton sought to control the party and failed. Chatham's policy of removing taxation from the American Colonies and establishing harmonious relations was overthrown and Townsend the Chancellor of the Exchequer imposed those taxes. In his dark room Chatham lay a physical and mental wreck while his wife sought to keep this fact a secret from the world. In his lucid moments Chatham wished above all things to resign and wrote to the King telling him so, but George would not let him go.

"Your name has been sufficient to enable my administration to proceed," he wrote. He was determined that ill as he was Chatham should remain ostensibly head of the Government.

But this could not continue; and some two years after he had taken office Chatham insisted on retiring and delivered up the Seal. The King was so worried on receipt of this that he paced up and down his apartment for hours. The name of Pitt had been a magic one to him and he clung to the belief that while that man was head of the Government all would be well.

He was extremely anxious to settle this niggling business of the Colonists and he was sure that Pitt could have done it and that he was the only man who could. But Chatham's resignation must perforce be accepted and Frederick second Earl of North became Leader of the House.

North was an old friend of George's. He had played with him in the nursery when North's father had been appointed his governor. George remembered Frederick North's playing in Addison's Cato when they had been very young and amateur theatricals had amused them so much. George had been Portius and his sister Augusta, Marcia. It all came back so clearly; and it was pleasant to talk over those days with Frederick who had grown into a witty man. He was very good tempered too, as well as being very like George to look at; in fact when they had been young they could have been brothers. The Prince of Wales, when they were boys, had said that the likeness was suspicious and joked with North's father that one of their wives must have played them false. The likeness was still undoubtedly remarkable; and not only that North could be as obstinate as George himself, another trait they had in common.

He had the same prominent eyes which in his case were extremely short-sighted; he had a wide mouth and thick lips and with his plump cheeks and his eyes which rolled about 'to no purpose' commented Walpole, he looked (Walpole again) like a blind trumpeter. But George did not agree with these unkind observations. He saw Frederick North as his childhood friend, so like him in many ways that the friendship could comfortably continue. If he could not have Chatham, North would do very well.

George was preparing to receive Christian VII of Denmark and Norway, husband of Caroline Matilda. The Princess Dowager was delighted that her son-in-law was coming to England, but deplored the fact that he was not bringing Caroline Matilda with him. She was with Lord Bute discussing this when news was brought to her that the King was descending from his coach to call on her.

"Oh, my dearest," she cried, 'he had better not find you here.”

They embraced and parted and she watched her lover disappear through the door which led to the secret staircase by which he would reach the street.

"So different," she sighed, 'from the old days, when we were all together, the three of us. I can't think what has happened to George lately. Being king has gone to his head and he's surrounded by the wrong people and we shall have trouble." She touched her throat and the thought came to her then that she might not be here to see it.

George came in and greeted her as affectionately as ever. However much he tried to escape from her influence she was still his mother and he was too sentimental to forget that.

"My dearest son. How good it is to see you!”

"You are looking a little tired, Mother.”

"Nonsense. It's the light. I am very much looking forward to Christian's visit.”

"That is what I came to talk to you about. How strange that he should not be bringing Caroline Matilda with him. After all, it is Caroline Matilda we are really eager to see.”

The Princess smiled. George was such a family man. She was pleased about that at least.

"I have heard strange rumours from Frederiksberg.”

George nodded. "You think Caroline Matilda is unhappy?”

"Perhaps we shall be able to talk to Christian.”

"Do you think he will listen?”

"He should listen to his mother-in-law if he has any courtesy.”

"I wonder whether he has.”

The Princess Dowager sighed. Neither of her daughters had done very well. Poor Augusta merely Duchess of Brunswick and living in that hateful town in a poor sort of wooden house while her husband's mistress flaunted her position under her nose. A fine comedown for proud Augusta!

What had become of her sharp tongue? Was it any use to her in coping with this most indelicate situation which her boot of a husband insisted she accept? Well she had her daughter now, little Caroline Amelia Elizabeth, and the child must be a comfort to her, although naturally she would have preferred to have a son. But what that child would grow up like in such a court was beyond the Princess Dowager's divination. As for Caroline Matilda, her position was as bad, for quite clearly Christian did not have much affection for her otherwise would he be travelling without her?

"He seems to be a weak-willed young man from what I hear," said the Princess Dowager. "I do wish he was bringing your sister so that I could hear from her own lips what is happening over there.”

"I fear you would not be comforted. What?”

"Oh, you mean Christian's step-brother. There's no doubt that his mother will be wishing to see him inherit.”

George nodded grimly. He felt so responsible for his sister's welfare and he had often wished that they had not hurried Caroline Matilda into marriage. Fifteen was so young; and he liked to have as many members of his family around him as possible. Continually shocked as he was at the wild life his brothers indulged in, he would particularly have enjoyed having a young sister, whom he could advise and on whom he could dote.

But poor little Caroline Matilda had been sent far from home to a young bridegroom a weak, dissolute young man, more interested in some of his male attendants than in his young bride, and in the strange land she was confronted by this unfortunate scene. And there was a stepmother-in- law with a son whom naturally she would wish to inherit.

"Poor little Caroline Matilda," mused George. "I wonder if I shall be able to talk to Christian.”

George was obtuse, thought his mother. Did he really believe that this little pervert would listen to him just because he was King of England!

"I have heard that Christian has taken Count von Hoick as his favourite now.”

George flushed and looked shocked.

"It's all so unpleasant. What? But Caroline Matilda has her son, little Frederick, so ...”

"So," said the Princess Dowager grimly, 'our dissolute Christian is at least capable of begetting a child.”

"I really find this so distasteful, I find it most distasteful," said George. "I shall do my best to make this known to Christian.”

But when Christian arrived George saw how impossible it was to make any impression on the young man. He sent for Lord Weymouth and asked him to consult the Danish ambassador as to what would best please the young King and to ask for ideas on how to entertain him. When Weymouth returned to George he said he had had a very direct answer.

"The way to entertain the King of Denmark is to amuse him," was the answer. "And the wilder and more perverted the entertainment the more he will be amused.”

"This is most unpleasant, eh? What?" said the King; and Weymouth agreed that it was.

It was impossible for George to feel any affection for his brother-in-law. The very sight of the young man disgusted him. If he had seen him before the marriage he would never have agreed to it, but Caroline Matilda had been married by proxy. There was no doubt of his character. He was not only perverted, he was depraved; and it seemed to be having its effect on his wits.

He was surrounded by courtiers whose main duty it was to praise and glorify him; and the visit depressed George, particularly when he learned that Christian spent his time in the brothels of London in which all kinds of unnatural spectacles had been arranged for his entertainment.

George decided that he would no longer attempt to entertain his brother-in-law, so he went down to Kew to be with Charlotte and the children for a while.

"I cannot help reminding myself how fortunate we are, eh? When I think of what a life my poor sister is leading in Denmark ... and Augusta is not much better off in Brunswick. We have been lucky, eh? What?”

Charlotte agreed that they had. She was pregnant again, and that year gave birth to her second daughter; she called her Augusta Sophia. She now had six children after seven years of marriage.

It was pleasant to see the nurseries so full; but she was beginning to feel that she would like a little respite, if only for a few years.

Meanwhile that inveterate troublemaker, John Wilkes, was getting a little bored with exile and was thinking nostalgically of home. When he had arrived he had found it most diverting to be welcomed as he was by the literary world of Paris. In the Hotel de Saxe he had held his little court and later, when he took up residence in Rue St. Nicaise, he had that exciting and much-sought- after courtesan Corradini to live with him and share his exile. This he had found very much to his taste, and after a short residence in Paris they had travelled together to Rome and Naples, and it was in the latter city that he met his fellow countryman James Boswell and they, finding they possessed similar tastes, mostly for women and literature, greatly enjoyed each other's companionship.

Wilkes had then intended to write a History of England but when Corradini left him for another lover he lost interest in the project and returned to Paris to look at a lodging in the Rue des Saints Peres. Homesickness became more acute; if he had been able to make money with his literary efforts it would have been different; and so would it have been if Corradini had not deserted him.

These two factors together made him decide that he did not wish to live among the French. He was pining for the streets of London, for the coffee and chocolate houses, for the taverns and his literary friends; he wanted to be in the thick of the fight, to live dangerously, to send out his scandal sheets and await the consequences. And he wanted money. There was his beloved daughter Mary to educate. She was the only person in the world he cared about and he wanted to give her all that he believed her worthy of, which was a good deal.

Grimly he walked the streets of Paris and dreamed of London. His ugly face had ceased to be comical; it was only melancholy, and that made his squint look more alarming and not mischievous at all, only sinister.

"I must get back," he told himself. "I'll die of melancholy here.”

He waited avidly for news from London. Pitt was back ... Chatham now. Oh, fool of a man to think the title of Earl could give him a greater name than Pitt. And Grafton was with him. Now there was a man who might give him a helping hand. He didn't trust Chatham who had washed his hands of him when he was in trouble; Wilkes was not going to ask favours of that man. But Grafton was a different matter. Grafton might do something.

He returned to London and there wrote to Grafton, who immediately went to see Chatham. This happened before Chatham had shut himself away and was suffering from that mysterious illness which robbed him of his mental powers; and Chatham's advice to Grafton was not to become involved with Mr. Wilkes. So, dispirited, Wilkes returned to Paris, but within a year he was back again in London and rented a house at the corner of Princes Court in Westminster.

George was disturbed when he received a letter from John Wilkes. The King was at Buckingham House which he enjoyed very much when he could not get to Kew or Richmond. But when Wilkes's servant arrived with the letter the peace of Buckingham House was definitely disturbed.

"What does this man want, eh?" George demanded of himself. "Trouble, eh? What? Here he comes after making a nuisance of himself ... Ought to have stayed in France. Better go back as soon as possible.”

And he was petitioning for a pardon, was he? And after that he'd be wanting compensation!

Wilkes might want to be in London, but London did not want him at least the King didn't and there must be a good many of his ministers who didn't either. George burned the letter and tried to forget the troublesome fellow. As if Wilkes was the kind to allow himself to be forgotten! He kept quiet until the next general election and then he suddenly appeared at the hustings, asking the people of London to elect him to represent them. He failed with London but he did succeed in getting in at Middlesex.

Now the trouble started. The new member for Middlesex was an outlaw; he had been sentenced to exile; he had returned to England without permission; but nobly he surrendered himself to the King's Bench and was committed to prison. Crowds gathered in the streets to see him taken there.

He was in his element, the centre of attraction once more, Wilkes, with his wicked-looking face, his sinister squint and his cries of freedom.

"Such men," said the King, 'could destroy the peace of nations." The City was in a turmoil. People paraded the streets shouting: "Free Wilkes. Wilkes for Liberty." They would have rescued him and freed him on his way to prison but he had no desire to be freed. He wished to go to prison for he realized that while he was there he would hold the sympathy of the people; he would be Wilkes, imprisoned for speaking his mind.

His prison was in St. George's Fields and for days crowds accumulated there to talk of Wilkes and demand his release; the great topic of conversation through the city was John Wilkes. It was necessary to call out the troops to disperse the mob and, when he heard this, Wilkes chuckled with delight, for nothing could have pleased him better.

When, after a month in prison, he was sentenced to a year and ten months' imprisonment, a fine was imposed and he appealed against this in both the Commons and the Lords.

Wilkes! Wilkes! Wilkes! He dominated the scene. Everyone was discussing the rights and wrongs of his case. The great battle took place in print. There were articles written under the pseudonym of Junius in a periodical supported by the Whigs, while Dr. Samuel Johnson made somewhat dull apologies for the Government.

It was Wilkes who was emerging from the conflict as the victor and when he brought a case against Lord Halifax he won and received heavy damages. Thus when he had gone to prison he had been penniless, but he emerged comfortably off.

The King was deeply concerned by almost everything around him. Nothing was as he had believed it was going to be. He had wanted to be the good King surrounded by contented subjects; and during this weary year there had been not only trouble with his ministers and the Wilkes controversy, but every month the situation between England and the American Colonies was growing more and more tense.

Even at Kew, George could not escape from Wilkes. It was not that he discussed the man with Charlotte. At Kew life went on as he had decided it should, completely shut away from the outside world. The Queen was naturally pregnant, and next spring would give birth to her seventh child, and as she was still in her early twenties it seemed hardly likely that she would stop at seven.

The Prince of Wales was now seven years old, bright and more precocious than ever; he was always listening to gossip and repeating it to his parents to show them that he was well in the swim of affairs. He bullied and at best patronized his younger brothers and was indeed the little King of the nursery. He never failed to remind anyone who dared to reprimand him that after all he was the Prince of Wales; but his handsome looks, his bright intelligence, and his often engaging manners won him great affection and he was naturally adored by the nurses and maids of honour. Even the Queen could not help spoiling him a little. He was her firstborn, a sign to the rest of the world that although she might be a plain and insignificant little woman, at least she could produce a charming son.

The people did not like her. She was aware of that. She would never forget driving through Richmond with the King beside her when a woman ran up to the carriage and began to curse her.

It was horrible to be made aware of such hatred and to wonder what one had done to be the cause of it.

"Go back where you belong, you crocodile.”

They hated her because she was a foreigner, because she was ugly. She was small and thin and her mouth made her look like a crocodile, it was true. She admitted to the resemblance when she herself looked in the glass.

The woman had taken off her shoe and thrown it at her. It had narrowly missed her face and hit the upholstery of the carriage.

"Go back. Go back where you belong, you German woman!" A scene. The carriage stopping. The Guards arresting the poor creature who, they said, was mad. She could have been severely punished but both the King and Queen decided against that. But the unreasoning hatred of a mob was a frightening thing, something of which she supposed all kings and queens were made aware at some time.

But in her rooms at Kew she felt a pleasant security; it was as though she were wrapped round in a cocoon which protected her from the world. When she had first come to England she had imagined herself ruling England with the King; now she knew she would never be allowed to do that. Therefore she would rule her own household at Kew ... dear little Kew ... where with her children she could live shut away from the unpleasantness of the world. Not for her to dabble in politics as the Princess Dowager had done but only after her husband's death. She would content herself with ruling her own household.

And rule she did, taking an interest in the smallest details. Following the King's lead she must study the household accounts; she wanted to know how every penny was spent. She became fascinated by economies which did not endear her to the members of her household. Albert, her hairdresser whom she had brought with her from Mecklenburg, was one who was in revolt.

He came to her one day and said: "Madam, I wish to return to Mecklenburg.”

She was astonished. Leave England, this great and expanding country, for a little dukedom!

Albert must have taken leave of his senses.

"No, Madam," was the answer, "I could find a more lucrative post in the household of the Duke, I am sure. My skill is such that I should be welcomed there; and if Your Majesty would allow me to retire from your service on a pension ...”

"A pension!" The Queen was horrified. More money given away. She could not bear to contemplate it.

Albert pointed out sadly that the expectations with which he had come to England had not materialized.

"That is often the case with many of us," she told him, and that was the end of the matter. Albert was not going to be allowed to leave.

The ladies-in-waiting said she was becoming like a miserly old country woman measuring out the preserves from the still-room; and aware of their hostility she became more and more autocratic, although bowing to the King's will in all things. She had made a rule that all her ladies should buy English goods.

"I myself," she told Lady Charlotte Finch, 'shall wear an English nightdress." She smiled. "The King is pleased when I do. And, Lady Charlotte, I expect you to do the same.”

Lady Charlotte, who liked to choose her own clothes, was a little deflated, but owing to her position in the nurseries could do nothing but obey.

"And the children's clothes should be English too.”

"Then Your Majesty would wish me to order new English clothes for them.”

"Good heavens, no. What a wicked waste! Only when the time comes, Lady Charlotte.”

Lady Charlotte smiled. Like other ladies of the Court she liked to tease the Queen, without her knowing it, of course. Charlotte asked for the lists of the children's clothes to be brought to her then. Each boy had six full dress suits a year besides several ordinary suits for ordinary day wear; once a fortnight they had new shoes, and new hats as they were required.

"The Prince of Wales seems to wear a great many hats.”

"He enjoys playing ball with them, Your Majesty.”

"Oh, the wicked waste! He must be stopped.”

But even Charlotte was pleased at her son's high spirits.

"And William's shoes! Edward's too! Surely they cannot need so many pairs? A pair for spring and autumn should be adequate.”

"They have a passion for kicking stones, Your Majesty. And if they can find anything to kick they will kick it.”

"Then they must be forbidden to do so, the naughty little things. Where do they learn such habits?”

"From the Prince of Wales, Your Majesty.”

It always came back to the Prince of Wales. "He is a rogue," said his mother affectionately; but she doted on him to such an extent that she could even forget to be shocked by the extravagance he caused.

Such pleasant days at dear little Kew, waiting for her to be born, bearing them, having the pleasure of seeing another little face in the nursery. And of course the King came often to escape from state affairs, for a little respite such as he loved. There were times when Charlotte would have liked to reason with him, to ask him why he could not discuss affairs with her. How interesting it would have been if he had. It was not that she was meek by nature, far from it; but she could not forget those terrifying weeks of his illness when he had wandered in his mind and had been yes, she had to admit it, somewhat deranged, when the Princess Dowager and Lord Bute had sought to keep her away from him a foretaste of what her life would be like if ever she lost him.

Sometimes when George's eyes seemed to become more prominent than ever, when his speech became more rapid and was punctuated even more liberally than usual by those interminable "Whats', a terrible fear came to her that George might again suffer the same sort of illness which he had experienced that spring.

No, Kew meant refuge to him as it did to her. There he played the country gentleman; there he made his buttons and inspected the farms and talked about turning some of the park into arable land, supervised the children's education, diet, their wardrobes, their household. That was when he was happiest dealing with the little things of life which to him were of the utmost importance.

"Plenty of exercise," he would say, 'and plenty of fresh air, eh? And not overloading with food.

What? Vegetables. Good for you. And never wine. Make sure the children get lean meat.”

He himself followed these rules which he laid down for the children, for he was certain they were necessary for all.

While the Wilkes trouble was at its height and there were riots in St. George's Square outside the jail, the King came to Kew for a little respite. Charlotte who had listened to her women talking of Wilkes as indeed everyone was who had heard the servants whisper the man's name often when they were unaware that she could hear, mentioned him to the King which brought forth unusual indignation in His Majesty.

"Why, Charlotte," he said, "I thought you knew that I come here to escape from these tiresome matters. Didn't you? Didn't you, eh? What peace am I to get if I am to have nothing but Wilkes in St. James's and nothing but Wilkes at Kew, what? What?”

Charlotte said that that man's name seemed to be on all lips so she supposed it was natural it should be on hers, too.

"Not at Kew. I come to Kew to get away from all that. Not much use coming here to find Wilkes waiting for me, eh?”

To soothe him Charlotte asked if he would care to go into the children's house to see them dine.

They would be just sitting down to dinner and delighted doubtless to see their father. This suggestion restored the King's good humour and together he and the Queen left the main house at Kew and walked the little distance to the small one occupied by the children. Charlotte was right; the children were just sitting down to their meal, Lady Charlotte Finch presiding.

Charlotte noted that it was a fish day and that there was nothing on the table which the King had laid down should not be eaten by his family. The children greeted their parents with pleasure and cries of delight from little Edward which were echoed by little Charlotte who had only just become old enough to join the group at the table. The youngest, Augusta Sophia, was naturally not present.

The Prince of Wales made an announcement which he made every fish day without fail that he liked meat and when he was king he would eat it every day.

"Then," said the King, 'you will be a very fat king.”

"Fatter than you?" asked George.

"A great deal fatter ... so fat that you won't be able to move about except in a carriage. You wouldn't like that would you? Eh? Eh?”

"Yes, I would," said the Prince of Wales.

"But I tell you, you would not.”

"I would," said the Prince of Wales almost sullenly. "I hate fish. I want meat.”

The Queen looked at Lady Charlotte Finch who remarked that the Prince of Wales seemed to forget he was in the presence of the King and Queen.

"I didn't forget. How could I forget when they are here.”

"The Prince of Wales forgets his manners, it seems. What?" said the King, looking so fiercely at Lady Charlotte that she flushed.

"I don't forget them," the Prince pointed out. "I don't always use them.”

The Queen tried not to smile, but the boy knew by the twitching of her lips that he was being as amusing as ever and he went on imperiously: "And if I don't want to use them, I won't.”

"Perhaps," said the King, still looking at Lady Charlotte, 'the Prince of Wales should be requested to leave the room until he can find the manners he has mislaid. Eh? What?”

Little Edward began to look under the table as though he thought manners were something which they should be wearing or carrying in their pockets. Frederick who always followed his eldest brother said: "I won't eat fish either.”

"Then," said the King, 'you may leave the table and your brother may go with you. You understand me, eh?”

"Quite," said the Prince of Wales haughtily. "Come, Fred.”

The two boys went with great dignity to the door and the Prince said as they disappeared : "I never could abide fish.”

"The young puppies," said the King when the door shut on them and William told his parents about his new puppy and the Queen answered brightly, trying to pretend that her two eldest sons had not been dismissed in disgrace.

"I will speak to them later," said the Queen comfortably. "Young George has such high spirits and Fred will follow him in everything.”

The King grunted; he was already working out in his mind fresh arrangements involving more discipline in the nursery. They sat with the younger children until they finished their dinner, and when they had been to their nursery they sat on together and the King talked in a rather excited manner about young George.

"But I have heard that he learns quickly and is very bright indeed at his lessons.”

"He must learn humility," replied the King. "That must be taught him. You agree, eh? You'd admit he was showing some arrogance. You wouldn't approve of that, eh? What?”

"He has very high spirits and that is no bad thing. I think that on the whole we should be rather proud of him.”

The King nodded, and said he would work out new rules for the children's household; and he would see that the Prince of Wales was taught a little more humility. He wondered how they were getting on with their music. They must love music. He had found more pleasure in music than any other entertainment. He believed that Handel was one of the best of musicians and he wanted the boys and the girls in time to be familiar with his works. Whether they had inherited his love of music or not they were to be made to like it ... just as they would be made to like lean meat and fish when it was not their day for meat.

The door of the room was cautiously opened; the Queen turned sharply, but the King had not heard. Charlotte saw Frederick's face, rather red, his blue eyes alight with purpose and behind him the taller figure of the Prince of Wales.

Suddenly Frederick shouted: "Wilkes and Number Forty Five forever.”

The King leaped to his feet. There was a sound of scampering feet and rushing to the door George saw his elder sons disappear up the staircase. Charlotte came and stood beside him. Then George began to smile; Charlotte smiled too. Then they were both laughing.

"So you see," said the Queen demurely. "Your Majesty cannot get away from Wilkes even at Kew.”

The children should be made aware of their public duty, said the King; and no one could deny that he was a devoted father. To give them an interest and to take their minds from their own petty importance he ordered that a model farm be made at Kew and there they could have their own animals and feel as the King said 'a responsibility towards them'. The King believed that what was entrancing to him must be to his children; and it was he who took more pleasure in the model farm than his sons did. When he was at Kew he would go to see how the milking was getting on and take a turn with the butter making.

"Come, George," he would say. "Come, Fred. You are not princes at this moment. You are farmers. Understand, eh? What's that? You'd rather be a prince, George. I've no doubt. I've no doubt. But you will have to learn to appreciate the joys of working the land, boy.”

For the most part the boys did enjoy playing with their father. They were fond of the animals; but none of them showed the skill the King had in dealing with them. The King had decided that on every Thursday Kew should be thrown open to the public so that they could wander about the grounds and the farm, and see the children at play. They would watch the games of cricket and rounders at which the elder Princes excelled; and the Prince of Wales always enjoyed an audience.

The act of throwing Kew open to the people proved to be a good one, for the King's popularity began to rise again and whatever else was said of him all agreed that he was a good father; and when he met any of his subjects wandering over his lawns he always behaved with the utmost courtesy and never expected them to treat him as a King.

He was a bit dull, they said; and there was nothing exciting about his Court; but he was a good husband and father and that was rare in Kings. But this mingling with the public could be carried too far and when George decided that he wished the children to hold a Court of their own there was some criticism of this. Young Frederick who was at this time seven had, when only a few months old, been given the title of Bishop of Osnabruck, which amused the lampoonists so much that the child was always represented in Bishop's regalia when he appeared in cartoons as he did constantly since he had received this title.

At the reception the five eldest children stood on a dais where they received the company in the utmost solemnity. The Prince of Wales, wearing the Order of the Garter, looked particularly jaunty and young Frederick, the youthful Bishop, wore the Order of the Bath. The ceremony was subjected to the utmost ridicule which delighted those noblemen who, with their wives, had been obliged to bow before such young children.

The cartoonists were busy; examples of their work were handed round; and the Prince of Wales was drawn flying a kite while a Whig dignitary bowed low before him. It was a mistake, George realized; and he was very susceptible to the feelings he aroused in his subjects. But even though this ceremony brought the jeers of the writers and artists, everyone went on admitting that the King was a good father and considering the state of the country and that he was therefore overwhelmed by anxieties brought about by the hostilities between his ministers and their ineptitude in solving the nation's affairs, he still had time to supervise his children's education.

George was a family man.