A forgotten Prince of Wales

In the reign of George the First there had commenced an important negotiation between that King and Frederick William, King of Prussia, having for its object the union of the two royal houses by a double marriage, Prince Frederick Louis, King George’s grandson, was to wed with Wilhelmina, the Princess Royal of Prussia; the Prince Royal of Prussia was to marry the Princess Amelia, sister of Prince Frederick, afterwards Frederick the Great.

This arrangement had been most eagerly fostered by Sophia Dorothy, daughter of George the First, who had espoused the King of Prussia; the negotiations had reached such a successful stage that King George had promised that the nuptials of his grandson with the Princess Wilhelmina should be celebrated at his next visit to Hanover, but his death had prevented the fulfilment of his promise.

There had also been another reason which had tended to delay the marriage, and this had been the sudden secession of King Frederick William of Prussia from the Treaty of Hanover, and this had greatly offended his father-in-law, King George of England.

Other obstacles cropped up, too, at the accession of George the Second, who had, from his earliest years, conceived an intense dislike for his cousin, the Prussian King. This was the subject of a most intense regret on Queen Sophia Dorothy’s part, who had schemed for the union of her daughter Wilhelmina with Prince Frederick for years.

As for Prince Frederick himself, there is little doubt that although he had never seen her, yet he had in a romantic way fallen in love with his cousin Wilhelmina. This was quite a natural phase of his sanguine, artistic character. One can quite understand that his aunt, the Queen of Prussia, had not neglected any of those little manœuvres by which the hearts of young men are moved. She was simply a match-making mother, and was quite cognizant of the fact that Frederick would, if he lived, inherit the Crown of England.

In addition, there was another very strong reason why she should use every endeavour to get her two children settled and away, and that was the extreme brutality of their father, the Prussian King, towards them, who even did not scruple to beat them severely.

If, however, Prince Frederick had fallen in love with the Princess Wilhelmina’s miniature—no doubt the Prussian Queen saw that he had a good one—the Princess, if her Memoirs are to be believed, had conceived no passion for him, but against this she certainly showed feeling when the dénouement came, as women will when they lose a lover.

Her mother had argued with her as to the advantages of the match, as no doubt royal mothers will:

“He is a good-natured Prince,” she urged, “kind-hearted, but very foolish; if you have sense enough to tolerate his mistresses, you will be able to do what you like with him.”

This art of “tolerating mistresses” seems to be an accomplishment which has been much sought after both by ancient and modern Queens. But this was hardly the kind of argument to foster a romantic passion; yet, on the other hand, Frederick had not exactly constituted himself by reputation the perfect lover.

Left alone in Hanover, almost in regal state, as it was understood there, for he held all the Levees and Courts in the absence of his grandfather, he had run very wild, which was no more than could have been expected under the circumstances.

But for the periodical visits of his grandfather from England, Frederick seems to have been left very much to himself, and with such brilliant examples before him as his father and grandfather, it is not at all to be wondered at that he had mistresses and made a fool of himself generally.

He appears, however, to have been very good friends with his grandfather, King George, and to have taken his part against his father and mother in the quarrels which arose between them and which formed one of the principal scandals of the Court of St. James’s. This conduct on his part did not tend to endear him to his parents, but no doubt he felt himself aggrieved at being left so long neglected in Hanover, and, in addition, he only heard his grandfather’s version of the quarrels.

Prince Frederick then being turned twenty-one, and imagining himself to be passionately in love with his cousin Wilhelmina, could ill brook the diplomatic delays of his father and grandfather.

It must have been a heavy blow to his hopes when the latter died on his way to Hanover, and his promise to have the nuptials of Frederick and Wilhelmina celebrated on his arrival of course fell to the ground. Neither did his successor, George the Second, seem at all in a hurry to have the marriage solemnized, and the delay to a young man of Frederick’s temperament must have been very galling.

It is not at all surprising, therefore, that after waiting more than a year after the death of George the First, he took the matter into his own hands. He determined to get married to his cousin without consulting anyone. For this purpose he contrived an elaborate scheme, and eventually despatched to Berlin a certain trusty Hanoverian officer named La Motte or La Mothe.

This man was charged with a mission to a certain Sastot, a chamberlain of the Queen of Prussia, and probably one who had acted as an agent for her in this matter before. The story cannot be better given than in the very words of the young lady herself, Princess Wilhelmina, as recorded in her diary. La Motte made his appearance at the house of Sastot, and communicated to him the following intelligence:

“I am the bearer of a most important confidential message. You must hide me somewhere in your house that my arrival may remain unknown, and you must manage that one of my letters reaches the King.”

Sastot promised, but asked if his business were good or evil.

“It will be good if people can hold their tongues,” replied La Motte, “but if they gossip it will be evil. However, as I know you are discreet, and as I require your help in obtaining an interview with the Queen, I must confide all to you.

“The Prince Frederick Louis intends being here in three weeks at the latest. He means to escape secretly from Hanover, brave his father’s anger, and marry the Princess.”

Surely this was a most romantic proposal for the good Sastot to listen to!

“He has entrusted me,” proceeded La Motte, “with the whole affair, and has sent me here to find out if his arrival would be agreeable to the King and Queen, and if they are still anxious for this marriage. If she is capable of keeping a secret, and has no suspicious people about her, will you undertake to speak to the Queen on the subject?”

That very night the Chamberlain Sastot went to the Queen and confided the weighty secret to her as he had promised La Motte.

To the Queen, who had been scheming for years for this very object, Sastot could not well have brought better news.

“I shall at length see you happy and my wishes realized at the same time; how much joy at once.”

Such are the words which the Princess Wilhelmina records of her mother when breaking the news to her.

But the Princess, according to her own account, was by no means overjoyed at the intelligence:

“I kissed her hands,” says Wilhelmina, “which I covered with tears!”

“You are crying!” my mother exclaimed, “what is the matter?”

Here Wilhelmina becomes a little double-faced.

“I would not disturb her happiness,” she writes, “so I answered:

“The thought of leaving you distresses me more than all the crowns of the world could delight me.

“The Queen was only the more tender towards me in consequence, and then left me. I loved this dear mother truly, and had only spoken the truth to her,” she continues, “she left me in a terrible state of mind. I was cruelly torn between my affection for her and my repugnance for the Prince, but I determined to leave all to Providence, which should direct my ways.” Very pious of the Princess indeed!

The Queen, however, went on her way rejoicing, knowing, perhaps, rather more of her daughter’s disposition and therefore troubling less about her tears.

She was evidently brimming over with high spirits at the Reception which she held that very evening, a most unlucky Reception for her schemes as it turned out. This excellent match-making aunt of Prince Frederick was fated to suffer a terrible disappointment that evening. In a burst of almost incredible confidence she told Bourguait, the English Envoy, the whole plan of Prince Frederick!

The Envoy was astounded at the communication, and asked if it were true.

“Certainly,” replied the Queen, “and to show you how true it is, he has sent La Motte here, who has already informed the King of everything.”

“Oh, why does Your Majesty tell me this? I am wretched, for I must prevent it!” exclaimed Bourguait.

“Why?” asked the dismayed Queen.

“Because I am my Sovereign’s Envoy; because my office requires of me that I should inform him of so important a matter. I shall send off a messenger to England this very evening. Would to God I had known nothing of all this!”

He was as good as his word, and the messenger went off that night despite the Queen’s tears.

A good strong man this Bourguait; one not to be moved from his duty by even a Queen, for she no doubt left no stone unturned to divert him from a purpose which would render abortive her years of scheming.

The effects of the message to England were startling.

King George the Second and his Queen Caroline, who had kept their eldest son away from England for fourteen years, and had resisted every persuasion of their Ministers to bring him over, hesitated no longer; a Colonel Lorne was despatched at once to Herrenhausen to bring the Prince to London. He lost no time on the journey, and appeared at Herrenhausen while a ball given by Prince Frederick was in progress. This function, however, interfered in no way with Colonel Lorne’s commands; he induced the Prince to leave Herrenhausen that very night with but one attendant, and Frederick turned his back upon a home which had sheltered him for many years, although it was in a sense no home at all, and in this life saw it no more.

But when the news of the King of England’s coup and the departure of the Prince reached Berlin, the Royal Palace became no fit place for Christians to live in.

The Queen took to her bed, and the Princess Wilhelmina, like other young ladies when they lose their lovers, fainted away, only to come to, apparently and write in her diary “the whole thing was a plot of George the Second,” which sounds very much like the remark of an angry and disappointed young lady, instead of one who wished us to believe that she was inspired with repugnance for Prince Frederick.

Her father, the King, however, who was in a towering rage at the course events had taken, was evidently not in the habit of wasting a good fit of temper on mere fuming. He appeared on the scene and soundly thrashed both Wilhelmina and her brother Frederick, Mr. Wilkins says, “in a shocking manner.”

And the double marriage scheme ended thus ignominiously!