Townshend deplored Walpole’s way of life which he considered highly immoral. He was irritated, too, because Walpole had built Houghton, a magnificent country mansion in Norfolk not far from Townshend’s own splendid house at Raynham. They were both proud of their estates and sought to rival each other; and whereas the Raynham house had at one time been the finest in the neighbourhood, Houghton under Walpole’s extravagant care began to rival it and then outshine it.

At Houghton Walpole had one of the finest collections of pictures in the country. He had made a fortune out of the South Seas Company and had stocked his house with treasures. Raynham was decidedly put into the shade.

Moreover, to Houghton came those who were seeking places at Court; it was an honour to be invited; Walpole kept an open house and spent vast sums on entertaining. The wine flowed liberally and there were many what Townshend called ‘drunken orgies’ taking place frequently at Houghton. These parties were the talk of the countryside. They were extremely costly but Walpole did not care. He was a man who liked to surround himself with drinking companions and he found plenty ready to enjoy his lavish hospitality. To Houghton he often brought Maria Skerrett who presided over the parties with him; and the sounds of singing and laughter so disturbed the peace of the countryside—so said Lord Townshend—that when Walpole was at Houghton he found it necessary to leave Raynham.

The brothers-in-law had quarrelled over the Treaty of Seville which Walpole had carried through in a manner which was not in accord with Townshend’s wishes. While Townshend was shocked by Walpole’s profligacy, Walpole sneered at what he called Townshend’s hypocrisy.

The antagonism was at its height when one day at the Queen’s levee Caroline asked Townshend where he had dined.

Townshend replied: ‘With Lord and Lady Trevor, Your Majesty.’

At this remark Walpole who was standing by the Queen’s chair became very alert. Lord Trevor had succeeded the Duke of Kingston as the Lord Privy Seal a few years previously, although Walpole had thought him scarcely the man for such an office; and as the rift between Walpole and Townshend widened so had Townshend drawn closer to Trevor. Lady Trevor, his second wife to whom he had been married for nearly thirty years, was an old and actually a very ugly woman and noted as much for her virtue as for her lack of beauty.

Walpole laughed and said in a voice which could be heard by all surrounding the Queen: ‘Madam, I think Lord Townshend is growing coquet. After all he has had a long widowhood. He has called so frequently at Lord Trevor’s house recently that I suspect he has designs on Lady Trevor’s virtue. That is the only reason I can think of to account for it.’

Townshend’s temper flared up and he regarded his brother-in-law with hatred. ‘I am not one of those fine gentlemen, sir,’ he cried, ‘who indulge in folly and immorality even though they are of an age when one would have hoped they might have been past such manners. Youth and idleness would not, in my opinion, excuse such conduct, but often this deplorable way of life is adopted by those who should know better. There are liberties, sir, which I am as far from taking as I am from approving. I have not the constitution that requires such practices, a purse that can support them nor a conscience that can digest them.’

Walpole smiled cynically and said quietly: ‘Why, my lord, all this for Lady Trevor! ‘

Caroline was annoyed with Townshend because he had so far forgotten his respect for her as to attack Walpole in her presence. He should have made some light response as Walpole had to him; and if he wished, take the matter up with his brother-in-law at some later date.

Townshend had turned to Walpole, his fists clenched, but Caroline said: ‘I think it is time for cards.’

And even Townshend knew that that was an order for him to say no more.


* * *

Townshend must go. That was what the Queen said to Walpole. She had no intention of upholding a man in a high position who had sought to curtail her powers when she was Regent. Townshend must go, said Walpole to the Queen. He was developing a hatred for his one-time friend and ally which could only bring disaster.

‘All went well enough,’ Walpole confided to the Queen, ‘when the firm was Townshend and Walpole. Now it is Walpole and Townshend, he does not like it.’

‘There is only one thing to be done, my good Sir Robert,’ replied Caroline. ‘It must be Walpole alone.’ ‘There is the King,’ Walpole warned her.

She knew that well enough. George had to be made to believe that Townshend should be asked to resign and that was not easy, for George liked Townshend, who had accompanied him on his journey to Hanover. Townshend was a good man, but not as important as Walpole certainly.

They would have to be very careful in condemning Townshend to the King.


* * *

Every time the brothers-in-law met there was trouble, and this came to a head at the house of a Colonel and Mrs Selwyn who had invited them to dine at their house opposite St James’s Palace.

Townshend arrived ready to take offence and expecting it. Walpole was nonchalant, seeming at ease, but determined not to let a chance of plaguing Townshend pass by.

Dinner began and Walpole drank with his usual abandon while Townshend was his abstemious self. They were soon engaged in a disagreement which threatened every minute to turn into an open quarrel. The host and hostess were uneasy; the rest of the guests expectant.

And when Walpole cried: ‘Sincerity? What is sincerity? There is no man’s sincerity I doubt so much as yours, my lord!’ Townshend lost his temper. He leaped from his seat spilling wine over the table and took his brother-in-law by the throat.

Walpole threw off Townshend and the two men stood for a few seconds glaring at each other malignantly; then Walpole clapped his hand on his sword and Townshend did the same. The hostess shrieked and there was clamour throughout the dining room.

‘I must stop this,’ cried Mrs Selwyn. ‘You shall not fight in my house.’

But Walpole had drawn his sword and Townshend had done the same.

‘No! ‘ screamed Mrs Selwyn and ran towards the door with the intention of calling the palace guard.

One of the guests stopped her.

‘There’ll be such a scandal. It will be all over the town if you call the guards. Sir Robert! My Lord Townshend ... for God’s sake put your swords away.’

Eeven Townshend’s temper had cooled a little and he was thinking how ridiculous it was for two middle-aged men—one the premier statesman of the land—to be facing each other, swords drawn at a dinner party.

Neither would be the first to put his sword away although neither had any wish to continue with the farce.

‘There will be such a scandal,’ wailed Mrs Selwyn. ‘Oh, Sir Robert, I beg of you ...’

Sir Robert turned to her and sighing replaced his sword in its scabbard. Townshend did the same.

‘It is impossible for us two to work together,’ said Walpole firmly.

‘That is one matter on which I am in complete agreement with you,’ replied Townshend. ‘I shall retire from any ministry in which you serve.’

Walpole bowed his head.

He excused himself to his hostess. After such a scene he believed it was for one of the offenders to retire, and he would do so with his apologies.

He went immediately to the Queen.

‘Townshend has resigned,’ he said.

She was delighted and he explained exactly what had happened at the Selwyns’.

‘Can you call this a resignation?’ she asked. ‘He vas not speaking officially.’

‘Madam, we must take it that he was speaking officially.’

Walpole then asked for an audience with the King; the Queen was present, but she said nothing while Walpole explained that Townshend had tendered his resignation.

Would His Majesty agree to Lord Harrington’s taking Townshend’s place?

The King had nothing against Harrington. He looked at the Queen who lowered her eyes. She did not want him to know that she and Walpole had long ago decided that as soon as they could rid themselves of Townshend they would set Harrington up in his place.

‘Harrington ...’ The King put his head on one side.

‘I am of the opinion that he would serve Your Majesty well,’ said Walpole.

Yes, Harrington would be a good man—a lazy, easygoing man; just the type who would suit Walpole for he would not attempt to frustrate him as Townshend had done.

‘Does the Queen think Harrington would be a good man?’ asked the King.

‘I know nothing of politics. Your Majesty knows all.’

Oh, dear, thought Walpole. Was that going a little too far? But no! The conceited little man was swallowing the flattery and savouring it. He really believed it was so. ‘Harrington, I think,’ said the King.


* * *

To his surprise Townshend realized that he had retired from the Ministry.

Well, he was weary of conflict in any case and that there would always be while Walpole was the chief minister. Chief minister! thought Townshend. He had made himself the sole minister. The Queen had helped him in this for he was the Queen’s man. If Townshend had had the foresight to seek his fortune through the Queen instead of through Mrs Howard he might not find himself outside politics now.

But it was over and done with. And he had a charming estate in Norfolk. It could be more rewarding perhaps developing that than fighting against an old ruffian like his brother-in-law, for any man who engaged in conflict with Walpole must fight a losing battle.

So to Norfolk went Townshend, and the field was clear for Walpole and the Queen.

Lord Hervey returned to England from a stay abroad where he had gone to recuperate from his almost perpetual ill health; and the Queen was delighted to welcome back her handsome Chamberlain, who sparkled with the wit she failed to find in the Prince of Wales.

Mrs Howard kept her place; Townshend was dismissed. And this was very comforting.

But while the Queen played cards and enjoyed the witticisms of her Chamberlain, while she knotted in the King’s company and led him the way she wanted him to go, Walpole continued to wonder what hold Mrs Clayton could possibly have over the Queen.


* * *

There was one whom both Walpole and the Queen seemed to have forgotten. This was the Prince of Wales. Since he had been denied the Regency he had been growing more and more dissatisfied. He himself would have been perfectly content to go on as he had been; he was lazy and good tempered generally, but there were many who resented Walpole’s power and who knew that such power could never be theirs while there was such a strong alliance between Walpole and the Queen. All astute observers of the scene knew that the Queen led the King and that only the King was unaware of this; so therefore if they wished to set up in rivalry against this powerful triumvirate, they must look beyond their Majesties.

And here was a Prince of Wales—not only neglected by his parents but disliked by them.

Bolingbroke, Pulteney, Wyndham, and such men were watching the Prince of Wales, and dropping casual hints now and then to remind him of his ill-treatment.

There was another who was deeply aware of the Prince, but his methods of using that young man would be different from the ambitious politicians. This was Lord Hervey, court beau and wit.

So while the Queen and Walpole concerned themselves with the waywardness of Mrs Howard, the secretiveness of Mrs Clayton, and the intolerable conduct of Lord Townshend, Lord Hervey was seeking to become the intimate friend of the Prince of Wales.

Lord Fanny


LORD HERVEY lay back languidly as the carriage rattled along the road to Ickworth. He had been long away from home and was pleased to be back; he would not, of course, stay long at Ickworth. A few weeks would suffice with his wife and children; then he and Stephen Fox would go to Court. That was where the excitement lay nowadays.