The Queen reported this love of ships to the King who approved for once and said that when the time came William should go into the Navy and Frederick into the Army; as for George he would have to learn to be a king.

The Queen often doubted that the manner in which the boys were being brought up was most suited to a future monarch. The discipline the King insisted on was surely certain to produce rebellion in a character like that of the Prince of Wales. He grew more headstrong every day; and it was clear that when he at last broke free he would be like a frisky young horse who is determined to gallop anywhere… as long as he could revel in his freedom.

The Queen saw this, but the King could not, and ever since she had arrived in England – a plain little German princess in her teens who could scarcely speak a word of English – she had been made to realize that her duty was to bear the children; everything else might be left to the King, his mother and her lover Lord Bute. A frustrating state of affairs, but what could a humble princess do but bide her time. She lacked beauty, brilliance and all the graces it seemed, her only asset being her fecundity.

There was no doubt of that. The children had continued to arrive at regular intervals – in time fifteen of them, two of whom died in their infancy; but thirteen was a good number.

Both the King and Queen would have been happier in a less exalted position; and they tried to turn Kew – their favourite place of residence – into the home of a country gentleman rather than a royal palace. The King often wished he had been a farmer, for farming interested him more than state affairs. They were very depressing at this time in any case, with the colonists raising their voices against the mother country and half the House of Commons calling for stern methods to bring them to order and the other half advising placation. The King, with his firm ideas of the divine rights of Kings – and teaching his sons to have the same – could not understand why there should be any need to give the colonists what they asked. They were attempting to be disloyal to the crown, said the King. Let them feel the full weight of England’s displeasure.

There had been trouble with John Wilkes who had fought for free speech and whose actions the King had deplored. ‘Wilkes for ever!’ was a cry which made his eyes bulge with anger; yet it had been heard very frequently in the streets – and in the nursery too.

One day the King and Queen had been together – the Queen at her tatting, the King making buttons, a pastime from which he derived great pleasure and which his people derided as an unsuitable occupation for a King – when the door was thrust open by a very bold young Prince of Wales, with Frederick beside him and little William bringing up the rear.

It was rebellion against the lack of freedom in the royal nursery; it was the Prince of Wales, heedless of consequences, in revolt.

‘Wilkes for ever!’ cried the young childish voices.

And as the King hurried to the door he was just in time to see William being dragged out of sight by his brothers.

It was difficult to know how to punish such an action, said the King. It showed an interest in affairs which was commendable; it showed certain spirit; but it showed disrespect to their parents, which was disrespect to the crown.

The Queen said she thought that as the incident had made His Majesty smile perhaps this was an occasion when he might consider being lenient.

Leniency was not always advisable, said the King ponderously, and went on to deliver a lecture on the bringing up of children.

The only time he ever explained his actions to her was when it concerned the household; if she dared mention state affairs he was displeased and Wilkes, with all the trouble he was making, was a state affair.

He said he would tell one of the tutors to do the caning. It would give it less weight than if delivered by the King himself.

He gives more thought to caning his children, thought the Queen resentfully, than he does to state affairs. And one of these days they’ll grow up to hate him.

It was not all punishment at Kew. The King was fond of his children and, it had to be admitted, proud of them. It was his pride in his eldest son which made him stern. The boy was too handsome, too clever, too spoiled by those who surrounded him – and his mother would be included in this if the King did not keep a firm hold on her – and for this reason he must be periodically caned, watched over and kept in constant restraint.

Both he and his brother Frederick were allowed to have their little patch on which they were to grow wheat because the King wished to instil in them his own love of growing things. That they loathed it, particularly George who could not bear getting his hands soiled, was of no consequence. The wheat must be taken through its various processes and, when ready, made into bread which the King sampled with great discrimination, passing judgement on the boys’ skill as wheat growers.

William remembered George’s fury. ‘Are we farmers, then? What do people think of a king who believes that part of the training of kings is tilling the soil!’

Frederick agreed and so did William and Edward, Ernest, Augustus and Adolphus. The nursery was fast filling at that time.

There were happy occasions. William enjoyed those times when the public came to Kew. The King had made it a rule that sightseers should be admitted every Thursday; and the band used to play on the Green. The people loved to see the royal family, but in particular the children, and George bowed and smiled and received their admiration with such pleasure that he was the most popular member of the family.

Frederick, William and the other brothers looked on, content that this should be so. In fact they would have been astonished if anyone had not been delighted with George and would have thought there was something wrong with any person who could not appreciate their brilliant and flamboyant brother.

There was always plenty of music, for the King was eager that his sons should understand and love it. George had a quick ear and could sing well but William had little understanding of it and could not appreciate the genius of Handel of whom the family was particularly fond. The King would sit beating time while the musicians played and the children were all expected to remain in awed silence and to be able to talk knowledgeably with their father on the subject of oratorios and operas – which George could do with ease. William feared he was not very musical. In fact he was beginning to fear that he was not nearly as clever as his brothers. Fred was of course a pale shadow of George but he could joke with his elder brother and they could be quite witty together. William was too slow. Never mind. He knew he could never compete and so did they and they accepted this.

In any case he did not have to attend the Queen’s Drawing Rooms every Thursday which the two elder boys did because he was not considered old enough. George grimaced when he talked of these.

‘Lucky William,’ he said. ‘At least you escape that.’

And William grinned sheepishly but wished that he went all the same, because nothing seemed right unless he shared it with his brothers.

Cards were played but not by the Princes, of course, who must stand beside the Queen and receive the guests and then listen to the music which was played in the next room, with the King sending out instructions as to what was to be next on the programme.

It was all very dull, said George, and when he was King he would have everything very different.

William did enjoy some of the parties which their parents arranged for them. There were birthday entertainments when the most magnificent firework displays were given. William would stand beside his mother and be unable to suppress his excitement, especially when, because it was his birthday, there was to be a cake in the shape of a ship.

‘Where is our Sailor William, eh?’ the King would say, his eyes protruding, trying to be gay and jolly; but William was never sure of his father and he could not forget the canings – not his own, oddly enough, but those which had been administered to the Prince of Wales.

In those early days of his life Kew was like a little village with its houses scattered about the Green. There was the royal farm where the butter, milk and eggs for the royal household were produced. This was personally supervised by the King, who liked to take his children round to watch the butter being made – and to give a hand now and then – and to tickle the pigs with a long stick until they grunted and fell down in a state of bliss, little guessing that in a short time they would be served up as pork or bacon on the royal table.

There was Lady Charlotte Finch with her own house and her own little garden, the Queen’s house and the house where the children were lodged.

It was an orderly life. They must be up early for the King believed in early rising; they must retire early too. The Queen herself superintended their baths which took place every morning at six. She and the King had a habit of looking in now and then during mealtimes so that the children were never sure when they were coming. The Queen sometimes looked on during lesson times, and their father worked out their curriculum.

That was how it was until William was eight years old and then his world was shattered. The Prince of Wales and his brother Frederick were to have a separate establishment as they were considered too old to be with the younger children. A governor was appointed for them and a new household, and William remained behind in the nursery.