Frederick, Prince of Wales, was supposed to become King of England. Instead, he became known as the father of one of history’s most infamous monarchs, George III—the so-called “mad king. ” But Frederick’s own story was marked by a spectacular family feud, scandalous choices, and a sudden, unexpected death. Born in 1707 in Hanover, Germany, Frederick didn’t always stand so close to the British throne.
When he was seven, his parents, George and Caroline, became Prince and Princess of Wales after a series of complicated inheritances. But when they moved to England, they made a callous decision: they left Frederick behind with an uncle, unsure when they would see him again. That separation lasted fourteen years and shaped everything that followed. During those years, his mother made decisions about his welfare from afar.
When the early smallpox vaccine became available, she had him inoculated without hesitation. History would prove her right about vaccines, but at the time, it was a striking example of her willingness to place Frederick in uncertain circumstances from a distance. Everything changed in June 1727 when Frederick’s father took the throne as King George II, making Frederick the new Prince of Wales. At twenty, he was finally allowed to come to England.
His parents expected a happy reunion. Instead, they were horrified by the man their son had become. Raised by tutors with little attention to his character, Frederick arrived burdened with gambling debts and a reputation for taking multiple mistresses. Once settled in England, Frederick made his resentment clear.
He created a rival court made up of his parents’ political enemies. His mother, Queen Caroline, was a skilled political operator and responded by favoring Frederick’s younger brother, William, and even exploring ways to disinherit Frederick—though she never fully succeeded. She did, however, manage to keep him from gaining much power, acting as regent herself whenever the king left the country rather than allowing Frederick to step in. Frederick’s judgment was consistently poor.
He became close friends with Lord John Hervey, a notorious court gossip, and together they wrote a theatrical comedy that was staged at Drury Lane in 1731 under Frederick’s pseudonym, Captain Bodkin. The theater manager was so certain the play would fail that he stationed soldiers in the audience to keep the peace. He was right. The play flopped, the soldiers kept angry theatergoers in line, and everyone’s money was refunded.
Scandal followed Frederick wherever he went. Shortly after arriving in England, he told his mother he was taking one of her ladies-in-waiting as his mistress. That woman, Anne Vane, came from a family known for scandal. In the 1730s she became pregnant, and although the father’s identity was disputed—with Frederick and Lord Harrington among the candidates—she gave birth at St.
James’s Palace, signaling her ongoing connection to Frederick. She named the boy Fitz Frederick, which literally means “son of Frederick,” a power move that made her position clear. Hervey later claimed the child was his, which led to a falling out between him and Frederick. Marriage proved no easier.
Frederick’s father negotiated with Prussia for a royal bride, but Frederick grew impatient, sent his own envoy to complete the deal, and infuriated King George, helping to wreck the arrangement. Frederick’s real interest in marriage was financial: he needed a large dowry to pay off his gambling debts. He pushed for Lady Diana Spencer, one of the wealthiest women in England, but the government and his parents rejected the match. In 1736, Frederick’s parents suggested Princess Augusta of Saxe-Gotha, a sixteen-year-old German princess who spoke no English.
Frederick agreed, saying he would marry whoever they wanted, as long as she brought enough money. Augusta arrived in England disoriented and isolated. She was so young and naive that people sometimes spotted her playing with dolls in the palace windows, until Frederick’s sister convinced her to stop. Frederick then used his new bride’s innocence to solve a personal problem.
He denied rumors about his relationship with Lady Archibald Hamilton, then persuaded Augusta to make Hamilton her lady-in-waiting, giving Frederick unrestricted access to his mistress. He also systematically turned Augusta against his parents, instructing her to snub Queen Caroline—at one point making Augusta refuse to enter the chapel entirely if the queen had already arrived. In 1737, Augusta became pregnant with Frederick’s child. Queen Caroline, reportedly skeptical about the baby’s legitimacy, insisted on being present at the birth.
Frederick refused to accept this. When Augusta went into labor in July, he forced her into a carriage for a ninety-minute ride to remote St. James’s Palace, hoping to keep his mother away. The palace was unprepared.
There was no bed and no sheets for the delivery, so Augusta gave birth to a daughter on a tablecloth. Queen Caroline soon discovered what had happened and rushed over with an entourage that included Hervey. She reportedly mocked the new parents, saying she was glad they had a poor, ugly little girl, since no one would try to pass off an illegitimate female heir as legitimate. This was the end of any remaining relationship between Frederick and his mother.
Caroline all but disowned him, and her contempt extended to Augusta, whom she once dismissed as a “poor creature” under the direction of a fool. According to Hervey, Caroline once saw Frederick nearby and declared she wished the ground would open and sink the “monster” to the lowest hole in hell. The family dysfunction spilled into public view. At one point, a prankster posted a notice at a royal residence mocking George II as a man who had left his wife and six children.
Around the same time, in early 1737, the king’s ship survived a storm on its return from Hanover. Upon his arrival, exhausted and feverish, Frederick started a rumor that his father was truly dying. The court panicked, and George II was forced to get out of bed and attend a social event to prove he was still alive. Later that year, Frederick’s parents had had enough.
They banished him, Augusta, and their child from court. The couple moved to Leicester House, away from the monarchy’s center of power. It would prove to be the final battle in the family’s long war. Weeks after Frederick settled at Leicester House, Queen Caroline fell suddenly ill with a strangulated bowel, a fatal condition at the time.
She suffered for days. Frederick asked his father for permission to see her and make amends. The king, with Caroline’s blessing, refused him entry. Through a politician, she sent word that she forgave him—though it was impossible to know what she truly felt in her final hours.
When she died on November 20, 1737, Frederick was not invited to her funeral at Westminster Abbey. Some suspected that was her final, pointed gesture. In the decade that followed, Frederick seemed to settle down. He and Augusta had nine children together, including a son who would become George III.
In March 1751, Frederick was forty-four and in good health. His wife was pregnant with their ninth child. Then, without warning, he collapsed at home, likely from a pulmonary embolism, and died. His widow was devastated.
Augusta was thirty-two and reportedly barely believed the news, with attendants spending hours convincing her. Frederick’s father, however, showed little grief. He gave Frederick a small funeral and mourned him very little. After everything, Frederick remained his least favorite son.
Augusta, however, learned from her husband’s mistakes. She threw herself on King George II’s mercy to secure the succession for her eldest son. She reportedly charmed the king so completely that he granted her the Regency position should anything happen to him while her son was too young to rule—something Frederick had never achieved. Frederick may not have become king, but his son did.
George III took the throne, and his reign was later marked by episodes of mania that led to the nickname “Mad King George. ” Historians have debated whether he suffered from porphyria or, as many now believe, bipolar disorder. His episodes of confusion, rambling speech, and instability threw England into decades of uncertainty—a legacy Frederick surely never intended.