There was one thing above all others which aroused the Prince’s fury and that was the knowledge that his parents so deeply regretted his birth, that they wished him dead so that William might be the Prince of Wales. Everywhere the Queen went, William was with her. He was treated as though he were the Prince of Wales.
‘Let them give him all honours,’ said the Prince to his wife, ‘it makes no difference. I am the Prince of Wales and nothing can alter that. You wait till we have a son. That will be an end to Master William’s hopes for ever.’
‘We will have a son,’ cried Augusta.
‘Many of them,’ replied Frederick, ‘just to make sure of it.’
The Queen was certain that the Prince would never have a child; she did not think him capable of begetting one. The rumour was that he was impotent and that wise people were paying court to William because he was certainly going to be the next king.
Then the Prince began treating the Princess with that very special care which indicated that she was already pregnant. Nothing official was said about this but the Princess, acting on her husband’s orders, played up to the story.
The Queen was anxious and there were endless discussions between her, the Princess Caroline, and Lord Hervey.
The Queen was tormented by the thought of Frederick’s having a child and one day she summoned Lord Hervey to her and told him that she wanted to speak to him very privately.
When they were alone she said: ‘The Prince is putting it about that the Princess is pregnant. I do not believe this to be possible. I believe that the marriage has never been consummated.’
‘Why should Your Majesty believe this?’ asked Hervey, always curious to discover such secrets which were just the kind which appealed to his nature.
‘Because I know something of my son. And I believe you know a great deal, too. You know, do you not, that little FitzFrederick was not Frederick’s son. He was yours. Oh, come along now, my lord, put aside all affectation and answer me, for I am very anxious to be satisfied.’
‘Madam, it is difficult to know who was the father of Miss Vane’s son.’
‘Perhaps she knew.’
‘She did not always speak the truth.’
‘No, I’ll warrant she told you FitzFrederick was yours, and Frederick he was his. Frederick pretended to believe her. He was so proud of having fathered that boy. A little too proud perhaps. What did Miss Vane tell you of the Prince?’
Hervey hesitated and the Queen said impatiently, ‘Pray, do not be coy. You and I have talked of such matters often enough.’
‘She would describe the Prince as being inexperienced and ignorant, but she did not say he was impotent.’
‘It is very important to me to know,’ said the Queen. ‘If I thought he were impotent I should be very easy in my mind, for then the way would be clear ahead for William. Could you ask Lady Dudley? She was his mistress and as she has been to bed with half the men in town she would know whether Fred is like others or not.’
‘There is one way to find out all Lady Dudley knows of course, but I do not think my curiosity is strong enough to make me risk my nose to satisfy it.’
‘I know of his great desire to have children and I believe him capable of anything to get the Princess with child. He was so anxious to be thought the father of Miss Vane’s child—over anxious—and although you have perjured yourself by assuring me it was not so, yet I am sure that had he asked you to get a child for him.... Pray, hold your tongue. I do not want to listen to any more lies on this subject.’
‘I was not going to comment on that,’ said Lord Hervey, boldly interrupting her. ‘But suppose it were true. There is a difference between asking a man to lie with one’s mistress and asking him to lie with one’s wife. The Princess would have to be in the secret in order to reach a satisfactory conclusion.’
‘I am sure if you undertook it you could contrive it, though I don’t know how you could bring it about without her knowledge.’
Such a possibility delighted the devious imagination of Hervey. ‘If the Prince had consummated his marriage it would be possible,’ he said. ‘But if he hadn’t, that would be very difficult ... nay, impossible.’
‘Now suppose you were both willing, how could you, without her knowledge, go to bed with her in his place?’
‘It would be simple.’
‘My God, tell me how.’
‘Well, for a month before the time I would advise the Prince to go to bed several hours after his wife and to pretend to get up several times during the night and then to scent himself with some powerful scent. He would have to accustom her to his silences in bed and then the man who would be same size as the Prince would go into her in his place.’
The Queen laughed. ‘You are ingenious, Lord Hervey, and I love you mightily, but if I thought you would get a little Hervey by the Princess of Saxe-Gotha to disinherit my dear William, I could not bear it, nor do I know what I should be capable of doing.’
‘Your Majesty need have no fear. I am the last man with whom the Prince would enter into such a compact. And my dear great good Queen, you must cease to fear on this score. The Prince would never make such a request to any man.’
‘I think he is capable of it,’ replied the Queen. ‘He would hate to be thought impotent and I think he would go to any lengths to foist a child on us.’
‘No man would enter into such a bargain, Your Majesty. The risks would be too great. No sum of money would be large enough to compensate a man for taking such a risk, for who knows, with such a secret he might easily be found too dangerous to be allowed to live.’
‘He would have the honour of being the father of a King.’
‘In secret, Madam. Vanity has little to feed on in private. It is only in public that it shines. Suppose I had the honour to be born Your Majesty’s son.’
‘I wish to God you had,’ said the Queen with vehement affection.
‘Your Majesty is very kind, but if it were so and I believed any man other than the King was my father I should never act as though I believed it. But, Madam, this is a little play we are making. It may be that the Prince is impotent, in which case the way is clear for His Highness of Cumberland. But if he is not, then the Princess Augusta, even if she is not now with child, may well be one day—and we must make the best of it.’
‘You are right,’ said the Queen; ‘but I fret on this point; and I pray you, if you should hear any rumour as to the Prince’s capabilities or the true state of the Princess, tell me without delay.’
‘My dear Majesty may rely on me now as ever.’
‘I know, I know,’ said the Queen. ‘You are my comfort in this troublous realm.’
When the King wrote that he would not be back for his birthday, Walpole was seriously disturbed.
He came to see the Queen immediately.
‘This is the first time he has failed to come home for his birthday,’ he said. ‘He knows the seriousness of this. There will be comment and he does not care. This is significant.’
The Queen agreed that it was.
‘It means, of course, that he will not leave Madame de Walmoden.’
‘Then ...’ The Queen spoke almost sharply. ‘He must stay with her.’
‘Madam, if he does he will not stay King of England.’ ‘Then what ...’
‘There is murmuring in the streets already. He was never so unpopular as he is now. More and more people are looking to the Prince. I tell you this can be disastrous ... not only for the King, but for the House of Hanover.’
‘I know it,’ said the Queen.
‘There is a way out.’
‘Pray what?’ asked Caroline.
‘You must invite Madame de Walmoden to the Court.’
‘Invite her ... here?’
‘It is the only way. Here she will be to the King what Lady Suffolk was. It is the only way.’
‘I refuse,’ cried the Queen.
‘Your Majesty should consider the alternative. I would feel more comfort from knowing that woman was under our own roof than keeping the King in Hanover.’
‘I will not have that woman here.’
‘Doubtless Your Majesty will wish to consider this matter. We will talk of it later.’