Accouchement at Midnight
‘THE King is dying!’
This was the theme of conversation in the Prince’s apartments. The change in Frederick was being noticed and many people who had followed the King’s habit and ignored him, now found him worthy of their attentions.
It would not be long, it was said, before the Prince of Wales was King.
George had returned from Hanover this time in a very different mood from last. The irritable temper flared up now and then, it was true, but it was mingled with moods of subdued affection towards his wife. Whenever he mentioned her, tears filled his eyes and he said again and again that she was the best wife in the world.
He did not mention Madame de Walmoden and Walpole wondered whether that little affair had come to an end; but according to his brother, Horace, the King’s farewells to his mistress had been as touching as ever and he had sworn to return to her; and when it was considered that he had delayed leaving her so long that he had not had time to see his daughter who was, it had been thought, at the point of death, it was strange that he should have forgotten his mistress.
The fact was that the King was ill. The trying journey had had its effects on him and he suffered as well from all the depressing ailments which attacked him intermittently.
In fact when it was believed he was with the Queen he was actually keeping to his bed. He would get up, dress for a levee, and come back to bed, so anxious was he to keep the state of his health from his subjects.
Walpole asked the Queen to tell him the truth about the King’s condition, and she replied that the journey had been too much even for him and he was merely feeling the consequences of it; but the minister was not entirely convinced; and as he believed the King to be suffering from some malady about which he had forced his doctors to be silent, he was forming all sorts of conjectures.
The King saw that the Queen was anxious and wanted to know why.
She told him that Walpole was suspicious and thought he was suffering from some fatal complaint.
When he heard this George got from his bed and insisted on dressing.
‘You should not do this,’ cried the Queen. ‘You know you need to rest.’
‘You know who is putting these rumours about. It’s that young puppy. He thinks he is King already. I will show him.’
The King appeared that evening and played quadrille. Lady Deloraine sat beside him and the King paid her marked attention.
‘He looks very wan,’ said the Prince’s friends. ‘And what a lot of weight he has lost.’
But George had made up his mind. He was going on with the old routine; and night after night found him at commerce and quadrille, and he was quite clearly showing a very purposeful interest in Lady Deloraine.
He seemed to recover from that night and grow gradually better. He was soon his old self, giving vent to outbursts of temper, flaying everyone within sight with his tongue if they angered him, and visiting Lady Deloraine.
The Prince was disappointed. He had really thought that the King was in decline and that he himself would be crowned within the next year.
He was sulky. It was unfair. First he had been led to believe his father was drowned; then that he was dying; and now here he was as perky as ever—and as maddening.
He deplored the fact that Bolingbroke had deserted him to go and write in France. He had powerful friends in England though. There was Pulteney of course, and Carteret, and men like young Pitt and Lyttleton, and of course Chesterfield.
He summoned them to his apartments to talk seriously of what could be done.
‘I’m Prince of Wales. I am nearly thirty. I am married ... perhaps soon to become father to the heir of the crown ... and I am treated like a child. I tell you, gentlemen, I shall not endure this much longer.’
Pulteney had realized that it was concerning this matter that the Prince had called them together. In fact it was continually on the Prince’s mind. He wanted the £100,000 a year which his father had had when he was Prince of Wales and since that amount had been taken into consideration when compiling the Civil List, this did not seem unreasonable. He wanted a dowry for Augusta—and if the Opposition made sure, through their writers, that the people know how the Prince had been cheated of these things by his father they would all be in favour of the Prince.
The King had been at the height of his unpopularity when he was in Hanover with Madame de Walmoden, and although he had regained a little regard by running the risk of drowning he was still heartily disliked by his people.
Pulteney saw that the Opposition could bring discomfort to Walpole’s ministry by bringing up this matter of the Prince’s allowances and at the same time win the Prince’s approval, and as it was not at all unlikely that the Prince would be King, possibly in the near future, only good could come of it, for once the King died the Queen’s power would die with him. It was quite clear how the Prince regarded his mother.
Pulteney therefore declared that with the support of his friends he would bring up in Parliament the question of the Prince’s allowances.
When Walpole brought the news to the King and Queen they were furious.
‘We could,’ said Walpole, ‘suffer defeat on this.’ ‘The young puppy! ‘ bellowed the King.
‘These disputes will kill me,’ murmured the Queen. Walpole lifted his shoulders. ‘We must face the facts,’ he said. ‘The Prince has a case.’
‘You are the Parliament,’ shouted the King. ‘You have insisted on having your way in some things ... and now on this you say you’ll be defeated.’
‘I have a very small majority now, Your Majesty will remember. Perhaps we could compromise. If Your Majesty would offer the Prince £50,000 a year and give the Princess a dowry ... and offer this before the motion comes on in the House ... he might accept it. It would be better than what he is now demanding and what may well be assigned to him.’
The King swore he wouldn’t and cursed the Prince, Walpole, and the government. They were all a lot of boobies.
But the Queen prevailed upon him to write to the Prince as Walpole had suggested—an effort which misfired, for the Prince was certain of success.
Walpole was his brilliant self in the House. He told of the King’s wish to live on good terms with his son, of his offer which had been rejected; and he stressed that this was more than a dispute between a father and son; this was trouble in the royal house, something which could affect the nation. So did he sway the House that the Prince’s claims were rejected.
Walpole himself went to the Palace to tell the King and Queen of their victory.
George was delighted.
‘You are a man of spirit,’ he told Walpole. ‘What the Queen and I should do without you, I do not know. As for that young puppy, I’m going to tell him to get out of my house. I’ll not have him in St James’s. He can leave with his wife at once.’
‘Your Majesty,’ cautioned Walpole, ‘that would be a most unpopular move. It would be remembered how the King, your father, behaved to you—and you know what unpopularity that brought him.’
‘This is different. I was ready to be a good son, whereas this young puppy ...’
‘I wish he had never been born,’ said the Queen. Walpole sighed. ‘Your Majesty should now make good
your promise and without delay make arrangements for
the Prince to receive the £50,000 you promised him.’ ‘I see no reason why ...’