IT was a misty November morning when the Queen decided that she would go to inspect the new library she was having built in the stable yard of St James’s.
The King, strangely enough, had raised no objection, and Walpole had somehow found the money from the treasury to enable this project to become a reality. She had been wise, Caroline told herself, to have started the library after the King had returned chastened from Hanover.
Now she was watching it grow with real pleasure and she and her daughter Caroline came every day to inspect it.
It was pleasant, she said to Caroline, to have something that was a comfort to contemplate.
Caroline agreed; they were both thinking of Fred who, since the birth of his daughter, had behaved so badly, particularly to the Queen whom he seemed to dislike more than he did his father. If he had a chance of slighting her, he would seize it and the situation between them all had become so bad that the King had exiled Frederick, his wife, and child from St James’s, declaring he would not have him under the same roof.
This was exactly what Frederick and the Opposition wanted. He had taken up residence at Kew and started a new Court there. The Opposition was behind him, seeing in him the King who would very soon be on the throne. The young Tories believed that once the King was dead, that would be the end of Walpole and the Whigs; they would have their chance. Therefore the Prince’s Court was to be feared and neither the King nor the Queen knew when the next trouble would appear.
So, as Caroline said, it was very comforting to inspect the growing library.
But while she stood there the smiles on her face became fixed and the Princess Caroline, herself something of an invalid for her rheumatic pains were showing signs of returning now that damp cold weather was back, noticed that something was wrong.
‘Mamma,’ she said, ‘are you well?’
‘I think,’ said the Queen, leaning heavily on her daughter, ‘I should go back to my apartments.’
‘It is an attack of colic,’ said the Queen, looking at Lady Sundon as though daring her to suggest otherwise.
‘I have sent for Dr Tesier, Mamma,’ said the Princess.
‘I will lie down until he comes. I shall feel better then.’
Dr Tesier arrived and asked the Queen many questions. ‘It is my tiresome colic back again. The same as before, you remember, doctor?’
He did remember. It was a most unpleasant complaint while it lasted and after a bout of it the Queen often felt in better health.
‘Take a little Daffy’s Elixir, Madam,’ he said. ‘It cured you before. It will do so again.’
Lady Sundon brought the Elixir and when she had taken it the Queen said she would rest a while.
The King came bursting into the bedchamber.
‘What’s this?’ he said. ‘What’s this?’
‘Her Majesty was taken ill at the library.’
‘A waste of money! Who wants libraries! ‘ Then he saw the Queen’s pale face and a look of fear came to his face. ‘You’re a fool,’ he shouted, ‘to tire yourself with these stupid things. Making libraries for a lot of boobies to gape at. No wonder you feel faint.’
The Queen knew that his abuse in a way measured his devotion for her. He attacked her because he was frightened.
So, she thought, I must look ill.
‘We shall cancel the drawing room,’ he said.
‘No,’ insisted the Queen. ‘I shall be well in an hour or so. If I sleep now I shall be fully recovered. It has been so before.’
The King was immediately cheered.
‘Stupid libraries for a lot of boobies! ‘ he muttered as he left her.
In the drawing room Lord Hervey approached the Queen’s table.
‘My God, Madam,’ he said, ‘are you ill?’
‘I have had a touch of my old enemy, the colic. I was at the library this morning when it started, so I came back and went to bed.’
‘You are still in pain, Madam. What did you take?’
‘Daffy’s Elixir. Dr Tesier recommended it.’
‘Madam, you should not be here. For God’s sake, go to your room.’
‘You are very vehement, my lord.’
‘I fear for you, Madam.’
The Queen did not meet his eyes. She tried to smile at someone who was approaching. Oh, God, she thought, let this pass. Let the King dismiss these people and let me get to my bed.
Lord Hervey stayed by her side.
God bless him, thought the Queen. He is a cynical man, worldly, perhaps a little wicked, but I love and bless him.
She was watching the King, eagerly waiting for him to retire. And now ... he was doing so and at last she was free.
Oh, the comfort of bed!
Lady Sundon was efficiently helping her to it.
‘Rest, Sundon. I need rest. Oh, my God, I feel so ill.’
‘Yes, Madam. I think I should send for the doctors.’
The Queen was very ill. There was no denying it. Many remedies had been tried; she had been given snake root and brandy, more Daffy’s Elixir, mint-water, and usequebaugh; she had been given clysters, and blooded, and nothing eased her.
The King was frantic with anxiety, cursing the Queen, the doctors, and all those who came near him.
‘She’ll be better soon,’ he insisted. ‘It’s a colic ... nothing more. She’s had colics before.’
She seemed a little quieter and the Princess Caroline sat by her bed with Lord Hervey, for although she wandered a little in her mind she seemed comforted to have them there.
She spoke suddenly to them and said: ‘I have an ill which no one knows of.’ And then she closed her eyes and seemed to sleep.
After that she seemed a little better and expressed her anxiety about the Princess Caroline who was herself ill and should not be sitting up; whereupon Lord Hervey said that he would keep watch by her bedside, and if there was any change in her condition he himself would tell the Princess Caroline without any disguise exactly how the Queen was.
Only then would the Princess leave her mother’s bedside.
The King said he would sit in the Queen’s bedroom with Lord Hervey and Sir Hans Sloane was sent for and, with Dr Hulse, ordered purging and blooding. Princess Amelia lay on a couch in the Queen’s bedroom; and once or twice during the night Lord Hervey went to report to the Princess Caroline what was happening in the sick room.
In the morning the Queen seemed a little better.
As the days passed it began to be believed that the Queen was dying.
The Prince of Wales came from Kew to Carlton House.
When the King heard this he shouted: ‘If the puppy should, in one of his impertinent affected airs of duty and affection, dare to come to St James’s he shall be told I wonder at his impudence. I am in no humour to bear with his impertinence and I shall tell him to get out of my house.’
But soon the Prince was letting it be known that he had come to Carlton House so that he might be near his mother, and this again set the King in a fury.
‘This is one of his scoundrel’s tricks,’ he cried. ‘I always hated the rascal and now I hate him more than ever. He wants to come here and insult his dying mother, but he shall not come here and act his silly parts, false, lying, cowardly, nauseous puppy. And suppose the Queen loved him as much as she hates him, she is not in a condition to bear the emotion.’
The King went to the Queen and sat down by her bed, scowling at her. Get well, that scowl seemed to say. How can I live without you?
She smiled at him and said she was surprised that the Prince had not sent to ask after her. ‘Sooner or later,’ she said, ‘I shall be plagued by some message because he will think it will look well to ask after me. No doubt he hopes I’ll be fool enough to let him come and give him the pleasure of seeing my last breath got out of my body, by which means he will have the joy of knowing I was dead five minutes sooner than he would in Pall Mall.’