For this he would write the letter, the draft of which Walpole had sent him; and having received it the King, for he must take the advice of his ministers, would, if a little ungraciously, receive the Prince.
Therefore the matter could be concluded without the Princess.
Walpole regretted this for he respected the Princess and was eager for her goodwill; but when she insisted on having her children back under her care she was clinging to the one condition to which the King would not agree.
News came from the Palace of St. James's both for the Prince and Princess. To the Prince came a command from his father. For the first time since the quarrel he was prepared to see him. For the Princess was a letter from Lady Portland who wrote that Anne was sick and the smallpox was feared.
The Prince had reached St. James's by the time Caroline's letter was brought to her. There the King received his son with some embarrassment.
George Augustus knew that he had to be humble. Walpole had made that clear; and for the sake of the bribe and the glory of having guards again and being treated as Prince of Wales he was ready to be so.
"I have come to express my grief in causing Your Majesty displeasure," he said, "and with all my heart I thank you for giving me leave to wait upon you. It is my sincere hope that during the rest of my life I shall give Your Majesty nothing of which to complain."
The King muttered that it was his son's conduct "Your conduct..." he repeated.
Little more was said but the King made it clear that if the Prince was ready to behave in a seemly manner he would be treated as the Prince of Wales.
When he left the King—and they were only five minutes together—he went to see his children. Anne was well enough to see him and he was told that she was not as sick as had been feared.
News of the interview had crept out and people were congregating outside the palace to see the Prince emerge from the Palace. As his chair was carried through the streets it was accompanied by guards and beefeaters and although he had arrived like a private person in a Sedan chair he made the return journey like a Prince.
Cheers filled the air. Everyone was tired of the quarrel which had been so diverting in the first place.
En route he met the Princess in her chair on her way to the Palace to see Anne.
When Caroline saw his chair she called to her chairmen to halt. For a few terrible seconds she thought that he had been summoned to the Palace because Anne was worse.
She alighted; so did the Prince.
"All's veil," he cried. "The King and I are friends again."
"And Anne...."
"I have seen her. I have seen the children. They are veil ... and Anne is not so ill as they thought. All is veil now, my tear."
He embraced her to the cheers of the people.
The following day Caroline went along to St. James's to make her peace with the King and was granted an interview. Before seeing the King she went to Anne who was well enough to be overjoyed by her mother's presence.
"Good news, my darling," said Caroline. "Your father and the King are now friends and we are all to be together again."
Anne clung to her mother's hand and her expression betrayed how happy she was.
After that Caroline went to Amelia and Caroline and taking Caroline on to her lap while she held Amelia in the crook of her arm she explained to them that the trouble was over, their father and grandfather were now good friends, and as a result they would live together under one roof and as one family.
"Now," said Amelia, "we shall no longer live like charity girls."
Caroline kissed them tenderly; and went along to the King's apartments for the promised interview.
George received her coldly—but she had not expected anything else.
He told her that he was glad George Augustus had come to his senses and that he would never have had any quarrel with her if she had not supported her husband.
"I am sure Your Majesty would not have expected anything else from a good wife."
"No, but I expect a good subject to obey her King."
"So would I do in all things," she answered, "but in disobeying the wishes of my husband."
George grunted.
"Well now you can please us both, for your husband repents of his conduct and has regained his status."
"I rejoice in Your Majesty's good favour."
He grunted again.
"I have told the children," she said. "They love you but they will naturally be pleased to be back with their parents."
The King looked startled. "That matter remains as before."
Caroline was astounded. "I do not understand, Your Majesty."
He looked at her grimly. "There is to be no change," he said. "My grandchildren stay under my care."
"No..." she began.
He had turned away but she saw the triumph in his eyes and the grim determination of his lips.
"Frederick is to remain in Hanover," she began indignantly. "The girls..."
"Frederick to remain in Hanover," he said, "and the girls will continue as before."
"I understood ..."
"You misunderstood," said the King.
She was crying; she could not stop the tears, crying with frustration, rage and an infinite sorrow.
She had been cheated. The Prince and Walpole had gone behind her back. They had settled without her; and the one condition she had insisted on had been thrust aside.
There was no victory. The King, the Prince ... and Walpole had outwitted her.
The Bubble
The King was away on yet another visit to Hanover when panic struck London.
All through the year people of all kinds—the nobility and the poorest in the land—had been excited by the South Sea Trading Company, through which it was believed fortunes could be made in a few days. So busy was the Stock Exchange that desks had to be set up for clerks in the street to cope with all the business, for anyone who had any money was eager to invest it. People dreamed of riches, talked of riches, and many became rich.
It was there for everyone to see; those who had never dreamed of owning a carriage now had three or four. Humble merchants became millionaires. It was not only humble merchants; it was cabinet ministers, members of the nobility, the King's German mistresses—the Prince himself. Everyone was determined to grow rich through the exploitation of the South Seas. It was as though a fever was raging through the country— a fever of excitement, and to become rich quickly was the aim of every man and woman.
Stock worth one hundred today could be worth a thousand tomorrow so great was the demand for it.
So popular was the South Seas company that many other companies were floated. No project was too absurd to float a company; and still people rushed into them, eager to invest the guinea that they were convinced would miraculously turn to ten within the space of a few weeks.
Such a state of affairs must come to an end. The South Sea Company, knowing that its methods were being imitated by companies which had nothing at all to offer, decided to expose them; this it did and no sooner had the enquiries begun than fraud was exposed and the panic began to set in. The dream was evaporating; but in uncovering the fraudulent dealings of others the South Sea Company had exposed its own vulnerability.
It was a genuine trading company, but so far on no sound financial basis, and as soon as the panic stricken investors began to back out the company itself collapsed. Shares consequently tumbled in price and investors saw not only their dreams disappearing but their original investments.
The scenes on the stock exchange were such as were never seen before. Ruined men gathered on the streets; they were too bewildered at first to understand what had happened to them. Then they began to cry out that they had been the victims of a hoax. There were no big fortunes to be made. Instead of being millionaires they were paupers.