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 ...’

‘Your Majesty, there is every reason....’

‘I see none. I see none.’

Walpole left the King in disgust and dismay; he knew that he had to be brought round to his point of view.

The Prince was not entirely downcast to have lost the support of the Commons, for his friends, led by Chesterfield, promised to bring up the matter in the House of Lords; this they did and although here they were defeated again it was by a small majority and it became clear that public opinion was on the side of the Prince.

Walpole enlisted the support of his ministers to force the King to keep to his bargain and make the allowance he had promised.

The King was furious. ‘The motion has been defeated by the Parliament,’ he insisted.

‘But only, Your Majesty, because of your promise to meet the Prince half way.’

‘Half way! Half way! ‘ cried the King. ‘That is it, this government is too half-hearted.’

The Queen, who to Walpole’s surprise was not on his side, added her voice to the King’s and murmured that if the Whigs could be so little depended on, it might be time to see what the Tories could do.

This shook Walpole, because his majority in the house was so small and he knew that it would take very little to bring him to defeat, and that would mean the defeat of the Whigs, and a Tory ministry.

Moreover he knew that Lady Sundon’s influence with the Queen was growing stronger, and Lady Sundon had always been his enemy.

Lord Hervey, Heaven knew, was deep in her confidence, but Walpole believed Lady Sundon had some hold over the Queen which even Hervey knew nothing about.

It was an anxious time. And of course soon they would be hearing that the King wanted to go to Hanover, for although he did not mention Madame de Walmoden, he was still writing to her; and Walpole had reason to believe that he was as much enthralled as ever by that woman.

In fact the Queen had no intention of breaking her alliance with Walpole. She respected and admired him too much; but she thought there was no harm done in letting him believe that unless he supported her and the King with all his power she was dissatisfied with him.

‘There is one good thing which has come out of this trouble with the Prince,’ said Walpole to her one day.

‘I can see nothing good in anything the Prince does,’ replied Caroline.

‘He is restive; he is ready to take strong action should the opportunity be offered to him.’

‘What opportunity?’

‘If the King should go to Hanover. I foresee fatal consequences if the King left the country at this time.’