Having mentioned Lord Hervey, we must tell how he stood at court. He was a great favorite with Queen Caroline, and, being many years younger than she, he was called "her child, her pupil, her charge." He generally rode by her carriage when she went hunting, on a horse that she had given him, and on such occasions they discussed politics and other matters. Hervey was treated like a pet child, and allowed to say what would have been regarded as impertinence coming from any one else; but Queen Caroline encouraged him by laughing at him, and kept him with her as much as possible. He always sat and talked to her while she ate breakfast, and presumed to give her advice on every conceivable subject, often flatly contradicting her, whereupon she would good naturedly declare that he took such liberties because he knew she could not possibly live without him. It is to the memoirs left by this lord that we are indebted for our knowledge of much of the private life of Queen Caroline. A letter which he addressed to her one summer when he was visiting at some distance in the country will give the best idea of the nature of his position in the royal household. He begins by imagining that he died on the day he left the queen, and proceeds to recount how he serves her in spirit:—"On Monday, whilst you walked, my shade turned on the side of the sun to guard you from its beams.
"On Tuesday morning, at breakfast, I brushed away a fly that was just going to taste your chocolate.
"On Wednesday, in the afternoon, I took off the chilliness of some strawberry-water your majesty was going to drink, as you came in hot from, walking; and at night I hunted a bat out of your bed-chamber, and shut a sash just as you fell asleep, which your majesty had indiscreetly ordered Mrs. Purcel to leave open.
"On Thursday, in the drawing-room, I took the forms and voices of several of my acquaintances, made strange faces, put myself into awkward postures, and talked a good deal of nonsense, whilst your majesty entertained me very gravely, recommended me very graciously, and laughed at me internally very heartily.
"On Friday, being-post day, I proposed to get the best pen in the other world for your majesty's use, and slip it invisibly into your portfolio just as Mr. Shaw was bringing it into your gallery for you to write; and accordingly I went to Voiture, and desired him to hand me his pen; but when I told him for whom it was designed, he only laughed at me for a blockhead, and asked me if I had been at court for four years to so little purpose as not to know that your majesty had a much better of your own.
"On Saturday, I went on the shaft of your majesty's chaise to Richmond; as you walked there I went before you, and with an invisible wand I brushed the dew and the worms out of your path all the way, and several times uncrumpled your majesty's stocking.
"Sunday—This very day, at chapel, I did your majesty some service, by tearing six leaves out of the parson's sermon, and shortening his discourse six minutes."
If Queen Caroline's young friend really performed such varied and such important services for her, she must have missed him, indeed, when he was absent from home. He gives an instance, in his memoirs, of how much Queen Caroline endured for the sake of her husband, in these words: "She works harder than any of the court drudges in one respect, for she passes seven or eight hours tête-à-tête with the king every day, generally saying what she does not think, and forced, like a spider, to spin out of her own bowels all the conversation with which the fly is taken."
The queen's health was undoubtedly poor at this time; but in spite of that, after an acute attack of cold and fever, for which she had twice been bled, George insisted on her going from Kensington to London to celebrate his birthday, and made her accompany him to the opera the same night. To be sure, this was not so inconsiderate as it appears; for George II. thought so little of illness himself that he would rise from a sick-bed to hold a levee when he could scarcely keep up his head, and go back as soon as it was over. He did not see why his wife should not sacrifice herself as he did. She came very near swooning on the morning of the birthday drawing-room, and sent one of her attendants to beg the king to retire, saying: "That she was unable to stand any longer;" but, for all that, he obliged her to attend a crowded ball in the evening, and kept her there until after eleven o'clock.
Sir Robert Walpole urged Queen Caroline to take care of herself, assuring her that England would fall into great danger if deprived of her presence, and addressing her as though she was the governing sovereign,—which she was in fact, though not in name.