“This,” raved his Majesty, when he received it, “is like one of the scoundrel’s tricks,” and he forthwith sent the following kind answer to his son’s message—written at the suggestion of Lord Hervey, and probably at his dictation also—per Lord North, to whom Lord Hervey read it from the paper, to prevent any of “Cartouche’s Gang,” as the Queen called her son’s party, from garbling it. The message was as follows:—
“I have acquainted the King with the message sent to Lady Pembroke, and his Majesty has ordered me to say that in the present situation and circumstances his Majesty does not think fit that the Prince should see the Queen, and therefore expects that he should not come to St. James’s.”
This was considered far too mild by the King.
But the state of the Queen’s mind towards her son, even at this unfortunate time, may be gauged by the following incident:
On this Friday afternoon she asked the King whether “The Griff” had sent to ask to see her. “But sooner or later,” she continued, “I am sure we shall be plagued with some message of that kind, because he will think it will have a good air in the world to ask to see me; and perhaps hopes I shall be fool enough to let him come, and give him the pleasure to see the last breath go out of my body, by which means he would have the joy of knowing I was dead five minutes sooner than he could know it in Pall Mall.”
Fine sentiments these, for a mother on her death bed to hold towards her eldest son!
But the whole of this Friday the Queen grew worse hour by hour. But it was on Saturday that the true nature of her illness was discovered, and this by a hint given to Ranby, the Court Surgeon by the King, who then, for the first time, stated that he believed the Queen was suffering from an umbilical rupture, incurred at the birth of Princess Louisa thirteen years before. Incredible as it appears, there is not a question of a doubt but that the Queen had concealed this rupture for all those years simply and solely because if the knowledge of this ailment was bruited about, it would tend to render her objectionable to the King—though it appears he was aware of it—and that she would have died rather than disclose it.
Her motive was plainly jealousy of his mistresses.
However, once the hint was given, Ranby, the Surgeon, would not be denied, and insisted on an examination, which she strove by every means in her power to avoid.
When this had been conducted and Ranby was whispering to the King in a corner, she started up in bed: