Youth, folly, and indiscretion, the beauty of the young lady, and a large sum of ready money, might have offered something like a plea for so rash a marriage, had it taken place; but what could excuse, what indeed could provoke, the senseless and barbarous insult offered to the King and Queen, by Frederick’s taking his wife out of the palace of Hampton Court in the middle of the night, when she was in actual labour, and carrying her, at the imminent risk of the lives of her and the child, to the unaired palace and bed at St. James’s?  Had he no way of affronting his parents but by venturing to kill his wife and the heir of the crown?  A baby that wounds itself to vex its nurse is no more void of reflection.  The scene which commenced by unfeeling idiotism closed with paltry hypocrisy.  The Queen on the first notice of her son’s exploits, set out for St. James’s to visit the Princess by seven in the morning.  The gracious Prince, so far from attempting an apology, spoke not a word to his mother; but on her retreat gave her his hand, led her into the street to her coach-still dumb!-but a crowd being assembled at the gate, he kneeled down in the dirt, and humbly kissed her Majesty’s hand.  Her indignation must have shrunk into contempt.

After the death of the Queen, Lady Yarmouth (117) came over, who had been the King’s mistress at Hanover during his latter journeys-and with the Queen’s privity, for he always made her the of his amours; which made Mrs. Selwyn once tell him, he should be the last man with whom she would have an intrigue, for she knew he would tell the Queen.  In his letters to the latter from Hanover, he said, “You must love the Walmoden, for she loves me.”  She was created a countess, and had much weight with him; but never employed her credit but to assist his ministers, or to convert some honours and favours to her own advantage.  She had two sons, who both bore her husband’s name; but the younger, though never acknowledged, was supposed the King’s, and consequently did not miss additional homage from the courtiers.  That incense being one of the recommendations to the countenance of Lady Yarmouth, drew Lord Chesterfield into a ridiculous distress.  On his being made secretary of state, be found a fair young lad in the antechamber at St. James’s, -who seeming much at home, the earl, concluding it was the mistress’s son, was profuse of attentions to the boy, and more prodigal still of his prodigious regard for his mamma.  The shrewd boy received all his lordship’s vows with indulgence, and without betraying himself:  at last he said, “I suppose your lordship takes me for Master Louis; but I am only Sir William Russel, one of the pages.”

The King’s last years passed as regularly as clockwork.  At nine at night he had cards in the apartment of his daughters, the Princesses Amelia and Caroline, with Lady Yarmouth, two or three of the late Queen’s ladies, and as many of the most favoured officers of his own household.  Every Saturday in summer he carried that uniform party, but without his daughters, to dine at Richmond:  they went in coaches and six in the middle of the day , with the heavy horse-guards kicking up the dust before them-dined, walked an hour in the garden, returned in the same dusty parade; and his Majesty fancied himself the most gallant and lively prince in Europe.