ulgar, sensual, and
entirely selfish. His son, Frederick, Prince of Wales, on the other
hand, hated his mother. He loved neither of his parents: but the queen
had the preeminence in his aversion.

The king, during the year 1736, was at Hanover. His return was
announced, but under circumstances of danger. A tremendous storm arose
just as he was prepared to embark at Helvoetsluys. All London was on the
look out, weather-cocks were watched; tides, winds, and moons formed the
only subjects of conversation; but no one of his majesty's subjects was
so demonstrative as the Prince of Wales, and his cheerfulness, and his
triumph even, on the occasion, were of course resentfully heard of by
the queen.

During the storm, when anxiety had almost amounted to fever, Lord Hervey
dined with Sir Robert Walpole. Their conversation naturally turned on
the state of affairs, prospectively. Sir Robert called the prince a
'poor, weak, irresolute, false, lying, contemptible wretch.' Lord Hervey
did not defend him, but suggested that Frederick, in case of his
father's death, might be more influenced by the queen than he had
hitherto been. 'Zounds, my lord!' interrupted Sir Robert, 'he would tear
the flesh off her bones with red-hot irons sooner! The distinctions she
shows to you, too, I believe, would not be forgotten. Then the notion he
has of his great riches, and the desire he has of fingering them, would
make him pinch her, and pinch her again, in order to make her buy her
ease, till she had not a groat left.'

What a picture of a heartless and selfish character! The next day the
queen sent for Lord Hervey, to ask him if he knew the particulars of a
great dinner which the prince had given to the lord mayor the previous
day, whilst the whole country, and the court in particular, was
trembling for the safety of the king, his father. Lord Hervey told her
that the prince's speech at the dinner was the most ingratiating piece
of popularity ever heard; the healths, of course, as usual. 'Heavens!'
cried the queen: 'popularity always makes me sick, but _Fritz's_
popularity makes me vomit! I hear that yesterday, on the prince's side
of the House, they talked of the king's being cast away with the same
_sang froid_ as you would talk of an overturn; and that my good son
strutted about as if he had been already king. Did you mark the airs
with which he came into my drawing-room in the morning? though he does
not think fit to honour me with his prese