Indisposition of the Queen--Her anxiety to conceal the cause--Walpole closeted with her--Her illness assumes a grave character--Obliged to retire from the Drawing-room--Affectionate attentions of Princess Caroline--Continued bitter feeling towards the Prince--Discussions of the physicians--Queen takes leave of the Duke of Cumberland--Parting scene with the King--Interview with Walpole--The Prince denied the palace--Great patience of the Queen--The Archbishop summoned to the palace--Eulogy on the Queen pronounced by the King--His oddities--The Queen’s exemplary conduct--Her death--Terror of Dr. Hulse--Singular conduct of the King--Opposition to Sir R. Walpole--Lord Chesterfield pays court to the Prince’s favourite. After the birth of the Princess Louisa, on the 12th of December, 1724, Caroline, then Princess of Wales, was more than ordinarily indisposed. Her indisposition was of such a nature that, though she had made no allusion to it herself, her husband spoke to her on the subject. The princess avoided entering upon a discussion, and sought to satisfy the prince by remarking that her indisposition was nothing more than what was common to her health, position, and circumstances. For some years, although the symptoms were neglected, the disease was not aggravated. At length more serious indications were so perceptible to George, who was now King, that he did not conceal his opinion that she was suffering from rupture. This opinion she combated with great energy, for she had a rooted aversion to its being supposed that she was afflicted with any complaint. She feared lest the fact, being known, might lose her some of her husband’s regard, or lead people to think that with personal infirmity her power over him had been weakened. The King again and again urged her to acknowledge that she suffered from the complaint he had named, and to have medical advice on the subject. Again and again she refused, and each time with renewed expressions of displeasure; until at last, the King, contenting himself with expressing a hope that she would not have to repent of her obstinacy, made her a promise never to allude to the subject again without her consent. The secret, however, was necessarily known to others also; and we can only wonder that, being so known, more active and effective measures were not taken to remedy an evil which, in our days, at least, formidable as it may appear in name, is so successfully treated as almost to deserve no more serious appellation than a mere inconvenience.