‘Many rejoiced,’ writes Mrs. Scott, the sister of Elizabeth Montagu, ‘but none more than those who have been detained all this hot weather in town to be present at the ceremony. Among them, no one was more impatient than the chancellor, who, not considering any part of the affair as a point of law, thought his presence very unnecessary. His lordship and the archbishop must have had a fatiguing office; for, as she was brought to bed at seven in the morning, they must have attended all night, for fear they should be absent at the critical moment. I wish they were not too much out of humour before the prince was born to be able to welcome it properly.’ The royal christening will be, however, of more interest than details of the birth of the prince. The ceremony was performed in the grand council chamber, the Archbishop of Canterbury--‘the right rev. midwife, Thomas Secker,’ as Walpole calls him--officiating. Walpole, describing the scene, on the day after, says: ‘Our next monarch was christened, last night, George Augustus Frederick. The Princess (Dowager of Wales), the Duke of Cumberland, and the Duke of Mecklenburgh, sponsors. The Queen’s bed, magnificent and, they say, in taste, was placed in the drawing-room; though she is not to see company in form, yet it looks as if they had intended people should have been there, as all who presented themselves were admitted, which were very few, for it had not been notified; I suppose to prevent too great a crowd. All I have heard named, besides those in waiting, were the Duchess of Queensberry, Lady Dalkeith, Mrs. Grenville, and about four other ladies.’ It was precisely at the period of the christening of this royal babe that the marriage of her who was to be the mother of his future wife was first publicly spoken of. In September Walpole expresses a hope to his friend Conway that the hereditary Prince of Brunswick is ‘recovering of the wound in his loins, for they say he is to marry the Princess Augusta.’ Walpole, however, would have nothing to do with the new Prince of Wales. ‘With _him_,’ he says, ‘I am positive never to occupy myself. I kissed the hand of his great-great-grandfather; would it not be preposterous to tap a volume of future history, of which I can never see but the first pages?’