surely becomes those who have the power to support me in substantiating those just claims I have for the very extensive losses and privations I have experienced, during the very long period of my professional servitude in the Colonies; and if this is not attainable, it is A clear proof to me that they are they are not appreciated; and under that impression I shall not scruple, in due time, to resume my retirement abroad, when the Duchess and myself shall have fulfilled our duties in establishing the English birth of my child, and giving it material nutriment on the soil of Old England; and which we shall certainly repeat, if Providence destines, to give us any further increase of family.”

In the meantime, he decided to spend the winter at Sidmouth, “in order,” he told Owen, “that the Duchess may have the benefit of tepid sea bathing, and our infant that of sea air, on the fine coast of Devonshire, during the months of the year that are so odious in London.”  In December the move was made.  With the new year, the Duke remembered another prophecy.  In 1820, a fortune-teller had told him, two members of the Royal Family would die.  Who would they be?  He speculated on the various possibilities:  The King, it was plain, could not live much longer; and the Duchess of York had been attacked by a mortal disease.  Probably it would be the King and the Duchess of York; or perhaps the King and the Duke of York; or the King and the Regent.  He himself was one of the healthiest men in England.  “My brothers,” he declared, “are not so strong as I am; I have lived a regular life.  I shall outlive them all.  The crown will come to me and my children.”  He went out for a walk, and got his feet wet.  On coming home, he neglected to change his stockings.  He caught cold, inflammation of the lungs set in, and on January 22 he was a dying man.  By a curious chance, young Dr. Stockmar was staying in the house at the time; two years before, he had stood by the death-bed of the Princess Charlotte; and now he was watching the Duke of Kent in his agony.  On Stockmar’s advice, a will was hastily prepared.  The Duke’s earthly possessions were of a negative character; but it was important that the guardianship of the unwitting child, whose fortunes were now so strangely changing, should be assured to the Duchess.  The Duke was just able to understand the document, and to append his signature.  Having inquired whether his writing was perfectly clear, he became unconscious, and breathed his last on the following morning!  Six days later came the fulfilment of the second half of the gipsy’s prophecy.  The long, unhappy, and inglorious life of George the Third of England was ended.

II