(A.D. 1683-1737.)
|Caroline of Anspach, whose name appears in full in the heading of this
reign, was a highly accomplished young lady. This was due partly to her
excellent training and careful education, and partly to her naturally
quick, inquiring mind; for she learned easily, seldom forgot anything
worth remembering, and was a good judge of books and people. She loved
philosophical studies, yet she was not at all pedantic. She was lively,
witty, an excellent conversationist, and spoke several languages
fluently.
Her father died when she was still a child, and her mother marrying
again not long afterwards, the young girl went to live with her
guardians, the King and Queen of Prussia. This queen was the sister of
George I., and daughter of Sophia Charlotte, Electress of Bradenburg,
mentioned in the last reign. Caroline was fortunate in falling into the
hands of so good and sensible a lady, to whom she was indebted for the
formation of certain traits that made her remarkable when she grew to
womanhood.
Caroline was born in the year 1683, and spent her childhood at the court
of Berlin, where she pursued her studies with little interruption. When
she was about twenty-one years of age an embassy was sent from Lisbon to
demand her hand in marriage for King Charles of Spain, who had seen her
a short time before. Religion prevented this
{061}
[Illustration: 0067]
{063}union; for Charles was a Catholic, and the Princess of Anspach
refused him on that account. Even the prospect of filling so lofty a
position as that of Queen of Spain was not so dazzling as to tempt her
to renounce her Protestant faith.
[[A.D. 1705.]] Shortly after she became the wife of the Electoral Prince
of Hanover, and then it was said that heaven had especially reserved her
to make Great Britain happy. But that was looking ahead, for she did not
become queen until many years had elapsed.
[[A.D. 1715.]] Caroline went to England, as Princess of Wales, a little
while after her father-in-law, George I., ascended the throne. Her two
daughters, Anne and Caroline Elizabeth, accompanied her; but the only
son she had at that time, whose name was Frederick Louis, remained in
Germany. We shall have more to say about these children as well as those
that were born in England, hereafter.
George I. never loved his son, the Prince of Wales, and always
designated the princess as "that she-devil." This was because she was
high-spirited and had a will of her own; not that she was disrespectful,
but George was unamiable, and had little respect for women, particularly
for those who possessed brains.
[[A.D. 1717.]] When the Prince and Princess of Wales were ordered to
withdraw from St. James's Palace, they established a home of their own
at Leicester House, where their court was noted for its brilliancy. It
was made up of the most promising men and the prettiest and liveliest
women of the day. The apartments of the bed-chamber ladies became the
resort of the noted wits and beaux, who would congregate of an evening
for conversation and all sorts of gay amusements.
Among these were Lord Chesterfield, Lord Scarborough, Lord Hervey,
Charles Churchill, and many others. The {064}principal ladies were Lady
Hervey, Lady Walpole, Mrs. Selwyn, Mrs. Howard, Mrs. Clayton, and Miss
Bellenden. Three of these must each have a separate paragraph in order
to introduce them properly; and, as they will appeal (at least two of
them) frequently throughout this reign, they ought to be known.
To begin then with the liveliest, most beautiful, most charming,--Miss
Bellenden. She was one of the maids-of-honor, and such a fascinating
creature that the Prince of Wales was early attracted towards her, and
very much inclined to flirt. Perhaps he dreamed of a left-hand marriage,
but the lady did not, and saw nothing to admire in the fair-haired
little prince. It was Colonel John Campbell who won her heart and
married her, without ever consulting the Prince of Wales, who was so
indignant that he never forgave Miss Bellenden. It is probable she never
asked to be forgiven, seeing that she had done no wrong.
Mrs. Howard was a daughter of Sir Henry Hobart, a Knight of the Bath.
Early in life she married Mr. Howard, who became, by the death of his
older brothers, Earl of Suffolk. When this marriage took place the young
couple had very little money; and, seeing no chance of improving their
fortunes at the court of Queen Anne, they went over to Hanover, where
they were kindly welcomed by the Electress Sophia.
Once this pair of adventurers were very anxious to entertain the
Hanoverian minister; but how could they do so when they had no money?
Mrs. Howard's mother-wit helped them out of the dilemma in this way. It
was an era when full-bottomed wigs were worn, each of which cost from
twenty to thirty guineas, and often perplexed barbers to know where
to turn for all the material they needed. So Mrs. Howard, who had a
splendid head of light-brown hair, decided to sell it. The sacrifice
enabled her to win {065}the good graces of the minister and his
half-dozen secretaries, through the instrumentality of a good dinner,
and gratified her ambition by securing for her a position in the
Princess of Wales's household. Mrs. Howard was a woman of medium height,
well-formed, and extremely fair; her features were regular, and she
was generally considered very pretty, though not beautiful. She always
dressed with the simplicity that good taste prompts; but the most
remarkable feature about her was, that at the age of seventy-nine she
was still good-looking, and her eyes still preserved the mild, grave
expression that characterized them in her youth. Her husband, who was a
gambler and a drunkard, left her as soon as she was fairly established
in the royal household.
Mrs. Clayton, another lady of the bed-chamber, was a _protégé_ of
the Duchess of Marlborough, through whose influence she obtained her
position. She was of humble birth, but married Sir Robert Clayton, one
of the managers of the Marlborough estate, in the duke's absence. She
was a woman of some accomplishments, ordinary intelligence, and very bad
temper, which often led her to make remarks which had better have been
left unsaid. Mrs. Howard and she were bitter enemies always, and hated
each other intensely. This may have been, in part, owing to the fact
that Mrs. Clayton had considerable influence with Caroline, and thereby
excited the envy of the other lady. It was her duty to introduce works
of merit or petitions for relief. She acted as mediator between Caroline
and those who desired favors of any description; consequently, she was
flattered on all sides by various classes of people, who were very apt
to exaggerate her power when seeking her good offices.
The Princess of Wales desired popularity above all things, and for that
reason presided over the round of {066}pleasures, and set the fashions
at her court. Every morning she held a reception or drawing-room, as it
was called; and on two evenings in the week there was a reunion in her
apartments, which gradually increased in dimensions until they became
crowded balls, or masquerades. On other evenings the fashionable world
attended plays and operas. This gayety was carried on at Leicester
House, but for an occasional repose Caroline would retire to Richmond
Lodge, her country retreat.
There was one person at court with whom Caroline was frequently at odds.
That was Lord Chesterfield, gentleman of the bed-chamber to the prince.
Dr. Johnson said of him, "that he was a wit among lords, but a lord
among wits." He possessed an uncontrollable desire to turn the princess
into ridicule, and some amiable friend early informed her of it. She
did not desire to quarrel, because at that period it was her policy to
retain as many friends for her husband as possible; but she told Lord
Chesterfield, half in jest and half in earnest, that he had better not
provoke her, for although he had a witty tongue she had a bitter one,
and would pay him back with interest whatever debt he put upon her.
The noble lord was not above "fibbing," and declared that he would not
presume to ridicule the princess; but no sooner was her back turned than
he would mimic her, and make everybody laugh at her expense.
Caroline had, as she said, a bitter tongue, and could say sharp things
when she chose, but she knew how to control herself. This is shown by
the way she managed her husband, for she ruled in seeming to obey, and
he never suspected it. She could even laugh heartily at him without
hurting his feelings, for her tact always led her to say something that
would excite his laughter at the same time.
When the Prince and Princess of Wales were driven from {067}St. James's
Palace by the king; they were not permitted to take their daughters with
them, and the son, who was the innocent cause of the quarrel, died three
months later. Frederick, their eldest son, was an object of dislike
to both parents, and was therefore left in Hanover when they went to
England. Frederick was noted as a child for his cunning and his spiteful
disposition. He disliked all kinds of study, and made very little
progress in consequence. At an early age he drank, gambled, and
gave every evidence of having a vicious character. When his governor
complained, Caroline, who cared too little for him to correct him
properly, said that his were only boy's tricks. "Would to heaven they
were no more!" exclaimed the worthy governor, "but in truth they are the
tricks of scoundrels."
Though this prince was not allowed to appear in England before his
father ascended the throne, a title or two was sent over to him
merely to prove that he was not forgotten. Thus he was created Duke
of Gloucester, Knight of the Garter, and in 1726 he became Duke of
Edinburgh.
[[A.D. 1721]]. In 1721 the Princess of Wales had a son who was
christened William Augustus. Later he was created Duke of Cumberland,
and was so much more beloved by his parents than Frederick was that they
were desirous of securing the throne of England to him, and making over
the electorate of Hanover to Frederick, but the law would not permit
that exchange.
We must not omit to mention a circumstance of the utmost importance that
took place at this period. Lady Mary Wortley Montague had just returned
from Constantinople, where she had witnessed inoculation for small-pox,
and reported the successful results. Dr. Mead was ordered by the prince
to try the experiment on six criminals who had been condemned to death,
but whose lives were spared for this purpose. The success was so satis-
{068}factory that Caroline ordered her two daughters to be inoculated
during the following year. If we recall how this dreadful disease
attacked numerous members of the royal family during the previous
century, we will understand the blessing of this discovery. But it
was reserved for Dr. Jenner to discover vaccination, which he did by a
merely accidental observation some years later. This circumstance is so
well known that it is unnecessary to relate it.
[[A. D. 1727.]] Now we come to a most important period of this history,
when the Princess of Wales becomes Queen of England. It was on the
afternoon of June 14, 1727, that Sir Robert Walpole, the prime minister,
received intelligence of the death of George I., and hastened to do
homage to the new sovereigns, George and Caroline. On that occasion he
asked who would be selected to draw up the usual address to the privy
council, no doubt thinking it would be himself. George II. named Sir
Spenser Compton, speaker of the House of Commons.
That was a polite way of informing Sir Robert that he was dismissed. He
was, of course, by no means pleased, but showed no resentment toward his
successor, because he was not narrow-minded enough for that; besides, he
knew that Sir Spenser was incompetent, and said to a friend who was also
turned out of office: "I shall go out; but let me advise you not to go
into violent opposition, as we must soon come in again."
The fact is that Sir Robert had very unwisely offended the queen when
she was Princess of Wales by speaking of her as "that fat beast, the
prince's wife." Nevertheless, he was determined, if possible, to retain
his position, and knowing the queen's influence over her husband, it
was through her that he decided to manage it. So he ascertained that Sir
Spenser Compton intended to propose to
{069}
[Illustration: 0075]
{071}parliament an allowance of sixty thousand pounds per annum for the
queen, and then informed her, through a friend, that if he were retained
in office he should make it one hundred thousand pounds.
Caroline was delighted, and intimated that Sir Robert might be sure "the
fat beast" had kindly feeling enough towards him to induce her to secure
for herself the extra forty thousand pounds; so she hastened to the
king, and pointed out to him the advantages of retaining in office so
able a man as Sir Robert, and the utter incompetency of Compton.
The king was soon convinced, Sir Robert was reappointed prime minister,
and Sir Spenser was made president of the council. Not only did
Sir Robert secure the promised sum for the queen, but he persuaded
parliament to add a hundred and thirty thousand pounds a year to the
king's revenue besides. This made him a most popular officer with the
royal couple, of course.
At the queen's first drawing-room, before the office of prime minister
had been decided upon, Lady Walpole was among the guests; but as her
husband was not supposed to be a candidate for royal favor, nobody made
way for her, as they had done on previous occasions, when he occupied
his lofty position, and she could not approach her majesty nearer than
the third or fourth row. With her usual amiability, Queen Caroline no
sooner espied Lady Walpole, than she said, aloud: "Ah, there I am sure
I see a friend!" Thereupon the crowd made way for the lady, who declared
that, "as she came away, she might have walked over their heads had she
pleased."
When George I. died he left a will which he certainly supposed his
successor would respect; but he made a mistake; for when Dr. Wake,
Archbishop of Canterbury, appeared before the king with the precious
document that {072}had been intrusted to him, and prepared himself to
hear the instructions contained therein, George II. astonished him by
quietly putting the paper in his pocket without looking at it, and then
walking out of the room. Afterwards he dropped it into the fire. This
was only following the example of his sire, who had treated in like
manner the wills of the Duke of Zell and Sophia Dorothea. George I. must
have suspected that his son would imitate him in this matter, for he
left two copies of his will in Germany, but both were in course of time
secured by the son and consigned to the flames, as the original had
been.
When George II. ascended the throne he was very popular, being generally
regarded as a man of honor and integrity. There is little doubt that had
his poor injured mother lived until that time he would have called her
to England, for when Lady Suffolk entered the new queen's room, on
the day after the king died, she was surprised to see the full-length
portrait of a beautiful lady in royal robes, and over the bed in the
adjoining apartment a smaller picture of the same person. These Queen
Caroline told her were portraits of her husband's mother, that had been
kept concealed so long as George I. lived. Who can help regretting that
the poor lonely prisoner of Ahlden did not stay on earth long enough to
enjoy her son's society and affection? It is certain that he loved her a
great deal better than he ever did his father, and very little doubt can
be entertained that it was the knowledge of that fact which increased
the enmity the old king felt towards his son.
The new sovereigns were duly crowned, and every part of the ceremony
was performed on a scale of magnificence that had not been seen for many
years.
Although George II. was a small man, with light hair, he presented a
very dignified appearance in his royal robes, and thoroughly enjoyed the
whole coronation ceremony {073}from beginning to end. At the time of his
father's accession he had said to an English nobleman: "I have not one
drop of blood in my veins which is not English, and at the service of my
father's subjects." He was now to have an opportunity of proving whether
he was sincere when he made that popular remark.
Parliament was surprised when, after assuring them that he was
determined to secure the civil and religious rights of the people,
George II. announced the reappointment of the old ministers, for the
opposition party had flattered themselves that they were to have a
chance under the new sovereign. Even the Duke of Newcastle, in whose
face George had shaken his fist, and whom he had called an "impertinent
fool," when William, Duke of Cumberland, was christened, was retained in
office.
Of course, Sir Robert Walpole had great influence after he had managed
to retain the former officials at their post. He was called the queen's
minister; and it was generally understood that she distinguished those
whom he favored. He knew the importance of Queen Caroline's confidence,
because she was really the ruler of the kingdom. She ruled, but did so
with such exquisite tact that her feebleminded lord never suspected it.
She never spoke to him about public affairs when any one was present,
but if she by chance ventured to do so, when off her guard, a rebuke was
sure to follow. She even went so far as to rise and offer to leave the
room whenever an interview took place between the king and one of his
ministers, and George prided himself upon "being under the control of no
woman." He had lost sight of the fact that it was entirely owing to his
wife's interference that Walpole had been reinstated. After praising the
ability of the minister, the principal argument she had brought forward
was that he was rich enough to be honest, and having no private business
{074}of his own, he would have more time to devote to that of the
government. So George had followed her counsel, as he always did
unconsciously, and when speaking to his courtiers with scorn of
sovereigns who had been controlled by women he would look about, and,
with a pompous air, ask, "Who governs now?" Nobody ventured to enlighten
him as to who did not, but one of the wits answered rather roughly on
paper,--
"You may strut, dapper George, but 'twill all be in vain;
We know't is Queen Caroline, not you that reign--
You govern no more than Don Philip of Spain.
Then, if you would have us fall down and adore you,
Lock up your fat spouse, as your dad did before you."
Queen Caroline never claimed credit for showing her husband the right
course, and she had the rare good sense to see and acknowledge her own
errors. Once she formed a design to shut up St. James's Park for some
reason, and asked Sir Robert Walpole what it would cost to do it.
"Only a crown, madam," was the reply; whereupon she laughed
good-naturedly, and at once abandoned her idea.
George II. had so much respect for his wife's ability, that when he
made a visit to Hanover he appointed her regent during his absence.
Frederick, Prince of Wales, was in the kingdom at the time; but, as he
made no secret of hating both his parents, and favored the party
opposed to them in politics, he was not to be trusted. Besides, he had a
disgraceful way of finding fault with his father's management of public
affairs, and talked loudly of what _he_ would have done in similar
circumstances. But he would certainly have governed less well than his
mother did, for she gave universal satisfaction. She had the benefit of
Sir Robert Walpole's counsel, and understood, as he did, not only how
to let well enough alone, but the wisdom of not interfering with
parliamentary government, and of keeping the nation at peace with its
neighbors. {075}Queen Caroline's mind was not entirely occupied with the
affairs of the nation, for she kept up the brilliancy of her court, and
was greatly interested in everybody connected with it. She took wicked
delight in teasing Mrs. Howard, who was always precise, ladylike, and
self-possessed to a degree that must have been provoking at times.
At an early period of the reign she was required to present the basin
for the queen to wash her hands, and to do so kneeling. A page brought
the pitcher and basin, and placed both upon a table; then it became the
duty of the bed-chamber woman to pour water into the basin, place it
before the queen, and remain on her knees, close by the stand, while
her majesty performed her ablution. Mrs. Howard objected to so humble
an office; but we will let Queen Caroline tell of it in her own words:
"When I requested Mrs. Howard to bring me the basin, she proceeded to
tell me, with her little fierce eyes, and cheeks as red as a beet, that
positively she would not do it; to which I made no answer for a moment,
then spoke calmly, as I would to a naughty child: 'Yes, my dear Howard,
I am sure you will. I know you will. Go,--go; fie! for shame! Go, my
good Howard; we will talk of this another time!' Mrs. Howard did come
round, and I told her I knew we should be good friends again; but that
of all my servants I had least expected such treatment of her."
[[A.D. 1728.]] Queen Caroline also describes a personal interview with
Mr. Howard, who wanted to claim his wife, after having left her for
several years. He said that he should not hesitate to drag his wife out
of her majesty's coach if ever he met her in it. Caroline replied, "Do
it if you dare;" though she added, when relating it afterwards, "I
was horribly afraid of him all the time I was playing the bully,
particularly as I knew him to be brutal, a little mad, and seldom quite
sober; so I got as near to the door {076}as possible, fearing that he
might take it into his head to pitch me out of the window, which was
wide open. Then I resumed my lofty air, and said: 'I would be glad to
see any one who would dare to open my coach door and take out one of my
servants,' though I knew perfectly well that he might do so if he chose,
and nobody could prevent him. Then I told him positively, 'that I would
neither force his wife to go to him if she did not wish, nor keep her
if she did.' He said he would complain to the king. I told him 'the king
had no control over my servants, and he might save himself the trouble,
as I was sure the king would give him no answer, but that it was none of
his business to concern himself with my family'; and after a good deal
more conversation of this sort,--I standing close to the door all the
while, to give me courage,--Mr. Howard and I bade each other _good
morning_, and he withdrew."
[[A.D. 1731.]] Frederick, Prince of Wales, had joined his parents in
England without their desire, and he gave them no pleasure. His vices
increased with age to such a degree that his friends could only excuse
him by declaring that his intellect was weak. Nevertheless, he won.
popularity, and placed himself in course of time at the head of the
opposition party. George II. had no more violent or powerful an enemy
than this son. It was hoped that, if he could get a good wife, he would
improve in his morals, so Sir Charles Hotham was sent to Berlin to
negotiate two marriages. One was between the Prince of Wales and the
eldest daughter of the King of Prussia; the other between the crown
Prince of Prussia and Queen Caroline's second daughter.
Both matches fell through, and so much angry feeling arose that the two
monarchs came near fighting a duel to settle the dispute. George was in
Hanover at the time, and his royal brother-in-law, the King of Prussia,
was at {077}Saltzdahl, near Brunswick. General Sutton was selected to
act as second for George, and Colonel Derscheim for Frederick. Meanwhile
Borck, who had been ambassador from Prussia to the court of St.
James, hastened to Saltzdahl, hoping to be able to put a stop to the
disgraceful affair; but the king was in such a fury that he could not
be open with him. He therefore pretended to approve of the duel, and
offered to be the bearer of the challenge. After that important document
had been duly prepared, the king became somewhat calmer, and then Borck
ventured to reason with him.
"Sire," he said, "I allow that your majesty's quarrel is not to be
terminated any other way than by a duel; but your majesty being just
recovered from a most serious illness, and your health not being yet
by any means reestablished, a relapse may occur on the day before or
perhaps at the very hour of the important meeting; and in that case,
what would the world say? How the King of England would boast? What
scandalous constructions might be put on the circumstance! What an
odious suspicion of your majesty's courage might ensue! Therefore I ask
if you do not think it would be better to take no steps in the affair
for a fortnight?"
Thus was the king talked into delay; the challenge was not sent, and
so the ministers on both sides gained sufficient time to effect a
reconciliation.
[[A.D. 1733.]] The English court was soon busy with another
marriage,--that of Queen Caroline's eldest daughter, the Princess Anne.
This young lady had reached the age of twenty-four, and it was thought
high time for her to be married. When she was not more than sixteen
Louis XV. proposed for her hand; but, being the representative of a
Protestant family, she could not marry him, though she was so proud and
ambitious that she was heard to say, {078}"I would die to-morrow to be
queen to-day." She never loved her brothers, because she felt that
their birth had deprived her of ever ascending the throne, and she often
declared that she wished they had never appeared in the world. As she
could not become a queen, she decided to descend a step, and accept
the hand of the Prince of Orange. She had never seen him, but she was
satisfied to know that his was an exalted station. The king and queen
opposed the royal suitor because he was lame, his neck was crooked, he
was otherwise dreadfully deformed, and he was one of the ugliest men in
Europe. George told his daughter this, and added that she must not be
deceived by the pictures the ambassadors had brought of him, because,
although he was repulsive looking enough in them, they were nevertheless
flattering. "I do not care how ugly he may be," she declared. "If he
were a Dutch baboon I would marry him." This obstinacy made the king
very angry, and he replied with his strong German accent, "Nay, then,
have your way, have your way; you will find baboon enough, I promise
you."
So the Prince of Orange was accepted, and it is to be hoped he never
heard the unkind remarks that the bride's family made behind his
back, for the queen always spoke of him as "the animal," and everybody
ridiculed him. The arrangements for the marriage could not be completed
without application to parliament for a dower. A committee was appointed
to provide one, and they resolved to sell lands in the island of St.
Christopher to the amount of eighty thousand pounds, and to make over
that sum to the king for his eldest daughter. As soon as the bridegroom
was informed that this important matter had been settled, he repaired to
England, and went direct to Somerset House, which had been prepared for
him and his attendants. Princess Anne was not flurried in the least,
{079}when she was informed of his arrival. She was playing on the
harpsichord at the time, and went on as though nothing unusual had
happened. If she felt any curiosity to behold the man she was to marry,
she certainly did not betray it, but appeared remarkably indifferent,
and proved herself an uncommonly strong-minded young woman.
A few days after his arrival in England the Prince of Orange was
attacked with a severe illness, which confined him to his bed for many
weeks. During the whole of that time not a single member of the royal
family went near him, and it seemed to concern Princess Anne very little
to know whether he were well or ill. The prince made no complaint about
this shabby treatment, but his attendants did, and all they made by it
was being called "Dutch boobies." The marriage was to have taken
place before the end of the year, but it had to be postponed until the
following March, and during the interval some of the arrangements that
had been begun had to be left as they stood, half completed. No one was
more annoyed by this postponement than the Duchess of Marlborough, for
an enclosed passage way through which the wedding procession was to
pass had been built up close to the windows of Marlborough House, and
completely darkened the rooms. There it had to stay for four months, and
the duchess frequently looked up at the boards, and said: "I do wish the
princess would oblige me by taking away her _orange_ chest!"
[[A.D. 1734.]] It was January before the bridegroom was well enough to
be removed to Bath, and a couple of months later before his health was
entirely restored. At last, on the fourteenth of March, the marriage was
solemnized at St. James's Chapel by the Bishop of London.
Everything was conducted with great splendor, and the groom was attired
in a complete suit of cloth of gold, in {080}which the royal parents
thought he looked more like a baboon than ever. The bride wore a robe of
silver tissue, with a train six yards long, which was supported by ten
young ladies of noble birth, all dressed in the same gorgeous material.
The ceremony took place in the evening, and was succeeded by a grand
public banquet, the festivities being kept up until long after midnight.
Queen Caroline wept as she walked in the procession through the
brilliantly lighted gallery, and observed the deformed bit of humanity
that her daughter had accepted for a husband. To be sure Anne was by
no means a beauty; but she was a well-developed, fair complexioned,
bright-eyed young woman, though perhaps too stout. But the bridegroom's
ugliness was extraordinary. If you looked at him from behind he appeared
to have no head, and from before, he seemed possessed of neither neck
nor legs; besides, there was something disgusting about him which gave
the idea of uncleanliness,--a very offensive breath. Strange to
say, Anne adored her "monster" after a time, though he never cared
particularly about her. She treated him with the utmost consideration
and respect, addressed all her remarks to him, and applauded whatever he
said. Perhaps she did this to pretend that she was perfectly happy;
but certain it is, that the homage she showed her little husband was
perfectly absurd.
During the week following the marriage Frederick, Prince of Wales, took
it upon himself to show the bridegroom the sights of London; and then
it suddenly struck the government that, as he was now son-in-law to the
king, he ought to be naturalized. Accordingly, the necessary bill
was made out and passed unanimously; but the prince received the
announcement that he had become an Englishman with an indifference that
proved how little he appreciated the honor. It was much more gratifying
to him when he heard that the {081}king had sent a message to the House
of Commons that he had settled five thousand pounds a year on Princess
Anne for life.
The bride and groom set out for Holland on the tenth of April, and
before three months had elapsed Anne was back in England, where
she seemed determined to remain. Neither of her parents desired her
presence; but they could not prevail upon her to return to her new home
until towards the close of the year. Just at that time Queen Caroline
dismissed Lady Suffolk from her office of mistress of the robes, and
appointed the Countess of Tankerville in her stead.
Prince Frederick was very much displeased with his sister for marrying
before he did, but still more so with his father for settling a sum of
money on her when he had not been so favored. The great trouble with him
was that he was heavily in debt; and, out of the hundred thousand pounds
granted to him by parliament, the king allowed him only thirty-six
thousand, appropriating the rest himself. No doubt he allowed the prince
little or much money, according as he behaved well or ill; and this was
certainly humiliating to one of his station.
Her son's conduct was the more painful to Queen Caroline because she was
so kind and considerate of others herself. Here is a little anecdote in
proof of this. One of the princesses had suffered a lady-in-waiting to
stand behind her chair one morning for nearly an hour without the
least occasion; the queen observed this lack of consideration, but said
nothing at the moment. The same evening the princess was made to stand
while reading to her mother until she was well-nigh exhausted; then,
after explaining why she had permitted her to remain in that position
so long, Queen Caroline added: "You are now, my dear, capable of feeling
how improper it is, unnecessarily, {082}to make those who are about
you the victims of etiquette." A lesson so taught was not likely to be
disregarded.
About this time Queen Caroline's mind was occupied with a matter that
caused intense excitement in England. This was Sir Robert Walpole's
excise scheme, which can be explained in a few words. After the civil
war certain articles, such as beer, ale, cider, tea, coffee, wine,
vinegar, tobacco, and sugar, had been subject to duty for the purpose
of supplying the government with money. This was not in favor with the
populace, because it increased the price of such articles as were taxed,
and made the cost of living higher than it had been before. Then certain
tradesmen, rather than pay the duty, organized a system of smuggling,
which was done with the aid of gangs of armed men, who beat, abused,
and even murdered those custom-house officers who insisted on performing
their duty. Walpole organized a plan to prevent the smuggling and the
recurrence of these outrages. It is not necessary to enter into the
details of his scheme, but no sooner was it made public than the
agitation became intense. Taxation in any form was regarded in the light
of tyranny, and the mob that gathered around the doors of the House
of Commons during the fierce debates, which lasted for three weeks,
declared that they would not submit to slavery,--for so it appeared to
them. Walpole's proposition was not really unreasonable at all, but the
populace were driven to madness by pamphlets and ballads distributed
among them by those who desired to further their own personal interests
in one way or another. Riots threatened on all sides, and even the
soldiers, who had got the idea that the minister's excise scheme would
raise the price of tobacco, cursed parliament and the administration,
and murmurs of treason reached to the very palace walls. Bonfires and
illumina-
{083}
[Illustration: 0089]
tions {085}lighted up the towns, and cockades were worn on which was
inscribed, "Liberty, Property, and no Excise." In the city of London the
mob hung Sir Robert Walpole and a _fat woman_, meant to represent the
queen, in effigy.
Feeling that the government was in danger on his account, the prime
minister sought the queen, and offered to surrender his office, but she
would not permit him to do so. Both she and the king declared that they
would not be so cowardly nor so ungrateful as to part with him at such a
crisis. George had often called Walpole hard names, but under his wife's
influence he had learned to love the man whom he had several times
pronounced "a noble fellow" on being told what a firm stand he had made
against the enemies of the government.
Walpole had to withdraw his scheme at last, although he felt sure that
it would have been most beneficial to the interest of the nation; and at
the next meeting of the parliament, when the question of the tax on tea
came up, he declared that he would never again engage in anything that
bore the least resemblance to excise. King George revenged himself by
having the names of the peers who had opposed his minister read to him,
and calling each in turn by some angry epithet. The love that George II.
bore towards Walpole, whom he had begun his reign by thoroughly hating,
is one of the best proofs of Queen Caroline's power over him; but there
are many others besides.
We have seen how much enmity existed between Prince Frederick and the
king. On New Year's Day there was a grand levee held at the palace,
which the prince attended; not because he desired to show proper respect
to his royal parents, but for the purpose of appearing in the light of
an ill-used son, if, as was usually the case, the king refused to speak
to him. He was not to be gratified in this particular however, for Queen
Caroline had persuaded her husband {086}to address Frederick kindly in
public, and he complied! The ill-feeling remained, however, and the
queen always opposed the settlement of an income on her son, whom she
did not hesitate to call an extravagant, unprincipled fool. She thought
him good-hearted, but weak, easily led, and obstinate. It was said of
him that he was more German than English, but so was his mother, for
that matter; and she was ever ready to sacrifice the interests of
England to those of her native land. But Walpole was determined to
preserve peace, though the king told him daily, "that it was with the
sword alone he desired to keep the balance of Europe." This was while
France, Spain, and Germany were at war, and George could not bear to
be left out of the contest; but towards the end of the year he said: "I
have followed your advice, Walpole, in keeping quiet,--contrary often
to my own opinion, and sometimes, I have thought, contrary even to my
honor; but I am convinced you advised me well." It must not be supposed
that George II. spoke English as well as this speech makes him appear
to have done, for he never lost his strong German accent as long as he
lived.
When the Prince of Orange joined his army Princess Anne went to
England on a visit. She was as arrogant as ever, and, like her brother
Frederick, despised her father, of whom she too frequently spoke with
the utmost disrespect. One evening Lord Hervey was escorting her from
the drawing-room to her own apartments;--news of the surrender of
Phillipsburg had just been received. The princess was speaking on this
subject, and then said: Was there ever anything so unaccountable as the
temper of papa? He has been snapping and snubbing every mortal for a
week, because he began to think Phillipsburg would be taken; and this
very day, that he actually hears it is taken, he is in as good humor as
I ever saw him in my life. {087}"To tell you the truth," she added,
in French, though it was quite as disrespectful as though uttered
in German, "I find that so whimsical, and (_entre nous_) so utterly
foolish, that I am more enraged by his good than I was before by his bad
humor."
"Perhaps," answered Lord Hervey, "he may be about Phillipsburg as David
was about the child, who, whilst it was sick, fasted, lay upon the
earth, and covered himself with ashes, but the moment it was dead, got
up, shaved his beard, and drank wine."
"Well, it may be like David," said the princess, "but I am sure it is
not like Solomon."
Having mentioned Lord Hervey, we must tell how he stood at court. He was
a great favorite with Queen Caroline, and, being many years younger than
she, he was called "her child, her pupil, her charge." He generally rode
by her carriage when she went hunting, on a horse that she had given
him, and on such occasions they discussed politics and other matters.
Hervey was treated like a pet child, and allowed to say what would
have been regarded as impertinence coming from any one else; but Queen
Caroline encouraged him by laughing at him, and kept him with her
as much as possible. He always sat and talked to her while she ate
breakfast, and presumed to give her advice on every conceivable subject,
often flatly contradicting her, whereupon she would good naturedly
declare that he took such liberties because he knew she could not
possibly live without him. It is to the memoirs left by this lord that
we are indebted for our knowledge of much of the private life of Queen
Caroline. A letter which he addressed to her one summer when he was
visiting at some distance in the country will give the best idea of the
nature of his position in the royal household. He begins by imagining
that he died on the day he left the queen, and proceeds to recount how
he serves her in spirit:--{088}"On Monday, whilst you walked, my _shade_
turned on the side of the sun to guard you from its beams.
"On Tuesday morning, at breakfast, I brushed away a fly that was just
going to taste your chocolate.
"On Wednesday, in the afternoon, I took off the chilliness of some
strawberry-water your majesty was going to drink, as you came in hot
from, walking; and at night I hunted a bat out of your bed-chamber, and
shut a sash just as you fell asleep, which your majesty had indiscreetly
ordered Mrs. Purcel to leave open.
"On Thursday, in the drawing-room, I took the forms and voices of
several of my acquaintances, made strange faces, put myself into awkward
postures, and talked a good deal of nonsense, whilst your majesty
entertained me very gravely, _recommended_ me very graciously, and
laughed at me internally very heartily.
"On Friday, being-post day, I proposed to get the best pen in the other
world for your majesty's use, and slip it invisibly into your portfolio
just as Mr. Shaw was bringing it into your gallery for you to write; and
accordingly I went to _Voiture_, and desired him to hand me his pen; but
when I told him for whom it was designed, he only laughed at me for
a blockhead, and asked me if I had been at court for four years to so
little purpose as not to know that your majesty had a much better of
your own.
"On Saturday, I went on the shaft of your majesty's chaise to Richmond;
as you walked there I went before you, and with an invisible wand I
brushed the dew and the worms out of your path all the way, and several
times uncrumpled your majesty's stocking.
"Sunday--This very day, at chapel, I did your majesty some service,
by tearing six leaves out of the parson's sermon, and shortening his
discourse six minutes."
If Queen Caroline's young friend really performed such {089}varied and
such important services for her, she must have missed him, indeed, when
he was absent from home. He gives an instance, in his memoirs, of how
much Queen Caroline endured for the sake of her husband, in these words:
"She works harder than any of the court drudges in one respect, for
she passes seven or eight hours _tête-à-tête_ with the king every day,
generally saying what she does not think, and forced, like a spider, to
spin out of her own bowels all the conversation with which the fly is
taken."
The queen's health was undoubtedly poor at this time; but in spite of
that, after an acute attack of cold and fever, for which she had twice
been bled, George insisted on her going from Kensington to London to
celebrate his birthday, and made her accompany him to the opera the
same night. To be sure, this was not so inconsiderate as it appears; for
George II. thought so little of illness himself that he would rise from
a sick-bed to hold a levee when he could scarcely keep up his head, and
go back as soon as it was over. He did not see why his wife should not
sacrifice herself as he did. She came very near swooning on the morning
of the birthday drawing-room, and sent one of her attendants to beg the
king to retire, saying: "That she was unable to stand any longer;" but,
for all that, he obliged her to attend a crowded ball in the evening,
and kept her there until after eleven o'clock.
Sir Robert Walpole urged Queen Caroline to take care of herself,
assuring her that England would fall into great danger if deprived
of her presence, and addressing her as though she was the governing
sovereign,--which she was in fact, though not in name.
[[A.D. 1734.]] When the Bishop of Winchester was stricken with apoplexy,
Lord Hervey announced it to Hoadly, Bishop of Salisbury, and urged him
in the strongest {090}terms to apply for the See, which would surely
be vacant within a few days, because the bishop's attack would without
doubt prove fatal. Now this promotion had been promised to Hoadly by the
king, the queen, and Walpole at various times, and he felt no doubt that
he would get it, but Hervey knew better; so he wrote the bishop to apply
to the king at once through his "two ears"--the queen and Walpole--and
make his request as though it were according to an agreement. Caroline
disliked Hoadly, and pronounced his letter indelicate and ill-timed;
but he had followed Hervey's instructions so accurately that he got the
appointment. When he went to make an acknowledgment of his advancement,
the king, who hated him too, treated him with incivility that was at
least honest; but Caroline showered congratulations and compliments on
him, not one of which was sincere. Walpole did worse, for he hated the
man more than either of the sovereigns did; but, leading the new Bishop
of Winchester aside, he deceitfully pressed his hand, and with warm
congratulations assured him that his elevation was entirely due to the
efforts of himself, Sir Robert. The minister was not aware of the part
Lord Hervey had played, or he would not have said that, and the bishop
did not tell him.
[[A.D. 1735.]] Shortly after this the king set out for Hanover, and
Caroline rejoiced at the extra power his absence would give her,
but still more at the idea of being relieved from the dreary task
of entertaining him for hours at a time. But a few months later he
returned, quite suddenly and unexpectedly. The queen and her court had
just left the chapel at Kensington on Sunday, October 26, when it
was announced that the king was driving up the road. Her majesty went
quickly to the gate, with her ladies and gentlemen, to receive her
husband, who, after condescendingly permitting her to kiss him, led
her up stairs {091}with stately formality. George had returned in a bad
humor, which he took no pains to conceal. Besides, he was ill, and very
much fatigued from travelling, so he conversed with everybody but the
queen, just as though she were to blame for it all. She understood him
perfectly, and knew what a trial it always was to him to leave his
dear Hanover, where he thought everything and everybody perfection as
compared with England. She therefore bore his ill-nature with wonderful
patience, which only seemed to increase the king's crossness and
brutality.
He found fault with everything Queen Caroline had done in his absence;
and, when Lord Hervey ventured to defend her for removing some inferior
pictures and statues and replacing them by works of art, he said:
"I suppose you assisted the queen with your fine advice when she was
pulling my house to pieces and spoiling my furniture. Thank God! at
least she has left the walls standing!" He then ordered that several
old daubs of paintings should be restored to their places before his
departure for London the next day, adding that "otherwise he knew it
would not be done at all."
A night's repose did not restore King George's temper. When he made his
appearance in the queen's morning-room, she was drinking chocolate with
her two daughters, the Princess Amelia and Princess Caroline, while
the Duke of Cumberland, her son, stood at her side. Princess Anne had
returned to Holland some weeks previously, much to the satisfaction of
her parents. The father of the family only stopped in their midst long
enough to tell the queen that she was always stuffing; to scold Princess
Amelia, who was slightly deaf, for not hearing him; to ridicule Princess
Caroline for growing fat, and, finally, to abuse the Duke of Cumberland
for standing awkwardly. Then having made himself thoroughly hateful, he
requested his wife to go for a walk in the garden. {092}In the evening
he was sauntering backwards and forwards in the queen's apartment, while
she was engaged with some fancy work. Presently Lord Hervey entered, and
the queen laughingly began to tease him about an answer that had just
appeared to a book written by his friend, Bishop Hoadly, in which the
bishop was rather roughly handled. Before she had half finished what
she wanted to say, her ill-natured husband interrupted her, and told
her "she was always talking such nonsense about things she did not
understand;" and added, "that if it were not for such foolish people
loving to talk of these things when they were written, the fools who
wrote such nonsense would never think of publishing it." The queen
bowed, and said, "Sir, I only wanted to let Lord Hervey know that
his friend's book had not met with the general approbation he had
pretended."
"A pretty fellow for a friend," said the king, turning to Lord Hervey.
"Pray, what is it that charms you in him? His pretty limping gait?" and
then he mimicked the bishop's lameness, besides other defects, and wound
up by saying: "If the Bishop of Winchester is your friend, all I have
to say is, that you have a great puppy, a very dull fellow, and a very
great rascal for your friend. He is just the same thing in the church
that he is in the government, and as ready to receive the best pay for
preaching the Bible, though he does not believe a word of it, as he is
to take favor from the crown, though he would be glad to abolish its
power." It was dreadful for the king to say such things; for if he did
not think Hoadly a proper person to be at the head of the church, he had
no business to appoint him. The queen kept smiling and nodding her
head all the time he was delivering this most disgraceful, undignified
speech, and wishing with all her heart that he would stop. Lord Hervey
tried to introduce another topic, but that was unfortunate, {093}and
only set his majesty off in a different direction, though he continued
to be equally violent and insulting. At last the queen began to talk of
the custom of feeing servants in private houses where one happened to
be visiting, and said that it had been a great expense to her when she
visited in town during the previous summer. "That is your own fault,"
growled George, "for my father when he went to people's houses in town,
never was fool enough to give away his money."
"But I only gave what my chamberlain, Lord Grantham, informed me was
customary," meekly replied Caroline. "Oh yes," returned George, "always
asking some fool or another what to do; only a fool would ask another
fool's advice. Stay at home, as I do; you do not see me running into
every puppy's house to see his new chairs and tables, and you need not
be poking your nose everywhere, and trotting about wherever you can get
bread and butter." Finding that he could not be sufficiently abusive
with his broken English,--though we think he was,--George had recourse
to German, and poured a torrent of unpronounceable words on the head
of the unoffending queen, who kept on with her work, then snuffed the
candles, and was taken to task for putting one of them out. Such scenes
as this were of frequent occurrence; and the king seemed never so happy
as when he was raving like a madman, and making every one near him
uncomfortable.
Strange as it may seem, English literature began to rise in this reign
from the low state into which it had fallen under George I. Queen
Caroline laughed heartily over the "Travels of Gulliver," in which Swift
ridiculed statesmen, scholars, and men of every class of society. Pope
wrote a satire upon the literature of his time, which he called the
"Dunciad." It created a tremendous uproar among men of letters, and he
was assailed in all the news- {094}papers for having produced such a
work. His personal appearance was ridiculed, too, for he was anything
but prepossessing; and he was represented with a perfect likeness of his
head and face on the body of a repulsive-looking monkey, with its long,
bony arms embracing a huge pile of ponderous volumes. A weekly journal
published this:--
A RECEIPT AGAINST POPE-ISH POETRY.
"Select a wreath of withered bays,
And place it on the brow of Pope;
Then, as reward for stolen lays,
His neck encircle with a rope.
When this is done, his look will show it,
Which he's most like,--a thief or poet."
Besides card-playing and court receptions, there were operas and dramas,
and of these the king and his whole court were very fond. We must give
an account of a funny scene that took place one night at a theatre. John
James Heidegger, was a Swiss, who lived in England and superintended
operas and masquerades. He soon amassed a fortune, and made himself
very popular by devoting part of it to charity. He lived extravagantly,
dressed well, and visited in the best society; but he was so eccentric
that he was occasionally made the victim of practical jokes. Once he was
invited to an entertainment given by the Duke of Montague, and the wine,
of which he drank freely, was drugged so that he soon fell sound asleep.
He was then placed upon a bed, and a cast was taken of his face and made
into a mask. This was done without Heidegger's being aware of it.
The duke then hired a man just the size of the manager, dressed him the
same, put the mask on him, and took him to the next masquerade, when the
king, who had been previously apprised of the plot, was to be present.
As his {095}majesty entered, Heidegger ordered the orchestra to play
"God save the King." No sooner was his back turned than the impostor,
imitating his voice and manner, ordered "Charlie over the Water,"--a
song that referred to Charles Edward, the Pretender, and ought certainly
not to have been played in presence of George. Heidegger was horrified;
he raved and swore at the musicians, and made them recommence the loyal
tune. A few bars of "God save the King" were no sooner performed than
the impostor found an opportunity to again order "Charlie over the
Water." The orchestra thought their master must be drunk, but obeyed.
By this time the house was in a perfect uproar, and cries of "Shame!
shame!" arose from every part of it. The king's officers wanted to kick
the musicians out; but the Duke of Cumberland, who was in the secret,
restrained them.
Heidegger was beside himself with rage and fright, but he came boldly
forward and offered to discharge the band, then and there. The impostor
appeared at his side and said, in a plaintive voice, looking toward the
king: "Sire, the whole fault lies with that devil in my likeness."
That was too much. Poor Heidegger fairly gasped for breath when he gazed
upon his double. He turned pale and stared; astonishment had struck him
dumb. At last, thinking that his joke had been carried far enough,
the Duke of Montague ordered his man to unmask, and the mystery was
explained. Heidegger was in a perfect frenzy; he stamped his feet,
retired from the stage, and fell, in a state of exhaustion, into an
arm-chair, then commanded his servants to extinguish the lights at once,
swearing that he would never again superintend a masquerade until that
mask lay crushed to atoms at his feet.
[[A.D. 1735.]] Queen Caroline had made up her mind that the Prince
of Wales should marry; so, after gaining {096}the king's consent, she
employed Lord Hervey to tell the prince of his intended fate. There was
no princess in view; but the queen spoke about the coming marriage just
as though there was, purchased clothing for the wedding, and ordered
several costly presents for the bride, from various, jewellers. The king
was then in Hanover, and so it was arranged that he was to see Augusta
of Saxe-Gotha, and if he liked her then negotiations for a marriage with
the heir-apparent would be begun. He sent a favorable report a few weeks
later, and Frederick was told to prepare for the reception of his bride.
He received the order with an indifferent sort of resignation, but
obeyed. This gratified the queen, because her son had such contradictory
qualities that he was never to be counted on. There was nothing either
to admire or to hate in him. He was neither great nor vicious, and his
behavior was such that although he gained good wishes, no one esteemed
him, for he was false and deceitful; and it was suspected that
his supremely condescending manners were prompted by a desire for
popularity. His heart was bad; his head was weak; and he was unfortunate
in having a father who abhorred him, a mother who despised him, sisters
who betrayed him, a brother set up against him in public life, and
servants who neglected him, and were incapable of being useful to him.
[[A.D. 1736.]] Lord Delawar was sent to demand the hand of Princess
Augusta from her brother, the Duke of Saxe-Gotha. As the young lady, who
was very bright and pretty, could speak neither English nor French, it
was suggested to her mother that it would be well for her to take a few
lessons in both languages. But as the Hanoverian family had been on
the throne of England for a score of years or more, the Duchess of
Saxe-Gotha concluded that all the people there spoke or understood
German, and {097}would not bother her child to study two languages that
seemed to her not worth the pains spent upon the work.
Prince Frederick showed no desire to seek the lady he was to marry, but
dutifully remarked that "whoever his majesty thought a proper match for
his son would be agreeable to him"; and the princess submitted joyfully
to the custom among the royalty of marrying people they had never seen.
She was willing to go to the prince, since he was not gallant enough to
travel to Germany to win her, and probably rejoiced at the idea of one
day becoming Queen of England. She sailed in the month of April in the
royal yacht "William and Mary," and landed at Greenwich on St. George's
day, twenty-fifth. The bride was just seventeen years of age, and
excited much admiration on account of her graceful, girlish air, her
good humor, and tasteful attire.
She was conducted to the Queen's House in the park, where one would
naturally suppose that all the royal family would assemble to welcome
her; but such was not the case, for there were only the solemn officers
of state and ladies-in-waiting to meet her. The people had gathered in
crowds to have a look at the princess, and as she sat on the balcony
overlooking the park they shouted themselves hoarse in her praise.
At last Prince Frederick made his appearance alone, and brought the
"compliments of the king, queen, duke, and princesses, who hoped the
bride was well." They could scarcely have done less, but certainly
might, and ought, to have done more to welcome a young girl who had come
to their shores under such circumstances. But she does not seem to have
complained, and no doubt contented herself with the belief that she was
only submitting to the custom of a strange country.
Greenwich looked very bright and gay on the following {098}day; for the
prince and princess dined in public, and a crowd gathered to witness
that important ceremony. Then the royal pair drove down to the river,
and entered a beautifully decorated barge that awaited them, and were
rowed up and down, while horns were blown, guns fired, and bands of
music performed on the boats and at different points along the banks
of the river. On the next day, which was Tuesday, Frederick awaited his
bride, with whom he had fallen in love at first sight, in London. She
left Greenwich in one of the royal carriages, alighted at Lambeth,
and then crossed over to Whitehall in a boat. Entering one of Queen
Caroline's state-chairs, the princess was carried by two stout yeomen
to St. James's Palace, where everything was arranged in a tasteful,
magnificent manner for her reception. Prince Frederick received his
bride as she stepped from the chair, and drawing her to him, pressed her
in his arms and gave her two affectionate kisses; then, taking her by
the hand, he led her up the grand staircase, and into the presence of a
splendid and numerous assemblage of court ladies and gentlemen. She was
first presented to the king, who would not permit her to kneel, but,
putting his arm around her, kissed her cheek and said a few kind words.
Queen Caroline greeted her warmly, and her example was followed by her
daughters and the Duke of Cumberland.
The king had grown so impatient at being detained in England for the
wedding, when he wanted to get back to his beloved Hanover, that he had
declared if they did not make haste with it they would have to dispense
with his presence altogether at the ceremony. But he was so well pleased
at the appearance and behavior of the young bride that he was completely
mollified. She was modest, but at the same time self-possessed to a
degree that proved her to be thoroughly well-bred and sensible. In this
respect she {099}formed quite a contrast to the young people whose
family she was entering, for they squabbled about the most trifling
points of etiquette, which proved the littleness of their minds as well
as their faulty training. For example, the prince thought that on such
an important occasion as that of his marriage, he and his bride should
take precedence of others of equal rank, and that his brother and
sisters should be satisfied with stools at the dinner-table, while he
and Princess Augusta occupied chairs, also that they should be served
with somewhat less ceremony and respect. But they absolutely refused to
enter the dining-room until the stools had been replaced by chairs
as large and luxurious as those intended for the bride and groom, and
insisted upon being waited on by their respective servants, who had
orders to imitate those of the Prince of Wales in every ceremony used
at table. Later in the evening, when coffee was brought around in the
drawing-room by Frederick's servants, the Duke of Cumberland and the
princesses all declined it, because, as they said, "they were afraid
instructions had been given to inflict some disgrace in the manner of
handing the beverage had they accepted of any." They certainly did not
deserve to partake of the coffee, or anything else that was good, as
long as they were so petty and narrow-minded.
On the day after the arrival of the bride at St. James's, there was
a grand state-dinner, after which costumes were rearranged, and the
marriage ceremony was performed, while several salutes were fired by the
artillery at various stages of the proceedings. The bride wore no
wig, but had her own hair tastefully dressed and surmounted by a crown
studded with diamonds, of which gems she wore a profusion, besides on
different parts of her person and dress. Brides and babies ought always
to wear white; but a different rule guided the Princess of Wales, whose
robe {100}at her wedding ceremony was of crimson velvet, bordered with
ermine. A long, full train, that hung from the shoulders, where it was
attached by diamond clasps, was supported by four young ladies, who
wore silver gauge dresses and diamonds valued at from twenty to thirty
thousand pounds each.
The Duke of Cumberland gave the bride away, and the Duke of Grafton and
Lord Hervey, lord and vice-chamberlains of the royal household, acted as
ushers. All the noble ladies and gentlemen of the court accompanied the
bride and groom in procession to the Chapel Royal, where the ceremony
was performed by the Lord Bishop of London. At its completion there was
a grand flourish of trumpets, and a deafening beating of drums, followed
by the music of a brass band, and the thundering of cannon in the park,
that announced to Londoners the conclusion of the compact. Then the
bridal party proceeded to the king's drawing-room, where his majesty and
Queen Caroline were seated on a dais under a richly-draped canopy. The
newly-wedded couple walked hand in hand the entire length of the room,
and knelt before the royal parents, who solemnly blessed their children.
A grand banquet was served at ten o'clock, and was attended by much
gaiety and joviality. Speeches were made, healths were drunk, and
everybody seemed happy.
{101}
[Illustration: 0107]
{103}