It was on the 8th of July 1761 that the King announced to his council, in due and ordinary form, that having nothing so much at heart as the welfare and happiness of his people, and that to render the same stable and permanent to posterity being the first object of his reign, he had ever since his accession to the throne turned his thoughts to the choice of a princess with whom he might find the solace of matrimony and the comforts of domestic life; he had to announce to them, therefore, with great satisfaction, that, after the most mature reflection and fullest information, he had come to a resolution to demand in marriage the Princess Charlotte of Mecklenburgh Strelitz, a princess distinguished by every amiable virtue and elegant endowment, whose illustrious line had continually shown the firmest zeal for the Protestant religion, and a particular attachment to his Majesty’s family. Lord Hardwicke, who had been fixed upon by the King as his representative commissioned to go to Strelitz, and ask the hand of the Princess Charlotte Sophia in marriage, owed his appointment and his subsequent nomination as master of the buckhounds to his Majesty, to the circumstance that at the King’s accession he had been almost the only nobleman who had not solicited some favour from the Crown. He was so charmed with his mission that everything appeared to him couleur de rose, and not only was he enraptured with ‘the most amiable young princess he ever saw,’ but, as he adds in a letter to his friend, Mr. Mitchel, gratified at the reception he had met with at the court of Strelitz, appearing as he did ‘upon such an errand,’ and happy to find that ‘the great honour the King has done this family is seen in its proper light.’ The business, as he remarks, was not a difficult one. There were no thorns in his rosy path. The little court, he tells us, exerted its utmost abilities to make a figure suitable for this occasion, and, in the envoy’s opinion, they acquitted themselves not only with magnificence and splendour, but with great taste and propriety. His lordship completed the treaty of marriage on the 15th of August. His testimony touching the bride runs as follows:—‘Our Queen that is to be has seen very little of the world; but her very good sense, vivacity, and cheerfulness, I dare say, will recommend her to the King, and make her the darling of the British nation. She is no regular beauty; but she is of a very pretty size, has a charming complexion, very pretty eyes, and finely made. In short, she is a very fine girl.’
Mrs. Stuart, daughter-in-law of Lord Bute, left the following note of the early life of the princess, and of the marriage-by-proxy ceremony, derived from the Queen herself:—
‘Her Majesty described her life at Mecklenburgh as one of extreme retirement. She dressed only en robe de chambre, except on Sundays, on which day she put on her best gown, and after service, which was very long, took an airing in a coach-and-six, attended by guards and all the state she could muster. She had not “dined” at table at the period I am speaking of. One morning her eldest brother, of whom she seems to have stood in great awe, came to her room in company with the duchess, her mother.... In a few minutes the folding doors flew open to the saloon, which she saw splendidly illuminated; and then appeared a table, two cushions, and everything prepared for a wedding. Her brother then gave her his hand, and, leading her in, used his favourite expression—“Allons, ne faites pas l’enfant, tu vas être Reine d’Angleterre.” Mr. Drummond then advanced. They knelt down. The ceremony, whatever it was, proceeded. She was laid on the sofa, upon which he laid his foot; and they all embraced her, calling her “La Reine.”’
‘La Reine’ was not such ‘a very fine girl’ as not to be startled by the superior beauty of the two principal ladies who were sent to escort her to London. When the Princess Charlotte of Mecklenburgh first looked upon the brilliant Duchesses of Ancaster and Hamilton, she could not help exclaiming, with a sentiment apparently of self-humility, ‘Are all the women in England as beautiful as you are?’
The convoying fleet sent to conduct the princess to England was commanded by the great Lord Anson. The Tripoline ambassador could not but admire the honour paid by his Majesty in sending so high an officer—‘the first eunuch,’ as the Mahometan called him—to escort the bride to her new home.’
When the marriage treaty had been formally concluded, after some delay caused by the death of the mother of the princess, the little city of Strelitz became briefly mad with joy and exultation. There were illuminations, balls, fireworks, and artillery; and for two days stupendous state banquets followed each other, and said much for the digestion of those who enjoyed them. On the 17th of August the princess left Strelitz, accompanied by her brother, the grand duke, and in four days arrived at Stade amid demonstrations of great delight on the part of the population, ever grateful for an excitement and especially so for one afforded them by a young Queen—as the bride elect was already considered. On the 22nd she embarked at Cuxhaven amid a salute from the whole fleet. For more than a week she was as disrespectfully tossed and tumbled about by the rough sea, over which her path lay, as the Hero of New Zealand buffeting the waves to meet her dusky Leander. During the voyage a wave washed a sailor from the deck, and he perished in the surging waters. At the end of the voyage the bride was, rather unnecessarily informed of the calamity. She had been undisturbed by any cry of ‘Man overboard!’
The royal yacht which bore the youthful bride was surrounded by the squadron forming the convoy; and across as boisterous a sea as ever tried a ship or perplexed a sailor the bride was carried in discomfort but safety, till, on the evening of Sunday, the 6th of September, the fleet and its precious freight arrived off Harwich. It was Sunday evening, and the fact was not known in London till Monday morning. The report of the ‘Queen’ having been seen off the coast of Sussex on Saturday was current, but there was great uncertainty as to where she was, whether she had landed, or when she would be in town. ‘Last night, at ten o’clock,’ says Walpole on Tuesday morning, ‘it was neither certain where she landed nor when she would be in town. I forgive history for knowing nothing, when so public an event as the arrival of a new Queen is a mystery even at this very moment in St. James’s Street. This messenger who brought the letter yesterday morning, said she arrived at half an hour after four, at Harwich. This was immediately translated into landing, and notified in those words to the ministers. Six hours afterwards it proved no such thing, and that she was only in Harwich Road; and they recollected that half an hour after four happens twice in twenty-four hours, and the letter did not specify which of the twices it was. Well, the bride’s-maids whipped on their virginity; the New Road and the parks were thronged; the guns were choking with impatience to go off; and Sir James Lowther, who was to pledge his Majesty, was actually married to Lady Mary Stuart. Five, six, seven, eight o’clock came, and no Queen.’
The lady so impatiently looked for remained on board the yacht throughout the Sunday night. Storm-tost as she had been, she had borne the voyage well, and had ‘been sick but half an hour, singing and playing on the harpsichord all the voyage, and been cheerful the whole time.’
On Monday she landed, but not till after dinner, and then was received in the ancient town by the authorities, and with all the usual ceremonies which it is the curse of very great people to be fated to encounter. Had the young King been a really gallant monarch he would have met his bride on the sea-shore; but etiquette does not allow of sovereigns being gallant, and the princess was welcomed by no higher dignitary than a mayor. In the afternoon she journeyed leisurely on to Colchester, where she was entertained at the house of a loyal private individual, Mr. Enew. Here Captain Birt served her with coffee, and Lieutenant John Seaber waited on her with tea; this service being concluded, an inhabitant of the town presented her with a box of candied eringo-root. This presentation is always made, it would seem, to royalty when the latter honours Colchester with a passing visit. The old town is, or was, proud of its peculiar production, ‘candied eringo-root.’ On the occasion in question the presenter learnedly detailed the qualities of the root; and the young princess looked as interested as she could while she was told that the eringium was of the Pentandria Digynia class, that it had general and partial corollæ, and that its root was attenuant and deobstruent, and was therefore esteemed a good hepatic, uterine, and nephritic. Its whole virtue, it was added, consists in its external or cortical part. There was a good opportunity to draw a comparison between the root and the bride, to the advantage of the latter, had the exhibitor been so minded; but the opportunity was allowed to pass, and the owner of the eringo failed to allude to the fact that the beauty in the royal features was surpassed by the virtue indwelling in her heart.
The royal visitor learned all that could well be told her, during her brief stay, of the historical incidents connected with the place, and having taken tea and coffee from the hands of veteran warriors, and candied eringo from Mr. Green, and information touching the visits of Queen Mary and Elizabeth from the clergy and others, the Princess Charlotte, or Queen Charlotte, as she was already called, continued her journey, and by gentle stages arrived at Lord Abercorn’s house at Witham, ‘’twixt the gloaming and the murk,’ at a quarter past seven. The host himself was ‘most tranquilly in town;’ and the mansion was described as ‘the palace of silence.’ The new arrivals, however, soon raised noise enough within its walls; for notwithstanding the dinner before landing, some refreshment taken at Harwich, and the tea, coffee, and candied eringo-root at Colchester, there was still supper to be provided for the tired Queen and her escort. The first course of the supper consisted of a mixture of fowl and fish, ‘leverets, partridges, carp, and soles, brought by express from Colchester, just time enough for supper.’ There were besides many made dishes, and an abundance of the choicest fruits that could be procured. The Queen supped in public, one of the penalties which royalty used to pay to the people. That is, she sat at table with open doors, at which all comers were allowed to congregate to witness the not too edifying spectacle of a young bride feeding. This exploit was accomplished by her Majesty, while Lord Hardwicke and the gallant Lord Anson stood on either side of the royal chair, and to the satisfaction of both actress and spectators.