The reports regarding her were at once atrocious and absurd. They were the falser because they spoke of her having insisted on a repetition of her marriage ceremony with the King, and that the same was performed by Dr. Wilmot, at Kew Palace. The motive for this proceeding was ascribed to the alleged fact of the death of Hannah Lightfoot, with whom rumour was resolved that the King had been wedded, and that now a legal marriage might be solemnised between the Queen and himself. The atrocity of rumour was illustrated by a report that in consequence of an attack of illness which had affected, for a short time, the King’s mental faculties, the Queen, armed with a law which, in the case of an interruption in the exercise of the royal authority, gave a power of regency to her Majesty, or other members of the royal family, assisted by a council, had exercised the most unlimited sway over the national affairs, to the injury of the nation.

The only part of this which is true is where the King’s illness is referred to. That he had been mentally affected was not known beyond the palace, and to but a very few within it. He went with the Queen to Richmond in the month of April, announcing an intention to spend a week there; but, on the third day, he appeared unexpectedly at the levée held by the Queen. This was so contrived in order to prevent a crowd. He was at the drawing-room on the following day, and at chapel on Good Friday. He looked pale, but it was the fixed plan to call him well, and far-seeing people hoped that he was so. His health was considered as very precarious, but what was chiefly dreaded was—consumption.

He acted with promptitude in this matter, by going down to the House, and in an affecting and dignified spirit, urging the necessity of appointing a regency, in case of some accident happening to himself before the heir-apparent should become of age. The struggle on this bill was one of the most violent which had ever been carried on by two adverse factions. By a mere juggle practised on the King, the clauses of the bill passed by the Lords, after some absurd discussion as to what was meant by the ‘royal family,’ excluded his mother, the Princess-dowager of Wales, as though she were not a member of it. The struggle was as fierce in the Commons; for ministers dreaded lest, with the Princess-dowager, they might get her protégé, Lord Bute, for ‘King!’ The political antagonists professed a super-excellence of what they did not possess—patriotism; and after a battle of personalities, the name of the Princess-dowager was inserted next after that of the Queen (whom some were desirous to exclude altogether), as capable, with certain assistance named, of exercising the power of regency, and the Lords adopted the bill which came to them thus amended.

The Queen, it is hardly necessary to observe, had no opportunity under this bill to exercise any present power, had she been ever so inclined. It was only in after years that her enemies made the accusation against her, when they wanted the memory which mendacious persons are said to chiefly require. With respect to the desired omission of the name of the King’s mother from the regency, it was fixing on her a most unmerited stigma. The attempt to prove that she was not of the royal family was to say, in other words, that she was not akin to her own son. It is not known whether the Queen herself thought so, nor did people care what a fiction of law might say thereupon. The Princess-dowager’s name was placed next to that of Queen Charlotte in the new Regency bill.

There is little more of personal detail connected with the Queen this year that is of much interest. Her eldest son already wore a long list of titles, had been honoured with the Order of the Garter, and returned brief answers to loyal deputations. He was born twice a duke, once an earl and baron, and Lord High Steward of Scotland. He was Duke of Cornwall and Rothsay, Earl of Carrick, and Baron of Renfrew; and a few days after his birth his mother smilingly laid upon his lap the patent whereby he was created Prince of Wales. His brother Frederick had been, ere he could speak, named Bishop of Osnaburgh; and Queen and King were equally hurt by the ‘Chapter,’ who acknowledged their diocesan, but refused to entrust to him the irresponsible guardianship of the episcopal funds. The Queen’s thoughts were drawn away from this matter, for a moment, by the birth (already noticed) of William Henry, on the 21st of August—the second of her children destined to ascend the throne. This was the little prince who so delighted the good Mrs. Chapone, and by his engaging ways won the heart of Dr. Thomas, Bishop of Winchester.

But while some princes were flourishing, others were fading. The health of the Duke of Cumberland, the dearly loved son of Caroline, had long been precarious. As early as April in this year his favourite sister, Amelia, residing at Gunnersbury, had felt much alarm on his account. ‘The Duke of Cumberland is actually set out for Newmarket to-day; he, too, is called much better, but it is often as true of the health of princes as of their prisoners, that there is little distance between each and their graves. There has been lately a fire at Gunnersbury which burned four rooms; her servants announced it to Princess Amelia with that wise precaution of “Madam, do not be frightened!”—accordingly, she was terrified. When they told her the truth, she said, “I am very glad; I had expectation my brother was dead.”’[46] The expectation seemed natural. A few months more only were to elapse before he who was so over-praised for his generalship at Culloden, and so over-censured for his severity after it, was summoned to depart.

FOOTNOTES

[1] It is even alleged that he had been, through his representative, M. de Gourville, at the Court of Hanover, the first to suggest the expediency of a marriage between his daughter and George Louis. The suggestion was made as coming, not only from himself, but from the Duchess of Zell also, who certainly was no party to such a proposition.

[2] Letter to the Duke of Marlborough.

[3] De Roney.