The address of the Lords to the Queen, especially congratulating the mother on the marriage of her daughter, was rendered painful instead of pleasant by its being presented, that is spoken, to her by Lord Chesterfield. Caroline had never seen this peer since the time he was dismissed from her husband’s household, when she was Princess of Wales. He had not been presented at court since the accession of the present Sovereign, and the Queen was therefore resolved to treat as an utter stranger the man who had been impertinent enough to declare he designed that the step he took should be considered as a compliment to the Queen. The latter abhorred him, nevertheless, for his present attempt to turn the compliment addressed to her by the Lords into a joke. Before he appeared, Caroline intimated her determination not to let the peer’s cool impertinence awe or disconcert her. He really did find what she declared he should, that ‘it was as little in his power for his presence to embarrass her as for his raillery behind her back to pique her, or his consummate skill in politics to distress the King or his ministers.’[9]
The Queen acted up to this resolution. She received Lords Chesterfield, Scarborough, and Hardwicke, the bearers of the address, in her bedchamber, no one else being present but her children and Lord Hervey, who stood behind her chair. The last-named nobleman, in describing the scene, says: ‘Lord Chesterfield’s speech was well written and well got by heart, and yet delivered with a faltering voice, a face as white as a sheet, and every limb trembling with concern. The Queen’s answer was quiet and natural, and delivered with the same ease that she would have spoken to the most indifferent person in her circle.’
Caroline, however, had more serious matters to attend to during this year than affairs of marriage. Of these we will now briefly speak.
Sir Robert Walpole’s celebrated Excise scheme was prolific in raising political agitations and exciting both political and personal passions. The Peers were, strangely enough, even more resolute against the measure than the Commons; or perhaps it would be more correct to say, that a portion of them took advantage of the popular feeling to further thereby their own particular interests and especial objects.
It is again illustrative of the power and influence of Caroline, and of the esteem in which she was held, that a body of the peers delegated Lord Stair to proceed to the Queen, at Kensington, and remonstrate with her upon the unconstitutional and destructive measure, as they designated the Excise project.
Lord Stair was a bold man and was accustomed to meet and contend with sovereigns. He had no doubt of being able to turn Caroline to his purpose. But never did delegate perform his mission so awkwardly. He thought to awaken the Queen’s indignation against Walpole by imparting to her the valuable admonitory knowledge that she was ruled by that subtle statesman. He fancied he improved his position by informing her that Walpole was universally hated, that he was no gentleman, and that he was as ill-looking as he was ill-inclined. He even forgot his mission, save when he spoke of fidelity to his constituents, by going into purely personal matters, railing at the minister whose very shoe-buckles he had kissed in order to be appointed vice-admiral of Scotland, when the Duke of Queensberry was ejected from that post, and accusing Walpole of being manifestly untrue to the trust which he held, seeing that whenever there was an office to dispose of, he invariably preferred giving it to the Campbells rather than to him—Stair. To the Campbells!—he reiterated, as if the very name were enough to rouse Caroline against Walpole. To the Campbells! who tried to rule England by means of the King’s mistress; opposed to governing it by means of the King’s wife.
Caroline heard him with decent and civil patience until he had gone through his list of private grievances, and began to meddle with matters personal to herself and the royal hearth. She then burst forth, and was superb in her rebuke—superb in its matter and manner—superb in her dignity and in the severity with which she crushed Lord Stair beneath her fiery sarcasms and her withering contempt. She ridiculed his assertions of fidelity, and told him he had become traitor to his own country and the betrayer of his own constituents. She mocked his complacent assurances that his object was not personal, but patriotic. She professed her intense abhorrence of having the private dissensions of noblemen ripped open in her presence, and bade him learn better manners than to speak, as he had done, of ‘the King’s servants to the King’s wife.’
‘My conscience,’ said Lord Stair.
‘Don’t talk to me of your conscience, my lord,’ said Caroline, ‘or I shall faint.’ The conversation was in French, and the Queen’s precise words were, ‘Ne me parlez point de conscience, milord; vous me faites évanouir.’
The Scottish lord was sadly beaten down, and confessed his disgraceful defeat by requesting her Majesty to be good enough to keep what had passed at the interview as a secret. He added, in French, ‘Madame, le Roi est trompé et vous êtes trahie’—‘The King is deceived and you are betrayed.’ He had previously alluded to Lords Bolingbroke and Carteret, as men worthy indeed to be trusted, and who had the honour and glory of the kingdom at heart. These names, with such testimonial attached to them, especially excited the royal indignation. ‘Bolingbroke and Carteret!’ exclaimed Caroline. ‘You may tell them from me, if you will, that they are men of no parts; that they are said to be two of the greatest liars in any country; and that my observation and experience confirm what is said of them.’[10]