‘It was really a mighty pretty procession. The little Princess, just turned three years old, in a robe-coat covered with fine muslin, a dressed closed cap, white gloves, and a fan, walked on alone and first, highly delighted in the parade, and turning from side to side to see everybody as she passed; for all the terracers stand up against the walls to make a clear passage for the royal family the moment they come in sight. Then follow the King and Queen, no less delighted themselves with the joy of their little darling.’[2]
The Princess Royal, at this time, is said to have shown more respect and humility to her parents than any of the other children of the family. She passed on in this birthday procession, accompanied by ladies, and her sisters, similarly accompanied, followed her. Happy were they to whom Queen or King addressed a few words as they stopped on their way; and astounded were the adorers of etiquette when they saw the little Princess Amelia, on recognising Miss Burney, not only go up to kiss her, but actually kissed by her. The Queen herself was probably more surprised than pleased. But it was a birthday! At other seasons etiquette was so rigidly observed (always excepting at Kew) that the children of the royal family never spoke in the presence of the King and Queen, except to answer observations made to them. The Queen, too, as well as she was able, watched over the religious education of her daughters, and always assembled them around her to listen to a course of religious reading by herself. This she did with gravity and good judgment, as became indeed a woman of ordinary good sense.
We have already, incidentally, noticed the attempt made upon the life of the King by Margaret Nicholson. The attack was not known to the Queen till it was announced to her by the King in person. As soon as the poor mad woman had been arrested, the Spanish ambassador posted down to Windsor, to be in readiness to inform her Majesty of the truth, in case of any exaggerated reports reaching her ear. When the King entered the Queen’s apartment at Windsor, on his return from London, he wore a rather joyous air, and exclaimed, in a naturally joyous tone, ‘Well, here I am, safe and well, though I have had a very narrow escape of being stabbed.’ The consternation in the family circle was great; several of the ladies burst into tears, for every one was fond of George III., albeit he was accused of Stuart fondness for the exercise of kingly prerogative. The Queen alone did not at first weep, but pale and agitated she turned round to those who did, and said that she envied them. The relief of tears, however, soon comparatively restored her, and she was enabled, with some outward show of calmness, to listen to the King’s details of the occurrence. Into these he entered with the hilarity of a man whose feelings are naturally not very finely strung, but who is strongly persuaded that escape from assassination is rather a matter to be jocund than solemn over. He did not want for a sense of gratitude at his escape, but nothing could prevent his being gay over it. He told the details, therefore, as though they partook something of a joke. He noticed that the knife had slightly cut or grazed his waistcoat; and said he, ‘It was great good luck that it did not go further. There was nothing beneath it but some thin linen and a good deal of fat.’
The matter, however, pressed heavily upon the spirits of the Queen. She dreaded lest this attempt should be only a part of a great conspiracy, and feared that the conspirators would not rest satisfied with the mere attempt. The idea was natural at the time, for democracy then was daily barking at, if not biting, kings; and so universally spread was the feeling through one class throughout Europe that the King of England had no cause to deem himself specially exempt from such attempts. George III. had the courageous spirit common to most of the princes of his house, and would not stand aloof from his people because the princes of other houses were at issue with their people. The Queen felt greater distrust, but she was partially reassured by the tone taken by the English papers. The pulpit and the press spoke out in tones which showed that, however the country might be divided upon questions connected with politics, it would not tolerate the idea of regicide. These things were known to Queen Charlotte, and comforted the poor lady, who, for a time, could not think of her husband being in London without a spasmodic horror. She pored over the English papers, in order to draw from them comfort and consolation; and it was when reading one of the warmly loyal articles therein, beginning with the words of the coronation anthem, ‘Long live the King! may the King live for ever!’ that she shed the most copious tears that yet had fallen from her, and drew comfort from what she read. Perhaps the words brought back to her recollection the period, a quarter of a century before, when she had listened to that anthem for the first time, and, glancing back over the long period that had since then elapsed, she perhaps dared to hope that the protection which had been so far vouchsafed would be continued. Another quarter of a century indeed was vouchsafed before the splendour of the reign began to wane in the mental gloom which settled around the King; but already had begun those domestic troubles which were inflicted upon her by the unfilial conduct of her heartless eldest son.
At present, however, she could only think of, and be grateful for, the escape of the King. Loyalty visited her somewhat oppressively in its congratulations, and the next drawing-room was so crowded, and its ceremonies so long, that the Queen was half dead with fatigue before it was over. She found rest and welcome sympathy at ever-pleasant Kew. There the inhabitants welcomed their royal patrons with a zeal, warmth, beer-drinking, and fireworks such as had not been exceeded in any part of the empire. But it was a sort of honour-festival in which the Queen could partake without fatigue. She enjoyed it heartily; and more emphatically than was her wont, even when most pleased, she exclaimed, ‘I shall love little Kew for this as long as I live!’
When Charlotte, on her first visit to the City, charmed even the eyes of the fair Quakeresses who surrounded her at the Barclays’ by the splendour of her diamonds, she already had the reputation of possessing a desire for acquiring precious stones. Such desire was at one time a mere fashion, like the mania which squandered thousands on a flower, or the madness which at a later period prevailed to be possessed, at whatever cost, of porcelain.
The people were reminded of the Queen’s fondness for diamonds at the period when the name of Warren Hastings began to be unpleasantly canvassed in England. The return of that remarkable personage from India was preceded by that of his scarcely less remarkable wife. Soon after her arrival Mrs. Hastings appeared at court, and nothing could exceed the graciousness of the reception she met with from Queen Charlotte. The popular tongue soon wagged audaciously, if not veraciously, on this royal welcome to a lady who was commonly said to have come to England with a lapful of diamonds. For such glittering presents it was said that Queen Charlotte sold her favour and protection. There was, no doubt, much exaggeration in the matter; but the supposed protection of the court, and the alleged manner in which it was said to have been purchased, were as injurious to Hastings as any of the invectives thundered against him by Burke. At the time that the monster impeachment was going on, a present from the Nizam of the Deccan to the King arrived in England. It was a splendid diamond, and was consigned, for presentation, to Warren Hastings, who handed it over to Lord Sydney, but who was present himself at the time when that nobleman duly offered the glittering gift to the King. Its ready acceptance, at a time when Hastings was on his trial, was misconstrued; and that popular voice which so often errs, notwithstanding the assertion that when uttered it is divinely inspired, immediately concluded that at least a bushelful of diamonds, presented to the King and Queen, had bought impunity for the alleged great offender. Ridicule, satire, caricature, violent prose, and execrable rhyme were levelled at both their Majesties in consequence. According to those who were about the person of the Queen, she had better jewels in her virtues than in caskets of precious gems. Miss Burney, in her portrait of the Queen, may be said to contemplate her through pink-coloured spectacles. But, setting aside what predilection induces her to say, enough remains to satisfy an unprejudiced person that there was much amiability, penetration, and good sense in the character of Charlotte. She was more dignified in her visits at the houses of subjects than any of her predecessors had been. She preferred reading the ‘Spectator’ to reading novels, and indeed had very little regard for novel-writers, and none at all for Madame de Genlis, with whom she very wisely counselled Miss Burney not to correspond.
Of the affection which existed between the Queen and her husband here is a pretty incident:—‘The Queen had nobody but myself with her one morning, when the King hastily entered the room with some letters in his hand, and addressing her in German, which he spoke very fast, and with much apparent interest in what he said, he brought the letters up to her and put them into her hand. She received them with much agitation, but evidently of a much pleased sort, and endeavoured to kiss his hand as he held them. He would not let her, but made an effort, with a countenance of the highest satisfaction, to kiss her. I saw instantly in her eyes a forgetfulness at the moment that any one was present, while, drawing away her hand, she presented him her cheek. He accepted her kindness with the same frank affection that she offered it, and the next moment they both spoke English, and talked upon common and general subjects. What they said I am far enough from knowing; but the whole was too rapid to give me time to quit the room, and I could not but see with pleasure that the Queen had received some favour with which she was sensibly delighted, and that the King, in her acknowledgments, was happily and amply paid.’[3]
This sort of incident, it may be said, is of commonplace frequency in private life, short of the hand-kissing; but it also serves to show that there was an affection existing at this period which, happily, is not a rare one in common life. And Charlotte could condescend to the level of that so-called common life, and to them who belonged to it exhibit her natural goodness. Witness for her the directions which she sent on a cold November morning to good old and parcel-blind Mrs. Delany. ‘Tell her,’ said she, ‘that this morning is so very cold and wet that I think she will suffer by going to church. Tell her, therefore, that Dr. Queen is of opinion she had better stay and say her prayers at home.’ She showed her concern still more when, after having lent to Miss Burney that abominable and absurd tragedy of Horace Walpole’s, ‘The Mysterious Mother,’ she presented her with Ogden’s Sermons, wherewith to sweeten her imagination. Perhaps Hurd, Bishop of Worcester, on his visit to Windsor this year, rather underrated the royal power to appreciate sermons. Mrs. Delany asked him for a copy of one which he had preached before their Majesties. The prelate answered that the sermon would not do at all for her. It was a mere plain Christian sermon, he said, made for the King and Queen, but it wouldn’t do for a bel esprit.
The royal household was sometimes disturbed by family dissensions; thus in 1787 the Prince of Wales would not attend the birthday drawing-room of the Queen, but he sent her written congratulations on the return of the day. The coldness existing between mother and son kept the latter from court. ‘I fear it was severely felt by his royal mother,’ says Miss Burney, ‘though she appeared composed and content.’ Of party-spirit at this time, when party-spirit ran so high and was so fierce and bitter in quality, the Diarist last named asserts that the Queen had but little. She declares her Majesty to have been liberal and nobly-minded, ‘beyond what I had conceived her rank and limited connections could have left her, even with the fairest advancements from her early nature; and many things dropped from her, in relation to parties and their consequences, that showed a feeling so deep upon the subject, joined to a lenity so noble towards the individuals composing it, that she drew tears from my eyes in several instances.’