Between the period of the birth of the last child of Queen Charlotte and the date last named Her Majesty had presented other claimants upon the love and liberality of the people. These were Augustus (Sussex), born in 1773; Adolphus (Cambridge), in 1774; Mary, in 1776; and Sophia, in 1777. Walpole compares a Mrs. Fitzroy with the Queen. ‘Mrs. Fitzroy,’ he writes, ‘has got a seventh boy. Between her and the Queen, London will be like the senate of old Rome, an assembly of princes. In a few generations there will be no joke in saying, “Their Highnesses the Mob.”’ Meanwhile a Queen, thus constantly occupied, performed all household and matronly duties in a way that won respect even from those who detected in her faults of temper or errors in politics. Of her method and success in training some of her children we have this evidence. The King took frequent excursions, while the Queen kept house at home. Of one of these, a visit to the fleet at Portsmouth, Walpole writes: ‘All England is gone to meet King George at Portsmouth. The Duchess of Northumberland gives forty guineas for a bed, and must take her chamber-maid into it. I did not think she would pay so dear for such company. His Majesty, because the post-chaises of gods are as immortal as their persons, would not suffer a second chaise to be sent for him; and therefore, if his could and did break down, he would enter Portsmouth in triumph in a hack.’
When the youngest of the daughters of Her Majesty was about six years old, the well-known Jacob Bryant heard the Queen make a remark to the child which he (the author of the ‘Treatise on the Authenticity of the Scriptures and Truth of the Christian Religion’) considered and cited as high authority for a mode of reasoning which he adopted when speaking of the obstacles that encumber the way even of the seekers after truth. He is alluding to those who are discouraged because the truth they would fain seize is not yet obvious to them; and he bids them wait with patience and not be discouraged. ‘I have high authority,’ he says, ‘for this mode of reasoning, which I hope I may take the liberty to produce. When a great personage some years ago was visiting the royal nursery, a most amiable princess (the Princess Mary, afterwards Duchess of Gloucester), then about six years old, ran with a book in her hand, and tears in her eyes, and said, “Madam, I cannot comprehend it! I cannot comprehend it!” Her Majesty, with true parental affection, looked upon the princess, and bade her not to be alarmed. “What you cannot comprehend to-day, you may comprehend to-morrow; and what you cannot attain to this year, you may arrive at the next. Do not therefore be frightened with little difficulties, but attend to what you do know, and the rest will come in time.”’ This was good common sense, and Mr. Bryant calls it ‘a golden rule, well worthy our observation.’ Charlotte, too, could say a witty as well as a wise thing. The year 1775 was unmarked by the birth of an heir or heiress in Brunswick’s line. The Queen’s own birthday drawing-room was all the more brilliant. ‘The crowd,’ says Walpole, ‘was excessive, and had squeezed, and shoved, and pressed upon the Queen in the most hoyden manner. As she went out of the drawing-room, somebody said, in flattery, that “the crowd was very great.” “Yes,” said the Queen, “and wherever one went, the Queen was in everybody’s way.”’
Her Majesty displayed even more readiness in patronising such men as the author above named than she did in the patronage of musicians, fond as she and her royal consort were of the really tuneful art. In old days the honour of British queens was said to be most safe when it had a bard for its attendant protector. At a comparatively early period the Queen furnished the grateful Prince of Wales with a chaplain, whose chief duty was comprised in daily reading prayers in the young prince’s presence, and, if we may judge by the result, not very much to the young prince’s profit. Among those who were candidates for the office was the too celebrated Dr. Dodd; but though the Queen was in some degree interested in him, on account of his reported ability, she united heartily with the King in refusing to nominate him to the responsible duty. The elder princes were, as early as 1773, located at Carlton House, under the guardianship of Lady Charlotte Finch, almost daily superintended by the Queen. The latter was, however, always glad to escape from town to Kew, which had come into the King’s possession on the death of his mother, and for which the residence at Old Richmond had been abandoned. It was at Kew that she received Beattie, for whom she had procured a pension of 200l. a-year, right royal reward, for his indifferent work on the Immutability of Truth. The well-recompensed author was in too good a humour with the royal lady to see any fault in her. He even pronounced her English ‘fair,’ and herself as ‘most agreeable.’ The portraits of her, he thought, hardly rendered her justice, and the expression of her eye and of her smile was declared by him to be most engaging.
She was not so favourably considered by some of her own court. Thus, the wearers of the fashionable long feathers denounced her bad taste when the Queen issued her decree against their being worn at court. The decree, however, was not issued without great provocation, a dowager-duchess having appeared at a drawing-room with a head-dress of feathers a yard and a quarter in height. The sight was so ridiculous that Charlotte would, for a long time, neither tolerate them in others nor wear them herself. The maids of honour grumbled as heartily at this as they did at the rule of the Queen’s household which did not provide them with supper. The fair ladies’ remonstrance on this latter subject almost amounted to a mutiny. The affair was ended by compromise. Their salary was raised, and each maid received on her marriage a gift of 1,000l. from the Queen.
The latter frowned when the heavy bargain was concluded, but she changed the frown for a smile on being told that the Prince of Wales had corrected Lord Bruce for making a false quantity. Next to his being a gentleman she hoped he would be a scholar, and here was a prospect of her hopes being realised!
As a sample of the Queen’s benevolence we may cite the following record. In the action off Brest, in which the adversaries fought with a valour which did honour to both parties and enhanced the glory of the victors, there was no ship more distinguished in the fray than the gallant but luckless Quebec. This vessel blew up in the action, and out of her numerous crew only seventeen persons escaped. Among the latter was a master’s mate, named William Moore, afterwards Captain Moore. He was desperately wounded in the shoulder and leg, and he conceived little hopes of ever being, like the old commodore in the song, fit for sea again. Meanwhile, however, he had a friend at court, in the person of a kinsman named Ashburner, who was mercer to the Queen. The kind-hearted tradesman was exhibiting his wares to Her Majesty, when amid his commendations of them he contrived to introduce his cousin’s name and condition, with some commiserating comment upon his hard fate. The Queen was extremely judicious in her acts of charity, and she simply told the mercer to send the master’s mate down to Windsor, if he were well enough to bear the journey. The very command was sovereign spermaceti to his wounds, and in a day or two the sadly battered sailor was comfortably lodged at Windsor, the patient of the Queen’s own surgeon and physician. He took some time to cure, but the desired result was achieved at last, and the master’s mate now stood in presence of the Queen to thank her, which the pale sailor did with faltering expression of gratitude, for the royal benevolence which had again made a man of him. To a query from the royal lady, he protested that he felt perfectly equal for the performance of duty again. ‘So I hear from the doctor,’ said Queen Charlotte. ‘And I have spoken about you to the King, and there, Mr. Moore, is His Majesty’s acknowledgments for your gallantry and sufferings when afloat.’ Mr. Moore thought the Queen and King an exceedingly civil couple to say so much about the performance of a matter of duty, and he was about to retire from the presence, when the Queen said, smilingly, ‘Mr. Moore, will not you see what His Majesty says?’ The master’s mate obeyed, and was rewarded for his obedience by finding that he had been promoted to a lieutenancy on board the Mercury. This was a good deed gracefully enacted. Not less so was another of which the Queen was the author, whereby she procured for the widow and large family of Captain Farmer, who fell in the Quebec, an annuity which made really princely provision for the widow and children of the slain commander.
The poets of 1779 were not addicted to satire, except in jest. Thus one, in a rhymed dialogue, makes one of his interlocutors say to the other—
I own your satire’s just and keen;
Proceed, and satirise the Queen.
To which the reply is—