Time had been, and not so long before, when English Ministers advised the recession of Gibraltar to Spain, and George the First had written a letter which contained a promise to restore the fortress at some future time. This letter had been written upon the advice of Townshend and Carteret in 1721, and so lately as 1728 we find that Townshend was still in favour of the cession of Gibraltar. Writing to Poyntz he declared: “What you proposed in relation to Gibraltar is certainly very reasonable, and is exactly conformable to the opinion which you know I have always entertained concerning that place; but you cannot but be sensible of the violent and almost superstitious zeal which has of late prevailed among all parties of this kingdom against any scheme for the restitution of Gibraltar upon any conditions whatsoever.”[40] If the matter had rested with Townshend, who had obtained the ear of the King during his absence at Hanover, Gibraltar would probably have been ceded to Spain.
To Caroline, therefore, acting in conjunction with Walpole, the credit is due of having retained it for England. True, Gibraltar was not mentioned by name in the Treaty of Seville, though the Opposition clamoured for its explicit mention. But the Queen and the Prime Minister were firm; they were content with the kernel and troubled not about the husk. The result justified their wisdom. The treaty was ultimately ratified without conditions, and Gibraltar henceforth became a recognised possession of England.
In this, as in all other matters, the Queen worked in close accord with Walpole, and by way of showing the Opposition how little she heeded their attacks, she publicly marked her favour of the Prime Minister by going to dine with him, accompanied by the Prince of Wales and all the Royal Family, at his house at Chelsea, where a magnificent entertainment was provided for her Majesty. The Queen and the Royal Family dined in one room, and the rest of the party in another, Walpole himself waiting on his illustrious guest. Nor did the Queen neglect the ceremonial side of her office; she kept great state whilst she was at St. James’s, and on the anniversary (June 11th) of the King’s Accession she held a court at St. James’s which was one of the most largely attended of the reign. She also frequently honoured the nobility with her presence at their entertainments.
At Windsor Caroline kept much company, availing herself of the King’s absence to go there. At Windsor she felt Queen of England indeed; she occupied the rooms which had been used by the late Queen Anne, and her favourite sitting room was the closet wherein Anne first heard of the great victory of Blenheim, in which hung the banner annually presented by the Duke of Marlborough, and now by his daughter, who was duchess in her own right. Caroline held drawing-rooms in the state apartments, of which the finest were the magnificent St. George’s Hall and the ball room, hung with tapestry representing the seasons of the year. The celebrated collection of beauties by Sir Peter Lely, afterwards removed to Hampton Court, adorned one of the state apartments, and the private chapel had some exquisite carved work by Grinling Gibbons. Here Caroline attended divine service, and, seated in the royal closet hung with crimson velvet, listened to lengthy discourses from Dr. Samuel Clarke, or some other favourite divine.
It was from Windsor on a notable occasion that she drove to honour the Earl and Countess of Orkney with a visit to their beautiful seat at Clieveden. “Yesterday,” writes Peter Wentworth, “the Queen and all the Royal Family went to dine and supper at Clieveden. How they were diverted I know not, but I believe very well, for they did not come home until almost four in the morning.”[41] According to all accounts the entertainment was very successful, but Lady Orkney’s anxieties as a hostess seem to have weighed heavily upon her, for we find her writing a long letter a few days later to Mrs. Howard, expressing her “anguish” because some little things had gone wrong. Perhaps, Lady Orkney only wanted a more particular expression of the Queen’s satisfaction. Her letter may be quoted as an expression of the fulsome servility to royal personages then in vogue even among the high nobility.
“Clieveden, August 5th, 1729.
“Madam,
“I give you this trouble out of the anguish of my mind, to have the Queen doing us the honour to dine here, and nothing performed in the order it ought to have been! The stools which were set for the Royal Family, though distinguished from ours, which I thought right, because the Princess Royal sits so at quadrille, put away by Lord Grantham,[42] who said there was to be no distinction from princes and princesses and the ladies. He directed the table-cloths so that there must be two to cover the table; for he used to have it so; in short, turned the servants’ heads. They kept back the dinner too long for her Majesty after it was dished, and was set before the fire, and made it look not well dressed, the Duke of Grafton saying they wanted a maître d’hôtel. All this vexed my Lord Orkney so—he tells me he hopes I will never meddle more, if he could ever hope for the same honour; which I own I did too much, as I see by the success, but having done it for the late King,[43] and was told that things were in that order, that it was as if his Majesty had lived here, I ventured it now, but I have promised not to aim at it more.
“But what I have said shows the greater goodness in the Queen to be so very easy. I have seen condescension in princesses, but none that ever came up to her Majesty: nay, not all the good you have ever said could make me imagine what I saw and heard. We all agreed her Majesty must be admired; and, if I may use the term, it was impossible to see her and not love her.
“If you hear of these mismanagements, pray be so good as to say the house was too little for the reception of the Queen, and so many great princes and princesses, who, without flattery, cannot be but respectedly admired. I thought I had turned my mind in a philosophical way of having done with the world, but I find I have deceived myself; for I am vexed and pleased with the honours I have received. I know from your discretion you will burn this, and I hope will always believe me, etc.,