Lord Hardwicke102 said he approved our not submitting to their haughtiness, and congratulated his country in not having been behind hand with them in that respect. Lord Granville103 took the draught, and applauded it exceedingly; said it deserved to be inserted in the Acta Regia; but for his part he did not love fine letters on business. He thought even bad Latin preferable to good in negotiations.
These speeches raised Pitt’s choler; and with reason. He had vindicated the honour of his country; and now was supporting it with a dignity it had never known since the days of Cromwell. He saw himself abandoned and ridiculed by his master’s ministers; but he was not a man to recoil before such adversaries. If he had assumed an unwarrantable tone, his situation might well justify it. He broke out with great asperity, and told them dictatorially, they should not alter an iota of the letter. Rhodomontade had been too favourite a figure with Lord Granville to leave him the dupe of it in another man. He himself had made glory but a step to ambition, instead of making ambition a footstool to glory. He neither admired Pitt’s exalted diction, nor exalted views; and continuing to canvass the point with him, said, he had understood from Bussy—“From Bussy,” interrupted Pitt; “nor you, nor any of you shall treat with Bussy: nobody shall but myself.”
The Duke of Bedford, whom the rest always summoned when they wanted to combat Pitt and did not dare, said, “he did not know why he was called to council, if he was not at liberty to debate; and since he was told they were not to be permitted to alter an iota, he would come thither no more,” and retired. Some of the others were less stout. Lord Bute said little, but that he thought the King’s honour was concerned in sticking to our own terms; and therefore he should be for adhering to them. This short turn in the Favourite produced a like sentiment in some who waited on his nod. Besides Mr. Pitt and Lord Temple, the Chancellor, Lord Halifax, and Lord Ligonier assented to the Favourite’s opinion; Hardwicke, Newcastle, Mansfield, and Granville adhered to the softer method. The Duke of Devonshire remained, who had uttered no opinion. At last he said, if they were not permitted to alter the draught of the letter (which implied his inclination to have it altered), he should give no opinion. Mr. Pitt asked what he should report to the King as his Grace’s advice? He replied as he had said before, “he would give no opinion.”
Newcastle was alarmed, and jealous of the sudden and unexpected turn Lord Bute had taken, but was soon satisfied by his Lordship that he was in no connection with Mr. Pitt; and, indeed, it is probable that he had only been overawed, and had apprehended being taxed by Pitt with any unpopular measure. On the 25th, another council was held, to which, notwithstanding his declaration, the Duke of Bedford returned. He and Devonshire seemed to have no concern but lest any wayward humour of Newcastle should be crossed. Pitt at this council was more temperate, and submitted to some small concessions.
On the 7th of September, the new Queen landed at Harwich. Lord Harcourt,104 whose peace had been made by Lord Talbot, had been sent to fetch her, with the Duchesses of Ancaster105 and Hamilton;106 but as an earnest of the prison prepared for her, and to keep her in that state of ignorance which was essential to the views of the Princess, they were forbidden to see her alone. Her mother, who died during the treaty of marriage, ordered her to put herself entirely into the hands of the Princess. Mrs. Katherine Dashwood,107 of a Jacobite family, and intimate of Lady Bute, was destined to live in the palace. No privy purse was allowed to the Queen, but Mr. Stone108 received twenty thousand pounds a year to pay her servants.
She had been educated in that strict course of piety, which in Germany reaches to superstition; a habit in which she was encouraged to such a degree, that when the King visited his mother, which he soon, at the desire of the Princess, began to do, without the Queen, she was afraid of staying alone, and retired to her two German women; her English ladies not being suffered to keep her company. Yet this weakness seemed solely the result of a bad education. Her temper appeared to be lively, and her understanding sensible and quick. Great good-nature, set off by much grace in her manner, recommended all she said. Her person was small, and very lean, but well made. Her face pale and homely, her nose something flat, her mouth very large. Her hair was of a fine brown, and her countenance pleasing.
When first she saw the palace she trembled. The Duchess of Hamilton smiled. The Queen said, “You may laugh; you have been married twice; but it is no joke to me.” The King received her in the garden of St. James’s; she would have kneeled, but he raised and embraced her, and led her to the Princess, where they and Lady Augusta dined together. Between nine and ten at night they went to chapel. The Duke of Cumberland gave her away; and after the ceremony they appeared for a few minutes in the drawing-room, and then went to supper. She played and sung, for music was her passion, but she loved other amusements too, and had been accustomed to them; but excepting her music, all the rest were retrenched; nor was she109 ever suffered to play at cards, which she loved. While she was dressing, she was told the King liked some particular manner of dress. She said, “Let him dress himself; I shall dress as I please.” They told her he liked early hours; she replied, she did not, and “qu’elle ne voulait pas se coucher avec les poules.” A few weeks taught her how little power she had acquired with a Crown. The affection she conceived for the King softened the rigour of her captivity. Yet now and then a sigh stole out, and now and then she attempted, though in vain, to enlarge her restraint. What must have penetrated deeper, was, that policy did not seem to be the sole motive of the mortifications she endured. At times there entered a little wantonness of power into the Princess’s treatment of her. The King made her frequent presents of magnificent jewels; and as if diamonds were empire, she was never allowed to appear in public without them. The first time she received the sacrament, she begged not to wear them, one pious command of her mother having been, not to use jewels at her first communion. The King indulged her; but Lady Augusta carrying this tale to her mother, the Princess obliged the King to insist on the jewels, and the poor young Queen’s tears and terrors could not dispense with her obedience.
Previous to the Coronation the vacant Bishopricks were bestowed. The Archbishoprick of York was given to Dr. Drummond;110 and Hayter111 of Norwich, who had been disgraced with Lord Harcourt, was, by the interest of the same patron, Lord Talbot, promoted to the See of London. Newcastle vehemently opposed it, and solicited for Thomas of Lincoln,112 but received this thundering sentence from Lord Bute:—“If Thomas is such a favourite with your Grace, why did not you prefer him when you had the power?” The Duke, however, obtained the mitre of Norwich for Dr. Yonge; and being bidden to observe that the King’s answer to the address of Oxford on his marriage was kinder than that to Cambridge, he replied, it is true; but two of the new Bishops are Cambridge men—so easily did he comfort himself even with the shadow of power!
Here ended, almost as soon as it began, the credit of Lord Talbot. He was sometimes well, sometimes ill with Lord Bute, and though remaining in favour at Court, never seemed to have any influence there. A trifling circumstance, because it occasioned an event that made much noise afterwards, must be mentioned. As Lord Steward, Lord Talbot composed part of that ridiculous pageant at the coronation, the entry of the Champion. So fond was Lord Talbot of his share in this mummery, that he rehearsed his part on his steed in Westminster-hall, and carried his new Bishop of London to be witness of his feats. The Duke of York calling Hayter, who was lame, up to the haut pas, which he ascended with difficulty, the Bishop said, “You see, sir, how hard it is for me to get a step.” When the day came, Lord Talbot piqued himself on not turning his back to the King, and produced a strange hubbub of laughter by