The dignity of the monarch, as well as his humility on this august occasion, have been celebrated by the late Bishop Newton. "The king's whole behaviour at the coronation," he says, "was justly admired and commended by every one, and particularly his manner of seating himself on the throne after his coronation. No actor in the character of Pyrrhus, in the Distressed Mother,--not even Booth himself, who was celebrated for it in the Spectator[110],--ever ascended the throne with so much grace and dignity. There was another particular which those only could observe who sat near the Communion-Table, as did the prebendaries of Westminster. When the king approached the communion-table, in order to receive the sacrament, he inquired of the archbishop, Whether he should not lay aside his crown? The archbishop asked the Bishop of Rochester, but neither of them knew, nor could say, what had been the usual form. The king determined within himself that humility best became such a solemn act of devotion, and took off the crown, and laid it aside during the administration."
That one of the last of the unfortunate race of the Stuarts, Prince Charles, was in London, if not present at the coronation feast, on this occasion, seems to be a fact pretty well established. The Gentleman's Magazine, 1764, (p. 28,) speaks of it as "publicly said, That the young Pretender himself came from Flanders to see the coronation; that he was in Westminster Hall (?) during the ceremony, and in London two or three days before and after it, under the name of Mr. Brown." And Mr. Hume thus writes to one of his literary friends:--"What will surprise you more, Lord Marshal, a few days after the coronation of the present king, told me, that he believed the young Pretender was at that time in London, or, at least, had been so very lately, and had come over to see the show of the coronation, and had actually seen it. I asked my lord the reason for this strange fact. 'Why,' says he, 'a gentleman told me so who saw him there, and whispered in his ear--'Your royal highness is the last of all mortals whom I should expect to see here.'--'It was curiosity that led me,' said the other: 'but I assure you,' added he, 'that the person who is the cause of all this pomp and magnificence, is the man I envy the least.'" A report recently found its way to the public papers, which we have not been able to trace to any authentic source, that a glove was actually thrown from an upper seat in the Hall, as a gage to the king's champion, at this period: that the champion receiving it from his attendants, asked, 'who was his fair foe?' and that the rumour of the day soon connected it with the appearance, and attributed it to the romantic dispositions of the young Chevalier.