GELSE I ended his rim bran act that would have sent a humbler man straight :: Newgate. Genre I began his reign by an act that would have placed any nobleman in his court in the 011 Bailey dock. A very short time before his lamented death, George I. burnt the will of his unhappy wife and that of her father, the Duke of Zell, in order, as (ueen Caroline told Walpole, to deprive the son whom he detested of some important bequests At the first council held by George II. Dr. Wake, the Archbishop of Canterbury, produced the cld King's will, in order that it should be opened and publicly read. The little monand instantly snapped at the paper, put it in his pocket, and left the room. It was never seen again. Rumour says it was at chce thrown into the fire. It was generally reported that the King had left 400 to his mistress, the Duchess of Kendal, and a large legacy to his daughter, the Queen of Prussia. It is asserted that Lord Chesterfield, who married the Duchess's niece, pressed his claim out of spite, on having been proscribed the ocurt, and received a sop in the pan of 20,000 to step his clamereus barking. The great Frederick also made frequent rough demands for money to the King his unde, whom he hated.

In morals George II. was quite as disreputable as lis father. The King was gallant because he thought it fashionable even to appear to be so. He made love to Mrs. Howard, one of his wife's bedchamberwomen, a grave, gentle woman, who, in spite of her ambiguous position, preserved the respect of the whole court by the outward propriety and decency of her behaviour. Walpole describes the lady as extremely fair, and with beautiful seft light-brown hair; her features were regular and agreeable rather than beautiful. Her husband, a violent, rapacious man, eager for compensation, discovered the intrigue, and used to come and vociferously demand his wife before the soldiers of the guard in the quadrangle of St. James's Palace. He even wrote her an angry letter, and sent it by the Queen's own hand. When the King (then Prince) removed to Richmond, there being an apprehension that the virtuous husband would carry off his frail wife by force, Mrs. Howard was smuggled away to the Duke of Argyle's country-house. indignant husband was eventually pacified by a pension of 1200% a year; and the sale of the lady being once effected he never troubled her again. The King, having a horror lest he should le governed, like his father,

The

by his mistresses, seldom granted her any favours, stinted her in money, and when he grew tired of her made no provision for the woman he had once pretended to love. The King was one of those dull men who, as Lord Hervey cleverly said, "seem to think that having done a thing to-day is an unanswerable reason for doing it to-morrow." Even in visiting Mrs. Howard he was stupidly methodical. He went to see her every evening at nine. He frequently walked about his own chamber for ten minutes with the watch in his hand, till the hourhand reached the first figure of the nine. Poor woman, she spent a miserable life; for the King insulted her, and the Queen watched every opportunity to heap on her the bitterest mortifications. One day, while she was putting on the Queen's neckerchief, the King, in a spiteful humour, snatched it off, exclaiming to the poor woman: "Because you have an ugly neck yourself, you wish to hide her majesty's!" Later in life Lady Suffolk became deaf, and the King grew tired of her; but the Queen, fearing to be supplanted by a new and younger favourite, urged her to stay at St. James's. The King grumbled at this, and used to say: "I don't know why you will not let me part with a deaf old woman of whom I am weary." Lady Suffolk, on her husband's death, married again, and ended her days tranquilly at her villa in Twickenham.

Madame de Walmoden, afterwards the Countess of Yarmouth, another of the King's favourites, possessed some influence over him, but hardly dared to ask the smallest favour in her own person. "If it be known that I have applied," she used to say, "I shall have no chance of succeeding."

Wishing to rule King George, and devotedly fond of her ill-conditioned and faithless husband, the Queen permitted his amours, and even constantly told him, by word and letter, how very unworthy she was of him. He too, with a gross want of delicacy that even in those times is almost inconceivable, used to praise Madame de Walmoden in his epistles to the Queen from Hanover. "I know you will love De Walmoden," he says in one letter, "because she loves me." Queen Caroline bore with these amours, which were to her a ceaseless vexation, partly from love, but still more to maintain her influence over the King, whom she secretly governed. The Duke of Grafton's amiable theory was, that Caroline loved no one, and therefore could not be jealous; for jealousy is only love turned sour. Sir Robert Walpole, who knew the court well, and had learnt to manage it, always declared that "the King esteemed the Queen above all other women, and loved Queen Caroline's little finger better than Lady Suffolk's whole body." When a man says, "I am determined to be master in my own house," you may be sure he is not master, and never will be. George II. was fond of saying this.

The Queen-a daughter of the Margrave of Anspach-though very fat, and marked with the smallpox, was considered by her courtiers to

have expressive eyes, a captivating voice, and small and finely-shaped hands. She was a woman of firmness and good sense, and ruled her unworthy husband under the guise of being a humble, submissive wife, ignorant and careless of state affairs. Even when the prime minister entered the King's apartment, to discuss business long before decided between him and the Queen, she would rise, curtsy, and offer to retire. The King, proud as most weak men are of the authority they believe they possess, would on these occasions often exclaim self-consciously, "There, Sir Robert, you see how much I am governed by my vife; yet dey say I am-ha, ha! It is a fine ting to be governed by

vone's vife!"

The Queen always curtsied to her attendants if she met them in the palace, even to "my good Howard," as she called the woman whom she most detested. She was a brave, sturdy person, of high spirit, and was one of the earliest supporters of inoculation, when as yet it had been in England only practised on criminals. When the Porteous riots took place in Edinburgh, in her temporary regency, she declared that she would avenge such an insult, even if she had to turn Scotland into a hunting-ground. She was a devoted wife, and even when suffering from a dangerous complaint, concealed it, in order to attend the King in his morning walks at Richmond; and more than once, when she had the gout terribly in her foot, she drove back the disorder by bathing in cold water, in order not to be prevented from attending her husband. It was she who threw away such sums of public money on Kensington Gardens; and it was she who christened the string of ponds in Hyde Park, which were formed into one long sheet of water, now so familiar to us as the Serpentine. She never forgave her son Frederick the unnatural aversion he had shown his parents, and sternly refused to see him, even on her deathbed. "And unforgiving, unforgiven dies!" writes Chesterfield. That last scene of all Mr. Thackeray mocks with his usual cynical bitterness. The King, whose fondness revived when death was about to separate them, had been watching unceasingly by her bedside, refusing either rest or refreshment. When death approached, she said to her disconsolate husband, "George, you must marry again." "No, Caroline-no, meiner liebe," said the King; "non, j'aurai des maî"Ah, mon Dieu," cried the Queen, "cela n'empêche pas Although affecting a fondness for the study of divinity, the Queen was said to be sceptical, and it is supposed that she refused to receive the sacrament from the hands of Archbishop Potter, who, to all inquiries as to the fact, replied only, like a true courtier, “Her majesty was in a heavenly disposition." She died with dignity, saying to her family, “ Pray aloud, do, that I may hear you!" She then faintly repeated the Lord's Prayer, calmly lay down, waved her hand, and expired. The King detailed to Sir Robert, with tears streaming from his eyes, the virtues of his Queen, who, from her noble and calm disposition, had been such a relief and assistance to him in governing so humorsome

and fickle a people as the English. "Henceforward," he said, "I shall lead a helpless, disconsolate, uncomfortable life. I do not know what to do, or which way to turn." But shortly after Madame de Walmoden came over from Hanover, created Countess of Yarmouth, and his inconsolable grief was consoled. Yet the King still used to declare that he never saw the woman worthy to buckle Caroline's shoe.

George II. led a dull methodical life at St. James's. He rose at seven in all weathers, transacted business, drove out, and then spent his evening at cards, with Lady Yarmouth and one or two officers of the household, in his daughter's apartments. Every Saturday in summer he drove to Richmond, without his daughters, and dined there. The party went about noon, in a ponderous court-coach, drawn by six horses, the Horse-Guard escort enveloping them in dust; and returned in the same wearisome procession.

The King was notoriously parsimonious, and when Prince is said to have so disgusted Miss Bellenden, a maid-of-honour, with whom he was in love, by counting his guineas, that she exclaimed saucily, "Sir, I cannot bear it; if you count out your money any more, I will go out of the room."

Like many mean persons, the King had fits of liberality. He once gave the University of Cambridge 20007. to defray the expense of a public dinner in Trinity Hall. He is also said to have consented to pay a witty Dutch landlord, who had charged his suite nearly 1007. for a luncheon of eggs, coffee, and gin.* He once let a guinea by accident roll under the door of a wood-closet in his bedroom, and he made the page-in-waiting at once buckle to and help to remove the billets. However, when he found it, he gave it the boy.

He was a great stickler for etiquette, yet, even at court, etiquette was hardly so inexorable then as now. On one occasion, a stranger to the palace, when on a visit to some of the King's retinue, slipped down a flight of stairs, and, bursting open the door of a room in his fall, was precipitated, stunned, upon the floor. When the man came to his senses, he found a severe little old gentleman, with white eyebrows and a red face, carefully washing his bald head, and applying bars of stickingplaster to the cuts. The amateur surgeon then picked up the wig of the injured man, and replaced it on his head. The man rose to express his gratitude; but the little man with the sponge frowned, and pointed to the door. It was the King, and the room so abruptly entered was the royal closet.

George II. was as irascible as he was pugnacious.† He once violently

"Eggs are scarce, I suppose, Mynheer," said the King, when he perused the royal bill. "No, your majesty, but kings are," replied mine host.-ED. BELGRAVIA, † His majesty was once seized with a fancy for a hasty-pudding at an hour when the royal cooks and scullions had struck work, and the kitchens were deserted. "Vot!" he thundered, "sall I be King of England, and not have a pudding-in-a-hurry for my supper? Gott dam !"-ED.

kicked the shins of Dr. Ward the quack, who had roughly twisted the royal thumb and given the King pain; but he afterwards gave the successful impostor, whom Hogarth ridiculed, a carriage and horses, and presented his nephew with an ensigney in the Guards. He used to scold his ministers, and he declared that the Duke of Newcastle was not fit to be chamberlain to the smallest court of Germany. When Lord Chesterfield one day teased him about an appointment he wished given to a personal friend, and almost forced him to sign the paper, the choleric King vociferated, "Give it to Beelzebub!" The hunchbacked nobleman with the beetle eyebrows replied wittily: "Shall I address it as usual-To our trusty and well-beloved cousin'?" The King laughed, was appeased, and gave way.

Yet, with all his meanness, vanity, and coarse vice, there was a soldier's spirit about the little red-faced man. It was all they could do to prevent his fighting his brother-in-law, the King of Prussia. George fixed the place and even chose his second. This King of Prussia was the insane brute whom Mr. Carlyle has tried to transform into a hero. He used to strike and kick women he met in the streets; he bullied his wife, tried to throw his daughter out of window, and was once on the point of beheading his son, afterwards the great Frederick.

When the French ambassador at a review once asked King George if he had ever seen the gendarmes (who had been beaten off at Dettingen by our troops), the King replied with more than his usual sharpness: "No, sare; but I can dell you, and so can dey, dat my Scotch Greys have."

To a nobleman, a pickthank and eavesdropper, notorious for cowardice, who used to bring scandalous reports of his son from Leicester Fields, the King said, indignant at hearing his son called "fool:""De Haus of Bronsvig may have produce as many fool as any vone sovereign haus in Europe; but, sturm and wetter! it never vos known to produce von coward or poltroon, my lord duke.”

That was tolerably hard hitting.

When the Pretender was at Derby, with his face to London, and the King heard that the council-board at St. James's Palace was taking measures to secure his (George's) sacred person, he entered the room in his choleric way, and said: "Gentlemen, dake care of yourselves; for myself, I am resolved to die King of England.”

Yet even his courage was of a vain and strutting kind; and Mr. Thackeray certainly entirely mistakes the manner in which his custom on grand days of appearing in his Dettingen dress was received in the council-chamber at St. James's. Handel's grand battle "Te Deum," and a blustering sort of ode, both written for the occasion, used to be sung and performed on the anniversaries of the great battle of 1743, that saved our army when the French had out-manoeuvred and sur