IF we have met with unpleasant company in the late portion of our last chapter, the prospect before us is scarcely more inviting. We all know that if George the First was very vile, "viler still was George the Second"; yet it is not pleasant to be obliged to use so much black while portraying our Hanoverian kings. One of the principal duties of the historian is to erect alternately monuments and gallows. He must be prepared to raise a statue to Alfred the Good, or to hang John the Detestable in chains; the one as an encouragement, the other as a warning, to posterity.

But the duties of an historical Rambler are more

The new possessors of -King George and his wife, Caroline-had a numerous family, and some sketch of them is needed, that Englishmen may see what sort of a household once dwelt in their midst.

His Majesty, King George the Second, was a little red-faced man, with white eyebrows and goggle eyes, a man of low tastes and no intellect, unkingly in his person and still more so in his mind, passionate and avaricious, selfish and obstinate. "He had," says Lord Mahon, "scarcely one kingly quality, except personal courage and justice;" and when, in addition to these virtues, we have stated that he was temperate in his habits, and had a natural taste for business, we

If he cared for anyone besides himself, which is doubtful, it was for his wife, and well he might, for she was subservient to his every wish, and anxious to gratify all his tastes. If he got into a squabble with his mistresses in Hanover he detailed the affair at length, in letters of forty and sixty pages long, to Caroline, and asked for her advice on the matter. This single circumstance alone would lead us to doubt

What could be expected of the wife of such a husband. Has not our Poet Laureate declared that

"As the husband is-the wife is : thou art mated with a clown,

And the grossness of his nature will have weight to drag thee down.

***********

Yet it shall be : thou shalt lower to his level day by day:

What is fine within thee growing coarse, to sympathize with clay."

What Caroline might have been, had she married a Prince as intelligent, as agreeable, and as anxious to please as she herself was, we know not. But this we know, that the King's nature did drag her down almost to the level of his own, and let this be the excuse for those faults in her character, which so sorely need one.

It is, perhaps, questionable whether her ambition is to be reckoned among these failings. To this passion she sacrificed everything; nor did she make the sacrifice in vain. George might not perceive, or at least

"You may strut, dapper George, but 'twill all be in vain; We know 'tis Queen Caroline, not you that reign You govern no more than Don Philip of Spain. Then if you would have us fall down and adore you, Lock up your fat spouse, as your dad did before you."

The Queen's whole life was spent in endeavouring, to retain this influence. She made it, according to Walpole, "so invariable a rule never to refuse a desire of the King, that every morning at Richmond, she walked several miles with him; and more than once, when she had the gout in her foot, she dipped her whole leg in cold water, to be ready to attend him." Another contemporary writer, Lord Hervey, says, "She was at least seven or eight hours tete-a-tete with the King every day, during which time she was generally saying what she did not think, assenting to what she did not believe, and praising what she did not approve; for they were seldom of the same opinion, and he was too fond of his own for her ever

The Queen made many enemies, among whom the most bitter was Lord Chesterfield, whose epitaph on her shows to what an extent hatred may point satire.

" Here lies unpitied, both by Church and State, The subject of their flattery and hate : Flattered by those on whom her favours flow'd, Hated for favours impiously bestow'd; Who aimed the Church by Churchmen to betray, And hoped to share in arbitrary sway. In Tindal's and in Hoadley's paths she trod, An hypocrite in all but disbelief in God; Promoted luxury, encouraged vice, Herself a sordid slave to avarice. True friendship's tender love ne'er touched her heart Falsehood appear'd in vice disguised by art. Fawning and haughty; when familiar, rude, And never civil seem'd but to delude; Inquisitive in trifling, mean affairs, Heedless of public good or orphans' tears, To her own offspring mercy she denied, And unforgiving, unforgiven died."

But Chesterfield defeats his own object, and we are

Against those lines may be placed the verdict of a celebrated modern historian; that the "character of Caroline was without a blemish."

We may, in fact say of Caroline, paraphrasing the words of Hallam that, if casting away all prejudice on either side, we weigh her character in an equal balance, she will appear far indeed removed from the turpitude imputed to her by her enemies, yet not entitled to much veneration.

Such were the new master and mistress at . Their children inherited all the vices of the father. The eldest, Prince Frederick, is described by a contemporary as a poor, weak, irresolute, false, lying, dishonest, contemptible wretch. One of his sisters, the Princess Emily, was, we are told, "lively, false, and a great liar; did many ill offices to people, and no good ones. She had as many enemies as acquaintances, for nobody knew her without disliking her." Of the remainder of the family, one alone seemed to be possessed of any natural feeling. This was the Princess Caroline, who was always dutiful

Remembering the characters of the different members of the royal family, it is not to be wondered that disagreements among them were common; but never, perhaps, has there been such utter want of natural affection, such hatred between father and son, brother and sister, as existed in this miserable household. The King called Prince Frederick a "brainless, impertinent puppy and scoundrel." The Queen saidand it is a painful task to record that any mother should have uttered such words of any son-"I will give it you under my hand, if you have any fear of my relapsing, that my dear firstborn is the greatest ass, and the greatest liar, and the greatest canaille, and the greatest beast in the whole world, and that I most heartily wish he was out of it."

Nor was the Prince behind hand in similar compli ments. It was said that he openly declared that when he should come to the throne-which, for

The eldest daughter treated her father as an insuf ferable bore, and when, after her marriage, that father was passing through Holland, and the Princess lay dangerously ill at the Hague, he did not even inquire after the condition of his child.

With such a King, Queen, Princes, and Princesses, it may well be imagined that neither courtiers nor maids of honour were possessed of much refinement or good feeling.

A strange group, indeed, might then have been seen at Kensington. There was Mrs. Howard, the King's favourite, and bed-chamber woman to the Queen; and there was Mrs. Claypole, the Queen's confidante. Sir Robert Walpole must often have been there, scheming, plotting, arranging with the Queen. How well has pourtrayed him in the lines

" By favour and fortune fastidiously blest, He was loud in his laugh, and was coarse in his jest."

And above all, there was Lord Hervey, who flattered and lied to the Queen while she lived, and then tried to prove to posterity how bad she was, in his memoirs, which, resembling those of Charles Grenville, recently published, throw almost as much odium on their author as they do on the persons he satirises. Pope describes him as a reptile who

" At the ear of Eve (the Queen), familiar toad ! Half froth, half venom, spits himself abroad, * * * That, acting either part, The trifling head, or the corrupted heart, Fop at the toilet, flatt'rer at the board, Now trips a lady, and now struts a lord. Eve's tempter thus the Rabbins have express'd, A cherub's face, a reptile all the rest; Beauty that shocks you, parts that none will trust, Wit that can creep, and pride that licks the dust."

In one of his letters to Caroline, this court gadfly gives us a jocular description of his daily duties. They were such as brushing away flies, tasting the Queen's chocolate, mimicking her acquaintances, and, above all, talking a good deal of nonsense.

And how petty, how infamous, how spiritless, was the life at court in those days! Here is what Lord

QUEEN (to the Third Court Lady). The town is very empty, I believe, madam ? THIRD COURT LADY. Very empty, madam. QUEEN (to the Fourth Court Lady). I hope all your family is very well, madam ? FOURTH COURT LADY. Very well, madam. QUEEN (to the Fifth Court Lady). We have had the finest summer for walking in the world. FIFTH COURT LADY. Very fine madam.

From this same Court Drama, which was written by Hervey for the amusement of his royal mistress, we learn that Caroline usually came down about nine, and would breakfast off a little sour cream and fruit.

Sometimes, however, the interviews at Kensington were more stormy. At the time of Walpole's Excise scheme, the opposition determined to remonstrate with the Queen on the measure-no slight proof of the state power she was supposed to possess. Lord Stair was the person whom they selected, and the noble lord lectured Caroline until she could stand it no longer, and bade him learn better manners. "My conscience," remonstrated Lord Stair. "Don't talk to me about conscience, my Lord," returned the Queen

It was at Kensington that Queen Caroline generally resided during the absence of the King in Hanover, where George spent much of his time, and whence he usually returned out of temper with himself and with everybody. On one of these occasions Caroline had ventured to make some trifling improvements at , and had replaced some dauby oilpaintings by masterpieces of Vandyke, and other eminent artists. The King was enraged; and when Lord Hervey endeavoured to reconcile him to the change, blurted out," I suppose you assisted the Queen with your fine advice when she was pulling my house to pieces and spoiling all my furniture. Thank God, at least she has left the walls standing. As for the Vandykes, I do not care whether they are changed or not; but for the picture with the dirty frame over the door, and the three nasty little children, I will have them taken away and the old ones restored, I will

The King was in an equally bad temper on the following morning, and entering the gallery where the Queen and her children were taking chocolate, " he snubbed the Queen for being always stuffing, the Princess Amelia for not hearing him, the Princess Caroline for being grown fat, the Duke of Cumberland for standing awkwardly; and then he carried the Queen out to walk, to be re-snubbed again."

During another of the King's journeys to his beloved Hanover, the popular discontent became so high that it was necessary to double the guards at the surburban palace. It was on the occasion of this visit that his Majesty narrowly escaped being drowned on his voyage home. For some time it was very generally believed in London that the reign of the second George was over; and when at last news arrived of the King's safety, the people remarked that " it was God's mercy and a thousand pities."

It seems to have been about this time also that the fracas between the Queen and her eldest son's wife occurred. The Queen was regular in her attendance

The Princess of Wales was, in fact, the tool of her husband, and is said to have been harmless enough, and stupid almost to idiocy. She would sit at the windows of the whole day long, and amuse herself with a gigantic jointed doll, nurseing and fondling, dressing and undressing it, greatly to the amusement of the sentinels and any occasional passers by. The Princess Caroline remonstrated with her sister-in-law, and desired that at least the dollfondling might be carried on at a distance from the windows, adding that the people thought-and in this case with very good reason-every thing ridiculous

Her princely husband looked out of the windows of to little better purpose. Stand ing there one day, and seeing Bubb Doddington go by, he remarked, " That man is reckoned one of the most sensible men in England; and yet, with all his cleverness, I have just nicked him out of £5,000."

The name of Queen Caroline does not figure in the death-roll of , and we are glad it does not; for her death-bed was such a scene of mingled solemnity and buffoonery as to render it a fearfully painful incident.

Shortly afterwards, Sophia de Walmoden, the king's mistress, was installed at the Palace, and very nearly proved the cause of its destruction. Finding that the apartments assigned to her were damp, she kept up such a fire that the woodwork caught, though fortunately no serious consequences ensued. There were other rooms which she could have had, but, writes Walpole, "the King hoards all he can, and has locked up half the palace since the Queen's death."

Not four years after the latter event, Frederick,

Where the Prince's own father manifested so little emotion, it was not to be expected that the nation would be deeply touched; and the Jacobites celebrated the event in the following mock epitaph:

"Here lies Fred,

Who was alive and is dead !

Had it been his father,

I had much rather;

Had it been his brother,

Still better than another;

Had it been his sister,

No one could have missed her;

Had it been the whole generation,

Still better for the nation;

But since 'tis only Fred,

Who was alive and is dead,

There is no more to be said."

Frederick's eldest son, afterwards George the Third, was now heir to the crown, and some years later the King offered his grandson apartments at Kensington,

Lord Hervey, writing in I736, says, " The road between this place and London has grown so infamously bad, that we may live in the same solitude as we would do if cast away on a rock in the middle of the ocean, and all the Londoners tell us there is between them and us a great impassable gulf of mud. There are two ways through the Park, but the new one is so convex, and the old one is so concave, that by this extreme of faults they agree in the common one of being, like the high road, impassable."

The consequence of such a state of things was that accidents were frequent. When coming from Kensington one Sunday night, the Duke of Grafton was upset in a large deep pit. The duke dislocated his collarbone, and the coachman broke his leg. On another occasion, as the four princesses were driving to town from the Palace in a coach-and-six, they were driven

These same princesses had, however, little care for the nerves of others. On one occasion, Princess Emily pulled Lady Deloraine's chair from under her, and even his gracious Majesty did not scruple to be much amused at her ladyship, who was governess to the Princesses, sprawling on the floor. But George did not relish the joke so much when it was played upon himself by the aggrieved countess, and Lady Deloraine was at once banished from the court.

One more event only remains to be recorded of King George in connection with the Palace. It was here he died. He was now seventy-seven years of age, and it was noticed by the people that at the commencement of , the oldest lion in the Tower died, and that the animal was about the same age as his

The third George never resided at Kensington, nor did his son the Fourth and last of that name, though

Such was the lady selected as consort for the heirapparent to the British crown, afterwards George the Fourth of glorious memory. The marriage was easily arranged. Master Georgie had run into debt, and papa at last refused to provide any more money unless Georgie would marry and reform. Making the best

They were "marvellously heterogeneous in their composition,' says one of her occasional visitors; "There were good people and very bad ones, fine ladies and fine gentlemen, humdrums and clever people."

The Princess would chat about her domestic affairs in the most free and easy manner, for she took good care that there were no eaves-dropping servants in the room to make reports to Carlton House. Sydney Smith was often there, and no doubt amused the party by launching at the absent husband some of his sharp

Yet Caroline seems to have feared that it was all cupboard friendship, " Unless I show dem de knife and fork," she writes, "no company has come to Kensington or Blackheath, and neither my purse nor my spirits can always afford to hang out de offer of an ordinary."

Her prettiness was leaving her. Lady Brownlow, in her reminiscences, describes her figure as fat and shapeless, her complexion good, her eyes bright blue, but with a bold expression, caused perhaps by the quantity of rouge she wore.

" Her fair hair hung in masses of curls on each side of her throat like a lion's mane." She dressed showily, ornamenting her gowns with gold or silver spangles, and embroidering her satin boots with them. "Some times she wore a scarlet mantle with a gold trimming round it hanging from her shoulder," the effect of which was strangely grotesque.

Caroline, indeed, seems to have striven against any misgivings she may have felt, and at the same time to have endeavoured to drown all unpleasant memories by

Yet we would not judge her harshly; better perhaps

" In the dead, unhappy night,

And when the rain is on the roof,

* * * *

And thou art staring at the wall;

Where the dying night-lamp flickers,

And the shadows rise and fall."

Those passionate longings for purer happiness and a peaceful life, which she must sometimes have felt, may have spent themselves in bitter tears when all was quiet, and the moonbeams were stealing in at the bedroom window in all their solemn midnight stillness.

Her excuse is her husband-a man who was pro bably the worst who ever wore a crown, and whose only virtues were that he was King of England, and that his clothes fitted him faultlessly.

Caroline did not reside long at the Palace, and thus

On the , a procession started from Brandenburgh House, Hammersmith, bearing the remains of" the injured Queen of England " to Harwich, whence they were to be conveyed to the family vault at . The Government had decided that the cortege should avoid the city; the mob, always favourable to the cause of the Queen, resolved that it should be borne in triumph through the metropolis. As the procession attempted to pass up Church Street, Kensington, it was forced backwards by the rioters, and compelled to continue its march towards London. At Kensington Gate a similar scene took place with similar consequences. But when Park Lane was reached, the military, spite of barricades, spite of showers of stones and brickbats, forced a passage through the mob, and the funeral train trotted up past the Marble Arch (then Cumberland Gate). But the battle was not yet won. At Tottenham Court Road

Little good or evil did the struggle benefit the lifeless dust which could no more suffer or inflict injury. The story is a melancholy one, written in English history as a warning which may profit while it saddens. Her husband had his wish. His wife was gone for ever. Of such characters as his the less said the better, for all that can be said must be evil.

At last we have come to the end of the Georges, and never did we take leave of a subject with a greater feeling of thankfulness that a most disagreeable task was concluded than we now do. Without every minute circumstance of a king's court life be known, his character can never be fairly judged, for no part of a king's life is private. All the court tittle-tattle, every hasty word, every trivial action, forms part of that historic life which leads us into the very spirit of the age we are describing. But we cannot but hope-and in this wish we are assured our fellow-ramblers will heartily join-that for the future we may meet with