|After an illness that lasted six weeks, King George, who knew the
seriousness of its nature, made a speech before the House of Peers,
during which he asked that an act might be passed enabling him from time
to time to appoint the queen or some other member of the royal family
as guardian to the heir-apparent, and regent of the kingdom. Parliament
granted this right.
The Duke of Cumberland died at this time. It will be remembered that he
was the favorite son of Queen Caroline, and uncle of George III. Never
was there so popular a prince, or one so winning in his ways when he was
young; but his health began to fail by the time he was twenty years of
age, and he was only forty-four at the time of his death. A paralytic
stroke had almost deprived him of the sight of one eye in his youth, and
a wound received on his leg at the battle of Dettingen, when he
fought so bravely at his father's side, had left him lame. He was so
unfortunate on the battle-field afterwards that he retired to private
life, and devoted himself to gaming and horse-racing. Then he ceased
to be a favorite; for right-minded people could not approve of such a
senseless waste of time. There is one anecdote that shows a good trait
in his character, even while he was leading a useless life.
The duke's death was followed by that of his majesty's youngest brother,
Prince Frederick, and these two events {162}cast a gloom over the royal
family for some time. The king and queen were then living at Richmond,
and amused themselves by visiting places in the neighborhood. Their
household was maintained on a very modest scale, and with a small
retinue of servants. The birth of their first daughter occurred this
year, and she was christened Charlotte Augusta. This event was succeeded
by the marriage of the king's niece, Caroline Matilda, with Christian
VII., King of Denmark. A most unfortunate union this one proved, for the
groom was in every respect a man of detestable character, and treated
his poor wife with extreme cruelty. Before ten years of married life had
passed away, this queen had been carried to Zell for safety by a British
fleet, and there she lived and died, neglected and forgotten.
[[A.D. 1768.]] We have spoken of the economy of George III. and his
wife; but they sometimes gave entertainments that were occasions of
great display when they were in town, and formed a striking contrast to
their simple, private life in the country.
Meanwhile, the royal couple were happy and contented in their domestic
life. When they were at Kew they rose at six-o'clock, and spent a
couple of hours doing exactly as they pleased, undisturbed by business
of any sort, and untrammelled by ceremony. At eight o'clock there was
a lively family breakfast, at which the sovereigns were surrounded by
their children, who at this meal were permitted to chatter freely. This
was a privilege, for in public they were taught to be silent, and it was
at this time in the day that parents and children became best acquainted
with each other. The king was so fond of riding that he passed much time
between breakfast and dinner on horseback, and even went in the rain
sometimes in this manner to attend a council meeting at St. James's.
{163}
[Illustration: 0169]
{165}Queen Charlotte, and often the king too,
presided at the children's early dinner; and every week there was a
family excursion to Richmond Gardens, where, while the young people
played, the queen would do some needle-work, and his majesty would read
aloud to her, generally from Shakespeare. In this pleasant manner the
children of George III. and Charlotte passed their early lives; and, as
the Prince of Wales and his brother of York grew older, they had a piece
of ground in the garden at Kew, which they cultivated with their own
hands. There they sowed wheat, attended the growth of their little crop,
weeded and gathered it all by themselves. They even went further: for
they threshed the grain, ground it, and attended the whole process of
making it into bread, which was eaten by the royal family with great
relish.
The Duke of York was a very little boy when he was found one day in the
cottage of one of the villagers, who lived near Kew, seated on a low
stool shelling peas, his occupation being shared by a pretty little
fair-haired girl, with whom he fancied he was very much in love. He
was closely watched after that, and not permitted to run after rustic
beauties any more.
Queen Charlotte and George III. both patronized art, though they were
rather deficient in taste. A charter was granted to the society of
artists, and Joshua Reynolds, its first president, was knighted, though
the king preferred the paintings of some less gifted artists. Benjamin
West, who succeeded Sir Joshua as president of the society, was such
a favorite that in the course of thirty years he painted sixty-four
pictures for George III., and received a very liberal sum of money for
them. Once, when a picture by Wilson, which had been ordered for the
royal collection, was shown to the king, he exclaimed: "Hey! What!
Do you call _this painting?_ Take it away; I call it daubing!
{166}Hey--what!--'T is a mere daub!" He then inquired what Wilson
expected for his work; and, on being told a hundred guineas, he declared
it was the dearest picture he ever saw: "Too much,--too much," added his
majesty; "tell him I say so."
[[A.D. 1772.]] The death of his mother was a great sorrow to George, for
he was tenderly attached to her. He had shown his devotion by visiting
her regularly every evening at eight o'clock, in company with Queen
Charlotte, and she had been his guardian and adviser ever since
the death of his father. Princess Augusta's character has been so
differently estimated that it is impossible to form a correct judgment
of it; but it is allowed by all that she was benevolent, and possessed
many good qualities. She certainly was honest in paying off, out of her
own income, the heavy debts that her husband left. Let us accept what
Bishop Newton, her chaplain, said of her: "The calmness and composure
of her death were further proofs and attestations of the goodness of her
life; and she died, as she had lived, beloved and lamented most by those
who knew her best.".
Meanwhile, children were being added to the royal family, and Queen
Charlotte devoted herself to their care and education. One day a visitor
was surprised at seeing one of the princesses, then six years of age,
run to her mother with a book in her hand, and tearfully exclaim,
"Madam, I cannot comprehend it! I cannot comprehend it!"
"Well, my child," said the queen, "do not be alarmed; what you cannot
comprehend to-day you may comprehend to-morrow; and what you cannot
attain to this year, you may arrive at the next. Do not, therefore, be
frightened with little difficulties; but attend to what you do know, and
the rest will come in time."
"This," said the visitor afterwards, "was good common sense, and a
golden rule well worthy our observation."
[A.D. 1773.] {167}Let us see what progress literature made in this
reign. Though George II. never looked at a book if he could possibly
avoid it,--and he generally managed' to do so,--literature began to
improve in his day, and many periodicals were established. These gave
rise to a new class of writers, who called themselves critics. They
began by merely giving a list of the new books that appeared. After
a time short notices accompanied the titles, and the contents of the
works, with opinions as to the merit or demerit were given. This was the
origin of the reviews, which at the present time form such an important
part of the magazine articles of the present day. This class of
periodicals became numerous after the accession of George III.; but the
critics did not confine themselves to notices of books, for they took
delight in abusing people, and brought to light a large amount of
private scandal, by resorting to the use of fictitious names. The charm
of the writings of such men as Fielding and Smollett, as well as the
memoirs and novels of other authors, consisted in the facility of
recognizing the portraits of well-known individuals of the day, whose
weaknesses were often presented in false and glaring colors. These
critics spent their whole time in coffee-houses and at the theatres,
where they were ever on the alert for any bit of gossip, that, whether
true or false, they managed to work up into an interesting and spicy
article for their papers. Of course there was no end of quarrels
resulting from such proceedings; but these men would have starved if the
periodicals had not existed, for the House of Hanover did not patronize
literary men. To be sure, Queen Charlotte did procure a pension of two
hundred pounds a year for Beattie; but neither she nor Lord Bute,
when he was in power, used much judgment in the granting of pensions,
excepting with regard to Hogarth, Johnson, and Smollett. The last had
no regular sum settled {168}on him; but he was engaged to edit "The
Briton," a weekly paper, devoted to abusing Pitt and all the popular
party.
As for music, both George and his queen were devoted to this branch of
art, and encouraged George Frederick Handel to establish an academy for
its advancement; but it soon broke up on account of rivalry. Then Handel
returned to the continent, and in his native land devoted himself to the
production of those noble oratorios that gave him celebrity and wealth.
Many years later, when King George, who delighted in Handel's oratorios,
was listening to one of them, a thunderstorm came up. "How sublime!"
exclaimed his majesty. "What an accompaniment! How this would have
delighted Handel!"
Queen Charlotte excited the ire of some of the court ladies when she
issued a decree against the enormous head-dresses that were then in
fashion. She was prompted to this not without some provocation; for
a dowager-duchess had appeared at a drawing-room with a structure
of jewels and feathers a yard and a quarter in height,--almost too
ridiculous to be believed. It had become the fashion to pile up the hair
to at least half a yard above the head; and this was done by spreading
it thinly over pads of wool, tow, or hemp, and sticking it in place
with pomatum and other compounds. After this structure had attained the
desired proportions, it was finished off with great bunches of flowers
and feathers, interspersed with sparkling jewels. But as this was the
work of two or three hours, it must not be supposed that it was repeated
every day. No, indeed! Once in two or three weeks was considered often
enough for brushing and combing; and we shudder to think of what must
have been the contents of the puffs that these great ladies carried
about so proudly. {169}No history tells how they managed to sleep,
or the suffering that such a weight on top of the head must have
occasioned, but everybody must agree in considering Queen Charlotte a
wise woman for altering such a filthy, silly fashion. To the front wire
was attached a string, by which the wearer could draw up her hood or
let it fall back at will. It must not be imagined that ladies' heads
exceeded their bodies in size; for, to insure symmetry, enormous
hoop-skirts, oval in shape, and spreading out suddenly over the hips,
were worn, making a slender waist look very wasplike. A long, loose
cloak, fastened at the throat, was the outer garment, which, with the
hood described above, must have given a woman the appearance of
an animated woolsack. These ladies had so much trouble to squeeze
themselves in and out of carriages, large and cumbersome though they
were, that it was suggested to manufacture them with movable tops, and
then, by means of pulleys and ropes, gently raise the wearers of hoops
and gigantic head-gear, and lower them into the vehicle, thus avoiding
damage to their toilets.
The fashions for the lords of creation were not less ridiculous than
those of the women, though different. Many of the rich young men of
England had visited Italy, and from that sunny land of the South, they
brought back not what was virtuous and sensible, but all the follies
and vices that it was possible to imitate. These travellers formed
themselves into a club, which, in honor of Italy, they called the
"Macaroni Club." They were distinguished by an immense bunch of false
hair hanging down the back, the head being surmounted by a tiny cocked
hat. A closely-fitting short jacket, waistcoat, and knee-breeches
completed the attire, and each Macaroni carried an enormous
walking-stick, ornamented with silk cords and tassels. A man thus
attired must have presented an exceedingly {170}droll appearance; yet
the style became popular, and was even adopted by members of the clergy,
whose hats were made, clothing cut, and wigs combed _à la macaroni_.
There were dances, songs, and music, called Macaroni, and nothing was
popular that was not sufficiently trifling, showy, and affected to
belong to the macaronic class. This manner of dress excited so much
ridicule that it was altered before very long, and gave place to a
higher style of dressing the hair. Then the beaux wore nosegays on their
breasts, large enough to fill a good-sized mantel-vase. Walpole says of
the members of the fashionable club, after complaining of a dull winter
in politics: "Even our macaronies entertain the town with nothing but
new dresses and the size of their nosegays. They have lost all their
money, and exhausted all their credit, and can no longer game for twenty
thousand pounds a night."
Queen Charlotte's maids-of-honor grumbled a good deal at the changes
their mistress instituted in the fashions; but they were ready to
mutiny when she made it a rule of her household that they should not
be provided with supper. However, a compromise was affected,--their
salaries were raised, and each maid-of-honor received a thousand pounds
on her marriage as a gift from the queen. This was very benevolent on
the part of her majesty, and there are many equally kind, considerate
acts told of her. Here is one that she managed very gracefully.
[[A.D. 1779.]] In one of the battles off the French coast, near Brest, a
mate named William Moore was so desperately wounded in the shoulder and
leg by the blowing up of a vessel that it was not supposed he would ever
be fit for service again. While he was lying in bed, a kinsman named
Ashburner, who often sold dry goods at court, was one day exhibiting his
wares to Queen Charlotte, when he adroitly managed to mention the name
of Moore, and then {171}related all the circumstances of his hard fate.
Her majesty was touched by the story, and told Ashburner to send the
mate to Windsor, where she was then living, as soon as he was well
enough to travel. Such a command was balm to the wounded man, who,
before the lapse of three days, was not only comfortably lodged at the
palace, but watched and tended by the queen's own surgeon, and provided
with a competent nurse.
It was many weeks before the invalid was cured; but at last he asked
permission to thank his royal benefactress, and was admitted to her
presence. He faltered out a few awkward sentences, turning red and pale
by turns; but ended by assuring her majesty that he was equal to the
performance of duty again. "So I hear from the doctor," replied the
queen, "and I have spoken about you to the king, and, there, Mr. Moore,
is his majesty's acknowledgment for your gallantry and sufferings when
afloat." The man took the paper, but wondered why so much was said
about the performance of a mere act of duty. "Will you not see what his
majesty says, Mr. Moore?" asked the queen, as the man sidled towards the
door. He silently obeyed, and, on opening the document, found that he
had been promoted to a lieutenancy on board the "Mercury." Some years
later Moore became a captain, which proves that Queen Charlotte's
charity was judiciously bestowed. The commander of the vessel on which
Moore was injured lost his life when it blew up; and for his widow and
children her majesty obtained such a liberal pension that they could
enjoy not only the comforts, but many of the luxuries of life. These are
only a couple of a large number of Queen Charlotte's benevolent deeds.
Few persons interested themselves more to rescue Dr. Dodd from the hands
of the executioner than the queen. William Dodd was a popular divine
of the Church of England, {172}as well as a voluminous writer. But he
committed several errors in the course of his life, which was violently
ended because of a check which he forged for a large sum of money on
Lord Chesterfield. Queen Charlotte argued that a man occupying the holy
office of minister of the Gospel ought not to be punished like a common
criminal; but the king replied, that the crime was the more heinous
because committed by a clergyman, and declared that the law must take
its course.
[[A.D. 1780.]] There came a year of riots in London, occasioned by the
repeal of certain laws against the Catholics. Queen Charlotte was called
upon for the exercise of considerable courage at this period, for she
was left almost alone at Buckingham House, with her children, while the
mob set the city on fire in several places, and behaved so disgracefully
that there was no telling where they would stop. The king, who was hated
by a large portion of his subjects, spent two nights at the queen's
riding-house with his council, where he was constantly receiving reports
of the doings of the rioters. At length it was decided to fire on them,
yet the king mercifully hesitated to give the necessary directions to
his troops; and even when St. James's Palace was assailed, he ordered
the soldiers not to fire if they could possibly help it; but to keep the
crowd off with their bayonets. Thus, those of his enemies who pronounced
George a stubborn man were bound to acknowledge that he was also a
merciful one.
[[A.D. 1783.]] Having reached the age of twenty-one, the-Prince of Wales
was allotted an establishment of his own at Carlton House, which had
been the residence of his grandfather, whom he is said to have resembled
in many respects. Then parliament settled upon him a hundred thousand
pounds, besides an annual income of fifty thousand. Thus liberally
provided for, he devoted himself to {173}a life of indulgence and
idleness, and incurred the displeasure of the king, both on account
of his vices and his politics. He entered the House of Peers, and in
following the lead of the opposition party, imitated the example of the
Georges who had preceded him. In spite of his liberal allowance, he got
into debt, which his so-called friends solicited the king to pay.
[Illustration: 0179]
The conduct of their eldest son was a source of much unhappiness to the
royal couple. The queen did not lose confidence in him, though she was
deeply distressed.
[A. D. 1784.] A year after he went to live at Carlton House his royal
sire offered to pay his debts, if the accounts were sent to him. They
were sent, but, after being kept for months, they were returned, because
they {174}were found to be incorrect,--twenty-five thousand pounds being
entered without any explanation as to whom that sum was due. The prince
declared it to be a secret of honor, which he would not reveal, and
the king, in his turn, declared that he would pay no debt the nature of
which his son was ashamed to acknowledge; and there the matter rested.
[[A.D. 1785.]] But the following year the prince's debts had increased
to such an outrageous amount that he could see no way out of his dilemma
excepting in flight. He wanted, as Earl of Chester, to remove to some
German court, and there live in retirement, declaring that the king
hated him, and would not allow parliament to assist him. The great
trouble was, that no confidence existed between George III. and his
eldest son, and neither treated the other with fairness. The ministry
offered the prince a hundred thousand pounds, provided half the sum
might be retained for the payment of his debts; but he pronounced the
offer useless, saying that he knew the king would not listen to it, and
if Pitt, the minister, were to propose such a measure he would be turned
out of office. It was proposed to him to try to conciliate his royal
father by ceasing to adhere to a political party in opposition to the
government; but he refused to abandon Fox or any of his friends. Then it
was proposed that he should marry; and, as he was very much in love with
Mrs. Fitzherbert, a lady who had been divorced from a bad husband, he
resolved to do so. But this marriage could not be legal for two reasons:
first, because Mrs. Fitzherbert was a Catholic; and second, because no
prince of the blood was permitted to marry without the king's consent
before he had attained the age of twenty-five. So George, Prince of
Wales, kept his marriage secret, and even had it denied in parliament,
much to his wife's indignation. When the queen heard of
{175}
[Illustration: 0181]
{177}it she commanded the presence of her son, and, on being assured
that he was really married, and to a woman worthy of respect, she
consented to receive her. Not only did Queen Charlotte show marked
courtesy to Mrs. Fitzherbert, but she did a service for her son in using
her influence to have all his debts paid off. Then Carlton House,
which had been dull and silent, became once more the scene of gay and
brilliant entertainments.
We must now return to the royal couple, and see them pleasantly
established at Windsor, though with the king's health far from
satisfactory. It was at this period that a remarkable lady entered the
queen's service; and, as she was well-known in the literary world, she
must be properly introduced. This was Frances Burney, the daughter of
a musician of much talent. She was only a little child when her mother
died; and, as her father seemed to think that his whole duty consisted
in fondling his children and treating them with the kindness and
affection his sweet temper prompted, Frances educated herself. Dr.
Burney (he had the degree of Doctor of Music from the University of
Oxford) really had little time for anything but the lessons he gave, for
they sometimes kept him busy from seven in the morning until eleven at
night, and he often carried a tin-box of sandwiches, with a bottle of
wine and water, for his luncheon, which he would eat in a hack while
hurrying from one pupil to another. Two of his daughters were sent to a
school in Paris, and one of them taught her little sister, Frances,
to write; and before she was fourteen she began to find pleasure in
reading. Dr. Burney had a large library, but it contained no novels, and
so his daughter's taste was not spoiled by light reading.
The social position of the Burney family was peculiar; for, while the
children played with those of the tradespeople in the neighborhood, they
had opportunities of {178}seeing some very distinguished people, who
were proud to know the doctor. Samuel Johnson was his most intimate
friend, and they spent many a long winter evening together. David
Garrick often amused the Burney girls with his powers of mimicry, and
there were so many other artists and men of letters whom Frances had
an opportunity of seeing that it would be tedious to mention all their
names.
The very finest musicians of the day visited Dr. Burney, and esteemed
him so highly that occasionally he would gather them at his modest
little house, and give such a splendid concert that many members of the
nobility considered it a privilege to get an invitation. At this time
Frances was a shy, awkward girl, who trembled if any of the guests spoke
to her. Therefore she was permitted to remain in the background, and,
while thus unobserved, she watched people, observed their peculiarities,
and analyzed their characters. She had a vivid imagination too, and laid
up a store of material for fiction that was of great use to her later.
Frances soon began to write little stories that amused her sisters
very much, but were not shown to her father, who knew nothing of their
existence. Dr. Burney had an intimate friend named Samuel Crisp, a
well-educated, literary man, whose advice was of the utmost benefit to
Frances, whom he always called his Fannikin, while she in return called
him her dear Daddy. Crisp enjoyed Dr. Burney's concerts; but, when he
grew old and gouty, and could no longer attend them, Frances would write
him a long account of each one, and of the gay people who attended.
These letters were answered, and contained so much instruction
about what to read and how to write, that they went far towards the
development of "Fannikin's" intellect. {179}The result was that Frances
Burney wrote a novel which took the literary world by surprise. Her
father wept over it for joy. "Daddy" Crisp shook his fist at Fannikin in
affectionate anger for not having confided in him, and everybody began
to guess what author could have written "Evelina." When they found out
that a reserved, inexperienced young woman had produced the best work of
fiction that had appeared in many a day, praises were increased. Frances
Burney suddenly found herself famous. Then she wrote another novel,
which she called "Cecilia." The publishers paid her two thousand pounds
for it, and there never was a book more eagerly snatched from the
counters of the booksellers. Frances Burney was now thirty years old;
she had literary fame, position and money. What, then, could have
induced her to take the steps to which we have alluded,--that of
entering the queen's service? It is certainly inexplicable; but this is
how it happened:--
Mrs. Delany, a lady of noble birth, having been left a widow, was kindly
cared for by King George and Queen Charlotte, who fitted up a house
for her in Windsor Park, and settled on her an annuity of three hundred
pounds a year. Their majesties frequently visited the old lady, and the
young princes and princesses often honored her by their company to tea.
Miss Burney was visiting at Mrs. Delany's house, when, one day after
dinner, as the old lady was taking her nap, a stout gentleman entered,
unannounced. "What? what? what?" he asked, looking about, as the
visitors who had been playing a game scampered out of the room, and a
cry of "The King!" was set up. Mrs. Delany came forward to receive her
royal guest, and introduced Miss Burney, who was questioned as to
what she had written and what she was going to write. The queen soon
appeared, and {180}his majesty repeated to her all that the young
authoress had said. Miss Burney was charmed with the royal pair, and
felt quite at her ease when their visit was repeated a few days later.
On that occasion the king expressed his opinion about many English and
foreign writers. Voltaire he pronounced a monster, Rousseau he liked
better. "But was there ever such stuff as a great part of Shakespeare?"
he cried, "only one must not say so. But what think you? What? Is there
not sad stuff? What? what?"
Well, one of the keepers of the queen's robes retired about this time,
and the position was offered to Miss Burney. She consented, with the
advice of her father, to give up writing, to leave a happy home and
pleasant associates, to become the companion of an old German woman who
was the chief-keeper of the robes and waiting-maid to her majesty. We
wonder how Dr. Burney could have consented to allow his daughter to
enter upon the five years of drudgery to which she bound herself; but
he, poor deluded man, seemed to think that going to court was like going
to heaven, and so he actually persuaded her to it; and, after escorting
her to her dreary prison, for so it was, went home rejoicing at her
marvellous prosperity. It is to the diary that Miss Burney kept while
she was waiting-maid to her majesty that we are indebted for an account
of the domestic life at court.
She felt very timid the first day she entered upon her office, but Queen
Charlotte was exceedingly gracious, and soon placed the new maid at her
ease by treating her less like a servant than a friend. Nevertheless,
she was glad to escape from the royal presence to dine with the ladies
and gentlemen-in-waiting. The meals served for these court attendants
were much more enjoyable than those at which their majesties presided,
because there was less formality and ceremony. The queen was no longer
served {181}by gentlemen who kneeled while offering a dish, but they
were never permitted to sit in her presence; no matter how high their
rank, and it is easy to understand how uncomfortable they must have felt
when forced to eat standing. No wonder the lords, bishops, and officers
preferred to dine with the maids-of-honor and ladies-in-waiting, with
whom they could enjoy themselves, and at whose sides they might sit
while partaking of their meal.
Miss Burney found the dressing of the queen a very formidable matter at
first, because the ringing of the bell that summoned her always put her
in a flurry at the start. No maid was permitted to remain in the room
while the queen was dressing, but they assembled in the ante-chamber,
where one handed to the other the various articles as they were
required. "'T is fortunate for me," says Miss Burney, "that I have
not the handing of them. I should never know which to take first,
embarrassed as I am, and should run a prodigious risk of giving the gown
before the hoop, and the fan before the neckerchief."
The actual toilet for the day was performed at one o'clock, and
concluded with the powdering of the hair, a very important matter,
always performed by a regular hairdresser. On his arrival her majesty
was covered by a large _peignoir_, and then left alone with the
_artist_, who flung the powder at the royal head causing a light spray
to fall gently on every part of the hair,--standing off to view
the effect, applying the puff here and there, and so continuing the
operation until the desired effect was produced.
One of Miss Burney's duties consisted in preparing her majesty's
snuff-boxes, and dampening the contents to suit the royal nose; for
Queen Charlotte was a connoisseur of the article, and took it as
regularly as did all the gentlemen and most of the ladies of that
period. "On court days," says Miss Burney in her diary, "the queen
dresses {182}her head at Kew, and puts on her drawing-room apparel at
St. James's. I dress all at Kew except my tippet and long ruffles, which
I carry in paper to save from dusty roads." The most rigid etiquette was
observed when the royal family were at Windsor. Nobody ever knocked at a
door for fear of shocking the royal nerves; a shake of the knob was
the only signal allowed to a person desiring to enter. When a birthday
occurred, the family walked on the terrace, crowded with people of
distinction, who gathered to show respect. One of these scenes is thus
described:--
"It was really a mighty pretty procession. The little Princess Amelia,
just three years old, in a colored robe, covered with fine muslin, a
dressed close cap, white gloves and a fan, walked on alone, turning from
side to side to see everybody as she passed, for all the people on the
terrace stand up against the walls, to make a clear passage for the
royal family, as soon as they come in sight. Then followed the king
and queen, no less delighted themselves with the joy of their little
darling." Little Amelia was a great pet with her parents, and when she
observed Miss Burney among the guests, and actually stopped to kiss her,
the breach of etiquette was merely smiled at, though the queen was
not pleased; for she only addressed a word to those whom she desired
especially to distinguish. So rigid was the court etiquette that no
person ever passed a room occupied by the royal family if the door
chanced to be open, and the children never spoke in the presence of
their parents unless called upon to answer an observation directed to
them.
[[A.D. 1786.]] But everything was different at Kew, where the absence of
restraint formed a striking contrast to the life at Windsor. There the
king was called "Farmer George," and there were some odd sketches made
by the caricaturists of the day, representing his
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[Illustration: 0189]
{185}majesty with his wife on his arm, trudging along in true rustic
fashion. Some very amusing anecdotes are given of "Farmer George's"
visits to the cottages of his neighbors, which were made with the least
possible ceremony, and often at most inconvenient periods.
He rode for hours every day, and would poke his nose wherever the fancy
happened to take him. Once he was caught in a shower and took shelter in
a cottage, where he found a girl roasting a goose. He requested her to
go and put his horse under an adjacent shed, which she agreed to do if
he would keep the goose from burning during her absence. Presently the
girl's father entered, and, though surprised at seeing the occupation of
his sovereign, had the good sense not to recognize him. George began to
talk to the man about the disadvantage of roasting with a string, and
explained how much easier and safer it was to cook with a spit, which
required less watching and only occasional basting. At the conclusion of
his lecture, he secretly wrote upon a piece of paper "to buy a jack,"
and enclosed five guineas, which he placed upon the table before his
departure.
One day his majesty met a young rustic on the road not far from Windsor
Castle. "Who are you, boy?" he asked, attracted by something in his
appearance. "Who are you, eh, eh?"
"I be a pig-boy."
"Where did you come from? Who do you work for here, eh?"
"I be from the low country; out of work at present."
"Don't they want lads here; not want lads, eh?"
"I doan't know; all about here belongs to Georgy."
"Georgy! Who's Georgy?"
"He lives at the castle, yonder: but he does no good for I." The king
immediately gave the lad employment on his farm, and told him if he were
a steady lad, "Georgy" might be a friend to him.
He thus addressed a stable-boy one morning: "Well, {186}boy! What do you
do? What do they pay you?"
"I help in the stable, but they only give me victuals and clothes," said
the lad. "Be content; I have no more," was the king's reply.
He could be generous, though, on occasion; for two boys who did not know
him fell on their knees one day, and asked relief, saying that their
mother had been dead three days, and their father was too ill to rise
from his bed of straw. The king went with them to their miserable hovel,
and, finding that they had not exaggerated their distress, gave them
a liberal sum of money, and then went to the castle, whence he sent a
plentiful supply of food and clothing. He did more. When the sick father
recovered, the boys were educated and provided for at his majesty's
expense.
Visiting the stable one morning, King George found the grooms disputing
so loudly that his arrival was not noticed.
"I don't care what you say, Robert," said one, in a very loud tone, "but
everybody else agrees that the man at the Three Tuns makes the best purl
in Windsor."
"Purl! purl!" exclaimed the king. "What's purl, Robert?" The manner of
making the beverage was explained to him, and he said, "Very good drink,
no doubt; but too strong for breakfast." Five years later, George, who
had such a good memory that he knew the names, numbers, and uniform
of every regiment in the service, entered the stables, shortly after
daylight, one morning, and asked a boy to whom he was unknown, where all
the men were. "I don't know, sir, replied the lad; "but they will soon
be here, for they expect the king."
"Ah! oh! Then run, boy, to the Three Tuns and say that the king expects
_them_;--to the Three Tuns, boy, d' ye hear? They are sure to be there,
for the landlord makes the best purl in Windsor."
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