ESTIMATES OF THE ENGLISH KINGS.

XXXLL—GEORGE

IF it was the fate of George I. to attach to his person few, if any, warm admirers among his English subjects, it was the misfortune of his son and successor—George Augustus—to evoke an amount of personal animosity which renders it diffi- cult in the present day to arrive at a satisfactory conclusion respecting his character. That personal ill-feeling and personal resentment have much to do with most of the estimates of him which are preserved in the memoir-writers of the period is evident, if only from the fact that these accounts are so often self-inconsistent and incapable of being blended into an harmonious whole. Nor is the character of any one of the three chief authorities for the ordinary estimates of George II. such as to induce us to place much reliance on their unsupported statements or the judgments which they chose to pass upon their contemporaries. All three were shrewd men of the world and clever delineators of men and manners, and as such possess a cer- tain value as historical witnesses ; but all three were also men of strong prejudices, and rather lax ideas as to the boundaries of truth and falsehood. Horace Walpole is known to every one as the ideal of a thorough-paced gossip, with whom the goodness of a story is the first and main point, and its truth a very secondary consideration, and who would never scruple for a moment to colour or even invent where his pre- judices prompted, or the completeness of the story seemed to call for the addition. The celebrated Lord Chesterfield, who had been a star in the firmament of Leicester House when George II. was himself Prince of Wales and the centre of an Opposition Court, and who again for a time filled a similar position in the Court of Frederick, the succeeding Prince of Wales, has left us a " Char- acter " of his earlier patron which, on the whole, is more candid than could have been expected, though the animus of the writer peeps forth unmistakably in some of the para- graphs. But Lord Hervey, his contemporary and rival, warns us against placing trust in Chesterfield, whom he describes as utterly unscrupulous in his statements, and constantly sacrificing truth to epigrammatic effect. As to Lord Hervey himself, he has

painted his own character in unmistakable colours in his "Memoirs of the Reign of George II.," and Mr. Thackeray ex- presses in strong terms the horror with which this self-portraiture filled his mind. We cannot be too much on our guard against assuming as correct the characters drawn by men so brilliant and so little fettered by conscientious scruples as these were, and it is better to content ourselves with the more trustworthy hints of a much better man, though leas pointed writer, Earl Waldegrave, and with the tamer deductions from established facts, than to give a false interest to our sketch by adopting these clever but doubtful representations.

The present Lord Stanhope pronounces George II. to have been inferior to his father in intellect, but Lord Chesterfield's remark seems to bring us nearer to the truth :—" He had not better parts than his father, but much stronger animal spirits, which made him produce and communicate himself more." Neither father nor son can justly lay claim to more than a very moderate amount of ability, but the range of George IL's mind was much greater than his father's, and if he judged less soberly and soundly in some respects than the phlegmatic and precise George Louis did within his narrower sphere of thought, he entertained much more readily the possibility of outlying considerations beyond the boundaries of his own personal experience, and took an interest in a much greater number of things in which other people than himself were in- terested. But this very circumstance was disadvantageous to George II. in any public comparison between his ability and that of his father, for the wider the area over which the sympathies of the former extended, and the greater and the more diversified the objects on which his intellectual abilities were exercised, the more apparent became the poorness of those abilities, and the more salient any peculiarities of manner and disposition. The greater reserve of George I. also (however unpleasing and unpopular in itself) had not been without its effect in preventing the extent of his intellectual incapacity from being gauged. A silent man has always great advantages in this respect over a man of familiar and more communicative temperament. Not only does he not expose himself, but he is credited with a positive amount of wisdom to which he is really quite unentitled. But in George II. the nature of his father had been materially modified by the irritable and impulsive temperament of his mother. He resembled his father, indeed, in his excellent business habits, his methodical arrangement of his time, and in that subservience to the force of habit which made Lord Hervey say of him that "ho seemed to think his having done a thing to-day an unanswerable reason for his doing it to-morrow." Like his father, he was thoroughly right-minded in his intentions with respect to both the public and individuals. Lord Chesterfield admits that "his first natural movements were always on the side of justice and truth," though he avers "they were often warped by ministerial influence or the secret twitches of avarice." The former of these limitations, of course, simply means that he sometimes fol- lowed the counsels of his constitutional advisers instead of those of Lord Chesterfield. This writer adds that George "was generally reckoned ill-natured, which indeed he was not. He had rather an unfeeling than a bad heart ; but I never observed any settled malevolence in him, though his sudden passions, which were frequent, made him say things which in cooler moments he would not have executed. His heart always seemed to me to be in a state of perfect neutrality between hardness and tenderness." There was equal courage in both the Georges, equal presence of mind in the face of great dangers, and a similar natural steadiness and pertinacity of purpose. But there were also marked differences between father and son. The mind of George I. was habitually at rest, and his passions usually completely under his control ; the mind of George II. was always restless in a greater or less degree, and his passions at the mercy of every passing occurrence, how- ever trivial. Though he thought much more about great things than his father, he was much more disturbed about little matters. This, Lord Chesterfield asserts, he was told by the King himself, and he confirms it by his own observation. "I have often," he says, "seen him put so much out of humour at his private levee by a mistake or blunder of a valet de chambre, that the gaping crowd admitted to his public levee have, from his looks and silence, concluded that he had just received some dreadful news."

His avarice, which is often spoken of by contemporaries, seems to have been due to the same cause. He was natu- rally economical, and he felt with disproportionate keenness all the smaller demands on his pocket, and especially resented any unusual or extraordinary appeals to his bounty. He had no idea of any additional claim upon his generosity, on the ground of his regal position. He acted in the spirit of a trustee whose accounts

bad to be audited in Chancery. Yet his love of saving never stood in the way of what be himself believed to be a duty to himself or the country, and to secure the success of what he considered a true and necessary public policy he was even reckless in his expendi- ture. Under this very parsimonious sovereign the National Debt was considerably more than doubled, and the annual Parlia- mentary grant rose from three and a half millions to nineteen. And this was nearly all public expenditure. The King's -private expenditure was regulated by strict economy, and his mode of living simple and frugal in the extreme. There was much plundering, no doubt, by ministers and courtiers, and a con- siderable sum spent in governing by corruption, but the great increase arose from the natural ambition and enterprise of the King in his foreign policy. He was, no doubt, to some extent influenced in this policy by his interest in the fortunes and posi- tion of Hanover, his love for which principality was scarcely, if at all, inferior to that of his father. But his favourite schemes em- braced far wider considerations, and tended to much more serious entanglement in the general affairs of the Continent than were -demanded by his interests as Elector of Hanover alone. He was always too much in earnest and too eager about everything which be undertook, to confine himself within any such limits. It tasked all the sagacity and adroitness of Robert Walpole to impose his let-alone, spend-at-home policy on the eager spirit of his Royal master; the more warlike and enterprising spirit of Carteret -always carried with it the King's avowed or secret sympathies, and notwithstanding a great divergence in their estimate of the import- ance of Hanoverian interests, the daring policy of the elder Pitt was much more in unison with the King's own bent of mind than the cautious, unenterprising counsels of his earlier Minister. This enterprise, far more physical than intellectual in its character and -operation, made the courage also of George II. different in kind from that of his father. That of George I., though undoubted and never-failing, was as unobtrusive as it was unheroic in its mode of manifestation. But George IL, whose daring impetuosity on the battle-field and energetic resolution on the approach of 'danger might have seemed more akin to the heroic mould, lost even the credit which he was entitled to on this account by his uncon- cealed self-satisfaction at his heroic qualities, and his naive appeals to all the world for acknowledgment and admiration of the same. His self-satisfaction was so genuine and really to some extent so well founded, that it is rescued from the imputation of being mere bombast; but it derogated sadly from the dignity of the king and the man, and even induced some persons to entertain most unjust doubts as to the reality of his courage itself. He was fond of talking of his own acts of valour, and when in one of these fits of self-admiration, his gait assumed a corresponding character, and he strutted in the most approved stage fashion. The malicious wits of the day were not slow in seizing on this piece of Royal absurdity, to which the insignificant person and features of the King gave addi- tional piquancy, and "little George" was sorely handled by them for this unheroic weakness.

But in reality this excessive self-laudation and ostentatious boast- ing were the index much less of absolute self-esteem than of habitual self-distrust. With all his impulsive eagerness to throw himself into situations which demanded the possession of much higher intellec- tual qualities than his, there was an unavowed but recurring sense of his own inferiority, which made him all the more anxious to assert himself on points on which he had some claims to public admira- tion, and all the more delighted with himself that he had such claims. Lord Chesterfield saw this clearly enough, observing that -" he was thought to have a great opinion of his own abilities, but, -on the contrary, I am very sure that he had a great distrust of them in matters of State." But although he had the weakness to endeavour to conceal the extent to which he actually relied on the opinion and was governed by the advice of his wife and her adviser, -Robert Walpole, he bad the good sense generally to follow that advice, and to cherish no ill-feeling either towards wife or minister or being so much wiser than himself. Though he had not ability -enough to inaugurate and conduct a policy himself, he was clear- headed enough to appreciate it and adopt it when recommended by others, if he could only be induced to forego his own impulses, and really listen to expostulation. Lord Waldegrave testifies that, "within the compass of my own observation, 1 have known Lew persons of high rank who could bear contradiction better, provided the intention was apparently good, and the manner decent." But he resented in the most passionate manner any overt attempt to dictate to him and to ignore or lower his dignity and intellectual status in the eyes of the public. His wife, who had greater power over him than any human being, was com- pelled, we are told, though he was quite conscious of its exist- - ence and effects, to avoid every direct and open exercise of it, even in her most private communications with him, and to prevail by gradually insinuating into his mind the counsels which she wished him to follow. This anxiety to conceal from himself as well as from others the extent to which he really was subject to her influ- ence led to the assumption towards her sometimes in public-- when he was in a bad huomur or dissatisfied with his own conduct —of an arrogant and contemptuous manner, which did not in the smallest degree represent his real estimate of her, or any real want of feeling towards her. Lord Hervey divined justly that his roughness of bearing towards particular individuals was by no means an index of a corresponding feeling of dislike, but often arose merely from a transient fit of ill-humour. And like many extremely sensitive persons, he was very careless and inconsiderate of the feelings of others, particularly of his wife's, for whom he had the greatest affection. This is what Lord Hervey calls his "un- feeling heart" and his "neutrality between hardness and tender- ness." But George really had strong and warm feelings, and was as constant in his friendships as he was vehement and tenacious in his antipathies. Lord Waldegrave tells us that "to those servants who attend his person, and do not disturb him with frequent solicitations, he is ever gracious and affable."

But a point on which his character differed most decidedly from that of his father was his sentimentality. This was not " senti- ment " in the English sense of the word, for George II. was prosaic and matter-of-fact enough in the ordinary affairs of life to rob him of all pretensions to that quality in English eyes. He thought poetry and romances very sad rubbish and a thorough waste of time, and he had not the faintest eye for the fine arts. History was his favourite reading, and his preference for one painting over another was based entirely on his greater familiarity with it as a piece of household furniture. Yet he was sentimental, notwithstanding, and romantic after a German fashion. He was a great letter-writer, and whether to his mistresses or his wife he poured forth on paper a minute chronicle of all his doings, thoughts, fears, hopes, and feel- ings generally, with all the unreserve of a school-girl correspon- dent. Then, when not engaged in actual business or in reviewing his darling soldiers, he lounged away his time in the rooms of his wife, or strolled about in the moonlight with his mistress, talking and talking about himself and his feelings in much the same maun- dering and wearisome fashion. Such sentimentality was there in his amours, that it was considered very doubtful by his con- temporaries, and is still undecided, whether his relation with the Countess of Suffolk at any rate, went beyond this dreary senti- mental flirtation. Even with his other and later mistress, Madame de Walmoden, whom he created Countess of Yarmouth after the Queen's death, and by whom he is understood to have had a son, this somewhat sickly sentimental intercourse was evidently the main charm. It is doubtful whether George ever really felt any strong affection for anyone but his wife. But he liked female society, and found in women the most congenial confidants. In his choice of these favourites, too, he displayed much better taste than his father. And although George's monotony of habits made him, particularly as he grew older, a somewhat tiresome com- panion, he was naturally by no means dull or lifeless, but gene- rally cheerful, and even gay. "In the drawing-room," says Lord Waldegrave, "he is gracious and polite to the ladies, and remarkably cheerful and familiar with those who are handsome, or with the few of his old acquaintance who were beauties in his younger days. His conversation is very proper for a tete-a-tete. He then talks freely on most subjects, and very much to the purpose ; but he cannot discourse with the same ease, nor has he the faculty of laying aside the King in larger company, not even in those parties of pleasure which are composed of his most intimate acquaintance." Before his accession to the throne,

his Court at Leicester House was emphatically what is ex- pressed in the word "jolly." The leading wits and beauties of the day were there daily assembled to cap epigrams, and laugh at one another, and enjoy themselves very thoroughly after the fashion of that day. And in this circle the great attraction for George himself was gay, saucy, witty Mary Bellenden, with whom besought to establish the ambiguous relation to which we have just referred, and who, notwithstanding her refusal of his suit, alienated his affection only by a clandestine marriage. The Countess of Suffolk, though with no pretensions to beauty, was a pleasing, amiable woman, of no ability, but much good sense, who seems to have captivated all about her by her sweet, gentle manners. She, how-

ever, seems to have latterly lent herself to political intriguers, and to have annoyed the King by opposing him constantly on his

fixed opinions, and the sentimental character of their inter- course thus ceasing, George soon became heartily tired of her. Madame de Walmoden was a handsome, brilliant German countess. It was characteristic of George II. that, though he conferred rank or bestowed money upon his mistresses, he never allowed them to have any real political influence, and resented their interference in State affairs. These he talked over with his wife alone, requiring, to know everything and to have a good reason for everything, —full of objections and prejudies and vehement resolutions, but in the end almost always following her advice. A woman who could so manage such a jealous, irritable, and emotional character as to secure his entire confidence, and establish firmly by his side so sagacious an adviser as Robert Walpole, must have possessed considerable abilities, though she cannot pretend to the highest intellectual rank. She had a clear head, great tact, and insight into character, perfect self-knowledge, and perfect self-command. What her in- most feeling towards her husband may have been it is difficult to divine, but the deepest affection could not have produced more

complete self-devotion to his interests and his person. He was always her primary consideration. She watched over him with unsleeping and unwearying solicitude, and she watched over the interests and prosperity of England because his interests and happi- ness were therein involved. And with all his occasional neglect and roughness towards her, George fully appreciated her unselfish devotion. Nowhere in history is there such a tribute by a royal husband to the merits of his wife as that preserved by Lord Hervey from the lips of the King himself. To this devotion Caroline sacrificed the natural delicacy of a woman and a wife. Unable to divert him from his ambiguous pursuit of other women, she made herself his confidant, and even in that strange depart- ment for a wife became his habitual adviser. It is probable that the wit or malignity of the memoir-writers has exaggerated the indecent grotesqueness of this relation between husband and wife, but their concurrent testimony seems to leave no doubt of the fact itself. It must be observed that there was less than the usual conventional immorality in this strange conduct, for it would appear that both George and his wife were free- thinkers on matters of religion—Theists, but nothing more— and we do not know what were the obligations of morality which accompanied this independent theology. The other point on which the character of Queen Caroline falls below the highest standard is her assumption of the role of a learned lady, and a critic on all possible points of art, literature, philosophy, and theology. Her foible was to be thought a sort of female "Admirable Crichton,', and accordingly she turned her dressing-room into a scene of the most bizarre character, in which bishops and wits, royal chaplains and freethinkers, statesmen, men of arts, and men of fashion were mixed up with coiffeurs and waiting-women, and the latest epigram hustled the church-service for the day. In the midst, the Queen listened to elaborate compliments and com- plimentary odes, or chattered glibly—she was a great talker—or sat in judgment on a metaphysical controversy involving the nature of all things and the destinies of mankind. This was a weakness, but it had its advantages in a national point of view. It fostered intellectual tastes and pursuits, and it filled the higher places in the Church with learned and good men, instead of the usual tame recipients of Ministerial patronage.

But devoted to each other and well-meaning as were the royal husband and wife, there was a skeleton in their house, and this was their eldest son, Frederick, whom his mother despised and disliked, yet half-pitied and half-excused, but whom his father loathed as well as despised without a mitigating feeling. The unreserve and intensity of this feeling cannot be defended in such a relation, but it was far from groundless ; even by the con- fession of those who attached themselves to his person, he was as thoroughly worthless as it is possible for a mere fool to be. With a few showy external accomplishments which deceived nobody as to his real intellectual capacity, his was as flimsy a nature as can be conceived. False and treacherous to every one, thoroughly mean and cowardly in his disposition, and an habitual and purposeless liar, he was injurious to himself more than to anyone else, and except as the heir-apparent to the Crown, which he happily did not live to possess, his life was thoroughly insignificant, and his death produced no other effect but dismay to the little coterie who had gathered round him as a centre of cabal, and a sense of relief and deliverance in the rest of the nation.

If Lord Hervey is to be believed, we owe a debt of gratitude to Queen Caroline for modifying and controlling the views of George II. on a point of vital national importance. At his accession, according to this writer, George had the ambition of really reign- ing, of employing only second-rate men as his ministers, and of

keeping thepi in the position of business clerks, while the reins:of government remained in his own hands. With such an irritable, impetuous character as his, a government so personal could scarcely have failed to bring with it grave constitutional differences- with Parliament. But if there is any truth in Lord Hervey's state- ment (and Lord Waldegrave hints at the King's personal prefer- ence for a German autocracy), George (whether under his wife's advice or not) soon learned the impracticability of this project, probably felt his own incapacity for the lofty part as soon as he was called upon to act on his theory, and for the rest of his. life became what the courtier-writers thought slavishly obser- vant of the feelings of the House of Commons, and was- guided (after his wife's death) in his choice of advisers mainly by the influence which statesmen could obtain and retain in that assembly. But, if we remember how small a portion of his reign is covered by the life of Caroline, and during how many years George was left to the guidance of his own judgment in his choice of advisers, we shall probably attribute the excellence of the choice which he generally made to his own good sense, rather than to any theory of Parliamentary government. The sagacity of his wife, confirmed by his own clear practical percep- tions in the first instance, recommended Walpole to his confidence ; habit, and a sense of gratitude for past services, joined to the dying recommendation of the Queen, kept that Minister for a long time in the same position. By that time, George, who was never an uninformed or unintelligent agent in the hands of his. Minister, had learned enough of men and manners, and the- management of both, to be tolerably able to act and choose for himself. He was not by nature a very clever or wise man, but he had fallen into an excellent course of training, and he was an apt and careful pupil. His prejudices, it is true, sometimes, as in the case of Pitt, interfered with and postponed too long what was for- the real interests of England ; but he was never hopelessly deaf to reason, and when be was once convinced of his duty, he- fulfilled it with manful resignation.

On the whole, while it is impossible to look upon George IL as- s, superior man or a great king, and though we must sometimes- smile at his absurdities, we cannot in justice deny to him the- character of an earnest, well-meaning, intelligent man, and of am honest, though not a very dignified sovereign.