A.D. 1715. There were riots at Bristol and elsewhere on the night of the king's coronation, and political excitement ran high the following spring, when three of Queen Anne's late ministers were accused of high treason. The Duke of Marlborough made a grand triumphal entry into London, attended by thousands of gentlemen on horseback, three days after the queen's death. But his sun had set. Thackeray says of him: "Marlborough, the greatest warrior that ever lived, betrayed William III., James II., Queen Anne, England to France, the Elector to the Pretender, the Pretender to the Elector." He was to be trusted no more, though he was elected to some of his former offices.
Let us see how George got along with his new subjects. He began by liking neither them nor their manners.
[Original]
"This is a strange country," he said. "The first morning after my arrival at St. James's, I looked out of the window and saw a park with walks, a canal, and so forth, which they told me were mine. The next day Lord Chetwynd, the ranger of my park, sent me a fine brace of carp out of my canal, and I was told that I must give five guineas to Lord Chetwynd's servant for bringing me my own carp, out of my own canal, in my own park."
George I. showed uncommon prudence in his management of public affairs. He always seemed to regard himself merely as a lodger at St. James's, who might be turned out at any time, and who was therefore determined to make the best of his brief stay there. He chose to be away from England as much as possible, but when obliged to be there passed all his time with his German followers, and never even took the trouble to learn the language of the country he ruled. His aim was to lead a quiet, peaceable sort of life, and leave England to itself. He made no parade of royalty, was not hypocritical nor lofty, cared nothing for art, and studied economy. He was good-natured, too, as this story, related by Horace Walpole, goes to prove:—On one of King George's journeys to Hanover his coach broke down, and he was obliged to send for assistance to a castle near by, owned by a German nobleman of some note. The possessor begged his majesty to do him the honor of accepting a dinner at his house while the necessary repairs were being made to the coach. While waiting for the dinner to be served the host led the royal guest to his picture gallery, where he had a fine collection of paintings formed in several tours through Italy. Suddenly the king stepped before the full length portrait of a young man in the robes and regalia of a sovereign of Great Britain; he asked whom it represented. The nobleman colored, and replied with an air of embarrassment that it was the Chevalier de St. George, or the Pretender, as he was usually called, whose acquaintance he had made when in Italy, and who had done him the honor of sending him that picture. "Upon my word, it is very like the family!" exclaimed the king and moved on, thus relieving the host from his awkward position.
This anecdote shows that he bore no ill-will to the unfortunate Stuarts, and he was generous in excusing those who evinced attachment for them.
At the first masquerade he attended as king, a lady in domino approached and asked him to drink a glass of wine with her at a side table; he assented, and, filling two glasses, the lady handed him one, saying, "Here's to the Pretender's health."