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CHAPTER III.
In spite of Sir Robert Walpole's persuasions to the contrary, the king went back to Hanover a week after his son's marriage. Previous to his departure from England he appointed Queen Caroline regent, much to the dissatisfaction of the Prince of Wales; but he went further, for he sent word to the prince that wherever the queen resided there would always be apartments for himself and the princess. In other words, Frederick was to be treated as a sort of a prisoner without the privilege of a separate court of his own. This was most humiliating, and a condition of affairs that naturally led to disobedience and deceit; for when Queen Caroline removed from one residence to another her son would pretend to be making preparations to follow, and then contrive some excuse for not doing so. Once he pleaded illness of the princess, although she was perfectly well, then the queen feigned anxiety and went to visit the make-believe invalid, who received her in a darkened room, and said she was suffering from measles, although the doctors could not be induced to back her up in her lie. The queen went to live at Kensington, as she always did during her husband's absence, and every time she held a council meeting there Frederick contrived to arrive just as the business was concluded. This he did on purpose to annoy his mother, and to show his displeasure at her being regent, when he thought that position ought to have been assigned to him.
It would have been a great deal better for all the members of the royal family if the king had been more contented to remain in England; but he spent months at a time in Hanover, and was only prevented at last from indulging in this amusement by the breaking out of the seven years' war. Everybody expressed his opinion very freely on the subject of King George's love for Germany, and made that the ostensible reason for complaint, no matter what it was really. One day a poor, lean, lame, blind, old horse was turned loose into the streets with a shabby, broken saddle on his back, and a paper fastened to his head, on which was this inscription: "Let nobody stop me: I am the King's Hanover Equipage going to fetch his Majesty to England."
At the Royal Exchange a placard was posted up with this notice: "It is reported that his Hanover Majesty designs to visit his British dominions for three months in the Spring." On the gate of St. James's Palace appeared this advertisement: "Lost or strayed out of this house, a man who has left a wife and six children on the parish; whoever will give any tidings of him to the church wardens of St. James's Parish, so as he maybe got again, shall receive four shillings and sixpence reward.
"N.B. This reward will not be increased, nobody judging him to deserve a crown." There were many more such notices; but we have quoted enough to give an idea of what complaining there was because King George loved Germany, and did not take the pains to conceal it.
During the king's absence Queen Caroline governed, with Walpole for adviser and assistant; but every measure they decided upon was submitted to the Cabinet Council, who were required to sanction and sign each document before it was carried into effect. This was wise management, because the responsibility was thus shared by a number of people, though Walpole acted quite independently. In 1736 the queen had a great deal of trouble as regent, for there were corn-riots in the West, labor-riots in London, because there were so many Irishmen there who were willing to work at cheaper rates than the English, and smugglers on the coasts who were in league with the peasantry. This class of people gave special uneasiness, because whenever they were opposed they cursed the queen, as well as "the foreign prince," as they called the king, and cheered for James III. The disturbance became so great that the guard around Kensington Palace had to be doubled, the person of the queen not being considered safe. A large part of the trouble was due to intoxication, which increased depravity among the lower orders to an alarming degree.
So a bill was introduced before parliament to prohibit the sale of gin. It did little good, however; for the horrid stuff was sold under such names as Sangree, Tom Row, Cuckold's Comfort, Parliament Gin, Make Shift, The Last Shift, Ladies' Delight, King Theodore, Cholic and Gripe Waters. Gin-shops disappeared and gave place to chemists, who had whole rows of bottles labelled, "Take two or three spoonfuls of this four or five times a day, or as often as the fit takes you." When these people were arrested and brought before the courts, they said that apothecary-shops were more in demand than ever before, because the "late act of parliament had caused people to suffer so much from cholic that they had constantly to buy medicine." There were those who informed against others for selling gin, either privately or under a false name, merely for the gratification of some spite, or from a feeling of envy; but when they fell into the hands of the mob they paid dearly for it, for they were beaten, rolled in the dirt, held under a pump, or ducked in the horse-pond or in the Thames. There were disturbances in Scotland, too, the most formidable of which was known as the Porteous riot, because a captain of that name was one of the principal victims of it. Sir Walter Scott has given an excellent and most interesting account of this riot in one of the most popular of his novels. He says that Captain John Porteous was the son of a citizen of Edinburgh, who did all in his power to bring him up to an honest trade; but the boy was so wild and dissipated that at last he was sent to join the army in Holland, with the hope that the discipline would improve his morals. Some years later he returned to his native city, where he was employed by the magistrates to drill the City Guard, because he was supposed to possess military skill. It was not long before he was made captain, and his very name became a terror to all disturbers of the public peace, because he was so harsh and severe. He commanded a corps of a hundred and twenty soldiers, whose duty it was to preserve order, and prevent street robberies and mobs; yet whenever there was a public holiday there was sure to be a skirmish between the City Guard and the rabble of Edinburgh, who really hated them.