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! 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.] 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 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. 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 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."