HOADLY IN THE PULPIT.
While uproar reigned in the streets on that anniversary, King George, during a part of the day, was quietly sitting in the Chapel Royal, St. James’s, with a brilliant congregation, some of whom feared God, and a greater number honoured the king. The faces of all were turned to the Rt. Rev. Father in God, Benjamin (Hoadly), Lord Bishop of Bangor. All ears were ready to hear how the preacher would illustrate the occasion,—the anniversary of the Restoration. The text was 126th Psalm, v. 3—‘The Lord hath done great things for us, whereof we are glad!’ Nothing could well be more appropriate. How the king, however, could look the preacher in the face while Hoadly was overwhelming him with flattery is not conceivable. He perhaps smiled when the bishop described loyalty to Charles II., after the Restoration, as a thing falsely so-called. The happiest touch was where Hoadly brought Charles II. and King George together, by Heaven’s decree. Providence, he intimated, had a great design in hand, when the Restoration was permitted, which was only the lesser half of that design. The divine scheme was made complete by the birth of King George on the very day before that 29th of May, 1660, on which the Restoration was accomplished. In George, the great work was to culminate, and it was now concluded. And then, the bishop eulogised the sovereign, who was perhaps incapable of comprehending a tenth part of the words which fell from Hoadly’s lips, as a king resplendent by his virtues! The difference on this point between the two kings being that Charles loved handsome hussies and George fat ones. Hoadly was not only in an ecstacy at the present overwhelming happiness, but he was lost in wonder at the almost excess of felicity which England would experience in the existence of the descendants of such a virtuous king! The very contemplation of that future delight was almost too much for him. He recovered by bewailing the not delightful fact that, beaten as the Jacobites had been, they were already growing daily more audacious!
FLATTERY BY ADDISON.
This audacity was also noticed by Addison, in the ‘Freeholder.’ ‘It is impossible,’ he wrote, ‘to reflect with patience on the Folly and Ingratitude of the Men who labour to disturb the King in the midst of his Royal Cares and to misrepresent his generous Endeavours for the Good of his People.’ Under a Stuart, the English people would be in helpless slavery. Under a king like George, there would be freedom—perhaps with some dissensions, but, ‘a disturbed Liberty,’ it had been well said, ‘is better than a quiet Servitude.’ Subsequently, he praised a healthy despotism, and remarked that under Augustus (the Whig poets called George ‘Augustus’), Rome was happier than when she was in possession of her ancient liberty! What a prince Augustus must be, seeing that when he left Hanover, ‘his whole people were in tears!’ All other monarchs sought his counsel and friendship. No man retired from his presence but with admiration of his wisdom and goodness. Addison professed, therefore, to be unable to account for the fact that his royal client should still suffer under the attacks of malicious tongues and more malicious pens.
ON THE SILVER THAMES.
There seemed nothing but enthusiasm on the part of the people, at all events, of the Whigs, when the Prince and Princess of Wales took the young princesses on the river. The royal barge thus pleasantly freighted, and quite unguarded, was a familiar object between London and Greenwich. The Thames was often the scene of more splendid spectacles than the above. On the 5th of June, the Duke of Newcastle was the giver of one of those gay and gorgeous entertainments. His Grace was early afloat in his new barge, pulled by a dozen rowers, in new liveries. He was soon joined by the Duke of Montague, the Earl of Carnarvon, and other members of ‘the quality,’ in similar state. Last of all came the Prince and Princess in royal barges, scarlet and gold, flags flying, trumpets proclaiming, while cannon and human throats on the shores roared their rough welcome. As the royal barges glided into the space left for them within a half-circle of other brilliant galleys, the Haymarket orchestra, especially engaged, gave to the royal guests a most harmonious welcome. In the simpler record of this aquatic festival we are told that ‘There was a very fine cold Treat consisting of above eighty Dishes, the three principal Barges to be served in Place,’ whatever that may mean. When twilight descended upon the scene, the guests, landing, accompanied the Duke of Newcastle to his house at the north-west corner of Lincoln’s Inn Fields, where a magnificent ball and a sumptuous supper detained them till long after the dawning of another day.
About this time, the Scottish gentleman, in lodgings in Rathbone Place, Simon Fraser, who had had public audience of the king, was received by his Majesty, in private. Fraser of Lovat thus wrote of what passed to Mr. Duncan Forbes:—
TWO PRETTY FELLOWS.
‘I can tell you, that no man ever spoke freer language to his Majesty and the Prince than I did of our two great friends, in letting him know that they did him more service, and were capable to do him more service, than all those of their rank in Scotland, and it is true. I hope what I said will be useful, and let it have what effect it will as to me, I am overjoyed to have occasion to serve the two prettiest fellows in Europe.’ Lovat spoke of King George as ‘one of the best men on earth, but strangely imposed upon by certain persons. I hope it will not be always so,’—While serving the ‘two prettiest fellows in Europe,’ Lovat did not neglect a prettier,—himself. In one of his letters to Forbes, in the Culloden papers, he says, ‘If you suffer Glengarry, Frazerdale, or Chisholm to be pardoned, I will never more carry a musquet under your command.’ Lovat’s motive is betrayed in another letter, in which he says: ‘The king has been graciously pleased to grant me, this very day, a gift of Frazerdale’s Escheat, and M. Stanhope told me I was so well in his Majesty’s spirit, that all my enemies are not able to do me harm.’ The crafty rascal is fully manifested in the following passage: ‘I spoke to the Duke and my Lord Islay about my marriage, and told them that one of my greatest motives to that design was to secure them the joint interest of the North. They are both fully for it, and the Duke is to speak of it and propose it to the King.’
His Majesty, just then, thinking there was something to be grateful for, appointed the 7th of June as a Thanksgiving Day, for the glorious suppression of the late rebellion. Tory parsons tried their best not to be thankful. Sacheverel suddenly found that St. Andrew’s was out of repair, and must be immediately shut up, but his more discreet churchwardens were afraid to support him. They maintained that, in this case, whatever they thought, the congregation at St. Andrew’s must at least look thankful, by duly assembling.