the First or Grenadier Guards were marched into the middle of the aisle, and took their stand on each side of the railed way, through which the general procession was to pass. At 8 o'clock their arms and standards were reversed, and every second man was supplied with a large wax taper lighted. A whole hour now elapsed, which was not marked by any incident except the sound of the solemn firing of the minute-guns. At 9 o'clock, a mournful flourish of trumpets, but faintly heard in the aisle, announced that the procession had begun to move, and every eye was immediately fixed in anxious expectation towards the spot by which it was to enter. In a few minutes the van entered the aisle, consisting of the poor knights, followed by the pages; and then, by slow degrees, the whole body moved forward in the order described in the ceremonial. Among the distinguished persons of Opposition who had come to pay their homage to the memory of their venerable sovereign, were the duke of Bedford, earl Grey, and the earl of Lauderdale. As the procession slowly moved along, we observed the several dukes who had been appointed to bear the pall; namely, the dukes of Wellington, Buccleuch, Newcastle, Dorset, Northumberland, and Athol. The canopy over the coffin was borne by marquisses, among whom we perceived the marquisses of Stafford, Buckingham, and Cholmondeley. Almost immediately before the coffin, a most imposing effect was produced by the array of national banners, carried by different no

blemen. The Union banner was carried by lord Grenville, St.

George's banner by lord Howard of Effingham, the grand Royal banner by lord Hill, the banner of Scotland by lord Clinton, the banner of Ireland by lord Headfort, and the banners of Hanover and Brunswick by two other noblemen. As soon as the coffin appeared round the corner of the aisle, the singers of the different choirs, who were followed by the dean of Windsor, struck up the solemn service of "I know that my Redeemer liveth." This beautiful anthem lasted till the corpse was carried into the chapel, and placed on the tressels. Immediately after the coffin followed the duke of York as chief mourner: his royal highness had the appearance of deep and unaffected sorrow. Next him went the duke of Clarence, the duke of Sussex, the duke of Gloucester, and prince Leopold. As soon as the procession was completely arranged in the chapel, the dean of Windsor, assisted on this occasion by the archbishop of Canterbury, commenced the service. At the conclusion of the service, and previous to the last collect and blessing, the funeral anthem, composed by Handel for Queen Caroline, was sung by the full band. One portion, in which the voices of boys alone were employed, was a masterpiece of harmony.

When this anthem was finished, the dean read the prayer which accompanies the lowering of the body into the grave; and it is impossible to describe the awe of every bosom as the throwing of the dust resounded from the royal coffin: this awe was still. further heightened to those in the chapel, from whose eyes the coffin had slowly and gradually

disappeared, without hands, and as if it had been mysteriously withdrawn by some supernatural power. Sir Isaac Heard then read the titles of his late majesty, but in a voice less firm than usual. This tremulousness was, however, the effect of grief rather than of age. The service being concluded, Mr. Knyvett played a solemn voluntary, and the procession returned nearly in the order in which it came.

Thousands were afterwards admitted into the chapel, to see the coffin and its splendid paraphernalia, as it lay in the tomb. Thus ended the most awful and magnificent ceremony which any British subject now living ever witnessed in this country.

George the Third, in his general esteem for the arts, professed great partiality for good paintings, and felt much gratification at being the founder of the Royal Academy. He was delighted with the magnificence of their apartments at Somerset-house, and did not envy their superior elegance to those of his own usual residences. He heard with great anxiety of any circumstances which disturbed the peace of the academy; particularly in the instance of that real genius but eccentric man, Barry (who painted the great room of the Adelphi Society), when he incurred the displeasure of the academicians by his free censure, in a lecture, of the main design of the buildings of Somerset-house. This affair vexed the king, who had expressed his approbation of the great merits of Barry, but he entertained a high opinion of sir William Chambers, who was his

first architect; yet most critics who have considered the site of Somerset-place will incline towards Barry's ideas. The king used to devote several hours to his annual view of the exhibition, and though he asked the opinions of the attendant artists, yet, in his accustomed rapid manner, was generally pretty free in his own remarks. He always manifested his patriotic feeling at the proofs of rising native talents, exclaiming, "Clever artist!" "Promising young man, this !" &c. Sir Joshua Reynolds was a great favourite with him, and in this he was succeeded by Mr. West, whom he employed oftener. With this eminent artist he allowed his kingly dignity to lose itself in long and familiar chit-chat; but, as in all such cases, he could resume it at once if occasion seemed to require it. He had a strong fancy for portraits. Though he bought a good many pictures, he was ever far enough from expending improvident sums for them. The celebrated Houghton collection, which some expected would find its place in his palaces, was suffered to be shipped off to St. Petersburgh, for the Empress Catherine. He had some pictures by Northcote, Zoffani, Gainsborough, and Romney. There is a whole length of the king in one of the state rooms, habited in his parliament robe, which he thought a good likeness, and generally asked his visitors to look at it. His majesty's taste forsook him at one time, when he removed the divine cartoons of Raphael from the long gallery, constructed for their reception, at Hampton Court, by king William, to Buckingham House. There were no

painted copies of them, but sir James Thornhill's at Bedfordhouse, and which are now in the University gallery, at Oxford. They travelled afterwards to Windsor, but the king at last restored them to their original places. In these removals they sustained no serious injury. Altogether there is a fine royal collection at Windsor, Buckinghamhouse, and Hampton Court; some good portraits at Kensing. ton; there are only the head of an old Venetian Doge, and some other trifles, in the council chamber at St. James's. The king patronized the valuable improvements of Jervis, &c. in the beautiful art of painting glass windows. His majesty liked to look at monuments and read epitaphs, but his taste for sculpture did not appear very particular. Perhaps the king, to speak familiarly, was seldom more at home than in conversing on matters which mixed the mechanical with the scientific. Hence charts and maps, or the constructions and goodness of a time-piece, a telescope, and other optical or mathematical instruments, or of pieces of clever machinery, down even to those of mere convenience, interested him greatly. He was occasionally philosophical. Inventions and discoveries were sure to attract his notice. In relieving his mind from matters of importance or mere routine, by light mechanical occupations, he had the authority and recommendation of Locke. Old folks remember well what talk there was once about the king's having turned in a lathe a set of ivory buttons.

His chief amusement in-doors, it is known, was music, and that

certainly of the highest character for grandeur and sublimity of composition, by which he not only gratified a well-tuned ear, but exalted his devotional feelings; but he had very little relish for the meretricious bravuras of the Italian stage, and less for the fantastic and bewitching movements of its ballets. Had the voluptuous waltz been introduced at his court, the royal frown would assuredly have forbidden its repetition; its German origin could not have saved it. For many years the Opera had not been honoured by the regal presence. Neither the music, nor the show, nor the circled splendors of his nobility, and still less the lateness of the hours, had attraction sufficient to claim his evenings, or interfere with the regularity of his habits. But he loved with all his heart to go and see and enjoy an English play as often as he could make it convenient. Here he was quite at home: an English king, in the midst of his subjects of all ranks and classes, partaking of the common amusement, and sharing in the universal pleasure. But here, while he relaxed his state to exhilarate his spirits, he could not command exemption from the sneers or the sarcasms of some would-be Roman patriot, or some witty disappointed political critic. The king of Great Britain, it was more than insinuated, ordered too frequently the representation of light and frivolous productions, and appeared to enjoy the tricks and fooleries of a pantomime with the glee of a holiday play-goer. Whimsical transformations, and such deceptions as Follet, the clown, swallowing a carrot four

*

or five yards long, shook the sides of majesty itself with hearty laughter. But every body above the lower classes knew that the king could delight in the serious drama, that he was a reader and an admirer of Shakspeare, and that he sent several times for Mrs. Siddons to the Queen's house, to recite tragic passages before the royal family. The truth is, that he went purposely to indulge in that broad open cheerfulness and mirth, English all over, which he could not find in the private chambers or the tapestried saloons of a palace. He went to refresh his spirits, and to excite his merriment. In the same way, he amused himself at the fêtes champetres at Frogmore, with Dutch fairs, and a little company of actors-well enough remembered by Munden and Bannister, and where he particularly noticed Elliston. One advantage resulted from his play-going-he became personally as well known to all his metropolitan subjects as their next-door neighbours.

Though the regular course of the king's domestic living was so plain and unostentatious, he was

* This reminds one of George the Second, who preferred farces, pantomimes, and funny comedies; but then he did not understand English enough to enjoy Shakspeare. That Monarch liked such pieces as The London Cuckolds, &c., and used to laugh heartily at the mishap of an intriguing hair-dresser, in getting in at a lady's window in the morning, when the sweeps pass by, and blacken the gallant's posteriors. When he went to see Richard III., the bustle of which pleased him, he was struck with the prof. fered homage of the Mayor of London, and said, "Dat is goot Lord Mayor!" And when Richard was bellowing out in his distress in Bosworth-field, his Majesty said, "Will not dat goot Lord Mayor come back again to help him?”

not disinclined to that appropri ate show which is befitting British monarch, and which has been always displayed by our princes on particular occasions. He could never be induced to patronize the caprices of gaudy fashion, or the displays of pompous extravagance; but he never forgot that he was to support the character of a king, and he was pleased with the style and parade which justly appertained to his high office. Thus, all that was strictly connected with his regal state, was observed at those reviews, or processions, or public exhibitions which he attended. He was a good antiquary in all that is material in books or prints, concerning the forms and order of our ancient state ceremonials. He regarded not so much the brilliancy, as the fitness of the symbols and attributes of royalty, for the time, place, and object. When he patronized, on so superb a scale, the commemoration of Handel, he, with his wonted propriety of taste, fixed upon Westminster-abbey as the scene for sacred concerts: he was quite indifferent to the coarse and impudent attempts frequently made by the disappointed or the needy dishonourable to censure his conduct, or to burlesque it, by holding up his amiable peculiarities in a ridiculous light. This was shown in the case of Wolcot, a very profligate man, and an im moral writer, whose publications, under the assumed name of Peter

Pindar, for several years, brought base profits to himself and his booksellers; though almost with the avowed object of exposing the domestic transactions of the This royal family to derision. mercenary adventurer of the pen,

who had been a physician, and afterwards somewhat of a painter, had a ready talent of rhyming, and a share of light ingenuity and point in putting together all sorts of offensive ribaldry. But Peter Pindar's works have long lost all interest, except what may arise from curiosity to see how far impertinence was tolerated. They produced no effect on the temper of a king, who was not daunted by the knife of Margaret Nicholson or the pistol of Hadfield. He sometimes read and laughed at them, not listening to recommendations of prosecutions. No mo. narch was ever insulted by more coarse and scandalous caricatures, exhibited even in shop-windows within sight of his palace; but prints and pasquinades were alike treated with indifference. A pretty bold caricature was once shown to his majesty, in which Warren Hastings was represented wheeling the king and the chancellor in a wheelbarrow for sale, and crying, "What a man buys, he may sell." The inference intended was, that his majesty and lord Thurlow used improper influence in Hastings's favour. The king smiled at it, and observed, "Well, this is something new. I have been in all sorts of carriages, but was never put into a wheelbarrow before."*

. Difference in politics did not govern the king's conduct when he saw among those who opposed his measures a patriotic disposi tion in a trying emergency. Thus the part so manfully and elo

* The Duke of Cumberland, the King's uncle, though a jolly fellow, was not so good-natured. He could scarcely forgive Lord Townshend, for sketching with his cane on the snow an outline of his Royal Highness's huge frame.

quently taken by the late Mr. Sheridan during the naval mutiny drew from his majesty his repeated approbation in public and in private circles.

ANECDOTES." The king was one day passing in his carriage through a place near one of the royal palaces, when the rabble were gathered together to interrupt the worship of the dissenters; his majesty stopped to know the cause of the hubbub, and being answered it was only some affair between the town's people and the Methodists, he replied, loud enough to be heard by many, The Methodists are a quiet good kind of people, and will disturb nobody; and if I can learn that any persons in my employ disturb them, they shall be immediately dismissed.' The king's most gracious speech was speedily recapitulated through the whole town; and persecution has not dared to lift its hand there since that period."-Cobbin's French Preacher, 8vo.

129.

Upon an occasion when his late majesty was at his stables (it being almost his constant practice to walk from the Castle, and mount his horse at the Mews, to ride to his farms) he entered into conversation in the most familiar manner with a Mr. Smith, who was superintending the rebuilding. of his house, which had been destroyed by fire. His majesty observed, that it would be a great improvement, if the external wall was carried out a few feet further; and upon Mr. Smith replying that it was his majesty's private property and of course he could not have presumed to have solicited such a favour, the king turned round, and said quickly,