criptions), and
Maria of Hesse-Cassel, with their respective lords. This made the Hanover
Court very brilliant. In honour of his high guests, the king gave several
fetes; among others, a magnificent masked ball, in the green theatre at
Herrenhausen--the garden theatre, with linden and box for screen, and grass
for a carpet, where the Platens had danced to George and his father the
late sultan. The stage and a great part of the garden were illuminated
with coloured lamps. Almost the whole Court appeared in white dominos,
"like," says the describer of the scene, "like spirits in the Elysian
fields. At night, supper was served in the gallery with three great
tables, and the king was very merry. After supper dancing was resumed, and
I did not get home till five o'clock by full daylight to Hanover. Some
days afterwards we had in the opera-house at Hanover, a great assembly.
The king appeared in a Turkish dress; his turban was ornamented with a
magnificent agraffe of diamonds; the Lady Yarmouth was dressed as a
sultana; nobody was more beautiful than the Princess of Hesse." So, while
poor Caroline was resting in her coffin, dapper little George, with his
red face and his white eyebrows and goggle-eyes, at sixty years of age, is
dancing a pretty dance with Madame Walmoden, and capering about dressed up
like a Turk! For twenty years more, that little old Bajazet went on in
this Turkish fashion, until the fit came which choked the old man, when he
ordered the side of his coffin to be taken out, as well as that of poor
Caroline's who had preceded him, so that his sinful old bones and ashes
might mingle with those of the faithful creature. O strutting Turkey-cock
of Herrenhausen! O naughty little Mahomet! in what Turkish paradise are
you now, and where be your painted houris? So Countess Yarmouth appeared
as a sultana, and his Majesty in a Turkish dress wore an agraffe of
diamonds, and was very merry, was he? Friends! he was your fathers' king
as well as mine--let us drop a respectful tear over his grave.

He said of his wife that he never knew a woman who was worthy to buckle
her shoe: he would sit alone weeping before her portrait, and when he had
dried his eyes, he would go off to his Walmoden and talk of her. On the
25th day of October, 1760, he being then in the seventy-seventh year of
his age, and the thirty-fourth of his reign, his page went to take him his
royal chocolate, and behold! the most religious and gracious king was