has its lists of accusations against
him for corruption of the most shameless description. The end of this
veteran statesman's career is well known. The fraudulent contracts which
he gave, the peculation and profusion of the secret service money, his
undue influence at elections, brought around his later life a storm,
from which he retreated into the Upper House, when created Earl of
Orford. It was before this timely retirement from office that he burst
forth in these words: 'I oppose nothing; give in to everything; am said
to do everything; and to answer for everything; and yet, God knows, I
dare not do what I think is right.'

With his public capacity, however, we have not here to do: it is in his
character of a courtier that we view him following the queen and king.
His round, complacent face, with his small glistening eyes, arched
eyebrows, and with a mouth ready to break out aloud into a laugh, are
all subdued into a respectful gravity as he listens to King George
grumbling at the necessity for his return home. No English cook could
dress a dinner; no English cook could select a dessert; no English
coachman could drive; nor English jockey ride; no Englishman--such were
his habitual taunts--knew how to come into a room; no Englishwoman
understood how to dress herself. The men, he said, talked of nothing but
their dull politics, and the women of nothing but their ugly clothes.
Whereas, in Hanover, all these things were at perfection: men were
patterns of politeness and gallantry; women, of beauty, wit, and
entertainment. His troops there were the bravest in the world; his
manufacturers the most ingenious; his people the happiest: in Hanover,
in short, plenty reigned, riches flowed, arts flourished, magnificence
abounded, everything was in abundance that could make a prince great, or
a people blessed.

There was one standing behind the queen who listened to these outbreaks
of the king's bilious temper, as he called it, with an apparently
respectful solicitude, but with the deepest disgust in his heart. A
slender, elegant figure, in a court suit, faultlessly and carefully
perfect in that costume, stands behind the queen's chair. It is Lord
Hervey. His lofty forehead, his features, which have a refinement of
character, his well-turned mouth, and full and dimpled chin, form his
claims to that beauty which won the heart of the lovely Mary Lepel;
whilst the somewhat thoughtful and pensive expression of his
physiognomy,