"By Jove! That's a capital idea, Dapper. It will make the Macaronies mad as March hares."
"Please fill your glasses, ladies and gentlemen, and we will drink the health of our most gracious sovereign,"[46] said Mr. Newville.
[Footnote 46: George III. was grandson of George II., and son of Frederick, Prince of Wales, whose death made his son heir to the throne. The mother of George III. had plans of her own, and was aided by the Earl of Bute. There were political parties in church and state; scheming bishops and intriguing politicians, each striving for his own advancement, or the advancement of his party. George III. during his early years had frequent changes of governors and tutors, several of whom were intense Jacobites, holding reactionary opinions. Being dull of intellect, his education tended to make him a bigot.]
The glasses were filled, and the health of the king drunk.
"Our king is a right royal sovereign," said Mr. Newville.
"Yes, royal, but stupid now and then," Mr. Dapper responded, to the amazement of the company, and especially Mrs. Newville. "The fact is, my dear madam, our king, unfortunately, has the reputation of being the dullest sovereign in Europe. Perhaps you know there was not much of him to begin with, as he was only a little pinch of a baby when he was born, so puny and weak the nurses said he wouldn't stay here long. He sat in their laps, and was coddled till six years old, when he was put under that scheming, narrow-minded bigot, Reverend Doctor Ayscough. And what do you suppose the reverend donkey set him to doing? Why, learning hymns, written by another reverend gentleman, Doctor Philip Doddridge. Very good religious hymns, no doubt, but not quite so attractive as Mother Goose would have been to the little fellow. After learning a few hymns and a few words in Latin, he was set to making verses in that language, when he could not read a story book without spelling half the words."
"How preposterous!" exclaimed Miss Milford.
"Somewhat absurd, I will admit," said Mr. Dapper, bowing. "One reverend doctor was not sufficient," he continued, "to look after the education of the prince, and so my Lord Bishop Hayter of Norwich was associated with Doctor Ayscough. Then the Old Harry was let loose. My Lord Bishop of Norwich was scheming to be made Archbishop of Canterbury, and Ayscough wanted to become Bishop of Bristol. Both were striving to rival little Jack Horner in putting their thumbs into the pie."