dants, including his faithful valet Mustapha. His remains were deposited in the palace vaults, whence they were after a time taken to those at Hanover, and interred there on the night of 30 Aug. (Malortie, i. 137-51; cf. Coxe's account, ii. 255-7, derived from the personal inquiries of Wraxall). George I's will, which was rumoured to contain a legacy of 40,000l. to the Duchess of Kendal, and a large legacy to his daughter, the queen of Prussia, was destroyed by George II, and its duplicate likewise. According to Horace Walpole (Reminiscences, pp. cxxi-ii, where see Wright's note), Lady Suffolk told him, by way of plausible excuse for George II, that George I had burnt two wills made in favour of his son. 'They were probably the wills of the Duke and Duchess of Zell (i.e. Celle), or one of them might have been that of his mother, the Princess Sophia.' According to the same authority (ib. p. cx) George I's daughter-in- law, Queen Caroline, found in his cabinet at his death a proposal from the Earl of Berkeley, first lord of the admiralty, to seize the Prince of Wales and convey him to America, 'whence he should never be heard of more.'
The sudden death of George I, who had started on his journey in his usual vigorous health (he had had a threatening of apoplexy at Charlottenburg in 1723), and was only in his sixty-eighth year, took the world by surprise. Some unkindly legends were invented in connection with his decease; but probably few unselfish tears were shed, and none in his own family. Between his son and him all was hatred; his genial daughter-in-law he called 'cette diablesse' (ib. p. ciii); the only one of his own blood for whom he had much tenderness seems to have been his sister Queen Sophia Charlotte (Lady Cowper, Diary, p. 149). To his English subjects he had always remained a stranger. He never troubled himself to learn their language, though already as a boy he had acquired a certain facility in speaking Latin, French, and Italian. English literature found in him no patron, and occupied itself but little with his name. The expression of elation attributed to him that Newton was his subject in one country and Leibniz in the other is not much in his style, especially as he was rather illiberal to the latter at Hanover, and denied him his heart's desire, a summons to London (Correspondance de l' Electrice Sophie, iii. 325- 328; cf. Vehse, i. 234-5; Kemble, p. 533). Early in the last year of his life he received Voltaire 'very graciously' (Doran, ii. 22). He was fond of music; but the diversions especially affected by him were stag-hunting at the Göhrde, a hunting seat rebuilt in 1706 and frequently visited by him (Malortie, ii. 148-52, 187, 188), and shooting (in Richmond Park), late suppers (Jesse, ii. 315-16) and masquerades, which Bishop Gibson offended him by denouncing (Lady Cowper, p. 81 n.) Like his mother he was fond of walking exercise, and indulged in it both in the gardens of his favourite Herrenhausen, and in those of Kensington Palace, which he offended the London world by enlarging at the expense of Hyde Park (Doran, ii. 14-15; cf. as to his walks, Schulemburg's complaint ap. Vehse, i. 28).
From his father George I had inherited, with other 'noble passions,' a double portion of the paternal gallantry. His new subjects were much shocked by his mistresses, but chiefly because they were German and therefore written down ugly. In the last year or two of his reign 'he paid the nation the compliment of taking openly an English mistress' in the person of Anne Brett, daughter of Henry Brett [q. v.] (Horace Walpole, Reminiscences, pp. cv-vi). But the ascendency of the Duchess of Kendal (Mile, de Schulemburg), though Horace Walpole thought her 'no genius,' only came to an end with the life of the king; it was periodically disputed by the Countess of Darlington (Mme. de Kielmannsegge). By the former George I was supposed to be father of the Countess of Walsingham; by the latter of the subsequent Viscountess Howe. His stolid infatuation for these women, whom he loaded with Irish and then English peerages, estates, and the profits of vacant offices, and his cynical laxity towards the processes by which some of his German officials, courtiers, and servants sought to improve their opportunities, excited much aristocratic jealousy and popular ill-will; yet Bernstorff and Bothmar, as well as Robethon and perhaps some others,rendered services of real value. Many of George I's shortcomings might have been forgiven had it not been for his want of personal attractiveness. 'He had no notion of what is princely,' wrote the Duchess of Orleans—a censure justified by much more than his undisguised hatred of the parade of royalty and his dislike, noted by the same critic, of intercourse with people of quality. His whole person was commonplace, his countenance inexpressive though handsome, his address awkward, and his general manner dry and cold (for a description of his person and dress towards the close of his reign, see ib. p. xciv; cf. Coxe, i. 102). Not much religious feeling had been implanted in him by education, and in one of the 'philosophical conversations in his mother's circle he professed to be a materialist' (Correspondance de l'Electrice Sophie, ii. 163); but he gave ex-
