This could hardly have been a very gay state ball, for their Majesties
were both absent. The King had that very day been attacked with hayfever,
and the Queen had dutifully stayed at home to nurse him. He rallied from
this attack somewhat, but never was well again, and in the small hours of
June 2d the sailor King died at Royal Windsor, royally enough, I believe,
though he had never been a very royal figure or spirit. Of course after
he was gone from his earthly kingdom, the most glowing eulogies were
pronounced upon him in Parliament, in the newspapers, and in hundreds of
pulpits. Even a year later, the Bishop of London, in his sermon at the
Queen's coronation, lauded the late King for his "unfeigned religion,"
and exhorted his "youthful successor" to "follow in his footsteps." Ah,
if she had done so, I should not now be writing Her Majesty's Life!
It must be that in a King a little religion goes a long way. The good
Bishop and other loyal prelates must have known all about the Fitz-
Clarences--those wild "olive branches about the table" of His Majesty;
and they were doubtless aware of that little unfortunate habit of
profanity, acquired on the high-seas, and scarcely becoming to the Head
of the Church; but they, perhaps, considered that His Majesty swore as
the sailor, not as the sovereign.
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