“Providence seems to have directed the blow where we thought ourselves the most secure; for among the many schemes of hopes and fears which people were laying down to themselves, this was never mentioned as a supposable event. The harmony which appears to subsist between His Majesty and the Princess of Wales, is the best support for the spirits of the nation under their present concern and astonishment. He died in the forty-fifth year of his age, and is generally allowed to have been a prince of amiable and generous disposition, of elegant manners and considerable talent.” “When the Rambler appeared, he so enjoyed its stately wisdom,” says Dr. Doran, “that he sought after the author in order to serve him if he needed service. His method of serving an author was not mere lip compliment. Pope indeed might be satisfied with receiving from him a complimentary visit at Twickenham. The poet there was on equal terms with the Prince; and when the latter asked him how it was that the author who hurled his shafts against kings could be so friendly towards the son of a King, Pope somewhat pertly answered, that he who dreaded the lion, might safely enough fondle the cub. But Frederick could really be princely to authors, and what is even more, he could do a good action gracefully, an immense point where there is a good action to be done. “Thus to Tindal he sent a gold medal worth forty guineas; and to dry and dusty Glover, for whose ‘Leonidas’ he had much respect, he sent a note for five hundred pounds, when the poet was in difficulties. This handsome gift, too, was sent unasked. The son of song was honoured, and not humiliated, by the gift. “It does not matter whether Lyttelton or any one else taught him to be the patron of literature and literary men; it is to his credit that he recognised them, acknowledged their services, and saw them with pleasure at his little court, often giving them precedence over those whose greatness was the mere result of accident of birth.” And this little anecdote of Lady Huntingdon. He missed her from his circle one day, and asked Lady Charlotte Edwin where she was. “Oh! I dare say,” exclaimed Lady Charlotte, who was not pious then, but became so after, “I dare say she is praying with her beggars!” Frederick the “childish,” “whose passion was women,” turned and looked at her. “Lady Charlotte,” he answered, “when I am dying I think I shall be happy to seize the skirt of Lady Huntingdon’s mantle to lift me up to Heaven!” Finally, listen to what Dr. Doran says of him a hundred years after, summing up his character.