It is impossible to say what George the First thought of these impeachments, probably he understood the principles of political freedom better than his Ministers. But the people had not yet divested themselves of the idea of the political responsibility of the King, and the persecuting spirit of the Ministers provoked a reaction not only against the Government, but against the monarch. The cheers which at first greeted the King’s appearance in public now gave place to hoots and seditious cries. For this unpopularity the King himself was largely responsible. The result of the election made him feel surer of his position on the throne, and he no longer troubled to conceal his natural ungraciousness. Unlike the Prince and Princess of Wales, he made no effort to court popularity or to feign sentiments he did not feel, and he openly expressed his dislike of England and all things English; he disliked the climate and the language, and did not trust the people. His dissatisfaction expressed itself even in the most trivial things. Nothing English was any good, even the oysters were without flavour. The royal household were at their wits’ end to know what could be the matter with them, until at last some one remembered that Hanover was a long way from the sea, and that the King had probably never eaten a fresh oyster before he came to England. Orders were given that they should be kept until they were stale, and the difficulty was solved--the King expressed himself satisfied and enjoyed them. But his other peculiarities were not so easily overcome. Notwithstanding that Parliament had been so liberal with the civil list, George showed himself extremely penurious in everything that related to his English subjects. “This is a strange country,” he grumbled once; “the first morning after my arrival at St. James’s I looked out of a window and saw a park with walks and a canal, which they told me was mine. The next day Lord Chetwynd, the ranger of my park, sent me a brace of my carp out of my canal, and I was told I must give five guineas to Lord Chetwynd’s man for bringing my own carp, out of my own canal, in my own park.” A reasonable complaint, it must be admitted, but his niggardliness had not always the same excuse. For example, it had been the custom of English sovereigns on their birthdays to give new clothes to their regiment of Guards, and George the First grudgingly had to follow precedent, but he determined to do it as cheaply as possible, and the shirts that were sent to the soldiers were so coarse that the men cried out against them. Some even went so far as to throw them down in the court-yard of St. James’s Palace, and soon after, when a detachment was marching through the city to relieve guard at the Tower, the soldiers evinced their mutinous disposition by pulling out their undergarments and showing them to the crowd, shouting derisively, “Look at our Hanoverian shirts”. The King’s miserliness did not extend to his Hanoverians.