The prince not only protected poets but he wooed the Muses. Those shy ladies, however, loved him none the better for being a benefactor to their acknowledged children. The rhymes of Frederick were generally devoted to the ecstatic praises of his wife. The matter was good, but the manner was execrable. The lady deserved all that was said, but her virtues merited a more gracefully skilful eulogist. The reasoning was perfect, but the rhymes halted abominably. But how could it be otherwise? Apollo himself would not stoop to inspire a writer who, while piling up poetical compliments above the head of his blameless wife, was paying adoration, at all events not less sincere, to most worthless ladies of the court? The apparently exemplary father within the circle of home, where presided a beautiful mother over a bright young family, was a wretched libertine outside of that circle. His sin was great, and his taste of the vilest. His ‘favourites’ had nothing of youth, beauty, or intellect to distinguish them, or to serve for the poor apology of infidelity. Lady Archibald Hamilton was plain and in years when she enjoyed her bad pre-eminence. Miss Vane was impudent, and a maid of honour by office; nothing else: while Lady Middlesex was ‘short and dark, like a cold winter’s day,’ and as yellow as a November morning. Notwithstanding this, he played the father and husband well. He loved to have his children with him, always appeared most happy when in the bosom of his family, left them with regret, and met them again with smiles, kisses, and tears. He walked the streets unattended, to the great delight of the people; was the presiding Apollo at great festivals, conferred the prizes at rowings and racings, and talked familiarly with Thames fishermen on the mysteries of their craft. He would enter the cottages of the poor, listen with patience to their twice-told tales, and partake with relish of the humble fare presented to him. So did the old soldier find in him a ready listener to the story of his campaigns and the subject of his petitions; and never did the illustriously maimed appeal to him in vain. He was a man to be loved in spite of all his vices. He would have been adored had his virtues been more, or more real. But his virtue was too often--like his love for popular and parliamentary liberty--rather affected than real; and at all events, not to be relied upon.