In allusion to the crowds of nobles, gentle and simple, going up to congratulate the King, or to view the processions flocking to the foot of the throne, or surrounding the King, as it were, when he went to the first parliament, Walpole remarks: ‘The day the King went to the house I was three quarters of an hour getting through Whitehall. There were subjects enough to set up half a dozen petty kings: the Pretender would be proud to reign over the footmen only; and, indeed, unless he acquires some of them, he will have no subjects left; all their masters flock to St. James’s.’ In a few words he describes the scene at the theatre on the King’s first visit, alone. ‘The first night the King went to the play, which was civilly on a Friday, not on the opera night, as he used to do, the whole audience sang _God save the King_ in chorus. For the first act the press was so great at the door that no ladies could go to the boxes, and only the servants appeared there, who kept places. At the end of the second act the whole mob broke in and seated themselves.’ The play was ‘Richard the Third,’ in which Garrick represented the king. George III. repeated his visit on the 23rd of December to see ‘King John.’ His Majesty grievously offended Garrick on this night, by a manifestation of what the latter considered very bad taste. The King preferred Sheridan in Faulconbridge to Garrick in King John; and when this reached the ears of Garrick, he was excessively hurt; and, though the boxes were taken for ‘King John,’ for several nights, the offended ‘Roscius’ would not allow the play to have its proper run. But there were other stages, on which more solemn pageants had to be performed. The Sovereigns had yet to make their first appearance within the city liberties. The Queen was introduced to the citizens of London on Lord Mayor’s Day; on which occasion they may be said emphatically to have ‘made a day of it.’ They left St. James’s Palace at noon, and in great state, accompanied by all the royal family, escorted by guards, and cheered by the people, whose particular holiday was thus shared in common. There was the usual ceremony at Temple Bar of opening the gates to royalty and giving it welcome; and there was the once usual address made at the east end of St. Paul’s Churchyard, by the senior scholar of Christ’s Hospital School. Having survived the cumbrous formalities of the first, and smiled at the flowery figures of the second, the royal party proceeded on their way, not to Guildhall, but to the house of Mr. Barclay, the patent-medicine-vendor, an honest Quaker whom the King respected, and ancestor to the head of the firm whose name is not unmusical to Volscian ears--Barclay, Perkins, and Co.