To the Duchess of Kendal--George (who was so shocked at the infidelity of which his wife was alleged to be guilty) was to the mistress as inconstant as to the wife he had been untrue. He set aside the former, to put in her place Madame Kielmansegge, called, like her mother, Countess von Platen. On the death of her husband, in 1721, he raised her to the rank of Countess of Leinster in Ireland, Countess of Darlington and Baroness of Brentford in England. Coxe says of her, that her power over the King was not equal to that of the Duchess of Kendal, but her character for rapacity was not inferior. Horace Walpole has graphically portrayed Lady Darlington in the following passage:-- ‘Lady Darlington, whom I saw at my mother’s in my infancy, and whom I remember by being terrified at her enormous figure, was as corpulent and ample as the duchess was long and emaciated. The fierce black eyes, large, and rolling beneath two lofty arched eyebrows, two acres of cheeks spread with crimson, an ocean of neck that overflowed, and was not distinguished from, the lower part of her body, and no part restrained by stays--no wonder that a child dreaded such an ogress.’ The mob had a strong Tory leaven at this time, and among the multitude circulated a mass of broadsides and ballads, of so openly a seditious character that the power of the law was stringently applied to suppress the evil. Before the year was out half the provincial towns in England were infected with seditious sentiments against the Whig government, which had brought in a King whose way of life was a scandal to them. This feeling of contempt for both King and government was wide as well as deep; and it was so craftily made use of by the leaders of public opinion, that, before George had been three months upon the throne, the ‘High-church rabble,’ as the Tory party was called, in various country towns were violent in their proceedings against the government; and at Axminster, in Devonshire, shouted for the Pretender, and drank his health as King of England. The conduct of George to his wife, Sophia Dorothea, was as satirically dealt with, in the way of censure, as any of his delinquencies, and his character as a husband was not forgotten in the yearly tumults of his time, which broke out on every recurring anniversary of Queen Anne’s birthday (April the 23rd) to the end of his reign. If the new King was dissatisfied with his new subjects, he liked as little the manners of England. ‘This is a strange country,’ said his Majesty; ‘the first morning after my arrival at St. James’s, I looked out of the window, and saw a park, with walks, a canal, and so forth, which they told me were mine. The next day, Lord Chetwynd, the ranger of _my_ park, sent me a fine brace of carp out of _my_ canal, and I was told that I must give five guineas to Lord Chetwynd’s servant, for bringing me _my own_ carp, out of _my own_ canal, in _my own_ park!’