More than twenty years elapsed before the great official at St. James’s thought that the original version might be acted without danger to the throne of George IV. In November, 1829, it was produced at Covent Garden as the ‘Royal Fugitive, or the Rights of Hospitality.’ Charles was played by the ex-artillery officer, Prescott, whose stage name was Warde. Diddear and Miss Tree acted the Duke and Duchess of Athol; Miss Cawse represented Flora Macdonald; and the terrible Duke William was roared through like a sucking dove by the milk-and-watery Horrebow. The drama did not shake the ‘happy establishment.’ Of the performers in 1829, one alone survives, the representative of the Duchess of Athol, Mrs. Charles Kean. [Sidenote: _SATIRICAL BALLAD._] But, five years previous to abandoning the timidity which saw danger in the stage dealing with a Stuart drama, a total change came over the governing powers in London. George IV. and Alderman Curtis had appeared in Edinburgh, in Highland garb, in 1822, and this led to an act of grace in 1824. The king’s visit to Scotland, however, did arouse a slumbering Jacobite bard, who gave vent to his rough humour in a satire, copies of which reached London in the king’s absence, and the flavour of which may be gathered from the following extracts:―― Sawney, naw the King’s come, Sawney, naw the King’s come, Down an’ kiss his gracious――hand, Sawney, naw the King’s come. In Holyrood House lodge him snug, An’ blarnyfy his royal lug (_ear_) Wi’ stuff wud gar a Frenchman ugg (_make sick_), Sawney, &c. Tell him he is great an’ gude, An’ come o’ royal Scottish blude, Down, like Paddy, lick his fud (_foot_)! Sawney, &c. Tell him he can do nae wrang, That he’s mighty high an’ strang, That you an’ yours to him belang, Sawney, &c. Swear he’s great, an’ chaste, an’ wise, Praise his portly shape an’ size, Rouse his whiskers to the skies, Sawney, &c. Make pious folk in gude black claith, Extol, till they run short o’ breath, The great Defender of the Faith, Sawney, &c. Make your peers o’ high degree, Crouching low on bended knee, Greet him wi’ a _Wha wants me?_ Sawney, &c. Let his glorious kingship dine, On gude sheepheads an’ haggis fine, Gi’e him whiskey ’stead o’ wine, Sawney, &c. Show him a’ your buildings braw, Your castle, college, brigs, an’ a’ Your jail an’ royal Forty-Twa (_an old institution_), Sawney, &c. An’ when he rides Auld Reckie through, To bless you wi’ a kingly view, Let him smell your ‘Gardy Loo’ (peculiar to the Old Town), Sawney, &c. [Sidenote: _REVERSAL OF ATTAINDERS._]