The king has been accused of indifference to passing events, and of having only reluctantly allowed the Duke of Cumberland, who served so nobly with him at Dettingen, to command the army against the young Chevalier. Perhaps, what seemed indifference was confidence in the result. There is evidence, however, that he was not without anxiety at this critical juncture. In Hamilton’s ‘History of the Grenadier Guards,’ there is the following description of a scene at St. James’s, quoted from Wraxall. The incident described is said to have occurred at the military levee held by the king, previous to the Guards marching to the north: ‘When the officers of the Guards were assembled, the king is said to have addressed them as follows: “Gentlemen, you cannot be ignorant of the present precarious situation of our country, and though I have had so many recent instances of your exertions, the necessities of the times and the knowledge I have of your hearts, induce me to demand your service again; so all of you that are willing to meet the rebels hold up your right hand; all those who may, from particular reasons, find it inconvenient, hold up your left.” In an instant, all the right hands in the room were held up, which so affected the king, that in attempting to thank the company, his feelings overpowered him; he burst into tears and retired.’ [Sidenote: _ASPECTS OF SOCIETY._] While this scene was being acted at St. James’s, Mrs. Elizabeth Montagu, then residing in Dover Street, wrote to Dr. Freind: ‘People of the greatest rank here have been endeavouring to make the utmost advantage of the unhappy state of their country, and have _sold_ the assistance it was their duty to _give_. Self-interest has taken such firm possession of every breast, that not any threatening calamity can banish it in the smallest instance. There is no view of the affair more melancholy than this.... Everything is turned to a job, and money given for the general good is converted too much to private uses.... There were some exceptions. Almost all our nobility,’ she writes, ‘are gone to the army, so that many of the great families are in tears, and indeed it makes the town appear melancholy and dismal.’ There were exceptions in this case. ‘Let it be said, to the honour of our sex, there are no dramas, no operas, and plays are unfrequented; and there is not a woman in England, except Lady Brown, that has a song or tune in her head; but indeed her ladyship is very unhappy at the suspension of operas.’ On the night this letter was written, Mrs. Clive’s Portia, at Drury Lane, was unattractive, in spite of her imitations of eminent lawyers, in the trial scene; and Mrs. Pritchard’s Lappet was equally unavailing to bring the public to witness ‘The Miser,’ at Covent Garden. But Rich’s three nights of the ‘Beggars’ Opera,’ for the benefit of the patriotic fund, produced happy results. From Mrs. Cibber down to the candle-snuffers, all sacrificed their pay with alacrity.