Lord and Lady Talbot made a determined effort to win the good-will of the country. Daniel O'Connell's raging, tearing propaganda was disturbing, and ever threatened a revolution, but Talbot thought that by devoting some of his time to the patronage of agriculture he might gain more adherents to the Government's policy. The farmers were not ungrateful, but Lord Talbot must have realized before he was a year in the country that the solution of the Irish question was not so easy as he had thought it to be. Peel, summoned to London for more important duties, still maintained his opposition to O'Connell and the Catholic claims. Then, in 1821, the Cabinet had a brilliant idea which resolved itself into this--that all Irish problems should be solved by a State visit from George IV. Hitherto English kings had been accustomed to visit Ireland in the role of fugitives, but George IV. was to come as a great monarch, the first gentleman in Europe--and, as Thackeray had said, 'the biggest blackguard'--and Irish loyalty was to be aroused from its dormant condition. The king carried out the plans laid down for him, and he had no cause to regret making the acquaintance of his Irish subjects. He scrutinized everything he saw in Ireland with the air and interest of a schoolboy visiting a waxworks show. English uniforms seemed to fascinate him when worn by Irish soldiers, and he hummed and hawed question after question from the beginning to the end of his visit. {220} 'Who is that magnificent-looking officer?' he asked the viceroy, indicating the figure of Sir Philip Crampton, the celebrated surgeon. 'Oh, that is a general of the Lancers, sir,' was the witty reply, and the king passed on to something else. The most humorous incident of his visit arose out of His Majesty's desire to witness some racing at the Curragh. In great state he travelled down, and every preparation was made to supply the royal visitor with a magnificent lunch. The pantries of Dublin and London were searched for dainties, and everything possible pressed into service. It happened to be a very wet day, and the races did not prove very exciting, but the king chivalrously maintained his interest as long as he could. When he retired to his room, where gorgeous flunkeys of all ranks waited breathlessly for the king to name his refreshment, George IV. did not keep them long in doubt--he wanted a cup of tea. A simple request, and one easily granted, for in the royal pavilion were the choicest teas, the finest sugar and cream, and, of course, plenty of hot water. Then someone called for a cup and saucer. Great consternation ensued when it was discovered that those simple requisites had been forgotten. There was absolutely nothing in which to serve the tea to the royal visitor!