issuing from the room; the king was on the floor, blood trickling from his forehead; the right ventricle of the heart had burst, and he had cut his head against a bureau in the act of falling. His daughter, the Princess Amelia, was instantly sent for before the attendants had closed the eyes of the dead king; but the princess was very deaf and near sighted, she had not realised that death had for ever sealed the lips of her father; she thought he spoke to her, and bent down, hoping to catch some of his last words, and so discovered that he was dead. George I had reigned over England thirty-three years, having ascended the throne in 1727. Perhaps the best that can be said of him, and that is really not a little to say, is that he never invaded the rights of the nation, or offensively urged his own prerogative; while the Protestant succession was assuredly strengthened and made more secure by his government. About this time his death had, however, been confidently expected by multitudes of the people. As Lord Chesterfield writes, "for a very good reason, the oldest lion in the Tower, much about the king's age, died about a fortnight ago. This extravagancy, I assure you," continues his lordship, "was believed by many above the common people." The Prince of Wales, henceforth to be known as George III, was the grandson of George II, and now aged twenty-two; for a period of sixty years, through many viscissitudes, public and private, he was to wear the crown. Even through some sad intervening periods, when his feeble hands were unequal to grasp the sceptre of sovereignty, his is the longest reign as yet, and perhaps the most eventful in the British annals. On this morning the young prince was riding alone on horseback from his palace at Kew to London, to give some directions concerning an organ which was being built for him. The last recreation of the blind and deaf old king was the first enjoyment of the buoyant and hopeful young man. On his way he was met by a man, also on horseback, who gave into his hands " a piece of coarse white-brown paper." These were his own words, in which, at a distant period, he described the eventful circumstance. The paper bore the name of a well-known valet of the late king.

This mode of conveying the intelligence will not seem very remarkable when it is remembered that the young king was not the favourite son of his mother, and he had not been on very good terms with his grandfather; and even George III, to the latest day of his power of conscious recollection, appears never to have forgotten a blow he received from the king in one of the rooms of Hampton Palace. At this moment, young as he was, he acted in such a manner as to win for himself the commendations of Horace Walpole, one seldom disposed to be a kindly critic of the conduct of any person, "for a behaviour throughout of the greatest propriety, dignity, and decency."

He did not hurry on to Kensington; he returned, without assigning any reason, to Kew, there to await more distinct information, which soon arrived from his aunt, the Princess Amelia. The next day he was proclaimed king. There had been but little sympathy between himself and his predecessor, but the manner in which he carried out all the wishes of George II is worthy of the highest praise. In similar circumstances, the late king had destroyed his father's will, as it contained some particulars which he judged inimical to his interests. During the entire time in which the old king lay dead, until his

burial, the young man transferred all honours given himself to the departed sovereign.

George III was born in Norfolk House, St. James's Square, London, June 4th, 1738. Norfolk House was not the present mansion bearing that name; that was pulled down in 1742, and the present house was erected on its site. The father of George III died when his eldest son was eleven years old, and then he became the heir-apparent to a king who was sixty-seven. His education was singularly neglected. The education of kings has often been neglected, and especially in those very particulars which are supposed to be so absolutely essential even to the mere machinery of communication with men, not to speak of those higher attainments which give width to knowledge and nerve to thought. Dr. Francis Ayscough, afterwards Dean of Bristol, was appointed his preceptor at seven years of age; and we have a letter from him to Dr. Doddridge, dated February 16th, 1745, in which he says: "I must tell you that Prince George, to his honour and my shame, has learned several pages from your little book of verses without any directions from me.' ." Yet Dr. Ayscough seems to have been undoubtedly remiss in his attendance upon all his duties with reference to the prince, and however, at seven years of age, he might have learned Dr. Doddridge's verses, it is certain that at eleven he could not read English well. His education was not only defective, it was marked and misdirected on principle by those who were about him. It was remarkable that efforts were made to bias his mind towards the Jacobite faction, and it is probable that it was with reference to the utterance of some such opinions that George II, in a moment of ungovernable rage, struck his grandson. The high-spirited youth resented it, and, as we have said, the future king never forgot it. "I wonder,” said the late Duke of Sussex, while passing through the apartments at Hampton Court, "in which of these rooms it was that George II struck my father!" The blow so disgusted him with the place that he could never afterwards be induced to think of it as a residence. This early anecdote is very characteristic at once of the narrowness of his nature, which forbade him to forget, and the high spirit and conscious rectitude which could retain the sense of the indignity so long.

From his earliest years, before his ascension to the throne, the prince was remarkable at once for modesty, scrupulous rectitude, and good sense. He was always shrewd, and even in those days, when surrounded by flatterers, he was in the habit of saying, "if he were not what he was, flatterers would pay no attention to him; they paid no court to his brother only because he had no chance to be king." He passed safely through all the temptations from the high ladies of the Court, and only one scandal, through a long life of eighty-two years, has ever touched the character of George III, and this only to glance aside as utterly destitute of truth. The story of Hannah Lightfoot, the fair Quakeress, is not worthy of a moment's attention; it may always be veiled in some obscurity. Mr. Jesse has told the story copiously, so far as a mere myth, or legend, can be told; but there seems little that can give to it all the aspect of probability, and a life so singularly high-principled and pure ought to be exempted from the remotest suspicion which can attach to it from surmises built out of surmises, and possibilities shadowed forth from doubts. Assuredly, those tales

which represent the Prince of Wales as married at Kew to Hannah Lightfoot-above all other witnesses in the world-in the presence of Mr. Pitt, afterwards the great Earl of Chatham, carry, one should think, their own very sufficient confutation. Pitt a witness to such a marriage is too ludicrous a juxtaposition to be entertained for a moment by any save the most prurient dreamers of mysteries and romances. There was a young lady who probably threw some enthralment round the heart of the young monarch, Lady Sarah Lennox, sister of the Duke of Richmond. Her personal loveliness was of the highest order. Horace Walpole says, "Correggio never painted a face half so lovely and expressive; and," he continues, "in my opinion, the king had thoughts of her as a wife." We may be sure her family would have been very glad to see such a match as would have opened an avenue to their highest ambitions. Nor were there any barriers in those times to such a marriage, excepting the barrier which must always exist between a sovereign and a subject. There were no objections arising from any absolute inequality of rank-nay, perhaps there were reasons which might have made the match a healing and wise one, for Lady Sarah was the last surviving great-granddaughter of Charles II; and thus, had young affections been permitted to fulfil themselves unchecked, the races of the Stuarts and of Hanover might again have mingled into one. Thus for a little while we read of meetings not unknown to young hearts, and which old ones sometimes like to contemplate in order that they may renew their own youth.

Lady Sarah was staying at Holland House, the residence of her ambitious brother-in-law, Henry Fox, afterwards Lord Holland, not far from St. James's. On fine summer mornings the young king often turned his horse's head in the direction of some fields in the neighbourhood, in the expectation of exchanging a few words with the beautiful young girl who was engaged in the idyllic occupation of haymaking. The hopes of her family were excited to the highest pitch; the Princess-Dowager and Lord Bute, who had superseded Pitt in the administration, were smitten with surprise and fear in the presence of such a disastrous possibility. Here would be a fatal triumph for the great Whig lords! The king sent her messages when she was leaving London; he hoped "she would return for the coronation; but," continued he, "they talk of a wedding. There have been many proposals, but I think an English match would do better than a foreign one. Pray tell Lady Sarah so!" But kings cannot dispose of these affairs usually after their own desires, excepting in the manifestation of that admirable self-command which the king in this instance undoubtedly exhibited. The passion seems scarcely to have been a short-lived one. It is said-but probably that is only a fancy-that those who watched his countenance upon the occasion of his actual marriage remarked some agitating emotions there when the Archbishop of Canterbury came to those words in the service, "As Thou didst send Thy blessing upon Abraham and Sarah to their great comfort, so vouchsafe to send Thy blessing upon these Thy servants." It perhaps did not diminish the awkwardness of the moment that the Lady Sarah was standing immediately near as one of the bridesmaids. Even long years afterwards, when at the theatre during one of the performances of a very charming actress, Mrs. Pape, whose face and manners were thought to bear a strong resemblance to those

of Lady Sarah, the old recollections swept over the king; the presence of the queen and the surrounding attendants was forgotten, and, in a moment of melancholy abstraction, he exclaimed, "She is very like Lady Sarah still!" Lady Sarah, it may be mentioned, married twice, first Sir Charles Bembury, and afterwards the Honourable George Napier, by whom she became the mother of Sir William Napier, the well-known author of the "History of the Peninsular War," and of his equally celebrated brother, Sir Charles. She survived the king, and died in 1826, at the advanced age of eighty-two.

Such was the little episode which led to the hurrying on arrangements for the marriage of the young king, and his mind was understood to have been directed to the Princess Charlotte of Mecklenburg-Strelitz by Frederick the Great. In fact, the young lady had written to Frederick a letter, when she was but sixteen years and a half old, apparently entirely at her own dictation, bringing before him, in very vigorous and pathetic language, the condition to which his wars had reduced the Palatinate of Mecklenburg; it is impossible to read it even now without being impressed by its beauty, strength, and truth. Frederick is understood to have forwarded this letter or a copy of it to the Princess of Wales. Lady Sarah was out of the question, and the young king feeling that he must yield to the dictates of State, and marry, said, when he read this impulse of a generous nature, to Lord Hertford, "This is the lady for my consort; here are lasting beauties, and surely the man who has any mind may feast and not be satiated. If the disposition of the princess but equal her refined sense, I shall be happy." So the obscure princess was astonished one day by the arrival of ambassadors from England to her father's little Court; the arrangements were soon made, and the king's hand accepted. Horace Walpole, in his cynical way, says, "He believed there were not six men in England who knew that such a princess existed." And he wrote again, "The handkerchief has been tossed a vast way; it is to one Charlotte, Princess of Mecklenburg. Lord Harcourt is to be at her father's Court, if he can find it, on the 1st of August, and the coronation of both their Majesties is fixed for the 22nd of September." Astonishing must have been the change to her; young ladies should take care what letters they write when such possible issues hang upon their pens. Her young days had passed, hitherto, in utter retirement, and she always loved to refer to them when talking to Mrs. Delany and other friends in her advanced age. She described herself as a simple German girl, dressed, with her sisters, during the week, only in a robe-de-chambre, except on Sundays, when she put on her best gown to attend Divine Service, and was permitted a State ride; and sometimes she would produce the jewels she wore, garnet earrings and strings of beads sewn on a plate, which, as she said, "a housemaid of these days would despise." On the voyage she proved herself a fair sailor, and whilst the Duchesses of Ancaster and Hamilton, who were sent to escort her, and who were regarded as the most beautiful women in England, were sick through the whole journey, she occupied herself with singing the old hymns of Luther and of her native church. On the 7th September she landed on the British shores, and moved through the country, after the slow fashion of those days, through torrents of acclamations and exhibitions of general enthusiasm.

From the Painting by H. Stacey Marks, A.R.A., in the Exhibition of 1878.

IN

a former series of papers we have endeavoured to bring before our readers the theories of social reformers, and have followed them in their adventurous intellectual flights to ideal regions and the romantic descriptions of imaginary societies. In the present series we propose to examine some of the most important experiments made from time to time to carry the theory into practice and to realise the schemes of social improvement propounded by philosophers in actual life. We shall pass in review the various Communistic institutions which have been established from time to time, having for their object social combination on the principles of simplicity of life, equality of fortune, and a diffusion of contented happiness, in short, "fraternal union among men for industrial purposes, a working in common for the common good.'

In doing so we shall have occasion to point out how far theory and practice agree, and to what extent the reality of things differs from the imaginary states of society painted in such glowing colours by the writers of Utopias.

Remembering the ancient adage, experientia docet (experience teaches), we shall be able to draw our conclusions on the feasibility or impracticability of Socialistic institutions from the results obtained in such efforts, and thus a review of Communistic societies past and present will supply the materials for a critique on the theory itself, as far as we are able to judge, of the design of the plan from its

execution.

Now practice always precedes theory, as language precedes grammar. Therefore we are compelled to go back for the realisation of Utopias to times and events before Utopias were written. We shall, then, begin with the Communism of the early Christians and the Essenes, and proceed in tracing the rise and progress of various Communisms down to the present day.

There were Communistic societies before then, but under totally different circumstances. The Cretans and the Spartans, among others, for example, had a Communistic institution, and Madame Roland, a fervent admirer and a victim of the French Revolution, even shed tears because she was not destined to live in Sparta under these conditions. But the equality practised there was only an equality of free citizens. Slaves had to do the greater share of the work in the State whilst their masters consumed equally the produce of their labour. When Christianity "gave a new turn to the life of our race," socially by the abolition of slavery, which followed as one of the most startling results of its indirect influences, it established a principle of equality which included the slave as well as the freeman. Moreover, the moral enthusiasm which springs from religious convictions as a prime motor in all social organisation and reform, exercised

an im

a powerful influence on European society with the rise and diffusion of Christianity throughout the Roman Empire. It is well, therefore, to confine ourselves, in our comparative view of Communistic societies, to such as have been founded since the Christian era, since all these are influenced more or less by the same religious convictions, and similar moral standards and external conditions arising therefrom. It has been pointed out again and again that Christianity appeared first in the Roman Empire torn asunder by social class divisions, amid great distress and despair among the masses of the people, "as the ideal of popular hope and longing," and that in a rotten state of society, disturbed by Socialistic agitation, it held out the promises of " mense renovation and transformation of things." The gulf between rich and poor, a small minority monopolising all the wealth of the empire whilst the people were living in abject poverty, threatened then, as it does now, to bring about a serious social disruption, and, as a matter of fact, the social question for several centuries before the birth of Christ was sapping the very foundation of the colossal power of Rome. A hundred years before Christ all the property of Rome was shared by 2,000 families, "the magnates of birth and commerce;" the rest consisted of poor freemen to the amount of a million and a quarter, mainly paupers depending for their livelihood on public largesses, whilst forty in every hundred of the population were probably slaves. The ownership of land was confined to a small number of proprietors, and the soil was cultivated by bands of unfree labourers, who were often treated most cruelly by their masters. The class of small farmers, no longer able to enter into competition with the owners of vast lands, disappeared, and their holdings became the pleasure garden of the rich purchaser. Usury and mercantile speculation spread ruin among all but the rich capitalists. As to the people of the dependencies and colonies, the Roman satirist remarks, "We devour nations to the very sinews." The farmers and collectors of taxes, on account of their private and public rapacity, became the most abhorred class of Roman officials. The wealth extorted from the provinces increased the chasm between a bloated plutocracy and the impoverished proletarians in the capital. A fortune of £15,000 was considered small in a senator, and the dowry of £12,500, given by Scipio Africanus to his daughter, was regarded as very insignificant. Cicero had only a fortune of £150,000, and the King of Cappadocia owed to Pompey alone five times that sum, whilst the landed property of Crassus was valued at £1,600,000. This enormous increase of wealth among a few led to effeminate luxury and the waste of large fortunes in a single feast, whilst penury and privation became the lot of millions of