The Hanoverians who were on the political side or held posts in the Household might, by the exercise of a little tact, have lived down an unpopularity that was the result of circumstances rather than arising from any personal animosity.  That they did not do so may be ascribed partly, anyhow, to their own fault.

On the other hand, nothing probably would have overcome the prejudice against the ladies who followed George to this country.  These were the Countess Ehrengard Melusina von der Schulenburg, who, in 1716, was created Duchess of Munster in the Irish peerage, and three years after Duchess of Kendal, by which latter title she is more generally known, and the Baroness von Kielmansegg (nee Platen), who was presently elevated to the dignity of Countess of Darlington.  It was generally assured that these ladies were the King’s mistresses, and they were accordingly disliked not only at Court but also by the mob.  One of them when driving in London was assailed by terms of abuse—­as she understood scarcely any English, she could only go by the tone of the voices—­and putting her head out of the coach said:  “Good people, why abuse us?  We come for all your goods.”  “Yes, damn you,” cried someone, “and for our chattels, too.”  The man in the crowd only voiced the general opinion, and, it must be said, the general opinion was not far removed from the truth.

Of course, the Jacobites made the most of this, and, as Horace Walpole has related, “the seraglio was food for all the venom of the Jacobites, and, indeed, nothing could be grosser that was vomited out in lampoons, libels, and every channel of abuse against the Sovereign and the new Court and chanted even in their hearing in the public streets.”

It is mentioned in Walpoliana that “this couple of rabbits, the favourites, as they were called, occasioned much jocularity on their first importation.”  Some of the jocularity was aroused by their appearance.  The style of beauty, or what passed for beauty, in each country was markedly different.  Hear Lady Mary Wortley Montagu writing from Hanover in December, 1716:  “I have now got into the regions of beauty,” she told Lady Rich.  “All the women have literally rosy cheeks, snowy foreheads and bosoms, jet eye-brows, and scarlet lips, to which they generally add coal-black hair.  These perfections never leave them till the hour of their death, and have a very fine effect by candle-light, but I could wish they were handsome with a little more variety.  They resemble one another as much as Mrs. Salmon’s Court of Great Britain, and are in much danger of melting away by too near approaching the fire which they for that reason carefully avoid, though it is now such excessively cold weather, that I believe they suffer extremely by that piece of self-denial.”