On the fourth day of cold February in that cold town of Hanover, in the year 1707, of a brilliant and beautiful young mother, in the great palace on the little river Leine, was born--perhaps it would be more correct to say crept into the world, for there was so little noise about it--a Prince of whom in after years his father remarked: “My dear first-born is the greatest ass and the greatest liar and the greatest _canaille_ and the greatest beast in the whole world, and I heartily wish he was out of it.”[1] If this worthy parent--who by-the-bye was no less a personage than King George the Second of England at the time of speaking--had any reason or truth in this most fatherly comment with it…
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