Kitabı oku: «The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 19, No. 545, May 5, 1832», sayfa 3

GEORGE THE SECOND

At one period, while the Duke of Newcastle was in power, in the reign of George II. many serious complaints were made relative to the settlement of public accounts. The King, at length, became acquainted with the alleged grievances, and warmly remonstrated with the Duke on his carelessness and inattention; protested that he was determined, at once for his own satisfaction and that of his aggrieved people, to look into the papers himself. "Is your Majesty in earnest?" asked the Duke. The King replied in the affirmative, and the Duke promised to send him the accounts. At an early hour on the following morning, the King was disturbed by an extraordinary noise in the courtyard of his palace, and, looking out of the window, he perceived a cart or a wagon laden with books and papers, which, on inquiry he found had been sent by the Duke of Newcastle. Shortly afterwards the minister himself appeared, and the King asked him what he meant by sending a wagon-load of stationery to the palace. "These are the documents relative to the public accounts," replied his grace, "which your Majesty insisted on examining; and there is no other mode of forwarding them except by carts or wagons. I expect a second load will arrive in a few minutes." "Then, my Lord Duke," replied the King, "you may make a bonfire of them for me. I would rather be a galley-slave than go through the rubbish; so away with it, and countermand the cart which you say is coming; but pray let me hear no more complaints on this subject."

On another occasion, he sent, in a fury, for the duke's brother, Mr. Pelham, and inquired, in a coarse and angry manner, why the civil list had not been paid. Pelham replied that he had been compelled to use the money for some public and more important purpose. The King, however, would not admit of this excuse; and swore, if the arrears were not instantly paid, he would get another minister. "I am determined," said he, "not to be the only master in my dominions who does not pay his servants' wages." One day, it appears that he was actually without a shilling in his pocket; for it is related that a half idiot labourer while the King was inspecting the progress of some repairs at Kensington, having asked his Majesty for something to drink, the King, although offended, was yet ashamed to refuse the fellow, and put his hand into the usual receptacle of his cash; but, to his surprise and confusion, found it empty. "I have no money," said he, angrily. "Nor I either," quoth the labourer; "and for my part, I can't think what has become of it all."

Few men were more deeply impressed with the value of money, although he occasionally startled those about him, by being unexpectedly liberal, as in the cases of his donation to the university of Cambridge, and his submitting to the extortion of the Dutch innkeeper. One evening while passing by a closet in which wood was kept for the use of the bed-chamber, he dropped some guineas, one of which having rolled under the door, he said to the page in waiting, "We must get out this guinea: let us remove the fuel." In a short time, with the attendant's aid, he found the guinea, which, however, he gave to his fellow-labourer, as a reward for the exertions of the latter, in helping him to take the wood out of the closet, observing, "I do not like any thing to be lost, but I wish every man to receive the value of his work."

Of the hastiness of George the Second's temper, several examples have been given: but it was never, perhaps, more ludicrously displayed than in his first interview with Dr. Ward. The King having been afflicted for some time with a violent pain in his thumb, for which his regular medical attendants could afford him no relief, he sought the assistance of Ward, whose famous pills and drops were then in great estimation. The doctor, being aware of the King's complaint, went to the palace, at the time commanded, with, it is said, a specific concealed in the hollow of his hand. On being admitted to his Majesty's presence, he, of course, proceeded to examine the royal thumb; which he suddenly wrenched with such violence, that the King called him a cursed rascal, and condescended to kick his shins. He soon found, however, that the doctor, had as it were, magically relieved his thumb from pain: and so grateful did he feel to Ward, whom he now termed his Esculapius, that he prevailed on him to accept a handsome carriage and horses, and shortly afterwards, presented his nephew, who subsequently became a general, with an ensigncy in the guards.—From the Georgian Era.

NOTES OF A READER

THE HUNCHBACK

A Play, by James Sheridan Knowles

It would be rather mal-apropos to write the Beauties of the Hunchback, but such a term is elliptically applicable to the following passages from Mr. Knowles's clever and original play:—

 
INSIGNIFICANT ENEMIES.
 
 
Is't fit you waste your choler on a burr?
The nothings of the town; whose sport it is
To break their villain jests on worthy men,
The graver still the fitter! Fie, for shame!
Regard what such would say? So would not I,
No more than heed a cur.
 
 
HONOURABLE SUCCESS.
 
 
What merit to be dropp'd on fortune's hill?
The honour is to mount it.
* * * Knowledge, industry,
Frugality, and honesty;—the sinews
The surest help the climber to the top,
And keep him there.
 
 
WISE PRECEPT.
 
 
Better owe
A yard of land to labour, than to chance
Be debtor for a rood!
 
 
THE TOWN.
 
 
Nine times in ten the town's a hollow thing,
Where what things are is naught to what they show;
Where merit's name laughs merit's self to scorn!
Where friendship and esteem that ought to be
The tenants of men's hearts, lodge in their looks
And tongues alone. Where little virtue, with
A costly keeper, passes for a heap;
A heap for none, that has a homely one!
Where fashion makes the law—your umpire which
You bow to, whether it has brains or not.
Where Folly taketh off his cap and bells,
To clap on Wisdom, which must bear the jest!
Where, to pass current you must seem the thing,
The passive thing, that others think, and not
Your simple, honest, independent self!
 
 
LOVE.
 
 
Say but a moment, still I say I love you.
Love's not a flower that grows on the dull earth;
Springs by the calendar; must wait for sun—
For rain;—matures by parts,—must take its time
To stem, to leaf, to bud, to blow. It owns
A richer soil, and boasts a quicker seed!
You look for it, and see it not; and lo!
E'en while you look, the peerless flower is up,
Consumate in the birth!
 
 
In joining contrasts lieth love's delight.
Complexion, stature, nature, mateth it,
Not with their kinds, but with their opposites.
Hence hands of snow in palms of russet lie;
The form of Hercules affects the sylph's
And breasts that case the lion's fear-proof heart,
Find their lov'd lodge in arms where tremors dwell!
Haply for this, on Afric's swarthy neck,
Hath Europe's priceless pearl been seen to hang,
That makes the orient poor! So with degrees,
Rank passes by the circlet-graced brow
Upon the forehead bare of notelessness,
To print the nuptial kiss!
 
 
COUNTRY LIFE.
 
 
The life I'd lead!
But fools would fly from it; for O! 'tis sweet!
It finds the heart out, be there one to find;
And corners in't where store of pleasures lodge,
We never dream'd were there! It is to dwell
'Mid smiles that are not neighbours to deceit;
Music whose melody is of the heart
And gifts that are not made for interest,—
Abundantly bestow'd, by nature's cheek,
And voice, and hand! It is to live on life,
And husband it! It is to constant scan
The handiwork of heaven! It is to con
Its mercy, bounty, wisdom, power! It is
To nearer see our God!
 
 
JEALOUSY.
 
 
A dreadful question is it, when we love,
To ask if love's return'd! I did believe
Fair Julia's heart was mine—I doubt it now.
But once last night she danced with me, her hand
To this gallant and that engaged, as soon
As asked for! Maid that loved would scarce do this!
Nor visit we together as we used,
When first she came to town. She loves me less
Than once she did—or loves me not at all.
Misfortune liketh company: it seldom
Visits its friends alone.
 
 
A MAIDEN HEART.
 
 
A young woman's heart,
Is not a stone to carve a posey on!
Which knows not what is writ on't—which you may buy,
Exchange or sell,—keep or give away,
It is a richer—yet a poorer thing!
Priceless to him that owns and prizes it;
Worthless when own'd, not priz'd; which makes the man
That covets it, obtains it, and discards it,—
A fool, if not a villain.
 
 
A CURATE'S SON.
 
 
Better be a yeoman's son!
Was it the rector's son, he might be known,
Because the rector is a rising man,
And may become a bishop. He goes light.
The curate ever hath a loaded back.
He may be called yeoman of the church
That sweating does his work, and drudges on
While lives the hopeful rector at his ease.
 

CHARACTER OF GEORGE THE FOURTH

In the third and concluding volume of the Life and Reign of George IV., (a portion of Dr. Lardner's Cabinet Library,) we find the following summary of the earthly career of the late King—shaded with some admixture of severity, but, altogether, to be commended for the manliness and unflinching spirit in which it is written. Our contemporary biography sadly lacks vigorous and plain-speaking summaries of character.

"In the events and achievements which give interest and lustre to his regency and reign, George IV. had personally no share. He was but contemporary with them. To the progress of science, of literature, of legislation, he was a stranger. The jealous limitations of the regal power,—the independence, enterprise, and social advancement of the nation, would account and afford excuse for this: but were he absolute as Louis XIV.,—obeyed and imitated with the same implicit servility,—the higher purposes of intellectual being were beyond his range. With the fine arts his relations were more close and personal. The progress of architecture was sudden and astonishing, during the epoch which will bear his name. London, before his accession to the executive power, was a rich, populous, elegantly built capital, but without a due proportion of prominent structures characterized by architectural grandeur, beauty, or curiosity. In a few years magnificent lines and masses of building were begun and completed; but they were mainly the growth of wealth, vanity, speculation, and peace. Where his influence was directly felt it proved unfortunate. He lavished millions in creating vicious models, and fantastic styles of architecture, and brought into fashion artists without capacity or taste. There was not in his kingdom a more discerning judge of painting; but he had no imagination for the higher class of art. He preferred the exquisite and humorous realities of the Dutch painters to the poetic or historic schools of Italy; and, though a studious collector, he gave no great impulse to native talent. In music he had both taste and skill: he encouraged an art which formed one of his enjoyments; and if his patronage has brought forth no composer of the first order, the cause may exist in some circumstances of national inaptitude.

"It is necessary to go back some centuries for an English king to whom he bears the nearest likeness in ensemble of character. The parallel at first sight may be thought injurious, but the likeness will upon consideration be found striking and complete. George IV. had in his youth the eclat of personal endowment, education, and accomplishment,—of success in the fashionable exercises and graces of his age,—and of that reckless prodigality which obtains popular homage and applause in a prince. Henry VIII. in his youth was one of the most brilliant personages of Europe. A fine person,—the accomplishments of his time in literature and the arts,—the display of gorgeous prodigality,—raised him to a sort of chivalrous rivalry with Francis I. In mental culture he excelled George IV., who owes much of his reputation for capacity and acquirement to an imposing manner, and the eagerness to applaud a prince: stripped of this charm, his ideas and language appeared worse than common when he put them on paper. Both had the same dominant ambition to be distinguished and imitated, as the arbiters of fashion in dress for the costliness, splendour, or novelty of their toilet. Henry VIII. and George IV. surrounded themselves with the men most distinguished for wit and talent, with a remarkable coincidence of motive, as ministering to their vanity or pleasures; but as soon as they became troublesome or useless, both cast them off with the same careless indifference. Henry VIII., it is true, sacrificed to his own caprices, or to court intrigue, the lives of those whom he had chosen for his social familiarity;—whilst George IV. merely turned off his so called friends, and thought of them no more. But such is the difference between barbarism and tyranny on the one side, and civilization and freedom on the other: that which was death in the former, is but court disgrace in the latter. George IV. was not cruel—he had even a certain susceptibility; the spectacle of human suffering revolted him: but suffering to affect him must have been present to his sense. Was Henry VIII. gratuitously cruel? That does not appear. He took no pleasure for itself in shedding blood, and avoided being a witness of it. Had he been obliged to look on whilst Anne Boleyn and Sir Thomas More were bleeding, he probably would have spared them. He sacrificed them to his impulses from mere selfish indifference. With their wives and mistresses Henry VIII. and George IV. were governed by the same self-indulgent despotism—the same animal disgusts. Henry VIII. had six wives, and sent one to the scaffold as the prelude to his marriage with another. George IV. had only one wife, but she suffered the persecutions of six; and if she escaped decapitation or divorce, it was from no failure of inclination or instruments. Henry VIII. was the tyrant of his people, and George IV. was not: yet is there even here a similitude. Both surrendered their understandings to their ministers, upon the condition of subserviency to their personal desires. What George would have been in the age of Henry it might be ungracious to suppose; but it may be asserted that Henry, had he been reserved for the close of the eighteenth century, would have a very different place in opinion and history as a king and as a man,—such are the beneficent, humanizing influences of knowledge, civilization, the spirit of religious tolerance, and laws mutually guarding and guarded by public liberty!"