Abbildungen der Seite
PDF
EPUB

"The sin was of our native growth, 'tis true;
The scandal of the sin was wholly new.
Misses they were, but modestly concealed;
Whitehall the naked Venus first revealed.
Who, standing as at Cyprus, in her shrine,
The strumpet was adored with rites divine."

The scandal drew in its horns in the time of James the Second, who had more of the Jesuit in him; but the time was now approaching when the bustle of Whitehall was to be broken up, and the place no longer to be a seat of royalty. James was obliged to write a letter to his invader, William, inviting him to take up his abode at St. James's. The invitation was accepted, and his majesty in return advised to take his departure from Whitehall. William the Third resided in other palaces; and the only visible part now remaining of the old establishment is the Banqueting-house, which has long been converted into a chapel.

No. VI.

ST. JAMES'S PARK.

N the time of King Henry the Eighth," says a

"IN

note to Dr. King's poems, in Mr. Chalmers's collection, "the park was a wild, wet field; but that prince, on building St. James's Palace, enclosed it, laid it out in walks, and collecting the waters together, gave to the new enclosed ground and new-raised buildings the name of St. James's. It was much enlarged by Charles the Second; who added to it several fields, planted it with rows of

lime trees, laid out the mall, formed the canal with a decoy, and other ponds for water-pool. The lime trees, or tilia, whose blossoms are uncommonly fragrant, were probably planted in consequence of a suggestion of Mr. Evelyn, in his Fumifugium, published in 1661."

Charles the Second was very fond of the Park. His habit of walking there, attended by his dogs, both sad and merry, has been noticed before. His ducks, which he also amused himself with feeding, inhabited a spot called Duck Island, which was erected into a 66 government," in order to furnish the French exile and wit, St. Evremond, with a pension. Birdcage Walk must not be forgotten, which was an aviary of Charles's raising, and retains its appellation. Waller speaks of the improvements of St. James's Park in the gratuitous style of a poet. The libertines of the court were to sport about the canal, like the harmless wantons of a golden age; while Charles walks among the trees in all the dignity of a Numa, and settles the destinies of the world:

"Methinks I see the love that shall be made,
The lovers walking in that amorous shade:
The gallants dancing by the river side;
They bathe in summer, and in winter slide.
Methinks I hear the music in the boats,
And the loud Echo which returns the notes;
While overhead a flock of new-sprung fowl
Hangs in the air, and does the sun control;
Dark'ning the sky, they hover o'er, and shroud
The wanton sailors with a feather'd cloud.
Beneath, a shoal of silver fishes glides,
And plays about the gilded barges' sides:
The ladies angling in the crystal lake,
Feast on the waters with the prey they take ;
At once victorious with their lines and eyes,
They make the fishes and the men their prize."

The vigor with which the king plays at mall is then doted on; and the poet proceeds in some striking verses:

"Near this, my Muse, what most delights her, sees

A living gallery of aged trees;

Bold sons of earth, that thrust their arms so high,

As if once more they would invade the sky.
In such green palaces the first kings reigned,
Slept in their shades, and angels entertained:
With such old counsellors they did advise,
And by frequenting sacred groves grew wise.
Free from the impediments of light and noise,
Man, thus retir'd, his nobler thoughts employs.
Here Charles contrives the ordering of his states,
Here he resolves his neighboring princes' fates:
What nation shall have peace, where war be made,
Determined is in this oraculous shade."

Again, in some verses not so good:
"Here, like the people's pastor, he does go,
His flock subjected to his view below:
On which reflecting in his mighty mind,
No private passion does indulgence find:
The pleasures of his youth suspended are,
And made a sacrifice to public care.
Here, free from court compliances, he walks,
And with himself, his best adviser, talks:
How peaceful olive may his temples shade,
For mending, and for restoring trade:

Or, how his brows may be with laurels charg'd,
For nations conquer'd and our bounds enlarg'd."

Alas, it should have been,

"For pensions taken, and for France enlarg'd."

All that his majesty thought of "in this oraculous shade," was how to pass his time and get money for his pleasures.

"Methinks I see the love that shall be made."

This it was more easy for our grave poet to predicate. The Park is the scene of some of the most libertine

plays of that period. I do not know where the Mulberry Garden stood, which gives a title to one of the comedies of Sedley; perhaps on the site of Spring Garden, which was a place of entertainment up to a late period. The milk fresh from the cow, which is still sold under the trees at the entrance from that quarter, and which has a pleasing effect on emerging from the streets, appears to be a remnant of the former traffic.

Marlborough House, now the residence of Prince Leopold, was one of the national acknowledgments to the Duke of Marlborough. It was built partly in a garden belonging to the queen. Her majesty had thus her defender and her old friend the duchess by her side; and on the other side, in the palace still called by his name, lived her old friend and admirer (who, they say, courted her in his youth,) Sheffield, Duke of Buckingham. He married her sister, natural child of James the Second by the daughter of Sir Charles Sedley. Sheffield built the mansion and laid out the garden. He adorned the four sides of the house with inscriptions, one of which is much to the purpose: "Fastidiosus spectator sibi molestus," "A fastidious spectator is his own annoyance." This is the nobleman of whom the Tatler speaks as the "Duke that lives at Marylebone." A strange story is related in Pennant, of his giving a dinner to "the most infamous sharpers of the time," who gambled at that place, and of a toast with which he concluded it: "May as many of us as remain unhanged next spring, meet here again." "I remember," says Pennant, "the facetious Quin telling this story at Bath, within hearing of the late Lord Chesterfield, when his lord

ship was surrounded by a crowd of worthies of the same stamp with the above." I cannot help thinking that the company was more suited to the author of the Letters than the writer of the Minor Poems. Sheffield is one of the "twinkling stars" in the Miscellanies, and has a lurking goodness in the midst of his libertinism. He has been accused of pride and arrogance; but they say he was amiable in private. His sharping connections do not look like the man of whom his widow speaks so highly in his Remains; but it is astonishing what strange things come together in high life, and with what accommodating philosophy the great regard their own contradictions. The lie on which their pretensions are founded is the cause of it, and renders it in a certain degree excusable. A man cannot well feel that the world would consent to make distinctions that have no real existence, with impunity.

St. James's Palace was built by Henry the Eighth, on the site of an ancient hospital for lepers. The name was the name of the hospital. The palace was fitted up by William for the Princess Anne and her husband, Prince George of Denmark. She retained it as her residence when queen, and it has since been the headquarters of the British Court. Pennant says, that although the outside is unsightly, it is the most convenient palace for regal parade of any in Europe. There were some interesting pictures there in his time, probably still remaining. One of them was "the diminutive Manhood of Geoffrey Hudson." *

* Scott introduced Geoffrey or Jeffrey Hudson into Peveril of the Peak. He also honors the little man with a long note, to which we refer the curious reader. -ED.

« ZurückWeiter »