p>The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction / Volume 19, No. 551, June 9, 1832
MONKEY ISLAND
This picturesque spot is situate in the middle of the river Thames, near Cliefden, Bucks,1 and about three-quarters of a mile from the village of Bray.2 It was purchased and decorated for the enjoyment of fishing parties by the third Duke of Marlborough. Upon its fine sward he erected a small rustic building called Monkey Hall, from the embellishments of the interior being in part fancifully painted with a number of monkeys dressed in human apparel, and imitating human actions. Some are represented diverting themselves with fishing, others with hunting, &c. One is drawn gravely sitting in a boat, smoking, while a female "waterman" is labouring at the oar, rowing him across a river. The ceiling and cornices are ornamented with aquatic plants and flowers. In another building, raised at the expense of the Duke, on this island, and named the Temple, is an elegant saloon, painted with green and gold, and enriched with figures in stucco-work superbly gilt, representing mermaids, sea-lions, fish, shells, and other objects. The place altogether might be called Marlborough's Folly.
The perfection of the monkey embellishments would delight the admirers of Mr. Landseer's famed Monkeyana.
Monkey Island has had several owners since the Duke of Marlborough disposed of it: the lease of the place at £25l. a-year was, in 1787, purchased for 240 guineas, by Henry Townley Ward, Esq. who bequeathed it to P.C. Bruce, Esq., of Taplow. Its vicinity to "Cliefden's hanging woods" and picturesque home scenery must render it a delightful retreat.
Its establishment is stated to have cost the Duke of Marlborough ten thousand guineas.
SONG,
There once was a King, as they say,
Though history says naught about it,
Who slept sound by night and by day,
And for glory—who just did without it;
A night cap his diadem was,
Which his maid used to air at the fire,
And then put it on him, (that's poz:)
Such was his Coronation attire.
CHORUS.
"Lack-a-day, well-a-day!" then let us sing,
And mourn for the loss of this good little King.
In a cottage his banquets were given,
He lived upon four meals a-day, sir,
On which diet he seems to have thriven:
And an ass was his charger they say, sir,
A dog was his life-guard, we're told,
And many a peregrination
Thus attended, he must have been bold,
He made step and step through the nation.
CHORUS.
"Lack-a-day, well-a-day!" then let us sing,
And mourn for the loss of this good little King.
His taste, for a monarch, was queer,
But his motto was "live and let live, sir,"
He was thirsty, and fond of good beer,
Which his subjects were happy to give, sir;
He levied his taxes himself,
A quart or a pint for his dinner,
No exciseman went snacks in the pelf,
No clerks had this jolly old sinner.
CHORUS.
"Lack-a-day, well-a-day!" then let us sing,
And mourn for the loss of this good little King.
Except just by way of a lark,
His militia he never would call out,
He then made them shoot at a mark
Till they had shot all their powder and ball out.
CHORUS.
"Lack-a-day, well-a-day!" then let us sing,
And mourn for the loss of this good little King.
To his neighbours he always was kind,
He never extended his boundaries,
For disputes and contentions, I find,
He never saw any just ground arise:
Pleasure's code being his statute law
He ne'er caused a tear to be shed, sir,
Though I swear not a dry eye I saw,
When his subjects first heard he was dead, sir.
CHORUS.
"Lack-a-day, well-a-day!" well might they sing,
When they mourned the sad loss of their good little King.
His portrait you must have observed,
In remarkably good preservation,
For his eminent virtues deserved
You'll allow, a conspicuous station:
"The King's Head" still continues his name,
Where full often the people on holidays
As they tipple, still talk of his name,
In lamenting the end of his jolly days.
CHORUS.
"Lack a-day, well-a-day!" thus do they sing.
And mourn for the loss of their good little King.
TO A LADY WHO SAID SHE WAS THE SAME AGE AS HIMSELF
Our ages are the same, you say,
But know that love believes it not;
The Fates, a wager I would lay,
Our tangled threads shared out by lot;
What part to each they did assign
The world, fair dame, can plainly see;
The Spring and Summer days were thine,
Autumn and Winter came to me.
ENGLISH BALLAD SINGING
The minstrels were once a great and flourishing body in England; but their dignity being interwoven with the illusory splendour of feudal institutions, declined on the advance of moral cultivation: they became in time vulgar mountebanks and jugglers, and in the reign of Elizabeth were suppressed as rogues and vagabonds. Banished from the highways they betook themselves to alehouses—followed the trade of pipers and fiddlers—and minstrelsy was no longer known in England.
The suppression of "the order" of minstrels, gave rise to that of the Ballad-singers, who relied upon the quality of their voices for success. The subjects of many of the songs handed down by the minstrels were still held in honour by the ballad-singers. The feats of "Elym of the Clough," "Randle of Chester," and "Sir Topaz," which had faded under the kind keeping of the minstrels, were now refreshed and brought more boldly in the new version before the sense. Robin Hood and Friar Tuck had their honours enlarged by the new dynasty; more maidens
For a View and Description of Cliefden, see
For a View of Bray Church, see
