all the poems that delight our infancy, there is no one perhaps which makes a more lasting impression on the memory and the imagination, than the preceding. The name of its author is lost in the shades of remote antiquity; and even the century when it first made its appearance, has eluded the vigilance of antiquarian research. Before entering upon its poetical merits, we must observe a striking peculiarity in the diction: there is not a single word in it, but that is of Anglo-Saxon origin, so that it may be considered as an admirable specimen of pure English, and as calculated to inspire the infant mind with a distaste for the numerous exotic terms, which, in the present age, disfigure our language. It has been well remarked in the review of that ancient poem, Jack and Jill, that the reader's interest in the hero and heroine is not divided with subordinate characters. But the poem of Jack Horner possesses this excellence in a more eminent degree; in the former the interest, is divided between two, in the latter it is concentrated in one; and, notwithstanding the ingenuity of the reviewer, it must be confessed that so little is indicated by the poet, as to the character of Jack and Jill, that we feel no more interest in their fate, tragical as it is, than if they were designated by the letters X and Y of algebraical notoriety; or by the names of those personages, who figure in legal fictions, John Doe and Richard Roe.
Not so with Jack Horner: the very incident recorded in the first line lets us into his character; he is evidently a lover of solitude and of solitary contemplation. He is not, however, a gloomy ascetic; he takes into his corner a Christmas pie, and, while he leisurely gratifies his palate, his mind feasts on the higher luxury of an approving conscience. It has been said that the man who loves solitude must be either an angel or a demon. Horner had more of the former in his composition; he retired from the busy haunts of his playmates not to meditate mischief, but to feast upon the pie, which had probably been given him as a reward for his good conduct, and indulge in the delightful thoughts to which the consciousness of deserving it gave rise. But here it may be objected, why instead of eating his pie in a corner, did he not share it with his companions? The remark is pertinent, but the circumstance only evinces the admirable management of the poet; to represent his hero without a defect would be to outrage nature, and to render imitation hopeless. Horner, it must be admitted, with all his excellence, was too fond of good eating; it is in vain to deny it; his deliberately pulling out a plum with his finger and thumb, shows the epicure, not excited by the voracity of hunger, but evidently aiming to protract his enjoyment. The exclamation which follows savours of vanity; but when his youth is recollected, this will be deemed a venial error, and it must also be considered that his few faults were probably compensated by a constellation of excellencies. This poem has been imitated, (I will not say successfully, for its beautiful simplicity is in fact inimitable,) by one of the greatest statesmen and classical scholars of the present century, Mr. Canning; and it is melancholy to reflect that, while a monument is erecting to the memory of the latter and his name lives in the mouths of men, all traces of that original poet, whose inspirations he sought to imitate, are entirely lost. The lines of Mr. Canning are to be found in his "Loves of the Triangles:"
Thus youthful Homer rolled the roguish eye.
Culled the dark plum from out the Christmas pie,
And cried in self applause, how good a boy am I.
ANECDOTE GALLERY
GEORGE THE FIRST
Previously to the King's arrival in this country, a proclamation had been issued, offering, in case the Pretender should land in any part of the British isles, the sum of 100,000l. for his apprehension. At the first masquerade which the King attended in this country, an unknown lady, in a domino, invited him to drink a glass of wine at one of the side-tables; he readily assented, and the lady filling a bumper, said, "Here, mask, the Pretender's health."—Then filling another glass, she presented it to the King, who received it with a smile, saying, "I drink, with all my heart, to the health of every unfortunate prince."
The person of the King, says Walpole, is as perfect in my memory as if I saw him but yesterday: it was that of an elderly man, rather pale, and exactly like his pictures and coins; not tall, of an aspect rather good than august, with a dark tie wig, a plain coat, waistcoat and breeches, of snuff-coloured cloth, with stockings of the same colour, and a blue riband over all.
He often dined, after shooting, at Sir Robert Walpole's house on Richmond Hill; where he indulged his partiality for punch to such an extent, that the Duchess of Kendal enjoined the Germans who usually accompanied him, to restrain him from drinking too much: but they went about their task with so little address, that the King took offence, and silenced them by the coarsest epithets in their mother tongue.
He appears to have entertained a very low opinion of the political integrity of his courtiers, and the honesty of his household. He laughed at the complaints made by Sir Robert Walpole against the Hanoverians, for selling places; and would not believe that the custom was not sanctioned by his English advisers and attendants. Soon after his first arrival in this country, a favourite cook, whom he had brought from Hanover grew melancholy, and wanted to return home. The King having inquired why he wanted to quit his household, the fellow replied, "I have long served your Majesty honestly, not suffering any thing to be embezzled in your kitchen; but here, the dishes no sooner come from your table, than one steals a fowl, another a pig, a third a joint of meat, a fourth a pie, and so on, till the whole is gone; and I cannot bear to see your Majesty so injured!" The King, laughing heartily, said, "My revenues here enable me to bear these things; and, to reconcile you to your place, do you steal like the rest, and mind you take enough." The cook followed this advice, and soon became a very expert thief.
Toland says, in a pamphlet published about the year 1705, I need give no more particular proof of the King's frugality in laying out the public money, than that all the expenses of his court, as to eating, drinking, fire, candles, and the like, are duly paid every Saturday night; the officers of his army receive their pay every month, and all the civil list are cleared every half year. He was greatly annoyed by the want of confidence in his economy, displayed by his British subjects; lamenting to his private friends that he had left his electorate to become a begging King; and adding, that he thought it very hard to be constantly opposed in his application for supplies, which it was his intention to employ for the benefit of the nation.
The account of the death of George the First was first brought to Walpole, in a dispatch from Townshend, who had accompanied that monarch to the continent. The minister instantly repaired to the palace at Richmond. The new King had then retired to take his usual afternoon nap. On being informed that his father was dead, he could scarcely be brought to put faith in the intelligence, until told that the minister was waiting in the ante-chamber with Lord Townshend's despatch. At length, he received Walpole, who, kneeling, kissed his hand, and inquired whom he would please to appoint to draw up the address to the Privy Council. "Sir Spencer Compton," replied the King, an answer which signified Sir Robert's dismissal.
DEATH OF QUEEN CAROLINE
When very near her end, she inquired of one of the physicians in attendance, "How long can this last?" "Your Majesty will soon be eased of your pains," was the reply. "The sooner the better," said the Queen: and she then most fervently engaged in extempore prayer. Shortly afterwards, she twice desired that cold water might be thrown over her, to support her strength, while her family put up a final petition in her behalf. "Pray aloud," said she, "that I may hear you." She then faintly joined them in repeating the Lord's prayer; and, at its conclusion, calmly laid down, waved her hand, and expired.
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