March 1, 1888.] 



♦ KNOVSTLKDGE ♦ 



105 



into dismal decay, while the grounds have, through years of 

 neglect, become a tangle and labyrinth of shrubs and vines, 

 like to the magic-guarded gardens of the Sleeping Beauty. 

 Indeed, so rank is the growth of untended flowers, fast 

 relapsing into primitive barbarism, so insolent the spread of 

 weeds, so still and slumberous the atmosphere of this 

 enchanted bit of the past, standing at bay against the 

 mighty roar of the fast-advancing town, that one could 

 easily fiincy Nell yet in her quaint bedchamber, sunk in her 

 prolonged beautj'-sleep, but, perhaps, just ready to wake, 

 take a bath in her shallow marble tub, array herself in rich 

 stuffs and colours, just come again into fashion after two 

 centuries, and start out on a new career of conquest. The 

 court proper, or the proper court, would not receive her, 

 nor even the demi-court of the heir- apparent, openly ; but 

 the stage would be more than ever open to her. She would 

 probably come to 



the West, 



To dazzle when the sun is down, 



And rob the world of rest, 



revel in Republican homage, and roll in " greenbacks," like 

 to other pretty favourites of princes. 



The Merry ilonarch was very fond of this Highgate place 

 — pleasant and cosy, but never luxurious — and with it is 

 connected a significant little story. One morning, as Charles 

 was strolling up and down the brick- paved terrace, with his 

 usual bodyguard of little long-eared spaniels, INIistrtss 

 Eleanor Gwynn appeared at her chamber window, holding 

 in her white, dimpled arms a pretty baby, who much 

 resembled the King — 



With the self-same eyes and hair. 



More than once the proud mother had solicited for him a 

 ducal title and estates to support it, but her liege had put 

 her off, fearful of establi.-^hing a precedent which might stain 

 the royal prerogative and exhaust the royal treasury. Now, 

 looking down from the window, and holding forward the 

 child, she cried, " A title, your Majesty, or out goes the 

 brat ! " 



The indolent King was alarmed for his beautiful boy, and 

 instantly exclaimed, " Save the Duke of St. Albans 1 " 



Some of England's noblest titles and estates have had 

 their origin in some such ignoble way, and date directly 

 back to honours and rewards bestowed by profligate kings 

 and princes on low-born courtesans and their " brats." The 

 blue blood of Britain is not altogether cerulean, but has now 

 and then a very earthly tinge. The scandals which so 

 frequently disgrace the highest English society and shock 

 the world are outbreaks of the cancerous corruption of past 

 generations. Yet the royalty of to-day, not only of England, 

 but of Continental kingdoms, is certainly more decent and 

 decorous than that of less than a century ago — if it is not 

 absolutely more virtuous. In England this improvement is, 

 of course, largely due to the example of the " virtuou.sest, 

 discreetest, best " of Queens. Her Uncle William had his 

 palace well stocked with and his Ci\dl List well burdened 

 for his natural children ; her Uncle George was, as all the 

 world knows, the greatest of royal voluptuaries and liber- 

 tines, and even her venerable grandpapa had in his }-outh 

 his princely peccadillos. It is, perhaps, an open question 

 whether the royal and ducal folk of old times, who hand- 

 somely provided for their mistresses and boldly acknow- 

 ledged and ennobled their illegitimate children, were more 

 immoral than those of our day, who conceal irregular rela- 

 tions and ignore their unhappy consequences ; but about the 

 honesty and manliness of the two courses there can be no 

 question. It may be that the gi-owing restiveness of that 

 once stupid animal, the taxpayer, has something to do with 

 the decrease of royal profligacy. 



Seen under the white light of absolute morality, I cannot 

 claim that the daily walk and conversation of the popular 

 Prince of Wales presents a loftj' example to high P^nglish 

 society, 3-et I do not believe him the Don Giovanni or Sar- 

 danapalus he has been represented. He possesses too genial, 

 kindly, and frank a nature and too much good sense to 

 attempt a prince regent role ; that is played out. And 

 then he is too busy with bridge and park openings, and 

 exhibition inauguratings ; he is whirled from banquet to 

 banquet, from chair to chair ; he is waltzed through gal- 

 leries, is called to wrestle with Albert monuments and 

 statues and multitudinous busts. It seems to be the policy 

 of the Queen and her advisers to keep the royal family " to 

 the fore," to have not only the Prince of Wales, but all his 

 brothers and sisters, nephews and nieces, act up to the 

 " Ich dien " motto — serving the people in all proper cere- 

 monial ways — and the people work them well. Last sum- 

 mer the three-year-old Duke of Albany actually laid the 

 foundation of a public building, and did his "level best" 

 with his little trowel to prove to British taxpayers that 

 they were getting their money's worth out of the Guelphs. 



Unquestionably the English royal family of today is an 

 improvement on that with which the century opened. On 

 the morals of the sons and daughters of George III. history 

 is reticent, and will be during the life of the good Queen ; 

 but I am afraid that there was scarce a man or woman of the 

 whole big family whose character should be discussed except 

 in camerd. Albert Edward is like to the long run of Princes 

 of Wales since Edward, born at Carnarvon ; there has 

 probably not been a Joseph among them ; but no great 

 scandal has attached to the lives of the Queen's other sons. 

 The Duke of Edinburgh is said to be too parsimonious to 

 be profligate, while the Duke of Connaught is too domestic 

 — too like his father. Oddly enough, the only exception I 

 remember was in the case of the late Duke of Albany — 

 reverenced by loyal English people as a saint and by his 

 elder brother's gay associates pronounced " a muff." It was 

 whispered that he had in the sunny South a questionable 

 and sad little romance, and that it had to do with his 

 untimely and sudden death. But I don't believe it. No 

 Guelph ever committed suicide 



Leaving aside the deeper question of personal morality, 

 the most serious lacking in the character of the Prince of 

 Wales is the lack of seriousness. He is a man who, of all 

 things, loves to be amused, and who is not overscrupulous 

 as to who or what amuses him. In his visits to Paris he 

 frequents the Palais Royal and Opera Bouffe, and between 

 the acts drops into the loyes of the prettiest and gayest of 

 the artistes. This habit is S3 notorious that Zola did not 

 hesitate to put him into the dressing-room of his teautiful 

 and terrible " Nana." In Loudon comic actors, singers, and 

 personators, all sorts of '' funny men," and bright, original, 

 witty women are sure of his gracious patronage. He finds 

 high tragedy, even when superbly presented, as at the 

 Lyceum, " slow," and classical German music — even the 

 compositions of his lamented father— a bore ; while, when 

 he goes to grand opera, he generally goes to sleep. He is 

 royally fond of good living, the turf, and all sorts of sports; 

 is a great slaughterer of pigeons, and once shot a corralled 

 elephant. He has a quick eye, and a passionate admiration 

 for beauty. He entertains munificently, but his guests, 

 even when foreign princes, are geneially respectable people. 

 The clever men and pretty women of inferior station, or no 

 station at all, whose acquaintance he wishes to mnke, he 

 manages to have invited to the house of some obliging 

 friend, where he meets them. ()ne of the best things I 

 know of him is his hearty liking — something as near friend- 

 ship as a prince is capable of — for certain beautiful country- 

 women of ours, whom he has felt compelled to respect. I 



