queen.

We are sorry that Lord Hood, her majesty's only

[7]male attendant to the coronation, did not act a little more as became his duty to his royal mistress on this trying occasion. His lordship offered neither resistance nor remonstrance to the insult of refusing her majesty an admittance to the Abbey; but tamely, not to say cowardly, submitted to it, as he immediately led the queen to her carriage! Yet Lord Hood was a peer! but, gentle reader, he was also a—PENSIONER! We put the question to every honest-hearted Englishman, what force would have dared to oppose the queen's entry into the Abbey, if she had been properly surrounded and attended by her legal advisers and friends? Had such been the case, the "accomplished gentleman" would have met his injured, basely-treated wife, whose gaze must have brought a blush upon his guilty cheek. Such an unexpected visit had been contrary to his royally-fixed determination, as he then would have "met her in public."

The English character has ever been proverbial for morality, gallantry, justice, and humanity; though we cannot help thinking it suffered a little degradation when the queen was refused admittance to the scene of her husband's coronation. This, indeed, is a blot upon the annals of our country, which the stream of time will never be able to wash away. History cannot forget the conduct of the sovereign in this instance, who, when about to enter into a solemn compact with his people, and while calling the Omnipotent God to witness his faith and sincerity, "that he will most truly deal out justice, and love

[8]mercy, in his kingly station," at the same moment refused BOTH to his own wife! Let not such vindictive and disgraceful conduct be forgotten, when the taste and elegant manners of George the Fourth are extolled!

Amongst the gay throng of fawning courtiers that attended this ceremony was the Marquis of Londonderry, whose glittering appendages and costly array were of an unusual quality. Yet, gorgeous as was the sight, the absence of the queen rendered the coronation pomp an uninteresting scene of solemn mockery in its character, and an insulting imposition to the nation, who, while hearing the royal engagements made to them, nationally and individually, saw the first law of nature inverted by the very personage for whom this "mighty show" was designed. But are we not justified in supposing that George the Fourth possessed but a weak understanding, a frail heart, and strong prejudices, and that his judgment was perverted by bad counsel? Had his majesty been a sensible man, he would have perceived that all the advantages of his rank and station were conferred upon him by his fellow-men, and would not have squandered the national wealth upon unworthy characters. The title of king carries no such charm with it as to exempt its possessor from any of those infirmities which are incidental to his species; but he is doomed to drag about with him a frail tenement of clay, sometimes well and sometimes ill shaped, and liable every moment to be dissolved, and reduced to a state of putrefaction, in common with

[9]all those who contribute, by their labour, to its support. But how differently did George the Fourth consider his title and power at this period of his vanity! He concealed, as much as possible, the defects of his nature from "vulgar eyes," by exhibiting himself on a public stage, in borrowed plumes, like the jackdaw in the fable, who astonished his fellow-daws by assuming the gaudy plumage of the peacock. Thousands of weak mortals flocked about the royal actor, and expressed such extreme delight at the pageant scene, that we could hardly wonder to find him and his created nobles so inflated with pride as to consider themselves of a superior nature to the rest of mankind, and to believe that those who so much admired their external appendages were born to be their slaves. We deprecate such grovelling servility in the people as much as we pity the pride of the nobles. As well might a worm or a grub, when decorated with the ephemeral wings of a butterfly, look contemptuously on the crawling snail!

But a few years before the insult was offered to the queen at the coronation, her brother, the Duke of Brunswick, had fallen in the field of battle, while bravely fighting against Napoleon at Waterloo. Her majesty was now, therefore, bereft of every natural connexion, save her vindictive and cruel husband; and history hardly presents a more trying situation than that in which the persecuted and shamefully-treated Queen of England was placed.

The Duke of Newcastle, who distinguished himself

[10]upon the queen's trial, by pronouncing judgment against her majesty without hearing the evidence in her favour, was the boroughmonger selected to bear the "sword of mercy" before the king at the coronation! We ought not, probably, to find fault with the choice of George the Fourth in this instance; as the duke's subsequent acts have proved him so worthy of being the bearer of such an emblem,—to which the people of Newark can fully testify!

Upon her majesty's arrival at Brandenburgh House, after being refused admittance to the coronation, she took a cup of tea, and then retired to her room for nearly four hours. In this interval, the queen resolved to visit Scotland; she wrote to Lord Liverpool upon the subject, and requested his lordship to apprize the king of her intention. This letter was received by his lordship, and answered in the usual strain, "that he (Lord Liverpool) had laid her majesty's letter before the king, but had not received his majesty's commands thereon." In the intermediate time, it was announced, the king would visit Ireland; and his majesty left Carlton House at half-past eleven o'clock, on the 31st of July, on his way to Portsmouth for Dublin.

On the 30th of July, the evening previous to the king's departure, her majesty visited the theatre, and was much indisposed, but would not be persuaded to retire before the performance was concluded; indeed, it was the queen's usual line of conduct not to disturb any public assembly by retiring earlier than was positively needful. Before her

[11]majesty went to the theatre, she felt indisposed, but declined remaining at home, for fear of disappointing the people. When her majesty returned from the theatre, she was very sick, and had much pain in her bowels the next day. In the afternoon of this day, Dr. Holland called, apparently by chance, and, on feeling her pulse, said she must have further advice. She objected, as having most confidence in him, who had travelled with her; but to satisfy his mind, her majesty said he might bring whom he liked. Next day (Wednesday) he brought Dr. Ainslie, who desired to have more assistance called in; and on Thursday morning, Dr. Warren accompanied the other two, both king's physicians, according to etiquette, we believe. Previous to this, she seemed much surprised herself at her illness, and said to Dr. Holland, "DO YOU THINK I AM POISONED?" This day she was told, they hoped things would end well; but if she had any papers of consequence, she had better dispose of them, as, in the event of her decease, every thing must go to the king, or the ministers,—we forget which. At this, she astonished them all by her greatness of mind; for her majesty did not betray the slightest agitation, but immediately and coolly answered—"O yes, I understand you; it shall be done." She