The New era. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1865-1871, 1865-10-05

Where he fought SO bravery, his Inquire IS
absurd-calling out in his broken Eng
fish, and lunging with his rapier, like a
fencing master. ncOntemporary carrie
atures, Georges son, "the Hero OF Gull
loden," is also made an object OF consid-
cradle fun.
[ refrain to quote from Walpoie re-
garding George-for those charming vol
umes are in the hands of all who love
the gossip of the last century. Nothing
can be more CHEEKY than Horace's letters.
lights, fine dresses, fine jokes, fine plate,
fine equipages, glitter and sparkle there:
never was sucha brilliant, juggling, smirlS-
ing Vanity Fair as that through which
he leads us. Hervey, the next great
authority, is a darker spirit. About him
there is something frightful: a few years
since his heirs opened the lid Of the lex
worth box; it was as if a Pompeii was
opened IS us-the last century dug up,
with its temples and it's games, its char
lots, its public places-lupanaria. Wan
dering through that city of the dead,
that dreadfuily selfish time, through
those goddess intrigues and feasts, thro'
those crowds, pushing, and eager, and
ling-rouged, and lying, and fawn-
ing-l have wanted some one to be friends
with. | have said to friends conversant
with that history, "Show me some good
person about that court; find me, among
those selfish courtiers, those disseiute,
gay people, some one being that | can
love and regard. There is that strutting
hunchbaclled, beetle-broWed Lord Ches
terrified; there is John Hervey, with his
deadly smile, and CHASTITY, painted face
i hate them. There is Hoadly, Grim
ging from one bishopric to another;
yonder comes little Mr.. Pope, from
TwielSenham, with his friend, the Irish
dean, in his new cassOck, bowling too,
but with rage flashing from under his
bushy eyebrows, and scorn and hate
quivering in his smile. Can you be fond
Of these? OF Pope | MIGHT; at least |
might love his genius, his wit, his Great
ness, his sensibility-with certain con-
viction that at some faneied slight, some
sheer which he imagined, he would turn
upon me and stab me. Can you trust
the queeno She is not of our order;
their very position makes kings and
queens lonely. One inscrutable attach
ment this inscrutable woman has. To
that she is faithful, through all trial, me-
she really cares for no created being
She is good enough to her children, and
even fond enough of them: but she would
chop themall upintolittle pieces to please
him. In her intercourse with all around
her, she was perfectly kind, gracious,
and natural: but friends may die, daugh-
tiers may depart, she will be as kind and
gracious to the next set. II the king
wants her, she will smile upon him, be
she ever so sad and walk with him, be
she ever so weary; and laugh at his bru
tai jokes, be she in ever so much pain Of
body or heart. Caroline's devotion to
her husband is a prodigy to read Of
What charm had the little man? What
was there in those wonderful letters of
thirty pages long, which he wrote to her
Whenhe was absent, and to his mistresses
at Hanover, when he was i'll London
most lovely and accomplished princess
OF Germany, take little red-faced star
ing princeling for husband, and refuse
an emperor? Why, to her last hour,
did she love him so? She killed herself
because she loved him so. She had the
govt, and would plunge her feet in cold
water in order to walk with him. With
the film of death over her eyes, writhing
in intolerable pain, she yet had Il livid
smile and gentle word for her master.
You have read the wonderful history OF
that death-bed? How she babe him
marry again, and the reply the old king
blubbered out, mon, non: j'dUai des
mattresses" There never was such a
CHASTITY farce. / watch the astonishing
scene-I stand by that awful bedside,
wondering at the ways in which God
has ordained the lives, loves, rewards,
successes, passions, actions, ends Of his
creatures-and can't but laugh, in the
presence of death, snd with the saddest
heart. In that often-quoted passage
from Lord Hervey, in which the queens
death-bed is described, the grotesque
horror of the details surpasses all satire:
the dreadful humor of the scene is mere
terrible than Swift's blacklist pages, or
Fielding's fiercest irony. The man who
wrote the story had something diabol-
ical about him: the terrible verses which
Pope wrote respecting Hervey, in one OF
his own moods of almost fiendish ma
lightly, / fear are true. am frightened
as 1 look back into the past, and fancy
behold that CHASTITY, beautiful face; as /