The Press. — 1858-05-08 (London, England)

VIII. of the nineteenth century, without the manly qualities of his prototype of the sixteenth—has great extenuaticns to plead for the excesses of his youthful days. The habits of the time were not in favour of tho quiet and decorum which are indispensable at the present time. Society was then constituted on the principle of the greatest enjoyment with the least restraint. It may perhaps strike an unprejudiced observer that the Prince, entering life towards the end of the last centnry, gifted as he was with remarkable personal advantages and uninterrupted health, showed symptoms of far higher qualities in the choice of his cornpaniona theri his enemies have,beeri willing to admit. Redid not look ronnd the peerage and find ont some dull snd thirsty duke, to make him the comrade of his debauches. Stupid marquises and melding headed earls were passed over with disdain; and people of that elevated rank, in the midst of their senseless orgies, considered that he was addicted to low company. lint it is a curious fact that the want of name and title in most of his familiars was compensated for by wit, and learning, and eloquence. The friendship he always showed for Sheridan proved that he appreciated the areal qualities which almost redeemed that wonderful man from all the failings of which he was the victim. Wherever genius sprang up, especially if it was united with the social qualifications which made the possessor of it an agreeable guest, there was no one so ready As the Prince to recognise it in whatever rank of life it appeared. When Moore came over from Ireland, bewitched everybody with his sweetness of voice and  . Wafts of manner, no time was lost by the heir crown in giving him the entrée to Carlton-house  442  these occasions nothing could be more gracious than the manner of the Prince, nothing more grateful than the feelings of the Poet. The gracious manner remained, but a short time saw the adulation of the songster converted into bitter hostility, his cringing bows into murderous lampoons, even the secrecy which should always keep guard over the hours of unreserved intercourse betrayed, and hospitality and condescension repaid with insolence and invective. The Prince might be bad enough—we do not defend him—but he was not worse than many oth r persons of his time. He had only the misfortune of being placed on such a height that his least proceedings were seen, and at such a distance above the observer that they could not be seen distinctly. But this, at all events, was clear and patent to all, that there was no cordon of exclusiveness drawn round the social circle of the royal reveller. Talent found its way into his private rooms, and such excuse and embellishment as brilliant sayings and intellectual effort could bestow on luscious viands and overflowing cups were not wanting in the symposia for which he was stigmatised. He was not afraid to throw off the armour of his rank, and descend into the arena on equal terms. When he hid Moore at his table, he sang song for song. When Walter Scott, in after years, was a frequent guest at his suppers, he told story for story against the best story-teller of the time, and sometimes left it doubtful which was most successful. As if for the purpose of publicly declaring his respect fur genius, he took an early opportunity, after his accession to the throne, of creating the Scottish poet a baronet. This was perhaps intended, and was felt throughout the country, as a compliment to literature itself. From time immemorial court physicians had achieved that rank, and court surgeons administered the bolus under the cognisance of the bloody hand ; but no novelist, no historian, no writer (as such), had ever been so distinguished.  The conduct of Moore to the King was, indeed, most disgraceful ; but the subject is a melancholy one to dwell upon.