The Project Gutenberg eBook ofThe Queen's Matrimonial LadderThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.Title: The Queen's Matrimonial LadderAuthor: William HoneIllustrator: George CruikshankRelease date: January 14, 2014 [eBook #21565]Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by David Widger from page scans obtained from theInternet Archive*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE QUEEN'S MATRIMONIAL LADDER ***
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.
Title: The Queen's Matrimonial LadderAuthor: William HoneIllustrator: George CruikshankRelease date: January 14, 2014 [eBook #21565]Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by David Widger from page scans obtained from theInternet Archive
Title: The Queen's Matrimonial Ladder
Author: William HoneIllustrator: George Cruikshank
Author: William Hone
Illustrator: George Cruikshank
Release date: January 14, 2014 [eBook #21565]
Language: English
Credits: Produced by David Widger from page scans obtained from theInternet Archive
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE QUEEN'S MATRIMONIAL LADDER ***
"The question is not merely whether the Queen shall have herrights, but whether the rights of an individual in thekingdom shall be free from violation."Her Majesty's Answer to the Norwich Addrest."Here is a Gentleman, and a friend of mine!"Measure for Measure.
"The question is not merely whether the Queen shall have herrights, but whether the rights of an individual in thekingdom shall be free from violation."Her Majesty's Answer to the Norwich Addrest."Here is a Gentleman, and a friend of mine!"Measure for Measure.
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"It is a wonderful thing to consider the strength ofPrinces' wills when they are bent to have their Pleasurefulfilled, wherein no reasonable persuasions will servetheir turn: how little do they regard the dangerous sequels,that ensue as well as to themselves as to their Subjects.And amongst all things there is nothing that makes themmore wilful than Carnal Love, and various affecting ofVoluptuous desires."Cavendish's Memoirs of Card. Wolsey.
"It is a wonderful thing to consider the strength ofPrinces' wills when they are bent to have their Pleasurefulfilled, wherein no reasonable persuasions will servetheir turn: how little do they regard the dangerous sequels,that ensue as well as to themselves as to their Subjects.And amongst all things there is nothing that makes themmore wilful than Carnal Love, and various affecting ofVoluptuous desires."Cavendish's Memoirs of Card. Wolsey.
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CONTENTS
QUALIFICATION.
DECLARATION.
ACCEPTATION.
ALTERATION.
IMPUTATION.
EXCULPATION.
EMIGRATION.
REMIGRATION.
CONSTERNATION.
ACCUSATION.
PUBLICATION.
INDIGNATION
CORONATION.
DEGRADATION.
THE JOSS AND HIS FOLLY,
In love, and in drink, and o'ertoppled by debt;With women, with wine, and with duns on the fret.
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The Prodigal Son, by his perils surrounded,Vex'd, harass'd, bewilder'd, asham'd, and confounded,Fled for help to his Father,confessed his ill doing,And begged for salvationfrom stark staring ruin;The sire urged—"The Peopleyour debts have twice paid,And, to ask a third time,even Pitt is afraid;"But he shall if you'll marry, and lead a new life,—"You've a cousin in Germany—make her yourwife!"
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From the high halls of Brunswick, all youthful andgay,From the hearth of her fathers, he lured her away:How joy'd she in coming—how smiling the bower;How sparkling their nuptials—how welcome her dower.Ah! short were her pleasures—full soon came hercares—Her husbandless bride-bed was wash'd with hertears.
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Near a million of debts gone,all gone were her charms—What! an Epicure have his own wifein his arms?She was not to his taste—what car'dhefor the 'form,''To love and to cherish'could not mean reform:'To love' meant, of course, nothing elsebut neglect'To cherish' to leave her,and shew disrespect.
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Was it manly, when widow'd,to spy at her actions;"To listen to eaves-droppers,whisp'ring detractions;And, like an old Watchman,with faults to conceal,Get up afalse Charge,as a proof of his zeal?If desertion was base, Oh base be his name,Who, having deserted, would bring her to shame!
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Undaunted in spirit, her courage arose,With encrease of charges, and encrease of foes.Despising the husband,who thus had abused her,She proved to his father,his son had ill used her:—Her conduct examin'd, and sifted, shone bright,Her enemies fled, as the shadows of night.
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Her father and king, while with reason yet blest,Protected her weakness, and shielded her rest;Infirmity seizes him, false friends draw near,Then spies gather round, and malignants appear;And cajole, wait, watch, insult,alarm, and betray,Till from home, and her daughter,they force her away.
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Still pursued, when a 'wanderer,'her child sleeps in death,And her best friend, in England, her king,yields his breath;This gives her new rights—they neglect and proscribe her;She threatens returning—they then try to bribe her!The bullies turn slaves, and, in meanness, fawn on her:They feel her contempt, and they vow her dishonour;But she 'steers her own course,' comes indignantlyover,And the shouts of the nation salute her at Dover!
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Ah, what was that groan!—'twas the Head of the Church,When he found she was come—for he dreaded a searchInto whathe'd been doing:and sorely afraid, forWhatshemight find out,cried 'I'll not have her pray'd for';And the B———ps, obeying theirpiousHead,care tookThat the name of his wifeshould be out of the prayer book!
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On searching for precedents, much to their dread,They found that they could n't well cut off her head;
And the 'House of Incurables' raised a 'Report'She was not a fit person to live inhisCourt.How like an OLD CHARLEYthey then made him stand,In his lanthorn aleech,the 'Report' in his hand.'Good folks be so good as not go near that door'For, though my own wife, sheis—I could say more'But it's all in thisBag, and there'll be a fine pother,'I shall get rid of her, and I'll then get another!'Yet he thought, to himself,—'twas a thought most distressing,—'Ifsheshould discoverI've been M—ch—ss—g,'There's an end of the whole!D—rs C—ns, of course,'If my ownhands are dirty,won't grant a D———ce!'He tried to look wise, but he only look'd wild;The women laugh'd out, and the grave even smiled;The old frown'd upon him—the children made sport,And his wife held herridiculeat his 'Report'!MORAL.Be warn'd, by his fateMarried, single, and all;Ye elderly Gentlemen,Pity his fall!
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As yon bright orb, that vivifies our ball,Sees through our system, and illumines all;
So, sees and shines, ourMoralSun,The Press,Alike to vivify the mind, and bless;Sees the ratLeechturn towards Milan's walls,'Till the black slime betrays him as he crawls;Sees, from that recreant, vile, and eunuch-land,Where felon-perjurers hold their market-stand,Cooke, with his 'cheek of parchment, eye of stone,'Get up the evidence, to go well down;Sees who, with eager hands, the Green Bag cram,And warns the nation of the frightful flam;Sees Him, for whom they work the treacheroustask,With face, scarce half conceal'd, behind their mask.Fat, fifty-eight, and frisky, still a beau,Grasping a half-made match; byLeech-light go;Led by a passion, prurient, blind, and letter'd,Lame, bloated, pointless, flameless, age'd andshatter'd;Creeping, like Guy Fawkes, to blow up his wife,Whom, spurn'd in youth, he dogs through after-life.Scorn'd, exiled, baffled, goaded in distress,She owes her safety to a fearless Press:With all the freedom that it makes its own,It guards, alike, the people and their throne;While fools with darkling eye-balls shun its gaze,And soaring villains scorch beneath its blaze.
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The day will soon come, when the Judge and thePonderer,'Will judge between thee, and the charge-daring'Wanderer;'Will say—'Thou who cast the first stone at thy wife,Art thou without sin, and is spotlessthylife?'Ah! what ifthyfaults should 'outrival the sloe,'And thy wife's, beside thine, should look 'whiterthan snow'!Bethink thee! the old British Lion awoke,Turns indignant, and treads out thy bag-full of smoke.Spurn thy minions—the traitors, who counsel thee,banish;And the soldiers will quickly forget all theirSpanish!
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Shakspeare says, in King John, it's a curse mostabhorrent,That 'Slavestake the humours of Kings for a warrant.'A moreusefultruth never fell from his pen,If Kings would apply it like sober-bred men.The Slaves ofyourwill,will make your reign, in History,A misrule of force, folly, taxing, and mystery:Indulging your wish forwhat, with law, 's incompatible,For the present, they've render'd your crownnot come-at-able;And the tongues of old women and infancy wag,With, 'He call'd for his crown—andthey gave him theBag!'
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To this have they brought thee, at last!
Exposed thee, for all men to see!Ah, surely, their panderingshall quickly be past:'How wretched their portionshall be!Derision shall strike themforlorn,'A mockery that never shall die:'The curses of hate and the hissesof scorn,'Shall follow wherever they fly;'And proud o'er their ruinfor ever be hurl'd,'The laughter of triumph,the jeers of the world!'
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An Extract of an overland, Dispatch.I stare at it from out my casement,And ask for what is such a place meant.Byron.July 29, 1820.
—The queerest of all the queer sightsI've set sight on;—Is, thewhat d'ye-call-t thing, here,THE FOLLY at Brighton
The outside—huge teapots,all drill'd round with holes,Relieved by extinguishers,sticking on poles:The inside—all tea-things,and dragons, and bells, tThe show rooms—allshow,the sleeping rooms—cells.But thegrandCuriosity's not to be seen—The owner himself—an old fatMandarin;A patron of painterswho copy designs,That grocers and tea-dealershang up for signs:Hence teaboard-taste artistsgain rewards and distinction,Hence his title of 'Teapot'shall last to extinction.I saw his great chairinto which he falls—soss—And sits, in hisChina Shop,like a large Joss;His mannikins round him,in tea-tray array,His pea-hens beside him,to make him seem gay.
It is said when he sleepson his state Eider-down,And thinks on his Wife,and abouthalfa Crown;That he wakes from these horrible dreamsin a stew;And that, stretching his arms out,he screams, Mrs. Q!He's cool'd on the M—ch-ss,but I'm your debtorFor further particulars—in a C letter.You must know that he hateshis ownwife,to a failing;—And it 's thought, it's to shun her,he's now gone outSAILING.
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