Coronation of King James the Second and Queen Mary Beatrir.

IN

"Noble-hearted English boys,
Fill the air with musick noise,
James the fountain of our joys,

the Nation's sole defender:
He's the Monarch of the Land,
We'll obey his great Command;
Tis but Duty, heart and hand,
when we do all surrender.

-England's Royal Renown in the Coronation.

N the Bagford Collection of broadside Ballads (II. 169 verso) is preserved a probably unique illustrated Loyal Song on "the Coronation of our gracious King James the Second, and his Royal Consort Queen Mary, which was accordingly celebrated in a most glorious splendor, on the 23rd of April, 1685." It was sung to the tune of Hark! the thund'ring cannons roar (D'Urfey's "Carouse to the Emperor," for which see p. 366: it was also printed "Hark! I hear the cannons roar." Jonah Deacon was the printer). We have already given the song complete in our Bagford Ballads, pp. 590 to 595 inclusive, with introduction, notes, and the four woodcuts; also the important passage from Lord Macaulay's History of England, chapter iv., concerning the mingling of parsimony and profuseness displayed by James at his coronation. The first verse and title of the Bagford Ballad form our present motto.

If complaint had been made of niggardliness and economy in Denmark, marking the haste with which "the funeral baked meats did coldly furnish forth the wedding feast," there were not lacking in England objectors who declared that a more lavish expenditure ought to have been made, both for the removal of the body of the late King, and also for the public celebration of his brother's Coronation. The giddy multitude, who delight in shows that cost them nothing beyond the loss of a day's earnings, are certain to become discontented on detecting any curtailment of external decoration. Processions through the streets and on the river, discharge of ordnance in Salutes of Honour, feasts and balls which they can only hear about, or catch some glimpse of the rich garments as guests are borne past in their carriages and received at the portals, all have a certain value in allaying that dangerous discontent, which begins in selfish grumbling but soon turns to sedition or rebellion.

There are several poems descriptive of the Coronation, written by such versifiers as were ready to affect enthusiastic delight when they beheld what others deemed a niggardly festival. One of these Loyal Poems, in our own possession, begins thus ambitiously:

Description of King James II.'s Coronation.

Y ravished Muse in such bright mazes dance,

MY

So rapture-struck, and all dissolv'd in Trance,

That I her pencil but in vain provoke

To shadow out the Visionary stroak.

539

But we have to struggle through much tedious verbiage about Guardian Angels, Eolus, Bounteous Nature, the Royal pair James and Mary, "She as a Goddess, He so like a God!" with mention of Orphean Grove, and Thames discoursing loyally concerning his preference of the new monarchs to Neptune or Thetis. All this was no doubt proper, but is certainly wearisome, and keeps us from the contemporary "Description of the Coronation :

Such numerous crowds both far and near were seen,
That streets seem'd pav'd, and houses tyl'd with men;
Chequer'd with the Fair Sex, appear'd more bright,
Who with hard gazing fed their eager sight,

Then sigh'd and wish'd, and did the rest in dreams at night.
So closely prest, they did one mass appear,

But, when bright James and his fair Queen drew near,
The mighty bulk did its own self divide,

And made a Golden Wall on either side;

Through which they to the Prince's Chamber past,

To take repose, for Goodness' self must rest:

Where having had some short Refection,

And glorious proper Robes of State put on,

In the Abbey now, where Pomp and Tryumph waits,
Behold the Royal God-like CANDIDATES!

Where, after numerous Ceremonies past,

Of Unction, Oaths, which several hours did last,

Their Sacred Heads receiv'd th' Imperial Crown,

150

By CANTERBURY'S happy hand set on.

Blest Man! what bliss hast thou receiv'd this hour,

[Sancroft.

What could'st thou wish, or could Heav'n give thee more?

Th' exact description of the Cavalcade,

And the bright figures ev'ry Order made;

What hands the Scepter, Sword, Staff, Orb did wear,

Or who Curtana, or the Spurs did bear; 1
Or by what Peers the Crowns supported were;
What Favourites next the Presence did remain,
Or what bright Youths bore up the Royal Train;
How from the Temple to the Hall they pas'd,
(Where waited for them a stupendous Feast,)
What Hecatomb fell victims to their board,
Or what vast Seas of Wine it did afford;
And lastly, how with the vast infinite Train

They to White-Hall, now Crown'd, return'd again,
Are Themes that would a mighty Volume ask:

Nor is 't a Poet's, but the Herald's task.
Besides it would more charge of time require,
Than now my niggard Fate is pleas'd to spare.

175

1 Curtana is the edgeless Sword of Mercy, said to have belonged to King

Edward the Confessor, carried at the successive Coronations.

540 "Ten thousand Bells in one loud consort joyn!"

Not that he is going to let us escape altogether, for he is most willing to tell of the mob, the bone-fire like burning groves, the rockets and floating combustibles on the Thames. These we might endure and survive, but, Oh! ye Gods and little fishes (there were fishes, if no Heathen Gods, peopling the silver Thames in April, 1685), what awful sensations are given by the Poet's declaration that "Ten thousand Bells in one loud consort joyn!

But having yet survey'd the Court alone,

I now would make the People's transports known;
But I, alas! want Language to express my own.
Ten thousand Bells in one loud Consort joyn
Both Earth and Heaven it self to entertain:
Sure for this Reason they were rais'd on High,
That th' Gods might better hear this Harmony!
The pleasant Musick's nimble foot-steps hear,
Passing Harmoniously from Sphere to Sphere!
Which now the Starry Battlements has found,

Which, Hark! reverberates and multiplies the sound!
They Man's Officious, and Injurious call,

Who interpos'd the design'd Miracle.

For Joy, their useless Ropes away they'd throw,
For Musick on their own accord bestow.2

[Ach, Weh!

[Juchhe !!

[sic.

1 It is too too utterly awful! A vile Rochesterian satire, in Harleian MS., does indeed maliciously proclaim, "Hark, how the Bells of Paradise ring!”but then John Wilmot knew absolutely nothing about Paradise, acquaintanceship being with a locality quite in the opposite direction; and we may be sure that Burnet could give him very little information except of heterodox hearsay. Bells of Paradise indeed! Those hideous inventions were (like mothers-in-law), a product of the Fall. They never by any possibility could have been known in the Garden of Eden. Why are they tolerated in a Christian country, and honoured or mocked by a form of Consecration? In quiet villages, across very wide meadows or intervening valleys, Church-Bells may sound sweetly, but all the better the farther off they are; like Scotch bagpipes. In towns, they afflict thousands of fever-stricken patients; they jar on the nerves of tired students; they are fit for nothing but discord, and drunken revelry of the dullest and stupidest of men. We need no peal of bells to tell us that the doors of theatres are open, and performances about to begin. Why then should we retain these noisy and expensive abominations, on pretence of their giving invitations to Church and aids to worship? The Giants of old could not have been so bad as they are called, since we have it on the best Whistle-craft authority that they hated above all things the Ringing of Bells: and so do dogs.

2 Verbatim et literatim punctuatimque. The Poet has become so intoxicated with the tintinabulation that so musically wells, from the jingling and the tinkling of the Bells," not to mention the jangling and the clanging, that his verse is here a little "mixed." No fault of ours. We leave him to his own devices. A man who revels in belfry raptures is past praying for, or reasoning with. De gustibus, etc. Yet we may add that it was not to lift bells nearer to Heaven, but some merciful intervention to get them so far as possible lifted away from earth, that caused the providential invention of steeples. As for the people mentioned above, "For joy, their useless Ropes away they throw!" we can suggest an employment for these articles which (if regularly practised) would ensure peace and quietness in a neighbourhood immediately after bell-ringing. Either end of each rope has its uses: but both knit firmly suit best. A sensible mob might, when tired of such " Music, on their own a Cord bestow."

No wonder that the Giants were expected to uprise.

Next, Loyal Fires (the People's Offerings) see!
Like Burning Groves raising their heads on high!
As if this night was destin'd to devour

What was design'd for the next Winter's Store.
See, how it mounts! as if 't had an intent

To reach the Stagyrites fictitious Element!

Whilst on Thames, too, they such vast Fire-works make,
That all her streams seem but one Flaming Lake.

The fright'ned Gods, thinking their Skies on fire,
For safety to farthest Heav'ns retire :

They fear'd another Race of Gyants rose,

Who now had fire instead of mountains chose.
But when discreeter Gods saw the intent,
Instead of Thunder and Revenge they sent
A Herald to proclaim this Complement.

"Blest change! and now the Heavenly Powers rejoyce
That England does approve of their wise choice:
And to its Throne wrong'd Loyalty restore,
Whose Treason stretch'd its ugly limbs before.
Being Loyal grown, your bliss is now compleat,
For you before all Blessings had but That;

This day you've crown'd a King, whose God-like reign
Restores you the blest Golden Age again."

541

200

[Cf. Note 1.

Thus ends it. Elkanah Settle had been the self-elected “True Blue Protestant Poet" so long as Protestantism offered the best pay or promise; but he now hastened to become converted to Romanism as it was "looking up," and he is not unlikely to have written this, or some much inferior set of verses on the joyful occasion. The rhyming Turn-coat fell back on Protestantism when William of Orange came over, and found his own fitting apotheosis in filling a dragon's hide at Southwark Fair, there vomiting fire and smoke, but no longer only figuratively. Dryden has immortalized the reptile-impersonator, as Doeg. If the verses in laudation of King James II. appear miserable trash, we must remember that they were for the greater part written by such 'verted Protestants, who formerly libelled him. These gentry now came foremost in selfprostration and servile flattery.

Another contemporary "Poem on the Coronation," of one hundred and forty-seven lines, begins thus, "Flie, Envious Time! why dost our Bliss delay?" It really seems to have a Doeg authorship: for thus are the garments celebrated:

What rich attire the Spirit' al Lords array!
What massie Coronets adorn the Lay!
Such Cloath of Gold and Silver kill my

Brain!

My Opticks fail, and I grow Blind again.
Arch-Angels sure, leaving their glorious Sphere,
Once more themselves have Bodified and here
Resolve as English Nobles to appear.

75

Aut Settle aut Diabolus. When at his best he had been truly shown by the Master hand of Dryden, in Absalom and Achitophel:

542 Elkanah Settle, who ended his career as a Dragon.

Doeg, though without knowing how or why,
Made still a blund'ring kind of Melody;

Spur'd boldly on, and dash'd through thick and thin,
Though Sense and Nonsense, never out nor in;

Free from all meaning, whether good or bad,
And, in one word, Heroickally mad:

He was too warm on Picking-work to dwell,
But faggotted his Notions as they fell,
And if they rhim'd and rattled all was well.
Spightfull he was not, though he wrote a Satyr,
For still there goes some thinking to Ill-Nature:
He needs no more than Birds and Beasts to think,
All his occasions are to eat and drink.

If he call Rogue' and' Rascal' from a garret,
He means you no more mischief than a Parrot:
The words for Friend and Foe alike were made,
To fetter 'em in verse is all his Trade.

In Fire-works give him leave to vent his spight:
Those are the only Serpents he can write.

It is at least a change of diet, when we come from this Settle and "prisoner of Sion" J. Taylor, to the Roxburyhe Ballad here following, which also takes the Coronation of James the Second as its theme. The idea is good, of the two wandering Englishmen who have been chased out from land to land by the reproaches of the natives, first enquiring, "You Rebels of England, what do you here?" and next expressing abhorrence of Cromwellian Regicides, by "Crying, 'You Rebels of England, you murther'd your King!"" There are Nonconformists now, who openly avow their approval of this base and brutal act of assassination, enforced by an illegally constituted assembly of rebels: they would be ready to repeat it no doubt. Others (whom we in all save political opinions respect and admire) actually express their indignation at the rightful term of Usurper" being applied to Oliver Cromwell; although he was such, even against the authority of the Pride-purged and enslaved Rump-Parliament. Yet we are coolly told that, "It is to traduce the nation's deliberate choice, and to slander England's greatest Ruler!" (Camden Society: John Glanville's Voyage to Cadiz in 1625, p. xxix. of Introduction.) Why the nation was allowed no such choice; and never approved it. But this is the spirit of Dissent, in the seventeenth and the nineteenth century alike: "You Rebels of England, you murdered your King."