“When my troubles came on, I owed Hurst a large sum of money; and the circumstances under which I became his debtor rendered this peculiarly a debt of honour. He lent it me when he could ill spare it; yet he is the only one of all my creditors who has not in one way or other persecuted me to the present hour. When he first knew of my wreck, he called upon me—not to reproach but to encourage me—and he would not leave me till he felt sure that he had changed the moody current of my thoughts. If there be any change in him since then, it is in his increased kindness of manner and his assiduity to serve me. He is now gone out to try to sell ‘a bit of daub’ for me.”
Hurst came in, and this conversation dropped; but it had been well had Hurst been by his side on the day his last picture was opened to view at the Egyptian Hall. The catastrophe of that night might have been averted, notwithstanding Mr. Barnum and his Tom Thumb show in the adjoining room.]
* * * * *
SATIRICAL SONG UPON GEORGE VILLIERS, DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM.
In turning over some old bundles of papers of the early part of the seventeenth century, I met with the following satirical effusion upon “James’s infamous prime minister,” George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham. As an echo of the popular feelings of the people at the time it was written, it merits preservation; and although I have seen other manuscript copies of the ballad, it has never yet, as far as I can learn, appeared in print.
It appears to be a parody or paraphrase of a well-known ballad of the period, the burden of which attracted the notice of the satirist. It afterwards became a common vehicle of derision during the civil war, as may be seen by turning over the pages of the collection entitled Rump Songs, and the folio volumes of the king’s pamphlets.
The original of these parodies has hitherto eluded my researches. It is not among the Pepysian, Roxburghe, Wood, or Douce ballads, but perhaps some of your readers may be able to point it out in some public or private collection.
“Come heare, Lady Muses, and help
mee to sing,
Come love mee where
I lay;
Of a duke that deserves to be made
a king—
The cleane contrary
way,
O the cleane contrary
way.
“Our Buckingham Duke is the man
that I meane,
Come love mee where
I lay;
On his shoulders the weale of the
kingdome doth leane—
The cleane contrary
way,
O the cleane contrary
way.
“O happiest kingdome that ever was
kind,
Come love mee where
I lay;
And happie the king that hath such
a friend—
The cleane contrary
way,
O the cleane contrary
way. {292}
“Needs must I extoll his worth and
his blood—
Come love mee where
I lay;
And his sweet disposition soe milde
and soe good—
The cleane contrary
way,
O the cleane contrary
way.