Of the early history of England nothing is known. It was, however, invaded
by the _Normans_; but whether they were any relations of the once
celebrated _Norman_ the pantaloon, we have no authentic record. The
kingdom had at one time seven kings--two of whom were probably the two
well-known kings of Brentford. Perhaps, also, the king of Little Britain
made a third; while old king Cole may have constituted a fourth; thus
leaving only a trifling balance of three to be accounted for.
Alfred the Great is supposed to have been originally a baker, from his
having undertaken the task of watching the cakes in the neat-herd's oven;
and Edward the Black Prince was probably a West Indian, who found his way
to our hospitable shores at an early period.
We now come to King John, who ascended the throne after putting out his
nephew's eyes with a pair of curling-irons, and who is the first English
Sovereign who attempted to write his own name; for the scrawl is evidently
something more than his mark, which is attached to Magna Charta.
We need say nothing of Richard the Third, with whom all our play-going
friends are familiar, and who made the disgraceful offer, if Shakspeare is
to be believed, of parting with the whole kingdom for a horse, though it
does not appear that the disreputable bargain was ever completed.
The wars of York and Lancaster, which, though not exactly _couleur de
rose_, were on the subject of white and red roses (that is to say, China
and cabbage), united the crown in the person of Henry the Seventh, known
to the play-going public as the Duke of Richmond, and remarkable for
having entered the country by the Lincolnshire fens; for he talks of
having got into "the bowels of the land" immediately on his arrival.
Henry the Eighth, as everybody knows, was the husband of seven wives, and
gave to Mr. Almar (the Sadler's Wells Stephens) the idea of his beautiful
dramatic poem of the Wife of Seven Husbands.
Elizabeth's reign is remarkable for having produced a mantle which is worn
at the present day, it having been originally made for one Shakspeare; but
it is now worn by Mr. George Stephens, for whom, however, it is a palpable
misfit, and it sits upon him most awkwardly.
Charles the First had his head cut off, and Mr. Cathcart acted him so
naturally in Miss Mitford's play that one would have thought the monarch
was entirely without a head all through the tragedy.
Cromwell next obtained the chief authority. This man was a brewer, who did
not think "small beer" of himself, and inundated his country with "heavy
wet," in the shape of tears, for a long period.
Charles the Second, well known as the merry monarch, is remarkable only
for his profligacy, and for the number of very bad farces in which he has
been the principal character. His brother James had a short reign, but not
a merry one. He is the only English sovereign who may be said to have
_amputated his bludgeon_; which, if we were speaking of an ordinary man
and not a monarch, we should have rendered by the familiar phrase of "cut
his stick," a process which was soon performed by his majesty.
The crown now devolved upon William and Mary, upon whom half-a crown
a-piece was thus settled by the liberality of Parliament. William was
_Prince of Orange_, a descendant probably of the great King _Pippin_.
Anne of Denmark comes next on our list, but of her we shall say nothing;
and as the Georges who followed her are so near own time, we shall
observe, with regard to them, an equally impenetrable mystery.
* * * * *