I will add, that as this picture was painted
immediately after Cromwell's accession to the sovereign power, the
princely aspect of the sitter was never more genuine, perhaps, than at
that moment. But there was one thing which Lely assuredly took upon
himself to qualify; to wit, the redness of the nose. It was too red in
ordinary, though not so much so as his libellers gave out, nor so
distinguished in colour from the rest of his face. When he was moved to
anger, the whole irritability of his nature seemed to rush into both nose
and cheeks; and this produced an effect, the consciousness of which was,
perhaps, of no mean service in helping him to control himself. Upon the
whole if many princes have had a more graceful aspect, few have shown a
more striking one, and fewer still have warranted the impression by their
actions."
The work, as our readers may imagine, is from first to last, an ever
shifting round of adventure. It has its dark shades as well as its lively
tints. The Great Plague and Fire furnish ample materials for the former,
as do the court beauties and _intriguantes_ for the latter. An episodal
narrative of the Plague is one of the most touching pieces in the whole
work. At present we subjoin one of
_The Great Fire._
"I was pondering one night, as I was sitting in the parlour at
Mickleham,[1] looking at a beautiful moon, and delaying to go to bed, when
Bennett came in and told me, that there was a dreadful fire in London. One
of the tradesmen had brought news of a dreadful fire the day before; but
as every fire was dreadful, and I had seen the good people of London run
away from a cow, crying out, a "mad bull," I had thought nothing of it,
and was prepared to think as little of the new one.
Pages:
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50