DOI article:
Beerbohm, Max: A note on George the Fourth
DOI Page / Citation link: https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.27812#0273
By Max Beerbohm 269
into them. The cock-pits were gilded and the taverns painted
with colour, but the heart of the city was vulgar, even as before.
The simulation of higher things did indeed give the note of a
very interesting period, but how shallow that simulation was, and
how merely it was due to George's own influence, we may see in
the light of what happened after his death. The good that he
had done died with him. The refinement he had laid upon vul-
garity fell away, like enamel from withered cheeks. It was only
George himself who had made the sham endure. The Victorian
Era came soon, and the angels rushed in and drove the nymphs
away and hung the land with reps.
I have often wondered whether it was with a feeling that his
influence would be no more than life-long, that George allowed
Carlton House, that dear structure, the very work of his life and
symbol of his being, to be rased. I wish that Carlton House were
still standing. I wish we could still walk through those corridors,
whose walls were " crusted with ormolu," and parquet-floors were
"so glossy that, were Narcissus to come down from heaven, he
would, I maintain, need no other mirror for his I wish
that we could see the pier-glasses and the girandoles and the
twisted sofas, the fauns foisted upon the ceiling and the rident
goddesses along the wall. These things would make George's
memory dearer to us, help us to a fuller knowledge of him. I am
glad that the Pavilion still stands here in Brighton. Its trite
lawns and cheeky minarets have taught me much. As I write
this essay, I can see them from my window. Last night I sat
there in a crowd of vulgar people, whilst a band played us tunes.
Once I fancied I saw the shade of a swaying figure and of a wine-
red face.
The Yellow Book—Vol. III.
Q
into them. The cock-pits were gilded and the taverns painted
with colour, but the heart of the city was vulgar, even as before.
The simulation of higher things did indeed give the note of a
very interesting period, but how shallow that simulation was, and
how merely it was due to George's own influence, we may see in
the light of what happened after his death. The good that he
had done died with him. The refinement he had laid upon vul-
garity fell away, like enamel from withered cheeks. It was only
George himself who had made the sham endure. The Victorian
Era came soon, and the angels rushed in and drove the nymphs
away and hung the land with reps.
I have often wondered whether it was with a feeling that his
influence would be no more than life-long, that George allowed
Carlton House, that dear structure, the very work of his life and
symbol of his being, to be rased. I wish that Carlton House were
still standing. I wish we could still walk through those corridors,
whose walls were " crusted with ormolu," and parquet-floors were
"so glossy that, were Narcissus to come down from heaven, he
would, I maintain, need no other mirror for his I wish
that we could see the pier-glasses and the girandoles and the
twisted sofas, the fauns foisted upon the ceiling and the rident
goddesses along the wall. These things would make George's
memory dearer to us, help us to a fuller knowledge of him. I am
glad that the Pavilion still stands here in Brighton. Its trite
lawns and cheeky minarets have taught me much. As I write
this essay, I can see them from my window. Last night I sat
there in a crowd of vulgar people, whilst a band played us tunes.
Once I fancied I saw the shade of a swaying figure and of a wine-
red face.
The Yellow Book—Vol. III.
Q