s a man's life
begins, faintly, and gives no token of childhood's intensity and the
expansion of youth and the perfection of manhood, so it should also end,
faintly. The King died a death that was like the calm conclusion of a
great, lurid poem. Quievit.

Yes, his life was a poem, a poem in the praise of Pleasure. And it is
right that we should think of him always as the great voluptuary. Only
let us note that his nature never became, as do the natures of most
voluptuaries, corroded by a cruel indifference to the happiness of
others. When all the town was agog for the fete to be given by the
Regent in honour of the French King, Sheridan sent a forged card of
invitation to Romeo Coates, the half-witted dandy, who used at this time
to walk about in absurd ribbons and buckles, and was the butt of all the
streetsters. The poor fellow arrived at the entrance of Carlton House,
proud as a peacock, and he was greeted with a tremendous cheer from the
bystanding mob, but when he came to the lackeys he was told that his
card was a hoax and sent about his business. The tears were rolling down
his cheeks as he shambled back into the street. The Regent heard
later in the evening of this sorry joke, and next day despatched a
kindly-worded message, in which he prayed that Mr. Coates would not
refuse to come and 'view the decorations, nevertheless.' Though he does
not appear to have treated his inferiors with the extreme servility that
is now in vogue, George was beloved by the whole of his household, and
many are the little tales that are told to illustrate the kindliness
and consideration he showed to his valets and his jockeys and his
stable-boys. That from time to time he dropped certain of his favourites
is no cause for blaming him. Remember that a Great Personage, like a
great genius, is dangerous to his fellow-creatures. The favourites of
Royalty live in an intoxicant atmosphere. They become unaccountable for
their behaviour. Either they get beyond themselves, and, like Brummell,
forget that the King, their friend, is also their master, or they outrun
the constable and go bankrupt, or cheat at cards in order to keep up
their position, or do some other foolish thing that makes it impossible
for the King to favour them more. Old friends are generally the refuge
of unsociable persons. Remembering this also, gauge the temptation that
besets the very leader of Society to form fresh friendships, when all
the cleverest and most charming