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BLACKWOOD'S
130
Edinburgh
MAGAZINE.
VOL. IX.
APRIL-AUGUST, 1821.

WILLIAM BLACKWOOD, EDINBURGH;
AND
T. CADELL AND W. DAVIES, STRAND, LONDON.
1821.


7


BLACKWOOD'S
EDINBURGH MAGAZINE.
No. XLIX.
APRIL, 1821.
Vol. IX.
Contents.
Fables from La Fontaine, in English Letter from ***, inclosing Hymn
Verse.
4 to Christopher North, Esq.. 59
A Second Letter from the Man in the Manchester Poetry newmum. 64
Moon.com amanews.com 10 The September Forest.cmoramowwaw.com 76
Letter to the Editor......
16 The Wail of Lady Anne ....room.com 77
A Reverie in the Garden of Plants, 17 Letter from Fogarty O'Fogarty, Esq.. ib.
Ode written in the Cemetery of Pere Daniel O'Rourke, an Epic Poem in
La Chaise
22 Six Cantos. Canto IV. The Moon 78
Graham's Memoirs of Poussin annamarcore 23 Owen's Report to the County of Lanark 85
On the Cultivation and Patronage of Lord Byron's Doge of Venicerane 93
British Art. Letter First..... 26 WORKS PREPARING for Publica-
Letter Second mamma 29
TION www.ro
saranno. 104
British Eclogues. No. II.
Monthly List of New Publ).
The Mariner's Last Visit omnia.... 35
CATION Sanna
www.coram 106
On the Neglect of Foote as a Dramatic
Writer.
MONTHLY REGISTER.
Horæ Danicæ. No. V.
Commercial Report com
soaprenew...110
Masaniello ; a Tragedy. By B. S. Appointments, Promotions, &c. quomone 119
Ingeman
43 Births, Marriages, and Deaths.com..... 121
mancomana 39
EDINBURGH:
WILLIAM BLACKWOOD, No. 17, PRINCE'S STREET, EDINBURGH ;
AND T. CADELL AND W. DAVIES, STRAND, LONDON ;
To whom Communications (post paid) may be addrcssed.
SOLD ALSO BY ALL THE BOOKSELLERS OF THIE UNITED KINGDOM.
JAMES PALLANTYNE & CO. PRINTERS, EDINBURGH.
Xol
0901
23
B622
39125


Just Published, hy
WILLIAM BLACKWOOD, Edinburgh ; and T. CADELL, Strand, London,
I.
In Three Volumes, 12mo., Price £1, 4s.
VALERIUS;
A ROMAN STORY.
They'll sit by the fire, and presume to know what's done i' the Capitol.
SHAKESPEARE.
II,
In One volume, 12mo.,
ANNALS OF THE PARISH;
OR, THE CHRONICLE OF DALMAILING;
DURING THE MINISTRY OF
THE REV. MICAH BALW HIDDER
WRITTEN BY HIMSELF.
Arranged and Edited by the Author of " THE AYRSHIRE LEGATEES,” &c.
III.
Handsomely printed in 8vo., with a Map and Two Charts,
Price 10s. 6d.
A GEOGRAPHICAL AND COMMERCIAL VIEW
OF NORTHERN CENTRAL AFRICA;
Containing a Particular Account of the Course and Termination of
the Great River Niger, in the Atlantic Ocean.
BY JAMES M‘QUEEN.


BLACKWOOD'S
EDINBURGH MAGAZINE .
No. XLIX.
APRIL, 1821.
VOL. IX.
FABLES FROM LA FONTAINE, IN ENGLISH VERSE.
* Full of wise saws and modern instances."SHAKESPEARE.
“ I am a nameless man—but I am a friend to my country, and of my country's
friends."-IVANHOE.
A translation is in general a sad dull indeed we are told that he wrote it for
business. It is like a dish twice dress- bread. Besides, Dryden had nothing
ed, and the flavour is lost in the cook- Virgilian in his composition. It would
ing. The object should be rather to be difficult to imagine anything more
transfuse than translate ; to embody, opposite than their poetical characters,
as it were, the spirit of the original in unless it be those of Homer and Pope,
a new language; to give, in short, to who may be considered as the very
translation, the same meaning in a li- antipodes to each other. Still, when an
terary which it bears in an ecclesiasti- occasion is offered for the display of
cal sense,—where it always implies an his power, Dryden takes noble advan-
improvement in the thing translated. tage of it. For instance, when Turnus,
The mode of conducting this literary in his indignant reply to the affected
operation is as various as the terms by apprehensions of Drauces, says, -
which it is expressed. Sometimes the “Nunquam animum talem dextrâ hac (ab-
work is, according to the Dutch phrase, siste moveri)
overgeret, i. e. overdone ; sometimes, Amittes ; tecum habitet et sit pectore in
according to the French phrase, it is
isto."
traduit
, i. e. traduced ; and sometimes, The translator, adds a line, which
according to our own phrase, it is done, heightens the sarcasm, and conveys,
i. e. done for into English. Dryden in the strongest manner, the spirit and
has perhaps furnished the most bril- temper of the speaker :-
liant
specimens in our language of suc-
“ Let that vile soul in that vile body rest :
cessful execution in this line. His tenth The lodging is right worthy of the guest!”
Satire of Juvenal almost surpasses the The only poet of modern times capable
original. What can be more beautifully of translating Virgil—the elegant, the
easy and simple than the opening ?-
tender Virgil-was Racine. Dryden
“ Look round the habitable world, how should have confined himself to Juve-
few
nal ;—though in saying this, we must
Know their own good, or, knowing it, pure not forget his splendid versions of Ho-
sue."
race. Here, however, he gives us pa-
And yet how he warms with his sub- raphrase rather than translation ; he
ject as he advances, pouring forth bears the Lyric Muse of the Latin
thoughts that breathe, and words that bard upon his own sublimer pinions,
bur, in the very spirit of the Roman to a loftier heaven of invention, and
satirist.
makes her sing in a higher tone of in-
But Juvenal was a poet after his spiration. There is nothing in the
own heart, and he translates him con Odes of Horace that can be compared
amore. His Virgil is less happy. Here with “ Alexander's Feast ;” and we
he seems to be performing a task,--and shall seek in vain in the original for
Vol. IX.
Octavo. John Murray, Albemarle Street, London. 1820.
A


4
Fables from La Fontaine.
[ April,
the vigour and verve of the following of wit, or a fool; but to be both, and
translation:
that too in the extreme, is indeed ex-
“ Happy the man, and happy he alone, traordinary, and only to be found in
He who can call to-day his own! him.”
He who secure within can say
• To-morrow do thy worst, for I have lived easier to convey an idea of La Fontaine
But, though it might perhaps be
to-day !
Be fair, or foul, or rain, or shine;
by transcription than description, yet
The joys I have possessa in spite of fate we must not shrink from the attempt
are mine :
altogether. But how shall we express
Not Heaven itself upon the past has power, in English the bonhommie, the naiveté,
But what has been has been, and I have the badinage, those characteristic qua-
had my hour.”
lities of his poetry, which, like the po-
Lib. III. Ode 29. etry itself, seem almost out of the reach
But we are straying from the object of translation. Let us try. First then
of our present inquiry,—La Fontaine. his bonhommie is revealed to us in that
Who is there that has not read La comprehensive benevolence, which does
Fontaine ? To those who have he need not confine its sympathy to mankind
not, and to those who have not, he can- alone, but embraces all ranks of crea-
not be described. It is an inviting sub- ted beings. He considers the inferior
ject—but there are some things in the creatures as—
world which defy definition or descrip- “ Hotes de l'univers sous le noms d'ani-
tion, and of such are those exquisite maux;"
peculiarities of style which distinguish and he seems to entertain some feelings
the French Fabulist. As, in the case of kindness even for the vegetable in-
of a beautiful countenance, where the habitants of our common world, if one
charm resides rather in the expression may judge from the tone of affectionate
than in the features themselves, it is regret with which he laments the ha-
in vain that limners endeavour to fix voc committed by the stag upon the
upon canvass the changing.“ Cynthia leaves of the vine which had preserved
of the minute ;" one look in her face him,-
makes us forget all their daubs; so with " Que de si doux ombrages,
La Fontaine, a single page of his works Soient exposés à ces outrages."
will reveal to the
reader more of his His morality is of that indulgent kind
nameless graces than he would collect which probes the heart without wound-
from us, even though we were to fol- ing it, and leads us to virtue, by carry-
low the bent of our inclinations, and ing us back to nature. His Fables are,
discourse most eloquently upon the indeed, as it were, the law of nature in
subject, through a dozen pages. The action. Virtue is represented by him
graces of his style are not only undefi- in her most engaging form, as the off-
nable, but incomparable ; he is a poet spring of sentiment; and the way to
absolutely sui generis, and we are at a her temple, instead of the customary
loss for an object of comparison. He steep and thorny road," appears like
sometimes reminds us of Goldsmith, , a “primrose path.” In his exposure
but it is rather in himself than in his of vice there is no ill-nature, no ran.
writings ; though Goldsmith certainly cour, no bitterness of satire ;-he is not
possesses more than any writer we one of those who “ridet et odit.” The
know, that mixture of tenderness of perusal of his Fables sooths and com-
feeling, with playfulness of humour, poses the mind, producing the same
which finds its way so irresistibly to sort of refreshment which arises from
the heart. In their individual charac- a quiet stroll in the country, --from
ters the resemblance is much more stri- which we return with those kindly
king. What La Bruezere says of the feelings towards human nature, and
French poet, might mutato nomine be that tranquil spirit of resignation to
applied indifferently to either. * La the will of Providence, which areshewn
Fontaine appeared coarse, heavy, and in an indulgent forbearance to the fail-
stupid ; he could not speak or describe ings of others, and a patient endurance
what he had just seen, but when he of our own misfortunes ;--and what
wrote he was the model of poetry. All better lessons than those can we learn
is lightness, elegance, fine natural sen- from philosophy.
timents, and delicacy of expression, And next for his naiveté, that en-
throughout his works. It is very easy, gaging charm which seems to result
said a humorous observer, to be a man from the union of two things which we


1921.)
Fables from La Fontaine.
5
fear are seldom found in conjunction, we do not enjoy his dry and quaint
-innocence of heart, and cleverness of humour as much as that wanton, play-
head. It is to this mixture of shrewd- ful, sportive strain, in which he so
ness and simplicity, archness and un- often indulges. With what an ap-
consciousness, that weowethose charm- pearance of being in earnest does he
ing contrasts between the thought and identify himself with the concerns of
the expression, which, like a delicate the creatures of his fancy! How feel-
figure in arussetgown, render both more ingly he seems to sympathise with the
attractive, and constitute " la grace distress of his poor disconsolate bird,
de la souddaintê" of which he himself who has lost—"ses eufs, ses tendres
speaks. And it is the happy compound @ufs, sa plus douce esperance !" The
of these ingredients that forms “la characters of the different animals are
grace encore plus belle que la beauté," drawn and preserved with a minute
which is the distinguishing quality of attention to nature, that gives to his
his muse. How prettily, for example, Fables much of the interest of a drama;
does he talk of love,“ce mal qui peut- and so gravely and completely does he
étre est un bien." There is, indeed, seem to surrender himself to the illu-
something in his style which may truly sions of his imagination, that it is dif-
be called delicious. He writes as á ficult not to catch the contagion for å
man might be supposed to write who moment, and pull down our map to
has just been loosened from the apron search for the great city of Ratapolis.
strings of nature. Thus, he always But the greatest merit of all in La
awakens the same sort of interest with Fontaine, is the happy art which he
which one cannot help listening to the possesses of insinuating the most im-
artless prattle of childhood. For, we portant instruction, while he seems to
are as much delighted with the inge- be only amusing his reader with the
nuous disclosures of feeling into which details of trifles. For instance, in the
he seems to be betrayed in his acci- dispute between the Rabbit and the
dental conversations with the reader, Weazle, who had, in the absence of the
as with the gaiety and spirit with which proprietor of the warren, taken pos-
he animates his narrations. At once session of a burrow,—the one defend-
simple, tender, and natural, he con- ing his title as first occupier, and ridi-
trives to leave upon our hearts a per- duling the pretended rights of Jean
manent impression of all the argu- Lapin ;-—the other claiming by virtue
ments which he had in the first in of a regular succession from the afore-
stance addressed to our understandings. said Jean, through Pierre and Simon,
He is, above all others, the Poet of the his immediate ancestors—we have the
Graces; and, in his most unstudied cream of the whole controversy on the
and careless effusions, we feel inclined right of property. The Fables of La
to apply to himself the lines which he Fontaine are not intended exclusively
addressed to a lady of his own time:- for childhood. He is the poet of com-
“La negligence, à mon gre, si requise mon life and common sense. To un-
Pour cette fois fut sa dame d'atours." derstand him completely requires an
It is, however, a great mistake to intimate acquaintance with men and
suppose that La Fontaine was indebte with things, and, as often as we return
ed to nature alone for his poetical ex to him, we shall find that he will af-
cellence. The gifts he owed to her ford us entertainment and instruction
were sensibility and imagination ; but exactly in proportion to the extent of
no one could be more sedulous than he our experience, and the progress of our
was in studying the niceties of lan- knowledge.
guage, and ransacking the treasures of But it is time to turn from La Fon-
the older writers, to form picturesque taine to his Translator, or rather his
and imitative combinations of expres- Imitator ; for the writer of the volume
sion for his own use. If any one before us has taken the French poet as
should be so deceived, by the apparent a master rather than as a model; and,
facility of his versification, as to over as he tells us in his preface, has limit-
look the elaborate pains of the com- ed himself to the task of putting some
position, he will in fact be paying the of those Fables which most struck his
highest compliment to La Fontaine ; fancy, into English verse, of various
for “ ars est celare artem.”
measure, without always copying the
Lastly, we must say a few words of thoughts, or attempting the manner
his badinage ; and we doubt whether of the original, and he has introduced


6
Fables from La Fontaine.
[ April,
his prototype.
some allusions to the present times La Fontaine the vehicle of political
where they were suggested by the sub- discussion and polemical controversy.
ject. We can truly say, that the sam It is pity too, that a volume which
ple he has given us, would make us might please all the world, should be
anxiously wish for more, if we did not rendered unpalatable to so many, by
think that his talents might be better the introduction of topics which, as
employed in original composition. It far as the merit of the book is con-
does not seem to us that it is necessary cerned, would have been much better
for him " to steer by the rudder and omitted altogether. A polemical pamph-
compass of another man's thoughts;" let may be a very good thing in its
and indeed we like him best when he way, but we do not expect to find a
is least like the original. Still, if he polemical pamphlet under the title of
will be content with the humble office ** Fables from La Fontaine, in Eng-
of imitation, we think him eminently lish Verse." We particularly allude to
qualified for the task he has underta- the tone and temper of the note on
ken. In wit and humour, in wanton "The Woodman and the Forest." If it is
playful satire, in sportive raillery, he expedient, for the good of the whole
may fairly challenge a comparison with community, that the Catholics should
We doubt whether be excluded from political privileges
La Fontaine himself is more success- (the only grounds on which such
ful in provoking a smile by the happy exclusion can be defended,)—let them
expression of inexpressible ideas, and be excluded, but let the necessity be
by those irresistible combinations of clearly made out, and when made out,
language which convey more to the let it at least be enforced without in-
mind than they reveal to the eye or sulting the feelings of the objects of
the ear, and that in a way, too, neither the exclusion.* To talk of the admis-
to disgust or displease. He is very sion of our Catholic fellow-subjects to
skilful, too, in the use of those sort of an equal participation with ourselves
quaint phrases which give force and in the blessings of the constitution, as
spirit to the familiar and ludicrous likely to lead to the rekindling of the
style of composition. He perhaps re fires of Smithfield, is to talk in defiance
minds us sometimes more of Peter of reason and common sense. To im-
Pindar than La Fontaine, and his style pute to the Catholic Church at present
combines much of the beauties of both the persecuting spirit which once ani-
What we miss most in the English mated it, is unfair and uncharitable.
version, is that gentleness of feeling, Persecution belongs exclusively to no
and tenderness of sentiment, which particular sect. Henry the Eighth at
pervade the French fables. This is one time burnt Protestants for denying
perhaps to be attributed to the slight the real presence; and, at another, cut
infusion of the gall of party politics off the heads of Catholics for denying
with which the work is seasoned ; the his own supremacy. Persecution was
effects of which upon the milk of hu- the spirit of the age, and was practised
man kindness, are, we fear, invariably indiscriminately by either sect that
the same. Our political sentiments are happened to be uppermost. If the Ca-
well known, and we cordially approve tholics carried it farther than the Pro-
of the substance of the doctrines which testants, we must at least remember
the writer before us so zealously main- that they had a better excuse for it,
tains; but there is a time and a place believing, as they did, that there was
for all things. We fly to poetry as a re no salvation out of the pale of their
lief from the angry contentions of the own church. If they, however, car-
hour, to sooth our imaginations with ried it farther, we have continued it
more pleasing pictures than the world longer. Till very lately, it was a hang-
of reality presents to us. It is hard, in- ing matter for a priest to say mass;
deed, if there is to be no neutral ground, and the rest of the code relating to our
no sanctuary to secure us against the Catholic brethren, was in the same
intrusion of party hostilities; and, in merciful spirit of enactment. The Ca.
this light, we consider it as a species tholics, therefore, have as much to fore
of profanation, to make the Fables of give and forget as we have. But the
Swift has somewhere said, that we have only just religion enough to make us hate
one another.


1821.]
Fables from La Fontaine.
7
question is not what has been, but what could accrue from such a belief, even
is. Queen Mary and the Pretender supposing it were more general, if, as
are dead. Where is the country in is probably the case, it impresses the
which the persecuting spirit that the mind with a deeper sense of the so-
author imputes to the Catholic Church, lemnity of the ceremony, and implants
is now acted upon? The fact is, that a stronger feeling of the religious re-
the Catholics only ask from our own sponsibility. Again, if we all believed
government the same indulgence that that marriage was a sacrament, might
Catholic governments abroad extend to it not tend to strengthen the obliga-
their Protestant subjects. For our own tions of the marriage vow by an addi-
parts, we have no fancy for the Catho- tional sanction,-a sanction, of which
lic religion, and should be very sorry we fear the annals of Doctors' Com-
to see its influence extended; but we mons will shew that it stands deplo-
think it a strange complaint to make rably in need.
against men now-a-days, that they be But we gladly leave the polemical
lieve too much; there is surely more for the poetical part of the volume,-
danger to be apprehended from those upon which last portion we can be-
who haveno belief at all. Wethink the stow almost unqualified praise. Let
doctrine of transubstantiation very ab- the writer speak for himself. We will
surd, and equally repugnant to the begin with one of the shortest fables by
words of Scripture and the evidence of way of specimen.
our senses; but we cannot see whatharm
“ The Lion and his Associates.
Once a Lion with three other beasts made alliance,
And set all the quadruped world at defiance.
In the honour of each, every member confided,
That the booty they took should be fairly divided.
It happened the Bear caught a Deer in his toils,
And he sent for the rest to go snacks in his spoils.
They met: the fat prey each was ready to fly on,
But the post of grand carver they left to the Lion.”
The Lion executes the task allotted to him very adroitly, while the other
high contracting parties,—the Wolf, the Fox, and the Bear, drew round:-
“ And stood licking their lips while the carving went on."
The imitator has, we think, shewn taste in restoring the associates as they
are described in the old fable, instead of adopting the new quadruple alliance
which La Fontaine had, for no good reason, introduced.
“ Quoth the Lion, 'You'lI think me a Butcher by trade:
Observe with what skill these allotments are made.
The first to my rank, not a beast will refuse;
So this as the Lion's just option I choose.
The second of course as my right you'll resign,
By the right of the strongest that portion is mine.
That the third is my own is as certainly true,
To my courage can less than a quarter be due ?
And now, my good friends, having settled these shares,
Let him lay his paws on the remnant who dares !'”
The imitations abound with a great variety of metre, and there is, through-
out, an uncommon facility and spirit in the versification. For instance, the open-
ing stanza of “ The Wasps and the Bees :"-
“ There happened once a suit between
That insect tribe who serve a queen,
Those quaker-coated flies I mean,
I'he industrious Bees :-
“ And the pert Wasps, that roving pack,
In yellow jackets trimm'd with black,
Who, corsair-like, rob and attack
Whome'er they please.”


8
Fables from La Fontaine.
[April,
Or again, in “ Love and Folly."
“ In the good days of yore, before Cupid was blind,
With eyes keen as arrows he aim'd at each bosom ;
Old records of Paphos the cause have assign'd,
How the playful young Deity happen'd to lose 'em;
And they shew, why so small is the portion of bliss,
In the tender connection from that time to this.
“ Master Love and Miss Folly were very great cronies ;
One minute they kiss'd and another they pouted:
The cause of their frequent discussions unknown is;
Which did the most mischief may fairly be doubted:
But so it fell out, upon one April day,
A terrible quarrel took place at their play."
Folly teazes Love to join together a silly young fop and a superannuated wi-
dow. 'Love hesitates, and at last refuses, when Folly, losing her temper,
throws her bauble sceptre at his head, which hitting him full in the eyes,
makes him blind ever after. Cupid complains to the council of Olympus :-
“ A synod of Gods was conven'd at the place :
Jove patiently heard what was urg'd by each pleader;
For the good of mankind he determin’d the case,
That the culprit should now to the blind boy be leader ;
And e’en to this day, thousand instances prove,
Folly still is the guide and the leader of Love."
If our limits would permit us, we should be glad to find room for the “ Rat
in Retirement,” which it seems is from the pen of a friend ; and for the “ Ad-
dress to the Critics,” which is struck off in the author's happiest manner, and
which, though the least literal, is perhaps the most Fontainish morsel in the
whole volume. One more fable, and we have done.
“ The Satyr and the Traveller.
A Sater in a rocky den
Lived distant from the haunts of men,
Though half a goat, he seldom ran
To revel in the train of Pan;
But led a quiet sober life
With one fair Dryad for his wife;
And she, engross'd by household matters,
Prepar’d his soup, and brought young Satyrs.
It happen'd on a wintry day
A Traveller had lost his way;
And stiff with cold, and drench'd with rain,
He joy'd the Satyr's cave to gain.
He peeps :--and midst recesses inner,
He sees his horned host at dinner.
He halts, and near the entrance lingers,
And, blowing hard his aching fingers,
He frames apologetic speeches,
To his landlord with the shaggy breeches :
But, ere he could excuse begin,
A hoarse rough voice exclaims- Come in!
If you can dine without a cloth,
Stranger, you're welcome to my broth.”
The Satyr then, to satisfy the curiosity of his wife, inquires of his guest
for what purpose he had been blowing his fingers so assiduously. The stranger
replies
“To please your lady I'll inform her,
I blow my hands to make them warmer.'


1821.]
Fables from La Fontaine.
The mistress of the rocky cottage
Pours for her guest some smoking pottage ;
Who to gulp down his mess the quicker,
Blows, ere he tastes, the scalding liquor.
The Satyr, o'er the table leaning,
Surpris’d, once more inquires his meaning."
The Traveller now tells him that he blows his broth to cool it; at which re-
ply the Satyr loses all patience, shews him the door, and fairly turns him out:
««Whilst I possess this vaulted roof,
(And fiercely then he rais'd his hoof,)
No mouth its mossy sides shall hold
Which blows at once both hot and cold.”
We subjoin the conclusion of the fable, with the notes, because it is one of
the best and most spirited of the “ modern instances,” without stepping be-
yond the bounds of fair and legitimate satire; though we still think this is
scarcely the proper place for such topics.
“Tell me, ye Westminster Electors,
Who love polítical projectors,
Whom cunning state empirics please,
Have you not met with mouths like these ?
Mouths which advance assertions bold,
Blow sometimes hot, and sometimes cold ?
Have you no smooth-tongued sophist found
Who, Proteus-like, still shifts his ground,
Promulging for the public good
Schemes by no mortal understood ?
Whose patriot soul so truly Roman,
Would trust the regal power to no man,
Though check'd and limited it be,
Like Britain's well poised monarchy:
Yet plasters praises thick and hearty
Upon his fav'rite Bonaparte?"
“ Who, deeply ting’d with classic lore,
Would now with lofty pigeon soar,
Displaying to our wond'ring sight,
A literary paper-kite!
Giving, as Harold mounts the gale,
Collected scraps to form his tail:-
Now takes a lower road to fame,
Charm'd if the rabble shout his name;
When every zealous wild supporter,
Proves Parliaments are best when shorter,
By windows broke in every quarter:
Whilst fractur'd heads demonstrate clearly,
These sports should be repeated yearly !
When such mad follies meet our eye,
Is't right to laugh-or must we cry?
We smile at such attempts to fob us;
But sigh to find the hoaxer H-
Electors ! midst this horrid clatter,
'Twas well to imitate the Satyr.”
" Since the printing of this Fable, the praise here given to the Westminster
Electors is no longer due. Panegyric or censure expressed in this place will
affect them very little; nor perhaps will their choice, in the present instance, be
of much importance to the great council of the nation. This event however,
which many persons will consider as the extinction of good sense among the
elective body in that city, will be celebrated with appropriate honours by the
detrocratic faction. Mors janua vitæ, is a common motto for funereal decora-
10


10
Fables from La Fontaine.
[April,
ments. Mr H-e with the same antithesis, and complying with the pro-
pensity to punning, which heraldic inscriptions often exhibit, may place under
his achievement,
NEWGATE IS THE NEW GATE TO THE HOUSE OF COMMONS."
The well-known Epigram of a noble Poet, on the same subject, affords one
of the many instances of coincidence of thought, where there could be no
communication between the writers :
Would you go to the House through the true gate,
Much quicker than ever Whig Charley went;
Let Parliament send you to Newgate,
And Newgate will send you to Parliament !
But we must bring this rambling celui de n'y penser pas.". Whoever he be,
article to a conclusion. If we had more we hope a second edition will soon en-
space, it would be easy to say much able this “nameless man" to step boldly
more in praise of this amusing volume, forward ; and though we cannot pro-
- and if we had a whole sheet before mise that he will thereby secure to his
us, we should have nothing more to descendants the same advantages which,
urge in the way of objection. The vo- it is said, were conferred upon those of
lume is evidently the work of a scho- the French Fabulist—a perpetual im-
lar and a gentleman, while the happy munity from taxation; yet he may
facility of his numbers as clearly shews fairly claim for himself that wreath,
that he was born a poet :-for, like which he is so well entitled to wear,
La Fontaine, “ il joint a l'art de plaire from the Tree of Apollo.
A SECOND LETTER FROM THE MAN IN THE MOON.
“ Petruchio. How bright and goodly shines the moon !
Katharine. The moon ?- the sun ; it is not moonlight now.
Petr. Now, by my mother's son, and that's myself,
It shall be moon or star, or what I list,
Or e'er I journey to your father's house-
Evermore cross'd and cross'd! nothing but cross'd.
Kath. Forward, I pray.
And be it moon, or sun, or what you please ;
And if you please to call it a rush candle,
Henceforth, I vow, it shall be so for me.' Taming of the Shrew.
In my last, respected Christopher, I pamphlet of predictions concerning her
gave vent to some of my spleen at the appearances throughout every night
misconceptions and mal-practices of of every month in the year, yclept an
certain of the poetical tribe in your Almanack? Has not the cottager the
nether sphere. I have as much reason stitched pages of hieroglyphic Moore,
for wager of battle with another set of with a splashed red stamp in the dexter
dabblers in fiction—I mean those prose corner of the title-page? Does not the
writers, who compound Novels and Ro- schoolmaster possess White's Epheme-
mances for the entertainment of sub- ris,or the Gentleman's Diary, cramm'd
scribers to Circulating Libraries, and to the colophon with crabbed diagrams?
other gentry who are overburdened What old lady is unpossessed of Gold.
with time. "What I have to complain smith, or else of that still morediminu-
of in these authors is, that they take tive record of red-letter days, and lunar
strange liberties with the condition of changes, with which the Company of
the Moon—that is, they generally keep Stationers indulge her, in a fairy quarto,
her at the full throughout their stories. about the size of the good matron's pin-
Now, every body knows that the moon cushion? Do not the various counties
-“the inconstant moon”-applicable of England and of Scotland too, belike,
as this epithet is to her, is “constant (although of that I am not so well
in inconstancy"-like a lady of the old aware, for when I made almanacks my
French court, she makes her changes study it was in England,) and eke the
very regularly—she waxes and wanes learned universities, send forth the
-increases and decreases, with all the same predictive notices in huge broad-
precision of a time-piece. Is there not side sheets, which make walls and
forsooth in every house in the land, a doors, and wainscotting look glorious


1821.] A Second Letter from the Man in the Moon.
11
where they are hung up? And do not ral would get a parliamentary reward
all and every one of those tell more for the discoverer if he would bring
than a year beforehand ; nay, and some his invention to perfection)—while in
of the picture to the eye, the very others the nights are as invariably dark
shape which my mistress the Moon will and moonless ? In the romances, I
assume on any given night? Do they believe, most pranks are played with
not mark down, with the accuracy of the “ silver deity of the silent hours,"
a prompter's play-book, the very times for most novels are conducted, if not
when she will make her" exits and her with “ truth," yet by “ daylight.” But
entrances," and declare as infallibly as in a romance, where, for instance, the
any old tide-waiter, the periods of her scene is laid on the shores of the Me-
influence upon the hour of high-water diterranean, the moon is pressed into
at our sea-ports ? Although she never the writer's service, and made to beam
fails to do what these sapient oracles “sans intermission"-she is made to
set down for her, yet is she taxed with walk through the sky, and to show the
mutability-mutable as she is then, it whole of her face without a veil, night
must be granted that she is so metho- after night-for otherwise, how could
dically, and that any one of tolerable Paolo and Ninetta dance upon the
prudence can foresee her mutations. sands in her golden radiance? But
Well, then, is it fair, doing, as she presto, it is all sable gloom again, if a
does, just what is prescribed to her, cut-throat is hired to murder the he-
that novelists should so frequently roine, or even if the heroine is to pry
make her stand stock still ? Have not about the Castle in which she is im-
I, above all men, reason for incredu- mured, shading a lamp with her taper
lous hatred of what I read in their fac fingers, though we know very well it
brications, when I find Henryand Lucy must be blown out before she gets back
meeting a-nights, for three weeks to- to her chamber again. The moon, in
gether, under an oak tree, and having this case, if not altogether obliged to
the round moon shining above them make herself scarce, is at the utmost
through the branches all the while ? It only allowed to give a sullen gleam, and
is not, perhaps, requisite that writers of then shroud herself in tenfold dark,
stories should be very minute chrono- ness and poor Angelina, or Celesti-
logists, but in a case of this kind, it is na, or Rosalbina (or whatever the for-
obvious to all, that they must be talk- lorn virgin's name may be only there
ing of some miraculous appearance in is a special necessity for its ending in
the heavenly bodies, or at least they a) staggers onward in murky obscuri-
cannot be speaking of that Moon from ty. There is one thing, however, worth
which I take my prone descent, plump- notice, and this is, let the place be ever
down every fortnight. It would be so ruinous, and full of flights of steps,
invidious to point out any particular and crowded with pillars, and dilapi-
work of fiction ; yet surely the multi- dated by very suspicious looking chasms
tude of them, in which no observance in the side-walls—yet never did I read
of the constant variation of the phases of one of these young ladies tumbling
of the Moon is paid by the writers of down stairs, or making her nose bleed
them (the fair ones especially,) is so by hitting it against an obtrusive pil-
great, that it cannot have escaped thy lar, or pitching head over heels down
keen eye, Christopher, or the observa- any of the lateral passages, or yawning
tion of thy readers. In fact, our Ro- rents in the mason-work-every one of
mancers and Novelists play such va- them an accident most likely to mis-
garies with the moon's appearances and betide a damsel who paces about dark-
non-appearances, that I become as per- ling, her lamp out and the moon set.
plexed as poor Katharine was, and know The utmost misfortune which befals,
hot whether these tale-tellers, like Pe- is that she wanders astray a little, and
trachio, are talking of the moon, the finds herself in a prohibited part of the
san, or of a rush candle ; for their dwelling perhaps, and possibly she may
description of her doings seems to suit chance to pick up a rusty dagger by the
one as little as the other. Canst thou way, which (the fountain of her heart
not recal to thy recollection, that, in meanwhile curdling with horror) she
some delicate narratives, there is a perceives to be incrusted with blood
moon visible every night, wherever she long since shed. But thou wilt say—
is wanted-(a most useful thing it “Marry, how does she perceive all this
would be, and the Postmasters-Gene- in the dark?"-ay, that's a problem,
VOL. IX.
B


12
A Second Letter from the Man in the Moon. [April,
which, from default of intellect on my upon the shelf. In this, some catastro-
part, must wait without its solution, phe was to be brought about by a mur-
and a joyful Q. E. D. at its tail. Not der in the dark--the gentleman-villain
content, however, with making the is to walk on first, and the person who
moon come and go, out of all reason- goes second in the line is to be dispatch-
able calculation, they will not do hered by a blow from a hired assassin-
justice, when they allow that she is some one, however, who knows the ar-
present. Hast thou not in thy multi- rangement, pops in before the leader,
farious reading, Christopher, met with and so this worthy gets the blow on
passages of the same kidney as this ? his mazzard which he intended for his
* Maltida rushed towards the Castle, neighbour at his back. Now, unluckily
whose sculptured portal was illumina- when I saw it, the stage was so im-
ted by the lucid rays of the full orbed perfectly darkened, indeed so light was
moon. Suddenly, to her terror, she saw it all the while, that not only the per-
a muffled figure issuing from the arch- sons of the actors, but even the most
way, when at once a multitudinous trifling distinctions in their dresses were
mass of clouds spread over the lumi- more than merelyperceptible, so that the
nary, and the shuddering Matilda was cunning contriver of the plot seemed to
involved in solid darkness. It became us as if he could not possibly fail to see,
impossible for her to determine on and even to know the very person who
which side to direct her steps—all was stept forward, and made him play se-
black, bewildering, indistinguishable cond fiddle, when he did not intend it.
shade-shepaused, and listened.” Now Now, this make-believe theatrical
although, when the moon is “ full sort of darkness is what I cannot help
orbed," I am in it, yet from confiden- thinking of, when romancers sudden-
tial and credible friends, I am too well ly wrap up their moon in the man-
aware that a cloudy night upon earth, tle of a fleecy cloud, and tell us that
at the time of the month above indica- not a twinkling of light remains—but
ted, is nothing like a perfectly dark despite their asseverations that the
one; and when only broken clouds blackness is pitchy, palpable, porten-
pass over the moon, there remains a tous, I am certain there is still a glim-
very tolerable degree of glimmer to di- mering sufficient to warn Matilda from
rect one's steps by, or to discern the stepping into a puddle, if she dislikes
objects immediately around one. to wet her white satin slippers, which
Thisinstantaneous, and impenetrable are, no doubt, prettily edged with sil-
darkness, so often conjured up by ro ver tinsel, and graced with a spangled
mance writers, strongly reminds me of rosette in front. She may pause she
the dark scenes on the stage, where al- may listen—but I will be bound for it,
though the interlocutors of the drama she walks straight to the Castle, if it
deplore their being “sand blind" with is needful that she should do so. Even
it, or even high gravel-blind,” (as if she wanders, it will only be into some
Lancelot Gobbo bath it) yet do box, deserted cloister, or ruinous oratory,
pit, and gallery, very plainly distin- for sure I am, it is not so dark as to let
guish every thing that is going on ; hier go astray into the moat, or through
and while the actors creep about with the horse-pond, or among the piggeries,
faultering foot, that they may notstum- or through a brew-house, a wash-house,
ble, and with hands dispread, that they or a scullery-all which were actual
may not dash their brains out by jost- appendages, although vulgar ones, to
ling against an obstacle haply harder the most romantic castles in baronial
than their skulls—the great wonder days of yore. Now, if future construc-
would be, if anyof the blundering awk- tors of novels and romances will take
wardness which so often happens in the my advice, (though I am half afraid
dark were to take place; for no spec- they will give no heed to it) I should
tator, however simple, can help belie- recommend to them, when they have
ving that the “harlotry players” see fixed that such or such a fact shall hap-
one another perfectly. I remember see- pen at the time of full moon, to re-
ing a play (for I sometimes go to the member, that at about three pages on-
theatre when my sovereign lady is “hid ward, (or as many more as will occupy
in her vacant interlunar cave”) which about fourteen days, by a rough guess)
was called, The Wife of Two Hus- it must be a night without a moon-
bands, though I fear that both wife convenient as it may be for Orlando to
and husbands twain are now all laid go home by moonlight, he must be


1821.) A Second Letter from the Man in the Moon.
13
content to guide his steps by a lantern; marks and notes of time, that the read-
and if Charlotte indites a love epistle, er finds it impossible to say whether
when, like the rest of of the house, she they have adapted their story to the
ought to be in bed, and asleep, she po- nature of things in this particular or
sitively must not indulge in a simile, not.
drawn from any pretended peep-out at Now I am on the score of novel-
the moon, and from affecting to see her reading, and that I may not seem to
image twinklingin the water--for moon be altogether morose, (for I must own
there assuredly can be none visible. that my communications to you have
Again, the dealers in the sublimer style, almost all been of the find-fault kind,)
the romance-inditers, ought, when they I will pay a little debt of gratitude for
bave once fixed upon a perfectly moon- a favourreceived from one of the novel-
less night, to allow the moon to be writing tribe. In a little tale called
journeying up in the sky after a couple “ Duty,” by the late Margaret Roberts,
of weeks have elapsed in their narra- (of whom it is worth wbile to read her
tive. Wish ever so, that it may be as friend Mrs Opie's account, in which her
black as thunder, it cannot be allowed delightfully feminine character is admi-
them—the current of events must con- rably drawn-a character in which in-
form to the changes of nature, and they tellect, gentleness, and firinness of
must postpone their dark deeds for a principle seem to have been most hap-
fortnight further on in the work. At pily blended)-in this tale, there is a
this particular period, Rustivisagio can- delicate compliment to me, me—the
not be allowed to mutter to his Com- Man in the Moon! I said before (al-
rogue Ugglifizio—“Ha, by St Domi- though my modesty would not suffer
nic, as murky a night as we could wish me to expatiate upon it) that I do not
for !" No," the blanket of the dark” so often get any mention made of me,
will have some holes in it, and through as, upon reasonable consideration of
them some lunar rays will penetrate; the superabundant panegyric lavished
it is an equal chance too, that the said upon the moon, may seem to be natu-
blanket may be removed altogether. ral and right. But in the posthumous
But enough-you may be sure, con- novelet of Mrs Roberts I have a whole
nected as I am with the moon, that I ode inscribed to me, and, partial as I
canpot read fictitious works, contain- am aware my judgment must neces-
ing these discrepancies, with all the sarily be in the matter, I still do think
coolness of an unconcerned person. No, that thou, Christopher, wilt allow that
I
get puzzled---my wits turn topsy- many of the stanzas have great merit.
turvy—and I shut up the book in de- I suppose I am to understand that the
spair. Not, indeed, that all these light sentiments are intended to come from
troops of the literary squad are guilty the heroine of the tale, rather than
of these faults—but since I have been the authoress. Be it so. I subjoin
80 scrupulous as not to mention those most of the poem, allowing myself the
“who are transgressors in this sort," benefit of making a running gloss up-
I, on the other hand, shall not call upon it, for the lady is sometimes a little
the blush of modesty on the cheeks of out of her reckoning; but, on the
those who either have steered clear of whole, it is exceedingly grateful and
their fellow-fiction-mongers' errors, or flattering to me to have been so no-
else have so dextrously embroiled all ticed. The ode opens thus.
1.
Man of the Moon ! enthroned on high,
Bright regent of the midnight sky,
Receive an Earthite's suppliant sigh,
Man of the Moon !
Here, then, my humility makes me confess, that the second line contains
the title of my liege mistress the Moon herself, and not an appellation of mine.
2.
Whate'er thy form and nature be,
Long have I loved and worshipped theo,
And been thy humble votary,
Man of the Moon!


14
A Second Letter from the Man in the Moon.
[April,
3.
For in thy broad and shining face,
Eyes, nose, and mouth, and chin Í trace,
With many a soft and smiling grace,
Man of the Moon !
'Tis true, thy head is round and bare,
And seems to mourn the loss of hair,
A wig, for love of fashion, wear,
Man of the Moon !
In the stanzas above, there is some confusion concerning my looks-in-
deed, in the last of them, I am fearful that the writer mistakes the moon it-
self for my head; otherwise I know of no particular deficiency in the outside
honors of my brain-pan-but let it pass, the next verse makes up for it all.
5.
But I will love thee as thou art,
And give to thee my truant heart,
And never from my vows depart,
Man of the Moon !
I skip on now over four verses; and here I must beg leave to say, that the
inquiry in the 10th and 11th is of too delicate a nature to admit of a public
answer.
10.
When Venus in her silver vest,
Nearer thy orb appears to rest,
Does not one sigh escape thy breast,
Man of the Moon !
11.
Dost thou not feel some soft alarms,
And long, whene'er thou view'st her charms,
To stop her transit in thy arms,
Man of the Moon ?
O, staid and semnologous Christopher ! my heart goes pít-a-pat even at the
mere transcribing of these exquisitely expressed and bosom-searching queries
--but I must not betray myself.
12.
And tell me, dost thou never peep,
When mortals sleep (or seem to sleep)
And from thy chamber slily creep,
Man of the Moon,
13.
To watch this busy world below,
To see how joy is mixt with woe,
How often cares from pleasures flow,
Man of the Moon ;
14.
And then return unto thy sphere,
Thy eyes bedew'd with pity's tear
For all that thou hast witnessed here,
Man of the Moon?
15.
Oh if thou wert to gossip given,
How many a tale of Earth and Heaven
Thou 'dst tell from rosy morn to even,
Man of the Moon!
To much of this my present and previous letter is a sufficient answer.


1821.] A Second Letter from the Man in the Moon.
15
18.
Ah who can stop a woman's tongue ?
Or, who like her a theme prolong?
One question more then, right or wrong,
Man of the Moon !
19.
Say, hast thou ever yet explored,
Or dost thou guard the sacred hoard,
Where human wits 'tis said are stored,
Man of the Moon ?
20.
If such thy office, deign, O deign,
To give me back my wits again,
For long I've search'd for them in vain,
Man of the Moon !
To the lines cited above, the fair poetess annexes an explanatory note." It
may, perhaps, be unnecessary to remind the reader of the
story of Astolpho (as
related by Ariosto) who kindly undertook a voyage to the Moon to recover his
friend's wits; and when he was there, was surprised to find a phial in which
were his own."-It would be entering into too long a disquisition to elucidate
the economy of our sphere; but if I ever write to thee, Christopher, on the
subject of our visitors, I may, perhaps, afford the intelligence here requested.
In a verse I shall now quote, the lively lady makes merry in guessing at my pro-
ceedings during an eclipse.
22.
When the cold earth shall intervene
Thine and the solar orb between,
Dost thou not squint behind the screen,
Man of the Moon ?
And in the concluding lines, she expresses a wish, which was not realized,
and I am sure that I have most to deplore that it was not.
23.
With thee to roam through liquid skies,
Where love, 'tis whisper'd, never dies,
How blest, as Cynthia, would I rise,
Man of the Moon!
24.
But if, in love and friendship sweet,
On earth congenial spirits meet,
Soon may I see thee at my feet,
Man of the Moon !
Those who are not much in the way of fashion to be sure, yet not altogether
receiving favours put a great (perhaps deserving of the slights I have expe-
an undue) value on them, when they rienced, I cannot say I shall be sorry
are kindly offered. I hope, however, for it. My modesty will not be shocka
that the intrinsic value of the style in ed, if I should see myself alluded to
which the one above, so prettily be- more frequently, either in prose or in
stowed on me, is conveyed, will induce verse. But I am arrived at the end of
thy admirers, most popular Christo- my paper-and, perchance, Christo-
pher, to look upon it with an eye of be- pher, of thy patience too-be this so
nignity;--and if the poem should have or not, I subscribe myself thine,
the effect of giving a hint that I am a
personage, though rather gone out of
THE MAN IN THE MOON.
2


16
[April,
Revery in the Garden of Plunts.
LETTER TO THE EDITOR,
Inclosing Revery in the Garden of Plants ; with Ode, written in the Cemetery
of Pere La Chaise, at Paris.
MR EDITOR,
You will no doubt be wondering who wrote this, and why it was sent to
you, and wherefore the person who sent it did not tell you who he is, and so
forth.
But I will soon explain all this to you. With regard to the why, I will tell
you plainly, that it was sent for the amusement of your readers ;-as to the who,
the writer would not permit me to tell his name ;-and for the wherefore, I
durst not, until I know how you like the pieces, not being permitted to send
them on any other terms.
The truth is, they were composed by my particular friend, (of whom I am
very fond, and so is he of me; but you need not say any thing of this,) who
is apt to indulge in reveries, making verses, and such trumpery; but who, so
far from having any inclination hitherto to have any of them printed, scarce-
ly even writes them. However, finding these upon subjects that might inte-
rest, or at least amuse some of your readers, I have prevailed with him to let
me send them to you, for the purpose of being inserted in your Magazine, should
it please you to do so. And to prove to you how very disinterested he is, and
how very little he thinks of either praise or blame in these said reveries of his,
I will here give you the copy of a song, which I snatched from him one even-
ing as he came home from viewing the setting-sun “ descending on his glorious
cloudy throne,” as he expresses it. This will let you know better his manner
of thinking than any thing I can tell you.
My lonely silent thought
I would not sell
For all the brilliant glory bought
By deeds of arms,
Or all that fame can tell
Of pageantry's alluring charms.
Nature, divinely drest
In rich attire,
Wakes, with her music, in the breast
A softer glow,
And makes the soul respire
A purer bliss than all below.
Fame cannot yield me joy ;
Her trump may sound
For who her fickle breath employ
To spread their praise ;
I only hope that, crown'd
With peace, will end my humble days.
Ah! when I must expire,
Beside a grove
Could I be laid to see retire
Sol's parting ray!
Alone with her I love,
In nature's hymns to sigh my soul away!
way,
You see, Mr Editor, that this song is somewhat extravagant in its and
seems to indicate an excessive attachment to natural scenes, not very common
to those who have spent the greater part of their time in towns. I think the
mechanism of it is also more complicated than that of our songs generally is,
though it does not appear less smooth on that account. However, as I seldom
sing, and may be mistaken, I leave this to your better knowledge.
And I am, Sir,
Your very humble servant,
AMICUS.
P. S.-Should this please you, it is possible I may induce my friend to let
me send you some more of his scribbles.


1821.]
17
Revery in the Garden of Plants.
A REVERY IN THE GARDEN OF PLANTS;
WITH AN ODE, WRITTEN IN THE CEMETERY OF PERE LA CHAISE,
AT PARIS.
THESE miry streets, enclosed by centre, spread here some tiny frag-
gloomy walls and towering houses, ments of their tops to gratify our won-
chase every pleasant thought away. dering gaze. The metals, crystallized
I'll enter into this garden, or rather, in combination with the powerful acids,
into this store-house of nature. Here present in groups and clusters their va-
every thing seems to be collected that rious forms and hues, that mock the
can please the eye, or gratify the ima- power of art, and set it at defiance.
gination. These pleasant walks, with There, preserved in alcohol, or hang-
overarching trees, that yield delight- ing pendant from the roof or walls, the
fal shade and shelter against the sum- deadly serpent is displayed, of every
mer sun and winter blast, seem to in race or tribe; from that small asp,
vite the studious and the melancholy whose deadly chilling venom froze the
to contemplation and wild revery.- warm, voluptuous stream that flowed
| Here inhabits every plant that springs in Cleopatra's veins, to the horrific
from nature's bosom,- from the lofty, boa, that, undaunted, with proud and
towering cedar, that lifts his head, and daring crest, waged single war against
spreads out his arms in glorious ma a Roman army. Though harmless and
jesty, scorning alike the winter's blast- innocent, their very figure seems to
ing storm, and the sweet-scented gale chase the stream of life back to its
of spring, even to the humble, modest, source, and fills the mind with horror.
sweet-smelling violet, that spreads a Even the eye, as if sympathetic, refu.
round its unassuming odours, itself ses to be pleased with brilliant colours
unseen ;-so humble and obscure vir- attached to a form that inspires terror
tue sheds around her happiness and to the mind, and moves the heart with
peace, though, unobtrusive, often un unutterable disgust.
perceived.
The finny race display their various
No care is wanting bere. The hardy wondrous forms beside them. The
plant of Europe breathes free its na mighty trackless wave, the deep abyss,
tive air; the tender, delicate plant of and ocean's thousand caves, give up
African, or Indian soil, rejoices in the their gregarious or solitary inhabitants,
agreeable climate of the hot-house. that nothing may be wanting to com-
Even the aquatic plants here spread, plete this assemblage. Here they are
and wind, and twine, in seeming con- all, formed for attack, defence, or flight,
fusion, in their natural element, pre- according to their various natures and
senting to innumerable insects a hu- their uses. Some winged, quit for
mid couch and tender nourishment. a momentary space their native ele-
But that cabinet contains within its ment; some spread their little sail up-
precious walls a still more rare assem on the glassy surface of the wave, and
blage of wonders. There the black wanton sport along, when zephyr's
roleanic rocks display their regular mildest breath scarce ripples o’er the
pristnatic forms to the astonished vul- deep; others sit, chained upon their
gar, and discriminating sage, and ask native rock, scarcely endowed with mo-
investigation. Here are the various tion or with life, and finish their ex-
petrifactions,—there, the common, the istence where it began ; whilst others,
rare, and precious crystals present them- impelled by their organic locomotion,
selves in systematic order, shining in or eager sport, or ravenous desire, move
native splendour, pure, and unsullied unimpeded through the mighty deep,
from the womb of nature,-she seems outstripping the velocity of Indian ships
to have formed them in her freaks, moving before the constant winds that
to gratify herself alone. The hand of fill their crowded sails. Their forms,
art has likewise here been busy,—these or round, or flat, or smooth, or prick-
brilliant agates testify its power. There ly, are all with regularity arranged,
are the various marbles, earths, and according to their race, or tribe, or fa-
stones.—The primitive rocks, whose mily.
mighty columns of four thousand miles The monkey world attracts our cu«
rest on the dark profound of nature's rious eye. Though dead, and silent,


18
Revery in the Garden of Plants.
[April,
and motionless, their various attitudes seated side by side, seem not to have
are so well feigned, that yet they seem forgot that they were chosen by the
to play their imitative tricks, and gaze queen of love to represent her amo-
on us with a malignant sneer, as though rous dalliance; though not more ten-
they scorned the second place in ani- der, faithful more than she. The hal-
mated nature. But this is not doubt- cyon here, betokening happy days, dis-
ful, their place is fixed; ye doubting plays his beauty. The ostrich, strong-
philosophers, we ask not your opinion: est of the feathered race, and fleetest
we have a monitor within our bosoms, in the course of all that timid fly or
a brilliant spark of ever-living fire, that bold pursue, displays those plumes
lights the way to everlasting truth. that have so long time waved upon the
Now fierce, as if in life, the monarch warrior's crest, and lent a grace to
of the woods darts his appalling glare ; heighten female charms. The stock-
and near him the ferocious tiger seems dove seems to coo his plaintive note;
to breathe unutterable rage over the and, seated on his branch, with eleva-
bleeding tender fawn, yet struggling ted bill, the charming nightingale, the
in the pangs of parting life. The polar prince of song, seems yet to challenge
bear, the fierce hyæna, and the rave- ocean, earth,
and air, to imitate his
nous wolf, seem all to live, and gnash lovely plaintive strain, that lulls the
their horrid jaws at the beholders, feathered nations to repose--that steals
as though they could not brook delay. delightful on the charmed ear, inspi-
The elephant stands there, strongest ring dreams of bliss. That charming
of animals, the glory and the strength gentle bird, that dwells so much upon
of Indian kings. Beside the sleek the wing, seems a fit habitant for pa-
Arabian, stands the small Tartar horse, radisian groves, wherein to build its
with shaggy coat; hither he travelled happy nest, and sip the essence of am-
from the Ural mountains, bearing his brosial dews. The lofty bird of Jove
quivered warrior to the fight, through looks round him with audacious eye,
heaps of slain, and rivers tinged with holding the innocent lamb beneath his
blood, stunned with the thunder of claw, as though secure that none dare
contending nations; the way was much come to rob him of his prey. But
too distant to return, he could no long- why this
particularity? Nor space, nor
er fight, and so he gave himself to length of days, has scarcely been suffi-
science. The other animals, or wild cient to keep the rarities of nature
or tame, or fleet or slow, have all their from this abode of wonders. There, a
place, their forms and attitudes, as na- few feathers, tied together, seem more
ture made them in their native climes. sacred than the rest. What are they?
The world has been ransacked from What virtue can there be in a handful
utmost oriental isles, to where the An- of feathers ? Why they are nothing
des heaves his lofty head to gaze alone less than feathers of the Ibis,—the
upon Aurora's blushes, while yet the sacred Ibis, from the land of Egypt,-
lower world lies wrapped in sleep; from that worshipper of every beast and bird,
Terra Australis to the frozen Pole, ravished from the chambers of the si-
where nature, laid in chains, denies lent tomb, where light had never pe-
existence to organic being.
netrated until four thousand years had
The many-peopled air has sent her rolled away. Four thousand years!
delegates to this assembly, from all her By this amazing flood of days, how
nations, families, and tribes. Their many cities, with their people, and
ranks are full and overflowing. Of all their sacred shrines,-even nations,
that mount on bold and daring, on ti- with their impotent and lying Gods,
morous or tardy wing, here sits the have been swept down into the awful
representative to answer for his race. ocean of oblivion !
The travelling swallow seems, in its The insect nations are not here ne-
native language, to talk of foreign glected, though some of them so small
lands, and long fatiguing flights; the the visual orb scarce deigns to recog-
lively wren, just springing from the nize them. Shells too, of every kind,
twig, presents a picture of animation. are here, common and rare, that deck
The little humming-bird, drest out in the margin of the Indian sea, or Afric's
all the resplendence of those colours burning shores. Our milder climates
first stolen by its ancestors from the furnish their share, nor are Columbia's
rainbow, challenges the artist to imi- shores exempted from the tribute.
tate its hues. The faithful turtles, The provident sagacious bee dwells


1921.]
Revery in the Garden of Plants.
19
ye
here in state; the noisy idle cricket sexual intercourse by, subtile penetra-
dwells beside her: but how unlike each ting dust, lies concealed.
other! The locust, that sad scourge There, too, is traced, and openly dis-
of nations, has quitted his destructive played, through all its secret springs
cecupation. The dragon-fly spreads and deep recesses, the mechanism of
out his double wings, that radiant shine that beautiful, graceful, and noble
with green and gold. The industrious being, man. That man, whose limbs
silk-worm, that, like the careful bee, at once combine both strength and
labours for creation's lord, is seen be- grace; whose expressive visage dis-
side the gaudy butterfly, and foolish plays his penetrating, lofty, soaring
moth, the silly moth, that flutters soul, that scorns the narrow bounds
round the flame, with many a turn and of space and time, marks him the image
wheel, nor can perceive the danger un- of his great Creator, and lord of all be
til it is consumed! Attracted by the low. And you too, tender, soft, en-
glare of regal pomp, what are you bet- dearing woman, his better half; whose
ter, vain ambitious man, who headlong bosom heaves with warm benevolence,
drive to join the splendid blaze? It whose modest love, and animating.
only brighter shines in fierce combus. smile, inspire him to deeds of valour
tion, and you are quite extinguished and of fame; nurse of his tottering old
by its beams.
age and tender infancy, the partner of
The gloomy bull, and savage buffalo his cares, hope of his youth, and foun-
together stand, with stern defiance tain whence his purest pleasure flows.
graven on their front: and, over all Why do you ever wear the face of sada
these children of nature, great and ness! or, like the siren, smile but to
small, the mild giraffe raises aloft his deceive !
towering front, and seems to gaze across Say then, ye sages,
after
have
his native plains.
traced each bone, tendon, and nerve,
But is this all, this house of wonders? and named them all, and pointed out
No; yonder stands another, where their uses, where dwells the soul ?
patare, stript of all her ornaments, her How does she impress her arbitrary
gaudy clothing, and her pleasing forms, commands, that are, and must be
shows only naked bones, and monstrous obeyed ? How can pure and immate-
shapes that chill the mind with horror. rial being act upon matter gross, im-
That tawny beauty from Cafrarian land, pure? I find you cannot answer this,
here finishes her travels and her shame; or answering, only shew how extra-
nor needs she now a silken veil to cover vagant and vain are all your wild con-
what her vile possessor only wished to jectures. Employ your wisdom then
show. There stands the assassin, un on mortal things, to heal our wounds,
der whose ruthless dagger the celebra- to lessen mortal woe, and leave the
tad Kleber closed his eyes ; his high rest to worlds beyond the grave.
enthusiasm for his country brooked not This iron railing, and that little
to let escape even one solitary sigh to grove that skirts the margin of that
gratify the ear of his cruel tormentors. hollow pool, yield a protection and so-
There other ghastly shapes of animals lace to these winged prisoners. The
and men, avariciously withheld by garrulous duck, the sea-gull, and the
gtasping science from the craving tomb, diver, or press the rapid race, or
and those unseemly, hideous abortions founce along, or in an instant disap-
of nature, that never were intended to pear, then, rising quickly to the sur-
look upon the sacred light of day, are face, flap their oily wings, and in
there preserved, to gratify the view of their eager sport seem to forget they
prying wisdom, or the empty gaze of are no longer free. The bold majes-
idle folly : folly that looks with equal tic swan, arrayed in virgin white,
unconcern on nature's beautiful and spotless and pure, sails proudly for-
frightful things.
ward like a barge of state, looks with
Here are the halls of wisdom, where contempt upon these petty crew pad-
science keeps her court; where every dling around him ; half raising up his
tree, and shrub, and animating odori- wings, and giving to his neck a better
ferous flower, and microscopic plant, curve, he seems to swell with pride and
are carefully explained to all who self-complacency. Some in the grove
choose to hear. And, not an opening or on the margin of the lake repose.
bud, or fibre, colour, or shade, or The slender peacock walks amongst
VOL. IX.
с


20
Revery in the Garden of Plants.
[April,
them. Then, after kindly billing with rible he is when
roused. Near him
his spouse, he raises up his splendid the bear plays off his clumsy tricks :
circling fan, the most magnificent the he gently tumbles down upon his
universe can boast, observes it with an back, and grasps his hinder paws, and
eye that sparkles with delight, looks at mounting on his pole up to the very
it, looks again, then shakes his wings, top, stands like a mighty lubber look-
and screeches out his hoarse repulsive ing round to find applause ; then, slow
note to testify his ecstacy of pleasure. and cautiously descending, after he
Yonder sits the raven, that sad por- has reached the ground, he drags along
tentous bird, and croaks his frightful his great unwieldy bulk, and like some
note, foreboding woes to come: the petty lap-dog, sits him down with arms
mighty vulture hears the welcome extended wide, and gaping jaws, to
sound, looks round with eyes of flame, catch the little morsel he has earned.
and sharps his claws preparing for How mild and docile he seems ! and
the prey. The chattering jay, the yet he pardoned not the daring soldier
screeching parrot, and the siren linnet, who went into his den for love of gain.
mind not these ominous forebodings. That loud tremendous roar of Af-
The winking stupid owl, that hates ric's brindled lion, mixed with the
the light of day, sits solitary sighing yelping of the eager fox, and howling
for the moon. The powerful falcon of the hungry, discontented wolf,
sits upon his perch, lively, as though thrills on the vital chords that touch
prepared to wing his airy course after the heart, inspiring terror. How aw-
the rapid whirls of flying partridge, or ful, were it heard on Afric's burning
hasty timorous hare.
plains, rousing the weary traveller from
These small inclosures all have their his short repose, with humid brow,
inhabitants. Some browse upon their with parched and trembling lip, with
native herbs, and find solace under burning veins and hollow languid eye,
those trees that grow spontaneous on without a shelter or the means of
their native plains, or shady wave up- flight! though here it is harmless and
on their mountain tops.
innocent as the bleating of the lamb,
There grazes at his ease the noble the troubled air forgets not to perform
stag, and spreads the branchy honours her functions in giving notice of the
of his head; here dwells the feet, the dreadful sound.
gentle, timid, mountain roe, that seems But let me have one glimpse of these
to have forgot its Alpine solitudes, and terrific forms, whose awful voice makes
flies no longer from the face of man. animated nature tremble. The rest-
The audacious goat presents his horny less leopard walks from side to side,
head, and learns the little ones to butt shows his spotted clothing, then stops
and play. The sheep, of various races, short, and sets his piercing eyes, and
various lands, like travellers in their squats him down as though prepared
native costume, here appear. This to take the murderous spring. No;
comes from where the overflowing children, do not fly, there is no dan-
Nile rolls over his slimy bed his thou- ger; these bars would hold him though
sand waves, backward beating the sea his powerful muscles were strong
with such recoil, that Neptune's eme- enough to raise him to the clouds.
rald throne owns for a moment the The porcupine embattled sits encir-
tremendous shock. The other owns cled with his spears, ready at once for
a far more distant land: his fathers close attack or distant missile war.
dwelt where Africa presents, in proud The rest, except that grumbling fierce
disdain, a towering barrier to the hyæna, are hushed in silence. What
Southern Ocean; and spreads a table cannot time and human art perform !
high and broad, where all the Gods Look how that mighty lion, with
that on Olympus dwelt, or wild ima- horrid shaggy mane and outstretched
gination ever knew, might feast and paws, lies slumbering in his den, and
revel in licentious mood, nor want suf- in his bosom fearless lies the dog :
man's mightiest enemy, and kindest
Within that hollow den the tusky truest friend of all the animals in na-
boar lives with his family ; he wallows ture's wide domain, united in the cor-
in the mire, like all his filthy race, to dial bonds of peace.
cool his burning skin, then shakes him What is this ticket larger than the
self, displays his horrid teeth, and others that bear the names of all these
bristles up his mane, to show how ter- plants ? “ These Medicinal Plants are
ficient space.


1891.)
Revery in the Garden of Plants.
21
cultivated here for the use of the Poor.” walls, that tell no tales of sufferings or
This is good indeed! In this immense crimes. No miserable wretch is now
profusion of nature's stores and rari- dividing his small pittance with the
ties, bow kind to think but for a mo- mice, in kind 'return for their welcome
nent of the poor! How few in this company: No lonely sorrowing soul,
wide world of pride, of tyranny, of within his solitary loathsome dungeon,
grasping avaricious selfishuess, think obliged to spend his weary lingering
of the sorrows of the suffering poor! days in training spiders on the dusty
who, swelling in their gorgeous shows walls, to keep the mind from losing all
of state, groaning beneath the burthen its powers, or bursting into madness.
of their wealth, the produce of the poor How well for man were all these dread-
man's sweat, and labour of his hands, ful ills banished for ever from our mor-
dare think at all of such a despicable tal sphere, to visit it no more! But ty-
being? Yet there are some who sce with · rants still will reign, by whatsoever
purer light, who see that men are equal name they may be called; and suffer-
in their nature and their rights; that ing humanity still will weep, and give
those who enjoy a brighter intellect or its plaintive murmurs to the winds,
more liberal fortune, must use their that dare not whisper them too loud on
influence to make men happy, or be the oppressor's ear, because he is en-
anjast. And could you, laurelled Blu- gaged, and must not be disturbed.
cher, think but for a moment, to place Here is a funeral ; come, let me fol-
your lawless army on this sacred spot! low it to where the wicked cease from
Alas, your laurels here had perished troubling. How few the mourners are!
like opening buds before the northern and even those few do not seem sad.
blast! Here wisdom has laid up her They only wear the garb of sorrow.
stores, here sages long have toiled, and Perhaps the departed was poor, or little
bright persuasive eloquence has flowed known, or useless to society. Perhaps
to spread the light of science over the he was a stranger; like me, a poor ne-
world.
glected solitary stranger, a lonely wan-
There, keeper, take your fee, and derer in a foreign land ; deprived of all
let me pass the bridge of Austerlity. the ties of blood, and claims of friend-
It has no fault except the name. ship, that sweeten social life, that fond-
Strange, must it for ever be, that ly try to throw a veil upon our errors,
one man's honour is another's shame! and eagerly attempt to render less se-
Brust these proud monuments of one vere the rugged gloomy passage to the
nation's glory be raised to throw dis- tomb. Perhaps he was—but no, no
grace upon another? Where is the me- more; conjectures here are vain : the
rit, if we can only boast the weakness, Cemetery of Pere lu Chuise presents a
or the crimes, or the mistakes of our place of rest and silence to the benight-
opponents in the race of fame and strifeed pilgrim, to whom all other cares are
for empire? I fear the merit is but now superfluous. The narrow house
small on either side. For he who loses now opens to receive its new inhabi-
lays the blame on fate; and he who tant. Our mother earth, like a kind
gains applauds himself, his well-laid parent, receives again her weary child
schemes, and daring execution. So thus into her lap, and spreads aro nd his
alternately we own free will and fate, head such solemn stillness, that burst-
aceording as they suit our purpose. ing worlds might roar in wild convul-
There, there is the place where stood sive thunders round his bed, without
that dreadful pile that frowned on infringing on his deep repose. Yes;
groaning France, unable to sustain the here is one friend still left. See how
load of slavery. But Liberty once rouse that spaniel leaps into the grave, and
ed_0 glorious Liberty ! the Bastile will not quit his master. Menaces are
sunk a mass of ruins, and all her not enough ; he will not stir: he must
dungeons, dark resounding cells, and be torn out by force. The grave is
clanking chains, and sounds of woe, closed, and yet he will not quit it. He
ceased to exist for ever. No man now scrapes away the earth, and mourns
with an iron mask is there complain- with such a lamentable voice, he almost
ing of the cruelty of his inexorable ty- nakes me weep. Now, though bound,
rants, who, not content to rob him of and drawn away by force, he still looks
his liberty, permitted not even his visage back with eager eye upon the spot.
to be seen, except by dark and gloomy What strange fidelity is this ! It seems


22
Revery in the Garden of Plants.
[April,
beyond the powers of instinet. I do First Cause, and down again to the
not understand it. I leave it then to smallest atoms of uninformed matter.
you, ye mighty reasoners, who count, This place is singular; I feel oppress-
or think you count, the links of that ed with reverential awe, and mournful
infinite chain, from man up to the great thoughts that crowd upon my soul.
ODE WRITTEN IN THE CEMETERY OP PERE LA CHAISE.
The evening mild, the sky serene, A mother's hope, a mother's woe;
The zephyrs through these poplars whis Reft of her last sad hold to life-her child,
pering low,
And, like a reed amid the show,
And all around this solemn scene
Bending beneath the storms of winter
That gives the mind a melancholy glow, wild.
My weary, wandering steps retain, Real, undisguised affliction here,
Where peace, and rest, and silence reign. Sheds on the grave a bitter tear.
Declining nature feels decay,
That sculptured figure seems to weep,
Touch'd by October's ever-withering In graceful attitude of studied grief
hand;
Watching a husband's final sleep;
Her fruits, her flowers, her foliage gay, But giided sorrows often find relief
That Spring disclosed, and Summer saw Where graves must never spread alarms,
expand,
To wound a youthful widow's charms.
She sheds, and soon her smiling face
What dost thou here, imperious pride ?
Turns pale in Winter's cold embrace.
Must then the virtues of the dead be told
Paris, expanded to the eye,
In this abode where worms reside
Her barriers wide and palaces displays; And reign supreme, in letters writ with
Her lofty towers that kiss the sky,
gold?
Receive the tribute of a parting blaze, No pious rites thy.labours crave
Ere yet the sinking sun retires
To gild the borders of the grave.
To western worlds with all his fires.
Death mocks thy care, and scorns thy rage;
Paris, thou type of ancient Rome,
He clips ambition's wing, and lays him
Thou haughty queen of arts and nurse
low;
of war,
Gathers the spoils of age to age,
In thee bright science finds a home,
Heaps up confused the wreck of friend
Youth enveloped in clouds, a leading star, and foe,
Whose rays the mystic paths explore And from amid the ruins high
Of wondrous worlds unknown before. He throws his dart, and nations die.
In thee the gamester dwells secure; What marble tomb attracts my view,
Venus, led by the dance, the song, the That seems to scorn the wasting hand of
lyre,
time,
Unblushing vends her joys impure, Bearing its sculptured honours new,
And many virtues in her arms expire: And solid pyramidal front sublime ?
But here no more her incense burns Ah! is Massena then no more,
Midst graves and monumental urns. His sword then sheathed, his battles o'er ?
Paris, behold thy kindred dust !
And so thou scaled the Alps, and bore
Here poets, heroes, friends, and lovers Terror and ruin o'er Italia's plains,
sleep.
Saw proud Germania drunk with gore,
Canst thou a tear spare for the just ? And trembling Lusitania dread thy
Or hast thou charged the stone for thee to
chains :
For what ? to hide thee here, and never
And taught with care the doleful yew Wake more the voice of war for ever.
To bear thy sorrows ever new ?
Here, too, THE BRAVEST OF THE BRAVE
Here sleeps Delille, his harp at rest:
Les low, wrapp'din obscurity and shame;
There Heloisa, with her sage of yore,
No flower breathes fragrance o'er his grave,
Their loves rejoin'd, their wrongs redrest, Nor.simplest monument relates his name:
By envy's poison'd shafts assaild no He rose, he shone, his course was bright
As meteor's glare on brow of night.
Oppression here in vain would try
To draw a tear or force a sigh.
What sound is that I hear the sigh
Plaintiveit seems of some departed shade:
That little cross, that snow-white rose, Ah no! look there ; the smother'd cry
Emblem of virtue, innocence, and youth, Yet heaves the bosom of that love-sick
Tell where the mortal spoils repose,
maid.
Of beauty adorn'd by piety and truth: See how, convulsed, her tender heart
A simple tomb! but want could spare Laments its better, dearer part.
No more to tell a mother's care,
#
weep?
1
more.


24
Memoirs of Poussin.
[April,
various objects of art and nature. We purely historical, it was not necessary,
wish to direct the attention of the stu- and probably would have been impro-
dent merely to a deep study of his per, to have introduced into his com-
works, to the principles on which they positions the ideal forms and lofty con-
are composed, and above all to the di- ceptions of Raphael and Michael An-
ligence and patient perseverance which, gelo. Poussin has been called the
under circumstances of peculiar dif- ** Painter of Philosophers.” He might
ficulty, enabled him finally to triumph have been designated with more truth
over the various obstacles, by which ca The Painter of Propriety. He did not
price, bad taste, and malevolence, at fix his standard on the highest pinacle
tempted to arrest his course. Those art- of art, but having selected a more hum-
ists who are anxious to acquire the ge- ble station, it is his great praise that
neral rudiments of art, will derive one he accomplished more completely, than
great advantage from serious reflection almost any other artist, the objects
on the works and example of Poussin- which it was his ambition to attain.
whatever they may acquire from him from his earliest years he appears to
may be considered as real guin, for they have been blessed with a calm philoso-
will at least have nothing of it to un- phical mind, free from strong passions,
learn in their after progress. His style but replete with energy, and with an
indeed does not abound with many of amiable and contented disposition,
those captivating graces which distin- which enabled him to live in amnity
guish the Flemish, Venetian, and some with his fellow men, to circumscribe
other schools ; but it is founded on the his wants, and to concentrate the whole
solid basis of industry and nature, and force of his mind upon his professional
is admirably adapted to restrain, with- pursuits. These rare endowments ap-
in due bounds, the exuberance and im- pear at an early age to have afforded
patience of the youthful mind, always him an almost intuitive power of dis-
prone to catch at every faithless guide, covering that line of art best suited
whose flowery path allures by its faci- to his capacity, from the strength and
lity, and the hope of gaining a shorter simplicity of which he was never led
and more pleasurable road to excel- aside, either by the blandishments of
lence. Warmly, however, as we ad- colouring and effect, or the more dig-
mire the works of Poussin, and sincere- nified attractions of the highest depart-
ly as we respect his memory, we hope ments of painting. From the study of
we shall not be suspected, from any the works of almost every artist of emi-
thing we have said, of a wish to over nence, he appears indeed to have ob-
rate his talents and genius, by placing tained occasionally useful hints, which
them on a level with the far mightier he dexterously interwove with his own
powers of Angelo, Raphael, and some peculiar style, but without in the
others of the great Italian masters; slightest degree diminishing its origi-
we are viewing him, in the present in- nality. His pictures, with the excep-
stance, more in the light of a safe in- tion of those of a very few distinguish-
structor of genius, than as possessing ed artists, possess greater uvison, in
first rate genius himself, and we to their respective parts, than the produc-
tally disagree with Mrs Grahain in tions of any other painter. Whether
thinking that his works at all prove his subject partook of the “
that “grandeur of thought and design, lively, or severe,” he uniformly made it
expression and correctness, are inde- his successful care not to impair the
pendent on the size of the canvas on general character, that ought to pervade
which he was to work." The fact is, if the whole, by the introduction of ex-
we except correctness, few pictures of traneous or inconsistent matter. Per-
Poussin possess any of these qualities haps he occasionally carried this prin-
in an eminent degree. His landscapes ciple too far ; when, with a view of
undoubtedly shew, in many instances, giving his picture locality and an air
considerable grandeur of thought and of antiquity, he has been led, as in his
design; but in the great mass of his exposing of Moses, into anachronisms,
historical compositions, few of his in- for which his greatest admirers find it
dividual figures rise above common na difficult to assign an excuse.
ture; and perhaps, in the majority of We perfectly agree with our author-
his subjects, and in the walk of art ess and Sir Joshua Reynolds, in think-
which he followed, for the most part ing that Poussin's genius is displayed
gay, the
8


1821.]
Memoirs of Poussin.
25
ven.
to the greatest advantage when em- themselves alone, for any one who has
ployed upon subjects taken from the the capacity to understand their great
ales and bacchanalian fables of the and various merit, and courage enough
ancient authors. In these luxurious to persevere in his principles of study.
sænes, his imagination seems to “wan- Poussin's forms, in both sexes, seldom,
ton at will." His nymphs, satyrs, and if ever, rise above common nature.
bacchanals are the very natives of the The countenances of his women are
Foods and wilds described in classic rarely beautiful, and their expression
story,—nothing reminds us of civiliza- not unfrequently partakes, too largely,
tion, or of modern customs and man- of the affectation and grimace of his
ners. The whole scene is jollity, ani- own countrywomen, to harmonize with
mation, and liberty, while the excel- the antique and philosophical cast of
lent and appropriate landscapes, which many of his serious subjects. Perhaps,
he uniformly introduces in his back. too, in some of his compositions, he
grounds, give a charm, and a classical falls under the censure which our au.
truth to the representation, which is thoress has passed, somewhat justly,
perhaps not to be met with in the works upon many of our English artists;
of any other artist in similar subjects. though she assigns a reason for their
Rubens and Julio Romano in stories of practice which cannot apply to Poussin.
this nature, may possibly have display. “Hitherto, with the exception of very
ed in their figures equal, if not supe- few instances, our English artists have
rior, genius ; but they are frequently been too much a people by themselves.
so grossly indelicate and licentious, that If they look to nature for action or ex-
the spectator turns from their produc- pression, it is to the exaggerated action
tions with horror. The good taste and and expression of the stage, or the
refinement of Poussin, preserved him mean and sordid action and expression
from falling into such inexcusable of vulgar life, that they have been dri-
faults, and render his pictures gene Hence, in part, the failure in
rally unexceptionable, in subjects even most of our historical pictures ; exag-
where there exists the greatest danger geration on the one hand, and want of
of violating propriety. His serious sub- dignity on the other.” P. 23. It must,
jects, from profane and sacred history, however, be acknowledged, that several
discover the profound knowledge he of Poussin's best works are quiteexempt
possessed of the principles of his art. from the charge of theatrical effect,
İn no one of its departments can he be though, speaking generally of them,
aid to be greatly defective; for though we think he has not altogether escaped
his colour is often dark and crude, and the contagion of the French school,
sometimes offensively so, yet many which, from its first establishment
brilliant exceptions occur in his works, down to the present day, has been
in which it is not only light and har- uniformly marked by a mean servility
monious, but admirably adapted to the to fashion and theatrical pageantry, to
subject. It is, indeed, very difficult to the total exclusion nearly of elevated
account for this singular inequality, thought, and of the simple and gene-
which is too apparent in the works of ral principles of nature. This being
Poussin, to escape the observation of the case, it is not surprising that Pous-
the most careless observer. In land- sin should have reached his 45th year
scape, his tones and colouring are al- before he was called to any employment
nost invariably excellent, and we can, in his native country worthy of his
therefore, scarcely attribute to a defect great talents, or that, during his stay,
of age, this strange disregard of every his life should have been embittered,
principle of colour, which occasionally and all his plans thwarted, by the in-
injuresand disfigures his happiest com- trigues, thejealousies, and cabals which
positions. In all other respects he must finally drove him out of France. It
be considered as an artist of a superior, is really melancholy to follow Mrs
if not of the highest, order. His style, Graham in her detail of the many vex-
indeed, does not admit of the daring atious circumstances, and petty perse-
fights of the Florentine and Roman cutions, which assailed this great and
schools ; but, as far as it goes, it com excellent man during what may almost
bides a greater number of excellencies, be denominated his exile in his native
with fewer defects, than that of most land.--"They employ me," says Pous-
other painters. His works and example sin, "for ever in trifles, such as fron-
may be regarded as an academy in tispieces for books, designs for orna-
}
2


26
Memoirs of Poussin.
[April,
mental cabinets, chimney-pieces, bind- irksome a scene for the calm and dig-
ings for books, and other nonsense. nified quiet that awaited his arrival at
Sometimes, indeed, they propose grande Rome, and which it was his good for-
er subjects ; but, fair words butter no tune to enjoy, undisturbed, through-
parsnips !"And again ;-" I assure out the remainder of his distinguish-
you, that if I stay long in this country, ed and honourable life. To the Me-
Í must turn dauber like the rest here; moirs, our authoress has added two
as to study and observation, either of dialogues by Fenelon on two of Pous-
the antique or any thing else, they are sin's pictures, together with a cata-
unknown ; and whoever wishes to stu- logue of his principal paintings. The
dy or excel must go far from hence." latter is a valuable and useful addition
-"I am now at work upon the pic- to the work: as to the former, they
ture for the noviciate of the Jesuits; might have been very well spared; they
it is very large, containing fourteen do not contain an accurate “descrip-
figures larger than nature, and this tion" even of the pictures which it was
they want me to finish in two months.” the author's intention to have criticie
To a mind constituted like Poussin's, sed.
we can conceive nothing more insup Upon the whole, however, we have
portable than this eternal whirl of hur received much pleasure and instruc-
ry, impertinence, and frivolity; nor tion from Mrs Grahamn's book, and have
ought it to be wondered at, that, so cir- no hesitation in recommending it to
cumstanced, he should have felt eager, the attention of artists, and to the ge-
in spite of the royal favour, to quit so nerality of our readers.
ON TITE CULTIVATION AND PATRONAGE OF BRITISH ART.
Letter First.
Sir,
accomplishment of my hopes. Having
The fine arts are, unquestionably, explained to him the purpose of my vi-
among the sources of happiness which sit, I produced several specimens of my
it was the gracious intention of Provi- son's abilities in drawing, in painting,
dence that man should possess ; and and also, in order to shew the strength
therefore we are bound to believe that, and fertility of his imagination, several
as genius is one of the inost precious attempts in original composition. He
gifts of Heaven, it is a duty religiously appeared to be much pleased ; acknow-
incumbent on those to whom it has ledged they contained incontestible evi-
been imparted, or who are entrusted dence of very superior endowments, and
with its early direction, to see that the entirely concurred with me in thinking,
divine present be neither lost by a to- that, with due cultivation, aided, as he
tal neglect of timely cultivation, nor expressed it," with such advantages
wasted by the misapplication of its as were necessary to their complete de-
wonderful powers. As the opinions of velopement and full effect,” the result
men of high reputation in the arts on must be honourable to himself and his
this important subject, must be allow- country.
ed to have great weight, perhaps what Delighted and encouraged with the
I have now to communicate, may not favourable issue of this examination, I
be unworthy of attention.
took the liberty to request the obliging
It is my good fortune, Mr Editor, to professor to tell me briefly what course
have a son who has been thus favour- he would advise us to take, and parti-
ed, being possessed of talents, which, cularly what should be our first steps,
if carefully cultivated, would, I have that future success might not be en-
no doubt, ensure to him a name among dangered by an injudicious commence-
the most distinguished artists of this, ment. That I will do,' said he,
or, I will not scruple to say, of any “ with pleasure, and I account myself
other country. Under this conviction, fortunate in the opportunity you afford
and urged by the entreaties of my dear me to be useful to you and your inge-
boy, I lately applied to an Artist of emi- nious son, in a concern of such impor-
nence to request the favour of his ad- tance. Much,"continued he, “depends
vice, as to the most prudent mode of on early impressions: let him therefore
proceeding, so as to make sure of the have the benefit of the best advice at


1821.] On the Cultivation and Patronage of British Art.
27
his outset ; for by which, not only those, I trust, it will be his endeavour
much good will be done, but much to equal, and, if possible, to excel.”
harm prevented. I trust the young “ Such desires,” said he, " are no evi.
gentleman has been liberally educa- dence of presumption; they are natu-
ted?” “Sir," said I,“ most liberal- ral, and what is more, they are wise.
ly. In his education, no expence or Whoever does not propose to attain the
trouble has been spared on my part, summit of Parnassus, will never reach
Dor application on his. He is familiar the mid-way. It would be cruel in
with ancient literature, and Homer is fortune not to reward as richly as they
his idol.” “ You have done well, sir,” deserve, talents so promising, and am-
said he, “ in storing his mind with the bition so laudable. The Royal Esta-
treasures of ancient lore ; let him not blishment, sir, which I mentioned,
be deficient in the languages of the li- confers honorary tokens-medals of
ring: for in the prosecution of his pro- gold and silver, upon its meritorious
fessional studies, he will have much students ; these your son will doubt-
occasion for the information they con- less receive; they will be a gratifying
tain, as well as the means they afford earnest of his final success ; they will
of general communication.” I assured be gratifying also to you, and moreover
him that these had not been neglect- be a passport into the world : the pub-
ed; and whatever could be done to lic will be prepared to approve the more
improve my son yet more in that spe- mature works of a genius which, in its
cies of knowledge, should certainly not early career, had been honoured by
be omitted.
those who were best able to discover
Continuing the thread of his in- and appreciate its claims. Advancing in
structions, he said, “ Be mindful, as his academical studies, another source
I observed before, that no time be lost of improvement offers in the Greek
in placing the youth under a master marbles of the National Museum, in
of high professional reputation; one which he will find rare examples of
who shall be not less distinguished for beautiful form and beautiful composi-
his genius and good taste, than a sound tion, in the purest taste. Those won-
understanding : for then he will have derful fragments seem to have been
at once the important advantages of preserved expressly for the regenera-
wise instruction, practically illustrated tion of art. The world has nothing in
by the best examples of modern art, at sculpture of equal value.
a time when they will be most effica “We will now suppose your son to
cious. During the early period of his have completed his academical labours;
studies, he will derive great and lasting completed also the stipulated period of
benefits from his access to the schools tuition under the direction of a mas-
of the Royal Academy. In that noble ter, and to have arrived at the com-
Institution he will have an opportuni- mencement of a new course of study,
ty to copy the finest remains of ancient in which, I conclude, you are prepa-
sculpture ; he will have the same fa- red to support him,-i mean his tra-
alities in the study of the human bo- vels on the Continent, in order to be-
dy, from choice examples of living na hold with his own eyes those wonders
ture; he will hear the lectures of the of genius, which he has hitherto only
several Professors on painting, sculp- heard of in the reports of artists, or
ture, and architecture, and in the li- faintly seen in wretched imitations."
brary of that establishment, he will “ It is my determination, sir,” I re-
find books and prints of great value, plied, “not to subject myself to the
whence he will collect a fund of useful reproach of having withheld any thing
ad interesting information on a va that I can command, that shall be re-
riety of subjects connected with his commended by you, as either useful or
main object.- No doubt,” added he, necessary to the honourable termina-
* you intend your son shall pursue the tion of our united endeavours :- for I
art in its highest department—that of consider myself as embarked in the
historical painting?" “ Certainly,”I same vessel with my son ; at the same
replied, “I wish bim-and it is also time, I confess I was not prepared to
his ambition, presumptuous as it may expect such an addition to expences,
sem, to be the rival of Michael An- which, even without it, almost alarm
gelo, and of Raphael ; and if there me with their probable amount. But,
should be others yet more eminent, sir, if travel be necessary, my son shall
Vol. IX.
D


28
On the Cultivation and Patronage of British Art. [April,
certainly be enabled to go wherever in “ On quitting Italy, the university
struction may be found.”
of art, he will not hasten direct to his
“ Sir,” said he, “ the grandeur of native land, but visit the wealth of
mountain scenery cannot be conceived genius treasured up in many a conti-
by those who have not beheld it with nental city. Germany can boast of
their own eyes. The vast expanse of numerous collections that must not be
the ocean produces an effect on the passed unexamined. Belgium, too, may
mind of the actual observer which be proud of its Rembrandt and Reu-
mocks all the powers of description. bens, whose extraordinary productions
Equally inconceivable are the mighty claim the admiration of the world.
productions of Italian genius in times from both of those artists, the judi-
past; and to comprehend truly what cious student will derive much; and
is there shewn to be within the grasp his taste having been purified in high-
of human capacity, nothing short of er schools, he will know at once how
ocular evidence will suffice. It is to separate what is of an exquisite qua-
possible to believe what is extraordi- lity from what is base, and leave those
nary without sensible proof, but such great but dangerous examples, enrich-
credulity has nothing of the life of con- ed by their beauties, and, at the same
viction ; besides, it is the sight, not time, untainted by their faults.
the report of great works, by which we “ Arrived at length in the bosom of
are at once animated and instructed; his much-loved country, he presents
your son, sir, must go and view the himself before a delighted parent, full
stupendous labours of Michael Ange- of gratitude for the innumerable bene-
lo, in the Sestine Chapel ; he must ac- fits which he has received through his
tually behold the enchantments of the means, and eager to prove that the af-
Vatican, and indeed, all that the Im- fection he had experienced, had not
perial City contains of the divine Ra- been unworthily placed.”.
phael, and especially that miracle of Here the artist paused: having, ashe
art, and last of his labours on earth, conceived, fully complied with my re-
the Transfiguration.
quest. I therefore politely expressed
“At Rome, your enraptured sod will my acknowledgments for his great
revel in the luxuries of art; he will kindness, and added, that I hoped, and
quaff the beverage of inspiration, and indeed confidently trusted, he would
lave his faculties in the purest waters have the satisfaction of witnessing the
of genius, issuing from innumerable excellence of his instructions in the
fountains. Although the Pontifical example of my dear son, who should
City will be the chief, it will not be his certainly follow them to the very lets
only school. Naples is rich in art; ter. “But lest I might by any un-
but in the romantic, the grand, and fortunate accident," I added, “ be de-
beautiful scenery of nature, it is, with prived of an opportunity of consulting
its surrounding vicinity, a region of you on his return from the Continent,
wonders. Florence contains many a Í entreat that you will further oblige
gem of purest ray serene;' the con me with your directions as to what
stellation of Bologna must not be view- steps will be most proper for him to
ed by him with a careless eye; the take at his entrance into the world ;
miracles of Corregio at Parma, prove being, it must not be forgotten, hence-
that he was indeed also a painter,' forth destined to subsist by the ho-
though placed side by side with the nourable employment of the talents
most divine of artists. At Mantua he with which Heaven has blessed him."
will be ravished with the pencil of the “ Sir,” said the venerable artist, “ I
energetic Giulio; and at Venice, the have lived long, and I know much of
glorious works of Titian, Tintoretti, art, of artists, and what is more, of the
and Paul Veronese, will at once capti- state of public feeling towards both.
vate and astonish him. Day after day, By this knowledge and experience !
month after month, he will dwell on am happily enabled to give a decided
the gorgeous scene: for there alone he answer to your question, which, rely-
will see the energetic and grand in ing on your good sense and paternal
composition, combined with all that is affection, I am sure will be satisfac-
beautiful and splendid in colour, or tory. You are fully sensible of its im-
powerful and harmonious in light and portance, and therefore, I request your
shade.
serious attention.” I assured him, that,
5


1921.] On the Cultivation and Patronage of British Art.
29
deeply impressed as I was, with the the earth, equally grateful and gene-
kind interest which he took in my con- rous, will liberally reward his talents
cerns, and convinced of the value of his and his toil:-a return which neither
counsel, it was impossible I should be will meet with from the soil on which
either inattentive or ungrateful. “In he was born, with no better implement
the voyage of life," I added, “our ves- of cultivation than his pencil. There,
sel should not only be well prepared, I say, let him dig; there he may get
but well conducted, and also our em- wealth, and honour, and furtherinore,
barkation well timed; you, sir, who he may be the happy parent of sons no
know all the requisites of equipment, less happy than their father: because
know also exactly how to chuse the they will neither be tempted by an un-
fortunate moment of commencement, fortunate ambition to solicit' the re-
the true course, and all that may be wards due to merit, by occupations for
hoped and feared in that perilous na- which they may have no talents, nor
vigation.” “My counsel,” said he, by excellent talents, for which they
“ be assured, shall not fail you.-Lis- will find no occupation.".
ten, sir, I beseech you. Far to the My venerable counsellor now con-
south, where the great Peninsula of cluded; and being suddenly called
Africa projects its lofty cape into the away on other business, he apologized
ocean, at some distance in the interior, and left me to meditate on the “ de-
the provident care of Government has cided answer” he had given to my last
assigned an extensive tract of beauti- question. How far I thought it pru-
ful and fertile land, expressly for the dent to be regulated by his advice, I
tre of citizens under particular cir- shall take an early opportunity to in-
cumstances.—To that far distant re- form you. In the mean time,
gion let your ingenious son, when his I am, Sir, your obedient Servant,
studies in art shall be completed, tran-
A. Z.
sport himself; there let him dig ;
BRITISH ART AND PATRONAGE.
Letter Second.
SIR,
That genius is more or less intimate-
At the close of my former letter, I ly allied to madness, has been long
promised to inform you what steps I imagined ; and although that notion
pursued in consequence of my inter- may be wholly groundless, I confess
view with the venerable person whom the directions I had just received for
I lately consulted, respecting my son's the cultivation of talents, intended for
desire to embrace the profession of an the highest exertions of art, with their
artist. The apparent inconsistency- ultimate application, seemed to coun-
not to say absurdity, of that gentle- tenance the general opinion ; and fear-
mean's final instructions, must, I am ing that the respectable artist whom I
persuaded, have reminded you of the had been consulting, was actually suf-
well-known receipt for dressing a cu- fering under that calamity, I thought
cumber in perfection: the most re- it advisable to try my fortune again,
markable particulars in that process by applying to some other profession-
being very similar, which was, that al man, who, though not quite so great
after carefully combining a given quan- a genius, might have his intellects un-
tity of the sliced fruit, with due por- der better regulation.
tions of oil and vinegar, salt, pepper, I accordingly waited upon a gentle-
mustard, and other ingredients, the man, whom fame reported to be the
whole composition, so prepared for the person exactly suited to my purpose.
table, should be thrown out of the win. To him, therefore, I opened my case,
dow into the street. Indeed his royal produced many specimens of my son's
receipt, for preparing and dishing up abilities, as I had done before, and
a artist, brought this cucumber-pre- mentioned his passion for the arts, and
scription so strongly to my mind, that anxious desire to excel in that depart-
I was restrained from smiling in the ment which was accounted the most
face of my obliging counsellor, only honourable: on all which his observa-
by the earnest and grave manner in tions were in the highest degree satis-
which his recommendation was con- factory. Perhaps I was blameable, but
reged.
I thought it only fair to repeat the


30
On the Cultivation and Patronage of British Art. [April,
conversation I had just before held than those which his own particular
with another artist, and expressed my conceptions of the art required.
surprise at the singular conclusion of “ But, sir, though neither the great
his instructions, in a way that intima- nor wealthy are here the liberal pa-
ted my suspicions as to the deranged trons to whom the arts must look for
state of his mental faculty.
effective and permanent support, we
My new friend, however, seemed are not therefore without patronage.
entirely to approve the advice I had Though in other countries, and other
received, with the exception of the times, the chiefs of the state were, by
turn which had been given to its con- rank and inheritance, the protectors of
clusion; “ to account for which," he genius, here that duty is confined to no
said, " it was not necessary to suppose particular class of society; here every
the artist mad; he had only taken citizen, without distinction, male and
that mode of discouraging your son's female, young and old, is such a pro-
inclination to adopt a profession which tector; and if, comparatively, but few
he believed to have neither public nor of the number have their thousands to
private patronage in that species of art lavish on deserving merit, they each
which the young gentleman seemed to have their mite; and when great acts
prefer. That opinion,” continued he, are proposed, what good, and indeed
* was no proof of insanity ; it simply what evil, may not be wrought by num-
proved an erroneous mode of thinking. bers? If the man of genius may not
If the misconception of a fact, or a here be honoured and enriched by the
false inference from it, be thought a few, it must be owing to his own per-
symptom of derangement, nine-tenths verse and impracticable spirit, if he re-
of the world would be in danger of a ceive not those just rewards from the
strait-waistcoat.
combined liberality of the many. And
“When the gentleman consulted by who shall say that the latter is a less
you first presented himself to the pub- honourable source of patronage than
lic, it is well remembered that few the former? When the arch-patron-
men could produce stronger claims upon our country—is deceived in its legiti-
its favour and protection. Though his mate agents, their duty reverts to the
hopes were high, he was not presump- principal, to be performed not by de-
tuous; conscious of talents which all legation, but individually. Let your
acknowledged, he expected only that son therefore, my dear sir, proceed im-
nourishing kindness which he concei- mediately, and without fear, to the
ved the country owed to its ingenious cultivation of his fine talents, agree-
youth, and which alone was wanting ably to the judicious advice you have
to enable him to return the favour with already received ; let him have all that
immeasureable interest. Like many his own country can supply, and then
others, he had deceived himself with let him enter the great schools of the
accounts of ancient patronage, and Continent, and become, as it were, the
fondly anticipated no less from what pupil of the most illustrious masters of
was proudly called an enlightened and ancient times; nor fear that, on his re-
opulent nation; therefore, when the turn, rich in the stores of art, and
first tinkling of his bell failed to col- anxious for distinction, he shall be
lect around him the legitimate patrons compelled to relinquish both the art
of art—the rich and great, his surprise and his country, to dig the earth for
and disappointment were exactly what a scurvy subsistence in the wilds of
might have been expected from his ig- Africa.'
norance of the real state of national I could not help taking the advan-
feeling towards the object in which he tage of a pause here, to express the
was so deeply interested. Disheart- pleasure which my friendly counsellor
ened by that neglect which he regard- gave me, and the delightful hope his
ed as a proof either of public ingrati- interesting communication inspired ;
tude, or a general insensibility to the but as he had not clearly explained
higher works of genius, after strug, himself concerning the nature of the
gling for a time without vigour, and patronage my son was hereafter to ex-
consequently without effect, he gra- pect, I requested he would have the
dually retired from the public eye, as goodness to describe how, on the corr-
if preferring that his excellent talents pletion of his studies, he should pro-
should wither and die, rather than ceed, so as to secure to himself those
bloom by any other means of culture honours and rich rewards which an


1821.) On the Cultivation and Patronage of British Art.
31
66
approving and grateful country would short time, his accumulated gains as
doubtless be eager in some way to be- mount to a liberal reward for his la-
stow. " That is the very point, sir, bour, far exceeding what he could have
he replied, “ on which I am proceed- demanded from any single patron.
ing to instruct you. I must confess, “ This, sir, is British patronage, a
notwithstanding my eulogiums on the kind of protection suited to almost
actual state of art, it were much to be every purpose that can be imagined ;
desired that the extraordinary merit of but it is the life-blood of modern art,
your son should, by its own intrinsic in that high class to which your son
excellence, command that deep respect proposes to dedicate his talents. By
and universal attention which it will thiskind of patronage, you will remark,
certainly deserve, without other effort the artist is not only recompensed on
on his part than merely presenting his his first appeal, but his work remains
works to the judicious few, whose eir- in his possession, to be either again ex-
culated reports might give the tone to hibited after the proper interval, re-
public opinion; but when it is found served for the gratification of his fa-
ihat this high sanction, however esti- mily, or presented by him to some
mable, operating only on a confined public hall, church, or college, there
circle, and therefore leading to no pro- to remain a lasting memorial of his ge-
dutive glory, is in this case nugatory, nerosity. By this kind of patronage,
means, more energetic, must be em- too, the artist, after receiving an im-
ployed to move the general body, and portant benefit, is not burthened for
tura the current of popular curiosity life by the favours of a single protect-
into the desired channel. If that pasa or; he is nobly rewarded, yet he is in-
sion for art which would of itself pro- dependent.
dace an efficient patronage be want Formerly, hospitals, schools, col-
ing, it is not the part of wisdom to re- leges, and other useful establishments,
pine, but to supply the deficiency by were erected and endowed by the libe-
such expedients as our knowledge of rality of certain well-disposed indivi-
the world may suggest. That import- duals ; such effects no longer flow from
ant duty being, as I have just informe that cause. Liberality, however, is
ed you, not confined to a class, but not extinguished, it is diffused; pub-
shared by the whole community, it is lic institutions are no longer to be re-
to the people in the aggregate that the garded as monuments of the munifi-
man of genius, who expects either cence of particular persons, but testi-
fame or emolument from his labours, monies of the public spirit, actuated
must address himself; and the mode by various motives. Thus it is, sir,
by which that appeal is made, will that our most celebrated artists are
readily be conceived by you, sir, when formed, and thus also are they ena-
I remind you of the practice of some bled to cover themselves with glory,
artists of an inferior order, to whom even in the highest exertions of their
you probably have often been a useful, genius ;-even in that elevated line
though an unconscious benefactor. which immortalized the names of Ra-
“ An ingenious man, for instance, phael and Michael Angelo. In our
in quest of matter for his pencil, visits times, sir, no man desires to possess a
Constantinople, Venice, or any other work of this kind produced by his con-
renowned city; and wishing to pro- temporary, but every man has just
duce an extended representation of it, sufficient curiosity to take a passing
he does not, however excellent his ta- glance at such works in a public exhi-
lents, wait until some grandee, orbition, and just liberality sufficient to
Healthy citizen, shall give him a com- comply with the easy conditions on
mission for that purpose ;—no, he im- which that hasty glance is to be ob-
meliately paints his picture of an tained, and thus what one man, or sea
ample size, spreads it on the walls of a veral, cannot be induced to perform,
circular edifice, under the name of a thousands, by a voluntary impulse,
Panorama, and invites all the town to accomplish with ease. Do not fear,
view his finished work. Accordingly, therefore, that your son shall, after gi-
all the town crowd to the new spec- ving his admirable talents all the per-
tacle, and simply by dropping a slight fection and polish of which they are
fee at the door, are improved by his in- capable, be compelled to bury them in
formation, and delighted, or at least an African grave dug by himself."
anused, by his genius; and thus, in a “ That would be a consummation,


32
On the Caltivation and Patronage of British Art. [April,
sir," said I, “ much as I respect the calculated to raise expectation and en-
Laudable employment of the husband- sure applause. While this prelude is
man, I hope never to witness ; nor in- still fresh on the mind, the commence-
deed can I persuademyself that it could ment of a 'great work’ is announced,
have entered into the views of Provi- ' which promises, it is said, ' in
dence, after making him so rich a pre- the opinion of the most accomplished
sent, to place him where it must be for judges, to be a prodigy of arta work
ever concealed from the world. There in which will be seen all the excellen-
is nothing, as it appears to me, profes- cics of the most excellent masters of
sionally dishonourable, nor derogatory forme rtimes united ;' and much more
to genius, either in the open appeal to of the same kind of stimulating intel-
public judgment, or the modest claim ligence. These necessary preparations,
to public liberality, which you have judiciously varied, must be continued
described, although it is true, as you from time to time during the progress
acknowledge, the rich meed of praise of the work, which should by no means
and profit might be conveyed in a more advance too rapidly; for a production
desirable form ; but if the public feel- of this kind should seem to be a moun-
ing towards the arts allows of no alter- tainous issue—the effect of a mighty
native, the candidates for either must struggle, in which the mind has to
submit to the only conditions on which contend with all the toils and all the
they can hope to gain them. Had the difficulties of a wonderful birth. A
arts, as in ancient times, been interwo- nice judgment will neither allow it to
ven with the sacred and civil institu- appear before the whole country shall
tions of the country, the artists might be inflated with expectation, nor be de-
have prescribed their own terms; as it layed till that eager desire be tinctured
is, those who engage in a profession, with gall, which may ruin the project.
neither popular nor necessary, must “ At this critical moment, sir, the
practise it as they find it, and as cir- great desideratum is notoriety, and to
cumstances have ordered; all that is attain which, a variety of expedients
required of them, is to proceed honest- will suggest themselves to minds that
ly and fairly in the performance of that are active and acute. Among others,
which is in itself fair and honest. It biography should not be neglected.
is on that point, sir, I am anxious to The monotonous life of a student pro-
be satisfied ; I would fain be inform- mises few materials of interest, yet, in
ed,” said I, “ how a youth, whose ta- the hands of an author expert in that
lents are unknown to the world, shall department, your son's memoirs, gra-
be able to attract the favourable notice ced with his effigy, might be made to
of those who are to be his future pa- produce a “powerful sensation' in the
trons. The “ stream of popular curi- pages of a periodical register extensive-
osity," as you term it, is not to be di- ly circulated. He might find no inci-
rected into the“ desired channel” with- dents, no events of importance, but
out some previous steps, some active many topics of panegyric-wbich is
measures, and of what nature these the thing most needful in the supposed
may be, I own I am unable to conceive.” emergency.
“ Nothing is better known," he repli “ This, however, is only one of the
ed, nor more easily made, than that numerous engines that, with more or
preparatory arrangement, with all the less effect, the prudent artist will em-
measures necessary to ensure the suc- ploy, as opportunities offerin the course
cess of such enterprizes. You are an of his labour ; nor, indeed, should they
Englishman, sir, and therefore know be discontinued as long as fame and
that in this country a thousand chan- fortune remain the objects of his am-
nels are continually open, by which its bition. The great work is at length
whole population are informed of what completed. A shower of notices dis-
ever is passing in the world, even to the persed through the town, immediately
most minute circumstances. By these declares the day when it will be un-
channels, sir, on your son's preparing curtained and placed before the genera!
for action, means well known to the eye. That momentous event takes
experienced in these matters, are taken, place, whereupon, instantly, every jour-
to inform the public of his return from nalist kindly, and, it must be suppo-
his Continental studies; which notice sed, disinterestedly, undertakes the plea-
must be accompanied with such highly sing task of describing the work, and
wrought commendations as are best its enthusiastic reception. All the


1821.3 On the Cultivation and Patronage of British Art.
33
eye.'
world, but especially all the great upon them by artificial excitements ;
world, are said to have been present, but of the arts of design we know lito
when the most rapturous applause tle more than the name. Any carpen-
dwelt on every tongue, and the most ter may be our architect-painting and
exquisite delight sparkled in every sculpture we neither feel nor under-
stand; and therefore, had it not been
“But though thecommencement has for the admirable contrivances I have
been aupicious and favourable be- briefly enumerated, we should not, ex-
yond the most sanguine expectations, cepting those who chronicle our faces,
the exertions of the ingenious author or perpetuate the remembrance of our
are not to stop here, lest the ignorant, if dogs and horses, have had an artist
left to themselves, should mar all that amongst us. But with these commande
had been done. The publicopinion must ing advantages, all of which are the
still be supported, and liberally suppli- inventions of modern ingenuity, and
ed with criticisins expressly suited to purely British, I know not what may
Every class of visitors; so that none not be expected ; especially when time
may be deficient, either in a perfect and our well-known zeal for improve
knowledge of the subject of the work, ment, shall have developed all the capa-
or in terms of appropriate praise. This cities of the system concerning which
critical aid, besides imparting instruc- I have something more to add.
tion where it may be necessary, will “Let us now, sir, imagine that the
have the further advantage of counter town-exhibition of your son's inesti-
acting the mischievous influence of that mable work is brought to a close, which
eavy and malignity which, although must sooner or later, as circumstances
they prove its existence, continually shall ordain, take place. Not, however,
follow to persecute superior merit. In without having frequently alarmed the
aldition to what is done by the vehicles public with the formal notice of that
of daily intelligence, the town must event, and as frequently announcing
also be placarded in every part, and that it would be protracted in compli-
locomotive advertisements, in huge ance with the irresistible importuni-
characters, mounted upon poles, must ties of unsated multitudes.' But al-
wade the stream of population, and though no longer exposed in the me-
continually move about from place to tropolis ; and though, if skilfully con-
place, during the whole time the work ducted, it must have been greatly pro-
is before the public, so that it shall be ductive both in fame and solid emolu-
kept in perpetual remembrance. The ment, our patronage is not yet exhaust-
wonderous novelty being in this man- ed--the provincial cities cry loudly for
ner incessantlyproclaimed in every the same indulgence, and insist upon
form and situation, an impulse is given sharing the felicity of the capital, in
to the general mind, which never fails, terms so flattering, that the obliging
in these particular cases, to supply the artist is utterly unable to refuse his
want of native feeling for art so well, consent. The great work being accor-
that it is impossible the effect of the dingly removed to its country desti-
reality itself should be more complete. nation, the same expedients which I
“ This hasty sketch, sir, while it have already mentioned, must be again
explains the nature of British patron- resorted to; for although the example
age, and shews the manner in which of the metropolis will do much, it will
it is used by those who know how to not do all. *After congratulating the
employ it to the best advantage, will inhabitants on their approaching hap-
give you at least
a faint idea of the no- piness, the same course of public an-
ble resources of our art, and of its nouncement by the daily prints, and
health and strength at the very time street-placards, must be attended to;
when most people imagine it to be at and the same critical information dis-
the point of death. We are a generous tributed with a bountiful hand, for the
people, sir, and expend our money benefit of the rustic circles ; nor should
freely upon objects that have our affec- anything be omitted that can either
tions. We love horses, and women, excite curiosity, or invigorate admira-
and wine, and conviviality, and hunt- tion. When the public ardour is ob-
ing, and gambling, and fisty-cuffs, and served to cool in one place, others must
sine other praise-worthy matters to be selected; and town-halls, assembly-
these, sir, we have a natural attach- rooms, inns, booths, and even barns,
leent, and therefore need not be sct are successively honoured in the tem-


3+
On the Cultivation and Patronage of British Art. [April,
porary possession of a work declared phael you have named would doubt-
by every voice to be the Eighth Won- less have lost none of their excellence,
der of the World !' and thus, sir, would if, when produced, they had been ex-
the ball of fortune increase as it roll- posed to the multitude in a booth, and
ed.!
their author had accepted the contri-
“ Do not, sir, I pray you,” conti- butions of individuals for the exqui-
nued he, “ let this kind of appeal to site feast he had placed before them;
the country at large be thought unwor- but the probability is, that, if such had
thy of your son's character, either as then been the only mode of rewarding
an artist or a gentleman. Homer, we the labours of artists, and encouraging
are well assured, travelled from town their exertions in the grand style, no
to town, reciting or singing the seve such works as the Cartoons would have
ral portions of his noble poem to his been produced. Born among barbarians
countrymen, and, doubtless, for the or shopkeepers, with no better incite-
two-fold purpose of fame and profit. ments to the talents which Heaven had
If such a proceeding was not deroga- bestowed upon him than rabble pa-
tory to the high character of that an- tronage, and mountebank celebrity,
cient bard, the prince and father of his name would never have received
poets, much less would the vagrant the addition of Divinc, nor would he
artist of modern times be disgraced by have left behind him works which,
a similar practice. If Raphael, less three hundred years after his death,
fortunately circumstanced, and born were the admiration of the world.
among barbarians or shop-keepers, or “ It is possible, I will allow, that
where a shop-keeping spirit pervaded empyricism may subsist, and even
all ranks of his fellow-citizens, had thrive by practices upon the folly and
been compelled to display his Cartoons, ignorance of the world; but the suc-
or any other of his incomparable works, cess of the empyrical artist is not the
on the walls of a temporary booth; lofty aim of the honourable professor.
placing himself at the door to receive Because a dexterous impostor can col-
in his cap the small fee required of the lect around him a senseless multitude,
visitors, would those Cartoons have ready with their pence and plaudits,
been less worthy of their situation in the man of real talents, modest as he
a royal palace than they now are with is meritorious, is not, therefore, to de-
a more honourable origin, or the au- file the art of which he is the orna-
thor of such works less deserving of our ment, with the unclean practices of
respect ?"_“Pardon me, sir,” said I, the charlatan ; to drug all the springs
hastily, “ the sublime readings or of public intelligence; to blow his horn,
chantings of Homer in different parts and scatter about his billets, to draw
of Greece, at a time when the poet al. into his booth a babbling crowd, whose
ways recited or sung the inspirations praise is death to the pride of genius,
of his muse to assembled crowds, and and whose censure their best commen-
when works of literature could not be dation. When such men, urged by ne-
circulated by the press, afford no pa- cessity, or misled by sordid advisers,
rallel case to the exhibitions of an iti- have descended to these low artifices,
nerant artist in these days; and the the offence must always have been re-
resemblance will appear still more re- garded as a public and professional
mote when it is recollected that we misfortune ; and if the offenders were
have no evidence that the bard of an- deserving of pity, still more was it due
tiquity took any other means to in- to an art suffering under their inflic-
crease and extend his fame than the tions. Important benefits, I will ad-
simple promulgation of his poems. mit, may accrue from your system of
Homer, sir, travelled with his budget popular contributions, and many use-
of poesy, not as a circulating adven- ful projects be promoted by it; but if,
turer, merely to levy contributions on when applied to the arts, it cannot be
the ignorant, but as a benefactor to his separated from the multifarious con-
country; to delight the lovers of he- trivances of empyricism ; if to estab-
roic song, to animate public spirit, and lish and support the reputation of every
to improve and exalt the national cha- considerable work submitted to public
racter; and for these advantages, be inspection, it is necessary that the art-
sides the pleasure of pleasing, just and ist should attach to his service a motley
honourable praise was the only reward band of printers, editors, pamphlet
he sought. The great works of Ra- paragraph and placardeers, as the bell-


1821.] On the Cultivation and Patronage of British art.
35
men, trumpeters, and jack-puddings of scientious regard to truth ; for, much
his train, I fear it will never be myson's as I honour my country, convinced, as
happy destiny to add to the glories of I am, that, as a nation, it is brave,
our national school.
and wise, and generous, and just, be-
“In fine, sir, although I cannot act yond all others, I would by no means
upon your advice to its full extent, the go so far as to affirm that it cares one
infonnation you have so kindly com- rush about the arts; and therefore,
municated is most valuable, and enti- sir, if we do not think alike, I believe
tled to my best thanks. What course I that difference turns chiefly on the
shall pursue with respect to my dear question of expediency, namely, whe-
søn, remains to be considered. Pos- ther an artist of the rank which your
sibly before that great question is set son aspires to, not having the kind of
tled, my opinions may alter, but at patronage he might prefer, should lay
present i confess I am inclined to the down his profession, or accept of that
spade."
which offers, and condescend to use it
On concluding my animadversions in the only way in which it is found to
on what this gentleman had termed be effectual.”
British patronage, he smiled, no doubt Here we parted. You see, Mr
at my "erroneous mode of thinking," Editor, the dilemma in which I am
and too wise to make any reply to ob- left, in consequence of my having un-
servations attributed either to igno- fortunately consulted two doctors in-
rance or folly, and too polite to resent stead of one. In truth, sir, your good
their freedom, very civilly said, - counsel at this moment would be in-
“ Perhaps, sir, you may be perfectly estimable. “ Between two stools,” it
right in preferring the spade to the is said, “ the breech often comes to
pencil; but as my opinion is not re the ground.” Save me, I beseech you,
quested on that point, I shall leave it from so unseemly a catastrophe.
to be decided by your own good sense.
I am, Sir,
I have answered your questions with
Your faithful servant,
frankness, and, let me add, with a con-
A. 2,
BRITISH ECLOGUES. No. II.
The Mariner's Last Visit.
He hath ta'en farewell
Of his native stream, and hill and dell;
The last long lingering look is given,
The shuddering start,-the inward groan,
And the Pilgrim on his way hath gone.
Wilson.
How beautiful upon this verdant bank
The sunshine slumbers ! how the vernal trees
Expand their foliage fresh and young ! how clear
Through yonder vale glitters the silver stream!
How pleasant 'tis to mark the labouring ploughs
Traverse the field, and leave a sable track,
While merrily behind the driver stalks,
Whistling in thoughtless vacancy of mind;
The small birds, as it were a holiday,
Sing forth, with carol sweet, from every bough ;
And larks, ascending to the clear blue sky,
Suffuse the air with music.
None can feel
But those, above whose head misfortune's clouds
Have muster'd in their gloom, how sweet it is,
Thus, after long years spent in the rough world,
'Mid scenes, in which affection has small share,
To stand, as I do now, and gaze upon
The landscape, graven on the youthful mind
In all its beauty ; render'd far more dear
VOL. IX.
E


36
British Eclogues. No. II.
[April,
By thousand thoughts with boyhood's glowing years
Close intertwined, and thus remaining still,
Heedless of all the tempests that have pass'd,
In sunshine, and in vernal beauty dress’d.
And thou, lone church-yard, with thy yew-trees dark,
The children of departed centuries,
Often, in absence, have I seen thy sward
With mountain daisies, and with natural blooms
Prank'd sweetly; these white monumental stones,
And that retired and unassuming church,
Which, like a pious man, amid the mob
Of cities, and the bustle of the world,
Dwells in the beauty of its holiness,
Untainted, undefiled.-Oh, quiet spot!
How often have my visions pictured thee !
How often have I deem'd that, when at length
These
eyes
shall in their mortal slumbers close,
Here-here, above all other spots of earth,
My body would take up its last abode ;
No marvel ! --but be still my throbbing heart;
Be tranquil, and resign'd :-now to my task.
Green sward, that in thy bosom hidest deep
The form, that never more can bless mine eyes
Again ;--with bursting heart, and tearful gazé,
I stand with thee; and, on the iron rails
That
compass thee about, I, leaning, inuse
Upon my past, and ship-wreck'd happiness.
Oh where art thou, the dove, that, to mine ark,
Brought duly home the olive-bough of peace ?
Oh where art thou, of whom in youth I dream'd
(Nor erring in my thought,) that, without thee,
This world could be a mockery alone,
A scene of desolation, cold and bleak,
And cheerless, as the everlasting gloom
Of hyperborean realms?- Elizabeth!
Dear name that, now, art but an empty sound,
And hast, at least for my deluded heart,
No meaning, save that for a talisman
It served me once, and turn'd all thoughts to joy!
When thou wert drooping on thy death-bed laid,
And Sickness like a Demon haunted thee,
Turning all feelings, and all thoughts to pain,
I was not near to hang beside thy couch
In tenderness, and in anxiety; to sooth
The unrepining ills ; to press thy hand
Against my lips, and tell that all my hopes
Of happiness on earth were fix'd in thee!
To mention o'er the many happy scenes
Which we have view'a together; and to say,
Surely the same might be enjoy'd again!
I was not near to watch, in tenderness,
Life's fluttering, dying spark; to mark the set
Of thy too rapid day's descending sun;
To catch thy latest sigh; and bid thee hear,
That though on earth a thousand yes were mine,
One only love my heart would ever own!
When last 1 left my home, what wert thou then?
A very picture of all loveliness :-
The glow of health play'd on the varying cheek,
3


1821.).
The Mariner's Last Visit.
37
And round thy ruby lips ; thy hazel eye,
Through its long silken lashes, sparkled bright;
And I have gazed upon thy snowy brow;
And on the brightness of thine auburn hair ;
And thought ('twas but a dream,) that many days
Of joy—and sunshine--and prosperity-
Would bless thee, and that thy reflected smile,
Through many years, would make me blest indeed.
In hope we parted ;='twas a summer eve,
And the long lines of the decaying light
Fell sombrely upon the crimson'd trees;
And, ever and anon, a murmuring sound
Rose from the falling stream. The blackbird, perch'd
On the tall sycamore, its pensive hymn
Chaunted to usher in the shades of eve.
Yea! even then, as the last lingering look
I fix'd on thee, departing, something pass'd
As if a shadow-o'er my drooping heart,
To omen that I ne'er should see thee more!
Amid the flap of the distending sails,
Mid social converse, and the roar of waves,
And the long vista of the ocean green,
And the blue beauty of receding isles,
I strove to overcome my sinking heart,
And hush my fears to peace. Yet, often-times,
As coastways we pursued, and cape and bay
Alternately appeared, and pass'd behind;
While soar'd the sea-gull with a wailing shriek,
My gaze hath westward follow'd it, and wish'd
What fondness will not lovers when they love !
That it could bear a blessing unto thee,
And bring me thine, returning.
Months pass'd o'er;
Time with a healing touch did salve my fears ;
And Friendship wooed me through the livelong day:
Yet, oft-times, when I paced the midnight deck,
And, save the murmuring billows, all was still;
When plaintively, amid the cordage, piped
The loud-breath'd winds, and, twinkling overhead,
Ten thousand lustres studded the blue arch,
Elizabeth, my thoughts did wander home, –
To thee they stray'd, they dwelt on thee alone!
I thought me of our sweet autumnal walks
By the green wood, or o'er the yellow sands;
Of our long cherish'd, and unfaded love;
Of the vows pledg'd in early youth :- I thought-
Alas! it was a mockery of hope !
That, when again our keel did touch the strand
Of Scotland, I should clasp thee in the flush
Of beauty, and should hail my wedded wife!
Long on the Indian strand our steps delay'd ;
And I (for still a supernatural dread
Did haunt me night and day !) did pine in heart,
Yea long to traverse the wide seas again,
To brave the adverse elements, and thus
From these external impulses subdue
The agitations of the heart; we plough'd
Month after month the interminable main,
Saw but the sun, and sky, and the long clouds
That sometimes floated o'er the hemisphere,


38
British Eclogues. No. II.
[April,
And pass'd beneath the horizon; sometimes too,-
I loved the sight-a lightning sheet would gila
The pale front of the evening sky, and come
With bright reiteration suddenly.--
Sometimes the watery pillar, huge and vast,
Touching the clouds, and walking on the sea,
Approach'd us like a giant, to enwrap
Our vessel, and o'erwhelm us-till the ball
Sent from the cannon's throat did pierce its side,
And the whole mass, a deluge, thundering fell.
Any thing—any thing that broke the calm,
And caused a moment's thought, was dear to me,
For my heart's load it lighten'd. Day by day,
I strove to comfort me, I strove to dash
The mantle of despondency, that wrapt
My thoughts in gloom, aside; yet, even then,
I sometimes deem'd, that I should find thee well,
And happy; and that thus my heavy fears,
Like clouds, would melt in that clear heaven of joy ;
That would o'erarch my soul at meeting thee!
Oh! who shall tell my bosom's agony, -
Words cannot paint it-language is in vain-
The misery, that like the fiery bolt,
Did fall; and, with an overwhelming sweep,
Pass'd through, and sear’d my unresisting heart !
When, scarcely had our keen prow touched the strand,
Then to my fond inquiry,-0h, dread fate!-
I heard that shou wert in the land of rest!!
Stunn'd to the soul,--and stupified,—and drugg’d
To misery, and to loathing, with this draught
From grief's most bitter chalice, for a while,
Beyond the sway of reason I did lie ;
And said not-heard not-heeded not; the sun
Shone not for me; the summer of my life
Was wasted-wither’d, as by magic spell,
Into the leafless bough, and frosty wind !
As stills the tempest of a winter day
Into a sombre shade, a gloomy calm,
So hath the hurricane, that rent my heart,
Wasted its foree, yet only left behind
Ruins, and all the silence of despair;
And I have come, this once, before I leave
This land for ever, thus to throw me down
Upon thy grave,—this green and silent grave,
Lose for an hour the manhood of my soul,
And weep in solitude and bitterness.
Lo!'tis the crimson sun, whose western rays
Burn on the wall: I must away-away:
Farewell! already are our sails unfurl'd,
And, flapping, woo the breeze to bear us on:
Farewell! oh dim, and silent field of graves!
My native land, farewell !now to the sea;
And then a wild and desolate abode,
In lands unknown,- upon soine woody isle,
Upon the other sidc of this round world !


1921. )
39
On the Neglect of Foote as a Dramatic Writer.
ON THE NEGLECT OF FOOTE AS A DRAMATIC WRITER.
It is, perhaps, one of the best signs of cation of tasteful bankers' clerks, and
the literary taste of the day, that what shrewd cabinet-makers' apprentices.
has been oddly called “ the careless- Those plays which, at their first co-
ness of Mr Warburton's servant,” but ming out, happen to have the longest
which ought to be styled the carelesse run,
are the most approved stock-plays.
ness of Mr Warburton himself, could Nor is it, in all probability, ever ad-
scarcely occur at present. Four manu- verted to, that peculiar circumstances,
script plays of Beaumont and Fletcher unconnected with the intrinsic merits
would not now be thrust into thedrawer of the piece, often combine to alter and
to which the cook-maid was accustom- influence the test of approval. Who
ed to come for singeing paper. Nay, if does not know that political feelings in-
they were, I am by no means sure that duced both Tories and Whigs to en-
"cooky” might not smell roast-meat, deavour to out-nuise each other in clap-
and have some idea, that documents ping Addison's Cato ? and who does
with such names affixed, might haply not know that a better play, Brookes'
be something better than mere“ pal- Gustavus Vasa, was in a manner sup-
try blurred sheets of paper.” Thanks pressed from the same cause? Foote
to the universal diffusion of Reviews, is, perhaps, of the more modern dra-
Magazines, and Newspapers, and tó matic writers, the one who has been
the public writers who have, of late, most flagrantly neglected by the pub-
so successfully laboured to re-open lic, certainly not for the causes which
those " wells of pure English undefi- have been enumerated, but for causes
led,” the dramatists of the Elizabethan that ought not to have been efficient.
age, the true Augustan age of English It is, no doubt true, that the judg-
literature, the satire of “ High life ment of the public is, in the long run,
below stairs" has, so far, evaporated. never wrong. But then it is in the
If Mrs Kitty, my lady's lady, or Mr long run. There lies the mischief-
Philip, my lord's gentleman, be asked, for certain it is, that the public is not
now a days, “who wrote Shikspur," seldom most dreadfully tardy in coming
the answer will not be “ Ben Jon- to the right decision. In the mean-
son.” Yet, at the time when the farce time, all sorts of vagaries are played
was written, I suspect the bolt might off, at the expence of the poor
author
sometimes take effect in quarters much or projector. That is the way, to be
above the intention of the author. The sure, in Chancery—and why art thou
early dramatists, however, ought not “ my public," it may be said with
exelusively to occupy this salutary re- the many heads, to be less dubitant
trospection. At the same time that the and circumlocutory, than the single
“ reading public” (a phrase which ex noddle of the “ keeper of the king's
cites such wonderment in Mr Cole- conscience?”. Be it as it may; there
ridge,) is dieted upon new editions of are many things, besides the writings
Ford, Massinger, Shirley,and Marlow, of Foote, to which thou hast yet, one
it would be well if some critic would way or other, to do justice. For in-
now and then oblige the play-going stance there is Mr Kean, calied “
public, and reform and re-edite the dignified,” because he is five feet five
managerial lists of what are technically inches high ; and decried as ungentle-
called “ stock-plays.” These lists are manly, because he does not make Othel-
of no little consequence; and, being the lo as strutting and as stiff as a gold stick
sole work of managers of theatres, are, at court, or a herald at a coronation ;
for the most part, compiled in the most then, Scottish airs, with Burns' verses
absurd manner. This is natural enough to them, are styled “ vulgar," whilst
-but the evil is not less on that ac- songs about“ roses” and “posies,” are
count. The omission from these lists encored in the same breath. Nay,
is a sort of negative stamp of inferiori- fiddlers call Avison on Musical Ex-
ty; and with this stigma upon their pression, a profound and explanatory
beads, plays slide out of remembrance book, and nobody contradicts them. It
without the chance of appeal to the 'is downright heresy to think that a man
matured judgment of the public, whilst may not write beiter English, for ha-
others, of not half the value, are preser- ving his hearl stuffed full of Greek and
ved, and acted, and read, and publish- I atin idioms. Don Juan is recom-
ed in sixpenny editions, for the edifi- mended to the notice of the Society for
un-


40
On the Neglect of Foote as a Dramatic Writer. [April,
the Suppression of Vice, by those who of any feeling but that of self-interest,
passed over Beppo, as one of the plea- makes no scruple of exciting the laugh-
santest light productions of the time; ter of an andience by outraging the
and Boswell is laughed at and abused feelings of another. There is a sub-
by everybody, as an egotist and an ab- dued ease and scholarlike elegance in
surd fellow, for having written one of his diction, which no occasion ever
the most valuable and interesting books tempts him to desert. The gentleman
in the English language. Lastly,for is never sunk in the satirist, nor the
the list gets long-the subject of the man of education in the droll. His
present paper, Foote, passes with the wit is not often licentious, nor ever
many, as a man of disreputable charac- gross. It has always the air of being
ter, who had a sort of knack at writing suppressed rather than forced, His
libellous farces.
thoughts, if they did not flow easily,
Various causes have united to pro- seem to have been systematically re-
duce the low estimation in which the jected ; and he appears to have resol-
writings of Foote are held. Amongst ved not to say anything, however keen,
these, the enmity of Dr Johnson, as which could not be said with a grace-
displayed in the entertaining volumes ful and unperturbed propriety-such
before referred to, was not one of the is the style of Foote. If he was a buf,
least. Foote complained, and justly, foon in conversation, he certainly is
of the crabbed moralist's harsh and not so in literature. That he was a
contemptuous way of speaking of him, buffoon at all, I must be permitted to
and had he, in return, exhibited the doubt. The strong prejudice against
uncouth censor on the stage, it certain- him, which his writings were no doubt
ly would not have been the most un- calculated to excite, has probably left
provoked of his outrages on private a load upon his memory, at once un-
feelings. He has been called the Eng- deserved
and irremediable. That this
lish Aristophanes. The Greek wit, has been the case with many others
however, actually caricatured Socrates is undeniable. Boccacio passes for a
on the Athenian boards, and that with- mere profligate; Hobbes, foran atheist;
out any provocation at all. It would Priestley, for a deist; and Machiavel for
be useless to deny, that the personali, a fiend. With what reason, let those
ties which gave temporary attractions who are familiar with their works bear
to the drainas of Foote, were in the witness.
highest degree reprehensible. Still, it Some Jacobin wit-probably on the
must be granted that these pieces em- hustingsat Covent-garden-has assert-
body a vein of wit, a natural display ed, that the best sample of English go.
of character, and an elegance of style, vernment was to be found within the
which should ensure them readers, rules of the King's Bench-and of Eng-
long after the immediate personal lish prosperity at the settlement of Bo-
causes of attraction have been forgot- tany-bay. It is, perhaps, equally odd,
ten.
and quite as true, to say that some of
Sarnuel Foote is the prince of the the best specimens of moral satire and
lighter dramatists. He is in the dra- of English style, are to be selected from
ma what Butler is in epic poetry. He the dramas of Foote. The personal
is the most elegant of farce-writers. eccentricities upon which many of his
There cannot be a greater contrast than characters more or less depend ; and
that of his style and the style of O'- which, at first, were perhaps their
Keefe, whose farces are, after all, the principal attraction, have ultimately
most popular on the English stage. been their greatest injury. Thus
The writings of the Irishman, full of « Return the ingredients of the poison'd
the richest, although most extravagant chalice
humour, are altogether slovenly and To our own lips-
inelegant. The coarseness of the dia- That his characters, however, included
logue is only carried through by the the representation of individual parti-
continued and intense exhibition of the cularities and obliquities, ought not to
ludicrous; as the rough etchings of detract from their other merits. They
Hogarth are redeemed by the force of are singular, but still faithful represen-
the expression. On the contrary, the tations of human nature. The talent
style of Foote is the last in the world which seized and delineated their su.
to give the reader the idea of a licen- perficial peculiarities, has not omitted
tious buffoon, who, himself destitute to embody that substratum of natural


1821.] On the Neglect of Foote as a Dramatic Writer.
41
sentiment and feeling, which is com- finished. It stuck at five and forty ;
mon to our experience, and which I, charmed with the picture, and piqued
« comes home to our business and our at the people--a-going at five and forty
bosoms." Who knows but that Ham- -nobody more than five and forty
let, that natural yet almost inexplica pray, ladies and gentlemen, look at this
ble mixture of passion and reflection ; piece-quite flesh and blood, and only
or that Shallow, or that Falstaff, or wants a touch from the torch of Pro-
that Overreach, or that Volponè, or that metheus to start from the canvass, and
Mr Hardcastle, or, to quit the drama, fall a-bidding !-Ageneral plaudit en-
that Parson Adams, or Trulliber, or sued; I bowed, and in three minutes
Morgan, or Whiffle, or Pallet, or Pau- knocked it down at sixty-three, ten.”
lus Pleydell, Esq. ; was drawn from “ That (observes Sir George) was a
some individual, in the author's eye, stroke at least equal to your master."
at the very time of his writing ? Who “O dear me! you did not know that
does not know that some of these cha- great man; alike in every thing; he
racters were so drawn? yet this does had as much to say upon a ribbon as a
not detract from their general interest Raphael.-His manner was inimitably
and acknowledged merit, nor ought it fine. I remember they took him off at
to do so. Foote's disadvantage is, that the Play-house some time ago ;-plea-
the public knew the individuals from sant,-but wrong. Public characters
whom he drew, in the other cases this are not to be sported with—they are
was known only to the author. sacred. But we lose time. There will
It has happened to Foote, as to many be a world of company. I shall please
other dramatic writers, that those of his you but the great nicety of our art
pieces which keep possession of the is the eye. Mark how mine skims
stage are by no means his best. In the round the room. Some bidders are
Mayor of Garrat, Sturgeon and Sneak, shy, and advance only with a nod; but
though sufficiently laughable, are I nail them. One, two, three-four
coarse caricatures, and the Lyar is five ; you will be surprised-ha ha!
perhaps carried off more by the spright- heigh-hó!” Mrs Cole is a powerful
liness of the action, than by originality though somewhat coarse delineation of
of character or humour of dialogue. one of those strange jumbles of the
It has always appeared to me that the flesh and the spirit, half repentance
Minor is his best acting play; although and half vice; half hypocrisy, half
some other of his pieces undoubtedly fear; half cant, half feeling-which
contain characters more artfully drawn the early and more fanatical days of
than the best in this comedy, excellent methodism produced. The composi-
as they are. It is impossible that any tion is a most unaccountable one, and
scene can be more amusing-more air. when Loader the black-leg exclaims
ily hit off-than that in which Shift “may I lose a deal with an honour'at
personates Mr Smirk. Nor does it at bottom, if old Moll does not bring the
all detract from the pleasure of the tears into my eyes,” we feel it is im-
reader to be told that Smirk was drawn possible that the heterogeneous can be
from the celebrated Mr Cock the auc- carried further.
tioneer. The absurd self-importance, The farce of Taste is a happy effort.
whim, and flippancy, will always tell, Garrick's Lethe, which is something
whether Cock, Smirk, or Shift be the similar, as to the species of satire, is
vehicle. His panegyric on his prede- not to be compared to it. Foote never
cessor Mr Prig cannot itself be too let the antiquaries and virtuosi alone ;
much panegyrized. It may be a bur- and he has here added hit after hit
lesque, but the tints, though rather to his numerous catalogue, at which,
more vivid, are little less delicate than though they are repeated in almost
those of nature. It is to the truth, every variety of form, it is difficult
what the solar is to the lunar rainbow. to refuse a smile. When the mock
His account of his own rise is not less “Mynheer Baron de Groningen" asks
whimsical and spirited. “One flower," Novice of his bust, “but where is de
says he, “ flounced involuntarily from nose ?" the replication of the irritated
me that day, as I may say. I remem- connoisseur is what a Frenchman would
ber Dr Trifle called it enthusiastic, and call superb. “ The nose ! what care I
pronounced it a presage to my future for the nose? where is de nose !-why,
greatness.-The lot was Guido; a Sir, if it had a nose, I would not give
single figure; a marvellous fine per- sixpence for it. How the devil should
formance, well preserved and highly we distinguish the works of the an-


42
On the Neglect of Foote as a Dramatic Writer. [April,
cients, if they were perfect? the nose, pardons for making his Grace wait, but
indeed, --why I don't suppose now but, his Grace knows my misfor-" The
barring the nose, Roubiliac could cut concluding scenes, in which they plead
as good a head, every whit.--Brush, as they think before the Sergeant's gown
-who is this man, with his nose?” and wig, whilst he himself is hidden
“ The Commissary” is another good under them; and in which the knight
acting play, and was, I believe, for and the lawyer make each other tipsey
many years very popular. The story with such ludicrous success, are not
of “the Patron" has been more than easy to be outdone.
once dramatized in English. Tobin It would be tedious to particularize
left a farce on the same subject, which, further. The genius of Foote, like that
however, is much inferior to Foote's. of all other writers of farces, and many
Sir Thomas Lofty, the patron, is de- writers of comedies, sometimes runs
picted with great truth: and Rust, the wild, and deviates into downright ex-
old antiquary, who falls in love because travagance. Sir Peter Pepperpot's ac-
the lady's nose is turned up like that count of his getting a turtle down to
of the bust of the Empress Poppæa, one of his boroughs, at election time,
“the chaste moiety of the umiable Nero,” by putting on it a Capuchin, and taking
is very amusing. It has always appear. it a seat in the fly, though it is hardly
ed to me, however, that the characters possible to read it with gravity, is a
in which he has been most successful glaring instance. His names, like those
are Sir Luke Limp, in the Lame Lo- oftheauthorof Waverley, though some-
ver, and Sir Christopher Cripple, in the times a little too ludicrous, have always
Maid of Bath. He seems to have write a happiness about them. We have
ten them in order to display his own “ the part of Othello by Lord Catas
acting, after the misfortune of his bro- trophe's butler,”—“Lord Gorman's
ken limb, and exhibit that nicely ba- fat Cook,”—“Mynheer Vancaper, the
lanced union of humour, licentiousness, Dutch figuredancer at the Opera-house
cleverness, and absurdity, in which he in the Haymarket;" and we are told
delighted. That his own character was of the match between the Marquis of
of this cast there is no doubt; and they Cully and Fanny Flipflap, the French
are evidently written con amore. Sir dancer.”
Luke Limp (“ not to speak it pro His “ Trip to Calais” does him least
fanely”) is in farce, very much what honour. The piece itself is indifferent,
Hamlet is in tragedy, and Falstaff in and the transactions to which it gave
comedy. At once attractive, odd, cle. rise, to say the truth, had better be left
ver, weak, and vain : in short, a natu- in the cloud which envelopes them.
ral, and yet rather inexplicable, com- The attack upon the Duchess of
position. His halting activity is not Kingston was decidedly the most un.
his worst part. He has “a thousand fortunate action of his unguarded and
things to do, for half a million of volatile life. In that unaccountable
people,-positively. Promised to pro- woman he met with his match. Lady
cure a husband for Lady Cicely Sulky, Kitty Crocodile was, in the end, too
and match a coach horse for Brigadier hard for him. His laxity of principle
Whip; after that, must run into the could not contend against her entire
City to borrow a thousand for young disregard of it; and to her vindictive
Atall at Almack's; send a Cheshire intrigues was owing the prosecution
cheese, by the stage, to Sir Timothy which is thought to have shortened
Tankard, in Suffolk, and get at the his days. That it did so, is a proof
Herald's Office a coat of arms to clap that he was possessed of strong feel-
on the coach of Billy Bengal, a nabob ings, although they might not always
newly arrived : so you see (he adds) I have been excited when they ought.
have not a moment to lose.” Nothing, With all his knowledge of the world,
in farce, can be better than his sbifts it would seem that he attained to know
to change his engagements, when he only by bitter experience “ Furens
is invited to dinner, first by Sir Gre- quid Foemina possit.”
gory Goose, then by Lord Brentford, In a notice of Foote’s works, it would
and lastly, by his Grace the Duke be unpardonable to omit mentioning
of —~, whose title he never waits to his excellent “ Comic Theatre from
have repeated—“ Grace where is he, the French.” There is not room, how-
where - but scuttles out, after he ever, to do more than mention it.
has got Lord Brentford's engagement
disposed of, with“ I beg ten thousand
T. D.


1821.]
43
Horæ Danicæ. No. V.
HORA DANICE.
No. V.
Masaniello ; a Tragedy.
BY B. S. INGEMAN.
Kiobenhavn. 1815.
Of the tragedies of Ingeman, so far example of the modifying, conferring,
as we can learn, no translation has yet and creative power of genius ;-for in
appeared in this country; nor indeed Masaniello's character, there was but
have we ever observed his name no- little to tempt the poet. He was a
ticed by any of our pretenders to fo- fisherman of the lowest class at Naples,
reign scholarship. One of his plays-- who, as if supernaturally strengthen-
but one only—“ The Shepherd of ed, headed an insurrection of, we be-
Tolosa") has been rendered very faith- lieve, not fewer than 200,000 men,
fully into German ; and if we mistake about the year 1646, and, after a tu-
not, a version of the “ Blanca," by an multuous career of ten or twelve days,
English gentleman, has been printed was killed in an accidental skirmish.
at Rome; but we have not seen it, nor Ingeman, however, has imparted to
do we know even the translator's name. his hero all those attributes most likely
To such readers, therefore, as may be' to render him interesting. He has
umacquainted with the fame of Inge- drawn him as a husband and a father,
man, it may be proper to observe, that-finely contrasted him with Genuino,
he is yet but a young man, from whose a hypocritical priest, and with Pe-
riper genius much may be expected. ronne, a robber,--and finally, has as-
His first long work was a metrical ro cribed to him those gifts of imagi-
mance, entitled the “ Black Knights,” nation, and independent energies of
(one of the best of its class) which ap- soul, which a poet only could evince ;
peared in 1814. Mere roinance, how- -gifts, indeed, which, as if to prove
ever, whether in verse or prose, was their divine origin, are sometimes found
not so suitable to his genius as drama- in individuals to whom fortune has
tic composition; accordingly, in 1815 denied every external advantage ;
appeared his “Blanca” and “Masa- while, in the abodes of wealth, luxury,
niello," which (as our friend Counsellor and splendour, they are sought for in
Hell observes) excited a “ furor” of vain. What we chiefly regret, with
applause among the Copenhageners. regard to Ingeman's style, is, that
These were quickly followed by the there are no lookings abroad on na-
" Lion Knight and the “Shepherd ture,”-no blendings of the magnifi-
of Tolosa," which appeared in 1816. cent scenery of Naples with delineation
Since that time, Mr Ingeman has been of the mind's internal conflicts. Here,
not merely resting on his laurels, but again, Ingeman, like Oehlanschlager,
sedulously improving his mind by tra- is unfavourably contrasted with some of
Fels in Italy, and by tranquil and la- the modern writers of Germany; but,
borious study, of which the fruits may perhaps, he was led into this error by
soon be looked for. Of the four regu- his Italian studies. It may not be im-
lar tragedies already mentioned, his probable, that he took Alfieri for a
countrymen are not determined which model, in whom no one mood of mind
deserves the preference at present, or frame seems ever to have been ex-
associations, which will probably oc- cited, that might not have existed as
cur to our readers, have led us to well in a crowded theatre, as on the
“Masaniello," of whose real history most romantic spot of the Neapolitan
a long prefatory memoir might be shore, fanned by the softest breezes,
given, but we have not for some time and illuminated by the loveliest sun-
looked into Giraffi, or his translator gleams. But enough of these remarks.
Howell.-In their entertaining his. The play before us is long, and our
tory, every, circumstance, however prefatory notice ought therefore to be
minute, is detailed,-but luckily the concise.
mere outline of the story will be suf We pass over even without analysis
ficient for the clear understanding and some of the introductory scenes. The
duc appreciation of the work before play opens with a view of the Bay of
118.-We have here, indeed, a foreible Naples. Masaniello is leaningona ruin-
. VOL. IX.
F


Horæ Danicæ No. V.
[April,
ed fountain on one side of the stage, the present state of public affairs, and
on the other is his cottage. He is discon- to prevail on him to make some change
tentedly murmuring some stanzas of a in his mode of government. The third
revolutionary ballad, which lead to a scene brings again Masaniello before us.
confused disputation with his brother Heis still dwelling on the revolutionary
Lazaroni, varied by interruptions of ballad which he had before sung ; and
the monk Genuino, the robber Peronne, with his first soliloquy we shall begin
a physician, &c. &c.; but the assem our extracts. Our readers may think
blage is instantly dispersed on the ap- (and with justice) that the style here
pearance of one of the magistrates, is low-toned ;-but the author must
whom Masaniello always stigmatizes not be accused of “missing a mark at
with the name of oppressors, or execu which he had not aimed.”-His inten-
tioners. The second scene presents a long tion through the scenes where Masa-
dialogue between the viceroy (Duke niello appears in the first act, was na-
of Arcos) and Filmarino, a venerable turally to delineate the thoughts of a
archbishop, in which the latter endea- poor and uneducated fisherman.
vours to gain the duke's attention to
(Masaniello, alone, and mending his nets.) How strange !-Whene'er
I thus am left alone,
That song revives,—and yet, as by some spell,
Mysterious bound, I cannot bring to mind
Its tragic end !- What influence thus hath changed me?-
Scarcely can I remember who I am !--
There was a time, when first I wove this net,
I thought but of the profits it might gain
To gladden Laura's and the children's hearts !
Now doth it seem, as if a voice from heaven
Said," Follow me, and think of trade no more.
A Fisher, henceforth, shalt thou be-of men !"
Yet still along the accustom'd path I tread,
Disturb’d indeed and anxious ;-yet I move
Within the wonted circle, weave again
This net-work when 'tis broken,-and at eve
Lay myself down to rest,—though sleep indeed
Flies from me, and the waking dreamer scorns.
Ha! cursed inaction !-Indolence that longs
For rest, upon the ocean's troubled wave,
When wreck awaits the vessel ! Yet, alas !
What can I do?-Oh gracious heaven! if sleep
Indeed falls on me, wake me with thy thunder ;
Or if I wake not,--with thy lightening's glare,
Point out my path of duty, or destroy me!
“ I for the avenging scourge of Heaven am chosen !"
So Genuino spoke and so indeed,
Mine own disquiet every moment tells me
Yet am I undecided still- nor know
Which way to turn. Full gladly would I go,
And prostrate fall before King Philip's throne,
And tell the story of our miseries.
But thither have our executioners
Barr'd all approach-Well— let us then complain
Before the throne of Heaven - This is indeed
A holiday or should be so-yet seems
A work-day-Bells at a distance.)
Yet, hear now!-How sweet that sound !
'Tis the church bells !—This only consolation
Our tyrants cannot us deny. My Laura !
Good-pious-simple-hearted! Thou art gone
Already with thy children reverently
To join in praise of God-Thither at last,


1921.]
Masaniello—a Tragedy.
45
If earth should burn beneath our feet, can we
Still fly for refuge.
(Choir of Monks, without.)
Te summe rogamus Pater ! -
Ut corda nostra suscites-
Ut vere possint credere
Johannis testimonio, &c.
Masan. I hear
The slow procession nearer move, I hear
The solemn hymns rise through the stilly air,
Banishing from our bosoms earthly cares,
And leaving them for heavenly raptures free !
Thus, for a space, my country, may thy wrongs
And sufferings be forgot.
Choir of People (without.)
St Johannes lovet være,
At han Vidne vilde bære,
Om den Frelse som er nær, &c. &c.
Masan. So powerfully
Those notes attract me, I too, with the band
Of pious souls must join, and pray to Heaven,
Whose aid can rescue us, even if we stood
On the dread brink of hell. Our voices here
Can reach beyond the starry spheres. - From prayer
The powers of darkness cannot all withhold us.-
[He is about to go, when the music suddenly ceases.--A great tumult,
with shrieks of terror and lamentation, is heard without ; and Laura
soon after rushes in, pale and dishevelled, with her children in her
arms.]
Laura. Oh, heaven !-Masaniello !
Masan. What a shriek !
Thou tremblest, and art deadly pale!
People (without.) Woe! woe! --
Oh miserable day
Masan. Tell me, I pray-.
For heaven's sake, what has happened ?
Laura. Where on earth
Is peace or rest, if thus the sanctuary
May be profaned ?--If in the holiest place
Violence assails us?
Masan. Apprehensions dread
O'ercome me.-Yet, it surely cannot be
Impossible! The tyrant could not venture !
Laura. Ay, he has more than ventured all thou fear st. -
With impious force and worldly power defied us
Profaned the holy spirit !
Masan. This is then
Thy thunderbolt, oh Heaven ! and I awake!
Laura. Full reverently, a peaceful band we went,-
Priests, -old men,-women, and our little ones,
To solemnize this anniversary
Of blest St John. Then suddenly there came
A band of horsemen on us, even like wolves,
Bloodthirsty, on a harmless flock.—They spared
Nor priests, nor women ;--shamefully they us'd us :-
Even cast on earth the church's holiest emblems;
Dispersed the crowd with unrelenting blows,
And horrid imprecations. All the while,
Our haughty nobles urged them on :-"Strike ! Strike !"
They cried," and spare not! Tread them under foot !


46
Hora Danicre. No. V.
[April,
For this is the command of royal Arcos !"-
We fled in terror; our poor children here,
Within an hair's breadth of their horses' feet,
Almost were crushed.
Children (Weeping.)
Oh, father, father,-save us !
The cruel, fearful men!
Masan. (With frightful composure.) It is resolved !
Now do I know the path which I must climb:
Laura, go cast that net into the fire,
Henceforth our wonted toil is at an end.
Laura. Why glare thine eyes so fiercely? Oh be calm !
Why clench thy hand and knit thy brows so sternly?
What would'st thou do? These men indeed were hirelings,
And but fulfill’d their duty.
Masan. This I know :
My vengeance is not aim'd at them. A child
Alone is angry with the rod that struck him:
I crush the arm who wielded it.
Laura. Oh Heaven!
Masaniello, art thou then insane?
One word presumptuous now, would cost thy life.
Masan. With words indeed I shall not rest contented
Now let me go !
Laura. Again I say, what would'st thou ?
Thy looks are terrible.-So have I ne'er
Beheld thee till this day.
Masan. 'Tis true-Till now
Thou saw'st me not awake I was a dreamer ;
Now first I know myself—I am indeed
But a poor fisherman: A man of might,
And dignity is held our Duke of Arcos-
But I am the avenging scourge of heaven!
(He rushes out.)
Laura. Ye saints protect us! Never till this hour
His eyes have rolld so wildly.—Now the fire
Has broken forth, that I so long have striven
Within his bosom to repress: The flame
Now fiercely rages—and my words, alas !
Unwittingly have fann'd it into fury!
We have said that the language in mysteries of their own profession, Pe-
the preceding scene is but tame; but ronne giving lessons to his less expe-
this was at the commencement of the rienced comrade. Their conversation,
play, in all probability, systematically which oceupies six pages, takes place
intended by the author, and it will be in the interior of a church, where they
found, that the style improves as the walk aside, when Masaniello again ap-
action advances.- The next scene ex pears, and watch him while he utters
hibits two robbers, Peronne and Pietro, the following prayer or soliloquy:-
who hold a spirited dialogue on the
Masan. Now do I know my duty, heavenly Father!
I have not woke in vain! I know at last,
Who is Masaniello! But if woe
Or happiness, my portion is appointed,
Thou only know'st! To guard thy sanctuary,
Place me even like a tower of strength; or change
Thy servant to a sword of wrath, to strike
Where'er thou mark'st thy victims ;--and when thus
My duty is fulfill’d, I gladly die!
But all alone, I cannot here succeed :
Oh granit me then assistance! Hither send
Spirits of death and murder, for blest angels


1921.]
Masaniello-a Tragedy.
Where wickedness so foully taints the air,
Would ne'er descend. Therefore from realms accurs’d,
Send if thou wilt a demon of destruction ! -
But hear my solemn vows:-If I in vain
Have thus been chosen,-if I from duty shrink,
Nor hope nor succour then be mine! ['claim
Fit punishment-eternal condemnation !
(He rises from the altar,--stands silently, and looking wildly
forward.)
Peronne ( drawing nearer.) Why starest thou thus into the va-
cant air ?
Would'st thou catch motes that in the sunbeams play?
Or strivest thou here with angels, while on earth,
To make acquaintance ?
Pietro. Nay, disturb him not;
He prays. If he beholds an angel's form,
Let him not look on thine. He cannot choose,
But deem thou art a devil.
Peronne. Flattering words !-
Ho, friend, What see'st thou there?-He stands unmoved,
And speechless as a statue ; yet, one way
Remains to rouse him.
(Strikes him on the shoulder.)
Comrade! art thou dumb ?
Masan. (With cold sternness.) By Heaven, the wretched State
I shall restore !
It shall be free,-if on the scaffold I
Should perish! -
(Peronne laughs at him scornfully.)
Laugh'st thou ?-If all hell should laugh,
My purpose were unchanged-It shall be so!
Peron. (Scornfully.) A humorous brother this !- Thou speak’st
indeed
Beyond thyself-Look at thy garments, friend !-
Thou hast not well for thine own wants provided, -
And thou, forsooth, would'st free the state?
Masan. Seek'st thou
For strength or courage, then, in brave attire ?
Had I but one or two to stand by me,
Thou should'st ere long know what I can achieve,
And who I am!
Peron. Stranger, thy words and looks
Indeed amaze me. But think not thou speak'st
With cowards here. Know'st thou my name?—Peronne
Has never earn'd a craven's reputation.
Say, friend, what would'st thou do?-Here thou behold'st
Two faithful brethren, whom the torturing wheel
May not appall. We shall unite with thee!
Lack'st thou such aid as ours ?-daggers well proved ? —
See how they glisten !
(The robbers draw their daggers.)
Masan. Murderers-Banditti !
With such must then my glorious deeds be shared ?
Well-in your hands the dagger brightly gleams,
While in the earth neglected, rusting lies
The battle-sword of heroes! Not in vain,
At such a moment, hast thou proffer'd me
A bloody hand, and, though from hell it came,
Thus would I grasp it !-But our compact still
(As Heaven and freedom to my heart are dear)
Shall solemnly be ratified-Peronne,
Give me thy hand
(They shake hands.)


48
Horæ Danicæ. No. V.
[April,
Now shalt thou know 'gainst whom
My rage has been excited—'Tis no foe
That aims against my life or humble fortune-
Him could I not thus hateIt is the serpent
That sucks away the life blood of our state,
And all to lingering misery would devote.
Villains ! I know, you, for base lucre's sake,
Have murder'd the defenceless-Women, babes,
You would relentless sacrifice! But you
Are angels, when contrasted with the fiends
Who rule us here. To our good king am I
Faithful to death-His representative
Who wrongs him, and our executioners-
Them do I hate, how proud soe'er their names-
Them into justice and humanity
I shall compel, or crush them !
Pietro. (Aside) Till this hour
I have not known such confidence! .
Peron. Thy language
And fiery glances, with thy mean attire,
Are strangely match’d-But I have seen ere now
Bright diamonds glitter from ignoble moulds.
I am thy man!
Pietro. And I !
Masan. Thy name, Peronne,
Is bail for thee, that in a murderous deed,
Conceal'd and base, thou would'st be firm and faithful!
But here our deeds are noble and heroic-
To such thou art unused, and therefore now
Solemnly shalt thou swear. Murderers, I know,
Heed little what is sacred-yet shalt thou
Kneel down and swear. The worm that never dies,
The fire that never quenches—these shall be
The perjurer's recompense-Even unto thee
Such things are fearful !
Masaniello now exacts a solemn oath to him by St Januarius in a superna-
of fidelity from each of the robbers; tural visitation. He is now joined by
and the monk Genuino (a base hypo- other conspirators, among the disaf-
crite) ratifies their partnership by his fected citizens, and hands the sword to
holy presence. This concludes the first them, to prove if any one has strength
act.
to draw it from the scabbard; but they
The second act opens, just before the all fail in this attempt. He then takes
break of day, in Masaniello's cottage, it himself, draws and wields it with
where the four conspirators-Masa- the greatest facility. They all acknow-
niello, the robbers, and Genuino, en- ledge him for their chosen leader, and,
ter disguised with masks, and large after some farther consultation, retire.
hoods over their heads,-though this Masaniello is then joined by Laura,
plan of concealment is highly disap- who had been awoke by the tumult;
proved of by Masaniello. Then follows and the succeeding dialogue shall be
& very effective scene, in which he pro- transcribed entire.
duces an ancient battle-sword, given
LAURA (Enters pale and dishevelled.)
Ah me! what horrid voices all around !
Who has been here?
Masan. 'Tis 1, my love! Fear nothing!
Laura. Thou here, my heart's beloved, and all alone?
But with thyself thou would’st not speak so loudly:
Or is it all a dream? Methought I heard
Such hollow whispers, and such rough hoarse voices,
Nay, swords and daggers clashing all the night.


1991.]
49
Masanielloma Tragedy.
Masan. Nay, dearest, be composed and calm. The din
Of arms thou should'st not blamē,-'tis better far
Than rattling chains.
Laura. Oh Heaven ! what mean these words?
Masan. Ask not,-I scarcely know myself their import !
Laura. Oh Heaven ! I recognize that sword ! methinks
It is the same that in my dream I saw;
It issued from a grave; you seized it then,
And your own heart relentless pierced; then forth
You drew the murderous brand, and planted it
Deep in the earth-straight it became a tree
A palm tree green and spreading,—with thy blood
'Twas fed and nourished. Then a verdant bough
Fell from the tree, and veil’d thee from my sight;
A scream awoke me,— 'twas our children's cry,
That in their sleep were scar’d.
Masan. A blessed dream
Was this. Oh Laura ! if the palm tree grows
Green on my grave, full gladly with my blood
Will I sustain it.
Laura. Heaven-what mean these words ?
Masan. Laura, the sounds that through this night thou heard'st
Were not the work of dreams,--for murderers here
Have secretly held council. Yet I call’d
On Heaven to be the witness of our bond,
And shall not rest till all has been fulfill'd.
Laura. Unhappy night! Oh horrible !
Masan. 'Tis past !
The morn of freedom now begins to dawn :
Those that our oath has bound now wait for me.
Thou tremblest— Is it hope or fear that moves thee?
Laura. Nay, think not I can all a woman's fears
Abjure. O let me weep upon thy breast,
Once more, but for one moment there enjoy
A dream of wonted rest-even in the next
Thy Laura with her children may go forth,
Lost and forlorn, to seek thy lifeless frame !
(Sinks into his arms.)
Masan. Be calm and brave, my Laura ! I have need
Of all my strength,-0 melt it not by tears !
Heaven is my witness I do hold thee dearer
Even than the heart thou rendest, or the life
That not to me belongs, but Him who gave it.
I am the avenging Scourge of Heaven !-Know'st thou
What mean these words? Lo! now my native land
Is like a wreck that, by the storm-waves driven,
Breaks on the distant rocks, my brethren stand
Lamenting on the shore;-shall I not aid them?
No!—To the deep I must unshrinking steer,
And with the storm contend, even if I go
But to my grave!
Laura. Oh generous, noble heart !
How mean must I appear, by thee contrasted !
Hasten and save! Thy Laura must not blame thee;
Yet can I not repress dread apprehensions !
See there our children! In their dreams, to thee,
They stretch their arms imploring. Woe to them-
The fatherless!
Masan. This combat too! Ah, nature,
I must now rend thee from my heart,—though life
Itself were therewith torn away.- Weep not
(Embracing the children.)


50
Hore Danicæ. No. V.
[April,
If I too strongly clasp you-Heaven alone
Knows if on earth I shall again behold you !
Laura! farewell! farewell !– Heaven strengthen you !
(Rushes out.)
Laura. Ay_hear him, Heaven! Forgive, and strengthen me,
That I may not in anguish of my heart,
Follow his steps, and leave these little ones!
Poor innocents ! you draw my spirit down,
And hold it here. If heaven's gates were thrown open,
And angel forms appeared to welcome me,
Proffering a martyr's wreath, I could not grasp it,
And leave you helpless here, and unprotected!
But why should I that soaring spirit strive
To chain down like mine own upon this earth ?
Why should I be his enemy, and by tears
Make every conflict heavier to be borne ?
Rather should I, like his good angel, aid him ;
And now, methinks, I am his evil genius.
Forgive me, heaven! And yet, I am a mother!
No parent could condemn me, If I sought
To check him, and his anger to divert,
By tears and supplications. Yet I shall not-
I seek not this! Go then, Masaniello!
Pursue thy path of glory! I indeed
Would gladly follow thee, if ties like these
Withheld me not! Henceforth one trace of grief
Thou shalt not in these eyes behold again,
Till all has been fulfill'd. What sounds are these,
(Tumult without.)
The clash of swords, and angry shouts! woe, woe !
(Exit.)
The rest of this act would, on the saniello represents to them that the
stage, prove highly effective ; it exhi- crime rests wholly on the Duke of Ar-
bits the progress and first consequencescos, and orders Natalone to be taken
of the conspiracy: The sounds heard into custody, and led away to prison,
by Laura proceeded from the market, which orders are immediately executed
place, where a skirmish takes place be- by Peronne and others. Klasaniello
tween the conspirators, with Masaniel- then makes a long speech to the people,
lo at their head, and the Spanish guard. which we should willingly transcribe,
Afterwards Filmarino, the venerable if long extracts were not requisite from
arch-bishop, re-appears, and holds a the fourth and fifth acts. There is
conversation with Genuino (the Jee next a scene with the Duke of Arcos,
suit monk,) and afterwards with Ma- who runs an equal risk with his agent
saniello, upon which occasion the lat- Matalone, and is saved only by taking
ter asserts his importance as the chosen refuge in a church, and the interposi-
“Scourge of Heaven,” (a title which tion of Filmarino. This act is wound
used to be conferred on Attila.)—To up with a dialogue between Matalone,
this, follows an effective scene with now a prisoner, and Peronne, in a sub-
Matalone, a nobleman who has for terraneous cavern. In the course of
some time been imprisoned as a revo this conversation, Matalone is skilful
lutionist, but has now been chosen by enough to persuade the villain Peronne
the Duke of Arcos, as a favourite of to join with him in a new and separate
the people, to convey to them a reno- conspiracy, involving the ruin and
vation of their old charter-the Mag- death of Alasaniello. Thus a counter-
na Charta of King Philip. He is lis- plot is formed, exhibiting the first (in
tened to with great attention by Ma- this play) of these masterstrokes, by
saniello, but the monk Genuino desires which the inventive genius of Inge-
to look at the manuscript, and imme- man is distinguished, of which more
diately pronounces it to be a forgery. will appear as we advance.
This instantly produces a great tu We must now post rapidly through
mult, and the people wish to punish the third act. It opens with a solilo-
. Matalone with instant death ; but Ma- quy of the Duke of Arcos, who after-


1921.]
Masaniello ; Tragedy.
51
Fards holds long consultations with former, but on these dialogues we must
Genuino and with Filmarino. The not pause to dwell. Nothing being
piety and wisdom of the latter are fine, more tiresome to the reader (or to our-
ly contrasted with the low eunning, selves,) than mere analysis, we shall
hypocrisy, and utter villainy of the give the next scene entire.
SCENE III.
Interior of a Church.-MASANIELLO, Genuino.
Gen. Now, let me wish thee joy! Methinks, great hero,
Thy work ere long shall be fulfill'd- and I
Shall hail in thee the Brutus of our land !
Masan. That greeting will attend ine on the scaffold !
But 'tis no matter! If the seeds now sown
With bloody hand shall rise on high, mine eyes
Full gladly will I close-- though they have not
Beheld the happy fruits.
Gen. Why with such thoughts
Torment thyself?
Masan. Father, such thoughts to me
Are joyful, and exalt my soul to Heaven !
If yonder I behold my Saviour's form,
With thorns upon his meekly bending head,
And blood upon his agonizing breast,
I envy even the robber, who by him
Forgiven in his last hour, was borne away
To Paradise.
Gen. Nay, thither by the
grace
Of Heaven we all shall come. Truly 'tis great
This life to sacrifice; but greater still
To use it well on earth.
Masan. Therefore to-day
I use my life-to-morrow, I perchance
Am call'd to offer it in sacrifice.
Gen. Nay, this I hope not. In the rolls of fame
Thy name will shine magnificently blazon'd ;-
And when the people, with their chains, as now,
Are struggling, they will cry with voices hoarse,
In vain for Masaniello !-Yet, to thee
Splendour is not in thine own times denied.
Masan. Speak not thus proudly. From approving Heaven
Alone can honour flow. The dust which here
The Almighty has employed shall be like chaff
Cast to the winds, and be no more remember'd.
Gen. But therefore should the flowers that spring on earth
Be cropt before the storm winds come to tear them!
Even this life is a treasure,-and if thou
Scorn'st its enjoyments, thou disdain'st indeed
The works of Heaven.
Masan. Such words, in Paradise,
The serpent might have used.
Gen. (Aside). Ha ! have I then
Betray'd myself?-(Aloud.) Well, be it as thou wilt-
We differ in our language, not in thought.
If now the Viceroy all our claims has granted,
And all thy plans have fairly been fulfillid,
Thy noble deeds must not be under-rated.
Lift up thyself from poverty to wealth-
From mean estate to power and dignity!
Thou wilt not now refuse, in minor points,
To humour the great Duke, nor lightly shed
The blood of innocent men.
Vol. IX.
G
1


53
[April,
Horæ Danicæ. No. V.
Masan. What blood must here
Be shed I know not-that let Heaven determine :
But this I know that if upon the throne
The haughty Duke should place me by his side,
I would but stand there, still with sword in hand,
Until the people from their chains were free,
And then unto my humble cot return.
Gen. How! wouldst thou then reject the gifts of fortune?
Masan. What call'st thou fortune? If I live to see
Our country's freedom won, then happiness
In our poor cottage, in my Laura's arms,
Amid our children, waits me. If I fall,
Then angels welcome me to realms of light,
Where even that robber has more dignity,
Than here the mightiest hero.
Gen. See'st thou not
That thou art call’d to better services
Than catching fish and mending nets ?-Wert thou
So fortunate as from the deep to drag
A rare and costly pearl, that might for thee
Rich luxuries obtain, and aid thy friend,
Would'st thou then cast it from thee?
Masan. Holy father,
I understand thee:-Thou would'st share with me
The luxuries from that pearl derived. So oft
Have I to thee confess'd, now let me be
Confessor in my turn,
Gen. I call it not
A sin, to set a proper
value here
On this life's blessings; freely I confess
That as I have my share of sufferings borne,
I would partake thy fortune,-but thy name
And well-earn'd glory still remain thine own.
Think! thou hast promised that when first thy plans
Were all fulfill’d, thou would'st not then forget
My faithful services.
Masan. I would that now
I could forget the monk who stands before me,
For he is like the accurs’d and crafty snake!
Hence! From my sight-Ne'er hast thou understood me!
Gen. Nay, friend, for thine own good I counsell’d thee,
And merit not thine anger. I indeed
Have understood thee better than thou think'st,
But now no more must aid the vision wild
That first inspired thee. True 'twas amiable,
And shew'd at once a soul that could be fired
By one great thought and reigning principle,
Whether correct or false it matter'd not,-
Nor will the stream of passion pause for reason.
Thou deem’dst it greater life to sacrifice,
Than here to use it, for the weal of men ;
I did encourage thee-for I foresaw
Without the visionary confidence
That thou wert chosen the avenging scourge of Heaven,
Thou would'st not for our liberties contend;
But now, as I believe the goal is won-
'Tis time that I should from thy sight withdraw
The darkening veil, and from such dreams awake thee;
That in reality thou should'st rejoice,
And grasp the treasure, whereon foolishly
Thou scek'st to close thine eyes.-Go, seize it boldly,
For it is thine!


1821.]
Masanielloma Tragedy.
53
Masan. Thou Satan, get behind me !
Go from my sight--I hate and I despise thee ! -
These were thy pious hopes, and I forsooth
Was in thy hands a pipe to play upon,
And at thy music my poor soul to hell
Should dance before thee! Thou hast err'd. From dreams
Thou hast indeed awoke me. While thou tear'st
The dark veil from my sight, thy mask hath fall’n;
Thou stand’st at length before me undisguised,
Of all earth's grovelling crew the most accursed.
Thou worm ! thou viper ! to thy native earth
Return!-Go hide within thy kindred mud
Thy loathsome form !- Thou art too base for man
To tread upon.-Thy words have not deceived me.
I am indeed the avenging scourge of Heaven,
And in Heaven's name I swear, if thou again
Comest in my sight, even were it at the altar,
This arm shall hurl thee straight to hell. Away
Thou scum ! thou reptile !
With this fine burst of indignation cessity of granting to the people a full
from Masaniello, it seems as if the renovation of their rights, and the lat-
genius of Ingeman had in this tragedy ter betrays his stedfast purposes of
thoroughly awoke; and all that fola treachery and revenge. Accordingly
lows is animated and powerful. In- he proposes, that when Masaniello
deed, from this point, the chief in comes to receive the ratification of the
terest first commences. The monk charter, an end shall be put to his
Genuinois henceforth established as the career by means of poison. The Duke
personification of that evil principle, hears this not without astonishment
on which all tragic interest directly or and indignation ; and the monk then
indirectly depends ; and we almost re- darkly alleges that there are varieties
gret that in this article we did not be- of poison, some that kill immediately,
gin with the third act, and leave out others that produce lingering distem-
the comparatively tame composition by pers-above all, Madness. The Duke
which it is preceded. To the conver- refuses to listen to proposals so mean
sation with the monk just now quoted and diabolical, but the monk covertly
follows a rapid succession of scenes, persists in his own plans. There
which, for variety and stage effect, is next another assemblage of the
have seldom been equalled. There is people, at the Church of St Ludi-
an affecting dialogue with Laura, then vico, where Masaniello appears, no
a tumultuous assemblage of the people, longer as a humble fisherman, but in
where the archbishop Filmarino again a dress of princely splendour, and
appears, and where Masaniello's power makes several speeches to the assem-
and importance are fully established. bly, on which we regret not having
Then the counterplot of Matalone and time to dwell.
Peronne is brought forward. The lat After this we find ourselves again
ter rushes on Masaniello, and endea- in the audience hall of the palace;
yours to stab him to the heart; but the Masaniello, still in his princely attire,
hero receives only a slight wound, is received by the Duke with respect
strikes Peronne to the earth, and points and kindness, having now come only
his sword to his throat. He spares his to obtain the final grants for which he
life for the moment, however, but ora had stipulated, and then peaceably to
ders him into custody, and to execu- lay down his arms, and submit hence-
tion. There is then a long beautiful forth to the regular government. Ac-
dialogue with Laura, which winds upcordingly, after an amicable dialogue
this third act.
of four or five pages, the Duke offers
Through - the fourth act, the play him a parting cup of wine, which has
continues to rise in interest. It begins been craftily drugged by Genuino,
with a long consultation between the (who has been watching all that goes
Viceroy and Genuino, in which the forward.) Masaniello empties the cup,
former appears now fully sensible of and to the astonishment of the Duke,
the power of Masaniello, and the nea even before he leaves the palace, draws


54
Horæ Danicæ. No. V.
[April,
his sword, and betrays all the symp- lurk in every corner. His situation is
toms of incipient rage and insanity! afterwards fully developed in the fol-
He knows intuitively that he has been lowing interview with Laura, at his
injured, though he knows not by whom, own cottage.
nor how, but declares that murderers
8CENE IV.
Masaniello's hut. Laura, alone.
Where atay'st thou? I have waited thee so long
And anxiously! With such unquiet thoughts
I struggled not, even when thy bark was lost
On the wild waves, -when threatening clouds arose;
Or even when earth itself, with murmurings deep,
Beneath our footsteps trembled; when the smoke
Around Vesuvius roll'd in blacker wreaths,
And screaming birds fled from th' approaching storm ;
Anxious I was indeed, but not as now,
For ocean is not fearful, as the sea
Of blood, whereon thou now art driven. More firm
Thy footsteps were even on the trembling earth,
Than now, when fires rage in the breasts of men,
When every heart, like a volcano, hides
Within its folds internal rage and woe.
Where art thou ? Now I hear him! (Goes to the door.)
Heaven be praised !
SCENE V.
LAURA, MASANIELLO.
Laura. Come to my arms !
(Masaniello stands silently, leaning on his drawn sword.)
Nay, how is this? Thou stand'st
Dark-silent-motionless! And look'st on earth,
As if before thee an abyss were yawning!
See'st thou not thine own Laura ? Silent still!
Tell me, for God's sake, what has happened ?--Speak!
Masan. (Suddenly starting, and with wild looks.) Ha! haste thee !
haste! Give me another dress!
This burns me— tortures all my frame like fire, -
Nay, hell itself is burning in my soul !
Laura. Heaven! What has thus disturbed thee !
Masan. Nothing—nothing-
But I shall never be a man again!
Haste-haste, I say ! These garments make me mad !
Laura. Oh heaven, what mean'st thou?
Masan. See'st thou not the wreath
Of hideous serpents they have twin'd around me,
Who scorch me with a thousand fiery tongues ?-
Now am I cooler! Now shall it be proved,
If, when these rags are gone, aught can appall
The soul of Masaniello -
(Tearing his dress.)
Thus no more
Shall you pollute our atmosphere—no more
Shall 1 have fire or water-no, nor air
In common with the serpents ; Laura, go,-
Call the Centurion who keeps watch to-day!
Laurá. (Going.). Oh woe! He has been dreadfully incens'd !
Masan. At last, these gilded villains shall be taught,
That justice will not ever sleep,—that I
Am not in vain the avenging scourge of Heaven!
Captain enters.
Capt. What has our Ruler to propose ?
Masan. Go straight-


1821.]
55
Masaniellonia Trageay.
4
Command the people all to kindle torches;
This is an holiday-it shall be kept
With splendour, as becomes a festival !
But for the lights our people shall not pay ;
That is the kingdom's and our Viceroy's part !
Hasten! Fire every palace ! It will gleam
O'er all the city !-Haste thee !Now away ! (Exit Captain.)
Laura. That was a horrid mandate! But to think
Of deeds like these, I tremble. Oh, have pity!
Have pity on the people. Where is now
Thy wonted clemency?
Masan. 'Tis where I am
Myself,—Masaniello !—Thine old friend!
Can'st thou remember him? The man indeed
Who stand'st before thee is no more the calm,
Contented, humble fisherman,-but great
In power and dignity. Not therefore blest
Not quiet and confiding-but a stern
Administrator of relentless justice,
With bloody sword in hand.
Laur. Oh, dearest husband !
Thy looks are now so wild and horrible.
Masan. Ay, truly !-are mine eyes not eager, searching,
And my lips parch'd and burning ?--'Tis for blood
I strongly thirst-and lo! my hands are knit
Convulsively, like tiger claws-In truth
I am a tiger, Laura ! But not, therefore,
I persecute the tame and innocent flocks
I seek wild beasts of prey-devourers fierce
Who feed
upon
the weak and the defenceless.
Them prostrate at my feet, I shall behold.
Laura. Oh, dearest! when hast thou been thus perturb’d?
Masan. That I know not! Nor can I muck remember!
I am but newly changed to what I am
But to such moods thou must be us'd-Hereafter
I shall not change again ! Listen! (Tumult without.)
Dost hear
Those acclamations ? Hark! This I do love!
The festival, when sword and fire unite
Is double-See'st thou not that ruddy gleam
Already spread on high? Thus shall we read
Even in the vault of heaven, our liberty!
Laura. Woe, woe! Have mercy! See the palace yonder
Already all in flames !
Masan. And art thou not
Rejoiced by such a sight? It is the mansion
Of the proud Matalone! He indeed
Would have blown up in the air for his diversion
Some hundred thousand citizens. Now comes
The time of vengeance.
Ho! centurion
(A soldier enters.)
Let criminal judges straightway be appointed,
(Chosen from the best of the people,) and a scaffold
Erected in Toledo-street. Henceforth
Shall executioners be stationed there,
Our sentence to fulfil on the condemn'd
Justice too long has slept!
Laura. Masaniello!
By all our love, I charge thee !
Masan. Name no more
That word of mildness! To mine ear it sounds
Like flute tones in a darksome grave. No more


56
[April,
Horæ Danicæ. No. V.
Bring the lost lovely paintings to my sight,
Of banish'd hope and joy; an evil hand
Hath marr'd their beauty, now one only hue
Can I behold—'tis blood-red.
Laura. Heaven protect us ! (Filmarino enters hastily.)
Filmar. Masaniello! knowest thou that thy people
Rage all abroad with fire and sword ?
Masan. Ay, truly,
With fire and sword-so should it be !
Filmar. What say'st thou?
Masaniello, was it thou who gave
These raging men the firebrands ?
Masan. Ay, it was-
'Twas I! When robbers' dens and murderers
Are blazing-is not this a pleasant sight?
Filmar. (Confounded.) Impossible! Is this Masaniello?
Masan. Who told thee so ? 'tis all indeed that now
Remains of what he was; thou say'st the town
Is burning bravely-But, feel here, the fire
(Pointing to his forehead.)
Rages more fiercely!
Filmar. Heaven, he is insane!
Laura. He's mad-he's mad-help-help! (Rushes out.)
Filmar. Masaniello,
Thou hast been-thou art ill.
Masan. How say'st thou? ill?
It seems to me, that many will bear witness-
I am now for the first time thoroughly well !
When saw'st thou me more powerful?
Filmar. Far more power
I saw thee prove, when thy dominion
Extended o'er thyself—no farther. Now
Through weakness thou art violent!
Masan. No! I tell thee
That I have more than all my wonted strength,
And I can crush them who do point at me!
Perchance it is a devil who thus aids me;
Conjure him then, I pray
thee!
Filmar. I conjure
Thee,-even Masaniello, by the love
Thou bear’st to heaven, bé calm, regain thyself,
And stop the flames that rage throughout the city;
Let fire and sword leave but one day in peace-
Hast, thou forgot—this is an holyday?
Masan. What would'st thou with thy crosses in the air,
Confessor,-holy father? He, indeed,
Was but himself a devil.-But I know,
I know thee, friend, -thou surely art a good
And guiltless spirit,-from whose presence fly
The powers of darkness.—True, 'tis Sunday, -Ho!
(A Soldier enters.)
Centurion ! warn the people, it is Sunday;
Let fire and sword until to-morrow rest!
Film. Thy blood is heated,- Pray thee, go to sleep, -
And may the fiends of darkness fly from thee!
Masan. The fiends! nay, let them come, I fear them not ;
Even with all hell now, boldly shall I combat ;
I shall not sleep-a ruler must not sleep,-
No, I shall roam abroad, and watch for those
Who slumber.


1921.]
Masaniello Tragedy.
57
He now reverts again to the frage collecting, in his madness, the enor-
Lent of a revolutionary ballad, which mous wickedness of the monk, is at
we have already mentioned, and re- last roused to a sudden paroxysm of
members at last its tragic conclusion. rage, and stabs him, as he believes, to
He then rushes out with drawn sword the heart. The monk falls; but the
in hand, and the act concludes with wound though severe, is not mortal.
a short soliloquy of Filmarino. The duke instantly calls for his guards,
We now come to the fifth and last who declare that they were unable to
act of this singular production, which, prevent the entrance of the maniac;
whatever may be its defects, certainly Genuino and Masaniello are then borne
affords high expectation of what the away severally.
author may, with more experience, be The next scene, (probably the most
able to accomplish. This last act opens poetical of the whole play), is in the
with a dialogue between the Duke of church-yard of St Maria del Carmino;
Arcos and Sebastiano, one of his chief a grave is by chance newly opened,
nobles,-where the madness and out, and a skeleton lies by its side. The
rageous conduct of Masaniello are com moon palely gleams. The church is
mented on. Various citizens also illuminated, and now and then are
come in, complaining of injuries they heard deep notes of the organ.
have sustained from the insurgents. The first dialogue here is between
Genuino is also present on this occa- Filmarino and Laura, who is now wan-
sion; and in the midst of their consul- dering about in search of her husband,
tation, Masaniello himself, to the great who has broke away from his guards,
terror of the monk, suddenly appears and has gone no one knows whither.
in the audience room, and an highly The good archbishop administers to
effective scene occurs, which we have her all the advice and consolation in
not left time even to analyse. In the his power,—and they retire. Then
course of it, Genuino, who has been Masaniello appears, and we gladly
sculking in a corner, attracts suddenly break the course of tiresome analysis
the notice of Masaniello. They con- by transcribing the scene.
Ferse together; and the latter fully re-
SCENE V.
The church-yard of St Maria del Carmino. An open grave, and a Skele-
ton on the side of it-Moonlight.
Masan. (Alone.) Darker it grows at every step I take ;
Soon then must it be wholly night.-So long
The deepening clouds have hung around my brow,
Scarce can I recollect how look'd of yore
The smiling face of day! yet unto light
Through darkness must we pass,— 'tis but transition !
Perhaps, perhaps !—But dreadful is that hour !
Would it were past! (Looking back.) I am not here alone!
Still follow me, tried countrymen, and friends!
Our march is through a darksome country here,–
But light ere long will dawn.-Ha! now look there:
(With gladness on perceiving the grave.)
Look, and rejoice. We had gone far astray:
But here, at last, a friendly port awaits us,-
An inn of rest. I was already tired,
And sought for shelter,—now I find this hut;
Truly 'tis somewhat dusky, low and narrow ;
No matter! 'Tis enough, ; -we want no more.
(Observes the skeleton.)
Ha, ha! here lies the owner of the cottage,
And soundly sleeps,– Hollo! wake up my friend!
How worn he looks! How hollow are his cheeks !
Hu! and how pale when moonlight gleams upon him!
He has upon our freedom thought so deeply,
And on the blood which it would cost,- that he


58
Hora Danicæ. No. T.
[April,
Is turn’d himself to naked joints and bones.* (Shukes the skeleton.)
Friend! may I go into thy hut a while,
And rest me there? Thou see'st that I am weary,
Yet choose not like thyself to lay me down,
And bask here in the moonshine-He is silent-
Yet hark — There was a sound a strange vibration,
That touched me like a spirit's cooling wings
Who whisper'd thus ?-Flaply it was the wind,
Or was it he who spoke so ? He, perchance,+
Has lost his voice too, by long inward strife,
And whispers thus, even like the night wind's rustling.
(Looks round surprised.)
Ha, ha! Masaniello, thou'rt deceived !
This is a grave--this man is dead-and here,
Around thee are the realms of death. How strangely
One's senses are beguiled--Hush, hush !
(Music of the choir from the church.)
Who sings
In tones so deep and hollow 'mid the graves ?
It seems as if night-wandering spirits woke
A death song.--Ha! there's light, too, in the church;
I shall go there and pray. Long time has past,
And I have wander'd fearfully; my heart
Is now so heavy, I must pray! (Erit into the church.)
To this succeed dialogues between several citizens and soldiers of the Spa
nish guard, who are anxious to secure Masaniello, but look on him with a
superstitious terror, and dare not follow him into the church. Then comes the
death-scene of Genuino, who is finally cut off by an accidental use of poison,
which he had designed for Masaniello, and which is inflicted on the monk by
the mistake of his physician. Next follows a very beautiful scene in the in-
terior of the church, where Masaniello, by prayer, and the assistance of Filma-
rino, has once more regained his faculties of memory and reason. Filmarino
having solemnly pronounced his blessing over him, retires, leaving Masaniello,
as he believes, in perfect safety. Scarcely, however, has he time to utter another
affecting soliloquy, which we must not pause to transcribe, when three of the
Spanish guard rush armed into the church. Believing them to be friends, Ma-
saniello advances to meet them, when they instantly discharge their carabines,
and shoot him through the heart, disappearing immediately, and leaving him
to die unattended. His last words have just been uttered, when Laura enters
with her children.
Laura. Where shall I seek bim?
Children. Father--father! hear us !
Laura. He wanders all alone, so weak and wilder'd
Oh Heaven, let me but find him!
(Sees the body.)
Woe! woe! woe!
Hast thou then heard my prayer, but to destroy
All earthly hope for ever! Masaniello
Love! dearest! art thou gone?
(Kneeling with the children over the body.)
FILMARINO enters.
Film. Have murderers then
* The ingenious translator of “ Sintram,” will here be reminded again of Lear's
“ What-have his daughters brought him to this pass ?”
+ We despair'd of rendering the original here. It stands thus :-
“ Hm! det er vist en Brystsotig,
Som alt har stænnet Talen's Redskab ud,
Og hvidsker som et windpust igiennem Natten."


1821.]
Masaniellom Tragedy.
59
Profaned the holiest place? Then woe to them!
Such crime meets no forgiveness. Ay, he is fall'n !
Close, Laura, then his eyes. Be calm,--and now
Let him in peace repose. He has indeed
Encounter'd his last earthly strife, and triumph’d.
Listen! He charged me, when we parted last,
With benedictions for thee,-and for him
I shall not fail in every solemn rite.
What crimes soe'er in madness he committed,
Against him are not reckon'd. Peace be with thee,
Thou greatest man of Naples ! ---Heaven's avenger!
Still let the people for whom thou hast fought
Ungrateful, rage against thee, even in death.
Yet thou hast won a glorious wreath, whose light
Will shine in future ages, nor decay
Long as the heart of man holds Freedom dear-
And when her last faint traces we behold,
Masaniello's loss shall be deplored.
(The curtain falls.)
Thus ends the Tragedy of Masaniello. We cannot expect that the ad-
mirers of our “ Horæ Germanicae" will in a like degree approve the pro-
ductions of the Danish School. There is a wide difference indeed in the style
and taste of the two nations. Yet from the meagre story of Masaniello, Inge-
man has originated a work to which it is impossible to deny the praise of high
inventive powers; and it is probable that, like Oehlenschlager, he has, in this
instance, written too rapidly to allow time for the developement of imagination.
Of his poetical romance the “ Black Knights,” or the Tragedy of “ Blanca,”
we shall perhaps give an abstract in some future number.
LETTER FROM
Inclosing Hymn to Christopher North, Esq.
SIR,
I look upon it to be the duty of every liege poet of these realms, such as I
fatter myself I am, to follow in the eternal campaign of poetry his anointed
King, with as much devotion as in old times the feudal retainers followed their
barons bold to the wars. He must be obtuse indeed, who does not perceive that
the poetical monarch of merry England is the Poet Laureate, and to him our
allegiance is due. Now, Sir, Dr Southey has lately made an incursion into the
ancient territory of the hexameter, and in so doing, has quitted himself as a
man. It, therefore, is manifest that we, who are his subjects, should instantly
march after him, to show our obedience. The instant I read his “ Vision of
Judgment,” I was determined to do so; and, after long pondering on a subject
fit for my muse, I decided on one, which, whatever may be thought of the ex-
ecution, must be allowed to be one of the fittest subjects for poetry. I prepared
myself for my task, in the manner narrated in the hymn (1. 12-47.) Until I
got warm, I had no notion I could go on so well, but by the time I came to the
conclusion, I waxed so valiant as to throw out the challenge (l. 161.) to the
Laureate himself. I do not repent it, bold as it may seem, but I hope it will
not appear a kind of petty treason: I wish you would lay the case before Mr
Jeffrey before you print the poem. I shall not detain you any longer, but re-
main,
SIR,
Your humble Servant.
H
Vol. IX.


60
[April,
Hymn to Christopher North, Esq.
HYMN TO CHRISTOPHER NORTH, ESQUIRE.
Contents. Exordium.--Immense merits of the hero. An ocean and continent not to be
found in Pinkerton, or Malte Brun. Agreement with Miss Holford with respect to the
Muses. Agreement also with an ancient Comic Source of inspiration. Allusion to
Lord Byron, and a learned Theban.-Beautiful picture of a murmuring streamlet.
-Mr Wordsworth. Picturesque
description of a grove on the banks of the Tagus.
--Benefit derived from the Slave Trade in Jamaica.-Cheering account of the internal
state of France.
An operation of high moment detains the auditory.--Chemistry.—Sir
Humphry Davy.
-Ulysses... Polyphemus.--Homer.-Inishowen.--Hymn resumed.--Hero applauded to
the disparagement of other persons.—Consternation of Baldwin and Co.-Vain attempt
of Sir Pythagoras to rally Buonaparte.--Small value of the beasts of a certain ancient
concern.-High compliment to Mr Campbell. --Small do. to Dr Polidori.—General
massacre of the other Magazines.- Mr Nichols saved and applauded.--Compared with the
hero.- Catalogue of heroes in the manner of Homer.-{In catalogue a compliment to the
Times.]–Hero compared to Agamemnon. Preferred to the son of Atreus for his more
complete manner of doing business. King of Dahomey.-Awe-stricken men.--Woe to
the Whigs.-Reform of the toddy-drinkers. What work now patronized by very old
women. „A Knight of the Hogstye makes his appearance.-Amadis of Gaul.-Don
Belianis of Greece.Hector of Troy.-Tom Crib of England.
Cause of speed.--Various panegyrics on the Hero.-Geographical description of
England, Scotland, Wales, Ireland, United States, Upper and Lower Canada, West
Indies, Hindostan, Australasia.--Patriotic behaviour of the friends of the Scotsman
Newspaper. Catalogue of Rivers, in imitation of the Fairy Queen. Luff up for land.
-End as beginning.
L'Envoy. Appeal to the Universe. Difference between the God of Homer, and the
God of Cockaigne. A Challenge to Dr Southey..Bet of a rump and dozen.-Con-
clusion.
HAIL TO THEE, PRIDE OF THE NORTH, HAIL, CHRISTOPHER, STAR OF EDINA!
Who from thy hill-seated throne, in thine own most romantic of cities,
Show'ring, with liberal hand, spread'st jollity all through the nations.
How shall I speak thy renown? how utter the half of thy praises ?
Had I an ocean of ink, and a continent made into paper,
Yet would the ocean be drained, and the continent scribbled all over,
Ere I had told thy fame, thou wonderful worthy of Scotland !
I'll not invoke you for help, fair maids of Parnassian mountain ;
No, I despise ye, my girls, in the manner of pretty Miss Holford ; (1)
For I agree with the thought of that comical worthy Cratinus, (2)
Who swore none ever throve on the wish-washy draughts of the Muses.
Ho! my boy, step to the corner and fetch me a sneaker of brandy;
Drinkers of water avaunt! I care not a fig for your preaching:
I shall get drunk as a lord, and then follow on with my poem,
Drunk as a lord I shall get, as drunk as his lordship of Byron, (3)
When he sat boozing in Thebes with the sixbottle Solyman Pacha.
Where is the water to mix? The water that once in the streamlet,
Murmuring sung o'er the pebbles, now sings its low song in the kettle,
(Which Mr Wordsworth and I hold in supreme veneration). (4)
Here are the lemons at hand, which all on the banks of the Tagus,
Grew in a beautiful grove, shedding round it their delicate perfume ;
There by the light of the moon a poetical lover might wander,
Chanting a sweet canzonet to the honour of Donna Maria.
(Little he thought that the fruit, which there was hanging above him,
Would be sent over the sea to inspire so famous a poet.)
Here is the sugar beside, which the hands of the sooterkin negro
Reared for the sake of my punch in the island of sweaty Jamaica.
Then there's the stingo itself sweet-smelling, balmy, delicious,


1$21.]
Hymn to Christopher North, Esq.
61
Drink that is fit for the gods, or the heavenly writers of Blackwood !
Gay were the Frenchmen who made it in Nantz, an illustrious city,
Merry they sung at their work, when they gathered the grapes in the vineyard,
Merry they sung at their work, when they trampled them down in the wine-vat,
Merry they sung at their work, when forth came the brandy distilling ;
Merrily I too shall sing when I swallow the fruit of their labours.
Stop for a moment, ye crowds, who list to my hymu in amazement,
First till I mingle my punch, and then for a while till I drink it.
Now that I've tempered the stuff in a most scientifical manner,
Shewing a chemical skill, that even Sir Humphry might envy,
I shall proceed with the task of discussing a dozen of tumblers.
Glorious, sublime is the draught! The wine that the crafty Ulysses (5)
Gave with a deadly intent to monoptical Squire Polyphemus,
Though it belonged to a priest, and priests know the smack of good liquor,
Though it is praised as divine by that honest old wine-bibber Homer, (6)
Though it sent forth such a scent as fairly perfumed the apartment, (7)
Though it required to be mixt with almost two dozen of waters,
Never was better than this, which I at this moment am drinking.
Once on a time, it is true, I came across liquor superior,
Swallowing a lot of potsheen in the hills about far Inishowen. (8)
Well then, the business is done. A glorious poetical fury
Seizes my soul on the spot; I'll keep you no longer a-waiting:
Hail to thee, pride of the North, hail, Christopher, star of Edina !
Thou art the lad of the lads, who handle the pen of the writer : (9)
None dare withstand thy award ; none dare dispute thy dominion.
Sweet is the smile in thy joy, and dread is thy frown when in anger.
Whom shall I equal to thee, thou chief of all Magaziners ?
Look round, merry men all, and see the rest are but asses,
If they be named in a day with thee, DeSTROYER OF DUNCES !
Joyless is poor Mr Joy, confounded are Baldwin and Cradock,
When they reflect on thy strength, and think of their own petty yelpers,
Janus can't shew any face, and Lamb is led off to the slaughter.
Sad is the sapient heart of Sir Dick, the devourer of cabbage,
Vainly he calls to the fight old Capel Loft, and Napoleon. (10)
Constable trembles in soul, when he finds he has none to oppose thee
Save a collection of beasts, not worth a penny, a dozen.
Campbell himself, the sweet, the beautiful poet of Gertrude,
Shrinks at the sound of thy name, and turning away from H. Colburn,
Wishes he'd left the concern to Jack Polidori the Vampire.
Why should I mention the rest ? unheard of perish the cattle !
But as I go along, I gladly pay thee a tribute,
Eldest of all Magazines, the Gentleman's, properly so called.
Pleasant art thou to read, ay, pleasant even in quaintness ;
Long may thy Editor live, long live, and scatter around him
Tales of the days of old, and sentiments honest and loyal.
(Christopher's nearly as old, he being sexagenarian;
Never arise there a row 'twixt these two worshipful elders.)
Hail to thee, pride of the North ! Hail, Christopher, star of Edina !
Great is thy strength, 0 Kit, and valiant thy men are in battle.
Wastle, the laird of that ilk, who wrote of the crazy-pate banker,
Delta, triangular bard, both Hugh and Malachi Mullion,


82
Hymn to Christopher North, Esq.
[April,
Scott-Jamie Scott-Doctor Scott, the poetic uprooter of Grinders ;
Timothy Tickler so brave, and the couple of grave-looking Germans,
He that’s as great as a host, O'Doherty, knight of the standard,
Seward and Buller from Isis, and Hogg the Shepherd of Ettrick,
Cicero Dowden from Cork, Tom Jennings the poet of Soda, (12)
Petre of Trinity, Dublin, -O'Fogarty, dwelling in Blarney;
Gruff-looking Z. is there, wet with the blood of the Cockneys,
So is the ancient Sage, whom the men of Chaldea delight in.
How can I sum them all? Go count the sands of the ocean,
Number the lies of the Times, or reckon the motes of the sunbeam,
Num’rous as they are the bands, who draw the goose-quill for Maga.
Over them all is North, as great as King Agamemnon,
When he led forward his Greeks to the sacred city of Priam.
Surely as Pergamus fell by Pelasgian valour and fury,
So shall his enemies fall, if once they do battle against him.
Only the hosts of the king were ten years doing the business,
While he in slaughtering his foes scarce spends ten minutes about it.
Hail to thee, pride of the North ! Hail, Christopher, star of Edina !
Many a man has been slain by thy trenchant and truculent falchion.
Thou, if thou wouldst, could build a hall like the kings of Dahomey,
All of the skulls of the dead, on whom thy sword has descended ;
Wonder not then if thy name is heard by many with terror.
Pale is the cheek of Leigh Hunt, and pale is the Anti-Malthusian;
Hazlitt I own is not pale, because of his rubicund swandrops,
But he is sick in his soul at the visage of Georgy Buchanan; (13)
Webb is a trifle afraid, the heavy-horse Lieutenant shaketh,
Grim is the sage-looking phiz of the bacon-fly Macvey Neperus;
Joy does not reign in the soul of sweet Missy Spence, and the Bagman,
Nor of some hundred beside, whose names 'twould tire me to mention,
When they are told ev'ry month, lo! terrible Christopher cometh !
Thou hast for ever put down the rascally Whig population ;
Muzzled by thee is the mouth of Jeffrey's oracular journal ;
Onion and onionet there have suffered a vast degradation. (14)
Nobody minds them now, not even the drinkers of toddy, (15)
Who in the days of old, in garrets loftily seated,
Thought it a wonderful feat to be able to read through its pages :
Nobody minds them now, save awfully ancient old women.
But I should never be done, did I tell even half of thy slaughters.
Amadis, hero of Gaul, nor the Grecian Don Belianis,
Hector the champion of Troy, or Cribb the champion of England,
Floor'd never have such a lot as thou in the days of thine anger.
Though I have much to say, I shall soon bring my song to an ending,
Almost out is my candle, my punch is out altogether.
Hail to thee, pride of the North ! hail, Christopher, star of Edina !
Joyous am I, when I read thy soul-enlivening pages,
Cramm'd with delicious prose, and verses full as delicious ;
Whether thy theme be grave, sublime, abstruse, or pathetic,
Merry, jocose, or slang, quiz, humbug, gay or satiric,
Equally thou in all soar’st over the rest of creation.
Still are thy efforts devote to the honour and glory of Britain ;
Then be thou read where'er the language of Britain is heard of,


1921.]
Hymn to Christopher North, Esg.
63
Through merry England herself, the much-honour'd land of the mighty,
Over the kingdom of Scotland, north and south, highland and lowland,
Over the hills and dales of Cambria, region delightful,
And in the green-mantled island of Erin, the land of potato.
Then thou shalt cross the sea to the Yankee dominion of Monroe, (16)
On to the regions of Canada, snow-covered, upper and lower.
Southward away to the islands discover'd by Christopher Colon,
Which the blundering name of the Western Indies delight in.
Off to the East, thou fliest to the realms of the Marquis of Hastings, (17)
Where the wild natives of Ind regard thee with much veneration,
Placing thee there with the gods, next after Brama and Seeva.
Thence to the Austral land, where fly the friends of the Scotsman,
Learing their native soil, at the nod of judge or recorder,
Like patriotical folks, all for the good of their country.
There thou art somewhat read by the honest Botany Bayers,
Who at the ends of the earth live under the sway of Macquarie; (18)
Severn, and Trent, and Thames, Forth, Tweed, and Teviot, and Leven,
Dovey, and Towey, and Neath, Lee, Liffy, Slaney, and Shannon,
Lawrence, Potowmac, Missouri, Indus, and Ganges, and Oxley,
Wander through countries possess'd by jolly-faced readers of Blackwood.
Thus have I sail'd round the earth, like Captain Cook or Vancouver,
Here then I luff to the land, and haul in my bellying canvas,
Ending my elegant hymn with the self-same line that began it,
HAIL TO THEE, PRIDE OF THE NORTH, HAIL, CHRISTOPHER, STAR OF EDINA!
L'Envoy.
Nations OF BARTH! who have heard my hymn so gloriously chaunted,
Answer, as honest men, did you ever hear any thing like it?
Never! I swear, by the God, whom Homer calls Argyrotoxos,
And whom the bards of Cockaigne address by the name of Apollor !
Come, and contend, if you dare, great laurel-crown'd Bard of Kehama !
Come, and contend if you dare, in the metre of dactyle and spondée !
That I should beat you in song, I bet you a rump and a dozen,
A rump and a dozen I bet,--and there is an end of the matter.
(1.) “Wake not for me, ye maids of Helicon,” quoth Miss Holford. I am more po-
lite ; for I call them “ fair maids.”—(2.) Rideo si credis, &c.—(3.) Lord Byron comme-
morates this adventure in a note on one of his poems, Childe Harold, I believe.—(4.)“The
kettle singing its low undersong,” W. W. also, “A fig for your languages, German
and Norse, &c. (5.) Od. IX. 1. 221. &c. 'I give Cowper's translation as the most literal
I can find, though it does not do any thing like justice to the raciness of the original.
“ I went ; but not without a goatskin filled
With richest wine, from Maron erst received ;
The offspring of Evanthes, and the priest
Of Phoebus, whom in Ismaras I saved,
And with himself, his children, and his wife,
Through reverence of Apollo ; for he dwelt
Amid the laurel sacred to his God,
He gave me, therefore, noble gifts ; from him
Seven talents I received of beaten gold ;
A beaker, urgent all, and after these,
No fewer than twelve jars, with wine replete,
Rich, unadult'rate, drink for gods ; nor knew
One servant, male or female, of that wine
In all his house, none knew it, save himself,
His wife, and the intendant of his stores ;


Hymn to Christopher North, Esq.
[April,
Oft as they drank that luscious juice, he slaked
A single cup with twenty from the stream ;
And even then the beaker breathed abroad
A scent celestial, which, whoever smelt,
Henceforth no pleasure found it to abstain.
(6.) Vinosus Homerus. He deserves the title. None but a wine-bibber could have
30 joyously described the wine as 'ndvv. åxngáclov, GEION Fotó. (7.) Odun dödlie and
xenitneoodídel Oertioin ; which is very flatly rendered by Cowper. If I mistake not, the
Landlord, in the beginning of the Antiquary, panegyrizes his claret in the same manner,
which I throw out as a hint to the future collector of parallel passages, such as Mr C.
Metellus and Mr Watts.—(8.) With General Hart. (9.) A Chaldean phrase. See Chal.
MS. (10.) Sir Richard's contributors. Vid. Hour's Tete-a-Tete with the Public. In-
deed that admirable work should be carefully studied by those who wish duly to appre-
ciate my hymn.—(11.) Vid. Chal. MS. again.-(12.) See No. 38. Luctus over Sir D. D.
He is there called Demosthenes Dowden, but I could not get Demosthenes to scan. I
therefore substituted Cicero, which I hope Mr Dowden will be satisfied with.-(13.) He,
it appears, does not agree with an elegant, and judicious poet of the Literary Gazette,
who sings concerning the cover of the Magazine ;
On that calm mild face I doat,
Which is on thy back impressed.
(14.) Again to the Hour's Tete-a-tete.--(15.) Ibid.—(16.) We are not overpopular
among the Yankees, but Munroe, who is a man of gumption, spoke rather civilly of us
in his last message to the Senate. It is a good omen, that America will not long be al-
together so barbarous as Tommy Moore represents her. C. N.-(17.) Marquis of Hasta
ings, and (18) Governor Macquarie--two particular friends and contributors of ours.
C. N.
P. S. I hope a sense of modesty will not hinder you from printing this hymn of
mine. *
P. S. Concerning the scansion of the hymn, it was my intention to have dissertated
somewhat, but I fear I should trespass too much on your pages. Send it over to Pro-
fessor Dunbar, and he will settle the matter for you in a minute. He can apply his
new canon of Homeric poetry to it, and if that will not make it scan, nothing that I
know of, will. For instance, see l. 99. Thou, if thoŭ, &c. which he could account for
on the same principle as he does āgeç ăges, and all other lines in an equally luminous
Give me, however, a verse-mouth to read my poetry, and I despise all the
gew-gaw work of the prosodians. Indeed, I think the rule of the learned Merlinus
Cocaius, or Macaronicus, might be well transferred to English Hexameter—"Denique
sicut Virgilius, ac ceteri vates in arte poetica potuerunt alterare sillabas auctoritate sua,
verbi gratia, Relliquias, ita Macaronicus poeta non minus hanc auctoritatem possidet
circa scientiam, et doctrinam propriam,”-it being a mighty convenient regulation, and
tending to save much trouble.
P. Š. There is not a figure of rhetoric, from Metaphor or Apostrophe, down to Pa.
ragoge or Anadiplosis, which the learned will not find in my poem. I have not time to
enlarge on the subject, but I cannot help throwing out a hint to the ingenious.
• We never have any objection to print truth; of course we publish this hymn.-C. N.
manner.
MANCHESTER POETRY.T
Here is a book of poetry, good reada instance, in your mind the ideas of
er, written and published in Manches- Manchester and Wordsworth, and see
ter. The phenomenon has absolutely if, by any mental process, you can r(-
astounded us! We protest we should duce them into any sort of union. The
as soon have expected a second edition genius of that great man would have
of the miracle performed in the desert been absolutely clouded for ever by one
for appeasing the thirsty Israelites, as week's residence in the fogs of Man-
to find a Hippocrene bubbling up chester ! Poetry from Manchester !
amidst the factories of that smoky why, we should as soon have ex-
town. There is something in the very pected a Miltonian epic from the mo-
name itself which puts to flight all nosyllabical Tims. The only associ-
poetical associations. Only couple, for ation we have connected with this very
+ The Muse in Idleness. By W. D. Paynter, author of the Tragedy of “ Eury-
pilus." 8vo. Manchester, 1819.


1821.]
Manchester Poetry.
65
commercial town is the abstract idea ther valuable endowment, who ever
of a little whey-faced man, in a brown could think that the modesty of the
frock-coat and dirty coloured neck. Scotsman could be attained all at once?
cloth, smelling--not of perfumes or The thing is impossible, as Dr John-
cassia, but of cotton and callicoes; son said of Sheridan's stupidity, such
talking-not of poetry or the Stagyrite, modesty is not in nature. It could
but of nine-eights and fustians; and only have come by constant and assi-
writing-not of Shakespeare or Pope, duous cultivation and practice, by lay-
but “ Your's of the 11th ult. duly ing hold of every opportunity of add-
came to hand, in which per advice, ing to the good gift which nature ori-
&c. &c." We have heard, to be sure, ginally bestowed, till that frame of
thanks to their intelligent brethren mind was procured, which at once en-
who travel northward, that such things chants and amazes us.-But to return
are even to be found as poetical bag- to our Manchester friends: Let them
men, who are favoured with clandes- not think we are inclined to be harsh
tine visits of the Muse. This, how- or severe with them. We have long
ever, may, we think, be accounted for eyed them with benignity, not un-
on the principle of locomotion, and the mixed however with some compassion
great assistance afforded to them by the for their intellectual darkness. But let
trotting of horses and the rumbling of them not despair. We have known
wheels in the concoction of their po- cures to have been effected when the
etical elevations. The flattest small via mater was even in a less promising
beer will, we all know, by continual agi- state. Much may be done by a perse
tation, effervesce: what marvel, then, vering in a course of study, and read.
that bagmen should write poetry, un- ing Blackwood's Magazine, which ex-
der the influence of a like inspiration. cellent Publication, ye Manchester
Were the labours of these meritorious Neophytes,
persons confined to Manchester, we Nocturna versate mana, versate diumá.
apprehend the afflatus would be found There is one thing however, which
to cease. These instances, then, and even our indulgence, great as it is, can-
We believe they are rare, do not affect not excuse, and that is their utter ne-
the general rule. Yet we would not glect of the great field which has re-
be uncharitable ; and we are willing to cently been presented to them for ex.
allow, that amidst the labours of the ercising their poetical powers,need we
counting-house and sale-room, a few say, in the far-famed massacre of Pen
stationary individuals may be found terloo. Such a shameful insensibility
who are competent, upon emergencies, we never before witnessed. Here was
to supply their friends with a gratui- absolutely a niche vacant in the temple
tous sonnet or Valentine, which, bating of Fame, and not a soul of them had
their necessary want of rhyme and as- time or courage to step into it. The
saults on Priscian, may pass for a very Chronieler of the enormities of the
respectable and decent compilation. Manchester magistrates, might have
These are, however, but poor tri- taken his seat with the utmost com-
amphs; and though to the gaping posure, by the side of Virgil or Ho-
clerks, and literary warehousemen, of mer, yet no struggle has been mani.
that intelligent town, they may ap- fested for this glorious distinction !
pear the very highest achievements of What species of poetry is there to
human intellect,-fruits only growing which this inexhaustible theme would
on the top and pinnacle of Parnassus, not have been adapted ? First for the
the very ne plus ultra of the endow- Epic.--Could any thing have been
ments of the Muse; yet we must whis- better fitted, from which to build the
per softly into their ears, that it is by lofty rhyme, than the adventures of
other performances than these that that “ pious Æneas,” Orator Hunt?
their poetical credit is to be establish- Manifold were his afflictions, and va-
ed. Let them not mistake the bot- rious and singular his mishaps,“ mul-
tom for the top of the two forked hill. tum jactatus ;" indeed, he was miser-
Not that we expect all things at once ably shaken by the rude hands of con-
of them; we are not such hard task- stables, and catchpoles; yet, amidst
masters. We know, that in poetry as all, he persevered unmoved and unde
well as in other things, progress can jected, mindful of his “ Lavina Lit-
only be made slowly, and by degrees. tora," where now he has at length ar-
To borrow an illustration from ano- rived; and long, may we say, may he


66
Manchester Poetry.
[ April,
$
remain in the asylum to which the competent to fill his place. Such a
gods have sent him! Then for the man as Roscoe we should hardly ever
Elegiac.- Is it possible for more pa- expect from the level of Manchester
thetic examples to be found any where merchants,-gentlemen, whose erudi-
than the poor creatures, whose ears tion, we believe, consists in the play-
and noses were cut off by the unrelent- ing whist, drinking port, and damning
ing swords of those valiant men-at form,” as unceremoniously as En-
arms, the Manchester Yeomanry? If sign Northerton himself. More learn-
the ancient author thought the loss of ing than this we think they would be
his hair of so much consequence as to ashamed to possess; and of more learn-
lament it in an elegy, how many elegies ing we would not willingly accuse
would the deprivation of his ears or them. If five or six have the rare abi-
his nose have elicited! We leave the lity to get through a few sentences of
matter to be determined by a jury of mawkish common-place, at some pub-
Dandies. Then for the Ode.- What lic meeting, we apprehend that is the
exquisite lyrical invocations might have extent of their powers, and the sum-
been composed to the deceased Major mit of their ambition. With respect
Cartwright, or the spirit of Tom Paine, to the society, which goes under the
evoking from their elysium, those wor- name of the Manchester * Literary and
thies departed, to return to earth ac- Philosophical Society, we understand,
companied by Astrea, (excellent socie- that like all other venerable institu-
ty for her by the bye,) and view the tions, it is now falling to decay, or at
bloodshed and carnage committed un- least principally directed to mecha-
der the eyes of those modern Neros, nics and commercial speculations. Its
the Manchester quorum. Peterloo name now reminds us of no eminent
might have been compared to Mara- abilities or extraordinary talents con-
thon or Thermopylæ, and the victims nected and associated with it; and we
of the yeomanry, to the patriots who should augur that it has participated
expired on those memorable plains. in that misfortune of old age, to out-
And for the Epigram.-But we are live its efficiency and reputation. Be-
launching out too far; it is useless fur- sides this, we believe, there are other
ther to shew what capabilities the sub- minor societies, much on the plan of
ject presented. The golden opportu. the Edinburgh Speculative, to be met
nity is gone, the brazen head has ut- with in Manchester, where nonsense
tered the last monition; and even the is spouted by the hour; and attornies'
ground of Peterloo, after having, for clerks, and commercial book-keepers,
some time, been daily visited by pa- disinterestedly labour for each other's
triotic bagmen, and other devotees to benefit and improvement. Here are to
the great cause, is quickly losing its befound,orators and rhetoriciansinem-
hallowed sanctity; and within a short bryo, reasoners on free-will, predesti-
period, factories may be erected on that nation, and other lofty and mysterious
distinguished spot where liberty ex- topics, in whose disputations, however,
alted her cap, and patriotism poured nothing is concluded; and the person
forth its blood.
who generally comes off the worst, is
Such is the nature of things, and the unfortunate Lindley Murray.-
therefore it was incumbent on our good There are, too, Manchester newspapers,
friends to have seized time by the fore- where there is occasionally a poetical
lock. But to return to our subject. sketch by Juvenis, or a stanza to Miss
Seriously we are inclined to believe E. by Modestus, or an address to the
that Manchester is not overburdened Princess by Euphemia, respectively
with that unmarketable article literas written and indited by grocers' appren-
ture. At least, we are pretty certain, it tices, milliners' protegées, and young
has now hardly any person of acknow- scholars of the Porch,
ledged literary abilities and character “ Who pen a stanza when they should
to boast of. Dr Ferriar, whose elegant engross."
mind and varied researches, could at Or perhaps on some suitable and ex-
all times give interest to the subject to traordinary occasions, there may be a
which they were applied, is long since letter from Mr A. to Mr B. on the
dead, and has left no one behind him conduct of Mr C. with respect to parish
Lucus a non lucendo. The only readable papers in the Transactions of this Society,
are those of Dr Ferriar, Dr Henry, and a very few others. The rest is a mere caput mor-
1
tuum.


1821.]
Manchester Poetry.
67
affairs, or some facetious and happy, selves should, in all probability, under-
morsels of wit, which only want intel- take this laborious work. In Manches-
ligibility to complete them, by Andrew ter, we have no less than ten different
Birchbottom, a personage, who, as his scribes, who each take different dem
name imports, is in the habit of admi- partments of the town, and attend to
nistering discipline. These literary bo- their vocation with unremitting dili-,
dies, and literary performers, with an gence. We give them bandsome sala-
occasional pamphlet, which the emer- ries, but are extremely select in the
gencies of the times may strike out of persons whom we thus constitute our
the crack-brained noddle of some re- reporters. On their first outset, not be-
forming politician, big with official do- ing accustomed to the climate, the fogs
cuments and letters of moment,-or and the effluvia proceeding from the
some dramatic performance, which may cotton were so potent in their effects,
be extorted from the unquiet conscience that the intellects of our unfortunate
of some printer or printer's devil—or Juvenals were most grievously discom-
some prologue or epilogue, volunteered posed. When the communications
by the pitiful heart of some young limb came to our hands, they were absolute-
of the law, panting after immortality, ly of such a nature that we could nei-
or some lecture published at the de- ther make head nor tail of them. In-
sire of the auditors, utterly disproving stead of a sumn
mmary of Manchester li-
the Devil and all his works-or some terature, one sent us an abstract of a
sermon, published at the like desire of Manchester ledger. Another, after in-
the congregation, and which, to shew forming us of the state of the market,
its good effects, has procured sleep ended by modestly requiring of us
even when laudanum has failed-or some orders-for what dost thou think,
some handbill, in large and visible good reader ! For demities and plates !
characters, containing words “ full of Orders fronı us, Christopher North,
fire and fury, signifying nothing"-or for plates and demities !!! Heard ever
some public address, which like Elka man the like? We were, accordingly,
nah Settle's Epithalamium, with a new much perplexed. In time, however,
facing, serves for all occasions equally, our messengers became completely ac-
and is excogitated with much trouble, customed to the fogs and the etcetera
and perused with more--constitute the of a Manchester life, and having lost
sum total and aggregate of what Man- the unaccountable mania for traffick-
chester is producing, or is likely to ing,'which at first possessed them, are
produce, in the way of literature. now contented to forward our interests,
Our readers will, we think, be incli- instead of merely taking care of their
ned to wonder at the accuracy and own. In addition to these regulars, we
completeness of our information. It is now employ another auxiliary, our
indeed perfect omniscience. There is worthy friend Mr Theophilus Bailey,
not, in fact, a town in this large king- a nephew by the father's side to Miss
dom of which we have not a full and Bailey of unfortunate and famous me-
complete literary and civil account re mory, by whom the slumbers of the
gularly transmitted to us by our emis- Halifax captain were so suddenly and
saries, who are in number as countless so unpleasantly disturbed. Reports
as the sands of the sea, or the motes in indeed have been circulated that he is
the sunbeams. Not one silly thing is the illicit offspring of that celebrated
said of our Magazine of which we have connection; but this we considered
not instantly knowledge. A very whis- mere slander on the fair fame of the
per comes to our ears, increased to the unfortunate heroine, and therefore in-
loudness of cannon. Let, therefore, the treat our readers not to give it the least
evil tremble within themselves, and credit. Being a native of Manchester,
quake with the consciousness of their he is of course completely familiarized
guilt. We hold but the rod over them, to the climate, and having the intel-
which may be inflicted when they are lectual constitution of a horse, he can
least prepared. We have at this mo bear the conversation even of Man-
ment a room entirely devoted these chester cotton spinners without Alinch-
official communications, which we are ing. He is indeed an extraordinary
now keeping for some future continua- character. The alacrity of the mind
tion of Camden. Did not our advanced is wonderful. So little is he influenced
age and infirmities prevent us, we our- by locality, that we have had letters
Vol. IX.
I


68
Manchester Poetry.
[April,
from him, dated Gotham, on the Sub- cation to this his last and greatest. We
lime and Beautiful-comments from therefore apprehend that this conjec-
the Bogs of Tipperary on the Sculpture ture is erroneous, and that this drama-
of the Greeks, and to crown all, dis- tic performance has actually been pub-
quisitions from Glasgow, on the Influ- lished within the memory of man,
ence of Poetical Associations.
though perhaps only in a confined
But weare wandering from the subject town, and for the edification of a cho
and Mr Paynter. Nothing more, we sen few. Certes this was a delicacy of
think, is necessary to establish all that which the multitude was not worthy
we have said of our intelligence, than still it is unchristianlike and illiberal
the simple fact of our having reviewed for any one to keep to himself the pos-
the work now before us. We are almost session of a common good ; and for
certain it has completely escaped the ourselves therefore, as well as the other
notice of all our contemporary journal- lovers of the drama, we beseech the
ists, and really are afraid of incurring person or persons who may now enjoy
the suspicion, a suspicion which before to himself the interesting production,
has attached on us, of reviewing a book to suffer others to be sharers of its beau-
not actually in existence. This suspi- ties, and to transmitit to us without de-
cion, we entreat our readers, in justice lay, for the purpose of being reviewed
to Mr Paynter, and in pity to ourselves, in the next number of our Magazine.
entirely to put away. Our purpose is not Such is our well grounded confidence
to deprive Mr Paynter of one iota of his in it, deduced from the perusal of the
merited reputation. We profess our in- present work, that we undertake to de-
competence to manufacture any thing monstrate it to be superior to Miran-
like the extracts we are about to ad- dola, or any other recent dramatical
duce. Our business is merely to point performance.
out their beauties, and enlarge on their In hopes shortly of being blessed
defects. If, nevertheless, our assevera- with the good for which we have pe-
tions are of no avail, and the reader titioned, we proceed to the “ Muse
shall require a more convincing proof in Idleness," and first of all we must
that Mr Paynter is a man of this world, notice a very alarming report which
and consequently entitled to the credit has just come to our ears, and which
of this performance, (though how a indeed had 'no small influence with
person can doubt of the existence of a us in inciting us to review this book;
member of the Manchester Philanthro- namely, that one half of the copies
pical Society is to us, we confess, a have been lately transmitted to Edin-
problem) let him forthwith send to burgh, for the purpose of being em-
Manchester for a copy of the book, and ployed by the pastry cooks in the lit-
he will shortly receive a return which tle necessary occasions of their busi-
will administer much satisfaction to ness. Now, before sacrilegious hands
his own mind, and much satisfaction laid upon
the “ Muse in Idleness,"
to the mind of the publisher.
we must simply beg leave to ask these
The book now before us, as we are worthy persons, for whose manufac-
informed by the title page, is written tures we have always maintained a
by D. W. Paynter, author of the tra- great affection, if they are aware of the
gedy of Eurypilus. When and where grievous sin they are about to commit,
this tragedy was published, the first in appropriating to the involution of
crepundia of our great author, our most cakes and comfits, " what was meant
diligent inquiries have been unable to for mankind." Let them take heed, for
ascertain. As we never heard of it in we assure them that even the recreant
any way, we can only imagine that it tailor, who was about to clip the great
came out “in luminis oras" before we bulwark of our liberties, Magna Char-
were born, which, good reader, was in ta, will stand guiltless in comparison
the year 1760. According to this suppo- with the clipper and mutilator of Mr
sition, Mr Paynter must now be advan- Paynter's Sybilline leaves. After this
ced in years, and therefore in a very notice, we shall not consider ourselves
proper frame of mind for writing such responsible for any suicides which may
poems as these, which certainly bear hereafter happen among the members
sometokens of senility. On this supposi- of this respectable fraternity, from
tion, however, we cannot account for the pangs of conscience for such inexpiable
long interval of time which has been poetical sacrilege, and deem ourselves
suffered to elapse from his first publi- wholly exonerated from the conse-
are


1891.]
as
B
to
be
without sleep, in an endeavour at its
elucidation, but our success, we la profitable members of their father's house-
ment to say, has yet been very
Manchester Poetry.
69
unces. And now, having eased our it prudent at the approach of the ter.
mind, as the old casuists used to say, rible crisis, to fortify his spirits by a
we must turn our attention to the ex- copious and genial libation.
traordinary frontispiece which stares But enough of the plateOur next
book. We regret extremely that we which ushers in the delectable poems.
cannot transfer it into our Magazine in We present it to our readers, as a spe-
its original state, as an everlásting cimen of our author's
prose, and an
puzzle for the ingenuity of our read example of metaphorical elegance. Pure
in the play, very mysterious and hiero fancy, which can deduce matter of il-
glyphical, infinitely more perplexing lustration from the Quarter Sessions,
than any of those yearly enigmas which and the House of Correction.
appearinthat prophetical work, Moore's “ The heterogeneous Children, disposed
Ähnanack. Our anxiety to get at the herein according to their respective tempe.
have actually passed several nights time, (several of them, indeed, longer than
a seven-years' apprenticeship,) idle and un-
small. -are sent into the world, in order to
At one time we conceived it å repre- yet with no other recommendation, (Hea-
make some sort of provision for themselves ;
sentation of Adam and Eve in a state ven help them !) than self-report,-- which,
of innocence, and certainly there is a by the way, people of thoughtful discretion
beast in the corner which is ugly enough and forecast consider but a scurvily-slender
for the serpent himself. But, besides loop, whereby to suspend so pretty a gim-
that
, there is a fourth character in the crack as Hope !
piece, whom, upon this supposition, “ However, if all of them prove honest
We cannot make out; Adam would enough to escape the jail of infamy-and
then be represented with a bowl of even one (beit the veriest dapperling amongst
would hardly be perfectly
in character. tlement in the Republic of Letters,—the
At one time we interpreted it to deli: parent's most lively expectations will be an.
neate Hunt in Ilchester prison, solacing surance to the whole Bench of worshipful
swered, to the full: and he gives his as.
bis sorrows with a drop of the good Critics, that it will not entirely break his
creature in despite of his jailor, ad- heart, (though, peradventure, 'tis pretty
umbrated in the blatant beast in the well fraught with fatherly affection) to be-
corner, and of the two persons in the hold the rest of his offspring, each by vir.
back ground, who appear to be anxi- tue of a vagabond's pass, return-in rags
pusly cheapening a yard of ribband. -to their native parish of Obscurity.”
Unfortunately for this view of the case, We are afraid there is something
there is no appearance of any of these more here than meets the eye. It is
outward and visible signs whích “du- surely rather an unprecedented intro-
rance vile” generally brings along with duction to a book of poetry foran author
it. Here the parties seem quite at ease, to commence by displaying his accurate
and Mr Hunt himself appears as com- knowledge of the vagrant laws. There
fortable in every respect as if he were must certainly be some deep, some in-
in his own house, (i.e. if he have one) scrutable sense attached to this para-
with a select party of friends, toasting graph, for, in its obvious meaning, we
Annual Parliamentsand Universal Suf. fear it has no sense at all. It cannot
frage
. This interpretation has, too, ano- surely be that this introduction, though
ther sınall defect, that it is not entire- . apparently recommendatory of his va-
ly consistent with chronology; but this gabond offspring, is to be extended to
We regard as trivial. Great' men are their unfortunate father, who stands in
not to be circumscribed by rules, and more need of a settlement than his
as Shakespeare went before time, it is . children. It cannot surely be that this
not reasonable that Mr Paynter should great man's labours have been under
follow after it. Upon the whole, we are the inspection and superintendance of
very dubious on the subject, but are parish officers and beadles, those very
inclined to think that the plate has incompetent cultivators of poetical ge-
some reference to the Manchester mas- nius. It cannot surely be that a re-
sacre, and perhaps to the part our au- commendation so modestly made and
thor performed in it, who might deem delicately insinuated should have been
3


70
Manchester Poetry.
[April,
made and insinuated in vain. Alas! there is something exceedingly awful
that such things should be. When and championlike :-
will genius be rewarded ? When will
" Let the wolfish king beware,
modesty be preferred? Shall Parnas Or by the gods I'll make him yell."
sian bards stand in awe of the over In the next piece, the Solitary Bard,
seer's whip, or write their eternal poems & representation, doubtless, of Mr
in their removals from parish to parish, Paynter himself, we discern many
and from township to township, which, delightful outpourings of sensibility:
now glad to get rid of them, will at one There isa sweet description of his rural
time contend for the honour of their abode in Manchester,“ seated on the
nativity? Shame on ye, men of Man- margin of a lake,” we presume the
chester! Have ye no bowels, ye cotton reservoir of some factory, near which,
spinners and manufacturers? Is there like Master Stephen, Mr Paynter is
no Mecenas in your factories, or wont to sit upon a stool, and be me-
Buckingham in your courts ? no one lancholy like a gentleman. Enviable
who wishes to have fame at a cheap indeed is the situation of a poet, he
rate, and has ambition beyond the cal- can see “ silver waves” and majestic
culations of his ledger? No one willing swans where the little dirty factory
to receive dedications in lieu of bank boys about him can discern nothing
notes, and immortality in exchange for but a pond of water as black as ink,
filthy lucre? Open your purses, and and a dead dog, perchance, floating at
impart of your superfluity to one who the top of it. The following tribute to
stands among ye, willing and ready to the memory of our author's parents it
receive it. So shall you have a Poet were injustice to suppress; and we can-
Laureate, who shall dignify your fogs not but approve of the conduct of his
as Pindar did his native Bæotia, who father in debarring his son from clas-
shall blazon forth with laudable per- sical lore, in order that he might have
severance the perfections of your bodies leisure to cultivate his vernacular
and the excellencies of yourminds, who tongue with that elegance and effect
shall exalt your police meetings with which his poems display.
his Odes, and your commercial clerks' “His Sire, who, in the heyday noon of life,
meetings with his Songs; your deaths
Cloy'd with the luxuries of garnish'd
with his Monodies, and your marriages
pomp,
with his Epithalamia ; your newspa-
Hither retir'd on wreck of princely wealth,
pers with his Stanzas, and your Christ-
And with a Yokemate, chaste as Vesta's
self,
mas meetings with his Charades; and
Transfus'd into his mind the hate of
- who may, in the maturity of his
pride,
powers and the fulness of his grati Which soon begat a gust for solitude;
tude, even write a blank Epic poem, in And though himself pre-eminently vers'd
imitation of Dyer's Fleece, entitled In the rich fruitage of old Greece and
Paynter's Cotton.
Rome,
But now for the poetry. We are
Made him but master of his mother-
first presented with an imitation of tongue.”
Drayton's Nymphidia, denominated Eastcheap in the Shades next fol-
Dwarfish Warfare, or the Battles of lows, where we are introduced to our
the Fairies. The worthy chronicler old acquaintances Falstaff, Poins, Bar-
of these great engagements appears to dolph, and Dame Quickly, whose very
have been truly impressed with the reasonable expostulation with the Fat
dignity of his subject. His language, Knight will fully prove, we think, that
therefore, rises proportionably. in- Shakespeare must quail to his imita-
stead of the Dog Days, the term adopt- tor.
Our author subsequently, in a
ed in common parlance, we meet with very ingenuous manner, confesses him-
the Dog's own Days, which we prefer, self guilty of the grievous sin of diffi-
as more elevated, and as giving the dence. This instance, we are sure,
Devil, or rather the Dog, his due. will be sufficient to prove that the fault
Many other felicities of diction are only exists in the imagination of this
equally apparent. We, however, en- solitary and self-accusing bard.
tirely abstain from giving a further ac-
“Swift as domestic Tiger clutches Mouse,
count of this precious morceau, merely
Mine Hostess cry'd— Thou knave,
calling the attention of our reader to
revile my house!
the following declaration, in which
Was it for this I bought thee Holland.
shirts,
---


1821.]
Manchester Poetry.
71
And mark'd thy filthy name upon the When, afar, he observ'd a proud City's
skirts ?
bright spires,
Thy Tailor paid, for coats of finest nap,— His bosom was heated with opposite fires;
For which I ne'er receiv'd a finger-snap? He rail'd at his fellows, with merciless hate,
Did I nut give thee, gratus, bed and And tax'd with injustice the rulings of
board,
Fate !-
Whilst thou unconscionable reck’nings Yet, when the arch'd welkin was tranquil
scor'd ?
and clear,
Was I not by thee, at thy latter end,- The thoughts of the past would engender
And pray'd the Saints thy broken heart a tear,
to mend ?---
Which stealing, apace, down his travel.
And can'st thou, vassal-slave, use gain'd scars,
calamy
He pity'd mankind, and forgave his ill
'Gainst one who was so parlous kind to stars!
thee?..
Ah, fie upon thy naughty varlet's tongue, One Friend, whom he lov'd, yet remain a
Which, like a pismire, has mine honour A Brother that Friend ;—from the place of
stung!
We are next regaled by an Ode and
his birth,
an Allegory, both of which, though an exile for ten weary years he had been,-
excellent in their way, we are obliged By his Country remember'd and honour'd,
to pass over. The following Tale, which His spirit was lofty,—(Orsino his name,)
we extract entire, is designed certainly In the field he had sought and acquir'd
“ To ope the sacred source of sympathetic honest fame :-
tears."
He brav'd a false Noble, who fell in the
It is very sad indeed. Draw out your strife,
handkerchief, good reader, for here is And valiant Orsino was banish'd for life!
matter that would melt a heart of
His raiment now tatter'd-the mock of the
stone.
wind
“ The Lunatic and the Outcast ; A Tale. Heavy-burthen'd his heart, and all-joyless
his mind,
By Friendship undone ---by his Mistress Young Leon had journey'd through regions
betray'd, ---
unknown,-
A Bankrupt in Fortune and Happiness Enduring the frigid, and fierce torrid zone ;
made;
When, seated one even in sad reverie,
Disown'd by his equals ---revil'd by the On the measureless beach of the 'wide
mean,--
Caspian Sea,-
'Midst Pride's bitter taunts, and the clamour At the foot of a steep frowning cliff, he
of Spleen,
beheld
Young Leon his birth-place---a gay Tuscan A poor naked Maniac, who frightfully
town
yell’d!
At twilight abandon'd, with sorrows weigh'd
down;
Ungracious his aspect_his eye sternly
Fierce tempests of anguish his thoughts He laugh'd whilst in anger,—and horribly
wild,
rudely hurl'd,
smil'd ;-
A pennyless Outcast, he fled from the world.
From his grim boxen visage, black tresses
O'er the wild blasted heath, and the bleak hung down,
barren hill,
Dank sea-weed he wore round his head, as
On the cataract's brink,-by the foul sedgy
rill,
On the sharp cragged rocks that defac d
'Mid whirlwinds and thunders that shook the smooth strand,
the firm Ball,
He cast himself headlong, and clutch'd
He wander'd and suffer'd, -unpity'd by the hot sand;
all!-
Then, savag'd by phrensy, sprung up-
Not e'en the poor peasant-himself sorely with void stare,-
press'd,)
And maim'd his swarth forehead, and
With a sigh of compassion his pilgrimage tore his lank hair !
bless d !-
His head was oft pillow'd by fragments of When he saw the lone Outcast, he utter'd
wood,
rude howls,
Marshy water his drink, moorland berries Like those of the wolf when in forests he
his food.
prowls ;-
a crown.
Calumny.


72
Manchester Poetry
[April,
LYCIDAS.
tore
Advanc'd a few paces, then paus'd, as in woman needless, at the sudden evil of
doubt,
this “ innocent Cain?" It is verily a
Now, fixing his eye-ball, -now, gazing most melancholy, catastrophe, and
about
should in future be a warning to the
At length, with clench'd hands and quick keepers of asylums how they suffer
gasping with ragem
He rush'd feetly forward, the Stranger
their patients to go abroad to the da-
t'engage;
mage of our lord the king, and the
And while, with shrewd signals and fear and consternation of his subjects.
gestures, he brav'd,
Qur author's Bucolical inspirations
His feet toss’d the sand, - and thus, furious, come next, and Theocritus and Virgil
he ray'd :
hide their diminished heads. The for.
· Arch-rebel! com’st thou with intent to place, for what were the banks of
mer has certainly the advantages of
purloin
A Monarch’s regalia--his jewels and coin ? the Cydnus or Mincio, to those of the
I'm King o'the Elements clouds are my river Mersey, or the Duke of Bridge-
steeds
water's Canal! Lend us your ears,
I grasp all the thunders, and do mighty good folks, and listen to the Bucolics
deeds!
of this Manchester Tityrus. One
The wind is my grandsire-a dormouse my speech only we can quote.
dam-
O' Sundays, I marry the tiger and lamb !
Fly-fly my dominions ! or by the three
Zones
-
“O, that this breast were turn'd to lifeless
I'll pluck out thy sinews, and rive all thy
clay!
bones!'
Yet Wisdom speaks, and I must needs obey.
He boisterous spoke, and all-frantickly My truant flocks again shall jointly feed,
And bask at will, in their own verdant mead;
A huge fragment of rock from the desolate My moping Dog again shall range the lawn,
shore :
And, wakeful, guard the fold, from Eve to
He rais'd it; when Leon his jeopardy saw,
Dawn:
Observ'd, in a trice, gentle Nature's first Tho'sad at heart, I'll seem as blithe a Swain,
law,-
As e'er ply'd crook, or pip'd the jocund
And smote the poor Maniac, who, fearfully
strain.
maim'd,
But (woe thc while !) should Phyllis still
Toppled down on the waste,--and, scarce
breathing, exclaim'd-
Her cruel scorn, and ne'er appear to rue,--
Ah, Leon—sweet Brother-come, lend My Dog may pine; my Lambs deserted,
me thine aid !
stray ;-
'Tis Orsino who calls—in his winding-sheet My crook and pipe, at once, I'll cast away ;
laid !
And straight retiring to this silent Vale,
I'll lay me down,-and, dying, end my
This said,- with a faint suspiration-he
Bale."
dy'd !
The horror-struckOutcast, in agony, cry'd..
Attentive to the last, you see, to the
: 0, sorrow of sorrows! too weighty to affairs of the warehouse. The eyes of
bear! -
this Lycidas, who, we opine, was a
Mine own Brother I've slaughter'd !_Now packer, could not be closed in peace
welcome Despair !”
till the bale was made up. What a
He wept o'er the body,--and kiss'd its cold stroke of nature! What excellent con-
cheek,
sistency of delineation! The author
Then, piercing the air with a piteous shriek, has here contrived to unite the before-
Swift Aed tow’rd the billows an innocent deemed-incompatible characters of
Cain-
a Manchester warehouseman and an
And buried himself—and his griefs in Arcadian shepherd! He has managed
the Main."
to depict a genius who can tend sheep
We are now completely overcome, and pack up bales with equal facility.
and must exclaim with Lady Frost in Henceforth let us no more talk of the
the play, “You have conquered, sweet, breathings of the Doric flute, but more
melting, moving Sir, you have conquer- judiciously reserve our admiration for
ed! What heart of marble can refrain the louder sounds of the Manchester
to weep, and yield to such sad say- trumpet.
ings.” Who is there, indeed, whose Tales, fables, monodies, odes, elegies,
eyes shall not overflow with tears, and epitaphs, and epigrams, and all the
render us the labours of the washer. small artillery of the Muses, now fol-
pursue
7


1821.]
Manchester Poetry.
73
99
low in formidable array, to excite our his hands from picking and stealing,
wonder and astonishment at the versa- especially from our good author, who
tility of this Manchester Bard. We had surely every reason to believe he
are sorry we have not room for a spe- might continue unmolested. We re-
cimen of our author's powers in each gard the fact as awfully characteristic
of these different lines ; but alas, we of the present times. It is come to a
cannot be for ever transcribing, even pretty pass indeed, when the dead arise
from poetry so luscious as Mr Payn- to deprive us of our property: We
ter's. This great man appears capable shall not be surprised soon to hear of
of writing de omni scibili et de quolibet coaches robbed, and purses rifled, by
ente. There is nothing too great or resuscitated highwaymen and pickpoc-
too little for his wonderful powers. He kets.
can wield the sword of Goliah and the We are, amongst other interesting
missile of David, at one and the same pieces, next presented with a very plea-
time. His genius absolutely appears sant epistolary communication between
co-extensive with poetry itself. His the gout and our author; and also with
book is a compendium or abstract " of divers songs,&c. spoken before the Man-
the wisest and best of all other men's chester Philanthropical Society. How
books," the very choicest culling of the the gout and our author became con-
Hyblæan Honey. Equal in beauty is nected, God knows—they are two of
his prose. His Introduction we have the last persons between whom we
before inserted, but the following note, should have expected an acq tance.
written apparently to prove that the Probably, however, the latter produc-
author of Paradise Lost has pillaged tion may explain the former, and the
from the author of the Muse on Idle primitive diet of Parnell's Hermit may
ness, it would be unpardonable to omit. not be much in requisition amongst
“Not so, the BEE; who quickly found
the members of the above-mentioned
An access to the pulp profound;"
benevolent institution.
“ His food was herbs, his drink the crystal
* Think not, most courteous, thrice-gen. well.”
tle, and indulgent Reader, that our Au-
thor hath here plagiarised the Miltonian
We begin to suspect by the way,
Idiom. “ Pulp profound,” independent from this circumstance, that Mr Payn-
ly of its alliterative clegance, is undoubt- ter's case is not quite so bad as we sup-
edly a rare example of " The Sublime and posed, in our warm, and we hope elo-
Beautiful ;" yet, the Bard of Eden hath quent appeal to the benevolence of the
no more claim to it, than the Philosopher Manchester people. We really now
of China. "Twas the divine emanation of have a notion that his residence is not
his own deep sagacity, and purely of his so near to heaven by two stories as
own fashioning ; ergo, according to all the
we imagined before. Be he, however,
principles of equity, he certainly ought to
near heaven, or near earth, or in Ma-
enjoy the sole and entire credit of it ?”
homet's Paradise between both, he is
This is a very clear case indeed. As a personage who deserves promotion ;
we understand the note, there is a mat- and if his humility, which, as our rea-
ter of plagiarism to be settled between ders will hereafter see, is his only fail-
Milton and Paynter, about this same ing, confine him at present to the
“pulp profound," and certainly if the ground floor, we hope a time will come
latter gentleman have not pillaged from when he will verify the gospel saying,
the former, the former must have pil “ That he who humbleth himself shall
laged from the latter. Now Mr Payn- be exalted.".
ter comes forward like an honest man, An epitaph on a lap-dog comes next,
gives us his asseveration, which we re- commemorating the various virtues and
gard the same as proof, that the steal- endowments of the deceased. After an
ing was not on his side, and that these interval, the Plain-dealing Lover, in
two words are his own sole and exclue which our author, after recounting the
sive property. After this, it is impos- various beauties who have made as-
sible to doubt where the mal-feasance saults upon his heart, concludes, as
lies, and accordingly we charge John might be expected from the possessor
Milton with petit larceny on Mr Payn- of such poetical powers and intellectual
ter's goods and chattels. Truly it is a acomplishments, by declaring, that he
strange thing that our great epic poet, loves himself the best. And let no one
dead and departed as he is, cannot keep impute this to superabundance of va-


74
Manchester Poetry
[April,
nity or self love. It is not easy for a Forgets the sapient Grecian's classic Rules,
man to tell what he might say or do, And all the irksomelumber of the schools,
were he equally gifted with Mr Payn- Tocull the honey from thy dædal plays,-
The wildest sweet,--the sweetest past all
ter; were we but in that enviable pre-
dicament, we should, we are persua- Great Nature's Minion ! Fancy's fav’rite
praise !—
ded, be continually absorbed, like the
Flower !
Indian god, in the contemplation of The Muse's Darling! Foe to Art's frail
our own excellencies ; and this Maga pow'r !
zine, and all that therein is, might in “We few, we happy few," with rev'rence
that case, go to the Red Sea for aught free,
we should care, any thing Mr Black- This tglass—now blushing-consecrate to
wood might say to the contrary there Thee."
of, in any wise notwithstanding. How we envy those happy friends
We have before said, that diffidence who were included in the select and
appears to be the chief foible of our Shakespeare-loving party! What a
author. There are some who may be feast of reason and flow of soul must
inclined perhaps to question this our have been exhibited here! With what
assertion. Let them therefore listen agusto must the favoured bonvives have
to the poet himself, who surely ought discussed their black strap, (unless the
to know best.
port be intended for porter, which we
« Distressful state !
are inclined to believe,) and the works
Scarce equall'd by the pangs of hopeless
of the commemorated poet, in the pre-
Love.
sence of his greatest living representa-
Whilst happier Bards, dismayless, mount tive! We fancy we see at this very mo.
on high,
ment some hulking, butcher-like look-
And warble forth their vary'd strains su. ing man, with greasy leather breeches
blime,
and scarlet waistcoat, a face running
With feeble hand, my Muse attunes her down with perspiration, and eyes ab
lyre,
solutely starting out of their sockets
In taine subjection to this Giant Fear ;
Which AU, through childhood, more or observations to the president, (who in
with exertion, rising up to offer some
less, endure;
But few, in modern times, save those whose
this case can be no other than Mr
nerves
Paynter himself,) on the character of
Are exquisitely wrought, its mast'ry bear
Romeo, and dilating with extraordina-
Beyond their boyish and unthoughtful ry sensibilty on his unhappy love. He
days."
might perchance, be followed by some
little mortified man, “one of nine,
The following lines to the memory whose appearance instantly indicated
of Shakespeare, were delivered to a his occupation, and round whose mouth
small party of friends, who assembled the bees might have swarmer, were it
to commemorate the day on which that not for the mustard which lingered
poet died, and gratifying indeed must thereon, discoursing with all the en-
it have been to have heard such lines thusiasm of a kindred spirit, on the
pronounced on such an occasion.
exalted character of Coriolanus. Such
“ 'Twas on this day, two hundred years company as this who would not covet ?
ago,
Alas, why were not we too invited to
The purple tide of Shakespeare ceas'd to the feast. It would indeed have been
a thing to talk of all our lives, and
This day, grim Death o'er Stratford wing'd proud indeed would have been the
his flight,
moment, when, on some future com-
Resolv'd to show Mankind his keenest memoration day of Shakespeare, we
spite :-
Swift to its aim his shaft unerring sped, - happiness of drinking a bumper to the
could exclaim, “On this day we had the
The Poet fell the soul of Genius fled.-
O, star-like Shakespeare ! Pride of ev'ry memory of Shakespeare, with W. D.
Paynter, author of the tragedy of Eu-
The Prince,—the God,--the Glory of the rypilus !"
Stage !
But our enthusiasm is carrying us
When, like the lark, aloft thy spirit soars, beyond the limits allotted for our re-
The Critic wonders,—but the Bard adores! view. We must return to the subject
How ;
age!
* Aristotle.
+ Port-winc.


1921.7
Manchester Poetry.
75
and close our extracts by the follow in the literary world, we have attempt-
ing, which indeed might have indif ed' to shew; what wonderous effects his
ferently done, as a beginning, middle, example may produce, it is not so
and conclusion.
easy to predict. We hope and trust it
will excite an universal spirit of emu-
« NONSENSE.
lation, and that in the minds of all;
An Example of Holiday Poesy. from the lowest factory-boy to the
"-full of sound and fury, highest cotton-spinner, the love of
" Signifying pothing." - Shakespeare.
« The shafts of Cupid hurtle in the wind; Thus shall arise to this great man a
poetry may be kindled like a flame.
The plumy vesture of his mother's doves
Seems sweetly swan-like, to the enamour'd more complete honour than that of
mind;
Orpheus, the civilizer of barbarous
And all the graces look ten-thousand nations, viz. that of having implanted
Loves !”
in the very bales and bagmen of Man-
Really this was completely a work chester, poetical fervour and feeling.
of supererogation. After so many gra- Thus shall Mitchell's Interest Tables,
tuitous specimens of this sort of wric and Lord Byron's Falieri, lie in appro-
tíng, our good and pains-taking author priate juxta-position on the same coun-
was really carrying the joke too far, to ter and desk; while in the place of in-
give us as a new thing, what every spiration, shall be visible the Muse in
page of the book from the first to the Idleness and the Rhyming Dictionary;
last, presented. Besides, where was and an entry into the Ledger, and the
the need of imitating others in this completion of a Stanza, shall follow
style, when he writes himself so much each other in alternate succession. Thus
with the spirit of an original? But shall pattern books of prints, and pat-
this we impute to the great modesty tern books of poetry, issue from Man-
of our author, who appears not to know chester to the north and to the south,
what he is capable of doing or has and to the east and to the west, and
done. It is, of course, incumbent up- returned bills and returned plays, be
on us to set him right. Let him, there sent back to that place in thousands by
fore, for the future, give himself no the same capacious and comprehensive
trouble in excogitating titles for his packet. Thus shall we hear of new
various productions. The general and Bloomfields, Dermodies, and Clares,
comprehensive one he has here given starting ap in regular and unbroken
to this last, will equally serve for all. array, and their poems shall be adorn-
We have heard an eminent author say, ed by a preliminary essay, written by
that it is less difficult to write a poem some patronizing oracle of the counter.
or play, than it is to find a name for it "Nor will the good effects to be produ-
when it is written. If this be the casc, ced by Mr Paynter's lucubrations, be
how much is Mr Paynter obliged to us confined to the town 'which has the
for this felicitousand universal appella. happiness of possessing that great bard.
tion, which, while it will save himself We also we speak it with exultation
much mental distraction and trouble, -shall reap of the plenteous harvest.
will at once be acknowledged by every The commercial book-keepers, print-
one who sees it, to be concise, signifie ers' devils, and attorneys clerks of
cant, and just.
Manchester, will dispose themselves
Such are the prosaical and poetical through our pages in all the varieties
labours of D. W. Paynter, author of of ode, epigram, elegy, satire, and son-
the tragedy of Eurypilus, Commemo- net, and thus our Magazine receive a
rator of Shakespeare, Professor of the new impetus from the offerings which
Vagrant Laws, and Poet Laureat to shall monthly be brought to us by the
the Manchester Philanthropical Socie-commercial travellers from this peren-
ty. What great things he has achieved nial Fount of the Muses.
VOL. IX.
K


76
[April,
The September Forest.
THE SEPTEMBER FOREST.
WIThin a wood I lay reclined,
Upon a dull September day,
And listen'd to the hollow wind,
That shook the frail leaves from the spray.
I thought me of its summer pride,
And how the sod was gemm'd with flowers,
And how the river's azure tide
Was overarch'd with leafy bowers.
And how the small birds caroll’d gay,
And lattice work the sunshine made,
When last, upon a summer day,
I stray'd beneath that woodland shade.
And now it was a startling thought,
And flash'd like lightning o'er the mind,
That like the leaves we pass to nought,
Nor, parting, leave a track behind !
Gom-trace the church-yard's hallow'd mound,
And, as among the tombs ye tread,
Read, on the pedestals around,
Memorials of the vanish'd dead.
They lived like us--they breathed like us-
Like us, they loved, and smiled, and wept;
But soon their hour arriving, thus
From earth like autumn leaves were swept.
Who, living, care for them ?- not one!
To earth are theirs dissever'd claims;
To new inheritors have gone
Their habitations, and their names !
Think on our childhood-where are they,
The beings that begirt us then ?
The lion Death hath dragg’d away
By turns, the victim to his den!
And springing round, like vernal flowers,
Another race with vigour burns,
To bloom a while,-for years or hours,
And then to perish in their turns !
Then be this wintry grove to me
An emblem of our mortal state;
And from each lone and leafless tree
So wither'd, wild, and desolate,
This moral lesson let me draw,
That earthly means are vain to fly
Great Nature's universal law,
And that we all must come to die !
However varied, these alone
Abide the lofty and the less ,-
Remembrance, and a sculptured stone,
A green grave, and forgetfulness !
A.


1891.]
The Wail of Lady Anne.
THE WAIL OF LADY ANNE.
A SHIP came bounding with the gale,
I watch'd with eager gaze the sail,
More near it came--it journied on,
And on the beech I stood alone !
I heard the sound of horses' feet,-
And out I rush'd my knight to greet;
But fast they gallopp'd past the gate,
And left me standing desolate !
Oh! when, from foreign climes, shall come,
To part no more, my warrior home?
When, to these halls, a welcome guest,
Shall he return, and I be blest!
At twilight's still, and sombre hour,
Alone I seek the rosy bower,
And think of times when it was sweet,
In secret there with him to meet.
And I will teach his baby fair
To kneel, and lisp a gentle prayer ;
And Heaven will hear us, as we pray
In love, nor turn from both away!
Haste-haste across the foaming seas,
Thou tardy ship, and woo the breeze ;
With hoofs of speed, and sides of foam,
Speed, barb, and bear Sir William home!
LETTER FROM FOGARTY O'FOGARTY, ESQUIRE,
Inclosing Fourth Carto of Daniel Ở Rourke.
DEAR SIR,
I suppose you think I am dead, but I am happy to inform you that I am
still in the land of the living. I went out on the shooting-match with Tom
Hungerford, as your correspondent H. informs you, (and that is the only word
of truth in his letter) and had a very pleasant time of it indeed, for three or
four days. 'Twas just at the end of the partridge season, and I flatter myself
that I am as fine a shot as my neighbours. I was getting on, knocking down
my eight or ten brace a-day, when just on beating up a cover of Lord Car-
bery's (the same nobleman whose loyal and elegant little pamphlet you have
Lately noticed) our party was joined by a couple of people from Cork, who
had just been emancipated from the counter, I believe, and though mere pro-
vincials like myself, were complete Cockneys in sporting. One of these wor-
thies in the first shot that he fired, levelling at a hay-stack, I imagine, for no
other object except myself was within range of his piece, but missing it, put
the contents of his gun (and they were at least a finger too much) right into
the centre of my hand. I have lost two fingers by the accident, (the surgeons
here call them metacarpal bones,--I am sure they are fingers) but have re-
covered the use of my band again, as you may perceive, though my penman-
ship is somewhat altered for the worse. You will own then, I had some other
fish to fry, beside continuing Daniel O'Rourke for you. I declare, upon ho-


T8
Letter from Fogarty OʻFogarty.
[April,
nour, I had not my pen to paper, until the day before yesterday, since I wrote
the third canto; and I now send you the fourth, which I hope you will receive
in time to make its appearance in your 49th number. You were wrong to print
Holts' letter about himself and spider. My poem came into his hands without
my knowledge, and I have severely rebuked those who entrusted it to him. I
am surprised how you allowed yourself to be humbugg'd by him, but you are
not the only Magazine he plays upon, as Professor - can tell you. De-
pend upon it, (save accidents) you shall have Cantos Fifth and Sixth in due
course ; meanwhile, believe me to be,
Dear Sir,
Yours, &c.
FOGARTY O' FOGARTY.
Blarney, April 1, 1821.
P. S. I am told Mathews has made use of my poem at some of his exhibi-
tions. I am too remote from London to get authentic intelligence on theatri.
cal affairs, but he is quite welcome, particularly as I am sure he has done it
justice. I remember supping, after the play, with Mathews when he was last
in Dublin, at Tom Lee’s of the Shamrock, and a mighty pleasant fellow I found
him to be. We were together until four in the morning!
VANIEL O'ROURKE,
An Epic Poem, in Six Cantos,
BY FOGARTY O'FOGARTY, ESQ. Or BLARNEY.
CANTO IV.
THE MOON.
t' inquire
Whether the moon be sea or land
Or charcoal or a quench'd firebrand;
Or if the dark holes that appear
Are only pores, not cities there?
BUTLER
Lungo sarà, se lutte in verso ordisco
Le cose, che gli fur quivi dimostrc,
Chè dopo mille, e mille io non finisco,
E vi son tutte l'occorrenze nostre.
ARIOSTO, Canto 34.
1.
Blessed ! thrice blessed was the age of gold,
Of which so much the ancient poets sing;
I laud it not, because the rivers rollid
In streams of milk, to ocean wandering;
Nor because mountains rose, which we are told
Were built of buns, or many a nicer thing;
Or because oaks distill’d the honey sweet,
And most melodious pigs ran roasted through the street.


1821.]
Daniel OʻRourke. Cunto W.
2.
These famous glories of old Lubberland,
I own were never yet admired by me;
Milk I ne'er deem'd a beverage o'er grand,
Whether supp'd plain, or dabbled into tea;
For such weak drink, let Cockney bards expand
Their ass-like jaws,-it suits their poetry:
In syllabubs 'twill pass : for to my thinking,
Your syllabub is mighty pleasant drinking.
3.
Honey and buns,—but curse me if I pen
For themes like these, my ever-living rhyme;
But blest, thrice blessed will I say again,
Were the glad ages of the golden time;
For then there lived an honest race of men,
Who would have thought it folly, ay or crime,
Were any one to think himself so bright,
As to refuse due credence to his sight
These days are gone! this glorious happy age,
When every man believed the things he saw;
Where none sought truth in learning's mystic page,
Or bow'd the knee to philosophic law;
When nature knew not telescope, nor sage
Swallowing down science with omnivorous maw;
Great is the change, but I shall scarce allow,
'That things are any better managed now.
In former times, men thought the glorious Moon
Was something near a supper plate in size,
And no one would have ventured to impugn
The man who trusted to his naked eyes;
And all would laugh right fairly at the loon,
Who'd tell of hills and mountains in the skies; (1)
But now, good thanks to telescopic glass,
He who his senses trusts is deem'd an ass.
6.
Who would have dared, except by way of fun,
In times of old, to say that Luna's face
Into some thousand miles in breadth was spun,
And that above she filld a monstrous space;
Who'd have believed, that gaily round the sun,
This earth kept moving at a steady pace;
Or that the stars were filld with merry creatures,
Just like ourselves in wisdom and in features.
7.
None-no, not one! and they were right, you'll find,
For Newton's self knew nothing of the matter ;
Astronomers were either mad or blind,
Thus through the world such heaps of trash to scatter,
For e'er I've done I'll satisfy each mind,
The Moon's not bigger, spite of all their chatter,
Than a round jolly butt of joyous ale,
Or good Sir William's face, or Lady ****'s tail. (2)


80
[April,
Daniel OʻRourke. Canto IV.
8.
For I presume it must appear quite plain,
That Dan advantage had of all before,
For none besides himself, I will maintain,
Did thus into the lunar region soar ;
Astronomers, and poets lacking brain,
Against these truths, perhaps, may fume and roar;
But on my word, I mind them not a jot,
But credit Dan ;-for Dan was on the spot.
9.
I'll ask what Ariosto could have known,
Who never left this earth for half a minute;
Who never on an eagle's back had flown
To the bright Moon, to see what fun was in it.
I think the poet should at least have shown,
Some proof for what he said was found within it;
But the fact is, (it strikes us with conviction)
That all this bard has sung is purely fiction.
10.
Credit me, gentle reader, that not one
Is true of all the various tales he told,
The Moon contains not the apostle John,
Nor vases made lost senses to enfold;
Milton, who says, that tenements thereon,
Translated saints, and middle spirits hold,
Is just as wrong. (Pope's epic of the Lock,
I quite pass by, because 'tis only mock.)
11.
Now how could Dan have sat at all with ease,
If he had Herschel's mighty Moon to straddle,
Tell me my friend, Sir William, if you please,
How he could cross a thousand miles of saddle.
'Tis evident absurdities like these,
Were humbugs merely,-barely fiddle-faddle;
Something (I mention it without apology)
Meant for mere lies like Phillips's Chronology. (3)
12.
Oh! brave Sir Dick !--my pen cannot refrain
From laying down an offering at thy throne;
A foe to Newton, and a friend to Paine;
Rival to Cobbett and to Billy Hone!
Thou who with highest wisdom can maintain
That Nap's a god, and Wellington a drone;
How sages will admire in ages hence,
The uncommon nonsense of thy “ Common Sense.'
13.
And now that I have proved these witlings knew
Nought
of the essence of that heavenly
ball,
I shall endeavour, in a word or two,
Just to explain the matter to you all,
Who grant me patient hearing; and in lieu
Of maudlin epithets, which only pall
On ears of taste, I'll give you, if you please,
In simple terms, its nature :-'Tis A CHEESE. (4)


1821.]
81
Daniel O'Rourke. Cunto IV.
14.
A large round cheese, of polisk'd silver hue,
(Not as some people fancy, blue or green,)
Measuring across, exactly eight foot two,
From side to side; where wondrous things are seen,
But not more wondrous, than in strictness true,
Which from my readers I'll no longer screen.
Dan was not many minutes there before
In the mid Moon he spied a snug hall door.
15.
This, in the centre, did our friend behold,
But nothing more in that spot could he spy,
A misty vapour here in masses roll’d,
And quite deluded Daniel's prying eye;
But on the surface, on the outer mould,
Muddling in filth, a numerous, nimble fry
Of pigmy animals were here begotten,
And ran about such places as were rotten.
16.
And there were myriads of these little elves,
Tumbling and leaping, jostling, pushing, running,
Types, Dan could see, of beings like ourselves ;
Some bent on sport, on business the more cunning-
Some lumpish folíos, quartos some, or twelves
Some joking, crying, laughing, groaning, punning,
* In short such mites were here together hurľa,
Dan view'd the bustle of a mimic world.
17.
The fact is this; whatever mean or base,
Grovelling, or filthy fellow, lives down here,
Is pre-existent in the lunar space,
Like to a maggot in her cheesy sphere ;
And 'tis no wonder then, since that's the case,
That the same dirty natures will appear
Here on the globe of our sublunar earth,
As in the upper world, which gave them birth.
18.
By some strange art, I try not to expound,
Dan knew each insect at first glance, as easy
As the tyth proctor, or his pig in pound,
Or as his old companion at the Daisy ;
And though you'll say his intellect was drown'd
In brandy, and of course his optics mazy,
Yet the fact's true: He saw three years ago
The types of those who live here now below.
19.
(As for the matter of the Lord of day,
Although 'tis somewhat foreign to my theme,
Yet it, perhaps, is not amiss to say
That'tis no other than a cheese of cream:
There you will meet superior mites; for they
Who sport and wanton in the solar beam
Typify those predoom'd to be earth's glories,
Great poets, statesmen, warrior, wits, and tories.)
8


82
[ April,
Daniel O Raurke. Canto IV.
20.
Now aid me, potent ruler of the brain,
Parent of thought and polisher of rhyme,
Whiskey supreme! to send in dulcet strain
What Dan beheld along the stream of time;
For worthier theme there's none, I will maintain,
In any poem, lyric or sublime;
I care not in what pages you may look,
To Morgan Dagherty, from Lalla Rookh.
21.
Why should I go to washy Hippocrene?
I care not for such vapid water's flow!
'Tis you that add a spirit to the scene,
Clear the dull thoughts, and brighten up the brow;
Cowper a bard more jovial would have been,
Had he to mix a jolly bowl known how;
And Hogg, I'm sure, much more admired would be, (5).
Did he swig punch, and leave off drinking tea.
22.
Inspired by punch I've fashion'd many a tale ;
Inspired by punch I've counted o'er the past;
Inspired by punch I've weather'd many a gale,
And dared the storm and braved the wintry blast ;
Inspired by punch, unless the bowl should fail,
In the next verses I'll unfold the vast
Countless banditti, that our hero found,
Compassing this same mighty cheese around
23.
Stuck in a corner busy in a debate,
Dan saw a handful of most restless creatures,
Above them something like a bone of meat,
Which all were gazing at with hungry features,
And every tiny maggot at the bait
Strain'd with the utmost vigour of their natures:
But all in vain the luckless rogues endeavour,
Each effort put them farther back than ever.
24.
There he saw Tierney busy as a mouse,
Heading his myrmidons to snatch the bone;
There smart Sir Francis and his man Boghouse, (6)
And Lambton speeching till the lights are gone ;
There cranky Newport, not annoyed with vouc,
And Mr Creevy standing all alone;
There were the knights of the well-foughten field,
Bawling their spears, and face of brass their shield.
25.
With fundamental features high upraised,
Waddled on gallant Gordon, Knight of B-
There Peter Moore for wisdom aye be praised;
And there Montrose’s glory Joseph Hume; (8)
And he whose wit has all the realm amazed,
Whittington's rival, Waithman's gallant ehum.
(As for the Lords, I dare not to repeat 'em,
For fear 'twould be a scandalum magnatum.)
; (7)


1821. ]
83
Daniel O'Rourke. Canto IV.
26.
To know the next group Dan was forced to pause,
They seem'd so little and so busy too;
Beside, they raked up with their filthy claws,
So much thick dust that it obscured his view;
And froth so fast carse sputtering from their jaws,
That he could barely pierce the dulness through ;
At length, by dint of toil, our gallant Dan
Saw 'twas the gathering of the Cockney clan.
27.
(But they are all too worthless for my muse,
Such names my epic stanzas sha'nt pollute;
Let them be known to dwellers in the stews,
Where wanton strains their tenants loose embrute.)
There too, he did the other tribes peruse,
Who, or to tinkling lyre or sounding flute,
Perform sweet melody with force endued,
To charm themselves and plague the neighbourhood;
28.
Such as the poet of the sweet Queen's own,
Or snivelling Terrot, bard of common-place;
Or Willy Glass, whose punch-enticing drone (9)
Does the mysterious haunts of Masons grace ;
Or else—but why repeat the names unknown,
To us prime heroes of poetic race;
Why post in song the luckless crowds that write,
From Arctic Orkney to Antarctic Wight.
29.
There were the critics, ever-nibbling crew,
Who under various banners criticise ;
Those who haunt ancient Humbug's sage review, (10)
Which my dear grandam loves to patronize;
There were the petty monthly praters too ;
There Jeffrey's gentlemen, polite and wise :
There Smug S. Smyth traducing Mater Alma,
And Goody Barker preaching on αγάλμα,
30.
The Irish school of orators was there,
Stuck in a bag of metaphor and trope,
Headed by Phillips with monarchic air,
Phillips with whom no living mortals cope,
In pouring forth a flood of figures fair,
Frothy, and fine as bubbles blown from soap:
Sorry am I he's sail'd from us afar,
To waste his sweetness on the English bar.
31.
That many an ass from this romantic isle,
Besides the orators, were there 'tis plain;
And once I thought it almost worth my while,
To put some low Corcagians in my strain ;
But who would know them? who could know the vile
Junts of prigs that meet in Falk'ner's lane? (12)
Who'd understand me, if I nam'd the ass, who (13)
Swore that small beer inspir'd the muse of Tasso ?
Vol. IX.
L


84
[April
Daniel QʻRourke. Canta IK.
There too, he saw-but I had better stop ;
A very long cantata I have sung;
The matter, therefore, I shall quickly drop,
And go to bed sweet Blarney's groves among.
I hold that bard no better than a fop,
Who lingers at his story over long,
And keeps the honest people all suspended,
Who wish to know how his narration's ended. (14)
33.
Then to my tale- Dan saw these insects feeding
On all the fodder which they there could find,
Sweet food it was ! whatever sort of reading
On this our globe is scorn'd by all mankind,
Is, by a wond'rous system of proceeding,
Whipt to the moon upon the wings of wind,
And being musty, rotten, and strong smelling,
Is proper food for mites in old cheese dwelling.
34.
They feed on novels, by A. Newman sold,
Written by people dwelling near the sky;
On Mr Cobbett's paper versus gold,
On the Scots' Magazine-food hard and dry;
On Irish tales, by Lady Morgan told;
On Mr Godwin's elegant reply;(15),
And some have got as fat as any bullock,
By eating down whole columns of M‘Culloch.
35.
There they and many more are taken off,
Year after year, in never-ceasing number;
People, perhaps, who are inclined to scoff
May ask me where they stow such lots of lumber:
But if we should their earthly coverings doff,
They'll not be thought, I ween, much space to cumber;
Their true contents are all that upwards come,
And they are little more than vacuum,
36.
But trifling joy found Daniel in the sight
Of the proceedings of this maggot nation,
He would have thought himself as happy quite
If planted in his own clay habitation :
Said he, “ 'tis certain that I was not right,
To get into this state of civilation ; (16)
“Oh ! that I was,” he adds with sigh deep drawn,
“ Off of the back of this big Mullahąun.” (17)
37.
While thus he grieves, he hears a sudden sound
Of a door opening with a rusty creak,
And turning very cautiously around,
For dread of tumbling off had blanch'd his cheek,
He saw what might a stouter heart astound,
The
very door of which you heard me speak (18)
Thrust violently forth with noise of thunder,
And forth there came a thing at which you'll wonder!


1821. ]
85
Daniel OʻRourke. Canto IV.
NOTES.
(1) I must here remark, that your friend who signs himself the Midshipman, and
also he who goes under the forgery denomination of the Man in the Moon, are merely
gentlemen bent on frolic Not a word of what they say is authentic. Captain Kater,
I am sorry to perceive, is also on the same tack, when he publishes to the world that he
has discovered a volcano in the moon. This, as Peter Paragraph says, is pleasant, but
wrong. (2) Every man may fill this hiatus as he chuses. (3) A work, the merits of
which ought not to be told in a note ; suffice it to say in one line, it contains, at least, as
many lies as pages. For instance, he makes Lord Nelson, who was killed in 1805, take
Copenhagen in 1806; Cum multis aliis quæ nunc perscribere longum est. Look, for ex-
ample, at his account of Waterloo. (4) By this it appears the Welshmen are correct in
their Selenology, except as to colour. (5) Since marriage, I understand Mr Hogg has
turned tea-drinker, and mark the consequence. See how he has been since reviewed in
that competent authority the Edinburgh Review! He had better look to himself. (6.)
Erratum, for Boghouse, read Hobhouse, vid. Tentamen. (7) See New Whig Guide. He,
en his side of the question, somewhat resembles Lord Temple on his. Of the latter, it
was observed, that he answered the description of the Temple of Jerusalem in Tacitus.
Templum in modum arcis. (8) Put for Hume, by apocope, and for another reason.
Willison Glass, Esq. well known in this city of Edinburgh, C. N. (10) Editor of
the British Review, well spoken of in the Hour's Tete-a-Tete, and Don Juan. (11)
See Thes. (12) The Scientific and Literary Society of Cork, who meet in a bye-lane,
mentioned in the text. (13) A paper was produced at the above society, to prove some-
thing to this effect. (14) Let this be a hint to the story-teller of the Steam-boat. (15)
TO Malthus. When I heard of this reply, it reminded me of what my friend Jack
Carran said to Charley Philips. P. told him he intended to give Grattan a dressing
Never mind it, says Curran, it would be only a child throwing a pebble at the leg of a
Colossus. (16) A cant phrase in Cork for a state of intoxication. A worthy orator of
curs, who had taken a glass or two too much, was haranguing at a debating society on
the state of Ireland before the English invasion ; and the whole harangue was this
-Sir, the Irish had no civilation_civization--civilation, I mean. Finding, however,
his efforts to get civilization out impracticable, he sat down with the satisfaction of
having added a new word to our language. Every drunken man ever since is here said
to be in a state of civilation. (17) , soft Irish cheese. (18) St. XIV.
OWEN'S REPORT TO THE COUNTY OF LANARK.*
[We have received, within these few months, several good articles respecting
Mr Owen's celebrated system. We select one, written ably and temperately,
though we are not prepared to say that we agree with our correspondent in all
his arguments. We have much respect for Mr Owen, and think there is im-
portant and profound truth in many of his views. To separate his errors from
that truth, would be a work of some difficulty ; but no man is entitled to treat
with ridicule the general reasonings of the Philanthropist, which, while they
frequently exhibit no ordinary intellectual power, are always distinguished by
an amiable moral spirit.
C. N.]
Few names have filled the world's municating distinct ideas of the prin-
month more of late years than Mr ciples on which they themselves anti-
Owen's; and few projectors, while their cipate success. For ourselves at least,
schemes lay, yet in theory only, have we know, that previous to our visit to
EVET succeeded better in possessing the New Lanark, we neither knew nor
public with a knowledge of the objects cared very much about the matter. Mr
of their pursuit. And yet very few, we Owen's name had frequently sounded
believe, have ever been so unsuccess- in our ears, and we had heard gene-
ful in exciting in others a kindred en- rally of his speculations, sometimes in
thusiasm to their own, or even in comº respect, more frequently in derision ;
• Report to the County of Lanark of a Plan for Relieving Public Distress, and Re-
poving Discontent, by giving Permanent Productive Employment to the Poor and Work-
ing Classes, under arrangements which will essentially improve their Character, and
ameliorate their Condition, diminish the Expenses of Production and Consumption, and
create Markets co-extensive with Production. By Robert Owen. 4to. Wardlaw and
Cunninghame. Glasgow. 1821.


86
Owen's Report to the County of Lanark.
[April,
but we had no definite notions as to the ficient confutation of them ;)--and
points about them which excited either shall then proceed to answer, after our
sentiment. In like manner, when at manner, the questions above proposed,
the Mills we met a neighbouring cler-' -with more favour, we shall here pre-
gyman of our acquaintance escorting a mise, for much of Mr Owen's practi-
party of friends over them, (the fifth cal plans than will be expected from
or sixth time, as he told us, he had so the exposé of his theoretical views, with
done their honours,) and conscious of which we begin.
the disadvantages under which, through Mr Owen's positions, theoretical and
.this ignorance, we were making our practical, may be arranged, we think,
observations, we besought him to en to advantage, in the following order.
lighten us on the subject,-he, alas ! 1. Man is in no degree whatever a free
we found was not less wandering in agent, or accountable for his conduct.
the dark than ourselves. And many “One of the mostgeneral sourcesoferror
times since, while either perusing ac- and evil in the world, is the notion that
counts of this establishment in the pub- infants, children, and men, are agents
lic newspapers, or conversing with those governed by a will formed by them-
who have visited it, we have been selves, and fashioned after their own
struck, very much struck, with the de- choice. To those who possess any know-
gree in which nearly all have seemed ledge on the subject it is known, that
attracted by its minute and accessory man is the creature of circumstances,
details, its singing, dancing, machi- and that he really is, at every moment
nery, &c., while not one appeared to of his existence, precisely what the cir-
regard it as other than a curiosity in cumstances in which he is placed, com-
its way, mighty interesting to look at, bined with his natural qualities, make
but utterly unsound to build upon, and him."-Report, p. 41.
almost unworthy to be reasoned on at 2. Every system of government,
all. Why is this? we have said to our therefore, which involves the idea of in-
selves more than once. There is here dividual reward or punishment, praise
a glittering
promise, and nobody cares or blame, is founded on principles un-
about it—the theory of a system, and just in themselves, and inconsistent
nobody knows about it,-its professed with human nature. Through this
practice, and nobody penetrates it. It science,” that, namely, of the influence
is plain that the instinctive common of circumstances over human nature,
sense of the world is against the thing; “new mental powers will be created,
but is it on this occasion well found- which will place all those circumstan-
ed, or is there indeed ore at the bot- ces that determine the misery or hap-
tom of this shaft, although superficial piness of man under the immediate con-
observers will not stay to pick it up? troul of the present population of the
On the occasion to which we have world, and entirely supersede all ne-
alluded, although without other intro- cessity for the present truly irrational
duction than our curiosity, we had the system of individual rewards and pu-
honour to partake of Mr Owen's ge- nishments; a system which has ever
neral hospitality, and the very great been opposed to the most obvious dic-
pleasure of conversing with him free- tates of common sense and humanity,
ly during nearly the whole of a pretty and will no longer be permitted than
long evening. We are desirous, there while men continue unenlightened and
fore, of commenting on his system, barbarous.”—P. 32.
with the utmost deference towards 3. There is no inherent imperfec-
himself personally; but finding that tion in man's constitution, his vices in
he has just sent forth a new book on times past have been exclusively owing
the subject, which therefore we deem to the vicious forms of society in which
it our duty to review, and considering he has been placed. Let these be bu
also the greater number of his positions judiciously changed, and he is “capa-
to be extravagant in the greatest pos- ble of receiving unlimited improvemen
sible degree, we cannot compromise and knowledge, and, in consequence
the entireness of our dissent from them of experiencing such uninterrupted en.
on any such considerations. We shall joyment through this life, as will bes
first, therefore, briefly state his prin- prepare him for an after-existence.”.
ciples, abstracted from all such de- Þ. 42.
tails as are accidental merely to them, 4. In particular, the prejudice by
not integral; (this we shall deem suf- which men have been hitherto led t


1821.)
Owen's Report to the County of Lanark.
87
maintain a certain individuality of feel 6. The whole population should also
ing-preferring their own interests, be made to eat together as one family,
children, country, &c., to their neighé having their food prepared for them
bours', is entireiy an excrescence on in one establishment. “Various ob-
their original nature, and not only jections have been urged against this
should, but also very easily may be, practice, but they have come from those
overcome.
only, who, whatever may be their other
5. In like manner the division of la- pretensions, are mere children in the
bour, which has hitherto been deemed knowledge of the principles and economy
a source of power in arts and manufac- of social life.”-P. 35.
tares, is, in truth, detrimental to both. 7. They should all be dressed alike,
Every man should know a little of and the Roman or Highland garb is re-
every thing. “ It has been a popular commended in preference to any other.
opinion to recommend a minute divi- " The advantages of this part of the
sion of labour and interests. It will plan will prove to be so great in prac-
presently appear, however, that this tice, that fashions will exist for a very
minute division of labour, and division short period, and then only among
of interests, are only other terms for the most weak and silly part of the
poverty, ignorance, waste of every kind, creation.”—Not human beings, wepre-
universal opposition throughout socie- sume, but non-descripts, whom no
ty, crime, misery, and great bodily and combination of circumstances could
mental debility."-P. 44, to the end of materially improve.-P. 37.
the paragraph.
8. The children of these establish-
6. The proper arrangement then of so- ments are also to be common good, and
ciety is to divide the whole countryinto all educated together under general in-
districts, removing the old land-marks, spection. Two schools are to be pro-
abandoning the old habitations, and vided for them, one receiving infants
constructing new villages or townships from 2 to 6 years of age, the other those
in their stead, on a certain definite from 6 to 12; and in these schools they
plan, as traced by Mr Owen himself. are to be lodged, fed, and taught.
Each of these should contain accom- “Each child will receive a general edu-
modation for a population averaging cation early in life that will fit him for
8 or 1200, but varying according to the proper purposes of society, make
circumstances from 300 to 2000 ; and him the most useful to it, and most ca-
to each should be annexed farms, in pable of enjoying it. Before he is 12
like manner varying from 150 to 3000 years old, he may with ease be train-
statute acres in extent, to be cultiva. ed to a correct view of the outlines
ted by the whole community in strict of all the knowledge which men have
rotation. Spade cultivation is recom yet attained. By this means he will
mended in preference to using the early learn what he is, in relation to
plough, and the result is given, (page past ages to the period in which he
67,) of some very interesting experi- lives—to the circumstances in which
ments on this subject, instituted by a he is placed-to the individuals around
gentleman of the name of Falla, near him, and to future events. He will
Newcastle. * But the whole produce, then only have any pretensions to the
according to the plan, must be stored name of a rational being."-P. 45.
in the public granaries, and issued to 9. “ The peculiar mode of govern.
individuals only as required ; in like ing these establishments will depend
manner as the proceeds arising from on the parties who form them. Those
labour in all other departments must founded by land owners and capital-
be common good. It were to encou- ists, public companies, parishes or coun-
rage individuality of feeling to suffer ties, will be under the direction of
an individual to retain to himself the the individuals whom those powers
produce of his own labour.-P. 49, may appoint to superintend them, and
will, of course, be subject to the rules
et pass.
*Mr Falla's attention, it seems, has been turned to this subject for nearly eighteen
years, and he states his result to be, that the expence of cultivating an acre of land by
the spade is only 5s. more than that by the plough, while the excess of profit is above
£12. This seems worth inquiring about, certainly; and we should be very glad if any
practical or theoretical agriculturist would favour us with his opinion on the subject.


88
Owen's Report to the County of Lanark.
[ April,
and regulationis laid down by their wealth, their ignorance for knowledge,
founders. Those formed by thie mid- their anger for kindness, their divi-
dle and working classes upon a com- sion for unior ; effecting this change
plete reciprocity of interests, should too, without subjecting a single indi-
be governed by themselves upon prin- vidual even to temporary inconveni-
ciples that will prevent divisions, op- ence." (P. 59.) The incredible blind-
position of interests, jealousies, or any ness of man to the limits of his own
of the common and vulgar passions powers, the worth of his own inven-
which a contention for power is sure tions !—But we shall not trouble our
to generate. Their affairs should be readers with any formal commentaryon
conducted by a committee, composed it; in very truth, as we have already
of all the members of the association intimated, we could not say any thing
between certain ages; for instance, of which could bear half so hard on it
those between 35 and 45, or between as this brief and unvarnished summary
40 and 60, &c."-P. 48.
of it, couched almost every where in
10. By these committees according. its author's own words. "We shall
ly, not only are all matters of internal pass on rather to consider the causes
economy to be arranged, but those also at once of the sort of mystery in wlrich
of exchange of surplus of produce with it has ever, and still is, in some de-
other societies, and of external intera gree, involved to the eye of casual ob-
course generally. The principle, how- servers, and of the indifference with
ever, according to which these ex- which, spite of its pretensions, it con-
changes are to be effected, if we under- tinues for the most part to be received.
stand it at all, of which we are not And in the first place it has been
very certain, is a novel one. Values overlooked, because nothing can be
are to be estimated not according to more opposite to it than Mr Owen's
any conventional sign, nor any re- own practice ; insomuch, that it
lation to rarity of production, or a were even impossible from examining
mount of capital embarked in raising that to surmise it. It may astonish
it, but solely by the labour which the our readers, perhaps, after what they
article to be valued may have cost. have just read, but we can assure
“ The natural standard of value is in them that New Lanark is really a
principle human labour, or the com- very interesting spectacle,-a pattern
bined manual and mental powers of for manufacturing establishments-
men called into action.” « On the and we cannot express the pleasure
principle by which the average phy- with which we there contemplated the
sical power of horses is obtained, that success of its benevolent proprietor, in
of men may also be learnt; and as it disseminating habits of industry, and
forms the essence of all wealth, its va- contented chearfulness among the
lue in every article of produce may al- grown population under his charge,
so be ascertained, and its exchangeable and application and study among the
value with all other value fixed accord- fine children, whose education, alniost
ingly, the whole to be permanent for step by step, he superintends. It were
a given period. Human labour would well for the country at large, and most
tius acquire its natural or intrinsic honourable to human nature, if the
value, which would increase as science example he thus sets were imitated by
advanced : and this is, in fact, the only other great manufacturcrs, and the
really useful object of science. The bond of kindness and consideration,
demand for human labour would be now so much interrupted, between the
no longer subject to caprice,” &c. &c. higher and lower classes of so large a
P. 7.
proportion of our population, thus
And this then is Mr Owen's system ; again renewed. But then Mr Owen
this tissue, we must call it, of all that was the practical conductor of an es-
is distempeted in fancy, unfounded in tablishinent like New Lanark long
fact, rash in assumption, inconclusive before he was a theorist in political
in reasoning, unattainable in prac- economy, and the tact which he thus
tice, is, with the addition of a little acquired in early life, adheres to hin
singing and dancing, the far-famed still amidst all the mist with which
system which is to renew the fair face his later studies have enveloped him.
of humanity, lost for so many ages; Here accordingly we find none of those
and in the words of the projector him- extravagancies introduced, which so
self, to “ exchange mens' poverty for abundantly distigure his paper sys.
1


1921.]
Owen's Report to the County of Lanark.
89
tem: on the contrary, a great many two-thirds of his own and family's
most benevolent and beneficent, though wages; but it is a sale store, and its
not very novel, views are consistently profits constitute a large portion of the
and judiciously reduced to practice. school funds. Lastly, children are there
For instance, instead of maxims and certainly brought within the verge of
opinions opposed to those of our faith, school discipline so early as two years
we find at New Lanark, as elsewhere of age, and it may be that this has a
in this Christian country, Sabbath prospective view towards weaping the
evening schools, and liberal subscrip, affection of their parents from them;
tions, encouraged by the example of but then again they are neither fed
the proprietor, in aid of Bible Societies, nor lodged at school, they are mere
Instead of man being considered an ir, ly there a few hours a day, eight, we
responsible being, journals are kept in think, or ten; during a portion of
every apartmeut of the conduct, good which, however, they are either at
or had, of the people employed in it, play, or learning to dance, or in some
and we are well persuaded, although other way engaged, conducive to their
we do not know it, that, in cases of health and strength. All most excel
flagrant delinquency, reproof would be lent: we repeat it, it is scarcely pos-
administered upon the showing of the sible to accord too much praise to near,
ledger, even by the good theorist him, ly all we see done at New Lanark ;
self. Again, so far from the cotton among other things we may observe,
spinners of New Lanark, being invited that although these children's educaa
to legislate for themselves between any tion is certainly much better, and more
two given ages, we are sure Mr Owen extended than that of most others of
would consider even an offered advice their rank, it is yet chiefly out of the
from any of them a most unwarrant- Bible and ordinary Collections that
able intrusion, and would much rather they are taught, and not even a pre
legislate himself for all the world, than tence is made of giving them before
suffer any one to interfere with him in they are twelve years of age,
his own peculiar charge at home. Fur; rect view of the outline of all the know.
ther, there is precisely the same divi, ledge which men have yet attained."
sion of labour at these mills as at any But, amidst all this, where is MrOwen's
other,- not a rood of land is attached system, or how is it possible that any
to them for any purposes of either gar, one seeing this should have surmised
dening or husbandry, no eating in it?
common, though we believe that is In the second place, however, this
intended, -no community of goods system sets out on such extraordinary
but on the contrary, savings banks for assumptions, and reasons on them after-
the accumulation of individual gains, wards so loosely and inconclusively, that
and Mr Owen boasting that these were it has remained in obscurity; and we
Established before they were introduz cannot be surprised at it, because many
ced generally by act of parliament, and have thought they could not possibly
that several of his workmen have above understand it, when perhaps they
L.100 vestel in them, encouraged to did, at the same time that they took
such accumulation by his liberality in little or no interest in clearing up their
allowing them five per cent. on their doubts. We confess that this has been
highest as well as their lowest deposits, in a good degree the case with our-
in opposition to the principle in the selves; we have been in possession of
national banks, which he characterizes our present views on the subject almost
as sordid, by which thật rate of inte: a year, but although tolerably convin-
rest is limited to sums under L. 10. ced of their accuracy, for we had been
Again, at New Lanark there is no doubt at considerable pains in drawing Mr
1 public store, and every workman has Owen out and sounding his real depth,
4 weekly credit opened at it under Mr yet we always felt afraid to commit
Owen's own hand, to the amount of ourselves to print concerning his sys-
a cor.
• This we are indeed rather sorry for. We are persuaded, that were it possible in all
manufactories to give each workman, the head of a family, a separate house, and a little
spot of ground annexed to it sufficient to employ his leisure, renovate his health, and
form in him habits of neatness and order in his household economy, it would be a great
advantage. But, we fear, this is impossible in almost all cases.


90
Owen's Report to the County of Lanark.
[April,
tem till his own litera scripta appeared And lastly, for it cannot be necessary
to bear us out in our representations to go to length on this head, that
of it. We waited, it is true, with great position, that it is possible to deprive
patience, for we thought very little a human individual of all feeling of
about the matter at all; but this is individuality, to make him love any,
just another feature of resemblance be- or rather every other's interest, off-
tween us and the many observers to spring, * advancement, as well as his
whom we have adverted. Perhaps it own; and that all this may be effect-
may be advisable, however, to notice a ed by a mere community of goods, a
point or two in the system, such as may common table, an intimately connect-
justify this hesitation and indifference. ed public interest What could we
For instance then, let us take the very say to this, contradicted as it is by the
first position laid down in it, viz. private history of every monastic in-
That man is in no degree an account- stitution, in which, from the want of
able agent, but is the slave of the cir- offspring, there must have been infi-
stances in which he is placed, combined nitely less scope for selfish feeling than
with his own natural dispositions. We must exist in general society however
marked these last words when we framed, and where, notwithstanding,
quoted them formerly, and we now all its most noxious productions bloom-
mark them again, because they alone ed fresh and fair even as in the wilder-
redeem the sentence from extravagance ness of the great world—what could we
altogether; and if to natural had been say, we repeat, to this, but just “ there
added acquired dispositions, and the must be some mistake here, Mr Owen
first clause of the proposition been en never could mean this; but it is of no
tirely withdrawn, and the second mo- great consequence, let us pass on.
dified a little in universality of exprés- . But in the third place, Mr Owen's
sion, important changes at the same system has been neglected, because the
time we must confess, we should not world must always have felt that what-
have had much hesitation in subscri- ever truth there might be in his as-
bing to it. As it stands, it is opposed sumptions, or probability in his con-
both to reason and to revelation ; but clusions, he was in no sufficient degree
that is not all,- let us notice MrOwen's qualified, either from experience or
inconsistency in it. He here admits personal character, to reason on the
that circumstances, over which he may one or conduct to the other, in the
have controul, are combined in their dogmatical manner which he has uni-
operation with dispositions, over which formly assumed ; at least we are sure,
he has none; and yet in every follow- that whether the indifference with
ing sentence of his theory he assumes, which his speculations have been recei-
that change of circumstances alone will ved, has arisen in any degree from this
work all the marvellous changes which source or not, it was certainly well
he contemplates. Again, let us take merited upon this score. It is painful
his second position, that, because man to us to express ourselves in this man-
is thus trammelled by circumstances, ner-painful, because in his place we
for already even he has forgotten dis- really have a high respect for Mr Owen,
positions, therefore, every system of but we never either knew or heard of
government which involves the idea of pretensions so magnificent as his, so
individual rewards or punishments, very inadequately borne out. MrOwen
praise or blame, is necessarily unjust piques himself on his experience-it is
and unnatural; as if, granting even in truth very limited, he has only had
his own premises, these very accidents it in his power to make one experi-
had not as good a claim to a place as ment on human nature, and even that,
links in our fetters, circumstances by as we have seen, is not the experiment
which we are to be controlled, as any on which he reasons. And as to his
of Mr Owen's own arrangements. philosophical talents, granting all his
* We ought here to notice, however, that this particular height of improvement, in-
difference to our own children, will not be found adverted to in the report from which
we have taken almost every other part of our representation of this system. The fact is,
it would not print, it is really too monstrous. But it is a legitimate and necessary con-
sequence of the remainder, and we assert, nostro periculo, that in conversation Mr Owen
states it as such.


1921.7
Owen's Report to the County of Lanark.
91
premises unassailable, what can we say has been at New Lanark must know
of those of one who leaps at his con- that Mr Owen's life is passed at his
clusions in the manner he does, with mills, and that in superintending their
out looking to right or to left, or ma. details, displaying these to visitors, and
king a single allowance for derange- caressing the children at his school,
ment of any sort, expecting for exam. scarcely all the hours of the day are
ple, to have floating wealth in his come sufficient for him. And we repeat
monwealths, yet no desire in any to ap- the sentiment,-happy and enviable,
propriate it,--diversities of character in and innocent and useful, and even
his subjects, yet precisely the same ef. virtuous, are the hours thus spent;
fects produced on all by the same ex. his benevolent feelings gratified, --his
ternal circumstances, -legislative and success, and he is very successful, en-
executive assemblies, yet no differences joyed, --his hobby put on all its paces
of opinion, no rivalry, no collision be- without let or molestation. But mean-
tween their members? We do not while, where is his theory, or where
wish to wound Mr Owen's feelings, but the arguments by which, not in con-
we cannot but say, that so far from junction with that success, but in op-
feeling disposed to pin our faith to his position to it, he is to recommend it to
dicta when he advances propositions others ?-Why, just where they ought
like these, they go far to indispose us, to be ---in oblivion ; whence, it is true,
and they must have indisposed the we have now for a moment sought to
world at large, against every thing he draw them, but whither we cannot but
might bring forward along with them; think that the sooner they are again
and that himself when seriously ada and for ever consigned, the better and
vancing them, we can compare to no- the wiser.
thing more exactly than an inexperi We conclude, then-The world has
enced mariner adrift on a first voyage been quite right in neglecting Mr
of discovery, and setting down as land Owen's system ; and every attempt like
in his chart every fog-bank which rises that which we have learnt, with equal
within his horizon. Örstill more nearly surprise and concern, is at present in
perhaps, a raw and rash mechanic, cal. the contemplation of his country neigh-
calating the power of a first supposed bours, to drag it from the shadle, and
invention, and not only laying out of eveu petition Parliament in its behalf,
view every allowance for friction or is not merely wrong—it is ridiculous.
other impediment, but actually decom- Have these gentlemen forgotten Sir
posing in imagination the materials W. De Crespigny's failure in the same
with which he proposes to work, and cause ? the precedent had been worth
saying to their elements, “ such and their adverting to, even for their own
such properties shall you possess in all sakes. But the truth we in charity
time to come and no other, for such believe to be, that they have no disa
and such only will suit my purposes tinct idea of what they wish to recom-
and enable mé to attain my ends! And mend: they have looked at New La-
although I reason not upon experiment, nark, (a seduction to which the one
but rather in its defiance, yet let me dissentient speaker among them, Lord
bat bring forward my own stool to Belhaven, seems singularly enough
stand on, and I am ready to demon- never to have exposed himself,) and
strate, like the Alchymists of old, that unaccustomed, probably, to analyze
experiment and experience are alike minutely what they read, they have
wrong, and ought to have been diffe. taken for granted that what they
rent.
saw there was also in the book, some-
Lastly, Mr Owen's theory has been where stowed away amid the decla-
overlooked and neglected by the world, mation with which it is chiefly filled.
pretty much because it has been not And their hearts, naturally enough
less forgotten by himself. We have warmed by the sight, have carried
already shewn that his practice is quite their heads along with them. But
different: but that is not all, his heart even yet it is not too late to retrace
is in that practice only, and his system their steps, even yet their monstrous
is among the least of all his thoughts, petition may be strangled in its birth;
excepting only as associated in his ima- and still they may take New Lanark
gination with certain supposed and re- for their pattern and their guide. We
mote consequences. Every one who would have all men go there indeed,
VOL. IX.
M
.


92
Owen's Report to the County of Lanark. [Aprd,
who are possessed of even tolerable clusions at which they subsequently
reasoning powers; and who, as proprie- arrive,- that it is not by embark-
tors of great estates, extensive mer. ing in gigantic schemes, not by con-
chants, manufacturers, masters of fami- templating violent changes, not by
lies, schools, orin any other way, possess meddling with the forms of society,
either direct authority, or indirect in- (thosecrystalline forms, theuniformity
fluence over considerable bodies of their of which, in all ages and countries,
fellow men in the lower ranks of life. demonstrates that they are regulated
We would have them go, however, not by affinities inherent in our nature and
to listen, but to look ; not to have their of course beyond our controul,) not by
faith perverted, or their imaginations casting doubt on the first principles of
beguiled by Mr Owen's fancies ---but the Christian religion,-the religion of:
their understandings enlightened, and the age, had it even no other recom-
their affections kindled by the realities mendation, --not by substituting for
which he has created around him. Amid its views of human nature through time
these they will find much that is valua- and through eternity, the visions of a
ble to learn, even while they reject the distempered imagination; not, in a word,
trash with which it is surrounded; for by trusting the reins to Mr Owen even
instance they will see it demonstrated, for one moment, however they may
that however fallen in nature or sunk suffer, and even thank him, to pion
in circumstances, there is still much neer the road before them; not, we say,
moral good in man, that thatgood will by any, or all of these modes, that
be much morecertainlyand extensively they can serve their country or their
elicited by kindness than severity, the kind. — But, by uniting in a series of
expression of interest than neglect, edu- minute endeavours to purify and im-
cation than ignorance, in every case ;- prove the substance of which that
finally, for their own encouragement, country, that kind, morally speaking,
that independently of all the commands are composed, educating the poor,
of religion, or the hopes of futurity, eliciting their kindly feelings, cultiva-
there is much worldly wisdom, even, in ting their religious impressions, tight-
a spiritof active beneficence; in practice ening thus the silken cords which bind
it is generally successful, however theo- without fettering mankind, dischar.
retically mistaken ; in feeling it is al- ging every man his own duties, social
ways happy, in example always re and domestic, in his own place, che-
spectable and praiseworthy. And when rishing and patronizing his own de-
they have thus got their lesson, let pendants, loving his own children,
them carry it home, not to prate pursuing his own best interests both
about it at public meetings, nor yet here and hereafter; which, when
still less to neglect and forget it, rightly understood, whatever MrOwen,
as so many others have done while or the freeholders of Lanark may think
they thought it inseparably connected of it, a wise and kind Providence has
with absurdities at which their reason already sufficiently identified with
revolted, but to interweave it with those of the world at large, in con-
principles derived from a far higher junction with the best and strongest
source than even the best human spe- feelings of our common nature, with-
culations, and reduce it patiently and out its being necessary for them to
systematically to practice, each within endeavour to cement the union, al-
bis own locality, his own sphere. Lay, though, in truth, certain in such case
ing down, at all events, the following to do what may lay in them to destroy
as fundamental axioms of political ex- it, by their breach.
pediency, whatever the particular con- .
E.


1821.)
Lord Byron's Doge of Venice.
93
LORD BYRON'S DOGE OF VENICE.
The Edinburgh Reviewers, in their The story of which Lord Byron has
usual tone of self-complacency, said, possessed himself is, we think, by fa-
when the first cantos of Child Harold the finer of the two, and we say pos-
were published, that the promise of sessed, because we believe he has ad-
future excellence held out by these hered almost to the letter of the trans-
cantos Was “really quite comfortable !" actions as they really took place. In
We trust we never have been, and are the beginning of the 14th century,
quite sure we never shall be, guilty of when the winged lion of St Mark soar-
talking in terms of such contemptible ed over the Adriatic in all his “ pride
ignorance and irreverence concerning of place," an old fierce warrior, whose
any one who has vindicated to himself, valour had twice saved all but the ex-
(as Lerd Byron had most effectually istence of his country, was, in his own
done by any given score of stanzas in absence, and without solicitation, in-
his Child Karold) the character of a vested with the ducal dignity. The se
truly nervous, manly, and classical nate, ever jealous and ever ambitious,
writer of the English tongue. But we curtail his prerogative at the outset,--
must borrow so far the spirit of Mr but he does his duty bravely and wisely.
Jeffrey's dictum, and say, that nothing Their jealousy has cut him off, indeed,
has for a long while afforded us so from the private pleasures in which he
much pleasure as the rich promise of had hitherto found the best solace of his
dramaticercellencc unfolded in this
new public toils—the intimate companion-
production of our Noble Exile. Lord ship of friends no longer his equals-
"Byron in his preface says well, that the no longer, in their patrician jealousy
City of the Plague, the Fall of Jerusa- of their prince, willing to be treated by
lem, and Miss Baillie's De Montfort, him as his equals. But for these de
are sufficient proof of the present ex- privations, and for every evil beside,
istence of dramatic power somewhere: he finds abundant compensation in the
he might with great propriety have affections ofayoung, a beautiful, a high-
added to this list the name of “the spirited, and yet a most gentle wife.
Cenci,” a very powerfully conceived She had been bequeathed to him as a
and powerfully executed tragedy which legacy by her father, the dearest friend
was published last year by Mr P. B. of his youth. She loves him with a love
Shelly. But perhaps his Lordship was which is not the less dear to him, be-
withheld from mentioning that work, cause it partakes somewhat of the re-
as we ourselves were from reviewing it verence of filial love,—while he, again,
at the time when it appeared, by the both loves her as his bride, and che
very disgusting nature of its subject- rishes her like a daughter. There is
those vile extravagances, namely, of soinething entirely new and altogether
parricide and incest, by perpetual re admirable in the manner of bringing
pititions of which, or of something of out these charming varieties of the con-
the same kind, we begin to fear it is jugal passion. Alas! that he who has
Mr Shelly's mad resolution to destroy done this should have ever prostituted
the effect of all his genius, and blast his pen to paint, record, or foster the
all the barvest of his fame. But Lord pollution of woman!
Byron's own tragedy is infinitely su The lovely and innocent young wife
perior to the “Cenci,” even in the of the old warrior does not, however,
merits of vigorous conception, and vi- escape the wound of evil tongues. A
gorous diction; while it has the happi- young patrician, by name Michel
ness to be distinguished both from that Steno, dares to inscribe the ducal
and from too many of the productions of throne itself with a vile libel upon
his Lordship’s own genius, by uniform her purity. He is detected—and the
purity of thought and purpose. With- wrath of the haughty Prince of Venice
out question, no such tragedy as this knows no bounds. He is tried by the
of Marino Faliero has appeared in Council “ of the Forty,” and found
English since the day when Otway also guilty—and he is condemned—to a
was inspired to his master-piece by the month's imprisonment.
interests of a Venetian story and a The Doge, who conceives himself to
i Venetian conspiracy.
be insulted alike as a man, a soldier, a
Marino Faliero, Doge of Venice, an Historical Tragedy, in Five Acts, with Notes.
The Prophecy of Dante, a Poem. By Lord Byron. 8vo. Murray, London, 1821.


94
Lord Byron's Doge of Venice.
[April,
noble, anil a sovereign, by this inade A shadow on thy fancy of a thing
quate punishment inflicted on the ri- Which would not have thee mourn it, but
bald Steno, is tempted, at the critical remember.
moment when his passions are in their Such is the simple outline of the story
higliest state of effervescence, first by of Marino Faliero. As the Tragedy
the artful condolences, and then by the must be in the hands almost of all our
no less artful solicitations, of one Israel readers, we shall be contented with
Betruccio, a Venetian citizen, who is quoting a very few specimens of its
at the head of a plot recently formed dialogue, and we shall have no difficul.
by the commons of the city against the ty in choosing specimens that cannot
unbounded and intolerable insolence of be read too often.
the nobles. Faliero enters into the de-
Perhaps the finest scene in the whole
signs of these men, and, though not play is that in which the Doge first
without many “compunctious visit- meets his wife after he has been made
ings,” he persists in acting as their acquainted with
the sentence of Steno,
leader. Every thing under
his direc- and has listened to the communication
tion is prepared for an instant blow. of the conspirator Bertuccio. The
At dawn of day the great bell of St character of the calm, pure spirited
Martin's Church is to be rung; that Angiolina is developed in it most ad-
bell can be sounded only by com. mirably;—the great difference between
mand of the Doge, and at the sound of her temper and that of her fiery hus.
it every Venetian noble must hasten to band is vividly pourtrayed,--but not
the Council Hall. The conspired ple- less vividly touched is that strong bond
beian bands are on this occasion to obey of their union which exists in the com-
the same signal : they are to rush from mon nobleness of their deeper natures.
every district or the city, and occupy There is no spark of jealousy in the
the great place of St Mark,---and old man's thoughts,-he does not ex-
then, says the Doge, --
pect the fervours of youthful passion in
All the Patricians flocking to the Council, his wife, nor does he find them: but
(Which they dare not refuse, at the dread he finds what is far better,-the fear-
signal
less confidence of one, who being to
Pealing from out their patron Saint's proud the heart's core innocent, can scarcely
tower)
be a believer in the existence of such
Will then be gathered in unto the harvest,
And we will reap them with the sword for
a thing as guilt. He finds every charm
sickle.
which
gratitude, respect, anxious and
The great bell does sound, and all deep-seated affection can give to the
Venice is alarmed; but in the interim confidential language of a lovely, and
between the framing and the execution
a modest, and a pious woman. She
of the design, the whole has been be has been extremely troubled by her ob-
servance of the troubled countenance
trayed by the virtue
or the vice of one and gesture of the Doge, ever since the
of the conspirators, who could not per- discovery of Steno's guilt; and she
share in the destined fate of all the does all she can to sooth him from his
Venetian nobility. The hand is ar- proud irritation. Strong in her con-
rested after it has struck but a few sciousness of purity, she has brought
blows upon the bell of St Mark's. The
herself to regard without anger, the
Doge is seized in his palace—he is insult offered to herself, and the yet
tried---he is beheaded immediately ;
uncorrected instinct of a noble heart
and in place of his picture in the great she is herself persuaded, that Steno,
makes her try to persuade her lord, as
Council
Hall, where all his predeces- whatever be the sentence of his judges,
sors and all his successors are repre must be punished-moreeven than they
sented, there is a blank space
covered
with a sable veil, over which still re-
would wish him to be by the secret
mains the original inscription : « Heic suggestions of his own guilty consci-
est locus Marini Faletro decapitati pro ence,--the deep blushes of his priva-
criminibus.” The Duchess seeks re-
cy. At this the Doge, experienced in
fuge in a cloister, there, doubtless, to
the ways both of good and evil men,
do more than her modest old lord re-
smiles compassionately upon Angio-
quests of her in these fine words
lina. She then goes on thus :-
When I am nothing, let that which I was Angiolina. Heaven bids us to forgive our
Be still sometimes a name on thy sweet lips, enemies.


1821.]
Lord Byron's Doge of Venice.
05
answer
never
Doge. Docs heaven forgive her own ? Is To make my dowry equal to the rank
Satan sav'd
Of aught in Venice, and forego all claim
From wrath eternal !
My father's last injunction gave you.
Ang. Do not speak thus wildly Doge. Thus,
Heaven will alike forgive you and your foes. 'Twas not a foolish dotard's vile caprice,
Doge. Amen! may heaven forgive them. Nor the false edge of aged appetite,
Ang. And will you ?
Which made me covetous of girlish beauty
Doge. Yes, when they are in heaven ! And a young bride: for in my fireiest youth
Ang. And not till then ?
I sway'd such passions ; nor was this my
Dage. What matters my forgiveness? an age
old man's,
Infected with that leprosy of lust
Worn out, scorn'd, spurn'd, abused ; what which taints the hoariest years of vicious
matters then
men,
My pardon more than my resentment? both Making them ransack to the very last
Being weak and worthless ? I have lived The dregs of pleasure for their vanish'd
too long-
joys ;
But let us change the argument. My child! Or buy in selfish marriage some young vic-
My injured wite, the child of Loridano, tim,
The brave, the chivalrous how littledeem'd Too helpless to refuse a state that's honest,
Thy father, wedding thee unto his friend, Too feeling not to know herself a wretch.
That he was linking thee to shame! Alas! Our wedlock was not of this sort, you had
Shame without sin, for thou art faultless. Freedom from me to choose, and urged in
Had'st thou
But had a different husband, any husband Your father's choice.
Lo Venice save the Doge, this blight, this Ang. I did so; I would do so
brand,
In face of earth and heaven; for I have
This blasphemy had never fall’n upon
thee.
So young, so beautiful, so good, so pure, Repented for my sake ; sometimes for
To suffer this, and yet be unavenged !
yours,
Ang. I am too well avenged, for you In pondering o'er your late disquietudes.
still love me,
Doge. I knew my heart would never
And trust, and honour me; and all men treat you harshly-
know
I knew my days could not disturb you long ;
That you are just, and I am true: What And then the daughter of my earliest friend,
more
His worthier daughter, free to choose again,
Could I require, or you command ? Wealthier and wiser in the ripest bloom
Doge. 'Tis well,
Of womanhood, more skilful to select
And may be better ; but whate'er betide, By passing these probationary years ;
Be thou at least kind to my memory. Inheriting a prince's name and riches,
Ang. Why speak you thus ?
Secured by the short penance of enduring
Doge. It is no matter why,
An old man for some summers, against all
But I would still, whatever others think, That law's chicane or envious kinsman
Have your respect both nowand in my grave. might
Ang. Why should you doubt it-has it Have urged against her rightmy best
ever fail'd ?
friend's child
Doge. Come hither, child, I would a Would choose more fitly in respect of
word with you.
years,
Your father was my friend, unequal fortune And not less truly in a faithful heart.
Made him my debtor for some courtesies Ang. My lord, I look'd but to my fa-
Which bind the good more firmly ; when,
ther's wishes,
opprest
Hallow'd by his last words, and to my heart
With his last malady, he will'd our union, For doing all its duties, and replying
It was not to repay me, long repaid With faith to him with whom I was affi.
Before by his great loyalty in friendship; anced.
His object was to place your orphan beauty Ambitious hopes ne'er cross'd my dreams,
In honourable safety from the perils,
and should
Which, in this scorpion nest of vice, assail The hour you speak of come, it will be seen
A lonely and undow'red maid. I did not
Think with him, but would not oppose the Doge. I do believe you, and I know you
thought
true ;
Which sooth'd his death-bed.
For love, romantic love, which, in my youth
Ang. I have not forgot
I knew to be illusion, and ne'er saw
The nobleness with which you bade me Lasting, but often fatal, it had been
speak,
No lure for me in my most passionate days,
If my young heart held any preference And could not be so now, did such exist.
Which would have made me happier ; nor But such respect, and mildly paid regard
your offer
As a true feeling for your welfare, and
So.


96
Lord Byron's Doge of Venice.
[April,
A free compliance with all honest wishes, It is not Steno who could move me thus :
A kindness to your virtues, watchfulness Had it been so, he should—but let that
Not shown, but shadowing o'er such little pass.
failings
Ang. What is't you feel so deeply, then,
As youth is apt in, so as not to check
ev'n now ?
Rashly, but win you from them ere you Doge. The violated majesty of Venice,
knew
At once insulted in her lord and laws.
You had been won, but thought the change Another nobly conceived scene is
your choice;
that at the opening of the third act,
A pride not in your beauty, but your con where the old Doge is introduced as
duct,
waiting by himself in the twilight for
A trust in you, a patriarchal love,
Bertuccio, who is at that hour to con-
And not a doting homage; friendship, faith, duct him into the presence of the as-
Such estimation in your eyes as these
sembled conspirators. The rendez-
Might claim, I hoped for.
Ang. And have you ever had.
vous is on the space between the ca-
Doge. I think so. For the difference in nal and the church di San Giovanni
our years,
San Paolo. In that church repose the
You knew it, choosing me, and chose. I ashes of all the Falieri,--and before its
trusted
gate, right over against where the ex-
Not to my qualities, nor would have faith pecting prince has taken his stand, ap-
In such, nor outward ornaments of nature, pears an equestrian statue erected
Were I still in my five-and-twentieth spring; long ago by the senate, to one of his
I trusted to the blood of Loridano,
ancestry, who centuries before, filled,
Pure in your veins ; I trusted to the soul
under better auspices, the ducal chair
God gave you—to the truths your father
of Venice. A gondola lies at some dis-
taught you-
To your belief in heaven—to your mild tance on the canal. The Doge alone,
virtues—
and disguised, stands by the water side,
To your own faith and honour, for my own.
and this is his soliloquy.
Áng. You have done well.--I thank you Doge, solus. I am before the hour, the
for that trust,
hour whose voice,
Which I have never for one moment ceased Pealing into the arch of night, might strike
To honour you the more for.
These palaces with ominous tottering,
Doge.
Where is honour, And rock their marbles to the corner-stone,
Innate and precept-strengthen'd, 'tis the Waking the sleepers from some hideous
rock
dream
Of faith connubial; where it is not—where Of indistinct, but awful augury
Light thoughts are lurking, or the vanities Of that which will befal them. Yes, proud
Of worldly pleasure rankle in the heart,
city!
Or sensual throbs convulse it, well I know Thou must be cleansed of the black blood
"Twere hopeless for humanity to dream which makes thee
Of honesty in such infected blood, A lazar-house of tyranny: the task
Although 'twere wed to him it covets most: Is forced upon me, I have sought it not ;
An incarnation of the poet's god
And therefore was I punish'd, seeing this
In all his marble-chisellid beauty, or Patrician pestilence spread on and on,
The demi-deity, Alcides, in
Until, at length, it smote me in my slum-
His majesty of superhuman manhood,
bers,
Would not suffice to bind where virtue is And I am tainted, and must wash away
The plague-spots in the healing wave. Fall
It is consistency which forms and proves it; fane !
Vice cannot fix, and virtue cannot change. Where sleep my fathers, whose dim statues
The once fall’n woman must for ever fall; shadow
Her vice must have variety, while virtue The floor which doth divide us from the
Stands like the sun, and all which rolls dead,
around
Where all the pregnant hearts of our bold
Drinks life, and light, and glory, from her blood,
aspect.
Moulder'd into a mite of ashes, hold
Ang. And seeing, feeling thus this truth In one shrunk heap what once made many
in others,
heroes,
(I pray you pardon me,) but wherefore When what is now a handful, shook the
earth
To the most fierce of fatal passions, and Fane of the tutelar saints who guard our
Disquiet your great thoughts with restless house!
hate
Vault, where two doges rest my sires !
Of such a thing as Steno ?
who died,
Doge.
You mistake me. The one of toil, the other in the field,
not.
yield you


1821.]
Lord Byron's Doge of Venice.'
97
Dess
With a long race of other lineal chiefs Doge. We-We!--no matter-you have
And sages, whose great labours, wounds, earn'd the right,
and state,
To talk of us.—But to the point.--If this
I have inherited, let the graves gape, Attempt succeeds, and Venice, render'd free
Till all thine aisles be peopled with the And flourishing, when we are in our graves,
dead,
Conducts her generations to our tombs,
And pour them from thy portals to gaze on And makes her children with their little
me!
hands
I call them up, and them and thee to witn Strew flowers o'er her deliverers' ashes
then
What it hath been which put me to this The consequence will sanctify the deed,
task;
And we shall be like the two Bruti in
Their pure high-blood, their blazon roll of The annals of hereafter ; but if not,
glories,
If we should fail, employing bloody means
Their mighty name dishonour'd all in me, And secret plot, although to a good end,
Not by me, but by the ungrateful nobles Still we are traitors, honest Israel ;-thou
We fought to make our equals, not our No less than he who was thy sovereign
lords :
Six hours ago, and now thy brother rebel.
And chiefly those, Ordelafo the brave, Is. Ber. 'Tis not the moment to consider,
Who perish'd in the field, where I since thus,
conquer'd,
Else I could answer. Let us to the meeto
Battling at Zara, did the hecatombs
ing,
Of thine and Venice' foes, there offer'd up Or we may be observed in lingering here.
By thy descendant, merit such acquit Doge. We are observed, and have been.
ance ?
Is. Ber. We observed !
Spirits! smile down upon me; for my Let me discover--and this steel
cause
Doge. Put up;
Is yours, in all life now can be of yours, Here are no human witnesses : look there
Your fame, your name, all mingled up in What see you ?
mine,
Is. Ber. Only a tall warrior's statue
And in the future fortunes of our race !
Bestriding a proud steed, in the dim light
Let me but prosper, and I make this city of the dull moon.
Free, and immortal, and our house's name Doge. That warrior was the sire
Worthier of what you were, now and here. Of my sire's fathers, and that statue was
after !
Decreed to him by the twice rescued city :
Think
Enter ISRAEL BERTUCCio.
you that he looks down on us, or no?
1s. Ber. My lord, these are mere phan-
Is. Ber. Who goes there?
tasies; there are
Doge. A friend to Venice.
No eyes in marble.
It. Ber. 'Tis he.-
Doge. But there are in death.
Welcome, my lord,
you are before the I tell thee, man, there is a spirit in
time.
Such things, that acts and sees, unseen,
Doge. I am ready to proceed to your though felt;
assembly.
And if there be a spell to stir the dead,
1. Ber. Have with you. I am proud Tis in such deeds as we are now upon.
and pleased to see
Deem'st thou the souls of such a race as
Such confident alacrity. Your doubts
mine
Since our last meeting, then, are all dis- Can rest, when he, their last descendant
peli'd ?
chief,
Doge. Not so—but I have set my little Stands plotting on the brink of their pure
left
graves
Of life upon this cast : the die was thrown With stung plebeians ?
When I first listen'd to your treason—Start Is. Ber. It had been as well
not !
To have ponder'd this before,-ere you em-
That is the word ; I cannot shape my bark'd
tongue
In our great enterprize. Do you repent ?
To syllable black deeds into smooth names,
Though I be wrought on to commit them. natural strugglein the breast of the high-
There is a great deal more of the same
When
I heard you tempt your sovereign, and
born and haughty Doge, between there-
forbore
sentment with which he burns on the one
To have you dragg'd to prison, I became
hand, and the reluctance with which he
Your guiltiest accomplice ! now you may, considers the meanness of the associates
If it so please you, do as much by me.
with whom he has leagued himself, on
18. Ber. Strange words, my lord, and the other. The conspiring Doge is not,
most unmerited ;
wethink, meant to beambitious for him-
I am no spy, and neither are we traitors. self, but heissternly,proudly,aVenetian
9


98
[April,
Lord Byron's Doge of Venice.
nor
have way,
Noble, and it is impossible for him to As we went forth to take our prey around
tear from his bosom the scorn for every The isles wrung from the false Mahome-
thing plebeian which has been implant tan;
ed there by birth, education, and a long Each stab of them will seem my suicide.
And can I see them dabbled o'er with blood ?
life of princely command. There are
other thoughts too, and of a gentler
Is. Ber. Doge ! Doge ! this vacillation is
kind, which cross from time to time A child; if you are not in second childhood,
unworthy
his perturbed spirit. He remembers,
Call back your nerves to your own purpose,
- he cannot entirely forget—the days
and nights of old companionship, by Thus shame yourself and me. By heavens !
which he had long been bound to those I'd rather
whose sentence he has consented to Forego even now, or fail in your intent,
seal. He has himself been declaiming Than see the man I venerate subside
against the folly of mercy,--and argu- From high resolves into such shallow weak-
ness!
ing valiantly the necessity of total ex-
stirpation, and that too, in the teeth You have seen blood in battle, shed it, both
Your own and that of others ; can you
even of some of the plebeian conspira-
tors themselves ; yet the poet, with From a few drops from veins of hoary vam-
shrink then
profound insight into the human heart,
pires,
makes him shudder when his own im. Who but give back what they have drain'd
petuosity has brought himself and all
from millions ?
who hear him to the brink. He can-
Doge. Bear with me! Step by step, and
not look upon the bloody resolution,
blow on blow,
no not even after he himself has been I will divide with you ; think not I waver ;
the chief instrument of its formation. Ah! no; it is the certainty of all
Israel Bertuccio says to him, percei- Which I must do doth make me tremble
thus.
ving the alteration in his look,
But let these last and lingering thoughts
Why stand you wrapt ?
A moment back, and you were all impa. To which you only and the night are.con.
tience.
"scious,
He makes his reply, starting as if And both regardless. When the hour ar-
from some dream :
rives,
'Tis mine to sound the knell, and strike the
Doge. And is it then decided ? must blow,
they die ?
Which shall unpeople many palaces,
Is. Ber. Who?
And hew the highest genealogic trees
Doge. My own friends by blood and Down to the earth, strew'd with their
courtesy,
bleeding fruit,
And many deeds and days—the Senators? And crush their blossoms into barrenness;
Is. Ber. You pass'd their sentence, and This will I-must I have I sworn to do,
it is a just one.
Nor aught can turn me from my destiny;
Doge. Ay, so it seems, and so it is to But still I quiver to behold what I
You ;
Must be, and think what I have been !
You are a patriot, a plebeian Gracchus.se Bear with me.
The rebel's oraclethe people's tribune Is. Ber. Re-man your breast ; I feel no
I blame you not, you act in your vocation ;
such remorse,
They smote you, and oppress'd you, and I understand it not ; why should you
'despised you ;
change ?
So they have me ; but you ne'er spake with You acted, and you act on your free will.
them ;
Doge. Ay, there it is you feel not, nor
You never broke their bread, nor shared do I,
their salt ;
Else I should stab thee on the spot, to save
You never had their wine-cup at your lips; A thousand lives, and, killing, do no mur.
You grew not up with them, nor laughd,
nor wept,
You feel not-you go to this butcher-work
Nor held a revel in their company ;
As if these high-born men were steers for
Ne'er smild to see them smile, nor claim'd shambles !
their smile
When all is over, you'll be free and merry,
In social interchange for your's, nor trusted, And calmly wash those hands incarnadine;
Nor wore them in your heart of hearts, as I But I, outgoing thee and all thy fellows
have;
In this surprising massacre, shall be,
These hairs of mine are grey, aud so are Shall see, and feel-oh God !-oh God!
their's,
The elders of the council ; I remember And thou dost well to answer that it was
When all our locks were like the raven's “ My own free will and act;" and yet you
wings,
err,
der ;
'tis true,


1821.]
Lord Byron's Doge of Venice."
99".
For I will do this! Doubt not-fear not, I Shall be succeeded by a bright milleniúm.
Will be your most unmerciful accomplice! Doge Dandalo survived to ninety summers
And yet I act no more on my free will, To vanquish empires, and refuse their
Nor my own feelings--both compel me crown ;
back ;
I will resign a crown, and make the state
But there is hell within me, and around, Renew its freedoni--but oh! by what
And like the demon who believes and trem. means ?
bles
The noble end must justify them. What
Must I abhor and dò. Away ! away! Are a few drops of human blood ? 'tis false,
Get thee unto thy fellows, I will híe me The blood of tyrants is not human : they,
To gather the retainers of my house. Like to incarnate Molochs, feed on our's,
Doubt not, Saint Mark's great bell shall Until 'tis time to give them to the tombs
wake all Venice,
Which they have made so populous. Oh
Except her slaughter'd senate : ere the sun world !
Be broad upon the Adriatic, there Oh men! what are ye, and our best de
Shall be a voice of weeping, which shall signs,
drown
That we must work by crime to punish
The roar of waters in the cry of blood !
crime ?
I am resolvid_come on.
And slay, as if Death had but this one
At last the moment arrives when When a few years would make the sword
gate,
the bell is to be sounded, and the whole
superfluous ?
of the conspiring bands are watching And I, upon the verge of the unknown
in impatience for the signal. The ne realm,
phew of the Doge and the heir of his Yet send so many heralds on before me ?
house, (for he is childless) leaves Fa- I must not ponder this. ( A pause.)
liero in his palace, and goes to strike
Hark! was there not
with his own hand the fatal summons. A murmur as of distant voices, and
The Doge is left alone-And English The trainp of feet in martial unison ?
poetry, we think, contains few passages
What phantoms even of sound our wishes
raise !
superior to that which follows:
It cannot be the signal hath not rung-
Doge ( solns). He is gone,
Why pauses it ? My nephew's messenger
And on each footstep moves a life. 'Tis Should be upon his way to me, and he
done.
Himself, perhaps, even now draws grating
Now the destroying angel hovers o'er
back
Venice, and pauses ere he pours the vial, Upon its pond'rous hinge the steep tower
Even as the eagle overlooks his prey,
portal,
Ånd, for a moment, pois'd in middle air, Where swings the sullen, huge oracular
Suspends the motion of his mighty wings, bell,
Then swoops with his unerring beak. Thou Which never knells but for a princely
day!
death,
That slowly walk'st the waters ! march— Or for a state in peril, pealing forth
march on!
Tremendous bodements ; let it do its office,
I would not smite i' the dark, but rather And be this peal its awfullest and last.
see
Sound till the strong tower rock !_What!
That no stroke errs. And you, ye blue sea silent still?
Waves!
I would go forth, but that my post is here,
I have seen you dyed ere now, and deeply To be the centre of re-union to
too,
The oft discordant elements which form
With Genoese, Saracen, and Hunnish gore, Leagues of this nature, and to keep compact
While that of Venice flow'd too, but victo- The wavering or the weak, in case of
rious :
conflict;
Now thou must wear an unmix'd crimson ; For if they should do battle, 'twill be here,
no
Within the palace, that the strife will
Barbaric blood can reconcile us now
thicken :
Into that horrible incarnadine,
Then here must be my station, as becomes
But friend or foe will roll in civic slaughter. The master-mover.-Hark! he comes
And have I liv'd to fourscore years for this ? he comes,
I, who was named Preserver of the City ? Mynephew, brave Bertuccio's messenger.
I, at whose name the million's caps were What tidings ? Is he marching ? hath he
Aung
sped.
Into the air, and cries from tens of thousands They here !e-all is lost- yet will I make
Rose up, imploring heaven to send me an effort.
blessings,
Enter a Signor of the Night, with
And fame, and length of days--to see this
Guards, &c.
day?
Signor. Doge, I arrest thee of high
But this day, black within the calendar, treason !
VOL. IX.
N


100
Lord Byron's Doge of Venice.
[April,
sense
Doge.
Me! Of seamen to the surge: I would not take
Thy prince of treason ?- Who are they A life eternal, granted at the hands
that dare
Of wretches, from whose monstrous yil-
Cloak their own treason under such an lainies
order ?"
I sought to free the groaning nations !
The drama, which is indeed full of Michel Steno.
Doge,
uniformly sustained interest from be- A word with thee, and with this noble lady,
ginning to end, -and which has the Whom I have grievously offended. Would
high merit so uncommon in modern Sorrow, or shame, or penance on my part,
Could cancel the inexorable past!
performances, of embodying no episo- But since that cannot be, as Christians let us
dical deformity whatever—now hurries Say farewell, and in peace : with full
in full career to its close. Every thing contrition
is dispatched with the stern decision I crave, not pardon, but compassion from
of a tyrannical aristocracy. There is
you,
no hope of mercy on any side,-there And give, however weak, my prayers for
is no petition,-nay, there is no wish both.
for mercy. Even the plebeian con Ang. Sage Benintende, now chief judge
spirators have too much Venetian
of Venice,
blood in them to be either scared by Inform the ribald Steno, that his words
I speak to thee in answer to yon signor.
the approach, or shaken in the mo-
ment of death; and as for the Doge,
Ne'er weigh'd in mind with Loredano's
he bears himself as becomes a warrior Further than to create a moment's pity
daughter,
of sixty years, and a deeply insulted For such as he is: would that others had
prince. At the moment, however, which Despised him as I pity! I prefer
immediately precedes the pronouncing My honour to a thousand lives, could such
of the sentence, admission is asked Be multiplied in mine, but would not have
and obtained, by one from whom less A single life of others lost for that
of the Spartan firmness might have Which nothing human can impugn-the
been expected.
This is Angiolina.
She indeed hazards one fervent prayer A good name for reward, but to itself.
Of virtue, looking not to what is call’d
to the unbending Senate; but she sees
in a moment that it is in vain, and Unto the rock : but as there are, alas !
To me the scorner's words were as the wind
she recovers herself on the instant; Spirits more sensitive, on which such things
and turning to her lord, who stands Light as the whirlwind on the waters; souls
calm and collected at the foot of the To whom dishonour's shadow is a substance
council table, speaks words worthy of More terrible than death here and hereafter ;
him and of herself. Nothing can be Men whose vice is to start at vice's scoffing,
more unexpected, or more beautiful And who, though proof against all bland-
than the behaviour of the young Pa-
ishments
trician, who interrupts their conver- of pleasure, and all pangs of pain, are feeble,
sation.
When the proud name on which they pina-
cled
Benintende. Lady, it cannot be. Their hopes is breathed on, jealous as the
Ang. (Turning to the Doge.) Then die,
eagle
Faliero! since it must be so ;
Of her high aiery ; let what we now
But with the spirit of my father's friend. Behold, and feel, and suffer, be a lesson
Thou hast been guilty of a great offence, To wretches how they tamper in their spleen
Half-cancell’d by the rashness of these men. With beings of a higher order. Insects
I would have sued to them—have pray'd Have made the lion mad ere now ; a shaft
to them-
I’the heel o'erthrew the bravest of the brave;
Have begg'd as famish'd mendicants for A wife's dishonour was the bane of Troy ;
bread
A wife's dishonour unking'd Rome for ever,
Have wept as they will cry unto their God An injured husband brought the Gauls to
For mercy, and beanswer'd as they answer Clusium,
Had it been fitting for thy name or mine, And thence to Rome, which perish'd for a
And if the cruelty in their cold eyes
Had not announced the heartless wrath An obscene gesture cost Caligula
within.
His life, while earth yet boie his cruelties;
Then, as a prince, address thee to thy A virgin's wrong made Spain a Moorish
doom !
province ;
Doge. I have lived too long not to know And Steno's lie, couch'd in two worthless
how to die !
lines,
Thy suing to these men were but the
Hath decimated Venice, put in peril
bleating
A senate which hath stood cight hundred
Of the lamb to the butcher, or the cry
years,
time;


1821.)
Lord Byron's Doge of Venice.
101
Discrown'd a prince, cut off his crownless scene of his triumphs and his sorrows.
head,
The present abject condition of her
And forged new fetters for a groaning peo- that once did hold the gorgeous East
ple!
in fee"—the barbarian sway under
Let the poor wretch, like to the Courtesan, which she is bowed down to the dust
Who fired Persepolis, be proud of this,
-the profligacy of manners, which
If it so please him— 'twere a pride fit for
him !
ought rather, perhaps, to have been
But let him not insult the lost hours of
represented as the cause than the con-
Him, who, whate'er he now is, was a hero, sequence of the lossof Venetian liberty;
By the intrusion of his very prayers ;
-all these topics are handled-and
Nothing of good can come from such a source, handled as no living writer but Byron
Nor would we aught with him, nor now, could have dared to handle them. We
nor ever:
shall quote the greater part of the pe-
We leave him to himself, that lowest depth nult scene, and the whole of the last.
Of human baseness. Pardon is for man,
And not for reptiles—wehavenone for Steno,
Ben. Hast thou more
And no resentment: things like him must To utter or to do?
sting,
Doge. May I speak ?
And higher beings suffer ; 'tis the charter
Ben. Thou may'st ;
Of life. The man who dies by the adder’s But recollect the people are without,
fang
Beyond the compass of the human voice.
May have the crawler crush'd, but feels no
Dogr. I speak to Time and to Eternity,
anger :
Of which I grow a portion, not to man.
'Twas the worm's nature ; and some men
Ye elements ! in which to be resolved
are worms
I hasten, let my voice be as a spirit
In soul, more than the living things of Upon you! ye blue waves, which bore my
tombs.
banner,
Doge (to Benintende.) Signor! complete Ye winds ! 'which flutter'd o’cr, as if you
that which you deem your duty,
loved it,
Ben. Before we can proceed upon that And filld my swelling sails as they were
duty,
wafted
We would request the Princess to withdraw, To many a triumph! Thou, my native
"Twill move her too much to be witness
earth,
to it.
Which I have bled for, and thou foreign
Ang. I know it will, and yet I must en.
earth,
dure it,
Which drank this willing blood from many
For 'tis a part of mine ; I will not quit,
a wound!
Except by force, my husband's side. Pro- Ye stones, in which my gore will not sink,
ceed!
but
Nay, fear not either shriek, or sigh, or
Reek up to Heaven ! Ye skies, which will
tear;
receive it!
Though my heart burst, it shall be silent. Thou sun! which shinest on these things,
Speak!
and Thou !
I have that within which shall o'ermaster Who kindlest, and who quenchest suns !
all.
attest !
The sentence is pronounced ; a brief I am not innocent—but are these guiltless ?
hour is permitted for the last devotions, Float up from the abyss of time to be,
I perish, but not unavenged ; far ages
and then,-still robedin hisducal gown, And show these eyes, before they close, the
and wearing thediadem,--preceded with
doom
all the pomp of his station, from which of this proud city, and I leave my curse
he is to be degraded in the moment On her and hers for ever !_Yes, the hours
only before the blow be struck,-Ma- Are silently engendering of the day,
rino Faliero is led solemnly to the When she, who built 'gainst Attila a bul-
Giant's stair-case, at the summit of wark,
which he had been crowned. On that Shall yield, and bloodlessly, and basely
spot he is to expiate his offence against yield
the majesty of the Venetian state. His Unto a bastard Attila, without
wife struggles to accompany him to Shedding so much blood in her last defence
the dreadful spot, but she faints, and As these old veins, oft drain’d in shielding
he leaves her on the marble pavement, Shall pour in sacrifice.—She shall be bought
forbidding them to raise her until all And sold, and be an appanage to those
had been accomplished with himself. Who shall despise her -She shall stoop to
Lord Byron brcaks out with all his
be
power in the curse with which he A province for an empire, petty town
makes this old man take leave of the In lieu of capital, with slaves for senates,


102
Lord Byron's Doge of Venice.
[April,
my curse!
Beggars for nobles, pandars for a people ;
Slave, do thine office !
Then when the Hebrew's in thy palaces Strike as I have struck the foe! Strike as
The Hun in thy high places, and the Greek I would
Walks o'er thy mart, and smiles on it for Have struck those tyrants ! strike deep as
his!
When thy patricians beg their bitter bread Strike, and but once.
In narrow strçets, and in their shameful ( The Doge throws himself upon his
need
knees, and as the executioner raises
Make their nobility a plea for pity !
his sword the scene closes.)
Then, when the few who still retain a wreck
SCENE IV. -The Piazza and Piazzetta of
Of their great father's heritage shall fawn
St Mark's.—The people in crowds ga-
Round a barbarian vice of king's vice-
thered round the gra gates of the Du-
gerent,
cal Palace, which are shut.
Even in the palace where they sway'd as
sovereigns--
First Cit. I have gain'd the gate, and
Even in the palace where they slew their can discern the Ten,
sovereign,
Robed in their gowns of state, ranged round
Proud of some name they have disgraced, the Doge.
or sprung
Second Cit. I cannot reach thee with
From an adultress, boastful of her guilt, mine utmost effort.
With some large gondolier or foreign sol. How is it ? let us hear at least, since sight
dier,
Is thus prohibited unto the people,
Shall bear about their bastardy in triumph Except the occupiers of those bars.
To the third spurious generation ;-when First Cit. One has approach'd the Doge,
Thy sons are in the lowest scale of being, and now they strip
Slaves turn'd o'er to the vanquish'd by the The Ducal bonnet from his head—and now
victors,
He raises his keen eyes to heaven ; I see
Despis'd by cowards for greater cowardice, Them glitter, and his lips move-Hush !
And scorn'd even by the vicious for such hush !_no,
vices
'Twas but a murmur-Curse upon the
As in the monstrous grasp of their con distance !
ception,
His words are inarticulate, but the voice
Defy all codes to image or to name them; Swells up like mutter'd thunder ; would
Then, when of Cyprus, now thy subject
we could
kingdom,
But gather a sole sentence !
All thine inheritance shall be her shame, Second Cit. Hush! we perhaps may
Entạil'd on thy less virtuous daughters, catch the sound.
grown
First Cit.
'Tis vain,
A wider proverb for worse prostitution, I cannot hear him.-How his hoary hair
When all the ills of conquer'd states shall Streams on the wind like foam upon the
cling thee,
wave !
Vice without splendour, sin without relief, Now-now-he kneels-and now they
Even from the gloss of love to smooth it o'er, form a circle
But in its stead coarse lusts of habitude, Round him, and all is hidden—but I see
Prurient yet passionless, cold studied lewd- The lifted sword in air-Ah! hark! it falls !
ness,
(The people murmur.
Depraving nature's frailty to an art; Third Cit. Then they have murdered
When these and more are heavy on thee, him, who would have freed us.
when
Fourth Cit. He was a kind man to the
Smiles without mirth, and pastimes without commons ever.
pleasure,
Fifth Cit. Wisely they did to keep their
Youth without honour, age without respect,
portals barr’d.
Meanness and weakness, and a sense of Would we had known the work they were
preparing
'Gainst which thou wilt not strive, and Ere we were summond here, we would
dar'st not murmur,
have brought
Have made thee last and worst of peopled Weapons, and forced them!
deserts,
Sixth Cit. Are you sure he's dead ?
Then, in the last gasp of thine agony, First Cit. I saw the sword fall_Lo!
Amidst thy many murders think of mine ! what have we here?
Thou den of drunkards with the blood of Enter on the balcony of the Palace
princes !
Gehenna of the waters ! thou sea Sodom !
which fronts St Mark's Place, a
CHIEF OF THE TEN, with a
Thus I devote thee to the infernal gods !
bloody sword. He waves it thrice
Thee and thy serpent seed !
before the people, and crclaims--
(Here the Doge turns and addresses the “ Justice hath dealt upon the mighty
executioner.)
traitor!"
woe


1821.]
Lord Byron's Doge of Venice.
103
(The gates are opened ; the popu- Lion of St Mark, yet floating there
lace rush in towards the“Giant's against the sea and the sky. Turn to
Staircase,” where the execution the old church, with all its gilded cu-
has taken place. The foremost polas, and Mosaic-covered walls, and
of them exclaims to those behind, twisted pillars, and oriental windows;
The gory head rolls down the “ Giant's and, last of all, turn towards the two
Steps !"
flag-staffs, and observe between them
[The curtain falls. some hundred or two white-coated
We earnestly advise our Edinburgh black-gaitered Austrians, drawn up to
readers who have not yet seen the pa- the sound of fife and drum by the side
norama of Venice, at present exhibit- of a field-piece.-Look at this beauti-
ed in this city, to go forthwith and ful picture, and then read once again
see it. It is the finest piece of the the curse of the Doge Marino Faliero.
kind we ever saw-not even excepting The present volume contains also
the finest we ever saw, that of Serin- “ The Prophecy of Dante," of which
gapatam. It places the spectator at we have, at this moment, no time to
once in the midst of all the moulder- say any thing more than that it seems
ing but yet visible magnificence of the to be quite worthy of its author, so far
“Sea Cybelle." The piazza of St Mar as the spirit of it goes; but that it by
tin lies at your feet, all surrounded no means reconciles our ear to the me-
with the finest possible rauges of old lody of the rima terza in English.
demi-Saracenic architecture; the walls This, however, may be merely the
of every edifice blazing with tapestries effect of its novelty. We are not, in-
and banners ; every window full of deed, quite sure that even the Lau-
Howers; every roof crowded with reate's attempt to introduce the an-
mimes and laughing boys. The whole cient hexameter into our prosody,
of the immense area below shews like ought to be entirely reprobated. We
the beau ideal of Vanity-fair. There do not think, that, in the general, Mr
are mountebanks, apes, buffoons, pro- Southey makes quite so much of that
cessions, piinps, scuffles, merriment, measure as he might have done ; but
gaudiness, glitter endless and bound- in spite of all the extravagance of
less. It is the vain affected extrava “ The Vision of Judgınent,” he must
gance of self-inflicted degradation. be no very worshipful critic who has
Turn to the blue sea, which meets not discovered in that production a
every where around the embrace of the great deal both of true poetry and of
bright Italian heavens, and observe the delicious versification.


104
[ April,
Works Preparing for Publication.
WORKS PREPARING FOR PUBLICATION,
LONDON.
In the press, and speedily will be publish Shortly will be published, the first num.
ed, a second edition, revised, corrected, and ber of Illustrations of Shakspeare, engra-
enlarged, in four large volumes 8vo. illus- ved in the finest style, by the most eminent
trated with maps and numerous fac-similes historical engravers, from pictures painted
of Biblical MSS. of The Introduction to expressly for this work, by Robert Smirke,
the Critical Study and Knowledge of the Esq. R.A.
Holy Scriptures.' By Thomas Hartwell Mr Thomas Taylor is about to publish
Horne, M. D. author of the Scripture Doc- by subscription, in one volume, 8vo. Iam-
trine of the Trinity Defended, Deism Re- blichus on the Mysteries of the Egyptians,
futed, &c.
Chaldeans, and Assyrians; being the most
Travels through Denmark, Sweden, Lap- copious, clearest, and most satisfactory de.
land, Finland, Norway, and Russia, with fence of the theology of the ancients.
a description of the City of St Petersburgh, Mr Partington, of the London Institu-
during the tyranny of the Emperor Paul. tion, will shortly publish a work on Steam
By E. D. Clarke, L.L.D. being the sixth Engines, comprising a description of this
and concluding volume of the author's stupendous machine, in all its varied mo-
Travels in Europe, Asia, and Africa. difications; with a complete analysis of the
A Reply to the “ End of Religious Con. various patents connected with this branch
troversy," by Rev. J. Milner, D.D. Bi. of mechanics to the present time.
shop of Castabala, from the pen of Rev. Another work on Steam Engines and
Richard Grier, A.M.
Steam-boats, by Mr John Farey, junior,
Will be published in a few weeks, A illustrated with numerous engravings, by
Historical and Topographical Account of Lowrie, is in a state of great forwardness.
Devonshire, being the ninth part of Mag The Legend of Argyle, a novel, in 3 vols.
na Britannia, or a concise account of the 12mo.
several counties of Great Britain ; by Rev. The Hall of Hellingsby, a tale in 2 vols. ;
Dan. Lysons, and the late Samuel Lysons, by the author of Mary de Clifford, Arthur
Esq.
Fitz-Albini, &c. &c.
Elements of the Science of Political Eco A Treatise on the Epidemic Cholera of
nomy, by Mr Mill, author of the History India ; by James Boyle, surgeon of his
of British India.
Majesty ship Minden.
The History and Antiquities of the Preparing for publication by Mr Ed.
Tower of London; with Biographical Anec. ward Blaquiere, Letters from Spain, con.
dotes of royal and distinguished Persons; taining an account of the past and present
by John Bayley, Esq. F.S.A. of the Hon. condition of the Peninsula ; observations
Society of the Inner Temple, and his Ma on public character, literature, manners,
jesty's Record Office in the Tower. It &c.
will be illustrated with numerous engra Sermons on important subjects, by T.
vings, by artists of the first eminence; and L. O'Beirne, D.D. Bishop of Meath."
be comprized in two parts; the first of A Treatise on Indigestion, by A. P. W.
which will be published early in the month Philip, M.D. is nearly ready for publica-
of May, and the other in the course of the tion.
present year.
Memoirs of the Carbonari, and of the
In the course of the month will be pub- Secret Societies of the South of Italy; with
lished, a Satirical Novel, entitled, Money Biographical Memoirs of several Persons
Raising; or a Day in Cork-street; contains who have lately distinguished themselves
ing sketches of character, and original let- in the revolutions of that kingdom; with an
ters.
appendix of original documents. Illustrated
Observations on some of the general with portraits and other interesting plates.
Principles, and on the particular Nature and Mr Elmes has issued proposals for pub-
Treatment of the different Species of Inflam- lishing by subscription, Nemoirs of the
mation; by J. H. James, surgeon to the Life and Works of Sir Christopher Wren,
Devon and Exeter Hospital.
with a view of the Progress of Architecture
Archbishop King's Sermon on Predesti- in England, from the beginning of the
nation; a new edition, with notes ; by Rev. reign of Charles I. to the end of the seven.
R. Whalley, Fellow of Oriel.
teenth century.
Preparing for publication, by Rev. Hugh A Treatise on Acupuncturation, being a
Owen, and Rev. J. Blackeway, a History description of a surgical operation, original-
of the Town of Shrewsbury,in 2 quarto vols.; ly peculiar to the Japanese and Chinese,
with numerous antiquarian illustrations. now introduced into European practice,
Observations on the Diseases of Females. with cases illustrating the success of the
Part II. by Charles Mansfield Clarke. operation, by Mr J. M. Churchill.


1821.]
Works Preparing for Publication.
105
Dr Forbes of Penzance is preparing for Doctor Wood, Author of the Prize Es.
publication, a Translation of M. Lænnec's say on Irish History and Antiquities, pub-
work, on the Pathology and Diagnosis of lished in the thirteenth volume of the
the Diseases of the Chest.
Transactions of the Royal Irish Academy,
The Theory of Topographical Plan- has now in the press, a work, entitled " An
Drawing and Surveying; or, Guide to the Inquiry concerning the Primitive Inhabi-
just Conception and accurate Representation tants of Ireland," which is expected to ap-
of the Surface of the Earth, in maps and pear on the 1st of May, in 1 vol. 8vo. il-
plans; by J. G. Lehmann, Major in the lustrated with a curious Map, containing
Saxon Infantry. Published and illustrated the local situations of the tribes of Ireland
by G. A. Fischer, Professor at the Saxon in the second century-partly Ptolemy's,
Royal Academy, and translated from the and partly the Author's. There will be
original German ; by William Siborn, a dissertation proving the authenticity of
lieutenant, H.P. 9th infantry, with seven Ptolemy's Map. From the talents, re-
teen plates, engraved by Lowry.
search, acute reasoning, and antiquarian
Mi Woolnoth is preparing for publica- knowledge displayed by the learned author
tion, a Series of views of our ancient Castles, in his Prize Essay, we are led to expect a
to be engraved from drawings by Arnold, faithful history of Ireland, abounding with
Fielding, &c. with descriptions, by E. W. curious and interesting matter relative to
Brayley, jun.
its antiquities, and the degree of civiliza-
The fifth volume of the Personal Narra- tion, manners and customs of its primitive
tive of M. de Humboldt's Travels to the inhabitants. The Work will be brought
Equinoctial Regions of the new Continent, down to the close of the twelfth century.
during the years 1799-1804, translated by A Volume of Original Poetry is in the
Helen Maria Williams, under the immé. press, and will speedily appear in a hand-
diate inspection of the author.
some form, comprising “ Ismael, or the
A View of the Structure, Functions, and Arab, an Oriental Romance, Sketches of
Disorders of the Stomach, and Alimentary Scenery, Foreign and Domestic, with other
Organs of the Human Body, with remarks Poems;" by the author of the novel of
on the qualities and effects of food and “ Lochiel, or the Field of Culloden."
fermented liquors; by Thomas Harc, F.L.S. Preparing for immediate Publication, a
In the press, Correlative Claims and Series of Portraits, illustrative of the No.
Duties; or, an Essay on the Necessity of a vels and Tales of the Author of Waverley,
Church Establishment, and the means of &c. The whole will be engraved in the
exciting among its members a spirit of de most highly finished manner, from Draw-
votion, to which the Society for Promoting ings made expressly for the purpose, from
Christian Knowledge and Church Union, in the most authentic originals.
the diocese of St David's, adjudged a pre Memoirs of the Revolution of Mexico,
mium of £50 in December 1820; by Rev. with a Narrative of the Campaign of Ge-
SC. Wilks, A.M.
neral Mina, Anecdotes of his life, and Ob-
Shortly will be published by Mr Wilson, servations on the Practicability of connect-
teacher of dancing, (from the King's Tha- ing the Pacific with the Atlantic Ocean, by
tre,) an Essay on Deportment, chietly re means of Navigable Canals ; by W. D.
lating to the person in dancing.
Robinson, 2 vols. 8vo.
Principles of the Bankrupt Law; by Saul, a Tragedy ; translated from the
Archibald Cullen, Esq. Second Edition, in Italian of Count Victorio Alfieri ; and
2 vols. 8vo. with great Alterations and Ad Jephtha; a Seriptural Drama; by a Lady.
ditions down to the time of Publication. Notes and Illustrations to “ The Life of
The Second Volume will contain the Sta- Lorenzo de Medici,” Including a Vindica-
totes, General Orders, Forins, and Matters tion of the Author's Character against the
of Practice.
Criticisins and Misrepresentations of several
An Elementary Treatise on the Theory Writers who have noticed that Work, and
of Equations of the Higher Orders; and accompanied by original Documents ; by
on the Summation and Revertion of Alge William Roscoe, Esq. In 1 vol. 8vo.
braie Series ; by the Rev. B. Bridge, in 1 Sermons ; by Edward Maltby, D. D.
yol. 8vo.
Volume 2d. 8vo.
A Second Edition of M. Lavaysse's Shortly will be published, the Expedi.
Work (edited by Edward Blaquiere, Esq.) tion of Orgua, and Crimes of Lope de
on Venezuela, New Granada, Tobago and Aguirre ; by Dr Southey.
Trinidad, is also in the press.
!


106
Works preparing for Publication.
[ April,
EDINBURGH.
Annals of the Parish ; or, the Chronicles Others, Christina's Revenge, or the Fate of
of Dalmailing, during the Ministry of the Monaldeschi, which will be published in a
Rev. Micah Balwhidder; written by him- short time.
self. Arranged and Edited by the Author The Supplement to the Iliad, in 14
of “ The Ayrshire Legatees," &c. in 1 vol. Books, by Quintus Smyrneus, translated
12mo.
from the Greek, by Alexander Dyce, A. B.
Mr Moffat is preparing for the press a with Illustrative Notes and a Preface.
Volume of Poems, containing, among
MONTHLY LIST OF NEW PUBLICATIONS.
LONDON.
BIOGRAPHY.
DRAMA
AGRICULTURE.
An Essay on Soils, and Composts, and Memoirs of Rev. Mark Wilks, late of
the Propagation and Culture of Ornamen- Norwich, by Sarah Wilks, with a Portrait,
tal Trees, Shrubs, and Flowers; by T.
12mo. 7s.
Haynes, nurseryman, Oundle, Northamp Life of the Duke de Berri; by M. Cha-
ton, 12mo. 5s.
teaubriand, 8vo. 78. Od.
ANTIQUITIES.
Memoirs of the Life and Writings of the
Index Monasticus ; or, Abbeys and other Right Rev. Brian Walton, D.D. Lord Bi-
Monasteries, Alien Priories, Friaries, &c. shop of Chester, editor of the London Poly-
formerly established in the diocese of Nor. glott Bible; by Rev. H. I. Todd, M.A.
wich, and the ancient kingdom of East 8vo. 2 vols. 21, Is.
Anglia ; by Richard Taylor of Norwich. Select Female Biography, comprising
Folio. £3, 3s.
Memoirs of eminent British Ladies, 12mo.
Views of the Remains of Ancient Build. 6s. Od.
ings in Rome and its vicinity, with a descrip Memoirs of H. Wallace, Esq. descend.
tive and historical account of each subject; ant of the illustrious Hero of Scotland ;
by M. Dubourg. 1 Vol. Atlas 4to. half written by himself, with a highly finished
bound, engraved on 26 plates, and beauti- portrait, 8vo. 10s. 6d.
fully coloured, to imitate drawings. £7, Memoirs of the Life of the Right Hon.
78.
William Pitt; by George Tomline, D.D.
The Topography of Athens, with some Bishop of Winchester, 4to. vols. 1, 2.
remarks on its antiquities ; by Lieut. Col.
Leake; with maps and plates ; the latter Thérèse, the Orphan of Geneva. Is. 6d.
from the drawings of C. Cockerell, Esq. Dramatic Works of Hon. R. B. Sheri.
8vo. £1, 108.
dan, with a Preface by Thomas Moore,
8vo. 2 vols. 28s.
Hints on an Improved Mode of Build Hamlet, and As You Like It; a speci.
ing, applicable to General Purposes ; by men of a new edition of Shakespeare ; by
T. D. W. Dearn, architect, 8vo. Plates. Thomas Caldecott, Esq. 8vo. 158.
48. 6d.
The Architect and Antiquary's Club, Grammatical Studies in the Latin and
12mo.
English Languages ; arranged by James
The Grecian, Roman, and Gothic, Archi- Ross, L.L.D. 38. 6d.
tecture, considered as applicable to Public Key to the Second and Third Parts of
and Private Buildings in this country; by Ellis's Exercises, from the writings of Ci.
W. Fox. 58.
cero, 12mo. 3s.
Principles of Design in Architecture, Practical Method of Teaching the Li-
traced in observations on Buildings, Prim- ving Languages; by C. V. A. Marcel, 8vo.
eval, Egyptian, Phænician, or Syrian, Gre-
cian, Roman, &c. &c. &c. in Letters to a A Geographical Exercise Book ; by C.
Friend, 8vo. 7s.
Robertson. 3s. 6d.
The Mental Calculator; by P. Lovekin.
Elementary Illustrations of the Celestial 35.
Mechanics of La Place, 8vo. 10s. 6d. An Italian Translation of Mad Cottin's
BIBLIOGRAPHY.
Elizabeth ; by M. Santagnello, 12mo. 6s.
Ogle and Duncan's Catalogue of Books The Pastorals of Virgil, with a course of
in Theology, and Mental Literature, 8vo. English reading, adapted for schools, with
Lackington and Company's Catalogue of 230 Engravings; by Ř. J. Thornton, M.D.
Books for 1821-22. Part 1.
12mo. 2 vols. los.
Bossange's Catalogue Raisonne of French, Mathiæ's Greek Grammar, by Bloom-
Italian, and Spanish books, 48.
field ; a new edition, 2 vols. 8vo. 30..
ARCHITECTURE.
EDUCATION.
ASTRONOMY.


1921.]
Monthly List of New Publications.
107
POLITICS.
THEOLOGY.
Paris in 1815. Second Part, with other Nations ; or, a View of the Intercourse of
Poems. By the Rev. G. Croly, A. M. 8vo. Countries as influencing their Wealth, 8vo.
ás. Ed.
9s.
Takings, illustrative of the Life of a Col Thoughts on the Criminal Prisons of this
logian, with 26 Sketches from the Designs Country; by George Holford, Esq. M. P.
of R. Dagley, royal 8vo. 21s.
8vo. 2s.
Sketches in Hindostan.-1. The Lion A Letter to a Member of Parliament on
Hunt.–2. Pindarees, with other Poems; the Police of the Metropolis. Is.
by Thomas Medwin, 8vo. 55. 6d.
Second Series of Sketches, from St Letter from the King to his People; twen-
George's Fields, illustrated with Vignettes tieth edition. 2s.
from the author's designs; by Giorgione de The Declaration of England against the
Castel Chiuso, foolscap 8vo. 10s. Acts and Projects of Austria, Russia,
High Birth, a Satire, in imitation of Ju. Prussia, &c. with an Appendix, containing
Fenal 3s. 6d.
Official Documents, 8vo. 3s. 6d.
The Vision of Judgment; by R. Sou A Letter to Mr Whitbread, M. P. on
they, 4to. 15s.
his parliamentary Duties, by a celebrated
Poems, by P. M. James; fools. 8vo. 58. Irish Barrister, Is.
The Indian and Lazarus, 12mo. 3s. 6d.
Scripture Melodies ; by a Clergyman ; True and False Religion, practically and
foolscap, 8vo. 5s.
candidly considered ; every part proved from
The Last Days of Herculaneum, and the Bible, and confirmed from quotations
Abradates, and Panthea ; by Edwin Ather from the greatest Divines ; by Rev. G. G.
stone ; foolscap, 8vo. 58.
Scraggs, A. M. minister of Union Chapel,
Astarte ; . with other Poems ; by Mrs Poplar, 12mo. 7s.
Cornwell Baron Wilson.
Speculum Gregis ; or, Parochial Minis-
Santa Mara, Marion, and other Poems : ter's Assistant ; by a Country Curate. 5s.
by Miss Francis ; foolscap, 8vo. 58. The Liturgy of the Church of England
The Improvisatore, in three Fyttes ; Explained; by Henry Jenkins, 12mo.5s.
vith other Poems ; by T. L. Beddoes, A Series of Sermons on the Christian
12no. 55.
Faith and Character ; by Rev. J. B. Sum.
The Fourth Book of Tasso's Jerusalemn ner, 8vo. 10s. 6d.
Delivered ; being the Specimen of an in Select British Divines ; Part I. contain-
tended New Translation in English Spen- ing the First Part of Bishop Beveridge's
serian Verse; by J. H. Wiffen, 8vo. 5s. 6d. Private Thoughts ; by Rev. C. Bradley,
Machin; or, the Discovery of Madeira, royal, 18mo. 2s.6d.
a Poen; by James Bird, author of the Thirty-six Evening Prayers, as used in
Vale of Haughden, 8vo. 58. 6d.
her own Family ; by a Lady, 4to. 5s.
Aonian Hours; by J. H. Wiffen. Se. The Church and the Clergy; exhibiting
cond edition, 8vo. 18. 6d.
the obligations of Society, Literature, and
POLITICAL ECONOMY.
the Arts to the Ecclesiastical Orders, and
A View of the Circulating Medium of the advantages of an Established Priest-
the Bank of England, from its incorpora- hood ; by G. E. Shuttleworth, 8vo. 8s.
tion to the present time. 2s.
Summary View of a Work now in the
A Remonstrance addressed to the Author press, entituled, “ Not Paul but Jesus," as
of two Letters to Hon. Robert Peel, on the exhibited in Introduction, Plan of the
Effects of a Variable Standard of Value, Work, and Tables of Chapters and Sec-
and on the Condition of the Poor, 8vo. 2s.6d. tions ; by Gamaliel Smith, Esq. Price 1s.
Political Observations on the Restrictive
and Prohibitory Commercial System; from Narrative of the Chinese Embassy, from
the MSS. of Jeremy Bentham, Esq. By the Emperor of China, Kang Hee, to the
John Bowring. 8vo. price 2s.
Khan of Tourgouth Tartars, in 1712-15 ;
Two Letters to the Earl of Liverpool on by the Chinese Ambassador. Translated
the Distresses of Agriculture, and their from the original Chinese, with an Appen-
influence on the Manufactures, Trade, and dix, &c.; by Sir G. T. Staunton, writer,
Commerce of the United Kingdom ; with L. L. D. F. R. S. 8vo. with a Map. 185.
Observations on Cash Payments, and a Belzoni's Narrative of Operations and
Free Trade ; by Lord Stourton, 8vo. 3s. Discoveries in Egypt. Second edition, with
Letters to Mr Malthus on several Sub an Appendix and Map, 4to. £2, 5s.
jects of Political Economy, and particularly The Appendix to First Edition sold se-
on the Cause of General Stagnation of parate. 5s.
Commerce, translated from the French of Journal of New Voyages and Travels ;
J. B. Say; by John Richer, Esq. 8vo. 6s. Vol. V. Part I. containing Von Halberg's
Conversations on Political Economy, in Journey through the North of Germany,
a Series of Dialogues; by J. Pinsent. 35. 6d. Denmark, Sweden, and Norway, and a Vi.
An Essay on the Political Economy of sit to Madras in the Year 1811. 35. 6d.
VOYAGES AND TRAVELS.
Vol. IX.
N 2


108
Monthly List of New Publications.
[April,
HISTORY
Il Bagatello, intended to facilitate the to Prevent and Relieve Indigestion, and to
study of Italian to young beginners; by E. Regulate and Invigorate the Action of the
Realle, 12mo. 35.
Stomach and Bowels, 12mo. 3s.
FINE ARTS.
Monthly Journal of Popular Medicine ;
A Picturesque Tour of the Sienne, from by Charles Haden, surgeon. 16s.
Paris to the Sea; No. I. and II. each il. Advice to the Physician, the Surgeon,
lustrated by four highly coloured engra- and the Apothecary, and to their Patients,
vings, elephant 4to. 14s. each.
after the manner of Dean Swift; by a Phy-
Picturesque Delineations of the Southern sician. 3s.
Coast of England, containing views of Lul. A Treatise on Cataract, intended to de-
worth Castle, Torbay, Minehead, &c.; by termine the Operations required by diffe-
W. and G. Cooke; Part XI.
rent forms of that Disease, on Physiologi.
Twelve Plates of Birds, designed for the cal Principles ; by P. C. Delagarde, Mem-
use of the Artist, Connoisseur, and Natu. ber of the Royal College of Surgeons, 8vo.
ralist, demy fol. 58. 6d.
8s.
MISCELLANIES.
Historical Memoirs of the English, Irish, Letter to
***** on Rev. W.
and Scottish Catholics; by Charles Butler, L. Bowles's Strictures on the Life and Wri.
Esq. Vols. 3, 4, 8vo. 11, 10s.
tings of Pope; by Lord Byron, 8vo. 35. 6d.
An Essay on the History of the English Table Talk; or, Original Essays; by
Government and Constitution, from the William Hazlitt, 8vo. 14s.
Reign of Henry VII. to the Present Time; Stockdale's Calendar for 1821, with a
by Lord John Russell. Post, 8vo. Peerage, corrected to the present time. £1,
Memoirs, by James Earl Waldegrave, 6s.
K. G. one of his Majesty's Privy Council On the Beauties, Harmonies, and Su.
in the reign of George II. and Governor of blimities of Nature ; by Charles Bucke,
George III. when Prince of Wales, being Esq. 4 vols. 8vo. £2, 12s. 6d.
a short Account of Political Contentions, The Tradesman's, Merchant's, and Ac.
Party Quarrels, and Events of Consequence countant's Assistant ; by David Booth,
from 1754 to 1757 ; with a Portrait, 1 vol. 8vo. 9s.
small 4to. £1, 5s.
An Essay on Dry Rot, and Forest Trees;
A Narrative of the Campaigns of the by Robert M.William. £l, lls. 6d.
British Army at Washington and New Or The Etonian, No. VI. 28.
leans, in 1814-15; by an Officer. 8vo. 12s. The Cadet's Guide to India. 2s. 6d.
The Classical, Biblical, and Oriental
Horticultural Transactions. Vol. IV. Journal, XLV. 6s.
Part 2. £1, 10s.
The Journal of Science, Literature, and
the Arts, No. XXI. 78. Od.
An Analytical Digest of the Reports of The Quarterly Review, No. XLVIII. 6s.
Cases decided in the Courts of Common The London Journal of Arts, (publish-
Law and Equity of Appeal at Nisi Prius, ed every two months,) No. VIII. 35. 6d.
in 1820 ; by H. Jeremy, Esq. 8vo. 9s. Transactions of the Cambridge Philoso-
The Magistrates' Memoranda ; or Re- phical Society, vol. 1. 4to. £l.
gister for Applications relative to the Du-
NOVELS.
ties of a Justice of the Peace, 4to. 4s. Helen de Tournon ; by Madame de Sou-
A Treatise on the Pleadings in Suits forza, translated from the French, 2 vols.
Tythes in Equity, &c.; by Charles Ellis, 12mo. 10s. 6d.
Esq. 8vo. 75. 6d.
The Fair Witch of Glasslyn, 3 vols. £1,4s.
R. Lloyd's New Table of Costs in Par. Bannockburn, 3 vols. 12mo. 18s.
liament, in Chancery, and in the Exche The Fatalists; or Records
1814-15;
quer, 8vo. 14s.
by Mrs Kelly, 5 vols. 12mo. £1, 7s. 6d.
A Treatise on the Law relative to the Concealment, 3 vols. 12mo. £I, Is.
Sales of Personal Property ; by George The Life and Adventures of Guzmand
Long, Esq. 8vo. 13s.
Alfarache ; or, the Spanish Rogue, trans-
R. H. Coote's Treatise on the Law of lated from the French of Le Sage ; by J.
Mortgage; royal 8vo. 16s.
H. Brady, 2 vols. 15s.
Comyn's Treatise on the Law of Land. Sir Francis Darrell ; or, the Vortex ; by
lord and Tenant, 8vo. £1, 3s.
R. C. Dallas, Esq. 4 vols. 12mo. £I, 8s.
A Treatise on the Law of Injunctions ;
POETRY.
by the Hon. R. Hanley Eden, 8vo. £1, ls. The Doge of Venice, a Historical Trà.
A Dissertation, shewing that the House gedy, in five acts ; with a Preface, Notes,
of Lords, in Cases of Judicature, are bound and an Appendix of Original Documents,
by the same Rules of Evidence that are ob. and the Prophecy of Dante, by Lord By-
served in other Courts ; by Professor Chris. ron, 8vo. 12s.
tian, 8vo. 6s.
The Belvidere Apollo, Fazio, a Tragedy,
MEDICINE.
and other Poems; by Rev. H. Milman,
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HORTICULTURE.
LAW.


1821.]
Monthly List of New Publications.
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110
Monthly List of New Publications.
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MONTHLY REGISTER.
COMMERCIAL REPORT.-9th April, 1821.
Sugar.-The demand for sugar has continued very steady, and prices rather on the
advance for finer qualities. The descriptions suited for refining are scarce, and much
wanted. The demand for foreign sugars has been dull; but the prices have not mate-
rially given way. The spring trade has not now the same effect upon the sugar mar-
ket that it formerly had, as the demand from this country is greatly lessened from the
direct trade carried on between European continental ports, and the colonies of foreign
powers. As new sugars may soon be expected in the market, the price is not likely to
improve. Cotton.—During the latter end of last month the demand for cotton was ex-
tremely brisk, the sales extensive, and at an advance on price. The demand has, how.
ever, again subsided; but the prices remain nearly stationary. It does not appear when
ther the demand was occasioned by speculation, from the exceeding low prices, or from
the real wants of the trade. The quantity of cotton which continues to be imported
into Liverpool is astonishingly great, and is so adequate for even the increased consumpt,
that we cannot see room for any material improvement in this article. Coffee. The de
mand for coffee continues very flat, and the prices rather on the decline. The quantity
of coffee that is now imported direct into various ports of Continental Europe is so great
as to take away, in a great measure, the trade from the merchants of Great Britain ; nor
is there any hope or prospect of obtaining the command of that trade again. Rum
The demand for rum continues extremely dull, and prices are sunk to a rate which is
altogether ruinous to the planter and importer. In Pimento there has been an increased
demand, from the scarcity of the article. Flax-seed has declined in price. Oils remain
nearly stationary. Tobacco has been rather in more request, but the prices are rather
declined. Some business has been done in Quercitron bark. The market for Fruit is
very heavy. On Bohea and low Congou teas there has been a small advance. The
silk market remains steady, and prices of some kinds a shade higher. A great and ra.
pid advance has taken place on the prices of spirits of turpentine, in consequence of the
very small stock. The Corn Market remains dull. Bonded wheat and American flour
are in more demand, and a trifling advance has taken place in prices accordingly.


1821)
Register. --Commercial Report.
111
There is very little demand for Rice, Ashes are dull, and very little business doing
Hides are without alteration. Regarding other articles of commerce no particular re.
mark is necessary,
The commencement of the year 1820 saw the trade of the British Empire in an un.
precedented state of languor and depression. Since that period it has been slowly, but
gradually, recovering its prosperity. Towards the latter end of the year a very consider-
able improvement had taken place in the chief manufacturing districts, though, in other
branches, less activity and improvement was evinced. The business, however, transacted
was done upon low terms, and at no adequate profit to the capitalist. The demand gra-
dually extending, and the price of the raw material getting more into a settled state, af.
forded prospects, for the future, more cheering than had for a long time taken place. The
condition of the labouring manufacturer, and several of the mechanical branches of trade,
vere greatly improved. Work was abundant, and the rise of wages very considerable ;
in some instances doubled, and in others much more. Provisions, also, were to be had
at an unusually low rate, which rendered the situation of the labouring poor very differ-
ent indeed at the end of 1820 to what it was at the beginning, and during the previous
year. On the other hand, the agricultural interests suffered most severely during the
year that is past ; nor are their sufferings in any degree removed. The evils which
lighted upon the manufacturing and commercial world, in 1819, were felt, in their full
force, by the agricultural part of the community, in 1820. The farmer could obtain no
adequate price for his produce, and the landlord, accordingly, found the payment of his
rents could only be obtained from the farmer who had accumulated a capital from the
profits of more fortunate years. The revival, however, of foreign commerce has given a
stimulus to the manufacturing interest, which will be gradually felt by the agricultural ;
and we have no doubt but the year 1821 will see the greater part of their distresses re.
moved, and open up a more cheering prospect for the future. The wise and energetic
measures of the executive Government have tended to silence that factious spirit which
stalked abroad, spreading discontent and disaffection amongst the population, and aggra,
vating thereby all our distresses ; and, it may now be presumed, that Reason will re.
sume her empire over the public mind, and quietness, peace, and prosperity spread over
the kingdom.
The trade, in general, between this country and Continental Europe has been languid
and upprofitable. This proceeds chiefly from the inability of the population to purchase
any thing but what their immediate and absolute wants require, but more particularly
from the encouragement which each country gives to its internal manufactures, and the
direct communication which is opened up between all these countries and other foreign states
and foreign colonies. This has deprived Great Britain of a very large proportion of the
trade in colonial produce, and the returns for the same for the supply of the colonial pos.
sessions of foreign powers, which formerly came through her hands. Thus from Peters.
burgh, and Hamburgh, and other places, a direct trade is carried on with South Ame.
rica, the Spanish colonies, and other places, which trade some years ago was to them un.
known. The Continental states derive great and immediate advantages from this com,
merce, as they not only obtain the produce of those places at a cheaper rate, but the ex.
ports of their own productions are greatly increased. This is remarkably the case in
Russia, where, it appears, that under the New Tariff, the exports of the produce of the
Russian soil and Russian industry is doubled, and, in some instances, almost trebled, in
one year. The greater part of the trade in question was formerly in British hands. We
cannot justly complain of the loss, as it is quite reasonable and natural to expect that
these powers will look to the interests of their own subjects in preference to the interests
of other countries, however friendly the relations may be which subsist betwixt them.
Considerable anxiety has existed in the public mind, for some time past, upon the ru.
mour that the trade with France was to undergo some alterations, and to be established
upon a more liberal scale by both governments. This, however, will prove a matter of
the greatest difficulty, as it involves so many interests, while, at the same time, the
French nation are extremely jealous on that point. Whatever proposals may be made
for a more liberal system, must, we are persuaded, come from the French government in
the first instance. To originate with, and to be proposed by the British government,
would be sufficient to insure the rejection of every proposal that could be made. Great
expectations have been formed, and held out to result from the opening of such a trade,
but we confess we hold a different opinion, and are convinced that we should take more
of the finer manufactures of France than France would take of our finer cotton manu,
factures in return, thereby throwing the balance of trade into the scale against us.
For some years our trade with the Mediterranean has been greatly embarrassed. The
reason of that is very obvious. Upon the return of a general peace, the French nation
resumed their usual trade in that quarter, which the nature of the tremendous contest, so
lang carried on, had almost annihilated. In many places on the shores of the Mediter.


112
Register.-Commercial Report.
[April,
ranean the manufactures of France are preferred to ours. Before the revolutionary wax
commenced, the French trade up the Mediterranean was as follows, viz. :
Exports.
Imports
To Morocco,
400,000 francs 2,000,000 france
Canaan,
400,000
2,260,000
Caramania and Satalia,
100,000
surplus
Cyprus,
104,275
976,160
Aleppo and Alexandrie,
2,500,000
surplus
Tripoli and Syria,
200,000
2,400,000
Seyde and its dependencies, 1,000,000
1,800,000
Egypt, :
2,500,000
3,000,000
making together about half a million sterling in exports, and 800,0001. in imports.
Nearly an equal amount, if not more, must have been cut off from our trade, for we
must also take into account the trade which the Italian states had with these places, and
which was lost to them during the war. Hence it is not difficult to perceive how the
markets in the Mediterranean would become glutted with our goods, and our mercantile
transactions to these places become very disadvantageous. On the other hand, a more
liberal system of commerce and intercourse with the Mahommedan states, on both sides of
the Mediterranean, is gradually extending itself, and our trade in that quarter must
continue to recover, perhaps extend itself in all these places; but it must always be
bome in mind, that the trade of France and the Italian states will extend in a similar
manner, and perhaps in a greater ratio.
The trade to the East Indies has considerably increased since it was thrown open ;
but we believe the exports have been more than what was necessary, and the imports a
losing concern. As yet that trade has done no good to those engaged in it, but as there
is every appearance of a desire for our manufactures extending in India, so there is a
prospect that the trade may at last prove greatly beneficial to the interests of this coun-
try: but the progress must be gradualmit cannot be forced. The prosperity of the co-
lonies of New Holland and Van Diemen's Land continues to increase, and will, ere
long, form an important branch of British commerce. The discovery of immense
rivers in the interior of the former, and the great probability that these communicate
with the ocean,
in the great bay in the south-west side of the continent, and by naviga-
ble estuaries, offer a grand prospect of extending colonization in the fine lands in the in-
terior of the country. The Cape of Good Hope continues to flourish, and, by degrees,
must become an important commercial colony.
The trade with South America, in all its branches, continues in an unsettled state.
Some improvement certainly has of late taken place ; but while civil war and internal com-
motions continue to agitate these countries, as is at present the case, it is evident that no
great improvement can be expected in any branch of commerce. As peace, however, is
restored, and liberal governments established, and the population increases, commerce
must greatly extend itself in those important regions of the world, and of which im
provement we will come in for our full share. The markets in Jamaica having been
greatly cleared of their superabundant stock, and the low priced goods having come into
the market, considerable sales have lately been effected for the Spanish colonies. But
the scarcity of bills has rendered the exchange so much against the merchant remitting,
that much of his profit is in this way lost, while specie has become a still worse remit
tance. If that specie is transmitted to the United States of America, and there invested
in cotton, that tends to keep up the price of that article so high, that when it reaches this
country, there is a certain loss incurred, from the great depreciation in value here. The
merchant is thus beset with difficulties, but as the demand for goods continues, and is
on the increase, so it is to be hoped that these things will gradually get to their proper
channel, and the business amply remunerate all who are engaged in it.
The situation of our sugar colonies is at this moment even more distressing than the
state of the agriculturists at home. The price of all articles of colonial produce is sunk
to a rate unprecedentedly and ruinously low, and from which state there appears to be
but a small chance of their reviving again. The cause of this is to be sought in the con-
tinuation of the Slave Trade by foreign nations, and the great extension, by this means,
of the cultivation of colonial produce in these colonies. The prices at which they raise
it are greatly below what the West India planters can possibly afford, and the immense
quantities produced serve to supply and glut almost every market, of which this country
had some time ago almost the exclusive supply. Till the Slave Trade is completely
stopped, therefore, the West India planters can expect no relief, while, if the system is
much longer continued, even the stoppage of it will render, him no service, because all
the foreign colonies will be filled with slaves sufficient to manufacture sugar for every
country which does not of itself produce that article. The united efforts of the civilized
world will, upon the present system, be found altogether inadequate to arrest the pro-


1821.]
Register Commercial Report.
113
gress of the Slave Trade with Africa. It has increased the amount, and aggravated all
its horrors.
The same causes which operated with such distressing effects upon the commercial
and agricultural interests in this country, operated in the United States of America to a
still severer degree. Hence the commerce with those States has of late been peculiarly
unproductive; but, as amongst ourselves, so amongst them, the severe operation of
these causes is gradually ceasing, commerce is, accordingly, beginning to rear her
head again, and we may anticipate a progressive improvement in all our commercial in-
tercourse with these States. From various reasons, however, it is not at all probable
that our commercial relations with that quarter of the world can ever be so advantageous
as these at previous periods have been.
Our North American colonies have felt, and are at present feeling their share of the
general commercial and agricultural misfortunes which have visited the world. The ad-
ditional duty also which, it seems, is now determined to be laid on their timber, and the
reduction of the duty upon that article imported into Great Britain from the north of
Europe will, we fear, greatly retard the improvement of these possessions, and serve to
continue the difficulties under which they at present labour, and which were arrived at
that point from which gradual melioration might fairly have been anticipated. The
prosperity of these valuable possessions is now become of the first consequence, not only
to the mother country, but also to the West India colonies. The existence of the latter,
in a great measure, depends upon the prosperity and extension of cultivation of our
North American provinces.
While the discoveries of Captain Parry, last summer, have tended to elucidate a great
geographical question, these have also tended to extend the field for the Davis' Strait
whale fishery, a branch of commerce of no mean importance to Great Britain. In the
tonthern hemisphere a wide and rich field for similar pursuits is laid open, by the exa-
mination of the coasts of New South Shetland, south-west from the Straits of Magellan.
The fisheries on that coast will certainly prove most productive, and we are happy to
learn that the enterprizing merchants of Liverpool have already eagerly and extensively
engaged in the fisheries in that quarter.
While we may (if peace is continued to the world) confidently expect a gradual im.
provement of our trade with foreign nations, yet we must not look for, or expect that it
in reach, in any of the old markets, the same beneficial extent that it once did. We
mast expect and allow all other civilized nations to come in for their share of the trade
of the world, and also expect that every nation will encourage their internal trade and ma.
dufactures. Under these circumstances it is our policy to look for new markets for our
trade new markets in countries where no competition in native skill, manufactures, and
industry is at all, or, at least, for ages, likely to come in competition with, or injure the
demand for ours. Such markets may yet be found. Through the wide extent of the
East Indian Archipelago there is a great field; but, above all, it is to Africa that we
onght to tum our attention. There is a field of vast magnitude a field which at present we
may make exclusively our own. There is no longer any room to doubt, but that in the Bights
of Benin and Biafra the great river Niger enters the Atlantic Ocean by several navigable
estuaries, and that, by means of that noble river and its tributary streams, the whole
central parts of the northern quarter of that great continent are laid readily open to the
operations of commerce. These countries are all populous, and the elements of com-
merce are most abundant, and also of the most valuable kinds. The productions of
these places are those of which we are most in want, and every thing which they require
are almost exclusively the productions of our industry and skill. Hence the advantages
of a trade with these parts becomes very evident, while planting, and extending legitimate
commerce into the bosom of Africa, is the most effectual way to benefit our West India
colonies, and the only way by which we ever can put an end either to the external Slave
Trade, or slavery in Africa. Only shew her princes and her population that we will
give, and that they can obtain more for the productions of their soil, and the labour of
their slaves, in Africa, than for the slave himself, and the work is done. The Slave
Trade would be unheard of, and trouble us no more. All this is in our power. A set-
tement on the Island of Fernando Po, and inland on the united stream of the Niger,
would place the whole within the grasp and under the controul of Great Britain.
The following are the principal articles imported into Great Britain during the last
Fear in
SUGAR-BRITISH PLANTATION.
264,900 imported, 1820
83,200 stock last year
Ahds.
348,100
276,900 for home use and export
71,200 stock on hand, 1st January, 1821.


114
Register.-Commercial Report,
[April,
FOREIGN SUGARS IMPORTED, 1820."
18,300 boxes Havannah
6,140 chests Brazils
181,200 bags East Indies
800 packages, other parts.
The importations of foreign sugars, particularly from the East Indies and Havan-
nah, have considerably increased. The export of sugar from Great Britain to the Con.
intent of Europe has greatly decreased. In 1818 the value of refined sugar exported was
2,403,9812., in 1819, 2,461,706., and, on the year ending the 5th January, 1820,
1,527,6221., and the exports for the year ending the 5th January, 1821 is still less, ow,
ing to these places receiving their supplies direct from foreign colonies.
RUM.
61,900 casks imported, 1820,
being an increase of rather more than 4000 puncheons.
570,568 bags imported in 1820,
making an increase of 21,848 bags. The comsumpt last year was 470,000 bags, being
at the rate of 9,040 per week. T'he consumption in 1815 was only at the rate of 6,700
per week.
COFFEE.
45,600 casks. 121,110 barrels and bags,
or 22,500 tons. There was taken for home use 3,000 tons, and for exportation 20,200
tons.
COCOA.
6,022 barrels and bags imported in 1820,
of which there have been taken for home use 30, and for export 5,860 barrels and b gs.
COTTON
TOBACCO.
Hhds.
.
9,626 imported into Liverpool
12,451 ditto into London
913 and 502 bales into Glasgow
of which there were taken out of bond, for home use, at London and Liverpool, viz..
London, 4,605 hhds. ; at Liverpool, 4,872 hhds. ; and at Glasgow and Leith,
1,351,075 lbs. ; and from the two former, for export, 9,552 hhds.
GRAIN, 1820.
Imported into London, 636,517 yrs, wheat, 253,459 do. barley, 193,966 do, malt,
1,150,303 do. oats, 1,063 do. rye, 74,633 do. beans, 50,223 do. pease, 6,574 do. tares,
87,054 do. linseed, 7,410 do. rapeseed, 6,691 do. brank, 6,471 do. mustard, 11,919 do.
of various seeds, 406,349 sacks, and 42,504 barrels flour.
For the year ending the 5th July 1819, there was taken out of bond for England,
Galls.
Duties.
Brandy and Geneva,
948,548 £807,339 13 0
Rum,
3,053,901 1,584,211 7 11
French Wines,
264,226
82,330 14 7
Al other Wines (Foreign)
4,637,348
966,114 6 5
And 1,560 tuns Cape Wine.
WOOL.
Imported, in 1819, 16,190,343 lbs.
Cloth milled, do. 11,813,971 yds.
LINEN MANUFACTURES.
Exported, in 1820, from the United Kingdom of Irish and Scotch linens,
6,138,185 yds. Irish linens
20,590,521 do. British do. of all sorts
965,236 do. British sail-cloth.
Scotch and Irish linens exported from Ireland, -
9,930 yds. Canvas
117,839 do. Coloured
37,467,696 do. Plain white.
On the 30th September, 1819, the shipping registered of the United Kingdom, and
the plantations was 25,482 vessels, 2,666,896 tons, and navigated by 174,373 men.
Exports and imports of Great Britain and Ireland.
Year ending 5th January, 1820,—imports,
£30,775,084 3 1
making a decrease of 6,100,0001.
Year ending 5th January, 1820,-exports.
Produce and manufactures of United Kingdom, £33,481,836 9 5
Foreign and colonial, .
9,905,184 11 10
Official value. Total £43,387,021 13
.
.


1821.]
Register-Commercial Report.
115
.
.
0
.
making a decrease of 10,172,000. This is exclusive of the trade between Great Bri.
tain and Ireland. The declared value of exports stands as under, viz. :-
Brass and copper manufactures,
£669,403
Cotton manufactures,
12,338,833
Cotton, twist, and yarn,
2,707,612
Glass and earthen-ware,
1,027,395
Hardware and cutlery,
1,316,539
Iron and steel, wrought and unwrought, 1,155,173
Linen manufactures,
1,403,005
Silk manufactures,
464,370
Sugar, British, refined,
1,527,622
Woollen Goods,
6,899,694
All other articles,
8,374,860
Total declared value,
£37,939,506
From which it appears that there is a falling in the cotton goods of 4,250,0001., and in
woollen goods, 2,100,000.., and British refined sugar of 1,000,0001., from the preceding
Fear.
TRADE OF IRELAND.
Year ending 5th January, 1820,-imports,
6,395,972 17 58
Produce and manufactures United Kingdom--exports, £5,708,582 15 7
Foreign and colonial,
61,882 12 23
Total official value, £5,770,465 7 104
exclusive of trade with Great Britain.
Imports into Ireland, 1,093,2471. 8s. 6d.—Exports, 558,2611. 10s. 9d., native pro-
duce; and 25,9481. 11s. 101d. colonial and foreign.-Total, 584,2106. 28. 74d.
Sundries imported into Great Britain, 1820,-
Ashes, barrels,
34,227 Oil, seal, casks,
5,339
Barilla, tons,
8,660 Olive oil, casks,
3,320
Brimstone, tons
3,434 Palun oil, casks,
2,304
Flax, tons,
10,972 Pepper, packages,
6,477
Ginger, packages,
67,360 Pimento, barrels and bags, 13,363
Hemp, tons,
16,557 Quercet. bark, casks,
1,681
Hides, ox and cow,
353,664 Rice, tons,
10,257
Indigo, seroons and chests. 18,297 Saltpetre,
141,441
Lime and Lemon juice, gallons, 645 Sheep's wool, packages, 37,725
Madder, casks,
5,297 Shumac, bags, .
46,161
Madder roots, bales,
7,638 Seed, flax, quarters,
126,958
Mahogany, logs,
14,192 Tallow, tons,
35,663
Oak bark, tons,
11,134 Tar, barrels,
106,095
011, whale, tuns, .
11,628 Turpentine, casks,
70,529
Ditto, casks,
1,430 Valonia, tons,
1,584
Oil, cod and dog-fish, casks, 1,430
Timber imported, 1820.
North of Europe,
180,700 feet
British North America, 3,000,000 do.
.
.
.
0
.
.
.
.
.
Total,
3,180,700
Weekly Price of Stocks, from 1st to 220 March, 1821.
Ist.
8th, 15th.
22d.
1721
OOR
694
226
54
73
739 21 72]
83
92
106% 6 106
70
1062
Bank stock,
3 per cent. reduced,
3 per cent. consols,
34 per cent. consols,
4 per cent. consols,
5 per cent. navy ann...concora...
Imperial 3 per cent. ann.
India stock,
bonds.com
Exchequer bills,
Consols per acc.
Long Annuities..
French 5 per cents.
$ 1104
703
CAR
229] 30
44 42 pr.
45 pr.
48 50 pr.
3 5 pr.
30 pr.
5 3 pr.
son -
3 pr.
733 24 733
733
195
5 2 dis.
693 704
19
!!
1


116
Register...Commercial Report.
[April,
Course of Exchange, April 8.-Amsterdam, 12: 14. C. F. Ditto at sight, 12:11.
Rotterdam, 12: 15. Antwerp, 12:11. Hamburgh, 38: 7. Altona, 38 : 8. Paris, 3
d. sight, 25 : 80. Ditto 26 : 15. Bourdeaux, 26 : 15. Frankfort on the Maine, 1564.
Petersburgh, 91:3 U. Vienna, 10:20 Ef. fo. Trieste, 10 : 20 Ef. flo. Madrid, 36.
Cadiz, 35%. Bilboa, 354 Barcelona, 35. Seville, 354. Gibraltar, 303. Leghorn,
464 Genoa, 431. Venice, 27: 60. Malta, 45. Naples, 38%. Palermo, 115. Lis-
bon, 49% Oporto, 494. Rio Janeiro, 49. Bahia, 55. Dublin, 8 per cent.
Cork, 8 per cent.
Prices of Gold and Silver, per 02.- Foreign gold, in bars, £3 : 17 : 1044. New
Dollars, 49 10d. Silver in bars, stand. 4s. 11d.
houten 282 .; :
EDINBURGH.- APRIL 1L.
Wheat.
Barley.
Oats. Pease & Beans.
Isto.....335. Od. 1st, .....228. Od. 1st....... 20s. Od. 1st,......178. Od.
2d, ......31s. Od. | 2d, ...... 20s. Od. 2d, ......17s. Od. 2d,.....]6s. 60.
3d, ......28s. Od. 3d, ...... 18s. Od. | 3d,...... 14s. Od. | 3d,...... 15s. Od.
Average of Wheat, £1 : 10: 10 6-2ths., per boll.
Tuesday, March 7.
Beef (17) oz. per lb.) Os. 5d. to Os. 8d. | Quartern Loaf. 08. 9d. to Os. Our
Mutton
Os. 6d. to Os. 8d.
Os. 8d. to
Os. Od
Lamb, per quarter . 6s. Od. to 8s. Od. Fresh Butter, per ſb. ls. 4d. to Is. 6dº
Veal
Os. 6d. to s. Od. Salt ditto, per stone 188 Od. to 21s. Od
Pork
Os. 6d.' to Os. 8d. Ditto, per lb.
ls. 2d. to 1s. 4d
Tallow, per stone
8s. 6d. to 9s. Od. Eggs, per dozen 08. 7d. to 0s. Od
HADDINGTON.-APRIL 6.
Wheat.
Barley.
Oats.
Pease.
Beans.
1st, .....3ls. 6d. 1st, .....21s. Od. 1st, .....18s. Od. 1st, .....)58. 6d. 1st, ..... 16s. Od.
2d......30s. 6d. ( 2d......]8s. Od. 2d ....... 16s. Od. ( 2d,... ..13s. Od. | 2da.......148. Od.
3d,......285. 6d. | 3d...... 16. Od. | 3d,......14s. Od. 3d,...... 125. Od. | 3d,...... 12s. Od.
Average, £I : 10s. 2d. 8-12ths.
dverage Prices of Corn in England and Wales, from the Returns received in the Week
ended 31st March.
Wheat, 54s. 80.-Rye, 38s. Id.-Barley, 24s. Id.-Oats, 189. 30.-Beans, 31s. 8d.-Pease, 32s. 104.
Beer or Big, Os. Od. Oatmeal, 19s 3d.
.
S.
3.
per 70 lb
.
solo ooo
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
London, Corn Exchange, April 2.
Liverpool, April 5.
Wheat, $. do 8. d. Amer.p.196 lb. d.
Sweet, U.S. 21 0 to 22
Wheat, red, new 36 to 46 Hog pease . 27 to 28 Eng. Old 7 6 to 8 3 Do. in bond 21 Oto -
Fine ditto • 48 to 54 Maple 28 to 30 Foreign . 1 4 to 8 3 Sour do. . 27 0 to 28
Superfine ditto 55 to 57 White
30 to 40|Scotch .. 7 6 to 8 0 Oatmeal, per 240 lb.
Ditto, old -to - Ditto, boilers. 36 to 38|| Waterford 7 5 to 7 6 English 24 0.to 25 0
White, new 40 to 45 New ditto, - to - Limerick to
Scotch ..
29 0 to 23 0
Vine ditto. 52 to 56 SmallBeans, new30 to 53 Drogheda 7 0 to 7 3 Irish ... 19 O to 29 0
Superfine ditto 58 to 62 Ditto, old 40 to 41 Dublin 6 9 to 7 0 Bran, p. 24 Ib. 1 1 to 1 2
Ditto, old - to - Tick, new . 23 to 27|Irish Old .7 3 to 7 G
Foreign, new
Butter, Beef, &c.
- to - Ditto, old . 36 to 38 Bonded ..4 0 to 5 6
Rye
28 to 32 Foreign .-to-Barley, per 60 lbs. Butter,p.cwt. s. d. 3. d.
Fine ditto,
to Feed oats.
14 to 18 Eng.
1. 3 9 to 4 0 Belfast, new 97 0 to 9
Barley
22 to 23 Fine.
19 to 20 Scotch . . 5 2 to 3 6 Newry 96 0 to 98 8
Fine, new
24 to 25 Poland ditto. 16 to 19 Irish. .. 2 10 to 3. 1 Waterford .
- to
Superfine 26 to 97 Fine . . 20 to 22 Oats, per 15 lb.
Cork,pic. 20,91 O to
Malt.
• 12 to 52 Potatoe ditto . 20 to 22 Eng. pota. 2 5 to 2 7 3d dry 87 0 to 88 O
Fine •
54 to 58 Fine .
23 to 25 Irish do. . 2 6 to 2 7 Beef, p. tierce
Scotch do. 2 6 to 2 7-Mess 112 6 to 117 6
Malt per b.
Per brl. 74 0 to 80 O
Seeds, gc. April 2.
Fine ..7 6 to 8 0 Pork, p. brl.
Beans, per qr.
-Mess
64 O to 65 0
8. d.
8. English. 30 0 to 38 0 Middl. G0 0 to 61 0
Must. Brown, 8 to 10 0 Hempseed . . 54 to 58 Irish .. 30 0 to 32 0 Bacon, p. cwt.
-White ... 6 to 8 0 Linseed, crush. 38 to 10 Rapeseed, 1. £32 to 33 Short mids. 48 0 to 50 0
Tares, new, . 5 to 6 0 New, for Seed 56 to 60 Pease,grey 26 0 to 28 o Sides. 46 0 to
Turnips, bsh. 16 to 20 0 Ryegrass, 18 to 451-White : 40 0 to 18 Hams, dry, 56 0 to 58 O
-Red & green17 to 20 o Clover, red cwt. 28 to 70 Flour, English,
Green 55 0 to 57 0
-Yellow,new36 to 10 01-White ... 54 to 106 p.2401b.fine36 o to 38 0 Lard,rd.p.c.58 0 to
Caraway, ewt. 76 to 84 o Coriander .. 12 to 16 Irish.. 34 0 to 36 6 Tongue, per firk.
Canary, qr.
46 to 48 o Trefoil ....7 to 281
30 O to
Rape Seed, per last, . £36 to £38.
.
.


1821.]
117
Register.Commercial Report.
PRICES CURRENT, April 7–London, 6.
GLASGOW.
57
62
62
70
LIVERPOOL
57
59
60
69
74
83
LONDON.
51
60
61
66
71
80
92
110
24
24 6
23
0
116
120
94
120
133
124
146
126
115
128
95
120
129
113
71
126
134
118
128
132
114
8
8
2s 3d
3s 1d
2s 2d
9s 4d
2s 2d 38
30 3 9
17 1 8
£50
45
£60
52
ion:
10
7 15
28
40
6s 10d 78 Od
6 10 70
SUGAR, Musc.
LEITH.
B. P. Dry Brown, · cwt. 60 to 65
Mid. good, and fine míd. 76
86
Fine and very fine,
84
96
Refined Doub. Loaves,
130
145
Powder ditto,
106
110
Single ditto,
102
106
Small Lumps,
94
98
Large ditto,
91
91
Chished Lumps,
56
MOLASSES, British, cwt.
26
COFFEE, Jamaica,. cwt.
Ord. good, and fine ord.
118 126
Mid good, and fine mid. 126 138
Duteh Triage and very ord.
Ord good, and fine ord.
120 135
Mid, good, and fine mid. 155 140
St Domingo,
122 126
Pimento (in Bond,j ::: 81 81
SPIRITS,
Jan. Rum, 16 O. P. gall. 2s 10d 3s Od
Brandy,
0
Genera,
2 2
Grain Whisky,
6 8 7 0
WINES,
Claret, 1st Growths, hhd. 60
64
Portugal Red, pipe.
35
46
Spanish White, butt. 34
55
Teneriffe,
pipe.
30
32
Madeira,
55
65
LOGWOOD, Jam.
£7 7
Honduras,
8
Campeachy,
FUSTIC, Jamaica,
8
Cuba,
9
11
INDIGO, Caraccas fine, lb. 9s 6d 11s 6d
TIMBER, Amer. Pine, foot. 1 6 18
Ditto Oak,
3 0 3
Christiansand (dut. paid.)
Honduras Mahogany,
1 4 1 8
St Domingo, ditto,
TAR, American,
Archangel,
18
PITCH, Foreign, cwt.
TALLOW, Rus. Yel. Cand.
Home melted,
53
HEMP, Riga Rhinc, ton.
45
Petersburgh, Clean,
40
FLAX,
Riga Thies. & Druj. Rak. 57
Dutch,
50
90
Irish,
43
48
NATS, Archangel, 100.
75
80
BRISTLES,
Petersburgh Pirsts, ewt. 13 10 14
ASHES, Peters. Pearl, 37
38
Montreal, ditto,
41
46
Pot,
37
38
OIL, Whale,
tun. £22 10
Cod.
818 (p, brl.)
TOBACCO, Virgin, fine, Ib. 63
Middling,
Inferior,
COTTONS, Bowed Georg.
Sea Island, fine,
Good,
Middling,
Demerara and Berbice,
West India,
Pernambuco,
Maranham,
8 5
8 10
95
7 0
56111111 SITIIllIllllullooor!|--III ITIT ***0----0--
6 10
8 5
7 6
8 0
8 15
6 6
9 5
80
8 10
8 6
0-00---oooo118811 1111 111811--111c09cocow1llll lll 585E IT11899
£7 0 £8 0
Is 3d ls 6d
10 0 10 6
90
1111111010111** 111111111 1105116000vnom
REF 18.1.18 EUR 1 9*11*3*
1111119901132 1571348******jina
2
1 0
3
18
1
1
brl.
16 0
16 6
8 6
10
10 6
19
49
£42
58 10
£58
45
59
58
£3 15
4 0
37
38
42
36
23
21
43
37
31
0 5d
0 31
03
09
1 2
10
69
0 4
0
0 103
1 9
IIIllllluna
42
0 97 11+
1 8 2
0
16) 1 8
1 4 1 6
1 0 1 2
0 10 0 11
1 1 1 2
1 0 1 1
8
5
0 2 0 3
0 9 0 10
1 6
8
1 3 5
1 3 5
0 11 1 2
09
103 1 2
00 1 1
OOOOO
0 10
1 1
0 103
1 0
011
1 2
10
ALPHABETICAL List of ENGLISH BANKRUPTCIES, announced between the 20th
of February and the 20th of March, 1821, extracted from the London Gazette.
Aeason, J. Valentine Farm, Ridge, Herefordshire, Astley, M. Goswell-street, china-warehouseman.
cor-dealer.
Bainbridge, W. Evenwood, Durham, horse-dealer.
Alport, T. R. Birmingham, leather-dresser. Barker, J. Great, Titchfield-street, upholsterer.
Anderson, J. jun. Whitby, merchant.
Barker, T. Burton in Lonsdale, Yorkshire, twine-
Amall, G. Leamington, wine merchant.
manufacturer.
Ashford, J. and EºL. Ireland, Birmingham, fac Benson, J. R. Artillery-place, merchant.
Billinge, J. Bristol, grocer.
Vol. IX.
P
tors.


118
Register.-Commercial Report.
[April,
Bird, T. St Martin court, Leicester-fields, habere Jones, W. Handsworth, Stafford, farmer.
dasher.
Jordan, W. Sunbury, vietualler.
Birks, S. W. Thorne, Yorkshire, mercer.
Ker, T. late of the Strand, boot-maker.
Blundell, W. Liverpool, hardwareman.
Lance, B. Capel-court, stock-broker.
Bradbury, G. Wellington, malster.
Lawton, J. Delph, Yorkshire, inn-keeper.
Brown, J. Bridgewater, tailor.
Lea, W. and J. F. Paternoster-row, tibbon and
Burbery, R. Coventry, silk-manufacturer.
silk-manufacturer.
Burton, Wolverhampton, grocer.
Lowe, G. Manchester, cotton-dealer.
Candy. R. Weson-town, Somersetshire, farmer. Macrae, A. Devonshire-street, jeweller.
Clively, E. Woolwich, draper.
Mace, S. Norwich, grocer.
Coates, G. New Bond-street, druggist.
Mallorie, W. Leeds, paste-board manufacturer.
Cooper, J. Eyain, Derby, grocer,
Marshall, P. Scarborough, solieitor.
Croxford, C. jun. Iver, Buckinghamshire, collar Matson, R. Barfrestone, Kent, miller.
maker.
Monsey, T. Burgh, Norfolk, farmer.
Culshaw, W. Wrighington, Lancaster, dealer. Morgan, J. late of Bedford, draper.
Cummins, Gloucester, mercer.
Needs, E. Bristol, shop-keeper.
Danson, J. Millom, Cumberland, dealer.
Newman, J. M. Broomsgrove, dealer in wool.
Dark, H. Barth, woollen-draper..
Nicolls, W. A. A. Stephen-street, Tottenham-
Davies, J. Liverpool, merchant.
court-road.
Deakin, F. Upton-upon Severn, grocer.
Noad, S. Birchin-lane, bill broker.
Dixon, J. Bishopthorp, Yorkshire, coal-merchant. Palmer, T. Gutter-lane, Cheapside, silk manufac-
Downes, S. Cranbourne-street, Leicester-square, turer.
• haberdasher.
Partridge, H. M. Newport, Monmouthshire, iron-
Drayton Rayner, J. Bow, mast-maker.
monger.
Dudman, J. Brighton, common carrier.
Pitt, D. Fenchchurch-street, hosier.
Durtnall, J. Dover, ironmonger.
Porter, J. Leading Roothing, Essex, farmer.
Eggleston, B. Great Driffield," York, plumber. Powell, T. Bath, cloth-factor.
Farrell, J. Prospect-place, Newington-causeway, Priddon, E. late of Horncastle, miller.
merchant.
Richards, J. and W. Badham, Broomyard, Here.
Ferno, G. jun. Stockport, grocer.
ford, dealers in corn.
Field, J. and T. Muscovy-court, Trinity-square, Rogers, J. and C. Plymouth, coach-makers.
four-factor
Rose, J. Bath, grocer.
Fiseot, W. Bristol, baker.
Sarvis, A. Slone-street, upholsterer.
Fletcher, J. and Ø. Barton-upon-Irwell, cotton Scofield, E. West Bergholt, Essex, publican.
spinners.
Sedgewick, London, warehouseman.
Fox, E. L. jun. Idol-lane, Tower-street, broker. Sheriffe, J. Fairnham, grocer.
Freeland, W. Bedhampton, Southampton, miller. Sheppard, W. Ayr-street-hill, baker.
French, J. Coventry and Edinburgh, ribbon me, Skaiſ, H. Whitby, draper.
nufacturer.
Smith, P. P. and w. Middleton, Lancashire, mus-
Frost, L. Liverpool, timber-merchant.
lin manufacturers.
Fry, G. Tunbridge-wells, lime-burner.
Smith, T. Caponfield, Staffordshire, iron-master.
Gittins, R. Tewkesbury, corn-faetor.
Sprigens, J. Chesham, draper.
Gough, R. Liverpool, snuff manufacturer, Thrapston, B. T. Northamptonshire, draper.
Green, J. Lower East Smithfield, baker,
Troughton, B. jun. Coventry, silkman.
Guy, J. Blackfriars-road, dealer.
Troughton, J. J. and B. and A. Newcomb, Co-
Harrison, J. Manchester, cotton-spinner.
ventry, bankers,
Harrison, J. Sandwich, wool-stapler.
Turner, J. Rotherham, engineer.
Heaton, J. Scholes, York, nail-manufacturer. Warbrick, H. Liverpool, merchent.
Hebdin, A. 0. Parliament-street, woollen-cloth Ward, T. Coventry, silk munufacturer.
merchant.
Whaley, J. King's
Lynn, Norfolk, gunsmith.
Hobbs, H. Chichester, farmer.
Wilby, D. late of Dewsbury, clothier.
Hollis, J. Goswell-street-road, stone-mason. Wilkinson, J. and W. B. Smith Leeds, York, stuff
Hurney, R. Stafford-street, Bond-street, picture merchant.
dealer.
Wilson, G. Liverpool, linen-draper.
Jackson, T. Bishop's Offey, Stafford, malster. Wilson, J. Macclesfield, bookseller.
James, W. jun. Abergavenny, cabinet-maker. Windcatt, T. and W. Tavistock, fellmonger.
Johnson, G. R. Chiswell-street, oilman,
Wood, W. Chester, cheese-dealer,
ALPHABETICAL LIST of SCOTCI BANKRUPTCIES, announced between the 1st March
and 2d April, 1821, extracted from the Edinburgh Gazette.
Ainslic, Robert, lately of Edingham, underwriter, Reid, Francis, and Sons, watchmakers, Glasgow.
residing in Edinburgh, on his own application, Russel, John, grocer, Hamilton.
with concurrence of Mr Claud Russel, account. Walker, Alexander, merchant and insurance-bro-
ant, Edinburgh, his disponee, under a private ker, Aberdeen.
trust, for purpose of winding up said trust.
Braid, Robert, jun. tallow-chandler, Paisley,
DIVIDENDS.
Brooks and Blaikie, merchants and commission Balfour, John, merchant, Kirkaldy; a dividend of
agents, Grangemouth, and at Glasgow, under 3s. per pound, 17th April.
the firm of William Blaikie and Co.
Burn and Pringle, timber merchants, Fishertow,
Brown, Archibald, grocer, Leith.
a dividend 2d April.
Fraser, Alexander, manufacturer, Inverness. Bute, William, wright and builder, Glasgow; a
Duguid, William, jun. merchant, Aberdeen.
final dividend 11th May.
Douglas, Alexander, and Co. grocers, Edinburgh. Caldwell, David, late vintner, Glasgow; a first
Greatbatch, John, sometime victualler and inn and final dividend, 20 April.
keeper, Roslin Inn, now stoneware merchant, Clark, Arthur Hill, innkeper, Portpatrick ; a di.
Paisley.
vidend, 13th April.
Harthill, James, merchant Aberdeen.
Fife, James, joiner and cabinet-maker, Leith; a
Johnston, Robert and John, cattle-dealers, Stew. dividend.
artry of Birkcudbright.
Johnstone, John, manufacturer, Newabbey; a di-
Johnston, John, in Troquhain, a partner of the vidend of 7s. Ed. 28th April.
firm of Robert and John Johnston, cattle-deal Lawson, George, currier, Edinburgh; a dividend
ers, Stewartry of Kirkcudbright.
on 21st March.
Kirkwood, David, cattle-dealers, Lockridge Hills, M'Knight, Samuel, jun. merchant, Kirkcudbright;
parish of Dunlop.
a second dividend, 31st March.
Mackay, John, merchant, Thurso.
Pollock, Alexander and John, cotton yarn mer-
M.Nair, Alexander, merchant, Dingwal).
chants, Paisley; a dividend, 13th April.
Rae, James, cattle-dealer and grain merchant Had Richardson, William and James, late wool mer-
dington.
chants and manufacturers, Hawick; a dividendo
Rattray, James, and David, manufacturers, Ban. 3d May.
nockburn.
1


1821.]
Register.-Meteorological Report.
119
METEOROLOGICAL TABLE, extracted from the Register kept at Edinburgh, in the
Observatory, Calton-hill.
N.B.-The Observations are made twice every day, at nine o'clock, forenoon, and four o'clock, after.
noonThe second Observation in the afternoon, in the first column, is taken by the Register
Thermometer.
Attach.
Ther. Barom. Ther. Wind.
Attach.
Ther. Barom. Ther. Wind.
Mar. 1{
M.92 129.14 M.33 S.E. Frost with
Mar. 17
M.34 29.519 M.48 Cble.
A. 32 .319 A, 34 ) Mod. Snow.
A.44 ,103 A. 46
Fair.
High.
M.25 448 M.37 S.E.
M.29
Foggy
.798 M.45 N.W. Showers of
18
A.37 .527A. 38 Mod.
A. 39 28.783 A. 10 High. hail.
M.50
3{
.437 M.39 US.E.
Rain.
M.24 .675 M.58 N.W.
19
A. 40 .383 A. 40 Mod.
A. 35 .991 A. 40 ) High.
Fair.
M.50 280/M.10 ) S.E. Dull with
M.99
.950 M.41N. Frost mom.
20
A. 40 515 A. 38 Mod. Ishowers.
A. 41 29.144 A. 11 ) High. showers hail.
M.29 .657 M.57 Cble. Dull, but
M.28 .366 M.11N.
5
21
Frost morn.
A. 35 .657 A. 36 ) Mod. fair.
A. 40 .690 A. 40 ) High. dull day.
M.30 .358 M.37 Cble.
Ditto.
M.25 .766 M.41 N.
22
Showers of
A. 36
.237 A. 41 S Mod.
A. 36
.675 A. 40 ) Mod. hail.
7.52 .146 M.13 W. Rain. morn.
M.22
23
.454 M.39 UW. Frost. morn.
A. 12 28.934 A. 44 ) Mod. fair day.
A. 35 28.975 A, 12 ) High. dull day.
M.327 .902 M.44Cble.
8
Fair.
.629 M.45 s.W. Showers of
M.35)
24
A. 44
.948 A. 45 ) Mod.
A. 45 .995 A. 46 S Brisk. snow.
M.35 29.175 M.46 Cble. Fair foren.
M.29 .999 M.46 W.
25
Frost morn.
A. 44 28.885 A. 45 ) High. rain aftern.
A. 44 .999 A. 13 | Mod. fair day.
M.37
.885 M.47 Cble. Showery.
M.29 29.242 M.43Cble. Frost morn.
A. 47
26
.999 A. 46 ) Mod.
A. 38
.24: A. 41 ) Mod. rainy day.
M.34229.292 M.45 N.W.
Ditto.
M.28 28.975 M.42Cble. Frost morn.
27
.446 A. 45 | Mod.
A. 38
.603 A. 41 ) Mod. fair day.
M.99 .431 M.431 W.
Rain morn.
M.33
28
.944 M.43 Cble.
A. 46 .506 A. 46 | Mod. fair day.
A. 40 .810 A. 12 S Mod.
Ditto.
13
M.
.486 M.46 W. Dull, with
29
M.28 .810 M.43 | SW
A. 38 .591 A, 44 ) Mod. showcra.
A. 40 .905 A. 45 S Mod.
Ditto.
M.28 .810 M,121 W. Frost morn.
M.30 29.130 M.42 N.W.
30
UA. 40 .929 A. 45 ) Mod. air day.
A. 39 28.762 A. 42 / High,
Ditto.
.945 M.441 W.
Ditto.
M.31 .555 M.47N.W. Showers of
31
A. 42 .975 A. 45 ) High.
A. 44 .973 A. 42 ) High. hail.
.803 M.46 N.W.
A. 45 :735 A. 16 } |High: Fa
Fair.
Average of Rain, 2.460 inches.
102
11{
12
15 M.99
16/M.30
APPOINTMENTS, PROMOTIONS, &c.
Bretet Capt. H. Light, R. Art. to be Major in 17 Ens. Nagel, Lieut. vice Bernet, dead
the Army
12th Aug. 1819
10th July, 1820.
R. X. Gds. Vet. Surg. J. Siddal, from b. p.Vet. Surg.
J. D. O'Brien, Ens. 15th Mar. 1821.
vice J. Siddal, dead. 15th Feb. 1821
22 Surg. Black, from h. p. Staff Surg. vice
11 Dr. Cornet Ahmuty, from 21 Dr. Cornet
Bolton, cancelled
.25th Feb.
vice Mallet, h. p.21 Dr. 7th Aug. 1820 24 Gent. Cadet R. Bennet, from R. Milit.
As. Surg. Sandham, from 53 F. Surg.
Coll. Ens.vice Schoof, prom. 15th Mar.
vice O'Meally, dead 28th July
33 G. Pigott, Ens. vice Patton, 46 F. Ist do.
17 Lieut. Fisk, Adjuta vice Smith, dead. 34 Gent. Cadet R. Airey, from R. Mil. Coll.
21st June
Ens. vice Alex. Adam, res. 15th do.
Gren. Gds. Ens and Lieut. Fludyer, Lt. and Capt.
35 Ens, O'Hara, from h. p. 3 F. Ens. vice
by purch. vice Trelawny, ret. do.
Wilmot, 2 F.
8th do.
Rowley, from h. p. Ens.
42 Lt. Wardell, from h. p. 24 Dr. Paym.
and Lieut.
do.
vice Aitkin, h. p.
7th Feb.
As. Surg. Johnson, from h. p. As. Surg.
15 - Urquhart, Ens. vice Wetherall, 69 F.
vice Gibson, prom.
15th Feb.
13th Mar.
Cold. Gds. A. R. Wellesley, Page of Honour to the 46 Ens. Stuart, Lieut. vice Smith, dead
King, Ens. and Lt. vice Griffiths, dead.
25th Feb. 1820.
25th Jan.
J. Stuart, Ensign,
22d Jan.
3 F. G. Ens. and Lt. Blane, Lt. and Capt. by
Capt. Wallis, Major by purchase, vice
purch. vice Tuffnel, ret. 15th Mar.
Mackenzie, ret. 1st Mar. 1821.
H. Bowden, Ens. and Lt. do. do.
Lieut. Dawe, Capt.
do.
do.
1 F. Lieut. Everett, from h. p. R. Afr. C.
Ens. Patton, from 33 F. Lt. by purch,
Lieut. vice Glen, eancelled, 15th Feb.
do,
Ens. Wilmot, from 35 F. Ens. vice 53 Lieut. Greene, Capt. vice Giles, prom.
Delaney, h. p. 3 F.
8th Mar.
Ist Mar. 1820,
8 Capt. Hay, from 81 F. Capt. vice de
Ens. Carpenter, Lieut.
do.
Havilland, 55 F.
do.
Lieut. Kelly, from h. p. 104 F. Lieut.
Lieut. Vans Machen, Capt. by purch.
vice Prideaux, 11 F. 15th Mar. 1821,
vice Moyle ret.
15th do.
E. H. Dodd, Ens. vice Carpenter, prom.
Ens. T. R. Thompson. Lt. do. do.
do.
T. J. Neill. Ens. by purch.
do.
As. Surg. M'Lean, from h. p. As. Surg.
11 Lieut. Prideaux, froin 53 F. Lieut. vice
vice Sandham, 11 Dr. 29th July 1820.
Kerr, h. p. 104 F.
do.
65 Bt. Major de Havilland, from 8 F. Capt.
13 - Clayton, Ens. vice M'Donald,
vice Morris, h. p. 14 É. 8th Mar. 1821.
superseded
do,
61 Lieut. Hall, from h. p. 79 F. Lieut. vice
Lieut. Bower, from 34 F. vice Way,
Patience, cancelled,
15th do.
dead
1st Mar. 1819.


120
Appointments, Promotions, fc.
[April,
65 S.H.Widdrington, Ens.vice Donithrone, Assist. Surg. Alexander, from 2 Dr. with Assist.
cancelled,
do. Surg. Stewart, h. p. 28 F.
67 Lieut. Rowan, Capt. vice Gray, dead,
Strachan, from 92 F. with As. Surg.
9th June, 1820. Lenon, h. p. 3 W. Í. R.
B. Gormley, (late Serj. Maj.) Q. Mast.
vice Hennessey, dead, 22d Feb. 1821. Resignations and Retirements.
69 Ens. Boultbee, Lieut. 20th April, 1820. Major Mackenzie, 46 F.
Wetherall, from 45 F. Ens. vice Capt. Hamilton, 1 Ceylon Reg.
Boultbee,
14th Mar. 1821. Trelawney, Gren. Gds.
81 Capt. White, from h. p. 14 F. vice Hay, Tuffnel, 3 F. G.
8 F.
8th do.
Moyle, 8 F.
82 T. Byre, Ens. vice Lord F. Montagu, Christie, 88 F.
1 Ceylon Reg.
15th do. Ensign Alexander Adam, 34 F.
88 Lieut. Hon. C. Napier, Capt. by purch.
vice Christie, ret.
22d Feb.
Removed from the Service.
Ens. Gibson, Lieut.
do do.
Lieut. Machell, 18 Hussars.
Gent. Cadet W. Codriggton, from R.
Mil, Coll. Ens. by purch.
do.
Superseded.
92 Wm. Aimsinck, Ens. vice A. Aimsinck,
Ensign P. E. M'Donell, 13 F.
dead
Ist Mar.
1 Ceyl. R. Lieut. Daly, Capt. by purchase, vice
Appointments Cancelled.
Hamilton, ret.
Sth do.
Lieut. Glen, i F.
Lord F. Montagu, from 82 F. Lt. do.
Patience, 61 F.
Miscellaneous.
Ensign Donithorne, 65 P.
Surg. Bolton, 22 F.
Capt. T. St. G. Lister, 11 F. Fort Major and Adjut. Assist. Surg. Mouat, 87 F.
at Jersey, vice Miller, dead 8th Feb. 1821.
Lieut. J. Chadwick, assisting in the Riding School
Deaths.
of the Army, to have the Rank and pay of Capt.
Lieut. Gen. Rochfort, R. Inv. Art. Woolwich,
of Cavalry
22d do.
24th Feb. 1821.
Capt. W. Goddard, Barrack Mast. at Nova Scotia,
Major Gen. R. Marriott, late of 24 F. Paris,
vice Lynn, res.
22d Jan.
9th Mar. 1821.
Rev. D. Evans, Chaplain to the Forces.
Colonel Robertson, h. p. Insp. Field Of. Rec. Dist.
Major Thistlethwaite, 2 F. Berbice, 220 Dec. 1820.
Exchanges.
Clarke, 5 F. Nevis, Antigua, 4th Jan. 1821.
Lleut. Col. Napier, 3 F. G, with Lieut. Col. Sir
Cowper, R. Art. London, 10th Feb.
G. H. Berkeley, 44 F.
Fenton, h. p. 58 F. Kingsale, 5th Aug. 1820.
Bt. Lieut. Col. Hay, from 18 Dr. rec. diff. between Hicks, h. p. 99 F. formerly of 37 F. London,
full pay Cav. and full pay Inf. with Major Synge, Harrison, late of 60 F.
h. p. 25 Dr.
Capt. Ackland, h. p. 2 F. Tenby, 10th Dec. 1820.
Major Bloomfield, from 16 F. with Bt. Lieut. Col.
De Glutz, h. P. Roll's Reg. 14th Jan. 1821.
Hook, 19 F.
Lieut. Brannan, 14 F. Meerut,
Bengal,
M'Intyre, from 33 F. with Major Fane,
20th Aug. 1820.
1 W. I. R.
Demoor, 17 F. Fort William, Bengal,
Capt. Jones, from 15 Dr. With Capt. Garth, 37 F.
29th Sept.
Lister, from 11 F. with Capt. Derinzy, h. p. Pickering, 17 F. do.
3d Oct.
Wiltshire, from 21 F. with Capt. Daniel, h. p. Wilton, 53 F. Bangalore,
28th Sept.
Sanderson, 89 F.rec. diff. with Capt. Savage, Hilliard, 4 R. Vet. Bat. Liverpool,
h. p.
18th Jan. 1821.
Lieut. Tighe, from Gren. Gds. rec. diff. with Lieut. Goodman, h. p. 4 Dr.
Sir John Burgoyne, h. p.
Watkins, h. p. 4 Dr.
- Purdon, from 41 F. with Lieut. Townsend, Cazalet, h. p. 6 Dr.
h. p.
Crewe, h. p. 36 F. 12th Nov. 1820.
O'Brien, from 18 F. with Lieut. Robison, De Laffert, h. p. 3 Line Germ. Leg. Hanover,
h. p. 220 DE.
7th Oct.
O'Neill, from 58 F. with Lieut. Stevenson, Cornet Hon. D. Carleton, h. p. 4 Dr. Newbury,
64 F.
Berks.
A. Cameron, from 79 F. with Lt. Beckham, Ensign Gamble, 4 F. Trinidad, 928 Jan. 1821.
89 F.
Aimsinck, 92 F. on passage from Jamaica.
Fenton, from 81 F. rec. diff. with Lt. Hall,
Ford, 1 W. I. R. Dominica, 14th Dec. 1820.
h. p. 69 F.
White, Inval. Pimlico, 17th Feb. 1821.
Randal, from 92 F.rec. diff. with Lt. Clarke, Quart. Mast. Parkes, h. p. 4 Dr. Wolverhamton,
h. p.
23d Feb. 1821.
Ens. and Adjt. Osborne, from 1 F. with Lieut. and Dep. Assist. Com. Gen. Braybrooke, Berbice,
Adjut. Russell, h. p. 62 F.
17th Dec. 1820.
Ens. Honeywood, from 45 F. with Ens. Wetherall,
Ackroyd, Barbadoes,
h. p. 1 F.
13th Jan. 1821.
Innes, from 49 F. with Ens. Birney, hrp.97 F.
Couper, from 64 F. with Ens. Thomas, h. p.
Richardson, Berbice,
17th Jan. 1821.
37 F.
Physician Joseph Taylor, on passage from Ja-
Macleod, from 79 F. with Ens. Boates, h. p maica to Canada,
muth Nov.
6 F
Staff Surg. Codrington, Coventry, 21st Mar.
Surg. Erskine, from 22 F.with Surg. Bolton, h. p. Surg. O'Meally, 11 Dr.
Reynolds, from 72 F. with Surg. White, h. p. Assist. Surg. Webb, h. p. 58 F. Castle Pollard,
Spencer, from 62 F. with Surg. Alderson,
h. p. York Rangers.
30th Sept. 1820
Apothcoary Leeson, Cape of Good Hope.
Smyth, from 45 F. with Surg. Herriot, h. p. Hospit Assist. Conway, Goree, Africa,
6 F.
19th Oct. 1820.


1821.]
121
Register.-Births, Marriages, and Deaths.
BIRTHS, MARRIAGES, AND DEATHS.
2 son.
BIRTHS.
At St Thomas's Mount, Madras, 13th October,
1820, the lady of Major Limmond, Honourable
East India Company's Artillery, of a daughter.
Feb. 21. The Right Honourable Harriet Paget,
of a daughter.
24. Mrs James Campbell, Northumberland
Street, of a daughter.
98. At Fortwilliam, Mrs Thomas Macdonald,
of a daughter.
March 1. Mrs. C. Terrot, West Nicholson's
Street, of a son.
9. At Springkell, the lady of Lieutenant Colonel
Sir John Heron Maxwell, Bart. of a son.
3. At Levenside-house, Mrs Blackburn, of
Killearn, of a son.
4. Mrs John Menzies, Salisbury Street, of a
son.
6. At Auchenard, the lady of Major Alston, of
a daughter.
- Åt London, the lady of David Chas. Guthrie,
Esq. of a daughter.
11. At Largs, the lady of Captain Chas. Hope
Reid, of his Majesty's ship Driver, of a son.
12. At 25, Gayfield Square, Mrs A. Thomson,
of a son.
15. Mrs Corrie, Queen Street, of a daughter.
17. At Bonnington Bank, Mrs Wyld, of a son.
- At Edinburgh, Mrs Speid, St John Street, of
18. At G, Park Street, Mrs Hogg, Altrive Lake,
da son.
-The lady of John Anstruther Thomson, Esq.
of Charleton, of a daughter.
19. At 23, Northumberland Street, the lady of
W. Macdonald, M. D. of Balyshear, of a daughter.
-Mrs Douglas, Drummond Place, of a son.
20. The lady of John Watson, Esy. of Upper
Bedford Place, London, of a son.
- At Clapham, the lady of Alex. Gordon, Esq.
of Old Broad Street, London, of a daughter.
- At Clifton, the lady of Arnold Thomson Esq.
of the 8lst regiment, of a daughter.
21. At St Andrews, Mrs Lee, of a daughter.
2. At Paris, the Countess of Airly, of a
daughter.
2. Mrs Mowbray, Howe Street, of a son.
%. In George Street, the lady of John Mans-
field, Esq. of a daughter.
- Mrs John Scotland, of a daughter.
31. Mrs Richard Mackenzie, of a son.
- At Edinburgh, Mrs Macleod, jun. of Cadboll,
of a son.
Latdy. Mrs M'Culloch, Shandwick Place, of a
son.
- At Kew, the lady of Captain Archibald
Buchanan, R. N. of a son.
MARRIAGES.
Feb. 27. At Wigton, Mr. James Thomson, sur
geon, Newton-Stewart, to Miss Janet Parker,
Wigton.
- At Spott-house, Captain Alexander Renton
Sharpe, royal navy, c. B. to Catherine, eldest
daughter of Robert Hay, Esq. of Spott.
March. I. At Aberdeen, the Rev. Patrick Cheyne,
minister of St John's Episcopal Chapel, to Eliza,
youngest daughter of the deceased John Annand of
Belmont, Esq.
- At Glasgow, Mr Dugald Maclachlan, mer-
chant, Tobermory, to Miss Catherine Macdouald,
only daughter of the late Captain Macdonald,
Alva
6. At Glasgow, Mr Charles Kennedy, surgeon,
Edinburgh, to Isabella, youngest daughter of the
Late Rev. Mr Gilbert Dickson.
- At Leith, Mr Thomas Hardie, mercluant,
Leith, to Ann, daughter of Mr Williain Goddard.
9. At St Patrick Square, Lieutenant Grant, late
d regiment, to Mary Ann, cldest daughter of
the late Captain Watson.
10. Lieutenant-Colonel James Johnstone Coch-
rane, of the 3d regiment of guards, to Charlotte,
daughter of J. Wiltshire, Esq. of Shockerwick-
house.
12. At St John's Church, Horsly Down, Lon-
don, Mr James B. Scott, brewer, Leith, to Jane,
eldest daughter of John Donaldson, Esq of Tho-
mas Street
16. At Gilmore Place, Mr Robert Gilmour, to
Elizabeth Beatson, daughter of David Boswell
Beatson, Esq. late of the North Glassmount, and
relict to Dr O'Flaharty, late of the island of St
Eustatia.
19. At Queen Street, George Augustus Borth-
wick, M. D. to Janet, daughter of George Kinnear,
Esq. banker.
21. At Oatridge, the Rev. John Geddes, one of
the ministers of Paisley, to Dora, eldest daughter
of the late Mr James Thomson, Oatridge.
23. At Inverness, Lieutenant-Colonel A. Mack-
intosh, H. E. I. C. S. to Anna, eldest daughter of
the late David Sheriff, Esq.
- At Edinburgh, Mr William Jamieson, build-
er, to Helen, daughter of Mr Alexander Aber-
nethy, farmer, Westside.
24. At Charlotte Square, Major William Power,
of his Majesty's 7th dragoon guards, to Miss Ann
Horner, youngest daughter of John Horner, Esq.
26. At Kenmore Castle, Mr J. Maitland, Edin-
burgh, to Frances, eldest daughter of the late
James Dalzell, Esq. of Barncrosh.
29. At Edinbargh, William Young, M. D. to
Margaret, daughter of the late Mr R. White, Ha-
mildean.
30. Mr Thomas Hardy, surgeon and dentist,
Duke Street, to Rosabina, daughter of Robert
Forrester, Esq. treasurer of the Bank of Scotland.
DEATHS.
June, 21, 1820. At Hydrabad, Captain Pringle,
Fraser, 7th regiment native infantry aged 83 years,
eldest son of the late Rev. John Fraser, Libberton,
Lanarkshire.
July 27. At Mullye, on the Nepaul frontier, Major
Charles Peter Hay, of the 22d regiment, Bengal
infantry, commanding the Champarur light in-
fantry.
Aug. 23. At Bandah, Bengal, Mr Hay Mac-
dowall, youngest son of the late H. D. Macdow-
all of Walkingshaw, Esq.
27. At Delhi, Lieutenant Charles George Con-
stable, Adjutant to the 1st battalion, 26th regiment
native infantry, much regretted.
Sept. 3. At Calcutta, Robert Campbell, Esq. of
the civil department there.
11. At Baroche, Mrs Campbell, wife of Captain
A. Campbell, of the Artillery, and Commissary of
Stores, on the Bombay Establishment, having
given birth to a son on the 5th.
12. At Calcutta, Walter Davidson, Esq. of the
firm of Hogue, Davidson, Robertson, and Co.
Oct. 8. At Chittagong, East Indies, Lieutenant
James Ewart, of the Bengal artillery, son of Mr
Ewart, clerk in Chancery.
Nov. 20. At Port Maria, Jamaica, Captain James
Gordon, late of the Aberdeenshire militia.
Dec. 17. At St Helena, Robert Grant, Esq. R. N.
second son of the late Francis Grant, Esq. of Kil-
graston.
26. At Berbice, Miss Margaret Johnston, eldest
daughter of the late Dr Archibald Johnston of
that colony.
Feb. 3, 1821. At Lucia, in the 50th year of his age,
John M'Call, Esq. late President of the Council in
that island, second son of the late John M'Call,
Esq. merchant in Glasgow.
4. At their house, near Pinkie, Miss Jean ; and
on the 28th, Miss Ann, her sister, daughters of
the deceased Mr Main.
16. At York Place, Edinburgh, Ellward, the
youngest, and on the zoth Williain, aged 21', the
eldest son of Mr Peter Lorimer, builder.


192
Register.Deaths.
[April,
20. At Bath, Thomas Macdonald, Esq. former - At Alloa, Thomas Drummond, second son
ly of Hind Street, London, late first commission. of Mr. George Charles.
er of the board appointed by the act of parliament - At her house, Canongate, Christian, young.
for deciding on the claims of British subjects upon est daughter of the late Mr John Henderson.
the American government.
13. Åt her house, Pitt Street, Mrs Christian
23. At Rockingham, in Ireland; aged 88, the Baird, relict of Mr George Callender, surveyor in
honourable Colonel King, governor of the county Edinburgh.
of Sligo.
At London, John Hunter, Esq. Vice-Admiral
24. At Hamburgh, Beatrice Jane, infant daugh- of the Red, aged 83.
ter of Mr Alexander M‘Laren.
14. At Earlstoun, Mrs Esther Lauriston, widow
26. At Stirling, Mr Burdon, late rector of the of the late Rev. Laurence Johnston, minister of
gramar school there.
that parish.
28. At Edinburgh, aged 12, Nay Campbell Tait, 16. At Castle-Douglas, Mr William Crosbie,
son of Craufurd Tait of Harviestoun, Esq. W. S. wine and spirit merchant.
- Mr Robert Callender, accountant in Edin. - At his house, Broughton Street, Mr Thomas
burgh.
Goodsir.
March 2. At Edinburgh, Mrs Ann Gardner, wife - At his house, 10, Catherine Street, Mr John
of Mr Sylvester Reid, accountant and deputy clerk Horsburgh, shoemaker.
of teinds.
At Edinburgh, the Hon. Mary Dunean,
- At Cupar Fife, Mrs David Methven.
youngest daughter of Viscount Duncan.
3. At Arihurstone, Perthshire, Mary Harris, - At Orchardton, James Douglas of Orchard-
infant daughter of Lieutenant-Colonel' Dick of ton, Esq.
Tullymet.
16. Åt Stratford Place, London, Lieutenant
At Montrose, Mrs Major Gardyne.
Colonel P. Douglas, late of the honourable East
At Moor Park, Richard Alexander Oswald, India Company's service, on the Bengal establishe
Esq.
ment.
At Edinburgh, David Pringle, son of the 17. George Tate, Admiral in the Russian ser.
late James Pringle, Esq. of Lampikewells. vice, Senator, and Knight of St Alexander Nevs.
- At Linlithgow, Mary Martin relict of Alex. koy, &c. &c. in the 76th year of his age.
Jamieson, in the 99th year of her age.
- At Edinburgh, Miss Jane Charters Hardie,
- At her house, in Elder Street, Mrs Magdalene second daughter of the late Dr Hardie, minister of
Lythgow, relict of John Young, Esq. architect in Ashkirk.
Edinburgh.
- At Leith, Mrs M'Gibbon. Her remains were
5. At Bellfield, in the 86th year of his age, Mr deposited in the same grave with those of her hus-
James Stalker, who long enjoyed the highest cele band, her son, and daughter-in-law, all of whom
brity as a teacher of English in the city of Edin fell victims to suffocation, in a very confined apart-
burgh.
ment, in one night.
6. At Crossmount, Mrs Janet Butter, spouse of – Mrs Ann Bell, wife of Mr James Alison,
Captain John Campbell of Boreland.
merchant in Leith, aged 41.
- At his house in Bolton Row, Viscount Chet At Elm-House, Haddington, of apoplexy,
wynd, aged 84.
James Cockburn, Esq. in the 08th year of his age.
- At Portobello, Mr John Pringle, late sur. 18. Mr Andrew Lawrie, late upholsterer in
geon, R. N.
Edinburgh.
7. At Haddington, Mr William Veitch, in the - At Camlarg Lodge, Ayrshire, David Wood.
87th year of his age.
burn, Esq.
At Dundas Castle, Adamina, the infant At the Manse of Gigha, Mrs Margaret Ste-
daughter of James Dundas, Esq. of Dundas. venson, spouse of the Rev. Malcolm MacDonald.
9. At Paris, Major General Randolph Marriott. 19. At Edinburgh, Mrs Gloag, wiſe to Mr John
- At Edinburgh, aged 22, Ronald C. F. Tullis, Gloag, late merchant, Edinburgh.
son of Mr Robert Tullis, Abbotshall, Fifeshire. 20. At his house, James's Place, Leith Links,
- At Farr, Inverness-shire, James Mackintosh, Mr Robert Dudgeon, merchant, Leith.
Esq. of Farr, in the 89th year of his age, and one - At Stephen's Green, Dublin, Mrs Plunkett,
of the oldest Justices of the Peace in the county wife of the right honourable W. C. Plunkett
a gentleman highly distinguished for soundness of Colonel Sandeman, of Denfield, near Ar-
judgment and upright conduct.
broath.
11. At Gorgie, Marion, second daughter of At Haddington, Lieutenant John Henning,
Robert Robb, fariner there.
Adjutant of the East Lothian yeomanry cavalry.
- At his house, Stockbridge, Mr William His reinains were attended to the grave by the gen-
Neaves, writer.
tlemen of the corps in their uniforms.
12. In the neighbourhood of Manchester, aged - At Torbreck, Alexander Fraser, Esq. of Tor-
20 years, Richard Thomas, second son of the
late breck, deeply and justly regretted.
Mr Thomas Hunt of Berford, Oxon. It is impos. 23. At Edinburgh, Miss Isabella Webster, third
sible for those who were acquainted with this ex. daughter of the late Rev. John Webster.
traordinary young man to record his death, which 21. At Shrub Place, Edinburgh, Miss Janet
took place under eircumstances peculiarly distress-
Wood.
ing, without the most unſeigned and sincere re - At Pitt Street, Edinburgh, George John, son
gret. Of the instances of promises cut short, and of Dr Robertson.
expectations blighted, few more melancholy can 25. At London, Mrs Wylie, mother of Dr Wylie,
be found. He was the possessor of talents and abi of the Madras artillery.
lities of no ordinary or common rank, with a por. 27. At Montrose, Mrs Airth, wife of Alexandor
tion of intellectual energy, still rare to be met with; Airth, Esq. of Craigs.
high in hope, and fervent in fancy-enthusiastic in - Át his house in Craig's Close, Mr David Wil-
his researches, and indefatigable in his zeal. Such lison, printer.
was his disposition, and such his manners, that - At his house in Frederick Street, Lieutenant-
no one could know him without being concilia Colonel Thomas Ingles.
ted by his address, and won by his conversation. 28. At Slateford, Mrs Janet Cox, wife of the
By those who had the pleasure of his acquaintance Rev. Dr Belfrage.
he will not soon be forgotten; and those even to - Mr Thomas Morton, late farmer in Balhouf-
whom he was unknown, may perhaps not refuse to fie, parish of Kilrenny, aged 85 years, deeply re-
lament over the memory of one who, had he lived, gretied.
might have attained the highest dignities of his - At Meadow Place, Lieutenant Donald Grant,
profession, and become one of its greatest orna of the Inverness-shire militia.
ments.
- At Fisherrow, Mr Peter Cathie, merchant.
- At his house, Simon Square, Mr John Latdy. In Stephen's Green, Dublin, in the Sath
Brown, geneologist to his present Majesty when year of his age, Mr William Gilbert, late of Dame
Prince of Wales, aged 81.
Street, bookseller.
At her house, Curzon Street, May Fair, - At Exeter, aged 82, Lady Mary Hannilton,
London, the Countess Dowager of Essex, aged 87. great aunt to the Earl of Leven and Melville, and
- At Spring Garden, Alicia Sophia Baird, aunt to the Earl of Northesk.
youngest daughter of Sir James G. Baird of - In the West Indies, Colonel Clark of the 5th
Saughtonhall, Bart.
regiment of foot.
1


1821.]
123
Register-Deaths.
JAMES BONAR, ESQ.
25. At Edinburgh, James Bonar, Esq. Solicitor of liest interest in every institution which propa
Excise after a short illness. Thisgentleman was emi sed the dissemination of that truth as its ob
nentlydistinguished as a man of science, as a scholar, jeet ; for thirty years he discharged the duties
and as a Christian. Possessed of an active mind, and of one of the principal officers of the Society for
of a studious disposition, Mr Bonar early devoted Propagating Religious Knowledge. He was se
much of his time and attention to those literary eretary to the Society for the Sons of the Clergy,
pursuits, which qualified him to fill the highest of as also one of the secretaries of the Edinburgh
fices in many of the most distinguished literary Bible Society: and indeed there is scarcely a so.
and scientific societies of this city. He was an early ciety in the city or neighbourhood, whose object
meinber of, and for many years Secretary to the was to promote either the present or future hap-
Speculative Society, a member of the Royal So piness of mankind, in which he has not been re-
ciety of Edinburgh, and a member of the Astro cognized as an active and useful member.-And
Byroical Institution, in each of which he held the when to this we add the exemplary piety
of his pri.
otice of treasurer at the time of his death. But his vate life, his cheerfulness of disposition, unabtru-
personal exertions were not confined to the pro sive manners, extensive knowlelge, indefatigable
motion of literature and science, as, with a deep industry, and unwearied zeal in every pursuit in
impression on his own mind of the yet greater which he engaged, we cannot but consider the
value of religious truths, he ever evinced the live dcath of such a man a public loss.
SAMUEL ANDERSON, ESQ.
27. Samuel Anderson, Esq. of Rowchester and merous than they were judicious; but of the ex.
Moredun, banker in this city. Mr Anderson had tent of these no idea can be formed, as genuine
set off for his seat in Berwickshire on that day, modesty, and a total want of ostentation, were
scronpanied by his lady and daughter, and whilst most conspicuous traits in his character.
the horses were changing at the inn of Whitbum, In general society, his manners were affable and
he was suddenly taken it, and, in a short time, unobtrusive-his conversation lively and instruc-
breathed his last.
tive-his remarks, at all times shrewd, were uni-
Few individuals have been looked up to with formly to the point at issue. When retired in the
more confidence and respect, as a citizen of Edin bosom of his family, he shone conspicuous as an
burgh, than Mr Anderson. Endowed with supe attentive and an affectionate husband, and a fond
rior talents, and educated for a mercantile protes. father. He was cheerful, humorous, and gay-en-
sion, his mind acquired an expansion of ideas, and joying at all times innocent mirth, and possessing
a hbaality of thought, by which his public con a vein of wit, which, though often displayed, was
duct was ever regulated. 'In early life he was as never known to touch upon the foibles, or wound
sumed as a partner in the banking-house of Sir the feelings of any one.
Wiliam Forbes and Co. and his situation there The general regret that his death has occasioned
brought him more in contact with the public. is the best testimony of his public character and
Easy of access all ranka found in him a ready and private worth, and must prove a balm of consola-
able friend, either to direct at the outset-regulate tion to the fanily and relations whom he has left
in the progress--or support at the close of life. His to lament his loss.
acts of liberality and generosity were no less nu-
DR GREGORY.
April 2. At Edinburgh, Dr James Gregory, Pro consequence of the death of Dr Cullen, to the Chair
fessor of the Practiec of Medicine in the University of the Practice of Physic, the most important
ef Edinburgh, and first Physician to his Majesty medical professorship in the University; and for
for Scotland. He was interred on the 9th with great thirty-two years he sustained and increased the
solemnity, his funeral being attended by the Lord celebrity which the eminence of his predecessor
Provost and Magistrates, Professors of the Univer had conferred upon the office. During this long
sity, and other Public Bodies, by his numerous period the fame which his talents had acquired
students, and private friends.
attracted students from all parts of the world to
It is seldom our lot to record the death of an in this city, all of whom returned to their homes with
dividual so universally esteemed, or whose loss feelings of reverence for his character, more nearly
will occasion so irreparable a blank, both in the resembling that which the disciples of antiquity
academical celebrity of this city, and the national felt for their instructors than any thing which is
celebrity of the country. He has been long at the generally experienced in the present situation of
head both of the Medical School and the Medical society.
Practice of Edinburgh; and to his great talents and of the estimation in which his scientific merits
distinguished character, much, not only of the were held throughout Europe, it is a sufficient
ezinence of the University, but also of the pros proof that he is one of the few of our countrymen
perity of the city, is to be ascribed. For above who have been honoured with a seat in the Insti-
thirty years he has annually taught the medical tute of France, a distinction which is only con-
students of the University the most important part ferred upon a very small and select number of
of their professional duties, and an admiration of foreigners.
his abilities and reverence for his character have in As a literary man, he has long enjoyed a very
consequence extended not only as far as the Eng- high reputation. His acute and discriminating
lish language is spoken, but as far as the light of mind was early devoted to the study of metaphy-
evilization has spread in the world. Perhaps there sics ; and in the Literary and Philosophical Essays
is no scientific man now in existence whose name which he published in the year 1792, is to be found
is s universally revered, or whose instructions one of the inost original and forcible refutations of
have diffused over so wide a sphere the micans of the dangerous doctrine of necessity which has ever
relieving human distress.
appeared. To his reputation as an accomplished
He was appointed in the year 1776, at the early scholar, all the well informed persons in both parts
age of twenty-three, to the Professorship of the of the island can bear testimony. He was one of
Theory of Physic, and he continued to teach this the few men who have rescued this country from
class with great distinction for upwards of twelve the imputation of a deficiency in classical taste,
years. As a text book for the lectures, he publish which is thrown upon it with too much justice by
ed in the year 1762, his Conspectus Medicine The our southern neighbours, and demonstrated that
celice, which soon became a work of standard re the vigour of Scottish talent may be combined
putation over all Europe, not only in consequence with the elegance of English accomplishments.
of the scientific merits which it possessed, but the He was one of the last of that illustrious body
singular felicity of classical language with which it of literary and scientific men whose labours gave
was written. In the year 1790 he was appointed, in distinction to their country during the latter part


124
Register.--Deaths.
[April,
Esq.
of the last century: and among the names of his THE FUNERAL PROCESSION.
intimate friends may be ranked those of almost all
The procession, upwards of 500 in number,
of his cotemporaries, who will be remembered in
moved from St Andrew's Square a few minutes
future ages as men of science or learning, of Cullen
past one o'clock, along Prince's Street, the North
and Black, of Reid, and Smith, and Stewart; and
Bridge, down the High Street, to the Canongate
we will venture to say, that the spot where his
Church Yard, in the following order :-
remains now lie interred, beside those of Adam
Four Batonmen.
Smith, will long be visited by the admirers of
Six Ushers.
Scottish genius, as fitted to awaken no common
Two Mutes.
recollections.
The Gentlemen of the Doctor's Class,
Great, however, as was his reputation as a Pro-
walking four and four.
fessor, and as a man of science and literature, it
Two Mutes,
was yet inferior to that which his character had
THE BODY,
acquired among his personal friends. Descended
The Pall suported by
by the father's side from a long and memorable Chief-mourner—John Gregory, Esq.
line of ancestors, among whom the friend and co-
Right side.
Left side.
temporary of Newton is remembered, and by the
1. Mr James Gregory
1. Mr William Gregory
mother's, from one of the most ancient noble fa-
2. Mr Donald Gregory 2. Rev. Archd. Alison
milies of Scotland, his character was early formed
3. Dr. W. P. Alison 3. Mr Archd. Alison
on an elevated model; and throughout his whole
4. Sir G. Mackenzie 4. T. Farquharson,
life, he combined, in a degree seldom equalled, the
Bart.
studies and acquirements of a man of science with
5. Dr A. M. Ross 5. George Bell, Esq.
the taste and honourable feelings of a high born
William Kerr, Esq. G. P.0.
gentleman. While his name, in consequence, was Three gilded battons on each side of the
respected throughout Europe, his society was
Pall Bearers.
sought after by the first persons of rank and emi-
The Lord Provost, Magistrates, and Council, in
nence in this country, and, like his lamented friend
their robes, preceded by the City Halberts,
Mr Playfair, he maintained in no ordinary degree
Sword, and Mace, covered with crape.
the important communication between the aristo-
The Senatus Academicus, in their gowns,
cracy of rank and of talent. The brilliancy of his
wit, and the epigrammatic force of his conversa-
preceded by their Janitor,
with the University Mace covered with crape.
tion, will long be remembered by those who had
The Physicians.
the good fortune to enjoy his acquaintance; while,
The Royal Medical Society, walking
amongst a numerous circle of relations and friends,
four and four.
the kindness and generosity of his character have
The Royal Physical Society,
rendered his death an irreparable loss, To the
four and four.
poorer classes his advice was at all times gratui-
The Friends of the Deceased, not connected
tously open; and such was the disinterestedness of
with the Public Bodies, comprehending
his conduct, that his income never was nearly so
many of the most eminent characters
great as the celebrity of his name might have pro-
of the country.
cured.
The Procession closed with the carriage of the
He was distinguished through life by a nice and
deceased, and those of the Gentleinen
chivalric sense of honour, which was perhaps too
attending.
high toned for the tranquil exercise of the profes On the arrival at the Church-yard, the proces-
sion to which he belonged; and occasionally led
sion moved round the Church by the east end ; on
him into differences with his professional brethren,
which his friends could not but lament, even while
the students arriving at the gate, they opened to
they admired and venerated the high notions of
the right and left, to allow the coffin to pass
personal and professional honour in which they proceeded from the gate of the Church-yard direct
through, uncovering at the same time. The friends
originated. His whole character, indeed, was ra-
to the grave.
ther ned upon the exalted model of ancient
The streets through which the procession pass.
virtue, than accommodated to the lower standard
ed, and the windows, were crowded, and the pres.
of mere professional respectability; and we know
of no one to whose life and conduct we can more
sure was such that the procession had repeatedly
to halt. The Regent Road, and the other terraces
truly apply the classical words which he inscribed
on the Calton Hill overlooking the place of inter-
on the tomb of one of his earliest and most velued
friends
ment, were also covered with spectators. After the
" Vir priscæ virtutis, per omnes vitæ gradus, et
interment the Magistrates, Council, and Profes
in omni vitæ officio, probatissima,"
sors retired into the church and disrobed, and the
company separated on the burying ground,
Printed by Jumes Ballantyne and Co.


BLACKWOOD'S
EDINBURGH MAGAZINE.
No. L.
MAY, 1821.
Vol. IX.
Contents.
macaren 187
wanaume. 131
caramanma 194
mano 196
wo 210
w 221
Vanderdecken's Message Home 127 | The Leafless Treemmm
Familiar Letter from the Adjutant, Translations from the less Familiar
containing Projects, Promises, and Latin Classics. No. VI. Prudentius 192
Imitations
The Martyrdom of St Eulalia. ib.
Fragment of a Vision
135
On a Baptismal Font
The Galiongee.mamammamanan... 136 Mary Queen of Scots
ib.
The Kail Pot
138 Manchester versus
" Manchester
Billy Blinn
139
Poetry.”
Letter from Dr Olinthus Petrecomano 140 Annals of the Parish ; or the Chro-
Caroline Matilda, Queen of Denmark 142 nicle of Dalmailing
203
Twilight Musings...
147 Narrative of the Chinese Embassy to
Biblical Sketches.
the Khan of the Tourgouth Tar.
No. IV. The Death of Absalom 149
tars now
No. V. The Olive Bough...... ib. Extract from Herodotus camaranaman
No. VI. Hagar in the Wilderness 150 On Parliamentary Reform
222
Sketches of Scottish Character. No. VI.
Ripvanwinkle
Parson Willie. momenom.ar 151 Letter from Rio de Janeiro.commemora 226
Willie Herdman cowo.memanomaa. 154 Lord Byron and Pope
manae amarano 227
Preacher Geordy.
Additional Notices of Geordy.com 157 WORKS PREPARING for PUBLICA-
The Steam-Boat, No. III. Voyage
TION
First. (Concluded).
161
Tale IV. The Wearyful Woman 162 MONTHLY List oF NEW PUBLI.
Tale V. Spitzbergen......
166 CATIONS
Henry Schultze, and other Poems ... 168
On Vulgar Prejudices against Litera-
MONTHLY REGISTER.
173 Commercial Report..
238
Campaigns of the British Army at Appointments, Promotions, &c. mwan
243
Washington, &c.com macaranara 180 | Births, Marriages, and Deaths.mama 244
mwanamama 225
marocaranno 156
wanawano 234
mwano 236
ture
EDINBURGH:
FILLIAM BLACKWOOD, No. 17, PRINCE'S STREET, EDINBURGH ;
AND T. CADELL AND W. DAVIES, STRAND, LONDON ;
To whom Communications (post paid) may be addressed.
SOLD ALSO BY ALL THE BOOKSELLERS OF THE UNITED KINGDOM.
JAMES PALLANTYNE & CO. PRINTERS, EDINBURGH.





BLACKWOOD'S
EDINBURGH MAGAZINE.
No. L.
MAY, 1821.
VOL. IX
VANDERDECKEN'S MESSAGE HOME;
Or, the Tenacity of Natural Affection.
Our ship, after touching at the Cape, ring what he was looking at, he would
went out again, and soon losing sight give no definite answer. They there-
of the Table Mountain, began to be fore went also to the bows, and ap-
assailed by the impetuous attacks of peared startled, and at first said no-
the sea, which is well known to be thing. But presently one of them
more formidable there than in most cried, “ William, go call the watch.”
parts of the known ocean. The day The seamen, having been asleep in
had grown dull and hazy, and the their hammocks, murmured at this
breeze, which had formerly blown unseasonable summons, and called to
fresh, now sometimes subsided almost know how it looked upon deck. To
entirely, and then recovering its which Tom Willis replied, " Come up
strength, for a short time, and chan- and see. What we are minding is not
ging its direction, blew with temporary on deck, but a-head.”
violence, and died away again, as if On hearing this, they ran up with-
exercising a melancholy caprice. A out putting on their jackets, and when
heavy swell began to come from the they came to the bows there was a
south-east. Our sails flapped against whispering.
the masts, and the ship rolled from One of them asked, “ Where is she?
side to side, as heavily as if she had I do not see her.” To which another
been water-logged. There was so little replied, “ The last flash of lightning
wind that she would not steer.
shewed there was not a reef in one of
At two P. M. we had a squall, ac- her sails; but we, who know her his-
companied by thunder and rain. The tory, know that all her canvass will
xamen, growing restless, looked anxi- never carry her into port.”
ously a head. They said we would By this time, the talking of the sea-
have a dirty night of it, and that it men had brought some of the passen-
would not be worth while to turn in- gers on deck. They could see nothing,
to their hammocks. “As the second however, for the ship was surrounded
mate was describing a gale he had en- by thick darkness, and by the noise of
countered off Cape Race, Newfound- the dashing waters, and the seamen
land, we were suddenly taken all a- evaded the questions that were put to
back, and the blast came upon us fu- them.
riously. We continued to scud under a At this juncture the chaplain came
double reefed mainsail and foretopsail on deck. He was a man of grave and
till dusk; but, as the sea ran high, the modestdemeanour, and was much liked
captain thought it safest to bring her among the seamen, who called him Gen-
to. The watch on deck consisted of tle George. He overheard one of the
four men, one of whom was appointed men asking another, “ If he had ever
to keep a look-out a-head, for the seen the Flying Dutchman before, and
weather was so hazy, that we could if he knew the story about her ?" To
not see two cables length from the which the other replied, “ I have heard
bows. This man, whose name was of her beating about in these seas.
Tom Willis, went frequently to the What is the reason she never reaches
bows, as if to observe something; and port ?"
when the others called to him, inqui The first speaker replied, “They
Vol. IX.
Q


128
Vanderdecken's Message Home.
[May
give different reasons for it, but my The lamp at the binnacle being re-
story is this: She was an Amsterdam lighted, they perceived that the ship
vessel, and sailed from that port se- lay closer to the wind than she had
venty years ago. Her master's name hitherto done, and the spirits of the
was Vanderdecken. He was a staunch passengers were somewhat revived.
seaman, and would have his own way, Nevertheless, neither the tempestu-
in spite of the devil. For all that, ne ous state of the atmosphere, nor the
ver a sailor under him had reason to thunder had ceased; and soon a vivid
complain; though how it is on board flash of lightning shewed the waves
with them now, nobody knows; the tumbling around us, and, in the dis-
story is this, that in doubling the Cape, tance, the Flying Dutchman scudding
they were a long day trying to weather furiously before the wind, under a press
the Table Bay, which we saw this of canvass. The sight was but mo-
morning. However, the wind headed mentary, but it was sufficient to re-
them, and went against them more and move all doubt from the minds of the
more, and Vanderdecken walked the passengers.
One of the men cried a-
deck, swearing at the wind. Just after loud, " There she goes, top-gallants
sunset, a vessel spoke him, asking if and all.”
he did not mean to go into the Bay The chaplain had brought up his
that night. Vanderdecken replied, prayer-book, in order that he might
“May I be eternally dd if I do, draw from thence something to forti-
though I should beat about here till the fy and tranquillize the minds of the
day of judgment !" And to be sure, rest. Therefore, taking his seat near
Vanderdecken never did go into that the binnacle, so that the light shone
bay; for it is believed that he conti- upon the white leaves of the book, he,
nues to beat about in these seas still, in a solemn tone, read out the service
and will do so long enough. This ves- for those distressed at sea. The sailors
sel is never seen but with foul weather stood round with folded arms, and
along with her."
looked as if they thought it would be
To which another replied, “ We of little use. But this served to oc-
must keep clear of her. They say that cupy the attention of those on deck for
her captain mans his jolly boat, when
a while.
a vessel comes in sight, and tries hard In the mean time, the flashes of
toget along-side, to put letters on board, lightning becoming less vivid, shewed
but no good comes to them who have nothing else, far or near, but the bil-
communication with him.”
lows weltering round the vessel. The
Tom Willis said, “ There is such a sailors seemed to think that they had
sea between us at present, as should not yet seen the worst, but confined
keep us safe from such visits." their remarks and prognostications to
To which the other answered: “We their own circle.
cannot trust to that, if Vanderdecken At this time, the captain, who had
sends out his men.'
hitherto remained in his birth, came on
Some of this conversation having deck, and, with a gay and unconcerned
been overheard by the passengers, there air, inquired what was the cause of
was a commotion among them. In the the general dread. He said he thought
mean time, the noise of the waves they had already seen the worst of the
against the vessel, could scarcely be weather, and wondered that his men
distinguished from the sounds of the had raised such a hubbub about a
distant thunder. The wind had ex- capful of wind. Mention being made
tinguished the light in the binnacle, of the Flying Dutchman, the captain
where the compass was, and no one laughed. He said, “ he would like
could tell which way the ship’s head very much to see any vessel carrying
lay. The passengers were afraid to ask top-gallant-sails in such a night, for it
questions, lest they should augment the would be a sight worth looking at."
secret sensation of fear which chilled The chaplain, taking him by one of
every heart, or learn any more than the buttons of his coat, drew him aside,
they already knew. For while they and appeared to enter into serious con-
attributed their agitation of mind to versation with him.
the state of the weather, it was suffi While they were talking together;
ciently perceptible that their alarms the captain was heard to say,
also arose from a cause which they did look to our own ship, and not mind
not acknowledge.
such things ;" and accordingly, he sent
« Let us


1821.]
Vanderdecken's Message Home.
129
a man aloft, to see if all was right about notice of this, and Vanderdecken's boat
the foretop-sail yard, which was chaf- having come close along side, one of
ing the mast with a loud noise. the men came upon deck, and appear-
It was Tom Willis who went up; ed like a fatigued and weatherbeaten
and when he came down, he said that seaman, holding some letters in his
all was tight, and that he hoped it hand.
would soon get clearer ; and that they Our sailors all drew back. The
would see no more of what they were chaplain, however, looking stedfastly
most afraid of.
upon him, went forward a few steps,
The captain and first mate were and asked, “ What is the purpose of
heard laughing loudly together, while this visit ?”
the chaplain observed, that it would The stranger replied, “ We have
be better to repress such unseasonable long been kept here by foul weather,
gaiety. The second mate, a native of and Vanderdecken wishes to send these
Scotland, whose name was Duncan letters to his friends in Europe.”
Saunderson, having attended one of the Our captain now came forward, and
University classes at Aberdeen, thought said as firmly as he could, " I wish
himself too wise to believe all that the Vanderdecken would put his letters on
sailors said, and took part with the board of any other vessel rather than
captain. He jestingly told Tom Wila mine."
lis, to borrow his grandam's spectacles The stranger replied, “ We have
the next time he was sent to keep a look- tried many a ship, but most of them
out a-head. Tom walked sulkily away, refuse our letters.”
muttering, that he would nevertheless Upon which, Tom Willis muttered,
trust to his own eyes till morning, and “ It will be best for us if we do the
accordingly took his station at the bow, same, for they say, there is sometimes
and appeared to watch as attentively as a sinking weight in your paper."
before.
The stranger took no notice of this,
The sound of talking soon ceased, but asked where we were from. On
for many returned to their births, and being told that we were from Ports-
we heard nothing but the clanking of mouth, he said, as if with strong feel-
the ropes upon themasts, and the burst- ing, “Would that you had rather been
ing of the billows a-head, as the ves- from Amsterdam.' Oh that we saw
sel successively took the seas. it again !-We must see our friends
But after a considerable interval of again.” When he uttered these words,
darkness, gleams of lightning began to the men who were in the boat below,
reappear. Tom Willis suddenly call- wrung their hands, and cried in a
ed out, “ Vanderdecken, again! Van- piercing tone, in Dutch, “Oh that we
derdecken, again! I see them letting saw it again ! We have been long here
down a boat."
beating about : but we must see our
All who were on deck ran to the friends again.'
bows. The next flash of lightning
The chaplain asked the stranger,
shone far and wide over the raging sea,
“ How long have you been at sea."
and shewed us not only the Flying
He replied,
“ We have lost our
Dutchman at a distance, but also à count; for our almanack was blown
boat coming from her with four men. over board. Our ship, you see, is
The boat was within two cables' length there still; so why should you ask
of our ship's side.
how long we have been at sea; for
The man who first saw her, ran to Vanderdecken only wishes to write
the captain, and asked whether they home and comfort his friends.”
should hail her or not. The captain, To which the chaplain replied,
walking about in great agitation, made “ Your letters, I fear, would be of nó
no reply. The first mate cried, “Who's use in Amsterdam, even if they were
going to heave a rope to that boat?" delivered, for the persons to whom they
The men looked at each other without are addressed are probably no longer
offering to do any thing: The boat to be found there, except under very
had come very near the chains, when ancientgreen turf in the church-yard.'
Tom Willis called out, “ What do The unwelcome stranger then wrung
you want? or what devil has blown' his hands, and appeared to weep; and
pou here in such weather.” A pier- replied, “ It is impossible. We cana
cing voice from the boat, replied in not believe you. We have been long
English, “ We want to speak with driving about here, but country nor
your captain.” The captain took no relations cannot be so easily forgotten.


130
Vanderdecken's Message Home.
[May,
There is not a rain drop in the air but much-beloved and faithful wife, whom
feels itself kindred to all the rest, and he left at a pleasant summer dwelling,
they fall back into the sea to meet with on the border of the Haarlemer Mer.
each other again. How then, can She promised to have the house beau-
kindred blood be made to forget where tifully painted and gilded before he
it came from? Even our bodies are came back, and to get a new set of
part of the ground of Holland ; and looking-glasses for the principal cham-
Vanderdecken says, if he once were ber, that she might see as many images
come to Amsterdam, he would rather of Vanderdecken, as if she had six
be changed into a stone post, well fix- husbands at once.”
ed into the ground, than leave it again; The man replied, “ There has been
if that were to die elsewhere. But in time enough for her to have had six
the mean time, we only ask you to take husbands since then ; but were she
these letters."
alive still, there is no fear that Vander-
The chaplain, looking at him with decken would ever get home to disturb
astonishment, said, “ This is the in- her.”
sanity of natural affection, which re On hearing this the stranger again
bels against all measures of time and shed tears, and said, if they would
distance."
not take the letters, he would leave
The stranger continued, “ Here is them; and looking around he offer-
a letter from our second mate, to his ed the parcel to the captain, chaplain,
dear and only remaining friend, his and to the rest of the crew successive-
uncle, the merchant who lives in the ly, but each drew back as it was offer-
şecond house on Stuncken Yacht ed, and put his hands behind his back.
Quay.”
He then laid the letters upon the deck,
He held forth the letter, but no one and placed upon them a piece of iron,
would approach to take it.
which was lying near, to prevent them
Tom Willis raised his voice, and from being blown away. Having done
said, “One of our men, here, says that this, he swung himself over the gang-
he was in Amsterdam last summer, way, and went into the boat.
and he knows for certain, that the We heard the others speak to him,
street called Stuncken Yacht Quay, but the rise of a sudden squall pre-
was pulled down sixty years ago, and vented us from distinguishing his re-
now there is only a large church at that ply. The boat was seen to quit the
place.”
ship's side, and, in a few moments,
The man from the Flying Dutch- there were no more traces of her than
man, said, “ It is impossible, we can- if she had never been there. The sail-
not believe you. Here is another let- ors rubbed their eyes, as if doubting
ter from myself, in which I have sent what they had witnessed, but the par-
a bank-note to my dear sister, to buy cel still lay upon deck, and proved the
some gallant lace, to make her a high reality of all that had passed.
head dress."
Duncan Saunderson, the Scotch mate,
Tom Willis hearing this, said, “ It asked the captain if he should take
is most likely that her head now lies them up, and put them in the letter-
under a tomb-stone, which will out- bag ? Receiving no reply, he would
last all the changes of the fashion. But have lifted them if it had not been for
on what house is your bank-note?" Tom Willis, who pulled him back, say-
The stranger replied, “On the house ing that nobody should touch them.
of Vanderbrucker and Company." In the mean time the captain went
The man, of whom Tom Willis had down to the cabin, and the chaplain
spoken, said, “ I guess there will now having followed him, found him at his
be some discount upon it, for that bottle-case, pouring out a large dram
banking-house was gone to destruction of brandy. The captain, although
forty years ago ; and Vanderbrucker somewhat disconcerted, immediately
was afterwards amissing:-But to re- offered the glass to him, saying, “Here,
member these things is like raking up Charters, is what is good in a cold
the bottom of an old canal.”
night." The chaplain declined drink-
The stranger called out passionate- ing any thing, and the captain having
ly, “ It is impossible-We cannot be- swallowed the bumper, they both re-
lieve it! It is cruel to say such things turned to the deck, where they found
to people in our condition. There is a the seamen giving their opinions con-
letter from our captain himself, to his cerning what should be done with the


1821.]
Vanderdecken's Message Home.
131
letters. Tom Willis proposed to pick The carpenter went to fetch his tools.
them up on a harpoon, and throw it During his absence, the ship gave so
overboard.
violent a pitch, that the piece of iron
Another speaker said, “ I have ale slidoff the letters, and they were whirl-
ways heard it asserted that it is nei- ed overboard by the wind, like birds of
ther safe to accept them voluntarily, evil omen whirring through the air.
nor when they are left to throw them There was a cry of joy among the sail-
out of the ship."
ors, and they ascribed the favourable
“ Let no one touch them," said the change which soon took place in the
carpenter. “ The way to do with the weather, to our having got quitof Van-
letters from the Flying Dutchman is to derdecken. We soon got under weigh
case them upon deck, by nailing boards again. The night watch being set, the
over them, so that if he sends back for rest of the crew retired to their births.
them, they are still there to give him.”
FAMILIAR LETTER FROM THE ADJUTANT, CONTAINING PROJECTS, PROMISES,
AND IMITATIONS.
DEAR KIT,
he plucked a leaf of laurel for his brow.
I write this in the earnest hope of But we shall drop the subject, as not
its finding you less molested by your worth speaking about-conscious that
inveterate enemy in the great toe ; and where the glory of his country, and
brimful of the delight, which your mo- the reputation of his work is concern-
desty and diffidence cannot prevented, no man will direct the helm with
you feeling, in hearing it acknowledged a more intrepid spirit, or maul the in-
from all quarters, that yours is the most vaders with a moreunerring hand, than
excellent work of its kind, which has yourself, the redoubted Christopher
appeared in any country since the in- North, Esquire.
vention of printing. Do let me know You asked me in your last, if I ever
what the Edinburgh Review people now-a-days read any? and if so, what
are saying about it, or, if they are at books occupy my attention and time?
last fairly beat to a stand still, and se- A question with a vengeance. Do you
riously thinking of giving up the con- think that my knowledge comes to me
cern. "I heard, indeed, that a meeting by intuition? After having written
of their contributors has been lately above half a hundred articles to you,
convened, either for that purpose, or in every department of human know-
perhaps for petitioning you to make ledge, you ask me if ever I read any.
your journal a general receptacle for That reminds me of the tower of Ba-
speculations of all kinds; and that, bel-you might as well ask it if it rear-
thus, such of them as were capable, ed itself
. But, in writing so, I doubt
might be transferred to the legion of not you have only made a lapsuslingua,
Blackwood, and not utterly cast desti- or at any rate a joke on my multitudi-
tute. But this is a matter, friend nous researches. All kinds of books come
North, on which I would advise you welcome enough to me. I have a capa-
to proceed with cautious circumspec- city of digestion rather ostrich-like,
tion—it might prove like marriage and capable of managing a great far-
alas! the day-a step not easy to be rago ; and assimilating the same into
remedied. Many of your supporters solid nourishment. I like the drama
would find a delicacy in making com- very much ; and Alexander Macpher-
mon cause with the generality of these son being now in the middle of the
folks, as they have uttered such a quan- fifth act, will soon shew whether or
tity of unsound and unsatisfactory stuff, not the genius of the drama loves me.
in every branch and department of hu- Novels are“ an appetite and a feeling"
man knowledge, and ridiculed every which I cannot resist-Political eco-
thing worthy of respect and venera- nomy I like better than I do some of
tion. Exempli gratia, but that's a trifle, its professors—Metaphysics are excel-
there is your humble servant, whó lent food for me; and, over a ten-
could not, with any degree of honour, hour's mathematical proposition, I am
act in concert with men, who depre- as cool as a cucumber; but entre nous,
ciated the late glorious war, and every theological controversy is my favour-
battle in it, mid whose blood-shed, ite study; but don't mention this, as
and under whose “sulphrous canopy' the Roman Catholic clergy like nothing


132
Familiar Letter from the Adjutant.
(May,
better than to have a bull-baiting with of merchants with spectacles, and goose
me; and, in spite of all my assevera- quills stuck behind their ears, ponder-
tions and protestations to the contrary, ing over their ledgers ; of awfully an-
they will insist that I am a little loose cient spinsters, leering from behind
both in my moral and religious prin- their fans, and looking unutterable
ciples; but I am thoroughly convinced things; of grocers'apprentices, sanding
that they are wrong.
the sugar, watering the tobacco, and
When you see Wastle, tell him I then walking aloft to prayers ; of the
have found it quite out of my power lack-a-daisical exclamations of board-
to be over, according to promise, at the ing-school misses, and the pettifogging
walking of the Commissioner; but hope dandyism of lawyers' clerks, --and yet,
yet to have that honour along with him. that these poets, in hostility to their
At all events, I am determined to be own doctrines, should write of such
over at the Edinburgh races, as I have natural personages as a Corsair, with
got possession of as fine a bit of horse “one virtue, and a thousand crimes ;"
Hesh as ever put hoof to turf; and I of a Lord Lara, who, seeing a ghost,
would like to know what success Sala- broke out into a perspiration, and then
manca would have, in taking a few spoke Gaelic or some other outlandish
rounds for the hunters' plate. If he be tongue; of Count Manfred, alias Dr
successful, it will be a good specula- Faustus, jun. who
tion ; if not, I will sell him the next _saw more devils than vast hell can hold,
day at Wordsworth's out of pure vex-
The madman.
ation, although I had him as a present of the Giaour, who turned an infidel
from a military friend of mine, who monk, because he ran away with ano-
rode him at the battle of Waterloo. ther man's wife, who was sewed up
He has not yet lost tooth-mark, and in a sack, and thrown into the sea ;
gallops like a fury. The best of it is, or of such a true and natural person as
that the longer he runs he continues Andes, “ Giant of the western star,”
to improve; and, if there be above sitting with his cheek reclined on his
three four mile heats, I never saw the dexter hand, and a flambeau in his left
horse, mare, or gelding, that I would fist, looking over in the dark from Ame-
not back him against, at considerable rica to Europe ;-or of a gentleman of
odds. He is a little stiff for the first the second-sight, begging his master
mile or so after starting ; but when he not to go to battle, as he had a presen-
begins to warm, you never beheld a timent that he would be much safer at
finer personification of the fine idea, home ;-and a thousand other things,
which Lord Byron has applied to de- well enough adapted to poetry, in my
note the beauty and swiftness of Ma- humble opinion, but having as slight
zeppa's charger,
an application to the practice of life, as
Who look'd as though the speed of thought Scott must immediately send Lord
can well be imagined. Sir Walter
Were in his limbs.
Cranstoun's goblin page an errand to
I have him in training already, aná the Red Sea, and let him be for ever
hope to show him off in style to you in “ lost ! lost ! lost !” And as for his re-
July. If I was not so lengthened in the doubted namesake, Michael, the flag-
nether extremities, I would not care stone must be no more lifted from his
much to jockey him myself; but that, grave;—Coleridge must tie the Aun-
to be sure, is an after consideration. cient Marinere to a stake, and have a
Do give us a paper from your edito- shot at him with the cross-bow, as he
rial pen on the Pope and Bowles con so treated the “ harmless Albatross ;"
troversy. I cannot fathom what Camp- -and as for the Lady Cristabel, he
bell and Byron would be at. Lord By- must, without delay, scribble four do-
ron compares the poetry of Pope to a zen of letters, inviting his friends to
Grecian temple, and the poetry writ- her funeral,- let him employ a patent
ten by Campbell, Scott, Wastle, Sou- coffin, as she is rather a restless and
they, Wordsworth, Hogs, Coleridge, unruly subject. -- Wordsworth must
himself, myself, &c. to the tower of dispatch the Danish Boy to the land of
Babel. A pretty comparison of a sure- shadow ;-and Hogg should purchase
ty; but it is all in my eye, Betty a pennyworth of saddle-tacks, and,
Martin, that men, like Campbell and with a trusty hammer, nail the ears of
Byron, should imagine that theessence the Gude Grey Catte to his stable-
of poetry consisted in the manners and door, to frighten away the rats, as she
inorals of society ; in drawing pictures will no longer be able to act as gover-


1821.)
Familiar Letter from the Adjutant.
133
ness to the Seven Daughters of the him to transmit it to you, that you
Laird of Blair. As for Miss Kilma- might transmit it to the proper owner?
ny, when she comes back at the end of It would not surprise me much, though
the next seven years, let him give her you were yet to write me a letter, pro-
a furlough, specifying perpetual leave of fessing your entire ignorance of the
absence.- Dr Southey ought to send a whole transaction; and that you are
specimen of a Petrified Glendoveer to free to give your oath, that you had
the College Museum, ere the species not so much as the smallest suspicion
becomes utterly extinct, that future that the memorandum-book could pos-
antiquarians may not be completely sibly belong to me. Do you think me in-
puzzled, if their bones be found, like nocent enough to believe any stuff of
those of the mammoth, in a fossil state; this sort? Though I am not a Highland-
and he ought togive the witch Maimuna er, I have enough of the second-sight to
in Thalaba, that was perpetually sing- see clearly through trifles of this kind.
ing, a half-crown's worth of the most But I will waste no more words on the
choice ballads, to set her up in a decent subject; and, though we are hundreds
line of trade, and have done with her. of miles apart, our hearts are always
Thomas Moore's Veiled Prophet, with together. I can take a joke, and can
out the nose, should get a proper certifi- give one; so we will shake hands
cate, and be sent to the Chelsea Hospi- and forget the whole matter: Indeed
tal; and, on proper representation being I am almost sorry that I mentioned it;
made, the Peri, who had neither house but don't give any more extracts with-
por hold, may be received into the Cha- out my consent.
rity-Workhouse.-Do, North, con Tell our divan, the first time you all
vince both Mr Campbell and his Lord- meet in Ambrose's, to remember me
ship, that the world is tolerably well in their prayers ; as I am sure that I
contented with the poetry they have never empty a tumbler or two, solus,
foolishly thought proper to give it; without toasting them all alternately;
that though Mr Campbell's criticism and, as I allow each a bumper, it some-
is sometimes a little vapid, yet that his times obliges me to have a third brew-
verses aregenerally excellent; and that, ing. Let them know, that I will see
if Lord Byron's system of moral and them all in July, and that I have a
ethical poetry be after his old way, - budget of famous anecdotes and ren-
that is, if Beppo and Don Juan, like contres to entertain them with ; some
the brick of the pedant in Hierocles, of them out-hector Hector, and they
are specimens of the materials of which are all personal, ipso teste, as Maturin
it is to be composed, we should think, says. But I shall drop the subject, as
that the world will be contented with I do not wish to promise. “ There's
the specimens it has already enjoyed. a braw time coming,” as the deacon's
Enongh is as good as a feast, “where son observes.
ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise;" What would you think of it, I have
and, as I am tired of it, I will drop the been amusing myself with some imi-
subject.
tations of the living authors ;-it was
Friend North, I have a crow to pluck during the time I was confined to my
with you. You are as strange a fel- room, from having sprained my left
low as ever fell within the circle of my ankle, in leaping over a five-bar gate
acquaintance, always excepting Mrs for a wager, and I intend to make a
M-Whirter, for she beats cockfight- complete cabinet of them. I have al-
ing. You will pretend, now, that you ready allowed Hazlitt a complete ration
did not know to whom the memoran- of epigram, antithesis, and paradox.
dum-book belonged, out of which you Godwin sails in a parachute of theory,
treated your readers, or rather the suspended to a balloon inflated with
world, for all the world are your read- sulphureted hydrogen ; Cobbett writes
ers, a month or two ago. Really this an official document, currente calamo,
is provoking, and I do not take it al- with all the courtier-like dignity be-
together well at your hands. Would coming a secretary to her majesty; and
it not have been more creditable to you, Charley Philips, with his fists tied into
instead of creating a few smiles at my large bladders, knocks arguments from
expence, to have written to the wan- off their feet, by repeated douces on ei-
dering sinner of a Bagman, into whose ther side of the chops, with his uncea-
hands my book fell, that you knew the sing one, twos. I have, likewise, a com-
proprietor; and that you would thank plete set of the poets, good, bad, and


134
Familiar Letter from the Adjutant.
[May,
indifferent. The Cockneys I found it tage. To begin with the mightiest
desperately hard to imitate, as I could man of our age, do you think that
not make my genius to descend so low. in the following, I have caught the
I do not know, but that I have carica- chivalrous flow, the tone of the olden
tured some of them a little ; but this time, the grace, and the harmony, and
was unintentional, as they have fair- the strength, that characterise the
ly baffled me in many particulars, poetry of the Ariosto of the North?
As you seem interested in my lite- The Lay of the Last Minstrel, and
rary doings, I will treat you with two Marmion, form eras in the mind of
or three short specimens, as I see every true living admirer of poetical
you are already in for a double pos- excellence.
The hounds in the kennel are yelling loud,
The hawks are boune for flight;
For the sun hath burst from his eastern shroud,
And the sky is clear, without a cloud,
And the steed for the chase is dight:
The merry huntsmen, up in the morn,
Crack the long whip, and wind the horn.
Lord Timothy rubbed his eyes, and rose
When he heard the merry crew;
He scarce took space to don his clothes,
And his night-cap quick he threw
Back on the pillow, and down the stair,
Disdaining brush or comb for hair,
With lightning speed he flew;
And, in the twinkling of a fan,
With frock and cap, the gallant man,
Caparison'd all spick and span,
Was with the waiting crew.
Sir Abraham rode his bonny grey ;
Sir Anthony his black;
Lord Hector hath mounted his sprightly bay;
Lord Tom, Lord Jack, and all are away;
Curvet, and demivolte, and neigh,
Mark out their bold and brisk array,
With buckskins bright, and bonnets gay,
And bugles at each back.
They had hardly ridden a mile, a mile,
A'mile but barely ten,
As each after each they leaped a stile,
When their heart play'd pit-a-pat the while,
To see a troop of armed men,
A troop of gallant men at drill,
With well soap'd locks, and stiffen'd frill;
Each in his grasp held spear or sword,
Ready to murder at a word,
And ghastly was each warrior's smile,
Beneath his barred aventayle;
Buff belts were girt around each waist ;
Steel cuisses round each thigh were braced ;
Around each knee were brazen buckles;
And iron greaves to save their knuckles;
High o'er each tin-bright helmet shone
The casque, and dancing morion,
Which reach'd to where the tailor sets,
On shoulder, woollen epaulets;
Their blades were of Toledo steel,
Ferrara, or Damascus real;
Yea! human eye did never see,
Through all the days of chivalry,
Men more beclight from head to heel, &c.
10


1921.]
185
Familiar Letter from the Adjutant.
'Lady Alice she sits in the turret tower,
A-combing her raven hair ;
The clock hath tolled the vesper hour,
Already the shadows of evening lower
Tó veil the landscape fair.
To the jetty fringe of her piercing eye
She raised her opera glass,
For she was anxious to espy
If her worthy knight should pass.-
“Lo! yonder he comes,”-she sigh'd and said,
Then with a rueful shake of head-
“Shall I my husband ne'er discover
'Tis but the white cow eating clover!"
She looked again,—" Sure yon is he,
That gallops so fast along the lea!
Alas! 'tis only a chesnut tree !!
Standing as still as still can be !!!"
-" Come hither, come hither, my little foot page,
And dance my anguish to assuage;
And be it jig, or waltz, or reel,
I care not, so it doth conceal
The ghosts, that of a thousand dyes,
Float evermore before mine eyes ;
And I, to make thee foot it gay,
With nimble finger, by my fay,
Upon the tambourine will play !" &c.
But I must not give you too much of it, as it will spoil the interest of the
work, which will shortly appear in three octavo volumes, printed uniformly,
and with portraits ; something like Peter's Letters. The imitation extends to
three cantos, together with an introductory epistle to my friend Dr Scott.-
Under the head of Coleridge, you will find the continuation of Cristabel, and
the Auncient Waggonere ; both of which were ushered into public notice by
your delightful and discriminating work, together with the following
Fragment of a Vision.
A dandy, on a velocipede,
I saw in a vision sweet,
Along the highway making speed,
With his alternate feet.
Of a bright and celestial hue
Gleam'd beauteously his blue surtout;
While ivory buttons, in a row,
Show'd like the winter's cavern’d snow,
Which the breezy North
Drives sweeping forth,
To lodge in the cave below:
Ontario's beaver, without demur,
To form his hat did lend its fur:
His frill was of the cambric fine,
And his neckcloth starch'd, and aquiline ;
And oh, the eye with pleasure dwells
On his white jean indescribables ;
And he throws the locks from his forehead fair,
And he pants, and pants, and pants for air ;
What is the reason I cannot tell,-
There is a cause I know it well;
Too firmly bound—too tightly braced,
The corsets grasp his spider waist,
• R-
Vol. IX.


136
[May,
Familiar Letter
from the Adjutant.
Till his coat tails are made to fly
Even from the back they glorify.
Look again, he is not there-
Vanish'd into the misty air !
Look again !-do ye see him yet?
Ah no! the bailiff hath seized him for debt;
And, to and fro, like a restless ghost,
When peace within the grave is lost,
He paces as far, as far he should,
Within the bounds of Holyrood !
His Lordship of Byron, I have not handled roughly enough ; I cannot yet
forget the tower of Babel ; what a speech !-as if we were a parcel of jack-
asses ! I shall yet have at him for it. What do you think of The Galiongee,-
A fragment of a Turkish Tale?
THE GALIONGEE,
A Fragment of a Turkish Tale.
Advertisement.—The Author of this tale begs to inform the public, that the scattered
fragments which it presents were collected from an improvisatore, who recited during
the time that the author drank his fifth cup of Mocha with that civillest of all gentlemen,
Ali Pacha.
The Pacha sat in his divan,
With silver-sheathed ataghan;
And call’d to him a Galiongee,
Come lately from the Euxine Sea
To Stamboul ; chains were on his feet,
And fetters on his hands were seen,
Because he was a Nazarene :
When, duly making reverence meet,
With haughty glance on that divan,
And curling lip, he thus began.
“ By broad Phingari's silver light,
When sailing at the noon of night,
Bismillah! whom did we descry
But dark corsairs, who, bent on spoil,
Athwart the deep sea ever toil! -
We knew their blood-red flags on high:
The Capitan he calld, belike,
With gesture proud, to bid us strike,
And told his Sonbachis to spare
Of not one scalp a single hair,
Though garbs of green shew'á Emirs there!
It boots not, Pacha, to relate
What souls were sent to Eblis throne,
How Azrael's arrows scatter'd fate,
How wild, wet, wearied, and alone,
When all my crew were drench'd in blood,
Or floated lifeless on the flood,
I fought unawed, nor e'er thought I
To shout Amaun,' the craven's cry.-
I took my handkerchief to wipe
My burning brow, and then I took,
With placid hand, my long chibougue,
That is to say, my Turkish pipe,
And having clapp'd it in my cheek,
Disdaining
e'er a word to speak,
I shouted to the pirate,' Now,
You've fairly beat me, I allow,'”. &c.


1921.]
Familiar Letter from the Adjutant.
137
Perhaps,—as I know that Childe Harold's Pilgrimage is one of your first
favourites,- you will find an account of his step-brother, Childe Paddy’s*
banishment to New Holland, more to your taste. This is the commencement.
Oh! mortal man how varied is thy lot,
Thy ecstasies of joy and sorrow, how
Chill'á, sunk, and servile art thou, or how hot
Flashes indignant beauty from thy brow!
Times change, and empires fall; the gods allow
Brief space for human contemplation, and
Above all partial dictates disavow
Unequal love; how can we, at their hand,
For individual fate a gentler boon demand !
Childe Paddy parted from his father's cot;
It was not castle proud, nor palace high,
Extraneous symmetry here glitter'd not,
But turf-built walls and filth did meet the eye;
Loud was the grumph and grumble from hog-stye ;
Swans gleam'd not here, as on the Leman lake,
But goose and ducklings, famed for gabbling cry,
With quack, quack, quack, did make the roofs to shake,
Till in their utmost holes the wondering rats did quake !
He thought of father, whom he loved, and left;
He thought of mother, at her booming wheel ;
He thought of sister, of his care bereft,
He thought of brethren dear; and, to conceal
The endless pangs that o'er his brain did reel,
As through the vale bis pensive way he took,
For fear his onward purpose would congeal,
He sung, while pacing with right-forward look,
“ Sweet Kitty of Coleraine,” and “ Fair of Donabrooke !"
I rejoice that your prophecy, as to the popularity of Hogg's Tales, has been
abundantly verified. Natural power and genius will fight their way, in spite
of opposition, and “ disdainful of help or hindrance." I doubt not that his
better half has had a hand in the purgation of the new edition. Give my com-
pliments to him; tell him I shall never forget the kindness I experienced at
Eltrive Lake; and, above all, ask him how he likes the following stanzas, the
opening of a ballad, as long as “ Kirkmabreck," that celebrated modern Timon,
or rather she-Timon, or woman hater.
Theyre wals ane Brounie offe mucle faime
Thatte ussit too cumme too ane aulde fairme housse,
Ande evir the maydes fro theyre beddes came,
Alle theyre werke wals dune, soo cannye and douce.
The cauppis wure cleanit; the yerne wals spunne,
Ande the parritche aye maide forre the oulde guidman,
The kye wure milkit, the yill wals runne,
Ande shininge lyke goude wals the ould brasse pan.
Ande mickle they wonderit, and mair theye thocht,
But neivir ane wurde too theyre minny spake theye,
Theye lukit aye too the braas theye hadde cofft,
Too buske theyre hayre, and to maike theme gaye.
• It was first written “ Childe Raddy,” but I was afraid of angering the Scotsman.
M.O.


138
Familiar Letter from the Adjutant.
[May,
Then outte spake Jennye, the youngeste ane,
“ I'm shure to mye Jocke itte wull gie delyghte,
Ande maike the laddye a' fidginge faine,
Too see the luffes offe mye handes soe whyte."
Thenne outte spake Kirstene, as doune she satte
Before the glasse toe kaim herre hayre,
“ Oh ! luke," quoth she, “ I amme gettinge soe fatte,
Thatte I offe idlesse muste beware.
“ The neiburs theye wille kenne noe mee,
Forre I'm scrimply aible to gaung aboutte,
Iffe I gette on soe, ye wulle brieflye see
A hurlye cofft toe carrye mee outte," &c.
Speaking of Wordsworth, what is he dreaming about? The published part
of the Excursion does not extend to a week, and we have had no mure of it
for the last seven years; if the poet's life and peregrinations are to occupy an
equally proportionate space, published at the same distance of time, the world
may expect to see the conclusion of the work at much about the same time
when Blackwood's Magazine intends retiring from public notice, that is to say,
somewhere about the year 2000. The following is a small portion of a fifty
page episode. It is entitled
THE KAIL POT.
If e'er, in pensive guise, thy steps have stray'd
At eve or morn, along that lofty street,
Yclept the Canongate, exalt thine eyes,
And lo! between thee and the azure sky,
Dangling in negro blackness beautiful,
A kail pot hangs, upon an iron bar
Suspended, and by iron chains hung down.
Beneath it yawns a threshold, like the den
Of Cacus, giant old, or like the caves
Of sylvan satyrs in the forests green;-
There enter, and, amid his porter butts,
In conscious wisdom bold, sits Nathan Goose,
Worshipping the muses and a mug of ale !
Sweet are the songs of Nathan Goose, and strong,
Yea! potent is the liquor that he sells ;
On many a cold and icy winter night,
When stars were sparkling in the deep blue sky,
Have, circling round his board, a jovial throng,
Tippled until the drowsy chime of twelve.
Strange has it seem'd to me, that we, who breathe
Vapours, as watery as the cooling drops
Of Rydal Mere, should drink combustibles,
And perish not; yet, thereby, of the soul
The cogitations are disturb'd; its dreams
Are hollows by reality and time
Fulfill’d not, and the waking spirit mourns,
When shines the sun above the eastern sea,
The ocean seen from Black Comb's summit high,
And throws his yellow light against the pane
Of chamber window,-window deep embower'a
With honey-suckle blossoms ;-o'er the wrecks
Of such fantastical, and inane stuff,
Shadows, and dreams, and visions of the night.
Then follow headaches dreadful, vomitings


1921.
Familiar Letter from the Adjutant.
189
Of undigested biscuit, mingled with
The sour and miserable commixture of
Hot aquavitæ, with the mountain lymph,-
If city water haply be so call’d, -
The lymph of Fountain-well, hard by the shop
Where seeds and roots are sold, above whose door
The black-eyed eagle spreads his golden wings.
Hard is the lot of him, whom evil fates
Have destined to a way of life unmeet:
Whose genius and internal strength are clogg'd
By drudgery, and the rubs of common men.
But I have gazed upon thee, Nathan Goose,
Gazed on the workings of thy inward soul-
Haild with delight thy planet in the sky,
And mid the constellations planted thee ? &c.
As you are one of the prime admirers of the Lyrical Ballads, as who, with the
sınallest pretensions to poetical taste, does not acknowledge most of them to be
extremely fine, and studded over with the very pearls of poetry,– I have co-
pied over for you a lyrical ballad of the true breed. I do not know but that you
will like it almost as well as the Waggoner, or Peter Bell.
BILLY BLINX.
I knew a man that died for love,
His name, I ween, was Billy Blinn;
His back was hump'd, his hair was grey,
And, on a sultry summer day,
We found him floating in the linn.
Once as he stood before his door
Smoking, and wondering who should pass,
Then trundling past him in a cart
Came Susan Foy, she won his heart,
She was a gallant lass.
And Billy Blinn conceal'd the flame
That burn'd, and scorch'd his very blood;
But often was he heard to sigh,
And with his sleeve he wiped his eye,
In a dejected mood.
A party of recruiters came
To wile our cottars, man and boy;
Their coats were red, their cuffs were blue,
And boldly, without more ado,
Off with the troop went Susan Foy!
When poor old Billy heard the news,
He tore his hairs so thin and grey ;
He beat the hump upon his back,
And ever did he cry,
Ohon, oh me!- alas a-day!”
His nights were spent in sleeplessness,
His days in sorrow and despair,
It could not last—this inward strife ;
The lover he grew tired of life,
And saunter'd here and there.
« Alack,


140
Familiar Letter from the Adjutant.
СМау,
At length, 'twas on a moonlight eve,
The skies were blue, the winds were still ;
He wander'd from his wretched hut,
And, though he left the door unshut,
He sought the lonely hill.
He look'd upon the lovely moon,
He look'd upon the twinkling stars ;
“How peaceful all is there,” he said,
“ No noisy tumult there is bred,
And no intestine wars.”
But misery overcame his heart,
For all was waste and war within ;
And rushing forward with a leap,
O'er crags a hundred fathoms steep,
He plunged into the linn.
We found him when the morning sun
Shone brightly from the eastern sky;
Upon his back he was afloat-
His hat was sailing like a boat-
His staff was found on high.
Oh reckless woman, Susan Foy,
To leave the poor, old, loving man,
And with a soldier, young and gay,
Thus harlot-like to run away
To India or Japan.
Poor Billy Blinn, with hair so white,
Poor Billy Blinn was stiff and cold ;
Will Adze he made a coffin neat,
We placed him in it head and feet,
And laid him in the mould !
I dare say you will suppose that there is no end to my prosing. But hold
my pen !- For the present I am determined to have done. Aš to Southey,
Lamb, Milman, Croley, Shelley, Wastle, Wilson, Campbell, Hunt, Montgo-
mery, Bowles, Dr Scott, Frere, Rogers, Bloomfield, Herbert, Thurlow, Wil-
lison Glass, &c. you shall have more of them in my next; and meantime be-
lieve me, more than ever has been yet professed by
Yours, &c.
MORGAN ODOHERTY.
Coleraine, Red Cow Inn, April 30.
LETTER FROM DR PETRE.
Sir,
writers of that pestilent school. I have
In a letter written by me some time since learned, with unaffected pain,
ago, and which circumstances not ne- that they were written by Mr Lamb,
cessary to be mentioned, have made a gentleman whose avowed writings I
rather conspicuous, I had occasion to have always perused with the utmost
advert to a series of articles in a con- pleasure. I do not know anywhere a
temptible magazine, which were mark more delightful Tale than his Rosa -
ed by the signature Elia. I said that mond; and many of his smaller pieces
they were filled with unjustifiable per- abound with the most pathetic touches
sonalities, and applied to their writer of simple and natural beauty. Of his
the title of a “ Cockney Scribbler.” John Woodville, will you suffer me to
Such he appeared to me, from his speak in the language of an article,
style, matter, and connection with the which the wit of its gay, and the elo


1821.]
Letter from Dr Petre.
141
quence of its graver portions, render come from the author of Rosamond
the most attractive paper that has ever and John Woodville?
graced the pages of a magazine: “ This The society with which we mix,
little composition (Mr Lamb's trage- must gradually impart to us its tinge;
dy) glistens with the most vivid and and it is little wonder that the being
beautiful poetry-nature keeps giving bound up in the same cover with Haz-
hints of herself throughout all its litt, and others of that deplorable set
seenes-now in all that quaintness, of men, should contaminate. The very
which at that period of human life, perusal of their writings, unless it be
she more peculiarly loved—and now accompanied by any feelings but those
in that universal language, in which, of admiration, is noxious. “ The fly,”
without reference to time or place, she says old Herbert,
wantons forth in her strong and rejoi-
“ 'That feeds on dirt is coloured thereby."
cing existence there, passion is sim- Providence has indeed diminished their
ple as the light of day, or various as power of injury, by denying them ta-
the coruscations of the northern lights lent, and suffering them to fill them-
-there, truths so obvious as to com- selves with stupid and ridiculous va-
mon eyes even to seem dull and trivial, nity ; but if a gentleman should un-
become affecting-even sublime, by fortunately perunit himself to overlook
their connection with profoundest re- their glaring defects, and connect him-
flections, and most woful catastrophes self with them in any undertaking
—there, character apparently artless whatever, we must confess that they
and unformed, yet rises up like what still can injure, and only regret that
we see conflicting, suffering, enjoying their victim, insensible of his degrada-
dying, in this our every-day world— tion, should of necessity gradually sink
so that when all is shut up unostentati- to their level. It is the sad condition
ously at last, we feel the grandeur of of our nature; we are all docile enough
the powers, and the awfulness of the in imitating the wicked and depraved,
destinies of our human nature, in that whether in the real every day world,
simple picture of humble but high hu- or the world of authorship. So it is
manity, more mournfully and also more with Mr Lamb and the Cockneys; he
majestically than when the curtain falls allied himself to them“culpa vacuus,"
before the dead bodies of conquerors or (to use the words of Sallust) but it is
of kings."
to be feared, that unless he abandons
Agreeing with this eloquent tribute the disgraceful connexion, he will be
of applause on one of his works, and rendered“ quotidiano usu atque illece-
feeling a strong attachment to many bris facile par similisque cæteris;" and,
other of his performances, it was, as Í indeed, the symptoms of assimilation
said before, with unaffected pain I dis- are too manifest already.
covered that such an author was the There was a time when Mr Lamb
man, whose anonymous writings had was classed with nobler associates;
drawn from me so contumelious an men misguided indeed by the enthu-
epithet ; and I am still more sorry to siasm, which at the day not unnatu-
find that a more attentive perusal of rally seized upon the warm minds of
his magazine articles has only confirm- youthful poets, glowing from the con-
ed me in my opinion of their reprehen- templation of the visions of ideal per-
sible nature. Look, for example, at fection, the creatures of their vivid
his ribald treatment of G. D. (one of imaginations, and fresh from the per-
the most inoffensive men on the face usal of the inspiring writings of Greece
of the earth) of which, to be sure, he and Rome, while theywere not yet pos-
had afterwards grace enough to be sessed of experience sufficient to apply
ashamed; or turn (to take one in- with true philosophy the lessons of an-
stance out of a hundred) to his sneer tiquity to modern days. Anti-jacobin
on Middleton, Bishop of Calcutta, for as I am, and as I ever have been, and
his conduct in the Oriental Church, or trust ever shall continue, I wonder not
wade through the columns of mere in that such minds should have contem-
anity and very cockneyism, of which plated the beginning of the French
the paper on April Fools, in imitation revolution, with the feelings so di-
of the style of Rabelais, is a flagrant vinely painted by Wordsworth.
specimen, and seriously say, could you
« Oh ! times
have ever suspected this stuff to have In which the meagre stale forbidding ways


142
Letter from Dr Pelre.
(May,
Of custom, law, and statute, took at once as martyrs to their attachment to the
The attractions of a country in romance. interests of mankind ? That would be
** What temper at the prospect did degradation indeed : and, even in a li-
not wake
terary point of view, what a different
To happiness unthought of? The inert
figure would the name of Mr Lamb
Were roused, and lively natures rapt away!
make, were we parodying Mr Can-
They who had fed their childhood upon
ning's line, to rank him with his pre-
dreams,
The playfellows of fancy, who had made
sent friends, and class together
All powers of swiftness, subtility, and
Hazlitt and Janus, Webb and Lamb and
Co.
strength
-but why need I continue quotations
Oh! what a falling off is there, from
from a poem which is in the hands, Southey, Coleridge, Lloyd, to such as
and should be in the memories of all
these !
the readers in England ? While they
I am not so weak as to imagine that
were yet under the influence of the what I have said will have the effect
day-dreams, the witty muse of Can-
on Mr Lamb, which I desire ; but, I
ning sung of
trust, a sense of his own dignity will
« Southey and Coleridge, Lloyd and
sooner or later dissolve his partnership
Lamb, and Co."
with the Cockney brotherhood, and
in derision indeed, but who, nume that I shall see him einerge from the
rous as their aberrations of that period Slough of Despond, in which he is
were, would now be ashamed of being now overwhelmed, bearing
ranked with such master minds, even
- No token of the sable streams,
in derision? These gifted men have And mount far off among the swans of
Thames."
long since abandoned the unholy rank
for which they were too pure. Is it So much have I deemed it necessa-
possible that Mr Lamb still remains ? ry to say in my defence, for making
Is it possible that he can still hold come the charge on Mr Lamb which I did.
munion with men, who, after the un- I have only to add, because I under-
utterable horrors of the French revo stand there has been some absurd cri-
lution, after witnessing the succession ticism on the subject, that the name
of one set of blood-boultered villains I use is fictitious; that I am indebted
after another, chaunting the praises of to Mr North for my diploma of D. D.;
freedom, and enforcing its cause by the that those who object to so usual a
knife or the guillotine, until it ended practice, particularly in magazines,
in the sullen military despotism of a may go quarrel with Bentley for using
heartless and bloody usurper, can still the signature of Phileleutherus Lip-
hold up
that revolution as the strug siensis, or Dr Parr for using that of
gle of liberty, and these monsters, and Philopatris Varvicensis; and that, if
their iron-souled successor, asits cham- they do, I shall consider them to be
pions? Who can stigmatize those who exactly what they are, most superlative
overthrew that savage chief as tyrants, blockheads.- I am, &c.
and can mourn over his slavish satel-
OLINTHUS Petre, D. D.
lites, whose only merit was a blind and Trinity College, Dublin,
sanguinary obedience to his mandates, May 1, 1821.
CAROLINE MATILDA, QUEEN OF DENMARK.
Of all the accounts published by writ- for the tenderest sympathies of human
ers of various nations respecting the nature; and the Danes hailed her
unhappy fate of this queen, the follow- arrival with enthusiasm. But some
ing appears to me more affecting and wretches, headed by the queen dowa-
nearer the truth than any that has yet ger, regarded the beauteous Matilda
appeared in the English language. I with envious eyes. They could not
felt induced, therefore, to translate it, bear the lustre which she shed on
and trust that it may find a place in Denmark, and planned the most insi-
your excellent Magazine. It was writ dious cabals against her, because she
ten by Mr Augustus Mahlmann, a bade fair to gain the hearts of the peo-
German.
ple by her amiable disposition, at the
Queen Caroline Matilda arrived in same time that her mentalendowments
Denmark in the bloom of youth and could not but acquire a decided in-
beauty. She possessed a sou) formed fluence over the king. They soon suc-


1821.]
Caroline Matilda, Queen of Denmark.
143
ceeded in robbing her of the king's af- But Struensee, led astray by the fortu-
fections; they withdrew from her the nate turn his fate had taken, aspired
adıniration of the court, and even lost to higher objects. He rose from the
sight of the respect due to her exalted situation of body physician and lec-
rank. Thus, without a friend, without turer to the dignity of a cabinet mi-
a counsellor, surrounded by hateful nister ; he was ennobled, and obtained,
and despicable beings, Matilda had no- together with Mr Brandt, the title of
thing to oppose to her enemies but count. There can be no doubt, that
tears. Her heart felt no solace but in it was his serious intention to render
her tender care for her only and dearly Denmark happy. He possessed the
beloved child, the present king. When courage and acquirements necessary to
he was inoculated with the small-pox the purpose ; but he was destitute of
in the year 1770, she never stirred from political experience, and that provident
his bed ; she nursed him herself; the care which introduces the best mea-
tenderness of her maternal care would sures with as much caution and pre-
suffer no stranger to approach the dar- paratory management, as if they were
ling of her heart.
the very worst. With the precipitation
Struensee, the body physician, who and ardour of an enthusiast, he intro-
had, since the king's return from his duced reform into all departments of
last foreign travels, occupied one of the state. Salutary, however, as those
the first places among the favourites of measures were to the public, they pro-
the monarch, had performed the ope- ved oppressive to individuals, who, in
ration of inoculating the crown prince, consequence, became his most impla-
and he attended him during his illness. cable enemies. Struensee's administra-
Matilda, accustomed to be annoyed by tion lasted scarcely a year and a half,
all who possessed the favour of her but it is incredible what he effected
consort, had hitherto disliked Struen- in that short period. He changed the
see, although he had ever treated her entire system of foreign policy; he re-
with respect. But when the duties of scued the court of Denmark from the
his station brought him daily into the degrading dependence in which it had
queen's apartment, she became better been so long held by Russia, and es-
acquainted with him. Struensee pos- tablished a more intimate connexion
sessed a great mindandextensive know- with Sweden and France. Russia in
ledge, with high courage and resolution. vain tried all means to effect his ruin;
During the illness of the crown prince, but he displayed equal boldness and
he passed several hours daily with the resolution. of domestic affairs, the fi-
queen alone; and took occasion to ex nances particularly engaged his atten-
press his sympathy in her situation. tion, from the dilapidated state into
The queen, who had long sought a which they had been thrown by the
friend and a bosom into which she wasteful system hitherto pursued. He
could pour forth her sorrow, accepted retrenched the expenditureof the court,
the offers of his friendship, made him discontinued many pensions, abolished
her confidant, and obtained from him several public boards, disbanded the
the promise that he would counteract Life Guards, curtailed the privileges of
her enemies. Struensee kept his word. the nobility, did away many places of
He brought back the king to the em- the court, in short, he introduced eco-
braces of his consort, and young Count nomy, wherever it was practicable.
H***, who had been the chief cause But these measures, however excellent,
of the king's coldness, was removed. being so rapidly carried into execution,
His place was given to Mr Brandt, placed numbers out of employment,
Struensee's friend. This first step deci- and raised enemies against their author
ded every thing. The king being gain- among all classes of the people. Dis-
ed, it was easy to remove all others, content became general, but Struensee
who had shewn themselves to be the still possessed sufficient energy and
queen's enemies, and to give to her boldness to dety all his enemies. Fate,
own and Struensee's friends all the it would seem, was unwilling to permit
influence that could be desired. If his downfall, before he had carried a
matters had gone no farther, the horri- great and beneficent measure into exe-
ble catastrophe, which effected the ruin cution—the abolition of vassalage. The
of Matilda, and stained the soil of lands were granted to the peasantry in
Denmark with the blood of two inno- possession, and the industrious portion
tent men, would never have occurred. of the people were relieved from a yoke,
VOL. IX.
S


144
Caroline Matilda, Queen of Denmark.
(May,
under which they had hitherto groan- she found herself robbed of the love of
ed-personal service was placed with a nation by whom she had once been
in moderate bounds. The establish- idolized. Struensee's courage failed
ment of the liberty of the press was him; an oppressive anguish bowed
the most inconsiderate of Struensee's down his mind, and deprived him of
measures; this was putting the readi- all energy of action. He threw himself
est instrument into the hands of his at the queen's feet, he poured forth the
enemies to enrage the whole nation agonies of his soul, he begged permis-
against himself. The first works that sion to leave a country where he was
appeared under the protection of the surrounded by an innumerable host of
liberty of the press, weredirected against enemies, and where a dreadful fate
Struensee. Every day satires and li- seemed to lead him on to a most wretch-
bels were put forth. At first he re ed end. He pointed out to the queen
garded these publications with con- that the same danger impended over
tempt. But when his enemies, in con- her, and that his dismissal would af-
sequence, grew bolder, and not only at- ford the only means of escaping it. But
tacked him, but even the king and the all in vain; his solicitationis produced
queen, in the most abusive terms, si no effect on the queen's heart, she pos-
lence became no longer possible, and sessed a bolder spirit than he. She
severe penal laws were enacted to put endeavoured to tranquillize his fears,
an end to such nuisances. From this she begged him so stay, she conjured
moment Struensee's fall may be dated. him, she even threatened him. The
The writings, which had appeared unfortunate Struensee yielded, he be-
against him had opened his eyes to the held tremblingly his approaching fate,
number of his enemies and to their and staid.
malignity; he saw himself and the The plans of the queen dowager and
court exposed to the scorn of the mob. her creatures had attained maturity
In addition, a mutiny of the seamen soon after the commencement of the
took place. It was found necessary to year 1772. The regiment of Colonel
yield to their demands, and apprehen- Köller, the most determined enemy of
sions were entertained, that the exam- Struensee, mounted guard at the pa-
ple might occasion more scenes of a lace on the 16th of January. A ball
similar kind. Struensee's situation was at court fixed for the evening, facilita-
perilous, and he felt the danger. But ted the preparations making for the
an effectual resistance demanded all infamous enterprize of the conspira-
the energy of his soul, and that forsook tors.
him.
Trumpets and kettledrums ushered
To return to Matilda.—Levity and in the portentous day; Matilda, una
indiscretion, the usual companions of a concerned, danced till midnight, not
careless and cheerful disposition, were at all surmising, that those were the
the only faults with which the young last pleasurable hours of her life. The
queen could be reproached. Friendship ball was over at about one o'clock. A
and gratitudeattached her to Struensee. deathlike stillness pervaded the palace.
The intimacy subsisting between the All slept save the conspirators, busied
queen and Struensee did not escape the in preparing the work of treason. The
Argus-eyed courtiers. Matilda was too clock struck three. They rushed into
frank to dissemble, her levity rendered the king's bed-room. The monarch
her unfit for intrigue, and Struensee was panic-struck, and the conspirators
was imprudent. Rumours were pro- terrified him still more, by fabricated
pagated among the populace, who de- accounts of a dreadful insurrection.
light in nothing so much as in listen- He was told that the populace were on
ing to tales of what passes within the the point of storming the palace, that
precincts of courts. These rumours the danger was most imminent, that his
gained importance by being repeated life was in jeopardy, and that he could
at the court of the queen dowager, only save himself by signing certain pa-
Matilda's most implacable enemy. Bý. pers presented to him. Under the first
means of the liberty of the press, these impressions of terror, the king seized
rumours were disseminated, and Ma- the pen, but threw it indignantly down
tilda was represented as the cause of when he discovered the name of his
all the oppressions which the people consort at the top of a page. The con-
endured. Her honour and her good spirators besieged him afresh--they
name fell a prey to her enemies, and painted his danger in frightful colours;


1921.)
Caroline Matilda, Queen of Denmark.
145
they declared him to be undone, unless the queen struggled and resisted, her
he subscribed; they urged, they be- danger adding to her strength. She
sought, they forced him. Overwhelm- struck the first officer down, who pre-
ed with agony, deprived by terror of sumed to lay his traitorous hands up-
his senses, the king signed the wretch- on her person. Several others then
ed orders for the arrest of his queen, fell upon her. In her despair she at-
Struensee, Brandt, and all his friends. tempted to throw herself out at the
Without waiting for the orders being window, but she was kept back. Her
signed, Colonel Köller had already strength was at last exhausted. The
hastened to Struensee's apartments. conspirators then dressed her quickly,
He pulled him out of bed, and treated and put her, deprived of all sense, in-
him with the coarsest brutality. The to a coach. A captain of dragoons,
unfortunate Struensee had not even with a drawn sword, seated himself
the presence of mind to ask for the or- beside her. What a ridiculous pre-
der for his arrest. A manly resistance caution against a defenceless princess
would have brought the officers stand, of twenty years! A subaltern, and one of
ing at the door into the apartment, and her majesty's chambermaids, occupied
the colonel, who had no written or the other places in the carriage, which
der, would have been unmasked.* Per- was surrounded by thirty dragoons. A
haps the whole enterprize might have second coach followed, containing the
been defeated, had Struensee shews infant Princess Louisa, with her nurse,
any presence of mind.
and a maid of honour. All possible
The most important part in this haste was made to reach the castle of
tragedy, the arrest of the queen, was Cronberg; The queen sat silent, and
committed to Count Ranzan and Co- lost in thought, near her inhuman
lonel Eichstadt. Accompanied by se- companions. But when she espied the
veral officers, they entered her Majes- fortress, she was roused to a sense of
ty's antichamber. Matilda awoke and her dreadful situation. “O, God! I am
called her waiting-women. Pale and undone !” she exclaimed. She fainted
trembling they entered, and informed away several times, and was carried up
her Majesty, that Ranzan wished to into an apartment, where she was pla-
speak with her in the king's name. ced in an arm-chair. The nurse car-
" Ranzan,” exclaimed the queen, “in ried her daughter, the Princess Louisa,
the middle of the night, in the name of to the queen, when the cries of the
the king!” She immediately sent a mes, child pierced her maternal heart. Ma-
sage to Struensee, but the waiting-wo- tilda experienced the comfort of the
man, in broken accents, told her ma- unfortunate--sheshed tears. She press-
jesty, that he was arrested. Dreadful ed the innocent babe to her heart, she
surmises of abominable treason now overloaded it with kisses, and drowned
took possession of Matilda's mind; “I it in tears. The holy feelings of ma.
am betrayed, I am lost, all is lost!” ternal affection outweighed the sense
she exclaimed, wringing her hands. of her fate.
But her composure returned in an in Nine commissioners were appointed
stant. “Let the traitors come in,” she to examine and try the prisoners in the
said calmly, “ I am prepared for the city. This was, however, merely done
worst.” She advanced to meet Ranzan, for form's sake; they had long ago been
as he entered. He read to her the condemned. Considerable time elap-
king's order, to which she listened sed in the making out of the indict-
with composure. She then took the ment, the counts of which were mul-
order herself, read it, and threw it tiplied as much as possible, one being
with contempt at Ranzan's feet. “The more absurd than another. The two
king's weakness has been abused," she partners in misfortune, Struensee and
said, “ such orders are not to be obeyed Brandt, were at last broughtforth from
by a queen.” Ranzan ventured to threa- their horrible dungeons, tin which they
ten ; but the queen treated him with had languished for many weeks. Load-
the most sovereign contempt. He thened with fetters, they appeared before
became exasperated, and beckoned his the tribunal of their enemies. Misfor-
officers. They employed force, but tune had cowed the heart of Struen-
Colonel Köller had told the officers of his regiment, that he had written orders from
the king. This assurance induced them to embark in the enterprize.
+ Count Struensee having been confined above three months, when he first came out,
though in view of a terrible death, exclaimed, " () what a blessing is fresh air."-
Floward's State of Prisons, Vol. I, p. 77.


146
Caroline Matilda, Queen of Denmark.
(May,
see; he appeared to be bowed down, Schack then seizing her cold and trem
sinking under the pressure of his fate. bling hand, guided it, and thus at last
What a triumph to his enemies ! Sure- the name of Caroline Matilda appear.
ly he might have calculated, that he ed under the declaration, which her
had no chance of being spared, and enemies had dictated. The commis-
that his death had been irrevocably sioners left the castle, certain of being
determined upon. Yet he (my heart rewarded for their villainy at Copen-
revolts at what I am going to write hagen. When the queen recovered,
down) suffered himself to be terrified she was thrown into a state which
by threats, and to be inveigled by pro- might have excited apprehensions for
mises, into a scandalous confession, re- her life, if any person had still felt any
specting his intercourse with
the queen. concern for the life of the unfortunate
Let those who can, pardon him. But sufferer.
every manly heart must despise him. Mr Uldahl, king's counsel, was
With a 'composure of deportment charged with the defence of the queen.
befitting a queen, Matilda received the This was, however, an empty form.
commissioners, who arrived at Cron- Mr Uldahl made, indeed, a most mas
berg on the 9th of March, for the pur- terly defence. He proved, to a demon-
pose of examining her majesty. She stration, how little regard could be
replied with brevity, precision, and dig, paid to the declarations extorted, and
nity, to all the questions put to her, surreptitiously obtained, from Struen-
however cunningly they were turned, see and the queen. He pointed out
in order to ensnare her. The commis- with energy, how injurious the pro-
sioners at last came to that point in cess was to the king's honour, and
the accusation, on which the confes- made the most powerful appeals to the
sion of the cowardly Struensee had feelings of the judges ; but he failed
been extorted. Baron Schack Rathlon, in making any impression on these
the spokesman, read Struensee's decla- heartless, inexorable beings. On the
ration to the queen. She expressed 6th of April, the sentence of divorce
her doubts of the authenticity of the was pronounced, and on the 9th made
document, conceiving it impossible, known to the queen. She was alto-
that Struensee should have behaved gether exhausted by grief and suffer,
with such meanness; she denied every ings, and heard it with calm resigna-
thing. “Then is Struensee a most abo- tion.
minable calumniator," replied Schack; The 25th of April, 1772, is a day
“ he deserves the severest punishment inscribed in the annals of Denmark
for having thus offended majesty; an with the blood of two innocent men.
ignominious death must expiate his Sentence of death was then passed on
crime.” These words overwhelmed the two Counts, Struensee and Brandt,
the unfortunate queen; she shuddered and put in execution on the following
at the thought of the execution of her day. With heroic courage, and a lofty
friend. Honour, pride, and regard con consciousness of his innocence, Brandt
tended for mastery in her noble heart; mounted the scaffold. He displayed
and they triumphed. She asked, “Will the greatest composure, while he suf-
the unfortunate Struensee obtain for- fered his right hand to be cut off ; and,
giveness, if I admit the truth of his without heaving a sigh, he laid his
declaration.” Schack, with a friend- head on the block. Struensee was ex,
ly mien, gave her to understand, that ceedingly pusillanimous; it was found
he would probably be pardoned; she necessary to hold him by the hair, in
then sacrificed to the object of her order to inflict the mortal stroke.
regard, who had acted so unworthily, Since the publication of her sen-
her honour, her good name, all, ai, tence, Matilda had been treated more
only that she might save his precious leniently. The triumph of her ene,
life. She signed her name. But shę mies was complete ;—what more could
had not finished the word Caroline, they wish for? The English mini-
when she looked up and beheld the ster, Keith, who had, with praisewor.
unmasked monsters sitting before her, thy zeal, interested himself in behalf
with greedy, scornful, and mischie- of the unfortunate sister of his sove-
vous looks, tracing the lines of her pen. reign, was accordingly permitted to
“ You deceive me infamously," she visit the queen, that he might consult
exclaimed, suppressing her breath and with her majesty upon her future
attempting to get up; but, unable place of residence.
to stand, she fell motionless back. On the 27th of May, two English


1821.]
Caroline Matilda, Queen of Denmark.
frigates and a sloop of war arrived off her, within the walls of which her de-
Elsinore. On the 30th, the queen left serted child wept, seeking its mother.
the castle of Cronberg. The last mo. On the following day, however, a fair
ments proved the most painful to her. breeze enabled the English vessels to
She was now to part with the only come set sail. Matilda stood on the quar-
fort in her misfortune, the dearest ob- ter-deck, and beheld, slowly receding
ject of her affections,-her beloved from her view, the land which she had
daughter. And she had to leave her once entered as a queen, and now left,
Louisa, alas ! in the midst of her ene- depressed by the most heart-rending
mies,-in the midst of those very per- anxieties, and overwhelmed with un-
sons who had so dreadfully illtreated merited sufferings. The English ships
the mother. Matilda was going away, sailed for Stade, whence Matilda pro-
when the child cried.She flew back, ceeded to Zell. She resided there for
pressed the little darling to her ago, the space of three years, in the most se-
nized bosom ;-but she had to tear her- cluded retirement, only occupied with
self loose again-yet could not! Lin the recollections of her tenderly beloved
berty beckoned her onwards,-mater- children, whose portraits she had recei-
nal affection called her back : her heart ved from Copenhagen. She was attacked
bled,-her tears gushed in copious with a violent complaint, which a con-
streams! At length she was led away stitution, impaired by intense suffer-
almost by force.
ings in mind and body, could not re-
Every thing seemed to conspire to sist, and she died in the twenty-third
aggravate the agonies endured by the year of her age, lamented by all Eu-
unhappy Matilda on leaving Denmark. rope. The account of her death reach-
A contrary wind prevented the Eng- ed Copenhagen on the day when a ball
lish vessels from sailing, in consequence at court had been fixed for the even-
of which the wretched princess had in ing. But it was not deferred; nor did
view, for a whole day, the country in any person deplore her death. The
which she had been subjected to mi- Crown Prince only was put into slight
series beyond the power of language mourning.
to describe: The fortress lay before
F.
TWILIGHT MUSINGS.
How beauteous is this summer eve !
Remote, upon the western sky,
The sun declines; and round him weave
The clouds, a gorgeous canopy.
From fragrant fields, and pastures nigh,
With gentle murmur comes the breeze,
Just kissing, as it passes by,
The shutting flowers, and leafy trees;
A twilight gloom pervades the woods,
Through all their blue-grey solitudes.
And all is still-except the lay.
Of Blackbird, from the neighbouring grove,
Clear hymning forth the dirge of day,
In tones of warm, spontaneous love.
And 'tween its margents, flower-inwove,
The stream that gently murmurs on;
Or rustle of the grass, above
The crimson-tinged sepulchral stone;
The shadows of the church profound,
O'erspread the eastward burial ground.
How beauteous !-but, more beautiful,
The days of vanish'd years awake,
In burning tints, that render dull
The charms of sky, and wood, and lake.
Though far remote, yet I can slake
At memory's fount my burning thirst,
And feel, no spells on earth can break
The idol form I worshipp'd first;
No second ties of love impart
Such rapture to the vacant heart!


148
Twilight Musings.
[May,
The moon is upa lovely night!
A lovely night of former years;
So fair the landscape, that its sight
Makes gentle eyes o'erflow with tears ;
The form, that by my side appears,
Is all my own; a happier lot
Ne'er came to quench a lover's fears,
Or render blest a poet's thought;
The sum of earthly witcheries
Beside me, and before mine eyes !
Then would we roam, and listen there,
Afar the watch-dog's sullen bay,
And sounds that, floating on the air,
Told peace was near, and man away ;-
The small bird startled from the spray,
Half slumbering ; the resounding woods;
The ocean murmur from the bay;
And inland hum of tumbling floods !
The Star of Love, with quiet eye,
Smiled down upon us from the sky!
The moon shone o'er us, as we stray'd,
And I have gazed upon the face,
Where, gently lined, its beams betray'd
A wilder, and more winning grace.
I turn'd from life,--that idle chace
For fleeting joys, and empty good,
And felt that all, in Hope's embrace,
Was at my side in solitude;
Dove ot' my Ark! that still would’st fiee,
To bring joy's olive bough to me!
Years came, and went, and saw us such,
And day succeeded day in bliss ;
Until our cup o'erflow'd too much
With good, for such a world as this ;
Were ours the pure, the guiltless kiss,
The ardent grasp of thrilling hand,
And all the thousand witcheries
That none, save lovers, understand
And which, like shot-stars in the main,
Once quench'd are ne'er beheld again!
Where are ye now, departed scenes ?-
A pictured leaf in memory's page !
No more your brightness intervenes,
Life's dreary dulness to assuage !
'Tis wonderful the heart can wage
With peace and joy eternal strife;
Yet, like the captive bird in cage,
Live onward to the dregs of life
Through years of being, wild and waste,
Like Dead Sea apples to the taste !
Yet, thus it is and 'mid the bowers
Where I, so blest, have roam'd before
Though all, except the summer flowers,
Are changed from what they were of yore,
I stray, and silently deplore,
That youth is like a running stream-
Love but a shade that stalks before
And life itself a waking dream!
We call on Pleasure and around
A mocking world repeats the sound !
8


1821.]
149
Biblical Sketches.
BIBLICAL SKETCHES.
No. IV.
THE DEATH OF ABSALOM.
The battle's voice waned fainter ; but the heath
Re-echo'd dismal to the groans of death ;
More wide the thinn'd and scatter'd legions roam,
More frequent gallops past the steed of foam ;
The fiery war-horse, labouring, and out-done,
His rider's faulchion glittering in the sun ;
The rebel host is broken ; and again
Proud Israel triumphs on the battle-plain!
The heart of Joab swell’d, elate to see
His plans successful, and the rebel flee!
He gazed around him from a central spot,
For Absalom he search’d, but saw him not ;
And, though the king had mandate given to spare,
His spirit yearn'd to find, and slay him there.
Fair was the son of David ; from his face
Beam'd princely majesty, and faultless grace ;
The paragon of men, erect and tall,
In lineament and form transcending all ;
Rapidly through the thick and shadowy wood,
Meanwhile, the prince, without a path pursued ;
Deep grief was in his eye; upon the wind
He heard the shout of foes that spurr'd behind ;
Just was his overthrow, severe, but just,
The doom that laid his impious schemes in dust;
And, as compunctious gnawings woke within,
He grieved o'er all his foolishness and sin !
More near the sounds approach'd; and faster sped
His jaded mule, where'er an opening led;
His helmet in the fray was lost, and now
His yellow tresses flutter'd o'er his brow,
And stream'd adown his back, now flow'd behind,
Now wanton'd forward in the casual wind ;
And now they twin'd around an oaken bough
Firmly-and gallop'd on the mule below;
Suspended there hung Absalom,--and near
Were none to rescue him-were none to hear !
Insulting triumph swells upon the gale,
And sternly now, encased in glittering mail,
Came bounding to the spot, in full career,
The victor Joab on, with forward spear;
“ Behold the rebel son,” elate he cried,
Then pierced his side, and smote him till he died !
Then Joab blew the trumpet-and around
Quick throng'd the warriors, summon’d by the sound;
Into a pit the noble form was thrown,
And ready hands piled o'er the frequent stone ;
But terror smote them, when the deed was done
They thought upon the sire-upon the son ;-
Compunction, like a spell, each bosom rent,
And, awe-struck, every warrior sought his tent.
A
No. V.
TAE OLIVE BOUGH.
THE dove flew east-the dove flew west
Found not a spot wherсon to rest ;


150
Biblical Sketches.
[May,
Beheld the waters far and wide
Outstretching, and on either side ;
Then backward to its prison fled,
With wearied wing, and drooping head.
And all was sad-o'er Noah's soul
Dejection's tide began to roll;
He gazed—and nought was seen around
But waters, and the skies that bound;
No island courted human foot,
And all was wild- and waste- and mute !
From Ararat's stupendous peak
Again the dove flew forth, to seek
A spot, a resting place of green-
At eve, returning she was seen
In joy—the olive bough did fill,
With glossy leaves, her little bill !
A ray of sunshine bursting bright,
When clouds are dark, with rosy light;
A flower of beauty, blooming forth
Amid the cold and snowy North ;
Of Hope a beaming, to beguile
Despair's worn features to a smile.
And Noah's heart, dilating, felt
Where sorrow reign'd, that pleasure dwelt;
And brooding visions died away,
And Darkness gave the reins to Day ;
And Hope did triumph, and Despair
No longer found a mansion there!
No. VI.
HAGAR IN THE WILDERNESS.
The sun was now declining on the sky,
The breeze was silent, and the sward was dry,
As Hagar, wearied out with travel, sate
Beneath an aloes, pondering on her fate ;-
A bow-shot distant, ’mid the shrubby wild,
Young Ishmael lay, a solitary child ;-
For, when her bread was spent, her cruise was dry,
The mother could not bear to see him die;
And, 'mid Beersheba's woods, that silent slept,
She lifted up her voice, and loudly wept !
Why doth she cease her wail,why start appall’d ?
Again it was a voice from Heaven that cali'd;-
“Hagar, arise !" the viewless Spirit said,
Forget your griefs, exalt your drooping head,
“And quench in joyfulness your low despair;
“ For God hath seen your griefs, and heard your prayer ;
“ The boy shall yet survive ; -a mighty race,
“Elate, from him, their origin shall trace;
“And wide-spread nations, touch'd with patriot fire,
“ Look back to him, and own him for their Sire !"
Joyful she rose; and, on her listening ear,
Broke the sweet sound of water murmuring near ;
She fill’d her thirsty cruise, and to the boy
Brought the cool beverage, with a mother's joy.
Awhile she watch'd, and wept, at length the streak
Of crimson play'd upon his lily cheek,
And life and sense returning to the child,
His bright black eyes he lifted up, and smiled!


1821.]
151
Sketches of Scollish Character. No. VI.
SKETCHES OP SCOTTISH CHARACTER.
No. VI.
« Parson Willy."
“What Gentleman' retired from city noise
“ Has made this neat snug country Box his choice?"
A gentleman indeed !" with knowing leer,
“Responds the Boy- no gentleman lives here.
“ This is the Manse,' and stavering o'er the dyke,
“ There comes - the Minister,' a surly tyke.”
Thus far the urchin--from our presence flew ;-
What follows next, we from his Mother' drew.
This Parson, în his years of student glee,
Whilst yet a Burgess' son of low degree,
Had pledged in mutual love, his hand and heart,
And played, through many a walk, the lover part,
From blooming hawthorn pluck'd the flower with care,
And fix'd the chaplet in his “ Jeanie's” hair
Borne her on beating breast o’er ditch and style,
Still answering squeeze with squeeze, and smile with smile.
Indited verses, full of groves and streams
Banks, linnets, stock doves, twilight, and moon-beams-
Lips, smiles, and blushes, dimples, cheeks, and eyes-
Hopes, fears, and wishes, palpitations, sighs-
Thisbes-Lavinias-Ariadnes fair,
With a whole host of és an is-were there.
The Magazine of words, wherewith 'tis common
To conquer into love-Man-trusting Woman.
“A Tutor” now, he seeks the western shore,
In Chieftain Hall, his fortunes to explore,
With Macs and Mothers holds incessant wier,
And leads a “ Tutor life" from year to year ;
Yet still the frequent letter, sent with care,
Bespeaks him to his “ Jeanie,” constant, there.
Meantime, o'er Jeanie's face the summer throws
The mingling colours of the blushing rose,
She ripens into woman-hood, and sees
An host of lovers, prostrate at her knees
Hears all the slang a Lawyer could advance,
But checks his “ too fimiliar" with a glance.
The Writer, favoured in his own belief,
She stops amidst his tale, and says, “ be brief;"
Th' Apothecary's Prentice pleads in vain,
She bids him take “ a doze”mato cure his pain,
And Lairds put on their boots, and mount their horses
And sport their spurs, and shake their heavy purses ;
Whilst English Riders turn aside to view her,
And try in vain, “ by coaxing,” to undo her:
Her heart is with her Willy-she can know
No greater bliss than Willy's love, below!
Her father is a Deacon, votes are sought
A Kirk is vacant-Kirks are sometimes got
By Deacon votes—and learn'd Professors too,
Have proved, at times, a Deacon's promise true.
Her Willy-Jeanie's Willy'!-comes at last,
And Jeanie's every care is overpast;
T
VOL. IX.


152
Sketches of Scottish Character. No. VI.
[May,
The Kirk her love secured him—it is clear
How Willy now his aftercourse will steer.
But Jeanie's face is alter'd, and her dress
Might suit a landry maid of “ guid Queen Bess."
Her father is a weaver, could there be
A Brute more vulgar, more uncouth than he;
And she a weaver's daughter-'Twill not pass,
A Minister to wed a Webster Lass!
There needs no further telling, all may view
Sweet Jeanie's grave beneath that weeping yew!
There needs no doleful weeping, all may see
A portion'd dame, where Jeanie hoped to be ;
There needs no sudden bolt that breast to sever,
For there the vulture conscience tugs forever.
God says,
6
Go speed thee to the mountain, “ Parson Willy,”
And court the solitude of glen and valley,
Adown the winding stream pursue thy way,
Where noon-day beams, midst dancing waters' play,
Profane the haunts of nature with thy tred,
At thy approach the mountain flocks have fled-
The Raven curses from his stunted tree-
The Wagtail, from his stone, denounces thee-
The Grass-hopper is mute at thy advance,
And Sunflies close their wings, and cease to dance ;
Whilst sight-revolting Ask, and crawling Toad,
All prematurely wake, and leave their sod !
Go with the trading mob commix, and try
To prig and cheapen, calculate and buy ;
Buy luck, and prosper-else thy traffic cease ;
“ diminish”- who shall say encrease ?"
Or should it suit thy whim, let garden care
Thy thoughts, thy labour, and thy leisure share ;
Dig with the mole, or rake the crumbled earth,
Give all thou canst—to Cabbages give birth ;
Or pausing o'er thy spade, thy Hives survey,
That pour their busy thousands on the day,
Peep through their windowed workshop, like a thief,
Descrying secrets, that exceed belief.
Thy plants shall wither, and the “ Grub" shall feed
On every garden leaf that springs of seed.
Thy bees in mortal combat shall contend,
And in moth-eaten wax-thy hopes shall end.
The festive board with viands fit is crown'd,
And company to suit thy taste is found;
A laughing, punning, beef-devouring squad,
With no great previous trouble may be had.
And Porter too has passed-the wine has fled,
For all the loyal toasts
are gone to bed.”
Amidst the tumult of succeeding mirth,
To which a bowl of whisky punch gives birth,
A thunder-peal of happiness ; 'tis thine
To own at every burst the curse divine;
To shrink into reflection's glazy stare,
And only seem, by starts, the glee to share.
Ascend the Pulpit steps, suspend thy hat,
Thy coat skirts see thou cress not, look to that.


1891.)
Parson Willy.
133
Turn up the Psalm-book knowingly, and then
Give us with emphasis King David's strain ;
Psalm eighty-eight, or ninety-four will do,
Secure to find in each, a curse or two.
Then follow up with prayer, in composition,
All dove-tailed in, from praises to petition,
Neat scripture phrases, polish'd up so nice !
Nor word nor sentiment repeated twice.
Breathe Moderate doctrine next-all stilly, sweet,
To lull the conscience into rest were meet !
But Conscience will not rest—'tis God's decree,
Like strong man from his cups, he'll dart on thee;
Within his giant clutch thy throat shall rattle,
What day he sallies forth and comes to battle.
Retired within thy study, take a chair,
Clear out the ribs, and sweep the hearth with care;
Then from thy shelves withdraw a volume fit,
With reason seasoned, or replete with wit,
Where'er thy humour haply chance to drift,
Or Watts, or Rogers, Rochester, or Swift ;
The death click stuns thy ear, the flame burns pale,
And full upon thee curves the candle spale.
The Fiend of recollection makes thee shiver,
The curse is on thee—“Thou art blasted ever!"
Domestic happiness, the balm of life,
And chief of all domestic joys—"& Wife,“
Combined with little Imps that love to chat
Of all they wish to know, or wonder at-
That speak their ignorance in sounds so pleasing,
That not their ceaseless questioning is teazing,
“ Papa" us when we come from kirk or fair-
Prepared a kiss, or market store to share ;
Such happiness belongs to men of truth,
Who kept the plighted promise of their youth ;-
Thine is the withered hope—the blasted tree
The blossom, where no fruit can ever be,
Domestic solitude, all drear, and lonely;
For ever thou art seared—“The curse is on thee.'
Ye Students, Tutors, lately fledged Divines,
Whose learning with your college“ suit" combines,
To fix the heart of woman-pause a while,
Nor yield you captive to each winning smile.
Time plays sad tricks—a Patron may be lost,
By foul caprice or death's dread message cross'd,
A kirk may cheat your grasp
from
year year,
Yet nearer still with every
Your taste may alter--rural Beauties may
Into mere country Bumpkins sink away.
But pledged and plighted once-Oh! let my tale
Your conduct guide your future peace avail,
Admonished thus, by - Parson Willy's” fate,
Avoid the error, ere it prove too late.
to
Shift” appear,


154
[May,
Sketches of Scottish Character. No. VI.
“ WILLY HERDMAN."
The Old Soldier.
Poor Willy Herdman, o'er thy Chilly Bier
Be mine, with bursting heart to drop a tear,
To sketch the features of thy harmless life,
Unstain'd by slander-undisturb’d by strife,
Thy very faults, not charity, would hide ;
“ And all thy failings lean'd to virtue's side.”
Whent Calpe stood a tower of frowning rock,
And of united squadrons braved the shock
'Twas thine, poor Soldier, of unnoticed namne,
To speed the fiery bolts of Britain's fame,
By pity led, through hissing waves to go,
And from surrounding ruin wrest a foe;
In his own spite the thankless wretch to save,
And bear him, murm'ring curses, from the wave.
It has been remarked, that Anglers are, in general, good-natured and cheerful, and
we believe there is a great deal of truth in the observation ; but it remains for us to add,
that they are likewise not a little given to “ Amplification.” An inexperienced hand,
indeed, is less addicted to the influence of this figure of speech, as his want of address in
the sport being known, few will credit his stretches : and a very skilful fisher, such as
Willy, has no reason for attempting the production of astonishment by any accounts
wide of, or beyond the truth. But there lies betwixt these two extreme boundaries, an
extensive common, occupied by a vast variety of every-day, or common-rate Anglers,
who, because they are just within the precincts of the credit, draw pretty largely upon
the credulity of others. Such fishers are always sure to hook Trouts of a most interest.
ing and uncommon size, which, as usual, after a certain amount of capers and bounds,
effect their escape. These feats, too, are related with all the circumstantiality of truth.
" It was on such a day of a certain month, and under a peculiar aspect of sky and
cloud, that the miraculous event took place. The line had been so many times laid
across the stream, or pool, without effect--when, on the last throw which was meant to
be made, the hook is suddenly nailed to the bottom-a pull is made, and, to all appear.
ance, you are immoveably fastened upon a rock, or sod. But all at once, and with an
astonishing power, the monster takes the flood—makes directly for the deep water, and
drags you, without the means of safe and successful opposition, along with him. The
pool is so immensely deep, that the top of your rod is brought into contact with the wa.
ter. He travels you along, in sublime smoothness, from one dark and retired recess to
another—your line cutting the water like a razor-at times, however, he moves his head
till your rod trembles in your hand ; tired at length, however, out of all his depths, he
dashes furiously out to the lower extremity of the pool, shews fin and spot, shoulder
and tail, at the water top, takes two or three most astonishing springs, snaps your line
in two, and tumbles side foremost down, with a plunge into the next gullet!"
* Obstui.
pui steteruntque," &c. &c.
+ Gibraltar, at the siege of which Willy lost a finger. He used to entertain me, on
our way to and from the fishing," with anecdotes concerning this memorable defence.
e. g. “ The dreadful red-hot ball firing from the Castle had just commenced ; Elliot
was employed in viewing through a telescope the effects which his pills,' as he term-
ed them, had upon the stomach of the enemy, whilst á soldier stood near him, in the ato
titude of Atlas, with his face turned upwards, emptying, through the bung-hole into his
stomach, the remains of a keg, or cask of rum, almost the sole subsistence of the garri-
son at the time. In the same instant, the General's telescope, and the soldier's cask were
carried off by a ball, or splinter, but without injury to either individuals. They stood
for a moment eying each other with something of that expression which a Priest of the
Greek church exhibits, when the Lord has taken one of the children he is baptizing
under the ice of the Neva · to himself.' • Blast my eyes, an't please your honour !
exclaimed the enraged soldier at last, but these fellows have more impudence than good
manners, by half;' and away he swung in full drive to his gun, to be revenged,' as he
expressed it, upon the mannerless Rascals, who could interrupt gentlemen at their
studies !'"


1821.3
Willy Herdman.
155
But Peace returning, with her smiling train
Of joys domestic, sene thee home again;
Gave thee thy hours in peaceful arts to pass,
Nor grudged to soldier old the soldier's glass.
What pleasure mine, with truant step to stray
At rising morn, by streamlet far away,
With thee at noon, our finny dead to tell,
Amidst the solitude of mountain dell!
What transport mine, by cooling fount to lie
Beneath the balmy breath of summer sky,
From pocket stored the oaten feast to bring,
And quaff the nectar of the neighbouring spring.
Hail blessed days! and still more blessed joy,
That sooths the cares of manhood, leads the boy,
With beating, glowing, panting, heart to view
The mountain spret, empearled o'er with dew;
That to the banks of some far winding stream,
Where live the dancing waters in the beam
Of summer sunshine ;-draws his steps away
From school-boy revelment, and harsher play,
To solitude and God, attunes the heart,
And nerves the boy to act the manly part !
Hail blessed source of innocence and health !
Though oft the fishing hour was gain'd by stealth,
Though Horace sung, and Livy pled in vain,
In storied page, and heart-assailing strain,
Though many a blow incurr’d, compelled a tear;
Yet still thou wert, and ever shall be, dear.
And He shall live within my heart for aye,
Who stole of yore my truant steps away,
Taught me to know the seasons and the place,
To wile with practised skill the finny race,
What flies to choose, and how the bait prepare
Where fish withi hurried step, and when with care
What tempting pools to pass, and where to try
The rushing gullet, with discerning eye
Who taught me all the secrets of his art
Shall live for ever in my grateful heart.
The
wager
laid, “ a friend” his word had given,
Though o'er the “ pools” the heaping drift was driven,
That “ Trouts” should grace his board“ on New-year’s-day,"
And Willy sped to gain the bet-away
To dark recess, and many a boiling wiel,
And brought “ a dinner dozen" in his creel.
But oh the night was foul! in wintry air
Sat high enthroned the Demon of despair.
Ill-fated Willy left a friendless door,
“ Full half-seas over,” to return no more!
From social board he sought his homeward way,
Choaked by the drift, a bleaching corpse he lay!
His be the curse of blood-avenging heaven,
Destruction's plough-share o'er his roof be driven,
His “ Bacon" soul by every hook be rent,
And all his menial crew to h-11 be sent;
On passing winds the dying cries who knew,
Nor through the drifting death with timely succour flew.


156
[May,
Sketches of Scottish Character. No. VI.
PREACHER GEORDY."
Poor forty years“ a preacher child of want,"
Fit emblem of the church itinerant ;
Where may'st thou lodge, this night of cold and sleet ?
Within what Parsonage hast thou a seat?
In all thy yearly Circuit, where thy home,
For many preaching Sabbaths yet to come
Dost thou with fiddle* on thy back, essay
Through Moffat-dale, thy ministerial way
y?
Or by the banks of Nith's transparent tide,
'Midst noisy Parson progeny, abide?
Essay thy fiddle, jealous of thy skill,
Eye all the circle round, and blunder still?
By Gallovidian coast-dost thou display
Thy musket shoulder'd in a martial way,–
To quell the Radicals thou dared before,
When faction braved the throne in ninety-four ? -
Or haply, hast thou found a friend and chair,
Fast by the wooded banks of " bonny Ayr?”
I hear thee, Geordy-yet, in mem'ry's ear,
Thy loyal Sabbath rhapsodies I hear ;
Even in thy prayers; the kindling accents fall
In curses on the factions, one and all.
“ They're not contented, Lord, to vend their ware
“ Through all the tainted towns of Lancashire,
“ But down to Scotland they in troops repair,
“ And spread along our peaceful loyal coasts,
“ Defiling caterpillars-vile locusts.
“ I'm even told they've sped their doctrines hither
“ Good Lord, in wrath, confound them altogether!"
Oh, Loyalty, no virtue is more fair,
No flaw deformity, when thou art there ;
Thou givest more than Horace ever said,
Her all-supplying queenship, money did!
But then thou hast an eye-and thou canst know
Where to withhold, and where thy gifts bestow.
To aid poor Geordy, who has need of aid
To clothe the naked, who in rags are clad
To pension off the fatherless and poor,
Were waste of favour-" Impotence” is sure !
Yet once I knew a loyalist so poor,
His utinost efforts could not bread secure ;
• Geordy, if the following anecdote is to be credited, is not the only brother of the cloth
addicted to the bow and the string. “A Clergyman was returning home early upon
the Sabbath morning, from
where he had supped, and amused the party, du-
ring the evening, with a tune on his own fiddle. The profane instrument had been packed
up beneath his coat as decently as possible; and he was on his way down Walk,
some time about one o'clock in the morning, when he encountered a party of jolly tars,
quite in the humour for frolic and mischief. Having, in the course of a few friendly sa-
lutes upon the back and shoulders, come into close quarters with the lurking instru-
ment, one of them instantly gave the signal of information ; a search ensued, the fiddle
was detected and
produced, and, in spite of all remonstrance, played upon too, to the
tune of • Jacky Tar,' till the party were tired dancing. The frolic being accomplished,
the performer was dismissed with many benedictions, and a handsome remuneration in
money, to boot. This money, the highly-respectable clergyman (still alive,) very natu-
rally slipt into the plate in passing, in the very same day, to the pulpit, and made his fa-
mily merry at the recital of the anecdote in the evening."


1821.)
Preacher Geordy.
157
He tried, “ the Member" tried each neighbouring laird,
To write the Minister,-but no regard
His long memorials and his prayers procured ;
Yet still he wrote, and still his wants endured
At length resolved, with one bold bound, to go
Straight to the throne, and all the utmost know,
He penn'd a letter, spelt and pointed tight,
Directed “ To the King," to read at sight,
“ Expressly private,” travell’d the address,
And who might dare to open an express ?
And now, within the Kirkgate of Dumfries,
He lives on “ ten good yearly pounds!" in peace.
Then, Geordy, take the hint-thy claims evince,
And lay thy grievances before thy Prince;
Within his breast a sire's heart abides,
No poorer can’st thou be, whate'er betides.
“ JUVENALIS JUNIOR."
“ ADDITIONAL NOTICES OF GEORDY."
It is scarcely possible to strike out a ted his revolution in twelve months
full-length likenessof
Geordy in rhyme; was a subject of science, rather than
we shall therefore throw into more ac- of philosophical conjecture, through all
commodating prose, and into the past the parts and portions of his circuit.
tense, what we ourselves know, and Each clergyman he honoured with a
what amongst the clergy of the south visit, could sit down quietly by the
of Scotland
is pretty generally known, side of his parlour fire, and, from the
of this odd, but very inoffensive cha- day of the month, calculate at least
racter.
within a Sabbath, Geordy's approach.
Geordy moved like the great plane. This habit of regularity contributed
tary bodies, to which, in some other greatly to render him so generally ac-
parts of his accessories, and in particu- ceptable, for, when Geordy was expect-
lar, in respect of " Inhabitants,” he ed on Saturday, Matthew Henry, and
bore a striking analogy, in an orbit, Dr MacKnight, were permitted to re-
or epilepse, of which the cent point pose, for that week, at least. At times,
lay somewhere betwixt Leadhills and however, from some cross and counter-
Wanlockhead. Starting at Edinburgh, acting attractions, which did not en-
he took his way southward as far as ter into the general average of allow-
Peebles, and then crossing over by ances, Geordy was a week too late in
Moffat, Dumfries, Castle Douglas, and making his appearance
and once out,
Kirkcudbright, he was in full southern always
out—so that, through the whole
Apogee, when lodged with his wor« remaining portion of his orbit, sad de-
thy and venerable namesake, the late rangement took place. “ Cauld kail
Dr Coulter, minister of Stranraer. were het o'er again,” which did not ex-
Here, as might naturally be anticipa- actly agree with the stomach of hear-
ted, the rapidity of his motion was con ers; severe colds were perceived, from
siderably decreased, and he generally frequent coughing in the pulpit, and sud-
sojourned not less than a month or six "den indisposition was experienced out
weeks in Stranraer and at Old Luce, of it. There was nothing but riding
Through Ballantrae, where
and running from one parish to another,
6 Stinchar flows 'mang muirs and mosses in quest of “ exchanges,” even so late
mony 0;"
as ten o'clock on the Sabbath morn-
by Girvan and Maybole, he arrived at ing. One clergyman lost his character
Ayr, where his residence, being now in entirely with his parishioners, from
his “ Perigee,” was short, and, as he being compelled to®“ read;" and an.
himself used sometimes to express it, other, who had formerly been unpo-
unsatisfactory. From Ayr, he travel- pular from that habit, was raised, by
led by Irvine, Largs, Glasgow, La- means of an extempore address, to the
nark, to Mrs Wilson's, in the Grass- highest pitch of popularity. Lectures
market, Edinburgh, where he gene were delivered from six-and-forty ver-
rally remained dormant " for a sea- ses,-and sermons shot out into seven
son."
The period of his annual re heads and ten horns. One clergyman,
turn, for, like the earth, he comple, in particular, contrived to extend his


158
Sketches of Scottish Character. No. VI.
[May,
lucubrations to the ominous length of ingly, when Geordy took the road from
“ twenty-twoly," and yet he had only Edinburgh, the gude folks were admo-
exhausted twenty-one minutes three nished of the departure of winter, and
quarters. Another, after reading out the approach of spring. It was like
the first verse of his lecture,—" from the breaking up of the ice around the
the Second Epistle of Paul the Apostle coasts of Greenland,
-it was as if the
of Jesus Christ, addressed to the in- snow-drop had pushed up its virgin
habitants of Corinth, commonly, and innocence and purity through the hoar
in Scripture language, called the Co- frost. As he passed Peebles, the shep-
rin-thi-ans,” twice, yea thrice, very herds made arrangements for lamb-
leisurely over, was compelled to put time, and the magistrates began to
his handkerchief to his mouth, and sow peas. Moffat Well was regularly
to proceed thus :-“ The Apostle, my fitted out and cleared for summer use,
friends,—my friends, the Apostle, and the road to it new sanded and
the Apostle, my friends, means,-he edged with turf from Etrickstane, on
means in the verse which has just his arrival at the Manse.
been read in your hearing,—the A At Bruce's own" guid Town,” the
postle means to explain-indeed does ancient Burgh of Lochmaben,” the
he; and now let us pass on to the Magistrates were chosen, and “God's
next verse.” A third clergyman, who Vengeance” * proclaimed free to all on
had been recently married, felt the his entry. The Farmers in the immen
awkwardness—we suppose of his si- diate neighbourhood of Dumfries set
tuation in the pulpit, so much, that he up scare-crows amidst their new-sown
absolutely fainted outright, and lifted grain, and shot hedge-sparrows, as an
up his eyes from the surface of a grave- antidote against their breeding on his
stone, upon the well known phisiogno- approach. The servant girls around
mies of his own elders, his Wife ha- Castle Douglas were seen by the way-
ving been previously borne off in hyst- side as Geordy moved on, extracting
erics. It is scarcely possible for any with great labour, and little success,
one who is uninitiated into the mys- thistle from their thumb-balls. At Kir-
teries of“ Preaching," to conceive the cudbright turnips were sown, and ро-
quantity and extent of derangement tatoes planted, and at Stranraer again,
which such a rare, and therefore un- the same crops were drill-harrowed, and
foreseen occurrence produced. But howed under his auspices-“ Auspice
though inconveniences,such as we have Geordy,”—at Ballantrae, the grain,
stated, -resulted unavoidably from such as it was,+ began to whiten, and
an occasional deviation, these were un- Girvan, Maybole, and Ayr, saw the
questionably more than counterbalan- reaping fairly begun-All was not right
ced by the benefit derived from the ge- at Glasgow, if the harvest were not fi-
neral law of revolution. In those dis- nished, and the West India fleet arri-
tricts through which the line of his ved, ere Geordy left them. The falls at
movement lay, the inhabitants were Lanark echoed hisapproach in the Mar-
enabled to make arrangements accord- tinmas flood, and the Grass-market
ingly. The Ancients looked at the again felt his arrival in a cold east wind,
bearing of particular stars, or constel- with occasional snow. It is not, how-
lations, for direction in sowing and ever, merely because he travelled and
planting. Some families in Scotland preached, that we have thus ventured
have been known to hang on their din- to introduce him to the notice of our
ner potatoes to boil, by the passing of a readers, numerous, intelligent, and not
Divinity student on his regular and a little fastidious as they are. Geor-
daily visit to Iris mistress. Accord- dy had not only locomotive and orato-
. This is an allusion to Geordy's far-famed Prayer for the Magistracy of Lochmaben.
-“ Lord,” said he, “ remember the Magistrates of Lochmaben, such as they are."
+ Vendace and Dicu.--Vendace, pronounced “ God's vengeance." A species of fish
so called, found in one of the numerous Lochs which surround the burgh; and if we
may credit the report of the Town Council, with the exception of some lake “ far
abroad," and one in the Highlands,- found no where else. It is reported of this delicate
und singular fish, that when conveyed to any other of the lochs, or even when removed
to another quarter of the same loch, it either can not, or will not, survive the expatria-
tion. The same story is told about the removal of serpents, and other venomous animals,
to Ireland. "Twere well for Scotland, and some other quarters of the world which shall
be nameless, were the compliment reciprocal.
5


1821.]
Preacher Geordy.
159
rial powers, but was, in the fullest and A pious old woman, who was sorely
in the best acceptation of the words, scandalized at this unclerical display
“ an odd character." His professional of military devotedness, took to her
ardour was of a peculiar description; staff, and, with her plaid drawn down
whilst he was decidedly enthusiastic over her forehead, that her eyes might
in inculcating what he termed moral no longer be contaminated with "see-
doctrine, he held “allhypocritical cant- ing,” was in the act of hitching slowly,
ing idiots," as he was pleased to desig- but quite resolutely, out at the church-
nate gospel and doctrinal preachers, door, when she was suddenly arrested
in complete contempt. He was a Mo- by a Gae wa', woman-mak haste,
derate man—that, indeed, is nothing and gae wa'-an' the country, as weel
uncommon. But then, what is not ge- as the kirk, war rid o' you, and the
nerally found under this variety of cle- like o' you, there wad be mair peace in
rical character, he was altogether an the land.—Gae hame an’birsela Manks
enthusiast, and entered with the same herring to your dinner, and that's the
ardour and animation into the relative best ' Frien' o' the people' I ken o'.”
duties of social and civil life, with Another of Geordy's peculiarities
which others generally discuss the consisted in his taste for music ; or,
higher and more interesting doctrines more properly, in his attachment to a
of the Cross. His preaching was a sys- most unseemly combination of wood
tein of scolding rather than of admo- and thairm, which he called a fiddle.
nition; yet there was so much truth With this companion, during the win-
and verisimilitude in what he said, ter evenings, he was in the habit of
that, whilst it sometimes excited á attempting to hold sweet converse ; but
smile, it seldom failed to carry con- it must be confessed by all who knew
riction, if not correction, along with the parties, there was nothing recipro.
it. If any of his hearers slept, or were cal in the intercourse ; for the more
apparently inattentive, he would not blandishment that Geordy called up
scruple to address them—and snuff- into his somewhat austere features, and
mills he held in utter abhorrence. No the more determined effort that he ex-
sooner did one of these make its ap- hibited from the shoulders downwards
pearance, in the shape of a ram's horn, even to the extremities of his fingers,
or tin-made pen-case, than he denoun- the louder, and the harsher, and the
ced it with his finger—“Put up your more lengthened, were the tones of
mill, honest man-e'en put it up; if oppression and murder, which were re-
ye war only as attentive to your souls turned to him. “The dying notes of
as to your noses, there wad be less a Sow under the hands of a Butcher,"
smuff-boxing amang ye.” On a frosty or the risping of a saw upon a rusty
Sabbath too, he compared his hearers nail, were really music in comparison.
to a “byng” of frosted potatoes ; as It was no small treat, and no uncom-
the spoiled, he very properly observed, mon occurrence, to see Geordy with his
were almost sure to vitiate the sound. fiddleunder,and his musket slungover,
This was his ordinary style of preach- his military coat, travelling along to-
ing, which, without any considerable wards his Sabbath destination, at once
aid from composition or taste, still made the Musician, the Soldier, and the Di-
a wonderful impression.
vine. From a consideration of this ra-
Another of his peculiarities consists ther incongruous combination of quali-
ed in the determined and almost out- ties in his character, several Clergymen,
rageous cast of his loyalty. Had he who had at one time countenanced him,
been requested by the king, or by his began latterly to scruple respecting the
ministry, to lay his head upon a block, propriety of giving hiin on Sabbath the
or to thrust his neck into the hang- use of their pulpits. But Geordy was
Inan's gravat, without hesitation Geor- too high-spirited to remain a depen-
dy would have complied. During the dant visitor where his Sabbath servi.
hazardous and turbulent period of the ces were not acceptable. The know-
Revolution in France, this spirit was ledge of this fact led many good-heart-
powerfully evinced. Having through cd Clergymen to permit him to preach
ihe friendly aid of some more wealthy to their
congregations long after they
brother possessed himself of an uni were fully convinced of the improprie-
form, he was enrolled into a Volun- ty of so doing. On one occasion he
teer corps, and was seen, even in the ascended the pulpit with the fiddle un-
pulpit, in this church militant garb. der bis arm, and very devoutly set about
Vol. IX.
Ư


160
Sketches of Scottish Character. No. VI.
[May,
aiding the Precentor, by means of the Geordy several rather convincing proofs
stringed instrument, in raising the of his innocence.-Geordy could never
tune. Observing some little tittering in hear even an allusion to this affair, with
the congregation, (for the vigilance of any degree of temper, afterwards.
his suspicion was unremitting,) he took But perhaps the most notorious, as
occasion in his prayer, where, as he of- well as the most truly ridiculous of all
ten said, he found himself least strait- his military achievements, took place in
ened—had most utterance-to express the immediate neighbourhood of a lit-
himself in these or the like terms tle romantic village in Galloway. Geor-
“ Good Lord, thy people—thine own dy had marched all day over that bleak
peculiarchosen people of old, were wont and dreary length of barrenness which
to praise thee with tabor, and with harp, separates Newton-Stewart from Glen-
and with sackbut, and with psaltery; luce, under the conviction that some-
and thy douce and loyal servants war where in the glen, near by the vil-
seen dancing, and skipping, and snap. lage, there was to be a vast turn-out
ping their fingers to thy
praise, and of disloyalty that very evening, for the
weel they war rewarded for't-But purpose of military discipline. Night
now-a-days, nothing will serve us but had overtaken Geordy by the way, and
sighing, and graining, and squeaking, as he advanced upon the suspected
and howling out dismal psalm-tunes, ground, his vigilance and alarm in-
wi' feet nailed to the yird, and faces an creased. The springing of a black-
ell lang, and muckle disloyalty in our cock, or the sudden wheel and scream
hearts after a'-Gif' thy blessing reach of a mire-snipe, were sufficient to
us, it maun be mair by thy favour, than bring his musket to his shoulder. In
our ain guid guiding, I trow.” this state of feeling, and on approach-
“ The friends of the people," being ing, with all possible precaution, the
then in the very zenith of their con- very spot where the treasonable trans-
ventional and pike-making specula- actions were supposed to be going for-
tions, were the means of leading Geor- ward, a sudden and earth-born noise,
dy many a“Will wi' the Wisp” chace. resembling the hollow and silent tred
Being armed by the authority of the of a company of men marching in close
government, and furnished with wea- order, attracted his ear. It was but
pons not only of defence but of attack, too evident, from the silence, as well
he was ever amongst the very foremost as from the tred, that his information
in crediting and in circulating alarms; had been well-founded. So, placing
or in marching, on the shortest notice, his musket leisurely over a stone-built
to quell mobs, or secure conspirators. inclosure, and pointing it in the direc-
The fact is, that had not the Lord tion of the noise, he proceeded, in the
Lieutenants, (or their clerks,) of the most firm and audible voice, - for
different counties through which he Geordy's courage was at least equal to
marched, favoured him in more instan- his loyalty—to inculeate an immediate
ces than one, his zeal would undoubts dispersion,-assuring them, at the same
edly have brought him to much trou- time, that if they hesitated to obey, he
ble. He once seized upon a lad, who would incontinently bring upon them,
was occupied by night, all unwotting at a signal, a whole troop of dragoons
of treason, by the side of a hedge, in which he had in waiting hard by. No
courtship, and dragged him, under voice nor sound, save the thunder of
fear of bodily injury, before the She- many feet, being returned, he proceed-
riff, -when it came out, upon inves- ed to discharge his musket, and unfor-
tigation, what the fires and the flames tunately with effect; but whilst em-
which had excited suspicion, and call- ployed in reloading, and ere he could
ed forth this prompt display of loy- calculate the nature of the danger, he
alty, actually were ! On another occa was suddenly overpowered by a couple
sion his zeal brought him souce like a of Irish horse-dealers, who had him
kite down upon a poor Egyptian, who next day before a Justice of the peace,
was sitting by the way-side, fabrica- for wounding and maiming a fine
ting not pikes, as Geordy very natural- young horse which they were forward-
ly supposed, but ram-horn spoons. In ing, along with many others, to the
this instance, however, the matter was Dumfries midsummer market. The
settled without any legal interference, matter was adjusted, but the disgrace
as the tinker thought proper, or found attendant upon it drove Geordy ten
it convenient, to take the cause under miles in advance on his circuit !-
his own adjustment, and gave poor


1821.]
161
The Steam-Buat. No. III.
THE STEAM-BOAT; OR, THE VOYAGES AND TRAVELS OF THOMAS DUFFLE,
CLOTH-MERCHANT IN THE SALT-MARKET OF GLASGOW.
No. III.
Voyage First concluded.
When I had ate my dinner and drank my toddy at the pleasant Hotel of He-
lensburgh, in which there are both hot and cold baths for invalid persons, and
others afflicted with the rheumatics, and such like incomes, I went out again to
take another walk, for I had plenty of time on my hands, as the steam-boat
was not to sail for Glasgow till six o'clock. At first, it was my intent to take
a survey of the country and agriculture, and to see what promise there was on
the ground of a harvest; but in sauntering along the road towards the Hill of
Ardneve, I foregathered with Mr and Mrs MʻWaft, and four of their childer.
They had been for some time at Helensburgh, for the salt water, the gudeman
having been troubled with some inward complaint that sat upon his spirits, and
turned all to sour that he ate or drank.
Nobody could be more glad to see an old acquaintance than they were to see
me, and Mrs M-Waft was just in a perplexity to think that I could ever have
ventured to leave my shop so long, and come such a voyage by myself; but I
told her that I had been constrained by the want of health, and that may be
before the summer was done she might see me again, for that I had got a vast
of entertainment, and was, moreover, appetised to such a degree, that I had
made a better dinner that day, and with a relish, than I had done for years
past, which she was very happy to hear, hoping the like in time would be the
lot of her gudeman, who was still in a declining way, though he took the salt
water in wardly every morning, and the warm bath outwardly every other day,
Thus as we were standing in the road, holding a free-and-easy, talking about
our ails and concerns, and the childer were diverting themselves pu’ing the
gowans and chasing the bees and butterflies, Mr M-Waft said that I could do
no less than go back with them and take a glass of wine, and insisting kindly
thereon, I found myself obligated to do so; accordingly, I turned with them,
and went into the house where they had their salt-water quarters.
It was one of the thackit houses near the burn, a very sweet place, to be
sure, of its kind; but I could not help wondering to hear Mr M‘Waft ever
expected to grow better in it, which, compared with his own bein house on the
second flat of Paterson's lan', was both damp and vastly inconvenient. The
floor of the best room was clay, and to cover the naked walls they had brought
carpets from home, which they hung round them like curtains, behind which
carpets, all sorts of foul clothes, shoes, and things to be kept out of sight, I
could observe were huddled.
Meanwhile, Mrs M'Waft had got out the wine and the glasses, and a loaf
of bread, that was blue moulded, from the damp of the house; and I said to
her, “ that surely the cause which had such an effect on the bread, must be of
some consequence to the body.” “But the sea and country air," replied Mr
M'Waft,“ makes up for more than all such sort of inconveniences.” So we
drank our wine and conversed on divers subjects, rehearsing, in the way
sketch, the stories related in my foregoing pages, which both the mistress and
gudeman declared were as full of the extraordinaries as any thing they had ever
heard of.
Mr M‘Waft, when in his good health, as all his acquaintance well know,
has a wonderful facetious talent at a story, and he was so much lightened with
of a


162
The Steam-Boat. No. III.
[May,
my narrations, that after taking two glasses of the red port, he began to tell an
adventure he once met with in going to London, on some matter of his muslin
business, when one of the great cotton speculators, in the 1809, fell to the pigs
and whistles.
TALE IV.
The Wearyful Woman.
“It happened,” said he, “ that there below to my bed, she would come down
were in the smack many passengers, and sit in the cabin, and tell a thou-
and among others a talkative gentle- sand stories about remedies for the sea-
woman of no great capacity, sadly sickness, for her husband had been a
troubled with a weakness of parts about doctor, and had a great reputation for
her intellectuals. She was indeed a skill. He was a worthy man,' quoth
real weak woman; I think I never met she, and had a world of practice, so
with her like for weakness, just as weak that he was seldom at home, and I was
as water. Oh but she was a weak crea- obliged to sit by myself for hours in
ture as ever the hand of the Lord put the day, without a living creature to
the breath of life in, and from morn- speak to, and obliged to make the iron
ing to night, even between the bock- tongs my companions, by which si-
ings of the sea-sickness, she was aye lence and solitude I fell into low spi.
speaking ; na, for that matter, it's a rits ; in the end, however, I broke out
God's truth, that at the dead hour of of them, and from that day to this, I
inidnight, when I happened to be wa have enjoyed what the doctor called a
kened by a noise on the decks, I heard cheerful fecundity of words; but when
her speaking to herself for want of he, in the winter following, was laid
other companions; and yet for all that, up with the gout, he fashed at my spi-
she was vastly entertaining, and in her rits, and worked himself into such a
day had seen many a thing that was state of irritation against my endea-
curious, so that it was no wonder she vours to entertain him, that the gout
spok great deal, having seen so took his head, and he went out of the
much; but she had no command of world like a pluff of powther, leaving
her judgment, so that her mind was mea very disconsolate widow; in which
always going round and round and condition, it is not every woman who
pointing to nothing, like a weather- can demean herself with the discretion
cock in a squally day.
that I have done. Thanks be, and
“ Mrs M'Adam," quoth i to her praise however, I have not been tempt-
one day, 'I am greatly surprised at ed beyond my strength; for when Mr
your ability in the way of speaking.' Pawkie, the seceder minister, came
But I was well afflicted for the hypo- shortly after the interment to catch me
critical compliment, for she then fast- with the tear in my e'e, I saw through
ened upon me, and whether it was at his exhortations, and I told him upon
meal-time or on the deck, she would the spot that he might refrain, for it
come and sit beside me, and talk as if was my intent to spend the remainder
she was trying how many words her of my days in sorrow and lamentation
tongue could utter without a single for my dear deceased husband. Don't
grain of sense. I was for a time as ci- you think, sir, it was a very proper re-
vil to her as I could be, but the more buke to the first putting forth of his
civility I shewed, the more she talked, cloven foot ? But I had soon occasion
and the weather being calm, the ves to fear that I might stand in need of a
sel made but little way. Such a pro- male protector; for what could I, a
spect in a long voyage as I had before simple woman, do with the doctor's
me!
bottles and pots, pills and other dozes,
“ Seeing that my civility had pro- to say nothing of his brazen pestle and
duced such a vexatious effect, I endea- mortar, which of itself was a thing of
voured to shun the woman, but she value, and might be coined, as I was
singled me out, and even when I pre- told, into a firlot of farthings; not
tended to be overwhelmed with the however that farthings are now much
sickness, she would sit besiile me, and in circulation, the pennies and new
never cease from talking. If I went baubies have quite supplanted them,


1821.]
The Wearyful Woman.
163
greatly, as I think, to the advantage would ever take his nauseous medi-
of the poor folk, who now get the one cines, which he never could abide to
or the other, where, in former days, hear, for he had great confidence in
they would have been thankful for a many of his prescriptions, especially a
farthing; and yet, for all that, there isa bolus of four of brimstone and treacle
visible increase in the number of beg- for the cold, one of the few of his
gars, a thing which I cannot under- compounds I could ever take with any
stand, and far less thankfulness on pleasure.'
their part than of old, when alms were “ In this way,” said Mr M‘Waft,
given with a scantier hand; but this “ did that endless woman rain her
no doubt comes of the spreading wick- words into my ear, till I began to fear
edness of the times. Don't you think that something like a gout would also
so, sir? It's a mystery that I cannot take my head; at last I fell on a de-
fathom, for there was never a more vice, and, lying in bed, began to snore
evident passion for church-building with great vehemence, as if I had been
than at present; but I doubt there is sound asleep, by which, for a time, I
great truth in the old saying, “The got rid of her ; but being afraid to go
nearer the kirk, the farther from grace,' on deck lest she should attack me
which was well exemplified in the case again, I continued in bed, and soon
of Provost Pedigree of our town, a de- after fell asleep in earnest. How long
cent man in his externals, and he keep. I had slept I know not, but when I
it a hardware shop; he was indeed awoke, there was she chattering to the
á merchant of ' a' things, from a steward, whom she instantly left the
Deedle and a thimble down to a rattle moment she saw my eye open, and was
and a spade. Poor man! he ran at last at me again. Never was there such a
a ram-race, and was taken before the plague invented as that woman; she
Session ; but I had always a jealousy absolutely worked me into a state of
of him, for he used to say very comi- despair, and i fled from her presence
cal things to me in the doctor's life- as from a serpent ; but she would pur-
time, not that I gave him any encou- sue me up and down, back and fore,
ragement farther than in the way of till every body aboard was like to die
an innocent joke, for he was a jocose with laughing at us, and all the time
and jocular man, but he never got tbe she was as serious and polite as any
better of that exploit with the Session, gentlewoman could well be.
and dwining away, died the year fol “ When we got to London, I was
lowing of a decay, a disease for which terrified she would fasten herself on me
my dear deceased husband used to say there, and therefore, the moment we
no satisfactory remedy exists in na- reached the wharf, I leapt on shore,
ture, except gentle laxatives, before it and ran as fast as I could for shelter
has taken root; but although I have to a public house, till the steward had
been the wife of a doctor, and spent dispatched her in a hackney. Then I
the best part of my life in the smell of breathed at liberty-never was I so
drugs, I cannot say that I approve of sensible of the blessing before, and I
them, except in a case of necessity, made all my acquaintance laugh very
where, to be sure, they must be taken, heartily at the story, but my trouble
if we intend the doctor's skill to take was not ended. Two nights after, I
effect upon us; but many a word me went to see a tragedy, and was seated
and my dear deceased husband had in an excellent place, when I heard her
about my taking of his pills, after my tongue going among a number of la-
long affliction with the hypochondria- dies and gentlemen that were coming
cal affection, for I could never swallow in. I was seized with a horror, and
them, but always gave them a check would have fled, but a friend that was
between the teeth, and their taste was with me held me fast; in that same
so odious, that I could not help spit- moment she recognised me, and before
ting them out. It is indeed a great I could draw my breath, she was at my
pity, that the Faculty cannot make side, and her tongue rattling in my
their nostrums more palatable, and I lug. This was more than I could with-
used to tell the doctor, when he was stand, so I got up and left the play-
making up dozes for his patients, that house. Shortly after, I was invited to
I wondered how he could expect sick dinner, and among other guests, in
folk, unable to swallow savoury food, came that afflicting woman, for she


164
The Steam-Boat. No. III.
(May,
was a friend of the family. Oh Lord! the din of a tongue coming towards the
such an afternoon I suffered—but the coach. It was the wearyful woman;
worst was yet to happen.
and before I had time to come to my-
“ I went to St James's to see the sel, the door was opened, and she was
drawing-room on the birth-day, and in, chatting away at my side, the coach
among the crowd I fell in with her driving off.
again, when, to make the matter com “ As it was dark, I resolved to say
plete, I found she had been separated nothing, but to sleep on, and never
from her friends. I am sure they had heed her. But we hadna travelled
left her to shift for herself; she took half a mile, when a gentleman's car-
hold of my arm as an old acquaintance, riage going by with lamps, one of them
and humanity would not allow me to gleamed on my face, and the wearyful
cast her off; but although I staid till woman, with a great shout of gladness,
the end of the ceremonies, I saw no- discovered her victim.
thing ; I only heard the continual mur “For a time, I verily thought that
mur of her words like the sound of a my soul would have leapt out at the
running river.
croun of my head like a vapour; and
• When I got home to my lodging, when we got to a turn of the road,
I was just like a demented man; my where was a public house, I cried to
head was bizzing like a beescap, and I the coachman for Heaven's sake to let
could hear of nothing but the bir of me out, and out I jumped. But waes
that wearyful woman's tongue. It was me! That deevil thought I was taken
terrible; and I took so ill that night, ill, and as I was a stranger, the mo-
and felt such a loss o' appetite and lack ment I was out and in the house, out
of spirit the next day, that I was ad came she likewise, and came talking
vised by a friend to take advice; and into the kitchen, into which I had ran,
accordingly, in the London fashion, I perspiring with vexation.
went to a doctor's door to do so, but “At the sight, I ran back to the
just as I put up my hand to the knock- door, determined to prefer the wet and
er, there within was the wearyful wo- wind on the outside of the coach to
man in the passage, talking away to the the clatter within. But the coach was
servant-man. The moment I saw her off, and far beyond call. I could have
I was seized with a terror, and ran off had the heart, I verily believe, to have
like one that has been bitten by a wud quenched the breath of life in that
dog, at the sight and the sound of run- wearyful woman ; for when she found
ning water. It is indeed no to be des- the coach was off without us, her alarm
cribed what I suffered from that wo was a perfect frenzy, and she fastened
man; and I met her so often, that I on me worse than ever-I thought my
began to think she had been ordained heart would have broken.
to torment me; and the dread of her “ By and by came another coach,
in consequence so worked upon me, and we got into it. Fortunately twa
that I grew frightened to leave my young London lads, clerks or sik like,
lodgings, and I walked the streets only were within. They endured her tongue
from necessity, and then I was as a for a time, but at last they whispered
man hunted by an evil spirit.
each other, and one of them giving me
“ But the worst of all was to come. a nodge or sign, taught me to expect
I went out to dine with a friend that they would try to silence her. Ac-
lives at a town they call Richmond, cordingly the other broke suddenly out
some six or eight miles from London, into an immoderate doff-like laugh that
and there being a pleasant company, was really awful. The mistress paused
and me no in any terror of the weary- for a minute, wondering what it could
ful woman, I sat wi' them as easy as be at; anon, however, her tongue got
you please, till the stage coach was under way, and off she went; present.
ready to take me back to J.ondon. ly again the younker gave another gaffa,
When the stage coach came to the door, still more dreadful than the first. His
it was empty, and I got in ; it was a companion seeing the effect it produced
wet night, and the wind blew strong, on Madam, said, 'don't be apprehen-
but tozy wi' what I had gotten, I laid sive, he has only been for some time
mysel up in a corner, and soon fell fast in a sort of deranged state, he is quite
asleep. 'I know not how long I had harmless, I can assure you. This had
slumbered, but I was awakened by the the desired effect, and from that mo-
coach stopping, and presently I heard ment till I got her safe off in a hack-


1891.)
The Steam-Boat. No. III.
165
ney coach from where the stage stop- trick o' the Londoners. In short,"
pit, there was nae word out of her head, said Mr M-Waft,.“ though my ad-
she was as quiet as pussy, and cowered ventures with the wearyful woman is
in to me in terrification o' the madman a story now to laugh at, it was in its
breaking out. I thought it a soople time nothing short of a calamity."
By the telling of his adventure, which he acted to the life, Mrs M'Waft
said, she had seen a better symptom in his health than had before kithed; we
therefore all agreed, that there was a wholesome jocundity of spirit to be airn-
ed by seeing the warld, although at the same time there might be both peril
and hardship endured.
Having been thus solaced by the wine and adventures of Mr M‘Waft, 1 rose
to take my leave, the steam-boat, with her pinnet of smoke, being in sight.
The mistress would have me to stay and take an early cup of tea, but I was
afraid that I might lose my passage ; so I bad them farewell,—and going
down to the shore, reached the pier in time to get into the jolly-boat with the
first cargo of passengers.
The voyage from Heleusburgh to Greenock afforded us no sort of adventures;
the passengers were Glasgow folk, on the retour, and of course, their talk was
all anent themselves and their neighbours, and no the best entertainment to a
stranger,—which I think must be owing to their great neglect of edifying com-
munion :-But this is an observe that I have made on the intellectual state of
my fellow-citizens since I began, in my voyages and travels, to mess and mell
more with the generality of mankind.
Our passage to the custom-house quay of Greenock consumed about twenty
minutes,-a space of time that in no reason could be expected to bring forth
any thing by the common, unless the vessel had sprung a leak, or the boiler
been blown into the air; or any other peril of navigation had befallen us,-
from all of which we were happily spared.
At Greenock we taiglet a lucky hour, in which I tyn't my patience, for the
man in the ship was aye saying they would be aff in a minute ; but minute
after minute trintled by, till the whole hour had rolled entirely away. Had I
known or foreseen that this was to chance, I would have employed myself in
visiting some of the curiosities of the town. It was, however, a new thing to
be in the number of “ honest travellers by sea and land," and that, I suppose,
was the cause which made me, while we lay at the custom-house quay of Green-
ock, not altogether so well satisfied as I might otherwise have been.
At long and length, the man having trumpetted his last call, the vessel ben
gan to bestir herself, and paddled away towards Port-Glasgow, a town that
has acquired some repute, as I have already intimated, on account of an im-
puted thraw in its only steeple. In this passage, which took up a full quarter
of an hour, we encountered nothing particular; but we had received an aug-
mentation of passengers, some of whom were folk belonging to “ the Port,"
seemingly creditable, well-doing bodies, but of an auld-fashioned cut; and I
jealouse, no excessive customers to the cloth-merchant. I say not this, however,
out of ony hankering of mind because I happen to be in that line myself, but
altogether as a natural observe for a traveller to make upon them.
Having landed the Port-Glasgow bodies, I inspected my fellow-passengers
with an inquisitive eye, in order to discover who among them was likely to
prove the most instructive companion; and after a careful perusal of their ex-
ternals, I made choice of a young man, with a fair complexion, coarse hempen
hair, a round face, and eyes of a light blue colour; and I soon learnt by his
longue, which was a broken English, that he was of a foreign stock; but not


106
The Steam. Bort. No. III.
[May,
to summer and winter on this fact, I may just at once say that he was a Nors-
man from Norway, who had been at Greenock, to open a correspondence about
deals, and hemp, and iron, and the other commodities that abound, as he in-
formed me, in all the countries circumjacent to the Baltic sea, from the Neva of
Petersburgh and Riga, where the balsam comes from, so good for cutted fingers
and inward bruises.
At first we held a loose kind of preliminary interlocutory concerning the
views on the Clyde around us, the which he declared were of a surpassing
beauty; and really it is not in the power of nature to do more for any lands-
cape than she did on that pleasant evening. The heavens were hung, as it
were, with curtains of visible glory; the hills were glowing like opal and ame-
thyst, and the sea, that we were sailing, was as a lake of molten gold, shewing
within its bosom another heaven and another earth ; between and which, the
steam-boat was bearing us along like a mighty bird, through the tranquillity
ofthe mid-air. “ I have seen nothing like this,” said the Norsman, “since I was
at Spitzbergen;" and then he proceeded to relate to me the following story of
his adventures, in that desart island, -all which I have set down, word for
word, as he spoke the same to me:-
TALE V.
Spitzbergen.
“ Two year gone past I had much der cloud, which is like one balcony
time and nothing to do, and having an for the little angels to look down upon
affection for the strange things of na us in the steam-boat moving on the
ture, I volunteered in my own mind, glass of this silent water.
to go for pleasures of the chase to Very well, we went away vit the
Spitzbergen. For this purpose I did tide, and we came to one part of Spitz-
hire a small ship, vit two mast, at Got- bergen, where we saw the great rocks
tenburgh, and sailed vit her round to of the coal. There is the coal for all
the North Cape. It was the first week the world, when you can find no more
in June then, and we had such fine in this country; and there is likewise
weather, that the sea was all as one the trunks of trees which come in the
great field of smooth oil.-It was as corrents of the ocean, and are piled up
calm as ice.
in the bays by the paterage, that is by
“At the North Cape I went on shore what you call the lifting up of the
to the land, where there is plenty of waves.—My Got, what values of woods
birds to shoot, and when I was gone be there, all broken in these bays of
up the hill vit my gon, the tide went Spitzbergen.
away and left my ship on a great stone, “ Very well, we sailed alongside the
by which her bottom was much wound- coast, and there we came to one estu-
ed, and the water came in. The sail- ary, opening into the bowels of the
ors, however, when I had come back, land, and I made the sailors to navi.
did not tell me of this adversity, but gate into the same, and went in and in,
permitted me to sail for Spitzbergen more than seventy-five mile, and were
vit a hole in the bottom, which was not arrived at the sack-end. It may
very bad of tem ; for if they had not cut the country to the other side, for I
done so, I would have gone to the do not know that it does not—there is
Pole. By the living heavens, sir, I no corrent when you have passed by
would have gone to the Pole—there one little strait-the purse-mouth of
was nothing to stop me; for I saw from the place; and therefore I do think
an high hill in Spitzbergen, when we myself it does not cut the country to
were arrived there, all the sea clear to the other side, but is one firth like this
the Nort. 0, so beautiful it was, wherein we are now taking our plea-
there vas no more to stop me from go- sures.
ing to the Pole, than there is now, if I “Very well, we came back to anchor
bad the wings, from flying up to you- in that estuary, under a rock, all on-
7


1821.]
Spitzbergen.
167
vered vit the lichen plant; it was as where there was no stream for the eider
if the stones vere beginning to grow duck, nor any little thing that makes
into the civilization of a soil, and to the sound on the earth. It was a
yield the food for the sheep and the strange silence to feel in the sunshine
cows that go about the farms, making –0, it was a cold silence, and it made
the fields so riant and merry vit life. me to cower into myself, as if one dead
But no sheep nor cows ruminate in man had come out of his niche in the
Spitzbergen, only grand troops of rein- clay, and put his hand of earth upon
deer, and such thousands of the eider my bosom. But when it is the time
ducks, no man can reckon what thou- to be awake, then there is a noise and
sands be there of eider ducks; and then charm in the air-birds fly—the ei-
upon the shore in the bays, there be der ducks come in clouds—the rein-
likewise such number of the morse, vit deer jump vit the gladness of renewed
their red eyes, tam brutes, how they strength, and the morse on the shore
did roll their red eyes at me, when I –tam brutes-open their red eyes.
one day came into a creek where they “ Very well, I must now tell you
were on the shore, hundreds of them of mine adventure, and what made
all together. I fired my gun, and they me to say that this beautiful evening
rowed into the deep water--my Got, on the Clyde is like the lovely stillness
how the tam brutes, vit their red eyes, that I saw in Spitzbergen.
did splash in the water. They were “ I went vit my gun to shoot the
like three thousand paddles of the rein-deer and the eider duck, and I
steam-boat, all going at one time from was alone, and nobody vit me upon
the same momentum. It would be one the silent hills ; and I went up to the
rich thing to go to these bays in Spitz- top, the crown of the head of one high
bergen, where the morse sleeps, tam mountain, which rose like a pyramid
brutes, and close them in on all sides over many other steeple hills; and
softly, vitout disturbing them in their from that place I saw the ocean all
composure. I have formed the fine clear-not an iceberg in the horizon-
speculation for going there some one all was open towards the pole. By the
day, vit a contrivance that I have made living heavens, had the pole been one
the idea of in my brain, by which I mast, I could have seen it myself that
vill kill, in one season, tree thousand day; the air was so like nothing be-
morse, ay more than tree thousand tween me and where it is.
morse, tam brutes—how I would have “ Very well: while I was sitting
the satisfaction in killing tem all. there by myself, like the last man of
“ But though there be much game the world, all other men being dead,
for the pleasures at Spitzbergen, it is and no motion stirring, and sound be-
one serious, one grave place. I do not came dumb as death, I turned mine
mean a churchyard ; but, as you would eyes to one little creek below, and there
say, a country so empty of living noi- I discovered a ship at anchor. I had
ses, that it is only fit for death, and the rejoicing palpitations in mine heart
not for life to be. There was no night when I saw that vessel ; and, leaving
while I was there; but the time to be mymeditations on the top of the moun-
awake, and the time to be asleep, was tain, I went down towards hier ; but,
marked out by nature in one dreadful as I came nearer and nearer, a strange
manner; more thrice dreadful it did fear came upon me, and I could not
seem to me than is the dark night, vit think what the ship could be doing
the thunder in the clouds, and the fire there. She had a wild appearance
spouting from a black sky. The sun few of her ropes were fastened—they
went round about the hills, as if in hung dangling like men that are put
quest of a place to set, and found none into chains for justice ; and her sails
--then he did rise up again, when he were loose and full of holes, like the
was low down, almost at the bottom old scutcheons in the tombs of the
of the hill. That was the point of con- Dukes of Housenstadt in Hungaria.
cordance vid midnight, when the so “ But I made my heart big, and
lemnity of the air was palpable to mine went on till I could see that the ship
ear. One time when I had fallen asleep had been anchored there a long time.
on the rocks, I happened to awake at —many years-all was so weather..
that time I was then alone-solitary worn about her. Her seams gaped like
-all by myself-in a dumb valley, hunger, and her cordage was like the
Vol. IX
X


168
The Steam Boat No. III.
[May,
old trees that are furred with the lichen forcing open the door, entered it. It
plant. As I was standing there, lookwas more dreadful than a sepulchre ;
ing at her, and thinking where all her for there lay the bones of a dead man.
seamen had gone, I saw eleven little His head had been pulled off by the
mounds on the shore, and at the head tam foxes, and lay some distance from
of each there was a cross, set up for a what had been his body. There was
sign to shew they were the tomh-beds at his side four, five, seven muskets
of Christian peoples. I was made cold loaded ; a pitcher vit rye meal in it,
by seeing this, and, looking round, I and another pitcher vit some water.
discovered in the lea of a hollow rock While I was looking at this spectrum,
one small hut, almost in ruin. The there came some one behind me, and
foxes of the mountain had made a hole laid his hand on my shoulder."-
through the roof. I went to it, and,
Here the Norseman's tale was broken by the engine stopping. We had reach-
ed, while he was thus conversing, Bowling Bay, where it behoved him, on affairs
of business, to leave the steam-boat, he having an expectation of a vessel coming
through the canal from Grangemouth, with iron and deals from the Baltic. Fain
would I have heard the rest of his story, but no persuasion of mine could make
him come on to Glasgow, so I was obligated to submit to the disappointment
with as resigned a temper as I could exercise ; and I could not but on this oc-
casion liken travelling in a steam-boat to the life of temporal man, where our
joys are cut off in the fruition, and adversity comes upon us like a cloud, or a
frost that nips the bud in the blowing. So I sat in this frame of mind, pon-
dering on the uncertain pleasures of this life, and looking with an eye of com-
passion on the stately houses and plantations that our principal merchants and
manufacturers have built on high and pleasant places, thicker and thicker, till
they are lost in the smoke and confusion of our Tarshish; for verily, from all
that I can read, hear, and understand, the city of Glasgow is waxen like Tyre
of old, where traders are like princes.
Between nine and ten o'clock, I found myself safe and sound once more in
the comfortable house of Mrs MacLecket, in the Salt-market, having been absent
near to fifteen hours, in the compass of which I had travelled by sea full two-
and-forty miles ; and so well pleased was I with what I had seen and learnt,
that I told the mistress it was my design to make another voyage, the which she
highly approved, and said there was a visible sun-burnt alteration in my look,
that shewed how well travelling agreed with my constitution. We had then a
bit of supper in our wonted familiarity together, and in due season retired to
our respective rests.-So ends the account and journal of my
first
voyage.
HENRY SCHULTZE, AND OTHER POEMS.
Certain innovations made by that of painting, in which national charac-
class of modern poets who write nar- teristics are studiously brought out ;
ratives, seem to have been productive both of which peculiarities the verse-
of happy effects; we more especially men of the last age thought too undige
allude to that fresher sense of verisi- nified for poesy. Open to ridicule as
militude which they cast around their the practice may be of bestowing upon
handyworks, by inventing and employ- the personages who figure in rhyme, a
ing probable names of persons and sort of real-life patronymic, and even
places, and by giving in their descrip- baptismal appellative-and the wags
tions certain touches of a still-life sort have not been slow to seize upon the
• Henry Schultze, a Tale; The Savoyard, a French Republican's Story; with other
Poems, 12mo. C. and J. Ollier, London, 1821.


1821.]
Henry Schultze, and other Poems.
169
opportunity-yet we truly believe that a name for verse,) the poem might
the Leonard Ewbanks and Barbara have gained something by it. Of course,
Lewthwaites, the Matthews and Ruths, what we have said must not be taken
of Wordsworth, and those of later crea- too strictly, for we do not go all the
tion, the Phæbe Dawsons and Isaac lengths of Tristram Shandy's father
Ashfords of Crabbe, have been of use; about names ; we have been speaking
these names have not been without of an inferior constituent in fictitious
their share in making these poets' pic- history, but still we advance the asser.
tures of manners more impressive- tion that the use of actual names has
they have helped to print the indivi- helped to improve costume in poems.
duality of the characters with ten times Many a versifier would attribute good,
more power upon the memory, than honest, English accessories, to the abode
would take place if we listened to the of a Michael or a Margaret, though
sameadventures, if related of a “hoary- with such ordinary matter he would
headed Alcander," or a “ tearful La- scruple to pollute his diction, if the
vinia." If we have to detail the lowly dwelling were that of a Menalcas or a
lot and hapless loves of a Celadon and Mysis. Names of a natural semblance
Amelia, the scenery about them will set our recollections stirring-we can
perforce assume the air of a book-pas- besides more easily recur to them, and
toral, for we can scarcely have the still find ourselves among fellow-coun-
hardihood to give a nymph and swain trymen. Welove to know the real names
so denominated, a genuine English of those in whom we are interested,
cottage, with plates on the shelf and for they are as much part and parcel
ballads on the wall. The very first of the idea of them as their counte-
glimpse of the names of Damon and nances, their voices, or their attire. We
Phyllis, are terribly provocative of as- could, therefore, be well content to
sociations with kids and baa-lambs, learn what was the name of Shenstone's
crooks and garlands, scrips and oaten Schoolmistress, knowing so perfectly, as
pipes, with an assortment, moreover, we do, her looks, her dress, her chair,
of love-knots and posies, carved on the spinning wheel and Bible, her garden,
rind of a tree; nor is a certain dog, and the green plot before her door, not
with a ribband round his neck and an- forgetting the quivering birch-tree
swering to the name of Tray, altoge- which grew upon it; nor, indeed,
ther forgotten. Now most of these would we turn a deaf ear, if the sur-
things have very few types amidst the name of Beattie's Edwin were pro-
pastoral population of Great Britain, nounced within our reach of hearing.
among which (upless unnaturalness be The other improvement we adverted
a presumption against it) the said Da- to, (not a new one indeed, but it is now
mon and Phyllis were, in verses of a perhaps more universally followed,) is
date a little gone by, implied to have that of accommodating their descrip-
a parochial settlement. For our parts tions to the accurate features of some
we like the ground-work of poetic story- known country. Bards do not now, as
telling to be somewhat natural, unless many did no long time since, settle
indeed the poet balloons us up into the the men and women creatures of their
giddy regions of pure imagination- imagination, in a land of most hetero-
otherwise, heap about the tale as many geneous materials, where the concomi-
poetic accompaniments as you please, tants of the torrid and temperate zones
but let the basis of some of its interest are rife throughout all seasons. By a
arise from its reflection of truth, or of little more circumspection in poetical
something truth-like. The effect of geography, England is not now so of,
Falconer's Shipwreck, in which the ten made a mere land of bowers and
actors are avowedly British mariners, flowers, and purling streams, where
is in some respects diminished, by his the meadows allow of rural dances on
having given them such unreal names their sod all the live-long year. Our
as Palemon and Albert. The main in- native land is confessed to have much
cident (whether truly or not) is said cold weather, much wet and mist, so
to have been suggested by something as not to be altogether in an out-o'-
similar which happened to himself: door climate ; it is not concealed that
now had he given his own name also, its pastoral districts are comparatively
or one as good, to his hero, (for Wila barren, and that where the soil teems
ham Falconer would not now be thought with fátness, our swains have made it
either too familiar or too unmelodious rather unromantically arable. Southey


170
Henry Schultze, and other Poems.
(May,
The tale opens
is perhaps pre-eminently happy in sei- In the work under notice, a well contri-
zing upon objects of nationality in his ved story is feigned to account for his
landscapes-look at Llaian's dwelling cruel determination of being so deli-
in Madoc-forty or fifty years ago, no berate a suicide ; and the poem itself
one would have dared in an heroic is supposed to consist of extracts from
poem to mention "crooked apple trees, the journal of the hapless man. This
rough with their fleecy moss and mis- fragmentary mode gets rid of some of
seltoe," growing in an orchard, ona grey the difficulties of maintaining unabated
mountain-slope, fenced by low stone- interest in the connecting parts of a
lines of wall, and neighboured by a story,—but we must object that it is
little field of “ stubble Hax." Yet who not regular professional practice it is
does not accept it as a vivid and natu-
an escape per sultum—the Gordian-
ral picture of a secluded spot in Wales ? knot is severed for the nonce, not dis-
Wordsworth may again be cited, for entangled. Not that we greatly care
he fearlessly (and, as we think, often how a poet pleases us, if he does but
felicitously) introduces not only closely succeed in doing so.
copied views of his native lake-scenery with Henry Schultze's relation of his
into his poems, but their very names courtship of Constance.
are also given us in them; and certain-
" We often rambled by the sea-beach side
ly what he so presents to us is there. At eve, when the wind breathed not, and
by more clearly apprehended.. Al the tide,
though “ The Evening Star,” the cot- Outstretched at giant-length, in deep re-
tage of old Michael, be ed, yet the
pose,
scite may be traced out in Grasmere Lay heaving onward, onward, till it rose
Vale, (at least our conception is so Into the distant blue, and bore on high
like reality, that we can seem to do Sail, mast, and banner with it to the sky.
it,) for it was on a plot of rising ground The frequent seal shot up from out the
where it
deep
His smooth black head, and from the neigh-
“ Stood single, with large prospect, north bouring steep
and south,
The sea-mew leap'd to skim before our
High into Easedale up to Dunmail-Raise.”
path,
Now also, when our metrical wri- Or scream above us her unheeded wrath.
ters lay their scenes abroad, they are Here arm-in-arm, we roam'd all free and
not quite so chary of“ a local habita lone;
tion and a name;" but if their business Climb'd many a path and sat on many a
lies in France, they prepare for us de-
stone,
nominations of people and places, in Spoke the fiul heart unnoted, unrepressid,
And told the love that swell'd in either
sounds appropriately clattering or na-
breast :
sal,-if in Germany, appropriately gut- Here would we linger, till the star of even
tural and lumbering, as if the sylla- Look'd out upon us like an eye in heaven;
bles were “ a neat post-waggon trot And saw us still upon the yellow sands,
ting in.”
Breathing soft vows, and pledging trem-
It is time, however, to put a stop to bling hands;
our remarks, which are meant to usher And warnd my village maid at last to
in our account of the first tale, in a flee
neat anonymous volume of poems late- Home through the falling dews from night
ly published by Messrs Olliers. It pos-
and me.”—Pp. 1, 2.
sesses not only the subordinate merits This is a beautiful appeal to our sym-
upon which we have been dilating, pathy for the young pair, and it is
but also the more important ones of wrought up with no mean skill in ver-
spirit, taste, and feeling. A slight sification. After talking, however, in
preface informs us, that it was found- our prefatory remarks, so much about
ed on the fact recorled in a German local propriety, perhaps we ought to
journal, of a man broken down by dis- object a little, that this sea-side stroll
tresses, who carried into effect his re- has more of an English than German
solution of starving himself in a soli- complexion about it, for Germany is
tary place: the stranger part of the hardly at all a maritime country. Let
incident is, that he was found to have it pass—the author may perhaps de-
daily recorded, in notes pencilled in a fend himself by saying, that the scene
memorandum book, the bodily sensa. of actiou is laid upon the sea-coast of
tions which he experienced, till within Shakespeare's Bohemia, where Perdita
a very short time previous to his decease. was exposed ! High authority this, to


1821.]
Henry Schultze, and other Poems.
171
stone
and you
gainsay a critic, and make him roll up Tall blocks of granite here and there were
his map! Ere the first extract con placed,
cludes, we hear of their marriage,— Like giant sentinels, along the waste.
their setting up in trade,—their quiet But living sound and object there was
domestic occupations, and their enjoy; Save where afar from some huge mass of
ment of the rest weekly brought round
by the Sabbath,
The frighted eagle scream'd, or round its
6 With all its sweets,
base
Of pleasant bells, closed shops, and quiet Skulk'd the grey wolf to gain her hiding
streets :
place.
And we put on our best, and slowly trod Still we moved on in silence. “Well, my
Amid our neighbours to the house of God. friend,
There I and Constance breathed our happy We've made some progress to our journey's
prayers,
end.'
And sent our praises up along with theirs; A nod was all my answer. • What,' he
And there, I fear, my pride oft rose to see cried,
None so devout and beautiful as she. Have you no tongue to speak, my honest
Then would we walk forth arm-in-arm to
guide ?
share
Are you in grief, or yet in love, and loth
The breezy freshness of the country air, To have your thoughts disturb'd ?'—“Per-
And tread the clover down, and by the haps in both.
brook
In both ? () then your case is bad ! but
Seck flowers and hawthorn for our chimney how ?
nook;
Some scornful shepherdess rejects your
Or seated on some sloping bank survey
vow ?'
The beasts enjoying round their Sabbath I did not say so.'- What! she kind,
play ;
Or the tall windmill, or the distant hill, Still sad?' _ Nay, we are married.'-
Paying its lofty homage, mute and still.
Married too!
Swift fled the hours." P. 7.
And have you children ?'_Three.'-
In the second fasciculus, we find
“You make me stare !
they have three children; in the third,
Your wife and you are on good terms ?'-
• We were.'-
an agreeable lodger; in the next, Con-
• How then, has she turn'd shrew, or
stance is depicted as half seduced by
what ?' — Nay, more;
him,
A villain came and changed her to a whore."
* Only happy when away from me,
Pp. 16, 17.
And most so in Von Khulmann's com-
pany."
Schultze continues in a disguised
The succeeding portion shews her
voice to describe the perfidy of the
as a guilty thing, conscious of her
wretch he is addressing, and his disco-
crime, and confessing all to her hus-
band, -penitent, but not desirous of “ Ile fled. I followed him. Revenge has
pardon or favour. Schultze cannot
wings,
hate her, though he determines to part
And, like the lightning, on her victim
from her; and plans a scheme of ven-
springs,
From whence he knows not. At a lucky
geance upon the seducer.
hour,
* I track'd him well. He slept at Kreitz When dreaded least, I had him in my
that night ;
power,
And if a guide was found, at morning light Found time and place, the wretch his
Design’d to cross the mountains, and would crimes to tell,
then
And might have sent, at once, his soul to
Be safe, he deem'd, from every hostilc ken. hell !
Disguised, I offer'd to direct his way, But the thought cross'd me; such an act
Abd was received." --P. 15.
would be
The place chosen for retribution is Unmanly, and more fit for him than me.
Draw then, damnd villain, draw !' I said,
well imagined.
and threw
* Up the long steep in silent speed we My beaver up, and gave my face to view.
passid,
He stood aghast.
And now we reach'd the mountain's brow
at last.
- See, yon cagle clamorous for his
A lonely table-land on every side,
fare,
Thence spread its level samencss, dull and And fiends are buddling round us fast to
wide.
bear
Very of it.
€


172
Henry Schultze, and other Poems.
[May,
grasp'd
Thy perjured soul away.' His sword he savageness; no heart-wringing repent-
drew;
ance drives him to offer an all-inadequate
And on him, like a hurricane, I flew ;
recompence for the miseries he has
Dash'd from his hand the feeble steel, and caused; but all is indolent self-satis-
clasp'd,
And bore him headlong to the ground, and
faction, and confident assurance. It is
not more improbable, than discordant
My dagger next to stab him as he lay to right feeling, to make the employ-
But cre I raised it, he was swoon'd away.
ment of a heretofore blood-boultered
Already had my sabre left its trace,
revolutionist, a cool projector of noyades
Deep in the wretch’s pale and mangled and fusillades, that of sitting in a little
face.
lonely Eden, and declaring that here
An eye was wrench'd from 'neath his fore.
head grim,
“ Amidst my crops of flowers
And maim'd, i deem for life, one quiver- And kneel beneath the open sky,
I muse away my vacant hours ;
ing limb.
Base as he was, I could not seal his fate,
And serve my God at liberty."-P. 118.
Nor stoop to butcher him in such a state. The author seems to have suspected
I rose, and turn'd away, and homeward something of this, for he makes an ex-
trod,
cuse in his preface, where he says that
And left him there to conscience, and to
God."
he" by no means pledges himself for
P. 21.
the absolute correctness of the religi-
Henry's wife dies—so do his chil ous emotions there exhibited.”
dren-he falls into utter penury, and Still there is a good deal of striking
fails to obtain employment or commi- poetry in different places in the Savoy-
seration, and the story is wound up by ard, and the relation of his returning
the information of those who found recollections of the pious lessons incul.
him expiring in the forest. The quo- cated by his mother in childhood is
tations we have made will enable our well made, and the incident is natural.
readers to see that the author, whoever
he be, is possessed of true poetic powers,
“ In confirmation, word on word,
Rose sweetly too from memory's store,
and has much command of language; Truths, which in other days I heard,
some of his epithets are new, and pe But never knew their worth before.
culiarly happy.
Lodged by a mother's pious care
“ The Savoyard," though a longer In the young folds of thought and sense,
poem, is inferior to “ Henry Schultze, Like fire in flint, they slumber'd there,
and it appears to us to have been writ Till anguish struck them bright from
ten before it. It wants distinctness and
thence.
force; vagueness is its chief fault ; the The beacon lights of holy writ,
sketch of the French Revolution in it
They one by one upon me stole ;
passes before us like some vast smother- Through winds and waves my pathway lit,
ing cloud, which bears neither shape nor
And chased the darkness from my soul.”
P. 108.
feature for the memory to lay hold up-
on, and until we come to the dream in If our guess be right that Henry
prison, we take little personal interest in Schultze is the latest written produc-
the adventures of the Savoyard himself. tion of this author, his progress is great,
His consolation too, at last, although and the heroic measure appears to af-
he looks to the right source, is too fa- ford the best display for his talents.
natical. The reader will not readily ac We shall hope to meet with him again;
commodate himself to the sudden re- and, as we have avowed a love for
ligious tranquillity of one whom he names, we shall have no disinclination
has just seen embruing his hands in to learn that, by which we are to de-
blood ; one, in whom no active love to signate him among the successful poets
man seems to take place of his former of the present day.


1821.]
173
On Vulgar Prejudices against Literature.
ON VULGAR PREJUDICES AGINST LITERATURE.
Yes, every poet is a fool;
By demonstration, Ned can show it :
Happy, could Ned's inverted rule
Prove every fool to be a poet.
PRIOR.
There is nothing more to be lament- from their acquaintance; of those who
ed, and yet nothing more true, than seeing him on the street,
that the “profanum vulgus," the com. “ Estranged in heart, with quick averted
mon mass of mankind, look on mental
glance
superiority with a jealous and jaun- Pass'd on the other side !
diced eye; and, as if chagrined at their It is natural for parents and friends to
own inferiority, or determined to make rejoice at the expanding blossoms of a
up for it by petulance, seem to feel, fine intellect, and observing the ho-
and to act from the conviction, that nours of school carried off by one in
the superior gifts of the Creator ought whom they have so powerfully an in-
to subject the possessor to the derision terest, they expect nothing else than
of society, or to the insolent sneers of that, by their developement, a portion
invidious malignity. Indeed, we can of their splendour will be reflected on
discer no situation in human society them. And, doubtless,-if they could
more to be pitied than that of the be content to wait for it. They expect
youth who is prematurely and fatally him to enter, body and soul, into the
conscious of the possession of superior bustle and contention of the world,
talents, and who fondly, but too falla- and there follow up the superiority of
ciously anticipates the distinction that his early days—but alas! his apparent
is to accrue to him from their deve- listlessness surprises them. They ex-
lopement; whose heart refuses to fol- pect him to exhibit all the fervour of
low the tide of the world, and whose commercial enterprize and specula-
thoughts, truants to the passing scene, tion-and lo! he neither makes his
are ever wandering amid the anticipa- idol of precious stones nor of fine gold.
ted brilliancies of his future career. They expect him to tread “ Prefer-
He beholds his less-gifted brethren pur- ment's pleasant paths," whereas he
suing their various occupations with a turns into one beset with rocks and
zeal, an industry and success, that difficulties, with the briers and the
seems to reflect discredit on the back- thorns of disappointment.
wardness of his own fate, and puts his
- should they not have known,
tardiness to the blush. Immersed in If the rich rainbow on the morning cloud
the common-place routine of business, Reflects its radiant dyes, the husbandman
or in the pursuit of some fashionable Beholds the ominous glory, and foresees
trifle, and splendid folly, the world Impending storms !—They augured hap-
disdains to sympathize with one who pily
is an alien to all that they think, and That thou didst love each wild and won-
to all that they do, while the paltry Of faery fiction, and thine infant tongue
sycophant, whose thoughts never soar-
ed above the consideration of his own
Lisp'd with delight the godlike deeds of
Greece
selfish interests, his hopes of prefer- And rising Rome; therefore they deem'd,
ment, or the unholy thirst for gold,
forsooth,
can point the finger of scorn as he that thou should'st tread Preferment's
passes by, and with a look that betrays pleasant path.
the venom of his heart, seem to mur. [11-judging ones! they let thy little feet
mur,-“ behold the idler."
Stray in the pleasant paths of Poesy ;
How proudly indignant, yet how And when thou should'st have prest amid
feelingly, does Southey inform us of
the crowd,
the difficulties he had to encounter, There did'st thou love to linger out the day,
and the prejudices he had to overcome, Loitering beneath the laurel's barren shade.
was the wanderer
even among those who once professed Spirit of Spenser !
friendship for him, but who now, ob-
serving his mistaken conceptions and All this has been suffered a thou.
conduct, were anxious to shake him off sand times, and must be borne ; but
wrong?"


174
On Vulgar Prejudices against Literature.
[May,
let the unfortunate devotee remem more accurate fidelity to nature, than
ber, that the world has never, in a they do the labourer at his task, or the
single instance, refused to congratu- clown in his hours of relaxation-the
late success, nor the nobler part of our country girl at her wheel, or the hoary
nature to pay the homage due to de- mendicant begging alms by the road
sert-their tribute to Cæsar. Envy is side; a thing which could not be ac-
an ingredient in selfish and grovel- complished without a complete drama-
ling, in paltry minds alone; but the tic metamorphosis, for the time, of the
truly great and honourable, when a author into the subject of his delinea-
glorious emulation fails, do not hesi- tion, and the total resignation of all
tate to make a generous confession, selfish thoughts, and all selfish feel-
and, forgetting all the petty trammels ings, and the abandonment of every
of hostility and party spirit, come for- thought and assumption of superiority
ward and add their unreluctant ap- into the hands of our common nature.
plause to the general acclamations of It is justly remarked by Southey, in
mankind. Let it be remembered, that his feeling and pathetic Life of Kirk
the overcoming of difficulties is one of White, that he never knew any one,
the purest and principal sources of gra- distinguished for genius and superior
tification ; that the tranquillity which mental acquirements, who was not re-
succeeds to a tempest is doubly de- markable for bashfulness and want of
lightful, from the contrast of the mut- confidence in his earlier years. Cicero
tering thunder, and gloomy cloud, to has also told us, that when he saw a
the whispers of the gentle breeze, and young orator embarrassed in the com-
the azure of an untroubled sky; and mencement of his speech, he was sure
that the glory of achievement is exact- something good was to follow from
ly commensurate to the hazard of the him. When hundreds of less-cultiva-
enterprize. Leonidas, with his hand- ted and accomplished minds, scattered
ful of patriots in the Straits of Ther- around their rhetorical common-pla-
mopylæ, proved himself superior to ces with fortitude and assurance, the
Xerxes with his hundreds of thou- gentle, the dignified, the classical Ad-
sands of invaders; and the retreat of dison, with difficulty could overcome
General Moore, is a higher specimen his modest reluctance, though truth
of military mastership than the pur- pointed his remarks, and eloquence
suit of Bonaparte. A general who, dwelt upon his tongue, and was often
with a thousand men, would attack so much overcome by the delicacy of
his adversary at the head of five times his feelings, as to be almost incapable
that number, and be defeated, would of proceeding.
enjoy the reputation of being a very But the multitude have very diffe-
great fool ; but, if he happened to be rent ideas on the subject. The silence
the conqueror, no one would dispute of a literary man is construed into
his claim to the honours of a triumph. contempt, and his temperance into a
It would appear that one of the vul- gloomy and methodistical unsociality.
gar prejudices against literary men ori- If he speaks much, it is from the pride
ginates in the notion that they regard of shewing his abilities; if he dresses
every thing around them with a su- well, he is a conceited coxcomb; if he
percilious disdain, as being of small habits himself plainly, he is a careless
regard, in comparison with the more sloven. Every thing doubtful in his
lofty projects, and the more splendid conduct is looked on in the darkest of
designs which occupy their attention; its bearings. Every gossip is glad to
and that being in quest of a nobler des- hear and to promulgate an evil report
tiny than their neighbours, they are against the aspirant after distinction;
unwilling to allow them to possess that the report of his foibles, like a ball
degree of appreciation to which their rolled along a snowy surface, grows
more limited abilities, nevertheless, larger as it proceeds; and, in its pass-
unquestionably entitle them. Now age from mouth to mouth, is magni-
this, we do not hesitate to say, is an fied like my landlady's account of the
erroneous idea, wholly incorrect, and mad dog, or the story of the Three
destitute of all foundation ; for Shake- Black Crows of Cheapside. All are re-
speare and Scott, two of the mightiest joiced to discover him tripping, to
geniuses that the world has ever seen, prove that he is not “the faultless
do not pourtray the character of a king, monster that the world ne'er saw ;
or a courtier, with greater zest, and and the owls and the bats of the world,
1


1821.] On Vulgar Prejudices against Literature.
175
in solemn conclave, determine with ac bear ; what is reckoned a trifle by one,
elamation that the eagle is blind. may occasion the most heart-rending
There is no doubt-and it is not to anguish in another. When Socrates
be denied—that another of the princi- heard the sentence of his banishment,
pal prejudices against learning origi- he said that the whole world was his
nates in a much more reasonable way, country, but Ovid sighed in his exile
and from a far juster cause,-the er for the scenes of his nativity; and
rors that too frequently spring up in while Cardinal de Retz amused him-
the constitution of genius. It is cu- self with writing the life of his gaoler,
rious, that the soil most remarkable for Tasso fretted himself to madness in
fertility, is denoted by nothing more the solitude of his dungeon.
correctly than by the luxuriancy of its When we reflect that
education soft-
Weeds. No doubt, the alienation of ens the manners and refines the feel-
the world already mentioned, and the ings,
appetency for pure delight, so fre “ Emollit mores, nec sinit esse feros ;"
quently disappointed, and the superior so that one of the most prevailing cha-
temptations afforded to a literary man, racteristics of men of genius is the
may be brought in as a kind of apolo- great extent in the range of their plea-
gy, and, if not as a proper excuse for surable and painful associations, their
the error, at least in mitigation of its increased sensibility to impulses from
heinousness. But to this we by no without, and to impulses from with-
means consent. That man that walks in, we will be more inclined to sympa-
astray through ignorance and dark- thise with those whom neglect has
ness, and frailty of intellect, may be driven to despair, or disappointment
tolerated and forgiven “ seventy-and- enticed into the unhallowed and hate-
seven times, but he who walks astrayful regions of error. Finding but sel-
in the clear sunshine, and against the dom that harmony and felicity in mix.
remonstrances of the monitor within, ed society which they are prone to seek
richly deserves, and ought to suffer all after, it is not at aŭ marvellous that
the odium of his guilt and folly. they should sometimes seek after it in
" Neither florid prose, nor honied lies of an erroneous path ; but these frailties
rhime,
are, in by far the greater number of
Can blazon evil deeds, or consecrate a instances, the offspring neither of cold-
crime."
ness of heart, nor corruption of cha-
But the truth is, that justice is not racter : They are the delusive and tem-
often dealt; this prejudice of the world porary schemes to baffle affliction, and
comes between, and hood-winks truth. by far more prejudicial to themselves
The exonerating part of the plea is than others, resorted to in the hour of
purposely and maliciously left out, and suffering, but hated and loathed and
the culpable shades wrapt in tenfold despised in the calm of mental con-
darkness. Often has the very accusae templation and serenity.
tion of guilt led to the consequences it We wish to make some distinction
deprecated ; nor is there a surer me. between errors of feeling and errors of
thod of rendering crimes general, than principle—between the backslidings of
by giving them publicity, and suppo an unguarded moment and the invete-
sing them to be common; for whatever rate perversion of moral sensibility, as
is very common, it is supposed cannot the stream may be either polluted in
be very wrong. No woman ever found, its course, or spring sullied and muda
or fancied herself a witch, till she was dy from its fountain-head. We can
suspected of being so. What can be sympathise with the unfulfilled pro-
more unwarrantable than our method mises of pleasure, with the rainbow
of determining the character of the un- hopes that beckoned, and eluded such
fortunate? The extent of the temptgifted, and noble, and lofty-spirited
ation is wholly put out of view, and beings as Burns and Byron. We can
the degree of the evil incurred is sup- allow ourselves to participate in their
posed to be greater or less, according sufferings, though self-inflicted, and
as it falls from him from whom better to offer something in extenuation of
things might have been expected. It their follies, for they were not destined
is seldom or never a matter of reflec- for the dull routine of society, for
tion how the sufferers are formed to “ they have not loved the world, nor
VOL. IX.
Y


176
On Vulgar Prejudices against Literature.
[May,
the world them ;" and with all the town, while his reputation as a poet
capabilities of the most exalted, puri- was a barrier, which all the strenuous
fied, and refined pleasurable emotions, efforts he made in his professional ca-
found too often all their magic visions reer, were insufficient to overcome.
but a dream, and all their expectations Armstrong shared the same fate.-
of rapture subsiding to the dull sun- Blackstone, when he betook himself
less gloom of misery ; but for the er- to the study of law, was obliged to bid
rors of a perverted intellect, and an a farewell to the muse; so fared it
un feeling heart, we have nothing to be with Lord Mansfield, of whom Pope
stow but contempt and execration. says,
It is fortunate that the facul ies “How sweet an Ovid was in Murray lost !"
which, whether from natural consti- Darwin, with more unpoetical pru-
tution or education, predominate in a dence, concealed his studies till his
man's mind, are not easily turned medical reputation was established ;
aside from their peculiar bent. Had it and Home was deprived of the pasto-
been otherwise, we might at this day ral care of his parish, for daring to
have had no groundless cause of com- compose one of the noblest and most
plaint. The father of Pascal shut up beautiful tragedies in the English lan-
Euclid from him, and would, on no guage.
account, allow him to apply himself to Strange, that what forms the glory
the study of the mathematics; and the of our nature, and assimilates us to
father of Petrarch, observing the turn of superior orders of intelligence, should
his son's mind towards elegant litera- be the object against which vulgar pre-
ture, endeavoured to give a finishing judice discharges its shafts! Strange,
blow to the propensity, by burning his that the essence and fountain of all
library. Sir Isaac Newton was obliged moral rectitude, and political improve-
to betake himself to a hay-loft, that he ment, should be polluted with the ve-
might pursue his studies without mo rom of envy! Strange, that the hand
lestation; and Benjamin Haydon, the that offers happiness to virtúe, and
greatest painter at present in Europe, points the path of honourable distinc-
was thwarted again and again, but to tion, should be thrust back, as it were,
no purpose, in his devotions to his fa- filled with serpents, or directed the
vourite science. In the estimation of way to everlasting infamy. Socrates,
some people, a man may give up his Sir Walter Raleigh, and Sir Thomas
leisure hours to any fashionable amuse- More, were persecuted to the death
ment, he may be addicted to wine, he for defending the cause of truth, and
may squander his money at play, he endeavouring to enlighten their fellow-
may be guilty, in short, of almost any creatures; but though they feel it not,
vice that can degrade the dignity, or it is soothing to think that posterity
sully the purity of our nature, and yet has been as generous as their contem-
be less obnoxious than he who devotes poraries were unjust, and that the re-
his leisure to the cultivation of his verence which was denied to their per-
mental faculties. What a crime it was sons, is paid to their memories.
in Addison to laugh at ignorance, to Like the fly criticising the cupola of
ridicule impoliteness, and endeavour St Paul's, it is impossible for a con-
to make learning fashionable! Does tracted mind to comprehend, far less
or does not his memory deserve the appreciate, the value of an exalted cha-
execration of posterity?
racter. If you allude to his powerful
If the scandal of literature is at- generalization of thought,- to his mas-
tached to any one's name, it is down terly command over the feelings,-to
right murder committed on his repu- his unbounded range of imagination,
tation and interest, and if his tempo- you will be answered with a “ Pooh!
ral advancement and worldly success what good are these to do to the world
depend on his professional efforts, the or himself? are you in reality speak-
veriest dunce, and the most igno- ing about the man whom I have seen
rant pretender, have a greater chance walking about the streets at least a
ot' success. The immortal Locke, from hundred times, the person with the
looking on our internal conformation blue coat and the shuffling gait?"
with too philosophical an eye, was ac- “ Yes,” if you answer," that is the
counted too great a blockhead to be a very person to whom I allude. And
physician. Akenside attracted neither what is there in these to prevent his
respect nor admiration in his native possessing these attributes ? Julius Cæ-


1921.]
On Vulgar Prejudices against Literature.
177
a stone."
sar had a bald head ; Alexander the honours lavished on the dead; and the
Great was a little man, and Bona man who was allowed to roam the bar-
parte could not have passed muster for ren heath of penury,
a corporal of grenadiers.” Then it will “ Scorn'd by the world, and left without a
be responded, “ All that may be very home,"
true, but these men lived in other and to encounter the biting blasts of
countries, and every body says they are disappointment, has, when of no avail
,
great men."
Talk to a money-changer of the phi- ashes. To use the witty words of the
a splendid mausoleum erected over his
lanthropy of Howard of the perils he satirical Matthew Prior,
encountered, and of the difficulties he
overcame of the countries he traver.
“ He asked for bread, and they have given
sed from the pure and unmingled love
he bore to his fellow-creatures, with-
But why all this lamentation and
out the regards arising from the par.
bitter regret ? as if the possession of
tialities of country and kindred, nay: ward; as if the wealth of Potosi could,
genius were not of itself its own re-
frequently in opposition to them-Óf
the unremitting labours of his life, and for a moment, be put in competition
of his death, worthy of such a life, and with it. What forms the dignity of
you shall have a significant shake of man? What constitutes his excellen-
the head, in response from the oracle ; cy among the orders of being? Is it
as much as to say “All very well, but not the comprehensive soul, that em-
I can be better engaged.”. Speak to braces in its grasp the beautiful and
such a one of the eloquence of Chalm the sublime ? the soul, that kindles
ers-of his pure devotional lessons-of with the divine glow of enthusiasm,
his fervent expostulations
of his con-
that turns indignantly from the per-
vincing and overwhelming arguments
versions of error, and exults, with a
-of his “ turn ye, turn ye, why will generous pride, in the hopes of religion,
ye die” and you shall have for answer, and in the purity of virtue? What is
that he is a high-flier, a bigot, and an the we;lth of a Cræsus to a heritage
enthusiast. Speak of Othello-of the like this? What are the dominions of
Paradise Lost-or of the Excursion;
Cæsar, to the independence and the
and you shall be told that Shakespeare power concentrated in a single bosom?
was a stage-player, and a deer-stealer: Well may we agree with Lord Bacon,
that Milton was blind, and a republi- that“ knowledge is power.”
can; and that Wordsworth is a white “ Then what are ye ! the mighty and the
livered water-drinker, and a hypocon proud !
driacal recluse.
Ye rule but for an hour, but for an hour ;
Pure fams, and unmingled respect, Your memories wither likethe yellow leaves,
are glories, that, in a vast majority of The traces of your being fade away,
instances, only overhang the grave. What are ye, when a century hath passºd ?”
And weeds o'ertop your epitaphs unread :-
Paltry opposition is then ashamed of
its resistance; and confounded preju The haunts of genius remain for
dice often comes forward to express ever sacred-ahalo surrounds them in.
contrition and repentance. When the effaceable by time. The trees under
struggle of life is over, and when, af- which the poet has strayed shed a con-
ter “ the fever of life," the slumbers secrated gloom; and the walls of the
of death hang heavy around; then, home, where he erst made his abode,
and frequently not till then, the mists are clothed with a borrowed majesty
of error begin to be dispelled, and the and grace. The tomb of Patroclus is
structures of gerius appear in all their yet a hallowed object, from its mention
native majesty and beauty; like the by “the blind old man of Scio's rocky
shadows that brood over a summer isle”-Homer. The site of Troy is
landscape, and wrap hill and valley, sought after with a zeal and industry,
and forest and streain, in wild confù- as if it could be restored to its original
sion and disorder, till the golden sun- splendour ; or as if some great nation,
rise dispels the illusion, and the hazir al blessings were to result from the
ness, “ like an angel's veil, slow fold- discovery; or as if it reflected discredit
ed up to heaven," leaves every thing on the human race to remain ignorant
in the truth of native loveliness. The of its boundaries, or to give so celebra-
neglect bestowed on the living, is en ted a name “ a local habitation.” The
deavoured to be counterbalanced by the traveller in Italy finds not an object,


178
On Vulgar Prejudices against Literature,
(May,
which, from the influence of a thou Thanks to the diffusion of liberal
sand endearing associations, has great and enlightened principles, and to the
er attractions, than the tomb where the generosity of the present times, the
ashes of Virgil repose ; or the ruins case is now somewhat altered, and the
of the Forum, where the rulers of the evil alleviated. Wealth no longer
world hung entranced over the magic shrinks from paying deference to wis-
eloquence that flowed from the lips of dom, and the first walks in the learn-
Cicero, pure
ed professions are filled by men, emi-
as from Arabian trees nent for their literature. Yet, with re-
Their medicinal gums."
ret, it must be owned, that in every
Or, let us ask, has Britain a greater department of civil society, there are
claim to distinction among the nations still too many, whose views are as nar-
of the world, from any one circum- row, whose ideas are as contracted, and
stance, however celebrated it be in arts whose prejudices are as rooted as ever,
and arms, than from its being the who seem, indeed, to glory in being
birth-place of Shakespeare ? And if the acquainted only with the one thing
celebration of the anniversary of Wa- needful. They are like the guides who
terloo be held in the farthest settle undertake to conduct strangers over
ments of India, so is the anniversary certain districts of the Alps, and can
of the birth of Robert Burns, the pas describe every thing with the utmost
toral poet of Scotland.
precision within a limited range ; but
“Encamped by Indian rivers wild,
who are as ignorant as the man in the
The soldier, resting on his arms,
moon, (though, by the by, he is be.
In Burns's carrol sweet recalls
ginning to take cognizance of the af-
The scenes that blest him when a child, fairs of this world,) of every thing be-
And glows and gladdens at the charms yond it. They are like horses yoked in
Of Scotia's woods and waterfalls." á mill, that plod round, and round,
When kingdoms, and states, and cic and round, until they are tired ; and,
ties pass away, what then proves to be as the morning saw, the evening
the most imperishable of their records, sees.” A lawyer of this class can talk
the most durable of their glories? Is well enough of special jurisdictions,
it not the lay of the poet? the elo- and hornings, and captions, and ar-
quence of the patriot? the page of the restments, and infeftments, and a thou-
historian ? Is it not the genius of the sand other tortuosities, which combine
nation, imprinted on these, the most to veil the countenance of justice, and
splendid of its annals, and transmitted to make law a trade. A clergyman of
as a legacy, and a token of its vanished this class will confound your under-
glory, to the after ages of mankind ? standing with a “ shadowy crowd" of
And now, when the glories of Greece pedantic opinions about purgatory,
and Rome are but shadows, does not gleaned from the dusty volumes of the
our blood stir within us at the recital schoolmen-by a multitude of mysti-
of their mighty achievements, and of cal notions concerning morality, and
their majestic thoughts? Which, but the tendency of sects; and by his abuse
for the page of the chronicler, would of “ the scarlet woman who sitteth
have been long ere now a blank and upon seven hills.”-And a physician of
a vacancy; glory departed without a the same stamp will endeavour to ex-
trace, or figures traced upon the sand, cite your astonishment by the recital
and washed away by the returns of the of some particular cures effected by a
tide.
stomachic powder of his own, in severe
“ Oh! who shall lightly say that fame
cases of the borborygmi in the intes-
Is nothing but an empty name?
tinal canal ; of another example of the
When, but for those, our mighty dead
talicotian operation, whereby a nose,
All ages past a blank would be, almost as good as the old one, lost in
Sunk in oblivion's murky bed,
battles at home or abroad, was form-
A desert bare, a shipless sea.
ed, from the skin of the forehead care-
They are the distant objects seen ; fully peeled down, and pinned to the
The lofty marks of what hath been. side of the denuded cavities of the nos-
Oh! who shall lightly say that fame tril; or by some would-be philosophi-
Is nothing but an empty name?
cal defence of German craniology. Con-
Where memory of the mighty dead
To earth-worn pilgrims' wistful eye
tinue on topics like these, and their
The brightest rays of cheering shed,
screech-owl eloquence will flow
That point to immortality.'
- As boundless as the waters of the doep."


1821.1
On Vulgar Prejudices against Literature.
179
but touch on any other subject ; let it It is “ more in pity than in anger,"
be on philosophy, or history, or general therefore, that we lament over the pre-
literature, or even politics, and they judices that the vulgar retain against
will “sit with sad civility,” as stupid science and literature ; though, too of-
as bats, and as silent as Pygmalion's ten, the professors of both are totally
wife.
dependent for all the comforts of life
The remark of Goldsmith is exceed- on the dictum of the public. What a
ingly just, that the useful part of any “rueful martyrology," indeed, do the
profession, whatever the professors may lives of philosophers and literary men
say to the contrary, is easily acquired; present! yet what a glorious host, what
and we shall venture to add, as easily a splendid assemblage of all that is
retained. There is no excuse, there- lofty, and magnificent, and sublime,
fore, for our stopping here, as if it were in human nature, do they constitute !
the ne plus ultra of acquirement, either What generous heart does not echo
on the score of sufficiency, or of neces- back the fine ejaculation of Words-
sity; because it is an incontrovertible worth,
fact, that the sphere of a man's use-
“Oh! that my name were mingled among
fulness is proportionate, in a direct ra-
theirs,
tio, to the extent of his information, How gladly would I quitthis mortal sphere!"
in any particular branch of science and
art. Improvers have seldom been so, Blot them out from the history of the
to the advancement of their own for world, and what would be the result ?
tunes; but is it not a noble consolation what would remain behind but “the
to think, that when we are no more, iron memories of kings and conque-
our memories will be regarded with rors ?" What have civilization, and all
respect and veneration ; that we will the elegancies of domestic life, de-
be classed among the benefactors of pended on, but their agencies ? And
our species; and that, when our grave- though many of them closed their eyes
stones are mossed over, and sprinkled in death,
with the weather-stains of ages, we
“ With a sigh to find
may receive the blessings of those who The unwilling gratitude of base mankind;"
are reaping the benefits of our indus- yet time, who is the best chronicler of
try. Innovators, more especially if their all that is either worthless or praise-
lessons run counter to the approved worthy, has dispelled the shadows
and general practices of society, have which hovered around them, and fix-
uniformly met with resistance; and ed them in beauty on that rock, which
thisresistance, in many instances, seems is seen of all, and in that rank of es-
to have been strong or weak, in the timation, which their merits deserve,
direct proportion of the good which
Had Columbus contented himself
has been developed. Numa Pompi- with being a weaver, or Shakespeare
lius, whose mild philosophical temper with being a wool-stapler, or Captain
was insufficient, by natural means, to cook with being a cabin-boy, or John
restrain the impetuous temper of rising Locke with being a surgeon, or Şir
Rome, was obliged to feign nocturnal Richard Arkwright with being a hair-
intercourse with the goddess Egeria, dresser, or Benjamin Franklin with
and succeeded in his designs, by thus being a printer, or James Ferguson
throwing over them the factitious lus- with being a shepherd, we do not think
tre of a heavenly adviser. Roger Ba- that either science or society would
con, who was born a century too soon, have had much reason to rejoice.
suffered for his premature develope Genius will assert its native supre-
ment of science, in being suspected of
an illicit intercourse with the EvilOne, macy; and let not the ignorant or the
and condemned for this most true and will lower its triumph in the opinion
vulgar suppose, that any effort of theirs
proven crime, to the misery and the of the wise and good. It is like a light
darkness of a cell. And.
set on a high hill, which cannot be
* The starry Galileo with his woes,"
hid. The lightnings of envy, and the
is an awful lesson to us of the igno- thunders of malice, flash and rumble
rance and perversion of human nature, far below, leaving it in the pure ether
operating, struggling against, and en- of heaven, encompassed with the splen-
deavouring to annul the discoveries of dours of beauty and majesty.
the philosopher.


180
Campaigns of the British Army at Wushington, $c. [May,
CAŃ PAIGNS OF THE BRITISH ARMY AT WASHINGTON, &c. *
Tuat any works which narrate events We are caught napping in the moment
of such interest and importance as those of victory, and found perfectly stupified
of the late war should in general be so by defeat. Thedemon of dulness which
intolerably dull, may appear at first haunts their works exercises perfect
sight extraordinary. The cause, how- dominion over us; and at such times
ever, we take to be simply this, that we have even detected ourselves cur-
the writers are men of no talents, chiefly sing the Scots Greys, and wishing the
belonging to the military profession, gallant Forty Second at the bottom of
and of course just as well qualified to the sea. Certain we are, that all the
dissert on such subjects, as a chairman best accounts of the continental wars,
to explain the wonders of the polar re- have been written by civilians, not by
gions, or a Scotch cadie to expound military men. The latter have been
Turkish law. Such a writer is for ever beaten hollow on their own ground,
heralding the exploits of his own little and now have not an inch to stand
squad or battalion, recounting his upon; for even in novel writing the
achievements on out-piquet, and dis women far excel them, and in Baccha-
gusting us, who care nothing about nalian songs we will match Willison
him, with some story of a rifleman Glass, or the cobbler of Falkirk, against
sending a bullet through his thick legs, the best of them, and bet Pompey's
or a lancer breaking his sabre on his pillart to a stick of sealing wax on the
still thicker scull
. His narrative, too, issue. One of the most noted military
is generally interlarded, by way of epi- works of the present age, for instance,
sode, with the hair-breadth escapes and is the account of the Egyptian cam-
moving calamities of sundry youths paign by Sir Robert Wilson. In a li-
unknown to fame, the companions of terary point of view, a more contempt-
his toils and dangers. We are quite ible work never issued from the press.
ready to believe that Major Dobson We are convinced there were inany
behaved well, and Colonel Jackson non-commissioned officers in Sir Ralph
fought like a lion; but we really Abercromby's army, who could have
grumble at finding a dozen pages con- written quite as good a narrative of the
sumed in explaining to us how the movements of the troops, and have ex-
former had the mistortune to receive pressed themselves in much better lan-
a bullet in his breech, and the latter guage ; and the difficulty only is to
to lose his right whisker and three of conceive how any man could so com-
his grinders. We believe it requires pletely succeed as he has done, in com-
quite as much talent to describe a posing a work of which Egypt was the
battle well as to paint it on canvass, subject, containing no one syllable of
and that the same keeping is necessary information in the least interesting to
in both; but who, for instance, could the soldier, the scholar, the man of
for a moment tolerate a picture of Wa- science, or the philosopher. Not one
terloo, in which the chief figure was of his predecessors or successors, little
Lieutenant M'Intosh of the 79th, or qualified as some of them have been,
Captain Augustus Polidore Bumme of but have added at least a trifle to the
the Royal Scotch Fusileers? But over- stock of our knowledge; and the work
looking these absurdities, it is indeed of Sir Robert Wilson stands singly in
quite wonderful how greatly the dul- the naked ignorance of its author a ino-
ness of the narrator can deprive of all nument, though an unnecessary one,
extrinsic interest thegreatevents which of that littleness of understanding and
he records. Who is there that, in the blindness of intellect by which his
hinds of these writers, has not yawn- whole after life has been distinguished.
ed at the briskest charge of cavalry, or These observations, however, are by po
been lulled into a profound slumber by means applicable to the officers of the
the mostdreadfuldischarge of artillery French army, and in a smaller degree
* A Narrative of the Campaigns of the British Army at Washington and New Or.
leans, under General Ross, Pakenham, and Lambert, in the Years 1814 and 1815 ; with
some Account of the Countries visited. By an Officer, who served in the Expedition.
London, John Murray, 1821.
+ An admirable comparison, adopted from a prime article of the Courant, on the fight
betwixt Black Sam and Chicken, lately fought at Ravelrig Toll.


1821.] Campaigns of the British Army at Washington, &c. 181
at least to those of other foreign nations the first generals of the age has been
than to our own. To French officers, directed. But somewhat too much of
science has, in many cases, been deep- this.
ly indebted; nor has the army of that
We have indeed some apology to
nation ever penetrated into any country offer for these hasty observations, in-
interesting to Europeans, without re- applicable as they certainly are to the
turning with a rich store of valuable work, to which we are now about to
information; and thus compensating, call the attention of our readers. This,
in some degree at least, for the evils of too, is the production of a military au-
unprincipled ambition, by contributing thor, but of one whose talents and ac-
to the knowledge, while they encroach- complishments, we take it, would en-
ed on the happiness of mankind. The title him to appear before the public
pencil of man, perhaps, never drew a in a much higher character than he has
more vivid and affecting picture of mi- chosen to assume as the narrator of the
sery than may be found in La Baume's campaigns of the British army at Wash-
account of the first Russian campaign. ington and New Orleans. A more
We read it with all the avidity with entertaining volume we have seldom
which we peruse a romance, and with met with ; and it is written through-
a deeper interest, arising from a know- out with the same spirit, elegance, and
ledge of its truth, than ever a romance vivacity, which contributes to give so
excited. This, however, is but one of strong an interest to Lord Burghersh's
many, and the eagerness with which account of the peninsular campaigns.
these works are translated and read in The work commences with the conclu-
our language, is convincing and mor- sion of the campaigns of the British
tifying evidence of the utter incapaci- army in France, in the spring of 1814.
ty of our military authors, since we The regiment of our author was then
are obliged to be indebted for the on- ordered to embark with several others
ly tolerable records of our victories to for America, in order to constitute a
the pens of our enemies. It is a mere force to carry hostilities into the inte-
vulgar error to suppose, that military rior of the United States. They had
men, from being present on the spot, a pleasant voyage across the Atlantic
are therefore better qualified to give an to the Bermuda Islands, which, how-
accurate account of the manæuvres of ever, is detailed to us with somewhat
a engagement, or to comprehend the too much prolixity,--and they after-
great motives of policy by which the wards, being joined by a naval force
several events of a campaign may have under Admiral Malcolin, sailed on the
been dictated. On service, an officer expedition which formed the chief ob-
in the inferior ranks of his profession ject of the armament. The Ameri-
knows nothing, and is allowed to know cans opiposed no resistance to their
nothing, beyond the motions of his own sailing up the Chesapeake, which they
regiment or brigade. He is a mere ma- entered on the 15th of August; and
chine; and beyond the confined or on the morning of the 19th, the army
bit of his own vision every thing to was landed, under protection of the
him is in utter darkness. During the guns of the ships, without experien-
peninsular war, the officers generally cing any opposition. The primary ob-
acquired their first knowledge of the ject which "General Ross appears to
movements of the different divisions of have had in view, was the capturc of
the army from the English newspapers; a flotilla of gun-boats, which was sta-
and in the confusion of an engagement tioned at Nottingham, and which was
en veloped in smoke, and with their at- afterwards blown up by the enemy.
tention fully occupied by the occurren-Disappointed in some measure in this,
ces in their immediate neighbourhood, he next determined to penetrate to
they are in a state of perfect ignorance Washington, which he effected with
of what is passing in other parts of the little loss, atter routing a considerable
field. It is not to the horse who drives body of the enemy at Bladensburgh.
the mill that we must look for an ex- The following account of the entry of
planation of the mechanism of the ma- the British army into Washington, will
chinery. Nor is it from these humble shew the treacherous character of the
though useful instruments of war, that enemy with whom we had to deal :-
we are to expect a thorough compre “ Such being the intention of General
hension of the great principles of po- Ross, he did not march the troops imme.
licy, by which the military conduct of diately into the city, but halted them upon


192
Camprigns of the British Army at Washington, &c. [May,
a plain in its immediate vicinity, whilst a what they will term a line of conduct at
flag of truce was sent in with terms. But once barbarous and unprofitable. Far from
whatever his proposal might have been, it it ; on the contrary, I cannot help admiring
was not so much as heard ; for scarcely had the forbearance and humanity of the Bri-
the party bearing the flag entered the street, tish troops, since, irritated as they had eve-
than they were fired upon from the windows ry right to be, they spared as far as was pos-
of one of the houses, and the horse of the sible, all private property, not a single house
General himself, who accompanied them, in the place being plundered or destroyed,
was killed. You will easily believe, that except that from which the general's horse
conduct so unjustifiable, so direct a breach had been killed, and those which were ac-
of the law of nations, roused the indigna- cidentally thrown down by the explosion of
tion of every individual, from the General the magazines.
himself down to the private soldier. All “ While the third brigade was thus em-
thoughts of accommodation were instantly ployed, the rest of the army, having recal-
laid aside ; the troops advanced forth with led its stragglers, and removed the wounded
into the town, and, having first put to the into Bladensburg, began its march towards
sword all who were found in the house from Washington. Though the battle was end.
which the shots were fired, and reduced it ed by four o'clock, the sun had set be-
to ashes, they proceeded, without a mo- fore the different regiments were in a con-
ment's delay, to burn and destroy every dition to move, consequently this short
thing in the most distant degree connected journey was performed in the dark. The
with government. In this general devasta. work of destruction had also begun in the
tion were included the Senate-house, the city, before they quitted their ground ; and
President's palace, an extensive dock-yard the blazing of houses, ships, and stores,
and arsenal, barracks for two or three the report of exploding magazines, and the
thousand men, several large store-houses crash of falling roofs, informed them as
filled with naval and military stores, some they proceeded, of what was going forward.
hundreds of cannon of different descriptions, You can conceive nothing finer than the
and nearly twenty thousand stand of small sight which met them as they drew near to
arms. There were also two or three pub- the town. The sky was brilliantly illumin-
lic rope works which shared the same fate, ed by the different confiagrations; and a
a fine frigate pierced for sixty guns, and dark red light was thrown upon the road,
just ready to be launched, several gun. sufficient to permit each man to view dis-
brigs and armed schooners, with a variety tinctly his comrade's face. Except the
of gun-boats and small craft. The powder burning of St Sebastian's, I no not recol-
magazines were of course set on fire, and lect to have witnessed, at any period of my
exploded with a tremendous crash, throw- life, a scene more striking or more su-
ing down many houses in their vicinity, blime.
partly by pieces of the walls striking them, “ Having advanced as far as the plain,
and partly by the concussion of the air ; where the reserve had previously paused,
whilst quantities of shot, shell, and hand- the first and second brigades halted; and,
grenades, which could not otherwise be forming into close column, passed the
rendered useless, were thrown into the ri- night in bivouack. At first, this was agree-
ver. In destroying the cannon, a method able enough, because the air was mild, and
was adopted, which I had never before weariness made up for what was wanting
witnessed, and which, as it was both effec. in comfort. But, towards morning, a vio-
tual and expeditious, I cannot avoid rela- lent storm of rain, accompanied with thun-
ting. One gun, of rather a small calibre, der and lightning, came on, which disturb-
was pitched upon as the executioner of the ed the rest of all those who were exposed
rest, and being loaded with ball, and turn- to it. Yet, in spite of the disagreeableness
ed to the muzzles of the others, it was fired, of getting wet, I cannot say that I felt dis-
and thus beat out their breechings. Many, posed to grumble at the interruption, for it
however, not being mounted, could not be appeared that what I had before consider.
thus dealt with ; these were spiked, and ed as superlatively sublime, still wanted
having their trunnions knocked off, were af. this to render it complete. The flashes of
terwards cast into the bed of the river. lightning seemed to vie in brilliancy with
“ All this was as it should be, and had the flames which burst from the roofs of
the arm of vengeance been extended no burning houses, while the thunder drown-
farther, there would not have been roomed the noise of crumbling walls, and was
given for so much as a whisper of disappro- only interrupted by the occasional roar of
bation. But, unfortunately, it did not stop cannon, and of large depots of gunpowder,
here ; a noble library, several printing-of- as they one by one exploded.
fices, and all the national archives were “I need scarcely observe, that the con-
likewise committed to the flames, which, sternation of the inhabitants was complete,
though no doubt the property of govern- and that to them this was a night of terror.
ment, might better have been spared. It is so confident had they been of the success
not, however, my intention to join the out. of their troops, that few of them had
cry, which will probably be raised, against dreamt quitting their houses, or aban-
12


2821] Campaigns of the British Army at Washington, &c. 188
doning the city ; nor was it till the fugi- Washington. They were taken complete-
tives from the battle began to rush in, fiil. ly by surprise ; nor could the arrival of the
ing every place as they came with dismay, flood be more unexpected to the natives of
that the President himself thought of pro- the antediluvian world, than the arrival of
viding for his safety. That gentleman, as the British army to them. The first im.
I was credibly informed, had gone forth in pulse, of course, tempted them to fly, and
the morning with the army, and had conti- the streets were, in consequence, crowded
Rued among his troops till the British for- with soldiers and senators, men, women,
ces began to make their appearance. Whe- and children, horses, carriages, and carts
ther the sight of his enemies cooled his cou- loaded with household furniture, all hasten-
rage or not, I cannot say, but, according ing towards a wooden bridge which crosses
to my informer, no sooner was the glittering the Potomack. The confusion thus occa-
of our arms discernible, than he began to sioned was terrible, and the crowd upon the
discover that his presence was more wanted bridge was such as to endanger its giving
in the senate than with the army ; and ha- way. But Mr Maddison, having escaped
ving ridden through the ranks, and exhort- among the first, was no sooner safe on the
ed every man to do his duty, hehurried back opposite bank of the river, than he gave or-
to his own house, that he might prepare a ders that the bridge should be broken down,
feast for the entertainment of his officers, which being obeyed, the rest were obliged
when they should return victorious. For to return, and to trust to the clemency of
the truth of these details I will not be an- the victors.
Iwerable ; but this much I know, that the “ In this manner was the night passed
feast was actually prepared, though, instead by both parties ; and at day-break, next
of being devoured by American officers, it morning, the light brigade moved into the
went to satisfy the less delicate appetites of a city, while the reserve fell back to a height,
party of English soldiers. When the de- about half a mile in the rear. Little, how.
tachment, sent out to destroy Mr Maddi- ever, now remained to be done, because
son's house, entered his dining-parlour, every thing marked out for destruction was
they found a dinner-table spread, and co- already consumed. Of the Senate-house,
vers laid for forty guests. Several kinds of the President's palace, the barracks, thé
wine, in handsome cut-glass decanters, dock-yard &c. nothing could be seen except
were cooling on the side-board; plate-hold- heaps of smoaking ruins ; and even the
ers stood by the fire-place, filled with dishes bridge, a noble structure, upwards of a
and plates; knives, forks, and spoons, were mile in length, was almost wholly demo-
arranged for immediate use ; in short, eve- lished. There was, therefore, no further
ry thing was ready for the entertainment of occasion to scatter the troops, and they were
a ceremonious party. Such were the ar. accordingly kept together as much as pos-
rangements in the dining-room, whilst in sible on the Capitol hill.”.
the kitchen were others answerable to them
in every respect. Spits, loaded with joints ings and stores in Washington, the
Having destroyed the public build-
of various sorts, turned before the fire; pots, army then proceeded to Baltimore,
saucepans, and other culinary utensils,
stood upon the grate ; and all the other where their operations were not quite
requisites for an elegant and substantial re-
so successful. General Ross was kill-
past, were exactly in a state which indica- ed by a shot from a rifleman in a tri-
ied that they had been lately and precipi- fling skirmish, and having defeated the
tately abandoned.
American army after a pretty smart
" You will readily imagine, that these engagement, our force was obliged to
preparations were beheld by a party of hun- retire, in consequence of an intimation
gry soldiers, with no indifferent eye. An from the admiral, that the river was
elegant dinner, even though considerably, too shallow to admit of the co-opera-
over dressed, was a luxury to which few of tion of the feet. The following is the
them, at least for some time back, had been account of the melancholy fate of Ge-
accustomed ; and which, after the dangers neral Ross, an officer as much respect-
and fatigues of the day, appeared peculiar.
ly inviting. They sat down to it, therefore, ed, and of as great promise, as any in
not indeed in the most orderly manner, but the British army.
with countenances which would not have “ Having rested for the space of an hour,
disgraced a party of aldermen at a civic we again moved forward, but had not pro-
feast; and, having satisfied their appetites ceeded above a mile, when a sharp fire of
with fewer complaints than would have pro- musketry was heard in front, and shortly
bably escaped their rival gourmands, and afterwards a mounted officer came galloping
partaken pretty freely of the wines, they to the rear, who desired us to quicken our
finished by setting fire to the house which pace, for that the advanced guard was en-
had so liberally entertained them.
gaged. At this intelligence the ranks were
* But, as I have just observed, this was closed, and the troops advanced at a brisk
2 night of dismay to the inhabitants of rate, and in profound silence. The firing
VOL IX.
Z


18+ Campaigns of the British Army at Washington, 4c. (May,
still continued, though, from its running cottages. To retire, unobserved, was, how-
and irregular sound, it promised little else ever, impossible, because the rustling which
than a skirmish ; but whether it was kept I had made among the trees drew theiratten-
up by detached parties alone, or by the tion, and they saw me, probably, before I
out-posts of a regular army, we could not had seen them. Perceiving that their eyes
tell ; because, from the quantity of wood were fixed on me, I determined to put a
with which the country abounds, and the bold face on the matter, and calling aloud,
total absence of all hills and eminences, it as if for a party to halt, I advanced, with
was impossible to discern what was going my servant, towards them. They were
on at the distance of half a mile from where dressed in sailors' jackets and trousers, and
we stood.
rose on my approach, taking off their hats
“We were now drawing near the scene with much civility. On joining them, I
of action, when another officer came at full demanded whether they were not English-
speed towards us, with horror and dismay men, and deserters from the fleet, stating
in his countenance, and called aloud for a that I was in search of two persons very
surgeon. Every man felt within himself much answering their description. They
that all was not right, though none was assured me that they were Americans, and
willing to believe the whispers of his own no deserters, begging that I would not take
terror. But what at first we could not them away; a request to which, after some
guess at, because we dreaded it so much, time, I assented. They then conducted me
was soon realized, for the aide-de-camp had into the house, where I found an old man
scarcely passed, when the general's horse, and three women, who entertained me with
without its rider, and with the saddle and bread, cheese, and new milk. While I
housings stained with blood, came plun- was sitting there, a third youth, in the
ging onwards. Nor was much time given dress of a labourer, entered, and whispered
for fearful surmise, as to the extent of our to one of the sailors, who immediately rose
misfortune. In a few moments we reached to go out, but I commanded him to sit
the ground where the skirmishing had ta still, declaring that I was not satisfied, and
ken place, and beheld poor Ross laid, by should certainly arrest him if he attempted
the side of the road, under a canopy of to escape. The man sat down sulkily, and
blankets, and apparently in the agonies of the young labourer coming forward, begged
death. As soon as the firing began, he had permission to examine my gun. This was
ridden to the front, that he might ascertain a request which I did not much relish, and
from whence it originated, and, mingling with which I, of course, refused to comply,
with the skirmishers, was shot in the side telling the fellow that it was loaded, and
by a rifleman. The wound was mortal ; he that I was unwilling to trust it out of my
fell in the arms of his aide-de-camp, and own hand, on account of a weakness in one
lived only long enough to name his wife, of the locks.
and to commend his family to the protec “ I had now kept up appearances as long
tion of his country. He was removed to as they could be kept up, and, therefore,
wards the fleet, but expired before his rose to withdraw; a measure to which I
bearers could reach the boats."
was additionally induced by the appearance
Our forces once more reimbarked, of two other countrymen at the opposite
and repaired to Jamaica, which was
end of the hamlet. I therefore told the sail-
appointed as a general rendezvous forors that if they would pledge themselves to
a much larger army, intended for the remain quietly at home, without joining
attack of New Orleans. But before ac-
the American army, I would not molest
companying them to their destination, not to venture beyond the village, lest they
them ; warning them, at the same time,
we mu lay before our readers an ac- should fall into the hands of other parties,
count of the imminent danger to which who were also in search of deserters. The
our author was exposed, and from promise they gave, but not with much ala-
which he appears to have extricated crity, when I rose, and keeping my eye
himself with singular presence of mind. fixed upon them, and my gun ready cock-
“Tempted by this show of quietness, I ed in my hand, walked out, followed by
one day continued my walk to a greater my servant. They conducted us to the
distance from the fleet' than I had yet ven- door, and stood staring after us till we got
tured to do. My servant was with me, but to the edge of the wood, when I observed
had no arms, and I was armed only with a them moving towards their countrymen,
double-barrelled fowling-piece. Having who also gazed upon us without either ad-
wearied myself with looking for game, and vancing or flying. You will readily be-
penetrated beyond my former land-mark, I lieve, that as soon as we found ourselves
came suddenly upon a small hamlet, occu- concealed by the trees, we lost no time in
pying a piece of cleared ground in the very endeavouring to discover the direct way to-
heart of a thick wood. With this, to con- wards the shipping, but, plunging into the
fess the truth, I was by no means delight- thickets, ran with all speed, without think
ed, more especially as 1 perceived two stout- ing of aught except an immediate escape
Jooking men sitting at the door of one of the from pursuit. Whether the Americans did


1821.] Campaigns of the British Army at Washington, &c. 185
attempt to follow, or not, I cannot tell. If same moment was to be attacked by the
they did, they took a wrong direction, for, in main of our army.
something more than an hour I found my * In this manner was one part of the
self at the edge of the river, a little way force to act, while the rest were thus ap-
above the shipping, and returned safely on pointed. Dividing his troops into three co-
board, fully resolved not again to expose lumns, Sir Edward directed that General
myself to such risks, without necessity." Keane, at the head of the 95th, the light
The command of the army was now companies of the 21st, 4th, and 44th, toge-
assumed by General Keane, a very ac. ther with the two black corps, should make
tive and spirited officer, who was after a demonstration, or sham attack, upon the
wards superseded by the arrival of Sir right; that General Gibbs, with the 4th,
21st, 44th, and 93d, should force the ene-
Edward Packenham. Of the melan- my's left, while General Lambert, with the
choly fate of this officer it is impossible 7th, and 43d, remained in reserve, ready
to speak without sorrow. He was, per. to act as circumstances might require. But
haps, the man of all others to whom in storming an entrenched position, some-
the army looked up with confidence thing more than bare courage is required.
and hope. Adorned with every quality Scaling-ladders and fascines had, therefore,
to excite esteem and admiration, in the been prepared, with which to fill up the
prime of manhood, and with a long ditch and mount the wall; and, since to
career of glory apparently open before carry these was a service of danger, requi."
him, he was snatched in a moment from ring a corps well worthy of dependence, the
our wishes and our hopes, in an un- 44th was for that purpose selected, as a re-
giment of sufficient numerical strength,
dertaking to the accomplishment of and already accustomed to American war-
which his means were decidedly ina- fare. Thus were all things arranged on
dequate. Had General Packenham, the night of the 7th, for the 8th was fixed
however, met with that honourable upon as the day decisive of the fate of New
support which he was entitled to ex. Orleans.
pect from every portion of his army, “ While the rest of the army, therefore,
much might have been done from his lay down to sleep till they should be roused
pre-eminent military skill, and fertili- up to fight, Colonel Thornton, with the 85th,
ty of resource. But we regret to state and a corps of marines and seamen, amount-
that the following extract proves that ing in all to 1400 men, moved down to the
he did not in all his officers discover brink of the river. As yet, however, no
that
courage and promptitude by which before they came : and when they did come,
boats had arrived ; hour after hour elapsed
British soldiers are in general distin- the misfortunes which I have stated above
guished.
were discovered, for out of all that had been
“ The canal, as I have stated, being fi. ordered up, only a few made their appear-
nished on the 6th, it was resolved to lose no ance. Still it was absolutely necessary that
time in making use of it. Boats were ac- this part of the plan should be carried into
cordingly ordered up for the transportation execution. Dismissing, therefore, the rest
of 1400 men ; and Colonel Thornton with of his followers, the Colonel put himself at
the 85th regiment, the marines, and a party the head of his own regiment, about fifty
of sailors, were appointed to cross the river. seamen, and as many marines, and with
But a number of untoward accidents oc- this small force, consisting of no more than
curred, to spoil a plan of operations as ac- 340 men, pushed off. But, unfortunately,
curately laid down as any in the course of the loss of time nothing could repair. In.
the war. The soil through which the canal stead of reaching the opposite bank, at
was dug, being soft, parts of the bank gave latest by midnight, dawn was beginning to
way, and, choking up the channel, pre- appear before the boats quitted the canal.
vented the heaviest of the boats from get- It was in vain that they rowed on in per-
ting forward. These again blocked up the fect silence, and with oars muffled, gaining
passage, so that none of those which were the point of debarkation without being per.
behind could proceed, and thus, instead of ceived. It was in vain that they made good
a flotilla for the accommodation of 1400 their landing, and formed upon the beach,
men, only a number of boats sufficient to without opposition or alarm; day had al-
contain 350 was enabled to reach their des ready broke, and the signal rocket was seen
tination. Even these did not arrive at the in the air, while they were yet four miles
time appointed. According to the precon- from the batteries, which ought hours ago
certed plan, Colonel Thornton's detachment to have been taken.
was to cross the river immediately after it 6 In the mean time the main body
was dark. They were to push forward, so armed, and moved forward some way in
as to carry all the batteries, and point the front of the piquets. There they stood
guns before day light, when, on the throwing waiting for day-light, and listening with
up of a rocket, they were to commence fic the greatest anxiety for the firing which
ring upon the enemy's line, which, at the ought now to be heard on the opposite


186
Campaigns of the British Army at Washington, &c. [May,
bank. But this attention was exerted in locks by one arm over the wall, and disa
vain, and day dawned upon them long be- charged them directly upon their heads.
fore they desired its appearance. Nor was The whole of the guns, likewise, from the
Sir Edward Packenham disappointed in opposite bank, kept up a well directed and
this part of his plan alone. Instead of deadly cannonade upon their flank, and
perceiving every thing in readiness for the thus were they destroyed without an oppor-
assault, he saw his troops in battle array, tunity being given of displaying their va-
indeed, but not a ladder or fascine upon the lour, or obtaining so much as revenge.
field. The 44th, which was appointed to - Poor Packenham saw how things were
carry them, had either misunderstood or going, and did all that a general could do
neglected their orders ; and now headed to rally his broken troops. Riding towards
the column of attack, without any means the 44th which had returned to the ground,
being provided for crossing the enemy's but in great disorder, he called out for Co-
ditch, or scaling his rampart.
lonel Mullens to advance ; but that officer
“ The indignation of poor Packenham had disappeared, and was not to be found.
on this occasion may be imagined, but can- He, therefore, prepared to lead them on
not be described. "Galloping towards Co- himself, and had put himself at their head
lonel Mullens, who led the 44th, he'com- for that purpose, when he received a slight
manded him instantly to return with his wound in the knee from a musket ball,
regiment for the ladders; but the opportu- which killed his horse. Mounting another,
nity of planting them was lost, and though he again headed the 44th, when a second
they were brought up, it was only to be ball took effect more fatally, and he drop-
scattered over the field by the frightened ted lifeless into the arms of his aide-de-
bearers. For our troops were by this time camp.
visible to the enemy. A dreadful fire was "Nor were Generals Gibbs and Keane
accordingly opened upon them, and they inactive. Riding through the ranks, they
were mowed down by hundreds while they strove by all means to encourage the assail.
stood waiting for orders.
ants and recal the fugitives, tiii, at length,
· Seing that all his well-laid plans were both were wounded, and borne off the
frustrated, Packenham gave the word to ad- field. All was now.confusion and dismay.
vance, and the other regiments, leaving the Without leaders, and ignorant of what was
44th, with the ladders and fascines behind to be done, the troops first halted, and then
them, rushed on to the assault. On the began to retire ; till finally the retreat was
left, a detachment of the 95th, 21st, and changed into a flight, and they quitted the
4th, stormed a three-gun battery and took ground in the utmost disorder. But the
it. Here they remained for some time in retreat was covered in gallant style by the
the expectation of support ; but none arri- reserve. Making a forward motion, the 7th
ving, and a strong column of the enemy and 43d presented the appearance of a re-
forming for its recovery, they deternined newed attack, by which the enemy were so
to anticipate the attack, and pushed on. much awed, that they did not venture be-
The battery which they had taken was in yond their lines in pursuit of the fugitives.
advance of the body of the works, being “ While affairs were thus disastrously
cut off from it by a ditch, across which on- conducted in this quarter, the party under
ly a single plank was thrown. Along this Colonel Thornton had gained the landing-
plank did these brave men attempt to pass, place. On stepping ashore, the first thing
but being opposed by overpowering num- they beheld was a rocket thrown up as a
bers, they were repulsed, and the Ameri- signal that the battle was begun. This un-
cans, in turn, forcing their way into the bat. welcome sight added wings to their speed.
tery, at length succeeded in recapturing it, Forming in one little column, and pushing
with immense slaughter. On the right, forward a single company as an advance
again, the 21st and 4th being almost cut to guard, they hastened on, and in half an hour
pieces, and thrown into some confusion by reached a canal, along the opposite brink
the enemy's fire, the 93d pushed on and of which a detachment of Americans was
took the lead. Hastening forward, our drawn up. To dislodge them was the
troops soon reached the ditch; but to scale work of a moment ; a boat with a carron-
the parapet without ladders was impossi- ade in her bow, got upon their flank, gave
ble. Some few, indeed, by mounting upon them a single discharge of grape, while the
one another's shoulders, succeeded in enter- advance guard extended its ranks, and ap-
ing the works, but these were instantly proached at double quick time. But they
overpowered, most of them killed, and the scarcely waited till the latter were within
rest taken ; while as many as stood without range, when, firing a volley, they fled in
were exposed to a sweeping fire, which cut confusion. This, however, was only an
them down by whole companies. It was in outpost. The main body was some way in
vain that the most obstinate courage was the rear, and amounted to no fewer than
displayed. They fell by the hands of men 1500 men.
whom they absolutely did not see ; for the “ It was not long, however, before they
Americans, without so much as lifting their likewise presented themselves. Like their
faces above the rampart, swung their fire- countrymen on the other side, they were


1821) Campaigns of the British Army at Washington, &c.
187
strongly entrenched, a thick parapet, with the 85th dashing forward to theft ald, they
8 ditch, covering their front, while a battery received a leavy fire of musketry, and en-
upon their left swept the whole position, deavoured to charge. A smart firing was
and two field-pieces commanded the road. now for a few minutes kept up on both
Of artillery, the assailants possessed not a sides, but our people had no time to waste
single piece, nor any means, beyond what in distant fighting, and, accordingly, bur-
nature gave, of scaling the ram part. Yet, ried on to storm the works, upon which, a
nothing daunted by the obstacles before panic seized the Americans, they lost their
them, or by the immense odds to which order, and Aed, leaving us in possession of
they were opposed, dispositions for an im- their tents, and of eighteen pieces of can-
mediate attack were made. The 85th, ex- . non.”
tending its files, stretched across the entire We shall now conclude. The ex-
line of the enemy, the sailors, in column, tracts we have given are of themselves
prepared to storm the battery, while the the best recommendation of the work;
marines remained some little way in rear and though we frequently cannot co-
of the centre as a reserve.
“ These arrangements being completed,
incide in the military opinions which
our bugle sounded, and our troops advan. the author is rather too fond of pro-
ced. T'he sailors, raising a shout, rushed mulgating, yet we can safely say, that
forward, but were met by so heavy a dis- in literary talent and amusing detail,
charge of grape and cannister, that for an this volume appears to us very supc-
instant they paused. Recovering them. rior to any thing of the kind that has
selves, however, they again pushed on, and lately issued from the press.
THE LEAFLESS TREE.
The silver moon careers a sky,
Whose breast is bright as beauty's eye;
Though somewhat of a paler hue;
Though somewhat of a milder blue;
While sweeps around me, far and fast,
With icy breath, the brumal blast;
And lands and lakes are whitely lost
In glistening snow, and sparkling frost.
When last thy trunk by me was seen,
The bloom was white, the leaf was green;
The air was stirless, and the sun
His summer circuit had begun;
While throng'd about the flowers, and thee,
The singing bird, and humming bee;
And 'neath thy boughs the cattle stray'd,
For sunshine could not pierce thy shade.
The playful foals were gather'd there,
And breath'd in haste the shaded air;
Startled at every murmur bye,
With rising ears, and kindling eye,
Paw'd wantonly their clayey shed,
And toss'd the forelock o'er the head.
Now, birds, and bees, and cattle, gone,
Upon the waste thou stand'st alone,
Beside thee, and beneath thee-none !
The fruitage and the foliage fled,
Thy naked and unshelter'd head
Uprears its straggling boughs on high,
To greet the moonshine and the sky.
How doth thy silence speak, and show
The changeful state of things below!
No difference may the eye survey
On prospects, ushered day by day;
}


188
The Leafless Tree.
[May,
Yet, when long years have pass'd between,
And these through them remain'd umseen,
Then—then, the pausing mind, awake,
Beholds the change that seasons make;
And scans, on earth's diurnal sphere,
The wrecks of each revolving year!
Time circuits on unjarring wheels;
Below his viewless pencil steals,
And traces o'er all being fall,
Perceived by none, and felt by all.
With barren, leafless boughs, lone tree,
Such change presentest thou to me;
Thy fading leaf, and fleeting span,
Remind me of the fate of man !
Speechless, to me thou seem'st to say, -
i All mortal things like me decay,
“ Partaking, in a round like mine,
“ Their spring, their summer, and decline !"
Where Salem in her glory stood,
The seat of wisdom, and the good,
A chaos worse than solitude
Frowns dark, and petty Agas sway
The realms that made the East obey !-(1)
Her rose is wither’d, --nought is hers
But flat and terraced sepulchres, (2)
In joyless languor, where reside
The children of degraded pride.
Now lawless plunderers overwhelm
Assyria's solitary realm, (3)
And issue from the sheltering
rocks,
To reave the shepherd of his flocks :-
Yes! where Sennacherib of yore (4)
The potent sceptre sway'd, and bore
His multitudes to overthrow,
And lay revolting Judah low;
Then turn’d his eye, and stretch'd his hand,
Towards Ethiopia's tawny land,
And loosed his lions from the yoke,
While Egypt shudder'd at the shock;
hath fled, and nought re
remains
But yielding slaves, and desert plains !
How high to soar, how low to fall,
Were thine, Chaldea's capital !
Thy flowery gardens hung on high-- (5)
Thy palaces, that charm’d the eye,
With frost-work of refulgent gold;
Thy girding walls of giant mould
Have pass'd away, as doth the wind,
To leave not even a trace behind;
And snakes—a venom'd brood--are grown
The sovereigns of Babylon !
Now power
Alone the cameľd Arab hastes
Through Tadmor's proud, and pillar'd wastes,
'Tween bowers and temples overthrown,
And palaces with moss o'ergrown ;-
He gallops through the echoing streets,
Wherc nought he hears, and none he meets;


1821.]
The Leafless. Tree.
189
As smiles the setting sun on plains
Where not a worshipper remains !(6)
Once Carthage o'er the ocean sway'd,
But Dido's city hath decay'd ! (1)
Greece, learning's seat, the patriot's home-(8)
The might of Egypt-Persia-Rome,-
The ancient empires of the earth, (9)
That gave the wise and warlike birth,
Like them who rear’d, have pass'd away
By dint of arms, or slow decay :-
The ancient sages, where are they?
The tenets they profess’d, and told
The world, have like them grown old ;
For others, which like them shall fade,
Rising, have thrown them into shade:
'Twould almost seem, so strange the view,
That truth itself can vary too;
For things that have been clearly proved,
By time are alter’d, changed, and moved ;
And maxims, which the sage hath sought
To suffer for, are come to nought;
Yet one remains, the favourite one
Of fallen Athene's sapient son,
The truest e'er pronounced below,
That mortal man can nothing know!(10)
Though Wisclom bids me not repine,
How like thy luckless lot is mine!
Spring strew'd thy widening boughs with bloom,
Which Summer ripen’d to perfume,
Which Autumn mellow'd to decay,
And Winter sered, and swept away:
Thus Time presented pleasures new,
As if to snatch them from my view ;
And shew, by contrast, what distress,
What blind and blacken's dreariness
Frowns o'er the wide and waste abyss
Of baffled bopes, and ruin'd bliss !
So mortal joy and beauty flee,
But happier planets smile on thee;
For spring, with favouring hand, will shed
Reviving verdure round thy head;
The flowers again will bloom around,
And bees to sip thy sweets be found,
And birds that sport on wanton wing,
Amid thy sheltering boughs to sing.
But ah ! the bosom's wintry state,
No second spring can renovate;
No second summer can restore
The happy years that now are o'er;
Childhood, with all its flowery maze
Of artless thoughts, and sinless plays;
Boyhood, devoid of cares and tears,
Of sordid acts, and selfish fears,
And raising o'er the bonds of art,
Ardour of thought, and warmth of heart;
Or Youth, when brightly over all
Love spread her rich and purple pall ;
When lake and mount, and sea and shore,
A borrow'd pride and beauty wore,


190
The Leafless Trac.
(May,
And visions pass'd before the eyes,
Bright with the hues of paradise !
A glory from the summer day
Hath slowly sunk, and waned away ;(11).
A splendour from the starry night
Hath pass'd to nought, and mock'd the sight;
For clouds have gloom'd, and saiļd between,
To darken, and bedim the scene,
And o'er th' unshelter'd head hath past,
With wailing sound, Misfortune's blast.
The fond, the fairy dreams of Youth
Have vanish'd at the touch of Truth;
And o'er the heart, all seared and riven,
The ploughshare of the World hath driven !
The play-mates of our infant years,
Our boyish friends, and young compeers,
Are some estranged in heart and thought,
By fortune dark, or happy lot,
Depress'd too low, or raised too high,
By anguish or prosperity;
Are some, by many a weary mile,
Though bent on home, removed the while;
Are some, who, changed by wizard Time,
Even in a far and foreign clime,
Love best the pleasures usher'd last,
And, in the present, lose the past;
Some on the wild, and tossing wave,
But many-most within the grave !
Man has in heart, in hope, in all,
Like Lucifer, a fate and fall ! (12)
NOTES
(1.)
Petty Agas sway
The realms that made the East obey.
Jerusalem is at the mercy of an almost independent governor : he may do with im.
punity all the mischief he pleases, if he be not afterwards called to account for it by the
Pachá. It is well known, that in Turkey every superior has a right to delegate his au-
thority to an inferior ; and this authority extends both to property and life. For a few
purses, a Janissary may become a petty Aga, and this Aga may, at his good pleasure,
either take away your life, or permit you to redeem it. T'hus executioners are multi-
plied in every town of Judea. The only thing ever heard in this country,—the only
justice ever thought of, is : Let him pay ten, twenty, thirty purses. Give him five
hundred strokes of the bastinado. Cut off his head.
CHATEAUBRIAND's Travels, vol. II. p. 171.
How pathetically does the Prophet Jeremiah give vent to his dreary forebodings of
Jerusalem's destiny.
“ How doth the city sit solitary that was full of people ! how is she become as a widow !
she that was great among the nations, and princess among the provinces, how is she be-
come tributary !"-Lamentations.
(2.) Flat and terraced sepulchres.
The houses of Jerusalem are heavy square masses, very low, without chimnies or
windows: they have flat terraces or domes on the top, and look like prisons or sepulchres.
On beholding these stone buildings, encompassed by a stony country, you are ready to
inquire if they are not the confused monuments of a cemetery in the midst of a desart.
CHATEAUBRIAND, vol. 2d.
(3.) Assyria's solitary realm.
For an account of ancient Assyria, vide the first and second books of Herodotus; and
for the modern, vide miscellaneous passages in Kinneir's Geographical Memoir of the
Persian Empire ; also Niebuhr, Travels, vol. II.
9


1921.)
Notes The Leafless Tree.
191
(4.) Where Sennacherib of yore,
The potent sceptre swayed.
Sennacherib, King of Assyria, came up against all the fenced cities of Judah, and
took them, &c.—Isaiah, xxxvi. and Chronicles, II. Chap. xxxii.
(5.) Thy flowery gardens hung on high, fc.
“ Babylon, the glory of kingdoms,” saith Isaiah, “the beauty of the Chaldees' ex-
cellency, shall be as when God overthrew Sodom and Gomorrah. It shall never be in-
habited; neither shall it be dwelt in from generation to generation ; neither shall the
Arabian pitch his tent there, neither shall the shepherds make their fold there. But
wild beasts of the desart shall lie there: and their houses shall be full of doleful crea-
tures, and owls shall dwell there, and satyrs shall dance there. And the wild beasts of
the islands shall cry in their desolate houses, and dragons in their pleasant places."-
Chap. xiii. ver. 19, &c.—Por a striking account of the
fulfilment of Scripture prophecies
relating to Babylon, vide Rollin, Ancient History, vol. II.
(6.) As smiles the setting sun on plains,
Where not a worshipper remains.
It would appear that these magnificent ruins are falling rapidly into decay, various
pillars having been removed between the time of the visits of Wood and Volney. The
reader may consult, for a description of these monuments of splendour, Volney's Tra-
vels in Egypt and Syria, and Pocock's Travels, vol. II.
(7.) Dido's city had decayed.
Devictæ Carthaginis arces
Procubuere, jacent infausto littore turres
Eversæ. Quantum illa metus, quantum illa laborum
Urbs dedit insultans Latio et Laurentibus arvis !
Nunc passim vix reliquias, vix nomina servans,
Obruitur propriis non agnoscenda ruinis.
(8.) Greece, learning's scat, the patriot's home.
We can all feel, or imagine, the regret with which the ruins of cities, once the capitals
of empires, are beheld ; the reflections suggested by such objects are too trite to require
recapitulation. But never did the littleness of man, and the vanity of his very best vir-
tues, of patriotism to exalt, and of valour to defend his country, appear more conspicu.
ous than in the record of what Athens was, and the certainty of what she now is.
LORD BYRON.
(9.) Egypt,—Persia,-Romc,-
The ancient empires of the earth.
For an interesting account of Modern Egypt, vide the Travels of Denon, Volney, and
Legh. For Persia, vide Kinneir, and Sir John Malcolm; as to Rome, vide Eustace
Classical Tour, and “Rome in the Nineteenth century." How striking is the excla-
mation of Poggio, when looking on the ruins from the Capitoline hill
.
Ut nunc
omni decore nudata, prostrata jacet, instar gigantei cadaveris corrupti atque undique
exesi."
(10.) Mortal man can nothing know.
Well hast thou said, Athena's wisest son!
“ All that we know is, nothing can be known.”
CHILDE HAROLD, Canto 2. St. vii.
(11.) A glory from the summer day,
Hath slowly sunk, and waned away.
“ There hath passed away a glory from the earth.”
WORDSWORTH.
(12.) Man has in heart, in hope, in all,
Like Lucifer, a fate and fall.--
When he falls, he falls like Lucifer,
Never to rise again!
SHAKESPEARE, Henry VIII.
Vol. IX.
2 A


192
(May,
Translations from the less familiar Latin Classics.
TRANSLATIONS FROM THE LESS PAMILIAR LATIN CLASSICS.
No. VI.
PRUDENTIUS.
CHRISTOPHER NORTH, ESQ.
“ Apotheosis" is a metaphysical trea-
DEAR SIR,
tise, in verse, on the essence of the
AURELIUS PRUDENTIUS CLEMENS is, Deity, the double nature of Christ, and
I believe, chiefly distinguished as be- the division of persons in the Trinity.
ing the first Christian poet, that is to “Hamartigenia," or the origin of evil, is
say, the first Christian who applied an equally hopeless subject for a poet.
poetry to his religion. Ausonius, no “ Psychomachia,” or conflicts of the
doubt, professed Christianity, though soul, is a succession of dull and heavy
he never attempted to recommend it allegories, or rather personifications.
by his verses. Had Prudentius never The hymn for sunrise, in the “ Kathe-
attempted to recommend his verses by merinon,"contains some poetical pass-
his Christianity, it might perhaps have ages, as do one or two more of the
been as well, as far as his poetry is con- hymns under that title. The most
cerned. The best description of this readable of his singular productions,
poet, perhaps, is to say, in short, that however, appears to me to be the “Pe-
ħe is the Latin Dr Watts. His works, ristephanon.” It is a poetical Martyro-
in the aggregate, exhibit that species logy. We have here some of the most
of failure, which seems to be the lot noted legends of the saints told in me-
of every poet who attempts a religious lodious verse; and the wonder is that
theme, Milton and one or two others some Roman Catholic, with zeal and
always excepted. They are apparent- poetry, has not given us a translation
ly the productions of a man of strong
In the hymn on the mar-
religious feelings, and of a good talent tyrdom of St Eulalia, her sufferings
for versification. His language, how- and death are commemorated with a
ever deficient in Augustan purity, is simple but intense pathos, of which
always flowing, and, whenever his sub- the version, given below, will, I fear,
ject admits of it, wonderfully easy and be found to retain but little. The lines
perspicuous; but his poetical fancy is on a Baptismal Font are in a style to-
poor and jejune. He is smooth and tally different. They are replete with
wordy, not imaginative and vigorous. that point and antithesis in which the
With language at command, he seems latter ages more and more delighted,
to have been indifferent as to the fit- whether in poetry or prose. In the
ness of the theme upon which it was original the terms are so laconically
to be employed; and either to have strong, and the juxta position of epi-
mistaken writing verses for writing thets so artful, as to make it, though
poetry, or else to have thought that styled a hymn, little more than a string
piety of intention made ample amends of serious epigrams.
for dulness of execution. Prudentius
I am, &c.
has in vain endeavoured to extract
T. D,
poetry out of polemical divinity. His
ere now.
THE MARTYRDOM OF ST EULALIA,
Hymn IX.
FIRMLY she spoke, unshrinking still,
Nor sigh nor tear gave sign of pain,
While from each wound a trickling rill
Soil'd her pure limbs with crimson stain,
At last the closing torture came;-
Untrembling yet from many a wound,
Strongly she met the cruel flame,
And felt it wrap her round and round,


1821.]
Translations from the less familiar Latin Classics.
193
"Tis sad to see her scented hair,
Its last dark glossy ſinglets show;
And leave that ivory shoulder bare,
And o'er her modest bosom flow.
The flame is feeding on her charms,
See o'er her head the waving pyre ;-
Oh! see, she clasps it in her arms,
And drinks, with dying lips, the fire.
'Tis past-she sinks-she moves no more
Why sudden turn surrounding eyes;
Whence came that dove that flutters o'er,
Then seeks on milk-white wing the skies?
Eulalia-loved one-they who watch’d,
Thy body turn to dust again,
Beheld thine innocent spirit snatch'd
To realms beyond the reach of pain.
In vain the flames' red spires may brighten,
The tyrant may his rage increase,
Thine ashes round the stake may whiten,
But thou, sweet maiden, art at peace.
-The Tyrant heard the pinion's beat,
And when that hovering dove he saw,
He started from his guilty seat,
And shrunk away in sudden awe.
-And now the tearful scene is over-
Of friend or funeral bereft,
The pure cold snows have fall'n to cover
All that is of Eulalia left.
Beneath the weeping heavens she lies,
Sepultured in a whiter shroud
Than falls to those, whose obsequies
Are follow'd by a gorgeous crowd.
Years have gone o'er-around her grave
A goodly city now hath grown;
Behold her tomb, where Ana's wave
Still strives to kiss the sacred stone.
There is the virgin's marble bust,
Encircled oft by dewy eyes;
Snatch'd from that spot, the holy dust
In many a pilgrim bosom lies.
There, chased in gold is many a wreath,
Engemm’d is many a flow'ret fair ;
They sparkle still, and incense breath,
As summer had her palace there.-
But 'twas in winter when she died,
And winter hath his flow'rets too,
Oh! pluck the crocus in his pride,
And on her tomb the vi'lets strew


194
Translations from the less familiar Latin Classics.
СМау, ,
And virgins weave the bard a wreath
Of simple flow'rs—for such are meet
And he a choral strain shall breathe,
Fearful, and soft, and low-yet sweet.
Then thou, Eulalia, shalt look down,
Haply from yon blue heav'n the while,
And see the early chaplets strewn,
And smile a more angelic smile.
ON A BAPTISMAL FONT.
Hymn XIII.
On this sad spot-here, where the conscious ground,
Foul with the blood of martyrs oft hath been,
A never
failing stream shall still be found,
Whose stainless wave can cleanse from every sin.
Let him, whose heavy soul yet yearns to mount,
Whose hot breast burns for Heaven, still seek this spot,
Let him but wash in this eternal font,
His hands are pure, and all their crimes forgot.
Here, where the lighten'd sinners' thanks are breathed,
Of olden time were fearless martyrs crown'd,
Yea, where the holy warrior's head was wreathed
By trembling hearts, is kindly pardon found.
The joyful waters sparkle o'er the brim,
Where martyrs' wounds once pour'd a crimson flood,
And blest are both-and sacred still to Him,
Who shed for us that water and that blood !
Ye who have had, when here, asked for grace,
And found this hallow'd spot a Heaven afford,-
What boots it whether, to your resting-place,
The way was oped by water or the sword?
MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS.
SIR,
to have wished to see every person
In some historical researches, in around her cheerful and happy. Vin-
which I have been recently engaged, dictiveness and cruelty were perfectly
my attention was called to the much strangers to her : She possessed natu-
agitated question of the participation ral good sense, and firmness of soul;
of Mary Queen of Scots, in the mur- but she was too easily a prey to the
der of the Earl of Darnley, her hus- artful; too easily confided in profes-
band. It leads to a multitude of cu- sions of attachment; and too willingly
rious and interesting topics. On a ge- indulged in the aspirations of love.
neral view of it, some circumstances, She was surrounded by designing, un-
perhaps not even yet sufficiently con- principled, and remorseless adversa-
sidered, appeared to me to afford strong ries, and scarcely had a friend.
legitimate prejudices both in her fa To Elizabeth, it is impossible to
vour and against her.
deny great talents, great strength of
I. In her favour, it may be said, mind, great intrepidity, and inflexible
That, abstractedly from this crime, steadiness of purpose ;-or not to ad-
and the circumstances immediately mit that she was selfish, envious, ma-
connected with it, the character of licious, and vindictive; that the hap-
Mary is uniformly amiable, and gene- piness of others, except so far as she
rally respectable. She appears in his herself was interested in it, was indiffe-
tory to have been good-natured, and rent to her; and that her jealousy of


1821. )
Mary Queen of Scots.
195
the connubial joys of others, and her Two other circumstances may be
prevention of them, when this was in thought to raise a reasonable prejudice
her power, were singularly hateful. against her.
Every part of the history of her reign 1. She does not explicitly deny her
shews, that to accomplish any object, guilt, either at the time of her execu-
particularly the ruin of a powerful ene- tion, or in her letter to Elizabeth.
my, there was no wickedness to which can this be otherwise accounted for,
she would not resort, -no perfidy, no than by her unwillingness to plunge
duplicity of which she was not capa- into eternity with an untruth on her
ble; and that, both in England and lips? She appears to have died in great
Scotland, her ministers and subordi- sentiments of religion, and consequent-
nate agents co-operated, without any ly with a fear of the eternal fires which,
compunctious feelings, beyond a rem under this impression, she must have
gard to their own safety, in her de- believed would follow such a solemn,
signs, and became active instruments deliberate, and persisted-in untruth.
for carrying them into execution. What, then, but a consciousness of
It must be added, that throughout guilt would have withheld her from
the conflict between Mary and Eliza- proclaiming her innocence in her dying
beth, and during more than a century moments ?
afterwards, the presses both of Scot 2. James had much intercourse with
land and England were wholly at the Denmark, and upon his marriage with
command of Elizabeth and the favour. Ann, its princess-royal, spent a whole
ers of her cause.
winter at Copenhagen. Now, Both-
This general view of the case raises well lived in captivity in that city du-
legitimate prejudices in favour of Mary ring several years, but no anthentic in-
and against Elizabeth. The former is formation favourable to Mary, was
increased by this circumstance, that ever obtained from Denmark.
though the whole power of the state In answer to the first observation,
was in the possession of Mary's ene- it has been said that it was beneath
mies,--and though immediately after Mary to deny such a crime; but could
the murder of Darnley they became the denial of ithave been really beneath
masters of several persons actively en- her, under any circumstances? Was
gaged in the perpetration of that crime, it so, under the actual circumstances
yet none of them criminated Mary; of her case ? Some of these were cer-
nor is a single fact, which has the na- tainly of a nature to raise reasonable
ture of direct evidence, brought against suspicion of her guilt, and therefore
her.
placed her on the defensive.
II. On the other hand—The marriage In answer to the second observation,
of Mary with Bothwell, so soon after it has been said that James, in reality,
the murder of Darnley, particularly never did interest himself in the cause
on account of the general suspicion of of Mary; and very soon after the tra-
his having contrived and participated gical event took place, made his terms
in it, and of the two rapid divorces with Cecil, and her other adversaries.
which accomanied it,-raises a strong of this indifference of James to his
legitimate prejudice against her. mother and to her good name, there
But we must make great allowance certainly is some evidence ;-his com-
for the effect which the bond of the munications with Cecil admit of no
nobles, recommending the marriage to doubt.
Mary, (which bond Hume justly calls III. The examinations at York and
a reproach to the nation,) must have Westminster, and the famous letters,
had on her mind, and for the extreme are subjects which few have time to in-
need in which she stood of the marital vestigate.
support of a powerful, active, and at One circumstance is considered by
tached nobleman. Such she thought- Mr Laing, in his Historical Discus-
and certainly had some reason to think sion on the Murder of Darnley, as
she should find in Bothwell It is highly unfavourable to Mary. In the
also observable, that only a few months first instance, she submitted her cause
before the murder of Darnley, she had to the decision of Elizabeth; she af-
formally given her royal consent to the terwards, on grounds which that able
marriage of Both well. Her subsequent writer represents as mere pretences,
union with him, to be effected by the declined her umpirage.
murder of Darnley, could not then have But, even if this was the case, may
been in her contemplation.
it not be excused ? Nothing can be


196
Mary Queen of Scots.
[May,
more kind, respectful, or judicious, of Elizabeth ; that she should be con-
than the professions of Elizabeth to fronted with her accusers; and that
her captive relative. Mary confided in the originals of the letters which form-
them; every person must admit this ed the principal, if not the sole proof
to have been unwise. Such the Bi- of her guilt, should be produced to
shop of Ross, and such Lord Herries, lier.
her two only real friends, thought it. All were denied. For the denial of
Such, too, after the conferences began, the first, Elizabeth could not be justly
Mary herself thought it. But it was blamed, if she had not admitted the
then too late to retract directly the pro- accusers of Mary into the most confi-
mise of submission ; she was therefore dential communications with herself
driven to the necessity of eluding it in and her ministers ; but no apology yet
the best manner the case allowed. offered, by the apologists of Elizabeth,
It is, however, needless to plead this for her refusals to allow Mary to be
From the first to the last, confronted with her accusers, or to
Mary insisted on three things,-that have her original letters produced to
she should be admitted to the presence her, is satisfactory.
S.
excuse.
MANCHESTER versus
66
MANCHESTER POETRY.”
TO CHRISTOPHER NORTH, ESQ.
About half-past six in the evening she sat in the dark on the cellar-head,
of the 30th ultimo, I was indulging in and heard the outrageous liquor fizzing
a deep cogitation upon the chemical and fizzing through the interstices of
affinities of white sugar and Bohea, in the bung, afraid, poor soul, to venture
a snug little wainscoated parlour in the down, and give it a friendly tap with
vicinity of Charlton Row. The day the poker-head, I was rapidly running
had been insufferably hot: my land- over the contents of the aforesaid publi-
lady's tea-pot was drained to the dregs; cation, from the musky-visag'd portrait
and the leaves themselves were begin- of Georgie Buchanan, to the specificim-
ning to deploy from its capacious spout. primer of Jemmy Ballantyne. The old
One of these precious relics fell upon lady had already arrivedat the necessity
the disordered tray, and, on examining of bottling her incoinparable liquor to
* it, I was convinced, that Jeffrey and prevent it turning sour, when Man-
his tribe were as real patriots, as that chester Poetry, plain black and white,
was a genuine tea-leaf. Accum, tests, stared me in the face. It was then be
poison, and perdition, at once rushed yond the hour for visiting “one of the
upon the imagination; and I imagined societies on the plan of the Edinburgh
the infernal compound bad already Speculative;" but a paramount curio-
commenced its demoralizing influence sity to examine this momentous notice,
on my unfortunate pancreas. Hence overcaine every terror of the president's
forward I determined to order my tea reprimand, or the secretary's forfeit-
from the “genuine tea company's ware book. Candles were ordered, the door
house," and altogether to discard the bolted, and I drew my legs upon the
copper tea-kettle which was nightly comfortable sofa, not doubting I should
polished to perfection by my indus- still arrive at the aforesaid meeting, by
trious hostess.
the time one half its members were
It was this last idea, concerning the up to the neck in the metaphysical bog
fondness that mankind evince for ar of causation.
ticles of a brazen complexion (the as Unfortunately, however, this was
sociation of ideas is peculiar) which not the case, and about half-past nine
engaged me, when a gentle tap inter- I was sent for in a great hürry (the
rupted my reveries, and ushered thy president had fallen asleep) to appease
delectable publication to my hands. a violent uproar, occasioned by a per-
Whilst the attentive Mrs Taperwaist sonal altercation between two sublime
was removing the remnants of the re searchers after truth, who, from being
past, seasoning her labour ever and most philosophically engaged, had pro-
anon with some dolefu'exclamations ceeded most scientifically to blows,
on the awfu’ lightning there had been palpably demonstrating the existence
that afternoon, which had spoiled her of cause and effect. [My essay on the
a 13-gallon cask of small beer, whilst subject, which fills four reams of pa-


1821.]
Manchester versus
“ Manchester Poetry.”
197
per, closely written, will make Thomas fane oath, as caused my Dutch-built
Brown a complete fool. It's a pity he's landlady (Mrs Taperwaist) to jump
not alive to read it. At the last meet- three cubic feet from the chair on which
ing of the royal society, it was read, she was sitting in the next apartment.
and received with three times three. And notwithstanding my endeavours
I'll sell the copy-right for a handsome to keep down my choler, during the
sum.] I soon quieted them by men- progress of reading, -" this volatility
tioning your attack, and telling them of spirit, this forcible and indomitable
all their speeches made at the last meet- action of mind, this never-tiring, (cursed
ing, some fifteen-fifteenths of which fatiguing by the bye,) and never-weak-
were copied from Rees's Cyclopædia, ening intellectual energy, this bounding
were published in Blackwood's Maga- and unceasing mental (bodily) elastici-
zine. The scene that ensued was unique ty” very nearly resembling battledoor
in its kind. Rough drafts, outlines, and and shuttlecock, so wearied, perplexed,
heads of speeches; replies Nos. 1, 2, and irritated me, that I fairly wished
3, and 4, as might be required ; writ- the author, essay, magazine, and pub-
ten on old bills of parcels, the backs of lisher, “ instantaneously concocted into
letters, and ledger-leaves ; of every chyle;" or within a reasonable distance
possible shade between a sullied white of the “boa constrictor's huge gulph.”
and a confirmed black, were tumbled Popular hostility, however, as well as
from every pocket in the room. One private ought to give place to candid
begged to shew the meeting-what, criticism and allowance ; and when ex-
how much, and whence, he had ex ercised against a deserving subject, will
tracted his materials, solely, wholly, only in the end reflect disgrace
upon it-
and entirely, to direct, refect, or select, self, for an unworthy exercise of power.
his own opinions. Another was exceed- And although this good town may, in
ingly anxious-to-to-(thumping the the “ prurient" imagination of a few
table)—to shew how—that is, there “pullulating” wits,
was no cause for the effect produced "excogitations” of a second Diogenes,
-(loud laughter, I suppose,) —no cause be, perhaps, “ shorn of some of its
for-but I requested to be put in pos- beams," it will “ at length experience a
session of those documents, to illus- renewal of its brightness, and receive its
trate the answer I was then preparing merited due at the hands of posterity.”
to the insolent impugners of local In the first place, my dear Christo-
talent, and of their's in particular. pher, I am inclined to question the
Whereupon the hearty thanks of the verity of thy emissaries, notwithstand-
meeting were voted me; and the trea- ing thou art so very select in their ap-
surer directed to purchase a half-crown pointment. The fogs and mists which
copy of Jack the Giant-killer, as a to so closely envelope our native yous
ken of their obligation. [At some fu- may have exercised their subtle in-
ture time, I'll send you a copy of these fluence on these gentlemen's vision,
curious documents : they will entirely which will account for the distorted
supersede Hazlitt's parliamentary elo- portraits transmitted to thee.
quence; and may be of infinite use to I believe there is no writing extant,
rising rhetoricians.]
in which the respective merits of the li-
But to return to my sofa— When I terary characters” of Manchester "
arrived at that part of thy observations, made the subject of comparative criti-
which declares thy patronage of es- cism," and I think it would be no
pionage, " I mounted up with the bril- less disagreeable to the distinguished
liancy and rapidity of a sky-rocket ;" amongst that class, than painful to
and though I did not “scatter about those of less conspicuous talent, were
me sparks and scintillations which en- I to publish an invidious criticism upon
lightened the whole atmosphere of litera- their individual productions, or to
ture," I certainly uttered such a pro- throw down the apple of discord, that
are
• It may be proper to mention, that much of the language of this reply is adopted
from an elegant Essay on the respective merits of Warburton and Johnson, published in
the December number. The author will immediately perceive the intention; and
his good-humour will induce him readily to forgive so innocent a larceny; since it will
have the effect of introducing that Essay to more general and particular perusal. Where
such liberties have been taken, the passages are printed in Italics, that the whole extent
of the obligation may be appreciated.


198
Manchester versus “ Manchester Poetry." [May,
some Trojan boy might shew his skill evening. So that we are not without
in the adjudication of it. Besides, I inducement to lave our skulls in the
know asmuch aboutchemistry, mecha- waters of Helicon, even though there
nics, or medicine, as a mole knows of were none of thy Magazines to pour
gas-light, and therefore am not quali- the oil and wine of wisdom into their
fied to be the umpire in such a contest. recesses.- Indeed, I am astonished
Some general observations, neverthe, thou shouldst risk the sale of 764 co-
less, upon the manifest inapplicability pies of thy work, which I know to be
of such a sweeping censure as thou hast disposed of here, by paying such a
pronounced upon the taste of the town, sorry compliment to the ninnies that
may not be without their particular delight in it: but
benefit ;" because they will compre Folly loves the martyrdom of fame;
hend, not only the worshipped lumi. And thou art jealous of our talents-that's
naries of our intellectual sphere, but plain.
also those “ who oppose themselves to For to say nothing of our skill in
the standard corps of literature, in the the exalted science of belfry music
confidence of individual power," and or in the surprising acumen of our
through the telescopic channel of a pit and gallery critics in theatrical tac-
goose-quill, discover“
new paths in tics or the depth of our knowing ones
learning," and "
new vistas in know- at the Manchester Turf Meeting or
ledge; they will be of use in display, our great skill in prize-fighting, and
ing—" how far it is possible for abili- race-running-thou canst not be ig.
ties the most splendid, to seduce their norant of our unrivalled celebrity in
possessor to extravagance in the search thorough-bass-singing, which is the
for originality, (that is, caricaturing a distinguishing feature of the neigh-
whole town, a very original idea, by bourhood. Couldst thou once hear an
my credit,) and how transient and mo- anthem at Prestwich church, solo, duo,
mentary is the fame of paradoxical in, trio, and all o, thou would'st utterly
genuity, (alluding to the laugh created discard the nobility's ancient concerts,
by the former article, and the dismay nor refer to Lavater for the physiog-
produced by this answer) when com- nomy of the human countenance. Ne
pared with that which rests on the im ver were such pains taken to debase
mobility of established truth.”—Yes, the man's frontispiece, or to rival the mul-
im-mo-bi-li-ty of established truth ! tiplied distortions of lunacy. Now this
Certainly our Manchester bucks aforementioned celebrity I take to be
were never much celebrated for their wholly attributable to the beneficial in-
metrical propensities ; nor perhaps fluence of our cotton factories, which
would it be advantageous to exchange doubtless act as a tonic to the lungs;
pounds sterling, day-books, and bar or perhaps to some “lurking particles
ter, for trochees, anapæsts, and rhy- of the cotton, not carried off by expec-
ming dictionaries; or to enliven our toration;" which impart that rough,
mules and jennies with the Isle of raspy depth to the voice, that entire
Palms instead of the oil of whales. But ly supersedes the necessity of bassoons
these gentlemen of the neck-cloth can, and serpents in our churches and cha-
with few exceptions, say the Lord's pels. So that some benefits do accrue
Prayer, and decline hic hæc hoc, ge- from these huge lazarettos, the smoke
nitive hujus ; and may be got through and fume of which are so disconcerting
some dozen sentimentalities from By- to thy spies ; for if they prevent a clear
ron, or Moore. But where's the use perception of the poetical jingle, they
of their invoking the Muses, when contribute to the increase of harmony,
they are provoked by droppings of in- and music and poetry are said to be
spiration from a stone, in which the twin sisters. They intercept, to be
measure and the meaning are most sure, those "rain-bow beaming rays,
happily profundified ? so that that, which flash upon the aspirants for
that that person means," is as trans- worldly immortality ; but psalmody
parent as a balk of mahogany. Passim, divine, with the simple, plain truths
they have verses made in a passion at of Sternhold and Hopkins, have more
a rookery in Middleton, a little insig- charms for us than
nificant town in the neighbourhood ; or -Butler's wit, Pope's numbers, Prior's
a few original stanzas, prepared by a case,
mercurial process, and volunteered for With all that fancy can invent to please.
the benefit of the clubs on a Saturday And we are to be unmercifully
7


1821.] Manchester versus " Manchester Poetry.”
199
belaboured, too, because our gentry not understood, although a certain doce
are partial to their bowls of Falernian, tor mistook it for a string of serious
and do not make long speeches in the hypotheses. Now it has struck me,
high places. Now, although I have that this might cease to be regarded
well-nigh forgotten my classical quo. merely as an effort of wit, and be apa
tations, I think it has been the prac plied to some practical advantages, if
tice of every moon-struck votary of the author would render his theory in-
the Muses, who has had his eye-lids telligible to common sense, and fa-
touched with the three living drops, shion, in the alembic of his ingenuity,
from Homer and Pindar, down to a set of ideas which would correspond
Dibdin, and your Dolon inclusive, to with the various members of a roasted
laud the potent effects of that most goose, (a dish highly in fashion here)
Christian-like beverage, which often or any other usual appendage of a feast.
makes men moralize, when sermons For example, if I wished to express
cannot. Indeed, the whole charge is an opinion of an anti-Malthusian,
wrong; for the generality of our po- without impediment to the mastica-
pulation do not drink port, but sacri- ting process, I should clear the brains
fice most copiously to Johny Barley- from the goose's head, hold the skull
corn. As to the “damning form," that on my fork, and shake it at my neigh-
may be correct enough, since such bour: if lie thought the idea good, he
vehement asseverations are a distin. would partially smile, and shake the
guishing feature in their character. It merry thought at me. We, (that is
will be well if thy liberal rewards, un Manchester by-payers, for what with
der the name of salaries, do not lead dinner-parties, and taxes, I have run
the zeal of thy servants to outstrip their through my patrimony, and am oblie
discretion. Whenever a man from a ged to live in lodgings; No. 275 A,
far country visiteth me, I shall mi, if you ever call upon me) are open.
nutely examine his physiognomy, and hearted, generous, and hospitable, and
mark his propensities; lest, while I discard many of the polite innovations
be killing for him the fatted calf, and upon English comfort. As “ Saginam
uncorking for him my double brown cædite," exercise your grinders, was the
stout, he be merely a vagrant emissary signal in former times ; " now, boys,
of thine, taking note whether I wipe lay to,” is the token in this. But what
my mouth before I drink, or eat mock- elegant refinements may not be expect
turtle from a fish-plate. Most fierce- ed, now that this courtly Mæcenas hath
ly do our leading knights of the care undertaken our polish, and seasoned
ver threaten thee, should'st thou ever the mental and bodily repasts of my
pitch thy tent so far south, for limit- townsmen with the savour of his Attic
ing the freedom of their feasts; since salt? Thy partiality for long speeches,
seven courses might be easily partaken savours strongly of whiggism. Sure-
of and three pint bottles per man most ly, Christopher, thou art not an advo-
comfortably deposited, by our present cate for that fawning, flattering, loqua-
laws, without one interchange of con- cious vanity, which is most at ease
versation, save. Take a little more when its left foot is drawn back; its
stuffing, Jack."-" Stuffing enough, left hand in the bosom ; its white bea-
thank thee!" There is, however, a ver in the right ; and itself twisted
plan, by which the glorious delights and twined into every attitude likely
of the banquet might still be enjoyed to attract the attention of the gaping
unbroken, and yet some mental ali- Jebusites, who are content to swallow
ment be mingled with the repast. a little unctious mummery, and to be
Amongst the published papers of that bespattered, for hours together, with
society, which thou sayest is growing all as the holiday and lady terms” that
old, and which is a bouncing f-i-b, since enrich the specious vocabulary of mo-
there are more youths in it, training dern orators!
up in the way they should go, than in And dost thou really believe, Chris-
the parish work-house-well, I say, topher, that we Manchester folks, pas-
amongst those papers, is one on the sionately attached as we are to the
Signs of Ideas, (as a pestle and a drama, could swallow Conscience at the
mortar suggest the idea of an apothe suggestion of any printer or printer's
cary) which is a most humorous and devil? That we could really give cre-
ironical satire upon the folly of theo- dence to " a lecture utterly disproving
rising too deeply on subjects that are the devil and all his works," whilst the
VOL. IX.
2 B


200
Manchester versus " Manchester Poetry.”. [May,
existence of such a being was proved, is impossible to conjecture. This emis-
by the known residence of thy emissary sary of thine, and , Christopher, (for
amongst us? That we needed “sere we are marvellously old cronies, he sit-
mons," to bring us the refreshing com- ting at my elbow whilst I write this,
forts of sleep, when we take Jeffrey's though he little thinks what a smo-
blue pill every quarter-day? Christo- king I am giving him,) have had ma-
pher North, thou hast not measured ny a hard tug at rough draughts of
our intellect by the standard gauge ; deeds, and smooth draughts of porter ;
else wouldst thou not have been led to and he should not forget “ The many
such inconsistencies ; nor, hadst thou coloured gems of genius” that shine in
measured our intellect by the standard the “ Prologue spoken before a Private
gauge, wouldst thou have brought the Theatrical Performance at Manches-
ghost of Paynter's muse, from the tomb ter;" which said prologue I recited
in which we saw her quietly inurned, for him, in a manner that would per-
to disturb our Easter revelries.-"A fectly have astounded Kean or Young.
man who cannot build up a hovel,” Besides which, not many months ago,
says Samuel Johnson,“may pull down we'actually visited one of these “minor
a temple ;" and even if the general im- societies," convinced (whether “ the
becility of Mr Paynter's publication deceit was occasioned by the reveries
were not in a degree palliated by the of a fer vid imagination, or the insinua-
inartificial talent with which it is writ- ting" dexterity of self-love," I can't
ten, it ought, nevertheless, to be ex- pretend to say,) that we should soon
empted, in respect to the motive which cut a conspicuous figure. Somehow
led to its publication, from that mer- or other we did not succeed, notwith-
ciless species of criticism in which you, standing we set a very proper example
my dear fellow, have indulged. A in pertinaciously adhering to Lindley
stranger to its unfortunate author, and wlurray; but
little less than such to the work itself, Grammar in vain the sons of Priscian teach;
I yet cannot approve that“ unconquer- Good facts are better than eight parts of
able propensity for adjusting and fa-
speech.
shioning every thing according to the
decrees of some standard hypothesis ; In short, we were little attended to;
and on which, like the bed of Procrustes, and perceiving, after a few trials, that
you rack and torture every subject, till Heaven did not mean us for orators,
you have reduced it, by a process of dis. (although I practised with three mar-
location, into some conformity with your bles in my mouth every night for a
theories." Indeed, if one may judge month, under the new bridge,) we sent
by the specimens given to the public, in a resignation, which was politely ac-
by your spy and the Muse in Idleness, cepted, but with this intimation, that
.“ in poetical genius and capability it as we had left the camp as deserters,
would perhaps be unfair to compare
it was hoped we should never return
them;" for the productions of the one, as spies.” * I have, since then, most
to use his own words, “are such as scrupulously stuck to the parchment,
many a school-boy would be ashamed to and never ventured within two streets
own;" and the efforts of the latter, as of this controversial tabernacle. I wish,
yourself have declared, are calculated most sincerely, my brother of the quill
to excite“ an universal spirit of emu- had attended to the afore-mentioned
lation in the minds of all; from the nota bene, since there are threats, and
lowest factory-boy to the highest cot- rumours of threats, against your un-
ton-spinner.
known spy. Indeed, every morning
There are some persons, who, in their when I pass the muddy reservoir, in
over-weening anxiety to lubricate and which our poetical painter saw the dead
swallow the whole posse-comitatus of dogs floating, which he mistook for
satirical subjects, cannot even spare swans, I turn away my head, lest I
their nearest affections, nor grant a should find my dear friend Dick, in his
plenary indulgence to their own pec- black Saxony coat, scudding before the
cadilloes. Why attornies' clerks are to wind, with that cursed Magazine about
be unmercifully lashed for writing pro- his neck for a main-sail. Sorely do I
logues and speculations on free-will, it fear for his safety; and, if he escape
• Sheridan to Burke.


1821.) Manchester versus “ Manchester Poetry."
201
with life, I fear they will make him success will mainly depend upon the
take a draught of their Manchester unanimity of both parties. And with
sticks.
respect to the Society, I think I shall
Amongst other damning sins, we be elected president when the present
are accused of ordering our books of gentleman filling that situation, and
plates and books of pattern cards, by some two or three of the vice-presi-
the same conveyance; and of being dents are dead, and therefore it would
even likely to vie with the elegant, be imprudent in every respect. I may,
learned, and amiable historian of Lo- nevertheless, assert, that among the
renzo de Medicis. I advise my fel- recently-published papers of that So-
low townsmen to take warning by my ciety, and also amongst those which.
example, and still to continue this sa« have indeed been read, but which,
ving practice, if they wish to maintain, from the native modesty of genuine
in opposition to their more dashing talent, are withheld from the press,
exemplars in a neighbouring sea-port, there are many that exhibit the most
that prudent and praiseworthy thrifti- forcible and comprehensive grasp of
ness, which will enable them to unite, understanding, and the most
elegant,
in their true and enviable colours, the varied, and refined endowments of
unostentatious competency of British mind, productions which will alike re-
merchants, with the munificent patron- sist the sophistries of genius and the
age of the British arts; and the plain, ravages of time, and remain admired
unwarped rhetoric of common sense, and forescent, when the essays of thy
with the pleasing and instructive lan- most witty emissary are superseded and
guage of scientific research. The same forgotten--Mine, too, Christopher ; I
glimmering of taste which induces our don't exempt my own productions.
thriving manufacturer to load his Bible It is but passing a merited eulogium
and Psalter with a profusion of Mo- on our poorer fellow-townsmen to as-
rocco and gold, will, by the prudence sert, that, for the confined advantages
which I recommend, enable him, in his which have fallen to their lot, they
established prosperity, to fill the shelves combine most unequivocal shrewdness
of his library with whatever is curious of intellect with very correct judga
and amusing; and to line the walls of ment upon general topics; and that,
his mansion with the finest produc- when left to the sober current of their
tions of genius and art. It is, indeed, own feelings, and unpolluted by the
the far-spread reputation of this lite- poisonous doctrines of designing men,
rary and scientific town, whether they constitute a population at once
founded in error or truth availeth the pride and ornament of their coun-
not, which brings every library of con- try, and fit and deserving subjects to
sequence to its mart, and every ob- a King of England. And, amongst
seure individual to its fostering pro- the more generally-educated, - the
tection. So that its inhabitants, not- proprietors of commercial establish-
withstanding " the unsparing hand of ments,--the members of the learned
this relentless satirist, whose portraits professions, -and particularly the re-
are often less of true resemblances than verend brethren of the established and
real caricatures,” will be found,“ in dissenting communities, the same na-
the discharge of the social relations of tural advantages are eminently posa
life, to be equally faultless and exem- sessed. Indeed, this town, like any
plary."
other, no doubt, of equal extent, can
After this general commendation, it boast every degree and shade of talent
would perhaps not be well to particu- in the pulpit, from the pure, pious,
larize individual talent, either in the eloquent, and orthodox dissertations
body of the Manchester people, or in of our modern Tillotson, to the linsey-
the Literary and Philosophical Society woolsey fabrics of the rude, though sin-
of which you have spoken so slighting- gularly-acute stocking-weaver, that left
ly. For between you and me, though Looms and stockings in the lurch,
I should not like it to go forth to the And fell to mend and patch the church.
world, the Whigs fancy they have all There is one other topic to which I
the talents; and as I do not think so, would allude, ere my candle is com-
it would be unwise to lose the chance pletely out, and my noble self most ir-
which I have of becoming the Mem- recoverably drowsy, that is, the Man-
ber for this town, in case the elective chester business-Friend Christopher,
franchise be extended to it, by endea-. I am as staunch a friend to my King
vouring to prove the contrary, as my and the constitution as thou can'st pos-


202
Manchester versus “ Manchester Poetry."
[May,
sibly be: ["damn form," and drink servant again to be suspended—the
healths five fathoms deep, upon the peaceful security of our hamlets, and
natal day of our gallant, and buxom, the accumulated wealth of our towns
and beloved monarch : his health, God again to be endangered—the majesty
bless him ! is the first which I toast at of our civil tribunals, and the sanctity
my own table, and a song to his pros- of our venerable establishments again
perity, is the last which enlivens my to be profaned-amid the horror, and
humble board. I do not mind a bro- the confusion, and the destruction, of
ken head in defence of his honour, and such a struggle, I should recommend,
my purse hath ever been unstrung to as the first offering to the sabres of our
assert, by every sacrifice and exertion, gallant soldiers,--the dove-tailed sen-
the unsullied dignity of his throne. tences, and the flagitious witticims of
But, whilst I most conscientiously these most fair, most impartial, but,
agree in the necessity of the inter- thank Heaven, most impotent and self-
ference alluded to, and most firmly blinded demagogues.
believe that the salvation of the dis-
trict was effected by it, I hold that man Whilst penning the above remarks,
to be beneath all contempt who would I thought that the best disproof I could
perpetuate its unhappy consequences, offer of our mental obtuseness would
by continued ribaldry, and eternize the be a specimen of my own verses, being
painful recollections with which it is bred and brought up at the feet of Ga-
associated. And however determined- maliel, who is our parish schoolmaster.
ly the leading characters of this our I had accordingly been dotting my
town might co-operate in that inter- finger nails, and scratching my head,
ference, and however undauntedly they a full half hour, to no purpose, when
have abided by the consequences of my most dear friend, Mr Michael
their own intrepid execution of the Napperskin was introluced. Without
laws, I know there is not one of them, uttering a syllable, he drew thy Maga-
independent, honourable, and trulyzine from his pocket, opened it to the
English gentlemen as they are, whose leaf folded down at Manchester Poetry,
eye does not drop a tear for every drop and, biting his lip most methodically,
of blood which was shed upon that oc- asked, “Is that piece of impertinent
casion, and who would not rather for- flippancy your writing?"-"No, by all
feit his fortune or his life, than wit- the Gods in the Pantheon," responded
ness such another insurrection in the I. “ Then, I know whose it is, and
very heart of this favoured country. I'll answer it," continued he. “You
Nor hath language force enough to ex- may save yourself the trouble," quoth
press the abhorrence in which every 1, "it's already done; there it is, read.”
humane and patriotic bosom will hold He accordingly perused the article,
those anonymous scribblers, no matter but I could see by the inflexions of his
whether Birchbottom or Squib,whether phiz that it wasn't the thing." Its
dictated by professional spleen or phi- as libellous as the other," said he,
losophical apathy, who have continual- and I will answer it.”_" It will be
ly applied the caustic of licentious wit all to no purpose, my dear Michael
to the festering sore in the mind of an Napperskin," I replied, " for I hold
irritated population, and who, in the between twenty and thirty shares in
out-pourings of their sensibility, know the proprietorship of that Magazine ;
not how
and I have, in consequence,
& voice
“ Publica privatis secernere, sacra pro- potential as the Duke's,' so that my
fanis."
article is sure to have the preference."
It may be, they will never see this re- This rather staggered Michael ; who
cord of individual opinion, or, if they was obliged to content himself with
should, that it will but serve as ali- suggestions, several of which I have
ment to feed their meretricious popu- insensibly adopted. Notwithstanding
larity; but fewer years of experience this scurvy treatment, I bear thee no
than have yellowed the greenness of malice, and am,
my days, will convey the admonition Dear Christopher,
home, and convince then, though late, Thine assured friend,
that "they have their reward."
HILDEBRAND SNAPDRAGON.
If, however, such a calamity again N. B. Do not forget to remember me
be forced upon us if the amenities of to all my friends at Edina. If I
social life are again to be interrupted should go to the north, be assured
the reciprocal offices of employer and they will find me a prime one.


1821.)
203
Annals of the Parish.
ANNALS OF THE PARISH; OR THE CHRONICLE OF DALMAILING.*
[In general, nothing appears more absurd than the insertion in a periodical work
of an article conferring high praise on a known contributor to that work. In
justification of ourselves on the present occasion, we shall only say, that the
following review of the “ Annals of the Parish,” has been sent us by a person
second to none in the modern literature of this country--a person whom we
have not, and can scarcely hope ever to have, the honour of numbering among
our regular contributors—and who, finally, is altogether ignorant even of the
name of the author whose work he criticizes.-C. N.]
In the title-page, this volume gives Scots inland village, from its compara-
itself out to be arranged and edited by tively unimproved state, in the year
the Author of “ The Ayrshire Lega- 1760, down to the modern period, the
tees,” published in several successive modern manners, the modern way of
numbers of “ Blackwood's Edinburgh living, in the year 1809; and, amidst
Magazine ;" and we think it will not at these, the reverend writer pourtrays,
all derogate from, but rather increase, with perfect sincerity, those little
the reputation which they acquired. changes which the course of his own
There is the same nature in the cha- years, as well as the course of events,
racters,—the same idiomatic plainness produced in himself. He never forgets,
in the manners and the language,—the however, his benevolence or his virtue;
same pastoral simplicity in the good and his charity for the failings of others,
old-fashioned clergyman, who is the and for those relaxations of moral dis-
principal person of the drama. It de cipline, which are perhaps inseparable
scribes the village and its inhabitants from a progressive state of society, con.
with the same particularity as Mrs tinues unabated by the prejudices of
Hamilton's well known " Cottagers of ancient recollection, by the zeal of a
Glenburnie;" and though it does not warmly religious clergyman, or an ad-
exhibit them in quite so sordid a garb herence to the rigid principles of Cal-
as that picture does, yet it dresses them vinism.
in no unnatural or affected finery; they Like the Vicar of Wakefield, Mr
have their every-day clothes, only Micah Balwhidder is the historian of
cleaner and more tidily put on than his own fireside, and the various vicis.
Mrs Hamilton's. That lady, indeed, situdes of their fortune. Of these there
we are inclined to think, went back, are not, like those of Dr Primrose, in-
for her rural picture, to a period con cidents to surprise or to interest, by
siderably distant, when she left Scot- their uncommon or romantic nature, in
land; and so, by a certain anachronism which respect the Vicar of Wakefield
in manners, represented the lower ranks has perhaps gone somewhat beyond
of Scotsmen and Scotswomen, of Scots the limits of the probability even of
cottages and Scots dairies, rather as fiction. The simple and almost uni-
they were 40 or 50 years ago, than as form journal of Mr Balwhidder is so
they will now be found. Besides, Mrs little extraordinary, as to claim from
Hamilton, writing to reform abuses and us somewhat of a belief in its reality;
errors, has perhaps caricatured them an advantage which belongs to those
in a certain degree, or brought them at narratives that give the portrait of ac-
least into a stronger light than that in tual life, (such as the works of Rich-
which they are usually seen, even by ardson), with so little of what we may
the most impartial eyes; and by such call, in a painter's language, relief in
means has, we know, given some of- the picture, as to appear Hat to some
fence to Scots people, whose patriotism, romantic readers, but which have a
though not stronger than truth, is at powerful charm for such as like to look
least not weaker than their delicacy. on nature in its native garb, without
These Annals trace, we think very the ornaments in which fancy or re-
fairly, the morals and manners of a finement delights to dress it; and there
Annals of the Parish ; or the Chronicle of Dalmailing ; During the Ministry of the
Rev. Micah Balwhidder. Written by himself. Arranged and Edited by the Author
of “ The Ayrshire Legatees." -Blackwood, Edinburgh; T. Cadell, London, 1821.


20%
Annals of the Parish.
[May,
is, as in the works of that great paint. door of the church, on the day of ore
er of ordinary life, an individuality dination, was barred up by the mal-
and minuteness in the description of content parishioners, so that the mi-
the persons, and in the detail of the nister and his attendant members of
little incidents, which, in their very the presbytery were obliged to go in
tediousness, have the strong impres- at a window. A weaver of the name
sion of truth and reality. In one pare of Thorl, took occasion, from this cir-
ticular our worther minister is much cumstance, to quote Scripture against
the reverse of Dr Primrose. So far the admission of Mr Balwhidder:
from being a monogamist, he marries “ Verily I say unto you, he that en-
successively three wives, in all of whom tereth not by the door into the sheep-
hemeets with those valuable household fold, but climbeth up some other way,
qualities which his own virtues as a the same is a thief and a robber;" but
husband deserve.
the sarcasm had no effect on the mild.
In its humorous passages this work ly-suffering temper of the minister.
has no attempt at the brilliancy of wit, “Though my people received me in this
or the strength of caricature. The unruly manner, I was resolved to cultivate
lines of its grotesque are marked with civility among them; and therefore, the
no glaring colour, but place before us very next morning I began a round of vi-
the figures as they are seen in every sitations ; but oh, it was a steep brae that
village with which we are acquainted, I had to climb, and it needed a stout heart.
and in the inhabitants of those vil- For I found the doors in some places barred
lages as we see them at their doors or they saw
me coming, ran crying to their mo,
against me; in others, the bairns, when
their firesides. They look, and speak, thers, Here's the feckless Bless-John ;'
and act, as is natural to their situa- and then when I went in into the houses,
tion, and are not forced into attitudes their parents would no ask me to sit down,
either of the picturesque that may at- but with a scornful way, said, “Honest
tract admiration, or the ludicrous that man, what's your pleasure here?' Never-
may excite ridicule.
theless, I walked about from door to door,
In the distresses which these An, like a dejected beggar, till I got the almous
nals occasionally relate, the pathetic is deed of a civil reception, and who would
that of ordinary, not high-wrought have thought it, from no less a person than
feeling, and its language the natural the same Thomas Thorl that was so bitter
expression of affliction without the against me in the kirk on the foregoing
swell of tragedy, or the whine of senti-
day.
Thomas was standing at the door with
ment. The description is never la- his green duffle apron, and his red Kilmar-
boured with epithet, nor brought for- nock nightcap-I mind him as well as if it
ward by artificial lights thrown upon was but yesterday—and he had seen me
it by the skill of the describer ; it is going from house to house, and in what
simply of what he sees, and what we manner I was rejected, and his bowels were
believe he could not but see.
moved, and he said to me in a kind man-
Though in a work of the inartificial ner, • Come in, sir, and ease yoursel; this
kind, which the above general charac- will never do, the clergy are God's gorbies,
ter announces, it is not easy to pick and for their Master's sake it behoves us to
out remarkable or striking passages, whole parish mair against you than mysel,
respect them. There was no ane in the
the purpurei panni which some popu- but this early visitation is a symptom of
lar performances afford, we will sub- grace that I couldna have expectit from a
init to our readers a few extracts, by bird out the nest of patronage. I thanked
which they may judge of the merits of Thomas, and went in with him, and we
the work, and of the justness of the had some solid conversation together, and
character we have given of it.
I told him that it was not so much the pas-
The account of the writer's settle- tor's duty to feed the flock, as to herd them
ment in the parish of Dalmailing, (si- well; and that although there might be
tuated in that western district where, some abler with the head than me, there
to be popular a minister must be what,
was na a he within the bounds of Scotland
in modern language, we might call an
more willing to watch the fold by night and
ultra-gospel minister), is given with by day. And Thomas said he had not
heard a mair sound observe for some time,
perfect impartiality, and with that and that if I held to that doctrine in the
ineekness of temper which truly be- poopit, it would na be lang till I would
longs to the gospel, though in the work a change. I was mindit,' quoth
abuse of that word, the zeal of the he, never to set my foot within the kirke
congregation frequently forgets it. The door while you were there ; but to testify,


1921.)
Annals of the Parish.
203
and no to condemn without a trial, I'll be faith in freats, and was just an oracle of
there next Lord's day, and egg my neigh. sagacity at expounding dreams, and bodes
bours to be likewise, so ye'll no have to of every sort and description_besides, she
preach just to the bare walls and the laird's was reckoned one of the best how dies in
family.""
her day; but by this time she was grown
The first change in the manners or
frail and feckless, and she died the same
occupation of this inland parish, is year on Hallowe'en, which made every
marked in the following natural ac- body wonder, that it should have so fallen
out for her to die on Hallowe'en."
count of one of the boys going to sea.
He was the son of one of its most ami- tion, and increasing employment and
In tracing the progressive popula-
able inhabitants, a Mrs Malcolm, who wealth of a village, the Annals mark
had seen better days, the widow of a
Clyde shipmaster, who had been lost one of those reverses of which we have
at sea, and left by him with a family from too extensive or ill-managed con-
lately seen but too many examples,
of children, whose only support was
the industry of their mother.
cerns. A great cotton-mill, from which
“ It was in this year that Charlie Mal- its first owner hadderived great wealth,
colm, Mrs Malcolm's eldest son, was sent is afterwards, in the less fortunate or
to be a cabin-boy in the Tobacco trader, a
less skilful hands of his successor, so
three masted ship, that sailed between Port- much a losing adventure as to occasion
Glasgow and Virginia in America. She the company's stopping payment. The
was commanded by Captain Dickie, an Ir. fatal consequences are strongly but
ville man ; for at that time the Clyde was simply set forth in the annals of the
supplied with the best sailors from our year when this happened. The melan-
coast, the coal-trade with Ireland being a choly spectacle of a thousand poor
better trade for bringing up good mariners people, suddenly thrown out of em-
than the long voyages in the open sea i ployment and deprived of subsistence,
which was the reason, as I often heard said,
why the Clyde shipping got so many
of
is set before us in unexaggerated but
their men from our country-side. The go- striking description. The dreadful ef-
ing to sea of Charlie Malcolm was, on di- fects of the disorder in one family, are
vers accounts, a very remarkable thing to
thus described in a passage which may
us all, for he was the first that ever went be given as a fair specimen of that sim-
from our parish, in the memory of man, to ple pathetic which I have above men-
be a sailor, and every body was concerned tioned, as belonging to this little book.
at it, and some thought it was a great ven “ Among the overseers, there was a Mr
ture of his mother to let him, his father Dwining, an Englishman from Manches-
having been lost at sea. But what could ter, where he had seen better days, having
the forlorn widow do ? She had five wcans had himself there of his own property, once
and little to give them ; and, as she herself as large a mill, according to report, as the
said, he was aye in the hand of his Maker, Cayenneville mill. He was certainly a man
go where he might, and the will of God above the common, and his wife was a lady
Fould be done in spite of all earthly wiles in every point; but they held themselves
and devices to the contrary.
by themselves, and shunned all manner of
“On the Monday morning, when Charlie civility, giving up their whole attention to
was to go away to meet the Irville carrier their two little boys, who were really like
on the road, we were all up, and I walked creatures of a better race than the callans of
by myself from the Manse into the clachan our clachan.
to bid him farewell, and I met him just “ On the failure of the company, Mr
coming from his inother's door, as blithe as Dwining was observed by those who were
a bee, in his sailor's dress, with a stick, and present, to be particularly distressed, his
a bundle tied in a Barcelona silk handker- salary being his all ; but he said little, and
chief hanging o'er his shoulder, and his went thoughtfully home. Some days after
two little brothers were with him, and his he was seen walking by himself with a pale
sisters, Kate and Effie, looking out from face, a heavy eye, and a slow pace—all to-
the door all begreeten ; but his mother was kens of a sorrowful heart. Soon after he
in the house, praying to the Lord to pro. was missed altogether; nobody saw him.
tect her orphan, as she afterwards told me. The door of his house was however open,
All the weans of the clachan were gathered and his two pretty boys were as lively as
at the kirk-yard yett to see him pass, and usual, on the green before the door. I hap-
they gave him three great shouts as he was pened to pass when they were there, and I
going bye; and every body was at their asked them how their father and mother
doors, and said something encouraging to were. They said they were still in bed,
him; but there was a great laugh when and would not waken, and the innocent
auld Mizy Spaewell came hirpling with lambs took me by the hand, to make me
her bachle in her hand, and Aung it after waken their parents. I know not what was
hiin for gude luck. Mizy had a wonderful in it, but I trembled from head to Root, and


206
Annals of the Parish.
[May,
I was led in by the babies, as if I had not Jamaica, had built a nest of affection in
power to resist. Never shall I forget what my heart. But, oh! the wicked wastry of
I saw in that bed
• life in war. In less than a month after, the
news came of a victory over the French
I found a letter on the table ; and I came fieet, and by the same post I got a letter
away, locking the door behind me, and took from Mr Howard, that was the midship-
the lovely prattling orphans home. I could man who came to see us with Charles, tell,
but shake my head and weep, as I gave ing me that poor Charles had been mortal-
them to the care of Mrs Balwhidder, and ly wounded in the action, and had after-
she was terrified, but said nothing. I then wards died of his wounds." He was a hero
read the letter. It was to send the bairns in the engagement,' said Mr Howard, “and
to a gentleman, their uncle, in London. he died as a good and a brave man should."
Oh it is a terrible tale, but the winding. These tidings gave me one of the sorest
sheet and the earth is over it. I sent for hearts I ever suffered, and it was long be-
two of my elders. I related what I had fore I could gather fortitude to disclose the
seen. Two coffins were got, and the bo- tidings to poor Charles's mother. But the
dies laid in them; and the next day, with callants of the school had heard of the vic-
one of the fatherless bairns in each hand, I tory, and were going shouting about, and
followed them to the grave, which was dug had set the steeple bell a-ringing, by which
in that part of the kirk-yard where ún. Mrs Malcolm heard the news; and know.
christened babies are laid.' We durst not ing that Charles's ship was with the fleet,
take it upon us to do more ; but few knew she came over to the anse in great anxie-
the reason, and some thought it was be- ty, to hear the particulars, somebody tell-
cause the deceased were strangers, and had ing her that there had been a foreign letter
no regular lair.
to me by the post-man.
“ I dressed the two bonny orphans in the
“ When I saw her I could not speak,
best mourning at my own cost, and kept but looked at her in pity, and the tear flee.
them in the Manse till we should get an ing up into my eyes, she guessed what had
answer from their uncle, to whom I sent happened. After giving a deep and sore
their father's letter. It stung him to the sigh, she inquired, * How did he behave ?
quick, and he came down all the way from I hope well, for he was aye a gallant lad-
London, and took the children away him- die !-and then she wept very bitterly.
self. O he was a vext man, when the However, growing calmer, I read to her
beautiful bairns, on being told he was their the letter, and when I had done, she beg.
uncle, ran into his arms, and complained ged me to give it to her to keep, saying,
that their papa and mamma had slept so
It's all that I have now left of my pretty
long, that they would never waken." boy; but it's mair precious to me than the
Another example of the pathetic, of wealth of the Indies ;” and she begged me
a tenderer, but less shocking kind, will to return thanks to the Lord, for all the
be found in the twenty-third chapter. comforts and manifold mercies with which
Although I have not been particular in her lot had been blessed, since the hour she
noticing it, from time to time, there had put her trust in Him alone, and that was
been an occasional going off
, at fairs and when she was left a pennyless widow, with
on market-days, of the lads of the parish her five fatherless bairns.
as soldiers, and when Captain Malcolm
“ It was just an edification of the spirit, to
got the command of his ship, no less than
sce the Christian resignation of this worthy
four young men sailed with liim from the woman. Mrs Balwhidder was confounded,
clachan ; so that we were deeper and deep- and said,
there was more sorrow in seeing
er interested in the proceedings of the dole- the deep, grief of her fortitude, than tongue
could tell.
ful war, that was raging in the plantations.
By one post we heard of no less than three “ Having taken a glass of wine with her,
brave fellows belonging to us being slain I walked out to conduct her to her own
in one battle, for which there was a loud house, but in the way we met with a se-
and general lamentation.
vere trial. All the weans were out para-
“ Shortly after this, I got a letter from ding with napkins and kail-blades on sticks,
Charles Malcolm, a very pretty letter it in- rejoicing and triumphing in the glad tidings
deed was ; he had heard of my Lord Egles. of victory. But when they saw me and Mrs
ham's murder, and grieved for the loss, Malcolm coming slowly along, they guess-
both because his lordship was a good man, ed what had happened, and threw away their
and because he had been such a friend to banners of joy; and, standing all up in a
him and his family. But,' said Charles, row, with silence and sadness, along the
• the best way that I can shew my grati- kirk-yard wall as we passed, shewed an in-
tude for his patronage, is to prove myself stinct of compassion that penetrated to my
a good officer to my King and country.' very soul. The poor mother burst into
Which I thought a brave sentiment, and fresh affliction, and some of the bairns into
was pleased thercat ; for somchow Charles, an audible weeping; and, taking one ano-
from the time he brought me the limes to ther by the hand, they followed us to her
make a bowl of punch, in his pocket from door, like mourners at a funeral Nerer
3


1881.]
Annals of the Parish.
was such a sight seen to any town before admonitions and revelations in the acred
The neighbours came to look at it, as we book. Knowing this, I perceived that it
walked along, and the men turned aside would be of no effect to handle much the
to hide their faces, while the mothers press mysteries of the faith ; but as there was at
ed their babies, fondlier to their bosoms, the time a bruit and a sound about univer.
and watered their innocent faces with their sal benevolence, philanthropy, utility, and
tears.
all the other disguises with which an infi-
“ I prepared a suitable sermon, taking as del philosophy appropriated to itself the
the words of my text, “Howl, ye ships of charity, brotherly love, and well-doing in-
Tarshish, for your strength is laid waste.' culcated by our holy religion, I set myself
But when I saw around me so many of my to task upon these heads, and thought it
people, clad in complimentary mourning no robbery to use a little of the stratagem
for the gallant Charles Malcolm, and that employed against Christ's Kingdom, to
even poor daft Jenny Gaffaw, and her daugh- promote the interests thereof in the hearts
ter, had on an old black ribbon ; and when and understandings of those whose ears
I thought of him, the spirited laddie, co would have been sealed against me, had I
ming home from Jamaica, with his parrot attempted to expound higher things. Ac-
on his shoulder, and his limes for me, my cordingly, on one day it was my practice
heart filled full, and I was obliged to sit to shew what the nature of Christian cha-
down in the pulpit, and drop a tear. rity was, comparing it to the light and
“ After a pause, and the Lord having warmth of the sun that shines impartially
vouchsafed to compose me, I rose up, and on the just and the unjust-shewing that
gase out that anthem of triumph, the 124th man, without the sense of it as a duty, was
Psalm ; the singing of which brought the as the beasts that perish, and that every
congregation round to themselves ; but still feeling of his nature was intimately selfish,
I felt that I could not preach as I had meant but that, when actuated by this divine ime
to do, therefore, I only said a few words of pulse, he rose out of himself and became
prayer, and singing another psalm, dismiss. as a god, zealous to abate the sufferings of
ed the congregation."
all things that live. And, on the next day,
The good pastor laments the party I demonstrated that the new benevolence
spirit which the political madness of which had come so much into vogue, was
the years immediately following the but another version of this Christian virtue.
French Revolution produced in the In like manner I dealt with brotherly
parish.
love, bringing it home to the business and
“ This year had opened into all the leafi- of it was neither
enlarged nor bettered by
bosoms of my hearers, that the Christianity
Dess of midsummer before any thir
morable happened in the parish, farther being baptized with the Greek name of
than that the sad division of my people I went more roundly to work. I told my
philanthropy. With well-doing, however,
into government-men and jacobins was per: people that I thought they had more sense
fected. This calamity, for I never could than to secede from Christianity to become
consider such heart-burning among neigh- Utilitarians, for that it would be a confes-
bours as any thing less than a very heavy sion of ignorance of the faith they desert-
calamity, was assuredly occasioned by faults ed, seeing that it was the main duty
incul.
on both sides, but it must
be confessed that cated by our religion to do all in morals
the gentry did nothing to win the common- and manners, to which the new-fangled
ality from the errors of their way. A little
more condescension on their part would
doctrine of utility pretended.".
not have made things worse, and might
Mr Balwhidder's toleration of dif-
have made them better ; but pride interference in religious opinions is in the
posed, and caused them to think that any
same spirit, and attended with the
show of affability from them would be con-
same beneficial effects, as his patience
strued by the democrats into a terror of with political dissenters. After men-
their power. While the democrats were tioning among other refinements of
no less to blame ; for hearing how their mo:lern luxury, the receipt of a turtle
compeers were thriving in France and de- from Glasgow, by the proprietors of
molishing every obstacle to their ascend- the cotton mill, a description, natu-
ency, they were crouse, and really insolent, ral enough, of his surprise at the ap-
evidencing none of that temperance in pros-
perity that proves the possessors worthy pearance of this new kind of fish, as
of their good fortune.
he calls it, and the disagreement of
“ As for me, my duty in these circum. the dishes made of it on his stomach,
stances was one plain and simple. The he digresses to a novelty of a different
Christian religion was attempted to be kind,
a mental disorder which was in-
brought into disrepute; the rising genera. troduced into the parish by some of
tion were taught to jibe at its holiest ordi- the Roman Catholic workmen of the
nances ; and the kirk was more frequented cotton mill.
as a place to while away the time on a “ But the story of the turtle is nothing
rainy Sunday, than for any insight of the to that of the Mass, which, with all its mum-
VOL. IX.
2C


208
Annals of the Parish.
[May,
meries and abominations, was brought in- reviled and rejected, but my honest endea-
to Cayenneville by an Irish priest of the vours to prove a faithful shepherd, were
name of Father O'Grady, who was confes. blessed from on high, and rewarded with
sor to some of the poor deluded Irish la- the affection of my flock. Perhaps, in the
bourers about the new houses and the cot- vanity of doting old age, I thought in this
ton-mill. How he had the impudence to there was a merit due to myself, which
set up that memento of Satan, the crucifix, made the Lord to send the chastisement of
within my parish and jurisdiction, was what the Canaille schism among my people, for
I never could get to the bottom of'; but the I was then wroth without judgment, and by
soul was shaken within me, when, on the my heat hastened into an open division the
Monday after, one of the elders came to the flaw that a more considerate manner might
Nanse, and told me, that the old dragon of have healed. But I confess my fault, and
Popery, with its seven heads and ten horns, submit my cheek to the smiter ; and I now
had been triumphing in Cayenneville on see that the finger of Wisdom was in that
the foregoing Lord's day! I lost no time probation, and it was far better that the
in convening the Session to see what was to weavers meddled with the things of God,
be done. Much, however, to my surprise, which they could not change, than with
the elders recommended no step to be ta those of the king, which they could only
ken, but only a zealous endeavour to great- harm. In that matter, however, I was like
er Christian excellence on our part, by which our gracious monarch in the American
we should put the beast and his worship war; for though I thereby lost the pasto-
pers to shame and flight. I am free to con ral allegiance of a portion of my people, in
fess, that, at the time, I did not think this like manner as he did of his American sub-
the wisest counsel which they might have jects ; yet, ter the separation, I was ena.
given ; for, in the heat of my alarm, I was bled so to deport myself, that they shewed
for attacking the enemy in his camp. But me many voluntary testimonies of affection.
they prudently observed, that the days of ate respect, and which it would be a vain
religious persecution were past, and it was glory in me to rehearse here. One thing I
a comfort to see mankind cherishing any must record, because it is as much to their
sense of religion at all, after the vehement honour as it is to mine.
infidelity that had been sent abroad by the ** When it was known that I was to
French Republicans; and to this opinion, preach my last sermon, every one of those
now, that I have had years to sift its wis- who had been my hearers, and who had se-
dom, I own myself a convert and prose- ceded to the Canaille meeting, made it a
lyte."
point that day to be in the parish kirk, and
After a ministry of fifty years, this
to stand in the crowd, that made a lane of
venerable pastor retires from the ex-
reverence for me to pass from the kirk door
ercise of his sacred functions in the ly after a deputation of all their brethren,
to the back-yett of the Manse. And short-
year 1810. In the concluding chapter with their minister at their head, came to
he gives an account of this event with
the same temperate and charitable spi- server of silver, in token, as they were plea-
me one morning, and presented to me a
rit which distinguishes the whole nar- sed to say, of their esteem for my blameless
rative of his blameless and virtuous life, and the charity that I had practised
life.
towards the poor of all sects in the neigh.
“ My tasks are all near a close ; and in bourhood; which is set forth in a well.
writing this final record of my ministry, penned inscription, written by a weaver
the very sound of my pen admonishes me lad that works for his daily bread. Such
that my life is a burden on the back of fly a thing would have been a prodigy at the
ing time, that he will soon be obliged to beginning of my ministry, but the progress
lay down in his great store-house, the grave. of book learning and education has been
Old age has, indeed, long warned me to wonderful since, and with it has come a
prepare for rest, and the darkened windows spirit of greater liberality than the world
of my sight shew that the night is coming krew before, bringing men of adverse prin-
on, while deafness, like a door fast barred, ciples and doctrines, into a more humane
has shut out all the pleasant sounds of this communion with each other, shewing, that
world, and inclosed me, as it were, in a pris it's by the mollifying influence of know,
son, even from the voices of my friends. ledge, the time will come to pass, when the
“I have lived longer than the common lot tiger of papistry shall lie down with the
of man, and I have seen, in my time, many lamb of reformation, and the vultures of
mutations and turnings, and ups and downs, prelacy be as harmless as the presbyterian
potwithstanding the great spread that has doves; when the independent, the arabap-
been in our national prosperity. I have be- tist, and every other order and denomina.
held them that were flourishing like the tion of Christians, not forgetting even these
green bay trees, made desolate, and their poor little wrens of the Lord, the burghers
branches scattered. But, in my own estate, and anti-burghers, will pick from the hand
I have had a large and liberal experience of patronage, and dread no snare.
of goodness.
* On the next Sunday, after my fare.
At the beginning of my ministry I was well discourse, I took the arm of Mrs Bal.


1821.]
209
Annals of the Purish.
whidder, and with my cane in my hand, exposed to the censure of his parish-
walked to our own pew, where I sat some ioners, to whose temporal and eter-
time, but owing to my deafness, not being nal welfare he was always awake..
able to hear, I have not since gone back to Among other practices which he re-
the church. But my people are fond
of probates with becoming severity, are
having their weans still christened by me, smuggling, the immoderate use of spi,
cus turn, come to be married at my hands, rituous liquors, the neglect of sacred
believing, as they say, that there is some
duties, the establishment of idle or
thing good in the blessing of an aged gos. unprofitable places of resort, the rash
pel minister. But even this remnant of and ignorant discussion of politics, the
my gown I must lay aside, for Mrs Bal. irreverent contempt of legal and whole-
whidder is now and then obliged to stop some authority. His opinions are al-
me in my prayers, as I sometimes wander ways honest, always disinterested, and
--pronouncing the baptismal blessing up- generally just
. He censures gently,
on a bride and bridegroom, talking as if but fairly, the inattention of country-
they were already parents
. I am thankful, gentlemen to measures of general or
however, that I have been spared with a local improvement, when public not
pound mind to write this book to the end ;
but it is my last task, and, indeed, really private advantage is expected to be
I have no more to say, saving only to wish the result; and gives its due import-
a blessing on all people from on High, ance to a friendly and cordial commu-
where I soon hope to be, and to meet there nication between different ranks of the
all the old and long-departed sheep of my community, which may preserve to
flock, especially the first and second Mrs rank or wealth its beneficial influence,
Balwhidders."
and to the lower orders the respect
On the whole, we give our sincere and attention which are due to supe-
and cordial approbation to these Annals, rior station, when its power and in-
not only as amusing, highly amusing fluence are exerted to the general ad-
to such' readers as are fond of nature vantage.
and simplicity, but as instructive. As On all these accounts, we sincerely
a Remembrancer, this little volume and warmly recommend the perusal
may be very useful. We are very apt of these Annals to the members of
to forget the origin of practices which communities in situations similar to
universal custom has now made us that of the Parish of which this ex-
consider as of established adoption, cellent clergyman had the charge; by
though some of them have no merit such perusal, they may be cautioned
but what prescription confers, and what novelties to adopt as useful, or
others are subject to censure which ha- discourage as pernicious; and thus reap
bit only induces us to withhold. The the advantage which the Roman Classic
worthy clergyman never failed to no- imputes to the recollection of past
tice the introduction into his parish events, by making the present time
of such novelties, which his pulpit the disciple of the former ;
sometimes, when necessary or proper, “Discipulus prioris est posterior dies.”
recommended to the approbation, or
[Since this article was put to press, we have been not a little struck by a
Critique on “ The Annals," in the Inverness Courier. Our good friends at
Inverness have been most fortunate in obtaining such an Editor ; for we do
not know any Provincial Journal that is conducted with more ability than the
Inverness Courier. In proof of this, and from our regard to honest Micah, we
cannot help giving the following extract, which we hope will gratify our read-
ers.-C. N.]
"If there be one heartless and brain- though not of that degree. These three
less mortal in the circleof English read- members of the sacred profession, hold
ers, who does not remember Parson the same rank among the clergy that
Abraham Adams, and Dr Primrose, Vi- Sir Roger de Coverley, Baron Bradwar-
car of Wakefield, as the beloved of his dine, and Sir Hugh Tyrold do among
youth, let him not take up the Parish laymen. They take possession of the
Annals-hecan never become acquaint- heart of the reader through every ave-
ed with the Rev. Micah Balwhidder, nue, by the mere force of their guile-
' Doctor, as he was sometimes called, less and kindly natures. Wisdom would


910
Annals of the Parish.
[May,
not exchide them, and affection throws Scotland. The character of Micah
every inlet wide open to admit them with the three Mrs Balwhidders, is,
into the sanctuary. Micah has not, to however, but a subordinate part of the
to be sure, the learning or mental vi- design of this volume, which is to pre-
gour of Parson Adams, nor the tender. sent a lively record of that change in
ness and delicacy of “ the husband of manners and national character, which
one wife,” the Vicar-still he is wore has within the last sixty years wrought
thy, in virtue of their common good, such miracles around us. This task is
heartedness and pastoral affections, to executed with the minute fidelity and
take his place by their side ; and he is lively colouring of Crabbe. We may
the first presbyter who has been thus be better understood by saying, that
honoured. We have long borne a slight Micah Balwhidder is among our mo-
grudge to “ the Great Unknown,” for dern historians what Wilkie is among
those prelatic limnings, as Micah might the Scottish painters; and we think
say, which he has given of the Scottish that the Statistical Account of Scot-
clergy. Mr Blattergowl devouring in land will never be complete, till the
secret the fragments
of the Antiquary's faithful annals of this homely and ve-
feast, and courting Miss Grizzel" for racious Chronicler, are added to the
cake and pudding”-heavy and cau- appendix. The personal character of
tious Mr Poundext's "ale-inspired stu- Micah, with his patriarchal groupe of
dies ;" or Mr Mucklewraith, “a wee wives, stands out in fine relief from
thing crackit, but a braw preacher for the body of the composition, and the
a'that,"are ecclesiasticalsketches which pastoral virtues which cluster around
might have called down the scourge of him, are enhanced and adorned by the
Jeremy Collier, were that fiery mem- little harmless peculiarities of a former
ber of the church militant still in the “student of the orthodox University
body.
of Glasgow,” now become the grave
“ The author of Waverley has indeed pastor of a quiet country parish. Mi.
presented us with Mr Morton, but he cah has no claims to great talent, or
is one of those self-sufficing charac, what he calls a kirk-filling elo-
ters of perfect wisdom, and unmingled quence," but with a heart overflowing
goodness, which are within the com- with kindness and thankfulness, he
pass of any ordinary writer, and who, holds on the even tenor of his way
as they have no need of the reader's enjoying the innocent self-importance
indulgence, obtain but a slight hold on of his station, relishing a quiet joke,
his memory. It was therefore reser- cherishing goodness, repressing vice,
ved for the present writer to bring us and doing all the good in his power in
acquainted with a character, of which his own little circle.”
the prototype is to be found in the me,
INVERNESS COURIER,
mory or imagination of every native of May 10, 1821.
NARRATIVE OF THE CHINESE EMBASSY TO THE KHAN OF THE
TOURGOUTH TARTARS. *
In preceding ages there appears to chiefly derived from the missionaries,
have existed as great a desire to elevate who, in common with the rest of their
the station which the Chinese ought to zealous, intelligent, and intrepid bre-
hold, in the scale of civilized nations, thren, appear to have committed the
as there has been in later times tó usual failing (to use no harsher term)
lower their pretensions below the fair of magnifying the power, consequence,
level to which they appear entitled; and intellect of the nations they were
and both mistakes seem to have origi- desirous of converting, and thereby of
nated from the same source whence securing to themselves a proportion of
every prejudice and error arises —a applause and fame, commensurate with
great degree of ignorance of the facts the apparent importance of the people
upon which alone any rational opinion converted, and the difficulties with
can be grounded. In earlier times the which they had had to contend. It is
information respecting the institutions, to this disposition, to exaggerate in the
customs, manners, and policy of this early histories, that must be mainly
ancient and extraordinary people, were attributed the very high notions for-
• Translated from the Chinese, by Sir G. T. Staunton, Bart. L.L.D. and F.R.S.
Octavo. Murray, London, 1821.


1921.]
Narrative of the Chinese Embassy.
211
merly entertained of the Chinese cha- it may strike us at first sight. Man-
racter and policy, which, perhaps, has kind is ever prone to extremes; and
induced many modern travellers, from no sooner do we behold a rent in the
the falsehood of such representations, veil, that shrouds the object of our
to fall into an opposite extreme, and to blind admiration from accurate obser,
deal out the measure of their censure vation, than we fly into an opposite
with the same want of discrimination, direction, and as inconsiderately de-
which distinguishes the panegyrics of grade our fallen idol to the lowest
preceding writers; though we perfect- depths of indifference and contempt.
ly agree with Sir George Staunton, in A new era, however, with respect to
admitting, “ That the observations of the Chinese, seems, during the last age,
the latter, as far as their opportunities to be dawning on our view ; when,
extended, are, upon the whole, best from an increasing connection with
entitled to confidence.” It must, how. this singular people, a more intimate
ever, be allowed, that some of the mo- acquaintance with its peculiarities and
dern writers have laboured under great customs, and, above all, from the la-
disadvantages, not only “ from the bours and researches of such accom-
comparatively narrowed limits to which plished writers as the mild, candid,
their inquiries were restricted,” but and enlightened translator of the work
also from some of them having drawn before us, we may be enabled to ob-
their conclusions from the meagre in- tain new lights upon the subject, and
formation obtained through a slight to form juster notions than have hither-
acquaintance with some maritime places to been entertained of a nation which
of the empire, where the simplicity appears to have been alike misrepre-
and character of the natives had pro- sented by the indiscretion, prejudice,
bably been greatly corrupted by their and ignorance of friends and foes.
intercourse with European traders, As far as we can judge of the Chi.
from whose example and manners they nese, from the unsatisfactory informa-
were not likely to be greatly confirmed tion formerly afforded, it seems im-
in habits of common honesty or virtue. possible to deny that they must have
The account given of the Chinese at been civilized to a considerable degree,
Canton and its vicinity, in the narra- when every state in Europe was sunk
tive of Lord Anson's voyage, represents in complete barbarism. Most of the
them as the most dastardly, insincere, arts and sciences appear to have been
and dishonest of the human race; and known among them in very early times;
possibly, as far as the writer's experi, and their literature, at these periods,
ence extended, he was fully justified was probably upon a level with that
in his statements; but as Mr Barrow of any other nation in the world. Their
justly remarks, in his excellent Travels government too, laws and domestic
in China, “ to decide upon the general policy, though possibly not entitling
character of the Chinese, from the deals the Chinese to hold the first rank in
ings Lord Anson had with them in the the scale of civilized society, neverthe-
port of Canton, would be as unfair as less partake largely of wisdom and mo-
it would be thought presumptuous in rality; and it will probably ever re-
a foreigner to draw the character of main the wonder of mankind, that a
our nation from a casual visit to Fale system of government, so extended
inouth, Killybegs, or Aberdeen.” The and so perfect in its kind, could have
saine remark, he says, applies to other been so firmly established, in the com-
writers on the subject, who never were parative infancy of the world, as to
“five hundred yards beyond the limits have resisted through succeeding ages
of the European factories at Canton,” the storms and revolutions that have
This discrepancy between the old and destroyed contemporary nations, and
the late accounts of the Chinese, if it long since swept them from the face of
did not directly extinguish all curiosi. the earth. Of the policy of the Chi-
ty with respect to the people and their nese, with respect to other states, it is
institutions, had at least a great ten- difficult for an European to speak with
deney to promote that indifference on impartiality. Our views and practice
the subject which we almost remem are so diametrically opposed to the exa
ber had become somewhat general clusive nature of their system, that we
about half a century ago—nor is a must unavoidably regard them in this
charge of this nature so surprising as respect with a feeling somewhat bor-


212
Narrative of the Chinese Embassy.
[May,
dering on contempt ; but it ought to be these tribes, took the resolution of Ay-
remembered that it has been by a strict ing from his oppression, and of shel-
adherence to this policy, that they more tering himself and his followers un-
than probably owe the preservation of der the protection of the Czar of Rus-
their government, laws, and indepen- sia. They were kindly received by
dence, and even their existence as a na- that monarch, and a tract of cuuntry
tion. Had it not been for the exclusive was assigned for their residence be-
system to which they have souniformly tween the river Jaik, and the Wolga,
adhered, China would, in all likelihood, in the neighbourhood of the Caspian
have been long before this period in Sea. Tse-vang-rabdan, the chief of
the situation of India, and have seen the Eleuths, being with all his pro-
her ancient institutions, and govern- vinces tributary to China, so very con-
ment, sunk in the splendour of foreign siderable a defection as the tribe of
usurpation. With such an example the Tourgouths, appears to have given
before her eyes and immediately on some uneasiness to Kang-Hee, one of
the threshold of the empire, it is not the wisest and most powerful of the
very sanguinely to be expected, that Chinese Emperors ; who accordingly,
either from motives of inclination or some years subsequent to the settle-
prudence, she will relax in a system ment of the Tourgouths under their
that has for ages proved the grand new masters, thought it adviseable to
means by which her integrity has been send an embassy to A-yu-ke, under
preserved. She has long existed, and the pretence of arranging the safe re-
comparatively happily existed, with turn to his country of a Tourgouth
scarcely any intercourse with foreign prince, who had accidentally been ob-
nations, and she has perhaps no other liged to throw himself under the pro-
chance, in the present state of the tection of the emperor. The real mo-
world, of retaining her national conse- tive, however, for sending the mission,
quence, than by persisting in that line appears to have had two other very
of policy, which has hitherto enabled distinct objects in view. First, to
her to resist every approach of exter. sound A-yu-ke on the subject of the
nal encroachment and innovation-by Tourgouths returning to their old al-
pursuing such a course, she may, in- legiance, and secondly, to open if pos-
deed, have been deprived of many of ssible, hy indirect means, some com-
the advantages and blessings, which munication with the Czar of Rus-
have fallen to the lot of other states, sia. The chief conduct of the embas-
acting on more liberal and enlarged sy was intrusted to a Mandarin of
views; but it must not be forgotten, the name of Tu-li-shin, the author of
that her children have also been spać the narrative, who appears to have
red the wars, the persecutions, the de- been a person well qualified for the
solation, and the bloodshed, which, in situation. He commences his narra-
spite of the cries of suffering humani- tive, by giving a modest and not un-
ty, and the precepts of the mildest and interesting account of his family, his
most moral of religions, have for ages own rise in the state, his disgrace, and
proved the disgrace and the scourge dismissal from public service, and his
of almost every highly civilized por- subsequent retirement to Linn-loo.
tion of the world.
Here he remained for seven years, em-
But it is now time to consider the ployed in the cultivation of his farın,
work before us, which, as it may be and the service of his parents-till
regarded as a kind of unique produc- " at length,” he observes," when it
tion, is not only interesting on that was determined, in the year Pro-tien,
account, but also from the remarkable a year of universal tranquillity and
circumstances in which the embassy pacification, to send a special mission
itself originated, and the singular abi- to the kingdom of the Tourgouths, a
lity and secrecy with which the real region remote, and beyond the seas (or
object of the mission was carried into great waters) I humbly addressed a
effect. Some years previously to 1712, petition to his Majesty, requesting to
it seems that A-yu-ke, the Khan of be employed on the occasion, that I
the Tourgouths, one of the four divi- might thus have an opportunity of
sions of the Eleuth, or Calmuc Tare evincing the grateful sense I enter-
tars, conceiving some disgust at Tse- tained of the many favours I had at
vang-rabdan, the principal chief of former periods enjoyed under the im-


1821)
Narrative of the Chinese Embassy.
213
66
perial government.* Being admitted upon the service, to which you are at
in consequence to the imperial pre- present appointed, there must be per-
sence, I had again the happiness of fect harmony and concord amongst
witnessing the benign influence, and you ; you must refrain from drinking
excellent effects of the sacred virtues wine immoderately, and you must
of his Majesty. By his Majesty's gra- strictly prohibit all excesses of this
cious favour, I was restored to my for- kind among your servants and atten-
mer rank and offices, and further ho- dants. In the course of your journey,
noured, with his Majesty's special you will have to enter certain districts
commands to proceed upon the service of the kingdom of Russia, where the
I had solicited.”-On the 27th of May, manners and customs are extremely
1712, he received the imperial edict, corrupt, and where there are many
addressed to him and his colleagues, immodest women. Your servants and
and on the 23d of June following, set attendants must not be suffered on
out from Pekin on the expedition in these occasions to be disorderly and
the 51st year of Kang-Hee. The edict licentious; and at all times you must
itself is, for the purposes it had in maintain strong discipline and control
view, one of the best and most artful over them. If while you are within
pieces of diplomacy, we have ever seen; the Russian territories, you should
particularly in that part of it which yourselves chance to see any of the
relates to the before mentioned Khan women of the country, or to witness
of the Eleuth tribes, whom it is pret- any occurrence that may seem absurd
ty evident, from the document itself, in your eyes, you are, nevertheless,
as well as from the account given by to preserve always your gravity and
Mr Bell, his imperial majesty must composure, and by no means to be
have considered rather a troublesome lightly given to scoffing or ridicule.
neighbour. The instructions relating If presents are offered to you, you
to any interview the ambassadors may are not at once to accept of them, but
have with the Czar, are equally judi- to excuse yourselves again and again,
cious, and the following directions as saying, Wehave brought nothingrich
to conduct and general behaviour, or valuable with us to offer to the Cha-
strike us as peculiarly characteristic of han-khan; how then can we think of
the Chinese, though of a nature some- accepting such presents from him?' In
what superior to any thing that could the event, however, of their being very
have been expected from a govern- earnest and pressing, you may accept
ment, which we should previously of one or two things; and you are, in
have supposed, must have been very such case, to produce the pieces of em-
defective in its knowledge of the cus- broidered silks which you are to carry
toms and manners of foreign nations. with you, and to present them to the
“As the Russians,"continues the edict, Cha-han-khan in return, saying, 'Be-
“are of a vain and ostentatious dis cause of the great length of the jour-
position, they will doubtless display ney, we have brought nothing with us
before you, for your information, the that is very excellent or valuable ;
several things they possess. On such these things we only offer as a trifling
occasions, you are neither to express mark of our consideration on the oc-
admiration, nor contempt; and are casion of the present meeting.' Should
merely to say, Whether our country you not be invited to an interview, and
possesses, or not, such things as these, only a messenger be sent to you, you
it is quite out of our province to de- will still take occasion to present the
termine. Some things indeed there pieces of silk which you will have
are which we have seen, and others brought with you; and you will say,
have not seen ; but there are other 'Having come a very long journey,
things again which others have seen, we have nothing in our possession of
though we have not. On these subjects value; but we offer you these trifles,
therefore, we are by no means suffi as a mark of our consideration.'
ciently informed. In your proceedings “ The laws and regulations of the
It might seem extraordinary that a degraded officer should presume to solicit an
appointment of this important and confidential character ; but a distant foreign mission
is a service so little desirable in the eyes of a Chinese, that it became highly meritorious
in any officer of suitable abilities, to volunteer his services on the occasion, and it ap-
pears accordingly, that Tu-li-shim's offer was not only immediately accepted, but that
he was himself entirely restored to favour in cousequence. Vide Note by Translator.


214
Narrative of the Chinese Embassy.
[May,
Russians are very severe and rigorous. ation of the vartous districts of the
In the event, therefore, of any of your Russian empire visited by the embas-
servants or attendants committing a sy. The original Chinese map of the
trifling fault, you must not at once de- countries travelled through, Sir George
nounce them in anger to the magis informs us, " is remarkable only for its
trate of the district. In all your pro- rudeness and inaccuracy.” This was
ceedings, you must shew your clemen- perhaps to be expected, when the very
cy and moderation, as well as your gra- imperfect state of geographical know-
vity and composure.
ledge in Europe is considered, little
“ If you are questioned respecting more than half a century previous to
your own rank and offices, you are to the period of the embassy; and we
say, We are only officiating magi- cannot help thinking it greatly to the
strates, belonging to the outer tribu- credit of Tu-li-shin's accuracy, that
nals of government, and by no means the route he describes has been traced
either great officers of state, or imme- with very little difficulty, on compa-
diate attendants on the person of his ring it with the best maps of the pre-
Majesty'
sent day, and the “latest discoveries
• The inhabitants of the Russian and authorities."-But to return from
territory, its natural and artificial pro- this digression. We left our travel-
ductions, its geography and generallers on their departure from Pekin.-
appearance, are also objects to which On the sixth day of the journey, they
due attention is to be given by you in crossed the great wall at the pass of
the course of your journey.-Respect Chang-kia-ken; and pursuing their
the above."
route over the range of mountains,
These clear and very able instruc- called King-gan-ting, entered the dis-
tions appear to have been understood, trict of Tartars of the plain yellow di-
and well acted upon, by the ambassa- vision, and were entertained by the
dors, at least so far as regarded the Mangou Tartar garrison of Cha-ha-
more important points of the mission, eur, which supplied them with every
as it not only succeeded in its profess- thing requisite for their journey, and
ed object, but also in establishing a de- enabled them to send back to Pekin
gree of understanding with the Tour- the guards and government horses
gouths, which appears eventually to which had hitherto accompanied them.
have paved the way for the return of Continuing their route, they reached,
that tribe to its ancient country and in ten days, the district of the Kalkas,
allegiance in the year 1771. With re- where they experienced similar civili-
spect to the minor objects of the em- ties, and shortly after arrived at the
bassy, we do not quite agree in opinion great desert of sand; our author's ac-
with Sir George Staunton, as to the count of which differs, in a very re-
“meagre and unsatisfactory” nature markable manner, from the one given
of the descriptions of “ the scenery and by Mr Bell, who traversed the same
remarkable objects” on the route. We waste only a few years subsequently.
certainly have perused them with con- — The embassy, according to the for-
siderable pleasure, and have received mer, spent no more than two days
as much instruction on these topics as in crossing the desert, which is descri-
we could have expected from the jour- bed as generally abounding with the
nal of travellers passing through a shrub Chake; and in one spot, as be-
country so unvaried and so devoid of ing remarkably fertile, and well wa-
objects to attract attention. With re- tered by several rivulets :—while the
spect to the inhabitants, their manners latter states, that he and his party were
and customs, the account is certainly twenty-eight days in traversing it,
flimsy enough, though great care ap- without halting; during which pe-
pears to have been taken throughout riod, they had neither seen “river,
the narrative, to state with accuracy tree, bush, nor mountain.” This dif-
the situation of the different towns ference in the two accounts is the more
and stations, their respective distan, remarkable, as Sir George Staunton
ces, the amount of the inhabitants, informs us in his preface, the general
the various strength of the garrisons, agreement found " between two wri-
the number, size, and direction, of the ters, in whose views, feelings, habits,
principal rivers, and of almost every and prejudices, there could be so little
thing that could tend to throw light in common, is certainly creditable to
on the geographical and military situ, both.” On the 30th of August, the
5


1891.]
Narrative of the Chinese Embassy.
215
will accept
embassy reached the Tu-la, or Tola trouble and inconvenience of making
of Bell, (of which, and the rivers in us these presents? We beg, therefore,
its neighbourhood, a somewhat elabo- with many thanks, to return them tó
rate account is given,) and proceeding you.' Ha-mi-sa-eur, however, again
on its route, in about eleven days ar sent his messengers to us to press our
rived at See-pu-ke-htu, the pass fix- acceptance of the presents; and through
ed for the boundary of the Russian these messengers they further obser-
and Chinese empires; and shortly af- ved, We are in the habit of regu-
terwards came to the first Russian sta- larly visiting the Chinese empire to
tion, where a messenger was waiting trade, and we have repeatedly experi-
its arrival, sent by the governor of enced, for these many years past, the
Selinginsky, to learn the object of the great kindness of your most excellent
mission. Satisfactory replies having emperor: but this is the first time
been obtained, a guard of officers and that any heavenly messengers have
boats was sent to convey the “Hea- visited our country. Since we are now
venly messengers” to the above place, so fortunate as to meet with you at
where they were received by the go- this place, there is hardly any thing
vernor with every mark of respect and we can do which is sufficient to ex-
distinction. Owing, however, to his press to you our respect and regard.
being obliged to wait till a reply could Again and again, therefore, we most
be obtained to the dispatch he had for- earnestly request
that you
warded to the Czar, acquainting him what we have offered.
To this we
with the arrival of the Chinese, and replied, “Since Ha-mi-sa-eur has thus
the purport of their journey, the em- spoken, we will accept of the eatables
bassy could not be allowed to proceed be has sent us, and only send back to
on its destination; though, from Tu- him the fox-skins: but you must at
li-Shin's own account, no unnecessa the same time inform Ha-mi-sa-eur,
ry delay appears imputable to the that our Chinese Imperial govern-
Russians, who, he admits, uniformly ment has never allowed the officers,
treated him and his party with the or any
who
may
most respectful attention during a five time be employed in executing the
months detention at Salinginsky,-a emperor's commands, to accept of pre-
réception the more remarkable, when sents, even of the smallest value. At
we consider “the somewhat suspici- a future day, however, we shall have
ous and equivocal nature of their mis- manyopportunities of meeting Ha-mi-
sion." During their stay at this place, sa-eur, and it will then be quite time
the ambassadors were visited by Hac enough for us to testify the reciprocal
mi-sa-en, (the person originally en sentiments which we entertain for each'
trusted to arrange with the Russian other ; but just now it is absolutely
government the safe conduct of the impossible for us to accept of any pre-
mission,) and another Russian mer sents of value, and we must therefore
chant, both on their way to Pekin, return the fox-skins; the dishes of
who presented them with thirty fox- fruit we have agreed to retain, in or.
skins, besides fruit and similar arti- der to shew our sense of his civilities.'
eles." The ceremonies that took place At length, on the 8th of February,
upon this occasion, are far from un 1713, dispatches were received from
amusing; and, as they contain a pret- the Czar, authorizing the advance of
ty accurate representation of what uni- the ambassadors, who were immedi-
formly occurs throughout the narra- ately furnished with 70 wheel car-
tive in similar circumstances, we shall riages, and every necessary for the fu.
extract the whole passage, for the edi- ture accommodation of their journey.
fication of our readers.
A military escort was also appointed to
“ Upon this we said, through the attend them, and the whole party set
favour and kindness of his Imperial out on the 10th of February from
majesty, every thing we can use or Salinginsky, amidst the highest ho-
require upon our present journey is nours that could be conferred on them.
already provided for us,-nothing is A description follows, of the district
deficient: why then should you, who and town of Salinginsky, which would
are travellers like ourselves, be at the be scarcely worth noticing, did it not
other persons,
at any
* Apparently the Tunninkaita of Case, and the Saralgyn of Bell.Translator.
VOL. IX.
2 D


1821.]
Narrative of the Chinese Embassy.
217
bassadors pursued their route on horse- Bell) the governor general of Siberia,'
back to the small village of Mak-of- who seems, throughout the whole of
sky. On the 28th of June, embarked its residence in this city, to have
on the river Ket, and in twelve days studiously avoided every thing that
reached the station of Narim, near the could give umbrage to the Chinese;
place where Ket falls into the river by humouring them in all their pecu-
Oby, a distance of 2500 lec. Conti- liarities, and extravagant pretensions.
muing the voyage down the latter river, The communications that took place,
they reacbed the station of Surgute, between the two parties, on the several
and the next day encountered a vio- occasions of their meeting, are highly
lent gale, which greatly endangered amusing, and give a clearer insight
the whole party. On this occasion, into the cautious character and policy
the author takes the opportunity of of the Chinese, than any other account
remarking that the Russians, when we have yet met with ; though we
compared with the Chinese boatmen, cannot help being a little sceptical, as
are very inferior both in courage, and to the veracity of the author, when he
expertness in the management of their describes Prince Gagarin as venturing
vessels. “ The moment there is any to condemn his master, Peter the Great,
danger, he says, they are happy to get and to draw a somewhat invidious
close to the bank of the river, and if comparison between the government,
they can retreat out of the stream al- of that able and extraordinary mo-
together into some small creek, then narch, and that of the preceding Czar.
only they begin to be at ease.” From A short account follows of the city of
Surgute, they arrived at Samarofsky, Tobolsky, and its vicinity. It was
and proceeded on the river Irtish; without walls, or fortifications, but ap-
here their course “ being against the pears to have been a place of consider-
stream, they were obliged to be track. able importance, containing altogether
ed by the Tartar boatmen, the whole upwards of three thousand families,
way" to Demiansky, a distance of 600 above twenty Christian churches, and
lec, whence in two days they departed a garrison of 2000 men. On the fifth
for Tobolsky, the capital of Siberia, of September, the ambassadors left
where they arrived on the 24th of Au- Tobolsky, escorted by a Russian offi-
gust. The preceding towns, with the cer, and a guard of sixty soldiers for
exception of Irkutsy and Yeneseik, their protection, and quitting the river
appear to have been very inconsider- Irtish, they ascended the Tobol, and
able places; none of them are mention- proceeded, during the space of nine
ed by our author as fortified when he days, against the stream to Tumen,
visited them in the year 1712-13, an being again “ tracked the whole of the
omission which is a little remark- way by the Tartars; but,” continues
able, as Mr Bell, who passed through the author, “ the banks of the river
the same places only a few years af- were so overgrown with wood, that
terwards, particularly observes that there was no tracking path for them,
several of them were somewhat strong, and they were consequently obliged to
ly defended with ditches, pallisades, wade through the water and mud.
and towers, a circumstance which could They were cut and wounded often by
scarcely have escaped the notice of our the stones, and the blood was running
author, if such fortifications had ex- from their legs and feet under the wa-
isted at the period of the embassy; and, ter ; but the Russian soldiers only
perhaps, the only way of reconciling forged and urged them on so much
the two accounts, is upon the suppo- the more, I could not bear the sight,
sition that the Russian Government and remonstrated with them, upon
might have felt some little disquietude which they desisted.” From Tumen,
with respect to the safety of these dis, they proceeded to Epantshin, higher
tant possessions, from the doubtful up the river; here they quitted their
nature of the Chinese Mission, and boats and continued their route on
have been thence led to put them in a horseback to Verchaturia, the first
more respectable state of defence du- station in Russia, in Europe, on which
ring the period that intervened be- account they were received by the go-
tween our author's and Mr Bell's visit. vernor with“ more than ordinary at-
At Tobolsky, the embassy was re- tentions." This town is described as
ceived with every mark of distinction, beautifully and romantically situated,
by Ko-ko-lin, (Prince Gagarin of and the whole place as wearing a live-


216
Narrative of the Chinese Embassy.
[May,
ly and pleasing appearance, that some tween Charles the XIIth., and Peter
what reconciled our travellers to the Great, from its commencement to
their past fatigues and hardships. Af- the defeat of the former at Pultowa,
ter remaining two days at this place, and his subsequent escape into Tur-
they proceeded through " deep and key, which happened about eight years
miry roads,” and crossing the Qural prior to the arrival of the embassy.
Mountains, reached Solikamsky on It is singular, that in Tu-li-shin's list
the 14th of October. In journey of the different European nations ly-
ing hither they met with a heavy falling west of the Russian Empire, no
of snow, which lasted for several mention should be made of Great Bri-
days, and gave the whole country a tain ; at that time, from the recent
most magnificentand beautiful appear- successes and splendid achievements of
ance ;—from Solikamsky their direct King William and the Duke of Marl-
route was by water, down the river borough, one of the first nations in
Kama, but the snow still continu- Europe, both in power and reputation,
ing, and the roads being impassable, and undoubtedly well known to the
the Russians would not allow them Russians, from whom our author must,
to advance till the 14th of Novem- of course, have derived his informa-
ber, when the ground having become tion. In the above list, however, there
completely frozen, they were suffer- appears the name of a country Sepense-
ed to proceed in four sledges ; and suc- key ; upon the signification of which,
cessively passing through the towns Sir George Staunton says he can offer
Kaygorod, Stobodskoi, Klinof, Cazan, no conjecture, except; as it seems to us
and Simbirsk, they reached Saratof, on the very unlikely one, that Spain“has,
the Volga,
“ the established place of by mistake, been included twice in the
intercourse between the Russian and catalogue,” that country having been
Tourgouth nations," on the 1st of Ja- named before under the title of Yusi-
nuary, 1714. At this place, the am- pania.-It does not appear likely that
bassadors, owing to the great rigour the above dissimilar names should re-
of the season, which rendered it im- late to the same nation ; and, with
possible for a large party to proceed, great deference to Sir George, we
were detained for several months, du- would venture to suggest the perhaps
ring which period, notwithstanding the less improbable notion, that under the
severity of the weather, they were suc name of Sepenseky, the author may
cessively entertained by the Russians, have intended to designate Great Bria
with feasts, and with parties of plea- tain, in spite of the absence of all
sure, either for shooting with bows “plausible analogy," upon which such
and arrows, riding or fishing on the a conjecture could be formed. But to
banks of the river.” A messenger, how- return.—On the 17th of June, the am-
ever, was despatched without delay to bassadors quitted Saratof, and cross-
A-yan-ke Khan, to acquaint him with ing the Volga, arrived at the head.
the arrival of the heavenly messengers, quarters of the Tourgouths, on the
at Saratof, who received the account banks of the Lake Ma-nu-to, on the
with great satisfaction, and immedi. Ist of July, 1714, where they were re-
ately gave directions for providing ceived with every mark of profound re-
tents, carpets, clothing, &c. for their spect and veneration. The officers,
accommodation, to be kept in readiness priests, and chiefs, of the different
to join the ambassadors at Saratof, tribes, subject to A-yu-ke, together
whenever the spring was sufficiently with their followers, were all drawn up
advanced to allow of their proceeding. in lines on the road ; while the com-
At this part of the narrative the au mon class of people came out to meet
thor enters more fully than usual into the Chinese to a considerable distance,
somewhat of a general description of prostrating themselves before them,
the Russian empire, its extent, pro- and offering them every mark of good
ductions, climate, and origin, together will and kindness.
with a few remarks upon the national On the following day, the ambassa-
character of the people, their laws, ha- dors had their first audience of A-yu-
bits, and customs, which, as far as ke, who is said to have received the
they go, appear tolerably accurate, edict of the emperor kneeling, and to
though very meagre and unsatisfactory. have conducted himself otherwise with
The author seems to have been well. marked subinission-circumstances in
informed with respect to the war be- which we do not agree with Sir George


1921.]
Narrative of the Chinese Embassy.
219
Staunton in thinking so improbable as presented as shewing the utmost anxi-
he appears to apprehend.
ety to conciliate the Chinese, by at-
In the course of the narrative, tending, in the most minute manner,
many reasons occur to induce a suspi- to their slightest requests, and to every
cion that some secret understanding thing that could conduce to their com-
existed between the Tourgouths and fort and security, on their return home.
the Chinese, previously to the depar In recording these interviews, how-
ture of the embassy from Pekin; for, ever, we are fearful our author has in-
on any other supposition, it is not easy dulged a little in his talent for ampli-
to account for a government so devoid fication, though he falls very far short,
of enterprize as that of the Chinese, in this instance, of his after efforts in
engaging in an extensive and hazar- the official report of the proceedings of
dous undertaking, merely to ascertain the embassy, given in a subsequent
the safest mode of returning a fugitive part of the work, and which we parti-
prince to his native country. Indeed, cularly recommend to the perusal of
that the latter did not form the real our readers, as the choicest specimen of
object of the mission, is pretty evident servile adulation and oriental bombast
from the various conferences that took and insolence we have ever encounter-
place between A-yu-ke and the ambas. ed. About the 25th of January, the
sadors, all of which are characterized ambassadors took their final leave of
by a singularinquisitiveness on the part Tobolski and its governor, and quitting
of the former, with respect to many mi- their former road, proceeded over an
aute particulars relating to the actual uninteresting and thinly inhabited
state of the Chinese Empire at that pe- country, through the towns of Tara,
riod, for which it would be difficult to and Towsky, to Yeneseik, and thence
assign any adequate motive, except to slightly deviating from their old tract,
an intention of again placing himself they passed by way of Elimsky to Ir-
and his followers, under the protection kutsky. At this place they again fell
of their ancient sovereign. On this sup- into their former route, and continuing
position, the reception experienced by their journey, arrived without accident
the ambassadors at their first interview at Pekin, on the 26th of June, 1715,
with the Khan, is precisely the one after an absence of somewhat more
that might have been anticipated ; and than three years.
we cannot therefore help thinking, that At their return, the ambassadors
Sir George, on this occasion, bears un were treated with great favour by the
necessarily hard upon the veracity of Emperor, who personally received their
his author, when he eharges him with report of the transactions, and the re-
giving the supposed," rather than the sult of the mission, and bestowed upon
real manner in which the edict was re- them some of the highest marks of his
ceived.
approbation. The official report, to
After remaining about a fortnight which we have before alluded, then
with the Tourgouths, during the whole follows, together with the imperial an-
of which period they appear to have swer, which we subjoin for its brevity
been treated in the most amicable and and pithiness, as a useful guide to the
confidential manner, the ambassadors framers of all future replies to loyal
took their final leave of the Khan, on addresses.—“We understand your ad-
the 24th of July, and set out on their dress, and have referred it to the pro-
return, having previously, in the course per tribunal. Your map we retain for
of several highly amusing and interest- further examination.”
ing conferences, on which our limits The remainder of the narrative com-
will not allow us to dwell, settled, ap- prises a few private events relative to
parently to the satisfaction of all par- the author, together with some account
ties, the objects of the mission. On of a second mission, upon which he
the 7th of September, the ambassa- was employed, to the frontiers of Rus-
dors reached Cazan, and on the 11th of sia, and his communication on that
December, arrived at Tobolski, where occasion with Prince Gagarin, the lat-
they remained somewhat more than a ter of which is written pretty much in
month, waiting the return of Prince the same bombastical and 'ridiculous
Gagarin, then absent on a visit to Mos- style that distinguishes the official re-
cow. On his arrival, several conferen- port, but with apparently a much
ces again took place between him and greater violation of truth. In what
the envoys; in all of which he is re manner the above communication was


220
Narrative of the Chinese Embussy.
[May,
received, we are not informed, the nar- number of the Pekin Gazettes, many
rative concluding with Tu-li-shin's of which discover a degree of justice,
letter to the Russian governor. promptitude, and decision of conduct,
To the foregoing account, Sir George in the executive administration of af-
has subjoined a valuable appendix, fairs, and an earnest desire to influ-
containing the “ abstract of part of a ence and conciliate public opinion on
Chinese novel, some notices of Chinese state questions, which if, happily for
plays, an extract from a Chinese Her- maukind, it were the nature of govern-
bal, and a collection of miscellaneous ments ever to profit by experience,
documents, extracted from the Pekin might possibly prove a salutary lesson
gazette,” all of which will be read with to the rulers of some other countries,
interest, though we are sorry that the who, in the plenitude of self-compla-
translator should have confined his ex- cency and power, blindly attempt to
tracts from the Chinese drama, to the arrest by coercion, the slow but steady
mere“ notices” of four plays, which, march of public opinion. As a speci-
at best, can give little or no idea of the men of the Gazettes, we insert the fol-
state of this branch of their literature. lowing, which we give without selec-
We experienced a similar disappoint- tion.--" Imperial Ediet.”
ment in the abstract from the novel, Na-yen-tching possesses in out-
and are scarcely yet reconciled with ward appearance some talents, but is
Sir George, for tantalizing us with the deficient in judgment, and is tardy and
slight glimpse he has afforded of a undecisive when matters of importance
work which, from its nature, promises are laid before him, and yet does not
much entertainment, and a considera- attend to the words of others, but is
ble insight into the manners and do- satisfied of the propriety of his own
mestic habits of the Chinese. It is true, opinion. The few good qualities which
he informs his readers that he gave up he may be allowed to possess, are in-
the idea of a complete version of the sufficient to cover his misdeeds. By a
latter, from the want of sufficient in- strict execution of the laws, he should
terest in the sequel, to induce him to have been deprived of all his dignities,
proceed, as well as from certain cir- and banished to Elle, as an expiation
cumstances in the winding up of the of his offences; but, because all the
story, which might not altogether ac other relatives of A-kowi have already
cord with the feelings of the present been sent into banishment, during this
day. Nevertheless, we cannot help last half year, for different causes, we
wishing he had persisted in his first cannot patiently endure the idea that
intention, of giving the whole novel to not one should remain to perpetuate
the public, not only for the reasons we the name and family of that ancient
have assigned, but because it is obvious and faithful minister. But as Na-yen-
from the nature of the undertaking, tching can neither acquit himself with
that the number of individuals must credit or success in the field, or with
be trifling indeed, whose qualifications propriety or decision in council, he is
and experience could in any degree an unprofitable and useless servant of
render them competent to a task, the state, whom it is indispensibly re-
which we learn with deep regret, from quisite that we should remove from
the total abandonment of his “ Chi- every office and employment of impor-
nese pursuits,” there is no longer any tance; we hereby, therefore, deprive
chance of our seeing accomplished by him of his office as president at one of
the sensible and highly gifted transla- the supreme tribunals, as a general in
tor of the work betore us.
the army, and as a dignitary of the
The extract from the Chinese Her- peacock's feather ; but, as a mark of
bal is a most curious specimen of the our especial grace and favour, we grant
accurate and minute manner in which him all the rank of a vice-president of
the “ Chinese treat subjects connected the imperial college ; and if he conduct
with science and the arts,” and we himself eight years without blame in
think, with Sir George Staunton, cer that situation, we shall permit him to
tainly justifies the hope that some receive the salary that is usually at-
valuable practical information may yet tached to it.
be drawn from some of their works of “ The state and efficiency of our
this description.” But by far the most military force has been greatly impro-
remarkable part of the appendix will ved of late ; able-bodied men have
be found in the extracts given from a been selected, and furnished with ade-


1821.]
Narrative of the Chinese Embassy.
221
quate supplies of stores of every kind. quainted with the Chinese people and
Ge-le-teng-pas, and the other experi, government, than any other work we
enced generals in command, are fully have ever perused, it would be injus-
competent to accomplish our design of tice to the translator to forbear noti-
bringing the war to a conclusion in the cing the very able manner in which he
course of the present campaign ; we appears to have surmounted the va-
forbid, therefore, for the future, any rious and great difficulties of his un-
civil or military officer, excepting those dertaking. We cannot, indeed, from
peculiarly distinguished by the title of our own knowledge, speak with cer-
great officers of state, to present to us tainty as to the accuracy with which
any observations or remonstrances on the original is rendered, but the whole
the state of the army, and operations is written with so much simplicity,
of the campaign, as such communica- perspicuity, and elegance, and exhi-
tions have the effect of raising inju- bits such internal evidence of fidelity,
rious suspicions and erroneous ideas, that even were the rare acquirements
highly detrimental to the cause of Sir George Staunton, and the sound-
Khin-tse.”
ness of his understanding less known
Much more might be said upon the to us, we should feel little hesitation
various topics the work embraces, but in recommending it to the attention of
we freely confess our inability to do our readers, not only as one of the
thern full justice, even if our limits most curious literary productions of
did not warn us to bring our observa- the age, but also as a faithful and
tions to a close. In taking our leave highly intelligent version of the origi-
of this singular and interesting book, nal Chinese narrative.
which certainly brings us better ac-
EXTRACT FROM HERODOTUS.
Ir is amusing to the contemplative opinion by the following arguments :
man, who, in the seclusion of his study, "I do not think that it is any long-
inhabits, as it were, a world of his own, er safe to entrust the supreme power
to trace back to periods of the remotest of the state to the hands of a single
antiquity the same topics which still person. Ye remember to what excess
form the subjects of hostile dispute Cambyses went, and to what degree of
amongst the warring factions of the insolence we have seen the Magus ar-
world without him. For the last half rive. How can the state be well gow
century the minds of men have been verned in a monarchy, where a single
almost exclusively engrossed with the person is permitted to do everything
study of politics, and this universal according to his pleasure ? Authority
fever has called into existence a race without a check corrupts the most vir-
of political quacks, who have prepared tuous man, and deprives bim of his
their nostrums according to the pre- best qualities. Envy and insolence
vailing symptoms of the distemper. arise from present riches and prospe-
But, after reading all that has been rity; and all other vices flow from
written by these constitution-mongers, these two, when a man is possessed of
from the Abbé Sieyes, down to Jere every thing. Kings hate virtuous men
my Bentham, both inclusive, we doubt who oppose their designs, but caress
whether we might not collect a clearer the wicked who favour them. A single
view of the subject from a few pages man cannot see everything with his
of the great father of history-Hero- own eyes; he often lends a favourable
dotus; when he relates what passed ear to bad reports and false accusa-
in the council of the seven chiefs of tions; he subverts the laws and cus-
Persia, when the government was a toms of the country; he attacks the
bout to be re-stablished after the death honour of women, and puts the imo-
of Cambyses, and the punishment of cent to death by his caprice and his
Magus, who had usurped the throne power. When the people have the go-
under the pretext of being Smerdis, vernment in their hands, the equality
the son of Cyrus.
amongst the members prevents all these
Otanes, one of the assembled chiefs, evils. The magistrates are in this case
recommended that Persia should be chosen by lot; they render an account
come a republic, and supported his of their administration, and they form


Extract from Herodotus.
(May,
all their resolutions in common with think, that he is not entirely right
the people. I am of opinion, therefore, when he prefers the government of a
that we ought to reject monarchy, and small number to a monarchy. It is
introduce a popular government, be- certain, that nothing can be imagined
cause we shall be more likely to find better or more perfect than the go-
the advantages we seek in many, than vernment of a virtuous man. Besides,
in a single person.” Such was the opi- when a single man is the master, it is
nion of Otanes.
more difficult for enemies to discover
But Megabyses spoke in favour of secret counsels and enterprizes. When
aristocracy." I approve," said he, "of the government is in the hands of
the opinion of Otanes, with respect to many, it is impossible but enmity and ·
exterminating monarchy, but I believe hatred must arise among them; for
he is wrong in endeavouring to per- as every one wants that his opinion
suade us to trust the government to should be followed, they gradually be-
the discretion of the people, for it is come enemies. Emulation and jea-
certain, that nothing can be imagined lousy divide them, and then their ha-
more foolish and insolent than the po- treds run to excess. Hence arise se-
pulace. Why should we reject the ditions ; from seditions, murders; and
power of a single man, to deliver our from murders and blood, we see a
selves up to the tyranny of a blind and monarch become insensibly necessary.
disorderly multitude? If a king sets Thus the government always falls at
about any enterprize, he is at least last into the hands of a single person.
capable of listening to others; but the In a popular state, there must neces-
people is a blind monster, equally des- sarily be a great deal of malice and
titute of reason and capacity. They corruption. It is true, equality ge-
are unacquainted both with decency, nerates no hatred, but it foments
virtue, and even their own interests. friendship amongst the wicked, who
They do every thing without judg- support each other, till some man who
ment, and without order, and resem- has rendered himself agreeable to the
ble a rapid torrent, which can have no people, and acquired an authority over
bounds set to it. If therefore ye wish the multitude, discovers their fraud,
the ruin of the Persians, establish a and exposes their perfidy. Then such
popular government among them. As a man shews himself truly a nonarch;
for myself, I am of opinion that we and hence we may know that mo-
should make choice of some virtuous narchy is the most natural govern-
men, and lodge the government and ment, since the seditions of aristocra-
the power in their hands." Such were cy, and the corruptions of democracy,
the sentiments of Megabyses. :. have an equal tendency to make us
After him, Darius spoke in the fol- have recourse to the unity of a su-
lowing terms :-" I am of opinion, preme power." The opinion of Dari-
that there is a great deal of justice in us was approved, and the government
the speech which Megabyses has made of Persia continued monarchical.
against a popular state; but I also
ON PARLIAMENTARY REFORM.
Reform has sunk into the establish- the nature of his political virtues, and
ed theme for incipient oratory, and it the waste of his time.
has been found the most convenient The public journals have already
of all discharges for the accumulated given his tale of failure. Nothing could
common-place of patriotism fresh from be more solemn than the preparative
school. I'wo attempts at bringing it for this tournament of the young Chi-
into notice have been lately made. One valry of Opposition. All the graver
by Mr Lambton, the young lulus and more battered champions had left
of the fallen empire of the Foxites, the field clear, and were posted at safe
who seems to have adopted the injunc- distances to exhilarate themselves with
tion of his model with pious fidelity; the recollection of the field. The
• Disce, pter, virtutem ex me, verumque let
down, and Radicalism had already
trumpets sounded, and the lists were
laborem.”
stooped its gracious presence to crown
No man can follow example closer in the conquerors, when it was discover«


1821.]
On Parliamentary Reform.
ed that the champions had disappear. be given to the personages who have
ed in the crisis of the charge, and laid their hands on " glorious reform”
were actually sitting tranquilly at dine since their incarceration. Cacus, in
ner, discussing nothing more deadly his chains, hearing of the plunder of
than the wines and cookery of the sheep and beeves by base hands of
most profuse of all entertainers. The peasants, could not have writhed with
motion, of course, fell to the ground; mightier wrath against his clown-
and it was not honoured in its death, ish imitators. With what lofty scorn
“ Solvuntur risu tabule.” Mr Can- must the great detenu in Ilchester jail
ning, the most adroit and insidious of see the glories of Manchester and Spa-
all scorners, pointed the House to the fields, sullied by the touch of Opposi-
ridicule of its desertion; and when its tion—the sceptre of the Thunderer, hot
advocates returned, the ridicule was and heavy as it was, thieved away by
not forgotten. Another attempt has Mercury! With what agony must the
since been made by Lord John Rus- martyrs who have expatriated their
sel, on grounds more entitled to dis- spirits and their bones for the respec-
cussion. His motion was negatived tive terms of seven and fourteen years,
by a majority of between forty and glance on that remote country of the
fifty; a trivial number, which the west, whose reform has become the
Reformers argue into a victory. But toy of a group of giddy boys, who, ac-
the fact is, that the topic seems to have cording to the custom of their innocent
been looked on as so little worthy of and hungry age, fling it down for a
public interest, that a dozen votes dinner. The spirit of Guy Faux could
more or less, might have been thrown not put on a darker frown, at rising
in from perfect nonchalance. There on a fifth of November, and finding
was no expectation of its passing ; and his death-dealing lantern and matches
till some such conception begins to be in the hands of the young rabble. The
formed, the serious feeling of the result is, that even the populace are
House of Commons seldom takes the sick of the eternal jargon of parlia-
trouble of shewing itself.
mentary restoration. And if there is
The question has thus perished in any reform that they value beyond a
the legislature, but it has also perish- paragraph in a hustings speech, it is
ed with the people. The multitude, undoubtedly of that solid kind alluded
headlong and ignorant, are yet not to in the election committee"areform
altogether so blind or so rash as to in the practice of the last candidates,
give perpetual confidence to the Oppo- who gave nothing at all to the voters,
sition. They have heard the same out whereas it had been the custom to give
cry against men and politics, till it them a guinea a-piece, and upwards."
has lost all power of awakening them, The bungling of the Opposition has
or awakens them only to weariness and actually spoiled the reform-trade. The
contempt of the criers. Reform has Jackpudding has taken it upon him.
past its season, by a whole summer; self, in the Mountebank's absence, to
å formidable time in the almanack of distribute the potions, and play the
popular disturbance. A good harvest tricks; and the consequence is, that
has stopped the mouths of the hungry, the rabble have deserted the booth.
and with their hunger has died their To any man of candour, there are but
discontent. Bolts and dungeons have two points of view, in which the ques-
narrowed the patriotic vigour of those tion of a parliamentary reform can pre-
whose only hunger and thirst was re sent itself.-It must be, as increasing
volution ; and the principal patriots the present power of the Commons,
have found their chief employment or changing the mode of its election.
in writing their memoirs, and nurtu- On the first head, no discussion has
ring their beards, occupations equally been raised. The House of Commons
worthy of them, and equally importo is powerful, perhaps, to the full extent
ant to the “ great cause of liberty of public safety. We pass over the
round the globe." But if those men usual topics of the necessity of preser-
can cast an eye from their sublime oc- ving a balance of the three Estates.
cupations on the little doings of the But it is obvious, that, even as a mere
under-ground world, their most cone expedient for gaining the time neces-
temptuous and indignant sneer must sary to a sound judgment on great pub-
VOL. IX.


224
On Parliamentary Reform.
[May,
lic questions, the power of debate and peers, must be the tyrant of the nation,
decision ought to extend beyond the and finally must either give itself up,
Commons; the will of the House ought bound hand and foot, to despotism, or
not to be authoritative, final, irrever- excite the furious and irresistible in-
sible. It is by no means clear, that dignation that makes it the victim of
there are not circumstances in which the populace. This is history--the suc-
the popular power, concentrated in the cessive steps may have a shorter or a
House, may not be too great for the longer interval, but the succession is
people. There have been contests be- as sure as from intemperance to decay,
tween the courts of law and the Com- from opening the flood-gates of demo-
mons, within the latter half of the last cracy to being swept away by its tor-
century, on interests serious enough to rent-from thrusting our torch into a
make a jealous nation tremble. The powder magazine, to being flung up in
power of imprisonment for contempt, atoms by its explosion.
and of sweeping within that imprison There is nothingnewin politics-the
ment a number of individuals, of whom same absurdities and artifices on which
but one may be the criminal, has ex- our ignorant disaffection has rejoiced
cited strong animadversion before our with the joy of originality, have been
time.
played off ages before we were born. In
The second point-the composition 1648, the orators of the House of Com-
of the House, is the grand topic of all mons persuaded it to come to the follow-
the miscellaneous oratory of patriot- ing resolution:“Resolved, that the peo-
ism, from that which drivels from the ple are, under God, the originalofall just
lip steeped in Michael Angelo Tay- powers.” The resolution seems harm-
lor's champaigne, to that which burns less and undeniable. But reform has
with the united inspiration of gin and been seldom satisfied with pausing in
despair.
its progress, from abstract truth to vi-
It is but justice to the Revolutionist gorous practice. A following resolu-
in jail, or out, to allow that he is the tion declared, “ That the Commons
only consistent reformer. He would assembled in parliament, being chosen
sweep away all at once. He would have by the people, have the supreme autho-
no little selfish longing to save one rity of the nation.” The final resolu-
fragment of the building to the over tion overthrew the frame of the state
throw of another, because some small and laws at a blow,-"Resolved that
family interest has built its nest in the whatever is declared law by the Com-
corner to be saved. He would not pre- mons, has the force of law; and all
serve a favourite ditch or door-post upon the people of this nation are included
the ground. His plough makes clear thereby, although the consent and con-
work; he sows the trench with revolu currence of the King and House of
tionary salt, and curses all who would Peers be not had thereto.” Are we in-
dare to restore the old sullen structure clined to return to the hazards of
that so long frowned over the field. 1648 ?
What he would erect in place of its But of the moderate reformers (in
shelter, sullen as it was, has no share the House) who is to reconcile the
in his thoughts or troubles. He takes opinions ? Every man of the hundred
it for granted that men will not stand and fifty has his scheme. They puff
long without trying to raise some roof their policies with an enthusiasm, that
against the common shocks and visita- might do honour to Cornhill, and each
tions of the political seasons. But what man boasts of his infallible way to se-
contrivance they are to adopt, or how cure the Capital Prize. There can be
they are to be protected till the choice no rational hope of an improvement in
is made, whether they are to crowd the formation of the House, where the
their naked and unfed siiles into the ground work is to be laid in ignorance,
architecture of Turk, or Scythian, or that will not learn, and in passion, that
Saxon, or Roman, he trusts to the Pro- cannot understand ; in the virulent
vidence to which he will trust nothing hatred of political opponents, and in
else.
the paltry ambition of making a name
A House of Commons chosen by the among the rabble.
numerical power of the nation, must It is certainly to be desired, that
be the house of the populace, must be where the most important interests of
the slaves of the populace, must be the England are to meet their most im-
destroyers of the throne and of the portant discussion, no meaner influence
1


1821.]
On Parliamentary Reforma
225
should take a share that where the “ That with strong beer and beef, the
hecatomb is given for the state, no
country rules,
spotted and diseased offering should
And ever since the Conquest, have been
stain the altar. If it were possible to
fools.”
convert the House of Commons into Is it to be cast out of the account of
an assembly of pure integrity, and practical results—when all that is good
perfect wisdom, it would be eminent- must be practical—that almost without
ſy desirable. But is it within the con an exception, the great luminaries and
trivance of law and regulation, to ex. leaders of the state have been the gift
clude the influence of wealth, and birth, of close boroughs? That Chatham, and
and authority? Under what dexteri- Burke, and Pitt, and Fox, and a whole
ty of exclusion will not twenty thou host of illustrious names, were first
sand pounds a-year inany county, from lifted before the public on those steps
Berwick to Sussex, or even from a more which the axe of reform would hew
northern boundary—if we might ven- away? The subject is too extensive
ture to a region so incorruptible—not for my paper or my time. But, ad-
be felt through the neighbourhood ? mitting in the fullest degree, the ne-
Is it nothing, that the system of uni- cessity of keeping the conscience of
versal suffrage would make our foot, parliament vigilant and pure, we must
men and chimney sweepers the arbi- beware of suffering it to be guided on-
ters of our liberties ? that the system ly by the fantastic reveries of the po-
of exclusive county representation pulace, or the gloomy and insidious
would inundate the House, with the superstition of those who see nothing
lazy opulence of fox-hunters, and far, good but in themselves, and their
mers, and all that well-fed class, bloody and desperate resolve of ruin..
RIPVANWINKLE.
SIR,
by his father into the fields to tend his
The American tale of Ripvanwin: flock, oppressed by the heat of the mid-
kle's sleep, which has, no doubt, been day sun, quitted the high road, and
perused by most of your readers, in retired into the shade of a cavern, where
the “ Sketch Book," bears so close a he slept for 57 years. Awaking from
resemblance in its circumstances to this sleep, he began to search for his
that related of Epimenides, that I sheep, but could not find them; and
cannot but think the author must on going out into the fields, he obser-
have had the latter before him. I ved, that the face of all things was
will, therefore, desire you to insert a changed, and the lands now become the
translation of part of the life of Epime- property of another master. He re-
nides, from Diogenes Laertes,* which turned 'home confounded and asto-
will, I think, induce you to draw the nished. Arrived at his own house, he
same conclusion.
was asked by the occupier of it, who
Yours, &c.
he was; when at last, being recogni-
WM. BAINBRIGGE. zed by his brother, who was then grown
old, was informed of the truth of
Epimenides, being one day sent what had happened.”
he
65
• L. I. p. 77. See also Pliny, L. VII. c 52.


926
[May,
Letter from Rio de Janeiro.
LETTER FROM RIO DE JANEIRO.
Rio de Janeiro, Jan. 26, 1821. see them carrying it on without re-
Mr EDITOR,
straint, and while the importers of
DRJOHNsOn observes, “that friend slaves continue to contribute material-
ship, like love, is destroyed by long ly to the wants of a needy exchequer,
absence, though it may be increased it is hardly to be expected that the
by short intermissions, and the asser- Government will take any decisive
tion is certainly true. A very few means to put a stop thereto, unless
years removal from my nativity have through the remonstrance of some
estranged many of those recollections power they are bound to respect.
which I at one time felt assured were Britain, example worthy of herself,
too deeply engraven on my mind to was the first to declare, (contrary to
stand in want of any periodical revival. the individual interest of many of her
Your Magazine is forwarded me from subjects) her aversion to this inhuman
Liverpool, as regularly as opportunities traffic. America, retaining her mater-
will admit, and still retains its place in nal love of liberty, has announced it
my esteem ; indeed, I feel more anxi- death for any of her citizens to be con-
ety on opening one of your numbers nected, directly or indirectly, therein.
three months after its publication, than France has declared it illegal, and it is
I used to do when, posting down to the there generally treated with that ab-
Trongate, I had it delivered to me still horrence it deserves. I have just seen
wet from the press, and justling through an article in the “ Revue Encylope-
the thoroughfare with my number un- dique” for August last, wherein the
der my arm, made the best of my way, Parisian press does liberal justice to
to Portland-street, where, (unmindful the exertions of Britain in behalf of
of the landlady's suggestions that my the Africans ; had their emancipation
tea cooled in the dish,) I applied my been complete, it best became her to
knife to the top of your pages, without remain silent on the subject of these
perceiving that I buttered the subjects exertions; but while such an extent
which you
had belaboured.
of that unhappy country still remains
I am here the daily witness of an subject to this cruel oppression, she
increasing evil, the limiting, of which ought not to sit down in contemplation
to the southern hemisphere, has remo- of what she has achieved, and give
ved it further from the observation of others an opportunity of overstepping
those friends to humanity, whose lau- her in the pursuit.
dable exertions have effected its partial If any of your able contributors
suppression, but cannot lessen the ini- would take this subject in hand, it
quity of such a traffic. When Portu- might meet the eye of some of our
gal, agreeably to the wishes of the philanthropic countrymen, who, bu-
Sovereigns in Congress, renounced hersied in endeavouring to alleviate the
prosecution of the slave trade to the distresses under which Britain has late-
northward of the Line, she further pro- ly groaned, may have overlooked for a
mised her exertions to bring about a while the more distant complaints of
gradual abolition thereof on those parts these injured fellow-creatures, but in
of the African coast, to which she still whose bosoms still as keenly glow the
retained a claim. But to this date have wish and determination to protect
these promised exertions been made? them.
On the contrary, the dread of in I am, with esteem,
terference from Powers which have
Mr Editor,
espoused the cause of humanity, seems
Your obedient servant,
to have stimulated the Portuguese to
S.
a more active pursuit of the trade. We


1891.)
227
Lord Byron and Pope.
LORD BYRON AND POPE.*
We wish that Lord Byron would con- trouble to write ill, than it takes others
fine himself to poetry;
or if he will to write well ; and, try as much as he
write prose, we wish at least that his may, he cannot entirely divest himself
friends would not be so eager to pub- of those splendid qualifications, which
lish it. This wish is dictated by the occasionally reveal themselves, even in
sincerest admiration of his genius,- the production before us. For instance,
and it is painful to us to have our ad- in the description of the storm in the
miration diminished. It is true that Archipelago, we recognize the glowing
Kean sometimes condescends to ap- pen of the first poet of the age.
pear in farce, but then it is only for We are almost tired of the Pope
his benefit, and an actor may perhaps controversy ; but as it is our bounden
be pardoned for exposing himself on duty to follow the fashion of the hour,
such an occasion, in order to fill his “and chase the new-blown bubble of
pockets; but we can perceive no such the day,” we must say a few words on
excuse for the exhibition of Lord By- the subject, though with no hope of
ron in the pages of Pamphlets and setting a question at rest, which has
Magazines, in letters which would do been so long and so pertinaciously agi-
littlecredit to any writer, and are wholly tated. Lord Byron may have bowled
unworthy of the illustrious author of down some of the “ invariable princi-
Childe Harold. There is, perhaps, in ples” of his antagonist, because, though
all Lord Byron's writings, a too con- right in the main, Mr Bowles's expla-
stant introduction of himself;—but nations have not done justice to his
this egotism, which we can scarcely meaning; yet we think his Lordship
tolerate, even when enveloped in the has not succeeded in hitting the wicket
graceful folds of his muse's veil, be- of truth; but that many of the posi-
comes absolutely nauseous and disgust- tions in his letter are quite as erroneous
ing when obtruded upon us in all the as those which he has with so much
nakedness of plain prose.
sarcastic severity attacked.
The letter which is the subject of There has been, we think, a great
our present remarks is aldressed to waste of words on both sides, in discus-
**** ******, (which being interpret- sing whether images derived from na-
ed, means John Murray,) on the Rev. ture or from art, are the most poetical.
W. L. Bowles' Strictures on the Life Mr Bowles says,—"I presume it will
and Writings of Pope. In the motto, readily be granted that all images drawn
his lordship says, “ I will play at from what is beautiful or sublime in
Bowls ;" but the progress of his letter the works of nature, are more beauti-
resembles rather a game at Skittles. ful and sublime than any images drawn
He lays about him in all directions as from art; and that they are therefore
he advances, hitting to the right and per se more poetical.” More than one
to the left; or, as he elegantly ex half the disputes in the world would
presses it himself, “ Having once be- be prevented, if the contending par-
gun, I am like an Irishman in a “row,' ties would only be at the pains of de-
any body's customer." The letter, con- fining what they mean by the words
sidered as a piece of composition, is, in which their positions are propound-
like all that he has written, clever, ed. Now, in the case before us, what
smart, energetic, bitter, obscure ; but, is meant by poetical ? If it is intended
unlike much that he has written, it is to mean that which we suppose, it does,
not only flippant, but the flippancy is the question should rather be which
of the coarsest character, partaking class of objects is best adapted to de-
rather of the slang of the pot-house, light the imagination, to move the
than the sallies of the drawing-room. heart, and to elevate the mind and the
We really believe, however, that it thoughts above the dull prosaical de-
must take Lord Byron more time and tails of the world in which we live,
Letter to
******, by the Right Hon. Lord Byron. London ; Murray, 1821.


228
Lord Byron and Pope.
(May,
and breathe, and have our being. Is it those sentient beings that bask in the
not evident that before we can deter- brightness of his beams? or what the
mine which are the most poetical, we charm of the silver mantle of the peer-
we must first agree what poetry is ? less Queen of night, if we could con-
The greatest of poets has prayed for a ceive her wasting her beauty in the
muse of fire to ascend the brightest inanimate blank of an eyeless universe?
heaven of invention; and some wings That the works of art are no less po-
are necessary even to the readers of etical than those of nature, Mr Camp-
poetry, without which we shall never bell has also most successfully demon-
be able
strated in his instance of the launch of
6 To lift from earth our low desires."
a ship; and his beautiful description
of the associations which such a spec-
or be filled with those ideal musings, tacle awakens in the minds of the spec-
elevated thoughts, and lofty aspira- tators, shews that he uses the word po-
tions, which it is the province of poetry etical in the sense that we wish to‘at-
to inspire. That the grand works of tach to it. How could Lord Byron,
nature, awakening in us, as they do, whose writings breathe the very soul
associations which lead our minds to of poetry, write such a sentence as the
the contemplation of the Great Author following ?-_“ We are asked, what
of Nature, are, in our sense of the makes the venerable towers of West-
word, eminently poetical, none will de- minster-Abbey more poetical, as ob-
ny; and we can understand, how, un- jects, than the Tower for the manu.
der certain circumstances, the meanest factory of patent shot, surrounded by
flower that blows may call up the same scenery? I will answer, ar-
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for chitecture.” What, is the antiquity of
tears,”
its origin nothing ?-the kings that
have been crowned in it, nothing ?-
though this effect would, most assu the heroes, the statesmen, the poets,
redly, never be produced by one of Mr the philosophers, that are buried in it,
Bowles's minute descriptions ;—but it nothing ?-the solemn services that
does not therefore follow, as Mr Bowles have hallowed it, nothing?
would persuade us, that all images
-If this be nothing,
drawn from nature are more poctical Why then the world, and all that's in't,
than
any
derived from art; and still is nothing !”
less does it follow, according to the Lord Byron did not so think, and so
same Mr Bowles, that the poet “must
have an eye attentive to, and familiar feel, when he stood within the Coli-
seum's wall:-
with, every external appearance that
she may exhibit in every change of
_”Till the place
season, every variation of light and Became Religion, and the heart ran o'er
shade, every rock, every tree, every With silent worship of the great of old !
leaf." The Lord defend us from such The dead, but sceptred, Sovereigns, who
still rule
a poet! We agree with Mr Camp-
bell, that such qualifications would on-
Our spirits from their urns."
ly be essential to a Dutch flower-paint-
Manfred.
er; and we entirely coincide with the But to return to Pope.—The ques-
following beautifulremarks of the same tion no longer is, as Johnson tells us it
writer. " Nature is the poet's god- once was, « Whether Pope is a poet?”
dess; but by nature no one rightly un -but to ascertain the order to which
derstands her mere inanimate face, he belongs, that we may assign him his
however charming it may be-or the proper place in the poetical calendar.
simple landscape-painting of trees, Lord Byron, however, assures us, that
clouds, precipices, and flowers. Na- all this “ ordering" of poets is purely
ture, in the wide and proper sense of arbitrary on the part of Mr Bowles,
the term, means life in all its circum- “ that the poet is always ranked ac-
stances,-nature moral, as well as ex- cording to his execution,”—"and that
ternal.” Nothing is more true, than the poet who executes best is the high-
that the grandest scenes of nature est, whatever his department, and will
only excite our interest or awaken ever be so rated in the world's esteein,”
our sympathy, by connecting them Now we think nothing more outrage-
with human feelings and affections. ously absurd than this was ever ad-
What would the glorious Sun himself vanced by the boldest assertor of para-
be, abstracted from the thoughts of doxes. We do not know what his


1821.)
Lord Byron and Pope.
229
Lordship's politics may be, but his po- Ut magus ; et modo me Thebis modo ponit
etics are radical and 'levelling with a Athenis."
vengeance. No one means to contend, There is nothing of this in Pope.-
that excellence of execution in an in- Shall we take our idea from Shake-
ferior department, will not confer
speare?
higher rank than mediocrity in a su-
perior branch of the art. Thus,
“ The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling,
" Black-eyed Susan” may, perhaps, Doth glance from Heaven to earth, from
entitle Gay to a higher place than
earth to Heaven,
“ Prince Arthur” would confer upon The forms of things unknown, the poet's
And as the imagination bodies forth
Blackmore, in spite of the disparity of
pen
the subjects,---for a good song is a bet- Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy
ter thing than a bad epic. But shall
nothings
we therefore say, that he who attains A local habitation and a name."
excellence in the tragic, the epic, and
the lyric, is not a greater poet and Can this be applied to Pope ? We
a sublimer genius, than he who is think not. He is a moralist, a wit,
equally supereminent in the didac- a critic, and a fine writer, much more
tic, descriptive, the satirical, or the than he is a poet. Though we seldom
ludicrous; or, in other words, that quote the Edinburgh Review with any
Shakespeare, Milton, and Dryden, do marks of approbation, yet there is no
not belong to a higher order of in- rule without an exception; and in the
tellects, than Pope and Thomson, and present instance, we are glad to find
Butler and Anstey? As well might we so strong a confirmation of our senti.
say that a painter is also to be ranked ments, in the words of Mr Jeffrey.
according to his execution alone, and Speaking of the Rape of the Lock, he
that in painting as in poetry, he who
says :-
:-" There is no finer gem than
executes best is the highest, whatever this poem in all the lighter treasures
may be his department. In this case, of English fancy. Compared with any
however, every body will perceive at other mock-heroic in our language, it
once that it requires a higher order of shines out in pure supremacy for ele-
faculties to execute the “ Last Judg- gance, completeness, point, and play-
ment" and the “ Transfiguration," as fulness. It is an epic poem in that
they have been executed by Raphael delightful miniature, which diverts us
and Michael Angelo, than could be by its mimicry of greatness, and yet
displayed in any excellence of execu- astonishes us by the beauty of its parts,
tion in the inferior walks of landscape and the fairy brightness of its orna-
or caricature; and every body, but ments. In its kind it is matchless ;-
Lord Byron, will surely admit, that it but still it is but a mock-heroic, and
is impossible to display as much poe- depends in some measure for its effect,
tical power in a satire or a song, or a on a ludicrous reference in our own
mock heroic, however excellent the minds, to the veritable heroics whose
execution, as must be exerted in the solemnity it so wittily affects. His
proper execution of a Tragedy, an aerial puppets of divinity,—his sylphs
Epic Poem, or an Ode. The difference and gnomes,-and his puppet heroes
of the subjects inust, supposing each and heroines,—the beaux and belles
performance to be equally excellent of of high life-required rather a subtle
its kind, establish that gradation of than a strong hand to guide them
ranks, and that “ ordering" of the re- through the mazes of poetry. Among
spective writers, for which we think inventive poets, this poem will place
Mr Bowles is right in contending. him high. But if our language con-
And where, then, are we to place tains any true heroic creations of fan-
Pope? Let us first endeavour to satis- cy, the agents of Spenser’s and Mil-
fy ourselves with the definition of a ton's machinery will always claim a
poet. What is poetry ?--and who is superior dignity to their Lilliputian
a poet? Shall we listen to Horace? counterfeits.'
“ Ille per extentum funem mihi posse
Andagain;-“Without defining the
videtur
picturesque, we all feel that it is a
Ire Poeta, meum qui pectus inaniter an charm in poetry seldom applicable to
git,
Pope. In vain shall we search his
Irritat, mulcet, falsis terroribus implet, Pastorals, or Windsor Forest, for such


230
Lord Byron and Pope.
[May,
a landscape as surrounds the Castle of truth. Religion does not make a part
Indolence,--the Bower of Eden, or of my subject ; it is something beyond
the inimitable Hermitage of Beattie. human powers, and has failed in all
In the knowledge and description of human hands except Milton's, and
refined life, Pope was the mirror of Dante's; and even Dante's powers are
his times. He saw through human involved in his delineation of human
character in the living manners of his passions, though in supernatural cir-
age, with the eye of a judge and a sa- cumstances. What made Socrates the
tirist. But when we use the trite greatest of men? His moral truth-
phrase of Shakespeare understanding his ethics. What proved Jesus Christ
human nature, we mean something the son of God hardly less than his
more extensive than when we apply miracles ? His moral precepts. A nd
the same praise to Pope. From the if ethics have made a philosopher the
writings of the former, we learn the first of men, and have not been dis-
secrets of the human heart, as it exists dained by the Deity himself, are we to
in all ages, independent of the form be told that ethical poetry, or didactic
and pressure of the times. From Pope poetry, or by whatever name you term
we learn its foibles and peculiarities in it, whose object is to make men better
the 18th century. We have men and and wiser, is not the very first order of
women described by Shakespeare: by poetry ?"
Pope we have the ladies and gentle Now we think the whole of this
men of England. The standard of his passage, passing over the argument for
ridicule and morality is for ever con à moment is in the worst possible
nected with fashion and polite life. taste, even if it had proceeded from
Amidst all his wit, it has been the feeling the pen of Mr Bowles, who is a mini-
of many in reading him, that we miss ster of the church ;—but how are we
the simplicity of the poet in the smart- to understand it as coming from the
ness of the gentleman.”
author of Don Juan? Is it sarcasm ?
Is not this criticism for the most or irony ?-or are we to consider it as
part just? Is it not true, that Pope is an illustration of the maxim of Roche-
the poet of high life, of town life, of foucault;—“ Hypocrisy is the homage
literary life ;-dealing little in pictures which vice pays to virtue.” It is real-
of general nature and simple emotion? ly edifying to meet with a passage like
Are not his characters, as Johnson this in the very same letter in which
would distinguish them, characters of his Lordship indulges himself in the
manners rather than of nature? Is following invective. “ The truth is,
there not, in short, between Shakes- that in these days the grand “primum
peare and Pope, considered as painters mobile” in England is cant; cant po-
of character, as much difference as be- litical, cant poetical, cant religious,
tween the man who knew how the cant moral; but always cant, multi-
watch was made, and the man who plied through all the varieties of life.”
could tell the hour by looking on the
" Quis tulerit Gracchos, &c.”
dial-plate?
We should be ashamed of uttering But to resume the argument. Lord
such truisms, if it were not for the Byron having resolved to magnify the
extravagant and exaggerated praises little God of his idolatry, proceeds
that have been lately lavished on the through thick and thin to the accom-
little man of Twickenham; as if it plishment of his purpose ; and among
were the object to exalt him above all the first victims he offers upat the shrine
his rivals; and establish a sort of Pope- 'of his divinity is Cowper, who is thus
dom in the poetical, as in the religious incidentally immolated in a parenthe-
world. Lord Byron, with all the zeal sis,—“For Cowper is no poet.” We
of a partisan, endeavours to support should have thought his Lordship's
this new kind of papal supremacy, own obligations to Cowper, would have
though we think the arguments he secured him a more respectful men-
uses shew little more than the zeal of tion ; though poets are not famous for
a partisan. But let his lordship speak their gratitude to one another. Thus
for himself.
Voltaire, after borrowing from Shakes.
“In my mind, the highest of all peare, laboured most assiduously to
poetry is ethical poetry, as the highest depreciate him,- like a thief, as Ste-
of all earthly objects must be moral vens said, who, after robbing a house,


1821.]
Lord Byron qud Pope.
231
sets it on fire, to prevent the detection in its real sense, the maker,' the
of the stolen goods. It is but fair, how creators-why must this mean the
ever, to say, that his Lordship after. O liar," the “ feigner,' the tale-teller.'
wards, when he sacrifices a whole heca- A man may make and create better
tomb of schools, at the same altar does things than these.”
not spare himself. “ Sooner," says he,
“ than a single leaf should be torn
from his laurel, it were better that all “ If any great national or natural
which these men, and that I as one of convulsion could or should overwhelm
their set, have ever written, should your (it is by this pronoun that Lord B.
“ Line trunks, clothe spice, or fluttering his fathers) country in such sort, as
designates the country of himself and
in a row,
Befringe the rails of Bedlam or Soho." to sweep Great Britain from the king-
doms of the earth, and leave only that,
His Lordship adds;—“There are those after all the most living ofhuman things,
who will believe this, and those who a dead language, to be studied and read,
will not.” We have no reason to think and imitated by the wise of future
that the poetical temperament has and fargenerations upon foreign shores;
much changed since Cicero's time, who if your literature should become the
tells us ;—“Adhuc neminem cognoví learning of mankind, divested of party
poetam qui sibi non optimus videre- cabals, temporary fashions, and nation-
tur." Still we must not call in ques- al pride and prejudice; an English-
tion his Lordship's sincerity. There man, anxious that the posterity of
is something consoling and satisfacto- strangers should know that there had
ry in the heroism of self devotion ;- been such a thing as a British Epic
but we much doubt whether Lord By- and Tragedy, might wish for the pre-
ron would have been pleased at recei- servation of Shakespeare and Milton;
ving the same sentence from any other but the surviving world would snatch
judge. For ourselves we can sincere- Pope from the wreck, and let the rest
ly say, that we should be most unwil- sink with the people. He is the moral
ling to consent to the terms of the poet of all civilization, and as such let
sacrifice, and have no hesitation in ex- us hope that he will one day be the
pressing our conviction, that if Lord national poet of mankind.”
Byron continues to live and to write, Now we should have really thought
and will only abstain from Pamphlets it impossible for any person, who had
and Magazines, he will be placed by left school seven years, to write seri-
universal acclamation far above the ously in this manner of the Essay on
object of his present panegyric, and Man. There is more sublime morali-
form the fourth star of a glorious con- ty, and more impressive lessons of life
stellation with Shakespeare, Milton, and conduct, to be derived from one
and Dryden. But we forget that we play of Shakespeare, than from all the
have now to do with Lord Byron as a school-boy coinmon-places and pom-
writer of prose; and it is in the fol- pous truisms of Pope's Essay, of which
lowing style of flippant cant, and hy- the motto ought to have been, “ What
perbolical rhodomontade, that he winds oft was thought, but ne'er so well ex-
up the climax of his adoration. press’d.”-We are not advancing any
“Of his power in the passions, in den new opinion; and if it be necessary to
scription, in the mock-heroic, I leave call in the aid of authority, let us turn
others to descant. I take him upon his to the discriminating criticism of John-
-strong ground as an ethical poet: in son as an antidote to the unmeaning
the former none excel ; in the mock rhapsody of praise which we have
beroic and the ethical, none equal him; quoted above.
and in my mind the latter is the high “ The' Essay on Man,' (says John-
est of all poetry, because it does that son in his Life of Pope,) was a work of
in verse, which the greatest of men great labour and long consideration,
have wished to accomplish in prose. but certainly not the happiest of Pope's
If the essence of poetry be a lie, throw performances. The subject is perhaps
it to the dogs, or banish it from your not very proper for poetry; and the
republic as Plato would have done. poet was not sufficiently master of his
He who can reoncile poetry with truth subject; metaphysical morality was to
and wisdom, is the only true poet' him a new study; he was proud of
Vol. IX.
2 F


232
Lord Byron and Pope.
[May,
his acquisitions, and supposing him- through the columns of this article, to
self master of great secrets, was in turn, when they have concluded it, to
haste to teach what he had not learn- Johnson's Life of Pope, which might,
ed.
we think, have saved all the ink that
has been since spilled in this discus-
sion. We have already quoted so much
that we may as well conclude as we
“This Essay affords an egregious in- have begun; and shall, therefore, give
stance of the predominance of genius, our own opinion of Pope in the words
the dazzling splendour of imagery, and of the author of “ The Diary of an In-
the seductive powers of eloquence. valid;"—a volume which, with the en-
Never was penury of knowledge and tertainment of a book of travels, con-
vulgarity of sentiment so happily dis- tains much incidental observation on
guised. The reader feels his mind full, all subjects. “The character of Pope's
though he learns nothing; and when poetry may be well illustrated by one
he meets it in its new array, no longer of his own lines. It
knows the talk of his mother and his
Plays round the head, but comes not near
nurse. When these wonder-working the heart.'
sounds sink into sense, and the doc-
trine of the Essay, disrobed of its or. He delights us by the fertility of his
naments, is left to the powers of its fancy, the elegance of his imagination,
naked excellence, what shall we disco- the point and pleasantness of his wit,
ver?
That we are, in comparison with the keen discrimination of his satire,
our Creator, very weak and ignorant; and the moral good sense of his reason
that we do not uphold the chain of ing :--but he is seldom pathetic, and
existence; and that we could not make never sublime. If Eloisa to Abelard
one another with more skill than we be an exception to this observation, it
are made. We may learn yet more- is a solitary exception, and erceptio
that the arts of human life were copied probat regulum ;-besides, in that poem
from the instinctive operations of other the sentiments seem rather adopted,
animals ; that, if the world be made than the genuine offspring of the poet's
for man, it may be said that man was heart.
made for geese. To these profound " What that soul of feeling is, that
principles of natural knowledge are poetical verve by which alone the poet
added some moral instructions equally can rise to sublimity, and which Pope
new; that self-interest well under wanted, will be understood at once by
stood will produce social concord ; that comparing his Ode on Music with Dry-
men are mutual gainers by mutual den's divine effusion on the same sub-
benefits; that evil is sometimes ba- ject. His merit even in versification,
lanced by good ; that human advan seems to have been over-rated. Pope
tages are unstable and fallacious, of may perhaps be said to have done for
uncertain duration and doubtful ef verses what Arkwright did for stock-
fect; that our true honor is not to ings, by the invention of a sort of me-
have a great part, but to act it well; chanical process in their composition.
that virtue only is our own ; and that His couplets are as regular as if they
happiness is always in our power.
had been made with the unerring pre-
“Surely a man of no very comprehen- cision of a spinning jenny."
sive search, may venture to my that he This mechanical process, however, did
has heard all this before ; but it was not, in Pope's case, lighten the labours
never till now recommended by such of the workman. His verses seem al-
& blaze of embellishments, or such ways to have come from him “ like
sweetness of melody. The vigorous bird-lime from frieze.” His were not
contraction of some thoughts, the lux- the thoughts
uriant amplification of others, the in-
cidental illustrations, and sometimes
“ Which voluntary move harmonious num-
bers.”
the dignity, sometimes the softness of
the verses, enchain philosophy, sus- Inspiration had little to do with his
pend criticism, and oppress judgment poetry,—at least if we trust to the evi-
by overpowering pleasure." - Lives of dence of his manuscripts in the British
the Poets.
Museum, which shew us how literally
We earnestly recommend those gen- his verses may be said to have been
tle readers who now accompany us made with hands; and with how much


1821.)
Lord Byron and Pope.
233
labour of correction they were worked Pope-the praise that is his due. We
up to their present polish. His poetic sit down to the feast of reason and the
cal opinions are much what we should flow of fancy which his works present to
have expected from reading his poems. us with perpetual delight. The variety
Accordingly we learn from Spence, that of his powers securing us against any'
he thought “ Ben Jonson's Works ta- feeling of satiety, and the exquisite
ken altogether are but trash ;"-and taste with which he embellishes what-
in the same spirit he pronounces that ever he touches,-
“Shakespeare's dramatic style is a bad “Leaving that beautiful which still was so,
one." Again, he says in speaking of And making that which was not,-
rhyme, I have nothing to say of
rhyme, but that I doubt whether & gives to his reader a peculiar species of
poem can support itself without it in enjoyment which no other poet per-
our language, unless it be stiffened with haps can communicate. If he does not
such strange words as are likely to de- sweep the strings of the human heart
stroy our language itself. The high with that master-touch, which be-
style that is affected so much in blank longs exclusively to a higher order of
verse would not have been borne in poets, he knows how,
Milton had not his subject turned up-
on such strange out-of-the-world things
“ To wake the soul by tender strokes of
as it does." The man who could thus
write of the Paradise Lost, must sure and can at once charm the ear, delight
ly have wanted some of the qualities the imagination, and inform the un-
that are necessary to constitute the per, derstanding. These are no slight qua-
fection of the poetical temperament.
lifications, and though they may not
But while we are combating the ex- be sufficient to entitle Pope to a place
aggerated panegyrics that have been in the highest rank of poets, will ever
pronounced upon him; we must take cause hiin to shine pre-eminently in
care that we are not carried by the force the second class,—
of reaction into the opposite extreme.
“ Velut inter ignes
Let us give to Pope elegant sensible
Luna minores."
Y.
art,”
[Mr Bowles has just published a Pamphlet, the title of which we subjoin.*
We regret that we have neither space nor time to notice it particularly ; but
we beg to recommend it to our readers as a most satisfactory answer to Lord
Byron's paradoxes, and as evincing throughout the spirit of the scholar and
the gentleman. C. N.]
Two Letters to the Right Honourable Lord Byron, in Answer to his Lordship's
Letter to **** ******, on the Rev. Wm. L. Bowles's Strictures on the Life and Wri.
tings of Pope ; more particularly on the question, Whether Poetry be more imme-
diately indebted to what is Sublime or Beautiful in the works of Nature, or the works
of Art? By the Rev. Wm. L. Bowles. “ He that plays at Bowls must expect Rub-
BERS.” Old Proverb. “ Naturam expellas Furca, tamen usque recurret."--Horacè.
John Murray, Albemarle Street, London, 1821.


234
Works preparing for Publication.
[May ?
WORKS PREPARING FOR PUBLICATION.
same.
LONDON.
A History of Parga, by Ugo Foscolo, Memoirs of James the Second, in two
will shortly appear.
yols. small 8vo. with a Portrait.
Shortly will be published, a Catalogue Lucidus Ordo; a complete Course of
of the extensive Library of his Excellency Studies on the several branches of Musical
the Cardinal Fesch, which will be found Science, with a reduction of all the present
particularly rich in Abbatial and Local intricacies of thorough Bass, to one simple
Ecclesiastical History ; Royal and Noble principle of figurative designation, with
Genealogies ; Versions of the Scriptures; skeleton Exercises, &c. ; by J. Ralfe, Mu.
Sacred Philology ; Councils ; Lives of the sician in ordinary to his Majesty.
Fathers; Theology ; Canon and Civil Law; Mr M‘Kenzie's thousand Experiments
Ancient History and Biography. Toge- in Chemistry and the Useful Arts will
ther with several early printed Books and shortly appear.
Chronicles.
Feminine Worth ; a Novel by Jos, an
. The Author of " The Student's Ma. Indian Idol, who views European morals
nual,” or an Etymological and Explanatory with calmness, impartiality, and truth.
Vocabulary of words derived from the In the press, a splendid Work, by Dr
Greek, is preparing for the press a Work Turton, illustrative of the Conchology of
on a similar plan, to consist of words the British Islands. Two hundred copies
adopted from the Latin language; both of only will be printed ; the Plates all colour-
which are intended as Appendages to the ed from nature.
English Dictionaries usually placed in the Principles and Doctrines of Assurances,
hands of youth.
Annuities on Lives, and of Contingent Re-
The Faustus of Goëthe, translated by versions, stated and explained ; by Wil-
Mr George Soane ; also a translation of liam Morgan, Esq. Actuary of the Equit-
Sangerliebe ; a Provencal Legend, by the able Life Assurance Office.
The History of the Plague, as it has
· Dr Bethell, Dean of Chichester, has in lately appeared in the Islands of Malta,
the press, a general view of the Doctrine of Corfu, Cephalonia, &c.; by J. D. Tully,
Regeneration.
Esq. Surgeon to the Forces.
The personal History of King George The first volume of Dr Latham's Gene-
the Third ; by E. H. Locher, Esq. F. R. ral History of Birds, in 4to. will be publish-
S. will shortly be published in quarto. ed in June.
The second part of Horæ Entomologi Early in next Month will be published,
cæ; or Essays on the Annulose Animals; a Treatise of the Principles of Bridges by
by W. S. MacLeay, Esq. A. M. F. L. S. Suspension, with reference to the Catenary,
being an attempt to ascertain the rank and and exemplified by the Chain-Bridge over
situation which the celebrated Egyptian the Strait of Menai. In it the properties
insect, Scarabæus Sacer, holds among or of the Catenary will be fully investigated,
ganized beings.
and those of Arches and Piers will be de
The Odes of Pindar, translated into rived from the motion of a Projectile. It
English verse ; by Abraham Moore. will contain practical tables ; a table of
Speedily will be published, in three vo- the dimensions of a Catenary, and tables
lumes 8vo. an Account of the Abipones, an of the principal Chain, Rope, Stone, Wood,
equestrian people in the interior of South and Iron Bridges, with the dimensions of
America, translated from Martin Dobriz- them, erected in different countries.
hoffer, 22 years a Missionary in Paraguay. In the press, a Treatise on Scrophula,
Mr Brande's Manual of Chemistry, en- (to which the Jacksonian prize for the year
larged to 3 vols. 8vo.
1818 was adjudged by the Court of Exa-
Nearly ready for publication, a Gram- miners of the Royal College of Surgeons,)
mar of the Tamul Language ; by Robert containing its Nature, Treatment, and EF-
Anderson, Esq. of the Madras Civil Ser. fects, particularly upon Children ; and on
vice.
the alteration produced on all the different
In the press, the Adventures of the Goo. parts of the body; with especial reference
roo Noodle, and his five foolish Disciples; also to its connexion with Spinal Curva-
a comic Hindoo Tale, in the Tamul Lan- tures, Diseases of the Joints, Affections of
guage, printed in the original characters, the Glands; particularly of the Female
and accompanied by a Translation, Voca- Breasts, Testicles, and prostate Glands,
bularly, and Analysis ; by Benjamin Ba- with Diseases of the Eyes ; to which is
bington, Esq. of the Madras Civil Service. added, an Account of the Opthalmia so
Views of America, in a scries of Letters long prevalent in Christ's Hospital ; by
from that country to a friend in England, Eusebius Arthur Lloyd, Member of the
during 1818, 19, and 20, by an English Royal College of Surgeons, Senior Surgeon
to the General Dispensatory, Aldersgate
A Practical Essay, on Ring-Worm, Street, and late House-Surgeon to St Bar.
Scald-Head, &c.; by Samuel Plumbe, Esq. tholomew's Hospital, in one vol. 8vo.
woman.


1821.]
Works preparing for Publication.
235
EDINBURGH.
We are happy to inform our readers, that The History and Croniklis of Scotland,
the title of the new Work, by the “Great compilit and newly corrected be the Reve-
Unknown,” now in the press, is, “ The rend and noble Clerke, Maister Hector
Pirate;" and the scene is Shetland about Boece, Channon of Aberdene ; translatit
the end of the seventeenth century, laitly be Maister John Bellenden, Arch-
The Ayrshire Legatees, or the Cor- dene of Murray, Channon of Ros, at the
respondence of the Pringle Family, will be command of the Richt Hie, Richt Excel-
published in a few days.
lent, and Noble Prince, James the V. of
Elements of the Philosophy of Botany; that name, King of Scottis ; and im-
containing Botanical Nomenclature, Theory prentit in Edinburgh be Thomas David-
of Classification, Anatomy, Physiology, son, dwellyng forenens the Frere Wynd.
Geography, and Diseases of Plants ; with It will be accurately printed by Ballantyne,
a History of Botany ; by A. P. De Can- from the original edition in Black Letter;
dolle, and K. Sprengell. 8vo. with 8 Plates: and will be accompanied by Memoirs of
In a very small Volume, an Essay on the Boece and Bellenden. It will form two
Sentiments of Attraction, Adaptation, and handsome volumes in quarto ; each vo.
Variety.
lume containing about 450 pages.
Johnson's Scots Musical Museum, An Index to the Decisions of the Court
containing Six Hundred Scottish Songs of Session ; exhibiting the Names of the
Adapted for the Harp, Pianoforte, or Or. Pursuer and Defender, and the Date of
gan. Chiefly collected and corrected by every Reported Case ; with a Reference to
Robert Burns. Including nearly Two the Page of the Reporter's Volume, and
Hundred Songs, originally written for this to the Page of Morison's Dictionary, in
Collection, by the Bard. A new edition. which each Case is to be found. The Cases
To which are prefixed, An Introductory are arranged in the strictly Alphabetical
Essay, and Illustrations, Historical, Bio- Order of the Pursuers' Names. Those
graphical, and Critical, of the whole Lyric Cases which have the same name as Pur.
Poetry and Music contained in this great suer are arranged under the Alphabetical
National Work ; by William Stenhouse, Order of the Defenders. By means of the
6 vols. 8vo.
Double Reference, this Index will be equal-
A History of the Origin and Progress of ly useful to those who possess Morison's
the Society of Clerks to His Majesty's Sig- Dictionary, and those who have the Fa-
net in Scotland ; their Duties and Privi culty Collection and the Collections of the
leges; by William Balfour, Esq. W. S. more early Decisions.
The Poems of Alexander Montgomery, A Treatise on the History and J.aw of
Author of the Cherrie and the Slae ; with Entails ; by Erskine Douglas Sandford,
a Biographical Preface, &c. Printed by Esq. Advocate.
Ballantyne, in post 8vo., uniformly with Professor Dunbar is preparing for pub-
the Publications of Ritson, Ellis, &c. Only lication a third edition of his Greek Exer-
230 Copies printed for sale.
cises, with considerable additions, especial-
Transactions of the Society of the Anti- ly to the observations on the Idioms and
quaries of Scotland. Vol. II. Part II. 4to. to the Notes. A complete Key will be
Geometrical Analysis, and the Geome- published along with it for the use of
try of Curve Lines; by Professor Leslie, teachers. Also a new edition of Dalzel's
880. (Nearly ready.) This Work will Collectanea Majora, vol. I., in which will
inchide, not only a regular and complete be inserted, instead of the extracts from
system of Conic Sections, but will exhibit Xenophon's Cyropadia, now published in
the beautiful relations of those Higher the new edition of the Minora, the whole
Curves, ancient or modern, which either of the Seventh Book of Thucydides, and
invite the application of Algebra, or elu- in addition to the extracts from Plato, the
cidate the properties of Mechanics and Mencdenus of that author; with copious
other branches of Natural Philosophy. It Notes on the new matter, and a number of
will serve as a comprehensive Introduc- others in addition to those already published,
tion to the study of Astronomy and Phy-
The Life of Sir Thomas Craig of Ric-
sical Science ; and, being joined to the carton, author of the celebrated treatise
Elements of Geometry, will form the chief De Jure Feudali, containing biographical
part of a Course of Classical Mathematics. sketches of the most eminent Lawyers,
A short Treatise on Heat, Theoretical who were the predecessors or contempora-
and Practical ; by Professor Leslie, 8vo. ries of Craig; with incidental notices of
This Work will unfold the Principles of the Literary and Political State of Scot.
Science, and apply them, not only to the land, and of the History of the Court of
explication of the Phenomena of Climate, Session, from the period of its Institution
but to the improvement of many of the till the Union of the Crowns ; by Patrick
Mechanical and Chemical Arts.
Fraser Tytler, Esq. Advocate, F.R.S. and
The Elements of Natural Philosophy; F.S.A. author of the Life of the Admira-
by Professor Leslie, 3 vols. 8vo. Vol. I. ble Crichton.
will soon be published.
In the press, Practical Observations on


236
Works preparing for Pablication.
[May,
new matter.
Cold and Warm Bathing; with an Ao Subjects, in which will be introduced much
count of the Principal Watering Places in
He is also preparing for the
Scotland and England ; by James Millar, press, editions of Ferguson's Electricity,
M.D. Fellow of the Royal College of Phy- Lady's and Gentleman's Astronomy, Per->
sicians. (Nearly ready.)
spective and Select Mechanical Exercises,
A Treatise on the Contract of Sale ; by with notes and additions. These, with
M. P. Brown, Esq. Advocate.
the Astronomy lately published, will com-
Dr Brewster has in the press, a new prise a uniform edition of this popular
edition of Ferguson's Lectures on Select author.
MONTHLY LIST OF NEW PUBLICATIONS.
AGRICULTURE.
FINE ARTS.
CLASSICS.
LONDON.
tical arrangement of the same words, toge-
A Dissertation on Lime, and its use and ther with such others as could not be class.
abuse in Agriculture; by Thomas Hornby, ed under distinct heads, 18mo. Is. 6d.
8vo. 28.
Hints to teach Children the first Princi-
ARCHITECTURE.
ples of Music, 12mo. 38.
Observations on the Construction and Theory and Practice; or, a Guide to the
Fitting up of Chapels, illustrated by Plans, French Language ; by J. Maurois, 12mo.
Sections, and Descriptions; by Wm. Al. 5$. 6d.
exander, 4to. 99.
A Practical English Grammar for the
BOTANY.
use of Schools ; by the Rev. W. Putsey. 2s.
The British Botanist ; or a Familiar
Introduction to the Science of Botany, ex. Magazine of the Fine Arts, No. I. 38.
plaining the Physiology of Vegetation, and A Scene from the Comedy of the Clan.
the Principles both of the Artificial and destine Marriage, with portraits of Messrs
Natural Systems of Linnæus, and also the Farren, Farley, and Jones ; engraved by
Arrangement of Jussieu, 12mo. 15 Plates. Meyers, from a painting by Clint. 10s. 6d.
78. 6d. coloured, 10s. 6d.
GEOGRAPHY.
A New and Comprehensive System of
The Hecuba, Orestes, Phænician and Modern Geography, Mathematical, Phy-
Medea of Euripides, translated into Eng- sical, Political, and Commercial; being a
lish Prose, from the text of Porson, with perspicuous delineation of the present state
Notes, 8vo. 8s.
of the Globe, with its inhabitants and pro-
DOMESTIC ECONOMY.
ductions; preceded by the History of the
The Family Cyclopædia ; being a Ma- Science; interspersed with statistical and
nual of useful and necessary Knowledge, synoptical tables ; and accompanied with a
alphabetically arranged ; comprising all series of correct coloured maps, a great va-
the recent Inventions, Discoveries, and Im- riety of appropriate views, and numerous
provements, in Domestic Economy, Agri- other engravings, illustrating the manners,
culture, and Chemistry ; the most appro- customs, and costumes of nations ; by
ved Methods of curing Diseases, with the Thomas Myers, A.M. of the Royal Mili.
Mode of Treatment in cases of Drowning, tary Academy, Woolwich; 4to. Part XIV.
other Accidents, and Poisons; Observa. 78.
tions on Diet and Regimen ; a comprehen A System of Universal Geography; by
sive Account of the most striking Objects M. Malte-Brun, 8vo. Part I. &s.
in Natural History, animate and inanimate; A Dissertation, shewing the Identity of
and a Detail of various processes in the the Rivers Niger and Nile, chiefly from the
Arts and Manufactures ; also a concise authority of the ancients ; by John Dud.
View of the Human Mind and the Pas ley, M.D. 8vo. 3s. 6d.
sions, with their particular application to
our improvement in Education and Morals; The New Annual Register for. 1820.
by James Jennings, 8vo. 2 vols. £1, 14s. 8vo. 218.
DRAMA.
The Vampire ; a Tragedy, in Five Acts. The whole Proceedings on the Trial of
La Gazza Ladra ; a semi-serio Opera, an Action brought by Mr H. T. Hodgson,
in Two Acts. 2s. 6d.
against Mr John Walter, for a Libel.
Montalto; a Tragedy, in Five Acts.
EDUCATION.
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The Student's Manual; or an Append. ders of the Liver, and other Organs of Di.
age to the English Dictionaries ; being an gestion, forming the Bilious Complaint ;
Etymological and Explanatory Vocabulary by Joseph Ayre, M.D. 8vo. Bs. Od.
of Words derived from the Greek. In Two Observations on Female Diseases; by
Parts. Part I. Words arranged under dis. C. M. Clarke. Part I. Bvo. £I, 1s.
tinct heads, in order to facilitate a correct A Treatise on the Epidemic Cholera of
knowledge of them. Part II. An alphabe- India; by James Boyle, Ovo. os.
HISTORY.
LAW.
MEDICINE.


1821.3
Monthly List of New Publications.
237
POLITICS.
A Manual of the Diseases of the Au. Fears and Cares: by R. D. Carr, 12mo.
man Eye, intended for Surgeons Commen- 16s. 6d.
cing Practice ; by Dr C. H. Weller of Ber. Ostentation and Liberality; a Tale,
lin; translated from the German, by G. 2 vols. 18mo. 5s.
C. Monteath, M.D. and Illustrated by The Cavalier ; a Romance, 3 vols. 12mo,
Cases and Observations, with four highly £1, 1s.
coloured Plates, representing 37 diseased De Renzey ; or the Man of Sorrow; by
eyes; 8vo. 2 vols. *£1, 10s.
R. N. Kelly, Esq. 3 vols. 12mo. 158.
A Treatise on the Medical Powers of
POETRY.
the Nitro-Muriatic Acid Bath, in various A Song to David ; by the late Christo-
Diseases; by W. Dunlop, Surgeon, 8vo. pher Smart, M.A. 12mo. 3s. 6d.
2s.
Queen Mab; a Philosophical Poem, in
Delineations of the Cutaneous Diseases, nine Cantos, with Notes and Translations ;
comprised in the Classification of the late by Percy Bysshe Shelley, 8vo. 12s. Ed.
Dr Willan, including the greater part of
POLITICAL ECONOMY.
the Engravings of that author in an impro. A Treatise on Political Economy; or
ved state, and completing the series as in. the Production, Distribution, and Con-
tended to have been finished by him ; by sumption of Wealth; by Jean Baptiste Say,
T. Bateman, M.D. F.L.S. 4to. with 70 8vo. 2 vols. £1, 4s.
coloured Plates. £12, 12s.
Mainwaring on the Police of the Metro
The New Engravings to complete De polis, 8vo. 3s. 6d.
Willan's original Work
sold separate, price The Happiness of States ; or an Enqui.
£7.
ry concerning Population, and the Modes
A Toxocological Chart, in which may of Subsisting and Employing it; by $.
be seen at one view the Symptoms, Treat Grey, Esq. Republished with an addi-
ment, and Modes of detecting the various tional Book, and a copious Index ; 4to.
Poisons, Mineral, Vegetable, and Animal, £1, 11s. 6d.
according to the latest experiments and
observations ; by William Stowe, Member T. C. Hansard's Parliamentary Debates,
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The third edition, on two large sheets broad Aphorisms, chiefly Political, selected
folio. ls. 6d.
from the most eminent writers, 18mo. 36.
The Quarterly Journal of Foreign Men 6d.
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of England, illustrated by copious Extracts
The Quarterly Musical Magazine and from the Liturgy, Homilies, &c. &c. con-
Review, Part X.' 58.
firmed by numerous Passages of Scripture;
The Retrospective Review, No. VI. 8vo. by the Rev. W. Wilson, B.D. 8vo. 6s.
bs.
The Christian Religion contrasted with
Annals of Oriental Literature, No. III. Pagan Superstition, 12mo. 8s. 6d.
65.
X Selection of Psalms and Hymns for
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Account of the Shipwreck of the Medu. A Tour through the Southern Provinces
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vol. V. containing Views
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A Tale of the Olden Time; by a Har. loured plates. 16s.
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Journal of a Voyage of Discovery to the
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Hecla and Griper ; by Alexander Fisher,
A Legend of Argyle; 3 vols 12mo. £1, extra Surgeon, R. N. 8vo. 123.
ls.
13
THEOLOGY.
MISCELLANIES.
NOVELS.


238
Monthly List of New Publications.
[May,
EDINBURGH.
Annals of the Parish ; or, the Chronicle The Religious Tradesman and Mer-
of Dalmailing ; during the Ministry of the chant; by Richard Steele, A.M. 12mo,
Rev. Micah Balwhidder ; written by him. 3s. 6d.
self; arranged and edited by the Author of A New Edition of Dewar on Personal
“ The Ayrshire Legatees,” &c. 12mo. 8s. and Family Religion, greatly enlarged ;
Edinburgh Christian Instructor for May, with an extensive variety of Prayers for
No. CXXX.
Families and Individuals, 8vo. 8s. boards.
Edinburgh Monthly Review for June, Transactions of the Royal Society of
No. XXX.
Edinburgh. Vol. IX. Part 1. 4to. boards.
Edinburgh Review, No. LXIX. 6s. ll. 58.
Winter Evening Tales, collected among Extracts from the Diary of the late
the Cottagers in the South of Scotland; Rev. Robert Shireff, Minister of the Asso-
by James Hogg. A new and much im ciate Congregation, Tranent; with brief
proved edition, 2 vols. 12mo. 14s. Notes of his Life, and an Appendix of
New Observations on the Natural His. Papers ; by Mrs Shireff, 12mo. 3s. boards.
tory of Bees ; by Francis Huber. Third Memoirs of the Wernerian Natural His.
edition, greatly enlarged, and illustrated tory Society. Vol. III. with 25 engra-
by fine engravings, 12mo. 9s.
vings. 18s.
Prize Essays, and Transactions of the The Theological Lectures of the late
Highland Society of Scotland ; to which is George Hill, D.D. Principal of St Mary's
prefixed an Account of the principal Pro- College, St Andrews. Edited by the
ceedings of the Society from 1816 to 1820; Rev. Alexander Hill, Dailly, 3 vols. 8vo.
by Henry Mackenzie, Esq. vol. 5th. 15s. These Lectures were left by the Author
Inquiry into the Books of the New Tes in a state fit for the Press, with his latest
tament; by John Cook, D.D. 8vo. 12s. corrections, and the manuscript has been
Sacramental Address and Meditations, faithfully adhered to by the Editor ; so
with a few Sermons interspersed ; by the that this publication contains the fruits of
Rev. Henry Belfrage, vol. 2d, 12mo. the labours of those thirty years during
58. 6d.
which the Author so ably officiated as Pro-
The Cenotaph, a Poem, by James Aik. fessor of Divinity.
man, 12mo. 2s. 6d.
MONTHLY REGISTER.
COMMERCIAL REPORT.-11th May, 1821.
Sugar.—The demand for the superior new sugars continues to be tolerably good, and
the prices to be maintained. The holders, however, anticipate a reduction from the arri.
vals, which henceforward must prove considerable. A short time will determine whe-
ther or not they are right. The price of sugar is now sunk so low, that the planters
everywhere are labouring under the severest distress, and something must be done by
the mother country for their relief. The latter claims a monopoly of all their labour,
and of all their produce and supplies ; and, therefore, a close attention to their interesst
is required from her in return. Whatever injures these colonies must equally injure
the interests of the mother-country. The Administration, it is said, have it at present
contemplation to lay an additional tax upon East India sugars, which may afford
some relief ; but no permanent relief can be expected, unless the foreign slave-trade is
completely and immediately put a stop to. If it is continued much longer, the colonies
of foreign powers will be so filled with slaves, that the quantity of Sugar, and other co-
lonial produce, raised in these places, will be more than sufficient for the supply of all
Europe, upon terms much lower than our colonies can afford it. In foreign colonies,
the cultivator is amply remunerated at 20s. per cwt. The expences of producing it
costs the West India planters as much.
Coffee. The market for coffee may be stated at 2s. higher for all descriptions of
foreign coffee. On the other hand, Jamaica coffee was for some time rather on the
decline ; but the market for it has rather improved towards the close of last week, and
for every description of coffee the demand is considerable, and the market firm.
Cotton.—Notwithstanding the few arrivals of cotton, still the market of late has been
languid, and prices rather on the decline. This is the case with Boweds, in which there
has, nevertheless, been a considerable demand. Other kinds remain without alteration.
The purchases have been considerable, and the demand for twist has been extensive.
The manufacturers are all busy, and the workmen in full employment.
The prices of Cocoa continue exceedingly low and declining. There is little doing in
Spices, except in Pimento, for which the demand is considerable. The market for In.
digo continues firm, and prices may be stated at an advance of 2d. to 3d. per lib. The
purchases of Tobacco have for some time past been inconsiderable, and chiefly confined


1821.)
Register.-Commercial Report.
233
to parcels for home consumption. Rum continues exceedingly low and depressed,
There are few sales of Brandy, and Geneva is without variation. Fine wheats have
rather advanced in price. Every other description is dull. Barley is scarce, and an
advance of ls. has taken place. The demand for oats has been brisk, in consequence of
the limited supply. There has been some inquiry for beef. The price of bacon is
merely nominal; and for Irish butter there is a fair demand. There is a fair demand
for foreign tallow. Hemp has declined in price. In flax there is little alteration. The
other articles of commerce require no particular notice.
The
trade of this country in general may be stated as progressively improving. That
to the East Indies is gradually extending ; and from the Report of the House of Lords
on the Foreign Trade of this country, we are happy to observe, that there is a prospect
of British subjects being admitted to participate in the Tea trade with China, and also
to extend their exertions in different parts of the Eastern world, at present within the
limits of the East India Company's Charter. We also observe, from some recent occur-
rences, that the attention of this country is directed to that immense field for trade, which
the shores of the Persian Gulph, Arabia, the Red Sea, and the east coast of Africa af.
ford. At no distant day we hope to see a still more extensive field for British commerce
laid open in the interior of the African continent.
.
.
.
EDINBURGH.-May 9.
Wheat.
Barley.
Oats. Pease & Beans.
1st,......31s. 6d. Ist, .....20s. Od. Ist.......17s. 6d. 1st.......16s. Od.
2d, ......30s. Od. | 2d, ...... 18s. Od. | 2d,.. . 16s. Od. | 2d,...
...... 15s. Cd.
3d, ......28s. Od. 3d, ...... 16s. Od. | 3d,......14s. Od. | 3d,...
.....14s. Od.
Average of Wheat, £1:9: 8 3-12ths., per boll.
Tuesday, May 8.
Beef (17) oz. per lb.) 0s. 5d. to Os. 7ļd. Quartern Loaf Os. 9d. to Os. Od
Mutton
Os. 6d. to Os. 70. Potatoes (28 lb.) Os. 8d. to Os. Od
Lamb, per quarter
4s. Od. to 6s. Od. Fresh Butter, per lb. ls. 8d. to 0s. Od
Veal
Os. 6d. to Os. 10d. Salt ditto, per stone 20. Od. to Os. Od
Pork
Os. 6d. to Os. 7d. Ditto, per lb.
Is. 4d. to Os. Od
Tallow, per stone 8s. Ed. to 9s. 6d. | Eggs, per dozen Os. Cd. to Os. Od
HADDINGTON.-MAY 4.
Wheat.
Barley.
Oats.
Pease.
Beans.
Ist, .....30s. 6d. 1st, ..... 20s. Od. Ist, .....16s. 6d. Ist, .....155. Od. Ist..... 15s. Od.
2d........ 27s. 6d. | 2d,...... 18s. Od. 2d ....... 158. Od. | 2d,... ..13s. Od. | 2d,...... 13s. Od.
3d,...... 258. Od. 3d,...... 15s. Od. 3d,......13s. Od. | 3d,.....Ils. Od. 3d...... Ils. Od.
Average, £1 : 7s. 9d. 10-12ths.
dverage Prices of Corn in England and Wales, from the Returns received in the Week
ended April 28th.
Wheat, 52s. 5d.-Rye, 34s. 2d.-Barley, 23s. 10d.-Oats, 178. 9d.-Beans, 298. 8d. -Peasc, 30s. 5d.
Beer or Big, Os. Od.-Oatmeal, 198. 5d.
.
•
.
.
s. d.
London, Corn Exchange, May 7.
Liverpool, May 1.
s.
8. d.
Wheat, red, new 36 to 46 Hog pease. 27 to 28 Wheat, per 70 lb. Amer. p. 12 6 lb.
Fine ditto 48 to 52 Maple • 28 to 29! Eng. Old 7 6 to 8 3 Sweet, U.S.- O to -
Superfine ditto 53 to 54 White
30 to 31/Waterford 7 4 to 7 5 Do. in bond 21 0 to 22
Ditto, old. - to - Ditto, boilers. 37 to 40|| Limerick. 7 4 to 7 5 Sour do.. 26 O to 27
White, new 40 to 46 New ditto, .-to-Drogheda 7 0 to 7 5 Oatmeal, per 240 lb.
Fine ditto. 48 to 54 SmallBeans,new30 to 32 Dublin 6 9 to 7 0 English 24 O to 25 0
Superfine ditto 56 to 59 Ditto, old • 28 to 29 Scotchi. 7 6 to 8 0 Scotch .. 0 0 to 23 0
Diito, old. -- to - Tick, new. 22 to 26 Irish Old .7 2 to 7 4 Irish ... 19 0 to 22 0
Foreign, new ,
Ditto, old. -to-Bonded . 4 0 to 5 0Bran, p. 24 lb. 1 0 to 1 1
Rye
26 to 28 Foreign
Barley, per 60 lbs.
Fine ditto,
Feed oats
- to
14 to 18 Eng. 3 8 to 3 10
Butter, Beef, gc.
Barley
20 to 21 Fine
. 19 to 20 Scotch .. 3 2 to 3 6 Butter,p.cwt. s. d.
Fine, new , 23 to 25 Poland ditto 16 to 19|Irish
9 to 0 Belfast, new 95 0 to 98 0
Superfine 26 to 27 Fine. . 20 to 21 Oats, per 15 lb.
Newry 94 0 to 96 0
49 to 52 Potatoe ditto • 20 to 22 Eng. pota. 2
5 to 2 7 Waterford . 88 0 to 90 0
54 to 58 Fine.
23 to 25 Irish do. 2 6 to 2 6 Cork, pic. 2d, 90 O to 96 0
Scotch do. 2 6 to 2 7 3d dry 85 0 to -
Malt per b.
Beef, p. tierce.
Seeds, fc.
- Fine 7 6 to 8 0 Mess 112 6 to 115 0
Beans, per gr.
per brl. 72 0 to 74 0
s. S. d.
s. English .30 0 to 33 0 Pork, p. brl.
Must. Brown, 7 to 10 0 Hempseed 48 to 54 irish
0 to 32 0 Mess 60 0 to
-White ... 6 to 8 0 Linseel, crush. 42 to 50 Rapeseed, p. 1. £82 to 83 Middl. 55 0 to 56 0
Tares, new, . 5 to 6 0 New, for Seed 60 to 63 Pease,greyas 0 to 28 0 Bacon, p. cwt.
Turnips, bsh. 16 to 20 0 Ryegrass, .. 10 to 40-White : 38 0 to $4 0 Short mids. 46 0 to 47 0
Red & green 17 to 20 oClover, red cwt. 22 to 60 Flour, Euglish,
Sides 41 0 to 44 0
-Yellow, 36 to 1901-White ... 42 to 92 p.940lb.fischt 0 10 36 0 Hums, dry, 54 0 to 56 O
Caraway, cwt. 72 to 76 o Coriander .. 12 to 16 irish .. 31 O to 33 6 Green 35 0 to 36 0
Canary, 9r.
46 to 52 0 Trefoil
..7 to 28
Lard,rd.p.e.56 0 to
Rape Seed, per last, .
£38 to £40.
VOL. IX.
2 G
Malt
Fing.
.. 30


240
Register.-Commercial Report.
[May,
LONDON.
36
62
64
67
70
81
89
105
22
24
107
135
120
140
127
ls Od
2s Od
30
1 4
0 0
£20
30
£60
34
PRICES CURRENT May 5.
SUGAR, Musc.
LEITH. GLASGOW. LIVERPOOL.
B. P. Dry Brown, .cwt, 59 to 65 56
61 56
59
Mid. good, and fine mid. 76
86 61
72 60
67
Fine and very fine,
80
86
71
81
Refined Doub. Loaves,
130
115
Powder ditto,
106
110
Single ditto,
102
106
Small Lumps,
94
98
Large ditto, .
91
91
Crushed Lumps,
56
MOLASSES, British, cwt. 26
27 24 24 6 28
COFFEE, Jamaica, • cwt.
Ord. good, and fine ord. 116
124
114
120 108
118
Mid. good, and fine mid. 124 138
121
124 120
128
Dutch Triage and very ord.
95
112
Ord. good, and fine ord.
120
135
114
120
Mid. good, and fine mid. 135
140
121
St Domingo,
122
126
107 110
Pimento (in Bond,) :::
85
83
8
SPIRITS,
Jam. Rum, 16 O. P. gall. 2s 10d 38 Od 2s 2d 2s 3d 2s ld 2s 3d
Brandy,
0 4 6
Geneva,
Grain Whisky,
68 7 0
WINES,
Claret, 1st Growths, hhd. 45
55
Portugal Red, pipe. 35
46
Spanish White,
butt. 34
55
Teneriffe,
pipe. 30
32
Madeira,
55
65
LOGWOOD, Jam.
ion:
7 10 8 0
7 15
8 5
Honduras,
8
8 0 8 10
Campeachy,
8
8 15 95
FUSTIC, Jamaica,
8 6 10 70 6 6 7 0
Cuba,
9
11 8 5 8 10 9 0 95
INDIGO, Caraccas fime, lb. 9s 6d ils 6d
7 6 8 6 8 0 9 0
TIMBER, Amer. Pine, foot. 1 6 1 8
Ditto Oak,
3 0 3 4
Christiansand (dut. paid.) 2
Honduras Mahogany,
1
1 8
2 1 8 1 0 1 4
St Domingo, ditto,
4 3 0 1 3 1 9
TAR, American, brl.
Archangel,
18
PITCH, Foreign, cwt. 10
TALLOW, Rus. Vel. Cand. 50
Home melted,
53
HEMP, Riga Rhine, ton. 44
Petersburgh, Clean,
39
10
FLAX,
Riga Thies. & Druj. Rak. 55
Dutch,
50
90
Irish,
41
46
MATS, Archangel, 100.
75
80
BRISTLES,
Petersburgh Firsts, cwt. 13 10 14
ASHES, Peters. Pearl,
40
Montreal, ditto,
41
46
45
Pot,
57
38 36
OJL, Whale,
tun.
£24
25
Cod.
81s (p. brl.) 21 22
TOBACCO, Virgin. fine, lb. 65
54 0 8
Middling,
6
40
Inferior,
0 2 0 3
COTTONS, Bowed Georg.
0 93
9 0 101
Sea Island, fine,
1 8 2 0 1 6 19
Good,
1 611 8
3 1 5
Middling,
1 1 6 1 3 15
Demerara and Berbice,
1 0 1 2 0 11 1
West India,
0 10 0 11 09
Pernambuco,
1 1 1
1 03 1 2
Maranham,
10 1 1 10 1 1
la 111111111111a1160010111--|||||||||
---***1911 1111 1119|| 1oolllabollolllll IIII|||
35
40
8s Od 8s 10d
8 5 8 15
8 10 8 11
£6 0 £7 0
8 10 9 15
10 0 10 6
sto consensie | | | |||| ||1911 vell loosball III III III III.1.1998
I|||||18115--1ll. coccarlllll 1110
BE1311118 5311111 111.3******09 |||||19*119 711 198821910-110
16 0
0
£42 10
37 10
38
£56
45
como
los ! 11.IIIIIIlll
40
40
42
49
35
10
06
0 23
0
Cocool lol
--0----0-70 II
0 10
08
1 24
0 111 1
0 104
1 14 1
ALPHABETICAL List of English BANKRUPTCies, announced between the 20th
of March and the 25th of April, 1821, extracted from the London Gazette.
Allsop, T. late of Gloucester, linen draper. Bristow, R. jun. in Lloyd's Coffee-house, and Iver,
Ashcroft, T. Liverpool, timber merchant.
Bucks, insurance broker.
Atkins, W. Chipping Norton, mealman.
Brown, T. Longdon, Stafford, grocer.
Ayton, J. and Saunders, W.Newcastle-upon-Tyne, Buckhouse, G. Kendal, ironmonger.
merchants.
Buckland, J. Newcastle-street, Strand, carpenter,
Ayton, W. Macclesfield, cotton-spinner.
Burbery, J. Coventry, ribbon-manufacturer.
Bagley, G. Pocklington, spirit-merchant.
Burberry, T. Woolston, Warwick, farrier.
Bali, t. Post Ford Plill, Surrey, paper-maker. Carter, J. jun. Liverpool, merchant.
Benzies, A. St Martin's-lane, baker.
Chinn, T. Maidstone, linen-draper.
Berriman, W. Lyneham, Wilts, timber-mer Clarke, J. Worcester, coach-proprietor.
chant.
Clements, R. Coventry, ribbon-manufacturer.
Bigsby, J. Deptford, brewer.
Cape, W. London bridge Foot, grocer.
Bishop, J. Broad-street, Bloomsbury, horse-dealer.
Black band, J. Burslem, Stafford, grocer.
Carter, J. jun. late of Liverpool, merchant.
Cole, J. Linnington, Yorkshire, farmer.
Bonner, T. Monk wearmouth, fitter.
Cope, C. Berkeley Mews, Portman-square, job.
Drandon, W. Kent-street, Borough, builder.
master,


1821.)
Register.-Commercial Report.
241
ner.
(ope, P. Bridgnorth, grocer.
Mathews, J. Coventry, ribbon manufacturer.
Cox, H. Lambeth, timber-inerchant.
Mence, N. Worcester, brewer, and money scrive
Coulson, J. and Leadbitter, E. Gateshead, glass-
Inanufacturers.
Morris, J. Upholland, Lancaster, tanner.
Coupland, C. R. F. & E. Leeds, spirit-merchants Mussie, J. Derby, mercer.
and cotton-spinners.
Mutch, J. Queen Ann-street, Cavendish-square,
Croft, T. late of Chatham, hairdresser.
upholsterer.
Cushon, F. Spitalfields, hat-inanufacturer. Noble, H. and A. Camberwell, wine merchants.
Dewsbury, P. Altringham, Chester, corn-dealer. Ovenden, E. late of Old Boswell-court, jeweller.
Dignam, J. Warnford-street, Throgmorton-street, Palmer, J. Rugeley, Stafford, butcher.
coal-merchant and scrivener.
Palmer, E. T. Bedford, draper.
Dunderdale, G. and R. Leeds, clothiers.
Peet, J. Ashton Within, Mackerfield, Lancaster,
Edwards, J. Vine-street, Spital-fields, silkman. hinge manufacturer.
Ellis, W. Liverpool, white cooper.
Philips, B. Threadneedle-street, vintner.
Farquharson, T. Swansea, merchant.
Pullen, D. Birchin-lane, broker.
Field, T. St John's-street, inn-keeper.
Richardson, G. Mecklenburgh-square, and Vokes,
Ford, J. Gloucester, patent woollen yarn manu T. late of Gloucester-street, Queen-square,
facturer.
merchants.
Carton, J. Hull, lighterman.
Ritchie, R. Deptford, brewer.
Greaves, J. jun. Liverpool, broker.
Riley, T. H. Crawford-street, Mary-le-bone, linen
Gooch, A. Norwich, bombazine-maker.
draper.
Gregory, G. B. Lisson Grove, merchant.
Roberts, R. G. Minories, ironmonger.
Grundon, W. New Malton, merchant.
Seaman, G. Bishopsgate-street, linen (Iraper.
Gunnery, T. Liverpool, dealei.
Sedgewick, M. London, warehouseman.
Harding, J. Great Winchester-street, jeweller. Shrapnell, P. Broadford, Wilts, clothier.
Hart, J. Bath, saddler.
Sloper, J. Bath, baker.
Haynes, W. Stourbridge, currier.
Smith, J. L. late of Vauxhall-walk, coal dealer.
Hellman, A. late of Mincing-lane, merchant. Snape, W. Litchfield, mercer.
Hessledon, W. and W. S. Barton-upon-Humber, Stang. L. late of Fore-street, merchant.
scriveners.
Stanley, H. Jackhouse within, Oswald Twistle,
Hinchliffe, J. now or late of Bradley, Huddersfield, Lancaster, whitster.
wood merchant and lime dealer.
Sumter, J. Charlotte-street, Old-street-road, stone-
Holding, W. Devonshire-street, Queen’s-square, inason.
wine-merchant.
Taylor, J. Sheffield, iron-founder.
Hoyle, R. Newcastle-upon-Tyne, merchant. Traherne, J. St Martin's-street, Leicester Fields,
Jackson, A. Bristol, corn factor.
victualler.
Jeffs, F. Coventry, shop-keeper.
Trinder, W. J. Portsca, victualler.
Jerom, S. Birmingham, victualler.
Trix, F. South Molton, Devon, tanner.
Johnson, J. Leamington, Warwick, druggist. Troughton, B. and J. Wood-street, London, and
Jones, T. Sedgley, iron master.
Overton, Hants, silk throwsters.
Jones, T. P. Carmarthen, linen-draper.
Vaughan, Mary, and Appleton, Catherine, late of
Kennifeck P. late of Tonbridge-place, New Road, Liverpool, straw bonnet manufacturers.
dow of Calais in France, merchant.
Wade, J. S. Aldeburg, Suffolk, brickmaker.
Kennifeck, W. Throgmorton-street, stock-broker, Walker, J. Upper Russell-street, Bermondsey,
Lea, W. and Lea, J. F.of Paternoster-row, ribbon parchment dealer.
and silk manufacturers.
Waln, D. Liverpool, plumber.
Maberley, J. Welbeck-street, coach-manufacturer. Wells, J. Liverpool, merchant.
Macrlonagh, T. Chesterfield, wine merchant. White, T. late of Brinklow, Warwick, innholder.
Macleod, J. Cornhill, boot-maker.
White, J. Lambeth-road, merchant.
Mann, T. Halifax, merchant.
Whittle, S, U. Islington, timber merchant.
Marshall, J. Gainsborough, druggist.
Whittley and Mason, Liverpool.
Mason, J. Liverpool, linea draper.
Wilkinson, J. Great Drifbiela, coal-merchant.
Massey, T. Derby, mercer.
Witchurch, J. Worship-street, coach master.
Masters, J.Upper Berkeley-street, Portman-square, Wright, J. Bermondsey-street, Southwark, provi-
coach-maker.
sion merchant.
ALTUIALETICAL List of Scotch BANKRUPTCIES, announced between the 6th and
28th April, 1821, extracted from the Edinburgh Gazette.
Astley, Joseph,chemical manufacturer,Portobello. Cheyne, Alex., sometime merchant in Leith; a
Bell, David, corn merchant, Dundee.
dividend 15th May.
Collieson, John, merchant and underwriter, Dun Craig, John, the late, senior, leather merchant,
dee.
Glasgow; a final dividend 19th May.
Crawford, Andrew, plaisterer and lime merchant, Elder, David, late merchant, Glasgow ; a final di-
Glasgow.
vidend 29th May.
Currie, Hugh, salt merchant, Saltcoats.
Grahame, Thomas, merchant and manufacturer
Hunter, H. and A, spirit dealers, Glasgow.
in Glasgow; a second dividend 8th June.
M•Intyre, Duncan, merchant in Inverary. Jeffrey, James, and Co. merchants, Edinburgh,
M.Vaih, Donald, merchant, Inverary.
and James Jeffrey, Wm. Jeffrey, and Wm. Aj-
Malcolm, William, cooper and herring merchant, ken, as individuals; a dividend 3d June to the
Greenock.
creditors of J. Jeffrey and Co. of 2s. but no di-
Matthew, John, haberdasher and merchant, Glas vidend from the indivirlual estate.
gow.
Laird, John, and Co. merchants, Greenock: and
Saunders, James, printer and writer, Dundee. Laird, William, and Co. merchants, Liverpool ;
Shade, Thomas, nursery and seedsman, Edinburgh. an equalizing dividend of 3s. per pound.
Sirith, Williain, writer, agent, and trader in Glas Macnab, Archibald, and Co. merchants and com-
gov.
mission agents, Glasgow : a dividend 20th May.
Stevenson, Robert, distiller and grain dealer at Penman, Andrew, bookseller, Glasgow; a second
Easter Mill, parish of Lochwinnoch.
dividend eth June.
Young and Gordon, drapers and merchants, Dun Roxburgh, John and Andrew, carpet manufactu-
dee.
rers, Kilmarnock; a dividend 20 June.
DIVIDENDS.
Scott, Hugh, haberdasher, Greenock; a first divi-
Anderson and Brown, tanners, Glasgow ; a second dend, 8th June.
dividend 220 May.
Smith, James, and Co. booksellers, Peterhead; a
Baird, Alex., merchant, Inverkeithing; a second second dividend, 7th May.
dividend 15th June.
Urquhart, Henry, late perfumer in Edinburgh ; a
Battieman, Jacob, and Co. sugar refiners, Stirling; final dividend, 24th May.
a final dividend 220 May.
Young, John, and Co. merchants and general
Cameron and Woodburn, merchants in Glasgow, agents, Edinburgh; a dividend, loth Nay.
and Kingston, Jamaica ; a second and final di.
idend 16th May.


242
[May,
RegisterCommercial Report.
Weekly Price of Stocks, from 20 to 28th April, 1821
2d.
16th.
28th.
:-)_9th.
713
E
883
=
49 pr.
46 pr.
45 pr.
47 pr.
3 pt.
Bank stock,ecco
222 2224 2233
3 per cent. reducedirano
1
1711
3 per cent. consols,...
72 & 721 713 72 721
3 per cent. consols,...
803 80
4 per cent. consols,
891
5 per cent. navy ann......
107 107
1075
8
Imperial 3 per cent. ann...........
India stock, sonra
2203
230
bonds.com
Exchequier bilis, corro......
pr.
5
pr.
6
pr.
Consols for acc. monorar
723
723 721 723
Amer. 3 per cent....ason....
701 70, 70%
French 5 per cents.....
82fr. 25c. 1 82fr. 20c. 82fr. 25c.
Course of Exchange, May 8.-Amsterdam, 12:14. C. F. Ditto at sight, 12: 11.
Rotterdam, 12 : 15. Antwerp, 12: 10. Hamburgh, 38: 7. Altona, 38 : 8. Paris, 3
d. sight, 25 : 80. Ditto 26: 15. Bourdeaux, 26 : 15. Frankfort on the Maine, 1564.
Petersburgh, 9}:3 U. Vienna, 10:20 Eff. flo. Trieste, 10 : 20 Ef. fo. Madrid, 36.
Cadiz, 36. Bilboa, 35%. Barcelona, 35. Seville, 35ļ. Gibraltar, 30%. Leghorn,
47. Genoa, 44. Venice, 27 : 60. Malta, 45. Naples, 391. Palermo, llb.
Lis-
bon, 50. Oporto, 50. Rio Janeiro, 48. Bahia, 56. Dublin, 91 per cent.
Cork, 8 per cent.
Prices of Gold and Silver, per 03.-Foreign gold, in bars, £3 : 17 : 101d. New
Dollars, 4s. 10d. Silver in bars, stand. 4s. Ild.
METEQROLOGICAL Table, extracted from the Rrgister kept at Edinburgh, in the
Observatory, Culton-hill.
N.B.-The Observations are made twice every day, at nine o'clock, forenoon, and four o'clock, after.
noon.--The second Observation in the afternoon, in the first column, is taken by the Register
Thermoineter.
Attach,
Ther. Barom. Ther.
Wind.
Attach.
Ther. Barom. Ther. Wind.
ap. 169. 1.
171.47
3
18{
19{
M.28 29.142 M.46 Dull, with
April 1s
s.w.
.128 A. 44 )
A. 10
hail.
M.31 28.658 M.44)
2
A. 44
Cble. Ditto.
.CSS A. 15
M.282 .435 M.46
Cble.
Dull, with
.1. 15 .730 A. 43 ) sleet.
Very cold,
N.W.
A.13 .998 A. 45
with Hail.
M.30 29.376 M.45)
5
N.
Ditto.
.371. 45
-1.25 .707 M.42
6
Frost morn.
Cble.
A. 59 .505 A. 42 ) rain aftern.
M.32 .605 M.50) Dull, but
N.W.
7
.603 A. 51
fair.
.741 M.54
N.W. Ditto.
.740 A. 53)
M.41
.536 M.52
A. 51
N.W. Ditto.
.507 A. 51
M.36 .508 M.53
W.
Fair foren.
A. 50 .353 4. 5.3 )
rain aftern.
.145 M.52
Cble.
Dull, but
.1. 19 28.991 A. 50
fair.
M.30
19
.880 M.50
Cold, rain
Cble.
.762 A. 46) afterp.
14.29 .870 M.19
Cble.
.991 A. 48 rainy night.
(1.31 29.102 M.50
Cble.
Cold,
1. 16 28.98 A. 13 )
rain aftern.
13
(M.23 .881 M.13
Cole.
Snow and
1. 39 .3731. 17) Thail showers!
1.40)
87A.51
23 M.32
M.:8 28.890 M.47 Fair, but
Cble.
.998 A. 16
cold.
M.31 29.175 M.18)
.250 A. 19
Cble. Ditta
M.29 .2.50 M.19
Dull, with
Cble.
A. 16
.306 A, 49
hai).
M.30 ...10 1.30
Rain morn.
S,
A. 49 28.975 A. 50 frir day:
M.35 29.186 M.52
20
W.
Fair, with
.1. 49
.592 4.53 ) sunshine.
M.3
.655 M.48
Rain. morn.
1. 40 .788 A. 48 ) fair aftern.
M.38 .785 M.51
22
Mild, with
A. 47
.C19 A.51 s
sunshine.
,486 M.18
Dull and
Chle.
A. 45
.2014. 18
leold.
243 M.553 28.985 M.191 Rain foren,
Cblc.
A. 46 29.218 4. 52
fair aftern.
SM.56
.443 M.51
Warm fortn.
Cble.
A. 50
.476 4.58
dull aftern.
.569 M.56
M.384
26
Chle.
Mild, rather
A.54
.575 A.35) dull.
SM.58
.544 M.333
97
E.
Foggy, but
.513 A. 5.)
fair.
M.38 .525 M.32
Cble.
Fog. foren.
A. 48 .583 1.56
clear aftern.
M.42 .795 M.561 Foren. fair,
29
E.
A. 54 .. 29.1.56
aftern. rain.
M.38
30
.987 M.57
Fair, with
13.50 .8561A. 36 ) sunshine.
9
102
25
11.55
fair day:
28
Average of Rain, 2.601 inchos.


1821.]
243
Appointments, Promotions, Sc.
12th Apr.
do.
12th Apr.
do.
do.
APPOINTMENTS, PROMOTIONS, &c.
7 Dr. G. General W. Loftus, to be Colonel, vice
Sir C. Crawfurd, dead 20 Apr. 1821
Garrisons.
4 Dr. Surg. O'Donel, from 10 F. vice Surg.
Wylde, h. p. 7 Vet. Bat. 12th do.
Lieut. Gen. Ja. Ilay, Lt. Gov. of Tyne-
19 W. H. L. Brooke, Cornet, by purch.
mouth and Cliff Fort, vice Sir C. Crau.
vice Clagett, ret.
22d Mar.
furd, dead
20 Apr. 1821
Lord A. Conyngham, Cornet do. vice
Lord Conyngham cancelled
Royal Military Asylum.
21st Sept. 1820
2 F. Capt. Gordon, Major, vice Thisleth-
Ens. Fair, from 7 Vet. Bat. Qua. Mast.
wayte, dead,
22d Mar.
vice Hill, h. Po 5th Apr. 1821
Lieut. Kell, Capt.
do.
Ensign Wyse, Lieut.
do.
Staff
W. Congreve, Ensign.
do.
10 Surg. Young, from 7 Vet. Bat. Surg.
Bt Maj. M'Ra, Dep. Qua. Mast, Gen.
vice O'Donel, 4 Dr.
12th Apr
in the East Indies, with rank of Lieut.
Ens. Worsley, from 5 Vet. Bat. Qu. Mr.
Col. in the army, vice Stanhope, res.
vice Edwards, h. p. Bourb. R.
29th Mar. 1821
29th Mar.
Lt. Col. Torrens, 65 F. Dep. Qua. Mast.
Newenham, Lieut. vice Brannan
Gen. in the East Indies, vice M Ra
dead
9th Aug. 1820
12th do.
J. Watson, Ensign 22d Mar. 1821
Lt. & Adj. Nicholson, of Army Depot,
15
As. Surg. Badenach, from 59 F. Surg.
Isle of Wight, to have the Rank of
vice Davy, Staff
29th do.
Capt.
15th do.
18
N. R. Tomlinson, Ens. by purch. vice
Birch, ret.
22d do.
Medical Department.
20 Ensign Wood, Lieut. vice Cheek, dead
Bt. Insp. E. Tegart, Insp. of Hospitals
R. B. Martin, Ensign
in the West Indies only
28 Lieut. Hilljard, from h. p. 43 F. Paym.
25th Mar. 1821
vice Tomlinson, dead 22d Mar.
Staff Surg. Arthur, Physician to the For.
31 Gent. Cadet W. S. Moorlom, from R.
ces, vice Taylor, dead 29th do.
Mil. Coll. Ens. by purch. vice Jeffries,
Surg. Davy, from 15 F. Surg. to the For-
ret.
do.
ces
do.
37 Qua. Mast. Holmes, from h. p. 20 Dr.
Hosp. As. W. Birrell, As. Surg. to the
Qua. Mast. vice Fox, h. p. 99 F.
Forces, vice Cavehill, dead 5th Apr.
Dochard,
do. do.
38 Capt. Dely, from 1 Ceyl. R. Capt. vicc
vice Davy, from 15 F. 12th do.
Daniell, 75 F.
5th do,
Assist. Surg. Thomson, from 38 F. Apo-
Hosp. As. W. H. Burrell, As. Surg. vice
thecary to the Forces, vice Leeson,
Thomson, pro. Staft.
12th do.
dead
10 Lieut. Garner, Capt. by pur. vice Phil.
C. Hughes, Hosp. Assist. to the Forces,
lips, ret.
22d Mar.
Ist Mar.
vice Conway, lead
do.
Ensign Clarke, Lieut. do.
C. Pargeter, do.
vice Birrell,
do.
R. Floyer, Ensign
do.
do.
prom.
16
Ensign Duke, Lieut. vice Wilson, dead
Hosp. Assist. M‘Dermott, from h. p.
28th July, 1820
Hosp. Assist. to the Forces, více Bur-
N. R. Brown
22d Mar. 1821
rell, 38 F.
12th do.
-Bruce, do. do.
Assist. Surg. Millar, from 55 F. Surg.
vice Dockhard
do
vice Ridsdiale, dead
12th Apr.
18 Lieut. Atkinson, from h. p. 12 F. Lieut.
Ordnancc Department.
vice Thomson, 9 Vet. Bat. 9 Mar.
Ens. & Adj. Wild, rank of Lieut. do.
2d Lieut. Fennell, from Rifle Brigade,
Roy. Art. Bt. Lieut. Col. Bull, Major of Brigade
in Ireland
27th Feb. 1821
Lieut. vice Wilson, dead
do.
Assist. Surg. Greig, froin h. p. 22 Dr.
Bt. Maj. Bates, from h, p. Capt. 20 Apr:
1st Lieut. Gapper, 2 Capt.
.
Assist. Surg. vice Millar, 47 F.
-Jago, from h. p. 1st Lieut.
Ist do.
55 Capt. White, from h. p. 14 F. Capt. vice
-Palmer, do. do. 2d do.
Morris, h. p. 11 F.
Sth Mar.
2d Lieut. Stokes,
do. do. do.
59 Supern. A sist. Surg. Sievwright, from
- Bigge, do. 2d Lieut. do.
Staff As. Surg. vice Badenach, 15 F.
Roy. Eng. Bt. Lt. Col. Ellicombe, Major of Brig.
29th do.
vice Handfield, dead. 9th Jan.
67 Lieut. Keir, from h. p. 22 Dr. Lieut.
Lieut. Col. Gossett, from h. p. Lt. Col.
vice Eliot, res. 17th July, 1820
do,
69 Bt. Col. Bruce, from h. p. 39 F. Lieut.
Capt. Jones, from h. p. Capt.
Col. vice Douespe, dead
18th Nov. 1820
29th Mar. 1321
1st Lieut. Eliot, 2d Capt.
73 Capt. Daniell, from 38 F. Capt, vice
-Dalton, from h. p. 1st Lt.
Antell, h. p. New Brunsw. Fenc.
do.
5th Apr. do.
2d Lieut. Fraser, from h. p. 2d Lieut.
76
Surg. Flannegan, from 9 Vet. Bn. Surg.
do.
vice Halpin, h. p. 9 Vet. Bn. 19th do.
-Lagden, Ist Lieut. do.
78 Ens. Munro, Lieut. vice M'Queen, dead
1st Lieut. Maison, 2d Capt.
29th Mar.
9th Jan. 1821
A Montressor, Ensign
do.
-Burt, from h. p. Ist Lt do.
93 Ens. Macbean, Lieut. vice M‘Donnell,
2d Lieut. Bordes, 1st Lieut. do.
dead
N. S. Christie, Ensign
-Walpole, from h. p. 2d Lt.
do,
do.
Rifle Brig. H. Clinton, 2d Lieut. vice Fennell, 53 F.
220 Mar.
Exchanges.
1W. I. R. J. H. Pickering, Ensign, vice Ford, dead
do, Lieut. Col. Pelly, from 16 Dr. with Lieut. Col. El-
1 Ceyl. R. Capt. Cooper, from h. p. New Brunsw. phinstone, 35 F.
Fenc. Capt. vice Dely, 38 F. 5th Apr. Bt. Lt. Col. Grant, from 56 F. with Major Monta-
Colonial
gue, 82 F.
Comp. at 2d Lieut. Campbell, 1st Licut.
Bt. Major Wood, from 4 Dr. rec. diff. between full
the Mau-
29th Mar. pay (av. and full pay Inf. with Capt. Barlow,
ritius
h. p. *? Dr.
5th Apr.
do.
12th Apr
do.
5th Apr,


244
Appointments and Promotions, Sc.
[May,
Bt. Major Obyns, from 20 F. with Capt. Harrison,
h. p. 33 F.
Rcinstated.
Mackay, from 68 F. with Capt. Hewett, Lieutenant Machell, 18 Dr.
h. p. 60. F.
Capt. Vernon, from 18 Dr. rec. differ, between full
Deaths.
pay troop, and full pay company, with Captain
Brett, h. p. 10 Dr.
Gen. H. Earl of Carhampton, M. P. 6 Dr. G. Lon-
don,
25th April, 1821.
Evelyn, from 3F.G. with Capt. Des Voeux,
Colonel Broughton, R. Mar. Florence,
h. p. 60 F.
2d March, 1821.
Jones, from 37 F. with Capt. Stainton, h.p.
Lieut. Col. E. V. Eyre, h. p. Independ. Boulonge,
York Chas.
7th Feb. 1821.
Lieut. Bayley, from 2 Dr. G. with Lieut. Cuff, h. p. Major Fitzmayer, Roy. Art. Limerick,
23 Dr.
21st March, 1821.
Christie, from 91 F. rec. diff. with Lt. Cald.
C. James, of late R. Art. Driv. London,
well, h. p. 2 W. I. R.
14th April.
Kennerly, from 23 F. with Lt. Keith, 89 F.
Douglas, late Scotch Brigade, Bothwell
De Lapasture, from 38 F. rec. dift. with
Bank, near Hamilton,
16th do.
Lieut. Huston, b. p. 67 F.
Foljarnbe, h. p. 8 F. Retford, 1st do.
Tittle, from 38 F. rec. diff. with Lt. Sparkes,
h. p. R. African Corps.
Hirtz, half-pay Dillon's Regt. France,
4th Feb.
Tudor, from 65°F. rec. diff. with Lt. Bea-
Breymann, h. p. 8 Line Germ. Leg. Sesper-
van, h. p. 57 F.
hude in Lunenburg,
24th Jan.
Yates, from 72 F. with Lt. Markham, Cape
Otto, h. p. 1 Huss. Germ. Leg. Hanover,
Corps.
1th March.
Gabb. from 77 F. rec. diff. with Lt. Cosby, Capt, Thurlow, 16 F. at sea, 8th April, 1821.
h. p. 3 F. G.
- Barry, 56 F.on passage from the Mauritius,
Cornet Bruce, from 4 Dr. with 2d Lt. St Quintin,
6th March.
21 F.
Falconer, h. p. 2 Dr. Woodcot, Haddington,
Ensign M‘Dermott, from 11 F. with Ensign De-
15th Sept. 1820.
rinzy, h. p. 12 F.
Fallon, h. p. 87 F. Ireland, 47th Jan. 1821.
Knox, from 33 F. with Ens.Cameron, h. p.
Kettler, h. p. 6 Line Germ. Leg. Verden,
C6 F.
21st Feb.
Daly, from 33 F. with Ensign Riddel, h. p. Lieut. Johnson, 5 F. Antigua.
96 F.
Maclean, from 91 F. with Ensign Bunbury,
Cheek, 20 F. Isle of Wight, 9th Apr. 1821.
Campbell, 73 F. Ceylon.
h. p. 88 F.
M'Queen, 78 F.
220 March, 1821.
Der. Inspec. of Hosp. Porteous, with Dep. Inspec.
Macdonnell, 93 F.
Erly, h. p.
Macfarlane, 7 R. Vet. Bn. Kennington,
Staff. Surg. Thomson, with Staft Surg. Arthur,
22d Feb. 1821.
h. p.
Willock, R. Art. Woolwich, 6th April.
Assist. Surg. Spry, from 2 W. I. R. with As. Surg.
Palmer, h. p. 53 F.
Jan.
Kelly, h. p. i W. I. R.
Fraser, h. p. 86 F. Rypoor, East Indies,
Dep. Purveyor Bradford, with Dep. Purv. Pratt,
19th April, 1820.
2d Lieut. Williams, h. p. 3 Ceylon Regt. Newport
near Barnstable,
11th Nov. 1820,
Resignations and Retirements.
Du Moulin, h. p. Watteville's Regt. Paris,
Capt. Phillips, 40 F.
ilth Dec.
Cancellor, Roy. East Ind. Vol.
Paym. Armstrong, h. p. 38 F. Ireland,
Lieut. Eliot, 67 F.
1st April, 1821.
Kiddell, Roy. East Ind. Vol.
Adj. Henning, East and West Lothian Fenc. Cav.
Cornet. Clagett, 19 Dr.
Haddington,
20th March, 18.1.
Ensign Birch, 18 F.
Qr. Mast. Finan, h.p. Newfoundland Fen. Lough-
Jettries, 31 F.
brckland, Ireland,
21st Feb. 1821.
Thornton, Roy. East Ind. Vol.
Muller, h. p. 2 Huss. Ger. Leg. Harbug.
22d Dec. 1820.
App vintments Cancclled.
Surgeon. Ridsdale, 17 F.
Brevet Major De Havilland, 55 E.
Hosp. As. Moon, Jamaica.
Capt. Hay, 8 F.
Wilkins,
10th March, 1821.
White, 81 F.
Chaplain. Meyer, h. p. Ger. Leg. Auleben.
Coruet Lord F. Conyngham, 22 Dr.
5th Nov. 1820.
h. P,
a son,
BIRTHS, MARRIAGES, AND DEATHS.
BIRTHS.
13. The lady of C. Lenox Cumming Bruce, of
Aug. 1820. At Calcutta, Mrs Thomas Dingwall Roseisle and Kinnaird, of a daughter.
Fordyce, of a son
14. At Kilgraston-house, the hon. Mrs Grant, of
Oct. 31. At Madras, the lady of David Hill, a daughter.
Esq. of a son.
At Touch House, the lady of R. Macdonald,
March 29. 1821. At Carriden Manse, Mrs Fle Esq. of Staffa, of a daughter.
ming, of a son.
Mrs Milner of Nunmonkton, near York, of
April 2. Mrs William Maxwell Little, Union
Street, of a daughter.
16. At 7, Great King Street, Mrs Heriot, of a
4. Mrs Hood of Stoneridge, of a son.
daughter.
5. At Edinburgh, the lady of Captain James 18. Mrs Patrick Robertson, Howe Street, of a
Haldane Tait, royal navy, of a daughter.
daughter.
7. At t6, Great King Street, Mrs James Lang, Mrs Thomas Hamilton, Howard Place, of a
of a daughter.
daughter.
10. Ai Newbattle Manse, Mrs Thomson, of a 19. At Duddingston Manse, Mrs Thomson of a
daughter.
11. At Ruchlaw-house, Mrs Hawthorn, of a 21. In Burton Crescent, London, the lady of
daughter.
Sir James C. Anderson, Bart. of a daughter.
- At Balbegno Castle, the lady of Captain Ram 2. Mrs Robinson, No. 70, Queen Street, of a
my, of a son.
12. At Haddington, Mrs Welsh, of a son.
- At Edinburgh, Mrs Walter Cook of a daugh-
13. At Freeland-house, Perthshire, the hon. ter.
Mis Hore, of a son.
13. At Erlinburgh, Mrs Matheson, Bellvue Cres-
- Mrs Wylie, 1, Charlotte Street, of a daugh cent, of a son.
- At 25, Abercromby Place, Lady Macdonald
Mrs Cleghorn, Dundas Street, of a daughter. Luckhart, of a daughter
son.
bon.
12


1821.]
Register.-Marriages and Deaths.
245
%. At Nelson Street, Edinburgh, Mrs George 27. At Leith, Mr Nicholas Whitehead, to Miss
Hogarth, of a son.
Elizabeth Kirk, daughter of the late Mr James
- At St David's Street, Edinburgh, Mrs John Kirk, teacher there, formerly of Hawick.
Bruce of a daughter.
30. At Edinburgh, Mr Henry Armstrong, to
- At Houston, Mrs Shairp, of a daughter. Miss Graham, 48, Frederick Street.
27. At Nelson Street, Mrs Dalrymple, of a son. - At Hawthornbank, the Rev. James Traill,
minister of the Episcopal church, Haddington, to
MARRIAGES.
Margaret, eldest daughter of Robert Veitch, Esq.
Sept. 13, 1829. At St John's Church, Trichino of Hawthornbank.
poly, Archibald Ewart, Esq. of the Madras medi Lately. At Edinburgh, Mr Charles James Fle-
cal service, to Susannah Petronella, daughter of ming of Bewdley, Worcestershire, to Sarah, only
the late Arnold Lunel, Esq. formerly chief secre child of Mr Johú Baxter, South Bridge.
tary to the Dutch government at Cochin.
Feb. 14, 1821. At St Botolph's Church, Al
DEATHS.
gate Street, London, Mr George Webster, mer Oct. 22. 1820. At Esseer Ghier, Major Gilbert
chant in Dundee, to Sarah, youngest danghter of Grierson Maitland, of the European infantry of
the late Mr Benjamin Kiddell, of the Chancery the Madras establishmeot, only remaining son of
Office, Bank of England.
the late Pellram Maitland, Esq.
-6. At Florence, in the house of his Excellency Nov. — At China, the Hon. Valentine Gardner,
Lord Burghersh, Viscount Tullamore, only son of captain of his Majesty's ship Dauntless.
the Earl of Charleville, to Miss Beaujolis Camp 17. At his station on the south banks of the
bell, third daughter of the late Colonel Campbell Narbudda, in Bengal, Alexander Dick Lindsay,
of Shawfield, and niece to the Duke of Argyll. Esq. of the civil service of the Hon. East India
March 4. At the Palace of Canino, near Rome, Company, second son of the Hon. Robert Lindsay
(the residence of Lucien Bonaparte,) T. Wyse,
of Balearres.
Esq. jun. eldest son of T. Wyse, Esq. of the Ma Jan. 20. 1821. At Davis's Cove, Jamaica, Ri-
nor of St John, near Waterford, Ireland, to Letitia, chard Dickson, Esq.
daughter of Lucien Bonaparte, Prince of Canino. Feb. 6. At Jamaica, James Fraser, son of Mr
20. At Guernsey, Fitzhubert Macqueen, Esq. to Fraser, St James' Square, the third son he has lost
Mary Christiana, relict of Captain James Dalrym in that island since May last.
ple, and third daughter of Sir Jaines Nasmyth, - At Demerara, Mr Robert Thomson, surgeon,
Bart. of New Posso.
second son of Mr Thomas Thomson, late town-
29. At Stockton-upon-Tees, Gilbert Munro, clerk, Musselburgh.
Esq. of Brighton, Island of St Vincent, and of Al 7. At Quebec, Mrs Ker, wife of James Kerr,
bertarle Street, London, to Rachel Sophia, daugh- Esq. judge of the Court of King's Bench, Vice Ad-
ter of the late Jonathan Anderson Ludford, M. D. miralty, &c. &c. province of Lower Canada.
of Warwick, &c. Island of Jamaica.
24. At Madeira, Thomas Litt, Esq. of Glasgow.
- At Aberdeen, Mr William Lowe, merchant, Mar. 2. On his passage home, James Carnegy,
to Annabella, youngest daughter of the late Cap- Esq. late merchant in Malacca, and third son of
tain John Leith, of Barrack, Aberdeenshire. the late Patrick Carnegy, Esq. of Lower.
April 5, At Cirencester, the Earl of Dartmouth, 3. At Madeira, Captain John Murray, R. N.
to Lady Frances Charlotte Chetwynd Talbot, eld second son of the late William Murray, Esq. of
est daughter of his Excellency Earl Talbot, Lord
Polmaise.
Lieutenant of Ireland.
10. At Orleans, Captain Coll M'Dougall, late of
- At Lockerby-house, his Excellency Colonel the 12d regiment.
Maxwell, C. B. Captain-General and Governor of 17. At Boulogne-sur-Mer, Duncan Monro, Esq.
the island of St Christopher's, &c. &c. to Miss
of Culcairn.
Douglas, only daughter of Lieutenant-Colonel 18. At Quebec, Benjamin Joseph Frobisher,
Douglas of Green Croft.
Esq. Provincial Lieutenant-Colonel, and Aide-de-
& At Dublin, Captain Francis Stupart, of the Camp to his Excellency the Earl of Dalhousie,
Royal North British Dragoons (Scots Greys,) to Governor-General of the Canadas.
Anne, daughter of John Jameson, Esq. Alloa. 19. At Tangwick, in Shetland, James Cheyne,
9. At Niddrie, William Mackenzie, Esq. Writer Esq. aged 84.
to the Signet, to Alice, eldest daughter of Andrew 23. At Rome, after a lingering illness, Mr John
Wauchope, Esq. of Niddrie Marischall
.
Keats, the poet, aged 25.
- At Alloa, Mr George Young, merchant, 24. At Clifton Wood, near Bristol, in the 20th
Leith, to Catherine, second daughter of Archibald year of his age, William Heaven Esq. only son of
Hill Rennie, Esq. of Baleleisk.
ihe late Robert Heaven, Esq. of Burdwan, in Ben-
11. At St George's Church, Hanover Square, the gal.
reverend William Pegus, to the Countess of Lind At Cairnie, Fifeshire, Mrs Dalyell of Lingo.
sey, widow of the late, and mother of the present 25. At Paisley, the Rev. Dr John Findlay, of
Earl of Lindsey.
the High Church, Paisley, in the 41st year of his
16. At Edinburgh, Adam Ferguson, Esq. late ministry. During the course of a long, an active,
of the 55th regiment of foot, to Mrs Margaret and an useful life, he was eminently distinguished
Stewart, daughter of the late John Stewart, Esq. by his personal religion--by eminent natural ta-
of Stenton, and widow of George Lyon, Esq. oflents, which were well cultivated and improved
Buckletabury, London.
and by the conscientious fidelity, diligence, and
21. Maxwell Gordon, Esq. to Jane, youngest exactness, with which he discharged all his official
daughter of David Steuart, Esq. of Steuarthali
. and relative duties.
23. At Kirkałdy, Mr James Tait, postmaster of 26. At Crofthall, near Glasgow, Miss_Melen
Windygates, to Christian, second daughter of Mr Pasley, aged 22, daughter of the late John Pasley,
William Meldrum, head inn there.
Esq. of Edinburgh.
23. At St George's church, Hanover Square, Suddenly, at Ranby Hall, near Retford, Ge-
London, the Earl of Aytesford, to Lady Augusta neral Crawford, by whose death the Dowager
Sophia Greville, sister to the Earl of Warwick. Duchess of Newcastle becomes again a widow.
24. At Camphill, James Monteith, Esq. to Mar - At Merstham-house, Surrey, the Right Ho-
garet, eldest daughter of Robert Thoinson, Esq. nourable Lady Ann Simpson, relíct of John Simp-
of Camphill.
son, Esq. of Brandley-Hall, Durham.
25. At St George's church, Everton, Liverpool, 27. At Shacklewell, of a decline, in the 26th
the Rev. Joseph Evans Beaumont, of Haddington, year of her age, Miss Jane Menzies, only daughter
to Susannah, second daughter of John Morton, of the late Mr Archibald Menzies, of Edinburgh.
Esq. of Liverpool, surgeon, late of the Royal Ar. At Edinburgh, aged 25, Mr William Masson,
tillery, and sister to Mrs Dr Morrison of Canton. writer.
27. At Pitfour, James Hay, Esq. of Seggieden, - At his house, in Frederick Street, Lieute-
to Miss Christian Craigie Stewart, daughter of the nant-Colonel Thomas Inglis.
deceased James Stewart, Esq. of Urrard.
- At Woolwich, Davidona Frances Stuart,
- At the Manse of Dumblane, the Rev. Tho youngest daughter of Major John Sutherland Sin-
mas Dimma, minister of the parish of Queenster- clair, Royal Artillery.
ry, to Miss Laura Grierson.
31. At Edinburgh, Mrs Joanna Pringle, reliet
- At Edinburgh, Mr John Leslie Macintosh, of Alexander Hay, Esq. late of Mornington.
to Margaret, eldest daughter of Mr William Drys - At Loanside, Andrew Stein, Esq.
dale, Lothian Street.
Suddenly, in Stratford Place, London, Mrs


246
Register.Deaths.
[May,
Elliston, wife of Mr Elliston, of Drury Lane
- At Charleton, after a Ingering illness, which
Theatre. She retired to rest, at her usual hour, she bore with the utmost fortitude, Mrs Susan
In better apparent health than she had enjoyed for Scott, relict of the late George Carnegie, Esq.
some time past. She had not been in bed long, of Pitarrow, in the 78th year of her age. In an.
when she was attacked by an hysteric affection, to nouncing the death of this lady, we announce the
which, during the last two years, she had been sub death of one who will be long and most justly re-
ject, and in ten minutes she expired.
membered in Montrose and its neighbourhood.
April 1. At Edinburgh, Grace Euphemia, young To befriend the widow and the fatherless, to feed
est daughter of the late Mr John Fraser, Rhives, the hungry, and to clothe the naked, to assist the
Sutherlandshire.
honest and the industrious in time of need, and to
- At Brighton, Sir Charles Edmonstone, of shield, by the utmost extent of her influence, the
Duntreath, Bart. M. P. for the county of Stir weak and unprotected, cver yielded her the high-
ling.
est gratification.
2. Mr John Little, merchant, Lawnmarket.
13. At Hawick, Mrs Brown, of the Tower Inn,
3. At Carlton, Nottinghainshire, aged 92, Mrs there.
Mary Needham, relict of Mr Robert Needham, of 17. At Sloane Street, London, Lieutenant-Colonel
that place.
George Smith, of the Hon. East India Company's
– At Drimnin-House, Argyllshire, John Mac-
service, aged 8.3.
lean, Esq, of Boreray.
19. At Edinburgh, Stuart, infant son of Mr Ro.
At London, Charlotte, second daughter of bert Watson, 14, Pitt Street,
the Right Hon. Sir James Mansfield, Kni.
21. At George's Square, aged 96, Mrs Violet
- At Gilmour Place, Christian Fordyce, eldest Pringle, daughter of the late Lord Haining, and
daughter of Lieutenant David Robertson, Royal sister of the late Lord Alemore, both Senators of
Marines.
the College of Justice.
- At No.8, Queen Street, Torquil, second son - At Edinburgh, in his 19th year, John, the
of J. N. Macleod of Macleod, Esq.
eldest son of William M'Call, Esq. of Maiden Hill,
4. At Stratyrum, Fifeshire, Mr John Falconer,
Cumberland.
a corresponding member of the Caledonian Horti.
22. At George's Square, Edinburgh, Margaret
cultural society, and next upon the list of that in-
Julia, youngest daughter of John Smith, Esq.
stitution for obtaining the medal for long service, writer to the signet.
having been gardener to the present proprietor for 23. At Prestonpans, Francis Buchan Sydserf,
38 years. This is the first death that has happen- Esq. collector of the customs there.
ed at Stratyrum in the course of nearly thirty-nine - At Kilgraston House, the Hon. Mrs Grant of
years, the family consisting of ten persons, besides Kilgraston.
kve servants, in the farm and garden, with their
91. At Edinburgh, in his 13th year, Robert, el-
families, in which there have been fifteen children,
dest son of Mr Robert Laidlaw, Simon's Square.
thirteen of whom have arrived at the age of majo 25. In the 78th year of his age, the Earl of Car-
rity.
hampton. This venerable nobleman was distin-
3. At Raeburn Place, Edinburgh, George, third guished in early life as Colonel Luttrell. He fought
son of Captain Williamson.
some political battles, and was the opponent of the
- At Gallanach, in Argyllshire, John Macdou-
celebrated Mr Wilkes, in the memorable contest
gall, Esq. surgeon in the Hon. East India Compa- for the county of Middlesex, when the latter was
ny's service, son of the late Patrick Macdougall, expelled the llouse of Commons by a vote of the
Esq. of Gallanach.
house. He was brother to the beautiful Miss Lut.
6. At Mount-Stuart, the Most Noble Robert
trell, the late Duchess of Cumberland. His Lord-
Marquis of Londonderry; and on the 9th, in obe ship succeeded to his titles on the
death of his fa-
dience to his Lordship's own express desire, his re-
ther, in 1787. He has left no issue, and is there-
mains were interred, privately, in the family vault fore succeeded by his brother. The late Earl was
at Newtonards. His Lordship was twice married
colonel of the 6th dragoon guards. He stood third
-first to Lady Sarah Frances, sister to the Mar. on the list of Generals-those preceding hinn being
quis of Hertford, by whom he had issue, Viscount
the Marquis of Drogheda and Earl Harcourt.
Castlereagh, (who succeeds to the marquisate,):
26. At Ambleside, Westmoreland, on his way to
and, secondly, to Lady Frances, sister to the Mar-
Matlock for the recovery of his health, David
quis of Cambden, by whom he had issue, Lord
Erskine Dewar, Esq. of Gilston House, in the
Stewart, (the present British ambassador to the
county of Fife, eldest son of the late Major-Gene-
Court of Vienna,) and other children.
ral Dewar of that place.
- At Dalkeith, Mr John Dalziel, son of the
28. At Edinburgh, Mrs Euphemia Clark, spouse
late Alexander Dalziel, Esq. of Skedbush.
of Mr Bremner, solicitor of stamps.
- At Coats Crescent, Edinburgh, Lieutenant-
Lately, at Buenos Tyres, Archibald Primrose,
Colonel Robert Swinton,
aged 28; and on the 10th July last, at Cape Hen-
7. At Edinburgh, Miss Barbara Bradfute, aged
73.
ry, St Domingo, George, aged 24; and at the saine
place, on the 28th January, Allan, aged 22, sons
- At Applegirth, Sir Alexander Jardine, Bart.
of the late Mr Allan Fowlis, wood-merchant, Glas-
11. At Leith, Mr John Palmer, shipinaster:
gow.
- At Edinburgh, Mrs Ann Falconer, daughter At Colinton Mains, Elizabeth, eldest daughter
of the late John Sutherland of Wester.
of the late Rev. David Pyper, minister of Pen-
12. At Bath, Alexander Oswald, Esq.
caitland.
--- At Easter Road, near Leith, Mrs Mollison
Lattly. Joseph Austin, Esq. aged 86, many years
Maitland, wife of Mr Jonathan Wilson, gardener. proprietor of the Chester and Newcastle theatres,
14. At Edinburgh, John, aged 18 months, son
&c. and the last remaining actor mentioned in
of Mr Alexander Goodsir, British Linen Compa Churchill's Rosciad.
ny's Bank.
At Hanover, A. Herschell, Esq. well known in
- At Edinburgh, Mr William Thomson, iron-
the musical world as a profound and elegant mu-
founder.
sician, and brother to Sir W. Herschell, the cele
- At Warriston Crescent, William, youngest brated astronomer.
son of Andrew Stivens, solicitor.
- At South Charlotte Street, Edinburgh, Miss
Marion Hunter of Hunterston.
Printed by Janis Buburtyne anul (U.


BLACKWOOD'S
EDINBURGH MAGAZINE.
No. LI.
JUNE, 1821.
Vol. IX.
Contents.
313
The Fisherman's Budget. No. I. Captain Parry's Voyage wwwmmmm. 289
To Christopher North, Esq.mm. 249 On the Cheetham Library
mwangan. 299
From Edward Ashby, Esq. St Adventure in Havana.
mwanamam 305
John's, Cambridge, to his Friend
On Hakewill's Apology
Frederick Ferrimond, Esq. 254 Sketches of Scottish Character
From Mrs Rebekah Verble to Mrs
No. VII. “ Harvest Home."com 318
Frumbush...commen mmm... 255 The Voyages and Travels of Colum.
Song
257 bus Secundus
329
The Steam-Boat, No. IV. Voyage Sicily...
334
Second.
coscow 258 The Coronation me
337
Tale V. Deucalion of Kentucky 259 The British Gallery
340
Tale VI. James Hillan and the The Glove
Young Woman..
262 The Leg of Mutton School of Poetry,
Bacchus, or the Pirates. Homer, Hymn
No. I
V
264
Letter from Christophe, King of Hayti 259 WORKS PREPARING for PUBLICA-
The Maniac's Plaints
271 TION
Rural Seclusionimno
272
The Spring Morning's Walk .. 273 MONTHLY LIST OF NEW PUBLI.
The Cot in the Glen
CATIONS
The Summer Night's Reverie 277
On the Alleged Decline of Dramatic
MONTHLY REGISTER.
Writing
amo. 279) Commercial Report am
356
Mediocrity.com
macam. 285 Appointments, Promotions, &c. n. 361
ItaliaSonetto a
288) Births, Marriages, and Deaths.com. 362
murano 344
winno 345
wanneer 35)
waan 276
macaroane 352
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1


BLACKWOOD'S
EDINBURGH MAGAZINE
No. LI.
JUNE, 1821.
Vol. IX.
THE FISHERMAN'S BUDGET. No. I.
To ChristOPHER NORTH, Ese
Most RESPECTED Sir,
You are well acquainted already with the purport of the subjoined and forth-
coming epistles, as well as with the humble individual that aforetime has had
the honour of writing unto you. But the world is a sharp critic, “gravis cene
sor," as the old poet hath it; and I am therefore called upon to satisfy the
scruples which it may feel on perusing them. And assuredly the unadvised
disclosure of private letters, and private concerns, is what few can justify,
much less 1, that am a minister of the church, and a staunch upholder of the
decencies of life. Therefore, I think I cannot shew such my disposition bete
ter, than by plainly and truly declaring the manner in which I became pos-
sessed of these curious documents, and the authority by which I now take
upon me to publish them. Yet, I know there are some acute persons that will
impugn my veracity, be it ever so veraciously asserted; but, to them, and
particularly to that half-pay captain, who, in his Preface to a Popish Work,
I conjecture, called the Monastery, is said to ridicule the idea of documents
being found in the way these were actually bequeathed unto me,--to them I
reply, that the subjoined facts are true, for any thing they know to the con-
trary; and you have full power from me to certify them thereof. If, never-
theless, they look for proof more positive, or, to use a favourite expression of
Pompey's great opponent, in his elegant work De Bell. Gall. lib. ter. p. 275.
Edit. Delph. 8vo. 1794. Imprim. Lugdun." certior fuctus ;" then, in such
case, I bid them inquire for me, the Reverend Owen Owen Balderdash,
Master of Arts, and Vicar of Caengylliwzlligul, in North Wales, where
I will readily shew them the original manuscripts, and moreover, welcome
them to a slice of excellent mutton, and maybe to a stout wholesome glass of
Mrs Balderdash's best punch, or toddy, as I think you call it; provided I pera
ceive that they come for the clearing of the said conscientious doubts, and not
of my mutton, and Mrs Balderdash's punch, or toddy.
And now, Sir, I assever, upon the credit of my cloth, as vicar duly inducted
to the living of Caengylliwzlligul, and by the honourable word of the Balder-
dashes, that I was returning, on the 29th day of June, anno domini 1820,
from my said church of Caengylliwzlligul, about five o'clock p. m., where I
had been paying, virtute officii, the last sad rites to a respected old friend and
servant, Mr Job Turnshovel, that had been sexton of the said church of
Caengylliwzlligul sixty-two years and a good deal more, and was a man of
simple, honest habits, and sorely lamented all throughout the neighbourhood.
Well
, Sir, I thought, upon so dolorous an occasion, I should pay but a due
tribute to so worthy a character, if I caused some little monument to be erect-
Vol. IX.
9H


250
The Fisherman's Budget. No. 1.
[June,
1
ed to his memory, seeing he had been sexton of the said church such an un-
common period; and I was ruminating to myself, whether I should indite the
same in prose or hexameter verse, or something of that kind, that would read
harmoniously, when Mr Simon Simpertree, who is a worthy draper, and one of
the church-wardens of the said church of Caengylliwzlligul, came out of his
door, and very courteously insisted upon my taking a dish of tea with him
and Mrs Simpertree, and the two Miss Simpertrees, who, he said, had just
come home from the boarding school. So 1 allowed myself to be persuaded ;
for in truth I was not in over conceit with myself or the world, after parting
with old Mr Job Turnshovel, who was a marvellous shrewd man. The tea
was very pleasant, although I was grieved to see how the Miss Simpertrees
were changed by their genteel schooling, for they tossed their heads, and con-
tradicted their father, and wore their frocks too low down on their shoulders,
and frequently said, “ Good Lord, pa,” and “Good Lord, ma," till I felt my-
self quite angry, and so did Mr Simpertree, I think, for he is a staid, pious
kind of man, and looked at his daughters with a stern eye. But, however,
they seemed to be checked towards the last, by my serious looks, and the even-
ing passed off very pleasantly upon the whole ; and when I came away, I hint-
ed to Mr Simpertree, the necessity of checking such profane expressions in
such young creatures, and he thanked me for the hint, and likewise begged I
would excuse the liberty he was taking, in requesting me to give them a dis-
course the next Sabbath, upon the death of the lamented Mr Job Turnshovel,
which I readily promised to do. Now, as there was’nt much time for putting
together a discourse between then and the next Sunday, I thought I might as
well decide my thoughts to the subject during the remainder of my walk,
which was upwards of three miles; the vicarage house of Caengylliwzlligul
being a wearisome distance from the church of that name. So I e'en deter-
mined to return home by the beach, by which I knew I should avoid the in-
terruptions of the boys taking off their hats, and the girls curtseying, and tell-
ing me how much they had learnt of their catechism; and particularly old
Thomas Tumbler, that will always make me come in and look at his pigeons,
which he takes a great pride and delight in, and which I also like to do, be-
cause he always sends Mrs Balderdash two couple of fine ones, for a pie on
Easter Sunday.
Perhaps, Mr North, you were never in the neighbourhood of Cengylli-
wzlligul, which is a great pity, particularly if you wished to write sermons,
or epitaphs, or poetry; for the beauty of the country, manifoldly increased
by its appropinquity to the Irish Channel, doth so cause the moral ideas to
expand, that prose itself assumeth the very garb of poetry. And, indeed,
Mr North, oftentimes when I have sauntered in an evening, along the huge
rocks, that bind this part of the coast, and watched the blue waves rolling,
and tossing, and foaming, as far as the eye can reach, and the red sun just
dipping his golden base in the waters thereof, and the distant mountains of
Erin throwing a blacker and larger shade across the horizon, as day-light
waned in our hemisphere, I say, Mr North, I have felt the tears come into my
eyes, and my breast to heave with unwonted emotion, and my lips have in-
voluntarily murmured my admiration of the Great Being that hath created
such a magnificent dwelling-place for such weak and such finite creatures.
And I do not know how it is, though perhaps a person so gifted as you are
may esteem the idea trifling, but I never walk amongst these rocks, and look
apon that prospect, and feel those sensations of almost unutterable gratitude,
but my heart feels happier and better, and my mind lighter; and Mr Simper-
trec says my language is more lofty and scriptural, which is the reason I always


1821.)
Letter to Christopher North, Esg.
251
walk that way to church, on a Sunday morning, to prepare and regulate my
feelings, and also the reason why I say it is a pity that you, who have, I sup-
pose, often to write poetry, do not possess such a clarifier for the gross and
earthly ideas which must be suggested in such a huge city as Edinburgh. But
this prospect has led me away from the letters, and I must tell how I became
possessed of them. I had the thoughts of old Job Turnshovel sorely on my
mind; and I fancied I saw him just dropping the handful of earth upon the
coffin, as he did on the very last corpse that was laid there before himself. I
am not used to be so desponding nor weak-minded, Mr North; but I confess
I felt rather uncomfortable, for the night was rapidly closing in, and the wind
howled rather mournfully among the rocks, and the thick black clouds looked
wilder and rougher than usual ; and every now and then a loud scream issued
from the building-places of the sea-fowl that shelter thereabouts, and the
waves roared deeper, and came furiously lashing against the rocks, and then a
large dash of spray would catch me plump in the face; and I began to be very
ehilly, and I buttoned my top-coat close into my neck, and I pulled my wig
over my ears, and I whistled, and walked very briskly, for I feared I should
not reach the fisherman's hut before it was quite dark. Not that I dreaded
robbers, or evil spirits, for I had no money to tempt the one, and I had the
Christian armour of a good conscience to fright away the other ; but the road
amongst the rocks was narrow and dangerous, and I had heard, moreover, that
the smugglers about these parts were grown very desperate since the excise-
men came to look after them; and they would feel no scruple at popping me
over head in the salt-water, if they fancied I was a spy upon them. * How,
ever, I got safe and sound to Andrew Saltfin's, the fisherman, and as I saw
but a thin light in the place, I did not go right in, as was my custom, but
gave a smart tap at the door ; for I thought, maybe, he had to go with the
morning's tide, and was already in bed. So, as I said, I knocked at the door,
and, in a moment, it flew open, and before I could speak a word, Andrew's
wife got her arms round my neck, and cried, and laughed, and hugged me, till
I was verily astonied. Nevertheless, I had little occasion to disengage her
arms, for she immediately perceived her mistake, and fell back into the arm-
chair in which Andrew Saltfin usually sat, and covered her face with her
hands, and burst into such a passion of grief, that even made me cry to look
upon ; and two little lads, the eldest not above three years of age, were in the
cabin, and one came and stood before its mother, and looked piteously in her
face, as if to inquire the cause of her trouble, and the other that was undress-
ed and upon the bed, seemed to wish to direct my attention to its parents
grief, by repeatedly pointing with its finger, and crying out" mammy."
took the two children on my knee, and after much persuasion and endeavours
to pacify the poor creature, I found that her husband had been absent two
days, and she made certain he had perished in the preceding night's storm;
“ for," said she, “ there's the sure tidings of some one's wreck in that bundle
which my little Tommy found on the beach this morning.” The eldest child,
on hearing this allusion to the bundle, slipped from my knee, and fetched from
the opposite side of the cabin a parcel, which was much wet and torn, and about
And, by the bye, I wish to ask you, whilst speaking of the smugglers, whether
Shakespeare did not allude to the articles which they furnish, when he made Owen
Glendower (that wild chieftain whose castle lay upon this coast, and of whom, more-
over, I am a descendant) assert that he could “ call spirits from the vast deep.” At all
events, I have not seen that signification put upon it by any of the illustrators of his
mmortal works


252
The Fisherman's Budget. No. I.
[June,
which were some remnants of brown paper and cord, although the whole was
completely soaked by the salt water. Several papers that had dropped from it
were lying about the cabin, and I ascertained indeed the melancholy truth,
that they were the contents of some mail-packet, that had most likely been
lost in the fatal storm. I was in the act of examining these, and endeavour-
ing to comfort the afflicted mother, when the door was opened, and may I never
be believed again, if it was not the happiest moment that I had ever experien-
ced, when I saw the honest Andrew clasped in the arms of his faithful and
affectionate wife.
Not to detain you, Mr North, upon the fisherman's case, I shall next pre-
mise, that his boat had been driven, spite of all his exertions, into a creek many
miles down the coast, where he was compelled to pass the night; and, sure
enough, he confirmed my forebodings concerning the packet between Man and
Whitehaven, for he saw it wrecked with his own eyes on the Great Head. An-
drew Saltfin would gladly have seen me safe to the Vicarage, but I thought it
was not over right to take him from his dear little home as soon as he had set
sound foot in it again, so I borrowed his great-coat and a good lantern, and
bundling up the parcel of letters, I bid the thankful couple good-night, and was
soon safe in my own corner, (where I have just finished smoking my pipe,) to
the no small joy of the timorous Mrs Balderdash, my faithful and most wor•
thy wife.
Well, Mr North, I do not know whether Mrs Balderdash or I was most
curious to examine the contents of the bundle ; although I may say that she
was, if I may judge by her earnest entreaties to read me a little of the " ' per-
ticulers,” whilst I was eating a rasher of ham to my supper. But Mrs Bal-
derdash is not over-gifted in deciphering, and I assure you, it required all
my scholarship to make either head or tail of the writing, it had become so
illegible by reason of the salt-water and rubbing against the shore. And, in-
deed, you may be sure I should have instantly dispatched them to Mrs High-
flyer, that has the care of the post-office of Caengylliwzlligul, to be forwarded
by her to the unhappy relatives, if so be that any thing like a direction could
be traced thereon. However, there was one packet that was so sealed, and so
covered with wrappers of thick paper, that I verily believe the document inclo-
sed might be said to be fire as well as water-proof; and well and fortunate was
it that such care had been taken; for marvellously did I ejaculate, and wide
did Mrs Balderdash open her mouth thereupon, it being nothing less than a
last will and testament, dated October the 17th. Ann. Dom. 1802, and convey-
ing to
heirs-male, legally begotten, the sum of thirty thousand pounds, of
; but I am forgetting myself. I have no right to tell other people's se-
crets, and they will be abundantly exposed in the forthcoming letters. Having
consulted with Mrs Balderdash, who, bating her prejudices, is a worldly wise
woman, although fond of the clish-ma-claver, as you call it, of much speaking ;
well, I say, after such consultation, it was judged advisable to dispatch a mes-
senger the next morning, with a letter to the nearest town to Caengylliwzlligul,
where a weekly news is printed, giving notice of such will and testament being
in possession of the Rev. Owen Owen Balderdash, Vicar of Caengylliwzlligul,
in North Wales. Nearly a fortnight passed over, however, and no application
was made for it; so that I began to fear I should retain that in my holding, the
want of which would cause misery and sorrow to some expecting relatives.
Mrs Balderdash and I regularly perused the said testament every night after
supper, for I was in hopes I should recollect some individual of the name of
the testator or legatee; because, although I have not seen much of the world
since I took upon me the ministerial duties of the Vicarage of Caengylliwzlli-


1821.]
Letter to Christopher North, Esq.
253
gul, yet I knew a host of people, when private tutor to my Lord that's
now on a foreign mission for the government.
It was on the thirteenth night after the publication of the said document, that
Mrs Balderdash and I were just in the middle of the first codicil, which bequeath-
ed the clear annual rental of £500 to the aforesaid Edward -- But here I am
telling secrets again. Well, sir, Mrs Balderdash was just wishing our income was
half that sum, that she might lay out a part in a new sarsnet pelisse and bonnet,
when Molly, that has been in the Vicarage 65 years, which includes some part
of the ministry of the late reverend Vicar that was Vicar before me; well, sir,
who should she usher in but a man in a riding-coat, splashed up to the shoulders,
and marvellously discomposed in his dress, with black hair and a pale face, and
having altogether the most unpropitiating physiognomy that ever was stamped
upon the human countenance. Nevertheless, he was uncommonly civil and
complaisant; and, after apologizing for his appearance at such an untimely
hour, was proceeding, I suppose, to advert to the will, when seeing it lie upon
the table, he took it up, and, as I am a living man, with the greatest compo-
sure stuffed it into his pocket. Such a piece of consummate assurance com-
pletely astonished me; and whilst I stood with my eyes staring, my mouth
open, and my hand extended towards him, and as yet unable to express my-
self in words, he drew a small case from his pocket, something like my leather
tobacco-pouch, and took a ten-pound note from it, which he placed in my
hand. Money hath ever been a touch-stone, and the sight of it recalled my
reason, which sharply reproached me for allowing the fellow to presume so far
on my corruptibility; so I forced the note back upon him, and insisted upon a
complete exposition of his claims to that document before he left the Vicarage.
He seemed, however, to pay no attention to this demand, but to be rather pre-
paring for moving; and although I'm something too old for a tussle, yet I
thought in a good cause I could stand a brush, so I e'en collared the scoundrel,
and Mrs Balderdash foreseeing the issue, seconded my efforts, and after some
scuffling, found her way to the bottom of the pocket in which he had deposited
the testament. Hereupon the fellow, finding rough means would not answer,
suddenly lowered his key from bullying to cringing, and proceeded, in such a
plausible and straight-forward manner to establish his claim, attributing his
unmannerly behaviour to his earnest desire of obtaining a document upon
which the fortunes of his family rested, and then to apologize so largely for his
rudeness to us, that I really believe he would have obtained it in the end-not-
withstanding Mrs Balderdash answered his numerous appeals to her decision
and her justice, by an incredulous,“ yes, to be sure," and such likemif, at
the moment, a carriage had not drove up to the gate, and Mrs Balderdash pre-
tending to inquire what it was, (Oh! I've thought her a foreknowing creature
since then,) left the room, and sure enough she turned the lock upon the door
and fastened us in. Strangely did the fellow's face vary from its composure
during the few intervals that elapsed before the door again opened ; but when
it did, and two noble-looking young men, one in uniform, and the other in a
suit of mourning, entered by it, he darted past them, and notwithstanding they
were after him like lightning, he got to the gate, untied his horse, and was off
in a whiffey. I wish I might tell you all the particulars of this strange deli,
verance; but it may not be. However, the will got to the right owner, and
200 golden guineas were laid upon the table by these generous lads, which, ne-
vertheless, I would not hold to myself, for it was Andrew Saltfin the fisher-
man, and his faithful wife, to whom they rightly belonged, and they have been
the unforeseen instruments for effecting, through the goodness of Providence,
a singular deliverance from the hand of the oppressor. And if I am Vicar of


254
The Fisherman's Budget, No. 1.
[June,
Caengylliwzlligul till the end of my life, which I would not affirm will be the
case, now I have served this rich gentleman; but, however, if I live to be Bi-
shop of St Asaph, I shall never forget the laughing and joking we had over a
bowl of brandy and water, or toddy, as I think you call it, when reading the
epistles that were in my possession ; and the end of it was, that they agreed it
would be a good joke to publish them, as they all belonged to some of their
connexions, and thus not only preserve a memorial of the occurrence, but, by
the remuneration which would be given for them, a small addition might be
made to the fisherman's honey-fall. And he to whom the will belonged, and
that was dressed in black, said he would add two or three letters to the list,
which had been written and transmitted in England, and which would be ne-
cessary to give a connected character to the subject, as they related to those that
were subsequently found by me at the fisherman's hut; and I was desired to
write the introduction to them, and to explain how letters written in England
should come to be amongst those that were lost in their passage from the Isle
of Man. So, when I had done this, and polished it up as it is now, I sent the
whole series, at the recommendation of Mr Simpertree, to the Evangelical Ma-
gazine, for publication, but they would have nothing to do with the subject;
and when I told the Captain, he bid me send them to you, with Ensign O'-
Dogherty's compliments, who, I believe, is an old crony of the Captain's. I am
told he accompanied you on a shooting expedition, of which you published an
account, under the name of The Tent, and that you were the most jovial set
he ever met with out of his own mess-room. And so, now you know a good
deal about the letters, but not all; and I wish I might tell you what I did for
the young gentleman in black, last Sunday morning, at the Church of Caens
gylliwyllizul, but I must not at present; and you'll know all in good time,
Aşd so I am, dear Mr North,
Your's at command,
0. BALDERDASH.
From Edward Ashby, Esq. of St. John's, Cambridge, to his Friend
Frederick Ferrimond, Esq.
MY DEAR FRIEND,
and assistance, which to me would
The long expected trial is at last have been doubly grateful at the pre-
terminated,
and your lucky friend will sent moment. I shall remain, how-
be first wrangler. Our friend Jones ever, with my friends but a short time
is amongst the senior Ops: Elworth this evening; and, by rising early, and
heads the oι πολλοι. This evening I some exertion, I yet hope to spend a
dine with Professor Somers, and he few hours with you at Aldhame. The
has invited several of my acquaintance gold medal, and a first class degree,
to the feast. I am grateful for this will, I fear, Fred. but little advance
good man's kindness-he is almost the the great end I have in view ; nor can
only one, saving thee, my dear Fred. I refer with much satisfaction to the
whose friendship has been firm and happy but inactive days of my aca-
undeviating. Yet, I could well have demic life, since they have been pass-
dispensed with its expression at this ed, not indeed in an unworthy pure
moment, since there are many circum- suit, but in that which can have no
stances connected with my present un- connexion with the first, the dearest,
dertaking, that demand the unruffled and the most sacred object of my fu-
reflection of a few quiet hours. Sin- ture exertions. You, my dear friend,
cerely do I regret the cause of your you can appreciate the fervour of that
present absence, not only for the trou- enthusiasm which is directed to the at-
ble in which it has involved you, but tainment of parents and a home;-you
also for the deprivation of that advice can estimate the solitary singleness of


1821,
The Fisherman's Budget.' No. 1.
253
one that has had no father to foster pended ; although I am as distant as
bis exertions, no mother to alleviate ever from the chief object of my
his sorrow;-that has passed the green- anxiety- the individual by whom
ness of his childhood, and the flower they are provided. Surely this capri-
of his youth, in mysterious banish- cious, this unaccountable appropri-
ment from the cheering smile of kin- ation, which at once provides for, and
dred and of friends; and that has been, endangers my respectability, securing
and still is, indebted to the bounty of me, indeed, against the assaults of
some unknown individual for the very want, yet perpetually involving me in
means of his subsistence. Nor is the hazardous suspicions, cannot be the
information which I have hitherto been provision of parental care, nor the
able to gather at all equal to my ex- kindly offering of parental fondness.
pectations, but indefinite and vague. Already have I experienced the mis-
Yet I go in the secret assurance of fortune of my lot in the mortifying
success; promoted, as it will be, by rencontre at .; nor do I know
every exertion that health, interest, at this moment, upon which I reflect
and affection can stimulate.
with the greatest pain, the vivid re-
Nothing very material was elicited collections of that most lovely girl, or
on my interview with Mr Heys, the the petulant intemperance of her over-
banker, of Eaglesholme. I fancied that bearing brother. To-morrow, how-
his courtesy was somewhat more ge- ever, will witness a first endeavour to
nial, when I presented the Professor's penetrate the mystery; and, indeed, I
letter. It appears, that about fifteen have strong hopes of obtaining some
years ago, a person of gentlemanly de- happy clue from the old couple that
portment deposited six thousand five had the care of my childhood. I have
hundred pounds with the firm, the in- written to our good Dr Winton, and
terest of which was to be regularly requested his company in my intended
transmitted to my respected old school. visit to them. My future plans will
master, Dr Winton, at Hopeferry, for materially depend on the opinions
the maintenance and education of a which he entertains. My rooms are
youth then about to be placed with let to a man from Winchester; and
bim; and that, when such youth was my books and papers lodged in So-
sent to the University, the issuing in- mers's library. I shall request him to
come was to be received by him. The let you have access to them, when you
investment was made in the name of return hither next term, and I shall
an individual, with whom the banker be glad if they prove of any service to
declared he had not the slightest ac- you.
quaintance; nor since that period, had But the repeated salutes at the Pro-
the person ever communicated with fessor's door warn me to prepare for
the concern. But the most curious part my visit; and, with an assurance of
of the business is, that I am unaccoun- speedily hearing from me again, in
tably withheld, on pain of its devol. case I am prevented visiting you, be-
ving to a local charity, from appro- lieve me to be,
priating, either now or at any other
Dear Fred.
period, and to any purpose whatsoever,
most sincerely
the principal itself. I'he inquiry has
and affectionately yours,
been so far satisfactory, inasmuch as I
EDWARD ASHBY.
am assured of the perpetuity of the
funds on which I have hitherto de- Fred. Ferrimond, Esq.
From Mrs Rebekah Verble to Mrs Frumbish.
Duglas, Oily Man ; June 24. 1819.
MY DEAR Mes FrUMBISH, as it is neither so safe or so plessant as
As I conjecterd you wud be anxus to the one-horse shandideredan: but as
here how me and my usband is sinse there is no other on the rode just nou,
we left ome, I take this hoportunity of folks is like to make the best of it they
sending you a few scrauls conserning can. Its a fereful helliment; and as
the pertiklers thereof, tho Got nose grene as your bumbasine pettycot. The
when they may rache you. I was, you ship we were to ryde in, was called the
rekollect, very loth all along to cum Robber Bruse; and hanker'd at the
by this here water carriage, insomuch sine of the Pere's Head. We were tould


256
The Fisherman's Budget. No. I.
(June,
to be there by hate ; 60 we swallud our ever, who is a very civil man, and does
preckfast in a great urra; and after not ware a weppón, or large wiskers,
much trubble found out the plase; but like them in our town, tould me he was
it was hard wurk for 'em to get me to call the stew hard ; and ritely enuf,
go, the bote being, as you see, the lenth for I saw him marvellus bissy pilling
of our cabbage garden from the rode hunions and potatas, and making supe,
side ; altho the watur was marvillus and biling fittels, the rest o' the day.
lo, being what is call’d tyed out. Oh ! Mrs
Frumbish, you cannot form
Howsumever they fastened a hand- the remmotest hidea of the hellegan-
kerchif over my bize; and too pure ces and konvinninces of this sed ship.
fellows, without shus and stockins, There his beds with clene shits and
whipped me up in their harms, and kounter pains; and hotter mans to de
carrid me into the vehicle. Lord, Mrs cline upon; and mihoginy tables ; and
Frumbish, how my hart went bump, luking lasses, and chanticleers, and the
bump, as the salt see went splash, Specktathor; and the Hole Duti of
splash, undernethe o' my fete." And Man; and Pammilhah, and a store of
then the bote was as rickety as a cray- other godli bukes for those hadicted to
dle ; furst going to one side and then mediation.
to the other; so that I verily thout I After seeing all bilhow I went upon
shud never heskape with my life. The deck; and it was a mirkle to see one
peple is as harden'd as Beelzibub; for man push such a big ship along quite
when I hasked one of them if there easy. He stud at what they call the
was water enuf to drown abody? he elm (tho its nathing like that in yure
said there was 12 fete, which mayhap gardin.) I watch'd how he stered his
wud be soughfishent, if I nelt down kumpass; and he kept luking at sum-
to it.
thin that he calld north. I think I saw
But the most perillous thing of all it onse, like a large white duck in the
was getting out of the bote on to the whater ; but I wont be shure.
ship; which was dubble the hate of There was a site of folks on the top;
our aystack, and nothin but a potterin and wen I was tird of standin, I ask'd
rope lador to ass end by. Wen, how- the stew hard for a seat that pullid
ever, him as they call’d the kaptin, saw out; as there was two or three skore
the prikdikament I was in, a harm aboarn. He laff’d and said, “ Ver vell :
chare was let doun to iste me up; and ver vell:” and brought one, so I sat
sure enuf I was goin very nisely, when and watch'd the oashame over the sip
holing to a nasty bully to which the shide. He always laff’d when I spoke
rope was fastend, I stuck fast, in the to him: he said they were called guard-
middle hair, and altho I'm none o' the ing stools. In a few minnits, however,
litest, I swung backwards and forwards there was a general constipation ; sum
like a cro's nest in a popular tree. And crying out they were running on the
wud you bilheave it, whilst I was ang- banks ; wich I thout was all a joke ;
ing, for all extents and porpoises, be- as the folks were paying such hepes of
tween the heven and the hearth, the munny to the hagent, that there must
impident kubs were hinjoying my shi- have been a run on the banks before.
tuation, and crying out, “ O ye, o !” Howsomever it was a dedly truth.
“Heve ahead!" "She's agoing ;” and There was such hurry skurry, and
such like barber us expressons; and no more thouts of tikkets and pay.
I veryly bilheave I shud; but I Then they tied a pure fello with a rope
skrik'd, and voud I wud invite em for outside the ship; and sure enuf I
murder, if I got down alive; which in thought they were goin to serve him
a maner broiled there impettinence. like Joe Nash, and make him swallow
When I got on the deck, a felli as Wales for an hatonement. But they
black as Hold em cole, such as him that tould me it was only “Eve in the
rydes behind Mrs Noir's charrat, came Suds,”* and the merryner afore named
up and ask'd me if I had a birth, and let down a fishing line, and called out,
wud have me go bilhow to chuse a “ By the wack there's five;" upon
bed. But I fetch'd him a slap in the wich the kaptin utter'd a profane oath,
faise, and tould I wasn't such a sim- and bid him count agen. Then be
pletun as that; for I new a ship from shouted “By the wack there's seven;"
a lyin-in-hospital. The kaptin, how- till at last he could not make up his
• It is presumed the writer refers to heaving the lead.
13


The Fisherman's Budget. No. 1.
257
mind how menny there was; and the were ded: one old gentleman begged
kaptin bid him lét em go, and when he they'd fetch him a lawyer, to settle his
pulled up his fishing line, it turned out off heirs ; and another asked to be
there was none at all.
thrown over, and then began to prey.
Some said we were short of whater; I had cense enuf, however, to keep my
which is vastly hod, as nothing else mouth shut, since there was a huge
could be seen : but this ship was drawn swarm of she-bulls hovring about the
by what they call steming gin; and so ship, as they said was wating for prey-
many peple being in it, acquir'd a pour ers.
of boiling water; as the kettles them Tordes nite, many could see the
selves were as big as our kitgin ; and Oily Man; and mi usband kept blis-
fizzed enuf to deffen one. I never will tering me to luke, as I have a gude
travail in one of these spiritous vessels site : but the very menshon of the oil
agen ; for you kno. I'm but used to a completely revoked me; so that I did
little of a night; and the foom of the not see it till we landed, and then it
likker quite superfined me; till I felt was pitch dark. To be sure some had
as squeamish as if I had been taking an a tillerskup, thro which they spide it,
be metic. A litile biskit kept me quiat: before it was in site ; which is a very
nevertheles I had fereful mizgivings zinglar pinonmyman.
and uprizings before dinner was de But I have now X heeded the cut of
nounced, as you may well suppose. my shete; and the backit is going to
About fore the dinner was lade ; but the sale ; and therefore I must con-
I had wated and wated till I was past clude
heating ; and the first pece of mutton With no more at present,
chop settled my hash throughly. The
From yure dere friend,
kaptin and stew hard carried me bil-
RIBBEKKA VERBLE.
how ; where there was quite a hospital P.S.-The whater’s boiling, and my
of sick travailers. Sum wishd they good man just cum to his t.
SONG.
AIRV" Here awa', there awa'."
1.
'Tis sweet on the hill top, when morning is shining,
To watch the rich vale as it brightens below;
'Tis sweet in the valley, when day is declining,
To mark the far mountains, deep tinged with its glow.
But dearer to me were one moment beside thee,
In the wild of the desart, while love lit thine eye ;
For in weal or in woe, or whatever betide thee,
Thou’rt the charm of my life, the mild star of my sky.
2.
Then fly to me here, while the noontide is glowing;
The greenwood is cool in the depth of its glooms,
There I've wove thee a seat, where the wild flowers are blowing,
And the roses thou lov'st shed their dearest perfumes.
There we'll talk of past griefs, when our love was forbidden,
When fortune was adverse, and friends would deny ;
But my heart was still true, though its fervour was hidden
From the charm of my life, the mild star of my sky.
3.
Then haste, my beloved, the moments are flying,
And catch the bright fugitives ere they depart,
That each its own portion of pleasure supplying,
May wake the mute rapture that dwells in the heart;
And when age shall have temper'd our warm glow of feeling,
Though our spirits are soberd, less ardent our joy,
Our love shall endure, though youth's lustre is stealing
From the charm of my life, the mild star of my sky.
M. R.
VOL. IX.
2 I


258
[June,
The Steum-Boat, No. IV.
THE STEAM-BOAT; OR, THE VOYAGES AND TRAVBLS OF THOMAS DUFFLE,
CLOTU-MERCHANT IN THE SALT-MARKET OF GLASGOW.
No. IV.
Voyage Second.
When I had residented at home the space of four weeks, having much sola-
cing of mind in reflecting on the adventures of my first voyage, I began to feel
an onset to a new motion working within me, which every day gathered strength,
and in the end, came to a head in my going forth a second time from the ob-
scurities of the Salt-market, and the manufacturing smokes and smells of Glas-
gow, to enjoy the hilarity of the sparkling waters of the summer sea, and the
blitheness of the hills and of all living things, in the seasonable brightness and
gladness which was then shining from the heavens and glittering upon the
earth.
I thought I had now acquired an experience in voyaging for pleasure, by
what I noticed in my first ploy of that kind, so I told Mrs MʻLeckit that I
would go by the very earliest steam-boat in the morning, and as the Britannia
was to sail at six o'clock, she need not rise to boil the kettle, for it was my in-
tent to enjoy myself by taking my breakfast in the steward's room with the
other passengers; indeed I was chiefly egged on to do this by my neighbour
Mr Sweeties, who, upon my exhortation, had, soon after my return, taken his
diversion by a voyage to Greenock likewise, and partaken of a most comforta-
ble meal in that way. But the progeny of the schemes of man are not in his
own hands, and though I had got a degree of insight as to the manner of set-
ting about an embarkation, I found that I had really gone out with too much
confidence in the strength of my own knowledge.
It was such an early hour that the steward, not counting on any body want-
ing to breakfast till they would reach Greenock, had made no provision of pro-
vender; so that when I went to him, as cagy as a pyet picking at a worm, to in-
quire when the eggs would be boiled, judge of my mortification to hear that
there was to be no breakfasting that morning ;- which disappointment, with the
natural vapours of the river's tide, caused me to remember the judicious observe
of Mrs MʻLeckit, that there was a danger in going on the water with an empty
stomach. However I had put some ginge-bread nuts in my pocket, and by the
use of them the wind was keepit off my heart, and I suffered less from the ef-
fect than might have been expected.
But though this in its kind was an adversity that I had not foreseen, I sus-
stained another, which, in my opinion, in its season was far greater. The major
part of the passengers had not been accustomed to rise so soon in the morning, and
some of them had been up late ayont the night-in short, we were all oorie,
and scant in our intercourse towards one another, so that for the greater por-
tion of the way there was little communion practicable among us, and what was
could not be said to have that cordiality with which I was in the fain expecta-
tion of meeting. We had sailed indeed as far as Blithewood's new house be-
fore any kind of an awakened sociality began to sprout, and I was beginning to
fear that an undertaking so unsatisfactory at the outset would afford but small
pleasure in the progress, and be found wanting in the end. However, at that
point things took a turn to the better, and I fell into conversation with a Yanky
man from America, that had been at Glasgow laying in goods for his store in
the city of Philadelphia. (He was surely a man of great wisdom and experience
in the world, according to his own account, and from what he said of the Uni-
ted States, they can be little short of the kingdom of heaven, except in the mat-
ter of religion, of which I could discern, that, taking him for a swatch, the


1821.)
The Steam-Boat. No. IV.
259
Americans have but a scanty sprinkling, and that no of the soundest grace.
Indeed anent this I had heard something before, but the Yanky was a testifica-
tor by his discourse to the veracity of the information.
Our conversation was for a time of that jointless and purposeless kind, that
is commonly the beginning of acquaintance ; but it took a more settled course
as we proceeded onward, and at last ran into a regular stream, like a river that
has its fountain-head up among the moors and mosses. What chiefly occasion-
ed this sedate currency of the Yanky's words, was an observe of mine regarding
the beauty of the prospects that the hand of Nature was setting before us at
every turn of the navigation-all which the American man slighted as a com-
modity in its kind of no value, saying, that the views in his country were of
a more excellent quality, being on a greater scale; and he laughed outright
when I directed his attention to the Mare's Tail, that bonny waterfall near
Finlayston House, which I should have mentioned in my first voyage, bad I
then noticed it. This drew on to some account of things that he had seen; and
then he told me, that he was well known throughout "all the States” by the
Aame of Deucalion of Kentucky—a title which was bestowed upon him in con-
sequence of being the sole survivor of a town that was washed away by a de-
luge. His description of this calamity it behoves me to give as nearly as posa
sible in his own words ; indeed, as I have already said, I find myself possess-
ed of a felicitous fecundity in writing down the recollections of what I heard,
but my pen is afflicted with a costive impediment when I try to eke or enlarge
upon the same. And it is this peculiar gift that emboldens me, along with the
strenuous counselling of that discerning man, Mr Sweeties, to send forth my
voyages and travels in this manner to the republic of letters, the only sort of
republic that I entertain any pure respect for, notwithstanding the laudatory
descant of the Yanky man's on that of “the States."
DEUCALION OF KENTUCKY.
TALE V.
My grandfather was one of the his prospects were certainly undenia-
first settlers of Kentucky. He was, by ble.
profession, a miller, and built a flour I think it is not possible that I
mill at a village in that state. It was shall ever see again a place half so beau-
called Thyatira, after one of the ancient tiful as the unfortunate Thyatira, and
towns mentioned in the Bible ; and he the valley which it overlooked. The
and his neighbours, the founders, ex- valley was green, the stream was clear,
pected it would become a great city, and the woods, that clothed the moun,
but not a vestige of it, neither of the tains, were of the loftiest kind, and
church nor mill, now remains-yet I the richest leaf! All is now desolate.
remember it all well. It was a hand- Sometimes of a night, as I came across
some place, situated at the bottom of the Atlantic, I thought the bell of the
a range of hills, wooded to the top—a little wooden church, that stood on the
fine stream washed their feet, and the slope above the village, rung in my ear,
mill stood at the side of a pretty wa- and I heard the dogs, as it were, bark
terfall.
again, and the cocks crow; but the ship
My grandfather left his property would give a lurch and turn my eyes
in a flourishing condition to my father, outwards upon the ocean waters all
who was an enterprizing character. around me, as lone and wild as the
He took an active part in the war for deluge that destroyed my native val-
the independence, and when the peace ley:
was adjusted, he returned to Thyatira, In the summer, before the dreadful
where he enlarged the old flour-mill, yellow fever broke outin Philadelphia –
and constructed another for sawing the I was in that city at the time when the
timber, with which the neighouring fever raged, which makes meremember
mountains were covered. Every body it so well,-my father was much trou-
predicted that my father would soon be bled by the failure of the stream which
one of the richest men in the state, and supplied his mill. The drought dried


1821.)
The Steam-Boat, No IV.
201
dammed up the lake, had been formed myself on to Greebock, which is min
by a gradual accumulation of fallen tuated about three miles to the west-
timber. The water through the rent ward. This determination, as it pro-
insinuated itself among the mass; the ved, was most judicious on my part;
mud and sand between the gathered for I found a comfortable house, and
trunks were washed away, and the great civility in the attendance, facing
mass lost its adhesion. In the course the shipping in the harbour, with ex-
of a few minutes, Heaven knows by cellent warm rolls, piping hot from the
what strange aptitude, the stupendous baker's, and fresh herring that would
mound began to move. It became con- have been a treat at any time. Judge
vulsed; it roared with the throes of then, courteous reader, what they were
tearing asunder; the waters of the to me, appeteesed as I was by a voy-
lake boiled up from the bottom; I ran age of nearly twenty miles without
from the spot; my father and his friends breaking my fast? Íruly scandalous
stood aghast and terrified; birds were is the by-word to say, “ There's no-
screaming from the woods below; I thing good in Port-Glasgow."
called to my father, and to all, for When, with the help of the dainties
God's sake to follow me; I looked to- at the inns, I had pacified the craving
wards the lake-it seemed to me as if of nature within me, I walked out to
its calm level surface was taking the inspect the curiosities of the place, and
shape of sloping glass; I caught hold to make my remarks on the inhabit-
of the branch of a tree which grew on ants. I cannot, however, honestly say,
the rock where I had contemplated the that I saw a great deal to occasion any
scene the preceding evening; I felt as thing like an admiration. The waiter,
it were the globe of the world sliding to be sure, as his won't doubtless is
from under my feet; I exerted my- with all strangers, directed my atten-
self; I reached the rock; every thing tion to the steeple, telling me that it
was reeling around me; I saw the hills was higher than the Greenock one;
and woods moving away. I shut my but we have so many handsome stee-
eyes in terror, and, covering my face ples in Glasgow, it could not reason-
with my hands, stretched myself on ably be expected that this of “ the
the rock, as if I lay at the feet of the Port” would be regarded by me as any
angel of destruction. I heard a sound very extraordinary object. One thing,
Louder than thunder ; my senses were however, I ascertained completely to
for a time stunned. What in the mean- my satisfaction, which is, that the
time happened I know not; but when story of its being crackit is not cor-
I had fortitude enough to look around, rect, although, in the matter of the
I found myself on the ledge of an awe general edifice, there may be a foun-
ful precipice a black and oozy valley, dation for the report : that building
her bless as a grave, where the lake being bevelled to the shape of the
had been ; and for the mound where I street, and erected in an ajee style,
had left my father and his labourers, has no doubt given rise to the misre-
a horrible chasm-devastation horrid presentation. Upon the which I would
as the roaring deluge was seen raging remark, that we
have, in this instance,
down the valley, towards Thyatira. an example how careful and precise
The sound lesseneil as I looked, and a travellers should be in publishing their
silence succeeded, such as the raven of descriptions; for it has been a sore
Noah found upon the earth, when she heart to the worthy people of Porte
went forth, banquetting on the abo- Glasgow to think it is a received opi-
lished races of the old world.”
nion in the great world, that their
beautiful steeple is lout-shouldered,
The Yanky man was much affected when, in fact, it is only the towna
as he related this desolation ; and in house that is capsided.
telling it, bis voice had a fearful haste When I had satisfied my curiosity
that hurried on my fancy, till I was relative to all the particulars concern,
almost a partaker in the grief and con- ing this renowned structure, I visited
sternation that possessed his memory; the dry-dock, a very useful place for
insomuch, that I was thankful when maritime purposes of various sorts,
the vessel reached the quay of Port- especially for repairing vessels' bot-
Glasgow, when I went on shore to take toms; and then I went to investigate
my breakfast at an inn, being resolved that famous antiquity, the old Castle ;
to leave her there, and to travel by and, in turning back towards the inns


262
The Steam-Boat, No. IV.
[June,
entry; and not only a harbour, but her wont was, Mrs Hillan steppit home
to seek my way to the Greenock road, a short time before her gudeman, to
I saw several of the inhabitants at have the tea masket by the time he
their shop-doors, and some elderly would come, and as James was setting
characters standing forenent the inns bye the tartans and plaidings that stood
waiting for the London papers. Upon at the door-cheek for a sign and show,
the whole, they appeared to be a hame- a kintra wife drew up to buy some-
ly race; and the town, like all small thing: “ Come in, young woman,"
places of little note in the way of busi- said James, for that was his manner of
ness, seemed to have but few young salutation to all ages of the female sex.
men, and what they had were not of a “ Come in,” said he," and steek the
sort calculated to make a figure in de- door,” said he, meaning the half-door,
scription. As for the houses, they are a convenience which, like many other
built in various styles of architecture, good old fashions, has gone down; and
and a few of them have been erected over which, in his shop, I have often
within the last ten or twenty years; stood, to see the lords coming in, and
so that it cannot be said the town has the magistrates drinking the King's
actually fallen into a habitude of de- health, on the birth-day, at the cross.
cay. But I should conjecture that the So in came the customer, but, no being
population cannot be greatly on the acquaintit with the manner of shop-
increase.
doors, as James was looting down be
By the time I had gone my rounds, hind the counter, to lift up what she
and come back to the inns, there was wanted, she shut the mickle door up-
a noddy at the door, bound for the on them, and there they were, the two
town of Greenock; so being somewhat innocent souls, in the dark by them-
tired with my itinerancy, I stepped selves. “Heh!” quoth James, “but it's
into it, where I found a brave young grown suddenly dark-we maun get a
lass going the same road. At first this candle ;” and with that he came round
gave me no concern; but when the the counter to where the carlin was
noddy began to move, I remembered standing. “ Hey! what's this, young
the story of my deceased worthy old woman?” cried he; “ what gart you
neighbour and brother of the trade, shut the door?” and with that he few
James Hillan, who had his shop at till’t, with a panting heart, and found
the corner of the Salt-market, entering the lock-bolt was almost shotten.
“aboon the Cross,” and I began to “ Think what might have been the
grow, as it were, uneasy.
consequence if it had gane in a' the-
Tale VI.
gither, and me obliged to cry to the
neighbours, to let me and the young
JAMES HILLAN AND THE Youxo woman out of the dark shop," said
WOMAN.
James, as he used to tell the tale in his
James Hillan was a very wealthy jocose manner.
man, both creditable, and well respec-
tit, but of a kindly simplicity of man So I thought of this story as I was
ner. In his time there was not such nodding away to Greenock, beside the
an orderly fashion in the art of shop- Port-Glasgow lass; but by and by an-
keeping as there is now-a-days; we other passenger came in, and we arri-
neither fashed ourselves with prenti- ved safe and sound.
ces, nor with journal books and led I observed on the road as we travel-
gers, but just had one in which we en- led along, that the young ladies of
tered all our counts of credit ; and “ the port” were all going Greenock-
when the customers that took on with ward ; and no doubt they had reasons,
us paid what they were owing, we well known to themselves, for seeking
scrapit out the debt. In this fashion that direction, dressed out in their
James, and Mrs Hillan, his wife, keep- best; and I could not avoid reflecting
it their cloth shop, the which being in that this tribute of her beauties which
under the pillars that were then round Port-Glasgow pays to Greenock is an
the buildings of the cross, had no glass absolute acknowledgment of her infe-
window but only an open door, which, riority, and it naturally led me to ex-
when James and the mistress went pect what, indeed, I found in reality,
home to their own house in the Stock- a very different sort of a town; for in
well, at meal-time, was always locked. Greenock there is not only a steeple,
It happened one evening, that, as but likewise a bottle-cone, and a bello
8


1821.]
The Stean-Boat, No. IV.
263
also a new harbour ; besides the place But no to dwell at o'er great a length
they call the tail of the bank, and that on the ettling of the Greenockians, I'll
stately edificial pile, the Custom- just mention a thing that was told to
house, with diverse churches, schools, me by a very creditable person that
and places of worship; a Tontine Inn, was no Port-Glasgow man.-After the
a Play-house, and Assembly Rooms, Edinburgh Musical Festival, nothing
built at a great cost of thousands of less would serve the aspiring people of
pounds, for the purpose of having a Greenock than an oratorio, for which
dance, maybe thrice a-year. I'll cer- purpose they made a wonderful colleca
tainly no go the length of the Port- tion of precenters, melodious weavers,
Glasgow man that came in upon us on and tuneful cordwainers, together with
the road, and say that the toom house sackbuts and psalteries, and various
fornent the Tontine is a monument of other sorts of musical implements of
the upsetting vanity of the Greenock sound; and that nothing fitting might
folk. But it's surely a type of the en- be wanting, as to place, they borrowed
terprizing spirit of the place ; for it the oldest kirk in the town; the cold
should be allowed that they must have in which prevented some of the flute-
had great notions of things, and a players, it is thought, from properly
strong sense of prosperity, to project crooking their mouths, while the damp
and bring to a completion such un- made the fiddle-strings as soft as pud
dertakings. But there was an ettling ding skins; so that when the work be
beyond discretion perhaps in this ; for gan, there was nothing but din for
a town like Greenock is overly near to music, and for quavers a chattering of
our great city ever to have a genteel teeth. The outcry was so dreadful in
independency in its own community the chorus of " hallelujah," that it
to maintain such establishments with might be well called a halleboloo ; and
a suitable bravery. And so it has, as I there was a suspicion that the whole
was informed, kythed; for the Assem- affair was a device of some paukie
bly-room buildings are in a manner young doctors, who at the time were
deserted in their purposes ; insomuch, scant of practice,' and thought the cold
that some folks are of an opinion that damp kirk might help them.
they might be put to a worse use than When I had seen the outlines and sel-
by being converted into a kirk, as the vages of Greenock, and made my own
profane circus in our town was trans- remarks on the spruce clerks, and no-
mogrified into a tabernacle of prayer. ticed a surprising apparition of beauti-
From what I could pick out of my fal Misses, I went to see my worthy
companions in the noddy, its a serious friend and customer Mr Tartan, who,
object with the Port-Glasgow folk to after some discourse anent the cause of
rival Greenock; but the Greenock peo- the late falling off in the demand for
ple, like the cow in the meadow, re- superfines among his correspondents in
gardless of the puddock, chew the cud the Highlands, invited me to take my
of their own self-satisfaction in great dinner with him at his own house,
complacency. It would, however, be where I met with several gentlemen of
toocritical for the nature of my writings a powerful sagacity, in all manner of
to particularise all the manifold merits affairs. But what took place is matter
and instances of public spirit among that must be reserved to grace and re-
the feuers, sub-feuers, and inhabi- plenish another chapter. Let it suffice
tants of Greenock. They have got, I for the present, that it was really a
believe, something of every kind of in- wonder to hear how they riddled the
stitution among them, except a luna- merits of things, proving one another's
tic asylum ; and they are lied upon if opinions all chaff and stour, a contro-
they have not some things that they versical spirit begotten, as Mr Tartan
stand less in need of; for it was a wise told me, out of the town politics, every
saying that I have heard said of a daft body, feuers, sub-feuers, and inhabi.
laddie, belonging to Glasgow, when he tants in general, having all a share and
was asked what took him so often to handling in the concerns of their body
Greenock," Its a fine place,” quo' politic.—But more anent this by and
Jemmy, "for a'the folk there are just by.
like mysel.”


Bacchus, or the Pirates.
[June,
BACCRUR, OR TRI PIRATES.
urse
DEAR CHRISTOPRER,
I send you a short Homeric hymn, translated into that lyric metre of which
Sir Walter Scott is the mighty master. How I have succeeded, must of cour
be left to others to determine; but I may say, that I am decidedly of opinion
that the measure might be advantageously employed in rendering several pas-
sages in the romantic parts of the classical poets. There are a great many por-
tions of Homer particularly, which are peculiarly fit for it. And every reader
of taste must recollect with what grace and spirit two of the finest odes of Pin-
dar have been translated into this metre by a Quarterly Reviewer, a few years
ago.
Lord Byron, in his dedication of the Corsair, justly observes, that no one
has been able to manage with perfect success, the dangerous facility of the
octosyllabic verse, but the Ariosto of the North. I agree with his lordship
altogether ; even in his own hands, or those of Moore, it is by no means
equally well managed. Coleridge could give it its fullest and most bewitching
melody; but I fear that we call on him in vain, and I am sorry for it. Many
poets of most respectable powers have failed completely, which I mention to
excuse myself, if I be judged to have followed their example.
If you wish I shall send you a few more specimens.
I am,
DEAR CHRISTOPHER,
Your's sincerely,
R. F. P.
Dublin, May 24, 1821.
[We have a misty sort of recollection of a translation of this poem, by Mr
L. Hunt, whereof the two first lines only have remained in our memory.
They are as follows:
Of Bacchus let me tell a sparkling story..
'Twas by the sea-side on a promon-tory.
But the rest of the translation, and how he cockneyized at the expence of Ho-
mer, is it not to be found in the shops of the trunk-makers ?
C. N.]
Homer, Hymn 5th.
['Αμφί Διώνυσον Σεμέλης έρικυδέος μών, κ. τ. λ.)
I SHALL now a tale relate,
Of Bacchus, son of Semele ;
How upon a cliff he sate,
Wash'd by the ever barren sea.
A youth, scarce passing from the years
Of boyhood, the gay God appears.
Dark waved the tresses of his head,
And round his beauteous form was spread
A mantle dipt in Tyrian dye.
When swift across the azure deep
A crew of Tuscan pirates sweep,
Driven on by evil destiny.
Who, when they see the youth divine,
With many a secret nod and sign,
To seize him as a prey combine.


1821.7
Bacchus, or the Pirates.
266
Instant they spring upon the land,
And
grasp
the God with felon hand;
Then with their captive, glad at heart,
Quick to their galley they depart.
The crew were joyous, for they thought
That they a gallant prize had brought,-
Deeming him, from his regal air,
The offspring of a high-born King;
And soon, with cruel hands, they dare
Round him the rigorous bands to fling.
They bound him, but the hope was vain
To hold the God in servile chain;
The flexile withs, * which they had twined
Round hand and foot, self-loosed unbind.
Unshackled sat the youth—a smile
Play'd in his dark blue eye the while.
The pilot mark'd it; at the view
Awestruck, he thus address'd the crew :
-"O friends, unhappy friends, I fear
That you have seized a powerful God;
Wo to our vessel, if it bear
Such captive o'er the watry road.
King Jupiter he seems to be,
Or Phæbus of the silver bow,
Or Neptune, monarch of the sea,
And not a son of earth below.
Even from his form 'tis plain he comes
From high Olympus' heavenly domes.
Haste then, companions, and restore
The immortal stranger to the shore,
Nor farther efforts make
To hold him prisoner, lest his wrath
Should with fierce storms pursue our path,
Or bid the whirlwind wake."
« Fool!" the indignant captain cried,
“Fair blows the wind along the tide ;
Then spread the sail, arrange the yard :
That is thy duty, ours to guard
The captive we have ta’en.
He goes with us; whether we wend
To Egypt, or to Cyprus bend;
Or farther o'er the main,
Reach the cold regions of the North.
At last he will disclose his kin,
And rank, and riches; by his worth
We then shall know what price he'll win.
Steer onward fearlessly; for Heaven
His fate into our hands has given.”
He spoke the mast was raised the sail
Spread bellying to the prosperous gale.
They went—but wonders strange and new
Ere long arose before their view.
First round the sable vessel's side
Gush'd bubbling forth a flood of wine,
Exhaling from its balmy tide
Ambrosial perfume, scent divine.
“An expressive word, as it seems to me, but I fear almost obsolete. It is used by
the translators of the Bible. “And Samson said unto her, if they bind me with seven
green withs, that were never dried,” &c. Judges xvi. 7. and again, verses 8, 9.
VOL. IX.
2 K


266
Bacchus, or the Pirates
[June,
With awe th' affrighted rovers stood,
Gazing upon the magic flood.
Then round the sail, high over heal
A vine its wandering tendrils spread
Deep hung with clustering fruit;
Its clasping arms about the mast
An ivy gemm’d with berries cast
With many a flowery shoot;
And every rower's bench around
Was with a festal chaplet crown'd.
“ Haste, haste, Mededes, gain the shore,”
Loud on the pilot was their cry.
Vain prayer—that refuge they no more
Are destined to espy.
Changed was his form and lo! the Gou
In lion shape the deck bestrode,
With hideous roaring; and a bear
Furr'd in a rugged coat of hair
He raised by wonderous sorcery
In the mid-vessel : where, oh! where
Shall the sad pirates flee?
The bear sprung up—the lion dread
Glared awful from the vessel's head,
They, terror-smitten, turn'd and fled,
And round the unfearing pilot throng--
Unfearing, for he did no wrong.
On rush'd the God in furious mood,
And seized the chieftain of the band ,
The rest, when his dire fate they viewed,
Plungedheadlong plunged, into the flood,
And swam to gain the land.
In vain; the God's resistless force
Changed them to dolphins in their course.
But the just pilot he did bless
With life, and flowing happiness.
“ Thou need’st not fear; thy worth,” he said,
“ A mighty friend in me has made ;
For I am Bacchus, son of Jove,
And Semele, his Theban love."
Hail, son of bright-eyed Semele ; thy praise
Shall still be sung by me in tuneful lays.
I think this bear is rather a superfluous monster ; but a translator must go through
thick and thin with his author. I suspect the passage is interpolated, and recommend
the next editor of the Homeric hymns, to consider the propriety of striking out the lines
marked below in brackets.
L 44.
ο δ' άρα σφι λέων γένετ ένδοθι νηος,
Δεινός επ' ακροτάτης, (μέγα δ'έβραχεν ενδ' άρα μέσση,
"Αρκτον εποιησεν λασιαύχενα, σήματα φαινων"
“Αν δ' έστη μεμαυΐα· λέων δ' επί σέλματος άκρε,
Δεινον υπότρα ιδων] οι δ' εις πρύμνην εφόδηθεν, κ. τ. λ.
There could be many objections made against the enclosed lines, which I leave to my
learned readers (if I have any) to discover, only remarking that the 47th and 48th lines
merely repeat the 44th and 45th. If there were MS. authority of any kind, I should
not hesitate to strike out what I have marked,


1821.]
207
Letter from Christophe, King of Ilayti.
CHRISTOPHE, KING OF HAYTI.
66 Sed quid
Turba Remi 20" “ Sequitur fortunam, ut semper."
Juv.
Since the fall of Christophe, King of Hayti, it has been the fashion, (after the
established custom,) to rail at him as a compound of all bad qualities; with a
-Nunquam, si quid mihi credis, amavi
Hunc hominem ;
Hic Niger est, &c. &c.
Yet evidences can be adduced in his behalf, which may fairly be allowed to
negative anonymous or gratuitous accusations.
If external testimony is to be relied upon, let Colonel Malenfant's account
of Le Clerc's-execrable expedition to St Domingo, in which that officer, (an
old proprietor in the island) bore a part, be consulted on the subject. Fjected
from his plantations, and opposed in arms to the blacks, by whom he had been
dispossessed, he assuredly was not likely to be influenced by any prejudices in
their favour. But a still more correct estimate may, perhaps, be formed from
the subjoined letter, addressed by Christophe himself to a distinguished British
senator, from whom I received it, coupled with the irresistible inference, that,
“if it's writer deserved the name of tyrant, then was that name compatible
with the most earnest desire in a sovereign to promote the improvement and
happiness of his people.” That he had deep feclings, burnt in probably by the
ardours of a tropical sun, and inflamed by long suppression, is proved by his
last act of guilty desperation. With a temperament so irritable, and in a situ.
ation so critical, we may admit him to have been a truly great man, and yet
contemplate without surprise the issue of his regal career. Possibly, from his
very earnestness to advance the public welfare, he might urge forward his
whole system of improvements, political and moral, too impetuously for the
rough and unhinged condition of his new subjects. We know with what dif-
ficulty enterprises of the utmost “ pith and moment,” whether considered in
the light of interest or in that of duty, (e. g. the abolition of the slave trade,)
are accomplished, even in more civilized and Christian realms. The immense
army likewise, which he was compelled to maintain, with perhaps needful, but
highly unpopular strictness of discipline, for the purpose of resisting the inva-
sion menaced by France, and the heavy expenditure invariably accompanying
great military establishments, would cause the yoke of government to press
uneasily on their shoulders. But that he was not constitutionally brutal, or
habitually prodigal, the letter itself will abundantly testify. It proves that the
king of Hayti, if he could not write like an European, certainly did not dictate
like a savage.
His plan of providing schoolmasters, furnished with all the modern compen-
dia of English education, of weaning the entire population, by a rapid transi-
tion froin the language and the religion of France, in order to link its interests
indissolubly with those of Great Britain-however it may be pronounced by
some, a project rather hardy than hopeful-should secure to him, (if it were
but out of gratitude) an indulgent censure from English judgments. That he
had not overrated the capacities of his countrymen, appears from the testimo-
ny of some of the teachers employed. One of these in particular, after a resi-
dence of three or four months, reported to his English patron the unexampled
zeal with which the youth applied themselves to their literary labours; and
added, that “ their success surpassed all his former experience.”
If we would seek more specific causes of his unpopularity, it may be conce-


968
Letter from Christophe, King of Hayti.
(June,
ded perhaps, that he carried the precision and promptitude of the soldier too
strenuously into every branch of his civil authority, and that he was also, pro-
bably, with reference to existing circumstances, too sternly just. But it ought
to be recollected, in his vindication, that only by the compression of military
discipline could he reasonably expect to keep within bounds the passions of his
self-enfranchised and impetuous community; and it is not in embryo legisla-
tors that we can hope to find the delicate apportioning of clemency and equity,
which prevent the summum jus from becoming the summa injuria.
By some it has been asserted, that he did not pay his forces ;' while others
affirm, that he had punished, or threatened to punish, an officer to whom the
troops were devotedly attached.' But it seems more likely, that they had pro-
mised themselves a latitude of indulgence, after their emancipation, inconsist-
ent with all civil government: while he, not improbably with the best of mo-
tives, erred on the side of rigid restraint. They had already tasted the danger-
ous sweets of insubordination; and all the rest followed of course.
What has since taken place in that ill-fated country, affords but too strong a
confirmation of the necessity of an efficient and well-ordered police. Through-
out Hayti, all is at present instability and anarchy. Even the Cape has been
attacked by parties of the disbanded soldiery. The marriages, to the sanctity
of which Christophe had contributed every security in his power, are almost
universally dissolved ; and the institutions of education are wholly at an end.
In a word, every thing seems rapidly hurrying into utter and irremediable con-
fusion.
But your readers will begin to be impatient for the letter.
F. W.
Au Paluis de Sans Soucy 18me. 1816, l'an 13 de l'Independance.
HENRY
Par la grace de Dieu et la Loi Constitutionelle de l'Etat Roi d'Haïty, &c., &c.,
à
Membre du Parlement Britannique, &c. &c.
Mon Ami,
en aucune manière d'aucune affaire po-
Je me sers de l'occasion de M. Chal- litique quelconque de ma part, soit ver-
mers, bomme simple et sur, que j'ai balement ou par écrit ; s'il n'étoit pas
employé à mon service dans sa profes- seulement porteur des dépéches pour
sion, pendant le séjour qu'il a fait a vous et mes
amis, et que puisqu'il n'é-
Haïty, pour vous addresser ma réponse tait revêtu d'aucune qualité officielle,
à vos trois lettres privées et confiden- comment avait-il pu se permettre de
tielles sous les dattes des 14 et 20 Août faire mettre en tête du livre des pièces
dernier. Je l'ai chargé de vous remet- du gouvernement Haïtien, qu'il a fait
tre ma lettre en main propre, et com- imprimer, ces mots-Par Autorité, et
me il compte incessamment revenir à de s'arroger le titre d'agent du gouver-
Haïty, il pourra m'apporter celles que nement Haïtien ? Comment avait-il
vous auriez à m'écrire.
pu se permettre de prendre et de sti-
J'ai deploré la maniere dont le Sieur puler des engagemens avec ces profes-
Prince Sanders s'est conduit en An- seurs ? si ce n'était pas vous seul que
gleterre, et les sujets de chagrin qu'il ce soin regardait? car j'ai vu dans les
vous a donnés ; car quoique par deli- marchés, que c'est lui qui a contracté
catesse vous ne vous soyez pas plaint, les engagemens qui ont été pris, et que
je suis néanmoins instruit de la ma pour attenuer les prétensions qui ont
nière legère, [inconsequente, vaniteuse, été faites, vous les avez sagement laissés
avec laquelle il s'est comporté en An- à ma ratification. Enfin je lui ai de-
gleterre; aussi à son arrivée, en pré- mandé comment avait-il pu promettre
sence de M. Murray et des autres pro- à une infinité des personnes de venir
fesseurs qui sont venus, je lui ai te- à Haïty, où elles auroient été em-
moigné mon mécontentement; et l'ai ployées par le gouvernement sans s'em-
sommé de declarer, s'il avoit été chargé barasser si elles peuvent ou non nous
ESQ.


1821.]
Letter from Christophe, King of Tayti.
269
étre de quelque utilité; comme s'il c'est dans cette langué que je désire
était capable de juger de leurs talens, que vous continuiez toujours à corre-
et s'il pouvait connaître leurs mours spondre avec moi.
et leurs moralités. C'est vous seul, que J'ai dans ma possession les lettres
j'avais chargé, et que je charge encore, crimineuses de Peltier : Je ne vous
du soin de me procurer des maîtres et marquerai pas toutes les épithetes
professeurs, parceque je suis persuadé abominables qu'il vous prodigue, ainsi
d'avance, qu'avant de me les addresser, qu'à nosamis; et toutes les insinuations
vous vous serez assuré de leurs talens, perfides, qu'il m'a faites contre vous
de leurs mæurs, et de leurs moralités. et nos amis. Tant de méchancetés
C'est ainsi qu'au lieu d'un jardinier, m'ont inspiré la plus grande horreur
que j'avais précédemment temoigné le contre lui : Voilà ce qui fait, que je ne
désir d'avoir à Boston, Sanders a fait veux plus avoir aucune correspond-
venir inutilement M. Wetherley dont ance, et que j'ai rompu totalement
nousn'avons pas besoin, et que jen'avais avec un homme aussi pervers. Vous
pas demandé, parce qu'il ne peut nous pensez bien que de semblables atro-
étre d'aucune utilité pour le moment, cités, loin de faire sur mon esprit au-
et dont je fais payer l'aller et le retour. cune impression défavorable contre nos
Vous devez penser, mon ami, qu'il amis, ne font au contraire que redou-
aurait fallu que je fusse dépourvu de bler l'estime et la considération que je
bon sens pour envoyer un homme leur porte: car il est toûjours hono-
comme Sanders, qui n'a pas les moyens rable d'être en but à la haine et à la
ni la capacité requise pour suivre au- calomnie des méchans. Ils ne m'
cune affaire politique: Je sais que le épargnent pas plus que vous. Je vous
tems n'est pas encore venu où je pour- en parle par expérience ; car je me
rai faire cette démarche, telle neces. trouve souvent dans le même cas.
saire qu'elle serait d'ailleurs pour moi : Néanmoins je ressens la plus vive af-
ce serait compromettre et avilir l'au- fliction, et je partage bien sincèrement
torité que d'envoyer un agent sans vos peines, lorsque je vois les désagre-
être assuré s'il serait reçu en cette qua- mens que vous éprouvez pour avoir
lité, et que le gouvernement auquel je embrassé et defendu la plus grande et
l'aurai addressé m'en enverrait un de la plus juste des causes.
son côté. Je laisse à la sagesse et à la Je goûte parfaitement, mon ami,
discretion de mes amis à applanir les vos idées lumineuses sur les grands
difficultés, et à m'instruire lorsque je principes du governement que vous
pourrai faire honorablement cette de- m'exposez: Je suis persuadé de leur
marche.
efficacité pour le bonheur de mes con-
Je veux croire que Sanders n'a pas citoyens ; pour mon propre bonheur,
agi par mechanceté ; mais il n'était, il puisqu'il ne se compose que de celui
ne pourrait pas se regarder autrement de mes concitoyens. Mon application
que comme porteur des paquets pour constante sera de les employer. Je
vous et nos amis. Vous pouvez être ferai tout ce qui sera en mon pouvoir
tranquille sur son compte, il ne re- pour justifier la haute opinion que mes
tournera pas en Angleterre. Je l'ai amis, et vous en particulier, avez con-
employé ici avec Mr Gulliver. çu de moi. Je suis pénétré, mon cher
Je vois avee plaisir, mon ami, la W* *, des sentimens généreux et
manière franché, amicale que vous philanthropiques que vous m'expri-
agissez dans nos communications. mez; et je serais indigne de l'amitié
J'agirai comme vous sans réserve ; et pure que vous m'avez vouée, si je ne
vous verrez que je suis digne d'enten- faisais tous mes efforts pour la mériter,
dre et de connaître la vérité. Vous en suivant les sages conseils que vous
pouvez vous reposer sur la discrétion me donnez.
de mes sécrétaires pour toutes les com Vous voyez avec quelle sollicitude
munications et les ouvertures que vous je m'einpresse à donner le bienfait de
auriez à me faire. Lorsque vous au- l'éducation à mes concitoyens. La nou-
rez quelque chose d'important et de velle méthode me paraît la plus sub-
confidentiel à me faire part, vous pou- lime qu'on puisse employer pour pré-
vez charger une personne dévouée de parer les études. Je suis émerveillé des
votre dépéche, et me l'addresser direc- effets de cette excellente méthode: tous
tement. Je ferai solder religieusement mes soins seront de l'étendre, et de lui
les frais que ces dépenses auront cau- donner à Haïty toute l'extension et
sés. Sanders vous a dit avec raison, l'encouragement possibles.
que j'entends parfaitement l'Anglais : C'est bien aussi mon intention de


270
Letter from Christophe King of Hayti.
[June,
faire delivrer des prix aux éléves, qui plus honnête et le plus éclairé ; bien
se seront distingués: chaque école ou different en cela du clergé Catholique
college aura époque fixée pour la dis- Romain, dont la dissolution des mæurs
tribution des prix, comme celle de l'In- est connue, l'Apôtre et le Defenseur de
dependance, de ma Fête, celle de la l’Esclavage. Je leur ai fait connaître
Reine, de mes enfans, et celle des au- l'enorme difference qui existe entre les
tres jours mémorables de notre révolu- Anglais et les Français, combien ces
tion.
derniers se sont dégénérés et avilis ;
Je me suis efforcé, autant qu'il m'a que lorsqu'on voudrait désigner un
été possible, de faire inculquer les prin- homme vil et faux, l'on devrait dire,
cipes de religion et de morale parmi “ faux comme un Français.” Je sais
mes concitoyens; mais, mon ami, son- cependant, -que généralement parlant,
gez combien un peuple nouvellement il y a des honnêtes gens dans tous les
sorti des ténébres de l'ignorance et de pays; mais presque tous les Français
l'esclavage, qui a éprouvé 25 ans de sé- que nous avons eu occasion de connai-
cousses et de révolutions, a besoin en- tre ne se sont pas montrés à nous sous
core de tems, de soins, et d'efforts, pour des couleurs plus favorables ; qu'au
parvenir à étendre les principes religeux contraire les Anglais adorent leur pa-
et moraux dans toutes les classes de la trie, qu'ils sont si embrasés du patrio-
sociéte. L'objet de ma sollicitude est tisme national, et que la trahison est si
donc de les étendre encore davantage; abhorrée et detestée chez eux, qu'à
mais non pas les principes de cette ré- peine peut-on citer un petit nombre des
ligion défigurée par la fanatisme et la traitres, combien ils sont braves, loyaux,
superstition, mais cette religion que philanthropes, religieux observateurs
vous professez, pleine de l'essence et de deleur parole, qu'il suffirait à un Anglais
l'humanité de son divin auteur. Il y a de jurer sur la Bible, pour être cru
longtems que je désire la voir établie à sur sa parole : qu'on n'avait jamais eu
Haïty.
d'example qu'ils avaient faussé leurs
Par la consideration et le respect paroles ou leur affirmations si solennel-
dont j'ai entouré les liens du Mariage, lement données ; qu'on ne pouvait pas
je n'ai qu'à me louer de l'empressement en dire autant des Français et des Ca-
dle mes concitoyens à les former, et des tholiques Romains, qui faisaient jour-
heureux résultats qu'ils ont pour la nellement profanation des choses repu-
morale.
tées les plus saintes parmi eux ; que le
La Tolérance est établie à Haïty. Je souverain, qui se qualifie du fils aîné
permets à chacun la liberté de servir de l'Eglise, n'a pas craint de laisser sig-
Ja Divinité à sa manière. J'étendrai, s'il ner par son ministre, sans provocation
est nécessaire, les effets de cette tolé- comme sans insulte, la mort de 400
rance, en lui donnant la plus grande mille de mes concitoyens pour pourvoir
latitude. Je suis pénétré, et je sens la à repeupler notre pays avec nos mal-
necessite de changer ce queles manières heureux frères transplantés d'Afrique ;
et les habitudes de mes concitoyens peu- que ce souverain, qui sedit si religieux,
vent encore conserver de semblables à a envoyé de vils espions pour intriguer,
celle des Français, et de les modeller semer le trouble et la confusion dans
sur les manières et les habitudes An- notre pays tranquille; qu'il ne travaille
glaists. La culture de la littérature qu'au rétablissement des prejugés et
Anglaise dans nos écoles, dans nos col- de l'esclavage jusque même dans son
leges, fera prédominerentin, je l'espère, propre pays.
la langue Anglaise sur la Française: Enfin, je désire que mes concitoyens
ce'st le seul inoyen de conserver notre puissent posséder les vertus des Anglais
indépendance, que de n'avoir absolu- pour leur propre bonheur.
ment rien de commun avec une nation Les Haïtiens aiment généralement
dont nous avons tant à nous plaindre, et les Anglais ; c'est le seul peuple, avec
dont les projets ne tendent qu'à notre qui ils puissent mieux compâtir: mes
destruction. Il y a long tems que je dé- concitoyens feront tout ce que je leur
sire que la langue Anglaise soit la lan- conseillerai, car ils sont entièrement
gue nationale de mon pays. J'en ai tou- persuadés, que mes conseils n'ont pour
jours parlé à mes concitoyens : Je leur but que leur bonheur. J'emploierai
ai toujours fait sentir la necessité de mon influence, les leçons puissantes de
n'avoir absolument rien de commun avec l'exemple pour les amener à ce point
la nation Francaise, d'embrasser la si désiré ; et je suis d'avance assuré,
religion Anglicane comme la plus su- qu'ils se porteront avec joie à cette
blime, etant celle où l'on trouve géné- grande réforme quand le temps en sera
ralement le clergé le plus vertueux, le arrivé : c'est à dire lorsque la connais-


1921.]
Letter from Christophe, King of Huyli.
271
sance de la langue Anglaise sera répan- le Sieur Evans. Je souhaite que vous
due dans une partie de la population, acceptiez ce gage de mon amitié avec
ce qui ne sera pas longtems-d'après autant de plaisir que j'en ai eu à rece-
la méthode de Lancastre, et d'après les voir le vôtre, et que vous puissiez les
heureux dispositions que montrent les considérer comme ceux de deux de vòs
eléves qui s'intruirent sous Mr Gulli- plus sincères amis.
ver.
J'ai appris avec la plus grande peine,
Je désire de tout mon cæur que les et j'ai été desappointe, que le but pour
souhaits que vous faites pour le bon- lequel j'avais addressé dernièrement
heur et l'instruction des Haïtiens puis- des confitures en Angleterre a totale-
sent se réaliser ! Puissiez vous à votre ment manqué par l'indiscretion de San-
tour, ô mon ami, vous enorgueillir des ders ne pouvant connaître a quelle
vertus et de la civilisation de ce peuple, somme se seroient élevés les droits
dont vous aurez été un des bienfaiteurs! Mr Strafford m'avait cependant promis
Croyez, que leur reconnaisance sera d’écrire à cet effet.
eternelle : croyez aussi, que ma pen, Je vous prie, mon ami, de me faire
sée sera sans cesse portée vers le grand agréer dans la Société de l'Institution
but pour lequel vous désirez les voir Afriquaine, dans celle de la Société de
eléver-en effet, combien je m'estime la Bible Anglaise et Etrangère, et dans
rai hereux de les voir contribuer à vos celle de l'Ecole Anglaise et Etrangère;
vues, en vous aidant à perfectionner et si toutefois il n'y aurait pas d'impossi-
ameliorer le sort de nos frères d'Afrique. bilité-et alors vous le feriez de la ma-
J'ai reçu et agrée, mon ami, avec nière que vous croirez le plus convena-
sensibilité, votre portrait, que vous m'ble. Lorsque les lettres de change, que
avez addressé : il me tardait de possé- je compte vous addresser, vous par-
der les traits d'un de nos plus vertueux viendront, vous pourrez faire couvrir
amis. En retour, et d’apres le désir les frais, que cette admission aura ne-
que vous m'avez temoigné, je vous en cessités.
voie le mien, et celui de mon fils le Je suis et demeure tout à vous,
Prince Royal, que j'ai fait peindre par
Votre Ami.
THE MANIAC'S PLAINT.
I see my
My heart throbs on from day to day;
Mine eyes they never close in sleep;
loved companions gay,
Yet all my solace is to weep;
For, clothed in melancholy deep,
My heart may well afflicted be,
Since Time can bring
Upon his wing
No earthly joy to me!!-
I'll twine my brow with willow wreathe ;
I'll place the cypress in my breast;
I'll sit upon his tomb, and breathe
My plaint to him that loved me best ;
When brooding storms obscure the west,
How sweet beneath the willow tree,
If, while I sing,
The lightning's wing
Should come to set me free!
The ravens sit, a clamorous troop,
Upon the mouldering Abbey tower ;
Hark! as the owl sends forth her whoop
From danky vaults that form her bower;
Soon, at the silent midnight hour,
Lone men shall mark, amid the gloom,
In dim affright,
A lambent light
Glide slowly o'er my tomb.


272
The Maniac's Plaint.
June,
Beloved youth! since thou art gone,
No hope bestirs my bosom, save,
When dark existence all is flown,
To join thee in the quiet grave;
And when the wandering breezes wave
The forests in the cold moonshine,
When all is still,
My spirit will,
Unseen, converse with thine !!
RURAL SECLUSION.
A Sketch.
How splendidly! with what a glorious light,
Beyond the summits of yon forest deep,
The sun descends, tinging its boughs with flame !
The western tent around him glows, and far
Up the steep cope of heaven outstretching bright,
Dart the red lines with soft decaying glow.
How utter is the solitude around!
How wild, and how forlorn! It is a scene,
Which stern Salvator, with a kindling eye,
Might long have gazed unsated, treasuring up
A throng of omens dark, and desolate thoughts:
Nor motion of one living thing dispels
The breathless and unstirring loneliness,
Nor insect’s hum, nor vesper song of bird,
Nor sound of lapsing stream; the evening breeze,
Sighing along, just passes o'er the flowers
of the dark heather, and subsides to peace:
There is no trace of human step, no mark
Of man's dominion here ; these mossy rocks,
These lichen’d stones, all purple-tinged and blue,
These deep-brow'd rocks, and that dim weedy pool,
Mayhap from Time's remotest chronicling,
Untouch'd have lain, and undisturb’d and lone!
The ptarmigan, when wintry frosts were o’er,
And skies were blue, may here have sunn'd herself,
The red-deer taken up a night's abode,
Or the lithe adder roli’d; it may have been,
That in the gloom of olden times austere,
Beneath that arching rock, the Eremite,
Shunning communion, may have dwelt alone,
Till human speech was, to his vacant ear,
Like vision to the blind, a thing gone by;
Saw, o'er yon far-off hills, the waning light
Of the last setting sun that shone for him,
In loneliness outstretch'd his wither'd limbs,
And, dying, left his bones to whiten there !
Or, it may be, when Persecution's rage
Pursued the champions of the Covenant,
In ages less remote, on this lone mount,
At earliest sunrise, or beneath the stars,
The suffering martyrs gathered, from the looks
Of unrepining zeal in each worn face,
-As each on each they gazed with searching eyes
To glean rekindled ardour; here perhaps,
-And sanctified if such the spot must be ! -
Kneeling they pray’d; for Scotland's hills and dales,
Pour'd out their hearts, for liberty of soul,
And for serener times.
11
A


1821.7
273
The Spring Morning's Walk.
THE SPRING MORNING's
S WALS.
Lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone. The flowers appear on the earth ; the
time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land.
The fig-tree putteth forth her green figs, and the vines with the tender grape give a
good smell.
Song of Solomon, chap. II.
THERE is something inexpressibly The fields are clothed in a mantle
delightful in the aspect of a spring of delicate green, the young wheat
morning; to awake from refreshing shoots up its tender and exuberant
slumber, and behold the crimson sun- blades, through the bosom of the dark
shine streaming through the casement mould, moist with the dews that have
in long oblique lines, where myriads fallen during the silent watches of the
of motes are observed dancing to and night; while still, upon the distant
fro in mazy movements, and listen to loftier grounds the slow motion of the
the brisker crow of chanticleer from ploughs may be perceived, and the
beneath, and the flap of his golden dark furrows which they are leaving
wings. The chirpings and noisy bick- behind. The herige-rows have now all
erings of the sparrows are heard from assumed an emerald hue, and the
the neighbouring roofs; and, at in- crows, issuing from the forest, alight
tervals, the distant voice of the linnet on the tops of the trees, and fill the
breaks melodiously in, and fills the air with the sound of their ceaseless
pauses of the concert.
and diseorılant cries.
But let us out to the morning air ; What alteration does this landscape
let us enjoy the freshness of the breeze, present from what it was but a brief
and the delicate warmth of the sun space ago! These banks, now green-
shine ; let us brush the dews of morn- ed over with the budding briars, and
ing from the grass, and respire the with the fine leaves of the hawthorn,
very essence of health in the cool sa- forming a pleasant contrast with its
lubrious air. Forth from his cloudy dark boughsnow spotted with white
bondage the great Apollo hath burst- daisies, and with yellow king-cups,
ed, a clear hue pervades every sur-
with dandelions, and a variety of wild
rounding object; but, as yet, a light flowerets, were frozen, and cold, and
veil of mist hangs over the bosom of barren, decorated here and there with
the stream, and encircles the sides and a few tufts of tall rank grass, sere and
summits of the far off hills, as with a rustling in the wind, and with some
coronal of unillumined glory. The bleak leafless boughs drooping and me-
blades of the young grass glitter, and lancholy, topped with the funeral ber-
are gemmed with a thousand tiny ries of the dog-rose. From these rocks
pearls of dew; while the fresh buds depended a thousand icicles. The
have that glutinous appearance, which course of the rivulet from above was
indicates their vigour and healthiness. marked out by a long white stripe,
How lovely is the appearance of a winding down the steep, and edged
vernal wood! a garland of green seems with a multitude of fantastic figures,
to be woven round the branches that wrought with a magical effect, and a
were lately so dark, and barren, and fairy brilliancy. Over the surface of
bare, through which the wintry wind the stream, the giant Frost had extend-
whistled bleak and desolate, or which ed his polar sceptre, and taught "the
bent beneath the burthen of the fea- ice-chained waters to slumber on the
thery snows. There is something shore.” But now, with a gentle and
cheering and delightful in the sight; melodious ripple, the gushing streams
something that, in almost audible lan- pass down between their verdant banks,
guage, speaks to the heart of the hopes with a soft blue tinge on the surface,
of renovation ; something that tells us glittering in the genial sunshine ; and
that there may yet be a triumph over broken here and there by the enlarging
decay; something that whispers to us circles caused by the leaping of the
of the departed blessings of early days; trout, after the tiny insects that wan-
something, in short, so congenial to ton above.
the feeling, as to form an antidote to Nature, animate and inanimate,
the cares that press upon the spirit, seems to have partaken of the genial
and to the forebodings of gloom that influences of the season. The focks
darken the prospects of futurity. are gambolling amid the pastures, and
Vol. IX.
2 L


274
The Spring Morning's Walk.
[June,
<<
each mother following its larnb, with rily in its downward path, and is swal-
coat as white as snow. The cattle are lowed in the gulph of darkness and
bome nibbling the tender herbage, and oblivion.
others ruminating their food with list How lovely, from this eminence,
less pleasure. Some, with their faces looks the far off surface of the ocean;
turned toward “the shining day,” and calm as a lake, and outspreading its
some, reclining amid the stumps of capacious bosom to the radiance of the
yon aged trees. How grandly does that morning sun. The world of waters
magnificent mansion yet look forth seems also to acknowledge the influ-
amid its ruins over the wide chase, ence of the advancing year, and in to-
once subject to those, who took up ken of its reverence stills its ruffled
their abode within. Alas! “ Time waters into peace. The rocks that rise
hath wrought strange alteration, and from its bosom still appear dark and
the tempests and the sunshine of cen- frowning, but the casual gleam of the
turies have not beat and burned upon sea-birds wing points them out as not
its roofs in vain. Where is now the being a joyless abode.
pomp, and the pride, and the circum But, let us turn from the mightiness
stance“ of state,' the appliances, and which hath perished, to the contem-
the means to boot;" the retainers that plation of the lowliness that now pros-
thronged the hall, to whose wassail pers. How cheerful looks that range
voices the vaulted roofs often re-echoed of thatched cottages; the blue smoke
at midnight; the staghounds that cum- itself, that wreathes from the chimney,
bered the parlour-floor? Where is the seems an emblem of the domestic com-
steer that neighed in the stall, and the fort enjoyed within ; and the sunshine,
lord that rode him to the field ? All clothing the white walls, and the glit-
have passed away like a morning dream; tering lattice, adds a cheerfulness to
and these lone, and bare, and desolate the grace of the exterior. The small
walls, over which the long grass waves, gardens before the doors, free from
and the stalks of the gilly-flower shoots weed and stone, bespeak the “ sleep-
greenly, remain a gigantic sepulchre less hand of industry.” The pease
of the majesty of ancient days. Shrubs have already shot their taper lengths
and bushes, here and there, amid the far above the soil, and the neatly trim-
scattered ruins of what were once en- med gooseberry bushes have all their
closures, lift up their wild branches, prickly branches garlanded with leaves,
proclaiming more distinctly the wrecks and studded with the incipient fruit.
and the ravages of Time-like frag- The flower-plot now exhibits a variety
ments of a perished vessel floating in of colour, and emits a mingled richness
the boundless deep after a tempest. of perfume. The crocus here opens a
The buds and young leaves expand- yellow and there a blue calice." The
ing on the chesnut trees—that once snow-drop, the earliest daughter of
formed an avenue to the baronial man- the spring, has already passed the me-
sion-seem to tell that the works of artridian of its beauty, and droops like a
may change, but that the beauties of forsaken girl. The wall-flower already
nature are of a more durable kind; begins to protrude its rich yellow
and spreading their branches, as if in flowers, tinged with iron brown."
derision, form a magnificent portico to The gentle primrose, like a beauty too
a temple, that hath passed away. modest and diffident to be gazed at,
It is the season of spring, the season bends down to hide its sweets amid its
of renewed beauty, and grace. The girdle of green leaves; while the dark-
sky has assumed its vernal azure; the cyed violet, still more lowly, seeks to
white stainless clouils sail gracefully shelter itself beneath them. Here the
athwart its bosom; the sun shines dark, strong-scenteil spearmint diffu-
with renovated splendour, and the ses its perfumes, and there the never-
birds sing in ebullience of heart. But fading thyme stretches along, forming
all is still, and stirless here ; the glory an odoriferous border.
of man is like a rainbow that over Placed against the sunny wall stands
arches the fall of a stream, and through- on its platform the conical hive, a lit-
out the live-long day looks in beauty tle kingdom, alive with the hum of its
and brilliance at the glowing sun ; but inhabitants, who are entering and de-
fades away as he sets, and then sinks parting in never-ending succession,
to nothingness ;- it is like that of a rifling the sweets of every blossom,
shooting star, which blazes momenta- and laying up, with a patient indus-


1821.]
The Spring Morning's Walk.
275
try, and indefatigable toil, their ho- death delayed so long to release him,
nied store.
and looked forward to this quiet field
Oh! who can gaze around at such of graves, as to the asylum, where all
a season as this, when the beauties of his sorrows were to find repose.
nature, bursting, phænix-like from The gentle breeze wantons among
their wintry sepulchre, expand in all the grass, and the wild-flowers, stir-
the loveliness of reanimated beauty- ring them into a beautiful agitation ;
and then can allow the burden of sel- but all beneath is dark, and silent, and
fish misery to press upon the soul, unlovely. The sky is bright above, an
when the sun shines, and the lark azure canopy, deep and glorious, but
sings from the clouds, when the dew the shadow of despondency dwells be-
glitters on the green herb, and the neath. Nature rejoices in the reno-
snow-like blossoms expand on the vation of her sweets, the trees bud,
tree, and every sight and every sound the flowers blow, and the birds sing,
breathes harmony and happiness ? the air re-assumes its vernal warmth,
But, let us turn our steps to the and the waters their glassy smooth-
churchyard, let us enter the silent ness; but alas ! in this world at least,
porch, and gaze on the melancholy there is no second spring in human
scene. Not to quench the pure flame life. Like the water of a river, that
of spiritual light, which vernal beauty flows on amid the pomp of forests and
kindles in the breast, but to shade its green fields, through landscapes of
intemperance with a tender and a mo- light, and grandeur, and beauty, to
ralizing gloom. Oh, when shall spring the brink of a precipice, where they
reanimate the ashes of the departed ! flash in the sunshine, and descende
“Oh, when shall morn dawn on the nighting, vanish to darkness for ever!
of the grave!”
But far be all despairing thoughts
from the contemplation of a vernal
The shadow of the house of prayer falls landscape. If a man die, shall he not
long and dim over the green graves, rise again? both nature and revelation
the white tomb-stones, and the fus declare that he shall; that having
nereal shrubs, as if it took them all un, passed over the boundaries of Time's
der its silent protection ; and, varying finite empire, he will take up his abode
continually with the varying day, covers in the mansions of Eternity.
them each in turn with its unsubstan It is but natural, however, that
tial wing, as it were the spirit of religion when we cast our eye over the renew-
brooding over, and rendering pregnant ed beauty of the material world, that
with hope the mansions of the dead, we should heave a sigh of regret for
of those who slumber in hope, and those who roamed with us through the
who will burst forth to renewed life woods, and green meadows, when life
at the sound of the last trumpet, when was young, and every avenue of the
the voice of the Archangel shall pro- heart open to the influence of pleasure-
claim that “ Time shall be no more !" able feelings; and who are now scat-
Here all are alike, and the slave is freed tered far from us over the surface of a
from his master. No sorrow enters, waste and weary world. How many,
and no care molests. The old and the alas! that noticed with us the first
young, the selfish and the amiable, all appearance of the virgin snow-drop,
that adds a dignity to, and bestows a and the “ wandering voice” of the
lustre on human nature, with all that cuckoo, are now in the silent grave,
debases, and lowers it down to the le- callous alike to the glories of the year,
vel of poor mortality, are here met in or the icy rigour of the wintry tem-
one common resting-place. Here re pest. From our sensitive regret for
pose the ashes of those, who, flushed the past, even the recollection of de-
with the brilliancies of hope, looked parted years seems embalmed with a
far forward down the vista of happy serener, but a more passionate, and
days, who said unto care
« be far
warmer glow, than what we now feel
from me," and unto fear, “ I know and perceive; we are apt to imagine
thee not;" who forgot the past in the that the change is in nature, that the
anticipation of the future, and felt fields are less green, that the summer
that the world was all before them, day is less glorious and bright, that
where to choose ; and here the wretch, the murmur of the river is less musi-
who, bowed down by the burthen of cal, and the note of the nightingale
misfortune, and the pelting of adver- less replete with plaintive melancholy;
city's pitiless storm, wondered why nor think of finding the change, not


276
The Spring Morning's Walk.
June,
in external sights and sounds, but in I have composed the following stanzas,
our own bosoms.
with which I will conclude my wan-
From the impression of this truth, dering speculations.
“ Oh! where," says the Spirit of Life to my soul,
“ Is the ravage and wreck thou deplorest ?
The sky spreads its azure in tender repose,
The stream of the mountain in melody flows;
The spring smiles in beauty, and summer bestows
A wreath of green leaves on the forest.
* The landscape around thee is sprinkled with flowers ;
The mountains are blue in the distance;
Like a mote in the sunshine the lark flits away;
The insects, a numberless host, are at play,
And opening their delicate wings to the day,
Rejoice in the gift of existence.
• Or look to the sea, and its emerald isles
All joyous its flocks are in motion;
The plovers their limitless march have begun,
O'er the sands like a field-beaten army they run,
And flashing the white of their wings to the sun,
Like arrows descend to the ocean.
“ Were the smiles of the universe ever more fair?
No! something proclaims to thee-never !
But Time looks beneath with a haughty disdain,
And silently steals link by link from the chain;
'Tis thy heart which hath alter'd ; thou lookest in vain
For the change, in what lasteth for ever.”
THE COT IN THE GLEN.
Oh ! 'tis not the star of the evening o'ertopping
With fairy bright radiance the dim azure hill,
The green forests far np the wide valley sloping,
The gleam of the lake, or the sound of the rill,
That tempt me at twilight to wander thus lonely,
So far from the din and the bustle of men ;
A magic, a magic, that charms for me only,
Surrounds with its halo yon cot in the glen!
How sweet, far remote from all tumult and danger,
It were, in this valley to pass the long year,
In friendship and peace lift the latch to the stranger,
And chase off the anguish of pale sorrow's tear!
To roam out at morn, when the young sun is shining,
When birds are awake, and flocks bleat in the pen;
And to catch his last beams, with my loved one reclining
In the bower, by the side of you cot in the glen.
Oh! Mary, thou know'st not how often a pleasure
In crowds thy soft image hath given to my heart !
Like the spirit that wanders beside buried treasure,
My steps ever lead to the spot where thou art:
Oh! soon may the day come-if come it will ever !
The brightest and best in futurity's ken,
When fate may ordain us no longer to sever,
Sweet girl of my heart, from the cot in the glen!


1821.]
277
The Summer Night's Reverie.
THE SUMMER NIGHT'S REVERIE.
I would recall a vision which I dream'd
Perchance in sleep for in itself a thought,
A slumbering thought is capable of years,
And curdles a long life into one hour.
BYRON.
MINE eyes did never see a moonlight night
So purely beautiful; the skies were blue,
Without a stain of cloud, and, twinkling bright,
The thin stars wore an evanescent hue;
I gazed, and gazed ; far off the mighty bílls
Their hoary brows uprear'd ; the silent woods
Without a sound outspread their solitudes,
Darkly umbrageous; the descending rills
Glitter'd with fitful light; it was a scene,
So magical it look'd, and soʻserene,
That brought to mind old Fairyland ; beside
My lattice, with the woodbine canopied,
Long did I sit and gaze, and thought my fill;
And ere the midnight chime the dews of sleep
Fell not upon my eye-lids; all was still,
And, as I mused, I could not chuse but weep
As, thronging in upon me bright and fast,
Came, clothed in light, the visions of the past.
Sleep bound me in his chains, and lo! a dream
Came o'er my heart, with its fantastic dyes
All rain-bow tinctured, and the whole did seem
To settle to a calm, bright paradise :
Flowers gemm'd the path, and over-head blue skies
Outspread their lucid canopy ; tall trees,
The cedar, and the chesnut, and the palm,
Their mighty arms expanded, and the breeze
Kiss'd them in passing, and an odorous balm
From bloomy beds in rich varieties
Loaded the gale.
Methought I stood with thee,
Arm link'd in arm, and down a vista green
We gazed delighted, where far off were seen,
Crowning a rosy knoll with symmetry,
A woodbined cottage, while the light blue smoke
Mounted up tranquilly, and wreathed away
To nothingness, and far behind it broke,
Reddening the west, the setting orb of day.
Then did we turn, and gaze upon the lake
Sleeping in all the bright and glowing hues
Which the last beams of summer suns infuse
Into the waters; here the swans did break
With snowy breast its glassiness; and there
The lily lifted to the wooing air
Its white and azure beauties, and its stem
Girdled with leaves, almost as fair as them:
The swallow, with its shrill and twittering note,
Darted along its surface, and the trout,
After the skimming insects leaping out
From its cool home, made round about it float
A thousand widening rings.
My heart was full
To surfeiting of joy, and I did look
Into thine eyes, and on thy cheek, and took
A draught of love, for thought did ever cull
Some fancied charın, thou wert so beautiful ! -


278
The Summer Night's Reverie.
[June,
Methought, that none for many a weary mile
Were near, nor aught around us to destroy
This seat of bliss, this paradise of joy,
Illumin'd ever by love's golden smile :-
For us alone the bright boughs blossom'd round;
For us alone the young flowers prank'd the ground;
The evening shed its rosy tints; the birds
Chaunted their hymns of joy from every tree';
For us alone the never idle bee
Treasured its honey'd store ; our very words
Savour'd of luxury and sweetness, more
Than speech can tell ; to love, and to adore
Each other, and uncheck'd to wander free,
Our only care and duty seem'd to be!
Methought, I ponder'd on the vanish'd scenes
Of noisy cities, and the haunts of men;
Of knavish cunning; of the fool who leans
On sandy piles ; of sin within its den ;
Of Jealousy ; and Grief that wails aloud ;
Of Care that walks amid the smiling crowd
With heavy heart ; of Penury that pines
In roofless hovels, where the shower descends;
Of pale Disease, whom Pain the torturer rends,
Inch after inch, from life that slow declines;
And dark Remorse, with wild and bloodshot eye,
Clenching his sinewy hands in agony !-
Shuddering I turn'd, and saw thee at my side,
Watching my looks ;-these ills had pass'd away,
Like mists before the glorious dawn of day,
And left our hearts and souls beatified,
Without a care, without a fear to roam,
Scenes pregnant with a most unearthly joy,
Where grief could never come, nor cares destroy,
With one sad thought, the blessings of our home!
Thought had no entrance here of yew-trees dark,
Of church-yards sombre, and of wormy graves,
Of melancholy vaults, and dripping caves;
And on each brow, where Youth had set his mark,
Methought a gentle silentness did lie,
Which spoke the vigour of eternity;
When lo! as gazing on a silver cloud,
We stood admiring, from the heaven it came
Lower and lower, and a tongue of flame
Glow'd in its centre; and, at length, it bow'd
Its volume to the earth, and broader grew
The central light; while, from its inner shrine,
Stepp'd shining forth, with countenance divine,
A radiant Angel, and he look”d at me
As if in pity; then he took thy hand,
And bade thee go with him; he waved his wand,
Ånd the dim voluines of the chariot-cloud
Closed upon both, concealing like a shroud
His radiance, and thy beauty; and it rose
Majestical, as doth the eagle dun,
When bent to drink the fountains of the sun,
And round its path unmingled splendour glows.-
There, as with throbbing heart, and stedfast gaze,
I watch'd its quick ascent, methought it grew
A speck, within the empyrean blue,
Fainter and fainter waned upon my sight,
And melted in the lucid arch of night!


1821.)
The Summer Night's Reverie.
279
Dismay'd, discomfited, I kept mine eye
Fix'd on the space, where I had seen thee last;
And, gazing through the dim and empty sky,
Stood statue-like, all silent, and aghast ;-
Sudden the clouds roll’d o'er the hemisphere;
The sunshine was not; and an inky hue
Blotted the stars, and heaven's serener blue;
The lake rose up in madness loud and drear,
Lashing to foam its huge and billowy tide,
Heaving and sinking, dark, and dim-descried ;
The forest, with a melancholy sound,
Waved to and fro its wide umbrageous boughs,
Till the tall oaks fell crashing; and around
As if of time I saw the final close;
Bright flash'd the lightnings, and the thunders spoke
Awfully deep-I trembled, and awoke !
A
ON THE ALLEGED DECLINE OF DRAMATIC WRITING.
If we may be allowed to judge of them down with an increased tenden-
the feelings of others by our own, the cy to the same opinion, so much the
lovers of the drama will feel no little better.
pleasure in the publication of Moore's Taking into one view the whole
Sheridan. * Its very announcement range of the British drama, it has al-
was like a ray of sunshine through a ways seemed to me that the great and
cloudy sky. Nor is the satisfaction it injurious change, (for change there has
affords much abated by the omission been) in this species of writing, was
of the promised life. I, for my part,
a sudden one. It was one of the many
would much rather read it unconnect- evils, great and small, which flowed in
ed with his works. Sheridan is alrea- at the Restoration, and one of the
dy a classic ; and to see his plays sim- most incurable. If the French taste,
ply collected and printed upon good as well as the Romish religion, could
paper, with Mr Davison's best types, have been sent back with James the
is quite“ a fillip," as old ladies say, to Second to St Germains, it would have
all whoare suffering under adesponden- been of little consequence. But the
cy occasioned by the decline of the dra- Commonwealth was an inter-regnum
ma. The greatest croakers on this score in the drama as well as in the mo-
must, at least, make an exception in narchy; an easy way was prepared by
favour of Richard Brinsley Sheridan. the fanaticism of the Puritans, and the
He may shine, like Claudian, perhaps, thing, when once adopted, could not
in the midst of an age of darkness- be dismissed again sans ceremonie, like
but that is another thing. He is still an unpopular family, or persecuted in-
a "column in the melancholy waste" to silence like an obnoxious religion.
- stray diamond washed
up
from The dramatic writings of the period
the waters of oblivion upon a shore of between Elizabeth and Charles the
pebbles. There has, after all, been Second, are confessedly the glory of
too much wailing and lamentation the literature of this country. They
about this imputed dwindling of dra- are no where else to be paralleled.
matic intellect. I must own I have They are unique. Springing, as it
better hopes on this head than many were, naturally; the indigenous and
of my neighbours; nor has a cool con- spontaneous growth of the soil,--they
sideration of the question at all dimi- have all the vigour with the perfection
nished the force of these consolatory of Nature. The plays of Shakespeare,
conclusions. Should the readers, if and of the other lights of the olden
any, of the following remarks, lay time, will be found, if critically ex-
· The Dramatic Works of the Right Hon. R. B. Sheridan, now first collected and
edited, with a Preface, by Thomas Moore, Esq. 2 vols. 8vo. Murray, London, 1321.


280
On the alleged Decline of Dramatic Writing. [June,
amined, to be written on principles competition with those of the period
philosophical, and yet simple,-stri- since the accession of the house of
king, and yet recondite. In their treat- Hanover. The wits of Anne must
ment of the tragic, which is itself ele- be taken into the account. With this
vated nature, that is to say, a repre- brilliant and extensive era, the present
sentation of events essentially exalted state of the drama cannot, I fear, be
and deeply interesting; the poetical compared without disadvantage. I
exaggeration is uniformly suppressed must venture to contend, however, that
and kept down, in compliance with our the comparison will not be found to be
common ideas of the natural. The feel- of so trying a nature as many persons
ings of the reader, or spectator, are at are inclined to suppose.
tracted and engaged by the strongest Contrary to the opinion of most cri-
and most familiar language, used to tics, it will, I believe, be found, that it
convey the most poetical thoughts and is in tragic talent that the dramatic
boldest metaphors. The natural ten- literature of the present day is most
dency of tragedy to bombast and de- deficient. In fact, there is a general
clamation, is sobered by the admixture deficiency in tragedy, from the times
of thoughts, and phrases, and words, of the Restoration ; but to that period,
which are common and familiar. Lear, which includes Otway and Southern,
the deserted and powerless king, and the preponderance must without doubt
broken-hearted father, is throughout be conceded. If we go over the list
the whole sublimity of his sorrows of worthies, who wrote during the life-
still “ a very foolish fond old man time of the merry monarch and his
threescore and upwards.” Humanity successor, we have first in name, Dry,
is never lost sight of. In their come- den, then Lee, Otway, Shadwell, and
dy, on the contrary, the events of com- others. Of these, if we except Otway,
mon life are continually heightened scarcely one has left a tragedy which
by a junction with the poetical and ro- has continued to keep possession of the
mantic. Even the melancholy and sar- stage. Dryden's rhyming plays, in
castic Jaques, who abruptly quits Or- spite of their nervous poetry, and fine
lando with a “God be wi' you, an you versification, soon died" of a surfeit
talk in blank verse,” is, for the most of bad taste.” His All for Love was
part, made to talk blank verse him- long popular, and is certainly a piece
self.
of fine poetical passages. It has not,
In these wholesome principles the I believe, been played for many years.
Frenchified wits of Charles the Second Shadwell's Don John was endured
effected a radical change. The roman- probably for the sake of the excite-
tic was transferred from comedy to ments of the story of that popular
tragedy; and in comedy, mere wit or profligate. Nat. Lee's Alexander, with
slang became the substitute for the all its extravagance, is a favourite to
poetical. Since that time it has be- the present hour ; his other pieces are
come a sort of solecism to talk of the much inferior. The most powerful
Comic Muse. The greatest stretch of tragedy, however, of that time, is per-
definition can hardly include the au- haps the “Edipus” of Lee and Dry-
thor of a modern comedy amongst the den, a composition of wonderful
poets. The novelist has a much bet- strength, but which, on account of
ter right, and Joe Miller almost as its subject, modern fastidiousness has
good a one. In tragedy, the lofty, and long banished from the stage. In
yet natural characters of Shakespeare, truth, after Venice Preserved, and the
Fletcher, Marlow, and Massinger, were Orphan, until Southern, Lillo, and
deserted for declamatory lovers - long- Congreve had written, the drama by
winded and drawling compositions of no means abounded in talent. The
bombast and metaphysics-ladies and Fatal Marriage, Oroonoko, Fatal Cu-
gentlemen with their mouths full of riosity, and then the Mourning Bride,
unintelligible professions of impossible and the Revenge, and Zara, soon
performances. The amour of comedy followed, together with the plays of
had become a witty profligacy, and not Rowe, which last ought not, however,
seldom a ribald licentiousness. Such to be classed as first-rate. Tamerlane,
were the dramatic fruits of the age of Jane Shore, and Calista, are most re-
Charles the Second. But it is not the markable for their smooth and often
dramatists of that and the succeed- cloying versification. Their diction is
ing reign only, that are to be put in tumid, however, though correct, and
12


1821.] On the alleged Decline of Drumatic Writing.
281
seems
to class them with Phillips' Distrest maxiins of the French School, and it
Mother, and Addison's Cato, would would seem that he was so vain as
not perhaps be injustice to any of hardly to conceal his preference of his
them.
own sonorous but declamatory and
Some of the tragedies of this period pompous speeches to the dialogue of
seem to have been written with a view Shakespeare. The later plays of the
to the Shakespearian manner of in- last reign, however, become more
terposing prose dialogue, of a light and more free from that pompous
and comic character, in order to re- and formal interlocution, and smooth
lieve the tragic scenes. The ill suc- and monotonous versification, which
cess, or rather the vile taste with which Rowe carried to the utmost. Dr
this is invariably done, strongly shews Johnson's Irene is perhaps the last
the depravity which then infected the perfect specimen of the old school of
drama. The ribaldry with which Ot- tragedy. Logan's Runnimede, Dou-
way has mixed up Venice Preserved, glas, and Greathead's Regent, are all
is incredible almost, to those who are written with evident struggles after
only acquainted with the play “as the freedom of the earlier dramatists.
acted."
The latter is especially so. I remem-
Shadwell's Don John is as bad, and ber the Monthly Review, which
Isabella is injured by an admixture to have as violent a horror of innova-
somewhat similar. But the most pro- tion in poetry as the Quarterly has
voking specimen of all is D'Avenant in government, is much shocked by
and Dryden’s alteration of the Tem- somebody in this play telling another
pest. With an inconceivable degene- to
racy of taste, the exquisite romance of “Go to the huddled market-place, and
Shakespeare, which seems to come as
there
near poetical perfection as human in- Dissect thy heart upon the public sham-
firmity will permit, is dismembered
bles ;''-
for the admission of new characters,
and more fashionable dialogue, and a mode of expression coarse enough,
the air of the enchanted island of Pros- no doubt, for persons of weak nerves.
pero and his daughter infected with The current has continued some-
the breath of that Covent Garden what to increase as it flowed. Even
slang, which, more or less, tainted al- Mrs Yearsley the milkwoman's tragic
most every play of the period. specimens, are by no means milk and
During the succeeding reigns of the water matters. Of Miss Hannah More's
monarchs of the House of Hanover, Percy perhaps this cannot be said ; in-
nothing, doubtless, has been produced deed' Miss Hannah herself has since
equal to the best tragedies of the pre- repented of having written it, in which
ceding period. Gustavus Vasa is per- there is no great harm, provided it be
haps a better play than Cato, and the for the right reason. Miss Baillie's
Grecian Daughter of Murphy, and admirable tragedies, though not in-
Roman Father of Whitehead, are per- tended for the stage, have done much
haps equal, and more than equal, to to reform the acted drama; and the
the inferior productions of Otway, or increasing editions of the older drama-
Lee, or Lillo; but their masterpieces tists afford ample proof, that the tide of
are still unmatched by any thing that publie taste is setting strongly in the
has succeeded them. The best praise right direction. Lamb's John Wood-
of modern tragedy is, that it has slow- vil, the Tragedies of Messrs Chene-
ly, but gradually, shewn reviving vix and Galt, and likewise, Mr Barry
symptoms of that better taste which Cornwall's scenes, are full of hope and
was depraved on the return of the Stu- promise. Mr Coleridge, Mr Maturin,
arts. Lord Byron has oddly enough and Lord Byron, night do better than
styled Horace Walpole “ Ultimus Ro- they have done. There would be no
manorum,” for his tragedy of The Mys- condescension in taking a lesson from
terious Mother. With a story far more Shakespeare.
revolting than that of (Edipus, it is a The immediate time of the Kesto-
play of considerable genius and power ration was by no means remarkably
of writing. But the epithet is sadly prolific of good comedies. Amongst
misapplied. “Ultimus Gallorum”would the acting comedies of the present day,
be more suitable. His taste was noto we find the Country Wife and the Re-
riously founded upon the starched hearsal, altered into the Country Girl,
Vol. IX.
2M


289
On the alleged Decline of Dramatic Writing. [June
and the Critic. The Nonjuror, now al- unsatisfactory. His plots, indeed, are
tered into the Hypocrite, having itself inartificially artificial. They are loose
been manufactured by Cibber from and improbable in the general con-
Moliere, and others, was much later, duct, which is, perhaps, no mighty
but may be mentioned, as having been matter of complaint; but then they
oddly kept alive by the political and re- are just as improbable in the detail,
ligious feelings which took their rise as must always be the case when the
from the second expulsion of the Stu- characters themselves are improbable.
arts.
The wit of these comedies has carried
Of the play writers in Charles Se- them triumphantly through every
cond's time, Etherege was for some thing. Like figures composed of gems,
time a favourite, though there is both they sparkle from top to bottom.
'more wit and more power in Killi- Lord and Lord's Gentleman, Master
grew. Wycherly supplanted both, and and Servingman, Fop and no Fop, say
will continue to be read whilst Eng- their good things on every occasion,
lish comedy exists. The comic vein of and in equal profusion. Wycherly
Dryden was certainly any thing but has more grossness, with not half the
happy. In grossness he outdoes all his wit and eloquence of Congreve. Van-
contemporaries. Some one has said, burgh, with little less wit, and more
that Sir George Etherege was the first humour, has infinitely more originali-
who founded a comedy barefacedly up- ty of natural character than either.
on the sexual passion ; but the asser Cibber has character, and a vivacity
tion may be doubted. Nothing can be which, itself never fagging, never
more openly and unblushingly bad wearies his reader. The comedies of
than Dryden's Limberham, or the Vanburgh, from uniting in themselves
Kind Keeper. Of Shadwell one does the greatest proportion of conjoined
not well know what to think or to wit and natural character, will proba-
say, His pieces, both tragely and co- bly be read more than any of the co-
medy, are duller than a “ Concert of mic productions of the time. The Pro-
Antient Music," and twice as uncouth. voked Wife is a masterpiece of natu-
He is destitute of wit, but contrives ral painting, easy wit, and humorous
to supply its place with a strange reflection. That it is a faithful tran-
slang, and a coarse jog-trot kind of script of the manners of the age can-
humour. His characters are by no not be doubted; and the pithiness of
means devoid of originality, but they the dialogue has not often been equal-
are invariably heavy, and sinack of the led since the days of Shakespeare.
vulgar. Perhaps the best description The Provoked Husband has less wit,
of Shadwell's plays is to say, with and is every way inferior; but the
Dogberry, “ They are most tolerable, Confederacy is another sterling come-
and not to be endured.” They are pre- dy, according to the taste of the time.
cisely the productions to be expected The Relapse, Sheridan bas condescend-
from such a man as Dryden has de- ell to alter, under the title of A Trip
scribed -
Og” to be.
to Scarborough; though, as he himself
The period following the accession is said to have owned, not for the bet-
of the Prince of Orange affords a splen- ter. It was not, however, the most
did display of comic genius. Congreve, unlucky of his condescensions. Of Far-
Vanburgh, Farquhar, and Cibber, are quhar, I cannot help thinking, that he
a formidable phalanx. Of these, Con- has been a little overrated, though,
greve has the highest reputation; but far be it from me to endeavour to de-
whether quite deservedly or not, may tract from the real merit of some of
admit of a question. He was certain- his airy and most agreeable comedies.
ly the man of the most extensive ge- Cibber's Careless Husband is, per-
nius. To write the Mourning Bride, haps, better than any thing of Far-
and Love for Love, was no work for quhar's. One proof of its excellence
one even uncommon mind; it proves is, that Pope has attempted to throw a
the possession of powers of the most doubt upon its authorship :-
opposite descriptions. He exemplifies,
“ Had Cibber's self the Careless Husband
however, most completely, the change
wrote_"
of taste which had taken place in this
species of writing. His plots and his If he had not, his works afford toler
characters are equally artificial; and, able evidence of his ability to have
taken separately, to say the truth, done so. She would and She would


1821.7 On the alleged Decline of Dramatic Writing:
283
not, though inferior to the Careless sense-profligacy with feeling-fasti-
Husband, deservedly keeps firm pos- diousness with 'politeness, -and the
Session of the stage. Cibber was a pil- tints of the dignified and the ridicu-
ferer, to be sure, but he was an adroit lous cross, and mingle and overshade
one. His Love makes a Man, or the each other at every movement-"aye,
Fop's Fortune, is an edifying specimen varying like the pigeon.” In Mur-
of the taste of the age. He has here phy's comedy, Dash wood and old By-
compounded a most sprightly comedy grove, Lady Jane and Lady Bell, are
out of two of Beaumont and Fletcher, all perfectly finished portraits; and
taking care to extract every iota of the whole action is so natural, as to
poetry with as little injury as possible seem absolutely a transcript of real
to the marking of the characters and events, with scarcely any heightening.
the vivacity of the action-a process of The characters of Goldsmith and of
which he seems to have been com- Foote are more farcical, though highly
pletely master. Still Cibber has by original; nor must The Wheel of
no means had justice. The bitter en- Fortune and The West Indian of
mity of Pope and his friends, like Cumberland be forgotten. They are
that of Johnson and others to Foote, sterling comedies of character.
has thrown a lasting sha le upon his It is needless to particularize fur-
character as an author. The comedies ther, save only in one instance. The
of Steele are of two classes. The Fu- dramatic works of Sheridan are nearly
neral is an exhibition of ludicrous and sufficient to give the preponderance in
extravagant humour, not easily to be this department of literature, to the
paralleled. The Conscious Lovers is period of which he was the ornament.
perhaps one of the first symptoms of With almost an unequalled power of
what has been styled Sentimental Co- pourtraying original character, and
medy. This species seems to have with a plentiful store of humour of
been adopted as a sort of substitute the most delicate description, the sheer
for the poetical in comedy, and was wit of his pieces has never been sur-
first fairly tried in the False Delicacy passed. If Sheridan be compared to
of Hugh' Kelly, a play of great but Congreve, he will, I think, be found
transient popularity. The principle, very nearly to equal him, even in that
however, upon which it was written, for which he most eminent. The
still subsists under varions modifica- brilliancies of Sheridan are less forced
tious, and in many annoying varieties. than those of Congreve. They seem
From this period up to the present, to flow more naturally from the mouth
if the comic muse has been less bril- of the speaker. They are always more
liant, she has been more skilful in the or less imbued with character. Con-
first and most genuine province of co- greve's dramatis personæ always ap-
merly, the nicely depicting original pear to be acting a part, and never
characters of common life. The wri- more so than when they are particu-
tings of Murphy, the elder Colman, larly smart. This was, no doubt, in
Goldsmith, Garrick, Foote, Hoadley, part, the real air of the manners of
Morris, Mrs Cowley, Mrs Inchbald, that day ; but it pervades his plays
Cumberland, and others, inferior, as throughout. Sheridan's witticisms, on
they are, to those of their predecessors the contrary, spring from the occasion
in the requisites of wit and point, dis- and “existing circumstances," as they
play infinitely more of character, hu- say in parliament. When Lady Teazle,
mour, and delicate delineation of man- on hearing the baffled Lady Sneer-
Ders. Sheridan, amongst the moderns, well's wish,“ May, your husband live
stands alone. The “ Know your own these fifty years, exclaims,
« Oh !
Mind” of Murphy, and “ The Clan- what a malicious creature !" it seems
destine Marriage” of Colman and Gare to be a moot point, whether or not the
rick, include characters of the most joke is intentional, so naturally, and
exquisite humour and admirably dis- yet so humorously, does it arise out of
tinguished peculiarities. Those who the situation. The scenes in which
have seen Mr Farren play Lord Ogle- the scandalous coterie “ huddle jest
by, in the latter piece, may have a upon jest, with such impassable .con-
complete insight into the niceties of veyance,” remind one most strongly of
that unique sample of nobility—in those of Congreve, because there they
which the infirmities of age so strange- evidently strain every nerve to be wit-
ly, yet naturally, mingle with the ty, and succeed.
gaieties of youth-vanity with good That Sheridan's wit is evidently


284
On the alleged Decline of Dramatic Writing: (June,
more easy and natural, is in some sort neither tragedy nor comedy-neither
proved by its being more generally prose nor verse—pathetic farces-me-
understood than that of any other dra- fodramas, “ et hoc genus omne," cer..
matic writer. When the School for tainly took its date from that unhappy
Scandal is acted, the pit chuckle, the production. Sheridan was unfortu-
galleries laugh, and even the boxes netely the proprietor of an unwieldy
relish it. The hits tell all over the play-house, in which even his own
house. Lord Byron informs us in the inimitable productions could not be
preface to Faliero, that “the School heard ; and he stooped to employ the
for Scandal is the play that has brought scene-painter and trumpeter to help
least money, averuging the number of him out. It was a sad fatality for the
times it has been acted." Had his lord- public. His theatre should have been
ship put the conclusion of the sen- less, or his pride greater.
tence in italics, it woull have at once To expect such a man as Sheridan
explained itself, at least to every play- once in a century would be folly; and
goer. Probably Hamlet or Macbeth the dramatic writers of the present
would be next on “Manager Dibdin's” day, instead of vainly attempting to
list of unproductive plays upon the imitate his wit, would do well to re-
average ; and some play, which had trace their steps, and look for models
the good fortune to be damned by an amongst the old dramatic writers.
overflowing house, might, for aught I Not that they should parrot their lan-
know, be first on the other side. The guage, but endeavour to catch some of
fact is, the comedy, from its extreme the inspiration of their poetry. It is
popularity, has become a favourite plain, ihat mere wit, separated from
managerial stop-gup, or forlorn hope, character, is not in itselt sufficient to
and is constantly acted to five-pound constitute the dramatic; for what is
bouses, when any other would proba- the drama but a poetical representa-
bly produce empty benches.
tion of human life, of which wit is
In every department of dramatic only a small portion ? It is equally
writing which he has attempted, She- plain, that a mere transcript or servile.
ridan has excelled. His “ Critic” has delineation of peculiarities of manner
supplanted the Rehearsal ; and the is essentially prosaic, and, what is
Duenna is the best comic opera in the worse, in its nature transient and fa-
language, which, to be sure, is not ding. It is from their natural poetry,
inuch to say; but it is an excellent that the comedies of Shakespeare and
comic opera. In this comparison, how- Fletcher will be fresh, almost as on
ever, must not be included that ano their first conception, when the wit
malous effort of genius, the Beggar's and slaug of more modern dramatists
Opera, which is neither more nor less will seem hard, and antiquated, and
than a moral satire in the shape of an unprepossessing. The salt of poetry
opera. Nor must his light farce of is wanted to make the matter savoury,
St Patrick's Day be forgotten. It is It will not keep without it. A noted
as admirable in its wit and drollery, as critic is filled with enthusiasm by the
it is slight in other requisites. Had comedies of Queen Anne's time, and
Sheridan never written Pizarro, he yearns after the days, when belles and
would have left his dramatic fame as beaux, in hoop-petticoats and bag-
pure as his wit, and as unassailable as wigs, fluttered through the stately
his patriotism. But the manager pre- walks of St James's Park. But he has
dominated for once over the man of probably overlooked a principal cause
taste, and he condescended to go to of his own feelings. He has forgotten
Germany for materials for the drama, that the lapse of time will confer some-
and what was worse, to go to Kotze- thing of the romantic and of the poem
bue. It was an unlucky importation. tical upon that which originally had
He had better have brought over a them not; and it is this, together with
bale of cotton, with the plague in the the wit and good sense which they
middle of it. There is no literary qua- embody, that has helped to endear
rantine ; and it is to be feared, that in these scenes to his imagination. There
Pizarro had their origin all those bom can be little doubt of this. Time is a
bastical, showy, noisy, prose-run-mad sort of Claude Loraine glass, which
exhibitions, which have since inunda- bestows a brighter tint upon objects
ted the stage. The recent downward seen through it. Lord Foppington is
progress of the drama, through plays not now a mere fop-a bag-wig and


1921.]
285
On the alleged Decline of Dramatic Writing.
rapier are not now merely fashionable, is to be hoped, that the admirable ma-
but they are something better. They terials for dramas of this description,
have become picturesque by distance. which both English and Scottish his-
The vulgarity of common reality is tory and manners afford, may be no
veiled by a haze and mist of romance, longer neglected. We see every day
which envelopes and alters objects in the play-wrights of the minor theatres
proportion as they are far from us. So manufacture pleasing, nay, in a sort
impossible is it to divest the represen- poetical, pieces out of the Novels of
tation of departed things of this sha- the Author of Waverley, and our co-
dowing, that the spirit of the most mic poets sit still and do nothing.
prosaic or vulgar personage, who had Yet Mr Cornwall or Mr Milman is
died fifty years ago, would assume just as likely to succeed in a comedy,
something of the poetical. Let those like All's well that ends well, or
who doubt this, read that scene in The Merchant of Venice, as in at-
“ The Lover's Progress," in which tempting to rival Othello, or Romeo
the apparition of " mine host” ap- and Juliet; and it would be a much
pears, and mark the effect of this most more hopeful business for the author
homely of all ghosts.
of the Nympholept to try the same
The Honey-Moon of Tobin, and style, than to write any more comedies
the Mountaineers of Colman, are de- about “ Trade in the West.” Let
cided and pleasant symptoms of the men of talent once begin to turn their
return of the poetical comic drama. attention to the comedies, as well as to
These two plays, though neither of the tragedies of Shakespeare, and his
them is written with high dramatic contemporaries, and there will soon
power, have continued to be popular. be little reason to despise the modern
This can only be attributed to the plan drama.
upon which they are constructed. It
T. D.
MEDIOCRITY.
MR EDITOR,
tive from the want of culture, or from
Ir is maintained by persons affecting that which is destructive of its princi-
a superior delicacy of taste in the ele- ple of life. Poetry suffers grievously
gant arts, that "none but works of under its tyranny, and if the other arts
the highest quality can possibly be to- should sometimes escape, it is because
lerated, by those who have a true feel- their principles are less understood,
ing for the productions of genius.” In and ignorance betrays the critic into
justification of this rule, it is asserted occasional candour ; but when, as it
that “ the excellence of such compo- generally happens, he makes up in
sitions is of a nature that admits of no boldness of animadversion, his defi-
middle course to which a qualified ciency of skill, painting and her sisters
praise inight be given. They are either experience the common fate of genius,
precious or worthless; if not high, which is to have nearly all their works
they are low; what is pre-eminent is declared worthy only of being hated
unique and incomparable: all below or despised.
that elevated point being more or less But what is this direful state, so
tainted with error, are in a degree vi- much abhorred by critics and dreaded
cious, and therefore offensive to the by professors ? Mediocrity is common-
purity of taste."
ly defined to be “that middle point
Thus after skimming off what those between the superlatively good and its
luminaries imagine to be the creanı of opposite extreme, where the high re-
excellence, the remainder, pronounced lish of beauty is so diluted, and its ef-
unclean, is condemned in the mass, fects are so chastened as to present no-
and rendered eminently odious, in that thing that can be either highly appro-
state of reprobation termed Mediocrity, ved or harshly censured ; possessing
which, by the same authority, is de- neither merits that charm, nor faulls
clared to be the opprobrium of genius, that offend us.”
and “ hateful alike to gods and inen. Here, it is true, we have an idea of
There is no vandalisin which can Mediocrity in the abstract; but, un-
exceed this dogma in its most mischie- fortunately for the definition, works
vous influence upon talent; for it mat- of genius so balanced by opposing qua-
ters not whether it becomes uproduc- lities exist only in the imagination of


286
Mediocrity.
[June,
the critic; or if such a union were In fact Pre-eminence and Mediocrity
possible, it is not true that, by altering are just whatever the existing state of
the balance, the result would be some- cultivated talent may chance to deter-
thing more estimable. It would surely mine. The rapturous productions of
be ridiculous to assert in plain terms, one age are sunk into insipidity by the
that the excellence of a composition more advanced art of another, which,
would be improved by a mixture of as the ever-moving wheel revolves,
defects ; yet it is actually on this pre- either falls by its own decay, or is ex-
sumption that Mediocrity is condemn- tinguished by rival splendour, more
ed as peculiarly offensive. We are not brilliant, but not more durable. The
averse, it is admitted, to compound for works of middle merit in the time of
a few faults to obtain higher beauties, Raphael and Michael Angelo were be-
but we are not therefore to believe that yond all comparison higher than when
the blemishes contributed any thing Giotto and Cimabue were at the head
to our admiration.
of their profession, or afterwards, when
If criticism would permit us to fol- the “ Raphael of the day” was pro-
low the desires of our own hearts, we claimed in the person of the Chevalier
should naturally be most pleased with Mengs.
those works which to us appeared to Carlo Maratti is usually named as
have the greatest number of agreeable an example of confirmed mediocrity,
qualities. These would be our best ; and men whose ideas of excellence are
and immediately below that high point adjusted to a higher scale, affect to con-
of pre-eminence we should perceive a template his works with apathy or dis-
series to commence, in which its merit gust. But this character of the artist
would be gradually diminished until is formed on a comparison with his
it reached its lowest stage, and, judg- more eminent predecessors ; let their
ing reasonably and fairly, our appro- works be annihilated or forgotten, and
bation would lower in the same pro- those of Carlo Maratti will be disco-
gressive order ; but by the sentence vered to possess a very large propor-
pronounced on the crime of Mediocri- tion of positive merit. Being the best,
ty, we are led to suppose that there is they would be declared by every voice
something somewhere about the mid-“most excellent ;" in which case, there
way, between the best and worst, which is no precious quality in art that would
is singularly repulsive, and so much not be seen in the divine works of Car-
to be feared and shunned, that it were lo Maratti ; professors would imitate,
better never to adventure in the art and connoisseursexclaim; and it might
than pause at that ill-fated spot. be again said—as one great genius said
To detect the folly or affectation of of another,that “to kiss the hem of
this principle, we have only to compare his cloak would abundantly satisfy even
it with the practice of the critic; for an ambitious man.”
although he pretends to shrink with Although it may not be compatible
wounded sensibility from inferiority with the dignity of criticism to balance
in every shape, note the history of his the consequences of its principles with
predilections, and you will find him their truth, when the tutors of ingenia
successively the adorer of every shade ous youth set before their tyros the
of excellence, and every fashion and hobgoblin of Mediocrity to stimulate
quality of art. It is therefore the mere their exertions, they should consider
prattle of idleness to say that true taste whether an object so fearful might not
can approve of nothing but what is in- rather check than encourage their ala-
trinsically good, and comparatively crity; and also, when they gravely pro-
the best, since it is evident that this pounce Mediocrity to be a thing “hated
true taste is of all things the most ac- both by gods and men,” whether they
commodating, and can doat upon any should not first be well assured of the
thing and every thing in its turn. The fact; for the cause of truth is not al-
connoisseur tribe, in all times and ways best promoted by incredible evi-
places, forms to itself a criterion of its dence.
own, and lays down rules of judgment, That men may be moved by no ade-
which, as they refer to no established quate cause to hatred or approbation
and permanent code, scarcely survive on matters of taste, it will not be dis-
their authors; though time is conti- puted; but that the gods have the same
nually brushing away the unprofitable sense of abhorrence for this unfortu-
labours in some new shape, they as nate stage of inferiority, is not equally
constantly reappear.
certain. If we may judge by their own


1821.]
Mediocrity.
287
works, and compare them with each is good in all its degrees, and not, by
other as they appear to us, both in an unnatural pursuit of defects, and
physical and intellectual nature, where habits of peevish rejection, leave it
the same variety, the same gradations with scarcely any other sentiment than
between beauty and deformity, be that of aversion. By the fastidious cri-
tween meanness and magnificence, are tic we are placed in the situation of
no less apparent than in the produce the great Sancho, before a table bend-
tions of men, it would seem that, how- ing under a load of sumptuous viands
ever immortals may feel with respect prepared for bis refreshment, with an
to what is most excellent, they can at officious doctor at his elbow directing
least behold with complacency the nu- his choice of food ; and by whose im-
merous examples which do not reach pertinent solicitude the honest gover-
that elevated point. This extraordi- nor, with an appetite for every thing
nary delicacy, this critical squeainish- betore him, was well nigh famished in
ness, has indeed nothing of divinity in the midst of what appeared to his un-
it. It is neither produced nor sanction- sophisticated eye a luxurious abun-
ed by the gods, but is a creature of hu- dance. Heavens ! how different was
man growth, partaking of human infir- that state of subdued taste and elegant
mity; and though believed to be the starvation from the paradise of Camaco
issue of fine taste, had ignorance and the type of liberal criticism-where
brutality been its parents, it could not the same illustrious personage found
have been more inimical to the welfare himself surrounded by the flesh-pots
of art. If it be the effect of refinement, of Egypt, and at full liberty to approve
it is a plethoric symptom in the cause, and enjoy ; and where, yielding to the
and indicates a state of vicious excess; generous impulse of his nature, to
for the taste so highly rectified is not meet with equal pleasure the kind in-
improved either in delicacy or inten- tentions of those who endeavoured to
sity of feeling. Instead of being an en- please, he realized all that his luxuri-
largement of the capacity of receiving ous fancy could conceive of human fe-
pleasure from the operations of genius, licity!
it is in reality a contraction of that be With this impressive example be-
nevolent provision in nature,-a power fore us, of the vigorous relish ota sim-
communicated to the mind of circum- ple and natural taste, we are compel-
scribing its own enjoyments; whereas led to acknowledge, (wherein we shall
the taste which is free from this vice, be sanctioned by the Prince of Pro-
has more ample resources, and can ex- verbs) that “a good appetite is better
tract pleasure from works various in than a delicate taste.” By the one we
their degrees of merit; equally just and have many sources of pleasure, by the
liberal in its perceptions, it can distin- other few. If the generality of men
guish the excellence which is attained, can be gratified by imperfect or infe-
and that also which was intended, and rior productions in the fine arts, be-
discovers motives of approbation both cause their higher excellencies are un-
in the aim and in the performance. known to them, it is better they should
In truth, there are few of the pro- continue so, than by a superfluous re-
ductions of genius that rise to the ele- finement be alınost excluded from such
vation of the despised character in enjoyments. The pleasure diffused
question, which do not contain quite by that happy ignorance, gives, in its
enough to satisfy the general appetite cheering effect, vivacity and strength
for such things, and also that of the to art, while the other operates upon
majority of those who assume the di- it as a blight. An ingenious youth,
rection of public taste, if they did not who is certain of finding admirers in
find it much more convenient to ac- all the stages of his progress, will have
quire a kind of importance by dispu- every motive to proceed with vigour,
ting the claims of merit in others, than and consequently every chance of ul-
by a fair competition to establish their timate success; but if warned, that
unless he reaches the summit, contempt
The arts are our legitimate offspring, instead of praise will certainly be the
and nature has bound us to the chil- only reward of his labour, he will
dren of our love. The business of the shrink, at the outset, from an underta-
critic should therefore be to strengthen king of such difficulty and hazard.
this affection, by enabling the mind to I have now, learned sir, expended
discover, and appreciate liberally what all my shafts, and I hope not without
12
Own.


288
Mediocrity.
[June,
some effect; but if you think the ene the refinement of public taste must
my still on the field, seize your lance, precede the developement of talent ;
I conjure you, or trusty broad-sword shew that genius put forth its fairest
which none can wield with more skill blossoms when men had no critics to
and adroitness than yourself—and at direct their judgment; and finally,
one mighty stroke rid us of that pesti- that it never thrives in ihe soil where
ferous race of doctors, who, while they taste has many cultivators:So may we
profess to regulate andamendour taste, hope to see the candour and good sense
deprive us both of appetite and food. of the many take their natural course,
In plain English, shew the world, I men of genius, though not of the high-
entreat you, by arguments worthy of est class, receive their due proportion
your pen, the pernicious tendency of of fame, and the public at large, relie-
that hypocritical spirit, which, forever ved from the bugbear of criticism, al-
correcting and improving, is itself the lowed to be pleased with the produc-
enemy of all improvement; and which, tions of art, where, and whenever it
chilling with an icy breath the free shall be so disposed; and also to ex-
current of public feeling, deprives the press that pleasure in simplicity and
arts of genius of their best nourishment truth.
and most honourable reward. Confute
CANDIDUS.
by facts the too prevalent opinion, that
ITALIA.
Al Signore l'Editore.
SIGNORE,
Prendo la libertà di mandarle un Sonetto da me composto allorchè io stara
per partire d'Italia.' 'E il primo, per quanto che io sappia, che è stato com-
posto, o almeno, dato alla luce da un Britanno,* dal tempo felice in cui fiori
la Poesia Inglese e scrisse il divinissimo Milton. Egli ci ha lasciati parecchi
Sonnetti in lingua Italiana. Forse ve ne sieno altri da altri poeti, ma adesso non
mene ricordo. Bisogna che si scusino le imperfezioni del mio Sonnetto; e ciò
si farà considerando che l' impresa è assai ardua e difficile per uno Scozzese.
Mi crederà,
Con tutto rispetto,
Suo divotisso servitore,
r
SONETTO.
Al bel soggiorno in cui sorride Amore-
Pargoletto padron del mondo intero-
Al bel paese del suo dolce impero
Si volgon gli occhi miei, si
il core.
De' passati miei dì rammento l'ore ;
S'abbassa il ciglio, ed il mesto pensiero
Nel Futuro si svia torbido e nero;
Provando del Destin tutto il rigore.
Qui sorgon,-tra tempeste e nebbia involte, -
+L'eterne mura dell' Ausonia amata,
U? le speranze wie lascio sepolte.
Declina il sol:-la Natura creata
S'imbruna; e colla Notte ancor più folte
Divengon le ombre dell'alma affannata.
r
Italia, 1818.
. Eccettuato sempre l' ornatissimo Signore Matthias.
+ " " L'eterne mura"-cicè, le Alpi.


1821.)
999
Captain Parry's Voyage.
CAPTAIN PARRY'S VOYAGER
CAPTAIN PARRY's voyage has been year, no fewer than fourteen Green-
far more successful than Captain Ross's, land ships, with all the skill which we
and his book is proportionally more in- have heard boasted of as possessed by
teresting and satisfactory ; both cirm their masters, were wrecked. And the
cuinstances, however, we cannot help second he thus far accomplished ;-he
thinking, in some degree attributable narrowed materially the field of fur.
to the diversity of situation in which ther investigation, shewed expressly
these officers have been placed. To where a passage could not be, where
this diversity, therefore, we shall beg possibly it might yet be found, where
to call the attention of our readers a after all he certainly ought himself to
moment, before proceeding to the anae have found it, where no difficulty or
lysis of the work before us ; convinced, danger opposed the discovery, but ap-
as we are, on the one hand, that the parently a want of sufficient interest
surge has already broken somewhat in the investigation, to bear him with
heavily on Captain Ross's head, and undiminished ardour through a series
may, for anght we know, be now again of previous disappointments to ultimate
gathering against him; while, on the success.
other, that Captain Parry's merits re Captain Parry's situation when heleft
quire no bolstering up at another's ex. England in 1819, was essentially dif-
pence, that, on the contrary, it is both ferent froin all this. He had once alrea.
his wish, repeatedly implied in his dy penetrated the ice in Davis' Straits,
work, and his interest, to stand upon he felt confident, accordingly, that he
his own ground only, and have ample could do it again ; and the benefit
justice done to his less fortunate fore, which, in doing it, he derived from his
runner in the career of Northern Dis. past experience, he takes an early oppor-
covery.
tunity in his narrative of expressing
In that career Captain Ross was the in the terms which will be found in the
first to be employed in modern times; note. + This, therefore, was no object
and on his appointment two several of his solicitude, it did not fiu his
objects must have presented themselves mind at all, it ranked merely among
to his mind as points of pursuit. The the specialties of his undertaking. But
one was, to get into Baffin's Bay at any besides this, when beyond this obstacle,
rate, an object only once achieved be he was not, like Captain Ross, adrift,
fore, by Baffin himself, and wbich had as it were, in an unknown sea, where
subsequently, for a period of two hun a passage might equally be found in
dred years, foiled all the attempts, and one place as in another; he had not
there had been many, wbich had been only a specific object of pursuit, and
made to compass it. The next was, to that raised in his estimation by be-
see what he could find when he was coming a first object, to say nothing of
there. Now, of these, the first he most the additional importance it must have
successfully attained ; and first and in acquired from the disappointment, and
safety, without the assistance of exper even indignation, expressed in Eng-
rience or previous example, penetrated land at the previous failure in ascer-
that barrier of ice which seems almost taining it, but also specific points on
permanently fixed in a diagonal across which to look for it. Add to all which,
and along Davis's Straits ; in following he found it at the first search, and
his track through which, the following tasted of none of that“ hope deferred,"
• Journal of a Voyage for the discovery of a North-West Passage from the Atlantic
to the Pacific, performed in the Years 1819-20, in His Majesty's Ships, Hecla and
Griper, under the orders of William Edward Parry, R.N. F.R.Š. and Commander of
the Expedition. With an Appendix. 4to. London, Murray, 1821.
" If any proof were wanting of the value of local knowledge in the navigation of the
Polar Seas, it would be amply furnished by the fact of our having now reached the en-
trance of Lancaster Sound a month earlier than we had done in 1818, although
we had then sailed a fortnight sooner. This difference is to be attributed entirely to the
confidence which 1 felt from the experience gained on the former voyage, that an open
sea would be found to the westward of the barrier of ice which occupies the middle of
Baffir's Bay. Without that confidence, it would have been little better than madness
to have attempted a passage through so compact a body of ice, when no indication of a
clear sea appeared beyond it.” P. 24.
VOL. IX.
2 N


290
Captain Parry's Voyage.
[June,
which makes the heart sick and the In analyzing the present work, it
spirits impatient, in discovery as in will be difficult for us to avoid some
every thing else.
repetitions; for throughout the whole
The merits of the two officers in time that these northern voyages have
question must not then be too hastily occupied public attention, we have
appreciated, from their different suc- been so assiduous in picking up recent
cess; neither also ought their respec- information respecting their progress,
tive books to be estimated without re- for the benefit of our readers, and so
ference to a similar diversity in the si fortunate in obtaining it accurate and
tuation in which each was composed. minute, we find ourselves now precise-
Captain Ross knew that his conductly in the situation which deterred us
was censured by his superiors and the from examining Captain Ross's work
public; his tone, therefore, almost when it appeared forestalled of our
throughout, is apologetical, and many matter out of our own mouth. Refer-
of his details are lumbering, egotisti- ring, however, to our 44th Number
cal, and heavy. But when a man feels for a more regular narrative than we
that he is likely to be defrauded of shall now offer, and to the chart pub-
what is strictly his due on one point, lished in it for illustration, we shall
he naturally swells on all ; and hé merely connect the parts of the whole
were a harsh judge of human nature which seem to us the most interest-
who would too rigidly scan the infir- ing, and conclude with a brief and po-
mity. Captain arry, on the other pular notice of the scientific results of
hand, returned to reap the well-earned this very remarkable voyage.
rewards of success, with incidents to The expedition arrived in Sir James
tell of a romantic and unusual charac- Lancaster's Sound, or rather at the
ter, and talents for telling them, which, mouth of Barrow's Straits, on the 30th
in despite of his modest excuses about July, 1819, and the recognition of the
his education, it is difficult to imagine shore, and still more of their own foot-
that he should not suspect were re- steps on that shore, which had survi-
spectable, for, in truth, they seem to ved the winter, and remained to tes-
us first-rate. Without a care or a fear, tify that that year, at least, but little
therefore, he seems to have written, snow had fallen, seems to have excited
with singular facility and precision, the feelings, and animated the enthu-
whatever came in order, and to have siasm of the gallant little band compo-
thus given the world a volume consi- sing it, in no ordinary degree. Their
derably larger than Captain Ross's, yet patience was for some days exercised
replete with interest almost through- by contrary winds; but on the 3d
out.
August, a fresh breeze sprung up from
And in making theseobservations, let the eastward, and the great discovery
it not be supposed that we areseeking to was achieved. From the 5th to the
make out a case for Captain Ross, and 19th, during all which time farther
for this purpose are desirous of depre- passage to the westward was barred by
ciating Captain Parry. The truth is, continuous ice, they were employed in
we know very little of either officer; exploring Prince Regent's Inlet; from
and if we have any prejudices at all, the mouth of which, on the 20th, they
they run in the opposite direction, for again made a start westerly along and
we think very highly of Captain Parry, through the ice, which, both now and
and are even eager to add to what we the following year, they found packed
have said, that by his conduct through- on its western side. On the 22d they
out, but chiefly subsequent to the dis- opened two fine channels, one named
covery of a passage through Lancaster after the Duke of Wellington, trend.
Sound, he amply deserved the success ing N.N.W.between Cornwallis Island
which had in the first instance attend- and North Devon of the chart, and
ed him in making it. Perhaps indeed quite clear of ice as far as the eye could
we may recur to this subject, for it is reach, both in 1819 and 1820; the
a favourite one with us. But mean other nearly west, not so open, nor in
while, we love fair play, however it that respect so promising, but more
cut, and have an old-fashioned school directly in the course which it was
injunction, suum cuique tribuito, still their object to pursue. The last ac-
ringing in our ears; with which, how- cordingly was preferred by Captain
ever, having thus complied, we pro- Parry; and although detained almost
ceed now to our principal task. a whole day at its mouth, by the 25th


1821.]
Captain Parry's Voyage.
291
he had reached 990 west longitude, Hecla and Griper to look out for win-
almost 20° beyond Lancaster's Sound, ter quarters. These he was fortunate
and near the longitude, as he concei- enough to find of excellent quality,
ved from the phenomena of variation, and by, the 26th he was snug; all
of one of the magnetic poles. · Imme- hands, however, being previously ex-
diately about him, in this run, was posed to severe fatigue in cutting a
thickly studded with islands, on seve- canal 4080 yards, or nearly two miles
ral of which he landed; and far to the and a third long, through the young
southward were descried occasional ice, now, on an average, seven inches
patches of land, but whether also thick, by which the ships entered Win-
islands, or points in the adjoining con- ter harbour.
tinent, it was impossible to determine. Here they lay ten whole months, a
On the 30th, they made the S.E. point part of each individually of the whole
of Melville Island, with which they year; and the five most interesting
were destined to become afterwards chapters, to the general reader, of Cap-
better acquainted ; and on its southern tain Parry's narrative are devoted to
shore, on the 4th September, the name this period. We wish it were possible
of Bounty Cape was given to a point indeed to extract the spirit of the
of land situate in longitude 1100 W., whole for his sake ; for really this gal-
latitude 74° 46' N., the first in the lant young officer loses half his fame,
scale of parliamentary rewards for dis- when his exertions, guided by good
coveries within the Arctic Circle being sense and good feeling, on this trying
here earned. On the 6th, they an- occasion, are not distinctly appreciated.
chored, for the first time since leaving But we can only select, which we shall
England, in a bay even then called do in his own words.
the Bay of the Hecla and Griper, but “Having now reached the station,
which subsequently acquired an addi- where in all probability we were des-
tional claim to that appellation, the tined to remain eight or nine months,
harbour in which they passed the win- during three of which we were not
ter, being a cove within it.
to see the face of the sun, my atten-
Some time before this period, the tion was immediately and imperiously
idea had occurred to Captain Parry of called to various important duties,
making his way to the westward, when many of them of a singular nature,
the ice was nearly close out to sea, by such as had for the first time devolved
creeping along shore within the main on any officer in his Majesty's navy,
body, which was generally found to and might indeed be considered of rare
take the ground some little way off. occurrence in the whole history of na-
They were now obliged to adopt this vigation. The security of the ships,
method exclusively, and during the and the preservation of the various
remainder of the season of 1819, a stores, were objects of immediate con-
span, however, of only twenty more cern. A regular system of good order
days, their perils and anxieties in the and cleanliness, as most conducive to
prosecution of it were excessive, and the health of the crews during the
their success at the same time very long, dark, and dreary winter, equally
small; the utmost distance to which demanded my attention.
they attained that year not exceeding “ Not a moment was lost, there-
forty miles from this point. To add fore, in the commencement of our ope-
to their perplexities, a party consisting rations. The whole of the masts were
of an officer and six men were missing, dismantled, except the lower ones, and
amid the desolation of the surrounding the Hecla’s main-topmast, which was
scenery, for the greater part of three kept fidded for the purpose of occa-
days and nights; the Griper, to which sionally hoisting up the electrometer
they belonged, and which seems chain, to try the effect of atmospheri-
throughout to have had the luck to cal electricity. The lower yards were
get constantly a worse birth than the lashed fore and aft amidships, at a
Hecla, was repeatedly caught by the sufficient height to support the planks
ice, and heeled over nearly to upset- of the housing intended to be erected
ting; and the young ice seemed evi- over the ships, the lower ends of
dently kept from forming only by the which rested on the gunwale; and the
tempestuous state of the weather. On whole of this frame-work was after-
the 21st, Captain Parry gave up the wards roofed over with a cloth com-
point, and returned to the Bay of the posed of wadding-tilt, with which


202
Captain Parry's Voyage.
(June,
waggons are usually covered. The tion. The weather was unfortunately
boats, spars, running-rigging, and sails, too cloudy to admit of observations
were removed on shore, in order to for determining the amount of this, at
give as much room as possible on our the then temperature of 6° ; but they
upper deck, to enable the people to were more successful on this head in
take exercise on board, whenever the spring, when the thermometer stood
weather should be too inclement for considerably lower. The following de-
walking on shore.
scription of occupation and scenery
“ As soon as the ships were secured about this time, or a little later, will
and housed over, my undivided atten- be perused, we think, with interest by
tion was, in the next place, directed to all classes of readers.
the comfort of the officers and men, “ The officers and quarter-masters
and to the preservation of that extra- were divided into four watches, which
ordinary degree of health, which we were regularly kept as at sea, while
had hitherto enjoyed in both ships. the remainder of the ships' com-
A few brief remarks on this subject by panies were allowed to enjoy their
Mr Edwards, to whose skill and ad- night's rest undisturbed. The hands
vice, as well as humane and unremit- were turned up at a quarter before six,
ting attention to the few sick on all and both decks were well rubbed with
occasions, I am much indebted, I need stones and warm sand before eight
make no apology for inserting."—We o'clock, at which time, as usual at sea,
cannot, however, enter on this subject both officers and men went to break
at length ; suffice it to observe, that fast. Three quarters of an hour be-
Captain Parry thus omits no opportu- ing allowed after breakfast for the men
nity of bringing his officers into notice, to prepare themselves for muster, we
thereby honouring himself as well as beat to divisions punctually at a quar-
them; and that their united exertions ter past nine, when every person on
on this point were crowned with such board attended on the quarter-deck,
success, that, of ninety-four persons and a strict inspection of the men took
absent eighteen months under the place, as to their personal cleanliness,
most trying circumstances, only one and the good condition as well as suffi-
died, and he of a previously formed cient warmth of their clothing. The
internal complaint, the particulars of reports of the officers being made to
which are given at length in corrobo- me, the people were then allowed to
ration of the fact.
walk about, or more usually to run
The next cares were to construct an round the upper deck, while I went
observatory ashore, a work of great la- down to examine the state of that be-
bour, the ground having become by low, accompanied by Lieut. Beechey,
this time extremely hard and the and Mr Edwards. The state of this
cold intense, to land the instruments, deck may be said, indeed, to have
and finally rig a temporary theatre on constituted the chief source of our
board the Hecla, in which the officers anxiety, and to have occupied by far
exhibited at intervals, throughout the the greater part of our attention at this
winter, their scenic powers. The pro- period. Whenever any dampness ap-
posal to do this was Captain Parry's, peared, or, what more frequently hape
and he adds, " I was readily seconded pened, any accumulation of ice had ta-
in it by the officers of both ships, and ken place during the preceding night,
our first performance was fixed for the the necessary means were immediate-
6th November, to the great delight of ly adopted for removing it; in the
the ship's companies. In these amuse- former case, usually by rubbing the
ments, I gladly took a part myself, wood with cloths, and then directing
considering that an example of cheer- the warm air-pipe towards the place :
fulness, by giving a direct countenance in the latter, by scraping off the ice,
to every thing that could contribute to so as to prevent its wetting the deck by
it, was not the least essential part of my any accidental increase of temperature.
duty, under the peculiar circumstances In this respect, the bed-places were
in which we were placed.”
particularly troublesome; the inner
On the 4th November, the sun de- partition, or that next the ship's side,
scended below their horizon, not again being almost unavoidably covered
to rise till the 8th of February, al. with more or less dampness or ice, ac
though visible for some days after and cording to the temperature of the deck
before, through the effect of refrac- during the preceding night. This in-


1821.]
293
Captain Parry's Voyage.
convenience might to a great degree parts a few hummocks were seen
have been avoided, by a sufficient thrown up, somewhat above the ge-
quantity of fuel to keep up two good neral level; nor did the land offer
fires on the lower deck, throughout much greater variety, being almost
the twenty four hours. But our stock entirely covered with snow except
of coals would by no means permit here and there a patch of bare ground
this, bearing in mind the possibility in some exposed situation, where the
of our spending a second winter with wind had not allowed the snow to re-
in the Arctic Circle ; and this comfort main. When viewed from the sum-
could only therefore be allowed on a mits of the neighbouring bills, on one
few occasions, during the most severe of those calm and clear days which
part of the winter.
not unfrequently occurred during the
“In the course of my examination winter, the scene was such as to in-
of the lower deck, I had always an op- duce contemplations, which had, per-
portunity of seeing those few men who haps, more of melancholy than of any
were in the sick list, and of receiving other feeling. Not an object was to
from Mr Edwards, a report of their be seen, on which the eye could long
respective cases; as also of consulting rest with pleasure, unless when direc-
that gentleman as to the means of im- ted to the spot where the ships lay,
proving the warmth, ventilation, and and where our little colony was plant-
general comfort of the inhabited parts ed. The smoke which there issued
of the ship. Having performed this from the several fires, affording a cer.
duty, we returned to the upper deck, tain indication of the presence of man,
where I personally inspected the men; gave a partial cheerfulness to this part
after which, they were sent to walk of the prospect; and the sound of
on shore, when the weather would voices, which, during the cold wea-
permit, till noon, when they return, ther, could be heard at a much greater
ed on board to dinner. When the day distance than usual, served now and
was too inclement for them to take then to break the silence which reign-
this exercice, they were ordered to run ed around us, a silence far different
round and round the deck, keeping from that peaceable composnre, which
step to a tune on a barrel organ, or, characterizes the landscape of a culti-
pot unfrequently, to a song of their vated country; it was the death-like
own singing. Among the men, were stillness of the most dreary desola-
a few who did not at first quite like tion, and the total absence of animated
this systematic mode of taking exera existence. Such, indeed, was the want
cise; but when they found that no of objects to afford relief to the eye,
plea, except that of illness, was ad- or amusement to the mind, that a
mitted as an excuse, they not only stone of more than usual size, appear-
willingly and cheerfully complied, but ing above the snow in the direction
made it the occasion of much humour in which we were going, immediately
and frolic among themselves. became a mark, on which our eyes
“ The officers who dined at two oʻ- were unconsciously fixed, and towards
clock, were also in the habit of occu- which we mechanically advanced.
pying one or two hours in the middle Dreary as such a scene must ne-
of the day in rambling on shore, even cessarily be, it could not, however, be
in our darkest period, except when a said to be wholly wanting in interest,
fresh wind and snow-drift confined especially when associated in the mind
them within the housing of the ships. with the peculiarity of our situation;
It may be well imagined that at this the object which had brought us hi-
period, there was but little to be met ther, and the hopes which the least
with in our walks on shore, which sanguine among us sometimes enter-
could either amuse or interest us. The tained, of spending a part of our next
necessity of not exceeding the limited winter in the more genial climate of
distance of one or two miles, lest a the South Sea Islands. Perhaps, too,
snow-drift, which often rises very sud, though none of us ventured to confess
denly, should prevent our return, add. it, our thoughts would sometimes in-
ed considerably to the dull and tedi- voluntarily wander homewards, and
ous monotony, which day after day institute a comparison between the
presented itself. To the northward rugged face of nature in this desolate
was the sea, covered with an unbro- region, and the livelier aspect of the
ken surface of ice, uniform in its daze happy land which we had left behind
zling whiteness, except that in some
US.


294
Captain Parry's Voyage.
[June,
“ We had frequent occasion, in our ed with a satisfaction of which it is
walks on shore, to remark the decep- easy to conceive the amount. On the
tion which takes place in estimating 1st of June, Captain Parry set off with
the distance and magnitude of objects, a party of volunteers, to explore the
when viewed under an unvaried sur- interior of the island.
face of snow. It was not uncommon The narrative of this excursion is
for us to direct our steps towards what not very interesting. The snow still
we took to be a large mass of stone, at lay for the most part thick upon the
the distance of half a mile from us, ground; and although here and there
but which we were able to take up in cleared away, and a little vegetation
our hands after one minute's walk. commenced, the few geographical, mi-
This was more particularly the case, neralogical, and botanical observations,
when ascending the brow of a hill, which could be made under such cira
nor did we find that the deception be cumstances, cast but a meagre interest
came less on account of the frequency over the monotonous transactions of
with which we experienced its effects.” such a journey. The portion of the
Pp. 123–125.
whole, we readily own, which we our-
On the 3d of February, the refrac- selves regard with most pleasure, is
tion of the atmosphere again brought the account given of the good-hu-
the sun in sight, not thus so soon, moured inventiveness of the seamen,
however, by a day or two, as had been who spread a blanket upon their cart
expected ; nor although it very much as a sail, to lighten its drag, when the
distorted the outline, particularly the wind was in their favour. When cut-
following day, did the observations ting the canal for the ships to enter
give it above jº 24" 04', at the altitude Winter Harbour, they had had re-
of 20', the thermometer at the time course to a similar contrivance, to as-
standing 38' below zero, and the ba- sist them in floating out of the passage
rometer at 29.96 inches. The mean the blocks of ice cut away; and Cap-
refraction, per table, at the same alti- tain Parry, who has the rare felicity
tude, and under ordinary circum- not to be above laughing when he is
stances, is about 30'. From this time amused, records both circunstances,
the days lengthened so rapidly, that, and introduces the latter into one of
on the 7th of April, it was light enough those beautiful plates, with which he
at midnight to read off the thermome- has at once embellished and illustrated
ter with ease. A variety of optical his work. They are little vagaries like
and meteorological phenomena now these, generally promoting, always ex-
engaged their attention, particularly bilarating, the service in which they are
halos and parhelia of great beauty. engaged, which distinguish British sea-
But the weather still continued in- men when well treated and conducted,
tensely cold, and although such had and repaying, as they always do, such
been the influence of the sun when it treatment and conduct, with confi-
nad only one degree of meridian alti- dence, attachment, and good humour ;
tude, the thermometer in the shade -and long, very long may they be
rose from 400 to 350 below zero, when thus their general characteristics !
it remained 17 hours above the hori During the whole spring, hunting
zon it still fell occasionally to 310. parties were kept constantly out, with
Marks of thawing on the shore conti- various success, musk oxen, deer,
nuing rare and indistinct.
hares, brent-geese, (Anas bernicla),
About the middle of May, Captain ptarmigan, and a few plover, consti-
Parry caused the ice to be cut imme- tuting the chief returns. These fresh
diately round the ships, when its ave- stores were distributed with the most
rage thickness throughout the harbour rigorous impartiality, according to re-
was determined to be between seven gulations facetiously called the «Game
and eight feet; and having thus got laws." Great quantities of a species of
them again afloat, the housings were sorrel, (Rumex digynus,) found in this
removed, and preparations made to country only on the summits of the
take in the requisite quantity of bal- highest mountains, were gathered in
last, to make up for stores expended, the immediate vicinity of the ships,
and to rig them out again. "On the and its use was encouraged as much as
24th of the same month, a few drops possible. On the whole, as we have
of rain fell, or were said to have fallen, said, nothing could be more satisface
on the Greenland master's face, while tory than the general health of all, and
walking out; and the report was hail- their spirits bounded to the prospect


298
Captain Parry's Voyage.
(June,
the dwarf-willow, sartfraga oppositi- is to obtain a certain quantity or rate
folia, first seen in flower on the ed of correction for the attraction of the
June, rumcr digynus, poppy, scurvy ship's hull, applicable to all cases in a
grass, and draba or whetlow-grass. A given ratio to the direction of the ship's
farge pine-tree was found buried in the head, and the intensity of the magnetic
sand near the south end of Melville attraction of the earth's pole in diffe-
Island, about 300 yards from the rent circumstances; but then this ra-
beach; another smaller one on the west tio was to seek, and it has since been
coast ; along which also several pieces ascertained that it is different in diffe
of drift-wood were found scattered. No rent ships. Numerous observations
resident inhabitants were any where were however made on board the Hecla
met with west of Lancaster Sound, but with a view to this object, compared
both in Byam Martin and Melville with others on the shore and on the ice,
Island remains of Esquimaux huts and again connected with others on the
were discovered. These consisted of Dip, all made at the same time; and
"stones rudely placed in a circular or although some of the results may want
rather elliptical form; were from seven corroboration, they are all very inte
to ten feet diameter; the broad flat resting to nautical men. First, by a
sides of the stones standing vertically, great many experiments it was proved
and in all respects resembled those that the centre of attraction in the
seen at Hare Island the preceding voy- Hecla, and probably in all ships, was
age.” Except wolves, white foxes, on forward and amid-ships ; that accord-
which the former from some circum- ingly, when her head was due north or
stances were concluded to prey, and the south, there was no deviation, but that
Mus Hudsonius, no animals were seen this was at its maximum when the
throughout the winter at Melville head was east or west. Secondly, Cap-
Island. The return of spring brought tain Ross had said, “that when the
over from the continent musk-oxen in variation was considerable, the devia.
considerable droves, rein-deer, and tion increases in no settled propor-
hares. Only one white bear was seen tion;" but this appears to be a mis-
the whole year. The catalogue of birds take, probably arising from his not
is numerous, including grouse, (ptar- using a standard compass, Captain
migans,) first appearing on the 12th Parry says, "from the time we entered
May, plovers, brent-geese, eider and Lancaster Sound the sluggishness of
king-dueks, bank-swallows, (Hirundo the compasses, as well as the amount
Riparia) red phalarope, the first of of their irregularity, produced by the
which was seen on the ed June, boat- attraction of the ship, had been found
swains, (Lestris Parasiticus) ravens, rapidly, but uniformly to increase;"
one swan, together with gulls, kitti- and Captain Sabine adds in the Ap-
wakes, and other sea-fowl, among the pendix," whenever it could be done,
ice. A number of shells of the Venus the variation on a particular course
tribe was found in a ravine in Byam steered was ascertained by actual ob-
Martin Island ; and a hawl of the trawl servation ; but when the courses were
off the mouth of an inlet, south of Lan- many in the twenty-four hours, one
caster Sound, called the Clyde, brought set of azimuths with the ship’s head
up some marine insects, which are pro- north or south to shew the true vari-
bably quite new. Only one whale, and ation, and a second set with head east
as it was supposed, one seal, one at a or west to shew the maximum of dis
time at least, were seen about Melville turbance, were sufficient, with a very
Island a bad augury of the neigh- little practice, to enable the variation
bourhood of an open sea.
to be assigned for every point"-both
The theory of magnetism is still a demonstrating that the deviation was
secret, but this voyage has added not not capricious. And lastly, numerous
a little to the previous stock of facts on observations were made both with the
this interesting subject, and has the dipping and horizontal needle, with a
merit besides of suggesting some prac- view to prove the theory respecting the
tical hints in its employment. It was intensity of magnetic attraetion at dif-
originally a suggestion of the late Cap- ferent dips, and it was found to agree
tain Flinders, that it was desirable in very nearly indeed with the fact; on
all ships to have some place selected which Captain Sabine adds, "It may
where the same compass should be con- perhaps be useful to remark, that
- stantly kept, and all others used on when the ratio of the variation of the
board referred to it. The object of this magnetic force to the dip shall be
3


1921.)
Captain Parry's Voyage.
297
1
1
1
thoroughly ascertained by experiment, which they are taken, for which only
it may become a measure of difference arbitrary allowances can be made.
in the dip far more accurate in high The range of the thermometer du:
latitudes than actual observation by ring the time the expedition was west
the dipping needle."
of Lancaster Sound, and between 740
Two clocks belonging to the Royal and 75° north latitude, was on board
Society of London, and which had ori- 110°, the maximum being + 60°, and
ginally gone round the world with the minimum -500. On shore, and on
Captain Cook, accompanied this expen theice, theminimum was 550. At the
dition, together with a pendulum pre- temperature of --24°, the smoke from
pared by Captain Kater, similar to that the funnels was observed scarcely at all
he employed in his own experiments to ascend, but to escape in a horizon-
along our coast. With these in the tal direction ;* and such difficulty had
former and late voyage, four sets of it at this time to blend with the at-
observations have been taken at dif- mosphere, it was once distinctly smelt
ferent high latitudes, with a view to in a current two miles distant from the
determine the ellipticity of the earth, ship. The severe cold here quoted was
and their comparison with each other not particularly disagreeable in calm
is stated by Captain Sabine, as giving weather; butalthough the thermometer
respectively
of uniformly rose with wind, even many
314.3, 313.6, 514.2, 312.6,
degrees in a gale from the S.S.E., the
the equatorial radius for the com- effect produced by this agitation of the
pression at the poles. In the Con- atmosphere was quite overpowering.
noissance des Tems, (French Nauti- A few individuals had their hands
cal Almanack) for 1816, the mean of a frost-bitten, particularly on one occa-
great many previous observations of
sion, when the observatory on shore
the same nature is stated at for the caught fire, and was with difficulty
319
Northern Hemisphere, and
for
saved. One sailor's hands were then
311.6 50 thoroughly penetrated with cold,
the Southern. And in like manner, of when they were immersed in water for
four considerable arcs, measured at the purpose of being thawed, a film of
different times in Peru, France, Lap- ice was formed on the surface. A fact
land, and India, a comparison between which we have before seen stated on the
the first and second gives be- authority of M.Larrey, surgeon-general
308.6;
tween the first and third, 329.3;
to the French army in the Moscow cam-
be-
paign, respecting the influence of se-
tween the second and third, 507.5; and vere cold on the mental faculties, is
corroborated by Captain Parry, p. 108.
between the second and fourth, 307.17; " They,” says he, alluding to some
while, from the lunar motions, preces- men who had been accidentally expo-
sion of the equinoxes, and other as sed to it, “ looked wild, spoke thick
tronomical data, it is computed by and indistinctly; and it was impossi-
La Place and others, variously, at
ble to draw from them a rational an-
3147
swer to any of our questions. After
The near agreement of being on board for a short time, the
these results may perhaps be better mental faculties appeared gradually to
appreciated by some readers, when return,” &c. The only other affection
they are told that the most remote of besides these, which was induced by
them do not involve a doubt even of a the weather, was snow-blindness,
single mile, in the relative lengths of which on all occasions readily yielded
the polar and equatorial diameters of to the remedies applied.
the earth. And their differences seem The mean of the barometer through
inseparable from the nature of the ob- out the same period was 29.874 inches,
servations on which they are founded, the maximum 30.86, the minimum
which are liable to be affected by a 29.00. It would appear, that as a
variety of minute circumstances, even weather glass, this instrument is only
the nature of the soil, and situation in useful in medium temperatures. It
1
+
1
1
1
sov, and in
Captain Parry acquaints us in a note, that a similar observation was made at York
Fort, Hudson's Bay, in the year 1795, but not till the thermometer fell to -360; and
in spring, even at Melville Ísland, when the air was probably already somewhat tainted
by exhalations, the smoke ascended perpendicularly at -380.
VOL. IX.
2 0


298
Captain Parry's Voyage.
[June,
is well known that in tropical climates The halos, with their accompanying
its indications are very uncertain, and parhelia and paraselenes, seen at Mel-
Captain Parry remarks, that at Mel- ville Island, were, as usual in such
ville Island it rather accompanied than latitudes, exceedingly brilliant; but,
predicted changes of weather. Not- for the most part, they were regular,
withstanding Captain Ross's favour- and not unusual in their forms. The
able report of Adyes Sympiesometer, Auroræ Boreales were faint, generally
it does not appear that one accompa- seen in the south-west quarter, and
nied this expedition.
never affected either the electrometer
Similar anomalies in kind, although or the compasses.
less in degree, were observed in the Captain Parry, in the expedition
temperature of the sea at different which he is now conducting, is under-
depths, this voyage as the last. In stocd to intend to push through Hud-
Winter Harbour, at the depth of five son's or Cumberland Straits, and try
fathoms, the thermometer stood at his fortune in Repulse Bay, or Sir
+31°, and very near the superficial Thomas Roe's Welcome ; purposing, if
ice at +28°, while in the open air it he can find a passage in either of them,
was at -160; and as summer advan- to draw to the westward along the
ced in 1820, the shallow bank which main-land of America, and between it
immediately skirted the shore, could and the ice. In doing this he antici-
every where be traced by the greater pates some difficulties ; and before
progress of the ice towards dissolution. leaving England, he is said to have ex-
In Baffin's Bay, in like manner, the pressed, like a wise man, his desire
temperature for the first 100 fathoms that the public should be prepared to
was generally about 300, and lower hear of them. Yet we think that he
down it commonly fell, as far as 27° ;
will ultimately succeed; and having
but on one occasion, two different ex attempted, in the beginning of this
periments gave 330 at 320 fathoms, article, to rob him of the vulgar me-
while the first 100 stood as usual about rit of his past success, which by no
300. In high latitudes it would ap- vulgar claim, however, seems to us, as
pear probable, that the temperatures
we have already intimated, to belong
depend so much on local circumstances to Mr Barrow more than to any one,
of uncertain existence and very diffi-
we are most willing to say, now at the
cult investigation, that no theory will conclusion of it, that our hopes of his
be found uniformly to apply.
future success are chiefly founded on
• In one of our quotations we have als himself. His plan seems an excellent
ready adverted to the great distance at one, it is comparatively safe, it is his
which sounds were heard in the open clear-sighted, as when following out
own, and a man is never so zealous and
air, during the intense cold. This is
his
more particularly noticed, however, in
own plans. He has now had abun-
the following passage: “ We have of.
dant experience, his courage is un-
ten heard the people distinctly conver-
questionable, and his tact in main-
sing, in a common tone of voice, at the taining the discipline, health, spirits,
distance of a mile ; and to-day, (11th unanimity, and general efficiency of
February) I heard a man singing to
his crews, in very trying circumstan-
himself as he walked along the beach, ces, is demonstrated. But more than
at even a greater distance than this." all these we gather from a little anec-
P. 143. This apparently singular
dote thrust into a corner of his narra-
effect was owing to the uniform density tive, and which we take the liberty of
which the air maintained during the particularizing, because its value is not
long
night of this region; the same likely to be appreciated by the general
principle on which Humboldt, in his voked him with her bad sailing, and
beautiful Essay on the cataracts of the he entertained serious thoughts of re-
Orinoco, explains the increase of their
noise during the night, and whose con- moving her ship’s company, abandon-
verse, in like manner, accounts for that ing her, and proceeding on his mission
remarkable deadness of all sounds,
in the Hecla alone. As it happened,
which, it is said, accompanies the first it proved unnecessary to act on this
streamings of the Sirocco, or Harmat- idea ; and perhaps, in the particular
tan wind, and augments the terrors of case, it was somewhat hastily concei.
an impending hurricane, or earth- ved. But it would never have been
quake.
seriously deliberated on, unless by


1821.]
Captain Parry's Voyage.
299
one thoroughly intent on his object, other, as they often must in such a
full of real and perseverance and service, may well be expected to pos-
daring, penetrated with the spirit of sess that happyindependence of thought
his orders, not solicitous about their and action, which may enable him to
letter, or the responsibility, under unite them and succeed, where equal
which they were to be attended to; or even superior talents, a little more
and who, whenever the extremes of fettered, might possibly succumb.
prudence and rashness approach each
ON THE CHEETHAM LIBRARY.
The causes which give us pleasure met with in London-the remains of
in visiting any particular place, are King Richard's Chapel, in Crosby
various, and sometimes very opposite. Court. Surrounded by warehouses,
We do not exactly mean that pleasure and counting houses, itself now con-
produced by association of ideas, by verted into a packing room; this ve-
the connection or relationship of the nerable relic of antiquity, with its
scenes we are entering upon to former stone stairs and Gothic window, struck
times, persons, or events, but that sa- us with a force we shall never forget.
tisfaction, which arises from other We seemed in a second to have slip-
trains of thought, more immediate and ped from modern times, to the days
less abstracted in their deduction. Is of him, at whose birth “ the owl
there not, for instance, in the first shrieked, the night-crow cried, a bod:
sight of St Peter's at Rome, apart ing luckless time.” And the satisfac-
from the effect produced by its stri- tion we felt, was raised in proportion
king magnificence, a delightful thrill to our surprise. Such a revulsion in
of pleasure to meet with such an edi. the current of our ideas always carries
fice, in such a situation? Yet, what with it poignancy and relish. We lose
affinity has St Peter's to the temples or the pleasure of expectation in instan-
the Colisæum, or what has the dome taneous enjoyment, which that very
of a christian church to do near the loss makes more keen. In short, to
Columna Trajana, or the Arch of Con- know what pleasure is, we ought to
stantine? It is manifestly out of place, meet with the thing, which, of all
it awakes no ideas assimilating to those others, we most want, in the place,
connected with the absorbing interest where, of all others, we least expect to
of its city; yet still, its effect is un- find it. The man, who after journey
diminished, in communicating to the ing over the desart, finds at last, in
mind of the beholder, a throbbing its most arid track, a spring of fresh
sensation of delight. There is some water, and our great Moralist, after
thing, in fact, of surprise and unex- meeting in an Highland cottage with
pectedness, in the sudden change of Gataker's Treatise on Lots, would both
objects, a surprise gradually converted concur in assuring us, that life has few
intopleasure as we trace more intimate- greater sweetners, than the sudden
ly the relation between them, which and unannounced possession of that
rouses, quickens, and cheers us. A new which is least expected, though most
vein of thought unexpectedly crosses desired.
and intermingles with the old one, We were led into these speculations
and introduces with it, fresh subjects by a late visit to the library, founded
for contemplation, and new sources of by Humphrey Cheetham, in Manches,
entertainment. The mind cannot dwell ter; a venerable and praiseworthy in-
long on any particular train of thought, stitution, which is rendered more stri-
without experiencing somewhat of ja- king, by its presenting somewhat of
ded satiety, and therefore it is refresh, the appearance of a college, amidst
ed and invigorated by approaching the hurry and business which are al-
some sparkling and unhoped for foun, ways visible in a large manufacturing
tain of joy; Who is not delighted to town. It is pleasing to pass from the
meet in a place utterly barren and un- noise and dissonance of a crowded
promising, with something akin to street, into the comparatively still and
his habits, and congenial to his pur- silent court, of a spacious antique
suits? We well remember one of the mansion, with low-browed roofs, and
most pleasureable moments of our life, narrow windows, apparently of the
was in a sudden rencontre we once architecture of the time of James the


1821. )
The Cheetham Library.
301
last;
est, and least intellectual of the sons of Others we see, for which their writers,
earth, must be conscious of the high the martyrs of fame, have suffered
and lofty society into which he is in- mental torment, and bodily macera-
truding ; a society which no combina- tion, and all to subsist " like Hippo
tion of living talent can ever hope to crates's patients, and Achilles's horses
parallel. Before such a tribunal, be- in Homer, under naked nominations,"
fore such a galaxy of intellect and learn- and occupy, untouched and unregard-
ing, the haughty Aristarch himself ed, a corner in a library. Others which,
might have doffed without degradation after experiencing in their time a meed
“the hat which never vailed to human of rigid indifference and neglect, have
pride." We feel, as we reverence the now obtained xenpea ei as in the rolls
mighty spirits around us, that we are of Fame; and others the delight and
in some sort their brothers; and the admiration of their contemporaries,
very homage which we pay to their which now remain but to teach us the
majesty is itself the bond of our alli- instructive lesson, that
ance. What spectacle besides can be “When Fame's loud trump hath blown her
more wonderful? We are then where deepest blast,
the human mind is displayed in its Though loud the sound, the echo dies at
highest flights, and in its weakest ina-
nity; now in all its shades and varia- And Glory, like the phenix midst her fires,
tions of feeling or of subtilty; in all Exhales her odours, blazes, and expires."
its walks through science, and the cy Many are the lofty and gratifying
cle of its thousand intelligences; and thoughts and contemplations which a
in all its wide diffusion over the pro- visit to a library will give rise to. It
vinces and principalities of its empire, is there where the mind wakes into a
calling into
action, and bringing forth consciousness of its own powers and
its power, like the unsheathing of wea- capabilities, and burns to measure its
pons from their scabbards; in its acute- strength with the heroes of literature,
ness, subtleizing to infinity; in its soli- the mighty masters of science. It is
dity, laying foundations of induring there that the appetite for knowledge,
and immoveable strength; in its appre- which, however it may lie dormant
hension, receiving all the stores of a-while, can never be entirely extin-
learning and knowledge; in its pene- guished, sharpens and increases in be-
tration, pervading with a glance the holding the food for which it longs,
worlds of thought and science ; in its and prepares for a full and pleasing
profundity, diving into clepths forbid- enjoyment of the exhaustless banquet
den, and denied to its nature ; and in before it. It is there that the soul ex-
its imagination, creating, inventing, pands with a consciousness of the task
and producing in measure inexhausti- it has to overcome, and the matter it
ble and unspent; now marching on- has to grapple with ; and rises with
ward with proud and triumphant step, proud and confident superiority to the
—now halting in its course with feeble mastery of knowledge in all her cells.
tardiness-now deviating into byeroads It is there that one feels a desire to shut
struck out by its own adinirable inge- out the world and its concerns, and live
nuity, yet still ever great in its extra- like Magliabecchi in the Vatican, buried
vagancies, dignified in its perversions, in books, to contract an intimacy with
memorable in its debasement. Others every one of the thousands of writers
may delightedly visit in veneration the deposited in its shelves,-poets, ora-
tombs of authors, but to us their no- tors, historians, philosophers, and di-
blest mausoleum appears to be in a li- vines, and receive all their stores of
brary where they are inshrined amougst thought and science, though but as the
a company of kindred and congenial water which passes through the urns of
souls. The one can but testify their the Danaides. It is there that the pain-
mortality, but he who meets them in ful feeling of the impossibility of sa-
the other, will know they are immor- tisfying the wishes of the soul is late-
tal. Westininster Abbey can present no- ly and reluctantly acknowledged ; and
thing so touching, yet so elevating-so it is there we should be almost led,
inspiring, yet so said, as the Bodleian. were it not for the hope of the fruition
There we see works which have out- of our desires in a future state, to deem
lived monuments and pyramids, still that inexplicable and unassuagcable
surviving to the glory of their authors craving atter knowledge, which is im-
in unspent and undiminished youth. Planted in our natures, to be given us
13


302
The Cheetham Library.
[June,
but as a cruel mockery, and tantalizing Over the fire place, surmounted by his
delusion.
coat of arms, is the portrait of Hum-
But to return to our subject matter. phrey Cheetham himself, the chari-
From the library you pass into the tible “ dealer in Manchester commo-
reading-room, not, however, without dities," as he has been called, to whose
having to encounter a formidable array beneficence this excellent institution is
of sights and monsters, more grotesque owing. Fashions and manners have
even than those which appalled the wonderfully changed. What would
stout heart of the Trojan prince in his the spruce and dapper warehousemen
descent to hell. There are seals and of the present day think of such an
hairy men, speaking trumpets and apparition, were they to see him pass-
stakes, and fishes and alligators, and ing down Cannon-Street; or what
“such small deer,” not forgetting ske- would their masters, to hear of a Man-
letons preserved in bottles, and Oliver chester merchant, who exercised him-
Cromwell's sword. This last great ac- self in the reading of godly divines ?
quisition, now laid up in peace, may, He appears, indeed, a marvellous staid
indeed, exclaim that Time has made it personage, somewhat like the old man
acquainted with strange bed-fellows. in Terence,
Yet it is considered a trophy of no
Confidens, catus,
sinall consequence in the place. Many
Tristis severilas inest in vultu.
a stare of vacant wonderinent has been
directed to it by the rustics, in their The windows of this room are in
holiday visitations, and even the juve- unison with the rest of its structure,
nile stentors before alluded to, in do- and though they do not absolutely "ex-
ling out the bead-roll of their calami- clude the light," yet there is a certain
ties, attest its high importance, by degree of dimness in it, which does not
a proportionate exaltation of voice. ill agree with the dark pannels and
Through a door studded with nails in beams by which it is incased and over-
the ancient fashion, you pass into the hung. At the farther end is a recess,
reading-room, an antique apartment, which being almost windowed round,
with oaken casements, massive chairs is rendered a little lightsomer than the
of such heaviness and contexture, as other parts of the roofd. It is plea-
utterly to defy all muscular power, and sant to sit in this sequestered nook,
tables of make and workmanship truly the locus benedictus of this ancient
patriarchal, one of which you are in- place, and view from thence the gal-
formed by your guide, is composed of lery with its shelves of books, sinking
as many pieces as there are days in a by degrees into duskiness, or to watch
year, 365. Around are disposed dusky from the window the little crowd be-
looking portraits of eminent divines, low, perforining their evolutions in po
who have been born in or near Man- very silent key, and to listen while the
chester, Whitaker, Howell, * Latimer, hour strikes on the oaken table before
and Brailforil, of the latter of whom you to the chimes of the Collegiate
the facetious Fuller saith, “ lle was a Church, falling full and audible on
most holy and mortified man, who se- the ear. Still pleasanter is it to resign
cretly in his closet would so weep for the mind to those fantasies, which, in
his sins, one would have thought he a place like this, are wont to rise and
would never have smiled again, and steal upon it with a soft but potent
then appearing in public, he would be fascination--and to suffer the imagi-
so harmlessly pleasant, one would think nation to raise up its visions of the
he had never wept before.” No such worthies of olden time. To embody
marks of celestial benignity are here and impersonate our forefathers, while
visible in his countenance; he looks we are tarrying in their edifice, and
truly as grim-visaged as Herod him- while we are drinking " at the pure
self in the Massacre of the Innocents. wells of English undefiled," to picture
*
• It is not, perhaps, generally known, that we owe the original of bottled ale to the
person who compiled the famous catechism. Thus, however, relateth one of his biogra.
phers : “ Without offence, it may be remembered, that leaving a bottle of ale, when
fishing, in the grass, he found it some days afterwards no bottle but a gun, such the
sound at the opening thereof." And this is believed (Casualty is mother of more inven.
tions than Industry,) the origin of bottled ale in England.


30
The Cheetham Library.
[June,
and citadels ; “ the dim indistinction intense, in contemplation most su-
with which all things are lapt in the blime? There is a pleasure, an intel-
bundle of time;" the vast distance lectual zest, a high and genial delight
which the eye aches to measure; the and enjoyment in such a scene, which
memorable actions, achievements, per- once conceived, we cannot ever permit
sons, and places, which it has covered to be forgotten. What are the visions
as if with a shroud; the wonderful of the future to meditations so produ-
intermixture it presents of savageness ced? They may interest our human
and refinement, of brutality and wis- feelings more, but can they fill, occu-
dom, of atrocity and magnanimity, of py, and expand the mind like those of
poverty and splendour, of high aspira- the past? The prospective creatures
tion and grovelling debasement, must of fancy may for a while float before
contribute to make it a pageant varied, our eyes, and dazzle us with their
magnificent, and imposing.* Is there glittering Inies and glowing brilliancy;
not something in the very names of but they all die away, decay and va-
Nimrod and Cambyses, of Babylon, nish betore that deeper, grauder, most
Tyre, and Carthage, of Sidon and potent and efficacious spirit of imagi.
Thebes, of Assaracus, Herostratus, nation, which broods over the magni-
and Achilles, which strikes the inind ficence of the past, which resides amidst
with a sensation which no words can the marble wastes of Tadmor, and the
explain ? Do we not feel, on seeing the “ mighty nations of the dead,” which
pyramids, arches, obelisks, and monu- gives even to the future a more vivid
ments of other times, a something lustre from its reflection, and which is,
which is inexplicable and incommuni- in fine, that eternal and inexhaustible
cable, but composed, nevertheless, of fountain, from which History catches
all the noblest elements of the soul, of her colouring, and Poetry lights her
what in admiration is most fervent, in flame.
pity most deep, in imagination most But we have involuntarily strayed
• The following curious recapitulation of the events of ancient history is taken from
Richard Carpenter's “Experience, History, and Divinitie.” It is very striking, and not,
perhaps, generally known. The author was twice a protestant, and twice a papist, and
ended, we believe, like Gibbon, with being nothing at all :-“ This world hath bin al-
wayes a passenger ; for, it hath passed from age to age, through so many hundred ge-
nerations, by them, and from them to us. Adam lived a while, to eat an apple, and to
teach his posterity to sinne and to dye; and the world passed by him. Caine lived a
while, to kill his honest brother Abel, and to bury him in the sands, as if God could not
have found him, or the winde have discovered what was done, and afterwards to be
haunted with frightfull apparitions, and to be the first vagabond ; and the world passed
by him. Noah lived a while, to see a great floud, and the whole world sinke under
water ; to see the weary birds drop amongst the waves, and men stifled on the tops of
trees and mountaines ; and the world passed by him. David lived a while, to be caught
with a vaine representation, and to commit adultery; to command murther, and after-
wards to lament, and call himselfe sinner; and when he had done so, the world shuffed
him off, and passed by him. Solomon lived awhile, to sit like a man upon his royall
throne, as it were guarded with lyons; and to love counterfeit pictures in the faces of
strange women ; and while he was looking babies in their eyes, the world stole away,
and passed by King Solomon, and all his glory. Judas lived a while, to handle a purse ;
and, as an old author writes, to kill his father, to marry his mother, to betray his inaster,
and to hang himself; and the world turned round as wel as he, and passed by the tray-
tor. The Jews lived awhile, to crucifie him who had chosen them for his onely people
out of all the world ; and quickly after the world, weary of them, passed by them and
their common-wealth. The old Romanes lived awhile, to worship wood and stones; to
talk a little of lupiter, A pollo, Venus, Mercury, and to gaze upon a great statue of
Hercules, and cry, hee was a mighty man ; and while they stood gazing and looking
another way, the world passed by them and their great empire. The papists live awhile,
to keepe time with dropping beads, or, rather to lose it; to cloath images, and keepe
them warm ; and to tell most wonderfull stories of miracles, which God never thought
of, but as he foresaw, and found them in their fancies, and in the midst of a story, be
fore it is made a compleat lye, the world passes by them, and turnes them into a story.
The Jesuits live awhile, to be called religious men, and holy fathers; to frame a face,
to be very good and godly in the out-side ; to vex and disquiet princes; to slander all
those whom they cannot, or gaine, or recover to their faction ; and the world at length
finding them to be disseinblers, dissembles with them also, and looking friendly upon
them, passes by them.”


1821.]
Cheetham's Library.
803
from our subject, and it is now time thee Pharamond to thy corner, or that
for us to conclude. If thy footsteps edifying and moral work, Mat. Inge-
lead thee, good reader, to the vener- lo's Bentivoglio and Urania ; and so
able place which has suggested these needest thou have no fear of being too
speculations, letusadvise thee to amuse violently interested in thy subject to
thyself with something suitable, and leave off with pleasure. What is that
not incongruous with its character. deep and forcible interest which chains
There is a fitness in all things. There you to a book, to the delightful equa-
are other places for perusing the ephe-bility to be enjoyed in the perusal of
meral productions of the day, circula- works like these? There is, too, an-
ting libraries for novels, and commer- other advantage. You cannot get
cial rooms for newspapers. If these through them too soon. How often
be the food for which thy mind is do we feel, in perusing the Scotch no-
most disposed, to such places be thy vels, the unpleasant reflection that we
walks confined. But go not to the li- are getting nearer and nearer the end
brary of Humphrey Cheetham, without the end of our book, and the end of
opening one of the time-honoured our pleasure. Here, however, the
guests." If classical learning be the reader may range securé, undisturbed
study most gratifying to thy palate, by any such unpleasant anticipations.
take down the Basil edition of How But if, on the contrary, thou visitest
race, with the notes of eighty commen- the Cheetham Library as a menagerie,
tators, and read through the commen- spectacle, and show, as a collection of
taries on the first ode, thou wilt find snakes, skeletons, porpoises, and cro-
it no very easy or dispatchable matter. codiles; or if thou enterest it in the
If divinity bé thy pursuit, let one of same manner, and for the same pur-
the compendious folios of Caryl on poses, as thou wouldst enter a loun-
Job minister to thy amusement, and ging-room, or a fashionable booksel
thus conduce to thy attainment of that ler's shop, then, though we will not
virtue of which Job was so eminently wish unto thee the ass's ears of Midas,
the possessor. If Natural History pré- or those other calamities which are
sent more attractions to thee than class mentioned by the eloquent defender
sical learning or divinity, Ulysses Al- of poetry, yet “ thus much curse"
drovandus will find thee employment must we send thee on behalf of the
enough, without resorting to the later founder, that thou mayst be confined
publications of Pennant or Buffon. amongst the productions of the Mi-
But should thy thoughts, good reader, nerva Press, and be kept on prison
have a different direction, and all these allowance till thou hast read them
studies be less agreeable to thee than through.
the study of light reading, take with
T.
ADVENTURE IN HAVANA.
I had not spent more than a fortnight sistance whatever. At last, I lost all
in Havana, when I was seized with sense of external objects. I dreamed
the yellow fever. This disease prevails that I went on board the vessel I had
there, to a great degree, during sum been inquiring about, and that we saila
mer and autumn, and makes dreadful ed down the harbour with a fair wind.
ravages arnong foreigners of every de- Suddenly, from some cause or other,
scription. It sometimes attacks people I fell overboard, and sunk to a consi-
very suddenly, and almost without any derable depth. When I regained the
previous warning.
surface, I saw the vessel a little way
When first taken ill, I was in a mere before me, and called loudly for help,
chant's warehouse, making inquiries but she swept along, under a press of
about a vessel in which I proposed go- canvass, and no one in her seemed to
ing to the eastern extremity of the island. hear, or pay the least attention to my
As the owner was out, I determined to cries. I looked behind me in despair,
waituntil he came home, andaccording to discover if any boat was approach-
ly seated myself on a bale of goods. I ing to afford assistance, but, to my hor-
gradually sunk into a state of feverish ror, saw the whole surface of the har-
torpidity, during which I had an indis- bour covered with the floating bodies
tinct conception of where I was, but of dead seamen tied upon planks. The
could not rouse myself, or make any re- vessels around seemed deserted, rotten,
VOL. IX.
2 P


306
Adventure in Havdna.
(June,
and falling to pieces, and the most aw- person is provided with an apartment,
ful stillness prevailed in every direc- attendance, medicines, and diet, and
tion. In my agonies I caught hold of may send for any physician he chooses
one of the corpses, and seated myself In summer, houses of this kind are
upon it. The limbs and muscles of the full of Europeans, who die very sud-
dead man were instantaneously relax- denly, and in great numbers.
edhe uttered a horrible shout, burst One night during my convalescence,
the cords that tied him, and caught me I was disturbed, after I had gone to
firmly in his arms. We immediately bed, by repeated groans and the sound
began to sink, and the struggles I made of hard breathing, which proceeded
to extricate myself from his graspawa- from the chamber below mine. I next
kened me.
heard some person walking quickly
I continued for some time in a state backwards and forwards, and then a
of overpowering agitation and giddi- noise of a heavy body falling on the
ness; and on recovering a little, per-' floor.
ceived that there was no one in the As the people of the house were in
Warehouse but an old Spaniard, to bed, I got up, that I might inquire if
whom I could not explain my situa- any one wanted assistance, and went
tion, as he did not understand a word down to the door of the apartment,
of English. I therefore walked out, which was half open. On looking in,
and endeavoured to make my way to I saw a man dressed in a bed-gown,
the boarding-house where I lodged; pacing hurriedly about, and sometimes
but my confusion was such, that in muttering a few words. A lamp stood
spite of all my efforts at recollection, I upon the table, and when the light fell
got bewildered, and at the same time upon his countenance, I perceived it
so fatigued, that I was obliged to take to be much flushed and agitated.
refuge in a coffee-house near thechurch I entered the room, saying I feared
of St Domingo.
he was ill, and would call up a nurse
Here I sat upon a bench, stun- to attend bim. “Ay, ay !” cried he,
ned by the rattling of billiards, and “all a damned imposition. They've
unheeded by the crowds of Spaniards got me here hard and fast, and don't
that bustled around. I knew that care how it goes with me-But they
I was attacked by the yellow fever, won't make much more out of me,
and I also knew that few of my age that's one corpfort. Oh, sir ! I'm a
or temperament ever recovered from miserable man-- I want to write a let-
it. I was a friendless stranger in a ter-I want pen, ink, and paper-A
foreign land. But the thoughts of small sheet will do."
all this did not depress me. I felt as “ I entreat you to return to bed,"
if I could die more calmly in a coun- said F; “you shall have all these are
try, and among a people, whose lan- ticles to-morrow morning."
guage I did not even understand, than “ To-morrow morning!” cried he
at home, in the midst of frienils and as- with vehemence. “ You don't know
sociates. The presence of the latter what you're talking about. The doc-
wouldendear life, and their grief would tor told me to-day-yes he did that
embitter its termination ;-but when I wouldnt live till then-May God
every thing around was revolting, af- Almighty prove him a liar ! I've got
fectionless, and gloomy, the world had into a wrong port here-Why the hell
no hold upon the heart, and could be didn't we all go to the bottom last voy-
relinquished without regret.
age :- This is a dreadful place to die
Though excessively weak, I imme- in-Five dollars a-day," continued
diately left the coffee-room, and soon he, raising his voice ; " What con-
reached my lodgings, which fortunate- founded sharks they are !My birth
ly were not far distant; and from them here an't worth the tenth of that
I was removed, by the advice of a me- Well, well, when I'm dead I hope my
dical man, to a sick-house.
corpse will bring a plague upon the
The establishment which is known house, and infect every one that comes
by this name in Havana, resembles a near it-May every Spanianthat
private hospital, it being intended for meets my burial in the street drop
the accommodation of strangers and fo- down dead, and beeternally damned!
reigners who are seized with the fever, I was at Ramsay's funeral the other
and who have no one to take charge of day-The coffin was hardly big enough
them during their illness. The sick to hold him-and what a burying-


1824.]
Adventure in Havana,
307
of these ways.
place !-The coffins are pled above do, who has enjoyed their delightful
one another, and their corners stick climate, and all the good things which
through the ground-The carrion, they abundantly afford. He at last
crows flew about, as if they were glad began to joke with me about my fond-
to see us in our black clothes-l'il beness for my native place, which, he
laid there by and bye.-Lord help said, was only fit for the habitation of
me !-But I must write that letter." bears and seals. Now it's so natural
Perceiving that it would be in vain for a man to love his country, that
to attempt to compose him, I went up none but a wretch would try to put
to my own room, and brought down him out of conceit with it'; and 1
writing materials. “Ay, that's right,” should not be surprised to hear even
said he ; " thank you. I must write one of these Spaniards say, that this
to my wife-Poor young creature, infernal hole of a town was the finest
she's in the Orkneys now—We could place in the world.
live there for two weeks on the money “ Well, this young fellow's raillery
I'm now paying for a day's board and went farther every day, and began to
lodging. I will tell her that I am well, cut me to the heart. I often tossed
and coming home soon ; for if she about in my birth for hours together,
knew I was dying, she would break thinking on his sharp jokes, and wish-
her heart-Two three days ago, I ho- ing to death that I had the power of
ped to have seen her again, but this answering them with effect, and hand-
infernal fever has taken me aback with ling him as severely as he did me; for
a vengeance."
he was easy of speech, and had a cool
“ I suppose you are master of some temper ; but I was not gifted in either
vessel in the port,” said I.
“ No, no, notinaster," returned “ One day at dinner, when he was
he;
my days of being master were going on in his usual style, I lost patience
over long ago, though I once com- altogether, and called him a liar, and
manded as nice a sea-boat as ever went threw my fork at hiz headl. He turned
before the wind- howsomever, that's as white as that sheet of paper for a
neither here nor there now. But I'll moment, but soon recovered himself,
tell you the whole. About two years and did not offer to touch me. I grew
since, I sailed a small vessel, and own more and more provoked ; for I had
ed a part of her. Our trade lay chief- hoped that he would strike
me, and so
ly in contraband goods, and well was give me a fair reason for closing upon
she fitted for it, for nothing on the seas him, and choking him, or beating his
could keep up with her. Ay, many a life out. But as I could not do this
time, when chased by a king's cutter, with any show of justice, I ordered
we thought it no more than play, be- him forward among the seamen, for-
cause we knew we could get clear of bidding him, at the same time, ever to
her the moment we had a mind. enter the cabin again.
“Well, one day as we were hauling “He obeyed so quietly, thatmy mind
out of a French port, a young man came quite misgave me about what would be
alongside in a boat, and entreated hard the end of the business ; for I knew he
to be taken on board. Now, you know was a lad of spirit, and never would for-
sínugglers never like to take passen- give the disgraceful insult I had put up-
gers; so I flatly refused to have any on him. That afternoon I sent him his
thing to do with him. However, he trunk, and he never afterwards came
told a rigmarole story about his being farther aft than the main-mast. Heused
50 short of money, that if he was ob to remain below all day; but generally
liged to remain any longer in France, made his appearance upon deck when
he would not have enough to pay his it got dark, and sat there in deep
passage home, and said I might land thought. Often at night, when all
him in whatever British port I chose. were in their births, except myself
Well, I took him on board, and we and the helmsman, and other two
set sail. At first, things went plea- hands, I have observed him gazing
santly enough between us; for he was stedfastly upon me for hours together.
a clever young man, and had a world This behaviour would fill my mind
of knowledge. I'used often to talk with such fearful forebodings, as kept
to bim of the Orkney Islands, of which me froin sleeping when my watch was
I was a native, and always spoke of over.
them as partially, as every one must " We got into port after a tolera-


308
Adventure in Havana.
[June,
bly fair passage. We had scarcely repenting that I had taken such a poor
dropped anchor before he came to me, revenge. He has only been choaked
as I stood by the cabin-door, and re- with water, thought í, and the like
quested to know how much he owed happens to many an honest seaman.
me for his passage ; adding, that I “Next morning, on going to my
had used him very ill, since he had window, which looked to the harbour,
never yet said any thing with the in- I observed a great crowd of people ga-
tention of hurting my feelings in the thered round
something, but could not
least degree. These fair words threw see what it was for their heads. I
me off my guard ; for after having grew quite dizzy, and began to trem-
received from him the sum due me, I ble all over. They soon began to move
foolishly allowed him to go on shore. along the street below me. I ran back
He went direct to the Custom-house, from the window, and then to it again,
and informed against me. Whether four or five times, impelled by a dread-
he really knew, or only suspected, that ful curiosity, which I feared equally
I had prohibited articles on board, the to resist, and to yield to. However, I
devil perhaps knows best; but be that got a glimpse as they passed along,
as it may, the officers were alongside His head was sadly mangled; but I
in the course of half an hour. The didn't do that, you know.
short and the long of it was this “I was well convinced, that my
both the vessel' and cargo were seized. only safety lay in making off as fast as
“This was a terrible blow. The own- possible ; and I embarked that very
ers owed me a good round sum of mo- day in a sloop bound for the north of
ney; but so far from expecting them to Scotland, We had a most baffling time
pay it, I felt convinced that they would of it, and it appeared doubly so to me,
throw me into jail, whenever they got because I was continually thinking
hold of me, I had settled my wife on what terrible tidings I would bring to
a small place in the Orkneys. Part of my wife and children, and how desti-
its price was paid, and the remainder tute we would all be.
had now become due; but the seizure “ From the sloop, I went on board
of the vessel at once deprived me of another vessel, which carried me to that
those means of making up the sum part of the Orkneys, where my fami.
that I had counted upon. It was some ſy were. Notwithstanding the dark
time before I quite knew the terrible weight that lay upon my mind, I felt
ness of my misfortune; but at last it a pleasantness of heart, when I saw my
burst upon me like a hurricane-a« native place again, It almost set me a
sailing me first in one quarter, and crying, and I thought more of my
then in another.
country than ever, when I reflected
“ At night I wandered about the upon what I had brought myself to,
streets, not knowing what to do. It by standing up in its defence.
was dark, and rained, and blew hard; “ I soon broke the disastrous intelli,
but I did not mind the weather. In gence to my wife. As we were in ab-
passing a door, where there was a light, solute poverty, I found it necessary to
I saw the young man who had betray- ask relief from my father-in-law. This
ed me, walking along the opposite side was a trying business, for he was a
of the way, I followed him, and many hard tyrannical man, and had just
a time could have knocked him over, married a second wife; however, af-
without being seen by any one ; but ter a deal of parleying and abuse, he
I desisted, for I had not resolved upon consented to take my family into his
what sort of revenge I was to take. own house, provided they would make
Revenge I determined to have, and themselves useful. As for me, he said,
that very night too. At last he went I must shift for myself. By his re.
along the pier- I looked round a mo- commendation, I soon got a birth on
ment-every thing seemed quiet-I board a small vessel bound for New
slipped behind him, and pushed him York. From that port, I sailed in a
over. The tide was just coming in, ship to this here Havana. A mercan,
and the dashing of the sea, and the tile house lately offered me the charge
noise of the wind, drowned his cries, of a vessel, destined for a very un-
if he uttered any. I heard him plunge healthy part of the West Indies, which
-that was enough for me.
I immediately accepted, for I knew I
“ That night I slept at a mean ta- could make a good voyage of it. But
vern. I did not sleep. I lay in bed, this accursed fever has moored me fast,


1891.]
Adventure in Havana.
309
and death will soon make all things Early next morning, the superin-
square. Now I have told you all this tendant of the house came into my
black story ; I would rather the whole room, and informed me, that a sick
world should know it, than that I gentleman below wished anxiously to
should die. Is there no help? Is there speak with me. I immediately ac-
no power in physic? -Oh, it would be companied him to the apartment of
nothing to founder at sea !--Nothing the stranger, who took no notice of us
compared with dying in this gloomy when we entered, for he had sunk in-
deliberate way.. But I must begin to a sort of lethargic slumber. His
writing, only I'm afraid I'll not be face was deadly pale, and the sharp-
able to make out a connected letter.' ness of his features indicated approach-
"If you insist upon writing to your ing death. My attendant having roused
wife,” said I, " let me persuade you him, and mentioned the cause of my
to tell her truly in what state you visit, left us together.
are.”
“ I am informed," said he, endea-
Nonsense, nonsense,” cried he, vouring to raise himself up in his bed,
“ I'm not such a wretch. I suppose " that you are of the medical profesa
you think, because I pushed a devil sion, and I wish to ask one question,
into the sea, I have no mercy about which, for the sake of a dying man, I
me at all. Revenge is sweet, you know. conjure you to answer truly—Is the
I like to give every man his own again, fever under which I now labour infec-
be it good or evil; but I would not tious ?"
harm a fly, if it had not injured me. “ Assuredly not,” returned I; “I
I don't want to kill my wife. I dare- never supposed it to be so.".
say, poor girl, her stepmother makes “ Thank God !” exclaimed he ;
things go hard enough with her al- “then I shall yet enjoy a few mo-
ready. I will tell her I am very well, ments of comfort before I die. What
and the hope of seeing me again will a relief this information is! Poor Ma-
keep alive her spirits. You had bet- ria, you will still”. - Here he shook
ter go away now-I'll write best alone." with agitation, and tears began to roll
After in vain endeavouring to per- down his cheeks.
suade him to defer his purpose till “ I owe you an explanation of this
morning, I returned to my own aparte behaviour," said he, recovering him.
ment.
self a little ; " since you have removed
My first thought, when I awakened an uncertainty which has hitherto in-
next day, was about this unfortunate creased the disquiets of my deathbed.
seaman, and I called up a negro man, I arrived here a few days ago, from
who belonged to the house, and ina Baltimore. I intended to have com-
quired if he was still in life.
menced business in this town as a
No," returned the negro, “he's merchant, and accordingly brought
dead-dead sure enough ; I've just along with me a daughter-an only
come from telling them to make his daughter. Being attacked with the
coffin. The coffin-makers like to see fever almost immediately, I was con-
me I go to them often, for white veyed to this house, for I had not pro-
massas die very fast now. They die vided any place of my own. My
80 soon, that my massa can't make daughter lives at present with an
any thing of them. If they would all American lady. She has come to see
get better, and stay long like you, it me twice, against my express com-
would answer very fine." I asked at mands; and I have ever since been
what hour he died.
full of terror, lest she should hare re-
“ Me no know that," answered the ceived infection in the course of her
negro. Nobody was beside him ; visits. But you tell me this cannot
but it could not be long time since, be;-trusting in such an assurance, I
for I heard him fighting hard with will send for her that I may see her
death, and wished him far enough, for again before I die."
breaking my sleep. I found him quite “ That you can do without risk,"
stiff this morning, with a sheet of pa- said I ;“ but are you not too ready to
per held so strong in his hand, that I yield to desponding thoughts?"
had some ado to pull it out. He be bu “No, no, no, I feel something
ried this afternoon; but we no know here,” returned he, laying his hand on
where his friends are; so massa will his breast; “ I know it is--it must
just take him out to the grave in a be death. Oh, that the Almighty would
volant aloue by himself.”
yet grant me a little time! I do not


310
Adventure in Havana.
(Jum',
ask it for my own sake, but for her's. “Peace," cried the superintend-
—'T'is hard to be denied, since there ant; “ Sir, I entreat you to remain
is no selfishness in my petition ;- but here for my suke, if you will not for
perhaps I'm mistaken. Oh, beware your own. The credit of this house
how you contract any ties that will would be injured, if any sick person
bind your heart to this earth ;-our left it before he had perfectly recover-
parting is severe enough without ed."
them.”
“ I am of that opinion too,” said I
He turned his face from me. In a to the young man; “.but you shall
little time I addressed him, but recei- never be uncler obligations you can-
ved no reply-for he was dead. not cancel, while it is in my power to
One afternoon, while taking my assist you. Allow me to offer my ser-
usual walk round the court, my at- vices in extricating you from your dif-
tention was arrested by the sound of ficulties."
persons speaking in a tone of alterca The superintendant and nurse, per-
tion and entreaty. In a little time, ceiving that he had abandoned his in-
the superintendant of the house look- tention of immediately removing, lett
el from the door of one of the apart- the room, and I again asked if I could
ments, and asked me to come in. be useful to him in any way.
On entering, I perceived a young “ A few days ago," said he, “ your
man, seated on a bed, half-dressed, generous offers would bave proved va-
and in the act of putting on the re- luable beyond all description; and I
mainder of his clothes. He was much would instantly have accepted of them.
einaciated, and so weak, that he trem- But now they are of no avail, unless
bled excessively; but his manner they could be made the means of pur-
evinced a degree of resolution and im- chasing lite. Were that granted me,
patience, which seemed to supply the I would soon bave it in my power to
place of strength. A mulatto woman step into the enjoyment of perfeet
stood looking at him with an expres- happiness. But I will tell you my
sion of astonishment and unconcern. unfortunate story.
“No person in his senses would “I arrived in this town about
think of leaving my house, when in three weeks ago, from Philadelphia,
such a state," said the superintendant where I have hitherto resided. I was
to me.
bred to the mercantile business; butas,
I inquired if the young man was owing to the depressed state of com-
not delírious. He overheard me, and merce that has lately existed through
called out fiercely, “ No, sir, I am out America, I could not procure
not delirious I know what I'm about, either a situation, or any employ,
and am determined to do as I please. ment, I spent my time in idleness,
I have given reasons for my conduct and at last fell in love with a young
already.'
lady, who also became attached to
“ Rather strange ones, though," me. We wasted away our hours in
said the superintendant to me.- each others company, without ever
“ This morning he asked how much thinking seriously of the future. When
he owed me for the time he had my destitute state happened to force
been in this house. When I satis- itself upon my mind, 1 smothered the
fied him on this point, he said he recollection of it, by building castles
must go away, as he had scarcely mo- in the air, and trying to believe that
ney enough to pay what was already some piece of good fortune awaited
due; now I've just been telling him" me.
Say no more,” interrupted the “ However, I was eventually rou-
young man; “I will not contract sed to exertion, by the death of my
debts, when I have no possible means dear one's mother. In consequence of
of paying them. A friend of mine this event, she was obliged to leave
has a ship in the harbour-I will go Philadelphia, and reside with a rich
on board of' her, and die there." brother, who lived in the country.
“Why, it's not worth while mo. We had no longer any opportunity of
ving,” said the mulatto woman, " for seeing each other; and the distress I
the doctor told me you could not live suffered on this account, and the
twodays. My master won't mind the ex- thoughts of the misery which my su-
pence of keeping you that time, if you pineness would be the means of inflict-
can seeure him against the charges of ing upon her, made me determine to
your funeral.”
push my fortune somewhere abroalla


1921.]
Adoenture in Havana.
311
As I understood some Spanish, and from me. When I had lost to a large
could procure a few letters of recom- annount, we rose and took leave, but
mendation to persons in Havana, I not before some warm words that pass-
soon decided upon coming here. ed between us, made me give him, in
“Whenever I arrived, I hastened to disdain, a promissory note for the sum
call upon those people to whom I had I had borrowed.
introductions. They received me po “Next morning, my reflections were
litely enough, and promised to forward not of the most agreeable kind, for my
my views as much as possible, at the finances could ill support the encroach..
same time encouraging me with flat- ments which the preceding night's play
tering hopes. My finances were low had made upon them. After breakfast,
when I reached this city, and the bril- I went to the coffee-house, and there
liant prospects in which I foolishly in- met a gentleman whom I had seen at
dulged, did not tend to make me eco- the ball. He inquired in a very signi-
nomical. At last, I began to perceive ficant manner for the ladies I had es-
the necessity of liuniting my expences, corted there. On my requesting an
and retired to obscure lodgings, where explanation, he informed me that they
I lived in the narrowest manner pos- were women of no reputation, and that
sible.
the young Spaniard, whom I called
“I had made several agreeable ac- my friend, was employed by them to
quaintances, though the suspense and entrap strangers, and bring his dupes
anxiety I suffered, made me indiffer- to their house, that they might have
ent about having much intercourse an opportunity of cheating them at
with them. However, there was a cards, or obtaining money from them
young Spaniard, for whom I felt a in a more licentious way.
particular regard. One evening, he “ This information wounded my
called at my rooms, and requested me pride as deeply as my losses at cards had
to accompany him to his aunt's, that drained my purse ; and I could not but
he might introduce me to some of his bitterly repent that I had given a pro-
country women. We went and took missory note to one who so little de-
coffee with the ladies, and it being a served my confidence. However, as
festival of the church, it was agreed things could not be retrieved, I endea-
that we should go to the public ball, voured to forget my misfortunes, and
that takes place on such occasions. went to the post-office to inquire if
“It was late when we left the ball- there were any letter for me. I got
room, and my friend and I accom one, which I knew from the super-
panied the ladies home. Contrary to scription to be from my beloved. She
iny expectation, they requested us to informed me, that her brother having
enter the house, and pressed the mat- died suddenly, had left her thirty
ter so strongly that we complied. We thousand dollars, and concluded by
had not sat long, when cards were requesting, that I would return to
proposed; but I took alarm at this, Philadelphia immediately, as her for-
being well aware of the expertness of tune and herself were now at my dis-
the Spaniards in playing games of posal.
chance, and of my own inability to “The perusal of this letter made me
cope with them, on account of my tremble with joy. Every thing around
imperfect acquaintance with their lan- me seemed delightful, and I even be
guage. I therefore protested against gan to regard, with some degree of
remaining any longer, but without complacency, my perfidious compa-
avail, for my friend and the ladies op- nion, and his female associates. Ha-
posed every thing I said. I would ving learned from the coffee-house
have departed notwithstanding all books that a vessel had just cleared
this, but I did not know the way out for New York, I immediately
home, and feared to risk my life by went on board of her, and agreed with
wandering alone through the streets of the captain for a passage, which was
Havana at midnight.
to cost me nearly the whole sum I had
“ We accordingly sat down to cards, in my possession.
and I lost so fast that I began to have “On my return home, after having
suspicions of unfair play. I was soon made these arrangements, I suddenly
stripped of all the money I had about recollected that the young Spaniard
me, but my friend offered to be secu. had a bill upon me for such an amount,
rity for whatever the ladies should win that, if I paid him, it would be im-


319
Adventure in Havana.
[June,
possible for me to go to New York. what a villain I was, and how I had
The agonies I felt, on recalling this attempted to run away without paying
circumstance, were succeeded by a se- my debts. As the harbour-master had
vere struggle between love and honour. no accusation against me, he merely
If I left Havana, without dischar- bade his men put my trunks on the
ging my debt, my unprincipled asso- wharf, and went away. When my
ciate would proclaim and prove me a treacherous associate perceived this,
villain and a fugitive; but if I remain- he advanced towards me, and after
ed and answered his demands, I would using some very insulting language,
not have it in my power to sail for the demanded payment of his note. My
United States, until I received remit- feelings were at that time too deep to
tances from my friends there ; and I shew themselves externally. I opened
knew that I could honourably dis- my portmanteau, and counted out the
charge the bond I had given, by send. sum into his hands, and having call-
ing him the sum when I reached Phi, ed a volanto, drove to the lodgings
ladelphia.
which I had formerly occupied.
“You may easily suppose how this “At first, the violence of my resent-
conflict ended. I went on board the ment against the author of my cala-
vessel, which was to sail that after- mities in some degree prevented the
noon, and endeavoured to find a jus- invasions of grief, and the cruel ex,
tification of my conduct, in the reflec- posure of my conduct, which he had
tion, that almost no person in similar made to persons who were ignorant of
circumstances would have acted other- my peculiar situation, and who would
wise. The thoughts of the happiness of course put the worst constructions
that awaited me, had little effect in upon every thing, stung me even more
shortening the hours that were to than the disappointment I had suffered.
elapse before we set sail. At last, to “ Next morning I made inquiry at
my great joy, the seamen began to the coffee-house, and at several other
heave up the anchor. I sat in the ca- places, if any vessel was soon expecte
bin, counting the turns of the wind- ed to sail for the United States, and
lass, and inhaling with delight the fa- learned that there would be one in less
vourable breeze that blew through the than a week. My next business was
windows.
to raise money to pay my passage. I
“ In the midst of all this, the cap. tried various plans without success,
tain called me upon deck. When I till at last, overcome with fatigue and
got there, I saw the custom-house misery, I fell sick, and having no one
boat lying alongside, and the har- to attend me at my lodgings, was con-
bour-master, who stood in her, im- veyed to this house of disease. I am
mediately demanded my passport.—1 aware, that death will soon put a pe-
attempted to answer, but my alarm riod to my agonizing regrets, but you
was such, that I could not speak. He may well suppose, that I am little
then addressed me in English, and I prepared to meet it; for the happi-
so far recovered myself as to tell him, ness, which the fatal incidents just
that I had no passport, being ignorant related have bereft me of, appears to
that such a thing was necessary. “You grow more and more desirable as life
must return ashore then," said he, “I ebbs away, and I would prefer the
must do my duty.” I pleaded against possession of her, whom I shall never
this, but it was all in vain. He pro- see again, to an assurance that I should
bably considered my agitation and dis- henceforth abide in the company of
tress as proofs of guilt and terror, and blessed angels."
the captain himself seemed anxious to My health being now re-establish-
get rid of me. My trunks being low- ed, I left the sick-house the following
ered into the boat, I was obliged to day. However, previous to my de-
follow, and the harbour-master order- parture, I was informed of the death
ed his men to row to the wharf. of this young American, and could not
“On reaching it, we found a crowd but reflect, with gratitude, upon my
of people talking together, and among preservation from the fatal effects of a
them I recognized the young Spaniard. pestilence, which daily made so many
He was telling the others, in Spanish, persons its victims.
14


1881.]
313
On Halewill's Apology.
ON HAKEWILL'S APOLOGY.
That the world is in its dotage, we vance was thought impossible. Consi-
are told by that respectable son of der, for instance, our own publications,
Autolycus, the worthy old philoso- and ab hoc disce omnia. Who did not
pher in the Vicar of Wakefield, and believe it, even in its very infancy, as
an axiom proceeding from such autho- having attained to perfection, as being
rity, one would think, could hardly be the best possible Magazine in this best
destitute of foundation. Yet, with all of all possible worlds, beyond which
due deference to that excellent charac- progression or improvement could not
ter, we must say we are rather unwil- go? Who did not feel convinced, that
ling to believe it, and so we suppose the Star of Blackwood had reached its
will all those be who have been in the zenith, and must of necessity for the
habit of constantly reading our Maga- future wane and decline ? And yet
zine. We might indeed say, and we how agreeably, delightfully, and en-
should say, were we not restrained by chantingly, have all such expectations
our invincible modesty, that our work been disappointed. We appeal to thy
itself presents an incontestible proof, own good sense and good humour,
that the world is as wise, and as witty, gentle reader, whether thou hast not
and as learned, and as poetical, as ever been astonished, and, in fact, we have
its annals exhibit it. If it have, like been astonished ourselves, at the still
other bodies, and we believe this is increasing lustre of the dazzling “Star
the most likely state of the law, felt of Edina.” Like Aladdin in the cave,
in its time the infirmities of old age, it who found the contents of each apart-
is now, however, marvellously recruit- ment to be succeeded by others more
ed; and, like Æsop, after the decre- precious in the next, silver, gold, and
pitude of dotage, has attained a magi- jewels, in interminable progression,
cal rejuvenescence. It has now cer- thou hast discovered in our Magazine
tainly all the frolicsome mirth and a continualsource of heightening trans-
animal spirits of youth ; it has cast its port and admiration. Each new Num-
slough, and a second spring is gladden- ber has eclipsed the former, and rises
ing and inspiriting literature. Poetry above its predecessors, like the steps
has received a new impulse ; another in Jacob's ladder, till the world has at
America has been discovered, and add- length set it down as an acknowledged
ed to its dominions; and the genius axiom, that Blackwood's Magazine,
of the drama is now rousing itself like must of necessity for ever improve;
a giant from its slumber. Not a year and is so satisfied with respect to this
passes without bringing with it new point, that, should that far-famed pub-
novels from the incomparable pen of lication, (which of course it never can
the Author of Waverley, whose in- do,) ever deteriorate, we are confident
vention seems as inexhaustible as na that the public would shut their eyes
ture itself. Such is the ardour of in- to the conviction. Such is the fate of
quiry, that nothing can daunt or dis our work, and what will be the end,
spirit it; and we may expect in a few God only knows. From this instance,
years to be as well acquainted with the though questionless in an inferior de-
Arctic Regions, as we now are with gree, the gradual improvement and
the road from Edinburgh to Glasgow. progression in all other departments
Nor is this all. The great idol of the and sciences may be judged of. In
Whigs, the Edinburgh Review, has at fact, with the exceptions of the Scots-
length been cast from its base, like man, which, like a dead pool, offensive
Belial and Ashtaroth, the gods of the at once to the eyes and the nostrils,
Gentiles, before the Might of Truth, eternally stagnates, and of the Edin-
and of Christopher North. Education burgh Review, which improves the
is dispelling everywhere the mists of wrong way,-Hibernicè, grows down-
ignorance ; and the Bible Society and ward,—and has now become as dull
Blackwood's Magazine are going about and stupid as “my grandmother," we
hand in hand civilizing and Christiani- scarcely know any thing not improva-
zing nations. We are every day ex- ble, or likely to improve. The reader
emplifying the doctrine of perfectibi- will at once ask, Who is this great
lity; and advancing, where further ad- master that hath done these things,
Vol. IX.
2 Q


814
On Hakewill's Apology.
[June,
that hath infused this spirit of new impossible not to respect them as mo-
life and vigour through all the intel- numents of zeal, assiduity, and know,
lectual world ; that has communicated ledge, which modern writers have had
new impulses to science, mind, and the sense to make use of, if not the ge-
matter, and sown the seeds from which nerosity to praise.
the harvest now is rising ; that has The present work is one of the most
given to the exhausted and plough- readable of its class ; and those of
worn fields of literature, like the in- our readers, who were before unac-
cursions of the Nile, new powers, quainted with it, will, we are sure,
richness, and fecundity, and thrown owe us thanks for the introduction.
out lights which have guided so many It is unnecessary, and perhaps would
discoverers on their way? Laudable not be interesting, to give a minute
curiosity ought to be gratified, and as and particular account of the con-
we apprehend few besides ourselves tents of so elaborate a work. It is
are in possession of the secret, we will divided into four books; the first
tell him. This new Medea- this treats of the “ Pretended Decay in
mighty Magician- let him give due general, together with some prepara-
credit to our generosity-was no other tives thereunto.” The second, of the
than Constable's Magazine!
“ Decay in the Heavens and Elemen-
After having made this exhibition tary Bodies.” The third and fourth,
of our candour, by bringing modesty of the “ Decay in the Age, Stature,
into notice a thing we always delight Mind, Manners, and Virtue of Man-
in, we will now address ourselves to kind." The author dedicates his work
the matter in hand. The work which “ To his amiable Mother, the famous
we purpose to introduce to our read- and flourishing Universitie of Oxford,"
ers, by the few extracts which follow, and observes, “ Were I destitute of
is entitled “ An Apologie of the Power all other arguments to prove that the
and Providence of God in the Govern- world doth not universally and perpe-
ment of the World, or an Examination tually decline, this one might fully
and Censure of the common Errour suffice for all, that thou, my venerable
touching Nature's perpetual Decay; mother, though thou wax old in regard
by George Hakewill. Lond. 1627, of years, yet in this latter age, in re-
folio.” It is written, as the title shews, gard of strength and beauty, waxeth
to confute the principle of the world's young againe;" and that “ so far art
decay, and is one of the most elaborate thou from withering and wrinkles,
works of a most elaborate time. The that thou art rather become fairer and
extent of the ground which the author fresher, and, in these times, no less
passes over, his arguments embracing happy than heretofore." Before he
not only the decay in the elemental enters upon his subject, he considers
matter, but also in manners and mind, it necessary to prove, that, taking the
and the industry and impartiality he world's supposed decay as a principle
exhibits, are truly extraordinary and of general belief, there are many other
uncommon. The time he lived in opinions equally current with the mul-
was not one for superficial disquisitions titude, “ which have been by others
or flimsy treatises. He who then took manifestly convinced, or at least were
a subject in hand, took up the matter justly suspected of falsehood." This
in good earnest ; and whatever might he does to the length of several pages,
be his success in his examination, the enough certainly to demonstrate that
reader might be sure that it would he is by no means a man who takes
not be unconcocted for want of consi- things for granted. He then endea-
deration, or unsubstantial for want of vours to shew, how discouraging to
learning. To this is owing that satis “ virtuous endeavours," is the opinion
fying effect, that appearance of solidi- of the inequality of modern power.
ty, which is remarkable in the works The following passage will serve as a
of Hakewill and his contemporaries; specimen of his style.
and though much of their materials
may at the present time appear unne-
“ When our ancestors are painted forth
cessary and useless, and much of their but in wit and vertue, though the acts wee
as gyants, not onely in stature and strength,
argument, by the improvements of their find recorded of them, please vs marveil-
successors, or the changes in subjects ous well, yet wee durst not venture, or so
of disquisition, may have been falsified, much as once thinke vpon the matching of
or be no longer interesting, yet it is them, because we are taught and made to


1821.
On Hakewill's Apology.
316
beleeue, that wee forsooth are but as pig- the inferiority of the moderns, in re-
mies, and dwarfes in regard of them ; and gard of strength and stature, to the
that it were as possible to fit a child's shooe mighty men of old, and adduces,
to Hercules foote, as for vs any way to amongst other arguments to the con-
come neere them, or to trace their stepps, trary, the following relations from
possunt, quia posse videntur. They can, Camerarius.
because they seeme they can.
“ Certainely the force of imagination is - Francis the first, King of France, who
wonderfull, either to beget in vs an abilitie reigned about an hundred years since, being
for the doing of that which we apprehend desirous to know the truth of those things,
we can do, or a disability for the not doing which were commonly spread touching the
of that which we conceiue we cannot do : strength and stature of Rouland, nephew
which was the reason that the wisards and of Charlemaine, caused his sepulchre to be
oracles of the Gentiles being consulted, opened, wherein his bones and bow were
they ever returned either an hopefull an- found rotten, but his armour sound, though
swer, or an ambiguous, such as by a fa- couered with rust, which the king com-
vourable construction, might either include maunding to bee scoured off, and putting
or at leastwise not vtterly exclude hope. it vpon his owne body, found it so fit for
Agesilaus (as I remember) clapping his him, as thereby it appeared that Rouland
hand vpon the altar, and taking it off exceeded him little in bignesse and stature
againe, by a cunning divice shewed to his of bodie, though himselfe were not exces-
spuldiers, victory stamped vpon it, where- siue tall or bigge.'
by they were so encouraged, and grew so
confident, that, beyond all expectation, they
In a curious chapter on “the sun-
indeed effected that wherof by this sleight dry fabulous formations of the bones
they were formerly assured. Prognostica- of giant-like bodies digged up or found
tions and prophesies often helpe to further in caves," he gives us the following
that which they foretell, and to make men stories from different authors :-
such as they beare them in hand they shall
“Our Malmesburiensis likewise in his
be; nay, by an vnavoydable destinie must second booke and thirteenth chapter de
bee. Francis, Marquesse of Saluzze, yeeldes gestis Rerum Anglorum mentioneth the
is a memorable example in this kind, who same, story shall I call it, or fable, telling
being lieutenant-generall to Francis the first vs, that in the yeare of grace 1042, and in
king of France, over all his forces which the reigne of S. Edward, the body of Pal.
hee then had beyond the mountaines in las the sonne of Euander, of whom Virgill
Italy, a man highly favoured in all the speakes, Romæ repertum est illibatum in-
court, and infinitly obliged to the king for genti stupore omnium quod tot sæcula in-
his marquesite, which his brother had for- corruptionem sui superavit, was found at
feited, suffered himselfe to be so fart afright- Rome intire and sound, to the great asto-
ed and deluded, as it hath since been ma nishment of all men, that by the space of
nifestly proued, by prognostications, (which
so many ages it had triumphed quer cor-
then throughout all Europe were giuen out ruption; and farther to confirme the trueth
to the advantage of the Emperour Charles thereof, he assures vs, that the gaping
the Fifth, and to the prejudice of the French,) widenesse of the wound which Turnus
that hauing no occasion offered, yea his made in the midst of his breast, was found
owne affections contradicting the same, hee by measure to be foure foote and an halfe,
first began in secret to complaine to his
a large wound, and the weapon which
private friends of the inevitable miseries made it, we cannot but conceiue as large ;
which he foresawprepared bythe fates against and by the appearance of it at full, not
the crowne of France. And within a while onely the bones and skinne and sinewes,
after (this impression still working into him) but the flesh to remaine incorrupt ; a mat-
he most vnkindly revolted from his master,
ter altogether incredible. Besides, he sets
and became a turne-coate to the emperour’s vs downe his epitath found at the same
side, to the astonishment of all men, his
time,
owne greate disgrace, and the no lesse dis. Filius Evandri Pallans quem lancea Turni
advantage to the French enterprize ; on Militis occidit more suo iacet hic,
the other side I doubt not but that the pro. Which himselfe knowes not well how to
phesies of Sauanarola, as much assisted giue credit too, quod non tunc crediderim
Charles the Eight to the Conquest of Na. factum, (sayth he,) which I cannot beleeue
ples, which he performed so speedily and
was then made, but by Ennius, or some
happily, as he seemed rather with chalke other of latter ages : But I proceede,
to marke out his lodgings, then with his
6 Herodotus in his first booke tels vs,
sword to winne them."
that the body of Orestes being taken up,
After proving that no decay has
was found to be seaven cubits; but Gellius
taken place in the heavens and ele- is bold to bestow vpon him for his labour
mentary bodies, or in the earth or its the title of Homo Fabulator, a forger of
productions, he proceeds to examine fables, rather inclining to the opinion of


316
On Hakewill's Apology.
[June,
Varro, who held the vtmost period of a the delusions of these spirits haue vanish-
man's growth to be seaven foote. Whated as a mist before the sun; though their
would he then haue said to the body of kingdome be not at an end, yet is their
Oryon, which Pliny makes forty-six cubits, malice much restrained and their power
or of Macrosyris, which Trallianus makes abated.”
an hundred cubits, or of that body disco-
uered in a vast caue neere Drepanum in Amongst the instances of moderns
Sicilie, three of whose teeth, if we may be- who have equalled the ancients in
leeue Boccace, weighed an hundred ounces, strength, if modern he can be called,
and the leadde of his staffe, a thousand and our author tells us,
fiue hundred pounds. And the body it
selfe, by the proportion of some of the bones,
“ Was the gyant Enother, borne in Tur-
was estimated to no lesse than two hundred gaw, a village in Sweuia, who bore armes
cubits, which makes three hundred feete, vnder Charlemaigne; he felled men as one
somewhat, I thinke, beyond Paul's steeple. would mow hay, and sometimes broached
The more I wonder at s. Augustin, who a great number of them vpon his pike, and
confidently assures vs, that himselfe with so carried them all vpon his shoulder, as
others being on the sea-shore at Vtica, he one would carry little birds spitted vpon a
there saw a mans iaw-tooth so bigge, that sticke.”
being cut into small peeces, it would haue This was a man of power indeed.
made an hundred such as the men liuing The Ogres of our infancy would hard-
in his age commonly had, by which com- ly be more formidable. For our own
putation the body it selfe must likewise in part, we hope to see no such manifest-
reason haue exceeded the bodies of his age ations of modern strength.
an hundred times ; so that being compared
with a body of six foote, and exceeding it
Our author next examines the pre-
one hundred times, it will be found six tended superiority of the ancients in
hundred foote high, which is the just dou- arts and sciences. He gives us the
ble to Boccace his gyant.”
following specimens of the barbarism
of the middle ages.
After attempting on different grounds
to account for these extraordinary ap-
" It appeares, by the rescript of Pope
pearances, he resolves the problem in Zacharie to Boniface, a German bishop,
the true spirit of his age.
that a priest in those parts baptized in this
forme, Baptizo te in nomine Patria, et
“ But that which I rather choose to in. Filia, et Spiritua Sancta ; and by Eras.
sist vpon, is, that the bodies of such men mus, that some divines in his time would
were begotten by devills, who that they haue take vpon them to prooue, that heretiques
had carnall familiarity with women, is the were to be put to death, because the apostle
consent of all antiquity. And that the births saith, Hæreticum hominem devita, which
of such monstrous mixtures must needes be it seemes they vnderstood as if he had
monstrous, Tostatus truely observeth: Ta said de vita tolle. I haue somewhere read,
libus conceptibus robustissimi homines et that two fryars, disputing whether God
procerissimi nasci solent, of such concep- made any more worlds then one, the one
tions are wont to be borne the strongest and wisely alleadging that passage of the gos-
tallest of men.' And Vallesius hauing given pell touching the ten lepers which were
the reason heereof at large, (which, for cleansed, Annon decem facti sunt mundi,
feare of offending chast eares, I list not as if God had made tenne worlds; the
heere to repeate) at last concludes, Robusti other looking into the text, replies as wise.
ergo et grandes vt nascerentur, poterant ly, with the words immediately following,
itæ dæmones procurare ; Thus then the Sed vbi sunt novem ? but what is become
devills might procure that mighty huge of the nine ? so as from thence hee would
gyants should be borne, whose both opinion prooue but one to be left. He that is dis.
and reasons heerein are both approued and posed to make himselfe merry in this
farther proued by Delrio in his Magicall kinde, may finde in Henry Stevens his
Disquisitions. The euidence heereof will Apologie of Herodotus, a number of like
yet farther appeare, if wee consider, that stuffe; I will only touch one or two of the
where God was least known and the devill choisest. Du Prat, a bishop and chaun.
most powerfully reigned, there these im- cellour of France, hauing receiued a letter
pure acts were most frequently practised, from Henry the eight king of England, to
which is the reason, as I conceiue, that Francis the first of France, wherein among
among the Hebrewes, the chosen people of other things he wrote, mitto tibi duodecom
God, wee reade of no such matter: nay molossos, I send you twelue mastiffe dogs,'
those gyants we find mentioned in holy the chauncellor, taking molossos to signifie
writ were for the most part of other na- mules, made a journey of purpose to the
tions. But since the incarnation of the court, to begge them of the king ; who,
Sonne of God our blessed Saviour, who wondring at such a present to be sent him
came to dissolue the workes of the devill, from England, demaunded the sight of the
10


1891.2
On Hakewil's Apology.
317
letter, and smiling thereat, the chauncellour preparatiue unto it, then part of it. By
finding himselfe to be deceiued, told him which meanes they kept men so long in
that hee mistooke molossos for muletos, the porch, that they entred not into the
and so hoping to mend the matter, made house till it was more then time to goe out
it worse. "Another tale he tels of a parish of it.”
priest in Artois, who had his parishioners Of alchymy he observes, with some
in sute for not paving the church, and that
the charge thereof lay vpon them, and not
that degree of justice,
vpon him, he would proue out of the 17 of “ We finde little mention thereof in an-
the prophet Ieremie, Paveant illi, non pa- tiquity, not suspected of forgery: but for
veam ego. I remember Archbishop Parker, mine own part, I much doubt whether any
somewhere in his Antiquates Britannicæ, such experiment be yet really found or no :
makes relation of a French bishop, who and if it be, whether the operation of it be
being to take his oath to the Archbishop of not more daugerous and difficult then the
Canterburie, and finding the word metro. effect arising from it is or can be advanta-
politicæ therein, being not able to pro- gious. But of this I am well assured,
nounce it, he passed it ouer with soit pour that as he who digged in his vineyard for
dict, let it be as spoken ;' and when they gold missed it, but by opening the rootes of
had most grossely broken Priscian's head, the vines thereby, found their fruite the
being taken in the fact, their common de next yeare worth more vnto him then gold,
fence was those words of S. Gregorie, Non so whiles men haue laboured by transmu.
debent verba cælestis oraculi subesse regu- tation of mettals from one species to ano-
lis Donati, the words of the heavenly ther to make gold, they haue fallen vpon
oracles ought not to be subject to the rules the distillation of waters, extractions of
of Donatus.'”
oyles, and such like rare experiments m-
known to the ancients, which are vndoubt-
In comparing the ancient and mo- edly more pretious for the vse of man then
dern poets, he says of Virgil, “ If I all the gold of both the Indies."
should match him with Ariosto or
Torquato Tasso in Italian, Bartas in After going through the circle of
French, or Spencer in English, I think arts and sciences, he dilates upon the
I should not much wrong him.” Our modern inventions of printing, guns,
good author's zeal has carried him ra-
and the mariner's compass. He then
ther too far. Du Bartas's tedious poem proceeds to disprove the pretended de-
has about the same relation to the cay in the virtue and morals of men ;
Æneid that Blackmore's Prince Are and shews in the course of his reason-
thur has to Paradise Lost. It is, how. ing a thorough knowledge of antiquity.
ever, an epic, and all epics might per- He examines the laws of Solon, Ly-
haps to our theological doctor be alike. curgus, Plato, and Aristotle, and
Equally extravagant is his judgment proves the greatest part of them to be
of SirPhilip Sidney'sArcadia, " which,” irrational
, useless, and absurd. The
he observes, “ is in my opinion no-
vices of the ancients come next before
thing inferior to the choicest piece him, and he exposes, in all their hi-
amongst the ancients.” Of these mat- deous colours, their avarice, cruelty,
ters our author was ill calculated to luxury, prodigality, and corruption.
judge. When he comes to logic he His thesis being thus demonstrated,
seems much more on his own ground.
he concludes by a “pious exhortation
to all manner of persons.”
“ Logicke indeed is it, wherein we are The extracts we have given from
thought to be most defectiue in regard of this production can give our readers
former ages; and it is true, that the
no idea of the extent of learning, co-
schoole-men had set their stocke, the vt-
most of their endeavours vpon this part of gency of reasoning, and general good
learning, their whole life being in a man-
sense which it displays. The subject
ner little else but a perpetuali wrangling itself is too hacknied to allow us to
and altercation, and that many times ra-
enter into the discussion of it. Besides,
ther for victory and ostentation of wit, then we believe the world has long since
a sober and serious search of truth : so as made up its mind about it. Element-
their entrance being vaine, their end was ary decay, philosophy has long taught
likewise fruitlesse. What huge volumes us it is ridiculous to dread; and the
haue they compiled of the predicables and fear of intellectual decay would be
predicaments, as if in them consisted the equally childish in the contemporaries
very spirit and soule of logicke ; whereas of Walter Scott.
in truth they are rather an appendix or


318
(June,
Sketches of Scottish Character, No. VII.
SKETCHES OF SCOTTISH CHARACTER.
No. VII.
“ Harvest Home."
Assist me now, thou Coila-christend muse,
Who could'st o'er rustic board a charm diffuse
Assign to chieftain worth a chieftain place,
And raise to honour meet the “ Pudding race"-
Assist the bard, who ne'er invoked before,
Nor ever shall again—"this effort o'er."
The ripen'd grain invites the Reaper's hand,
The Master musters forth his harvest band;
A joyous, frisky, wit-attempting choir,
Stands, rank and file, around the Farmer's door.
With shining sickle o'er their shoulders laid,
Come stripling youth, and three-score years old maid.
The cottar Widow with her youngest son,
Most useful he on messages to run-
Pipe-lighting-coal to bring—the bog to scan-
And drain the cooling crystal in a pan,
His mother's Rig to “hole” with onward haste,
That she may smoke, at intervals, and rest.
The merry Sutor tucks his apron by,
The Tailor's implements unnoticed ly,
The Wright his wimbles and his planes foregces,
The Ditcher drops his “mattocks and his hose,
The Smith his bellows and his anvil-blows-
Each wife or daughter-partner'd, seeks the field,
Prepared till latest dusk the hook to wield.
Nor long the space, when hand with heart combines,
And o'er the partner'd task contentment shines-
Bids Lad and Lass the Rig together drive,
And keeps with country clash the boon alive ;
Affords a breathing time at dinner-hour,
Beyond the Bandsman's, or the Master's power.
“ Peat-time" is cheerful; then the barrow plies
The frequent lift, and far the fuel lies
O'er dry, and heathy tuft; and lad with lass
Enjoy the mid-day pastime on the grass.
'Twas merry-making once in days of old,
When all the ewes were pent up in the fold,
And kilted maiden came, her cog to fill,
And lambs, spread motherless along the hill,
In plaint responsive spread, and Shepherd jeer,
And bark of dog, and song of maid were near.
It still is pleasant revel, once a-year,
When all the household meet the "sheep to shear”-
And stools are set, and sharpen'd scissars fly
Along the shaggy fleece, with sounding ply;
Till peeld to perfect nakedness, each - wether”
Resumes his legs, bounds off, and seeks the heather
With shout, and fruitless speed, pursues the boy,
Till every smutted feature swell with joy.
E'en “hay-stack” building is a joyous work,
When hand with heart combines, and fork with fork,
And many a female foot along the stack
Backwards and forwards plies, the hay to pack,
And squall and scream, with mimic scold unite,
To check impertinence, they but invite.


1891.)
Harvest Home.
319
!
But I have seen such frolic, harmless, frecuentes
Such breadth of wit, extravagance of glee
On harvest field, so much of limb and tongue,
Till dogs have bark’d, and to the skirts have clung
Of romping matron, whose ungainly mirth,
To clap of hands, and screaming shout gave birth.
Yes! I have seen the merry-hearted Lass
Beneath the plaid, with favour'd Partner pass;
Whilst round the waist the mutual arm was flung,
And breast to breast in beating transport clung.
Nor smile, ye proud-nor frown, ye polish'd fair,
As if ought else save decency were there
You have your stolen glance, your pouting airs,
Sincerity and warmth of heart is theirs-
You have your evening party, ball, or play ;
Their harvest romp, and “ Harvest Home" have they.
And “Harvest Home” arrives, all labour o'er,
And every “hook” suspended by the door,
The sore contested “ Handful” fix'd on high,
Deck'd out in all the grace of knot and tie,
To female form adjusted, trim and small,
And spreading all her pomp against the wall ;
The whiten'd barn-wall, whence she witness may,
The evening pastime of this festive day-
Nod to the fiddle's ear-assailing note,
And spread, in mimic dance, the straw-made petticoat.
The "Harvest Moon” has brighten'd in the east-
That Moon, which keeps her hour, nine nights at least-
Of labouring Farmer mindful in her sphere,
She lends her light, the stack-yard-work to cheer.
Around her congregate the silver clouds,
Which else had slept, the night in sable shrouds,
To sickly radiance, lesser stars decline,
And Jove himself less splendid seems to shine
The mountains press their outlines on the sky,
And far o'er “ stouk-clad” fields the shadows ly,
Whilst deep-engulph'd within each gloomy deli,
Full on the ear, the struggling waters swell.
Now Cow-herd boy, beside his creaking wain,
Deep labouring with a load of season'd grain,
Eyes every lengthen'd shadow in his way,
And takes the bogle glen with sad dismay-
Holds conversation with the straining Brute,
And cracks his whip, and plies his stackward rout.
Anon-nor Cowherd-boy, nor servant-lass,
Have bogle glen, or haunted ford, to pass.
The well-built stack, beat in, with fork, around,
And snodded down, from top-shave, to the ground-
Relieves the labouring crew, and bids prepare,
For evening frolic, and for Maiden Fare..
Now preparation sits on every face,
And bustling movements—bustling movements chace.
A prime fat "wether" seethes in yonder pot,
Here roasts the quarter of a Highland stot ;
Above that foam, the bobbing haggies rises,
Whilst puddings play around of various sizes ;
* If the kirn is win before “ Michaelmas" it is called “ A Maiden ;” if not till later,
it is termed a “ Carline"'-(not Caroline.)


990
Sketches of Scottish Character, No. VII.
[Jwie,
The horny sheep-head, arm'd on either side,
Drives, like a sword-fish, through the briny tide,
With blustering haggies wields unequal strife,
And cuts him up—and that without a knife. *
Within that jolly “ Cask,” the feast to crown-
Sleeps what will rouse to energy anon-
Give wit to dotage, heels to bed-rid years,
To silence give loquacity, to virtue leers-
Religion strip of half her sacred creed,
And make the only foolish, fools indeed.
The barn is clear'd, the table-bench is placed
With pail, and pot, and knifeless trencher graced.
Here shines the haggies in a cloud of steam,
Around his orb the planet puddings gleam-
The sheep-head grins defiance by his side,
Through whiten's teeth, and jaws extended wide.
Along the bench, as if at random toss'd,
Lie lumbering fragments of the boil and roast ;
And stew'd potatoes, here and there prevail,
Still partner'd by a brimming cog of“ kail,”
Old Scotia's barley-broth, commix'd with greens,"
And lithed into consistency with“ beans”-
Thus fared King Bruce, and saw his country free,
And thus fare freemen still, our Scottish peasantry!
Thus fare the lads to Albin's honour true,
Whose valour stood the test at Waterloo,
Far o'er the hostile fields destruction sped,
And fought like Heroes,- for a Hero led.
Now comes the “ grace" anon—"Old Francie's” task
Has been from ancient times the grace to ask ;
An aged servant he-long kept at ease,
Allow'd to work, or idle, if he please.
The servant lads to scold, the maids to ban,
Or scorn them, when in humour, with “ a Man;"+
See all things right attended to, and then,
Before and after meal-time, say th' “ Amen;"
Give prayers at night and morning through the year ;
Keep all the neighbouring boys in constant fear;
* In illustration of this, the following anecdote, somewhat descriptive as it is of coun-
try manners, may be adduced :—" An honest woman was favoured by Providence with
an ideot son—for such unfortunate individuals are accounted by the peasantry of Scot-
land a blessing-whose name, according to immemorial use and wont, must of course
have been “Jock.' To Jock, then, on a Sabbath-day, during her absence at church, she
had committed the superintendance of a boiling broth-pot-in which had been compa-
nioned a horny sheep-head with a haggies. Jock, who was quite equal to the task on
ordinary occasions, was not a little astonished and nonplussed, when, in the progress of
ebullition, he discovered that the head,” which by this time had begun to shew teeth,
as well as horns, was in the act of making rather an unhandsome attack upon his unre-
sisting companion. Having no means of stemming the wound, which, judging from the
discharge, seemed to be considerable, Jock hastened in utter dismay to the church, where
he knew his mother was of course to be found, with the view of giving her, at all hazards,
information of the late catastrophe. After some fruitless staring along the areas, and
over the seats, he at length caught his mother's eye, which was eagerly and anxiously
employed in winking him into silence. But Jock was too much possessed with the idea of
the unequal warfare he had just witnessed, and with the attitude and demonstration of
offence assumed by the head, in particular, to be kept long in check_Na, mither, na,'
says he, in a tone of voice loud enough to arrest the attention of Minister and congrega-
tion_Ye need na sit, winking, an’ nodding, an'glunching there_Ye had muckle bet-
ter be at hame, for Horny-face has stickit bobbing-Bess, and they hae' off their jackits,
an' at it, an' at it.'”
+ « A Husband.”_Vidc Jameson.


1891.)
Harvest Home.
321
Announce the weather with prophetic eye,
And in the evening read the morning sky;
Assist the “ Mistress," when in need of help,
The milk to churn, the wayward Imps to skelp ;
Build up the peat-stacks, if in winter shot,
And cool with ready care th' o’erboiling pot ;
Survey the liggets, keep the snecks in order,
Denouncing still all manner of disorder;
The Doctor act, in case of inward pains-
Most skilful he in boils and ankle sprains-
The bats to cure, the ring-worm, and the spavie,
And even, in case that need were, he can shave ye.
For these, and twenty other things of use,
“ Old Francie” has his livery and a house ;
His elding led--a bed of freshest chaff-
A“ Doddy Cow," each season brings a calf-
A cast-off coat
a half-worn pair of shoes,
With all the chancy windfalls of the house,
Besides a Beast to market twice a year-
No skittish colt-the master's saddle mare.
eye-
To Francie now the Master turn’d his face,
And sudden silence usher'd in the “ Grace."
The banquet orison of tedious drawl,
Which proved, in fact, to be no “ Grace” at all
A scriptural debate, an argued “ cause,"
About or broken or neglected laws;
This way or that the sinner needs must fall,
As man is nothingness, or man is all.
Divine and human, in an equal share,
He sinks a toad, or soars an angel fair.
“Amen," that long had near'd, and then had been
Far through the prayer-expostulation seen ;
Like “ Country seat,” to which we journey up,
In all the impatient drive of dinner hope
Through serpentine approaches ;-now 'tis nigh,
And now appears receding from the
From side to side coquetting.–Thus th' “ Amen"
Comes close within their grasp, and flies again.
Till all at once entrapp'd in leading phrase,
Amidst the entanglements of “ Power and Praise,"
The coy deceiver yields; and jaws amain,
And hands and teeth, their privilege regain.
Hast thou, good reader, ever seen a Horse,
As Homer paints him, fretting for the course;
With frequent hoof the turf incessant tearing,
Already in his heart the contest sharing-
Till launch'd at once into his utmost speed,
Forth starts at “ tuck of drum” the generous steed?
Or hast thou seen, mayhap, in Boyish day,
The summer pool where watchful minnows play,
Winnowing with silver glance the viewless tide,
And through the liquid radiance darting wide;
Whilst not a curl the pausing waters knew,
Nor curved one waving pebble to the view.
+ See Ralph Erskine.
« And with less equals to compare,
An ugly toad an angel fair."
Gospel Sonnets.
Vol IX.
2 R
!


328
Sketches of Scottish Character, No. VII.
(June,
And having dropt a Worm amidst the fry,
Hast seen them all in one thick cluster fly,
To catch their dinner, emulous of feeding,
And all unmark'd by courtesy or breeding.
Then canst thou image forth this Harvest band,
Each with a “ Ram-horn" brandish'd in his hand,
Impatient for the signal--now descending
In one vast plunge, and horn with horn contending
Then canst thou image forth each banqueteer
Proclaiming 'gainst " Sir Loin" incessant wier,
Cutting, and slashing, tearing, rending, riving,
And Maid with Hynd, and Hynd with Maiden striving-
No servants lounge behind their masters' chair,
For dogs, expectant of the bones, are there,
Here is no need of “ cloths” the crumbs to catch,
The hungry Curs are ever on the snatch ;
Whate'er you drop, they snap, with eager jaws,
Remind you of their presence by their paws;
From face to face revolve with watchful eye,
And challenge every “ bit" that passes by ;-
'Tis silence all-e'en Tibby's tongue is still,
And Jenny's too, though sore against her will.
Amidst this pause-expressive of dispatch,
The creeking barn-door opens by a latch;
And, elbow'd in, by arms of rosy hue
Such Doric arms as Willy Wastle knew!
Comes there a “Pail" upborne in steady state,
Copartner'd by an earthen satellite.
The shield of Ajax ? No.-Don Quixote's basin ?
(We waste our time similitudes a-chasing.)
In sober phrase, for figures much we hate,
It was, good reader, an enormous
Or “milk-Cog,” rather, varnish'd deep with brown,
And striped with white alternate up and down.
This vast “Tureen" such partner might beseem,
And both besuited well the “ Curds and cream"-
The season's wholesome beverage, rich and broken,
Each into other jumbled by the rocking.
Let Maro praise his " Copia pressi Lactis," -
Dry musty cheese-curd merely ! -Let the practice
Of supping half-boild " Sowens” still prevail
Through Esk, through Annan, and through Niddisdale.
Let Galovidian wives their stomachs cram
With eggs well scollop'd up with bacon ham,
Whilst Ayrshire men, to taste and nature true,
Prefer to ham and eggs the “ Irish stew.”
Let Braxy through the Highland glens prevail,
Far-noted “ Fife-folk” still delight in “ kail;"
Let “ hotch-potch" reek on every Lothian board,
And brose with Lennox stomachs well accord;
Let Bamff and Fruchy live on salted herring,
Such sapless diet to the best preferring ;
But o'er them all a “ feast” of loftier name
Let latest times record—“ the curds and cream.
The festal banquet “ Druids” deign'd to share,
May well with every modern dish compare.
“ Plate,
• “ Her waly nieves like midden creels."_BURYS.
“ Cæteris paribus"--what must not the anns have been ?


1821.)
Harvest Home.
923
Some brew thefr drink in jugs, with forward scoup,
And pour the reeking beverage through a stroup;
A ready " Shelty" stands in waiting by,
Around the board distributive to fly.
A painted bowl we've seen of China ware,
The size uncommon, and the pattern rare
An heir-loom of the house, whose fretted edge
Of high antiquity affords a pledge.
The well-worn spoon-mouth still retain'd the " shank,"
To speak of all our drouthy fathers drank
Around the parent bowl, expectant still,
The empty glasses crowded in “ to fill.'
And tumblers too in modern days appear,
Our brewing skill to prove, our board to cheer;
Each to his taste commixes up his toddy,
Nor pins his taste to sleeve of any body.
Old maids are fond of glasses long and narrow,
Like sheep-shank bone divested of the marrow;
And “Fleur-de-lis-mouth'd” well spread jelly glasses
Do well enough for clowns and country lasses.
A Pot there is of noted size and fame,
Capacious, vast, the “ mickle Pot" by name.
And where the true-born, home-bred brother Scot,
Who does not recognize the “ mickle Pot ?"
Amidst the brotherhood he holds his place,
Vast Moderator of the boiling race.
Wide o'er his mouth an iron rainbow bends,
And fasten’d to each ear the bowl extends;
No housemaid-plaything this, to lift, and hang
Upon the “ bleezing ingle,” with a bang;
But ready, ballasted, with seething store,
Two Hynds can scarcely poise him from the floor.
And see he comes !-amidst each speaking eye
Anticipation beams in ecstacy-.
With back sore bent, and shoulders on the spring,
Two brawny youths this
ample “ Punch-bowl” bring,
In which each drouthy Wight may steep his soul,
Scorning the competence of jug or bowl.
And sweet the flavour which exhales around,
As down the ladle sinks, the depths to sound;
That broth pot ladle, sorely lipped, and riven,
Serves yet to send full many a soul to Heaven.
Trips up the consonants in Geordy's prose,
Relumes the carbuncles on Tibby's nose,
Cheers up the fiddler on the Girnel lid,
And makes the only cheerful, blest indeed !
Gives honest, homely hearts to shew themselves,
And teaches more than all the Parson's shelves.
Ye men of books_ye absent, thoughtful men,
Oh, would you drop one little hour the pen ;
And, 'stead of bothering your sicken'd brain,
Idea catching, with incessant pain
Compelling still “ reluctancies to rise,
Which fancy, not experience, supplies.
Oh!-but I “oh” in vain away my time,
Wasting on you admonitory rhyme;
Else I had bid you join a “ Village wedding,”-
Or, say you like my present theme,, “ Maiden."
There you might see, what books may not contain,
Nor second-hand Reporter can'explain,


394
Sketches of Scottish Character, No. VII.
(June,
The human character, distinct and free,
From uniform, well-bred monotony.
Then might you melt your thoughtfulness away,
And be as happy and as wise as they.
Contrast with this the polish'd social state,
The dull gentility that marks the great.-
“ This room is hot-how very hot it is,
My Lady Lobster's rout was nought to this."
“ Indeed," responds my lady, in his arm,
" It is, my dear, insufferably warm."
Pray, madam, don't you think the stage a bore?"
“ How very loud these horrid creatures roar!"
And thus Sir Simeon, and his lady still
Their fashionable part in life fulfil.
From play to rout, from rout to ball they go,
Dress'd in one everlasting Domino.
But tumbling, rolling, sprawling on his way,
Comes in the straw-clad masker, “ Auld Glenæ ;"
A lengthen'd pole adorns his better paw,
Well swathed with ribbons, and well wrapp'd with straw,
Like shaggy bear he heaves his limbs along,
And drives, and leaps, and bustles through the throng;
Tries every art the younger folks to “scar,"
And only joins the reel, the sport to mar;
Trips up the dancer in his figure pace,
And thrusts his stubble presence in each face;
With Lizy foots the droll duett away,
And capers to the tune of “ Auld Glenæ.”
Then winds his bunchy arms her waist about,
And bears aloft the farmer's daughter out;
“And wha can this be now?" each damsel cries;
“ What can he want wi' Lizy ?" each replies.
“ Atweel,” rejoins a third, “ she's nae great prize!".
But round the stack-yard ricks has Tibby gone,
To watch the absent lovers, all alone,
To spy the lovers, or as “spite” might say,
To wile from out the barn her “ Tam” away.
But Tam has other fish this night to fry-
The “ Village Toast” has early caught his eye;
With her he dances, and with her he drinks,
Nor heeds full many coughs and knowing winks
From jealous Tib, who bridles up her head,
And sits and sulks upon the girnel lid-
Tossing her heels in anguish
to and fro,
To every proffering partner, saying, Nom
Then hurrying to the door, with backward glance
Design'd to pierce her lover like a lance.
The “ Village Beauty” chuckles in her heart,
Essays with double care the winning part;
Her pretty little dimples play the while,
And point with certain destiny her smile.
The opening napkin half her breast reveals,
And half from raptured gaze the snow conceals ;
Whilst bitten into scarlet—soft and pouting,
Her parted lips, like Charon-buds, are sprouting;
And round her plump and Venus-moulded frame,
There hangs a witchery that wants a name.


1891.]
Harvest Home.
326
Her tale-tell eyes, amidst their swimming pride,
O'er all this armoury of love preside ;
Till crimson'd o'er, the lily of her cheeks
At once her innocence and triumph speaks!
The Fiddler now has had his “
quantum suff.”
In plain good English, he has had enough.”.
Or, if in Scotch, his present state I drew,
I'd say at once, the Fiddler he was fou.”
A tankard still replenish'd from the store,
And emptied still, had still made way for more ;
Till all his senses melted into one,
He sat a musical “ Automaton."
From girnel-lid unpausing music threw,
And aye the bow to “ Dainty Davie" drew;
Within their lids his eyes delight to dwell,
Or only peep, like oyster, from its shell-
Those maudlin light grey eyes, that now are moister
Than any Pandore or Newhaven oyster.
There is no pause, no respite from the reel,
Still round and round the Lads and Lasses wheel
Clap with their hands and loudly scream, and shout,
Beat with their beels, and leap and spin about.
E'en “ Aunty Ann” her cleeky staff foregoes,
Forgets her asthma, and her corny toes ;
Spreads out her petticoat, like peacock tail,
And up the dance begins to set her sail.
Old “ Aunty Ann” has seen the “ Forty-five,"
And e'en to recollect " the Forty" can contrive ;
And yet so hard the fate of " Aunty Ann,".
She never yet has partner'd been to
Report, indeed—but one can not receive
One quarter of the worlds' “ make believe"-
Report said something once of lover bold,
Who dared his passion, and his hope unfold,
Address'd a maiden heart at “ forty-two”-
Address'd, assail'd, secured, and broke it too-
One year was spent, the dismal “ Forty-three,"
In all the anguish-dream of misery;
But Time resumed his tear-repressing power,
As tender Ann commenced her “ forty-four;"
And now the case she reasons as it stood,
“ I ne'er was married, but was once as good.”
Her language since, is full of moral worth,
She sighs at marriages, laments a birth;
Wonders full oft how folks can merry be,
Amidst a world of sin and treachery :
Pities the fool, who laughs for laughing-sake ;
Above all computation hates a rake;
Yet, at a bridal, or a maiden pot,
Can play a part, look cadgy, and what not ;
Immerge the world's ingratitude in punch,
And festal cates with toothless jaw-bone munch;
With Francie eye the merry hearted Rout,
And sometimes too with Francie « shake her foot."
92
man.
But Francie takes the floor with widow Watson,
For Francie now has got his shoes and “spats” on
The decent Widow modestly refuses
But Aunty's glee a confidence infuses;
6


326
Sketches of Scottish Chardcter, No. VII.
[June,
And Archy Tait forgets his goblin story,
And foots it through the floor in all his glory,
Sets to the Widow first, a wary man-
Then wheels, and breasts it up, with “ Aunty Ann"-
So on they bob, and hob, and nob away-
And who'so fit to reel and set as they
A beam the rafters binds from side to side,
And there “ Rob Paton,” figures, leg astride,
In all the topmost pitch of festive glory,
Hitching along his strange observatory;
Eying with rapture meet this scene of joy,
And playing off, by many a trick, “ the Boy;"
Till, sad mischance! to fate or whisky due,
Plump from the “joist,” he tumbles like a clue;
And following fast, come closely at his back
A brace of fails, and many a dusty sack.
To fall is nothing--any one may fall,
And never rue the tumble after all ;
But then to stir, to look unmoved around,
Your lubber limbs still squatting on the ground,
Upon a sneering, mischief-loving band,
Requires, to say the least, some self-command :
This felt Rob Paton keenly, up he started
And quickly through the stack-ward postern darted,
Plotting some mischief still, by method strange,
Position only alter'd by the change.
Nor long the plot, till shouldering, grunting on,
Straight through the bobbing crew has Grumphy gorie
In reckless speed. Midst screaming and dismay,
She fairly carries “ Aunty Ann” away.-
As rode Europa, so did Aunty ride,
And each did sit their palfrey, “ leg astride;".
The one, Bull-mounted, sought the western shore,
The other, Sow-supported, sought the door-
Nor door, alas ! nor outlet found the brute,
By which to bear her maiden rider out;
Só round and round the barn old Aunty drives,
With hand and heel to keep her seat contrives,
Plays off her sowmanship to shaking sides,
And through a very stream of laughter rides ;
But Francie has slipt out, amidst the fray,
Resolved to drag a culprit from his play;
And this the full extent of “ Paton's” sin,
'Twas he that drove the furious stranger in-
One shake is lent him, Rob maintain' his look,
And halflins smiled,-again old Francie shook
The helpless victim ; dure as whinstone rock,
Rob still remain’d, at each successive shock;
Till shooting like a pebble from a sling,
Rob feels the force of Francie's parting swing
Unseats the widow in his wareless speed,
And all inconscious proves “ a Friend in need."-
The music now is mute, the minstrel low,
Lies stretch'd at length amidst the barley mow;
* Though some painters have given Europa a different and more modernized position,
it is all a hoax?


1881.]
Harvest Home.
327
In noise and clamour's spite he seeks repose,
And only breathes “ discordance” from his nose;
Yet by his motions still, in mimic guise,
The tune he humours, and the bow he plies.
Whilst sides and arms the giggling limmers nip,
Or draw the tickling corn-straw o'er his lip;
Till roused into perception, up he springs,
And wakes with fitful energy the strings.
Now all the drouthy Dons have gather'd round
The mystic Pot, in wonderment profound ;
Tale after tale succeeds of marvels past,
And still the next more marvellous than the last.
Of elf-shot cows they talk, and loss of grain,
By shaking winds, or long-continued rain;
Or storms of drifted snow that heap'd the “ slack,"
Till some mischancy packman with his pack
Bung'd up old Granny's “ Lumt," her only light,
And shut the view of heaven from her sight.
The ranks are thinning fast, as two by two
The lovers rush, the “ northern lights” to view;
And wives and widows urge the homeward rout,
And coax, and drag, and push their partners out. I
This is no unusual occurrence.-An old woman who occupies a seat immediately
under the pulpit, and opposite to my pew in the church, is regularly employed, during
the latter part of the minister's sermon, which, to say the truth, is sometimes not a lit-
tle soporific, in-
" Drawing out a thread wi' little din."
+ The story of the Packman is this.-During the severe winter, 1739-40, a poor old
woman's cottage, which stood in the midst of a narrow glen or slack, had been com-
pletely drifted up, even to the upper extremity or head of the “ Lum.” A packman
happening to be travelling in the course of a day or two, and after the snow had consoli.
dated, in the direction of the said lum, was suddenly engulphed, and suspended from
his pack by the shoulders, with his feet playing in full swing over the sooty mysteries
of the old woman's “ rannel tree." Their mutual terror and astonishment may be
more easily conceived than described.
In illustration of the state to which this Scottish carnival, now, happily for the mo-
tals of the people, fast falling into disuse, frequently reduced those who were engaged
in it, the following anecdotes are related :-" Tak aff, my guidwife there," said the
gudeman of Burniwhistle, who, along with his better half, had been enjoying, to a late
hour, a neighbouring farmer's Harvest Home“ Kep down ye're mistress, man ; an'
lay a sheaf o' corn afore the auld mare or ye gang to your bed.”_Upon investigation,
however, it was found that the gudewife of Burniwhistle, who, along with her spouse,
had improved her time during the evening, was amissing. She had, in fact, slipt off
from behind her husband, unperceived by him ; and, as their homeward road lay for a
considerable way within sea mark, there was nothing but “ ride and run” amongst all
the numerous domestics of Burniwhistle. The gudewife was happily found at last, lying
precisely where she had fallen, upon the soft beach, and up to the very mouth in salt
water. “ Na,” were the words of her soliloquy, as each succeeding wave urged its way
more and more forcibly into her mouth, " Na, sirs, saw ony body ever the like o' that,
to gang an' change the drink upon us at this time o' the night~Na, no anither drap, I
tell ye, gudeman, though the house war fu’-Snuff that candle there”—a cloud having
at this instant passed betwixt her vision and the full moon—“Snuff that candle there;
can na ye snuff it, callant, an no stan’ gauping in my face like a gled o'er gone !”
A servant lad was returning in pretty good case from one of these late orgies, when
having to pilot his course amongst a number of old, and in many instances, deep coal
pits, to his utter horror, and immediate restoration to his senses, he found himself sud.
denly suspended by the fingers and nails, over, as he conceived it, an unfathomable
abya. Here he hung for hours, roaring lustily, but in vain, for assistance, and expecte


328
June
Sketches of Scottish Character, No. VII.
Confusion now usurps the seat of Fun,
As round the floor in tipsy squads they run,
Disorder'd dress, and faces all on fire;-
The very walls with revelment perspire.
At last arrive it must, the parting hour-
At two, or half-past two, or three, or four,
No matter when
the joyous minutes speed
On swallow wing, the sad are slow indeed ;
So Shakespeare said, and so said " the Gudeman,"
Who now to smell the morning air began-
Scoup'd from the hollow pot one tankard more,
Drank health and thanks to all, and “ lock'd the door."
JUVENALIS, Junior.
ing every instant, upon the giving way of his very insecure hold, to be precipitated to the
bottom. The very nails were pulled from his fingers, and the tops were worn from his
shoes, by frequent and ineffectual efforts to relieve, in some measure, his hands by
means of his feet. Day-light, however, after a most dismal interval, appeared at last,
and discovered to him the bottom of the pit, within an inch or two of his feet.
A friend of mine, still alive, and in every sense of the word, an estimable and respect.
able member of society, being upon his way to visit an old acquaintance, had fallen in
with a merry-making of the description I have endeavoured to sketch. Entering at
once into the humour and the spirit of the meeting, in the course of a few hours he be.
came as foolish and as happy as any one of the company; and when he took his de-
parture under the darkness of a cloudy night, there were some hints given by the gude-
man, respecting the propriety of his lodging where he was. However, no fools are so
positive and headstrong as those who are so, not by nature, but by art; and on towards
the termination of his journey my friend rould pass, in spite of all the deep mosses, and
kittle steps, and narrow planks, which lay iri his way. In fact, the more difficulties and
dangers were conjured up to dissuade him, the more resolved was he to meet and sur-
mount them all a circumstance not at all unusual in his situation. A calf had that
very evening been lost at the farm-town, towards which, though entirely without the
knowledge of any one there, he was journeying. The whole family had turned out with
lantern and with torch, in quest of the stray beast; and after various unsuccessful ef-
forts, had bent their steps towards what was called the “ Dominie's Puddle," a deep
ditch, or stank, filled with mud, over which a narrow and elastic foot-path deal was laid.
As they approached this suspicious spot, a sudden and heavy plash was heard, followed
up by a suitable accompaniment of flouncing and foundering amidst the mud. The
light which they bore being immediately turned upon the quarter whence the noise pro-
ceeded, they discovered with joy what they conceived to be the object of their search;
and proceeded, without loss of time, to lend the necessary aid, in extricating the help-
less brute from instant suffocation. Again and again was the shapeless lump of defile-
ment rolled over, amidst the long and meadow grass, ere the unlooked-for discovery of
a human countenance and form was made. To set up a scream of the wildest dismay,
to dash down and extinguish the lights, and to escape homewards with the speed of
thought, was, to the terror-struck and half-distracted party, only the work of an instant.
In vain did the object of alarm gain his feet, and let loose his tongue, which the mud
had for some time silenced. The faster he ran, and the louder he shouted, the more
convinced were the pursued, that the “ Enemy" himself had a plot upon them, and was
extremely solicitous to decoy them into his purpose. Against his entry into the house
every door was barred, and every window secured ; and it was not till after repeated as.
surances of his personal identity, assurances of his being really and truly a man, and
neither beast nor hobgoblin, that he was permitted, amidst laughter inextinguishable, to
enter. The gudewife, however, had taken to her bed; and the gudeman became, in the
course of a few hours, the father of his seventh child, a month too soon.


1821.]
Voyages and Travels of Columbus Secundus.
T. CHRISTOPHER NORTH, Esq.
RESPECTED SIR, -As I am almost teazed to death by the impertinencies of
people inquiring when the second edition of the TRANSACTIONS OF THE WIG-
WAM Society is to appear ; and as I am so much taken up otherwise, that it
is impossible for me to correct the press in sufficient haste to satisfy their im-
patience, I send you, for interim publication in your next Magazine, three
chapters of the second book of the Voyages and Travels of my friend Colum-
bus Secundus the whole of which interesting work will appear in that edis
tion. Be so good, at same time, as request Mr Blaekwood to advertise it on
the cover next month, for which purpose I inclose title-page. Your diploma
as honorary member will be delivered you by a deputation of the Society.
I am,
RESPECTED SIR,
Your
very
humble servant,
Edinburgh, 4th June, 1821.
Thomas THUMB, Sec.
THE VOYAGES AND TRAVELS OF COLUMBUS SECUNDUS. PART II.
Edina! Scotia's darling seat!
All hail thy palaces and tow'rs,
Where once beneath a monarch's feet
Sat Legislation's sovereign powers !
BURNS.
While I retain reminiscence of smells,
Or cogitation of unpleasant odours,
I'll ne'er forget thee, Canongatian Inn.
DR SAMUEL Johnson.
Introduction.
I Had no sooner recovered from the on the west, to the closes of the Abbey-
fatigues of my last voyage, than, like hill cow-keepers on the east-from the
Sinbad the Sailor, I began to think of Grange Toll to Stockbridge. Unlike
new adventures : and considering that the hasty tourists from the south who
the metropolis of Scotland, for all the occasionally visit us, I have, not with-
learned men it contains, has never yet out considerable risk to my clothes,
occupied the attention of any very and often to the manifest offence of
philosophical traveller, I determined my organs of smell and sight, traced
that my next tour should be through the curves of almost every close, the
the streets and lanes of this ancient wavings of every bow, and penetrated
capital. In pursuance of this design, the inlets and outlets of every wynd,
I have perambulated from the Water- in this seat of science and of art, for
House to the World's-end Close from my own information, and that of my
the Nether Bow to the Watergate- fellow-citizens.
from the Cowfeeders' lanes at Lochrin,
CHAPTER I.
It may naturally be expected that I comparative merits of Old Town or
should commence this chapter of my New Town, streets easterly or wes-
Travellings with a detail of the longi- terly, to those who may find interest
tude and latitude, the bearings of the in such pursuits, honestly declaring,
streets, and so forth ; and that I should that I have no intention of setting my
then go on to particularize all the pub- fellow-citizens by the ears, by praising
lic edifices, erected for this purpose or or blaming either at the expence of
that purpose, in due order, and with the other.
due encomiums on the present and In my perambulations through
former guardians of the city purse. “ mine own romantic town," the first
But I leave the task of moralizing thing that struck me was the diversity
on stone and mortar, and on the of names on the sign-boards as I pass-
VOL. IX.
?S


330
Voyages and Travels of Columbus Secundus.
(June,
el along. It may be a very proper and perceive the name of Fielding over
thing, for ought I know, for the own a shop where second-hand furniture is
er of every particular face to have sold,-
-or the lover of histrionic talent
his appropriate denomination ; and, to see Edward Quin designate a re-
provided the said denominations do tailer of old clothes in St Mary's
not interfere with privileged associ- Wynd; and how must the pride of
ations, let them wear them in peace a native of Scotland be humbled, when
for me. I have no particular objection, he finds the honoured name of George
for instance, to John Glasgow dealing Buchanan prefacing the sign-board of
in groceries and spirits at the Main a stocking-maker in the Cowgate,-
Point,—or Robert Puisley keeping the and the revered one of John Knor ap-
West Kirk Session records of births, propriated by a coach-hirer in Thistle
marriages, and deaths ;-to Peter Street.
Stirling letting horses to hire in Rose Thomas the Rhymer may indeed
Street, -or Robert Lithgow dealing in find the law a more profitable employ-
sugars and teas in Thistle Street. Let ment than the making of verses; and
the magistrates and councils of these Mr Robert Hood, and Littlejohn, may
royal burghs, if they see meet, assert deserve some creilit, the one for con-
in their own way the honour of their fining himself to the sale of British
respective corporations. But when I spirits, and the other to the manufac-
find the name of John Dryden attach- ture of gingerbread and muffins; but
ed to the sign-board of a block and no change of circumstances can recon-
pump maker in Leith, I cannot think .cile us to the idea of Solomon dealing
of the heterogeneous combination with in jewellery in Rose Street,-or Moses
patience; and I have often heen tempt- and surm repairing umbrellas and
ed to tear down the board which sug- making shoe-black in the West Port
gests associations so contrary to those of Edinburgh. Nor do we think it is
which every reailer of English poetry very beseeming in Matthew to occupy
feels passing through his mind on the himself in the sale of stone-ware in
sight or inention of this honoured Hanover Street,-or that the profes-
But this is not all. One can- sion of a spirit dealer is becoming in
not walk the streets with their eyes Paul ; and Mark can never hope to
open without meeting with some such reconcile us to his letting of furnished
incongruity of name and profession; lodgings in Lady Lawson's Wynd, -
and were it not for the carts and car or Mr Luke excuse himself for ex-
riages, porters, chairinen, dogs, and posing woollen-drapery to sale on the
puppies, which interrupt one's way, I North Bridge.
solemnly protest, that I should rather TIenclaus may be so humble as not
prefer walking with a bandage over my much to value himself on the circum-
visual organs, than have my early as stance of his ancestor being a King of
sociations so rudely dispelleil, and the Sparta, and brother to Agamemnon,
names of the departed great brought and, for aught we know, he may judge
down to the level of ordinary life. Gri- well. The ministry in the present de-
muldi may practise clock and watch- pressed state of the country will cer-
making in Prince's Street, if he chooses, tainly not adventure another Trojan
though I should rather prefer his ex- war, on account of any thing that may
ertions on the stage,-and even MÍrs happen to the spouse of an upholsterer,
Mary Wolstonecrofi may keep an eat even though John Paris, the shoema-
ing-house at the bottom of Leith Walk, ker in the Kirkgate, were a lineal de-
if she feel so inclined ; but I can never scendant of the ravisher of Helen, and
be brouglit to think that it is proper though the upholsterer himself repre-
or becoming in a Joseph Addison to sell sented in his person all the royalty of
meal and barley,--for a Milton to de- ancient Greece.
vote his time to the hanging of bells,– In addition to these, we have I.
for a Newton to degrade himself by Reynolds, instead of painting for mo-
the making of shoes, or baking bread ney, or fame, or both, keeping stables
for the lieges,—or for a Locke to sell in the Candlemaker-row ;-Guy ma-
apples in Leith Walk.
king boots and shoes in Rose Street :-
What must an admirer of the novels Jimes Thomson betaking himself to
of Tom Jones, Amelia, or Joseph the splitting of lath in New Street,
Andrews feel, if he chances to walk instead of a singing the Seasons as
along our street called the Cowgate, they roll;"-Collins selling silk-iner-
name.


1821.] Voyages and Travels of Columlrus Secundus.
331
cery, in place of writing Odes ;-Sa- quite evident to the most casual pas-
wge fabricating breeches in Rose senger, that if the customers of those
Street ;-Swift teaching vocal music, gentlemen would be content to go
-and, above all, the renowned Wile without bread, clothes, and a few other
liam Wallace retailing spirits in the articles, which, after all, are only little
Canongate.
temporary conveniences, and the gen-
But it would be tiresome to enume- tlemen themselves turn their talents
rate the splendid constellation of cele- to writing, there would be an end, as
brated names now to be found in the to other nations, of all competition in
capital of Scotland; and it must be arts, sciences, and literature.
CHAPTER II.
This is the wonderful lion from the wiles of Africa—the king of all Kandymals—ten
feet five inches from the point of the nose to the tip of the tail, and ten feet five inches
from the tail to the nose-only five years old--the most finest handymal ever travelled.
He can carry off a bullock in his mouth, as thof it wur a lamb, and are as gentle as a
lady's lap-dog.-Geet oop, my fine fellor.
Showman.
Having demonstrated, in the pre- is a book-binder, and the other fills the
ceding chapter, that our native city is office of surveyor of excise.
not destitute of names celebrated in of Kings, (I mean no trcason) we
Literature and science, and the names can boast of a good many in Edinburgh,
in most instances are every thing,) I but none, I am sorry for their king-
proceed to show, that in other respects ships, wielding a higher sceptre than
we have no reason to complain. . We the peel of the baker, or the dung-fork
have Lambs and Lions in considerable of the stabler. A very respectable fa-
numbers ; Smiths, Cooks, Websters, mily of Earls, and a Marquis, who is
Tailors, Clerks, and Colliers, in great assistant port-surveyor at Leith, com-
quantities indeed ; and as, in every pletes the catalogue of titled names;
populous city, a multifarious assort- though a good many individuals are
ment of Blacks as well as Whites. The found, notwithstanding, who call them.
prismatic colours of the celestial bow selves Noble.
give name to many respectable indivi. There are not many indigenous
duals ; Young and old are in the usual Birds in the capital of Scotland; but
proportions ; but few Gentles, and only specimens occur of Swans, Doves, and
one Gentleman, are to be found here, Cruws, though not very plentifully.
although the rents of the greater pro- Peucocks, though ornithologists may
portion of Scotland pass through the stare at the assertion, I am disposed to
hands of the professional inhabitants. considerastruly nativeanimals. Though
A number of Hopes there are, but not there are numerous Roses, our south-
one is to be found who owns the name ern neighbours will be surprised to
of Fear in this ancient capital. Law learn that I have not been able to de-
is prevalent every where ; but Justice tect a single Thistle in Edinburgh ;
is confined to the manufacture of hats and notwithstanding the long period
in the Pleasance ; and Virtue, I am Christianity has been the religion of
sorry to say it, I have only found in our island—notwithstanding the in-
the humble dwelling of a stabler in dustry of our clergy, and the existence
the Grassmarket, and in a worsted of numerous Bible and Missionary So-
shop in Union Place.
cieties, I am afraid I shall scarcely be
It may startle the friends of Pres- believed when I say, that in the Scot-
byterian church government, when I tish Athens there still exists a family
mention that Edinburgh supports no of
very
amiable Pagans.
less than eight Bishops, independent Being in the neighbourhood of the
of those of the Episcopalian and Ro- sea, it is not wonderful that there
mish churches; but to calm their fears should be a good many Fishers in
regarding the danger of the establish- Edinburgh ; but what would Lin-
ment, or the necessity of another na næus have said, if he had been told of
tional league and covenant, I beg to a Salmon living in Hanover Street,
mention, that of these dignitaries two of a lladdow being a manufacturer in
keep stables, and feed cows,-two ac the Lawnmarket, or heard of Flound-
commodate strangers with furnished ers who were able to guard a mail-
lodgings,—two are tobacconists,-onc coach, and let lodgings in Canal Street?


332
Voyages and Travels of Columbus Secundus.
(June,
Edinburgh has long been justly ce- that the inhabitants of that quarter of
lebrated for Bells ; of Horns there are the city indulge more in reveries than
as few as can reasonably be expected those of other districts. The mem-
among so many married people ; Hun- bers of the Astronomical Institution
ters are very numerous; and though will probably be able to give a very
we have no English Foxes, yet the good reason for two Moons appearing
ancient capital of Scotland affords co- in the same hemisphere at the same
vers for a good many Tods, who, more- time.
over, may even be seen walking in the It sounds something like a truism
streets at noon-day without molesta- to say, that there are many Scotts in
tion. Bulls there are none; though Edinburgh ; and it would savour of
Bullocks are occasionally met with, national vanity to boast much either
and plenty of Hogs. of Guns there of the former or present achievements
are a few ; but the most timorous need of Scotsmen; yet I hope I shall be
not be afraid of them; as, to instance pardoned for remarking, that the ca-
no more, one feeds cows in Thistle pital of Scotland now possesses one
Street, in place of exploding powder ; Scott, with whom none of the knights
and another, having bid adieu to his of England are able to break a lance,
murderous profession, fits the lieges or all of them put together to equal in
of the Canongate with the necessary the open field.
articles of clothing.
I conclude this chapter with men-
Though the Moon daily meets the tioning for the information of my ju-
eye of the passenger in the great tho- nior readers, that if they feel any pre-
roughfare of Hanover Street, shining dilection for the tender passion, they
over the door of a china-merchant, may have their stomachs Alled at Love's
yet it has not been observed by our tavern on the South Bridge; and if
medical people, that the residents in it be convenient for them to know
that street, either south or north, are more, I will not withhold the neces-
less sane than in other streets, where sary and consequent notice, that an-
it may be supposed the influence of other Love deals in little Graces and
that luminary does not reach. And Cupids, under the appropriate deno-
though another Moon lights the shop mination of midwife, in Carrubber's
of a grocer in Nelson Street, it has not Close,
been stated on any good authority,
CHAPTER III.
O may 1,
When life's last prayer trembles on my lips,
Sink to repose in calin unruffled peace,
Like the mild glory of the setting sun ;
And when the great change comes, may I awako
Bright as the orb of day, when from the east
He rises in his strength.
Christian Hope, a Poem.
The next object which attracted my haps that of the public; but unfortu-
attention, was the state of the Edin- nately my pocket-book and pencil had
burgh churchyards. After hearing a been left at home in my travelling-
very worthy gentleman read half an jacket, and I had no other resource, in
hour from a paperone Sunday forenoon, these circumstances, but to put my
(I make a point of attending church hands in my breeches-pockets, and
regularly, how good we all ought to saunter along in deep and serious
be here, if we wish to be happy here-
after-in the interval of the service, I
MEDITATION AMONG THE TOMBS.
took a walk through the burying There is nothing more solemn than
ground which surrounds the churches a walk in a church-yard, and did the
of the Grey Friars. From the monų- good people of Edinburgh, who ma-
mental stones which rose up in a thou, 'nage the public affairs of their fellow-
sand fantastic shapes on every side, it citizens, ibink it expedient, medita-
was my intention to have made a se- tions among the tombs might not be
lection of inscriptions, to improve my unpleasing. But as things are at pre-
own taste in epitaph-making, and per- sent arranged, no one who has not


1821.] Voyages and Travels of Columbus Secundus.
333
learnt to look upon the most disgust- accommodating manners of a courtier ?
ing and repulsive objects in nature Might not a cabbage or a cauliflower
with indifference, will, as a matter of raise an appropriate vegetable urn over
choice, visit any of the Edinburgh the grave of an alderman-a bush of
repositories of the dead. A late tra- holly, or furze, betoken the unapproach-
veller, Mr Williams, from an inspec- able dormitory of a lawyer - and a
tion of the cemeteries of other coun- plant of hellebore, or rhubarb, point out
tries, has suggested the propriety of the remains of a professor of the heal-
some improvements in our own ; and ing art? The distinctions of nations
I am happy to observe, that several might even be perpetuated after death;
individuals, who think shrubs and and those who attached value to such
flowers are fully as ornamental as rank distinctions, could easily be gratified.
grass, nettles, and hemlock, have dress- The shamrock might flourish over the
ed up the little spots intended for their grave of an Irishman—the thistle rear
last repose in a very becoming man- its head over the remains of a native of
ner. I would therefore suggest, for Scotland-and the leeic raise its green
the consideration of those who have pillar over the sleeping-place of a
the power of carrying improvements Welshman. The dreams of the poets
into execution, that all the church- would thus be converted into reality ;
yards should be carefully levelled, and and the fabled transformations of mor-
divided by walks into long dormitories tals into flowers, be made evident to
of six or eight feet in breadth, edged the most unlettered imagination. The
with box or other ornamental border; roses and the lilies of beauty, prema-
and that the friends of the deceased turely snatched away, would, in this
should, for so many years, have the li- manner, bloom afresh in the lilies and
berty of planting such shrubs or flow- the roses which decorated the graves of
ers over the little spots where their the fair ; and the reputation of virtues
friends were interred, as they should or talents, expand in perennial luxu-
judge proper.
riance over the silent beds of those who
Were this plan to be carried into ex- were distinguished for wisdom or bem
ecution, instead of hillocks formed of neficence.
human bones and fragments of coffins, I am aware that the space necessary
our cemeteries would present the ap- for the comfortable accommodation of
pearance of a large garden, in which the dead would require the providing
the contemplative might walk and pe- of additional ground; but as this is als
ruse the lettered monuments with some ready imperiously required for the
degree of comfort. A laurel bush might present population, and must be spee-
then mark to the eye of the passenger dily procured in some shape or other,
the last resting-place of a celebrated this objection to the proposed plan is
character; a none-so-pretty might be easily got over. Besides, I see no
token that the inhabitant below was great harm, in the present poverty of
not deficient in personal charms; a the city funds, in making the over-
noli me tangere, indicate that the little crowded population of our church-
spot was sacred to a maiden lady; and yards pay the necessary expences of
a lily or narcissus tell, more eloquent. the new arrangement. The sale of the
ly than a thousand words, that inno- soil, to the depth of seven or eight
cence and virtue reposed there in peace. feet, for the purposes of the farmer,
Forget me not might mark the graves would, at the same time that it remo-
of the most intimate and dear friends ved a serious and alarming nuisance,
-the primrose or the snow-drop, the increase the agricultural produce of
earthy
cradles of infancy and childhood the county for many years to come;
-while a red and white rose might and the indecency or the violation of
pleasingly recal to the memory of chil. feeling which such a measure might
dren, the virtues, or the tender ties be thought to involve, vanishes at once,
which had united the hearts and the when it is considered how often the soil
hands of their parents.
is dug over, that the ashes of one indi-
Farther; might not the regal corolla vidual may cover the body of another.
of an iris point out the last bed of a To the patriotic and public spirited,
noble personage-a cluster of tulips moreover, such violation of sepulchral
perpetuate the remembrance of the repose comes recommended by many
scarlet and ermine of official characters powerful considerations. The spend-
and the ivy mark to the mind the thrift and the miser would thus be-


1821.]
Sicily.
335
ty, the miserable listlessness of this their adversaries returned ; and my
enervated people. They were, how- friend observed, that every time one
ever, deceived. This apparent calm of the latter fell, he was, if wounded,
was but the prelude to an unexpected borne to the rear-if killed, had part
storm; and that storm burst forth on of the regimentals of the next dead
the very day dedicated to the most im- soldier thrown over him, in order to
posing spectacles of religion.
encourage the idea, that the latter
My friend, his wife, and daughter, were suffering the most from the con-
had been invited by a gentleman of flict. In fact, they were finally obli-
their acquaintance to his house, in the ged to fly. Every check to their de-
morning of Sunday, for the purpose sires now removed, the mob proceeded
of getting a better view of the proces- to the main object of their mission.
sion in honour of the saint, than they This was to pillage the hotel of Gene-
could do elsewhere. They had sat a ral Church, immediately opposite my
considerable time, indeed nearly to the friend's, like so many locusts, entering
end of it, when their host, from cer at all quarters, rifling, plundering,
tain indications in the mob, and his burning, and not hesitating to ex-
local knowledge of the people, ailded claim, “ If they found the General,
to some rumours whispered about at they would kill him!” Luckily for
the beginning of the parade, of an un- him, he effected his escape; but a
expected tumult, pulled my friend by number of gentlemen, who were chief-
the arm, and begged him, for any ly foreigners, lost their all by the
sake, to retreat to his hotel, and pro- dreadful rapacity of the mob. 'They
vide for the security of the ladies. For threw furniture, clothes, money, every
some time his anxiety to behold the thing out of the windows; dashed the
continuance of the pageant, made him superb mirrors and glasses to pieces ;
slight his friend's entreaties, till this with the most infatuated cruelty, strip-
often-urged solicitude, confirmed par- ped many of the persons they found in
tially by hisown observations, hastened the house of the essential articles of
him from the room. They had but lit common clothing, scarcely being pre-
tle way to go, and although encountered vailed upon to spare them their lives.
by suspicious-looking ruffians in their Having consummated their triumph,
road, entered their hotel, which was they attacked the buildings where all
in the Great Square, in safety. Scarce- the public archives and valuable docu-
ly had they effected this, when a shout ments of state were preserved. These
from the populace, aud a discharge of they collected into the middle of the
fire-arms, told that the religious cere- square, and forming them into a huge
monies were over. It was the signal pyramid, set the whole mass on fire.
for their cessation, and the commence All this while the alarm of the numer-
ment of the rioting. A wild cry di- ous inhabitants of the square may be
reeted my friend's regards to the easily conceived. The uncertainty of
Square, where he observed a parcel of the views of the rioters, and the little
soldiers flying before the multitude. hope of the military being able to re-
They made several attempts to stand, store tranquillity, added to their em-
and were joined by others, but always barrassment. They dared not stir out
beaten off. The first attack by the for fear of being murdered, and to
rioters was on the jail. This they remain within seemed equally bad.
succeeded in breaking open, and libe- As the most probable way of turning
rating all the felons. These wretches, the enraged multitude, (from whom
covered with their red and yellow rars, they every moment dreaded an attack,)
cut a sorry figure, and hastened either my friend and the other Englishman
to hide themselves among the mob, in his hotel collected all their trunks
who had now increased to immense and valuables, and having emptied
numbers, or to disencumber them- their contents on the floor, indulged the
selves of their insignia in the gar- hope that the semblance of submission
ments of those who lay dead about might be of avail. The latlies in the
them, from the fire of the soldiery. house then removed to an inner apart-
One monk, in the garb of his order, ment, as remote as possible from dan-
came forth with this respectable crew, ger, and the sight of what was going
bearing his mattras very coolly on his on. Their policy was not tried: with
shoulders. Though beaten back, the mi- the expiring flanes of the consuming
litary still continued their fire, which archives the mob retired. The suc-


336
Sicily.
(June,
ceeding night was dreadful: no sleep; on mentioning that ladies were in dis-
but no attack. Monday pasaed tran- tress, the gallant man rowed back, and
quilly: the mob went about, but com- bade him tell his master he was at his
mitted no excesses; several of the lead- service. To get the ladies secretly and
ing authorities of the town thinking securely to the boat was now the point:
the whole but the effect of a popular it was no time for compliments. This
feeling against General Church, were they happily effected by keeping close
in hopes that peace and order would to the walls of the houses, under shelter
be again restored.
of the broad extending roofs ; though
My friend, however, determined they ran imminent danger twice or
to leave a city which was in such thrice, from the crossing shots of the
an unsettled condition. Two days skirmishers, pursuing each other from
before the tumults, he had intended street to street. Their brave pilot, Mr
to sail by the Neapolitan packet to D, was very near losing his life
Naples, and had, fortunately, at that for his humanity; for, having pulled
time procured his passport and passage. his boat ashore to await their coming,
A young Englishman, who was to have a flying troop of vagabonds rushed
been his companion, but who forbore, down upon him, and mistaking him
from negligence or some other cause, for an Italian, from his dark com-
to take out his, bitterly repented his plexion, held their daggers to his
folly, and wished to bribe somebody throat. His presence of mind saved
to make an attempt to get him one bim. He saw their mistake, and as a
now; but no one could be found to last resource, pronounced the word
undertake the office. With the hopes, Inglese.” It was enough; the crowd
therefore, of getting on board the packa re-echoed it with “ Vivas," and passed
et, he sallied out to the water-side; but, on their way. My friend and his party
to his inexpressible disappointment, got on board: they pushed off, and
not a boat could be got hold of, and thought themselves secure from dan-
the packet had put out to sea, to be ger; but they perceived, with dread,
without the reach of the batteries. He the ramparts in the possession of the
returned to his hotel-his only hope populace, and men standing at the
of relief, in succeeding tranquillity. În guns with matches in their hands.
the meanwhile, the great body of the Whether they omitted firing on them
troops had shut themselves within the for humanity's sake, or whether they
barracks, and closed the gates, having were not observed, is uncertain : they
as yet taken no part against the people; reached the Neapolitan frigate in safe-
but, to the terror of every one, on ty. They found her decks crowded
Tuesday morning they madle a sally, with refugees of every description :-
and commenced an attack on them. Princes, lawyers, divines,-in short,
The people had evidently been aware every one who, dreading the popular
of their intention, for, instead of flying, resentment, had been fortunate enough
they resisted, and a regular action com to escape to this vessel. Among others,
menced. It raged long and bloody; but I believe, was the commander-in-chief.
by degrees waxing fainter in the im- The Duchess of -, who would
mediate neighbourhood of my friend's scarcely have condescended a few weeks
residence, he deemed it his duty, at all before to have cast eyes on Mrs B-
perils, to make another attempt to get was now most humbly thankful for the
his wife and daughter on board the loan of a few of the meanest articles of
packet. He sent his servant to one dress. The heat was very great, and
quarter, while he went in another di- their decks extremely crowded; but
rection. His own attempt was unsuc- every body suffered with a good grace,
cessful; but his servant had the luck thankful to Providence they had esca-
to espy an English gentleman just ped the horrors of a revolutionary ban-
leaving the beach, in his boat, for the ditti.
same purpose. He told his tale; and
VIATOR.
5


1821.]
337
The Coronation.
THE CORONATION.
NOTHING could have occurred more was merely the pageant of a military
in the shape of good fortune, for that triumph, and an infraction of the Eu-
Fast crowd of the well-dressed and ropean law of states ; it was the pro-
well-bred, whose life and breath is in claiming of a rebel Imperator, by a
talking and Bond-Street, than the an- revolted army. But the universal
nouncement of the coronation. All eclipse has passed off, and men may
the usual topics had failed, or were on now pursue their old occupations, with
the point of failing. The impeach- out being perplexed by darkness, and
ment of John Bull before the Com- worse perplexed by those blinding and
mons had served its day, and the glory fierce lights of fanaticism and passion
of Mr Bennett. But the subject, plea- which Regicide and Ambition waved
sant as it was to the gossipry of the over every land but our own.
West End, and perplexing as it might The coronation is now fixed for the
be to the honourable individual in 19th of July, and extensive prepara-
question, notwithstanding the fresh tions are being urged in every depart-
laurels which it had twined round his ment connected with the ceremony.
impartial brow, was no longer talka- Westminster Hall will form an exhi-
ble. 11r Hume's speeches, too, had bition of singular and picturesque
run their course, and, amusing as it splendour. It is the intention to make
was, to see Lord Palmerston forced a complete representation, of the ut-
out of his taciturnity, and tortured most inagnificence, of the Halls of
into perpetual reply, even this pastime Chivalry-a realization of the beau -
had perished. The crowning of the ideal of Gothic grandeur. Imagination
King has come to interpose between is of course not easily satisfied; but
those conversationists and annihilation, all that can be done by a profusion of
and every mouth is now filled with pompous decoration, guided by consi-
inquiry, and every brain on the stretch derable taste and knowledge, will un-
to compass a ticket for Westminster, doubtedly be done. The day will be
Hall or the Abbey.
one of no slight toil to all the parties,
There are those, however, who, for they will probably be occupied
without necessity or appetite for news, from daylight till midnight. But the
are glad that this great ceremony is King will have the heaviest share of
about to take place, and who look up the fatigue; for, as the principal, he
on it as among the evidences that quiet will have no relaxation of ceremony.
times have come, and the assurances He is, however, in excellent health.
that such will continue; they feel It is understood that this stately dis-
that though the placing of the dialem play will be in close conformity to the co-
on the monarch's head, is not essen ronation of his late Majesty, which was
tial to his sovereignty, it valuable arranged on the precedent of that of
to the national respect for the throne; James II. We maythus conceive the fu-
and, without any of the factitious de- ture from the past. In 1761, the first
light of courtiers, they rejoice, for the symptoms were advertisements in the
sake of general tranquillity, that the newspapers for the hireof windows, and
good times have come again, when the seats on scaffolds, in view of the pro-
men of England, freed from hostility cession. There is generally a clause
abroad, and disturbance at home, may in the leases of the houses in view, en-
celebrate the ancient ceremonies of titling the landlord to their use at the
their glorious and flourishing land, coronation. In 1761, some of these
and cry from their hearts, “GOD SAVE houses cleared from L.700 to L.1000.
THE KING.”
Ground for the scaffolds was let, in
It is said, that at present there some situations, at three and four gui-
is no crowned king in Europe. I neas a foot. A list of the prices of
have not leisure to look into the ac- former times has been published,
curacy of this statement, but I can re which may lead us either to the value
collect no regular coronation since the of their money, or the quantity of
beginning of the century; and this is their curiosity." At Edward I.'s coro-
of itself one of the striking proofs of nation, the demand for a seat was half-
the boundless confusion and distress a-farthing. At Edward II.'s the peo-
of the times through which Europe ple had doubled either their wealth or
has struggled. Napoleon's coronation their passion for royal shows; for the
Vol. IX.
2 T


338
The Coronation.
[June,
price had risen to an entire farthing. riment by the scaffold-makers to raise
At Edward III.'s it was a halfpenny. their prices, while the Jacobites were so
At Richard II.'s it was a penny; and fully determined not to see , the seats
the Chronicler seems to think that the thus continued at a crown. Jacobitism
show was not worth the
money. At was gradually giving way during the
Henry IV.'s it was still a penny. Hen- reign of George I., under a process of
ry V. was popular, and the people paid exile, starving among the Highlands,
down to the extent of twopence, in tes or chains in the English castles ; and
timony of their admiration. Henry at George II.'s coronation, loyalty
VI. of whom Shakespeare says, “that spoke out, and bid up to half-a-guinea,
he could neither fight nor fly,” was no The coronation of the late king found
favourite, yet old English liberality England without a disturber at home,
prevailed, and gave twopence to see and with nothing but triumphs abroad;
hịm crowned. But coronations became the prices accordingly sprung up to
more frequent in his time than was an extravagance unparalleled. The
good for the setters of windows; the front-seats in the galleries in West-
market was choaked, and the prices minster Abbey were let at ten guineas
dropped from their original loyal ele- and upwards each. Seats in the street
vation of twopence to a penny, thence were from one guinea to ten; and
to a halfpenny, and, in some disas- every tile, from which a glimpse of
trous instances, the “glory of regali- the procession could be had, was a
ty” might be seen for nothing. Better place of eager canvassingand exorbi-
times then came round, and Edward tant demand.
Iy. saw the price of a seat twopence Whether the custom of seeing the
once more. Here it seemed to have gra- , military shows, which occurred among
pitated, and twopence was the price us while we were a nation of soldiers,
at the coronations of Richard III. and may not have deadened the general
Henry VII. But those were days of curiosity, is only to be decided by the
trouble, and the wisdom of English- event; but large speculations are ra-
men was better occupied in preserving pidly being entered into in this traffic
the few pence left to them by the of seats; and if the weather is tolera-
York and Lancaster plunderings. The ble, the conflux of the multitude will
country grew opulent and curious probably exceed all that has ever crowd-
again, and allowed fourpence for a view ed and crushed in England. The pe-
of Henry Vni.'s coronation. The riod of the year is favourable. The
same amount was upheld in the days last coronation was on the 22d of Sep-
of Edward VI., and even in those of tember; and in consequence, the re-
bloody Queen Mary, who had, how. turn of the procession from the Abbey
ever, been popular, and had ascended was nearly in the dark, and the luck-
her throne with an outh to preserve less persons who had remained in
protestantism. The nation exulted in Westminster Hall, had been for an
Elizabeth's appearance, and, in their hour before in absolute night, from the
joy, disbursed a six pence. The pro- dimness of the building. It is expect-
gress of liberality and loyalty were ed that the entire ceremony will now
thenceforth rapid ; for James I. and be concluded in daylight. But it must
Charles 1. each brought a shilling. be hoped, that this will not preclude
Charles Il. found the nation in a pa- the illumination of Westminster Hall;
roxysm of absurd joy, and was beheld for nothing can bring out its magni.
at the expence of half-a-crown, the ficence but artificial light. It would
most rapid advance on record, and to look comparatively meagre even in full
be altogether attributed to the rapture sunshine.
of getting rid of the Roundheads. By an order in Council of the 17th of
James Il. obtained the same price; September, 1761, the Peers and Peer-
for it is observable, that, but in the esses, were summoned to attend at
single instance of Henry VI.'s tumul- Westminster in their robes, by eight
tuous and overwhelmed time, the o'clock in the morning, and a vast quan-
prices once raised on popular folly tity of further regulation was detailed
have never falien. William and Queen for the different public bodies. But
Anne saw the advance half-a-crown there was one body which defied the
more, and they were worth it. The fulmination of the order in Council.
House of Brunswick came among us The hackney chairmen and coachmen
when we were a divided nation, and bad framed"a tariff for their services
it was thought too formidable an expe- during the day, which the Lords of


1921.]
The Coronation.
$39
the Privy Council thought exorbitant. are come this day to do your homage,
A mandate was accordingly issued, are you willing to do the same?"
enjoining their attendance on the pub This was answered by the universal
lic by four in the morning, without cry of “God save the King.” Divine ser-
any rise in their fares, under threat vice followed—the sermon was preach-
of exemplary punishment. The cul- ed by Doctor Drummond, Bishop of
prits were stubborn, and hostility Salisbury, and soon after Archbishop of
would have shewn itself in some for- York, froin 1 Kings, X. 9. “Because
midable shape, but for the interference the Lord loved Israel for ever, there.
of a patriotic chair-master, who did fore made he thee king, to do judg-
what the Lords could not do, and ment and justice.” At half past three,
quieted the repugnants by advising the Archbishop of Canterbury placed
them to trust to the public generosity. King Edward's crown upon the King's
This they did, and made large sumns, head, -the assembly cried out, “ God
frequently receiving a guinea for a save the King," and the Park and
shilling fare. To obviate riot, some Tower guns were fired. The nobility
regiments of horse paraded the town, then put on their coronets; and their
and as a final provision the nearest different classes did homaye in succes-
hospitals were prepared for the recep- sion, beginning with the archbishop
tion of those who might suffer by ac- and the bishops. The Queen's corona-
cidents in the crowd. The arrange- tion was then commenced, and con-
ments appear to have been altogether ducted in a similar manner. The de-
made, with much good sense and hu- tail closed with the throwing of gold
manity. If they had been adopted at and silver medals among the specta-
the marriage of the late King of France, tors, within and without the Abbey.
the horrible catastrophe of that day This ceremony occupied six hours,
would have been escaped. On the 22d and it was nearly seven o'clock when
of September, at vine, the King and the procession re-entered Westminster
Queen came in their chairs, through Halī. All there was costliness and
the park to Westminster Hall. The state. Earl Talbot, as steward of the
Peers and Peeresses had been by that household, rode on his charger up the
hour ranged in order. The King and hall, at the head of the servitors, with
Queen entered the Hall, and took the first course; and the dexterity of
their seats at eleven. The forms of his horsemanship was for a long time
bringing forward the Regalia to the the subject of conversation. TheCham-
tront of the throne followed ; and the pion Dymoke rode up in the inter-
grand procession to the Abbey was ar- val of the first and second courses,
ranged, the thirty-two barons of the and challenged all disputers of the
Cinque ports bearing the canopies over King's title. On the champion's throw-
their Majesties. The platform, on ing down the gauntlet, a white glove
which this splendid train marched, was Aung from one of the galleries.
was four feet from the ground, and The incident was trivial, but it was
nearly two thousand feet long. Every subsequently rumoured that the Young
one was struck with astonishment Pretender had been in London at the
when the great entrance of the Ab time, and even present at the corona-
shewed them the magnificence within, tion, in a female dress. On the cham-
a grand vista of tapestried walls, and pion's return, the King's titles were
scaffolds covered with scarlet, and gala proclaimed in Latin, French, and
leries filled to the roof with the first English. Thus closed the ceremony.
families of the land, in the rich dresses About ten their Majesties had retired,
of that day of silk and embroidery. the peers, &c. followed soon after, and
After the placing of the Peers and at midnight the doors were, by a cus-
Peeresses, their Majesties entered the tom much more “ honoured in the
Abbey at half pastone, the Westminster breach than the observance," thrown
choir singing Purcell's Anthem, from open to the multitude, who filled the
Psalm cxxii, verse 1, &c. “ I was glad place with riot, and tore away every
when they said unto me, Let us go thing that came within their reach.
in to the House of the Lord.” On the It is to be presumed, that a more con-
King's being seated, the Archbishop of siderate plan will be adopted on the
Canterbury pronounced the “Recog- present occasion ; and that, instead of
nition,” turning to the assembly,
suffering the people to brutalize them-
“Sirs, I here present to you King selves, and trample on each other in a
George the Third, the undoubted king midnight tumult, the doors will be
of this realm ; wherefore, all you who closed, and the Hall and the Abbey


340
The Coronation:
[June,
kept in the order of the coronation, than in suffering the licence of the
for the indulgence of the public curi- giddy and drunken rabble, and that,
osity for a month to come. There will too, at an hour when riot might be
be a more genuine and general grati- the most unmanageable and the most
fication in this mode of admission, extensive.
THE BRITISH GALLERY.
London, June 12, 1821. than anger; if otherwise, they are still
MR EDITOR,
more entitled to compassion ; nor
In a former number of your Maga- would their opinions' be worth noti-
zine, I took the opportunity of send- cing at all, if it were not for the in-
ing you a few remarks upon the pro- calculable mischief they may produce
ductions of some of our modern Artists, upon the rising generation of artists,
then exhibiting at the above National by attempting to remove from their
Institution, which has subsequently view the few land-marks that remain,
re-opened with a collection of admira- to guide the youthful student through
ble paintings, from the pencils of ma- the intricate and perilous road to ex-
ny of the most celebrated of the old cellence. The ill effects of such doc-
Masters, the consideration of which trines are annually becoming more
forms the principal subject of my pre- and more apparent, in the numerous
sent letter. With respect to the pe- exhibitions with which the metropolis
riod annually chosen by the directors is crowded at this season of the year,
of the Institution, for an exhibition of and the evil will continue to increase
this nature, a considerable difference in proportion as our rising painters
of opinion exists among the public and depart, in practice, from the examples
the great body of the Art; many per- of the highest authorities in art. "All
sons imagining that it is somewhat this mischief arises from the pernicious
invidious towards modern artists to habit, too prevalent among the artists
open a Gallery, containing the choicest of the present day, of servilely imita-
specimens of ancient art, precisely at ting the works of some one of their
the period when the exhibition of the successful contemporaries, instead of
Royal Academy is open to the public; applying themselves to the sources and
while others, and perhaps with more course of study which enabled the in-
reason, believe that the selection of dividual object of their admiration to
the present period, by bringing the obtain his celebrity. The instance of
works of the ancient and modern Ar- your distinguished countryman, Mr
tists into immediate comparison, may Wilkie, forms a complete illustration
have a beneficial effect upon the latter, of the truth of the above observations.
by stimulating them to make those His style is founded on a deep study
efforts which are the uniform result of of nature, and some of the eminent
a competition with great and acknow- Masters of the Dutch and Flemish
ledged excellence. I say acknowledged, schools, and being a man of first rate
though I am perfectly aware that there genius in his peculiar walk of the pro-
are some professional men, it is to be fession, and of great industry, complete
hoped for the credit of the art that the success, at an early period of life, na-
number is trifling, who from motives turally crowned his efforts. The con-
upon which it is not necessary to dwell, sequence is that he has an host of in-
affect to deny the superiority of the different imitators, who, without pos-
old Masters over the moderns, and sessing either his capacity, or perseve-
who even go so far as to speak of their rance, copy the peculiarities of his
productions with apparent indifference touch and manner, instead of adopting
and contempt. It is indeed lament- theprinciples of his study, and threaten
able, that any individuals can be so to overwhelm us with an inundation
stupidly blind, or so maliciously. en- of indifferent pictures, in a line of art
vious, as to maintain such doctrines, which derives its chief value from its
and still more so, that they should fidelity to nature, and the mechanical
number in their ranks, not only men graces of its execution : So far indeed
of considerable acquirements in the is this censurable practice carried, that
Art, but also some of its professors at I have several times noticed the pecu-
our great National Establishment. liar manner of Mr Wilkie introduced
With such persons it is quite useless into subjects requiring a totally oppo-
to argue. If they speak their real sen- site treatment.
timents, they merit pity much more An artist desirous of obtaining in-


1821.]
The British Gallery.
341
struction, especially in the higher de- them, of what possible detriment can
partments of painting, should join to they prove to the encouragement and
the study of nature and the antique, a reputation of the modern performances,
deep acquaintance with the works of which are said so far to surpass them
the old Masters in that line of art in real excellence? while, on the other
which he finds his genius and inclina- hand, if their merits are superior to
tion impel him to pursue. This has the productions of the present day,
been the uniform practice of every art- how can it be injurious to the practi-
ist wbo has risen to great distinction cal skill of our rising, or even esta-
in this country, particularly of those blished artists, to have yearly placed
whose day is closed, or whose suns are before them such a large collection of
setting amidst no inglorious beams; specimens in art, in every respect so
and perhaps it would be difficult to worthy of their study and imitation ?
produce brighter examples of the truth If blame attaches at all to the Institu-
of this observation, than is afforded by tion, it probably arises from its afford-
two historical pictures exhibited this ing artists a too difficult, rather than
year at Somerset House, by the veter- too easy an access to its exhibitions,
an artist Mr Northcote. Painted, as by not allowing gratuitous admission
they have been, at a period of life to all the students and members of the
when the creeping" hand of time” Royal Academy, or at any rate, to
commonly enfeebles the body, and obthose artists who have contributed,
scures the mental faculties, they stand and are contributing, to the exhibia
alone in the Exhibition, and challenge, tions of modern art at the Gallery ;
for vigour of conception, colour, truth, many of whom, and particularly those
expression, and boldness even of exe- who are merely beginning their pro-
cution, the most daring efforts of more fessional career, may be in circum-
youthful competitors. It would not stances that render it inconvenient for
be difficult to adduce, among our best them to visit the collection so frea
living artists, other instances of the quently as would enable them to reap
advantages accruing from a study of all the advantages they might desire,
the old Masters; but it is probably from its study, were the present re-
quite unnecessary to dwell at any great- strictions removed. To those farther
er length on a subject upon which I advanced in their profession, it would
should have supposed, till very recente probably be a matter of comparative
ly, there could have existed no differ- indifference; still, however, it might
ence of opinion among conscientious appear more liberal in the directors,
and competent judges. Unquestion- and more consonant with their decla-
ably there is a vast deal of trash bought red views, if the privilege were ex-
and sold in this country, under the tended to the whole class of artists
names of the old Masters, for which we have above mentioned. In short,
they are in no respect responsible ; but Mr Editor, I am confident that the
speaking generally of the works exhi- more the genuine works of the old Masa
bited at the British Gallery, very few ters can be brought into the notice of
of the above description have crept in- painters, and the public at large, the
to the various collections hitherto sub- better chance there will be for the
mitted to the public. Most of them production of good original pictures in
have consisted of well-known genuine this country; and consequently, from
productions, by the most eminent art- the general improvement of the na-
ists; and it therefore does appear to tional taste, the greater will be the
require no small portion of ignorance encouragement afforded to the efforts
and effrontery, to speak of works, that of native genius. In saying this, how-
have in different ages and countries ever, I would not be understood as
so long stood the test of time, with recommending the mere copying of the
disrespect and contempt, or to main- works of the old, or any other Masters ;
tain, that the frequency of access to for copying, in the right sense of the
them, afforded by their annual exhi- word, can be of little service to any
bition, can have no other effect than one, except the student anxious to ac-
to interfere with the progress and en- quire the very first rudiments of his
couragement of modern art; which, art; and even he should avoid, as
by the bye, if it deserves the name, is much as possible, choosing any india
somewhat a novel mode of reasoning; vidual master for his guide, however
for, if the ancient pictures are so bad great his excellence. The power of
as some persons affect to consider copying a picture well. is a totally dis-


342
The Brilish Gallery.
(June,
tinct thing from sludying it well. have no effect on the Patrons of the
The former is probably within the Institution, by inducing them, in dis-
reach of any one possessed with in- gust, to withhold from public obser-
dustry, a correct eye, and an obedient vation these invaluable remains of de-
hand; but to discover the subtle parted genius.
principles upon which first-rate pic With respect to the species of en-
tures have been formed, and to incor- couragement hitherto afforded to mo-
porate them with the result of our own dern art by the Governors of the Bri-
observations and reflections, is a talent tish Institution, it certainly appears
of an intinitely higher and more use. inconsistent with their own declared
ful class, and is commonly attendant views on its first establishment, anıl
upon first-rate genius alone. One of is by no means calculated to produce
the greatest prerogatives of man, and those beneficial effects upon the mo-
which distinguishes him above the rest dern school, which were so anxiously
of the creation, is the power that has anticipated. But having dwelt upon
been bestowed upon him, of making this topic in a former letter, I should
use, in all human pursuits, of the la- not again have alluded to it, if I had
bours and discoveries of preceding ge- not lately viewed the singular phe-
nerations. It is chiefly to this quality nomenon in art, now exhibiting in
that man is indebted for his superiority this metropolis, from the pencil of Mr
over the rest of the animal creation; James Ward, representing an allegori-
and let not the young painter suppose, cal commemoration of the triumphs of
that his art forms an exception to this the Duke of Wellington at Waterloo.
grand general rule. The more he is Into the merits of the picture, it is not
able, if the expression be allowable, to my purpose to enter, not only from the
look out of himself, the greater will be regret I feel, in common with others,
his progress; and, however paradoxi- at seeing an artist so unfortunately
cal it may at first sight appear, the miscalculate his powers, but also from
more original will his productions be- the sincere respect which it is impos-
come. It is to this mode of consider- sible not to entertain for the great and
ing the great monuments of art, that varied talent which Mr Ward has so
have been achieved by preceding mas- frequently displayed in some branches
ters, that I would anxiously direct the of the profession. The above picture
attention of our rising artists. Let was bespoke, it is understood, by the
them not be afraid of fettering their Directors of the Institution, at the
genius by an attention to the rules price of a thousand guineas, in conse-
drawn from the highest authorities in quence of a sketch of the subject ex-
their art ; for “ Rules," as Sir Joshua hibited by Mr Ward at the Gallery
Reynolds well observes, and he was two or three years ago; being selected
himself a good instance of the truth of from a numbers of others, painted by
his own position, are fetters to men different artists, who were anxious to
only of no genius; as that armour, obtain the commission that had been
which upon the strong is an ornament promised for a large picture, to any
and a defence, upon the weak and one who could produce the best design
mis-shapen becomes a load, and crip- in commemoration of the victory of
ples the body which it was made to Waterloo. That such a subject should
protect.” If such were the opinions have been proposed by the governors,
of this eminent man, and they are considering the general feelings of en-
opinions which he has uniformly in- thusiasm excited by that great event,
forced throughout the whole of his is not surprising ; though, strictly
invaluable Lectures, it would appear speaking, it possesses no greater claims
there can be no great degree of dan- to an historical subject, than a news-
ger likely to arise to the present gene- paper to a history; but it certainly
ration of artists, from a judicious study does appear unaccountable, that, out
of the works of the great masters, of many other sketches of merit, the
which are annually so liberally lent to election should have fallen on one,
the public by the directors of the which evidently shewed its author's
British Gallery; and it is, therefore, incapacity to conceive or execute a
fondly to be hoped that the senseless subject of this nature, even though he
clamour, raised by a few interested had confined himself to matters of fact,
individuals, who appear to think there instead of entering, as he has done,
can be no gain that does not conduce into the wide and unintelligible field
to their own immediate profit, will of allegorical fiction and absurdity.
66
14


1821.]
The British Gallery.
343,
The result has turned out exactly as C. Dolce, from the collection of his
the great body of artists, I believe, an- Majesty, is a very fine specimen of the
ticipated, when they first heard of the style of this master. The figure, in-
injudicious choice that had been made; deed, has more of the Saint Cecilia in
and which, it is sincerely to be hoped, it than the character it was intended
will render the directors more cautious, to represent, but the delicacy of the
on any
future occasion, in the subjects expression, the beauty of the colour-
they offer, and in the selection of the ing, and the bland and sweet effect of
artists by whom they are to be execu- the whole, perhaps, more than com-
ted. Mr Ward is a first-rate painter pensate, in such a subject, any defi-
of animals, and has occasionally pro- ciency in the strength and propriety
duced some ingenious landscapes, after of the conception. In the lower and
the manner of Rubens; but beyond amusing style of art, there are several
this, it is pretty evident, from the spe- excellent pictures by Jan Steen and
cimen afforded by his sketch, as well Teniers, particularly “ The effects of
as by the picture now exhibiting, nei- Intemperance," by the former, belong-
ther his powers, nor the limited nature ing to the Duke of Wellington, and
of his professional education, will allow “ The Interior, with figures at cards,"
him to proceed.
by the latter artist, from the collection
With respect to the collection of pice of W. Wells, Esq. the last of which is
tures at present exhibiting at the Gal- one of the best productions of this
lery, it is scarcely possible to speak in eminent painter, and a perfect model
adequate terms of admiration, whether in this line of art, for expression, cha-
we consider the excellence of individual racter, and felicitous execution. Be-
pictures, or the various specimens it sides the foregoing, many more in-
affords in almost every department of stances might be selected well worthy
the art; indeed there is scarcely an in- of the attention of painters and con-
different or doubtful painting in the noisseurs; but the detail would be as
Gallery
endless, as it would prove uninterest-
In the highest styles of art, how- ing to the generality of your readers, a
ever, the collection is certainly more large proportion of whom will pro-
defective than several others that have bably have no opportunity of seeing
preceded it, as the few historical, or the collection. Nor should I have par-
poetical pictures it affords, are by no ticularized even the above, if I had not
means of the first description ; a de- felt it necessary to notice some few of
ficiency, nevertheless, that is some- the pictures, in justification of the
what compensated by the admirable warm eulogium I have deemed it com-
landscapes and sea-pieces of Claude, mon justice only to pass on an exhi-
G. Poussin, Ruysdael, Both, Vande- bition, which appears to entitle its
velde, Backuystom, and Vanderhei- liberal contributors to the grateful
den. The most remarkable among thanks of every real admirer of the
them, are the story of Narcissus, by art.
Claude, in the possession of Sir George If, Mr Editor, in the foregoing
Beaumont, and the landscape, by G. pages, I have endeavoured to point
Poussin, in the collection of his Ma- out, somewhat strongly, the errors of
jesty ; both of which form admirable individuals, for whose professional ta-
examples, and particularly the latter, lents I feel considerable respect, or have
of the possibility of uniting the quali- ventured to censure that which ap-
ties of colour, breadth, effect, and even peared to me injudicious in the pro-
spirited execution, to the highest fi- ceedings of the distinguished directors
nishing, and the most elaborate imita- of the Institution, I trust that their
tion of nature. The same remark ap- candour will acquit me of " setting
plies to many of the exquisite portraits, down aught in malice ;” and that they
with which the Gallery abounds, by will attribute my remarks to the real
Titian, Giorgione, Murillo, Vandyke, motives which called them forth, -a
and Rembrandt. There is also an un-sincere love for the art, and a desire
commonly fine portrait by Guido, of the to remove every impediment that may
Cardinal Übeldino, belonging to Dr So- arrest its progress towards perfection'
merville, which rivals the best works in my native land.
in the Gallery, in this department of I am, sir, yours, &c.
the art. The Herodias's Daughter,
A CONNOISSEUR:
with the head of John the Baptist, by


1981.]
The Glove.
345
Not a word Sir Gawain replies,
But down to the scarp he flies,
And entering the foss, by a desperate leap
He approaches the lion with fearless step ;
Who, as the glove he proudly seizes,
Lifts bis enormous head, and sneezes !
In dumb amazement (well they might!)
The nobles shudder at the sight:
And yet, I ween,
Full many a bosom with jealousy burn'd,
As, bearing his trophy, Sir Gawain return'd,
Slow, and with tranquil mien !
And now he gains the ditch's mound;
And, from the glittering throng around,
Loud peals of wild applause resound !
The Lady Cunigund, the while,
Radiant with vain delight,
To receive her knight,
Gets ready her softest, sweetest smile ;-
But not to him 'tis sweet !
So,
Bowing low,
He lays the glove at her feet,
Then, bowing lower,
Turns on his heel, and never looks upon
her more!
R. T.
THE LEG OF MUTTON SCHOOL OF POETRY.
No. I.
A GOOD article is like a bowl of Glas- we can,"is a recipe from which an amu-
gow punch-sharp, sweet, and spirit- sing article was never corrcocted, and
ed. But partial as we confess our- from which one never will be concoct-
selves to this delightful beverage, no ed to the end of time. It is perfect
man, we think, unfurnished with the balm to our souls, therefore, when, in
bowels of a Glasgow magistrate, would the ordinary discharge of our dnties,
stick eternally to the same liquor. For we chance to meet with a work so su-
our own part, we covet variety in our perlatively worthless and absurd, as to
tippling-alittle preliminary Sauterne, enable us to set all discrimination at
a reasonable suffusion of Black-strap, defiance, and conscientiously to inflict
and a copious supplement of Claret, the severest punishment admissible by
before we venture, without compass the laws of our profession. Such a
or quadrant, on the magnum mare work we have fortunately now before
of the punch-bowl. At such times us, in the shape of a goodly quarto,
we derive considerable enjoyment from and under the title of " Fleurs, a
a peppered spatch-cock, or a devil'd bis- Poem in Four Books.” The volume
cuit, which no one better than our own purports, by the title-page, to be printe
cook knows how to prepare. In perfect ed at Newcastle, by Edward Walker,
unison with our own physical taste is for the author; and to be sold by Wil-
the literary taste of the public. No- liam Blackwood, Edinburgh,and Bald-
thing delights our good-natured read- win and Co. London. We beg here, in
ers so much as a devild poet, or a the very threshold of our observations,
peppered political economist ; and ve to correct an important inaccuracy. Itis
rily, we are too skilful restaurateurs indeerl very probably true that the work
not to understand how to cater to their in question was printed as above stated,
taste. The truth is, that criticism, at Newcastle, by Edward Walker, for
selon les anciens regles, is neither a the author;- but we believe it to be
pleasing profession nor a thriving one. contradictory to the fact, and know it
To separate the faults and merits of a to be most libellous to the good sense
book, and administer to each a well of the public, to assume that even one
proportioned dose of praise and cen copy of Fleurs has been sold by either
sure, is of all tasks the most dull. “To of the respectable bibliopoles specified
praise where we may, be candid where in the title-page. It is unpleasant to
VOL. IX.
2 U


1891.)
Fleurs, a Poem.
347
generation. But come what may, the never groaned under their present in-
LEG or Mutton School will be eter- tolerable load; then had the pocket
nal. While the world contains weal- of our author never suffered by his
thy blockheads, a due proportion of poetry; and then had we been spared
needy parasites will not be found want- the cruel necessity of lamenting his
ing; nor can their existence ever be imprudence! In our extended com-
endangered, or their numbers mate- merce with the venders of literature,
rially decreased by any revolution less we have often remarked with wonder,
complete than the introduction of the the extraordinary powers of adhesion
Parallellograms of Mr Owen, or the which some works manifest to the
Agrarian Law of the Spenceans. With booksellers' shelves. We have seen
such unquestionable claims to perpe- some thousands of very tolerable ser-
tuity, we think their title to public mons so tenacious of their position,
notice much greater than has yet been as to baffle every endeavour to remove
acknowledged by the world. And we them, and which still remain in their
now venture for once, with gentle vio- original situation, to the great discom-
lence, to draw the blushing sycophants fiture both of the author and the bi-
from their comfortable retreats in par- bliopole.
sonages and noblemen's attic stories, The Bard of Fleurs is one of those
in order that, being duly magnified in obliging persons whose pen is at the ser-
our telescope, their lineaments may vice of any man in his neighbourhood
become visible for the first time to the with a pipe in his cellar, and a joint at
public at large. To be received as the his fire; and he makes it his peculiar
head of this distinguished body, we care, that those who possess every other
think the claims of the Bard of Fleurs luxury of life shall not want for poetry.
stand pre-eminently high. He is mark. There is a delightful singularity about
ed by a more than usual portion of the him. In his imagination, nature pos-
qualities characteristic of the LEG OF sesses nothing of sublime or beautiful,
MUTTON School; by all their vul- equal to a well decorated spit. The
gar ignorance, by more than all their God of his inspiration hangs suspend-
clumsy servility, their fawning adula- ed from a hook in the larder; and
tion of wealth and title, their hanker- were he to invoke a muse, he would
ing after the flesh-pots, and by all the inevitably hitch in something about a
symptoms of an utter incapacity “to hind quarter, or a long cork. To do
stand straight in the presence of a him justice, however, he is not un-
great man.". With all this, too, he grateful. A good dinner appears to
unites a boldness and an ambition als him a benefit which he can never suf-
together unknown among his sect. ficiently repay; and his imagination
Not contented, like them, to find his absolutely gloats over the memory of
solid reward in the gratitude of his the sumptuous repasts of which he
patrons, and the admiration of“ a few has partaken at Fleurs Castle, with so
partial friends," he has put forth his much satisfaction to himself, and de-
shallop on the waters, to brave both light to his hospitable entertainers.
the battle and the breeze on a wider As he writes, the ghosts of digested
and more tempestuous ocean. We fear haunches, in all their pristine obesity,
his courage can only be praised at the arise in his prolific fancy ; barons
expence of his judginent, and lament now no more, come forth at his bid-
that he must now be indebted to ex- ding, from their unconsecrated graves,
perience for a conviction of the prover- and smoke again upon the board. He
bial truth of the maxim, that “ the is haunted by spectres of murdered
better part of valour is diseretion." turtles, and apparitions of pheasants,
Oh that the Bard of Fleurs had been John Dorys, and ducks, and green
possessed of our knowledge of those pease. His bowels tremble as he writes;
matters; that he had consulted us be- his gastric juice is in a state of fer-
fore he ventured on the rash act of mentation; his liver ceases to be tor-
publishing! Then had the occupation pid; his palatal glands redouble their
of Edward Walker, Newcastle, been secretions; and the imagination of the
gone, and his types had reverted to poet is triumphant over the whole
their more humble and profitable em-
ployment of printing lottery puffs, and We think we have now said quite
hand-bills for the recovery of strayed enough of the author to excite some
pointers and stolen goods! Then had interest in his works; and we shall
the shelves of Blackwood and Baldwin accordingly proceed to lay before our
man.


348
Leg of Mutton School of Poetry.
[June,
meet
readers a brief account of Fleurs, a we are told, is extremely enchanting,
Poem, in Four Books,-the very pe- for from thence may be descried,
destal of his fame, on which it either
Springwood, and Stitchel, Marchmont,
inust rest, or be crumbled into dust.
Newton-Don,
The ostensible object of this “ facile Makerston, Henderside, and Mellerstain,
princeps” of The LEG OF MUTTON Wooden, and Mellenden, and Pinnacle,
School-this Napoleon of L'Ecole de Nenthorn, and Woodside, Mertoun, Dry-
Gigot-in his present work, is to ce burgh's Glade,
lebrate the beauties of Fleurs Castle, Rose-bank, and Edenham, and Broomi.
the seat of the Duke of Roxburghe.
lands."
Now, though Fleurs Castle is un-
In the following passage, the author
doubtedly a very fine thing, and the ingeniously
contrives to kill two birds
scenery around it much finer, yet with one stone, and puffs with the
our author has quite enough of me-
same breath both the Duke and his
thod in his madness, to be well con-
estate. Verily, it is well, as old Bur.
vinced that nobody would take the ton hath it, to praise mine host of the
trouble to read an epic poem, in four Green Dragon, for the ale of the Green
books, of which the beauties of Fleurs Dragon is good.
were the only topic. He was there-
fore very naturaliy led to diversi-
“Oh! might my verse but emulate my
theme,
fy his description of the beauties of
the place, by eulogiums on the virtues In choicestworks of nature, and of art,
In richness, beauty, and variety,
of its possessor. As even these can
Then were it such a wreath of fragrant
scarcely be supposed to afford sufficient
flowers,
matter for an epic poem in four books, Culled from his rich domain, as I could
the angelic qualities of the Duchess,
wish
and the youthful promise of her son, To lay at Roxburghe's feet ; memorial
were found to afford him matter equal-
ly interesting and apropos. In all this, Of kindness, and of gentlest courtesy,
however, there was rather too much Enjoyed beneath his hospitable roof.
sameness and monotony; and he was Having duly bepraised the Duke, the
therefore induced tastefully to varie- Duchess's turn, as might be expected,
gate his poem with descriptions of the
comes next.
neighbouring gentlemen's estates, with
laudatory notices of the owners, and to o Roxburghe ! such the heart and mind
Such thine,
introduce a few agreeable digressions
that mark
on such taking subjects as the Queen, Thy lovely Duchess,-form’d to grace a
the Radicals, Arthur Thistlewood,
Court;
Lord Wellington, Sir William Wal- But form'd alike for higher aims ;-to
lace, and the Gunpowder Plot. The spread
connection of these subjects, to be Around thy spacious dwelling smiling
sure, with Fleurs Castle, is not at first peace,
sight very apparent, and were no more Content, and happiness ; – to banish want,
to be looked for in this work, than a
And fell disease, and ignorance, and vice;
digression on pickled cabbage in a
To sooth and tranquillize thy years that
treatise on ethics, or an eulogium on
wain,
gin-twist in a volume of polemical di- And, while she this life's every duty fills,
With steps so soft, so scarce perceptible ;
vinity. On this, however, and on
As wife, and mother, patroness, and friend,
several other matters of equal import- With faith, and hope, and love to God,
ance, we have no time to enforce our and Man,
opinions, and shall therefore proceed To soar alofty-where virtues such as
at once to our extracts, and leave our hers,—
readers to judge what support they af Thus flourishing beneath the Saviour's
ford to the observations we have thus grace,
hurriedly thrown together.
Shall find their permanent their sure re-
ward.
The poem opens with a description
of Fleurs, and an etymological discus- Meanwhile, be it ours to praise the Source
sion on the origin of the name, which, For females placed in elevated rank,
however, like Xudibras's
Like Roxburghe's Duchess, or Northum.
66 Adventure of the bear and fiddle,
berland's;
Is sung, but broke off in the middle," Or the benevolent and mourn'd Buc
cleuch ;
for the question is left undecided at Or Graham, bordering near on England's
last. The prospect from the castle,
verge !"


1991.)
Leg of Mutton School of Poetry.
349
crew
men
Their Graces being now tolerably To rise in Virtue's cheek. Guilty or not,
bedaubed, he loses no time in bespat- Our Queen,her Daughter must have
tering the son with the same tasty
suffered much.”
materials.
Having passed with Aying colours
“ Thus Roxburghe's duchess finds her through this ticklish navigation, he
brightest gems
soon gets upon a safer subject, that of
Comprised within her lovely princely boy; Arthur Thistlewood and his plot. Here
Mature beyond his years ; with promise Whig and Tory are agreed ; this is,
fraught
indeed, sailing on smooth waters, and
Of all that fondest parents most can wish his cock-boat is already trim for the
In high-born youth,-if trained with pru. occasion. Mark how the “ Tempestas
dent care
in matula" breaks forth in the follow.
By culture's skill ;-quickness of paits, ing fine burst of indignation.
with frank
And noble bluntness,—manliness, with
“Oh! 'Twas base,
sweet
'Twas horrible, most horrible, to seek,
Hilarity, firmness, with sportiveness
By one infernal direful blow, to plunge
Combined; while thus alike in infant years Our Sovereign's Council in one sudden,
The father's and the mother's character
dire,
And features shine conspicuous. Oh ! 'tis And awful ruin ;-men of carriage mild,
sweet
Of principles averse to shed the blood
To view the rose-bud opening on its stalk Even of the blasphemous and barbarous
With charms peculiar, while it promise
holds
Of all the fragrance, loveliness, and grace,
Confederate against them. What ! such
That mark the full-blown flower.”
As Sidmouth, Harrowby, Vansittart, men,
In introducing the subject of the Who, howsve'er in politics opposed
Queen, the Bard of Fleurs is placed in to others ardent in their Country's cause,
a very unpleasant dilemma." In the Have lived so blameless in their several
first place, the Duke of Roxburghe is And elevated spheres, that even their
high
a Whig, and to abuse the Queen would
foes,
therefore constitute matter of offence Or rather their opposers in debate,
in the eyes of his patron. To praise Could shed a tear (as erst when Perceval,
her, on the other hand, would proba- The upright, and the good, received his
bly offend some other noble person, or fate)
the bishop, or the dean, or the rec- At deed so vile, so diabolical.
tor, or the parish clerk; and our au- No more repugnant to such deed accur.
thor is most anxious to stand well with
sed,
the whole world. What then does Nor more averse to all the clamour wild
he ? Mark with what skill this inge-
Of factious Demagogues, 'midst Britain's
Sons,
nious navigator steers his bark between Are any found, than those who cultivate
Seylla and Charybdis, avoiding the With skill the fertile soil round Fleurs
rocks of the one, and the shoals of the domain.”-
other,-how steadily he ports his helm,
-how quickly hediscerns the channel,
Our next extract is intended to con-
and seuds along with his pocket-haud secrate the fame of Mr Brown, the en-
kerchief for a main-sail.
gineer, who erected the late beautiful
chain-bridge across the Tweed. We
-“ Let it not
presume Mr Brown had invited our
Be thought, I would anticipate the event
author to dinner.
Of the inquiry awful, grave, and sage,
In Britain's Senate now pursued, to wipe 4 -Oh! follow down
The stain, if such there be, the direful Tweed's gentle course, 'midst Scotia's rute
stain,
ral pride,
From Britain's throne. Oh! in a daugh. To where, as placed by talismanie art,
ter's eyes,
Appears the wondrous bridge, of form
And such a daughter, pure in heart and most strange;
mind,
An arch inverted ;-from its airy top
What daggers had it planted in her soul, Finding support, -as though by glamour
To hear a mother's name bandied about,
And coupled with the charge, the odious And gramarye. Had Brown but chanced
charge,
to live,
Of vile adultery,--of thoughts impure What time the happy union erst was formid
Display'd in acts of shameless levity, His bridge commemorates, he had sure
That cause the unbidden blood with sud been dubb'd
den flow
Wizard by either border far and near.
VOL. IX.
2X
art


350
Leg of Mutton School.
(June,
rest
ful awe
Scott ;-
is seen
Knox;...
Had he but flourish'd in remoter times, Partly indeed extraneous ;-fruit-trees
When Rome's dread Pontiff gave alike the train'd
law
Around the spacious walls, their clusters
To art and science, as to rules of faith,
rich
A fate like Galileo's had been his ; By Buchan well preserved ;-while near is
Or either shore had vied with pious zeal,
view'd
To seize, if possible, the cunning wight, Colossal Wallace, on his airy height,
And try, whether from fathoms 'neath the Like guard presiding o'er the varied scene.
flood
Now, 'midst the walls where Haliburtons
He'd emulate his arch poised high in air."
Their weary limbs, -is view'd with mourn.
The following relates to Lord Na-
pier, and the General Assembly; but The future tomb of their descendant
who the individual may be who is dis-
tinguished by the very vague appella- While Buchan's bustand Buchan's self
tion of “ Eastern Anderson,” we con-
fess our inability to discover. Some And Buchan's tomb-with golden legend
of our readers may perhaps be more graced :
fortunate.
And may he long survive, with patient żeal
“ 'Midst Wilton's wooded banks, and ver-
Its high mysterious import to expound !
May he survive,—his heroes to record,
dant lawns-
Or literary,
With tasteful art combined ; Napier's re-
-or political,
Or patriotic,
-or in science skill'd!
treat,
Homer; and Washington; Thomson ;
From representing England's absent King, and Watt;
What time—in sage assembled Council (Of spruce Soho, in rural vicinage
ranged,
The Presbyters of Scotia's Sister Realm
Of Birmingham's aspiring smoky clouds ;)
Sidney; and Shakespeare; Rumford ;
Debated high of Discipline,—and Faith,—
Baillie; Fox;
The Nation's piety, and morals pure.-
Now Eastern Anderson there lives retired Of bibliopolist fame ;—the Ettrick Swain ;
Socrates ; Cicero; and Provost Creech,
From sicklier Climes."
Cæsar; Mozart; with Franklin ; Nelson;
We dare say our readers will agree
with us, that we have now exhibited While Angelo, and Aristotle, close
quite samples enough of the stuff of The motley band ;—thus aptly group'd,
which Fleurs is composed, and that it
is now full time to draw our article to To show what various ware this world is
a conclusion. But we must really give And mark, that Buchan has a heart, and
made of,
one more extractif we wanted an ex-
cuse, we would find one in the subject Its worthies to embrace of every class.”
mind,
of it-it relates to Lord Buchan. Who
is there that has visited the beautiful We have now done in good earnest
Abbey of Dryburgh, but, like our au- with Fleurs and its author ; for there
thor, has dwelt with admiration on is too much sobriety in his madness,
the fine taste of its possessor ! his to be longer en'ertaining. It is possi-
tomb and its inscriptions, his busts ble, merely possible, we think, that
and his red Colossus of the woods! he may have the “gumtion"* to de-
But it belongs to a kindred spirit to rive some advantage from the
present
sound his melodious praise. Hear the article; and we hope that the good-
Bard of Fleurs.
natured ridicule with which he has
" -Now,-keeping Tweda's course,
been assailed, may teach him the pru-
We pass Makerston, Littledean's' lone dence of enjoying the hospitality of
tower,
Fleurs Castle in peace and quiet-
And Mertoun's amphitheatre of woodland ness, and leaving the virtues of the
shade.
Duke and Duchess of Roxburghe to
Soon Dryburgh rears her lovely ruin'd receive their best reward in the love
fane
and gratitude of their dependents.
Embower'd in woods,—where Buchan Above all, we trust it may teach him
hangs his path
to furnish no further occupation for
Aloft in air, to tempt the willing feet
Of modern Pilgrims to the erst hallow'd
the types of William Walker, New-
shrine.
castle, and to keep his poetry, for the
Lovely indeed the tranquil ruin shews, future, in its proper place. We shall
With many an arch, and many a hall en keep our eye on The LEG OF MUTTON
tire,
School, and take an early opportunity
And narrow cell ;-with much to inte. of laying before our readers some fura
rest,
ther specimens of their productions.
I ween,
# Vide Dr Jamieson's Dictionary.


1821.7
351
Works preparing for Publication,
WORKS PREPARING FOR PUBLICATION.
LONDON.
A Selection of the Correspondence of To be Published by Subscription, Le
Linnæus, and other Naturalists, from the Brun's Passions, in Lithography ; by Pe.
original MSS. ; by Sir J. E. Smith, M.D. ter Simonau, Lithographer. In Five Parts,
F.R.S. &c. in 2 vols. 8vo.
at 5s. each.
The Second Volume of Mr Clutter Shortly will appear in 2 volumes, 12mo.
buck's History of Hertfordshire.
Practical Reflections on the Psalms, with
In 4to, with thirty plates and maps, a a Prayer added to each foregoing Psalm.
Copious History of Brazil, including more Archdeacon Daubeny has in the press,
particularly, its Geography and Com- Sixteen Sermons of the learned Bishop
merce; by Mr James Henderson, recent. Andrews, modernised for the use of gene-
ly returned from South America.
ral readers.
The Life and Remains of Mr Keats. Fashionable Orthodoxy; or, the High
Sermons by the late Frederick Thrus. Road to Preferment. Containing suitable
ton. With his Portrait.
directions for obtaining Popularity, Pa-
The Medical Student's Vade-Mecum, trons, and Promotion in the Established
being a work in the form of Question and Church ; with Instructions for the Educa-
Answer ; comprising Anatomy, Physio- tion of Young Gentlemen, intended for
logy, Botany, Pharmacy, &c.; to which the Ministry; and hints for Ordination,
will be added, an abridged and correct Preaching, &c. ; exemplified from the bast
Explanation of the Chemical Decomposi- living authorities.
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Irving, L.L.D. Holyrood House Acade- Rev. James Carlisle, of Dublin.
my, Southampton.
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In one 4to Volume, the History of An- and Memoirs of the Forty Eight Mem-
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observations, on the wines of the ancients; tion of Cook's Three Voyages, complete in
and will contain in addition, a Topogra- Seven volumes 8vo. With Thirty Plates.
phical Description of all the Principal To be Published in parts, each part
Modern Wines, and a Chronological His. containing one entire order, general and
tory of those used in England, from the particular descriptions of the vertebrated
earliest period to the present time. Animals, arranged conformably to the
Mr Busby, the Architect, is preparing Modern Discoveries and Improvements in
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Poems, by Mr Cornelius Webb ; consist- Life Time, and some introductory Re.
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The Visitation of Middlesex in 1663. W. Youngman, of Norwich.
By William Ryley, Esq. Lancaster, and A Second Edition of the Gymnasium ;
Henry Dethick, Esq. Rouge Croix. by the Rev. Dr Crombie.
A Work on Medical Jurisprudence; by A New Edition, corrected, of Bishop
Dr J. A. Paris, and J. S. M. Fonblanque, Watson's Theological Tracts.
Esq.
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To be Published by Subscription, in 2 the Nazarenes. In a Letter to the British
yols. demy, 8vo. The Royal Exile, or Reviewer; by Servetus.
Poetical Epistles, supposed to be written Shortly will be published, a reprint of
by Mary Queen of Scots, during the early that very rare and curious little manual,
part of her captivity in England; to which Arthur Warwick's “ Spare Minutes," or
will be added, other Original Poems. With Resolved Meditations and Premeditated
a Preface, Notes, Plate, &c.
Resolutions. This edition will be printed
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Buckingham, Esq.
cis Quarles and George Withers.
3


352
(June,
Works preparing for Publication,
EDINBURGH.
A Treatise on the Law of Bills of Ex. Son, and the Holy Ghost ; being a Vindi.
change, Inland Bills, &c. embracing a new cation of the Christian's Faith in the Doc-
edition of Mr Glen's work, (of which the trine of the Trinity, and of the Divinity of
publishers have acquired the copy-right,) Jesus Christ." It is proposed that an edi.
intended for the use of Practitioners, as tion of the work shall also be published at
well as Merchants ; with a Trader's Ma- Paisley, to be put to press so soon as suffi-
nual, or Digest of the Leading Doctrines cient encouragement is obtained.
and Peculiarities of the Scotch Law, which In course of this month will be published,
require to be attended to by Merchants, A Catechism for the Instruction and Direc-
Traders, &c.; the latter part of the book tion of Young Communicants ; to which is
being entirely original. The whole inclue added, a Compendious View of the Baptism-
ded will be a new work, comprised in one al Profession and Engagement, which young
octavo volume.
intending Communicants ought to renew
The Rev. Dr M‘Leod of New York is before their first Admission to the Lord's
about to publish, in an octavo volume of Table ; by John Colquhoun, D.D. Mini-
about 450 pages, a work entitled, “ Israel's ster of the Gospel, Leith.
God shewn to be one Lord, the Father, the
MONTHLY LIST OF NEW PUBLICATIONS.
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155.
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CLASSICS.
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1821.]
Monthly List of New Publications."
353
HISTORY.
LAW.
EDUCATION
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W. Light, 25th Regiment of Foot. 8vo.
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EXTOMOLOGY.
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MISCELLANIES.
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354
Monthly List of New Publications.
[June,
The Secretary's Assistant, exhibiting History of the Persecutions endured by
the various and most correct Modes of Su. the Protestants of the South of France,
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the Peerage and Baronetage Charts, 12nuo. Rev. Mark Wilks, 8vo. 2 vols. 18s.
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Bible Rhymes on the Names of all the and Antiquities. Vol. I. £4, 14s. 6d.
Books of the Old and New Testament, Travels in various Countries of the East;
with allusions to some of the principal In more particularly Persia ; by Sir William
cidents and Characters; by Hannah More, Ousely, Knt. vol. 2. £3, 13s. 6d.
8vo. 3s.
Recollections of a Classical Tour through
POLITICS.


1921.)
Monthly List of New Publications.
355
'various parts of Greece, Turkey, and Italy, Travels of Cosmo, the third Grand Duke
made in the years 1818 and 1819; by P. of Tuscany, through a large part of Eng-
E. Laurent ; with coloured Plates, 4to. land, in the reign of Charles II. (1659.)
£1, 18s.
Faithfully translated from the Original Ita-
Modern Voyages and Travels, vol. 5th, lian MS. in the Laurentian Library at Flo-
part 3d, containing Travels in Egypt, in rence; with 39 Views, &c. royal 4to. £4,
1818 and 1819 ; with twelve large and cu 4s.
rious engravings. 3s. 6d.
EDINBURGH.
Manual of Mineralogy; containing an A Memorial, by Robert Stevenson,
Account of Simple Minerals, and also a F.R.S.E. &c., Civil Engineer, relative to
Description and Arrangement of Mountain the Opening of the great Valleys of Strath-
Rocks; by Robert Jameson, Regius Pro more and Strathearn, by Means of a Rail.
fessor of Natural History, Lecturer on Mi- way or Canal, with Branches to the Sea
neralogy, and Keeper of the Museum in from Perth, Arbroath, Montrose, Stone-
the University of Edinburgh ; F.R.S. &c. haven, and Aberdeen. Together with Ob-
&c. in one thick volume, 8vo. 158. servations on Interior Communication in
An Essay on the Sentiments of Attrac. generol. Printed in Quarto, with a Sketch
tion, Adaptation, and Variety; by William Map of the Country. 5s.
Howison, 12mo. 3s.
The Poems of Alexander Montgomery,
The Ayrshire Legatees; or, the Pringle a Scottish Poet of the 16th Century; with
Family; by the author of " Annals of the Biographical Notices. By David Irving,
Parish," &c. 12mo. 78.
LL.D. In post 8vo. Beautifully printed
Elements of the Philosophy of Plants; by Ballantyne, 18s. Only 230 copies have
containing the Principles of Scientific Bo- been printed for sale.
tany, Nomenclature, Theory of Classifica Essayes and Characters of a Prison and
tion, Phytography, Anatomy, Chemistry, Prisoners. By Geffray Mynshull, of
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German. In one large volume 8vo. with Report on the Case of John Sharpe, who
8 plates. 15s.
was tried before the High Court of Justi.
Werner's Nomenclature of Colours ; ciary, at Edinburgh, upon the 14th of
with Additions, arranged so as to render it July, 1820, and following days; and be-
highly useful to the Arts and Sciences, fore the Circuit Court at Glasgow, upon
particularly Zoology, Botany, Chemistry, the 13th of April, 1821 ; framed with a
Mineralogy, and Morbid Anatomy; an- view to shew the Arguments on both sides
nexed to which are Examples, selected from of the Bar, and the Opinion of the Court,
well known objects in theAnimal,Vegetable, on the Point of Law which was agitated in
and Mineral Kingdoms; by Patrick Syme, that important Case. Taken in Short-
Flower-Painter, Edinburgh, &c.; hand- Hand by James Watson, Esq. Advocate.
somely printed in 8vo. ; the second edition. “ The Feelings excited by Departing
Worth ;” A Sermon preached in Dun.
Edinburgh Christian Instructor for June, fermline, May 27th, 1821, the Lord's Day
No. CXXXI.
immediately after the Interment of the
Memoirs of the Affairs of Scotland, from Rev. James Husband, D. D. Senior Mi.
the Restoration of King Charles II. A. D. nister of the First Associate Congregation
1660 ; by Sir George Mackenzie of Rose. there; by Henry Belfrage, Minister in
haugh, Knight; (Lord Advocate in the Falkirk. 'Is.
reigns of Charles II. and James II.) never A View of the Elementary Principles of
before published. The History of his own Education, founded on the Study of Man.
Times, by Sir George Mackenzie, was pro- By J. G. Spurzheim, M.D. 12mo. 7s. 6d.
mised for publication by the editors of his A Summary of the Powers and Duties
works in 1722, but was then withheld, as of a Justice of the Peace in Scotland, in
kias been supposed, from political consider. Alphabetical Order ; with Forms of Pro-
ations. The manuscript had long been lost ceedings, &c., comprising a short View of
sight of, and was believed to have been ir. the Criminal
Duty, and of the greater Part
recoverably lost; till the original, from of the Civil Duty, of Sheriffs and Magis.
which a very limited impression has now trates of Burghs ; by George Tait, Esq.
been printed, was accidentally rescued Advocate. The Third Edition. 8vo. 12s.
from destruction, by a person to whom it The History of Ancient Greece, from
had been sold as waste paper. In one vol. the earliest Times, till it became a Roman
4to. £2, 28. In No. III. our readers will Province ; by W. Robertson, Esq. Keeper
find a particular account of the MS. by of the Records of Scotland. 8vo. 9s.
Dr M'Crie.
An Inquiry into the Causes of the Infi.


356
Monthly List of New Publications.
[June,
delity of the Present Times ; by the Rev. Parishes, &c., are distinctly marked. The
John Ramsay, Minister of Ormiston. 8vo. printed references are also copious, contain-
Is. 6d.
ing all Closes, Courts, Public Buildings,
The Scottish Episcopal Magazine and Principal Inns and Hotels, Carriers, Mail
Review, No. VI. 35. 6d.
and Stage Coaches, &c. Price in Sheets,
Anster Fair, a Poem, in Six Cantos ; by uncoloured, 5s.
William Tennant. Fourth Edition. 7s. Cd. The Divine Authority of the Scriptures,
Reflections on the Death of Dr Gre confirmed by the Miracles of the Apostles,
gory, and on the Appointment of a Suc. a Sermon; by George Muirhead, D. D.
cessor to his Chair. 8vo. ls. Od..
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sor of Divinity in St Mary's College, $t A History of the Rencontre at Drum-
Andrews. 8vo. 10s. 6d.
clog, and Battle at Bothwell Bridge, in
Practical Observations on Cold and the month of January, 1679, with an Ac-
Warm Bathing, with an Account of all the count of what is correct, and what is ficti.
principal Watering-Places in Scotland and tious, in the “ Tales of My Landlord,"
England ; by James Jillar, M.D. 12mo. respecting these Engagements, and Reflec-
Reid's Leith and London Smack Direc- tions on Political Subjects ; by William
tory. 2s.
Aiton, Esq. Sheriff-Substitute, Hamilton.
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Projection. Size of the Engraving, 31 Flora Scotica, or a Description of Scot-
inches by 24; containing much Informa- tish Plants, arranged both according to the
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house is numbered, and the boundaries of the University of Glasgow. 8vo. 148.
MONTHLY REGISTER.
COMMERCIAL REPORT.-12th June, 1821.
Sugar.- Notwithstanding that there is but very few new sugars to shew, the market
continues in a languid and inactive state; the prices remain without alteration, and the
buyers evince no wish to purchase. The demand for refined for exportation continues
also very languid. The stock on hand is by no means considerable, as the refiners have
of late been working on a limited scale. No general reduction of prices can be stated,
though purchases have been made a shade lower. Brazil sugars continue to be offered
on very low terms, which, however, does not facilitate sales. From this time forward,
the supply of sugars from the colonies of the present crop will be considerable ; and,
therefore, there is little hope of any improvement in the market.
Cotton. Owing to the unfavourable accounts from Liverpool and Manchester, the
cotton market everywhere has been very heavy. The purchases, however, for some
days back have been considerable, and a brisker market is confidently anticipated. The
manufacturers everywhere are, we believe, in full activity.
Coffee. The market for coffee has of late been very much depressed. Prices have
lately declined considerably. The market continues very heavy ; but no farther reduc-
tion for some days has taken place. Jamaica's may be stated 2s. lower. St Domingo
is sold at 116s. 6d., and even at 115s. for good quality.
Corn. The weather for some time past has been unusually backward, and severe all
over the kingdom ; yet, notwithstanding, the crops in general look well, and the mar-
ket for grain may in general be stated to be on the decline. Wheat is abundant, and
sale dull. Oats are heavy at market ; but no reduction in price. Beans and peas with-
out any material alteration. Notwithstanding the decline in price in the London mar-
ket, considerable quantities remain undisposed of. In indigo the market continues
steady ; and an improvement is expected, notwithstanding the late arrivals. There are
few purchases of tobacco ; for some time past, what has been sold is chiefly for home
consumption. Spices remain without alteration in price, and few purchases making.
The tallow market is in a depressed state, and purchases made at lower rates. The
prices of tea remain at our quotations. Fruit continues in a very limited demand,
Geneva remains without alteration. Rum is uncommonly depressed, and may be
purchased ld. lower. At the present prices, the planter had better throw his molasses
into the sea. Brandy is rather looking up. The accounts from France represent the
late severe frosts to have done great damage to the vines. The fall in cattle has of late
been very considerable in every part of the country.


182.13
Register.-Commercial Report.
357
The manufacturers and labourers, however, are all in full employment, and, consi.
dering the low price of provisions, at good wages. The renewal of hostilitieſ on the
Spanish Main will tend to injure our trade to that quarter ; and the convulsions in Tur-
key must, for the moment, have a similar effect. The latter, however, cannot be to any
great extent. On the other hand, the fall of Lima, confidently anticipated, may give a
spring to trade for the moment, as far as connected with that quarter of the world. An
extension of trade within the limits of the East India Company's Charter is to take
place. The silk-trade of this country continues to increase greatly ; and, according to
the Marquis of Lansdowne's statement in the House of Lords the other day, exceeds
that of France. The latter consumes only two millions and half only of the raw ma
terial. Great Britain consumes annually two millions and an half, which, when manu.
factured, is raised to a value equal to ten millions.
EDINBURGH.-JUNE 6.
Wheat.
Barley.
Oats. Pease & Beans.
1st......34s.. Od. Ist, ..... 24s. Od. 1st....... 19s. Od. 1st,,...., 18s. Od.'
2d, ......32s. Od. 2d....... 22s. Od. 2d......178. Od. 2d.......165. Od.
3d,......288. Od. 3d,...... 198. Od. 3d, ...... 15s. Od. | 3d,...... 15s. Od.
Average of Wheat, £l : 11:10 9-12ths., per boll.
Tuesday, June 8.
Beef (174 oz. per lb.) 0s. 4£d. to 0s. 7. Quartern Loaf Os. 9d.to Os. Od
Mutton
Os. 16d. to Os. 70. Potatoes (28 lb.) Os. 8d. to
Os. Od
Veal
Os. 5d, to Os. 8d. Fresh Butter, per lb. ts. 3d. to Os. Od
Pork
Os. 5d. to Os. 6. Salt ditto, per stonė 18s. 8d. to Os. Od
Lamb, per quarter 38. Od. to 4s. 6d. Ditto, per lb.
ls. 2d. to ls. 3d
Tallow, per stone 78. 6d. to 9s. Od. | Eggs, per dozen Os. 8d. to Os. Od
HADDINGTON.-June.8.
Wheat.
Barley.
Oats.
Pease.
Beans.
1st, .....325. 6d. 1st, .....22s. 6d.
Ist, ...19s. 6d. 1st, .....18s. Od. 1st,.....178. Od.
2d.......31s. 6d.2d........21s. Od. 2d.......17s. Od. 2d,... .. 16s. Od. 2d.......15$. Od.
3d,......30s. 6d. 3d,... 19s. 6d. 3d,......15s. Od. | 3d,......14s. Od. | 3d,...... 138. Od.
Average, £1 : 11s. Od. 1-12th.
dverage Prices of Corn in England and Wales, from the Returns received in the Week
ended May 26th.
Wheat, 51s. Ido-Rye, 32s. Od.-Barley, 23s. 3d. --Oats, 178. 3d.-Beans, 29s. 5d. Pease, 30s. 1d.
Beer or Big, Os. Od.-Oatmeal, 18s. 3d.
.
.
F
$.
- to
.
.
London, Corn Exchange, June 4.
Liverpool, June 5.
S. d. 8. d.
$. d. S. d.
Wheat, red, new 36 to 46 Hog pease. . 27 to 29 Wheat, per 70 lb.
Amer. p. 196 lb.
Fine ditto. . 48 to 52 Maple • 29 to 31 ||Eng. Old 8 0 to 8 8 Sweet, U.S. - 0 to - 0
Superfine ditto 53 to 55 while . 30 to 31 Foreign
--Do. in bond 21 0 to 22
Ditto, old. - to - Ditto, boilers, 37 to 53 Waterford 7 5 to 7 6 Sour do.. 30 0 to 32 O
White, new 40 to 46 New ditto, - to - Limerick.75 to 6 Oatmeal, per 240 lb.
Fine ditto 48 to 56 SmallBeans, new 30 to 34 Drogheda ? 3 to 7 6 English 24 0 to 25 0
Superfine ditto 60 to 61 Ditto, old .
Đublin 7 0 to 7 2 Scotch .. 20 0 to 23 0
Ditto, old.
Tick, new.
28 Scotch 7 9 to 8 3 Irish ... 19 0 to 92 0
Foreign, new .
- to
Ditto, old
Irish Old .7 2 to 7 4 Bran, p. 24 lb. 1 0 to 1 1
Rye
97 to 30 Foreign .
to Bonded ..4 0 to 5 0
Fine ditto, - to
Feed oats.
Butter, Beef, fc.
14 to 18 Barley, per 60 lbs.
Barley
20 to 22 Fine.
19 to 20 Eng. 3 8 to 3 10 Butter,p.cwt. 8. d. s. d.
Fine, new.
23 to 24 Poland ditto 16 to 19 Scotch ... 2 to 3 6 Belfast, new. 92 0 to 94 0
Superfine 24 to 25 Fine. • 20 to 21 Irish
.. 2 10 to 3. O Newry
90 O to 91 0
Malt
12 to 52 Potatoe ditto 20 to 22 Oats, per 15 lb.
Waterford . 94 0 to 95 O
Fine
. 54 to 56 Fine. . 23 to 25 Eng. pota. 2 6 to 2 8 Cork,pic. 20, 92 0 to 93 0
Irish do.. 2 7 to 2 8
3d dry 80 0 to.
Scotch do. 2 7 to 2 8 Beef, p. tierce.
Sceds, fc.
Malt per b.
- Mess 110 0 to 115 0
- Fine . .8 6 to 8 6 – per bil. 65 0 to 70 0
$. d.
8. Beans, per qr.
Pork, p. brl.
Must. Brown, 7 to 12 0 Hempseed .
English.31 0 to 34 0 Mess 58 0 to 66
-White ... 5 to 8 0 Linseed, crush. 44 to 48 Irish 31 0 to 33 0 Middl. 54 0 to 55 0
Tares, new,. 36 to 42 o New, for Seed – to Rapeseed, p. 1. £32 to 33 Bacon, p. cwt.
Turnips, bsh. 20 to 24 0 Ryegrass, . . 16 to 22 Pease,grey26 0 to 28 Short mids. 43 0 to 44 0
-Red & green-to-Clover, red cwt. 54 to 64White : 38 0 to 14 0 Sides. 38 0 to 10 0
-Yellow,
-to-0-White 66 to 108 Flour, English, Hams, dry, 50 0 to 56 O
Caraway, ewt. 64 to 72 0 Coriander .. 8 to 14 p.2401b.fine36 0 to 58 0 Green 33 0 to 35 0
Canary, qr. 42 to 18 0 Trefoil ... 12 to 26 Irish 35 0 to 37 6 Lard,rd.p.c. 49 0 to 52 0
Rape Seed, per last, £30 to £32.
VOL. IX.
2 Y
.
.
.


358
Register.-Commercial Report.
[Jane,
LONDON.
56
68
60
65
77
90
108
22s 6d
90
129
120
141
Is 10d 3s 4d
3 0 5 6
1 8
£30
35
£60
40
.
PRICES CURRENT June 9.
SUGAR, Masc.
LEITH. GLASGOW. LIVERPOOL.
B. P. Dry Brown, .cwt. 59 to 65 56
60 56
58
Mid. good, and fine mid. 76
86 60
71 59
69
Fine and very fine,
80
86
70
80
Refined Doub. Loaves,
130
145
Powder ditto,
106
110
Single ditto,
102
106
Small Lumps,
94
98
Large ditto,
91
91
Crushed Lumps,
56
MOLASSES, British, cwt.
95 22
24 28
COFFEE, Jamaica, . cwt.
Ord. good, and fine ord. 116
124 114 120 108
118
Mid. good, and fine mid. 124
138 121
134 120
128
Dutch Triage and very ord.
95
114
Ord. good, and fine ord. 120
135
115
121
Mid. good, and fine mid. 135 110
122
128
St Domingo,
122
126
110 113
Pimento (in Bond,)
81
89 7+
71
8
SPIRITS,
Jam. Rum, 16 O. P. gall. 2s 10d 35 od 2s 2d 2s 3d Is 9d 1s 110
Brandy,
4 0
Genera,
1 10
0
Grain Whisky,
6 6 6 8
WINES,
Claret, Ist Growths, hhd. 45
55
Portugal Red, pipe. 35
46
Spanish White, butt. 31
55
Teneriffe,
pipe. 30
32
Madeira,
55
65
LOGWOOD, Jam. ton.
10 8
15 8 5
Honduras,
8
8 0 8 10
Campeachy,
8
8 15 9
FUSTIC, Jamaica,
8
10 7 0 6 6
Cuba,
9
11
5 8 10 9 0
INDIGO, Caraccas fine, lb. 9s 6d lls 6d
6
8 0
TIMBER, Amer. Pine, foot. 1 6 18
Ditto Oak,
3 0 3 4
Christiansand (dut. paid.) 2
Honduras Mahogany,
1 1 8
1 0 1 4
St Domingo, ditto,
1 3 1 9
TAR, American, brl.
16
Archangel,
18
PITCH, Foreign,
cwt.
10
TALLOW, Rus. Yel. Cand. 51 51
Home melted,
54
HEMP, Riga Rhine, ton. 44
Petersburgh, Clean,
39
10
FLAX,
Riga Thies. & Druj. Rak. 55
Duteh,
50
90
Irish,
41
46
MATS, Archangel, 100. 75
80
BRISTLES,
Petersburgh Firsts, cwt.
13 10
14
ASHES, Peters. Pearl,
40
Montreal, ditto,
11
46 43
37
6
OIL, Whale,
£94
26
Cod.
81s (p. brl.),
TOBACCO, Virgin. fine, Ib. 6
71 0 51 08
Middling
64
7 0 43 0 5
Inferior,
4
49 0 2 0 3
COTTONS, Bowed Georg.
D 94 117 0 8 0 101
Sea Island, fine,
1 8 2 0 1 5 1 8
Good,
1 69 8
1 2 1 1
Middling,
16
1 2
Demerara and Berbice,
1 0 1 9 0 11 1 2
West India,
0 10 0 11 0 9
O 10
Pernambuco,
1 1 1 2 1 03 1 11
Maranham,
1 0 1 1 10 1 03
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.
£42
38 6
£57
65
40
42
42
22 10
!!! 1911 1910 - 1
Pot,
42 6
43
tun.
22
06d
D 22
0
09
1 2
0 103
1 9
0 11
1 1
1 1
11
1
ALPHABETICAL List of EngLISH BANKRUPTCies, announced between the 20th
of April and the 20th of May, 1821, extracted from the London Gazette.
Adams, J. Stainford, corn merchant.
Blunsum, W. B. Stamford, grocer.
Allison, G. Bishop Wearinouth, rope maker. Bosher, T. of Slate End, near Wallingford, dealer
Ambrose, W. Clapton, carpenter.
in timber.
Avety, J. Barnstaple, shopkeeper.
Bruton, G. N. Devizes, coachmaker.
Bailey, W. H. Cheltenham, banker.
Buttery, S. West Stockwith, Nottinghamshire,
Barnet, J. junior, West-street, West Smithfield, mraltster.
victualler
Cameron, J. Suckley, Worcester, farmer.
Baverstock, R. Brompton, plumber.
Clarke, F. Gainsborough, draper.
Beardmore, E. Newcastle under Lyme, shoema Collin, S. Woodlesford, York, blacksmith.
ker.
Coney, T. Sculthorpe, Norfolk, iniller.
Blakey, J. R. Liverpool, vinegar maker and mer. Copland, S. junior, Blackheath, victualler.
chant.
Corri, N. Golden-square, dealer in music, &e.


1821.3
Register.-Commercial Report.
359
Crumble, G. and Carr, J. York, tobacco manu Menke, D. T. Primrose-street, Bishopsgate-street,
facturers.
Without, merchant.
Curwen, J. Great East Cheap, tea-broker. Morgan, J. Stroud, linen-draper.
Dawson, R. Norwich, linen-draper.
Mulligan, T. Bath, silk-merchant.
Dean, J. Bingley, York, builder.
Nathan, J. Westbury-upon-Trim, music-seller,
Demayne, W. Otvidley, York, worsted spinner. &c.
Devereux, W. H. Calais, merchant.
Payne, T. and D. Cateaton-street, warehousemen.
Dicken, J. Shrewsbury, upholsterer.
Phillips, B. Tong, Salop, butcher.
Driver, J. and M. Bristol, cabinet-makers. Phillips, J. B. Bartlett's Buildings, jeweller.
Essex, M. of Coventry, and Wood-street, Cheap Pound, C. and W. H. Cloth Fair, woollen-drapers.
side, silk manufacturer.
Richards, W. Shoreditch, soap-maker.
Fate, W. late of Settle, Yorkshire, cabinet-maker. Ryder, J. and J. New Malton, merchants.
Fowler, G. Collumpton, Devon, hosier.
Richardson, G. Horncastle, grocer.
Franke, R. senior, Newark upon Trent, miller. Roberts, H. Holywell, Flintshire, grocer.
French, R.Wimpole, Cambridgeshire, shopkeeper. Roe, E. Chadkirk, within Romily, Chester, calico-
Gilbert, J. Church-street, Mile End, New Town, printer.
victualler.
Roe, W. Lower, East Smithfield, wheelwright.
Glover, B. late of Bread-street, but now of Wat- Sealey, H. W. Stamford, upholsterer.
king street, Manchester, warehouseman. Shepherd, J. jun. Pirton, and Houghton, R. Bad-
Goodair, J. late of Chorley, Lancaster, cotton sey, Worcester, dealers.
spinner.
Smart, W. Bishopsgate-street, carpenter.
Gorton, J. Henry-street, Hampstead Road, smith. Smith, J. Patrington, in Holderness, linen-draper.
Greenwood, T. junior, Preston, Lancaster, up Spencer, W. Bristol, corn-factor.
holsterer.
Stodart, R. and M. Strand, booksellers.
Hall, H. and Hall, J. Upper Thames-street, and Tate, J. Liverpool, provision merchant.
Wolverhampton, iron merchants.
Thomas, H. W. Wolverhampton, upholsterer.
Hawkim, J. Farncombe, Surrey, crape-manufac- Thompson, H. Sulcoates, Yorkshire, merchant.
turer.
Turner, D. Whitechapel Road, timber merchant.
Hannington, S. Putney, ironmonger.
Turner, S. Stock Exchange, Capel Court, stock-
Hebdin, w. Leeds, Hebdin, A. 0. Parliament broker.
street, and Brown, J. senior, Leeds, merchants. Vanghan, E. Monythusloyne, Monmouthshire,
Henshaw, J. Glocester-place, Portman Square, apothecary and coal merchant.
bookseller.
Waller, M. late of Stone, Staffordshire, victualler.
Hulkes, T. E. Rochester, miller.
Wall, R. Sutton-street, Soho, carpenter.
Hunton, G. Cateaton-street, linen and woollen Walls, T. Webber-street, and Lambeth Marsh,
factory warehouseman.
hat-manufacturers.
Jerry, J. Kirkton, Suffolk, maltster.
Ward, J. late of Banbury, brewer.
Kelsey, B. Nuneaton, innkeeper.
Watmough, J. Orford, Lincolnshire, farmer.
Killick,
w. Cheam, Surrey, coal-merchant. Welsh, J. High Holborn, master mariner.
King, W. Worcester, draper.
Westaway, J. Exeter, watchmaker.
Kyffen, J. Lime House Hole, dealer.
Wetton, J. James. W. and Payne, jun. Wood-
Laghton, J. late of Arbourn Square Commercial street, and of Coventry and Nuneaton, ribbon-
Road, mariner.
manufacturers.
Lawledge, M. Harley-street, Cavendish Square, Wharton, R. and H. Little Crosby, Lancaster,
upholsterer.
joiners.
Lawton, R. Bottoms Within Stayley, Cheshire, Wilkinson, G. York, linen-draper.
clothier.
Williains, L. W. Fleet-street, wine-merchant.
Lee, J. Sunderland, grocer.
Wilmot, D. Prince's-street, Rotherhithe, mariner.
Lyo J. Marsham-street, Westminster, cooper. Wolferstan, J. Chichester, ironmonger
Lubbren, F. M. Busy Cottage, Northumberland, Wood, T. Lake Loch, Yorkshire, maltster.
iron-founder.
Woodcock, C. Norwich, coachmaker
Mayers, M. Upper Fountain-place, City Road, Young, J. jun. Romsey, upholsterer.
merchant
ALPHABETICAL List of Scotch BANKRUPTCIes, announced between the 1st and
31st May, 1821, extracted from the Edinburgh Gazette.
Burrell, Robert, saddler, Cupar Fife.
Hamilton, John, wright and builder in Lanark ;
Campbell, Macarthur Duncan, merchant, book a dividend 27th April.
seller, and stationer, Glasgow.
Hepburn, James, late farmer in Bearford, and
Macdougal, Duncan, merchant, Glasgow.
líme-burner in Saltoun, East Lothian; a divi.
Sinclair, William, merchant, Lerwick.
dend 5th May.
Smart, John, merchant and insurance-broker, Brown, Williain, late of Longbedholm, cattle-
Leith.
dealer; a dividend 30th June.
Tod, John, baker and corn-merchant, Dundee. Macfarlane, T. and A. cotton-spinners in Bridge-
Walker, John, grocer, Lochwinnoch.
ton, near Glasgow; a final dividend 13th July.
Williamson, Thomas, merchant, Thornhill Martinsons and Somerville, distillers at Gellay-
banks, near Perth; a dividend 27th June.
DIVIDENDS.
Milne, Margaret, haberdasher and merchant,
Adie, Robert, and M'Queen, George, in Campany, Stonehaven; a final dividend 20th June.
woollen manufacturers at Dallirie, near Crieff ; Monteath, John, hardware merchant, Stirling; a
a dividend 4th June.
dividend 27th June.
Cassels, W. G. and Cassels, Robert, late merchants,
Murray, Wm. tenant in Keithick ; a final divideud
Leith ; a dividend 12th June to the postponed 15th June.
creditors.
Page, G. and D. and Co. haberdashers, South
Cheyne, Stuart, bookseller, Edinburgh; a final Bridge, Edinburgh; a dividend 25th June.
dividend 25th June.
Rodger, James, merehant, Greenock; a dividend
Coates, John, manufacturer, Glasgow; a dividend 10th June.
29th May.
Ross, Thomas, merchant, Montrose; a dividend
Easton, John, formerly distiller at Don Bridge,
95th July.
near Aberdeen; a final dividend 20 July. Scott, Burt, and Co. tanners, Kilconquhar; a final
Forrester, Anderson, and Jarvie, hardware-mer dividend 27th June.
chants, Glasgow; a dividend 3d July.


360
[June,
Register...Commercial Report.
Weekly Price of Stocks, from 20 to 238 May, 1821.
2d.
9th
16th.
23d.
31
911
1098
230$
42 pr.
42 pr.
43 pr.
46 pr.
Bank stock,
2231 1225
226
228
3 per cent. reduced,
724 973)
1
23 73
745
3 per cent. consols,
721
74 3 748 75
3 per cent. consols,
81! 823 83] 83
4 per cent. consols,...on
891 913
92]
5 per cent. Davy ann....
1084
109
110
Imperial 3 per cent. ann.
701 717 721
723
India stock,
1232 234
bonds,maar
Exchequer bills,
5 pr.
pr. 3 pr. 3 pr.
Consols for acc. ancama
721 744 745 755
Amer. 3 per centro
71
711
711
French 5 per cents.com.co
82fr. 25c. 83fr. 20c. 82fr. 25c. 84fr. 15c,
Course of Exchange, Junc 8.—Amsterdam, 12: 16. C. F. Ditto at sight, 12 : 13.
Rotterdam, 12:17. Antwerp, 12:11. Hamburgh, 38: 9. Altona, 38 : 10. Paris, 3
d. sight, 25 : 80. Ditto 26 : 15. Bourdeaux, 26: 15. Frankfort on the Maine, 159.
Petersburgh, 9: 3 U. Vienna, 10:21 Ef. flo. Trieste, 10:21 Ef. fo. Madrid, 36.
Cadiz, 354 Bilboa, 355. Barcelona, 35. Seville, 35ļ. Gibraltar, 304. Leghorn
Lis-
47. Genoa, 44. Venice, 27 : 60. Malta, 45. Naples, 40. Palermo, 116.
bon, 494. Oporto, 494. Rio Janeiro, 49. Bahia, 59. Dublin, 9 per cent.
Cork, 81 per cent.
Prices of Gold and Silver, per oz.--Foreign gold, in bars, £3: 17 : 104d. New
Dollars, Os. Od. Silver in bars, stand. 4s. 10d.
714
METEOROLOGICAL TABLE, extracted from the Register kept at Edinburgh, in the
Observatory, Calton-hill.
N.B.-The Observations are made twice every day, at nine o'clock, forenoon, and four o'clock, after.
noon.-The second Observation in the afternoon, in the first column, is taken by the Register
Thermometer.
Attach.
Ther. Barom. Ther. Wind.
Attach.
Ther. Barom. Ther. Wind.
May 1
May 17{ A. 15
N.W. hail aftern.
18
3
1{
20
s.
S.
23
M.32 29.765 M.56w.
Clear and
{
A. 49
.575 A. 56)
warm.
M.372.755 M.56
Cble.
Foggy, with
A. 45 .535 A.56)
rain.
M.30 .516 M.571
N.E.
Fair, but
A. 51 .516 A.52
dull.
M.37
.478 M.52
Fair foren.
Cble,
A. 46 .239 A. 54 ) rain aftern.
M.39 .188 M.58)
Fair day,
5{ A. 53 28.999 A.54) rain night.
M.36 .999 M.54
Dull foren.
6{
S.W.
A. 49 29.170 A. 54) sun aftern.
M.56 .193 M.52
Fair foren.
7{
A. 50 .999 A. 54
rain aftern.
M.36
.445 M.53 Dull, fair,
Cble.
8{
A. 47 .564 A. 54
M.32
Sunsh. with
9
A. 47 .690 A. 51
showers hail.
.805 M.50)
N.W.
Ditto, snow
A. 47 .627 A, 54s on hills.
M.38 .589 M.54) Foren. suns.
11{
N.W.
A. 51 .465 A. 54
rain aftern.
M.35 .411 M.54) Sunshine,
A. 48 .142 A. 55
with hail.
M.35 .102 M.52
Fair, with
A. 49
S.E.
.102 A. 54 ) sunshine.
M.30 .102 M.48
Sunsh. fore.
14.
S.E.
A. 48 .101 A. 49
Thun. after.
M.31 128.994 M.49
15
S.E.
Heavy rain f.
A. 43 29.116|A. 51
fair aftern.
.337 M.51
N.W. Sunshine.
A. 45
.539/A.53
M.29 29.773 M.52
Fore. sunsh.
.643 A. 52
M.32 .910 M.50
Showers,
Cble.
A. 49 .868 A. 54
with thund.
M.32
19
.975 M.47
Fair foren.
N.E.
A. 49 .999 A. 17
rain aftern.
M.28 .999 M.54
E.
Fair, with
A. 16 30.212A, 53
sunshine.
M.33 29.999 M.55
Ditta, but
21
E.
A. 46 .950 A. 52
very cold.
29 M.303 .960 M.52
Fair, dull,
A. 48 .825 A. 48
E.
& very cold.
M.29 .790/M.51
Dull, with
Cble.
A. 44 .780 A. 49
hail showers.
24
M.27 .880 M.52
Cble.
Fair, with
A. 44 .812 A.53
sunshine.
M.32 .567 M.51
Frost morn
N.
A. 46 .526 A. 41 s
hail sh. day.
.575 M.47
M.243
Snow mor.
26
A. 11 .368 A. 46
hail foren.
.446 M.47
F.heav, hail,
N.
A. 44 707 A. 47
af.heav.rain.
-765 M.46
Rain morb.
N.
A. 13 .789A, 49
hail sh. day.
M.32 .90-1 M.53
Dull, fair,
29
N.
A. 48 .980 A.51
& very cold.
.999 M.56
Fair, with
E.
A. 47 .997 A.51)
suns, & cold.
M.34 50.102 M.51
31
E. Ditto.
A. 45 29.995 A. 53 )
very cold,
.592 M.47 N.w.
25
10 / M.30
N.
12{
27% M.281
28 M.52
N.W.
134
30 N.313
16 M.30
Average of Rain, 1.816 inches.
7


1821.]
Appointments, Promotions, Sc.
361
APPOINTMENTS, PROMOTIONS, &c.
3d May.
19th Apr.
p. 99 F.
2 L. Gds. Cornet and Sub-Lieut. Reid, to be
Lieut. vice Grieve, superseded,
20th Mar. 1821
Lord F. Conyngham, Cornet and
Sub-Lieut.
230 Apr.
6 Dr. G. Gen. flon. R. Taylor, from 5 Dr. G.
Col. vice Earl of Carhampton,
dead,
goth do.
7
Cape Corps, Capt. vice Fawcett, h:
p. 24 Dr. (rec. diff.)
9 Dr. Hon. G. Vaughan, Cornet by purch.
vice Jones, ret.
10th do.
19
Lieut. Georges, Capt. do. vice Maj.
Skelton, ret.
3d do.
Cornet Hall, Lieut. do.
do.
W.J. T. Fagg, Cornet, do. do.
5 F. Lt. Welsh, Capt. vice Clarke, dead,
Ensign Clay, Lieut.
do.
20 Lt. Copson, from 21 F. Ens. do.
13 Lt. Waterman, Capt. by purch. vice
Maj. Light, ret.
3d May.
Ensign Tinling, Lieut. do.
do.
Gent. Cadet, H. King, Ens. do. vice
O'Ryan, ret.
2d do.
J. Jones, Ensign, do. vice Tinling,
3d do.
Gent. Cadet W. M. Brownrigg, fm.
R. Mil. Coll. Ens. vice Clayton,
36 F.
10th do.
16 Lieut. Walton, Capt. vice Thurlow,
dead,
26th Apr.
Ens. W. G. Earl of Erroll, from 85
F. Lieut.
3d May.
21
Beet, 2d Lt. vice Copson, 5 F.
Capt. Dennie, Maj. by purch. vice
Lieut.-Col. Shaw, ret.
do.
Lieut. Bryne, Capt. do.
do.
Ens. Corfield, Lieut. do.
do.
Gent. Cadet L. C. l'isc. Falkland,
from R. Mill. Coll. by purch. do.
26 Bt. Maj. C. S. Campbell, Maj, vice
Farquharson, dead,
10th May.
Lieut. Dunn, Capt.
do.
Ens. Fraser, Lieut.
do.
W. E. Hay, Ens.
do.
33 Lt. Col. Moffatt, from 1 Ceyl. R. Lt.
Col. vice Pelly, h. p. 56 €. 3d do.
36 Ens. Clayton, from i3 F. Ens. vice
M'Cabe,
10th do.
Ens. M'Cabe, Qua. Mast. vice Kemp,
dead,
do.
Bt. Maj. Chambers, Maj. by purch.
vice Bt. Lt. Col. Frend, ret. 3d do.
Lieut. O'Reilly, Capt. do. do.
Ens. Caldwell, Lieut. do.
do.
G. Todd, Ens. do.
do.
5C Lieut. Gun, Capt. vice Barry, dead,
3d do.
Ens. Palmer, Lieut.
do.
73 Lieut. Auber, from h. p. 67 F. vice
Campbell, dead,
26th Apr.
85 H. M. Gordon, Ens. vice Lord Erroll,
3d May.
2 W. I. R. Lieut. Fox, from h. p. 99 F. Paym.
vice Dely, res.
do.
i Ceyl. R. Lieut. Col. Sullivan, from h. p. 56 F.
Lieut. Col. vice Moffatt, 33 F. do.
Cape C. Cav. Capt. De Visme, from h. p. 21 Dr.
Capt. (pay diff.) vice C. À. Somer-
set, 7 Dr. G.
do,
Miscellaneous.
Lt. Col. Bell, h. p. to be Dep. Qua.
Mast. Gen. at Cape of Good Hope,
vice Warre, res. 26th Apr. 1821
T. Allan, Hosp. Assist. vice Moon,
dead,
do.
Hosp. Assist. R. Moir, from h. p.
Hosp. Assist. vice Bruce, cancelled,
3d do.
Rev. J. S. Pering, Chaplain to the
Forces.
Exchanges.
Lieut. Col. Napier, from 44 F. with Bt. Col. Mor-
rison, h. p. Sicil. Regt.
Bt. Major Callandar, from 91 F. with Capt. Mann,
h. p. 98 F.
Wilson, from 28 F. rec. diff. with Capt.
Kidd, h. p. 6) F.
Capt. Orr, from 21 F. with Capt. Jack, h. p. W.
1. Rang.
Taylor, from 37 F. with Capt. Thoreau,
h. p. 40'F.
Patterson, from 50 F. with Capt. Anderson,
h. p. York Chass.
Gunning, from 69 F. rec. diff. with Capt.
Williams, h. p. 25 Dr.
Suasso, from 55 F. with Capt. Daniell, h.
Meech, from 82 F. with Capt. Martin, h. p.
62 F.
Lieut. O'Keefe, from 2 F. with Lieut. Windus, 35
F.
Gordon, from 81 F. rec. diff. with Lieut.
Norman, h. p. 34 F.
Wilkins, from 87 F. with Lieut. Cox, h. p.
Cornet Richardson, from 4 Dr. G. with Cornet De
Lisle, 4 Dr.
2d Lieut. Bruce, from 21 F. with Ensign Bayley,
h. p. 1 Gar. Bn.
Ensign Bonbury, from 94 F. with Ensign Mallet,
b. p. 37 F.
Paym. Goddard, from 55 F. with Capt. Fisher, h.
p. 15 F.
Staff Surg. Macleod, with Staff Surg. M‘Diarmid,
h. p.
Roy, with Staff Surg. Clarkc, h. p.
Hosp. Assist. M'Cabe, with Hosp. Assist. Watson,
h. p.
Resignations and Retirements.
Lieut. Col. Shaw, 22 F.
Frend, 49 F.
Major Skelton, 19 Dr.
Light, 13 F.
Cornet Jones, 9 Dr.
Ensign O'Ryan, 13 F.
Superseded.
Lieut. Grieve, 2 Life Gds.
Appointment Cancelled
Hosp. Assist. A. Bruce, from h. p.
Deaths.
19th Apr.
prom. 16 F.
Royal Artillery.
2d Capt. Molesworth, from h.
P.
2d
Capt. vice Curtis, h. p.
21st Apr. 1821.
Ist Lieut. Griffin, from h. p. 1st Lt.
7th do.
2d Lieut. Miller, do.
do.
Edridge, from h. p. 2d Lt. -
do.
Lieut. Gen. Read, late of 1 Life Gds. at Rome,
20th Apr. 1821.
Major Gen. Bateman, East India Comp. Service.
Lieut. Col. Fetherstonhaugh, h. p. 16 F.
Inglis, h. p. 126 E. 27th Mar. 1821.
Major Farquharson, 26 F. Edinburgh,
1st May, 1821.
Fetherston, 47 F. Fort George Barracks,
Bombay,
1 5th Nov. 18:0,
Howard, 70 F. London. 19th May, 1821.
Taylor, h. p. 38 F. Summerset, near Par.
sonstown, Ireland,
6th Feb. 1821.
Donzel, h. p. Meuron's Regt. 2d Mar. 1821,


862
Appointments and Promotions, fc.
(June,
Capt. Rynd, late Invalids, Brecknock,
Capt. Hill, h. p. York Fuz.
31st Mar. 1821.
Vogelly, h. p. Hompesch's Rif.
Rham, h. p. Meuron's Regt. 8th do. Cornet Clayton, h. p. Queen's Amer. Ra. New
Lieut. De L'Etang, 17 Dr. Poorbunder, on his Brunswick.
Ist Dec. 1819.
way to Bombay,
6th Oct. 18:0. Ensign Norcott, 89 F. Kyater, Madras.
M‘Dougali, 30 F. Secunderabad, Madras,
15th Oct. 1820.
26th Aug. 4520.
Gordon, h. p. 60 F. 9th Mar. 1821.
Buckeride, Roy. Eng. 12th Apr. 1821.
Smith, h. p. 79 F.
Daniel Green, late Invalids, Portsinouth,
Barber, h.p. 101 F. Boltington, near Mac-
27th Feb. 1821. clesfield,
220 Apr. 1821.
Bowsar, of late 12 V. Bn. 15th do. Qr. Mast. Kemp, 36 F. Zante, 2d Jan. 1821.
Farr, h. p. 28 F.
5th Dec, 1820.
Harper, 49 F. Ballinasloe, 7th May, 1821.
Long, h. p. 58 F.
11th Oct. 1820.
Murray, h. P. Manx F. 1. 230 July, 1820.
Vandyke, h. p. Waggon Train, France.
17th Mar. 1821.
BIRTHS, MARRIAGES, AND DEATHS.
BIRTHS.
21. At Montpelier Park, Burrowmuirhead, the
Dec. 16, 1820. At Calcutta, at the house of the lady of R. Scott, Esq. of a daughter.
Rev. Mr Thomson, the lady of A. F. Ramsay, Mrs Brewster, Dublin Street, of a son.
Esq. surgeon in the Honourable Company's ser At Charlotte Square, the lady of Major-Ge-
vice, of a daughter.
neral Balfour of Balbirnie, of a son.
Mar. 16, 1821. At Kingston, Jamaica, the lady 25. At Charlotte Square, Mrs Alexander Wood,
of the Hon. William Shand, of a son.
of a son.
25. At Madeira, the lady of Robert Wallas, Mrs Peter Hewat, Dundas Street, of a son.
Esq. of a son.
27. At Young Street, Charlotte Square, Mrs
April 1. On board the Lord Hungerford, at sea, John Brougham, of a son.
the lady of Collin Campbell, Esq. surgeon of the Mrs Watson, Melville Street, of a son.
horse brigade on the Bengal establishinent, of a 30. At South Castle Street, Mrs Gibson, of a son.
daughter.
June 1. At 20, Hill Street, Mrs Bell, of a son.
20. At Falkirk, the lady of Captain Fulton, R. 3. At Lady Seaforth's, Inveresk-house, the Hon.
N. of a son.
Mrs Stewart Mackenzie of Seaforth, of a son.
21. At Petersburgh, Sultana Kattegherry of a
daughter.
- At Rozene, near Ayr, the lady of Alexander
MARRIAGES.
W. Hamilton, Esq. of a daughter.
Nov. 20, 1820. At Madras, Major George Cadell,
23. At Aix, the lady of James Skene, Esq. of 12th native infantry, Assistant-Adjutant General,
Rubieslaw, of a daughter.
to Margaret, second daughter of William Molle,
25. At Kilravock Castle, the lady of Hugh Esq. of Mains, W. S.
Rose, Esq. of Kilravock, of a daughter.
March 17, 1821. At St Vincent's, Lietenant Cox,
- At Nenagh, Ireland, the lady of James of the 2'd light dragoons, to Magdalene, second
Dempster, Esq. M.D. of a daughter.
daughter of Captain Sutherland of Montrose.
28. At Gartmore-house, Mrs Cunningham Gra April 16. At Bo'ness, James Cowan, Esq. M. D.
an, of a daughter.
to Margaret, second daughter of the late Andrew
29. The lady of R. W. Brandling, Esq. of Low Tod, Esq. Bo'ness.
Gosforth, of a son.
23. At Kerse, Mr James Girdwood, surgeon,
- At Edinburgh, the lady of Lieutenant-Colo Falkirk, to Jane, fifth daughter of Mr John
nel Wylly, fusiliers, of a son.
Borthwick.
May 2. At Springfield, the lady of James Inver Christopher Capell, Esq. of Prestbury, near
arity, Esq. of a son.
Cheltenham, to Elizabeth, daughter of the late Sir
3. At Lochnaw Castle, the lady of Sir Andrew William Forbes of Craigievar.
Agnew, Bart. of a son.
- At St George's Church, Hanover Square,
4. At Stirling, Mrs Robert Balfout, R. N. of a London, the Earl of Aylesford, to Lady Augusta
Sophia Greville, sister to the Earl of Warwick.
5. At the Grove, Mrs Bonar, of a daughter. 25. At St Paul's, Covent Garden, London, Sir
7. At Leith, Mrs Dr Macaulay, of a son. William Dick, Bart. to Caroline, relict of Lieute-
- At Kirkmay-house, the lady of Robert In nant-Colonel Alexander Fraser, late of the 76th
glis, Esq. of Kirkmay, of a son.
regiment of foot.
- At Hedge Grove, near Keswick, Cumber 27. At Old Aberdeen, Arthur Nicholson, Esq.
land, Mrs Forbes of Culloden, of a son.
of Lochend, to Eliza Jane, eldest daughter of the
& At Melrose, Mrs David Spence, of a daugh- Rev. Dr. Jack, Principal of the University and
ter
King's College.
- At Friern Hatch, Middlesex, the lady of 28. At the Manse of Cromarty, Dr George M°
Henry St George Tucker, Esq. of a daughter. Donald, to Margaret Crawford, third daughter of
12.' At Ruchill, the lady of Duncan Campbell, the Rev. Robert Smith, minister of the gospel,
Esq. of Barraldine, of a daughter.
Cromarty:
13. At Great King Street, Mrs Craig, of a son. 30. At Glenormiston, James Marjoribanks, Esq.
At Dublin, the lady of Lieutenant-Colonel Crosshall, Berwickshire, to Agnes, daughter of
Lindsay, C. B.commanding the 78th Highlanders, the late William Hunter, Esq. of Glenormiston.
of a daughter.
- At Kilmarnock, James Ralston, Esq. of
- Mrs Dow, Duke Street, of a son.
Towerhill, to Miss Lilias Smith of Bankend.
15. The lady of Alexander Fraser, Esq. of - At Edinburgh, Mr George Wilson, (one of
Thavies Inn, of a son.
the partuers of Messrs John Wright and Co. clo-
16. At Craigleith-house, Mrs William Fleming, thiers,) to Mary, second daughter of Mr John
of a daughter.
Fleming, builder, Edinburgh.
18. Ai Bargaly, the lady of John Mackie, Esq. At Scarborough, Archibald Gibson, Esq.
of a son.
merchant in Edinburgh, to Mrs Macghie, widow
19. At her father's (General Sir Hew Dalrym of the deceased Thomas Macghie of Bridgen Place,
ple) house, in Hertfordshire, the lady of Captain in the county of Kent, Esq.
Dacres, R. N. of a daughter.
James Grierson, Esq. surgeon, in the service
- At Armagh, Ireland, Mrs W. C. Clarke, of a of the Honourable East India Company, to Mar.
still-born child.
garet, youngest daughter of Mr Archibald Richard-
21. At No. 8, Union Street, Mrs Peter Scott, of son, Sherif Brae, Leith.
a son.
At Hawthornbank, the Reverend James
22. At Williamfield, ncar Stirling, Mrs Cap- Trail, minister of the Episcopal Chapel, Hadding-
lain Forrester of Craigannet, of a son.
ton, to Margaret, eldest daughter of Robert Veteh,
- Mrs Renny, Castle Street, of a daughter. Esq. of Hawthorobank.
on.


1921.]
Register.-Marriages and Deaths.
363
30. At Edinburgh, the Rev. Abraham Home, 20. At Rome, Lieutenant-General Read, of
minister of Greenlaw, to Susan, eldest daughter of Crowood, Wiltshire, late of his Majesty's first re-
the late Patrick Anderson, Esq. W. S.
giment of Life Guards. His death was occasion-
May 2. At Linlithgow, the Rev. John Ramsayed by poison, administered by a Venetian servant,
of Dunkinfield, Cheshire, to Mary, eldest daugh whom he had hired at Paris, and who was after-
ter of the late Mr Alexander Lang, merchant, wards found to have been seven years in the gal.
Linlithgow.
leys.
- At No. 17, St Andrew's Square, Arthur 21. At Aberdeen, Mr Alexander Leith Ross, on-
Mower, Esq. M. D. Emmanuel College, Cam- ly son of the late Rev. Dr James Ross, senior mi-
bridge, to Anne, only daughter of the late William nister of Aberdeen.
Steuart, Esq. advocate.
23. At Leith Walk, Mr James MacGhie of the
3. At Bethyhill Cottage, Lieut. H. B. Macken Excise, aged 78.
zie, Strathy, to Miss Jessie Mackay.
24. At his house in Dundas Street, after a short
4. At Torboll, William Murray, Esq. of Rose- illness, James Easton, Esq. W.S.
mount, banker in Tain, to Esther, second daugh 25. At South Coats, near Edinburgh, Mrs Jean
ter of Kenneth Mackay, Esq. of Torboll.
Stewart.
8. At Annan, Lieut. Charles Douglas Clapper - At Aberdeen, Mrs Anderson of Deebank.
ton, Royal Marines, to Mary, eldest daughter of 26. At Belfast, the Rev. Wm. Neilson, D. D.
Joseph Johnston, Esq. of Dal-Hook, Dumfries M.R.L.A. Professor of Latin, Greek, and Hebrew,
shire.
and Head Master of the Classical School in the
12. At London, James Fairlie, Esq. of Bell Belfast Institution.
field and Holms, in Ayrshire, to Agnes Maria, el - At Kippax, Yorkshire, the Honourable Mrs
dest daughter of William Fairlie, of the Crescent, Cathcart.
Portlance.
- At Bellevue, near Southampton, Admiral
15. At St George's Chapel, Edinburgh, R. A. Sir Richard Rodney Bligh, G.C. B. aged 88 years.
Chermside, Esq. M. D. 10th Royal Hussars, to - At her sister's, Nrs Ramsay of Maxton,
Jane M. Williams, only daughter of the late Ro Leith, Marion, daughter of the late William Ha-
bert Williams, Esq. of Cerne Lodge, Dorsetshire, gart, Esq.
and niece to Colonel Blair of Blair, Ayrshire.
At East Mains of Callander, Mrs Elizabeth
19. At Kent-house, Knightsbridge, Captain Fre Stewart, wife of Walter Stewart, Esq. late of St
derick Fitzelarence, of his Majesty's 11th regiment, Elizabeth, Jamaica.
to Lady Augusta Boyle, daughter of the Earl and 27. At Old Melrose, Mrs Legge, wife of Lever
Countess of Glasgow.
Legge, Esq.
21. At Jedburgh, John Andrew Ormston, Esq. - At Somerset Place, Stockbridge, Christiana,
of Glenburnhall, to Miss Marjory Maxwell Thom the infant daughter of David Hatton, carver and
son.
gilder.
At Dunse Manse, Lieutenant-Colonel James - At Edinburgh, James Harrowar, Esq. of In-
Johnston, of the Portuguese service, and Major in zievar, Esq. advocate.
the British service, to Matthew Jane Trotter, only - At Sheal House, Ann M'Rae, the widow of
child of the late Matthew Trotter, jun. Esq. Nor a Kintail farmer, at the advanced age of 112 years.
thumberland.
Until the last winter, she had never known a
22. At Leith, Mr P. J. Martin, surgeon, Bulbo day's sickness, and her organs of seeing and hear.
rough, Sussex,
to Miss Mary Watson, third daugh- ing were unimpaired ; and not many months ago,
ter of the late Mr Adam Watson, Dunbar.
she could run a race with any of her sex of the
99. At Bothwell Castle, by the Rev. W. Rout third and fourth generation.
ledge, Robert Douglas, Esq. of Strathendry.. 28. At the manse of Kilchoman, island of Islay,
Captain in the 7th hussars, to the Hon. Mary the Rev. John MacLeish, aged 80 years, 41 of
Sidney Douglas, youngest daughter of Lord Dou which he was minister of that parish.
glas.
At Alloa, Mr Robert Macfarlane, ship-owner.
28. At Edinburgh, Captain Robson, of the 16th - At Crieff, on the 28th ult, after a short ill-
regiment, Madras Establishment, to Henrietta ness, Mr John Tainsh, writer. His death is much
Mackenzie, daughter of Mr Thomas Knox, for regretted in the county of Perth, by many who
merly of Firth.
will long remember the cheerful kindness of his
teinper in private life, his conciliating affability in
the conduct of business, the warmth and activity
DEATHS.
of his friendship, as well as the promptitude with
which he engaged in every thing connected with
May 25, 1820. At Calcutta, Mr James Easson, the public welfare. The esteem in which he was
late of the Honourable East India Company's ser held was testified by deputations from the differ-
vice, son of the late Mr Robert Easson, Leys of ent trades in Crieff' walking in procession at his
Errol.
funeral.
Nov. 30. At Cawnpore, Captain John Cruik May 1. At Clifton, in her 82d year, Mrs Piozzi.
shank, 24th regiment, N. I. by the accidental dis This celebrated lady long held a high station in
charge of a pistol, while
drawing the charge. the literary and fashionable circles, of which che
Dec. 20. Át Montego Bay, Jamaica, of a fever, was a distinguished ornament.
after a few days' illness, William Balfour, Esq. of - At Stockton-on-Tees, Charlotte, the infant
Retirement, Clifton, and Martha Brae.
daughter of Colonel and Lady Charlotte Macgre-
Jan. 8. At Lunenburgh, Nova Scotia, in the
house of her brother-in-law, the Rev. R. Aitken, — At Edinburgh, at the premature age of 32
Rector of St John's, Miss Cheyne, aged 79, eldest years, and much and justly deplored, Major John
daughter of Charles Cheyne, Esq. formerly mer Farquharson, of the 26th regiment of foot, son of
chant in Edinburgh, and grand niece of the emi Lieutenant-Colonel John Farquharson, late of the
nent physician, Dr George Cheyne.
Royal Highlanders.
27. In Jamaica, after a severe illness of five - At Leith, aged 75, Mr Robert Liddell, for 16
Weeks' duration, Mr John Wood, formerly book years manager of the late Edinburgh and Leith
seller in Dumfries.
Shipping Company.
April 6. On board the Walsingham packet, on 2. At Crieff, Jessie, second daughter of Mr
his passage from Jamaica to this country, Alexan M'Omich.
der M'Larty, M.D. director of the vaccine estab - At his house in New Norfolk Street, Gros-
lishment of that island, and physician for the pub venor Square, London, the Honourable Charles
lic hospital of the city of Kingston, where he was Stuart, brother to the late, and uncle to the pre-
a distinguished practitioner for upwards of 20 sent Lord Blantyre, aged 78.
years, during which period he had the good for 3. At Chancelot, near Leith, Mrs Margaret Dar.
tune to enjoy the uninterrupted confidence and ling, spouse of Mr James Ramsay, and third
esteem of that community, by whom he will
be daughter of the deceased Mr Darling, many years
long remembered, and his death sincerely regret tenant in Pinkie, near Musselburgh.
ted.
4. At Leven, in Fife, Mr John Mackay, surgeon,
16. At Aston, Sandford, the Rev. Thomas Scott, Frederick Street, Edinburgh, after a short illness.
author of the Commentary on the Bible, the Force 5. At the manse of Grange, the Rev. Francis
of Truth, and other valuable works.
Forbes.
gor Murray.


364
Register.-Deaths.
(June.
5. At Whitfield, Leith Walk, Frederick Wil. Mary Elizabeth, second daughter of Thomas, first
liam Gwynne, son of the late Rev. Frederick Viscount Sydney.
Gwynne, aged 5 years.
21. At Manse of Insch, the Rev. George Daun,
- At Aberdeen, Captain William Gordon, late in the 71st year of his age, and 31st of his ministry.
of the 1st regiment of foot, or Royal Scots.
22. At Cupar, Mrs Catherine Spens, wife of Mr
- At Ayr, Mr John Wilson, aged 62, many Alexander Wood, Elie.
years printer of the Ayr Advertiser.
- At her house, Merchant Street, Miss Watson.
- Archibald Smith, Esq. of Jordan Hill, aged 23. At London, William, youngest son of Mr
72.
John Murray, Albemarle Street.
7. At Sandbed of Dalswinton, William Howat At his house, London, Dr Robert Willis.
son, Esq. of Hazliebrae, W.S.
- At Leith, Mr Alexander Baird, much re-
8. At Edinburgh, Mr Andrew Wood, Fellow of gretted.
the Royal College of Surgeons, in his 30th year. 24. At Elgin, Patrick Duff, Esq. Town Clerk.
9. At Atherb, John Bruce, weaver, aged 113. - At the Manse of Luss, the Rev. Dr John
He never slept a night out of his native parish of Stuart, minister of that parish, who will be long
Old Deer till' aged 102, and was never but onee held in grateful remembrcnce by a numerous cir-
more than 10 miles from his place of nativity. cle of acquaintances, for his distinguished attain-
He wrought regularly at his business till upwards ments in literature and science, as well as for un-
of 100 years of age.
feigned piety, and the most active exertions in pro-
10. At Paris, M. Camille Jourdan, member of moting the knowledge of the sacred Scriptures
the Chamber of Deputies, who made a conspicu. among his countrymen. In private life he was a
ous figure during the French Revolution. pattern of meekness, hospitality and kindness.
11. At Apsley House, London, the amiable and - At the Manse of old Monkland, the Reve-
beautiful young Marchioness of Worcester, of an rend John Bower, minister of that parish.
internal inflammation. Her ladyship was married Suddenly, in a fit of apoplexy, John Camp-
on the 25th July, 1814, and was one of the most bell, Esq. of Conduit-vale, Blackheath.
intimate and favourite friends of the late Princess - At the Isle of Nith, Mr John Goldie, third
Charlotte.
son of James Goldie, Esq. of Knockcauchly..
- In Ireland, the Hon. Mrs Maule of Panmure. 27. At Kirkaldy, Margaret Stenhouse, widow
- At Edinburgh, Mrs Isabella Hogg, wife of of the late Mr John Cameron, Prince's Street,
Mr Thomas Chalmers, Potterrow.
Edinburgh, aged 79 years.
12. At Marshall Place, Perth, Mrs Ann Macvi - At his house in St John's Street, Canongate,
car, aged 78.
the Rev. Alexander Stewart, D.D. one of the Mi-
13. At Edinburgh, Frederick L. Maitland, nisters of Canongate, aged 57, and in the 35th of
younger, of Rankeilour.
his ministry.
- At Edinburgh, Miss Mary Ballantine, eldest - At Edinburgh, Miss Jane Menzies, youngest
daughter of the late Patrick Ballantine, Esq. of daughter of the late William Menzies, Esq. Solici-
Orchard.
tor of Customs.
At the Manse of Mid-Calder, Mrs Sommers, - At Edinburgh, James Harrowar of Inzievar,
wife of the Reverend Dr John Sommers.
Esq. Advocate.
- Laurence Dalgliesh, Esq. of West Grange. 28. At his house, Brown Square, Mr Peter Law.
15. John Bonnycastle, Esq. Professor of Mathe son, seed merchant.
matics at the Royal Military Academy of Wool 29. At Edinburgh, Mrs Erskine of Dun.
wich.
- At London, Francis James Douglas, Esq.
At Prestongrange-house, Margaret, eldest Coldstream Guards, second son of the late George
daughter of Sir James Grant Suttie, Bart. of Douglas of Cavers, Esq.
Prestongrange and Balgone, M. P.
At Linlithgow, Mr Peter Clark, farmer, and
16. At Edinburgh, Lieutenant Lockhart Gilles one of the magistrates of that burgh.
pie of the royal artillery, youngest son of the late 50. The Hon. Morton Elden, brother to Lord
Dr Thomas Gillespie, physician in Edinburgh Auckland, in the 27th year of his age.
17. At Peebles, Árs Davidson, relict of Thomas June 1. At Bath, the Right Hon. John Camp-
Davidson, farmer, Milcomston.
bell, Lord Cawdor, Baron Cawdor, of Castlemar-
At Dunfermline, the Reverend James Hus-
tin, county of Pembroke.
band, D. D. in the 70th year of his age, and 46th - At his house in Spring Gardens, London, the
of his ministry.
Right Hon. the Earl of Stair. He was the sixth
18. At his seat at Newbrook, in the county of earl, and succeeded his father, John, in 1789. His
Mayo, aged 56, the Right Honourable Lord Baron lordship's titles were, Earl and Viscount of Stair,
Clanmorris. The title and part of his estates de Viscount Dalrymple, Baron of Newliston, Glen-
scend to his lordship's eldest son, the Honourable luce, and Stranraer, and a Baronet. His lordship
Barry Bingham, (now Lord Clanmorris.)
dying without issue, is succeeded by his nephew,
- At Lettermay, Argyllshire, Mr John M‘Dou-
J. W. H. Dalrymple, now Earl of Stair.
gall, father of the late Reverend Dr M.Dougall, Lately, At fosterhill, in the parish of Kilmar-
in the 9th year of his age.
nock, Mrs Janet Fleming, relict of Mr Robert
- In Gilmore Place, Mrs Robertson, sincerely Nelson, at the very advanced age of 93 years.
beloved and lamented by all who knew her. About 12 months before her death, she got a num-
- At Houghton-Le-Spring, Michael Patrick
ber of new teeth, apparently as fresh as those of a
Russel, youngest son of Patrick Russel, Esq. W. S. child, and although at one period of her life, she
Mr Patrick Dallaway, ironmonger, Edin was obliged to use glasses, yet for 10 years previ-
burgh.
ous to her death, she could read very small print
18. At Paris, the Duke de Coigny.
without them.
20. Awfully sudden, Mr Charles Brightley, an - In the parish of Bryanstone, near Blandford,
eminent printer and publisher, of Budgay in Suf the widow Oliver, aged 102; she retained ber fa-
folk.
culties almost to the last, and was ill but a few
- At Inverness, the Reverend Alexander Fra days.
ser, senior minister of that place, in the 70th year - In the neighbourhood of Bristol, Dr Calleot,
of his age, and 13d of his ministry.
the celebrated musician, whose vocal music has
21. At his lordship's house, London, the Right contributed a large share of the delight received by
Hon. the Countess of Chathain. Her ladyship was the public for the last thirty years.
Printed by James Ballantyne an:1 Co.





BLACKWOOD'S
EDINBURGH MAGAZINE.
No. LII.
JULY, 1821.
Vol. IX.
NAPOLEON.
The mighty sun had just gone down
Into the chambers of the deep ;
The ocean birds had upward flown,
Each in his cave to sleep.
And silent was the island shore,
And breathless all the broad red sea,
And motionless beside the door
Our solitary tree.
Our only tree, our ancient palm,
Whose shadow sleeps our door beside,
Partook the universal calm,
When Buonaparte died.
An ancient man, a stately man,
Came forth beneath the spreading tree,
His silent thoughts I could not scan,
His tears I needs must see.
A trembling hand had partly cover'd
The old man's weeping countenance,
Yet something o'er his sorrow hover'd
That spake of War and France ;
Something that spake of other days,
When trumpets pierced the kindling air,
And the keen eye could firmly gaze
Through battle's crimson glare.
Said I, Perchance this faded hand,
When Life beat high, and Hope was young,
By Lodi's wave-on Syria's sand
The bolt of death hath flung.
Young Buonaparte's battle cry
Perchance hath kindled this old cheek;
It is no shame that he should sigh,-
His heart is like to break.
2 Z
VOL. IX.


368
Napoleon.
[July;
He hath been with him, young and old ;
He climb'd with him the Alpine Snow;
He heard the cannon when they rollid
Along the silver Po.
His soul was as a sword, to leap
At his accustom'd leader's word;
I love to see the old man weep,
He knew no other lord.
As if it were but yesternight,
This man remembers dark Eylau, -
His dreams are of the Eagle's flight,
Victorious long ago.
The memories of worser time
Are all as shadows unto him;
Fresh stands the picture of his prime,-
The later trace is dim.
I enter'd, and I saw him lie
Within the chamber, all alone,
I drew near very solemnly
To dead Napoleon.
He was not shrouded in a shroud,
He lay not like the vulgar dead,
Yet all of haughty, stern, and proud
From his pale brow was fled.
He had put harness on to die,
The eagle-star shone on his breast,
His sword lay bare his pillow nigh,-
The sword he liked the best.
But calm-most calm was all his face,
A solemn smile was on his lips,
His eyes were closed in pensive graee-
A most serene eclipse !
Ye would have said some sainted sprite
Had left its passionless abode, -
Some man, whose prayer at morn and night
Had duly risen to God.
What thoughts had calm'd his dying breast
(For calm he died) cannot be known;
Nor would I wound a warrior's rest
Farewell, Napoleon !
No sculptured pile our hands shall rear;
Thy simple sod the stream shall lave,
The native Holly's leaf severe
Shall grace and guard thy grave.
The Eagle stooping from the sky
Shall fold his wing and rest him here,
And sunwards gaze with glowing eye
From Buonaparte's Bier.


1821.)
369
Lines suggested by the sight of some late Autumn Flowers.
LINES
Suggested by the sight of some late Autumn Flowers.
Those few pale autumn flowers, Last hours with parting dear ones,
How beautiful they are !
(That time the fastest spends)
Than all that went before,
Last tears in silence shed,
Than all the summer store,
Last words half uttered,
How lovelier far!
Last looks of dying friends.
And why?- They are the last !
Who but would fain compress
The last! the last ! the last !
A life into a day,
Oh ! by that little word,
The last day spent with one
How many thoughts are stirr'd; Who, e'er the morrow's sun,
That sister of the past !
Must leave us, and for aye?
Pale flowers ! pale perishing flowers! Oh, precious, precious moments!
Ye're types of precious things; Pale flowers ! ye're types of those;
Types of those bitter moments, The saddest ! sweetest! dearest!
That fit like life's enjoyments, Because, like those, the nearest
On rapid, rapid wings.
To an eternal close.
Pale flowers ! pale perishing flowers !
I woo your gentle breath-
I leave the summer rose
For younger, blither brows;
Tell me of change and death.
C.
TO A DYING INFANT.
SLEEP, little baby ! sleep!
Not in thy cradle bed,
Not on thy mother's breast
Henceforth shall be thy rest,
But with the quiet dead.
Yes—with the quiet dead,
Baby, thy rest shall be.
Oh! many a weary wight,
Weary of life and light,
Would fain lie down with thee.
Flee little tender nursling!
Flee to thy grassy nest;
There the first flowers shall blow,
The first pure flake of snow
Shall fall upon thy breast.
Peace! peace ! the little bosom
Labours with short’ning breath-
Peace! peace! that tremulous sigh
Speaks his departure nigh-
Those are the damps of death.
I've seen thee in thy beauty,
A thing all health and glee ;
But never then wert thou
So beautiful, as now,
Baby! thou seem'st to me.
Thine up-turn'd eyes glazed over,
Like hare-bells wet with dew;
Already veil'd and hid
By the convulsed lid,
Their pupils darkly blue.
Thy little mouth half open-
The soft lip quivering,
As if (like summer air
Ruffling the rose leaves) there
Thy soul were fluttering.
Mount up, immortal essence !
Young spirit ! haste, depart-
And is this death !-Dread Thing!
If such thy visiting,
How beautiful thou art!
Oh! I could gaze for ever
Upon that waxen face:
So passionless! so pure!
The little shrine was sure
An Angel's dwelling place.
Thou weepest, childless Mother !
Aye, weep-'twill ease thine heart
He was thy first-born Son,
Thy first, thine only one,
'Tis hard from him to part !
'Tis hard to lay thy darling
Deep in the damp cold earth-
His empty crib to see,
His silent nursery,
Once gladsome with his mirth.
To meet again in slumber
His small mouth's rosy kiss;
Then, waken’d with a start
By thine own throbbing heart,
His twining arms to miss !


370
To a Dying Infant.
[July,
To feel (half conscious why) Thou'lt say-"My first-born blessing!
A dulì, heart-sinking weight, It almost broke my heart
Till mem'ry on thy soul
When thou wert forced to go,
Flashes the painful whole,
And yet, for thee, I know,
That thou art desolate!
'I'was better to depart.
And then to lie and weep,
« God took thee in his mercy,
And think the live-long night A lamb, untask'd, untried;
(Feeding thine own distress
He fought the fight for thee,
With accurate greediness)
He won the victory,
Of every past delight;
And thou art sanctified!
Of all his winning ways,
“I look around, and see
His pretty, playful smiles,
The evil ways of men ;
His joy at sight of thee,
And, oh! beloved child !
His tricks, his mimickry,
I'm more than reconciled
And all his little wiles !
To thy departure then.
Oh! these are recollections
• The little arms that clasped me,
Round mothers' hearts that cling The innocent lips that prest, —
That mingle with the tears
Would they have been as pure
And smiles of after years,
Till now, as when of yore,
With oft awakening.
I lulld thee on my breast?
But thou wilt then, fond Mother! “Now (like a dew-drop shrined
In after years, look back,
Within a crystal stone)
(Time brings such wondrous easing) Thou'rt safe in heaven, my dove!
With sadness not unpleasing, Safe with the Source of Love,
E'en on this gloomy track.-
The Everlasting One.
“ And when the hour arrives
From flesh that sets me free,
Thy spirit may await,
The first at heaven's gate,
To meet and welcome me."
C.
LETTER FROM DOCTOR SILKY,
Inclosing Mr O'Fogarty's Journal and Poem.
Skibbereen, 1st July.
Sır;—My old friend, Mr O'Fogarty, has directed me to forward you the in-
closed journal, which he has been preparing for your Magazine, together with
the 5th canto of what he calls his sublime poem.-Sublime poem!! It was
his intention, he says, to have continued the journal during his stay in this
part of the country; but, sir, instead of being now engaged in scrambling over
mountains, or trudging through bogs, amusements my poor friend is much at-
tached to, he unfortunately lies on the flat of his back at the mansion of a hos-
pitable gentleman in this neighbourhood. Indeed, he is a most unlucky man ;
it is not long since he had a couple of fingers blown off at a shooting match;
and he is only just now recovering from the effects of a ducking that he got in
going out pollocking with some of the wild youngsters of the west. Poor fellow,
he was thrown out of his line with all the glee imaginable, when a young gen-
tleman, whose name I purposely conceal, watching his opportunity, tumbled
honest Fogarty overboard. He sunk and rose several times, and was ultimate
ly saved by the exertions of a favourite water spaniel, who hauled him to land
by the ear, his wig having fallen off at the first immersion. A fever was the
consequence, and he is only now, as I have already remarked, just recovering.
He desired me to say, that you should have had the last canto of his poem be-
fore this time, had it not been for the misfortune thus stated, but that mo-


1821.]
Letter from Doctor Silky.
371
ment he is able to put pen to paper, it shall be concluded. Between ourselves,
Mr North, you need not be very anxious about that part of the business, for
should Fogarty even kick the bucket, it is my determination to finish the poem
for you myself. I do not see much to be praised, to say the truth, in the
poetry of it; and as to the story, there is scarcely one syllable of it told core
rectly. Many facts are slurred over, or entirely omitted, and several ridiculous
ideas of his own introduced. I have heard the story five hundred times from
Parker Roche, (a jovial fellow, who tells it well,) and the devil a word at all
about mites in a cheese in it; or of there being such good-for-nothing fellows
as Lambton, or Creevy, or Boghouse in the moon; this is all fiction of his
own, and spoils the story, throwing an air of doubt over the real truth. Very
little would induce me to recompose the whole poem, and put it in some hand-
some rhyme, not his outlandish metre, that Bill Wolfe, a very book-learned
gentleman, told me was imported from France or Spain, or some other foreign
parts. I would write it to the tune of Black-eyed Susan, or Cease rude
Boreas, two songs I am very fond of, being always, though a doctor, bred to
the sea; and having served for a long time on board the Beresford. I will
tell you hereafter, if we continue good friends, something that occurred once
between the Beresford and the Wasp.
Take care, and do not let OʻFogarty know that I said any thing disrespect-
ful of his poem, as he is always boasting of his stuff, and how it travels all over
the world in Blackwood's Magazine. Burn the letter for fear of accidents ;
and inform me, by a return of post, what you think of my idea of giving you
a new edition of Daniel. I remain,
Sir, with great respect,
Your obedient servant,
WILL. SILKY, M. D.
MR O'FOGARTY'S JOURNAL.
Wednesday, June 6th.—Left Cork on is always ready for the friend, or the
the summit of the Skibbereen mail to stranger.
spend a few days with some of my ac Thursday, June 7th.-Rose with the
quaintances in the west.-Morning lark, as fresh as a cucumber. Set all
bleak and pinching.-Raised a shoe- hands to work to get ready for a fish-
hail at the nine-mile house.—More ing excursion. We had assembled to
comfortable after it.-Breakfast at Ban- the number of seven when I came
don, laid in three eggs, four cups of down stairs, which, by the time break-
tea, and a trifle of cold beef at Falvey's. fast was ready, had increased to nine.
-Intended to look after the improve- -Long dispute which lake to steer
ments at Bandon, particularly the towards.— Kilkern determined on.
Duke of Devonshire's new hotel and Demolished a few rolls and an idea of
tavern, but staid too long at Falvey's, cold meat.-Set off in prime order and
owing to the waiter's delay in boiling a full puffMemorandum.-Hid a can-
second kettle of water for breakfast. teen of potheen in the bottom of the
Dashed on to Clonakilty.-Stopped to fishing basket.- Bad sport.—Thirteen
visit half-a-dozen of the Hungerfords, whappers massacred between us.-
my relations by the mother's side, took Shone conspicuously myself. How de-
a trifling snack, and pushed on to lightful to see the lads, when hook'd,
Rosscarbery.- Arrived in time to din- throw up their speckled bodies in the
ner at my friend Dick's—damn'd hunc air, then dart to the bottom of the war
gry-tasted some lamb, and tried a ter.—Killed one fellow 13] inches
rasher or two, and stowed away a few long.-Lots of fun.—Dined at Mick
tumblers (I forget the number pre- Galway's, who never sees a fisherman
cisely) of the real potheen.--Popped, at the lake, but feels uneasy until he
or was rather carried, to bed at twelve, gets the sportsman's legs snug under
and slept soundly on the pillow, that his mahogany, and plants him down


1821.]
Mr OʻFogarty's Journal.
373
crificing to Bacchus the jolly God. It - Dined at home.-Got to bed early,
was altogether rather an amusing af- to be up at cock-crow for a pollocking
fair.
match in the bay.
Sunday, 10th.-Went to the Cathe-
dral.- Came home and read Grier's
new book for the remainder of the day.
Such was the abrupt termination to my friend's journal. I have continued
it myself, and will transmit it in due course.
W. S., M. D.
DANIEL O'ROURKE ;
An Epic Poem, in Six Cantos.
BY FOGARTY O'FOGARTY, ESQ. OF BLARNEY.
CANTO V.*
THE GEESE.
" Who first found out the Man i' the Moon,
That to the ancients was unknown ;-
Or does the Man i' th' Moon look big,
And wear a huger periwig ?
BUTLER.
-ορνίθων πετεηνών έθνεα πολλά
Χηνών-
"Ενθα και ένθα ποτώνται αγαλλόμενοι πτερύγεσσιν.
ILIAD, B.
The Man of the Moon for ever!
The Man of the Moon for ever!
We'll drink to him still
In a merry cup of ale,
Here's the Man of the Moon for ever!
There's Orion with his golden belt,
And Mars, that burning mover ;
But of all the lights
That rule the nights,
The Man of the Moon for ever!
JACOBITE RELICS, collected by the Shepherd
of the barbarous surname.
1.
That there are many wond'rous things, I hold
From observation of this earthly round:
'Tis wondrous on a crab-tree to behold
Cherries and plumbs, in clusters rich abound;
'Tis wond'rous to hear snuff-boxes of gold
Discourse sweet music, with melodious sound;
'Tis wond'rous to see Munden's rich grimace,-
Mathews “ At Home,"-or Liston's greasy face.
2.
'Tis wond'rous to perceive a silent woman,
Or in a hedge-attorney honesty ;-
To find a hangman that is not inhuman;
Or a physician sneezing at a fee:-
'Tis wondrous to peruse a Scotch review-man,
When he abuses Wordsworth's poetry.
Wond'rous are these, as well as many more ;,
But none so strange, as when, from out the door,
* In my friend's original letter to you, he, by mistake, said, there was to be only
five cantos. There are actually six. The next is the pail of water.


374
Daniel OʻRourke.
[July,
8.
I spoke of in the Canto I wrote last,
An ugly, pale-faced, brawny, square-built figure,
Clothed in a fashion that long since has past
Diminutive in size, (perhaps not bigger
Than Tommy Moore,) rush'd furious as a blast,
And grumbling boarsely, like a wounded pig, or
The wind at Equinox, with mouth spread wide,
Gazed for a moment at our friend astride.
4.
Upon his head was placed a three-cock'd hat,
Perch'd on a wig not very new, I ween,
A red plush waistcoat, -and, attach'd to that,
A snug warm coat, of purple velveteen;
A leather breeches,-boots, with soles quite flat,-
Gay yellow neckcloth, spotted with pea-green;
A large broad belt was tighten'd round his waist,
Which Man I'TH' Moon, in dazzling letters graced.*
5.
He waddled forth, in consequential style,
With hands in breeches-pockets stuck so gay,
Not much unlike that famous crocodile
Of whom Lord Castlereagh discoursed one day;t
No bush or dog attended him the while,
As Shakespeare and some other quizzers say, I
He trode upon the cheesy air, and thus,
Speaking to Dan, open'd' his ugly puss.
6.
“ Good morrow, Dan! what fortune brought you here,
To pay a visit to my realms to night?
I'm glad to see you, faith ; but, much I fear,
There's something in your looks that is not right!
Now that I look again, I see quite clear,
(Here Dan was almost dropping off with fright)
That you've been looking at a merry cup.
But how the devil did you travel up?".
Butler seems to have been aware of the existence and true appearance of the Man
in the Moon, when, in ridiculing Sidrophel's quackery and pretended knowledge of
astrology, he makes him possess an instrument that
"Would demonstrate, that the Man in
The Moon's a sea Mediterranean ;
And that it is no dog nor bitch
That stands behind him at his breech,
But a huge Caspian sea or lake,
With arms, whích men for legs mistake -
How large a gulph his tail composes,
And what a goodly bay his nose is :-
How many German leagues, by the scale,
Cape Snout's from Promontory Tail."
It is refreshing to think that Butler, who always thought for himself, did not allow
his genius to be cramped and his eye-sight darkened by the scheming star-gazers of the
day.
+ “Ministers were not to look on like crocodiles, with their hands in their breeches-
pockets, doing nothing."-Speech of my Lord Castlereagh.
# It would be a pleasant question in physics, to calculate the precise density of this
air, which was sufficient to support the man in the moon. The Professor would, I
am sure, be glad to oblige one of Ebony's contributors, by doing it for me whenever be
has leisure.
8


1821.]
Daniel O'Rourke.
375
7.
“ I'll tell you, sir,"_Dan trembled as for life,
“ I met a friend of mine, one Paddy Blake."
“ I know him well, 'tis he that has the wife
Whose tongue makes all the neighbouring gossips quake,
And keeps the village in perpetual strife ; .
Go on, my man. -“ Well, sir, I went to take
A sober glass of ale, quite free and easy,
At Mrs Mulshinane's, the Mountain Daisy,
8.
“I got some brandy, and we both got drunk,
For how I left the Daisy, I don't know,-
But when my sense return'd, there was I sunk,
Up to my ancles, in a bog; and so,
As I was giving up myself, my spunk
And courage being gone, an Eagle, oh!
My curses on her, (wheresoe'er she roam,)
Told me to mount him, and he'd take me home.
9.
“Well, sir, I mounted up-the more fool I
And off she flew, as nimble as the wind,
And never stopp'd till far up in the sky,
Upon this spot she left me here behind.
What shall I do? (Dan here began to cry,
For thoughts of home were flashing cross his mind,)
I'd gladly give a pot and half-a-crown,
To any one who'd help me to get down.”
10.
“ I often,” quoth the lunar lord supreme,
“ Have watch'd you, Dan, when staggering home to bed ;
And though I always feel a high esteem
For those who tend their mass ; yet, I am led
To tell you candidly, I cannot deem
A beastly drunkard, who has hither fled
From lower earth, companion fit for me,
So, Dan, dismount, and march home instantly.".
11.
“ March home,” says Dan ; " Oh Lord! I wish I could ;
But how in name of wonder can it be? -
Sure you don't think I'm made of stone or wood,
To fall from here."-" Come, come, sir, presently
Prepare to bounce.”—“Stop, sir, be first so good,
To let me see your wife and family."
“ There's no one here, but I, myself alone :"
“But one, then damme, if I budge a bone.”
12.
The lunar sovereign gave a smile of scorn,
And turn'd upon his nicely polish'd heel.
He laugh’d as loud as blast of bugle horn,
His eye flash'd fire that made poor Daniel reel ;
He oped and closed the portal-all forlorn
Dan still clung close as seaman to the keel
Of upturn'd boat, for life; when re-appears
The moonly monarch, with a pair of shears,
Vol. IX.
3 A


1921.]
Daniel O'Rourke.
373
19.
That fringes thee, the far Atlantic Sen.
Oft have I wander'd on thy rugged shore,
E'er the bright morn has bid the vapours flee,
And stay'd to listen to thy waters roar;
Or wander'd on in sadness silently,
Marking the tints the evening sunbeams wore;
Or idly musing, pick'd the pebbly sand,
Or cuild the sea-weed on thy lovely strand
20.
Oft in the bowels of some giant rock,
That dares the storm, and scorns the tempest's wrath,
But cannot brave the long continued shock
Of calmer waters,-have I chose my path,
And sometimes sat beneath the roofs that mock
The hand of art.-Where is the man that hath
Once seen these wave-worn monuments of thee
Who loves not ocean's boundless majesty.
21.
Oft too has
wandered with me there,
And then, indeed, the caves, and strand, and sea,
And every earthly thing seem'd fresh and fair,
For she was every earthly thing to me;
Yes ! she was what a love-sick swain would dare
To dub an angel, or divinity;
She's gone !—but think not reader, to the tomb:
She ran off lately with her father's groom.
But to my tale :-As Daniel tumbled on,
Somewhat about three miles in ev'ry sec
second,
And about midway from the moon had gone,
(This is but guess, the distance was not reckon'd,)
The moon, still gay, upon some objects shone
With brighter light:-Here Dan cried out and beckon'd,
For steering up from off a cloud-capp'd rock,
Dan saw of geese, untam'd, a mighty Aock.
23.
A milk-white gander, * nobly led the van,
Sailing majestic on his downy wing,
His long neck arch'd as proudly as the swan,
Of whom you've heard the poet Wordsworth sing ;
A mighty pretty bird as any one
Would wish to see ;-in many an airy ring
He wheel’d, curvetted, dived, and soar'd away,
And seem'd to sport in joy, or amorous play.
24.
“ Good morrow, Dan, how came you
here my
friend?"
In accents soft as his unruffled piume,
The goose began, - I cannot comprehend
The nature of your visit,
-I presume
Upon my honour, there is here no personal allusion to any of our Whig friends. I
mention this, for there has been a rather absurd bawling about personalities of late, and
some people, whenever they see the word “ ass,
ape,'
," “ gander,” “ bullock," or
any other innocent animal, immediately cry out, “ That means us.' Very ridiculous
all this.


378
Laniel O'Rourke.
(July,
You're not accustom'd thus your time to spend ;
Come tell me all,"_here Dan began to fáme
And roar amain-and swear both loud and hearty
That eagle, moon-man, goose, were all one party.
25.
Bat still the gander spoke so sweet and kind,
That Dan began to tell his piteous tale,
“ How he met Blakė, and how he got so blind
With brandy, meaning only to touch ale;
And how an eagle, on the wings of wind,
Bore him aloft, and left him with the pale
And ugly man who lives within the moon,
And how this rascal served him."-" Very soon
26.
“ I'll take you home, my friend," the goose replied ;
“ Just seize me by this claw, and hold it strong."
And stretching out his red leg from his side,
Motion’d to Daniel how he'd speed along-
But here I think I'll lay my pen aside,
And for the present stop my venturous song ;
For dinner's ready-By next month we'll know
How this kind bird help'd Daniel in his woe.
END OF CANTO FIFTH.
THE FISHERMAN'S BUDGET.
No. II.
To CHRISTOPHER NORTH, Esq.
ESTIMABLE SIR,- I have been prevented, by a very grievous visitation, from
sending you the continuation of the letters, till a later period than usual. The
fact is simply this: I was walking, about a fortnight ago, with Mr Ferrimond,
discussing some parts of Euclid's Data, and the evening being somewhat chil-
ly, he proposed that we should ascend a newly raised hay-stack ; between the
top of which, and the slated roof, there was comfortable sitting-room. The
captain saw us mount, and, being always at his nonsense, removed the ladder.
Not being aware of the circumstance, and being in earnest conversation when
I turned to descend, my foot had nothing to rest on, and down I came, Sir, po-
sitively shattering my leg, and crushing a hen with her brood of chickens to
death. In fact, there never was a more palpable demonstration of the laws of
gravity; and I trust it will be a warning to your argumentative readers, not to
discuss mathematics on a hay-stack. I am,
DEAR SIR,
Yours, truly,
0. O. BALDERDASH.
Caengylliwzlligul, July 2, 1821.
P.S.-My Christian names are Owen Owen Balderdash. In the last Num-
ber, you omitted one 0.
FROM MB VERBLE TO MR MIZZLETOE, CHYMIST AXD DRUGGIST, OF CHAD-
DERTON-CUM-GOSTLE.
Douglas, Isle of Man, June 26, 1819.
Dear Mr MIZŽLETOE,
nothing but crosses and mishaps since
It's a grievous mistake for people to I left Chadderton. Why, sir, I was
go abroad for pleasure. I've inet with positively arrested at Liverpool, and


1621.)
The Fisherman's Budget. No. II.
379
kept a whole night in limbo. I have beautiful soft carpeting, and different
not patience to particularize the cir- kinds of soap, and fine large looking-
cumstances. It was all owing to my glasses, and all sorts of head-brushes ;
wearing a snuff-coloured waistcoat, and and the footman took the dust from
a cock and pinched hat. Mrs Verble my coat, (as he called brushing) in so
was in a pretty tantum-she's nothing, tasteful a manner, that I am sure a
as it were, at a pinch. The gout has cloth must last double the length of
been flying about my left leg ever since. time to what it will as our wench
The place was as cold as a marl-pit. Molly uses it ; for she lays my coat on
The captain, my nephew, arrived the the kitchen-dresser, and scrubs and
day after this occurrence, and things brushes, as it were, till there is scarce-
were ten times worse then; I had hard ly any wool left. By the bye, whilst I
work to keep him from throwing the think on't, government is about to lay
officer into the dock. Indeed I never a new duty on pepper—it's too bad
saw a lad with so much pitch and tow every day rejoices me more that I gave
in his disposition. The mistake would up my concern in London at the mo-
not so soon have been remedied, but ment I did. When I went down stairs,
for my niece. There's no accounting I found the family seated in the libra-
for these things. On common occa- ry, which was filled all round with
sions, she's just, for all the world, no books, in beautiful golden bindings ;
better than a chicken ; and yet, in this and there was likewise a pair of globes,
business, she shewed more fortitude and a fiddle, and other philosophical
and decision, as it were, than any of instruments. The captain was quite
us. We should have sailed last Tues- taken up with his sister and her friend ;
day for this place, but Mr Spellman, and Mrs Verble was examining and
who got me out of the hands of the praising a fine gown that Mrs Spell-
Philistines, would have us spend a day man had on; so that Mr Spellman and
at his house, for his daughter is an old me was, as it were, left to ourselves;
school-fellow of Maria's ; so we defer- and I was quite delighted with the af.
edd our embarkation, as it were, till the fable manner that he entered into dis-
Friday.
course ; for he asked my opinion of
Mr Spellman lives about two miles the different turnpike-trusts in our
from Liverpool, in a very splendid neighbourhood, and the value of canal
house, fit for a noble gentleman. Mrs shares, and the nature of the soil, and
Verble would have us go in a coach, what land rented for the acre, and such
which cost me four shillings, besides like; and I thought Mrs Spellman was
turnpikes; and the captain, my ne- quite as obliging to my wife, for she
phew, rode on his horseback. When kept laughing most heartily at her sim-
we got to the lobby door, or hall, as ple questions about Valentene's lace
they now call it, a gentleman in mourn- and canting shawls. I thought Miss
ing, with his hair powdered, and in Spellman seemed the most untalkable;
black silk stockings, ran down the steps she's rather of a melancholy cast, as it
to help me from the coach. I wished were, like my niece; and, besides, that
him good morning, and shook hands the captain, my nephew, was talking
with him; which was not exactly all kinds of harum-scarum in a straight
right, as I found he was only a foot- forward shape ; and they seemed quite
man. But it is surprising to see how content to listen to the “ breeches and
the lower classes ape our appearance ambuscados" which the stage-player
now, as it were. Between you and me, said, the other night Queen Mab made
Mrs Verble was under the same mis- soldiers dream of. I should not be so
take, for she made him a marvellous exact about these here minutiæ, only
low reverence. There was such kiss. it shows thoroughly what a born fool
ing between my niece and Miss Spell- that Mr Spleengizzard is, that always
man, and such civilness and welcome- insists, at our club, on the pride and ar-
ness by the master and mistress, as rogance of these rich folks. For here's
quite delighted me I felt quite at me, as it were, why, respectable enough
home, as it were. Then my mistress to be sure, among my own class of gen-
was shewn into another room, and the tlemen apothecaries, but in company
footman took me to his master's dress- with one far above it, and yet every
ing-room, and I washed my hands, and thing is civil and curteous, and great
straighted my wig; and there was such forbearance, and as much diffidence of


$80
The Fisherman's Budget. No. II.
(July,
opinion as condescension in listening trouble, as it were ; and there was like-
to mine ; and no large talking, nor at- wise large green glasses full of water
tempt to make one feel one's own infe- on the other side. I rather made a
riority, whilst, all the time, the con- mistake ; for, never having seen them
sciousness of it is quite topmost, as it before, nor considering that they were
were.
cleanly conveniences, I drank mine off,
Well, we talked, and talked, till a as I should anything else, for I thought
great bell, bigger than that in Chad- it was, as our prescriptions run, "ve-
derton-chapel, rung for dinner; and hiculo idoneo."" No one noticed it, as
Mr Spellman bowed to my wife, and I believed; but when the dessert was
offered her his arm ; but she's not much brought, and Mr Spellman asked me
up to these ceremonies, and said she what liquor I would drink, &c. my
could do by herself, which was quite nephew said,"MrVerble prefers finger
wrong, for my niece says it's the com- water, sir." -Oh! the monkey, I could
mon punctilio on such occasions. The have shook him for it-it makes one
captain, however, seems always right; look so foolish, as it were, Mr Mizzle
and before I had made up my mind toe.
what to do, he took his sister and the The ladies soon retired, and we drew
young miss on either arm; so then I our chairs closer together, and Mr
stepped up to Mrs Spellman, and made Spellman commentated on the low poor
my reverence, and walked her into the rates in our parish, and other scientific
dining-room. There was a most sump- subjects, and particularly what our
tus set out. Mrs Spellman had a fine people said about the Queen. And
cod before her, and I sat on one side, then he conversed with my nephew,
and I never saw any snow whiter than about the army and its concernments,
the cloth in which it was covered. She and the present system of half-pay;
began to cut it with a large silver knife, and mightily he was pleased, on heara
very like a bricksetter's trowel ; and, ing that so young a lad had been so
would you believe it, my nephew took long with his regiment in the east;
it from her hand, and insisted on help- and he asked a multitude of questions
ing it himself, though she was mistress about the roads and harbour of Bom-
of the house. Oh ! I should have eat bay, (for he's in a large way there,)
my tongue before doing such a thing and the navigation thereto; and I was
It was shamefully ill-mannered. I stone-surprised at my nephew's infor-
could not describe the various dishes; mation upon these things, which shews
but there was all kind of melongis, he's had his eyes about him, though
and frickasees ; and when all was done, he's such a wild tear-away chap. Then,
as it were, there was another set on, after much pressing, my nephew de-
consisting of roasted hare, and more- scribed the various hardships their brie
game, &c. The worst of it was, I spoil- gade underwent during the hostilities
ed my green sprig waistcoat;for think- with the Mahrattas; the want of pro-
ing to save the footman trouble, I would visions, heat, rain, fatigue, &c.; and I
hand the plates, he pulled the other could not but wonder at the distin-
way, and so a great quantity of fish guishing character of our English lads,
sauce was upset on my clothes ; and that makes them bear all in good part,
when I came to feel for my tooth-pick, chuse where the devil they are. Mr
I drew a whole handful of cockles and Spellman has two young gentlemen
melted butter from my waistcoat- now preparing to go out to India, and
pocket.
he's educating them at his own free
My niece says, quietness is the esa cost and charge, and doubts not they'll
sence of politeness at a dinner table, do, if they can stand the climate. Well,
and I believe she's right. The new- from this they talked of the moral ef-
fangled silver forks pottered me exces- fect of our influence in that immense
sively; they're more like the wooden tract of country, and the uncertain te-
hands that are fastened to children's nure of our dominion there ; and then
dolls, than instruments for victuals. about the use of the native or Hindos.
I asked for one of the old fashion, and tanee tongue ; and, would you believe
then I managed to get my dinner.- it, Mr Spellman and my nephew got
There was white towels under each into a tight argument on the meaning
plate, which I fancied was to wipe one's of the word garra-poo-jah; Mr Spell-
knife and fork on, to save the servant man insisting that it meant sugar in


1821.)
The Fisherman's Budget. No. II.
881
the cane, and my nephew asserting squeeze a plate-full of it into my spec-
that it implied suker en likure, or tacle case.
treacle hum.
I purposed steering homewards di-
I took advantage of this dispute, to rectly after tea, for I was determined
slip from the table, expecting to find not to pay four shillings, besides turn-
the ladies in the library; but, being pikes, again, in one day; but Mr Spell-
disappointed, I got a new work on man would make us tarry longer, and
Cranioscopy, which you know was a promised to send his carriage with us;
favourite study when I was at leisure so after walking to and fro a while in
from the shop; and, since I came here, the grounds, we returned to the tea-
I have picked up several curious works room to enjoy a little music. It seem-
connected with it, particularly one byed they meant to have a laugh at my
Ludovico Dolci, on the locality of some expence, for my nephew said I played
of the faculties, which I shall write like Orphus, or something of that sort;
about in my next. I sat down in a but its a long time since he heard me,
high chair, lined back and sides with and I have stuck very much to it late-
morocco cushions; and, as luck would ly, so that I believe I surprised him a
have it, the wine and dinner made me little. My niece took the harp, the
dozy, and indeed I slept till the foot- captain the flute, Miss Spellman the
man came and wakened me, though in piano, and myself the fiddle, and we
the meantime they had searched for managed Rousseau's Dream, with va-
me far and near.
riations, adapted to the four instru-
Every thing was superb in the tea- ments, with considerable he clau, as
room; and there was a beautiful harp, Mr Spellman said. I've thought, for
and a grand piano-forte. The win- some time, that music is now taught
dows came down to the floor, and the on a wrong principle: it's far different
centre one opened on a handsome tere from what it formerly was: it's all exe-
race which overlooked the river, with cution ; the language, or articulation,
the shipping upon it, and the Cheshire as it were, of the musical sounds, is
lands, and the Denbighshire hills. Se quite lost in a brilliant rattle: this leads
veral village spires too, were quite visi- to a neglect of the great rule of time,
ble along the pleasant banks of the Mer- and makes sad discord when you are,
sey; and then you might see the long (or rather should be,) playing in con-
trains of smoke that followed the tracks cert. Perhaps the new-fangled system
of the various steam-boats that plied of Logier may, in some degree, remove
between the different ferries. All these the defect; although, in other respects,
things, Mr Mizzletoe, make me enjoy it be something like Mr Owen's plan,
the quiet sensations of the country, after for making a whole community hun-
plodding behind a druggist's counter gry at the same moment, and all like
for thirty-five years, and seeing nothing the same kind of gravy to their pota-
but dray-men's carts and stand-coaches, toes. The best of it was, they asked
through the painted bottles in my shop- me to sing, and as I felt quite at home,
window. They give the tea, too, a great as it were, I gave them the following
relish ; although I don't like the mo- pretty little sentimental piece, which
dern genteel custom of drinking your Mr Snipthread, the tailor in Bond-
tea from the cup, which renders the street, presented me with before I left
saucer a perfect dead letter, as it were, London: I think it will suit Mrs
and eternally causes you to scald your Mizzletoe's voice: it's to the old tune
throat, which is very bad for the inside, of “ Down amang the hether, lassie :"
as Dr Buchan says, in his chapter on
liquids, and, moreover, creating a most
SOME years ago, there lived a swain,
That vore a fustian jacket, 0);
uncomfortable perspiration; so that And, as he trudged along the lane,
tea, which is generally supposed to be He met vith Dolly Thompson, 0.
a cooling beverage, has, as it were, di, Her eyes vere green,—her hair vas red,
rectly the opposite tendency. And And charmingly she squinted, 0;
then, as I am, that is, was an apothe- And wery much, the people said,
eary, it would make you chink to see She liked her vater porridge, 0.
the bread and butter, as they call it. And so it vas, ven Billy spied
Why, sir, I could take it in my fingers Her clogs and scarlet flannel, 0,-
and blow it like a feather ; it's thinner Stock-still he stood, and vould have died
than a bank-note, and I'd be bound to Of love, but he vas married, 0.


382
The Fisherman's Budget. No. II.
[July,
3
His eye-lids vink'd, his heart went pat, ladder, and get through the window,
And wery much he trembled, 0, or take him by escalade, as he called
He viped his mouth
and doft'd his hat, it; but did not like such an experi-
And put his right leg forwards, 0.
ment. At last we got comfortably roost-
Vell,—as the wery vords arose,
ed, and, till I fell asleep, I could not
That vere to voo his Dolly, 0,
help reflecting on the false idea which
She put her vinger to her nose,
I with many others had cogitated, that
And pull’d a vace at Billy, 0. extravagance and dissipation were the
Vat love vill do, there's none can tell,-
usual accompaniments of wealth, and
But Billy sadly gro-a-1-e-d, O!
that there is less real enjoyment among
Then turn'd his back, rush'd to a vell, the rich and the exalted, than among
And jump'd into the bottom, 0 ! themiddling and poorer classes, where
as the day had afforded an example of
It was late when we got to the inn, unbounded liberality, withouta drachm
and I was greatly provoked at being of profuseness ; displaying likewise a
obliged to relinquish my own bed to a beautiful instance of ceremonial and
stupid corn-factor that had mistaken fashion, with a train of innocent and
the room, and was snoring so terrific rational qualifications, but qualifica-
cally, that all the thumping of all the tions infinitely enhanced by the re-
chamber-maids, and the civil entreaties fined taste and cultivated deportment
of Mrs Verble, were of none effect. I of their promoter, as it were. I am,
did not so much mind the bed, but we
Dear Mr Mizzletoe
were obliged to borrow night-caps and
Your assured friend,
other necessary apparel from the land-
NEBUZARHADDON VERBLE
lady. My nephew wanted to have a
FROM EDWARD ASHBY, ESQ. OF ST. JOHN'S COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE,
TO HIS FRIEND FREDERICK FERRIMOND, ESQ.
MY DEAR FRIEND,
Professor forms,-few in which such
You would naturally expect, from complete enjoyment was regulated by
the tenor of my last letter, that I such decorous propriety, --in which
should ere this have been comfortably humour had so much latitude with so
lodged in your antiquated mansion at little indelicacy. Yet, at this particu-
Aldhame; but circumstances, that will lar period, company, however fasci.
presently be explained, have unavoid nating, was but irksome and unplea-
ably prevented my visit, and to them sant; and I was anxious to withdraw
I must refer you for my apology, from a scene which had so little to in-
At the Professor's I found some terest my feelings. I therefore made
dozen of our men assembled. The my escape at the first opportunity,
jealousy of competitorship was over, and, as I thought, unnoticed by the
and all were vehement in congratula Professor; but I had searcely closed
ting me on the day's success. The din the door, when I was requested by a
ner was excellent, and Leighton pro servant to return. The Professor was
pounced the wines to be a positively in the small room on the left side the
elegant.” Joe Beauclerc, “that fellow passage, where you and I, as the school
of infinite wit,” scattered his jokes in phrase goes, have so often funck'd. He
such bountiful profusion, that even the took my hand as I entered, and said,
mathematical propriety of our host's with a more kindly manner than he
visage was somewhat discomposed. had ever before evinced, “Mr Ashby,
These are the moments, my dear Fred. you have done me the honour to ac-
in which the heart enlarges the grasp quaint me with your motives in ra-
of its affections, and the sparkling signing, for the present, your acade-
liquor loses its lustre in the brighter mical pursuits. Sincerely as I regret,"
current of fellowship and wit. But he was pleased to say, " the necessity
amongst the various circles to which which obliges you to leave us, I yet
my pursuits have introduced me, I cannot but applaud the determination
have found few that are so peculiarly which induces you to do so. Your
distinguished for “mirth that after no plans are probably determined upon ;
repenting draws” as those which the but the bearty blessings of an old man


1921.]
The Fisherman's Budget. No. II.
383
will be no burden to your undertaking, cord in true four-in-hand style, tipped
and if, in its progress, you may be in me a significant wink, and swore by
want of more substantial assurances Semele he would beat me three miles
of my friendship, do not do not on a trot. I did not undeceive him ;
acruple to apply to me, Mr Ashby-I and
he sprang forwards on the seat,
will not deceive you." I uttered my shewing his well-made scarlet coatee
broken acknowledgments as well as and extended elbow to “ the primest
I could; but, indeed, Ferrimond, I advantage,” and making a variety of
little anticipated such kindness. If dexterous manæuvres with his silver-
the bias of a partial friendship—if the headed whip. They were in a span-
unlooked for succour of a kind-heart- new Tilbury:- Wholoses? _Good gra-
ed stranger, can excite such sensations cious, to think how these paltry grati-
in the breast, what, what have I to fications, so infinitely beneath the dig-
expect from the unvaried enjoyment nity of an educated mind, and so fo.
of parental favour from the respon- reign to the purposes of an university
sive interchanges of affection and of life, can supersede the more honoura-
kindred ?
ble exertions of intellectual vigour, and
The remnant of the evening was compensate the pursuer for the envia-
fully occupied in arranging the various ble distinction of being the most no-
apperidages of my travelling apparatus, torious ass in the whole community.
and in penning the necessary remem-
As I slowly rode along the quad-
brances to my collegiate acquaintance; rangle, I saw that Weber's night-taper
nor did I neglect, ere, for the last time, still glimmered in the socket, so that
I reposed within that peaceful edifice, tó he had not been an early emigrant
implore the blessing of Almighty God from the festive board. Poor Weber :
on my exertions, and the necessary his reading never cost him much can-
guidance of his Spirit to direct me in dle-light. I thought the heavy gates
the way: And methinks, my dear of St John's never turned so heavily
Frederick, if there be any foundation on their hinges, and that its antiquated
for that moral superintendence which pile never appeared: half so venerable
is attributed to our great Creator, the before. I fear, I fear, my true Pylades,
object that I have in view, embracing, that let me be fortunate to my heart's
as it does, one of the most holy and content in this my undertaking, there
most acceptable principles of our im. is no spot that will concentrate within
perfect nature, may claim, in humility it so much real happiness, so much
be it spoken, the especial protection pure satisfaction, as the quiet, social,
of his providence.
captivating cloisters of this beloved
college.
Non Siculæ dapes
It was noon when I arrived at Dr
Dulcem elaborabunt saporem ;
Non avium, citharæque cantus,
Winton's, and my worthy friend was
Somnum reducent,
anxiously expecting me. Do you know
I was quite delighted at the alacrity he
says our great high priest, and so in- displayed in the service of an old p1-
deed I found it. Long before the gun pil. After partaking of some refresh-
was “peeping from his window of the ment, we set off in his old-fashioned
east," I was fully accoutred for my gig for the pretty little village of Crox®
journey. At five, Ralph was at the ton. When we got to the foot of the
door with my chesnut tit, and I con walk that leads directly through the
fess I was gratified by the friendly in-' garden, old Arthur Ashby was sitting
terest which even he expressed in my at the door of his white-washed cote
welfare. I accompanied a hearty shake tage: one hand rested upon the large
of the old man's hand with a small family Bible which was spread upon
memorial of my thanks, and was in the his knees, and his pale forehead, over
act of mounting, when Tom Fetter and which were scattered the hoary em-
his friend drove past the hall in fine blems of a good old age, reclined-up-
style. Lord B.'s long-talked-of match on the other. His appearance was
was to be decided that morning; and singularly interesting, and unwilling
as such weighty subjects are upper- to disturb him abruptly, we stole as
most in Tom's class paper, he ima- quietly as possible to his side. I laid
gined that I was bound for the same my hand gently upon his arın, and
destination. Tom cracked his whip- said" My dear father, I hope you
VOL. IX.
3 B


384
The Fisherman's Budget. No. II.
[July,
are well.” It would be difficult to de- country at a moment's warning; and
termine whether surprise or pleasure what to him was the most heart-rend.
was most visibly depicted in the old ing circumstance, to leave behind him
man's countenance ! but, after transie, a beloved wife, then about to give
ently surveying me from head to foot, birth to an infant. The shock of this
he ferventlyexclaimed "God be mere occurrence, and the grief which it oca
ciful to thee, my son ; though surely casioned, brought on prematurely the
may I doubt whether thou art indeed pangs of labour, and your unhappy
my son, seeing the days and years that mother expired at the moment which
have elapsed since thou camest to this ushered you into the world. Mr Veil,
place, and the changes which these ton, with whom your parent had taken
eyes behold, now that the frail figure, refuge, caused inquiries to be made
of thy youth hath yielded to the among the tenantry on this estate, and
strength and comeļiness of manhood.” learning that my wife had recently
The rumour of our greetings speedi- buried her infant, he immediately de-
ly reached the cars of the daine, who termined to place you under her care.
was engaged in the cottage; nor do I Je had a deed prepared, in his pocket,
think the expressions of her joy would by which this cottage, and a small
yet have been exhausted, had not my proportion of land, were thencefor.
friendly Doctor interposed, and men- ward settled on me for life ; and if
tioned that important concerns were you attained the age of seven years, I
connected with our visit. We all was then directed to write to him for
therefore adjourned to the house, and further instructions concerning you.
after bearing testimony to the goodness And sure enough you did; and as good,
of my mother's larder, (for mother I and generous, and fine a lad, as ever
must'ever call her,) and the excellence played upon the green, the joy of my
of her cowslip wine, I briefly detailed life, and the comfort of
my
old dame
to old Arthur the object that I had in there. But I knew that I had a duty
view. His eyes, whilst I spoke, were to perform, and though I grieved sore-
stedfastly fixed upon ine, and when I ly at the thoughts of parting with you,
declared my determination of seeking yet I felt that you were destined for a
out my parents, or assuring myself of superior state than could fall to your
their fate, a strong feeling, as of sor, lot in this place, and I therefore wrote,
row, pervaded his countenance. This as directed, to Mr Veilton. In a short
however shortly passed away; and he time I received instructions to place
complied with my wishes in nearly the you with Dr Winton, and it was like-
following words:
wise intimated that funds were pro-
“ Indeed, Edward, I have long fore- vided for your support. There was
seen that this moment would assuredly one thing, nevertheless, that often
arrive, notwithstanding I did not think disquieted the dame and me, and it
it my duty to disturb the easy tenour was the injunction we received to call
of your life by disclosures which could you by our own name, and never to
not but be painful. Yet the task you acquaint you with the real circum.
have undertaken is a holy and a good stances of your birth. But I could not
one, nor can the brief remnant of my bring myself to comply with that part
days be more righteously employed of my charge; for although I might
than in forwarding its happy termina- be proud to have you considered as my
tion, About two and twenty years own Edward, and be fearful of dis-
since my cottage was visited by Mr obliging one to whom I owe so much,
Veilton, who is a member of the legal yet my conscience told me there was a
profession at Whitehaven, and like heart that would silently yearn upon
wise the owner of this estate. It was you as its own, and that God, in his
late in the evening when he arrived, own good time, would satisfy its cra-
and an elderly female who had the vings ! And I can appeal with silent
care of you, accompanied him. He satisfaction to the records of my own
requested a private interview with mind, since I have faithfully dischar-
me, and the subject of his disclosure ged the trust that was committed unto
was this: that your father, who was a me, and can now lay my grey hairs
retired officer and a catholic, had un with honour in the grave.
happily become conneeted with the I need not tell you, my dear Fred.
discontented leaders in Ireland ; that with what breathless anxiety I listened
he was compelleil to fly from the to this narrative: nay, the good Doce


1891.]
The Fisherman's Budget. No. II.
385
<6
tor himself might have been personally their extensive property having been
interested in it; whilst the sobs of the privately disposed of, and the proceeds
affectionate dame were more or less transınitted abroad. But this Veil-
audible from behind the kerchief with ton is a long-headed fellow, and the
which she covered her face, as the cir- utmost caution will be requisite. You
cumstances of my history reminded must proceed directly to Whitehaven,
her of scenes gone by. When she found, and there, if possible, obtain some ti-
however, that Arthur had concluded, dings of the female that brought you
she sharply exclaimed, “But the box, hither an infant. From her you may
the box !" and he as hastily rejoined, perchance learn whether your parent is
'Yes, yes; how could I forget the still in existence, or, at all events, the
-box." He went to the other side of original place of his destination. Yet,
the apartment, and unlocking an oaken you cannot be too wary, my dear Ed-
escrutoire, took from it a small case, ward, and it will be but cominon pru-
covered with red morocco, and secured dence to assume a fictitious name.
by a gold clasp. “ These," said he, Suppose, therefore, you take Ferri-
"I must not forget; the elderly female, mond's; I am sure he will pardon the
who I said accompanied Mr Veilton, use of it-or-or, why not take mine?
slipped them into my hand ere she left the child of my sister has now the best
the cottage, and bid me be careful to claim to it, and you can pass for my
preserve them. She returned with her son ; at all events," said he, “ cheering-
master to Whitehaven, but shortly af- ly, till I am obliged to resign you to your
terwards withdrew from the place, and father.” Every thing was speedily ar-
I am told, has never since been heard ranged ; we returned to the vicarage to
of." Whilst Arthur was mention- dinner, and I leave this evening by the
ing these additional circumstances, the mail ; for I shall not rest till my
Doctor was examining the contents of doubts are satisfied. The interval (Í
the casquet. There were several orna- have employed incommunicating these
ments of jewellery, and a small minia- particulars to you, and knowing, as I do,
ture, suspended from a gold chain. that you will continue to indulge the
But how shall I express my astonish- most anxious interest in my proceed-
ment on seeing him start from his seat, ings, I shall regularly write you a de-
survey the miniature for a moment, tail of them, although, under present
and then press it in ecstacy to his lips. circumstances, it will be most prudent
“My dear, dear boy,” said he, "look to direct to me, under cover, to my
on that likeness : it is the portrait of newly-acquired uncle.
your blessed mother, my long-lost, In the meantime, I am, as ever,
long-lamented sister. The truth must
Sincerely yours,
soon be manifested. I have been de EDWARD ASHBY, alias WINTON.
ceived by a story of her having accom-
panied your father in his flight, and of Fred. Ferrimond, Esq.
TRANSLATIONS FROM THE LESS FAMILIAR LATIN CLASSICS.
No. VII.
CLAUDIAN.
To CHRISTOPHER NORTH, Esq.
DEAR SIR,
opens the poems of Claudian in the
I do not know whether or not it has hope of discovering something nearly
been favourable, upon the whole, to approaching the best efforts of the
the reputation of Claudian, that he Augustan age, will be disappointed to
was the last of the classic poets, and find an imitator where he expected a
shone, like the flame of a lonely watch- rival. The diction of this poet is, per-
tower, upon the very verge of an ocean haps, his most remarkable feature.
of darkness. If his merits have been Living at a time when all elegant li-
over-rated, this has probably been one terature was about to sink into the
of the causes of their being so.
It is “dead sea" of barbarous verbal meta.
never ultimately the interest of any physics, and the intolerant phantasies
poet to be over-praised ; and he who of a disputatious theology, he emu-


386
from the less familiar Latin Classics. [July,
Translations
lates, with no mean success, the cor- decided whether or not he was a Chris
rectness and melody, and sometimes tian, unless an epigram or two, of very
simplicity, of Virgil. His style, no questionable authenticity, are to be
doubt, exhibits some flagrant ex- taken for proofs, in default of better.
amples of those artificial turns of The want of interest under which the
thought, which have been stigmatized subjects of most of his pieces now ne-
as “ conceits," but much fewer than cessarily labour, is certainly a great
might have been expected from the disadvantage to Claudian. We can
æra in which he wrote. His language, take part with Achilles, or Hector, or
however, is his best part. His style, Cæsar, or Pompey, or Brutus, or Octa-
in the extended sense of the word, is vius, but who knows or cares any thing
much more correct than original. The about the fortunes of Stilicho, or Gil-
strength of his poetical talent is not in do, or the “ Bellum Geticum," or the
the ratio of his good taste. He suc- destruction of Rufinus, or the merits
ceeds best in the light and fanciful, or demerits of Eutropius the eunuch?
and worst in those themes which re The concluding stanzas of the transla-
quire power and vigour. Hence his tion of the Fescenninu, attempted be-
Raptus Proserpind" is perhaps his low, are only a distant paraphrase of
happiest poem, and his least happy ef- 'the original. ' For this you will hardly
fort the fragment of the “Giganto- require an apology. In selections like
machia.” The last mentioned is, in the foregoing, it is often more difficult
truth, merely bombastical common than may be at first imagined, to find
place, and the “cætera desiderantur," a piece which shall at once be a fair
the common editorial note at the con. specimen of the poet, interesting to
clusion of all such“ membra disjecta," the general reader, and fit to be trans-
is, in this case, a most disputable po- lated.
sition. He is so elaborately classical
I am, &c.
in his writings, as to have left it un-
T. D.
OX ONE WHO HAD NEVER LEFT HIS HOME.
The fields, that were his early joy,
Still please his eye, with age though dim,
That home, his world while yet a boy,
Is still-blest lot a world to him.
Years have rollid on, at Time's command,
And still his little cot hath smiled,
Though now his staff indents the sand
On which he totter'd when a child.
Content, he heeds nor fortune's changes,
Nor fates of conquerors, nor kings;
O'er no untrodden realms he ranges,
He drinks of no forbidden springs.
From treach'rous seas no wealth he draws;
His peace no trumpet's clang alarms;
The Forum meets-he hath no cause;
Harmless he lives, and free from harms.
Unknowing aught that cities own,
Or grandeur's smile, or misery's sigh,
What boots it? he hath better known
The beautiful of earth and sky.
No Consulates his years design,
No calendar computes his hours;
But autumn's chronicled in wine,
And pranksome springtime writ in flowers,


1821.)
Translations from the less familiar Latin Classics.
387
His day one dial measures still,
It's simple rule he ne'er forgets
His Phæbus rises from yon hill,
Beneath yon neighbour hill he sets.
The sturdy oak, whose shade he loves,
He well recals a sapling slim;
He is coeval with the groves,
And feels his trees grow old with him.
Thrice blest! Though old Verona's pride
Be strange, as is the torrid zone,
And smooth Benacus' flow'ry side,
As Pharaoh's sea, to thee, unknown.
If time nor ill nor sorrow bring,
Small need hast thou of sights like these,
Who see'st thy children's children cling,
And climb about their grandsire's knees.
Who scales the Alps, or skims the ocean,
Still toiling, still immersed in strife,
More than thou dost, may know of motion,
Thou, haply, more than he of life.
FESCENNINE VERSES
On the Nuptials of Honorius.
I.
O Prince!-more fair than Venus' star
Amid the dimmer orbs of night,
Who, deadlier than the Parthian far,
Canst draw the bow with guileful might,
Canst wind the fiery steed at will,
With more than a Gelonian skill,
How shall the poet praises find
To paint thy body and thy mind?
Leda had rather suckled thee
Than Castor, star of chivalry;
Thetis in thee had found more joy
Than in her own unconquer'd boy ;
Delos, when thee she once hath seen,
Shall worship less her Phæbus' mien,
And Lydia deem thee more divine
Than e'en her rosy God of wine :
For when, in exercise' full pride,
Fearless thou thread'st the forest wide,
And the wind wantons in thy hair,
And the awed lion leaves his lair,
Yet seems a dying pride to feel
When he hath sunk beneath thy steel,
Venus, enslaved, forgets her truth,
Pledged to the hapless hunter youth,
And Cynthia feels redoubled pain,
More pale than for her Virbius slain.'
When, the day's heat and labour o'er,
Thy languid limbs at rest are laid,
Beneath the arching sycamore,
Or some sequester'd cavern's shade ;


388
Translations from the less familiar Latin Classics.
[July,
And thou hast not forbid to creep
Upon thy lids th' officious sleep,
How many a watching nymph shall pine,
And wish her glance were met by thine;
How many a Naiad steal the bliss
That's hidden in a secret kiss !
What though, in Scythian realms, afar,
The overawed barbarian bow
And drop his implements of war
At sight of that commanding brow,-
And, on his undefended plains,
Resignedly receive thy chains
Go—if thy unslaked courage wills,
'Mid wintry Caucasus' hoar hills,
Go-where the frozen plains obey
The Amazon,-more cold than they ;
And, careless of her Sire and Name,
At length the haughty virgin dame,
The proud Hyppolite, shall yield
To thee her yet unconquer'd shield,
And, sighing--though the trumpet sound-
Chop her keen axe upon
the
ground-
What violence could never move,
Shall melt before the touch of Love ;
- Happy, beyond the tongue of verse,
Could she but match in such a line;
For blest is she, who calls thee her's,
Thrice blest, when thou shalt call her thine.
II.
Oh! let the Spring, that was in haste to go,
Fly to return, and gild this happy day;
In liquid music let the waters flow,
And sweeter cadence ring from every spray:
Smile, ye Ligurian plains-smile, festive Rome;
Ye hills, let sunny wreathes your brows inclose,
Amid your Alpine peaks, let roses bloom,
And lend their blushes to the virgin snows.
O'er Adige' wave the coral measure floats,
And Mincius, as his winding stream he leads,
Is listening to the joy-rebounding notes,
And scarcely whispers to his trembling reeds.
It echoes down the alder-fringed Po;
Old Tiber dances at the joyous sound ;
And at her lordly master's nuptials, lo !
Rome's stately towers with smiling chaplets crown'd!
Let the far land, from whence our hero sprung-
The fervid skies of wild and distant Spain
Let that famed hall, with early laurels hung,
Hear and re-echo the triumphant strain.
Thence came thy siremthy sire, when thou hast plighted
Thy troth, sweet Bride-thence, Prince, thy mother caine ;
Now, like two streams that meet, long disunited,
Your race shall flow in one continued fame.


1921.]
Translations from the less familiar Latin Classics.
389
.
Ye groves of Bætis, smile a brighter green;
Thou, Tagus, roll in all thy pride of gold;
King of your line-beneath the blue serene,
Let Ocean his paternal orgies hold.
Realms of the West and East--your toils forget ;
Let wine and mirth your every hour employ;
Let Phoebus, from his rising till he sets
Laugh to see nothing on his way but joy : :
And thou, rude North-wind, wither not one wreath,
Be still thou East-nor thou, O ! South, arise,
But let young Zephyr, only, dare to breathe,
In breath as gentle as the lover's sighs.
III.
Yea, Stilicho, thy whitening hair
Is wont the shining casque to wear;
But lay thy frowning helmet down,
And put thee on a festive crown;
No longer with the trumpets' sound
The palace' blazing arches ring;
The torch that Hymnen loves to bring
Hath sprinkled its bland light around ;
Those charms, which erst thou took’st away,
Again thou giv'st, this happy day,
- Let malice rage—but vainly still
Let
envy
take what hue she will.
What erst Serena was to thee,
Shall Mary to Honorius be.
IV.
Lo! Hesper, how, to Venus dear
His silvery-shining lamp he rears;
He marks the blushing virgin's fear,
And smiles to see her maiden tears.
Yes; sooth her, bridegroom.-Well he knows,
Though smiles for such an hour were meeter,
These tears, like dew-drops to the rose,
Shall make her morning lip the sweeter.
He, of the thorni must take no heed,
Who would not let the bud go free;
And he, who would on honey feed,
Must never mark the angry bee.
As, when the rain-clouds make retreat,
The sudden day seems doubly clear,
So, there can be no kiss so sweet
As one that's usher'd by a tear.
“ War, I have known thee," shalt thou cry,
“ The humbled foe--the victor's bliss;
But never flash'd young warrior's eye
For conquest half so blest as this."
Love, on thy couch, himself enthrones ;
Reveal him-for he made ye once
And hear her tongue respond, in tones
That silence' self might doat upon.


390.
from the less fumiliar Latin Classics.
Translations
[July,
Speak him- in many a broken sigh ;
Breathe all affection's holiest balm ;-
Oh! clasp, with more of constancy
Than e'er the ivy clasp'd the palm.
And when her languid lids shall close,
And in oblivious bliss she lies,
Thy breath-like sleep's shall shed repose
Úpon her silken-fringed eyes.
-At the first peep of blushing morn,
The joyous strain shall be renew'd,
And gladness on each brow be worn,
And mirth unlaced, and garlands strew'd.
Nymphs-grant the smile, extend the hand;
Swains--warriors-put on all your pride;
Winds waft the voice, from land to land,
“ Honorius hath brought home his bride."
BYE-PAST TIME.
The sky is blue, the sward is green,
The leaf upon the bough is seen,
The wind comes from the balmy west,
The little songster builds its nest,
The bee hums on from flower to flower,
Till twilight's dim and pensive hour;
The joyous year arrives; but when
Shall bye-past times come back again ?
I think on childhood's glowing years-
How soft, low bright, the scene appears!
How calm, how cloudless, pass d away
The long, long, summer holiday!
I may not muse-I must not dream-
Too beautiful these visions seem
For earth and mortal man ; but when
Shall bye-past times come back again?
I think of sunny eves so soft,
Too deeply felt, enjoy'd too oft,
When through the bloomy fields I roved
With her, the earliest, dearest lovel;
Around whose form I yet survey,
In thought, a bright celestial ray
To present scenes denied ; and when
Shall bye-past times come back again ?
Alas! the world at distance seen
Appear'd all blissful and serene,
An Eden, form'd to tempt the foot,
With crystal streams, and golden fruit;
That world, when tried and trod, is found
A rocky waste, a thorny ground !
We then revert to youth ; but when
Shall bye-past times come back again?
A.
15


399
[July,
Early Affection.
EARLY AFFECTION.
A
When all the joys arise to mind,
Which we, beloved, have shared together ;
And Recollection looks behind
To youth's serene, and sunny weather ;
No wonder-girt with gloom around
With frowning clouds of care and sadness,
#, while I think of thee, my mind
Hangs o'er the very verge of madness !
The dream of bliss that lull'd us then,
By dark reality unbroken,
Ere Disappointment proved her den
Was earth, by many a bitter token,
Oft, as I ponder o'er the past,
Awakens in primeval glory,
Glowing, magnificent, o'ercast
With splendour, like an eastern story.
The bloom that hangs upon the tree
Is strewn by tempests in derision;
The flower, that opens to the bee,
Is only for a passing season ;
Even so the spring-tide of the heart,
And love that speaks of pleasures only,
Like rainbows gleam, and so depart,
With all their light, to leave us lonely.
But thou hast changed not-stedfastly
Thy mind hath stood, and alter'd never ,
And storms have pass'd unheeded by,
Unbeard, or disregarded ever;
Like clouds that sail before the moon,
With momentary haze obscuring
Its silver orb, but passing soon,
To leave its beauty more alluring.
The happy days that once were ours,
Can never rise again before us,
Nor Autumn's sunny evening hours
Cast such a glowing mantle o'er us;
Nor Summer shower a beauty round,
As erst it shower'd on field and meadow;
Nor such a holy calm be found
In Evening's dark delicious shadow,
But come what may, earth cannot be
The seat or scene of hapless sorrow,
To him, whose soul is bent from thee
Its store of happiness to borrow;
In all thy woes to bear a part,
In all thy pleasures to attend thee,
And feel that never from his heart
Can aught that ever happens rend thee.
And still I would not give, my sweet.
One hour that finds me hang about thee,
For all the treasures at my feet
That worlds beside could lend without thee;
So fondly, firmly, intertwined
With thee, are all my dreams of pleasure ;


1921.1
Early Affection.
Thou art the idol of my mind.
My heart's desire, and secret treasure.
Then come what may-thou wilt not leave
My heart in solitude to languish,
To sadly pine, and vainly grieve,
Amid mankind, in lonely anguish :
No, but the earth a home of love
Will surely be to him, who borrows
From thee, all fickle change above,
A more than solace for his sorrows.
AN ESSAY ON THE SENTIMENTS OF ATTRACTION, ADAPTATION,
AND VARIETY.
The object of this Essay is to illus- tions of the will, and which, although
trate the nature of contemplative sen., they are felt within the limits of its
timent, as opposed to sensation and own being, are no part of its nature ;
sensual perception. It is intended to neither is the feeling of the abstract
define the modes of sentiment, and to beautiful to be found in the hazy una
render the different tendencies of these certainty of natural feeling; but in the
modes perceptible, by seeking for sym- unchangeable relations of intellectual
bols of them in the visible creation. form. But the metaphysicians of this
We mean not, in this article, to en- country have, for the most part, shewn
ter into criticism, but only to make no inclination to recognise, bring into
known to the public the purport of view, or confess submission to those an-
this short metaphysical disquisition, cient truths which have been the tra-
which is expressed in concise and ex- ditional, oriental root of true philoso-
act language. We shall, therefore, ra- phy, in all ages, and without which
ther make extracts from it, than take the study of metaphysics is but a la-
the trouble of going over the same borious exercise of opinion, without
thing in different words. His mode belief, and destitute of beginning or
of thinking being different from that end.
which is exemplified in most of the The different tendencies of senti-
metaphysical writings of this country, ment are best perceived by that inter-
the writer of this Essay uses some nal transparency of mind which results
combinations of language, which may from the love of the ideal, to which
sound new, although they are easily every thing in the Essay we are about
intelligible, and fitted to extend the to quote from, has more or less refere
range of thought among metaphysical ence. However, the inquiry into the
inquirers. But some of the modes of differences of contemplative sentiment,
expression used have reference to the is begun from emotion of love or be-
philosophy of antiquity. For instance, nevolence felt towards particular exis-
the words “ idea" and “ ideal" are tences. This emotion is spoken of
used throughout, in the ancient sense, under the name of mental attraction,
that is to say, to express, not any act which is almost the only new term
of the mind, or the conception or re- used in the book. But the word “ love"
membrance of the particular, but only would have been too indefinite, as it
to signify the abstract forms known by may either signify benevolence in ge-
intellect. The best beginning of philo- neral, or the feeling between the sexes,
sophy is from a strong feelingof the con- or'even natural affection, or consocia-
trast between moveable and particular ted attachment and friendship. It was
being, and the fixed qualities of pure therefore necessary to chuse a word for
idea. The mind's own nature being expressing abstractedly contemplative
moveable and particular, and destitute emotion felt towards particular exis-
of certainty in its natural feelings, it tences.
can only find the origin of morality in “ The nature of contempplative emotion
the internal consciousness of ideas in- may easily be discriminated from that of
capable of being altered by the opera. voluntary action ; for active power always
• By William Howison. 12mo. Blackwoyd, Edinburgh, 1821.


394 Essay on the Sentiments of Attraction, Aduptation, and Variety. (July,
takes the origin of its motion from within But if all emotions of attraction were to-
the mind; but contemplative feeling re- wards a centre, or towards different centres,
ceives the origin of its movement when the then the character and modes of being in
mind is drawn towards what exists beyond individual existences would not produce
itself. Therefore, in speaking of that feel- any corresponding emotion, and the emo-
ing of contemplative love or benevolence, tion of love felt towards all objects would
which draws forth the mind towards ob- be alike, except as to unity and plurality.
jects separate from itself, it will be con. The emotions of imitative attraction, how-
venient to call it the sentiment of mental ever, are felt to have reference to extension
attraction.
and character.
“ The sentiment of single attraction is as
in the head of the soul, flying first, and
As material atoms, in obeying attraction, stretching foremost towards the object con-
shew themselves affected by existences templated. The sentiment of variety, which
whose active power is so far distant that it turns the mind aside, is as in each shoulder.
But, the sentiment of adaptation is as in
can exchange no impulses with theirs, so
mental attraction or love, exemplifies a si- the hair, which, being moveable, flowing,
milar movement, which implies no more
and easily agitated, feels imitative attrac-
than the existence of the object contem- tion, and spreads out according to the ex-
tension and character of what is contem-
plated ; and therefore this sentiment en-
plated.”
ables the mind to experience the influence
of the universe, by a continued feeling of
From these observations concerning
connection with existences which stand be the nature of contemplative emotion
yond the reach of contrary action.
felt towards particular existences, a
“ The emotion of mental attraction is transition is made to the sentiment of
not all of one kind, but refers to the nature hope, or the love of the infinite, an
of the objects contemplated, and may be emotion which might be felt although
discriminated into three different modes of the mind were left quite alone.
feeling. The first is, single attraction, “ Besides the sentiments of single al-
which causes contemplative love to tend to- traction, adaptation, and variety, (which
wards individuality, and seek for a centre, apply only to particular objects separate
or heart in the object which is contempla- from the mind,) there is farther, in human
ted. The second is adaptation, or imitative nature, a sentiment of height and increase,
feeling, which refers to the movements, ex- which draws the mind away from the in-
tension, and character of what is contem. fluence of limited and particular objects,
plated, and enables the mind to feel an and expands it with the love of the perma-
agreeable emotion in accommodating itself nent and infinite. The relation of this as-
to the nature of the object upon which its cending sentiment to unity is religious sen-
attention is fixed. The thirci is the senti- timent by nature, and its relation to exten-
ment of varicty, or the feeling of differing sion is the sentiment of hope, or the love
attraction, which turns and transfers the of the infinite, and of abstract form or idea.
attention of the mind, and makes it feel In the feelings of human nature, height
separate particular being. The sentiments and increase are conjoined ; and it is evi-
of single attraction and adaptation, being dent that hope tends along with time, and
closely connected, both naturally apply accords neither with the love of the past,
themselves to unity. But the sentiment of nor with descending or diminution. The
variety is of a different kind, and is capable sentiment of hope cannot rest upon any of
of being felt along with the two first, but those finite quantities perceived in objects
as subordinate to them.
of sense, but is capable of being affected,
“ In the material world, all objects that through the senses, by objects expressing
have size enough to make them perceptible proportions and gradations of quantity;
to the senses, are of an aggregated nature; and, from this, the feeling of the beauty of
but an existence is truly individual when it abstract form, and also of harmony, seems
contains only one source of active power. to arise. Harmony, which depends upon
Therefore, individuality is never distinctly the fixed proportions of finite quantities,
shewn, except in the will of living beings, (as upon the proportion of the individual
which is a manifestation of active power pulsations in different musical tones,) car-
proceeding from a single and separate ries the mind out of finite quantities in
The Epicureari philosophy, by perceiving their proportion; as is also felt
feigning the mind to be an aggregated and in seeing the proportions of light in the
complex existence, denied the actions of rainbow. Thus, the sentiment of hope,
living beings to be manifestations of true which seeks after the infinite, produces al-
individuality.
so the desire of feeling abstract and per-
“ But the sentiment of single attraction manent relations.
which seeks always for a centre, or heart, “ But the sentiments of single attraction,
is felt to apply properly to objects which adaptation, and variety, refer only to move-
are truly individual, like living beings. able and particular existences, situated be-
source.


1821.) Essay on the Sentiments of Attraction, Adaptation, and Variety. 395
yond the mind. They are, therefore, out- mind, in contemplating external objects,
ward affections, and if the sentiment of has a strong feeling of distance and retro-
single attraction be as the head of the soul, cession, it is a sign of the emotion of at-'
and imitative emotion as the hair, the sen- traction. Allegory conjoins the love of the
timent of hope which depends upon purity finite and particular with the love of the in-
and breath of internal fecling is as within finite, and seeks to multiply ideal resem-
the chest and shoulders, and there exerts blances of the particular, or rather seeks to
its lifting tendency.
escape altogether from the bounds of the
** From hope spring the powers of im- particular, in feeling its union with the in-
agination, which are the wings of the soul, finite. This is the perfection of love.
springing from the shoulders. Imagina “ Discriminative judgment proceeds up-
tion is not like love or attraction, an affec on the feeling of separate attraction ; but
tion felt towards particular objects, but is another movement of the judging powers is
rather a sort of voluntary action, or waving wit, in which they are applied to judge of
of the wings, through which the soul seeks the difference between the feeling of the
to feel the varied forms of the ideal, by particular, and the ideas found by the im-
passing motion. As the sentiment of hope agination.
is the love of the infinite, so the powers of " Another act of the judging powers is
imagination are employed in taking a tem. tracing the motion of the sentiment of
porary hold of the finite ideal, and turning single attraction, as it follows after one ob-
the mind by the transient conception of ject. This is like pursuing sameness into
what is not within its own being.
different circumstances, and produces that
“ It may be easily perceived, that ima- consecutiveness of opinion which shews
gination, which feels after the ideal, is not reasons deductively, and by inference, or
the same as the sentiment of variety of at- carrying sameness into different circum-
traction, which feels the differing influences stances.
of moveable and particular objects.
“ The lion, whose head is instinctively
swayed and made to follow after moveable
“ The relation of the mind to objects
objects, is the symbol of attraction, or the of sense is only a relation to their exte-
love of the moveable and particular. And rior power ; as the perceptions of the or
the ancients emblematically represented (which is the symbol of touch and resist-
Love as riding upon a lion, not to signify ance) apply only to the continuous surface
that Love subdues all living creatures, but
over which it browses.
because the lion is the symbol of attraction
" The sensations received by the eyes
between separate being.'
and the ears apply themselves to those
From the consideration of the con-
templative sentiment, a transition is known directly by the mind, and render
permanent and abstract forms, which are
made into another subject, which is them perceptible, by filling them with ob-
not mentioned in the title-page, name- jective causes of feeling. The cause of
ly, opinion, or the active power of feeling is moveable and particular, but the
judgment, as contrasted with abstract form is otherwise. The mind has always a
vision.
field of vacant vision, which it is capable of
“ Such being the modes of attraction, it knowing, by its own existence, without any
is necessary next to speak of the powers of feeling of contrary action. And the mind
judgment, which are the hands of the soul, sees abstract relations best, without sensa-
the most moveable part, and capable, as it tion ; as the owl (which is the symbol of
were, of being turned back upon the mind, intellectual vision) sees best in the dark.
to feel how it is affected by external causes.
But colour renders objectively visible the
“ The relations of ideal form are known forms and modes of extension known by
directly by single feeling, or abstract vision, the mind; and tone renders objectively per-
without any reflection of the mind upon its ceptible the quantities or ideal forms of du-
self. But judgment or opinion requires a
ration, of which the mind is internally con-
double feeling. And the serpent, which,
scious."
by folding, can touch itself in many dif The following extract refers to the
ferent places at once, is the symbol of pru- operations of judgment, or opinion
dence.
proceeding upon sensation.
* The judging powers, proceeding upon “ Judgment concerning form, is judg-
the sentiment of single attraction, give the ment considering upon the feeling of con-
feeling of different things approximating tinuous and extended touch, such as that of
to unity. And hence comparisons and si- light upon the eye. When the form is not
militudes, and judgment concerning the shut in, and when the extension viewed is
coincidence or apparent union of different open, then the judgment is also free, and
objects. There can be no union in the moves continuously to opine concerning lo-
resisting power of objects—but only the cality and distance. Judgment concerning
transference of resisting power, when they separateness, or number in objects of sense,
press against each other; and when the is judgment proceeding upon the feeling of


390 Essay on the Sentiments of Attraction, Adaptation, and Variety. [July,
different or successive touch, or resistance not imply the preference of any thing, to the
felt dividuously, and having order or col- internal feeling of individual being. When
location, if perceived simultaneously. The theobscure internal nature of themind'spar.
sensation of divided and numerous touch ticular being is contrasted with the know.
may be received in various ways; but the ledge of fixed idea, the mind then perceives
power of judging concerning the feeling of the dissimilarity between its own moveable
separateness, is, the fingers of the soul. In being, and those permanent relations which
musical tones, gravity and acuteness de- cannot be altered. And this contrariety is
pend upon the comparative length of the felt as the source of intermediate pain,
pulsations in different tones, and conse- through which, alone, such contrariety can
quently upon the comparative multiplicity be reconciled. But, when the mind dis-
of the pulsations. In grave tones, the pul- joins itself from idea, the nature of its
sations are large and few; in acute tones, power is then changed from intellectual
they are short and many. Therefore the stedfastness, into the mere power of parti-
perception of musical proportions in sound cular being. Self-love is a feeling relating
is from the powers of judging concerning to the whole of individual being; but pride
separateness, for these are the means by is like the spine or back of the soul : and
which the mind judges of the proportional the horse may be considered as the symbol
quantity of pulsations in different tones, of pride, or the strength of particular be-
and discriminates the changes of vibration. ing, made to be ridden upon, and controul-
If red be the colour which is gravest, or ed by reason and conformity to idea.
largest in the parts, and if the other six “As the desire of approbation reconciles
colours diminish from it, in harmonical and unites the active power of different in.
proportions, the proportions of colours must dividuals, it produces, between them, a
be also perceived according to the mind's feeling of amity and mutual pleasure. But
power of distinguishing separateness, but this is unlike contemplative love or attrac-
applied to a different feeling."
tion, in which the mind feels other exista
This marks out the difference of the ences, as drawing opposite to itself; for the
operations of opinion from modes of desire of approbation makes other exist-
single feeling, such as all internal con-
ences be felt as collateral : And vanity has
sciousness, abstract vision of ideal form, beauty; but seeks only for correspondence
no objective vision, or sense of objective
touch, and emotions of contemplative of internal feeling as to moveable power.
love. It is also adapted to shew how If pride be the spine or back of the soul,
opinion, as being a mode of the mind's the desire of approbation is as the ribs ;
voluntary action, should have a con- and dogs which join in the chase, and
nection with the self-love and passions strain their speed in the same course, may
of human nature. The remainder of be considered as the symbols of social van
this Essay relates to the will and to the nity, or community of feeling as to action.
modes of personal feeling.
The wolfish tendency of the desire of ap-
" And in proceeding to consider the probation, is always manifested sooner or
kinds of active movement which are found later, when mankind are excited to act
in human nature, it is evident that the much together, according to their natural
nearest to contemplative sentiment are those passions. This affection also gives rise to
kinds of action which refer to the ideal and an interchange of thought in society, which
permanent. And, first, stedfastness of will is not through the medium of intellectual
is the relation of the mind's active power to form, but according to community of De-
one permanent form ; for the nature of the tural feeling, which is the source of core
mind has not stedfastness in itself, and on- rupt modes of expression.
ly attains to it by the union of its particu.
“ In pride, the internal nature of active
lar power with fixed idea. And justice is power is felt as single. In the desire of
the relation of action to equality of idea. approbation it is felt as separate and colla-
But these modes of action are essentially teral. But there is also caution, which is
different from the sentiment of hope, which a sort of conception of the nature of con-
is the love of the ideal, beyond the limits trary power. It is a double feeling, like
of the mind's existence. The contempla- judgment; and, if judgment be the
hands
tive love of idea may easily be discrimina of the soul, caution is like the pressure of
ted from the internal sentiment of justice feeling of contrary power, and tending to
the arms against the sides, producing the
and stedfastness of will.
“ And, in passing from these to the feels repress the outgoing force of the mind. The
ing of self-love, another difference is easia desire of approbation or concurrence, is the
ly perceived ; for self-love is pleasure
in intermediate feeling between pride and cau-
feeling the internal nature of the mind's tion, and conciliates the mind to the active
moveable power as such, and not as relative power of separate being, which would other
to idea. Self-love, therefore, cannot be wise be contrary.”
called a sentiment, in the same manner as One of the most remarkable things
justice or stedfastness of will ; for it does in the above quotations is the reference
12


1821.] Essay on the Sentiments of Attraction, Adaptation, and Variety. 897
of different sentiments to different thetic feeling in the spectator ; or aim
parts of the human form. The forms at giving his mind something to do, by
of the animals mentioned as symboli- exciting an activity of thought with re-
cal of the different
relations which the gard to the subject represented. These
mind is capable of having to other ex are ways of affecting the mind without
istences, afford a more varied exempli- shewing any theorems of the beauti-
fication of the same principle.
ful, and without causing any thing to
This Essay is well fitted to remind per- be seen by the intellect. The want of
sons of reflection, of the importance of the love of the ideal in philosophy is
the love of the ideal, as contrasted with still worse, for it changes metaphysi-
opinion, both in philosophy and the arts. cal speculation into a temporary exer-
Without a continual reference to per- cise of mental activity, without con-
manent and abstract relations, there viction. The unchangeable, is the
can be no dignity or purity of style in measure and test by which the qua-
the arts; and the productions of artists lities of changeable being are under-
must dwindle, (as we see them do at stood.
present,) into mere appeals to sympa-
+
PHILOSOPHY OF SELF.
“ Cursed be that selfish gnome that chill'd the soul
Of cynic Swift, and narrow Rochefoucault ;-
I hate that name, since first, in early youth,
I lit upon that book of too much truth,
Pored o'er its page, and half in vain would try
To prove each damning principle a lie," &c.
It is very remarkable that the philo- shadowed him. Tickled by the desire
sophy which, by its empire over a shal- of novelty, rather than excited by the
low and weak-headed nation, was en- love of truth, they dived after para-
abled to destroy thrones and altars,— doxes and propositions, to make sport
every principle of human and divine withal, and produced them single and
right, and at length itself, commenced unsupported, each of their speculations
its career with the position, that self contained in the limits of three lines.
was the first and sole spring,--the pri- With one good point their asthmatic
nuum mobile of human action. Wary reason was contented, -
and insidious, its first attack was upon
“ To be sententious first, then sage, their
those merely speculative opinions, the
aim,
destruction of which could excite no For shallow thoughts look wise in apop-
alarm; and when the power of ridicule
thegm."
and paradox were so far successful, the
next steps were obvious and easy,—to Nothing could be more convenient
religion and politics. Nor was it a diffi- for the lazy, yet ambitious thinkers,
cult matter to persuade him, who had than this style coupé of French philo-
been first convinced of the utter worth- sophy. It carries an air of decision,
lessness of himself and his motives, er officio, as it were, that is most im-
that the tenets and establishments of posing; and, under the pretence of con-
religion and government were no bet- ciseness, takes care to explain as little
ter.
as possible. Its mode of reasoning is
It is astonishing with what slight the most impudent and antilogical that
but effectual efforts this mighty pro- can be conceived,-supposing oneself
stration of moral ideas was brought as a fair representative of the human
about. There was no grand system, - race, and taking one's own feelings for
no digested plan,-no chain of reason- universal laws. If one half of the pro-
ing, nor concatenation of solid and position be true, it completely answers
overpowering thought to produce it. the precept-monger's intentions, for,
Here a courtier doubted, there assert- with the world, one quarter of inge-
ed ;-a libertine sneered, and another nuity will outweigh three quarters of
epigrammatized. To pile up a fabric falsehood. And, by denying the exist-
was beyond their capacity ; each setence of all honesty and generous mo-
himself about his own card-house, and tive, this Proteus of argument has a
undermined the neighbour that over- last retreat from confutation, by hint-


398
Philosophy of Self.
[July,
ing, that whatever its opponents may that of self, (if it can be so called,) that
think proper to allege, they are true is supported by such weapons, leaves
converts to the opinion in their hearts. nothing established : it is ingeniously
To youth, no doctrines can be more calculated to overturn, without the
fascinating, or more pernicious. The capability either of existing itself, or of
smattering of French, that is so early substituting another. For no principle
and universally acquired, opens at once can stand and become permanent, that
to the inquisitive stripling these con- is not a feeling; and this is the nega-
venient tomes of philosophy. The tion of all feeling. It founds a lively
little volume of the “ Maxims,” soon and fleeting existence in discussion and
falls into the hands of one addicted intellectual warfare: by having over-
to reading, and few books he will come, or by being neglected, it ceases
ever meet with, can produce such a to exist, and leaves a most uncomfort-
sensible revolution in the tone of sen- able vacuum,--a total ebb of thought ;
timent and feeling. Its perusal forms
an era in the life of thought; and “And gone is the sweet idle tongue of the
rill,
many a man looks back with regret
The stream is dried up, and the pebbles
from the age of seared and worn-out
are still.'
feeling, to the time, when these too-
wise precepts undermined his natural It may seem a dangerous, but it is
hopes and yearnings, and cancelled the not altogether a false sentiment, that
happiest years of his existence, by con- bad principles are better than none.
verting him into a premature man of Consistency is the true sublime in mo-
the world. But the formation of a ral conduct, and fixed principles, of
sound moral feeling is not the work of any kind, and in any being, command
a moment; the conviction of reason, respect and admiration. But mere ne-
however forcible and conclusive, fails gations are no principles; they take
to produce it; and men argue in vain, no hold, and they struggle to usurp
that would cram principles down our the place of those, on which they de-
throats. The mind, however shallow pend, and which when they destroy,
and servile, is intrinsically independ- they necessarily annihilate themselves.
ent, and will be its own lawgiver. Such are all those precocious and ephe-
However ruled by, and stooping to the meral sects, which, by the dint of pa-
dogmas of others, these must become radox and contradiction, have started
naturalized, and its own, by being felt, up, and become giants in an hour. Of
ere they become erected into actuating these, the foremost (at least to such as
motives. A moral principle must be me, who care not for church or state,
awakened and developed, not intruded; and argue but with mine own feelings)
and those sudden revulsions, which is the Philosophy of Self.
are produced by vanity, by the love of The founder, or nominal founder of
contrariety, or singularity, do but dis- this system, was not, as might be sup-
organize,-serving to obliterate, under posed, a daring sceptic or profound
the pretence of tracing
charactersanew. speculator,-he was simply a courtier
There is much difference between and a beau—one who thought merely
erecting and destroying, and between to speak, and struck out novelties to
the requisites for each. Erudition, relieve the ennui of conversation. He
judgment, and intensity of thought, was a ladies' philosopher, and discuss-
are the rare products even of genius and ed the topics of the toilet and the heart
time ; but ridicule and paradox are with singular felicity; the fair were his
the births of a minute,-natural im- school, and the boudoir his porch. He
pulses that require no preparative, but fell in with the Epicurean and languid
an object to be exercised upon. They humour of his time and country, be-
are the natural employments of an idle came the moral legislator of the beau
and Alippant mind, whose utmost exer- monde, and destroyed the existing ge-
tion extends but to the smart repartee, nerous laws of the heart, -as Mun-
or whimsical crotchet. There is no la- chausen overcame the wolf,—by turn-
bour required; they have but to fol- ning them inside out. And all this
low their nature, and consult their hu was done by the way of amusement.
mour, and hence often attain a felicity The life of Rochefoucault gave the lie
of conception and expression, that to his doctrine; and the deifier of self
overpowers a whole sorites of argu was an ardent friend and enthusiastic
mentation. But a philosophy, like lover. But folks received that as ster-


1821.]
Philosophy of Self:
399
ling, which he himself meant but for are too social for philosophy,--their
tinsel ; they saw not wit, but reason in thoughts run in the channel of conver-
it, and theory was converted into prac- sation, and having proceeded a space,
tice. The empire of raillery was ac- expect a reply to relieve and set them
knowledged and acquiesced in ;-sar- forward
on their journey again. Thought
casm was allowed to parry accusation, has not been the exercise of their mind,
and point to be an answer to proof. but its diversion ; and with the excep-
Then came the dynasty of epigrams, tion of Montesquieu, whose tesselated
from whence to that of denunciation system manifests the joiner's work,
and proscription was a short stride. with which it was put together, there
No topic could be more convenient is scarce an example in their literature
or delightful to the female sçavans and of a body of reasoning. They do not
their male followers, than this inge- understand, and cannot follow those
nious babble about l'amour, l'amour speculations, whose link and clue is
propre, le cæur, et l'esprit. Each of feeling,-in which multifarious sube
these unfortunate terms were in their jects are blended together by the glow-
turn viewed and reviewed—asserted at ing power of eloquence and imagina-
the same time of a thousand different tion. Hence, by the French literati of
and incongruous things-split and tor- the present day, De Staël and Chateau-
tured into shadows. It is worth while briand are disowned as compatriots ;
to look for the explications of l'esprit they are not French in spirit, and
in Girard's synonimes, to form an idea the deviation is not to be forgiven. To
of the sufferings of that unlucky sub- illustrate writing by speech, they were
stantive. For my part, puzzled at first too much soliloquizers for the gossip-
to know what it was, I was puzzled at ing spirit of their nation, who, accord-
last to discover what it was not. The ing to the vulgar idea, set down every
ladies, with all due deference, play the one for mad, who matters with himseli.
very deuce with words, when they They were besides the assertors of feel
come to talk philosophy. They are so ing, and cast off the pedantic trammels
refined in sentiment, and their per- of the old school. To say no more of
ceptions admit of so many shades, that either at present, ench of whom merits
the Chinese themselves would be per- a volume of such ill-spun criticism as
plexed to supply them with expres- I could bestow, they overturned the
sions : four-and-twenty letters can ne- philosophy of self.
ver stand them.
Our neighbours, upon the whole,
THE VOYAGES AND TRAVELS OF COLUMBUS SECUNDUS.
CHAPTER IV.
THE CRIES OF EDINBURGH,
Attoure to mak ye readers more bowsum and attent, wc promit faithfullie to writ na
thing in this werk but allanerlie sik thing as bene maist patent and knawin to ws, othir be
our awin exact deligence and industrye, or ellis be rehers of otheris rycht trew and faith.
ful auctouris. And thairfore gif this our werk be found plesand to the reders, we sall
writ sum othir tym mair largelie of othir materis, baith to thair eruditioun and pleseir."
Bellenden's Translation of Boece.
No person in the healthy possession listen to common-place prosers) of
of his seven senses (as we say in Scot- closing the orifices of my ears, or at
land) can have travelled through Edin- least shutting up the doors of my at-
burgh, without having been struck tention, on every noise but that which
with the noises made by the itinerant I wish to hear, the singularity of the
merchants who expose their goods for sounds from this source has fallen un-
sale in the streets. To me it has many der the cognizance of my perceptive
a time been a source of much amuse- powers with redoubled force. Though
ment to listen to their varied notes as perhaps not in such variety as those of
I passed along; and as I have acquired London, where even cat's meat and
the habit (a necessary requisite for dog's meat forms an article of civic
those who are obliged' in courtesy to commerce, yet I hope I do not erri
VOL. IX.
3 D


400
Voyages and Travels of Columbus Secundus. (July,
when I assert, that in the Cries of tant period does my recollection ex-
Edinburgh, as they are technically tend,) it is unnecessary to mention the
termed, the Scottish genius for the changes which have taken place, both
combination of “ sweet sounds” is as in the manners and in the accommo-
evident to the observer of taste, as is dation of the inhabitants, since that
the superiority of the simple music of period. Even the Cries, though little
their pathetic ballads to the heartless dependent on the fluctuations of fa-
ditties of the sister country. This mu- shion, have suffered some change, but
sical taste, however, it must be con- little in comparison of that which has
fessed, has not always gone hand in fallen upon less stable distinctions. I
hand with the improved orthography well recollect the period when butter-
of modern times; and violations of its milk and butter were chiefly brought
rules may not unfrequently be obser- to town by the farm-lasses in barrels,
ved, in the almost total change of the on panniers, one on each side of a horse,
substantive word, which in common and the blooming damsel sitting be-
writing stands for the articles thus ex- tween, calling out as she passed along
posed to sale. For instance, would an the streets, Soor Mulk, a chappin an
Englishman ever be able to make out, a jaw for a bawbee ! But this neces-
that Fyne Pirri-aroes was meant as a sary accompaniment to parritch is now
proclamation for the sale of potatoes; almost universally brought to Edin-
that Caller Oost indicated the sale of burgh in carts, and the sale is confined
fresh oysters ; that Soor Mulk typified to the male peasantry. The Risiers,
that most healthy beverage, butter. Groserts, and Reeforts,* of that pe-
milk; or that Youk Saan betokened riod have also changed their names for
that the crier dealt in that truly Scots the more genteel, but less characterise
commodity, yellow sand? But this tic ones of currants, gooseberries, and
sacrifice of sense to sound is not pecu- radishes; though the generic cry of
liar to the humble individuals who Bonny berries, twa dips and a wallop,
call their little merchandise for sale in is still frequently heard among those
the streets. I have heard singers, and more ancient damsels, who expose in
those too who were highly commend- their seasons the produce of the gar-
ed as such, mar a very beautiful air dens surrounding the Scottish capital.
by their imperfect enunciation of the The Cut-throat and Lunnun-candy of
stil more beautiful words, and thus, former days have given place, in a great
in place of their supporting one ano- measure, to Lick and Gibraltar rock ;
ther, have made Music suffocate and but I am not fully satisfied that it is
strangle her poor sister Poetry out for the interest of my friend James
right. Were I a coroner, and this mat- Brown of the Lick and Gib House, to
ter to be brought officially before me, refrain from selling the same commo-
I think I should feel warranted in re- dity to his young customers under two
commending the jury to bring it in as different names. But this is his affair.
a case of wilful murder, committed by The cry of Caller Herrin, so often
the said singers upon the body of the to be heard in the streets of Edin-
said Mrs Poetry.
burgh, is the only one I recollect of
To those who remember Edlinburgh which has been taken notice of by a
twenty-five years ago, (for to such dis- person calculated to do justice to its
* The numberless French terms in the Scottish language, but most of which are now
confined to the humblest walks of life, prove the ancient intercourse of the two nations.
As above, Reefort is Raifert, and Grosert is Groscille, Fr. Succer, in a very common
Edinburgh cry, is the French sucre ; dentylion is dent-de-lion ; a raven or corby is
corbeau. A douce man or a dur chicld require no explanation. A number of German
words are also common in the current dialect of the peasantry: as fremd, strange; lchre,
doctrine, instruction ; geist, ghost, or spirit ; stern, star ; hals, the neck ; tochter,
daughter ; and stange, a pole, or stake, practically used in Scotland, till lately, for
drunken wives, or unfaithful husbands, who were obliged to make public compensation
to the moral feelings of the populace by riding the stang. But one of the most
characteristic words Î know of in the language is doup, which, as I cannot trace its root
to any other tongue, must necessarily have sprung up in our own doric dialect. A doup
o candle, or a well pay'd doup, are as different from the gross terms which other nations
employ to signify the same thing, as the language of Paradise must have been from the
forms of speech employed in the Fish-market.


1821.] Voyages and Travels of Columbus Secundus.
401
musical cadences. It forms the sub- corated with ribbons, on the top of a
ject of a very characteristic air by my pole, when the races were held at Leith,
very worthy friend, Mr Nathaniel was carried in procession by a civic of
Gow, to whose family Scottish music ficer, attended by drum and fife, from
is so much indebted. I hope I shall the Cross of Edinburgh to the Stand
be excused for recommending to his at Leith, where it was deposited du-
scientific attention a few more of our ring the race. A crowd of boys always
national and melodious cries. I my- attended to witness the splendour of
self may, at some future period, trans- the envied purse, and mimic races
mit to Mr Ephraim Rust, the secre were at this time run for papes,* in
tary of that moss-grown institution, imitation purses, by all the school.
the Society of Antiquaries, a long me boys in Edinburgh.
moir on the subject, which may add Whae'll buy my dainty paunches
something, if it do nothing more, to is a cry which, though formerly very
“ their lumber of ten thousand years." common, is now totally extinct. Paun-
Whae'll buy neeps ?-neeps like suce ches, it may be necessary to state, form
cre !--whae'i buy neeps ?-is one of part of the intestines of black cattle ;
our most regular and common cries in but, though this is the case, it must
the evenings of the beginning of sum- not be supposed that the women who
mer. Neeps, it may be remarked, is cried this dainty meant to dispose of
the common abbreviation for turnips, their own abdominal viscera in any
which, when young, are presented as shape. The establishmentof the Clytery
a supper-dish at table, without dress, Market making it necessary for the
ing. Curstorphine cream, or the coagu- paunches to be now cleaned and sold
lum of fresh butter-milk, was formerly there, has superseded the itinerant deal-
a frequent cry in the streets of Edin- ers in this odd commodity ; but the are
burgh ; and when sweetened with su- ticle itself may still occasionally be seen
gar and flavoured, there were few at supper, of the appearance of a stew-
things more palatable. But the taste ed shamoy-skin, and under the well-
for Corstorphine cream seems now on known denomination of tripe.
the decline, and a countrywoman with Whae'll hae my pease and beans-
a wooden pitcher on her head, calling hot and warm ! is the next cry which
out the sale of this summer luxury, I shall notice. This cry commences in
will soon, I am afraid, be accounted a the beginning of November, and in its
rarity in the streets of this ancient ca- periodical return is as regular as that
pital. Whae'll hae my curds and green of the cuckoo, which ushers in the
whey, is still occasionally heard; though, spring about the neighbourhood of
since the disappearance of the Staig, Edinburgh. Whether hot pease and
a masculine woman, with a pail on beans had any necessary connection
her head, who, some years ago, cried with the sitting of the Scottish Courts
this palatable refection in very capital in former times, I have been unable to
style, it is not frequent.
discover ; but, from the criers of the
The Edinburgh races give annually one, and the other commencing busi-
rise to a very singular cry. The lists ness for winter at the same time, it is
of the horses to run being printed, are not an improbable supposition that the
hawked round the streets, and at the lawyers' clerks of former days may
racing-ground, by numberless person- have warmed their fingers and their
ages of all ages, who have hitherto mouths with a bawbee's worth of this
kept up with much fidelity the imme- flatulent legumen. Hot pyes used ge-
morial chaunt: " Here you have a list of nerally to commence being sold about
all the names of the noblemen and gen- the same time, and probably for a si-
tlemen, riders and riders' livery, who is milar reason. The chief station for
to run over the sands of Leith this day, this savoury article was in the High
for his Majesty's purse of a hundred Street. They were carried by men in
guinea's o' value." A gaudy purse, de- covered baskets; and the attention of
Papes are cherry-stones, which are collected with care by the boys, and furnish
them with numberless sources of amusement. My heart still warms when I see the lit-
tle fellows counting them from their bags by castles ; and many a time when I pass the
light-hearted companies playing at the ring, have I felt inclined to borrow a prapper,
and try a shot for auld langsyne.


402
Voyages and Travels of Columbus Secundus. [July
those fond of dog-mutton was called miles, and call their commodity through
to the bearer by the tinkling of a small the streets in the well-known words,
bell, and the ejaculation at intervals of Whae'll buy saat ? - Whae'll hae bonny
Hot pyes—fine hot pyes-smoking hot! shore-dulse? is cried to nearly the
But the establishment of pye-shops, same tune, by women likewise, who
where the lieges can wash down these pick this unpalatable food from the
viands with London porter from the rocks on the neighbouring shores at
butt, have now almost extinguished ebb-tide. Rock partens and fine prawns
the race of these wandering cook- are also called by women.
shops.
The next cry in my arrangement is
Salt is brought to town in wicker that of brown pigs; but as the very
baskets or creels from Fisherrow, and sound or sight of these luxurious words
even farther, on the backs of women, creates an additional flow of saliva in
who arrive in Edinburgh early every the mouth, pigs must be the head-dish
morning, after a journey of six or eight of another chapter.
CHAPTER V.
I was at the fishmarket, Mary, and it was real curious to see the fish, haddocks, and
cods, and turbots, as dead as a door-nail ;
Though the women said they were living, and that, preserve us ! they were offering,
not skate and flounders, but men's lives, for sale :
And crabs and lobsters, such creatures ! with many feet, covered with shells, and
snapping their thumbs in spite were they ;
I wonder what mistress is to do with them ;-one is like a spider, but bigger, and the
other is an overgrown sea-flea.
Poetical Epistle from Christian to her sister Mary,
Brown pigs were formerly carried to who carry this delicate viand on their
town in creels, and sold by women, backs in creels and skulls, may, in the
calling out, Buy brown pigs. But quietude of a winter evening, be heard
these pig-wives are now seldom seen, at the distance of miles. The sound, I
this commodity being atpresent brought ain credibly informed, even reaches the
in larger quantities, and exposed to ears of the inhabitants of the lands of
sale in carts. It may perhaps be ne Canaan. Lest my veracity as an im-
cessary to mention, for the behoof of partial observer should be called in
untravelled Englishmen, that brown question, however, I beg to mention,
pigs do not mean in Edinburgh ani- that I here mean not the Jewish Ca-
mals of the sow tribe. These are calle naan, but the Canaan of the Gutter.
ed swine, or more characteristically, bloods of Edinburgh-the grounds to
grumphies ; and the sound which in the south of the city so named, where
England would suggest to the stomach a number of snug boxes attest the taste
the most pleasing associations, beto- of the inhabitants for country retire-
kens to the mind of a Scotsman only ment, and the pleasures of rustication.
the most rude species of earthen-ware, The fish-women, or fish-wives, who
manufactured at the neighbouring pots frequent the Edinburgh market are a
teries. All stone-ware in Scotland, it singular race of beings. Some of them
may be farther remarked, is known by come from a great distance, but the
the generic denomination of pigs. greater part from the villages of New-
Moreover, it may not be out of place haven and Fisherrow, from whence
here to mention, for the benefit of they arrive heavily laden every morn-
cockney readers, that yellow sand, cried ing; and after selling their fish in the
in the streets under the strange name market, or calling it through the streets
of Youk saan, is notan edible substance, for the greater part of the day, return
but is used by housewives of the old home in the evening with their empty
school for the purpose of cleaning stone- creelsandskulls upon their backs. Their
floors and stairs.
costume is also singular; a coloured
Whae'll hae caller oost? i.e. who will handkerchief tied over their cap and
have fresh oysters ? is cried in every under their chin ; a sailor's jacket, and
month the name of which contains an ample folds of many-coloured petti-
R, through all the streets of Edinburgh. coats, the labyrinths of which, as I
The shrill voices of the fish-women, never traced them, so I shall not ven-


1821.] Voyages and Travels of Columbus Secundus.
403
ture to describe, gathered up round grind, Bellowses to mend, and Sweep!
their middle for the convenience of sweep! present no peculiarities worthy
walking. As to the weight they are of notice ; and the Society for the Sup-
able to carry, it has been conjectured pression of Begging, and the Asylum
that a common-council man, or six for the Blind, have silenced many mu-
Cockney poets, would not form
an over- sical voices, which formerly sounded
load for these picturesque Amazons. in the bye-lanes to the burden of Mind
Ye fish-wives of Newhaven, not for- a puir lassie! and, Leddies and gentle-
getting those of Fisherrow and Preston- men, if ye please gie a ha'penny to a puir
pans, as ye form a society by yourselves, blind boy!
and are unlike every other species of I cannot conclude this chapter with-
human beings with whom I am ac- qut expressing a wish, that some mem-
quainted—ye deserve, and ye shall ber of that respectable association,
have, a separate chapter of my work, whose purpose is to preserve “ auld
dedicated to you
alone!
nick-nackets,” would procure accounts
Wall-cresses and water purpie, which of the Scots worthies, who have died
are gathered by women from the neigh- within the last thirty years in Edin-
bouring ditches and sold as a spring burgh, and who may justly claim a
sallad, are two well-known aquatic place in their Transactions, on account
plants, and are perhaps equally good of the notoriety of their public charac-
for Scottish stomachs as those of more ters. In the hope that this hint will
expensive cultivation. Gule Findhorn not be overlooked, I beg to suggest,
speldings are dried haddocks, large that a memoir of the late celebrated
quantities of which are annually im- Mr James Duff, commonly known by
ported by the fishermen of Aberdeen the name of Jamie or Bailie Duff,
and neighbourhood. They are eaten as would be acceptable to the public; one
they are received without further dress of Madam or Lizzy Bowzie, would sell
ing. Fine ripe cherries, tual and une to an edition of a quarto. Anecdotes of
the mens, are to be met with, tied on a the Daft Laird, who went about the
stick in a very inviting manner for streets with a parcel of walking sticks,
children, at the corner of every street on the tops of which were cut faces
during the short time that this fruit is representing the celebrated personages
in season.-Strawberries are plentiful that day; and anecdotes of Daddy
and excellent.
Napcrowns, a respectable gentleman,
Penny-cakes and parliament, snaps, whose strange pleasure it was to nap
and ginger tablet, figs, and raisins, the heads of the youngsters of these
have ceased to be sold in the streets; times with a thimble on his finger,
but the boys know still where to find and who rewarded the little sufferers
the shops where these tempting cates with a snap, would be an acceptable
are to be sold. Fine juniper berries, service to those who were school-boys
the picking and selling of which af- at that period. Bowling John, Puddin
forded employment to a few old women Lizzie, Daft Tam o' the Meadows,
in the beginning of winter, are now Drunken Charlie Stewart the tailor,
only to be found in the apothecaries' Daft Lady Watt, Tup Yule, Young
shops. Souter's clods, I may here add, Lambs to Sell, John Dhu of the town-
are now almost unknown among the baa guard, Big Samuel and Geordy Cran-
kers, though formerly never was there stoun, might furnish incidental notices
a species of bread better calculated for of no common interest ; and were no
trying the teeth and staying the hun- other purpose to be served, the record
ger of a High School callant. Hot would at least help to ascertain the
dumplings, however, have lately been fact, of there being fewer harmless
called through the streets by one in- mad people in Edinburgh at present
dividual; but the name evidently shews than formerly,–or, that now the in-
that this luxury is to be considered as habitants of this ancient city, being all
an importation from the south. equally foolish, such aberrations of
Of the cries not above mentioned, reason have ceased to be remarked as
the list is not perhaps great. Knives to uncommon.
Notes and Illustrations to Chapter V.
Bailie Duff._Some account of this notable magistrate may be found in that verit-
able history, published under the name of " Guy Mannering.' The same admirable
historian of Scottish manners has given, in “ The Heart of Mid-Lothian,” an excellent


404
Voyages and Travels of Columbus Secundus. [July,
description of our reverend silver-hair'd friend, who held the office of outer-turnkey to
the Old Tolbooth; and if I mistake not, some incidental notices of the celebrated John
Dhu, that eminent preserver of the public peace, and terror of the bickerers of former
days.
Madam Borozie had in her day been a beauty-was seduced by a duke, and cast off
for a fairer face. Her reason partially fled, and she afterwards wandered the streets.
This is an epitome of the history of many a beauty, but one so common, that it ceases
to be noticed. In my early days Madam was a very old woman, who went about in
rags. She however left, it is said, to her heirs (for she was respectably connected) up-
wards of £500.
Bowling John long sat at the Old Corn-Market, now removed, with his pins and
bowls, crying, Two or through, now, boys, two or through ! and afterwards removed to
the Earthen Mound. Of his future fate I confess myself to be ignorant.
Pudding Lizzic kept a change-house at Jock's Lodge, which was much frequented
by a certain class of citizens, on account of the unrivalled excellence of Lizzie's intesti-
nal cookery.
Daft Tam of the Meadows was a poor idiot, whose home was the Charity Work.
house, and who frequently shared the school-boys' lunch as they passed his haunts in
going to their tasks.
Drunken Charlie Stewart was for many years a well-known character in Edinburgh.
He had been out in the forty-five, with his unfortunate name-sake, and had been wound.
ed in the head at the battle of Culloden. Charlie ever afterwards was apt to forget him-
self when he got (what was a very frequent occurrence) a drappy, and was in the inva-
riable habit, when in that state, of attacking every red-coat he met, and speaking and
acting treason. Charlie, however, never was further punished for these high misdemean-
ours, than by an occasional confinement in the Town Guard-house, and finished his life
in the humble occupation of a tailor.
Daft Lady Watt walked the streets, tawdrily dressed in the habiliments of a former
age, and with a fan in her hand. She was perfectly harmless, and stopped with the ut-
most good nature to give a pin to the little imps who constantly interrupted her walks,
crying, Eh, Lady Watt, will ye gie us a prin 2 Whether she was " crazed with care,
or cross'd in hopeless love,” I know not; but she never begged, and had the appearance
of having seen better days.
Tup Yule was an old man, who inhabited a cottage on the south bank of the Nora
loch, now removed, and kept a cabbage-garden there. He was a cow-feeder, and car-
ried milk about in pitchers; but was sadly tormented by the boys pulling the tails of
his coat, and calling out Tup Yule ! - Poor Yule, in one of those King's birth-day
mobs, where the military was called in, about 1795 or 1796, was sadly cut in the cheek
by the sabre of a dragoon, as he was passing peaceably along with his pitchers, and it
is believed died soon after.
Young Lambs to sell was a conspicuous character among the boys and girls of the last
age, (now fathers and mothers,) by his basket of lambs and their cotton fleeces, and his
poetical terminations, aided by the adroit twirling of a stick round his fingers, and his
free and easy gait.
Geordy Cranstoun was long a welcome guest at the Mason Lodges of Edinburgh, on
account of his talents for singing. He was a singular little being; and when after his
evening parties his organs of locomotion had ceased to obey the will, he was frequently,
for the humour of the thing, carried home to his lodgings in a porter's creel. Poor
Geordie, going home one evening in this singular vehicle, had the misfortune to tum.
ble from the creel in going up or down a stair, and died soon after.
Big Samuel, a gigantic Highlander, has been accurately figured by Kay in a print,
where, for the sake of contrast, he is put alongside of the portraiture of friend Geordy.
The same artist has preserved representations of most of the other worthies mentioned
above; and occasional notices of the same personages, may, I have no doubt, be found
in that valuable book (as old Micah calls it) the Scots Magazine.
Rowsting Jacks and Toasting Forks, according to the same authority, died in Octo-
ber 1818, at the advanced age of 102.


1821.3
405
Voyages and Travels of Columbus Secundus.
CHAPTER VI.
Being the Chapter of Accidents.
Did you ever hear one Richard Short's history ?
If you didn't, I'll tell it you now.
Essay on the Emotions which produce Laughter,
by John Emery, Esq.
TRAVELLERS, whether by land or immediately awaked me from my re-
sea, are liable to many little accidents. yerie, by the exclamation, “ Gude
Those that have happened to myself Lord !"-" I beg your pardon, sir,“
in my laborious excursions through said I, “ I did not observe you.”—The
the Scottish capital, have not been few only reply was a significant grunt.
in number ; and for the instruction of I now perceived to my cost, that I
future travellers, I here set down one had been driven north when I meant
or two of them.
to have been drawn to the south; and
Accident the First.
that I was on the road to the Queens-
ferry, while my razors, fishing-rod,
Not very long ago, I put my lit- clean shirt, and botanical box, were
tle packet inside a stage-coach for Dal- on their travels to Dalkeith.
keith ; but being rather before the As it was of little use to make com-
hour, I sauntered along the pavement plaints for what could not now be re-
till the coachman had finished his medied, I leapt out of the machine, and
gill in the cellar called the coach-of- having gently remonstrated with the
fice. On retracing my steps, the coach coachman for taking me so much out
seemed to be still in the same place, of my road, I determined to walk back
though I had taken at least five mi- again the three miles to Edinburgh.
nutes to my saunter-adjusted my I got little thanks, however, from
watch by the clock of St Giles,-but- coachy for my forbearance, and have a
toned my coat—and unrolled a sixe great notion, that in future I shall be
pence from my paper of small change obliged to learn to swear, to rate the
to give to the coachman, when we fellows like a gentleman ; for I was
should arrive at our destination. Quite scarcely out of the vehicle, when, point-
impatient at there being no signal for ing to his head, he remarked to an out-
going on, I returned to the cellar, call- side passenger, that “ the gentleman
ed out to the man to make haste, and was surely no very wise.”
the door of the vehicle being open, na like a body in their sound senses,”
leaped up and took my seat. To was the reply. “ An it may be, he's
while away my impatience, I pulled daft wi' lair, puir man,” said a bare-
out a volume of Don Quixotte (I headed servant girl, who came to at-
never travel without one,) from my tend the stopping of the coach, “ for
pocket, and began to study this learn- ye see he has a buke in his hand, and
ed publication with such earnestness, he's laughing till himsel !”
that in spite of the entrance of two
Accident the Second.
passengers,-in spite of the ruts of
Prince's Street, and the smoke of the Another misadventure which befel
distillery at Bell's Mills, I never lift, me in my travellings through Edin-
ed up my head till the coach stopped burgh, was the following :--I had
at Mutton-hole, for the honest man spent some two or three days in walk-
the coachman to get another dram. ing through the more ancient parts of
Having come by this time to the crisis the city, for the purpose of copying
of a very capital joke, I could not the many inscriptions whieh are placed
refrain from throwing myself back, over the doors of the older houses, and
laughing more heartily than decorous- on that morning had made a sketch of
ly, and rubbing my knees in perfect the house of John Knox,-taken a
ecstasy. On observing now, for the drawing of the Roman sculpture at the
first time, that there was company Netherbow,—and was in the act of
with me, and in bringing myself again copying an iņscription above a door in
to the balance of composure, I unfor- Blackfriars' Wynd, when ona sudden, a
tunately planted my foot on the toe of girl who popped her head out, instantly
a fat gentleman sitting opposite, who withdrew, crying, “ Eh, mither, here's
• It was
9


406
Voyages and Travels of Columbus Secundus. [July,
a man taking down my father's name the door was locked, and doubly bar-
in a book !"-"Ye're father's name, red. Though I am not generally sub-
lassie,” grumbled out another voice; ject to terror, I could not think of
“it'll be for some new tax, nae doubt. spending the night among my present
Deel's in them a', they'll no let poor company with any sort of cornposure.
folk live belive; but I'll gie him some- I ran as fast as I could to the other
thing for his pains !" - With that, 0 gate,-but it likewise was shut;-
reader! she threw full in my face and peeped into the lodge where the uten-
upon my clothes, the whole contents sils of the grave-diggers were deposited
of an earthen vessel, of a roundish to see any body was there,—but they
shape, * which she held in her hand, were all gone. Two rusty fowling-
exclaiming, “ Tak that to your morn- pieces (and their appearance gave me
in'!"- I was almost stunned with no comfort) stood inside the window,
the unexpected shower; and as re- intended, I presumed, to arm the peo-
monstrance seemed vain, and as the ple who watch the remains of the de
neighbours were beginning to assem- ceased citizens. I was now in terrible
ble at the noise, I retreated down the alarm, and saw little prospect of any
wynd as hastily as I could, to avoid other alternative, than dying of terror
the contents of a hundred such uten- when the midnight hour should re-
sils, which were ready to be emptied lease the perturbed spirits of murder-
from above on the head of a reputed ers from their charnel houses, or of
member of that detested association. I being shot by the guards of the dead
can have a new jacket from my tailor; as an unknown intruder on their pe-
Mr Armstrong will furnish me with culiar vocation of resurrection-men. I
another hat, upon paying the accus- attempted to cross the graves to get up
tomed price; but what, o Public! the wall by the help of the attached mo-
will compensate thee for the loss of in- numents;
but fear almost deprived my
scriptions which you might have read muscles of their power, and I tumbled
without danger; or thee, Ő Antiquaries half a dozen times over the hillocks in
of Scotland, for the learned observa- my attempt to get forward. I at last,
tions I should have made upon them? however, succeeded ; got hold of a very
My old jacket and hat, partially clean- civil good-natured cherub on the mar-
ed, (for to purify them totally was im- tyrs' tomb-raised myself by placing a
possible,) may, if not sold, be still foot on the shoulder of a stone angel
seen in that varied and vast repository and poked my bare head (for my hat
of old clothes, St Mary's Wynd. had fallen off) over the wall which di-
Accident the Third.
vides the church-yard from the Can-
dlemaker-row, calling out loudly for
Another circumstance which vexed assistance. A number of children, who
me not a little, and which happened were playing on the empty carts ar-
very lately, perhaps deserves to be re- ranged at the bottom of the wall, were
corded in this chapter of travellers' ac- arrested in their game at my voice, and
cidents. I had strayed into the Grey- locking up, and seeing nothing but a
friars' Church-yard one evening, for head peeping over the wall, leaped
want of something better to do, and from the machines in terror, calling
unaware that the gates required to be out, “Eh! there's bluidy Mackingie!"
shut by a certain hour, I had pored Their vociferations, assisted by my
over this monument and that stone, own, soon drew a crowd to the spot;
till by my watch it was half-past nine the little imps grew bolder by the pre-
o'clock. Thinking it then time to re sence of so many of their elders, and
tire homewards, I walked gaily along prevented my appeals to their com-
the road, persuading myself that it was passion from being heard by singing in
better for me to be alive and in health, chorus,
than lying even under the most costly
of the monuments that met my view, Bluidy Mackingie, come out if ye daur,
-when to my mortification I found Lift the sneck, and draw the bar !
* To those who are curious in the investigation of the furniture of the ancients, I
beg to recommend the learned Memoir on the Chamber-vases of the Greeks and Ro.
mans, lately published in the Transactions of the Antiquarian Society. Little think
the proprietors of many of these vases to what purposes they were originally destinel


1921.) Voyages and Travels of Columbus Secundus.
407
Some of the people from the windows was quite well. I stared at the honest
in the opposite street, however, had gentleman, to see whether he were se-
perceived my unfortunate situation ; rious in his address-presumed (for I
and while the porters and passengers would not positively say I was not a
were wondering, without attempting Lord) that he was certainly mistaken ;
to give any assistance, whether I was while he, on the other hand, put on
a dead man come to life again,—the his hat, asked my pardon (which was
coadjutor of an anatomist,--the man instantly granted) for having taken
that was last hanged,-or bloody Mac- me for Lord - ; and we parted, he
kingie himself,—had the compassion looking back at the personage whom,
to send for Mr Morthead the Record. if Nature had made Lords, had cer-
er, who speedily came with the keys tainly been one,--and I turning occa-
of this dismal abode, and freed me sionally round to take another peep at
from all apprehension of that night the man, whose penetration raised me
meeting with the three stone sisters to a situation which I feel perfectly
walking round the church ;-Major confident I could fill with great satis-
Weir's cane taking its midnight ex- faction to myself, if not with advan-
cursion,-or of seeing the said bloody tage to my country.
Mackingie peeping out of his prison The moral of this chapter is not very
house with a red night-cap on his flattering to human pride or to human
head.
distinctions. I was thought “ not very
Accident the Fourth.
wise," for studying and laughing at
the most instructive and amusing book
The last adventure I shall at present in the world ;-half-drowned in at-
set forth, and it is one which, to most tempting to qualify myself for a cor-
people, would seem a most flattering responding member of the Institute of
tribute to personal vanity, was my once France, under the abhorred name of a
being taken for a nobleman-nothing tax-gatherer; and terrified a whole
less than a peer of the realm. I was street under the appearance of “Bloody
walking one day in the Meadows, when Mackingie.” That a nobleman should
a gentleman whom I met accosted me be thought to resemble either or all of
with a very low bow,-uncovered his these personages, will, I am afraid, not
powdered prominence to do me obei- be taken as a compliment by any mem-
sance,-and in the blandest accents of ber of the present peerage of Scot-
respectful homage, hoped my Lordship land.
THE FATAL REPAST.
We had been nearly five weeks at sea, ter; Mr DM, a young Irishman,
when the captain found, by a nautical and myself. Our captain was a man
observation, that we were within one of pleasing manners and liberal ideas,
hundred and thirty miles of the north and formed an important acquisition
side of Jamaica. Favourable winds and to our party, by joining in all its re-
smooth seas had hitherto been our con- creations, and affording every facility
stant attendants, and every thing on to the indulgence of them. Much of
board conspired to render the confine our time was spent in conversation,
ment and monotony of a long voyage and in walking on deck; and when the
less annoying than they usually are. dews of evening obliged us to descend
The cabin passengers consisted of Ma- to the cabin, the captain would often
jor and Mrs L a new-married entertain us with a relation of the va-
couple; Miss P sister to the lat. rious dangers which he and other per-
>
I have heard that the King is to honour the capital of Scotland with a visit, and I
hope it may be true. Without trusting more than need be to omens and presentiments,
I should not be surprised, in that event, to see my name in the next year's roll of
freeholders, under the title of “ Sir Christopher Columbus, of that ilk, Baronet;" or,
passing that intermediate link of nobility, at being introduced to the Upper House, by
the style and title of " Baron Columbus, of Columbia.” But these are matters between
his Majesty and myself.
VOL. IX.
3 E


1891.1
The Fatal Repast.
a few minutes since, and five others ever, now began to exhibit alarming
are dangerously ill.
symptoms. Mr D became deli.
“ Poisoned ! my God! Do you say rious; the major lay upon the cabin
60 ? Must we all die?" exclaimed Mrs floor in a state of torpidity; and the
L-, dropping on her knees." What captain had drowned all sense and
is to be done?" cried the major dis- recollection by drinking a large quan,
tractedly; " are there no means of tity of brandy. Mrs - watched
counteracting it?"-" None that I her husband and her sister alternate-
know of,” returned the captain. “All ly, in a state of quiet despair.
remedies are vain. The poison is al I was comparatively but little af-
ways fatal, except—but I begin to feel fected, and therefore employed my-
its effects-support mecan this be self in assisting others until they
imagination?" He staggered to one seemed to be past all relief, and then
side, and would have fallen upon the sat down, anticipating the horrid con-
floor, had not I assisted him. Mrs sequences which would result from
notwithstanding his apparent the death of the whole ship’s com-
insensibility, clung to his arm, crying pany,
out, in a tone of despair, “ Is there no While thus occupied, I heard the
helpmno pity-no one to save us?” steersman call out, "Taken all aback
and then fainted away on her hus- here." A voice, which I knew to be
band's bosom, who, turning to me, the mate's, immediately answered,
said, with quivering lips, “ You are a Well, and what's that to us? Put
happy man; you have nothing to em- her before the wind, and let her go
bitter your last moments-Oh, Provi- where she pleases.” I soon perceived,
dence! was I permitted to escape so by the rushing of the water, that there
many dangers, merely that I might was a great increase in the velocity of
suffer this misery?”.
the ship's progress, and went upon
Mrs L-soon regained her senses, deck to ascertain the cause.
and I endeavoured to calm her agita I found the mate stretched upon the
tion by remarking, that we might pos- top of the companion, and addressed
sibly escape the fatal influence of the him, but he made no reply. The man
poison, as some constitutions were not at the helm was tying a rope round the
so easily affected by it as others. “Is tiller, and told me he had become so
there then a little hope?" she exclaim- blind and dizzy, that he could neither
ed. “Oh! God grant it may be so ! steer, nor see the compass, and would
How dreadful to die in the midst of therefore fix the rudder in such a man-
the ocean, far from friends and home, ner, as would keep the ship’s head as
and then to be thrown into the deep!” near the wind as possible. On going
-" There is one thing," said the cap- forward to the bows, I found the crew
tain, faintly, “ I was going to tell you, lying motionless in every direction.
that-but this sensation-I mean á They were either insensible of the
remedy:"-"Speak on,” cried the ma- dangerous situation in which our ves-
jor, in breathless suspence. “ It may sel was, or totally indifferent to it;
have a chance of saving you,” conti- and all my representations on this
nued the former ; you must imme- head failed to draw forth an intelligi-
diately” He gave a deep sigh, and ble remark from any of them. Our
dropped his head upon his shoulder, ship carried a great deal of canvas,
apparently unable to utter a word the lower studding sails being up, for
more. “Oh, this is the worst of all !” we had enjoyed a gentle breeze direct-
cried Mrs in agony ; "he was ly a-stern, before the wind headed us
on the point of telling us how to coun- iu the way already mentioned.
teract the effects of the poison-Was About an hour after sunset, almost
it heavenly mercy that deprived him every person on board seemed to have
of the power of speech? Can it be called becomie worse. I alone retained my
mercy?”—“Hush, hush! you rave,” senses unimpaired. The wind now
returned her husband. “We have blew very fresh, and we went through
only to be resigned now—Let us at the water at the rate of ten miles an
least die together.”
hour. The night looked dreary and
The crew had dined about an hour turbulent. The sky was covered with
and a half before us, and consequent- large fleeces of broken clouds, and the
ly felt the effects of the poison much stars flashed angrily through them, as
earlier than we did. Every one, howe they were wildly hurried along by the


410
The Fatal Repast.
[July,
blast. The sea began to run high, and figure rushed past me with a wild
the masts shewed, by their incessant shriek, and sprung overboard. I saw
creaking, that they carried more sail it struggling among the billows, and
than they could well sustain. tossing about its arms distractedly,
I stood alone near the stern of the but had no means of affording it any
ship. Nothing could be heard above assistance. I watched it for some time,
or below deck, but the dashing of the and observed its convulsive motions
surges, and the moanings of the wind. gradually grow more feeble; but its
All the people, on board were to me form soon became undistinguishable
the same as dead; and I was tossed amidst the foam of the bursting waves.
about, in the vast expanse of waters, The darkness prevented me from dis-
without a companion or fellow-suffer- covering who had thus committed
er. I knew not what might be my himself to the deep, in a moment of
fate, or where I should be carried. The madness, and I felt a strong repug.
vessel, as it careered along the raging nance at attempting to ascertain it, and
deep, uncontrolled by human hands, rather wished that it might have been
seemed under the guidance of a relent- some spectre, or the offspring of my
less demon, to whose caprices its ille perturbed imagination, than a human
fated crew had been inysteriously con- being.
signed by some superior power.
As the sea contivued to break over
· I was filled with dread lest we should the vessel, I went down to the cabin,
strike upon rocks, or run ashore, and after having closely shut the gang-way
often imagined that the clouds which doors and companion. Total darkness
bordered the horizon were the black prevailed below. I addressed the cap-
cliffs of some desolate coast. At last, tain and all my fellow passengers by
I distinctly saw a light at some dis- name, but received no reply from any
tance-I anticipated instant destruc- of them, though I sometimes fancied i
tion—I grew irresolute whether to re- heard moans and quick breathing,
main upon deck, and face death, or to when the tumult of waters without
wait for it below. I soon discovered a happened to subside a little. But I
ship a little way a-head-I instinctive thought that it was perhaps imagina-
ly ran to the helm, and loosed the rope tion, and that they were probably all
that tied the tiller, which at once dead. I began to catch for breath,
bounded back, and knocked me over. and felt as if I had been immured in
A horrible crashing, and loud cries, a large coffin along with a number of
now broke upon my ear, and I saw corpses, and was doomed to linger out
that we had got entangled with another life beside them. The sea beat against
vessel. But the velocity with which the vessel with a noise like that of ar-
we swept along, rendered our extrica- tillery, and the crashing of the bul-
tion instantaneous; and, on looking warks, driven in by its violence, gave
back, I saw a ship, without a bowsprit, startling proof of the danger that
pitching irregularly among the waves, threatened us. Having several times
and heard the rattling of cordage, and been dashed against the cabin walls
a tumult of voices. But, after a little by the violent pitching of the ship,
time, nothing was distinguishable by I groped for my bed, and lay down
the eye or by the ear. My situation in it, and, notwithstanding the hor-
appeared doubly horrible, when I re rors that surrounded me, gradually
dected that I had just been within call dropped asleep.
of human creatures, who might have When I awaked, I perceived, by the
baved and assisted all on board, had sun-beams that shone through the
not an evil destiny hurried us along, sky-light, that the morning was far
and made us the means of injuring advanced. The ship rolled violently
those who alone were capable of afford- at intervals, but the noise of winds and
ing us relief.
waves had altogether ceased. I got
About midnight, our fore-top-mast up hastily, and almost dreaded to look
gave way, and fell upon deck with a round, lest I should find my worst
tremendous noise. The ship immedi- anticipations concerning my compa-
ately swung round, and began to la- nions too fatally realized.
bour in a terrible manner, while seve I immediately discovered the cap-
ral waves broke over her successively. tain lying on one side of the cabin
I had just resolved to descend the quite dead. Opposite him was Major
gang-way for shelter, when a white - stretched along the floor, and


1921.]
The Fatal Repast.
411
grasping Armly the handle of the door that it seemed as ff we were consigning
of his wife's apartment. He had, I our departed companions to a heaven
suppose, in a moment of agony, wish- as resplendent as that above us. There
ed to take farewell of the partner of was an awful solemnity, alike in the
his heart, but had been unable to get scene and in our situation. I read the
beyond the spot where he now lay. funeral service, and then we dropped
He looked like a dying man, and Mrs the corpses overboard, one after an-
L-, who sat beside him, seemed to other. The sea sparkled around each,
be exhausted with grief and terror. as its sullen plunge announced that
She tried to speak several times, and the waters were closing over it, and
at last succeeded in informing me that they all slowly and successively de-
her sister was better. I could not dis- scended to the bottom, enveloped in a
cover Mr Dany where, and there- ghastly glimmering brightness, which
fore concluded that he was the person enabled us to trace their progress
who had leaped overboard the prece- through the motionless deep. When
ding night.
these last offices of respect were per-
On going upon deck, I found that formed, we retired in silence to dif-
every thing wore a new aspect. ' The ferent parts of the ship.
sky was dazzling and cloudless, and About midnight, the mate ordered
not the faintest breath of wind could the men to put down our anchor,
be felt. The sea had a beautiful bright which, till then, they had not been
green colour, and was calm as a small able to accomplish. They likewise
lake, except when an occasional swell managed to furl most of the sails, and
rolled from that quarter in which the we went to bed, under the consoling
wind had been the preceding night; and idea, that though a breeze did spring
the water was so clear, that I saw to the up, our moorings would enable us to
bottom, and even distinguished little weather it without any risk.
fishes sporting around the keel of our I was roused early vext morning by
vessel.
a confused noise upon deck. When I
Four of the seamen were dead, but got there, I found the men gazing in-
the mate and the remaining three had tently over the side of the ship, and
so far recovered, as to be able to walk inquired if our anchor held fast?-
across the deck. The ship was alınost “ Ay, ay," returned one of them,
in a disabled state. Part of the wreck “ rather faster than we want it.” On
of the fore-top-mast lay upon her bows, approaching the bulwarks, and look-
and the rigging and sails of the main- ing down, I perceived, to my horror
mast had suffered much injury. The and astonishment, all the corpses lying
mate told me, that the soundings, and at the bottom of the sea, as if they had
almost every thing else, proved we just been dropt into it
. We could
were on the Bahama banks, though even distinguish their features glim-
he had not yet ascertained on what mering confusedly through the super-
part
of them we lay, and consequent- incumbent mass of ocean.
A large
ly could not say whether we had much block happened to fall overboard, and
chance of soon falling in with any the agitation which it occasioned in
vessel.
the sea produced an apparent augmen-
The day passed gloomily. We re- tation of their number, and a horrible
garded every cloud that rose upon the distortion of their limbs and counte-
horizon as the fore-runner of a breeze, nances. A hundred corpses seemed
which we above all things feared to to start up and struggle wildly to-
encounter. Much of our time was em- gether, and then gradually to vanish
ployed in preparing for the painful among the eddying waters, as they
but necessary duty of interring the subsided into a state of calmness.
dead. The carpenter soon got ready a We were now exempted from the
sufficient number of boards, to each of ravages and actual presence of death,
which we bound one of the corpses, but his form haunted us without in-
and also weights enough to make it termission. We hardly dared to look
sink to the bottom.
over the ship’s side, lest
our eyes should
About ten at night, we began to encounter the ghastly features of some
commit the bodies to the deep. A one who had formerly been a com-
dead calm had prevailed the whole panion, and at whose funeral rites we
day, and not a cloud obscured the sky. had recently assisted. The seamen
The sea reflected the stars so distinctly, began to murmur among themselves,


412
The Fatal Repost
[July,
saying that we would never be able to a place whereon they can rest the
leave the spot where we then were, soles of their feet, till it pleases the
and that our vessel would rot away as Lord Almighty to release them from
fast as the dead bodies that lay be their bondage and take them to him,
Death it.
self.”
In the evening, a strong breeze Next morning I was awakened by
sprung up, and filled us with hopes the joyful intelligence that a schooner
that some vessel would soon come in was in sight, and that she had hoisted
sight, and afford us relief. At sunset, her flag in answer to our signals. She
when the mate was giving directions bore down upon us with a good wind,
about the watch, one of the seamen and in about an hour hove to, and
cried
out;
“ Thanked be God, there spoke us. When we had informed
they are." And the other ran up to him, them of our unhappy situation, the
saying, “ Where, where?” He point- captain ordered the boat to be lowered,
ed to a flock of Mother Carey's chickens and came on board of our vessel, with
that had just appeared astern, and be three of his crew. He was a thick,
gan to count how many there were of sbort, dark-complexioned man, and
them. I inquired what was the mat- his language and accent discovered
ter, and the mate replied, “ Why, him to be a native of the southern
only that we've seen the worst, that's States of America. The mate immedi.
all, master. I've a notion we'll fall ately proceeded to detail minutely al!
in with a sail before twenty hours that happened us, but our visitor paid
are past.”—“ Have you any particular very little attention to the narrative,
reason for thinking so?" said I.“ To and soon interrupted it, by asking of
be sure I have,” returned he ; “ aren't what our cargo consisted. Having been
them there birds the spirits of those satisfied on this point, he said, “ See-
brave fellows we threw overboard last ing as how things stand, I conclude
night? I knew we never would be able you'll be keen for getting into some
to quit this place till they made their port.”—“ Yes, that of course is our
appearance above water. However, I'm earnest wish," replied the mate, "and
not quite sure how it may go with us we hope to be able by your assistance
yet,' continued he, looking anxiously to accomplish it."-" Ay, we must
astern ; they stay rather long about all assist one another,” returned the
our ship."-" I have always under- captain-"Well, I was just calcula,
stood,” said I, “ that these birds indi- ting, that your plan would be to run
cate bad weather, or some unfortunate into New Providence I'm bound for
event, and this appears to me to be St. Thomas's, and you can't expect
true.' Ay, ay," replied he, " they that I should turn about, and go
say experience teaches fools, and I have right back with you-neither that I
found it so; there was a time when I should let you have any of my sea-
did not believe that these creatures men, for I'll not be able to make
were any thing but common birds, but a good trade unless I get slick into
now I know another story--Oh I've port. Now I have three niger slaves
witnessed such strange things !- Isn't on board of me, - curse them, they
it reasonable to suppose, that these lit- don't kuow much about sea-matters,
tle creatures, having once been such as and are as lazy as hell, but keep
we are, should feel a sort of friendli- fogging them, mister,-keep flogging
Dess towards a ship's crew, and wish them I say,—by which means, you
to give warning when bad weather or will make them serve your ends. Well
,
bad fortune is a-head, that every inan as I was saying, I will let you have
may be prepared for the worst?"-"Do them blacks to help you, if you'll buy
you conceive," said I," that any people them of me at a fair price, and pay it
but seamen are ever changed into the down in hard cash."-" This propo-
birds we have been talking of?”—“No, sal,” said the mate," sounds strange
for certain not,” answered the mate; enough to a British seaman;-and how
" and none but the sailors that are much do you ask for your slaves ?"-
drowned, or thrown overboard after “ I can't let them go under three hun-
death. While in the form of Carey's dred dollars each," replied the captain;
chickens, they undergo a sort of pur “ I guess they would fetch more in St
gatory, and are punished for their Thomas's, for they're prime I swear."
sins. They fly about the wide ocean, _“Why, there isn't that sum of money
far out of sight of land, and never find on board this vessel, that I know of,


1821.]
The Fatul Repast.
413
answered the mate ; " and though I mast, which had hitherto encumbered
could pay it myself, I'm sure the own. the deck, and put up a sort of jury-
ers never would agree to indemnify me. mast in its stead, on which they rigged
I thought you would have afforded us two sails. When these things were
every assistance without asking any accomplished, we got up our moorings,
thing in return,-a British sailor would and laid our course for New Provi-
have done so at least."-"Well, I vow dence. The mate had fortunately been
you are a strange man,” said the cap- upon the Bahama seas before, and was
tain. « Isn't it fair that I should get aware of the difficulties he would have
something for my nigers, and for the to encounter in navigating them. The
chance I'll run of spoiling my trade at weather continued moderate, and after
St Thomas's, by making myself short two days of agitating suspense, we
of men? But we sha’nt split about a made Exuma Island, and cast anchor
small matter, and I'll lessen the price near its shore.
by twenty dollars a-head." " It is The arrival of our vessel, and all
out of the question, sir," cried the the circumstances connected with this
mate, “ I have no money."-" Oh event, were soon made known upon the
there's no harm done,” returned the island ;'and a gentleman, who resided
captain,"we can't trade, that's all. Get on his plantation, sent to request our
ready the boat, boys I guess your men company at his house. We gladly ac-
will soon get smart again, and then, cepted his hospitable offers, and imme-
if the weather holds moderate, you'll diately went ashore.
reach port with the greatest of ease.' Those only who have been at sea,
-" You surely do not mean to leave can conceive the delight which the ap-
us in this barbarous way?" cried I; pearance of trees and verdurous fields
“ the owners of this vessel would, i theodours of fruits and flowers and
am confident, pay any sum rather than the sensations of security and freedom
that we should perish through your that arise from treading on the earth,
inhumanity:"-"Well
, mister, I've got produce in the mind, at the termina-
owners too,” replied he, “and my busi- tion of a long voyage. Every step we
ness is to make a good voyage for them. took, seemed to infuse additional vi-
Markets are pretty changeable just gour into our limbs. Our host met
now, and it won't do to spend time us at the door of his mansion, and im-
talking about humanity-money's the mediately introduced us to his wife and
word with me."
family, and likewise to several persons
Having said this, he leaped into the who were visitors at the time. We
boat, and ordered his men to row to- were ushered into an airy hall; the
wards his own vessel. Whenever they window-curtains of which had just
got on board, they squared their top- been sprinkled with water and the
sail, and bore away, and were soon juice of limes. The odour of the
out of the reach of our voices. We fruit, and the coolness produced by the
looked at one another for a little time evaporation of the fluid, exerted a most
with an expression of quiet despair, and tranquillizing influence upon the mind,
then the seamen began to pour forth and made the distressing scenes I had
a torrent of invectives, and abuse, recently witnessed pass from my re-
against the heartless and avaricious membrance like a dream. We were
shipmaster who had inhumanly de- soon conducted into another apart-
serted us. Major
Land his wife, ment, where an elegant banquet, and
being in the cabin below, heard all a tasteful variety of the most exquisite
that passed. When the captain first wines, awaited us. Here we continued
came on board, they were filled with till evening, and then returned to the
rapture, thinking that we would cer- hall. From its windows, we beheld
tainly be delivered from the perils and the setting sun, curtained by volumes
difficulties that environed us; but as of gloriously-coloured clouds, and shed-
the conversation proceeded, their hopes ding a dazzling radiance upon the sea,
gradually diminished, and the conclu- which stretched in stillness to the
sion of it, madc Mrs L give way to horizon. Our vessel lay at a lit-
a flood of tears, in which I found her tle distance; and when a small wave
indulging when I went below. happened to break upon her side, she
The mate now endeavoured to en- seemed, for a moment, to be encircled
courage the seamen to exertion. They with gems. The dews had just begun
eleared away the wreck of the fore-top- to fall, and that composing stillness,


The Fatal Repast.
[July,
which, in tropical climates, pervades hamians, shewed that the music affect-
all nature at such a time, was undis- end their hearts, as much as it delight-
turbed by the slightest murmur of any ed their ears.
kind. Two young ladies sat down to When the night was advanced, we
a harp and a piano, and a gentleman retired to sleep-lulled by the plea-
accompanied them upon the flute. The sing consciousness of being secure from
harmony was perfected by the rich those misfortunes and dangers, to the
gushing voice of one of the females of invasions of which we had of late been
our party; and the flushed cheeks, and so cruelly exposed.
trembling eyelids of the charming Ba-
ON THE PROBABLE INFLUENCE OF MORAL AND RELIGIOUS INSTRUCTION ON
THE CHARACTER AND SITUATION OF SEAMEN.
No. I.
“On Sundays, divine service was invariably performed, and a sermon read on board
of both ships; the prayer appointed to be daily used at sea being altered so as to adapt
it to the service in which we were engaged, the success which had hitherto attended our
efforts, and the peculiar circumstances under which we were placed. The attention paid
by the men to their religious duties, was such as to reflect on them the highest credit,
and tended in no small degree to the preservation of that regularity and good conduct,
for which, with very few exceptions, they were invariably distinguished.”
Parry's VOYAGE, P. 126.
Few subjects could, we should think, riods of their diversified existence; but
come at any time before English read- seem to change their whole character,
ers, recommended to their attention by as they pass, with each concluding voy-
so many claims and associations, as an age, from the extreme of constraint
inquiry into the present situation and to the most unbounded licence, or from
character of British seamen, and the circumstances of any sort favourable to
degree in which it may be rationally the developement of their good quali-
anticipated that both will be ameliora- ties, to others which call forth chiefly
ted, by the communication to them of their bad.
those advantages of moral and religious Such an inquiry too would seem para
instruction, the attempt to disseminate ticularly calculated to be useful at the
which, among all classes of society, is present moment, when exaggeration is
the honourable distinction of the age the foible of the day, and a latitude is
in which we live. Their intrinsic va- admitted, particularly in speculations
lue, as one of these classes, is well of this sort, neither founded, we must
known, and highly appreciated by the be allowed to think, in reason nor
prudent and politic. Speaking of the experience. Moral and religious in-
men only, and without reference to struction is not merely considered as a
their officers, the conscientious should most excellent means for the attain-
remember, that having been for the ment of certain definite ends, but its
most part impressed into the service of very name is employed as a sword by
their country, in as far as they can be which to cut every Gordian knot in po
considered victims at all, they are the litical disquisition. Now, we are far
unwilling victims of her temporal in- from wishing to underrate its value;
terests. The gay must love a light, but we are assured that delusion is un-
heartedness kindred to their own, and favourable to every good cause, chiefly
which, in them, danger and difficulty because it is penetrated by some, and
are found only momentarily to damp. must therefore be sometimes suspected
Their almost infantine simplicity on by all. On the present occasion, it will
some points, and openness to external not be denied us, we believe, that the
impressions on all, should rouse in their human mind, in this resembling inert
favour the kindly and compassionate matter, will not, in the main, be oper-
feelings of the benevolent. While even ated on per saltum :—whatever the ex-
the coldest and most frivolous might ternal iinpulse impressed on it, the ef-
be expected to feel some emotion of at fect is progressive according to the cir-
least curiosity, when offered authen- cumstances in which it is placed, and
tic particulars respecting a race of men the nature of its own constitution, the
unlike every other,—who do not even medium along which its simple per-
resemble themselves at different pe- ceptions are conveyed, till they become
13


1891. )
On the Character of Seameno
415
principles of feeling or of aetion. On One or two explanations are, howe
che other hand, we have no warrant ever, still necessary before proceeding.
from experience upon which to infer, We live in times when the antipodes
that moral and religious instruction is are not more remote than the religious
exempt in its operation from this com- professions of different classes of indivi.
mon law to which other agencies are duals, one party, in particular, pronoun-
submitted ; on the contrary, whatever cing every thing serious to be puritani-
opinion we may entertain of individual cal, another, what is not wrought up to
cases of conversion, in general its suc- their own pitch, formal and unavail-
cess is found to be squared pretty ex. ing. Now we are laymen, and have no
actly by the favourable or unfavoura- thought of mediating in such strifes.
ble circumstances of the case in which Non nostrum est ; and we shall usc the
it is applied. Surely, then, in specula- word religion, therefore, with all its
ting for the future on this success, it relatives, uniformly in the intermedi-
were wise to take these always into ate signification current with the ge-
some consideration, particularly in a nerality of the world, in charity con-
department in which, as shall present- cluding that wherever we see its form,
ly be shewn, they are more uniform in there also some portion of its suba
their nature, and more authoritative in stance will be found. In like manner,
their influence, than perhaps in any a diversity of opinion exists in the
other. And that is an acceptable ser- same quarters, respecting the necessity
vice to the common cause which tends of religious instruction for the eternal
to unveil them in a case where the salvation of mankind, one party seem,
knowledge of them is necessarily limit- ing to consider, that where opportuni-
ed to a few individuals, themselves ties of obtaining it have not been
long subjected to their sway, and con- vouchsafed, men's gifts will be recei-
sequently, in some degree, unconscious ved according to that which “ they
of their operation; and leaves them in have, not that which they have not ;
every one's hands to appreciate as he the other deeming its want alone, how
is able or disposed.
ever involuntary, a penal crime ;-but
Impressed with these ideas, and our we shall equally avoid this snare, by
selves taking a warm interest in the having nothing to do with the other
subject, although our estimate of it is world at all, confining all our specula-
a sober one, we had almost approached tions to the interests of this. And last-
it in our last Number, when analyzing ly, we shall do this, however, not so
the proceedings and results of the late much because we are laymen, as because
North-west expedition; and had, at we think the interests in question inti-
one time, marked, with this view, the mately connected, and that it would be
passage in Captain Parry's Narrative well for the world at large if the maxim
which we pretix to our present paper, were more generally acknowledged, -
to be extracted on that oceasion. On and worldly men, when in doubt about
considering the matter a little more what was politic, inquired oftener what
elosely, however, we saw that it was was right; and religious men, when
plainly impossible to do the subject hesitating or differing with each other
the least justice in the corner of an about what was right, asked oftener
article, already superabundantly long what was useful. There is the highest
and miscellaneous; besides which, we authority for such a rule, for we are
may add, it was somewhat too compli- expressly told that of men, and by a
cated and difficult to be entered on with very slight extension it may be said
so little premeditation as we could of measures too, “ By their fruits ye
then afford it. We recur to it now, shall know them.” Not to mention
however ;—thus early, that we may that it seems the very constitution of
have the advantage of referring to a our nature, to be first affected by near
recent experiment in point, and not motives, and then gradually to become
unwilling, besides, to give thus our ab- sensible of those which are more re-
stract speculations the advantage of mote; the habitual disregard of which
connexion with the events of a voy- principle, on the part of those most zeal-
age, over which, we are happy to ob- ous in the cause of religion through-
serve, public interest is still disposed out the world, does it more disservice,
to linger, after curiosity has passed we are persuaded, than all the oppo-
away.
sition it is anywhere exposed to, and
VOL. IX.
3 F


416
On the Character of Seamen.
[July,
a
by the
which in most cases seems to us to exist there has been much exaggeration on
chiefly in the imagination of its enthu- the subject, are easily resolvable into
siastic servants.
a few simple principles founded on the
Taking the subject up, then, in the circumstances in which they are placed,
simplest form which at present occurs and which, never being disturbed by
to us, with the anecdote prefixed, as a. any extraneous influence, exercise a
sort of text, and the ships' companies far more despotic sway over each indi-
of the Hecla and Griper as average spe vidual in their case than in any other.
cimens of seamen in general, the ques They necessarily leave home early,
tions to be resolved seem to be the fol before their personal habits or principles
lowing :- 1. What is the philosophy, are matured, and, when they join a
so to speak, of such men's professional man-of-war, for the first time, are
character under ordinary circumstances cooped up in a very narrow space
-what, in particular, the points about with a great number of others, once cir-
them, which, being generated by cir- cumstanced like themselves, but now
cumstances in which they are neces- fixed in all their professional peculiari-
sarily placed, may be considered ge- ties. They are all lodged together, eat
neric characters, to be kept steadily in together, live together ; their lives and
view in all our subsequent reasoning fortunes set on the turn of the same
concerning them ?-II. Among these die, embarked, in their own phrase, in
points are there any which furnish in« the same boat; and, from the nature of
ternal testimony to the accuracy of their labour, for the most part too
Captain Parry's statements, viz. that heavy to be accomplished singly, de-
very little which he seems to pendent for success in nearly all they
have done in this way, he actually did attempt on union and combination of
convey religious impressions to the effort. They come early to feel them-
minds of his people, and that these selves accordingly to be rather parts
made them more orderly; or, on the of a whole, than separate individuals,
contrary, may the whole be accounted and the impression is further heighten-
for on other principles ?-III. If the ed by the little store set by their con-
former, and the same means were yenience, or even lives, when a common
deemed adequate to command the object is in pursuit. From this first
same effect on all occasions, to what ex- principle a great many consequences
tent would a similar, or improved sys- How ;-the remarkable similarity of
tem of this nature, introduced into the their habitsand manners;-their regard
whole service, and patronized by offi- for each other, and the ship to which
cers of all descriptions of character, they belong, equally with themselves
even although in many cases it were a part of the machine ;-their general
only for the temporal effect, improve disinterestedness, and attachment to a
the situation and character of seamen good officer, even though a severe one.
whileon board ship? And lastly, How But there is one of more moment than
far would its impressions be probably the others, and which we do not re-
permanent on them when released collect to have seen before observed.
from the immediate sphere of their Whatever the impulse, they move un-
action ? Would they become more pru- der its guidance with the momentum of
dent, orderly, and moral on shore also a mass, rather than the force of single
through their means, equal on any of individuals. Heartening each other on,
these points to the average of their they are extreme alike in good and
countrymen possessed of equal advan- evil, not their virtues only, but also
tages of instruction ? We shall endea- their vices, being kept in countenance,
vour to answer each of these questions and encouraged by the example and
in their order ; the first now, the re- competition of all their fellows. And
mainder as our own leisure may serve, the strictness of discipline maintained
and we find ourselves enabled to excite over them, has also some connection
or to gratify public curiosity on the with this, for the hand controuling
subject.
such men, must be felt sometimes on
I. Seamen have been often deline- the lion's mane.
ated, sometimes caricatured, and in This last, however, is rendered ne-
both cases for the most part represent- cessary by other considerations, in par-
ed in colours apparently licterogeneous. ticular by the constant demand there
The truth is, however, that such ano- is in a sailor's life for promptitude of
malies as they really do exhibit, for action. Were any room leit, on the


1821.]
On the Character of Seamen.
417
issuing of orders, for deliberation on lion to the most perfect good order,
the part of those whose duty it was to the next minute apparently forgetful
execute them, whether they were right of the extraordinary nature of the
or not, in three instances out of four change which they had undergone. In
the best might as well be withheld.- consequence of which it has become
But its consequences in the formation unusual, and is, we believe, always un-
of seamen's character also ramify very necessary, sometimes even inexpedient,
widely. Their advice never asked, their to separate a crew after such a transi-
praise or censure never regarded, their tion. While kept together, all are ac-
obedience only required, (and that in' quainted with particulars, all are a
all cases more easily, and in many more little crest-fallen, willing to forget the
pleasantly rendered, as the hounded whole; or, if they look back at all,
bull-dog rushes, with the eyes shut which is neither long nor often, emu-
rather than open,) they gradually come lous to retrieve their characters in the
to hang exclusively on external im- eyes of their officers. Were they se-
pulses for motives of action.* Hence parated, they would only get telling
the readiness with which they, for the their story, aggravated in all its cha-
most part, take their tone, as it were, racters, each to a gaping audience,
from a superior, fall into his ways, ac- grow boastful in their language, reá
quiesce chearfully even with his ca- sentful in their hearts; and not unfre-
prices, if, in the main, he has their quently end by putting mischief into
respect. Hence, too, their dependance, heads, their own among the number,
when in misfortune, on the attitude which would never otherwise have con-
maintained by their officers, their help- ceived it.
lessness when cast on their own re This forgetfulness, however, is itself
sources, their reckless submission to a trait of character, and falls next to
adversity, and some part of their im- be accounted for. It has its origin in
providence in prosperity. And the ob- a circumstance also bearing very wide-
servation is still more important, as re- ly on the whole being of a seaman-the'
conciling contradictory qualities which changeableness of his life. Within cer-
have frequently been remarked in them, tain limits every thing is fluctuating
-the obstinate determination which about him ; even the little variations
they exhibit even after their officers fall, of weather, which pass unheeded over
when they are fighting in obedience to the landsman's head, “ who lives at
the legitimate authority placed over home at ease,” essentially affect his ar-
them, and their extreme pusillanimity rangements and comforts; and many
in mutinies, when their ringleaders circumstances, chiefly of internal eco-
are either arrested or put to death. In nomy, heighten this effect. No day
the one case, the impulse has nothing thus exactly resembling another, a
to do with the person of their chiets, sailor lives only for the present mo-
unless in rare instances, when these ment, -the past stored up in his mind
are singularly confided in, or some dis- merely for gossip, the future altogether
trust is entertained of their successors: disregarded ; and some peculiar mo-
-it is consequently abiding. In the difications of this are worth adverting
other, it is all personal, and vanishes to. He is not revengeful,-he is not
at once with the individuals who im- grateful ; we could say that he was ex-"
pressed it. And many instances have clusively selfish, were it not that the
thus occurred, particularly in the great principles which guide him are so in-
mutiny of 1797, of ships' companies terwoven, in this respect there is a
passing, with scarcely an interval of sort of grace attached to his selfishness
hesitation, from a state of open rebel- which redeems it in some degree from
Many amusing anecdotes are told illustrative of the extent to which this is carried ;
but none more characteristic than the following.--Some sailors begging in the streets of
London, in the time of the great distress among them, were met by an officer, and asked
by him, why, when in such want, they did not enter on board some of the ships in the
river, then requiring men ?-“And why don't they press us,” said Jack, a little indig-
nantly, “ if they want us ? We should be very glad to go, but we can't make up our,
minds to offer."' And thus, be it observed with reverence, is the “ wind tempered to
the shorn lamb ;” and so beautifully and wonderfully are we made, that the harshest
rod of power wielded in our land of freedom, becomes, in certain circumstances, al statt
against which the simple hearts of some of the wildest and bravest of us desire to loan !


418
On the Character of Seamen.
[July,
the odinm of the name. The com- critical moment, the revulsionis in
munity of feeling, to which we have vincible, and scarcely any exertions are
already, adverted, produces this.- above their strength, or success above
Through its operation, no injuries their attainment. in our last num-
or inconveniences personal to him- ber, we noticed an illustration of one
self, and covered with even a mis- of these traits of character, in the ship's
taken pursuit of the common good, as companies of the Hecla and Griper;
when a man happens to be at any time and the following anecdotes will be
unjustly punished, in any material de found to apply to some of the others
gree impair the character of a good of- One of our frigates last war, in which
ficer in his estimation ; nor is it ever the discipline had been most unjustifi-
too late for such an one, should he be ably severe, was at length taken by a
come conscious either of individual in- French squadron, after sustaining a
justice, or of having acted generally on long and destructive cannonade; and
a system somewhat too harsh, to make it was reported and believed, that many
all up again without an acknowledge of her crew on the occasion, in order
ment, with scarcely an effort, with to insure her capture, fired only pow-
the more ease, in fact, that he has been der from their guns, indifferent to all
previously more severe. The memory the passions that usually dictate a
of former harshness does not prevent most opposite conduct, and which,
the effect of present moderation, and on the contrary, unless minutely
it operates as a warning against abusing watched, cram them with three or
it. On the other hand, no series of four shot, upon a principle not much
personal favours from a novice are ever wiser, nor less dangerous to themselves,
regarded at all; and even from the than poor Sachouse's“ Plenty powder,
best officer in existence they will not plenty kill."*-When the Grasshop-
prevent desertion, if a sufficient temp- per, of 18 guns, drove across the Haak
tation is at any time held out to sun- Sands, on the coast of Holland, in
der other ties. And thus it is in every December 1811, an old pilot on board
thing: a sailor's experience contri- expressed his fears in the most vehe-
butes to his enjoyments, and the na- ment manner. At the same moment,
ture of it frequently gives him influ- a young scamp, the first lieutenant's
ence with his comrades. It will some servant, who was flogged generally
times serve him also as a guide, when once a-week for something or other,
no passion interferes with it. But it came flying up the hatchway in his
never supplies him with a motive; for shirt, terror in every feature, and ask
that he always looks to the present ed an old boatswain's mate, if there
hour.
was any danger." Danger ! no; bless
Seamen's spirits are at all times elas- ings on your gallows face, no dan-
tic, provided that, in the main, they are ger of drowning where you are,” was
well treated and provided for. Under the scoffing reply. The ship’s com-
ordinary circumstances, they will dance pany, generally, stood suspended be
and sing at a moment's notice-be their tween the two extremes; but the ne-
pint with their messmates, even when cessary steps, as required, were imme-
themselves at the instant indifferent diately taken, and they ultimately bem
to the gratification-and they curvet haved very well. The only man losty
readily, and even gracefully, under the it was afterwards observed, (for sail-
hand which they know to be that ators are always superstitious,) was the
once of a master and a friend. But, if pilot.-And when the Conquistador,
harshly treated, they are sullen; if un- of 74 guns, got on shore on the coast
skilfully commanded, restive and as of France in 1812-13, and appeared in
suming ; if involved in imminent and the most imminent danger, the crew
unexpected danger, skittish, and sin- decidedly flinched at first. But the
gularly dependant on the countenance late Lord William Stuart, who then
maintained by their officers on the oc- commanded her, called them aft, and
casion. If they flinch, they are gone, told them, "he believed they were in
and no scene can equal in disorder a scrape, but it could not make much
that which ensues; but if they are firm, difference to them whether they dial
or gay, or, above all, eccentric at the like men or like children, and he there-
* Ross's Voyage, p. 56.


1821.]
On the Character of Seamen.
419
fore expected they would do their du- happening, and a certain feeling of un-
ty." His lordship was a severe, and even certainty is accordingly unavoidable.
unpopular officer ; but the effect of this And although skill and prudence can
address was quite electrical, the most avert danger, they cannot remove it
incredible exertions were made, mi- quite out of sight. While, therefore, its
nute discipline observed, and the ship, several forms become familiar and un-
in the end, brought into an English heeded, the precautions which its vi-
port in a sinking state.
cinity renders indispensible, impose
On board of all ships, a sailor is fed many an irksome and weary restraint,
byhis employer; and, in a man-of-war, for which some indemnification is
where alone any regard is had to qua- sought in the wildest frolics, during
lity or uniformity of dress, although the brief intervals of enjoyment and
cloathed at his own ultimate expence, repose.
if he has been extravagant, and cannot Danger, barely kept at arm's length,
purchase with ready money on shore, necessarily involves hair-breadth escape
he can obtain credit on board for this from it ; and, in consequence, there is
purpose only, to nearly the amount no idea more thoroughly imbued in
of his current wages. In this way, no sailors, than that of a particular Pro-
excess or prodigality of which be can vidence" A sweet little cherub that
be guilty, immediately receives its ap- sits up aloft, to keep watch for the life
propriate punishment in the shape of of poor Jack."-We are desirous of
distress ; and he naturally acquires the speaking to this point very directly,
habit of squandering on all occasions, because we believe a good deal of mis-
to the full extent of his present means. apprehension exists respecting it. A
He can always" go on board for more,” sailor's religion is darkened by his ig-
as the old song has it; and the fag norance-degraded by some tradition-
ends of old songs, which, by the way, al superstitions--and ħis habitual reck-
always preach up prodigality,* are a lessness and impetuosity precipitate
sailor's proverbs, and go much farther him frequently into profanity. But
with him, than is very easily conceiva- the embryo sentiment is still there, and
ble by those who are ballasted with scarcely waits, on many occasions, for
more lore. His pleasures are coarse, an external impulse to evolve it. In its
partly because he knows no better; present state, it is accompanied with
but in a great degree, we apprehend, that particular respect for the modifi-
because his time is short, and better cation of Christianity professed in his
cannot be summoned and dismissed own country, which exhibits itself in
with quite the same facility. Such as respectful neglect of its forms, and vi-
they are, they are enjoyed with an in- tuperation of all others. No man hates
tensity, of which it is difficult to ex- popish or idolatrous superstitions more
press the degree, but most easy to as- cordially than does a seaman ;--ac-
sign the causes.--Although the sea is cording to that most singular law of
not certainly now a very dangerous our nature illustrated, our readers will
profession, the improvements of art recollect, with much humour, in one
and science having submitted its chief of the papers of Goldsmith's Citizen
difficulties to very tolerable calculation, of the World, which makes us, on cer-
still some casualty or other is always tain points particularly, tenacious about
In truth, the source of their influence, cause and effect reproducing each other.
Come counsel, dear Titty, don't tarry,
I'll gi'e ye my bonnie black hen,
Gif ye will advise me to marry,
The lad I lo'e dearly, Tam Glen.-Burns.
+ Prepare the feast !
Free is his heart, who for his country fights ;
He, in the eve of battle, may resign
Himself to social pleasure
sweetest then
When danger to a soldier's soul endears
The human joy that ncver may return.
We do not say that these sentiments are right-only that they exist.


1821.)
On the Character of Seamen.
421
condescend to pity him in this world, thus no charge of his individual des-
and presume* to condemn him in the tiny, scarcely any sense of his indivi-
next, on their account. Yet still, we dual existence, because he is, and,
repeat it, he is a fool and a child, with were he wise as Solomon, and happy
all these advantages,-or rather, we and pious as Mr Owen or his still
should say, just because he has them, better friends could wish him, if his
- because the details of his character country is to have his services at all,
are filled up by circumstances over he must remain, the puppet of an-
which he has no control.-because he is other's will, the nursling of another's
secluded from the lessons of prudence care, neither guided nor protected by
and virtue which are read in the pages his own.
of vicissitude directly consequent on
E.
his own conduct,-because he has
O but man, proud man,
Drest in a litle brief authority,
Most ignorant of what he's most assured,
-Like an angry ape,
Plays such fantastic tricks before high Heaven,
As make the angels weep.
Measure for Measure.
LETTER TO LORD BYRON.
This is a pamphlet worth attending nothing can be more absurd than his
to, not so much for its matter, which Church of Englandism, except his
is rather on the order of trash, or its Chrestomathia, -that his book on Re-
style, which is something absurd, but form in Parliament is a concern hard-
for the author, and the singular ver- ly less stupid than his late affair on
satility he has displayed in writing it, Juries,-and so on; but we still con-
and the great improvement so old a tend for it, that his age accounts for
gentleman has made in his manner of all; and that he is no more to be
composition. In some of our own blamed for committing such books,
writings,- for really we are almost the than for carrying a stick, or using a
only people worth quoting now-d- pair of spectacles. Nay, it is only last
days, we have remarked, with per- Tuesday three weeks that we betted a
fect propriety, that as a man advances supper for fourteen that Jerry had
in years, he grows old. Nobody, we originally some small talent-saysome-
innagine, will be hardy enough to de- thing about the calibre of Christian
ny that-no, not even Major Cart- Curwen—which we illustrated by his
wright. We followed up this ingeni- book on usury, a work bearing marks
ous remark by stating, that no one of intellect far superior to the pro-
could be reasonably blamed for doing duction of an average Edinburgh Re-
so, and that, of course, it would be viewer. We added, also, that when
rather unjust to say a word against a he could get anyone like Dumont suffi-
man for occasional dimness or offus- ciently learned to understand the Ethi-
cation of mental faculty, arising from opic tongue, in which he speaks and
this natural defect. We, therefore, writes, he really produced something
have always defended to the utmost of on legislation or cookery, we forget
our power the present Jeremy Ben- which, not hastily to be despised by a
tham. Every where we hear bim call- man whose studies did not extend
ed an old woman—as if old women much farther than the Morning Chro-
were not a respectable portion of so- nicle. In fact, we said more in his
ciety-a driveller, a dotard, and other praise than we perhaps would have
opprobrious expressions, which really said before dinner, and went so far as
is very unfair. We allow, indeed, that to give it as our opinion, that if he
+ Letter to the Right Hon. Lord Byron ; by John Bull. (Jeremy Bentham, Esq.1
London, Wright, 182). It is hardly fair, by the way, for Mr Bentham to endeavour
to sell his pamphlet by assuming the naine of that very clever paper which he is con-
stantly censuring.
1


422
Letter to Lord Byron.
(July,
left off writing politics and such mat. fair fellow. Ha, ha, my lail! contra
ters, with which we all know he is no dict us again if you dare.” Our friend
more acquainted than Alderman Wood read over the book with rather a grave
is with polite literature, and took up aspect, and, on finishing, said that he
some other subject, he would prove could not agree with us, for he thought
that he was not altogether a jack-ass. it as stupid as the Reform Catechism,
The bet was accepted on the spot, and and would hold that he had won. And
in the morning, though we forgot the this article, my dear public, is not
entire circumstance, the other party written for you, because you have not
took good care to remind us of it, by seen the pamphlet at all, but for the
shewing us the thing fairly entered in private satisfaction of our antagonist,
his memorandum book, in a hand not and for the promotion of the great
particularly regular, yet far too legible cause of the supper.
for our peace of mind. We repented You may think, my dear old lady,
our rashness, and made many a vain that we are going to panegyrize the
attempt at hedging off, but we could book out of a selfish motive, with, as
not get a man in Edinburgh to bet. the Cockneys would say, a down-look-
We even went to the Shepherd himself, ing, out-breathing emotion towards
and were considerably mortified by his sundry eatables and drinkables; but
instantly exclaiming="Hout, man, far from us be so foul an impulse.
what, bet that that Bentham chap is Decent trencher and bottle men though
no a jack-ass ?-na, na! daft I may we be, yet justice is paramount, it
be, but no that gomeril neither.” We rides rough shod over our souls. Ami-
plainly saw we were laughed at, and cus Plato, amicus Socrates sed magis
could not help sighing when we con- amica veritas,-orrather, amicus Veni-
sidered the fourteen voracious Anthro- son, amicus Claret, sed magis,&c. And
pophagi who would infallibly be pitch- at once we shall give an extract from
ed on, blessing our stars that O'Dogh- the pamphlet, which, though an ama-
erty was out of Edinburgh, however. zingly shabby attempt at wit, is not
Sad visions of departing coopers of altogether so abominably absurd an
claret, in endless succession-of cour, affair as you commonly find Jerry
ses demolished-of broken glasses, guilty of when he attempts to be
and, worst of all, of the tremendous jocose. It concerns Dr Watts.
bill staring us in the face, made us ra-
“ There is, for example, a most lum.
ther melancholy, and we were under bering Goth in the Literary Gazette, who
that feeling when we wrote the moum- has been trying to prove that you are the
ful adventures in the Havanna in our most extensive and the most impudent of
last. God forgive us!instead of thinking plagiarists. In order to establish this, he
of the scenes we so pathetically painted proves against your Lordship about the
there, our inmost mind was turned five-hundredth part of what might be pro-
upon Mr Oman's head-waiter, whom ved by any man of the smallest learning
we already anticipated calling on us against any one poet born since the death
with a bill—“Supper for 14," and his of Homer; and of what any man of sense
master's compliments, requesting
that living in Homer's time (if indeed there ever
it should be discharged as soon as con-
was any such person as Homer) could, I
venient. Treacherous civility!
doubt not, have proved with equal success
against old Homer himself. Two things,
This pamphlet, however, relieved however, there are, which this Theban has
us. Glad were we the morning it proved in a most satisfactory manner in-
made its appearance in Edinburgh. deed : and these are his own base igno-
Our bet was won. Here is a pamphlet rance, and his still baser envy. It is clear
on poetry by Jeremy Bentham, that is that your adversary has never read almost
actually in half a dozen places intelli- any poetry at all: for he blames your
gible, and, though absurd enough in Lordship most bitterly for copying things
all conscience, yet a fair step above from Scott, Wordsworth, and so forth,
Special Juries. In a triumphant mood which any boarding-school miss that has
we shewed it to our friend. “You are
read the Elegant Extracts could have told
beaten,” we exclaimed, “ beaten hol- him had been copied by them from the
low! let us have the supper to-night-at turies which any Eton lad, again, could
English poets of the two preceding cen-
oncemquam primum-or rather put it have traced to Greek and Latin- and any
off a day or two-it would be shame if puppy that has spent a year beyond the
O'Dogherty was not at it--we intends Alps would have taken a pleasure in shew-
ed sending for him if we lost-he's a ing him, over and over again, embalme!


1821)
Letter to Lord Byron.
423
in that beautiful dialect, of whose beauty We have omitted by-battles with
no English writer (since Gray) appears to Quarterly Reviewers, and somewretch-
Lave had the real feeling but yourself, I ed creatures in Cockaigne, that we
say nothing of the absurdity of the whole might not make our summary too much
idea. There was a man, -as you know, like the House that Jack built ; but so
(though our Goth does not,) who tried to
persuade the world that Sterne had stolen stands the affair : and we give it as our
all his wit from Burton. One thousand decided opinion, that Mr Bowles has
and one attempts have been made of the beaten his Lordship of Byron, and Mr
same kind long ago, and forgotten ; and Campbell himself, the sweet, the beau-
here is one more which will be forgotten in ful poet of Gertrude, hollow out of
due time, that is to say, in another week. the ring; but we do not wish to enter
So much for his ignorance ; his envy, it is into the controversy here. Jerry he did
more difficult to understand. Your Lord- not hear of, or he would have blown
ship writes for the LITERARY WORLD, bim away with a puff;- but we shall
and he writes for the LITERARY GA-
converse a little with the ancient
ZETTE ; and both of you are accepted. bencher of Lincoln.
What would the man have ? Is he not
satisfied with his elevation ? Is he already book, that the primum mobile of the
Lord Byron said somewhere in his
like the Macedonian, sighing for new
conquests? Oh! most insatiable and it. world now-a-days is cant,-a truism,
rational of appetites thy name is ambi, in proof of which we should not de-
tion !”
sire a finer specimen than his own dear
lordship. On this hint Jerry spake,-
Slain art thou, pride of Gothland ! and he has mumbled it over and over
Mowed down in the flower of thy youth with the garrulous mumping of old
by the ass jaw of Jeremiah! Alaric is age. He has got hold of a good thing,
massacred! And our bet is won. as he thinks, and keeps it in his trem-
We shall analyze the pamphlet, bling hands with a comical air of dot-
however, in a little more regular way. age. Every body, according to him,
-The history of the controversy to is a canter; for instance, Mr Wilber-
which it refers is an interminable force, who appears to be honoured by
affair. The mere statement of it has the hostility of every good-for-nothing
all the horrible appearance of a sorites, scribbler in the nation, is put forward
or an old fashioned eighteen-story- as " nothing but cant," a mere avatar
high-house in the old town. Briefly of that great deity. This is amusing
it is this
for a page or two, but we get tired with
1. Mr Bowles wrote a book upon seeing an old man making an ass of
himself through sixty-four pages, all
2. Mr Campbell abused Mr Bowles's in the one ragged and beggarly strain.
book on Pope.
True it is, there is a little variety of
3. Mr Bowles wrote an answer to wretchedness, but not sufficient to be
Mr Campbell's abuse of Mr Bowles's even amusing ; and marks of age are
book on Pope.
visible in every paragraph, as we shall
4. Lord Byron wrote a letter to prove in a short time, by a brief yet
certain stars in Albemarle-street, in regular chain of argument.
answer to Mr Bowles's answer to Mr 1st, then, his mind is evidently
Campbell's abuse of Mr Bowles’s book wandering ; for he begins with an
on Pope.
allusion to Lord Byron's controversy
5. Jeremy Bentham, Esq. wrote a let- with Mr Bowles,-then gets into some
ter to Lord Byron about Lord Byron's maundering upon humbug,—then falls
letter to certain stars in Albemarle- foul of the Goth,—then, a propos
street, in answer to Mr Bowles's an- des bottes, brings in Doctor Southey,
swer to Mr Campbell's abuse of Mr (whom, by the way, he most inso-
Bowles's book on Pope.
lently, and in defiance of the Uni-
6. Mr Bowles wrote an answer, not to versity of Oxford, calls Mr,) Words-
Jeremy Bentham, but to Lord Byron's worth, Lambe, Lloyd, Coleridge, &c.
Letter to certain stars in Albemarle - then sails back to Lord Byron, hauls
street, in answer to Mr Bowles's an- him up and down for a few pages,
swer to Mr Campbell's abuse of Mr then wanders to the Quarterly, -then
Bowles's book on Pope.
to the Opus Magnum, then to the
Pope.
Need we say what this is ? No: small will his discernment be, who will not in-
stantly recognize the Magazine.
VOL. IX.
3G


424
Letter to Lord Byron.
[July,
Edinburgh, my Grandmother, and you ever hear any thing more ridicu-
other ancient works,—then, recollect- lous than this from a stupid pam-
ing himself, waddles back to Lord phleteer, my public? The old gentle-
Byron and Don Juan again, &c. But man's upper story must be a little
there is no use in going through the damaged. Theodore Hook and Jeremy
rest of the rambling. This, then, is Bentham! Unless, perhaps, he meant
the first mark of the brains being gone. Hook and I for a pun-for
20, Every body must have observed,
Gentle dullness ever loves a joke.
that elderly gentlemen very often do
not distinguish themselves by a chas- Enough of this. We could easily
tity of discourse, or a temperance of multiply examples, but there is no
idea, as much as might be expected. need.
The powers of enjoyment of pleasures 4th, Old age in general dims the
may be gone, but the pruriency re- feeling of poetic beauty. It is so in this
mains; and they delight in recurring skimble-skamble stuff. The antedilu-
to joy which they now cannot taste. vian lawyer, as Cobbett calls him, can
Just so with the aged author of this see nothing in Southey but a mere Lau-
pamphlet. He has the face to praise reate receiving butts of sack-in Lamb
the Chevalier de Faublas, a book which nothing but a clerk of the India House,
a gentleman would be ashamed to p. 16—in Wordsworth nothing but a
name; and of all Lord Byron's books, stamp-master, p. 20-49-46.-And it is
the only one he likes is Don Juan; and evident that his reverence for Lord By-
the poor old fellow strongly urges his ron and Sir W. Scott, arises in no slight
lordship to continue the “ filth," (to manner from one being a Baron, and
use his own word, page 36,) of that the other a Baronet, p. 43.-Such in fact
indecent poem, merely to gratify his would we expect a priori. What could
jaded appetite ; and as Spain and other an old jurisconsult, occupied four fifths
foreign parts do not afford scenes suffi- of his life in fighting about the uncog-
ciently stimulant for his English sto- noscibility of common law and other
mach, recommends him to continue such parchment-smelling topics, and
the poem in England, raking up all living in a garret overlooking Hyde-
the dirty stories he can get, for the Park, the very region of the anti-ro-
amusement of this sage elder. It cer- mantic-know of Wordsworth? Not a
tainly is a modest request, to ask his whit: Mr Jeffrey himself would have
lordship to turn pander to the warm more chance of coming to a true percep-
speculations of his unasked correspon- tion of the real beauties of that greatest
dent-but there it is in the book. of our poets. Perhaps, however, our
3d, Vanity and garrulity about self, reformer's antipathy to Southey, Lamb,
is of old set down as a strong charac- or Wordsworth, arises from the circum-
teristic of age, and our antediluvian stance of their receiving salaries, that,
shews both qualities in no small de- we know, being in his mind a most un-
gree. Speaking of Wordsworth and pardonable crime. We recollect read-
the Lake poets, he says, “You and I ing in some of his strange books a ti-
may have a right to laugh at them,” rade against Burke, of whom he re-
page 9. You and I! Lord Byron and membered nothing, but that be receiv-
Jeremy Bentham! O tempora! O ed a pension, (though, in the book be-
mores! Let us look again-perhaps fore us, he does make rather an igno-
we mistake. No, no ; indeed we do rant allusion to his writings, p. 52),-
not. There it is in black and white. and against Pitt, of whom nothing was
You and I may have a right to laugh recorded in the tablets of his memory,
at Wordsworth? Why, Jerry, my dear but that he died some thousand pounds
- fellow, in every thing that constitutes in debt. And it is precisely this ate
a great poet—in all the higher ele- traction to money, that renders him
ments of mind—in all the powers of peculiarly unfit for writing on poetry.
.musical language-Lord Byron him- Christabel he values in proportion to
self is as inferior to Wordsworth, as the sale, p. 18—admires Jeffrey's ta-
your penny trumpet is to a violoncel- lents, because he kept Wordsworth
lo. But the poor man does not under- poor, p. 20—advises Lord B. to write
stand this : so we pass his assurance tragedies to make money,—and speaks
with a sigh.
most handsomely of Sir W. Scott, on
Again, “Theodore Hook and I would account of the length of his purse.
take pains upon our farces," p. 56. Did This we might have made a 5th proof


1821.]
Letter to Lord Byron.
426
of old age, which is the season of ava-
Let this suffice to prove the super-
rice; but it is not worth while. annuation of the author ; but still we
Again, 5thly, A defective memory in must assert, that it shews some pluck
very old men, frequently makes them in so awfully ancient an old woman to
repeat over and over what they have attack a young lord ; and some consi-
said; and people of discernment can- derable improvement, to be able to
not fail to have perceived that when- write nearly three, or even perhaps four
ever such seniors get any incoherent intelligible pages. We therefore are
sounding jabber into their heads, that it much obliged to Jerry of Lincoln, and
is next to impossible to keep them from we flatter ourselves we shall play a
an incessant repetition of it. There are handsome knife and fork in his honour
many instances of this in the little to-morrow evening.
book before us. We shall give one
The various sins of ignorance staring
only, for dinner is waiting for us, and us in the face in every page, we did
of course we must hasten to finish this not think it worth our while to notice ;
article as soon as possible. In his Church for, indeed, if we wished to give them
of Englandism, he had this sentence: in detail, we should have transcribed
“Come forward, Dean Kipling—Come nine-tenths of the book, which would
forward, Dean Andrews Come for- be rather a defilement of our valuable
ward, Bishop Burgess-Come for- pages. The elder, for instance, ima-
ward, Bishop Marsh-Come forward, gines that Aristophanes and Xenophon
Bishop Howly—Come forward, Arch- were not contemporaries—(p. 48;)—
bishop Sutton, &c. And this silly mode and in that same page, as we cast our
of iteration of names, has so complete- eyes over it, we see another proof of an-
ly tickled the old fellow's fancy, that tiquity, in his observing, with a kind
we have it in page 29 again. "Now of superstitious awe, that Shakespeare
tell me, Mrs Goddard-Now tell me, and Cervantes died on the same day,
Miss Price-Now tell me, dear Har- as if that were any thing to the
pura
riet Smith-Now tell me, dear, dear pose. Age certainly weakens the mind
Mrs Elton,” &c. This is a mere defect in a great degree. And page 18 con-
of memory. He forgot that he had victs him of not knowing any thing
ever used the phraseology before, and about the great poets of the day, for
the chime was still singing in his ears. he accuses the Lake poets, and par-
But he is not to be pardoned, how- ticularly Southey; at whom, indeed,
ever, for making such a public use of he raves throughout, with a most amu-
people's names. Poor Miss Price is so sing degree of decrepit fury-of never
much annoyed at being put down as a quoting Sir Walter Scott, which shews
reader of Don Juan, that she has writ- that the old gentleman has never read
ten us a long and rather ingenious let- --to give one instance out of many-
ter on the subject, in which she com- Roderick the Goth, in which beauti-
plains bitterly of this conduct, and ful poem Sir Walter's Vision is quoted
adds, that the other ladies are particu- with deserved applause. Where, how-
larly yexed on the occasion. Her let- ever, is the use of giving any more spe-
ter is rather too prosy for insertion; cimens of such ignorance ? -A few ob-
but we shall, perhaps in next number, servations concerning ourselves, and we
give Mrs Goddard's lament, beginning are done.
with,
He says, and truly enough, that our
worthy publisher, Mr Blackwood, re-
" Little I thought the wide world was to fused to pollute his shop
by the sale of
All through the means of you, Mr Jere. it would be rather strange, that he
the indecent poem, Don Juan. Indeed
my;
Never a woman, I'm sure, was more bo-
should vend what its publisher, Mur-
ther'd, sir,
ray, was ashamed to acknowledge as
Than your humble servant, I, Mrs God. emanating from his house. We see no
dard, sir,” &c.
reason why Albemarle-street in Lon-
don, should boast a purer current of
We can, however, comfort the poor feeling than the street of Princes in
lady, who, it would be superfluous to Edinburgh. But as there is, in almost
say, is a poetess out of Ireland, by as- all human actions a mixture of motives,
suring her, that so far from the wide we may as well tell all the truth at
world hearing of the transaction, it is once, as it will be the best way for Mr
only known to about seventeen indivi- Blackwood himself, who has been hor-
duals.
ribly laughed at by some of our witty
hear o' me,


426
Letter to Lord Byron.
[July,
friends, for squeamishness. He is much from our pen, except a few verses, call-
troubled of late with the gout, (for ed Don Juan Unread, which were writ-
the man is growing enormous rich up- ten by Doctor Scott of Glasgow ;) and
on this Magazine) and was under a we assure you, my public, that it was
most agonizing paroxysm in his ancle after discussing three bottles of as good
when Don Juan was sent to him from claret, as ever left the banks of the
London. The pain was so violent, that Garonne. Besides, it was on a Thurs-
he imagined his final dissolution was day evening, so that it could not be
approaching ; and, like Mr Cayenne in said that we were hot from Kirk ;
the Annals of the Parish, thinking it nor, indeed, do we at all frequent the
the duty of every loyal man in these churches of the Scottish establishment.
times to die in a Christian like fashion, This proves how erroneous this old
he became as devout as possible. In gentleman's information has been ; but
this frame of mind, many things struck we rely, for all that, on this very pas-
him in quite a new point of view, and sage, to prove that his mental faculty
he could not help feeling some scruples is not quite gone. His being able to
of conscience for having published perceive that Don Juan is decidedly
the Salt-Foot Controversy, the poem inferior to us, and his knowing that
of Fleurs, and such like unpardonable publication in our pages is immortali-
books. Under these circumstances, ty, is proof enough in his favour,-
and desirous of making some atone- though perhaps it may be said that
ment, he determined not to sell the they are truths too obvious to escape
Don. It was, we think, a commend- the meanest capacity. It is evident,
able feeling, though we fear that, however, that he knows nothing of our
when the twinge abated, he had some mode of conducting the Magazine, or
thoughts of putting the book on his he could not have imagined for a mo-
counter. He resisted it, however, - ment that we would admit such a work
and this is the plain statement of the as Don Juau into our columns, parti-
case. How Jerry got a hold of it, we cularly when we are in the daily ha-
cannot even guess. With respect to us, bit of refusing much superior produce
he is under a mistake, as we shall ex- tions. In fact, every thing must be
plain.
first-rate for us. of our castigation
“ Had Lord Byron, sent Don Juan, of Don Juan, we are proud, and laugh
with five hundred thousand million times at the vapourings of Lord Byron, who
more of the devil about him than he really says he will answer us. If he do, we
has exhibited, to that illustrious character shall annihilate him in the twinkling
Christopher North, Esq. with a request to
of a bed-post.
have the Don inserted in his Magazine,
lives there that being with wit enough to
So much for this pamphlet, on which
keep him from putrifying, who doubts the
we should not have dilated, were it not
great Kit would have smiled a sweet for the supper depending on it. We
smile, and desired the right honourable think we have proved, that though this
guest to ascend into the most honourable pamphlet is the stupid production of a
place of his upper chamber of immortality ? crazy old woman; yet that it is more
This is clear enough ; and then came the intelligible, and not altogether so asi-
redoubted Magazine itself. A set of too nine as Chrestomathia, which was all
rigid moralists meet in a tavern, and after we betted. Our friend, we know, will
being gently refreshed with tobacco smoke succumb to our opinion ; and then we
and whisky punch, they cry out— Well, anticipate a most glorious evening: -
then, so be it; have at Don Juan. Upon What a repast we shall make of it:
a table all round in a current of religious What a deep dip into the claret!
feeling, and by men hot from Kirk, and
What—but no more,
breathing nothing but piety, furious para-
graph after furious paragraph is written Visions of Oman, crowd not on my soul !
against a book nearly as clever as if they
had written it themselves."
With this comfortable hope, we bid
Now we are hardly too rigid moral- adieu, with the best feelings, to Mr
ists, though we did revolt at Don Juan. Bentham ; but we shall remember the
And Mr Bentham must be ignorant of fright he threw us into, and shall ne-
our manner of living, if he thinks that ver again be guilty of the folly of bete
we ever sit down to review any work ting on him. This time, we are quit
we care about, over whisky punch. We for the fear; but who knows whether
have an accurate recollection of writing we ever should have the same luck
those very articles; (all of them coming again?


128
(July,
The Lothian Ball, or the Widow's Cow.
6.
True, genuine, innate courage is not this;
Not animal ferocity which dares
Do aight commanded, proper or amiss ;
The man who thus achieves in common, shares
Boldness that makes the vilest reptiles hiss,
The fierceness of the cannibal who spares
Nor age, nor sex-It is a tiger's roar,
In battle terrible-but 'tis no more.
7.
The courage which is most to be commended,
Is that display'd by virtuous men alone;
By such men danger ne'er is apprehended;
They fear it not from a reforming stone
Thrown by a Radical—howe'er intended ;
By yeomen constables 'twould be unknown;
And in a duel, or in warlike field,
The virtuous man 'gainst danger has a shield.
8.
Yet even this is not the courage wanted
In owning what is quizzical or sly,
We must assume a face and mien undaunted;
And, when in turn we find some piercing eye
Regarding us, and wishing us supplanted,
We should at once send back its scrutiny.
Those only who can thus withstand a railing,
Should dare to touch upon a neighbour's failing.
9.
But, for my story, -While I thus am prosing,
I'm working you into an awkward trim,
As well as much good ink and paper losing,
Much more, you'll say, than to a foolish whim
Should be devoted; for I am supposing
Your visage has become most wondrous grim;
If not, you'll think this opening bodes some fun,
And will, in that case, say,–Well done! well done!
10.
“ Pale death,”-So Horace wrote in times of old,
“ Relentless seeks the cottage of the poor,
“And, with a knock as insolently bold,
Approaches to the royal palace door.”
But this equality wont always hold;
Because its consequences are felt more
When death gives some poor cottager a twitch,
Than when death seeks the mansions of the rich.
11.
Had death, for instance, sought, on this occasion,
The well-fed herd of Thrillingham's good lord,
'Twould not have caused such direful perturbation,
Nor would such lamentations have been pour'd;
Nor would there have been such sad consternation,
Nor would the loss have been so much deplored,
As when grim death, from whom there is none free,
Attack'd the cow of poor old Dame Magee.


430
(July,
The Lothian Ball, or the Widow's Cow.
18.
I've said she was a widow-that's a reason,
If any should be wish'd, why she preferr'd
Her cow to sympathy, which friends did please on
This sad event to yield; for, 'tis averr':
That widows always know the way to season
This life with comforts, and have seldom err'd
In settling which of two things is the best ;
As widows--but we'll let such questions rest.
19.
Besides, the widow had been long attach'd
Unto this very cow-It was a calf
When first she had it; and she then had watch'd
Its youthful frolics—Often would she laugh
To mark it, when its crib had been unlatch'd,
Burst scampering forth as swiftly as the chaff
From Andrew Mickle's famous thrashing mill:
You once liked similes- I do so still.
20.
Attachments such as this may be despised
By those brought up in fashion's heartless school;
For fashion hath strange practices devised,
And sanctions them by many a stranger rule ;
And those so rear'd may doubtless be surprised
To find it possible there lives a fool
So great, that he can have a partiality
For cows, or calves, or any one reality.
21.
One good attending fashion is, it knows
Just whom and whatsoever thing it pleases,
And though it may perhaps some pleasures lose,
It has its off-sets-Nothing ever teazes
Fashion's true votaries; and even those,
Who are but half-enroll’d, obtain'd releases
From being influenced by such silly notions
As warmth of feeling, or youth's soft emotions.
22.
For my part, I've no terrors in confessing
I am of the old school-When I was young
(No doubt, for this I'll get a precious dressing
From some enchanting modern-fashion'd tongue,
But yet that's not a reason for suppressing
My honest sentiment) it would have wrung
Tears from mine eyes, and still it grieves my heart
To see how fashion can men's minds pervert.
23.
And, having been thus rear’d, I often feel
A something of surprise, if not disgust,
When to a beauteous cheek I make appeal,
And find, instead of heart, mere fashion's crust;
Then do I turn in sorrow,
on my heel,
And sigh to think that mankind are but dust,
Their faces but a shining piece of clay,
With hearts as callous as their smiles are gay.
2


1821.].
+31
The Lothian Ball, or the Widow's Cow.
24.
Such worthies may esteem it singularity;
And some may, sub silentio, deem it wrong;
And some may think it springs from my vulgarity;
And some may censure me in language strong;
While others, seeing that it is a rarity,
And different from the ordinary song,
May, though they do not mean to be uncivil,
As a quietus, wish me at the devil.
25.
So let them! but their wishes can't destroy
The feelings of attachment which connect
My heart with early scenes of grief or joy ;
The devotee of the most phrenzied sect
Will find success his keenest pursuits cloy, .
Ere I grow tired of trifles which reflect
My days of boyhood—These retain a power
O'er all that passes in the present hour.
26.
Oh, Lothian ! notwithstanding I have wept
To see the changes which have taken place
Since first I knew thee; though thou now art stripp'd
Of many charms which lent thee then a grace
Above all other lands; though time hath swept
Thy fairest hopes, and left so slight a trace
Of early joys, that those which now we find
But make us feel how few remain behind !
27.
Though such thy state, oh, Lothian! yet to me
Thou art more dear than all the world beside!
Where'er my steps may wander, still with thee
My warmest, best affections will abide;
And whether, in this life, my lot shall be
To meet with sorrows, or in peace to glide,
Still! still, dear Lothian ! wheresoe'er I roam,
My heart will turn to those I leave at home.
28.
But I resume my tale :- Where'er 'twas known
The widow had this woeful loss sustain'd,
A shade of kind solicitude was thrown
O’er every brow—There scarcely one remain'd
Unmoved by the sad story:-1, alone,
My calm, dispassionate, self-command retain'd,-
While tears coursed fast the cheek of Mrs White,
And Jessie Bloom was seen in mournful plight !
29.
I pray thee, Christopher, stare not at this,—.
I say the beauteous Mrs White shed tears
When this was told her !-Oh! methinks, to kiss
That trembling tear away, and soothe her fears,
For the poor widow, would have yielded bliss
Above all rapture !-For there's nought endears.
A face so much, as when a witching eye
Is thus bedimm'd with tears of sympathy.
VOL. IX.
3 HI


432
July,
The Lothian Ball, or the Widow's Cow.
30.
I do not say I saw the lady weep,
Or that I heard the smiling Jessie sigh";
It was not possible to get a peep,
(And yet I sometimes am a little sly,)
At every face, when the affliction deep
Was first made known.-And, though I ne'er could spy,
That care had left on either's brow a cloud,
I cannot doubt what others have avow'd.
31.
Such, then, the wonderful extent of grief
Diffused through Lothian, for the Widow's woes;
But Time, whose soothing hand can bring relief
For ev'ry ill that round poor mortals flows,
Had scarcely ta’en one step, when, oh! how brief
Their sway ! two fleeting days beheld the close
Of Lothian's lamentations, and again
Had mirth and thoughtlessness resumed their reign.
32.
But, there was one in Lothian, in whose heart
Compassion never hath been waked in vain.-
And when he heard that Death had burld his dart
At the poor Widow's Cow, he felt the pain
Her loss would cause the widow.-To impart
Relief was then his wish; and how, again,
To get another cow, of the same kind,
Became the object that engross'd his mind.
33.
There's surely nothing in this world engages
Th' attention of mankind so much as money :
To rail at it, fills up the time of sages;
To keep it, that of misers; and the funny,
In spending it, find that its power assuages
A host of life's vexations.
---Tis a honey
More potent far than any Balm of Gilead,
Or cordial made since Homer wrote his Iliad.
34.
This generous friend, then, knowing well the power
Of money, was determined to administer
Some to the widow.-But, as sugar's sour
In shape of physic given, he thought, should any stir
Be made about it, that her brow would lower,
And render her as cross, as though some sinister
Intention were afloat:-So now, to hide
His purpose, and yet do her good, he tried.
35.
I am not bound minutely to relate,
Ev'ry particular about this Ball;
And, therefore, 'tis enough for me to state,
That this same worthy friend resolved to call
Together a few friends, and then debate
(Men well agreed need scarce debate at all,)
With them the most befitting, when and how,
For raising cash enough to buy a cow.


434
[July,
The Lothian Ball, or the Widow's Cow.
42.
This was the whole affair-and was so plain,
That any evening would have been becoming
For such a worthy purpose ;—but, again,
The matter was discuss'd- and then a humming,
And next a silence ensued-then a train
Of ifs and questions-next there was a thrumming
Of fingers on chair-backs and then a glance
That 'twould not be amiss to have a dance,
43.
This open'd a new field; and it was hinted,
That dancing would suit better than a walk;
And soon 'twas found the mover that way squinted.
Then for the day--a very little talk
Determined Saturday and when so printed,
All would be settled ; nothing that could baulk
Their expectations of a happy party
Appear'd in view, and all were now most hearty.
44.
But when the tickets reach'd
young
Mr Tait,
And he perceived that Saturday was fix’d,
His consternation was extremely great;
And some small spice of discontent was mix'd
With his surprise, that it should be his fate
To be concern'd; so that day, or the next,
He, very properly, a message sent
To the prime mover, with this sentiment.
45.
The message reach'd the mover on his way,
One Sunday morning, to the parish church;
And 'tis not going too far, when I say,
The thought of being thus left in the lurch,
Produced a something, quite as grave as gay,
Upon his noble brow,-a little starch
Was also in his manner very visible,
Which would, in other men, have made me risible.
46.
Why, what in others would have been absurd,
Did not appear so when display'd by him,
Can never be made known. If others heard
My reasons, many eyes, which now are dim,
Would then distinctly see; and ev'ry word
Which now I write, and every little whim
Which may hereafter be in Lothian shown,
Would as the scribbling of my muse be known.
47.
I, therefore, nean no farther now to tell,
Than that the message to the mover came,
When within hearing of the parish bell ;
And such its influence, that he scarce could frame
An answer, which he thought was suited well
To shew his feelings, without casting blame,
And this he did not mean, on Mr Tait;
He only grieved the message came so late !


1821.]
435
The Lothian Ball, or the Widow's Cow.
48.
It was a pity, so the mover said,
Cold water in this way the scheme to throw on;
But truly, it ne'er came into his head,
That it could tend to any harm-and so on;
He thought it was not likely he would lead
His friends to sinning. But the ball must go on !
When he was young his ploys had ne'er miscarried,
And this one shouldn't—though he now was married !
49.
You'll think, no doubt, that such a conversation
Was not much suited to produce devotion;
And so thought I; but, in this pious nation,
The worthies seem to have a different notion.
The Sabbath here's a day of recreation,
And it would cause a horrible commotion,
If either you or I should dare to say,
Such subjects more became another day.
50.
About the dance then all were gay as crickets ;
But, in a little time, a pause ensued,
And, while thus passing through one of the thickets,
Which any one may find in Thrilling wood,
A lady's voice said, “ Have you got the tickets?”
I heard not the reply, but understood
The worthy mover had ta'en proper care
Of all the business that fell to his share.
51.
I cannot tell what others may have thought,
When thus the gentle lady made her speech ;
They have more prudence, and I also ought
To suffer past experience now to teach
My muse some wisdom; for she oft hath brought
My heart and judgment within censure's reach.
Yet, knowing this, and though I'm not too godly,
I can't help saying that it sounded oddly.
52.
And odd it surely was; but much I fear
You'll think it something worse than odd, if I
Continue thus to claim the public ear,
To trifles such as Lothian charity:
But such, oh Christopher ! both far and near
Thy influence, that whate'er we chance to spy,
Within thy pages is consider'd good,
And presently becomes the public food.
53.
So, lest we by our good things cause satiety,
We'll pause a moment, and if you think' fit,
We'll, ere next month, by way of a variety,
Endeavour to prepare another hit
At Lothian manners ;-for you know, propriety
In writing nonsense, as in spouting wit,
Consists not so much in avoiding levity,
As in that greatest of perfections—brevity.
END OF THE FIRST EPISTLE.


436
[July,
Stanzas on the Death of Napoleon Buonaparte.
STANZAB,
On the Death of Napoleon Buonaparte.
The knell hath toll’d, and the mighty hath gone
To the dust, like a thing forsaken ;
No more shall the dread Napoleon
At the summons of Fame awaken!
Thou did'st not die on the tented plain,
With thy martial legions round thee;
But a captive, girt with the gnawing chain,
In which the nations bound thee!
Thou did'st not fade, like a lightning flash,
When thunder-clouds bend lowly;
Thou did'st not sink, like a torrent's dash;
But silently pined, and slowly.
A hundred battles were fought and won ;-
Tens of thousands fell beside thee;
And thine eagle soar'd, with its eyes to the sun,
As if all but success was denied thee.
Thy name did sound a watch-word of fear,-
A spell, like the earthquake and thunder ;
The nations did crouch, as thy banners drew near,
In the depth of amazement and wonder !
The sceptre fell from the regal hand;
And Liberty saw but one token
In Europe, the seat of her ancient command,
That her sway was resistless, though broken !
'Twas in Britain the stedfast heart did remain,
Through the terrors and tempest of danger,
That the patriot glow'd, while he scoff’d at the chain,
That was forged for his neck by the stranger.
'Twas to Britain the iron-bound captive gazed,
When Thraldom's low dungeon he enter'd;
'Twas in Britain the bulwark of Freedom was raised,
And the hopes of the earth were centred.
For the Swede, all unnerved, did succumb from fight,
The Italian lay down by his fountain,
The bright star of Prussia was clouded by night,
The Switzer had fled to the mountain:
The Austrian struggled, yet bow'd to the yoke,
And Muscovy trembled before thee;
Till Frost, like a giant, the talisman broke,
And withering ruin came o'er thee!
Still the warrior's power was but subdued
For a season-more strength to gather ;
Then forth to burst, like a torrent renew'd,
To spread like flame o'er the heather.
And all was vain,-had not Wellington coine,
His charger to thine opposing ;
When Waterloo echoed the trump and drum,
And thy hosts with his were closing.


1921.]
Stangas on the Death of Napoleon Buonaparte.
437
Then did the star of thy victories set,
And Night's black cloud came o'er thee,
And thy fate, all boastful and bright as yet,
To a human level bore thee.
Shame to the bard who would raise his voice,
One hostile feeling to cherish;
Shame to the Briton that dare rejoice,
When the fallen and mighty perish.
For thou did'st rise 'mid summer's skies,
Like an eagle all sunward soaring ;
And thou stood'st the shock, unmoved as the rock,
When Adversity's storm was roaring.
THE VISION BY MOON-LIGHT.
It was a calm serene evening. I and extract light from darkness, after
had marked from my window the glo- having groped my way through the
rious descent of the summer sun, be- mazes of his pathless labyrinth to no
hind the lofty mountains of Fife and purpose, I laid him again on his dusty
Stirlingshire ; and observed the glow- shelf, that the spiders might be no
ing tints of crimson and purple which longer withheld from re-commencing
he had infused into the long vista of their operations, and weaving a fresh
hovering clouds, gradually evanishing plexus between him and the super-
and dying away, leaving the mass of incumbent board. 1 then laid my
a pure unilluminated white. The hand on Albertus Magnus, “ de vir-
whole expanse of the Frith of Forth tutibus herbarum, lapidum, et anima-
lay stretched out before me in sunless lium quorundam libellus. Item de
majesty, silent and waveless, as if the mirabilibus Mundi, ac de quibusdam
rebellious spirit of the waters had effectibus causatis a quibusdam anima-
yielded themselves to the dominion of libus.” From the misty metaphysical
the genial season. An almost imper- atmosphere of the High Dutch shoe-
ceptible breath of land-wind, at inter- maker, I found myself at once trans-
vals, moved the massy foliage of the ported into the regions of scholastic
garden trees that clustered around, and pedantry, superstition, and credulity.
beneath me; from the topmost branch I was taught the indisputable truth,
of one of which the blackbird poured that the stone Asmodus brought to its
out to the still eve, her clear and me possessor the power of overcoming
lancholy, and melodious anthem. wild beasts, interpreting dreams, and
A long summer day had passed over prophesying, that it neutralizes poi-
me, and yet my morning slippers were sons, and teaches us the solution of all
still on my feet. Such is the life of a riddles, even though propounded by
book-worm. I had dosed hours away the Sphinx himself. That the Cryso-
over the pages of Coleridge's cloudy lite stuck into one ear drives out fool-
and incomprehensible friend, Jacobus ishness through the other, allowing
Behmen, seu Teutonicus Philosophus; wisdom to take up its lodgings in the
and could with difficulty catch now empty tenement of the brain. That a
and then a glimpse of meaning in the cord made of the dried hairs of a dead
“ Signatura Rerum, or the signature ass, rubbed over with the marrow
of all things, shewing the sign and taken from the right shoulder blade of
signification of the several forms and the same, and placed above the thresh-
shapes in the creation, and what the hold, will make those that enter ap-
beginning, ruin, and cure, of every pear to have three heads. And that
thing is; it proceeds out of eternity the only cure for drunkenness is, to
into time, and again out of time into throw a parcel of small serpents into a
eternity, and comprizeth all mysteries," vessel of wine, letting them die there,
&c. &c. At length, finding that I and make the person to be cured drink
could not overcome impossibilities, thereof: if he takes a good draught,


438
The Vision by Moon-light.
(July,
we are assured that he will loath wine thence deriving the thread of fate
for a year at least, and most probably which is to await the march of kenman
for the remainder of his days. life. I thought of these, and of in-
I next laid my hand on Cardanus, numerable other subjects, all equally
when, as I was reaching him from his pregnant with mystery and disappoint-
place, I received a summons to tea, ment, all equally indicative of the as-
and notwithstanding my incurable pirations and energies of the human
thirst for reading, I must own without mind, and of their misdirection and
any grievous symptom of displeasure, futility.
I tacitly laid him up again to enjoy I had sat dreaming with my eyes
his slumber, pregnant with uncom- open for a considerable time; how
municated mysteries. When I re- long I know not ;-and it is of little
turned to my apartment, I found that consequence; but I now perceive that
my appetite for study had evaporated, The moon-light stealing o'er the scene,
and that I had quite enough of indi- Had blended with the tints of eve;
gestible matter on my stomach to suf-
fice me for one day. The vesper chime The song of the blackbird had ceased;
was ringing ; the long lines of crimson an azure shade hung over the bosom
light broke in through the western of the sea, and over the sides of the
window; and stretched at “ listless amphitheatre of hills, though their
length" upon the sopha, I gazed out summits seen in the clear mirror of
at the purpling and serene beauties of the northern sky were distinctly visi-
nature ; and could not help drawing ble in the dark outline. I hastily
an invidious comparison between the started up, threw off my slippers,
ever-varying, erring, cloudy, perplex- yawned heartily, and prepared myself
ed, and vague speculations of human for a solitary moon-light saunter.
intellect, and the simple, sublime, and Slapping the door behind me, I
unchanging beauty of the external strayed on for a quarter of a mile, till
world. I thought of the philosophy I gained the margin of the river, and
of the ancients, and of the deep intri- the long avenue of oak, elm, and beech
cacies of thought and language, which trees, that shaded the pathway. There
the wise of old expended in their en was a delicious coolness in the air, and
deavours after the solution of mys- an unclouded glory in the blue sky,
teries, which remain yet wholly un save a few fleecy specks, above which
intelligible. I thought on the max- the moon shewed her silver majesty;
ims which had been laid down and and not a sound was to be heard save
acted upon in far distant ages of the the river, that with a low, still mur-
world, with a divine magnanimity, mur, wandered glistening over its
and persevering steadiness; all of pebbly bed. I now stood motionless
which have been proved by celestial leaning on my cane, and gazed on the
revelation, to be erring and nugatory. tall green water-lillies with their bright
I thought of sages, who had worn out flowers, standing almost erect in the
a long life in self-denial and contem- juttings of the stream, where the sur-
plation, for the establishment of their face was calm and unruffled ;-on the
doctrines and dogmas; and of those willow boughs that leant over the tide
who suffered banishment and death in and made a break in the running wa-
their promulgation. I thought of the ter, with their long hoary, pointed
Magi and the soothsayers, wildly clad leaves ;-on the soft natural Howers,
in their flowing mantles, with their the daisy and the dandelion, and the
pointed caps, and white rods of divin- harebell, that grew in countless pro-
ation. of the Alchemists in their fusion around, and shot up their va-
subterraneous laboratories, surround- riegated heads beneath the dark and
ed with mummies, and monsters, and broad-leaved mallow. Now turning,
dried serpents, with meteoric stones, I cast my eye over the verdant lawn,
and metallic ores, and alembics, re- bounded by its young plantation of
torts, and crucibles, diving into the firs, that raised their dark spiral tops
arcana of nature in search of some airy on high ; and against the relief of the
phantasy, the philosopher's stone, or heavens, appeared like a countless
the transmutation of metals. Of the multitude of spears : here the syca.
astrologers watching from the balcony more spread a broader bough, and
the aspects of the heavenly bodies, and threw a deeper shade ; there the deli-
5


1821. )
The Vision by Moon-light.
439
cate birch-tree scattered its depending sky; I gazed on it as on " & beauty
tendrils, and round the stems of the and a mystery,” careering the pathless
huge oaks in the centre of the park, depth of heaven, and making earth a
the cattle were reclining; and the scene worthy the abode of celestial in-
gentle footfall of the steed was at in- habitants.
tervals heard as he tardily moved about, Well might I say as Thomson does
not yet satisfied with his evening re- of the region in which he has placed
past.
his Castle of Indolence,
I moved on till I arrived at an an-
tique wooden seat in the shelter of a
“A pleasant land of drowsyhead it was ;”
wide-spread hawthorn bush, destined for I had not remained gazing and
for the refreshment of the traveller. I musing above half an hour, mid the
threw myself upon it and gazed around sounds and the sights which
me; all was still, and almost unearth-
“ yblent inclined all to sleep,"
ly beautiful. My mind was raised to
a state of excitement little short of when the poppies of Morpheus began
poetic inspiration. I heard the bay of to nod over my forehead, and those
the watch-dog from the distant farms; visions haunted my brain, which pass,
and save the murmur of the stream,
at eventide, before the half shut eye !"
and the casual rustle of the leaf, all
was in a state as of a deep sleep; all Now I thought myself in Fairyland,
was quiet as an enchanted fairy region. and beheld the gambols of the tiny
The moon was now far up in the wide elves,
which the belated peasant sees,
Or dreams he sees, while overhead the moon
Sits arbitress, and nearer to the earth
Wheels her pale course; they on their mirth and dance
Intent, with jocund music charm his ear,
At once with joy and fear his heart rebounds.
Now, I imagined myself in an uninhabited world, where life was a thing of
the past, and where inanimate beauty alone presides. Now I thought myself
on a desolate rock of the ocean, gazing upon the silver planet, and wondering
if the friends of early years might not now be likewise fixing their eyes on its
beauty. At length, overcome with reclining, musing, imagining, feign-
ing, dreaming; with the softness of the air, and the magic of the moon-shine,
I fell into a deep sleep, and had the following fantastic dream.
Methought a person wrapt in a long mantle stood before me; and, pointing
with his finger to the wide waste around, exclaimed in a wild impussioned
tone,
« How beautiful is night!
A dewy freshness fills the silent air,
No mist obscures, no little cloud
Breaks the whole serene of heaven:
In full orb'd glory the majestic moon
Rolls through the dark blue depths.
Beneath her steady ray
The desart circle spreads,
Like the round ocean, girdled with the sky,
How beautiful is night!
Who at this untimely hour
Wanders o'er the desart sands?
No station is in view,
No palm-grove islanded amid the waste."
I looked at him, wondering; and lo! the scene was changed; for I beheld
the long level plain almost destitute of shrubs, and circled round by the cloud-
less twilight sky. Not far distant a tent appeared ; and while my attention
was fixed on it, through the opening of the door-curtain I could distinctly
perceive some moving figures; and while I attentively perused them, the pera
son beside me again broke forth.
Vol. IX.
3 1


1821.]
The Vision by Moon-light.
1
“ The moon is bright, the sea is calm,
The little boat rides rapidly
Across the ocean waves;
The line of moon-light on the deep
Still follows as we voyage on ;
The winds are motionless ;
The gentle waters gently part
În murmurs round the prow.
I look above, I look around,
The boundless heaven, the boundless sea,
The crescent moon, the little boat,
Nought else above, below.”
He then resumed his seat, and resting his brow upon his outspread fingers,
we sailed on in silence. But now a wonder struck me; the little boat which,
as if by instinct or hidden impulse, had traversed the deep, "without an oar,
without a sail,” had expanded into a large vessel ; and when the person by my
side lifted up his head, I observed a complete metamorphosis, his countenance,
his voice, and his dress being wholly changed. He did not appear to observe
me; and leaning his back against the railing of the quarter-deck, he pensive-
ly sung:
“ Sweet Moon ! if like Crotona's sage,
By any spell my hand could dare
To make thy disk its ample page,
And write my thoughts, my wishes there ;
How many a friend, whose careless eye
Now wanders o'er that starry sky,
Should smile upon thy orb to meet
The recollection, kind and sweet,
The reveries of fond regret,
The promise never to forget,
And all my heart and soul would send
To many a dear-loved distant friend.
Even now delusive hope will steal
Amid the dark regrets I feel,
Soothing as yonder placid beam
Pursues the murmurers of the deep,
And lights them with consoling, gleam,
And smiles them into tranquil sleep!
Oh! such a blessed night as this;
I often think if friends were near,
How we should feel, and gaze with bliss
Upon the moon-bright scenery here !
The sea is like a silvery lake,
And o'er its calm the vessel glides
Gently, as if it fear'd to wake
The slumber of the silent tides !
The only envious cloud that lowers,
Hath hung its shade on Pico's height,
Where dimly, ʼmid the dusk, he towers,
And scowling at this heaven of light,
Exults to see the infant storm
Cling darkly round his giant form!"
He then looked me in the face, politely bowed, and stepped down to the
captain's cabin to have a rubber at whist. Another person of tall stature, and
younger in years, who had been at the poop of the vessel looking into the wa-
ter, as I thought, stood upright; and pointing to the full-orbed regent of the
night, passionately said,
" I lift my eyes upon the radiant Moon
That long unnoticed o'er my head has held
Her solitary walk, and as her light


1821.]
The Vision by Moon-light.
443
ferent from that which had so sweetly spoken. “Have not I sung his mar-
vellous voyage? Here is part of the song :-
The sun's rim dips, the stars rush out,
At one stride comes the dark;
With far-beard whisper, o'er the sea
Off shot the spectre bark.
We listen'd, and look'd sideways up;
Fear at my heart, as at a cup,
My life-blood seem'd to sip!
The stars were dim, and thick the night;
The steersman's face by his lamp gleam'd white;
From the sails the dews did drip;
Till clombe above the eastern bar,
The horned moon, with one bright star
Within the nether tip."
There was a strange wildness, mingled with a poetical fervour, in his lan-
guage, which made me involuntarily start from him. “O do not discomfort
yourself,” observed he; "we shall soon be at home again; for behold, yon-
der is the kirk, and the ancient village, and the harbour, and all the well-
known objects which we have often dreamed about during our adventurous
and awful voyage, and which we dreaded never more to feast our eyes upon.
But our infatuation has been cured,
And sadder men, and wiser men,
We'll rise to-morrow morn."
In an instant, methought we were landed in a beautiful wooded region, in-
terspersed with mountains, rivers, and lakes; and, with a stranger of a sublime,
contemplative appearance, 1 sauntered leisurely up to the top of a green emi-
nence. “ Who would imagine," he observed, “ that in this beautiful and see
rene night, the voice
Of battle, and the breath
Of stormy war, and violent death,
should haunt and hang over this seeming peaceful region? But true it is, that
From cloudless ether looking down,
The moon, this tranquil evening, sees
A camp, and a beleaguer'd town,
And castle like a stately crown,
On the steep rocks of winding Tees;
And, southward far, with moors between,
Hill-tops, and floods, and forests green.
The bright moon sees that valley small,
Where Řylstone's old sequcster'd hall
A venerable image yields
Of quiet to the neighbouring fields ;
While, from one pillar'd chimney breathes
The silver smoke, and mounts in wreaths.
The courts are hush'd; for timely sleep
The greyhounds to their kennel crcer ;
The peacock in the broad ash tree
Aloft is roosted for the night,
He who in proud prosperity,
Of colours manifold and bright,
Walk'd round, affronting the day light.
And higher still, above the bower
Where he is perch’d, from yon lone tower,
The hall-clock, in the clear moonshine,
With glittering finger points at ninc.


The Vision by Moon-light.
(July,
Ah! who could think that sadness here
Had any sway? or pain, or fear?
A soft and lulling sound is heard
Of streams, inaudible by day;
The garden pool's dark surface stirr'a
By the night insects in their play,
Breaks into dimples small and bright;
A thousand, thousand, rings of light,
That shape themselves, and disappear
Almost as soon as seen.”-
“ Bless me!" exclaimed a young man of a noble aspect, that stepped from
behind us; " that is much finer than I could possibly have conceived your
milk-and-water genius capable of producing. I am ashamed of having said
some contemptuous things of you, to whom I am under more actual obligation
than to any other person alive. The beautiful description you have just given
us, vividly recals to my mind the recollection of an evening, which still holds
its place in my mind as the bridal of the earth and sky, and which I have
endeavoured to give to the world in the lines which I now recite to you. I was
at that time romantically wandering through foreign climes ; it was during the
days of my ardent passions and youthful fervour; and, as I gazed on the dis-
tant towers of Corinth, I could not help feeling a yearning after the magnifi-
cence that had passed away, and perished from the earth, and yet which was
sacred to mankind in general, by inany holy, and to me, by many classical re-
collections.
'Tis midnight:-on the mountains brown
The cold round moon shines deeply down;
Blue roll the waters; blue the sky
Spreads like an ocean hung on high,
Bespangled with those isles of light,
So wildly, spiritually bright.
Who ever gazed upon them shining,
And turn'd to earth without repining,
Nor wish'd for wings to flee away,
And mix with the eternal ray?
The waves on either side lay there,
Calm, clear, and azure as the air;
And scarce their foam the pebbles shook,
But murmur'd meekly as the brook.
The winds were pillow'd on the waves ;
The banners droop'd along their staves;
And, as they fell, around them furling,
Above them shone the crescent curling;
And that silence was unbroke,
Save where the watch his signal spoke;
Save where the stecd neigh'd oft and shrill,
And echo answer'd from the hill.
And the wide hum of that wild host
Rustled like leaves from coast to coast,
As rose the Muezzin's voice in air,
In midnight call to wonted prayer;
It rose, that chaunted mournful strain,
Like some lone spirit's o'er the plain:
'Twas musical, but sally sweet,
Such as when winds and harp-strings meet,
And take a long unmeasured tone,
To mortal minstrelsy unknown.
It seem’d, to those within the wall,
A cry prophetic of their fall:
It struck cven the besieger's ear
With something ominous and drcar,


1821.]
The Vision by Moon-light.
415
An undefined and sudden thrill,
Which makes the heart a moment still,
Then beat with quicker pulse, ashamed
Of that strange sense its silence framed;
Such as a sudden passing bell
Wakes, though but for a stranger's knell.
You have had enough of it, I presume. I see by your looks that you are
both tired of me. My hours of inspiration are the only tolerable ones I pass
on earth. Popularity is an idle breath. Disappointment and pain accompany
me, whatever I do, and wherever I go; then
Farewell, a word that hath been, and must be !
The gales of foreign seas shall expand my sails, and the soil of distant climes
shall bear my footsteps. I shall wander amid the ruins of ancient magnificence,
and indulge my heart in melancholy musings ! Pooh! do you think me such a
spoonie? How do you like this, pray? and especially you, Seignor Grave
face?
Oh, Mirth and Innocence! Oh, Milk and Water !
Ye happy mixtures of inore happy days!
In these sad centuries of sin and slaughter,
'Abominable man no more allays
His thirst for such pure beverage. No matter;
I love you both, and both shall have my praise.
Oh, for old Saturn's reign of sugar-candy!
Meantime, I drink to your return in brandy.”
Methought that the graver of my companions looked at the younger and
more volatile, with a sorrowful, but forgiving eye; as if he pitied, yet admi-
red; as if he saw it was in vain, yet wished to expostulate with him. I fore-
saw that some altercation would ensue; so I stepped forward, that I might
not be thought to overhear their altercation.
There was a fine clump of oak trees before me; so I endeavoured to get to
the other side of them. I had just turned down the little avenue which they
formed, when I was accosted by a most melodious voice. “Is not that a most
beautiful landscape beneath our eyes ?" it said ; a moon-light reflection of
paradise !" I turned to the speaker, and expressed my agreement with him in
his remarks. “Yet it is the scene of a melancholy tale," he continued ; “and
yon distant rock, which commands a view of the sea, is the nocturnal haunt of
a poor maniac; yes,
Hark! the wild maniac sings, to chide the gale:
That wafts so slow her lover's distant sail ;
She, sad spectatress, on the wintry shore
Watch'd the rude surge his shroudless corse that bore;
Knew the pale form, and, shrieking in amaze,
Clasp'd her cold hands, and fix'd her maddening gaze.
Poor widow'd wretch ! 'twas then she wept in vain,
Till memory fled her agonizing brain;
But Mercy gave, to charm the sense of woe,
Ideal peace, that Truth could ne'er bestow;
Warm on her heart the joys of Fancy beam,
And aimless Hope delights her darkest dream.
Oft, when yon moon has climb'd the midnight sky,
And the lone sea-bird wakes its wildest cry,
Piled on the steep her blazing faggots burn,
To hail the bark that never can return;
And still she waits, but scarce forbears to weep.
Do you love a good song?” he abruptly ejaculated. “I have only a very few
of them, but they are select. Two or three good are worth a dozen of indif-
forent ones.


416
The Vision by Moon-light.
[July,
'Twas the hour when rites unholy
Calls each Paynim voice to prayer ;
And the star that faded slowly,
Left to dews the freshen'd air.
Day his sultry fires had wasted;
Calm and sweet the moon-light rose ;
Even a captive's spirit tasted
Half oblivion of his woes.
A lazy fit has seized me; I can't go on; but I will probably give you the
remainder afterwards, if you remind me. But if you wish to hear something
at present worth your while, step down to the river bank opposite yon Gothic
castle. A magician who wanders there will shew you the wonders of the
place." I obeyed his injunctions, and proceeding to the bank, I beheld a tall
figure in the attitude of listening; his shadow was dark on the ground; and
as I neared him, he held up his hand, as a signal of silence, at same time,
beckoning me to approach him. The scene was picturesque, wild, romantic
beyond description. The large tall trees threw around a black intensity of
shade, and the dark overhanging mountain banks obscured the bed of the ri.
ver, which rushed on with a deep, low, hollow sound. A wildness glanced in
the magician's eye, as we caught the first sounds of this unearthly dialogue.
RIVER SPIRIT.
Sleep'st thou, brother?
MOUNTAIN SPIRIT.
Brother, nay:-
On
my
hills the moon-beams play,
From Craikcross to Skelfield-pen,
By every rill in every glen,
Merry elves their morrice dancing,
To aërial minstrelsy;
Emerald rings on brown heath tracing,
Trip it deft and merrily;
Up, and mark their nimble feet!
Up, and list their music sweet !
RIVER SPIRIT.
Tears of an imprison'd maiden
Mix with my polluted stream;
Margaret of Branksome, sorrow-laden,
Mourns beneath the moon's pale beam.
Tell me, thou who view'st the stars,
When shall cease these feudal jars?
What shall be the maiden's fate?
Who shall be the maiden's mate?
MOUNTAIN SPIRIT.
Arthur's slow wain his course doth roll,
In utter darkness round the pole ;
The northern bear lowers black and grim;
Orion's studded belt is dim;
Twinkling faint, and distant far,
Shimmers through mist each planet star.
Ill may I read their high decree !
But no kind influence deign they shower
On Teviot's tide and Branksome's tower,
Till pride be quell’d, and love be free.
The sounds then suddenly ceased, and we stood together for some time,
breathlessly silent, in the pale moonlight; but nothing was to be heard but
the rush of the river. “We may now depart,” said the magician, “ for we
15


1921.)
The Vision by Moon-light.
1
shall hear no more. Is not this a beautiful night? it strongly reminds me of
that in which Thomas the Rhymer set out on his pilgrimage to Fairyland."
« The elfin harp his neck around,
In minstrel guise he hung;
And on the wind, in doleful sound,
Its dying accents rung.
Then forth he went, yet turn'd him oft
To view his ancient hall;
On the grey tower, in lustre soft,
The autumn moon-bearns fall,
And Leader's waves, like silver sheen,
Danced shimmering in the ray ;
In deepening mass, at distance seen,
Broad Soltra's mountains lay.”
Here the delightful verse was interrupted by a voice that shouted to my
conductor from a knoll not far distant. I observed a person rapidly approach
ing us.
" It is all to no purpose," he exclaimed, as soon as he got within distinct
hearing. “One might lie and wait there till doomsday, before any of the
green-coated people would favour one with a peep at their revels. I am certain it
was not always so, as many creditable old people of my acquaintance can attest.
But old things have passed away, and everything has become new. I would
not be surprised, if, in the course of another twenty years, the people were to
doubt of the existence of ghosts, witches, or even brownies, altogether. But
we must take things as they go. It is full time that we were all in bed, for
Bee
The bright morning star, day's harbinger,
Comes dancing from the east.
The watch-dog rests with folded eye
Beneath the portal's grey festoon ;
The wilder'd Ettrick wanders bye,
Loud murmuring to the careless moon.
The warder lists with hope and dread
Far distant shout of fray begun;
The cricket tunes his tiny reed,
And harps beside the embers dun.
Was that the blast of bugle, borne
Far on the night-wind, wavering shrill?
'Tis nothing but the shepherd's horn,
That keeps the watch on Cacra hill.
What means the warder's answering note ?
The moon is west, 'tis near the day ;
I thought I heard the warrior's shout,
'Tis time the abbot were away!
The bittern mounts the morning air,
And rings the sky with quavering croon;
The watch-dog sallies from his lair,
And bays the wind and setting moon.
'Tis not the breeze, nor bittern's wail,
Comes Tushilaw and all his men.'
He here broke short; we heard the secret expedition. But instead of Tu.
sound of innumerable tongues, the shilaw and all his men, what was my
low, the loud, the shrill, the hoarse, surprise to see a motley crowd turn the
the musical, the discordant, which I corner of a walk full in front. There
thought shewed a great want of genee was no possibility of retreat, so we
ralship in the border chief when on a were forced to abide the storm. Good
VOL. IX.
3 K


1821.]
The Embalmer. No. 1.
449
late all works of modern tongues at to be meddling with the kings and
once into ancient;-a dead language, emperors of Hebrew accentuation-
as my Lord Byron very properly re- with Zakeph-Katons, Telisha Gedolas,
marks, in his late gossiping pamphlet, Schalschelets, and other grim-titled
being the only immortal thing in this little flourishes. And if the thing were
world. By this means we should em- to be done at all, it should be done Ma-
balm our authors; and I intend to soretically; for í look on the Anti-Ma-
take upon me at once the office of sorites to be complete Whigs (i.e. very
EMBALMER GENERAL, in which ca- contemptible persons) in literature.
pacity I may perhaps appear at the With respect to Greek, it is a very fit
coronation, and offer the King a mum- language. We all remember Porson's
my case, as an appropriate homage fee. elegant translation of Three Children
The works of our poets-for our prose Sliding on the Ice; and I have read
writers I leave to Dr Bellendenus- two or three neat versions of Shake-
will, I trust, be preserved by my pre- speare, done by Cambridge men for the
parations, at least as effectually as bo- prize founded by him. God save the
dies are by the antiseptic drugs, or King, too, has been done for the Class-
gross unguents of Sir Everard Home, ical Journal passably; and Mr Cæcilius
or that most magnificent personage Metellus has given the commencement
William Thomas Brande, Esquire, Se- of John Gilpin so well, in the same pe-
cretary to the Royal Institution, and riodical, that I wish he would finish it;
chief concocter of that highly amusing after which, he might try his hand at
and agreeably authentic miscellany, the celebrated imitation of Cowper's
the Quarterly Journal of Science. philosophical poem, Lord Byron's Ma-
It may be said, that translations al- zeppa. I was inclined to follow these
ways fall far short of the original, and examples, but it most unluckily hap-
sacrifice numberless graces. Perhaps pened, that in the very first poem I
this is true of all other translators now took up, I had occasion to look for the
extant; but in my particular case, all precise signification of a word begin-
that I am afraid of is, that I may ning with omega, which I wanted to
beautify the original too much, and use; and not being quite satisfied with
that the charms of my style and com- Stephanus's interpretation, I am obli-
position may make the readers of my ged to wait until I see the opinion of
translations apt to value inferior pro- the new Thes. on the point, which will
ductions too highly, from the beauty delay my Greekish intentions, until
of the amber in which I shall enwrap somewhere in the year 1835. Latin,
them. For instance, I translated å then, being all that remained, I have
Song by Willison Glass the other day, commenced operations on agrand scale.
and I passed it on the Bailie, a man of Vincent Bourne, honest dear fellow,
letters you know, for Tibullus. How- has done a great deal already in that
ever, as in such cases the originals will way, but I shall soon surpass his la-
perish, the world will be the
better for bours.
having my versions in their place; I was dubious, too, with respect to
and a regard to the general interest of the metres, whether I should only use
mankind ought to pervade the breast those of ancient Rome, or conform my-
of every good and benevolent person. self to the modern versification. There
I had some doubt as to what lan- are great authorities on both sides. Dr
guage I should patronize. Hebrew is Aldrich translated
by far too crabbed to write, and is, be A soldier and a sailor,
side, lying under high professorial cen-
A tinker and a tailor, &c.
sure. I understand, indeed, that a
gentleman in Italy has translated the into Latin of similar structure with the
Satires of Horace successfully into English, and Dr Petre has done Chevy-
the language of Zion; and that it is Chace in the same way. Many infe-
capable of beautiful and harmonious rior names might be also adduced. The
melody, every body who has read the objection to it is, that Latin lines to
pathetic dirge, in your thirty-eighth English tunes, are as much out of
Number, by the vice-provost of Trini, place, as English lines of Latin form.
ty, College, Dublin, must acknow- But that objection, not more than bare
ledge. But, in spite of all this, a man's assertion at best, whatever might have
fingers get horribly cramped in jot- been its weight formerly, is of no avail
ting and dotting. It is tiresome work now, since the splendid success of the


1821.)
451
The Enibalmer. No. 1,
#
1
The Protestants of Drogheda
Have reason to be thankful,
That they were all preserved that day,
Though they were but a handful.
In veteris pontis vico, Julique calendis
Atrox pugna fuit, morientia millia campum
Sternebant: Sonitum horribilem tormenta dedere.
In medio spatio tendebat rex Iacobus,
Posset ut ex acie subducere longius, * autem
Igniferos jecit glandes Gulielmus in hostem,
Exussitque statim flammis tentoria cuncta.
Flumen transivere equites tormentaque primum,
His instant pedites; Dux Schonenbergius acer,
Dum transit, vitam deperdit in amne Bubinda.
Strinxit mox humerum Gulielmi glans ab Hibernis ;
Nil nocuit, quanquam de regis morte timerent.
Sint Protestantes Drohedæ super omnia læti,
Quod parvi numero, salvi tunc Marte fuerunt.
III.
GROVES OF BLARNEY.T
The groves of Blarney they are most charming-
Blarnæi nemoraš sunt jucundissima visu.
But I prefer the next verse.
'Tis lady Jeffries, that owns this station,
Like Alexander or Helen fair;
There is no lady in all the nation
For emulation can with her compare.
She has castles round her, that no nine-pounder
Can dare to plunder her place of strength,
But Oliver Cromwell he did her pummel,
And made a hole in her battlement.
Jeffrisa castellum regit, perpulchra virago,
Par et Alexandro pulchræ Helenæque simul,
"I fear I may have misunderstood this line-the original being rather obscure
something like Sir R. Phillips's common sense
† Blarney certainly is a most interesting part of the world. Its famous old castle
“the statues gracing this noble place in"_its Charles the Twelfth, &c.—the various
stories connected with it but, above all, its celebrated stone, render it highly worthy
of public attention. The stone is on the top of the battlements of the castle, and is
bound with iron ; being struck, as it is mentioned in the above quoted verse, by a can-
non shot, when Oliver Cromwell attacked the place; but we believe the story of his be-
ing there rests on rather weak foundations. Any person who kisses that stone, is pri,
vileged to talk blarney all his life ; and many a gentleman we have seen from Ireland
who has proved the efficacy of the ceremony. It is said, but the doctrine is not quite
so authentic, that a dip in the Shannon gives the privilege of never blushing while in
the act of committing blarney. Certain specimens, however, have come under our no.
tice of ingenious Irishmen, who, all unbaptized, were quite free from the sin of chan-
ging complexion. Blarney (not the place, but the thing) is quite a distinct affair from
humbug, as lexicographers must well know. Its fame is widely extended all over the
world, as it was the only English word that the King of Abyssinia was acquainted with,
as you may see by Salt's Travels. Would Mr O'Fogarty, on his recovery, favour us
with an article on the place of his nativity ?
C. N.
Nemora- a long by cæsura. See Dr Carey.


1821.7
The Embalmer. No. I.
453
One of King James's chief commanders,
Now lies the food of crows in Flanders.
Ohone!
0!. Patrici Sarsfield, decus mirantis Ternes,
Cui tonitru simili cernere usus erat:
Jacobi heroas quo non præstantior inter,
Belgarum corvis mortuus esca' jaces.
Eheu!
VII.
ON JOHN, DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH,
By Doctor Evans.
Here lies John, Duke of Marlborough,
Who ran the Frenchmen thorough and thorough ;
Married Sarah Jennings, spinster,
Died in Saint James's, and was buried in Westminster.
Hic jacet Dux Marleburiensis,
Qui Gallos secuit tanquam ensis,
Virginem duxit Jenningiam Saram,
Mortuus Jacobi ad regiam claram,
Sepultus ad Stephani Martyris aram !
I must apologize for introducing a supernumerary line, and also for bring-
ing "regiam claram” rhythmi gratia. Both practices, however, are justifiable
by high poetic authority in this and other countries.
VIII.
CONCLUSION OF THE EPITAPH ON HENRY, DUKE OF GRAFTON, BON OY
CHARLES II., KILLED AT THE SIEGE OF CORK, 1690.*.
Yet a bullet of Cork
It did his work,
Unhappy pellet!
With grief I tell it,
It has undone
Great Cæsar's son !
A statesman's spoild ;
A soldier foild;
God rot him
Who shot him,-
A son of a -it
I say no more.
Here lies Henry, the Duke of Grafton!,
Sed glans Corcensis stravit, miserabile telum,
Heu ! natum rapuit Cæsaris egregii,
Excelsum pariter vel bello consiliisve :-
Cædentis manus occupet atra lues !
Dispereat scorti soboles.--Nil amplius addam.
Hic sunt Henrici Graftonis ossa Ducis.
Shot by a blacksmith, who turned out, quoth the Cork Remembrancer, from a
forge in the Old Post Office lane, as he was crossing the river Lee. The place where
he fell is called Grafton's alley. The epitaph is taken from a book published in 1702,
called Poems on Affairs of State, &c. 2 vols. It is written by Sir F. S-d,
+ There is a pleasant equivoque here. We are left in the dark whether this oppro-
brious name is applied to the blacksmith, or the Duke, of whom we know it was quite
true. Verbruggen, the comedian, cracked a similar joke on the Duke of Saint Albans,
which I believe is in Joe Millar.' I have endeavoured to preserve the equivoque.


The Embalmer. No. I.
[July,
IX.
ON ROBIN HOOD.*
Underneath this little stone,
Lies Robert, Earl of Huntingdon ;
He was in truth an archer good,
And people call's him Robin Hood.
Such outlaws as he and his men
England never will see again.
[Alcaics.]
Paryo Robertus hic situs est comes
Huntingdonensis sub lapide obrutus;
Nemo negabit quam peritus,
Missilibus fuerit sagittis.
Vulgo vocatus Robin-a-Hoodius
Exlex in agris vivere maluit,
In Anglia nunquam Roberto
Vel sociis similes videbis.
22
*)
X.
ON STR DANIEL DONNELLY, C. 1.*
Underneath this pillar high,
Lies Sir Daniel Donnelly;
He was a stout and handy man,
And people call’d him buffing Dan.
Knighthood he took from George's sword,
And well lie wore it by my word !
He died at last, from forty-seven
Tumblers of punch he drank one even.
O'erthrown by punch, unharm'd by fist,
He died unbeaten pugilist.
Such a buffer as Donnelly,
Ireland never again will see.
Hic jacet sub columnâ stratus,
Daniel Donnellius eques auratus ;
Fortis et acer ab omnibus ratus,
Plagosus Daniel cognominatus,
Eques a Georgio fuit creatus,
Ornavitque ordinem equitatus;
Quadraginta septem trucidatus,
Cantharis punchi hic est allatus;
Potu, non pugno, ita domatus,
Cecidit heros nunquam æquatus ;
Hiberniæ insulæ quâ fuit natus
Vir talis non erit posthac datus.
Manum quod aiunt de tabula.
Enough of these.
I strongly recommend any poet who say about four degrees above Matu-
wishes for immortality, to take advan- rin's Universe -- which, I hope, is not
tage of my recipe. I am ready to trans- too much. As for your own work,
late for any gentleman at a fair and Christopher, I know it will live through
reasonable rate. Nor shall I be over ages everlasting; but do you think
hard in requiring any conditions from that readers in the 2821 will be able
him, except that there be a slight de- fully to comprehend its admirable con-
gree of intelligibility in what he writes, tents, through the natural obsoleteness
In Percy's Reliques.
+ From that great work “ Blackwood's Magazine,” No. XXXVIII.
# More antique for domitus.
6


1821)
The Embalmer. No. 1.
453
of the tongue in the space of ten cen- did, that very article (the têtema-tête)
turies? I shall do your verse parts for was executed in a respectable style;
you into most Augustan Latinity; and but his Latin, after all, is commentato-
I promise, old Parr will be able to rial. • Again, offering myself to your
give your prose pretty fair effect. In service,
the Hour's tête-à-tête, you observed
I remain,
that the Latin translation of your work Dear Christopher,
at Leyden is rather lumpish; and in
Yours, most sincerely,
spite of it's editor's long pamphlet in
MUMMIUS,
defence of his Latinity, I am inclined Glasgow, July 9, 1821.
to agree with you, though, to be can-
• To-morrow morning we expect our friend to breakfast, and we shall then talk over
the matter. For our parts, however, we do not see any chance of our ever becoming obso-
lete. In fact, we consider ourselves as having fixed the language
C. N.
THE STEAM-BOAT.
Responsive Notices to Correspondents.
We have endeavoured as much as possible to satisfy the objections of our Port-Glas-
gow correspondents. None can regret more than we do, that Mr Duffle should have
said so much about their highly respectable town and steeple ; but our friend Mr B-
may rely upon't that we shall attend to his suggestion. Indeed we have requested the
author to spare them for the future.
Our systematic abhorrence of every thing that may be considered personal, has indu-
ced us to suppress Mr Duffle's account of the party with whom he dined at Greenock,
although we must confess that our readers suffer by our rigid virtue in this instance, for
it was by far the most humorous sketch that we have yet received of local manners and
parochial self-importance. The description of “ the funny man that made the punch,"
is inimitable. Particular friends may have a peep in the back-shop, but the article is
too spicy for the public.
We are at all times obliged by the hints of our correspondents ; but really Mr Colin
M.Kempock of Gourock hits a little too hard. In his former letter, and we gave it all
due acknowledgment, he seemed possessed of more urbanity than on the present occa-
sion. As for the facetious Mr Buchannan Bogle of Glasgow, we can only say, that we
never wished for any thing more earnestly, than permission to publish his letters. They
will do credit to his learned and manufacturing town. Do pray, Mr Bogle, allow us to
insert the last. Nothing in English literature can exceed your description of the confabu-
lation between you and Mr Sweeties in the sample-room ; where bon mots are as plenti-
ful as coffee beans, and wits as various as the skantling of a cargo of rum, to say no-
thing of heads as well filled as cotton bags.
Our personal friend and correspondent, Mr C of Liverpool, need be under no
anxiety. Should there be any thing calculated to wound his feelings in Mr Duffle's ac-
count of that town, it will, out of our particular respect for him, be assuredly sup-
pressed.
THE STEAM-BOAT.
No. V.
Voyage Second, Concluded.
By this time the afternoon was far through ; and as I had promised to Mrs
MʻLecket to be at home to my own bed by the retour of the steamboats, I was
obligated to leave the company round the bowl ; so I came away, and found my
old friend the Waterloo, at the custom-house quay, on the point of departure,
with a various assortment of characters on board, some of whom, as I was in a
blythe mood by reason of the goodness of Mr Tartan's punch and hospitality,
entered into a jocose conversation with me, the which was really very facetious
for a time, and lasted till we paid our respects to the douse town of Port-Glas-
VOL. IX.
3L


450
The Steam-Boat. No. 7.
[July,
gow. After landing such of the cargo as were belonging to that sea-port, she
paddles were set a-going again, and away we went. By the time we had pass-
ed the old castle, I observed a man sitting by himself, that I took a curiosity
to converse with.
TALE VII.
THE DUMBIE's son.
He was a pale thin man, very fair observe, which he said was exceeding,
in the complexion, with light grey ly just and philosophical, he said that,
eyes, and an odd and unsound look. without entering upon any controver-
By his talk I gathered he had come sy, he would relate to me some anec-
from among the lakes of Cumberland dotes of his own life, which he was
and the hills of Westmoreland, and sure would convince me of the sound-
that he had been out on an adventure ness of his opinion.
to the Highland lochs and islands, on “ You must know," resumed he, af-
some superstitious inquiry anent their ter some farther digression from the
poetical, and other monuments of times point, “ that I do not consider myself
past, and forgotten antiquity. Having as a common man of this world, for I
satisfied his curiosity, he was bound have been brought up under circum-
homeward, and I jealoused by his cackle, stances, which, perhaps, no other ever
that he was hard with egg for the experienced. I am the only child of
publication of a book concerning Icolm- a dumb man and dumb woman-dumb
kiln, Staffa, and other fantastical pla- and deaf they were both from their
ces, where the monks and druids were birth, and I was seven years old before
wont to hold their houffs and congre- I heard the intellectual voice of man
gations.
--that voice and organ by which his
As we sailed along, I rehearsed to spirit communes with its fellows. !
him at great length, and with the ut- had, it is true, heard the babble and
most particularity in my power to do, jabber of tongues from those clods of
the whole tot of the history that Deu- the valley, that bear the impress of hu-
calion of Kentucky had told me in the manity, like the counters of base met-
morning ; to the hearing of which he tal, stamped with the mintage of the
gave great heed, declaring, that surely guinea—but no vocal effusion of soul
the man had a colouring of genius in had passed in my hearing.
his thought's part, beyond the
common “My father and mother lived in a
prosaic nature of the American mind, small cottage by themselves on the
with other high mystical touches of a banks of the Combermere. No path led
phraseology that had the same sort to their dwelling. Nature had impo-
of resemblance to ordinary discourse, sed silence upon them, and interdict-
which the flavour of grouse has to ed them from holding communion with
barn-door bens, a difference which I their species. I was, in consequence,
late had occasion to observe in some of left without any instructor. They could
my voyages and travels. He then said tell me nothing; and the scenes chan-
to me that there was certainly some- ged around me, and objects daily pass-
thing very wonderful in the reflections ed which I viewed with wonder, but
of the human understanding when left sought not to discover whence or what
to itself, and that natural enthusiasm they were. The boats that sailed on
was but a state of vision in which the the lake I thought were birds, but I
mind passed on to the contemplation understood the mute intelligence of
of the result of certain considerations, the eyes of the cattle and sheep on the
without pausing to compare them with pastures around, as I did the looks of
worldly circumstances. I replied to him, my silent parents.
that really his remark was above my “When I was about six years old my
reach ; but no doubt it had a foundae mother died. I knew not then what
tion somewhere, and if not in the order death was, but I have since acquired
of things, without question in his own the painful knowledge. I saw her
imagination, which was still a some- weak and moaning, and my father sit-
thing wherein the powers of naturemust ting by her pillow, and constantly ho-
be allowed to inherit, and possess some vering over her bed. His tears fell fast
sort of sway and dominion. At this as he looked at her; at last she gave a


1821.3
The Steam-Boat. Noi v.
457
faint struggle, and from that moment had led me by the hand, performed a
she moved no more. My father watch- strange ceremony over them. I knew
ed her for some time with eager and not its purport; his lips moved. I
sorrowful eyes, and then, as if sudden- heard a sound, but it only made my
ly awakened from a slumber, he start- spirit hungry, while it chilled it with
ed up from the place where he was sit- an indescribable dread.
ting, and taking me by the hand, led “When this was done, the two awful
me out of the cottage, which he care- black chests were removed into the
fully fastened behind me, and lifting enclosure. I then remarked, that al-
me in his arms, carried me to a hamlet, though it was greener than the fields,
about three miles from our house in it was nothing like them, but heaved
the solitude. By signs, he made the up vinto turfy pillows, some of which
peasants understand that they were to were adorned with stones, mossy and
take care of me, and he stretched him- furred with the impress of many years.
self on the ground, and strewed earth I could not imagine for what use they
over him. Every one looked on, and were placed there, but there was a sad
seemed dejected. He then went away, ness in the countenances of the people
and I never saw him again.
that oppressed my spirit.
“About a week after this event, an When we had traversed this strange
old man, whom I have since learnt enclosure, close to the wall I saw a
was the pastor of the parish, came, and deep hole trenched out,-into this the
took me by the hand, and conducted two black boxes were slowly lowered,
me to a house where a great number and a little earth was thrown upon
of the country folks were assembled, them. How dreadful to me was the
and when they saw us, they brought rattle of that little earth on these mys-
out two large black chests from the tcrious arks.-I had heard the sum-
house, and having placed them on their mer thunder answered by all the
shoulders, they all mutely followed. echoes of the mountain, but it was
I could not divine, in my young won. not so dreadful as the sound of that
der, what the solemnity meant, but I shovel-full of earth.—Then the hole
was moved with an awful fear, and my was filled up, and I was led back,
heart beat so thickly, that I could with and placed by the old pastor under
difficulty breathe.
the charge of a poor woman in the
“They marched on to a green enclo- hamlet, by whom I was taught to
sure, in the middle of which an old speak and to commune with my fel-
large house was situated. It had a lows; but the memory of that spectacle
strange and deserted look, and in the was ever before me,—it was in my
furniture there was nothing of which, heart, although I knew not till long
in my simplicity, I could discover the after that it was the funeral of my
use. In it, however, they placed the dumb parents.”
twoblack chests; and the old man, who
There was something in this tale, and in the way the Lake man told it,
that made all who heard it eirie, and, as it were, afraid of something no one
could tell what.-Besides, the night was set in, and though it was as beauti-
ful as the summer ever showed, nature being in a state of composure, the
heavens, with all their eyes of light, looking calm upon the world, and the
moon shining on the water, yet there was a silence in the air that was felt at the
heart, and the sound of the steam-boat's paddles was likened by the Dumbie's
son to the wheels of the world that bear us along the tide of time. In short,
I know not how it was, but we all fell into a kind of religious charm about
the depths and wonders of nature, and the unfathomable sympathies of the
heart of man. At last Mr Gauze of Paisley, who was of our company, a well
read paukie carl, that kens more than he lets on, seeing the frame of our re-
flections, began, in a far off way, to cast about his cantrips, with the which I
leave the courteous reader to guess what he did, by the rehearsal of the fol.
lowing story, in the telling of which it is not to be described what he effected,
not only by his awsome look and voice, but the aids and helps he got from the
scene of night, and the solemn waters through which our vessel was ettling


438
The Steam-Boat. No. V.
[July,
her weary way towards the Renfrew ferry, for by this time we had left Dum-
barton Castle far behind, and had passed Dunotter, that ancient ruin, of which
I have never been able to get any further account, than that it is supposed to
have been bigget by the Picts, and doutless has had the curse of God proa
nounced against its owners, since they are all utterly perished from off the
face of the earth. However, to return to Mr Gauze-
TALE VIII.
KING CHARLES AND THE WITCHES.
“Once on a time,” said he," when sion and effect. What I have to say,
the funny King Charles was in great is of an adventure that befell myself,
straits, and jeopardy, of fortune, as he when I was a lad, before going to the
was sitting in the midst of his courtiers College of Glasgow.
and counsellors after supper in his pa “Your majesty has belike heard that
lace, heavy and worn out in spirit, he there are certain mystical women in
declared on his honour as a prince, the world called witches. In the shire
that he felt himself so oppressed and of Renfrew, we have had both in time
weighed down, he would grant to any past, and at present, no small trouble
one of them the first reasonable petie with their pranks, and it is as thoa
tion he might have occasion to pre- roughly believed among the country
sent, who would lighten his fancy that folk as the gospel, that the witches are
night: whereupon, all the courtiers in the practice of gallanting over field
and counsellors began to strive with and flood after sun-set, in the shape of
one another to divert his majesty, cats and mawkins, to dance the La Vol-
every one telling something that was ta, with a certain potentate that I shall
to be more comical than the tales which not offend your majesty, by naming.
had gone before. But their endeavours “ I should here explain, that the
were all in vain ; the more tribulation witches, when they take the shape of
they put themselves to in order to hares, charm away the power of pou-
make the king laugh, and grow again ther and lead, so that unless the gun
jocose, the more they, saddened his be loaded with silver, it will not go off,
royal spirit, till he said in the words or, if it does go off, it will not kill, es-
of Solomon," vanity of vanities, all is pecially in the hands of a young sports-
vanity."
man; and that the best antidote to
“Butit happened, that there was that their charm, is for the sportsman, when
night in the presence a learned dise he is an experienced hand, to put a
creet doctor of divinity, from the west pair of silver sleeve-buttons in his
country, on some concern.of the kirk fowling-piece. When he does this, and
which required a canny handling to fires with effect, it is said, and the fact
bring to a proper issue ; and he, seeing is often well attested, the hare will ne-
the weak and feckless striving of the ver be seen again, but beyond the
lords and gentlemen, said, "May it next hedge, some dubious carlin will
please your majesty, I would do the in all human probability be found rid-
part of a loyal subject in this matter; dled in the hips, saying her prayers
but the stories I have to tell are nó backwards: what I have to tell is an
such wonderful as those which your undoubted proof of this, for it happen-
majesty has graciously endeavoured to ed to myself in the presence of the late
indure." The words of which address Logan of that ilk, a man of singular
so drew the king's attention, that he piety, and one of the best shots in the
desired the doctor (Halket, I believe, Shire of Ayr.
was his name,) to tell him one of his “Being staying with him, we one day
tales.
went out to shoot. It was in the after-
“I doubt, most dread monarch,"re- noon. We started nothing, and we staid
plied the doctor, “ that what I have late, not easily content, as your majesty
to tell will obtain little credit here; may well think, with such profitless
but as your majesty is well known to sport. But I trow we have both had
be, in the words of the prayer-book, a cause to remember long that after-
most religious sovereign, perhaps it noon ; for in the gloaming, as we were
may be blessed on your majesty's pious coursing with our dejected dogs, the
frame of mind, with a salutary impres, which were as disappointed as our.


1921.]
The Steam-Boat. No. V.
459
selves, we started, as we thought, a the Reformation, herrit the monks'
hare out of a whin bush. It ran be- nests throughout Coningham. Many
fore us, in every gesture, lith, and a sad story was told of that place. It
limb, just like a hare, and the dogs would crudle the royal blood in your
pursued it as if it had been nothing majesty's sacred veins, were I to relate
less natural. We followed, never doubt- what is told and believed concerning
ing that it was a hare.
the deeds done by the popish friars in
“Afine har’st evening had set in, and that ruinous monastery. One day, when
the new-moon, the sickle of Time, be a farmer, whom I knew, was pulling
tokened, in the western heavens, that dow a piece the wall to help to
Nature was binding up the sheaves of mend a dike, he found the skeleton of
our days ; but, nevertheless, we fol. a human hand built in with the stones.
lowed our game, never suspecting that What more he discovered he never
it was any thing but a poor terrified would reveal, but from that day he was
mawkin. Logan took a vizy, and fired, an altered man. However, to return
but his gun flashed in the pan: I like from this degression, please your ma-
wise presented, and, in the same mo- jesty, the moon and twilight shone
ment, my hand was smitten with a bright on the abbey walls, and we saw
cramp, or something no canny, but the hare, as we thought, as perfect as
neither of us, for all that, entertained possible, cowering along the bottom of
any doubt of the hare being what it the wall. I would have fired, but Logan
appeared—a hare.
stopped me. He was a worthy pious
* Well, sir, please your majesty, man.
Logan primed again, and I, having “ Lend me your sleeve-buttons,"
beaten the life into my fingers, follow- said he. They were Bristol stones set
ed the game, and fired, but missed.- in silver. The manner in which he
This set Logan foremost, and he short-spoke was very solemn. It made the
ly after also fired. He might as well flesh crawl on my bones, and my hair
have whistled; what we had at first to rise. I said nothing, but took the
thought a haré continued to scamper buttons from my shirt-sleeves, keeping
on unhurt.
my eye sted fast on the hare, as we both
“By this time I had loaded again, and thought it was. He did the same. The
again, after running on some twenty buttons out of my right sleeve he put
paces in the track of the beast, confi. into hisgun.“Put the others in yours,"
dent I had a hare in view, I fired a se- 'said he.--I did so." In the name of
cond time. It was of no avail.—Logan the Lord,” cried he, “ take aim." We
having in the meanwhile loaded, came presented together; we both fired in
up to me.
the same moment, and ran to the spot
“ In the pursuit, we had followed the where we thought a hare had been.-
hare, as we thought it was, to the walls “ And what the devil was it?” cried
of an old abbey. It had been a sancti- the king.-" Please your majesty," re-
fied place in the times of popery, but plied the doctor, “'It was just a fine
it was burnt down when Glencairn, at fat hare."
During the time of this recital, one Mrs MʻFreat, a decent carlin from Oban,
was particularly attentive; but at the end, when we were all laughing at King
Charles' disappointment, she said, with a very serious countenance, that we
were no doubt free to guff awa as we pleased, but for her part, she had reason to
know and ken that there was many a thing in this world that required an ex-
planation : and then she proceeded and told us how, one morning in the last
summer-but I will relate what she said at full length, in her own words.
TALE IX.
THE WRAITH.
“ A fine morning it was,” said she, three months, but a thoughtful lassie
“the lift clear, and the air brisk, and for her time o' life, could na rest in
every thing without young and fresh, her bed; she was eirie and unco, and
and quickened, as it were, with the fain and fu', under the constraint and
sense of a living power. My youngest pushing on of an invisible hand,-in
dochter, Flora, a bairn o'ten years and short, she could na be mastered, and


1821.]
461
Parliament.
PARLIAMENT .
The progress of the late Session has infamous falsehoods, on which the
left little for history. It was occupied whole trade of rebellion was fed, should
with the routine of public business be made the subject of punishment.
sufficiently important to the day, but Libel is infectious. The same spirit
signalized by no peculiar impression which assaulted the King, would have
on the spirit of public affairs. The gradually descended through society,
Session began and closed with the until the private life of every indivi-
Queen. The decision of the Lords dual must have been at the mercy of
was more than sustained in the Com- the pens, which would have trans-
mons, for, by the time of their assem- mitted them to the mercy of the dag-
bling, public folly had found leisure gers of revolution. Personal feelings,
to evaporate; the artifices of the po- as well as public, were palpably inte-
pular disturbers had been understood; rested in the restraint of this desperate
the Queen's personal conduct, as the system; but it has been doubted, whe-
alarm was removed, had become more ther the proceedings of the Association
illustrative of the truth; and, in con- would not have been eventually more
sequence, the Commons rejected, by effective, by determining their chief
great majorities, all cognizance of her weight to prevention, rather than to
complaints and claims. The “ Man- punishment. Their original resolu-
chester riots," a portion of the same tions certainly gave the impression of
system of revolutionary tactics, were their combatting the evil by the force
brought forward under the same dis- of argument.
advantages of exhausted oratory, and No permanent influence can be esta-
detected misrepresentation. The old blished upon the general mind but by
figurants displayed their attitudes of reasoning; it may be necessary to rend
defiance and supplication, till the away an incorrigible offender by the
House dismissed them with ridicule, arm of the law; but the work is to
and the topic was extinguished for be begun again; the root is prolific,
ever. Mr Scarlett was among the most and the probability is, that the crime
persevering candidates for the honours of a revolutionary and scandalous press
of this laughter. The business of a will become only more desperate by
barrister would be a formidable ob- the more determined system of legal
stacle to the political partizanship, ex- infliction. The two stimulants to re-
cept for a barrister's pliancy. Mr Scar, volutionary writing are profit and po-
lett had at York fairly enough proved pularity: To a mind of unsettled ho-
Hunt to be a public disturber, and, as nesty, there is an almost irresistible
such, had been the instrument of fling- temptation in being quoted and caress-
ing him into a dungeon,
ed by the multitude, and of being
The proceedings of the Constitutione raised from obscurity and beggary into
al Association became the frequent sub- comparative opulence. The true wis-
ject of discussion. The arguments on dom is to cut off the temptation, by
both sides have been expanded through instilling knowledge and principle into
too many debates, and sent out to the the people. Then the libel will find
world in too many newspapers, to be no readers, and the scribbler will be
worth detailing. "The justice of the driven to some of the hundred harm-
question is narrow. Is the association less and obscure occupations which are
legal? On this point the strongest aus made for narrow intellects and vulgar
thority of law has been quoted in the habitudes. The publications of the
affirmative; and, in fact, no man but Constitutional Association seem to have
Mr Ex-Sheriff Parkins, an absurd occupied a very inferior portion of their
struggler for popularity among the diligence. Some tracts of merit have
mob, has ventured to question the been issued; but their pledge of making
right of the association. The pru- a direct application to the intelligence
dence of their proceedings is a matter of the literary body of the empire,
of another dye. It was undoubtedly has been but imperfectly redeemed.
desirable, for the sake of public peace, It should, undoubtedly, have been
that the perpetual insults to the person among their first steps to have origi-
and character of the King, should be nated some periodical publication,
extinguished, and that the gross and some journal, to which the contribu-


1821.3
Parliamenti
463
he utterly failed in his chief object kind, and without hazarding the hope
the overthrow of England ; and he of restoration. She more than realized
failed, not from the calamities of time the (fable of the hero's spear—if her
and seasons, but from the defect of po- weapon smote, it was only to heal.
litical sagacity. He was unacquainted Napoleon's commercial decrees were
with the first principles of a strength the feeble opposition of a self-willed
compounded of commercial opulence ignorance; and in the face of their in-
and public spirit. With the crude potence, the commerce of England in-
learning of a military academy, and the creased fourfold. When she at length
classic affectation which seems to be exerted her partial force against him,
engrafted in every Frenchman, he calle he was driven from all contention. She
ed England Carthage ; and thought, crushed him at sea, and stripped him
that, like Carthage, the magnificent of the hope of a navy. She finally, in
vigour of England was to be ruined by a single encounter, broke his strength
battles and sieges, and paltry attempts into fragments at land, and turned him
to draw a line of circumvallation round into a puppet and a mockery. If there
her trade. He was unable to see the had been a highway from Dover to
distinction between a small continental Calais five-and-twenty years ago, Wan
power, sustained by mercenaries, and terloo would have been anticipated by
cut off by a jealous policy from the five-and-twenty years. The strength
good-will of other nations, and a of England, - a strength which, with
mighty empire, commanding the seas, reference to all human uses, may be
shutting the gates of the ocean upon called unlimited, would have arisen
France, defended by a vast, free, and like the giant refreshed, and pour
valorous population, and with every ed over the strait, and left nothing
people of the earth bound by a strong of the frivolous and fickle resist
self-interest to the success of its cause. ance of Frenchmen, but the feelings
This was a grand mistake, and one that survive in prostrate minds and
which totally degrades the political fettered limbs. It is almost idle to
wisdom of Napoleon. When the af- talk of England as having been at war.
ter-time shall come, in which we shall Within the borders of the Empire all
be able to look upon the field of battle was peace. We read of harvests tramp-
as the field of history, our astonish- led, and cities in conflagration, but
it
ment will be, not that Napoleon had was with the remote feeling of the
failed to conquer, but that he had been sufferings of another sphere. We never
able to resist. He was altogether over saw an enemy's banner bat as a trophy,
matched in power by England, and he we never heard the sound of a cannon
would have been crushed in war if her but as the signal of a triumph. We
whole policy had not been defensive. heard of war as the scourge of other
She never put out her force. She look- nations; but the sufferings of war
ed upon herself from the commence came to our ears only as matter of cu-
ment as the protectress of Europe; and riosity. Melancholy and painful in-
the blows that might have smitten the deed, but only as a pain in which we
French usurpation were held in sus- indulged, from the common sympathy
pence by a noble reluctance to involve with human misfortune. For this
the innocent with the guilty. She magnificent strength and glorious ex-
“check'd her thunders in mid-volley.” emption, we have to be grateful to a
The command of the sea is the com- higher Source than the wisdom or for-
mand of the earth. England might tune of man. But they were built on
have revolutionized. every maritime ancient foundations of national pros-
country upon the globe, and have perity, and not to have estimated their
thrown the weight of their fury upon depth and solidity, shewed nothing
the dominions of Napoleon. She might but weakness and narrowness in the
have made the whole circle of islands mind of their enemy.
round Europe a chain of fire. She Napoleon is now beyond the power
might have inflamed every wild pas- of disturbing the world; he ought to
sion, and secret revenge, and bloody receive the measure of lenity which
ambition of the earth, and turned the belongs to a man beyond the power of
whole burning torrent upon France defending himself. But it would be
and its revolution. But this she could gross injustice to human nature, to at-
not have done without loss of princi- tribute his guilt to its mere common
ple, without infinite injury to man- weaknesses. He was selfish, perfidious,
VOL. IX.
3 M


464
Parliament.
[July,
bloody. He had no value for any life ports, was an unheard-of perfidy, still
but his own-to secure that life he more cruel than the imprisonment of
spared no crime. He never had an ob- his military captives. Of those 12,000
ject of suspicion whom he did not English, not more than one third ever
make away with, and that privately. returned. In the thirteen years of
Villeneuve was summoned to Paris, to their bondage, the prospects of the
account for fighting at Trafalgar with- majority were totally destroyed; the
out orders—he had the orders in Na- mature had been separated from their
poleon's own hand; he shewed them professions and habits of life, the old
in England, and was advised not to died at a distance from their families,
venture. The unfortunate admiral and the young grew into manhood
set out, and was found half way to without a pursuit. Innumerable hearts
Paris, with three mortal wounds in in England were made wretched by
his back. Wright was found with his the separation of those on whom their
throat cut, and with a razor and news. happiness or subsistence depended;
paper beside him, while it was notori- and for this misery, which plunged
ous that neither razors nor newspapers many a one to an early grave, the ty-
were allowed within the Temple. His rant of France solely had to answer.
other barbarities, the deaths of Palm, His private life was the fitting root for
Pichegru; and D'Enghien; the poison- his public enormities. His conduct to
ing of his sick soldiers, and the mas Josephine was of the most heartless in-
sacre of his prisoners in Syria ; all gratitude ; he was an adulterer and an
things of notoriety, are each 'sufficient apostate. Passion has with some men
to give the name of any man down to served as a feeble excuse for the one,
the execration of posterity. With the and prejudice for the other; with him,
power of good and evil, he chose evil. the cause of both crimes was selfish-
There is not on record a single act of ness, and his punishment came from
his clemency, or generosity, or public his selfishness. It made him shrink,
spirit. He crushed the hope of when to shrink was to be undone; and,
freedom in France, and would have finally, it sent him, stripped of empire,
crushed it through the world. He fame, and public commiseration, from
was a tyrant in the darkest sense a hopeless dungeon to a dishonoured
of the name. He established eight grave. If his oath could have been be-
prison houses for political offences, lieved by any power, he might have sat
and from those there was to be no free and prosperous to the last, but his
redemption but the grave. In 1814, perfidy extinguished all compromise.
the return of the imprisoned on state He was felt to be that enemy of man-
charges was 50,000. He kept 70,000 kind, whom no faith could bind;-to
of his own subjects in English prisons, have suffered him on a throne would
for the mere purpose of keeping as have been only to prepare new mis.
many English and Spaniards in French fortunes for the earth. He was declared
prisons. A word from him would have an outlaw by the hearts of all nations,
extinguished this mighty mass of mi- before he was by their lips; and after
sery;
but he had no feeling for human having run the career of a villain, he
misery. His seizure of the English died the death of a slave.
families travelling under his own pass-


466
A few words to our Contributors.
[July,
A clever paper, on A plan for observing the Day of Coronation with Festive
Solemnity, is too late. The day will have passed before we publish. The plan
would have been an excellent one. Our correspondent suggests, that a sum to en,
tertain 10,000 poor people, at a shilling a-head, should be raised; that a table
should be extended in the High-Street, from the Mount of Proclamation to the
Palace of Holyrood ; that the whistling master of arts, or any other great ora-
tor, should be in the chair ; and the greasy advocate croupier ; that as speeches
are indispensibly requisite at a great dinner, and as it would be impossible for
any human being to send sweet music to such a distance, every ten yards
there should be stationed a repeater, who should give out to his district the
discourse from the chair ; that these telegraph-orators should convey the speech
to the croupier, who should give it from the bottom of the table, &c. The
picture of 10,000 people eating-of the High-Street one continued line of mas-
tication—is overpoweringly sublime. It would be a fine subject for the ima-
ginative pen of Wordsworth. Lord Byron would not do it so well.
Haggart's Memoirs, by
Esq. have come to hand. We
shall think about them. We knew Haggart well, and respected him ; for,
though somewhat absurdly addicted to murder and robbery, he was an amiable
young man in the main. His book discovers great powers; is far superior, as a
piece of autobiography, to the similar production of Bishop Watson; and evin-
ces talents which we think would have marked him peculiarly for a lecturer
on natural philosopy.
Doctor Scott on Gum-boils, smells horribly of shop.
If Mr bas done wrong in marrying his servant lassie, what is that to
us ? Verax had better mind his own affairs.
Description of the New Church of Auchtermuchtie,” is sent to the Gen-
tleman's Magazine.
Spare us, good poets ! "Sonnet to the Moon"—not bad—“Ode to Nep-
tune”-trash. “ To Mary"-Psha ! “On Things in General”—a fine poem
on a fine subject, but not polished. Would the author give us leave to re-
touch ? “On a Wooden Spoon"-nonsense. “On the Edinburgh Troop"—
so fine a body of men require a finer poem. We shall do one ourselves. Bat
we could not by any possibility get through it, if we were to notice half the
poets we have on hands. Briefly we thank them all, good, bad, and indiffe-
rent.
Carter's Lecture on Antemundane Pugilism, delivered in the Hall of the
Cork Scientific and Literary Society, Faulkner's Lane, is received. We re-
member seeing something about this in the Literary Gazette. It reflects cre-
dit on the taste of that learned body, that they patronize so eminent a man as
Carter. We shall insert it when we have room.
Sir T. C. Morgan must wait.
Our friend in Canada shall see his article in our next.
When will Z. send us his Cockney School of Science, No. I. Sir R. Phil.
lips ? He promised it long ago. It would be a pity to let the Series on the Cocke
down--it was so benevolent and agreeable to every body.
Hyman Hurwitz's book in answer to Bellamy is good, learned, and witty.
He has completely overthrown his charlatan antagonist. But we do not wish
to get into biblical controversy, and must therefore reluctantly refuse Doctor
Petre's learned and excellent letter on the subject. We are sorry to refuse the
Doctor. Would he have the goodness to favour us with his present address ?
A. S. should put another S. to his name. He amply deserves it.
ney School
go


468
[July,
Works preparing for Publication.
WORKS PREPARING FOR PUBLICATION.
LONDON
To be published by Subscription, Ser. Anonymous, Modenese, and the Traité des
mons on the Divine Revelation, and on the Amateurs ; and containing many remark-
Canonical Rules of the Old Testament; by able situations, original as well as selected.
Robert Jones, D.D.
Illustrated by numerous diagrams, and an
Amidst the Volume of Sermons that is engraved frontispiece.
sue from the press, there seems yet want Mr Ackermann proposes to publish, in
ing a plain detail of Divine Revelation, as 1 vol. imperial 8vo., a History of Madeira,
more especially evidenced in the pages of with a series of twenty-seven coloured en-
Holy Scripture.
gravings, illustrative of the costumes, man.
To furnish a succinct and convincing ners, and occupations of the inhabitants ;
view of the different manifestations of God's containing upwards of sixty characteris-
will to man, appears the best means of pre- tic figures, accompanied by historical and
paring the mind for a due consideration of descriptive letter-press.
the truth, contents, and connection of the In an 8vo. volume, a Translation of the
sacred books.
greater part of the Faust of Goëthe, with
Such are the objects attempted in this Moser's Etchings of the celebrated Outline
volume. The Sermons were suggested by Plates.
the infidel temper and blasphemous publi Mr Charles Marsh has in the press a
cations of the day, and were expressly writ- Life of the Right Honourable W. Wind-
ten for a large and very mixed congrega- ham, comprising Interesting Correspond-
tion, to which they have been preached, it ence, and Memoirs of his Time.
is to be at least hoped, with some portion In the press, a Novel, called, The Sol.
of benefit.
dier's Child ; or, Virtue Triumphant ; by
• Though the author, in the wide field Charlotte Caroline Richardson, author of
which presented itself, has not scrupled to Harvest, a poem ; also of Isaac and Re-
become indebted to the historical and cri- becca, and other Poems.
tical labours of others, it has been his in Mr Lowe, the author of the Statistical
dividual aim to inculcate through every Articles on England and France, in the
Sermon the doctrines and duties of the New Supplement to the Edinburgh Ency-
Gospel of Jesus Christ.
clopædia Britannica, is preparing for the
The Work will be comprised in one oc- press, a volume on the Situation and Pros.
tavo volume, Price 12s. and will be put to pects of England, in regard to Agriculture,
press as soon as an adequate number of sub- Trade, and Finance.
scribers is obtained.
Preparing for the press, a new edition of
A second volume, containing the the Dramatic Composition of Gambold,
Apocrypha and the New Testament, is in entitled, the Martyrdom of Ignatius ; with
preparation, and will hereafter be publish- a Prefatory Dissertation.
ed, should encouragement be given to the The History of the Roman Empire, from
present undertaking.
the Accession of Augustus, to the Death of
Mr Roscoe has issued proposals for pub- the younger Antoninus.
lishing by subscription a Collection from
Shortly will be published, the Life of
the Works of the most celebrated Poets of Colley Cibber, with Additional Notes, Re-
Italy, from the end of the 12th, to the be- marks, &c. ; by Mr E. Bellchambers.
ginning of the 19th century ; arranged in The Rev. Robert Hall has in the press
chronological order, and accompanied by a new edition of his Apology for the Free-
Biographical and Critical Accounts of their dom of the Press, with some Additions.
Lives and Writings, extracted from the Mr Ackermann will shortly publish, in
most distinguished writers on the literary six elegant pocket volumes, illustrated with
history of Italy. It will be printed in 48 seventy-three coloured engravings, con-
Parts, 8vo.; each to average 400 pages, and taining upwards of one hundred and fifty
12 to be delivered in the year. It will also costumes, a Concise History of Turkey-a
be ornamented with portraits.
Description of the Court of the Grand Sig.
Sir Walter Scott, Messrs Crabbe, Southey, nior–of the Officers and Ceremonies, Ci.
Milman, Heber, Wrangham, and other po- vil, Military, and Religious; and of the
pular poets of the day, are, it is said, em- Costumes, Manners, and other Peculiari-
ployed in framing Hymns and Psalms for ties characteristic of the Turkish Empire,
the use of the Established Church of Eng- being the third division.
land. This, it is expected, will confer a Preparing for the press, by Mr Maxwell,
character on our religious poetry, which it author of the Plurality of Worlds, a Trans-
has long wanted.
lation of a Latin Work of A. S. Calcott,
Shortly will be published, in 8vo., by L.L.B.; being an Attempt to Recover the
John Cochrane, Esq. a Treatise on the Principles of the Ancient or True Philoso-
Game of Chess, including the games of the phy, collected from the Sacred Writings,


470
[July,
Monthly List of New Publications.
MONTHLY LIST OF NEW PUBLICATIONS.
FINE ARTS.
LONDON.
ASTRONOMY.
cise Instructions for preparing good and
The Excursions of a Spirit; with a wholesome Pickles, Vinegar, Conserves,
Survey of the Planetary World, á Vision; Fruits, Jellies, Marmalades, and various
with four illustrative Plates. 12mo. 5s. other Alimentary Substances employed in
Elements of Astronomy. By A. Picquot. Domestic Economy; with Observations on
12mo. 75. éd.
the Chemical Constitution and Nutritive
BIBLIOGRAPHY.
Qualities of different kinds of Food; with
R. Beckley's Supplement to his Cata- Copperplates. By Fred. Accum. 8vo.
logue.
Is. 6d.
R. Baynes's Catalogue of Books for
DRAMA.
1821-22, of nearly 9000 articles, contain Saul, a Tragedy ; translated from the
ing many rare and curious Books in Divi- Italian of Alfieri ; and Jephtha's Daugh-
nity, Sermons, MSS. &c. 3s.
ter, a Scriptural Drama. By a Lady. 58.
BIOGRAPHY
Damon and Pythias ; a Tragedy in five
A Biographical Dictionary of the Wor acts. By John Banim. 8vo. 3s. 6d.
thies of Ireland, from the earliest period Ethelwolf; or the Danish Pirates, a
to the present time. By Rich. Ryan. 8vo. Tragedy. By J. F. Pennie. 8vo. 3s. 6d.
2 vols. 30s.
EDUCATION.
A Short Account of the Life of Sir The Student's Pocket Dictionary of Li-
Joseph Banks, K. B. By A. Duncan, M.D. terary and Scientific Words. 3s. 6d.
8vo. Is. 6d.
A Manuel of logic. By J. W. Carvil
Life of the Hon. W. Pitt. By Dr Tom. 38.
line, Bishop of Winchester. 3 vols. 8vo.
36s.
The Martial Achievements of Great Bri-
BOTANY.
tain and her Allies, during the most me-
Collectanea Botanica ; containing Fi. morable Period of Modern History. Ele-
gures and Botanical Illustrations of rare phant 4to. embelished with 51 Engravings,
and curious exotic Plants, chiefly culti-coloured in imitation of the Drawings.
vated in the Gardens of Great Britain. £13, 138. half-bound, or, on large paper,
By John Lindley, F. L. S. and H. S. No. 4. £27, 6s.
8vo. Coloured. 12s.
The Naval Achievements; with 51 co.
THE CORONATION.
loured Engravings; half-bound, £13, 13s.
Collections relative to the Claims at the or, on large paper, £27, 6s.
Coronations of several of the Kings of The Banks of Loire Illastrated, No. I.
England, beginning with King Richard II. with Descriptions, and four Plates and
8vo. 5s.
a Vignette, etched from drawings. By Geo
A Key to the Regalia ; or the Emble- Lewis. Royal 4to, 10s. 6d. Proofs on In-
matic Design of the various Forms obser- dia paper, 158.
ved in the Ceremonial of a Coronation ; Picturesque Scenery of the River Dart,
interspersed with unpublished Anecdotes in Devonshire, being a Series of 35 Views,
of the late King. By the Rev.Jonas Dennis, and three Vignettes. Drawn and engraved
Prebendary of Kerswell, Exeter. 8vo. by F. C. Lewis. Fol. £2, 8s. ; with the
An Account of the Coronation of the Etchings, £4.
Kings of England, with a Description of Letters on the Scenery of Wales ; in.
the Dresses, &c. Is. 6d.
cluding a series of Subjects for the Pencil,
The Glory of Regality ; an Historical and Instructions to Pedestrian Tourists.
Treatise of the Anointing and Crowning By the Rev. R. H. Newell; with numerous
of the Kings and Queens of England. By Plates. Royal 8vo. 15s.
Arthur Taylor, F. S. A. 8vo. 15s. Large Physiognomical Portraits, Part II. con-
paper, £1, 10s.
taining Biographical Notices in French
A Faithful Account of the Procession and English, and 10 Portraits, printed on
and Ceremonies observed in the Coronation, French paper. Imperial 8vo. £1, 1s.
&c. of George III. and Queen Charlotte. Cabinet of Arts, No. XXX. 35.
Edited by Rich. Thomson. 8vo. Plates. Repository of Arts, No. 65. 45.
Sixteen Engravings from real Scenes,
The Round Table; the Order and So- "supposed to be described in the Novels and
lemnities of Crowning the King, &c. 8vo. Tales of the Author of Waverley, &c.
Coronation Ceremonies and Customs. 12mo. 18s. 8vo. 10s.
By T. Mantell, Esq. F. R. S.
A Series of Historical Portraits, for the
DOMESTIC ECONOMY.
Novels and Tales of the Author of W..
Culinary Chemistry ; exhibiting the verly, No. JI. 12mo. 8s. 8vo. 108. proofs.
Scientific Principles of Cookery; with Con. 14s.
7s.


472
Monthly List of New Publications.
[July,
Juridical Society's Styles, vol. 28 of the the volumes or numbers may be had se.
new edition, containing Moveable Rights. parately.
4to. £2, 2s.
Volume Third of the Protestant may be
A Discourse between a Lover and a had complete, price 9s. boards.
Mourner in Zion. 12mo. 3s. 6d.
This work, which originated in mere
A Catechism for the Instruction and Dic accident, without any plan in the mind of
rection of Young Communicants; by John the Author, will be found to contain a
Colquhoun, D. D. Leith. 9d.
more complete view of the Errors of Po
The Protestant, No. CLVI, which con. pery than any work that has been written
cludes the Third Volume, containing a since the happy Revolution in 1688. The
farther account of the Trial: Slanderous following topics have been discussed at
Language of the Catholic Vindicator ex. length :-Excommunication — Withhold.
posed ; reasons why Papists are incapable ing the Scriptures—No Faith with He.
of holding places of Power and Trust; retics_Idolatry of Worshipping Dead Men
with title page and contents for volume and Women, Dead Men's Bones and Rot-
third. On Saturday next, the 14th July, ten Rags Transubstantiation-Sacrifice of
will commence the fourth volume—to be the Mass_Purgatory-Clerical Celibacy
continued weekly as heretofore. Any of The Inquisition—The Jesuits, &c. &c.
MONTHLY REGISTER.
COMMERCIAL REPORT.-July 10, 1821.
Sugars—The sugar market has for some time past been in a very languid state, and
greatly depressed, which depression seems to continue. The very considerable arrivals
which continue to take place, has augmented the stock on hand considerably beyond what
it was at the same period last year. The demand has of late considerably decreased, which
circumstance has occasioned an anxious desire on the part of the holders to facilitate
sales, and has tended to depress the market 2s. per cent. The buyers evidently
contemplate a still further reduction in price, as they evince no wish to purchase. The
state of the market for refined goods is equally depressed and unsatisfactory. The de-
mand is limited, and the prices have considerably declined. Indeed, the principal pur
chases have been made on account of the exceeding low prices at which the article was
offered, and affords no true criterion of the state of the market.
Coffée.—The demand for Coffee has for some time past been considerable, and con-
sequently the sales, both by public auction and private contract, have been extensive,
and an advance of Is. per cwt. was readily realized for finer qualities. The market
afterwards became more languid, but without any material alteration in price. Planta-
tion Coffee has been more sought after than Foreign.
Cotton.—The Cotton market, from considerable activity, has become more languid,
yet the prices are steady in London, and continue to be supported in Liverpool. The
finer
East India Cottons are in limited request for home consumption ; but the inferior kinds
find a readier sale for exportation. Upon the whole, the Cotton market may be stated
to be steady at our quotations. The prices of Baltic produce have been lately declining
considerably, and were forced into the market at reduced prices. The holders of Talloz,
however, have within these few days evinced less inclination to effect sales; the con-
sequence of which is that the market has become more steady. The price of Flax is
merely nominal. Tar may be quoted at a reduction in price. In Pitch and Rosin
there is little alteration ; and there are no parcels of rough Turpentine at marketOil
The price of Greenland and other fish-oil remains merely nominal, until something
is heard of the state of the fisheries for this season. Linseed is a shade lowered; and
Rape oil may be stated as improved. It is very scarce. The price of Brandy is less
steady than it had previously been. Geneva continues neglected; and the Rum market
is in a most ruinous and depressed state. The stock on hand is nearly doubled, com-
pared with the quantity on hand at the same period last year. Jamaica's, twenty-six
and twenty-seven over proof, have been sold as low as 2s. 2d., and Leeward Island has
been purchased at 1s. 3d., and is expected to sink to 1s. per gallon. At the price of
ls. 3d. per gallon, it must bring the
shipper into debt, even if he get it for nothing in
the Islands ; what then must be condition of the merchant who is forced to take it as a
remittance at the current prices in the islands, of 1s. 6d., exclusive of 40s. for the pun-
cheon, for which latter he obtains nothing in Great Britain ? Scarcely any state can be
considered more deplorable or ruinous.


1821.)
Register.--Commercial Report,
473.
The state of our West India colonies, on which the prosperity of the mother country
so greatly depends, is become of the most distressing nature. Every day tends to add
to their encumbrances and their distresses ; and yet, strange to say, not only is nothing
done to relieve them, but schemes the most inimical to their interests and safety, and at
an enormous and increasing expence to the country, without any benefit, or even the
possibility of a benefit arising from such schemes, are eagerly adopted and prosecuted.
The average price of sugar does not afford the planter a farthing of interest for his ca-
pital employed, and his rum, which he calculated upon as defraying much of his inter-
nal expences, now brings him into debt; or, when sold in the islands, is sold at a price
which, from its ruinous nature to the merchant, compels the latter to make it up, in
some measure, by the enhanced price at which colonial supplies are furnished.
The Revenue for last quarter is considerably decreased, particularly in the Excise ;
but at this we are not surprised, when we consider the numerous frauds which are prac-
tised upon this branch of the revenue, and when we see foreign Rum openly sold at 8s.
per gallon, (3s. 7d. below the duties,) and foreign Geneva at 16s. (3s. below the duties,)
and the like may be said of every article of spirits and wines throughout the United
Kingdom.
6d. to
EDINBURGH.-July 11.
Wheat.
Barley.
ats. Pease & Beans.
Isty.....32s. Od. 1st, .....23s. Od. 1st....... 20s. Od. 1st....... 19s. 6d.
2d, ......30s. Od. 2d, ......21s. Od. 2d,..
...... 18s. Od. | 2d, ...... 18s. Od.
3d,
......28s. Od. 3d, ...... 198. Od. 30,...... 16s. Od. 3d,......16s. Od.
Average of Wheat, £1:11:1d. 7-12ths., per boll.
Tuesday, July 10.
Beef (17) oz. per lb.) Os. 4d. to Os. 70. Quartern Loaf 0s. 9d. to Os. Od
Mutton
Os. 5d. to Os. 7d. New Potatoes (28 lb.) 25.
Os. Od
Veal
Os. 6d. to Os. 9d. Fresh Butter, per lb. 1s. 3d. to Os. Od
Pork
Os. 5d. to Os. 6d. Salt ditto, per stone 17s. Od. to
Os. Od
Lamb, per quarter 2s. Odto 4s. Od. Ditto, per lb.
Is.
1d. to
Is. 2d
Tallow, per stone 8s. 6d. to 9s. Od. Eggs, per dozen 08. 8d. to Os. Od
HADDINGTON.JULY 6.
Wheat.
Barley.
Oats.
Pease.
Beans.
Ist, .32s. Od. Ist, ..... 23s. Od. Ist,. 20s. Od. 1st, .....19s. Od. 1st, .....18s. 6d.
2d........30s. 6d. | 2d......21s. Od. | 2d,...... 18s. Od. 2d, .....17s. Od. | 2d,...... 16s. Od.
3d,...... 29s. Od. 3d,......18s. Od. 3d,......16s. Od. | 3d,......158. Od. 3dg...... 14s. Od.
Average, £l : 10s. Od. 5-12ths.
dverage Prices of Corn in England and Wales, from the Returns received in the Week
ended June 30th.
Wheat, 51s. 60.-Rye, 33s. 5d.-Barley, 23s. 1d.-Oats, 175. 8d.-Beans, 30s. 2d.Pease, 30s. 2d.
Beer or Big, Os. Od.-Oatmeal, 18s. 3d.
O
.
London, Corn Exchange, June 4.
Liverpool, June 5.
S. d. 8. d.)
8. d. 8. d.
Wheat, red, new 36 to 46 Hog peasc . . 27 to 29 Wheat, per 70 lb. Amer. p. 196 lb.
Fine ditto. 48 to 52 Maple . 29 to 32 Eng. Old 8 0 to 8 9 Sweet, U.S.-0 to -
Superfine ditto 53 to 55 White 32 to 36 Foreign
Do. in bond 20 0 to 22 -
Ditto, old.
Ditto, boilers. 40 to 42 Waterford 7 2 to 7 4 Sour do.. 30 O to 32 0
White, new 40 to 46 New ditto, . - to Limerick. 7 2 to 4 Oatmeal, per 240 lb.
Fine ditto 18 to 56 SmallBeans, new30 to 33 Drogheda 7 2 to 7 4 English 25 0 to 26 0
Superfine ditto 60 to 61 Ditto, old.
Dublin 6 10 to 7 0 Scotch ..
20 0 to 24 1
Ditto, old. -to
Tick, new .
.22 to Scotch ..7 9 to 8 3 Irish 20 0 to 23 0
Foreign, new - to Ditto, old. - to Irish Old . 7 2 to ? Bran, p. 24 Ib. 1 0 to 1 0
Rye
27 to 30 Foreign .
to
Bonded 4 0 to 50
Fine ditto,
Butter, Beef, GC.
.- to — Feed oats. 16 to 18||Barley, per 60 lbs.
Barley. 2.) to 22 Fine. . 20 to 22 Eng. 3 9 to 4 0 Butter,p.cwt. s. d.
Fine, new . 23 to 24 Poland ditto . 18 to 21 Scotch . . 3 2 to 3 6 Belfast, new 82 0 to 83 0
Superfine. 24 to 25 Fine.
22 to 23 Irish ..30 to 33 Newry
81 0 to 82 0
Malt • 42 to 52 Potatoe ditto . 22 to 24 Oats, per 15 lb.
Waterford. 77 0 to 790
54 to 56 Fine. 25 to 27 Eng. pota. 2 1 to 2 8 Cork,pic.2d, 85 0 to 86 0
Irish do. 2 9 to 2 10 3d dry 72 0 to - 1
Scotch do. 2 10 to 2 11 Beef, p. tierce.
Seeds, fc.
110 0 to 115 0
Fine
8 0 to 8 6 per brl. 65 0 to 70 0
$. d.
9. Beans, per qr.
Pork, p. brl.
Must. Brown, 7 to 12 6 Hempseed
English.31 0 to 34 0 Mess
58 0 to 60 0
-White 5 to 8 0 Linseed, crush. 48 to 52 Irish .. 31 0 to 33 0 Middl. 54 0 to 55 0
Tares, new,. 36 to 41 o New, for Seed – to Rapeseed, p. 1. £34 to 36 Bacon, p. cwt.
Turnips, bsh. 24 to 32 0 Ryegrass, . 16 to 10 Pease,grey 26 0 to 28 0 Short mids. 43 0 to 44 0
-Red & green - too Clover, red cwt. 54 to 64-White : 38 0 to 14 o Sides 38 0 to 40 0
-Yellow, to-01-White 66 to 108 Flour, English,
Hams, dry, 50 0 to 56 0
Caraway, cwt. 64 to 72 o Coriander .. 8 to 14 p.240lb.fine35 0 to 37 0 Green 33 0 to 35 0
Canary, qr. 42 to 18 o Trefoil . . . . 14 to 28 Irish . . 33 0 to 36 Ol Lard, rd.p.c.19 0 to 500
Rape Seed, per last, £33 to $40.
Fine.
Malt per b.
- Mess
.


474
Register.-Commercial Report.
[July,
LONDON.
58
64
75
81
88
100
225
238 60
110
137
136
147
.
•
Is 10d 3s
30 3
1 4
£20
PRICES CURRENT July 7.
SUGAR, Musc.
LEITH. GLASGOW. LIVERPOOL..
B. P. Dry Brown, · ewt. 57 to 60 56
60 57
59
Mid good, and fine mid. 70
80 60
71 66
67
Fine and very fine,
80
80
68
78
Refined Doub. Loaves, 130 145
Powder ditto,
106
110
Single ditto,
102
106
Small Lumps,
98
Large ditto,
91
91
Crushed Lump,
56
MOLASSES, British, cwt. 23
24 28
COFFEE, Jamaica, . cwt.
Ord. good, and fine ord.
112 120 114
120 108
118
Mid. good, and fine mid. 120
138 121
134 1:0
128
Dutch Triage and very ord.
95
114
Ord. good, and fine ord. 120
135
115
121
Mid. good, and fine mid. 135 140
122
129
St Domingo,
122
126
110
114
Pimento (in Bond,)
81
7)
8
SPIRITS,
Jam. Rum, 16 O. P. gall. 2s 4d 2s 8d 29 2s 2d ls 9d is 11d
Brandy,
3 4 6
Genera,
1 10
0
Grain Whisky,
6.6 6 8
WINES,
Claret, 1st Growths, hhd. 45
55
Portugal Red, pipe. 30
46
Spanish White, butt. 34
55
Teneriffe,
pipe.
50
32
Madeira,
55
65
LOGWOOD, Jam. ton. £7 7 7
10 8
15 8 5
Honduras,
8
8 0 8 10
Campeachy,
8
9 0 9 10
FUSTIC, Jamaica,
8 6 10 70 6 6 7 0
Cuba,
9
11 8 5 8 10 9 0 95
INDIGO, Caraccas fine, Ib. 6s 6d 10s 6d 7 6 8 6 8 0 90
TIMBER, Amer. Pine, foot. 16 18
Ditto Oak,
3 0 3 4
Christiansand (dut. paid.) 2
Honduras Mahogany, 1 4 1 8 1 2 18 0 10 1 1
St Domingo, ditto,
3
1 3 1 6
TAR, American,
bri.
16
Archangel,
18
PITCH, Foreign,
cwt. 10
11
TALLOW, Rus. Yel. Cand. 49
50
52
Home melted,
53
55
HEMP, Riga Rhine,
ion.
Petersburgh, Clean,
39
40
FLAX,
Riga Thies. & Druj. Rak. 55
Dutch,
50
90
Irish,
41
16
MATS, Archangel, 100. 75
80
BRISTLES,
Petersburgh Firsts, cwt. 15 10 14
ASHES, Peters. Pearl,
40
Montreal, ditto,
41
46 43
37
36 35
36
6
OIL, Whale,
tun.
£24
25
Cod.
84s (p. brl.)
21
22
TOBACCO, Virgin. fine, ib.
6
051 08
Middling,
6
5
04 05
Inferior,
COTTONS, Bowed Georg.
0 2 0 3
0 91 11 0 83 0 103
Sea Island, fine,
1 8 20 1 5 18
Good,
164 18 1 2 1 4
Middling,
1 4 1 6 1 2 1
Demerara and Berbice,
1 0 1 2
West India,
0 101 1 1
0 10 0 11 0 9
Pernambuco,
1 1 1 2 1 01 1 1
Maranham,
1 0 1 1
1 og
£60
34
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£6 10 7 0
7 15 8 5
8 10 10 0
6 10 7 0
9 10 0
9 0 11 6
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1
1 10
0 11
1 8
16
16 6
80
£10
36 10
£50
65
13
40
Pot,
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42 6
43
42
22 10
0 601
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0 11
0 101
11 1 13
1 14 1 2
10
ALPHABETICAL List of ENGLISH BANKRUPTCIES, announced between the 20th
of May and the 20th of June, 1821, extracted from the London Gazette.
Airey, J. Liverpool, soap boiler.
Blain, H. and Co. Adam's-court, Broad-street,
Archer, J. Ware Park Mill, Hertford, miller.
merchants.
Atkinson, J. Burton in Kendal, manufacturer. Bliss, N. Water-lane, Fleet-street, bookseller, &c.
Atkinson, T. and Spark, J. Newcastle-upon-Tyne, Broad, W. Bristol, post-master.
linen-drapers.
Bolden, C. J. Duke-street, West Smithfield, paints
Baghott, Sir P. Kt. Lypiatt Park, Gloucestershire,
banker.
Boromar, J, Golthe, Lincolnshire, grazier.
Baker, G. A. Blackman Street, cheesemonger. Broomhead, T. late Sheffield, grocer.
Bass, J. Holbuch, Lincoln, brewer.
Brown, A. J. Portsmouth, grocer.
Battier, J. J. Mincing-lane, broker.
Bumpus, J. Holborn, bookseller.
Bean, B. Hickling, Norfolk, dealer.
Burrows, E. Warsop, Nottingham, miller.
Billingham, J. Uttoxetter, nail manufacturer. Bury, E. and Co. Liverpool, merchants.
er.


1821.]
Register.-Commercial Report.
475
Carberry, R. and Co. St James's-street, hatters. Masters, R. Coventry, tailor.
Carver, J. Lancing, Sussex, farmer.
Middleditch, J. Bury, plumber.
Cheatham, T. Stockport, surgeon.
Munck, W. St Saviour's, Southwark, brandy-mer-
Corry, D. Piercy-street, Bedford-square, dealer in chant.
music.
Nichols, T. Birmingham, dealer and chapman.
Croft, J. Hull, draper.
Nicholson, W. Wakefield, coal-factor.
Cross, R. Bridlington, druggist.
Nicoll, T. Ware, Herts, sack-maker.
Davidson, A. G. Racquet-court, Fleet-street, mer. Park, R. jun. Portsea, coal-merchant.
chant.
Parker, W. Newark-upon-Trent, wireworker.
Dawson, T. Upton, Norfolk, merchant.
Payne, J. Wormwood-street, Bishopgate-street,
Day, T. Blackman-street, stockbroker.
smith.
Deane, J. Accrington, Lancaster, cotton-spinner. Peters, J. and Weston, F. Bristol, maltsters.
Downes, W. Cheadle, Cheshire, calico-printer. Pilling, J. Huddersfield, currier.
Eastwood, J. Liverpool, haberdasher.
Pollock, J. Adam's-court, Broad-street, merchants.
Eddington, J. Lower Thames-street, stationer. Preston, J. Torquay, Devon, merchant.
Edwards, E. L. Cardigan, linen-draper.
Ramsay, T. Mark-lane, wine-merchant.
Etches, J. Bury, Suffolk, haberdasher.
Ravis, N. Gracechurch-street, tin-plate worker.
Fairchild, J. L. late of Thurlby, Lincoln, farmer. Reiley, R. Southampton-row, Bloomsbury, man-
Fletcher, J. P. and B. Eccles, cotton-spinners.
milliner.
Ford, G. S. Great Bush-lane, Cannon-street, wine Renaud, E. Birmingham, whipmaker.
merchant.
Rex, G. Great Driffield, grocer.
Ford, W. Holt, Worcestershire, farmer.
Robinson, S. Huddersfield, hosier.
Foster, W. Liverpool, grocer.
Rowe, H. Amen-corner, bookseller and printer.
Fox, J. Dartmonth, ship-owner.
Rudkin, T. H. Charlotte-street, Islington, malt-
Franklyn, F. Leamington Priors, surgeon.
ster.
Gibbons, J. and Hibbert, R. Great Prescott-street, Savile, J. Limehouse, timber-merchant.
bricklayers.
Sawyer, T. Ramsgate, chemist.
Girdlestone, M. Norwich, baker.
Shaw, J. late of Stratford, Essex, dealer in flour,
Glover, G. Lower East Smithfield, oilman.
and late of Battersea, dealer in oil.
Goff, W. Brighton, linen-draper.
Shoobridge, G. Cheapside, tailor.
Gordon, J. Liverpool, merchant.
Simpson, R. Newcastle upon Tyne, perfumer.
Gorely, T. W. of Dover, felt-maker,
Skinnerley, G. Gorleston, Suffolk, grocer.
Hall, H. and J. Sun Wharf, Upper Thames-street, Smith, J. Frome, Somerset, clothier
iron-merchants.
Stabb, T. Torquay, Devon, merchant.
Hammond, V. Ludlow, wine-merchant.
Stort, J. Batley, York, clothier.
Hancock, W. Bury, cabinet-maker.
Tarleton, J. Liverpool, merchant.
Hardwick, J. Clare-street, Clare-market, butcher. Tidy, M. Southgate, dealer in corn and coals.
Hart, W. B. late of King-street, Cheapside, mer Tinson, T. Elbow-lane, London, merchant.
chant
Tothill, C. Mecklenburgh Square, merchant.
Haynes, S. Liverpool, flour-dealer,
Trollop, H. Reading, linen-draper.
Hayward, T. Cheltenham, builder.
Turton, J. Roll's Buildings, Fetter-lane.
Henley, J. Sols Row, Hampstead-road, rectifier. Waddington, J. Reading, bootmaker.
Holland, S. Bexhill, Sussex, coal-merchant. Ward, J. of Beech, in the parish of Stone, Stafa
Holis, J. P. of St Mary, Newington, oil and co ford, farmer.
lourman.
Warneford, J. York, grocer.
Hopkins, W. Bristol, victualler.
Welburn, s. late of Sculcoates, York, grocer.
Horndall, J. Bristol, haberdasher.
Weston, M. London Wall, livery-stable keeper.
Hughes, J. Cheltenham, wine-merchant.
Wharton, R. E. and Brooks, M. Bridge Road,
Jackson, J. Halifax, shoemaker.
Vauxhall, plumbers.
Jacobs, J. Bristol, glass-manufacturer.
Wheatley, H. Coventry, silk-dyer.
Jenks, F. Bromyard, Hereford, tanner.
White, H. Gracechurch-street, merchant.
Jones, J. Mount-street, Lambeth, and Jones, J. Wight, S. and Co. Leadenhall-street, hat manu-
H. of the Kent Road, linen-drapers and part facturers.
ners.
Williams, J. P. Lambeth Road, slater.
Jones, F. Redcliff-hill, Bristol, mason.
Woffender, T. and Elliott, W. New Malton, corn-
Irving, J. jun. Carlisle, grocer.
factors.
Kay, T. Prince's-square, Ratcliff Highway, coal Wood, P. Kingston, Surrey, gardener.
merchant.
Woodhead, M. late of Líversedge, York, mer.
Kirkman, C. F. Deal, linen-draper.
chant.
Kent, W. Bridlington-street, ironmonger. Woolrich, G. and J. Spital-square, silk-manufac-
Lowes, J. Angel-court, Throgmorton, bill-broker. turers.
MacCorquodale, H. of Liverpool, merchant. Wroots, R. late of Sleaford, linen-draper.
Manson, D. Throgmorton-street, merchant. Youden, S. Dover, carpenter.
Mason, J. Manchester, hat-manufacturer.
Young, W. Brading, Isle of Wight, farmer.
Mason, E. Worcester, tea-dealer, and Penn, J.
Dale End, in Birmingham, soap-boiler.
ALPHABETICAL List of Scotch BANKRUPTCIES, announced between the 1st and
31st May, 1821, extracted from the Edinburgh Gazette.
Cochran, Archibald, of Ashkirk, some time mer Dick, James, bookseller, Edinburgh; a dividend
chant in Fisher-row.
of 6d. per pound 30th July.
Harley, Duncan Forbes, vinegar and fire-brick Gillies, Colin, merchant, Brechin; a dividend of
manufacturer, Tradestown, Glasgow.
Is. 6d. per pound 14th August.
Honeyman, Thomas, mill-master and meal-seller, Graham, Alexander, and Co. merchants in Glas-
Dairsie Mills.
gow; a dividend 17th July.
Macfarlane, Robert, and Co. merchants and agents, Henderson, Thomas, merchant, Anstruther; a
Glasgow.
2d dividend 6th August.
Steel, Robert, toll-keeper, spirit-dealer, and vic. Lamb, Kerr, and Co. merchants, Glasgow; and
tualler, Tradestown, Glasgow.
Kerr, Lamb, and Co. merchants, Gibraltar ; a
Tod, Robert, ship-broker and merchant, Glasgow. dividend of 58. per pound 20th July.
Walker, James, grocer, spirit-dealer, and grain- Lang and Cochrane, haberdashers, Glasgow ; a
dealer, Lochwinnoch.
final dividend 30th June.
Weatherley, John Blair, merchant, Jedburgh. Macduff, Peter, late tanner, Edinburgh; a first
DIVIDENDS.
and final dividend 11th July.
Brown, William, late of Longbedholm, cattle Miller, James, merchant, Glasgow; a dividend on
dealer; a 2d dividend 30th June.
25th July.
Buchanan, P. G. late bookseller, Edinbur Richardson, James, late cattle-dealer and tanner,
dividend 5th July.
Auchtermuchty i a second dividend 230 July,


476
Register Commercial Report.
(July,
Ritchie, Wm. merchant, Edinburgh; a dividend Watt, James, merchant, Kelso; a dividend after
of 4s. per pound after 6th July.
11th July.
Taylor, Henry, merchant, Irvine, a dividend Whyte, Alexander, formerly andle-maker and
23d July.
merchant, Dundee ; a dividend 27th July.
Thom, James, marble-cutter or manufacturer, Wright, Francis, jeweller, Edinburgh; a dividend
and buyer and seller of marble, Glasgow; a di of ls. per pound, after 4th August.
vidend after 20th July.
Weekly Price of Stocks, from 1st to 22d June, 1821.
Ist.
8th. 15th.
22.
45 pr.
52 pr.
4 PT.
52 pr.
2 pr.
50 pr.
3 pr.
Bank stock.com
2331 200
229
3 per cent. reduced,
764 754 763
758 | 763
3 per cent. consols,
774 68
34 per cent. consols.com
863
86]
875 86}
4 per cent. consols,wamo
95
945 94
945
5 per cent. navy ann....
1101
1104
111
Imperial 3 per cent. ann..
751 75
734
751
India stock,
2384
bonds,
Exchequer bills,
3 pr.
Consols for acc.
781 771 774
Amer. 3 per cent.
711 71
704 701
French 5 per cents....
86fr. 87fr. 30 85fr. 75c.
Course of Exchange, July 10.-Amsterdam, 12: 18. C. F. Ditto at sight, 12 : 15.
Rotterdam, 12: 19. Antwerp, 12: 12. Hamburgh, 38: 10. Altona, 38 : 11. Paris, 3
d. sight, 25 : 85. Ditto 26 : 20. Bourdeaux, 26 : 20. Frankfort on the Maine, 159.
Petersburgh, perrble. 81: 3 Us. Vienna, 10:28 Eff. flo. Trieste, 10:28 Eff.fo. Madrid,
36. Cauliz, 35%. Bilboa, 354. Barcelona, 35. Seville, 354. Gibraltar, 303. Leghorn,
47. Genoa, 431. Venice, 27 : 60. Malta, 45. Naples, 39. Palermo, 116. Lis-
bon, 50. Oporto, 50. Rio Janeiro, 49. Bahia, 59. Dublin, 95 per cent.
Cork, 9 per cent.
Prices of Gold and Silver, per oz.-Foreign gold, in bars, £3: 17 : 104d. New
Dollars, 4s. 9fd. Silver in bars, stand. 4s. 102d.
METEOROLOGICAL TABLE, extracted from the Register kept at Edinburgh, in the
Observatory, Calton-hill.
N.B.—The Observations are made twice every day, at nine o'clock, forenoon, and four o'clock, after-
noon.--The second Observation in the afternoon, in the first column, is taken by the Register
Thermometer
Attach.
Ther. Barom. Ther. Wind.
Attach
Ther. Barom. Ther. Wind.
June 16{ A. 58
17{A.52
18{
19{ A.53 29.995 A. 61
20
3{
{
5{
6{
7
8
w.
21 M.554
22
23 S M.35
June 1
M.363 29.958 M.54
Sunsh. but
M.40 30.152 M.63
E.
Warm, with
A. 52
E.
.932 A. 53 ) cold.
.195 A. 59
sunshine,
M.34 .915 M.54
M.39
Ditto, and
.232 M.58
E.
2A. 50
E. Ditto.
.920/A. 54 ) warm.
.250 A. 63
M.32)
.898 M.56
Ditto, but
M.35 .297 M.63
E.
A. 49
E.
Ditto.
.645 A. 56) cold.
A. 57 ,235 A. 60)
M.42 .543 M.57
Ditto, cold
M.35 ,192 M.59
A. 49
Ditto.
E.
.682 A. 52
morn.
M.37 ,525 M.52
Dull morn.
.980 M.60
M.355
Cble.
Dull foren.
A. 47
A. 54
rainy day.
A. 55 .905 A. 59
warm aftern.
M.352 .485 M.571
Fair, with
.943 M.58
A. 52 .460 A 55
sunshine.
Ditto.
A. 53 .965|A. 55
SM.38
.512 M.51
Sun foren.
M.35 .976 M.58
Cble. Ditto.
A. 52
.515 A, 54 )
dull aftern.
A. 55
.981 A. 55
M.32 .626 M.52
Dull, cold,
.993 M.60
N.E.
A. 47
Cold foren.
.579 A. 52) with hail.
cble.
A. 53
.999 A. 59
warm after
.418 M.53
Dull day,
Chle.
M.35 30.103 M.62
A. 49 175 A. 51
with hail.
A. 53
.103 A. 56
Dull day
M.34) .521 M.53
Fair, with
M.46
..131 M.51)
E.
A. 48
Dull foren.
.795 A. 50
sunshine.
A. 56
.116A. 58) clear aftern.
11
M.36 .950 M.50
Ditto.
M.37 29.999 M.57
N.
Dull mort
A. 45 .998 A, 50 S
E.
A. 52 .9924.59 elear day.
12
M.35 30.157 M.53
Cble. Ditto.
M.39
.992M.60 E.
A. 50 29.997 A, 53
27
A. 53
.999 A. 61
Sunsh. day.
M.375
13
M.58
Warm, with
.999 M.631
Cble.
M.37
A. 54
28
.999 A. 56
Warm, with
sunshine.
A. 58 .952 A. 58
E.
sunshine
M.37 30.158 M.56
Dull foren.
M.38
Cble.
.976 M.52
A. 54 .125 A. 62
sun aftern.
A. 57
Ditto.
15
M.40 .162 M.64
Warm, with
776 M.62
sunshine.
A. 54 .554A. 59 Cble. (Ditto.
Average of Rain, .608 inches.
9{M.301
24 /
25
10{
{
26
14{
.811A. 61 E.
A. 58
30 M.121
.101 A. 61}E
8


1821.]
477
Appointments, Promotions, &c.
May 31
p. 7 F.
APPOINTMENTS, PROMOTIONS, &c.
Brevet Capt. W. B. Hulme, 1 F. to be Major 79 Surg. Peacocke, from 3 Vet. Bn. Surg.
in the Army
Dec. 23, 1817
vice Miller, h. p.
May 24
7 Dr. G. Paym. Perry, from h. p. 23 Dr. Paym. 91 As. Surg. O'Donel, from 1 Vet. Bn. As.
vice Jennings, h. p. June 21, 1821
Surg. vice M'Lachlan, h. p. 4 Vet.
Dr. Capt. Walton, Major by purch, vice Lt.
Bn.
June 7
Col. Hugonin, ret.
May 31
Colon. c. 2d Lieut. J. A. Campbell, from h. p.
Lieut. Kirby, Capt. by purch.
do.
at the
Bourbon R. 20 Lt. vice C. Gamp
Cornet Grant, Lieut. by purch. do. Mauritius bell
May 17
C. Agnew, Cornet, by purch. do. 2 Ceyl R. Capt. Goldicutt, from h. p. 60 F. Capt.
18 Lieut. Sneyd, from 8 Dr. Lieut. vice
více Kitson, 44 F.
June 1
Gibbs, h. p. 8 Dr. rec. diff. June 14
Coldst. G. Ens. and Lieut. Murray, from h.
Miscellaneous.
P.
Ens. and Lieut. vice Douglas, dead
Col. J. P. Lloyd, late of the 10 F. Gor.
of Fishguard, (without pay! vice
OF. Ens. Lyster, Lieut. vice Jenkins, Qua,
Vaughan, dead
May 31, 1821
Mast.
June 14
Sir John Owen, Bt. M. P. Gov. of Mil-
.. R. Crawford, Ens.
do.
ford Haven, (without pay) vice Lord
Lieut. Jenkins, Qua. Mast. vice Jones,
Cawdor, dead
June 13
dead
do.
Major Bowles, Coldst. Gds. Dep. Adj.
Hon. C. D. Blayney, Ens. vice Gamble,
Gen. Jamaica, with the Rank of Lt.
dead
do. 7
Col. vice Freemantle, res. do. 24
5 Ens. Fry, Lieut. vice Johnson, dead
R.J. Macdonald, from h. p. Apothecary
do.
to the Forces
April 26
C. Coote, Ens.
do.
Exchanges.
6 Lieut. Crawford, Capt. by purch. vice
Lieut. Col. Meyrick, from 47 F. with Lieut. Col.
Lodder, ret.
May 17
Cotton, 3 F. G.
Ens. Griffiths, Lieut. by purch. do.
Bt. Lt. Col. Leggatt, from 36 F. with Major
and Adj. Downie, rank of Lieut.
do. 18
Browne, h. p. 101 F.
H. Foley, Ens.
do. 17
Capt. Gamble, from 2 Dr. G. with Capt. Paget,
90 F.
Ens. Peek,
Lieut. vice Cameron,
dead
Maebean, from 6 P. with Capt. Kirwan, he
do. 24
Moore, from h. p. Ens. do.
33
Lieut. Pode, Capt. by purch. vice Gore,
Fraser, from 8 F. with Capt. Moriarty, h.
ret.
p. 71 F.
do. 17
Ens. Lowe, Lieut.
do.
Gregory, from 16 F. with Capt. Trydell, 2
Ceylon Regt.
Gent. Cadet
. J. Paterson, from R. Mil.
Boyle, from 42 F. with Capt. Ross, h.p.
Coll. Ens.
do.
7 F.
Ens, Gibson, from h. p. 57 F. vice Pi-
W. Madden, from 92 F. with M. Madden,
gott, 39 F.
June 14
37
h. p. 100 F.
Home A, C, J. Browne, Ens, vice Tay-
Carroll, from Ing. of Mil. in Ion. Isls. with
lor, dead
do.
Capt. Macphail, h. p.
Ens. Pigott, from 33 F. Ens. vice Bal-
Lieut. Quillinan, from 3 Dr. G. rec. diff. with Lt.
four, h. p. 57 F.
do.
Rolland, h. p. 22 Dr.
43
Estcourt, from 41 F. Ens. vice
Foster, from 14 Dr. with Lt. Vandeleur,
Sharpe, h. p. 1 Vet. Bat. do. 7
18 Dr.
Bt. Major Guthrie, Major by purch.
vice Lieut. Col. Gregory, ret.
Pattison, from 33 F. rec. diff. with Lt. Mac-
May 31
kay, h. p. 6 F.
Lieut. O'Neill, Capt. by purch.
Jeboult, from 41 P. rec. diff. with Lt. Craw.
do.
ford, h. p. Rifle Br.
Capt. Kitson, from 2 Ceyl. R. Capt.
Gardiner, from 41 F. rec. diff. with Lt. Sim.
vice Bt. Major Jessop, h. p. 60 F.
June 1
mons, h. p. Rifle Br.
Ens. Wilson, Lieut. by purch. May 31
Moore, from 45 F. with Lt. Irwin, h. p.
83 F.
H. D. Carr, Ens. by purch. do.
Douglas, from 45 F. with Lt. Minter, h.p.
Ens. Shaw, from 60 F. Ens. vice Est-
73 F.
court, 13 F.
June 7
Lieut. Fennell, from 58 F. Lieut. Ro-
Winterbottom, from 52 F. with Lt. Snod-
binson, cancelled
May 17
grass, h. p.
Serj. Maj. Brew, Qua. Mast. vice Har-
M'Iver, from 70 F. rec. diff. with Lt. Thorp,
h. p. 77 F.
do.
51
Green, from 85 F. rec. dift. with Lieut.
Bi. Maj. Campbell, Major by purch.
Monckton, h. p. 22 Dr.
vice Thwaites, ret.
do.
Lieut. Flamanck, Capt. by purch. do.
Cornet De Lisle, from 4 Dr. G. with Cornet Fagg,
19 Dr.
Ens. Hamilton, Lieut. by purch. do.
J. Murray, Ens. by purch. do.
Bulkley, from 7 Dr. G. with Cornet Green-
52
land, 1 Dr.
Lieut. Mouins, Adj. vice Winterbot.
do.
tom, res.
Ensign Bayly, from 19 F. with Ensign Cheney,
20 F.
Cosby, from 77 F. Lieut. vice
Macdonnell, from 35 F. with Ensign Mor-
Smith, h. P. Rifle Brig. do. 24
tashed, h. p. 32 F.
Winterbottom, from h. p. Paym.
vice Clarke, cashiered do. 31
Whitney, from 62 F. rec. diff. with Ensign
Jones, h. p. 43 F.
Bristow, from h. p. 68 F. Lieut.
Paym. Moulson, from 35 F. with Capt. Newton,
vice Fennel, 48 F.
do. 17
60
Ens. Gilchrist, from 1 Vet. Bn. Ens.
h. p. 4 W. I. R.
Surg. Fisher, from 6 F. with Surg. Harrison, h. p.
vice Shaw, 44 F.
June 7
70
104 F.
Lieut. Landon, Capt. vice Bt. Major
Howard, dead
May 31 Resignations and Retirements.
Ens. Gaston, Lieut.
do, Lieut. Col. Hugonin, 4 Dr.
K. A. Mack zie, Ens.
do.
77
Gregory, 14 F.
Lieut. Douglas, from h. p. Rifle Brig.
M'Bean, 78 F.
78
vice Cosby, 52 F.
do. 24 Major Thwaites, 51 F.
Capt. Bethune, Major by purch. vice Capt. Lodder, 6 F.
Bt. Lt. Col. Macbean, ret. June 14
Gore, 33 F.
Lieut. Pennycuiek, Capt. by purch. Paym. Lacy, Shropshire Mil.
do. Adj. Capt. Bennett, King's Co. Mil.
Ens. Sinclair, Lieut. by purch. do.
Capt. Goodwin, Sligo Mil
J. Morritt, Ens. by purch.
do. Butler, Wicklow Mil.
pur, dead


478
Appointments, Promotions, 8c.
[July,
May 2
Appointment Cancelled.
Lieut. Magee, Invalids, Walworth, May 13, 1820
Lieut. Robison, 48 F.
- Coghlan, h. p. 36 F. London, June, 20, 1821
Carr, h. 55 F. France, Oct. 20, 1820
Deaths.
Stretch, h. p. 67 F. Limerick, May 24, 1821
Col. Graham, h. p. Cape Corps.
Gordon, h. p. 100 F. Aberdeen, Feb. 14
Lieut. Col. Campbell 2 Vet. Bn. Dublin,
Ensign Taylor, 37 F. Quebec, Apr. 14, 1821
19 June, 1821 Paym. Patrickson, h. p. 4 Dr.
Paumier, h. p. 108 F.
D. Campbell, Argyll Mil.
Major Johnson, 35 F. Antigua,
Macklin, Tyrone Mil.
Bennett, Roy. Eng. Portsmouth, June 18 Adj. Lieut. Ferrall,'h. p. Rifle Brig. previously of
Capt. M'Pherson, late Insp. Gen. of Barracks in 11 F.
North Brit. Edinburgh,
Oct. 1, 1820 - Ens. Packer, h. p. 60 F. Sept. 23, 1820
Browne, Invalids, Pinchbeck, near Spal Quarter-Mas. Jones, 2 F. on passage from Deme-
ding,
June 2, 1821 rara to Barbadoes,
Apr. 15, 182
Hadden, h. p. 20 Dr. previously of 6 Dr.
Wood, h. p. 9 Dr. Westport, Ireland,
London.
Oct. 31, 1820
Gitterick, h. p. Staff Corps of Cav. Sligo,
Orr, h. p. Mid Lothian Fen. Cav.
May 8 Leith,
May 17, 1821
Considine; h. p. 60 F. previously of 13 Dr.
Brilland, Waterford Mil.
Gordon, h. p. 6 W. I. R. Aberdeen, May 16 Surg. Edm. Taylor, Windsor Castle, Apr. 18, 1821
Lieut. Douglas, Coldst. Gds.
May 29
Pritchard, Anglesea Mil.
Marriot, 67 F. of wounds received at the Purveyor Turnbull, h. p. Mid Calder, North Bri-
escalade of the fort of Dwarka in the province tain,
Feb. 6, 1821
of Oka Mundel,
Nov. 25, 1820 Hospital Assist. Bingham, h. p. May 31, 1821
- Cameron, 11 F. Plymouth Dock,
Cocco, h. p. Messina, Aug. 1820
May 16, 1821
BIRTHS, MARRIAGES, AND DEATHS.
21. At South Castle Street, the lady of G. Mac-
BIRTHS.
pherson Grant, Esq. of Ballindalloch and Inver-
shie, M. P. of a daughter.
Oct. 11, 1829. At Barrackpore, the lady of Lt.
Lady Dunbar of Boath, of a son.
Anderson, paymaster of the native pensioners at
Allahabad, of a daughter.
22. At Paris, Lady Buchan, of a son.
May 23, 1821. At Aix, the lady of James Skene,
23. At York, the lady of Lieutenant-Colonel
Esq: of Rubislaw, of a daughter.
Gordon, of the 5th dragoon guards, of a son.
35. At Boyle, Mrs Colonel Farquharson, of a
- At Bonjedward-house, Mrs Jerdon of a son.
daughter.
Mrs Auld, Argyll Square, of a daughter.
24. At Deal, the lady of Captain M"Culloch,
27. At Kirkcaldy, Mrs Archibald
Dow, of a son.
June 1. At 25, Hill Street, Mrs Bell, of a son.
R. N. of a daughter.
- At Chesterhall, Mrs Gray, of a son.
28. At his house in Marlborough Square,
Mrs Ramsay, 14, Hanover Street, of a son.
Brompton, the lady of Thomas Mackenzie, Esq.
of a son.
2. At Camberwell, Surrey, Mrs Dudgeon, of a
daughter.
Lately-At Paris, the lady of Earl Poulett, of a
3. At Maitland Street, Mrs Fordyce of Aytoun,
son.
of a daughter.
MARRIAGES.
- At the Manse of Kinghorn, Mrs Paterson,
of a daughter.
Oct. 30, 1820. At Calcutta, John Low, Esq.
- At his house in the Canongate, the lady of merchant, to Frances, daughter of Mr Robert
Henry Prager, Esq. of a daughter.
Low, Dundee Bank.
4. Át Shandwick Place, Mrs Miller of Glenlee, Feb. 27, 1821. At Dacca, Bengal, Alexander
of a son.
Maclean, Esq. son of A. Maclean, Esq. of Ard-
5. At Maize Hill, Greenwich, the lady of Cap gour, and nephew to the Earl of Hopetoun and
tain Forbes Macbean, Royal Artillery, of a son. the late Countess Melville, to Elizabeth Margaret,
7. At Crossmount, the lady of Capt. Stewart, eldest daughter of Richard Owen Wynne, Esq.
of a son and heir.
Chief Judge of Dacca.
8. At Edinburgh, Mrs Lockhart of Castlehill, May 30. Captain James Murray, of his Majes-
of a son.
ty's ship Valorous, to Rachel, daughter of Ben-
- At Ballinaby, Mrs Campbell, of a son. jamin Tucker, Esq. Surveyor-general of the Duchy,
10. At Callander, Mrs Macgregor of Glengyle,
of Cornwall.
of a son.
- At Barking, John Campbell, Esq. to Louisa,
Mrs Ivory, Prince's Street, of a son. daughter of John Shuttleworth, Esq. of Aldbo
- At Dunmore, Mrs Campbell of Dunmore, rough Hall, Ilford, Essex.
of a daughter.
June 4. At Edinburgh, Mr Charles Spence, So-
· 12. Ai Norton, Mrs Pearson of Myrecairnie, of licitor in the Courts of Session and Adoniralty, to
a daughter.
Isabella, daughter of the late Mr Joseph Mordue
13. The Right Hon. Mrs Thomas Erskine, of of Wallsend.
a daughter, who did not long survive.
- At Swinton Hill, Edward Russel Bell, Esq.
- Mrs William Wyld, Cassels' Place, Leith sugar-refiner in Glasgow, to Sarah, second daughi.
Walk, of a son.
ter of William Bell, Esq. Swinton Hill.
• 14. At Leith, Mrs James Smith, Yardheads, of 5. At Hawthorn Bråe, Wester Duddingston,
a son.
Thomas M. Foggo, M. D. late surgeon of the
- At Sundrum, Mrs Hamilton of Sundrum, royal artillery, to Anne, eldest daughter of James
of a son.
Scott, Esq. merchant in Leith.
The lady of James Cathcart, Esq. of a son. 8. At Edinburgh, Mr Thomas Richardson, up-
At Kindeace-house, the lady of Charles Ro holsterer, to Helen, only daughter of the late Mr
bertson, Esq. of a son.
James Anderson, surgeon, Scots Brigade.
- Mrs Gordon, 22, Buccleuch Place, of a son. 10. At Marlingden, near Brechin, the Rev. Ro-
16. At Stockbridge, Edinburgh, Mrs Parker, of bert Smith of Dreghorn, to Mary, daughter of
a daughter
Thomas Molleston, Esq. late Provost of Brechin.
17. At Little Mill, the lady of Colonel Renny, 11. At Edinburgh, Dr William Cumin, physi-
late of the 15th foot, of a daughter.
cian, Glasgow, to Ann Johnston, youngest daugh-
18. Mrs Bethune of Blebo, of a daughter. ter of the deceased William Ker, Esq. of Kerfield.
19. At Edinburgh, Mrs Burn Murdoch of Gar 12. At 22, Dublin Street, Robert Montgomery,
tincaber, of a sori.
Esq. of Craighouse, to Jane, eldest daughter of
20. At London, the lady of Major Younghus- the late John Haldane, Esq.
band, royal regiment of artillery, of a son.
13. At Kilmichael, Inverlussa, Mr James Reid.
- At Manar, Mrs Gordon, of a daughter. of the Exchequer, to Miss Elizabeth Campbell,
21. At Edinburgh, Mrs Robertson, 75, Great second daughter of the Rev. Dugald Campbell of
King Strect, of a daughter.
Auchnellan.


1821.]
Register.-Marriages and Deaths.
479
the spot.
14. At London, Lieutenant-Colonel Bell, De 29. At his lodgings in Portsmouth, Lord Fran-
puty Quartermaster-general at the Cape of Good cis Thynne, late midshipman of his Majesty's ship
Hope, to Lady Catherine Harris, daughter of the Rochefort, son of the Marquis of Bath.
Late Earl of Malmesbury.
- Mr Stothard, son of T. Stothard, Esq. R. A.
- At Walsale, J. S. Brown, Esq. merchant, and brother of Mr H. Stothard. This gentleman,
Edinburgh, to Maria, youngest daughter of the well known as an artist of considerable talent, was
late John Badger, Esq. Laymore-house, Stafford killed by a fall from a ladder, upon which he was
shire.
standing, while copying a window in the church
- At Edinburgh, Mr Joseph Gibson, merchant of Beerferris in Devon. Although not more than
in Leith, to Wilhelmina, daughter of the Rev. ten feet from the ground, yet, being precipitated
William Innes, Edinburgh.
on his head, he fractured his skull and expired on
18. At Inchree, Major Hugh Stewart, 75th re-
giment, to Ann, second daughter of the Rev. Mr 31. At Edinburgh, Mr James Wood Raney,
M Coll.
aged 24.
- At Leith, Mr Andrew Graham, merchant, At Castle Street, Edinburgh, Elizabeth, the
Hawick, to Christian, youngest daughter of the youngest child of Mr Michael Anderson, solicitor.
late Mr John Nixon, manufacturer there.
June 1. At Cherrybank, near Newhaven, Mrs
19. At Berwick, William Waring Hay, Esq. Elspeth Simpson, spouse of Alexander Mitchell,
w.s. to Miss Jane Francis Gregson of Blackburn. Esq.
- At Peebles, the Rev. Benjamin Mardon, - At No. 4, Antigua Street, Edinburgh, Miss
M. A, minister of Union Chapel, Glasgow, to Iss Helen Cunningham.
bella, daughter of Mr Cairns, writer.
- At Newington, Edinburgh, Mrs Janet Dick-
- At the Manse of Ardhill, Alexander Allan son, wife of the Reverend Dr M.Crie.
Mackenzie, Esq. to Charlotte, daughter of the late - Mary, daughter of the late — Mills, Esq. of
Rev. Dr Alexander Downie, minister of Lochalsh. Ripley, Yorkshire, and the bride of Mr J. House
- At Burgh Lodge, Thomas Gifford, Esq. late man, of Clint, to whom she had been married the
of the Honourable East India Company's service, preceding Tuesday, when she was given away by
to Jessie, only daughter of the late John Scott, Sir Wm. Ingilby, the present High Sheriff. Im-
Esq. of Milbie.
mediately after the ceremony the bride and bride-
20. At Seton, Mr Charles M'Laren, merchant, groom set off with a party of friends to York. On
Edinburgh, to Margaret, second daughter of Mr their arrival the unfortunate lady was attacked by
Charles Burnet.
apoplexy, which terminated her life.
26. At Montrose, Captain William Hunter, of 2. Miss Eliza Cameron, aged 25, daughter of
the Honourable East India Company's naval ser Mr Robert Cameron, Springfield paper-mill.
vice, to Miss Knox, eldest daughter of Andrew - At Glasgow, Mr John Cross, teacher of ma-
Knox, Esq.
thematics, superintendant of the Glasgow Obser.
29. At Edinburgh, Mr John Wilson, teacher of vatory, and member of the London Astronomical
music, to Miss Mary Veitch.
Society, &c. His eminence as a mathematician
was universally known, and his loss will be deeply
regretted by the lovers of science,
DEATHS.
4. At Penzance, Cornwall, Miss Agnes Colqu-
houn, eldest daughter of the Lord Clerk Register.
Nov. 7, 1820. At Madras, aged 42, Lieutenant At Stafford Street, Edinburgh, Henrietta,
Colonel Sutherland M‘Douall, youngest son of the wife of Robert Boog, Esq.
late John M.Douall, Esq. brother of the late Earl - At his house, No. 8, Broughton Place, Edin-
of Dumfries, of the Honourable East India Com- burgh, Jaries Jackson, Esq. one of the Honourable
pany's native infantry, on the Madras establish Commissioners of Excise for Scotland.
mnent, and British Resident at the court of Tra - After a few days illness, in Edward Street,
vancore.
Portman Square, London, Sir George Douglas,
30. At Bombay, Joseph William Cumine, Esq. Bart. of Springwood Park, Roxburghshire, which
of the Honourable East India Company's medical county he had formerly represented in several suc-
service, second son of Archibald Cumine, Esq. of cessive Parliaments.
Auehry.
5. At her son's house, North James's Street,
Feb. 7, 1821. At Colombo, Alexander Cadell, Edinburgh, Mrs Margaret Knox Beveridge, relict
Esq. paymaster-general of Ceylon.
of Mr James Beveridge, writer in Dunfermline, in
24. At Rio de Janeiro, Captain William Pear-
her 83d year.
son, of the ship Cheerful of Kirkaldy.
- At Leith, in child-bed, Mrs Jane Kisbue.
March 17. At Wynberg, Cape of Good Hope, At Inglismaldie, the Honourable Alexander
Colonel John Graham of Fintry, late of the Cape
Keith, son of the late Earl of Kintore.
regiment, commandant of Simon's Town.
- At Beverley Lodge, near Colchester, Lachlan
April 6. At Fellowshiphall, in St David's, Ja Robert Mackintosh, Esq. of Dalmunzie, Perth-
maica, Margaret Darby, a free black woman, at shire.
the advanced age of 130 years. She retained all At Edinburgh, Mary Jane, second daughter
her faculties till the last moment.
of the late Alexander Fergusson, Esq. of Baled-
May 23. At Winster, Mr Wm. Cuddie, surgeon.
mund.
This unfortunate gentleman's death was occasion Aged nine years and one month, Ann Eliza,
ed by a wound received the preceding day in a eldest daughter of Mr John Lavigny, Luggate, East
duel, which, it appears, he was induced to fight Lothian,
with Mr W. Brittlebank, of the same place. The 6. At Edinburgh, aged 18, Richard Archibald
Corner's Jury returned a verdict of wiiful murder Houison, eighth son of the late Reverend Alexan-
against all the parties concerned, three of whom der Huison, of Auchtergaven.
are now confined in Derby gaol; but Mr Brittle 7. At Alloa, James Laurie, Esq.
bank, the principal, has absconded.
- At the residence of the Earl of Mexborough,
- 25, At Dundee, Miss Christian Sandieman ; 'in Picadilly, London, after a few hours illness, the
and, on 26th May, Mrs Elizabeth Sandieman, Countess of Mexborough.
relict of David Ramsay, merchant in Dundee ; 8. Mrs Cuninghame, relict of the deceased John
both daughters of the late David Sandieman, Cuninghame, Esq. of Port-Glasgow.
also merchant in Dundee,--the former aged se - At Banks of 'Troqueer, Robert Halliday, Esq.
Fenty-four, the latter seventy-six years.
of Banks, aged 68.
- At Edinburgh, aged 76, Mr George Edmon 10. At St Andrews, aged 19, Mr James Jarvis,
stone, ordained measurer, for many years a re-
student of divinity.
spectable cabinetmaker in Kelso.
- At Southgate, Middlesex, Charles Pasley,
- Suddenly, in a fit of apoplexy, John Camp- Esq. late major in the Honourable East India Com-
bell, Esq. of Conduit Vale, Blackheath.
pany's service, and Charge d'Affaires at the Court
At Dunfermline, Dr Stenhouse of Comely of Persia.
Park.
- At West Wemyss, Fifeshire, Robert Fenning
26. At Park, Robert Govane, Esq. of Drum Barker, Esq. of Nanwich.
quhassie, aged 72.
11. Al his father's house, No. 20, George Street,
- At Whitehouse, Isle of Man, Daniel M'Queen, Edinburgh, Charles Hope Stewart, in the 16th
Esq. of Netherwoodbank, late Collector of Cess year of his age.
for the City of Edinburgh.
12. At Glasgow, Thomas Arnot, Esq.
VOL. IX.
30


480
Register.-Deaths.
[July.
Esq.
12. At Fife House, London, the Right Hon. the He carried straw to the King's troops on Doncas-
Countess of Liverpool.
ter Moor during the rebellion of 1715. He beheld
- At London, Frances, the wife of Sir Jenison as his descendants, 13 children, 75 grandchildren,
William Gordon, Bart.
8) great-grandchildren ; in all 168. The united
- At Kirkcaldy, in the prime of life, James ages of three old persons who attended his funeral,
Swayne, Esq. writer there, and agent for the Fife amounted to 210.
Banking Company.
22. In North Richmond Street, Mr James Cun-
- A:
Dunfermline, Mrs Ann Gel, aged 93, the ningham, merchant, Edinburgh.
last of the ancient family of Ged of Ged and Bald - At Edinburgh, after a long illness, Rachel,
ridge, and relict of Mr John Buntine.
daughter of the Reverend David Jardine, agad 11
– Miss Elizabeth Peat, third daughter of Mr years,
John Peat, writer, Forth Street, Edinburgh. 23. At Paris, the Duchess Dowager of Orleans.
15. At Ivy Lodge, Alexander Dalyell, Esq. aged She was the daughter of the virtuous Duke de
36.
Penthievre and Maria Therese Felicite D'Est, and
- At No. 2, North St David's Street, Edin great-great-grand-daughter of Louis XIV.
burgh, Jessie, the infant daughter of Dr William - At St Stephen's, near Plymouth, Capt. Tho-
Campbell.
mas Gordon Caulfield, R. N. and of the Windsor
14. At Edinburgh, Mr William Frier, wool Castle, in that harbour
merchant, West Bow.
25. At Springhill, Douglas James Hamilton,
- Mr Myles Macphail, vintner, Edinburgh.
At Brussels, the Ex-Conventionalist Quirette. At Dalmellington, Mr John Watt, aged 86,
He was one of the four Deputies, who, with the and for upwards of seventy years a public per.
Minister at War, Bournonville, went, on the 3d former on the violin. His wife and he lived to
April, 1793, to the head-quarters of General Du- gether in unison for sixty years.
mourier to arrest that General, and to take him to At Edinburgh, Elizabeth, eldest daughter of
Paris to be tried; but were themselves arrested, John Sandilands, Esq.
and delivered by Dumourier to the Austrian Ge At Edinburgh, Miss Jenny Broughton, aged
neral Clairfait, and were kept in prison in Ger 19, eldest daughter of Mr Charles Broughton, W.
many two years and a hall, until they were ex. S. Elder Street.
changed for the Duchess of Angouleme in 1796. - At Edinburgh, Mrs Margaret Graham, rehet
15. At his father's house, Meet-hill, Mr Stuart of Alexander Bower, Esq. of Kincaldrum, aged
Hay, student in theology, aged on youngest son 83.
of the Reverend James Hay,
of Alyth.
26. At Edinburgh, Miss Jean M Queen, daugh.
- At Law of Newton, Mr David Mitchell, ter of the late George M'Queen, Esq. Collector of
farmer.
Cess of the City of Edinburgh.
16. At his house, Nn. 10, St John Street, Edin 27. At Arbroath, Mrs Colvill, widow of John
burgh, Mr John Ballantyne, bookseller to his Ma. Colvill, Esq. late town-clerk.
jesty for Scotland. Brilliant natural talents were - Ai Edinburgh, Mrs Margaret Smith, widow
combined in Mr Ballantyne with the utmost of Thomas Smith, Esq. one of the Principal Clerks
warmth and kindliness of disposition; and there to the Bills.
are not a few who will long remember him with - At Edinburgh, Mr David Swan, of the Green-
affectionate regret, as one of the truest of friends, side Company.
as well as the most delightful of companions. :9. At Glasgow, Robert Carrick, Esq. of Braco.
- At Lendal, Yorkshire, Marion Christiana, At Edinburgh, Mr Alexander Dalmahoy.
wife of George Lloyd, Esq. of Hatton Lodge, and 30. At Edinburgh, Mr James Stewart, late iper.
daughter of Alexander Maclean of Coll, Esq. chant.
- At Muthill, Mr Joseph Macpherson, writer, July 3. At his house, in York Place, Portman
Perth.
Square, London, in the 75th year of his age, Lieute-
- At his house, 9, North St David Street, Edin. General Robert Nicholson, of the Hon. East India
burgh, Mr James Stewart, late of the British Linen Company's Service, on the Bombay Establish
Campany's Bank.
ment; whose many virtues had endeared hiin to å
- At Hermitage, Leith Links, Miss Elcanor numerous circle of friends, and in whom the poor
Primrose, daughter of the deceased Sir Archibald have lost a most liberal benefactor,
Primrose of Dunipace, Bart.
Lately-Three children of a labouring man, of
17. Suddenly, Mrs Jane Watson, wife of Mr the name of Dale, residing at Aspe Heath, Isle of
Thomas Watson, chair maker, Leith Walk. Wight. On returning from the burial of the first,
- At Mid-Calder, Mr William Kippen, sen. another was found dead ; and on returning from
innkeeper there.
his funeral, the third had breathed his last. Theis
Ai Linlithgow, after a lingering illness, Chris. death was occasioned by the disorder called the
tiana, eldest daughter of Mr John Henley, of the сrоuр.
Excise there.
- At his seat, near Clonmel, in Ireland, Sir
- At Boulogne-sur-Seine, near Paris, in her Thomas Osborne, Bart. His son, only four years
24th year, Mary, daughter of W. Errington, Esq. of age, succeeds to his title and estates.
of Camden Place, Bath, and High Warden, - At his house, in Portland-Place, London, the
Northumberland.
Earl of Sheffield, His Lordship closed a long and
19. At Blackhills, near Nairn, Mrs Falconer, active life, in the 86th year of his age. His Lord
wife of Mr Æneas Falconer, surveyor of taxes for ship is succeeded in his titles and estates by his
vacant districts in Scotland.
son, George Augustus Frederick Charles Holboyd,
- At Craigie-house, Ayrshire, Mrs Mary Dehany
Viscount Pevensey.
Fotheringham, wife of James Campbell, Esq. ad - At his seat in Devonshire, Abel Worth, Esq.
vocate.
He has bequeathed £3000 to the Episcopal School
- At Dunfermline, Helen Anderson Spence, for Boys at Exeter ; £3000 to the same Establish
daughter of Mr George Spence.
ment for Girls ; £3:100 to the School of St John's
- At Gosport, aged 38, Major W. Bennet, royal Hospital in that city; and a handsome legacy to
engineers.
the Devon and Exeter Hospital,
- At Edinburg), John Syme of Cartmore, Esq. - At his country-house, near Berlin, the ceke
W. S.
brated Prussian Naturalist, Achard, the discoverer
20. At his house, Fitzroy Squars, London, in the of the process of making sugar from beet-root.
78th year of his age, John Forbes, Esq. of New - On board the Duke of Kent Packet, on his
in Strathdon, Aberdeenshire, and formerly of passage from Lisbon to Falpiouth, the Right Hon.
Bombay.
Lord Clifford.
- At Edinburgh, James, eldest son of Thomas - In London, after a short illness, Capt. Wm.
Ramsay, Esq. 133, Prince's Street.
Hadden, of the 6th, or Inskilling regiment of dra
21. At Leith, Mrs Janet Wilson, aged 73. goons, eldest son of the late Major-General Ilad-
- At Hallam, Mr Wm. Woodhouse, aged 95. den of the royal artillery.
Printed by Janics Baulantyne an: (.


BLACKWOOD'S
EDINBURGH MAGAZINE.
No. LIII.
AUGUST, 1821.
VOL. IX.
Contents.
mammor 548
menaren 502
.
Horæ Germanicæ. No. XII. The
Elegy on a Country Maiden
mammans 544
Pilgramage, a Drama, by the Ba. The Sons of Mooslim
woman 545
ron la Motte Fouquè
orannmann 481
Part II.
Ode on the Olden Time ameramanasarana 498 Sir Thomas Browne's Letter to a Friend 549
Notes
www.comunano 500 The Plague of Darkness, a Dramatic
Morsels of Melody
Scene from the Exodus
555
No. I. The Invitation means 503 The Last Plague
562
No. II. The Separation
ib.
Notes and
565
No. III. The Dreary Moor 504 On Psalm-Singing in our Churches,
No. IV. The Evening Lake 505 with some Observations upon the
No. V. The Marble Heart ib. the proposed “ Additional Psalm.
No. VI. The Evening Star me 506 ody
waarow mornano. 565
Lamb's Translation of Catullus mwana 507 The Forgers com
572
The Florida Pirate
516 WORKS PREPARING for PUBLICA-
On the Probable Influence of Moral
TION naman
578
and Religious Instruction on the
MonthlY LIST OF NEW PUBLI.
Character and Situation of Sea-
CATIONS
men. No. II.
menanaman 579
Inch Keith Beacon
MONTHLY REGISTER.
The Invocation wwww
......... 542 Commercial Report.
581
The Landscape
mocno. 543 Appointments, Promotions, &c. 585
The Wanderer of Connaught ib. Births, Marriages, and Deathsam 587
mom 531
www.co... 540
EDINBURGH:
WILLIAM BLACKWOOD, No. 17, PRINCE'S STREET, EDINBURGH ;
AND T. CADELL AND W. DAVIES, STRAND, LONDON ;
To whom Communications (post paid) may be addressed.
SOLD ALSO BY ALL THE BOOKSELLERS OF THE UNITED KINGDOM.
JAMES PALLANTYNE & co. PRINTERS, EDINBURGH.


1


BLACKWOOD'S
EDINBURGH MAGAZINE,
No. LIII.
AUGUST, 1821.
Vol. X.
HORÆ GERMANICA, No. XII.
THE PILGRIMAGE, a Drama. By the Baron de la Motte Fouqué.
In this number of the “ Horæ Ger- much from the accusations of con-
manicæ,” we propose to give some ex- science, and thinks that his only
tracts from THE PILGRIMAGE, a ro- chance of salvation depends on the
mantic drama by the Baron de la performance of a pilgrimage to the
Motte Fouqué, who has been intro. Holy Land; the journey presenting
duced to our readers by Mr Gillies's too many difficulties to himself ir his
beautiful translation of one of his infirm state of health, he wishes to
Kleine Romane. Our present extracts transfer it to one of his two sons. The
are transcribed from the papers of an-
circumstances which occasion the fa..
other friend.
ther's remorse, and the reasons which
For the purpose of explaining the prevent the sons from at first comply-
passages we select, it is only necessary ing with his wishes, are explained in
to state, that THURING, an old knight, our extracts.
feeling the approach of death, suffers
Scene-a Wood.
Enter Florus, (Thuring's younger son.)
Forth wandering with thee, rich light of morning,
Who now, in glory, o'er the wood of firs
Dost rise, and brighten into living gold
The vaporous clouds, I tread again this loved
And lonely valley-sweet secluded haunt,
Which none intrudes on !-My sick father still
Is slumbering,-fearful dreams stand round his bed,
Disquieting his rest, and torturing me,
The constant witness of his agonies.-
But every creature has its load to bear,
And every creatvre has its source of comfort.-
The bee, who revels here 'mong perfumed flowers
Voluptuously, will soon, fatigued, return,
A burthen'd labourer, to her fragrant cell.-
Why, Florus, then complain of thy hard task ?
Thou likewise hast thy source of consolation
Enjoyments that refresh thy languid spirit
In the blest hours of silent dewy morn.
Now, master, deeply loved, ah ! linger not;-
The castle's far away,—the hour's at hand
That wakes my father from his spectral dreams.-
Ah, master ! thou whose dear society
Restores, re-animates me, linger not.
VoL, IX.
2 P


1921.]
The Pilgrimage, a Drama.
483
My father's bed of sickness in the feats
Of hunting, or of horsemanship, I'm nothing!
Ant. You know them not :-if a man haunts the woods,
Deserts th' amusements of his school associates,
Forms friendships with old trees, prefers a song
To idle conversation, soon a crowd
Will follow him,--they not alone deride
Him, but become continual spies upon
His every motion ;—if thy rashness brings
A throng of busy followers thus to trace
My steps, oh ! dearly-dearly as I love thee,
My child! we yet must part, to meet no more !
Flor. Ah!
spare such threats.
Ant. Oh, this would be a fine discovery!-
Thuring's romantic son found all alone
Among the mountains with this grey old man,
These verses on his lips,-'tis not enough
That this vain chattering may expose my life,
But peace of mind, bought with such difficulty,
Is scared away for ever.-No! in vain
Would'st thou beseech me then; I could not meet
These waves of trouble. Sooner than endure
What I foresee, we should for ever part.
Flor. Ah ! why thus tortnre me with fears like these?
Why pain thyself by such severity ?
Here in the lonely forest none can hear us-
E'en I myself, I know thee not-thy songs
Alone are mine,—thy converse, that restores
Health to my heart; 0 let me listen, therefore,
Now to some song of thine, or story old,
That may re-animate my fear-scared spirits ;
Then wilt thou speak of elevating science,
And how the ingenuous mind should seek its depths.
Charm'd by thy
words divine, I bear away
In memory each dear and treasured thought,
Fair flowers to cheer the thorny wastes of life.
Ant. Sit down beside me, then, on this green sod;
Oh, it relieves me from the weariness
Of solitude, recalls me into life,
Thus to instruct thee in the tales of old,
The wisdom breathing in the minstrel's song:
Then listen. -
IRWIN, Thuring's elder son, (unseen.)
Winfred, Winfred!
Ant.
Ha ! the voice
Of a huntsman in the woods, and near!
Flor.
My brother's;
At times he here pursues the chace, and Winfred,
The husband of the beautiful Verena,
Is his companion on the mountain heights;
Be not disturb’d at this, my dear, dear master.
Ant. And a young warrior know it?
Irwin. (unseen.) Farewell, Winfred,
A pleasant journey.
Ant.
All is over now,
This vale no longer is a solitude.
Irwin. (From a rock above.) Ha! yonder in the copse-skreen see
my brother!
And close to him, is that the mountain-fiend,
With his long hoary beard? This makes all plain ;
From that direction came the song, with which


484
[Aug
Horæ Germanicæ. No. XII.
The forest rang.---Your pardon, my good brother !
A few steps off, the rock is not too steep,
And then I have your secret.
(He passes or.)
Ant. See'st thou, now?
Thou foolish idle boy-Ah! see'st thou now,
Thy thoughtless act has parted us for ever-
For ever.
Flo. Master, master, leave me not.
Ant. I must-I fear I must; it grieves me sorely;
Farewell—thou never wilt bebold me more !
(Exit.
Flo. And was he then in earnest? No! oh, no!
The storm will threaten oft in sultry days,
Yet pass away uninjuring; yea, at times
Reviving the parch'd earth; thus thou, dear master,
Would'st terrify me now, but not destroy.
Irw. Where is he gone, that spectre old and gray?
Vanished ?-air melted into air !
Flo. Alas,
Vanished !
Irw. And is it this that makes thee mournful?
Flo. You came, dear brother, at an ill-timed moment.
Irw. A pretty secret this to guard so closely;
Our father torturing us to go as pilgrims
To Palestine ; you still refuse to go;
I thought a pretty girl was in the case,
But here I find you squatting, side by side,
With an old, dull, ill-humour'd fool, who flies
Into his bushes to conceal himself.
Flo. Nay, speak not thus; I will not listen to it.
Irw. Why, this sounds well. How long is't since you've learn'd
This loud and passionate language? My fine fellow,
That baby-arm, it terrifies me not.
Flo. What mean you ? art thou not my brother? Yet
Thy skill in arms, thy fame for knightly deeds,
Were no restraint to me, if holy anger
Seized me.
Irw. Well, when it comes, we're ready for it.
But tell me now, why do you thus resist
This pilgrimage ? You'll meet with, in the East,
I should imagine, woody vales enough,
And good old gentlemen with long gray beards.
Flo. My dear, dear brother, cease this ridicule ;
And I entreat thee, never to betray
In merry mood, or random conversation,
What thou just now hast seen ;--that good old man
(I know no more of him, than that each morning
We meet, to enjoy the stillness of the wood,
And the delight of song,) has taught me much
That other masters strive in vain to teach,
The high ennobling art of poetry.
Each chooses for himself some guide in life,
and he is mine. Oh! tear me not from him!
Divorced from him, I think I could not live.
Here will I stay, and nurse my dying father ;
The joys of battle, and the chace be thine,
Be thine our steeds, our armoury.
Irw. Oh, yes!
Because your woman heart would tremble at them.
Flo. Irwin, I too am Thuring's genuine son.
Irw. Then prove it; shew thyself a warrior.


1821.]
The Pilgrimage, a Drama.
485
Flo. Why, I should think a mind like thine, delighted
With bold adventures, would enjoy a journey
Into the land of Morning.
Irw. What can'st thou
Know of such feelings with your housewife heart?
Flo. Ah! brother, thou art cruel, quarrelsome.
Farewell, then, thou hast sent me mournful home ;
I go to nurse my father-fare thee well.
Irw. How mild he is--ah! pardon me, dear boy,
In me my father's stormy passions rise.
But thou, whose heart reflects the piety
And meekness of our sweet dead mother's spirit,
Ah! bear with me. My own ! my Florus. (Embracing him.
Flo. Tears, Irwin ? thou in tears ?
Irw. Thou knowest them not,
The passions that are torturing my sick heart.
0, woe is me, for I am driven along
Where ruin beckons me; and with a smile
So sweet, expressive of such love, allures me,
That Sin seems something bright and beautiful,
And Suffering for such cause, even enviable !
Flo. I hear your words, but understand them not
Words in a foreign tongue, they
Irw. Happy boy,
Ah! never learn it. Passion's language soon
Is taught; we lisp the sounds with ease; the lessons,
Soon understood, can never be forgotten-
Never forgotten, though the heart should sigh
Eagerly for oblivion.
Flo. Brother, brother !
Irw. Is Winfred not my friend ? my fellow-soldier ?
Is not his bride a consecrated image ?
Flo. Who said she was not ?
Irw. And to me he leaves her;
Confides her to my care ; sets out upon
A distant journey, leaving me the guardian
Here of his castle, and of his Verena.
Oh ! that he were return'd, this conflict over,
This struggle between Virtue, Friendship, Passion,
This agony that tortures, yet delights me
Oh! that the victory were won, and yet-
Farewell.
(Erit.
Flo. What can he mean? these words, these starts,
Rapture and Fear? I can't conceive his meaning !
(Exit in the opposite direction.
Scene-A chamber in THURING's Castle.
Thur. (Coming out from a side door.) Ho! Florus, Florus, still these
evil dreams
Come back and terrify my senses. Florus,
Chase them away. Ho! Florus, where is he?
He hears me not; the empty vaults re-echo
My voice; what-gone-gone out, to amuse himself.
Ah! Thuring, desolate old man, thy cares
Are well repaid ; two sons thou hast brought up,
Two dutiful sons, who, when the question is
Of my salvation, which this pilgrimage
Would render certain-love their home, forsooth,
So well, they would not live if absent from it,
Attach'd as branches to the parent tree.
But let the arch glance of a merry eye,
Or war, or tournament, attract the one,


1821.]
The Pilgrimage, a Drama.
487
Still walk in that dark chamber? Thou art shuddering!
Hast thou ? thou must have seen him; for thy features
Of his, methinks, have caught the stern expression,
And mirror his with horrible resemblance.
Go-go-into that dread and lonely chamber.
Let me not see again that face of his !
Go! I conjure thee, go !
Ant. Peace be with thee.
(Exit.
Thu. The gaze of this mysterious man at times
Affects me with strange terror ; and a word
'Tis wonderfulma little word from him
“ Peace be with thee,"- A common phrase like this..
Said with that tone, will give me back again,
My health of spirit, will restore my life
Ha! Florus comes ! Quick bolt the door at once!
(He bolts the door through which Antonius has gone out)
Enter FLORUS.
Thuring (to himself.) Oh! how this beautiful and blooming face,
Reflecting every motion of the spirit,
Reminds me of the days that have gone by!
I too was gay, and innocent as he;
I too had nothing to conceal. It seems
When I behold him, as if I myself
Came, in the brightness of my better days,
Here to reproach the gray old man with crimes
Done in the melancholy interval !
Florus. My father, only tell me in what way
To lighten of their load the dreary hours;
To make thee cheerful,-shall I pray? or sing?
Or read some old romance? or chronicle
Of days that
Thu. Woe is me, my son,
far more
Than prayer, or song, romance, or chronicle,
One word—that one word I've so oft demanded-
One word from thee, said from thy heart sincerely,
“I go a pilgrim to Jerusalem,"
Will please thy father-save thy father's soul.
Wilt thou refuse me?
Flo. Let me ask my father,
Does the old warrior hate his peaceful son
So much, as thus o'er sea and land to banish him?
Thu. Oh think not thus ! my dear, dear son, best staff
Of my old age; but where does Irwin rove?
Flo. Sir Winfred has set out on a long journey,
And left in Irwin's charge his wife and castle.
Thu. Winfred's a fool!
Flo. A fool say you, to trust
The friendship of the honourable Irwin?
Thu. Why think yourself-Verena loveliest
Of women- Irwin the most valiant knight.
Flo. What mean you?
Thu. Can you not conceive ? 'Tis this
That makes your brother to his native land
Thus constant.
Flo. How? to guard his friend's effects ?
Thu. Oh tranquil, clear, unsullied stream ! my Florus,
Why wilt thou not in pious pilgrimage,
Now in the fragrant time of budding youth,
With ardent bosom, seek the holy grave?


488
Horæ Germanicæ. . NO.XII.
[Ang.
Flo. Each man has some one object of pursuit,
Which wins his love, to which his heart impels him,
With force, that will not be opposed, to which
He eagerly devotes his faculties,
And lavishes his thoughts delightedly
On the dear idol :-Poetry to me
Has thus been consecrated, rules my heart
Like a pervading passion, claims the homage
Of all my powers.
Oh knit not thus thy brows,
My father! often hath my song dispell’d
Thy savage dreams; and often hath it soothed
Thy senses, lulling thee to sweet oblivion,
Diffusing its own magic dreams around thee:
Such, father, is the charm of poetry
In every place where there is man to feel.
Through the wide world the soother's voice is felt,
And me the charmer call’d, and me she summon'd;
And while with timid eye and heart confused,
Unable to interpret my own feelings,
I gazed around me, doubtful, diffident,
There met me an old, pious, worthy man,
Affectionate and cheerful; he became
My master, taught me the loved mystery
Of song-instructed me how man should seek
And learn to know his God! Many a rich tale
He told- delightful narratives to hear,
Flowing so sweetly from those reverend lips !
Oh, father, tear me not from him ; in truth,
I feel my conduct different on the days
I speak to him. Then am I mild and good;
Unsteady, languid, harsh, dissatisfied,
When I have miss'd the old man's company.
'Tis said, that in man's purest thoughts there is
Some evil mingled. This he drives away.
Nothing unholy can endure his presence.
Let me each morning seek the lonely valley;
Find there the balm that heals the soul. Thus, father,
Thy son's affections, and his happiness,
Will be secured.
Thu. Ha ! ha! and this is Virtue !
The thing.men boast of–here is one whose wishes
And outward seeming speak of purity,
And yet the devil is living in his heart,
As in all other men's.
Flo. You chide me, father,
'Tis but a moment since you spoke with praise ;
And praise and blame-so given-alike perplex me.
Thu. I have not blamed thee, boy-I blame mankind.
How they do speak of crime, (for thus they call it)
And thou, who canst not understand what's meant
By an allusion to the least transgression,
(1 scarce should call it by so harsh a name,)
To the least rashness, thou wilt say that Evil
Dwells in thy heart! Ye all are hypocrites.
Flo. No, father! Of this rashness, as you call it,
I nothing know, nor feel I self-convicted
of any thing, the thought of which should stain
My cheek with shame; but in the book of God
We read, that man is fallen.
Thu. The book of God!
Ay, thus the monks, your master hypocrites
Will talk. And is it there you skreen yourself?
S


490
Horæ Germanicæ. No. XII.
[Aug.
Thuring completes the confession of his guilt, which closes the scene. The
next is in the garden of Winfred's castle. While Irwin is expressing his love
to Verena, a messenger arrives, who announces the death of her husband, who
is very opportunely killed by a bear.
SECOND ACT.
Scene—A Valley near Thuring's Castle.
THURING sitting on a rock, Irwin standing before him.
Thu. Well, well ! whate'er they say of rhyme and song,
And sound of harp, and how the poet's art
Subdues the soul of man through all the world,
The sword is still the noble's proper weapon,
His only honourable ornament !
Why, what are all these pretty lullabies
Of Florus's, compared with the delight
That I receive from such a sight as this ?
My son array'd in splendid arms the colours
Of our old family once more display'd-
And at thy heels the tinkling spurs of gold-
In yonder copse the impatient war-horse panting,
Gazing with eager eye towards thee, as longing
To bear his princely master to the battle-
Even I myself, as thou didst lead me hither,
Felt in my veins again the heroic blood
Burning—the frost of age dissolved away,
When I but touched thy warrior arms
ms--the thoughts,
Whose horrid presence wither'd me, are gone-
Thou art, indeed, old Thuring's genuine son !
Irw. Thus be it ever, father-may thy youth
Return, restored in thy son's deeds of glory-
And every morning shall this well-knit arm
Win for thy brow another wreath of honour.
Life thus made happy-and when life is over,
The high-arched vault, where we must lie at last,
Hung round with shields, which tell of high achievements,
And many a well-won banner proudly streaming.
Thu. Would death were come ! but, oh! beyond the grave
There is a land that rings not with the fame
Of warriors ! where none speak of shield or standard-
Irwin, Eternity in hell is long-
Fearfully long-long inexpressibly!
Irw. Who prays more piously than gentle Woman?
Is there a saint, whose voice Heaven hears more soon
Than the effusions of a female heart,
Breathing in tender prayer?--thou hast no daughter-
Oh, let me give a daughter to thy house,
One who, with violence of burning prayer,
heaven to thee!
Thu. And 'twas for this
That thou to-day didst offer me thine arm
For this invitedst me to breathe the air
Of the cold morn—for this didst flatter me
Is Winfred's widow this selected daughter?
Thuring makes the performance of the pilgrimage to the Holy Land by
Irwin the condition of his assent to the proposed union; and the son, equally
determined, leaves Thuring, expressing his resolution never to undertake such
a journey, till Verena becomes his wife, or he has wept over her grave. The
next scene introduces Verena.
Will open
6


1821.]
The Pilgrimage, a Drama.
401
Verena, (not observing Thuring). Whisper not thus reproach-
ingly, ye branches !
Gaze not on me with such a conscious look,
Ye wildflowers of the wood! The tall grass seems,
As the breeze comes, with an upbraiding voice,
To speak of me! How is it that every thing
Seems still distinctly saying, “ Irwin-Irwin,"
Repeating always the loved dreaded name-
And my heart echoes it unceasingly.
Oh, Winfred ! from thy cold and narrow bed
Appear, and chill this frantic feverisha passion-
Ghost of the dead, arise ! and from the world,
Drive to the pensive solitary cloister
Thy wife, unfaithful to thy memory-
Force from those burning lips a binding vow
Inviolable-immure me in the darkness,
The dungeon dreariness of the cold convent-
Compel me, for my soul shrinks back in horror
Irresolute--my sinful bosom feels
Too deep, too tender love for the young hero,
The beautiful Irwin.
Thuring appears, reproaches Verena bitterly, and succeeds in affecting her
imagination so much, that she at last consents to gratify him, by taking mea-,
sures to have it believed that she has died, and by remaining a prisoner in his
castle. She thus hopes to escape the passion of Írwin, and live more entirely
separated from the world, than she could be in a convent. Thuring, by this
means, secures the performance of the pilgrimage, and also has the advantage
of Verena's prayers in addition to those of Antonius. He is, however, mortified
by the determination of Florus, who, now that he has lost his master, is as eager
for the pilgrimage, as he was before averse to it. The father, whose wishes would
be fully gratified by the pilgrimage of one of his sons, is unable to prevail on
either of them to relinquish the pursuit.
Thuring to Florus. I must confess to thee, my son, that oft,
Oft as I wish'd this pilgrimage of thine-
And 'twas my theme by day,--and when I slept,
Dreams mock'd me with its vain accomplishment
Oft as I blamed thy lingering, thy refusal-
Yet now, when I behold thee standing here,
Prepared for travel, 'tis with grief I gaze
Upon my son-with heaviness of heart-
And shall I lose thee-thee, who still hast been
My gentle, kind, unweariable attendant-
Thee, the reflected image of my youth!
And shall I lose thee, and survive, my Florus ?
Flo. Hast thou not said that thou art apprehensive
For thy soul's dear salvation ? that thy hope
Was rested on this pilgrimage?
Thu. There my own weapon hast thou turn'd against me;
Well, be it so ! I lose thee, then, my Florus ! (Embracing him.
Flo. Oh, father, if thou always wert so mild !
Thu. That cannot be ; however, I may strive !
Hell often whispers me in gloom and vapour,
And often will it rave perceptibly,
And then my wild eyes sparkle with strange fire,
And then my lips are loud with blasphemy.-
Go then, my son, redeem thy father's soul :
Pure effluence from a source impure-Oh, fly!
Seek in the east the glorious morning beams!
This curse that tortures me convert to blessings !


492
Hore Germanicæ. No. XII.
[Auk.
Irwin enters, alludes to Verena's death, and announces his intended journey.
Irw. Then to the Holy Land we both will go,
But not together-Warrior and Pilgrim
Would only prove unsuitable companions.
Let him, if so he loves, in palmer-weeds
Wander through foreign lands! In such a dress,
In such demure and pensive guise, I would
Go mad.— Farewell, I follow my own way!
Thu. Irwin, my dear, my first-born son, oh, go not !
Irw. Here to remain ! to see of Winfred's castle
The dear-loved battlements !-to rove the woods
In solitude, where I was wont to meet her
Lingering till I came! on every bank
To weep upon the flowers she loved, -oh, no!
This cannot be. I must away,-must hear
Lances, and swords, and heathen scymitars,
Ring round my head ; this only will restore me
To rest, or else the honourable grave !-
Thu. Oh, Irwin, Irwin, can'st thou not remain ?
And yet I know a way, but dare not use it,-
One offering will not satisfy Heaven's justice;
I must lose both,-must linger here deserted, -
I cannot bear the dreams, that haunt and scare me;
And, therefore, must I seal my lips,-must send
All that I love away,-must sacrifice,
In this dread pilgrimage, all that remains.
Depart. —
Flo. I hear already the glad waves
Welcoming me, with animating voice !
Irw. Travel by land for me—its many dangers !
Through many a hostile country will I go,
Search out each day some desperate enterprize,
That
may
conclude this miserable life.
Thu. My sons, it was a brilliant day, when I
First wore a warrior's arms.
Like thee, my noble Irwin, I was strong ;
Like thee, my gentle Florus, kind, romantic;
Like both, was young.-
And in this very
chamber
My father stood, a grey hair'd man, and old
As is your father now, but stronger far,
And far more cheerful,-he was ever cheerful,
-He might be cheerful !- then he bade me look
Upon the portraits of our ancestors,
Told me their deeds, and dwelt on every name!
Then did he call me nobleman and knight;
And, as he spoke, the blood of the old heroes
Burn'd in my glowing frame. Alas! that fire
In these dead ashes now no longer glimmers !
My children, I cannot command his strong
And animating language; weak am I
In words,-a poor, old, miserable man;
And ye must leave your father's halls, ungifted
With benefits, which are not mine to give;
But, as he blest me, I may on my sons
Bestow my blessing :-Bend your knees, my children,
A father's blessing rest upon your heads !
Thuring's frenzy again seizes him ; he fears that a blessing bestowed by him
will become a curse, and call down destruction upon his children ; he drives


494
Horæ Germanicu. No, XII.
[Aug.
But, from what rich flowers delicious,
From what tree, whose tears are perfume,
Flows the aromatic current?
Who can tell its secret fountain ?
I can tell it ;-I have found it, -
And I fill my magic phial
With the prize invaluable :
Hormisdas bends, and gazes in the glass,-
The unseen gales of fragrance rise
And fly impatiently, to breathe
Round Zilia's hair, round Zilia's graceful form !
A Maiden. Oh, what a happy lot is mine !
My occupation all is cheerful play,
And after occupation, sweet repose-
Reward of happy toils !
How happy am I here, removed from all
That once I loved, an ignorant poor child,—
The gloomy wood, and the moss-cover'd cottage !
The tale my mother told,
(Poor woman, only rich in fairy tales,)
Has been to me most splendidly accomplished :
I slept one evening on her breast, -
There came to me a wond'rous Dream,
That half unclosed my eyes,
And gave me strength to run;
It led me far away,
Long did my mother sleep,
And wept when she awoke,
To find her child was gone !
And I beheld her tears !
-But the Dream Hormisdas sent
Enticed me to this pleasant place,
To one eternal round of joy ;
Far away my native cottage
Lies, forgotten, unregretted,
In the gloom of poverty!
And I play with pearls and diamonds,
Happy, happy girl that I am !
A Youth. From the lofty war-proof fortress,
Where, from the high hill, in splendour
Shine the walls and battlements,
Commanding a wide range of prospect,
I ran, a happy child, delighted
To wander in the pleasant greenwood ;
I thought to enjoy the huntsman's pleasures,
Which I oft had seen my father
Seeking with his boon companions !
Bat how sweet, how heart-refreshing,
Were the scenes that in the forest
Sooth'd my captivated senses ;
All that wide and shadowy meadow,
Beneath the roof of meeting branches,
Was echoing a stream of music,
That flow'd forth, as from a fountain,
From the breathing lips of HYMNUS;
Who there was standing visibly ;
He held me with his giant arm;
He flatter'd me with words seducing,
From those sweet lips, red as roses,
And I was his a willing captive.
He bore me from my native meadows,
Up into the blue sky starry,


1821.]
The Pilgrimage, a Drama.
495
Holy Night's serene dominions ;
Gliding fast, with unfelt motion,
I sapk down 'mong flowers and fragrance,
In the garden of Hormisdas !
And willingly do I resign the chace,
And all its pleasures ; lingering happy here,
Singing my idle songs 'mong fragrant flowers !
Maiden. I was playing
In the garden, on the roof
Of our house, in Ascalon!
When a butterfly came humming
O'er the flowers, and I was tempted
To follow the bright flutterer,
And the slender sounds were woven
To a web of gold, that, rustling,
Lifted me with impulse airy !
And they then were changed to winglets
That grew upon my shoulders graceful.
Hither I move to these delightful gardens,
Happy in heart; and think of Ascalon
With scorn—the city that the stranger seeks,
The ornament and glory of the East !
A Youth. I know the land of the evening sun
The fields where towers the giant oak-
The countries of the cloud and storm,
Whose lakes are often roof'd with ice ;
Where the morning rises chill,
And the night, from dreary wing,
Showers hoar-frost on the shrinking flowers ;
And there are warriors to be seen, in arms
Loud sounding, splendid heavy arms of steel !
Swords in their hands, unlike the scymitar ;
The blade unbent, and double-edged, cuts straight
Into the faces of the enemy;
And on their heads the heavy visor'd helm,
From which a cloud of many colour'd plumes
Streams in the playful breeze ;
And my friends wish'd that I should be a soldier.
Already had I learned to bend
The war-horse to my will ;
Already, with an active arm,
Could sway the warrior's sword;
But, as I rested after my first battle,
There came, with friendly words, a gray old man ;
He sate beside me. From his lips stream'd forth
A wondrous tale. Unceasingly it stream'd ;
Holding enchanted my surrender'd soul,
Till the sweet stars came gemming the blue sky;
And then he rose, but still the tale continued ;
And on we wander'd, and the narrative
Was still unfinish’d, and we reach'd the shore ;
I following him, unable to resist
The magic of his voice !
Rapidly, rapidly he went,
Rapidly, rapidly I follow'd him ;
I threw
away
the shield that burthen'd me,
I threw away from me the encumbering sword,
And we embark’d, and still the tale continued
All day ! all night! The moon did wex and wane,


1821.]
The Pilgrimage, a Drama.
497
But where could its inhabitants have enter'a ?
Is there no opening, whence their eyes may gaze
On the sun's lovely light-on the blue sky?
How can their lips imbibe the enlivening breath
Restorative, from meadow or from grove?
For, without this, I cannot think a beast,
Much less a man, can live in happiness.
Abdul. Be not misled, brave knight, this is no more
Than a mere mockery, to cheat the senses.
'Tis but a bright delusive cloud you gaze on,
That skreens from sight the high arched gates and windows !
The next scene represents the garden of Hormisdas's palace. In the back
ground is a watch-tower, from the roof of which Hormisdas contemplates the
stars. Zilia is seen in the garden below.
Zilia. Before the calin breath of this silent night
My cares are past away. The strange delusion
That dazzled and enslaved my soul so long,
Is vanish’d. It was not our pleasant dance
Under the plane trees, near the smiling lake-
'Twas love, felt deeply, never felt before ;
'Twas Florus that has fill’d my breast with life.
Oh, where my love, where dost thou wander now?
Scarce may I dare to breathe a sigh to thee.
On the old tower, in the white moonshine, stands
The dread magician, reading in the stars
The secret wishes that employ the heart ;
Perhaps he'll send one of his spirits here
To punish me, because I love this youth.
Cease, treacherous tears, or fall in secret here
Upon the dark green myrtle's dewy leaf.
The faithful myrtle-leaf will not betray thee.
Hormisdas. (Above.) Ye golden glories of the firmament !
Ye faithful friends! Ye silent counsellors !
Your warning light still intimates some danger ;
Yet if 'tis true, (and who can doubt its truth
That understands the language of your looks ;)
If it be true, that I interpret rightly
Your secret meaning, I need fear no longer.
Even at this moment, the dark womb of Earth
Hath closed upon the Black Knight-the Avenger
The Adversary, named by Destiny -
What can this mean, but that my foe is dead?
Hormisdas continues his astrological inquiries till the appearance of Irwiv,
who having entered the castle by a subterráneoựs passage, explains the language
of the stars— he kills Hormisdas--the enchantments, as in all such stories, are at
an end. Irwin, however, with an inconstancy which we are afraid will be con-
sidered quite unpardonable in the devoted lover of Verena, asserts his right as
conqueror to the possession of Zilia. She and Florus fly to Europe ; but have
scarcely arrived at Thuring's castle, when they are overtaken by Irwin. Thu-
ring's raving fit returns, when he sees both bis sons, and discovers that the pil-
grimage is still unaccomplished. The reader anticipates the conclusion of the
drama. Irwin is reconciled to the loss of Zilia, by the re-appearance of Verena.
The hermit Antonius, is Lothen, the betrayed guest. Thuring's conscience is
thus relieved from the weight of his supposed guilt, and he dies uniting the
hands of his sons and their brides.
Vol. IX.
3 R


498
[Aug.
Ode on the Olden Time.
ODE ON THE OLDEN TIME.
Somnia, terrores magicos, miracula, sagas,
Nocturnos Lemures, portentaque Thessala.--Hor.
The skies are blue; the moon reclines
Above the silent grove of pines,
As if devoid of motion ;
The ivied abbey frowns forlorn ;
And stilly to the ear are borne
The murmurs of the ocean.
1
The nightshade springs beside the walk;
Luxuriantly the hemlock stalk
Expands its leaves unthwarted,
Above the monumental stones,
Above the epitaphs, and bones,
Of beings long departed.
No human dreams disturb the soul,
Whose thoughts, like giant-billows, roll
'Mid darksome ages hoary ;
When light upon the human mind
Dawn'd faintly, and the world was blind
With superstitious story.
When fairies, with their silver bells,
Were habitants of earthly dells,
All sheathed in emerald dresses :
And mermaids, from the rock, were seen
At sea, and every wave between,
Combing their dewy tresses.
When wither'd hags their orgies kept,
'Mid darksome night; when Nature slept,
And tempests threaten'd danger;
Sheer, from the precipice to throw
Down-down among the rocks below,
The lorn, benighted stranger.
When grim, before the vision stalk'd
Such figures, as no longer walk'd
The upper world, and faces
Of men, that on their deathbeds lay,
As Twilight spread her shades of grey,
Were seen in desart places.
Then, glittering to the morning sun,
With casque, and sable morion,
And greaves, and cuirass glancing,
The knight, and vassals at his call,
On battle feud forsook the hall,
A thousand chargers prancing.
Dark deeds were done
and blood was shed
In secret—and the spirit led
To fury, and to madness ;
Hearths quench'd ; and black walls smoking round;
And children's blood upon the ground;
And widows left in sadness.


1921.)
Ode on the Olden Time.
499
Then from her cloister wall, the Nun
Gazed anxious toward the setting sun,
Descending o'er the ocean ;
Till startled by the deep-toned bell,
That summon'd her from lonely cell
To even-tide devotion.
Then from the tilt, and tournay, came
The youthful knight, with soul of flame,
His lady's rights defending ;
The glove upon his
cap on high ;
And love unto his falcon eye
Redoubled ardour lending.
Or at the Louvre-while his steed
Shot forward with the lightning's speed,
'Mid courtly crowds assembled,
The gallant bore the ring away,
And turning to his mistress gay,
Their meeting glances trembled.
Now all have pass'd-their halls are bare
The ravens only harbour there;
And restless owls are whooping
Around the vaults, as if to bring,
Day's rosy lustre withering -
Departed spirits trooping.
A giant ruin !-grimly frown
Its walls of grey, and roof of brown;
Its watch-towers dimly throwing
Their shadows in the pure moonlight
Far from them, and to wizard night
A doubled power bestowing.
No voice is heard—'tis silent all,
The steed hath vanish'd from the stall;
The hawk and hound have perish'd ;
The orchard trees have all grown wild;
The flowers and shrubs for turf are piled
O'er all who fondly cherish’d.
With hound in leash, and hawk in hood,
The forester, through pale and wood,
From morn till eve was roaming
'Mid scenes majestically wild-
Dark mountains huge, o'er mountains piled,
Begirt with torrents foaming.
And, o'er the precipices bleak,
At pride of place, the eagle's shriek,
Beneath the tempest scowling,
Dismal he heard, afar from men,
In wastes where foxes made their den,
And famish'd wolves were howling.
Hark!-'twas the boding owl that scream'de
Too long my spirit hast thou dream'd
of ages, far reclining
Amid the shadows of the past ;
And, fitful as the lightning blast,
On wakeful memory shining.


500
Ode on the Olden Time.
[Aug.
Thou, holy moon, hast seen them all,
While clouds came o'er thee, but their thrall
Is passing, and in glory,
Stedfastly on the verdant ground
Thou shinest-on the graves around,
And mouldering arches hoary !
'Tis pleasant to revert the eye
Froin life in its reality-
From living things around us-
And, for a season, break the chain,
Which, ah! too soon will knit again-
With which the world hath bound us.
The grassy court—the mossy wall-
Vault-bartizan-and turret tall-
With weeds that have o'ergrown them;
Though silent as the desart air,
Yet have their eloquence, and bear
Morality upon them.
Yes! these are talismans, that break
The sleep of visions, and awake
Long silent recollections ;
That kindle in the mental eye,
Romantic feelings long gone by,
And glowing retrospections.
By them the mind is taught to know,
That all is vanity below;
And that our being only
Is for a day,—and that we pass-
And are forgotten,-and the grass
Will wave above us lonely.
Yes, all must change-we cannot stay
The spoiler. Time, with onward sway,
All human pride defaces ;
A few brief years revolve, and then
We are no more,-and other men
Shall occupy our places.
And I, now resting on a tomb,
Shall sleep within its breast, the gloom
Of dark oblivion o'er me;
And beings, yet unborn, shall tread,
On moonlight eves, above my head,
As I o'er those before me.
NOTES ON ODE ON THE OLDEN TIME.
Note I.
When fairies, with their silver bells,
Were habitants of earthly dells,
All sheathed in emerald dresses.
The Fairies of Scotland are represented as a diminutive race of beings, of a mixed or
rather dubious nature ; capricious in their dispositions, and mischievous in their resent-
ment. They inhabit the interior of green hills, chiefly those of conical form, in Gaelic
termed sighan, on which they lead their dances by moon-light ; impressing upon the sur-
face the marks of circles, which sometimes appear yellow and blasted, sometimes of a
deep green hue, and within which it is dangerous to sleep, or to be found after sun-set.
-Dr Leyden's “ Dissertation on the Fairy Superstition," in BORDER MINSTRELSY.


1821.]
Ode on the Olden Time.
501
Like the Feld-Elfen of the Saxons, the usual dress of the Fairies is green ; though,
on the moors, they have been sometimes observed in heath-brown, or in weeds dyed with
stone-raw, or lichen. They often ride in invisible procession ; when their presence is
discovered by the shrill ringing of their bridles.-Ibid.
Note II.
When withered hags their orgies kept
Mid darksome night.
Such as wish to revel among the intricacies of witchcraft, may do so to surfeiting in
that delightful miscellany “Satan's Invisible World,” by the Glasgow Professor ; Ar-
not's celebrated “ Criminal Trials ;" Sharpe's “ Memorials of Law ;” and in sundry
numbers of old, decent, blue-coated Maggie Scott.
Note III.
When grim before the vision stalk'd
Such figures, as no longer walk'd
The upper world.
“ The wraith, or spectral appearance, of a person shortly to die, is a firm article in
the creed of Scottish superstition. Nor is it unknown in our sister kingdom.”-SIR
WALTER Scott.
To those who are curious in these matters we relate the following illustration, ha-
ring heard it repeatedly from the very lips of the person to whom it occurred :
“When the lady alluded to was a girl, she had an acquaintance, perhaps a lover, in
the person of a midshipman on board the Royal George.
“One morning she awoke suddenly from sleep, and, looking to the foot of her bed,
she saw the figure of the midshipman standing, in boyish beauty, with closed eyes,
dressed in his naval uniform, and with a black silk handkerchief round his neck. She
gazed for an instant, and then plunged her head under the bed-clothes, uttering a loud
shriek. When she ventured again to look up, the apparition had vanished.
“ She arose, and dressed herself; but remained during the whole day disconsolate,
and could not help often bursting into tears when left alone. On the forenoon of that
day, when walking with a friend, who remarked her sorrowful appearance, she related
the circumstance, and said, that it certainly foreboded death ; and was not to be laugh-
ed out of her fears.
“ In a few days arrived the awful news of the loss of the Royal George, and her gal-
lant crew; among whose number was the young midshipman.'
If the reader is anxious to learn whether the writer believes this anecdote, I beg eva-
sively to answer him in the words of the old Border Minstrel,
“ I tell the tale, as told to me.”
For further instances of Wraiths, see the story of Diana Rich, in Aubrey's “ Mis-
cellanies ;” that of Mrs Veale, in many a six-penny and three-penny pamphlet ; and
the instance recorded by Mr Duffte, as related to him, during his second voyage, in our
last Number.
Note IV.
-faces
Of men, that on their death-beds lay,
Were seen in desart places.
These are, to use the words of the divine Milton, the
-calling shapes, and beck'ning shadows dire,
And airy tongues, that syllable men's names
On sands, and shores, and desart wildernesses.
“ These spirits often foretell men's deaths,” saith old Burton, “ by severall signs, as
knocking, groanings, &c. though Rich. Argentine, c. 18. De Præstigiis Demonum, will
ascribe these predictions to good angels, out of the authority of Ficinus and others ;
“ prodigia in obitu principium sæpius contigunt, &c. as, in the Lateran Church in
Rome, the Popes' deaths are foretold by Sylvester's tomb. Near Rupes Nova, in Fin-
land, in the kingdome of Sweden, there is a lake, in which, before the governour of the
castle dyes, a spectrum, in the habit of Arion, with a harp appears, and makes excellent
musick ;-like those blocks in Cheshire, which (they say) presage death to the master
of the family; or that oke in Lanthradran Park, in Cornwall, which foreshows as much."
-ANATOMY OF MELANCHOLY, Part I. sect. 2.
“ Ambulones, that walk, about midnight, on great heaths and desart places ; which,
saith Lavater, draw men out of the way, and lead them all night by a bye-way, or quite
bar them of their way."-Idem.


562
Ode on the Olden Time.
[Aug.
Note V.
Casque, and sable morion,
And greaves and cuirass glancing.
For an account of the rise, progress, institutions, and decline of Chivalry, vide Pre-
liminary Dissertation to Robertson's “ Charles V.” passim. For specimens of its prose
details, the reader may consult Froissard's “ Cronicle ;" and for examples of its poeti-
cal, the “ Lay of the Last Minstrel," and the “Marmion,” of Sir Walter Scotty-may
we add likewise his “ Ivanhoe.” See, by the same, the article Chivalry, in the supple-
ment to the “ Encyclopædia Britannica;" for he has made the subject his own in all its
bearings.
Note VI.
Then, from her cloister-wall, the Nun
Gazed anxious toward the setting sun,
Descending o'er the ocean.
Savary, in his “ Lettres sur la Grece," presents us with a most interesting description
of the convent of Acrotiri, and its inhabitants. They were three in number ; one ad-
vanced in years, another of middle age, and a novice of sixteen,—without seeing the last
of whom, he informs us, it would be impossible to form any adequate conception. All
that could beautify the form, or dignify the mind, of the fairest of nature's works, seem
to have centred in one doomed forever to solitude and to sorrow. “ Je vous avouerai,"
que cette pensée m'affligoit. Tant de charmes ensevelis pour jamais au fond
d'une triste solitude ! Celle qui etoit née pour faire la felicité d'un mortel, separée pour
jamais de la societé des hommes !”
Note VII.
“ At pride of place," the eagle's shriek.
A term of falconry ;-the highest pitch of the eagle's flight. Shakespeare, in his
Macbeth, says,
An eagle, towering to his pride of place,
Was by a mousing owl hawked at, and killed.
Note VIII.
Yes! these are talismans, that break
The sleep of visions.
Amulet, a charm, or preservation against mischief, witchcraft, or diseases. Amulets
were made of stone, metal, simples, animals, and every thing that fancy or caprice sug,
gested ; and sometimes consisted of words, characters, and sentences, ranged in a parti-
cular order, and engraved upon wood, and worn about the neck, or some other part of
the body. At other times, they were neither written nor engraved ; but prepared with
many superstitious ceremonies, great regard being usually paid to the influence of the
stars. The Arabians have given to this species of amulets the name of talismans. All
nations have been fond of amulets. The Jews were extremely superstitious in the use
of them to drive away diseases ; and even among the Christians of the early times, amu.
lets were made of the wood of the Cross, or ribbons with a text of Scripture written in
them, as preservatives against diseases. --Note by the Translator of Schiller's Ghost
Seer.
says he,“
MORSELS OF MELODY.
1st August, 1821.
DEAR CHRISTOPHER,
I wonder what could make you sup- requires a vivida vis animi,-an active
pose that I would write a good song; power, amounting to an overflowing of
but you extorted a promise from me mind in the sentiment, and a particu-
to try, and, behold, I send you a proof lar delicacy and terseness in the ex-
that even you, with all your sagacity, pression ; and the whole winded up
are not infallible,—a frailty which you tightly round the nucleus of some lead-
need not take deeply to heart, as your ing thought. Besides, it induces dan-
general discrimination is well known, gerous comparisoris,--and you know
and as you share it with the Roman comparisons are odious,-for every
pontiff.
song-reader thinks of Burns and
Let me tell you, friend, that it is no Moore.
easy matter to write a good song; it I have said my say, and done my


1821.)
503
Morsels of Melody.
best. Perhaps I ought not to have let me know that the present are the
tried it; but who can resist the win- very best songs you have ever seen.
ning smiles of Christopher? Poets love
Believe me,
praise ; so if you wish another half-
Dear Christopher,
dozen, you have no more to do than to
Your sincere friend,
P.S.—The hams came safely to hand: they have the true Westphalia
flavour.
No. I.
THE INVITATION.
Ou come, with thy blue eyes of beaming,
Thou Dameless one, whom I love best;
When the sun-beam of crimson is streaming
Through the lattice that looks to the west :
Oh come, when the birds with their singing
Fill every recess of the grove,-
And such thoughts in the bosom are springing,
As kindle the spirit to love !
Oh come, where the elm-tree incloses
The mossy green seat in its shade,-
And the perfume of blossoming roses
Is borne on the breeze of the glade;
The streamlet is sparkling beneath us,
The briar-cover'd banks are above,
Around are young lilies, and with us
Soft thoughts that speak to us of love !
Oh come, for afflictions are thronging
To darken my life to a waste;
Oh come, for my spirit is longing
The bliss of thy presence to taste!
Though dark disappointments have wrung me,
And though with my fate I have strove,
Whate'er were the arrows that stung me,
I have found a resource in thy love!
Oh come, for thy smiling has cheated
The woes of my breast, and so well
The darkness of sorrows defeated,
That nought else on earth could dispel ;
Without thee my being would wither,
And pleasure a bauble would prove,-
Forget not, my sweet, to come hither,
And solace heart by thy love!
my
No. II.
THE SEPARATION.
In youth our hearts together grew,
And Life seem'd Eden to our view;
But disappointment, sighs, and tears,
Were the sole fruits of after years.
The hopes that glitter'd round our way,
With rainbow colours died away ;
The feelings graven on my heart,
Though thwarted all, shall ne'er depart,


504
The Separation.
[Aug
Oh! would that thee I ne'er had seen,
Or that our fate had kinder been !
Oh! would that thou, the dearest-best,
Had been by other lips carest !
Yet know—though, ah! I need not tell-
That he who bids thee now farewell,
Hath loved with all the warmth and zeal
That tongue can tell, or heart can feel !
That thou hast been, for many a year,
Unto his soul the thing most dear;
That thou hast been, all pure and bright,
His thought by day, his dream by night!
That my heart's summer only knew
One flower, and that of matchless hue ;-
That nought, beneath the arching skies,
So won my heart—so charm’d mine eyes.
And also know,-as thus I tear
Love from my heart, to leave it bare,-
Cold as the rock, where flowers ne'er smile,
And barren as a polar isle ;
'Tis only that I love thee more,
And dearer, for these troubles o'er ;
And that I'd hold it crime to mate
Thy goodness with so dark a fate !
No. III.
THE DREARY MOOR.
The blinding rain falls heavily
Upon the wide, waste moor,-
Far, far and onward must I hie
To gain a human door :
The twilight gathers dim and dark ;
The winds and waters jar;
No heart shall leap this night to mark
The glorious evening star!
Yet, as the wind sighs o'er the heath,
And as the rain pours down,
And as the swoln streams rush beneath
Their banks, all weed-o'ergrown,
I think of thee, young Ellen dear, -
I doat on every charm,-
And with such thoughts, 'mid wilds so drear,
Can keep my bosom warm.
I think me of thine eyes so blue,-
Thy lips so cherry-red,-
The glossy curls, of auburn hue,
That cluster round thy head ;-
Thy graceful form, all fairy light;
Thy bosom's snowy heave;
Thy smile, that makes my visions bright,
When prone to droop and grieve.
1


1921.]
Morsels of Melody.
505
Then round my breast my plaid I'll fold,
And bravely face the blast,
Well knowing that my arms shall hold
My own sweet girl at last ;
And that our hearth shall brightly blaze,
To tell me not to roam ;
And that my Ellen's darling gaze
Shall bless my coming home!
No. IV.
THE EVENING LAKE.
How softly o er the silver lake
Our little pinnace glides along,
As if its prow did fear to break
The waveless mirror-all is still
Except the boatman's song!
Fair maid, that from yon castle walls,
Mayhap, now lookest on our way,
Thy tender looks my heart recalls,
Thine anxious eyes, that silently
Did seem to bid me stay !
Far from the world, with thee remote,
While suns did brightly set and rise,
How sweet would be the woodland cot;
Envy and care would be exiled,
And earth seem paradise !
Farewell! ye melancholy towers ;
Ye forests dark, and verdant vales ;
Ye gardens, rich with summer flowers ;
Before I visit ye again,
Far winds must fill my sails.
Maid of my heart! a sad adieu !
When evening suns are beaming bright,
Take of this lake a lingering view,
And think, 'twas last on yonder lake
He faded from my sight!
And oft, on far and foreign shore,
I'll rest alone at eventide ;
In fancy roam these vallies o'er,
And see, within the garden bower,
Thee, sweet, of all the pride!
No. V.
THE MARBLE HEART.
When Love's first flush came o'er my heart,
'Twas when thy beauty seized it;
Nor hath it let that flush depart,
Although thy coldness freezed it.
Thou stood'st before my wondering eyes,
A shape of magic lightness,
And, in my midnight dreams, did rise
Array'a in fairy brightness.
3S
VOL. IX.


506
Morsels of Melody.
[Aug.
But cold, cold, cold, the marble stone
Not snowier, and not colder;
A glory to be gazed upon,
That chill'd the charm'd beholder.
Against thy charms 'tis vain to war,
Tis vain to try resistance;
The kneelers in thy temple are
All kept at holy distance.
But know-for bards may speak the truth-
And list the voice of reason,
Though fair the rosebud be of youth,
'Tis only for a season.
The chilling winds of winter haste
O’er time's rough ocean hither,
And, like the weeds upon the waste,
The fairest rose must wither.
No. VI.
THE EVENING STAR.
On sweetly shines the summer sun,
When heaven from clouds is free,
And brightly gleams the moonlight on
Field, rock, and forest tree:
But to the pensive heart of love,
Oh sweeter than these by far,
It is with devious step to rove
Beneath the evening star!
To others give the festive hall,
Where wine-cups shine in light;
The music of the crowded ball,
With beauty's lustre bright:
But give to me the lonely dell,
Oh sweeter than these by far,
Where pine-trees wave, and waters swell,
Beneath the evening star!
The days are past that I have seen,
And ne'er again shall see,
When Nature, with a brighter green,
O'erspread the field and tree;
Though joyless not the present day,
Yet sweeter than it by far,
'Tis on the past to muse, and stray
Beneath the evening star !
For all the future cannot give
What spareless time hath reft,
And, Jessy, since thou ceased to live,
A vacant world is left.
I turn me to my days of love,
The sweetest on earth by far,
And oft in thought with thee I rove,
Beneath the evening star!


308
Lamb's Translation of Catullus.
[Aug.
Lesbia bemoans in the language of divided between sensual indulgence
real passion; her lamentations will and literary leisure. Notwithstanding
never cease to be affecting while sorrow his improvidence, (for who of this sect
shall claim her prerogative, or anguish ever was prudent,) he does not appear
and desertion go together. But Catul- at any time to have been reduced to
lus has higher pretensions than mere- servile dependance on the resources of
ly to pre-eminence in amatory poetry, a patron, for in the works of no poet
though from the dissipation of his life does there exist a more lofty and dig-
and the turn of his disposition, it oc- nified spirit of independence. There is
cupied the greatest share of his atten- much less of plebeianism, and conse-
tion. Such was the high character of quently less of plebeian cringingness
his powers and inspiration, that no- and adulation in his works than in the
thing but his love of ease and the works of his successors Horace and
shortness of his life could possibly have Virgil, whose extraction was apparent-
prevented him from taking the loftiest ly meaner than that of Catullus. The
station amongst the bards of his coun- latter appears to have somewhat of the
try, a station above even the honoured pride, and much of the elegant taste
seats of Lucretius and Virgil. Of his and ease of the man of family and pa-
possession of the great and absolute trician education; we can almost fancy
characteristics which generate epic we discern in his writings that species
poetry of the highest excellence, subli- of hauteur and recklessness, as to poet-
mity of conception, fervour of imagi- ical fame, which Voltaire attributes to
nation, and energy of thought, his Congreve. There appear, too, in his
Atys, and Peleus, and Thetis, are poetry, at times, traces of that listless
standing proofs; the one is alone peer- ennui, which arises from the indolent
less and unparalleled, and the other carelessness and sickened sensuality of
contains the finest episode in any poem the fashionable debauchee, who has
whatever. Short as these productions misemployed his time, and suffered his
are, they are indications of such a talents to run to waste. Yet there
strength of fancy, and grandeur of seems no reason to doubt that the cha-
invention, as it would be difficult to racter of Catullus was amiable upon
show an example of ; and moreover of the whole. His affection to his brother
such a versatility of genius as no Latin appears too warm and sincere to admit
author except Catullus possessed. Who, of question ; and though undoubtedly
but he, could have shone at once as there are from his writings inconsisten-
the gay trifler and the solemn and su- cies, and inconsistencies too of no very
blime poet-could in one moment have creditablenature, discernible in his cha-
penned bewitchingly playful verses on racter, yet they were perhaps hardly
the sparrow of his mistress, and in the more flagrant than those of every man
next pictured thedesolate and madden- who, with a natural propension to vir.
ing Atys in all the depth of his sorrow tue, is led by example into the com-
and darkness of his gloom?
mission of actions unworthy of it, and
From the personal character of the who, in the zeal which his virtuous
poet, would one seek explanation for propensities produce, does not always
anomalies so singular in composition ; remember in his attackson others, that
yet of that, it is to be lamented little he is chastising them for defects which
is known, and that little chiefly through may also be found in himself. To this
the medium of his works,- a medium cause, must be referred for reconcile-
not always the most favourable to ac- ment, his attacks on Cæsar for incon-
curacy of judgment. In undertaking tinencies which he acknowledges to
many descriptions of poetry characters have practised himself, and his self-
are often assumed, sometimes not very complacent and eulogistic gratulation
congenial to the writer's mind, and to himself for piety, of which he had
thus where there is no authenticated perhaps as little as most poets, and for
memorial or traditional report to con- constancy, which he does not always
troul the author's own expressions, the appear to have preserved.
confusion and inconsistency are often Catullus has been less fortunate than
irremediable. If we judge of Catullus most of the Latin poets, in meeting
by his writings, he appears to have with congenial spirits as his translators.
been a man of voluptuous habits, Numberless as are the versions of his
whose chief study was the gratification detached amatory pieces, we do not
of his passions, and whose time was recollect one which is excellent enough


1821.]
Lamb's Translution of Catullus.
509
to bear comparison with the original, Bard of Verona must be left to the
if we except, perhaps, one or two of chance contributions of such well-dis-
Mr Elton's; and of the whole of his posed persons as time may havein store.
poems but one English translation, The field has long been open ; and for
that of Dr Nott's, is extant, with the the satisfaction of those whose indus-
exception of this present one of Mr trious labours may be in danger of be-
Lamb's. The translation of Dr Nott, ing prevented by the present transla-
we believe, has long been acknowled- tion, we inform them it is open still.
ged to be unsuccessful ; it is in fact a The work commences with a poeti-
meagre and inelegant paraphrase, with- cal address to the reader, which the
out any transfusion of the graces of author intitles, “ Reflections before
poetry or felicities of diction. If it have Publication.” The beginning is ami-
any merit, it is that of adhering to the able enough.
simplicity of the original, without dis-
“ The pleasing task, which oft a calm has
torting it by that wretched finicalness
lent
with which bad taste depraves the To lull disease and soften discontent;
structure it aims to embellish. Nor do Has still made busy life's vacations gay,
foreign translators seem to have suc And saved from idleness the leisure day:
ceeded much better with our author. In many a musing walk and Jone retreat,
The late French translation of Molle. That task is done ;-I may not say, com-
vaut is unworthy of its original, and plete.”
the Italian one of Puccini has not much Nor will we. These reasons are good
more of the spirit of Catullus. And, enough, if the author intend them as
indeed, we can hardly wonder at this. an excuse for writing the book, but
We know no Latin author who pre- very bad ones, if meant as a justifica-
sents so many difficulties in the way of tion for publishing it.
translation as the Lover of Lesbia. He, The stray moments which Mr Lamb
more than any other poet, is gifted can spare from his politics and profes-
with that light and ineffable grace, sion, may be very creditably spent in
that easy, yet intranslateable elegancy amusements of this description ; but
and spirit, which mocks all attempts that is no reason why the valuable
of the kind, and expires like the beau- moments of others should be consumed
tiful and delicate shrubs of the south, in attending to them. Let them satis-
when transplanted to the gardens of fy their purposes, and be put by with
a less luxurious climate. There are the other equally meritorious occupa-
charms in language, which to endea- tions of his leisure hours. It is not
vour to rifle is as dangerous as to touch from the dull remnants of time, which
the rose, which, while you pluck it, may be left to a jaded and spiritless
falls in pieces. Of such a cast are those mind, after the pursuit of an harass-
of Catullus. He who undertakes the ing study, that the fervid and recon-
office of translator to this author, has dite flashes of poetry can meet with a
not only to struggle with the difficule corresponding warmth to represent and
ties of idiomatic delicacies, which, transtuse them. All that can be ex-
through the variations of language, pected from moments so employed,
are inextractible, and of modes of ex even when the translator is possessed
pression, which are confined through of a tolerable portion of taste and fan-
the peculiarities of feeling—but has also cy, is an equable and uninspirited pa-
need of great and varied poetical pow- raphrase, suffused, perhaps, with a rea-
ers. Mr Moore, we believe, has been sonable portion of elegance; and ele-
recommended to take this poet in hand, gance is but a poor substitute for ex-
and we might also subjoin a recom- quisitely beautiful poetry. But to pro-
mnendation of our own, did we not ceed with the Introduction; Mr Lamb,
think it a thankless matter to persuade after conjuring up, by the force of his
a great original poet, “ to comment bad translations, a very efficacious spell!
and translate.” And even he, how. After raising up, by means of these po-
ever capable of translating the lighter tent witcheries, the old Bard of Vero-
and amatory graces of Catullus, would, na for his and our satisfaction, is sud-
we think, hardly do justice to his lof- denly suprised by an apparition.
tier and more energetic flights. It is “ Ha, what dark shape? I view that form
not, however, very likely that he will
with awe
ever make the trial, and therefore the Which calls itself the Genius of the Law!


510
Lamb's Translation of Catullus.
[Aug.
His well-wigg'd visage, wrapt from crown accepting with eagerness and relying with
to chin
hope upon her proffered vow of constancy.
In clouds without, to shew there's none Nothing can be more genuine than the
within ;
rapture with which he depicts his happi.
On calf-skin volumes at each step he stands, ness in her hours of affection ; nor than the
Toil-blanch'd his cheeks, and ink-imbrued gloomy despair with which he is over-
his hands;
whelmed, when he believes himself resol.
And points the Sergeant's patch, which ved to quit her for ever. Were these
blots afar
poems collected together, as by Cowley in
The distant day-light, like a sable star." - The Mistress,' (an idea to which they
This legal Hyperionenters, of course, fal picture could be found of the unde-
possibly gave rise,) no more true or natu-
into a remonstrance with Mr Lamb, on fined and inconsistent feelings which ever
the classical aberrations which have arise from the intercourse of devoted love
mísled his footsteps, and enquires very with profligate in constancy."
properly,
The poems which first strike the
“ Was mine a call to climb the Aonian reader, on opening the works of Ca-
Hills ?
tullus, are those on the Sparrow of
Do I teach harmony to legal quills ?”. Lesbia. The terms of admiration have
When Catullus very opportunely steps been so often applied to these two ex-
in for the defence of his translator, quisite performances, that their povel-
and after arguing the matter over to- ty and propriety have long since cea-
gether, the two break up the confer- sed. They are, perhaps, the last things
ence, apparently very well pleased with in the whole circle of Latin poetry
themselves, and each other.
which a scholar could consent to give
A Preface of some length next fol- up. Beautiful, indeed, and engaging
lows, which contains an examination is the union they present, of playful.
of the accounts transmitted to us of the ness of fancy, tenderness of feeling,
life of Catullus, a classification of his purity of diction, and devotedness of
different Poems, and a discussion on love. The mind which can seek to
their relative excellency and merit. fasten on them the stain of impurity,
There is no new light thrown on any must have some innate leaning to the
of the difficulties which have perplex- tendencies which it professes to disco-
ed preceding commentators and ver. In the language of Catullus, they
translators, though Mr Lamb has ma are flowers of fair and matchless love
naged to fall into some new inaccura- liness; and in that language, we be-
cies, which certainly escaped them. lieve, they must remain. Woe to the
There is nevertheless an unpretend- luckless hand, which, in emptying the
ing ease in the style, which renders it old wine into new vessels, suffers all
at least readable. As we wish to fa- its most precious particles to escape.
vour Mr Lamb, we will give what we What Mr Lamb's success has been,
conceive to be the best paragraph. the following translation, from the
" There is no feeling more overpower-
inost beautiful of them, will shew.
ing or painful than that which springs from "ON THE DEATH OF THE SPARROW.
a conviction of the utter worthlessness of a
beloved object, when the infatuated heart
“ Mourn, all ye loves and graces ; mour,
cannot, at the same time, admit the con- Death from my fair her bird has torn,
Ye wits, ye gallant, and ye gay;
tempt which worthlessness merits. Then
the highest enjoyments of life can only be
Her much-loved Sparrow's snatch'd
oblained by conscious abasement: solitude
away.
depresses without soothing, society irritates “ Her very eyes she prized not so ;
without exhilarating ; while smiles are al For he was fond, and knew my fair
loyed, and frowns are embittered, by shame Well as young girls their mothers know;
and self-reproach at being subject to their Flew to her breast, and nestled there.
influence. We find Catullus at one time
upbraiding Lesbia bitterly with her licen-
“ When fluttering round from place to
tiousness; then bidding her farewell for
place,
ever ; then beseeching from the gods reso-
He gaily chirp'd to her alone ;
lution to cast her off,
then weakly confess. He now that gloomy path must trace,
ing utter impotence mind, and submis.
Whence Fate permits return to none.
sion to hopeless slavery; then, in the Epis. “ Accursed shades o'er hell that lower,
tle to Manlius, persuading himself by rea. Oh be my curses on you heard !
son and example into a contented acquies- Ye, that all pretty things devour,
cence in her falsehoods; and yet, at last, Have tom from me my pretty bird.


1821.]
Lamb's Translation of Catullus.
511
TO CASTOR AND POLLUX.
erst
« Oh evil deed! oh Sparrow dead ! quality which it possesses remains un-
Oh what a wretch, if thou canst see changed. The playfulness is turned to
My fair one's eyes with weeping red,
And know how much she grieves for tion of past joys, to frigid tameness;
inanity-the ardour at the recollec-
thee."
and the touching tenderness of grief,
If any of our readers can peruse, to the blubbering childishness of a
with common patience, such lines as schoolboy. What a translation is the
these, after calling to memory the in- following, of the exquisitely mournful
imitable original, wemust acknowledge conclusion ?
that their power of endurance is great-
er than our own.
" Whose fondling care shalt thou avow ?
Whose kisses now shalt thou return?
The next poem, the Phaselus, is more
Whose lip in rapture bite? -But thou-
tolerably translated. We will give the
Hold! hold! Catullus, cold and stern."
first four stanzas.
Hold! Hold! Mr Lamb! we must
DEDICATION OF A PINNACE,
rather say, if he can find us no better
verses than these. Can we possiblyima-
“ That pinnace, friends, can boast that gine that such drivelling yapidity as this
'Twas swiftest of its kind;
has any resemblance to the original? or
Nor swam the bark whose fleetest burst
is he blind to the fact that he is mur-
It could not leave behind;
dering, absolutely murdering, one of
Whether the toiling rower's force,
the finest poets of antiquity?
Or swelling sail, impell'd its course.
We observe Mr Lamb has taken
“This boast, it dares the shores that bound very considerable liberties with some
The Adrian's stormy space,
of the less modest poems of Catullus ;
The Cyclad islands sea-girt round,
we mean particularly the Address to
Bright Rhodes, or rugge:1 Thrace;
Aurelius and Furius. Now we should
The wide Propontis to gainsay,
be very loth, most assuredly, to have
Or still tempestuous Pontic bay.
these poems exhibited to English eyes
“ There, ere it swam 'mid feetest prowe, ly must we protest against such a me-
in all their native grossness; yet equal-
А
grove
of spreading trees
On high Cytorus' hill, its boughs
thod of translation, as in rendering
Oft whisper'd in the breeze.
them less offensive, totally changes
Amastris, pride of Pontic foods,
their character. Let him pass them
Cytorus, green with boxen woods. over in his translation ; or, if he must
“ Ye knew it then, and all its race,
meddle with them, let him place his im-
And know the pinnace too,
itations at the end of the book amongst
Which, from its earliest rise, to grace his notes. The English reader will
Thy lofty summit grew;
then learn to appreciate properly the
And in the waves that wash thy shore, value of Mr Lamb's exertions, and to
Which moisten'd first its sturdy oar.' distinguish, with accuracy, between the
In the Address to Lesbia, which translated morsels and the original re-
follows, Mr Lamb improves still more;
past which he provides.
we wish we could say the habit of im-
The only bacchanaliam poem in Ca-
provement continued as the book, pro- We quote the translation of it as a fa-
tullus, is the Address to his Cup-bearer.
ceeded. But if we did, we should
it in the teeth of notorious proof to the vourable specimen of the book :-
contrary; what, for instance, is the
" TO HIS CUPBEARER.
translation of the Address of Catullus
to himself, but a most lamentable dis-
Boy, who in my festive home
Mak'st the rich Falernian foam,
tortion of the original. In this little
Broach my oldest wine, and pour
poem, the author playfully, yet touch-
Till the goblet mantles o'er.
ingly, remonstrates with himself for
Gay Postumia thus ordains,
still pursuing his inconstant Lesbia; When she at my banquet reigns.
and while he indulges himself in remi Not the juice that swells its shape
niscences of the happy and delightful Is, so native to the grape,
moments they had passed together, As the draught that fills the bowl
summons up all his resolution to for Is congenial to her soul
sake her, yet so as to shew, at the same “ Hence, ye waters ! hence abstain,
time, how much he distrusts it. In the Generous liquor's chilly bane !
present translation, not one feature of Hence, where'er it please you, flow!
the original is preserved-not a single Hence, to surly wisdom go!


512
Lamb's Translution of Catullus.
[Aug.
own.
Pure this draught, as from the vine fair flower, and rifled all its sweetness.”
Bacchus' self had press'd the wine.” He appears to haveelaborated histrans-
We will pass over the rest of the lation considerably, but we are not pre-
sınaller poems, and come directly to pared to say that he has laboured with
the Epithalamium, or the Marriage of much success.
Manlius and Julia. Mr Lamb appears
MAIDENS.
here to have caught something of the “ When in the garden's fenced and cul-
beauty of the original, and has really
tured ground,
given a very respectable version of it. Where browse no flocks, where plough.
We have no room, however, for any
shares never wound,
quotation. The next poem we cannot By sunbeams strengthen'd, nourished by
so entirely pass over. It contains, as
the shower,
our readers well know, the delightful And, sooth'd by zephyr, blooms the love-
comparison Ut Flos in Septis, &c. of Maids long to place it in their modest zone,
all the writers of antiquity, Catullus, And youths, enraptured, wish it for their
we think, has the most admirable si-
miles. He made use of none which he But, from the stem once pluck’d, in dust
had not selected with the most scru-
it lies,
pulous nicety—of none which were not Nor youth nor maid will then desire or
excellent; some, indeed, are admira prize.
ble. To those which he had taken from The virgin thus her blushing beauty rears,
others, he gave such an additional lus- Loved by her kindred and her young com-
tre, as to make them his own. Gene-
peers;
rally, however, his comparisons are But, if her simple charm, her maiden grace,
original ; and whether original or bor- Is sullied by one spoiler’s rude embrace,
rowed, they are never inserted with Adoring youths no more her steps attend,
out producing a beautiful effect. We Oh Hymen, hear! Oh, sacred Hymen,
Nor loving maidens greet the maiden friend.
know some, though in themselves ex haste;
cellent, have been considered, by cri- Come, god and guardian of the fond and
tics, as strained and out of place; but chaste !
we think, that even in the passages
which have given rise to remarks of
" As in the naked field the vine's weak
this sort, the allusion, though recon-
shoot
dite, will ever be found to be well sus- Nor lifts its languid stem, nor glows with
tained. Indeed, we do not remember
fruit;
a single simile in the poems of Catul. But by itself weigh'd down it lowly strays,
lus, which is not equally remarkable And on its roots its highest tendril lays:
for appropriate meaning, as for its own The herdsmen then, the passing hinds,
intrinsic elegance. None of these si. neglect
miles are more beautiful than this of the lowly vine, nor cherish nor proteet.
the flower, “ which wastes its sweet. If by some happy chance its feeble boughs,
ness in the desert air.” It has been Twined round the trunk, shall make the
abundantly imitated and praised ; and, No herdsmen then, nor passing hinds, ne-
elm a spouse;
perhaps, as Mr Lamb observes, equal-
Iy to its merit. The very elegant
and The wedded vine, but cherish and protect,
glect
spirited imitation in the Beggar's Ope- So scorn’d the maid, who flies the fond
ra,
“ Virgins are like the fair flower
embrace,
in its lustre," is too well known to need And withering adds no honours to her race.
quoting. It is, what few imitations So is the fair beloved, who binds her fate,
are, more sprightly even than its ori- In wedlock chaste, to some accordant mate:
ginal, but is much inferior to it in sim- She gives the joys that warm her husband's
ple beauty. The exquisite passage in
breast,
Otway's Orphan, “ You took her up a And doting parents by her bliss are blest."
little tender flower,” though undoubt When we first got Mr Lamb's Ca-'
edly suggested by this simile, yet can tullus into our hands, we turned eager-
hardly be styled an imitation. It is a ly to examine his Translation of the
beautiful illustration of the original Átys, which follows next in the col-
idea, and may fairly vie with the La- lected works of that poet. It is the
tin passage. The reader will be desi- most extraordinary poem that classical
rous to see what Mr Lamb made of literature has to shew, nor has modern
this gem of poetry, and whether he composition any thing which may be
has, as in other places, “ cropped this likened or compared to it. In this
" YOUTHS.
3


1821.]
Lamb's Translation of Catullus.
513
short production, Catullus has touch, that of the King of the Cockneys, (it is
ed the strings of poetry with a mastery really lamentable to sce this poor man
of skill, and strength of execution, translating,) has certainly nothing of
that no Latin poet has rivalled, from Catullus, whatever it may have of
Lucretius to Claudian. In it he has Cockaigne. We think the metre which
sounded an instrument not native to Mr Lamb has adopted is jucliciously
his language, and called forth all its chosen, and well adapted for express-
deepness of tones, and richness of me- ing the hurried march of the original.
lody. The magnificence of its bursts The execution, we regret to say, is
of passion are only to be equalled by very unsatisfactory and feeble. We
the nature of its descriptions, and the quote the lamentation of Atys, which
plaintiveness of its dying falls. The is the best part of the translation:-
reader is carried irresistibly along by
the torrent of words which rushes pro-
“ My country, oh my mother! creatress,
fundo ore in the loftiest style of Pinda parent earth!
ric grandeur. The spirit of ancient My country, oh my nurse, that fed me
energy suffuses and animates the whole, From whom, as churlish slaves their kind-
from my birth!
and mantles it round with majesty. It
ly lord have fled,
is as awful as the groves which it com- To Ida's gloomy woods an exile I have
memorates, and as agitated as the songs sped,
which were wont to awake them. In With beasts their frozen dens for my abode
short, never did inspiration breathe to share,
forth more genuine and impassioned And madly roaming, rouse the fierce one
from his lair.
sublimity ;-never burst there from
poetry or prophecy a strain more pe-
Ah! where, in what far point of this sur-
culiar, energetic, and commanding. *
rounding sky,
In translating this most singular relick Shall I now deem, my native land, thy
lov'd shores lie?
of antiquity, besides the ordinary dif- My longing eyeballs strain to cast their
ficulties which always attend transla-
sight to thee,
tion, others must be encountered which While yet awhile my mind is from its
are perhaps insuperable. The ques frenzy free.
tionable delicacy of the subject is hard-
“ Must I for dreary woods forsake my
ly felt in the perusal of the Roman
native shore,
original, but presents a most formi- And see my friends, my home, my parents
dable obstacle to a translator, unless
never more ?
casts of feeling could as well admit of No more the Forum seek, the gay Pales-
transfusion as casts of language. The tra's court,
labour of Catullus was to clothe with The Stadium, urge no more each famed
elevation a topic merely indifferent, gymnastic sport?
and untinged, according to the then Oh, wretched, wretched man ! while years
prevailing manner, with any definite shall slowly roll
or dignified idea ; but he who now fol. For ever o'er and o’er again, grieve, grieve,
lows in his footsteps has, what is of all
tasks the most difficult, first to divest “ What grace, what beauty is there, that
a subject of its inherent ludicrous cha I did not enjoy ?
racter, and then to raise it to dignity. I, when in manhood's prime, a youth, or
Of these difficulties Mı Lamb seems to yet a boy,
be fully aware. To use his own words, The flower of all who trod the firm gym.
when we review the high testimo-
nastic soil,
nies of its unrivalled inspiration, and The victor ʼmid the crowd who wore the
wrestler's oil.
almost the denunciations against those My gates were ever throng'd, and full my
who should attempt any sort of imita threshold swarm'd;
tion, diffidence becomes despair.” The With blooming garlands hung, that love-
former translations of this poem may sick maidens form'd;
all be styled total failures. The ver. My mansion gaily glitter'd each morning,
sions of Beloe, Hodgson, and Nott, as I sped,
have hardly a particle of the life, ener-
At earliest blush of sunrise, with lightness
gy, and character of the original; and from my bed.
my soul!
We know several critics have agreed to consider this poem as a translatiob from
the Greek ; but we hardly think it fair to assent to such a conclusion, merely on conjec-
tural grounds. It has too much freshness and spirit to be other than original.
Vol. IX.
3 T


1821. )
Lamb's Translation of Catullus.
515
" TO LESBIA.
She says it : But I deem
such an event may happen, he who
That what the fair to lovers swear will take the trouble of examining Mr
Should be inscribed upon the air, Lamb, in page 92 of his second vo-
Or in the running stream.”
lume, will, we have little doubt, be
The next is but a feeble dilution of convinced.
the original, though Mr Lamb has en But to bring our observations to a
deavoured to twist the conclusion into close. We believe these two elegantly
something like the pointed brevity of printed volumes must follow the fate
Catullus :
of many other translations, equally de-
serving, though destitute of the same
exterior recommendation. We cers
• No fair was ever yet so dear
tainly have not been able to find in
As thou, my Lesbia, wert to me;
No faith was ever so sincere
them any peculiar merit as a redemp-
tion from that lot to which mediocrity
As that which bound my heart to thee.
in 'translation is subject. If fidelity,
“ Now even by thy frailties caught, in any sense of the word, be necessary
So straitly is my will confined ; in performances of this sort, then is Mr
The tender duties it hath wrought Lamb most egregiously deficient. He
So wholly have enslaved my mind;
is, in fact, equally unfaithful to the
“ Practise each virtue o'er and o'er, meaning, the poetry, and the charac,
Or every vice in turn approve,
ter of his original. To the meaning he
Nor that could make me love thee more, is not faithful, for his paraphrase is
Nor this could make me cease to love.” not only loose, but very often capri-
- One of the most beautiful of these ciously and indefensibly inaccurate.
minor poems is the one addressed to To the poetry he is not faithful, for
Calvus on the Death of Quintilia. The not one of the finer and more beauti-
touching simplicity of the original is ful passages of his author have been
above all praise. The notion of the rendered with any thing like the spi-
departed spirit of the mistress, tender- rit of a poet, or even that reflected
ly watching over the sorrow of the lo- glow which is sometimes caught from
To the.character he is likewise
ver, and rejoicing at the proofs of his one.
affection, every heart must acknow- not faithful, for no one, on reading
ledge to be beautiful. It has been the present translation, can discern any
often adopted, but never expressed
of those distinguishing marks which
with more sweet and melancholy pa- native force, and sometimes coarse-
peculiarize the Latin original. The
thos. The translation is very inferior,
but we will quote it for the gratifica- ness, are melted down to most lament-
tion of our readers :
able and unqualified weakness, and the
significant conciseness, and laconic bre-
“ TO CALVUS, ON THE DEATH or vity, are dissipated amidst plethoric
redundance and expansion. Yet there
“ Calvus, if any joy from mortal tears are some translations which, however
Can touch the feelings of the silent dead; undeserving of praise as versions mere-
When dwells regret on loves of former ly, have great and undoubted merit,
years,
when considered as original pieces of
Or weeps o'er friendships that have long poetry. Mr Lamb's claim to approba-
been fled,
tion we apprehend can hardly rest on
* Oh! then far less will be Quintilia's woe this ground. He gives us neither the
At early death and fate's severe decree, poetry of his original, nor any other
Than the pure pleasure she will feel to poetry of any sort; and whether we re-
know
How well, how truly she was loved by of his author, or exhibiting an original
gard him as following in the footsteps
thee.”
flight of his own, he appears equally
Of another of these poems, Mure- unfortunate. On the whole, then, we
tus, the elegant commentator, and ad- believe the circulation of the work
mirable imitator of Catullus, has ob- must be limited to those libraries to
served, “ Ita venustum hoc epigram- which good paper and elegant type are
ma est, ut ipsa si velit Venus venusti. an admission, and to those readers who
us eo efficere quicquam non queat.” have never read Catullus, and never
When beauties so abound, one would felt the charm of genuine and classi-
think it would be hardly possible in cal poetry.
translating to miss them all. That To conclude. Mr Lamb has alle
QUINTILIA.


516
[Aug.
Lamb's Translation of Catullus.
ged, in defence of his extra-profession- powers, sufficient, if well husbanded,
al studies, the names of Sir William to secure to them a reasonable propor.
Blackstone, Sir William Jones, and tion of success in the departmentwhich
others, whose eminence was doubly they have selected, are led by that
secured by the possession of strong siekly craving after forbidden fruit,
powers of reason, with rich gifts of which is always the concomitant of a
fancy, of great legal learning, joined diseased and dissipated state of mind,
with great classical taste. And it is to waste their little modicum of talent
with triumph we acknowledge, that in a fruitless and inconsistent applica-
amongst the members of that arduous tion of it; who, with merely enough
profession, many may be named whose of law to deaden their poetry, and
predominance was not less striking in merely enough of poetry to vitiate their
their own peculiar field, than in the law, have sufficient of neither to save
variegated and more luxuriant domain them from that contumely which fail-
of poetry and polite literature, and ure always is productive of, and who
who, the head of one department, and amphibiously changing from element
the honour of the other, have opened to element, and unceasingly multiply-
the ancient urns of classical inspira- ing disgrace upon disgrace, hang for
tion, to freshen, enrich, and fertilize ever suspended and unstable in a fool's
the barrenness of a most barren study. paradise of their own, where, after
That there have been, and are still dreaming of honours from the body of
such men, no one can deny. These lawyers, and of laurels from the body
are, however, but few in number. of bards, they awake at last only to
There are others infinitely more nume- find themselves derided as weak-mind-
rous, and we are not sure that the pre- ed deserters by the one, and rejected
sent work does not afford us an example as unlicensed intruders by the other.
of one of those, who, with moderate
THE FLORIDA PIRATE.
A series of misfortunes had unex- quite sure," returned he, “ but I ra-
pectedly thrown me upon a foreign ther suspect she's a pirate. Those on
land, and entirely deprived me of the board of her are mostly blacks, and
means of subsistence. I knew not they seem very anxious to keep out of
where to apply for relief, or how to sight. Had she been a fair trader, she
avoid the alarming evils that threaten- would have come into the harbour at
ed me on every side. I was on one of once.
the Bahama islands. I could not en This information startled me a good
joy the temporary asylum I then pos- deal. I became excessively agitated
sessed longer than two days, without without knowing the reason ; and felt
involving myself in debts which I was an anxious desire to repress some idea,
unable to pay, and consequently bring that had, as it were, arisen in my mind,
ing my person under the power of in- without my being conscious of its ex-
dividuals, who, I was inclined to sus istence.
pect, had nothing humane or generous I left my informant, and seated my.
in their characters. I wandered along self under a cliff. Half of the sun had
the sea-shore, sometimes shuddering disappeared below the horizon... I
at the dreariness of my prospects, and watched his descending orb, and wish-
sometimes trembling lest the horrors ed I could retard the flight of time,
of want should urge me to obtain the when I reflected, that, after the lapse
necessaries of life by concealing from of two days, I should perhaps be des-
others that I was in absolute poverty. titute of an asylum, and perishing from
When about a mile distant from the want. “Something must be done, " I
small town where I lodged, my atten- exclaimed, starting up: “ If these are
tion was attracted by a schooner lying pirates, I will join them. My profes-
at anchor behind a projecting point of sion will enable me to render them
land. I knew that vessels did not usu- valuable services. I shall be guilty of
ally moor in such a situation, and in- no crime in doing so ;-the law of na-
quired at a fisherman, whom I met on ture compels me to violate the laws of
the beach, if he could tell me what man.” I looked anxiously towards the
the schooner did there? “ I am not schooner, which lay within half a mile


518
The Florida Pirate.
[Aug.
66
sired me to write an order for my port- as was evident from the indentations
manteau, that he might send one of exhibited by their flesh.
his men to bring it on board. I obey On awaking the second morning of
ed him, and also enclosed the sum I the voyage, I found that Manuel was
owed the persons with whom I had still asleep. The difficulty of the na-
resided. Shortly after the messenger vigation had obliged him to keep on
returned the crew began to heave up deck all night, that he might direct
the anchor; and we soon put to sea the course of the vessel, and he was
with a light wind, and gradually re- now reposing himself after the fatigues
ceded from the shores of the island. of his long watch. The crew were
I breakfasted in the cabin with Ma- preparing breakfast, and conversing
nuel. His manner was chilly and su- together.
percilious; and he had more dignity Some dispute took place about the
about him than any negro I had ever distribution of the provisions, and one
before seen. The want of his right hand of them called the other a rascally run-
made his person very striking; and he away. “ You lie,” cried the accused
seemed aware of this: tor when he ob- person, “I guess you're something
served me gazing on the mutilated worse yourself, Philip.”—“ You had
arm, he frowned, and enveloped it in as well be quiet, Antony. Has any
the folds of the table-cloth.
body any thing to say against me
We lost sight of land in a few hours, Why, that you're a Yankey slave,
but I knew not where we were bound, that's all," returned Philip.-" Damn
and Manuel's reserved behaviour pre- you,” cried he, “ I'm a free man-yes,
vented me from making any inquiry. free and independent.” Here they ali
He walked upon deck all day with laughed loudly, and he demanded with
folded arms, and scarcely ever raised fury who would venture to contradict
his eyes, except to look at the compass, bim, or to assert that he had a master.
or give directions to the helmsman. “ Why, we know well enough you
The schooner, which was named the ha'n't a master now, you pricked him
Esperanza, was about one hundred and under the ribs,” replied one of the
twenty tons burden, carried six guns, crew. This excited another laugh,
and had forty-three men on board of and Antony cried, “ Curse you for a
her, and several boys. There appearnigerbelike I'll do the same to you.”
ed to be very little discipline among “ Don't be calling me a niger," said
the crew; all of whom amused them- Philip, “I was born in the States."-
selves in any way, and in any place, “I would'nt believe it,” said Antony,
they chose, except when the working " for you know no more than if you
of the vessel required their attention. was fresh off the coast-You can't
The presence of the captain did not roast corn."
impose any restraint upon them; and “ Come, let us to breakfast," inter-
one, who was called the mate, snatch- rupted another, “and leave these two
ed a chart unceremoniously from his black sheep to fight together, as soon
hand, and told him he did not know as they can pick up courage."--" I'm
what he was about, without receiving sure you've nothing to say, Mandin-
any reproof for his insolence. A num- go," cried Antony; “ you can't tell
ber of the negroes lay round the fire, where you came from.” -“ To be sure
roasting ears of Indian corn, which I can," answered Mandingo, “I w.s
were eagerly snatched off the embers very ill used by my master, and made
the moment they were ready. An ex- my escape.”-“ Yes, from the gal-
pression of disgusting sensuality cha, lows,” cried one of the crew, to the
racterized this part of the crew; and great amusement of the others.
they looked as if they were strangers "I guess there's ne'er a man on
to retrospection and anticipation, and board this schooner whose life can be
felt existence only in so far as the pass- better looked into than mine," said :
ing moment was concerned. One man, negro, who had not before spoken-
of a mild aspect, sat a distance from “ I was born in a Christian country,
the others, and played upon an old and when I was twenty years old, a
guitar. Many were half naked, and great army captain made me his ser.
I could distinguish the marks of the vant. I had the care of all his money
whip on the shoulders of some of them. and clothes, and could do what I plea-
The limbs of others had been distort- sed. I went to plays and consorts, and
ed by the weight and galling of fetters, was so like a gentleman that a white


1821.)
The Florida Pirate.
519
mistress fell in love with me, and we dashing of the oars, and the rustling
were married.-What agrand sight the of fields of Indian corn, shaken by
marriage was ! My master gave me a the wind. The most delicious per-
gold ring to put on my wife's finger.” fumes filled the air, and fruits of dif-
.“ And did you put it on her fin- ferent kinds, that had apparently just
ger ?" demanded Antony." Why dropt from the tree, floated past us,
do you ask that?”—“Because I guess silently proclaiming the luxuriance of
from the look of your shins, that the region that bordered both sides of
you put it on your own leg.” The the river.
whole crew joined a loud laugh, I sat in the stern of the boat beside
and looked at the limb of the first Manuel, but neither of us spokea word.
speaker, which was strongly galled by The emotions produced by the sur-
fetters. “ It must have been a pretty rounding objects were so delightful,
heavy ring,” said Antony," and yet, that the mind contentedly remained
for all the gold that was in it, I dare- in a state of passiveness, receiving,
say you was glad to get quit of it.”— without resistance, every idea that pre-
“I've done,” returned the object of sented itself. Within the space of an
their ridicule ; “ I'll say no more. I hour, I had exchanged the confine-
thought I was speaking to gentlemen.” ment and pitching of a vessel, the mo-
-"Never mind him. We are allliable to notony of a sea prospect, and the noise
flesh-marks,” observed Philip. “There and brutality of a set of criminals, for
now, what say you of our captain's the harmony of wood and water-the
wanting a
Hush, hush,"in- richness of vegetable perfumes, and
terrupted Mandingo, " that is a sore the quiet enjoyment of an inspiring
subject."
summer's night.
In the course of three days, we When we had got about two miles
came in sight of the north shore of above the mouth of the river, the men
Cuba; but to my great satisfaction had disembarked, and began to cut wood
not met with a single vessel of any at a little distance from us. “I believe
description. Manuel hourly became my people are out of hearing,” said Ma-
less reserved, and we often had long nuel, after a long pause,
k and while
conversations together; and one even we wait for their return, I shall tell
ing he promised to relate the history you something about my past life.
of his life to me, the first favourable “I need not give you a ininute ac-
opportunity
count of my early years, as they were
After cruizing about for a week, we not distinguished by any thing re-
cast anchor at the mouth of the Xibara markable. My mother came from the
harbour, which lies near the eastern ex- coast of Africa, but I was born in
tremity of Cuba. Our object in doing so South Carolina, where my master had
was to obtain a supply of firewood from a large estate, in the cultivation of
the banks of a small river that disem, which more than one hundred negroes
bogues into the harbour. Manuel re were employed. My mother being a
quested me to accompany the party house-servant, was exempted from
destined for this purpose, as he was to many of the hardships and privations
command it; and at a late hour one to which the other slaves were expo-
night we set out in a boat, along with sed, but she owed the comparative com-
seven of the crew.
fort of her situation entirely to her ca-
The weather was clear, calm, and pability of ministering to the voluptu-
delightful ; and we soon entered the ousness of Mr Sexton, who was much
river, and rowed slowly up its wind- addicted to the pleasures of the table.
ings. The banks were for the most He gave orders that I should be brought
part thickly covered with trees, which up within doors, as he intended me for
over-arched us completely, and ren a waiting man.
dered it so dark that Manuel could “ After I had attained the age of
scarcely see to steer the boat. We sixteen years, I was obliged to be in
sometimes could discern far before us, continual attendance upon my master,
a portion of the sky vividly reflected and to submit quietly to all his ca-
in the bosom of the stream-bright prices. The treatment I received from
and dazzling, amidst the surrounding him, and the knowledge I acquired of
gloom, as the contrast of divine puri- his character, made me feel what a de-
ty with mortal corruption. Nota sound grading thing slavery was. Had I been
could be heard, except the regular forced to work in the fields, like the


520
The Florida Pirate.
[Aug.
other negroes, I might not perhaps have listened to these details with the deep-
repined at my condition, because I est attention, which pleased him so
would have known nothing better, and much, that he offered to teach me to
at the same time believed that my condi- read. I gladly availed myself of his
tion was irremediable, and consistent instructions, and profited so much
with the laws of nature. But being con- by them, that in the course of five or
tinually in the presence of Mr Sexton, six months, I was able to peruse the
and of other white people, and daily newspapers which my master received
hearing their conversation, I soon disco- from different parts of the Union ;
vered that they were superior to us in many of them contained paragraphs
nothing but knowledge; that they were upon the subject of slavery, and I was
mean, wicked, cruel, and unjust; and delighted to find that some men ex-
that they sometimes feared we would claimed against it, and denied that
assert our rights, and overpower them white people had the least right to
by numbers.
tyrannize over negroes.
“ They seemed to consider negroes “I used often to steal into my mas-
as creatures who were destitute of souls ter's room, when he slept, and read
and understandings. Though I felt the New York Journals. One after-
indignant when I heard these opinions noon he caught me with one in my
uttered, I was aware that I derived hand, and demanded angrily what I
some advantage from their being acted was doing. I told him I was reading.
upon ; for my master and his friends, He struck me a violent blow on the
not believing that I could comprehend head with his cane, and said he would
a sentence of their conversation, felt order me forty lashes if I ever again
no restraint when I was present, and looked at a book or newspaper. He
thus afforded me an opportunity of soon discovered that the old negro had
hearing their sentiments upon every been my teacher, and immediately
subject, and becoming acquainted with sent him off the estate, not being able
their principles and characters. to inflict any other punishment, in
“ Often, while waiting at table, and consequence of his having purchased
listening to their disgusting opinions, his freedom.
I have been called forward by one of “Next day, a neighbouring planter
them, and struck severely on the face, called upon Mr Sexton, and the latter,
for some trivial mistake I had com- in the course of conversation, said,
mitted in serving him with food or "What do you think I caught that
wine. In South Carolina, the guests young hell-dog doing the other night?
do not hesitate to chastise their enter- He was reading a newspaper. The
tainer's
s servants, whenever they feel other broke into a loud laugh, and
inclined ; and a party of white people cried, " Why did'nt you kill him?
there, often make the cursing and Were any of my negroes able to read,
beating of the slaves in attendance I would soon flog the scholarship out
their chief employment during dinner. of them. Why, the little devil will
On such occasions, the burning tears begin to direct you how to manage
of resentment would rush into my your estate bye and bye.'—' Oh, I'll
eyes, I would tremble with ill-dissem- bring him to his senses,' returned my
bled rage, and implore the God of my master; · Hark ye, fellow,' continued
fathers' to let loose his rage upon my he, addressing himself to me; ' If
tormentors, although I should become you ever look at a printed paper again,
its victim along with them.
I'll put out your eyes with a red-hot
“There was an old free negro upon poker. The whole of your duty is to
the plantation, who had travelled clean the knives, and wait at table.
through the Northern States of Ame-- Damn me, if I don't make it pretty bad
rica. He could read and write tole- for any fellow of mine who does either
rably well, and knew a good deal more or less than I want him to do.'
about the countries he had visited. “ I easily perceived that my master
I happened to become a favourite of and his friend were aware that their
his, and he often gave me minute ac- strength lay in our ignorance, and fear-
counts of the condition of the Afric ed lest the slightest acquisition of
cans who lived in New York, and con- knowledge should enable us to disco-
trasted their independence with the ab- ver that they had not a shadow of
ject state of our race every where else. I right to enslave and tyrannize over
9


1821.
)
The Floridu Pirate.
521
our race. What excuse is there for the specting my absence should he discover
oppressor, when he is conscious of be- it, and likewise secure me from any
ing guilty of oppression !
risk of suffering punishment on her
" As my ideas expanded, my sie account. I willingly became a channel
tuation gradually became more intoler- of communication between the two
able. I had no one to whom I could lovers, for I hoped by doing so to be
communicate my thoughts. My fel. able to forward my own views.
low-slaves were so ignorant and des “ One day I ventured to hint to
graded, that I could hardly look at Miss Sexton that I expected some lit-
them without pity and disgust. I used tle reward for my services, and begged
to watch them when they assembled her to entreat her father to purchase
to receive their weekly allowance of Sabrina, and bring her upon his estate,
provisions. Worn out by fatigue, clad that we might get married. She en-
in rags, and branded with lashes, they gaged to propose the thing to him, and
would wait for their respective portions really did so; but he refused to agree
with eager greediness, and then hurry to it, and, at the same time, told her,
away in a state of tumultuous delight, that he suspected she had some private
which was scarcely repressed by the reasons for interceding so strongly in
elanking of the overseer's whip behind my behalf, and was resolved to disco-
them. They had sunk so low that they ver what they were.
seemed willing to accept life upon any “ Shortly after this, Miss Sexton
terms.
desired me to carry a letter to the next
“ In the midst of my misery, I be estate, and bid me be extremely cau-
came attached to a young girl named tious lest her father should see me go-
Sabrina. She was a slave upon the ad- ing there, but said that if he did, she
joining estate, and therefore we seldom would find means to shield me from
had an opportunity of seeing each other all blame. I took a bye-path which led
except by stealth. I used to leave my across our plantation, and reached Mr
master's house at midnight, whenevery Lusher's house without interruption ;
one was in bed, and go across the however he was not at home, and the
plantation to the huts in which Sabri- servants pointed to a small building a
na and her mother lived. But Mr little way off, and told me I would find
Sexton once, awoke during my absence him there.
on one of these nocturnal visits, and « On entering it, the first object
the whole affair was soon discovered. that struck my eyes was poor Sabrina,
He flogged me severely, and ordered whom I had not seen for many weeks.
me to remain at home in future ; and She lay upon some planks which were
the proprietor of the adjoining estate, covered with the dry husks of Indian
to whom he made a complaint, caused corn, and seemed to be dying. The
Sabrina's hut to be burned to the place had no window in it, and an old
ground ; that it might no longer afford negro woman sat beside her, holding
us a place of meeting. I became half a candle, while Mr Lusher and a me-
maddened with rage and misery. How- dical man stood at the foot of the bed.
ever, my feelings were unnoticed or The doctor muttered, “She's been a
disregarded by Mr Sexton, who, like fine slave-confounded pity to lose her
other American planters, did not be- -can't help it though ;' and then be
lieve that negroes were susceptible of gan to whistle and play with his cane.
love or sorrow.
What an unfortunate devil I am !
“Mr Sexton had a daughter, who exclaimed Mr Lusher, angrily. 'Hang
resided in the house with him, and her for falling sick-what right bas a
took charge of his domestic affairs. niger to fall sick ?-Ods, I believe, she
The proprietor of the adjoining estate, was not sound when I bought her
whose name was Lusher, loved her, I'll trounce somebody for that-So you
and wished to marry her, but Mr Sess think there's no chance of her hoeing
ton would not consent to their union, any more corn?'—No, no,' return-
and prohibited all correspondence be- ed the doctor, laughing ; ‘I would'nt
tween them. However, notwithstand- like to have as little chance of eating
ing this, they sometimes met in secret, my dinner to-day as she has of living
and often wrote to each other. Miss two hours.'
Sexton privately employed me to carry “ I stood in agony, not daring to
her letters to Mr Lusher, promising express my feelings. I advanced to-
that she would satisfy her father re- wards Sabrina, and took hold of her
Vol. IX.
3 U


522
The Florida Pirate..
[Aug.
arm. She raised her eyes, but it was “ Miss Sexton shrieked loudly, and
only that I might see their lustre ex- the overseer, followed by several slaves,
tinguished, for in a moment or two hastened towards me with a drawn
she fell dead upon her pillow. Ah, cutlass in his hand. I made no resist-
she's given you the slip, said the ance, and was immediately seized and
doctor. Mr Lusher cried, Damn bound. My master received very little
her soul to hell—there's four hundred injury from the blow, but his lips
dollars lost,' and hurried away, bang- quivered with rage ; and having given
ing the door furiously behind him. orders that I should be put in confine-
“ However he soon returned ; and ment, he walked toward the house
seeing me gazing on Sabrina, asked crying out,' Struck by a slave ! struck
what
I did there. I said I had a letter by a slave !-It is impossible! Am I
for him, and delivered it. Oh,' cries dreaming? - Does God Almighty real-
he, - you're the fellow that wanted ly permit this?-A slave! a black! a ne
that girl for a wife. I wish Mr Sex- gro!-Strike mema noble Carolinian!
ton had bought her, and then the loss Is there a law to punish this ? Law-
would have fallen on his shoulders. nonsense-Tortures, death, etemal
Well, you may take her now, and bury curses !'
her, or marry her—whichever you like “I was immediately thrown into a
-Begone, I don't want you.'
dark apartment in a large store-house,
“ I hurried home, equally afflicted and remained there all night without
at the death of Sabrina, and enraged being visited by any one. In the morn-
by the inhuman insults I had received ing the overseer took me out, and made
from her master. When I had come one of the negroes flog me severely, in
within a little distance of the house, I presence of Mr Sexton and his daugh-
observed Mr Sexton and his daughter ter. My sufferings were dreadful. In
walking towards me. How do you short, I was indicted for striking my
do, Manuel ?' cried he, in that style master, and tried, and found guilty.
of derision which he always assumed You know the punishment which the
when infuriated with passion'law awards in such cases-It was in-
hope your walk has been a pleasant ficted upon me. They cut off my
one. Be so good as suggest what im- right hand !- they cut off my right
provements ought to be made on this hand !” Here Manuel stretched out
estate. Do the crops look well? -Slave! the mutilated arm, and sobberl con-
baboon ! imp of the devil! where have vulsively. " But thank God I've ano-
you been?'
ther,” continued he vehemently; "and
“I made no reply, but looked to may it never be better employed than
Miss Sexton. She coloured, and cried, in resenting the tyranny of slave-mas-
• What does the wretch mean by look- ters. Oh! that every negro in the
ing at me? You surely do not say Southern States would risk the loss of
that I sent you any where.'— An- his right hand by doing what I have
swer me,' vociferated her father, rai- done! then would we prove that our
sing his cane. Miss Sexton will in- race was not made to be trampled
forın you,' returned I.-- This is be- upon—but let me proceed.
yond my patience!' exclaimed she. “I'll “ I was confined in jail for three
tell you how it is, father-he has been months, and then sent back to my
paying a visit to Sabrina, notwith- master. I anticipated a life of wretch-
standing your orders to the contrary, edness, and was not mistaken. Scarce-
and wishes to make you believe that I ly a day passed, in the course of which
sent him somewhere-Manuel, say in- Mr Sexton did not find an excuse for
stantly if you saw Sabrina this morn- punishing me. As the want of my hand
ing.' Yes,' answered 1,' I did, rendered me unable to do the duties of
but
- None of your buts, you equi- a house-servant, I was employed in
vocating villain ! interrupted my mas- tending the cattle, and thus had many
ter. Stung with indignation at Miss opportunities of conversing with my
Sexton's ingratitude, I cried out,‘Your fellow-slaves who worked out of doors.
daughter sent me with a letter to Mr I confided my thoughts to three of
Lusher.'—- What! you give us the them, who seemed willing to attempt
lie then ?' replied Mr Sexton, striking the execution of any project, however
me over the head. I returned the blow daring. In short, we determined to
with my fist, and he fell flat upon the burn our master's house, and spent
ground.
much time in planning how we could


1821.)
The Florida Pirate.
323
1
best effect this without the risk of house, and be the means of inducing
being discovered.
the people there to set out in quest of
“At last we fixed upon a time for my master, we left them, and plunged
our revenge. It was a holiday among into the recesses of the forest. We tra-
the negroes, who were all amusing velled all night towards the sea-shore,
themselves in various ways on differ- but did not venture to pass through any
ent parts of the estate. My master was inhabited place. The want of my hand
dining with a planter in the neighbour. rendered my appearance too remark-
hood; and as part of his road lay able to allow me to hope that I wɔuld
through a retired forest, we resolved escape notice. I need not describe the
to intercept him on his way home, lest hardships we encountered during our
his presence there should prove any journey. In two days we reached the
hindrance to the success of our scheme. coast, where we stole a boat, and put
“We had, at different times, placed out to sea, intending, if possible, to
combustibles in those parts of his house elude any search that might be made
and offices that were least exposed to for us. We soon fell in with a pirate,
observation. About eight in the even- who immediately took us on board,
ing we set fire to them, and then has- and I gradually acquired some know-
tened to the wood, and stationed our. ledge of seamanship. We cruized about
selves among the trees which bordered for a considerable time, and got a great
the road. We had searcely waited half many prizes, but our vessel at last be-
an hour when we saw smoke beginning came so generally known, that the
to ascend from the house, which was Captain could not continue to sail her
nearly a mile distant, and heard a tu. without running much risk of being
multuous noise of voices. I gazed and ciptured. He therefore went into a
listened with silent satisfaction, till my port in one of the West India Islands,
master made his appearance. He was and managed to get her sold. He paid
in a gig, and a negro rode on horseback his crew very generously, and by means
behind him. Two of my companions of his bounty, and a series of fortunate
seized the reins of the horses, and, accidents, I was enabled to purchase
assisted by a third, I dragged Mr Sex- this schooner, and to commence pirate
ton out of his carriage. He was almost myself. My mode of life is far from
speechless with indignation and terror, being an agreeable one, and I have
and doubtless supposed that I intend.' as yet made but little of it. However,
ed murdering him. He soon began to I have a more exalted object in view
entreat for mercy in the most abject than mere gain. You must not judge
manner, solemnly promising that he of my.character by that of the persons
would grant me my freedom if I al- with whom you see me surrounded. I
lowed him to go home unmolested. am well aware that my crew is com,
* You may well desire to be at home,' posed of the lowest and most debased
said I-Look to the south.'— Ha,' part of society, and often feel ashamed
cried he, 'what do you mean?-Des- of the concessions I am obliged to
perate wretch, have you taken your make them. They consider themselves
revenge already?-My house is on fire! on an equality with me, and will not
-But if I cannot punish you, others submit to any kind of discipline, be-
will suffer for this !
yond what mutual security and self-
“ We now bound him to a tree, preservation render necessary. But I
with his face towards the conflagra- value and endure them only in so far
tion, which had evidently increased as they are the means of forwarding
very much. A bright glare of light my views. I would consider it an in-
extended far over the sky, and tinged sult to be classed with such despera-
the tops of the trees like the setting does.”
sun ; volumes of smoke rose from two Here Manuel ceased speaking. I did
different spots; we heard the negroes not venture to make any comments up-
shouting confusedly; and the crack- on his story, and we sat in silence till
ling, crashing, and thundering of tim- the men came to the side of the river
bers falling to the ground, announced with a large quantity of firewood. We
that the work of destruction made fu- immediately took it on board the boat,
rious progress.
and rowed down the stream, and reach-
“Having secured the negro-man ined the schooner a short time before
the same way as Mr Sexton, and tied dawn. At sunrise we weighed anchor,
the horses lest they should go to the and put to see again.


1821.]
The Florida Pirate.
525
duties with a violence and eagerness yards of her. The boat being lowered
which shewed how congenial the pro- down, Manuel, and fifteen of his crew,
spect of bloodshed, oppression, and under arms, embarked, and rowed
plunder, was to their feelings. They alongside of the brig, and ascended her
soon began to converse gaily and un- gangway without meeting with any
concernedly. One talked of the resist- resistance. | The Captain immediately
ance we should probably meet with advanced towards them, and said,
from the vessel we were in chase of; “ What right have you to stop me in
another jestingly said, "he wished to the high seas?"_" Right! right !"
write his will," and mentioned what returned Manuel ; none that I know
articles he intended bequeathing to his of-only I'm stronger than you—but
companions, should he perish in the shew me your manifest.”- “ That I
conflict; a third complained of the de- cannot do,” cried the Captain, “ un-
fective state of his wardrobe, and enu- less you promise”-
-“ I'll promise
merated the additions he hoped to make nothing,” interrupted Manuel; yes,
to it, when the anticipated prize fell yes, one thing ; none of you shall be
into our hands. Manuel walked anxi- maltreated, unless you offer to oppose
ously about the deck, sometimes look my orders.”—“ Fine conditions, ina
ing through his glass, and sometimes deel !” exclaimed the Captain ; “ Be
giving directions to the helmsman. pleased to tell me what you wanthere?”
I alone remained unoccupied and —“Bring me your manifest,” replied
unattended to amidst the general ac- Manuel, “ and then I'll inform you.
tivity. The quiescent and monotonous I mean to take whatever part of your
life I had led since I came on board cargo I choose, and likewise all the
the schooner, had lulled me into a for- specie that is on board. Come down
getfulness of my real situation, all the to the cabin, I must not be detained."
horrors of which now burst upon my They now both went below, and
mind, with appalling force. I had the negroes having received a signal
outlawed myself from society. I was from Manuel, ranged themselves on
surrounded with wretches, with whom each side of the companion. They had
I could have no community of feeling. scarcely done this, when a voice re-
I was soon to become, as it were, an quested them to make way,
and a
gen-
accomplice in the work of rapine and tleman, with a young lady leaning on
bloodshed. We might, perhaps, be his arm, and followed by a mulatto
overpowered by those whom we pro- woman, came upon deck. They look-
posed to attack, and I should
be seized ed around them with an expression of
and classed with pirates. There was terror and astonishment. The young
no one to testity my innocence, to lady on seeing the blacks, turned pale,
prove that I had no connection with and clung tremblingly to her protect-
the guilty, or to save me from an ig- or's arm, and said something to him,
nominious death.
but in such a low tone of voice, that no
We soon discovered that the object thing but the word father was distin-
of our pursuit was a brig of about two guishable. The gentleman once or
hundred tons burden. She seemed to twice seemed to be on the point of ad-
suspect what we were, for she made dressing the negroes, but he suddenly
all sail, and began to go large, although stopped, as if aware that interference
she had kept very close hauled before was useless.
perceiving us; but our schooner, be A dead silence prevailed upon deck
ing very fast, and to the windward of for some time, but the countenances of
her, gained upon
her
every moment,
the different parties who occupied it,
About mid-day, we came within expressed more than words could have
shot of the brig, and Manuel ordered done. The females betrayed marks of
a gun to be fired, as a signal for her to deadening fear; the crew of the brig
heave to. She paid no attention to it, evidently struggled to resist the impul-
and her crew seemed to be preparing ses of indignation, and the negroes
for defence. He then pointed a can- seemed full of hope and impatience.
non himself, and sent a ball through The young lady wore a beautiful In-
the lower part of her main-sail; but dian shawl, and one of the blacks,
this not being what he wanted, he smiling to his companions, stepped for-
aimed again, and disabled her rudder. ward and pulled it off her shoulders.
She was now completely in our Her father, furious at this insult, sei
power, and we came within thirtyzed a block that lay near him, and


426
The Florida Pirate.
[Auz.
struck the daring wretch upon the face and viewed him with scowling and
with so much violence, that he stag- wrathful looks.
gered back, and nearly fell into the Manuel having collected together all
hold. However, he quickly recovered the articles he wanted, ordered them
himself, and rushing forwards, plun- to be handed into the boat, which he
ged his cutlass into the side of his an- sent off with part of his men to the
tagonist, who dropped, apparently life- schooner. He retained in his hand a
less, upon deck. The seamen belong. bag of specie, and several other things.
ing to the brig could no longer restrain The boat being unloaded, they return-
themselves; a loudcry burst from them, ed to take him on board his own ves-
and they hastily seized the murder- sel, and as he was descending the gang-
er, and threw him overboard; but be way of the brig, he bowed to her Cape
ing an expert swimmer, he soon gain- tain, and said, “I wish you a good
ed the surface of the water, and made voyage, sir.”
furiously towards the vessel's side, with On reaching the schooner, Manuel
flashing eyes and loud curses. The ordered the crew to hoist up the boat
noise of the affray brought the Captain and to bear away ; however, the wind
and Manuel from the cabin, and the was light and baffling, and we made
first object that struck the eyes of the but little progress. I fixed my eyes
latter was the wounded man weltering upon the brig as we gradually receded
in blood, and supported in the arms of from her, and reflected upon the un-
his daughter. “Who did this?" cried happy situation of Mr R and his
Manuel, with a voice half suffocated daughter, in both of whom I felt
with emotion. The assassin was stand- powerfully interested. I had several
ing upon the chains, and endeavouring times been on the point of entreating
to climb over the bulwarks, when some Manuel to allow me to assist the
one pointed him out. Manuel drew a wounded man; but he had always
pistol from his bosom, and fired at the turned away, as if aware of what I in-
negro's head; the ball took effect. Its tended, and unwilling to render hiin.
victim lost hold of the rigging, sprung self chargeable with inhumanity, by
convulsively upwards, and fell head- refusing to grant my request. 1' now
long among the waves. A murmur of ventured to address him on thesubject.
applause proceeded from the crew; but “We cannot part with you," said he;
the blacks shrunk away with baleful “if wedid, it might ruin us all. He who
frowns from Manuel, who, turning becomes a pirate, must die a pirate.
to the Captain, said haughtily, "This There is no middle course. I fervent-
is my discipline !" and then took a ly hope Mr R—may recover. I have
paper out of his pocket and began to at least executed justice upon his mur-
read.
derer. Perhaps you may think me a
The young lady's father, whose name murderer myself, but I did no more
was Mr R , was now conveyed to than was necessary. My crew are not
the cabin, and accompanied by his to be restrained except by very terrible
daughter and her attendant, the Mu- means. And yet,” continued he, start-
latto woman. Manuel then ordered his ing, “in my anxiety to save others, I
men to litt the hatches, and descended have perhaps brought destruction upon
through one of them into the hold. myself
. I am guilty of murder ; there
After a little time he returned, and are plenty of witnesses to prove it.-
pointed out what articles he wished to Oh that both my hands had been cat
have brought upon deck. The negroes off, then I could not have committed
set to work, and presently every part this rash act, which at once puts me
of the vessel was covered with bales, on a level with my crew. Good-night,
casks, and packages, while Manuel good-night. Go to sleep.”
walked coolly among them, and select About two hours after sun-set, I
ed such as he conceived to be most retired to my birth; but the events of
useful and valuable. His men would the day had made such a strong im-
evidently have begun to plunder pri- pression that I could not sleep, and I
vately, had they not been restrain- rose at midnight and went upon deck.
ed by fear ; but the instance of their It was clear moonlight, and perfectly
leadler's severity which they had just calm. On looking for the brig, I per-
witnessed, seemed to dwell upon their ceived, to my astonishment, that she
minds, for while occupied in getting lay within a mile of us, and had heel-
out the cargo, they muttered threats, ed over so much, that she seemed al-


1821.)
The Florida Pirate.
527
tain ;
most on her beam-ends. I immedi- on board the schooner; we according-
ately informed Manuel of this, and he ly embarked, placing Mr Rupon
looked at her through his night-glass, a mattrass, and rowed away from the
and said she was aground upon a sand- brig, towards which the Captain and
bank. “ What is to be done?” cried his crew directed many anxious and
1; "you surely will not allow those regretful looks.
on board to perish?”—“To-morrow's On getting on board the schooner,
dawn shall determine that," returned our first object was to contrive accom-
he,
modations for so many new passengers.
At day-break we found that the brig I resigned my birth to Mr R-, and
was still in the situation already de Manuel allowed the young lady and
scribed, and Manuel, accompanied by her attendant to occupy his state-room.
me and several of the crew, went to- The Captain and his crew reposed upon
wards her in the boat. The Captain deck, but the latter were so indignant
seemed at a loss how to receive us, at the familiarity with which the ne-
being doubtful whether our intentions groes treated them, that they would
were hostile or friendly ; but when we have resented it by force, had not the
had satisfied him on this point, he in- fear of being overcome by superior
formed us, that his vessel having be- numbers restrained their fury. How-
come quite unmanageable, in conse- ever, the two parties poured forth tor-
quence of the loss of her rudder, had rents of abuse against each other; and
drifted away towards a sand-bank, and the clamour of their tongues, the groans
run hard aground the preceding night. of MrR, the agonies of his daugh-
We soon ascertained that her bottom ter, and the confinement of a crowded
was a good deal damaged, and that vessel, all combined to render the day
she could not be got off. “ This brig and succeeding night insupportably
will go to pieces the first time there is tedious and distressing to me.
a heavy sea,” said Manuel to the Cap In about forty hours, we made the
and those who remain in her Pan of Matanzas, and Manuel told the
must perish. I will take you all on Captain and the white crew to hold
board my schooner, and put you ashore themselves in readiness, as he soon in-
about forty miles above Matanzas, tended to put them ashore. At sun-
seeking no compensation but part of set we were scarcely two leagues from
the cargo, which you of course have the coast of Cuba. The negroes lower-
no means of preserving.” After some ed a small boat, and stowed a quantity
deliberation, this proposal was acce- of water and provisions in her ; and
ded to by all parties, and Manuel's Manuel came down to the cabin, and
crew again began to unload the brig. informed Mr R and his daughter
While they were thus engaged, I that it was time for them to embark.
went down to the cabin, and found Mr “ Where? What do you mean?”
R- and his daughter there. The criul the young lady."-" Why, ma-
former had a look of ghastliness which dam," returned Manuel, “ didn't I
gave me an unfavourable idea of the say that all the people belonging to the
nature of his wound; and the latter brig were to put ashore here?”—“Oh,
sat beside his bed, and seemed at once thanked be Heaven," exclaimed she;
hopeless and resigned. On seeing me, « then we are near a harbour and a
they both started, but said nothing. town?—My dear father!"-"No, no,"
I told them, that although I came interrupted Manuel, " the coast op-
along with the pirates, I had no con- posite is uninhabited.”_" What do
nexion with such persons, and that you tell me?" cried she, bursting into
my object in intruding upon them was tears;
you surely cannot be so bar-
to offer my professional services to Mr barous--my father is dying ;-have a
R- The young lady sprung fron little pity. It is indeed dreadful to be
her chair, and expressed her gratitude here, to be among such people ;- but
in the warmest manner, while her fa- what will become of my parent, if you
ther's flushed countenance and beam- send us away? I have no more money
ing eyes evinced that hopes of life be- to give you, but perhaps~" Here she
gan to revive in his heart.
covered her face with her hands, and
When Manuel had carried away as sobbed so violently, that her whole
much of the cargo as his vessel could frame trembled.
conveniently contain, he informed us Manuel began to pace about the ca-
that the boat was ready to take us all bin ; I saw that he was affected, and


530
The Florida Pirate.
(Aug.
became very desperate. The bayonet longed to the brig we had plundered,
and cutlass had usurped the place of and to hear them say that they were
fire-arms, and the negroes, who were the means of capturing the schooner.
not provided with weapons of any kind, Having heen fortunate enough to reach
attacked the American seamen with Matanzas the day after Manuel had set
their fists, beating them down, at- them adrift in the boat, they found an
tempting to choak them, and pushing American brig of war there, which had
them overboard. They all the while run into the harbour that she might
animated each other with shouts, exe- repair some damage she had sustained
crations, and blasphemous cries, and while on her voyage from Jamaica to
rushed furiously to the combat, half- Charleston. They immediately gave
naked, and covered with dust, and her captain information respecting the
sweat, and blood.
pirate, and he set out in pursuit of
I kept as near Manuel as possible. them, making the seamen warp his
He sometimes fought vigorously for a brig along, till a breeze sprung up
few moments, and then stood idle, ap- which enabled him to come in sight of
parently irresolute what to do. At last the schooner. During the battle, a
he cried out, “ It is easy to see how young officer who boarded her along
this day will end, but I must hasten with the American crew, happen-
its termination, and then hurrieded to observe Manuel's attempts to
down to the cabin. I instinctively fol- blow them up, and with great presence
lowed him, and found Elizabeth and of mind, dashed his foot through the
her maid nearly speechless with ter- sky-light, and averted the danger, by
ror. Manuel tore open the hatch in pouring down a large quantity of wa-
the floor, and pulled up a small cask, ter upon the gunpowder.
the head of which he knocked in with A few hours after the capture of the
his hand. It was full of gunpowder. schooner, we set sail for Charleston,
He placed it upon the table.--I grew where the brig was bound. We reach-
breathless. He put a steel between ed that port in ten days. The pirate
his teeth, and then seizing a flint, be- crew were immediately lodged in jail.
gan to strike the one against the other. I underwent an examination, and was
The pulsations of my heart ceased, and then taken into custody, it being evi-
my eyes became dim. Manuel seem- dent, from my own confession, that I
ed suddenly to dilate into fearful and had not been forced on board the
gigantic size, and to pour torrents of schooner. Elizabeth, to whom I had
fire upon the gunpowder. My senses hourly become more devoted during
were suddenly recalled by a loud crash, the voyage, found an asylum in the
and by the appearance of water rush house of a distant relation, who resi-
ing down upon us through the sky- ded in Charleston, and was summoned
light. I thought we were going to the as a witness against the negroes. In
bottom, and started up and pulled the three weeks their trial came on, and
fainting Elizabeth towards the gang- Manuel and seven others were con-
way. There we encountered an Ame- demned to death. No evidence having
rican officer ; he gave us a look of asto- appeared against me, I was liberated
nishment, and hastening towards Ma- from confinement at an early period,
nuel, seized his arm, and said, “Sur- by the intercession of several persons
render yourself-you are my prisoner.” who appeared to take an interest in my
Manuel did not attempt any re- fate. I supplied myself with means
sistance, but followed the officer upon of support, by disposing of some va-
deck. Having left Elizabeth, whose luables I had in my possession.
recollection was now pretty well resto I was filled with sorrow when I
red, with her maid, I went there also. heard that Manuel was condemned to
Every thing had become quiet. The death, aware that he deserved a better
American seamen were in possession of fate. I visited him in jail, the day af-
the schooner, and the negroes had been ter he had received his sentence. He
removed on board the brig of war. was loaded with fetters, and occupied
Her captain ordered Manuel to be put a small cell by himself, through which
in irons, and directed that Elizabeth he paced as quickly as the weight of
and I should have accommudations in his irons would permit; though he had
his own vessel.
a subdued look, the expression of his
I was a good deal astonished to meet countenance was neither abject nor
with several of the crew that had be sorrowful.


1821. )
The Florida Pirate.
531
“ Ah, is it you, sir?” cried he, ad- in, master. I entered, and gave him
vancing towards me, as I entered; the letter, and at his request seated
“ you are the person I most wished to myself upon an old stool in one corner
see. How kind it is in you to visit a of the apartment until he read it.
poor negro! For I am no more now. “ Strange-very strange," muttered
I am glad to be treated as a rational he, gazing on me intently. “How is
creature by at least one white man. I Mr Manuel ?"-" Well enough, at
wonder they have let you escape. In present,” returned I; “but”. He
this country it is a crime for a man to stood still a moment, as if waiting the
have any thing to do with blacks, ex conclusion of my reply, and then went
cept in the way of flogging them.” out of the room, but soon came back,
“You do not deserve to die,” said I, carrying a bag, which he immediately
after a pause.--"Oh, perhaps not,” re- put into my hands. It's weight was
tumed he ; “but law-law-law, you immense. « That's all,” said he, “ I
know-However, 'tis better I should. guess Manuel don't intend that I should
I had a weary life of it. I was chased be his bankeer long. Good morning,
from the land, and took refuge upon sir."
the sea ; but, notwithstanding that, I When I returned to my lodgings, I
could not escape the blood-hounds of opened the bag, and, to my astonish-
the Southern States of America. But ment, found it full of doubloons. I
here I have written out something for could not believe that Manuel intend-
you. Take this letter to Gustavus ed leaving me such a legacy, and went
H-, and accept what he gives you to the prison in the afternoon, that I
in return, as a remembrance of me. might see him, and converse with him
But don't tell him that I'm sentenced upon the subject; but I arrived there too
to death.” He then presented me with late ; he had anticipated the law by
a paper, and having given directions putting a period to his existence.
whereI should find the person to whom Fortune had now bestowed upon me
it was addressed, bid me farewell. the means of returning to my native
· I immediately proceeded in search of country. I communicated this to Eli-
Manuel's acquaintance, and after some zabeth, and entreated that we might
time, reached his house, which was si- make the journey of life together. She
tuated in the most obscure part of a consented, and our mutual happiness
narrow and dirty alley. The door was was soon as great as our individual
opened by an old negro, and I inqui- misery had been, when fate first brought
red if Gustavus H lived there. us together.
“I am the man," returned he; "walk
ON THE PROBABLE INFLUENCE OF MORAL AND RELIGIOUS INSTRUCTION ON
THE CHARACTER AND SITUATION OF SEAMEN.
No. II.
In our last Number under this head, our conviction is not less intimate
we laid before our readers an abstract that these men, on their return to
of what we conceive to be the present England, landed just such, to all in-
character of our seamen, and the cir- tents and purposes, as they left it;
cumstances in their situation by which that their pleasures were as gross as
it is formed. We now proceed to con- before, their indulgence in them as
sider the experiment on that character unlimited, their late impressions, in-
which gave occasion to our specula- deed, altogether transitory; with pos-
tions.
sibly, although not probably, one or
We have no doubt whatever of the two individual exceptions, not among
accuracy of Captain Parry's statements the best men, nor those whose example
in regard to that experiment, and firm- is likely to have most influence with
ly believe, both that by what he did, the remainder. We have no authority
he succeeded in exciting feelings of re- for stating this as a fact, it is true ; but,
ligion in the breasts of his people, and if our readers entertain any doubts on
also that these were found to conduce the subject, there are a thousand chan-
to their orderly and general good con- nels by which they may satisfy them-
duct. On the other hand, however, selves, and we are most willing to stake


532
On the Character of Seamen.
[Aug.
our credit on every point of our res- selves committed with the mighty
soning on the result of their inquiries. elements of heaven, our very strength
Assuming it then meanwhile, it shall reminds us of our weakness, and we
be the object of our present communi- shrink into nothingness before them ;
cation to exhibit the mediate principles particularly when they appear in un-
on which first one, and then the other usual forms, and are subject to sudden
of these apparently contradictory re- transitions, now disappointing and now
sults is founded ; reconciling thein ac, favouring our views, now threatening
cordingly with human nature, and and now relieving us, independently
with each other, and proving indeed, altogether of our own exertions. And
as we anticipate, that so far from being in this way we think it would have
anomalous, they might have been pre- been impossible for Captain Parry to
dicted before they happened more cer- have prevented such feelings from
tainly, and may be reasoned on after- shewing themselves among his people,
wards more confidently, than álnost had he been even unreasonable enough
any facts of their class. For we are well to have desired it ; for thus, indeed, we
convinced, that it would be not less readily account for that peculiar strain
impossible for any body of seamen to of religious feeling which pervades all
remain inaccessible to religious im- the narratives of voyages into the Arctic
pressions, if conveyed to them under Regions which we have perused, and
circumstances even only remotely ana- of which it were very easy to multiply
logous to those in which the crews of examples.
the Hecla and Griper were placed at But Captain Parry did not attempt
Melville Island, than it would be even to chill these feelings; on the contrary,
miraculous did they at present conti- he sought to develope them. The in-
nue generally to act under their in- fluence of his countenance and exam-
fluence on their return home. ple, was therefore further impressed
We have already stated the existence on his ship's company; and this, let it
in such men of an embryo feeling of be observed, would be particularly pow-
religion; and in tracing this to the erful in his case, because he thorough-
precarious nature of their profession, ly knew his own secular duties and
and the constant sight of danger, are theirs too, and was even considerably
not conscious of having libelled the ahead of what is usually implied by
sentiment, or in any degree impaired these words, for he took his part in
its value. Like all other sentiments the scientifie observations going for-
not absolutely innate, it must enter by ward, even such as were not imme-
some avenue or other-grief, overflow- diately connected with his own depart-
ing sense of happiness, (the most op- ment, and was at home in all.. This
posite, by wise and beneficent appoint- last is a point indeed which we would
ment, equally answering the purpose,) fain press with some earnestness on the
apprehension before peril, thankfulness attention of young naval officers, such
after it, blind veneration the child of of them particularly as take an active
ignorance, or reason the result of in- interest in the cause immediately be-
struction. The embryo principle, how- fore us. On the strength of an average
eyer, being there, it will necessarily proficiency in the practical branches
germinate according to the vigour of of their profession, such as has been
the implanting cause; and this, in the hitherto sufficient for their purpose,
case before us, was remarkably strong. they must not suppose themselves
When danger proceeds from the vio- qualified now to give up altogether the
lence of others, men become rather character of students, and assume that
combative than resigned, and even of teachers. The truth is, an active
when helpless in its grasp, not unfre- husbandry is at this moment turning
quently harden themselves against all up the clóds of every valley, and those
its impressions. But when we feel our- who give their undivided attention to
* “Ye're aye right in the sawing and the mawing, the sheering and the leading," said
the Widow Butler to douce Davie Deans, " and rehat for sud na ye be right in the kirke
wark too ?" A good novel is to the student of human nature, what a botanical garden
is to a young florist. The parts of specimens taken from both, may sometimes be found
to have run into each other by cultivation ; but the plants are labelled for our assist-
ance.


1821.3
On the Character of Seamen.
833
the culture of others, without regard- terest and curiosity are not near so
ing their own, may live to be over- much excited by absolute novelty as
grown by the vegetation which they by imperfect knowledge; to seamen,
will have contributed to superinduce. therefore, in whom the idea of a pre-
Let us speak plainer. At the same time sent God, although existing, is vague,
that the education of our seamen is offered information respecting his be-
becoming daily an object of more ge- ing, attributes, and demands, would
neral concern, that of their officers is, seem calculated to be at all times wel-
from other causes, becoming more come, provided that their minds, which
complicated and extensive. As, then, in their present state can hold but one
the effects of the former become evi- idea at a time, were, at the moment,
dent, so will those of the latter ; offi- sufficiently disengaged from external
cers, in a little time, will take rank, in material impulse, to receive it. But
the estimation of their ships' compa- the monotony of ten months at a spell
nies, pretty nearly as they profit by all in the ice, secluded from all their
their opportunities, whether of acqui- usual enjoyments, would, if any thing
ring theory or practice ; and those who could, so disengage them; the rather
altogether neglect either, while yet that some feeling of doubt must some
there is time to attend to them, will times have pressed on them, in mo-
fall into a merited contempt, of which ments of relaxed nervous system, whe-
no degree of zeal will be able to parry ther it was the will of that God ever
the effects. It is therefore incumbent, to liberate them or not. We are far
in an especial manner, on those who from thinking, at the same time, that
have a point at heart, which they wish this last uncertainty would very often
to carry by every means in their power, occur to them; we are too well ac-
not to neglect this which lies quite at quainted with the general elasticity of
their door ; and thus, be it also obser, their spirits. But the best set springs
ved, is another example given us of will yield a little at times, and the
that connexion between the active du- weight which they support become
ties of this world and the rewards of thus more sensible to the frame.-
the next, between our interests, in a Every previous example, too, of a na-
word, here and there, to which we have ture similar to their own, from Sir
already adverted, and of which it is Hugh Willoughby down, had been
inexpressibly gratifying now and then fraught with suffering and death. And
to catch a link, however impossible it whose courage does not sometimes
may be for us to trace its whole extent. hang on precedent?
We cannot all be clergymen; the af Sailors when at sea, although their
fairs of this world would stand still labour is occasionally severe, have, for
altogether were we each occupied ex- the most part, considerable intervals of
clusively, or even chiefly, with the leisure, with very limited sources of
spiritual concerns of others. But it is amusement ; every sort of instruction,
not necessary—it is not even desirable therefore, at all suited to their capaci-
that we should; for in this, as in ties, would, we think, be welcome to
every other department, labour is most them, as affording means of quiet oc-
profitable when divided. Let us only cupation, which can be laid down and
zealously discharge our duties here, resumed without trouble or inconve-
patiently educating ourselves up to the nience. But religious instruction would
full measure of their requisitions, seem to possess some peculiar advan-
whatever our station in life, and gi- tages in this way. It relates to a sub-
ving religion the weight of that in- ject with which they feel a prepos-
fluence over society which we must session that they ought to be in some
thus acquire. We shall then discharge degree acquainted, it affects their
our debt of zeal to her cause, quite as highest interests, to which they are
amply as any clergyman can do, and far from being indifferent; and it af-
a thousand times more effectively than fords scope for the most touching of
if we quitted our own places to thrust all declamation, which is never with-
ourselves into his.
out the greatest weight with a simple
It has often been remarked, that in- mind.* Besides these, it has some me-
See every account we have of the American Indian, in most respects the abso-
lute converse of the British seaman, the most solitary, independent, grateful, vindictive


334
On the Character of Seamen.
[Aug
chanical advantages, if we may so call principle which, in civil life, lies at
them, which are also worth adverting the root of all our boyish emulation,
to. In turning over the pages of the our more manly ambition, the hopes
Bible, a sailor is soon attracted by its and fears which diversify and delight
historical narratives, all of them suit- our being, should not be immediately
ing his taste for anecdote ; while those felt, and considered by him as marking
of the Old Testament, in particular, an interesting epoch'in his life ; and
represent a state of society not unlike as it is at this point besides, that we
that of which he himself forms a part, think the peculiar bearing of religious
harmonize accordingly with his habits instruction upon discipline commen-
of violence, with his belief in a partie ces, we entreat our readers to consider
cular Providence, with the notions pe- it with some attention, and follow us
culiar to his profession, and which now in our attempt to investigate its
readily lead him to consider disobe operation.
dience, even to the most severe orders, It would seem unnecessary, in the
an unpardonable offence.* The dis first place, to argue that religious feel.
dactic nature of some of the incidents ing, once excited, does necessarily give
fits them to be stored up in his memo- an individual character to our exist-
ry—their miraculous character elicits ence in our own eyes, however con-
his wonder, at all events fixes his at. nected it may still be in the sight of
tention; and even the glimpses into the world, with that of others; for bem
futurity which he finds among them, sides that whatever expands the mind,
concur with the scope of his supersti, no matter what, produces this in some
tions, without contradicting their let- degree, it must be impossible, we should
ter. These circumstances, in theory imagine, even for the most indifferent,
and taken separately, may not seem to to contemplate that Supreme Intelli-
many to be of much value; but we are gence whose eye pervades all space,
very certain, that together, and in and penetrates all being, and of whom
practice, they are of infinite import- it is the peculiar province of religious
ance. They are precisely the points instruction to discourse, without imme-
which regulate our choice of studies diately feeling alone in His presence,
for other children.
every relation absorbed in that of the
Religious instruction would next creature before its Creator. Much mo-
seem calculated particularly to interest ral restraint, then, is gained even by
seamen, because, by opening up to this ; for it has often been remarked,
their view their individual stake in the in higher ranks of society than sailors,
next world, it in some degree rescues that what men will commit in a body
them from that gregarious existence without compunction, they will each
to which they are condemned in this. instinctively shrink from when alone;
We do not believe them, it is true, at and much more if they feel themselves
present sensible of the weight of this under the immediate eye of a judge.
last leaden mantle wrapped round all But another principle also comes in
their faculties; by bountiful ordina- here, the notice of which will require
tion, the inner man is at all times suit some previous explanation.
ed to the outer, and none of us feel When we described the character of
the weight of the 32,000 pounds of at- seamen, we ought to have mentioned,
mospheric air which yet the mechan- that although fond enough of popula-
ism of our frames supports. Still it is rity among themselves, the desire of
impossible to suppose that the letting personal notice and distinction on the
in upon a sailor's existence of that part of their superiors, whether lands
animal of his kind; yet resembling him in this.--And see also Molina's Account of the
Native Chilese, Vol. I. passim. &c. &c.
The Rev. Micah Balwhidder's Chelsea pensioner, our readers will recollect, was
just at this point of proficiency in his studies, when visited by the worthy elder of Dal-
mailing.-Annals of the Purish, p. 26. There is infinite truth and nature, fully
more, by the way, than reverence, in the tone of this sketch ; we have known thousands
at such a Rubicon. And if we dive a little deeper, we shall find that there are many si-
milar points in religious reading, at which other classes of society equally hang, with
not a shadow of more personal merit, though infinitely more self-complacency, than
these rough children of nature and circumstance possess at theirs. "Let these not
judge, lest they be judged."


536
On the Character of Seamen.
[Aug.
roughly, they discharge it, in entire re There are, then, extra chords in the
liance on the justice of their com- simple and accessible hearts of sea
mander, and utter indifference to his men, through means of which religi-
favour. This last, like most other ous instruction will always be found
compliments, is pleasing just in pro- to affect them more readily than any
portion as it is not designed, not super- other class of society of their rank.
ficial, and as to a weak mind it might We must now, however, reverse the
give offence. But still, some very im- picture, and exhibit them returned
portant disadvantages flow from them froin a long, fatiguing, and perhaps
too. Very many of the offences liable dangerous voyage, a little money in
to be committed at sea are convention- their pockets, some credit under their
al, arising from the peculiarities of si- lee for more, such as they always
tuation, not moral or abstract. Their possess in these circumstances, and
commission, accordingly, inflicts no just landed in an English sea-port
disgrace on the culprit, in the eyes of town, to make the most they can of
those exposed to similar temptation both. The abstract character is the
with that which led him astray ; while same identically; the same good in-
nearly all the remainder, as riot, tentions, docility, light heart, and
drunkenness, &c. in the present igno- light head, continue to distinguish it.
rance of seamen, reflect rather credit The results are very different, how-
on him. On all these, accordingly, no ever; they are indeed so different, only
moral restraint can at present possibly because these qualities do thus conti-
be laid ; besides which, the habit of nue to distinguish it. A sailor's temp-
incurring reproach, or even punish- tations, like those of most other men,
ment, not so much with feelings of arise chiefly from the showy points
self-condemnation or promised amend- about him, which are most admired
ment, as submission to misfortune, or when superficially observed. There
suppressed murmur because not for- is no snare in this world like the snare
given, is utterly destructive of self-re- of a “good report,"- and next to it,
spect, and searing to all the feelings the snare of seeming virtue in others,
on which alone any system of moral -and to both, as we shall presently
restraint can ever be built.
see, he is exposed.
Now it is religious instruction which The population of a sea-port town,
must strike the first blow here, and such, for example, as Portsmouth,
which does, in fact, so strike it, when- Sheerness, &c. with which men-of-war
ever it is applied. It represents to us sailors are first brought in contact on
all one Being at least, whose favour their return from abroad, is composed
we must sue for, if we would obtain almost exclusively of three classes,
it; one before whom an universal a small proportion of native, perma-
Gazette is, at it were, opened, contain- nently resident, and respectable inha-
ing the record of all our names, and bitants; a much greater number do-
actions, and thoughts, however se- miciliated, but disrespectable; and a
cret; who requires us to be submis- foating mass, of various amount ac-
sive to the authorities placed over us, cording to circumstances, principally
making our obedience to their laws composed of officers and seamen
on
stand for obedience to His, so long as leave from their respective ships. The
they are not opposed; who at the first constitute the limited class of re-
same time inculcates no slavish defer- spectable shop-keepers, for the most
'ence to the will of a fellow mortal, nor part shy and even suspicious of stran-
exaggerated value for his person, be- gers, having been, in truth, frequent-
yond what his character and place in ly taken in by them; hard in their
society may justly demand for him; dealings, even unjust sometimes, the
the contemplation of whom, in a word, necessity being in some degree imposed
may thus again elicit among seamen on them, of making the honest pay oc-
that desire of recommending them- casionally for the fraudulent. Of the
selves to their superiors generally,– second, the worst out of all compari-
c'est le premier pas qui coute,—which sion are those who make some preten-
has been unquestionably a youthful sions to respectability, the lower class
feeling with them all, but which the of shopkeepers, Jews, brokers, &c.,
circumstances in which they have been sheer rogues, collected, like vultures
placed, have, in a great degree, suc- round a carcase, from the four quar-
ceeded in extinguishing in them. ters of heaven, to prey upon the fol-
9


336
On the Character of Soamen.
[Aug.
sciences. Besides this, it is another, burthen of never having done such a
beneficent ordination that frequent thing before, and being now to seek
exposure to temptation of itself alone, for a seat, at a good hazard of being su-
blunts its edge ; that those according- perciliously rejected froin beside those
ly under whose eyes irregular gratifi, even, who profess to be most inter-
cations are constantly passing, shortly, ested in his running this career. And
cease to value them, or when they in- as to retiring at an early hour to pri-
dulge in them at all, do it temperately vate respectable lodgings, he could not
and moderately, as knowing that they do this, under any circumstances now;
can always return, and again com- there must be a great change indeed in
mand them. And thus, although even the composition both of sailors and
with the deepest religious feelings none sea-port towns, before any such would
of us are quite free from taint, either take him in, or their proprietors could
of vice, or folly, or both; still, without be persuaded to compromise the cha-
religion altogether, many of us make racter of their houses by even delibe-
a most respectable figure on all points. rating on the subject.
But what is the situation of a sailor, There seems then to us to be about
just landed, as we have represented the same chance of a sailor's following
him, with respect to these aids to vir- this course at present, as a man on
tue? He has not one of them, not a crutches has of running against an-
natural feeling within him but is other, hale, and active, and perfect in
leagued with vice, and of all men li. his limbs. One such exaniple may
ving he is the least likely to overcomc occur in an age, but the days of mi-
his natural feelings upon principle on- racles are gone by, and in all times
ly. He has no family near him to smile superhuman strength, or rather, that
upon his self-denial; the friends about we may guard our phraseology against
him, on the contrary, scoff at his scruevery thing like mistake, more than
ples. In going to take a country-walk, ordinary assistance from above to hu.
as suggested, he must break away from man weakness, could never be calcu-
all the temptations to which he has been lated on as a vulgar or common agent.
in the habit of yielding; the gratifica- Let us turn, then, to the second or me-
tions offered by which are now within dium course. On this tack, a sailor
his reach, but may never again return. must be supposed to land with modified
He must set out without the slightest feelings of the same nature with those
prospect of amusement; he has no he formerly possessed on like occa-
thoughts over which to meditate with sions; he may determine to be pru-
interest,—he does not know one plant, dent, but his heart must, on the whole,
one stone, one mode of cultivation, from be jovial, and his anticipation of plea-
another; and he is altogether incapable sure high. On first reaching the
of that refined conversation put into shore, he must be his proportion to-
his mouth, in publications professing wards a glass of grog to the boat's
to represent his character, -he could crew, who have had the trouble of
not understand above the half of it, conveying him and others to their des-
were it even addressed to him. Again, tination, there is no harm in this,
were be to be temperate at his meals, and immemorial usage, together with
when excess was wit! his reach, he the treacherous semblance of genero-
would do that which we really do not sity, is in its favour. He must taste
believe those could do who so readily this glass too; and still no great harm
suppose him capable of it,-live, we is done, only that it is the beginning of
mean, for months together on a limit- a series of similar indulgences. Mean-
ed, and in some sort unpalatable al- while an old acquaintance comes up, or
lowance, and not in any degree indulge stranger willing to become a new oue,
when opportunity offers. He could for there is a great deal of free-mason-
certainly go to church; it is the thing ry among seamen, and they all address
indeed of all that is thus laid down for each other readily. “Hollo, Jack, is this
him which he is the most likely to do, you?” is one salute; or, “What cheer,
-a sailor's reverence for religion is al- shipmate?” another; but, “ Give us
ways strong within him. But even to your hand, my boy, what's your news"
do this, he must vanquish as many na is common to both. Jack has no great
tural feelings as would oppose a child's matter of news, but he has always the
making a similar election in preference grasp of a hand to give“ in friendship
to going to a ball, with the additional or in fight,” to whoever asks it; and his


1821.]
On the Charucter of Seamen.
539
heal has generally some gossip or other her's; she may once have saved his
in it, say about Melville Island and life, as we have explained, or have
the Polar Bears, which he is not sorry other claims on his remembrancescarce-
to have an early opportunity of dis- ly less interesting. But, at all events,
charging. The stranger now proposes his good nature, and rough, but ge-
either to give or take another glass of nuine sensibility,* will not allow him
grog, as his finances suggest ; and in rudely to reject what looks like affec-
the one case obligation and growing tion, and is, in all probability, the
regard, in the other generosity again, shadow of its shade ; for these poor
in both a treacherous inclination, im- girls, libelled in song, and often bad
mediately prompt compliance. The enough, exhibit, occasionally, extraor-
conversation is regularly joined, and dinary marks of attachment to their
the pauses between “ stranger stuff"
paramours. And honest Jack Rattlin
are filled up with details concerning soon learns what many wiser men have
the more ordinary vicissitudes of life; learnt before him, that to parley on
who is up, and who down in the world, these occasions is to yield.
since he was last there,—who dead, and Such, then, is the end of the second
who alive-who spliced, or his wife alternative, and we have but the third,
gone bome, and what new comers are beginning where this ends, and at dis-
at such and such a house of ill-faine. advantage too, for short-lived scruples
Jack's heart warms progressively to are, for the most part, but the leaper's
the whole, as one recollection, one as or wrestler's backward step, before put-
sociation is recalled after another; ting forth all his powers. On the pre-
and, at the conclusion, supposing that sent occasion, however, this is but lit-
he will not even yct visit “ the girls," as tle matter, for we now frankly express
his companion proposes, he readily our opinion, and we are willing to stake
consents to go and see those at whose all our knowledge of seamen on its
houses he used to meet them-he know's head, that there is scarcely a fraction
none other. All this while, probably, low enough to express the number of
in unconscious anticipation of ultimate those who would ever, in the present
defeat, (alone half the battle lost,) he state of our seamen, entertain such
has concealed his scruples; or if he has scruples as we have adverted to at all,
avowell them in the first instance, all or, with money in their pockets, reject
the worse for him in some respects, one indulgence, which, but for them,
the attacks on them are more direct. they would have purchased. That
As he passes along the street, then, which we have just scen, is not the
more recognitions, more grestings, process of seduction, but the form of
more grog; which last he will not re- indulgence, which they willingly and
fuse, for after a thousand defeats, a wittingly go through. What the ca-
sailor's confidence in the strength of suistry is, by which vulgar minds ge-
his head, is just the confidence of a nerally reconcile the grossest excesses
forward child, who, the moment he is with even considerable veneration of
old enough to wish to mount his fa- the Being who forbids them,t we can-
ther's horse, is quite certain that he can not stay now to inquire; those will re-
manage him. At last a woman's voice cognize, who, like ourselves in all pro-
salutes his
ear, Jack, dear Jack !" bability, reconcile each his own pecu-
and most likely Cæsar's triumph is liar failing, his vanity, petulance, ill.
66
• Has any of our readers ever seen a sailor assisting a woman or child in a boat or
ship, and observed his solicitude ? His affections are so tied up in ordinary life, they
fairly walk out of him when he cannot follow them, and away with him when he can.
He is their slave, in every sense of the word, upon some of the best and finest princi.
ples of our common nature.
† The degree to which ignorant men particularly, can succeed in shutting their eyes
to the criminality of their favourite induſgences, and yet retain their reverence for the
Supreme Being, is nowhere better exemplified than in the lives of the Buccaneers.
These wretches, yet king from their atrocities, at every pause
say their prayers,
and give thanks to Almighty God for His deliverances." And while they familiarly
cut off a moiety of their captives' heads, and send them on shore, to quicken the
ransom of the remainder, a Captain Sawkins of their number, throws the dice over-
board, whenever he catches his men playing with them on Sunday; and a schism takes
place among them,“ because of the impiety of some of their party, Englishmen who did
not reverence the crucifix !!” (History of the Buccaneers, vol. ii. p. 180. et passim.)
These men were sailors too, and it is in extreme cases that character is most easily studied,


1921.]
Inch Keith Beacon.
341
Yet rocks bestrew Life's stormy sea,
And dangerous quicksands there abound ;
We never pause, nor turn to flee,
Till Hope is past, and wreck around.
No eye can pierce the shades of Fate,
Nor Wisdom point to Sorrow's goal ;
What heavenly light shall dissipate
The darkness of the soul ?-
And many a heart hath leapt to hail
That sparkling beacon of the deep;
And eyes been bright, with joyful tale,
That left it long ago to weep ;
The mem'ry of departed days
Will rush upon the pilgrim's mind,
More warm and hallow'd thoughts to raise
Of those he left behind.
Say, where shall Anguish rest her head,
When Sorrow's shadows lower around !
Youth's fascinating dreams are fled,
Its friends are now no longer found;
The kindness, that upheld our hearts,
Hath fled, as flashes light away,
And Memory only now imparts
Her retrospective day.
How often o'er this breezy walk,
At eve, with Friendship stray'd have I,
Pursuing themes of varied talk';
What time within the southern sky,
As day-light's western flood was stemm’d,
The orb of Venus glittered bright,-
The foremost of the train, that gemm'd
The diadem of Night.
While flowers and grass were sprinkled o'er
With diamonds of the sparkling dew;
And, homeward veering from the shore,
The congregated ravens flew;
And while the white-wing’d sea-gull rose,
To hold its solitary way,
To where the cliffs of Bass oppose
Tamtallan's quiet bay.
While, then, it burn'd, as now it burns,
On lovely nights, to memory dear;
And then it turn'd, as now it turns,
Dim-distant-fairer-brighter-clear.
The earth, since then, has lost a hue ;
The sky a tint;--the heart a string ;
Ah! never more shall Time renew
The glories of our Spring!
The Summer of the soul is past;
The Sun-shine of existence fled ;
Its flowers have bent in Sorrow's blast,
Or only blossom o'er the dead.
The bounding pulse, the glowing heart,
Affection's warmth, and Pity's tear,
Yea, all ennobling thoughts depart,
To leave us wretched here.


1821.]
543
The Landscape.
THE LANDSCAPE.
Soft roams the balmy wind, among
The deep recesses of the grove;
While, gliding thro' the starry throng,
The moon unclouded sails above,
And hovers o'er this landscape long,
For ever sanctified by Love!
And there thou art, lone alder-tree,
Whose boughs fantastically wreathe;
Dark clustering berries hang from thee,
And scent the zephyrs as they breathe :-
Yes! there thou bloom'st, but where is she,
Who oft has sate, and sigh'd beneath?
The very rose-bud in the shade,
Which long ago was planted there,
Stands in its beauty undecay'd,
As fresh, and delicately fair;
Although, unpluck'd, its roses fade,
And only charm the silent air.
How beautiful, o lonely moon,
Thy rays of silver glance and gleam,
Rejoicing in thy cloudless noon,
Upon the rushing mountain *ream !
The stars that gild the blue saloon,
Before thy face diminish'd seem.
And soft thy beams of amber light
Upon the fairy landscape fall,
Awaking dreams, in memory bright,
Past-past, but unforgotten all ;
Long years ago, on such a night
I must not thus be held in thrall.
A
THE WANDERER OF CONNAUGHT.
Oh ! Norah, when wandering afar from the shade
Of the woods, where in childhood so happy we stray'd,
From eyes that are strangers, and breasts that are cold,
My heart often turns to the pleasures of old.
Oh! Norah, my sister, how lovely and bright
The green vales of Connaught appear to my sight;
How starts the wild tear, when in thought I survey
The cabin so neat, with its children at play!
What though I am doom'd with my sorrows to roam
From Erin, my land, and the glen of my home,
From the spot, where the bones of my fathers repose,
And the stream, where the briar, and the wild lily grows;
Yet often, when midnight hangs dreary around,
And the breeze flaps the tent with a desolate sound;
On my pallet I dream of our dear sheiling fire,
And the faces that circle my mother and sire !


1821.]
Elegy on a Country Maiden.
35
She bound the wheat her William cut; the while
She bound, she look'd upon him with a smile,
Until the cool air came, and even's beams
Through the grey western cloud broke forth in streams.
Rosa was dear to him as life and light,
She was his thought by day, his dream by night ;
William and Rosa loved with such a love
As angels for each other feel above.
Ah, William ! William ! the death-bell is tolling,
And through the air the funeral hymns are rolling ;
In weeds of black the mourners slowly go,
The death-wreath waves before them to and fro!
William walks with his hymn-book in his hands,
Forward to where the grave wide open stands,
And wipes away, with the white coffin-pall,
The clear tears from his weeping eyes that fall.
Pure, guiltless maid, sleep softly,—without cumber,
Until be past for ever thy death-slumber !
Weep, Philomela !-Sing down from your hill
Your mournful dirge, when comes the twilight still !
Like sounds of harps, the evening breezes blow
Among the flowers that on her green grave grow;
Upon the church-yard lime, two turtle doves
Have built their nest, and coo their little loves.
R. H.
THE SONS OF MOOSLIM.
(From the Hindoostanee.)
When fierce Rebellion raised her head Those orphan babes had heard forlorn
In Cufa's ancient town,
Their father's cruel fate,
What sacred laws were there despised ! And now beside an ancient friend
What cruel actions done!
In weeping fear they sate.
Ere yet the king, the flame to quench, But Ibnizeead's words at last
Had given his steeds the rein,
That sheltering friend has heard,
The royal power had there been crush'd, And thence in fear he sent them forth,
The Regent Mooslim slain.
Ere dawn had yet appear'd.
And Ibnizeead's villain hand,
A caravan the children saw,
In height of rebel pride,
Far travelling o'er the wild,
Had placed the Regent's bleeding head And mid the crowd to journey on,
High o'er his castle's side.
With feeble steps they toil'd
And raging still, he call’d his men, But soon that speeding crowd was gone,
And bade them thus proclaim,
The babes bewilder'd left;
" That Mooslim's sons are here conceal'd By spreading tree and lonely stream
Wide spreads the whisper'd fame. of hope they sit bereft.,
“ And he whose traitor hands shall dare And, parch'd with thirst, with hunger faint,
Those children still to hide,
In vain they wept for food;
In bloody tears his fate shall weep They stoop'd to sip the waters cold,
Placed high by Mooslim's side."
The barren leaves they chew'd.
• The original is written by Miskeen, one of the most popular of the Hindoostanee poets. The bal
lad stanza has been adopted in the translation, as it allows of a nearer approach to the simplicity of the
original, than any other of the English metres.
The war of Yezid
(of which this story is an Episode,) took place not long after the death of Maho-
met, and was directed against Hozyn, his descendant, and successor in the sovereignty. Mooslim, (who
was likewise of the family of the prophet)
was governor of Cufa, which joined in the insurrection. Hozyn
himself with his brother Hussein, fell in the attempt to quell the rebels, and the anniversary of their death
is observed with much solemnity by the Mahometans of India. See Lord Valentia's Travels, Vol. I. Note
concerning the structures called Imaumbarah.
The river of which mention is so frequently made in the story is the Euphrates. (Forat.)
VOL. IX.
32


546
The Sons of Mooslim.
fang
Of foes pursuit in terror still,
The maid replied, “ Now come with me,
That spreading tree they clomb ; And see my mistress kind.
There hid aloft in leafy boughs
With her, sweet dame, such helpless babes
They wept their weary doom.
A mother's cares will find.
As thus they sate, a damsel kind “ What time she hears your high descent
For water sought the rill ;
From Mooslim's sacred race,
From pool beneath the spreading tree Like halo circling round the moon,
She stoop'd her gourd to fill.
Her love will you embrace."
There, imaged fair in glassy stream, With lighten'd hearts the children heard
Two little forms were seen ;
The maiden's proffers kind, -
Their infant hands they seemed to wring, And, glad descending, left their tree
And beat their bosoms sheen.
Her friendly aid to find.
The maid beheld, and rose to look 6 We'll wend with her," the children said,
Where spread the bouglis on high,
Her true intents to know :
There mid the leaves, in tears conceald, Amid the thickening gloom perchance
Two children met her eye.
Kind aid will she bestow."
“Why, children, venture thus to climb Those children sad the maid has brought
Where death awaits your fall ?
Within a cheerful home :
What grief from mother's sheltering home She told her dame their high descent,
Has forced such children small ?" Their own, their father's doom.
From leafy branch the children spoke
That tender dame has beat her breast
“ How hard our lot of pain !
The orphan babes to see :-
Our mother loved is distant far,
“Is then the royal Mooslim slain !
Our sire by traitors slain.
His children forced to flee !"
“ And he whose home received us kind In chiefest seat she placed them there,
While yet our sire remain'd,
With swcetest food she fed ;
Now fears our foes, and holds, like them, She sooth'd their wails still bursting wild,
Our name with treason stain'd.
Kind seated near their bed.
“ And, ere the dawn, he sent us forth,
As thus she dried the infants' tears,
Unshelter'd all and lone :
And lull'd them now to sleep,
A pilgrim band we sought to join, The dame has heard her husband's step,
That band afar was gone.
His voice so harsh and deep.
« And wild and lone we wander'd far, That eve, by day of fruitless toil,
No place of rest was nigh,
His breast morose was torn;
Till here this sparkling stream we saw,
He threw him down, with hunger faint,
This tree beside it high.
With jading labours wom.
“ Two weary days in terror spent, “Go, dame," he cried, “bring instant forth
Nor drink' have brought nor food; For me some readiest food.”
Here sipp'd we still the waters cold, “And what,” she said, “thou man of pride,
The barren leaflets chew'd.
Thus chafes thine angry mood ?"
6 And mid the boughs on high we sate, “ Dost thou too,” thus he cried, “inflame
A while in fear to hide ;
My soul so widely toss'd ?
Here rest we still : as Heaven decrees Lo ! fortune wanes--my favour all
Must good or ill betide."
With Ibnizeead lost."
The pitying damsel heard the tale, Th' enquiring dame replied, " And why?
And mourn'd the children's woe ;
What cause excites thy fear ?"
“ And who, my babes, your hapless sire ? “ A hopeless task,” he cried, " is given,
Give me his name to know."
Nor aid nor hope is near.
6. Our father dear was Mooslim named," For Mooslim's sons since yester morn
The children thus replied.
Keen search I've tried in vain ;
“ To us how kind his fostering love ! Their heads to Ibnizeead brought
How sad the hour he died !"
Must grace to me regain.”
“Thegood Lord Mooslim,” cried the maid, The sorrowing dame in silence wept
“ Was he your honour'd sire ?
“ What hopeless chance severe !
Has he, our sovereign's Regent high, The wretch that seeks the children's life
Here sunk by traitors' ire ?”
Now dwells beside them ncar!"
« Our father he," the children cried, The infants' room her handmaid there
“ And such his hapless doom ;
By silent signs she shew'd :
No friend his death has left us here; Shew'd there the door to lock secure,
Nor hope remains, nor home.”
And bar to all the road.


1821.)
The Sons of Mooslint.
And now her husband fill'd with food, While thus in bonds the children cried,
(Fierce Haris) sought his couch : Of aid and shelter stript,
There round him close his garment drew, Their hostess kind has heard their wail,
A while in rest to crouch.
And bitterly she wept.
The children slept; but dreams of fear Her pitying tears the tyrant saw,
Still haunted all their sleep :
To him how far unlike!
Wild shapes their troubled minds pursued, In vengeful wrath he raised his sword
The babes awaked to weep.
The tender dame to strike.
The villain Haris heard their wail, His son beheld, and rush'd between,
And starting, left his bed :
To stem his flood of rage ;
“ Some neighbouring house have robbers Him, too, the churlish tyrant smote
broke,
A youth of tenderest age.
Or mine, perchance, invade."
And now to wildest anger roused,
A gleaming torch he lighted soon,
Again the babes he seized ;
Wild searching all around ;
He dragg'd them near the river's bank,
And there at last the orphan babes
Nor yet from chains released.
On silent couch he found.
His sabre drawn, to youthful slave
He drazg'd them forth with churlish blow, He gave the naked blade ;
And many an angry word ;
My labour save ; do thou," he cried,
$ And who be ye? and what your right “ Those children here behead."
In house of mine to board ?"
The slave received the sabre keen
The weeping babes besought his grace, And thus indignant cried :
"Ah! spare our lives,” they cried, “ Thou wretch ! authority like thine
5. The train of ills you soon shall know, May well be thrown aside.
That force us here to bide.
“ Here bend thy neck; though nourish'd
" The sons of Mooslim we: our sire
kind
By traitors lace was slain.
From youth within thy home,
Save Heaven alone, no sheltering friends Thy cruel deeds my heart have steeld,
To us for aid remain.
My hand shall strike thy doom."
“ And late, by heavenly guidance led, Fierce Haris heard his slave's rebuke,
Thy sheltering home we found;
And snatch'd again the blade ;
Thy dame was kind and good, but thou With stroke of death his servant there
Givest blows and bitter wound.
Amid the dust he laid.
“ O let thine aid with her's be given, He shew'd the babes his streaming blood,
Our orphan steps to guide,
And o'er them shook his sword
To lead where lives our
uncle far, Then, wiping slow, he sheath'd the blade,
Or aid us here to hide.
And spoke his cruel word.
“ Thus thou shalt too the blessings reap Strip off your vests,” he cried, " was e'er,
That wait the orphan's stay.”
A shroud to traitors given ?
Th' unpitying villain saw them weep, There, sit you close, like thistle tops
Unheeding heard them pray.
Your heads will soon be driven.
With piercing cord he bound them there,
" Alas !” the children cried, "thy rage,
With jagging sword he gored ;
Can nought appease but blood ?
To chamber dark he drove them fierce, Ah ! cruel! wilt thou slay thy guests
The prisoning doors he barr'd.
The bahes that shared thy food ?
Now morn arrived ; with sabre drawn u O send us forth as slaves to sell,
The babes he went to find ;
The gain shall all be thine :-
He dragg'u them forth, with cruel hand Some village sack'd, thy tale may say,
Within their locks entwined.
And these are captives mine.
With tyrant grasp he shook them there, “ Our tresses cut, our vestments changed..
Till all their locks were torn;
Attired in mean array,
Far, far, their infant cries were heard Some lord of slaves to wildest land,
As thus they waiťd forlorn.
Will bear us far away ;
" What place of cruel deeds is this ! “ And thou, with thanks and riches blest,
No father hears our cry!
Shall home contented hie.?
Ņo hand from bitter blows can shield, The villain frown'd, “Such childish game
None aid from death to fly!
In vain with me you try.
“ What savage wretch art thou, to grasp.
4 Nor hence alive shall you be led,
A babe's dishevell’d hair ?
Nor other land shall sce:
Why shakest thou-thus our infant locks, My foes would gladly meet you there,
With blows and angry stare ?".
Then what the gain to me?


1821.]
The Sons of Mooslim.
549
The murderer gazed and fear'd to die ; There Haris fell : his lifeless corse
“ O spare my life," he said,
Amid the stream was thrown ;
“ My hoarded wealth shall all be thine, His soul awaits its endless doom
If thou my flight wilt aid."
At Allah's awful Throne.
“ Like grace be thine," Mocaubil cried,
“ As thou to others shew'd :
Those sands thy villain blood shall drink,
Where late the children's flowed."
SHAGIRD.
SIB THOMAS BROWNE'S LETTER TO A FRIEND.
Amongst the original branches of our undertaking, we proposed to reprint
occasionally such short pieces as, from their brevity, their interest, or their
curiosity, appeared to deserve a better fate than oblivion or neglect. From the
great press of our original matter, we have not yet had an opportunity of car-
rying this intention into execution. We have been induced, however, to re-
print the following Tract of Sir T. Browne’s, partly because the book from
which it is taken is very scarce, and partly because we believe it is the least
known of any of his writings. It is exceedingly curious and interesting, and
though it wants the sombre grandeur and depth of the Urn-burial, it exhibits
the same singular spirit of discursive inquiry, which never forsook the author
on these topics, and which was never more at home than when near “ the
mouldering cearments of the grave." So much has lately been written upon
Browne, (by the bye, we see the Cockneys have seized upon him as their pro-
perty, as if a Cockney could understand Sir T. Browne,) that we will not abuse
the patience of our readers, as Bobadil says, by prolixity. We shall merely
remark, that we understand a new edition of the most valuable of his works is
preparing, and we scarcely know any thing which would be a more valuable
present to the literary world. Our readers must be apprized that we have omit-
ted the conclusion in our reprint, as it merely consists of a string of sentences
taken from the Christian Morals, which were probably added in that carelesse
ness of revision which always attends the publishing of posthumous tracts.
LETTER TO A FRIEND, UPON OCCASION OF THE DEATH OF HIS
INTIMATE FRIEND.
Give me leave to wonder that news of in that famous story that spirits themselves
this nature should have such heavy wings, were fain to tell their fellows at a distance
that you should hear so little concerning that the great Antonio was dead, we have
your dearest friend, and that I must make a sufficient excuse for our ignorance in such
that unwilling repetition to tell you, ad particulars, and must rest content with the
portam rigidos calces extendit, that he is common road and Appian way of know.
dead and buried, and by this time no puny ledge, by information. Though the uncer-
among the mighty nations of the dead; for tainty of the end of this world hath con.
though he left this world not very many days founded all human predictions, yet they
past, yet every hour, you know,largely addeth shall live to see the sun and moon darkened,
unto that dark society; and, considering the and the stars to fall from heaven, will hard.
incessant mortality of mankind, you can. ly be deceived in the advent of the last day ;
not conceive there dieth, in the whole earth, and therefore strange it is, that the com-
so few as a thousand an hour. Although mon fallacy of consumptive persons, who
at this distance you had no early account or feel not themselves dying, and therefore
particular of his death, yet your affection still hope to live, should also reach their
may cease to wonder that you had not some friends in perfect health and judgment.
secret sense or intimation thereof by dreams, That you should be so little acquainted
thoughtful whisperings, mercurisms, airy with Plautus's sick complexion, or that alo.
nuncios, or sympathetical insinuations, mostan Hippocratical face should not
which many seem to have had at the death alarm you to higher fears, or rather despair
of their dearest friends ; for since we find of his continuation in such an emaciated


552
Sir Thomas Browne's Letter to a Friend.
[Aug.
diviners conjectured, that he would be not ; yet scarce twenty years ago Monsieur
spoiled of his kingdom, and have but a du Loys observed, that a third part of that
short life : But hairs make fallible predic- people halted ; bat too certain it is, that the
tions, and many temples early grey have rickets increaseth among us ; the small-pox
outlived the psalmist's period. Hairs which grows more pernicious than the great. The
have most amused me have not been in the king's purse knows that the king's evil
face or head, but on the backs; and not in grows more common. Quartan agues are
men, but children ; as I long ago observed become no strangers in Ireland ; more com-
in that endemial distemper of little children mon and mortal in England; and though
in Languedoc, called the Morgellons, † the ancients gave that disease & very good
wherein they critically break out with harsh words, yet now that bell makes no strange
hairs on their backs, which takes off the un- sound which rings out for the effects thereof.
quiet symptoms of the disease, and delivers Some think there were few consumptions
them from coughs and convulsions.
in the old world, when men lived much
The Egyptian mummies that I have upon milk; and that the ancient inhabit-
seen, have had their mouths open, and some ants of this island were less troubled with
what gaping, which affordeth a good oppor. coughs when they went naked, and slept in
tunity to view and observe their teeth, caves and woods, than men now in cham-
wherein it is not easy to find any wanting bers and feather-beds. Plato will tell us, that
or decayed; and therefore in Egypt, where there was no such disease as a catarrh in
one man practised but one operation, or the Homer's time, and that it was but new in
diseases but of single parts, it must needs Greece in his age. Polydore Virgil deli-
be a barren profession to confine unto that vereth that pleurises were rare in England,
of drawing of teeth, and little better than who lived but in the days of Henry the
to have been tooth-drawer unto King Pyr- Eighth. Some will allow no diseases to be
rhus, who had but two in his head. How new, others think that many old ones are
the Banyans of India maintain the integri. ceased ; and that such which are esteemed
ty of those parts, I find not particularly ob- new, will have but their time. However,
served ; who notwithstanding have an ad. the mercy of God hath scattered the great
vantage of their preservation by abstaining heap of diseases, and not loaded any one
from all flesh, and employing their teeth in country with all. Some may be new in one
such food unto which they may seem at country which have been old in another.
first framed, from their figure and confor- New discoveries of the earth discover new
mation ; but sharp and corroding rheums diseases ; for, besides the common swarm,
had so early mouldered those rocks and there are endemial and local infirmities pro-
hardest parts of his fabric, that a man might per unto certain regions, which, in the whole
well conceive that his years were never like earth, make no small number ; and if Asia,
to double or twice tell over his teeth. || Cor- Africa, and America, should bring in their
ruption had dealt more severely with them list, Pandora's box would swell, and there
than sepulchral fires, and smart flames, with must be a strange pathology.
those of burnt bodies of old ; for in the Most men expected to find a consumed
burnt fragments of urns which I have in. kell, empty and bladder-like guts, livid and
quired into, although I seem to find few in- marbled lungs, and a withered pericardium
cisors or shearers, yet the dog.teeth and in this exuccous corps; but some seemed
grinders do notably resist those fires. too much to wonder that two lobes of his
In the years of his childhood he had lan- lungs adhered unto his side ; for the like I
guished under the disease of his country, the had often found in bodies of no suspected
rickets ; after which, notwithstanding many consumptions or difficulty of respiration.
have been become strong and active men; And the same more often happeneth in men
but whether any have attained unto very than other animals ; and some think in wo-
great years, the disease is scarce so old as men than in men ; but the most remarkable
to afford good observation.
I have met with was in a man after a cough
Whether the children of the English of almost fifty years, in whom all the lobes
plantations be subject unto the same infir- adhered unto the pleura, and each lobe
mity, may be worth the observing ; whether unto another ; who, having also been much
lameness and halting de still increase among troubled with the gout, brake the rule of
the inhabitants of Rovigno io Istria, I know Cardan, ** and died of the stone in the blad-
The life of a man is threescore and ten.
† See Picotus de Rheumatismo.
# His upper and lower jaw being solid, and without distinct rows of teeth.
| Twice tell over his teeth, never live to threescore years.
ģ'Asqaniçalos tai prisos, securrissima et facillima. Hippoc. Pro febre quarlana raro sonat
Campano.
So A. F.
** Cardan, in his Encomium Podagra, reckoneth this among the Dona Podagra, that there are deli
vered thereby from the pthysis and stone in the bladder.
13


834
Sir Thomas Browne's Letter to a Friend.
[Aug,
in a sleepless fit of the gout could make what variety men are deluded into the pur.,
two hundred verses in a niglit, would have suit of that which is not here to be found.
but five * plain words upon his tomb, And And although he had no opinion of reputed
this serious person, though no minor wit, felicities below, and apprehended men wide.
left the poetry of his epitaph unto others ; ly out in the estimate of such happiness;
either unwilling to commend himself, or to yet his sober contempt of the world wrought
be judged by a distich, and perhaps consi. no Democratism or Cynicisın, no laughing
dering how unhappy great poets have been or snarling at it, as well understanding there
in versifying their own epitaphs : whereia are not felicities in this world to satisfy a
Petrarcha, Dante, and Ariosto, have so un- serious mind; and therefore to soften the
happily failed, that if their tombs should stream of our lives, we are fain to take on
out-last their works, posterity would find the reputed contentations of this world, to
80 little of Apollo on them, as to mistake unite with the crowd in their beatitudes, and
them for Ciceronian poets.
to make ourselves happy by consortion,
In this deliberate and creeping progress opinion, or co-existimation ; for strictly to
unto the grave, he was somewhat too young, separate from received and customary feli-
And of too noble a mind, to fall upon that cities, and to confine unto the rigor of
stupid symptom observable in divers persons realities, were to contract the consolation
near their journey's end, and which may be of our beings unto two uncomfortable cir.
reckoned among the mortal symptoms of cumscriptions.
their last disease ; that is, to become more Not to fear death, t nor desire it, was
Darrow minded, miserable and tenacious, un- short of his resolution : to be dissolved,
ready to part with any thing, when they are and be with Christ, was his dying ditty.
ready to part with all, and afraid to want He conceived his thread long, in no long
when they have no time to spend ; meancourse of years, and when he had scarce oute
while physicians, who know that many are lived the second life of Lazarus I ; esteem-
mad but in a single depraved imagination, ing it enough to approach the years of his
and one prevalent decipiency; and that be- Saviour, who so ordered his own human
side and out of such single deliriums a man state, as not to be old upon earth.
may meet with sober actions and good sense But to be content with death may be bet-
in Bedlam ; cannot but smile to see the ter than to desire it : a miserable life may
heirs and concerned relations, gratulating make us wish for death, but a virtuous one
themselves in the sober departure of their to rest in it; which is the advantage of those
friends; and though they behold such mad resolved Christians, who looking on death
covetous passages, content to think they not only as the sting, but the period and end
die in good understanding, and in their so- of sin, the horizon and isthmus between
ber senses
this life and a better, and the death of this
Avarice, which is not only infidelity but world but as the nativity of another, do con-
idolatry, either from covetous progeny or tentedly subinit unto the common necessity,
questuary education, had no root in his and envy not Enoch nor Elias.
breast who made good works the expression Not to be content with life, is the unsatis.
of his faith, and was big with desires unto factory state of those which destroy them-
public and lasting charities ; and surely selves, 3 who being afraid to live, run blind-
where good wishes and charitable intentions ly upon their own death, which no man fears
exceed abilities, theorical beneficiency may by experience ; and the Stoics had a notable
be more than a dream. They build not doctrine to take away the fear thereof, that
castles in the air who would build churches is, in such extremities to desire that which
on earth ; and though they leave no such is not to be avoided, and wish what might
structures here, may lay good foundations be feared ; and so made evils voluntary, and
in Heaven. In brief, his life and death to suit with their own desires, which took
were such, that I could not blame them off the terror of them.
who wished the like, and almost to bave But the ancient martyrs were not encou-
been himself; almost, I say; for though we raged by such fallacies; who though they
may wish the prosperous appurtenances of feared not death, were afraid to be their own
others, or to be another in his happy acci, executioners ; and therefore thought it more
dents; yet so intrinsical is every man unto wisdom to crucify their lusts than their bo-
himself, that some doubt may be made, dies, to circumcise than stab their hearts,
whether any would change his being, or and to mortify than kill themselves.
substantially become another man.
His willingness to leave this world about
He had wisely seen the world at home that age, when most men think they may
and abroad, and thereby observed under best enjoy it, though paradoxical untu
* Julii Cæsaris Scaligeri, quod fuit. Joseph. Scaliger in vita patris.
Summum nec metuas diem nec optes.
# Who upon some accounts, and tradition, is said to have lived 30 years after he was raised by our
Saviour. Baronius.
$ In the speech of Vulteius in Lucan, animating his soldiers in a great struggle to kill one another.
Decernite Lethum et metus omnis abest, cupias quodcunque necesse est. All fear is over, do but resolve to
die, and make your desires meet necessity.


Sir Thomas Browne's Letter to a Friend.
$55
worldly ears, was not strange unto mine, Though age had set no seal upon his face,
who have so often observed, that many yet a dim eye might clearly discover fifty in
though old, oft stick fast unto the world, and his actions; and therefore, since wisdom is
seem to be drawn like Cacus's oxen, back- the gray hair, and an unspotted life old age ;
ward, with great struggling and reluctance, although his years came short, he might have
into the grave. The long habit of living been said to have held up with longer livers,
makes mere men more hardly to part with and to have been Solomon's old man. And
life, and all to be nothing, but what is to surely if we deduct all those days of our life
come. To live at the rate of the old world, which we might wish unlived, and which
when some could scarce remember them. abate the comfort of those we now live ; if
selves young, may afford no better digested we'reckon up only those days which God hath
death than a more moderate period. Many accepted of our lives, a life of good years
would have thought it an happiness to have will hardly be a span long : the son in this
had their lot of life in some notable conjunc. sense, may out-live the father, and none be
ture of ages past ; but the uncertainty of fu• climaterically old. He that early arriveth
ture times hath tempted few to make a part unto the parts and prudence of age, is hap-
in ages to come. And surely, he that hath pily old without uncomfortable attendants
taken the true altitude of things, and right. of it; and 'tis superfluous to live unto grey
ly calculated the degenerate state of this age, hairs, when in a precocious temper we an-
is not likely to envy those that shall live in ticipate the virtues of them. In brief, he
the next, much less three or four hundred cannot be accounted young who out-liveth
years hence, when no man can comfortably the old man. He that hath early arrived
imagine what face this world will carry. unto the measure of a perfect stature in
And therefore since every age makes a step Christ, hath already fulfilled the prime and
unto the end of all things, and the Scrip- longest intention of his being ; and one day
ture affords so hard a character of the last lived after the perfect rule of piety, is to be
times ; quiet minds will be content with preferred before sinning immortality.
their generations, and rather bless ages past
than be ambitious of those to come.
• Wisdom, cap. iv.
THE PLAGUE OF DARKNESS, A DRAMATIC SCENE FROM THE EXODUS.
[TimeBeginning of the First Day of the Darkness.)
Moses and CALEB alone, watching.
Caleb. Is it thy will, that longer we remain
Upon this mountain's summit? Lo! young Day
Doth wearily unclose his sleepy eye,
For slowly comes the radiance which it sheds
On our oppressed land! No joy to Jacob
Brings the bright sun-beam; for, with his first glance,
Comes the fierce Tasker, and, with goad and lash,
Drives to the stubble-field the weeping race
Of him, Jehovah's chosen, the loved friend
Of angels, and of spirits! Their bound limbs
Are tortur'd by the beam, their free-born sires
Were wont to court and bless; and when they sink,
Worn by th' intolerable burthen down,
The scorpion-whip doth lash them to new life,
Or rob them of the wretched remnant left.-
But let us down, and bid them stand prepared,
Nor murmur when they are required to raise
New treasure-domes for Pharaoh.
Moses (not heeding him.)
Yes, thou art
The Terrible! the Just!—The might of man,
What is it, Lord, before thee! Thou dost close
Thine eye of glory, and dark night descends;
Thou ope'st it, and 'tis light. Thy breathing is
The rage of tempests; and thy face, O God,
Who can behold and live!


$36
[Aug.
The Plague of Darkness.
Caleb. Jehovah's hand
Is on his servant now. From his pale brow
Darts forth the mystic light, whose lustrous blaze
Scorches my human eye-balls. His high form
Becomes gigantic, and his clustering locks,
Darker than night, swept by the Mighty Spirit,
Wave in wild motion, and their homage pay
To the invisible presence of the power
Which every where surrounds him.
Moses.
Hark! He comes !
The One!-the Terrible !-the Lord of Woe! -
The Angel of his Terrors !-On the air
I hear the rushing of his mighty wings;
His broad palm bears the darkness, the dire pall
Of miserable Egypt !-Hark! He comes !
Woe, to thee, Egypt, woe!
Caleb.
It is the Spirit,
The Over-Ruling, which is passing o'er us!
The day is bright and clear; yet, in the air,
I hear the sound of tempests. All the winds
Girdle his chariot-wheels.—My brow is cold,
My breath is thick, and o'er my quivering limbs
Breaks the damp glow of fear! I will fall down,
Nor see him pass above me.
Moses.
Hail, o hail !
Thou Lord of Judgment!-Lo! He comes; but not
In light-created vestments, nor his brow
Circled by fire ethereal, nor his form
Shooting forth sparkles of immortal light,
Each one a brilliant day; but now he rides
The stern submissive whirlwind, in his purpose
Robed as in some dark garment, like the cloak
Which ancient Chaos wore, before the smile
Of God, illumining the dark abyss,
Created light.-He comes, the Terrible!
In judgment mantled dark, as darkest death!
Before him horror, and behind despair !
[Stands motionless.
Joshua enters.
Josh. Master, the people murmur at thine absence;
And now, impatient of thy presence, come
With slow steps up the mountain.
The People.
Why hast thou left us? Why hast thou provok'd
The rage of Pharaoh, and thy children left
To bear his anger's weight? – icave us, father;
Reprove no more, but leave us in our bondage.
Moses. Hush, hush ! let him not hear! for scarcely yet
Hath he pass’d onward to his dreadful post;
The loosen'd feathers of his jet black wings
Are floating yet above us.- Silence, silence !
Let him not hear thee, Jacob; for he goes
Brimful of wrath, the wine-cup in his hand!
Let not one drop be thine.
People. What shall we do?
Moses. Be silent, and be humble.
Good
Leader sage;
PHARAOH on his Throne. JocHANI. MAMRI. Nobles.
[Time-The Third Day of the Darkness.]
Phar. Shut out those groans! I will not hear these cries
Of horrible despair !-What, more than they,


1891.3
The Plague of Darkness.
359
Ramp. Son of the ancient Word, eldest of kings!
Let not the light'ning of thy wrath destroy
The lowliest of thy servants, if he pray
That, in thy wisdom, thou betray not scorn
Against that God of terrors-Thou dost know him,
And Egypt trembles still, e'en midst this darkness,
At the remember'd horrors of his might.-
Knew she not him amidst the horrid plague
Of the fierce murrain, which destroy'd her flocks,
Broke loathsome on our bodies, struck our wives,
Smote our young babes, and made even these proud men,
These magic-rampired sages, flee for shame,
And hide their livid bodies from the scorn
That sternly laugh’d within the heaven-lit eye
Of Nile's adopted son !-Oh knew she not
The God, by this no stranger, in the storm
On which he rode, when, scattering the hail,
He lit the sons of Egypt to their graves
By flames of lurid light’ning !-But, О king !
If not for fear, at least for pity, hear
The voice of Israel's leader;-look upon
The sufferings of thy people, for thy sake
Plunged in unutterable woe.-The plague
So sudden fell upon them, that no thought
Was taken for their safety-in the fields
Were many when it fell, and they sunk down,
E’en in the spot it found them, and expired,
Believing the red fiend had broken loose
From his hard bondage in the Sirbon lake,
And, with its pois'nous exhalations, choaked
The wholesome breath of earth. And there was one
Who crawld through that black mist--an only son,
To meet his mother, for he heard her voice
Guiding him to her side,-he crawld and crept,
Until, when to a precipice he came,
He thought he grasp'd her garment-it was nought
But the thick air he caught-he slipp’d, and dash'd
Hundreds of fathoms down, o'er pointed rocks,
'Gainst which his mangled body struck, ere he,
Blown by mirac'lous tempests to and fro,
Reach'd his terrific bed, the boiling wave;-
His horrid shriek broke on his mother's ear,
And with it-sure in mercy-on her soul
Rolld wild insanity; and now she goes
Crawling and groping through the dull, black air,
For that same spot from whence her darling fell,
Meaning to tread that path ; and then, when fails
Her wearied strength, and she has found it not,
Still from her bosom heaves the same sad sound-
“ It is not here ! it is not here!”-and then
Bursts from her lips the echo of that scream,
Which she, unconscious of her loss, believes
Is utter'd by her son to guide her steps
Unto the spot which shelters him. There was
Another wretch, who, crouching to the earth,
Sat, in a toad-like form, within a cave,
And shriek'd herself to death with horrid fear
At the strange shapes her madden'd fancy had
Conjured from out the darkness. Some there are,
Fainting for hunger, hear their infants' cries,
Yet cannot find them food, nor reach the spot,
To yield the comfort that their fond embrace
To the poor babes might give.—The husband cries


1991.)
The Last Plague.
303
I call thee by the power of Him who reigns
O'er thee, and hath permitted thy dread being,
As the stern doer of his mighty will,
The servant of his vengeance. Come, O come,
I call thee, King of Death, approach and strike
All the first-born of Egypt !
(Pause.)
It is done!
(Pause-Voices without—Deep groans.)
Woe, woe, unutterable woe!
Caleb.
0, hark;
Whence, leader, is that melancholy sound,
That heavy groan?
Moses.
It is a kingdom's voice,
Lamenting o'er her first born. I can hear
The quick sob of maternal agony,
The shriek of female anguish; and I see
The stern grief of the father, who beholds
The ruin of his hopes—his first-born son
Laid still and cold before him—he is silent,
For the proud sorrow is too mighty for
The feeble war of words.-0 mournful sight!
The bosom of each mother is, ere now,
The grave of her sweet son ;—for there it lies,
The wither'd Lotus, on the mourning stream,
From whence it drew its life and nourishment.
Euter Jochani.
Joch. Hence from our bleeding land ! King Pharoah sends
His hasty mandate to ye-speed ye hence
As swiftly as ye may; this blighted land
Will long remember Israel ; his name
May parallel with Typhon's—from the throne
Unto the lowliest hut, the owner's heart
Bears in deep characters of blood, the name
Indelible of Jacob.
Enter MAMRI.
Mam.
Fly from Egypt,
Fly, while our king yet lives—our people send
Their riches now to bribe your swift departure.
Here are the gems ye ask'd for, silver, gold,
Treasures incalculable, all the heaps
That Egypt hath for ages call’d her own,
Take them, and get ye gone !
Enter RAMPSINItis with his dead son, which he luys at Moses feet.
Ramp.
The sacrifice
Unto your aweful God is made ! Look there !
Mine own, mine elélest born! 0, go-80, go,
Lest Pharoah change-lest I, in maduess, rush
Upon thy first born, Jacob !- My sweet child !-
The gory drink, the livid boils, the hail,
The lurid lightning, tenant of the air,
That did domesticate itself on earth,
And walk'd upon her bosom! Locusts, fear,
Famine, and darkness, all, unshrinkingly
I bore! But this—0, this !--Begone! for I
Have yet another son !
Moses.
Jehovah heal
Thy bitter sorrows !- Israel, onward now,
The God of Abraham guides thee! Yea, behold


364
The Last Plague.
[Ang.
He comes in visible form to lead ye forth
Through the drear wilderness, and stranger lands-
Yea, tremble, Jacob, bow thee to the dust,
And kiss the earth, now doubly sanctified
By his Almighty presence. In yon cloud
He hides his terrors from your human eyes,
And only shows his mercy !-Forward, Israel,
With fearless heart, and firm-set foot advance,
Follow your mighty leader; as ye go,
Charm his immortal ear with humble praise,
And heart-felt gratitude for boundless mercy!
Ou to the fee air of the wilderness !
On to the desarts, where po tyrant reigns !
What though our feet no rich green turf shall press,
We walk unshackled, broken are our chains !
And rather on that burning soil
Would we through war and dangers toil—
Rather the free pure air, which now
Circles each, once more, free-born brow,
Should catch our latest breath, than we
Should draw it in captivity.
Fair wast thou, Egypt, 0, surpassing fair!
Thy beauteous brow, endiadem'd with flowers,
The song and music, breath'd in thy sweet air,
And time was ever young in thy bright bowers.
Fair were the fruits that courted the dry lip,
Rosy the wine that bade the captive sip,
Beauteous the scenes that in thy bosom lie,
But we beheld them with a captive's eye,
Scorning thy gifts, and looking for the hand,
Which from our hearts should rend oppression's band,
From deep distressing bondage set us free,
Give us the wilderness and liberty !
And now that hand is outstretch'd from on high,
To lead us through the long and dreary road,
From the sad cells of dark captivity,
Unto the promis'd land, our bless’d abode.
In thee, O God of glory, we confide
To thee our hope, our own Almighty Guide.
O may our songs of mingled joy and fear,
Ascend, Jehovah, to thy pleased ear.
Rise, sound of transport, and upon thy wing
Bear the pavillion'd throne of Israel's King.
Rise, sounds of gratitude, with one accord,
Speak Jacob's love unto his mighty Lord.
Say, glory, honour, excellence, to thee,
Thou giver of all good, bless'd liberty !
NOTES.
Note I.
IV hat Balaam's Sons, &c.
Pharoah's magicians, who sometimes successfully opposed Moses, the Jannes and Jam-
bres of St Paul, are in the Talmud, celebrated as Jochani and Mamri. They were suppo-
sed by the Jews to have been the sons of Balaam, and to have perished with their fa.
ther in Midian. Others assert, that they were drowned with the Egyptians at the pass.
age of the Red Sea.


1821.]
The Last Plague.
565
Note II.
Father Nile
An Anachronism. Egyptus was the early name of this River. It was not till after
the reign of Sesostris it received its second name from King Nilus, who, cutting several
canals through the country, and endeavouring to render the river as serviceable as pos-
sible to Egypt, it was re-baptized by the grateful people after him.
Note III.
Thou who art all that hath been, &c.
The inscription on the Temple of Neith, at Sais.
Note IV.
Voiceless doth the Sistrum stand.
Isis was frequently represented with horns, signifying the appearance of the moon in
her increase and decrease ; a sistrum, (or cymbal) in her right hand, and a pitcher in
her left.-HERODOTUS.
For the history of Osiris, Typhon, Isis, and Orus, see Diodorus and Plutarch.
ON PSALM-SINGING IN OUR CHURCHES, WITH SOME OBSERVATIONS UPON
THE PROPOSED ADDITIONAL PSALMODY."
DEAR SIR,
Now, what I complain of, Sir, is
There is not a more becoming, or this:-Under our present tendency to
a more Christian part of public wor modernize and new-model whatever is
ship, than the singing of psalms and old and antiquated, I am afraid this
hymns to the praise of God, with one ancient, and truly Presbyterian and
voice, and with one heart. A large animating exercise of psalm-singing,
and closely compacted congregation, is in danger of falling into disuse.
fully imbued with pious and devo- There has sprung up amongst us a
tional feeling, and giving utterance to reforming race-men strangely gifted
their whole soul in the fellowship and in point of ears—who take grievous
unison of some well known and solemn offence at the monotonous “ croon" of
tune, is a fine object of moral contem our old wives, and at the drawling
plation and reflection, and presents no discordance of our old church-tunes,
unimpressive assimilation to the atti, who go into committees and associa-
tude and employment of the “ happy tions, with a suitable et cetera of
assembly of the Church of the First ways and means," in order to have
born." - When every individual wor bands of vocal music planted around
shipper shares in the worship offer- our pulpits, and responding singing
ed, --when the same word, the same pipes at convenient intervals through
sentiment, the same hopes, the same the church ; in consequence of which,
faith, the same love of God-are pass- the task, or rather the privilege of
ing through so many minds and ap- praising God, with the most perfect,
prehensions, and hallowing, with the as well as the most suitable of all mu-
stream of one common purification, sical organs--the human voice—is re-
the same hearts, at one and the same moved from the congregation—from
time, what an accession, in point of the “people all”—and devolved up-
intensity and strength of devotional on a few spinning Jennies and wea-
feeling, is gained !- There is a kind of ver Jockies, who twine out the la-
electrical communication acting and byrinths of God's praise, and knot in
re-acting from voice to voice, and from the threads and ends of public devo-
soul to soul, and each individual wor- tion, with nearly the same apprehen-
shipper feels, as it were, the accumu. sions of religious feeling with which
lated devotion of the whole assembly. they go through the routine and task-
It is like standing in the ranks of fel. ing of their daily work.
lowship whilst the battle rages, Having occasion, a few days ago, to
experiencing, from mutual confidence officiate, in my clerical capacity, in a
and reliance, a courage an esprit de neighbouring burgh pulpit, and being
corps—which would not exist were about (as I considered the singing of
every soldier stationed in individual the first, or morning psalm to be con-
and unaccompanied exertion.
cluded) to proceed, in all due solem-


366
On Psalm-singing in our Churches.
[Aug.
nity, to prayer, and having actually rather an injudicious man, --more than
advanced with the second sentence of one cautionary hint upon the subject;
my address to Heaven, I was not a but I fancy, that until I can find ways
little surprised to find that the music and means of suppressing a singing
had only been suspended for a little, * school which has crept into the vil-
and that, from a distant corner of the lage, I shall never have any security
gallery, into which it had returned to on this score. It was but last Sabbath,
take advantage of the sinuosities of no further gone, that, owing to the in-
some extremely delicate female pipe, terruption occasioned by an old wo-
it was now bursting down upon the man, who told him plainly," she wad
body of the church, in full swell and sing her Maker's praise, in spite o’him,
tide, and overpowering in its pro- wi' a' her heart,” he was fairly untuned
gress every feebler note of opposition in one of his outrageously delicate
I was enabled to make. It was not till octaves, and compelled to have re-
after the same concluding, and, (as I course to the sober and less intricate
imagined, in the obesity of my musical notes of the Martyrs to bear him
apprehension,) the concluded line, had through.
been hung, and halved, and quartered But this, even this aggravated and
several times over, into jerks, and jets, highly-seasoned absurdity, does not
and “twirliewhirlies,” of the most comprehend the full reach of the evil.
astonishing character, that I could Do you know, Sir, it has not only be-
obtain an audience. Now, sir, all come impossible, from the difficulty
the while that God's praise was thus of the tunes, but absolutely unfa-
portioned out into parts and quavers, shionable, from the enormity of affec-
the old women, who were seated tation, to praise God at all. To crook
upon the pulpit stair, were as mute one's mouth, or to model one's lips
as if their tongues had already been into the attitude of psalm-singing, is
silenced by the sexton's spade, and downright vulgarity. The laird's fa-
the youn; men and women seemed mily, with the exception of the dow-
to be employed in carefully and re- ager-lady,who, from indisposition, sel-
peatedly surveying the walls of the doin comes out, are silent; all my
church, the state of the pews, and the genteel farmers, and the most of them
various habiliments in which each fel- consider themselves, and are entitled to
low-worshipper happened to be attired. do so, as belonging to this class, have, of
In fact, the congregation seemed to course, caught the air of the carpet-
me to present the aspect of spectators ed gallery above, and are dumb.-
in an opera-house, for whose gratifica- They generally, I can observe, when
tion and entertainment a certain quan- at times I take a sly peep at them
tity of modulated air was thurst, in through my fingers, employ themselves
different proportions, through the whilst the psalm is singing in lay-
wind-pipes of a few exhibitive per- ing themselves up, arms a-kimbo, in
formers.
one of the four corners of their pew,
Now, what our burgh churches do, or in surveying, with a discrimina-
our country parishes are very apt to ting and congratulatory eye, the ama-
mimic. I have been under the neces- zing and gratifying effects of Day
sity of giving my own precentor, and Martin's blacking. The handi-
who, though an honest, is a young and craft men are in a state of defection,
Similar to this is the incident which befel a brother of the profession, if tradition
is to be “ in aught believed.”—He had visited London, and seen, amongst other tricks
of pulpit "oratory,” “Sheridan's pauses” exhibited. During his first sermon, after
his return to his own parish and flock, he had taken occasion, at the termination of a
very impassioned and Chalmers'-wrought-up sentence or paragraph, to stop all of a
sudden, and pause in “ mute unbreathing silence.” The precentor, who had taken ad-
vantage of his immemorial privilege to sleep out the sermon, imagining, from the ces-
sation of sound, that the discourse was actually brought to a close, started up, with some
degree of agitation, and in an audible, though somewhat flustered voice, read out his
usual " Remember in prayer"_“ Hout man!” exclaimed the good natured orator over
his head, placing, at the same time, his hand upon his shoulders, “ Hout, Jamie man !
what's the matter wi' ye the day?-d'ye no ken I hae nae done yet?-that's only ane os
Sheridan's pauses, man!”
5


1821.]
On Psalm-singing in our Churches.
567
me.
and the village innkeeper has already byterian worship, has been subject-
gone over; so that, but for the How- ed to that degrading and revolting
dy, who stands in awe of the Mis- contamination, the progress of which
tress, with a large and still untainted I have been attempting to trace. It
proportion of villagers, bothymen, and is quite true, sir, that many of our
cottars, who have not the sense to be young preachers,” and even some of
genteel, the whole burden of the praise the more advanced veterans of liberal
-as we have no burgh“ singing boys sentiment and moderation, have ceased
and singing girls,”-would, of neces to praise God in public. They give out
sity, devolve upon the precentor and the psalm, they say the prayers, and
they read their sermons ; but further
But, what pains as well as astonish- they do not proceed. They are a race,
es me most of aıl, is the fact, that my too, of comely men ; and when their
daughters, my own daughters,—both shirt necks are set up to their ears, and
Eliza, who is named after her mother, the front tuft is brushed back, and the
Betty,—and Grace, who takes her neckcloth is adjusted, and the ruffles
Christian appellation from her aunty and bands are smoothed down, they
Grizzy,-of whom I had every rea- look it, and manner it, and often word
son, from the pious education which it well ; but what time so proper for all
they have received, to expect better this preparation and adjustment, as
things,--my own flesh and blood, sir, whilst the psalm is a-singing !-Proh
have lifted up the heel against me, nefas! When even the very “ ark of
and have absolutely ceased to make the testimony” is not sacred from con-
any public demonstration in God's tamination, what will become of us ?
praise.
I have no patience for such unseemly
And this is all owing, and I know it profanation ; and rather than see a fop
well, though when your Magazine, or a fool of this description in my pul-
containing this averment, arrives, pit, I would prefer the grinning physi-
they will deny it stoutly-it is all ow ognomy of the monkey, or the wink-
ing to a visit we lately were favoured ing stupidity of the hog! How can we
with, from an East India Nabob, a dis- expect, Mr Christopher, that our con-
tant relation of their own, whom they gregations should take an interest in
insist: upon calling cousin; and who, the praises in which we ourselves, who
it seems, is esteemed the very pink of minister at God's altar, join not !-
gentility in these parts. At him, I “May all sing thy praises,” are the
could perceive them through the whole words of our prayers, “ with devotion
week, dressing, and setting, as they in our hearts, making melody unto God
term it, their caps; and of a most with our lips.” There is mockery and
portentous compass, they are more downright profanity, Mr North, in
like landing nets for fishi, than traps this thing; and if, by publishing this
for men; and by his they appeared staternent, you can bring into deser-
resolved, whatever might betide, to as ved contempt one single perversity of
sert their morals, as well as their man this description, you will do something
ners. For this “ stupendous man of to restore meaning to our public acts
travel and riches," having, during the of devotion and praise, and you will
psalm-singing one Sabbath, twisted and give satisfaction to every truly pious
whirled round betwixt his finger and Presbyterian worshipper.“ Immedi-
thumb, a large peony rose, at the cabile vulnus ense rescidendum, ne pars
same time that his lips were compress sincera trahatur.” We must go bold-
ed even to the somewhat unseemly pro- ly to work ; we must run the risk of
trusion of the under one, that there twisting the very soul of the guilty, as
might remain no doubt of his silence, well as of offending the corny sensibi-
my daughters, who were keeping ra- lities of their friends and relatives, if
ther a sharp look out upon hiin at the we wou:ld wish to arrest the progress
time, have ever since twisted roses, of this malady, and secure for our-
and primmed up themselves during selves and our children the healthy and
the psalm, most fearfully, even in the invigorating exercise of our public or-
very face of the precentor himself. dinances of religion.
The pulpit too full sorry am I But the evil does not rest with the
to admit the disgrace_but true it is, music merely, and with the affectation
and of verity, that the very pulpit of gentility, which I have denounced.
itself—that "holy of holies” of pres. There are steps, sir, now adopting,


570
On Psalm-singing in our Churches.
[Aug.
Alas! poor old woman, what knowest Is this emotion increased or diminish-
thou about skimming, beyond a pailed by the following translation ?
of sweet milk?
“ How lovely is thy dwelling-place,
The thirtieth Psalm, in the old ver- O Lord of Hosts, my God and King!
sion, contains, at the fourth verse, the How pleasant there thy law to hear !
following rather happy lines: How pleasant there thy praise to sing !"
“ Oh ye that are his holy ones, In the new version of the eighty-
Sing praise unto the Lord,
eighth Psalm, we find the following
And give unto im thanks, when ye lines:
His holiness record.”
“ Soon shall I lie entombed in the ground
Which, at the risk of being mistaken
for a prayer for his Holiness the Pope,
Is mercy there ? Is sweet forgiveness
found ?
are thus, in the new Psalmody, exhi- Oh, save me yet, while on the “ brink" I
bited :
stand;
“All ye his saints, your voices raise,
Rebuke the storm, and bring me safe to
land.”
To sing your Maker's endless praise ;
In grateful songs for ever bless
Independently of the clumsiness of the
And magnify " His Holiness."
expression, it will require no great de-
The forty-second Psalm is not only gree of ingenuity to discover the mix-
most impressive and sublime in its ture of metaphor here.
sentiments, but likewise very happily But it is needless, at present, to ad-
translated as it now stands. Where is vance farther, or to deny, amidst this
the devout worshipper, whose heart preponderance of censure, that, in
has not bounded at these most inspi- many instances, considerablemerit does
ring expressions ?
attach to these “ additional" Psalms;
“ Like as the hart for water brooks
and, in particular to the 19th, 104th,
In thirst doth pant and bray,
113th, and 148th, with a short quo-
So pants my longing soul, O Lord, tation from which last, we shall con-
That come to thee I may !”
clude this criticism.
Can the following new version be con “ Princes, judges of the earth,
sidered as an improvement?
All of high or humble birth,
Youths and virgins flourishing,
“ As pants the wearied hart for cooling In the beauty of your spring;
springs,
Ye who bow with age's weight;
With thirst and toil exhausted in the chace."
Ye who were but born of late ;
What chace? Not only the sense, but
Praise his name with one consent.
the keeping of the original are mi-
Oh, how great ! how excellent !
serably sacrificed here. And, again, at Allowing, however, all the praise to
the seventh verse, we have,
these translations, which even their
« At the noise of thy water-spouts,
authors, as well as supporters, in and
Deep unto deep did call ;
out of the church, could desire, my
Thy breaking waves pass over me,
former position, in regard to their un-
Yea, and thy billows all.”
suitableness in point of association,
still remains unassailed and unmoved.
Which, lame, in some respects, as it
must be confessed to be, is assuredly these additional Psalms were already,
But, I may be told, that although
infinitely preferable to the following: under proper authority, affixed to the
“In rapid floods the swelling torrents roll, psalınody, there will be no compulsory
Harsh sounding cataracts around me roar ; enactment affixed, enjoining any one
Thine angry billows overwhelm my soul, who does not chuse it, to sing them;
And toss my straining bark from shore to they will only be placed there, and
shore."
subjected to the choice of ministers
These cataracts are harsh-sounding in- and congregations, who may either
deed, and will require a deal of pre- make use of them or not, as they
centor address to soften them down please. And this, no doubt, to a cer-
into music!
tain extent, is true, but not to the
Who ever read the exordium of the amount of obviating completely, my
eighty-fourth Psalm without emotion? objection ; for it is well known how
“ How lovely is thy dwelling-place,
pertinacious and obstinate we become
O Lord of Hosts, to me!
in adopting any measure which is of
The tabernacles of thy grace,
our own device and hatching; and as
How pleasant, Lord, they be!" a great proportion of these lyrics are


On Psalm-singing in our Churches.
[Aug
Leaders which conducted the depo- us to think in time, ere, along with
sed and persecuted, and want-worn the outward demonstration, all the
Presbyters, * through many depriva- vitality of devotion and piety have
tions and dangers, to death, and to ceased to exist.
victory at last. These were, in a word, To conclude then, Sir,-for like the
the stout and fearless “ Reformers,' spider which is now working himself
who ousted Popery, and resisted Prela- down from the roof of my study,
cy, and at last
on the permanent basis I have spun myself to so great a dis-
of God's word, (explained unto, and tance from my web, that I shall not
with praises sung by all the people,) at present attempt a re-ascension,
erected the Doric fabric of Presbyteri- I am, and ever will remain, a friend to
an worship amongst us.-And, shall all plans and practices which admit,
We, the children, and natural, and na- and, as it were, invite, the people into
tional, and testimonial descendants of a participation in the public praises of
these very men, who were thus actu- God; and provided this object can be
ated, guided, supported and directed, attained, I care not how many new
neglect or despise the inheritance we tunes be sung or new psalms be pen-
have derived from them? Shall we ned; but as matters now stand, and
suffer the walls of our Zion to fall as fashion now sets in, I am afraid a
gradually under the lapse of time, continuation of innovation, or what is
and ruin, and dilapidation, merely deemed improvement in these respects,
from want of repairs, and from inat- would only prove a confirmation and
tention to the preservation of the more rooted establishmentof the grow-
structure ?-God forbid ! and may Heing mischief.-Yours, &c.
who alone is the “ Head and the Su-
A PRESBYTERIAN CLERGYMAN.
perior" of our national church, induce
Note to Presbyters.--About 400 Presbyterian Clergymen resigned their churches
on one day, rather than conform with the measures of the government, in order to in.
troduce Prelacy into Scotland.”
THE FORGERS.
“ Let us sit down on this stone she reached a little well, dug out of a
seat," said my aged friend, the pastor, low rock all covered with moss and
" and I will tell you a tale of tears, lichens, she seemed to fix her eyes
concerning the last inhabitants of yon- upon it as in a dream, and gave a long,
der solitary house, just visible on the deep, broken sigh.
hill-side, through the gloom of those « The names of her husband and
melancholy pines. Ten years have her only son, both dead, are chiselled
passed away since the terrible catas- by their own hands on a smooth stone
trophe of which I am about to speak; within the arch of that fountain, and
and I know not how it is, but mé- the childless widow at this moment
thinks, whenever I come into this glen, sees nothing on the face of the earth
there is something rueful in its silence, but a few letters not yet overgrown
while the common sounds of nature with the creeping timestains. See !
seem to my mind dirge-like and for her pale lips are moving in prayer,
lorn. Was not this very day bright and, old as she is, and long resigned
and musical as we walked across all in her utter hopelessness, the tears are
the other hills and valleys; but now a not yet all shed or dried up within her
dim mist overspreads the sky, and, broken heart,-a few big drops are on
beautiful as this lonely place must in her withered cheeks, but she feels
truth be, there is a want of life in the them not, and is unconsciously weeping
verdure and the flowers, as if they with eyes that old age has of itself
grew beneath the darkness of perpetual enough bedimmed.”
shadows."
The figure remained motionless
As the old man was speaking, a fe- beside the well; and, though I knew
male figure, bent with age and infir- not the history of the griefs that stood
mity,came slowly up the bank below us all embodied so mournfully before me,
with a pitcher in her hand, and when I felt that they must have been gather-


1821.]
The Forgers.
575
ing, woman.-Holla! where is the old and doubtless even more tenderly be-
man gone?"
loved in their guilt and in their graves,
We all looked ghastlily around, and she carries to her lonely hut the water
the wretched wife and mother, spring- that helps to preserve her hopeless life,
ing to her feet, rushed out of the house. from the well dug by dearest hands,
We followed, one and all. The door now mouldered away, both flesh and
of the stable was open, and the mother bone, into the dust.”
and son entering, loud shrieks were After a moment's silence the old
heard. The miserable old man had man continued, -for he saw that I
slunk out of the room unobserved due longed to hear he details of that
ring the passion that had struck all our dreadful catastrophe, and his own soul
souls, and had endeavoured to commit seemed likewise desirous of renewing
suicide. His own son cut him down, as its grief, --" The prisoners were con-
he hung suspended froin a rafter in demned. Hope there was none. It
that squalid place, and, carrying him was known, from the moment of the
in his arms, laid him down upon the verdict-guilty,—that they would be
green bank in front of the house. executed. Fetitions were, indeed, sign-
There he lay with his livid face, and ed by many many thousands; but it
blood-shot protruded eyes, till, in a was all in vain,--and the father and
few minutes, he raised himself up, the son had to prepare themselves for
and fixed them upon his wife, who, death.
soon recovering from a fainting fit, “ About a week after condemna.
came shrieking from the mire in which tion I visited them in their cell. God
she had fallen down. “ Poor people!” forbid, I should say that they were
said the sailor with a gasping voice, resigned. Human nature could not
you have suffered enough for your resign itself to such a doom; and I
crime. Fear nothing; the worst is found the old man pacing up and down
now past: and rather would I sail the the stone-floor, in his clanking chains,
seas twenty years longer, than add with hurried steps, and a countenance
another pang to that old man's heart. of unspeakable horror. The son was
Let us be kind to the old man.” lying on his face upon his bed of straw,
“But it seemed as if a raven had and had not lifted up his head, as the
croaked the direful secret all over the massy bolts were withdrawn, and the
remotest places among the hills; for, door creaked sullenly on its hinges.
in an hour, people came flocking in The father fixed his eyes upon me for
from all quarters, and it was seen, that some time, as if I had been a stranger
concealment or escape was no longer intruding upon his misery; and, as
possible, and that father and son were soon as he knew me, shut them with
destined to die together a felon's a deep groan, and pointed to his son.
death.”
I have murdered William-I have
Here the pastor's voice ceased ; and brought my only son to the scaffold.
I had heard enough to understand the and I am doomed to hell!' I gently
long deep sigh that had come moaning called on the youth by name, but he
from that bowed-down figure beside was insensible-he was lying in a fit.
the solitary well. “That was the last 'I fear he will awake out of that fit,'
work done by the father and son, and cried the old man with a broken voice.
finished the day before the fatal dis • They have come upon him every day
covery of their guilt. It had probably since our condemnation, and some
been engaged in as a sort of amuse times during the night. It is not fear
ment to beguile their unhappy minds for himself that brings them on-for
of ever-anxious thoughts, or perhaps my boy, though guilty, is brave-but
as a solitary occupation, at which they he continues looking on my face for
could unburthen their guilt to one hours, till at last he seems to lose all
another undisturbed. Here, no doubt, sense, and falls down in strong con-
in the silence and solitude, they often vulsions, often upon the stone floor,
felt remorse, perhaps penitence. They till he is all covered with bloodl.' The
chiselled out their names on that slab, old man then went up to his son,
as you perceive; and hither, as duly knelt down, and, putting aside the
as the morning and evening shadows, thick clustering hair from his fore-
comes the ghost whom we beheld, and, head, continued kissing him for some
after a prayer for the souls of them so minutes, with deep sobs, but eyes dry
tenderly beloved in their innocence, as dust.
6


578
[Aug.
Works Preparing for Publication.
WORKS PREPARING FOR PUBLICATION.
LONDON.
Sir George Nayler, Clarencieux King of A Tale in Verse, called “ Temper," by
Arms, is preparing, by command of the Mrs Taylor of Ongar.
King, an extensive Work, with engravings, A Poetical Essay on the Character of
descriptive of the late ceremony of the Co. Pope; by Chas. Lloyd.
ronation.
To be published by subscription, an
Mr Bewick, the celebrated engraver on Account of the Crowning of his most Sa.
wood, is preparing for the press, a Supple- cred Majesty King George IV. including
ment to his History of British Birds. the names of all the Peers, Knights, and
A new edition of the Eton Latin Gram- principal Officers, who were engaged in that
mar; by Rev. J. Smith, of St John's Col- ceremony. To be embellished with a beau-
lege, Cambridge.
tifully illuminated frontispiece, printed in
A Treatise on the newly-discovered letters of gold.
White Vinegar, called Pyroligneous Acid, A second Series of Sermons in MS. cha.
with detailed directions for its application racter ; by Rev. R. Warner.
to Pickling, and every other domestic pur. A second edition of Mr Bramsen's Tra.
pose.
vels in Egypt, Syria, &c. is preparing for
The Speeches of the Right Hon. Henry publication.
Grattan, with a Memoir by his Son, are A Course of Lent Lectures on the Seven
printing in four vols. 8vo.
last Sentences uttered by our Saviour from
The Dying Confessions of Judas Isca- the Cross ; by Rev. Jolinson Grant
riot, a convincing evidence of the Divine Dr Carey has in the press the Greek
Origin of Christianity; an Essay, by the Terminations, including the Dialects and
Rev. Dr Cracknell.
Poetic Licences, in alphabetical order, with
To be published in September, by Mr explanatory references to the Grammar;
T. Lynn, to be continued annually, a work on the same plan as his Clue for young
called Star Tables and Ephemeris for 1822, Latinists, lately published.
for the more easily determining the latitude Nearly ready, the First Part of Mr A.
and longitude at sea during the night. T. Thomson's Lectures on Botany.
Nearly ready for publication, the Mis The Rev. John Campbell will shortly
cellaneous Tracts of the late Dr Withering, publish a second volume of Travels to
with Memoirs of the Author, by William South Africa, describing the manners and
Withering, Esq.
customs of the natives, their agriculture,
Mr Nicholson's Popular Elements of arts and manufactures, food, clothing, &c.
Pure and Mixed Mathematics, will appear &c. with an account of the cities of Mashow
in the autumn.
and Marootzee, the former consisting of
A volume of Poems, original and trans. 12, the latter of 16,000 inhabitants; with
lated, by Mr Noble of Liverpool.
a map and plates.
Preparing for the press, a History of In the press, the Theory and Practice of
Brazil, with numerous engravings ; by Mr Latin Inflexion, being examples in the
James Henderson.
form of copy-books, for declining and con-
A new and enlarged edition of Dr Con- jugating nouns and verbs; by Mr Haigh,
quest's Outlines of Midwifery, &c. with of the classical school, Kitt's End, near
copperplate engravings.
Barnet.
EDINBURGH.
We have much pleasure in informing our together with a Preface and a Sketch of the
readers, that the author of The Ayrshire Life of the Author. This small volume will
Legatees,” and “ Annals of the Parish,” form an useful guide and help to Christian
is preparing a Scottish novel for the press, communicants in their preparation for the
which he intends to call “Sir Andrew ordinance of the Supper ; and on this ac-
Wylie of that Ilk."
count, as well as others, it particularly
In the press, and speedily will be pub- claims the notice and patronage of ministers
lished, a small Treatise on the important of the gospel. The publication is conduct-
subject of Self-examination, with a special ed under the editorship of the Rev. Robert
View to the Ordinance of the Lord's Sup. Burns, one of the ministers of Paisley,
per ; originally published by the Rev. Author of “ Historical Dissertations on the
William Trail, A.M. Minister of the Gos- State of the Poor in Scotland." To promote
pel at Benholm, and a near relative of the the circulation of the Work, the price will
eminently, learned, and pious Robert Trail be exceedingly. moderate.
of London. The Work has long been out Report of the Trial before the Jury
of print ; and the present edition, which is Court, Edinburgh, 25th June, 1821, of the
the fourth, will be accompanied with a Issues in the Cause in which the Rev. An-
considerable variety of additional Matter, drew Scott, Roman Catholic Clergyman in


1921.)
Monthly List of New Publications.
581
POETRY
TOPOGRAPHY.
pliant; by Charlotte Caroline Richardson. Oxford in 1821, at the Lecture founded by
2 vols. 12mo. 5s.
the late Rev. J. Bampton, M.A. By Rev.
Scenes at Brighton, or “ How Much ?” John Jones, M.A. 8vo. 10s. 6d.
a Satirical Novel; by James Hoole, Esq. Sermons, by the late very Rev. W.
3 vols. 12mo. 15s.
Pearce, D.D. Dean of Ely. 8vo. 12s.
Discourses, adapted to the Pulpit, or to
The Cottage of Pella, a Tale of Pales. the use of Families, from Tracts and Trea-
tine, with other poems; by John Holland. tises of eminent Divines ; by the Rev. E.
8vo. 3s.
A. Bray. Ovo. 10s.
Rome, a poem. 8vo. 6s.
Practical Sermons; by Abraham Rees,
The History and Life of Johnny Quæ D.D. F.R.S. Vols. 3, 4. 8vo. £1, 4s.
Genus, the Little Fourdling ; by the au-
thor of the Three Tours of Dr Syntax. A Guide to the Lakes in Cumberland,
No. I. containing three coloured engrav. · Westmoreland, and Lancashire ; by the
ings and 32 pages of letter-press. 2s.6d. late Mr. W'est. 11th edition, with a new
The Lay of the First Minstrel ; by Jas. plate and map. 8vo. 7s.
Grocott. 8vo.
An Account of the Interior of Ceylon,
Seventeen Sermons of the eminently and of its Inhabitants, with Travels in that
pious and deeply learned Bishop Andrews, Island; by John Davy, M.D. F.R.S. 4to.
modernized for the use of general readers; with engravings. £3, 13s. 6d.
by the Rev. Chas. Daubery, Archdeacon M. de Humboldt's Travels to the Equi.
of Sarum. 8vo. 10s. 6d.
noctial Regions of the New Continent, dur.
Deism compared with Christianity, being the years 1799–1804. Vol. V. Part
ing an Epistolary Correspondence, contain. 1, 2. Translated by H. M. Williams. 8vo.
ing all the principal objections against Re. £1, 4s.
vealed Religion, with the Answers annex Travels in South Europe, from Modern
ed; by Edward Chichester, M.D. 3 vols. Writers, with remarks and observations,
8vo. £1, 7s.
exhibiting a connected view of the Geogra-
The Moral Tendency of Divine Revela: phy and present state of that quarter of the
tion asserted and illustrated, in eight Dis. Globe ; by the Rev. Wm. Bingley, M.A.
courses preached before the University of &c. 12mo. Os. Ed.
VOYAGES AND TRAVELS.
THEOLOGY.
EDINBURGH.
The Edinburgh Christian Instructor, Receipts for roasting, boiling, &c. Third
No. CXXXIII. for August.
Edition. 12mo. 9s.
The New Edinburgh Review, No. I. A Humble Petition and Address to her
Denmark Delineated, or Sketches of the Majesty Queen Caroline; by an inhabitant
Present State of that Country, with Por- of Edinburgh. 8vo. 6d.
traits, Views, &c. Part I. royal 8vo. 10s. The Reader's Guide, being a Collection
6d.
of Pieces in prose and verse; by William
The Life of David Haggart, alias John Andrew. 12mo. 4s.
Wilson, &c. &c. Written by himself. Se The Edinburgh Annual Register, for
cond Edition, 12mo. 4s.
1817, 8vo. £1, Is.
The Cook’s Oracle, containing Practical
MONTHLY REGISTER.
COMMERCIAL REPORT.-August 13, 1821.
Sugars.-Notwithstanding the very considerable arrivals of sugars for several weeks
past, the demand has been very considerable, and the prices for good and fine have ad.
vanced about 1s. per cwt. Middling and low qualities are however depressed, and sales
effected with difficulty. Considerable sales have been effected at Liverpool by auction,
and the whole have gone off freely at an advance. The prices of refined sugars are lower.
Very considerable shipments have been made to the Continent this year. The value of
refined sugars, exported for the first six months, was £1,328,029. Last year the whole
export amounted to £1,879,467, which shews a considerable increase in the trade this
year. Still, however, the prices are exceedingly low, and such as cannot repay the plant-
er. The demand, which has for some time taken place, is probably owing to the quan.
tity required at this particular season of the year for making British wines. From the quan-
tity continuing to arrive, it is doubtful if this demand will continue. The state of the
weather, however, in many of the West India colonies, was, at the date of the last ac-
counts, not very favourable for the crop of next season.
Cotton.—The cotton market, which sometime ago looked upwards, is again become
more languid. Still, however, the demand is considerable, and prices maintained. The
holders are inclined to sell, and very considerable quantities are advertised for public
auction.


582
Register. Commercial Report.
[Aug.
Coffee. The market for coffee is become very dull, and sales can, with difficulty, be
effected at a very considerable reduction in prices. The decline in price may be stated at
2s. per cwt. The grain market which was lately on the advance, is now, on account of
the more favourable appearances for the harvest, becoming more languid, and in some
instances declining, particularly with regard to oats. Some Dye-woods have been sold at an
advance. Extensive purchases have been made in Rice. The accounts from the Green-
land and Davies' Straits fisheries, is more favourable than the first accounts received
from thence, which have a considerable effect on the oil market. The low prices of Rum
have attracted the notice of speculators and exporters. The demand has in consequence
been considerable, and the price a trifle advanced. Brandy is become more firm. The
holders are less inclined to sell. In Geneva there is no alteration nor inquiry. The de-
mand for Pine Timber is considerable. The Tallow market remains nominally the same.
Other articles of commerce require no particular notice.
Although the internal trade of this country, and in some instances the foreign trade
also, is greatly meliorated ; still our readers are to receive, with much caution and many
deductions, the flaming accounts of commercial prosperity, so ostentatiously put forth in
the public periodical journals. It is true, abundance of goods are going away, but it is
equally true, that several markets, particularly the Jamaica market, are completely
glutted, and that the high exchanges and depreciation of every article taken in exchange,
when these arrive in this country, strip the merchant of all, or nearly all, the profits of his
export sales. The whole West India colonial trade, about a sixth part of the trade of the
empire, is peculiarly depressed, and never was at a lower ebb, or in a more ruinous state.
We would fain hope, however, that this branch of our commerce is upon the point of
reviving, and that it will soon resume its former prosperity. Various unfortunate cir-
cumstances have conspired to bring it to its present state.
......19s. Od.
.
.
EDINBURGH.-AUGUST 8.
Wheat.
Barley.
Oats. Pease & Beans.
1st.......34s. Od. 1st, .....24s. Od. | Ist....... 22s. Od. 1st,......20s. Od.
2d, ......32s. Od. 2d, ...... 22s. Od. | 2d, ...... 20s. Od. 2d,
3d, .29s. Od. 3d, ...... 20s. Od. | 3d, ...... 18s. Od. 3d, , .18s. Od.
Average of Wheat, £1 : 12: 6d. per boll.
Tuesday, August 7.
Beef (174 oz. per lb.) 0s. 4d. to Os. 7d. | Quartern Loaf Os. 9d. to Os. Od
Mutton
Os. 5d. to Os. 78. New Potatoes (28 lb.) Is. 6d. to Os. Od
Veal
Os. Gd. to Os. 9d. Fresh Butter, per lb. ls. 3d. to Os. Od
Pork
Os. 5d. to Os. 60. Salt ditto, per stone 16s. Od. to Os. Od
Lamb, per quarter
Is. 6d. to 3s. 6d. Ditto, per lb.
Is. Od. to ls. 2d
Tallow, per stone 7s. Od. to 8s. Od. | Eggs, per dozen Os. 8d. to Os. Od
HADDINGTON.-Aug. 10.
Wheat.
Barley.
Oats.
Pease.
Beans.
Ist,.....33s. 3d. 1st, ..... 23s. Od. Ist, .....21s. Od. 1st, .....J9s. Od. 1st, .....19s. Od.
2d,......3ls. Od. 2d,...... 20s. Od. | 2d,...... 18s. Od. 2d, ..... 178. Od. | 2d,......17s. Od.
3d,...... 298. Od. 3d,...... 18s. Od. 3d,......16s. Od. 3d,...... 15s. Od. 3d,...... 158. Od.
Average, £1 : Ils. Od. 5-12ths.
Average Prices of Corn in England and Wales, from the Returns received in the Week
ended July 28th.
Wheat, 52s. 1d.-Rye, 328. 1d.-Barley, 258. Od.-Oats, 198. 4d.-Beans, 30s. 11d.-Pease, 31s. Id.
Beer or Big, Os. Od.-Oatmeal, Os. Od.
.
Weekly Price of Stocks, from 2d to 23d July, 1821.
2d.
9th. 16th.
22d.
761
SAKAR
=
234
2324 2
2331
763
77 764 761
871 853
195 1954 954
109
109
236
2341 234
57 59 pr. 56 57 55 pr. 59 60 pr.
945
1003
Bank stock,...so
3 per cent. reduced,
3 per cent. consols,.
3 per cent. consols,..
4 per cent. consols,
5 per cent. Navy ann.....
India stock,
bonds,
Exchequer bills,
Consols for acc.
Long Annuities
French 5 per cents..
Amer. 3 per cent...row.....
1094
51 53 pr.
13 pr.
4 6 pr.
4 6 pr.
4 6 pr.
771
& 784 $771 763
194 195 195
85fr. 95c. 85fr. 85c. 85fr. 45c. 85fr. 90c.
70
70
70
19
1


1921.
Register.-Commercial Report.
583
Course of Exchange, August 7.--Amsterdam, 12:16. C. F. Ditto at sight, 12: 13
Rotterdam, 12: 19. Antwerp, 12:9. Hamburgh, 38 : 2. Altona, 38 : 2. Paris, 3
d. sight, 25 : 55. Ditto 25 : 85. Bourdeaux, 25 : 85. Frankfort on the Maine, 158.
Petersburgh, per rble. 87:3 Us. Vienna, 10:24 Ef flo. Trieste, 10:24 Ef flo. Madrid,
36. Cadiz, 36. Bilboa, 35%. Barcelona, 35. Seville, 35). Gibraltar, 304. Leghorn,
47. Genoa, 43 Venice, 27: 60. Malta, 45. Naples, 39}. Palermo, 116. Lis
bon, 50. Oporto, 50. Rio Janeiro, 49. Bahia; 59. Dublin, 95 per cent.
Cork, 9. per cent.
Prices of Gold and Silver, per oz.-
:-Foreign gold, in bars, £3:17: 104d. New
Dollars, 4s. 10d. Silver in bars, stand. 4s. 11d.
LONDON.
51
56
67
77
100
21s bd
190
120
109
138
1s 8d 38 3
3 0 3 6
18 1 9
£30
45
£60
52
28
£6 10
6 10
45
7
7
8 0
PRICES CURRENT August 11.
SUGAR, Musc.
LEITH
GLASGOW. LIVERPOOL.
B. P. Dry Brown, . cwt. 57 to 60 56
60 55
58
Mid. good, and fine mid. 70
80 60
71 59
67
Fine and very fine,
80
80
69
79
Refined Doub. Loaves, 130
145
Powder ditto,
106
110
Single ditto,
100
104
Small Lumps,
92
96
Large ditto,
88
92
Crushed Lumps,
56
MOLASSES, British, ewt. 23
22
24 28
COFFEE, Jamaica, . cwt.
Ord. good, and fine ord. 105
108 109
118 105 116
Mid. good, and fine mid. 108
120 118 134 118
122
Dutch Triage and very ord.
90
115
Ord. good, and fine ord.
120
135
113
120
Mid. good, and fine mid. 135 140
121
127
St Domingo,
122 126
108 110
Pimento (in Bond,)
7
8
74
8
SPIRITS,
Jam. Rum, 16 0. P. gall. 28 28 28 4d ls lid 28 Od ls 9d 1s 11d
Brandy,
4 6
Geneva,
10
Grain Whisky,
6 0 7 0
W NES,
Claret, 1st Growths, hhd. 45
55
Portugal Red, pipe. 30
46
Spanish White, butt.
34
55
Teneriffe,
pipe.
30
32
Madeira,
55
65
LOGWOOD, Jam. ton. £7
15 8
6 0 8 5
Honduras,
8 5 8 10
Campeachy,
8 15 90
FUSTIC, Jamaica,
7
8 6 10 70 6 6 7 0
Cuba, .
9
11
8 5 8 10
7 15 8 10
INDIGO, Caraccas fine, lb. 78 6d 10s 6d 7 6 8 6 8 0 90
TIMBER, Amer. Pine, foot. 1 6 1 8
Ditto Oak,
3 0 3 4
Christiansand (dut. paid.)
Honduras Mahogany,
1 18
2 1 8 0 10 1 1
St Domingo, ditto,
6 3 0
2 0
TAR, American,
brl.
16
Archangel,
18
PITCH, Foreign,
10
TALLOW, Rus. Yel. Cand. 49
Home melted,
53
HEMP, Riga Rhine, ton.
Petersburgh, Clean,
39
FLAX,
Riga Thies. & Druj. Rak. 55
Dutch,
50
90
Irish,
41
46
MATS, Archangel, 100.
75
80
BRISTLES,
Petersburgh Firsts, Owt. 15 10 14
ASHES, Peters. Pearl,
40
Montreal, ditto,
41
46
39
40
36
57
OIL, Whale,
tun.
£25
26
Cod.
84s (p. brl.)
TOBACCO, Virgin. fine, Ib. 68
0 51 08
Middling,
6
0 44 05
Inferior,
0 2 0 3
COTTONS, Bowed Georg.
11+ 090
Sea Island, fine,
1 5 1 8
Good,
1 6 1 8 1 2
Middling,
1 4 1 6 1 2 1 4
Demerara and Berbice,
1 0 1 2 0 109 11
West India,
0 10 0 11 09 0 103
Pernambuco,
1 1
1 03 1 1j
Maranham,
1 1
1
+36 seconds I l-am 08000 SE -
10 0 10
10000 1881 1111 111all loolllabollolllll 111211115 |||||1138
81|||||||||
IIII lilleliconlll--111111 111 112 SO-----
పోత+0g-
11
2-.--* vcrco llaol 1111 111111 orllloooooolllll III 65986 11111113
1
9
-OOH mooool1811 illl llllolllcovencallIllIIT
£47
46 10
IITTATI 81 11&IENTO coga
.
£59
46
110 Folz182 111 11111111lllol
65
Pot,
40
42
22 10
06d
0 11
09
14
0 10
10
11 1 0


586
Appointments, Promotions, &c.
[Aug.
Resignations and Retirements.
Alex. Macbean, 2 Ceylon Reg. Ceylon,
Lieut. Col. Brunt, 83 F.
8 Feb. 21
Austen, 9J F.
Boyle, h. p. 7 F. late of 42 F.
Huskisson, 1 Ceyl. R.
Carter, h. p. 22 F.
Major Phillips, 4 Dr.
Sir T. Hyde Page, h. p. R. Inv. Eng. Bou-
Capt. M.Dowall, 6 Dr. G.
logne,
30 June, 21
Penrice, 16 Dr.
Lieut. Buckeridge, Roy. Eng. Gibraltar,
Erskine, 1 F. G.
12 April, 21
Lowrey, 40 f.
Fortescue, late 3 Roy. Vet. Bn. Mallow,
Lieut. Norton, 1 F. G.
22 June
2d Lt. & Cor. Elwood, 3 D. G.
Parsons, h. p. 9 F. Adjut. Monmouth MIL
Sir F. Vincent, Bt. 9 Dr.
Monmouth,
21 do
Talbot, 19 Dr.
Eyre, h. p. 34 F. London,
20 do
Jellis, Roy. Art.
Kingsley, h. p. 44 F. London, 9 March
Hosp. Assist. W. D. Watson.
Ens. Montgomerie, 45 F. Ceylon.
R. Moir.
Christie, h. p. 72 F.
20 Sept.
Cox, 37 F. on board the ship St Lawrence,
Deaths.
23 July, 21
Lieut. Gen. Hatton, formerly of 66 F. 18 F. 21. Qua.-Mast. Minor, h. p. 92 Dr. 7 June, 21
Nicholson, East I. Comp. Serv. Lon-
Johnston, h. p. 31 Dr. Bolton, 27 do.
don,
3 July, 21 Surg. Keate, Chelsea Hospital.
Lieut. Col. Covell, h. p. 24 Dr. Colchester,
Millet, h. p. Watteville Regt. in France,
3 July, 21
13 April, 21
Capt. Mainwaring, 10 F.
Bar.-Mast. Tait, Bahamas.
METEOROLOGICAL TABLE, extracted from the Register kept at Edinburgh, the
Observatory, Calton-hill.
N.B.-The Observations are made twice every day, at nine o'clock, forenoon, and four o'clock, after-
noon.- The second Observation in the afternoon, in the first column, is taken by the Register
Thermometer.
Attach.
Ther. Barom. Ther. (Wind.
Attach.
Ther. Barom. Ther. Wind.
July 17{ A.59
July 1
21
18
19
1
20
ery, att fair.
21 /
7{
23.
8 M.38)
24 M.471
VA. 61
M.39 29.435 M.57) E.
Sunshine,
M.45 29.920 M.63 Dull, but
A. 50
Cble.
cold wind.
.592 A. 54 )
.986 A. 63
warm.
M.37
.63) M.58 Dull, but
M.16
Chle.
.999 M.65
fair.
W.
A.53
A. 63
Ditto
.636 A. 59)
.099 A, 65
M.36
.701 M.59
Dull morn.
3{
M.49
Cble.
.923 M.69
Dull foren.
A. 53
Cble.
.740 A. 56) sun. day.
A. 76 .972 A. 69
sun aftern.
M.554 813 M.62 Sunsh.warm
Cble.
M.48 .425, M.65)
A.50
Foren.show.
SW.
.885 A. 59) aftern.
A. 60 .902 A. 61
5 M.391.956 M.62
Dull foren.
Cble.
M.51 .240 M.64
A. 58 .891 A. 65 ) warm aftern.
A. 58 .239 A. 63
Ditto.
6{
M.383
.587 M.59cble. Showery.
29 M.451 .108 M.64
cble. Showery
A. 51 .720 A. 56 )
A. 55 .199 A. 63
M.391
.811 M.57 Cble. Ditto.
M.45 .157 M.60
Sunshine
A. 50 .875 A. 58 )
A. 60
W.
.290 A. 61
and warın.
.902 M.66
Cble.
Warm, with
.250 M.65
A. 58
showers.
.860 A, 643
SW. Ditto.
.220 A. 65
M.59
9
.830 M.61
Cble.
Warm, with
.175 M.63
Showeryand
A. 57
.920 A. 64
sunshine.
sw.
.365 A. 65
wam.
.875 M.63
.103 M.63
Cble. Ditto.
GW.
Show. with
A. 59
916 A. 61 )
UA. 61
.383 A. 62
thun. &ligt.
M.41
*962 M.61 E.
Dull morn.
.650 M.62
A. 54 .919 A. 65 )
W.
sun. aftern.
A. 59 .669 A. 63
M.41) .888 M.63
cble. Sunshine.
M.433 .650 M.65
A. 56
Show. mor.
750 A. 64)
W.
A.57 .662 A. 64 S
M.38
Dull morn.
.662 M.641
Fair, withn.
UA.50 .568 A. 61
sunsh. day.
UA. 58 .658 A. 63 ) | W.
sunshine.
Dull, with
.638 M.62
A. 56 .305 A. 60 } a shower.
UA. 60
fair.
M.39 .269 M.60
Rain morn.
Cble.
31
.490 M.64 )
SM.49
Dull, with
A. 56 .652 A. 61
fair day.
A. 60
.576 A. 64/W.
showers.
.562 A. 64
Dull dav,
A. 58
W.
.775 M.63
cold aftern,
Average of Rain, 1.509 inches.
25 SM.15
VA. 56
10 M.104
26 / M.46
11
27 M.45
Showery.
12.
28
fair day:
13
.715 M.65 w.
.450 M.61 w.
29 M.44
30.11.13
.467 A. 62}|sw. Dull, bait
14 M.383
15
16 M.10
a son.
BIRTHS, MARRIAGES, AND DEATHS.
BIRTHS.
7. At Stenton Manse, Mrs Balfour Graham, of
June 17. At Pisa, in Italy, the Right Hon. Lady - At Bury-house, Southampton, the lady of
Blantyre, of a daughter.
Major-General Kenneth Mackenzie, of a son.
26. At Mormond-house, Mrs Gordou of Cairn. 8. Mrs Horsburgh of Lochmalony, of a son.
bulg, of a son.
- At Seaton's Inn, Bridge of Earn, Mrs Alex.
27. At Putney, the lady of John Paterson, Esq. Ballantyne, Kelso, of a daughter.
captain of the Hon. East India Company's ship 9. Mrs Sands, Royal Circus, of a son.
Repulse, of a son.
10. The lady of Andrew Spottiswoode, Esq. Bed-
30. At Monreith, the lady of Sir William Max ford Square, London, of a daughter.
well of Monreith, Bart. of a still-born child.
15. At New Street, Canongate, Mrs Dun, of a
July 2. At Portsmouth, the Right. Hon. Lady
Greenock, of a daughter.
- Mrs Napier, Albany Street, of a son.
6. At Irvine, the lady of A F. Gray, Esq. comp *16. At Stranraer, the lady of Major-General
troller of his Majesty's customs, of a daughter. M'Nair, C. B. of a daughter.
- At Rose Bank, the lady of Kenneth M-Leay, 17. Glenkindy, the lady of Sir Alexander Leith,
Esq. of Newmore, of a son.
K.C. B. of a daughter.
son.


588
Register.-Deaths.
[Aug.
aged 75.
July 2. At Lochgilphead, Mr Archibald Munro, 20. At Geanies-house, in Ross-shire, James
Postmaster there, in the 62d year of his age, much Crawfurd M' Leod, younger of Geanies.
regretted.
- Prince Maurice de Broglie, Bishop of Ghent,
- At Perth, Mrs Jane Stewart, relict of the after a long and painful malady.
late Lieutenant Robert Menzies of the late Ross 21. At Edinburgh, Jane, infant daughter of
shire Highlanders.
James Wylie, Esq. of Annatfield, writer to the
3. At Thornyflatts, Ayrshire, Major Dugald signet.
Campbell, late of the 923, or Gordon Highlanders. - At Rosefield-house, Portobello, Christian
4. At Touch-house, after a short illness, the Nicolson, daughter of Mr William Jameson, writer
Lady of Sir Henry Steuart, Bart. of Allanton. to the signet.
- At Perth, Mrs Ann Playfair, relict of the 22. At Edinburgh, the infant son of John Tawse,
deceased Mr Thomas Myles,' late merchant in Esq. advocate.
Perth, aged 68.
At Dundee, William, second son of the
5. At Portobello, of apoplexy, Robert Allison, Rev. Thomas Barby, Bendochy.
Esq. son of the late David Allison, Esq. one of the 23. At Villa Tanzi, near Como, Mrs Oliphant,
masters of the Grammar School of Glasgow. wife of Lawrence Oliphant of Condie, Esq.
- At Canaan, William Wilson, Esq. clerk to - At Lausanne, Switzerland, Mrs Kelso, Lady
the Signet.
of Archibald Kelso of Sauchrie, Esq. county of
6. Åt Damhead, near Edinburgh, Mrs Chris- Ayr.
tian Anderson, eldest daughter of Mr William - At Dalhousie Farm, Mark John, second son
Moffat, farmer.
of the Right Hon. Lord Robert Ker, aged seven
- At Gloucester, Miss Helen Colquhoun, fifth
years and five months.
daughter of the late Right Hon. 'Archibald Col - Al Seaside Cottage, near Aberdour, Mrs
quhoun, Lord Clerk Register of Scotland. Moubray, widow of Robert Moubray, Esq. Coe
8. At Havre-de-Grace, in France, Rear-Admiral kairny, M. D.
the Hon. Francis Farington Gardner.
94. At Thannington Place, Vauxhall, Frances,
- At his house, in Queen Street, Alexander 2d daughter of the late Rev. Frances Stone, reen
Walker, Esq. some time in the service of the ho tor of Cold Norton, Essex.
nourable East India Company.
25. At Mousewald Manse, Mrs Janet Richard-
- At his father's house, Clyde Street, aged son, wife of the Rev. Jacob Dickson.
19, John, youngest son of Mr John Dick, farrier.
– At his house, in Kirkcaldy, Mr John Bar-
9. At Bangor, of hydrophobia, on his return ter, writer there.
from the West Indies, Mr Archibald, second son 6. At 6), Nicholson Street, Mrs Lawson,
of Mr John M.Laurin, Clachan, Lochfinehead.
- At Stepends of Urr, Joseph Gass, Esq. late At Cheltenham, after an illness of two days,
Provost of Dumfries.
the Dowager Countess of Jersey.
- At London, William Douglas of Orchardton, At Castle Street, Edinburgh, Mrs Elizabeth
Esq.
Gordon, wife of Mr Michael Anderson, solicitor.
10. At Leith, Catherine, second daughter of 28. At her father's house, at Canaan, near
Mr James Black, merchant there.
Edinburgh, Mrs Barbara Thomson, wife of Ar-
- At Carlogie Cottage, Aberdeenshire, Mrs thur Pollock, Esq. merchant, Grangemouth.
Garden Campbell of Troup and Glenlyon.
Latdy-At Musselburgh, Mrs Allan, widow of
11. In the Edinburgh Royal Infirmary, Mr David Allan, Esq. historical painter, Edinburgh.
John Berry, formerly of the Theatre-Royal, - At his apartments, in Chelsea Hospital, in
Edinburgh.
his 76th year, Thomas Keate, Esq. surgeon to
- At Brighton, William Grant, Esq. of Con the establishment for upwards of 30 years, aur-
galton.
geon to the King, and late surgeon-general to the
- At Edinburgh, Mr William Urquhart of the
army.
late firm of Messrs Walker and Urquhart, general - At his seat, Pinner-grove, Middlesex, Sir
agents.
F. Milman, Bart. M.D.F.R.S. aged 75.
- At London, Captain Robert Boyle, of the
- At Allonby, Mary, the wife of Mr Samuel
42d (Royal Highland) regiment of foot.
Grave, aged 58. During the time the neighbours
12. At Edinburgh, Patrick M.Dougal, Esq. of were putting the body into the coffin, Thomas
Sboroa.
Graves, the eldest son of the deceased also died,
- Mis Elizabeth, relict of the late John M.
aged 30: they were both buried in the same grave
Auley of Leven Grove, Esq. Dumbarton.
at Allonby chapel.
- At Hall, Major John Shedden, of the 52d - At Fort Wiliam, Mr Donald Kennedy, at-
regiment.
a very advanced age. He was the person who set
13. At Kelso, Robert Nichol, Esq. of Edin. fire to the King's brew-house, when the Pretender
bank, late merchant in Kelso.
was besieging Fort William.
- At Thornton-house, of hooping cough, An - In Campbell, County Virginia, Mr Cha.
drew William, infant son of Colonel Cunning. Layne, sen. aged 121 years, being born at Albe
hame, aged eight months.
marle, near Buckingham County, 1700. He has
- In London, Sir Watkin Lewes, aged 85. left a widow, aged 1 10 years, and a numerous and
14. At her house, Spring Gardens, Stockbridge, respectable family, down to the fourth generation.
Miss Ann Yule, daughter of the late Mr John He was a subject of four British Sovereigns, and
Yule, merchant, Leith.
a citizen of the United States for nearly 8 years;
15. At Allan Park, Stirling, Ann Millar, spouse until within a few years, he enjoyed all his facul-
to Mr Archibald Sawers.
ties, and excellent health.
16. At Newtown, Roxburghshire, Mr Andrew — At Ashford, in the County of Waterford,
Hunter, late merchant in Leith.
aged 111, Anne Bryan, leaving a posterity of 160
18. At Edinburgh, Mrs Susan Hamilton, relict persons, children, grand children, and great grand
of Patrick Anderson, W.S.
children.
- At Edinburgh, Mrs Isobel Forsyth, wife of - At Rose-hall, Wm. Munro, gardener there
Mr John Young, Candlemaker-Row.
since 1747, when he was a married man with a
19. At Dublin, Lieutenant-Colone! John Camp- large family, and was, at least, 30 years of age,
bell, of the 2d Royal Veteran Battalion.
so that at the time of his death he could not have
- At Murraythwaite, Dumfries-shire, Mrs Mur been under 104. He enjoyed all his faculties, and
ray, relict of William Murray, Esq. of Murray. could walk about till within a short period of his
field.
death.


INDEX TO VOLUME IX.
age of, 26
ADDITIONAL Psalmody, some observations writings of Pope, 227–Remarks on a
on the proposed, 565
letter to, by John Bull, 421
Adventures in Havana, 305
Campaigns of the British army at Wash.
Alleged decline of dramatic writing, remarks ington, review of a narrative of the, 1821
on the, 279
Caroline Matilda, Queen of Denmark, af.
Anderson, Samuel, Esq. notice of his death, fecting account of the unhappy fate or
123
142
Annals of the Parish ; or Chronicle of Dal. Catullus, review of Lamb's translation of,
mailing, review of, 203
507
Apologie of the Power and Providence of Cheetham library at Manchester, remarks
God, in the government of the world, &c. on the, 299
review of, 313
Chinese embassy to the Khan of the Tour-
Appointments, Promotions, &c. 119, 243, gouth Tartars, narrative of the, 210
361, 477, 585
Christophe, King of Hayti, on the charac-
Art, British, on the cultivation and patron ter of the late, 267/letter from to a
British senator, 268
Attraction, Adaptation, and Variety, Essay Chronicle of Dalmailing, the, review of, 203
on the Sentiments of, review of, 393 Classics, Latin, translations from the less
Bacchus, or the Pirates, a poem, 264
familiar ones, 192, 385
Bankruptcies, British, monthly list of, 117, Columbus Secundus, voyages and travels of,
240, 358, 474, 584
Chapter I. 329_Chap. II. 331.—Chap.
Biblical Sketches, No. IV. The Death of III. Meditations among the tombs, 332-
Absalom, 149_No. V. The Olive Bough, Chap. IV. The cries of Edinburgh, 399–
ib—No. VI. Hagar in the Wilderness, Chap. V. 402-Chap. IV. Being the
150
chapter of accidents, 405
Billy Blinn, 139
Commercial Report, 110, 238, 36, 472,
Births, list of, 121, 244, 362, 478, 586 581
Buonaparte, Napoleon, lines on death of, Contributors to this Magazine, a few words
367-Stanzas on ditto, 436_Remarks to the immense body of, 465
on ditto, 462
Corn tables, 116, 239, 357, 473, 582
Bonar, James, Esq. notice of his death, 123. Darkness, the Plague of ; a dramatic scene
British Art, letters on the cultivation and from Exodus, 555
patronage of, 26–Letter first, ib-Letter Coronation, on the announcement of the 337
second, 29
Death of Absalom, the, 149, 363
British army at Washington, review of a Deaths, lists of, 121, 245, 363, 479, 587
narrative of the campaigns of, 180 Denmark, account of the unhappy fate of
British Eclogues, No. II. The mariner's Caroline Matilda, Queen of, 142
last visit, 35
Doge of Venice, a tragedy, review of, 93
British Gallery of Pictures, remarks on the, Dramatic writing, on the alleged decline of,
3+0
279
Broken heart, the, 391
Duffle, Thomas, royages and travels of ;
Browne, Sir Thomas, letter of, upon occa voyage first concluded, 161-voyage se-
sion of an intimate friend's death, 549 cond, 258
Bull, John, remarks on his letter to Lord Early affection, lines on, 392'
Byron, 421
Elegy on a country maiden, 544
Budget, the Fisherman's, No. I. 249_No. Embalmer, the, No. I. 448
II. 376
Epitaphs, 452
Bye-past time, verses on, 390
Essay on the Sentiments of Attraction,
Byron, Lord, review of his tragedy, the Adaptation, and Variety, review of, 393.
Doge of Venice, 93—Remarks on his Extract from Herodotus, 221
letter to Mr John Murray, on the Rev. Fables from La Fontaine, in English verse,
W. L. Bowles's strictures on the life and review of, 3


592
Index.
and the young woman, 262—No. V. Venice, the Doge of, a tragedy, review of,
Voyage second concluded, 455—Tale 93
vii. The Dumbie's son, 456–Tale Vision, the, by moonlight, 436
VIII. King Charles and the witches, Voyages and travels of Thomas Duffle.
458_-Tale IX. The wraith, 459
Conclusion of voyage first, 161_Voyage
Summer nights' reverie, 277
second, 258_Conclusion of voyage se-
Tenacity of natural affection, evinced in the
cond, 455
tale of Vanderdecken, 127
Voyages aod Travels of Columbus Secun-
Torgouth Tartars, narrative of the Chinese dus, Chapter I. 329 Chapter II. 331–
embassy to the Khan of the, 210
Chapter III. 332_Chapter IV. 399_
Translations from the less familiar Latin Chapter V. 402_Chapter VI. 405.
Classics, No. VI. 192—The martyrdom Vulgar prejudices against literature, re-
of St Eulalie, ib. On a baptismal font, marks on, 173
194_No. VII. Claudian, 386_On one Washington, review of narrative of the Bri-
who had never left his home, 385_On tish campaigns at, 180
the nuptials of Honorius, 387
Wearyful woman, the, a tale, 162
Tree, the leafless, a poem, 187_Notes to Widow's cow, the, epistle first, 427
190
Willy Herdman, the old soldier, 154
Turkish tale, a fragment of a, 136
Works preparing for publication, 104,
Twilight musings, 147
234, 351, 468, 578
Vanderdecken's message home, a tale, 127
2
1
1
1
1
1
1


Inder.
593
INDEX TO BIRTHS, MARRIAGES, AND DEATHS.
BIRTHS.
Hogg, 121
Riddell, 587 Ewart, 245
Agnew, 362
Hood, 244
Robertson,244,478, Fairlie, 363
Airley, 121
Hope, 587
ib.
Ferguson, 245
Alston, 121
Hore, 244
Robinson, 244 Fitzclarence, 363
Anderson, 244, 278 Horsburgh, 586 Rose, 362
Fleming, 245
Auld, 478
Hume, 586
Sands, 586
Foggo, 478
Balfour, 362, 363 Hutchison, 587 Scott, 362, 363 Geddes, 121
Ballantyne, 586
Inglis, 362
Scotland, 121 Gibson, 362, 479
Barclay, 587 Inverarity, 362 Shand, 362
Gifford, 479
Bell, 363, 478 Jerdon, 478 Shairp, 245
Gilmour 121
Bethune, 478 Kattegherry, 362 Skene, 362, 478 Girdwood, 362
Blackburn, 121 Laidlaw, 587 Smith, 478
Gordon, 245
Blantyre, 586
Lang, 244
Speid, 121
Graham, 479
Bonar, 362
Lee, 121
Spence, 362
Grant, 121
Brewster, 363
Leith, 586
Spottiswoode, 586 Grey, 587
Brougham, 363
Limond, 121 Stewart, 478 Grierson, 362
Bruce, 244, 245
Lindsay, 362 Stuart, 587
Hardie, 121, ib.
Buchan, 478 Little, 244, 587 Tait, 244
Harrison, 587
Buchanan, 121 Lockhart, 478 Tawse, 587
Hay, 245, 479
Campbell, 121, 362, Lothian, 587 Terrot, 121
Head, 587
ib. 478
Low, 362
Thomson, 121, ib. Hill, 587
Cathcart, 478 Lyon, 587
ib. 244, ib. Home, 363
Clark, 362
Macauley, 362 Tucker, 362 Hunter, 479
Cleghorn, 244
Macbean, 478 Wallas, 302 Jamieson, 121
Cook, 244
M‘Culloch, 121, 478 Watson, 121, 363 Johnston, 363
Corrie, 121
Macdonald, 121, ib. Welsh, 244 Kennedy, 121
Coulson, 587
244, ib.
Wood, 363
Kirkpatrick, 587
Craig, 362
Macgregor, 478 Wyld, 121, 478 Logan, 587
Dalrymple, 245,362 Mackie, 362 W'ylie, 244
Lowe, 245, 478
Dempster, 362
Mackenzie, 121, Wylly, 362 M‘Donald, 362
Douglas, 121
303, 478, 586 Younghusband, 478 Macdouall, 587
Dow, 362, 478 M'Lachlan, 587
Mackenzie, 245,
Dudgeon, 478 M'Leay, 586
MARRIAGES. 363, 479
Dun, 586
Macleod, 121 Archbold, 587 Macintosh, 121,245
Dunbar, 478
M Nair, 586 Archer, 587 M‘Laren, 479
Erskine, 478 Mansfield, 121 Armstrong, 245 Maclean, 121, 478
Farquharson, 478 Matheson, 244 Aylesford, 245 Macqueen, 245
Fleming, 244, 362 Maxwell, 121, 586, Baird, 587
Maitland, 121
Forbes, 352
587
Beaumont, 245 Mardon, 479
Fordyce, 244, 478 Melville, 587 Bell, 478, 479, 587 Marjoribanks, 362
Forrester, 362 Menzies, 121 Bisset, 587
Maxwell, 245
Fraser, 362
Miller, 478
Borthwick, 121 Monteath, 587
Fulton, 362
Milner, 244 Brown, 499, 587 Monteith, 245
Gibson, 363
Mowbray, 121 Cadell, 362
Montgomery, 478
Gordon, 121, 478, Murdoch, 478 Campbell, 478, 587 Morison, 587
ib. ib. 586 Murray, 587 Capel, 362
Morton, 363
Graham, 362, 586 Napier, 586 Chermside, 363 Mower, 366
Grant, 244, 478 Paget, 121
Cheyne, 121 Munro, 245
Gray, 478, 586 Parker, 478 Clapperton, 363 Murray, 363, 478
Greenock, 586 Paterson, 478, 586 Cochrane, 121 Nicholson, 362
Guthrie, 121 Pearson, 478 Cowan, 362
Ormston, 363
Hamilton, 362, 478 Poulett, 478 Cox, 362
Panton, 587
Hawthorn, 244 Prager, 478
Cumin, 478
Paterson, 587
Heriot, 244
Ramsay, 244, 362, Dartmouth, 245
Pegus, 245
Hewat, 363
478
Dick, 362
Percival, 587
Hill, 244
Reid, 121
Dimma, 245 Power, 121
Hogarth, 245 Renny, 362, 478 Douglas, 363 Ralston, 362
VOL. IX.
Ꮞ F


Inder.
395
588, ib.
Oliver (aged 102,) Robb, 122
Stewart, 863, ib. Veitch, 122
364
Robertson, 122,246, 364, 479, 480, ib. Wallace, 587
Orleans, 480
364
Wardlaw, 587
Osborne, 480
Ross, 363
Stivens, 246 Watson, 246, 364,
Oswald, 122, 246 Russell, 364 Stone, 588
480
Palmer, 246 Sandeman, 122,479 Stothard, 479 Watt, 480
Pasley, 245, 479 Sandilands, 480 Stuart, 363, 364 Webster, 122
Pearson, 479 Scoti, 246, 363, 587 Suttie, 364
Willis, 364
Peat, 480
Sheffield, 480 Swan, 480
Willison, 122
Piozzi, 363
Simpson, 245, 479 Swayne, 480
Williamson, 246
Playfair, 588 Sinclair, 245 Swinton, 246 Wilson, 364, 480,
Plunkett, 122 Smith, 246, ib. 480 Sydserf, 246
588
Primrose, 246, 480 Smeddon, 588 Tainsh, 363 Wood, 122, 363,
Pringle, 122, ib. Sommers, 364 Tait, 122
364
245, 246
Spence, 480
Tate, 122
Woodburn, 122
Pyper, 246
Spens, 364
Tawse, 588
Woodhouse, 480
Ramsay, 480 Stair, 364
Thomson, 245, 246, Worth, 480
Raney, 479 Stalker, 122
588
Worcester, 364.
Ranken, 587 Stein, 245
Thynne, 479 Wylie, 122, 588
Read, 363
Stenhouse, 364,479 Tullis, 122
Yule, 588
Richardson, 588 Stevenson, 122 Urquhart, 588





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