THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES NOCTES AMBROSIANA BY WILSON, OHBISTOPHEE NORTH," OP BLACK-WOOD'S MAGAZINE, PROFESSOR OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY IN UNIVERSITY OP EDINBURGH, ETC. MAGINN, LL.D., J. G. LOCKHART, JAMES 'HOGG, AND OTHERS. REVISED EDITION. TVITH MEMOIRS AND NOTES, BY R. SHELTM MACKENZIE, D. C. L VOL. I AUGUST, 1819 AUG., 1824. NEW YORK: W. J. WIDDLETON, PUBLISHER 1880. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1868, BY W. J. WIDDLETON, aihr Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, for the. Southern District of New York. College Library PREFACE TO THE REVISED EDITION OF 1863. \ & <5 O V.\ TIIE continued demand for the "Nodes Ambrosianaj," shows that the public mterest in that work is unabated. Ere finally dismissing this revised edition from my hands, I desire to state how I undertook the work, nine years ago. One of the miscellaneous publications which I early delighted to read was Blackwood's Magazine. The first number that ever fell into my hands when I was a boy contained the commencement of the "Nocles," in which Christopher North and Morgan O'Doherty were the interlocutors, and I firmly believed, for a time, that these personages, who talked so naturally yet so brilliantly of men and manners books and politics, were as real individuals as any living authors of the day. In time, of course, I came to know better; but I never lost my liking for the " Noctes " more especially after I became acquainted with Wil- son, Maginn, Lockhart, and Hogg. Circumstances combined made me a newspaper editor and magazine writer before I was well out of my teens. And though from that time I was anxious to see the "Noctes" in a collective form, I did not anticipate that this was ever to be executed by myself. However, a very extensive course of reading, a large ac- quaintance with authors, artists, and public mon, and an excellent memory, un- consciously prepared me for what, indeed became " a labor of love " in later years. It gratified me to learn that Mr. Blackwood had a complete edition in view, as early as the beginuir.g of 1832. This was prevented by his death in September, 18:54. In 1843, leading publishers in Philadelphia, reprinted the "Noctes" iii four volumes. Without any prefatory history of the series, without any notice of the authors, without the slightest key to the subjects and persons discussed and introduced, almost without even the dates of the respective numbers, and without an index, this edition was as indifferent as neglect, carelessness, and want of taste could make it. It is not surprising that the sale was limited. In 1852 I became a resident in the United States, where the first work I edited was "Shell's Sketches of the Irish Bar," the success of which gave its publisher such confidence in my pen that he desired to employ it again. I proposed to edit the " Noctes Ambrosianas," with as full annotations as would make the work thoroughly intelligible to general readers. At the end of April, 1854, news of Professor Wilson's death reached New York, and my publisher resolved to bring out the " Noctes," provided it could be done by the middle of the ensuing August, so as to come into the fall book-market. Rather rashly, as I now think, I undertook the work, without an adequate idea of the vast labor which it iu- v lived. The first thing was to take the original "Noctes" from the Magazine. Next. to go through about sixty volumes of the Magazine, to search for references to tho text. Lastly, there was the difficulty of distributing the "copy," so as to make five volumes of equal size. 1157S09 IV PREFACE. In the search through Blacku-ood, I discovered in the numbers for August and September, 1819, the articles which I have called "Christopher in the Tent," the precursors of the "Noctes," which occupy the first 128 pages of my first volume. These, to use one of Coleridge's expressions, were "as good as manuscript," for they were unknown, even to myself, until I found them in my search. May, 1854, had fairly set in ere I could commence writing the notes, and the five volumes being distributed among as many printers, as the pressure for time was unusually great, I had to supply fresh copy daily to each, and to correct five separate sets of proofs and revises, and to annotate every passage whero it seemed necessary. At the same time, I was also literary editor and political writer on a daily, and dramatic and musical critic on a weekly paper in New York. Nor was my labor limited to mere annotations for I had to preface the volumes with an elaborate history of "Blackwood's Magazine," and biographies of Wil- son, Lockhart, Hogg, and Maginn. Lastly (and this alone took a fortnight), I had to make a double index, containing over three thousand references. Tho time occupied on the work was three months, during which I averaged fourteen hours work per day taking a recess only on each Sunday. The publication of the five volumes took place on the appointed 15th of August, 1854. The sale of the Philadelphia edition had been about 900 copies in eleven years; of mine, about 3,000 went off in one year. Two years after its publication, Professor Ferrier, son-in-law of John "Wilson, edited the " Noctes " in four volumes. Avowedly omitting all that he believed Wilson had not written (which included much of what he had), he pivnted only thirty-nine out of the whole seventy " Noctes." In his preface he very handsomely complimented the American edition as creditable to my "industry and good sense," and, moreover, made liberal use of my notes. By the critics of tbis country my edition of " The Noctes " was treated with favor, which I value the more because, at the time, I was personally acquainted with few of them. Without appearing invidious, let me particularly mention a long and appreciative review in the New York Tribune, from the accomplished pen of Mr. George Ripley, and, in The Citizen (New York), a paper entitled " A Night with the ' Noctes,' " written by Mr. John Savage, in which sound criti- cism was blended with genial wit, in a conversational manner, much after "Wil- son's own fashion. Speaking of my Index, which I value because of the trouble it gave me, it said: "It is a complete guide to almost every sentence of pith, poetry, or passion in the five volumes. It is an almost perfect concordance of the wit, criticism, personality, punch, porter, oysters, wild-fowl, devilled kidneys, de- canters, spoons, and every thing else indulged in by the school of wits who supped and revelled, or are supposed to have done so, at Master Ambrose's." Nor can my amour propre refrain from mentioning that Dr. S. A. Allibone has done mo the honor of frequently quoting my notes in his surpassing "Critical Dictionary of English Literature and British and American Authors." R. SHELTON MACKENZIE. PHILADELPHIA, March, 18C3. EDITOR'S PREFACE. ADDITIONAL interest is given, by the recent death of Professor Wilson, to the present work. A complete edition of the NOCTES AMBROSIAN,E (with notes and illustrations, necessary to a true understanding of the allusions with which the work is crowded, and the personal satire it contains) cannot be published in England for many years. In the lapse of time since the original appearance of " THE NOCTES " in BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE, persons, localities, and circumstances therein mentioned or glanced at, have been so forgotten, altered, or obscured, as to require brief but sufficient explanations. A literary life, the greater part of which was passed in England and Scotland, has given me familiar acquaintance with most of the individuals and events treated of in this work, and has qualified me, I think, for the editorship which I have as- sumed. Besides a History of BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE, I have written memoirs of Wilson, Lockhart, Hogg and Maginn, the accredited authors of THE NOCTES. The engravings consist of a fine portrait of Wilson, (after Sir J. Watson Gordon, President of the Royal Scottish Academy,) with characteristic full length sketches, by Maclise and Skillin, of the other writers. There is also the fac-simile of a page of THE NOCTES in Professor Wilson's own writing. I have endeavored to render this edition complete, by introducing the cele- brated Chaldee Manuscript, full of satire and libel, which first brought BLACK- WOOD'S MAGAZINE into notoriety was suppressed as soon as published was afterwards boasted of as a brilliant jeu d'esprit, and has been so scarce that the only copy I have ever seen, and I have long sought for it, was that from which I make the present reprint. In August and September, 1819, nearly two years antecedent to the first of THE NOCTES, (which commenced in March, 1822, and closed in February, 1 835,) there appeared a series of articles entitled " CHRISTOPHER IN THE TENT," never before presented in this country, in any shape, which I have here intro- duced as properly prefatory, because the interlocutors in THE TEXT include the greater number of those who afterwards appeared in THE NOCTES. 1 have also inserted a satirical poem entitled " Metricum Symposium Ambrosianum," (originally intended as an addendum to No. III. of THE NOCTES,) in which there is a notice of every living British author of note, in the year 1822. This has never been reprinted in America, and I have copiously annotated it. The VI EDITOR 8 PREFACE. whole work has reen very carefully revised from the original issue in the Mag* zine, whereby Wilson's peculiarities of composition and punctuation are fully preserved. It only remains for me to tender my grateful acknowledgments, for access to ai d loan of books of reference, to Messrs. Harpers, Appletons, and Evans & Dickerson, publishers in New- York ; to Messrs. Evert A. and George L. Duyckinck, for having kindly placed their valuable private library at my ser- rice ; to Mr. Philip J. Forbes, of the Society Library, for access to books, and for information ; to my good friends Messrs. Deans & Howard, (of the New-York Sunday Times,) for the use of a variety of publications, in their pos- nessiou, which I had occasion to consult ; to Dr. Robert Tomes, of New- York, to Dr. Henry Abbott, (of the Collection of Egyptian Antiquities,) to Dr. John W. Francis, of New- York, and to Mr. William Wilson, of Pough- keepsie, for facts, anecdotes, and references. Let me conclude with a story and a moral : In Ireland, during one of the agrarian insurrections of the last century, a banker in Galway, named French, was particularly disliked by the laboring classes. The Peep-o'-Day Boys, as "these sons of night" called themselves, resolved to ruin "that double-distilled villain, ould French." To do this effectually, whenever they visited the houses of the farmers and gentry, besides demanding arms and ammunition, they insisted on the surrender of such of French's bank-notes as were on hand. To show that it was not from a mere predatory motive, they used solemnly to burn the notes before the late possessors, exclaiming, as they were converted into ashes, " There there's more ruin for ould French ; we'll burn every note of his that's above ground, and not leave the villain a brass farthing." They pursued this vindictive game so successfully that, in the course of a year or two, Mr. French was some 4,000 richer by the destruction of notes which he otherwise must have taken up and paid. MORAL. Most gentle public, have no hesitation in following this Peep-o'-Day example. Buy up all copies of THE NOCTES which may get into the market. Loan them not, so that others will be compelled to purchase also. If you clear away tho whole of our large impression, believe that publisher and editor will submit to tuch " ruin," with the exemplary patience of martyrs. B. 3. M 112 NASSAU STREET, Nuw-YoRK, July 25, 1854 HISTORY BY DR. SHELTON MACKENZIE. WILLIAM BLACKWOOD, fotvuJer and proprietor of the Magazine which haa borne his name " to the uttermost parts of the earth," died at his house in Edin- burgh, on the 16th September, 1834, in the fifty-eighth year of his age. His parents, who were in an humble station of life, placed him as apprentice with Bell & Bradfute, well known booksellers and publishers, in Edinburgh, in the latter part of the eighteenth and the earlier years of the nineteenth century. In their employment he read a great variety of books, but Scottish History and Antiquities more particularly engaged his attention. He was known to have closely studied and largely mastered these subjects, and, when he established himself in business, his accomplishments soon attracted the notice of persona whose good opinion was distinction. For many years he was content with being extensively engaged in the sale of classical and antiquarian works, and was considered one of the best informed booksellers of that class in Great Britain. Even as late as forty years ago, what is called the New Town of Edinburgh was regarded with dislike and distrust by the Old. In the latter place, the Castle, the University, the Courts of Law, the Advocates' Library, the Signet Library, the Royal Exchange, the College of Surgeons, Heriot's and Watson's Hospitals, the principal churches, the Assembly Hall, and even the Palace of Holy rood, were distinguishing features. There, too, were the book-shops, the printing-offices, and the publishers' places of business. In the New Town, there were few shops. The gentry, it is true, had domiciles there. But the idea of any publisher moving thither would have been looked upon as the height of folly, half a century since. Mr. Blackwood was a man of much sagacity. He saw that the rich, who are naturally purchasers of books, lived in the New Town. He sold off his large stock, chiefly consisting of old books, moved to a large and airy suite of rooms in Prince's street, which had formerly been occupied by a notable coufeo ?iii HISTORY OF BLACKWOOD 8 MAGAZINE. tioner, and was therefore well known to the public, and prepared to be to Ediu burgh what John Murray, of Albemarle street, was among the publishers of London. The " trade " in the Old Town ominously shook their heads, and saga- ciously predicted ruin. Blackwood did not mind them very much, but moved to the immortal No. 17 Prince's street, in the year 1816, and applied himself to the disposal of general literature and the business of a popular publisher. In April, 1817, he brought out No. 1 of BLACKWOOD'S EDINBURGH MAGAZINE. It is necessary now to go back a little. The first Number of the Edinburgh "Review had appeared on the 25th October, 1802 ; precisely at the period when Pitt, yielding to the general desire for peace, had retired from office, in order that Addington (afterwards Lord Sidmouth) might make a treaty with France for that purpose. Then followed Pitt's return to office in 1804 ; the prosecu- tion of the war with France with redoubled energy ; the splendid victories on land, with which Napoleon dazzled the world ; the battle of Trafalgar, where triumph was dearly purchased by the death of Nelson ; the death of Pitt, in January, 1806 ; the succession of Fox to office, with his tenure of it lament- ably abridged by death ; the continued successes of Napoleon ; the annexation of Spain and Portugal to the French empire ; and the determination of Eng- land, carried into effect by Wellington, to rescue the Peninsula from the usur- pation of France. All these occurrences intervened in the seven years between 1802 and 1809, and afforded a vast supply of materials for discussion in the Edinburgh Review. Meanwhile, that periodical was successful beyond all hope and precedent, but it inculcated the idea which was really entertained by Jeffrey that resistance to the far-spreading power of Napoleon was and would be useless, and that peace with Franco, on any terms, was the only means by which the political existence of England could possibly be preserved. The English and Scottish Tories and Anti-Uallicans held different and (as the event has proved) wiser opinions. They determined to oppose the Edinburgh Review whose circulation was 9,000 a number at this time, with the influ- ence which such extensive publicity gave it. The literary criticism, which was very good, carried it into quarters where the political articles, of them- selves, might have tabooed it. In February, 1809, with John Murray as its publisher, and William Gifford as its editor, the first number of the Quarterly Review came before the world. With such contributors as Scott, George Ellis, Canning, Frere, Croker, Southey, and other men of repute and intellect, the Quarterly immediately took the high stand which it has since maintained. John Ballantyne, the nominal head of Scott's publishing house, was Murray's Edinburgh agent After some time, Blackwood was placed in that lucrative position. When Scott quarrelled with Constable, the Edinburgh publisher, in 1816, Murray and Blackwood gladly became publishers of the next of the Waverley Novels, which happened to be the first series of " Tales of My Laud- lord." This was immediately before Blackwood had gone to the New Town, HISTORY OF BLACK WOOD S MAGAZINE. IX and when he was known only as an intelligent antiquarian bookseller ; anj agent to Murray. Removed to the New Town, hi 1816, Blackwood appears to have con- templated the idea of exalting the character of magazine literature, then fallen very low indeed. At this time he was forty years old. In Peter's Letters, (by Lockhart,) he was described as " a nimble active-looking man of middle age, and moves about from one corner to another, with great alacrity, and appa- rently under the influence of high animal spirits. His complexion is very san- guineous, but nothing can be more intelligent, keen, and sagacious, than the expression of the whole physiognomy ; above all, the gray eyes and eyebrows, as full of locomotion as those of Catalani. The remarks he makes are, in gen- eral, extremely acute much more so, indeed, than those of any member of the trade I ever heard speak upon such topics." Some time before this, James Hogg had conducted a weekly literary journal in Edinburgh called " The Spy." It failed, but Hogg, who was full of pro- jects, got the idea that a monthly periodical would succeed. There was none in Edinburgh, at that time, except a miserable periodical entitled " The Scots' Magazine." Hogg spoke on the subject to the late Thomas Pringle, who, it appeared, had simultaneously entertained a similar idea. Then Blackwood was spoken to, and he, also, had not only thought of, but was actually prepar- ing for such publication. It is evident, then, that Blackwood had not derived the idea from Hogg, as it had previously been a creation of his own mind. Blackwood, sagacious even beyond the sagacity of "canny Scotchmen," had noted two points, that the Edinburgh Review, with its light flying artil- lery of wit, personality, and sarcasm, was a more important assailant than the Quarterly, with its heavy ordnance ; and that the Quarterly had a limited circulation in Scotland, wherein lay the greatest sale of the Edinburgh Review. Blackwood was a decided party-man. He belonged to the Tory side, and hated all that was Whig. From the first, he determined to make his Maga- zine the assailant of the Edinburgh Review and its party. On the first of April, 1817, the first number of " BLACKWOOD 's EDINBURGH MAGAZINE" was published. It was edited by Messrs. Pringle and Cleghorn, both of whom, curiously enough, were much deformed in person. Truth to say, the words " dull and decent" would truly characterize this opening num- ber. There were " Notices concerning the Scottish Gipsies," written by Scott, (who occasionally wrote for it until illness wholly prostrated him) there was u story of Pastoral Life, by Hogg there were some antiquarian articles, prob- ably selected by Blackwood there was some poetry there were a few re- views there was a monthly chronicle of events, reports on agriculture and vommerce, and lists of births, deaths, and marriages. Such publication, though Henry Mackenzie and others speedily came into it, as contributors, was not what the times required nor Mr. Blackwood. He X HISTORY OF BLACKWOOD's MAGAZINE. speedily felt, and lamented, its want of a distinctive character. By the time the fourth number was published, he and his editors had quarrellod : the won- der is how they ever agreed, they being bitter Whigs, while he was a decided Tory. Pringle and Cleghorn went over to Constable, the publisher, conveying with them the list of subscribers to the Magazine, which, they said, belonged to them. Constable, wroth with Blackwood for having obtained, out of hia hands, the publication of the Waverley Novels, received the deserters with open arms, installing them hi the Editorship of the " Scot's," henceforth, for the brief time of its future existence, to be known as " Constable's Edinburgh Magazine." Blackwood was thrown on his own resources, which did not fail him. He undertook to be his own Editor, and so he continued, for the remaining seven- teen years of his life. He looked about for assistants, and found them. There was James Hogg, whose Queen's Wake had placed him, not long before, in a station, among Scottish poets, inferior only to Robert Burns and Walter Scott. There was John Wilson, then in the spring of intellect and flush of young manhood. There was John Gibson Lockhart, eminently gifted by nature and largely improved by education. There was Robert Pierce Gillies, (after- wards the Kempferhausen of " The Noctes,") whose admirable notices of the dramatic literature of Germany and Scandinavia speedily gave the Magazine a peculiar and inimitable character. There were others, of less note, but these were enough at the time. In Blackwood for October. 1817, appeared an article occupying nearly eight pages, and entitled " Translation from an Ancient Chaldee Manuscript," which took the shape of a book of Holy Writ, being couched in biblical language, and divided into chapter and verse. In reality, this was a sharp and pregnant satire upon Constable, Jeffrey, Pringle, Cleghorn, and the most noted members of the Whig party in Edinburgh. There is no room to doubt that the main authorship of this literary Congreve rocket (for so it was) must be credited to James Hogg, though the wits of Maga used to sneer at the idea. His own ac- count, published in each of his five autobiographies, (all of which appeared in William Blackwood's lifetime,) was simply this, that he wrote the " Chaldee Manuscript," and sent to Mr. Blackwood, from Yarrow ; that, on first reading it, Blackwood did not think of publishing it ; that " some of the rascals to whom he showed it, after laughing at it, by their own accounts, till they were sick, persuaded him, nay almost forced him to insert it ; for some of them went so far as to tell him, that if he did not admit that inimitable article they would never speak to him as long as they lived," and that they interlarded it " with a good deal of deevilry of their own," which Hogg had never thought of. Hogg saw nothing objectionable in the article, and would not have scrupled to have shown it to Constable, (therein described as " the Crafty,") nor to Pringle who, with Cleghorn, figured in it, as one of " the Beasts." All that Hogg meant HISTORY OF BLACKWOOD S MAGAZINE. XI was to give a " sly history of the transaction, j [Pringle's quarrel with Black wood,] and the great literary battle that was to be fought." Hogg's own por- tion of the " Chaldee Manuscript " consisted of the first two chapters, part of the third, and part of the last. He suspected Lockhart, who was eminently sarcastic and personal, of having thrown in the pepper. Words cannot adequately describe the dismay, astonisliment, wrath and hatred which greeted the seventh number of Blackwood, containing the Chaldee Manuscript. There was a wild outcry, all through Edinburgh, before the Magazine had been one hour published. Not alone was the accusation of personality made, but it was declared that the interests of religion and society demanded the prosecution, with a view to the heavy punishment, of Mr. Black- wood, for having published " a ribald and profane parody upon the Bible." Greatly alarmed, Blackwood determined to withdraw the offensive article. He had actually issued only two hundred numbers of the Magazine. Every other copy that went out, was minus the " Chaldee," and, in the next number, which was published in November, 1817, there appeared the following very humble apology : " The Editor has learned with regret, that an article in the first edition o last number, which was intended merely as &jeu $ esprit, has been construed so as to give offence to individuals justly entitled to respect and regard ; he has on that account withdrawn it in the second edition, and can only add, that if what has happened could have been anticipated, the article in question cer- tainly never would have appeared." Some prosecutions were commenced, and Blackwood had to pay 1000, in costs and damages, in two years. More were threatened. The result was that, henceforth, Blackwood's Magazine became looked for, month after month, in the expectation of some other group of personalities. In due season, it must be confessed, this expectation duly obtained remarkable fruitage. At this distance of time, when thirty-seven years have elapsed between the orig- inal publication of the Chaldee Manuscript and this notice of it, difficult would it be to point out a tithe of the personalities with which it literally abounded. To obtain even a sight of the article has been difficult. I searched all the na- tional and public libraries in England and Scotland, where sets of Blackwond are kept, and never succeeded in meeting one containing the first (and sup- pressed) edition of No. VII., containing The Chaldee. A short time since, in New-York, I discovered a set of Blackwood containing the desiderated article.* and, as it is in itself, not only a literary curiosity, but is repeatedly referred to * It was Mr Evans, (of the firm of Evans A Dickerson, New-York,) who informed me that lie possessed a complete set of Blackwood, with thii suppressed article. On examination, 1 found that it was even as he said. Eventually, I purchased this set, but am not the less obliged to the polite courtesy of the vendors, which permitted me to make a copy of the article, gome weeks before I had determined to obtain ownership of'the valuable scries. M. Xll HISTORY OF BLA.CKWOOD'S MAGAZINE. in The Xoct^s. I ?hal! reprint it, at the end of this narrative, with notes suffi- cient to indicate the principal persons therein referred to. Soon after the publication of the Chaldee Manuscript, Wilson, Lockhart, Gillies and Hogg entered into very intimate relations with Blackwood. This list was speedily augmented. In 1818, the late Major Thomas Hamilton (sub- saquently known as author of " The Youth and Manhood of Cyril Thornton.'' auil ' Men and Manners in America ") entered the corps as a volunteer. The following year witnessed the adhesion of Dr. Maginn, afterwards known, in Blackwood, as Morgan Odoherty. John Gait, the novelist, soon joined the band, and a very young versemaker (the late David Macbeth Moir) wrote a great, deal for it under the Greek signature of A. But the actual conduct of the Maga- zine, which included correspondence with contributors, was wholly in Black- wood's hands. He was an excellent man of business, and the Magazine owed much of its success to him. As early as February, 1818, probably induced by the bold personalities of the Chaldee Manuscript, the Magazine obtained an able, constant, and power- ful contributor in the person of Timothy Tickler, who figures, very extensively, as one of the dramatis persona of the Noctes. The real name of this writer was Robert Syme. John Wilson's mother was his sister. He was a Writer of the Signet, in extensive practice at Edinburgh, had considerable property, listed in a grand house in George's Square, and was, if all accounts be true, one of the greatest Tories in ah 1 broad Scotland. Hogg describes him as " an uncom- monly fine-looking elderly gentleman, about seven feet high, and as straight as an arrow." He was a good violinist, also, which strongly recommended him to Hogg. He wrote on a variety of topics in the Magazine, and always with marked ability. At one time, it was a habit to review, in Blackwood, books which never had been published. In February, 1819, a notable instance of this occurred. There was a review, critical enough and rich in extracts, of a book professing to have been printed in Aberystwith, (a small watering-place in Wales,) and entitled "Peter's Letters to his Kinsfolk, being the Substance of some familiar Communications concerning the present State of Scotland, written during a late Visit to that Country." A certain Dr. Peter Morris, of Pen- sharpe Hall, Aberystwith, was invented as the letter- writer. The extracts were piquant enough, and the allusions to persons and things said to be noticed in the book, were abundantly provoking. In the next Blackwood there was a further and fuller review. The result was that Lockhart was induced to com- plete " Peter's Letters," which Blackwood published, (as a second edition !) and it soon reached a third. Caustic, witty, earnest, personal, and fearless, " Peter's Letters " attracted great attention, and no slight animadversion. The author's name got known, and the Magazine gained much credit for having introduced Dr. Morris to the world. Among the early contributors, in prose or verse, were Sir Thomas Dick HISTORY OF BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE. xiii Lauder, who afterwards wrote a graphic account of the Great Morayshire Floods in 1829 ; Dr. McCrie, the biographer of John Knox and Andrew Melvil ; Sir David Brewster ; Wordsworth, the poet ; Dr. Anster, of Dublin, whose translation of " Faust " is probably the best yet published ; Coleridge ; Gait, the Scottish novelist ; the late William Gosnell, of Cork, author of " Daniel O'Kourke ;" J. J. Callanan, and J. D. Murphy, also natives of Cork, the first of whom will be remembered by his ballad of " Gougaue Barra ;" Bowles, the poet ; Crofton Croker, author of " Irish Fairy Legends ; " John Hughes, (" Mr. Buller,") whose " Magic Lay of the One Horse Chay" first appeared in Maga ; Barry Cornwall ; Gleig, author of " The Subaltern ;" Professor George Dunbar, of Edinburgh University ; Tennant, the Oriental scholar, author of " Anster Fair ;" and Mr. Townshend, of Cork, who was garrulous and anecdotal under the signature of " Senex." J knew him in my youth, and regret that he did not publish his Recollections in extenso. The first actual and out-of-the-ordinary article which showed that a new power had begun to breathe itself into the Magazine, appeared in the number for August, 1819, and was the commencement of the Ante-Noetes series called " Christopher in the Tent." It affected to describe the sayings and doings of the Editor and his contributors, while encamped, on the commence- ment of the shooting season, at the head of the river Dee, among the moun- tains of Aberdeenshire. A variety of fictitious, with a few actual personages, were introduced. There were Dr. Morris, Mr. Wastle, Odoherty, the Ettrick Shepherd, Tickler, Kempferhausen, and others, including Buller and Seward, (representatives of the two English Universities,) with Price and Tims, a couple of Cockney tourists. Nearly all these were creations of and in the Magazine. Not so, Dr. Scott, the Odontist of Glasgow, who is entitled to u distinct paragraph, as one of the Curiosities of Literature. James Scott was a reality, described by Hogg as " a strange-looking, bald- headed, bluff little man, practising as a dentist in Edinburgh and Glasgow ; keeping a good house and hospitable table m both, and considered skilful." Of literature he was wholly ignorant, but Lockhart and others perpetually mystified him, publishing ballads and songs in his name, which, at last, he used to sing as his own. whenever he could get auditors Pet phrases, allusions to particular incidents and persons, were so adroitly introduced into these pieces, that while his friends marvelled how he had contrived to appear a dull man fur the preceding fifty years of his life nobody discredited his claims to authorship. " The Lament for Captain Paton," one of Lockhart's best bat lad?, was put into Dr. Scott's mouth, in The Tent, and gained him so much reputation, that, on a visit to Liverpool, soon after, the Od^ntist actually was entertained at a public dinner, on the strength of his repute/1 connection with Eiackwood! The wits of the Magazine even went to the length of announc- ing, among forthcoming works. " Lyrical Ballads, frith a Dissertation on some XIV HISTORY OF BLACK WOOD 8 MAGAZINE. popular corruptions of Poetry ; by James Scott, Esq. Two small volume? 12mo." He was anxious for the publication, and had even sat for his por trait, as a frontispiece. The first section of " The Tent " was so popular, that the whole of the suc- ceeding number (for September, 1819) was devoted to the continuation and conclusion, in two parts. Among the characters, real and imaginary, now brought forward, in addition to those already named, were Blackwood, John Ballantyne, (hit off to the life,) Francis Jeffrey, Professor JVIcCulloch, Priugle and Cleghcrn, (ex-editors of Blackwood,) Mrs. McWhirter and her husband, the erudite Dr. Parr, the Earl of Fife, the Duke and Duchess of Gordon, and Prince Leopold, now King of the Belgians ! In fact, nearly three years before the actual commencement of the Noctes Ambrosiana?, here was the overture to that renowned series where wit and wisdom found a voice. As such, I have included it in this collection, of which it properly is at once an initiatory and integral portion. No part of Christopher in the Tent has ever before been published in America : as Coleridge would (and did) say, " It is as good as manuscript." In October, 1830, in an article called " The Moors," there are some reminis- cences of the imaginary proceedings in The Tent, in August and September, 1819. Wilson here lamented the death of the Odontist paid a tribute to the evanished glory of Dr. Parr's wig declared that Odoherty had been gathered to his fathers, and that his widow (Mrs. McWhirter) had applied for a pension, which the Wellington Ministry were likely to refuse, but which their succes- sors would certainly grant, and that Tims, though puny, was far from unwell, " and still engaged in polishing tea-spoons, and other plated articles, at a rate cheaper than travelling gipsies do horn." Wilson repeatedly writes from " The Tent," as witness his earliest and his latest articles in Maga. There is something characteristic of his love of external nature, a passion which filled his mind while yet a boy, in the pertinacity with which, in his writings, he delights to traverse mountain and valley, to breast the deep waters of the dark and lonely tarn, to speed across the heathery moors, to follow the rapid river to its small source among the hills, to claim and make acquaint- ance with the free denizens of earth and air, to hold companionship ,with the humble shepherd in his turf-built shieling, far up among the clouds and sun- shine, in the extensive tracks where thousands of sheep found food, and, at all times and seasons, to " Look through Nature up to Nature's God." If it be noticed that Christopher North clarum et venerabile nomen ! is not actually designated as such, under "The Tent," my reply is the very sufli- cient one that up to this time, the name had not been invented. The conducted of liiackwooil had hitherto been represented as a sort of " stut uominid HISTORY OF BLACK WOOD S MAGAZINE. XV nmbra," and was spoken of as " the veiled Editor." No doubt, the inconve nience of this want of individuality was felt. Therefore, on the back of the contents-page of Slackwood for September, 1819, appeared the following an- nouncement among a variety of other (imaginary) " Books preparing for Pub- lication," by Blackwood, of Edinburgh, and CadeU & Davies, of London : THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY of CHRISTOPHER NORTH, Esq., Editor of Blackwood' Edinburgh Magazine, in 3 vols 8vo, with numerous engravings of men and tilings. " Had any man the courage to write a full, candid, and unaffected account of what he himself has seen and thought he could not fail to make the most interesting and instructive book in the world." KANT. In the first volume of this work will be found a copious account of all the extraordinary scenes which occurred in Paris at the commencement of the Revolution, and of the wonderful escape of the Author shortly after the mar tyrdom of King Louis. The second is chiefly occupied with the political state of Scotland in the years immediately succeeding and sketches of the many singular characters first about that time developed in this part of the island. The Author's travels into various countries of Europe, particularly Spain, Sicily, Germany, and Ireland his return to Britain and final establishment in the metropolis of Scotland together with free and plain strictures on some recent transactions of a very uncommon nature, will bring the third volume to a conclusion. The Author is not insensible to the very great boldness of the Work which he has thus undertaken to prepare for the public eye. The nature of those clamours which cannot fail to precede, attend, and follow, the publication of his Memoirs has been abundantly contemplated by him, and he has fairly made up his mind to endure them all. The age at which he has arrived is such as to convince him of the folly of either fearing or hoping much for himself, llis only object and ambition is to produce an impartial narrative and if he does BO, he soes no reason to doubt that that narrative will be a KTHMA E2 AEI. From this period, the eidolon called CHRISTOPHER NORTH, was the recog- nised editor of Blackwood. Here he alluded to his age as being far ad- vanced. Judging from a subsequent statement in the Noctes, immortal North was born in December, 1751, which would make him 68, in The Tent; 71, when the Noctes commenced ; and 84, when they were concluded. Of course, then, in June, 1849, when the Dies Boreales were commenced, North must have been 98, and must have reached the ripe age of 101, when the last was penned, in September, 1852.* The first of the Noctes Ambrosiante was published in March, 1822. The interlocutors were North and Odoherty. In the preceding June, Dr. Maginn, who had become one of the most prolific, as he certainly was the most learned. Vide the article in Etackwovd, for May, 18M, which gives this as the date of Wilson's last contribution. M. XVI HISTORY OF BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINL. of all the contributors, had visited Blackwood, at Edinburgh, and made inti- mate acquaintance with Wilson, Lockhart, Hogg, Hamilton, Gillies, and ifia rest of his collaborateurs. I am much disposed to attribute the first of the Noctes wholly to his pen, and I am confident that No. IV., (July, 1822,) in which Byron and Odoherty are the only speakers, could have been written by none other than " The Doctor." The famous Greek motto, with the (very) free translation, which used to head each of the Noctes, was not introduced until No. VI. It was written by JSlaginn, and runs as follows : XPH A'EN ZYMITOSIQ KYAIKQN ITEPINISZOMENAQN HAEA KQTIAAONTA KA9HMENON OINOIIOTAZEIN. PHOC. ap. Ath. [This is a distich by wise old Phocylides, An ancient wfio wrote crabbed Greek in no Hilly days; Meaning, " Tis RIGHT FOR GOOD WINEBIBBING PEOPLE, NOT TO LET THE JUG PACE ROUND THE BOARD LIKE A CRIPPLE J BUT GAILY TO CHAT WHILE DISCUSSING THEfR TIPPLE." An excellent rule of the hearty old cock 'tis And a very Jit motto to put to our Noctes.] C. N. ap. Ambr. Whoever began the Noctes, or whatever pens were first employed upon them, there can be no doubt that, very speedily, Wilson's was the master-mind which pressed the individuality of genius into them. Was it wonderful, then, if they bore the marks of his authorship? Peculiar turns of expression, and par- ticular trains of thought, such as only he indulged in, enabled his friends to trace his pen through the series, month after month, year after year. From March, 1822, until February, 1835, when the series closed, having extended to Seventy-One Numbers, no Magazine articles won more attention or favor. Great as was their popularity in England, it was peculiarly in America that their high merit and undoubted originality received the heartiest recog- nition and appreciation. Nor is this wonderful, when it is considered that for one reader of Blackwood's Magazine in the old country, there cannot be less than fifty in the new. There was a strong desire among the more cultivated minds of Great Britain, to have the series collected, and I have understood 1hat the subject was seriously discussed, by Wilson and the Messrs. Black- wood ; but it was considered that, abounding in literary and political personal- ities, as each of the Noctes did, it would be wholly impossible to make a collective republication without such omissions as would virtually destroy the original character of the articles. It was considered that a period of five-and- twenty or thirty years must pass, before the Noctes, unmutilated, and made clear by biographical, literary, political, and general notes, could be presented, s a whole, to the British public. On this side of the water, no such reasons for delay existed, and the repub- HISTORY OF BLACKWOOD S MAGAZINE. XV11 lication of The Noctes Ambrosianse took place in 1843. They formed four closely-printed volumes, and I shall only say of them, that they were distin guished by two faults, one of omission, the other of commission. In the first place no date having been given in any instance, the reader was left wholly in the dark as to the time of each dialogue ; in the second, the whole of Wilson's peculiar mode of persoujfying things (which he largely did, by the abundant use of capital letters in nouns) was altered, and wherever a word commenced with a capital thus giving it a sort of brevet title on the page it was reduced to the [lower-case] ordinary rauk-and-file. It is clear that if a writer make it part of his system to have certain words commence with a particular de- scription of letter, (as Wilson did and as Carlyle does,) it marks his style, and should be preserved. A great deficiency in the first American edition of the Noctes was the want of an Index. It will be perceived that I have remedied, in the present edition, all that is complained of. The new matter now added makes the series as complete, so far as the text is in question, as I can make it. What else I have done, in illustration, may speak for itself. Meanwhile, though Blackwood never relinquished the actual business con- duct of the Magazine, Wilson gradually became the virtual editor. As one of the Professors in Edinburgh University, he had station ; and years, as they glided on, brought soberer thought. In 1826, Lockhart went to London, to conduct the Quarterly Review, and with him departed much of the personal and caustic sarcasm of Maga. The more generous impulses of Wilson became lords of the ascendant. The onslaught upon the Cockney School of Litera- ture was laid aside, and every man of genius who chose to write for Maga could " Claim kindred there and have his claim allowed." It would be a long task even to enumerate all who, from that time, contrib- uted to Blackwood. To the last, Hogg and Hamilton, Aird and Sym con- tinued in that band. There Maginn, for over twenty years, poured out the treasures of his learning, wit, and fancy. There, some of Lockhart's most brilliant essays and poems first met the public eye. There, Thomas Double- day a poet then, and only a political economist now, delighted to luxuriate. There, the delicate fancy of Charles Lamb was allowed its full range. There, Caroline Bowles was ever welcome, whether in her prose " Chapters on Churchyards," or in her simple and touching lyrics. There, after many and notable failures in other departments of letters, Gait discovered that his power lay in the delineation of familiar Scottish life. There, " Delta " flooded the land with many thousand lines of unreadable " poetry," and showed, by his " Autobiography of Mansie Wauch, tailor at Dalkeith," that not in sentiment but in humor was his real strength, in which, had he pleased, he might have surpassed Gait himself. There, Allan Cunningham gave " prose by a poet," in the adventures of Mark Macrobii , the Cameronian. There, De Quincey VOL. i. 2 ' BISTORT OF BLACK WOOD'S MAGAZINE. poured out his subtlety, which, were it less diffuse, would have been more valuable. There, Coleridge, a greatly superior mind, occasionally laid his thoughts before the public. And there, a star among them, Mrs. Hemans occasionally occupied a page or two with some noble lyric. Her " Aspiration and Despondency " was first given to the world in Blackwood. Great political changes took place during this time ; the brief premier- ship of Canning the incapacity of Lord Goderich, his successor the iron grasp of power by "the Duke' the election for Clare, which sent O'Connell to Parliament the granting of Catholic Emancipation, by a Ministry whose lives had been spent in resisting it the consequent branding Wellington and Peel as traitors (to party) the death of George the Fourth the outcry for Parliamentary Reform, under his successor the contest for " the Bill " the downfall of the Tories the uprise of the Whigs, all of these were fruitful topics, and were discussed in the articles in Maga, as well as at the Noctes. Among the literary papers which now appeared may be noticed the con- tinuation of, scarcely inferior to, Swift's History of John Bull, written by Professor George Moir, also author of the beautiful series entitled " Shak- epcare in Germany." Nor should there be omitted, in this rapid enumeration, the finest nautical fictions of the age, ("Tom Cringle's Log," and the " Cruise of the Midge,") written by one whose very name Michael Scott was ever unknown to Mr. Blackwood. In September, 1834, "Ebony," as he loved to be called, (the Chaldee Manuscript gave him the title,) " shuffled off this mortal coil," igno- rant of the identity of Michael Scott, who followed him, in the next year. In Blackwood, after this, appeared Sir Daniel K. Sandford's admirable papers (adapted from the German of Meissner) on the Youth and Manhood of Alcibiades. There, too, after six English periodicals had peremptorily rejected them, were published Samuel Warren's " Passages from the Diary of a late Physician," which literally took the world of letters by storm, and were succeeded by the yet more attractive nove! alas ! that it should be a carica- ture from first to last of " Ten Thousand a Year." So great was the catholic spirit of Maga uow, that the " Men of Character " of republican Douglas Jerrold appeared under the same cover with a biog- raphy of Burke, and the historical romance of " Marston," by Croly, the Tory Macnish, the Glasgow doctor, was allowed to make his eccentric but often dull appearance as "The Modern Pythagorean." Ingoldsby (our genial friend Barham) introduced " My Cousin Nicholas " to the world. And, specially invited by Wilson, the late John Sterling contributed his delightful " Literary Lore." There, too, was the late M. J. Chapman, with his translations from the plays of ./Eschylus. There was William Hay, not translating, but actually transfusing the Greek Anthology into English poetry. There, Walter Savage Landor spoke out, as familiar with the illustrious of past centuries, in his HISTORY OF BLACKWOOD S MAGAZINE. XIX "Imaginary Conversations." There, Professor IT. H. Wilson, of Oxford, gave Specimens of the Hindu Drama. There, James Ferrier (now Professor of Moral Philosophy in the University of St. Andrew's) produced his eloquent and thoughtful Introduction to the Philosophy of Consciousness. And there, while yet a youth, William E. Aytoun (afterwards Wilson's son-in-law) ga\ e trochaic versions of Homer, such as have not yet been surpassed. After Blackwood's death, the Magazine came more under Wilson's surveil- Lnce than it formerly had been. He test no time in inviting Bulwer to con- tribute and to this we owe some spirited translations of Schiller, and the two prose fictions (" The Caxtons," and " My Novel") which are admitted to be the best productions of the greatest living author of England. Monckton Milnes (who certainly wants common sense, or he would not have published a volume of " Poetry for the People," and charged two dollars for the book !) was allowed to spread his elegant fancies over occasional pages of Maga. Here were welcomed the lofty strains of Elizabeth Barrett Barrett, the greatest of living female poets. Here, Charles Mackay, the lyrist of humanity and pro- gress, earnestly poured out heart-poetry. It was here that the late Bartholo- mew Simmons, a young Irish poet, who " died too soon," gave his exquisite lyrics to the public. And here, also, did Samuel Phillips, now the literary critic on the " Times " newspaper in London, first make a direct and success- ful challenge, on the universal mass of readers, in his powerful life-novel called u Caleb Stukely." Nor should I here omit to state that some of the most powerful articles, (chiefly on American politics and literature,) ever dashed off by John Neal, appeared in Maga. At a later period, here was also published the earnest poetry of Albert Pike, breathing the true spirit of old mythology, and the brilliant prose-fictions of Ruxton. Ten years after Blackwood's death, during which the sceptre had virtually been in Wilson's hands, " the Professor " (as he was always called) gradually began to yield the power into other and younger hands. One of his oldest friends had been old Roger Aytoun, W. S. in Edinburgh.* A son of his. William Edmonstone Aytoun, had become a dear friend of Wilson's a yet dearer of Wilson's daughter, whom he married. The elder Aytoun was a tierce little Whig : the younger, a staunch Tory ; able, eloquent, witty, and laborious which last was proven by his researchful Life of Richard the Lion- hearted, in Murray's Family Library. He became a liberal contributor, in prose and verse, to Blackwooa. Station he did not lack, for he was Professor of Rhetoric and Belles Lettres in his Alma Mater, the University of Edin- burgh. And so, Wilson's son-in-law and intimate friend, he may lie said tc have glided into Wilson's place in the Magazine. Under him, old contributors became more industrious : what Blackwood is there now, without an article * The lawyers, in Edinburgh, between the actual counsellor*, who plead, and the mere attor- neys, are Writers to the Signet. M XX HISTORY OF BLACKWOOD S MAGAZINE. from Alison, the historian ? Aytoun's own force has been further developed in satiric fiction who can forget his railway novelettes, " My First Spec in the Boggleswades," and " How we got up the Glenmutchkin Railway, and how we got out of it " ? but his Lays of the Scottish Cavaliers show his vein of poetry to be rich and original. His powers of satire are great though, us yet, he has used them very rarely. So, as I have said, Aytoun gradually glided into the editorship of Maga. Nor did Wilson at once retire. He commenced, and completed, a series of critical articles, in his own style, called " Specimens of the British Classics." After this, the old man eloquent flashed out in his " Dies Boreales," the last of which was his latest composition. Beyond this need the record be carried on? Wilson self-deposed, sparkling to the last, and then a half unconsciousness between him and the grave. Aytoun, educated, as it were , into the management of Maga. Here join the Past and the Present. To this, as fitting appendix, I subjoin The Chaldee Manuscript. The notes which I append, merely indicate the principal persons and things alluded to : at the lapse of thirty-seven years, it is impossible to do more. No doubt every sentence had its proper barb, when written : TRANSLATION FROM AN ANCIENT CHALDEE MANUSCRIPT. [The present age seems destined to witness the recovery of many admirable pieces of writing, which had been supposed to be lost for ever. The Eruditi of Milan are not the only persons who have to boast of being the instruments of these resuscitations. We have been favored with the following translation of a Chaldee MS. which is preserved in the great Library of Paris, (Salle 2d, No. 53, 13. A. M. M.,) by a gentleman whose attainments in Oriental Learning are well known to the public. It is said that the celebrated Silvester de Lacv is at present occupied with a publication of the original. It will be prefaced by an Inquiry into the Age when it was written, and the name of the writer ] and ruleth over every people, and kin- dred, and tongue, that handle the pen of the writer. 2 And he said unto me, Take heed what thou seest. for great things shall come of it ; the moving of a straw shall be as the whirlwind, and the shaking of a reed as the great tempeet CHAPTER I. AND I saw in my dream, and behold one like the Messenger of a King came toward me from the East, and he look me up and carried me into the midst of the great city that looketh to- ward the north and toward the east,* * The city of Edinburgh. M. THE CHALDEE MANUSCRIPT. XXI 3 And I looked, and behold a man clothed in plain apparel stood in the door of his house : and I saw his name, and the number of his name ; and his name was as it had been the color of ebony, and his number was the number of a maiden, when the days of "he years of her virginity have expired * 4 And I turned mine eyes, and be- hold two beastsf came from the land of the borders of the South; and when I saw them I wondered with great admiration. 5 The one beast was like unto a Iambi and the other like unto a bear, and they had wings on their heads ; their faces also were like the faces of men, the joints of their legs like the polished cedars of Lebanon, and their feet like the feet of horses preparing to go forth to battle ; and they arose and they came onward over the face of the earth, and they touched not the ground as they went. 6 And they came unto the man who was clothed in plain apparel, and stood in the door of his house. 7 And they said unto him, Give us of thy wealth, that we may eat and live, and thou shalt enjoy the fruits of our labors for a time, times, or half a time. 8 And he answered and said unto them, What will you unto me where- unto I may employ you ? 9 And the one said, I will teach the people of thy land to till and to sow ; to reap the harvest, and gather the sheaves into the barn; to feed their flocks, and enrich themselves with the wool. 10 And the other saidj 1 will teach the children of thy people to know and discern betwixt right and wrong, the good and the evil, and in all things that relate to learning, and knowledge, and understanding. 11 And they proffered unto him a Book ;** and they said unto him, Take thou this, and give us a piece of money, that we may eat and drink, that our souls may live. 12 And we will put words into the Book that shall astonish the children of thy people : and it shall be a light unto thy feet, and a lamp unto thy path ; it shall also bring bread to thy household, and a portion to thy maid- ens. 13 And the man hearkened to their voice, and he took the Book and gave them a piece of money, and they went away rejoicing in heart. And I hea r d a great noise, as if it had been the nois of many chariots, and of horsemen passing upon their horses.ff 14 But after many days they put no words into the Book.^| and the man was astonied and waxed wroth, and he said unto them, What is that you have done unto me, and how shall I answer those to whom I am engaged ? And they said, What is that to us ? see thou to that. * William Blackwood (Ebony), whose then place of business was at 17 Prince's street In 1830 he removed to 45 George street, where Maga continues to be published. M. t Pringle and Cleghorn, the original editors of Blackwood^ Magazine, were "the two 'beasts." Both were deformed in person. They had gone over to Constable, the publisher of the Edinburgh Review, and of the old Scots' Mnyazine, and the satire of the Chaldee MS. was elicited by this defection. In one of Scott's letters, in February, 1818, four months after the Chaldee appeared, he say i : "Blackwood is in rather a bad pickle just now sent to Co- ventry by the trade, as the booksellers call themselves, and all about the parody of the two beasts." M. J The address of the lamb (Pringle) was mild and soft; that of the other, the bear (Cleg- horn), was much the reverse. Both were very lame, and went on crutches. M. 5 Cleghorn, the Bear, was a great agriculturist, and editor of the Farmer's Magazine. M. | Pringle, the Lamb, was a highly educated graduate of the University of Edinburgh. M. ** BlackwoocTs Magazine was " the Book." M. tt When Blackwood accepted their proposal to edit a magazine, their cratches clattered with joy as they retired. M. U They belied their promise and proved incapable. M. XXII HISTORY OF BLACKWOOD S MAGAZINE. 1 5 And the man wist not what for to do : and he called together the friends of his youth, and all those whose heart was as his heart and he entreated them, and they put words into the Book, aud it went forth abroad, and all the world wonderod after the Book,* and after the t\vo beasts that had put such amazing words into the Book. 16 Now in those days, there lived also a man who was craftyf in counsel, and cunning in all manner of working : 17 And I beheld the man, and he was comely and well-favoured, and he had a notable horn in his forehead wherewith he ruled the nations. 18 And I saw the horn.^ that it had eyes, and a mouth speaking great tilings, and it magnified itself even to the Prince of the Host, and it cast down the truth to the ground, and it grew and prospered. 19 And when this man saw the Book, and beheld the things that were in the Book, he was troubled in spirit, and much cast down. 20 And he said unto himself, Why stand I idle here, and why do I not bestir my self? Lo! this Book shall be- come a devouring sword in the hand of mine adversary, and with it will he root up or loosen the horn that is in my forehead, and the hope of my gains shall perish from the face of the earth. 2 1 And he hated the Book, and the two beasts that had put words into the Book, for he judged according to the reports of men; nevertheless, the man was crafty in counsel, and more cun- ning than bis fellows. 22 And he said unto the two beasts.( Come ye aud put your trust under the shadow of my wings, and I will de&troy the man whose name is as ebony, and his Book, 23 And I will tear it in pieces, and cast it out like dung upon the face of the earth. 24 And we will tread him down as the dust of the streets, and trample him under our feet ; and we will break him to pieces, and grind him to powder, and cast him into the brook Kidron. 25 And I will make of you a greal name; and I will place you next to the horn that is in my forehead,** and it shall be a shelter to you in the day of great adversity ; and it shall defend you from the horn of the unicorn and from the might of the Bulls of Ba- shan. 26 And you shall be watchers and guard unto it from the emmet and the spider, and the toad after his kind ; 27 And from the mole that walketh in darkness, and from the blow-fly after his kind, and the canker-worm after his kind, and the maggot after his kind. 28 And by these means you shall wax very great, for the things that are low shall be exalted. 29 And the two beasts gave ear * Blackwood gets assistance from more competent writers. M. t Archibald Constable, the celebrated Edinburgh publisher, had obtained the sobriquet of "The Crafty," several years before it was given to him in the Chaldee MS. The title, which stuck to him, annoyed him very .much the more so, perhaps, as he was fond of conferring nicknames upon others. Murray, the London publisher, he called The Emperor of the Went; he dubbed himself T7ie Czar of Muscovy ; facetious John Ballantyne was Tfie Dey of A It- jeers; and Longman nd about; and I give him such \vork as is meet for him. 40 But if we go forth to the battle, let him not go with us. 41 For behold the griffin hath here- tofore wounded him, and the scorpion hath stung him sorely in the hips and the thighs, and also in the face. 42 Moreover, the eagle of heaven also is his dread, and he is terrified for the flapping of his huge wings, and for his cry, which is like the voice of an unknown tongue, also his talons, which are sharper than any two-edged sword. 43 And if it cometh to pass that he seeth them in the battle, he will not stand, but surely turn back and flee. 44 Therefore let us not take him with us, lest he be for an ensample unto the simple ones. 45 And while he was yet speaking, behold he heard a knocking upon the stair, as if yet another beast had been stirring. 46 And lo, it was even so. 47 And another beast came in,, whose disease was the murrain, who had eyes yet saw not, and whose laughter was like the laughter of them whose life is hidden, and which know not what they do. 48 And I heard a voice cry, Alasl alas ! even as if it were Heu ! hen !f 49 Now the man was sick at heart when he perceived that he was there with the four beasts,^ and he said, Wretched man that I am, who shall deliver me from the weight of beasts which presseth sore upon me ? 50 Then the four beasts waxed very wroth, and they ah 1 began for to cry out against the man which is crafty. 51 And he said, race of beasts, * Scott and Constable long had intimate relations, as author and publisher; but, taking of- fence at some expression of Constable's partner, Scott employed Black wood as his publisher, greatly to the annoyance and loss of "The Crafty." After a time, Constable resumed his rela tions with Scott, and they were continued, until the Panic of 1825 caused Constable's bankrupt- cy and Scott's ruin. M. t Ano'hor Editor of Constable's, whose Christian name was Hugh. M. t I .ire -liable to say who were the two other "beasts" here introduced. M. XXX HI8TOKY OF BLACKWOOD'8 MAGAZINE. be ye still, and keep silence until I consider what shall be done in this matter. 52 And while he spake, it seemed as if he trembled and were afraid of the four beasts and of the staves where- with they skipped. CHAPTER IV. BUT while he was yet trembling, lo, there came in one which was his familiar friend from his youth upwards, who keepeth the books of the scribes, and is hired to expound things which he knoweth not, and collecteth togeth- er the remains of the wise men.* 2 And he opened his mouth and said, Lo, I have come even this hour from the camp of the enemy, and I have spoken with the man whose name is as ebony. 3 And while I was speaking with him kindly, lo, some of the creatures which are within his gates took notice of me, and they warned him. So he put no faith nor trust in me. 4 But take thou good heed to thy- self, for they that are against thee are mighty, and I have seen their num- bers. 5 Now when the man heard this, he waxed yet more fearful. 6 Then there came into his cham- ber another of his friends, one whose nose is like the beak of a bird of prey, whose mouth is foul, and his teeth reach from the right ear even unto the left ;f and he said, For why art thou so cast down ? be of good cheer ; behold I have an old breastplate which I will put on, and go forth with thee unto the battle. I And further, he began to speak of the north, and the great men of the north, even the giants, and the painted folk, but they stopped him, for of his speaking there is no end. 8 Then there came into his chamber a lean man, which hath his dwelling by the great pool to the north of the New City;J 9 Which had been of the familiars of the man in plain apparel while they were yet youths, before he had been tempted of the man which is crafty ; 10 Whose name had gone abroad among the nations on many books, even as his father's name had gone abroad ; II One which delighteth in trees, and fruits, and flowers ; the palm-tree and the olive, the pomegranate and the vine, the fig and the date, the tulip and the lily ; 12 Which had sojourned in far lands, gathering herbs for the chief .position. 13 And he had a rotten melon on his head, after the fashion of an helmet 14 And the man which is crafty be- gan to take courage when his friends were gathered unto him, and he took his trumpet with boldness, and began to blow for them over which he had ' power. 15 But of them which listened to him, their limbs were weak, and their swords blunt, and the strings of their bows were moist. 1 6 Nevertheless he made an assem- blage of them over against the mount of Proclamation ; and these are the names of his host, and the number of his banners, whom he marshalled by the mount of Proclamation the day that he went forth to make war upon the man whose name is as ebony. 17 Now behold the four beasts were * Macvey Napier, Writer of the Signet, Keeper of the Writer's Library: and Editor of ths Edinburgh Review after Jeffrey, and Professor of Conveyancing in the University of Edin- burgh. He also edited the seventh edition of the Encyclopaedia Eritannica. He died in 1847. M. t A writer of some northern ballads and antiquities, now forgotten. M. J This was Mr. Patrick Neill, who lived by Canonmill's Loch, long since drained. M. f He was a printer, and a great arbori- and horti-culturist M. THE CHALDKE MANUSCRIPT. XXX) ; n the first band, yet they trembled, and desired not to be in the iVont of the host. 18 And in the second band was one which teacheth in the schools of the young men, and he was clad in gray garment whereof one-half his wife had weaved.* 19 Also, Samuel, a vain young man, and a simple, which sittetli in the King's Courts, f and is a tool without edge in the hands of the oppressors. 20 Also, John,:): the brother of James, which is a man of low stature, and giveth out merry things, and is a lover of fables from his youth up. 21 Also, James, the young man which eometh out of the west country, which feareth God, and hateth all manner of usury ; who babbleth of many things, and nibbleth the shoe-latchets of the mighty ; one which darkeueth counsel with the multiplying of vain words ; 22 To whose sayings no man taketh heed. 23 And in the third band wcvo a grave man, ever George, the chief of the synagogue, a principal man,|| yea, the leader of the doctors, whose beard reacheth down unto his girdle; 24 And one David, which dwelleth at the corner as thou goest up to the place of the old prison-house, which talketh touching all manner of pic- tures and graven images ;** and he came with a feather on his head. 25 And Andrew the chief physician, and Andrew his son, f f who is a smooth man, and one which handleth all wind instruments, and boweth himself down continually before the horn which \a in the forehead of the man which ia crafty, and worshippeth it. 2(5 With James, the baker of sweet- breads,^ which weareth a green mantle, which mhabiteth the dwelling of the nobles, and delighteth in the tongue of the strange man. 27 And Peter, who raileth at his master. 28 And in the fourth band I saw the face of Samuel, which is a mason, who is clothed in gorgeous apparel, and his face was as the face of the moon shin- ing in the north-west. 29 The number of his bands was four ; and in the first band there were the four beasts, 30 And in the second band there were nine men of war, and in the third six, and in the fourth ten. 31 And the number of the bands was four: and the number of them which were in the bands was twenty and nine; and the man which was crafty commanded them. 32 And the screaming bird sat upon his shoulder. 33 And there followed him many women which know not their right hand from the left, also some cattle. 34 And John the brother of Francis, || * James Gray, one of the masters of the High School, Edinburgh. He was a fine linguist, and a great friend of Hogg's. M. t A cousin of Professor Wilson's, and at this time one of the Crown Counsel. M. J John Ballantyne, brother of James, one of Sir Walter Scott's familiars, and commonly called Eigdumfunnido* by him. M. The author of a pamphlet in defence of usury, and of a reply to Malthus. M. ' The Rev. Dr. George Baird, ther. principal of the University of Edinburgh. M. ** David Bridges, a clothier on the HigL Str3et, Edinburgh, near the prison, connoisseur In the Fine Arts, and owner of many choice pictures. He is duly honored in Peter's Letters to hit Kinxfolk. M. tt The two Andrew Duncans, father and son, were eminent physicians in Edinburgh at ttls Viine. The younger was author or compiler of " The Edinburgn Dispensatory." M. it James Baxter, Esq. M. This was Samuel Anderson, high among the Freemasons of Scotland. He was a wine-mer- < hant, but in Brougham's Chancellorship, received the lucrative appointment of Registrar of tho English Court of Chancery. He figures in "The Nodes," wj one of North's guests. M. II John Jeffrey, yoivgor brother of the critic. M. XXXT1 HISTORY OF BLACKWOOD S MAGAZINE. nnd the mnn which offered Console tiou to the num which is crafty.* 35 Also seven j-oung men, whereof no man could tell by what name they were called, f 36 But when I saw them all gath- ered together, I gaid unto myself, Of a truth the man which is crafty hath many in his host, yet think I that scarcely will these be found sufficient against them which are in the gates of the man yiho is clothed in plain ap- parel. 37 And I thought of the vision of the man which was clothed in dark garments, and of the leopard, and the lynx, and the scorpion, and the eagle, and the great boar of Lebanon, and the griffin ; 38 The stork, and the hyaena, and the beagle, and all the mighty crea- tures which are within the gates of the man in plain apparel. 39 Verily, the man which is crafty shall be defeated, and there shall not escape one to tell of his overthrow. 40 And while 1 was yet speaking, the hosts drew near, and the city was moved ;J and my spirit failed withia me, and I was sore afraid, and I turned to escape away. 4.1 And he that was like unto the messenger of a king, said unto me, Cry. And I said, What shall I cry ? for the day of vengeance is come upon all those that ruled the nations with a rod of iron. 42 And I fled into an inner cham ber to hide myself, and I heard a great tumult, but I wist not what it was. * The Rev. Vm. Gillespie was the author of " Consolation," and other poems, published in 1815. M. t Nobody knew who "the seven yonng men" were. They are often mentioned through the Magazine, and at " The Noctes," but there is no clue to their identity if any. M. $ The Torf&j under Black wood and the Whigs under Constable go together by the e*re. M. in ttie No. L AUGUST, 1819. WE have just returned from the Moors;* and as many erroneous reports of our proceedings must doubtlessly have been put into cir- culation, we do not see how we can do better than fill our last sheet with an account of our shooting excursion. Sir John Sinclair re- marks, that he has a more numerous family than generally falls to the lot of literary men. I Now, though we can boast of no such achievements, being to a man bachelors, yet we really believe that for literati we are most extraordinary shots and we hereby chal- lenge all Scotland for a dinner at Young's, and a hundred pounds to the erection of the National Monument. J Immediately after the publication of our last number, an unusual stir and bustle was observable among the members of our conclave. At our monthly dinner at Ambrose's, the conversation could not be confined within its wonted channel and a continual fire was kept up, blazing away right and left, much to the astonishment of our worthy *The first part of this article, entituled "The true and authentic Account of the Twelfth ol August, 1819," was the concluding paper in No. XXXIX of Blackwood's Magazine. It is cu- rious to find how early Wilson took up the idea (carried out to the last in his " Dies Boreales, or Christopher under Canvas'') of holding colloquies in a Tent. It may be necessary to add, in explanation of a particular day and month being singled out, that by the British game laws, grouse shooting does not commence until the 12th August, partridge shooting on 1st Septem- ber, and pheasant shooting on the 1st October, in each year. M. t Sir John Sinclair, the greatest rural economist, perhaps (because the most practical), that Great Britain can boast of, was partly author and wholly editor of the Statistical Account of Scotland, the most minute account of a kingdom ever published. His writings on agricultural and financial science, extending over sixty years (he died, aged 82, in 1835), were distinguished for theii good sense. His family was numerous thirteen children surviving him. In his Hints on Longevity, he mentions one fact as the result of his inquiries among aged people that whether they went to bed sober or drunk, at early even-tide, or long past the small hours, all the long-lived persons whom he knew, male or female, had invariably been early risers M. t Young s Tavern, in High-street, Edinburgh. The locale was by no means a pleasant one, but most of the young wits of the city, including the Society called the Dilettanti, used to frequent it. The Dilettanti, in 1819, had John Wilson for their president, and among the members were Allan, Schetky, Nicholson and Baxter, artists ; Lockhart, Peter Robertson, now a Scottish Judge, and many more, then in early manhood, who have since attained eminence. Young's was such a small, smoky, dingy place, that it was commonly called ''The Coffin- Hoi*/' Lockhart denounced it, in " Peters' Letters," as " situated in one of the filthiest closes in the city of Edinburgh," where visitors had to " brave with heroic courage the risk of an impure baptism from the neighboring windows." What is called the National Monument glands on Gallon Hill, Edinburgh, and is an unfortunate attempt to imitate the Parthenon of Athens It is unfinished. The part erected consists of thirteen columns, on the west side. each of which cost .fl.UOU. They were put up between 1824 and 1830, and are not defic-ent in pic- turesque grace. The object of the monument was to commemorate those Scotchmen wfco Uad fallen in battle during the war with Napoleon. M. VOL. I. 3 2 CHRISTOPHER IN THE TENT. publisher, who generally graces by his presence these our lunar orgies. Not a word was uttered about "Articles." Don Juan was (for the time) silently sent to the devil* cold water was thrown in a moment on all the Lake Poets and a motion was put from the chair, and carried by acclamation, that the first man who smelt of the shop should undergo a tumbler of salt and small beer. Ambrose was astonished ! ! ! About 'midnight it was decided, that a letter should be written by the editor to Lord Fife,f requesting a week's shooting for himself and the eight principal supporters of Black wood's Magazine, with permis- sion to pitch a Tent on the Twelfth on his Lordship's moors, at the head of the Dee. As from his Lordship's well-known liberality, no doubt could be felt on that score, it was resolved, that we should all meet on the evening of the llth at Braemar, whither our tent and assistants should be sent a day or two previous, that all might be in good order on our arrival. A letter was also written to Dr. Peter Morris of Aberystwith, and Mr. Jarvie, Saltmarket, Glasgow, order- ing their attendance.! For the next fortnight, all was preparation. If a Contribute! showed his face in No. 17, Prince's Street, | it was but for a moment, and " with a short uneasy motion," that proved " he had no business there." Our visits were indeed like those of angels, " few and far between." Before the end of the month, Mr. Wastle entered the. shop, like an apparition, in a pair of old buckskin breeches furbished up Cor the nonce leather gaiters, in which his spindle-shanks looked peculiarly gentlemanly and a jean jacket, with pockets " number without number," and of all sizes the main inside one, like the mouth of a sack, and cunningly intended to stow away roe or the young of the red deer. Tickler was excellent. A man of six feet * The two opening cantos of Don Juan, which did " fright the isle from its propriety," ap- peared in July, Ittl9. Murray, who had purchased them, was afraid to let his name appear on the title-page, as publisher, and only the printer's name (" Thomas Davison, Whitefriars") wa placed thereon. M. t James Duff, Karl of Fife, was a wealthy man in 1819, with vast landed estates, in the Scot- tUh counties of Banff, Moray, and Aberdeen. His principal residence (for he had several, in- cluding two castles) was Duff House, near the town of Banff, only part of which is built, on a plan supplied by Inigo Jones. Lord Fife served with distinction in the Peninsular War, and is a general in the Spanish army, as well as a grandee of Spain. At one time he was on most intimate terms with George IV., to whom he lent vast sums, which have never been repaid The result ofthis, and of extravaeant expenditure on handsome ballet-dancers of the opera- nouse. so nearly ruined him, that Tie had to retire from high life, to place his estates in the hands of trustees (in payment of his debts), and to live on 4,000, which they allow him. The trustees have done several harsh things in his name, one of the most notorious being their illegal caption of the original portrait of Charles the First, painted by Velasquez, at Madrid, in Hi'it, which formerly belonged to the Earl's father, and had been purchased at a sale by Mr. Snare, a bookseller in Reading. The Scottish judges declared that the picture belonged to Mr. Snare, who brought it to New York, in 1S52, where it now is. All through Blackwood Lord Fife is called " The Thane." The source of the Dee (a river famous for its salmon, which runs into tre sea by the city of Aberdeen) is near Mar Lodge, on Lord Fife's property. M. | Dr. Morris was the pseudo- writer of " Peter's Letters to his Kinsfolk" (Lockhart's Satire on the Whigs of Edinburgh and Glasgow), and Mr. Jarvie (a pretended grandson of Biihe Niccl Jarvie, of ' ; Rob Roy") hid written some sarcastic letters to Maga, as if from Glasgow. M. || B:ackwc.-d't hoj>, where Maga was then published. M. TICKLER HOGG ODOIIERTY. 6 and a half looks well in around blue jacket and if to th:it you add a white waistcoat with a red spot a large shirt-ruflle corduroy breeches very short at the knees grey worsted stockings of the sort in Scotland called " rig and fur," and laced quarter boots, you un- questionably have before you the figure of a finished Contributor.* The Ettrick Shepherd condescended to show himself in the shop only once between the 20th of last month and the 6th of August, on which occasion, he was arrayed in white raiment from top to toe his hat being made of partridge feathers, and his shoes of untannod leather. He was accompanied by a couple of very alarming animals, not un- apparently of the canine race one of which commenced an imme- diate attack on an old harmless Advertiser, while the other began rather unadvisedly to worry the Sec tsmanf the consequence of which, as was foreseen, has been hydrophobia, and the brute is now chained up. Mr. Odoherty alone went in his usual way and could not help smiling at the Editor, who came strutting into the front shop as boldly as his rheumatism would permit, with a dog-whip looking out of his pocket, and a call hung round his neck like a boatswain's whistle. J As after a few minutes' confabulation with Ebony, he hob- bled oft' with Daniel's Rural Sports beneath his arm, it is under- stood, that Odoherty applied for his situation, alleging that the man would be for ever spoiled as an editor by the mountain-dew of Brae- mar and that it was indeed the Edinburgh Review to Constable's Magazine, or Lord Bacon to Macvey Napier, that he would not " come to time." But it would be quite endless to describe the ap- pearance of each man in the regiment, before we entered on actual service so suffice it to say, that it is now the evening of the llth of August, and that our arrival is anxiously expected at the Inn of Hraemar. j| William Wastle, of that Ilk (which means " Wastle of Wastte"). was supplying Maga at this time with a satirical and de omnibus rebus poem, called " The Mad Banker of Amster- dam." in the Don Juan metre. In the second of ''Petr's Letters" he is noticed very fully as a living person, with close descriptions of his dress, features, and habits, but was only a creation of the brain one of the many mystifications of Blackwood's Magazine. He is supposed to hare represented Lockhart. Timothy Tickler was an Edinburgh lawyer, named Sym, and was Professor Wilson's maternal uncle. t The Scotsman, then edited by J. R. McCulloch (the political economist and Edinburgh reviewer, who contended that Absenteeism was not injurious to the country whence it dre-w immense rents, inasmuch as it did not matter where the money was spent, so that it was dis- bursed somewhere !) was a newspaper, which was assumed to be the organ of the whig party in Edinburgh. It was hea.vy, but clever, at that time, and much ridiculed in Maga. M. t Ensign and Adjutant Morgan Odoherty was the well-known Dr. William Maginn, who contributed largely to Blackwood. from 1818 to 1830, and from that time to his death, in 1842, was the leading contributor to Eraser's Magazine. He was introduced to the Tent by antici- pation, as he did not visit Scotland until June, 1821. Maginn was one of the most versatile and fertile writers of modern times. M. || Bnuimar is a village in Aberdeen-shire, not far from Loch-na-gar, the mountain celebrated by Byron, in his earliest and his latest poems Hours of Idleness and Don Juan. He describe* il (erroneously) as " the highest mountain, perhaps, in Great Britain," and with eternal snow upon its summit. In 1836- ? 39 I ascended this mountain repeatedly, and saw no snow. On the summit is a spring of ice-cold water. On aclearday, from this height, IU.TV be seen the waters o f '.Le Atlantic on the west, and of the (jerman Ocean on the east. From the source of the Des the ascent is difficult aid tedious ; but so gradual is the sl<-jje from the sr-m-.nit toEraemar that a pcuy can easily ride it. In this manner Queen Victoria, whos-' seat of B&Jmoral is adja- cent, reached the ton of Loch-na-gar, in 1853. M. CHRISTOPHER EN T THE TENT. Notwithstanding our rheumatism, we arrived first at the plaoe of rendezvous, having gone direct to Aberdeen on the top of the mail, and thence, on the dicky of a friend's chariot, to Pannanich Wells, from which we contrived to pad the hoof to Braemar, attended by our old bitch, than which a better never was shot over, but which we now took with us chiefly for companionship-sake. We did not en- cumber ourselves with a gun, trusting to Mr. Kempferhausen being soon knocked up, and being besides, under the necessity, on the twelfth, of looking over our " Contributors' Box," which Mr. Wnstle was good enough to promise to bring in his dog-cart. We had just dined and finished half a mutchkin of whisky-toddy, when, looking out of the window, we beheld beneath us the Ettrick Shepherd, mounted on a tall brown horse with four white feet, and a counte- nance equally so, who, on our throwing up the window, turned up his large wall-eyes, with a placid expression, that showed at once he was a steed quite above starting at trifles. The Poet's dog, some- thing between a Newfoundland and a colley, was not equally pacific but went to work on an old turnspit belonging to the house, which was with difficulty rescued from his jaws. During this temporary disturbance the sound of wheels was heard, and the Shepherd, running to the gabel-end of the house, exclaimed, "A Morris! A Morris!" and there, in good truth, was the worthy Doctor in his shandrydan, with his man John, both looking extremely well, and formidably appointed.* The clock in the kitchen struck six. " Wastle will be here in ten minutes," quoth the Doctor, " if he be a man of his word, as I trow he is." While he spakft the sound of a bugle-horn was heard, and in a few minutes up drove Wastle, in high style, in his dog-cart, tandemwise, and making a sweep round the court, he pulled up at the hall-door to an inch. We want nothing but Tickler and Odoherty, cried the Shepherd ; and, extraordinary as it may seem, it is nevertheless true, that the words were scarcely out of his mouth, when Tickler rose up before us, on a pony under twelve hands, so that he absolutely seemed as if he had been mounted on a velocipede. Behind him came the Standard-bearer, on a white horse, once the property of Marshal Soult, but which fell into the Adju tant's hands on the evening of Albuera's bloody day. He came into the court-yard, side foremost, under the insidious left heel of his heroic master ; and when Odoherty dismounted, it is impossible to tell what life and spirit was struck into the scene and company around from the clanging of his fixed spurs. No symptoms yet of Kempfei hauseu,f Mullion, and Bailie Jarvie, who were to travel to * Dr. Morris's shandrydan was a high t-vo-wheclcd gig, jrawn by a single horse, and wi'h Beat for two persons M. t Kiriipferhauj-en was the name assumed bv a contributor who wrote letters from the Lakes, descriptive of Words worth and Southey. Robert I'earce Gillies, whose poem of Ch.ldo AlhngL* (blamed more attention than saie, in 1&13, *i UK au'uor of H> raj Germanics and Horn. L>] . M. * J'lotty is mailed, or rather burnt port wine, delectable (as a night-cap) in the coM nights of winter. Claret, sc treated, is not a bail substitute, but a double dose of it is requisite. M. t The Linn of Dee is a deep circular cavity in the hard black rock into which the waters fall, from the source, and whirl lound and round a miniature maelstrom. Much ol'Bjron's child- hood was passed close to this, and, while yet a very young boy. he used to lie in the tun, on the steep bank which sloped down to the Linn. On one occasion he rolled down thij slope, to the horror ot the hand-maiden who attended him, and expected to see him killed in "the hell of waters" far below ; but a small shrub caught his dress as he was passing, ,->nd saved him. Tnd shrub remains when I saw it, a tree would have been the better name. M. 6 CHRISTOPHER IN THE TENT. waters of the Dee murmured not twenty yards off and one of those little springs, so pleasant to the Shepherd, welled out from its hillock yet closer to the tent. Here we found that excellent fisher Walter Ritchie from Peebles, and that trusty caddy John Mackay, Frederick Street, Edinburgh, who had escorted the Adjutant's tent, and many et ceteras, in an old baggage-wagon purchased at Jock's Lodge, on the departure of the Enniskillen Dragoons, and made as good as new at the magical coach-yard of Crichton.* With Walter and John we were now ten in number, while the Thane's three kilted gillies and John of Sky,f whom the MIGHTY MINSTREL had kindly sent to enbven our festivities, made precisely the devil's dozen. " Ilaud mora," there was no delay. The shandrydan and dog- cart were emptied in a trice, and we ourselves were particularly anxious to see " The Contributors' Box" safely stowed away among our own furniture. Busy as we all were, each with his own concerns, none of us could help smiling at the Ettrick Shepherd, who imme- diately, on entering the Tent, .had got astride on a pretty corpulent oask of whisky, and was filling a jug on which he had instinctively laid his hands. " It's no canny to sleep here a' nicht for fear of the fairies without sainingj ourselves, so we'll e'en pit round the jug, and pour out a drappoch|| to King Lu !" In a short time the Tent was in fair array while Odoherty proposed that we should see that our pieces were all in good order, and to ascertain their comparative excellence, and the skill of the owners, that we should fire at a mark. We accordingly assembled our forces for that purpose. By some accident or other which will probably never be explained, a copy of the last part of the Transactions of the Royal Society was found lying in the tent. Whether Wastle had brought it in his dog-cart but the thing is inexplicable, so let it pass. The volume was opened by chance somewhere about the middle, and set up at forty yards' distance to be fired at by the contributors. The follow- ing scale will show the result of the trial. * Ritchie has been repeatedly mentioned in Wilson's writings. The caddies are a race peculiar to Edinburgh, coining from the wilds of Lochaber and Braemar, whence the stock ia re-inforced. They are dying out, bat, even as late as twenty years ago, were the only trusted and recognized message- bearers in Auld Reekie knowing every man, woman, and child there. every street, lane, and close, every shop, house, and staircase. Mackay, above mentioned, \a a real personage, and mightily elevated of course, hy this notice in Blackwood. In ;> I'eter's Letters/' Lockhart has done full justice to the c;iddies. M. t John of Sky was a tall and stalwart bag-piper. wh formed one of Scott's household at Abholsford. His name was John Bruce, and attirpd in 'ull Highland costume, he u.scd to play >n the pipes, stalking up and down in front of the house, when Scott gave a set dinner, coininr :n at the close, to receive a qiutigh (or Celtic wooden drinking vessel) of Glenlivet. flora Scott's hand. Saluting the company, he would diink off the contents, about a quarter-pint of strong raw spirit);, at a gulp, without moving a muscle of his face, and resume his out-of-door pibrochs, which he cculinued until after twilight had set in. M. i Dieting ourselves. Dr. Jamieson. || Jte draj'pie -neanx a little drop, it is probable that the Shepherd's drappuih has a like M^nitication. M. SNORING "Wastle Wadding. Hat. Shot. Oz. H Grains put in. 78 Tickler Card. If 65 Unknown. H 65 Hat. If 30 Ettrick Shepherd, Wool. 4 Editor,. . MSS. Article. 2 20 Trial on the 11 th at 40 yardf distance, all shooting with No. 4, at an expanded volume of the Transactions of the Royal Society. Leaves pierced. 40 SO 32 25 90 A veiy remarkable phenomenon, and one well worthy the atten- tion of the Royal Society, was observed on this occasion. While the Jeft hand page, 372, was riddled to pieces, the right hand page did not exhibit a single shot. The cause of this, we who are no philoso- phers are not able to explain ; but such is the fact ; and on the page thus miraculously unhurt, were written the following words, " an Essay on the Scope and Tendency of the Philosophical Writings of Lord Bacon, by Macvey Napier, Esq." Such impenetrable stuff was it proved to be.* By this time it had become rather darkish, and John of the Isles began playing so sleepy an air, that it reminded us of the house of rest. In about an hour we were all fourteen stretched upon our backs with our feel meeting, in the true campaign fashion, in the centre of the tent. The last observation that was uttered came from Dr. Morris, who lamented much that Kempferhausen had not arrived, as the moon would soon rise, and the young poet might have had an opportunity of addressing a sonnet to her in High Dutch. Wastle indistinctly muttered something in reply, for the hand of Morpheus was passing over his mouth. For our own part, we were unable to close an eye, thinking of the Magazine, for, when we left Edinburgh, only two half-sheets had gone to press, and Mr. Blackwood looked unutterable things. While considering what ought to be the opening article, such a noise arose as might have passed in America, for a frog concert. What a snore ! not one of the fourteen noses, Lowland or Highland. Scotch, Irish, or Welsh, lay idle. The sum total was tremendous. By degrees our ears got somewhat accustomed to the sound, and we could distinguish the characteristic snore of every sleeper. Above all the menial and plebeian rhoncus rose the clear silver-nosed trumpet of Tickler, playing its bold reveille there was heard the equable, bat not monotonous, and most gentlemanly snore of W r astle Macvey Xapier. who edited thi Encyclopedia Britannica, and succeeded JeiTrey asconductn: of the Edinburgh Review, in IS'20, was also one of the principxl clerks of the t'coitish Court of fc-ession, and Professor of Conveyancing in Edinburgh University. Hi had perpetrated an 0! tide on Lord Bacon, which the Hlickwood writers greatly ridiculed. Ha was a very decided Whig, which may account lor these Tory sneers. Macvey latterly occupied the house 39 North Cast'e-stroetj Edinburgh, in which Scott lived, fron 17'Ji to July, 1S215, and died in 1*17.- M 8 CHRISTOPHER m THE TENT. Dr. Morris snored in such a manner as he did mock himself, and ever and anon ceased, as if he were listening, and then after a little uncertain sniffling as if tuning his instrument to concert-pitch, broke out again into full possession of his powers Odoherty betrayed a good deal of the nasal brogue of his country, for sleeping or waking the Adjutant is a true Milesian, snoring by fits and starts in a hurried and impassioned manner like a man dreaming of Feuntes D'Onore or Donnybrook Fair* while, from the breast, neck, shoulders, head and nose of the Ettrick Shepherd came a deep, hollow, grunting- growl, like that of the royal tiger, so admirably described by Lady II. in the last number of the Literary and Scientific Journal. When this had lasted for a couple of hours, sometimes one performer lead- ing the band, and sometimes another, we felt that the drum of our ear could bear it no longer so we picked our way out of the tent over limbs of Celt and Saxon, and retired from the concert-room, to hear the music " by distance made more sweet." Nearly half anr'o off, we heard the " Solemn hum, Voice of the desert never dumb," and through its multitudinous murmur were distinctly audible tne majestic base of the author of the above lines, and the pure tenor of Tickler the first resembling a subterranean grumble, and the latter striking on the ear like the sound of iron against rock in a frost. During all this time, the moon was sitting in Heaven, " apparent queen," not with a stoical indifference, as Mr. Southey reports of her on the night after Prince Madoc had defeated the Mexicans, but evidently much pleased with the scene below her both with what she saw and what she heard. We shortly after returned to the Tent ; and "joining at last the general troop of sleep," we no doubt added one instrumental performer more to the grand chorus of this Mus'cal Festival. We do not pretend to conceal the fact, that we felt ourselves carried in a dream to the back shop, the sanctum sanctorum of No. 17 Prince's Street ; and that we never thought Mr. Blackwood so beautiful as in that vision. But just as he had given us a proof to correct, it seemed as if the roof had fallen in and crushed us in the ruins. We awoke and found that Odoherty had fired the morning gun, as a signal. We buckled on our armor in less than no time, und the adjutant was pleased to say, that he had never seen men sharper at an alarm through the whole course of the Peninsular war. " No fear lest breakfast cool" for in ten minutes each man ha J * ' Who e'fir has the luck to se Donnyhrook Fair, An Irishman nil in his ^l"ry IK ther. With his sprig of shl.leiaii and shamrock so green." -M. BETKOSI'ECTION. housed half a pound at least of mutton-ham, and a dash of the dew. Early as the hour was, there was nothing like squeamishness and it must not be omitted, that each Contributor, like a good soldier and good citizen, after an appropriate address by Odoherty, emptied his quech to the health of the Prince Eegent.* Dr. Morris, Wastle, and Odoherty, each attended by a Highland guide, provided for them, as we have said, by the munificence of the Thane, took their departure to the mountains ; the Dr. ascending the pass of the Geonly Water, with a view to the ground towards the head of Glen Tilt, Wastle taking up the glen of the source of the Dee, and the Adjutant meditating a cast or two with our own favorite bitch, over the ground behind Mar-Lodge. Tickler, who had never seen a red Deer, went to the forest with John of the Isles, and small Donald Dim of Invercauld, having, ere he parted, fixed his bayonet at the mouth of the tent. The Ettrick Shepherd, apparently discouraged by his last night's discomfiture in shooting at the Trans- actions, accompanied Walter Ritchie to the Dee, to try for a salmon ; while we ourselves, along with John Mackay, remained at home in the tent, to overhaul the " Contributors' Box," and if necessary, to write a leading article. Our friends were now all gone, and we were left alone in the silence of the morning. Many years had elapsed, since our health had permitted us to be among the mountains, though in our youth, we could have " trodden the bent," with the best man in Scotland. Our heart leapt within us, as we gazed on the sea of mountains, emerging from the soft mists in which they had been shrouded during the night. The wide and sunny silence was like the bright atmosphere of former days. And when the Eagle sailed away on his broad vans, from that magnificent cliff above the Linn of Dee, we recol- lected our own strength, which we once thought nothing could have tamed; and wtrch used to carry us, as on wings, unwearied and exulting, over heights that we could now travel only in the drearn of fancy. Here a twinge of the rheumatism made us sensibly feel the truth of these reflections, and we hobbled into our tent with a sigh , but the comfortable arrangement of the interior, and above all tho jolly cask of whisky, soon awakened us to a sense of the extreme folly of repining retrospection, and we could not help thinking, that the Editor in his camp, had greatly the advantage over his Contribu- tors, now out in all directions on foraging parties, f " George, Prince of Wales, -was Recent, from February, lf.ll, (when the ronfirmed madness of George III., was indisputable), until January, IS'Jfl, when he became King, by succession. \*. t In Peters Letters to his Kinsfolk, we, the Editor, are spoken of as an obscure man, a inartyt to rheumatism, and one who only draws plans, which others execute. That we are not so luminous a body as Dr. Morris, we admit and that we are a martyr to rheumatism, is unfortu- nately true, in spite of the well-known skill of our townsman, Dr. Balfour but we bg leave to contradict the illustrious Physician of Aberystwith on the last charge We both plan and execute and flatter ourselves that there is a something in our articles that betrays th hau 1 10 CHRISTOrHEK IN THE TENT. On opening the Box, it was found to be rich in various matter und we amused ourselves for a couple of hours with an excellent ai ticle on the National Monument one on Bait-Fishing and an- other " on the Mechanism of the Foot and Leg."* While reading the last, we heard the noise of wings, and going to the mouth of the tent, saw a numerous pack of grouse sit down close to the little spring already mentioned. We are no poachers but it must not be expected that a martyr to rheumatism is to be bound by the same rules with sportsmen who have the free use of their limbs. We accordingly took up Hogg's double barrel, and let fly at the pack as they were all sitting together in a snug family-party and before they could recover from their confusion, we repeated the salutation. John Mackay went leisurely forward and returned with five bracft and a half of as fine young birds as might be looked at ^ind the old cock. We maintain that no man is entitled to form an opinion of our conduct in this, who has not suffered under confirmed rheumatism for ten years at least, or, which is as well, under the gout for five.f John Mackay had scarcely got the birds hung up by the legs, when we were considerably alarmed by loud shouts or yells from the river side, which we knew to be from the Shepherd and running down as expeditiously as our knee would permit, we found that the Bard had hooked a Fish. There was he capering along the some- what rugged banks of the Dee, with his hair on end, and his eyes sticking out of his head, holding the butt-end of his rod with both hands in perfect desperation. " Fit statue for the court of fear I" Walter Ritchie ever and anon " his soul-subduing voice applied" close to his ear, instructing him how to act in this unexpected emergency ; and above all things, imploring him to get the better of his fright ! Unluckily the Shepherd's reel-line was too short, so, to prevent the salmon from running it out, he was under the necessity of following him up close at the heels. At every plunge the fish f the Editor. Dr. Morris, who had never teen us when he published his "Letters," has since apologised to us in the handsomest manner, both for his unfounded charge of obscurity and incapacity, but we wish also that the world should know it. We hear that several other persons, equally opaque as ourselves, have taken it grievously to heart, that the Doctor hag overlooked them altogether, and attempt to carry their heads very Aig-A when his name is mentioned. Such persons may be said to belong to the High School. See Gray's Elegy, "And leave the world to darkness and to ine." C. N. These articles actually did appear in the current No. of Black wood. The first strongly urged that the suggested National Monument on Oalton Hill, should consist of a restoration of tlie 1'arlhenon. The second, professedly written by one Peter McFinn, was a graphic account cf a Ashing excursion in Dumfrieshire, with remarks on bait-fishing. The third was a very amusing review of lr. John Cross'* book On the Mechanism and Motions of the Human Lea and Foot. M. f We have been 10 long out of the sporting world that wr. scarcely know what the publii; l.- 'Im,' is on subject* of this kind. We remember an old gentleman long ago. when we hud a ,(ioo::ni> box in Northamptonshire, who always shot hares siti.ng, on the principle that :t wa m i ( lijlcil't to \hoot them in that situation '. Wo despise all such sophUtry. C. N. HOGG AND THE SALMON. 1J made at every rush he took, the Shepherd was fearfully agitated and floundered, stumbled, fell and recovered himself again among the large round slippery stones, in a manner wondrous to behold. For a man of his years, his activity is prodigious. "Look there, Mr. Editor ! There is a LEADING ARTICLE for you !" Scarcely had he spoken, when the fish took a sullen fit, and sinking to the bottom, lay there like a log, " Rolled round in earth's diurnal course With rocks and stones and trees !" The Shepherd seemed truly thankful for this short respite from toil, and helping himself cautiously to a pinch of snuff, handed ovei the mull* to us with that air of courteous generosity observable on such occasions. At length he became desirous of another heat, but the salmon would not budge, and the Shepherd, forgetting how much he stood in awe of the monarch of the flood when he was in motion, began insulting him in the grossest manner in his repose. Finally, he proposed to us to strip and dive down to alarm him, some fifteen or twenty feet a modest proposal to a man of fiftyf an editor and a martyr to the rheumatism. Here the fish darted off like light- ning, and then threw a somerset many feet in the air. Though this was what the Shepherd had wished, it seemed not to be what he had expected, and the rod was twitched out of his grasp, as neatly as at a match of single stick. Walter Ritchie, however, recovered the wea- pon, and returned it to its master yet standing in blank discomfiture. His pride did not allow him to decline it though it was apparent that he would have exchanged situations with Mazeppa or John Gilpin. But why prolong the agitating narrative ? Suffice it to say ; that after a chase of two miles down the Dee, and from an observation of the sun's altitude of two hours' duration, the salmon gave in and came unexpectedly to shore. There, on the green turf, lay salmon and Shepherd, both quite exhausted, and with scarcely any symptoms of life. They reminded us of one of those interesting scenes in Bor- der History, where two gallant foemen lie side by side or like one of those no less interesting scenes in coursing, where greyhound and hare are stretched gasping together on the wold. The Fish gave his last convulsive bound from the sod, and the shepherd, with a faint voice, cried, " take care o' yoursels or he'll lame some o' you" but his fears were groundless, for Waltar Ritchie had already given him * A mull is a Scotch snuff-box, made out of a ram's-horn, polished, and fitted with a cover, offMi embellished with a silver setting, on which is fixed a cairn-gorm, or Scotch topaz. M t At th : s time, the Editor of Blackwood had neither assumed the name of CHRISTOPHER IVtRTH. nor quite decided what his aje should be. A man of 50, in 1813, would have been bora in I7b'9. Subsequently, the year 1751 was given as the actue.i date, which would have made Kit Noiih (58, at the time he and his colleagues were at Braornal. '1'hroughout the " Noctos " ho is represented as in venerable old age, and must have been >4 when they oioseJ, in l*io. M. 12 CHRISTOPHER IN THE TENT. the coup de grare, and holding him up by the gills, pronounced his eulogy with a simple pathos, worthy of better times, " a brave fish ! de'el tak me ginna he binna twenty pun weight !" The first thing the shepherd said, on coming to himself, was, "gude save us, I wou'd gie half a croon for a gill o' whusky !" The sun, however, had dissolved the mountain-dew so we had to return (a distance of nearly three miles) to our tent, within the coolness of whose shadow we knew some of the " tears of the morning" were to be found. On entering the tent, only judge of our surprise when we found Kempferhausen, Mullion, and Jarvie, tearing away tooth and nail at the " Branxy,"* and gulping down the aqua vita; as if it had been small beer ! The swallow of the young German, in particular, was prodigious ; and much must he have astonished the Westmoreland peasantry, when in training to write his celebrated letters from the Lakes. He assured us that he had ate little or nothing for three days, which seemed to us but a partial avowal of the truth, for his present voracity could only have been satisfactorily accounted for on the theory of a fast for three weeks. That excellent actor Jones, in Jeremy Diddler, was a mere joke to him.f Mullion made a masterly meal of it ; while of Jarvie it is sufficient to say, that he upheld the high character of a citizen of Glasgow. We introduced the Shepherd to Kempferhausen and Jarvie (Mullion being an old acquaintance), and nothing could be more amusing than the contrast of the Glasgow and the Hamburgh manner. Jarvie got into such glee, that he abso- lutely began to " trot"| the shepherd round the room ; but James was soon up to him, and played oft* in his turn upon the bailie, assert- ing with meritorious gravity of face, that he had shot the salmon with a single ball, at the distance of half a mile, as he was rashly attempt- ing, with his tail in his mouth, to leap the Linn of Dee. It was now wearing on to two o'clock, and j$ is not to be denied, that though " no that fou," we had got " a drappy in our ee," though * Brainy it the name given to mutton hams made from the sheep that have died of their own accord, or met with some fatal accident among the mountains. It is quite superior to any other, both in flavor and nutriment. It is a perquisite of the shepherds ; and in this instance we had it warranted sound by the head of Lord Fife's pastoral establishment. The best we ever ate was at Dugald Campbell'8, Esq. of Achlian, Argyllshire. C. N. t Richard Jones, commonly called ' Gentleman Jones," was a'great favorite at the Edin- bu-gh theatre, as comedian, and finally settled in London, where he died afew years ago, after having realized a large fortune as a teacher of elocution. M. $To trot means to hoax. It used to be much practised in Glasgow, and also at Bolton, in Lancashire. A famous Bolton trot was the wager with one ' in verdure clad," that he would not pnt one of hi feet into hot water, and keep it therein as long as a certain Boltonian who was present. The trial was made, then and there. Both plunged a stocking-covered leg into a tub of boiling water. The ' Bolton fellow'' appeared entirely unaffected by the increased temperature : tne other instantaneously withdrew his pm, dreadfully scalded, and paid the dozen of wine which he had lost. When the party were on the last bottle, the green yc-.ng gentleman was informed and shown, that it was his opponent's cork leg which had toinj.*-.-j with his own, of flesh and bone. Tins was a thorough trot equivalent to a modern ,M .' to Lancashire, by the way, the inhabitants of certain towns are characteristically designated a* " Liverpool gentlemen, Manchester men, Wigan chaps, and Bolton fellows.'' M. TICKLEK IIOGG ODOHEBTY. 13 it ,vas more owing to the heat of the sun and the salmon-hunt than anything else, that we found any difficulty in preserving our equilib. rium. Kempferhausen and Hogg were prodigiously great, and we overheard the foreigner vowing that he would publish a German translation of the Queen's Wake ; while, in another corner of the Tent, and with the whisky quech placed before us on the Contribu- tors' box, we and Jarvie were " unco kind and couth thegither," and the Bailie solemnly promised us before winter, his article entitled "The devil on Two Sticks, on the Top of the Ram's Horn."* While matters were thus going on, Walter Ritchie came hastily into the Tent, and let us know that " four strange gentlemen" were making the best of their way towards us, over the large stones and loose rocks of a heathery hill behind. In a few minutes he ushered two of them in. They were a brace of smart springals enough, with no small portion of self-assurance and nonchalance. " My name," quoth the tallest, " is Seward of Christchurch, and this is Buller of Brazennose."f We had heard something of Oxford ease and affluence, and indeed reckon more than one Oxonian among our contributors; but without seeing k, we could not have credited the concentration of so much self-satisfaction in any one individual of the species as in this avowed Seward of Christchurch.. " Cursed com- fortable marque", Buller, and plenty of prog ; come, my old boy, tip us n beaker of your stingo." " Pray," replied we, " may I ask which of you is the Brazennose man ?" " Ha ! Buller, to be sure, Buller of Brazennose ! first-class-man, sir devilish clever fellow; allow me to introduce him to you more particularly, sir : This, sir, is Bob Buller of Brazennose first-class-man, sir, both in Litt. Hum. and Class. Phys. their crack-man, sir, since the days of Milman.J But pray, sir, may 1 ask to whom I have the honor of address- ing myself'?" " Why," replied we politely, but with dignity. " Mr. Seward, we are. the veiled Editor of Blackwood's Magazine !" "The veiled Editor of Blackwood's Magazine! By the scythe of Saturn and all that is cutting ! my worthy old cock ! Lend me your feelers, Buller isn't he as like old Gaisford as two pigs ? Mr. Editor, you know Gaisford damned good fellow one of the well booted Greeks." " It is my misfortune, sir, never to have seen Mr Gaisford, but I have a copy of his Hephsestion."|| Here we chanced * The " Ram's Horn*' is the name of a church in Glasgow, from the top of whose spire the Da vtl on Two Sticks would unquestionably have a commanding bird's-eye vie w of that city. .V. t Buller, of Brazennose College, Oxford, was John Hughes, (who really belonged to Oriel,) and author of an Itinerary of the Rhone. He was a great friend of Ainsworth, the novelist, Thomas Ingcldsby (the Rev. Richard Harris Barham. a member of the same college), and The- odore Hook. There was no representative, to my knowledge, of Seward. J When a student at Oxford wins the highest honors, at the degree-examination, in classics and science, he is called " a double first" as conqueror in both. The. late Sir Robert 1'eel wus o distinguished. The Rev. Henry Hart Milman here mentioned, was a Brazennase man. and is now Dean of St. Paul's Cathedral, Lonlon. He has written much in prost and verse chiefly dramatic in the latter, of which his play of " Fazio" is trfe only one on the stage. M. || The Rev. Dr. Thomas Gaisford, Dean of Christchurch, Oxford, since 1831, was appointed gius 1'rol'esooi >i Greek in 1811. M. 14 CHRISTOPHER IN THE TENT. to look around us, and saw the faces of the Shepherd, Mullion, and Jar-vie, close to each other, and all fixed with various expressions of fear, wonder, and astonishment on Mr. Seward of Christchurch . They kept cautiously advancing towards him inch by inch, somewhat in the style of three Arctic Highlanders towards Captain Boss on his supposed descent from the moon ; Jarvie bent down in a crouching attitude, with his hands on his knees, like a frog ready to make a spring ; Mullion, with one fist on his chin, and the other unconsciously clawing his head, while his broad purple face was one gleam or rather '' glower" of curiosity ; and the Shepherd with his noble buck teeth, displayed in all their brown irregularity, like a seer in a fit of second sight. " W hare the deevil cum ye frae 1" quoth the Shepherd. " Ha, ha ! Duller, here is a rum one to go." On this we introduced the Shepherd to the Oxonians, as the author of the Queen's Wake, Pil- grims of the Sun, &c., and in return, with some difficulty explained to him in what part of the globe Oxford stood, and to what purpose it was dedicated, though on this latter point we did not seem to make ourselves very intelligible. " Weel, weel, gentlemen," continued the Shepherd, " I'se warrant your twa big scholars, but hech sers, there's something about you baith that is enough to mak ane split their sides with laughing. Duller o' Brazennose, I ne'er heard the like o' sic an a name as that in a' my born days, except it were the Bullers o' Bu- chan."* Then the Shepherd put his hands to his sides, and burst into a long loud triumphant guffaw. Meanwhile, we had wholly forgotten the other two "strange gentlemen," and found that they were sitting outside the tent. Wastle very politely asked them in ; one was a dapper little felluw, but as pale as death ; and had his left hand wrapt up in a handker chief. The other was tall and lusty, but with a face of vulgar effeminacy, and altogether breathing rather offensively of a large town. " My name is Tims," piteously uttered the small pale dapper young man ; and my two-barrelled gun has cracked, and carried away my little finger, and a ring that was a real diamond. 1 bought it at Eundle and Bridges."! " They calls me Price," said the dandy ; " a nephy of the late Sir Charles Price, that was o' Lunnun ; and I am come down into Scotland here to shoot in these hereabov t parts." * The Bailers of Buchan, in Aberdeenshire, are among the wonders of Scotland. They are near Slaine's Castle, the residence of the Earl of Enrol, and are remarkable for the noise and force with which, at a certain state of the tides, the sea-water is driven up through a sort of well- like cavity in arorlc. When Dr. Johnson was in Scotland, the Bullers especially attracted bin attention. M. t Originally, this Mr. Tims was as much a real character as Wastle or Mullion, but on the appearance, (as a translation from the French of Viscount Victoire de Soligny.) of a tour in England, the wits of Blackwood insisted that their own cockney, Tims, had written it, and ever afterwards, in the ' Noctes," and out of it, spoke of Tims, as " the Wicount Wictoire.' 1 The jewellers, Rundell and Bridges, whom he names, were the leading jewellers in London for many years, (their shop was on Ludgate Hill, near St. Paul's Cathedral,) and the wife of Mr. Rundell was authoress of the famous cooking-book, of which, between 1811 and 1854, u^oul 6ve million copies have been sold. Sir Charles Price was a London banker. M. THE GAME-BAGS. 15 During this explanation, the Oxonians did not deign to look towards the Cockneys, but Seward kept humming " the bold dragoon," and the " first class man both in Litt. Hum. and Class Phys.," whose voice we had not yet heard, was peeping somewhat inquisitively into the quechs, jugs, and bottles, and occasionally applying one or other of them to his mouth, without meeting any suitable return to his ardor. We at length found that the Oxonians and the Cockneys had left the Spittal of Glenshee by sunrise, in two totally distinct parties. But that the geography of so wild a country as Scotland, not being much known either in Oxford or the City, both had got bewildered among the everlasting hills and valleys, till, as their good luck would have it, they had joined forces within half a mile of our Tent. A bumper of whisky gave a slight tinge of red to the cadaverous phiz of Tims ; and Price got quite jaunty, pulling up the collar of his shirt above his ears, which, you may well believe, were none of the shortest. Nothing could be more amusing to us, than the ineffable contempt with which Christchurch and Brazennose regarded Cheapside and Ludgate Hill ; though, to say the truth, the two former seemed just as much out of place as the latter, among the wilds of Braemar ; while, in spite of all we could do, to divert the conversation from such subjects, Seward kept perpetually chattering of Jack Ireland, little Jenkins of Baliol, the Dean, the great Tom of Christchurch, and other literary characters of credit and renown. The Shepherd, eager to put a stop, if possible, to these mystical allusions, requested to see what the gentlemen had got in their bags, and Messrs. Tims and Price silently submitted theirs to the scrutiny. James put his hand boldly in as well he might for the lean sides ol the wallet plainly showed that there was no danger of his being bitten, and it was seen by the expression of his face, on withdrawing his arm, how truly nature abhors a vacuum. Mr. Tims stood on high ground, for he had burst his gun the first fire, and Mr. Price declared, that though in other respects a finished sportsman, he hid never till that day fired a shot. Mr. Seward then called on his man, by the facetious appellation of " Katterfelto," " to bring the spoil," and a knowing knave immediately emptied a huge bag containing two brace of " chirpers" (pouts evidently taken by the hand), and, to the petrifaction of the spectators, an enormous Fox. Tims and Price eyed the animal with intense curiosity, and on hearing its name, the latter declared that though he had now hunted with the Surrey- hounds for six years, he had never caught a view of reynard, and would think his journey to Scotland well repaid by the sight of an animal which he had long given up all hopes of ever beholding on this side of the grave. Seward told him, (it was the first time he had ever deigned to address the Cockney) that he was welcome to 16 CHRISTOPHER IN THE TENT. Mr. Fox, only he begged leave to retain the brush ; and Price leapt at the offer, declaring he would have him stufled, and placed at the winder of his Box at Hampstead. " That's the Captain's lauch," quoth the Shepherd, and forthwith entered Odoherty, picturesquely ornamented with moorfowl, snipes, and flappers, all dangling round his waist, as one might suppose as many scalps round an Indian warrior. His fine features were stained with gunpowder and blood, and Mr. Tims had nearly fainted away " Allow me, gentlemen, to introduce Timothy Tickler, Esq.," said the Standard-bearer, and in a trice he stood before us in all his altitude. His musket, with the bayonet fixed, was in his hand, and over his shoulders hung a young roe which he had slain in the forest. Even Seward of Christchurch, and Duller of Brazennose, stood astounded at the apparition. " By the ghost of Dinah Gray, Buller, there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in Aristotle's philosophy." " There, Mr. Editor," quoth Tickler, " is John Roe Richard Doe has escaped mortally wounded ;" and with that, he threw down the creature at our feet. At that moment was heard the bugle-horn of Wastle ; and by the time " that a man with moderate haste might count a thousand," he and the physician were in the tent. " My dear friend, Dr. Morris !" " What, Buller of Brazennose !" The meeting was most cordial ; but the heat of the tent was quite insupportable, being about 96 of Henry Watson's thermometer so it was proposed by Tickler to adjourn to the antechamber, whose dimensions could not easily have been 1234 taken. We mustered very strong Editor, Wastle, Morris, Tickler, 5678 9 Ki Odoherty, Shepherd, Jarvie, Mulliou, Kempferhausen, Seward of 11 12 13 14 Christchurch, Buller of Brazennose, Tims, Price, John of Sky, Lord 17 18 19 20 Fife's three gillies, Walter Ritchie, John Mackay, Katterfelto, 21 22 26 Buller's valet, the Cockney's Londoner, four Highlanders from the 27 28 Spittal of Glenshee, Peter's man John, Wastle's man Thomas. It was altogether a most animating scene ; and it is incredible in how short a time one kind and genial spirit seemed transferred through so great a body of men. " It's all the world like the cofTee-room o' Glasgow about four o'clock," said Jarvie ; " but, ochone, they'll be no punch none o' Provost Hamilton's best here." John Mackay informed us, that he and his assistants were all at work, and that in an hour and a half dinner would be on the table. " But hae ye killed ony thing, doctor," quoth the Shepherd. Here Peter's man- John, and Walter Ritchie, came forward, dragging several bags ahng ANTE-PRANDIAL. 17 with them, which disembogued a brown flood of grouse, that over- flowed many yards of the sod. Mr. Tims could not believe his eyes, v, hen he saw, counted before them, thirty-seven brace. " There are thirty brace mair o' them," said Watty Ritchie, " scouring for the pan." So much for Wastle and Morris. The whole party now retired to their toilette, and most of us performed our ablutions in the limpid Dee. We, the Contributors, had greatly the advantage over the Oxonians and the Cockneys, whose wardrobe was at the Spittal of Glenshee ; and we could not help observing, that when we ourselves returned to the tent in a full suit of black, little the worse for the gentle wear of three years Sundays, we were looked at with a pleasant surprise, and, if possible, an increased admiration, not only by Tims and Price, but also by Seward of Christchurch, and Buller of'Brazennose. When we all assembled again, furbished and figged up, we made a splendid figure on the mountain-side ; and rarely had the heather waved over a finer body of men since the days of Fingal. It is true, that most of us were too sharp-set fully to enjoy the magnificence of the prospect. Yet it made itself be felt. Many hundred stupendous mountains towered up into the cloud-piled sky over a wide horizon nor was it easy to distinguish earth from heaven as they lay blended together in that sublime confusion. The dark pine-forests of Mar stretched off into the dim and distant day, overshadowing rock and precipice ; and in the blue misty hollows of the hill, we knew that unseen tarns and lakes were lying in their solitary beauty. Scarce visible in the dark blue sky, an eagle was heard yelling in wild and sullen fits ; and when one gazed up to his flight, it was a grand feeling to imagine the boundless expanse of earth, sea, and sky, that must then have been submitted to the ken of the majestic Bird. Our readers will observe, that the above little bit of description is not our own, but copied out of Kempferhausen's journal ; and we think it not so much amiss, considering that it was pencilled under a severe fit of the toothache. One hour in the drawing-room before din- ner is longer than three in the dining-room after it, and this we all ex- perienced, while lying on the greensward before our tent. Even the unwearied wit of Tickler, who lay stretched " many a rood" among the heather, was beginning to lose its charm, when Wastle's man Thomas, a comely varlet about his master's age, advanced with the ceremonious air of a true butler of the old school, and announced that dinner was on the table. Never did thunder follow the lightening so instantaneously, as we all leapt up on this enunciation ; and on looking round, we found ourselves in the chair, supported by Wastle and Morris while Tickler was seated croupier,* supported by Croupier, Yice-chajrmnn. Probably derived from t\ro men riding on a horse, in which ase one must sit on the croup, or loins of theanitnal. i. e. occupy a secondary or infirm position VOL. I..- -4 18 CHKISTOPHEE IN THE TENT. Odoherty and Buller of Brazennose. A principle of the most beautiful adaptation and fitness of parts seemed undesigneclly tc, regulate the seating of the whole party; and we especially observed how finely the High-street face of Seward oi' Christchurch contrasted itself with the Cowgate face of the Shepherd on the one hand, and the Saltmarket one of Jarvie on the other while that of Tims looked quite pale and interesting between the long sallow countenance of Kempferhausen and the broad rubicundity of Mullion. By what magical process the dinner had been cooked we know not ; but a fine cut of salmon lay before the chair ; while Tickler cried, with a loud voice, "Dr. Morris, shall I help you to some roe- soup 1 ?" On the middle of the table, midway between Mullion and Jarvie, was an immense tureen of grouse soup, composed, as Peter's man John declared, with uplifted hands and eyes, of fifteen brace of birds ! Placed at judicious intervals, smoked trenchers of grouse roasted, stewed, and grilled while a haunch of John Doe gave a crown and consummation to a feast fit for the Immortal Gods. The party had just been helped to grouse or roe-soup, when a card ivas handed to the Chairman (we shall henceforth substitute Chair- man in place of Editor) with the single word, A CONTRIBUTOR, writr ten upon it in large characters. We left our seat for an instant to usher in the GREAT UNKNOWN. IT WAS DR. SCOTT, THE CELEBRATED ODONTIST OF GLASGOW.* He was still seated on his famous white trotting pony, with his legs boldly extended in ultra-dragoon fashion from its sides, and his armed heels so much depressed, that his feet stood perfectly perpendicular with elevated toes, and exposed to our gaze those well-known broad and formidable soles which could belong to no other living man but the doctor. On his head was a hat white as snow, and in circumference wide as a fairy-ring on a hill-side his portly frame was shrouded in a light-drab surtout, and his sturdy limbs in trowsers of the purest milled cord, which, by the action of riding, had been worked up to his knees, and considerately suffered the eye to rest on a pair of valuable top-boots spick and span new for the occasion no unworthy successors they to those of the Ettrick Shepherd, now no more. A green silk umbrella was gorgeously ex- panded over the illustrious Odontist, who, having remained a full minute in all his pride of place, that we might have leisure to eon- template the fulness of his perfections, furled his banner in a. stylo worthy of the Adjutant himself; and shouldering it as if he had been serving in the Scotch Eusileers, exclaimed, "You didna ask me to your tent, ye deevil, but here 1 am, in spite of your teeth. I heard o' you at Gordon Castle,t and I hae just come up to keep yc a' ri^ht * This Scott, whom it pleased North to call Doctor, and pass off as a miracle of wit ami learn- ing, waa an obse odontist (or dentist) in Glasgow, eminent for nothing beyond looth-diawmg. except punc!i-drinkinp. < In Aberder nshire. It wa* the scat of the Duke of Gordon ; and WillU, who visited i.t, IMS if :*!-. i -d it in ins Pencilling* by the Way. M. THE SQUAJiASH. 19 and tight, ye nest o' veepers." We assured the Doctor that his honest face was always a welcome contribution to us, and that we had not askei him to join the party, solely from a feeling of compassion to his patients. The doctor's boy now ran up to assist his respected master to dismount, in a livery of blue and red, and a smart cock- ade ; for the doctor had been a soldier in his youth, and performed many signal acts of valor in the green of Glasgow, along with the An- derston Volunteers, when that fine body of operatives were com- manded by the gallant Colonel Geddes, and the invincible Major Cross. " Gentlemen, Dr. Scott from Glasgow," when such a shout arose as can only be described to those not present by its effects. " So far was heard the mighty knell, The stag sprung up upon the fell, Spread his broad nostril to the wind, Listed, before, aside, behind Then couched him down beside the hind And quaked among the mountain fern, To hear that sound," the amusement of all who heard him. In the ' Kjected Addresses." written by Horace and James Smith, there it an excellent patody on one of these compositions. M. CHRISTOPHER IN THE TENT. IT. That woud'rous region was tby own, That home upon the deep To thee were all the secrets known In that dark breast that sleep Thou, while thy form midst heave and toss Had still the billows play been, Perhaps knewest more than Captain Roos, Or yet than Captain Sabine.* III. Yea, Fish ! nor wise alone wast thou, But happy what's far better Ne'er did thy fins to Barrow bow, They feared not Croker's letter But far and wide their strokes they plied Smooth thro' the ocean smoother, Nor drab-clad Gifford chilled their pride, Nor Leslie's buff and blue there.f IV. Ana now, my Beauty ! bold and well Thy pilgrim-course hath been For thou, like Wordsworth's Peter Bell, Hast gazed on Aberdeen ! And all those sweetest banks between, By luvercauld's broad tree, The world of beauty hast thou seen That sleeps upou the Dee. V. There oft in silence clear and bright Thou layest a shadow still, In some green nook where with delight Joined in the mountain-rill, There, 'mid the water's scarce-heard boom, Didst thou float, rise, and sink, While o'er the breathing banks of broom The wild deer came to drink. VI. Vain sparry grot and verdant cave The stranger to detain For thou wast wearied of the wave And loud voice of the main ; And naught tby heart could satisfy But those clear gravelly rills. Where once a young and happy fry Thou danced among the hills ! Captains Ross and Sabine, engaged at this time in trying to discover the northwest pas sate. M. f Barrow and Croker were then officials in the Admiralty at London. Gifibrd edited the Quarterly Review, which has a drab-colored cover, and Leslie was contributing t/> the Edit- burgh, which was clothed in the buff' and blue of the Whigs. M. TICKLER'S SONQ. 25 VII. The rivei roaring down the rock, The fierce and foaming linn, Essayed to stay thee with the shock, The dark and dizzy din With wilier malice nets did twist To perfect thy undoing, But all those dangers hast Ihou miss'd, True to thy destined ruin ! VIII. Sure, no inglorious death is thine ! Death Paid I ? Thou'lt ne'er die, But swim upon a Poet's line Down to Eternity, While, on our board, we'll all allow, ! odd Fish bright and sheen 1 A prime Contributor art thou To BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE ! It was some hours before we could prevail on any of our friends to favor us with another poem or song, naturally so much awed were they all by the splendid efforts of a Hogg and an Odoherty. At last Tickler, to get rid of unceasing importunities from every side, chanted to the bagpipe the following song, which excited one feeling of regret that its length should have been in an inverse ratio to that of the singer. TICKLER'S SONG TO A BROTHER SPORTSMAN AT A DISTANCE. 1. Though I rove through the wilds of majestic Braemar, 'Mid the haunts of the buck and the roe, O ! oft are my thoughts with my dear friends afar, 'Mid the black-cocks of Minnard that go. 2. O sweet upon bonny Loch-Fyne be your weather, As is mine on the banks of the Dee ! And light be your steps o'er Kilberry's braw heather, As on Fife's mine own footsteps can be 1 3. May the scent still lie warm on the heath of Argyle, Thy pointers stand staunch, and unerring thine aim As I bring down the birds right and left why I smile To think that my friend may be doing the same. 4. Jfor your trophies alone is my fancy revealing 1 Well I picture the scores that have bled Long oh ! long ere this hour, round the Jaird's lonely That murderous lair, Caddenhcad ! 26 CHRISTOPHER IN THE TENT. 5. Every shot that we fire, as it peals through the air, I consider a kind of a greeting There is naught of forgetfulness, here, John ! nor there Taste your flask to our blythe winter-meeting 1 Mr. Seward said he had never sung a single stave in his lifo, and called on Buller of Brazennose, to confirm his statement ; but he said, that since the example of simple recitative had been set, he should not hesitate to favor us with a copy of verses which he had written last year for Sir Roger Newdyate's prize subject, the Coliseum. His verses had not indeed gained the prize, but 'flattering testimony had been borne to their merit by his tutor, Mr. Goodenough,* and many other exquisite judges. THE COLISEUM. Ye circling walls, whose melancholy bound, In lonely echoes, whisper all around ! Ye towers antique, whose shapeless shadows tell Of Roman glory the forlorn farewell I Dark o'er the sod with heroes' dust commix'd Ye frown in monumental silence fix'd ! Ah ! could a voice to your faint forms be given By some supernal sympathy of heaven, Deep were the descant of departed years, And marble groans would blend with nature's tears ! The pensive pi'grim bending by the shrine, Where all is mortal, and yet half divine, "Would mix a sigh as plaintive as your own, O'er the dim relics of the splendors gone, Mix with the sobbings of the wind-stirred trees, Whose roots are in th' imperial palaces ! See ! or does fancy, from her fetters freed, With airy visions the fond eyeballs feed Airy, yet bright, as they which lore sublime Drew to the enthusiast of the elder time, In rich redundance of imparted light, All radiant, rushing on the Augur's sight, And mocking with their glare the temple's mystic night Majestic dreams of Rome's primeval day. Oh list and answer ! Oh ! ia 20th of August, 1819. SOLO, BY BOWZY BEELZEBUB. 1. WHEN the vessel she is ready, all her rigging right and steady, And the fine folks arranged on the shore, Then they shove her from the dock with a thunder of a shock, And the ord'uance salutes with a roar ; But before the hausers slip to give sea-room to the ship, To propitiate the winds, tliere is thrown A flask of generous red, all along the bowsprit shed Then God bless her, they cry, and she's gone Grand Chorus of Devils. God bless her God bless her she's gone "With a yo-hee-vo. SOLO, BY TIPSY THAMMUZ. Thus when our latest sheet, to make Ebony complete, Is revised, and thrown off, and stitched in, And the Editor so staunch is preparing for his launch, Then he plunges his hand in the Bin. " Now let every jolly soul lay his ears in the punch bowl, " And be ready," he cries, with a shout * That our enemies may know, when they hear our yo-hee-v* " We'll play hellf with them all when we're out." Grand Chorus of Devils. " We'll play hell, we'll play hell, when we're out With a yo-hee-vo !" At this time Black-wood was printed by Oliver & Boyd. In 1820, it was tofcAsfrrred to James Ballantyne's Office, where it remained for more than thirty years. M. 1 Pope says, of a fashionable preacher, "And never mentions Hell 'fore ears polite." This, we think, is excellent advice, be th to the Clergy and the Laity, even in less refined society: but the reader will bear in mind that this Chorus was written by a devil, and sung by a oaf. h of devils. These local allusions are, therefore, quite in place, and are sanctioned also bv the authority of Milton. C. N. VOL. I. 5 34 CHRISTOPHER IN THE TENT. Well, out came the Magazine, as usual, on the 20th, when, according to Hogg's celebrated sonnet, " One breathless bush expectant reigns from shore to shore." But such is the strong inconsistency of all human desires, that no sooner was the load off our shoulders, than we almost wished it on again, and began to wonder what we should do with ourselves for the next fortnight. It was not mere ennui that beset us, for (since the story will out, it is best we ourselves tell it) during our absence we had suffered a domestic affliction which time may alleviate, but never caK wholly cure. For home had now no charms for us that lofty home once so still and pleasant, fourteen flats nearer heaven than the grovelling ground-floors of ordinary men and commanding a mag- nificent view, not only of the whole New Town of Edinburgh, but o'' the kingdom of Fife in front, to the west far as the towers of Snowdon, and to the east the sail-studded expanse of the noble Frith, and the rich corn-fields of Lothian, " The empire of Edinburgh, to the farthest Bass." Our housekeeper* had eloped with an English Bagman, who had met the honest woman as she was coming home from market with a cou- ple of herrings in a kail-blade, and had been but too successful in filling her imagination with those romantic notions of love and happi- ness which that eloquent and accomplished class of men know so well to instil into the too susceptible heart. The following letter was lying on the little tri-clawed table at which we had so often drunk tea together, and occasionally, perhaps, " sterner stuff," and ours, you may be assured, was not a soul to peruse it without tears. " BEST AND KINDEST OF MASTERS, Several nights before you read this, my fate will have been indissolubly united with that of Mr. Perkins. I am no love-sick girl, sir, of eighteen and though I have known Mr. Perkins only a few days, yet I have not entered rashly into this solemn league and covenant I have observed in him a truly devout and serious spirit, and have no doubt that be will turn out BO as to satisfy all my most anxious desires. Our marriage is a marriage of souls and as our religious principles are to a tittle the same, I trust that, unworthy is we are, some portion of sublunary happiness may be vouchsafed to us. Mr. Perkins, it is true, is some years younger than myself, being about thirty -five, but he looks considerably older than that, and has a sobriety and discretion far beyond bifl years.f I know well that there will be much evil-speaking throughout Scot- * Of this very extraordinary -woman -we shall give a s&oit memoir in an early Number, ac- companied with specimens of her compositions, both in prose and vers*. Her natural talents were great, and her literary attainments by no means contemptible. She was lost to us in the 57th year of her ace, a dangerous time of life to a female of cultivated mind, and rather too strict ideas on the subject of religion C. N. [An unfulfilled promise. M.] t It is an ascertained fact, that although a young man larely, with his own free will, mar- ies an old woman, be she spinster or widow : persons of the female sex are never found to have an antipathy to a marriage with men very much their juniors in age. The fortitude and resig- nation with which an old maid of forty submits to a matrimonial alliance witn a bachelor or widower of twenty-five, are very exemplary. M. GRIZZY TDKNBCTLL 8 ELOPEMENT. 35 land about this matter, and that the public, censorious oil people far my supe- riors in all things, will not spare poor Grizzy Turnbull but my heart knowett its own purity, and the idle gossip of an idle world will soon die away. " And now, my ever dear master, let me confide to you a secret which I havo treasured up in my heart these last twenty years years, alas! of misery and of happiness, never again to return. SINCE THE KIRST NIGHT i SLEPT BENEATH YOUR BOOK i HAVE LOVEI>, MADLY LOVED YOU ! yes, the confession is made on paper at last written over and over again, crossed and recrossed in every possible way, as it long has been, by the trembling hand of passion on my heart of hearts ! ! my sweet master (surely that word may be allowed to me in our parting hour), for twenty years, come the Martinmas term, have I doted upon thee ! yes ! I have watched the progress, of thy rheumatism with feelings which even thine own matchless pen would fail to analyze ! Lord Byron himself could not paint the conflict of passions that turmoiled "within my bosom, when, under the guidance of that angel of a man, Dr. Balfour, I rubbed that dear rheumatic leg on the sofa ! ! our little tea-driukings ! but in the sweet words of Campbell, ' Be hushed, my dark spirit, for wisdom condemns, When the faint and the feeble deplore, Be firm as a rock of the ocean, that stems A thousand wild waves on the shore ! Through the scowl of mischance, and the smile of disdain, Let thy front be unaltered, thy courage elate, YEA, EVEN THE NAME I HAVE WORSHIPPED IN VAIN, Shall awake not a throb of remembrance again ; To bear is to conquer our fate ! ! ! ' "Mr. Perkins must now be all in all to me but though I will cherish him in my bosom, no code of laws, either human or divine, passes sentence of oblivion on vanished hours of innocent enjoyment and be assured, that if I be ever blessed with a family, my second son (for I must call the first after its grandfather) shall bear the Christian and surname of my too, too dear master. But away with de- lightful dreams, never, perhaps, to be realized ! and with such feelings as a new- born infant might avow, I subscribe myself, yours as fit only, " GRACE PERKINS. " \4:th of August, " Written in the dear little blue parlor" Had this unexpected blow fallen upon us during the bustle of win- ter, we could have borne it. But at this solitary season, there was nothing to lighten that load of grief, in the Avords of Michael An- gelo, El importune et grave selma, that absolutely bowed us down to the earth, a grief the more acute, from the sad conviction, that our inestimable Housekeeper had been partly driven into Mrs. Perkins, by a hopeless and therefore undi vulged passion for the Editor of this Magazine. To kill thought and time, we lay in bed till eleven ; then ate some muffins from M'Ewan's, " which did coldly furnish up our breakfast-table," and hobbled down the Mound, witless where to go. All wa's silence and desolation. Not a soul going into the panorama of Algiers ; and the long line of 36 CHRISTOPHER IN THE TENT. Prince's Street, from St. John's chapel to the Prince Regent Bridge,* unbroken, save perhaps by some coach wheeling along its pile of dust-covered outsides. At the corner of some cross street sat some hopeless fruiterer, with her basket of gooseberries, " alas ! all too ripe ;" while perhaps some unl *ck y school-boy, who was drawling his dull holidays in town, hesitatingly eyed the small red hairy circlets, and had the resolution to pass by with his halfpenny in his hand. The linen-blinds shaded the shop-windows, in winter and spring so gorgeously displayed, and not one gay and buzzing insect was seen to enter or issue from the deserted hive. The Middle Shop itself, two little months ago, before our shoes were old m which we went to the moors, " So full of laughing faces and bright eyes," stood empty and silent, save when some summer-stranger from the South came in to ask for a copy of the last Number of Blackwood's Magazine or of Peter's Letters, or when we ourselves hobbled in, and received an unwitnessed greeting from our publisher, whom the well known sound of our foot had brought forth with a pen behind his ear, from the Sanctum Sanctorum. Even in Ambrose's the sound of the grinders was low. The ordinary in Barclay's tavern, at which we have seen thirty pair of knives and forks at play, did well if it exhib ited half-a-dozen mouths ; and the matchless weekly suppers of the Dilettanti at Young's (to which we are sometimes admitted), had, in the heat of the weather, melted quite away. True, the Theatre was open, but it was likewise empty ; and O'Neill, Farren, Abbott, and Jones, sighed, wept, doted, laughed, and whisked about in vain. Would you go down to the sea-side 1 There some solitary bathing machine voided its nudity into the waves, or some parsimonious bachelor sat wiping his hairy length on a stone ; while, perchance, one of the London packets sailed briskly from the pier, and seemed soon to carry away into the dim distance the scanty remains of the population of Edinburgh. In this state of mind, it would have been folly to remain in town ; so we resolved once more to join the Tent, which had now taken root in the Highlands ; and while trying to take courage to buy a ticket in the Perth Breakneck,f we strolled into our favorite snuff and to- bacco shop, and filled our cannister with Princes' mixture and segars. There, while admiring the beautiful arrangements of pipes, boxes, &c., and regarding with a friendly affection the light, airy, and grace- ful figure of the fair Miss Fanny Forman,t we mentally indited the following lines : Localities in Edinburgh. M. fAn appropriate name for a very fast-poing si ape-coach. M. J In a previous number of Maga, a sonnet by Mr. Gillies had celebrated the charms of Misi Forman, who kept a tobacconist's shi v " Prince's-ntreet, Edinburgh M. JOHN BALLANTYXK. 37 LINES TO MISS FANNY FORMAN, ON BIDDING HER FAREWELL. By tlie Veiled EDITOR of Blackwood's Magazine. L OH ! the grass it springs green on the Street of the gay, And the mall 'tis a desolate sight : And the beaux and the belles they are all far away, And the city's a wilderness quite. And I too will wander at dawn of the day I will leave the dull city behind ; I will tread the free hills, and my spirits shall play, As of old, in the spring of the wind. II. Yet, a lowly voice whispers, that, not as of old, Shall to me the glad spirit be given : Tho' the lakes beaming broad in their glens I behold, And the hills soaring blue in the heaven : That the kind hand of Nature in vain shall unfold All her banner of innocent glee For the depths of my soul in despondence are rolled, And her mirth has no music for me. III. Yes, o'er valley and mountain, where'er I may go, That voice whispers sadly and true, I shall bear, lovely Fanny ! my burden of woe Cruel maid my remembrance of you ! As some cloud whose dim fleeces of envious snow, The rays of the evening-star cover, Thy memory still a soft dimness shall throw, O'er the languishing breast of thy lover. While we were casting about in this way whom should we see turning the corner of Hanover-street in an elegant dennet, and at a noble trot, but our excellent friend Mr. John Ballantyne ?* We thought he had still been on the Continent, and have seldom been more gratified than by the unexpected apparition. There he was, as usual, arrayed in the very pink of knowingness grey frock and pebble buttons, Buckskins, top-boots, &c. the whip for Old t brother to James, Scott's printer and confidential friend, and like ed nis luneral, ana said, " l leei as n there would oe less sunsnine lor me irom tnis day lortli. Lockhart says, ' He was a quick, active, intrepid little fellow; and in society so very lively and amusing, so full of fun and merriment: such a thoroughly light-hearted droll, all over quaint- ness and humorous mimicry; and moreover, such a keen and skilful devotee to ail manner of field-sports, from fox-hunting to badger-baling inclusive, that it was no wonder he should havo made a favorable impression on Scott?' And again, li Of his style of story-telling it is sufficient to say that tha late Charles Mathews's 'Old Scotch Lady,' was but an imperfect copy of tbu original, which the great imitator first heard in mv presence from his lips." M. 38 CHRISTOPHER IN THE TENT. Mortality needs no whip dangling from the horn behind and that fine young grew, Dominie Sampson, capering round about him in the madness of his hilarity.* Whenever we met last spring we used to have at least a half-hour's doleful chat on the progress and symp- toms of our respective rheumatisms but Ballantyne no\y cut that topic short in a twinkling, assuring us he had got rid of the plague entirely and, indeed, nobody could look in his merry face without seeing that it was so. We never croak to people that are in sound health and, therefore, not likely to enter into the spirit of our miseries ; so, affecting an air of perfect vigor, we began to talk, in the most pompous manner, about our late exploits in the moors, regretting, at the same time, that Ballantyne had not come home in time to make one of our party on the 12th of August. " We are just off again for Braemar," said we. " The devil you are," said John, " I don't much care to go with you if you'll take me." " By all means, you delight us," said we. "Well," cried he, "what signifies bothering, come along, I'll just call at Trinityf for half a dozen clean shirts and neckcloths, and let's be off." " Done," said we, mounting to the lower cushion, " only just drive us over the way and pick up our portmanteau." No sooner said than done. In less than an hour we found ourselves, with all the cargo on board, scudding away at twelve knots an hour on the Queens-ferry road. During the whole journey to our Tent, we were kept in a state of unflagging enjoyment by the conversation of our companion. Who, indeed, could be dull in immediate juxta-position with so delightful a compound of wit and warm-heartedness 1 We have heard a thou- sand story-tellers, but we do not remember among the whole of them more than one single individual, who can sustain the briefest com- parison with our exquisite bibliopole. Even were he to be as silent as the tomb of the Capulets, the beaming eloquence of that counte- nance alone would be enough to diffuse a spirit of gentle jovialty over all who might come into his presence. We do not think Allan has quite done justice to Mr. Ballantyne's face, in his celebrated master-piece, " Hogg's House-heating." He has caught, indeed, the quaint, sly, archness of the grin, and the light, quick, irresistible glance of the eyes ; but he has omitted entirely that fine cordial suf- fusion of glad, kind, honest, manly mirth, which lends the truest charm to the whole physiognomy, because it reveals the essential * Lockhart says. " His horses were all called after heroes in Scott's poems or novels ; and at this time he nsually rode up to his auction on a tall milk-white hunter, yclept Old Muriality, att< nded by a leash or two of preyhounds, Die Vernon, Jenny l)ennison. - ticians ; and putting it into our hands, said, " Tak a keek at the cal- lans." We did so and Tickler and Odoherty seemed standing by the very nose of Old Mortality. The Sage had a prodigious whisky- bottle in his hand, from which the Adjutant was receiving a bumper with a steady hand and determined countenance; and never saw we any mortal man take "his morning'"' with more relish we almost thought we heard the smack of his lips, as the warm genial fluid de- scended into his penetralia. " Give me a keek," said the Bibliopole. He applied the tube to his ogles ; but just as he had caught a glimpse of Tickler in the act of having the compliment returned by the Stand- ard-bearer, a fine hare sprung up from a bush on the roadside, and after her away scoured Dominie Sampson. Mr. Ballantyne bounced out of the dennet as if he had been discharged from a catapulta, and lighting upon his feet, he joined the pursuit straight up a steap, stony, heathy hill, shouting aloud, " Halloo ! halloo ! halloo !" arid was out of sight in less than no time. We laid the reins on Old Mortality's back, and told him to jog on quietly to the Tent. " God bless you all, our dear Contributors," was all we could say, for our heart was full to behold them again all looking so well, and so happy to see us. When the first burst of congratulation was over, we were espe- cially delighted to see Tims, whom we. again shook cordially by the hand, his little finger being now, he said, quite healed under the care of Drs. Scott and Morris. Tims seemed quite an altered man. He had let his beard grow, that he might have a rural, a pastoral ap- pearance, like the Ettrick Shepherd ; and he was ready to leap out of his skin when we remarked the resemblance. This beard of his consisted of perhaps about one hundred hairs, seemingly very soft and silky, and altogether of a different character from the mustachios 4-t CHRISTOPHER m THE TENT. of the 10th Hussars. " My dear Tims, you are a perfect Aaron." "I h'ant shove since you went away to Scotland," said the little ex- ulting Cockney "neither no more has Pricey." The gentleman designated by this endearing diminutive then caught my eye, and beard enough he had with a vengeance. Price is a big lumbering follow, not soTnuch amiss in the way of good looks; and we do not know how it is, but he always reminds us of that able-bodied barber, who comes lollopping into one's bed-room, of a morning, in the Old Hummums, Covent-Garden, insisting upon the immediate detonsure of you, nolentis volentis. But we had little time to spend upon Mister Price and his whiskers ; for we missed Dr. Scott in the throng, and loudly called for the Odontist. Alas ! he too soon ap- peared, mounted upon his white pony in every respect the same vision that so delighted us some weeks ago. " But, ohon 1 the Doctor's departure is near, Umbrella unfurled, and mounted his gear." " It's a sad thing, Mr. Editor, for freens to part ; but aff I maun gang ; I deliver up the Tent and the Contributors all hale and hearty nto your ain hauns (the Doctor had been Viceroy during our ab- .>ence), see you keep them a' as quate as I hae done. O ! he's a sair rumpawger, that Odoherty, and gude faith, Tickler's but little better. Mr. Duller,* with the brazen nose, is a fine civil, clever, weel-informed laddie ; and I canna say that I dislike that Seward either ; but ye ken u' their characters brawly yoursel' so, fareweel fareweel. O ! Mr. Editor, I'm maist like to greet." We need not say how much affected we ourselves were ; and we wanted words to express our oncern when the Ettrick Shepherd advanced, and proposed a round of genuine Glasgow punch (from a small bowl which he held in his fist) to the health of the worthy Doctor, a safe journey, and a hearty welcome in No. 7, Millar-street. Just as the Doctor had received his glass, the Shepherd threw his plaid over his shoulder, and fixing his honest light grey eyes, swimming in tears, on the departing Odon- tist, he thus gave vent to his own and our feelings in immortal song. L'ENVOY ; AN EXCELLENT NEW SONG IN HONOR OF DR. SCOTT. By the ETTRICK SHEPHERD. TUNE " Grammachree." 1. DRAW water of the coldest draw ye water from the spring, And heaps of snow-white sugar into the china fling, And squeeze the fairest lemon, and pour the richest rum, That our parting mayn't be dry at least, although it may be dumb. L'EKVOY. 4:5 Well consecrate a bumper, and a bumper of the best We'll consecrate a bumper to speed our going guest ; And we'll pour the dear libation, with the tear-drops in our een, For a noble fellow's leaving us, and a nobler ne'er was seen. 3. With right good will we'd keep him we would keep him in our Tent ; But since go he must oh I lightly be his course out owre the bent May his pony's feet be steady, through the heather and the whins, And may ne'er a thorn hae power to jag the hide upon his shins. 4. May that pony ne'er be startled by brackenbush or post May no stravaiging heifer be mistaken for a ghost May no reaver bauds disturb him, though, in crossing of yon hill, He'll perhaps have no objection for to stumble on a still. 5. Oh 1 may the skies be crystal clear above you as you ride, And the sun be shining brightly upon the mountains' side, That the brightness and the beauty may cheer you as ye go, And your heart may dance within you like a young and happy roe 1 May ye ne'er want for good quarters to rest yourself at e'en A bonny lass to stir the fire and a table-cloth fu' clean ; And when ye rise at cock-crow, may that lassie's hand be nigh To reach the stirrup goblet, and sweetly say Good-bye. 1. O blythe be a' your journey, and blythe your coming home, That oft ye may take heart again in the merry hearst to roam ; And whene'er the Doctor's roaming oh! near him may we be, For ineikle can we do without, but not his canty e'e. Meantime, if worth and kindness be beauteous in your eyes, And if genius be a jewel, all with one accord you'll rise : You'll rise, my lads, as I do, and toss your cups with me, To Blessings on the Doctor's head ! with a hearty three times three 1 During the recitation of these noble verses, Dr. Scott occasionally hid his face with his umbrella, and often cast up his eyes to heaven. "Too, too much," he would, sometimes exclaim, in a choked, tremu- lous voice, but when the L'Envoy ceased, he seemed "rapt, in- spired ;" and rising upon his stirrups, and at the same time elevating his umbrella, till the whole man and his accoutrements seemed some- thing more than mortal, he chanted the following hymn : 46 CHKISTOi'lIEK IN THE TENT. DR. SCOTT'S FAREWELL TO BKAEMAR, AIR " Lochaber." 1. FAREWELL, then, ye mountains in mystery piled, Where the birth-place and home of the tempest is luund ; Farewell, ye red torrents all foaming and wild ; Farewell tc your dreamy and desolate sound; And farewell, ye wide plains, where the heath and the fern Bloom in beauty forlorn, while above them is skimming, Far up in the rack, the majestical Earne, To the loue ear of Nature his orison hymning. o. And farewell to thy shadow, thou Queen of Pavillions, Pitched on turf that is smooth as the eider-bird's wing, 'Neath the dais of his splendor, the monarch of millions Might envy the bliss that hath hallowed thy ring 1 What is purple, that floats in the weight of perfume, And the gold-circled mirrors that parasites see, To the rich twilight-breath of the languishing broom, And the pure native crystal of pastoral Dee ? 3. And farewell to the friends that I leave in thy shade, Wit, mirth, and affection exalting their cheer ! Oh ! ne'er shall their forms from my memory fade : Still, whate'er may be absent, my heart shall be here ; Though o'er flood, field, and mountain my wanderings be wide, Back, still back to Braemar faithful fancy shall flee, And the beauty of Kelvin the grandeur of Clyde Shall but deepen my sigh for the banks of the Dee. 4. Yet one cup ere we part, ye dear friends of my bosom 1 One sweet-flowing measure one more only one ! Life's gay moments are few : then why needlessly lose 'em f You'll have plenty of time for regrets when I'm gone. In duluess to meet, and in dryness to part, Suits the barren of feeling, the narrow of soul Be it ours, lads, the gladness, the grief of the heart To improve, to assuage, by the juice of the bowl ! Long did every straining eye follow the Doctor, till the last green gleam of his umbrella faded in the distant woods. "An honester better cleverer fallow 's no in a' Scotland than that very same Doc- tor whom we have lost," said the Shepherd ; with which eulogy we all cordially agreed ; while Buller, turning toward our own person, repeated sonorously from Aristophanes Nt/p* aov cpyov In; , TTJV ro/.T/v ei).ii't>ir, qvarp 'A.vavsafta> aavrov aiti, THE BOLL-CALL. 4:7 Kac /SAraetv avBic TO detvov. ESe aapa^.rjpuv dTiuaei, Ka< /?a/??f TI fj.aWaK.ov, AvOif aipa6ai d" avaynr) Ec"i oaAtv We did not, however, come to the Tent to indulge unavailing sorrow ; so we issued two regimental orders, one for our breakfast and dinner conjoined, without loss of time ; and another for a general muster of Contributors in the Tent after mess, to take into considera- tion the state of the Magazine. There is no occasion to describe the dfjeuncr a. la fourchette ; and after it the Editor hung out his well- known signal "SCOTLAND EXPECTS EVERY MAN TO DO HIS DUTY." We knew that the eyes of our country were upon us, and felt con- fident of the result. On the roll being called by the Adjutant, not a man was missing from his post. The coup cToeil was most imposing. Wastle took his seat at one corner of the table, almost in the open air, in the same full court-dress which attracted so much notice last May when he walked with the Commissioner ; immediately opposite the Laird, Morris sported his black silk stock, and richly-furred sur- tout ;* on the Physician's right hand sat, in earnest confabulation, Buller of Brazennose in his cap and gown, both he and Seward hav ing brought their academical dress down to Scotland to astonish the natives ; between ourselves and Buller sat Mr. Price in the cap, or, as Tims called it, the black silk bonnet of the Surrey hunt, and kept his eyes fixed, with unceasing wonder, on Bailie Jarvie, who, in a full suit of black, with his " three cockit" and gold chain, looked up gashly in our face from the right, and obviously contained within himself the germ or elements of future Dean of Guild and my Lord Provost ot Glasgow; on the Bailie's right shoulder, that is behind it. for he of the Salt-market absolutely turned his back on him of Ludgate, sat Tims, with a strange mixture of self-importance from feeling himself one of the Tent, and of personal fear from being at such an immense distance from the sound of Bow-Bell, which expression of face was not lessened by the consciousness of the immediate contiguity of Tickler, who had stretched as many feet of his legs beneath the table as possible, to bring his head on a line with the organization of the other in-door Contributors ; behind Dr. Morris sat Kempferhausen, who had mounted his Hanseatic Legion cap ; and on his right stood uncovered the jocund Bibliopole, with a face incommunicable both to copper and canvas ; in front sat Seward, with all the gracefulness of a Christ- church man, on a cask of whisky, from which John of Sky ever and anon let off a quech of the dew, unnoticed from behind ; at Seward's In Peters Letters there is a description of this suit (a. deputy-lieutenant's uniform of blue and red,) with the little cross of Dannebrog), and the frontispiece (an imaginary portrait) ihowi 1);. Morns, attired iu a coat with a collar of rich fur. M. 48 CHRISTOPHER IN THE TENT. right hand lay in his plaid the Ettrick Shepherd, his attention wholly absorbed by a large salmon that was floating exhausted to the bank in tow of Wastle's tall valet, who had become quite a prime angler under the tuition of Walter Ritchie ; but we refer the world to the Frontispiece, which was sketched on the spot by Odoherty, the only departure from truth of any great moment, being the introduction of Dr. Scott, whom the literary and scientific world will easily recog- nize in the portly figure smoking a pipe of tobacco on the foreground to the left of the chairman. The affection of the Adjutant could not be satisfied without this tribute to his much-regretted brother bard, and he has introduced his own figure with foraging-cap. &c., reposing close by the side of the Odontist.* When Kempferhausen sat down, after reading an essay on the cha- racter and manners of theTyrolese, we must say, that the feeling up- permost in our mind was one of regret that he should have brought it so speedily to a termination. In looking round the Tent, however, it is not to be denied that we observed some slight symptoms, as if the whole of our friends had not been quite so uniformly and unin- terruptedly delighted as ourselves. In short, Tickler, Odoherty, and the Ettrick Shepherd, manifested pretty plainly, that they thought the Hamburgher was still somewhat subject to his old infirmity of amplification. Wastle and Morris, on the contrary, Jarvie, Mullion, and Buller of Brazennose, were enthusiastic in their applauses of the German's Essay; and, supported by their decision, we could not hesi- tate to express to the Essayist himself, our conviction that his powers were expanding themselves in a manner most luxuriantly promising, and our hope and confidence that henceforth he would form one of the most efficient and vigorous of all our Contributors. The Shep. herd remarked, that " the Essay might be a braw essay for aught he kenned, but he was sure it was an unco lang ane and luik," quoth he, "gin Hector be not shaking himself frae side to side, and yawning and nuzzling as if he had been listening to ane of Mr. R - of Y - 'sf very weariesomest action-sermons. The lad will not be the worse of a glass to weet his whistle ony way." " Gie him a bumper 'This refers to an outline sketch, so indifferent in execution, that we do not think it worth while to have it engraved. In later editions of this numbei of Maga this sketch was not ae ac ogg, an " aith, Jemmy," said he, " hes a fine chiel that Word 's very discreet and well-informed. I really never heard of a horse-couper quotin ore in all my life." It is almost needless to observe, that the excellent minister ha EDINBURGH REVIEW. 49 by all means," quoth Jarvie; "indeed, if he we:e to get his right, he would get mair nor ane, for here's twa or three that have not been dry listeners only look, Mr. Tickler, we've scarcely left enough to fang* anither bowl." "You may make the next one yourself, Bailie," says Tickler, " for it's my turn to be spokesman you know the article goes round the opposite way from the bottle." Then turning to the chair, " Mr. Editor," continued the Senior, " we've got a new Number of the Edinburgh Review since you left us, and, if you please, I shall read a few remarks I have jotted down concern- ing it. I would not have taken so much trouble, only I was surprised to see them holding up their heads so briskly on some points, con sidering what a nailer you gave them so very lately." " Go on, Mr. Tickler," we interrupted ; " you need not hesitate to enter upon any topic from fear of being tedious. As yet nihil quod tetigisti non ornasti; and even here we have no doubt, materiam su- perabit o/ws/" Encouraged by these words, the Sage drew down his spectacles from his forehead, and after clearing his throat with a few portentous hems, he thrust his left hand in his waistcoat pocket, and stretching forth the dexter with its MSS. to within a few inches of ourself, began to read as follows in a distinct voice. The myste- rious music of some of his solemn cadences, seemed at first to alarm and astonish the southern part of his hearers, but the strong sense of the man soon overcame all these lesser emotions, and seldom has even a Tickler been listened to by a more attentive auditory. [Mr. Tickler's comments on an old number of the Edinburgh Re- view so little suit the humor which prevailed in " the Tent," that they are omitted altogether.] Here Tickler ceased, and a low breathing of applause from every auditor around hailed him on the conclusion of his labors. The vete- ran was then invited by Mr. Mullion to refresh himself with a glass of Mrs. Weddel's best cherry brandy from a private bottle, which that worthy produced for the first time on this occasion. Dr. Mor- ris pledged him, and then, with great good humor, made a number of little remarks on the elaborate performance he had just been hear- ing. We ourselves made only one single observation, and it referred entirely to the last sentence of Mr. Tickler's paper, in which allusion is made to the soft sighs breathed by the Edinburgh Reviewers over some of the supposed inconveniences of the present situation of the Ex-Emperor, f Among other things we remarked, the Reviewers seemed to pity Bonaparte very much, because he is restricted from reading their journal in spite, as they would insinuate, of his earnest We believe, that to fang a well signifies to pour into it sufficient liquid to set the pump at work again. C. N. t Napoleon. He did not die until May, 1821. M. VOL. I. 6 50 ciiiasropHEK IN THE TENT. quarterly longings after a participation in that great intellectual ban- quet and indeed they show pretty plainly that they consider this a still more grievous kind of restriction than the short commons to which their hero is supposed to be reduced, in regard to bread, cheese, mutton, garlic, and charenton.* Now it so happens, that we have good reason to know this is a point on which Bonaparte himself is very far from soliciting the sympathies of his admirers. Our ex cellent old friend, Colonel Fehrszen of the 53d, was lately in St. He- lena, on his way to India, and he writes to us, that he paid a visit of several hours' length to the Emperor, with whom, on a previous oc- casion, he had formed a very considerable intimacy. Thinking it might amuse the illustrious captive, the colonel carried a late number of the Edinburgh Review with him to Longwood, and laid it on the table when he was about to take his leave. " Ha /" cried Bonaparte (the Reviewers themselves have remarked with what power this monosyllable expresses the feeling of contempt, when uttered by those imperial lips,) "Ha! guoi done! encore plus de ces brochures, a bleu et a jaune? Je croyois que cette Turlupinade la etoit tumble tout-a-fait il-y-a long temps." Then turning over the leaves, he came upon something about himself, "Peste!" cried he, "Ce petit Jeff re pourquoi fait-il toujours de telles sottises sur mon sujet? Je hais ce Nain envieux II n'entend rien sur les grandes choses ni sur les grands hommes, et voila comme il parle !" A few minutes after- wards, he asked Colonel Fehrszen why he had not rather brought a number or two of Blackwood's Magazine with him ? adding, that he had seldom laughed so heartily as when Mr. Baxterf sent him the Number containing the first part of Odoherty's Memoirs. Our mod- esty prevents us from repeating all that he said in our praise, but we may be pardoned for mentioning the last of the sentences he addressed at this time to the colonel. "Je vous conjure, mon cher colonel, d'ecrire a votre ami M. le Conducteur, qu'il m'envoye ce journal aussi regulierement qu'l soit possible. Pour V Edinburgh Review ma foi ! Us sont culbutes renverses ecrases, abimes Au diable avec ces vieux fripons la! Us ont perdu la tete /" After such a narration as this, we could not do less than propose a bumper to the good health of General Bonaparte}: a toast which was accepted in high glee by the whole of this assemblage ; even the Ettrick Shepherd felt all his old prejudices entirely thawed by the sweet though distant rays of ex-imperial admiration, and chanted an extempore parody on " Tho' he's back be at the wa'," the sentiments of which would not, on reflection, be thoroughly approved by his legitimate understanding. On looking round for the next article^ Said to be the favorite beverage of Napoleon Bonaparte and Timothy Tickler, Esq. C. N t The present surgeon to Sir Hudson Lowe. C. N. } We may add, in excuse of this toast, that Bonaparte hinted to the Colonel lus intention ol being, at no distant date, a contributor to our Miscellanj. C. N. AXD COLEKIDGE. 51 Wastle and Odoherty offered themselves at the same noment to our notice, and we had some difficulty in deciding to which of the two the first hearing should be given. The age and aristocratical dignity of the Laird, on the one side, was met, on no unequal terms, by the manly beauty and transcendant genius of the Adjutant, on the other. Odoherty, indeed, conceded the pas (when he observed the Laird's anxiety) with his accustomed Cortesia Castillana ; but this was only a change of difficulties, for nothing could now prevail on that illus- trious Tenani in capite to accept of the proffered precedence. To put a stop to so much altercation, we were compelled to have recourse once more to our old expedient of skying a copper, the result of which terminated, as usual, in favor of the Standard-bearer. That personage has indeed a wonderful degree of luck in such mat- ters. Never was such an exemplification of the truth of that old text, FORTUNA FA VET FORTiBus. He made use of the silence with which we now surrounded him, by reading, in his usual fine high Tipperary key, a short continuation of that excellent series of his, the Boxiana.* The face of Kempferhausen. during this sporting article, was most excellent. The practice of pugilism was evidently a mystery which his fine speculative understanding could not penetrate, and though few men have more enthusiasm than our good friend Phillip, he could not go along with the profound disquisition and impassioned feeling of the Adjutant on such a theme. He contented himself, however, with a short quotation out of Emmanuel Kant,f who had, it would * The No. read referreJ to the boxing match between Broughton and Slack, in 1759, which ended in the triumph of the latter ; who, after being Champion for ten years, was beaten by a worthy rejoicing in the appellation of Bill Stevens the Nailor. M. t .Mr. Coleridge has somewhere expressed himself to this effect That, if Plato were to rise again from the grave and appear in London, any performer of chemical tricks would be looked on as much the greater man ; and further, that with respect to any discovery, he would have more credit for it who should make it dposterinri, (accidentally perhaps, or by benefit of a fine apparatus) than he who should demonstrate its necessity a priori, (i. e. should deduce itfrom the law which involved it). This remark is well illustrated in the following case : Twenty- six years at least before Dr. Herschel discovered the planet which bears his name (otherwise called the planet Uranus, and in England the Georgian planet), it had been predicted or, to speak more truly, it had been demonstrated by Kant, that a planet would be found in that region of the heavens (i. e. a planet superior to Saturn). The difference between the discov- eries is this : Herschel's was made empirically, or a posteriori, by means of a fine telescope ; Kant's scientifically, or a priori, as a deduction from certain laws which he had established in his Celestial System (HimmeVs System). We have unfortunately not brought with us to Braemar the volume which contains Kant's Himmefs System ; but we will state from memory the course of reasoning which led Kant to this prediction. What is a comet ? It is a planet whose orbit is exceedingly eccentric. Are then the planets not eccentric ? Yes, but much less so. How much less? Some in one degree some in another: their eccentricity varies. Ac- cording to what laws ; or does it vary according to any law ? In general according to this law : the eccentricity has a tendency to increase, as the distance from the sun increases ; that is to say. the planets become more eccentric in their orbits, i. e. more eometary as they approach to that region of the heavens from which the comets descend. Now from this gradual tendency of the planetary motions to become eometary (which tendency, by the way, is itself a neces- sary consequence from Kant's system, and no accident), Kant suspected, that as^nature doe not ordinarily proceed per saltum. the system of planets must pass gradatim into the system of comets and not so abruptly as it would do if Saturn were the last planet. Therefore, said he, at some future period, there will be found at least one planet superior to Saturn whose jrbit will be much more eccentric than that of Saturn, and will thus supply a link to connect the motions of the planets and the comets into a more continuous chain. The comets will (">ruaps vary as much in eccentricity as the planets, and according to the sarao law : so that 52 CHRISTOPHER IN THE TENT. appear, considered pugilism as one of those anomalies in the history of the human mind, inexplicable by the transcendental philosophy, and with hinting, that Randal the Nonpareil could have found no favor in the eyes of the sage of Koningsberg. Odoherty avowed his utter ignorance of all Cant, but was willing to pin his faith on the sleeve of Plato, who, it was well known, was in his day a fighting man of great skill, pluck, and bottom; and who, though desirous of exclud- ing poetry from his republic, recommended an enlightened patronage of pugilism. At the same time, he was very far from thinking, with his quondam friencf, Bill Parnell, knight of the shire for Wicklow (whom he now indignantly disowned), that the Irish people, owing to their ignorance of pugilism, " were base, cowardly, and savage."* The man who could utter such a sentiment is unworthy of Ms pota- toes. " His soul" said the Adjutant, with much animation, " has not the true Irish accent it wants the brogue of his country. I agree with my friend, Lord Norbury,f in thinking ' we are a fine people ' and if I heard Bill Parnell with his own lips say, that ' it is only backed by a mob of his friends that an Irishman will fight] I would not tell him, Mr. Editor, to remember the fine lines of my friend, Tom Moore, When Malachi wore the collar of gold, That he won from the fierce invader but I would call upon him, in the words of a pardonable parody, to thiolc, How Donelly wore the kerchief of blue, That he won from the Deptford gardener.^ W x t last planet and first comet will stand pretty much in the same relation to eac.'i ether as any anet to the next superior planet or as any comet to the next more eccentric comet. - nis was said in the year 1754 at the latest. With respect to the date of Herschel's'discovery, having no Astronomy in our Tent late: than that of David Gregory, the Savilian Professor, (Astron. Phys. et Geomet. Elemental Genevas, 17'26 ) we cannot assign it precisely; but according to our recollection, it was made in 1731 ; and certainly not earlier than 1780. Kant then discovered the planet Uranus a. priori, (that is. he discovered the necessity of such a planet as a consequence of a law previously detected by his own sagacity at least six-and- twenty years before Herschel made the same discovery a posteriori by the excellence of his telescope. - N. B. The reader will perhaps object the case of Mercury and of Mars the first as contradicting the supposed law, the second as imperfectly obeying it (his eccentricity being indeed less than that of the next superior planet, but yet greater than according to his distance from the sun); these exceptions, however, confirm the system of Kant be'.nc explained out of the same law which accounts for the defect in bulk of these two planet?. It iaight have been supposed that Sir Isaac Newton would have been led to the same anticipation as that here ascribed to Kant, by the very terms in which he defines comets, viz. 'genus planetarum in orbibus valde eccentricis circa solem revolventibus " (Princip. lib 3. Prop. 41) : but he was manifestly led away from any such anticipation by the same reasoning which induced him to conclude that no tenable theory could be devised which should assign a mechanical origin to the heavenly system. Kant has framed such a theory, which we shall lay before our readers in a month or two. C. N. Maurice and Berghetta, or the Priest of Rahery ; a tale ; London. 1319. [Written by Parnell. M. ] t The Earl of Norbnry, commonly called the The Hanging Judge, who jested with crimi- nals, on whom he was pronouncing sentence of death. He was Chief Justice of the Common Pleas in Ireland, from 1800 to 1827, and died in 1831. In "Sheil's Sketches of the Irish Bar" bis career, character, and appearance are very fully described. M. An allusion to the great fight between t!ir Dan and Oliver. C. N [Daniel Donelly, an THE SHILELA.H! 53 " What, sir ! would any Irishman who ever sung ' the sprig of ehilelah and shamrock so green,' accuse his countrymen of cowardice? Let me not be misunderstood. I conceive that a duet in a ring at Moulsy-Hurst is pleasanter music than a general chorus at Donny- brook fair. -But that is a cultivated, a scientific taste ; and let no man rashly assert, that the genius and intellect, and moral worth of a people, may not exhibit themselves as strikingly in the shilelah as in the fist, in a GENERAL ROW, as in a LIMITED SET-TO. Is it the part of a coward, Mr. Editor, for one of- the Tipperary lads to step forward and ask the Kerry lads, ' who will snaze ?' and if Roderic Milesius M'Gillicuddy replies, ' / am the boy to snaze in your face,'' is my cousin a coward because the Tipperary shilelahs come twinkling about his nob as thick as grass ]* By the staff" of St. Patrick, a coward has no business there at all ; and what though Mr. M'Gilli- cuddy be backed by a mob of friends, as the county says, has not O'Donnahue his friends too ? and where then is the cowardice of knocking down every Pat you can lay your twig upon, till you your- self go the way of all flesh ? and if ' twenty men should basely fall upon one,' why, to be sure, their turn will come next, and all odds \vill be even. At the close of the day, when the pot-house is full, And mortals the sweets of forgetfulness prove, "When nought in the tap-room is heard but a bull, And ' arrah, be easy 1' comes soft from the grove. " No, Mr. Editor, never may Morgan Odoherty live to see that day when the shilelah shall no longer flourish and be flourished in the Green Isle." Here Mr. Tims softly interposed, and after compli- menting the Standard-bearer on that liberal philosophy, which discerns and knows how to appreciate the genius of a people in their pastimes, without any invidious preference of one or another, volun- teered (if agreeable to the Editor and the Contributors) a song, entitled, " Ye Pugilists of England," which he understood was written Irishman, who teat Oliver, an English pugilist, in a prize fight, returned to Ireland. declaring that the Prince Regent hail knighted him for his prowess, opened a public house in Dublin, was one of his own most bibacious customers, and died soon after this from inflammation, caused by drink. M.] * This is a sweet pas looking and modest yc of an affray. A brok... , ._ , much of the same tender feeling is naturally translerred to tne snuelan tnat innictea it. " God bless your honor," said the same gentle creature to us, while casting a look of affection- iration on our walking-stick (at that time we had no rheumatism). rt you would giva ate adm a swate ttl .ration on our waiKing-sticic (at tnat time we naa no rneumatism;. " you wouia give How with 't." It is in such expressions that we may trace the geniusof a people, aid uld serve to moderate that indignation with which moralists are wont to speak of the ui umtity" of Irish quarrels. In the account of the battle between Randal, a~ J *' i: - ' v - baker. we observed with pleasure, an imitation of this Hibernian amenity. Afl Randal finished the fight by a knock-down facer, the historian (probably our g Eagan), very prettily remarked. " Randal is like a bird on the boughs of a sylvan image ! C. N. Pearce Egan. at this period, editor.of the sporting pap Life in London, and author of several works on pugilism and its history. M. CHRISTOPHER IN THE TENT. either by Mr. Gregson, Mr. Egan, or Mr. Thomas Campbell. This handsome offer was received with thunders of applause, and nothing could be grander than the trio. We remarked, that during the ">de there was not an unclenched fist in the whole Tent. YE PUGILISTS OF ENGLAND. At Sung by Mestr*. Price, Tims, and Woods (Son of the Fighti ij Waterman), on the 4th of September 1819, near the Linn of Dee. 1. YE Pugilists of England,* Who guard your native sod, Whose pluck has braved a thousand years, Crofis-huttock, WOAV, and blood, Your corky canvas sport again, To mill another foe, As you spring, round the ring, While the betters noisy grow ; While the banging rages loud and long, And the betters noisy grow. 2. A Briton needs no poniards No bravos 'long his street His trust is in a strong-roped ring, A square of twenty feet With one-twos from his horny fisto, He floors the coves below, As they crash, on the grass, When the betters noisy grow ; When the banging rages loud and long, And the betters noisy grow. 3. The spirits of prime pugilist* Shall rise at every round ; For the ring it was their field of fame, To them 'tis holy-ground. Where Slack and mighty Belcher fell, Your manly hearts shall glow, As you peel, true as steel, While the betters noisy grow ; While the banging rages loud and long, And the betters noisy grow. 4. The Randal-rag of England Must yet terrific burn, Till Ireland's troublesome knight be beat, And the star of Crib return 1 FufeCamptell'i "Ye Mariners of England." M. CABMEN D1ABOLICUM. 55 Then, then, ye glutton-pugilists, The claret red shall flow, To the fame, of your name, When the uoise of betts is low ; When Sir Dau lies levelled loud and long, And the aoise of betts is low. Mr. Price, whose voice reminded us of Incledon in his best da) a, took the tenor ; Mr. Tims' sweet and shrill pipe was a most exquisite counter-tenor ; and, with the sole exception of Bartleman, we never heard any thing at all comparable to the bass of young Woods.* The accompaniment, too, was exceedingly fine. Wastle blew his bugle affletuoso ; Tickler, who fingers with any man in England, though we confess that his bow-hand is not so free, flowing, and unfettered, as that of Yaniewicz, was powerful on his fiddle ; and John of Sky, on the bagpipe, at one moment, roused the soul to all the triumph of victory, and at another sunk it into the despondency of defeat. At that line, in particular, which the three voices dwelt upon with mournful emphasis, " When Sir Dan lies levelled loud and long," we observed the tear start into Odoherty's eyes, and he veiled them with his foraging-cap, as if wishing to seal his sight from the vision of the conquest of Crib and the downfall of Donelly. We were apprehensive at one time, that the Standard-bearer and Mr. Tims would have quarrelled ; but on the latter assuring Odoherty that he yielded to no man in his admiration of the pluck and prowess of Sir Daniel Donelly, and that he could not be supposed answerable for the prophetic intimations of the poet, the Adjutant extended his hand towards him with his accustomed suavity, and by that pacific overture quieted the incipient alarm of the Cockney. He at the same time offered to back Sir Dan against all Britain, Crib not excepted, for a cool hundred and against Jack Carter, 100 to 80. The best Irish pugilists, continued the Adjutant, " have been Corco ran, Ryan, Odonnel, Doherty, (filius carnalis, we believe, of Morgan's half-uncle, Father Doherty, an Irish priest, who dropt the O for rea- sons best known to himself,) and Donelly" but here we felt it absolutely necessary to interfere, and to request Mr. Wastle to read his article, by way of diverting our thoughts into a different channel. The Laird observed, that he did not feel as if his " Essay on the Study of Physical Science" would sound well after the Boxiana, and therefore would, for the present, content himself with reading a very short paper, on the Scottish Proverbs of Allan Ramsay. * This entertaining and accomplished young fellow is Mr. Tims' body Servant. He is a natural son of the brave Woods, who fought Richmond, the Black, but he is a far better man than his father ; and though he has, we believe, never exhibited publicly in the ring, hU private turn-ups have been numerous, and he has still heW the winner, without a scratch, lie is the only man in England a match for Randal. Will the sporting Culonel back the Nonpareil for 200 ? C. N. 56 CHRISTOPHER IN THE TENT. Just as Mr. Wastle was concluding his acute little article, John Mackay, whom we had dispatched for Braemar to meet the walking postman, returned with a packet of letters and for half an hour the Contributors were busily employed with their contents all except Odoherty, who with perfect sangfroid suffered his three to lie un- opened on the table, or every now and then gave them, one after another, a chuck into the air with singular dexterity, that snowed him to be a perfect adept in legerdemain and slight of hand. On asking our friends if any of their communications were articles for the Mag- azine, the Adjutant replied, that as far as his letters were concerned it was for ourselves to judge one being a dun from Scaife and Wil- lis* another, a short account, he believed, from the keeper of a bil- liard-table and the third, he had some reason to think, was a bill for 25 on the Commercial Bank, which he had sent to a friend to whom he was indebted for that sum, but which, he dared to say, was now returned to him with the well-known words " no effects." All this was said with that gay and careless manner that marks the true man of the world, and the Standard-bearer remarked with a smile, that Messrs. Scaife and Willis, though the best natured and most skilful tail- ors in being, ought not to send accounts to gentlemen whose breeches they had made without pockets capable of holding them, and that therefore he was under the necessity of employing their well-inten- tioned letter in lighting his pipe. Mordecai Mullion then handed over to us the following letter from his brother Hugh, and, with his permission, we read it aloud. MY DEAR MORDECAI : I found all our concerns in a much better way at Glasgow than we could have expected after the late crash ; and I verily believe, that our good friend the Skipper will yet beat to windward of the Gazette. Folks don't look the least shy at our bills, and our credit is good. The Skipper requested me not to press him hard, which God knows never was our intention ; and he will send us six barrels of the best Bunawe salmon, a hogshead of Jamai- ca, 500 Ibs. of double Gloucester, a choice assortment of best West- phalias, and a ton of dried ling : he lets us have them all very low ; and when I have seen them stowed away in our cellars, I shall feel easy about the Skipper. M'Corquindale and M'Clure offered to settle our account at once in cod and craw-fish ; but as we suffered much from our cods last year, and craw-fish is a drug, I demanded Loch-fine herring, and kiplings, and got what I believe will cover us. I had most difficulty of all with that wasp M'Huffie, and had to threaten a horning, f My gentleman came to himself when he found me serious and I saw his reindeers boxed before I left the Gallow- Architects of male attire, in Edinburgh. M. + Jlorring, execution, sale under the law. M. THE KIRK O T SHOTTS. 57 gate ; and finer tongues never pressed a palate. Poor Donald M'Tavish is on his last legs, but I took his debt in branxy, and have no doubt of inflicting it to advantage on our brethren of the Dilet- tanti. That sumph, Rab Roger, offered me a bill on Cornelius Giffen ; I preferred taking him in good Mearns butter ; and he sent me ten croaks of thirty Ibs. each, as yellow as a dandelion. In short, our books will balance, which is more than some of our acquaintances both here and in the west can say, who hold their heads higher than the Mullions. So much for business. And now, my dear Mordecai, let me give you an account of a sort of adventure in which I was en- gaged on my way back from Glasgow. I fear it will lose much in the recital as I have not the pen of a Tickler or an Odoherty ; yet as you requested me to give you the news, I will try to describe the scene just as I saw it acted. I was jogging along on our " bit powney," with my honest father's wallise behind me as usual, when just where the former road takes up the hill to the auld Kirk o' Shotts,* I met a most extraordinary Ca- valcade, which reminded me of Stothard's Picture of the " Procession of Pilgrims to Canterbury,"" so well engraved by our poor friend Cromek et multis aliis. I really felt as if I had slid back many cen- turies, and were coeval with Gower and Chaucer. My surprise was not. diminished, when the leading pilgrim gravely accosted me with, "How do you do, Mr. Hugh Mull ion? When did you hear from your brother Mordecai ?" I pulled up old Runciman, and took a leisurely and scrutinizing observation of the pilgrimage. Before I had time to open my mouth, or rather to shut it again, for I believe it was open the leading pilgrim continued, " I am the Editor of Con- stable and Company's Magazine, and these are my Contributors.! We are going to pitch our Tent near the Kirk o' Shotts, for you must not think, Mr. Hugh, that we are not allowed a vacance as well as Ebony's people. If you are not obliged to be in Edinburgh to- night, will you join us ? I dare say we shall find you useful." 1 declare to you, my dear Mordecai, that the very thought of this pro- cession so convulses me with laughter, even at this hour, that I can write no better a hand than a member of parliament. For, only imagine, the good worthy editor, in half-clerical, half lay attire namely, black breeches, and D. D. boots, black silk waistcoat, pep * Between the cities of Edinburgh and Glasgow, about within sixteen miles of the latter place (travelling by the mail-road, before railways were constructed), the country rises up very high. On the summit of the most dreary ridge stands what is called the Kirk of Shotts (whence the ridge is named), and the little dove-cot belfry rises with peculiar expressiveness, amidst a land of so little promise. Descending the hill, with glimpses of the rich, well-wooded, and Well-watered valley of the Clyde, the road leads into Glasgow, at once, from its commercs and manufactures, the Liverpool and Manchester of the West. M. tBLackwood's Magazine may be said to have fairly laughed Constable's rival Magazine out f existence. Neither publisher, editor, nor contributors could stand the sarcasms perpetually levelled at each and all, from the memorable time when the Chaldee Manuscript attacked them personally. M. 58 CHKISTOPHER m THE TENT. per and salt coat, and shovel hat most admirably constructed for scoop- ing a draught out of a well, mounted on a remarkably fine jackass, who, on being brought to a stand-still, let down his immense head be- tween his fore legs, like the piston of a steam-engine, and then show- ing his alligator-like jaws, gave a yawn in which was gaunted* out a whole month r s sleeplessness. It requires a very peculiar kind of a seat, to look well on ass-back ; long stirrups, and legs nearly if not altogether meeting below ; whereas the Editor sat too far forward upon the shoulder, like Don Olivarez, the Spanish minister, in that famous picture of Velasquez, in our last exhibition. Immediately behind him came our excellent friend, the old German doctor, in a full suit of sables, with spurs on his pumps, according to the ancient- physical school ; and elevated many feet above the editor, on that well-known hack the Paviour, for many years the property of Mr. Campbell, Stabler and Vintner, Canongate. The doctor perspired extremely, and had a Monteith handkerchief hanging over his brows from beneath his hat, which caused him to elevate his chin conside- rably before he could bring his ogles to bear on any inferior object. As he pulled up, a swarm of flies went off with a loud fuz from his veil, and then all settled again upon it, as if the queen-bummer had been inclosed in a crany of the Monteith. I never saw an elderly gentleman seemingly more uncomfortable ; and he could only ex- claim, ' Any thing's better than this ; I wish I were in the Hartz forest.' Scarcely could I believe mine eyes, when they seemed to behold riding together cheek by jowl, and 11 like as twins, no less personages than the Editor of the Edinburgh Review, and 'John the brother of Francis." The former marked my astonishment on perceiving him in such company ; and to divert my ideas, exclaimed, with his usual vivacity, (there is certainly something very pleasant in Jeffrey's smile.) "Ha! Mullion, my good fellow! these were very tasty hams you sent us out to Craigcrook ; as my friend Na- pier would say, I made an essay on the scope and tendency of Bacon : nothing like repeated experiments induction is the most satisfactory of all modes of reasoning. I am surprised the ancients never stum- bled upon it ; though, to tell you the truth, I believe it to be as old as the days of Ham." All this time a very peculiar expression played round the greater Jeffrey's lips, which it would not be fair to call wicked; but which certainly had in it a good deal of malice of a small playful kind. As he glanced his hawk eyes towards the Edi- tor, whose back was turned, because his ass insisted it should be so, he said, in an affectionate tone of voice, " En avant, en avant, my dear coz : I hear the wheels of the mail-coach, give little sturdy a S J)f. Jamieson once more. There it really no doing without the Doctor's Dictionary; but let no man, on any account whatever, buy the Abridgment. C. N. THE SCOTSMAN. 59 touch of Peter Bell." The ass seemed instinctively afraid of Mr Jeffrey's voice, and got under weigh, " With the slow motion of a summer cloud," followed by the PAVIOUR, and the more alert nags of the brother- reviewers, which they had obvious difficulty in reining in, so as to prevent them from passing the Editor. But now a much more formidable Contributor presented /?:'mself, in the person of that perfect gentleman, the SCOTSMAN.* He was mounted on that trying animal, a mule, which had planted his fore- feet considerably in advance, strongly backed by his hind ones, brought up as a corps de reserve to support the first line, so that he was intrenched in a very strong position, from which the cudgel of the infuriated Scotsman in vain banged to dislodge him. It was a fair match between wrath and obstinacy ; and it was impossible to say which would win the day. There were moments in which the mule seemed to lose heart, under the murderous blows of his rider; while at other times, the stubbornness of the wretched creature he so inhumanly be- strode so irritated the Scotsman, that he would frequently hit his own shins with his own cudgel, and then betray his uneasiness by the most dismal gestures. Beside him rode that thickset, vulgar-looking person, somewhat like a Methodist preacher, a good deal marked with the small- pox, and well known among the town council by the name of the Scotsman's FLUNKY| (there is no need to enrich ye with his name) who told him " to remember his infirmity, and not to allow his pas- sion so to get the better of him as to bring on one of his fits." I thought, my dear Mordecai, that the Scotsman's fits had always come on about the same hour on the Saturdays only, but I now found that they are not so regular as to be depended upon, and that he is often overtaken quite unexpectedly, and without any previous intimation. The fit by no means improved his natural beauty and elegance but caused such unaccountable contortion, both of face and person, that the Flunky himself seemed alarmed while Dugald Macalpine, the Pimping Caddy of the Laigh Kirk, who accompanied the procession, was heard to exclaim, " Pure fallow, is this him that wishes to mend the constitution ? I'm sure nae burrugh's half sae rotten as his am breast. Gude saf us, hear how he's flitting on the Lord Provost, wha's worth a dizen sic like Gallowa' stots as himsel. Hush, hush he's now cursan on Mr. Blackwood. Wha's he that Dr. Morris he's * J. R. M'Culloch, afterwards Professor of Political Economy in London University, and now Comptroller of the Government Stationery Office, in London, was editor of the Scntfman newspaper, in 1819, and the constant object of Maga's contempt. He contributed largely to the Edinburgh Review. Although his salary is 1'200 a year, a Whig government -.VRS so lavish as to give also him a pension of 300, and, having solicited it, he was so greedy as to Accept it. M. t Th most opprobrious name, in Scotland, for a body-menial. C. N. CO CHRISTOPHER IN THE TENT. slavering about ? I wush him and sum ither Doctor was but here to gie him a dose of Pheesic. O, sirs ! luk at the red whites o' his e'en, a' rowan' about in his heed ! Hech ! how the tae tail o' his mouth gangs up wi' a swurl to his ee-bree ! What a lang foul tongue's hanging out o' his jaws ! Ach ! siccan a girn ! I doubt he' el ne'er cum about again. It's shurely an awfu' judgment on him, for swearin, and cursan, and damman on ither folk. Hech, sers, but he'll mak a grusome corp !" My attention was luckily diverted from this painful spectacle oy one of the most ludicrous exhibitions you can imagine and one which made me feel the genius of our immortal Shakspeare (I call him ours, Mordecai, for, after our President's famous speech on that great day before the Dilletanti,* Shakspeare belongs exclusively to our society), in bringing together on the same scene the extremes of human wretchedness, and human absurdity. For I looked, and lo ! upon a white horse sat Dr. Searchf and the Dominie ! I knew the horse well, Mordecai ! a fellow of most rare action who had run through many a summer's heat and winter's cold in the Dunbar dilly, but who, having become not a little spavined of late, has degraded from his wonted diligence, though still it would appear a hack " And he now carries who e'er- while but drew." Dr Search occupied the seat nearest the mane and the Dominie sat with a grim and dissatisfied face on the haunches, which, being very high, may be likened to the two-shilling gallery in reference to the boxes. He held desperately with one hand by the crupper, while, with the other, he was ever and anon snatching at the reins, which he could not bear to see in Dr. Search's hand, who, to say the truth, is not so good a horseman as Colonel Quintin by 360 degrees, J The Doctor had a spur, I observed, on his near heel, which, short and blunt as it was, he contrived, by repeated kicks, to indent into the gushets of the Dominie's black worsted stockings so as to fetch blood. The poor pedagogue implored ride and tie, but to the prayer of this equitable petition, such is the charm of precedence, his ear the prac- titioner would not seriously incline and the patient had nothing for it but to submit his leg to the search. They were clothed, " first and last," in black apparel, but the Dunbar hack, who is the oldest horse that ever wore white hairs, seemed to have been rubbed over with " Onr President" of the Dilettanti Society of Edinburgh, in 1819, was John Wilson, the Christopher North of the Nodes. M. t For farther particulars of this learned Theban, see a pamphlet lately published by him, in reply to the aspersions of Dr. Morris on the University if Edinburgh. By-the-by, Ritson tho intiquary was exceedingly wroth with Dr. Percy for saying " See MSS." wht-nsuch MSS. were in the scle possession of the Bishop of Dromore hi.n.self, and perhaps our readers, on attempting to get a sight of this erudite writer, may feel some surprise at our sending on them c, wild-gooso chase. Nevertheless, there is such a pamphlet C. N. t Colotel Sir George Quintin was considered to be the best cavalry officer in the British army at this time. His daughter, an excellent equestrian, instructed Queen Victoria how t " witch the world with noble horsemanship." M. "THE SEVEN YOUNG MEN." 61 some depilatory preparation, and so freely shed " his longs and hig shorts" over the two unfortunate gentlemen, most unjustifiably seated on his back, that they were both in a very hairy condition, and the Dominie indeed was absolutely gray. The spectacle was.not lost on two small boys, who were enjoying the summer vacation of the High School in the country, one of whom, like a little Triton, blew a cow's horn in honor of those mounted deities, and the other clapping an immense rush fool's-cap on his head, spouted, as if reciting for a school-medal, that fine line in Gray's Ode, " Ruin seize thee, ruthless king," while a poor old laborer, who was knapping stones on the road-side, kept his hammer in air, aimed towards the mark at his toe, and seemed to congratulate himself on the appearance of two persons evidently worse off than himself, and in a more hopeless condition. As the " Arcades ambo" ambled by, they were succeeded by a knot of per- sons evidently attached to the procession, whom I soon perceived to be the " Seven Young Men" of the Chaldee MS.* They wore a sort of uniform, of which lean and shrivelled nankeen pantaloons formed the most distinguishing part. These pantaloons had been so fre- quently washed, that they had almost shrunk up into breeches, and indeed, I discovered them to be pantaloons chiefly from the want of buttons below the knees. The seven seemed all to be Knights of the Garter some of them sporting red worsted, but most of them tape. The Editor had obviously distributed to each young man a pair of unbleached thread stockings for the festival, and eke a pair of new shoes, in which, as usual, he showed more genius than judgment, for sorely seemed their feet to be blistered, so that Seven lamer Young Men did not be seen in town or country on a summer's day. Neither did they keep the step properly, but were perpetually treading on each other's kibes, so that they might have been traced along the dry dust of the beaten highway, by the drops of blood that kept oozing from their heels. To keep up their courage, they were all singing pretty much after the fashion of a Dutch concert and I distinctly heard the voice of one of them quavering a sort of profane parody OL a well known English glee, " We are Seven poor Contributors, From garret just set free," so, as Runciman was quite fresh, I helped up several of che Seven Young Men upon his back, and cautioning the foremost and hindermost to take a lesson by Dr. Search and Dominie, and hold -^vel! by the mane and crupper, at the same time quieting the fears of him in the middle by reiterated assurances of his safety, I turned back pretty sharply on foot, and came up with the Editor and his advanced guard, just as they had fixed upon a spot for their encamp- ment. I was grievously disappointed, however, on missing both the Greater and lesser Jeffrey, who had gone on, as I was told, to pay a visit at Hamilton Palace, to their friend Lord Archibald* and who had, good-naturedly, lent the party their countenance as far as the Kirk of Shotts, being resolved to play fair by the Editor. In less than half an hour up came the Seven Young Men, who all in one voice returned me thanks for the use of Runciman, without whom they verily believed they could never have reached the camp. Run- ciman looked at me in a very quisquis sort of a way, as much as to say, " I think nothing of the wallise, but I never bargained for the Contributors." There was some difficulty in getting them all off but by dropping down one at a time behind, Runciman's decks were at last cleared, and he instantly testified his satisfaction, by throwing his heels up in the air, with an agility scarcely to have been expected from a steed of his standing at the bar. Shortly after, the SCOTSMAN and his FLUNKY, and the PIMPING CADDY, arrived the first with those dull, heavy, leaden eyes, and that sallow, cadaverous face, so fearful in one just recovered from the epilepsy of passion. f The Caddy had wished to have carried him back to the Infirmary ; but this proposal roused every feeling in the Flunky's soul, who, you will remember, made a most eloquent speech last year about foul bandages, and stained sheets, and crowded water-closets, and indeed raved beyond all rational Hope. The Scotsman was, therefore, seated on a stone, where he looked like one of those mastei -pieces of ancient art not surely the Apollo Belvidere, nor yet the Antinous but some solitary Satyr, exhausted by a Morris-dance ; and the Editor could only look at him with a true Christian pity, without being able to administer to him the smallest relief. * Lord Archibald Hamilton, brother of the late Duke of Hamilton, -whose principal mansion was in Lanarkshire, in which the Kirk o' Shotts is aUo tituated. When Queen Caroline lame to England, a few months after this. Lady Anne Hamilton (the Puke's sister), was hei principal indeed her only companion of rank. The family were then very liberal in politics which would account for Jeffrey and his brother having sufficient intimacy as to vi-it ..I Hamilton Palace. M. t The Scotsman's fits are certainly of the nature of epilepsy, a disease thus defined : " a con- vulsive motion of the whole body, or soiae of its parts, with a lai, ofsente." C. X THE STOT'S TENT. G3 I now found that the Tent had been sent by the heavy waggon, and had lain all night on the road-side, so that it was in a sad rumpled condition. An attempt was, however, made to put it into som*. decent kind of order ; but just as we were going to hoist it, a sour Cameronian-looking sort of a farmer came up, and sternly declared, that the Tent should not be pitched there to " fley the stirks," calling us, at the same time, a set of " idle stravaiging fallows," and threat- ening to send for A Constable,* at which I observed the Seven Young Men faintly smiled. We accordingly shifted our quarters higher up the hill, and were commencing operations a second time, when a band of shearers, Irish and Highland, were attracted by curiosity to the Tent, and their conversation became so extremely indecent, that no respectable set of Contributors could stand it ; so we broke ground again, and attempted a lodgment close to the Kirk of Shotts. For some time we were greatly annoyed by numbers of black cattle, who returned wheeling and wheeling around us, in the language of Milton, " Sharpening their mooned horns," probably attracted by the " ^alloway Stot ;" but they soon grew weary of looking at us, and finally gave up the Magazine. At last the pole was hoisted, and the canvas displayed, with the words, "CONSTABLE AND COMPANY'S EDINBURGH MAGAZINE," in large letters above the door, surmounted by the whole posse and esse of Beasts.f It was, however, soon but too evident, that not one of the party knew how to pitch a tent of the description ; and there was no getting the pole to stand perpendicular, so that the ropes on one side were a great deal too long, and on the other by much too short. There was no deficiency of wooden pegs, but they were blunt and pointless, and could make no impression on the hard ground of the hill of Shotts, parched and baked as it was by two months' drought. The Dominie exerted himself in vain with his great maul, but he missed the mark much oftener than he hit it, and the pegs committed to his charge seemed the bluntest of the whole set. " I think the tent will stand now," said the Editor, with a dubious face and hesi- tating voice and the Dominie replied, " It is perfectly glorious.'' Perfectly glorious ! thought I why it is more like an empty haggis- bag than anything else and as the old Scotch proverb says, " an empty bag winna stand." The German doctor put his back to the pole, like Sampson carrying the gates of Gaza but as he had shaved that morning, his strength had departed from him, and he was like other Contributors, so he prudently retired from the championship. * The Seven Young Men -would smile at the feeble joke^ inasmuch as A Constable, was proprietor of the Magazine to which they supplied contributions. M. t In the Chaldee Manuscript, the two editors of Constable's Edinburgh Magazine, wer ipokcn of as Beasts, and the same term was applied to the contributors who assisted them. M. 64 CHRISTOPHER IN THE TENT. The pole creaked ominously, and there was a continued starting of wooden pegs but we sat down nevertheless to a sort of lunch, con- sisting of kibbuck* bakes* and small beer with a small allowance of butter to each Contributor, which, I regret to say, was very ran- cid, melted down into a sort of lamp-oil, and thickly interspersed with flies. There was in a hamper a large store of eggs, which had been previously boiled but then they had come several months before from the Isle of Arran, and though few of them were chick- enny, all of them were a great deal worse some black as ink, and others of that yellow peculiar to the pus on a long-neglected wound. " I never smelt anything half so noxious," said the Flunky, " but an ulcer last year on an old woman's knee, in the Infirmary, which had not been allowed half its allowance of rag" but here the Editor mildly stopped the Flunky, reminding him, that the yolk of the Arran eggs was hard enough to bear of itself, without any unnecessary ex- aggerations. Here I very fortunately went to the door for, some how or other, small beer never quite agrees with me and no sooner had I got ''sub dio" than down came CONSTABLE AND COMPANY'S EDINBURGH MAGAZINE about the ears of the Contributors, while such a noise arose " As if the whole inhabitation perished," Soon as the first wild din ceased, I heard the small plaintive voice of Dr. Search exclaiming, as if he had been under the University of Edinburgh, " The whole edifice is in ruins !" The Scotsman was heard growling like a bear with a sore head and the Dominie cried aloud, " The pole, the pole," though certainly the last man in the world likely to reach it. By-and-by the Flunky rose up with a load of canvas on his back, like a week's sheeting of the Infirmary ; and this gave the Contributors an opportunity of escaping from theit thraldom, and of making their appearance through the northwest passage. The Editor and senior Doctor were dug out of the ruins with small symptoms of animation but the Seven Young Men, who had lain down to sleep, escaped with a few inconsiderable bruises. The two Caddies, Pimping Donald and Drunken Dugald, waxed very wroth, and the former burst out, " Tamu her, what ca ye this 1 The Scots Magazeen ? She's na worth a single doit. The bits o' rapes that should haud her up, are a' rotten ae pluff o' wun '11 coup her. We maunna expec' her to staun by hersel' faith, hoist her up as you wull, she'll just aye play "cloit again." It was now obvious to all, that the Editor had taken too high ground, and that if the company's Tent was to be pitched at all, it must be in a situation where it would be less exposed to sudden See Dr. Jamieson. C. N THE STOT'S TENT. 05 fkws of wind. It was accordingly carried by the Caddies, Editor, and the Seven Young Men, down a gentle declivity, with slow and cautious step;;, till at last they reached a deep hollow, where it was pitched with considerable ease, the soil being bare of all vegetation, except a sort of whitish moss, and so soft and moist that the pole slipt in at once, notwithstanding the awkward interference of the Dominie, who, in spite of the Editor's mild remonstrances, maue much needless flustering, and kept running to and fro like a wasp without a sting, very fierce and fudgy. The Magazine was not visible from almost any part of the adjacent country, in this sheltered hol- low and when every thing was properly got up, a glass of small beer was handed round to each Contributor ; but, for the reason already assigned, I civilly begged leave " To kiss the cup, and pass it tothe rest" The scene now became a good deal more cheerful. The little Kirk of Shotts, crowning the hill, made a decent appearance here and there were small scanty spots of oats and barley, that had, how- ever, got all the ripening they were ever to have and small insig- nificant cocks of rushy hay stood pertly enough in various directions. Rather unluckily there was in the Tent a nest of humble bees of that brown irritable sort called " foggies" which were far from being agreeable contributors, and some of them took a violent antip- athy to the Dominie, entangling themselves in his black sleek hair, and thereby sorely aggravating the natural irritability of his temper. A curlew (Scottice whawp) uttered its wild cry from a neighboring marsh, and a lapwing (Scottice pease-weep), afraid that the Edi- tor intended to rob her nest, kept wheeling round and round the tent, and then trundled herself off, with seemingly broken legs and wings, to the strong temptation of Dr. Search, who, getting nettled, made one of his injudicious sallies from the Magazine in chase of her, but came down on his breech in a wet marshy spring, with a squash that was heard in the interior of the Tent, and brought out the Do- minie with a copy of Potter's Translation of ^Eschylus in his dexter hand, to know what had resulted. Dr. Search did not recover his serenity during the whole afternoon, but kept " Pacing about the moors continually," with his hand on the part that was more sinned against than sinning extending the wet cloth a few inches from the skin, and with n rueful face watching the progress of the drying, which, from the low situation of the place affected, and of the Tent; was long and tedious. The Contributors were beginning to bite their nails for want of VOL. I. 7 C6 CHRISTOPHEK IN THE TEST. something to do or think, when the Flunky, who had gone down to the high-road to see the mail-coach pass by, returned with a parcel of letters, all addressed to the Editor, which, being on the public business of Tent or Magazine, were read aloud by him in an agreea- ble, but somewhat mouthing manner. I. DEAR SIR, T am so busy with my discoveries in Asia, that I cannot come to the Kirk of Shotta. Besides, I think there is going to be a change of weather and as I have slept in the Tent formerly, when it was in much better repair than now. I really cannot bring my mind to think of risking my health in it, it being said to have so many chinks. Pitch it in a lone place, and be sure you all sleep together to windward. Youi-s, very sincerely, H. M.* Excise Office, August 28th. II. MY DEAR SIR, My professional duties will prevent me from joining the Mag- azine at present. Beside, you know I have all along been against this scheme of the Tent. It is too obvious an imitation of our good friends in Princes' itreet, and you really ought not, my worthy sir, to steal. from Dr. Morris, and it tlio same time abuse him, as 1 was truly sorry to see you doing in your last Number, Depend upon it, that some confounded Chaldee MS. or other will be coming out to put you all into hot water. I am, my dear sir, yours ever. College Library. IIL SIR, It won't pay. Yours, W. H.f P. S. Reynolds is off. Chapter Coffee-House, London, August IV. DEAR SIR, Gude faith, I maun mind the shop, ma man. Yours, however, The Corner. D. B, Junior.^ * H. M. was intended for Henry Mackenzie, author of The Man of Feeling, Man of the World, Julia de Roubigne, &c. Mr. Pitt made him Comptroller of the Taxes in Scotland, which he held until his death in 1831, at the advanced age of 85. M. , , , cnriors volume entitled Poetical Remains of Peter Corcoran, the said Peter having been an illiterate prize-fighter. Mr. Reynolds followed the profession of the law, which occupied him to much, that for years before his death, (which took place in 1852), he had not written for any periodical. THE SHOOTING MATCH. 67 V. MR. EDITOR. Honorea Sir, I have got a sore head, having been at a Mason Lodge last night. But I will take care to send you the sedoud canto of the Sil- liad, when you come back. I return you many thanks for the guinea. I atu, honored sir, your grateful Contributor, WILLISON GLASS.* Please show the following card to the gentlefolks. Card to the public. An ordinary every lawful day at 2 o'clock cow-heel, tripe, liver, and lighte (and a bottle of small beer between every two), for 6d. Also, on sale a volume of Poems, price 3 s-hilliugs; to which is now added, an appendix, containing the Silliad, Canto I, published in the last Number of Constable and Company's Edin- burgh Magazine. The succeeding Cantos, which I am fast writing for that cele- brated work, will be delivered gratis to the 3 shilling subscribers. Performed by me, WILLISON GLASS. These apologies threw a considerable damp over the Tent, but, in imitation of Odoherty and his companions, it was now proposed to have a shooting match. I had not previously observed any arms or ammunition about the party, who indeed seemed inoffensive and altogether defenceless but drunken Dugald now handed out the weapons, and the match was decided as follows. The Scotsman pulled out of a dirty bag (in which he carried his spare shirt) a copy of Peter's Letters " Aye me ! that e'er green Mona'sf skeely childe, Should draw the breath impure of paynim dungeon vilde P and bellowed out, in a voice like that of an ox with a bull-dog hang, ing by his lips, " Curse him, damn him, blast him ;" but here the. Flunky stept up, and beseeched the " Mull of Galloway" to remem- ber the state he was in only a few hours ago, and that two fits in one day would infallibly carry him off. The three extended volumes of Dr. Morris were accordingly put up at the distance of 20 yard:, forming a line of about 3J feet long and 1 broad. The Editors and Contributors were drawn up en potence by drunken Dugald, who had once served in the sea fencibles, Aberdeen, but a more awkwaid squad I never clapped eyes upon ; and when they came to tiuo " shoulder." some of them threw up their pieces into the right hand, and some into the left, so that there was great confusion, and the Dominie and Dr. Search actually exchanged weapons for a few mo- ments, like Hamlet and Laertes in the play. * Willison Glass, as may be noticed, kept a small inn, the familiar name of -vrhich in Scot- land is " a public." He compounded better punch than poetry the latter being doggerel. M t This quotation from Spenser is very well in Hugh Mullion, for the family of Dr. Morrji came, originally, from Anglesca. C. N. t The sobriquet of authorship under which " Peter's Letters to his Kinsfolk" appeared Th i, ume of the work was probably suggested by Paul's Letters to his Kinsfolk, published in 1815, in which Scott described his visit to Belgium and France, immediately a f ter the f nal downfall of Napoleon M 6-1 CIIKISTOPIIER IN THE TENT. \al on the 25th, at 20 yardx' di*(ancf, all shooting with No. 4 (except the Ssots- nan, who used rush/ nail*, bit* of g/ax.t, mid broken t'/pes), at the expanded three Volumes of Dr. Peter Morris, of Pennharpc Hall Aberi/xlwilh. Edito'- Wadding. Old Sermon. Shot. Oz. J Grains put in. Leaves pierced. 1. Trial, found not to be charged 2. Htiu ' fire 3 Flashed iu the pan 4 W cut off accidentally Gardener's grass. | Dilto. Ditto. Flunky Foul linen. 2i Ditto. Ditto. Ditto. 5 Ditto. Ditto. Dr Search Foolscap. 1 1 Ditto. Domiuie, blunderbuss burst Seven Young Men, pop-gun Title-page of the 1st edit, of Cona. None. 5 ^ Ib. pease. Ditto. 130 Ditto. It was a hopeless effort and one of the Seven wise men (I beg his pardon), one of the Seven Young Men proposed a trial at 10 yards ; but this was objected to by another of them, as the shot would be like one ball. He then proposed to extend the distance to 30 yards, when their pieces would scatter more widely and accordingly Peter's Letters were removed by them to a still higher elevation. But just as Dr. Search was going to fire, his eye caught that of the well-pleased, intelligent physician of Aberystwith, and suddenly shut- ting his eyes very hard, as frightened as a volunteer on a field-day, he let fly, and missed the whole concern by at least twenty yards. Just as the Dominie was going to fire, the honest face of the Ettrick Shepherd guffawed to him from the comely octavo, as if he was laugh- ing to scorn the Tent, and all the helpless creatures about its gates, and the pedagogue's gun, which he had borrowed from the Scotsman, dropped from his hand, Inutile telum. The Editor's turn came next, but just as he was taking aim, the calm, thoughtful, philosophical countenance of Mr. Alison beamed from the book,* and at its Et tu, Brute, the Editor went to the right about, and walked undischarged into the Tent. The Scotsman then took his station, but the recoil of his piece, on the former trial, had swollen his right cheek to an enormous size and ugliness, so that he was constrained to take aim from the left side, and had nearly committed fratricide on O.K- of the stirks grazing in the minister's glebe. The Flunky and others gave up in The Portraits in Peter'* Letter?. M. THE PILGRIMAGE ENDED. 09 despair; and Dr. Morris, invulnerable to the banditti into v'lose hands he nad fallen, was recommitted a prisoner to the Scotsman's dirty bag, from which I hope he will escape ultimately, without either infection or vermin. Il was now beginning to get rather chill in this high situation, and the Shott's shower came drifting by, so we sought shelter in our Tent. But never was anything so uncomfortable. A sort of fire had been kin died in it, and drunken Dugald had been at his pipe so it was filled with smoke, through whose darkness visible frowned at times the un- comely face of the Scotsman. It was also very wet beneath foot ; and how, or on what, we were to pass the night, must have been a trying thought to all of us. It soon began to rain in good earnest, a down- right plumper, and the water came in as through a sieve. I said nothing, but went out and found Runeiman with his haunches pressed close to the leeside of the Tent, imploring shelter. I clapped the saddle and wal- lise on him, and mounted. Never was a horse happier. He set off at a round trot, and I soon got to Mid-Calder, where I shifted, and made myself comfortable over a jug of toddy with the landlord, who had observed the pilgrimage pass by, and felt much for their helpless condition when the storm should come on. I afterwards understood, that a message had been sent from the Tent to the Manse imploring a night's lodging ; but the excellent minister and his lady were from home, and the servant-lasses would not, on any account, admit any but the " Seven Young Men," who looked so cold and innocent that they were taken to the kitchen fireside, and, after a bellyful of butter- milk brose, were shown the door of the barn but the rest passed a plashy night in the Tent. I am frightened to look back at the length of this enormous letter crossed and re-crossed like a field in Spring with the harrow. But you are a good decipherer so, hoping you will pardon all this nonsense, which is at least perfectly good-natured, I am, dear Mordy, your affectionate brother. HUGH MULLION, Provision Warehouse, Grass-market, Sept. 1. Most of us were greatly entertained with this odd letter of Hugh Mullion, though perhaps all its allusions were not understood by more than two or three of the party, of which number we frankly confess thai we ourselves were not. To Seward and Buller it seemed wholly unintelligible, though they both continued listening to the broad patois of Mordy with most laudable perseverance ; the first occasionally exclaiming, " Cursed witty, 'pon my soul, you Scotch people, if a Christian could comprehend ye ;" and the latter as doggedly attentive as a man to a sermon in the incipient stage of drowsiness ; while Price and Tims, who seejned quite alarmed at the mystery, took an opportunity of" going out of the Tent, with the 70 CHRISTOPHER IN THE TENT. avowed design of bathing Randal and Flash in the Dee, these tvo tykes for some time having sorely interrupted the letter-reader by tnat desperate snuzzling of mouth and nostril which accompanies an unsuccessful flea-hunt. But though the Oxonians were not initiated into these mysteries of the Cabiri, they were highly delighted with the spirited sketch of the pilgrimage and Duller, who, with all his gravity and taciturnity, is evidently a wag in his way, put himself into an attitude, when sitting behind Seward on the head of the whis- ky-cask, most ludicrously imitative of the Dominie, " Alike but, oh 1 how different." " Pray, Mordy," said Dr. Morris, " have you in good faith a bro- ther called Hugh, or is this letter all a quiz ?" " It is exceedingly good to hear you talk of quizzing," replied Mordecai " but do you know, Doctor, that many people in Edinburgh maintain that you even you yourself are a fictitious character altogether, and that John Watson's picture is not a copy of, but absolutely the original and only Dr. Morris. You are a mere man of canvas, Doctor, and that pawky face and skeely skull of yours, so like flesh, blood, and bone, is, I am credibly informed, nothing but a mixture of oil-colors, and that you were begotten, carried forward, born and bred, all in about three sittings." Dr. Morris, who is much given to laugh at others, was somewhat disconcerted by this attack on his very exist- ence, and Tickler recommended him to institute a prosecution against those who absolutely were attempting to deprive him, not of the means of subsistence, for that was a mere trifle, but of a body to be subsisted. " If," continued Tickler, " you be indeed a fictitious cha- racter, you are the most skilful imitation of a human being that I ever met with in daylight. You think nothing of eating a brace of grouse and a pound of branxy to your breakfast indeed, always saving and excepting our Editor, I will back you to eat against the whole Tent and as for the mountain dew, ye sip it like a second Ettrick Shep- herd. Come, tell us frankly at once, are you, or are you not, a ficti- tious character ?" Hogg chuckled to hear his friend Morris roasted ; " for," quoth he, " Pate is aye playing off his tricks on me and my fiznomie ; and though I'm as good-natured a chield as maist folks, deil tak me gin I dinna turn about some day on him and some mair o' you daft blades, and try gin I canna write a Chaldee MS. Gray was doing a' he could to put me up to it a gay while syne, but gin I do't at a' I'll do't o' mysell, and no for nane o' his gab for he's just gaen a' hyte thegither, 'cause Dr. Morris there didna clap him in amang the leeterawti." Dr. Morris had by this time recovered himself, and he observed, that on a question of this nature he could scarcely be admitted as a witness, still less as a judge. Yet he must be allowed to say, that the charge of nonentity brought against him was far from SCRIBBLE'S EPISTLE. 71 being handsort.e in the Whigs of Edinburgh, to whose existence he had not scrupled to bear the most honorable testimony. " Pray," added the Doctor, " is Mr. Jeffrey a fictitious character 1 Is Pro- fessor Leslie a fictitious character ? Nay, to come nearer home, is Mr. Wast-le here a fictitious character ? I am confident that every candid person will at once reply in the negative. Why, therefore, not admit me to the same privilege ? " Though fame I slight, nor for her favors call, I come in person, if I come at all." The point being at last conceded to the eloquent physician, Mr. Seward rose from the cask with his usual grace, and threw over to us a letter, written in a large gnostic sprawling hand, on massy hot- pressed paper, and enclosed in a franked envelope, with a splash of wax as broad as a china saucer, which he said we were at liberty to read, now that the Cockneys were hunting the Naiads, swearing us at the same time to silence, as from the irascible temper of Tims, who had lately been within an ace of swallowing the Standard-bearer, iie could not hope to return to his rooms in Peck-water,* were that illustrious Luddite to discover the nature of his correspondence with old Scribble. TO HARRY SEWARD, ESQ. Bedford Coffee-House, Sept. 1, 1819. I PITY you sincerely, my dear friend, amongst those Scottish sav- ages. You are like Theseus amongst the Centaurs. Buller himself seems to be undergoing a sort of metempsychosis, and his transform- ation begins at the stomach. He is, probably, by this time, a wolf. As to those two anomalous instances of humanity, those Weaklings of the City, 1 really expect that they will be devoured in the first dearth of game, and that Tims, being found too "meagre even for soup, will be cast as " bones" to those lean and hungry quadrupeds who follow the march of your frightful army. Everything with you seems to wear the same face ; from the " imber edax" to the canines themselves. Well, here I am, the victim of leisure and hot weather. I am waiting my uncle's arrival from Paris, and my only consolation is, that I am at least on duty. I struggle through the day in the most pitiable perplexity, laboring from Hour to hour to be amused and amusing in vain. I even suspect that I shall infuse a portion of my languor into this my epistle to you. I don't know how the devil the women contrive to get on, but there is a spirit of perversity about them now and then, which supplies the place of animal strength. * Mr. Seward has sice condescended to inOrm us that Pjck-water is tho name if one of th /wadiingles (or, as he terms them, quads) of Christ-Church, Oxford. C. N. 7'j CHRISTOPHER IN THE TENT. The male performers at the Lyceum have evidently been unable t~ go through three pieces each night ; so the women started (all fillies- as for the " Oaks"), and ran over the ground alone. This is a piece ot'imj'udence on the part of the petticoats which deserves something more than mere remonstrance. Miss Kelly, to be sure, stands out as a fine concentration of the male species (she is the only approxi- mation to the sex), and " serves you out" with a due portion of talk, in order to do justice to her corporate capacity. Mrs. Chatterly, too, is a pleasant evidence of loquacious frailty ; and Miss Stevenson, with only one character to support, has a sort of double-tongued attainment, which she puts forth in a way prepossessingly earnest. We feel convinced, at once, that Mr. Ashe is by no means the only person who can perform a duet on one instrument. I lament, sincerely, that you haven't got your gloves with you : otherwise you might take the conceit out of Mister Price, and abolish Tims altogether, the one for affecting the 'gentleman, and the other lor imitating man at all. Tims ! there is a monosyllabic thinness in the name that stands in the place of the most elaborate comment. It has no weight upon the tongue, and sounds like the essence of nothing. It scarcely amounts to " thin air ;" and when one strives to elevate it to the dignity of a word, one feels a consciousness that the attempt is presumptuous and vain. The letters seem scarcely the legitimate offspring of the alpha- bet. They have, collectively, none of the softness of the vowel, and none of the strength of the consonant : but seem to be at the half-way house between meaning and absurdity. The name (pronounce it) sounds like the passing buzz of a drone. It is like a small and ill- favored number in the lottery, which seems predestined to be a blank from the beginning. I see Tims " the shadow" before me ; and when ever, for the future, I shall quote the saying of the mighty Julius, I will say, "Aut Caesar,- aut Tims !" And then you tell me of Mister Price. I admire your ingenious note about dandies, but the subject is stale, and I cannot revive it. He seems of the same intellectual stature with his friend, but he has more of the leaven of mortality about him. This seems to be the sole distinction between them one appears to be a vehicle for want of meaning, and the other cannot claim to be even anything. The utterance of the name of" Price" leaves the lips in a state of suspen- sion, and as it were consideration, which alone gives him claim to some attention. One says, almost mechanically, " Price !" " What Price ]" any Price : no Price. The fall is like that of the stocks in stormy times, except that the name is scarcely worth a " specula- tion." Talking of gloves, as Mr. Aircaslle would say, puts me in mind THE RISG. TJ of the real thing, of which gloves are but the representatives.* Cy Davis has retrieved his fame. Tie has committed a sort of conquest upon a gentleman from the " Emerald Isle," whose genius was any- thing but pugilistic. They met at Moulsey ; the collision was striking enough, but altogether in favor of Cy. Your friends are wrong about Donelly. He did not " go immediately to Brighton." I saw him at Riddlesdown about three hours after his victory, as it has been pleasantly called (he was within an ace of getting a drubbing), and I heard Shelton invite him very civilly to a renewal of the sport in two or three months' time. " Sir Daniel," however, seemed to have more than enough of conquest, and sported forbearance. He is a heavy, awkward fellow, and beat, by mere accident, Oliver, who is much lighter than himself, and the slowest hitter in the ring. " Mr. Daniel," before the battle, affected to be. sorry for poor " Oliver, on account of his family becase he shot/Id bale him so asily ! /" But what is all this to you, who, it seems, put forth your Oxford fruit in a foreign land, and reduce the Coliseum to couplets. By-the-by, if Buller should go on blundering at the birds as in the olden time, he will stand a good chance of getting a coup de grace trom one or other of your new friends. Perhaps Mr. Odoherty may ' do the honors," or the task may be confided to the " shepherd's dog," in one of those snug dells which occur frequently among the mountains. Mr. Odoherty is a pleasant exotic, who would run wild in any soil. Give my compliments to him ; and say that, for Dr. Morris, his visage, and his craniology, I profess to entertaiu the most profound respect. I have scarcely room to say that I am, as usual, youis very sin- cerely, FREEMAN SCRIBBLE. At the conclusion of this epistle, the Ettrick Shepherd asked Sew- ard, with more asperity than we recollect ever before to have seen him exhibit, " Wha that Scribble ane had in his ee when he tanked o' Scottish savages?" Seward, who had long taken a strong liking to the Shepherd, gave him the most reiterated assurances that there was nothing personal in the remark, but that, on the contrary, it ap- plied to the Editor and all the Contributors indiscriminately with which satisfactory explanation the Bard seemed quite contented. Nothing could be more delightful than to witness the friendship of those two great men. We had been informed in the morning, b} * A promising plant of the Bristol Garden. He -was beat by Turner, and i'. was thought by some, that he (ought shy of the Welshman's left-hand but t'other day, he sir ashed Busr nel, the little Irish Ajax, like so much crockery- ware. Cy. is a good hitter tjt he is fond of having things his own way. and is thought to pay a compliment better tha'j he receives one. But who is perfect ? C. N. [Cy., or Cyril Davies, was a professional priie-fighter. So was Shelton, and so was Donelly, commonly called " Sir Daniel, "on his own leport that. aftr he fought and beat Oliver, in July. 1819, he was invited to meet the Prince Regent. atBri^htoa, where he received the honor of Knighthood ! M.] 74 CHRISTOPHER IN TUE TENT. Tickler, that during our absence Hogg and Seward were insepa- rable. The Shepherd recited to the Oxonian his wild lays of fairy superstition, and his countless traditionary ballads of the olden time while the Christ-Church man, in return, spouted Eton and Oxford Prize Poems, some of them in Latin, and, it was suspected, one or two even in Greek, greatly to the illumination, no doubt, of the Pastoral Bard. Hogg, however, frankly informed his gay young friend, " that he could na thole college poetry, it was a' sae desperate stupid. As for the Latin and Greek poems, he liked them weel enough, for it was na necessary for ony body to understand them ; but for his ain part, he aye wished the English anes to hae just some wee bit inkling o' meaning, and, on that account, he hated worse o 1 a' them that Seward called by the curious name o' Sir Roger New digates.* Deel tak me," quoth the Shepherd, " gin the Sir Rogers binna lang supple idiots o' lines, no worthy being set up in teeps." " Similitude in Dissimilitude" is the principle of friendship as well as, according to Mr. Wordsworth, of poetry and certainly, while Hogg and Seward resembled each other in frankness, joviality, good humor, generosity, and genius, there is no denying that the shades of difference in their appearance, dress, and manners, were very per- ceptible. Seward was most importunate on the Shepherd to get him to promise a visit to Oxford, where, with his light sky-blue jacket and white hat, he would electrify the Proctors. Nay, the Englishman \vent so far as to suggest the propriety of the Shepherd's entering himself at one of the Halls, where gentlemen, by many years his senior, sometimes come to revive the studies of their youth and " who knows," said Seward, " my dear chum, if the Ettrick Shepherd may not one day or other be the Principal of St. Mary's Hall." The Shepherd replied with his usual naivete, that he " preferred re- maining the Principal of St. Mary's Loch ;" at which piece of plea- santry Buller himself, though a severe critic of jokes, condescended to smile, somewhat after the manner of Dr. Hodgson. f We took up a little parcel, which had been forwarded to us fi om Edinburgh, and found it to contain some very beautiful verses by Mrs. Hemans, on a subject that could not but be profoundly inter- esting to the sou* of every Scotsman. Our readers will remember, that about a year ago, a truly patriotic person signified his intention of giving 1,000 towards the erection of a monument to Sir William Wallace. At the same time, he proposed a prize of 50 to the best Poem on the following subject ' The meeting of Wallace and Bruce * The prize contended for at Oxford, by under-graduates, for the best poem on a eiveu subject, was founded by Sir Koger Newdigate, whose name it bears. It happens that Heber Wilson, and MiLman, are about the only true poet* who have obtained this prize within tlie la*t haif century. M. i Th.e was tiie Hev. Dr Frodsham Hodgson, then Principal of Brazenose Collece. Ox- t>'d.-M BERZELIUS PENDEAGON. To m the Banks of the Carron." This prize was lately adjudged to Mrs. li'emans, whose poetical genius has been for some years well known to the public, by those very beautiful poems, " Greece," and "The Restoration of the Works of Art to Italy." Our pages have already been graced with some of her finest verses witness that most pathetic Elegy on the Death of the Princess Charlotte, which first appeared in our Miscellany. It was with much pleasure that we lately observed, in that respectable journal, the Edinburgh Monthly Review, a very elegant critique on a new volume of Mrs. Hemans, entitled " Tales and Historic Scenes," with copious ex- tracts ; and when we mentioned in the Tent, that Mrs. Hemans had authorized the judges, who awarded to her the prize, to send her poem to us, it is needless to say with what enthusiasm the proposal of reading it aloud was received on all sides, and at its conclusion what thunders of applause crowned the genius of the fair poet. Scotland has her Baillie Ireland her Tighe England her Hemans.* We now took up, with great satisfaction, a small packet, the su- perscription of which was evidently in the hand-writing of our old worthy friend, Dr. Berzelius Pendragon. The Doctor, though now a shining star of the Episcopalian Church, had not been originally destined for holy orders, and for some years bore the commission of surgeon in the 1st regiment of the West- York Militia. On its re- duction he naturally enough turned his thoughts to divinity ; and having, at the age of fifty, got a curacy worth 80, at least, per annum he, being a bachelor, may be said to have been in easy, if not aflluent circumstances. Just on reaching his grand climacterio he fell into matrimony, and the cares of an infant family ensuing, he very judiciously took boarders and wrote for reviews. The board- ers, however, being all north-countrymen, and thence voracious, over-eat the terms ; and the reviews paid only 2 2s. per sheet of original matter, where extracts were of no avail. Having heard of our Magazine as indeed who has not "? he came clown into Scot- vrnuon by Mrs. nemans, in view 01 ner last resting-piace, anu one 01 ivioore's in (." ! saw thy Form in Youthful Prime,") was suggested by her early death. There was a much truth as poetry, if all that is related of Mrs. Tighe be true, in the conciuuing stanza. If souls could always dwell above, Thou ne'er hadst left that sphere ; , Or could we keep the souls we love, We ne'er had lost thee here, Mary ! Though many a gifted mind we meet, Though fairest forms we see, To live with them is far less sweet, Than to remember thee, Mary ! .Mo ire adniU that, in the closing lines, he endeavored to imitate that exquisite inscription c! tftien^tjne's, ' Heu ! quanto minus eat cum reliquis v-.rsari quam, tui meminesse !" M 76 CITEISTOPIIEE ix TIII-: TKNT. land in ISIS, and took up his abode with Ben Waters.* No man cvor so looked the Contributor as the Rev. Ber/elius Pendragon (for at that time he had no degree); and \ve accordingly put him into train- ing in Constable's Magazine, to see as it were what he could do there with the mufflers, before we ventured to back him in a real stand-up fight. His first performances were promising ; and his account of a wonderful American animal, twenty feet high, and with soles three yards in circumference (under the fictitious signature of Serjeant Pollock, Blantyre), attracted considerable notice among the natural- ists of the united kingdoms. Unfortunately, in the farther prosecu- tion of that animal, he committed himself by some allusion to Sir Joseph Banks, who was then too ill to be taking that active interest in the mastodonton (so the creature of Pendragon's imagination was called) attributed to him ; and the suspicions of the sapient Editor having been awakened, he very considerately wrote to Dr. Hodgson of Blantyre for a certificate of Serjeant Pollock's existence. The Serjeant of course turned out to be as completely a fictitious animal as the mastodonton himself, and the soles of his feet precisely of the same dimensions ; and of course a very striking anatomical sketch of the latter, which Berzelius had drawn for Constable, was committed to the flames, and the very paper bones of the formidable monster reduced to ashes. Pendragon, however, had acquired reputation by this set-to, and he was matched against the Bagman (See Number for August, 181S),f whom he beat with apparent ease; though we confess, that during the battle he attempted more than one blow of dubious character, which the Bagman, who is a fine spirited lad, agreed to overlook. His fame getting wind, the Senatus Academicus of the University of Glasgow, in the handsomest manner, conferred upon him the unsolicited degree of D.D., and rarely has it been by them so judi- ciously bestowed. From this time, our friend Pendragon, who had been previously noted for a sort of dry humor, that in days of old was wont to set the mess-table of the West- York Militia in a roar, became somewhat grave and formal nay, even pompous and aphor- * TJen Waters kept a tavern in Kdinbtugh. much frequented by " young men about town." Odolierty, who celebrated his praise and thai of Kill "ioung, at whose hostelree the Dilettanti used to meet, F peaks cf Waters, as "charming Ben, Simplest and stupidest of men." Young and Waters, with their laureate, have passed away and are among the things which have been. M. t This was an amusing review of two works simultaneously published in London, in 1817 One was ''Letters from the Xorth Highland*." by Elizabeth Isabella Spence ; the other, ' Letters from Scotland, by an English Commercial Traveller." It is difficult to say which was most amusing from sheer absurdity. The lady intensely admired every thing Scottish . the gentleman turned up his nose at every thing which was not from " Lun'un." Black woe; tfized the tit-bits of each book, and made a ' ri^hte merry and delichtlul" article from then, concluding with afuggestion. that the Travelling Spinster and the Literary Bacman should marry. The article excited much amusement at the time, (by the way, it told off two cditKiu- ol l.'ie Koks ! and if often referred to in Blackwooa. M. AT AMBROSE'S. 77 istical so that he reminded us very much of Dr. Slcalh, the present head-master of St. Paul's School, London, formerly of Rugby. lie is, however, a truly worthy man " a man of morals and of manners too ;" and our readers will be happy to be informed, that what with " the annual comings-in of a small benefice," (such are some v,'ords> in The Excursion,) and what with our ten guineas per sheet, it e Doctor and Mrs. Pendragon contrive to make the ends meet verj comfortably, and likewise to support a family which bids fair to emulate in numbers that of the greatest productive laborer of this economical age the President of the Board of Agriculture! After this slight and imperfect sketch of Berzelius Pendragon, D.D. for he was not known to the whole conclave we did not fear to read aloud the following article on PYNE'S HISTORY OF THE ROYAL RESIDENCES.* IT is quite possible to have too much of a good thing. This rnay be considered as a somewhat trite and elderly remark, to proceed from the pen of one of our (collectively speaking) original and erratic divan. But fortunately for the existence and well-being of that at present flourishing fraternity, there yet remains amongst them one sober, staid, and quietly disposed gentleman one true-bred and thoro'-paced Reviewer of the old school in short, that anomaly in our little museum of natural history at Ambrose's, " a married man between fifty and sixty." By-the-by, that " obscure man," the Editor, seems, during our absence from the shooting party on the twelfth of August, to have entirely forgotten us. But we do not wonder at it for the whole party frequently forget us even in our very presence, when we are sitting in due state over our pint of London porter, after supper at Ambrose's listening to, or at least hearing, their enormous jokes. And yet there is nothing very strange in this, for, to disclose one of the " secrets of the prison- house," they sometimes, on these occasions, forget themselves. But observe the effect of " evil communication !" The perpetual example of these nighty fellow-laborers of ours has actually betrayed ?/.?, Berzelius Pendragon, D.D.f into the unpardonable indecorum ot departing from the straight road which we had prescribed to.oui selves. * Printed for A. Dry, LonJon. 1819. 3vols.4to.2l guineas. C.N. [This -was what, is called " a skit," in the manner, introduced in Maga, of thro.ving a great deal of persona: allusion? into its critical articles. Mr. l'y ne > actually did proJuce a -v\ ->rk on the Royal Residences in Great Britain. M.j t It may be well to state that one of our brethren (the reader will guess jcAi'cA), knowin,, n better, interpreted this D.D. Doctor of Decorum ; alluding probably to our increasing, though too frequently ineffectual, efforts to preserve that propriety of conduct at our meetings vithou? which a society of literati are little better than a society of other people. Kver since thai time, though there are several other doctors among us, we have been styled THK Doc run, | a excellence. Perhaps tney give us this title as a quiz, but we take it as a compliment. B. Y. 78 CHRISTOPHER IN THE TENT. We were about to observe, that if it were not for a Contributor of the kind we have described ourselves to be, capable and willing to throw in a measure of salutary dulness now and then, by way of ballast, the vessel would very soon upset, or be blown clean out of the water. With all our sober and constitutional views on politics, properly so-called, yet we are fain to confess, that there is nothing like a republican form of government in societies like ours. Or perhaps it should rather be called an oligarchy. In short, let it be anything rather than a monarchy , for in three months that would inevitably degenerate into a flat despotism. Think, for a moment, of our Miscellany being governed or conducted by any one among our numerous, and, in their own departments and their own opinions, highly gifted frater nity ! why, instead of being, as it is now, a perpetual " Magazin d Nouveautes," a perfect " Theatre de Varietes," it would instantly be recast in the mould of the self-love of him into whose hands it might fall, and become, like the walls of Carlisle prison, all of a cc'or, and very hard to get through. For example : If the conduct of our work were resigned to Dr. Morris, does any one who knows that worthy Welshman doubt that, notwithstanding his natural acuteness and love of variety, he would be tempted to make it subserve to the aggrandizement of (whatever he may say or swear to the contrary) his favorite study ? All its fea- tures would be changed. The four sides of the cover, instead of exhi- biting the philosophical and philanthropic physiognomy which has been mistaken for that of Mr. Blackwood himself, and the interesting and instructive advertisements of books published by " John Murray and William Blackwood," or " William Blackwood and John Murray," would be occupied by a front, a back, and two side views of the human skull divine, forming, together, a complete atlas of the geography of the four different quarters of that (in his opinion) celestial globe.* And the internal arrangements would undergo a change no less calculated to " perplex the nations ;" for the doctor would certainly convert it into a kind of log-book, to record the dis- coveries he has made, and intends to make, in his late and future expeditions to examine the regions about the NORTH POLE. Would the work be better off under the sole guidance of any other among us? Alas! no, Kempferhausen would inflate it into a huge paper-balloon, to go up into the clouds monthly, and carry messages bet .ween him and his lady, the moon. Wastle would make it all rhyme which is bad enough; and Laucrwinkle all reason which is worse. Nay, we shall candidly confess (for candor is our foib'e) THE TWELVE C.ESAKS. 79 that if we ourselves had the management of it, it would probably be very little better than Constable's. Even if Odoherty the inexhaustible and immortal Odoherty (I call him " immortal" for it appears that he has hitherto escaped unhurt from Waterloo, an Irish widow, and whisky punch,) even if fie were to undertake the care, it would certainly fail for he would make it anything, which is nothing. That is to say, he would " make nothing of it." Or if he did, it would be only fun : And if one could conceive an ocean formed all of whisky toddy (nothing but the antique imagination of the Ettrick Shepherd, or the antic one of Odoherty, could conceive such a thing) it would probably be quite as unpleasant and as unprofitable to be drowned in that as in one of common salt-water. No. If we regard the welfare of our little community, we must none of us aspire to be Coesars. Unless, indeed, when a dozen of us are met together at our little library in Gabriel's Road, we can fancy ourselves, for the time-being, THE TWELVE CAESARS, shut up in a coin-collector's cabinet. The truth is, we form a very strong and handsome bundle as it is; but if any accident should break the string that holds us together, we shall be no better than so many sticks. But we are astonished, and even scandalized, on looking over what we have written ! Why, we have been thinking and talking about our flashy and frisky fraternity, till they have actually inveigled us into a fit of momentary mirth ! To our contemplation the thing seems as little in keeping, as it would be to see Professor Leslie play at leap-frog,* or Dugald Stewart dance a saraband. A fit of pleasantry ! We would as soon, if not sooner, have had a fit of the gout : For while the former is sure to betray us into some idle and unseemly levity, the latter, with its concomitants of easy-chair, foot-stool, flannel and Maderia, gives an air of doctorial dignity to the whole man ; and demands a degree of deference and respect oftener (we grieve to say it) oftener expected than paid. Truly, we have most strangely departed from the accustomed and required dignity of our department. If we should hereafter learn that we have been so unhappy as to call up a smile to the face of the reader, we shall never forgive ourselves ; and shall never hear the last of it at Ambrose's. But still the reader himself shall not suffer through our misconduct : for, seeing that at the outset of our article we have been more lively than became us, we shall take care, throughout the 80 CHRISTOPHER IN THE TEXT. remainder of it, to indulge him with more than our usual ar<.l stipn lated proportion of dullness. But, before proceeding to the imme- diate subject of our article, it may be well to state, for the satisfac- tion of all parties, that the foregoing is our very first exhibition c. this kind ; and is likely to be the very last. We might, to be sure, expunge the objectionable part of what we have written, and re-write the whole article. But, to say nothing of our being rather behind our time, we have considered that it will be, upon the whole, better to let it remain ; as a salutary warning, both to ourselves and others, not to quit the path which nature, habit, and inclination have marked out for them : For, if we may judge of ourselves, we cut as strange a figure at a frisk, as the Ettrick Shepherd would at a quadrille party. For be it known to all whom it may concern, (and whom does it not concern?) that we, Berzelius Pendragon, D.D., do hereby disclaim all participation in the merits or demerits of the numerous noisy and nonsensical articles that have from time to time appeared in this Magazine. But as the Public seem to patronize them, well and good. It is their concern, not ours. At the same time, though no one has hitherto thought fit to mention our name not even the Editor in his account of the late shooting party on the 12th of August we shall no longer be induced to forego the portion of credit which really does belong to us ; and which the Contributors themselves were not very wise in so long withholding from the true claimant, seeing that they would every one of them be sorely averse from taking it upon themselves. All the grave articles, then, (it is quite needless to particularize them) which have graced and are to grace these pages all which by general consent have been stamped with the (in our opinion meritorious) character of dullness were contrived and constructed solely and exclusively by us, Berzelius Pendragon,* D.D. We now return to " the even tenor of our way," and proceed to " labor in our vocation." Jt has not been our practice to notice works whose chief attractions consist in their pictorial embellishments ; but we have been so much pleased in looking over these volumes, that we are induced to make them more extensively known than they are likely to be in this part of the kingdom without our aid. Among the many richly illustrated works that have of late years evinced the enterprise and liberality of British publishers, perhaps this is at once the most splendid and tht most interesting. Undoubtedly the external character and appear ance of the English palaces have long been the theme of vulgar sur prise and contemptuous comparison, by foreigners visiting this coun * The reader will probably have anticipated, even if we had not informed him, that when- ever it i? needful for any written communication to pass between us and our coadjutors, the; invariably place a hyphen between each syllable of our name Pen-drag-on. Thus tran- formini: a distinguished patronymic into a despicable pun or rather a trinity of puns. Triu juiicu \a uuo. 6. P. KOYAL PA LACKS. 81 try ; and also by those English travellers who visit the cohtinei t (that is to say, P-irix), for the notable purpose of discovering and making known in what respects oilier countries arc superior to their own. If you tell these people that London boasts the finest religious temple in the world, they answer, " But lock at St. James' Palace, and coin- pare it with that of the Tuileries !'' If yon point to our Charitable institutions, unapproached in munificence of endowment and extent of utility by those of any other nation, they exclaim, " But then how miserably inferior are Kew and Hampton Court to St. Cloud and Versailles !" If you prove to them that the Custom House, the East India House, and the Bank, evince more wealth and public spirit than could be found among the same class of persons in all the nations of the continent united, they reply, "But then, what a paltry private residence for a queen is the cottage at Frogmore, compared with the two Trianons !" It is undoubtedly a reasonable subject of surprise, that, during the last two centm-ies, so little has been added to the external splendor of the English palaces ; but, as it regards the people, one should perhaps expect it to form a subject of congratula- tion rather than regret. Certain it is, however, that the magnificent work to which we now call the reader's attention, fully proves that, in the internal arrangements of the royal residences, there is no lack of splendor which should surround the court and person of the Eng- lish sovereign ; no deficiency of subjects calculated to awaken arid renew many of those delightful associations which we are accustomed to connect with times of romance and chivalry ; and, above all, no want of evidence of British sovereigns having felt that the walls of a palace can in no other way be so splendidly and appropriately orna- mented as by the unfading works of genius and taste : for it is a very interesting feature of the illustrations of this work, that copies are given of all the ancient pictures which enrich the walls of the differ- ent apartments each appearing in the relative situation which it ac- tually occupies. Some of these copies, though necessarily on a very minute scale, are so extremely well executed as immediately to recall to the recollection of those who are acquainted with them, the admirable originals. This is peculiarly the case with respect to the Cartoons, which occupy the Avails of one of the apartments at Hampton Court. Mr. I'yne's work consists of four quarto volumes, containing to- gether one hundred plates, which are all fac-similes of colored draw- ings made for the purpose by artists of the very first celebrity ; each drawing representing, in its present state, some one apartment in 0112 or other of the royal palaces. These drawings were executed by the express permission, and of many we may say, under the actual inspection of the royal inhabitants theinselves who not only patron- ized, but really took a personal interest in the progress of the work : and it may be not uninteresting to know, th it the vignette, repre- VOL. I. 8 82 CHRISTOPHER IN THE TENT. 'sonting the hermitage, in the garden at Frogmore, is copied from a plate etched by the Princess Elizabeth herself.* We have been informed of these particulars by the gentleman to whom we are indebted for a sight of this work ; for we confess its price has rendered it quite inaccessible to ourselves. If we were to notice any of the plates in particular, we should point to the exquisite and elaborate workmanship of those representing the splendid architec- tural decorations of the Royal Chapel and St. George's Chapel in Windsor Castle ; and the conservatory and gothic dining-room at Carlton-house. For magnificence of modern embellishment, the golden drawing-room and alcove, and the crimson drawing-room at Carlton-house, are perhaps not surpassed in any palace in Europe, f We shall not be expected to have much to say with respect to the literary merits of a work like this; and if we admit that the arrange- ment of the materials appears to be perspicuous, and the style tolerably clear and correct, it is, perhaps, all that the ambition of the author would demand. We shall, however, fairly confess, that \ve arc, for once, reviewing a book that we have not read through. But 1 hough it will be easily admitted that this is a work in which pictorial embellishment may not improperly form the principal feature, yet on turning over its pages, and stopping to read here and there, (and this is all we have had time to do,) we find it interspersed with a variety of very amusing anecdotes and circumstances connected with the successive occupiers of the palaces ; and also with some interesting historical and critical notices of some of the principal works of art, copies of which pass in review before us ; together with biographical sketches of the distinguished persons whose portraits are among the number. It must not be imagined, by our gentle readers, that during this enunciation we good people in the Tent were under any very severe discipline. We are no Martinet, and are of opinion that, even on actual service, it is better to command by love than by fear. Ac- cordingly, it was understood among the Contributors from the very first, that while no man was to be allowed loud laughter except the Shepherd, in respect to his genius and infirmity, an occasional titter would be overlooked by the Editor; and that even a little whisper- ing in a corner would not excite so much displeasure in his breast as it has been observed to do in that of my Lady Piano F. durii,g the performance of a screeching solo at a musical party in her house. The Contributors kept going out and coming in like bees, so that a low, * The Princess Elizabeth, third daughter of George III., born 1770, and married to the I.angrave of Hesse Homberg, IslS. She was very accomplished, and drew and etched, as well us ifche had been an artist. M. t Cirlton-House, long the favorite residence of George IV., was pulled down in 1S27, and ihe pillars which formed the entrance colonnade, now are to be seen in the front facade of ihe National Gallery, Trafalgar Square, London. M. THE AKTICLK8. 83 pleasant, continuous murmur encircled the Tent. There was not even an ordinance against sleep except with a snore ; and it is a singular enough fact in natural history, that those Contributors who performed most powerfully during the night, when such indulgence was freely permitted to us all, took snatches of slumber during an Article as silently as so many dormice. This is one of many proofs of the power of the will over the functions of the bodily organs in sleep. We must all remember how, during the course of our travels, we used to awake, to a minute, at an hour fixed mentally with our- selves before going to bed ; and, on the present occasion, we could not help smiling, to see with what supernatural accuracy Timothy Tickler would awake at the conclusion of any article at which he had taken an alarm, and avoided by a skilful and well-timed nap. Was it that he first conjectured its probable duration, and then, by an act of the sleeping yet waking will, awoke just as it ceased? Or may the phenomenon be accounted for on a simpler theory, namely, that Tickler awoke as the Editor or Buller, for example, ceased to speak, just as we have heard of naval officers starting up in their hammocks, awakened by the unusual silence, when the morning-gun did not fire ? Owing to the relief given to the mind by little interruptions and incidents of this kind, we suspect that the articles of our Contributors seemed much better ones when we read aloud in the tent, than they may do when perused in a brown study, or the Glasgow coffee-room ; but this is a disadvantage to which all viva-voce harangues are liable in tent, in church, and in state. Even one of Dr. Chalmers' astrono- mical discourses, which we heard him preach before the Commis- sioner, seemed to us more sublime when volleyed by his thunderous voice through those Gothic arches, than when looked at silently in our own little blue parlor, with out feet on the fender, and our worthy housekeeper (but that way madness lies) knitting a worsted stocking for our rheumatic leg, sufficiently long to reach half way up the thigh. In like manner, we remember reading, with scarce any emotion but a slight one of contempt, a speech of Mr. Tierney* in ;i newspaper, which we were told by Odoherty convulsed with laughter the whole House. In like manner, a joke of Mr. Cockburu's will, in the General Assembly of our Church, well nigh shake the wigs from the heads of hundreds, which, when confidentially communicated afterwards by one of his admirers to some unfortunate gentleman not present at its first delivery, would seem to have been still-born. * George Tierney entered Parliament in 1796, and became a strong opponent of Mr. Pitt, with whom he fought a duel in 1798. The Addington Cabinet of Isfti, made him Treasurei of the Navy, and in 1S06, he was President of the Board of Control, but went out the next year, when the Grenville ministry resigned. He was one of the leaders of the Opposition until 1M27, when he was made Master of the Mint, under Canning, remained in omcc under Lord Goderich, with whom he retired in 1828, and died in 1634). He was a very heavy debater and was ridiculed as such, in The New Whig Guide, published 1819, and wriltro by Palmerston, Peel, and J. W Croker. M. 84: CHRISTOPIIEK IN THE TENT. The truth is, th.it as it was necessary to have been in the High Church, the House of Commons, or the General Assembly, fully to feel and admire the eloquence of Chalmers, the wit of Tierney, or the humor of Cockburn so was it necessary to have been in our Tent, to enjoy, with perfect enjoyment, the eloquence of a Kempferhausen, the wit of a Tickler, or the humor of a Pendragon. After the last gentleman's article, we were not without hopes thai our dear friend Dr. Morris would have favored us with something good ; but Peter let us understand that we must not expect any article from him for some months, as he was busy on his " Letters from the Highlands of Scotland," which he hoped to have out early in spring.* Nobody Avho has not seen the Doctor write, can have Ihe slightest idea of the rapidity of his intellectual and manual opera- lions ; and he now lifted up and fluttered before our eyes at least a hundred pages of closely-written MSS., exclaiming, " Nearly half of the first volume, you dog. When Scotland is finished, then ' for England, ho !'" It was now wearing pretty far into the afternoon, and the Editor's tra\elling china punch-bowl, Hogg's jug, and the quechs of the other Contributors, had, as our readers will readily suppose, been plenished and replenished oftener, perhaps, than it is needful to avow. There could have been no getting on without this ; for joy is every whit as dry as sorrow, and the tongues of the Contributors would have cloven to the roofs of their mouths without a judicious and well- timed infusion of the true spirit. We were just in the act of propos- ing a bumper to the health of that most entertaining of all human beings, Mr. John Ballantyne, who had gone out to breathe the frag ranee of the heather, and to hear John of Sky " His Scottish tunes and warlike marches play," when that gentleman himself put his facetious face in at the Tent- door ; and with an expression of the most profound and solemn respect strangely blended with its natural and invincible archness, he exclaimed, in considerable agitation, " By the author of Wavcrloy, and every other great Known or Unknown, here is Dr. Mansel, the bishop of Bristol. I have been with him for this half-hour such another famous bishop saw I never at home or abroad. Put in a jaup mair rum into the bit bowlie, for by his talk I warrant him a dreigh sooker. , That'll do rise up, gentlemen, while 1 fetch in the bishop." We were all thrown into some consternation by this unexpected visit from so high a dignitary of the Episcopalian Church, and every lid U-ss eye was bent towards the Tent-door, when once more came * Announced, but never published, probably never written. M. SCOTT, THE ODONTIST. 85 bowing in, hat in hand, our small incomparable Bibliopole, ushering forward, in full sail, and gorgeous array, not Dr. Mansel, bishop of Bristol but hear it, O Dee, and give ear, thou Clyde DR. SCOTT, THE CELEBRATED ODONTIST OF GLASGOW. One roar of unextinguished laughter shook the Tent while that wittiest of doctors lookivi towards that wittiest of bibliopoles with a countenance of the JIDS!; solemn assurance, and pompously asked, "What sort of treatment is this for a BISHOP ?" John Ballantyne had never before seen Dr. Scott, and he now kept his small gray piercing eyes suspiciously upon him, as the veil of clerical mystery seemed to be falling off from the shoulders of the self-appointed spiritual peer. " Me a Bishop," cried the exulting Doc- tor, ''I was only gagging you, man! Ye nae sooner tald me your name, than I said into myself hooly, hooly, we hae gotten here the wuttiest and gleggest wee chield in a' Edinburgh, and gin I can but gyy Mr. John Ballantyne, what will Carnegie and Provan, and a' the ither clever fallows in Glasgow, think o' me then ?" The Doctor's classical and theological imagination had, it seems, sug- gested to him the idea of personating the Bishop of Bristol ; and during half an hour's conversation with Mr. Ballantyne, he had more than half concluded a bargain for the copyright of a volume of Sermons, in which the Socinian controversy was lor ever to be laid at rest on both sides of the Tweed. But how came Dr. Scott to be hereabouts at all "? Had he not departed in the morning for Glasgow, or, to call that thriving city by the more rural appellation bestowed on it by its poetical inhabit- ants, " The West-Country ?" No such thing. The Doctor had been the gay deceiver of us all. At the very moment when his soul seemed to be breathing out sighs of scarcely articulate grief at the Parting Hour, and had responded so passionately to the L'Envoy of the inspired Shepherd, even then, had he meditated no farther journey than down to Mar-Lodge to give some medical advice to the Thane,* of whose arrival there he had been confidentially informed by an express the night before ; and it was on his return to the Tent that he had fallen in with Mr. Ballantyne, whom curiosity had drawn towards a cottage on the river's side, from the door of which the Doctor said a beautiful Highland girl was " showering her delightful smiles." Such were the ipsissima verba of the Odontist. " Why, Doctor," said the Shepherd, "you are as bad as my freen, Lord Byron, himsel, and it seems ye were just lauching in your sleeve a' the time you were sayin' gude day to me and the ither Contributors, just as he was lauchin' in his, when he said, The Earl of Fife claims to he a lineal descendant of the Thane of Fife mentioned in " Macbeth," bul las preteiisrms have be 211 challenged by genealogists and antif the imagination. It has its source and ground-work in the common love of " power" and strong excitement. As Mr. Burke observes, people flock to " Whig meetings;" but if there were a public execution in the next street, the "house" would very soon be empty. It is not the difference between fiction and reality that solves the difficulty. Children are satisfied with stories of ghosts and witches. The grave politician drives a thriving trade of abuse and calumnies, poured out against those whom he makes his enemies for no other end than that he may live by them. The popular preacher makes less frequeut mention of heaven than of bell Oaths and nicknames are only a more vulgar sort of " Whiggism." We are as fond of indulging our violent passions as of reading a description of those of others. We are as prone to make a torment of our fears as to luxuriate iu our hopes of " mischief.'' The love of power is as strong a principle in the mind a-, the love of pleasure. It is as natural to hate as to love, to despise as to admire, to express our hatred or contempt as our love of admiration. " Masterless passion sways us to the mood Oi what it likes or loathes." Not that we like what we loathe, but we like to indulge our hatred and scorn of it (viz. Toiyism) to dwell upon it to exasperate our idea of it by every refinement of ingenuity and exlravagance of illustration to make it a bugbear to ourselves to point it out to others in all the splendor of deformity to em- body it to the senses to stigmatize it in words to g7 i apple with it iu thought, in action to sharpen our intellect to arm our will against it to know the worst we have to contend with. auJ to contend with it to^he utmost Let who will strip nature of the colors and the shapes of " Whiggism," the " Whig" is not bound to do so; the impressions of common sense and strong ima- gination, that is, of passion and "temperance," cannot be the same, and they must have a separate language to do justice to either. Objects must strike differently upon the mind, independently of what they are in themselves, so long as we have a different interest in them as we see them in a different point of view, nearer or at a greater distance (morally or physically speaking), from novelty from old acquaintance from our ignorance, of them from our fear of their consequences from contrast from unexpected likeness ; hence nothing but Whiggism can be agreeable to nature and truth. This lecture gave universal satisfaction -but Dr. Magnus is a man of too much genius not to acknowledge unreservedly his obligations to other great men and after our plaudits had expired, he informed us, that he claimed little other merit than that of having delivered the lecture according to the best rules and principles of oratory, for that the words were by his friend Mr. Hazlitt. " In the original," said he, " Mr. Hazlitt employs the word ' Poetry,' which I have slightly changed into the word ' Whiggism,' and thus an excellent THE TEA-PAKT\r. 93 lecture on politics is procured, without the ingenious essayist having been at all aware of the ultimate meaning of his production.* "As the lecture was but short, will you have another ?" " No no enough is as good as a feast." quoth Odoherty " per- haps, Mr. Editor, if you request it, Mrs. Magnus will have the goodness to make tea/' There was not only much true politeness in this suggestion of the Adjutant, but a profound knowledge of the female character and, accordingly, the tea things were not Jong of making their appearance, for in our Tent it was just sufficient to hint a wish, and that wish, whatever it might be, that moment was gratified. Mr. Magnus, we observed, put in upwards of thirty spoonfuls being at the rate of two and a half for each Contributor and the lymph came out of the large silver tea-pot " a perfect tincture ;" into his third and last cup of which each Contributor emptied a decent glass of whisky; nor did the Lady of the Tent, any more than the Lady of the Lake, show any symptoms of distaste to the mountain dew. The conversation was indeed divine and it was wonderful with what ease Mrs. Magnus conducted herself in so difficult a situation. She had a word or a smile for every one, and the Shepherd whispered to Tickler, just loud enough to be heard by those near the Contributors' Box, " Sic a nice leddy wad just sute you or me to a hair, Mr. Tickler. Faith, thae blue ostrich plumbs wad astonish Davy Bryden, were he to see them hanging o'er the tea-pat at Eltrive-Lake, wi' a swurl." Alas ! there is always something imperfect in sublunary happiness. Baillie Jarvie seemed very unwell and out of spirits. " What ails you, my dear Baillie," said we, in the most affectionate tone, but still Jarvie sat with a long, dull, dissatisfied aspect, which looked most excessively absurd, close to the small insignificant happy face of Tims, who had some how or other got into an extraordinary high flow of spirits (we suspect he had sipped too much of that stout tea) and was coaxing and cockering up the Baillie w r ith " how r now, Mr. Jarvie, 1 'ope you are more better now ; will you try one of my pills, my good sir, Mamar 'as given me the box ; see, it has a picture of Hescu- lapius on the top. Hopen it, Mr. Bailiff, and take out as many as you choose; but three is a doze." " I am for none o' your nasty pills, Mr. Tims, swallow them all yourself before you lie down." " Mr. Bailiff, Mr. Bailiff, three is a doze ; was I to do that, Tommy Tims might lie down, but Tommy Tims would never rise hup no more ;" and as he ceased speaking, we could not help thinking of that passage in Milton, where it is said of Eaphael, that when he came to a house, Adam could not help thinking that the angel had not finished his speech. * On examination of the commencement of one of Hazlm's lectures on Toetry, the inge- nuity of the alteration will be seen. 04 CHRISTOPHER IN THE TENT. " Come. cx>me," said we, " give us a song, Baillie." " I don't believe you wish rne to sing or to do any thing else," was the reply; and in an instant we saw into the very seat of the Baillie's distemper. He manifestly hud been offended because we had not. asked him for an Article, which, Heaven knows, proceeded from no distrust in his literary talents, but from a notion that he would prefer making his sagacious remarks on the articles of other men, to any exhibition of his own. We were now undeceived, and on reiterating our request, honest Jarvie said, that he would recite a song, not sing it, but that first of all, he must say a word or two by way of pre- face : " Though 1 was," said he, " in my youth, a little addicted to poeti cal phantasies, yet have I, for a long while, been justly considered, in the Salt-market, as a mere proser. Some years ago, in my first wife's time, when that good woman was sorely afflicted with an ' in- come'* I was advised by Dr. Ninian Hill of Glasgow, to carry her to the country for a change of air, as he called it, or as I have been informed, it is termed by Dr. Gregory, mutatio coeli. With this view, 1 took a lease for a summer, at 27 of rent, from the late Mr. Robert Robison, of the villa and garden of Leddrie Green, in the parish of Strablane, a sweet spot, and of which parish the present learned and worthy minister of St. Andrew's church in Glasgow, also now professor of Hebrew in our university, was then pastor. I accordingly went thither with my spouse for the time being, and my little niece Nicky, that is to say, Nicolina Jarvie, at that time a little $kelpy, but now Mrs. Mecklehose, and who paid the most assiduous attention to her aunt in her last illness, reading to her at night Mrs. Mclver's Cookery, and the Rev. Ralph Erskine's Sermons. It was on a Saturday evening after tea, as I recollect, and when a little fatigued by my ride from Glasgow in a very warm day, and my wife rather worse, that, in order to recreate myself, I sat down in a little arbor in the garden the church and manse, and a jug of whisky toddy, full in my view- and composed a trifling ballad, which, with the permission of this company (and if Captain Odoherty would be pleased to give over swearing), I shall now read (though, as 1 find I nave lost my spectacles this morning in the hill in chasing Mr. Con- stable's bitch, who was worrying a lamb, 1 wish I may be able), but" Here the Baillie was interrupted rather improperly by Mr. Tick- ler, who briskly offered to read the ballad without Spectacles. " Deil tak me," quoth Mr. Hogg, " if I think you're able." Instantly Mr. Wastle, to put an end to all contention, proposed to read it himself, and this being agreed to by acclamation, Buller of * Income Issue. LEDDEIE GREEN. 95 Brazennose insisted, with rather an undue vehemence, on a liminary bumper ; and this also being instantly agreed to, and instantly swal- lowed, Mr. Wastle rose, and in his usual graceful and impressive manner, read with much pathos, LEDDRIE GREEN, An excellent new Song, Writtenby~BAiu*iE JAEVIE, a good many Years ago. "If that be not a bull," cried Odoherty. "Silence, Mr. Odoherty," and Mr. Wastle proceeded. 1. YE who, on rural pleasures bent, Roam idly round in summer sheen, From John o'Groat's to southern Kent, No spot you'll find like Leddrie Green. 2. Talk not to me of Brighton's joys, Its gay parade and glittering steyne; Fd leave its crowds and endless noise, For the sweet woods of Leddrie Green. 3. At Tunbridge ye who sip the springs, Or at the Sussex Pad' are seen ; Ah ! if you heard the rill that rings, Perennial close to Leddrie Green, 4. And ye at Harrowgate impure, Who shudder o'er your drafts unclean, Twould be a shorter ride, I'm sure, And sweeter far, to Leddrie Green. 5. Saltmarket Muse ! now deftly tell How rocks basaltic rise and screen The windings of the upland fell, That skirts the strath at Leddrie Green. 6. Bold crags romantic thence ye view, Loch Lomond and its woods I ween ; And Morven's summits tinged with blue, Break the far sky at Leddrie Green. 7. Thy spout, Ballagan, thundering down Like Niagara foams between The darksome pines and shrubs, that own The neighborhood of Leddrie Green. Do CHRISTOPHER IN THE TENT. 8. Aiul ye who. vex'd with city noise, Retire to breathe the air so keen ; Ah ! think of eating Nicky's pies, And turkey pouts at Leddrie Green. 9. Or you who lonely wish to sigh, O'er life's short course and winter's e'en, Go view the mausoleum nigh, The parish-kirk at Leddrie Green. 10. A gentle swain here rests inurn'd, The only spot where rest is given ; Between two wives, each duly mourn'd, And married still 'tis hoped in heaven. This poem was applauded to " the very echo" by all but Mrs. Magnus, who was too polite to say anything derogatory to Bailie Jarvie's genius. Indeed, she no doubt admired that genius, but the subject did not seem to interest her. " My dear Mr. Odoherty (for they treated each other with infinite respect), will you give us some- thing amatory ?" " I gives my vice, too, for something hamatory," pertly enough whiffled Mr. Tims ; when the Standard-bearer, after humming a few notes, and taking the altitude from the pitch-key of Tickler (which he carries about with him as certainly as a parson carries a corkscrew), went off in noble style with the following song, his eyes all the while turned towards Mrs. Magnus Oglethorpe, whose twinklers emanated still but eloquent responses not to be misunderstood. INCONSTANCY; A SONG TO MRS. M'WHIRTKB. By ME. ODOHERTT. 1. " YE fleeces of gold amidst crimson enroll'd That sleep in the calm western sky, Lovely relics of day float ah ! float not away ! Are ye gone ? then, ye beauties, good bye 1" It was thus the fair maid I had loved would have staid The last gleaiinngs of passion in me ; But the orb's fiery glow in the soft wave below Had been cooled and the thing could not be. 2. While thro' deserts you rove, if you find a green grove Where the dark branches overhead meet, There re]se you a while from the heat and the toil. And be thankful the shade is so sweet ; But if long you remain, it is odds but the rain Or the wind 'moug the leaves may be stirring ; They will strip the boughs bare you're a fool to stay there Change the scene without further demurring. MRS. OGLETIIORPE. 97 Jf a rich-laden tree in your wandering? you see, With the ripe fruit all glowing and swelling, Take your fill as you pass if you don't you're an ass, But I daresay you don't need my telling. 'Twould be just as great fooling to come back for more pulling, When a week or two more shall have gone, These firm plums very rapidly, they will taste very vapidly, By good luck we'll have pears coming on ! 4. All around Nature's range is from changes to change?, And in change all her charming is centered When you step from the stream where you've bathed, 'twere a dream To suppose 't the same stream that you entered ; Each clear crystal wave just a passing kiss gave, And kept rolling away to the sea So the love-stricken slave for a moment may rave, But ere long, oh ! how distant he'll be 1 6. Why 'tis only in name, you, e'en you, are the same With the SHE that inspired my devotion, Every bit of the lip that I lov'd so to sip Has been changed in the general commotion Even these soft gleaming eyes, that awaked my young sighs, Have been altered a thousand times over ; Why % Oh ! why then complain that so short was your reign i Must all Nature go round but your lover? The tears flowed in torrents, from the blue eyes of Mrs. Magnus, during the whole of this song; and when Mr. Tims, who was now ex- tremely inebriated (he has since apologized to us for his behavior, and assured us, that when tipsy on tea he is always quite beyond himself), vehemently cried, " Hangcore! hangcore !" the gross impro- priety of such unfeeling conduct was felt by Mr. Seward. who offered, if agreeable to us, to turn him out of the Tent ; but Tims became more reasonable upon this, and asked permission to go to bed ; which being granted, his friend Price assisted the small cit to lay down, and in a few minutes, we think, unless we were deceived, that we faintly heard something like his own thin tiny little snore. Mrs. Magnus soon recovered her cheerfulness; for being, with all her vivacity, subject to frequent but short fits of absence, she every now and then, no doubt without knowing what she was about, filled up her tea-cup, not from the silver tea-pot, but from a magisterial-looking bottle of whisky, which then, and indeed at all times, stood on our table. She now volunteered a song of her own composition ; and after finger- ing away in the most rapid style of manipulation on the edge of the table, as if upon her own spinnet in Philadelphia, she too took the key from Tickler's ready instrument, and chanted in recitativo what follows an anomalous kind of poetrv. VOL. I. 9 OS CHRISTOPHER IN THE TENT. CHAUNT. - BY MRS. TONE. T7ie Powldoodies of Burran* 1. J WONDER what the mischief was in me when a bit of my music I proffered ye ! How could any woman sing a good song when she's just parting with Morgan Odoherty ? A poor body, I think, would have more occasion for a comfortable quiet can, To keep up her spirits in taking lave of so nate a young man Besides, as for me, I'm not an orator like Bushe, Plunket, Grattan, or Curran,f So I can only hum a few words to the old chaunt of the Powldoodies of Bun-au.J Chorus. Oh! the Powldoodies of Burran, The green, green Powldoodies of Burran, The green Powldoodies, the clean Powldoodies, The gaping Powldoodies of Burran 1 2. I remember a saying o/ my Lore, ilorbury, that excellent Judge, | Says he, never believe what a man says to ye, Molly, for believe me 'tis all fudge He said it sitting on the Bench before the whole Grand Jury of Tipperary, If I had minded it, I haj Deen the better on't, as sure as my name's Mary"; I would have paid not the smallest attention, ye good-for-nothing elf ye, To the fine speeches that took me off my feet in the swate city of Philadelphy. Oh ! the Powldoodies of Burrau, ,.. 10G THE LAST DAY OF THE TENT. ground ; but his piece went off as he was leaping a cut in the heath and you see the consequences." " You're very good to put that face on't, Maister Sieward," murmured the poet, " but I'm no heedin aboot thae trifles the noo it was na in lowping a flow, nor naething o' that kind I ken na hoo it fell out, but I had taen just as good an aim, as I thought, as could be, and a' wheen bonny birds were just whirring afore mine een, but somegait my haund shook I'll never lippen til't nae mair an' beena with a pen or a keelavine and I ludgit the hail of my barrel in honest Hector Puir man ! little did ye think when ye stood there, with your tail like a ramrod puir fallow! oh ! I'll never see the like o' you." Here the Shepherd's agitation increased to such a height, that he ceased to be intelligible. " Cheer up, my dear fellow," quoth Dr. Parr, " cheer up humanum est errare suv TO -aavra xaroptav. It is of no use to indulge in these regrets, now the unfortunate occurrence has happened ; it cannot be undone x Xpovog 6 ztfavruv ztfar^p. Resign yourself do not prolong your suffering by keeping your departed favorite in your view ; let us bury Hector, and then your feelings may be more gentle, fxi^sri aa.iXTa.ivs ztfoprfiov It is done it is done let us dig the grave." " Most willingly," cried Buller and Seward both together ; and in a few minutes the corpse of the lamented colley was hid from the eyes of his master, by the replaced sod of the wilderness. " And now," says Parr, " must Hector lie there without an epitaph? such ingratitude would be abominable, atfoarTus-ov ' Ovde TI /j.oi xpaiGiniafv, avovraro^ uv ~ye, Ba/cuv ov -yap eyu OTTjdsaiv afj.' eopovv. IF. Q ZEIV', ayyetAov Ka/le(5-(af)-ovtoe deeiriv IL | Olim legebaic'', 'Q ZW, a-yfet^ov AaKeSatfiovioif, 6n tr/de Ksiu^a, roif neivuv Treidojievoi vo/iifioif. Hoc, quoad ductum literarurL caateraque in conjecturis criticis observari sueta, quam prope quod in textu dedimus Epigramma contingit ! En artem, qua ad doloris acrius urgeutis vim pleue exprimeudam tmesi facta, atque plorautis syllaba AI in niedio vocabulo inserta, poeta tantuni uon in fletum secum legentes abripiat! Decantatum istud de Matilda Pottinger poema, in quo, uullo ad aflfectum respectu habito, ottoioTSAevra (Anglic^ Rhyme) efficiendi causd verba quaedam intercisa sunt : e. g. Thou wast the daughter of my Tu- tor, Law Professor at the U- nivereity, PIOTTJ. uoipav 6' OVTL (j>vyeiv eopev. Haec ita correxeris : M7?(5c Ma.pa.TTuv EOTL OEUVTUV Travra Karopfiow Efj.6a-uv. Motpav / OVTI Qvyeiv eiropev. Quis hie poetam de rebus nuperrime in India gestis vaticinantem non depre- heuderit? nomen ipsum habes Marchionis illius, quern ducem Scotia nostra pau- cos abhinc annos suspexit, equitatus jam uunc Mahrattici hac iliac discurrentia victorem Britannia omnis suaque ipsius ]rne demiratur. Aliud item, ne diutius te teueam, poetae e longinquo quid esset futurum pros- picieutis exemplum accipe ; Drydeui uernpe versus biuos, in quibus homunculos vulgo dictos SPA- FIELDS REFOEMERS, ductoremque eorum famosum, quasi nomiua- tim designat: Better to hunt in fields for health unbought, Than fee the doctor form nauseous draught. ubi TO corruption opponitur vox health, eodera plane sensu quo salus populi su- prema lex esse dicitur ; TO unbought veuum exposita suffragia tangit ; the doctor procerem quemdam, ut ita dicam, with cunning (Qu ? Canning) finger indigitat ; TO draught denique (sono quidem atque Metaphora juxta neglectis) res aerarii forsau subobscure repicit, nisi quod vix tamen crediderim Huutii cerevisiarn fallacibus olim veneni herbis coucoctam vates innuat Videaut Angli annon euu- dem quern antea potum plebi propinandum 6 now offerat.* Neque si etyrnis nonnunquam primo viso tantum non ridendis usus esse videar succeusebunt mihi qui Bryantii TOV uaxapiTov, aliorumque e sectetoribus ejus tomos pervolverint ; qualia suut, e. g., quae sequuntur. * If Mr. Buller had passed from the Brewer to the Sportsman, he -would have found Henry Hunt, in one of his late letters, complaining of his Lancaster treatment expressing himself thus. " a week's shooting at Middleton cottage will set all to rights." In the meantime, we find him about to pass through London on his way, prepared, we suppose, in illustration of thi expression, like another Xerxes with his myriads TTfvde Tt}V TToAiV 6j]paaai (.fischyl. Peu 238), not, however, it may be feared, with the view of rendering it Ba0Y/lei mrjKOOf, (Ibid.) The word Orjpaffai, besides its obvious allusion, furnishes one of those deep and hidden senses which escape the vulgar eye. We may take its meaning from Herodotus aaydVEVHai Ttif cvftiHJGmc, 7itTov TOV -pr-yov. avTjp avfipof atyauEVOC r//f X 1 P (could there be a more H'st'iDt. enunciation of wi.at took place on the advent of THE* GREAT Kxowv at Manchester 7 ; fi;.a Giaaijf TIJC, vrjaa dteftfluai ^6r)pVOVT( rf avdpuxovf (vi.31.) But we are becoui ing quite a Buller C. N. 110 THE LAST DAY OF THE TENT. Idem vi' -re adagia, em ruv 6vax P (ri Kai j3/ia6epoif eirtxeipovvruv PIJ Trvp vTro-&a^,7rofievov) et 6. Aeovra waaeiv, apud Paroemiographum quemdam olim legisse me memiui. Hoc ita esse, vide, lector, quomodo ipse paucis leviter immutatis, via (ni multuin fallor) baud antd . trita probatum iverim. 1. Lege itaque, leni in a.iperum verso, 'Aiir TTJV fiaxatpav (HAY sc. J. P.) et babes nuperum, de in Com. Lancastr. tuuiultum luce ippa clarius descriptum. Minis forsan esset verbum premere, si in TW Majatpav Mane. Iron delitescere me suspi- cari affirmarem ; semi-graecisset licet lingua anglicana, et vox eiuxEipawTuv sic tandem propria sua siguificatione gavisura esse videatur Militum quippe Man- cuuieusium enses, qui quam fuerint 6vax pei( KO.I p/ia6epot omnibus fer6, a qua- cunque demiirn parte s.ent, in ore versatur. 2. KopuvTj TOV aKopTTiov quid sibi velit, jure quis dubitare possit. Addito p soluiu omuis statini diffieultas e medio tollitur. Kopuvyp (Batty, the Coroner) TOV aKopTuov, quern noxium quoddam animal esse (Qu ? Angl, a Harmer) quis non videt ? 3. Avayvpov Ktvetv, quod in Aristophane occurrit, vix ipse, aenigmatum hujusmodi apud recentiores ^Edipus, Erasmus expedivo'it ; cum auagyrum genium quoddan) fuisse barioletur, qui propter violatum ejus sacellum vicinos omnes fuuditiis ever- lit ! apage : non placet. Ego iravriyvpiv lego, sc. to disperse a Manchester mob utrum ev Keipevov (i. e. well-disposed) anon, penes alios judicium est futurum. 4. Vice Cineri substituas "fineri," pro Finerty (hoc euiin, quod aiunt nostrates, fit* to a T;) et plauuin fit omne, in quo antea ob teuebras circumfusaa offeudebatur. 5. Te(j>p?i iuterpreteris, peu6 ad literam, The F)-ee. 6. Deuique Aeovra woaetv quid proprie sit, non satis liquet : nisi per aphsere- sin pro NcnroAeovTa fuerit dictum, quern inter prospera quidem pupugisse m>n temere quivis ausus esseL Hujus ceram quo, dum foi-tuna fuit, iniiuici damuubun- tur, ver6 notavit Ovidius ; utpote quam - de loiigce collfctam flore cicufce Jlfelle sub iiifaini Corsica mixit apix* Nonne jam vides. ut haec omnia inter se coucinant ? SED MANUM QUOD AIUNT DE TABULA. ****** These lucubrations seemed to produce the happiest effect in the wounded spirit of the Shepherd. The grand solemn note in which the Doctor recited the beautiful Greek lines themselves riveted his attention, and delighted (how could it be otherwise?) his ear. But whether it was the physiognomy of the Doctor, or his voice, or his gesture, or all together, we know not. This much is certain, that the Shepherd seemed to be amused, at least, as much as any of us with the Nolae. The two or three vernacular vocables introduced afforded. perhaps, some little clue of the purport of the annotations at all events, he laughed considerably every time that Greek proper name Nszjrjpof was repeated in any of its cases. At the end he withdrew Anne hie ad Apin Deum, sc .Bgyptiorum, qualem se Dux iste Gallorum irapie profe>-;u st, aUuditur? S. P. TIMS SHOOTS DR. PAKE'S WIG. Ill arm in arm with Seward, probably in hopes of obtaining from him a more accurate account of what had been said by Mr. Buller about himself his dog and the transactions of the Royal Society. We overheard him saying, after a few minutes of colloquy with his oracle, and after three or four portentous cackles of returning merriment. " Od, man, the warst o't is, that the creature would never understand a line o't, even it was put intill the Magazine Lord safe ye ! he kens nae mair about Greek than mysel. There's some o' thae kind o' literary chiels about Edinburgh, that writes themselves esquires, and editors, and a' the lave o't, and yet kens very little mair, to ca' kenning really than a puir herd like what I was mysel they're blathering skytes a wheen o' them ; neither genius nor learning it's nae meikle wonder they mak but a puir hand o't." " Pooh !" said Seward, " he'll get somebody to translate it for him." " Go' aye," quoth Hogg, "gie Gray or Dunbar a dictionary, and a day or twa to consider o't, and I daur say they'll be able to gie him some ink- ling but I was clean forgetting mysel, he has naething to do, but to gang oureby and speer at Professor Christisin that Professor, they say, is a real scholar;* he'll interpret it as glegg as ye like. But Losh keep us a', there's Tims coming hame aw by his lain, and what's that he has gotten on the end o' his gun ?" Looking round in the direction indicated by Theocritus, we descried the Cockney at the distance of about 100 yards, advancing in a slow and dignified pace ; his piece carried high over his shoulders, and on the summit thereof a something, the genius and species of which were at this distance alike mysterious. " What t he deel's that y e've got- ten, callan !" cried the Shepherd (who, bj-the-way, had all along treated Tims and Price with unsufferable indelicacy). " My man. ye've had a fine morning's sport Is that a dead cat or a dirty sark ye're bringing haim wi' ye ?" " God knows what it is," said the Londoner, " or rather whose it is, for I believe, upon my honor, 'tis a parson's wig but I thought it was a ptarmigan, sitting on the bough of that there tree by the river side, and I brought it down ; but demme if it be'nt a wig." " You good-for-nothing little pert jacka- napes," vociferated Parr "You believe it to be a wig! and you took it to be a ptarmigan." . . . . " Come, come now, Doctor," inter rupted the Shepherd, "yemauna be owre hard on an inexperienced cauant Preserve us a' ! that beats all the wigs that ever I saw ! Lord ! what a gruzzle !".... Here the burst of laughter was such, that Dr. Parr found himself compelled to join in the roar ; and after the first peal was over, he begged pardon of the Cockney for the harsh terms he had employed in the most good-tempered style in the world. He of Ludgate Hill was sorely crest-fallen, but he * Dr. Christ isun, one of the Professors in the Faculty of Medicine in Edinburgh Univcr stir. M. 112 THE LAST DAY OF THE TENT. harbored no resentment, and all was soon peace and harmony, " This beats old Routh's quite to nothing, Buller," said Seward^ " -Egad, Seward," cries Buller, " there might be a blackbird's nest in every curl, and a rookery in the top frizzle. Burton's is but a baga- telle to this." " Enough, enough, my young friends," quoth the Doctor ; " my wig was pilloried long ago in the Edinburgh Review by Sidney Smith : it has now been shot through, and that by Mr Tims, on the banks of the Dee ; surely it is high time to give up its persecution. Leave it, leave it, to repose." " But hoo, in the name of wonder," cried Hogg, " did ye come to leave your wig in the bough o' a fir-tree what in a daft like doing was that ?" " Why, Mr. Hogg," answered the Bellendenian, with wonderful suavity, " when you're as old a man as I am, your faculties will not perhaps be quite so alert on all occasions ; you will perhaps learn to make blunders then as well as your neighbors. Be merciful, most illus- trious Shepherd ; I stripped myself, about two hours ago, to bathe in this beautiful river of yours, and hung my wig on the tree that was nearest me ; I forgot to take it down when my bath was over, and you see the consequence. Let's say no more about the matter, xaxov u xsijxsvov Mi. Seward." "Yes, yes," cried Buller, " py xivs JXTJ xivsi." Dr. Morris's servant was at hand ; at our suggestion the periwig was intrusted to his care, and in a few minutes it made its appearance on the sinister hand of that accomplished valet, in full puff and fuzz, apparently blooming only the more vigorously from the loppings it had sustained. Fifteen years ago, when James Hogg was tending sheep on the hills of Ettrick. what would a judicious person have thought of the man, who should have predicted, that the Shepherd was destined, in the book of fate, or some future day, to replace " the (isya. dau/xa of the literary world" on the head of the eulogist of the " Tria lumina Anglorum ?"* .Yet, with our own eyes have we beheld this thing. Dr. Parr " stooped his anointed head" to the author of the Queen's Wake, and that genuine bucolic, taking the wig from the hand of Tims, placed it with all the native dexterity of a man of genius, on the brows of Philopatris Varvicensis.f " Ma Aia," cries the Pre- bendary, " the old reproach, ztfoXufyuXXirrov illud ; the BOIWTIOJ 1$ has been nobly wiped away by this unlearned Theban. To speak with the immortal Casaubon, " Talia quis non amisisse vellet, per te deni- que, vir egregi recuperaturus." This weighty matter having beeu So Burke. Lord North, and Charles James Fox were designated, in Parr's Preface to Bellen- denus, who and this is mentioned for the special benefit of li the country gentleman," was Wil- liam Bellenden, a native of Scotland, who was educated at Paris, where he was Profe^or of Belles-Lettres in 1602. He wrote a work called Cicero Prinrrpx, which was published ;n KHJ- 1 , and afterwards included in his BtUcndenus de Statu, which Parr partly edited in 17-7.-M t Parr's residence. &'. Hatton, in Warwickshire, was about eighteen miles from Birminjrhan., and he published his Character of Fox under the nom-de-plume of Philopatris Varvicensis. M. BREAKFAST. 113 adjusted, we bowed the illustrious scholar into our Tent, and sat down at the head of the breakfast-table, with Dr. Parr on our right, and James Hogg on our left hand. Buller supported the preacher of the Spittal sermon,* and Seward was still the " fidus Achates" of the bard of Yarrow. At some distance sat Tims eyeing the rein stated wig, and mentally calculating the number of grains of shot which it now contained ; for, unlike a certain paper in the transac- tions of the Royal Society of Edinburgh, it was not made of impene- trable stuff. We are rusty in our Greek now-a-days, and could not help wishing that Dr. Search, that truly attic wit, had been present to whisper into our willing ear a little of his profound erudition. But we soon found, that at breakfast a great scholar, like 6 zffappof, rightly deemed that he had something else before him than Greek roots, and that the pleasantest of all tongues is that of the rein-deer. The Doctor is evidently not a man to pick a quarrel with his bread and butter ; and though we, Buller, and Hogg, ran him hard, he at last gained the plate. A Highland breakfast is sometimes too heavy a meal ; and the board is inelegantly crowded. But on the present oc- casion, we took for our guidance the old adage, Est modus in rebus, sunt certi denique fines, and ordered John Mackay on no account whatever to put on the table anything more than a couple of dozen of eggs, a mutton ham, a tongue, a cut of cold salmon, a small venison pasty, some fresh her- rings, a few Finnan haddies, a quartern loaf, oatmeal cakes, pease scones, barley bannocks, honey, jelly, jam, and marmalade ; so that one's attention was not likely to be distracted by a multiplicity of objects, and we all knew at once where to lay our hand on something comfortable. " Hah ! Buller, you dog," said the Doctor, between two enormous mouthfuls of broiled herring, superbly seasoned, under the guidance of our master Celt, with Harvey sauce and Cayenne, "jentaculum mehercule ipsi Montana ipsi Cripso invidendnm" " What say you, you dog 1 ' Such food is fit for disembodied spirits.' Good eating is not confined, as of old, intra centesimum lapidem ! ' A long and animated discussion ensued concerning the comparative merits of Rutupian and Kentish, or Gauran Mullets a favorite breakfast dish it seems with the Emperor Vitellius. When this wa? beginning to wax a little less vehement, and Parr had at last put his * There has long existed an endowment for having a sermon annually preached in Christ- Church, Newgate-street, London. This, which is called the Spittal Sermon, from the name of the person who bequeathed the amount, from which payment is made to the preacher, was de- livered by Dr. Parr in 1800, and published by him soon after, with voluminous notes. Parr, who was desultory in his writings, contrived to drag in Godwin's Political Justice, which then had recently been published ; and having attacked it, brought down upon himself a pamphlet, by Mr. Godwin, in which the divine was treated with less ceremony than he conceived him- Bt If entitled to. M. VOL. I. 10 114: THE LAST DAY OF THE TENT. tea-spoon into his seventh cup, to show that he had given in ; a ivjd noise was heard of shouting voices, and echoing bugles ; so, runr.jng hastily into the open air, we beheld a sight worthy of the mountains. The Thane, with his usual fine taste, had, by sunrise, escorted PRINCE LEOPOLD* to the forest, that he might partake of the Wild mirth of the desert, fit pastime for kings. And now many a hill-side was gleaming with his Celtic tenantry " All plaided and plumed in their tartan array," when a magnificent stag came bounding along, close by the Tent, pressed hard by those enormous hounds whose race is not yet extinct in the Highlands, and whose fierce and savage career in the chase carries back the mind to remote ages, " When the hunter of deer and the warrior trod O'er his hills that encircle the sea." As the " desert-boon" went by, " Wafting up his own mountains that far-beaming head," the heather was stained with his blood, for had he not been wounded he would soon have distanced his pursuers. It was delightful to observe the enthusiasm of the fine old man, when all the wild pomp of this mountain-chase hurried tumultuously by and to hear with what energy he repeated some of those majestic linjs of Virgil, descriptive of that hunt where Dido and ^Eneas shone. The feelings of Seward found quite a different form of expression. A fine animal by Diana " demme, Duller, if the scoundrel has not the horns of an Alderman." Tims startled at this simile, but said nothing, and probably re-lapsed into a dream of the Epping-Hunt, at which the stag is very conveniently made to jump out of the hinder parts of a wagon. Price joined the rout in his Surrey cap, and gave the whoop-holla with the lungs of a stentor, while Seward continued : " The Duke of Beaufort's hounds used to run down old Reynard. 'Prince Leopold, of Saxe-Coburs, now King of the Belgians, really was in Scot'and in September, 1819. He visited Sir Walter Scott, at Abbotsford. There is an amusing account, in one of Scott's letters to Lord Montagu, of the domestic anxiety which this visit caused at Abbotsford. The Prince, it seems, had come from Edinburgh to see " fair Melrose," which is close by the town of Selkirk. Scott, who was Sheriff of the county, attended at Selkirk to do the honors. ' The Prince very civilly told me," said he, ' that, though he could not see Mel- rose on this occasion, he wished to come to Abbotsford for an hour." There was no declimne the visit, but " adomiciliary search for cold meat, through the whole city of Selkirk, producec one shoulder of cold lamb." However, with broiled salmon, and black cock, and partridges, a lunch was made out, and Scott adds : " I chanced to have some very fine old hock, which was mighty germane to the matter." In 1SI9 much sympathy was felt for Prince Leopold. In May, lrtl, he had married the Princess Charlotte, daughter of George IV., who had fallen in love with him at a time when his worldly property was only 300 a year. They lived rno!-t happily until November, l17, when the Princess Charlotte unexpectedly died, after her ac- couchement. The national grief for her loss was deep beyond parallel, and great was the sym- pathy for Leopold in his bereavement. The marriage of the late Duke of Kent with Prince Leopold's sister (of which Queen Victoria is the sole surviving issue) would probably not hav<) tnken place (in ISld), if there had not betn the previous family connexion created, by :he I'rincess Charlotte's union with Leopold. M. PRINCE LEOPOLD'S VISIT. 115 breast-high all the time, in twenty minutes and Parson Simmons' pack were not so much amiss, though the field indeed was rather raffish but the Grand Signor yonder would leave them all behind poor devil, he is never again to revisit his seraglio." All the world has read the Lady of the Lake, and he who has to/ gotten the description of the Stag-chase in that poem, may be assured, that had he been born when mankind were in the hunter-state, he must have died of hunger. It may be just as well not to do over again any thing that it has pleased Walter Scott to do ; and there- fore, should any of our readers be tired of us, let them turn to Fitz- James and his gallant Grey. Now, as of old, A PRINCE was on the mountain-side, and while the wild cries of the Highlanders echoed far and wide, from rock to rock over that sublime solitude, as every glen sent pouring down its torrents of shouting hunters, LEOPOLD must have felt the free spirit of ancient days brooding over the desert, and what true glory it is to be loved and honored by the unconquered people of the mountains of Caledonia. The tumult at length faded away far up among the blue mists that hung over the solitary glen of the Linn of Dee. We found our- selves deserted in our Tent. Even Dr. Parr had strayed away among the rocks in search of some watch-tower, from which he might yet catch a glimpse of the skirts of the vanished ariay. But the noble Thane had not been neglectful of us. A strong band of the finest Highlanders that could be selected from the population of his immense estates, with many too of the Grants and Gordons, came, bonnets waving, plaids flying, and pipes sounding, to the Tent, to form a guard of honor to receive THE PRINCE, not unworthy the flower of the House of Saxony. They immediately disposed them- selves in the most picturesque positions among the wild scenery round the. Tent one band cresting a rocky eminence with a gorgeous diadem of scarf and plume another seen indistinctly lying as in ambush ?mong the high bloom of the heather and a third, drawn up as in order of battle, to salute LEOPOLD on his arrival with a dis- charge of musketry. Meanwhile pipes challenged pipes, and pibrochs and gatherings resounded like subterraneous music from o hundred echoing hills. By the munificence of the THANE our table had been furnished up with a splendor fit for the reception of a PRINCE and just as all the arrangements were finished, we saw the noble party descending a steep, and advancing straightway to the Tent. To our delight and astonishment a bevy of fair ladies joined the train ere it reached the banks of the Dee; and, as if suddenly built by magic, a little plea- sure-boat, beautifully painted, rose floating on that transparent river, into which Prince, Lord, and Lady, lightly .stepped, and in a few minutes they stood on the greensward before our Tent. 116 THE LAST DAT OF THE TENT. John of Sky Lord Fife's own piper and several others, ble\t up that well-known pibroahd (Phailt Phrase), or Prince's welcome, that made the welkin ring, while two hundred Highlanders, in the gart of old Gaul, with bonnets waving in the air, gave " That thrice-repeated cry, In which old Alpin's heart and tongue unite, Whene'er her soul is up, and pulse beats high, Whether it hail the wiue-cup or the fight, And bid each arm be strong, or bid each heart be liglit." A discharge of musketry from the guard of honor followed well those proud huzzas, and when the din ceased, nothing was heard but the wild ciy of the eagle wheeling in disturbed circles far up in the sky. The Standard-bearer* advanced to receive PRINCE LEOPOLD, who, in the most gracious manner declared what " high satisfaction it gave him thus to visit our Tent, and that he would have the pleasure of staying dinner." Nothing could exceed the graceful affability of the Marchioness of Huntlyf and her fair friends, who, after expressing their delight with our characteristic reception of the Prince, and their admiration of our Tent and all its arrangements, withdrew under the protection of the Thane, who soon, however, returned again to the scene of festivity. Every moment stragglers kept coming in, till the whole party was complete, and we sat down in the Tent to a feast which it would be endless to describe, consisting of every delicacy from air, flood and field, and enriched with all generous and mighty wines in cup and goblet, from the ancient catacombs of Mar-Lodge.i The presence of our ILLUSTRIOUS GUEST, so justly dear to the " soul of this wide land," shed a calm and dignified tranquillity throughout the Tent and the feelings then awakened in the hearts of us all will cease only when those hearts shall beat no more. During dinner PRINCE LEOPOLD sat on our right hand, and Lord Huntly on our left, while Wastle, who acted as croupier, had the honor of being supported by Baron Addenbroke and the Thane. The Prince, the moment he recognized Dr. Parr, requested him, with the most affectionate respect, to sit by him; and Lord Huntly, | remarking that the highest of all rank was that conferred by genius, took the * Odoherty. M. t Now Duchess of Gordon, residing at Huntly Lodge. Aberdeenshire. M. t The Earl of Fife's Shooting Lodge. It is close to Balmoral, the Scottish residence of Queen Victoria. .M. || Afterwards Duke of Gordon. On his death, in 1837, without legitimate male issue, the Dukedom and most of the estates went to hisnext-of-kin, the present Duke of Richmond, and the Karl of Aboyne, another relative, succeeding to his second title, became Marquis of Huntly. This last was a character, and died in June 1853. at the advanced age of ninety-two, actually continuing to the last, tr act as aide-de-camp to the Queen. His affectation of youth, almost to hi.- dying day, wa- curious. The faded beau, described in Gil Bias, who daily rose an eld man, ana was made up, after a three hours' toilette, into the semblance of a young Lothario, waa somewhat like the Marquis of Huntly, who, however, even went to the extremity of wearing cork plumpers in his mouth, to swell out his cheeks, which had fallen in from age ! At the asre ui'-T, 1 saw him dance a. polka, and his affectation of juvenility would have been aimifing, if, lj contrast, it were not almost painful. M. KIT NORTH'S SPEECH. 117 Ettnck Shepherd by the hand, and kindly seated him between him* , self and Mr. Seward. Every one, in short, being proud and happy, was placed to his mind and time flew so swiftly by, that the cloth was removed before we had found leisure to revolve in our mind a few words of address on rising to propose the HEALTH OF THE PRINCE REGENT.* " Little would it coincide with our ideas of propriety to enlarge at any considerable length upon topics not immediately suggested by the proper object of our meeting, far less upon any, concerning which it might be possible that any difference of opinion, or of sentiment, should be found among those who have this day the honor of being assembled in this distinguished presence. It is not possible, however, that we should proceed, in these circumstances, to propose the health of the actual sovereign of these islands the Prince Regent of Eng- land without prefacing a few words concerning those rumors of disturbance and disaffection.! of mad and rancorous outrage against the peace of this great empire, and of elaborate insult against all those institutions by which the prosperity of that empire has hitherto been maintained and balanced rumors which reach our ears with an effect of so much strange and portentous mystery here among these regions of lonely magnificence, where the primitive loyalty of the Scottish mountaineer is still as pure as the air which he inhales. Througnout by far the greater part of these rich and mighty realms we nothing question the loyal affection and reverence of our fellow- subjects are as deep and as secure but the tidings of these things cannot fail to be heard with emotions of new wonder and new disgust, amidst scenes, where the happiness and repose of a virtuous, high- * In 1811, -when insanity had disqualified George III. from governing Great Britain, his eldest son, the Prince of Wales, was appointed Regent, in which capacity he continued until January, 1820, when he succeednd to the throne, as George IV. M. Something more than simple ' rumor of disturbance" existed in the autumn of 1819. magistrates and Yeomanry of Manchester, for their later than the middle of August, 1819, the fatal affray at Manchester could scarcely have been known in Edinburgh. If it had, no doubt Christopher North would have been delighted to praise the Manchester Yeomanry. M. 11 S THE LAST DAY OF THE TENT. spirited, and noble race, have never yet been disturbed, even by tne thought or the suspicion of any of those wild and vicious theories, which, in most of the other districts of the empire, have now, we fear, some profligate advocates and some miserable dupes. My Lords and Gentlemen, It is indeed high time that these things should cease to be spoken of, with any difference of language, by any conscientious adherents of either of those great political parties, whose existence as such is perhaps a necessary consequence of the nature of our constitu- tion, and a necessary mean of its preservation. It is high time that they whose education enables them to look at the troubles of the present, through the clear, steady, and impartial medium of the past, should see the necessity of combining, with head, heart, and hands, to repress, with a decision in which there must be at least as much of compassion as of justice, the encroachments of this frenzied spirit, which has its only existence and support in the desperate depravity of a few pestilent demagogues men alike bankrupts in fortune, principle, and character and in the rashness with which the ignorant and the weak listen to the audacious brutality of their treason and their blasphemy. " Ours, gentlemen, is not the only country wherein ages of happi- ness and loyalty have been suddenly disturbed by the plebeian preachers of anarchy and confusion. The Woolers, the Watsons, the Harrisons, the Wolseleys, the Burdetts, the Hobhouses* all have had their prototypes, both in ancient and in modern times and the characters of all of them have been described, even to their minutest shadings, by writers, with whom some of themselves must be not imperfectly acquainted. Of all these, however, the importance seems now to ,be on the wane and the shout of vulgar acclamation waits only, in its utmost violence, upon one, whom, . but a few short months ago, the greater part even of these would have regarded with any feelings rather than those of serious jealousy and anxious emulation. Yet it is well that the choice of the rabble has at last fallen upon one for whom even the rabble cannot long remain without contempt. In their present demi-god these misnamed patriots have found a leader, who answers, in all things, to the prophetic minuteness of the Roman historian's description, Summce audacice egens -factiosus : * Radical leaders in 1819. Wooler was editor and publisher of a weekly paper called the Yellow Dwarf, one peculiarity of which was, that, being himself a compositor, he setit up without ' copy," his mind and his composing-stick being at work together. Watson had been tried for high-treason, and acquitted ; but, on a subsequent charge being made, found safety in flight to the United States. About Harrison I know nothing. Sir Charles Wolseley waa a baronet, with large landed estates in Staffordshire, who so strongly advocated Parliamentary Reform, that he allowed himself to be returned, by a radical meeting at Birmingham (which was not directly represented until 1832), as Legislative Attorney for that town, but actually- attempting to take his seat in Parliament in that capacity, was arrested, indicted, tried, con- victed, fined, and imprisoned all of which moderated his future political conduct. Sir Fran- cis Burdett closed his liberal career by joining the Tory party. Hobhouse, ^v> came infc: Parliament from Westminster as an extreme radical, settled down into a placeman, and is now i peor. ML HENEY HUNT. 119 ad perturbandam Rempublicam Inopia simul atque Mali Mores \timulaverunt. ITiere wants not one iota to complete the resem- blance, except only some tincture of that noble blood which was never so debased and degraded as in the person of the Roman Cata- Une the total absence of which, however, and of all that it implies, lends even a more odious air of abomination to the rough and unvar- nished ferocity of his English rival.* " When the poor are in distress, God forbid that they should not share the pity, and feel the helping hand of their superiors. When the poor and the ignorant are led astray, God forbid that compas- sion should not be the first and last feeling on the minds of men who have enjoyed opportunities for reflection very different from those which can be afforded to their weak and untrained spirits, amidst their only leisure, the idleness of calamity. But God forbid, also, and the prayer we would fear is more a necessary than a frequent one that we should suffer ourselves, from any mistaken or misdi- rected sympathies, to learn the lesson of regarding, without a just and unswerving feeling of abhorrence, the characters of those who make their sport of the poverty, and their prey of the ignorance of the vulgar. The worst of all the bad symptoms which meet our eyes, in the narratives of the late melancholy transactions, is the daily in- creasing urbanity of the terms in which the authors of all this evil are spoken of by the compilers of these narratives. It is a sad thing indeed, when the souls of those that are or ought to be enlightened, betray, on such momentous crises as these, any stains of that dark- ness which it is of right their -vocation to dispel, and of which, above all things, it behoved them to have rejected and scorned the contam- ination. Let there be no foolish gentleness toward those who fight against all that is good no mad courtesy for those who would de- stroy all that is noble. Let all that have any claim to the name of gentleman be anxious to keep their spirits pure from the very vestige of this degradation. In this hour of darkness let all stand together. In this hour of battle for the word is not too strong in itself, nor the less applicable, because the contest to which it refers is more one * Henry Hunt, the person here alluded to, was a very popular demagogue for several years ; but having sat in parliament in Is30-'31, was such a mere nobody in that assembly, that his constituents did not re-elect him. It is recorded that he made one hit in the House of Com- mons. He was a man of considerable landed property, inherited from his ancestors, when he entered public life, but ''the broad acres" had gradually slipped through his fingers, and he entered into business for a livelihood, first as a brewer, and afterwards as a vender of burnt corn (or an untaxed substitute for coffee, and called " Hunt's Breakfast Powder.) and then as a manufacturer of Blacking. William Peel brother-in-law to Sir Robert, was in Parliament when Hunt sat there. The Peel family, although possessing immense wealth, made as man- ufacturers, had sprung from nothing as far as ' birth" was concerned. Peel alluded, some- what rujjely, to Hunt's blacking, insinuating that Hunt was not a gentleman. The reply was brief and sufficient. Hunt rose, and fixing his eyes on Peel, said, " The honorable mem ber has alluded to my business, and spoke of the difference of our respective stations. Let me tell him what that difference is. I am the first of my family whoever was engaged in trade. He is one of the first of his who could afford to lay clam* from wealth only, to the rank of g-niiemaii. " Hunt sat down, applauded on all sides, an 1 William Peel did notagt.n rrovolt* him. M. 120 THE LAST DAT OF TI1E TENT. of principles than of inen in this hour of battle let us all rally around those old banners, which have for so many ages been our guides to victory, and our ornaments in repose. THE PRINCE REGENT." We ought perhaps to beg our readers' pardon for the seeming vanity of recording this little address; but we feel assured that no such apology will be necessary for inserting the words of a song, with which our friend Mr. Wastle was good enough to preface the next toast on our list. It is needless to add, that this was the health and prosperity of our Royal Guest. SONG, BY MR. WASTLE, On Proposing the Health of H. R. H. PRINCE LEOPOLD. L LOOK, oh ! look from the Bower 'tis the beautiful hour When the sunbeams are broad ere they sink in the sea ; Look, oh ! look from the Bower for an amethyst shower Of grandeur and glory is gemming the Dee ; While the mountains arise more sublime in the skies, 'Mid that lustre of mildness, majestic and clear, And the fiiee of Ihe4and seems in smiles to expand Surely Natu-e proclaims that a Festival's here. II. Let your guolets be crowned like the sky and the ground, With a light that is bright as their purple may be ; Let your goblets be crowned, like aH Nature around, To welcome our Prince in the vale of the Dee. Fill, fill ye with wine, fill your goblets like mine. Till the rich foam be ready to gush o'er the brim, And let thoughts, sad and high, 'mid your raptures be by, While the stream of devotion flows radiant for Him. 111. What though rarely the sod of Green Albyn be trod By the feet of a Prince Nay, though ages have sped Since the eye of a King lias adventured to fling One beam on these hills where his fathers were bred ;* Like the flower of the North, which, when winter comes forth Blooms secure and unseen, 'neath her garment of snow So our Faith, undefiled, is still fresh in the wild, Amidst dullness to bud, and in darkness to blow. IV. Oh ! glad was the day when her snow fell away, And the softness of spring again mantled her sky ; And her beauty shone out with the old Scottish shout, That proclaimed to our mountains the Saxon was nigh. * In August, 1822. Scotland was visited by George IV , who ha-J gone to Ireland and Hano- er in the preceding autumn. M. HOGG'S SONG. 121 Not the less we adore the Red Lion of yore, That alone on the Scutcheon of Albyn was seen, Because England and Erin are mixed in the bearing, And the shield where the dark bend is wreathed with the green. V. With our loyalty's gladness, some breathings of sadness . Have been heard and our smiles have been mixed with a tear; But perhaps the warm heart but ennobles its part, When in Sympathy's guise it bids Homage appear. Take our hearts as they are 'mid the heaths of Braemar, And remember, when deep flows the dark purple wine, That the Hill and the Glen would be proud once again, To pour for their Princes the blood of their line. We must not repeat the handsome terms in which thanks were re- turned for our own speech and the song of our friend suffice it to say, that, after a most animated conversation of a political cast had been sustained for some time by several ingenious and ardent interlocu- tors, the Thane of Fife rose (the occasion was on his own health being proposed from the chair), and hinted, in his usual elegance of style and manner, that the illustrious Prince who had condescended to become our visitor, would be fully more gratified should we thenceforth dismiss these topics which, however treated, could not fail to have something of a formal air and effect and resume in full and entire freedom our own usual strain of amusement. In short, his Lordship as well as the Prince wished to see the doings of the Tent in their own simple and unsophisticated essence. We lost no time in obeying this hint and by way of breaking the ice for a descent into the regions of perfect mirth and jollity, we called on the Ettrick Shepherd to sing, with the accompaniment of the bag-pipe, one of those wild and pathetic ballads of which his genius has been so creative. Those who have had the pleasure of being in company with the Shepherd, know full well what deep and gentle pathos, and, at the same time, what light and playful graceful- ness, are to be found in the notes of his unrivalled voice, and will not need to be told what effect he produced upon the whole company, by the following exquisite strain ! I PITY YOU, YE STARS SO BRIGHT, kc. I PITY you, ye stars so bright That shine so sweetly all the night, Beaming ever coldly down On rock and river, tower and town, Shining so lonely. I pity you, ye stars so brigbt, That shine so sweetly all the night, With your rays of endless glee, On the wide and silent sea, Shining so lonely. 122 THE LAST DAY OF THE TENT. I pity you, ye stars so bright While I'm with Anna all the night, Thro' the cold blue sky ye rove, Strangers to repose and love, Shining so lonely. I pity you, ye stars so bright, And Anna pities you to-night, What a weary way you've been Since yon first balmy kiss yestreen, Shining so lonely 1 This song was succeeded by a round of toasts, of which our memory has preserved only the following, viz : 1. The Author of Waverley by Prince Leopold. 2. Mr. Alison by Mr. Wastle. 3. The Bishop of St Davids, the uu wearied and enlightened friend of Wales by Dr. Morris. 4. Professor John Young, of Glasgow, the great Grecian of Scotland by Dr Parr. 5. The Right Hon. Robert Peel, the Member for Oxford by Mr. Seward. 6. Charley Bushe, the most admirable Judge, the most eloquent speaker and the most delightful companion in Ireland by Mr. Odoherty. 7. Mr. Davison, of Oriel, the star of Isis by Mr. Buller. 8. The Rev. Francis Wrangham, the star of Cam. by the Editor. 9. The young Duke of Buculeugh and may he live to be as great a blessing to Ettrick as his father by the Shepherd. 10. Counsellor Ellis by Mr. Tickler. 11. Lord Byron by Dr. Scott 12. Dr. Chalmers by BaillieJarvie. 13. Mr. John Kemble by Mr. John Ballantyne. 14. The Earl of Fife (to whose turn the toast, by some accident, was long of coining round) paid us the elegant and classical compliment of proposing the iiealth of our excellent Publishers, Messrs. Blackwood, Cadell, and Davies* three times three to which (ueed we add ?) the whole of the company gladly assented. Dr. Parr was the first to hint his wish for another song and called loudly upon Buller of Brazennose, who, after a little hesita- tion, took courage, and told the Doctor if he had no objection he would give him an old Oxford strain. " By all means, you dog,*' quoth the Bellendenian " I remember the day when I could sing half the Sausagef myself." THE FRIAR'S FAREWELL TO OXFORD. To the Tune of "Green Sleeves." 1. T' OTHKU night, as I passed by old Anthony-wood, I saw Father Green in a sorrowful mood Astride on a stone, beside Magdalene gate, He lamented o'er Oxford's degenerate state; * Cadell and Davies were the London agents for the sale of Blatkwood.M. f A collection of songs, chants, and other college versicles, entitled " The Oxford Sau- Mge. A like collection, elsewhere, is " Xte Cambridge Tart." M. THE FRIAR'S FAREWELL. 123 The beer he had swallowed had opened his heart. And 'twas thus to the winds he his woes did impart. With a heigh ho ! &a 2 " Oh, Oxford ! I leave thee and can it be true ? I accept of a living ? I bid thee adieu ? Thou scene of my rapture, in life's early morn, Ere one pile of soft lambskin my back did adorn When sorrows came rarely, and pleasures came thick, And my utmost distress was a long-standing tick. With a heigh ho ! ev ! &OGJOI ! i2 ! But come ! there's one rival I don't see about her, I mean the spruce tutor, her townsman Fitzjamea; For though of the two I believe I'm the stouter, His legs are much neater, much older his claims. Yet every Christ-church blade Swears I have won the maid ; Every one, Dean and Don, swears it is so. Honest Lloyd blunt and bluff, Levett, and Goodenough All clap my back and cry, " Ilhoderick's her beau P Come, then, your influence propitious be shedding, Gnomes of Greek metre ! since crowned are my hopes ; Waltz in Trochaic time, waltz at my wedding, Nymphs who preside over accents and tropes 1 Scourge of false quantities, Ghost of Hephaestiou rise, Haply to thee my success I may owe. Sound then the Doric string, All, all in chorus sing, Joy to Hephaestion, black Rhoderick T a prince of worthy fellows, | and a pretty man also, That has left the Salttnarket | in sorrow, grief, and woe. Oh ! we ne'er shall see the like of Captain Paton no mo 1 2. His. waistcoat coat, and breeches, were all cut off the same web, Of a beautiful snuff-color, | or a modest genty drab ; The blue stripe in his stocking | round his neat slim leg did go, And his ruffles of the Cambric fine | they were whiter thau the soovr. Oh 1 we ne'er shall see the like of Captain Paton no mo ! * Captain Paton's Lament, which has been a popular song in Scotland since it fin 1 , was chanted in the Tent, wa written by Mr. Lockhart. M. THE BISHOP'S CHANT. 127 3. His hair was curled in order, | at the rising of the sun, In comely rows and buckles smart | that about his ears did run ; And before there was a toupee | that some inches up did grow, And behind there was a long queue | that did o'er his shoulders flow. Oh ! we ne'er shall see the like of Captain Paton no mo ! 4. And whenever we foregathered, be took off his wee three-cockit, And he proffered you his snuff-box, which he drew from his side pocket. And on Burdett or Bonaparte, he would make a remark or so, And then along the plainstones like a provost he would go. Oh ! we ne'er shall see the like of Captain Paton no mo 1 5. In dirty days he picked well | his footsteps with his rattan, Oh 1 you ne'er could see the least speck | on the shoes of Captain Paton And on entering the Coffee-room | about two, all men did know, They would see him with his Courier | in the middle of the row. Oh 1 we ne'er shall see the like of Captain Paton no mo 1 6. Now and then upon a Sunday | he invited me (o dine, On a herring and a mutton-chop | which his maid dressed very fine: There was also a little Malmsey, and a bottle of Bourdeaux, Which between me and the Captain passed nimbly to and fro. Oh ! I ne'er shall take pot-luck with Captain Paton no mo ! 7. Or if a bowl was mentioned, the Captain he would ring, And bid Nelly run to the West-port, and a stoup of water bring ; Then would he mix the genuine stuff, as they made it long ago, With limes that on his property in Trinidad did grow. Oh ! we ne'er shall taste the like of Captain Paton's punch no mo 1 8. And then all the time he would discourse | so sensible and courteous, Perhaps talking of the last sermon | he had heard from Dr. Porteous Or some little bit of scandal j about Mrs so and so, Which he scarce could credit, having heard | the con but not the pro. Oh 1 we ne'er shall hear the like of Captain Paton no mo l 9. Or when the candles were brought forth, and the night was fairly setting in, He would tell some fine old stories about Minden-field or Dettiugen How he fought with a French major, and despatched him at a blow, While his blood ran out like water on the soft grass below. Oh 1 we ne'er shall hear the like of Captain Paton no mo ! 10. But at last the Captain sickened | and grew worse from day to day, And all missed him in the Coffee-room | from which now he stayed away ; On Sabbaths, too, the Wee Kirk | made a melancholy show, All for wanting of the presence | of our venerable 'beau. Oh 1 we ne'er shall see the like of Captain Paton no mo I 128 THE LAST DAY OF THE TENT. 11. And in spite of all that Cleghorn j and Corkindale could do, It was plain, from twenty symptoms ] that death was in his view ; So the Captain made his test'ment, and submitted to his foe, And we layed him by the Rams-horn-kirk 'tis the way we all must go. Oh 1 we ne'er shall see the like of Captain Paton no mo 1 12. Join all in chorus, jolly boys, and let punch and tears be shed, For this prince of good old fe'lows, that alack a-day ! is dead; For this prince of worthy fellows, and a pretty man also, That has left the Saltmarket in sorrow, grief, and woe ! For it ne'er shall see the like of Captain Patou no mo I At the conclusion of this song, which, to those who know the voice, taste, and execution of the gentleman who sung it, we need not say gave general delight, Prince Leopold, who had attentively listened to it with the most gracious smile, arose, and saying, " that it was wise for friends to part in a mirthful moment," with the utmost benignity bade us all farewell. At this very moment, Mr. Tims (who was long ere now as bowsy as a fly in a plate of " quassia,") jumped upon his chair in order to attract our notice, and insisted upon singing " SCOTS wiiA HAE wi' WALLACE BLED;" but the Shepherd frowned with such a deadly darkness at the suggestion, that the Cockney lost not a moment in resuming his former posture. " Aye, aye, that's richt," said the Shepherd, " saufus only to think o' ROBERT THE BRUCE acted by TIMS !" As our Illustrious Visitor and his Noble Friends withdrew, the pipes slowly and solemnly played " Farewell to Lochaber ;" a.id our Tent seemed, at their departure, quite melancholy and forlorn. We soon retired to repose, but not to sleep ; for all night long the High- land host kept playing their martial or mournful tunes, and the> voices of distant ages seemed, in the solitary silence of the midnight desert, restored to the world of life. We felt, that with such a gloricu < day our reign in the Highlands nobly terminated, and we gave oruers bj sunrise to strike the Tent, exclaiming, in the words of Milton, " TO-MORROW FOR FRESH FIELDS AND PASTURES NEW." lloctcs NO. L MARCH, 1822. CHRISTOPHER NORTH, Esquire, solus. Enter Ensign MORGAN ODOHERTY. Editor. I am glad to see you, Odoherty. I am heartily glad of the interruption. I won't write any more to-night. I'll be shot if I write a word more. Ebony may jaw as he pleases. The Number will do well enough as it is. If there is not enough, let him send his devil into the Balaam-box.* Odoherty. I have just arrived from London. Editor. From London ? The Fleet, I suppose. How long have you lain there 1 Odoherty. I have been out these three weeks. I suppose, for any thing you would have advanced, I might have lain there till Kingdom- come. Editor. I can't advance money for ever, Adjutant. You have not sent me one article these four months. Odoherty. What sort of an article do you want ? A poem ? Editor. Poems ! There's poetry enough without paying you for it. Have you seen Milman's new tragedy ?f Odoherty. No ; but I saw the proofs of a puff upon it for the next * The Balaam-box, -which is repeatedly referred to in The Noctes, was supposed to contain a variety of articles, from voluntary contributors, as well as from the usual writers in the Maga- zine. Mr. Blackwood received the sobriquet of Ebony from a pun upon his name, which ori- ginated in the " Chaldee Manuscript," where he was spoken of a man whose " name was as it had been the color of ebony." M. t " The Martyr of Antioch. a dramatic poem, by the Rev. H. H. Milman," was published by John Murray, of London, in March, 1822. At that time Milman was Professor of Poetry in the University of Oxford. He had written a prize poem when he was an under-graduate. In 1SI7 he produced the tragedy of ' Fazio," in which Miss O'Neill sustained the part of the heroine. This play retains its place in the Acted Drama. " Samor, Lord of the Bright City." a heroic poem in twelve books, appeared in 1818. "The Fall of Jerusalem," and ' Anna Boleyne T ' were followed by ''The Martyr of Antioch" and "Belshazzar." Milman has contributed largely to the Quarterly Review, edited Gibbon's Decline and Fall, and written a History of the Jews, and other serious works. He entered the Church in Ittl7, had a good vicarage at Reading, whence he removed to the rectory at St. Margaret's (the church which adjoins West- . . VOL. L 11 130 NOCTES AMTJROSIAN2E. Quarterly. He's a clever fellow, but they cry him too high. The report goes, that he is to step into Gifford's shoes one of these days.* Editor. That accounts for the puffing ; but it will do a really clevor fellow, like Milman, no good. Odoherty. It will, Mr. North. I know nobody that puffs more lustily than yourself now and then. What made you puff Procterf- so much at first ? Editor. It was you that puffed him. It was an article of your own, Ensign. Odoherty. By Mahomet's mustard-pot, I've written so much, I don't remember half the things I've done in your own lubberly Mag- azine, and elsewhere. At one time I wrote all Day and Martin's poetry. They were grateful. They kept the whole mess of the 44th in blacking. Editor. Then you wrote the Jfo/7rf, did not you ? Odoherty. I never heard of such a thing. They've been quizzing you, old boy. Impostors are abroad. Editor. Then somebody has been sporting false colors about town. Odoherty. Like enough. Set a thief to catch a thief. Editor. You've been writing in Colburn, they say, Master Mor- gan ? Odoherty. Not one line. The pretty boys have applied to me a dozen times, but I never sent them any answer except once, alid then it was an epigram on themselves. Editor. Let's hear it. Odoherty. Now, by Jupiter ! I have forgotten the beginning of it. I think it was something like this : Colburn, Campbell, and Co. write rather so so, But atone for 't by puff and profession Every month gives us scope for the Pleasures of Hope, But all ends in the Pains of Possession. Editor. How do they get on ? Heavily, Ensign ? Odoherty. D heavily ! They lay out a cool hundred on adver- tisements every month ; but Campbell does very little at least so it is to be hoped and the Subs are no great shakes. J They have a * Milman would never hav? done justice to the Quarterly Revitw ; his profse is deficient n force and terseness. The present Sir John T. Coleridge, now one of the Judges of the Queen's Bench in England, edited the Quarterly in the brief interval between Gilford's retirement and Lock hart's accession. M. t Procter, who was Byron's schoolfellow at Harrow, assumed the nom de plume of Barrjr Cornwall, when he published his first volume of Dramatic Ske tragedy called Mirandola, played in 1821, at Covent Garden Theat Fiood of Thessaly, a Life of Edmund Kean (which was severely c a variety of songs, many of which are admirable, complete the lis magazine articles, which have been collected in this country (bu published as his " Essays and Tales in Prose." As a song-write ekes, in 1815. He wrote a e. Marcian Colonna, The iticised in Blackwood). and of his writings except hig not yet in England), and , vigorous, yet delicate, in thought and expression. Procter has won a name " the world will not willingly let die." M. t Campbell, the poet, edited Colburn's JVeio Monl/iJy Magazinr, from 1S2I to Ib3l, at 5(W pei annum, with separate payment, as a contributor,' lor all articles by himself. This im- LITERARY GOSSIP. 131 miserable set of bullaboos about them broken- winded dominies, from the manufacturing districts, and so forth. Even Hazlitt does the drama better. Editor. O, Hazlitt's a real fellow in his small way. He has moiv, sense in his little finger, than many who laugh at him have in their heads, but he is bothering too long at that table-talk. Odoherty. Proper humbug ! Editor. Did you see any of the Cockneys ? What's the gossip about Murray's, Ridgeway's,* and so forth ? Did you make a tour of the shops ? Odoherty. Of course I went round them all with a bundle of discarded articles you gave me to line my trunk with, when I went to the moors last year. I passed myself off for a country clergyman, wanting to publish a series of essays. I said I had a wife and seven small children. Editor. You have some tolerably big ones, I believe. Odoherty. Which you never will have, old boy. The booksellers are a very civil set of fellows : Murray took me into a room by my- self, and told me of the row between him and the Divan. Editor. What row 1 and with whom ? Odoherty. Why, they call Murray Emperor of the West, and Longman and Company the Divan. They've fallen out about Mother Rundell's book upon cookery. I told Kitchener the next day, that I thought his own book as good a one.f Editor. Shameless fellow ! Don't you remember how you cut it up ? I wonder you could look the doctor in the face. Odoherty. By jing ! he thought I was a doctor myself. I had a black rose in my hat, and talked very wisely about the famous mis- take touching a Mr. Winton of Chelsea. I'll tell you about that, too, some other time.J roense payment, in fact, was for his name. The Magazine -was actually edited by Cyrus Red- ding (whose later Recollections of Campbell and Beckford are full of interest and truth), and the dramatic criticism was supplied, for many jears. by T. N. Talfourd (afterwards one of the Judges of the Court of Common Pleas in England), so well known, subsequently, as the author of " Ion." M. * What Murray's, in Albemarle-street, was for Tory literati and politicians in London a pleasant lounging place, where public affairs, books, and personal gossip, supplied the conver- sation Ridgeway's, in Piccadilly, was for the Whigs. To this hour, both places retain thi distinctive character. M. t In Dr. Kitchener's " Cook's Oracle'' there was a boast, that every receipt in it had been tried by the author and his friends, might have been added, for he was right hospitable, in his snug house close toFitzroy-Square, and was pleasantly addicted to giving charming dinner- parties at which the number of the guests was regulated on the classic rule, " Not less than the Graces, nor more than the Muses." At these entertainments, which Theodore Hook frequently attended, judgment was solemnly passed upon the Doctor's gastronomic inventions or im- provements since the last repast. Sometimes, it is true, opinions would be balanced (particu- larly if the dinner was very good, and the party very agreeable), and the Doctor would then invite the same party for that day week, in order to give the culinary treasure another trial. All his receipts were treasures if his own report were to be credited. He was a clever, well- informed man, who gracefully rode his hobbies all but one. He had invented a digestive pill, 'yclept the Perisaltic Persuader, and sometimes would insist on coaxing his guests into swallowing one or two before dinner ! M. I The story never was told in Blackwood, and is too good to be lost : Dr. Tomline had 132 NOCTE8 AMBROSIAN.E. Editor. The Bishop's first two volumes are not quite the potato. I hope the others are better. Odoherty. Who cares ? I shall never read them. Have you seen Horace Walpole's Memoirs 1 Editor. I have. A most charming book. A most malicious, prying, lying old fox.* What a prime contributor he would have made ! but, to be sure, he was a Whig. Odoherty. So am I. For that matter, half your best contributors are Whigs, I take it. Editor. Mum, for that, Ensign. But, at least, I have nothing to do with the Scotch Kangaroo Canaille. Odoherty. They have nothing to do with you. you mean to say. Editor. They're a dirty, dull, detestable set. I hate them all I despise them all except little Jeffrey. Odoherty. He's a clever chap, certainly, I have not given him a dressing these two years ; I shall give you a song upon him one of these days. Editor. Do. What's afoot among the Tumbledowns ? Odoherty. The Holland House gentry are chuckling very much over a little tit-bit of blasphemy, sent over by a certain learned Lord from Italy, 'tis call'd the " Irish Advent," 'tis a base parody on the Advent of our Saviour, 'tis circulated widely among the same Thebans who blarneyed about Hogg's Chaldee.f of Pitt, and in 1821, wrote briefly to Murray, to ask whether he would publish it, and on what terms. English Bishops sign with the Latin names of their respective sees instead of their own surnames. The letter to Murray was dated ' Chelsea," where the Bishop had a suburban dwelling, and was signed Geo. Winton in contraction of Georgius Wintonensis, which would have been his full Latinized signature, as Bishop of Winchester. It happened that Murray was ignorant of this, and considering it a great liberty for an utter strange) to - " o wt tat etter roer expane te matter o e pscopa sgnature. > > Raid Murray, ''Ithongnt it was some Grub-street compiler, ana wrote him a stiff and saucy answer. I hope it has not been posted." On inquiry, it was found that the letter had already been taken, with others, to the Two-penny Post-office. With some difficulty, Freeling, the Secretary of the General Post-office, allowed Murray to get back the letter, in place of which he sent a very courtly epistle, offering to wait on the Bishop, and so on. The result was the publication of the firet part, in two volumes, of Tomline's Life of William Pitt. A third Kuow, once or IWlUc, lllttl lie wa. ill LIIC &ei;iei. 111. * Horace Walpole's Memoirs and Correspondence, to say nothing of his other writings, show extraordinary industry, lively wit, close orservation, and sly satire. They give on the whole more of political, literary, fashionable, ar.istical, and scandalous gossip during the last s-ixtr years of the Eighteenth Century, than we have yet received. Walpole became Earl of Orford, by succession, in 1791, but never took his seat in the House of Lords. He died in 1797, in hit eightieth year M. T The poem alluded to, was "The Imh Avatar," written in September. 1821, on the visit which George IV. had paid to Ireland, in the preceding August. Byron who was shocked at THE MAGAZINES. 333 Editor. Hogg's Chaldee ! good. Odoherty. You would notice the puffs about another thing, called " the Royal Progress ;" they say 'tis writ by Mrs. Morgan's ex- chevalier ; and I can believe it, for it is equally dull and disloyal. Editor. Are these all the news you have picked up? How do the luinor periodicals sell ? Odoherty. Worse and worse. Taylor and Hessey are going down like the devil.* Oolburn pays like a hero, for what you would fling into the fire. The copyright of the European was disposed of t'other day for about WOOL, back numbers, plates, and all included. 'Twas about the best of them. Editor. I hope old Sir Richard is thriving. Odoherty. Capitally. He circulates between three and four thou- sand ; and his advertisements are very profitable.f Why don't you sport a little extra matter of cover ? Editor. At present mine are mostly preserves. I'll enlarge them, if you won't poach. Odoherty. Depend on't, 'twill pay. Editor. I hope Nicholas gets on. Odoherty. Very fair. 'Tis the only Gentleman's Magazine besides ur own.J Editor. What is that thing called the Gazette of Fashion 1 Odoherty. 'Tis a poor imitation of the Literary Gazette. Mr. ,|| they say, patronizes it ; but this can't be true, for it attacks, very shamefully, the man who did HIM more good than any body else ever will be able to do him, here or Jiereafter. Editor. Hercles' vein with a vengeance ! You've been studying the Eclectic, one would think. tne enthusiasm with which the Irish Catholics received a monarch who had the power, but lapsed the will, to give them Emancipation, headed his stanzas, which are strong and stinging, with this motto, from Curran, " And Ireland, like a bastinadoed elephant, kneeling to receive the paltry rider." The poem, which gracefully closes with complimentary notices of Grattan, Curran, and Moore, was so personal on George IV., that it was not published in his life-time. But Byron sent it to Moore, at Paris, and allowed him to have a dozen copies printed, for private circulation. Some of these found their way to London, and were handed about, in literary society, until the poem became pretty generally known. It was first published, in England, in IH31. M. * After John Scott, the original editor of the London Magazine, was shot in a duel by Mr. Chnsiie, the periodical fell into the hands of Taylor and Hessey of Fleet-street, very intel.'i pent publishers. The duel (as will be more particularly stated in my Memoir of Lockhait, in the piesent edition of The Noctes), arose from a quarrel which sprung out of some articles in Bit :*wood. M. T Phillips, was a bookseller, who had been one of the sherilts of London, and was knighted on presenting some city address to George III. He was proprietor, publisher, and editor ot the Monthly Magazine, at one time a thriving periodical. The European Magazine gave a variety of good engravings, (landscapes and public buildings, with very good portraits of living characters), and was long the property of Mr. Aspern, who published the letters of the famous John Wilkes. M. {The Gentleman's Magazine, commenced by Edmund Cave, early in the reign cf George II., flourishes in that of Victoria, under the editorship of the Rev. John Mitford. For nearly half a c,ntury, it was conducted by John Nichols, an able writer on literary and antiquarian subjects. He died in 1828. M. II I am unable '.o say what peison is here alluded to. M. 134 NOCTES AMBRO8IAN.E. Odoherty. The Eclectic is not so poor an affair as you insinuate, Mr. Christopher. The principal writers tip us a little of the Snuffle and Whine, but you are up to that yourself, when it serves your turn. Montgomery's articles are such as you would like very well to lay your own fist upon, I fancy. Editor. If Foster still writes in it, they have one of the firs thinkers in England beneath their banner.* I wish you would read him, before you begin to write the auto-biography you've been talking iibout these three years. Odoherty. Coleridge's did not pay.f Editor. But yours may, nay, will, must pay. I'll insure you of 300CM. if you go to " the proper man." I intend to give him th first offer of my own great work, my Armenian Grammar, which is now nearly ready for press. Odoherty. Your name will sell anything. Is there much personal- ity in the notes ? Editor. I have cut up the commentators here and there. I have fixed an indelible stigma on old Scioppius.J Odoherty. I'll defy you to write a sermon without being personal. Editor. I'll defy Dr. Chalmers to do that. He -is deuced severe on the Glasgow Baillies and Professors ! I am told. Odoherty. Do many clergymen contribute? Editor. Droves. Odoherty. What do the lads chiefly affect? Editor. Jocular topics. 'Twas an arch-deacon sent me the Irish Melodies, which I know you have been owning everywhere for your own. I Odoherty. I follow one great rule, never to own anything that is my own, nor deny anything that is not my own. Editor. 'Tis the age of owning and disowning. It was a long while ere I believed Hope to be Anastasius. * John Foster, author of the " Essays" which have procured for'nlm the reputation of being one of the most original thinkers of his age, was a frequent contributor to the Eclectic Review, then more decidedly religious in its tone than at present. He died in 1843 James Montgomery, the poet, was a casual contributor to the same periodical, and died in 18 4. TAe Eclectic, which occasionally contains very able articles, is now edited by Dr. Thonu* Pryse, of London, who is its proprietor. M. t Coleridge's "Biographia Literaria," was only a fragment, and not.a very satisfactory one. Ii went through several editions in his life-time, and will always command a certain degree of attention. t Caspar Scioppius, a learned German, who wrote in the seventeenth century, was called " the grammatical cur," on account of his spiteful and injurious way of calumniating all who were eminent for their erudition. He was one of the class who, themselves not meriting not obtaining success, consider it unpardonable in others to be more deserving and fortunate. M. || A series of Irish Melodies, purporting to be sent by " Morty Macnamara Mulligan," ol Dubnn, but really written by Maginn. and published, with music and words, in Blackwood, for December. 1821. They were to have commenced aseries, but only No. 1 appeared, contain- ing MX melodies. M $ When " Anastasius" first appeared, in 1819, it was reviewed, in Blutku-ood, as written by Lord Byron. The late Thomas Hope, whose previous literary publications, had been ' Thj Cr..'imes of the Ancients," and " Designs of Modern Costumes, ' avowed himself the author, in .1 bri.-f letter which wan printed in Blackwood. M. IN VINO 135 Odoherty. It will be a long while ere I believe that Anastasiug wrote those quartos about mahogany. I believe he might furnish the wood, but, by Jericho, did he carve it at all ? Editor. You are an incorrigible Irishman. Have you any nevs from your country 1 It seems to me to be in a fine state. Odoherty. Why, for that matter, I think we are very common- place in our national diversions. Sir William Chambers complained of nature being monotonous, for furnishing only earth, air, and water. Blood and whisky may sum up all the amusements of the Irish Whigs. Burning, throat-cutting, shooting an old proctor or policeman that's all. They fight in a cowardly fashion. There's my cousin, Tom Magrath, writes me he saw 500 of them run away from about forty gentlemen. One of the chief stimulants the poor devils have, is a prophecy of the papist Bishop Walmesley, (the same that goes under the name of Pastorini,) that the Protestant church is to be destroyed in 1825.* Editor, Why, some few years ago, a godly squire in Ayrshire here, published a thumping book, to prove that Bonaparte would die in 1825,% the siege of Jerusalem. The year 1825 will be a rare one when it comes. Odoherty. These events will furnish fine materials for a new hour's Tete-a-tete with the public.^ Editor. What a world of things will have happened ere 1825 ! Odoherty. You will be knocked up ere then. You talk about your stomach only see how little remains in the bottle ! Editor. I had finished two ere you came in. I can never write without a bottle beside me. Judge Blackstone followed the same plan, he had always a bottle of port by him while he was at his commentaries. When Addison was composing his Essay on the Evidences, he used to walk up and down the long room in Holland House there was a table with the black strap at each end, and he always turned up his little finger twice ere he had polished a sentence to his mind. | I believe he took brandy while he was doing the last act of Cato. There is no good writing without one glass. " Nemo bene potest scribere jejunua." Odoherty. I prefer smoking, on the whole. But I have no objeo tion to a glass of punch along with it. It clears our mouth. * The prophecy was : " In the year eighteen hundred twenty-five, There will not be a Protestant alive." I was in the south of Ireland, on New Year's Day, 1825, and recollect seeing several Protes- tants, who were going to attend divine service, stealthily take loaded pistols with them, fearing that a general massacre was in contemplation, and resolving to sell their lives dearly. M. t The name of an amusing, chatty article which had appeared in Blnckwood, som,e tima before (evidently written by Wilson.) and had gained great approbation from the p&iiviit public. M. t This is the tradition at Holland House. M. 13G NOCTES IMBEOSIANJ;. Editor. " Experto crede Roberto." Odoherty. I am glad to see you have dropt your cursed humbug articles on German Plays. I hate all that trash. Is Kempferhausen defunct ? Editor. I had a present of two aums of Johannisberg from him not a week ago. Odoherty. The piperly fellow once promised me a few dozens ; but he took it amiss that 1 peppered him so at the Tent. Editor. I am sure you would have sold it to Ambrose if you had got it. Will you have some supper? Odoherty. Excuse me, I never eat supper. Editor, (Rings.) Waiter, Welsh rabbits for five, scolloped oysters for ten, six quarts of porter, and covers for two. Waiter. It is all ready, sir; Mr. Ambrose knew what you would want the moment the Captain came in. Odoherty. I am thinking seriously of writing some book. What shape do you recommend 1 I was thinking of a quarto. Editor. A duodecimo you mean ; will a quarto go into a sabre- tache, or a work-basket, or a reticule? Are you the bishop of Win- chester ?* Odoherty. What bookseller do you recommend 1 (These are prime powldoodies !) Editor. Ebony to be sure, if he will give the best price. But be sure you don't abuse his temper. There was a worthy young man done up only a few months ago by the cockney poets. He gave 100 to one for a bundle of verses, (I forget the title,) of which just thirty copies were sold. They "were all at him like leeches, and he was soon sucked to the bone. You must not tip Ebony any shabby trash you must be upon honor, Mr. Odoherty. You have a great name, and you must support it. If you mind your hits, you may rise as high as any body I know in any of the slang lines. Odoherty. You flatter me ! Butter ! Editor. Not one lick ! Egan is not worthy of holding a candle to your Boxiana ; and yet Egan is a prime swell. You should get little Cruikshank to draw the vignettes ; your life would sell as well as Hogg's, or Haggart's, or any body else, that I remember. { Odoherty. You'll cut a great figure in it yourself. Editor. A good one, you mean ? Odoherty. No, d , I scorn to flatter you, or any man. I shall tell the truth, all the truth, and nothing but the truth. Do you * The Bishop's Life of William Pitt had appeared in quarto. M. t The articles called " Boxiana," which have been generally attributed to Mnpinn tai. tl. rough several volumes of Blaclcwond. They gave the history of the English prize-rin;.'. Pierc-/ Kgan wrote the work on which they were based, and was additionally notorious as Editor of Bell's Life, a sporting pape/. and author of ' Life in London," which, when drama- tized, had more success than any performance which the London play-goers had seen for yeurn. ' Life in London" was illustrated bv George Cruikshank and his brother Robert M. SCANDALTJM MAGNATUM. 137 expect me to say that you are a handsome man ? Or that you have slim ankles? Or that you don't squint 1 ? Or that you understand the whole doctrine of quadrille 1 ? Or that you are the author of Waverley ? Or the author of Anastasius ? Are these the bams you expect ? Editor. Say that I am the author of the Chaldee, and I am satis- fied. Odoherty. No, I'll stick to my own rule. I'll claim it myself. I'll challenge Hogg if he disputes the point. Editor. I hope you'll shoot potatoes ; for I could not afford to lose either of you ! you are both of you rum ones to look at, but devils to go. Odoherty. I intend to be modest as to my amours. Editor. You had better not. The ladies won't buy if you do so. Your amour with Mrs. Macwhirter* raised my sale considerably. Odoherty. This is a very delicate age. I fear nothing at all high would go down with it. Editor. Why there's a vast deal of cant afloat as to this matter ; people don't know what they are speaking about. Show me any production of genius, written in our time, which does not contain' what they pretend to abhor. Odoherty. Why, there's the Edinburgh Review you must at least allow 'tis a decent work. Editor. Have you forgotten Sidney Smith's article about mission- aries 1 I won't repeat the names of some of them. Odoherty. The Quarterly] Editor. Why, Gifford and I ar-e old boys, and past our dancing days ; but I believe you will find some very sly touches here and there. Odoherty. Byron ? Editor. Poh! you're wild now. We may despise the cant about him, but you must confess that there's always a little of what's wrony in the best of his works. Even the Corsair seems to have flirted a bit now and then. And Juan, you know, is a perfect Richelieu. f Odoherty. Have you anything to say against the Waverley novels ? Editor. Not much. Yet even the old Dame Norna in the Pirate seems to have danced in her youth. I strongly suspect her son was a mere filius carnalis. Odoherty. What of Kenil worth, then ? Editor. 'Tis all full of going about the bush. One always sees what Elizabeth is thinking about. She has never some handsome * This amour is related, rather particularly, in the Memoirs of Odoherty, and the lady's last appearance was, in The Tent. M. t Not the Cardinal, but the Due de Richelieu, of the Orleans Regency, equally distinguished for his profligacy and valor. M. liiO NOCTE3 AMBROSIANJE. fellow or other out of her mind. And then the scene where Leices- ter and Amy get up is certainly rather richly colored. There is nothing a whit worse in the Sorrows of Werter, or Julia de Rou bigne, or any of that sentimental set. Odoherty. Milman is a very well-behaved boy. You can say nothing of that sort against him. Editor. He is a very respectable man, and a clergyman to boot ; but the bridal songs in his Fall of Jerusalem are not much behind what a layman might have done. There are some very luxurious hits in that part of the performance. Did you attend old P 's sale when you were in town ? Odoherty. No, I can't say I did ; but I hear there was a fine collec- tion of the Facetiae, and other forbidden fruits. A friend of mine got the editio princeps of Poggio,* but he sweated for it. The Whigs bid high. They worked to keep all those tit-bits for them- selves. Editor. Does this affair of Lord Byron's Mysteryf create any sen- sation in London ? Odoherty. Very little. The parsons about Murray's shop are not the most un tractable people in the world, otherwise they would never have abstained so long from attacking Juan, Beppo, and the rest of Byron's improprieties they that are so foul-mouthed against Shelley, and such insignificant blasphemers as that Cockney crew. Editor. I have often wondered at the face they show in that omis- sion. Odoherty. Really? Editor. No doubt a bookseller must have something to say ?,s to his own Review. But the thing should not be pushed too far, else a noodle can see through it. Odoherty. Meaning me? Editor. Not at all. But as to Cain, I entirely differ from the Chancellor. I think, if Cain be prosecuted, it will be a great shame. The humbug of the age will then have achieved its most visible tri- umph. Odoherty. I never saw if, but I thought it had been blasphe- mous. Editor. No, sir, I can't see that. The Society might have had some pretence had they fallen on Don Juan ; but I suppose those well-feng -words. 1 11 keep it to smack the brandy- wine, Or barleycorn's gallant juice. Then mount your mitre on your skull, And waddle with me, my lad, To take a long and hearty pull, At the brimmer bumpering glad. 6. Though ale be comforting to the maw, Jeremj bricgeth up Yet here I still shall dwell, his , nine-pounders, TT .., -r ,, , . j j , i and declareth that U ntil I prove that judge-made law he is a Berkleiau Is uncognoscible, philosopher. That the schools at Canterbury's beck* Exist but in the mind, And that T. T. Walmsey, Esquire, Sec. la no more than a spirit of wiudf 7. Jeremy, never mind such trash, Willison compareth And of better spirits think, Jeremy's Panopti- i j L f iii I_T_ i con to a porter-pot And out of your throat the cobwebs wash ; n a pretty simile? With a foaming flagon of drink ; For 'tis sweet the pewter pots to spy, Imprisoning the liquor stout, As jail-bird rogues are ring'd in by Your Panopticon roundabout. 8. Sweeter it is to see the sheet Jeremy calleth on With paradox scribbled fair, tnree E reat men > Where jawbreakiug words every line you meet, To make poor people stare. And Sir llichard of Bridge-street my books shall puff, Sir Pythagoras. Geo. And Ensor will swear them fine, ^ nsor ! a "t Master A j T & -ii 1 i i v. Francis Jeffrey And Jeffrey will say, though my style is tough, Yet my arguments are divine. 9. Jeremy, trust me, the puff of the three, Willison disparag. (I tell you the truth indeed,) LEU Is not worth the puff you d get from me, a cloud. Of the pure Virginian weed. And beneath its fume, while we gaily quaff The beer or the ruin blue, You at the world may merrily laugh, Instead of its laughing at yo.u. Church of Englandism. C. N. t Mr. Walmsley was Secretary to the then Archbishop of Canterbury. M. j Sir Richard Phillips, (of Bridge-street, Blackfriars), publisher and editor, was very h'sclv lo ' pufl"' Bentham. Mr. Ensor was an Irish writer on Population. Political Economy, &c. itf 150 NOCTES A.MBROSIANJS. 10. Jeremy proposeth The world may lay what it likes to my cb . s.gn of the Jolly Why, even at its sight my cheek turns pale, Bacchus, there to And my heart leaps up like a deer. sing about Prince g j t ()ff w j t l lout more delay, Charlie, and other .. ....'' goodly ballads. And My courage to raise with a glass ; Jeieray abideth in And as you prefer o'er such stuff to stay, his place. j>]^ toast you, my lad, for an ass. (Exit Willison Olass.) Editor. Well, but say candidly, what have you been doing for us 1 Your active mind must have been after something. I heard lately, (perhaps it was said in .allusion to your late detention in London,) that you were engaged with a novel, to be entitled " Fleet- ing Impressions." Odoherty. You are quite mistaken. I have not patience for a novel. I must go off like a cracker, or an ode of Horace. Editor. Then why don't you give us an essay for our periodical ? Odoherty. To prove what? or nothing. When I last saw Cole- ridge, he said he considered an essay, in a periodical publication, as merely " a say" for the time an ingenious string of sentences, driving apparently, with great vehemence, towards some object, but never meant to lead to anything, or to arrive at any conclusion, (for in what conclusion are the public interested but the abuse of indivi- duals). Fortunately, there is one subject for critical disquisition, which can never be exhausted. Editor. What is this treasure ? Odoherty. The question, whether is Pope a poet? Editor. True ! But confess, Odoherty, what have you been after? Odoherty. The truth is, I have some thoughts of finishing my agedy of the Black Revenge. Editor. Ye gods ! what a scheme ! Odoherty. The truth is, I must either do this, or go on with my great quarto disquisition, on "The Decline and Fall of Genius" Editor. I would advise to let alone the drama. I do not think 't at present a good field for the exertion of genius. OJofarly. For what reason, Honey? * Elements of Packing. C N. PROSE FICTION. 151 Editor. I think the good novels, which are published, come in place of new dramas. Besides, they are better fitted for the present state of public taste. The public are merely capable of strong sensa- tions, but of nothing which requires knowledge, taste, or judgment. A certain ideal dignity of style, and regularity of arrangement, must be required for a drama, before it can deserve the name of a compo- sition. But what sense have the common herd of barbarians of com- position, or order, or any thing else of that kind ] Odohcrty. But there is also the more loose and popular drama, which is only a novel without the narrative parts. Editor. Yes, the acting is the chief difference. But I th)*ik the novel has the advantage in being without the acting, for its power over the feelings is more undisturbed and entire, and the imagination of the reader blends the whole into a harmony which is not found on the stage. I think those who read novels need not go to the theatre, for they are in general beforehand with the whole progress of the story. Odoherty. This is true to a certain extent. But novels can never carry away from the theatre those things which are peculiarly its own ; that is to say, the powers of expression in the acting, the elo- quence of declamation, music, buffoonery, the splendor of painted decorations, &c. Editor. You are perfectly right. Novels may carry away sympa- thy, plot, invention, distress, catastrophe, and everything (Vide Blair.) Odohcrty. Do you mean Dr. Blair, or Adam Blair 1 ? Editor. The latter. I say the novels may carry away all these things, but the theatre must still be strong in its power of affecting the senses. This is its peculiar dominion. Yet our populace do not much seek after what strikes and pleases the senses ; for the elegances of sight and hearing require a sort of abstract taste which they do not seem to have. Any thing which is not an appeal through sympathy to some of their vulgar personal feelings, appears to them uninteresting and unmeaning. Odoherty. They think it has no reference to meum and tuum. Editor. It probably would not be easy to find a people more lamentably deficient in all those liberal and general feelings which partake of the quality of taste. Odoherty. You sink me into despair. I think I must betake my self to my old and favorite study of theological controversy, and furnish a reply to Coplestone. I perceive that Lord Byron, in his Mystery of Cain, tends very much to go off into the same disputes. Editor. A skeptically disputatious turn of mind, appears a good deal here and there in his poetry. Odoherty. I suppose you think Sardanapalus the best Tragedy he has written.* * One -.cene in RardanaraluK is worth nearly all, (from its intensity of regretful tenderness, 152 NOCTES AMBROSIAN.E. Yes. The Foscari is interesting to read, but rather painful and disagreeable in the subject. Besides, the dialogue is too much in the short and pointed manner of Alfieri. When a play is not meant to be acted, there is no necessity for its having that hurry in the action and speeches, which excludes wandering strains of poet- ical beauty, or reflection and thought, nor should it want the advan- tages of rhyme. The Faustus of Goethe seems to be the best specimen of the kind of plan fit for a poem of this kind not meant to be acted. Odoherty. Pindarum quisquis. Editor. Byron's Manfred is certainly but an Icarian flutter in com- parison ; his Sardanapalus is better composed, and more original. Odoherty. How do you like Nimrod and Semiramis ? Editor. That dream is a very frightful one, and I admire the conception of Nimrod.* Odoherty. You know that I am not subject to nocturnal terrors, even after the heaviest supper ; but I acknowledge that the ancestors of Sardanapalus almost made my hair stand on end ; and I have some intention of introducing the ghost of Fingal in my " Black Revenge." The superstitious vein has not lately been waked with much success. I slight the conception of Norna in relation to fear. The scorpion lash, which Mr. David Lindsay applied to the tyrant Firaoun, is not at all formidable to the reader, but there is solemnity and sentiment in the conception of the people being called away one by one from the festival, till he is left alone. That same piece of the Deluge would be very good, if it were not sometimes like music. which aims rather at loudness than harmony or expression. The most elegant and well composed piece in Lindsay's book is the Destiny of Cain. Editor. How do you like the Nereid's love 1 Odoherty. It is vastly pretty, but too profuse in images drawn from mythology. However, there are many fables of the ancients on which poems might be successfully made even in modern times, arid according to modern feeling, if the meaning of the fables were deeply enough studied. It does not necessarily follow that all mythological poems should be written in imitation of the manner of the ancients. and much less in the pretty style of Ovid, and those moderns who have adopted the same taste. Odoherty. You do not think Mr. Lindsay's Nereid French ? Editor. By no means. It is free from any fault of that kind. In "th* late remorse of love,") that modern playwrights have written. This is the hero's parting ivith his "gentle, wronged Zarina." M. * The description of Nimrod is a picture : " The features were a giant's, and the eye Was still, yet lighted ; his long locks curl'd down On his vast bust, whence a huge quiver rose, With shaft-heads featherd from the eagle's wing. Tiiat peep'd up bristling thro' his serjtnt hair. M. "THE IRISHMAN!" 153 some of Wordsworth's later poems, there appears something like a reviving imagination for those fine old conceptions, which have been and always will be. An age hath been, when earth was proud, Of lustre too intense To be sustaiu'd : and mortals bow'd The front in self-defence. "Who, then, if Dian's crescent gleam d, Or Cupid's sparkling arrow stream'd, While on the wing the urchin play'd, Could fearlessly approach the thade ? Enough for one soft vernal day, If I, a bard of ebbing time, And nurtur'd in a fickle clime, May haunt this horned bay ; Whose am'rous water multiplies The flitting halcyon's vivid dyes, And smooths its liquid breast to show These swan-like specks of mountain snow. White, as the pair that s!id along the plains Of heaven, while Venus held the reins. Odoherty. Beautifully recited ; and now touch the bell again, for we're getting prosy. Editor. Positively Ensign, we must rise. Odoherty. Having now relinquished the army, I rise by sitting still, and applying either to study, or will you ring 1 ? Editor. 'Tis time to be going, I believe. I see the daylight peep- ing down the chimney. But sing one good song more, Odoherty, and so wind up the evening. Odoherty. (Sings.) ARIA With boisterous expression There was a la - dy lived at Leith, a la - dy ve - ry sty-lish, man, And yet, in spite of all her teeth, she fell in love with an I - rish-man, A CHORUS CHRISTOPHER ! nas - ty, ug - ly I - rish-man, a wild, tre - men-dous I - rislmian, A :_ziA=*._ -r ' r \ -^- -^j 9 1 h r--|- -'v -^ . 7-t-F * V tcai - ing swearing, thumping, bumping, ramping, roaring I - rishman NOCTES AMBEOSIANJE. 2. His face was no ways beautiful, For -with small-pox 'twas scarr'd across ; And the shoulders of the ugly dog Were almost doubled a yard across. O, the lump of an Irishman, The whisky-devouring Irishman The great he-rogue, with bis wonderful brogue, the fighting, rioting, Irishman. 3. One of his eyes was bottle-green, And the other eye was out, my dear ; And the calves of his wicked-looking legs Where more than two feet about, my dear, O, the great big Irishman, The rattling, battling Irishman The stamping, ramping, swaggering, staggering, leathering swash of an Irishman 4. He took so much of Lundy-Foot, That he used to snort and snuffle O ; And in shape and size, the fellow's neck, Was as bud as the neck of a buffalo. O, the horrible Irishman, The thundering, blundering Irishman The slashing, dashing, smashing, lashing, thrashing, hushing Irishman. 5. His name was a terrible name, indeed, Being Timothy Tbady Mulligan ; And whenever he emptied his tumbler of punch, He'd not rest till he filled it full again. The boozing, bruising Irishman, The 'toxicated Irishman The whisky, frisky, rummy, gummy, brandy, no dandy Irishman. 6. This was the lad the lady loved, Like all the girls of quality ; And he broke the skulls of the men of Lcith, Just by the way of jollity. O, the leathering Irishman, The barbarous, savage Irishman The hearts of the maids, and the gentlemen's heads, were bother'd, I'm sure, by this Irishman.* I think I hear the rattles, Christopher. By Saint Patrick, there's a row in the street ! Come along, old one ! Up with jour crutch ! (Exeun ' AMBO ) * This song was w. itten by Dr. Maginn. M NO. 11 -APRIL, 1822. SCENE. The little wainscotted room behind a good fire a tal !e covered with books and papers, decanters and glasses. TIME Nine o'clock in the evening : a high wind without. Present Mr. CHRISTOPHER NORTH, and Mr. BULLER of Brasennose (seated in arm-chairs at the opposite sides of the Jire-place.) Mr. North. So -"Mr. Duller, you've been reading Henry Macken- zie's Life of John Home.* What say you to the book 1 ? I am sure jour chief objection is, that it is too short by half. Mr. Buller. It is; for, to tell you the truth, I know very little about the characters with whom Mr. Mackenzie seems to take it for granted that every body is as familiar as himself. Do you rernem ber John Home ? North. Perfectly. I remember going out to his farm-house, in East Lothian, and spending two delightful days with him there, so far back as the year seventy-seven. I was then a very stripling, but I can recall a great deal of what he said quite distinctly. After he came to live in Edinburgh, I was not much in Scotland ; but I once called upon him, and drank tea with him here, I think about 1807 or 1 808 very shortly before his death. He was, indeed, a fine highly- finished gentleman and bright to the last. Buller. What sort of looking man was he ? North. A fine, thinking face extremely handsome he had been in his youth a dark-gray eye, full of thought, and, at the same time, full of fire his hair highly curled and powdered a rich robe-de- ( hambre pale green, if I recollect, like one John Kernble used to wear a scarlet waistcoat a very striking figure, I assure you. Buller. He had been a clergyman in his early life! North. Yes, and, you know, left the kirk in consequence of a foolish outcry they were making about his Douglas. I remember him sitting in their General Assembly, however, as an elder and once dressed in scarlet ; for he had a commission in a fencible regi ment. 156 NOCTES AMBROSlAN-iE. Butter. Dr. Adam Fergusson,* too, was in the church at first, I think? North. He was and he went out chaplain to the forty-second, .-n the Seven Years' War. Colonel David Stewart tells a fine story of his heroism at the battle of Fontenoy. He could not be kept back from the front line. Buller. 'Ispevg psv aXXa Ma^rr^, like somebody in Homer. The Scotch literati of that time seem to have been a noble set of fellows. Good God ! how you are fallen off! North. We may thank the Whigs for that transeat cum ceteris. Buller. I don't exactly understand your meaning. Do you allude to the Edinburgh Review? North: Certainly, Mr. Buller. They introduced a lower tone in every thing. In the first place, few of them were gentlemen either by birth or breeding and some of the cleverest of them have always preserved a sort of plebeian snappishness which is mighty disgusting. What would David Hume, for example, have thought of such a set of superficial chattering bodies ? Jluller. David Hume appears in a very amiable light in this volume. He was, after all, a most worthy man, though an infidel. North. He was a man of the truest genius the truest learning - and the truest excellence. His nature was so mild that he could do without restraints, the want of which would have ruined the charac- ter of almost any other man. I love the memory of David Hume the first historian the modern world has produced primus absque secvndo, to my mind ! His account of the different sects and parties in the time of Charles I. is worth all the English prose that has been written since. At least, 'tis well worth half of it. Buller. Why are not his letters published? The few that have been printed are exquisite, one or two very fine specimens in this very volume and what a beautiful thing is that notice of his last * journey to Bath by the poetf a few such pages are worth an Ency- clopaedia. North. What a sensation was produced in England when that fine constellation of Scotch genius first began to blaze out upon the world! You thought us little better than Hottentots before. Buller. And yet Dr. Johnson always somehow or other kept the first place himself. North. He could not, or would net, make so good books as other * The Historian. He was chaplain of th 42d Highlanders, in Flanders, until the peace of Aix la Chapelle, and actually joined in the charge of his regiment at Fontenoy. Returning ' to Edinburgh, he was chosen Professor of. Natural Philosophy, but afterwards took the chair of moral philosophy. His chief work is a ' History of the Roman Republic." He died in lalO, aged ninety-two. M. t David Hume's interesting correspondence has since been collected and published, under the editorship of J. Hill Burton, of Edinburgh. He stands at the head of the modern philoso- phical skeptics, and his History of England is the moist permanent proof of his ability and researcLos. M JOHN HOME. 157 people, but God knows there was a pith about old Samuel which nothing could stand up against. His influence was not so much that of an author as of a thinker. He was the most powerful intellect in the world of books. He was the Jackson of the literary ring the judge the emperor a giant acknowledged to be a Saul amongst the people. Even David Hume would have been like a woman in his grasp ; but, odd enough, the two never met. B 'it Her. Your Magazine once had a good Essay on Johnson and Warbufton. North. Yes ; I wrote it myself. But, after all, Warburton was not Johnson's match.* He had more flame but less heat. Johnson's mind was a furnace it reduced everything to its elements. We have no truly great critical intellect since his time. Buller. What would he have thought of our modern reviewers ? North. Why, not one of the tribe would "have dared to cry mew had he been alive. The terror of him would have kept them as mum as mice when there's a cat in the room. If he had detected such a thing as Jeffrey astir, he would have cracked every bone in his body with one worry. Buller. I can believe it all. Even Giflbrd would have been annihilated. North. Like an ill-natured pug-dog flung into a lion's cage. Buller. He did not like your old Scots literati. North. He hated the name of Scotland, and would not condescend to know what they were. Yet he must have admired such a play as Douglas. The chief element of John Home's inspiration seems to have been a sort of stately elevation of sentiment, which must have struck some congenial chords in his own great mind. Buller. W'hat is your opinion of John He/me as a poet 1 North. I think nobody can bestow too much praise on Douglas. There has been no English tragedy worthy of the name since it appeared. \ 'Tis a noble piece beautifully and loftily written ; but, after all, the principal merit is in the charming old story itself. Douglas is the only true forerunner of the Scotch imaginative litera- ture of our own age. Home's other tragedies are all very indifferent most of them quite bad. Mr. Mackenzie should not have disturbed their slumbers. Buller. The natural partiality of friendship and affection North. Surely ; and it is most delightful to read his Memoir simply for its overflowing with that fine strain of sentiments. He is like Ossian, " the last of all his race," and talks of his peers as they * Dr. Warburton. Bishop of Gloucester, was more highly praised by Johnson, (in his Life cf Pope), than he really deserved. He knew a great deal, but knew few things so as to master them. As an author he was diffuse, coarse, and dogmatical. M. t This is one of the Instances where North's judgment was clouded by his nationality. Tho tragedy of Douglas by no means merits the high praise here given to it. M. 158 NOCTE8 AMBROSIA1SLE. should be talked of. One may differ from his opinions here and there, but there is a halo over the whole surface of his language. 'Tis to me a very pathetic work. Buller. Mackenzie is himself a very great author. North. A discovery indeed, Mr. Buller ! Henry Mackenzie, sir, is one of the most original in thought, and splendid in fancy, and chaste in expression, that can be found in the whole line of our worthies, lie will live as long as our tongue, or longer. Buller. Which of his works do you like best 1 North. Julia de Roubigne and the story of La Roche. I thought that vein had been extinct, till Adam Blair came out. But Nature in none of her domains can ever be exhausted. .Buller. But an author's invention may be exhausted, I suppose. North. Not easily. You might as well talk of exhausting the Nile as a true genius. People talk of wearing out a man's intel lectual power, as if it were a certain determinate sum of cash in a strong box. 'Tis more like the income of a princely estate which, with good management, must always be improving, not falling off. A great author's power of acquisition is in the same ratio with his power of displaying. He who can write well might be able to see well and his eyes will feed his fancy as long as his fingers can hold the pen. Buller. At that rate we shall have three or four more new Waverley romances every year 1 North. I hope so. There's old Goethe has written one of the best romances he ever did, within the last twelve months a most splendid continuation of his Wilhelm Meister and Goethe was born, I think, in the year 1742. T wish Mackenzie, who is a good ten years his junior, would follow the example.* Buller. Voltaire held on wonderfully to the last, too. North. Ay, there was another true creature ! Heavens ! what u genius was Voltaire's ! So grave, so gay, so profound, so brilliant his name is worth all the rest in the French literature. Buller. Always excepting my dear Rabelais. North. A glorious old fellow, to be sure ! Once get into his stream, and try if you can land again ! He is the only man whose mirth exerts the sway of uncontrollable vehemence. His comic is as strong as the tragic of JEschylus himself. Buller. We are Pygmies ! North. More's the pity. Yet we have our demi-gods too. In manners and in dignity we are behind the last age but in genius, properly so called, we are a thousand miles above it. They hud little or no poetry then. Such a play even as Douglas would, if published now-a-days, appear rather feeble. It would be better as a. * Instead of Mackenzie's being ten years younger t'nan Goethe, he was foui years' older, Mackenzie was born .a 1745, Goethe in 174U M. MODERN STATESMEN. 159 play certainly but the poetry of Byron, Scott, and Wordsworth, would be in men's minds, and they would not take that for poetry, fine though it be. Buller. What would people say to one of Shakspeare's plays, were it to be written now ? North. The Edinburgh Reviewers would say it was a Lakish Rant. The Quarterly would tear it to bits, growling like a mastiff. The fact is, that our theatre is at an end, I fear. A new play, to be received triumphantly, would require to have all the fire and passion of the old drama, and all the chasteness and order of the new. I doubt to reconcile these two will pass the power of any body now living. Buller, Try yourself, man. North. 1 never will but if I did, I should make something altogether unlike anything that has ever been done in our language. Unless I could hit upon some new really new key, I should not think the attempt worth making. Even our dramatic verse is quite worn out. It would pall on one's ear were it written never so well. Buller. Why 1 Sophocles wrote the same metre with yEschylus. North. No more than Shakspeare wrote the same blank verse with Milton or Byron, in the Corsair, the same measure with the Rape of the Lock. Counting the longs and shorts is not enough, Mr. Bachelor of Arts. Buller. You despise our English study of the classics. You think it carried too far. I understand your meaning, Mr. North. North. I doubt that. I suspect that I myself have read as much Greek in my day as most of your crack-men. In my younger days, sir, the glory of our Buchanans and Barclays* was not forgotten in Scotland. In this matter again, we have to thank the blue and yellowt gentry for a good deal of our national deterioration. Buller. They are not scholars. North. They scholars ! witlings can't be scholars, Buller. Know ledge is a great calmer of people's minds. Milton would have been .1 compassionate critic. Buller. Are you a compassionate one ? North. Sir, I am ever compassionate, when I see anything like nature and originality. I do not demand the strength of a Hercules from every man. Let me have an humble love of, and a sincere aspiration after what is great, and I am satisfied. I am intolerant to nobody but Quacks and Cockneys. * There are five Barclays, whose names are recorded : Alexander Barclay, translator of the "Navis Stultifera," or Ship of Fools, died 1532 ; Robert Barclay, author of "An Apology lor the Quakers," died 1690 ; William Barclay, Professor of Law at Angers, in France, and a great civilian, died 1605 ; John Barclay, his son, author of ' Kuphoronium," a Latin Satire, and " Aryenrs," a romance, died 1621 ; and John Barclay, of Cruden, who wrote a rare and curioia work in verse, now very scares, called " A Description of the Roman Catholic Church M. t ''The blue and yellow" was the Edinburgh Review, published with a cover of hl'je anil vello- naper. M. 160 NOCTES AMBROSIANJE. Buller. Whom you crucify, like a very Czar of Muscovy ! North. No, sir, I only hang them up to air, like so many pieces of old theatrical finery on the poles of Mon mouth-street. Buller. But to return to John Home and Henry Mackenzie I confess, I think the History of the Rebellion in 1745 is a far better work than it is generally held to be. North. Why any account of that brilliant episode in our history must needs be full of interest, and Hume being concerned so far himself, has preserved a number of picturesque enough anecdo'tes ; but on the whole, the book wants vigor, and it is full of quizzibles ; what can be more absurd than his giving us more pages about the escape of two or three Whig students of Divinity from the Castle of Doune than he spends upon all the wild wandering of the unfortunate Chevalier ? Buller. The young Pretender. North. The Chevalier the Prince, sir. My father would have knocked any man down that said the Pretender in his presence. Buller. Ask your pardon, Christopher. I did not know you were Jacobite. North. Had I lived in those days I should certainly have been one. Look at Horace Walpole's Memoirs, if you wish to see what a paltry set of fellows steered the vessel of the State in the early Hanover reigns. It is refreshing to turn from your Bedfurds, and Newcastles, and Cavendishes, to the Statesmen of our own times. Buller. Wait for fifty years till some such legacy of spleen be opened by the heirs of some disappointed statesman now living. North. There is something in that, sir ; but yet not much. Sir, nobody will ever be able to bring any disgraceful accusations against the personal honor and probity of the leading Tory statesmen who now rule in England. They are all men of worth and principle. They have their faults, I believe, but no shameful ones. Buller. Whom do you place highest? North. Lord Londonderry without question. He wants some of the lesser ornaments which set off a public man I mean in his style of speaking* but sense, sir, and knowledge, and thorough skill in affairs, are worth all the rest a million times over ; and he has some- thing besides all these, that distinguishes him from every body with whom he can at present be compared a true active dignity and pith of mind the chief element of a ruling character, and worth all the eloquence even of a Burke. Buller. His fine person is an advantage to him. * He was so deficient as a speaker, confused in ideas, and unable to put them, properly, into sentence?, that Byron said he was an orator framed in the fashion of Mrs. Malaprop. In action he was bold and decisive, in manners gentle and courtly. He committed suicide in Augnst^ S:2. uhile Georjre IV. was in Scotland. M JOSEPH HUME. 1G1 North. The grace of the Seymours would be an advantage to any man. But just look at the two sets of people the next time yor. are in the House of Commons, and observe what a raffish-looking crew the modern Whigs are. I'm sure their benches must have a great loss in the absence of George Tierney's bluff face and buff waistcoat.* Buller. What manner of man is Joseph Hume ? North. Did you never see him ? He is a shrewd-looking fellow enough : but most decidedly vulgar. Nobody that sees him could ever for a moment suspect him of being a gentleman born.f He has the air of a Montrose dandy, at this moment, and there is an intoler- able affectation about the creature. I suppose he must have sunk quite into the dirt since Croker curried him. Buller. I don't believe anything can make an impression on him. A gentleman's whip would not be felt through the beaver of a coal- heaver. Depend on't, Joseph will go on just as he has been doing. North. Why, a small matter will make a man who has once ratted, rat again. We all remember what Joe Hume was a few years ago. Buller. A Tory? North. I would not prostitute the name so far ; but he always voted with them.J As a clever poet of last year said " I grant you he never behaved, anno 12, ill He always used then to chime in with Lord Melville. There were words, I remember, he used to pronounce ill ; But he always supported the Orders in Council. At the Whigs it was then his chief pleasure to rail He opposed all the Catholic claims, tooth and nail ; Nay, he carried his zeal to so great an excess, That he voted against Stewart Wortley's address ; And while others were anxious for bringing in Canning His principal point seemed to be to keep Van in."|| Buller. What a memory you have ! Joseph has not so good a one, I'll swear, or he would not look the Tories in the face after such a ratting ! North. Why, no wonder then he hates the Tories. They never * Tierney, wro had been asort of Parliamentary leader of the Whigs, not in Parliamert in Ifeii'J. In Io27, Canning made him Master of the Mint, which he resigned, early in 18'iM ( nm Lord Gwicnen retired from the Premiership), and died in J830. In the bluff face, and bafl waistcoat, and I might add the blutl manner in which he spoke, an imitation of Fox was palpable. M. t Nor was he. Hume's mother kept a small stand, on market-days, in Montrose, and Fo: Maule (afterwards Loid Panmure), was seized with a whim of apprenticing him to a druggist which led to his becoming a surgeon in the East Indies, where he made a fortune -M. t Hume, originally entered Parliament, from January to November, 1812, as a Torymembe for the Borough Weymouth. In 1818, when he returned to the House of Commons, it was M a Radical member for Montrose. M. || See Letter to a Friend in the Countiy. London, Triphook* 1821. C. N. f" Van ' meant Mr. ^ansittart. Chancellor of the Excnequer, afterwards Lord Berley.1 M. VOL. I. 13 162 NOCTES AMBKOSIAN^E. thought of him while he was with them and now the Whigs do talk of Joe as if he were somebody. But as John Bull says " A very small man with the Tories Is a very great man 'mong the Whigs I" Butter. If you were to rat, North, what a rumpus they would make about you ! Why, they would lift you on their shoulders, and huzza till you were tired. North. That would not be long. Away with stinking breath, say I. Buller. At first they pretended to say you were dull. But that was soon over. Jeffrey persuaded them that would never pass, I am told. North. I can believe it. Jeffrey is a king among the blind. Buller. I suppose he hates you cordially, however. North. No doubt, in a small toothy way : just as a rat hates a terrier. But what makes you always speak about him ? I'm sure you don't mind such folks. Buller. Not much ; but, next to abusing one's friends, what, after all, is so pleasant as abusing one's enemies ? North. Try praising them, my friend : You'll find that embitters them far more fiercely. There's an air of superiority about com- mendation which makes a man wince to his backbone. The Whigs can't endure to be lauded. Buller. That's the reason you always lash them, I presume. North. Me lash them ! I would as soon get on horseback to spear a tailor. I just tickle their noses with the tip of my thong. Put me into a passion, and I'll show you what lashing is. Buller. I have no curiosity, Christopher. I'll take it all upon trust. When you cock your wig awry, you look as if you could eat a Turk. North. I would rather eat any thing than a Whig. When you cut them up, 'tis all stuffing, and skin and gall. Buller. They cry each other up at a fine rate. North. Why, I believe there is but one animal who may, in a certain sense, commit all crimes with impunity, and its name i WHIG. To have been detected in the basest embezzlement of money would not hinder one of them from being talked of as the light of the age. I suppose the next thing will be to have some habit and repute thief or housebreaker proposing a reformation of the criminal code. A Whig is never cut by the Whigs. Fox and Tom Erskine stuck by Arthur O'Connor to the last, and swore that they believed him to have the same political principles as themselves.* 1 suppose, in spite of his behavior to Mackerrel, Brougham could get a certificate! Even Bennet is something with them still ! * O'Connor was tried for high treason. M. MITCHELL'S ARISTOPHANES. 1G3 Buller. Not much. 'Tis a fine thing to be Whig, however. How the Chaldee would have been praised had it been written against the lories ! North. Why the English Tories would have laughed at it, and the Scotch Tories would have joined trembling with their mirth and Jamie Hogg would have been dinnered to his death, poor feljow. Buller. I have a sort of lurking hereditary respect for the name of AVhig. I can't bear its having come to designate such people. North, What stuff is this? You might as well wax wroth because a cicerone is not the same thing with a Cicero, nor a bravo the same thing with a brave man. Buller. \Vhy is it that the Whigs attack you so much more bit- terly than they do Gifford? North. Why, Mr. Buller, the crow always darts first at THE EYE. Buller. Their attacks on you are as zealous as their laudations of themselves. North. And as ineffectual. " Talk and spare not for speech, and at last you will reach, And the proverb hold good, I opine, sirs, In xpite of ablution, scent and perfume, pollution Skowd still tli at the sow was a swine, sirs." BulLr. What is that you are quoting now ? North. Aristophanes Mitchell, I mean.* I think the verses are in his version of The Wasps. Buller. I have not seen his new volume yet. Is it as good as the first? North. I don't know. The dissertations on the first volume were the most popular things in it, and there are no dissertations in this ; but, 'tis full of capital notes, and the translation is quite in the same spirited style. Nothing can be more true, I imagine. 1 am quite sure nothing can be more spirited or more graceful. Buller. That's high praise from a Cynic like you, Mr. Christopher. I suppose 'tis the first thing of the sort in our language, however. North. Oh ! most certainly it is so. None of the ancient drama- tists have ever had anything like justice done them before. There is so much poetry in some of the passages in this last volume, that I can't but wish Mitchell would take some of the tragedians in hand next. What a name might he not make if he could master ^Eschylus as well as he has done Aristophanes ? or perhaps some of Euripides' plays would fall more easily into his management. I wish he would try the Bacchse or the Cyclops. * Thomas Mitchell's chief title to fame rests upon his admirable translation into English Terse, of the Plays of Aristophanes. He was a good philologist; wrote several papers in the Quarterly Review, on subjects connected with Greek manners and literature ; and edited a few f the classical works printed at the Clarendon press, Oxford. "He died in 1845. aged sixty-two M. 164 NOCTES AMBROSIANJ2. Buller. Spout a little piece more of him, if you can. North. I will give you part of a passage that I consider nobody has so good a right to quote as myself; for 1 am the true represent- ative of the Vetus Comcedia ' When the swell of private rage foam'd indignant, that The Stage Dartd upbraid lawless love and affection, And will'd our poet's speech, (guilty pleasures not to reach) Should nssume a more lowly direction : Did he heed the loud reproof I No he wisely kept aloof, And spurn'd at corruption's base duress; For never could he choose, to behold his dearest Muse, In the dress of a wauton procuress." Buller. Why, this certainly looks as if it- had been written since Rimini and Juan. N^rih. Listen, man " When first the scenic trade of instruction La essay'd, Monster*, not tnen, were bis game, sirs ; Strange Leviathans, that ask'd strength and mettle, and had task'd Alcideb, thjii- fu.-y to tame, sirs !" n Her. The Shepherd of Chaldea may hold up his head now, I think. North. Hush " In peril and alarms was his 'prenti^eship of arms, With a SHARK fight and battle essaying. From whose eyes stream'd baleful light, like the blazing balls of sight Which in CYNNA'S (query, Jeffrey '.< /) fierce face are seen playing. Swathed and banded round his head, five-score sycophants were fed Ever slav'ring, and licking, and glueing, (young Whigs to be sure,) While his voice scrcam'd loud and hoarse, like the torrent's angry course, When death and destruction are brewing. Rude the portent, fierce and fell, did its sight the poet quell, Was he seen to a truce basely stooping '< No ; his blows still fell unsparing that and next year, when came warring With foes of a different trooping." Buller. No! nobody can say that of you, Christopher. North. There's another passage a semi-chorus of Wasps, which I must give you. It seems as if I heard a certain " CLEVER OLD BODY" swinging iu the midst of all his disjecta membra. " O the days that are gone by, O the days so blithe and bland, When my foot was strong in dance, and the spear was in my hand, Then my limbs and years were green, I could toil and yet to spare, And the foeman, to his cost, knew what strength and mettle are. O the days that are gone by, our title-page ; and that, being alarmed for Subscrip- tion Jamie, and Harry Twitcher,* he took up his pen and scratched his name out, as if he had been Emperor of the West, signing an order for our execution 1 The death-warrant came down, but we are still alive. North. I do indistinctly remember reading something to that effect in a Whig^newspaper, but of course I supposed it to be a lie ; but, if true, what then 1 Are we angry now with a gentlemanly person like Mr. Murray, for attempting to cut his own throat some years ago ? Too absurd a great deal. Tickler. Certainly. John Bull himself knows that we laugh at the Quarterly Review, only when it is laughable. He knows we ad- mire it, and say so, when it is admirable. Of all the periodicals now flourishing or fading, BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE is THE MOST IMPAR- TIAL. Yes, its illustrious editor despises all the chicanery of the trade. Trojan or Tyrian, that is, Murray or Constable, Longman and Rees, or Taylor and Hessey, Richardson of Cornhill, or Oilier of Bond-street, with you they are held in no distinction. Their good books you toss up to the stars, and their bad you trample down to Tartarus. North. John Bull also says, that the Edinburgh and Quarterly Reviews are works of a higher class than Blackwood's Magazine. 1 am truly vexed to differ from him here. They are works of an older, thicker, and heavier, but not of a higher class. A review is not necessarily a higher work than a magazine any more than a maga- zine is necessarily a higher work than a weekly newspaper or a weekly newspaper than a daily one. Genius, learning, and virtue, constitute the only essential difference between work and work ; and in these, we never heard it whispered, that this Magazine is inferior to any work, living or dead. * Sir James Mackintosh and He ry Brougham. M. 174.- NOCTES AMBROSIANJS. Tickler. John Bull may be right after all. He is an incompre- hensible mortal.* North. The John Bull newspaper is a chariot armed with scythes the Morning Chronicle is a market cart, out of which a big empty turnip or cabbage keeps trundling ever and anon against honest peo pie's legs ; but a dexterous turn of the ankle shys it into the kennel, and no harm done. Tickler However, in sober seriousness, you are an almost univer- sal favorite. You burn like a gas-light among oil-lamps. The affec- tion felt for you is a mixture of love, fear, and astonishment, three emotions that play into each other's hands. The sex regard you with a mixed passion, of which the fundamental feature is love. Fear is the chief ingredient in the ruling passion towards you of literary gentlemen under fifty and with Grey Bennet,f and old women in general astonishment. Buller. (Yawning.) Would you like to marry an actress ? Tickler and North. Whom are you speaking to ? Buller. To any body. Tickler. Not for my first wife. After a private spouse or two, I should not care for marrying a pretty young actress to rub my bald pate in my old age ; at the same time, a man should consider his posthumous fame. Now, if your relict, before you are well warm in your grave, marry an Irishman forty years younger, and three feet broader across the back than you her late dearly beloved hus- band, your posthumous fame receives a blow that demolishes it at once irretrievably that should be considered. Buller. Why, I begin to get drowsy was I snoring ? Tickler. Like a trooper. Ring the bell, my buck. Enter MR. AMBROSE. North. What's to pay? Mr. Ambrose. I beg you won't mention it. I am so happy to see Mr. Buller in Scotland again, that I cannot think of making any charge for a few hundred oysters, and a mere gallon of gin. North. Assist me on with my great-coat there there easy easy. Now, my cane. Give me your arm, Ambrose am I quite steady ? Mr. Ambrose. As steady as York Minster, sir. [They vanish into thin air. No. III. MAY, 1822. SCENE I. TIME Site o'clock, P. M. SCENE The Blue Parlor. To MR. NORTH, standing in the centre of the room, in full Jig, Enter MR. TIMOTHY TICKLER. North. Good day, sir ; I'm glad I'm not to dine quite alone. 1 began to think nobody was coming. Tickler. I beg your pardon^ Mr, North, but I really had no notion it was so far in the day. I took my chocolate as usual about two, and then went out into the Meadows* and wandered about. North. About what, you old rogue, you ? But no apologies. I'm glad you've made your appearance at least. Tickler. I hope you'll excuse my gaiters, North ; I had not the least idea you were to sport a regular blow-out to-day. I looked into the other room, and saw such a smash of covers and you in your silk stockings too ! I suppose you've been sporting your ankles with the Commissioner. North. Not I ; but I expect several strangers to dinner, and an editor is nothing without black breeches, you know but you need not say a word about your dress. Upon my honor, that's a most natty surtout and your spatterdashes, why they are quite the potato. For a contributor you are well enough and, after all, there's no ladies in the party. Tickler. What ! not even Mrs. M'Whirter !f I'll do well enough as I am for your Kempferhausens and Mullions, et hoc genus, if that's all the party. North. That's not it quite either, Mr. Timothy. I expect two or three gentlemen you have never been in company with, and I believe the meeting will give pleasure on all sides There's Sir Andrew Wylie for one.J Tickler. What ! he of that Ilk ? Old Wheelie ? *Tho Meadows lie south of Heriot's and George Watson's Hospital's, in Edinburgh, with Brantsfield Links, extend to about 200 acres, which are open for the recreation of inhabitants, by virtue of royal jrrants to the city. The national game of Golf is played on t fire open downs of Ilruntsfield Links. M. t Mrs. M'Whirter, Odoherty's ancient Philadelphia flame, never honored The Noctes \vith her |>"esence. Her last appearance was in The Tent. M. . i lis.it. ir. the novel of ''Sir Andrew Wylie, of that Ilk," (equivalent to " of Wylie'*) hal r.arrated the adventures of a poor Scottish lad who went to London to seek his fortune, and relumed i ome v ith riches and rank. M. 176 NOCTES AMBROSIA1LE. North. The same he's an Elder in this General Assembly, and his chum, Dr. Scott,* who is also a member of the venerable court, introduced him to me a few mornings ago at the Moderator's break- fast. I declare the western worthies eclipsed even the ministers ! I never saw two such twists I beg your pardon I hope Mrs. Tickler is well. Tickler. So, so, North : Of course Sir Andrew wrote his own Life ? North. Why, you know every body writes books in our days, and nobody owns them. But I suppose he and the Odontist patched up the Life between them. They're a couple of queer comical old devils. The Baronet, a deuced rum fellow, to be sure ; but Coun- tesses and Duchesses adore him, and we must all confess he is one of the cleverest, and at the same time best-tempered creatures alive. Tickler. Whom else have ye? North. Mr. Pendarves Owen a very pretty-behaved young gen- tleman. * Tickler. By Jove, if he leaps out of a window here, there will be a pretty end of the pretty-behaved gentleman. Imagine a fellow clearing the Cowgate, or Hopping over the Horse Wynd, fourteen stories deep, from a skylight to a chimney top.f Of course the lad has a bee in his bonnet. North. Perhaps you'll find it a wasp if you go too near. He's a cursed hot fellow but so are all the Taffy breed. But what was I thinking of? There's Feldborg behind.! Tickler. Feldborg the Dane ? really ? North. Feldborg ipsissimus ipse ! I hear his cough on the stair this moment. He arrived in the Roads last night at a quarter after eleven. Enter MR. AMBROSE. Mr. Ambrose. Professor Feldborg ! [Exit. Enter FELDBORG, THE DANE. Feldborg. With joy and ravishment, O illustrious man, do I once more contemplate thee. From the very first instant of the time I * T)r. Pcott. " the Odontist," as shown in Maga, was nearly as imaginary as Sir Andrew Wylie. M. t In the summer of 1822 was published, by Blackwood. of Edinburgh, a novel called Pen 'wen, in three volumes. It was written by the Rev. Mr. Hook, who was cousin to the cetions Theodore. Another novel, called " Percy Mallory," was all that the same pen con- butcd to public amusement, in the way of prose fiction. Pen Owen was reviewed in Black' ,i;,od for June. 1822. by which its merits were widely made known. The reviewer said that it was an eminently successful "attempt to revive the old style of the time of George II. and apply it to the time of George IV." The work took its hero into all sorts of plays : now in the House of Commons, listening to a debate; in Newgate, in company with Cobbett:in Albemarle-street. dining at John Murray's, next to Tom Sheridan ; in a sort of Cato-street Conxpiracy. with an examination at the Home Office as a wind-up ; at Smithfieid. amid the drovers, (how capitally Noah Tup ro >s simple Tcm Crossthwaite !) ; in a political debating society ; in fact, in all places and with all people in London, in the year ot grace 1822. Pea Owen, the hero, was the most impulsive of beings, and this is the gentleman b:ci:ght isle the Third of the Noctes. M. t The Dane was imaginary as far at l'i. Noctes were concerned. M. THE GUESTS. 177 re-landed on the Albionean coast, did rny rnind ixy soul my spirituous part thirst after thee. And to thee, also most admired and honorable Mr. Tickler, I offer my heartfelt salutations. Heaven jurely, what I hope, has favored you both, me absente, dum in Dania inea moi^atussum. North. All hail, Prince of Denmark ! And how is the little Prince that you told so many pretty stories to, and how are Oehlenschlaeger, and Baggesen, and Bombardius, and all the rest of the Danes ? Feldborg. All quite hearty, quite the charming agreeable spirits, and all in louf with you. Baggesen is writing a very big book all about you. Its title is De Amore Northi apnd Danos. The book will make a sensation -it is dedicated what you call to Oehlenschlaeger. North. What 1 so they have made up matters ! Feldborg. Quite reconciled I saw with mine own eyes Baggesen smoking one, two, three long, very long puffs out of Oehlenschlaeger's pipe. I wrote a very pretty poem on that subject in the Copenhagen Chronicle. It has already been translated into Swedish and Lapp. North. It must now be well known if that's the case but here comes the rest of our friends. Sir Andrew, your most obedient humble servant. Enter SIR ANDREW WYLIE, DR. SCOTT, MR. PENDARVES OWEN, ENSIGN O'DOHERTY, and the REV. DONALD WODROW, D.D. I'm exceedingly proud of having the honor to see you all here, gentlemen Dr. Scott, don't pull my wrist out of joint, man Mr. Owen, I'm delighted Dr. Wodrow, how-do-you-rfo, my good sir? Has the overture come on yet? [yls?'ek.] Order dinner, Odoherty. Rev. Dr. Wodrow. Why, Mr. North, you see that business from the Ayr brethren has occupied the committee so long, that our overture North. Gentlemen, allow me to make you all acquainted. Sir Andrew Wylie, Mr. Tickler Mr. Tickler, Sir Andrew Wylie. Professor Feldborg, Captain Odoherty Captain Odoherty, Profes- sor Feldborg. Captain Odoherty, allow me the pleasure of introduc- ing you to my friend Dr. Wodrow I'm sure you're no strangers to each other's names at all events. Well, now, are all the salaams over ? Do any of you choose a whet before dinner ? Rev. Dr. Wodrow. It is not my custom to take any thing before dinner ; but really, you folk in the town, you dine so late and I took, thoughtlessly, some very salt ham this morning at the Mode- rator's. North. There's a variety of liquors on the side-table Odoherty, give Dr. Wodrow a little Seltzer- water, or something cooling. While ODOHERTY is handing round, a salver, covered witfr small glasses, <6c., enter AMBROSE, with a towel under his arm) VOL. I. 14 178 NOCTES AMBRO3IAN,*:. Ambrose. Gentlemen dinner. North. Gentlemen, I'll show the way. Sir Andrew, your arm. [Exeunt C. N. and SIR A. W. Odoherty. Seniores sint priores ! Cedant arma togce. [Exit PROFESSOR FELDBORG. Tickler. I can't walk before so many Doctors. Walk away, I)r Scott. Rev. Dr. Wodrow, (brushing hastily out of the room.) Come away, Dr. Scott. Dr. Scott. Mr. Tickler, if you please, sir. Tickler. O fie, Doctor after you, Doctor. [Exit DR. SCOTT exit TICKLER. Odoherty. Come along, Mr. Owen. What a hubbub these old Puts make, with their hanged precedence ! Did you notice how th D.D. hopped off? As brisk as a beetle, by St. Patrick! SCENE II. C. NORTH, ESQ. SIR ANDREW WYLIE Bart. REV. DR. WODROW. TIMOTHY TICKLER, ESQ. O O O O O O PROF. FELDBORG. O DR. SCOTT. O PENDARVES OWEN, ESQ. ENSIGN ODOHERTY. North. A bumper ! THE KING ! God bless him ! Omnes. The King! ! ! [Three times three. Trumpets without. Air God save the King.~\ Tickler. A bumper the Kirk of Scotland ! Omnes. The Kirk of Scotland ! [Air The Bush aloon Traquair.] Rev. Dr. Wodrow. Gentlemen, all your very good healths ! I am extremely sensible of the honor you have done North. A bumper ! " The general joy of the whole taHe !" Odoherty. (Aside.) Vide Shakspeare ! hem! Omnes. The General joy, &c. (Three times three.} (Air, we are (he Lads, dec. PERSONALITIES. 179 North. Now, gentlemen, these three bumpers being discussed, I leave the filling of your glasses to your own discretion. Ouiherty. Let each man fill his neighbor's glass, and push the port and sherry into the middle of the table. Mr. Chairman, give Sir Andrew a little drop ; I'm sure he'll do as much for the Reverend Doctor on his right. Sir. A. Wylie. Na, wha ever heard o' sic like doings as this ! and me a ruling Elder too ! Oh dear, you literary men are the most un- conscionab.e chields I ever foregathered wi' but to be sure it's ill to make a silk purse out of a sow's lug. Dr. Scott. Hear till him ! Would any body think the Baronet had lived sa mony years out of his ain country, and been in high life too, Lord preserve us, (I beg your pardon, Dr. Wodrow, it just slipped frae the tongue, man) and kittled ladies of quality in his time and crackit a bottle with Mr. Pitt himself an' a' the lave o't ? Ane that did not ken the history, would, saving his presence, just take him for some Paisley baillie, that had never had the stink of the Sneddon out of his nostrils ! North. Mr. Odontist, I disapprove of personalities. Dr. Scott. Hout ! Like the Duke of Bedford, I meant nothing per- sonal, upon my honor. Sir A. Wylie. Dr. Scott having in the handsomest manner de- clared that he meant no allusion to me personally, I am now per- fectly satisfied. Fill your glass, Dr. Scott. Rev. Dr. Wodrow. That puts me in mind of a story of Mr. Tham of Govan a queer fellow but sound, very sound in his doctrine. He had been rebuking a young lad and lassie one day in his kirk, and he had in his rough way, (for Tham was a very rough brother, sirs,) gone a great length in miscalling the lad ; and as they were a' coming out of the kirk, the lad he came down from the cutty-stool and runs up to the minister, and says he, " I dinna ken what you meant by yon blackguard language about me. I think you're ex- ceedingly impertinent, Mr. Tham." And wi' that Mr. Tham up with his stick, (he had aye a good bit sapling in his hand,) and comes a clink o'er the chield's head, and gar'd him reel away back, and he fell on the braid o' his back among the dirt, hee ! hee ! hee ! Dr. Scott. A" bonny parallel, my certy ! Feldborg. When Baggesen and Oehlenschlaeger first began to write pamphlets concerning each other Ay, what pamphlets Bag- gbsen does make ! there was some talk of their fighting with the sword, and to be sure they went one day into Hamlet's Garden what we call, and they drew their swords so bright, so clear, and up comes I by accident, and says I, " What fools you are, let us go dine all together at the White Feather." This is a great inn, what you call, in Elsinore. 180 NOCTES AMBROSIAN^E. North. And did you go, accordingly 1 ? Feldborg. Oh, what for a dinner we did eat that day! At tho head of the table was a sausage-pie. O, what for a pie ! and at the foot there was a boiled goose with mustard pudding ; and there was one dozen big black bottles of the best beer, and how we did rejoice ! Oh, me ! Pen Owen. (Aside to ODOHERIT.) Noctes Ccenaeque Deum. Odoherty. (Aside to PEN OWEN.) Noctes Coenaeque de hum. Pen Owen. Pray, Dr. Scott, what is that book called the Percy Anecdotes 1 I saw it in a window at York as I came through, and bought it to divert us in the chaise, and I can make very little mean- ing of it, although it is an amusing production enough in its way.* Dr. Scott. I only possess two or three numbers of the work ; there's one of them called " Anecdotes of Instinct, with a portrait of the Ettrick Shepherd ;" I was much amused with it. Pen Owen. Yes; but why Anecdotes of Instinct with a Portrait of Hogg? Do they mean to represent Hogg as being totally devoid of Reason? A mere new edition of the Learned Pig? Dr. Scott. It did not strike me before ; but now you -point it out, 'tis absurd. Then there's one, " Anecdotes of Genius, with a portrait of Mr. Sou they ;" and, immediately after, comes another, "Anecdotes of Crime and Punishment, with a portrait of Sir James Mackintosh." Now, I for one, can make neither head nor tail of this. Pen Owen. Do you suppose they mean t-o insinuate that Sir James stands in the same relation to Crime and Punishment in which Southey stands to Genius 1 If so, what has been the learned knight's crime ? What has been his punishment 1 Tickler. What say you, Sir Andrew 1 Sir A. Wylie. 1 suppose they mean to let us to wit, that Sir James Mackintosh is above Crime and Punishment, just as the Poet Hogg is above Instinct ?f Rev. Dr. Wodrow. Good, very good, I'm clear for Sir Andrew's way of expounding the dubiety, 'tis like Lucus a non lucendo ehem ! Odoherty. (Sings.] This is the wine That in former time Each wise one of the Magi Was wont to carouse In a frolicsome bowse. Recubans sub tegmine fagi * It was published in London. It was neatly illustrated. It formed a series of 40 numbers, or 20 duodecimo volumes. It professed to consist of " Anecdotes, original and select, by Sliolto and Reuben Percy, brothers of the Benedictine Monastery, Mont Benger." Sholto. being a Mr. Robertson, for many years editor of the Mechanics' Magazine ana the Railway Record newspaper. M. t The actual reason why aportrait if Sir James Mackintosh illustrated the volume on Crime and Punishment, may be traced to the lact, that Sir James had been a Judge in India, and, as member of Parliament, had endeavored to mitigate the severity of the b n^lish penal cod M. TICKLER'S BRIDAL SONG. 181 Mr. North, you're keeping the bottle rather long by you. North. Well, Odoherty, since your pipe is so clear, suppose you do sing us another song and if it be one of your own, so much the better for Dr. Wodrow. Odolierty. Well, since you will have it, I shall tip you what wrote last month, on the interesting occasion of the marriage of Mr. Timothy Tickler, if you know any such person. North. You're quizzing, Odoherty Sing, but remember, that I depend upon your good feelings, to introduce nothing that could call up a blush on the delicate cheek of Mrs. Tickler, if she were present. Tickler. Delicate cheek ! hem, " call it fair, not pale 1" Odoherty. (Sings.) SONG. ON THE "WEDDING-DAT OF TIMOTHY TICKLER, ESQ., AND MISS AMARANTHA ALOESBUD. 1. Fill, fill to the brim, fill a bumper to him, Who is call'd to a happier duty away, Who, seated beside his own loved one his bride Drinks large draughts of joy from her eyes' sunny ray ; And let not the toast to the man we Live most, Be silently pass'd round the board as we sit ; But rising about, with a heart-stirring shout, Let us hail the dear union of Beauty and Wit. 2. Though, perhaps, now no more, shall our friend, as before Join his bachelor mates in their frolicsome knot ; Nor pour forth his soul over bottle and bowl, That soul free from taint of dishonoring thought ; Though that eloquent tongue upon which we have hung So oft with delight, may no more glad us here ; Yet still his loved name a full bumper shall claim, And it still shall be hail'd with a thrice given cheer. 8. O, blest be this day, by the smile of the gay, By the bright eyes of beauty, by music and dance I O, blest be this day and as life wears away, May he joj on its moments his thoughts back to glance ! May the maid, whose bright charms are resign'd to his arms*, Still be loved with the love that he feels for her now 1 And may her dear lord be by her still adored, As when first she liep'd forth the unchangeable vow. 182 NOCTES Then fill to the brim, fill a bumper to him, Who is called to a happier duty away, Who, seated beside his own loved one his bride Drinks large draughts of joy from her eyes' sunny ray ; And let not the toast to the man we love most Be sileutly pass'd round the board as we sit; But rising about, with a heart-stirring shout, Let us hail the dear union of Beauty and Wit I ). Scott. (Singing.) " Let us hail the dear union of Beauty and Wit" Devilish good song, upon my honor, Mr. North, I crave a bumper Mrs. Tickler, with three times three. Rev. Dr. Wodrow. Cheers or children, Dr. Scott ? ha ! ha ! ha ! the like o' that ! ( Trumpets without.) Omnes. Mrs. Tickler! [Air Green grow the rashes, OJ\ Mr. Pen Owen. (Aside to ODOHERTY.) They're getting dull at that end of the table. May I tip them a touch of the long pole 1 Odoherty. (Aside to PEN OWEN.) To be sure, honey ! Where's Liberty-hall, think ye? Plant the prong! Pen Owen. Mr. North, with your permission, and with the per- mission of the distinguished company, whom I have now the honor of seeing assembled around this festive board, there is a name which J would earnestly but respectfully entreat permission to join with the smack of a bumper. North. Contributors, a bumper, Mr. Pendarves Owen's toast. Pen Owen. I beg leave to propose the health of THE SMALL KNOWN. North. Gentlemen, this is an appeal to your liberality, and I am sure your conduct will justify it. Take the time from me. Omnes. THE SMALL KNOWN ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! (Trumpets without Air Saw ye my wee thing?) Sir A. Wylie, (aside to Dr. Wodrow.) We've all heard enough of the Great Unknown, but wha is this we've been drinking, Doctor ? Rev. Dr. Wodrow. Dr. Cook, I take it. North. Pooh, pooh, 'tis our friend, the Prince of Reviewers, Sir Andrew. Dr. Wodrow. The like o' that ha! ha! The Small Known! well, I never heard sic like toasts ! I'se propose it myself at the Moderate Club, the morn's night, may I ? North By all means. A toast is nothing until it comes into genera 1 , vogue, like The Cause for which Sidney bled on the Scaffold^ and HampJen on the field, &c. Pen Owen. Which is pretty much the same thing with "the THE SMALL KNOWN. I S3 Cause for which Sandt died by the axe, and Thistlewood by the drop." Odoherty. I beg leave to propose a bumper, Mr. Chairman, To the memory of Thistlewood ! ! ! Professor Feldborg, (aside to Dr. Scott.) What man was Thistle wood '} Was he a Tory Reviewer ? Dr. Scott. Ask your friend Mr. Owen. I think he's like to give you the best notion.* Pen Owen. Come, come ! you should not make such allusions, Mr Odoherty. I'm sure you will admit that I was most innocently pre- sent on that unfortunate cession, when Thistlewood Odoherty. I could have forgiven any thing but that humbugging note, in which you, or whoever did your history, says the chapter about that affair was writ before the affair happened. Pen Owen. 'Pon honor it was. Odoherty. Nay, nay, man ; a joke's a joke but do you mean tc say, that you thought of that quotation about " Cato's little senate," before the night you made your famous leap over the little back court behind Cato-street. Pen Owen. What do you believe, Mr. Odoherty ? Odoherty. I believe that any man may with impunity, (so far as a certain concern goes,) touch the King, abuse the Lords, black guard the Commons, and ruffianize the prime writers of the age and country ; but that vengeance will fall on his head if he dares but to lay his little finger on the smallest of Critics. Feldborg. What ? call Baggesen the smallest of critics ? What for a joke ! Baggesen? He that did compose the glorious garland? Oh, what ignorance ! Odoherty. I meant not Baggesen I talked of Jeffrey. Clap not thy wings so fiercely, Cock of the North. Sir A. Wylie. What ? aye at the Sma' Known? Will you never be done with your personalities about that gentleman ? Tickler. ' Fie, Odoherty ! And after that beautiful rebuke of his, in his last number, which, I am sure, will shut Lord Byron's mouth for ever and a day. Odoherty. As effectually as a prime pouldoodie of Burranf would shut my potato-trap for three seconds. * Arthur Thistlewood, -who had previously been acquitted on a charge of treason, and WM discontented with the British Government, threw himself into what was called the Cato-street Conspiracy, and conspired to murder the Ministry, at a Cabinet-dinner at Lord Harrowby's, and then>on raise an insurrection in London. This was early in 1820, immediately on the accession of George IV., and a spy having revealed all that was done and intended, a party of police and soldiers went tt arrest the conspirators. Thistlewood resisted, killed one of the police with a sword, escaped, was captured, tried, and condemned. Thistlewood and four others were ex- ecuted, as traitors, en May 1, 18iJO. One of the scenes in " Pen Owen" was marvellously like ti e actual scene in Cato-street, though written before it. M. t The PouldocdiesofBurran were a description of Irish oysters t anent which, Mrs. M'Whirter ctiamed a laudatory song, in presence of Christopher in the Tent, which see, ante. p. 98. M. 184 NOCTES AMBKOSIAN.E. Dr. Wodrow. Well, now, I must say that I read that passage with delight ; there is no doubt that Lord Byron is very much to blame, if it really be so, which I am no judge of, that he was the first who wrote in a personal manner. It was introducing a dangerous a deadly trick. There's no saying where it may end yet. Christian folk should dwell together like brethren in unity. Oh ! sirs, there's a deal of needless heart-burning and hot water among you literary *\>lk of this time, take ye my word for that. Dr. Scott. Ay, and so is there among the illiterary folk of this time, Dr. Wodrow what say ye to your bickers in the aisle, oure bye yonder? My faith! you ministers and elders, ye're the most tinkler-tongued pack of illiterati, when ye begin your collieshangie. Sir A. Wylie. Come, come, Odondist, you need not be so bitter, ihough you could not manage to get yourself returned for the Uni- versity of St. Andrews this Assembly but what is all this that you're saying ? Does Mr. Jeffrey really charge Lord Byron with being the author and institutor of the sin of personality 1 Tickler. " 'Tis true, 'tis pity ; and pity 'tis, 'tis true." Dr. Scott, (closely imitating Tickler in enunciation.) 'Tis trash, 'tia certain ; and certain 'tis, 'tis trash. Pen Owen. I have not yet seen the last Number of the Edinburgh Eeview but if the Small Known has said so, he has certainly not a large memory. Tickler. Alas, he will never have such a memory as Smithers ! Pen Owen. But I'm speaking in earnest. What, sir? Has Jeffrey forgot that he could once read without spectacles ? Has he forgot that he was not always a dandy of sixty? Has he forgot how, from the beginning of his career, he abused SOUTHEY? Has he forgot how he lashed his friend, TOMMY MOORE? Was it not personality that pointed the path to Chalk Farm? Has he forgot Tlielwall? Was there no personality in calling Thelwall a Tailor? Was there no personality in his attacks on COPPLESTON ? Was there no per- sonality in comparing Mr. DAVISON TO A RAT IN A GUTTER ? Was there no personality in the lucubrations, concerning that patriotic, that most enlightened Peer, my Lord ELGIN ? Was there no person- ality in that most flagitious insinuation concerning the birth of our late venerable venerated Sovereign?* Bah! North. Take your breath, young sir, and fill a bumper. The bottle is with you, and we would rather be excused waiting till you have done with such a catalogue as this. Sir A. Wylie. I would be very sorry to interrupt Mr. Owen, but I would fain ask one question, for really and truly, sir, I'm to seek * One of the scandals of the last century was, that George III. was eon not of Frederic Prince of Wales, but of the Earl of Bute. It was the influence of the Princess of Wale* (Pro- daric's widow) that placed Lord Bute in the high office of Premier, (for which he was by n'l means adequate) shortly after George III. became king. M PERSONALITY. 185 in sic matters. Did Lord Byron ever write any thing personal about Mr. Jeffrey himsELF? Tickler. Bravo ! bravissimo ! Rem acu tetigisti ! Odoherty. (Sings.) " Vain is every fond endeavor To resist the gentle dart ; For examples move us never, We must feel to know the smart" When the lard, in verse undying, Pays the Prose of the Review, Vanity, her aid supplying, Bids them think it not their due. CHORDS Vanity, her sting supplying, Pokes the Yellow and the Blue. North. Thank ye, Adjutant ! But now there's been so much fighting about the bush, let's to the scratch with it at once. Mr. Pendarves Owen, what do you understand by the word Personality? Pen Owen. I don't know I can't well say. I suppose Jeffrey means, when he accuses Lord Byron of it, to allude to his cuts at Coleridge, and Sou.they, and Sotheby, and Wordsworth, and Bowles, and Sam Rogers, and the King, and so forth. North. Sir, did you ever read a poem called " English Bards, and Scotch Reviewers'?" Pen Owen. I remember seeing such a thing in Mr. Mapletoft's library long ago, and glancing over it ; but at that time I was young and ignorant, and took no interest in it. I understood very little about what was meant or insinuated. North. Very likely ; but still you can't have forgot the two great and general facts, that this poem was written by Lord Byron, and that it contains many most bitter pungent lines of personal satire against Hallam, Pillans, &c., and least not last, against Mr. Francis Jeffrey himself, whose birth is ridiculed, whose person is derided, whose genius is scorned, whose personal honor and courage even held up to utter and open contempt, and all this in a manner equally unmerited unparalleled Tickler. (Interrupts him.) And unpardoned. North. Ay, there's the rub ! Look ye, it would take a bat not to see through the whole of this mighty millstone. The Edinburgh Reviewers (Jeffrey himself, 'tis generally supposed,*) began the row with a violent attack on Lord Byron's juvenile poems, in a review, in the conclusion of which there is certainly not a little personality. This is done in utter ignorance of Lord Byron's talents, in utter con- tempt of him and all that pertains to him. Very well, Lord Byron writes and publishes the poetical satire of which we have been speak- * Brougham is generally supposed to have written the article. M. 186 NOCTES AMLJEOSIAN^E. ing, and the Edinburgh Reviewers are laughed at for several wcels all over England, Ireland, Scotland, and the town of Berwick-u pen- Tweed, to say nothing of Yankeeland and Botany Bay. So far so well. But in a few years, out comes CHILDE HAROLD, and Lord Byron is at once placed nem. con. by the side of the first poets of our age. What a moment of mortification must that have been, when Mr. Francis Jeffrey first discovered whom he had to do with! Why, did you ever see a little slim greyhound, half the Surrey breed per- haps, attack a strong Yorkshire, fox who had jumped up from the cover, when they were whipping for hares ? Jeffrey was just in such a quandary. Down he goes on his knees, and worships the rising star. Puff! puff! puff! nothing but puffing ! nothing but who shall puff the highest. Sir A. Wylie. Under favor, ye're forgetting to mention that Lord Byron had been putting himself forrit as a Whig also. North. True but I don't make much of that in this particular instance. Lord Byron, however, does not intimate any particular sensibility in his olfactory nerves, to the stimulus of the Blue and Yellow incense. Tickler. Censer and censure, sir, came alike to him ; he was incensed by their very incense. Dr. Scott. He became quite the rage with them ; yet his rage waxeth not cool, neither was his anger appeased. Dr. Wodrow. O, that Chaldee ! it has spoiled even the Odontist. North. On proceeds " Byron my Baron," meantime, in his glorious, but not stainless, any more than gainless career. The critics of the English press in general applaud, as they ought to do, his rising and resplendent genius ; but many, very many of them, at least, have the candor and the justice to complain of the immoral, irreligious, and unpatriotic tendency of too many of his productions. Two only, and these the two highest authorities, are silent as to the faults of the splendid sinner. The Quarterly Cerberus had got a sop and as for the Edinburgh, what think ye kept its mouth mum ? Odoherty. .Could it be our old acquaintance, " Corporal Fear?" Tickler. I am inspired. Anch^io improvisator e. I shall tip you an extempore Parody on one of Mrs. Pilkington's old favorites. (Aside) You all remember "Stella, darling of the Muses." Jeffrey, darling of the Muses, Strong probation now we bring ; Knowingly, the poet chooses, Who of thee essays to sing. While his keen derision traces Every fault of form or rnind, He gets on in thy good graces Stings, but leaves no wound behind. (Plaudiie Omnes.) JEFFREY AXD BYKOX. 187 Ornnes (x'tng.) "Very good song, Very well snug, Jolly companions every one," to any thing utterly reckless that's all I can say about the matter deuced good fun ! VOL. I. 15 KOCTES AMBKOSIAN.. OJoherty. Ay, but how inferior that is to the chosen " moods of MY mind ?" On such occasions, it may almost be said I would not harm a fly. Pen Owen. The scope and tendency of some of your observations perplex me. North. I hate this sort of committee business. We're all getting into knots and corners. Owen and the Adjutant upon satire and segars Feldborg and the Odontist on the Czar of Muscovy's tooth- powder Tickler dozing and Sir Andrew Wylie and myself loft quite alone to the great topic of things in general ! Why, this will never do. Dr. Scott, (tapping his spoon against the side of the bowl, sings.) Jolly Tories, fill your glasses, Odoherly (sings) Hear the tiukle on the rim. Tickler (sings.) All the Whigs are geese and asses. North (sings.) Hollow heart and vision dim ! Chorus. Fa! la! la ! la! la ! la! la ! la! Ac. Feldborg, the Dane. Allow me to give you a little Scandinavian solo. North. (Knocking with his hammer.) Silence ! Feldborg's solo. Feldb'org (sings.) Hvern morgin ser horna, Hlock a terns ar backa, Skala hanga ma hungra, tlrae shod litud blodi Hre sigr fickin saekir, Snarla borgar karla Dynr a Brezkar bryniur Blod is Dana visi ! ! ! Dynr a Brezkar, O(Ts. Magazine, wnich first introduced the .Standard- bearer to the reading public, these two incidents n-tre mentioned, I confess. Odoherty. who was in the 44th infantry, in the battle of New Orleans, unfortunately -was prevented trorn participating in that contest, having been delayed in search of a much valued snnfl-box, which he had rnislaii!. What of that? Colonel Mullin., com- manding the U'h. was brought to a court-martial for like absence, Hike Colonel, like Ensign"! ind broke. The other liule accWent referred to by Sir Andrew, in which Mrs. M'Whirter, fate o'. Philadelphia. \v:w a tair participant, was fully explained aS the reader of " Christopher in The Tent." IP this ronime. may have >een. and if the explanation satisfied the lu.dy. -.vhy shou'.J Si- Andrew Wyii- ;a,t a reproach in OJuherty'-s face ? Al. 19G KOCTES A tux on Humbug, an excise Ou solemn plausibilities, A stamp on every man that canted ! No millions more, if these were granted, Henceforward would be raised or wanteo ; But Van, with an o'erflowing chest, Might soon forgive us all the rest"* North. Well, I think the reporter must be dry enough by this time. Come forth, thou rat i' the arras ! You shall have your share of one bowl at the least ; and thou, heir of Cym Owen, rouse thee ! rouse thee for the field ! . [Curtainfalls. Epilogue. Spoken by CHRISTOPHER NORTH, Esquire, and SIR A. WYLIE, Baronet. Mr, North. " Something too much of this !" I hear you cry Ye canting creeping vermin ! What care I ? If Whigs there be (methinks there must be some) Not in their secret souls the slaves of Hum, Let them for once speak truly ! *SVr A. Wylie. or be dumb. Mr. North. Confess it, Jeffrey, (for you needs must know) That Jest and Earnest hand in hand may go, That sober truth may be iuweaved with fun, Philosophy be pointed in a pun, Candor be calm beneath a forehead knit Keenly, yet kindly, flash the shafts of wit Kir A. Wylie. And Tories round a harmless table sit. Ur. North. Confess ; speak out, man ! Sir A. Wylie. Once upon a time You loved a joke yourself, if not a rhyme I Mr. North. Confess quaint Quizzery, though it makes one wince Sir A. Wylie. I bar what wounds a LADY or a PRINCE. Mr. North. Is, after all, not quite a hanging matter ! What, Jeffrey? Not one word for poor deai Satire? Kir A. Wylie. Well, well, I wish ye wiser, man, and fatter! Mr. North. I find I can make nothing of these Whigs. Kir A. Wylif. We'll try to do without them, please the Pigs I Mr. North. To you, to you, ye Tories of the land ! To you we turn, with you we take onr stand I Not you, ye " PLUCKLESS," who, when things look blue, Distrust a cause sublime in spite of you, Abandon those who bear the blazing brunt, And fight, ye fools, your battle in your front No ne'er to court your favor shall we stoop, Nor fawn for shelter where your crcstless eagles droop, See Letters to Julia, second edition, p. 104. By-the-by, these elegant letters are much im- proved in the second edition. The book is now quite a bijou. C. N. [Luttrell. on of tho most sparkling wiis 6( his time, who may be reproached with not having written enough. M.J EPILOGUE. 197 To shun tbe couflict but hold fast the spoil Clutch at the trophy, having shirk'd the toil Sir A. Wylie. And gloat, while others sweat, on your snug roast and boil 1 Mr, North. These are your maxims 1 Venal vapid crew 1 Low we may come, but ne'er so low as YOU ! " Low we may come !" forgive the hasty phrase, YE Tories true ! whose patronage IS praise ! High the good eminence we now possess, Nor shall we e'er be lower down Sir A Wylie, (loosening a fifth button) Or less Mr. North. While YOU our trumpet hear, and round our banner preaa. Both. Though gourdish scions of the " Servum Pecus," Rise as if glare should dim or weight should break us, Like some tough tree these pithless boughs between, Knotted and gnarled, appears THE Magazine ! Some last one summer ; some, with much ado, Spin out a speechless Life-in-Death through two ; But wanting depth of soil, and length of root, Though buds a few and blossoms they may shoot, One looks in vain to them for genuine juicy fruit, Squeeze hard ! One painful mouthful they supply, But thirsty wits must turn to US, or die I No. IV. JULY, 1822. SCENE Transferred (by poetic license) to Pisa.* Odoherty, (solus.) Jupiter strike me ! but that cabbage soup and roasted raisins is an infernal mixture Blow all Italian cookery, say I. Every thing is over-done here how inferior to the Carlingford !f The dishes done to rags. ater WAITER. Waiter. Milordo, here is questo grand Lord is come, for to have the onore of kissing the manos for sua eccellenza. Odoherty'. Kissing my what ? Show in the shaver hand him in upon a clean plate. [Exit Waiter. Enter LORD BTRON. Byron. Mr. Doherty, I trust I Odoherty. Odoherty, if you please, sir. Byron. Mr. Odoherty. I have to beg pardon for this intrusion- -but leally, hearing you were to remain but this evening in Pisa, I could not deny myself the pleasure of at least seeing a gentleman of whom I have heard and read so much I need scarcely add, that I believe myself to be in the presence of THE Odoherty. Odoherty. You may say that; but, may I take -the liberty of asking, who you are yourself? * A large portion of the preceding Noctes were written by Maginn, but that which follow- th (to wit. No. IV.) is entirely from his pen. It has so many actual points of vraitemtilanre, that even Byron himself is said to have exclaimed, after reading it. "By Jupiter! the fellow has me down regularly, in black and white." The scene was laid in Pisa, whither Byron had removed in the autumn of 1S2I, and remained until September, 1822, when he went to Genoa, and thence, in 1MJ3, to Greece. The mention of this reminds me. by the way, of what tho Guiccioh said, in her visit to London; when she was so lionized as having been the lady-lovn of Byron. She was rather fond of speaking on the subject, designating herself bysome Vene- an pet phrase which certainly was not to be found in any dictionary, but which she inter- ^ted as meaning ' Love-wife." At Pisa, he had been sounded on the subject of going to eece, where it was believed he had immense wealth, where it was known that he loved the . ountry, and had written warmly in its favor, lie was undecided. Again and again he was solicited, each time more strongly. At last, he sportively said to the Guiccioli, ' Let fourteen captains come and ask me to go, and go I will." " Ah," said the dama, " there are not fourteen Greek captains in Italy ; no'.v I know that you will remain." She mentioned, to show how slight the chance was of his leaving Italy, what he said. As it was known that he strictly adhered to his word, on all occasions, a letter was written to Greece, and fourteen captains actually were sent out. They waited on him, pressed him to go, backing their request with letters from Prince Mavrocanlato. (who offered to resign his leadership in favor of Byron.) and the result was that, what he had playfully said, teing taken for earnest, he believed he could not honorably get out of it. The result was his departure for Greece in August, 1823. 1L 1 A ticielin Dublin. M. LACRFMA CIIK!i>TI. 199 Byron. My name's Byron. Odoherty. Byron ! Lord Byron ! God bless you, my dear fellow. Sure I was a blockhead not to know you at first sight. Waiter ! waiter! waiter! I say. They don't understand even plain English in this house ! Enter WAITER. Waiter. Milordo ! Odoherty. Instantaneously a clean glass if you have any thing clean in this filthy country and, my lord, what will you drink ? I drink every thing bating water. Byron. Why, Mr. Odoherty, to be plain with you you will find but poor accommodation in these Italian inns and I should, there- fore, recommend you to come with me to my villa.* You will meet fellows there asses of the first water native, and stranger, whom you can cut-up, quiz, and humbug without end. Odoherty. With deference, my lord, I shall stay where I am 1 never knew any place where a man was so much at home as in a tavern, no matter how shy. Ho ! waiter. Waiter. Milordo ! Odoherty. What-a have-a you-a to drink-a, in this damned house-a of yours ? (Aside.) I suppose to make the fellow understand, I must speak broken English. [Lord Byron whispers waiter, who exit; and after a moment returns with two flasks of Monti fiascone.\ Byron.. Fill, Mr. Odoherty. Your health, sir ; and welcome to Italy. Odoherty. Your health, my lord ; and I wish we both were out of it. But this stuff is by no means so bad as I expected. What do you call it? Byron. Lacryma Christi. $ Odoherty. Lacryma Christi ! A pretty name to go to church with ! Very passable stingo though Inishowen is, after all, rather stifter drinking. Byron. Inishowen ! What's that 1 Odoherty. Whisky, made in the hills about Inishowen, in the nortn.l! * In July, 1822, Byron and Shelley had their town-residences at Pisa. Byron had a rU'eg' gintnra (or country house) at Mont Nero, near Leghorn Shelley's was at Lerici. Byrjn's Pisan dwelling was the Casa Lanfrancni, (on the r.ver Arno. which runs through the city,) and is said to have been built by Michael Angelo. It was in this palace that ijyron gav r<>oms to Leigh Hunt and his family, and here the first nvmber of The Liberal was pte- jared. M. t This 1 take to be a mistake. They were in the region of Mr ntepulciano. which Ue;di. (in his Hacco in Toscano 1 ') has pronounced to be The King of Wines. It is a pltasant tipp'.e. smelling lik a fresh nosegay, but, unfortunately, does not bear transportation. Jt must be drunk, not only in Italy, but in the very district where it is made. M. + There are iico wines bearing 'his name. One is light-colored, like Hock, with a flavor tcmething like aerated lemonade and sherry, weak and sweet. The other (chiefly made in tsicily) has aruby tint, is rough to the taste, being nothing more nor less than an Italian port- wine This red Lacryma Christi is much used in England to adulterate the Por'iguese per. wine The sweet, pale Lacryma, mixed with an equal portion of good I. andy, used tc make a passable libation. M. II Of Ireland. .M. 200 NOCTES AMBROSIANJ5. General Hart patronizes it much. Indeed the Lord Chancellor, old Manners, is a great hand at it. Byron. I cannot exactly say I recognize whom you speak of; nor did I ever hear of tbo liquor. Odoherty. Why, then, I wrote rather a neat song about it once on a time, which I shall just twist off for the edification of your lordship. Odoherty (sings.) 1. I care not a fig for a flagon of flip, Or a -whistling can of rumbo ; But my tongue through whisky punch will slip As nimble as Hurlothrumbo. So put the spirits on the board, And give the lemons a squeezer, And we'll mix a jorum, by the Lord ! That will make your worship sneeze, sir. 2. The French, no doubt, are famous souls, I love them for their brandy ; In rum and sweet tobacco rolls, Jamaica men are handy. The big-breech'd Dutch in juniper gin I own, are very knowing ; But are rum, gin, brandy, worth a pin, Compared with luishowen ? Extempore verse additional. Though here with a Lord, 'tis jolly and fine, To tumble down Lacryma Christi, And over a skin of Italy's wine To get a little misty ; Yet not the blood of the Bourdeaux grape, The finest grape-juice goiug, Nor clammy Constautia, the pride of the Cape, Prefer I to Inishowen. Byron. Thank ye, Mr. Odoherty. Oh ! by Jupiter, you have not been flattered ; you are a prince of good-fellows; ay, and of good- looking fellows. Odoherty The same compliment I may pay you, my Lord. I never saw you before. By-the-by, you look much older than the print which Murray gave me when I was up at the Coronation. Byron. Ah ! then you know Murray ? Murray is an excellent fellow. Not such a bookseller between the Apennine and the Grampian. Odoherty. Always excepting Ebony, my Lord ? Byron. How is Ebony ? I'm told he's been getting fat since I eaw him. SAM KOGEK3. 201 Odoherty. A porpoise. No wonder, my lord ; let them fatten who win. As for laughing, that you know, we may all screw a mouth to. Byron. On the same principle, my old friend Jeffrey must be thinning apace. Odoherty. A perfect whipping-post. But I have not seen the little man this some time. I don't think he goes much into public his book I know does not. Byron. Have you been in London lately, Mr. Odoherty 1 Odoherty. O yes, past through about a fortnight ago. But let me request your Lordship to sink the mister entirely, and call me by my name quite plain Odoherty, as it is. Byron. Certainly. Odoherty, as you wish it but you in return must sink the Lord, and let me be plain Byron. Odoherty. To be sure, Byron. Hunt, you know, called you " Dear Byron" some years ago in a dedication ;* and if you would allow the familiarity of a poor devil of a Cockney editor of a sneaking Sunday paper, you would be squeamish indeed, if you wanted to be Lorded by me. And yet, after all, Le Hunto is a cleverer fellow than, most of the Cockneys. Byron. He's worth fifty Hoggs. These plebs occasionally write good verses. Odoherty. I shan't give up Hogg. Have you seen his last work ? Byron. His last work ! I am glad to hear it has come at length. Odoherty. It is quite a Chaldee. Byron. Oh ! that's his first work. Seriously, however, I have heard nothing of him since your good-humored notice of his Life in Blackwood.f Odoherty. Thank you, Baron ! I take you. By-the-by, what a right good poem that was of yours, on old Bam Rogers. J You and I may leave off quizzing one another. We at least are too much up to trap. But the old banker was as mad as blazes about it. * The poem of " Rimini" was dedicated to Byron, by Leigh Hunt, who commenced what ho had to say in prose with the words. ''My dear Byron. Many years after, when Byron's books came to be examined, after his death, it was found that the words " My dear Byron" had been marked out, with ink, and " Impudent Varlet," in his Lordship's own hand- writing, written opposite ! M. f In the summer of 1821, there appeared in Edinburgh, a third edition of Hogg's " Mountain Bard." with an auto- biography. In Blackwood, for August, 1821, appeared a critique upon this Memoir, in which the Shepherd's adventures were greatly ridiculed particularly one sentence, on whish he positively asserted that he had written The Chaldee Manuscript, and another in which he affirmed that Blackwood's Magazine was an original suggestion of his own. It was a savage, slaughtering article, but Christopher North insisted (in Maga), that Hogg himself had written it, to gain notoriety ! M. t A set of dogrel rhymes, in which Rogers was complimented as possessing, among other personal advantages, " Features that would shame c. knocker." The story goes, that when Rogers visited Byron in Italy, the noble bard placed .he tatire, as aforesaid, under the sofa-cushion on which th banker-bard repsed, and chuckled at the idea of his sitting, as it were, on a sort of literary volcano ! M. 202 NOCTES AMBRO3IA.NJ5. Byron. Non mi ricordo. I was in a state of civilation* when I wrote it if indeed 1 did ever write such a thing. Odoherty. 'Twas Wordsworth told me of it, and I doubt he's given to humbugging much. Byron. Oh ! the old Ponder ! The great god Pan ! is he extant still ? Odoherty. Alive and sulky. He has been delivered of two octavos this spring. Byron. So have I, for that matter. Are his as heavy as mine ? Odoherty. The Giants' Causeway to a two-year old paving-stone thundering fellows, about Roman Catholic Emancipation, which he has dished into little sonnets. Yours, however, were lumpish enough, in the name of Nicholas. Byron. The sale, at least, was heavy. OJoherty. Your tributary, his Majesty, the Emperor of the West, grumh'ed like a pig in the fits, I suppose. Byron. Come, come, no personalities on this side of the Alps. Odherty. Satan reproving sin. That's pretty from you the bottle's out after w r hat Jeffrey has said of you call for another 4n tb?- last number of the Edinburgh fill your glass of the Edin- burgh Review. No bad bottle this. Byron. Why, Odoherty, you and I may joke, but such fellows as the?e to be preaching about Cain, and canting about Don Juan is too bad I once thought Jeffrey had a little brains, but now I see he is qui'e an old woman. Odoherty. Nay, by the eternal frost, and that's as great an oath as if I swore by the holy bottle, I agree with Jeff on this point. I don't care a cracked Jews-harp about him in general ; but here, faith, I must say I think him quite right. Consider, my lord consider, I say, what a very immortal work Don Juan is how you therein sport with the holiest ties the most sacred feelings tho. purest sentiments. In a word, with every thing the bottle is with you with every thing which raises a man above a mere sensual being. ] say, consider this, and you will not wonder so much that all England is in an outcry against it, as that Murray, surrounded with the rums wid buzzes of parsons as he is, should have the audacity to publish it or Sir Mungo Malagrowther Byron. Who] Odoherty. His editor now-a-days commonly called Sir Mungo DON JUAN. 203 Malagrowther. I say it is really astonishing that Murray should print, or Sir Mungo have the face not to cut up, a book so destruc- tive of every feeling which we have been taught to cherish. Byron. Are you serious, Ensign"? Odoherty. Serious as the rock of Cashel. Byron. I did not expect it. I thought this silly outcry about Don Juan and Cain was confined to the underlings of literature ; so much so, that I was astonished to find even Jeffrey joining in it but that you, one of the first and most enlightened men of the ag^, should adopt it that Ensign and Adjutant Morgan Odoherty should be found swelling in the Avar- whoop of my antagonist Dr. Southey, is indeed more than I expected. Odoherty. I am not an old quiz, like Malagrowther and the Laure- ate : yet, my Lord Byron, I am a man and an Englishman, (I mean an Irishman,) and disapprove of Don Juan. Byron. The devil ye do ! Why, most illustrious rival of Dr. Magnus Oglethorpe, why ? Odokerty. I have already sufficiently explained myself. Byron. You have uttered nothing, sir, but the common old hum- bug. In Don J uan I meant to give a flowing, free satire on things as they are. I meant to call people's attention to the realities of things. I could make nothing of England or France. There every thing is convention surface cant. I had recourse to the regions where nature acts more vividly, more in the open light of day. I meant no harm, upon my honor. I meant but to do what any other man might have done with a more serious face, and had all the Hannah Mores in Europe to answer his Plaudite. Odoherty. I cloirt follow your lordship. Byron. Not follow me, sir ? Why, what can be more plain than my intention 1 I drew a lively lad, neglected in his education, strong in his passions, active in his body, and lively in his brains; would you have had me make him look as wise as a Quarterly Reviewer \ Every boy must sow his wild oats; wait till Don Juan be turned of fifty, and if I don't represent him as one of the gravest and most devout Tories in the world, may I be hanged. As yet he has only been what Dr. Southey once was, "a clever boy, thinking upon poli- tics (and other subjects) as those who are boys in mind, whatever their age may be, do think." Have patience. The Don may be Lord Chancellor ere he dies. Odoherty. The serious charge is your warmth of coloring. Byron. Look at Homer, remember the cloud scene. Look at Vir- gil, remember the cave-scene. Look at Milton, remember the bower- scene, the scene of " nothing loth." Why, sir, poets are like their heroes, and poets represent such matters (which all poets do and 204 NOCTE5 AMBROSIAN^E. must represent) more or less warmly, just as they are more or less men. Odoherty. Well, but what do you say for Cain? 'Tis blas ; phemous. Byron. Not intentionally, at least but I cannot see that it is so at all. You know for I suppose you know theology as well as you know everything else. Odoherty. Like Dr. Magee an old friend of mine, who has lately been made an Archbishop.* Byron. You know then that there is no question so puzzling in all divinity no matter under what light you view it as the origin of evil. There is no theory whatever 1 say not one and you may take your countryman, Archbishop King's, among thcm,f which is not liable to great objection, if the objectors be determined to cavil. Now I assert, and that fearlessly, that it is quite possible to reconcile my scheme, bating a few poetical flights of no moment, with views and feelings perfectly religious. 1 engage to write a commentary on Cain, proving it beyond question a religious poem. Odoherty. Warburton did the same for the Essay on Man but convinced nobody.J Byron. And yet Warburton was a Bishop yea, more than a bishop one of your brightest, deepest, profoundest, most brilliant theologians. I only ask you to extend to me the same indulgence you extend to Milton ay, even to Cumberland if his Calvary be still extant. Odoherty. Nay, my lord, there is this difference. The intention of Milton and Cumberland makes a vast distinction. They wrote poems to promote religion your lordship wrote Byron. Mr. Odoherty, I presume nay, I know I am talking to a gentleman. I have disclaimed irreligious intention, and I demand, as a gentleman, to be believed. Cain is like all poems in which spiritual matters are introduced. The antagonist of Heaven of whom the Prometheus of ^Eschylus is the prototype cannot be made to speak in such terms, as may not be perverted by those who wish to pervert. I defy any man I repeat it I defy any man to show me a speech a line in Cain, which is not defensible on the * Dr. William Magee. author of "Discourses on the Scriptural Doctrines of the Atonement and Sacrifice," (directed against the tenets of the Unitarians,) after having been Dean of Cork and Bishop of Raphoe, was made Archbishop of Dublin, in 182:2. He died in 1831. M. T Dr. William King. Archbishop of Dublin, born in 1650, died in 17:29. In his treatise " De Origins Mali," or the origin of evil, he undertook to show how all the several kinds of evil with which the world abounds are consistent with the goodness of God, and may be accounted for without the supposition of an evil principle. M. + Dr. William Warburton, Bishop of Glocester. (author of the Divine Legation of Moses,) published, in a periodical entitled The Works of the Learned, a vindication of Pope, who had bxen charged with having evinced a tendency to Spinocism and naturalism, in his Kssay 'n Mau. When this poem was translated into French, it had been skilfully attacked, on the abovo {.rounds, by Professor Crousaz, of Switzerland. Pope eventually declared that he never had any nuenlion of propagating the principlesof Bolingbroke, and that Warburton had made nil (!'<>;.') views clearer even to himself! M. HUMBUG OF REVIEWS. 205 same principle as the haughty speech of Satan, in the fifth book of Milton or the proud defiance of Moloch in the second. In both poets I beg pardon in the poet, and in Cain, speeches torn from the context, and misinterpreted by the malevolent or the weak- minded, r.iay be made to prove what was directly contrary to the intention of the writer. Odnaerly. To be sure, as Chief Baron O'Grady says, in his Letter to Mr. Gregory, remove the words " the fool has said in his heart ;" arid you can prove by Scripture that " there is no God." Byron. I know nothing of your Chief Baron, but what he says is true and it is so, that I have been criticised. I don't complain of Lord Eldon. Perhaps it became his high station to deliver the judg- ment he did perhaps it was right he should bend to public opinion which opinion, however, I shall for ever assert, was stimulated by a party of more noise than number. But I do confess for I was born an aristocrat that I was a good deal pained when I saw my books, in consequence of his decree, degraded to be published in sixpenny numbers by Benbow, with Lawrence's* Lectures Southey's Wat Tyler Paine's Age of Reason and the Chevalier de Faublas. Odoherty. I am sorry I introduced the subject. If I thought 1 should have in the slightest degree annoyed your lordship Byron. I am not annoyed, bless your soul ; there is nothing I like better than free discussion. That, you know, can never be, except between men of sense. As for all your humbug of Reviews, Maga- zines, &c., why, you are, at least, as much as any man alive, up to their nothingness. Odoherty. 'Tis the proudest of my reflections, that I have some- what contributed to make people see what complete stuff all that affair is. Byron. I admire your genius, Mr. Odoherty : but why do you claim this particular merit ? Odoherty. Merely as a great contributor to Blackwood. That work has done the business. Byron. As how, friend Morgan ? Odoherty. Call another flask, and I'll tell you Ay, now fill a bumper to old Christopher. B>/ron. With three times three with all my heart. The immortal Kit North!!! !!! !!! (Bibunt ambo.) O'dohcrty. Why, you see, what with utterly squabashing Jeffrey and what with giving Malagrowther an odd squeeze or so, but most lished, having got into print, the law did not allow an injunction on its sale, inasmuch as it was a republican poem. In i836 Southey included Wat Tylfr in his collected works, without tltciing a line of it, and it certainly does not appear so republican as was originally rtpn> wmtod. M. 20C NOCTES AMBR08IANJ2. of all, by doing ill that ever these folks could do in one Number mi then undoing it in the next, puffing, deriding, sneering, jeering prosing, piping, and so forth, he has really taken the thing into his own hands, and convinced the Brutum Pecus that 'tis all quackery and humbug. Byron. Himself included ? Odoherty. No not quite that neither. As to two or three prin ciples I mean religion, loyalty, and the like, he is always as stiff as it poker; and although he now and then puts in puffs on mediocre fell.tws, every body sees they're put in merely to fill the pages ; and the moment he or any of his true men set pen to paper, the effect is instantaneous. His book is just like the best book in the world it contains a certain portion of Balaam. Byron. And this sort of course, you think, has enlightened the public? Odoherty. Certain and sure it has. People have learnt the great lesson, that Review's, and indeed all periodicals, merely qua such, are nothing. They take in his book not as a Review, to pick up opinions of new books from it, nor as a periodical, to read themselves asleep upon, but as a classical work which happens to be continued from month to month ; a real Magazine of mirth, misanthropy, wit, wis- dom, folly, fiction, fun, festivity, theology, bruising, and thingumbob. lie unites all the best materials of the Edinburgh, the Quarterly, and the Sporting Magazine the literature and good writing of the first the information and orthodoxy of the second, and the flash and trap of the third. Byron. You speak con amore, sir : Why the devil am I cut up and parodied in Ebony ? Odoherty. Come, come, pop such questions to the marines ! Have you ever been half so much cut up there as I have been 1 Fill your glass! Here's to Humbug. Three times three, my lord ! No two men alive should fill higher to that toast than AVC that are here pre- sent, thank God ; and I'm very glad to be here, with my legs under the same board with the author of Cain and Don Juan. Byron. What, after abusing .them both so savagely just this moment. Odoherty . So I do still ; but I had rather have written a page 01 Juan than a ton of Childe Harold that was too great a bore entirely. Byron. Well, waive my works in toto. How is Sir Walter Scott? Odoherty. I have not seen him for nearly six months ; but he is quite well, and writing Peveril of the Peak ; that is, if he be the Author of Waverley. Byron. Which he is. Odoherty. I won't swear to that, knowing what I do about Anasta- THE PERIODICALS. 207 sins. Did you see how Hope bristled up in the back in Blackwooc, \vhf>u somebody, I forget who, perhaps myself, said that you were guilty of that most admirable book ? Byron. Yes, but no matter. Could you give me any more infer mation de re periodical'^ as the Baron of Bradwardine would ha/e said ? Qdolierty. \ shall sing a stave touchant that point 1. ! gone are the days, when the censure or praise, Of the Monthly was heard with devotiou ; "When the sight of the blue of old Griffith's Review,* Set each heart in a pit-a-pat motion ; We care not a curse, now, for better or worse, For the prate of the maundering old mumper; And, siuce it is dead, why, no more can be said, Than " Destruction to Cant" in a bumper. o When the sense of the town had the Monthly put down, Mr. Jeffrey a new caper started : Every fourth of a year he swore to appear, To terrify all the faint-hearted. Then with vigor and pith, Brougham, Jeffrey, and Smith, Began to belabor the natives ; Who, bother'd at first by their bravo and burst, Sunk under the scribblers like caitiffs. 8. Quite vex'd at their blows, Johuny Murray arose, Assisted by mild Billy Giffurd The Edinburgh work he squabash'd like a Turk, So that folks <1o not now care a whiff for't. But soon such a gang, there grew up slap-bang, Of scribblers and nibblers reviewing, That people got sick of the horrible trick, And it almost had set them a-sp g. 4. But a figure of light soon burst on their sight, In Bill Ebony's beautiful page- 1 Th<> immortal Kit North in his glory came forth, With his cycle of satellite sages. He can cant, it is true he can sport a review, Now and then, when it suits his devices ; But who trusts to his prog is a bothersome dog, If he says he is stingy of spices. Byron. Not a bad song ! Cazzo. I have quite lost the knack of Bong-writing. Tom Moore is the best at it now alive. * Dr. Griffith -was Editor of The Monthly Review for many years. The Monthly M>- tine was conducted by .Mr R-Vhard Phillips. M. 208 NOCTES AMBROSIANJE. Odoherty. The present company excepted, you mean ; but truly, my lord, I don't care a tester for that piperly poet of Green Erin, I don't think he ever wrote one real good song in his days. He wants pith, by Jericho ! and simplicity, and straight-forward meaning. He's always twining and whining. Give me youi old stave. Byron. You prefer Burns, perhaps, now you've been so long a Scotchman, and heard all their eternal puffing of one another. Odoherty. Poh ! poh ! I was too old a cat for that straw. Burns wrote five or six good things ; Tarn o'Shanter, M'Pherson's Lament, Farewell, thou fair Earth, Mary's Dream, the Holy Fair, the Stanzas to a Louse on a Lady's Bonnet, and perhaps a few more ; but the most of his verses are mere manufacture the most perfect common- place about love and bowers, and poverty, arid so forth. And as for his prose, why, Gad-a-mercy ! 'tis execrable. 'Tis worse than Hogg's worst, or Allan Cunningham's best. His letters are enough to make a dog sick. Byron. Come, you are too severe; Burns was a noble fellow, although Jeffrey abused him. But indeed that was nothing. After praising the Cockneys, who cares what he reviles ] Odoherty. Not I. Byron. No, no ; I don't suspect you of any such folly. Pray, have you seen any of our Italian Improvisatores as yet ? What do you think of their art? Odoherty. That I can beat it. Byron. In English or Irish 1 Odoherty. In any language I know Latin or Greek, if you like them. Byron. Try Latin, then. Odoherty. Here's Ritson. Turn him over ; I'll translate any song you like off-hand. Byron. Here, take this one " Back and side go bare." 'Tis not the worse for having a bishop for its father.* Odoherty. Old Still must have been a hearty cock, here goes. Kead you the English, and I'll chaunt it in Latin, f BYRON READS. CANTAT DOHERTIADES. 1. 1. Backe and side go bare, go bare, Sint nuda dorsum, latera Both foot and hande go colde : Pes, maims, algens sit ; But, belly e, God sende thee good ale y enough, Dum ventri veteris copia Whether it be newe or olde. Zythi novive fit * John Still, Bishop of Bath and Wells, flourished in the reign of Elizabeth, and died in 1607. I'.e is the reputed author of " Gammer Gurton's Needle," a dramatic piece of low humor, very characteristic of the manners of fhe English in that day. The fine old chant, ''Back and sid g.s i:3re," is introduced into this drama. M. 1 I iiia Latin version has been considered one of Maginn's best translations. It gives not only 'he actual meaning, but the measure, witn rhymes and double rhymes. M. BISHOP STILL'S CHANT. 209 f cannot eat but lytle meatc. My etomacke is not good ; But sure 1 tlimke that I can drynke With him that weares a hood. Though I go bare, take ye no care, I am nothing a cokle; I stuff my skyn so full within, Of jolly good ale and olde. liacke and side go bare, go bare, Both foote and hande go colde ; But, bellye, God sencle thee good ale enoughe, Whether it be iiewe or olde. 2. I love no rost, but a nut-browne toste, And a crab laid in the fyre ; A little breade shall do me stead, Much breade I not desyre. 7.^o frost nor snow, nor wiude, I trowe, Can hurt me if I wolde ; I am so wrapt, and throwly lapt, Of jolly good ale aud olde, Backe and side go bare, wa* acquainted with nearly all the dead, and m<>st of the living tongues. M. 1 Dr. Watkins was a tort of general life-writer. He compiled Memoirs of Byron, which fft'd very well, and wrote a Life of liheridan, composed from newspaper paragraphs, play-books, iid Parliamentary reports. M. BYEON AND BLACKWOOD. 211 old grim ancestors and newspapers, magazines, and other authentic vehicles of intelligence supply the rest. Odoherty. \ can assure you, my lord, it imposed on many simple, chuckleheaded, open-mouthed people, as your Autobiography. Byron. Impossible. An idiot must have known that 1 had not any thing to do with it, even from its style. Odoherty. Style as to style, that is all fudge. I myself have written in all kind of styles from Burke to Jeremy Bcntharn. But I assure your lordship the mob charge you with these Memoirs. Byron. Why, really some people believe me capable of any kind of stuff. You remember I was accused of writing puffs for Day and Martin. OdoJierty. A calumny, I know, my dear Byron, for / am myself author of them. By the way, have you heard the epigram on your disclaimer ? Byron. No tell it me^ I hope it is good. Odoherty. You shall judge. ON READING THE APPENDIX TO LORD BYRON's TRAGEDY OF THE TWO FOSCARI. Is Byron surprised that bis enemies say He makes puffing verses for Martin and Day ? Why, what other task could his lordship take part in More fit than the service of Day, and of Martin ? So shining, so dark all his writing displays A type of this liquid of Martin and Day's Gouvernantes Kings laurel-crown'd Poets attacking Oh ! he's master complete of the science of Blacking 1 Byron. No great affair. But there are " many more too long" to trouble you with, which the public give me credit for. Odoherty. As for instance, the attack on Ebony. Give me a speci- men of that or give me the thing itself, and I shall make him print it. Byron. It is too stale now ; besides, I have quite forgotten it. Murray has the only copy I know of and I shall write to him to give it to you on your return.* Odoherty. Thank you and a copy of the Irish Advent, too ? Byron. Hush ! Hush ! Odoherty. You need not be afraid of me, my lord, I have seen it ; there are a dozen copies in existence. Byron, Let's change the subject. Giving my Memoirs was not the first trick Colburn served me. You remember the Vampire affair. * The Letter to the Editor of Blackwood's Magazine -was first printed in 1S30, in Moore's Byron. M. 212 NOCTES AMBROSIAN.E. Odoherty. Ah ! poor Jack Polidori ! Lord rest him. Polidovi was bribed on the occasion.* Byron, I am sorry for it. I once thought him a fair fellow. But you see in this catchpenny Life how Col burn's hack pretends to censure the forgery, though his employer was the sole planner and manager of the affair and it was he who got some people in the Row to father the published pamphlet the separate one, you know. Odoherty. Ay and I heard, on authority which I believe, that Colburn cancelled a disavowal of your being the author, which some person had written and prefixed to the notice of the Vampire in the New Monthly. Byron. Hand me the brandy, that I may wash my mouth after mentioning such things. How is the New Monthly 1 Odoherty. Dying hard. Nobody of talent about it except Camp- bell himself, who is too lazy. As for ******* ***** ***** arid other mere asses Byron. I have never heard of the worthies you mention. Odoherty. By jingo, I am sure of that. * * * * is a great officer. He sits in the theatre taking notes, as magisterially as a judge does on a trial, and with as much dignity. Byron. Transeat. Murray sends me shoals of periodicals. There appears to be a swarm of them lately, and I find I am a popular subject for all. Not a fellow takes pen in hand without criticising me. Odoherty. Oxoniensis gave you, or rather Murray, a good rib- roasting. I trouble you tor the bottle. Byron. I think too harshly but the Oxonians are great big-wigs. Odoherty. Oh ! thundering teai'ers, in their own opinion. I remember ****, \vho, n'importe going into Co vent Garden a few years ago, simultaneously with the Prince Regent. The audience, of course, rose out of respect to his Royal Highness, and remained for some time standing ; on which the delighted Tyro hot from Rhedycina, exclaimed God bless my soul these good people, who mean well, I dare say, have been informed that I am in the first class, and about to stand for Oriel, f Byron. Ha ! ha ! ha ! I shall, however, look back always with pleasure to the days, When smitten first with sacred love of song, I roamed old Oxford's hoary piles among ;\ * When Byron was in Switzerland, in 1810. the Shelleys and himself agreed that each should write a prose story. Mrs. Shelley produced ' Frankenstein," Byron wrote a fragment, and Dr. J'olidori. (his physician.) wrote a tale called "The Vampire." which has repeatedly been dramatized, although very deficient in literary merit. 'When Polidori came to Kiig- land. he published this story as Byron's, which drew a disclaimer from the noble pcet I'jlldori finally perished by his own hand. M. t For a Fellowship? M. ' 'ib.rinn has a Inpsus pennrr, here. It was not "old Oxford's hoary pile* among" which Byix-n roamed. H was a member of Trinity College, Cambridge. 21 JOHN CLAKE. 213 and forgive Oxoniensis, -whom I know. But let us return. I do not want information about the great magnates of your English literature or those reputed such but I should wish to hear something of the minors the insect tribes. Who are your magazine, &c., scribblers ? Odoherty. Innumerable as the snipes in the bog of Allen. There is Clare poetizing for the London. Byron. An over-puffed youth, that plough-boy appears to be. Odoherty. He may have written some pretty things, but he is taken now to slum, scissoring, namby-pamby, and is quite spoiled- Rut it is a good thing to have a good conceit of one's self, and that's the boy who has it. He has pitted himself against Hogg, whom he considers as his inferior. Byron. Quelle gloire! they should have an amabean contention, like the clowns in Virgil. Suggest this to North, with my compli ments. Odoherty. Surely it is a good hint. But Clare never will write any thing like the " Dedication to Mr. Grieve," or " The Flying Tailor of Ettrick," until he is boiled again. Byron. I am told he is a delicate retiring young man. And that's more than can be said of you, Ensign and Adjutant. You have beer, always too much a lady's man. Odoherty. Ay, and so has somebody else who shall be nameless. I have had, I t;ike it, somewhere about 144 pretty little bantlings God bless them of all colors in various quarters of the globe. Byron. You would be a useful man in a new colony. Why don't you take the Quarterly hint, and settle in Shoulder of Mutton Bay Van Diemen's Land ? Odoherty. Thank you for the hint as much as to say, I ought to be sent across the water to Botany. But to the insects. Taylor, also, its publisher, is a writer for the London. He continues Johnson's Lives of the Poets ! Byron, Surely you joke.* It is as good a jest as if Hazlitt were to take it into his head to continue Chesterfield. Odoherty. Yet such is the fact. But don't mention it ; for Taylor, who really is a decent fellow, wishes it to be kept secret, being heartily sick of the concern. There are fifty other " Gentlemen of the Press," but really they are too obscure to bother your lordship with. Some new periodical name unknown is supported by Proctor, the great tragedian. Byron. Nay, I am jealous of Cornwall, as of a superior poet. His Mirandola floated proudly through the theatre. My Faliero was damned. * The continuation was written, not by John Tayl'or, but by Gary, the translator o! JJ/xnta. M. 214 NOCTES AMBROSIANA'. Odoherty. I know it was d d ungenteel in Elliston to put it in the way of being so.* But there is no making a silk purse out of a sow's ear. Byron. How is my old friend, " My Grandmamma's Review, the British ?" Odoherty. Just as merry and jocular as ever but the British Critic is dying. Rivington has started the Monthly Literary Censor, it is said, to supersede it. Byron. And my old foe, the Literary Gazette ? Odoherty. Doing well. But what need you be so thin-skinned as to mind such little flea-bites ? Byron Fleblt et insignis tota cantabitur urbe. Faith, I don't like to be pestered with impunity. Has it any rivals ? Odoherty. Lots. Valpy set up the Museum, a weekly paper, f the other day, against it. When I tell you that black-letter Tom Fogrurn Dibdin J is the chief hand, I need not add that it is dull and harmless. Byron. No that's pretty evident. But truce with periodical chit-chat. Odoherty. Shall I give you news from Parnassus ? Byron. No no no I am sick of that. Did you see my Wer- ner and my New Mystery ? Odoherty. Yes Murray showed them to me in sheets. Byron. Well, what did you think of them ? Odoherty. Like every thing that comes from your lordship's pen, they are tinged with the ethereal hues of genius, and perfumed with fragrance of the flowers that grow upon the brink of Helicon. Byron. Ho ! I see, my friend, you have joined the Irish school of oratory. But as that goes for nothing, what do you, without trope or figure, think of them ? Odoherty. Seriously, my lord, I admire them when they are good, and dislike them when they are bad. (Aside.) That is, I like five pages, and dislike fifty. (To Lord .) But, my lord, why do you not try your hand at your own old style the tale the occasional poetry ; you know what I mean 1 * As the law then stood, once that a play was printed, a manager might put it on the stage, without payment to the author, or even asking Ms permission. Elliston, when manager of Drury Lane, in 1821, produced "Marino Faliero," though Byron, in the preface, had said that it was neither intended nor written for the stage. It did not succeed in representation. M. t The British Review, British Critic, Monthly Literary Censor, rnd Museum, have long been of the past. M. J Thomas Frognall Dibdin, nephew of the song-writer, was a zealous bibliographer. Originally intended for the law, he entered the church in 1804. His " Bibliomania," which at once established his character as a writer, was published in 1809, and was followed by a variety of books, on a great many subjects. Of these, the most remarkable is a " Biographical, Antiquarian, and Picturesque Tour." (on the Continent, in 1818), and his " Reminiscences of a Literary Life," in 1836. He was one of the founders of the Roxburghe Club, in 1812, and died in 1847, aged seventy-two. I knew him in his later years, and found him full of literary information, and as eager to communicate as I was to receive it. He was small in stature with a countenance expressive of much firmness, and a profusion of gray hair. M. ISMALL rrrz-ADAM. 215 JByron. Because I am sick of being imitated. I revolt at the idea of the lower orders making desperate attempts to climb the arduou? mount. I have been publicly accused of seducing, by my example, youths Doom'd their fathers' hopes to cross, To pen a stanza when they should engross. And I shall not, at least just now I think I shall not lead the way for sentimental and poetical hard-handed and hard-headed good people to follow. There is no danger of their following me into the lofty region of tragedy. Odoherty. Whew ! Why, you are playing the aristocrat with a vengeance. There is, however, one lowly poet whom I would recom- mend to your attention. Byron. Whom? Odoherty. He is so modest, that he does not wish his name to be mentioned, and writes his " lays" under the title of Ismail Fitz- Adam.* Byron. I never heard of him. Odoherty. I did not imagine you did : and yet he has written some things which would not have disgraced the pen of a Byron. I could not say more of any man, (Lord B. bows and smiles.) Nay, my lord, 1 am quite in earnest ; and though very poor, and only a common sailor, he has that spirit of independence which I hope will always animate our navy, and refuses all direct pecuniary assistance. Byron. What, in heroics again ! But he is quite right. Do his books sell? Odoherty. Not as they ought very slowly. Byron. I am sorry for 'it. On your return, bid Murray put my name down for fifty copies. Odoherty. You were always a gentleman, my lord : but the bottle is out, and I am some hundred yards distant from civilation yet. Byron. Pardon me do as you like ; but I shall not drink any more. Odoherty. Not till the next time, you mean. Could I get a song out of your lordship ? Byron. On what subject ? Odoherty. On any. Parody one of your own serious humbugs Suppose " There's not a joy that life can give." Byron. Very well here goes accompany me on the pipes, which I see you have brought with you to alarm the Italians.! In 1820, Ismail Fitz-Adj.m published a spirited poem called "The Harp of the Desert," descriptive of the battle of Algiers. In 1821, he brought out " Lsyson Land," which attracted considerable notice. In June, lfe*23, he died. This author's real name was John Mackn, anil he was a native of Ireland. Although of respectable family ind classically educated, ho served as a common sailor in the Battle of Algiers, in 1SI6. M. T The bag-pipes are nearly as well known, and as much flayed n, in thn North of Italy, as in Scotland. M. 216 NOCTES AMBROSIAJS^E. SONG. THERE'S NOT A JOY THAT LIFE CAN GIVE,* &c. Tune Grand March in Scipio. I. There's not a joy that WINE can give like that it takes away, When slight intoxication yields to drunkenness the sway, Tis not that youth's smooth cheek its blush surrenders to the nose , But the stomach turns, the forehead burns, and all our pleasure goes. 2. Then the few, who still can keep their chairs amid the smash'd decanters, Who wauton still in witless jokes, and laugh at pointless banters The magnet of their course is gone for, let them try to walk, Their legs, they speedily will find as jointless as their talk. 3. Then the mortal Lotness of the brain, like hell itself, is bnrning, It cannot feel, nor dream, nor think 'tis whizzing, blazing, turning The heavy wet, or port, or rum, has mingled with our tears, And if by chance we're weeping drunk, each drop our cheek-bone sears. 4. Though fun still flow from fluent lips,] and jokes confuse our noddles Through midnight hours, while punch our powers insidiously enfuddlea, 'Tis but as ivy leaves were worn by Bacchanals of yore, To make them still look fresh and gay while rolling on the floor. 5. Oh! could /walk as 1 'have walk'd, or see as I have seen ; Or even roll as I have done on many a carpet green As port at Highland inn seems sound, all corjdsh though it be, So would I the Borachio kiss, and get blind drunk with thee. Odoherty. Excellent most excellent. Byron. Nay, I don't shine' in parody Apropos, de bottes Do /ou know any thing of Bowles ? Odoherty. Your antagonist ? Byron. Yes. Odoherty. I knc\\ he's a most excellent and elegant gentleman, who gave your lordship some rubbers.f Byron. I flatter myself he had not the game altogether in his own The actual title of these "Stanzas tor Music," (as they are called in Byron's Poems,) is tot correctly given here. The first stanza runs thus: " There's not a joy the world can (rive like that it takes away, When the glow of early thought declines in feeling's dull decay; 'Tis not on youth's smooth cheek the blush alone, which fades so fast, But the tender bloom of heart is gone, ere youth itself be past." These lines bear date March, 1815. M. t The ipsisima verbn are ' ; Though wit may flash from fluent lips." M. j One of Bowles's pamphlets, during the controversy with Byron, on the merits of Pope, as & Ct, had the motto ''He who plays at fio>o'es must expect rubbers." This was about th t thing in the work. M. WILLIAM L. BOWLES. 217 hands. He, indeed, is a gentlemanlike man, and so was All Pacha but a heretic with respect to Pope. By-the-by, is not Murray going to give a new edition of the great Ethic, the Bard of Twick en ham 1 Odoherty. No, not now. He was, but in the mean time Roscoe, the gillyflower of Liverpool, announced his intention of coming forth and Murray's editor declined. His Western Majesty, however, took the merit of declining it himself, arid made a great matter of his condescension to Roscoe, who swallowed it. In the meantime, one of Murray's huff-caps cut Roscoe to pieces, in the review of Washington Irving's Sketch Book, in the Quarterly. Byron. Ha ! ha ! Well done, Joannes de Moravia. But is Bowles as thin-skinned as ever with respect to criticism ? Odoherty. No I should think not. Tickler, at Ambrose's, drew rather a droll description of him the other night, painting him in a shovel-hat, &c., which somehow or other got into print, and Bowles was quite tickled by it. Byron. The devil he was ! Odoherty. Ay, and accepted the office of bottle-holder to North, in the expected turn-up between Christopher and Tom Moore,* in the most handsome manner possible, chanting a la Pistol, Thou hast produced me in a gown and band, And shovel, oh ! sublimest Christopher, And I shall now thy bottle holder be, Betting my shovel to a 'prentice cap, That neither Torn, nor Byron \_ineaning you,my lord,~\ will stand up A single moment 'gainst your powerful facers, When you set to in fistic combat fairly. But now that I have told you so much about British literature, give me something of the literature of this, I am sorry to say it, your adopted country. Byron. I might perhaps shock your political principles. Odoherty. 1 have not any. So push on. Byron. This poor country is so misgoverned Odoherty. Ay, so your man Hobhouse says Byron. What, Ilobbio mobbio Psha ! But really the Austrian domination is so abom (Left speaking.) * Blackirond. for January. 1823, opened with a truculent Preface, in very large type, in vrh'.ch Christopher North stated that he happened to know that Moore had written a satirical poem on the Masrazine and its contriH. tors, and recommended him not to publish it; adding that, if he did, Mor'.h would republish it, so as to fill the right-hand columns of about a dozen pages of trie Magazine, and to fill the left-hand column with original verses, on the same measure, (what- ever that might be) upon Moore. To have fair play in this set-to, Christopher suggested that umpires i.e appointed from among the friends of the distinguished combatants, ' vVe appoint fjr ourselves Neat [the pngi'ist] a.nd the Rev. William Lisle Bowles and wesuggest toAloure, in the true spirit of British courage, Gas [also a bozer] and Mr. Montgomery, the "author of thu Wu-ld before the Flood." In the words of the Ring, I liave to state that Moore did nut came lu ike scialck ! M. 238 NOCTES AMUROHAN.E. Hfletricum Symposium 2lmbrostanum. SEU PROPINATIO POETIOA NORTH!.* COME, Morgan, fill up my boy, handle the ladle, The brat in old Ireland is sent to the cradle Get out of those dumps, man, they hurt soul and body Put a stick in the bowl, my boy, push round the toddy. That's right, my brave Ensign, what spirit now lightens From out your two eyes how your brow it up-brigbtens You now look yourself, man, and not a fa Werter, When you near blew your brains out for Mrs. M'Whirter. And now since we're merry, come fill up the glasses We'll drink to our Poets, (we've toasted our lasses,) To all the high bards of our beautiful Islands, From famed Counemara, all round to the Highlands. A bumper, my boys, here's the profligate Baron * Who his Pegasus broke to a Tragedy Garron" In carrying logs to the temple of Belus, To burn that half man they call Sardanapalus. His Lordship, who, in the dull play, the Foscari, Wrote worse than e'er Cockneyland's regent, mild Barry, And whose fame and whose genius came down to their Zero In the robberies and wretchedness of Faliero. He with folly inflated, with vanity reeling, And mocking at nature, at morals, and feeling, At the pride of the brave, at the tears of the tender, And who cares for them all and their ties not a bender. Who spouts out more venom than an Amphisboena On the land of his birth ; and, like laughing Hyena, Mocks at the brave country, he scarce should dare dream on At whose blood and whose glory he sneer'd like a demon. Who in Italy lives, and who babbles of slavery, And who lately displayed his higli mettle and bravery, In hotly pursuing an old drunken sergeant 4 On his arms he should quarter a halbert in argent. This chant, too full of personalities not to be Riven, appeared in Blackwood, July, 1323, William. Wordsworth, born in April, 1770, died in 1850. His Descriptive Sketches appeared in 1793; Lyrical Ballads, in 1798; Poems in 1807; The Excursion, in 1814 ; White l)oe ol Rylstone, in 1815 ; Peter Bell, in 1819 ; Sonnets, in 1820; Memorials of a Tour on the Continent, in IsiJ, and Poems of Early Years, in Ib42. M. ' Samuel Taylor Coleridge, born in 1770, died in 1834. M. NOCTES AMBKOSIAK/K Success to the Bard of the Bay ! may be wear it Till we see from his temples one worthy to tear it And, though his hexameters are somewhat mouthy, This glass will make greener the laurel of Suuthey. 1 * And, after tbe Minstrel of Roderic and Maduc, We'll be pardou'd to give our poetical Sadoc, Mad Shelly," the wild atheist Coryphceus, Whose Poems and Thoughts are a " Curse and a Chaos.'' Now, here's Billy Bowles,' 4 both for epic and sonnet, Who Lord Byron has bother'd, I lay my life on it Aud here's our best wish to the long-sodden'd flummery, So thick and so slab, of mild Jemmy Montgomery." And here's the Poetical Bank of Sam Rogers Firm still by the aid of old England's old Codgera, Whose notes are as good as those given by Lord Fanny, 1 * Or Lord Byron, who puffs them a critical zany. 17 Here's Milman, the Idol of Square caps at Oxford, Though his verses will scarce ever travel to Foxford ; 18 His Pegasus broken, no longer is skittish, Though he's pufFd in the Quarterly, puff d in the British. Though his verse stately be as the dance call'd the Pyrrhic, And his high harp be tuned to the epic and lyric, Yet we fear that his glory but stubble is built on. And his hymns we scarce fancy quite equal to Milton. For of late we remember of nothing grown tamer, Than the steed that bore " Fazio," and paced under " Samor ;" And the " Martyr," " Belshaz/ar/' and " Fall of Jerusalem," We think will scarce live to the age of Methusalem. 19 Here's to splendid John Wilson, 20 and John Wilson Croker,* 1 Whose satire's as dreadful as Jarvie's red poker, >' Robert Southey, born 1774, died 1843. He was appointed Poet Laureate in 1813. A inrre lecdpitulation of his writings would fill a page. M. ''Percy Bysshe Shelley, born in 1792, drowned in the Gulf of Lerici, on the Italian :oast, July 8, 1823. No man, in his life, more thoroughly opposed the conventionalities of sc;iety. Few have exhibited higher poetic genius. M. 14 William Lisle Bowles, (.born in 1762, died in 1850), whose sonnets, published in 1789. first drew Coleridge's attention to poetry. M. 16 James Montgomery, born in 1771. died in 1854. He belonged to what nas been called the Evangelical School of Poetry, and such of his compositions as are not religious, are serious and moral. His "World before the Flood," "The Pelican Island," and some sacred songs and lyrics will preserve his reputation, as a second-rate poet. M. 16 This can surely require no explanation. C. N. "Samuel Rogers, born in 17GO, published an Ode to Superstition, in 1787; Pleasures of Memory, in 1792 ; Epistle to a Friend, in 1798 ; Vision of Columbus, and Jacqueline, in 1814 ; Human Life, in 1819 ; and Italy, in 1822. It is by his Pleasures of Memory, that Rogers will rest be remembered as a poet of great taste and skill, the workmanship being better than the materials, as in Ovid's Palace of the Sun. M. 10 West of Ireland, ni/altor or elsewhere, inter barbaros . C. N. " Henry Hart Miirr.a,n, now Dean of St. Paul's Cathedral. London, author of many dramatic f'opms, (of which "Fazio" alone is acted or actable,) a variety of prose histories, and many critical articles in the Quarterly Review. M. M A full memoir of " Splendid John Wilson." is given in the second volume of this edition if The Noctes: " For particulars, inquire within." M. 1 John Wilson Croker, born in Ireland, in 17SO, Secretary of the Admiralty from 1S09 t METRICUM SYMPOSIUM. 221 Who cut up poor Joe, and that booby the other 7 * As Joe foi economy cut up his brother. Now fill up a bumper for Catiline Croly, 2 ' The compeer of Massiuger, Fletcher, and Rowley, And confusion to Elliston, Kemble, and Harris, Who were blind to the beams of the author of " Paris." Now, the bards of the drama from Ireland all tragic Here's first Nosy Maturin, the mild and the magic, Who into a ball-room as gracefully twitches, As Bertram fourth act enters buttoning his breeches. May his stays never crack while quadrilling 21 or preaching May his wig ne'er grow grey, nor his cravat want bleaching May his muse of her quiuzy be cured by a gargle ; May he faint at Miss Wilson, and dream in the Dargle. 3 * May he send out a dozen more heroes from Trinity, And for that be made Provost, its prop of divinity We wish Melmoth well, for he is a true Tory, Whate'er Coleridge may say, and let that be his glory. 8 * Here's to poor Skinny Sheil, whose entire occupation Is gone, since O'Neil ceased delighting the nation ; , Whose head's much more empty than Maturin's wig, sirs, But, nevertheless, we'll give Skeelahnagig? 1 sirs." 8 good deal of perseverance. M. See note 6. be properly personate y ony one great actor wn orrest. . 24 The Reverend Mr. Maturin is one of the first quadrillers now extant. He also is a great grinder and a true Tory. C N. A beautiful pass in the Co. Wicklow. You ought to go and see it. Ana. We are too old to go touring. C. N. a Coleridge, who was an unsuccessful dramatist, devoted a portion of Biographia Literaria to the ridicule of Robert Charles Maturin, whose play of Bertram had succeeded. [This last - - . , who rather expected thanks, said that it certainly had not succeeded. " Sir," responded the sensitive author, "it dues not fallow that a piny h'in failed, because ft did nut succeed!"] Maturin. who was much of a dandy in his attire, added to the narrow income derived from a joor curacy in Dublin, by reading with (or /Tripling), >c ing men who wished to pass cre- ditably through Trinity College. He died in 1825. M. 31 A nickname bestowed on Sheil, by the late Right Honorac.t. Jjhn Philpot Curran. Mast*r of the Rolls in Ireland, much to the satisfaction of the poet*. Sheeiahnagig, is thn name of a popular tune in the Sister Island, but, we are sorry to say, to words of rather an immnil tendency. C. N. ency. u. . Sheil's three pliys, (of which Evadne -,vas the most successful), were written for th* 222 NOCTES AMBROSIAN^E. And, now, Mr. Knowles who with feelings once vented, While our living bards HE so well represented ; 30 And with him we'll couple a man they call Banim," Though a bard we scarce think him a bard we scarce feign him. 98 Here's Haynes " Bridal Night" in five acts 'tis no wonder He kill'd the poor maiden yet, faith, 'twas a blunder To christen that " conscience" 'twas very ironical ; ** But he floats down to fame through the sink of the " Chronicle." And here's the last bard of the buskin, poor Bertridge, Whom Miss Wilson was near blowing up like a cartridge Simple Clarke I in the tragic you're yet but a tyro, Though, faith, there was something not bad iu " Kamiro."* 4 Here's Charley from Sligo, 36 whose finical verses, Each bog-trotter on black Beubulben rehearses, As flimzy and sloppish as waiting-maid's washes, Or a speech of his own, or Sir James M'lntosh's."* And while we pass over the Cockneyish dastards, We must drink to the poet of beggary and bastards ; For there's something so strong in his old-fashioned gab, sire, We'll empty a glass to the Veteran Crabbe, 81 sirs. Here's to Mitchell, restorer of dear Aristophanes, Who has made all his fun, and his fire, and his scoffing his. put). ->?e of giving new characters for embodiment by Miss O'Neil, the Irish Tragedienne, born in 1793. Sheil died in 1851. M. 29 This is a great undervaluation of James Sheridan Knowles, whose Caius Gracchus and Virginius had been successfully performed in London. William Tell followed, and, a few years later, The Hunchback, The Wife, and other dramas which have placed him high among life dramatists of England. Knowles was born at Cork, in Ireland, in August, 1784. M. 30 A Poet mentioned by Cornelius Webb, under the title of " Green Knowles." Rather personal this of Corney. At a public dinner of the Literary Fund, Mr. Knowles, we read in the papers, on the health of the Poets of England being proposed, returned thanks! Air, " How prettily ice apples swim." On the same occasion an Alderman, (we never mention names.) Captain of Trainbands, returned thanks on the health of the Duke of Wellington and the British Army being given. We have an obscure remembrance of Sir Ronald Ferguson doing the same thing on a similar occasion. Air, "See the conquering hero." C. N. 31 John Banirn, an Irishman, author of Damon and Pythias." a drama, and of aconsiderablo portion of the prose fictions which appeared as if written " By the O'Hara Family." M. 32 Banirn? Qusere. Is it possible there is such a name? . I >> are to be found in my Memoir of him. in this edition. Robert Bloomfield, autnoi of The Faitner s Boy, and other poems of great merit; born 1706. died If 23. M. 48 lohn Cia r e. the Northampton Peasant and Poet, now [1S54], in a lunatic asylum. Allan Cunningham, a Scottish poet, novelist, critic, and biographer, born in 1785, died in 1842. M. * Luttrell, author of Advice to Julia, an epistle in verse, will long be traditionally remem bered as one of the wits of the regency and reign of George TV. The Rev. Doctor Dale, author of The Widow of Nain, Irad and Adah, and other poems, is now prebendary of St. Paul's and Rector of St. Pannras, the largest parish in London. Charles Lloyd, translator of Alfieri, and an early friend of Southey and Coleridge. Charles Lamb, the gentle Elia, was born in I77j, and died in 1834. Frw authors have won more sincere and genial regard from "hosts of friends." His Essays form one of the most popular works in the language. A great deal of good pity has been expended on the fact that Lamb was "doomed to the cruel desk in daily toil." He was a clerk in the accountant's office in the Eat India House, commencing on a respectable and rising salary, his sole labors being to copy papers into books of record. When ne retired, after thirty-five years' service, his income had increased to 700 a-year, and he wa then allowed a retiring life-allowance of 450 a year. Great consideration was shown him by his superiors. On one occasion, however, (the usual office-hours being nominally from 10 Io4), he entered his office at noon. The principal said, " Mr. Lamb, you really I'M come FO late." I.amb paused, and said, with the arch simplicity which dist'nguished him, "Tiue, sir, bu* hen I go away so early "' M- METRICUM SYMPOSIUM. 225 Herbert, tasteless and black, as a glass of bad negus ; 80 And Strangford, who gather'd some gold from the Tagus." And now to the bards of the famed silent sister ; Ba We own for some seasons or so, we have miss'd her. And the prize-winning poets of Isis and Cain, Very fiue very learned and scarce worth a d . And now into dozens the poets we'll trundle : Wo must drink to them now at least twelve in the bundle. Here s Williams and Darley, Barton and Fitzgerald, Who might shine in a page of the " Times" or the " Herald." *' Here's to all the rest, both esquired and anonymous, May they all in their times find their own Hierouymus ; Though their verses may live until Saturday se'unight, Or as long as the speeches of Brougham or of Bennett. We can give no more names faith, we ne'er could be able If we did, we would soon be laid under the table. Then one glass to them all, male and female together, Who recite in the dog-days, in spite of the weather. This last three times three, boys. Hip, hip, hurra! The Poets of England by jingo ! 'tis day. Can Alaric 5 * save them ? No ; our personality And Maga alone can give them immortality. * Hibernice Nagus. See note 4. C. N. 51 This is the Lord Thurlow, whose volume of middling rhymes, in 1813, so much excited the ridicule of Byron, that he perpetrated some satires on them, which are to be found in his poems, and place some of Thurlow's lines, therein quoted, in a situation akin to that of flies iu amber. William Robert Spencer, a lively poet of the Regency, born in 1770, died in 1834. Dr. Herbert, son of the Earl of Carnaervon, dean of Manchester, author of Attila, and other poenn of marked merit, and also of Mr. Henry William Herbert, the best sporting writer in America, (" Frank Forrester'), distinguished as poet, novelist, critic, historian, and artist. The translator of Camoens was addressed in Byron's Knglish Bards and Scotch Reviewers, as Hibernian Strangford ! with thine eyes of blue And boasted locks of red or auburn hue. with a declaration, by way of annotation, that " The things given to the public as the poem of Camoens, are no more to be found in the original Portuguese, than in the Song of Solomon." M. 53 By "Silent Sister," is meant Trinity College, Dublin A most unfounded and ridiculous calumny, as we shall have the pleasure of proving ere long. C. N. [Which was never done. M.] SJ Darley eventually became critical preface- writer to Cumberland's British Drama. Bernard Burton, the Quaker poet, died in 1849. Fitzgerald, called "The Small-beer Poet," by Cobbett, V*ed .nnually to deliver a poetical address at the Literary Fund Dinner. M. s * Alaric A. Watts, Esq., who is employed about what we doubt not will beamost interesting work, Specimens of the British Poets. Of course, he muit exhibit us in full fig. C. N. [The work appeared, in two volumes, but was not a good colle :t.on of poems. M.] VOL. I. 17 No. V. SEPTEMBER, 1822. ACT I. SCENE Back Parlor Cold Supper just set, Manet MR. AMBROSE solus. Mr. Ambrose. I think it will do. That plate of lobsters is a little too near the edge. Softly, softly, the round of beef casts too deep a, shadow over these pickles. There that's right. Old Kit will be unable to criticise Enter MR. NORTH. Mr. North. Old Kit ! will be unable to criticise ! ! Why, upon my honor, Mr. Ambrose, you are rather irreverent in your lingo. Mr. Ambrose, (much confused.) I really, sir, had not the least idea you were at hand. You know, sir, with what profound respect M*. North. Come, Ambrose, put down the pots of porter. The King has left the Theatre, and we shall be all here in a few seconds. I made my escape from the manager's box, just before the row and the rush began. Hark ! that is the clank of the Adjutant Enter ODOHERTY, TICKLER, SEWARD, DULLER, HIGHLAND CHIEFTAIN, and MR. BLACKWOOD. Odoherty. Allow me, my dear North, to introduce to you i iy friend, the Chief of the Clan ' Mr. North. No need of a name. I know him by his father's face. Sir, I will love you for the sake of as noble a Gael as ever slaughtered a Sassenach. Sit down, sir, if you please. (Highland Chieftain sits down at Mr. North's right hand.) Mr. Seward. Well, did he not look every inch a King,* this even- ing ? A King of Great Britain, France, and Ireland, ought, if possi ble, be a man worth looking at. His subjects expect it, and it is but reasonable they should. Mr. North. Fame does no more than justice to his bow. It is most princely so or rather so. Is that like him ? * In August, 1822, George IV. visited Scotland. He had visited Ireland and Hanover in the preceding year. He remained in the vicinity of Edinburgh (the guest of the Duk of Buc- ileugh, at Dalkeith Palace, within fix miles of the capital,) for fifteen days, and his return was hastened by the intelligence that the Marquis of Londonderry, Foreign Secretary, had committed suicide in London. When he was proceeding, amid tens of thousands, to the 1 'a I ace of Holyrood, the ancient abode of the Scottish Kings, the demeanor of the multitude wag FO quiet and respectful (very unlike the wild enthusiasm which greeted him at Dublin) th.-.t be said " This is a nation of gentlemen.'' This compliment is referred to, over and ovei atuin, in the following Noctes. M. THE EOYAL VISIT. 227 Odoherty. No more than a hop-pole is like a palm-troe. or the Editor of the Edinburgh Review like him of Blackwood's Magazine. The King's bow shows him to be a man of genius ; for, mark me, ho has no model to go by.* He must not bow like the Duke of Argyll, or Lord Fife, well as they bow, but like a King. And he does so. The King is a man of genius. Mr. Blackwood. Do you think, sirs, that the King would become ;i contributor to the Magazine 1 I have sent his Majesty a set splen- didly bound by Mr. North. Hush, Ebony, leave that to me. You must not inter- fere with the Editorial department. Mr. Buller. What do you Scotch mean by calling yourselves a grave people ; and by saying that you are not, like the Irish, absurd in the expression of your loyalty ? I never heard such thunder in a Theatre before. Odoherty. I would have given twenty ten-pennies that some of the young ladies in the pit had remembered that a pocket handkerchief should not be used longer than a couple of lays. Some of the lite- rary gentlemen too, showed snuffy signals. But the coup d'ceil was imposing. Buller. I hate all invidious national distinctions. Let every people hail their King in their own way. Odoherty. To be sure they should. But then the Scotch are " a nation of Gentlemen ;" and the Irish " a nation of ragamuffins ;" and the English " a nation of shopkeepers." How then ? Mr. North. His Majesty knows better than to satirize us. We are not a nation of gentlemen thank God ; but the greater part of our population is vulgar, intelligent, high-cheeked, raw-boned, and religious. Mr. Seward. I could not help smiling, when I looked across the pit and along the boxes this evening, at the compliment towards your- selves as a nation, which some self-sufficient soul put into his Majesty's mouth. I never saw a more vulgar pit in my life. The women looked as if Odoherty. One and all of them could have kissed the King. But, Seward, my boy, you are mistaken in calling the pit vulgar. Your taste has been vitiated, Seward, by Oxford Milliners, and Mr. North. The conversation is wandering. ( Turning to the Chief- Byron admits the fascination of this bow. In Don Juan we have " There, too, he saw (whate'er he may be now) A Prince, the prince of princes at the time, With fascination in his very bow And full of promise, as the spring of prime. Though royalty was written on his brow, He had then the grace, too rare in every clime, Of being, without alloy of fop or beau, A finished gentleman from top to toe.' ; M. 228 NOCTES AMBROSIAN.E. lain.] I saw you talking to the Thane in the Theatre.* Would to heaven you had brought him here ! Chieftain. He is gone to Dalkeith or he would have come. Mr. North. How popular the Thane is all over Scotland. Depend upon it, gentlemen, that the best man is, in general, the most popular. Nothing but generosity and goodness will make peasants love peers. Mr. JBlackwood. His Lordship never comes to town without calling at the shop. Enter MR. AMBROSE and Waiters with rizzard haddocks, cut of warm salmon, inuirfowl, and haggis. Mr. Tickler. Adjutant, I will drink a pot of porter with you THE KING, (three times three surgunt omnes) Hurra, hurra, hurra Hurra, hurra, hurra Hurra, hurra, hurra! -(Conticuere omnes.) Mr. North. Odoherty, be pleased to act as croupier. Odoherty. More porter. Mr. Tickler. Did you see how the whole pit fixed its face on the King's till the play began 1 It was grand, North. His eye met that loyal " glower" with mild and dignified composure. The King, North, was happy. I'll swear he was. He saw that he had our hearts. Every note of " God save the King" went dirling though my very soul-strings. I'm as hoarse as a howlet. Mr. North. I think the people feel proud of their King. As he past the platform where I stood, on his entrance into Edinburgh, I heard a countryman say to his neighbor, " Look, Jock ; look, Jock, isna he an honest-looking chiel ? Gude faith, Jock, he's just like my ain father." Mr. Seward. Curse the Radicals ! A king must abhor even a single hiss from the vilest of his subjects. The King, Mr. North, is with us as popular a King as ever reigned in England. He has only to show himself oftener, and Mr. Butter. I have seen the king in public often ; but I never sav- him insulted except in the newspapers. The " Scotsman in London" is a common character. Odoherty. Mr. Seward, a little haggis. See " its hurdies like twa distant hills." Mr. Seward. What are hurdies ? Mr. Tickler. See Dr. Jamieson. Chieftain. Mr. North, I am delighted. I hope I may say so with- out flattery. I never drank better Glenlivet. Why, gentlemen, not come and pay me a visit this autumn ? No occasion for a tent. I am a bachelor, and have few children. Odoherty. Settled. Name your day. The Earl of Fife ; he )"> already been introduced to the reader in "The Tent." M. LAY OF THE KILT. 221) Chieftain. 14th of September. I cannot be home sooner. Is it a promise ? Omnes. 14th of September. WE SWEAR ! ! Odokerty. Well done, old Mole, in the cellarage. Hamlet seo Shakspeare. Enter MR. AMBROSE. Mr. Ambrose. Mr. North, a communication. Tickler. Read read. Mr. North. I cannot say I am quite able to do so. My eyes are a little hazy or so. But there is the letter, Tickler. Up with it. T'L&kr, (reads.) De'il tak the kilts ! For fifty year, nae honest soon of Reikie's Wad ever thiuk to walk the streets, denuded o' his breekies. And ony kilted drover lad, wi' kyloes or a letter, Was pitied, or was glower'd at, " Puir chiel, he kens nae better ;" And apple-wives look'd sidelins, and thocht he came to steal or beg, Whene'er they saw a callaut wi' his hurdies in a philabeg.* And even chiefs o' clans themselves, whene'er they ran to towns, man, Were fain to clothe their hairy knees in breaks, or pantaloons, man. But uow ! Loid bless your soul ! there's no a Lawlaud writer laddie Can wheedle a pund note or twa frae his auld cankered daddie, But aff he sets, (though born betwixt St. Leonard's an Dniinsheugh) an He fits himsel' wi' baunet, plaid, and hose, and kilt, and spleuchan.f Ye'se ken the cause o' a' the steer ; the Heeland Dliuine WassalsJ Began to tire o' wearin' breeks whene'er they left their castles; So they coaxed the honest citizens to join in a convention To tak' the corduroy from off the pairt I daurna mention ; That, like the tod|| that tint his tail, they mightna cause derision. And find their faces in a flame, while elsewhere they were freezin. The town's-lads snappit at the plan, and thus began the Celtic, A medley strange frae every land, frae off the shores o' Baltic ; Frae England, Ireland, Scotland ; Border lairds and ancient British, There were Dutchmen, Danes, and Portuguese, and French and Otaheitish ; And a' professions, frae the lad that's only just apprenticed. To the great hero of the west e'en Doctor Scott the Dentist And they wad dine, and drink, and strut, as big's Macallum More, sir, And skraigh attempts at Gaelic words, until their throats were sore, sir. An' a' was canty for a while, for these were still their gay days, An' a' could lend a hand to pay for balls gi'en to the laities ; And there they dauc'd the Highland fling, and kick'd their kilts and toes up. Tho' whiles their ruler-shapit legs refused to keep their hose up. But when the pawky Highland lairds had fairly set the fashion, Up gets an angry Chief o' Chiefs in a prodigious passion : " Fat Teil hae y< n to do wi' kilts, gae wa' and get your claes on, Get out, ye nasty Lowland poys, and put your preeks and stays on ; * tfvrdies in a phUabeg-,'his buttocks in a kilt. M. "tlpleuclian \ tobacco-pouch. M. t Dunnie-wassnt.A. Highland gentleman, generally the cadet of a family of rank, who seived his title fiom the land he occupied, though held at the will of his chieftain. M. II Tod. -A POJ.--M. 230 NOCTES AMBROSIAILE. Ye shanna wear your claes like me, I look on you as fermin, Ye hae nae inair o' Highland pluid than if you were a Chermau."* This sets them up, " Chairman indeed ! Ye never shall be ours, sir Except it be to carry us when we go out of doors, sir ! Like ithers o' your kintra men." And thus they flyte thegither, And baud the hail town in a steer, expellin' ane anither. And how the bus'uess is to end, is mair than I can tell, sir, Indeed it seems to fickle and perplex the Sheriff's sell, sir ; But this I ken, that folk that's wise think they maun be nao witches, "VVha ever let a Highland Kernf entice them out o' breeches. Highland Chief. Come, gentlemen, if you please, I will propose a toast, " Glengarry !" His Majesty would Miot have sent the mes- sage he did to the chiefs, if he had not been pleased with them and their highlanders.J Omnes. Glengarry. Hurra, hurra, hurra ! Odoherty. What does Glengarry mean by saying that few mem- bei's of the Celtic Society could shoot an eagle? It is easier, a damned d peculiar and romantic a character, his particular thanks for their attendance, and MB '^arm approbation of their unitbim deportment." M. OSSIAN. 231 Chieftain. Mr. Blackwood, I wish I could write an article of the. kind you mention. You are a gentleman of liberal sentiments. In. twenty years the Highlands will be ' happier than they ever have been since the days of Ossian. Lowland lairds have no right to abuse us for departing from the savage state. tilackwood. Could you let us have it for next Number, sir ? We stand in need of such articles prodigiously sound, sensible, statisti- cal articles, full of useful information. We have wit, fun, fancy and feeling, and all that sort of thing in abundance, but we are short of useful information. We want facts a Number now and then, with less fun and more facts, would take, and promote the sale with dull people. Yes, it is a fact, that we want facts. Odoherty. Damn your Magazine, Ebony ! You gave Napoleon no rest at St. Helena till he became a contributor. You are begin- ning to send sly hints to the King. And*here we have you smelling as strong of the shop as a bale of brown paper, dunning the Chieftain the very first time he has come among us. .Mr. Seward. Chieftain, you mentioned Ossian may I ask if his Poems are authentic? Chieftain. As authentic as the heather and the hail on our misty mountains.* Mr. Seward. Wordsworth the poet says, that in Ossian's Poems, every thing is looked at as if it were one, but that nothing in nature is so looked at by a great poet. Therefore, Ossian's poetry is bad, and written by Macpherson. Chieftain. I have not the pleasure of being familiar with Mr. Wordsworth's name or writings. Neither do I understand one syl- lable of what you have now said. Ossian's poetry is not bad.f Did the gentleman you speak of ever see a lake or a mountain ? Bullcr. He lives on the banks of a tarn about a mile round about. Chieftain. I am sorry for him. Mr. North. He also says, if I recollect rightly, that Ossian speaks of car-borne chiefs in Morven but that Morven is inacces- sible to cars. Odoherty. So it is to jaunting cars. Wordsworth was in a sort of mongrel shandrydan, a cross between a gig and a tax-cart ; and * Sir Walter Scott's opinion on the authenticity of Ossian's Poems ought to be conclusive. Scott was a man so thoroughly national, that he would almost strain a point rather than part vith any belief likely to 'do credit to Scotland. His deliberate opinion was this: " After making every allowance for the disadvantages of a literal translation, and the possible debase- ment which those now collected may have suffered, on the great and violent change which the Highlands have undergone, since the researches of Macpherson, I am compelled to admit that incalculably the greater part of the English Ossian must be ascnbed to Macpherson himself, and that his whole introductions, notes, &c. &c., are an absolute tissue of forgeries." M. f So thought Napoleon, who was quite Ossian-struck at one period of his life, before he wore tlie imperial purple. It was by way of compliment to this fancy, and with the tact of a cour- tier, (rough soldier as he affected to be,) that Bernadotte gave his eldest son the name of one ?( Ossian s heroes. Since 1844, ho has been Oscar, king of Sweden. M. 232 NOCTES AMBROSIAN.E. no wonder he was shy of Morven. But unless he had been a most ignorant person indeed, (all poets are ignorant,) he would have known that there are cars in Morven to this day. Chief tahi. There are and scientifically constructed, though of old date. I have seen the Highlanders coming down the steep and rocky hills with them, full of peats, with a rapidity that would have pleased Fingal himself. Besides there are many straths and level places in Morven. Mr. North. Pray, were not all the Highlands once called " Mor- ven r Chieftain. They were, not unfrequently, nor by a few. Odoherty. So goes the flummery of the water-drinking laker about Ossian, the bard who brewed his own whisky, and drank like a whale. Mr. Tickler. Tell Wordsworth to let other people's poetry alcne. from Ossian to Pope, and make his own a little better. Who pre- fers Alice Fell to Malvina ? or Peter Bell to Abelard ? Oh ! that the English lakes were all connected by canals ! A few steamboats from Glasgow would soon blow up their poetry. Wishy-washy stuff indeed ! Mr. North. Our conversation, gentlemen, is degenerating into lite- rature. I will fine the first of you that tattles in a bumper. Odoherty. The Paradise Lost of Milton has ever ap Mr. Tickler. He blabs for a bumper. But in with the salt. Mr. Blackwood. One of the great merits of The Magazine is that it has less literature Odoherty. Than libels. Mr. Blackwood, (rising.) Mr. Odoherty, I have lately seen you walking on all occasions with the enemy ? Did you review O'Meara in the Edinburgh ? Odoherty. No, no, my good fellow ; they throw out their bait, but I won't nibble. Mr. Blackwood. All I know is, that it is at once more honorable and more lucrative to write in our Maga, than in any other existing work. Mr. Tickler, (ringing ilie bell.) What cackling, as of geese, is that we hear through the partition ? Mr. Ambrose, remove that side- board, and throw open these folding-doors. Mr. Ambrose. There is a small party in the next room, Mr. Tickler. Mr. Tickler. I want to count them. (Sideboard is removed, and doors flung open. ) scoTrisn POLITICS. 233 SCENE II. Odoherty. Whigs Whigs a nest of Whigs. A conspiracy against our lord the King. How do you, Mr. Bunting ? Mr. Bunting. I scarcely understand this, Mr. Odoherty. But, during the King's Visit, all party distinctions should be forgotten. I hope you did not cry, Whigs, Whigs, Whigs, offensively. Mr. North. Young gentleman, we have been all Whigs in our day. It is a disease of the constitution. Will you and your friends join our table? Help Mr. Bunting to some haggis. B viler. This is a formidable coalition. It is as bad as Mr. Fox joining Lord North.* Mr. Black wood. Mr. Bunting, I seldom see you or any of your friends about the shop now-a-days. I hope, now that the King comes to see us, you will step up the front-steps. (Aside to Mr. Bunting.} Are not these three of the Seven Young Men 1 Mr. Bunting. I was glad to see the King, and I trust he will not be misinformed of our sentiments towards him. I respect him as the chief magistrate. Mr. Tickler. That is infernal nonsense, Master Bunting, begging your pardon. Have you no feeling, no fancy, no imagination, Master Bunting. Your heart ought to leap at the word King, as at the sound of a trumpet. Chief magistrate ! humbug. Do you love your own father, because he was once Provost of Crail 1 No, no, Master Bunting, that won't pass at Ambrose's. Young Man. I hope that the King's Visit will be productive of some substantial and lasting benefit to this portion of the united empire. Mr. North. What do you mean ? Mention what ought to be done, and I will give a hint to Mr. Peel. Young Man. In my opinion the question of borough reform Odoherty. Sheep's head or trotters, sir? Mr. Bunting. Unless his majesty's ministers assist the Greeks, and ransom the young women ravished from their native Scio into Turkish harems, the inhabitants of modern Athens will Odoherty. What will they do ? But I agree with you, Mr. Bunt- ing, in thinking the Greek girls deucedly handsome. Were you ever in Scio ? Mr. Bunting. No. But I attended a meeting t'other day, at which * Fox and Lord North had been in the habit of grossly abusing each other, in public and in private. In April, 1782, they formed a Coalition, and entered the Cabinet together, much against the King's will. In the following December, Fox's India Bill was rejected by tho House of Lords. The same evening, Fox and Lord North wee literally turned out of olhce by the King. Lord North never again entered it. and it was nearly 23 years, before for the last few months of his life Fox again was in place. M. 231 NOCTES the affairs in general of Greece were admirably discussed. And are we to countenance rape, robbery, and murder ? Odoherty. Why, I don't know. As an Irishman, I am scarcely entitled to answer in the negative. But what has all this blarney to do with King George the Fourth's Visit to Scotland? Mr. Blackwood. I will be very happy to give Mr. Bunting, or any of his Whig friends, five guineas for an article of moderate size, containing a few facts about the Greeks. Pray, Mr. Bunting, wh:it may be the population of the isle of Scio ? Mr. Bunting, (after a pause.) Well well I shall not push the conversation any farther in that direction. The haggis is most excel- lent. Mr. North, may I have the honor to pledge you in a pot of porter ? Odoherty, (ringing the bell.) Pipes. (They are brought in.) Mr. Tickler. No spitting-boxes. They are filthy. Mr. North. Where art thou, Odoherty ? I discern thee not through this dense cloud of smoke. Odoherty. We may all come and go without being missed. I have an appointment at one o'clock. Voice, as of one of the Young Men. I have just been perusing the fresh number of the Edinburgh Review. I scarcely think that the Duke of Wellington will go to the Congress after it. Mr. Tickler. Has Frank Jeffrey stultified the Duke of Wel- lington ? Voice, as of one of the Young Men. Bonaparte, Benjamin Con- stant, Madame de Stael, John Allen, Esq., Sir James Mackintosh, and Jeffrey himself, all think him un homme borne. Mr. Seward. Pray, sir I beg your pardon, but I do not see you very distinctly ; what do you mean by un homme borne ? How do you translate the words ? Voice, as of one of the Young Men. I am no French scholar ; but it sounds like French. It is an epithet*of opprobrium. The precise meaning is of no consequence to our argument. Odoherty. O ! the Duke of Wellington is an ass ! what a pity ! Who is that sick in that corner ? Waiter, waiter. Throw open the window down pipes, till it clears off a little. Soho ! it is my eloquent young Man of the Mist 1 Carry him out, Ambrose there he is un homme borne. Mr. Banting. We, all of us, hate smoking. But, Mr. North gentlemen good night. (Exeunt Mr. BUNTING and the Young Men.) Mr. Butter. Are these a fair specimen of your young Edinburgh Whigs ? Mr. North. I fear they are. Their feebleness quite distresses us. Jeffrey himself, I am told, is unhappy about it. What am I doing ? " WELCOME THE KING." 235 lighting my pipe with an article that I have not read. There, (fling ing it ocer to Buller) read it aloud for the general edification and delight. Buller reads. TO CHRISTOPHER NORTH, ESQ., From an occasional Contributor, living at Cape Clear, who was appl, :d tojbra.n article about the King in Edinburgh. 1. Cbief of scribblers ! Wondrous Editor 1 Why d'ye seek assistance here ? Little you'd gain of praise, or credit, or Any thing else by me, my dear. Those who, like Boreas, Greeted uproarious, Visit so glorious, loudly should sing, How Miss Edina. Looking so fine-a Smart and diviue-a, welcomed the King, 2. One would think it only rational, That you had poets there on the spot : Stir up your own Bard truly national, First of all Minstrels, Sir Walter Scott: High o'er Fahrenheit, Our hearts are in heat, When that Baronet thrums the string. Cau he refuse us Aid from his muses ? No, no, he chooses tc welcome the King. a Have you not there, too, Crabbe, the veteran ? Ask that old poet to do the job. For describing, show me a better one, Bailies or beggarmen, flunkies or mob : Hubbub, bobbery, Crowd and mobbery, For all such jobbery he's the thing. So then for a bard, List the Borough Bard, Being a thorough bard to welcome the King.* In 18^1 it John Murray's, in London, Sir Walter Scott was introduced to Crabbe, (he poet, who pron.i:>od to visit him. He arrived in August, 1822, when Scott was immersed in whai bus truly b^en called "the tumultuous preparations" for the King's visit. Scott could give little of his time to Crabbe, who was astonished (as it were), at the fulness and freshness of Scottish loyalty. Lockhart had just cause for lamenting (in his Life of Scott), that the English bard had not seen the Scottish, " at Abbotsford among his books, his trees, and his own good simple peasants." In fact, Scott had little time for private matters. Scott's family, says his son-in-law, were more fortunate than himself in this respect. They had from infancy been taught to reverence Crabbe's genius, and they now s*aw enough of him to make them think of him ever afterwards with lender affection. At this time, Crabbe was 68 years old, and tkott 51. "rabbe died in 1831, aged eighty ; Scott in 1832, aged sixty-one. M. 236 NOCTE3 AMBROSIAN.E. 4. Mr. Croly, my brother Irishman, Was there with you, as I am told ; He, I think, could give you a flourish, man, In verses brighi of gems and gold. Soho, Cataline ! Prime hand at a line ! Hasjje, and rattle in your verse to bring ; Singing so gorgeous. How knight and burgess, Throng'd round Great Georgius, welcomed the King. 5. Then, there's another to do it cleverly, He the great poet who writes in prose ; Sure I mean the Author of Waverley, Whoe'er he be, if any one knows. Truce to Peveril ! There are several People who never will miss the thing; If he will vapor On hot-press'd paper, And cut a caper to welcome the King. 6. Or ask Wilson, the grave and serious Poet, who sung of the Palmy Isle ; Or the sweet fellow who wrote Valerius (Pray, what's his name ?) would do it in style. Could you get once Some of these great ones, Tender or sweet ones for you to sing, We'd think the lasses Had left Parnassus, To sing trebles and basses, to welcome the King. Mr. Seward. I have had enough of " tobacco reek." O, for a gulp of fresh air ! Chieftain. The barge of the Duke of Atholl is now lying near the Chain Pier ? It is under my orders. Might I propose a water-party 1 I can have her manned with ten oars in ten minutes. Mr. North. With all my heart. I am fond of aquatics. Omnes, (crowding around the JUditor.) Take my box-coat No, no, my cloak here is my wrap-rascal. Tie my Barcelona round your neat neck.* Ring for a coach and six. (Exeunt Mr. NORTH, leaning on the arm of tJie Highland Chief and MR. AMBROSE with a flaming branch of wax-lights in each hand.) END OF ACT FIRST. * The line occurs in the song of " The Sprig of Shillelah," in which an Irishman, at Donny- brook Fair, is described as wearing "a new Barcelona tied round his nate neck." The Barcelona was a thick silk handkerchief, boasting of many bright hues, among which miutard- color was predominant. It was ' neat but not gaudy." M. MODERN ATHENS. 237 ACT II. SCENE I Duke of Ath oil's Barge off the Chain Pier, Newhaven. Chieftain. She pulls ten oars. Mr. North, will you take the helm ? I ask no better Palinurus. Mr. North. I am but a fresh-water sailor; yet 10 my day J have sailed a few thousand leagues. Byron says he "has swam more leagues than all the living poets of Great Britain have sailed, with one or two exceptions. Had he said the living critics, he had grossly erred. Odoherty. Coxswain, give North the tiller. Now, lads, dowu with your oars splash splash. Are we all on board ? Omnes. All all all pull away. Mr. North. For the King's yacht. Beautifully feathered ! Remem- ber whom you have on board ! Buller. Seward! this beats Brazen-nose. Yet I wish one of old Davis's wherries were here, to show how an arrow whizzes from a bow. Mr. North. Seward Buller, behold the Queen of the North ! What think you of the Castle, with the crescent moon hung over her for a banner ? The city lights are not afraid to confront the stars. I hope Arthur's Ghost is on his mountain-throne to-night. Yonder goes a fire-balloon. See how the stationary stars mock that transient flight of rockets. Yonder crown of gas-light burns brightly to-night, now it is half veiled in cloud-drapery, now it is gone. Hurra ! Again it blazes forth, and tinges Nelson's Pillar with its ruddy splendor. Odoherty. By the powers, North, you are poetical ! Mr. Tickler. Nelson's Pillar ay may it stand there for ever ! Did they not talk of pulling it down for the Parthenon ? We held it up. Pull down a Monument to the greatest of British admirals ! Fie fie. Mr. Buller. We' Englishmen thought the proposal an odd one. But the Pillar, it was said, was in bad taste, and disfigured the modern Athens. Mr. North. It is in bad taste. What then ? Are Monuments to the illustrious dead to lie at the mercy of Dilletanti 1 But, as Mr. Tickler said, we preserved that Monument. Mr. Seward. I admire the Parthenon. Most of you will recollect my poem on that subject. I am glad the foundation-stone has been laid. Mr. North. So am I. Let Scotland show now that she has liberality as well as taste, and not suffer the walls to be dilapidated by time before they have been raised to th'eir perfect height. 238 NOCTE8 AMBIiOSIANJfi. Odoherty. The Parthenon will be an elegant testimonial. Is it not, too, a national testimonial ? Why then should not the Scottish nation pay the masons \ Why sue for Parliamentary grants 1 Are you not u a nation of Gentlemen 1 ?" Put your hands then into your breeches-pockets, (I beg your pardon, Chieftain), and pay for what you build. Mr. Tickler. The Standard-Bearer speaks nobly. We admire the Parthenon. We resolve to build it. We call ourselves Athenians, and then implore Parliament to pay the piper. Poor devils ! we ought to be ashamed of ourselves. Mr. Buller. Mr. Odoherty, I agree with you. A rich nation does well to be magnificent. Up with towers, temples, baths, porticos, and what not ; but for one nation'to build splendid structures, and then call on another for their praises and their purses, is, in my opinion, not exactly after the fashion of the Athenians. Mr. Blackwood. I have no objection to publish an additional Number any month in behoof of the Parthenon. 1 think Mr. 1 Binning deserves the highest praise for his zeal and perseverance. Odoherty. And 1 hope you will also publish an additional Number the month following for behoof of the Foundling Hospital, Dublin, which is generally overstocked. There is not milk for half the brats. Mr. A/ort/t. Shall I steer under her stern, or across her bows ? Coxswain. Under her great clumsy stern, and be damned to her Jung-frau ! Dung-cart ! She can't keep her backside out of tho water. Mr. Seward. Whom are you speaking of? Not a female, I hope. Odoherty. Sir William Curtis's yacht a female, to be sure. Look, you may read her name on her bottom by moonlight. Mr. Ulackwood. How many guns does she carry ? Coxswain. Twenty stew-pans. Chieftain. Lord bless the worthy Baronet, however ; he wins the hearts of us Highlanders by mounting a kilt. I hope he will wear it occasionally in Guildhall. I believe he is an honorary member of the Celtic Society. Mr. Seward. Are turtles ever caught on the coast of Scotland ? Chieftain. Occasionally but they are found in greatest numbers in the inland lochs. They were originally fresh-water fish. Mr. Seward. You surprise me. Have these inland lochs no com- munication with the sea '{ Chieftain. Many of them only by means of torrents precipitous, several miles high, and inaccessible, I suspect, to turtles. Coxswain. Old gentleman, helm a-lee, or we run foul of that hawser. Helm a-lee, old gentleman, helm a-lec, or we all take our grog in Davy's locker. Mr. Blackwood. Dog on it, Mr. North, you would steer, and you CHEAP TRAVELLING. 239 would steer, and a pretty kettle offish you are making of it I wish I were safe at Newington !* These boating expeditions never answer. My brother Thomas told me not to Coxswain. All's well. Unship oars. SCENE II. State-cabin Royal Yacht. Mr. North. Admirable simplicity ! nothing gorgeous and gaudy, one feels at sea in such a cabin as this. The King, who designed it, knows the spirit of the British navy. Mr. Tickler. No broad glittering gilding ; there is no smell of gingerbread ; one can think of grog and sea-biscuit. A man might be sick in squally weather here, without fear of the furniture. Odoherty. Would it not be a pretty pastime to spend a honey- moon now and then in such a floating heaven as this ? Calm weather and a clear conscience, soft sofa, liberty and love. Buller. Nay, confound it, the prettiest girl looks forbidding when she is squeamish. The dim orange hue of sea-sickness is an antidote to all foolish fondness. Terra firma for me. Tickler. Unquestionably. I gave Mrs. Tickler, a few days after our union, a voyage on the New Canal. The track -boat of this Cut was appropriately called The Lady of the Lake. We were hauled along, at the rate of three miles an hour, by a couple of horses, "lean, and lank, and brown, as is the ribbed sea-sand." Yet, even then, Mrs. Tickler felt queer, and we had to disembarge before changing cattle. The Adjutant. One may travel now for twenty pounds all over Great Britain. Go it toe and heel in cool weather take a lift occa- sionally in cart, buggy, or shandrydan, by the side of a fat farmer tip the guard of Heavies a sly wink, and get up behind in the basket, thirty miles for a couple of shillings ; now for a cheap circuitous cut by a canal, when you live cheap with the chaw-bacons, and, see a fine flat country into a steamboat before the mast, and smoke it away fifty leagues for six and eight pence da capo and in about six weeks you return to your wife and family, with a perfect geographical and hydrographical knowledge of this Island, and with a five pound note, out of the twenty, for a nest-egg. Mr. Blackwood. That looks all very well upon paper. Odoherty. On paper, Mr. Blackwood ! Mr. Blackwood. I say it is a mere theory, and cannot be reduced to practice. I cannot go to London, to stay a fortnight, see my friends, and return under fifty guineas. Odoherty. But then you indulge in luxuries, extraneous expenses works of supererogation. * Blackwood's country residence was at Newington, near Edinburgh. M. 240 NOCTES AMBKOSIAN^E. Mr. Blackwood. Not at all, Adjutant. To be sure hunting costs a good deal. Buller. Hunting ! Are you a sportsman ? Do you join the Surrey ? and conspire with your friend, Leigh Hunt, to worry hares in the dog-days ? Mr. Blackwood. No, no. It is hunting contributors. For example, I hear of a clever young man having been at a tea-and-turn-out in the city. I lay on a few idle dogs to scent him out I trace him to Temple Bar there he is lost, and the chase may be repeated for several days before we secure him. Then I have to dinner hin. divers times, and, before leaving town, to advance money on his articles. Perhaps I never hear more of him, till I read the identical article, promised and paid for, in the London or New Monthly. Odoherty. There is a melancholy want of principle, indeed, among literary men. Nobody will accuse me of being straight-laced ; but while the love-fit lasts, I am true as steel to one mistress and to one Magazine. I look upon an attachment to either, quite as an affair of the heart. When mutually tired of each other, then part with a kiss, a squeeze of the hand, a courtesy, and a bow. But no infidelity during the attachment. What sort of a heart can that man have, while he is openly living with the New Monthly, insidiously pays his addresses to the modest and too unsuspecting Maga 1 It is a shocking system of promiscuous Cockney concubinage, that must at no distant period vitiate, the taste, harden the sensibility, vulgarize the manners, and deprave the morals of the people of Great Britain. It ought to bo put down. Buller. Do you seriously opine, Mr. North, that much money is made by periodical literature in London ? Mr. North. Assuredly not. There is little available talent there. The really good men are all over head and ears in wigs and work. There do not seern to be above a dozen idlers in all London who can get up a decent article ; these are all known, and their intellects are measured as exactly as their bodies by a tailor ; each man has his measure lying at Colburn's, &c., and is paid accordingly. Whn a spare young man quarrels with one employer, he attempts another ; but his wares are known in the market, and " he drags at each remove a heavier chain." Odoherty. The contributors are all as well known as the pugilists height, weight, length, bottom, and science. Mr. F. can hit hard, but is a cur, like Jack the butcher. Mr. R. can spar prettily, like Williams the swell, with the gloves, but can neither give nor take with the naked majJeys. Mr. T. is like the Birmingham Youth, and " falls off unaccountably." And Mr. is a palpaplc cross fights booty, and it ends in a wrangle or a draw. Mr. Blackwood. Dog on it, Adjutant, why don't you give us some more Boxiana articles ? BOXIANA. 241 Odoherty. I do not wish to interfere with old in the " Fancy Gazette." He is a rum one to go a most pawky and prophetic pugilist. He knows the whole business of the ring better than any man alive, and writes scholastically and like a gemman ; but he was rather out there about Barlow and Josh. Hudson. Ebony, you should exchange Magazines. The prime object of the " Fancy Gazette" is to kick curs and crosses out of the ring.* It is full of the true English spirit. Why, I gave a few numbers of it to my friend the Kev. Dr. Wodrow, who was once, as you know, Moderator of the General Assembly of the Kirk of Scotland, and nothing would satisfy the old divine but a couple of pairs of gloves. I sent them out from Christie's ; and on my next visit, there were he and Saun- ders Howie, one of the elders, ruffianing it away like old Tom Owens and Mendoza. " That's a chatterer," quoth the elder, as I entered the study, he having hit Wodrow on his box of ivories. " There's a floorer," responded the ex-Moderator, and straightway the Covenanter was on the carpet. Chieftain. Is not this a somewhat singular conversation for the state-cabin of our most gracious Sovereign's yacht 1 Oduherty. Not at all. I saw Randal welt Macarthy in a room about this size, and Jack Scroggins serte out Holt Mr. Seward. Where is North 1 I hope he has not leapt out of the cabin window. Omnes, (rising from the King's so/a.) North North Editor Christopher Kit, where the devil are you ? Mr. North, (from within his Majesty's bed-room.) Come hither, my dear boys, and behold your father reposing on the bed of royalty ! (Tiiey all rush in.) JBuller. Behold him lying alive in state ! Let us kneel down by the bed-side. (They all kneel down.) Omnes. Hail, King of Editors ! Long mayest thou reign over us, thy faithful subjects. Salve, Pater ! Mr. North. Oh ! my children, little do you know what a weary weight is in a crown ! Alas, for us Monarchs ! Oh ! that I could fall asleep, and never more awake ! Posterity will do me justice. Mr. Blackwood. (in tears.) Oh ! my good sir my good sir it is quite a mistake, I assure you every living soul loves and admires you, You must not talk of dying, sir (handing over the gem\ to * At this time, Mr. George Kent was editor of The Fancy Gazette. I mention (for the infor- mation of the ladies,) that " The Fancy" included not only sporting men, but was understood sometimes to take in the members of the swell mob. M. t The Gem. The Chaldse manuscript (chap, 1, v. 34) had thus described Blackwood's snuff- bor ; " And he took from under his girdle a gem of curious workmanship of silver, made by the hand of a cunning artificer, and overlaid within witK pure gold ; and he took from tbpnce something in color like unto the dust of the earth, or the ashes that remain of a furnace mko ) Hogg. Wheesht, wheesht, callant you're deafening Mr. Tickler. Tickler. Let me tip ye another bit of sense, will ye, lads ? Odoherly. Indulge the quizz. Tickler. That song of Privy Counsellor Kempferhausen is as bad as " Naked feet, naked feet." " Omnes. No, no, no, Tickler don't dish the Privy Counsellor. Tickler. Well, then, I won't for this once. But, after all, what do you think, General Christophe, of this production of Pisa ? North. I think, Colonel Timothy, that it is naught. Not that I am in any danger of joining in the vulgar cries that ring in one's ears, but really Lord Byron should remember that he is now a man towards forty* and that if he passes that era without taking up, the whole world will pronounce him an incurable. Hogg. Lord keep us ! whatfor an incurable ? he's just ane of the finest, cleverest chiels of the age, and if he was here just now, he would be a delight to us all. Odoherty. Experto crede. The odd fish is only just trying how far he may go ; give him line, he'll soon come in. Tickler. He must cut the Cockney. Odoherty. I lay a tester he has cut him already. Did you look at that rascally specimen of the Cockneyfied Orlando Furioso ? * In December, 1822, he was within & month of being 35. M. 262 NOCTES AMBROSIAKAS. North, i did. But what was there to surprise you? He had already done Theocritus into the psalm measure (long metre} was there any farther march in the kingdom of absurdity ? Tickler. No, no; but one really cannot suffer such a fellow to be choppifying and patchifying at the Orlando Furioso, without bring- ing a whip across his withers. Why, the whole concern is abomina- bly, nauseous, filthy, base, gingerbread, Cockney stuff". One might read him for a mile without knowing it was Ariosto he was after, if he did not clap old Ludovico's name and surname at the top of his pages! What impudence ! Odohcrty. Do you see me now, I think you are hard on King Leigh. His description of Pisa affected me. Tickler. What affectation ! Odoherty. Well, I was seriously pleased with him. There is a merit in such candor. The man tells you plainly, without going round about the bush, that he had never seen a hill or a clear stream before, and that both of them are fine things in their way. The Cockney is candid. I love the King. Viva Le Hunto Signior di Cocagna, ! North. What an abortion is that tale of the Florentine Lovers !* How unavoidably the Bel Ludgato peeps out ! Suffer any given Cockney to write three sentences on end in any book in the world, and if I don't pick them out ad aperturam, dethrone me. Hogg. That's a stretcher, my man. North. No ; for example, just the other day, my friend little Frank Jeffrey, in one of those good-humored moments of utter silliness that now and then obscure his general respectability, permitted Lecturer Hazlitt to assist him in doing a review of Byron's tragedies for the Edinburgh. If any one here has brought the blue and yellow with him for the lighting of his tube, I engage, under pain of drinking double tides till noon, to mark every paragraph that Billy dipped his ugly paw in. Odoherty. By Jove, here's a libel for you ! Jeffrey and Hazlitt working at the same identical article, like two girls both sewing of one flower, upon one sampler ! Tell that to the marines. Kempferhausen. You will at least admit that Mr. Shelley's version of the Mayday-night scene has its merits. I assure you 'tis goot, very goot. North. Yes, yes, I had forgot it. 'Tis indeed an admirable mor- feau, full of life, truth, and splendor. I think it must be very like Goethe's affair. Kempferhausen. Oh, very like, only the Cockney Editors did not know a word of the original, and they've blundered awfully now and then, in their printing, for example, there is a wizard call of " Come A prose tale in The Liberal, by Leigh Hunt, severely reviewed in Maga. M. THE CHAJLDEE. 263 to me from the Sea of rocks" which is in my father-tongue fdscnsec. The Her Shelley, I suppose, had noted the German word on his paper, not having an English one just ready. But the Hunts print in English " Come to me from felumee" which is no meaning at all, any more than if they had said, " Come to me from philabeg." Hogg. Oh, what ignoramuses But. I dare say, yon German chiels sometimes make as braw blunders themsels, when they're yerking tiwa at the Queen's Wake, or the Three Perils of Man, ower bye yonder Odoherty. 'Tis like they may, I don't doubt many of your little exquisite touches of elegance evaporate under the hands of your translators. Kempferhausen, himself, has mauled you at a time, if he would but own it. .Kempferhausen. Conjileor. Miserere Domine ! I wrote a trans- lation of Kenilworth, you know, when I was at Hamburgh. Well, I had forgot that you English spell the beast with an a, and the tipple with an e, so I made mine host of Cumnor sport the Beer and the broken ladle, instead of the Bear and the Ragged Staff, for his sign- post. All Germany, at this moment, believes that that was the real sign. Indeed, it is now a favorite one among our Teutonic Tintos. Hogg. Dinna lose a night's rest for that, my man : ae thing's just a good as anithcr. It's nae matter what ane pits in a book ; my warst things aye sell best, I think. I'm resolved, I'll try and write some awfu' ill thing this winter. Odoherty. Do, the Agriculturists really must exert themselves in these hard times. Tickler. You were always a diligent fellow, Hogg ; of course The Three Perils have a fine run. Hogg. That's civil Odoherty. One of your principal objects appears to have been The Vindication of the Chaldee of Hogg, (ut cum Glengarry loquar) for I see one of your characters is yourself, always sport- ing that venerable lingo. Hogg. Hoot ! It was just the ither five chapters of the Chaldee ; them that Ebony would not print : they were lying moulding in my drawers, and I thought I would put them into the Novel for Balaam; naebody fand me out, I kent that would be the way o't. Odoherty. After all, Hogg, what devil possessed you to own the Cfcaldee 1 Hcgg. I wish ye would let me eat my victuals, and drink my liquor in peace ; I've been up since four in the morning among the drovers, and I'm no able to warstle wi' you the night. North. Don't mind these scamps, Hogg. Why, there's not one of 'em but would give his ears to write any thing half so fine as the opening chapters of the second volume of your PERILS L'64 NOCTES AMBROSIANJE. Tickler. Has Hogg h^ard or seen the Epigrams by Mr. Webb. Hid Mr. Hazlitt. on General North's arms 1 Hogg. DeH * bit o' me. Od ! there's nae wale o' Epigrams on Yarrow water. Tickler. Then listen. William Hazlitt, in the first place, being asked by Leigh Hunt, why North's crest is a Rose, a Thistle, and a Shamrock, made these lines by way of answer. At least they are attributed to him by the Whigs here. But, to be sure, he must have been in a sweet humor : " You ask me, kind Hunt, why does Christopher North For his crest, Thistle, Shamrock, and Rose blazen forth? The answer is easy : his pages disclose The splendor, the fragrance, the grace of the Rose ; Yet so humble, that he, though of writers the chief, In modesty vies with the Shamrock's sweet leaf; lake the Thistle! Ah ! Leigh, you and I must confess it, NEMO ME (is his motto) IMPUNE LACESSET." Hogg. Very weel, very weel, indeed; the lad's on the mending hand I think, sirs. Tickler. Yet I think Corny Webb's verses are neater : " Each leaf which we see over Christopher's helm Is an emblem of part of our insular realm : The well-fought-for Rose, is of England the bearing, The Thistle of Scotland, the Shamrock of Erin : And they therefore are borne by the Star of the Forth, FOE KIT NORTH LOVES ALL THEEE, AND ALL THEEE LOVE KIT NORTH." Odoherly. Rather jaw-breaking that last line, like Cornelius's sonnets ; but truth may well compensate for want of melody.* Hogg. It often surprises me when I think on't. But, after a', there's but few of the First-raters, except Christopher himself here, that really excels in periodical writing ; I confess I never thought I myself for ane was ony great dab in that department. Tickler. Let me see this is an ingenious start of the Shepherd's. But, after all, is there truth in what he says 1 Is not he himself a goodish periodicaller ? Ktmpferliausen. Donner and blitzen ! do you talk so of the author of the Chaldee ? Tickler. Aye, that, to be sure, is one chef-d'oeuvre; but on the whole, I, though I love and admire Hogg as much as any one, must honestly and fairly say, that I consider him as inferior to Jeffrey in re periodicali. North. No doubt he is. In fact, Hogg has always had his eyes on other affairs perhaps on higher. Hogg. Na, na nane o' youa jeers, auld man ! * Cornelius Wetbc, a London writer, author of Glances at Life, Sonneti, 4c. M. CAMPBELL. 2G North. 1 don't so much wonder at Hogg ; but what do you say tc Tom Campbell ? Tickler. Why, I don't know that we have any proper data yet to judge of Tommy. His magazine is a very queer book. Ib is almost all (I mean the large print) very decently written. There is a certain sort of elegance in many papers, and a certain sort of very neatish information in others; but the chief, and indeed the damni fying defect, is a total want of gist. Is there any one can tell me, at. this moment of any one purpose that work appears to keep iu view ? Kempferhausen. Mr. North, did you not like the letters of Don Leucadio Doblado ?* North. To be sure I did, and did I not like the Confessions of the Opium Eater, too 1 but I do no more think of judging of the two Lon don Magazines by these things, than I would think of estimating the Edinburgh Review, as a bpok, by the few occasional pages of the old Arch-libeller's own penmanship, which now and then adorn it iu these its degenerate days. Tickler. The real defect is in my friend Tom. He is lazy, and he is timorous, are not these qualities enough for your problem? Odoherty. Let them pass. Lord Byron is neither lazy nor timo rous, and yet, you see, he is also a failure in this line. North. Not at all he is a man made for that sort of fun. But what would the Duke of Wellington himself do, if he were obliged to consult Jeremy Bentham about his movements ? Knock off his handcuffs I mean the Cockneys and you'll see Byron is a sweet fellow yet. Tickler. I was distressed to see John Bull abusing The Liberal as he did. John should be above such palaver; but I see he, with all his wit, makes a few sacrifices to humbug. What now can be more ex- quisitely ludicrous than the anti-Catholic zeal of such a chap as Bull? Odoherty, (laying finger on nose, and eyeing Mr. Editor.] Poo! poo ! we could match that elsewhere. North, with an agreeable knitting of brows. Silence, Standard- bearer ! Hogg. I'll no hear Lord Byron abused, for he has ay been a kind friend to me. But, oh, sirs ! what could gar him put in yon awfu' words about the gude auld King ; and now that the worthy sant's in heaven, too? or whare did ever ony body see ony thing like yon epigram sf on Lord Castlereagh's death ? * By Rev. J. Blanco White, a Spaniard. M. t The " Vision 01 Judgment," (a burlesque on a very pretentious poem of the same name, by Southey.) appeared in The Liberal, edited by Byron and Leigh Hunt. The three epigrams on Castlereagtj s death appeared in the same periodical. They were worth little. The best riu. thus : " So. He has cut his throat at last ! He ! Who? The man who cut his country's long ago." M 2C6 NOCTES AMBROSIAN^C. Tickler. Shocking trash ! shocking, shocking ! Odoherty. I suppose Byron thought, since The Courier abused dead Shelley, The Liberal had a right to abuse dead Castlereagh. North. Sir, Lord Byron thought no such thing. Lord Byron could never have thought that he had a right to insult all England, merely because one poor drivelling hypocrite had insulted his friend's memory in a newspaper. No, no, there is no defending these things. Odoherty. Particularly as they happen to be utterly dull and helpless, and as devoid of point as the Ettrick Shepherd's own gaucy under-quarter, which, by the way, I wish he would give over scratching. North. Once more, Hogg, never mind them. Your affection for Lord Byron, and concern to see him acting amiss, do you much honor. Whatever examples other people may set or follow, I hope you will always continue to be of opinion, that the few men of genius in the world ought to respect each other, rejoice in each other's triumphs, and be cast down by each other's misfortunes. Such a way of thinking is generous, and worthy of your kind heart, my good worthy friend. Odoherty. Sir Richard Phillips is another great genius, and yet he does not write a good Magazine. Tickler. Why, Pythagoras, my dear fellow, is one of the rnoff. 1 contemptible Magaziners in the world. He is a dirty little jacobin, that thinks there is more merit in making some dirty little improve- ment on a threshing machine, than in composing an Iliad. He is a mere plodding, thick-skulled, prosing dunderpate; and everything he puts forth seems as if it had been written by the stink of gas in the fifth story of a cotton-mill a filthy Jacobinical dog, sir. North. Poor idiot ! he is hammering at Napoleon still ; now, in- deed, he has taken to exhibiting a two-penny-half-penny bust of him, in his house in Bridge-street. Gentlemen and ladies one shilling children and servants sixpence only ! Hogg. Speaking about Bonaparte, I wad like if ye wad lend me that lad Barry O'Meara's book out wi' me for a week. I'll return it by the next carrier. North. Don't read it, Hogg. It's a piece of mere trash. Hogg. Od ! I thought I saw some commendation o't in the Maga- zine. North. Yes but Mr. Croker's letter of 1818 had not been pub- lished then at least I had not seen it, else I would have scored out the paragraph.* * Copy of the official Letter which notified to Mr. O'Meara. bis removal from the situation of a Surgeon in the Navy : "ADMIRALTY OFFICE, Nov. 2, 1818. SIR I have received and laid before my Lords Commisioners cf the Admiralty your letter BARRY O'MEARA. 267 Hogg. What does Crocker say about him ? ' 'Tis like he might ken something about him in Erland. North. Why, you see, Mr. Hogg, the story was just this : Mr. O'Meara Odohcrty. O'Mara, if you please, North. North. Well, Mr. O'Marra writes to the Admiralty in 1818, say- ing that Sir Hudson Lowe had asked him to poison Bonaparte for him in 1816. Stop there, my friend, says Mr. Croker, either you are telling a bit of a bouncer, and Sir Hudson never made any such proposals to you at all ; or you are a pretty behaved lad, (are you not?) to keep the thing in your pocket for two years, and bring it out now, not for the sake of justice, but for the sake of gratifying your own spleen. In short, " Le Docteur O'Meara" was dismissed *iis Majesty's service for this affair, and that's all. Kempferhausen. Has he never made any answer to all this ? Tickler. Answer ! Poo ! poo ! The dilemma is inevitable he an only make his choice on which horn he is to ride. Odolierty. We shall see what he says for himself in due time. He is a cleverish kind of fellow, is O'Meara, and we must, at least, admit that he has dish'd old Walter of the Times. (and its enclosure) of the 28th ult., in which you state several particulars of your conduct in the situation you lately held at St. Helena, and request 'that their Lordships would, as soon as their important duties should allow, communicate to you tneir judgment thereupon.' " Their Lordships have lost no time in considering yoar statement ; and they command me to inform you, that (even without reference to the complaints made against you by Lieut. General Sir H. Lowe) they find in your own admissions ample grounds for marking your pro- ceedings with their severest displeasure. " But there is one passage in your said letter of such a nature as to supersede the necessity of animadverting upon any other part of it. " This passage is as follows: 'In the third interview which Sir Hudson Lowe had with Napoleon Bonaparte in the month of May, 1816, he proposed to the latter to send me away. ^rea.1 uuiliiurnue ill me uy IUCLUIIII^ mo WJVIL uiviuueB, iiiviimg iiio uu iiaLailtl V to dinner wila him, conversing for hours together with me alone, both in his own house and grounds and at Longwood, cither in my own room, or under the trees and elsewhere. On some of these occa- sions he made to me observations upon the benefit which would result to Europe from the death of Napoleon Bonaparte, of which event he spoke in a manner which, considering hia situation and mine, was peculiarly distressing to me.' " It is impossible to doubt the meaning which this passage was intended to convey, and my Lords can as little doubt that the insinuation is a calumnious falsehood; but, if it were true, and if so horrible a suggestion were made to you, directly or indirectly, it was your boundeu duty not to have lost a moment in communicating it to the Admiral on the spot, or to th Secretary of State, or to their Lordships. "An overture so monstrous in itself, and so deeply involving not merely the personal your personal hostility against the Governor. ' Either the charge is in the last degree false and calumnious, or you can have no possibln excuse for having hitherto suppressed it 268 NOCTES AMBTjOSTAX.K Tickler. Not much to brag of, that, if he had done it, lut I doubt the fact. Odoherty. Well, well, as Samuel Johnson said, "Tis no great object to arrange the precedence between a louse and a flea." Blackwood. All I say is, that the more the book is abused, the better it sells. I think there is never an hour but I hear it called for. It has had as great a run as the Cook's Oracle evrer had. North. I'll lend you the book, however, old Hogg. Hogg. Thank ye, sir ; after a' you're the ditcreetest of your divan, and I'll sing ye a sang for you're civility. Kempferhausen. Bravo ! Colonel, sing, sing hurra ! hurra ! hurra ! Hogg (sings.) AIR Lively. O sair - ly may I rue the day I fan-cied first the women-kind, For -ft ^ h ^q^ezj^zjSJ^yii ^-j^-?- ^ * 9 aye sin - syne I ne'er can ha'e A qui - et thought or peace o' mind. * L * * -* C They ha'e plagued my heart, and pleased my e'e, And teased and flat - tered me at will ; But aye, for a' their witch6rye, The paw - Ry things, I CHORUS, /T\ f - lo'e them still. O the wo - men folk, O the wo - mn folk, But the wreck o' me ! O wea - ry fa' the wo- men folk. For they win- na let a bo dy be. I've thought, an' thought, but darua tell ; ]'ve etudicii tlion wi' ' w skill'. " THE WOMEN FOLK.' 2GD I've loe'd them better than mysel' ; I've tried again to like them ill. "Wha sairest strives, will sairest ru, To comprehend what nae man cau : When he has doue what man can do, He'll end at last where he began. 0, the women folk, rof'-ingof such a fellow as Borthwick,* a person who, according to his own story, One of the prrsons connected with the Beacon and Glasgow Sentinel newspapers, jus', ther in very bad odor in the law courts, from the nuir her of libel suits against them N' fi72 NOCTES betrayed all manner of confidence, which he himself had solicited with all manner of solemnity, for the sake of a few paltry pounds, or rather for the sake of avoiding a day's work in THE JURY COURT where, after all, he might probably have been let off for a shilling. Just think of a gentlemen like James Abercrombie taking up with such a creature North. And all in the silly and absurd hope of giving a little annoyance to the very people who ennobled his own family but (for which he would have been Nobody) about twenty years ago no more. Tickler. Plave you seen Alexander's pamphlet 1 ? North. Not yet Is there any thing new in it ? Tickler. Why, after all, it turns out that the Lord Advocate's sig nature, which they make such a woi k about, was a FORGERY. North. Very likely ; I think tha.-'s not by any means the most heinous of all the tricks they've been guilty of. But who forged it? Tickler. Alexander does not say who, but he states the fact broadly.* Odoherty. John Bull, who has eyes everywhere, ought to take it up. North. Why, Bull seldom meddles with Scotch affairs ; and, after all, the scent of that humbug has got cold as charity. Tickler. By-the-by, what an absurd thing it is that there should not be something better here in Edinburgh in the shape of a Newspaper 3allantyne's Journal is nothing. North. Oh ! 'tis very well for the theatricals, very well indeed ; and now and then it contains good sensible business articles too ; but whenever there comes any thing like a political question of import ance, nobody can say, a priori, whether James Ballantyne is like to take the best possible view of the matter, or the worst possible one. He behaved like a very goose about the Manchester affair ; and, upon the whole, 'tis an inconsistent concern hot and cold is not the thing for me. Odoherty. Stick it into the hero ; but after all, he's the best. Tickler Bad's the best ; but, perhaps, Edinburgh is not a good place for a smart paper too narrow and limited people all egg shells damned stupid people too all taken up with their own little jokes, that are unintelligible when you pass Cramond Bridge. Odoherty. THE BEACON, for example, what a lump of dulness it was ! It seemed to me to be got up just for the private amusement of three or four spalpeens. The pamphlet as entitled. " Letters to Sir J. Mackintosh, Knt. M. P. Explanatory of th whole circumstances which led to the robbery of the Glasgow Sentinel Office, to the Death of Sir Alexander Boswell, Ba.rt; and the Trial [June 10, IH'W] of Mr. James Stuart, younger, of Dunearn ; and ultimately to the Animadversions of the Hon . James Abercromby, in the Housa of Commons, upon the conduct of the Right Hon. the Lord Advocate, and various individuals. By Robert Alexander, Editor of the Glasgow Sentinel.'' M. " THE BEACON.'' 272 Hogg. Puir callants, nae doubt they boud to hae their ain bit cackle in a corner let them abee. Odoherty. Now what a proper name Beacon was. By the holy poker, a mangy mongrel could not have lifted his leg, in passing, without putting it out. Tickler. A fine thing for the lawyers, however. Odoherty (sings.) " Ye lawyers so just, Be the cause what it will, who so famously plead How worthy of trust ! You know black from white You prefer wrong to right, As you chance to be feed. Leave musty reports, And forsake the King's courts, "WTiere Dulness and Discord have set up their thrones ; Burn Salkeld and Ventris, With all your damn'd entries. Hark, away to the claret I a bumper, 'Squire Jones." f An accident in the gas-pipes VOL, I. 20 No. VII. MARCH, 1823. SEDERUNT CHRISTOPHER NORTH, Esq., Chairmui , TIMOTHY TICK- LER, Esq., Croupier; MORGAN ODOHERTT, Esq., JAMES HOGG, Esq., &c., &c. SCENE The Blue Room the Table crowded with Bottles, Pitchers, Devils, Books, Pamphlets, <&c. TIME One in the Morning. Hoyg (proloquitur.) It's just needless for you to deny 't, mon; it was a real bad number. An binna my ain bit paper on Captain Napier,* there was naething worth speaking o' ? What were ye a' about 1 Odoherty. I was in quod hang it, they say John Bunyan and Sir Walter Raleigh wrote books there, but my spirits always sink. Hogg. And wha brought ye out ? Tickler. Poo ! poo ! he took the benefit of the cessio as usual. North. I'm sure if he would but exert himself, he need never be ji any such scrapes ; but I'm weary of speaking. Confound Hogg (aside to the Adjutant.) Never heed, he'll mind you in his wull for a' that his bark was aye waur than his bite. Odoherty. N'importe ! Here I am once more. I'll be cursed if I don't marry a dowager ere the next month is over. How well it will look "At her Ladyship's house, by special license, Morgan Odoherty, Esq., to Lady !" Tickler. "Do or die," is the word with you, it would appear. Well, you had better get a Highland garb without delay. Nothing to be done sans kilt now, sir. Even " legs and impudence " won't go down unless in puris. Odoherty. Did you see Hogg the day of the Celtic cattle-show ? 1 am told he looked nobly. Tickler. Yes, indeed. Hogg makes a very fine savage. He was all over in a bristle with dirk, claymore, eagle's feather, tooth, whisker, pistol and powder-horn. His ears were erect, his eyebrow indignant, his hands were hairy, his hurdies were horrible, his tread * This was entitled "The Honorable Captain Napier and Ettrick Forest," and was a notice of " Napier's Treatise on Practical Store-Farming, as applicable to the Mountainous Region of Kttrick Forest," &c. Truth to say, it was a strong puff of the Captain the same whoi when Lord Napier, died in China, xn 1834. M. BRODIE'S EXECUTION. 75 was terrific. I met him even where our merchants most do congre- gate, at the Cross, and truly he had the crown of the causeway all to himself. Odoherty. Had you your tail on, Clanhogg ? Hogg. Ye ill-tongued dyvour.* But what's the use o' argufying wi' the like o' you? (Sings.} Knees an' elbows, and a', Elbows and knees, and a' ; Here's to Donald Macdonald, Stanes an' bullets, an' a' I North. Ay, ay, Jemmy, that's the way to take it ; but I'm sorry you thought it a bad Number. I should have supposed that its con- taining a touch of your own would have been enough to save it with you, at least, and the rest of the Ettrick lads. Tickler. You deceive yourself, editor. North. Nay, Tickler, 1 know what you mean. Upon my word, I shall insert that thing of yours very soon ; don't be so very im- patient. Tickler. What, you old quiz! do you suppose I was angry at your omitting my little production ? You may kick it behind the fire for what I care, I assure you of that, sir. North. Not so fast, Timotheus ; but what was your chief objec- tion? Tickler. That shocking, that atrocious lie, about Brodie or rather, I should say, that bundle of lies.f Odoherty. I wrote it. 'Ware candlesticks. Hogg. Haud your haund there. Hoot, hoot, sirs ; the present company are always excepted, ye ken. Omnes. Agreed ! Agreed ! Tickler. I disdain all personality, but that paragraph was full of shocking mis-statements. The fact is, I saw Brodie hanged, and he had no silver tube in his windpipe, and r.o flowered waistcoat OK. It is true that he sent for a doctor to ask if there was any probability of escaping with life, but Degravers told him at once, sir, that he would be " as dead as Julius Csesar ;" these -were the words. But Brodie would hold his own opinion ; and nobody e'er threw down the pocket; handkerchief more assured of resuscitation. Poor devil ! he just spun round a few times, and then hung as quiet as you please, with his pigtail looking up to heaven. * Dyvour a debtor who cannot pay. M. t In Blackwootl, for February, 1823, was a reviev of D'Israeli's Curiosities of Literature, in which, noticing the fact that the Earl of Morton died by the Maiden, which he introduced into Scotland, the critic affirmed that Deacon Brrdi-j, who had been hanged (oil a drop of his own invention) f -r robbing the Exciee O?ice at Edinburgh, thirty years before, actually was executed with a silver lube in his windpipe, but that all attempts to re-animate his boa? were fruitless. The reviewer snid, ' We have reason to say we know this, for we are olj enough to have often talked with the surgeon who was present when the experiment wa* made." M. 276 NOCTES AMBROSIANJ5. Odoherty. Alas ! poor Brodie ! To tell you .he truth, I wished to hum D'Israeli a little. North. Pleasant, but wrong ! For shame upon all humming ! Odoherty. Farewell ! a long farewell to all our Noctes. Hogg. Ye mak mair trumpeting about a collector chiel, like D'Is- raeli, than mony a man of original genius and invention. Ye've never reviewed my " Three Perils of Man" yet. North. The more shame to me, I confess; but wait till the " Thiee Perils of Woman" appear, and then we'll marry them together in one immortal article. Odoherty. What, then, are " The Three Perils of Woman ?" I think, " The Three Perils of Man" were, according to our kilted clas- sic, " Women, War, and Witchcraft." Hogg. Aye ware they but faith, guess for yoursell, my cock. I ance told ane of you the name of a book I was on, and ye had ane wi' the same name out or I had won to my second volume. North. Horrid usage for a man of original genius and invention But, let's see, I think you should make them, " Man, Malmsey, and Methodism." Mr. Tickler. Or, what say ye to " Ribbons, Rakes, and Ratafie ?" North. " Flattery, Flirting, and Philabegs ?" Three F's, Hogg. Hogg. Weel, I thought of some o' thae very anes. I thought of " Kirns^ Kirkings, and Christenings," too ; and then I thought of " Dreams, Drams, and Dragoons" but I fixed at last on three L's. Odoherty. " Legs, Lace, anfl Lies ?" Hogg. Na, na, you're a' out. " Love, Learning, and Laziness." Odoherty. O, most lame and impotent conclusion ! But no doubt, you'll make it rich enough in the details. \ our " Love" will no doubt end in the cutty stool ; your " Learning," in Constable's Maga- zine ; and your " Laziness," in Black Stockings. Thus we shall have an imposhig and instructive view of life and society. Hogg. If ye say another word, I'll dedicate the buik to you, Captain. Odoherty. Do. I always repay a dedication with a puff. Hogg. Yon D'Israeli chap dedicated to you, I'se warrant? Odoherty. In writing the tale of " Learning," (for, if I understand you rightly, there are to be three separate jales,) 1 beg of you to imitate, above all other novel writers, m> illustrious friend, the Viscount D'Arlincourt.* Hogg. Arlincoor, say ye ? Wait till I ,et out my kielevine pen. Od ! I never heard tell of him afore. Odoherty. For shame ! " Not to know him." (Shakspeare.) In a word, however, my worthy friend, he is the greatest genius of tho ege. If you doubt what I say, I refer you to Sir Richard Phillips I think I see him lying there beside the head of North's crutch. * A modern French noTelist. M. VISCOUNT D ARLINCOUBT. 'J7T North. (Handing the Old Monthly to the Ensign.) There is the production. Odoherty. Ay, and here's the puff. " This is the work of a man of genius, and the translation has fallen into very competent hands." Need I read any more of Sir Pythagoras ? Hogg. Oh, no. But what is't ye wad have me particularly to keep an ee upon 1 ? Troth, I wad be nane the waur of a hint or twa to help me on with the sklate. Odoherty. 'Tis more especially in the tale " Learning," that I ven- ture to solicit your attention to my noble friend's works. He is the most learned novelist of our era. Follow him, and you will please Macvey himself. Hogg. Weel, let's hear a wee bit skreed o' him. I daresay Mr. North will hae him yonder amang the lave, beside his stult. Sauf us ! the very table's groaning wi' sae mony new authors. North. You may say so, truly ; and I groan as well as my table. Here's " The Renegade," however. Will that do, Odoherty 1 Odoherty. Yes, yes any of them will do. You see, Hogg, the noble author plunges us at once into the deepest interest of his tale. An invading army of Saracens carries ruin and horror into the hills of the Cevennes. A Princess, the heroine of the book, is driven from her paternal halls she flies with her vassals the black flag of Agobar floats awful on the breeze all alarm, terror, dismay, desolation Hogg. That's real good. I'll begin my " Laziness," wi' an inva- sion too. Odoherty. Certainly and now attend to this illustrious author's style, for it is that I wish you to copy, my dear Hogg. Hear this passage, and thirst for geology. You understand that the descrip- tion refers to a moment of the deepest and the most overwhelming emotion our Princess is in full flight, the hall of her ancestors bla- zing behind her " "While the Princess, borne on her gentle palfrey, abandoned herself to these ad thoughts, Lutevia, at a turn of the rock, again presented itself to her view. Lighted torches were seen to glance here and there upon the platforms of the castle. These moving lights, the signal of some new event, announced a tumult- uous agitation among the soldiery. The fatal bell again was heard. Ezilda coulti doubt no longer that the Saracens had attacked the fortress. She immediately struck into the depths of the mountains. The bright stars directed her march, iia she pursued an unfrequented road across untrod rocks, and by the edges of preci pices. At every step Nature presented iuexplicable horrors, produced by the various revolutions which had acted upon this region. In one place were seen streams of basaltic lava, thick beds of red pozzolanum, calcareous spar*, aud gilded pyrites, thrown out by the numerous volcanoes. In another, strange con- trast ! the ravages of water had succeeded to those of fire ; transparent petrifac- tions, marine shells, sonorous congelations, sparking scoriae, and crystallized pristns, were mixed accidentally with the confused works of different rtgions. A 278 NOCTES AMBROSIAN.E. crater had become a lake ; an ancient bed of flames, a cascade ; the wa\es of the ocean had driven back the blazing volcanoes, had placed the peaks of mountains where their bases haJ been, and had rolled pele mele, zeolites and si/ice* cinders and crystals, stalactites and tripoli ! ! 1 From a reversed cone covered with snow, and which contained freezing springs, boiling waters spouted. In the dark ages, it would have seemed that the two terrific genii of devastation, fire and flood, bad contended ; and as the mysteries of Providence put to fault the reason of the philosopher, these mysteries of nature embarrassed all the systems of the learned. " The heavens were covered with clouds, a small rain had begun to fall, and each step had become more perilous ; the narrow road cut in the rock seemed to offer only a succession of precipices. " After some hours' journey, the Princess approached a torrent, whose waters thundered between a double colonnade of basaltic pillars. At the bottom of a glen, which seemed almost inaccessible, the road enlarged. Upon a ban-en flat, surrounded by pointed rocks and enormous calcareous stones, the virgin of Lutevia perceived a sort of wild camp, lighted by scattered fires. Terror was a stranger to her soul, and believing that she was covered by the buckler of the Lord, ami that her path through life was to be marked by frightful events, Ezilda was re- signed to her stormy destiny 1 ! !" Hogg. Oh man, that's awfu' grand ; thae lang words gie siccan an air to the delineation. I dare say some o' the bonny words would suit very well in my " Learning." Will you lend me the buik, Mr. North? North. Say no more. The volumes are thine own. Hogg. Thank ye kindly, sir. Od, I'll gut this chiel or lang he. I wonder what Gray will think of me 1 But I'll easily barn him, noo he's ower the water.* Odoherty. Ay, here's another prime morceau. 'Tis a description, you are to suppose, of a grotto where a love adventure goes on. " This celebrated grotto was sunk in the base of a misshapen and rugged rock Its peak had been a volcano ; its arid summit scorched by its eruptions, covered with black lava, green schorl, metallic molliculi,vtith calcined and vitrified substances, bore in every part the destructive marks of fire ; while the sunken earth, the tchixtous stones, the beds of mud, the irregular mixture of volcanic with marine productions, and the regular piles of basaltic prisms, were evidences of the opera- tion of contending elements." Hogg. "Evidences of the operations of contending elements!" It's perfectly sublime. It dings Kilmeny na, it clean dings her ! North. Nil desperandum ! Spout us a bit more, Odoherty. Hogg. Speak weel out, Captain gie yoursel breath. Odoherty. Read yourself, Hogg ; there's a fine place. Hogg. Na, wha ever saw the like o't Ze-ze-ze-oleet Montlos Girand Salaberry berry. Ay, it's just Salaberry. Od, this is worse than the Eleventh of Nehemiah. Odoherty. Poo! You're at the notes. Let me see the book again. Did you ever describe a handsome fellow, Hogg 1 ? Well, hear how la Canaia. M. HOGG, " WATERLOO." 279 this virgin Prin"u.} 3. Show your glory In shells and scoriae 1 Pour your lava, drop your spar 1 With Stalactites, And Pyrites, And Zeolites, Hogg now will make thee stare, prodigious Parr 1 (bit.) 4. When he prints it out, The French Institute Will enrol one Scotchman more ; How we'll caper, When Supplement Napier,* For a physical paper. Bows low, nor bows in vain, by Altrive's shore I (fa.) 6. Grasp your slate, sir, S<>"teh your pate, sir, You must speak the world is dumb 1 Logic, Rhet'ric, Chemic, Metric, Fresh from Ettrick, With glorious roar, and deaf ning deluge come 1 (lit.) Hogg (much affected). Gie me your, hand, Captain. Oh, dear ! Oh, dear me ! North. Enough of this, boys. What new book have you beet reading, Tickler? Macvey Napier edited the Supplement to the Encyclopaedia Britanciea Si. UGO FOSCOLO. 281 Tickler, From Hogg to Foscolo the transition is easy. I have been much gratified with Essays on Petrarch. Odoherty. Fudgiolo's new affair ? Tickler. He must now drop that title. 'Tis really a very elegant volume, full of facts, full of fancy, full of feeling, a very delightful book, certainly. North. I glanced over it. There seemed to be a cursed deal of Balaam, in the shape of Appendixes, and so forth. Tickler. True enough. But there's sail enough to do even with that quantity of ballast. North. Have you seen a little volume about the Spanish affair, by one Pecchio, a Carbonaro Count from Italy ? Tickler. Not I, faith ; nor never will. North. No, no, 'tis not worth your seeing. It is full of Blaquiere. Edward Blaquiere, Esq. writes the preface, and puffs his excellency Count Pecchio, and Count Pecchio repays Edward Blaquiere, Esq. in the body of the book. It contains, however, and that's what brought it to my recollection just now, some most eulogistic pages about Ugo Foscolo. Here is the book, however. Read for your- self. (Handing Pecchio.} Tickler (as musing.) Ay, my Jacopo Ortis ! and so this is the way you go on, (reads) " His cottage is isolated, but well furnished. A canal is near it, that looks like the troubled Lethe. One might take our friend's abode for a hermitage, were it not for the TWO PRETTY CHAMBERMAIDS that one observes moving about the pre cincts." Two! Yes, by Jupiter, 'tis so in the bond. Two! O, ye Gods! Hogg. TWA hizzies ! Less might serve him, I fancy. Odoherty. Two ! Pretty well for the latitude of the Regent's Park.* Tickler. Well done, Mr. Last Words ! But these are your Zante tricks. " The isles of Greece ! the isles of Greece !" North. Pooh, pooh ! Timothy, you're daft. I confess I regret that ne should have been called Fudgiolo for a man never finds it easy to lose a nickname. Odoherty. Of my making. North. Sorrow on your impudence ! You have cost many a worthy body a sore heart, in your time, with your nicknames. Odoherty. True, O King ! King, live for ever ! Hogg. That's just what I ay thocht. If Mr. North could geo his ain gait, there would not be a better-natured book in a' the world it's just that lang-legged Adjutant that pits the deeviltries intill't. Odoherty. Hioicks ! hioicks? but, after all, isn't it odd that * Ugo Foscolo occupied -what he called Di-Gamma Cottage, St. John's "Wood. London. Instaad of two pretty attendants, he had three sisters, all of them very handsome ! M. 282 NOCTE3 AMBROS1A.NJE. Reviews, &c., and all their wit. and all their malice, and all their hypocritical puffing, are not able to produce the smallest effect, good or bad, upon the permanent reputation of any writer. 1 confess 1 wonder that this should be the case. North. I confess I should wonder if it were the case. Odoherty. Aha ! by this craft he hath his living ! but be honest for once, Kit North, and tell me the name of that author that has been permanently raised, or permanently depressed, beyond his merits by our periodicals ? North. Permanently is a queer word. You think to grt out by that loophole. Odoherty. Why, do but think of things as they are. Does Wordsworth stand a whit the lower, for having been a general laughing-stock during twenty long years? Or does Jefrey stand a whit the higher, for having been puffed during a period of about equal extent. North. It was I that brought up the one, and put down the other of them. Odoherty. Huzza ! A trumpeter wanted here ! Why, big fellow as you think yourself, they would just have been where they are by this time, although you had stayed in Barbadoes till this moment. Hoyg. Barbaudoes ! Was North in Barbaudoes ? Odoherty. Yes, this man who now rules, and with no light rod. the empire of European literature, consumed many years of his life among the sugar plantations of the other hemisphere. He has been a jack of all trades in his day. North. Wait, man, he'll see it all in my autobiography which, if so please the fates, shall see the light " Ere twelve times more yon star hath filled her horn." Hogg. Meaning me ? Od, I'll no be lang about twal tumblers, u that's a' the matter. Odoherty. Ha ! ha ! honest Jemmy ! But, to be serious, old boy, who then is the man that hath been elevated ? who is he that hath in this sort been depressed 1 North. Why, as I said before, you will creep out upon your "per. manently." Odoherty. And you may say that. The fact of the matter, or ut aim Josepho Icquar, " the tottle of the whole," is, that all the criti- cism that has been written since the Flood, might just as well have remained in non-existence. For example, does any one really dream that there slumbers at this moment, on the shelves of the British Museum, any real fellow whose works are not known, and deserve to be known ? Has my friend D'Israeli, or any of that tribe, ever Leon able to ferret out a long-concealed author of genius ? No, no. PUFFING AND FAME. 283 Depend on't, my dear, there's no Swift, nor Pope, nor Gibbon, nor Smollet, nor Milton, nor Warburton, nor Dryden, nor any body really worth being up to, but what all the world is up to. The criti cal bowstring has been justly applied, or baffled there is no third to these two ways of it. Tickler. I side with the Adjutant. And the longer things go on, there will be but the more need for plying the cord tightly. No age ever possessed, nor does ours for what I see, more than a very few great ones ; and to smother the small ones is but doing justice to these and to the public. Odoherty. Well said, Timothy. If one lookt round among our periodicals, there is scarcely one of them that is not laboring away to hoist up some heavy bottom. The Quarterly and the British Critic tell us that Milman is a mighty poet. The New Monthly Magazine, and five or six inferior books, keep up a perpetual blast about Barry Cornwall Waugh winds his sultry horn for the glory of Mrs. Hemans Taylor and Hessey pound the public with Barton and Allan Cunningham. North. Well, and what do ye make of all this ? Is it not true, that Mr. Milman is a very elegant and accomplished man, and that he deserves to be lauded for his fine verses ? Is it not true, that Barry Cornwall's dramatic scenes formed a delightful little book ? and ought they to be quite forgotten, merely because he has written three or four confounded trashy ones since ? Is it not true that Mrs. Hemans is a woman of pretty feeling and writes sweetly ? Is it not true that Bernard Barton and Allan Cunningham are both of them deserving of commendation ? Hogg. Hear ! hear ! Odoherty. The question is not whether these people deserve some praise, but whether they deserve the highest praise for that is what they get in the quarters I have indicated. And just to bring you up with the curb, my dear, do you really suppose that any of these names will exist anno eighteen hundred and forty-three ? Hogg. The Forty -Three's a long look heh, me ! we may a' be ancath th? moulds by that time.* Tickler , (dejectedly.} The wicked shall cease from troubling Hogg^ (ditto.} And all their works shall follow them Odoherty. Come, come; what's the fun of all this ] (Sings.) 1. Time and we should swiftly pass ; He the hour-glass, we the glass. Drink ! yon beam which shines so bright Soon will sink in starless night : Tchorus, now, Tchorus All were, except WiLon. who died in 1854. M. 284 NOCTES AMBROSIAN.E. Ere it sink, boys, ere it sink Drink it dim, boys ! drink, drink, drink 1 Driuk, before it be too late Snatch the hour you may from fate ; Here alone true wisdom lies, To be merry's to be wise. Ere ye sink, boys ere ye sink Drink ye blind, boys 1 drink, drink, drink 1 (Much applause.) North. Odoherty, Odoherty ! I say you are an absolute bar to business. Which of you will give me an article on the last Number of the Quarterly Review ? Hogg. I write in The Quarterly myself now and then, sae, if you please, I would rather it fell to the Captain's hand. Odoherty. Well, I like that notion as if I had not written in every periodical under the sun, and would not do so if I pleased to-morrow again. Why, open your gray gleamers, you Pig you should not be quite so obtuse at this time of day, I think Hogg. Whatna warks do you really contribute till, Captain ? Odoherty. I write politics in the Quarterly Belles Lettres some- times for the Edinburgh ; ditto, for the Monthly Review, (particu- larly the Supplemental Numbers about foreign books.) Divinity for the British Critic these are pretty regular jobs but I also favor now and then Colburn, Constable, Waugh, &c., in their Magazines. In point of fact. I write for this or that periodical, according to the state of my stomach or spirits, (which is the same thing,) when I sit down. Am I flat I tip my Grandmother a bit of prose. Arn I dunned into sourness I cut up some deistical fellow for the Quar- terly. Am I yellow about the chops do I sport what Crabbe calls " The cool contemptuous smile Of clever persons overcharged with bile ;" Why, then, there's nothing for it but stirring up the fire, drawing a cork, and Ebonizing ainsi va le monde ! North. So, Principle, Mr. Odoherty, is entirely laid out of view ? Odoherty. Not at all, not for the Bank of England, my dear fellow. But what has Principle to do here ? no more than Principal Baird, I assure ye. Why, don't we all know that little Cruikshank did the caricatures of the King for Hone, and those of the Queen for the other party,* and who thought the less either of him or his carica- tures ? Are a man's five fingers not his own property ? North. Dans sa peau mourra le Reynard. So you seriously think vourself entitled to play Whig the one day and Tory the next. He did uot-M. THE QL \RTERLY. 285 Odoherty. " Tros Tyriusque mihi nullo discrimine agetur" North. You talk en Suisse. Odoherty. Ay, and as you know to your cost, old boy. Point d 1 argent, point de Suisse ! Hogg. I dinna follow you vera weel, but I'm feared you're making a very shameful story of yourself, Captain Odoherty. North (aside to Hogg.} My dear Cory don he's only bamming us, 1 believe. Hogg. Oh! the neerdoweel ! to bam Mr. North! this beats a'! Odoherty. " This beats York races, Doncaster fair, and Judges come down to hang folks." North. Enough ! enough ! but once more to business, my friends ! what say you as to the Quarterly ? Tickler. "Tis certainly a first-rate Number, the best they have had these three or four years ; but I don't see why you should have an article upon it. North. I do see it, though. Sir, the Quarterly has done itself immortal honor by that paper " On the Opposition." I should wil- lingly give something to know who wrote it. Tickler. Why, 'tis well argued and well written ; but after all, your own work had said the same things before, and perhaps as well. North. No, indeed, sir. We had uttered the same sentiments and opinions ; but neither so wisely nor so well : the clear, quiet, mas- terly exposure in that paper has not often been rivalled. We have had few things so good since Burke's pamphlets. Once more, I would like to know the author's name.* Hogg. Can it be Mr. Canning ? North. No, no ; it has neither his rhetoric nor his oratory : nor has it the air of being written by so old or so high a statesman as Canning. Tickler. Croker? North. Out again. It wants his rapidity and his vivadi vis. Com- pare it with the Thoughts on Ireland. They, to be sure, were written when he was very young, and the style has the faults of youth, in- experience, and over imitation of Tacitus ; but still one may see the pace of the man's mind there ; and a very fiery pace it is. Odoherty. I do not think it can be Gifford's own handiwork. North. I would not swear that. It has much of the masculine de- termined energy of Gilford's mind ; and if it has none of the bad jokes that used to figure in his diatribes, for bitter bad some of them were, why, such a man may very well be supposed to have discovered his own weak points by this time. Of lak, more's the pity, his pen has not been very familiar to us even in the Review. f * Dr. Maginn. M. f Gifford retired from the Quarterly in 1824, and died in 1826. M. 28(> NOCTES AMBROSIA1OE. Tickler. It will be a great loss to literature when he retires from his Review. 1 wonder who is to succeed him. North. I wish, with all my heart, he had a successor worthy of himself: a man inspired, like him, in spite of all his defects, with a true and deep reverence for the old spirit of English loyalty and English religion ; and, what will be even more difficult to match, imbued with a thorough knowledge of the old and genuine classics of our literature. I fear no young man will do ; and I know of no old one likely to buckle to such a labor. Murray should look twice ere he leap ; but perhaps Gifford himself may stand it out longer than seems to be generally expected. Tickler. I hope so. After all, the Tories might find it almost as difficult to replace him, as the Whigs would find it to replace our friend Jeffrey. North. Just so. The truth is, that both GifFord and Jeffrey have done many wrong things the latter many hundreds, perhaps ; but take them all in all, they are scholars and gentlemen, and literature must number them among the bene meriti of her republic. Com- pare them with the fry they have so long kept in the shade. Hogg (testily.) Neither the tane nor the tither has said a word about " The Three Perils." Odoherty. Come, that's shabby, however. But cheer up ; I will do you in both, ere three months be over, or my name's not Morgan. North. Lord keep us! Does an old stager like the Shepherd feel sore upon such points as these ? I profess 1 had no notion of it, or J should have buttered you with the thumb long ago myself. Hogg. Praise is praise, an it be but frae a butcher's calland. North. Elegant, Hogg ! How you would squeal if I put the knife m your hide ! No jokes on me, my formose puer. Hogg. Dinna gloom that gait. Od ! I was na meaning ony offence Tickler. Kiss and be friends. But, North, don't you wonder at the Quarterly's taking no notice of the Spanish affairs ? I confess I ex- pected a paper on that subject, full of real information ; which, indeed, we need not look for in any other quarter. North. Wait a little. I suppose it will keep cool for a little, like that dishing of O'Meara. Odoherty. I give up my brother bog-trotter. He is indeed dished. Tickler. Ay, and yet I am not sure whether it be not Cobbett that has given him the coup-de-grace. Did you see the Statesman's arti- cle? No? Well, then Cobbett just says the truth smack out.* O'Meara may bother away with paragraphs till Doomsday. He is a gone man, until he denies the letters printed in the Quarterly. * Cobbett wrote leading articles, at that time, in The Statfsman, which soon went down M 1>3OK PUFFING. 287 North. " Elegant O'Meara," indeed ! but if it be true that he's turned out of the menagerie, I suppose no more need be said of him. I'll tell you what is my opinion the puff on that fellow in the last Edinburgh Review must now be making my friend Jeffrey feel as sore as Dr. Phillpotts' letter itself. Oh ! sir, these are the sort of rubs that make a man bite the blood out of his nails. Phillpotts' calm, dignified, unanswerable smashing has done them more harm than any thing they had met with these many days, and then on the back of that comes this vile exposee. Odoherty. My private opinion is, that O'Meara's book was got up in a great measure as a puff on the Edinburgh Review. The art of puffing has made great progress of late. Devil a book comes out without some dirty buttering in it, either of you, North, or the Edin- burgh, or the Quarterly, or some other periodical the author wants to conciliate. Witness D'Israeli buttering Gifford Lord John Russell buttering Tom Campbell O'Meara buttering John Allen ;* and last not least, Billy Hazlitt buttering you in the Liberal. North. Call you that buttering your friends'? A shame on such butter ! Odoherty. What would you have ? The boys can't write three pages without mentioning you. If that is not butter enough for you, vou must be ill to please. Hogg. The captain's in the right. An author's aye commended when he's kept before the public. That's what gars me pit up with the jokes of some of you chields. Odoherty. Ditto. But the fact is, that the Cockneys are mad they can tell a hawk from a handsaw on other occasions ; but when- ever the wind is North, due North, 'tis all up with them out it comes, the absolute slaver of insanity. You have much to answer for. We shall hear of some tragedy among them one of these days. North. Any thing but another Mirandola say I. Hogg. Hoot, hoot, ye're ower severe now, Mr. North. The poor lads had eneugh to do to gar the twa ends meet, and now ye've rooked them clean out. If they were stout, braid-backed chields like the Captain and me, it wad be, less matter, they could yoke to some other thing ; but the puir whitefaced tea-drinking billies, what's to come o'them ? I'm wae when I think o't. Tickler. The parishes of Wapping and Clerkenwell have good actions against North he must have raised their poor-rates con foundedly. * John Allen travelled on the Continent, in 1802, as medical attendant and ompanion, ana continued a hanger-on, a literary toad-eater at Holland House for many yeais. In '311 ha was elected Warden, and in 1820, Master of Dulwich College. He contributed largely to ih trg/i Review, and died in 1843. M 288 NOCTES AMBROSIANJB. Odoherty. Oh, dear ! Slops won't come to so much. I would contract to corn and water them at sixpence a head per diem. Hogg. Wull ye put me in the schedule 1 Here's my thumb ! Odoherty. You, you monster, you Cyclops, you Polyphemus ! why, you would swallow porridge enough to ruin me in a fortnight : but if you'll part with three grinders to the Odontist's museum, I may give you, as Mrs. Walkinshaw says, another interlocutor of the Lord Ordinary. North. Come, come, Hogg, take your revenge in your novel. I have seen some of the proof sheets, and I assure you I think it will take to a hair. Indeed, my dear fellow, you cannot, if you would, launch any thing that will not have talent enough to swim it out. For my part, I liked the Perils of Man extremely well rough, coarse pieces, no doubt but, on the whole, a free rapid narrative, some eminently picturesque descriptions, a great deal of good blunt humor, and one or two scenes, which I wonder the play-wrights have not laid paw upon long ere now. Indeed, I think the Devil, the eat- ing Ploughman, the two Princesses, &c. &c., would all do capitally on the stage. You should send a copy to Terry* or Murray. Mur- ray, by the way, deserves much credit for his dramatization of Nigel. Hogg. He's a clever lad, Murray. I like him better than ony play-actor they have. He never gangs beyond Nature, and he never buckles to ought but what he's up to. Odoherty. Would all actors and all authors had wit to follow that example! There is really an immensity of quiet comic humor about Murray how good is his Jerry Hawthorn ! but he did wrong to leave out Almacks in the East, and the Tread-mill these were absurd sacrifices to the squeamishness of the modern Athens they were, in fact, the best things in the original piece, f North. I hobbled out one night to see the thing, but although the acting was excellent, with the single exception of the row, the affair struck me as a confoundedly dull one no incident, no story, no character, a precious heap of trash assuredly. Tickler. Well, good acting is a jewel Murray, with his bluff humor, Calcraft, with his true gentlemanlike lightness, and Jones with his inimitable knowing grin, made it .go down with me sweetly. What do you think of Mr. Vandenhoff? Odoherty. No Vandal but Young has been here ! North. Come, come, nobody starts with being a Young. Rome was not built in a day link by link the mail is made we must all creep before we walk. * Terry was then manager of the Haymarket Theatre in London, and Murray of the Edin- bnrgh Theatre. M. t Pierce Egan s " Tom and Jerry." M. RHYMING KOSE. 289 Odoherty. You're as great in proveibs as Sancho himself, I swear. Why don't you write a rational book on them ? Nothing worth twopence in that way, since Erasmus's Adagia all our English books contemptible poor imperfect dull stupid and devoid of all arrangement. As for D'Israeli, he, as I said in my review of him, knows nothing whatever of the subject ; for he quotes, for great rarities, a few of the most hackneyed ones in existence old Plu tarchs, Joe Millers, and the like. North. I admire no proverbs more than those Dean Swift used to make (not to repeat.) Odoherty. It would be a good thing to revive the manufacture, and apply it to literary topics. North. We shall see what would you think of reviving Cowper's rhyming prose* in the mean time? I think you might do that, easily, Hogg, or you, Odoherty ; either of you have rhymes, God knows, quantum suff. Hogg. I fear 'twill be stuff but let's try our hand Odoherty. On Peveril of the Peak Hogg. The story's ill plann'd, and the foundation very weak ; yet, begin where you please, I rather think you'll not stop Great authors like these may jump or hop, they may leap over years, in one ohapter a score or more, yet no gap appears, one reads on as before ; but if I or any other should follow after that great brother, skipping and hipping, notching and botching, I rather apprehend my very best friend would vote me a Bore. Odoherty. You need not feel sore although that should be the case, I make bold, my dear Jamie, to tell ye the truth to your face, there's something so sweet, and so mellow, and so little of the air of being got up, about the style of that right fellow, that whatever he touches pleases ev.erybody, male and female, from Grizzy to the Duchess, from the porter to the peer ; and, this is what's so queer, all's one whether he describe King Charles or King Charles's little pet pup, or beer foaming in a night cellar's barrels, or muscat wine sparkling in a jewell'd cap high or low, with him we go ; no affectation, no botheration, sound sense, a high feeling for honor and arms, a heart * A few years later, this rhyming prose was actually revived, and by no less an author than D'Israeli, in his " Wondrous Tale of Alroy." However, he did not make very much use of it. In May, 1833, Maginn, who wrote nearly all the letter-press to the "Gallery of Literary Characters" in Fraser's Magazine, (the etched portraits were by Daniel Maclise, then a young Irish artist rising into celebrity, and now one of the first painters in Europe,) hit off this rhyming prose very neatly. The sketch thus commenced: ' Reader dear ! do pray look here. prose, as any or 3 can ascertain who will make the experiment. Maginn could talk in this rhymeil prose for half an hour at a time, without ever pausing for a word or rhyme. I have no dou It that the next few pages, in which continuous examples are given, are written by Alacinn M. VOL. I. 21 290 NOCTES AMBKOSfANA. that the black eye of a pretty girl warms, gently and gaily, but never ungentaly, a pawky glance into everything mean, yet somehow or other a loftiness of spirit that never ceases to be felt and seen ; these are the qualities, by which he contrives to make all the rest of your tribe look like nullities, and by which no ofience, for you must not be disappointed of your rhyme, though it comes a little disjointed he contrives, thanks to his long nob, to draw into his own fob suo.h a noble shower of pounds, shillings and pence. Hogg. I wish out of his next book, for which I suppose we may soon begin to look, he would be so kind as to pay down what I owe to the Duke, and also to the Crown, for rents and taxes and so forth ; or you, why won't you do the same good turn for me, Mr. North ? North. If I were you, Dear Jem, when money became due to them, I would instantly take my pen and compose an ode ; they never would dun you again, if your verses flowed, as I think they would, easy and good, and sweet and pleasant, as your prose does at present; but as for me, my dear honey as for me paying down money, for you or any other pastoral poet, I must have ye to know it, the idea's quite absurd I won't do it, upon my word I am not so green. In point of fact, I have entered into a compact, (with myself, I mean) to keep all my cash, making no sort of dash, buying neither pictures nor plate, nor a Poyais estate ; eating nothing better than plain veals and muttons, and drinking nothing better than simple claret and champagne ; dressing up my old coats with new collars and buttons ; and, in a word, cutting all expenses that are foolish and vain, and driving on with the old phaeton, the old horses, and the old pos- tilion ; in short, maintaining the most rigid economy, until it be uni- versally known o' me, that I am fairly worth my cool million. When that is done, there will be something new seen under the sun ; for I'll let nobody then call me a niggard, but mount everything in the grandest style, that was ever seen in this part of the isle, show- ing off, whoever may scoff, like a second Sir Gregor Macgregor.* Hogcj. I suppose you speak of his highness the Cazique : but, after all, what could he have expected, if he had but recollected, that ever since the reign of Canmore was ended, the clan of might and main from which that potentate is descended, have condescended to patronize as their favorite air, that fine old pibroch, "Pacck- hundsaidh gu bair." CHRISTOPHER A CACIQUE. 291 O ne'er such a race was, as there in that place was .rtnd there ue'er such a chase was at a', man ; From ilk other they ruu, all without tuck o' drum Deil a body made use of a paw, man ; And we ran, and they ran, And they ran, and we rau, But wha was't run fastest of a', man ? Whether they ran, or we ran, or we wan, or they wan, Or if there was winning at a' man, There's no man can tell, save our brave general, Wha first began running of a', man ; And we ran, d here we have a little small criticism, puffing their last poems. I is the production of a fourth-rater. I have read critiques as deep m Ackeimau's Re- pository.* Tickler. You won't say that of Brougham's article on Grattan ? Odoherty. No, no the article is full of talent of such talent as Mr. Brougham possesses and, to say truth, I loved old Grattan, and 1 like very well to see him puffed, even by such a man as Brougham ; for Brougham, though a Whig, is not a goose. Tickler. How shabby is the notice of Croly ! Odoherty. Right shabby certainly, and right shallow at the same ume, as I shall ,low you. Brougham, if you observe, se.ts out with abusing my good friend young Grattan for publishing panegyrics on his father, written by men of various abilities, but particularly for giv- ing to the world that by "a certain Rev. Mr. Croly, whoever he /;3. M. $ Maud. A Scottish peasant's plaid. M. ?" The JJrowniu of Uodsbvck," one of Hogg's first prose stories. M. On the contrary, like the rest of (iult's historical novels, "liingan Qilhaize" was never of touch mark or note, and was soon forgotten. M. LADY CAKOLLNE LAMB. 317 ment of the Reformed and Presbyterian Religion in this kingdom very great art in the management, I assure you. Hogg. Oh, it's a braw book it's a real book I aye liked Gait, and I like him better than ever now. He has completely entered into the spirit of the Covenanters far better than The Unknown clean aboon him, head and showthers. The real truth of the character Odoherty. Who the- devil cares about the Covenanters ? Confound the old bigoted idiot, say I ! Have you seen Murray* in Claverhouse ? Tickler. I have, and he plays it and looks it nobly. The r'.rama is one of the best from those novels. Maokay's Cuddie Headiigg, Mrs. Nichol's Mause, and Mason's old Milnwood, are particularly excellent. Hfxjy. What for have they no had the sense to keep the one table with the saltfoot, as in the novel ? They've clean missed a fine point by that silly alteration. Tickler. They have. Tell them of it, and they'll mend it. Hogg. I had a letter from an Ettrick lad that's settled in America, the other day, and he says they've made a play there out of my THREE PERILS already, and it takes prodigiously. They've mail 1 sense owerby there than here at hame, in some particulars. They turn a' my novels into plays. Od ! I cannot but say it makes me prood to think that I'm acting just now, at this very moment, in New York, maybe, and Boston, and half a dozen mair of their towns intill the bargain ; and then, how they translate me in Germany ; but Kempferhausen can tell you better aboot those things. Kempferhausen. Pooh! they translate every thing in Germany; you need not take that as any very great compliment. And in France too, faith I believe they translate any thing in Paris that's written in England. Hogg. I wad like to see mysell moushified. If ye have the French Brownie of Bodsbeck, let me hae a lend o't; od ! I would not won- der if it garred me tak to learning their lingo. Odoherty. And then, perhaps, we shall have you writing a book in French yourself, like a second Sir William Jones, or Mr. Beckford. By the way, was there ever such a failure as this new imitation of Beckford's Vathek, ADA REIS ? Tickler. I could not get through with it for one; wild and dull together won't do. Lady Caroline} is a very clever person certainly, but she should really take a little time and thought. Graham llamil- * W. n. Murray, manager of the Edinburgh Theatre, of which his sister, Mrs. Henry Sid- dons, was lessee. He was an excellent actor. Charles Mackay, whose Baillie Nicol Jarvie, in " Rob Roy," was never equalled, was one of the main supports of this theatre. M. t Lady Caroline Lamb (whose husband became Lord Melbourne, after her death in 1823, at the age of forty-two) possessed some literary talents, and made herself not a little notorious by tin' /.i.-al with which, as a canvasser among the electors, she assisted her brother-in-law (the Hon. Gforge Lamb) when he was a candidate for the cepresentation of Westminster. Her wild passion for Lord Byron was fatal to her domestic felicity, ruined her character, and alienated her friends. She wrote three novels, " Ulenarvon," (of which she is supposed to have made Byrou the hero,) " Graham Hamilton," and " Ada Keis." 31. 318 NOCTES AMBROSIAN.E. ton vas bad, and this is worse. I wonder Murray took the trouble to publish it. Odoherty. Nevertheless, Tickler, there are some fine passages, some noble things, after all. But to imitate VATHEK and to tail were very nearly the same thing. Vathek, sir, is one of the most original worka that our age has seen.* It will live when Fonthill is in ruins cere perennius. Jfoyy. I w : sh you would tell me your notion of some more of the new books, sirs ; for I've gotten some of the Ettrick lads' siller yet, and I'm resolved to carry them out every thing that I can coff. Blackwood says, "The Monks of Leadenhall" is a good novel. Tickler. It is very fair ; the author has spirit and imagination, and knowledge too, he will be a rising man yet, you will see if he takes a little more time and consideration. By all means, export The Monks of Leadenhall to St Mary's. 'Tis a very promising work. Hogg. Thank ye, I'll e'en buy't then, and " The Pioneers," that's a book of Murray's I suppose it will be worth its price, since it comes out of his shop, for John's no that keen o' novels now-a-days. Tickler. Why, the author has very considerable talents but " The Spy " was far better. This is rather a heavy book ; but, however, it will go down on Yarrow and elsewhere ; any thing is valuable in so far that paints new manners and, American manners are a rich mine and this writer bids fair to dig to purpose in it.f Kempferhausen. Washington Irving is, I hear, busy with German manners now. lie has taken up his residence there, and is deter- mined to give us a German Sketchbook in the first placej (what a present this will be!) and then a series of works, all founded on German stories, and illustrative of the characters and customs of Ger- man life. Odoherty. Come, this is good news, Kempferhausen I am truly happy to hear Geoffrey Crayon has got hold of so fine a field. In the meantime, do you stick to your tackle, and devil-a-fear but there's enough for you both. Horjg. I've bought D'Israeli's book, and Butler's Reminiscences.^ Tickler. Right in both. Butler is a delightful writer so calm, so leciurai oeauues, ura me iasi i nearii 01 u was uwi u nau ueeii convened inio a niciory : .u. t Feniraore Cooper's sea anil Indian novels obtained very large prices in England, where (to secure the copyright) most of them were first published. M. $ Washington Irving (says " The Men oft/ie Time") passed the winter of 1822 in Dresden, re- turned to Paris in 1S23, and moved to London in May, 1824, to publish his Tales of a Traveller, which appeared in August of that year. M. Isaac D'Israeli, best kno> English statesman and write well known Roman Catholic In 1S23. He also was eighty SCOTTISH PAINTEBS. 319 sensible, so judicious, so thoroughly the scholar and gentleman. I love Butler, and wish his Reminiscences had been five times a,s large. I read the book through at a sitting and delightful reading it was. Odoherty. There's another new book has just come out, something between D'Israeli's manner and Butler's ; but I don't know whether it will be in Hogg's way the " Heraldic Anomalies." Tickler. 0,_ a very clever book I mean to give North a review of it one of these days, and then Hogg will judge for himself. It is real- ly quite full of information and amusement too.* Odoherty. Who wrote it ? Tickler. God knows ! some old pawky Barrister some venerable qui/zer among the benchers, I should guess. There's a vast bunch of good legal jokes ; and a sort of learning that nobody but a lawyer could have acquired. He is a good-natured, polite and genuinely aristocratic writer I wish we had more such. Mayn't it be Butler himself? Kempfcrhausen. I should have thought it possible, but he quotes and praises Butler's books, and of course Butler is above all that sort of trick. Somebody mentioned Dr. Nares.f Tickler. Ah ! a good guess too. Why, the man that can write both that Glossary of the Old English Tongue, and that admirable novel of "Thinks I to Myself," may do any thing he pleases. The Archdeacon is a firet-rate man, or at least might be so if he chose to give himself the trouble. Odoherty. Well, I hope we shall have more both of him and of Butler. I shall be happy to see the review, Timothy ; but you know you promised to do Allan's picture, and yet where is it ? The article, I mean. Tickler. Upon my soul, I had quite forgot. I hope the picture is sold ere now. Odoherty. I see it is considerably lauded in the Literary Gazette and elsewhere. Raeburn and he always keep up our art at the exhi- bition. Tickler. And Wilkie but I shall say nothing of him, for I observe Hazlitt abuses us for being so proud of him. Odoherty. I think he might take to abuse of you for being so proud of Allan too really Allan rises every day.J Tickler. Yes, sir that figure of John Knox is the finest effect hia * By Miss Hawkins, I believe. She was daughter of Sir John Hawkins, the friend and execu- tor of Dr. Samuel Johnson, of whom he wrote a biography, severely handled by the critics but with peculiar acerbity by " Peter Pindar." M. t Dr. Robert Nares, whose novel " Thinks I to Myself" was very popular, about half a cen- tury ago, was co-editor for many years (with Mr. Beloe) of the British Critic, a high-church literary review. He wrote several recondite philological works, and when he died in 1329, held four or flve rich preferments in the Church. M. * It is scarcely necessary to go into details respecting painters so well known as Raeburn, Wilkie, and Allan. The first, who was the best portrait-painter of his time in Scotland, d.ou #20 NOCTES AMBROSIAN.E. pencil hns made. Heavens ! to think of these rich people buying Tenierses and Gerard Dows at such prices, when they could get some- thing so infinitely better with all their merit, and something fifty times beyond them into the bargain for, comparatively speaking, a mere tritle. Odoherty. Come, I don't know what you mean by trifles and as for Allan, he can't complain, for devil a piece of his own handiwork has he upon his hands. Tickler. That's right so much genius united with so much indus- try always must command success. I am glad to hear he gets on so well, however. Odoherty. You'll see him in his chariot ere he is three years older. Hogg. Set him up wi' chariots ! Deil mean him ! I think if yon auld clattering rickerty of a gig does for a poet like me, a shelty may serve ony brushman amang them. Chariots ! Odoherty. Pooh ! I mean to sport a coach and six myself one of these days. What do you think I have been offered for my new work ? Tickler. " THE WEST COUNTRY, A NOVEL ?" Odoherty. The same.* Guess, Timothy. Hogg. Five hundred ? Tickler. A cool thousand ? Odoherty. Fifteen hundred giu'neas, by the holy poker ! What think ye of that, Jamie Hogg ? Hogg. Fifteen hundred guineas ! hoh, sirs ! What will this warld come to ! Thae booksellers are turned princes. It will be an awfu' book for selling though, Captain. It is all about Glasgow. Odoherty. Glasgow, Paisley, and Greenock these clasical haunts are all included under this most rural title. It is to be my chef d'osuvre. I intend to take Gait and annihilate him I mean his " West Country," the old " West Country," the " Entail." Hogg. Do that, and you'll do something. Tickler. Depict a living idiot equal to Wattie,f and eris mihi Mag- nus Apollo ! Odoherty. No want of idiots ; but, as Hogg says, " wait a wee." Have any of you seen the concluding cantos of Don Juan ? Tickler. Oh ! we have all seen them. North has had a copy of them these six weeks. I wonder if they're ever to get a publisher.f * Which never was written. t The half-witted hero of" The Entail." M. t Cantos I. and II. of Don Juan were published in July, 1819, without Ihe name of author or publisher. Cantos III., IV. and V. appeared tojrether, in August, 1821, still without the namo of either author or bookseller. Cantos VI., VII., and VIII., written at Pisa, ill July, 1822, were published in London in July, lyJo. M. DON JUAN. 32} Hogg, They're extraordinary clever they're better even than the twa first ; but that mischievous Constitutional Association will not let ony body daur to print them.* And, after all, it's maybe as weel, sae, for they're gey wicked, I must alloo ; and yet, it's arnaist a pity, Odoherty. I have a great mind to turn bookseller myself, just on purpose to put an end to all this nonsense. A pretty story, tiuly that two cantos of Byron's best poetry should be going a begging for a midwife ! Horrible barbarism ! Tickler. Just retribution - ! How are the mighty fallen ! " CREDE BYRON ! !"J Odoherty. Crede humbug ! {Left ft * A Society which was organized in London, to prevent and punish (he publication of im moral and seditious works. It raised large funds by subscription, but did little more than spend them, chiefly in heavy salaries and good dinners. M. 1 " Crede Byron," the heraldic inotto of the house of Lyron. M. VOL, L 23 No. IX. JUNE, 1823. Odoherty. Make your mind easy, rny old poet, about it. They stand no more in need of your assistance, than a seventy-four wants to be towed through the Bay of Biscay by a six-oared yawl. North. There would be no harm, however, in saying, that Quen- tin Durward is a splendid book ? Odoherty. And as little good. Why need you hold your farthing candle to the sun ? Hang it, man, never deal in axioms. I was truly sorry to see you in your last Number so anxious to show up the Vi- comte Soligny as an ass, when every body saw his measureless ears, pricked up in proud defiance, affronting the daylight.* Butter. We punsters of Rhedycina are indignant with the Great Magician for missing a capital pun, and making a poor one. You re- member what Louis says to Tristan L'Hermite when he is confined, and wishes to have the astrologer hanged that pun about finis. Tickler. Yes ; here's the passage. " Tristan, thou hast done many an act of brave justice finis I should have saidfunus coronat opus." Butter. Read it, meo periculo, funis coronat opus. " We must crown the business by a rope." Isn't it more professional ? North. Decidedly, a much better pun. Is it yours ? Mullion. Has Durward been dramatized yet? North. I don't know ; but I suppose it has. Terry would have but little la^-or en his bane's, for many of the scenes are dramatic enough for the stage even as they are.f Mullion. The defiance of Oevecosur, for instance. There need not be a word added or diminished there. Tickler. That certainly is a magnificent scene a model for all de fiances. Odoherty. Could not we get up a thing of the kind here, in our own way ? North. How ! What the deuce have we to do with such things ? Odoherty. Why, then, I'll tell you, my ancient biscuit-biter. AA soon as Constable's new shop is finally settled painters, glaziers, ma- * A review, in the May number of Bla^cood, of " Letters on England, by Victoire, Count de Soligny," published by Colburn, of Tx>ndon, and affiliated, by Maga, upon little Tims, the Cockney, who was one of the guests in the : ent. in August, 1819, as heretofore related. M. t Quentin lurward, published in June, 1828, was the first of Scott's fictions which obtained reputation on the Continent. Terry, who adapted several of the novels for the stage, did not take this in h-ind, but it was dramatized, and made a splendid spectacle. M. THE DEFIANCE OF ODOHERTY. 323 sons, tilers, slaters, carpenters, joiners, upholsterers, paperers, and all that fry, bowled out clean, there is to be a high dinner given to all the men of blue and yellow. 'Jeffrey in persona in the chair. North. Well, what then ? Mullion. I suppose that when the Reviewers are mustered, Odoherty wishes them to be peppered. North. Knit him up to the stanchions for that pun. It is beyond question the worst I have heard, since the days of Harry Erskine. Perge, Signifer. Odoherty. Would not it be a good thing for you to defy him then and there, when surrounded by the host of the ungodly ? Tickler. Who would be the ambassador ? Odoherty. My own mother's son ; and you should be herald, being a man of inches. I should not dress exactly a la Crevecoeur ; but hand me the first volume of Quentin, and I shall follow it as close as possible. North. Here, most worthy legate. Odoherty (reading Quentin Durward, vol. i. p. 205, with a slight deviation from the words of the text). Would not this read grandly in future ages, " Ensign and Adjutant Morgan Odoherty, a renowned and undaunted warrior " Mullion (aside). Over a tumbler of punch. Odoherty. "Entered the apartment, dressed- in a military frock-coat, thickly frogged, black stock, Cossack trovvsers, Wellington boots, and steel spurs. Around his neck, and over his close-buttoned coat, hung a broad black ribbon, at the end of which dangled a quizzing-glass. A handsome page " Hogg. Wha the deil will he be ? Odoherty. Don't interrupt me. " A handsome page, James Hogg, Esq., Shepherd of Ettrick " Hogg. Hear till him ! Me a page to a stickit Ensign ?* Odoherty. " Bore his hat behind him. A herald preceded him, bearing his card, which he held under the nose of Francis ; while the ambassador himself paused in the middle of the hall, as if to give present time " Tickler. What, by the way, did the Great Unknown mean by such a phrase as "present time?" Mullion. Perhaps, because the business was no past time. North (springs up in a rage}. By Jupiter Ammon, Mullion, another such pun, ana I will fine you a bumper of magnesia water ! Odoherty. "As if to give present time to admire his lofty look, commanding stature, and the modest assurance which marked the country of his birth." * When a licentiate of the Scottish church, whose devotion" or ambition has lod him into the pulpit, happens to fail as a preacher, he is usually spoken of as " a stickit Dorainie." In like mannei, uo doubt, Hogg thus alluded to Odoherty as a mere carpet-knight. M. 324: NOCTE8 AMBROSIAN.E. Omnes. Hear, hear, hear ! Odoherty. Well, I'll skip on to the defiance at once. Turn to page 213. (A rustling of leaves is heard.) "Hearken, Francis Jeffrey, King of Blue and Yellow Hearken, scribes, and balaamites, who may be present Hearken, all shy and shabby men and thou, Timothy Tickler, make proclamation after me I, Morgan Odoherty, of the barony of Ift'a and Offa west, and the parish of Knockman- downy, late Ensign and Adjutant of the 99th, or his Majesty's Tippe- rary regiment of infantry, and Fellow of the Royal, Phrenological, Antiquarian, Auxiliary Bible, and Celtic Societies of Edinburgh ; in the name of the most puissant chief, Christopher, by the grace of Brass, Editor of Blackwood's and the Methodist Magazines ; Duke of Humbug, of Quiz, Puffery, Cutup, and Slashandhackaway ; Prince Paramount of the Gentlemen of the Press, Lord of the Magazine rs, and Regent of the Reviewers ; Mallet of Whiggery, and Castigator of Cockaigne ; Count Palatin of the Periodicals ; Marquis of the Holy Poker ; Baron of Balaam and Blarney, and Knight of the most sting- ing Order of the Nettle, do give you, King of Blue and Yellow, openly to know, that you having refused to remedy the various griefs, wrongs, and offences, done and wrought by you, or by and through your aid, suggestion, and instigation, against the said Chief, and his loving subjects, the authors in particular, and the Tory people in gen- eral, of this realm, he, by my mouth, renounces all belief in your asseiy, pronounces you absurd and trashy, and bets you sixpence, that he beats you as a critic and as a man. There, my tester is posted in evidence of what I have said." Omnes (with enthusiasm). Hear him ! hear him ! hear him ! Odoherty. Let me go on, for I think the remainder would be ap- plicable. " So saying, he plucked the sixpence from the bottom of his breeches pocket, and flung it down on the floor of the hall. " Until this last climax of the bet, there had been a deep silence in the Whig apartment during this extraordinary scene ; but no sooner had the jingle of the tester, when cast down, been echoed by the deep voice of Timotheus, the Blackwoodian herald, with the ejaculation ' Vive Tete de Buchanan !' than there was a general tumult ; while Brougham, Sydney Smith, Leslie, and one or two others, whose coats, whole at the elbows, authorized the suspicion that they could sport the coin, fumbled in their Dockets for wherewithal to cover the six- pence ; the Seven Young Men exclaimed, ' No bet with you, Butcher I Bubble, bubble ! Comes he here to insult the King of the Libellers in his own hall ?' " But the King appeased the tumult, by exclaiming, in a voice agreeably composed of the music of an English coachee grafted upon a genuine Embro' brogue, ' Silence, my lieges ! Cover not the bet, for you would 'ose your blunt; Christopher is too rum a customer for mo.'" LEDDY GR1PPY. 325 Hogg. Od, man, that's the verra way Advocate Jeffrey speaks. Tickler. It would be a fine subject for a picture. 1 shall suggest it to Allan, when I see him next. Muliton. It could be called the " Defiance of Doherty." Odoherty. I trouble you for the vowel, my friond Odoherty, if you please I have no notion of any body's being alliterative at my ex- pense. Tickler. Yes, it would be a grand historical paintirg. The stuck- pig stare of the great man himself the scowling fury of Brougham the puckered-up nose of the Mercurial Parson the jobbernowl gape of " our fat friend "* the sentimental visage of the " Modern Pygmalion" the epileptical frenzy of the half-human countenance of the , and the helpless innocence of the Seven Young Men, would be truly awful and sublime, while the magnificence of the Odoherty- Odoherty. The stateliness of the Tickler- Tickler. And the beauty of the Hogg, would afford a fine fore- ground. Buller. Allan should lose no time. If he does not do it at once, as I am off for London to-morrow, I shall speak to that other great master of the sublime, George Cruikshank. North. There is another defiance in the third volume, where De la Marck sends Maugrabbin to the Duke of Burgundy. Mullion. If you copy that defiance, send Hogg as ambassador, for he has the best title to be Rouge Sanglier. Hogg. I wish, doctor, ye would let Hogg alane. What for are ye aye hading me intill your havers, by the lug and the horn ? I diuna like it. Odoherty. What ! surly ? Hogg. It's no decent to be aye meddling wi' folks' personalities. I'm sure by this time the whole set o' you might ha' raair sense. Ye ken what ye hae gotten by your personalities. North. A decreet o' Court, Jamie, as Leddy Grippyf would have said. TicHer. Softly on that score. North. What do you mean ? Tickler. Have you not heard the news ? Why, the old woman still alive. Hogg. Godsake ! is she till the fore yet ? Odoherty. Yes; all alive and kicking and in town too. Gait was taken in by the jeu d'csprit in the respectable elderly paper, an- nouncing that she died much and justly regretted. * Sir John Leslie, described by Scott as " a great philosopher, and as abominable an animal as ever 1 saw." 5'.'. t The heroine of flalfs novel of " The Entail." M. NOCTES AMBROSIAN.E. Tickler. I see by the twinkle of North's eye that he was at the bottom of the story ? Mull ion. What story ? Tickler. Of her death. The notice of her decease was a hoax, they say, got up in the back shop. Hogg. That naebody need misdout ; mony a hoax and ither black jobs hae been ciecket there. Odoherty. The Chaldee, Jamie. Tickler. The leddy means to raise an -action. She lays the damages at five thousand pounds sterling. Hogg. And I'll lay the wad o' a crown, that she'll no fake a far- thing ; but, Captain, tell us a' about it Man, this is capital. I'll obligate Ebony to pay us for an extra number an extra number cleans his scores for Christopher's pranks. Butter. Do, Captain, let's have it. Sure we are all alike implicated in whatever affects the general concern ? Odoherty. The fact is, that Gait did not well know how to wind up the Entail ; and I advised him to kill the old hen off. Butter. And you cleared the way by the premature notice of her death, did you ? Odoherty. Just so but had the facetious paragraph which I pre pared to contradict the melancholy intelligence been inserted in Bal- lantyne's Classical Journal, it would have dried all eyes in the happiest style imaginable. Mullion. And why did it not appear ? Odoherty. I took it myself to the office, but with all the taste and discrimination which distinguishes the management of that weekly obituary of taste and fine writing, the communication was declined, unless the editor might be permitted to announce that it was "from a correspondent." I should, however, add, that the refusal was couched in the politest manner possible. Butter. Suaviter in modo, fortiter in re. Mullion. O yes the newspaper editors have of late grown so cursedly conscientious, that no ordinary consideration will induce them to insert the most indirect puff possible, upon their own responsibility, save to serve an unknown friend.* (Enter a Devil with a proof-sheet, which is handed to Odoherty Hogg looks over the Ensign's shoulder.) * A newspaper announced the suicide of a much respected gentleman. The same day, he cntne to complain of the statement as wholly unfounded, and likely to injure him. " You must Insert a contradiction in to-morrow's paper," said lie to the editor. " I will do what I consist- ently can to satisfy you," was the reply, " but as to admitting that I was misinformed, or could be, it is out of the question." The other exclaimed, " But I am here, in excellent health !** After a pause, in which he seriously thought upon the point, the editor closed the matter by saying, " I'll tell you what I can do I shall say that the rope broke, before life was quite ex- tinct, and that immediate and skilful medical assistance restored the vital spark. Ueyond ttmt, you cannot expect me to go." There is nothing, in a newspaper, so >.,teiuatic as pro- cikiiiiing your own infallibility and questioning that of all others. M. ODOHERTY S NOVEL. 327 Eh ! Captain are ye sae far forrit already \vi' your novel ? Tickler. How ! Odoherty ! are you really then at press with " THE WKST COUNTRY ?" Hogg (taking hold of the proof-sheet and looking at it). 'Deed is he and na, as I'm a soul to be saved, he has a' Gait's folks. There's Doctor and Mrs. Pringle at the very head o' the chapter tha seventeenth chapter. Omncs. Read, read, Hogg ! Odoherty. There take it. Hogg (reads). " TKe General Assembly," that's the name o' this chapter. Odoherty. No sneers at the institutions of the country. I revere the General Assembly I respect the King's Commissioner I ad- mire the table and triumphant arches thereof I laud the proces sion 1 love the Moderator's cocked-hat and breakfast. But, proceed, Jamie. Hogg (reads'). " Doctor Pringle and the Mistress took up their first abode at Leith, in the Exchange Hotel, one of the quietest houses for persons and families of sedate and clerical habits, in the whole coun- try for having brought in their own carriage, the distance from Ed- inburgh was of no consequence, though Mrs. Pringle daily grudged the high shilling toll on Leith Walk, and thought the Baillies of Ed- inbro' great extortioners for exacting so much." Odd, Captain, ye wagered that ye would write a book about the West in Gait's stvle noo, this is no ae bit like it. Omnes. Proceed ! proceed ! Hogg (reads). " Sir Andrew Wylie had promised to take tea with them and Andrew Pringle had also engaged himself, at his mother's earnest entreaties, to be present, in order to help his worthy father and her to entertain the little Baronet. The Count and Countess Mi- lani, alias Mr. and Mrs. Goldenball, had returned from their matrimo- nial excursion to the North, and the Doctor " This, Captain, will never do. Odoherty. Turn over to the tea-making there you will find, I flat- ter myself, some smack of the original. Hogg (turns over a leaf or two and reads). " I ne'er," said Doctor Pringle, "could hae thought it within a possibility, that after the sore trials Mrs. Oswald had come through " Tickler. Mrs. Oswald ! Who the deuce is she ? I remember nc such person in any of Gait's works. Odoherty. " Margaret Lyndsay !" The Doctor was speaking of her.* Tickler. What has she to do in your work, Odoherty ? Odoherty. Read on, Hogg. * Wilson's " Trials of Margaret Lyndsay." M. 328 NOCTES AMBROSIANJE. Hogg (reads). "I ne'er," said Doctor Pringle, "could hae though, it within a possibility, that after the sore trials Mrs. Oswald had come through, she would have been so soon persuaded by Mr. MacTaggart to change her life." " She took him in her advanced years for a bein down-seat," said Sir Andrew Wylie. " Ay, ay," replied Mrs. Pringle, " nane o' your overly peeous, swcet- Lppit madams for me Mrs. MacTaggart Mrs. Oswald that was I'l 1 ne'er deny she didna meet wi' an affliction, but we hae a' had our ca lamities." " It's a very just observe," said the Doctor ; " and though me and Mrs. Priugle there have lived long together in a state o' very pleasant felicity for mony a day and year, yet, if it be the Lord's will to take me to himself first, I would think it no sin in her to marry again ;" find he added, looking tenderly to the Mistress, " but, deed, Jenny, my dear, I woiildna like to see't." Omnes. Bravo, Captain ! Odoherty. Yes I think you must allow that pathetic touch to be Gait to the backbone. Hogg. Ye may brag as ye like, Captain ; but it's nae niair like his way, than the baukie bird's like the peacock. What say ye till't, Christopher ? North. I have my suspicions. Confess at once, Captain. Throw yourself on our mercy. Acknowledge that Gait assisted you with the General Assembly chapter. Buller. Veniat manus auxilio, quae sit mihi Tickler. But joking apart. Is Gait really the author of these books? Buller. I have heard Omnes (in amazement). What have you heard ? Enter AMBROSE. Ambrose. Mr. North, a lady ouid speak with you. North. Me ! 'Tis too early in the night. What like is she ? Ambrose. " Rather oldish." Odoherty. What, Kit does the taste of your loyalty go that length f But show the gentlewoman in. (Exit AMUROSK.) Mullion. A lady inquiring for a gentleman at Ambrose's between eleven and twelve ! Tickler. You never told us, North, of your marriage ? But murde/ will out, you see. Enter MKS. NORTH ! Enter AMBROSE showing in LEDDT GRIPPY. Omnes (all rising). Mrs. Walkinshaw ! The Leddy. That's my name for want, of a better. FAMA CLAMOSA. 329 North. A glass for Mrs. Walkinshaw. The Leddy. Whilk's Mr. North ? Hogg. Yon's him ye might hae kent him by the powdered wig and the green specks, and the stult at the chair back. The Leddy. Hae ye sare een, Mr. North, that ye canna thole the light, or is't only because ye ken that ye darena look me in the face ? but if ye'll no face me, ye'll maybe hae to face far waur for I'll be as plain as I'm pleasant wi' you, Mr. North. This night I will hae justice done, or the morn's morning I'll maybe gar you claw whare it's no yeuky. Gentlemen for nobody should be bird-mouthed in a case of extremity I'll pannel you for a jury at ween me and Mr. North, there sitting, and ye sail be, in the Avords of law and gospel, a covenant and jurisdiction in the great thing between us. North. I know nothing about it I know nothing about it if you have any business with me, call again, this is neither a fit time nor place. The Leddy. Warna ye art and part guilty of a fama. clamosa, in the Hebrew tongue, and on the language of Scripture ? North. I don't understand you, madam. Whatever I am respon- sible for, these gentlemen are equally responsible. The Leddy. Then ye're a' conjoint and colleague for a cessio bono- rum, to help one another. Omnes. All ! Odoherty. May I be so bold as to ask in what way does a gentle- woman of your years of discretion desire our help ? The Leddy. Touts ! Nane o' your animal eagerness, as Mr. Peveril the author ca's 't. I camna here for pastime but on a salacious case and question ; in short, I'm an injured woman a damaged person, seeking redress in consequence of Mr. Jamphrey Odoherty. The devil ! What has Jeffrey done to you ? The Leddy. Done ! what hae ye done to him, that he has in a manner washed his hands clean o' Mr. North, and a' his connections the whilk decision and verdict on his part obligates me to come here myself in propria persona and form of pauper. North. Well, and what is it that you want ? The Leddy. Heh, Mr. North ! but ye're a pepper-box. I rede you to keep ony sma' share of temper that ye enjoy ye'll hae need for't a'. Ye see, gentlemen, as I was saying, having had a com fable wi' Mr. Jamphrey, and hearing, as I was telling, how he's under the greater and lesser excommunication, and put to the horn with you and by you and is thereby terrified out of his senses at the thought of having any thing to say to you, I thought, thinks I, before the out- lay o' feeing ither counsel, I would try my Jiand at an amicable ar- rangement. Mr. North, there where he sits, hiding his face like an ill-doer, as he well knows he is to me and mine But no to summer 330 NOCTES AMBROSIANJ5. and winter in short, gentlemen, I hae come for a solarium being informed that Mr. North has been art and part in causing it to be set forth and published to the world, that I was dead, though the malice prepense was softened, as Mr. Jamphrey said, by the much and justly regretted. Now, is it not a most injurious and damageous thing, to put forth a calamity of that kind against a living and life like woman ? For, supposing I had a friend in the jaws o' death think- ing o' making his last will and testament, wherein he was inindit to leave and bequeath unto me a handsome legacy in free gratis gift, as a testimony of his great regard, and the love he bare and supposing the doctor at his bedside were to tell him I was dead, or ony sympa- thizing relation then and there present were to give him a newspaper to read, containing that interesting intelligence and supposing tlia* he was thereby moved to score me out of his will, and to depart this life would not I have sustained a great damage and could not I thereupon constitute a ground of action, and raise a salacious plea, to damnify me for the loss, detriment, and disappointment ? North. Madam ! you cannot expect us to deliver an opinion upon a case, to which it would appear we are likely to be parties. The Leddy. No but I'll be content if ye'll just compound with me for the felony. North. We can never, gentlemen, after such an appeal, be so un- gallaut as to allow a lady to go into court. Omnes. Certainly not; we shall agree to her terms at once. The Leddy. Then, Mr. North, are ye willing to confess a fault to- wards me ? North. I throw myself at your merciful feet. The Leddy. Ye hear that, gentlemen ; he confesses that he has been guilty of raising a fama clamosa against mfi. Omnes. He has : he has confessed. The Leddy. And he said ye were ilk and a' alike concernt and guilty, art and part, delinquent and culprit in the case. Omnes. We did, we freely own it ; we are all responsible for this matter, and, like him, cast ourselves at your merciful feet. Odoherty. And we hope your leddyship will spare us in the kick- ing. The Leddy. I will do that ; ye'll find me very gentle. Tickler (aside to North). Agree to any thing. Kit, to get rid of her. The Leddy. And, Captain Odoherty, ye hae acknowledged yoursel as guilty as Mr. North. Odoherty (astonished). What is she after now ? The Leddy. I take ye a' to witness, for I will produce the ane against the other in court, that ye have acknowledged yourselves guilty, with Mr. North, in the damage and detriment of a fama cla- mosa on me. Noo, though I'm content with a solacium of a hundred A STAMPEDE. 331 pounds, and a hundred pounds for cost frae Mr. North, yet I hereby give you notice, in due form of law, that I intend forthwith, unless satisfied in the interim, to bring an action against you all severally, saving and excepting Mr. North, whose offer I have accepted ; and having estimated my damage at five thousand pounds, I will have that paid down to the uttermost farthing. (JSxeu \t Omnes, in the greatest panic and consternation.) No. X JULY, 1823. A FRAGMENT Odoherty. Chorus then. Buller, awake, man. Chorus, all of yon, I say. * Chorus of Contributors. So triumph to the Tories, and woe to the Whigs, And to all other foes of the nation ; Let us be through thick and thin caring nothing for the prigs Who prate about conciliation. Dr. Mullion. Bravo, Odoherty, bravissimo ! that is decidedly one of your very best effusions. Odoherty. No blarney to me, mon ami. I have taken my degrees in that celebrated university. In candor, however, and equity, I am bound to say, that I do think it a pretty fairish song, as songs go wow-a-days. North. Why, it must be admitted, that there is an awful quantity rf bad songs vented just now. Tickler. It must be the case as long as they issue in such shoals ; the bad must bear a huge proportion to the good at all times ; for they are just the off-throwi ugs of the ephemeral buoyancy of spirit of the day ; and as actual buoyancy of spirit generally breeds nonsense, and affectation of it is always stupidity, you must e'en be content with your three grains of wheat in a bushel of chaff. North. Yes, yes they must be from their very nature ephemeral. Which of all our songs I don't mean particularly those of the present company but of all the songs now written and composed by all the song-writers now extant will be alive a hundred years hence ? Odoherty. Just as many as are now alive of those written and com- posed, as you most technically phrase it, a hundred years since. Tickler. And that is but poor harvest indeed. Look over any of the song-books that contain the ditties of our grandmothers or great-grand- mothers, and you will scarcely ever turn up a song familiar to any body but professed readers. Odoheriy. More's the pity. By all that's laughable, the reflectiou DR. KITCHENER. 333 saddens me. " Pills to purge Melancholy," has become a melancholi- ous book in itself. You read page after page, puzzling yourself to make out the possibility how any human mouth could by any device have got through the melodies the uncouth melodies Butter. You know Tom D'Urfey's plan ? He used to take a country dance, the more intricate the better for as you see by his dedication, he prided himself on that kind of legerdemain and then put words to it as well as he could. Odoherty. I know -I know but I was saying that it is an unpleas- ant sort of feeling you have about you, when you peruse, like a grop- ing student, songs that you are sure made palace and pot-houses ring with jollity and fun in the days of merry King Charles, and warmed the gallantry of the grenadiers of Britain at the siege of Namur, under hooked-nose Old-glorious,* or of Our countrymen in Flanders A hundred years ago, When they fought like Alexanders Beneath the great Marlboro'. North. Ay, " the odor's fled." They are like uncorked soda-water. Honest Tom D'Urfey, I think I see him now in my mind's eye, Ho- ratio. Holding his song-book with a tipsy gravity, and trolling forth Joy to great Caesar, Long life and pleasure, with old Rowley leaning on his shoulder, partly out of that jocular familiarity which endeared him to the people in spite of all his rascal- ities, and partly to keep himself steady, humming the bass. Buller. Have you seen Dr. Kitchener's book ? North. I have, and a good, jovial, loyal book it is. The Doctor is, by all accounts, a famous fellow great in cookery, medicine, music, poetry, and optics, on which he has published a treatise.f Odoherty. I esteem the Doctor. North. The devil you do! after cutting him up so abominably in my Magazine, in an article, you know, inserted while I was in Glas- gow, without. my knowledge. Odoherty. Why are you always reminding a man of his evil-doings ? * William III., whose " pious, glorious, and immortal memory" used to be the Orange charter toast in Ireland. M. t Dr. William Kitchener, more distinguished by gastronomic than medical knowledge, wrote a book called "The Cook's Oracle," invented new and improved old dishes, had his frioml*, as a " committee of task-," to ]>;tss judgment upon them at dinner, had very pleasant con 1-1 ;- gazione for the male and female literati, and enjoyed life much. He insisted on punctuality, and had a placard over his chimney-piece, inscribed, " Come at seven, go at eleven." George Coltnan slily interpolated a monosyllable, making the line runj " go it at eleven." Optics aud music, as well as gastronomy, supplied subjects for Kitchener's pen. He died in 182T. M. 334 NOCTES AMBROSIANJE. Consider that I have been white-washed by the Insolvent Court since, and let all ray sins go with that white-washing. To cut the matter short, I had a most excellent cookery-book written, founded on the principles practised in the 99th mess, and was going to treat with Longman's folks about it, when Kitchener came out, and pre-ooeupied the market. You need not wonder, therefore, at my tickling up the worthy Doctor, who himself enjoyed the fun, being a loyal fellow to the backbone ; a Tory tough and true. We are now the best friends in the world. Mullion. Well, let that pass what song-writer of our days, think you, will live ? Moore ? North. Moore ! No, he h;is not the stamina in him at all. His verses are elegant, pretty, glittering, any thing you please in that line ; but they have defects which will not allow them to get down to pos- terity. For instance, the querulous politics, on your local affairs, Odoherty, which make them now so popular with a very large class of your countrymen, are mere matters of the day, which will die with the day ; for I hope you do not intend to be always fighting in Ireland? Odoherty. I do not know how that will be better fighting than stagnating ; but, at all events, I hope we will change the grounds some- what I hate monotony ; I trust that my worthy countrymen will get some new matter of tumult for the next generation. North. It is probable that they will and then, you know, Moore's " Oh ! breathe not bis name," "Erin, the tear," &c., NG OF A FALLEN ANGEL OVER A BOWL OF BOM-PUNCH. ByT.M., Esq. Heap on more coal there, And keep the glass moving, The frost nips my nose, Though my heart glows with loving. Here's the dear creature, No skylights a bumper; He who leaves heeltaps I vote him a mumper. With hey cow rumble O, Whack ! populorum, Merrily, merry men, Push round the jorum. What are Heaven's pleasures That so very sweet are ? Singing from psalters, In long or short metre. Planked on a wet cloud Without any breeches, Just like the Celtic.f Met to make speeches. With hey cow rumble, tc. Wide is the difference, My own boozing bullies, Here the round punch-bowl Heap'd to the full is. It was believed that Moore's " Fables for the Holy Alliance" were subn itted to Lord Dan- Uisn, then Common Sergeant (one of the local judges) of London, previous to publication, iha he tuitrht decide on the question how libellous they were. M, t The Celtic Society, at their annual dinner, always wore the kilt. M. 336 NOCTE8 AMBROSIAN.E. Then if some wise one Thinks that up " yonder" Is pleasant as we are, Why he's in a blunder. With hey cow rumble, ed, with his perked-up mouth, and swaling night-cap,f gazing him- self away through an opening in the dimity, on a striking likeness of us, sketched by ov.r common friend Haydon, during his last visit to Scotland. He is absolutely possessed haunted waylaid bedridden not by an Incubus, God forbid, but by a most affable and benign spirit, hight Christopher North, who purifies, by gentle ministrations, the corruptions of his Cockney blood, and so fills his brain with " fancies chaste and noble," that he is henceforth appointed our Vice- Poet-Laureate, with a salary of four gallons of gin-twist, and a keg of best Dunbar red-herrings, to be paid at Hampstead at " ten of April morn, by the chime." Let no envious railer scoff at Leigh Hunt as a placeman and pensioner. No doubt, the situation is a lucrative one, and with judicious economy, our laureate, if he may not live upon it and lay by money, cannot fail to become a richer man every year. Ho must not, however, buy any more busts of those "down-looking" Greeks, and we recommend him (if he has not done so already) to sell his piano-forte. He has but an indifferent ear for instrumental music, and tuning is expensive. The position, too, either of a man or a Cockney, at the ivories, is below the dignity of our laureate, and unworthy an eater of red-herrings. The barrel-organ is a preferable instrument; and we have heard that Mr. Hunt's execution upon it is to be equalled only by his command over the hurdy-gurdy. But we are intruding into the sacred privacy of domestic life, and therefore shall not again panegyrize Mr. Hunt's musical powers, our Laureate although he be, till we have the pleasure of meeting him in the street with a salt-box, or in a lane with a Highland bagpipe. Meanwhile, let him be to us our MAGNUS APOLLAR. We refer such of our readers as may not have heard of Mr. Leigh Hunt, to various papers in this miscellany with the signature Z. These will tell what he was; but we have his own words for what he wishes to be ; and the following morceaux are from the intended life of our Vice -Laureate, adumbrated or shadowed forth in his beautiful poem, " The Choice."! * Leigh Hunt was educated at Christ's Hospital, London. The drc^s of the school-boys there consists of no cap, (the head is always uncovered, and a small woollen covering, such as would be loo small for a four-houvs-old baby, is worn on the girdle,) a long blue frock, festooned round the waist by ;i leathern belt, a girdle, yullow breeches and stockings, and thick shoes. M. t " With a perked feather swaling in his bonnet." The line was to be fouud in Hunt's " Ri- mini." He has cut it out of the later editions. M. t See Liberal, No. IV. C. N. LEIGH HUNT. 349 The poem opens with a panegyric upon Pom fret, the authoi of that freat original poem The Choice, on which Mr. Hunt's is modelled. "I have been reading Pcmfret's Choice this spring, A pretty kind of-sort-of-kind of thing, Not much a verse, and poem none at all, Yev, as they say, extremely natural. And yet I know not. There's a skill in pies, In re \sing crusts as well as galleries ; And be's the poet, more or less, who knows The charm that hallows the least tiling from prose, And dresses it in its mild singing clothes. Poetry's that which sets a thought apart, To worship Nature with a choral heart: And may be seen where rarely she intrudes, As birds in cages make us think of woods. Beaux hrxw it in them, when they love the faces Of countiy iamsels, and their worsted graces." ' aiild singing cloth his " miid 350 NOCTES AMBROSIAN.E. singing clothes !" Instead of one, he shall have two kegs of Dunbar reds. But now for him. Hear hear hear ! " First, on a green I'd have a low, broad house, Just seen by travellers through the garden boughs And that my luck might not seem ill bestowed, A bench and spring should greet them on the road. My grounds should not be large ; I like to go To Nature for a range, and prospect too, And cannot fancy she'll comprise for me, Even in a park, her all-sufficiency: Besides, my thoughts fly far; and when at rest, Love, not a watch-tower, but a lulling nest. But all the ground I had should keep a look Of Nature still, have birds'-nests and a brook; One spot for flowers, the rest all turf and trees: For I'd not grow my own bad lettuces. And above all, no house should be so near, That strangers should discern me here and there; Much less when some fair friend was at my side, And swear I thought her charming, which I did. I am not sure I'd have a rookery ; But sure 1 am I'd not live near the sea, To view its great flat face, and have my sleeps Filled full of shrieking dreams and foundering ships; Or hear the drunkard, when his slaughter's o'er, Like Sinbad's monster scratching on the shore. I'd live far inland, in a world of glades, Yet not so desert as to fright the maids: A batch of cottages shpuld smoke beside ; And there should be a town within a morning's ride." Our Vice says, " My grounds should not be large." His grounds ! Leigh Hunt's grounds ! A gentleman of landed property ! A Sur- rey freeholder ! What do you mean by " not large," Vice ? It is an indefinite expression. What think you of a couple of hundred acres ? " No low, broad house" should ever have less than an estate of that extent, at least in a ring-fence. Now, is not this rather exorbitant? Consider also the danger of losing yourself in a multitudinous sea of Swedish turnips the dead certainty of being lost for ever or found a skeleton, of several months' lying, in a potato-furrow. Besides, what a most idiotical style of fanning you here chalk out for yourself! " One spot for flowers, and the rest all turf and trees." That would never pay. Do you intend to sell the birds'-nests at Covent-Garden market eggs, or broods and all ? If so, you must study nidification ; for if you have only a " flower-garden, turf, and trees," and nothing else, devil a singing-bird will build his nest near your " low, broad house," except it be a barn-door fowl or a guinea-pig. Farther, what sort of a brook will that be, without ever a stone, or a rock, or an old rotten stump, to amuse itself with ? Such a brook would be an object A COCKNEY'S PARADISE! 351 of the deepest compassion in dry weather ; and, indeed, unless you had a draw-well, of which no mention is made, what is to become of the tea-kettle ? You say, " I am not sure I'd have a rookery." There you are right ; for when you and some fair friend were sti'olling through the grove, and you were swearing you thought her charming " which you did " down haply would plump an epaulette on each of our Vice-Laureate's shoulders, which would be no small nuisance to your fair friend, and stop the current of her ideas. But, my good sou), you speak doubtfully about the rookery, just as if you could order the rooks to build on any morning you chose to appoint. Take our advice, and have no rookery. Rook-pies are disgusting ; and then a crowd of Cockneys would be firing away at the young hop-the-twigs every spring, to the great annoyance of yourself and fair friend, to :>ay nothing of the positive danger of flying ramrods and split barrels. Let it be fixed, therefore, that there shall be no rookery. " Not so desert as to fright the maids." Do you mean here, simply, your brace of servant girls, or maids in general ? " The maids" is an equivocal 'expression, so is "fair friend;" and really all these inuendoes set one's tooth on edge, and look more like Odoherty himself than his Vice. " A batch of cottages" is far more elegant than a batch of Peers, or a batch of bread ; and " within a morning's ride" leaves the distance of the town in a pleasing obscurity. So you seriously intend keeping a horse ? I am sorry to hear it, both on your account and his ov/n. He will have poor picking on the turf among the trees, and will come down with you to a certainty. Keep a cuddy, and let him browse in the lanes ; but on no account whatever venture upon horseback. Your fair friend would have nothing else to do but to make plasters ; and we humbly conceive, that this " morning's ride" will furnish a fundamental objection to your villa. Take the coach at once, or borrow a shandrydan at the " batch of cottages," from the pig-dealer ; and so jog into town in safety. Aha ! my friend ! you are at your old tricks we knew we should catch you at last. Next comes the old imageman, with his batch of gods and goddesses on his board ; and Mr. Hunt purchases about a dozen nudities for the moderate sum of eighteen-pence a-pair, rough and smooth. "And yet to show I had a taste withal, I'd have some casts of statues in the hall, Or rather entrance, whose sweet stead}- eyes Should touch the comers with a mild surprise, And so conduct them, hushing to my door, Where, if a friend, the house should hear a roar. The grateful beggar should peep in at these, And wonder what I did with Popish images." Next our Laureate says he cou d write and read, 352 NOOTES AMBROS1AN.E. "Till it was time To ride or walk, or on the grass go rhyme." Stop a moment, if you please no riding. You forget that we al- ready put our veto on that. It is not so easy a matter for a man at your time of life to learn to ride. Gracious heavens ! are you mad ? " I'd never hunt, EXCEPT THE Fox, and then Not much, for fear I should fall," &c. Hunting the Fox a little ! Only imagine him breaking cover. AVhy, you fly over, your horse's ears at the first ditch, six inches wide. First of all, you talk of riding to town on paper your brain and your bottom warm and nothing will satisfy you, but to HUNT THE Fox. O, Fxiitor of the Annals of Sporting! what wouldst thou not give for a sight of our worthy Vice-Laureate leading the Surrey Hunt, Rey- nard in view, and Tims whipper-in ! After HUNTING THE Fox, but "not much" Mr. Hunt thinks himself equal to any display of bodily vigor, and declares " All manly games I'd play at : golf, and quoks, And cricket, to set all my limbs to rights, And make me conscious, with a due respect, Of muscles one forgets by long neglect But as for prize-lights, with their butchering shows, And crowds of black-legs, I'd have none of those ; I am not bold in other people's blows. Besides, I should reside so far from town, Those human waves could never bear me down Which would endear my solitude, I own. But if a neighbor, fond of his antiques, Tried to renew a bout or two at sticks, I'd do my best to force a handsome laugh Under a ruddy crack from quarter-staff; Nor think I had a right to walk my woods, Coy of a science that was Robin Hood's. 'Tis healthy, and a man's ; and would assist To make me wield a falchion in my fist, Should foes arise who'd rather not be taught, And war against the course of truth-exploring thought." This is a good passage. But what if Bill Gibbons should some day pitch the ring for a fight between the Bush-Cove and Cabbage, with the ropes belonging to the P. C. in Mr. Hunt's Park ? Fifty miles from town is no security against such an invasion ; and surely Mr. Hunt would not countenance the Beaks. AVhat would honest Robin Hood have thought of the expression, " coy of a science ?'' If our Vice would consider the matter for a minute or two, he would be sensible of the extreme ludicrousness of the most remote comparison between himself and Robin Hood. He with his yellow breeches, silk hat, red slippers, and shabby-genteel surtout, picking his steps, within soucd of the dinner-bell, among . few beds of tulips and peony- POMFRET. 353 roses, or selecting a dry spot of his " turf and trees," that he might 'on the grass go rhyme," or scribble a literary Examiner and that immortal Bowman of the Forest ! Tims, personating Bruce at Ban iiockburn in our Tent, was nothing to the King of the Cockneys, with a quarter-staff in his lily hand, enacting the Outlaw of Sherwood ! Such pastimes, however, would be but rare, and never allowed to interfere with our bard's severer studies. For " I'd write, because I could not help it ; read Much more, but nothing to oppress my head ; For heads are very different tilings at ease, And forced to bear huge loads for families. Still I would think of others ; use my pen, As fits a man and lettered citizen, And so discharge my duty to the state ; But as to fame and glory, fame might wait, Nevertheless, I'd write a work in verse, Full of fine dreams and natural characters ; Eastern, perhaps, and gathered from a shore Whence never poet took his world before. To this sweet sphere I would retire at will, To sow it with delight, and shape with skill ; And should it please me, and be roundly done, I'd launch it into light, to sparkle round the sun." Now, high as our opinion is of our laureate's abilities and genius, wo offer to lay six guineas of wirewove gilt to a pound of whitey-brown that not two hundred copies of this Eastern Tale are sold within the two years. Instead of " sparkling round the sun," it will lie a heavy bale in a dark warehouse ; and if printed at his own risk, Mr. Hunt will find himself some twenty or thirty pounds out of pocket. Our Vice-Laureate must therefore give up all idea of " launching it into light," and confine himself to his Odes on our Birthday, and the An- niversary Hymn on the creation of the Magazine. Pomfret, we are told, got into a row with some bishop or other, on account of a suspicious line in his poem, which was thought to re- commend a kept mistress, in preference to a wife. Mr. Hunt is face- tious on this in a note ; but it puzzles us to know, from the following passage, whether he holds the opinion erroneously attached to the " Parson." " In pleasure and in pain, alike I find My face turn tenderly to womankind ; But then they must be truly women, rot Shes by the courtesy of a petticoat, And left without inquiry to their claims, Like haunted houses with their devil's dams. I'd mend the worst of women, if I could, But for a constancy, give me the good ; I do not mean the formal or severe, Much less the sly, who's all for character ; .25 354: NOCTES AMBROSIAN.E. But such as, in all nations and all times, "Would be good creatures, fit for loving rhymes, Kind, candid, simple, yet of sterling sense, And of a golden age "for innocence. Of these my neighbors should hare choice relations , And I (though under certain alterations) I too would bring (though I dislike the name ; The Reverend Mr. Pomfret did the same ; Let its wild flavor pass a line so tame;) A wife, or whatsoever better word The times, grown wiser, might by law afford To the chief friend and partner of my board. The dear, good she, by every habit then, Ties e'en when pleasant, very strong with men ; Though your wise heads first make one's system wrong, And then insist that only theirs last long, Would finish, and make round in every part, The natural harmony of her own wise heart ; And by the loss of something of her right Of being jealous, consummate delight. Godsl how I'd love her morning, noon, and night!" Now, who and what the devil is this madam ? How is she to be named ? Miss, or Mistress ? What alteration does our mysterious friend mean to make on the Marriage Law ? Has he communicated with the Lord Chancellor, my Lord Ellenborough, Dr. Phillimore, and the blacksmith at Gretna-Green ? What is there peculiarly odious, loathsome, and repulsive in the word " wife," that Mr. Hunt should publicly express his dislike of it, " in mild singing clothes ?" What word would he prostitute in its place ? Or what is the matter with the tympanum of his ear, or the core of his heart, that a word sacred to all the rest of his species, should, to him, sound unhallowed ? On he goes. " Fd have my mornings to myself. Ev'n ladies Should not prevent me this, except on May-days Unless we fairly struck our tents awhile, To stroll, like gipsies, round about the isle ; A plan I might be bent on, I confess, Provided colds would give us leave, and dress, And twenty other inconveniences. I d give up even my house to live like them, And have a health in every look and limb, To which our best perceptions must be dim. A gipsy's body, and a poet's mind, Clear blood, quick foot, free spirit, and thought refined. Perpetual airs to breathe, and loves to bind, Such were the last perfection of mankind." It does not seem to us, that the difficulties in the way of putting tins scheme into practice are at all insurmountable. What if some two or three of the party should have a cold, cannot they take with them a few boxes of lozenges, and a score of aperient powders ? In a few days. NOETH ON HUNT. 355 all obstructions will be worked off; ami the Blanket-Tent will murmur beneath the moon with a mellower and more subdued snore. In a Blanket-Tent, we presume, the gipsying party mean to shelter; and do not forget now to provide for yourselves a sufficient stock of horn for the manufactory of ornamental spoons. As to dress, about which Mr. Hunt seems to be so unhappy, let him boldly take with him his yellow breeches in a bandbox ; and every day before dinner, he can put them on most rurally in a ditch by the roadside, exhibiting " The last perfection of mankind, A gipsy's body, and a poet's mind." As to the " twenty other inconveniences," we consider them, what- ever they are, quite imaginary ; and the party will find both luxuries and necessaries in every wood. On returning home from this pretty little wild excursion, Mr. Hunt once more " takes up house ;" and he really gives himself the charac- ter of a very pleasant and amiable landlord. " These mornings, with their work, should earn for me My afternoon's content and liberty. I'd have an early dinner, and a plain, Not tempting much ' to cut and come again ;' A little wine, or not, as health al.ow'd, But for my friends, a stock to make me proud; Bottles of something delicate and rare, Which I should draw, and hold up with an air, And set them on the table, and say, ' There 1' " We were here most anxious to know the dimensions of Mr. Hunt's dining-room, and the prevailing color of its furniture. But we aro only told, " My dining-room should have some shelves of books, If only for their grace and social looks Horace and Plutarch, Plato, and some more, Who knew how to refine the tables' roar, And sprinkled swe'et philosophy between, As meats are reconciled with slips of green. I read infallibly, if left alone ; But after meat, an author may step down To settle a dispute or talk himself : I seem to twitch him now with finger from his shelf." Hitherto our opinions on all the principal questions in taste, man- ners, morals, and religion, have been in unison ; but now Mr. Hunt and we cease to row in the same boat for if we did, we should be pulling away, when he was backing water. What will Odoherty say to hjs Vice, when he reads, " I would not sit in the same room to dine And pass the evening ; much less booze till nine, 35G NOCTES AMBROSIAN^K. And then with a white waistcoat and red face, Rise, with some stupid, mumbling, common-place. And 'join the ladies,' bowing, for some tea, With nauseous looks, half lust, half irony." The last line in this quotation speak? of something beyond ou. ^ v pe- rience or observation but may, nevertheless, show Mr. Hunt's famil- iar knowledge of the human heart. To prevent the possibility of such enormities, he suggests a very notable expedient. " I'd have two rooms, in one of which, as weather Or fancy chose, we all might come together, With liberty for each one nevertheless To wander in and out, and taste the lawns and trees. One of the rooms should face a spot of spots, Such as would please a squirrel with his nuts ; I mean a slope, looking upon a slope, Wood-crown'd, and dell'd with turf, a sylvan cup. Here, when our moods were quietest, we'd praise The scenic shades, and watch the doves and jays." Besides the ordinary and necessary out-houses, such as hen-house, pig-sty, dog-kennel, " and the rest," Mr. Hunt proposes to build a " chapel." This made us wink again ; for nothing makes him so ir- ritable as to be suspected of .Christianity. But list oh ! list if ever you did the dear Cockney love " Greek beauty should be there, and Gothic shade ; And brave as anger, gentle as a maid, The name on whose dear heart my hope's worn cheek was laid. Here, with a more immediate consciousness, Would we feel all that blesses us, and bless ; And lean on one another's heart, and make Sweet resolutions, ever, for love's sake ; And recognise the eternal Good and Fair, Atoms of whose vast active spirit we are, And try by what great yearnings we could force The globe on which we live to take a more harmonious course." But, gentle reader, out with your pocket-handkerchief and if you nave any tears, prepare to shed them now. For, woe is me ! and alack! alack-a-day ! poor dear Mr. Hunt has taken to his bed is going to die is dead. '' And when I died, 'twould please me to be laid In my own ground's most solitary shade ; Not for the gloom, much less to be alone, But solely as a room that still might seem my own. There should my friends come still, as to a place That held me yet, and bring me a kind face: There should they bring me still their griefs and joys, And hear in the swell'd breeze a little answering noise. Had I renown enough, I'd choose to lie, As Hafiz did, bright in the public eye, THE TORIES. 357 With marble grace inclosed, and a green shade, And young and old should read me, and be glad." No no no. It must not shall not be. Buried in your own grounds ! No no no ! It is too far from town and the Wuster- Hea^iy would be perpetually overloaded with pilgrims seeking the shrine where thou wert laid. We insist on your submitting to a pub- lic funeral, and in WESTMINSTER ABBEY. Tickler. After all, we must succumb, Odoherty. North is North. He is our master in all things, and above all in good humor. Odoherty. An admirable lecture indeed. Put round the bottles, and I shall repay Great Christopher with a chant. Omnes. Do do do. Odoherty (sings). THE TORIES A NATIONAL MELODY.* Tis with joy and exultation I look round about this nation, And contemplate the sum of her glories ; You must share in my delight, for whoever is is right Oh ! the prime ones are every where Tories. Start whatever game ye please, you'll be satisfied in these The just pride of the Island reposes Whigs in ambushes may chaff, but the Tories have the laugh When it comes to the counting of noses, Dear boys I When it comes to the counting of noses. Con the gentlemen of Brookes' show a nose, now, like the Duke's, Who squabashed every Marshal of Boney's ; And at last laid Boney's self on yon snug outlandish shelf. Just with three or four rips for his cronies? When the Hollands and the Greys see the garniture of bays Nodding o'er this invincible Tory, Can they give the thing the by-go, by directing ua to Vigo, And parading their Corporal's story ? Poor Bob If Their negotiating Corporal's story ! 3. Tis the same way in the law : in the Chancellor's big paw What are all these Whig-praters but rushes? With one knitting of his brows every whelp of them he cows, With one sneer all their balaam he crushes. * By Dr. Maginn. M. t Sir Robert Wilson. M 358 NOCTES AMBROSIAN^E. They got silkers from the Queen ; but in ragged bombazeen They must all be contented to jaw, now. Hence, the virulence that wags twenty clappers at " Old Bags, 1 * And behind his back calls him " Bashaw" now Poor dears ! They behind his back call him "Bashaw" now! Stout Sir Walter in Belles Lettres has, I'm bold to say, no betters, Even the base Buff-and Blue don't deny this Why ? Because their master, Constable, would be packing off for Dun- stable, The first pup of the pack that durst try this. " You shan't breakfast, dine, nor sup " ties their ugly muzzles up From the venture of such a vagary ; But a sulky undergrowl marks the malice of the foul, And we see and enjoy their quandary, Poor curs I We all see and enjoy their quandary. 6. Thus, in Letters, Law, and Arms, we exhibit peerless charms ; We in Parliament equally triumph When to Canning we but point, Brougham's nose jumpeth out of joint, And Sir Jammy Macgerald* must cry " humph 1" Then we've Peel, too, and wo.'ve Croker, who upraised the " holy poker " O'er thy crockery, lately, Joe Hume! '.Neath our eloquence and wit, Duck-in-thunder-like they sit, And await the completion of doom Poor things! They await the completion of doom. We've the President to paint we've the Wilberforce for Saint And our sculptors are Flaxman and Chantrey 1 On the stage we've Young and Terry ay, and Listen the arch-merry, And great K.tchener chants in our pantry ! Mong the heroes of the ring, we've a Jackson and a Spring We've a Bull to gore all the Whig news-folk Among preachers we've a Phillpotts an O'Doherty 'mong swill-pota And Saul Rothschild to tower o'er the Jews-folk, Dear boys ! Baron Rothschild to tower o'er the Jews-folk. 7. What Review <*an Whig-sty furnish, but is sure to lose its burnish When our Quarterly's splendors we hang up ? Or what Magazine's to mention, of the slenderest pretension, Beside CHRISTOPHER'S princely prime bang-up ? There's but ONE besides in Britain, I consider 'twould be fitting To name after and over that rare man, * Sir James Mackintosh. M. THE TOBIES. 359 Tis the TORY on the throne for his heart is all our own, And 'tis this keeps their elbows so bare, man, Poor souls I Their hearts low, and their breeches so bare, man ! Oh ! with joy and exultation we look round about the nation. And contemplate the sum of her glories. Oh ! how just is our delight! Oh ! whoever is is right, Oh ! the prime ones are every where TORIES ! Look whatever way you please, 'tis in these, and only these, All the pride of the Island reposes We've the corn and they've the chaff, they've the scorn and we've th laugh, They've the nettles and ours are the roses, Dear boya. They've the nettles and we have the roses. No. XII. OCTOBER, 182?. oCENE I. The Chaldee Closet. Enter NORTH and MR. AMBROSE. Mr. Ambrose. I hope, my dear sir, you will not be offended ; but 1 cannot conceal my delight in seeing you lighten my door again, after two months' absence. God biess you, sir, it does my heart good to >ee you so strong, so fresh, so ruddy. I feared this wet autumn might have been too much for you in the country. But Heaven be praised Heaven be praised here you are again, my gracious sir ! What can I do for you ? What will you eat ? What will you drink ? Oh dear ! let me stir the fire ; the poker is too heavy for you. North. Too heavy ! Devil a bit. Why, Ambrose, I have been in training, out at Mr. Hogg's, you know. Zounds, I could fell a buffalo. Well, Ambrose, how goes the world ? Mr. Ambrose. No reason to complain, sir. Oysters never wero better ; and the tap runs clear as amber. Let me hang up your crutch, my dear sir. There now, I am happy. The house looks like itself now. Goodness me, the padding has had a new cover ! But the wood-work has seen service. North. That it has, Ambrose. Why, you rogue, I got a three pronged fork fastened to the end on't, and I used it as a lister. Mr. Ambrose. A lister, sir ? I ask your pardon. North. Ay, a lister. I smacked it more than once itito the side of a salmon ; but the water has been so drumly, that Sandy Ballantyne himself could do little or nothing. Mr. Ambrose. Nothing surprises me now, sir, that you do. We have a pretty pheasant in the larder. Shall I venture to roast him for y<5ur honor ? North. At nine o'clock I expect a few friends ; so add a stub- ble-goose, some kidneys, and hodge-podge; for the night is chilly; and a delicate stomach like mine, Ambrose, requires coaxing. Glen- iivet. Mr. Ambrose. Here, sir, is your accustomed caulker. (NORTH drinks, while MR. AMBROSE keeps looking upon him with a smile of delighted deference, and exit.) North (solus). What paper have we here ? Morning Chronicle, THE MORNING CHRONICLE. 361 Copyright sold for 40,000. A lie.* Let me see ; any litl.e traitor- ous copy of bad verses ? Not one. Tommy Moore and Jack Bowring are busy otherwise. Poor occupation for gentlemen, sneering at Church and King. " That wretched creature, Ballasteros !" Nay, nay; this won't do ; 1 am getting drowsy. (Snores.) Enter MR. AMBROSE. A sound of feet in the lobby. Mr. Ambrose. Mr. Tickler, sir Mr. Mullion and a strange gen- tleman. Beg your pardon, gentlemen ; tread softly, lie SLEEPS. Bonus dormitat Homerus. Strange Gentleman. Wonderful city. Modern Athens indeed. Ne- ver heard a more apt quotation. Tickler (slap-bang on NORTH'S shoulder). Awake, arise, or be for ever fallen ! Mullion, shake him by the collar; or a slight kick on the shins. Awake, Samson; the Philistines are upon thee ! (NORTH yawns; stretches himself; sits erect; stares about him ; rises and bows.) Mullion. Capital subject, faith, for Wilkie. A choice bit. Odds safe us, what a head ! Gie's your haun, my man. Hooly, hooly ; your nieve's like a vice. You deevil, you hae jirted the bluid frae my finger- ends. North. Mr. Tickler, you have not introduced me to the young gen- tleman. Tickler. Mr. Vivian Joyeuse.f North. Young gentleman happy to take you by the hand. I hope you have no objections to smoking. Joyeuse. I have no objections to any thing; but I shall hardly be on an equal footing with you Sous of the Mist. North (to Tickler). Gentlemanly lad. (Re-enter AMBROSE.) contributors. Macaulay, Praed, John Moultne, Chauncey Hare Townshend, 1 ('Editor and publisher,) were among the leading writers in this periodical. M, oG2 NOCTES AMBKOSIAN^E. Hollo! Ambrose? What now? Have you seen a ghot ? or Las the cat run off with the pheasant? If so, I trust he has insured his lives. Mr. Ambrose. Here is a gentleman in the lobby, inquiring for Mr. Tickler. Tickler. Show him in. Hope it is not that cursed consignment of cotton from Manchester raw-twist, and THE ENGLISH OPIUM- EATER ! huzza ! huzza ! (Three hearty cJieers.) Enter THE ENGLISH OPIUM-EATER* and THE ETTRICK SHEPHERD. The Shepherd. Thank ye, lads ; that's me you're cheering. Hand your hauus, ye hallan-shakers, or my drums will split. Sit down, sit down ; my kite's as toom as the Cornal's head. I've had uae four- hours, and only a chack wi' Tarn Grieve, as I came through Peebles. VTou'll hae ordered supper, Mr. North ? North. My dear late English Opium-Eater, this is an unexpected, unhoped for happiness. I thought you had been in Constantinople. The Opium-Eater. You had no reason whatever for any such thought. No doubt I might have been at Constantinople and I wish that I had been but I have not been ; and I am of opinion that you have not been there since we last parted, any more than myself. Have you, sir ? Thf Shepherd. I dinna ken, sir, where you hae been ; but, hech, sirs, yon bit Opium Tract's a desperate interesting confession. It's perfectly dreadfu', yon pouring in upon you o' oriental imagery. But nae, wuuner. Sax thousand draps o' lowdnam ! It's as muckle, I fancy, as a bottle o' whusky. I tried that experiment mysel, after rending the wee wud wicked wark, wi' five hunner draps, and I couped ewer, and continued in ae snore frae Monday night till Friday morn- ing. But I had naething to confess; naething at Jeast tjiat wad gang into words ; for it was a week-lang, dull, dim dwawm o' the mind, with a kind o' soun' bumming in my lugs ; and clouds, clouds, clouds hovering round and round ; and things o' sight, no made for the sight; and an awfu' smell, like the rotten sea ; and a confusion between the right hand and the left ; and events o' auld lang syne, like the tor- ments o' the present hour, wi' naething to mark ony thing by; and doubts o' being quick or dead ; and something rouch, rouch, like the fleece o' a ram, and motion as of everlasting earthquake ; and nae re- * Thomas de Quincey, whose " Confessions of an English Opium Eater," in the London Mag- azine, immediately obtained him high repute as a writer, has done nothing half as good, during his four and thirty years of authorship, as that, his first production. Well learned in ancient and modern tongues, he has written a vast quantity, but when his transcendental and unintelligible metaphysics are weeded out, the actual substance of his works will be in a small space. With the German school of philosophy he is well acquainted, and has endeavored, chiefly by translation, to make his countrymen familiar with it. He has written a great deal chiefly for magazines. Sometimes he is extremely graphic and picturesque, but his great fault is diffuseness, want of concentration, and an inability to discusa a subject without di- gressions apropos to nothing. His writings have been published in America in a collected form; this has not been done in England, where only a selection could obtain a sale. M. WORDSWORTH. 363 racmbrance o' my am Christian name ; and a dismal thought that I was converted into a quadruped cretur, wi' four feet ; and a sair drowth, aye sook, sooking awa' at empty win'; and the lift doukin down to smoor me; and the moon within half a yard o' my nose; but no just like the moon either. O Lord safe us ! I'm a' growing to think o't ; but how could I CONFESS ? for the sounds and the sights were baith shadows ; and whare are the words for expressing the dis- tractions o' the immaterial soul drowning in matter, and wastling wi' unknown power to get ance mair a steady footing on the greensward o' the waking world ? Mullion, Hear till him hear till him. Ma faith, that's equal to the best bit in a' the Confessions. The Shepherd. Haud your tongue, you sumph ; it's nae sic things. Mr. Opi urn-Eater, I used aye to admire you, years sin syne ; and never doubted you wad come out wi' some wark, ae day or ither, that wad gar the Gawpus glower. The Opium-Eater, Gar the Gapus glower ! Pray, who is the Gapus ? The Shepherd. The public, sir; the public is the Gawpus. But what for are you sae metapheesical, man ? There's just nae sense ava in metapheesics ; they're a' clean nonsense. But how's Wuds- worth ? The Opium-Eater. I have not seen him since half-past two o'clock on the 17th of September. As far as I could judge from a transi- tory interview, he was in good health and spirits ; and I, think, fatter than he has been for some years. " Though that's not much." The Shepherd. You lakers are clever chiels ; I'll never deny that ; but you are a conceited, upsetting set, ane and a' o' you. Great ye- gotists ; and Wudsworth the warst o' ye a' ; for he'll alloo nae merit to ony leevin cretur but himsel. He's a triflin cretur in yon Excursion ; there's some bonny spats here and there ; but nae reader can thole aboon a dozen pages o't at a screed, without whumbling ower on his seat. Wudsworth will never be popular. Naebody can get his blank poems aff by heart; they're ower wordy and ower windy, tak my word for't. Shackspear will say as muckle in four lines, as Wuds worth will say in forty. The Opium-Eater. It is a pity that our great living poets cannot be more lavish of their praise to each other.* The Shepherd. Me no lavish o' praise ? I think your friend a great man but North. I wish, my dear Shepherd, that you would follow Mr. * De Quincey has written a (rreat deal about Wordsworth, apparently as his friend and ad- mirer, but it may be noticed that a certain deprecatory tone runs through his description of the man and estimate of the poet. Wordsworth and his friends, I know, were ill-pleased with this, which from early and extended kindnesses tc De Quincey Wordsworth had no reason to expect. M 4 364 NOCTES AMKKOLIANj:. Wordsworth's example, and confine yourself to poetry. Oh ! for an- other Queen's Wake. The Shepherd. I'll no confine myself to poetry for ony man. Neither does he. It's only the other day that he published " A Guide 1o the Lakes," and he might as well have called it a Treatise on Church Music. And then his prose work about Spain* is no half as gude as a leading paragraph in Jamie Ballantyne's Journal. The sense is waur, and sae is the wording and yet sae proud and sae pompous, as gin nane kent about peace and war but himsel, as gin he could fecht a campaign better than Wellington, and negotiate wi' foreign courts like anither Canning. Southey writes prose better than Wudsworth, a thousand and a thousand times. Wha's that glowering at me in the corner ? Wha are ye, my lad ? Mr. Vivian Joyeuze. I am something of a nondescript. The Shepherd. An Englisher an Englisher I've a gleg lug for the deealicks. You're frae the South but nae Cockney. You're ower weel-spoken and ower weel-faured. Are ye married ? Mr. Joyeuse. I fear that I am. I am fresh from Gretna. The Shepherd. Never mind never mind you're a likely laddie and hae a blink in thae eyne o' yours that shows smeddum. What are all the people in England doing just the now ? Mr. Joyeuse. All reading No. II. of Knight's Quarterly Magazine. North. A very pleasant miscellany. Tickler, you have seen thj work. Mr. Joyeuse, your very good health, and success to Knight's Quarterly Magazine.f (General breeze.) The Shepherd. Did ony body ever see siccan a blush ? Before you hae been a contributor for a year, you'll hae lost a' power of redden- ing in the face. You may as weel try then to blush wi' the palm o' your hand. Tickler. Mullion, who knows every thing and every body, brought Mr. Joyeuse to Southside, and I have only to hope that his fair bride will not read him a curtain-lecture to-night, when she hears where he has been, among the madcaps. The Shepherd. Curtain-lecture ! We are a' ower gude contributors to be fashed wi' any daft nonsense o' that sort. Na na but what's this Quarterly Magazine ? I never heard tell o't. North. Why, I will speak for Mr. Joyeuse. It is a gentlemanly miscellany got together by a clan of young scholars, who look upon the world with a cheerful eye, and all its ongoings with a spirit of hopeful kindness. I cannot but envy them their gay juvenile temper, * In 1809, with an intention of urgiitg that the Peninsular War be vigorously carried on, (with a view to checking the vast puissance of Napoleon,) Wordsworth published a prose pa.u- phlet on the relations of Great Britain, Spain, and Portugal to each other. M. t KnighP* Quarterly Magazine died after completing three volumes. It is very difficult tc be obtained now, at any price, in England, and is curious as containing, among yther things as much of Mucaulay's early poetry and prose as would fill a volume. M. KNIGHT'S QUARTERLY. #C5 so free from gall and spite; and am pleasod to the heart's core with their elegant accomplishments. Their egotism is the joyous freedom of exulting life ; and they see all things in a glow of enthusiasm which makes ordinary objects beautiful, and beauty still more beauteous. Do you wish for my advice, my young friend ? Mr. Joyeuse. Upon honor, Sir Christopher, 1 am quite overpowered. Forgive me, when I confess that I had my misgivings on entering your presence. But they are all vanished. Believe me that I value most highly the expression of your good-will and friendly sentiments towards myself and coadjutors. North. Love freedom continue, I ought to say, to love it; and prove your love, by defending all the old sacred institutions of this great land. Keep aloof from all association with base ignorance, and presumption, and imposture. Let all your sentiments be kind, gener- ous and manly, and your opinions will be safe, for the heart and the head are the only members of the Holy Alliance, and woe unto all men when they are not in union. Give us some more of your classical learning more of the sparkling treasures of your scholarship, for in that all our best miscellanies are somewhat deficient, (mine own not excepted,) and you may here lead the way. Are you not Etonians, Wykeamists, Oxonians, and Cantabs, and in the finished grace of manhood ? Don't forget your classics. The Shepherd. Dinna mind a single word that Mr. North says about classics, Mr. Joyous. Gin ye introduce Latin and Greek into your Magazine, you'll clean spoil't. There's naething like a general interest taken in the classics throughout the kintra; and I whiles jalouse that some praise Homer and Horace, and Polydore Virgil, and "the rest," that ken but little about them, and couldua read the crabbed Greek letters afl-hand without stuttering. The Opium- Eater. All the magazines of the day are deficient ; first, in classical literature, secondly, in political economy, and thirdly, in psychology. The Shepherd. Tuts, tuts. Tickler. Mr. Joyeuse, I agree with North in strenuously recom- mending you and your friends to give us classical dissertations, notes, notices, conjectures, imitations, translations, and what not. Confound the Cockneys ! they will be prating on such points and have smug- gled their cursed pronunciation into Olympus. There is County Tims proceeding, step by step, from Robert "Bruce to Jupiter Touans-, and addressing DianAR as familiarly as he would a nymph of Covent- ( Garden, coming to redeem two silver teaspoons.* There was John Keats enacting ApollAR, because he believed that personage to have * The Scotch ind the Irish very contemptuously regard the Cockney mispronunciation of words ending nh a vowel. To say Juliar, Appollar, sofar, Annar-Mariar, and lor, for Julia, Apollo, sofa, Anna-Maria, law, &c., is true Cockney ; but they have net an idoar of the error they thus fall into. On the American stage, where so many English performers are to 306 HOOTES ocen, like himself, an apothecary, and sickening, because the pablic was impatient of his drugs. There is Barry, quite beside himself with the spectacle of Deucalion and Psyche peopling the earth anew by chucking stones over their shoulders in my humble opinion, I con- fess, a most miserable pastime ; and there is King Leigh absolutely enlisting Mars into the Hampstead heavy dragoons, and employing him as his own ORDERLY. The Shepherd. Capital, Mr. Tickler, capital. I aye like you when you are wutty. Gang on let me clap you on the back slash awa at the Cockneys, for they are a squad I scunner at; and oh ! but you hae in troth put them down wi' a vengeance ! Tickler. Ilazlitt is the most loathsome, Hunt the most ludicrous. Pygmalion is so brutified and besotted now, that he walks out into the public street, enters a bookseller's shop, mounts a stool, and repre- sents Priapus in Ludgate Hill.* King Leigh would not do this for the world. From such enormities he is preserved, partly by a sort of not unamiable fastidiousness, but chiefly by a passionate admiration of his yellow breeches, in which he feels himself satisfied with his own divine perfections. I do not dislike Leigh Hunt by any manner of means. By the way, Mr. Joyeuse, there are some good stanzas about him, in Knight for example : They'll say I shan't .believe 'em but they'll say, That Leigh's become what once he most abhorr'd, Has thrown his independence all away. And dubb'd himself toad-eater to a lord ; And though, of course, you'll hit as hard as they, I fear you'll find it difficult to "ward Their poisoned arrows off you'd best come back, Before the Cockney kingdom goes to wrack. The Examiner's grown dull as well as dirty, The Indicator's sick, the Liberal dead I hear its readers were some six-and-thirty ;) But really 'twas too stupid to be read. Tis plain your present partnership has hurt ye ; Poor brother John " looks up, and is not fed," For scarce a soul will purchase, or get through one, E'en of his shilling budgets of Don Juan. North. Do you quote from memory ? I remember a good stanza in Don Juan about John Keats, Hazlitt's Apollo and Apothecary. l> e seen and heard, the Cockneys proper may at once be detected by this abuse of the conso- nant r. 51. * William Ilazlitt, so many years persecuted by Bla-cfacood, was a quiet, reserved student, who seldom mingled in society, was rarely personal in his writings, and had broken down hia nervous system by excessive fondness for strong tea. M. + Of Leigh Hunt's repeated efforts to establish a periodical, which it would pay him to con- tinue, The Indicator was tho best. It was crowded with aflTectations, (or worse, e\rt it would not have been Hunt's,) but there was a freshness running through it which was r-al. Hunt .oved books and nature, and liked tc write on both subjects. M. MAGA. 307 John Keats, who was killed off by one critique, Just as he really promised something great, If not intelligible without Greek, Contrived to talk about the gods of late, Much as they might have been supposed to speak. Poor fellow ! his was an untoward fate ; Tis strange, the mind, that very fiery particle, Should let itself be snuff'd out by an aiticle. Tickler. Exactly so. Now, what a pretty fellow is the publisher of Don Juan i John Keats was the especial friend of himself and brother ; and they both raved like bedlamites against all who were at ?11 sharp upon the poor apothecary. But what will not the base love of filthy lucre ! Alas ! his lordship is driven to degradation. And who but this crew would become parties to a libel on their own best- beloved dead friend ? The Shepherd. There's nae answering questions like these. The puir devil must be dumb. A crabbed discontented creature o' a nee- bor o' ours takes in the Examiner; and I see they are aye yammering and compleening upon you lads here, but canna speak out. They are a' tongue-tied, and can only girn, girn, girn.* Blackwood here, and Black wood there, but nothing made out or specified. Bandy-legged Baldy Dinmont himself allows they are just like a parcel o' weans frighted at their dominie, when Christopher appears, and lose a' power to bar the maister out, when they see the taws ance mair, and begin dinglan in their doups in the very fever o' an imaginary skelping. North. It is all very true, my dear Shepherd. I often think that our weak points have never yet been attacked, for is it not singular that no impression has ever yet been made on- any part of our whole line? Good gracious! only think on our shameful violation of truth! Why, that of itself, if properly exposed, and held out to universal detestation, would materially diminish our sale in this great matter- of-fact age and country. Who, like us, has polluted the sources of 'listory ? The Shepherd. Hush, hush] We dinna ken Mr. Joyous weel aneuch yet to lippen to him. Perhaps he'll betray the sacred con- fidence o' private friendship! Isna that the way they word it? Mr. Joyeuse. I shall make no rash promises. My reply to the Shepherd shall be in a quotation. Byron loquitur. They err'd, as aged men will do; but by And by we'll talk of that ; and if we don't, Twill be because our notion is not high Of politicians, and their double front, * Q-lrn to grin. M. 368 NOCTES AMHROSIANJi. "Who live by lies yet dare not boldly lie: Now, what 1 1 >ve in women is, they won't, Or can't do otherwise, than lie; but do it So well, the very truth seems falsehood to it. And, after all, what is a lie? Tis but The truth in masquerade; and I defy Historians, heroes, lawyers, priests, to put A fact without some leaven of a lie. The very shadow of true truth would shut Up annals, revelations, poesy, And prophecy except it should be dated Some years before the incidents related. North. Well, well, we stand excused like our neighbors, the rest of t'aa human race. But what say you to our gross inconsistency, in raising a mortal one day to the skies, and another pulling him an angel down? In one article you are so saluted in the nose with the bagpipe of our praise, "that you cannot contain, you ninny, for affection;" and at p. 30 you find yourself so vilified, vituperated, tarred and feathered, that you are afraid even to run for it, and would fain hide yourself for a month in a dark closet. Who can defend this? Tickler. I can. The fault is not with us, but it lies in the constitu- tion of human nature. For, to-day, a given man is acute, sensible, enlightened, eloquent, and so forth. We praise and pet him according- ly smooth him down the back along with the hair give him a sop tell him he is a clever dog, and call him Trusty, or Help, or Nep- tune, or Jupiter. The very next day we see the same given man in a totally different predicament, that is to say, utterly senseless, worse than senseless, raving. What do we do then? We either eye him askance, and not wishing to be bitten, and to die of the hydrophobia, make the best of our way home, or to Ambrose's, without saying a word; or we take a sapling and drub him off; or if the worst come to the worst, we shoot him dead upon the spot. Call you this incon- sistency? Not it indeed. Shall I illustrate our conduct by examples? North. There is no occasion for that at present. But what do you Bay to our COARSENESS ? The Shepherd. Ay, ay, Mr. Tickler, what do you say to your coorse- ness? Tickler. In the meantime, James, read that, and you will know what I say about yours. (Gives him a critique on the Three Perils.) But as to the occasional coarsenesses to be found in Maga, I am, from the very bottom (no coarseness in that, I hope) of my heart, sorry to see them, and much sorrier to think that I should myself have written too many of them. They must be disgusting occasionally to delicate minds ; nay, even to minds not delicate. And I verily believe, that to Englishmen in general, this is ovr very greatest fault. With sincere THE SYMPOSIUM. 3G9 sorrow, if not contrition, do I, for one, confess my fault ; and should 7 ever write any more for the Magazine, I hope to keep myself within the limits of decorum. Intense wit will season intense coarseness; but then I am at times very coarse indeed, without being witty at all ; and am convinced, that some passages in my letters, although these are on the whole popular, and deservedly so, have been read by not a few whoic I would be most unwilling to offend, with sentiments of the deepest and most unalloyed disgust. Mr. Joyeuse. Not at all, Mr. Tickler not at all. Believe it not, my dear sir. Coarse you may occasionally be, but you are always Avitty. The Opium-Eater. I have always admired Mr. Tickler's letters, there is such a boundless overflow of rejoicing fancies ; and what if one par- ticular expression, or sentence, even paragraph, be what is called coarse, (of coarseness as a specific, definite, and determinate quality of thought, I have no clear idea,) it is lost, swallowed up, and driven along in the ever-flowing tide ; and he who should be drowned in trying to pick it up, could never, in my opinion, be a fit subject for resuscitation, but would deserve to be scouted not only by the humane, but by the Hu- mane Society. If I were permitted to say freely what are your great- est faults, I should say that Enter MR. AMBROSE, just in the nick of time. Mr. Ambrose. Gentlemen, supper's on the table. North. Mr. Joyeuse, lend me your arm. (Exeunt, followed by the Opium- Eater, Tickler, the Shep- herd, and Mullion?) SCENE \\.Elue Parlor. Tickler. Now for the goose. A ten-pounder. All our geese are pwans. There, saw ye ever a bosom sliced more dexterously ? Off go the legs smack goes the back into shivers so much for the doup. Reach me over the apple sauce. Mullion, give us the old pun upon the sage. Who chooses goose ? Mullion. I'll trouble you for the breast and legs, wi' a squash o' the apple crowdy. Ambrose, bread and potatoes, and a pot of porter. The Opium-Eater. Mr. Ambrose, be so good as to bring me coffae. Shepherd. Coffee ! ! What the deevil are you gaun to do wi' coffee at this time o' night, man ? Wha ever soops upon coffee ? Come here, Mr. Ambrose, tak him ower this trencher o' het kidneys, I never hae touched them. Tickler. Is your pullet tender, Kit ? There be vulgar souls who pre- fer barn-door fowl to pheasants, mutton to venison, and cider to cham- pagne. So there be who prefer corduroy to cassimere breeches and VOL. I.-26 370 NOCTES AMBROSIAU.E. the " Blue and Yellow" to green-gowned Maga.* To such souls, yoiu smooth-shining transparent grape is not so sweet as your small red hairy gooseberry. The brutes cannot dine without potatoes to their fish The Shepherd. What say ye, Mr. Tickler ? wadna you eat potatoes to sawmont ? I thought he had kent better than to place gentility on sic like gruns. At the Duke's, every one did just as he liked best himself, and tell't the flunkies to take their plates to ilka dish that pleased their e'e, without ony restraint. But ye haena been rauckle in hee life these last fifty years. Tickler. My dear Mullion, I beseech you not to draw your knife through your mouth in that most dangerous fashion : you'll never stop till ye cut it from ear to ear. For the sake of our common humanity, use your fork. The Shepherd. Never mind him, Mullion he's speaking havers. I hae used my knife that way ever since I was fed upon flesh, and I never cut my mouth to any serious extent, above a score times in my life. (MR. AMBROSE sets down a silver coffee-pot, and a plate of muffins, before the Opium.- Eater.} The Opium-Eater. I believe, Mr. Hogg, that it has been ascertained by medical men, through an experience of some thousand years, that no eater of hot and heavy suppers ever yet saw his grand climacteric. T do not mention this as any argument against hot and heavy suppers, except to those persons who are desirous of attaining a tolerable old age. You, probably, have made up your mind to die before that pe- riod ; in which case, not to eat hot and heavy suppers, if you like them, would truly be most unreasonable, and not to be expected from a man of your acknowledged intelligence and understanding. I beg now to return your kidneys, with an assurance that I have not touched them, and they still seem to retain a considerable portion of animal heat. The Shepherd. I dinna ken what's the matter wi' me the night, but I'm no half so hungry as I expeckit. Thae muffins look gaen invit- ing ; the coffee comes gurgling out wi' a brown sappy sound. ' I won- der whare Mr. Ambrose got that ream.f A spider might crawl on't I wush, sir, you would gie us a single cup, and a wheen muffins. (The Opium-Eater benignantly complies.} North. Pray, Tickler, what sort of an eater do you suppose Barry Cornwall ? Tickler. The merry-thought of a chick three tea-spoonfuls of psas, the eighth part of a French roll, a sprig of cauliflower, and an almost imperceptible dew of parsley and butter, would, I think, dine the author of " The Deluge." By the way, there is" something surely * Maga, aa published in Edinburgh, Is clothed in a covering which, if not exactly en tit' ing if u> the name of " green-powned Maga," may be said to be the color of sage. M. * Ream. cream. M. ormr. 371 not a little absurd in the notion of a person undertaking the " Flood," whom the slightest shower would drive under a balcony, or into a nackuey-coach. I have no doubt that he carried " The Deluge" in his pocket to Colburn, under an umbrella. North. My dear Tickler, you canuot answer the very simplest ques- tion without running into your usual personalities. What does Byron dine on, think ye ? Tickler. Byron ! Why, bull-beef and pickled salmon, to be sure. What else would he dine on ? I never suspected, at least accused him, of cannibalism. And yet, during the composition of Cain, there is no saying what he may have done. The Shepherd. I'm thinking, sir, when Tarn Muir was penning his Loves of the Angels, that he fed upon calf-foot jeelies, stewed prunes, the dish they ca' curry, and oysters. These last are desperate for that. Tickler. Did you ever hear it said that Mi'. Rogers never eat animal food, nor drank spirits ? North. I have seen him do both. Tickler. Well, you astonish me. I could not otherwise have be- lieved it. Mullion. Never, never, never in all my born days, did I eat such a glorious plateful of kidneys as that which Mr. Opi urn-Eater lately transmitted to me through the hands of our Ambrose. I feel as if I could bump my crown against the ceiling. I hae eaten the apple o' the tree of knowledge. I understand things I never had the least ettling of before. Will ony o' ye enter into an argument? Choose your subject, and I'm your man, in theology, morality, anatomy, chem- istry, history, poetry, and the fine arts. My very language is Eng- lish, whether I will or no, and I am overpowered with a power of words. The Opium-Eater (aside to TICKLER). I fear that Mr. Mullion's excessive animation is owing to a slight mistake of mine. I carelessly allowed a few grains of opium to slide out of my box into the plate of kidneys which Mr. Hogg sent for my delectation ; and ere I could pick them out, Mr. Ambrose wafted away the poisoned dish to Mr. Mullion, at a signal, I presume, understood between the parties. Mullion. I say, Opium-Eater, or Opossum, or what do they call you, did you ever see a unicorn. ? What signifies an Egyptian ibis, or crocodile of the Nile? I have a unicorn at livery just now in Rose Street. Tickler, will you mount ? Noble subject for John Watson.* No man paints a unicorn better. North. John Watson paints every thing well. But (aside to THE SHEPHERD) saw ye ever such extraordinary eyes in a man's head as in Mullion's ? * Now Sir John Watson Gordon, President of the Scottish Academy of the Fine Arts, and DC of the best portrait-painters in Qreat Britain. M. i^ili NOUTES AMBEOSIAX_E. Mullion. Francis Maximus Macnab's Theory of the Universe is tho only sensible book I ever read. Mr. Ambrose Mr. Ambrose bring me the Scotsman. The Shepherd (to Noimi). I have heard there was something jvrang wi' Mull ion at school ; and it's breaking out you see noo. He's gane clean wud. I wus he mayna bite. Tickler. Sell your unicorn to Polito, Mullion. Mullion. Polito ! ay, a glorious collection of wild beasts a perfect House o' Commons ; where each tribe of the beasts has its represen- tative. Mild, majestic, towzy-headed, big-pawed, lean-hurdied lion, saw ye ever Muugo Park ? Tiger, tiger, royal tiger jungle-jumping, son-o'-Sir- Hector- Munro-devouring tiger ! (Rises.) The Shepherd. Whare are you gaun ? Wait an hour or twa, and I'll see ye name. Mullion. I am off to the Pier of Leith. What so beautiful as the sea at midnight ! A glorious constellation art thou, O Great Bear ! Hurra ! Hurra ! (Exit, without his hat.} The Opium- Eater. I must give this case, in a note, to a new edi tiou of my Confessions. If Mr. Mullion did really eat all the kidneys, lie must now have in his stomach that which is about equal to five hundred and seventy drops of laudanum. The Shepherd. Eat a' the kidneys ! That he did, I'll swear. The Opium-Eater. Most probably, Mr. Mullion will fall into a state of utter insensibility in a couple of hours. Convulsions may follow, and then death. The Shepherd. Deevil the fears. Mullion 'ill dee nane. I'll wauger he'll be eating twa eggs to his breakfast the morn, and a shave o' the red rouu' ; lurking t'rae him a' the time wi' een as sharp as darnin' needles, and paunin' in his cup for mair sugar. Tickler. Suppose now that the conversation be made to take a lite- rary or philosophical turn. Mr. North, what is your opinion on the influence of literature on human life ? North. Why, after all, a love or knowledge of literature forms but a small and unimportant part of the character either of man or woman. Have we not all dear friends whom we admit to our most sacred con- fidence, who never take up a printed btx>k (Maga excepted) from year's end to year's end ? How few married women remember, or at least care a straw about, any thing they read in their maidenhood, when in search of husbands ! Take any lady, young, old, or middle- aged, and examine the dear creature with a few cross-questions, and you will not fail to be delighted with her consummate ignorance of all that is written in books. But what of that? Do you likf, love es teem, despise, or hate her, the more or less ? Not a whit* * " And oh, ye lords of ladies intellectual, Inform us truly, have they not heu-pcck'd you. all !" M. PURITY OF SCO1TISH SONG. 373 The Opium Eater. The female mind knows intuitively all that is really worth knowing; and the performance of duty with women is simply an outward manifestation of an inward state agreeable to na- ture ; both alike unconsciously, it may be, existing iu perfect adapta- tion to the peculiar circumstances of life. Books may, or may not. cherish and direct the tendencies of a female character, naturally fine, delicate, pure, and also strong ; but most certain is it that books are not the sine-qua-nou condition of excellence. The woman who never saw a book may be infinitely superior, even in all those matters of which books treat, to the woman who has read, and read intelligently, 10,000 volumes. For one domestic incident shall teach more wisdom than the catastrophes of a hundred novels ; and one single smile from an infant at its mother's breast may make that mother wiser in lovo than even all the philosophy of Plato and the poetry of Wordsworth. The Shepherd. There now I just ca' that sound sense and a true apothegm. And what'll ye say to poets and sic like, that put meretri- cious thoughts into the nature of woman, and dazzle the puir innocent things' eyne till they can see naething like the path of duty, but gang ramstam and camstrairy, aiblins to the right hand and aiblins to the left ? In that case, one might call his brother a fool, without danger of the fire. Tickler. Well spoken, my dear James. I beg your pardon, once more, for having ever called you " a coorse tyke." You have a soul, James ; and that is enough. The Shepherd. We have all sowls, Mr. Tickler, and that some folks will come to know at last. But I am nae dour Calvinistic minister, to deal out damnation on my brethren. All I say is this, that if the low- est shepherd lad in a' Scotland were to compose poems just on pur- pose to seduce lasses, he would be kicked like a foot-ba' frae ae parish to anither. And will gentlemen o' education, wha can read Greek, and hae been at a college-university, do that and be cuddled for't, that would bring a loon like Jock Linton to the stang, the pond, or the pump ? North. You don't mean to tell me that there are no such songs among the old Scottish poetry, Shepherd ! The Shepherd. No half a dizzen in the hail byke and them wrote, I jalouse, by lazy monks, losels, and gaberlunzie-men.* But what I say- is true, that love-verses, composed wi' a wicked spirit o' deceit and corruption, are no rife in ony national poetry ; and, least o' all, in that of our ain Scotland. Men are men and, blessings on them, women are women ; and mony a droll word is said, and droll thing done, among kintra folks. But they a' ettle at a kind o' innocence ; and when they fa', it is the frailty of nature for the maist pail, and there ia * Gat-erlwiaie a mendicant; a fcor guest who cannot pay for his entertainment. M. 37-i NOCTES AMBKOSLLN^. Lruo repentance and reformation. But funny sangs are the warst o poets' sins in lowly life ; and if siccan a chiel as Tarn Muir, bonny bonny writer as he is, were to settle in the Forest, he might hae a gowden fleece, but in faith he would soon be a wether. The Opium-Eater. Amatory poetry is not only the least intellectual, but it is also the least imaginative and the least passionate of poetry. The Shepherd. Hoots, man I dinna understand you sae weel now. What say ye ? The Opium-Eater. In mere amatory poetry that is, verse addressed to ladies in a spirit of complimentary flirtation, there is a necessary prostration or relinquishment of the intellect : the imaginative faculty cannot deal with worthless trifles ; and passion, which cleaves to flesh and blood, dies and grows drowsy on a cold thin diet of words. The Shepherd. That's better expressed ; at least, it suits better the level o' my understanding, and that's the criterion we a' judge by. Now, sir, this I wull say for the Lake folk, that they, ane and a', with- out exceptions, excel in painting she-characters. Wudsworth, Wulson, Soothey, Coalrich, and yourself, sir, (for confound me gin you're no a poet,) make me far mair in love with the " Women-Folk tho Women-Folk," (wait a wee and you'll hear me sing that sang,) than Tarn Muir and a' that crew. Wulson's gotten awfu' proud, they say, since he was made a Professor ; but let him lecture as eloquently's he likes, frae Lammas to Lammas, for fifty year and by the Isle o' Palms aud the City o' the Plague wull he be remembered at last. They're baith fu' o' havers ; but oh ! man, every now and then, he is shublime, and for pawthos he beats a'. Wudsworth wunna alloo that ; but it's true, and I hae pleasure in saying it. The Opium-Eater. If, by pathos, you mean mere human feeling, as it exists unmodified by the imagination, then our opinions respecting the two poets coincide. But in " the thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears," I conceive William Wordsworth unequalled among the sons of song. Mark me I do not say that the other poet has no imagination ; he has a fine and powerful imagination. But The Shepherd. You may say ony thing against him ye like ; but you needna ruze Wudsworth aboon every body, leevin or dead. Ae thing he does excel in the making o' deep and true observations and reflections, that come in unco weel among dull and barren places, and wad serve for mottoes or themes. Wudsworth's likewise a capital dis- courser in a vivy-voce twa-handed crack, awa' frae his ain house. About yon Lakes, he's just perfectly intolerable. Tickler. Come have done with the Lakers. North. I confess criticism is not what it ought to be, not what it might be. But am I a bad critic, sir ? The Opium-Eater. No, sir, you may justly be called a good critic. For, in the first place, you have a reverent, I had almost said a devout IS NORTH A CEITIC? 375 regard for genius, and not only unhesitatingly, but with alacrity and delight, pay it homage. You feel no degradation of self in the exalta- tion of others ; and seem to me never to write such pure English, as when inspired by the divine glow of admiration. No other critic do I know since Aristotle, to compare with you in this great essential ; and feeling that on all grand occasions you are cordial and sincere, I peruse your eloquent expositions, and your fervid strains of thought, not always with entire consentaneity of sentiment, yet, without doubt, always in a state approximating to mental unison ; a state in which I am made conscious of the concord subsisting between the great strings of our hearts, even by the slight discords that I internally hear pro- ceeding with an under tone, among the inferior notes of that mighty and mysterious instrument. The Shepherd. Gude safe us ! that's grand and it's better than grand, it's true. I forgie the lads a' their sins, for sake o' their free, out-spoken, open-handed praise, when they do mean to do a kind thing. They lauch far ower muckle at me in their Magazine ; but I canua deny, I proudly declare't, that none o' a' the critics o' this age hae had sic an insight into my poetical genius, or roused me wi' sic fear- some eloquence. When they eulogize me in that gate, my blood gangs up like spirits o' wine, and I fin' myself a' gruin' wi' a sort o' courageous sense o' power, as if I could do ony thing, write a better poem than the Lay of the Last Minstrel, fecht Bonaparte gin he was leevin, and snap my fingers in the very face o' " The Gude Man." TJie Opium-Eater. But farther ; you, sir, and some of your coadju- tors, possess a fineness of tact and a delicacy of perception, that I in vain look for in the critical compositions of your contemporaries. You see and seize the beautiful evanescences of the poet's soul ; you know the regions and the race of those fair spectral apparitions that come and go before tlie " eye that broods on its own heart" Never can poet lament over your blindness to beauty, your deafness to the sounds singing for ever, loud or low, from the shrine of nature ; sir, you have no common sense t and that in this age is the highest praise that can be bestowed on the unmortal soul of man. The Shepherd. The deevil the like o' that heard I ever since I was born ! The want o' common sense, the greatest praise o' a man's im- mortal sowl ! North. The Opium-Eater is in the right, James ; there is no com- mon sense in your Kilmeny, in Coleridge's Ancient Mariner, in Words- worth's Ruth, in our eloquent friend's " Confessions." Therefore dolts and dullards despise them and will do to the end of time. Tickler. I am of the old school, gentlemen, and lay my veto on the complete exclusion of common sense from a critical journal. But I understand what Opium would be at ; and verily believe that he speaks the truth, when he says, that the wildest creation of genius, and the "TC NOCTE8 AMBROSIAN^E. fairest too, pure poetry in short, and not only pure poetry, but every species of impassioned or imaginative prose, is understood better, deep- er, and more comprehensively, by Maga than Mrs. Roberts The Opium- Eater. Mrs. Roberts ? Pray, who is she ? Tickler. Why, My Grandmother. She edits the British Review.* It was a whim of the proprietors to try a female; so they bought Mother Roberts a pair of spectacles, a black sarsnet gown, and an arm- chair; and made her a howdy. She delivers the contributors, and swathes their bantlings. However, she has been, it is said, rather un- fortunate in her practice ; for although most of the brats to whom she lias lent a helping hand, have come into the world alive, and cried lustily, yet seldom have they survived the ninth day. Poor things! they have -all had Christian burial ; but resurrection-men have grown to a lamentable height ; and several of the ricketty infant charges of Mrs. Roberts have been traced to the dissecting-table. Lord Byron, it, is said, has bottled a brace ; but there is no end of such shocking sto- ries, so push about the toddy, Christopher. North. Pray, is it true, my dear Laudanum, that your " Confes sions" have caused about fifty unintentional suicides ? The Opium-Eater. I should think not. I have read of six only ; and they rested on no solid foundation. Tickler. What if fifty foolish fellows have been buried in conse quence of that delightful little Tractate on Education ? Even then it would be cheap. It only shows the danger that dunces run into, when they imitate men of genius. Tother day, a strong-headed annuitant drank to the King's health, standing upon his head, on the pinnacle of a church spire. He afterwards described his emotions as most t de- lightful. Up goes his nephew (his sister's son) next morning before breakfast ; and in the excess of his loyalty, loses his heading; and at the conclusion of a perpendicular descent of 180 feet by the quadrant, alights upon a farmer's wife going to market with a pig in a poke ; and without any criminal intention, commits one murder and two sui- cides. Was his uncle to blame ? North. The exculpation of the Opium-Eater is complete. A single illustration has smashed the flimsy morality of all idle objectors. And now, my dear friend, that you have fed and flourished fourteen years on opium, will you be persuaded to try a course of arsenic ? The Opium-Eater. I have tried one ; but it did not suit mj consti- * Mr. Roberts, a lawyer, was proprietor and ed'.tor of a quarterly periodical called the British Review; and, when Byron jocosely said, in " Don Juan," I've bribed my grandmamma's Review, the British," Mr. Roberts was so silly as to take the matter seriously, challenge Byron to name how r>nl when the bribe was given, and declare that the whole was a falsehood. Byron responded in 0,1 amusing prose-epistle, signed " Worthy OKtterbuck," and turned the laugh against '\\t appinent. It is difficult to realize the idea of a man being so completely what Hogg wi-'ild call " just a green guse." M. LIFE AT .ALTRIVE. 377 tut' .m either of mind or body. I leave the experiment to younger men. Tickler. Pray, North, tell us how you kissed the rosy hours at Hogg's ? K vi you any rain ? North. I presume Noah would have thought it dry weather ; but we had a little moisture for all that. The lake rose ten feet during the mouth I sorned* upon the Shepherd. First Sunday morning we thought of going to the kirk ; but looking through my snug bed-room window, I saw a hay-rick with Damon and Phoebe sailing down the Yarrow at about seven knots ; so I shouted to them, that if they were going to divine service, they would please apologize for me to the minister. The Shepherd. Lord, man, it was an awfu' spate ! f The stirks and the stots came down the water like straes ; and in maist o' the pools, sheep were thicker than sawmon. I helicked a toop wi' a grilsh-flee, and played him wi' the pirn till I had his head up the Douglas-Burn, but he gied a wallop in the dead-thraws, and brak my tackle. North. On the twentieth day, the waters began to subside ; and then how beautiful the green hill-tops ! The Shepherd. Ay, they were e'en sae. For the flocks on a hundred hills were snaw- white, and the pastures drenched and dighted by tho rains and the winds, till they kithed brichter than ony emerald, and launched up to the bonny blue regions aboon, that had their flocks, too, as quate and as white as the silly sheep o' the earth. Tickler. Did the Shepherd give you good prog, North ? North. Prime choice exquis. Short jigots of five year olds, taper- jc'nted and thick-thighed, furnished, but not overloaded, with brown, crisp fat, deep-red when cut into, and oozing through every pore with the dark richness of natural gravy that overflowed the trencher, with a tempting tincture not to be contemplated with a dry mouth by the most abstemious of the children of men. Tickler. Go on, you dog what else ? Please, Mr. Joyeuse, ring the bell. Mr. Ambrose must bring us a devil. Or what do you say to supping over again ? North. To such mutton, add potatoes, dry even in such a season ; so great is the Shepherd's agricultural skill. Ay, dry and mouldering, at a touch, into the aforesaid gravy, till the potato was lost to the eye in a heap of sanguine hue, but felt on the palate, amalgamated with the mountain mutton into a glorious mixture of animal and vegetable matter; each descending mouthful of which kept regenerating the whole man, and giving assurance of a good old age. Tickler. Why the devil don't Ambrose answer the bell ? North. Then the salmon. In the Forest, fish follows flesh. Tt '3 * Sorned sojourned ; it sometimes means iff iged. M. t Spate a flood. 378 NOCTES AMBROSIAL jE. the shoulder cut. Each flake is clear as a cairngorum clear and turdled sappy most sappy. Tickler. I say, why the devil don't Ambrose answer the bell ? (Rises and pulls the worsted rope till it snaps in twain.) North. But then the moorfowl ! The brown-game ! The delicious mulattoes ! The dear pepper-backs ! Savoriness that might be sucked without satiety by saint and sinner for three quarters of an hour ! Oh ! James, that old cock ! The Shepherd. He was as gude a beast as I ever pree'I ;* but I did nae mair than pree him ; for frae neb to doup did our editor devour him, as he had been a bit snipe he crunched his very banes, Mr. Tickler ; and the very marrow o' the cretur's spine trinkled down his chin frae ilk corner, o' his mouth, and gied him, for the while being, a most terrible and truculent feesionomy. Enter MR. AMBROSE. Tickler. Bring in the cold round, a welsh-rabbit, and a devil. (Exit A.MBROSE.) North. My dear Shepherd, you will be dubbing me of the Gorman- dizing School of Oratory. T/te Shepherd. Oratory ! Gude faith, ye never uttered a syllable till the cloth was drawn. To be sure, you were gran' company at the cheek o' the fire, out ower our toddy. I never heard you mair pleasant and satirical. You seemed to hate every body, and like every body, and abuse every body, and plaud every body ; and yet, through a' your deevilry there ran sic a vein o' unendurable funniness, that, had you been the foul Fiend hirnsel, I maun hae made you welcome to every thing in the house. Watty Bryden has had a stitch in his side ever sin' syne ; and Fahope swears you're the queerest auld tyke that ever girned by an ingle. North. Read that aloud, James. It is an article Ebony put into icy hand this afternoon. Let us hear if it will do for next Number. ON THE GORMANDIZING SCHOOL OF ORATORY. NO. H. LAWLESS. We were informed by an observing Whig friend, who sat within two or three of Mr. Lawless's right or left hand at " The Glasgow Dinner," that never in his life did he see such a knife-and-fork played as by the IRISHMAN.! No sooner had Professor Mylne said grace, * *.'ree to taste. M. t In the autumn of 1822, at what was called " The Great Glasgow Dinner," one of the guests was John Lawless, editor of a paper in Belfast, called The Irishman,. He was a man to make any quantity of speeches, being always ready, with the true copia facundi, and sometimes "HONEST JACK LAWLESS." ST; than Mr. Lawless began munching bread, till the table-cloth before him was all over crumbs. After demolishing his own roll, nothiii^ would satisfy him but to clutch his neighbor's ; in which act of ag- gression, (to our minds, as unjustifiable "as the partition of Poland,) he was resisted by the patriotic and empty-stomached constitutionalist, to whom, by the law of nature and nations, the staff of life die?, beyouc 1 all controversy, belong. At this critical juncture, a waiter clapped down before the IRISHMAN a profound platter of warm soup, and the vermicelli in a moment disappeared from the face of the earth. As good luck would have it, another waiter covered the emptied trencher with one of hotch-potch ; and our informant expresses his conviction, that Mr. Lawless, while gobbling up the mess, retained not the most distant recollection of his own prior performance. A cut of salmon then went the way of all flesh. The fish was instantly pursued, " with- out stop or stay, down the narrow way," by the spawl of a turkey. It appeared to our astonished informant, that the IRISHMAN had swal- lowed the shank ; but in that he had afterwards reason to believe him- self mistaken. True it was, however, that a cold tongue, half as long as his own, but with a different twang, went down the throat of the distinguished stranger from the sister kingdom. A dumpling, like a beetle, followed instanter ; an apple-tart, about eight inches square, barely turned the corner before a custard, and our last fat friend was speedily overtaken by six sprightly syllabubs. At this stage of pro- ceedings, our excellent Whig thought it high time to look after him- self; and hence he was unable to keep an eye on Orator Lawless But he distinctly remembers seeing him at his cheese. Paddy had manifestly exchanged his own plate for one coming down the table with a full cargo ; while ever and anon a gulp of Bell's Beer swept millions of mites into the great receptacle ; and finally, a long de- lighted " pech," from the bottom of his stomach and his soul, told that No. II. of the Gormandizing School of Oratory, would ere long dis- charge a Speech. In this proud state of repletion did Mr. Lawless sit for about three hours, more or less, digesting his dinner and his harangue. The IRISHMAN, like most of his countrymen, has rather a pleasant appear- ance ; and now, with his brow bedewed, his cheeks greased, his eyes starting in his head, and his stomach, God bless him ! tight as a drum, HE AROSE. You might have heard the faintest eructation, so dead rising into something very like eloquence. Lawless had studied the law, but, at the instance of Lord Clare, (the Irish Chancellor,) the benchers of the King's Inn, Dublin, refused to call him to the bar, because he had been the warm friend of Robert Emmett. He entered into business after that, but settled down into the editorship of the very liberal " Irishman." He was an original member of the first Catholic Association, but offended O'Connell in 1825, by opposing what were called "The Wings" concessions from the Irish Catholics, in view of Catholic Emancipation. In 1832 he was defeated as a candidate for Parliament, and died In 1837. He was called " Honest Jack Lawless," from his courage in maintaining his own opinion, believing it to be well-founded, notwithstanding the opposition of O'Connell. M. 38') NOCTES AMUJROSIANJE. was the silence of the Assembly Room. Except that he seemed rather a little pot-bellied as well he might his figure showed to no disad- vantage after that of Mr. Brougham. Yes ! " After Mr. Brougham had concluded, Mr. LAWLESS, proprietor of the Irishman, of Belfast, rose and addressed the Assembly in a most impressive and animated manner." Conscious of his own great acquirements, which our readers have seen were great, the eloquent gormandizer exclaimed : " I hope that I do not presume too much when I say, that I am proprietor of a press which has some claims to independence. I am an IRISHMAN ; and in my native country I have the conducting of A press, which, to the inhabitants of that part of Ireland, is ITS GREATEST GUARDIAN AND CONSOLATION ! !" Here Mr. Lawless put his hand to his stomach, and the room rang with applause. Well might he have said, " I feel it here, gentlemen." Soon afterwards he spoke of "a starving population," having himself, in one single half hour, devoured victuals that would have kept ten cabins in animal food from Mullingar to Michaelmas. But hear the glutton after deglutition and digestion ! " What is the situation of the Irish peasant ? Goaded to madness by the law, he appeals for refuge to public opinion. That opinion is to be found in the press IT is FOUND IN THIS ROOM ; it is found in the proverbial generosity of Englishmen ; it is discoverable in the CHARI- TIES OF THE HUMAN HEART !" So the Irish .peasant is, first of all, to read in Mr. Lawless's Belfast newspaper what is public opinion, as it exists in the Assembly Eoom of Glasgow, and what are the charities of the human heart as they breathe from the well-lined stomach of this most unconscionable gormandizer ; and then he is to set fire to " haggards " far and wide over a blazing country, and murder families, father, mother, and son, in cold blood. But now the dumpling begins to work, and the custard cries within him. " Your illustrious guest has eloquently spoken of the wonders which he has witnessed in his tour through Scotland, this LAND OF CHIVALRY AND BEAUTY; but he has not touched on a much greater wonder than this, nor has it yet been mentioned, namely, an Irishman addressing a Scotch assembly, in defence of the civil and religious freedom of his native land, and that Scotch assembly, not only listening to him with the utmost toleration, but actually cheering him in his progress." Now. Pat, you are indeed an Irishman. How the devil could Harry Brougham call the attention of the company to the miraculous fact cf a speech from Mr. Lawless before you had opened your great bawling mouth ? " It had not yet been mentioned," you say ; and I again ask you, how the devil it could ? But where is the wonder in an Irishman spouting before Scotch Whigs, upon the miseries of his LAWLESS AT PAISLEY. 381 country ? Both O'Connors have done so a hundred times, and many other traitors, now hanged or expatriated. Did you expect to be hissed for your rhodomontade, after praising the "Chivalry and Beauty" of Glasgow ? And was your oratory a " greater wonder than these f Thou art a most ungrammatical- gormandizer, Mr. Lawless, proprietor of the Irishman of Belfast ; and yet so delightedly uncon- sc : ous is the Devourer of Dumplings of the bulls and blunders that have come roaring out of his jaws, that he winds up his sage exordium thus ; and then we have no doubt, after cracking and creaking, lollop- ping and laboring, stood still for a short pace of time, like an ill- appointed jack, that seems to get rusty as the weight is wound up, and then all at once re-commences operations, as if a brownie had got into the wheel, and was making a fool of the machinery. "HEKE, GENTLEMEN, is THE TRIUMPH OF THE PRESS, AND OF REASON AND LIBERALITY." Our gormandizer then goes to Paisley, and by way of a little variety, he dines instead of sups. At Paisley, however, he is a much greater character ; for he is the Brougham of the Saracen Head. The Scotsman tells us, " that the band and the spirits were excellent." So, we know, from the best authority, were the tripes, the black pud- dings, the hot cockles, and the red herrings, a Dutch importation of the 1821. Mr. Lawless then made his expected speech the sum and substance of which was this, in his own words " What more does a radical reformer want than what Professor Mylne of Glasgow, in his own modest, softened phraseology, was pleased to call a substantial reform, at the late splendid dinner to Mr. Brougham ? I have been long an advocate for radical reform, understanding the term radical exactly in the sense of Professor Mylne ; and what then does radical mean ? It means this, that every honest man of sound mind, should have the right to choose his representative. The election should be frequent, and that to .secure the honesty of the constituent, and the in- dependence of the representative, the suffrage should be universal." Such, according to the Scotsman, is the opinion of the Reverend James Mylne, Professor of Moral Philosophy in the University of Glasgow, as expounded by his gormandizing commentator, Mr. Lawless of Bel fast. We can no more. At the request of the President, Mr. Stewart, a friend and compan- ion of Mr. Lawless, addressed the meeting thus : " Mr. Chairman, 1 am a Catholic. Here do I stand before you, with manacles on my hands, and chains on my legs !" He ought to have been recommitted on a new warrant. The Shepherd. I hae read just aneuch o't. It will do for Balaam, and that fule Lawless for the ass. North. James James you are getting personal. 382 NOCTES AJVLBKOSIAN.fi. Tickle. . Why, this red-hot potato supposes itself something above common. Only think of his bouncing up after Brougham, and claim- ing both kindred and equality with that bird of passage. Brougham is not a phoenix, in my opinion ; but as for this braying, bragging, bawling, bullying, brazen-faced blockhead, with his blundering blarney from Belfast, a greater goose never gabbled on a green, nor groaned or, a gridiron, since the first introduction of that absurdest of all fea- tlwred fowls into the island of Great Britain. The Shepherd. Stop Tickler, as weel's me, Mr. North. Tickler. What brought the hound, with his Irish howl, into the Lanarkshire pack ? The Shepherd. What a confusion o' a' metaphors ! First, this Mr, Lawless is a potawto then a guse, syne a jowler and forgie me, I mysel ca'd him an ass. What, what'll he be neist ? Tickler. What think ye, North, of the fellow's insolence in making free with Professor Mylne's name in that way ? North. It would be more interesting and instructive to know what Professor Mylne thinks of it, and also how he relishes it. Horrible degradation, indeed, to a man of genius, learning, and virtue ! But if Pat would drag the Professor into the Saracen's Head, how could the Professor help it ? Tickler. He might have helped it by holding his tongue at the Glasgow dinner, and by being satisfied with saying grace, or, better still, by staying away. But this is not the first time the worthy Pro- fessor has been misrepresented ; and let us believe that Pat's report of his speech is as incorrect as (in days of old) Barbara's note of his prayer, and commentary on his selection of Scriptural paraphrases. The Shepherd. That's a' utter darkness to me some local allusion, I suppose like so many jokes in your Magazine that nobody kens ony thing about, but some three or four o' yoursels ; and yet the Mag- azine is read over all the world ! I sometimes get sae angry at that, that I think you a set o' stupid sumphs thegither. I ken the Eng- lish folk canna thole't. Gin Mr. Joyous werena sleeping, he wad tell you sae. North. I acknowledge the justice of your reproof; and to show you that I mean to profit by it, there goes into the fire a long article of fourteen pages, and a good one too, written by myself on the Glas- gow dinner. Tickler's fragment is enough.* The ShepJterd. Eh ! what a bleeze. It's maist a pityto see the low. Nae doubt, you geed them an awfu' dressing ; but far, far better to prent in its place yon gran article on Wallenstein, (is that right pro- nounced ?) or even that ane on my own Perils ; for I have observed, * This waa an article In Blnckwood for October, 1828, (called "The Glasgow Dinner. A Fragment. By Mr. Tickler,") which undertook to be very severe on Mr. Lawless, as au ora- tor, bat was simply a strong tirade against Catholic Emancipation. M. COLERIDGE. 383 that let tiie Whigs Jo 01 dine, or drivel as they choose, none but them- sells recollect ony thing about it, aboon a week at the farthest ; and therefore that article, now black in the awse, might, for ony novelty the public could hae seen in't, as weel been a description of Alexan- der's or Belshazzar's Feast. North. Who, think ye, Tickler, is to be the new editor of the Quar- terly ? Coleridge ? Tickler. Not so fast. The contest lies, I understand, between him and Odoherty. That is the reason the Adjutant has not been with us to-night. He is up canvassing. The Opium- Eater. Mr. Coleridge is the last man in Europe to con- duct a periodical work. His genius none will dispute ; but I have traced him through German literature, poetry, and philosophy ; and he is, sir, not only a plagiary, but, sir, a thief, a bond fide most un- conscientious thief. I mean no disrespect to a man of surpassing tal- ents. Strip tym of his stolen goods, and you will find good clothes of his own below. Yet, except as a poet, he is not original ; and if he ever become Editor of the Quarterly, (which I repeat is impossible,) then will I examine his pretensions, and show him up as impostor. Of Shakspeare it has been said, in a very good song, that " the thief of all thiefs was a Warwickshire thief;" but Shakspeare stole from Nature, and she forbore to prosecute. Coleridge has stolen from a whole host of his fellow-creatures, most of them poorer than himself; and I pledge myself I am bound over to appear against him.* If he plead to the indictment, he is a dead man if he stand mute, I will press him to death, under three hundred and fifty pound weight of German metaphysics. North. Perhaps it is a young Coleridge a son or a nephew. The Opium-Eater. Perhaps. Mr. North, I was most happy to see you let Odoherty do something like justice to Don Juan. Why will you let political animosities prevent your Magazine being a real reflec- tion of the literature of the Tories ? I never saw poetry criticised ex- cept in Blackwood. The Edinburgh Reviewei-s know nothing about it. The Quarterly are hide-bound. The rest, with the exception of a stray writer or two, are both ignorant and hide-bound. Your criti- cisms on Shelley, in particular, did you immortal honor. Every body of liberality and feeling thanked you. Why not be always thus ? Cut up the Whigs and Whiglings, (God knows they are vulnerable enough,) and the Radicals and Republicans, (God knows they are * One of De Quincey's favorite hobbies was a pretence it may have been a belief that Cole- ridge stole ideas from German authors. So often did he charge the poet with this, (it is re- published in the Boston^edition of his works, brought out with his authority, and to a certain extent under his supervision,) that when Coleridge's family brought out an edition of the Biographia Literaria, a large space of the introduction was dedicated to a defence of the au- thor from the Opium-Eater's accusations. Even if Coleridge had plagiarized, it was like stealing lead, to melt in the crucible of his own thought, and be reproduced as rich barbario gold, pure as from the mines of Ophir. M. 384: NOCTES prostrate enough,) to your soul's contentment. Only don't mix politics with literature ; nor " To party give up what was meant for mankind." North. We have got back to the old story. What, my dear sir, do vou think of our personality ? The Opium-Eater. It is the only charge I have for a long time past heard urged against you. To rae it seems a very trifling matter, and necessarily unconnected with the chief merits or demerits of a work so various and profound as your Magazine. Coarse attacks, if you have any such, and you know better than I do, fail in their effect, ex- cepting upon animals too low for gentlemen's game. As* a mere affair of taste, I should say, "use the dissecting-knife rather than the cleaver, and leave the downright butchering business of literature to those, to whom the perquisite of the offal may be of consequence." As a gene- ral rule, I would say, fight a gentleman with a Damascus blade, tem- pered with perfume ; with a blackguard, why, order your footman to knock him down ; but if you want exercise, and now and then choose to turn to yourself, and drub him in his own way, where is the objec- tion, I should like to know ? This is my personality creed. Tickler. And a clear creed it is, thou most orthodox Opium-Eater. One thing all must acknowledge, that people cannot help judging of personality according to their amiable prejudices. A Whig reads a libel on a Tory, and chuckles over it as a most midriff-moving jeu d'esprit worthy of Moore himself, or Pirie's Chronicle, while the pluckless Tory shows it to his friends, who tell him not to trouble his head ?bout it, as it is evidently a piece of low blackguardism from some hangry hack of the Old Times.* A Tory reads a libel on a Whig, and instantly, in the joy of his heart, gets it off by heart, per- haps sets it to music, and sings it at Ambrose's; while the enraged Whig consults counsel, carries the Tory before a jury of his country, and bites his nails over farthing damages. All this is very perplexing to a simple man like Timothy Tickler. North. In that perplexity I humbly beg leave to join. There is good Mr. Jeffrey, of whom I shall never speak but in terms of the highest respect, who calls Coplestone, the Provost of Oriel, a great, awkward, clumsy barn-door fowl, foolishly flapping himself into an unavailing effort at flight.f He even changes the Provost's sex, makes him a hen, swears he saw him lay an egg, and heard him cackle. There, on the other hand, is good Mr. Jefl'rey, as fierce as a fiend upon me in a court of justice, because Dr. Olinthus Petre thought * Dr. Stoddart, who had edited T7ie Times, commenced The New Times, in .opposition. Th original paper -was then usually named as the Old Times or, as Cobbett loved to call it, " The bloody Old Times." M. t Or. Edward Copleston was elected Bishop of Llandaff in 1827, and died in 1849. M. PERSONALITIES. 385 he perceived some resemblance, either in face, person, dress, habits, or conversation, between a friend of his and a parrot.* What arn I to make of all this? Is a parrot an animal that ranks lower in the scale of creation than a pullet? Again, the same lively and most exceedingly candid and consistent Mr. Jeffrey, calls Mr. Davison, a clergyman, (also once of Oriel,) a rat in a gutter, and all the fellows of the same college, cats, or retromingent creatures, which Mr. Jeffrey will confess is a most incredible accusation, if he will only try to qualify himself for admission into that society. Now, for any thing that I care, Coplestone may be a barn-door fowl, Davison a rat, and Plumev a cat ; but if so you see the consequence logical. Tickler. Clearly, most noble Festus. I have long observed that you never speak of Mr. Jeffrey but in terms of the highest respect. So do I. For example, Baron Lawerwinkel was somewhat severe on the late Professor Playfair, insinuating, or asserting, I forget which, that he had ceased to be true to his early profession of faith.f Up jumps Jeff., and sallies forth cap-a-pie, against the Baron, like Jack the Giant-Killer ; but thinking better about it, he doffs his armor, buckles his enormous two-edged sword, half as long as himself, and betakes himself to railing as bitterly as a northeast wind on a sleepy morning. But soft, who comes here ? Not a grenadier, but Jeff, himself, calling out upon Mr. Southey, " apostate," " renegade," and every other most opprobrious epithet. The Baron eyes him for a while with increased, but calm contempt, and then, like a noble-minded mastiff, lifts him up gently by the nape of the neck, and drops him into a pool, out of which he scrambles with ludicrous alacrity, and shaking his small sides, barks out " Personality." Now, Mr. North, ye may talk in high tenns of respect of whomsoever you think proper to flatter ; but of this priggish person, for this particular piece of priggery, I, Timothy Tickler, have chosen to speak in still higher terms of pity and contempt. The Opium-Eater. I confess that my opinion of Mr. Jeffrey is alto- gether different. I am rather disposed to think with Wordsworth, " that he who feels contempt for any living thing, has faculties that he has never used." Mr. Jeffrey seems to me to be an amiable, in- genious man, without much grasp and of no originality ; petulant * Dr. Olinthus Petre was the name under which (in Blackioood for November, 1820) the late Dr. Maginn charged Professor Leslie, who had criticised the Hebrew language, with thorough ignorance on the subject. In this' article Petre said, " Am I to bow to him because he is an Edinburgh Reviewer ? I question the inspiration of that worthy oracle ; and as to the Pro- fessor's own part in its lucubrations, why, his impudent puffings of himself, and ignorant sneerings at others, have often made me liken Leslie the Reviewer to some enormous over- fed pet of the parrot species, stuck up at a garret-window, and occupied all day with saying, Pretty poll pretty poll,' to itself; ' Foul witch foul witch,' to every passer-by." This coro- nari.-on gave great offence to the Edinburgh Whigs, of whom Leslie was one, and was set forth, 1 believe, in the law-prosecution of Blackwood by Leslie, as having brought him " into hatred, contempt, and ridicule." M. t Baron Lawerwinkel (like Kempferhausen, Mullion, Duller, Tims, and others) wasontoT Blackwood's Messieurs de V Imagination, M. VOL. I. 27 386 NOCTES AMBROSIAN^E. and fretted in his humors, but kind and cordial where he has i liking not surely a bitter enemy, and, I can well believe, an attached friend. His great original error in life lay in his attempting to sway the mind of England : a giant could not do that, nor twenty giants ; no wonder, then, that signal discomfiture befell one single dwaif. If I might be allowed to use an illustration, after the manner of Mr. Tickler, I should say that Mr. Jeffrey, being ambitious of notice, con ceived the scheme of going up in a balloon that the machine was constructed of the proper material, a light silk, and not untastily ornamented ; but that unfortunately there was a deficiency of gas, so that the ylobus aerostations was never sufficiently inflated. The cords, however, were cut, and the enterprising voyager began to ascend. By and by, getting entangled somehow or other by the foot, there he hung with his head downwards, while the balloon cleared the roofa of the houses, but could make no approximation to the lowest strata of clouds. Finally, Mr. Jeffrey got released, and he and his balloon came to the earth almost together, and without any serious hurt to the aeronaut, but the vehicle was irremediably injured, and in all probability will never more be able to reach the chimney-top. The Shepherd. Odd's my life ! that simile's just unco like Tickler, wi' a great tinge o' eloquence ; for, oh dear me ! after all, a weel-edu- cated Southron says things in a tosh and complete manner, that we modern and northern Athenians canna come up to for our lives. There's nae denying that. The Opium-Eater. With regard to these ludicrous, and, as many persons may not unwarrantably call them, impertinent and insolent expressions of Mr. Jeffrey, more especially impertinent and insolent when applied to persons in the same rank of life as his own, and in- deed somewhat superior, at least more dignified and authoritative, I should say, that most probably Mr. Jeffrey employed them without any very culpable feeling towards the parties, and merely in compli- ance with the spirit of that vituperative system of contention with our real or supposed opponents, which he did not originate, but which, nevertheless, he, by his popular abilities^ and by the favor which tho Edinburgh Review found with a great portion of the reading public, helped to make of very great prevalence in the periodical literature of this country. A high-minded, and high-facultied man, could scarcely, I think, have written as Mr. Jeffrey has too often done ; but I do not wish rashly to assert that he might not, remembering the vulgar virulence of Milton not truly to his equals or superiors, for wheio were they, but to his inferiors indubitably, and without refer- ence to individuals, to all that portion of mankind, or womankind, concerning whom he wrote in a controversial or polemical spirit. North. Wisely spoken. But Mr. Tickler chiefly despises him, as it seems to me, for the hypocritical claim he advances to perfect freedom THE \VH1G8. 3S7 from this failing, and for the bitterness with which he arraigns that conduct in others of which he is himself more frequently guilty than any other man of eminence in this age. The Opium-Eater. That is another matter, and therein he is with- out defence. The Shepherd. Weel, then, Mr. Tickler, is party-spirit, think ye, likely to rin, like a great heavy sea, ower domestic intercourse in fami- lies, this winter ? Tickler. Why, James, I neither know nor care. My friends, for upwards of half a century, have been TORIES; and what is the sour sulky face of a captious Whig to me, any more than his portrait in a picture falling from which, I turn in calm contempt, or deep disgust, to the well-pleased countenance of some staunch lover of his country and his King? The Shepherd. But isna it a desperate pity to see mony clever chiels keepit apart just for mere difference o' opinion about the government ? Tickler. Pray, where are all these "clever chiels?" Take away a^out four Whigs, and are not all the rest confounded dogs ? I can- not really be too grateful to party-spirit for keeping such gentry in their own circles. I hope, James, you are not going to join the PLUCKLESS ? North. I am more Whiggish than you, Tickler. What can be more amiable than the present zeal of the Whigs in the cause of Spain ? They are doing all they can to wipe off the foul stain of their truckling to Bonaparte when he stormed Spain. They are crying shame upon their former selves ; and why not believe them to be sin- cere ? Tickler. Hypocrites. North. Then, have they not subscribed four thousand, three hun- dred, sixteen shillings, and eight-pence three farthings, for the Greeks ? Tickler. Scrubs. North. Did they not wish us to go to war, like a brave people ? Tickler. Fools. North. Did they not call Bonaparte the guardian of the l ; berties of the world ? Tickler. Liars. North. Who but they would change our criminal law ? Tickler. Knaves. North. Are they not for a " substantial reform ?" Tickler. Radicals. North. Are they not adverse to the prosecution of the foes to Christianity ? Tickler. Deists. Notth. Would they not fain overlook blasphemy? Tickler. Atheists. 383 NOCTES AMBROSIAX.E. North. Are they not friends to the liberty of the Press ? Tickler. Libellers. The Shepherd. You stopt me a while since, and I cry stop till baith o 1 you now. I kenna wha's the worst. I hue nae notion o' sic despe- rate bitterness in politics. What can Mr. Joyous be thinking a' this while ? Mr. Vivian, you haena spoken muckle the nicht, but the little you did say was to the purpose. I dinna like folk ower furthy a' at ance. Besides, you are sadly knocked up, man. That Gretna Green is a sad business. North (laying his gold repeater on the table}. Twelve o'clock. Old Chronos smites clearly, and with a silver sound. My dear Vivian, we keep early hours, and your young bride will be in tears. I understand your silence, and know your thoughts. You are at Barry's Hotel. None better. Allow me to accompany you to the steps. Give me your arm, my good boy. (Exeunt omnes NORTH leaning on JOYEUSE and the OPIUM- EATER, Mr. AMBROSE bustling before with the biasing branches, and TICKLER, arm-in-arm with the SHEPHERD, towering in the rear.) No. XU1. MAEOH, 1824. Dram. Pers. NORTH and TICKLER. Tickler. Proper humbug ! but don't rail, North, for I remember his father North. I rail ! I like him better than most of them, for he has pluck he has the old lad's blood in him. I was only wondering that he should again commit himself in such a way ; but there really is no accounting for Whig conduct. Tickler. Pooh ! pooh ! I was joking, man ; he is in private a pleasant fellow enough, but in public, he is one of the hacks of the party, and of course obliged to get through such things. Yet it would be no harm, I think, if he remembered to what set of men, and what system, his people owed their honors ; and, perhaps, although he is in the service of the Duke of Devonshire,* such a recollection might make him less rabid on the followers of Pitt. North. Hang it ! such a cheese-paring is not worth wasting a sen tence about. Keep moving with the Review. The price of tea I think we're that length Tickler. I leave to the swallowers of Souchong, Campoi, Hyson, Hymskin, Bohea, Congou, Twankay, and Gunpowder. This will be a favorite article with the Cockneys with the leafy that is, tea- leafy bards, who Te redeunte die, te decedente canebant. It is nothing to us. North. Nothing whatever. I leave it and the discussion on the Holy Alliance, to be swallowed by those whom it is meant for. Tickler. The Jeremiade over the Italian traitors is vastly interesting; then it appears, that, after all, only one of the ruffians expiated his crimes on the gallows. North. God bless the Jacobins, and their child and champion. They would have made cleaver work of it. It is, however, quite comfortable to hear Old Bailey lawyers, like Denman and Brougham, talking of * It would appear from this that the delinquent was James Abercromby, the Duke's stew- ard, and now Lord Dumferline, with a pension of 4000 a year for his own life, and that of bis son, as ex-Speaker of the House of Commons ! M. 390 NOCTES AMBKOSIANJE. the savageness of the Austrian Government, when they must know, that in a population double our own, the executions are as one to five, if not in a still smaller proportion. A Vienna review, if there be such a thing, could finely retort that in our faces. With respect Odoherty (outside). The club-room only Mr. North and Mr. Tickler. Waiter (outside). That's all, sir. There's a trifle of a balance, sir, against you since Odoherty (speaks as he enters). Pshaw don't bother me, man, with your balances. Do you think, when the interests of the world are going * > be debated Gentlemen, a pair, am right glad to see you. North. Sit down. Tickler. And here's a clean glass. North. What will ye drink ? Tickler. Champagne, Chateau-Margot, Glenlivet, or Jamaica ? North. We have got to the hot stuff this hour. Will you try our jug, or make for yourself? Tickler. I recommend the jug. Odoherty. I am quite agreeable wherever I go. Here's a bumper to your health, and that of all good men and true. Tickler, llow long are you arrived 1 Odolterty. Half an hour. Knew I'd meet somebody here. Where are the rest 1 North. Hogg is at work with his epic poem. Odoherty. His He-pig poem you mean. Queen Hynde, if I mistake not. A great affair, I suppose. Tickler. Quite grand. The Shepherd has been reading it all over the hills and far away. There are fine bits in it, I assure you. I heard the exordium ; it is splendid. Odoherty. Do you remember any of it ? Tickler. No not enough at least to spout. Odoherty. I met Jemmy Ballantyne at York we supped together and he told me he had heard it was to open like the ^Eueid or Madoc. North. The JEneid or Madoc ! Just as you would say Blackwood's Magazine and the London ! How do you mean ? Odoherty. Why, with a recapitulation of all his works as thus I quote from memory Tickler (aside). Or imagination. Odoherty. Come listen to my lay, for I am he Who wrote Kilmeny's wild and wondrous song, Likewise the famous Essay upon Sheep, And Mador of the Moor ; and then, unlike BYRON. 39 1 Those men who fling their pearls before the llog, I, Hogg, did fling my Perils before men.* North. A pun barbarous. Odoherty. But still more famous for the glorious work, Which I, 'neath mask of oriental sage, Wrote and concocted in auspicious hour THE CIIALDEE MANUSCRIPT which, with a voioe Of thundering sound, fulmined o'er Edinburgh, Shook the old Calton from its granite base, Made Arthur's Seat toss up its lion head, And snuff the wind in wonder ; while around, Eastward and westward, northward, southward, all The ungodly, struck with awe and ominous dread Of the great ruin thence impending o'er them, Fled frighted, leaving house and home behind, In shameful rout or, grovelling prostrate, showed Their nether parts uncomely Tickler. I think you may stop there. North. In all conscience : I shall not permit Hogg to be quizzed He is too good a fellow, and I am sure his poem will do him credit. Sing a song, Ensign, for you seem to be in fine voice. Odoherty (sings). Would you woo a young virgin of fifteen years, You must tickle her fancy with Sweets and Dears, Ever toying and playing, and sweetly, sweetly, Sing a love-sonnet and charm her ears Wittily, prettily, talk her down Phrase her and praise her, fair or brown Soothe her and smooth her, And tease her and please her, Ah ! touch but her fancy, and all's your own. I must have a glass ere I take the next stanza. Would you woo a stout widow of forty years Tickler. Come, stop, stop, Odorherty, none of your stuff. Any lite- rary news in London town ? Odoherty. Not much. Lord Byron, you are aware, has turned Turk. North. Greek, you mean.f Odoherty. Ay, ay Greek, I meant. I always confound these Koundrels together. But the Greeks in London have met with a sad defeat. That affair of Thurtell's was a bore. * Two of Hogg's prose fictions were " Three Perils of Man," and " Three Perils of Woman." They are amusfn^ enough, but often improbable in incident, and sometimes too broad in lan- guage and sentiment. M. t Hymn quitted Genoa the Proud in August, 1S23, for Greece, where he died on the 1'Jtb April, 1824. M. 392 NOC1KS AMBROSIAN^E. Tickler. Curse the ruffian the name ought not to be mentioned in decent society. But Weare was just as great a blackguard. Odoherty. Yes ; and Sam Rogers says that that is the only excuse for Thurtell. He did right, said Sam, to cut such an acquaintance. North. Why, Sam is turning quite a Joe Miller. Have you seen the old gentleman lately ? Odoherty. About a fortnight ago Tom Moore was with him. North. I thought Tom was rusticating. Odoherty. Yes, in general ; but he is now in town, bringing out a new number of his Melodies. North. Is it good ? Odoherty. Nobody except Power and bis coterie has seen it yet ;* but I understand it is very excellent. It will be out in a couple of months. There is one song in it to the tune of the Boyne Water ; the great Orangemen tune, you know, which is making them nervous. North. Why? Odoherty. Because conciliation curse the five syllables, as Sir Abraham King says is carried to such a happy pitch in Ireland, that tune, toast, statue, picture, displeasing to the majority, are denounced as abominable. North. A pretty one-sided kind of conciliation with a vengeance but I am sorry Moore is so squeamish. Are the words Orange? Odoherty. Not at all ; some stuff about an angel or nymph rising out of the Boyne, and singing a song to pacify the natives.f Tickler. And even this must not be published, for fear of offending the delicate ears of SheilinagigJ and Co. ! Is not Moore doing a jeu d'esprit about your Irish Rugantino, Captain Rock ? * James Power, a music-publisher in London, employed Moore, from 1306 to 183(5, (when a une i jioore s corresponaence wun rower, auring imriy years, amounieu 10 over 12'JO letters, all of which were submitted by Power's daughters to Lord John Russell, editor of Moore's Memoir, Journal, and Correspondence. Russell selected only 57 out of these, which ):e printed with omissions. The whole collection was then sold by public auction in London, e e, n , y yrons eers o . a, gal ground that his executors alone had a publishing properly in his correspondence,) and the appearance of the book in England was prevented. However, it has been published in this country, with an explanatory introduction by Crofton Croker, and unhappily shows that us no man is a hero to his culft-dc-clMmbre, so a poet may be very " small deer" in his rem- tioris with his publisher. M. t The melody represents vanquished Erin weeping beside the river Boyne, into which Dis- cord drops his quiver, each year to return, recover, and disperse them through Ireland; and, when she asks the power of Good when this is to end, the Demon replies, " Never !" It W;is a puerile fancy feebly elaborated into song. M J There is an Irish air called Sheillnagig. Once upon a time, in Dublin, when one of tin preat Irish orators, who had accidentally injured one of his le s , was proceeding lliriMiKii tackville street in a Batf chair, a bystander, (via. Mr. J. G. Maeurr, the musical composer HAJJI BABA. 393 Qdokerty. Yes but he is nervous there too.* Longman &, Co. are cautious folk, and it is submitted to Denman, or some other doer, who will bedevil it, as he did the Fables for the Holy Alliance. Tickler. Well, Longman has published, however, one little book this year, that bears no marks of the knife have you seen that clever thing the " Stranger's Grave," I mean ? Odoherty. I have to be sure, so has all the world but still upon the whole it is not to be denied, that the Divan Kave not half the spunk of their rival who rules in the west of the Empire of Cock- aigne. North. Joannes de Moravia? Have you seen him, Odoherty, in your travels ? Odoherty. Of course of course a most excellent fellow that said bibliopole is. North. That I kuow. How does he carry on the war ? Odoherty. In the old style. Morier and his people are mad with you for your blackguard review of Hajji Baba.f North. My blackguard review, Mr. Adjutant it was you. who wrote it. Odoherty. If Well, that beats Banagher.J Tickler. No matter who wrote it it was a very fair quiz better than any thing in the novel though really I must say that I consider Hajji rather an amusing book after all. North. N'importe. Has Murray much on hand ? Odoherty. A good deal. Croker is going to publish with him the Suffolk Papers. North. Heavy, I suppose. now of New- York,) being asked by a friend from the country, who wag that little man with tte large flashing eyes, musically answered, "Sheil-in-a-gig." M. * Moore's Memoirs of Captain Rock appeared in April, 1824 was much abused by Slack- wood and other Tory publications, but was very successful. M. t The Adventures of Hajji Baba of Ispahan ; a novel, in three volumes," was published in London, by Murray, in 1824. It was reviewed in Jilackwood for January, 1825. Oddly enough, Ebony, which had attributed " Anastasius " to Lord Byron, who did not write it. made another blunder in this review, by affiliating " Hajji Baba " upon Thomas Hope, the actual author of " Anastasius," and said, " The work is not merely as regards matter, interest, taste, and choice of subjects, three hundred per cent, at least under the mark of Anastasius, but the style ia never forcible and eloquent ; and, in many places, to say the truth, it is miserably bad." Again, " Of Anastasius, one would say that it seemed to have been written by some mighty hand, from a store, full, almost to overflowing, with rich and curious material : of Hajji Baba, that some imitator, of very little comparative force indeed, had picked up the remnant of the rifled note-book, and brought it to market in the best shape that he was able." It appeared, after all, that James Morier was the author. In early life he had travelled extensively in the East, and related his adventures in " Travels through Persia, Armenia, Asia Minor to Con- stantinople." In 1810, at the age of thirty, he was appointed British Envoy to the Court of Persia, where he remained until 1816, and soon after his return, published " A second Journey throuzh Persia." This was followed by Hajji Baba, which (despite the Slackwood criticism) is very clever. In a second series, he brought his hero a sort of Persian picaroon, on the Gil Bias model into England. In Zohrab the Hostage, and other works of prose fiction, Mr. Morier showed great knowledge of Eastern life, manners and customs, and considerable skill in embodying it. He died in 1848, aged sixty-eight. M. 1 There is an Irish saying, " That beats Banagher, and Bansgher beats the world." M. $ Join. Wilson Crc/K-er edited the Letters of Lord Hervey, the Suffolk Papers, and Lord Bervey's Memoirs of the Reign of George the Second. M. 394 NOCTES AMBEO8IAJS45. Odoherty. No the contrary at least ?o I am told. Croker could not do any thing heavy. North. He is fond of editing old papers Lord Hertford has placed the Conway Papers in his hands ; and I perceive, by a note in the new edition of D'Israeli's Curiosities of Literature, that the old gentle- man Tickler. An excellent judge. North. Few better declares that they will throw much light on our, that is, English* history. Odoherty. Apropos of Croker a namesake of his, and a country- man of mine, a fine lad, one of my chiefest chums, indeed, has brought out with Murray a quarto on the South of Ireland. North. I have not read it -just looked over the prints very- famous lithography, by my honor. Odoherty. Oh, the Nicholsons are prime fists at that kind of work. The book has sold in great .style, which is no bad thing for a lump of a quarto.* How does Maga get on I North. As usual. Are our brother periodicals in statu quo ? Odoherty. Yes, heavy and harmless. Whittaker is going to start a new bang-up, to be called the Universal a most comprehensive title. North. It is, I understand, a second Avatar of the New Edinburgh, with some fresh hands. God send it a good deliverance ! Tickler. Was the Universal the name originally proposed 1 Odoherty. No the Bimensial as it is to come out every two months. Rogers knocked up that name by a pun. "Ay," said he, u you may cry Bi-men-sial, but the question is, whether Men-shall- buy V A bad pun, in my opinion.f North. O hideous (aside) it is his own. Tickler. Abominable (aside) evidently his. We'll spoil his fishing for compliments. Odoherty. Why, look ye, gentlemen, I do not think it quite so bad as that I can tell you I have heard worse at this table. North. Ha ! ha ! ha ! Caught, Ensign 1 Empty your glass, man, and don't think to impose on us. Odoherty. Well, so be it. Any thing for a quiet life. Here I have * This " lump of a quarto " was called " Researches in the South of Ireland, illustrative of the Scenery, Architectural Remains, and the Manners and Superstitions of the Peasantry. By T. Crofton CrcVer." It was reviewed more than once, with high commendation, in Black- wood, who said ifronsists in [of?] dissertations on the civil and ecclesiastical history; the scenery ; the architectural antiquities ; the romantic superstitions ; and the literature of Ire- land, connected by a slender thread of personal adventure, in a tour through the southern counties, in company with Miss Nicholson and Mr. Alfred Nicholson, whose illustrations in- crease the beauty and value of the work." The lady here mentioned afterwards became Mrs. Croker. M. t It is foolish to give a book a name which can be punned upon. Thus, even before No. 1 was published, a projected and since popular periodical was spoken of as Bentley's Miss-sell- any. That, by the way, was originally announced as "The Wits' Miscellany," but finally ap- peared as "Bentley's Miscellany." Hood said, when he beard that the first name wrs abandoned, as too ambitious, " That may be a reason for not catl.ug it the Wits' Miscellany but, my dear Bcntley, why rim into Vie opposite extreme f" M. SIIEE ; S ALASCO. 395 brought you Mr. Gleig's pamphlet about the Missionaries. I assure you tew things have imide more noise about town. 'Tis really a pithy performance devilish well written too a rising sprig of the Mitre Uii.-, sirs. Tickler. Just the thing I was wanting to see I saw it quoted in the John Bull. Such authors are much wanted now-a-days. Any thin^j elso, Ensign ? Odoherty. Why, here's the new comedy, too spick and span. North. " Pride shall have a Fall." Whose is it ? Odoherty. Moore's Luttrell's Croly's Jones's Rogers's Soane's. All of which names I saw in print.* Tickler. But which is right ? Odoherty. Never dispute with the newspapers all must be right. 1 only think it proper to mention that Soane is given on the authority of the Old Times. Tickler. A lie, of course. Nothing more is needed to prove that it is not Soane. How did it run ? Odoherty. Like Lord Powerscourt's waterfall full and fast. It is the most successful comedy since John Bull. North. I shall read it in the morning. It seems to be elegantly written. Odoherty. Very elegantly indeed and the music is beautiful. Al- together it acts right well. You have heard of Shoe's Alasco ? North. How George Colman suppressed it ? Odoherty. Yes, and on what grounds ? North. Something political, I understand ; but I do not know exactly what. Odoherty. Nor I very exactly ; but it is understood that the hero (to be enacted by Charles Kemble) was a Liberal. Tickler. That is, a ruffian " nulla virtute redemptus? Odoherty. Exactly, and Shee, with no other meaning than to write dramatically for Shee is a worthy and right-minded fellowf gave this lad all the roaring, rumfustian, upper gallery, clap-trap, hullabal- loos about liberty, emancipation, the cause of freedom all over the aon ; ana paruy 10 i reueriCK i aies s exiraorumary persuuaviuu 01 cornel wwui i/aruiiue. .11. t Martin Archer Shee, who was at once Poet and Painter a few degrees above mediocrity In both professions published a Tragedy called "Alasco," with a preface, in which be severely rated George Colmau, the licenser of plays, for having prohibited its performance without the omission of certain lines which he (the licenser) thought unfit for publication. On the death of Sir Thomas Lawrence, it was intimated that George IV. would be pleased if the Royal Academy would elect Sir David Wilkie to fill the Presidential chair, thus vacated. The Acade- micians, indignant at the idea of being dictated to, almost unanimously elected Shee, who was knighted, as a matter of course, on the occasion. The Presidents, since the formation of the Royal Academy, in TCS, have bean Sir Joshua Reynolds, Mr. West, Sir Thomas Laurence, Sir Martin Shee, and Sir Charl* ^astlake. This last was electe'd on Shee'e death, in 1S50. M. 396 NOCTES AMBKOSIAN^S. world, and the other fine things, on which the Breeches-maker's Review North. "What review, do you say ? Odoherty. The Westminster but as Place, the snip of Charing- Cross, is the great authority in it, it is never called any thing in London but the Breeches-maker's Review. However, as I was saying, the effective part, acted by the effective actor, was this sort of gun- powder stuff, while the antagonizing principle, as his holiness Bishop Coleridge would say, was a fellow as humdrum as one of the pluck- less Prosers of the Modern Athens, and to be performed by one Cooper or Carpenter. So the Benthamism had it all to itself and in English too, a language which Jerry, you know, does not understand; and therefore cannot corrupt the nation by scribbling in it. Tickler. If sucli be the case, Colman was quite right ; though, after all, the country is so well disposed, that it might have been left to the decision of the House. North. Which would, I think, in the present temper of the people, have damned any thing Jacobinical or verging thereto. Odoherty. Ay, ay, countryman O'Connell, with grief, is obliged to confess, that " Toryism is triumphant." Fill your glasses Here's long may it so continue ! North and Tickler. Amen, amen. Odoherty. Any news in Edinburgh ? North. Order up supper immediately. News in Edinburgh ! Bless your heart, when had we news here ? Tickler. The old affair Listen and you shall hear how it has gone, goeth, and shall go at Ambrose's. (Sings.) 1. Ye sons of the platter give ear, Venter habet aures, they say, The praise of good eating to hear, You'll never be out of the way ; But with knives sharp as razors, and stomachs as keen, Stand ready to cut through the fat and the lean- Through the fat and the lean- Sit ready to cut through the fat and the lean. 2. The science of eating is old, Its antiquity no man can doubt : Though Adam was squeamish, we're told, Eve soon found a dainty bit out ; Then with knives sharp as razors and stomachs as keen, Our passage let's cut through the fat and the lean Ac. the dead. The Shepherd. In the pure air o' the kintra, beuks hae an immortal life. I hae nae great leebrary feck o't consists o' twenty volumes o' my ain writing ; but, oh ! man, it is sweet to sit down, on a calm sim- mer evening, on a bit knowe, by the lochside, and let ane's mind gang daundering awa down the pages o' some volume o' genius, creating thochts alang with the author, till, at last, you dinna weel ken whilk o' you made the beuk. That's just the way I aften read your Maga- zine, till I could believe that I hae written every article Noctes and a'. North. How did the Border games go off this Spring Meeting, Shepherd ? The Shepherd. The loupin' was gude, and the rinnin' was better, and the ba' was best. Oh, man ! that ye had but been there ! North. What were the prizes ? The Shepherd. Bunnets. Blue bunnets I hae ane o' them in my pouch, that wasna gien awa'. There try it on. (The Shepherd puts the blue bonnet on Mr. North's head.) North. I have seen the day, James, when I could have leaped any man in Ettrick. 406 NOCTES AMBROSIANJE. The Shepherd. A' but ane. The Flying Tailor would hae been your match ony day. But there's no denying you used to take awfu' spangs. Crude safe us, on springy meadow gruri, rather on the decline, you were a verra grasshopper. But, wae's me the crutches ? EJieu ! fugaces, Posthume, Posthume, labuntur anni f North. Why, even yet, James, if it were not for this infernal gout here, I could leap any man living, at hop, step, and jump The Shepherd. Hech, sirs ! hech, sirs ! but the human mind's a strange thing, after a' ! Here's you, Mr. North, the cleverest man, I'll say't to your face, noo extant, a scholar and a feelosopher, vauntin' o' your loupin' ! That's a great weakness. You should be thinkin' o' ither things, Mr. North. But a' you grit men are perfet fules either in ae thing or anither. North. Come, James, my dear Hogg, draw your chair a little closer. We are a set of strange devils, I acknowledge, we human beings. The Shepherd. Only luk at the maist celebrated o' us. There's Byron, braggin' o' his soomin', just like yourself o' your loupin'. He informs us that he sworn through the streets of Venice, that are a' canals, you ken nae very decent proceeding and keepit ploutering on the drumly waves for four hours and a half, like a wild guse, diving, too, I'se warrant, wi' his tail, and treading water, and lying on the back o' him wha' the deevil cares ? North. His lordship was, after all, but a sorry Leander ? The Shepherd. You may say that. To have been like Lander, he should hae sworn the Strechts in a storm, and in black midnight, and a' by himself, without boats and gondolas to pick him up gin he tuk the cramp, and had a bonnie lass to dicht him dry, and been drown'd at last but that he'll never be. North. You are too satirical, Hogg. The Shepherd And there's Tammas Mure braggin' after anither fashion o' his exploits amang the lasses. O man, dinna you think it rather contemptible, to sit in a cotch wi' a bonnie thochtless lassie, for twa three lang stages, anc 1 then publish a sang about it ?* I ance heard a gran' leddie frae London lauching till I thocht she would hae split her sides, at Thomas Little, as she ca'd him. I could scarcely fadom her but ye ken't by her face what she was thinking, and it was a' quite right a severe reproof. Not th. Mr, Coleridge ? Is he in the habit, Hogg, of making the Public the confidants of his personal accomplishments ? The Shepherd. I canna weel tell, for deevil the like o' sic books * The Shepherd must here allude to ane of Moore's songs, (not included in the collective edition of his poety,) which commences thus : " Sweet Fanny of Timmol ! when first I came in lo the deal little carriage in which you were hurled, I thought to myself, if it were not a sin, I could teach you the prettiest tb'ngs in the world." M. COLERIDGE. 407 as his did I ever see wi' ray cen beneath the blessed licht. I'm no speakin ? o' his Poems I'll aye roose them but the Freen* and the Lay Sermons are aneuch to drive ane to distraction. What's logic; \ North. Upon my honor as a gentleman, I do not know ; if I did, I would tell you with the greatest pleasure. The Shepherd. Weel, weel, Coleridge is aye accusing folk o' hae- ing nae logic. The want o' a' things is owing to the want o' logic, it seems. Noo, Mr. North, gin logic be soun' reasoning, and I jalouse as much, he has less o't himself than ony body I ken, for he never sticks to the point twa pages ; and to tell you the truth, I aye feel as I were fuddled after perusing Coleridge. Then he's aye speaking o' himsel but what he says I can never mak out. Let him stick to his poetry, for, oh ! man, he's an unyerthly writer, and gies Superstition sae beautifu' a countenance, that she wiles folk on wi' her, like so many bairns, into the flowery but fearfu' wildernesses, where sleeping and wanking seem a' ane thing, and the very soul within us wonders what has become o' the every-day warld, and asks hersel what crea- tion is this that wavers and glimmers, and keeps up a bonnie wild musical sough, like that o' swarming bees, spring-startled birds, and the voice of a hundred streams, some wimpling awa' ower the Elysian meadows, and ithers roaring at a distance frae the clefts o' mount Abora. But is't true that they hae made him the Bishop of Barba- does ? North. No, he is only Dean of Highgate.f I long for his " Wan- derings of Cain," about to be published by Taylor and Hessey.J That house has given us some excellent things of late. They are spirited publishers. But why did not Coleridge speak to Blackwood ? I sup- pose he could not tell if he were questioned. The Shepherd. In my opinion, sir, the bishops o' the Wast Indies should be blacks. North. Prudence, James, prudence, we are alone, to be sure, but the affairs of the West Indies The Shepherd. The bishops o' the Wast Indies should be blacks. Naebody '11 ever mak me think itherwise. Mr. Wilberforce, and Mr. Macaulay, and Mr. Brougham, and a' the ither saints, have tell't us * " The Friend " was a weekly periodical, edited by Coleridge, which lived through six months or so, and died from the irregularity of its issue, and the very unbusiness-like manner in which it was carried on. This was one of the many failures of S. T. C., (fs rt or, he liked to write it,) and, De Quincey informs us, was chiefly made so by Coleridge's use of opium. M. t It was one of Coleridge's nephews who was made Bishop of Barbadoes, which he ceased to be, by resignation, in 1842. Coleridge resided at Uighgate, near London. M. % " The Wanderings of Cain," a poem in prose, originally appeared in an Annual, I believe, and is now included in the Works of Coleridge. M. $ William Wilberforce, long the leader of the Anti-Slavery party in the House of Commons He died in 1S33. His son, Dr. Samuel Wilberforce, is now Bishop of Oxford. Zachary Macaulay was for forty years associated with Wilberforce in the Britisl Anti-Slavery movement. He died in 1838, and was the father of Thomas Babington MacauUy, the poet, orator, critic, SLil historian. M. 408 NOCTES AMBROSIAL Jfi. that blacks are equal to whites ; and gin that be true, make bishops o' them what for no ? North. James, you are a consistent poet, philosopher, and philan- thropist. Pray, how would you like to marry a black woman ? How would Mr. Wilbeiforce like it 1 The Shepherd. I canna answer for Mr. Wilbeiforce ; but as for my- self, I scunner at the bare idea. North. Why, a black skin, thick lips, grizzly hair, long heels, and convex shins what can be more delightful ? But to be serious, James, do you think there is no difference between black and white ? The Shepherd. You're drawing me into an argument about the West Indies, and the neegars. I ken naething about it. I hate slavery as an abstract idea but it's a necessary evil, and I canna be- lieve a' thae stories about cruelty. There's nae fun or amusement in whipping women to death and as for a skelp or twa, what's the harm ? Hand me ower the rum and the sugar, sir. North. What would Buxton the Brewer say, if he heard such sen- timents from the author of Kilmeny ? But what were we talking about a little while ago? The Shepherd. Never ask me siccan a like question. Ye ken weel aneuch that I never remember a single thing that passes in conversa- tion. But may I ask gin you're comin' out to the fishing this season ? North. Apropos. Look here, James. What think you of these flies ? Phin's, of course. Keep them a little farther off your nose, James, for they are a dozen of devils, these black heckles". You ob serve, dark yellow body black half heckle, and wings of the mal lard, a beautiful brown gut like gossamer, and the killing Kirby. The Shepherd. I'll just put them into my pouch. But, first, let me see how they look sooming. (Draws out a fly and trails it slowly along the punch in his tumbler, which he holds up to the argand lamp a present to Mr. Ambrose from Barry Cornwall.) O man ! that's the naturallest thing ever I saw in a' my born days. I ken whare there's a muckle trout lying at this very moment, below the root o' an auld birk, wi' his great snout up the stream, drawing in slugs and ither animalculas, into his vortex, and no caring a whisk o' his tail for flees ; but you'se hae this in the tongue o' you, my braw fellow, before May-day. He'll sook't in saftly, saftly, without showing mair than the lip o' him, and then I'll streck him, and down the pool he'll gaung, snoring like a whale, as gin he were descending in a' his power to the bottomless pit, and then up wi' a loup o' lightning to the verra lift, and in again into the water wi' a squash and a plunge, like a man gaun in to the douking, and then out ae pool into anil her, like a kelpie gaun a-coorting, through alang the furds and shallows, and ettling wi' a' his might at the waterfa,' opposite Fahope's house, HOOKING HOGG. Luk at him ! luk at him ! there he glides like a sunbeam strong ind steady, as I give him the butt, and thirty yards o' the pirn nae stane to stumble, and nae tree to fankle bonuie green hills shelving clown to my ain Yarrow the sun lukin' out upon James Hogg, frae behint a cloud, and a breeze frae St. Mary's Loch chanting a song o' tri- umph down the vale, just as I land him on the gowany edge of that grassy-bedded bay, Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky. North. Shade of Isaac Walton ! The Shepherd. I'm desperate thirsty here's your health. Oh, Lord ! What's this ? what's this ? I've swallowed the flee ! North (starting up in consternation). Oh, Lord ! What's this ? what's this ? I've trodden on a spike, and it has gone up to my knee-pan ! my toe ! my toe ! But, James James shut not your mouth swallow not your swallow or you are a dead man. There steady steady I have hold of the gut, and I devoutly trust that the hook is sticking in your tongue or palate. It cannot, must not be in your stomach, James. Oh ! The Shepherd. Oh ! for Liston,* wi' his instruments! North. Hush hush I see the brown wings. Enter AMBROSE. Ambrose. Here, here is a silver spoon I am all in a fluster. O dear, Mr. North, Avill this do to keep dear Mr. Hogg's mouth open while you are North. It is the soup-ladle, sir. But a sudden thought strikes me. Here is my gold ring. I shall let it down the line, and it will disen- tangle the hook. Don't swallow my crest, my dear Shepherd. There all's right the black Ifeckle is free, and my dear poet none the worse. The Shepherd (coughing out Mr. North's gold ring}. That verra flee shall grip the muckle trout. Mr. Ambrose, quick, countermand Liston. (Mr. Ambrose vanishes.) I'm a' in a poor o' sweat. Do you hear my heart beating ? North. Mrs. Phin's tackle is so excellent that I felt confident in the result. Bad gut, and you were a dead man. But let us resume the thread of our discourse. The Shepherd. I have a sore throat, nnd it will not be weel till we soop. Tak my arm, and we'se gang into the banqueting-room. Hush there's a clampering in the trance. It's the rush o' critics frae the * Robert Liston, then of Edinburgh, and the best operator there. He removed to London, where h. established the highest character as a surgeon, aud died in 1847. M. 4:10 NOCTES AMBROSIANJS. pit o' the theatre. They're coming for porter and let's wait till they're a' in the tap-room, or ither holes. In five minutes you'll hear nae ither word than " Vandenhoff," " Vandenhoff."* North. The shower is over, let us go ; and never, James, would old Christopher North desire to lean for support on the arm of a better num. The Shepherd. I believe you noo for I ken when you're serious and when you're jokin', and that's mair than every ane can say. North. Forgive, James, the testy humors of a gouty old man. I am your friend. The Shepherd. I ken that fu' brawly. Do you hear the sound o' that fizzing in the pan ? Let's to our wark. ' But, North, say nothing about the story of the flee in that wicked Magazine. North. Mum's the word. Allans. SCENE II. The Banqueting-Room. Enter MR. NORTH, leaning on the arm of the SIJETHERD, and MR. AMBROSE. MR. TICKLER in the shade. North. By the palate of Apicius ! What a board of oysters ! Ha. Tickler ! Friend of my soul, this goblet sip, how art thou ? Tickler. Stewed foul from the theatre. Ah, ha ! Hogg your paw, James. 'The Shepherd. How's a' wi' ye ? how's a' wi' ye, Maister Tick- ler ? Oh, man, I wish I had been wi' you. I'm desperate fond o' the- atricals, and Vandenhoff 's a gran' chiel a capital actor. Tickler. So I hear. But the Vespers of Palermo won't do at all at all ; so I shan't criticise any actor or actress that strutted and spouted to-night. Mrs. Hemans, I am told, is beautiful and she has a fine feeling about many things. I love Mrs. Hemans ; but if Mrs. He- mans loves me, she will write no more tragedies.f My dear Chris- topher, fair play's a jewel a few oysters, if you please. North. These " whiskered Paudours," as Campbell calls them in his Pleasures of Hope, are inimitable. The Shepherd. God safe us a', I never saw a man afore noo pui- * John Vandenhoff, the actor, was an especial favorite with Edinburgh play-goers. They cherished a fond recollection of John Kemble, something of whose style of acting Vandeahofl had adopted. M. t " The Vespers of Palermo," beautiful as a dramatic poem, made slight impression o'J the public mind either in London or Edinburgh. At the latter place it was brought out on thf psnppial flnlifi?aHnn nf Sir \V:iltfr S/ntt whn was lirirpd tn tjUA an in":0r*at. in it hv .Tnann " THE BAILUK'S GUSE." 411 ting sax muckle oysters in the mouth o' liiin a' at aince, but you->-el, Mr. North. Tickler. Pray, North, what wearisome and persevering idiot kt.pt mumbling monthly and crying quarterly about Mrs. Ilemans, in the ' Baillie's Guse," for four years on end ? The Shepherd. The Baillie's Guse ! wha's he that ? Is't ane o' the periodicals you're misca'ing ? Tickler. Yes Waugh's Old New Edinburgh Review.* It was called so, for the first time, by the Shepherd himself and most apt- ly as it waddled, flapped, and gabbled, out of the worthy Baillie's shop, through among the stand of coaches in Hunter Square. North. It was indeed a bright idea to fight a gander against a game-cock Pool versus Jeffrey ! The Shepherd. Weel, do you ken, I thought it a gay gude review but it was unco late in noticing warks. The contributors, I jalouse, werena very original-minded lads, and lay back till they heard the general sugh. But when they did pronounce, I thought them, for the maist part, gude grammarians. Tickler. The ninny I allude to, who must be a phrenologist, could utter not a syllable but " Hemans, Hemans, Hemans !" The lady must have been disgusted. Shepherd. No she, indeed. What leddy was ever disgusted even by the flattery o' a fule ? Tickler. They were a base as well as a stupid pack. Low mean animosities peeped out in every page, and with the exception of our most excellent friend R., and two or three others, the contributors were scarcely fit to compile an obituary. The editor himself is a weak well- meaning creature, and when the Baillie's Guse breathed her last, he naturally became Taggar to the Phrenological Journal. North. I should be extremely sorry to think that my friend Waugh, who is a well-informed gentlemanly man, has lost money in this ill- judged business. The Guse, as you call it, occasionally quacked, as if half afraid, half angry, at poor innocent Maga, but I never gave the animal a single kick. Was its keep expensive to the Baillie ? Tickler. Too much so, I fear. These tenth-raters are greedy dogs. Do you not remember Tims ? North. Alas ! poor Tims ! I had forgot his importunities. But I thought I saw his Silliness in Taylor and Hessey, a month or two ago " a pen-and-ink sketch of the late trial at Hertford." Tickler. Yes yes yes Tims on Thurtell ! ! By the way, what a most ludicrous thing it would have been had Thurtell assassinated Tims ! Think of Tims's face when he found Jack was serious. What small, mean, paltry, contemptible Cockney shrieks would he have emitted ! 'Pon my honor, had Jack bond -fide Thurtellized Tims, it * The New Edinburgh Review- was published by Waugh & Innes. M. 412 NOCTES AMRItOSIAN.E. would have l>cen productive of the woi-st consequence to the human race ; it would have thrown such an air of absurdity over inurJer.* Shepherd. What ! lias that bit Cockney cretur Tims, that I fright- ened sae in the Tent at Braemar, when he offered to sing "Scots \\lia hae wi' Wallace bled," been writing about ae man murdering auitiicr ? lie wasna blate. Tickler. Yes, he has and his account is a curiosity. Tims thinks, that the most appalling circumstance attending the said murder \v;is. that every thing was "in clusters." "It is strange," quoth he, "that, solitary as the place was, and desperate as was the murder" the actors the witnesses all but the poor helpless solitary thing that perished, " were in clusters !" Shepherd. Hout, tout, Tims ! Tickler. " The murderers were in clusters," he continues " the farmer that heard the pistol had his wife, and child, and nurse with him ; there were two laborers at work in the lane, on the morning after the butcher-work ; there was a merry party at the cottage on the very night, singing and supping, while Weare's mangled carcass was lying darkening in its gore in the neighboring field ; there were hosts of publicans and hostlers witnesses of the gang's progress on their blood-journey ; and the gigs, pistols, even the very knives ran in pairs." Quod Tims, in Taylor and Hessey,f for Feb. 1, 1824 for here is the page, with which I now light my pipe. By all that is miraculous, these candles are in clusters. Shepherd. That's ae way, indeed, o' makin' murder ridiculous. But it's a lee. The gigs did not run in clusters. Only think o' ca'ing ae gig passing anither on the road, a cluster o' gigs ! Neither did the actors run in clusters, for Thurtell was by himself when he did the job. And then the pistols ! Did he never hear before o' a pair o' pistols ? Tims, if you were here, I wad thraw your nose for you, ye conceited prig. Tickler (reading). " It seems as though it were fated, that William Weare should be the only solitary object on that desperate night, when he clung to life in agony and blood, and was at last struck out of existence as a tiling, single, valueless, and vile." He was, it seems, a bachelor. Shejrfierd. The only solitary object on that desperate night. Was nae shepherd walking by himsel' on the mountains? But what kind o' a Magazine can that o' Taylor and Hessey be, to take sic writers H? Tims? I hope they don't run in clusters. North. Give me a bit of the sheet for my cigar (Heaven defend * The murder of William Weare, a London gambler, by Thurtell. ''obert, and Hunt :--this last was brother of the lute Henry Hunt, a dramatic vocalist in New-York, and fathci of Mrs. or Madame Thilloii, the operatic uinger. M. t The London, TIIUBTELL& DEFENCE. me, the cigars run iu clusters) is extinct. Let me see. Hear Tims on ThurtelTs speech. " The solid, slow, and appalling tone in which he rang out these last words, can never be imagined by those who were not auditors of it. lie had worked himself up into a great actor and his eye, for the first time during the trial, became alive and eloquent; his attitude was expressive in the extreme. He clung to every separate word with an earnestness which we cannot describe, as though every syllable had the power to buoy up his sinking lite and that these were the last sounds that were ever to be sent unto the ear of those who were to decree his doom ! " The final word, God ! was thrown up with an almost gigantic energy and he stood, after its utterance,* with his arm extended, his face protruded, and his chest dilated, as if the spell of the sound were yet upon him, and as though he dared not move, lest he should dis- turb the still-echoing appeal ! He then drew his hands slowly back pressed them firmly to his breast, and sat down, half exhausted, in the dock." Omnes. Ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! North (gravely). " When he first commenced his defence, he spoke in a steady, artificial manner, after the style of Forum orators but as he warmed in the subject, and felt his ground with the jury, he became more unaffectedly earnest, and naturally solemn and his mention of his mother's love, and his father's piety, drew the tear up to his eye almost to falling. He paused and, though pressed by the judge to rest, to sit down, to desist, he stood up, resolute against his feelings, and finally, with one fast gulp, swallowed down his tears ! He wrestled with grief, and threw it ! When speaking of Barber Beaumont, the tiger indeed came over him, and his very voice seemed to escape out of his keeping. There was such a savage vehemence in his whole look and manner, as quite to awe his hearers. With an unfortunate quotation from a play, in which he long had acted too bitterly, The Revenge ! he soothed his maddened heart to quietness, and again resumed his defence, and for a few minutes in a doubly artificial seren- ity. The tone in winch he wished that he had died in battle reminded me of Kean 's farewell to the pomp of war in Othello and the follow- ing consequence of such a death was as grandly delivered by Thurtell as it 'was possible to be: 'Then my father and my family, though they would have mourned my loss, would have blessed my name ; and shame would not have rolled its burning fires over my memory !' "f * To strengthen his protestatiom of innocence, Thurtell closed with the common adjuration, ft So help me God." M. t In 1824, when Thurtell was tried for the murder of We:ire, the law expressly forbade that arsons accused of such a crime should he allowed the privilege, extended to prisoners in all ot' ur cases, (except in courts-martial,) of being heard by counsel. The law has since beeu i. k^re'd. It wa,s stated and believed that Thurtell's defence, which he read remarkably wull, 414: NOCTES AMBRO8IAN.E. Omnes. Ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! Shepherd. Weel, I dinna ken the time I hae laucht so muckle. I'm sair exhausted. Gie's a drink. The English folk gaed clean mad a'thegither about that fallow. I never could see ony thing very remarkable about his cutting Weare's craig. It was a puir murder yon. There was that deevil-incarnate Gordon, that murdered the bit eilly callant o' a pedlar on Eskdale muir, the ither year, and nae sic stigh about it in a' the papers. Tickler. I forget it. The particulars ? Shepherd. Oh ! man, it was a cruel deed. He foregathered wi' the laddie and his bit pack, trudging by himsel' among the hills, frae liousie to housie ; and he keepit company wi' him for twa hail days, ane o' them the Sabbath. Nae doubt he talked, and lauched, and joked wi' the puir creature, wha was a bonnie boy they say, but little better in his intellects than an innocent, only hafflins wise ; and when the ane stapped, the ither stapped, and they eat bread thegither by different ingles, and sleepit twa nichts in ae bed. In a lanesome place he tuk the callant and murdered him wi' the iron-heel o' ane of his great wooden clogs. The savage-tramper smashed in the skull wi' its vellow hair, didna wait to shut the bonnie blue een, put the pack over Jus ain braid shouthers, and then, demented as he was, gaed into the verra next town as a packman, and selt to the lassies the bits o' rib- bons, and pencils, and thumbles, and sic like, o' the murdered laddie. I saw him hanged. I gaed into Dumfries on purpose. I wanted them no to put ony night-cap over the ugly face o' him, that we might a' see his last girns, and am only sorry that I didna see him dissecked. Tickler. A set of amusing articles might, I think, be occasionally compiled from the recorded trials of our best British murderers. We are certainly a blood-thirsty people ; and the scaffold has been mounted, in this country, by many first-rate criminals. North. One meets with the most puzzling malefactors, who perpe- trate atrocious deeds upon such recondite principles, that they elude the scrutiny of the most perspicacious philosophers. Butlers, on good wages and easy work, rise out of comfortable warm beds, and cut the throats of their masters quite unaccountably ; well-educated gentlemen of a thousand a-year, magistrates for the county, and prasses of public meetings for the redress of grievances, throw their wives over bridges and into coal-pits; pretty blue-eyed young maidens poison whole families with a mess of pottage ; matrons of threescore strangle their sleeping partners with a worsted garter; a decent well-dressed person meets you on your evening stroll, and after knocking out your brains with a bludgeon, pursues his journey ; if you are an old bachelor, or a single lady advanced in years, you may depend upon being found wa^ written for him by Charles Phillips, the Irish Barrister. The article in the London Jfaga- tine was attributed to Uazlitt. M. MURDER-DREAMS. some moiaing stretched along your lobby with your eyes starting out of their sockets, the blue marks of finger-nails indented into your wizen, and your os frontis driven in upon your brain, apparently by the blow of a sledge-hammer. Shepherd. Haud your tongues, haud your tongues, ye twa ; you're making me a' grew. Tickler. A beautiful variety of disposition and genius serves to divest of sameness the simple act of slaughter ; and the benevolent reader never tires of details, in which knives, daggers, pistols, cluta, mallets, hatchets, and apothecaries' phials, "dance through all the mazes of rhetorical confusion." Nothing can be " more refreshing" than a few hours' sleep after the perusal of a bloody murder. Your dreams are such as Coleridge might envy. Clubs batter out your brains ; your throat is filled with mud, as three strong Irishmen (their accent betrays them) tread you down seven fathoms into a quagmire. "You had better lie quiet, sir," quoth Levi Hyams, a. Jew, while he applies a pig-butcher's knife to the jugular vein; you start up like Priam at the dead of night, and an old hag of a house- keeper chops your nose off with a cleaver. " Oh ! what a pain me- thinks it is to die," as a jolly young waterman flings you out of his wherry into the Thames, immediately below Wellington Bridge. " Spare spare my life, and take all I have !" has no effect upon two men in crape, who bury you, half dead, in a ditch. " He still breathes," growls a square thickset ruffian in a fustian jacket, as he gives you the coup-de-grace with a hedge-stake. Shepherd. Haud your tongues, I say. You'll turn my stomach at this dish o' tripe. The moniplies and the lady's hood are just excel- lent. Change the conversation. Tickler. You are huddled out of a garret-window by a gang of thieves, and feel yourself impaled on the area spikes ; or the scoun- drels have set the house on fire, that none may know they have mur- dered you ; you are gagged with a floor-brush till your mouth yawns like a barn-door, yet told, if you open your lips, you are a dead man ; outlandish devils put you into a hot oven ; you try to escape from the murderer of the Marrs, and other households, through a common-sewer, and all egress is denied by a catacomb of cats, and the offal of twenty dissecting-tables. " Hoize him into the boiler, and be d d to him ;" and no sooner said than done. " Leave off haggling at his windpipe, Jack, and scoop out his bloody eyes." North. How do you like to be buried in quick-lime in your back- court, heaving all the while like a mole-hill, above your gashes, and j'Uddled with 'y ur slow-oozing heart-blood ? Is it a luxury to be pressed down, neck and crop, scarified like bacon, into a barrel below a water-spout, among dirty towels, sheets, and other napery, to be dis- covered, six weeks hence, in a state of putrefaction ? What thin.* you 410 NOCTES AMBROSIAN^E. of being fairly cut up like a swine, and pickled, salted, barrelled, and shipped off at fourpence a pound, for the use of a blockading squadron ? Or would you rather, in the shape of haras, circumnavigate the globe with Ook or Vancouver ? Dreams dreams dreams. " I wake in horror, and dare sleep no more !" Tickler. Could it have been believed, that in a country where mur- der has thus been carried to so high a pitch of cultivation, its fourteen million inhabitants would have been set agape and aghast by such a pitiful knave as Jack Thurtell killing and bagging one single miserable sharper ? Monstrous ! North. There was Sarah Malcolm, a sprightly young charwoman of the Temple, that murdered, with her own hand, a whole household. Few spinsters, we think, have been known to murder three of their own sex ; and Sarah Malcolm must ever stand in the first class of assassins. She had no accomplice ; her own hand held down the gray heads of the poor old women, and strangled them with unflinching fingers. As for the young girl of seventeen, she cut her throat from ear to ear, while she was perhaps dreaming of her sweetheart. She silenced all the breath in the house, and shut by the dead bodies ; went about her ordinary business, as sprightly as ever, and lighted a young Irish gen- tleman's fire at the usual hour. Tickler. What an admirable wife would Sarah have made for Wil- liams, who, some dozen years ago, began work as if he purposed to murder the metropolis ! Sarah was sprightly and diligent, good-look- ing, and fond of admiration. Williams was called " Gentleman Wil- liams," so genteel and amiable a creature did he seem to be ; so ] ant with his chit-chat, and vein of trifling, peculiar to himself, and not to be imitated. He was very fond of children, used to dandle them with a truly parental air, and pat their curled heads, with the hand that cut an infant's throat in the cradle. Williams was a sober man, and no brawler; he preferred quiet conversation with the landlady and her family within the bar, to the brutal mirth of the tavern-boxes; and young and old were alike delighted with the suavity of his smile. But in his white great-coat with his maul or his ripping-chisei or his small ivory-handled penknife, at dead of night, stealing upon a doomed family, with long silent strides, while, at the first glare of his eyes, the victims shrieked aloud, "We are all murdered !" Williams was then a different being indeed, and in all his glory. His rippinix- chisel struck to the heart the person whose cheek he had patted two hours before. Charles Martell himself, or the Pounder, smashed not a skull like Williams, the Midnight Malletteer and tidily and tenderly did he cover up the baby with its cradle-clothes, when he knew that he had pierced its gullet like a quill. He never allowed such trifles long to ruffle his temper. In the evening, he was seen smiling as be- fore ; even more gentle and insinuating than usual ; more tenderly did SURGEON COXOLLY. 417 he kiss little Tommy, as he prepared to toddle to his crib ; and, as he touched the bosom of the bar-maid in pleasing violence, he thought how at one blow the blood would spout from her heart.* Xorth. Sarah Malcolm was just the person to have been his bride. What a honey-moon ! How sort would have been their pillow, as they recited a past, or planned a future murder ! How would they have fallen asleep in each other's blood-stained arms ! with the ripping- chisel below their pillow, and the maul upon the hearth ! The Shepherd. I wadna walk by myself through a dark wood the night, gin ony body were to gie me a thousand pounds. I never heard you in sic a key before. It's no right it's no right ! - North. What do the phreuologers say about Thurtell ? I have not seen any of their Transactions lately. Tickler. That he had the organ of Conscientiousness full, a large Benevolence, and also a finely-developed organ of Veneration, just as it might have been expected, they say, from his character. For the phrenologer thinks that Jack would not have cheated an honest man, that he was another Howard in benevolence, and had a deep sense of religion. The Shepherd. I canna believe they would speak sic desperate hav- ers as that. Tickler (ringing the bell, enters Ambrose). Bring No. H. of the Phre- nological Journal, Mr. Ambrose. You know where to find it. Per- haps the article I allude to may not yet be destroyed. North. What can the Courier mean by talking suck infernal non- sense, Tickler, about that murderous desperado, Surgeon Conolly ? Tickler. A puzzle. The Courier is an excellent paper and I never before knew it, in a question of common sense and common morality, obstinately, singularly, and idiotically in the wrong. North. Why, the cruel villain would have shot others besides poor Grainger and after his blood was cooled, he exulted in the murder of that unfortunate man. The gallows was cheated of Couolly, by a quirk of the law. Tickler. Judge Best saw the thing in its true light ; and the coun- try is indebted to him for his stubborn justice. Why, the Courier says, that not one man in a hundred, but would have done as Conolly did.f Oh monstrous ! ;.s murder so very ordinary a transaction ? North. No more, no more. But to be done with it, listen to this : " We are informed that this unfortunate gentleman has directed his friends to supply him with a complete set of surgical instruments, with * There was no actual proof, but the strongest presumption, that Williams really was a wholesale murderer. He died before the time appointed for his trial, and the London popu- lace, solemnly taking his corpse to the places where the murders had been committed, treated it there with unheard of ignominy, and then shot ifinto a hole dug in a ditch, pour- ing over it as much quicklime as would have built a moderate-sized house. M. t I am ignorant of the circumstances here referred to. M. VOL. I. 29 418 NOCTES AMBROSIAN^J. all the new inventions, and a complete chamber medicine chest. There is no doubt that he will be of the greatest utility to the colony, from the great want of medical men there ; but there is less doubt that he will be one of the first in the country, as he is covered with misfor- tunes, and unpolluted by crime" Tickler. That cannot be from the Courier. North. Alas ! it is although quoted from the Medical Adviser. Tickler. I shall row Mudford for this, first time I dine with him iu town. Uere is another folly, although of a different character, from the same excellent paper of our excellent friend,* an account of the Stot's Introductory Lecture on what is called Political Economy. The Ricardo Lecture ! ! " Mr. M'Culloch began his lecture by pointing out the importance of the study of Political Economy, and observed, that the accumulation of wealth could alone raise men from that miserable state of society, in which all were occupied in providing for their im- mediate physical wants, by affording them the means of subsistence when employed in the cultivation of mental powers, or in those pur- suits which embellish life." North. Most statistical of Stots ! I had quite forgotten the stupid savage but, look here, Tickler here is a flaming account of his sec- ond display, in the Morning Chronicle. " He showed that objects de- rive their value from labor alone, and that they are more or less valu- able in proportion as labor is expended on them ; that the air, and the rays of the sun, however necessary and useful, possess no value ; that water, which at a river's side is of no value, acquires a value when re- quired by persons who are at some distance, in proportion to the labor employed in its conveyance." ShcpJterd. I aye thocht M'Culloch a dull dour fellow,f but the like o' that beats a'. It's an awfu' truism. The London folk 'ill never thole sic havers frae sic a hallanshaker. North. On Mr. Canning's appointment to the Secretaryship, the Cou- rier honored us by gracing its chief column with a character of that distinguished person from our pages, but without acknowledgment, He never quotes us, therefore why did he steal ? Tickler. Poo ! poo ! be not so sensitive. Nothing uncommon in that. It's the way of the world ; and I am sure if Odoherty were here, lie would laud Mudford for knowing a good thing. Here's that gen- tleman's health I respect and esteem him highly. James, you are a most admirable carver. That leg will do. Shepherd. No offence, sir, but this leg's no for you, but for mysel. I thought 1 wrad never hae gotten't aff. Naething better than the roasted * William Mudford was Editor of the London Courier for many years, and au'.hor of a ro niance called " Five Nights of St. Albans." M. t J. R. M'Culloch had been appointed Professor of Political Economy in London Univer.-ity, Ihi-n juat founded. M. CORNET BATTIEK. 419 leg o' a lien. Safe us ! she's fu' o' eggs. What for did they thraw the neck o' an eerock when her kanie was red, and her just gaeu to fa' a-laying ? Ilowsomever, there's no great hann done. Oh ! man, this is a grand soopinir-house, Rax owei the porter. Here's to you, lads, baith o : you. What's a' this bizziness that I heard them speaking about in Selkirk as I came through, in regard to the tenth company o' H^ozawrs ? Tickler. Why, I cannot think Battier a well-used man. They sent him to Coventry.* Sht.jrkerd. I would just as soon gang to Coventry as to Dublin city. But what was the cause o' the rippet ? North. Why, the Tenth is a crack regiment, and not thinking Mr. Battier any ornament to the corps, they rather forgot their good man- ners a little or so, and made the mess mighty disagreeable to him ; so, after several trifling occurrences too tedious to bore you with, Hogg, why, Mr. Battier made himself scarce, got himself rowed a good deal by the people at the Horse-guards, sold his horses, I presume, and now sports half-pay in the pedestrian service. The Shepherd. But what for was he nae ornament to the corpse ? Wasna he a gentleman ? North. Perfectly a gentleman ; but somehow or another not to the taste of the Tenth ; and then, such a rider ! The Shepherd. What ! wasna he a gude rider upon horseback ? North. The worst since John Gilpin. In a charge, he "grasped fast the flowing mane," gave tongue, and involuntarily deserted. So says his colonel ; and Mr. Battier, although he has published a denial of being the son of a merchant, has not, so far as I have observed, avowed himself a Castor. Shepherd. Na, if that be the case, the ither lads had some excuse. But what garr'd Mr. Battier gang into the Hoozawrs, gin he couldna ride ? I hope, now that he has gaen into the Foot, that he may be able to walk. If not, he had better leave the service, and fin' out some genteel sedentary trade. He wadna like to be a tailor ? Tickler. Why, Battier, I am told, is a worthy fellow, and as I said before, he was ill used. But he ought not to have gone into the Tenth, and he ought not to have made use of threatening inuendos after leav- ing the regiment, and crossing the Channel. North. Certainly not. No gentleman should challenge a whole regi- meitf, especially through the medium of the public press. Shepherd. If Mr. Battier were to challenge me, if I were ane o' the * Mr. Battier obtained a Cornetcy in the 10th Hussars, a dandy regtment, commanded by a gallant soldier, the late Marquis of Londonderry. The officers, on finding that Mr. Battler's fath '.: had been in trade, agreed to out him. Of course, he did not tamely submit to this, but Vs omplaints being useless, he left the regiment, challenging Lord Londondery to the duello, in e plea that he was to be held responsible for, because he could and ought to have check- ed ill conduct of the officers. Shots were exchanged, and this ended the affair. M. 420 NOCTES AMBKOSIA]$LE. offishers o' the Tenth, I wad fecht him on horseback either wi' sword or pistol, or baith ; and what wad my man do, then, wi' his arms around the neck o' his horse, and me hewing awa' at him, head and hurdies ? North. It was a silly business altogether, and is gone by but, alas, poor Collier ! That was a tragedy indeed. Tickler. Confound that lubber, James. If he has feeling at all, he must be miserable. North. His account of the affair at first was miserably ill-written indeed, incomprehensible and grossly contradictory extremely inso- lent, and in many essential points false. . All were to blame, it seems, commodore, captains, crews, and Admiralty. A pretty presumptuous prig ! Shepherd. Puir chiel ! puir chiel ! I saw't in a paper and couldna help greeting ; a' riddled wi' wouns in the service o' his country, and to come to that end at last ! Has that fallow James bitterly lamented the death o' the brave sea-captain,* and deplored having caused sic a woful disaster I North. Not as he ought to have done. But the whole country must henceforth despise him and his book. I could pardon his first offence, for no man could have foreseen what has happened ; but his subse- quent conduct has been unpardonable. He owed to the country the expression of deep and bitter grief, for having been the unintentional, but not altogether the innocent cause of the death of one of her noblest O heroes. Tickler. I see Phillimore has been bastinadoing James impru- dently, I opine. You have no right to walk into a man's house with your hat on, like a Quaker, supported by a comrade, and then in the most un-Friendly manner, strike your host over the pate with a scion from an oak-stump. North. Certainly you have not. I am sorry that my friend Philli- more, as brave a fellow as ever walked a quarter-deck, did not consult his brother the doctor. But I believe the captain had no intention of assaulting the naval historian when he entered the premises ; and that some gross impertinence on the part of the scribe, brought the switch into active service. Tickler. The public will pardon Phillimore.f A Naval History is a very good thing, if written by a competent person, which James is not, although the man has some merit as a chronicler. But the very idea of criticising in detail every action, just as you would criticise a volume of poems, is not a little absurd. Southey's Life of Nelson is good. * Mr. James not the novelist) had written a Naval Biography in which he did less than justice to a brave officer Collier. This led to the fearful catastrophe, which is alluded to here, t James frequently received striking criticisms of this nature. Captain Phillimore waa brother of Dr. Phillimore, Government Advocate in the Admiralty Court, London, and Chan- cellor of Worcester, Oxford, and Bristol. M. THUETELL. 421 North. Excellent. Look at James's History after reading that admi- rable Manual, and you will get sick. Shepherd. lie's just a wonderfu' man, Soothey ; the best o' a' tho Lakers. Tickler. Bam the Lakers. Here's some of the best Hollands that ever crossed the Zuyder Zee. Make a jug, James. Shepherd. Only look, what has become of the supper? Mr. Tickler, you've a fearsome appetite. Hear hear there's the alarm-bell and the fire-drum ! Saw na ye that flash o' licht? I hope it may turn out a gude conflagration. Hear till the ingines. I'm thinking the fire's on the North Bridge. I hope it's no in my freen' Mr. John Anderson's shop. North. I hope not. Mr. Anderson is a prosperous bibliopole, and these little cheap editions of the Scottish Poets, Ramsay, and Burns, and Grahame, are admirable. The prefaces are elegantly and judi- ciously written the text correct type beautiful, and embellishments appropriate. Tickler. The " Fire-Eater," lately published by Mr. Anderson, is a most spirited and interesting tale full of bustle and romantic inci- dents. I intend to review it. Shepherd. The "Fire-Eater" is a fearsome name for ony Christian ; but how can you twa sit ower your toddy in that gait, discussing the merits o' beuks, when I tell you the whole range o' buildings yonder's in a bleeze ? Enter MR. AMBROSE with the Phrenological Journal. Ambrose. Gentlemen, Old Levy the Jew's fur-shop is blazing away like a fury, and threatening to burn down the Hercules Insurance Office. Tickler. Out with the candles. I call this a very passable fire. Why, look here, the small type is quite distinct. I fear the block- heads will be throwing water upon the fire, and destroying the effect. Mr. Ambrose, step over the way and report progress. Shepherd. Can ye see to read thae havers, by the fire-flaughts, Mr. Tickler? Tickler. What think ye, James, of the following touch ? " Yet the organ, of benevolence is very large ; and this is no contradiction, but a confirmation of phrenology. Tliurtell, with all his violence and dissi pation, was a kind-hearted man !" Shepherd. You're making that. Nae man can be sic a fule as write that down, far less edit it. Do they give any proofs of hi n benevolence ? Tickler. Yes yes. He once gave half-a-sovereign to an old bro- ken black-leg, and " upon witnessing a quarrel which had nearly ended in a fight, between Harry Harmer and Ned Painter, at the hous> 423 NOCTES AMBK08IAN.E. Of' the former pugilist the Plough in Smithfield and which origin- ated through Thurtell, he felt so much hurt, that he shed tears in reconciling them to ;iach other!" Shepherd. The blackguard's been greetin' fu'. Tickler (reading), " His behaviour in prison w:.s of so affecting and endearing a nature, that the account of the parting scene between him and the jailer, and others who had been in the habit of great inter- course with him, during his confinement, i. affecting enough to draw tears from every one whose heart is not made of stone !" Shepherd. Weel, then, mine is made o' stane.. For it was to me just perfectly disgustful and loathsome. Sir James Mackintosh broached preceesely my sentiments in the House o' Commons. A man may weel greet, in a parting scene wi' a jailer, when he is gaun out to the open air to be hanged, without ouy great benevolence. Tickler. " His uniform kindness to Hunt, after Probert had escaped punishment as king's evidence, up to the moment of his execution, was of the warmest nature. Although Hunt was probably drawn into H share of the bloody transaction by Thurtell, the affectionate conduct of Thurtell towards him so completely overpowered him, that had Thurtell been the most virtuous person upon earth, and he and HUNT OF OPPOSITE SEXES, Thurtell could not have rendered himself rnor ) beloved than every action of Hunt proved lie was." Shepherd. A fool and a phrenologist is a' ae thing, Mr. Tickler I admit that noo. Hunt did all he could to hang Thurtell Thurtell abused Joe constantly in prison and in his .speech frightened him out of his wits by his horrid faces, as Huitt tells in his confession to Mr. Uarmer. Ten minutes after Jack is hanged, Hunt declares that he richly deserved it his whole confession is full of hatred (real or affected) towards Thvrtell. During his imprisonment in the hulks, his whole behaviour is reckless, and destitute of all feeling for any hu- man creature, and at last he sails off with curses in his throat, and sulky anger in his miserable heart. It's a shame for Dr. Pool to edit sic vile nonsense, and I'll speak to him about it mysel'. Tickler. Hear the Doctor himself. " That Thurtell, with a large benevolence, should commit such a deed, was reckoned by many completely subversive of the science. Do such persons recollect the character of one Othrllo, drawn by William Shakspeare ? Is there no adhesiveness, no generosity, no benevolence in that mind so por- trayed by the poet ? and was a more cool and deliberate murder ever committed ?" Shepherd. That beats Tims. Othello compared to Thurtell ; and what's waur, wee Weare in the sack likened, by implication, to Des- deinona ! That's Phrenology, is't ? I canna doubt noo the story o' the Turnip. Tickler. This Phrenologist admires Thurtell as one of the bravest THE DIKE. 423 of men. "No murder," says he, "was ever committed with movo daring." Do you think so, James? Shepherd. Oh ! the wretched coward ! What bravery was there ill a big strong man inveigling a shilly-shally feckless swindler into a gig, a' swoddled up in a heavy great-coat, and a' at aince, unawares, in a dark loan, shooting him in the head wi' a pistol ? And then, when the puir devil was frighted, and stunned, and half dead, cutting his throat wi' a penknife. Dastardly ruffian ! Tickler. "The last organ stated as very large is Cautiousness. This part of his character was displayed in the pains he took to con- ceal the murder, to hide the body, &c." Shepherd. What the devil ! wad ony man that had murdered anither no try either to conceal the body, or to avoid suspicion ? Was it ony mark of caution to confide in twa such reprobates as Hunt and Probert, both of whom betrayed the murderer ? Was it ony mark o' caution to tell the Bow Street officer, when he was apprehended, that he had thrown Weare's watch over a hedge ? Was it ony mark o' caution to lose his pistol and penknife in the dark ? Was it ony mark o' caution to keep bluidy things on and about him, afterwards for days, in a public house ? Fule and phrenologist are a' ane, sir, truly enough. Tickler. "A martyr could not have perished more heroically." Shepherd. That's no to be endured. Thurtell behaved wi' uae mair firmness than ony ither strong-nerved ruffian on the scaffold. Was his anxiety about the length o' rope like a martyr ? Naebody be- haved sae weel at the last as the honest hangman. Tickler. The ass thus concludes : " I will not detain the reader any longer ; but trust enough has been said to show, that if ever head confirmed Phrenology, it is the head of Thurtell." Shepherd. Fling that trash frae you, and let us out-by to the fire. The roof of the house must be falling in belyve. Save us, what a hum o' voices, and trampling o' feet, and hissing o' ingines, and growling o' the fire ! Let's out to the Brig, and see the rampaging element! Tickler, You remind me, Hogg, of Nero surveying Rome on fire, and playing on the harp. Shepherd. Do ye want a spring on the fiddle ? See till him, North's sleeping! Let's out amang the crowd for an hour. He'll never miss us till we come back, and crutches are no for a crowd. 424: NOCTES AMBROSIANJfi. BCENE III. The North Bridge. Mr. TICKLER and the SHEPHERD incog, in the crowd. Tickler. Two to one on the fire. Shepherd. That's a powerfu' ingine. I wad back the water, but there's ower little o't. (Addressing himself generally to what Pierce. JSgan calls the audience.) " Lads, up wi' the causeway, and get to the water-pipes." (The hint is taken, and the engines distinguish themselves greatly.) Tickler. Hogg, you Brownie, I never thought you were the man to throw cold water on any night's good amusement. Shepherd. I'll back the water, noo, for a gallon o' whisky. Tickler. Young woman, it's no doubt a very pretty song of old Hector Macneil's, " Come under my plaidie, the night's gaun to fa', There's room iu't, dear lassie, believe me, for twa." But still, if you please, you need not put your arm under mine, till I whisper into your private ear. Shepherd. What's the limmer wanting ? female. What ! Is that you, Mr. Hogg ? Ken ye ocht o' your friend, Captain Odoherty ? Shepherd. There there's half-a-crown for you gang about your business, you slut or I'll brain ye. I ken nae Captain Odoherties. Tickler. I remember, James, that a subscription-paper was carried about a few years ago, to raise money for pulling down this very range of buildings, which had just been earned up at a considerable expense. Shepherd. And you subscribed ten pounds ? Tickler. I should as soon have thought of subscribing ten pounds for Christianizing Tartary. Shepherd. There's an awfu' wark in Embro' just now, about raising monuments to every body, great and small. Did you hear, sir, o' ane about to be raised to Dubisson the dentist ? Tickler. I did. It is to be a double statue. Dubisson is to be re presented in marble, with one hand grasping a refractory patient by the jaw-bone, and with the other forcibly introducing his instrument into the mouth. I have seen a sketch of the design, and it is equal to the Hercules and Antaeus. Shepherd. Whaur's it to be erected ? Tickler. In the Pantheon, to be sure. Shepherd. Houts it maun be a joke. But Mr. Tickler, have you seen a plan o' the monument built at Alloa to Robert Burns ? Tickler. Ay, James, there is some sense in that. My friend Thomas THE CONFLAGRATION. 425 Hamilton's .design is most beautiful, simple, and impressive. It stands where it ought to stand, and the gentlemen of Coila deserve every praise. I have heard that a little money may be still needed in that quarter very little, if any at all. And I will myself subscribe five pounds. Shepherd. So will I. But the Monument no being in Embro', you see, nor Mr. Thomas Hamilton a man fond o 1 putting himself forward, aue hears naething about it. I only wish he would design ane half as gude for mysel. Tickler. Ah ! my beloved Shepherd, not for these thirty years at least. Your worthy father lived to ninety odd why not his son? Some half century hence, your effigy will be seen on some bonny green knowe in the Forest, with its honest brazen face looking across St. Mary's Loch, and up towards the Gray-mare's tail, while by moon- light all your own fairies will weave a dance round its pedestal. Shepherd (in amazement]. My stars ! yonder's Odoherty ! Tickler. Who ? The Adjutant ? Shepherd. Odoherty ! look at him look at him see how he is handing out the furniture through the window, on the third flat of an adjoining tenement. How the deevil got he there ! Weel, siccan a deevil as that Odoherty ! and him, a' the time, out o' Embro', as I hae't under his ain hand ! Tickler. There is certainly something very exhilarating in a scene of this sort. I am a Guebir, or Fire-worshipper. Observe, the crowd are all in most prodigious spirits. Now, had it been a range of houses tenanted by poor men, there would have been no merriment. But Mr. Levy is a Jew rich probably and no doubt insured. Therefore, all is mirth and jollity. Shepherd. Insurance offices, too, are a' perfect banks, and ane cauna help enjoying a bit screed aff their profits. My gallon o' whisky's gane ; the fire has got it a' its ain way noo, and as th* best o' the bleeze is ower, we may return to Ambrose's. Tickler. Steady there was a pretty tongue of fire flickering out of the fourth story. The best is to come yet. What a contemptible af- fair is an illumination ! Shepherd. Ye may say that wi' an auld hizzie at every window, left at hame to watch the candle-doups. Stranger (to the Shepherd). Sir, I beg your pardon, but you seem to be an amateur ? Shepherd. No, sir, I am a married man, with two children. Stranger. "Tis a very so-so fire. I regret having left bed for it Shepherd. What ! were you siccan a fule as leave your warm bed for a fire ? I'm thinking you'll be nae mair an amateur than mysel, but a married man. Stranger. I have seen, sir, some of the first fires in Europe. Drury- 426 NOCTES AMBROSIANJE. Lane, and Covent-Garclen Theatres, each burned down twice Opera- house twice property to the amount of a million at the West India Docks several successful cotton-mill incremations of merit at Man- chester two explosions (one with respectable loss of life) of powder- mills and a very fine conflagration of shipping at Bristol. Shepherd. Mr. Tickler heard ye ever the like ? Tickler. Never, llogg. Shepherd. I'm the Ettrick Shepherd and this is Mr. Tickler, sir. Stranger. What ! can I trust my ears am I in presence of two of the men who have set the whole world on fire ? Shepherd. Yes you are, sir, sure enough, and yonder's the Adju- tant Odoherty, wi' his face a' covered wi' coom, getting sport up yonder, and doing far mair harm than good, that's certain. But will you come with us to Ambrose's ? Whare is he, Tickler ? whare is he ? Whare's the gentleman gone ? Tickler. I don't know. Look at your watch, James. What is the hour ? Shepherd (fumbling about his fob}. My watch is gone ! my watch is gone ! he has picket my pocket o' her ! Deevil burn him ! 1 nift'ered wi' Baldy Bracken, in the Grass-market, the day before yester- day, and she didna lose a minute in the twenty-four. This is a bad job let us 1 back to Ambrose's. I'll never see her face again. SCENE IV. The Banqueting-Room. NORTH (solus, and asleep). Enter on tiptoe MR. AMBROSE. Mr. Ambrose. This fire has made me anxious about my premises. All right. He is fast as a nail ; and snores (first time I ever heard him) like the rest of his species. Bless my soul 1 the window is open at his very ear. (Pulls down the sash.) North (awakening). Ambrose ! I have had a congelating dream. Ice a foot thick in my wash-hand basin, and an icicle six inches long at my nose ! Ambrose. I am glad to have awakened you, sir. Shall I bring you a little mulled port ? North. No no Ambrose. Wheel me towards the embers. I hear it reported, Ambrose, that you are going to gut the tenement. Is it so? Ambrose. It is an ancient building, Mr. North, and somewhat incom- modious. During the summer months it will undergo a great change anJ thorough repair. GUTTING THE HOUSE. 42 T North. Well, we! , Ambrose, I rejoice to know that a change is de- manded by the increase of resort ; but yet, methinks, I shall cou- teinplate an/ alteration with a pensive and melancholy spirit. This v r ery room, Mr. Ambrose, within whose four walls I have been so often lately', must its dimensions be changed? Will this carpet be lifted? That chimney-piece be removed ? -I confess that the thought affects me, Mr. Ambrose. Forgive the pensive tear. (Takes out his square of India, and blows his nose in a hurried and agitated manner?) Ambrose. Mr. North, I have frequently thought of all this, and rather than hurt your feelings, sir, I will let the house remain as it is. I beseech you, sir, be composed. North. No ! " Ambrose, thou reasonest well," it must be so. The whole city undergoeth change deep and wide, and wherefore should Gabriel's Road, and the Land of Ambrose, be alone immutable ? Down with the partitions ! The mind soon reconciles itself to the loss of what it most dearly loved. But the Chaldee Chamber, Ambrose ! the Chaldee Chamber, Ambrose ! must it go must it go, indeed, and be swallowed up in some great big wide unmeaning room, desti- tute alike of character and comfort, without one high association hanging on its blue or yellow walls ? Ambrose. No, Mr. North ; rather than alter the Chaldee Chamber, would I see the whole of Edinburgh involved in one general conflagra- tion. North. Enough enough now my mind is at rest. With ham mers, and with axes both, let the workmen forthwith fall to. You must keep pace, Mr. Ambrose, with the progress, the advancement of the age. Ambrose. Sir, I have been perfectly contented, hitherto, with the ac- commodation this house affords, and so, I humbly hope, have been my friends ; but I owe it to those friends to d.o all I can to increase their comforts, and I have got a plan that I think will please you, sir. North. Better, Ambrose, than that of the British itself. But no more. Think you the lads will return ? If not, I must hobble home- wards. Ambrose. Hearken, sir Mr. Tickler's tread in the trance. (Exit sicsurrans.) Enter TICKLER and the SHEPHERD. Tickler. Have you supped, North ? North. Not I, indeed. Ambrose, bring supper. (Exit Ambrose.} The Shepherd. I think I wull rather take some breakfast. Mr. North, I'm thinking you're sleepy ; for you're lookin' unco gash. Do you want an account o' the fire ? North. Certainly not. Mr. Ambrose and I were engaged in a very 428 NOCTES AMBKOSIAN.E. interesting conversation when you entered. We were discussing the merits of the Exhibition. The Shepherd. O' the pictures ? I was there the day. Oh ! man, yon things o' Wulkie's are chief endeavoors. That ane frae the Gentle Shepherd is just nature hersel. I wush he would illustrate in that gait some o' the bonniest scenes in the Queen's Wake. Tickler. Worth all the dull dirty daubs of all the Dutchmen that ever vomited into a canal. Nauseous ninnies ! a coarse joke may pass in idle talk a word and away but think, James, of a human being painting filth and folly, dirt and debauchery, vulgarity and rileness, day after "day, month after month, till he finally covered the canvas :vith all the accumulated beastliness of his most drunken and sensual inagination ! North. Stop, Tickler remember Teniers, and The Shepherd. Remember nae sic fallow, Mr. Tickler ; Wulkie's wee finger's worth the hail o' them. "Duncan Gray cam here to woo," is sae gude, that it's maist unendurable. Yon's the bonniest lass ever I saw in a' my born days. What a sonsy hawse ! But in- deed, she's a' alike parfite. Tickler. Stop, Shepherd, remember. I saw a Cockney to-day look- ing at that picture, and oh ! what a contrast between the strapping figure of Duncan Gray, his truly pastoral physiognomy, well-filled top- boots, (not unlike your own,) and sinewy hands that seem alike ready for the tug of either love or war and the tout-ensemble of that most helpless of all possible creatures. North. John Watson is great this year. Happy man, to whom that beautiful creature (picture of a Lady) may be inditing a soft epistle ! What innocence, simplicity, grace, and gaiete du coeur ! Why, if that sweet damosel would think of an old man like the The Shepherd. Haud your tongue. Why should she think o' an auld man ? " Ye might be her gutcher, you're threescore and twa." Tickler. Mr. Thomson of Duddingston is the best landscape-painter Scotland ever produced better than either Nasmyth, or Andrew Wil- son, or Greek Williams. North. Not so fast, Tickler. Let us discuss the comparative merits The Shepherd. Then I'm aff. For o' a' the talk in this world, that about pictures is the warst I wud say that to the face o' the Director- General himsel. North. A hint from my Theocritus is sufficient. What think you, Bion, of this parliamentary grant of 300,000 for repairing old Wind sor? The Shepherd. I never saw the Great House o' Windsor Palace, but it has been for ages the howf o' kings, and it maunua be allowed to gang back. If 300,000 winna do. gie a million. Man, if I was THE NORTH POLE. 429 tut in Parliament, I would gie the niggarts their fairings. Grudge a king a palace ! North, What say you, my good Shepherd, to a half million more for churches ? Shepherd. Mr. North, you and Mr. Tickler is aiblins laughing at me, and speering questions at me, that you may think are out o' my way to answer ; but, for a' that, I perhaps ken as weel's either o' you, what's due to the religious establishments of a great and increasing kiutra, wi' a population o' twal millions, mair or less, in or owre. Isn't it sae ? North. Well said, James. This is not the place, perhaps, to talk much of these serious matters ; but no ministry will ever stand the lower in the estimation of their country, for having enabled some hundred thousands more of the people to worship their Maker publicly once a-week. Shepherd. I'm thinking no. Nane o' the Opposition wad oppose a grant o' half a million for bigging schools, the mair's their merit ; and if sae, what for no kirks ? Edication and religion should gang hand in hand. That's aye been -my thocht. (Enter Ambrose, with supper?) Howsomever, here's sooper ; and instead o' talking o' kirks, let us a' gang oftener till them. Put down the sassages afore me, Ambrose. Ye're looken unco weel the noo, man : I hardly ever saw ye sae fat. How is the mistress and the bairns ? Ambrose. All well, sir, I thank you, Mr. Hogg. The Shepherd. Od, man, I wush you would come out at the preach ings, when the town's thin, and see us at Altrive. Ambrose. I fear it is quite impossible for me to leave town, Mr. Hogg ; but I shall always be most happy to see you here, sir. The Shepherd. I've been in your house a hunder and a hunder times, and you ken I lodged ance in the flat aboon ; and never did I hear ony noise, or row, Or rippet, below your rigging. I dinna repent a single hour I ever sat here ; I never saw or heard naething said or done here that michtna been said or done in a minister's manse.' But it's waxing early, and I ken you dinna keep untimeous hours ; so let us devoor supper, and be aff. That fire taigled us. North. I had been asleep for an hour, before mine host awakened me, and had a dream of the North Pole. The Shepherd. North Pole ! How often do you think Captain Parry intends howking his way through these icebergs, wi' the snout o' his discovery ships ? May he never be frozen up at last, he and a his crew, in thae dismal regions ! North. Have you read Franklin and Richardson ? The Shepherd. Yes, I hae. Yon was terrible. Day after day nae- thing to eat but tripe afl the rocks, dry banes, auld shoon, and a god- 430 NOC1E8 AMBKOSIAE.E. send o' a pair of leathern breeches ! What would they no hae given for sic a sooper as this here ! Tickler, llave you no intention, James, of going on the next land- expedition ? The Slwpherd. Na, na ; I canna do without vittals. I was ance for twenty hours without tasting a single thing but a bit cheese and half 'A bannock, and I was close upon the fainting. Yet I would like to see the North Pole. Tickler. Where's your chronometer, James ? The Shepherd. Whisht, whisht ; I ken that lang-nebbit word. Whisht, whisht. Safe us! is that cauld lamb? We'll no hae lamb in Yarrow for a month yet. Tickler. Come, North, bestir yourself, you're staring like an owl in a consumption. Tip us A, my old boy. The Shepherd. Mr. Tickler, Mr. Tickler, what langish is that to use till Mr. North ? Think shame o' yoursel'. North. No editor, James, is a hero to his contributors. The Shepherd. Weel, weel, I for ane will never forget my respect for Mr. Christopher North. He has lang been the support o' the liter- ature, the pheelosophy, the religion, and what's o' as great importance as ony thing else, the gude manners o' the kintra. Tickler. Forgive me, North, forgive me, James. Come, I volun- teer a song. The Shepherd. A sang ! Oh man, you're a bitter bad singer timmer-tuned, though a decent ear. Let's hear the lilt. Come draw me six mag-nums of cla - ret, Don't spare it, Bat share It in bum - pers a - round ; And take care that in each shin - ing brim mer No glim-mer Of skim-mer-ing day - light be found. Fill a- way! Fill a- way! Fill a - way! Fill bura-pera *o DRINK AWAY.' 431 those that you love, For we will be hap - py to - day ! As the gods arc when drinking a - bove. Drink a - way ! Drink a wav 2. Give way to each thought of your fancies, That dances, Or glances, or looks of the fair ; And beware that from fears of to-morrow You borrow No sorrow, nor foretaste of care. Drink away, drink away, drink away! For the honor of those you adore : Come, charge! and drink fairly to-3ay, Though you swear you will never drink mere 3. I last night, cut, and quite melancholy, Cried folly ! What's Polly to reel for her fame f Yet I'll banish such hint till the morning And scorning Such warning to-night, do the same. Drink away, drink away, drink away I Twill banish blue devils and pain ; And to-night for my joys if I pay, Why, to-morrow I'll go it again. Enter MR. AMBROSE, with alarm. Mr. Ambrose. As I live, sir, here's Mr. Odoherty. Shall I saj you are here, for he is in a wild humor ? Enter ODOHERTY, singing. I've kiss'd and I've prattled with fifty fair maids, And changed them as oft, do ye see, /0ii ye Ktpficoiwv avSptav Srijioars iroXiffrf, Hspi Kai vt-peXri Kdca^vftfifvoi, uis WOT' avms HeAtos tfxicdbiv cxifcpKCTai) arrive tamv Ooii' bffor av irrei^ritri irpos upavov d^tfotvra Ofl' brav dtp cm yaiav dir ipavoOtv irporpow.'jrai Helas ! helas ! , time, there was a duty of three shillings and six- pence (S4 cents) upon each advertisement. A slight equivalent for the stamp-duty wai afforded by allowing all newspapers to be carried, free of charge, through the post-office. In September, 1836, a remission of these duties, commonly called " Taxes upon Knowledge," came into effect. The newspaper duty was diminished to one penny (two cents) on each newspaper, and one cent for supplements. At the same time, the duty was reduced from 84 to 36 cents on each advertisement. In August, 1S53, the advertisement duty was wholly abolished, and the supplement stamp further reduced. As Th6 Times has not abated its charges, it thus gains 30 cents extra on each advertisement, and the reduction in the supple- ment duty has enabled it to extend its daily sale from 44,0110 (beyond which it previously could not print, to sell at 10 cents each copy, without lo~-0 to 7:>.noo. which are its numbers at the present date [July, 1S64]. These changes have put 100,000 per annum extra profit in the treasury of The Time*, inasmuch as it has wholly appropriated to itself the benefits of the reduction legislatively intended for the public. All British newspapers continue to be carried free by the post-office, but it is probable that the law will be further amended, so as to pro- vide that newspapers which do not pass through the post-office shall be unstamped, and that only those which are so conveyed shall bear a penny stamp, or be charged with a penny postage. M. t It was reported, and obtained many believers, tha^, early in 1820, on the accession of Pcorge IV., when a difficulty appeared likely to arise about his wife, the proprietors of The Times met and had a long discussion as to the part that journal should take in the coding 460 NOCTES AMBROSIAU^E. Odoherty. I don't follow you exactly why ? North. I caa't help it, if you can't see what is to me as plain as any pike-staff. A groom out of place advertises in only one paper, because he can't afford to pay two three-and-sixpences to the King make the duty only one shilling and ninepence, and he will give himself the benefit of two advertisements, and a clever lad is he if he finds means to patronize another paper as blackguard as the Times. But I take much wider ground than all this, sir. If the newspaper press, partic- ularly the Sunday one, were as free and unshackled (I mean as to taxes) as every other press is, we could not see it so infinitely above any other press that exists on the score of profligacy. We could not see it the daily, the hourly practice of a newspaper to take BRIBES, if the bribers were, in consequence of a greater competition, compelled to bribe many mc>re than they at present have to do with. Thus, for example, we should see no more of the scandalous subjection to the interests of particular Stock-jobbers and brokers* we should have no more of those egregious lies which every day shows and detects we should have no more of those attacks on men who pay ten guineas next day or next week, to have their characters vindicated. This most cry- ing evil of open venality would at least be greatly, very greatly dimin- ished. Odoherty. Well, I had rather see than hear tell of it, as Hogg's phrase is. North. You remember what Clement of the Observer did about the trial of Thistlewood. The court prohibited in the most solemn mannei the publication of any part of the evidence, in any one of that batch of trials, until the whole had been terminated. Mr. Clement was the only one who disobeyed this. Well, he was ordered into court, and fined 500 for the contempt and what followed ? Odoherty. I can't charge my memory, i'faith, with such doings. North. Why, he paid the money, and after he had done so, very coolly informed the public, that he had not only paid the fine out of the extra profits of the paper containing the .offensive matter, but put, over and above, a very handsome sum into his own pocket.f This was as it should be ! Odoherty. Quite so. eontest. It was decided, by a majority of one, that it would side with the Queen, which it dxl, with great force and success, from the time her name was first mentioned in Parliament, in February, 1820, until and after her death in August, 1821. M. ing been used by him to bull or bear particular stocks as his interests required. M. t Mr. Clement sold over 200,000 copies of the Observer, with the report of Arthur Thistle- Vood's trial for high treason. Taking the nett profit on each number to be three cents, the amount would be 1250 on that single issue, (to say nothing of its acth/g as the very best advrtisement of the paper,) so that, by disobeying the order of the Court, he cleared 750. M. NEWSPAPER STAMPS 461 North. The second part of my plan would, however, tell quite aa severely on many other quacks, as on the quacks of the Daily and Weekly papers. If it cost less to advertise, more would advertise. Your King Solomon would have brothers nearer the throne. In short, the thing by being egregiously overdone at the first would soon and effectually correct itself. This is very well argued in the little book you have tabled. Odoherty. Be it so. But things will go on in the old way, notwith- standing. To tell you the truth, I skipped all that affair at once, as unquestionable balaam. What I looked to was the individual history of the different Journals their comparative sales, >very news- paper stamp bore the name of the particular journal on which it was placed. This enahlrd has appeared only once during a long period. M. NOCTE8 AMBRO81ANJS. falsehood on any subject whatever. Such a man as Stoddart or Mud- ford, for example nobody believes they would lie for any thii,g, far less for this sort of filth. Odoherty. Certainly not. By the by, now you mention it, I was thunderstruck to find it laid down distinctly, that the total number of political journals circulated in the British islands has trebled yes, trebled, within the last forty years. North. No wonder. The American Revolution the French Revo- lution Bonaparte Wellington the stream of events, and the im- mense increase of readers of every thing else when you take this into view, no wonder at the increase about the newspapers. Odoherty. I suppose nobody ever heard of such editions of even the best books a hundred years ago, as we now daily hear of. North. No; not at all. In Pope's time, sir, 500 copies was a great edition you will find this taken for granted in all the books of the time. Even in Dr. Johnson's time, 750 was reckoned a very largo edition of the most populir book, by the most popular author of his day. Even twenty years back, things were in a totally different con- dition from what we are now accustomed to. What would any body have said to an edition of 10,000 or 12,000 of a new novel ? What would any body have said to a review selling 12,000 or 14,000 regu- larly every number, as I believe the Quarterly has done, for several years back ? Sir, this business has progressed in the most astonishing ratio. Odoherty. Ay, i'faith, and nobody has more reason to rub his hands thereupon than yourself. North. So well, well, let that pass now that your cigar is out. pray have the kindness to unlock the balaam-box here, and let's see what's to go on ; for the 12th draweth on, and my heart panteth for Brae-mar. Odoherty. And that's what I will do, my hearty ; and rnany's the time we have done more for each other before this night was born. Here, give me the key ; you always keep it at your watch, I think. North. There it is ; take care of my grandmother's repeater ; 'tis the little queer-looking fellow, with the B. B. B. B. woven in cipher upon it. Odoherty. What, four B's ? North. Yes. Bailie Blackwood's Balaam Box. 'Tis his box, you know, because, according to our friend's verses long ago, out of pvery one of these bunches it is highly probable " Our worthy Publisher purloins a few About his roasting-mutton shanks to screw " Odoherty. Here's something in old T : cklers fist- -shall we vnlli C7erhau'ing that lad ? TICKLER ON MACKINTOSH. North. Certainly. Docs he mean to stay all the summer in Dublin, I wonder ? Read him, Morgan. t'loheriy (rends). " Letters of Timothy Tickler, Esq., to Eminent Literary Characters, Number to Sir James Mackintosh, Kut., late Recorder of Bombay " North. What? what? what? Sir Jamie again ? Odoherty. Pooh ! don't be alarmed one would have thought you had seen Pair's wig or Gerald's ghost, or the Bonassus rampant 'tis .'only a letter to Sir Jamie, I perceive, about his articles on Brodie's His- tory, and Croker's edition of the Suffolk Papers, in the last Edinburgh Review. North. Come, that's rather too much, Timotheus. I thought ',ie had sufficiently squabashed those two concerns in one of his late effusions to Jeffrey. But read on. Odoherty Excuse me 'tis a cursed small hand I see it begins as usual with a philippic anent things in general "Burke" "Pitt" " Gibbon"" Hume"" Brodie" " Charles"" Colonel Harrison," ay, ay, we may hop over a little of this ground. " Your last Number, sir," here we are more likely to have something "Flagrant" " ca- lumnious" Pooh! pooh! what a pother about nothing! Come, here's something in double column, and one half in red ink, I swear. Listen to him here, North (reads) " It may be thought that the trivial punishment I have already inflicted on your critique was as much as the affair merited. It may be so, very probably. But it so happens, sir, that you have to do with a queer old gentleman, three- fourths of whose library is made up of old books, and one-half of whose time is spent in hunting up and down among them in quest of matters nearly as insignificant as the party spleen of an Edinburgh Reviewer, or the historical accuracy of a Sir James Mackintosh." Come, Timo- thy gets prosy. North. Let me hear the double column part of it. Odohfrty. Oh ! it is infernally long- I haven't wind for it, really. North. A specimen, then corrections of Sir James's corrections as to matters of fact, I presume ? Odoherty. Exactly ay, he puts the sentence of blue and yellow oa the first column, and his own in red ink opposite to it. Ha ! I see where he had begun to write with a new pen. I can make him out here, I believe here goes, then. Thus reciteth and corrccteth Sir J. To which respondeth Timothy Tickler Mackintosh, Knt. Esq. " Henry Grey, only Duke of Kent, The Duke of Kent died the 5th died in 1740," for which read 1741. June, 1740. See London Magazine for 1740, p. 3C1, and Geut Mag. for 1740 p. 314. ' Not th. Very well, Timothy ! Go on. 464: NOCTES AMBROSIAN.E. Odoherty. Sir Jamie again. "Her eldest son, (George,) after- wards second Lord Hervey." There was John, FIHST Lord Ilervey, after- wards created Earl of Bristol. Carr, SECOND Lord Hervey, Ms eldest son. John, THIRD Lord Hervey, his second son; consequently Lady Hervey's son, George, was the FOURTH Lord Hervey. North. Well hit again, Tim. Odoherty. At it again, boys. Sir Jjimes ! " Leonel, seventh Earl, and first Duke of Dorset, died in 1765." For 1765, read 17 63 1 Odoherty. Round fourth ! The Recorder. " Lord Scarborough put a period to his existence in 1739." For 1739, read 1740. To which again Timotheus. These four Lord Herveys did really exist, and yet the editor of Lady Suf- folk's Letters is right, and the critic egregiously wrong. John, first Lord Hervey, so created in 1703, was created Earl of Bristol in 1714. His eldest son, Carr, was only a commoner, called Lord Hervey by courtesy. So was his second son John for many years ; but in 1733, the latter was created a peer, (see Coxe,) by the title of Lord Hervey, and on his death, (old Lord Bristol being still alive,) his son George be- came the second peer of the creation of 1733, and on Lord Bristol's death, he became also the second peer of the creation of 1703. So that the critic is doubly wrong; and without any excuse; for all these facts may be gathered from the editor's notes, as well as from the Peerages. Southside ! ! ! The Duke of Dorset died 9th Octo- ber, 1765. See London Magazine, p. 598, and Gentleman's Magazine, p. 491. Long shanks ! ! ! This is not mere inaccuracy on the part of the critic ; it is ign3rance. He has forgotten that the style was not yet changed, and Lord Scarborough died on the 4th February, 1789, old style. North. A facer ! Does he come to time ? Odoherty. Round fifth. Here they go. Jem! " The Great Lord Mansfield died on the 20th of March, 1793, in the eighty- eighth year of his age." Lord Mans- field was born on the Id March, 1705, and was therefore in the EIGHTY-NINTH year of his age. Tim!!! I have already laughed at the value and importance of this correction, if it even were one ; but unfortunately the erudite critic again forgets the change of the style. March, 1705, old style, would be March, 1706, new style ; so that Lord Mansfield seems to have wanted some few days of completing his 88th year. EOBEKT BLOOMFIELD. North. Enough, enough, man ; such errors and such corrections are in themselves wholly inconsiderable, and not worth the notice of a pipe-stapple. It was ridiculous enough to see a solemn jackass set about such amendments ; but to find that his grave amendments are, in fact, flagrant blunders, is as comical as any thing in Mathev/s's American judge. But we have other fish to fry. Just put Timothy into my portfolio, and see what comes to hand next. Odoherty. "Remains of Robert Bloomfield." Ay, poor fellcw ! Jiere was one genuine poet, though of the lowly breed. North. He was so, indeed, Odoherty. I thought that book would Se found in the box ; for I had a letter not long ago mentioning the tning from his family. They sent me, by the way, most of the proof- sheets of the book, and a specimen of his handwriting. Should you like to see it ? Odoherty. Not I ; give it to D'Israeli. He, you recollect, is one, not of the Bumpologists, but of the Fistologists ; he will take it quite as a compliment. North. I dare say they have sent him another letter and specimen of the same cut already. You must table your coin on this occasion, Odoherty. Bloomfield, from no fault of his own, has died poor, and left a worthy and amiable family in rather dependent condition.* You must take a few copies of the Remains at all events. Odoherty. Why, as neither you nor I have any young ladies to put to school, I don't know in what other way we can do any thing for Bloomfield's daughters. Well, put me down, Editor. North. I will, sir ; but there is no school in the case. Miss Hannah Bloomfield, indeed, wishes to have a situation as a musical teacher in some respectable family ; and as she is evidently, from what appears in these very volumes, possessed of very considerable musical taste and skill, I trust the worthy daughter of such a man will not be long in getting the establishment she wishes. The whole family have been brought up, I well know, in the most exemplary manner ; as indeed what else could any body expect from the paternal solicitude of a man whose native strength of mind kept him at all times superior to the manifold temptations with \rhich his lot naturally surrounded him, and who, in every line he wrote, showed himself the friend of virtue ? Sir, we have had but few real poets from this class of people ; and, alas ! fewer still, who, like Bloomfield, adhered steadily to the virtuous feelings of their lowly youth, when circumstances had introduced him to the dazzle and bustle of the upper world. I honor the memory of Robert Bloomfield. Odoherty. Yes, he was always one of your favorites. I see they have printed here your pretty verses on his death this is right, too * Robert Bloomfield. author of " The Farmer's Boy," a rural poem of great merit, died in 1828, aged fifty-seven. The latter part of his life was clouded with poverty and dejection. M, VOL. I.-32 466 NOCTES AMBROSIAN.E. and some verses of Montgomery's also, which I now recollect to have seen somewhere before. North. In the Sheffield Iris, probably or Alaric Watts' Leeds In- telligencer which, by the way, is a paper of very high merit in a literary point of view ; indeed the best of all the literary Gazettes.* Odoherty. Literary Gazettes ! What a rumpus all that fry have been keeping up about Miss Landon's poetry the Improvisatrice, I mean. North. W"hy, I always thought you had been one of her greatest admirers, Odoherty. Was it not you that told me she was so very handsome ? A perfect beauty, I think you said. Odoherty. And I said truly. She is one of the sweetest little girls in the world, and her book is one of the sweetest little books in the world ; but Jerdau's extravagant trumpeting has quite sickened every body ; and our friend Alaric has been doing rather too much in the same fashion. This sort of stuff plays the devil with any book. Sappho ! and Corinna, forsooth ! Proper humbug ! North. I confess you are speaking pretty nearly my own senti- ments. I ran over the book and I really could see nothing of the originality, vigor, find so forth, they all chatter about. Very elegant, flowing verses they are but all made up of Moore and Byron. Odoherty. Nay, nay, when you look over the Improvisatrice again, I am sure you will retract this. You know very well that I am no great believer in female genius; but nevertheless, there is a certain feminine elegance about the voluptuousness of this book, which, to a certain extent, marks it with an individual character of its own.f North. I won't allow you to review this book, my dear Staudard- * The Sheffield Iris, and the Leeds Intelligencer, then edited by James Montgomery and Alaric Watts, were somewhat literary in 1824, when no other provincial newspapers ever con- tained an original critique upon a new book. It is different now, and there now is nearly as much talent, comparatively speaking, on the British provincial press, as there is on the Lon- don press. James Montgomery thought so well of his shorter literary articles in the Sheffield Iris, that he collected them, in two volumes, as " Prose by a Poet." M. t Odoherty very much flattered L. E. L., when he allowed North to describe her as " very handsome," and " a perfect beauty." She narrowly escaped being a dowdy. Her figure was petite, her manner natural and impulsive, her voice sweet and low, ("an excellent thing in women," if they would only recollect it !) and her whole bearing was that of a child-woman, (she was twenty-two in 1834, and looked seventeen,) delighted with society, and feeling bound to please. Graceful in motion charming in repose, yet by no means handsome, Miss Lundun was about the last person on earth whom, meeting in a drawing-room, you would ?us- pect of authorship. Yet she composed poetry rapidly as her owa Improvisatrice writing her verses, scarcely ever with an emendation, in her small, neat, upright, old-fashioned hand. Quick, lively, and epigrammatic in conversation as she was, I never saw any woman, save cne, and she is the loveliest, in mind or person, whom I have ever known, who was so soli- citous to avoid scandal and mere gossip. " Letty Landon," as she used to like to be called, was the safest person in the vrorld to whom a young author might speak of what he had in his mind to do, for her human sympathies were large, her judgment far riper than her years, and her grasp of mind vigorous and extended. Tell her the plot of a story, or the idea of a poem, and. at once, she would suggest how one might be better evolved in action, how the other might be exalted by particular treatment. M. [On going over this note again, at tlie las' moment, with the press which, like time and tide, waits for no man rattling in my ears, I fim conscious that I have not done full justice to L. E. Landon. Said I that she was not beauti- ful? C'ext vrai but there is a beauty far beyond and far above mere loveliness of feature. There is the beauty of Expression, and if ever mortal possessed it, Letitia Landon did. It ia JAMES GILRAT. bearer, for I perceive you are half in love with the damsel concerned; and under such circumstances, a cool and dispassionate estimate is what nobody could be expected to give least uf all you, you red-hot monster of Munster. Odoherty. No abuse, my old Bully-Rock ! North. Nay, 'tis you that must be called Bully-Rock, now for I suppose you acknowledge the " Munster Fanner " now to be but an- other of youi aliases. I knew you at the first page, man.* No draw- ing of straws before so old a cat. Odoherty. The book is mine, sir. I need keep no secrets from you. North. Gad-a-mercy! I now for the first time begin to suspect chat you had nothing at all to do with it. Odoherty. Even as you please, most worshipful. These trifles do not affect me or my equanimity. North. Impenetrable, imperturbable brazen face ! But get on, man. Odoherty. My eye ! here's Gilray Redivivus. Here's the first number of the reprint of his caricatures ; you must put on your spec- tacles, now, Mr. Christopher. North. Ah ! and that I will, my hearty. Well, this was really well thought on. What a pity that these things should have been sinking into the great gulf! Ha! ha! the old paper-money concerns once more ! Here's Sherry ipsissimus. " Don't take the notes, John Bull ; nobody takes notes now-a-days ; they won't even take mine !" How good this view of the fine old sinner's phiz is and Charlie, too, with his cockade tricolor! Well, these days are over. Odoherty. What a capital Pitt! The pen behind the ear, and all! And John Bull, too why, Liston never sported a better grin- Turn over ay, ay, this will do. North. " The Broad-bottomites getting into the grand costume !" Long live the immortal memory of 1806. Glorious Charlie ! in what a pother you are shaving! Illustrious Lansdowne ! in what majesty dost thou strut ! Profound Ego ! what gravity is in thy self-adoration! Oh dear ! oh dear ! That face of Lord Henry Petty and that toe they are enough to kill a horse ! Odoherty. This grand one of old George, with Bony on his hand, Low vividly it recalls to my memory the laughter of the years that were ! Hang it ! if I were to live a hundred years, I should never see any new thing to affect me in the same manner. How intensely fa- miliar we all were made with the honest, open, well-larded couute- mournful to think of her as she was when first I saw her, in 1823, and knbw that, in ten years from that time, she was lying, far away, in a grave in Africa. In IS'JS, when she was "the iife, grace, and ornament of society," one would scarcely have been extravagant in anticipat- ing that one so gifted and so courted would have worn a coronet, and been the mother of aline i nobles, whose ancestral glories would have been illumined by her wondrous genius. M.] * i4 Captain Rock Detected, by a Munster Farmer," was a reply, somewhat heavy and lura- Deriug, from the pen of the Rev. Mortimer O'Sullivan. M. 468 NOCTES AMBKOSIASLE. nance of Georgius Tertius ! What a solemn, fatherly suavity in nia goggling eyes ! How reverend his bob-major ! how grand his 1: lue ribbon ! how ample his paunch ! What a sweet in-falling of the chin- honest old cock ! North. Excellent monarch ! Pater patrije truly, if ever there was one. Here, again, is a very worthy one ; one of Gilray's very best things, Odoherty. Behold Nap, en gingerbread baker, thrusting a new batch of pie-crust kings into his oven. Ye glorious Josephs, Jeromes, Louises ! where are ye all now ? quite chop-fallen ! Ba- varia ! Wirtemburg ! Baden ! Ah ! Morgan, what queer times these were, my man ! Odoherty. Indeed they were, old royster ; and may they that wish for the like of them find the short cut to Gehenna, say I. We have no political caricaturist now-a-days, North.* North. Why, George Cruikshank does many things better; and yet it is impossible to deny great merit to many of his things about the time of the Queen's row. Alderman Wood was quite a hero for the pencil, and her Majesty was such a heroine.f Of late he, or who- ever feeds the shop windows, has fallen off sdly. The whole batch of the Battier concerns was deplorably stupLl, and as for the Windsor- Park sketches, saw ye ever such a leaden, laborious dulness of repeti- tion ? Odoherty. Pooh! they're very well fitted to the time. Party spirit is very cool at present, and you would not have the party caricatures to be very pointed when that is the case. No, no, the public are taken up with other things, North. North. True, Morgan ; and, moreover, the great circulation lately of exquisite engravings of scenery among us shows decidedly a new and more polished sort of taste spreading among the people. Why, you cannot go into a print-shop now-a-days without seeing a whole swarm of new works coming out in numbers, any one leaf of which would have been looked on as a real wonder some dozen or ten years back. There's Hugh Williams's Greek Engravings, now, have you s^en those ? Odoherty. To be sure I have ; i'faith they are worthy of the drawings themselves, and that is compliment enough. Gad ! what a fine thing we should have thought it, when we were young lads at our classics, to be able to get such divine views of all the scenes the old ones said and sung about, for such a mere trifle of money. The engraving of the Tombs of Plataia ! Well, I really had no notion that the etfeot of * James Gilray, the best caricaturist England has yet produced for H. B. gave actual father than burlesque portraits died in ISIS. M. t Cruikshank's sketches of Queen Caroline were admirably done. They represented her en bun point, as a royal lady of fifty might easily be ; but they did not give her bold glance, nor her imperious frown, nor her jMy face. Their merit consisted in what they did not indi- cate. M. GRECIAN WILLIAMS. 469 that most original and undescribable work of art could have been so nearly given in black and white, to say nothing of the great reduction of scale. North. There are many others of the series not a whit less interest- ing. One, of the Temple of Jupiter Panhellenius in ^Egina, particu- larly struck me and Thebes ! faith, I believe, that is, after all, the very chef-d'oeuvre. But, perhaps, you don't know, Odoherty, what is one of my chiefest delights when I look over this work ; and that is neither more nor less than this, sir, that Williams has had all his en- gravings done by native artists, and young, very young ones mostly. Sir, these things may show themselves by the side of the very best London can produce. The fortunes of Horsburg and Miller are made ; for, as to James Stewart, he, you know, was up long enough before this job. His engraving of Allan's last picture is a grand thing. I never saw an artist who showed greater tact in preserving the minutiae of his painter's peculiar touches. Odoherty, Stewart is a fine handy lad, and a very modest one, too So good luck to him, and here's a bumper to Williams.* North. Welshman though he be, he is an honor to Scotia here he goes. His Views of Athens will live as long as her memory. " Shall I unmoved behold the hallow'd scene "Which others rave of, though they know it not? Though here no more Apolio haunt his grot, And thou, the Muses' seat, art now their grave Some gentle spirit still pervades the spot, Sighs in the gale, keeps silence in the cave, And glides with glassy foot o'er yon melodious wave !" Odoherty. Byron! hum! North. Come, come, none of your sneers. Hugh Williams's prints are certainly the best illustrations any one can bind up with Byron's poems. Others give you views, caricatures, (call them as you will,) * Like Sir William Allan, Williams had lived much in foreign lands, and illustrated foreign subjects by his pencil. After travelling in Greece and Italy for some years, he fixed his resi- dence in Edinburgh, in 1818. Lockhart, speaking of his views in Greece, says, " It is there, I may be wrosg in confessing it, it is there, among the scattered pillars of Thebes or Corinth or in full view of all the morn glorious remains of more glorious Athens or looking from the ivied or mouldering arches of Delphi, quite up through the mountain mists to tlir summits of Parnassus, and the far-off windings of the Castalian brook it is there, that the footsteps of men appear to have stamped a grander sanctity even on the most magnificent forms of nature It is there that Williams seems first to have felt, and it is in his transcripts of these glorious scenes, that ^ jiyself have been sensible of feeling the whole fulness and awfulness of the works of the Creator 'All this magnificent effect of power, The earth we tread, the sky which we behold By day, and all the pomp which night reveals." " A view of Atl ens, and another of Castri, were greatly praised by Lockhart, in 1819, who predicted, what was speedily accomplished, that Williams would take a high place us a laud- leap ; painter M. 4-70 NOCTES AMBROSIAN.E. of his personages, more or less happy, but this is nothing. William? has been, like the poet, inspired by the sky, the mountains, the ruins of Greece, and the kindred stamp of their inspiration looks you in the face whichever way you turn among their works. Odoherty. I was glad to see the prints were so small, for this was the purpose I at once thought of turning them to. North. Upon the same principle I take Thomson of Dudding- ston's Fast Castle to be the finest and most satisfactory accompani- ment for the story of Lammermoor and Nasmyth's Old Prison of Edinburgh stands ditto, ditto, for the Heart of Mid-Lothian.* Odoherty. I wish Williams would give us a series of his Italian things too and particularly his Sicilian ones for Agrigeutum and Syracuse are, after all, less known to most people than any other old places of any thing like the same interesting character. North. People may rail about boyish tastes, and what not, as long as they have a mind. I confess I like a book all the better for its being illustrated. Perhaps 'tis my imagination cooling, Ensign ; but there, for example, was Basil Hall's book about South America : I confess I would fain have had a few cuts of his San Martins, O'Hig- giuses, and the rest of them. Odoherty. And I own I should have liked to see what sort of a figure old Cochrane cuts in his outlandish riggery. He was a rum one enough in that long blue tog, and low-browed, broad-brimmed castor, as we used to see him lounging about town. North. By some accident I never saw Lord Cochrane in my life- He is a iiobie fellow mad, of course but that's what he can't help. Odoherty. Was it madness that dished him ! North. Certainly, the only thing that dished him was the denying of the hoax, in the way he did, in the House of Commons. Had ho stood firm on his feet, and said what was God's truth, that he was a sailor, and not a moral philosopher; and that if he had acted wrong, his error consisted merely in doing cleverly and successfully what thousands both of the most holy saints and the most honorable sin- ners in the land were trying to do every day ; if he had stood up with a bold face, and spoken plain common sense after this fashion, I should like to know who would seriously have thought a pin the worse of him, at least for more than a week or two.f Not I, for one. But the * Alexander Nasmyth, in 1824, was the venerable father of landscape painting in Scotland. Lockhart said, " There is a delightful sweetness in the old man's pencil, and assuredly there is in it as yet no want of vigor." The best portrait of Robert Burns was painted by Nasmyth. This fine old man died in 1840, aged eighty-three. His son Peter, who settled in London at the age of twenty, and bad won the honorable title of " The English Hobbima," died in 1831. --M. t Lord Cochrane, who had entered the British Navy at an early age, distinguished himself by his exploits in the war with France, particularly in the Basque Roads, for which he was) created Knight of the Bath, was very popular on his return to London, and was elected member for Westminster. In February, 1814, he was accused of being concerned in a Stock- Exchange scheme, intended to raise the funds by spreading simultaneous reports cf Napoleon's LORD COCUBANE. 471 truth k, that every one thing he ever did in this country after he be- gan to think himself a politician, was a perfect proof of madness. Odoherty. Well, 'tis lucky he has got into a walk, where, what you are pleased to call madness, does betier than all the wisdom in the world would do. Will he ever come home again, think ye ? North. I don't know. Many queer stones are going about. Some say he has done things about the English shipping that would land him inextricably in lawsuits if he showed his nose here. Others, again, maintain that he has arranged all these concerns of late, and that it would be nothing strange if he should be seen parading Pall- Mali within this twelvemonth.* For my part, I know nothing of the matter. Captain Hall could tell, no doubt. Odoherty. Ay, ay ; but Hall was a great deal too knowing to tell half what he knew about some of those folks in his book. North. To be sure he was; and, in particular, I have heard that his MS. Journal could furnish a very extraordinary bundle of Cochran- iana, over and above what the book sets forth. Well, we can't quar- rel with this reserve. Odoherty. Bless your soul, I quarrel with nothing. I think Hall's book is a perfect model in its way. Great art in both the whole- speaking part of it, and the half-speaking. death. He was indicted for complicity herein, in June, 1814, convicted, sentenced to stand in the pillory, opposite the Royal Exchange, for an hour, to be imprisoned for twelve months, and to pay a fine of 1000. All his efforts to obtain a new trial were in vain. On July 5th. a motion for his expulsion from the House of Commons was carried by a (ministerial) majority. On the 16th, he was re-elected. The indignity of putting him in the pillory was waived by the Government. Soon after, he was solemnly turned out of the Knightly Order of the Hath, and deprived of his rank in the Navy. After having been some time in prison, he escaped, (on March 15, 1815,) and went down to the House of Commons, to take his seat for Westminster ; but before he could take the oaths, was re-captured by the Marshal of the prison. On the Very day that his sentence expired, Lord Cochrane speeded to the House, and was just in time to defeat, by his single vote, an intended increase of 6000 a year to the Duke of Cum- berland, one of his bitterest opponents. The 1000 fine was paid by a penny subscription among his constituents. He left Parliament in 1818, and went abroad on foreign service, first in South America, and afterwards in Greece. In 1829, he permanently fixed his abode tn London. He succeeded to the Earldom of Dundonald, and William IV. (himself a sailor) had him restored to the station in the navy which he would have occupied had he remained in the gervice. He was also reinstated in his position as Knight of the Bath. In 1814, the King of Anns had proceeded to Henry the Seventh's Chapel, in Westminster Abbey, removed Lord Cochrane's banner and other insignia from his stall, kicked them down the chapel steps, and into the street. A popular writer says : Had he been there in person, the remainder of the degradation (hacking off his knight's spurs by a butcher with a cleaver) would most probably have been performed or attempted. Oddly enough, the kicked-out banner Was picked up, in the street, by one of Cochrane's friends, taken home, and carefully preserved. This was about forty years ago. Time rolled on Cochrane eminently distinguished himself in South America and Greece he had returned to England he had become End of Dundonald, by the death of his father it was felt that he had been harshly dealt with the political asperities which pro- secuted and persecuted him had subsided a liberal king was on the throne a liberal govern- ment ruled the country and tardy justice was done, by restoring Cochrane to the honors from which he had been degraded. His banner was duly reinstated in its old place in Westminster Abbey, ami it actually was the identical banneret which, two-and twenty jvar< airo. had betn unceremoniously kicked out. Cochrane's friend who had picked it up, evidently ai-trd on the old saw which says, " Keep a thing for seven jears, and it will be sure to come in useful." He kept the document for treble that period, but was rewarded. In 1S54, when a commander was required for the British fleet in the Baltic, the Earl of Dundonald (Cochrane) solicited to be employed, but his seventy-nine years (he was born in 1775) were so many reasons against It. M. * He did return, four years after this date. M 4:72 NOCTES A1TBBOSIAN.E. North. The Edinburgh Reviewer of Basil, whether he was S'u Jamie or not,* devil cares, made a grand attempt, to persuade tlu world that the weight of the Captain's authority lay entirely his own way as to the question of revolutions in South America, and, by im- plication, elsewhere ; but as you have seen the work, 1 need not tell you this is just another trick of the old trade. Odoherty. And what else should it be? He, of course, gave nc opinion about any other revolution question except that on which all the world has all along been exactly of the same way of thinking. I mean the total impossibility and absurdity of every scheme for re- establishing the government of Spain over her great American colo- nies. North. Exactly so he speaks decidedly, as he should do, upon this head, and as to all the details of the different humbug constitutions that have been knocked up and down like so many nine-pins in that quarter during the last ten or twelve years, he says, in spite of Sir Jamie, he says not one word but what is perfectly consistent with tho truth and justice of the view? which I have recently been putting forth as to those concerns. He, in fact, hints continually his total con- tempt for every thing connected with these new establishments, except only the individual merits (such he esteems them) of San Martin in Chili and Iturbidef in Mexico. The wild and cruel ruin which, with scarcely one exception, the insurgent party has everywhere heaped on the private and domestic fortunes of those opposed to them, or sus- pected of being opposed to them in opinion, the brutal sulky rage with which eveiy thing venerable for rank, station, refinement, and virtue, has, in a thousand instances, been sacrificed to the mean and jealous demon of Liberalism, the outrages on age, elegance, loveli- ness, the rash, remorseless villany which has trampled all that has ennobled the soil into the dust of degradation, nay, of absolute misery, =-of all this, sir, Captain Hall, being a Scottish gentleman and a British officer, could not possibly think a whit differently from all the others of the same class of men I have ever happened to converse with on any of the topics in question, nor has he said one syllable that looks as if he had done so ; though I have no sort of doubt the critique in the Edinburgh Review, and Sir James's puff parliamentary, were both of them dictated in some measure by a skulking sort of notion thai the brutum vulyus might be bamboozled into the belief that Captain Hall had really written a Whiggish book touching South America. * " Sir Jamie" was Sir James Mackintosh, of course. Basil Hall's book was his " Extracts from a Journal written on the Coasts of Chili, Peru, and Mexico, in the years 1S'20, 13'21, and 1822." M. t Augustus Iturhide, who was Emperor of Mexico for a short period, (proclaimed May ISth 1S?2, and abdicating in Mnrch, 1S'23,) retired to Italy on a large pension, conditional on hi- net returning to Mexico. He returned, after a year's absence, to attempt the recovery t power, was proscribed, betrayed, captured, and sentenced to death. He was shot, July IJUi. 1932, aged forty. M. BASIL HALL. 473 Odoherty. Does Sir James owe Constable any money ? North. Not knowing, can't say. Odoherty. Well, well. The Captain should certainly have given us a few prints of his heroes. He had some grand affairs in his Loo-choo book. North. Ay, and so he had. By the by, have you heard that it turns out that he was completely taken in by those petticoated prigs ? That his primitive Loo-choo lads are now understood to be, without exception, the prettiest set of old rascally cunning swindlers that ever infested the Yellow Sea? Odoherty. I had not heard of the humbug being ripped up. Well, I am sorry to hear this, for I really had been much affected with the simplicity of their manners.* The print of the leave-taking, in particular, was rather too much for my feelings them booing and Basil booing them doing him, and him Loo-chooing them. 'Twas a fine picture of humanity on the umbrella system. North. Ay, ay. Well, he has got hold of people whom he could understand this time, and he has done himself justice. His book, sir, is, after all, one of the few sprigs of 1824, which won't wither with the season. I back Captain HaU's South America, and Cap- tain Rock Detected, against any three octavos, or duodecimos either, of the growth. Odoherty. Have you seen a Tour in Germany lately published by Constable's people ? I hear 'tis rather a clever thing. North. I was reading some parts of it over again this very even- ing. I like the book very well upon the whole. Who writes it ? Odoherty. A Mr. Russell, I hear ; a young man who has just been called to the bar here. North. I hoped it might turn out to be a very young man, for otherwise there would be something offensive in the style occa- sionally. Cursedly spruce and pointed you understand me. Odoherty. O ay ; but I hear this is a genuine clever fellow, so one must overlook these li ttle things, and expect better hereafter. North. Why, as to that, I made no objection to any thing, but a little occasional false taste in style a thing which, in an early work like this, is of no sort of consequence. The stuff of his book is good, and his feelings are good throughout. We must get Kempferhausen to bring him here some night for being a Ger- man Nihil Germanici a se alien urn you understand me? Odoherty. Yes, yes, of course, the lad has laid his lugs in our * When Captain Basil Hall visited Napoleon at St. Helena, on his return from a voyage of discovery, in which ho had visited the Loo-Choo Islands, he innitioned that the people had no offensive weapons. " Man Dieu ! " paid the Emporor. " how do they fight ? " When i, wards spoke, in presence of Mr. Vansittart, then Chancellor of the Exchequer, of thek having no money, the financier abruptly asked, " How can they p:iy the tuxes '; " M. 474: NOCTES AMBROSIAN^. friend's Steinwein long ere this time of day. Well, the Germanic faction is getting on ; this gentleman and young Carry le* he who translated Meister are two pretty additions to Keinpferhausen's battalion. To be serious, North, we shall run some risk of inun- dation. Have you seen the last London Magazine, how bitter they are on the poor William Meister ? North. Not I, i'faith I see none of these concerns not I. What are they saying ? Odoherty. Oh ! abusing the Germans up-hill and down-dale, buzzing like fiery myriads of sand flies. North. And stinging ? Odoherty. Not knowing, can't say. North. Well, I should have thought my friend Opium would have kept them from this particular piece of nonsense but that's true too, the whole may be one of his quizzes. He was always fond of a practical joke, hang him. Odoherty. He says old Goethe is an idiot this is pretty abuse, surely. North. Ay, ay, about abuse as well as other things, 'tis a true saying enough that most people consider it as "no loss, that a friend gets." Odoherty. You would disapprove, I suppose, of the attack on De Quincey in the John Bull Magazine ? f North. Disapprove ! I utterly despised it, and so, no doubt, did he. They say he is no scholar, because he has never published any * In 1894 Thomas Carlyle was a yotmg man, and if not a better, by all means a more intel- ligible writer than he has been for the last fifteen years. At one time, Carlyle could and did write plain English how beautiful, in its Sax n simplicity, is his Life of Schiller! but he has Germanized and spoiled his style, until it almost requires a glossary to turn it into English. M. t In Blackwood, for July, 1824, was a poetical epistle, by the renowned "Timothy Tickler," to the Editor of the John Bull Magazine, on an article in hig first number. This article (not named by Maea, though sufficiently indicated) professed to be a portion of the veritable Auto- biography of Byron, which was burnt, and was called "My Wedding Night." It appeared to relate, in detail, every thing that occurred in the twenty-four hours immediately succeeding that in which Byron was married. It had plenty of coarseness, and some to spare ; it went into particulars such as hitherto had been given only by Faublas ; and it had, notwithstand- ing, many phrases and some facts which evidently did not belong to a mere fabricator. Some years after I compared this ' Wedding Night" with what I had all assurance of having been transcribe'! from the actual MSS. of Byron, and was persuaded that the magazine writer must have had the actual statement before him, or hive had a perusal of it. The writer in lilack- wood declared his conviction that it really was Byron's own writing, and said " But that you. sir, a wit. and a scholar like yon, Should not blush to produce what he blushed not to do Take your compliment, youngster this doubles (almost) The sorrow that rose when his honor was lost." Why the John Bull Magmine should have been patted on the back by Maga, can only be accounted for by the belief that Maginn was chief writer in it as he was, nt the same time, in Slackwood. Murray is said to have declared that >l My Wedding Night" could only have been snppl ed by Maginn. The John Bull Magazine was dropped after the sixth or seventh number. M. DR. PARR. 475 verbal criticisms on any Greek authors * what stuff ! then, I take it, the best scholars in the world are such creatures as Dr. Parr rub- bish that I honestly confess, I never used to think any sensible man would condescend to class much higher than a Petralogist or a Odoherty. I'll defy you to fill up that sentence go on. North. Parr indeed ! Persuade me that that goggling ass knows any thing about the true spirit of Athenian antiquity ! That egre- gious consumer of shag, a fit person to analyze the soul of Sap- pho ! that turnip-headed buffoon in a cassock, able to follow the wit of Aristophanes ! no, no, sir no tricks upon travellers. What has he done ? What has he done ? That is the question. Odoherly. Why, all the world knows what he has done he has drunk a great deal of bad beer, smoked a great deal of bad tobacco, uttered a great deal of bad jokes, and published, thank Heaven ! not a great deal of dull prose, out-caricaturing the pomposity of Dr. Johnson's first and worst style, accompanied with some score or two of notes in English, and Notulce in Latin, of which it is entirely im- possible for any human creature to decide which is the most con- temptible their strutting boldness of language, their blown-up in- anity of thought, or the vile self-satisfied grin -of their abominable psedogical republicanism a disgusting old fellow, sir ! North. ~0ld ! Is that an epithet of contempt, Mr. Ensign ? Odoherty. Beg pardon a disgusting fellow North. Thou hast said it. An excellent clergyman in his parish, an excellent schoolmaster in his school, but in his character of a wit and an author, one of the most genuine feather-beds of humbug that ever filled up a corner in the world all which, however, is no matter of ours wherefore pass we on. I would not have thought it worth while to name his name, even to you, had it not been that I lately remarked sundry attempts to bolster up his justly battered repu- tation, not in the writings of any of his own filthy party, for that would have been quite right, but in one of Disraeli's recent works which of them I at this moment forget so help me, my memory, Morgan, even my memory begins to * In De Quincey's Literary Beminiscences (Boston edition, -Vol. II.) is a chapter of 44 pages, called "Libellous Attack by a London Journal," which U a specimen of word-cptnoiog ami sentence-making, "full of found and fury, but signifying nothing." De Quincey }'... dished up in the Jo/in null Magazine as one of the " Humbugs of the Age," and tho article had been repnbiished in a newspaper in the provincial locality where his family were then re- filling, he being in London honorably tiding his pen for their and his own subsistence. Thu chapter treats of nearly every topic except that which gave it a title of Romish o:>- of Wordsworth's imagery of Paley's Moral Philosophy of duelling of the pain of bring libelled of courts of honor of pugilistic contests of the Duke of Wellington of other mat- ters. But it never mentioned what the ' libellous attack " was, -nor did he once name the jour- nal which made it. All we learn is that he was attacked in some publication, of which ho bought a copy in Smithfieid. This is so thoroughly De Quinceyish, (like Mrs. Nickleby bring- ing in persons and things quite independent of the matter on the tapis,) that of course I can- not complain of his thus writing " an infinite deal of nothing." M. 476 NOCTE8 AMBROSIANJE. Odoherty. Stuff stuff stuff ! ! What's the use of what they call a good memory ? North. You will perhaps think more of that, young gentleman, when your hairs, like mine Odoherty. Pooh ! pooh ! I've worn falsities these five years. But what signifies your grand memory ? Things really of impor- tance to any man's concerns, are by that man remembered other things are of no consequence. I, for my part, find it is always much less trouble to fill up the details of any piece of business from the creation of fancy, than by cudgelling one's brains for the minutiye of fact in fact, sir, I despise fact. North. Aha ! my lad, veiy pretty talking all this ! But, as Cole- ridge says in his Friend, we always think the least about what we feel the most. In the heroic ages, they had not so many words as we have now for expressing the different shades and shapes of per- sonal beauty or personal valor ; there was less talk about chivalry among the Coeur-de-Lions than among a pack of dandy hussars ; and from what lips does one hear so much about honor as a puppy Whig's ? But I'm weary of talking to you, Ensign. Here, draw another cork. I desired our friend, the Ambrosian, to have him touched with the ice just touched. Ay, that's your sort. What a satisfactory thing this is now ! Odoherty. Sam, I suppose * ay, I thought so from the twist of your lips. North. Now, take your pen in your hand like a good diligent lad, and touch me off a neat handy little article on this same Tour in Germany. Odoherty. Me ! Bless you, I have not read one word of it. North. Never heed begin with a sounding paragraph about things in general ; at the close of each paragraph you shall have a bumper. Yea, stick we to the old bargain. Odoherty. Pretty little pebbles of paragraphs we shall be having ; well, here goes ! But to save time and trouble, tell me, since you have read the book, what you really think of it honestly, now, Kit. North. Well, well fill my glass again, boy. 'Tis an excellent little book, I assure you, Sir Morgan. The author appears to have spent some time at Jena, and after making himself well acquainted with the language, to have travelled considerably over the north of Germany, and a little in the south also. He has given, in what will probably be the most amusing part of his book to common readers, a very graphic account indeed of the mode of life prevalent among that ap- parently queerest of all queer orders of beings, the German students. * Jlr. Samuel Anderson, then a wine-merchant in Edinburgh, afterwards by favor of Lord Brougham, Register of the Court of Chancery in London. M. PRUSSIA IN 1820-2. 477 He has entered into full and, ex facie, accurate details of their extra- vagant, enthusiastic, absurd, overbearing, hobbletehoy existence, their pride, their folly, their clubs, their duels, their whiskers, their tobacco-pipes, their schnaps, their shirt-collars, and their enormous jack-boots. All other bodies of students that I have seen or heard of, would appear to be but milk-and-water shadows of their aca- demical absurdity and yet, strange to say, it appears to be by no means clear, that a German university is not at this moment the place where the most extensive and the most accurate learning may be acquired at the cheapest rate. Sir, this affair seems to be made up of one bundle of anomalies. You must, on reflection, read the whole of the chapters he has devoted to its consideration, ere you review them. Odoherty. If their way of thinking be either more queer or more laudable than what we had to do with at old Trin. Coll. Dub., I shall consider myself as a rump and dozen in my victim's debt. North. As to that, not knowing, can't say. But the really im- portant part of the book is its politics, and it was this that made roe wish you should do something for it in Maga. Sir, we have been much abused by the people who have written and spoken about Germany for the last five or six years. Odoherty. As how? North. Why, for example, we have been deaved with the hoarse cry, that the King of Prussia has behaved in ah 1 manner of beastly ways to his people. We have been told that he has promised to do every thing for them, and that he has done nothing : and this sort of thing has been repeated so often by all the regiment of bawlers, from Brougham the Bold downwards, that honest people have real- ly been dinned into some sort of belief, that the thing must be so. But here we have the facts Sir Morgan Odoherty, here we have the plain facts of the case ; and I assure you, I think the author of this book would have deserved no slight commendation had his work consisted merely of this one exceUent expose. He has shown, sir, in the most complete and satisfactory manner, that in so far as it has been possible for the government of Prussia to increase the political privileges of the people of Prussia, the thing actually has been done.* The king and his ministers have reformed to a very great extent but they have reformed like men of sense, wisdom and ex- perience not after the fashion of your Bolivars, your Riegos, your Robespierres, your Pepes, your Thistlewoods. Here is the rub. Odoherty. A real defence of the Prussian government must be of * This was Frederick- William III., father of the presenj; King. The convulsions which hook the Prussian throne to its foundation-!, in 1S-1S, may in some small decree be tnuvil to hip refusal to grant those constituti >iml privileges which had long been promised to bis people, and which they were well fitted to exercise. Jl. 478 NOCTES AMBROSIAN.E. high importance at present. Whereabouts is this subject taken up ? North. Give me the book ay, here it is. I shall be happy to hear it once again ; so read aloud begin where you see the mark of my pencil. Odoherty. Well, if it must be so " The Prussian government is usually decried " North. That's the passage I mean. Odoherty. And a pretty long one it seems to be. North. No matter ; I assure you, you will find Mr. Kussell's prose much more entertaining than my prosing. Get on. Odoherty (reads).* " The Prussian government is usually decried amongst us, as one of the most intolerant and illiberal of Germany, attentive only to secure the implicit and unthinking obedience of its subjects, and therefore encouraging every thing which may retain them in ignorance and degradation. Every Briton, from what he has heard, must enter Prussia with this feeling ; and he must blush for his hastiness, when he runs over the long line of bold reforms and liberal ameliorations, which were introduced into the whole frame of society and public relations in Prussia, from the time when the late Chancellor Prince Hardenberg was replaced, in 1810, at the head of the government. They begun, in fact, with the battle of Jena ; that defeat was, in one sense, the salvation of Prussia. The degradation and helplessness into which it plunged the monarchy, while they roused all thinking men to see that there must be something wrong in existing relations, brought likewise the necessity of stu- pendous efforts to make the .resources of the diminished kingdom meet both its own expenditure and the contributions levied on it by the conqueror. A minister was wanted ; for domineering France would not allow Hardenberg, the head of the Anti-G-allican party, and listened to only when it was too late to retain his office, and he retired to Riga. Prenez Monsieur Stein, said Na- poleon to the king, c'est un homme ffesprit; and Stein was made minister. In spirit he was a minister entirely suited to the times ; but he wanted cau- tion, and forgot that in politics, even in changing for the better, some con- sideration must be paid to what for centuries has been bad and universal. H^, was not merely bold, he was fearless ; but he was thoroughly despotic in his character ; having a good object once in his eye, he rushed on to it re- gardless of the mischief which he might be doing in his haste, and tearing up and throwing down all that stood in his way, with a vehemence which even the utility of his purpose did not always justify. " Stein was too honest a man long to retain the favor of France. An in- tercepted letter informed the cabinet of St. Cloud that he was governing for Prussian, not for French purposes; and the king was requested to dismiss la nomme Stein. He retired to Prague, and amused himself with reading lec- tures on history to his daughters. His retirement was followed by a sort of interregnum of ministers, who could contrive nothing except the cession of Silesia to France, instead of paying the contributions. From necessity, Har- denberg was recalled ; and whoever will take the trouble of going over the principal acts of his administration will acknowledge, not only that he was * See Tonr in Germany, in 1820, 1821, 1822, (Edinburgh, Constable, 2 vols. 12mo.,) volume second, p. 110, et seq. C. If. PRUSSIA UNDER IJARDENBERG. 479 the ablest minister Prussia has ever possessed, but likewise that few states- men, in the unostentatious path of internal improvement, have effected in so brief an interval, so many weighty and beneficial changes interrupted as he was by a war of unexampled importance, which he began with caution, prose- cuted with energy, and terminated in triumph. He received Prussia stripped of half its extent, its honors blighted, its finances ruined, its resources at once exhausted by foreign contributions, and depressed by ancient relations among the different classes of society, which custom had consecrated, and selfishness was vehement to defend. He has left it to his king, enlarged in extent, and restored to its fame, with a well-ordered system of finance, not more defective or extravagant than the struggle for the redemption of the kingdom rendered necessary ; and, above all, he has left it freed from those restraints which bound up the capacities of its industry, and were the sources at once of personal degradation and national poverty. Nor ought it to be for- gotten, that, while Hardenberg had often to contend, in the course of these re- forms, now with the jealousies of town corporations, and now with the united influence and prejudices of the aristocracy, he stood in the difficult station of a foreigner in the kingdom which he governed, unsupported by family descent or hereditary influence. His power rested on the personal confidence of the king in his talents and honesty, and the confidence which all of the people who ever thought on such matters reposed in the general spirit of his policy. ; by a crowd of other reforms, all tending to the same end, to letloose the ener- gies of all classes of the people. :md bring them into a more comfortable social relation to each other. While the peasantry were not only set free, but con- verted into landholders, the aristocracy were sternly deprived of that exemp- tion from taxation which, more than any thing else, renders them odiou-i in every country where it has been allowed to remain. They struggled hard to keep their estates beyond tha reach of the land tax, but the king and Harden- ber.,' were inflexible : 4 We hope,' says the royal edict, 'that those to whom this measure will apply Will reflect, that, in future, they will be free from the reproach of escaping public burdens ut the expense of their fellow-subjects. Th . ;y will likewise reflect, that the tax to be laid upon them will not equal the expense to which they would be put, if called onto perform the milit .; . hich originally burdened their estates.' The whole financial acquired an uniformity and equality of distribution, which simplified it to all, an i diminished the expense of collection, while it increased the revenue, all, that anomalous system, under which every province had its own : , and its peculiar taxes, was destroyed, and Hardenberg. after lion, carried through one uniform and universal system for the whole in Diarchy. This enabled him to get rid of another monstrous evil. Under the miserable system of financial separation, every j rovinco and every town waa surrounded with custom-houses, taxing and watching t ; ' ions of its neighbors, as if they came from fon-igii countries, and dis.>nraging all in- ternal communication. The whole was swept a.vay. At the .same time, the THE OEWEKKSTECEK. 483 national expenditure in its various departments, the ways and means, the state of the public debt, and the funds for meeting it, were given forth with a pub- licity which produced confidence in Prussia, and alarm, as setting a bad ex- ample, in some less prudent cabinets. Those amongst ourselves who clamor UK LSI loudly against the misconduct of the Prussian government, will allow, that the secularization and sale of the church lands was a liberal and patriotic measure ; those who more wisely think, that an arbitrary attack on any spe- i property endangers the security of all property, will lament that the public necessities should have rendered it advisable. The servitudes of thirl- age, * brewing beer, and distilling spirituous liquors, existed in their most oppressive form, discouraging agriculture, and fostering the ruinous spirit of monopoly. They were abolished with so unsparing a band, that, though in- demnification was not absolutely refused, the forms and modes of proof of loss sustained to found a claim to it were of such a nature, as to render it difficult to be procured, and trifling when made good. This was too unsparing. ' ' In the towns there was much less to be done ; it was only necessary to release their arts and manufactures from old restraints, and rouse their citi- zens to an interest in the public weal. Hardcnberg attempted the first by a measure on which more popular governments have not yet been bold enough to venture, however strongly it has been recommended by political econo- mists ; he struck down at one blow all guildries and corporations, not those lar'gor forms, which include all the citizens of a town, and constitute a bar- our/h, but those subordinate forms which regard particular classes and profes- sions. But, whether it was from views of finance, or that he found himself compelled, by opposing interests, to yield something to the old principle, that the public is totally unqualified to judge who serves them well and who serves thom badly, but must have some person to make the discovery for them, the chancellor seems to have lost his way in this measure. He left every man at liberty to follow every profession, free from the fetters of an incorporated body ; but he converted the government into one huge, universal corporation, and allowed no man to pursue any profession without annually procuring and paying for the permission of the state. The Gewfrbsteuer, introduced in 1810, is a yearly tax on every man who follows a profession, on account of that pro- fession ; it is like our ale and pedlar licenses, but it is universal. So far, it is only financial; but the license by no means follows as a matter of course, and here reappears the incorporation spirit ; every member of those professions, which are held to concern more nearly the public weal, must produce a certifi- cate of the provincial government, that he is duly qualified to exercise it. Doctors and chimney-sweeps, midwives and ship-builders, notaries-public and mill-Wrights, book-sellers and makers of water-pipes, with a host of other equally homogeneous professionalists, must be guaranteed by that depart- ment of the government within whose sphere their occupation is mostnatu- rully included, as perfectly fit to execute their professions. The system is cum- bersome, but it wants, at least, the exclusive esprit de, corpn of corporations. " The other and more important object, that of rousing the citizens to an active concern in the affairs of their own community, had already been ac- complished by Stein in his Stfidfforrfn i/ny, or constitution for the cities, which was completed and promulgated in 1808. He did not go the length of annual parliaments and universal suffrage, for the magistracy is elected only every third year ; but the elective franchise is so widely distributed among all resi- * Let those who accuse tho Prussian povenimont of di>' .t of it sitlij.vt* ivili-ct, tluit if was only in 1799, thai, iho I'.ritish I'arlinmfUt thought of contriving means to rescue the agriculture of Scotland from this servitude. B. NOCTK8 A5JBROSIAN.fi. dent householders, of a certain income or rental, that none are excluded whom it would be proper to admit. Nay, complaints are sometimes heard from persons of the upper ranks, that it compels them to give up paying any attention to civic affairs, because it places too direct and overwhelming an in- fluence in the hands of the lower orders. There can be no doubt. howe\ < i . (. the good which it has done, were there nothing else than the publicity which it has bestowed on the management and proceedings of public and charitable institutions. The first merchant of Breslau, the second city of the monarchy, told me it was impossible to conceive what a change it had effected for the better, and what interest every citizen now took in the public affairs of the corporation, in hospitals and schools, in roads, and bridges, and pavements, and water-pipes. ' Nay,' added he, 'by our example, we have even compelled the Catholic charities to print accounts of their funds and proceedings ; for, without doing so, they could not have stood against us in public confidence.' This is the true view of the matter ; nor ia there any danger that the demo- cratic principle will be extravagant in the subordinate communities, while the despotic principle is so strong in the general government of the country. " Such has been the general spirit of the administration of Prussia, since the battle of Jena; and it would be gross injustice to her government to deny, that in all this it has acted with an honest and effective view to the public welfare, and has betrayed any thing but a selfish or prejudiced attachment to old and mischievous relations; that was no part of the character of either Stein or Hardenberg. The government is in its forms a despotic one ; it wields a censorship ; it is armed with a strict and stern police ; and, in one sense, the property of the subject is at its disposal, in so far as the portion of his goods which he shall contribute to the public service depends only on the pleasure of the government ; but let not our just hatred of despotic forms make us blind to substantial good. Under these forms, the government, not more from policy than inclination, has been guilty of no oppressions which might place it in dangerous opposition to public feeling or opinion; while it has crowded its administration with a rapid succession of ameliorations, which gave new life to all the weightiest interests of the state, and brought all classes of society into a moie natural array, and which only ignorance or prejudice can deny to have been equally beneficial to the people, and honor- able to the executive. I greatly doubt, whether there be any example of a popular government doing so much real good in so short a time, and with so much continued effect. "When a minister roots out abuses which impede individual prosperity, gives free course to the arts and industry of the coun- try, throws open to the degraded the paths of comfort and respectability, an 1 brings down the artificial privileges of the high to that elevation which nature demands in every stable form of political society ; while he thus pre- pares a people for a popular government, while, at the same time, by this v ry preparation, he creates the safest and most unfailing means of < ing it. he stands much higher as a statesman and philosopher, than the minister who rests satisfied with the easy praise, and the more than doubtful experiment, of giving popular forms to a i eople which knows neither how to value nor exercise them. The statesmen of this age, more than of any ot her, ought to have learned the folly of casting the political pearl before swine. " This is no defence of despotism ; it is a statement of the ^ood which the ;.m government has done, and an elucidation of the general spirit of improvement in which it has acted ; but it furnishes no reason for retaining ^potic forms under which this good has been wrought out, so soon as the public wishes require, and the public mind is, in some mi-aMirf, capable of using more liberal and manly instruments. On the other baud, it is most un- PRUSSIAN POLITICS. 485 fair (and yet, in relation to Prussia, nothing is more common) to forget what a monarch has done for his subjects, in our hatred of the fact that he has done it without their assistance, and to set down his government as a mere n. stilish, uiiil debasing tyranny. The despotism of Prussia stands as far above that of Naples, or Austria, or Spain, as our own constitution stands above tlie mutilated Charter of France. The people are personally attached to their kinjr ; and, in regard to his government, they feel and recognise the real good which has been done infinitely more strongly than the want of the unknown good which is yet to be attained, and which alone can secure the continuance of all the rest. They have not enjoyed the political experience and education which would teach them the value of this security, and even the better informed classes tremble at the thought of exacting it by popular clamor, because they see it must speedily come of itself. From the Elbe to the O.ler, I found nothing to make me believe in the existence of that gen- eral discontent and ripeness for revolt which have been broadly asserted, more than once, to exist in Prussia ; and it would be wonderful to find a people to whom all political thinking is new, who knew nothing of political theories, and suffer no personal oppressions, ready to raise the shout of insurrection. '' To this it is commonly added, that the general discontent is only forcibly kept down by the large standing army. The more I understood the constitu- tion of the Prussian army, the more difficult I found it to admit this con- stantly repeated assertion. Not only is every male of a certain age, a regu- larly trained soldier, the most difficult of all populations to be crushed by force, when they are once warmed by a popular cause, but by far the great- er part of this supposed despotic instrument consists of men taken, and taken only for a time, from the body of citizens against whom' they are to be em- ployed. There is always, indeed, a very large army on foot, and the foreign relations of Prussia render the maintenance of a large force indispensable ; but it is, in fact, a militia. ' We have no standing army at all, properly speaking,' said an officer of the Guards to me ; ' what may be called our Stan ling army is, in reality, nothing but a school, in which all citizens, with- out exception, between twenty and thirty-two years of age, are trained to be soldiers. Three years are reckoned sufficient for this purpose. A third of oar army is annually changed. Those who have served their three years are sent home, from what is called the War Reserve, and, in case of war, are first called out. Their place is supplied by a new draught from the young men who have not yet been out ; and so it goes on.' Surely a military force -tituted is not that to which a despot can well trust for enchaining a Struggling people; if popular feeling were against him, these men would it along with them to his very standard. I cannot help thinking, that, if it were once come to this between the people and government of Prussia, it would not be iu his own bayonets, but in those of Russia and Austria, that Frederick William would have to seek a trustworthy ally. ' It will never do to judge of the general feeling of a country from the mad tenets of academical youths, (who are despised by none more heartily than by the people themselves,) or from the still less pardonable excesses of hot-headed teachers. When I was in Berlin, a plot, headed by a schoolmas- ter, was detected in Stargard, in Pomerania ; the object was, to proclaim the Spanish Constitution, and assassinate the ministers and other persons of weight who ini^ht naturally be supposed to be hostile to the innovation. This no more proves the Prussian people to be ripe for revolt, than it proves them to be ready to be murderers. " In judging of the political feelings of a country, a Briton is apt to be de- ceived by his own political habits still more than by partial observation. The 486 . NOCTE8 AMBROSIANJE. political exercises and education which we enjoy, are riches which we may well wish to see in the possession of others ; but they lead us into a thousand fallacies, when they make us conclude, from what our feelings would be under any given institutions, that another people, whose very prejudices go with its government, must be just as ready to present a claim of right, bring the king to trial, or declare the throne to be vacant. Prussia is by no means the only country of Germany where the people know nothing of that love of political thinking and information which pervade ourselves. But Prussia is in the true course to arrive at it ; the most useful classes of her society are gradually rising in wealth, respectability, and importance ; and ere long, her government, in the natural course of things, must admit popular elements. If foreign influ- ence, and above all, that of Russia, whose leaden weight is said to hang too heavily already on the cabinet of Berlin, do not interfere, I shall be deceived if the change be either demanded with outrageous clamor from below, or re- fused with unwise and selfish obstinacy from above. No people of the con- tinent better deserve political liberty than the Germans ; for none will wait for it more patiently, receive it more thankfully, or use it with greater mod- eration." North. Thank ye, Odoherty that's a good boy. Oiluhcrty. May I take the book home with me? I must cer- tainly read the rest of it. \nrfh. By all means. I assure you you will find the writing throughout clever, the facts interesting, and the tone excellent. Ring, Morgan ; I must have my chair. END OF VOL. I. UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY, LOS ANGELES COLLEGE LIBRARY This book is due on the last date stamped below. Book Slip-35m-7,'63(D8634s4)4280 UCLA-College Library PR 5837 N67 1863 v.1 jllege brary 37 L 005 773 614 2 7 1863 v.l UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL A 001 179 501