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                                 POETRY
                                   OF
                           THE ANTI-JACOBIN:
                       COMPRISING THE CELEBRATED
                     POLITICAL AND SATIRICAL POEMS,
                                   OF
   THE RT. HONS. G. CANNING, JOHN HOOKHAM FRERE, W. PITT, THE MARQUIS
   WELLESLEY, G. ELLIS, W. GIFFORD, THE EARL OF CARLISLE, AND OTHERS.


                  EDITED, WITH EXPLANATORY NOTES, ETC.

                                   BY
                            CHARLES EDMONDS,
      EDITOR OF THE “PYTCHLEY HUNT, PAST AND PRESENT,” ETC., ETC.


 _THIRD EDITION, CONSIDERABLY ENLARGED, WITH SIX ILLUSTRATIONS BY JAMES
                               GILLRAY._


                     NEW YORK: G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS.
                 LONDON: SAMPSON LOW & CO., _Limited_.
                                 1890.




                           EDITOR’S PREFACE.


The fate which usually attends political and satirical writings that owe
their origin to passing events, has in no way affected the POETRY OF THE
ANTI-JACOBIN, which, after a lapse of more than ninety years, still
continues to interest and amuse. Public opinion never fails, sooner or
later, to arrive at a just conclusion as to the merits both of
individuals and actions; and though it may often neglect to preserve a
meritorious work, never perpetuates a worthless one. Poetry which lashed
with so remorseless a hand the patriotic proceedings, and held up to
ridicule the persons and habits, of the most distinguished Whig leaders,
must have possessed no common merit to have won the encomiums of such
liberal politicians and such critics as MACKINTOSH and JEFFREY, MOORE
and BYRON.

MOORE, in his _Life of Sheridan_, observes: “_The Rolliad_ and _The
Anti-Jacobin_ may, on their respective sides of the question, be
considered as models of that style of political satire whose lightness
and vivacity give it the appearance of proceeding rather from the
wantonness of wit than of ill-nature, and whose very malice, from the
fancy with which it is mixed up, like certain kinds of fire-works,
explodes in sparkles”. This criticism might be applied to some of his
own political squibs.

As the poems refer to occurrences long since past, a rapid glance at the
state of events at that time (1797–8) may render them more intelligible
to the generality of readers.

The affairs of England were then in a critical position. The ministry of
PITT was carrying on a fierce war with republican France, the necessity
for which had split the public into two great parties. The liberal party
alleged, that “the whole misfortunes of Europe and all the crimes of
France had arisen from the iniquitous coalition of kings to overturn its
infant freedom;—that, if its government had been left alone, it would
neither have stained its hands with innocent blood at home nor pursued
plans of aggrandizement abroad; and that the Republic, relieved from the
pressure of external danger, and no longer roused by the call of
patriotic duty, would have quietly turned its swords into pruning-hooks,
and, renouncing the allurements of foreign conquests, thought only of
promoting the internal felicity of its citizens”.

These sentiments, though supported by the extraordinary eloquence of
FOX, SHERIDAN, ERSKINE, and others, had but little weight with the
minister or the great body of the public. It was impossible to deny that
the power of the French Republic was daily increasing, and threatened
the subjugation of the greater part of Europe. BUONAPARTE had overrun
Italy, and broken the power of Austria, which, by the treaty of Leoben,
was compelled to cede the Netherlands to France, allow the free
navigation of the Rhine, and recognise the independence of the
newly-erected Italian republics. Spain, also, had declared war against
Britain, which was thus left to contend singly against the power of
France; for the Directory had refused the basis of peace proposed by
LORD MALMESBURY, that of a mutual restitution of conquests. To add to
these embarrassments, during the year 1797 credit became affected, and
the Bank of England suspended cash payments; mutinies broke out in the
fleets at Spithead and the Nore; and Ireland was on the verge of
rebellion. But the talents of PITT were equal to the occasion, and his
power rose higher than ever, when his prognostications were shortly
after (in December, 1797) confirmed by the unprovoked attack upon
Switzerland by the French. The impolicy of this proceeding was equal to
its infamy; for nothing ever done by the revolutionary government
contributed so powerfully to cool the ardour of its partisans in Europe,
and to open the eyes of the intelligent and respectable classes in every
other country to its ultimate designs. Its effect on the friends of
freedom in England may be judged of from the indignant protest of SIR
JAMES MACKINTOSH, himself once a warm admirer of the French Revolution,
who, in his defence of JEAN PELTIER, in 1803, for a libel on BUONAPARTE,
declared, “the invasion and destruction of Switzerland an act, in
comparison with which all the deeds of rapine and blood perpetrated in
the world are innocence itself”. Even before this, the true character of
the revolution had been detected by the democratic COLERIDGE, who gave
public utterance to his feelings of horror and disgust in that noble
_Ode to France_ written in February, 1797. In a word, to say nothing of
her other conquests, France, at the beginning of 1798, had three
affiliated republics at her side, the Batavian, Cisalpine, and the
Ligurian; before its close she had organized three more, the Helvetic,
the Roman, and the Parthenopeian.

PITT’S influence was further increased by the threatened invasion of
Great Britain by the French, a proceeding which, as it affected every
class in the country, raised the national enthusiasm to the highest
pitch, inflamed as it already was by the recent glorious victories off
Cape St. Vincent and Camperdown. That they were likely to be in earnest
had been already shown by their expeditions to Bantry Bay and
Pembrokeshire, and BUONAPARTE’S boast at Geneva, that “he would
democratize England in three months,” proved how much he relied upon the
support of the malcontents both in Great Britain and Ireland. The
estimates and preparations for defence were, enormous; taxes, to an
extent utterly unknown before, were laid on; the Volunteer Bill was
passed (SHERIDAN assisting), by which, in addition to the regular army,
a hundred and fifty thousand volunteers were, in a few weeks, in arms;
THE KING was authorized by another bill, in the event of an invasion, to
call out the levy, _en masse_, of the population; the Alien Bill was
reenacted; and the suspension of the Habeas Corpus Act continued for
another year.

But the genius of one man, however great, can effect but little, unless
suitably supported by others. The sagacious mind of PITT had long seen
that his party in Parliament were, with very few exceptions, no match
for his numerous opponents, powerful both in talent and social position;
among whom were FOX, SHERIDAN, ERSKINE, HORNE TOOKE, WHITBREAD,
NICHOLLS, COURTENAY, FITZPATRICK, the DUKES of NORFOLK and BEDFORD, LORD
STANHOPE, the DUCHESS of DEVONSHIRE, and others. He was always anxious,
therefore, to secure whatever available talent presented itself, and
immediately on their appearance enlisted under his banners CANNING,
JENKINSON, HUSKISSON, and CASTLEREAGH, all men of the same standing, for
the first three were born in 1770, and the last in 1769.

The important assistance of CANNING was immediately felt, for he was, in
the words of BYRON, “a genius—almost a universal one; an orator, a wit,
a poet, a statesman”. Though he entered Parliament at the early age of
23 (in 1793), and attained the post of Under-Secretary of State for the
Foreign Department two years after, he was by no means inexperienced
either as a writer or as an orator; for while a student at Eton he had
won distinction by his contributions to _The Microcosm_, a weekly paper
published by the more advanced Etonians, and also in the discussions of
their Debating Society, which were conducted with strict regard to
parliamentary usages. And afterwards, while studying for the law, he
took an active part in the proceedings of the debating societies of the
metropolis, in which he achieved so much reputation as to lead to his
introduction to PITT, whose party he unhesitatingly joined.

CANNING early saw the necessity of the Government’s possessing some
literary engine, which, like the Whig _Rolliad_, published some years
before, should carry confusion into the ranks of its enemies. In a lucky
hour he conceived the idea of _The Anti-Jacobin_, a weekly newspaper,
interspersed with poetry, the avowed object of which was to expose the
vicious doctrines of the French Revolution, and to turn into ridicule
and contempt the advocates of that event, and the sticklers for peace
and parliamentary reform. The editor was WILLIAM GIFFORD, whose vigorous
and unscrupulous pen had been already shown in his _Baviad_ and
_Mæviad_; and among the regular writers were: JOHN HOOKHAM FRERE,
JENKINSON (afterwards EARL OF LIVERPOOL), GEORGE ELLIS (who had
previously contributed to the Whig _Rolliad_), LORD CLARE, LORD
MORNINGTON (afterwards MARQUIS WELLESLEY), LORD MORPETH (afterwards EARL
OF CARLISLE), BARON MACDONALD, and others. These gentlemen entered upon
their task with no common spirit. Their purpose was to blacken their
adversaries, and they spared no means, fair or foul, in the attempt.
Their most distinguished countrymen, whose only fault was their being
opposed to government, were treated with no more respect than their
foreign adversaries, and were held up to public execration as traitors,
blasphemers, and debauchees. So alarmed, however, became WILBERFORCE and
others of the more moderate supporters of ministers at the boldness of
the language employed, that PITT was induced to interfere, and, after an
existence of eight months, _The Anti-Jacobin_ (in its original form)
ceased to exist.

_The Poetry of the Anti-Jacobin_ is not exclusively political. _The
Loves of the Triangles_, a parody on DR. DARWIN’S _Loves of the Plants_,
is, in the opinion of a celebrated critic (Lord Jeffrey) of the highest
degree of merit; as is also _The Progress of Man_, a parody on PAYNE
KNIGHT’S _Progress of Civil Society_; and _The Rovers_, a burlesque on
the German dramas then in vogue, the extraordinary plots of which, as
well as their language, alternately ultrasentimental and domestically
bathotic, well marked them out for ridicule, is distinguished by sharp
wit and broad humour of the happiest kind. CANNING and his coadjutors in
this piece did a real service to literature, and assisted in a
purification which GIFFORD, by his demolition of the Della Cruscan
school of poetry, had so well begun. Of _The Friend of Humanity and the
Knife-grinder_ it is unnecessary to speak; perhaps no lines in the
English language have been more effective, or oftener quoted.

But CANNING’S greatest power is shown in _New Morality_, which, being
the last of the series, seems to have been reserved as a concentrating
medium for his pent-up scorn and contempt of the Whigs and their
adherents. So that their blows fall thick (for he was powerfully
seconded by Frere, Gifford, and Ellis), they care little who suffer from
them, and the modern reader is surprised to find CHARLES LAMB and other
non-intruders into politics, figuring as congenial conspirators with TOM
PAINE!

It is somewhat difficult to regard PITT in the character of a Wit and a
Poet, as from the narrative of most of his biographers, he might be
considered as uniformly cold, stiff, and unbending; but his intimate
friend WILBERFORCE, in his _Memoirs_, thus describes him: “PITT, when
free from shyness, and amongst his intimate companions, was the very
soul of merriment and conversation. He was the wittiest man I ever knew,
and what was quite peculiar to himself, had at all times his wit under
entire controul. Others appeared struck by the unwonted association of
brilliant images; but every possible combination of ideas seemed always
present to his mind, and he could at once produce whatever he desired. I
was one of those who met to spend an evening in memory of Shakespeare,
at the Boar’s Head, Eastcheap. Many professed wits were present, but
PITT was the most amusing of the party, the readiest and most apt in the
required allusions.” It is not, therefore, at all unlikely, that he now
and then contributed witty verses to _The Anti-Jacobin_, in addition to
those which the Editor has, on probable grounds, ascribed to him in the
present volume.

“Critical commentary,” says a critic of the previous edition, “on the
merits of _The Anti-Jacobin_, would be superfluous. Its satire is
distinguished for the terse language of its poignant personality, which
was often excessively stinging, but seldom offensively coarse. Its best
contributors, CANNING and FRERE, were not mere pamphleteers in verse,
like the writers for _The Rolliad_. They had poetical inspiration and a
sprightly joyousness springing from a genial play of the mental
faculties. They were ‘Conservatives’ not only in their politics but in
their loyal adherence to the ordinances and traditions of classical
English literature. False sentiment, tumid diction, mawkish cant, were
chastised by them with exemplary efficacy. On the fourth edition of the
complete work (1799, 2 Vols. 8vo, containing both prose and poetry),
they placed the epigraph, _Sparsosque recolligit ignes_; and in the very
last paper (No. 36), the motto on discontinuance was exquisitely happy:—

                            “‘We shall miss thee;
                    But yet thou shalt have freedom.
                            So to the elements
                    Be free; and fare thou well!’

“And these lines, taken from _The Tempest_ (probably by CANNING), have
been prophetic of the popularity of their witty verse, still quoted and
admired by all lovers of the genius that is airily elegant and strong.”

                                                        CHARLES EDMONDS.

  WATER ORTON, BIRMINGHAM.




                   ADDITIONS TO THE PRESENT EDITION.


Numerous new Biographical and other Notes.

  Additions and Corrections to the List of presumed AUTHORS of “THE
      POETRY”.

  Selections from the PROSE portion of the work, written by the RT. HON.
      G. CANNING and his coadjutors.

  Account of the various EDITIONS of _The Anti-Jacobin_, and its
      successors.

  Enlarged articles on the opposition NEWSPAPERS abused by _The
      Anti-Jacobin_ writers.

  The curious ABUSIVE AND SATIRICAL INDEX to _The Anti-Jacobin_; and
      specimens of a similar Index to _The Anti-Jacobin Review and
      Magazine_.

  Selections from _The Anti-Jacobin Review and Magazine_—the successor
      to _The Anti-Jacobin_—showing that though written by a different
      body of Authors, both works were animated by the same spirit.




                     EDITIONS OF THE ANTI-JACOBIN;
                          AND ITS SUCCESSORS.


  THE ANTI-JACOBIN, or WEEKLY EXAMINER. Sparsosque recolligit ignes.
      From Nov. 20, 1797, to July 9, 1798. 4to.

                                                                 London.

  Nos. 1 to 36; with a Prospectus (complete).

  —— The Same. Second and third editions, in 4to.

  —— The Same. Fourth edition, revised and corrected. 2 vols. 8vo.

                                                           London, 1799.

Every Number contained Poetry, the presumed Names of the Authors of
which will be found in the Table of Contents of the present volume.

                  *       *       *       *       *

  THE POETRY OF THE ANTI-JACOBIN. 4to.

                                                           London, 1801.

This volume includes the whole of the POETRY contained in the original
_Anti-Jacobin_, with a few verbal corrections. Previous to its
publication, it was announced that it would be illustrated by 40 plates
expressly designed by GILLRAY; but they never appeared. Numerous
editions in 12mo subsequently appeared, but without any additions, till
those mentioned below.

                  *       *       *       *       *

  THE POETRY OF THE ANTI-JACOBIN. A New Edition, with Explanatory Notes
      by CHARLES EDMONDS. 12mo.

                                                           London, 1852.

  —— The Same. Second edition, by CHARLES EDMONDS; with additional
      Notes, the original Prospectus (by the Rt. Hon. G. CANNING), and a
      complete List of the Authors. Illustrated by six etchings after
      the designs of JAS. GILLRAY. 12mo.

                                                           London, 1854.

                  *       *       *       *       *

  THE ANTI-JACOBIN REVIEW AND MAGAZINE; or Monthly Political and
      Literary Censor. From the commencement in July, 1798, to its close
      in 1821. (_The first few vols. contain engravings by Gillray and
      others, and much_ POETRY _is scattered through the volumes_.) 61
      vols. 8vo.

                                                      London, 1798–1821.

For reasons stated on a previous page, CANNING and other political
friends of PITT thought it prudent to withdraw themselves from the
original _Anti-Jacobin_, but by a preconcerted arrangement it was
determined that the spirit which had pervaded that work, and which had
had so powerful an effect on the popular mind, and thereby, in
connection with Gillray’s caricatures, so undoubtedly strengthened the
hands of the Ministry, should not die, if it could be kept alive by
other and congenial writers. In the words of MR. FOX BOURNE (in his
valuable work on _English Newspapers_, 1887): “Though _The Anti-Jacobin_
made its last appearance on July 9, 1798, there was started a few days
before a monthly _Anti-Jacobin Review and Magazine_ of the same
politics, but much less brilliant, and more ponderous. Strange to say,
it also was edited by a GIFFORD, or one who so called himself. JOHN
RICHARDS GREEN was a bold and versatile adventurer, who, having to fly
from his creditors in 1782, returned from France in 1788, as JOHN
GIFFORD, and was connected with several newspapers [including the
establishment of _The British Critic_], besides editing _The
Anti-Jacobin Review_. [He also wrote a _History of France_, and other
works.] Befriended in many ways by PITT, he wrote a four-volume pamphlet
[3 vols. 4to, and also 6 vols. 8vo, both dated 1809], styled the _Life
of William Pitt_, after his patron’s death. JAMES MILL, the friend and
associate of JEREMY BENTHAM, was glad to earn money in his struggling
days by writing non-political articles for _The Anti-Jacobin Review_.
WILLIAM GIFFORD, it is hardly necessary to state, besides editing Ben
Jonson’s Works, and other useful occupations, was the first editor of
_The Quarterly Review_ in 1809.”

In the British Museum are two copies of _The Anti-Jacobin Review and
Magazine_. In one of them the first six vols. contain the Names of the
Authors of most of the articles, among whom are the REV. JOHN WHITAKER,
author of _The History of Manchester_, the REV. SAM. HENSHALL, author of
works on Domesday Book, the REV. C. E. STEWART, a copious poetaster,
etc., and many other clergymen.

                  *       *       *       *       *

  THE NEW ANTI-JACOBIN REVIEW. Delenda est Carthago.

Nos. 1 to 3 seem to be all that were published, and appeared May 6, June
9, and June 23, 1827; price two shillings each.

No. 2 includes what is called a _Patriot Portrait Exhibition_, which is
continued in No. 3. In the latter No. is also an article entitled
_Canningiana_. Published by Saunders and Otley.

                  *       *       *       *       *

  THE NEW ANTI-JACOBIN; a Monthly Magazine of Politics, Commerce,
      Science, Literature, Art, Music, and the Drama.

Consists of only Nos. 1 and 2. Published by Smith, Elder, & Co., and
Carpenter & Son; dated respectively April and May, 1833.

No. 2 contains _Horace in Parliament_; an Ode to William Cobbett; being
a Parody on Horace—_In Barinen_, Ode 4, Lib. 2. It is accompanied by a
full-length portrait of Cobbett.

The above two works, in accordance with their titles, advocate high Tory
principles; but though written with great spirit they had but a very
short existence. Copies of both will be found in the British Museum.

                  *       *       *       *       *

  ENGLISH ACTORS IN THE FRENCH REVOLUTION, AND EYE-WITNESSES OF THE
      SAME.

The most complete details hitherto furnished on these interesting
subjects will be found in the Nos. for October, 1887, and July, 1888, of
_The Edinburgh Review_, the work of MR. JOHN G. ALGER, the Paris
correspondent of _The Times_. They have since been published in a
volume. (_Englishmen in the French Revolution_: Low & Co., 1889.)

[Illustration]




              CONTENTS OF THE POETRY OF THE ANTI-JACOBIN,
                     WITH THE NAMES OF THE AUTHORS.


The following notices of the writers of the POETRY OF THE ANTI-JACOBIN
are derived from the copies mentioned below, and each name is
authenticated by the initials of the authority upon which each piece is
ascribed to particular persons:—

                C. CANNING’S own copy of the Poetry.
                B. LORD BURGHERSH’S copy.
                W. WRIGHT the publisher’s copy.
                U. Information of W. UPCOTT, amanuensis.

[Although many of the pieces in the following list are attributed to
wrong authors, it has been thought more convenient to reprint them as
they stood in the previous edition, in order to insert any corrections,
as far as FRERE is concerned. These are derived from the information of
FRERE himself given to his nephews, who afterwards edited his works in
1872. They are therefore placed beneath the Title of the piece—between
brackets.

The pieces, printed in _Italics_—between brackets—appear for the first
time in an edition of _The Poetry_.—ED.]

                                             PAGE. AUTHORS.

 PROSPECTUS OF THE ANTI-JACOBIN                  1 Canning.

 Introduction                                   12 Canning.

 Inscription for the Apartment in Chepstow
   Castle, where Henry Marten, the Regicide,    16 Southey.
   was imprisoned thirty years

 Inscription for the Door of the Cell in
   Newgate, where Mrs. Brownrigg, the           16 Canning, C.
   Prentice-cide, was confined previous to         Frere, C.
   her execution

 The Friend of Humanity and the Knife           23 Frere, C.
   Grinder                                         Canning, C.

 The Invasion; or, the British War Song         25 Hely Addington, W.

 La Sainte Guillotine: a New Song, attempted       Canning, C.
   from the French                              29 Frere, C.
                                                   Hammond, B.

                    [By _Canning_ and _Frere_ only.]

 [_Meeting of the Friends of Freedom_]          32 Claimed by Frere.


                                                   Canning, C.
 The Soldier’s Friend                           38 Frere, C.
                                                   Ellis, B.

                    [By _Canning_ and _Frere_ only.]

 Sonnet to Liberty.                             39 Lord Carlisle, B.

 Quintessence of all the Dactylics that ever    41 Canning, B.
   were, or ever will be, written                  Gifford, W.

 Latin Verses, written immediately after the    43 Marq. Wellesley, U.
   Revolution of the Fourth of September

 Translation of the above                       45 Frere, B.

 [PEARCE, in his _Memoirs of the Marquis Wellesley_, gives the credit of
            this translation to the sixth EARL of CARLISLE.]

 The Choice; imitated from _The Battle of
   Sabla_, in Carlyle’s Specimens of Arabian    48 G. Ellis, B.
   Poetry

 The Duke and the Taxing Man                    52 Bar. Macdonald, C.,
                                                   B.

 Epigram on the Paris Loan, called the Loan     54 Frere, B.
   upon England

                        [Not claimed by _Frere_.]

 Ode to Anarchy                                 55 Lord Morpeth, B.

 Song, recommended to be sung at all
   _convivial_ meetings convened for the        58 Frere, B.
   purpose of opposing the Assessed Tax Bill

                  [By _Canning_, _Ellis_, and _Frere_.]

 Lines written at the close of the year 1797    61

 Translation of the New Song of _The Army of    63
   England_

 Epistle to the Editors of _The                 68
   Anti-Jacobin_

 [This _Epistle_ is now known to have been written by the HON. WM. LAMB,
 (afterwards second VISCOUNT MELBOURNE, and Prime Minister). He was then
                      only in his nineteenth year.]

 To the Author of the _Epistle to the           71 Canning, C.
   Editors of the Anti-Jacobin_                    Hammond, B.

 Ode to Lord Moira                              78 G. Ellis, C., B.

 A Bit of an Ode to Mr. Fox                     83 G. Ellis, C.
                                                   Frere, B.

 Acme and Septimius; or, the Happy Union.       88 G. Ellis, C.

 [_Mr. Fox’s Birth-Day_]                        90

 To the Author of the Anti-Jacobin              95 Mr. Bragge,
                                                   afterwards Bathurst.

 Lines written under the Bust of Charles Fox    99 Frere, B.
   at the Crown and Anchor

 Lines written by a Traveller at Czarco-zelo
   under the Bust of a certain Orator, once     99 G. Ellis, B.
   placed between those of Demosthenes and
   Cicero

   [JAS. BOSWELL, jun., asserts, on the authority of the nephew of the
 great statesman, that the above lines were written by PITT. This is not
                   improbable: see Note on page 101.]


                                                   Canning, C.
 The Progress of Man. Didactic Poem            102 Gifford, W.
                                                   Frere, B.

    [Cantos 1 and 2 by _Canning_ only; and Canto 23 by _Canning_ and
                             _Frere_ only.]

 The Progress of Man, _continued_              107 Canning, C.
                                                   Hammond, B.

 Imitation of Bion. Written at St. Anne’s      111 G. Ellis, B.
   Hill                                            Gifford, W.

 The New Coalition: Imitation of Horace,       114
   Lib. 3, Carm. 9

 [_The Honey-Moon of Fox and Tooke_, another
   version of the same by the REV. C. E.       116
   STEWART; published in the _Anti-Jacobin
   Review_, vol. i.]

 Imitation of Horace, Lib. 3, Carm. 25         119 Canning, C.

 Chevy Chase                                   125 Bar. Macdonald, C.,
                                                   B.

 Ode to Jacobinism                             129

                                                   Canning, C.
 The Progress of Man, _continued_              133 Frere, C.
                                                   G. Ellis, B.

 The Jacobin                                   141 Nares, W.

 The Loves of the Triangles. A Mathematical    150 Frere, C.
   and Philosophical Poem                          Canning, B.

                [All but the last three lines _Frere’s_.]

 The Loves of the Triangles, _continued_       158 G. Ellis, C., W.
                                                   Canning, B.

  [Down to “Twine round his struggling heart,” by _Ellis_. From “Thus,
     happy France,” to “And folds the parent-monarch,” by _Canning_,
   _Ellis_, and _Frere_. The next twelve lines, which were not in the
            _first_ edition, 1798, were added by _Canning_.]

 Brissot’s Ghost                               165 Frere, B.

                        [Not claimed by _Frere_.]

                                                   Canning B., W., C.
 The Loves of the Triangles, _continued_       170 Gifford C.
                                                   Frere C.

                  [By _Canning_, _Ellis_, and _Frere_.]

 A Consolatory Address to his Gun-Boats. By    182 Lord Morpeth, B.
   Citizen Muskein


                                                   Canning, B., C.
 Elegy on the Death of Jean Bon St. André      185 Gifford, C.
                                                   Frere, C.

                  [By _Canning_, _Ellis_, and _Frere_.]

                                                   Frere, C.
 Ode to my Country, MDCCXCVIII                 193 B. B., C.
                                                   Hammond, B.

                    [This is not claimed by _Frere_.]

 Ode to the Director Merlin                    199 Lord Morpeth, B.

                                                   Frere, C.
 The Rovers; or, the Double Arrangement        205 Gifford, C.
                                                   G. Ellis, C.
                                                   Canning B., C.

  [Act 1, Sc. 1 and 2, by _Frere_—Song by _Canning_ and _Ellis_; Act 2,
    Sc. 1 and 3, and Act 3, by _Canning_; Act 2, Sc. 2, and Act 4, by
        _Frere_. The preliminary prose by _Frere_ and _Canning_.]


                                                   Frere B., C.
 The Rovers; or, the Double Arrangement,       224 Gifford C.
   _continued_                                     Ellis, C.
                                                   Canning, C.

 An Affectionate Effusion of Citizen Muskein   236 Lord Morpeth, B.
   to Havre-de-Grace

 Translation of a Letter from                      Gifford, C., B.
   Bawba-dara-adul-phoola, to                  242 Ellis, C., B.
   Neek-awl-aretchid-kooez                         Canning, C., B.
                                                   Frere, C., B.

                  [By _Canning_, _Ellis_, and _Frere_.]

 [_Buonaparte’s Letter to the Commandant at    248
   Zante_]

 Ode to a Jacobin                              251

 Ballynahinch; A New Song                      255 Canning, C.

 De Navali Laude Britanniæ                     257 Canning, B.

 [Translation of the above                     260 The late A. F.
                                                   Westmacott.]

 [_Valedictory Address_]                       263

                                                   Canning, B. C.
 New Morality                                  271 Frere, C.
                                                   Gifford, C.
                                                   G. Ellis, C.

 LINE.

     1 From Mental Mists                                Frere, W.

    15 Yet venial Vices, &c.                            Canning, W.

       Bethink thee, Gifford, &c. These lines were
    29 written by CANNING some    years before he had
       any personal acquaintance with GIFFORD.

    71 Awake! for shame!                                Canning, W.

   158 Fond Hope!                                       Frere, W.

   168 Such is the liberal Justice                      Canning, W.

                                                        Frere, W.
   249 O! Nurse of Crimes!                              Canning, W.
                                                        G. Ellis, W.

   261 See Louvet                                       Canning, W.

   287 But hold, severer Virtue                         Frere, W.
                                                        Canning, W.

                                                        Frere, W.
   302 To thee proud Barras bows                        Canning, W.
                                                        Ellis, W.

   318 Ere long, perhaps                                Gifford, W.
                                                        Ellis, W.

   328 Couriers and Stars                               Frere, W.
                                                        Canning, W.

   356 Britain, beware                                  Canning, W.

   372 So thine own Oak                                 attributed to W.
                                                        Pitt.

“WRIGHT, the publisher of the _Anti-Jacobin_, lived at 169, Piccadilly,
and his shop was the general morning resort of the friends of the
ministry, as DEBRETT’S was of the oppositionists. About the time when
the _Anti-Jacobin_ was contemplated, OWEN, who had been the publisher of
BURKE’S pamphlets, failed. The editors of the _Anti-Jacobin_ took his
house, paying the rent, taxes, &c., and gave it up to WRIGHT, reserving
to themselves the first floor, to which a communication was opened
through WRIGHT’S house. Being thus enabled to pass to their own rooms
through WRIGHT’S shop, where their frequent visits did not excite any
remarks, they contrived to escape particular observation.”

“Their meetings were most regular on Sundays, but they not unfrequently
met on other days of the week, and in their rooms were chiefly written
the poetical portions of the work. What was written was generally left
open upon the table, and as others of the party dropped in, hints or
suggestions were made; sometimes whole passages were contributed by some
of the parties present, and afterwards altered by others, so that it is
almost impossible to ascertain the names of the authors. Where, in the
above notes, a piece is ascribed to different authors, the conflicting
statements may arise from incorrect information, but sometimes they
arise from the whole authorship being assigned to one person, when, in
fact, both may have contributed. If we look at the references, 167, 185,
we shall see CANNING naming several authors, whereas LORD BURGHERSH
assigns all to one author. CANNING’S authority is here more to be relied
upon. _New Morality_ CANNING assigns generally to the four contributors.
WRIGHT has given some interesting particulars by appropriating to each
his peculiar portion.”

“GIFFORD was the working editor, and wrote most of the refutations and
corrections of the _Lies_, _Mistakes_, and _Misrepresentations_.”

“The papers on finance were chiefly by PITT: the first column was
frequently kept for what he might send; but his contributions were
uncertain, and generally very late, so that the space reserved for him
was sometimes filled up by other matter. He only once met the editors at
WRIGHT’S.”

“W. UPCOTT, who was at the time assistant in WRIGHT’S shop, was employed
as amanuensis, to copy out for the printer the various contributions,
that the author’s handwriting might not be detected.”—_E. Hawkins._




          “THE RIGHT HON. GEORGE CANNING AS A MAN OF LETTERS.”

[The following is part of a review, under the above title, of the
present editor’s previous edition of _The Poetry of the Anti-Jacobin_,
and appeared in _The Edinburgh Review_ of July, 1858. It is reprinted in
the _Biographical and Critical Essays_ of A. HAYWARD, Esq., Q.C., 2
vols., 8vo., 1873. It is introduced here as throwing some additional
light on the _Writers of the various pieces_.]


“... We can hardly say of CANNING’S satire what was said of SHERIDAN’S,
that—

            “‘His wit in the combat, as gentle as bright,
            Never carried a heart-stain away on its blade’.

But its severity was redeemed by its buoyancy and geniality, whilst the
subjects against which it was principally aimed gave it a healthy tone
and a sound foundation. Its happiest effusions will be found in _The
Anti-Jacobin_, set on foot to refute or ridicule the democratic rulers
of revolutionary France and their admirers or apologists in England,
who, it must be owned, were occasionally hurried into a culpable degree
of extravagance and laxity by their enthusiasm....”

“We learn from MR. EDMONDS that almost all his authorities practically
resolve themselves into one, the late MR. W. UPCOTT, and that he never
saw either of the alleged copies on which his informant relied. As
regards the principal one, CANNING’S own, after the fullest inquiries
amongst his surviving relatives and friends, we cannot discover a trace
of its existence at any period. LORD BURGHERSH (the late EARL OF
WESTMORELAND) was under fourteen years of age during the publication of
_The Anti-Jacobin_; and we very much doubt whether either the publisher
or the amanuensis (be he who he may) was admitted to the complete
confidence of the contributors, or whether either the prose or poetry
was composed as stated. In a letter to the late MADAME DE GIRARDIN, _à
propos_ of her play, _L’École des Journalistes_, JULES JANIN happily
exposes the assumption that good leading articles ever were, or ever
could be, produced over punch and broiled bones, amidst intoxication and
revelry. Equally untenable is the belief that poetical pieces, like the
best of _The Anti-Jacobin_, were written in the common rooms of the
confraternity, open to constant intrusion, and left upon the table to be
corrected or completed by the first comer. The unity of design
discernible in each, the glowing harmony of the thoughts and images, and
the exquisite finish of the versification, tell of silent and solitary
hours spent in brooding over, maturing, and polishing a cherished
conception; and young authors, still unknown to fame, are least of all
likely to sink their individuality in this fashion. We suspect that
their main object in going to WRIGHT’S was to correct their proofs and
see one another’s articles in the more finished state. Their meetings,
if for these purposes, would be most regular on Sundays, because the
paper appeared every Monday morning. The extent to which they aided one
another may be collected from a well-authenticated anecdote. When FRERE
had completed the first part of _The Loves of the Triangles_, he
exultingly read over the following lines to CANNING, and defied him to
improve upon them:—

        “‘Lo, where the chimney’s sooty tube ascends,
        The fair TROCHAIS from the corner bends!
        Her coal-black eyes upturned, incessant mark
        The eddying smoke, quick flame, and volant spark;
        Mark with quick ken, where flashing in between,
        Her much-loved _Smoke-Jack_ glimmers through the scene;
        Mark, how his various parts together tend,
        Point to one purpose,—in one object end;
        The spiral grooves in smooth meanders flow,
        Drags the long chain, the polished axles glow,
        While slowly circumvolves the piece of beef below:’

“CANNING took the pen and added—

          “‘The conscious fire with bickering radiance burns,
          Eyes the rich joint, and roasts it as it turns’.

“These two lines are now blended with the original text, and constitute,
we are informed on the best authority, the only flaw in FRERE’S title to
the sole authorship of the First Part. The Second and Third Parts were
by CANNING.

“By the kindness of [the late] LORD HATHERTON, we have now before us a
bound volume containing all the numbers of _The Anti-Jacobin_ as they
originally appeared, eight pages quarto, with double columns, price
sixpence. On the fly-leaf is inscribed: ‘This copy belonged to the
Marquess Wellesley, and was purchased at the sale of his library after
his death, January, 1842. H.’ On the cover is pasted an engraved label
of the arms and name of a former proprietor, CHARLES WILLIAM FLINT, with
the pencilled addition of ‘Confidential Amanuensis’. In this copy
CANNING’S name is subscribed to (amongst others) the following pieces,
which are also assigned to him (along with a large share in the most
popular of the rest) by the most trustworthy rumours and
traditions:—_Inscription for the Door of the Cell in Newgate where Mrs.
Brownrigg, the Prenticide, was confined previous to her execution; The
Friend of Humanity and the Knife-Grinder_; the lines addressed _To the
Author of the Epistle to the Editors of The Anti-Jacobin_; _The Progress
of Man_ (all three parts); and _New Morality_.[1]

“With the single exception of _The Friend of Humanity and the
Knife-Grinder_, no piece in the collection is more freshly remembered
than the _Inscription for the Cell of Mrs. Brownrigg_, who

               “‘Whipp’d two female ’prentices to death,
               And hid them in the coal-hole’.

“The Answer to _The Author of the Epistle to the Editors of The
Anti-Jacobin_ is less known, and it derives a fresh interest from the
fact, recently [_c._ 1854] made public, that _The Epistle_ (which
appeared in _The Morning Chronicle_ of January 17, 1798) was the
composition of WILLIAM LORD MELBOURNE. The beginning shows that the veil
of incognito had been already penetrated.

            “‘Whoe’er ye are, all hail!—whether the skill
            Of youthful CANNING guides the ranc’rous quill;
            With powers mechanic far above his age,
            Adapts the paragraph and fills the page;
            Measures the column, mends whate’er’s amiss,
            Rejects THAT letter, and accepts of THIS;
            Or HAMMOND, leaving his official toil,
            O’er this great work consume the midnight oil—
            Bills, passports, letters, for the Muses quit,
            And change dull business for amusing wit.’

“After referring to ‘the poetic sage, who sung of Gallia in a headlong
rage,’ _The Epistle_ proceeds:—

         “‘I swear by all the youths that MALMESBURY chose,[2]
         By ELLIS’ sapient prominence of nose—
         By MORPETH’S gait, important, proud and big—
         _By Leveson Gower’s crop-imitating wig_,
         That, could the pow’rs which in those numbers shine,
         Could that warm spirit animate my line,
         Your glorious deeds which humbly I rehearse—
         Your deeds should live immortal as my verse;
         And, while they wonder’d whence I caught my flame,
         Your sons should blush to read their fathers’ shame’.

“Happily the eminent and accomplished sons of these fathers will smile,
rather than blush, at this allusion to their sires, and smile the more
when they remember from which side the attack proceeded. It is clear
from the Answer, that, whilst the band were not a little ruffled, they
had not the remotest suspicion that their assailant was a youth in his
nineteenth year. Amongst other prefatory remarks they say:—

“‘We assure the author of the epistle, that the answer which we have
here the honour to address to him, contains our genuine and undisguised
sentiments upon the merits of the poem.

“‘Our conjectures respecting the authors and abettors of this
performance may possibly be as vague and unfounded as theirs are with
regard to the EDITORS of _The Anti-Jacobin_. We are sorry that we cannot
satisfy their curiosity upon this subject—but we have little anxiety for
the gratification of our own.

“‘It is only necessary to add, what is most conscientiously the truth,
that this production, such as it is, is _by far the best_ of all the
attacks that the combined wits of the cause have been able to muster
against _The Anti-Jacobin_.’

“The Answer opens thus:—

           “‘BARD of the borrow’d lyre! to whom belong
           The shreds and remnants of each hackney’d song;
           Whose verse thy friends in vain for wit explore,
           And count but _one good line_, in eighty-four!
           Whoe’er thou art, all hail! Thy bitter smile
           Gilds our dull page, and cheers our humble toil!’

“The ‘one good line’ was ‘By Leveson Gower’s crop-imitating wig,’ but
the Epistle contains many equally good and some better. The speculations
as to its authorship afforded no slight amusement to the writer and his
friends....

“_New Morality_ is commonly regarded as the master-piece of _The
Anti-Jacobin_; and, with the exception of a few lines, the whole of it
is by CANNING. It appeared in the last number, and he is said to have
concentrated all his energies for a parting blow. The reader who comes
fresh from DRYDEN or POPE, or even CHURCHILL, will be disappointed on
finding far less variety of images, sparkling antithesis, or condensed
brilliancy of expression. The author exhibits abundant humour and
eloquence, but comparatively little wit; _i.e._, if there be any truth
in SYDNEY SMITH’S doctrine ‘that the feeling of wit is occasioned by
those relations of ideas which excite surprise, and surprise _alone_’.
We are commonly prepared for what is coming, and our admiration is
excited rather by the justness of the observations, the elevation of the
thoughts, and the vigour of the style, than by a startling succession of
flashes of fancy. If, as we believe, the same might be said of JUVENAL,
and the best of his English imitators, JOHNSON, we leave ample scope for
praise; and _New Morality_ contains passages which have been preserved
to our time and bid fair to reach posterity. How often are the lines on
_Candour_ quoted in entire ignorance or forgetfulness of their
author....

“The drama of _The Rovers_, or _Double Arrangement_, was written to
ridicule the German Drama, then hardly known in this country, except
through the medium of bad translations of some of the least meritorious
of SCHILLER’S, GOETHE’S, and KOTZEBUE’S productions. The parody is now
principally remembered by Rogero’s song, of which, Mr. Edmonds states,
the first five stanzas were by CANNING. “Having been accidentally seen,
previously to its publication, by PITT, he was so amused with it that he
took a pen and composed the last stanza on the spot....”

“CANNING’S reputed share in _The Rovers_ excited the unreasoning
indignation, and provoked the exaggerated censure, of a man who has
obtained a world-wide reputation by his historical researches, most
especially by his skill in separating the true from the fabulous, and in
filling up chasms in national annals by a process near akin to that by
which CUVIER inferred the entire form and structure of an extinct
species from a bone. The following passage is taken from NIEBUHR’S
_History of the Period of the Revolution_ (published from his Lectures,
in two volumes, in 1845):—

“‘CANNING was at that time (1807) at the head of foreign affairs in
England. History will not form the same judgment of him as that formed
by contemporaries. He had great talents, but was not a great Statesman;
he was one of those persons who distinguish themselves as the squires of
political heroes. He was highly accomplished in the two classical
languages, but without being a learned scholar. He was especially
conversant with Greek writers. He had likewise poetical talent, but only
for Satire. At first he had joined the leaders of opposition against
PITT’S ministry: LORD GREY, who perceived his ambition, advised him,
half in joke, to join the ministers, as he would make his fortune. He
did so, and was employed to write articles for the newspapers and
satirical verses, which were often directed against his former
benefactors.

“‘Through the influence of the ministers he came into Parliament. So
long as the great eloquence of former times lasted, and the great men
were alive, his talent was admired; but older persons had no great
pleasure in his petulant, epigrammatic eloquence and his jokes, which
were often in bad taste. He joined the Society of the Anti-Jacobins,
which defended everything connected with existing institutions. This
society published a journal, in which the most honoured names of foreign
countries were attacked in the most scandalous manner. German literature
was at that time little known in England, and it was associated there
with the ideas of Jacobinism and revolution. CANNING then published in
_The Anti-Jacobin_ the most shameful pasquinade which was ever written
against Germany, under the title of _Matilda Pottingen_. Göttingen is
described in it as the sink of all infamy; professors and students as a
gang of miscreants; licentiousness, incest, and atheism as the character
of the German people. Such was CANNING’S beginning: he was at all events
useful, a sort of political Cossack’ (_Geschichte des Zeitalters der
Revolution_, vol. ii., p. 242).

“‘Here am I,’ exclaimed RALEIGH, after vainly trying to get at the
rights of a squabble in the courtyard of the Tower, ‘employed in writing
a true history of the world, when I cannot ascertain the truth of what
happens under my own window.’ Here is the great restorer of Roman
history—who, by the way, prided himself on his knowledge of
England—hurried into the strangest misconception of contemporary events
and personages, and giving vent to a series of depreciatory
misstatements, without pausing to verify the assumed groundwork of his
patriotic wrath. His description of ‘the most shameful pasquinade,’ and
his ignorance of the very title, prove that he had never seen it. If he
had, he would also have known that the scene is laid at Weimar, not at
Göttingen, and that the satire is almost exclusively directed against a
portion of the dramatic literature of his country, which all rational
admirers must admit to be indefensible. The scene in _The Rovers_, in
which the rival heroines, meeting for the first time at an inn, swear
eternal friendship and embrace, is positively a feeble reflection of a
scene in GOETHE’S _Stella_; and no anachronism can exceed that in
SCHILLER’S _Cabal und Liebe_, when Lady Milford, after declaring herself
the daughter of the Duke of Norfolk who rebelled against Queen
Elizabeth, is horrified on finding that the jewels sent her by the Grand
Duke have been purchased by the sale of 7000 of his subjects to be
employed in the American war.[3]

“Amongst the prose contributions to _The Anti-Jacobin_, there is one in
which, independently of direct evidence, the peculiar humour of CANNING
is discernible,—the pretended report of the meeting of the Friends of
Freedom at the Crown and Anchor Tavern.[4] The plan was evidently
suggested by TICKELL’S _Anticipation_, in which the debate on the
Address at the opening of the Session was reported beforehand with such
surprising foresight, that some of the speakers, who were thus
forestalled, declined to deliver their meditated orations.

“At the meeting of the Friends of Freedom, ERSKINE, whose habitual
egotism could hardly be caricatured, is made to perorate as follows,
&c.... A long speech is given to MACKINTOSH, who, under the name of
_Macfungus_, after a fervid sketch of the Temple of Freedom which he
proposes to construct on the ruins of ancient establishments, proceeds
with kindling animation, &c....[5]

“The wit and fun of these imitations are undeniable, and their injustice
is equally so. ERSKINE, with all his egotism, was, and remains, the
greatest of English advocates. He stemmed and turned the tide which
threatened to sweep away the most valued of our free institutions in
1794; and (we say with LORD BROUGHAM) ‘Before such a precious service as
this, well may the lustre of statesmen and orators grow pale’.
MACKINTOSH was pre-eminently distinguished by the comprehensiveness and
moderation of his views; nor could any man be less disposed by temper,
habits, or pursuits towards revolutionary courses. His lectures on _The
Law of Nature and Nations_ were especially directed against the new
morality in general, and GODWIN’S _Political Justice_ in particular.

“At a long subsequent period (1807) CANNING, when attacked in Parliament
for his share in _The Anti-Jacobin_, declared that ‘he felt no shame for
its character or principles, nor any other sorrow for the share he had
had in it than that which the imperfection of his pieces was calculated
to inspire’. Still, it is one of the inevitable inconveniences of a
connection with the Press that the best known writers should be made
answerable for the errors of their associates; and the license of _The
Anti-Jacobin_ gave serious and well-founded offence to many who shared
its opinions and wished well to its professed object. In WILBERFORCE’S
_Diary_ for May 18, 1799, we find ‘PITT, CANNING, and PEPPER ARDEN came
in late to dinner. I attacked CANNING on indecency of _Anti-Jacobin_.’
COLERIDGE, in his _Biographia Literaria_, complains bitterly of the
calumnious accounts given by _The Anti-Jacobin_ of his early life, and
asks with reason, ‘Is it surprising that many good men remained longer
than perhaps they otherwise would have done adverse to a party which
encouraged and openly rewarded the authors of such atrocious calumnies?’

“Mr. Edmonds says that PITT got frightened, and that the publication was
discontinued at the suggestion of the Prime Minister. It is not unlikely
that CANNING, now a member of the House of Commons and Under-Secretary
of State for Foreign Affairs, found his connection with it embarrassing,
as his hopes rose and his political prospects expanded. Indeed, it may
be questioned whether a Parliamentary career can ever be united with
that of the daily or weekly journalist without compromising one or both.
At all events, the original _Anti-Jacobin_ closed with the number
containing _New Morality_, and CANNING had nothing to do with the
_monthly review_ started under the same name.”




              THE _ANTI-JACOBIN_ AS AN AID TO GOVERNMENT.

  [Considering _The Anti-Jacobin_ from a national as well as a
  literary point of view, we cannot do better than use a portion of an
  Essay on English Political Satires by the late JAS. HANNAY, in the
  _Quarterly Review_, April, 1857.]


“... In the case of _The Anti-Jacobin_, what are we to say? A hundred
opinions may be adopted respecting the French Revolution. Some hate it
with unmitigated hatred. Some regret it, but accept its consequences as
beneficial to mankind on the whole. Some cherish its memory as a new
political revelation of which they hope to see still further results.
But a candid man of any of these persuasions must remember that the aim
of _The Anti-Jacobin_ was to keep _Britain_ from revolution during
1797–8. It was therefore necessary to fight as our soldiers afterwards
did in Spain—to wage such a _literary_ war as suited the agitated spirit
of Europe. While we blame CANNING, therefore, for speaking as he did of
MADAME ROLAND, we must not forget the indecorum of her Memoirs, or that
it was from persons of her party that vile aspersions were cast upon the
character of MARIE ANTOINETTE. There were men quite ready to begin the
same work over here that had been done in France, and that in a spirit
of vulgar imitation, and under quite different circumstances. They had
to be shot down like mad dogs; for a cur, though contemptible in
ordinary cases, becomes tragic when he has hydrophobia.

“For _The Anti-Jacobin_ must be claimed an honour which can be claimed
for scarce one of the works we have passed under review. Let us waive
the question how much we may have owed it for helping to inspire that
unity and stout insular self-confidence which carried us through the
great war,—whole within and impervious without. Let us consider it only
in a literary point of view, and we shall find it enjoying the rare
distinction that its best Satires live in real popular remembrance. The
_Knife-Grinder_, with his

          “‘_Story! God bless you, I have none to tell, sir_,’

is almost as widely known as our nursery rhymes.

“But if _The Anti-Jacobin_ excels all similar works in popularity, and
in the eminence of its contributors, it also excels them in another
important particular. It contains on the whole a greater number of
really good things than any one of them. The _Loves of the Triangles_,
in which,

              “‘Th’ obedient Pulley strong Mechanics ply,
              And wanton Optics roll the melting eye!’

is an irresistible parody, and likely to keep the original of Darwin
[_Loves of the Plants_] in remembrance. Gray’s Odes have survived the
burlesques of Colman; and the _Country and City Mouse_ of Prior and
Montague is neglected by nine-tenths of those who read with admiration
the _Hind and the Panther_. But Darwin’s case is peculiar. Other poems
live in spite of ridicule; and his _Loves of the Plants_ in consequence
of it. The Attic salt of his enemies has preserved his reputation.

“There is always a purpose in _The Anti-Jacobin’s_ view something more
important than the mere persiflage that teases individuals. Like the
blade of Damascus, which has a verse of the Koran engraved on it, its
fine wit glitters terribly in the cause of sacred tradition.”




                       DESCRIPTION OF THE PLATES.


 THE GIANT FACTOTUM AMUSING HIMSELF.                     (FRONTISPIECE.)

    PITT, with his right hand is playing at cup and
    ball; the latter being a globe to denote his
    influence over foreign countries as well as at home.
    His right foot is supported by DUNDAS and
    WILBERFORCE, and is extended to be submissively
    kissed by his ministerial followers, foremost of
    whom is CANNING. With his left foot he has crushed
    the Opposition. On the same side is a document
    labelled “Resources for supporting the War,” with a
    collection of coin, evidently destined for foreign
    subsidies. On his right side are various official
    returns of volunteers, seamen, regulars, and
    militia. He is thus prepared to carry on the war
    abroad, and maintain tranquillity at home.

 THE FRIEND OF HUMANITY AND THE KNIFE-GRINDER.           Page 23

    Scene, the Borough of Southwark, with a portrait of
    GEORGE TIERNEY, its able and radical representative.
    Published Dec. 4, 1797, as a graphic illustration of
    the Parody of Southey’s poem, _The Widow_.

 LORD LONGBOW, THE ALARMIST, DISCOVERING THE MISERIES OF
   IRELAND.                                              Page 78

    A characteristic portrait of the gallant and
    excellent EARL OF MOIRA, afterwards MARQUIS OF
    HASTINGS, and Governor-General of India. The
    engraving is in ridicule of his complaint, in the
    House of Lords, of the cruelties exercised by the
    Government troops on the Irish Rebels. In the
    distance is seen Moll Coggin, an Irish witch,
    mounted on a black Ram with a blue tail, and on the
    hill an Oak-boy, carrying an uprooted oak, on the
    branches of which are numerous swans—in allusion to
    the unfounded nature of his charges.

 THE LOYAL TOAST.                                        Page 94

    Representing the DUKE OF NORFOLK giving at a dinner
    at the Crown and Anchor Tavern in honour of the
    birth-day of FOX his famous toast, “Our Sovereign’s
    Health—The Majesty of the People”. On the left is
    JOHN NICHOLLS, Member for Tregony; next to him is
    the DUKE OF BEDFORD; on the other side of the table
    are SHERIDAN and FOX.

 DESIGN FOR THE NEW GALLERY OF BUSTS AND PICTURES.       Page 99

    The statue of FOX was placed between those of
    Demosthenes and Cicero, by the EMPRESS CATHERINE OF
    RUSSIA, as a compliment to him for having
    successfully opposed the sending of the armament
    prepared by PITT, in conjunction with Prussia and
    Holland, to compel her to give up Ockzakow which she
    had seized. As this caricature, including the
    verses, was originally published in March, 1793, the
    latter in _The Anti-Jacobin_ must have been
    suggested by them.

 THE REPUBLICAN RATTLESNAKE FASCINATING THE BEDFORD
   SQUIRREL.                                             Page 285

    In allusion to the influence exercised by FOX over
    FRANCIS, fifth DUKE OF BEDFORD, who had become one
    of the most zealous of the popular party.




                               PROSPECTUS
                                   OF
                           THE ANTI-JACOBIN;
                                  OR,
                            WEEKLY EXAMINER,

  The FIRST NUMBER of which will be published on MONDAY, the 20th of
  NOVEMBER, 1797, to be continued every Monday during the sitting of
  Parliament. Price 6d.

              ——_Possit quid vivida virtus
              Experiare, licet: nec longe scilicet hostes
              Quærendi._


At a moment, when whatever may be the habits of inquiry and the anxiety
for information upon subjects of public concern diffused among all ranks
of people, the vehicles of intelligence are already multiplied in a
proportion nearly equal to this encreased demand, and to the encreased
importance and variety of matter, some apology may perhaps be necessary
for the obtrusion of a new Paper upon the World; and some account may
reasonably be expected of the views and principles on which it founds
its pretensions to notice, before it can hope to make its way through
the crowd of competitors which have gotten the start of it in the race
for public favour.

  [As this _Prospectus_ was written by MR. CANNING, and it has been
  prefixed only to the former edition of the _Poetry_ by the present
  Editor, it is again considered an interesting addition to the
  present one.]

The grounds upon which such pretensions have usually been rested by
those who have engaged in undertakings of this kind, are accuracy,
variety, and priority of Intelligence, connections at home,
correspondence abroad, and, above all, a profession of impartial and
unprejudiced attention to all opinions, and to all parties and
descriptions of men.

On none of these Topicks is it Our intention to enlarge.

Of Our means of information, and of the use which We make of them, our
readers will, after a very short trial, be enabled to form their own
opinion. And to that trial We confidently commit ourselves: professing,
however, at the same time, that if the only advantage which We were
desirous of holding out to our Readers, were that of having it in our
power to apprize them an hour or a day sooner than those Journals, which
are already in their hands, of any event however important—We should
bring to the undertaking much less anxiety for success, and should state
our claims on public attention with much less boldness, than We are
disposed to do in the consciousness of higher purposes, and more
beneficial views.

Novelty indeed We have to announce. For what so new in the present state
of the daily and weekly PRESS (We speak generally, though there are
undoubtedly exceptions which we may have occasion to point out
hereafter) as THE TRUTH? To this object alone it is that Our labours are
dedicated. It is the constant violation, the disguise, the perversion of
the Truth, whether in narrative or in argument, that will form the
principal subject of our WEEKLY EXAMINATION: and it is by a diligent and
faithful discharge of this duty—by detecting falsehood, and rectifying
error, by correcting misrepresentation, and exposing and chastising
malignity—that We hope to deserve the reception which We solicit, and to
obtain not only the approbation of the Country to our attempt, but its
thanks for the motives which have given birth to it.

These are strong words. But We are conscious of intending in earnest
what they profess. How far the execution of our purpose may correspond
with the design, it is for others to determine. It is ours to state that
design fairly, and in the spirit in which we conceive it.

Of the utility of such a purpose, if even tolerably executed, there can
be little doubt, among those persons (a very large part of the
community) who must have found themselves, during the course of the last
few years, perplexed by the multiplicity of contradictory accounts of
almost every material event that has occurred in that eventful and
tremendous period; and who must anxiously have wished for some public
channel of information on which they could confidently rely for forming
their opinion.

But before We can expect sufficient credit from persons of this
description, to enable us to supply such a defect, and to assume an
office so important, it is natural that they should require some
profession of our principles as well as of our purposes; in order that
they may judge not only of our ability to communicate the information
which We promise, but of our intention to inform them aright.

To that freedom from _partiality_ and _prejudice_, of which We have
spoken above, by the profession of which so many of our Contemporaries
recommend themselves, We make little pretension—at least in the sense in
which those terms appear now too often to be used.

We have not arrived (to our shame perhaps we avow it) at that wild and
unshackled freedom of thought, which rejects all habit, all wisdom of
former times, all restraints of ancient usage, and of local attachment;
and which judges upon each subject, whether of politicks or morals, as
it arises, by lights entirely its own, without reference to recognized
principle, or established practice.

We confess, whatever disgrace may attend such a confession, that We have
not so far gotten the better of the influence of long habits and early
education, not so far imbibed that spirit of liberal indifference, of
diffused and comprehensive philanthropy, which distinguishes the candid
character of the present age, but that We have our feelings, our
preferences, and our affections, attaching on particular places,
manners, and institutions, and even on particular portions of the human
race.

It may be thought a narrow and illiberal distinction—but We avow
ourselves to be _partial_ to the COUNTRY _in which we live_,
notwithstanding the daily panegyricks which we read and hear on the
superior virtues and endowments of its rival and hostile neighbours. We
are _prejudiced_ in favour of _her_ Establishments, civil and religious;
though without claiming for either that ideal perfection, which modern
philosophy professes to discover in the other more luminous systems
which are arising on all sides of us.

The safety and prosperity of _these kingdoms_, however unimportant they
may seem in abstract contemplation when compared with the more
extensive, more beautiful, and more productive parts of the world, do
yet excite in our minds a peculiar interest and anxiety; and will
probably continue to occupy a share of our attention by no means
justified by the proportional consequence which speculative reasoners
may think proper to assign to them in the scale of the universe.

We should be averse to hazarding the smallest part of the practical
happiness of _this Country_; though the sacrifice should be recommended
as necessary for accomplishing throughout the world an uniform and
beautiful system of theoretical liberty: and We should at all times
exert our best endeavours for upholding its constitution, even with all
the human imperfections which may belong to it, though We were assured
that on its ruins might be erected the only pillar that is yet wanting
to complete the “_most glorious fabrick which the Integrity and Wisdom
of man have raised since the Creation_”.

If, as Philosopher MONGE[6] avers, in his eloquent and instructive
address to the Directory, “_The Government of England and the French
Republick cannot exist together_,” We do not hesitate in our choice;
though well aware that in that choice we may be much liable, in the
opinion of many critics of the present day, to the imputation of a want
of candour or of discernment.

Admirers of military heroism, and dazzled by military success in common
with other men, We are yet even _here_ conscious of some qualification
and distinction in our feelings: We acknowledge ourselves apt to look
with more complacency on bravery and skill, when displayed in the
service of our Country, than when We see them directed against its
interests or its safety; and, however equal the claims to admiration in
either case may be, We feel our hearts grow warmer at the recital of
what has been atchieved by HOWE, by JERVIS, or by DUNCAN, than at the
“_glorious victory of Jemappe_,” or “_the immortal battle of the bridge
of Lodi_”.

In MORALS We are equally old-fashioned. We have not yet learned the
modern refinement of referring in all considerations upon human conduct,
not to any settled and preconceived principles of right and wrong, not
to any general and fundamental rules which experience, and wisdom, and
justice, and the common consent of mankind have established, but to the
internal admonitions of every man’s judgment or conscience in his own
particular instance.

We do not dissemble,—that We reverence LAW,—We acknowledge USAGE,—We
look even upon PRESCRIPTION without hatred or horror. And we do not
think these, or any of them, less safe guides for the moral actions of
men, than that new and liberal system of ETHICS, whose operation is not
to bind but to loosen the bands of social order; whose doctrine is
formed not on a system of reciprocal duties, but on the supposition of
individual, independent, and unconnected rights; which teaches that all
men are pretty equally honest, but that some have different notions of
honesty from others, and that the most received notions are for the
greater part the most faulty.

We do not subscribe to the opinion, that a sincere conviction of the
truth of no matter what principle, is a sufficient defence for no matter
what action; and that the only business of moral enquiry with human
conduct is to ascertain that in each case the principle and the action
agree. We have not yet persuaded ourselves to think it a sound, or a
safe doctrine, that every man who can divest himself of a moral sense in
theory, has a right to be with impunity and without disguise a scoundrel
in practice. It is not in our creed, that ATHEISM is as good a faith as
CHRISTIANITY, provided it be professed with equal sincerity; nor could
We admit it as an excuse for MURDER, that the murderer was in his own
mind conscientiously persuaded that the murdered might for many good
reasons be better out of the way.

Of all these and the like principles, in one word, of JACOBINISM in all
its shapes, and in all its degrees, political and moral, public and
private, whether as it openly threatens the subversion of States, or
gradually saps the foundations of domestic happiness, We are the avowed,
determined, and irreconcileable enemies. We have no desire to divest
ourselves of these inveterate prejudices; but shall remain stubborn and
incorrigible in resisting every attempt which may be made either by
argument or (what is more in the charitable spirit of modern reformers)
by force, to convert us to a different opinion.


It remains only to speak of the details of our PLAN.

It is our intention to publish Weekly, during the Session of Parliament,
a Paper, containing,

First, An Abstract of the important events of the week, both at home and
abroad.

Secondly, Such Reflections as may naturally arise out of them: and,

Thirdly, A contradiction and confutation of the falsehoods and
misrepresentations concerning these events, their causes, and their
consequences, which may be found in the Papers devoted to the cause of
SEDITION and IRRELIGION, to the pay or principles of FRANCE.

This last, as it is by far the most important, will in all probability
be the most copious of the three heads; and is that to which, above all
others, We wish to direct the attention of our Readers.

We propose diligently to collect, as far as the range of our own daily
reading will enable us, and We promise willingly to receive, from
whatever quarter they may come, the several articles of this kind which
require to be thus contradicted or confuted; which will naturally divide
themselves into different classes, according to their different degrees
of stupidity or malignity.

There are, for instance (to begin with those of the highest order), the
LIES of the Week; the downright, direct, unblushing falsehoods, which
have no colour or foundation whatever, and which must at the very moment
of their being written, have been known to the writer to be wholly
destitute of truth.

Next in rank come MISREPRESENTATIONS which, taking for their groundwork
facts in substance true, do so colour and distort them in description,
as to take away all semblance of their real nature and character.

Lastly, The most venial, though by no means the least mischievous class,
are MISTAKES; under which description are included all those Hints,
Conjectures, and Apprehensions, those Anticipations of Sorrow and
Deprecations of Calamity, in which Writers who labour under too great an
anxiety for the Public Welfare are apt to indulge; and which, when
falsified by the event, they are generally too much occupied to find
leisure to retract or disavow:—A trouble which We shall have great
pleasure in taking off these Gentlemen’s hands.

To each of these several articles We shall carefully affix the name and
date of the Publication from which We may take the liberty of borrowing
it.


With regard to the PROCEEDINGS IN PARLIAMENT, We shall not fail to mark
to Our Readers the progress of the public business; though it does not
enter into our Plan to give a regular detail of the Debates: nor would
the limits of our Paper allow of it.

We have a further reason for not occupying this province, which will
equally account for our determination, not to receive Advertisements—our
earnest desire not to lessen the circulation of any existing Public
Print.

It is obvious upon every ground of fairness and of policy, that We must
entertain this desire very strongly with regard to the respectable
Papers which are directed by principles and attachments like our own: an
attachment (We have no wish to disguise it) to the cause of a
GOVERNMENT, with whose support, whose popularity and consequent means of
exertion, the circumstances of the present times have essentially
connected the existence of THIS COUNTRY as an independent Nation.

As little should we wish to circumscribe the sale of those JOURNALS,
upon whose errors or perverseness, upon whose false statements and
pernicious doctrines We reckon for the main support, as they have been
the principal cause of our undertaking. These We would entreat to
proceed with fresh vigour and increased activity. It is our wish to be
seen together, and to be compared with them. Every week of
misrepresentation will be followed by its weekly comment; and with this
corrective faithfully administered, the longest course of MORNING
CHRONICLES or MORNING POSTS, of STARS or COURIERS, may become not only
innocent but beneficial.

With these views then We commence our undertaking. Whatever may be the
success or the merit of its execution in our hands, the want of
something like it has so long been felt and deplored by all thinking and
honest men, that We cannot doubt of the approbation and encouragement
with which the attempt will be received.

We claim the support, and We invite the assistance, of ALL, who think
with US that the circumstances and character of the age in which We live
require every exertion of every man, who loves his COUNTRY in the old
way, in which till of late years the LOVE of one’s COUNTRY was professed
by most men, and by none disclaimed or reviled; of ALL who think that
the PRESS has been long enough employed principally as an engine of
destruction, and who wish to see the experiment fairly tried whether
that engine, by which many of the States which surround us have been
overthrown, and others shaken to their foundations, may not be turned
into an instrument of defence for the one remaining COUNTRY which has
ESTABLISHMENTS to protect, and a GOVERNMENT with the spirit, and the
power, and the wisdom to protect them; of ALL who look with respect to
public honour, and with attachment to the decencies of private life; of
ALL who have so little deference for the arrogant intolerance of
JACOBINISM as still to contemplate the OFFICE and the PERSON of a KING
with veneration, and to speak reverently of RELIGION, without
apologizing for the singularity of their opinions; of ALL who think the
blessings which we enjoy valuable, and who think them in danger; and
who, while they detest and despise the principles and the professors of
that NEW FAITH by which the foundations of all those blessings are
threatened to be undermined, lament the lukewarmness with which its
propagation has hitherto been resisted, and are anxious, while there is
yet time, to make every effort in the cause of their COUNTRY.

                  *       *       *       *       *

  Published by J. WRIGHT, No. 169, opposite Old Bond Street,
  Piccadilly: by whom Orders for the Papers, and all Communications of
  Correspondents, addressed to the Editor of the ANTI-JACOBIN, or
  WEEKLY EXAMINER, will be received. Sold also by all the Booksellers
  and Newsmen in Town and Country.




                                 POETRY

                                   OF

                           THE ANTI-JACOBIN.




                                 No. I.


                             INTRODUCTION.

                                                          Nov. 20, 1797.

In our anxiety to provide for the amusement as well as information of
our readers, we have not omitted to make all the inquiries in our power
for ascertaining the means of procuring poetical assistance. And it
would give us no small satisfaction to be able to report that we had
succeeded in this point precisely in the manner which would best have
suited our own taste and feelings, as well as those which we wish to
cultivate in our readers.

But whether it be that good Morals, and what we should call good
Politics, are inconsistent with the spirit of true Poetry—whether “_the
Muses still with freedom found_” have an aversion to _regular_
governments, and require a frame and system of protection less
complicated than king, lords, and commons:—

           “Whether primordial _nonsense_ springs to life[7]
           In the wild war of _democratic_ strife,”

and there only—or for whatever other reason it may be, whether physical,
or moral, or philosophical (which last is understood to mean something
more than the other two, though exactly _what_, it is difficult to say),
we have not been able to find one good and true Poet, of sound
principles and sober practice, upon whom we could rely for furnishing us
with a handsome quantity of sufficient and approved verse—such verse as
our readers might be expected to get by heart, and to sing; as the
worthy philosopher MONGE describes the little children of Sparta and
Athens singing the songs of Freedom, in expectation of the coming of
_the Great Nation_.

In this difficulty we have had no choice but either to provide no poetry
at all—a shabby expedient—or to go to the only market where it is to be
had good and ready made, that of the _Jacobins_—an expedient full of
danger, and not to be used but with the utmost caution and delicacy.

To this latter expedient, however, after mature deliberation, we have
determined to have recourse; qualifying it at the same time with such
precautions as may conduce at once to the safety of our readers’
principles, and to the improvement of our own poetry.

For this double purpose, we shall select from time to time from among
those effusions of the _Jacobin_ Muse which happen to fall in our way,
such pieces as may serve to illustrate some one of the principles on
which the poetical as well as the political doctrine of the NEW SCHOOL
is established—prefacing each of them, for our readers’ sake, with a
short disquisition on the particular tenet intended to be enforced or
insinuated in the production before them—and accompanying it with an
humble effort of our own, in imitation of the poem itself, and in
further illustration of its principle.

By these means, though we cannot hope to catch “_the wood-notes wild_”
of the Bards of Freedom, we may yet acquire, by dint of repeating after
them, a more complete knowledge of the secret in which their greatness
lies than we could by mere prosaic admiration; and if we cannot become
poets ourselves, we at least shall have collected the elements of a
_Jacobin_ Art of Poetry for the use of those whose genius may be more
capable of turning them to advantage.

It might not be unamusing to trace the springs and principles of this
species of poetry, which are to be found, some in the exaggeration, and
others in the direct inversion of the sentiments and passions which have
in all ages animated the breast of the favourite of the Muses, and
distinguished him from the “vulgar throng”.

The poet in all ages has despised riches and grandeur.

The _Jacobin_ poet improves this sentiment into a hatred of the rich and
the great.

The poet of other times has been an enthusiast in the love of his native
soil.

The _Jacobin_ poet rejects all restriction in his feelings. _His_ love
is enlarged and expanded so as to comprehend all human kind. The love of
all human kind is without doubt a noble passion: it can hardly be
necessary to mention that its operation extends to _freemen_, and them
only, all over the world.

The old poet was a warrior, at least in imagination; and sung the
actions of the heroes of his country in strains which “made Ambition
Virtue,” and which overwhelmed the horrors of war in its glory.

The _Jacobin_ poet would have no objection to sing battles too—but _he_
would take a distinction. The prowess of Buonaparte, indeed, he might
chant in his loftiest strain of exultation. _There_ we should find
nothing but trophies and triumphs and branches of laurel and olive,
phalanxes of Republicans shouting victory, satellites of despotism
biting the ground, and geniuses of Liberty planting standards on
mountain-tops.

But let his own country triumph, or her allies obtain an advantage:
straightway the “beauteous face of war” is changed; the “pride, pomp,
and circumstance” of victory are kept carefully out of sight, and we are
presented with nothing but contusions and amputations, plundered
peasants, and deserted looms. Our poet points the thunder of his blank
verse at the head of the recruiting serjeant, or roars in dithyrambics
against the lieutenants of pressgangs.

But it would be endless to chase the coy Muse of _Jacobinism_ through
all her characters. _Mille habet ornatus._ The _Mille decenter habet_ is
perhaps more questionable. For in whatever disguise she appears, whether
of mirth or of melancholy, of piety or of tenderness; under all
disguises, like _Sir John Brute_ in woman’s clothes, she is betrayed by
her drunken swagger and ruffian tone.

In the poem which we have selected for the edification of our readers
and our own imitation this day, the principles which are meant to be
inculcated speak so plainly for themselves, that they need no previous
introduction.


                             INSCRIPTION[8]
_For the Apartment in Chepstow Castle, where Henry Marten, the Regicide,
                     was imprisoned thirty years._

          For thirty years secluded from mankind
          Here MARTEN lingered. Often have these walls
          Echoed his footsteps, as with even tread
          He paced around his prison: not to him
          Did Nature’s fair varieties exist;
          He never saw the sun’s delightful beams,
          Save when through yon high bars he pour’d a sad
          And broken splendour. Dost thou ask his crime?
          He had REBELL’D AGAINST THE KING, AND SAT
          IN JUDGMENT ON HIM; for his ardent mind
          Shaped goodliest plans of happiness on earth,
          And peace and liberty. Wild dreams! but such
          As Plato loved; such as with holy zeal
          Our Milton worshipp’d. Blessed hopes! awhile
          From man withheld, even to the latter days
          When Christ shall come, and all things be fulfill’d!


                               IMITATION.
                              INSCRIPTION
    _For the Door of the Cell in Newgate, where Mrs. Brownrigg, the
        ’Prentice-cide, was confined previous to her Execution._

          For one long term, or e’er her trial came,
          Here BROWNRIGG linger’d. Often have these cells
          Echoed her blasphemies, as with shrill voice
          She screamed for fresh Geneva. Not to her
          Did the blithe fields of Tothill, or thy street,
          St. Giles, its fair varieties expand;
          Till at the last, in slow-drawn cart she went
          To execution. Dost thou ask her crime?
          SHE WHIPP’D TWO FEMALE ’PRENTICES TO DEATH,
          AND HID THEM IN THE COAL-HOLE. For her mind
          Shaped strictest plans of discipline. Sage schemes!
          Such as Lycurgus taught, when at the shrine
          Of the Orthyan goddess he bade flog
          The little Spartans; such as erst chastised
          Our Milton when at college. For this act
          Did Brownrigg swing. Harsh laws! But time shall come
          When France shall reign, and laws be all repeal’d!

  [HENRY MARTEN was one of the most interesting and remarkable of the
  Regicides, not only from his abilities and consistent honesty, but
  from the elegance of his manners, his wit, and the fascinating
  gaiety of his conversation; and, moreover, from his humane
  disposition and generosity to fallen foes. His private life,
  however, was disgraced by the most reckless debauchery, which might
  seem more appropriate in such libertines as Rochester and Sedley
  than in a coadjutor of the strict Puritan party. But from a note in
  Grey’s edition of _Hudibras_, pt. ii., ch. i., p. 313, it would
  appear that the general opinion at that time was that profligacy of
  a pronounced character was indulged in privately by more than a few
  of that sanctimonious sect.

  He was the son of Sir Henry Marten, LL.D., a loyal Judge of the
  Admiralty. After receiving a learned education at Oxford, he entered
  one of the Inns of Court, and travelled in France. Having a stake in
  Berkshire—for he inherited a property of £3000 a year, besides
  several thousand pounds in money—he was elected, 1640, one of the
  members for the county in the last two Parliaments of King Charles
  I. His chief seat was at Becket, in the parish of Shrivenham. He
  afterwards obtained a grant of £1000 a year to him and his heirs out
  of the forfeited estates of the Duke of Buckingham. His early
  marriage with a rich widow, selected by his father, but not affected
  by himself, also benefited his finances.

  From the commencement of the Civil Wars he was a violent Republican;
  and as early as 1643 openly expressed his opinion of the
  desirability of the destruction of the King and his children, for
  which rather premature advice he was expelled from the House of
  Commons, and underwent a short imprisonment in the Tower. He was
  appointed by the House of Commons a Colonel of Horse and Governor of
  Reading, but made less mark as a soldier than as a rapacious spoiler
  of the adherents of the King, which earned him the opprobrious
  nickname of “Plunder-master General”.

  Being empowered to dispose of the Regalia and royal trappings, he
  once invested GEORGE WITHER—who had been made one of Cromwell’s
  Major-Generals—with them, and so accoutred induced the old Poet to
  strut up and down Westminster Abbey to the scandal of right-thinking
  people.

  To him also were referred the alterations in the public arms, the
  Great Seal, and the legends upon the money. Upon the latter was a
  shield bearing the cross of St. George, encircled by a palm and
  olive branch, and inscribed _The Commonwealth of England_, and on
  the reverse, _God with us, 1648_; which occasioned the remark “that
  God and the Commonwealth were not on the same side”.

  Nothing apparently could damp the ill-timed jocosity too often
  prevalent in those troublous times, for at MARTEN’S trial, 16th
  October, 1660, Ewer, who had been his servant, swore that “at the
  signing of the warrant for the King’s execution he did see a pen in
  Mr. CROMWELL’S hand, and he marked Mr. MARTEN in the face with it,
  and Mr. MARTEN did the like to him”. But many of his excesses were
  condoned in the eyes of both his friends and enemies by his generous
  and humane spirit.

  D’ISRAELI, in his _Commentaries on the life and Reign of Charles
  I._, describes the ingenious way in which MARTEN saved the life of
  DAVID JENKINS, a loyal and obstinate Welsh judge, who, when brought
  to the bar of the House of Commons to answer for imprisoning several
  persons for bearing arms against the King, peremptorily disowned
  their jurisdiction, and defied them in the following bold terms:
  “‘But, Mr. Speaker, since you and this House have renounced your
  allegiance to your Sovereign, and are become a den of thieves,
  should I bow myself in this House of Rimmon the Lord would not
  pardon me’. The whole House were electrified.... He was voted guilty
  of high treason without any trial. The day of execution was then
  debated. HARRY MARTEN, who had not yet spoken, rose, not to dissent
  from the vote of the House, he observed, but he had something to say
  about the time of the execution. ‘Mr. Speaker,’ said he, ‘everyone
  must believe that this old gentleman here is fully possessed in his
  head resolved to die a martyr in his cause, for otherwise he would
  never have provoked the House by such biting expressions. If you
  execute him, you do precisely that which he hopes for, and his
  execution will have a great influence over the people, since he is
  condemned without a jury. I therefore move that we should suspend
  the day of execution, and in meantime force him to live in spite of
  his teeth.’ The drollery of the motion put the House into better
  humour, and he was reprieved. After being kept in various prisons
  for eleven years, he was released by Cromwell, and died in 1663,
  aged eighty-one.”

  Another instance may be given of MARTEN’S felicitous humour and
  humane temper. When the Commons had rid themselves of the Sovereign,
  _they voted the Lords to be dangerous and useless_. But MARTEN
  proposed an amendment in their favour; namely, that _they were
  useless, but not dangerous_.

  His speeches in the House were represented to have been not long,
  “but wondrous poynant, pertinent, and witty. He was exceedingly apt
  in apt instances; he alone hath sometimes turned the whole House.”

  He wrote several tracts on parliamentary subjects, and _Verses on
  the Death of his Nephew, Charles Edmonds, 7th July, 1661, æt. 30_.
  But the most amusing of the publications bearing his name is one
  entitled _Familiar Letters to his Lady of Delight; also her kinde
  Returnes: with his Rivall R. Pettingall’s Heroicall Epistles_.
  Printed by Edmundus de Speciosâ Villâ [_i.e._, EDMUND GAYTON].
  _Bellositi Dobunorum_ [Oxford], 1662 and 1663, 4to. Another edition,
  with additions, appeared in 1685. “These epistles,” says D’ISRAELI,
  “paint to the life the loose habits and _espiègleries_ of this witty
  profligate; and I think they have been referred to by some
  inconsiderate writers as a _genuine_ correspondence.” They were
  probably altogether concocted by GAYTON. He was severely attacked in
  various scurrilous lampoons, some of which are printed among the
  _Rump Songs_, 1662.

  On his trial he was found guilty and sentenced to death; but the
  good feeling created among many who had in his prosperous days
  enjoyed his society and hospitality, and even among many of his
  former opponents by his generous treatment of them when in danger,
  stood him in good stead, and it was by a well-timed and humorous
  appeal to the Judges—such as he himself might have used—that his
  life was saved. Henry, fourth Viscount FALKLAND, whose virtuous and
  heroic father fell at the first Battle of Newbury while fighting for
  the King, said to the Judges: “Gentlemen, ye talk here of making a
  _sacrifice_: it was old law that all sacrifices were to be without
  spot or blemish; and now you are going to make an old rotten rascal
  a sacrifice”. This piece of wit pleased his Judges, and his sentence
  was commuted to imprisonment for life. He was confined in Chepstow
  Castle, Monmouthshire, for twenty years, and died in September,
  1680, aged seventy-eight.

  He must have felt some contrition for his vicious life, for some
  time before his death he made this epitaph, by way of _acrostic_, on
  himself:

          H ere, or elsewhere (all’s one to you, to me),
          E arth, air, or water gripes my ghostly dust,
          N one knowing when brave fire shall set it free.
          R eader, if you an oft tryed rule will trust,
          Y ou’ll gladly do and suffer what you must.

          M y life was worn with serving you and you,
          A nd now death’s my pay, it seems, and welcome too.
          R evenge destroying but itself, while I
          T o birds of prey leave my old cage, and fly.
          E xamples preach to the eye, care (then mine says)
          N ot how you end, but how you spend your days.

  “In Cromwell’s time CHEPSTOW CASTLE served as a place of
  imprisonment for Jeremy Taylor; and, after the Restoration, it
  received a less illustrious occupant in the person of HARRY MARTEN,
  the Regicide, whose imprisonment here has attracted more than its
  share of notice in consequence of the foolish lines written by
  SOUTHEY in his days of republicanism and pantisocracy, but which are
  as untrue in _fact_ as they are mischievous in _sentiment_. As to
  the _fact_, it is notorious that MARTEN—at all events after the
  first few years of his imprisonment—was little more than a prisoner
  on parole; allowed to visit the neighbouring gentry, and occupying
  at Chepstow Castle, with his family and servants, spacious and
  comfortable apartments in the tower which still bears his name. As
  to the _sentiment_, the lines received their best antidote in the
  clever parody of Canning and Frere in _The Anti-Jacobin_.”—_Annals
  of Chepstow Castle_, by J. F. Marsh, 1883; 4to.]

  [Mrs. Elizabeth Brownrigg was executed at Tyburn on Monday, 14th
  Sept., 1767, for murdering one of her apprentices, Mary
  Clifford.—ED.]

[Illustration]




                                No. II.


                                                          Nov. 27, 1797.

In the specimen of JACOBIN POETRY which we gave in our last number was
developed a principle, perhaps one of the most universally recognised in
the Jacobin creed; namely, “that the animadversion of _human law_ upon
_human actions_ is for the most part nothing but _gross oppression_; and
that, in all cases of the administration of _criminal justice_, the
truly benevolent mind will consider only the _severity of the
punishment_, without any reference to the _malignity of the crime_”.
This principle has of late years been laboured with extraordinary
industry, and brought forward in a variety of shapes, for the
edification of the public. It has been inculcated in bulky quartos, and
illustrated in popular novels. It remained only to fit it with a
poetical dress, which had been attempted in the INSCRIPTION for CHEPSTOW
CASTLE, and which (we flatter ourselves) was accomplished in that for
MRS. BROWNRIGG’S CELL.

Another principle, no less devoutly entertained, and no less sedulously
disseminated, is the _natural and eternal warfare of the_ POOR _and the_
RICH. In those orders and gradations of society, which are the natural
result of the original difference of talents and of industry among
mankind, the Jacobin sees nothing but a graduated scale of violence and
cruelty. He considers every rich man as an oppressor, and every person
in a lower situation as the victim of avarice, and the slave of
aristocratical insolence and contempt. These truths he declares loudly,
not to excite compassion, or to soften the consciousness of superiority
in the higher, but for the purpose of aggravating discontent in the
inferior orders.

A human being, in the lowest state of penury and distress, is a treasure
to the reasoner of this cast. He contemplates, he examines, he turns him
in every possible light, with a view of extracting from the variety of
his wretchedness new topics of invective against the pride of property.
He, indeed (if he is a true Jacobin), refrains from _relieving_ the
object of his compassionate contemplation; as well knowing that every
diminution from the general mass of human misery must proportionably
diminish the force of his argument.

This principle is treated at large by many authors. It is versified in
sonnets and elegies without end. We trace it particularly in a poem by
the same author [SOUTHEY] from whom we borrowed our former illustration
of the Jacobin doctrine of crimes and punishments. In this poem, the
pathos of the matter is not a little relieved by the absurdity of the
metre. We shall not think it necessary to transcribe the whole of it, as
our imitation does not pretend to be so literal as in the last instance,
but merely aspires to convey some idea of the manner and sentiment of
the original. One stanza, however, we must give, lest we should be
suspected of painting from fancy, and not from life.

The learned reader will perceive that the metre is SAPPHIC, and affords
a fine opportunity for his _scanning_ and _proving_, if he has not
forgotten them.

         Cōld wăs thē nīght wīnd; drĭftĭng fāst thĕ snōws fĕll;
         Wīde wĕre thē dōwns, ānd shĕltĕrlēss ănd nākēd:
         Whēn ă poōr wānd’rēr strŭgglĕd ōn hĕr joūrnĕy,
                                     Wēāry ănd wāy-sōre.[9]

[Illustration: ]

This is enough; unless the reader should wish to be informed how

          Fāst o’ĕr thē blēāk hēāth răttlĭng drōve ă chārīōt;

Or how, not long after,

            Loūd blĕw thē wīnd, ūnhēārd wăs hēr cŏmplāinĭng—
                              Ōn wĕnt thĕ hōrsemān.

We proceed to give our IMITATION, which is of the _Amœbæan_ or
_Collocutory_ kind.


                               SAPPHICS.
             THE FRIEND OF HUMANITY AND THE KNIFE-GRINDER.

                      FRIEND OF HUMANITY.[10]

        “Needy Knife-grinder! whither are you going?
        Rough is the road, your wheel is out of order—
        Bleak blows the blast; your hat has got a hole in’t,
                                  So have your breeches!

        “Weary Knife-grinder! little think the proud ones,
        Who in their coaches roll along the turnpike-
        -road what hard work ’tis crying all day “Knives and
                                  Scissars to grind O!”

        “Tell me, Knife-grinder, how you came to grind knives?
        Did some rich man tyrannically use you?
        Was it the squire? or parson of the parish?
                                  Or the attorney?

        “Was it the squire, for killing of his game? or
        Covetous parson, for his tithes distraining?
        Or roguish lawyer, made you lose your little
                                  All in a lawsuit?

        “(Have you not read the Rights of Man, by Tom Paine?)
        Drops of compassion tremble on my eyelids,
        Ready to fall, as soon as you have told your
                                  Pitiful story.”

                          KNIFE-GRINDER.

        “Story! God bless you! I have none to tell, sir,
        Only last night a-drinking at the Chequers,
        This poor old hat and breeches, as you see, were
                                  Torn in a scuffle.

        “Constables came up for to take me into
        Custody; they took me before the justice;
        Justice Oldmixon put me in the parish-
                                  -Stocks for a vagrant.

        “I should be glad to drink your Honour’s health in
        A pot of beer, if you will give me sixpence;
        But for my part, I never love to meddle
                                  With politics, sir.”

                        FRIEND OF HUMANITY.

        “_I_ give thee sixpence! I will see thee damned first—
        Wretch! whom no sense of wrongs can rouse to vengeance—
        Sordid, unfeeling, reprobate, degraded,
                                  Spiritless outcast!”

     [_Kicks the Knife-grinder, overturns his wheel, and exit in a
    transport of Republican enthusiasm and universal philanthropy._]




                                No. III.


                                                          Nov. 30, 1797.

We have received the following from a loyal correspondent, and we shall
be very happy at any time to be relieved, by communications of a similar
tendency, from the drudgery of Jacobinical imitations.


                           THE INVASION;[11]
                       OR, THE BRITISH WAR SONG.

           _To the Tune of_ “Whilst happy in my native land”.

                                   I.

             Whilst happy in our native land,
               So great, so famed in story,
             Let’s join, my friends, with heart and hand
               To raise our country’s glory:
             When Britain calls, her valiant sons
               Will rush in crowds to aid her—
             Snatch, snatch your muskets, prime your guns,
               And crush the fierce invader!
                 Whilst every Briton’s song shall be,
                 “O give us Death—or Victory!”

                                   II.

             Long had this favour’d isle enjoy’d
               True comforts, past expressing,
             When _France_ her hellish arts employ’d
               To rob us of each blessing:
             These from our hearths by force to tear
               (Which long we’ve learned to cherish)
             Our frantic foes shall vainly dare;
               We’ll keep ’em or we’ll perish—
                 And every day our song shall be,
                 “O give us Death—or Victory!”

                                   III.

             Let France in savage accents sing
               Her bloody Revolution;
             We prize our country, love our king,
               Adore our constitution;
             For these we’ll every danger face,
               And quit our rustic labours;
             Our ploughs to firelocks shall give place;
               Our scythes be changed to sabres;
                 And clad in arms, our song shall be,
                “O give us Death—or Victory!”

                                   IV.

             Soon shall the proud invaders learn,
               When bent on blood and plunder,
             That British bosoms nobly burn
               To brave their cannon’s thunder:
             Low lie those heads, whose wily arts
               Have plann’d the world’s undoing!
             Our vengeful blades shall reach those hearts
               Which seek our country’s ruin;
                 And night and morn our song shall be,
                 “O give us Death—or Victory!”

                                   V.

             When, with French blood our fields manured,
               The glorious struggle’s ended,
             We’ll sing the dangers we’ve endured,
               The blessings we’ve defended:
             O’er the full bowl our feats we’ll tell,
               Each gallant deed reciting;
             And weep o’er those who nobly fell
               Their country’s battle fighting—
                 And ever thence our song shall be,
                 “’Tis VALOUR leads to VICTORY”.

                  *       *       *       *       *

  [The following Song which furnished the hints for the one above was
  written by MILES PETER ANDREWS, M.P. for Bewdley, and a dealer in
  gunpowder; but his Plays, Prologues, Verses, &c., by no means
  resemble so active a composition. He, with other members of the
  “_Della Crusca_,” was savagely attacked and extinguished by W.
  Gifford in “_The Baviad_”. His song was set to music by Sir HENRY
  BISHOP. He died in 1814.

                                  I.

              Whilst happy in my native land
                I boast my country’s charter,
              I’ll never basely lend my hand
                Her liberties to barter.
              The noble mind is not at all
                By poverty degraded;
              ’Tis guilt alone can make us fall,
                And well am I persuaded,
                  Each free-born Briton’s song should be,
                  “Oh! give me Death or Liberty!”

                                  II.

              Though small the pow’r which Fortune grants,
                And few the gifts she sends us,
              The lordly hireling often wants
                That freedom which defends us.
              By law secur’d from lawless strife,
                Our house is our _castellum_;
              Thus, blessed with all that’s dear in life,
                For lucre shall we sell ’em?
                  No,—ev’ry Briton’s song should be,
                  “Oh! give me Death or Liberty!”
                                                      ED.]

[Illustration]




                                No. IV.


                                                           Dec. 4, 1797.

We have been favoured with the following specimen of Jacobin Poetry,
which we give to the world without any comment or imitation. We are
informed (we know not how truly) that it will be sung at the meeting of
the Friends of Freedom; an account of which is anticipated in our
present paper.[12]


                         LA SAINTE GUILLOTINE.
                             =A New Song.=
                       ATTEMPTED FROM THE FRENCH.

    _Tune_—“O’er the vine-covered hills and gay regions of France”.

                             I.

   From the blood-bedew’d valleys and mountains of France,
   See the Genius of Gallic INVASION advance!
   Old ocean shall waft her, unruffled by storm,
   While our shores are all lined with the “_Friends of Reform_”.[13]
   Confiscation and Murder attend in her train,
   With meek-eyed Sedition, the daughter of PAINE;[14]
   While her sportive _Poissardes_ with light footsteps are seen
   To dance in a ring round the gay _Guillotine_.[15]

                             II.

   To _London_, “the rich, the defenceless”[16] she comes—
   Hark! my boys, to the sound of the Jacobin drums!
   See Corruption, Prescription, and Privilege fly,
   Pierced through by the glance of her blood-darting eye.
   While patriots, from prison and prejudice freed,
   In soft accents shall lisp the Republican creed,
   And with tri-colour’d fillets, and cravats of green,
   Shall crowd round the altar of _Saint Guillotine_.

                             III.

   See the level of Freedom sweeps over the land—
   The vile Aristocracy’s doom is at hand!
   Not a seat shall be left in a House _that we know_,
   But for _Earl_ BUONAPARTE and _Baron_ MOREAU.
   But the rights of the Commons shall still be respected,
   Buonaparte himself shall approve the elected;
   And the Speaker shall march with majestical mien,
   And make his three bows to the grave _Guillotine_.

                             IV.

   Two heads, says the proverb, are better than one,
   But the Jacobin choice is for Five Heads or none.
   By Directories only can Liberty thrive;
   Then down with the ONE, Boys! and up with the FIVE!
   How our bishops and judges will stare with amazement,
   When their heads are thrust out at the _National Casement_![17]
   When the _National Razor_[17] has shaved them quite clean,
   What a handsome oblation to _Saint Guillotine_!

  [The following _Lines_ were written by an ardent reformer, W.
  ROSCOE, the accomplished author of the “Life of Leo X.,” and other
  works, to commemorate the taking of the Bastille (14th July, 1789),
  and the publication by the National Assembly (on 20th August
  following) of the famous “Declaration of Rights”—a manifesto which
  became the creed of the Revolution, and which promulgated, as the
  basis of social government, the specious but impracticable doctrines
  of _liberty_, _equality_, and _the sovereignty of the people_
  exercised by universal suffrage. How the hopes and anticipations of
  moderate reformers, as embodied in these lines, were falsified by
  the spoliations and massacres which rapidly followed are but too
  well known.

  When, therefore, the _Anti-Jacobin_ was established to combat the
  principles of the Revolution, these _Lines_ were, for party
  purposes, maliciously referred to, and significantly recommended to
  be “recited on the anniversary of the 14th August”. To make this
  allusion more clear, it must be remembered that on the 10th August,
  1792, after frightful massacres, the Hotel de Ville was seized and
  the Tuileries stormed. On the 13th the king and family were
  imprisoned in the Temple. His deposition, the dismissal of the
  Ministers, and the formation of a National Convention, on more
  popular principles than the Legislative Assembly, were decreed by
  the victors. On the 14th Le Brun became Minister for Foreign
  Affairs, Danton for Justice, and Monge for Marine; while the
  Girondist Ministers, Roland, Servan, and Clavière, resumed their
  former functions as Ministers of the Interior, War, and Finance
  respectively.

  The Song, _La Sainte Guillotine_, was evidently written as a
  _Contrast_, and not as a _Parody_—a few lines at the beginning only
  excepted, which serve as an introduction to verses on another
  promised phase of the Revolution, the invasion of England.—ED.]


                                 LINES.

 Written for the purpose of being recited on the Anniversary of the 14th
                    of August. By WILLIAM ROSCOE, Esq.

         O’er the vine-covered hills and gay regions of France,
           See the day-star of liberty rise;
         Through the clouds of detraction unsullied advance,
           And hold its new course through the skies!
         An effulgence so mild, with a lustre so bright,
           All Europe with wonder surveys;
         And, from deserts of darkness and dungeons of night,
           Contends for a share of the blaze.

         Ah! who ’midst the horrors of night would abide,
           That can breathe the pure breezes of morn?
         Or who, that has drunk the pure crystalline tide,
           To the feculent flood would return?
         When the bosom of Beauty the throbbing heart meets,
           Ah, who can the transport decline?
         Or who, that has tasted of Liberty’s sweets,
           The prize but with life would resign?

         Let Burke like a bat from its splendour retire,
           A splendour too strong for his eyes;
         Let pedants and fools his effusions admire,
           Entrapt in his cobwebs like flies.
         Shall insolent Sophistry hope to prevail
           Where Reason opposes her weight,
         When the welfare of millions is hung in the scale,
           And the balance yet trembles with fate?

         But ’tis over—high Heaven the decision approves,
           Oppression has struggled in vain,
         To the hell she has form’d Superstition removes,
           And Tyranny bites his own chain.
         In the records of Time a new era unfolds,
           All nature exults in its birth;
         His creation benign the Creator beholds,
           And gives a new charter to earth.

         Oh! catch the high import, ye winds, as ye blow;
           Oh! hear it, ye waves, as ye roll,
         From regions that feel the sun’s vertical glow,
           To the farthest extremes of the Pole.
         _Equal rights, equal laws_, to the nations around,
           Peace and friendship its precepts impart,
         And wherever the footsteps of man shall be found,
           He shall bind the decree on his heart.

                  *       *       *       *       *

  [The Account of what was “anticipated to take place at the _Meeting
  of the Friends of Freedom_”—alluded to on page 29—duly appeared in
  _The Anti-Jacobin_, but has never hitherto formed a part of the
  collection of its Poetry. As it is marked by much ability, and has
  been often quoted, it appears to the editor desirable to introduce
  some portion of it into the present edition of the _Poetry_.


                   MEETING OF THE FRIENDS OF FREEDOM.

  The _House of Russell_ being given, LORD JOHN and LORD WILLIAM both
  rose at once.

  LORD JOHN made a very neat, and LORD WILLIAM a very appropriate
  speech.

  ALDERMAN COOMBE made a very impressive speech.

  MR. TIERNEY made a very pointed speech.

  MR. GREY made a very fine speech. He described the ministers as
  “bold bad men”—their measures he repeatedly declared to be not only
  “weak, but wicked”.

  MR. BYNG said a few words.

  GENERAL TARLETON and the _Electors of Liverpool_ being given, the
  General, after an eulogium on Mr. Fox, begged to anticipate their
  favourite concluding toast, and to give “_The Cause of Freedom all
  over the World_”. This toast unfortunately gave rise to an
  altercation which threatened to disturb the harmony of the evening.
  Olaudah Equiano, the African, and Henry Yorke, the mulatto, insisted
  upon being heard; but as it appeared that they were entering upon a
  subject which would have entirely altered the complexion of the
  Meeting, they were, though not without some difficulty, withheld
  from proceeding further.

  MR. ERSKINE rose, in consequence of some allusions which had been
  made to Trial by Jury. He professed himself to be highly flattered
  by the encomiums which had been lavished upon him; at the same time
  he was conscious that he could not, without some degree of reserve,
  consent to arrogate to himself those qualities which the partiality
  of his friends had attributed to him. He had, on former occasions,
  declared himself to be clothed with the infirmities of man’s nature;
  and he now begged leave in all humility to reiterate that
  confession; he should never cease to consider himself as a feeble,
  and with respect to the extent of his faculties in many respects, a
  finite being—he had ever borne in mind, and he hoped he should ever
  continue to bear in mind, those words of the inspired Penman, “Thou
  hast made him less than the angels, to crown him with glory and
  honour”. These lines were indeed applicable to the state of man in
  general, but of no man more than himself; they appeared to him
  pointed and personal, and little less than prophetic; they were
  always present to his mind; he could wish to wear them in his breast
  as a sort of amulet against the enchantment of public applause, and
  the witcheries of vanity and self-delusion; yet if he were indeed
  possessed of those superhuman powers—all pretensions to which he
  again begged leave most earnestly to disclaim—if he were endowed
  with the eloquence of an angel, and with all those other faculties
  which we attribute to angelic natures, it would be impossible for
  him to do justice to the eloquence with which the Honourable
  Gentleman who opened the meeting had defended the Cause of Freedom,
  identified as he conceived it to be with the persons and government
  of the DIRECTORY. In his present terrestrial state he could only
  address it as a prayer to God and as counsel to Man that the words
  which they had heard from that Honourable Gentleman might work
  inwardly in their hearts, and in due time, produce the fruit of
  Liberty and Revolution.

  He had not the advantage of being personally acquainted with any of
  the Gentlemen of the DIRECTORY; he understood, however, that one of
  them (MR. MERLIN) previous to the last change, had stood in a
  situation similar to his own—he was, in fact, nothing less than a
  leading Advocate and Barrister in the midst of a free, powerful and
  enlightened people.

  The conduct of the DIRECTORY with regard to the exiled Deputies had
  been objected to by some persons on the score of a pretended rigour.
  For his part he should only say that having been, as he had been,
  both a Soldier and a Sailor, if it had been his fortune to have
  stood in either of those two relations to the DIRECTORY—as a Man and
  as a Major-General he should not have scrupled to direct his
  artillery against the National Representation:—as a Naval Officer he
  would undoubtedly have undertaken for the removal of the Exiled
  Deputies; admitting the exigency, under all its relations, as it
  appeared to him to exist, and the then circumstances of the times,
  with all their bearings and dependencies, branching out into an
  infinity of collateral considerations, and involving in each a
  variety of objects political, physical, and moral; and these again
  under their distinct and separate heads, ramifying into endless
  subdivisions which it was foreign to his purpose to consider.

  Having thus disposed of this part of his subject, MR. ERSKINE passed
  in a strain of rapid and brilliant allusions over a variety of
  points characteristic of the conduct and disposition of the present
  Ministry; Mr. Burke’s metaphor of “the Swinish Multitude,” Mr.
  Reeves’ metaphor of the “Tree of Monarchy,” “the Battle of Tranent,”
  “the March to Paris,” the phrase of “Acquitted Felons,” and the
  exclamation of “Perish Commerce”—which last expression he declared
  he should never cease to attribute to Mr. Windham; so long, at
  least, as it should please the Sovereign Dispenser to continue to
  him the power of utterance and the enjoyment of his present
  faculties. He condemned the expedition to Quiberon, he regretted the
  “Fate of Messrs. Muir and Palmer,” he exulted in the “Acquittal of
  Citizens Tooke, Hardy, Thelwall, Holcroft and others,” and he
  blessed that Providence to which (as it had been originally allotted
  to him (Mr. Erskine) the talents which had been exerted in their
  defence) the preservation of those Citizens might perhaps be
  indirectly attributed. He then descanted on the captivity of La
  Fayette, and the Dividend on the Imperial Loan.

  After fully exhausting these subjects, MR. ERSKINE resumed a topic
  on which he had only slightly glanced before. In a most delicate and
  sportive vein of humour he contended, that if the people were a
  Swinish Multitude, those who represented them must necessarily be a
  Swinish Representation. It would be in vain to attempt to do justice
  to the polite and easy pleasantry which pervaded this part of MR.
  ERSKINE’S speech. Suffice it to say that the taste of the Audience
  showed itself in complete unison with the genius of the Orator, and
  the whole of this passage was crowned with loud and reiterated
  plaudits. After a speech of unexampled exertion, MR. ERSKINE now
  began to enter much at length into a recital of select passages from
  our most approved English authors, concluding with a copious extract
  from the several Publications of the late MR. BURKE; but such were
  the variety and richness of his quotations which he continued to an
  extent far exceeding the limits of this paper, that we found
  ourselves under the necessity, either of considerably abridging our
  original matter, or omitting them altogether, which latter
  alternative we adopted the more readily as the greater part of these
  brilliant citations have already passed through the ordeal of a
  public and patriotic auditory; and as there is every probability
  that the circumstances of the times will again call them forth on
  some future emergency.

  MR. ERSKINE concluded by recapitulating, in a strain of agonizing
  and impressive eloquence, the several more prominent heads of his
  speech:—He had been a Soldier and a Sailor, and had a son at
  Winchester school—He had been called by Special Retainers, during
  the summer, into many different and distant parts of the
  country—travelling chiefly in Post-chaises—He felt himself called
  upon to declare that his poor faculties were at the service of his
  Country—of the free and enlightened part of it at least—He stood
  here as a Man—He stood in the Eye, indeed in the Hand of GOD—to whom
  (in the presence of the Company and Waiters) he solemnly appealed—He
  was of Noble, perhaps, Royal Blood—He had a house at Hampstead—was
  convinced of the necessity of a thorough and radical Reform—His
  Pamphlet had gone through Thirty Editions—skipping alternately the
  odd and even numbers—He loved the Constitution, to which he would
  cling and grapple—And he was clothed with the infirmities of man’s
  nature—He would apply to the present French Rulers (particularly
  BARRAS and REUBEL) the words of the poet:—

                 “Be to their Faults a little blind;
                 “Be to their Virtues very kind,
                 “Let all their ways be unconfin’d,
                 “And clap the Padlock on their mind!”

  And for these reasons, thanking the Gentlemen who had done him the
  honour to drink his Health, he should propose “MERLIN, _the late
  Minister of Justice, and Trial by Jury!_” MR. ERSKINE here concluded
  a speech which had occupied the attention and excited the applause
  of his Audience during a space of little less than three hours,
  allowing for about three quarters of an hour, which were occupied by
  successive fits of fainting, between the principal subdivisions of
  his discourse.—MR. ERSKINE descended from the Table, and was
  conveyed down stairs by the assistance of his friends. On arriving
  at the corner of the Piazzas, they were surprized by a very
  unexpected embarrassment. MR. ERSKINE’S horses had been taken from
  the carriage, and a number of able Chairmen engaged to supply their
  place; but these fellows having contrived to intoxicate themselves
  with the money which the Coachman had advanced to them on account,
  were become so restive and unruly, so exorbitant in their demands
  (positively refusing to abide by their former engagement) that MR.
  ERSKINE deemed it unsafe to trust himself in their hands, and
  determined to wait the return of his own more tractable and less
  chargeable animals. This unpleasant scene continued for above an
  hour.

  MR. SHERIDAN’S health was now drunk in his absence and received with
  an appearance of general approbation;—when in the midst of the
  applause MR. FOX arose, in apparent agitation, and directed the
  attention of the Company to the rising, manly virtues of MR.
  MACFUNGUS.

  MR. MACFUNGUS declared that to pretend he was not elated by the
  encomiums with which MR. FOX had honoured him was an affectation
  which he disdained;—such encomiums would ever form the proudest
  recompense of his patriotic labours—he confessed they were cheering
  to him—he felt them warm at his heart—and while a single fibre of
  his frame preserved its vibration, it would throb in unison to the
  approbation of that Honourable Gentleman. The applause of the
  Company was no less flattering to him—he felt his faculties
  invigorated by it, and stimulated to the exertion of new energies in
  the race of mind. Every other sensation was obliterated and absorbed
  by it; for the present, however, he would endeavour to suppress his
  feelings, and concentre his energies for the purpose of explaining
  to the Company why he assisted now for the first time at the
  celebration of the Fifth Revolution which had been effected in
  regenerated France. The various and extraordinary talents of the
  Right Hon. Gentleman—his vehement and overpowering perception, his
  vigorous and splendid intuition would for ever attract the
  admiration of all those who were in any degree endowed with those
  faculties themselves or capable of estimating them in others; as
  such, he had ever been among the most ardent admirers, and on many
  occasions, among the most ardent supporters of the Right Hon.
  Gentleman—he agreed with him in many points—in his general love of
  Liberty and Revolution; in his execration of the War; in his
  detestation of Ministers; but he entertained his doubts, and till
  those doubts were cleared up, he could not, consistently with his
  principles, attend at the celebration of any Revolution whatever.

  These doubts, however, were now satisfactorily done away. A pledge
  had been entered into for accomplishing an effectual radical
  Revolution; not for the mere overthrow of the present System, nor
  for the establishment of any other in its place; but for the
  effecting such a series of Revolutions as might be sufficient for
  the establishment of a Free System.

  MR. MACFUNGUS continued he was incapable of compromising with first
  principles, of acquiescing in short-sighted temporary palliative
  expedients: if such had been his temper he should assuredly have
  rested satisfied with the pledge which that Right Hon. Gentleman had
  entered into about six months ago on the subject of Parliamentary
  Reform, in which pledge he considered the promise of that previous
  and preliminary Revolution, to which he had before alluded, as
  essentially implicated.

  “Whenever this Reform takes place,” exclaimed MR. MACFUNGUS, “the
  present degraded and degrading system must fall into dissolution; it
  must sink and perish with the corruptions which have supported it.
  The national energies will awake, and shaking off their lethargy as
  their fetters drop from them, they will follow the Angel of their
  Revolution, while the Genius of Freedom soaring aloft beneath the
  orb of Gallic Illumination will brush away as with the wing of an
  Eagle all the cobwebs of Aristocracy. But before the Temple of
  Freedom can be erected in their place, the surface which they have
  occupied must be smoothed and levelled—it must be cleared by
  repeated Revolutionary Explosions from all the lumber and rubbish
  with which Aristocracy and Fanaticism will endeavour to encumber it,
  and to impede the progress of the holy work.—The sacred level, the
  symbol of Fraternal Equality, must be passed over the whole.—The
  completion of the Edifice will indeed be the more tardy, but it will
  not be the less durable for having been longer delayed—Cemented with
  the blood of tyrants, and the tears of the Aristocracy, it will rise
  a monument for the astonishment and veneration of future ages. The
  remotest posterity, with our children yet unborn, and the most
  distant portions of the Globe, will crowd around its Gates and
  demand admission into its Sanctuary.—The Tree of Liberty will be
  planted in the midst of it, and its branches will extend to the ends
  of the Earth, while the Friends of Freedom meet and fraternize and
  amalgamate under its consolatory shade. There our Infants shall be
  taught to lisp in tender accents the Revolutionary Hymn—there with
  wreaths of myrtle, and oak, and poplar, and vine and olive and
  cypress and ivy; with violets and roses and daffodils and dandelions
  in our hands we will swear respect to childhood and manhood and old
  age, and virginity and womanhood and widowhood; but above all to the
  Supreme Being.—There we will decree and sanction the Immortality of
  the Soul.—There pillars and obelisks, and arches and pyramids, will
  awaken the love of Glory and of our Country.—There Painters and
  Statuaries, with their chisels and colours, and Engravers with their
  engraving tools will perpetuate the interesting features of our
  Revolutionary Heroes; while our Poets and Musicians, with an
  honourable emulation, strive to immortalize their memory. Their
  bones will be entombed in the Vault below, while their sacred Shades
  continue hovering over our Heads—those venerated Manes which from
  time to time will require to be appeased by the blood of the
  remaining Aristocrats.—Then Peace and Freedom, and Fraternity and
  Equality will pervade the whole Earth—while the Vows of
  Republicanism, the Alter of Patriotism, and the Revolutionary
  Pontiff, with the thrilling volcanic Sympathies, whether of Holy
  Fury or of ardent Fraternal Civism, uniting and identifying, produce
  as it were an electric Energy.”

  MR. MACFUNGUS here paused for a few moments, seemingly overpowered
  by the excess of Sensibility, and the force of the ideas which he
  was labouring to convey.—The whole Company appeared to sympathize
  with his unaffected emotions. After a short interval, he recovered
  himself from a very impressive silence, and continued as follows:

  “These prospects, Fellow-Citizens, may possibly be deferred. The
  Machiavelism of Governments may for the time prevail, and this
  unnatural and execrable contest may yet be prolonged; but the hour
  is not far distant; Persecution will only serve to accelerate it,
  and the blood of Patriotism streaming from the severing axe will
  call down vengeance on our oppressors in a voice of Thunder. I
  expect the contest, and I am prepared for it.—I hope I shall never
  shrink nor swerve nor start aside wherever duty and inclination may
  place me. My services, my life itself, are at your disposal—Whether
  to act or to suffer, I am yours—With HAMPDEN in the field, or with
  SIDNEY on the scaffold. My example may be more useful to you than my
  talents: and this head may perhaps serve your cause more
  effectually, if placed on a pole on Temple Bar, than if it was
  occupied in organizing your Committees, in preparing your
  Revolutionary Explosions, and conducting your Correspondence.”

  MR. MACFUNGUS said he should give, as an unequivocal test of his
  sentiments, “BUONAPARTE AND A RADICAL REFORM”.

  The conclusion of MR. MACFUNGUS’S speech was followed by a
  simultaneous burst of rapturous approbation from every part of the
  room. The applause continued for several minutes, during which MR.
  MACFUNGUS repeatedly rose to express his feelings.

  The conversation now became more mixed and animated; several
  excellent Songs were sung, and Toasts drank, while the progressive
  and patriotic festivity of the evening was heightened by the vocal
  powers of several of the most popular Singers. A new Song written by
  Captain MORRIS received its sanction in the warmest expression of
  applause. The whole company joined with enthusiasm in their old
  favourite Chorus of Bow! Wow!! Wow!!!]

                  *       *       *       *       *

  [MACFUNGUS stands for SIR JAMES MACKINTOSH, who, after studying
  medicine in Edinburgh, settled in London, and wrote for the
  opposition newspapers, particularly the _Morning Post_, Daniel
  Stuart, the proprietor, being his father-in-law. The first work that
  brought him into notice was his _Vindiciæ Gallicæ_ (1791), in reply
  to Burke’s _Reflections_ on the French Revolution, which splendid
  philippic it greatly surpassed in philosophic thought, sound
  feeling, and common sense. It was enthusiastically received by the
  Liberal party, whose leaders eagerly sought his acquaintance and
  co-operation; and when the _Association of the Friends of the
  People_ was formed, he was appointed Secretary. His subsequent
  successful career as an Advocate, Indian Judge, Member of
  Parliament, Minister under Lord Grey, and as an English historian,
  bore out the promise of his youth. He was born in 1765 and died in
  1832.—ED.]




                                 No. V.


                                                          Dec. 11, 1797.

We have already hinted at the principle by which the followers of the
Jacobinical sect are restrained from the exercise of their own favourite
virtue of charity. The force of this prohibition, and the strictness
with which it is observed, are strongly exemplified in the following
poem. It is the production of the same author [SOUTHEY] whose happy
effort in English Sapphics we presumed to imitate; the present effusion
is in Dactylics, and equally subject to the laws of Latin Prosody.


                          THE SOLDIER’S WIFE.

             Wēāry̆ wăy-wāndĕrĕr, lānguĭd ănd sĭck ăt hĕart,
             Trāvĕllĭng pāinfŭlly̆ ōvĕr thĕ rūggĕd roăd;
             Wīld vĭsăg’d wāndĕrĕr—āh fŏr thy̆ hēavy̆ chănce.

We think that we see him fumbling in the pocket of his blue pantaloons;
that the splendid shilling is about to make its appearance, and to
glitter in the eyes, and glad the heart of the poor sufferer. But no
such thing—the bard very calmly contemplates her situation, which he
describes in a pair of very pathetical stanzas; and after the following
well-imagined topic of consolation, concludes by leaving her to
Providence.

       Thy husband will never return from the war again;
       Cold is thy hopeless heart, _even as charity_;
       Cold are thy famished babes—_God help thee_, widow’d one!

We conceived that it would be necessary to follow up this general rule
with the particular exception, and to point out one of those cases in
which the embargo upon Jacobin bounty is sometimes suspended;[18] with
this view we have subjoined the poem of


                         THE SOLDIER’S FRIEND.
                               DACTYLICS.

        Come, little Drummer Boy, lay down your knapsack here:
        I am the soldier’s friend—here are some books for you;
        Nice clever books by TOM PAINE, the philanthropist.[19]
        Here’s half-a-crown for you—here are some handbills too—
        Go to the barracks, and give all the soldiers some.
        Tell them the sailors are all in a mutiny.

  _Exit Drummer Boy, with handbills and half-a-crown.—Manet Soldier’s Friend._

            Liberty’s friends thus all learn to amalgamate,
            Freedom’s volcanic explosion prepares itself,
            Despots shall bow to the fasces of liberty.
              Reason, philosophy, “fiddledum diddledum,”
              Peace and fraternity, higgledy, piggledy,
              Higgledy, piggledy, “fiddledum diddledum”.

                                    _Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera._


                          SONNET.—TO LIBERTY.

            Just Guardian of man’s social bliss! for thee
              The paths of danger gladly would I tread:
              For thee! contented, join the glorious dead,
            Who nobly scorn’d a life that was not free!

            But worse than death it pains my soul to see
              The Lord of Ruin, by wild Uproar led,
              Hell’s first-born, ANARCHY, exalt his head,
            And seize thy throne, and bid us bow the knee!

            What though his iron sceptre, blood-imbrued,
              Crush half the nations with resistless might;
            Never shall this firm spirit be subdued:
              In chains, in exile, still the chanted rite,
            O LIBERTY! to thee shall be renew’d:
              O still be sea-girt ALBION thy delight!    D.




                                No. VI.


                                                          Dec. 18, 1797.

We cannot enough congratulate ourselves on having been so fortunate as
to fall upon the curious specimens of classical metre and correct
sentiment which we have made the subject of our late Jacobinical
imitations.

The fashion of admiring and imitating these productions has spread in a
surprising degree. Even those who sympathise with the principles of the
writer selected as our model, seem to have been struck with the ridicule
of his poetry.

There appeared in the _Morning Chronicle_ of Monday a _Sapphic Ode_,
apparently written by a friend and associate of our author, in which he
is however travestied most unmercifully. And to make the joke the more
pointed, the learned and judicious editor contrived to print the ode _en
masse_, without any order of lines, or division of stanza; so that it
was not discovered to be _verse_ till the next day, when it was
explained in a hobbling _erratum_.

We hardly know which to consider as the greater object of compassion in
this case—the original _Odist_, thus parodied by his friend, or the
mortified _Parodist_ thus mutilated by his printer. “_Et tu, Brute!_”
has probably been echoed from each of these worthies to his murderer, in
a tone that might melt the hardest heart to pity.

We cordially wish them joy of each other, and we resign the modern
_Lesbian lyre_ into their hands without envy or repining.

Our author’s DACTYLICS have produced a second imitation (conveyed to us
from an unknown hand), with which we take our leave of this species of
poetry also.


                        THE SOLDIER’S WIFE.[20]

                               DACTYLICS.

                     “Wēāry̆ wăy-wāndĕrĕr,” &c. &c.

                               IMITATION.

                               DACTYLICS.

  _Being the quintessence of all the Dactylics that ever were, or ever
                           will be written._

              HUMBLY ADDRESSED TO THE AUTHOR OF THE ABOVE.

       Wearisome Sonnetteer, feeble and querulous,
       Painfully dragging out thy demo-cratic lays—
       Moon-stricken Sonnetteer, “ah! for thy heavy chance!”

       Sorely thy Dactylics lag on uneven feet:
       Slow is the syllable which thou wouldst urge to speed,
       Lame and o’erburthen’d, and “screaming its wretchedness!”

                       .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .[21]

       Ne’er talk of ears again! look at thy spelling-book;
       _Dilworth_ and _Dyche_[22] are both mad at thy quantities—
       DACTYLICS, call’st thou ’em—“God help thee, silly one!”

  [The following is the _Sapphic Ode_ alluded to above, which was
  intended by the poet of the _Morning Chronicle_ as a “retort
  courteous” to the _Friend of Humanity_. The printer of that paper,
  unfortunately, being new to “such branches of learning,” and not
  dreaming it could be intended for _poetry_, printed it as below. The
  mistake seems to have been immediately discovered, for it
  re-appeared next day (Dec. 12) in the guise of verse.—ED.]


                   THE COLLECTOR AND THE HOUSEHOLDER.

     _The Hint taken from the Anti-Jacobin, “Needy Knife-Grinders”_

     _H._ Greedy Collector, whither are you going, thus with your
          inkhorn in your buttonhole, and ledger so snugly underneath
          your coat? Say, greedy Collector.

     _C._ Much I rejoice that I have met you here, friend: turn back,
          I pri’thee, ’tis with you I want to speak; I am come on
          business of importance—gentle Householder.

     _H._ Greedy Collector, well I know your business, ’tis for my
          taxes you are come to dun me; well! ’tis the last time you
          will have a right to ask me for money. Buggy, no longer do
          I drive a smart one; smash went my gig, as long [ago] as
          Easter; down Highgate hill we tumbled altogether, horse,
          wife, and I, Sir. One broke his knees, and[23] another
          broke his collar-bone; there’s an end of pleasuring on
          Sundays. Take my last payment; there is your two pounds
          twelve shillings and ninepence.

     _C._ Gentle householder, much are you mistaken; Order, Religion,
          Constitution, Laws, and rational freedom, all demand from
          you a—triple assessment.

     _H._ Triple Assessment! What beside the old tax?

     _C._ Certainly: come, deposit, I’m a waiting.

     _H._ Wait and be damned. What is it you are after?

     _C._ Ten pounds eleven.

     _H._ Ten pounds eleven! have I not informed thee gig I have none?
          I’ve sent it to the hammer; Pay for a gig and not [to] have
          it!

     _C._ But you had one at Easter!

     _H._ Easter is past and gone. I’ll never pay thee.

     _C._ Gentle Householder, then I must proceed to shew thee a
          little bit of parchment, called a writ of distringer [for
          _distringas_].

          [_Exit_ Collector to take possession of the Householder’s
          bed and furniture.

The verses which we here present to the public were written immediately
after the Revolution of the 4th of September. We should be much obliged
to any of our classical and loyal correspondents for an English
translation of them.


                              LATIN VERSES
  _Written immediately after the Revolution of the 4th of September._

           Ipsa mali Hortatrix scelerumque uberrima Mater
           In se prima suos vertit lymphata furores,
           Luctaturque diù secum, et conatibus ægris
           Fessa cadit, proprioque jacet labefacta veneno.

             Mox tamen ipsius rursúm violentia morbi
           Erigit ardentem furiis, ultróque minantem
           Spargere bella procul, vastæque incendia cladis,
           Civilesque agitare faces, totumque per orbem
           Sceptra super Regum et Populorum subdita colla
           Ferre pedem, et sanctas Regnorum evertere sedes.

             Aspicis! Ipsa sui bacchatur sanguine Regis,
           Barbaraque ostentans feralis signa triumphi,
           Mole giganteâ campis prorumpit apertis,
           Successu scelerum, atque insanis viribus audax.

             At quà Pestis atrox rapido se turbine vertit,
           Cernis ibi, priscâ morum compage solutâ,
           Procubuisse solo civilis fœdera vitæ,
           Et quodcunque Fides, quodcunque habet alma verendi
           Religio, Pietasque et Legum fræna sacrarum.

             Nec spes Pacis adhuc—necdum exsaturata rapinis
           Effera Bellatrix, fusove expleta cruore.
           Crescit inextinctus Furor, atque exæstuat ingens
           Ambitio, immanisque irâ Vindicta renatâ
           Reliquias Soliorum et adhuc restantia Regna
           Flagitat excidio, prædæque incumbit opimæ.

             Una etenim in mediis Gens intemerata ruinis
           Libertate probâ, et justo libramine rerum,
           Securum faustis degit sub legibus ævum;
           Antiquosque colit mores, et jura Parentum
           Ordine firma suo, sanoque intacta vigore,
           Servat adhuc, hominumque fidem, curamque Deorum.
           Eheu! quanta odiis avidoque alimenta furori!
           Quanta profanatas inter spoliabitur aras
           Victima! si quando versis Victoria fatis
           Annuerit scelus extremum, terrâque subactâ
           Impius Oceani sceptrum fædaverit Hostis!

[Illustration]




                                No. VII.


                                                          Dec. 25, 1797.

We have been favoured with a translation of the Latin verses inserted in
our last Number. We have little doubt that our readers will agree with
us, in hoping that this may not be the last contribution which we shall
receive from the same hand.[24]

          Parent of countless crimes, in headlong rage,
          War with herself see frantic _Gallia_ wage,
          Till worn and wasted by intestine strife,
          She falls—her languid pulse scarce quick with life.
          But soon she feels through every trembling vein,
          New strength collected from convulsive pain:
          Onward she moves, and sounds the dire alarm,
          And bids insulted nations haste to arm;
          Spreads wide the waste of war, and hurls the brand
          Of civil discord o’er each troubled land,
          While desolation marks her furious course,
          And thrones subverted bow beneath her force.

            Behold! she pours her Monarch’s guiltless blood,
          And quaffs with savage joy the crimson flood;
          Then, proud the deadly trophies to display
          Of her foul crimes, resistless bursts away,
          Unaw’d by justice, unappall’d by fear,
          And runs with giant strength her mad career.

            Where’er her banners float in barbarous pride,
          Where’er her conquest rolls its sanguine tide,
          There, the fair fabric of establish’d law,
          There social order, and religious awe,
          Sink in the general wreck; indignant there
          Honour and Virtue fly the tainted air;
          Fly the mild duties of domestic life
          That cheer the parent, that endear the wife,
          The lingering pangs of kindred grief assuage,
          Or soothe the sorrows of declining age.

            Nor yet can Hope presage th’ auspicious hour,
          When Peace shall check the rage of lawless Power;
          Nor yet th’ insatiate thirst of blood is o’er,
          Nor yet has Rapine ravaged every shore.
          Exhaustless Passion feeds th’ augmented flame,
          And wild Ambition mocks the voice of Shame;
          Revenge, with haggard look and scowling eyes,
          Surveys with horrid joy th’ expected prize;
          Broods o’er each remnant of monarchic sway,
          And dooms to certain death his fancied prey.

            For midst the ruins of each falling state,
          ONE FAVOUR’D NATION braves the general fate—
          One favour’d nation, whose impartial laws
          Of sober Freedom vindicate the cause;
          Her simple manners, midst surrounding crimes,
          Proclaim the genuine worth of ancient times;
          True to herself, unconquerably bold,
          The rights her valour gain’d she dares uphold;
          Still with pure faith her promise dares fulfil,
          Still bows submission to th’ Almighty will.

            Just Heav’n! how Envy kindles at the sight!
          How mad Ambition plans the desperate fight!
          With what new fury Vengeance hastes to pour
          Her tribes of rapine from yon crowded shore!
          Just Heav’n! how fair a victim at the shrine
          Of injured Freedom shall her life resign,
          If e’er, propitious to the vows of hate,
          Unsteady Conquest stamp our mournful fate,
          If e’er proud France usurp our ancient reign,
          And ride triumphant o’er th’ insulted main!

                 ·       ·       ·       ·       ·

            Far hence th’ unmanly thought—the voice of Fame
          Wafts o’er th’ applauding deep her DUNCAN’S name.
          What though the Conqueror of th’ Italian plains
          Deem nothing gain’d, while this fair isle remains;
          Though his young breast with rash presumption glow,
          He braves the vengeance of no vulgar foe:
          Conqueror no more, full soon his laurel’d pride
          Shall perish—whelm’d in Ocean’s angry tide;
          His broken bands shall rue the fatal day,
          And scatter’d fleets proclaim BRITANNIA’S sway.

[Illustration]




                               No. VIII.


                                                           Jan. 1, 1798.

A correspondent has adapted the beautiful poem of the BATTLE OF SABLA,
in “Carlyle’s Specimens of Arabian Poetry,” to the circumstances of the
present moment. We shall always be happy to see the poetry of other
times and nations so successfully engaged in the service of our country,
and of the present order of society.


                              THE CHOICE.
            (FROM THE BATTLE OF SABLA, BY JAAFER BEN ALBA.)

                                     I.

           Hast thou not seen th’ insulting foe
             In fancied triumphs crown’d?
           And heard their frantic rulers throw
             These empty threats around?
           “Make now YOUR CHOICE! The terms we give,
             Desponding Britons, hear!
           These fetters on your hands receive,
             Or in your hearts the spear.”

           Can we forget our old renown;
             Resign the empire of the sea;
           And yield at once our sovereign’s crown,
             Our ancient laws and liberty?

           Shall thus the fierce destroyer’s hand
           Pass unresisted o’er our native land?
           Our country sink, to barb’rous force a prey,
           And _ransom’d_ ENGLAND bow to _Gallic_ sway?

                                     II.

           “Is then the contest o’er?” we cried,
             “And lie we at your feet?
           And dare you vauntingly decide
             The fortune we shall meet?
           A brighter day we soon shall see;
             No more the prospect lours;
           And Conquest, Peace, and Liberty
             Shall gild our future hours.”

           Yes! we will guard our old renown;
             Assert our empire o’er the sea;
           And keep untouch’d our sovereign’s crown,
             Our ancient laws and liberty.

           Not thus the fierce destroyer’s hand
           Shall scatter ruin o’er this smiling land;
           No barb’rous force shall here divide its prey;
           Nor _ransom’d_ ENGLAND bow to _Gallic_ sway.

                                     III.

           The foe advance. In firm array
             We’ll rush o’er Albion’s sands—
           Till the red sabre marks our way
             Amid their yielding bands!
           Then as they lie in death’s cold grasp,
             We’ll cry, “OUR CHOICE IS MADE!
           These hands the sabre’s hilt shall clasp,
             Your hearts shall feel the blade”.

           Thus Britons guard their ancient fame,
             Assert their empire o’er the sea,
           And to the envying world proclaim,
             One nation still is brave and free—

           Resolv’d to conquer or to die,
           True to their KING, their LAWS, their LIBERTY:
           No barb’rous foe finds here an easy prey—
           _Un-ransom’d_ ENGLAND spurns all foreign sway.[25]

The following poem has been transmitted to us, without preface or
introduction, by a gentleman of the name of IRELAND.[26] We apprehend
from the peculiarities of the style, that it must be the production of a
remote period. We are likewise inclined to imagine, that it may contain
allusions to some former event in English history. What that event may
have been, we must submit to the better judgment and superior
information of our readers, from whom we impatiently expect a solution
of this interesting question. The editor has been influenced solely by a
sense of its poetical merit.


              [JA’FAR SON OF ’ULBAH, OF THE BANU-L-HÂRITH.

  The Poet, with two companions, went forth to plunder the herds of
  ’Ukail, a neighbour-tribe, and was beset on his way back by detached
  parties of that tribe in the valley of Sahbal, whom he overcame and
  reached home safely.

  That even when under Sahbal’s twin peaks upon us drave
    the horsemen troop after troop, and the foemen pressed us sore—
  They said to us—“Two things lie before you: now must ye choose—
    the points of the spears couched at you, or, if ye will not,
       chains”.
  We answered them—“Yea, this thing may fall to you after fight,
    when men shall be left on ground, and none shall arise again;
  But we know not, if we quail before the assault of Death,
    how much may be left of life: the goal is too dim to see”.
  We strode to the strait of battle: there cleared us a space around
    the white swords in our right hands which the smiths had furbished
       fair.
  To them fell the edge of my blade on that day of Sahbal dale,
    and mine was the share thereof whereover my fingers closed.
                                                          ED.]


                    THE DUKE AND THE TAXING-MAN.[27]

             Whilome there liv’d in fair Englonde
               A Duke of peerless wealth,
             And mickle care he took of her
               Old Constitution’s health.
             Full fifty thousand pounds and more
               To him his vassals paid,
             But ne to King, ne Countree, he
               Would yield th’ assessment made.
             The taxing-man, with grim viságe
               Came pricking on the way;
             The taxing-man, with wrothful words,
               Thus to the Duke did say:
             “Lord Duke, Lord Duke, thou’st hid from me,
               As sure as I’m alive,
             Of goodly palfreys _seventeen_,
               Of varlets _twenty-five_”.
             Then out he drew his gray goose quill,
               Ydipp’d in ink so black,
             And sorely to SURCHARGE the Duke,
               I trowe, he was ne slack.
             Then ’gan the Duke to looken pale,
               And stared as one astound,
             Twaie coneynge Clerks[28] eftsoons he spies
               Sitting their board around.
             “O woe is me,” then cried the Duke,
               “Ne mortal wight but errs!
             I’ll hie to yon twaie coneynge Clerks,
               Yclept Commissioners.”
             The Duke he hied him to the board,
               And straight ’gan for to say,
             “A seely[29] wight I am, God wot,
               Ne ken I the right way.
             “These varlets twenty-five were ne’er
               _Liveried in white and red_;
             Withouten this, what signifie
               Wages, and board, and bed?
             “And by St. George, that stout horseman,
               My palfreys _seventeen_,
             For two years, or perchance for three,
               I had forgotten clean.”
             “Naie,” quoth the Clerk, “both horse and foot
               To hide was thine intent,
             Ne seely wight be ye, but didst
               With good advisament.[30]
             “Surcharge, surcharge, good Taxing-man,
               Anon our seals we fix,
             Of sterling pounds, Lord Duke, you pay
               Three hundred thirty-six.”[31]


                     EPIGRAM ON THE PARIS LOAN,[32]
                                 CALLED
                         THE LOAN UPON ENGLAND.

        The Paris cits, a patriotic band,
        Advance their cash on British freehold land.
        But let the speculating rogues beware—
        They’ve bought the _skin_, but who’s to kill _the bear_?




                                No. IX.


                                                           Jan. 8, 1798.


                            ODE TO ANARCHY.

                             BY A JACOBIN.

           (BEING AN IMITATION OF HORACE, ODE XXXV. BOOK I.)

                   _O Diva, gratum quæ regis Antium!_

       Goddess, whose dire terrific power
       Spreads from thy much-loved Gallia’s plains
       Where’er her blood-stain’d ensigns lower,
     Where’er fell Rapine stalks, or barb’rous Discord reigns!

       Thou, who canst lift to fortune’s height
       The wretch by truth and virtue scorn’d,
       And crush with insolent delight,
     All whom true merit rais’d, or noble birth adorn’d!

       Thee, oft the murd’rous band implores,
       Swift darting on its hapless prey:
       Thee, wafted from fierce Afric’s shores,
     The Corsair Chief invokes to speed him on his way.

       Thee, the wild Indian Tribes revere;
       Thy charms the roving Arab owns;
       Thee, kings, thee tranquil nations fear,
     The bane of social bliss, the foe to peaceful thrones.

       For, soon as thy loud trumpet calls
       To deadly rage, to fierce alarms,
       Just Order’s goodly fabric falls,
     Whilst the mad people cries, “To arms! to arms!”

       With thee Proscription, child of strife,
       With Death’s choice implements, is seen,
       Her Murderer’s gun, Assassin’s knife,
     And, “last not least in love,” her darling _Guillotine_.

       Fond Hope is thine,—the hope of Spoil,
       And Faith,—such faith as ruffians keep:
       They prosper thy destructive toil,
     That makes the Widow mourn, the helpless Orphan weep.

       Then false and hollow friends retire,
       Nor yield one sigh to soothe despair;
       Whilst crowds triumphant Vice admire,
     Whilst Harlots shine in robes that deck’d the Great and Fair.

       Guard our famed Chief to Britain’s strand!
       Britain, our last, our deadliest foe:
       Oh, guard his brave associate band!
     A band to slaughter train’d, and “nursed in scenes of woe”.

       What shame, alas! one little Isle
       Should dare its native laws maintain!
       At Gallia’s threats serenely smile,
     And, scorning her dread power, triumphant rule the main.

       For this have guiltless victims died
       In crowds at thy ensanguined shrine!
       For this has recreant Gallia’s pride
     O’erturned Religion’s Fanes, and braved the Wrath Divine!

       What Throne, what Altar, have we spared
       To spread thy power, thy joys impart?
       Ah! then, our faithful toils reward!
     And let each falchion pierce some loyal Briton’s heart.


            [THE FOLLOWING IS A TRANSLATION, BY DUNCOMBE, OF
                        HORACE’S ODE TO FORTUNE,
                 _Of which the above Ode is a parody_.

            O Goddess, whose propitious sway
            Thy Antium’s favourite sons obey;
            Whose voice from depth of woe recalls
          The wretch, and triumphs turns to funerals;

            From Thee, rich crops the needy swain
            Implores. Thee, sovereign of the main,
            The mariner invokes, who braves
          In a Bithynian bark the Cretan waves;

            Thee, Scythians, wandering far and near,
            And unrelenting Dacians, fear:
            The warlike sons of Italy;
          Cities, and realms, and empires, worship Thee.

            Mothers of barbarous monarchs dread,
            And purple tyrants, lest thou tread
            With spurning foot, and scatter round
          The sculptured column on th’ encumbered ground;

            And lest the fickle crowd should break
            Their bonds; and with loud clamours wake
            The peaceful to assert their right
          By force of arms, and quell usurping might.

            Ruthless necessity prepares
            The way for Thee; and ever bears
            Huge nails in her strong hands of brass
          The wedge, the hook, and lead’s hot molten mass.

            Thee Hope and white robed Faith, adore,
            So rarely found!—She, when no more
            Thou smil’st, attends the fallen great
          Stript of his gay attire and stately seat.

            But venal crowds and harlots fly:
            And, if the flowing casks are dry,
            When to the dregs the wine they drink,
          From friendship’s yoke the false associates shrink.

            Thy aid for Cæsar Rome implores,
            Conduct him safe to Britain’s shores,
            The limits of the world; and lead
          Our new-raised bands against the trembling Mede.

            Alas! we mourn our crimes, our scar
            And brethren slain in civil wars:
            How oft have Roman youth embrued
          Their savage hands in streams of social blood!

            What has this Iron Age not dared?
            What Gods revered? What Altars spared?
            O! point again the blunted steel,
          And let the Massagete our vengeance feel!—ED.]

                  *       *       *       *       *


The following Song is recommended to be sung at all _Convivial_
Meetings, convened for the purpose of opposing the Assessed-Tax Bill.
The correspondent who has transmitted it to us informs us that he has
tried it with great success among many of his well-disposed neighbours,
who had been at first led to apprehend that the 1–20th part of their
income was too great a sacrifice for the preservation of the remainder
of their property from French Confiscation.

              You have heard of REWBELL,[33]
              That demon of hell,
                And of BARRAS, his brother Director;
              Of the canting LEPAUX,
              And that scoundrel MOREAU,
                Who betray’d his old friend and protector.

              Would you know how these friends,
              For their own private ends,
                Would subvert our Religion and Throne?—
              Do you doubt of their skill
              To change Laws at their will?—
                You shall hear how they treated their own.

              ’Twas their pleasure to look,
              In a little blue book,
                At the Code of their famed legislation,
              That with truth they might say,
              In the space of one day
                They had broke every Law of the Nation.

              The first law that they see,
              Is “_the Press shall be free_!”
                The next is “_the Trial by Jury_”:
              Then, “_the People’s free Choice_”;
              Then, “_the Members’ free Voice_”—
                When REWBELL exclaim’d in a fury—

              “On a method we’ll fall
              For infringing them all—
                We’ll seize on each Printer and Member:
              No period so fit
              For a desperate hit,
                As our bloody month of _September_.

              “We’ll annul each election
              Which wants our correction,
                And name our own creatures instead.
              When once we’ve our will,
              No blood we will spill,
                (But let CARNOT be knock’d on the head).

              “To _Rochefort_ we’ll drive
              Our victims alive,
                And as soon as on board we have got ’em,
              Since we destine the ship
              For no more than one trip,
                We can just make a hole in the bottom.

              “By this excellent plan,
              On the _true Rights of Man_,
                When we’ve founded our _fifth Revolution_,
              Though _England’s_ our foe,
              An army shall go
                To _improve_ HER corrupt Constitution.

              “We’ll address to the Nation
              A fine Proclamation
                With offers of friendship so warm:
              Who can give BUONAPARTE
              A welcome so hearty
                As the friends of a THOROUGH REFORM?”

[Illustration]




                                 No. X.


                                                          Jan. 15, 1798.

For the two following poems we are indebted to unknown correspondents.
They could not have reached us at a more seasonable period.

The former, we trust, describes the feelings common to every inhabitant
of this country. The second, we know too well, is expressive of the
sentiments of our enemies.


                                 LINES,
                 WRITTEN AT THE CLOSE OF THE YEAR 1797.

       Loud howls the storm along the neighbouring shore;
       BRITAIN indignant hears the frantic roar:
       Her generous sons pour forth on every side,
       Firm in their country’s cause—their country’s pride!
       See wild Invasion threats this envied land:
       Swift to defend her, springs each Social Band:
       Her white rocks echoing to their cheerful cry,
       “GOD AND OUR KING!”—“ENGLAND AND VICTORY!”

         Yes! happy BRITAIN, on thy tranquil coast
       No trophies mad Philosophy shall boast!
       Though thy disloyal sons, a feeble band,
       Sound the loud blast of treason through the land;
       Scoff at thy dangers with unnatural mirth,
       And execrate the soil which gave them birth;
       With jaundiced eye thy splendid triumphs view,
       And give to FRANCE the palm to BRITAIN due:
       Or,—when loud strains of gratulation ring,[34]
       And lowly bending to the ETERNAL KING,
       Thy SOVEREIGN bids a nation’s praise arise
       In grateful incense to the fav’ring skies—
       Cast o’er each solemn scene a scornful glance,
       And only sigh for ANARCHY and FRANCE.

         Yes! unsupported _Treason’s_ standard falls,
       _Sedition_ vainly on her children calls,
       While Cities, Cottages, and Camps contend,
       Their King, their Laws, their Country to defend.[35]

         Raise, BRITAIN, raise thy sea-encircled head;
       Round the wide world behold thy glory spread;
       Firm as thy guardian oaks thou still shalt stand,
       The dread and wonder of each hostile land;
       While the dire fiends of discord idly rave,
       And, mad with anguish, curse the severing wave.

         QUEEN of the OCEAN, lo! she smiles serene,
       ’Mid the deep horrors of the dreadful scene;
       With heartfelt piety to Heav’n she turns—
       From Heav’n the flame of British courage burns—
       She dreads no power but HIS who rules the ball,
       At whose “great bidding” empires rise and fall;
       In HIM, on peaceful plain, or tented field,
       She trusts, secure in HIS protecting shield—
       GALLIA, thy threats she scorns—BRITAIN SHALL NEVER YIELD.
                                                 AN ENGLISHWOMAN.


                      TRANSLATION OF THE NEW SONG
                                 OF THE
                           “ARMY OF ENGLAND”.

             WRITTEN BY THE CI-DEVANT BISHOP OF AUTUN.[36]

                     WITH NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR.

              Good Republicans all,
              The Directory’s call
                Invites you to visit JOHN BULL;
              Oppress’d by the rod
              Of a King, and a God,[37]
                The cup of his misery’s full.

              Old JOHNNY shall see
              What makes a man FREE;
                Not parchments, nor Statutes on Paper;
              And stripp’d of his riches,
              Great Charter, and breeches,
                Shall cut a FREE Citizen’s caper.

              Then away, let us over
              To _Deal_, or to _Dover_—
                We laugh at his talking so big;
              He’s pamper’d with feeding,
              And wants a sound bleeding—
                _Par Dieu!_ he shall bleed like a pig!

              JOHN, tied to the stake,
              A grand baiting will make,
              When worried by mastiffs of France;
              What REPUBLICAN FUN,
              To see his blood run,
              As at _Lyons_, _La Vendée_, and _Nantz_![38]

              With grape-shot discharges,
              And plugs in his barges,
                With _National Razors_ good store,
              We’ll pepper and shave him,
              And in the _Thames_ lave him—
                How sweetly he’ll bellow and roar!

              What the villain likes worse,
              We’ll vomit his Purse,
                And make it the guineas disgorge;
              For your RAPHAELS and RUBENS
              We would not give two-pence;
                Stick, stick to the PICTURES OF GEORGE.

              No Venus of stone,
              But of good flesh and bone,
                Will do for a true Democrat;
              When weary with slaughter,
              With JOHN’S Wife and Daughter,
                We’ll join in a little _chit-chat_.

              The Shop-keeping hoard,
              The Tenant and Lord,
                And the Merchants,[39] are excellent prey:
              At our cannon’s first thunder,
              _Rape_, _pillage_, and _plunder_
                The _Order_ shall be _of the day_.

              French fortunes and lives,
              French daughters and wives,
                Have _five honest men_ to defend ’em!
              And BARRAS and Co.
              When to _England_ we go,
                Will kindly take JOHN’S _in commendam_.

[Illustration]




                                No. XI.


                                                          Jan. 22, 1798.

We have said in another part of our paper of this day, “that though we
shall never begin an attack, we shall always be prompt to repel it”.

On this principle, we could not pass over in silence the EPISTLE TO THE
EDITORS OF THE _Anti-Jacobin_, which appeared in the _Morning Chronicle_
of Wednesday, and from which we have fortunately been furnished with a
motto for this day’s paper.

We assure the author of the epistle, that the answer which we have here
the honour to address to him, contains our genuine and undisguised
sentiments upon the merits of the poem.

Our conjectures respecting the authors and abettors of this performance
may possibly be as vague and unfounded as theirs are with regard to the
EDITORS of the _Anti-Jacobin_. We are sorry that we cannot satisfy their
curiosity upon this subject—but we have little anxiety for the
gratification of our own.

It is hardly to be expected, that the character of the epistle should be
taken on trust from the editors of this volume; it is thought best,
therefore, to subjoin the whole performance as it originally appeared—a
mode of hostility obviously the most fair, and in respect to the
combatants in the cause of Jacobinism, by much the most effectual. They
are always best opposed by the arms which they themselves furnish.
Jacobinism shines by its own light.

To the respectable names which the author of the following address has
thought proper to connect with the “ANTI-JACOBIN,” no apology is made
for thus preserving this otherwise perishable specimen of dulness and
defamation. He who has been reviled by the enemies of the
“ANTI-JACOBIN,” must feel that principles are attributed to him, of
which he need not be ashamed: and when the abuse is conveyed in such a
strain of feebleness and folly, he must see that those principles excite
animosity only in quarters of which he need not be afraid.

It is only necessary to add, what is most conscientiously the truth,
that this production, such as it is, is _by far the best_ of all the
attacks that the combined wits of the cause have been able to muster
against the “ANTI-JACOBIN”.


            EPISTLE TO THE EDITORS OF THE ANTI-JACOBIN.[40]

               _Hic Niger est; hunc tu, Romane, caveto!_

 To tell what gen’rals did, or statesmen spoke,
 To teach the world by truths, or please by joke;
 To make mankind grow bold as they peruse,
 Judge on existing things, and—weigh the news;
 For this a PAPER first display’d its page,
 Commanding tears and smiles through ev’ry age!

   Hail, justly famous! who in modern days
 With nobler flight aspire to higher praise;
 Hail, justly famous! whose discerning eyes
 At once detect MISTAKES, MIS-STATEMENTS, LIES;[41]           10
 Hail, justly famous! who with fancy blest,
 Use fiend-like virulence for sportive jest;
 Who only bark to serve your private ends—
 Patrons of Prejudice, Corruption’s friends!
 Who hurl your venom’d darts at well-earned fame—
 Virtue your hate, and Calumny your aim!

   Whoe’er ye are, all hail!—whether the skill
 Of youthful CANNING guides the ranc’rous quill;
 With powers mechanic far above his age,
 Adapts the paragraph and fills the page;                              20
 Measures the column, mends whate’er’s amiss,
 Rejects THAT letter, and accepts of THIS;
 Or HAMMOND,[42] leaving his official toil,
 O’er this great work consume the midnight oil—
 Bills, passports, letters, for the Muses quit,
 And change dull business for amusing wit:—
 His life of labour at one gasp is o’er,
 His books forgot—his desk beloved no more!
 Proceed to prop the Ministerial cause;
 See consequential MORPETH[43] nods applause;                 30
 In ev’ry fair one’s ears at balls and plays
 The gentle GRANVILLE LEVESON[44] whispers praise:
 Well-judging Patrons, whom such works can please;
 Great works, well worthy Patrons such as these!

   Who heard, not raptured, the poetic Sage
 Who sung of Gallia in a headlong rage,
 And blandly drew with no uncourtly grace
 The simple manners of our English race—
 Extoll’d great DUNCAN, and, supremely brave,
 Whelm’d BUONAPARTE’S pride beneath the wave?                 40
 I swear by all the youths that MALMESBURY[45] chose,
 By ELLIS’[46] sapient prominence of nose,
 By MORPETH’S gait, important, proud, and big—
 By LEVESON GOWER’S crop-imitating wig,
 That, could the pow’rs which in those numbers shine,
 Could that warm spirit animate my line,
 Your glorious deeds which humbly I rehearse—
 Your deeds should live immortal as my verse;
 And, while they wonder’d whence I caught my flame,
 Your sons should blush to read their fathers’ shame!                  50

   Proceed, great men!—your office is not done;
 Proceed with what you have so well begun:
 Load FOX (if you by PITT would be preferr’d),
 With ev’ry guilt that KENYON ever heard—
 Adult’rer, gamester, drunkard, cheat and knave,
 A factious demagogue and pension’d slave!
 Loose, loose your cry—with ire satiric flash:
 Let all the Opposition feel your lash;
 And prove them to these hot and partial times,
 A combination of the worst of crimes!                                 60

   But softer numbers softer subjects fit:
 In liquid phrases thrill the praise of PITT;
 Extol in eulogies of candid truth
 The Virgin Minister—the Heav’n-born Youth;
 The greatest gift that fate to England gave,
 Created to support and born to save;
 Prompt to supply whate’er his country lacks—
 Skilful to GAG, and knowing how to TAX!
 With him companions meet in order stand—
 A firm, compact, and well-appointed band;                             70
 Skill’d to advance or to retreat, DUNDAS,[47]
 And bear thick battle on his front of brass;
 GRENVILLE with pond’rous head, which match’d we find
 By equal ponderosity behind.——

   But hold, my Muse; nor farther these pursue!—
 Great Editors, we have digress’d from you;
 From you, to whom our trivial lays belong,
 From you, the sole inspirers of our song!
 Proceed:—urge on the same vindictive strain,
 To gain the applauses of great MALMESBURY’S train;           80
 With jaundiced eyes the noblest patriot scan:
 Proceed—be more opprobrious if you can;
 Proceed—be more abusive ev’ry hour;
 To be more stupid is beyond your power.


    TO THE AUTHOR OF THE EPISTLE TO THE EDITORS OF THE ANTI-JACOBIN.

                  _Nostrorum sermonum candide judex!_

 Bard of the borrow’d lyre! to whom belong
 The shreds and remnants of each hackney’d song;
 Whose verse thy friends in vain for wit explore,
 And count but _one good line_ in eighty-four!
 Whoe’er thou art, all hail! Thy bitter smile
 Gilds our dull page, and cheers our humble toil!

   For _yet_—though firm and fearless in the cause
 Of pure Religion, Liberty, and Laws,—
 Though TRUTH approved, though fav’ring VIRTUE smiled,
 Some doubts remained: WE _yet_ were _unreviled_.        10

   Thanks to thy zeal! those doubts at length are o’er!
 Thy suffrage crowns our wish!—WE ask no more
 To stamp with sterling worth each honest line,
 Than Censure, cloth’d in vapid Verse like thine!

   But say—in full blown honours dost thou sit
 ’Midst BROOKES’S ELDERS[48] on the BENCH OF WIT,
 Where HARE,[49] chief-justice, frames the stern decree,
 While with their learned brother, sages three,
 FITZPATRICK,[50] TOWNSHEND,[51] SHERIDAN, agree?

   Or art thou One—THE PARTY’S flattered fool,[52]            20
 Train’d in _Debrett’s_, or _Ridgway’s_ civic school—
 One, who with rant and fustian daily wears,
 Well-natured RICHARDSON![53] thy patient ears;—
 Who sees nor Taste nor Genius in these times,
 Save PARR’S[54] _buzz_ prose,[55] and COURTENAY’S[56] kidnapp’d
    rhymes?[57]
 Or is it he,—the youth,[59] whose daring soul
 With _half a mission_ sought the Frozen Pole;—
 And then, returning from the unfinish’d work,
 Wrote _half a letter_,—to demolish BURKE?
 Studied Burke’s manner,—aped his forms of speech;                     30
 Though when he strives his metaphors to reach,
 One luckless slip his meaning overstrains,
 And loads the blunderbuss with BEDFORD’S brains.[60]

   Whoe’er thou art—ne’er may thy patriot fire,
 Unfed by praise or patronage, expire!
 Forbid it, Taste!—with Compensation large
 Patrician hands thy labours shall o’ercharge![61]
 BEDFORD and WHITBREAD shall vast sums advance,
 The _Land_ and _Malt_ of Jacobin Finance!

 Whoe’er thou art—before thy feet we lay,                              40
 With lowly suit, our _Number of to-day_!
 Spurn not our offering with averted eyes!
 Let thy pure breath revive the extinguished _Lies_!
 _Mistakes, Mis-statements_, now so oft o’erthrown,
 Rebuild, and prop with nonsense of thy own!
 Pervert our meaning, and misquote our text—
 And _furnish us a motto for the next_!

[Illustration: _LORD LONGBOW, the Alarmist, discovering the Miseries of
IRELAND.——with the puffing out of the little farthing Rush-light, & ye
story of Moll Coggin._]


                           ODE TO LORD MOIRA.

                           I.

 If on your head[62] some vengeance fell,
 MOIRA, for every tale you tell,
   The listening Lords to cozen;[63]
 If but one whisker lost its hue,
 Changed (like Moll Coggin’s tail) to blue,
   I’d hear them by the dozen.

                           II.

 But still, howe’er you draw your bow,[64]
 Your charms improve, your triumphs grow,
   New grace adorns your figure;
 More stiff your boots, more black your stock,                         10
 Your hat assumes a prouder cock,
   Like Pistol’s (if ’twere bigger).

                           III.

 Tell then your stories, strange and new,[65]
 Your Fathers fame[66] shall vouch them true;
   So shall the _Dublin Papers_;
 Swear by the stars[67] that saw the sight,
 That infant thousands die each night,[68]
   While troops _blow out their tapers_.

                           IV.

 SHUCKBURGH[69][70] shall cheer you with a smile,
 MACPHERSON[71][71] simpering all the while,                  20
   With BASTARD[71][72] and with Bruin:[73]
 And fierce NICHOLL,[74] who wields at will
 Th’ emphatic stick, or powerful quill,
   To prove his country’s ruin.

                           V.

 Each day new followers[75] crowd your board,
 And lean expectants hail my Lord
   With adoration fervent:
 Old THURLOW,[76] though he swore by G—
 No more to own a master’s nod,
   Is still your humble servant.                                       30

                           VI.

 Old PULTENEY[77][78] too, your influence feels,
 And asks from you th’ Exchequer Seals,
   To tax and save the nation:
 TOOKE trembles,[79] lest your potent charms
 Should lure CHARLES FOX from _his_ fond arms,
   To YOUR Administration.[81]                                36


              [TRANSLATION OF HORACE, BOOK II., ODE VIII.

                        BY ARCHDEACON WRANGHAM.

                 Avenger of insulted truth,
             Had Heaven, Barine, dimm’d one tooth;
             Or bade, in justice bade, thee wail
             A speck upon a single nail—
             I’d trust thee: but ere well the vow
             Has passed those treacherous lips, there glow
             New beauties mantling o’er thy cheek;
             And thee the youth, thee only seek.

                 It profits thee to be forsworn
             By thy dead mother’s hallowed urn;
             By heaven, and each mute nightly sign,
             And every deathless power divine.
             Yes: Venus laughs well-pleased, and lo!
             The gentle Nymphs are laughing too;
             And Cupid, who his burning darts
             Whets with fresh blood from lovers’ hearts.

                 Boyhood is rising to thy sway,
             Thy train of slaves augments: e’en they,
             Who swore thy threshold to forsake,
             Hug the fond chain they cannot break.
             Thee for their sons pale mothers fear,
             The frugal father for his heir:
             And plighted maidens, lest thy charms
             Keep the false truants from their arms.—ED.]


                    NOTES TO THE ODE TO LORD MOIRA.

[This Ode, written by GEORGE ELLIS, refers to the wish of a “Third
Party” in the House of Commons, who were dissatisfied with the conduct
of the war, the embarrassed state of the finances, and the alarming
situation of the country, to have an interview with LORD MOIRA, with a
view to effect a change of Ministry. The following extracts from a
letter from his Lordship to COL. M‘MAHON, dated June 15, 1797, will
throw some light on this negotiation. “They requested that I would
endeavour, on the assurance of their support, to form an administration,
on the principle of excluding persons, who had on either side made
themselves obnoxious to the public. I strenuously recommended them to
form an alliance with MR. FOX’S party, that might be satisfactory to
themselves, and reduce to strict engagement the extent of the measures,
which MR. FOX, when brought into office by themselves, would propose.
Hitherto nobody has been designated to any particular office but SIR
WILLIAM PULTENEY. The gentleman had said that he was the person whom
they should be most gratified in seeing CHANCELLOR OF THE EXCHEQUER, and
I had professed to them and to him that there was not any person with
whom I could act more confidently. I added, the introduction of LORD
THURLOW, SIR W. PULTENEY, and myself, into the Cabinet, would not assure
the public of a change of system.”—ED.]

[Illustration]




                                No. XII.


                                                          Jan. 29, 1798.

The following Ode[A] was dropped into the letterbox in our Publisher’s
window. From its title—“A BIT OF AN ODE TO MR. FOX”—we were led to
imagine there was some mistake in the business, and that it was meant to
have been conveyed to Mr. Wright’s neighbour, Mr. Debrett, whom we
recollected to have been the Publisher of the “Half of a Letter” to the
same gentleman, which occasioned so much noise (of horse-laughing) in
the world. Our politics certainly do not entitle us to the honourable
distinction of being made the channel for communicating such a
production to the public. But, for our parts, as we are “not at war with
genius,” on whatever side we find it, we are happy to give this Poem the
earliest place in our Paper; and shall be equally ready to pay the same
attention to any future favours of the same kind, and from the same
quarter.

The Poem is a free translation, or rather, perhaps, imitation, of the
twentieth Ode of the second Book of HORACE. We have taken the liberty to
subjoin the passages of which the parallel is the most striking.


                    A BIT OF AN ODE TO MR. FOX.[82]

                                      I.

            On[83] grey goose quills sublime I’ll soar
            To metaphors unreach’d before,
              That scare the vulgar reader:
            With style well form’d from Burke’s best books—
            From rules of grammar (e’en HORNE TOOKE’S)
              A bold and free Seceder.

                                      II.

            I[84] whom, dear Fox, you condescend
            To call your “Honourable Friend,”
              Shall live for everlasting:
            That[85] Stygian Gallery I’ll quit,
            Where printers crowd me, as I sit
              Half-dead with rage and fasting.

                                      III.

            I[86] feel! the growing down descends,
            Like goose-skin, to my fingers’ ends—
              Each nail becomes a feather:
            My cropp’d head[87] waves with sudden plumes,
            Which erst (like Bedford’s, or his groom’s)
              Unpowder’d, braved the weather.[88]

                                      IV.

            I mount, I mount into the sky,
            “Sweet[89] bird,” to[90] _Petersburg_ I’ll fly;
              Or, if you bid, to _Paris_;
            Fresh missions of the _Fox and Goose_
            Successful Treaties may produce;
              Though PITT in all miscarries.

                                      V.

            Scotch,[91] English, Irish _Whigs_ shall read
            The Pamphlets, Letters, Odes I breed,
              Charm’d with each bright endeavour:
            _Alarmists_[92] tremble at my strain,
            E’en[93] PITT, made candid by champaign,
              Shall hail ADAIR “_the clever_”.

                                      VI.

            Though criticism assail my name,
            And luckless blunders blot my fame,[94]
              O![95] make no needless bustle;
            As vain and idle it would be
            To waste one pitying thought on me,
              As to[96] “unPLUMB a RUSSELL”.[97]


                  [LYRICS OF HORACE, BOOK II., ODE XX.

                   TRANSLATED BY ARCHDEACON WRANGHAM.

                Borne on no weak or vulgar wing,
              Upward through air, two-form’d, I’ll spring;
              Nor longer grovel here, but soar
              Where Envy shall pursue no more.
              Not I, from humble lineage sprung,
              Not I, dear Patron, whom thy tongue
              Summons to fame, will fear to die,
              Or bound by Styx’s fetters lie.

                A rougher skin my legs assume;
              My upward limbs the cygnet’s plume
              Invests; my shoulders, fingers feel
              The feathery softness o’er them steal.

                Fleeter than Icarus now I’ll haste,
              A tuneful swan, to Libya’s waste,
              And heaving sands, where Bospor’s wave
              Tosses, or Arctic tempests rave.
              Me Colchis, Dacia me shall learn,
              Who hides her fear of Marsian stern;
              Me Scythia’s hordes, the well-trained son
              Of Spain, and he who quaffs the Rhone.

                From my mock bier be far away
              The loud lament, the funeral lay;
              And, tribute to my fancied doom,
              Far the vain honours of the tomb!—ED.]

  [The charge of FOX’S having sent ADAIR to St. Petersburg, to
  counteract the measures of PITT’S government, first broached in Mr.
  Burke’s “Letter on the Conduct of the Minority,” has been vigorously
  contradicted, yet so late as April, 1854, it was alluded to as a
  fact by Lord Malmesbury in the House of Peers. It was, however, on
  this occasion again authoritatively denied by LORD CAMPBELL, who
  took occasion to observe that SIR ROBERT ADAIR was “now in his 90th
  year, and for many years had served his country with great assiduity
  and fidelity. He had been sent by successive ministers [Mr. Fox,
  Lord Grey, _Mr. Canning_ (who assisted in libelling him so often in
  the pages of the present work), Lord Wellesley, Lord Palmerston, the
  Duke of Wellington] to Vienna, to Constantinople, to Brussels, and
  to Berlin, and had represented the Crown of England upon some
  occasions of very great importance, in which he had uniformly
  acquitted himself to the satisfaction of the Government and for the
  benefit of his country. He believed a more honourable man had not
  lived in this country at any time.”

  The following denial by Sir Robert Adair himself is copied from his
  autograph statement, prefixed to the _Life of Wilberforce_,
  published in 1838:—“This idle story is here accredited by Mr.
  Wilberforce, and inserted by his sons, without due examination. It
  was grounded on a journey I made to Vienna and St. Petersburg in
  1791. Doctor Prettyman [_sic_], Bishop of Winchester, in a work
  entitled _The Life of the Right Hon. William Pitt_, published by him
  in 1823, brought forward the fact of my having gone upon this
  journey as a criminal charge against Mr. Fox, who, as he pretends,
  sent me upon it with the intent of counteracting some negociations
  then carrying on between Great Britain and Russia at St. Petersburg.
  I answered his accusation, I trust successfully, in two letters
  published by Longman & Co. [_Two Letters from Mr. Adair to the Bp.
  of Winchester, in answer to the charge of a High Treasonable
  Misdemeanour brought by his Lordship against Mr. Fox and himself in
  his Life of the Rt. Hon. W. Pitt_, 8vo., 1821], and explained the
  circumstances which induced me in my travels in 1791 to visit the
  two capitals above mentioned.—ROBERT ADAIR: 1838.”

  The “Mission” was, however, firmly believed in, and PITT was urged,
  but in vain, by the Duke of Richmond and others of the Government,
  to arrest FOX for high treason.

  The following extract from the _Political Memoranda of Francis,
  fifth Duke of Leeds, now first printed from the Originals in the
  British Museum; edited by Oscar Browning, for the Camden Society_,
  1884, is an illustration of the rumours current at the time, and
  many years after.

  “Saty. 24 Novr. 1792. LORD ST. HELENS dined with me. After the
  Ladies were gone upstairs we conversed, for some time on Foreign
  affairs.... Speaking of the Russian business of last year he
  reprobated in the strongest terms the conduct of FOX in sending an
  agent, MR. ADAIR, to Petersburg to counteract the negociations of
  this Court at that of Russia. He told me he knew for certain that
  MR. ADAIR had shewn to some English merchants at Petersburg the
  Empress’ Picture set in diamonds which had been given to him. That
  it was not one of the sort usually given, but of much greater value,
  being set round with large Brilliants, and the whole Picture covered
  with a Table Diamond instead of Chrystal. That this was a present
  seldom made but on some very particular occasion or to some great
  favorite (I remember to have seen such a one in the possession of P.
  Orlow). LD. ST. H. thought it must have been worth six or seven
  thousand pounds, and of too much value probably to have been meant
  for MR. ADAIR. The conclusion we both very naturally drew from this
  circumstance was not very favorable to MR. FOX.”

  The following additional particulars relating to the connection
  between FOX and ADAIR may not be thought out of place here. They are
  extracted from the highly interesting and important _Croker Papers,
  being the Correspondence and Diaries, 1809–1830, of the Rt. Hon._ J.
  W. CROKER, _M.P., Edited by Louis J. Jennings. M.P._, 3 vols., 8vo.,
  1884.

  The first is in these terms: “When ADAIR, whose father was a
  surgeon, went as FOX’S Ambassador to Russia, LORD WHITWORTH, then
  the King’s Minister, made a good joke, which tended not a little to
  lower ADAIR, and defeat his object. ‘Est-ce un homme très
  considérable, ce M. d’Adair?’ asked the EMPRESS. ‘Pas trop, Madame,’
  replied Lord Whitworth, ‘quoique son père était grand seigneur
  [saigneur].’” The other is taken from a very long statement on
  various matters, made by K. George IV., when Prince of Wales, to
  Croker personally. Adair’s wife, the Prince said, was a Frenchwoman
  with whom ANDREOSSI, when here as Buonaparte’s Minister, intrigued.
  THE DUCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE told him—the Prince of Wales—that Mrs.
  Adair had offered her a bribe of £10,000 down, and as much more
  whenever she might want it, if she would communicate the Cabinet
  secrets, with which the French thought she could not fail to be
  acquainted, through her intimacy with all the leaders of the
  Government. This caused a breach between FOX and ADAIR. But the
  former could only tell ADAIR that an obstacle—which he could neither
  reveal nor overcome, but which did not affect or alter FOX’S
  personal regard for him—prevented his appointment to be FOX’S
  Under-Secretary of State.—_Croker Papers_, i. 293.—ED.]

[Illustration]




                               No. XIII.


                                                           Feb. 5, 1798.


                ACME AND SEPTIMIUS; OR, THE HAPPY UNION
               CELEBRATED AT THE CROWN AND ANCHOR TAVERN.

           FOX,[98] with TOOKE to grace his side,
           Thus address’d his blooming bride—
           “Sweet! should I e’er, in power or place,
           Another Citizen embrace;
           Should e’er my eyes delight to look
           On aught alive save JOHN HORNE TOOKE,
           Doom me to ridicule and ruin,
           In the coarse hug[99] of _Indian_ Bruin!”
             He spoke;[100] and to the left and right,
             NORFOLK hiccupp’d with delight.
           TOOKE,[101] his bald head gently moving,
             On the sweet patriot’s drunken eyes
             His wine-empurpled lips applies,
           And thus returns in accents loving:
           “So, my dear[102] CHARLEY, may success
           At length my ardent wishes bless,
           And lead, through discord’s low’ring storm,
           To one grand RADICAL REFORM!
           As, from this hour I love thee more
           Than e’er I hated thee before!”
             He spoke, and to the left and right,
             NORFOLK hiccupp’d with delight.
           With this good omen they proceed;[103]
           Fond toasts their mutual passion feed;
           In FOX’S breast HORNE TOOKE prevails
           Before[104] rich _Ireland_ and _South Wales_;[105]
           And FOX (unread each other book),
           Is Law and Gospel to HORNE TOOKE.
             When were such kindred souls united?
             Or wedded pair so much delighted?


                  [ACME AND SEPTIMIUS. FROM CATULLUS.

                SEPTIMIUS said, and fondly prest
                The doating ACME to his breast:—
                “My Acme, if I prize not thee
                With love as warm as love can be,
                With passion spurning any fears
                Of growing faint in length of years,
                Alone may I defenceless stand
                To meet, on Lybia’s desert sand,
                Or under India’s torrid sky,
                The tawny lion’s glaring eye!”
                LOVE, before who utter’d still
                On the left-hand omens ill,
                As he ceased his faith to plight
                Laugh’d propitious on the right.
                Then ACME gently bent her head,
                Kiss’d with those lips of cherry red
                The eyes of the delightful boy,
                That swam with glistening floods of joy;
                And whisper’d as she closely prest—
                “SEPTIMIUS, soul of ACME’S breast,
                Let all our lives and feelings own
                One lord, one sovereign, Love alone!
                I yield to love, and yield to thee,
                For thou and love are one to me.
                Though fond thy fervent heart may beat,
                My feelings glow with greater heat,
                And madder flames my bosom melt
                Than all that thou hast ever felt.”—ED.]

  [The following account of the celebration of FOX’S Birth-day,
  printed in the _Anti-Jacobin_, has not hitherto appeared in the
  editions of the _Poetry_. _The Song by Mr. Fox_ refers to the
  Subscription raised, after a meeting at the Crown and Anchor, in the
  summer of 1793, for relieving him in his then present need, and
  purchasing an Annuity for him. A Caricature by GILLRAY on this
  meeting was published on the 12th June, 1793.


                          MR. FOX’S BIRTH-DAY.

  The public, distracted with the various accounts of the celebration
  of Mr. Fox’s Birth-day, naturally turn to us for an authentic detail
  of that important event—from a recollection of the correct and
  impartial statement we gave in a former Number, of what passed at a
  MEETING OF THE FRIENDS OF FREEDOM [page 32].

  To justify their confidence, we have had recourse to the _Morning
  Post_ and _Morning Chronicle_ (the _Courier_ being too stupid for
  our purpose), whose statements we have carefully read, and corrected
  from the information of several gentlemen who were present. We are
  thus enabled to lay before our readers a genuine narrative of the
  whole proceeding, which we defy the tongue of Slander to controvert
  in any material point.

  As Mr. Fox’s reputation had been for some time on the decline, it
  was thought necessary by the party (who are in great want of a
  _Head_) to make as respectable an appearance as possible on the
  present occasion. It was therefore suggested (at a previous meeting
  of confidential friends) that if the unfortunate shyness which
  subsisted between the _Whig Club_ and the _Corresponding Society_
  could be opportunely removed by a few unimportant concessions on the
  part of the former, such a number of citizens might be readily
  procured from that respectable body as would serve to give the day
  an _éclat_ it had not experienced since the fatal schism of 1792.

  This hint, so reasonable in itself, was immediately adopted, and Sir
  FRANCIS BURDETT, who was well acquainted with their haunts, was
  ordered into the neighbourhood of Smithfield with a competent number
  of tickets. He was on the point of setting out, when the Editor of
  the _Morning Post_ observed, that _forgery_[106] was so common at
  present, that he hardly thought it prudent to admit all who might
  come with a bit of scribbled paper: on this it was determined to
  distribute the price of admission amongst a certain number of people
  to be selected by the Envoy:—these, it was rightly concluded, would
  not fail to appear, from motives of vanity, as they could have no
  other possible chance of dining with the Premier Dupe, we would say
  Duke, in England. It now remained to determine the sum: this, after
  a short discussion, was fixed at Eight Shillings and Sixpence per
  head, “which,” said the Editor of the _Morning Post_, “will shew we
  cannot he persons of mean rank, since we can afford, in hard times,
  to give so much for a dinner”;[107] and Citizen BOSVILLE was desired
  to advance the money upon the credit of the Whig Fund.

  Previous to the meeting, the chairman dispatched a note to Sir
  WILLIAM ADDINGTON, requesting that the Crown and Anchor might be
  exempted from the visitation of his runners during the morning of
  the 24th [Jan., 1798]. To this Sir WILLIAM assented, on condition
  that it should be recommended to the gentlemen, to leave their
  pocket-books and watches at home, that there might be as little
  temptation as possible to break the peace. Thus everything was
  arranged with a precaution that seemed to set accident at defiance.

  Before four o’clock the passage to the LARGE ROOM was crammed, when,
  on a hint that dinner was on the point of being served, one of the
  head waiters advanced to the great door, and opened a wicket for the
  admission of the company, as fast as they paid down their money. Two
  or three had already passed in good order, when Mr. John Nicholls
  advanced, and instead of 8s. 6d., produced to the astonished
  receiver, _seventeen_ of his PRINTED SPEECHES, which, valuing them
  at sixpence a-piece, he contended would make up the sum required.
  These “_assets_” however, were absolutely rejected; and a violent
  dispute was on the point of commencing, when Sir CHRISTOPHER HAWKINS
  stept forward, and whispering a few words, which we did not hear,
  obtained leave for his friend to pass. The Speeches were therefore
  deposited, and Mr. NICHOLLS was already got within the wicket, when
  the man suddenly pulled him back by the coat, and the dispute
  recommenced with more violence than ever. Upon inquiry into the
  cause of this new tumult, we found that a wag (whom we afterwards
  discovered to be Mr. JEKYLL) had played the member for Tregony a
  trick; having taken an opportunity, in the crowd, of extracting the
  _genuine_ speeches from the pocket of the Honourable Member, and
  replacing them by the same number of the _spurious_ ones, printed
  for Mr. WRIGHT, the publisher of this Paper. These the waiter very
  properly refused to receive, alleging, and indeed truly, that
  instead of _six_ pence a-piece, the whole seventeen were not worth
  _six_ farthings.

  This altercation continued so long, that the company grew impatient;
  and Mr. BRYAN EDWARDS, a little ashamed of his friend, who still
  continued obstinate, offered to furnish his quota. Harmony now
  seemed to be restored, when all at once a cry of astonishment broke
  forth that beggars all description. On putting his hand into his
  pocket for the price of admission, Mr. E. suddenly turned pale, and
  exclaimed, “by G—, gentlemen, some of you have picked my pockets!” A
  hundred voices instantly repeated the same cry, and a dreadful scene
  of confusion and uproar took place.

               Ardebant cuncta et fracta compage ruebant.

  What the consequence would have been, it is impossible to say, had
  not the waiter, with an air of authority, commanded the doors to be
  shut at each end of the passage, and every man to exhibit the
  contents of his pocket. A faint cry of No! No! was over-ruled; and
  Sir FRANCIS BURDETT produced an old Red Cap from the bosom of his
  shirt, which he put into the hands of the Duke of BEDFORD, who was
  appointed collector-general _by acclamation_. With this his Grace
  went, from man to man, executing his duty with the utmost fairness
  and impartiality; and when he had finished, poured out the contents
  of the cap before them all. These, it must be confessed, were a
  little heterogeneous, consisting, besides a large sum of money, of a
  brass knocker (this was immediately claimed by the landlord), a
  pewter pot squeezed together, a pair of pattens, a pint decanter, a
  duck ready trussed for dressing, a great quantity of potatoes, and a
  vinegar cruet. What was most extraordinary was, that though, as his
  Grace afterwards declared, the money was found in very unequal
  portions, yet the total sum, which was £222, 5s. 6d., being divided
  among the company, amounting to 523 persons, produced 8s. 6d. for
  each individual, with the exception of the _Member_ for _Tregony_,
  who brought nothing but his speech, and Capt. MORRIS, who pays for
  everything with a Song.

  Nothing material occurred during the Dinner, which was allowed to be
  excellent of its kind, and where no such dish as Cow-heel (as
  maliciously reported in _The True Briton_) made its appearance.

  As soon as the cloth was removed, the Duke of NORFOLK took the Chair
  amidst repeated plaudits,[108] and addressed the Company in these
  words:

  “Three virtuous Men, Citizens, have stood up in defence of
  Liberty—MAXIMILIAN ROBESPIERRE, COLLOT D’HERBOIS, and CHARLES JAMES
  FOX:—The first is guillotined; the second transported to _Cayenne_;
  and the third”——Here all eyes were immediately upon Mr. FOX, who now
  entered the room, supported by Citizens JOHN GALE JONES and JOHN
  HORNE TOOKE—“As the Right Hon. Gentleman (resumed the Duke, a little
  peevishly) has mistaken his cue, and appeared sooner than he ought,
  I shall spare his modesty the panegyric I was preparing, and shortly
  conclude with proposing the health of CHARLES JAMES FOX.”—This was
  drank with three times three.

  As soon as the clamour had subsided, Mr. FOX arose and said, “That
  language, at least any which he could boast, was inadequate to the
  exquisite feelings of gratitude which at once delighted and
  oppressed him, at the sight of so numerous and so respectable a body
  of free and independent Citizens, met for a purpose which would make
  this the proudest and the happiest day of his life”. Having dwelt a
  little on this idea, Mr. FOX observed, “that he would not interrupt
  the conviviality of the day by a long Speech: he knew there were
  several present who came to hear him make a long Speech, but he
  would not make a long Speech—to what purpose should he do it?—what
  could he add to the Speech lately delivered by him, and so
  faithfully recorded in the ANTI-JACOBIN, a contemptible Publication,
  but one to which the praise of Accuracy could not be denied. The new
  and extraordinary circumstances of the times called for new and
  extraordinary measures: he would, therefore, if they pleased,
  compress what he had to say into a _Song_—(_loud applauses_)—One
  word only.—He owed both the _burden_ and the _idea_ of this Song to
  the _Morning Chronicle_. He had yesterday, the 23rd, found there A
  BEGGING ADDRESS to the Nation, with DATE OBOLUM BELISARIO prefixed
  to it as a Motto. This had pleased him much, and this morning at
  breakfast he had endeavoured to adapt it, _mutatis mutandis_, to his
  own circumstances: he should now have the honour of giving it.”


                            SONG BY MR. FOX.

                            _To the Tune of_
            “Good People of England, and all who love Ale.”

       Good People of England, of every degree,
       Lords, Commoners, listen, O! listen to me;
       Republicans, Royalists, all—mark my ditty—
       You’ll find I’ve a number of claims on your pity—
                                         Date Obolum Belisario.

       Ye who heard me assert that Lord NORTH, now so mourn’d,
       Was a _beast_ to be shunn’d, was a _fool_ to be scorn’d,
       Yet who saw me, with real or fancied alarms,
       Take the _fool_ to my councils, the _beast_ to my arms,
                                         Date Obolum Belisario.

       Ye who heard me declare the SUBSCRIBERS of REEVES
       Were a scoundrel collection of cut-throats and thieves,
       Yet who saw me immediately after repair,
       And SUBSCRIBE at the Long-Room in Hanover Square,
                                         Date Obolum Belisario.

       Ye who heard—when Invasion was close at our door,
       And _Parker_ and Liberty rul’d at the _Nore_—
       Ye who heard—no; I mean, who DID NOT HEAR me speak,
       While SHERIDAN,[109] damn him! affected to squeak,
                                         Date Obolum Belisario.

       Ye who heard me repeat that Resistance, at length,
       Was reduc’d, by PITT’S Bill, to a question of _Strength_,
       And that _prudence_ alone——

  We know not how far Mr. FOX might have proceeded, had he not been
  interrupted by a jangling of bells from the Side-table which
  immediately drew all eyes that way. This proceeded from Capt.
  MORRIS, who had fallen asleep during Mr. FOX’S Song, and was now
  nodding on his chair, with a large paper Cap on his head, ornamented
  with gilt tassels and bells, which one of the company had
  dexterously whipped on unperceived. The first motion was that of
  indignation; but the stupid stare of the unconscious Captain, who
  half opened his eyes at every sound of the bells as his head rose or
  fell, and immediately closed them again, _somno vinoque gravatus_,
  had such a powerful effect on the risible faculties of the Company,
  that they broke, as if by consent, into the most violent and
  convulsive fits of laughter; Mr. FOX himself not being exempt from
  the general contagion.

  As soon as the Captain was made sensible of the cause of this
  uproar, he attempted to pull off the Cap, but was prevented by a
  Citizen from the _Corresponding Society_, who maintained that the
  Company had a right to be amused by the Captain in what manner they
  pleased; and that, as he seemed to amuse them more effectually in
  _that state_ than in any other, he insisted, for one, on his
  continuing to wear the Cap. This was universally agreed to, with the
  exception of the Duke of NORFOLK. The Captain was therefore led to
  the upper table, with all his “jangling honours loud upon him!”
  Here, as soon as he was seated, his Noble Friend called upon him for
  a Song.

  The Captain sang the “PLENIPO” in his best manner.

  This was received with great applause; and then the Duke gave “The
  Defenders—of Ireland”—(_three times three_).

  Captain MORRIS then began

                     “And all the Books of Moses”;—

  but was interrupted, before he had finished the first line, by Mr.
  TIERNEY, who declared he would not sit there and hear anything like
  ridicule on the Bible.[110]—(_Much coughing and scraping_.)—Mr.
  Erskine took God to witness, that he thought the Captain meant no
  harm;—and a gentleman from Cambridge, whose name we could not learn,
  said, with great _naïveté_, that it was no more than was done every
  day by his acquaintance. Mr. TIERNEY, however, persisted in his
  opposition to the Song, and Captain MORRIS was obliged to substitute
  “Jenny Sutton” in the place of it.

  But the good humour of the company was already broken in upon, and
  Mr. TIERNEY soon after left the room (to which he did not return)
  with greater marks of displeasure in his face than we ever remember
  to have seen there.

  The Duke now gave RADICAL REFORM (_three times three, followed by
  continued shouts of applause_).

  A Counsellor JACKSON attempted to sing “Paddy Whack,” but was soon
  silenced, on account of his stupid perversion of the words, and his
  bad voice.

  Citizen GALE JONES then rose and said—that he was no Orator, though
  he got his living by oratory, being Chairman of a Debating Society.
  He had also written a book—which he was told had some merit. He did
  not rise to recommend it, but he thought it right to _hint_, that
  those who wished for Constitutional information might be supplied
  with it at the Bar; the price was trifling—Eighteen-pence was
  nothing to the majority of the Company;—to himself, indeed—(here Mr.
  HORNE TOOKE called out Order! Order! with some marks of
  impatience)—He begged pardon, he would say no more—there was no one
  whom he valued like Mr. TOOKE, there was no one indeed to whom he
  was under such obligations; the very shoes he had on were charged by
  Citizen HARDY to Mr. TOOKE’S account—Mr. TOOKE was also a great
  friend to a Radical Reform—he loved a Radical Reform himself; the
  Poor must always love Radical Reforms—he should therefore beg leave
  to propose the health of Mr. JOHN HORNE TOOKE.—(_Three times
  three._)

  Mr. TOOKE rose, and spoke nearly as follows: “You all know,
  Citizens, in what detestation I once held the Man whose Birth-day we
  are now met to commemorate. You cannot yet have forgot the ‘TWO PAIR
  OF PORTRAITS’ I formerly published, nor the glaring light in which I
  hung up him and his father to the execration of an indignant
  posterity. You must also be apprized of the charges of Corruption,
  Insurrection, and Murder (_much hissing and applause, the latter
  predominant_) which I brought against him, justly, as I must still
  think, at a former Election for Westminster. How happens it then,
  you will say, that I now come forward to do him honour? I will tell
  you. At the last Election for Westminster, I had still my suspicions
  of his sincerity; he appeared too anxious to preserve measures with
  the spruce and powdered Aristocrats who usually attended him to the
  Hustings; nor was it till the fourth or fifth day before the close
  of the Poll, that those suspicions were removed. Aware that he was
  losing ground among the People, he determined to make one great
  effort to re-establish his popularity. He therefore came forward,
  and addressed the free and independent Electors in front of the
  Hustings, in a Speech, of which the remembrance yet warms my heart.
  From that moment, I marked him as my own! Retractation was
  impossible; and the panegyric he lately delivered on a Radical
  Reform, in a House which I despise too much to name, was the natural
  and inevitable consequence of that day’s declaration. You may
  remember, that when I addressed my Friends, I only said, ‘Gentlemen,
  Mr. FOX has spoken my sentiments; he has even gone beyond them—but I
  thank him’.—What I then said I now repeat, with regard to his Speech
  on a late occasion—‘I AM MOST PERFECTLY SATISFIED WITH HIS CONDUCT;
  NOR DO I WISH TO ADVANCE ONE STEP IN THE CAUSE OF REFORM, BEYOND
  WHAT MR. FOX HAS PLEDGED HIMSELF TO GO!!!’”[111]

  Mr. TOOKE then begged leave to propose Mr. FOX’S health for the
  second time, and sat down amidst a thunder of applause.[112]

  The Duke of NORFOLK observed to the Company, that as they had drunk
  the health of a Man dear to the People, he would now call upon them
  to drink the health of their Sovereign[113]—here a hiccup
  interrupted his Grace, and a most violent cry of “No Sovereign! no
  Sovereign!” resounded through the room, and continued for several
  minutes, notwithstanding the earnest entreaties of the Duke to be
  heard. Order was, however, restored at length, when his Grace gently
  chid the Company for taking advantage of a slight infirmity of
  nature, to impute a design to him which was wholly foreign from his
  heart—(_loud applause_). He augured well, however, of their
  patriotism, and would now afford them an opportunity of repairing
  the injury they had done him, by giving the Toast as he
  intended—“THE HEALTH OF OUR SOVEREIGN—THE MAJESTY OF THE
  PEOPLE”.[114]—(_Loud and incessant shouts of applause._)

  A disgusting scene of uproar and confusion followed, which we shall
  not attempt to detail. The Chairman sank under the table in a state
  of stupefaction, and the rest of the Company, maddened alike with
  noise and wine, committed a thousand outrages, till they were
  literally turned into the streets by the Waiters. As many of them as
  could speak were conducted home by the watchmen; others were
  conveyed “in silent majesty” to the Round-house; and not a few of
  them slept out the remainder of the night upon the steps of the
  neighbouring houses. The Reporters of the Jacobin Papers were sought
  out, and conveyed home by the pressmen, devils, &c., and one poor
  youth, whom we afterwards found to be a Writer in the _Morning
  Chronicle_ (hired for the day by _The True Briton_)[115] had his
  pockets picked of a clean white Handkerchief and a Notebook, after
  being severely beaten for deserting his former Employers.

[Illustration: '_The]




                                No. XIV.


                                                          Feb. 12, 1798.

It has been our invariable custom to suppress such of our
correspondents’ favours as conveyed any compliments to ourselves; and we
have deviated from it in the present instance, not so much out of
respect to the uncommon excellence of the Poem before us, as because it
agrees so intimately with the general design of our paper—to expose the
deformity of the French Revolution, to counteract the detestable arts of
those who are seeking to introduce it here, and above all, to invigorate
the exertions of our countrymen against every Foe, foreign and domestic,
by showing them the immense and inexhaustible resources they yet possess
in British Courage and British Virtue!


                                   TO
                    THE AUTHOR OF THE ANTI-JACOBIN.

        FOE TO THY COUNTRY’S FOES! ’tis THINE to claim
        From Britain’s genuine sons a British fame—
        Too long French manners our fair isle disgraced;
        Too long French fashions shamed our native taste.
        Still prone to change, we half-resolved to try
        The proffered charms of FRENCH FRATERNITY.

          Fair was her form, and FREEDOM’S honour’d name
        Conceal’d the horrors of her secret shame:
        She claim’d some kindred with that guardian pow’r,
        Long worshipp’d here in Britain’s happier hour:
        Virtue and Peace, she said, were in her train,
        The long-lost blessings of ASTRÆA’S reign—
        But soon the vizor dropp’d—her haggard face
        Betray’d the FURY lurking in the GRACE—
        The false attendants that behind her press’d,
        In vain disguised, the latent guilt confess’d:
        PEACE dropt her snow-white robe, and shudd’ring show’d
        AMBITION’S mantle reeking fresh with blood;
        Presumptuous FOLLY stood in REASON’S form,
        Pleased with the power to ruin,—not reform;
        PHILOSOPHY, proud phantom, undismay’d,
        With cold regard the ghastly train survey’d;
        Saw PERSECUTION gnash her iron teeth,
        While _Atheists_ preach’d the _eternal sleep of death_;
        Saw ANARCHY the social chain unbind,
        And DISCORD sour the blood of human kind;
        Then talk’d of Nature’s Rights, and Equal Sway;
        And saw her system safe—AND STALK’D AWAY!

          Foil’d by our ARMS, where’er in ARMS we met,
        With ARTS LIKE THESE the foe assails us yet.
        Hopeless the fort to storm, or to surprise,
        More secret wiles his envious malice tries;
        Diseas’d himself, spread wide his own despair,
        Pollutes the fount, and taints the wholesome air.

          While many a Chief, to glory not unknown,
        Alarms each hostile shore, and guards our own,
        ’Tis THINE, the latent treachery to proclaim;
        An humbler warfare, but the cause the same.
        In vain had POMPEY crush’d the PONTIC HOST,
        And chas’d the pirate swarm from every coast;
        The crew that leagu’d their country to o’erthrow;
        The base confederates of a GALLIC[116] foe;
        Had not the Civic Consul’s watchful eye
        Track’d through the windings of conspiracy,
        Exposed, confounded, shamed, and forced away,
        The “JACOBIN REFORMER[117] of his day”.

          ’Tis THINE a subtler mischief to pursue,
        And drag a deeper, darker, plot to view;
        Whate’er its form, still ready to engage,
        Detect its malice, or resist its rage;
        Whether it whispers low, or raves aloud,
        In sneers profane, or blasphemies avow’d;[118]
        Insults its King, reviles its Country’s cause,
        And, ’scaped from Justice, braves the lenient Laws:
        Whate’er the hand in desperate faction bold,
        By native hate inspired, or foreign gold;
        Traitors absolved, and libellers released,
        The recreant Peer, or renegado Priest;[119]
        The _Sovereign-people’s_ cringing, crafty slave,
        The dashing fool, and instigating knave,
        Each claims thy care; nor think the labour vain—
        VERMIN HAVE SUNK THE SHIP THAT RULED THE MAIN.

          ’Tis THINE, with Truth’s fair shield to ward the blow,
        And turn the weapon back upon the foe:
        To trace the skulking fraud, the candid cheat,
        That can retract the falsehood, yet repeat;
        To wake the listless, slumb’ring as they lie,
        Lapt in th’ embrace of soft security;
        To rouse the cold, re-animate the brave,
        And shew the cautious all they have to save.

          Erect that standard ALFRED first unfurl’d,
        Britain’s just pride, the wonder of the world;
        Whose staff is Freedom’s spear, whose blazon’d field
        Beams with the CHRISTIAN CROSS, the REGAL SHIELD;
        That standard which the PATRIOT BARONS bore,
        Restored, from RUNIMEDE’S resounding shore;
        Which since consign’d to WILLIAM’S guardian hand,
        Waved in new splendour o’er a grateful land;
        Which oft in vain by force or fraud assail’d,
        Has stood the shock of ages—and prevail’d.

          Yes! the BRIGHT SUN OF BRITAIN yet shall shine—
        The clouds are earth-born, but his fire divine;
        That temperate splendour, and that genial heat,
        Shall still illume, and cherish Empire’s Seat;
        While the red Meteor, whose portentous glare
        Shot plagues infectious through the troubled air;
        Admired, or fear’d no more, shall melt away,
        Lost in the radiance of HIS BRIGHTER DAY!

[Illustration: '_DESIGN]


                                 LINES.
    _Written under the Bust of Charles Fox at the Crown and Anchor._

       I’ll not sell Uncle NOLL, Charles Surface cries;—
       I’ll not sell CHARLEY FOX, John Bull replies:
       Sell him, indeed! who’ll find me such another?—
       Fox is above all price; so hold your pother.
                                         _Morning Post, Feb. 6._

To make our readers some amends for this miserable doggrel, we will
present them, in our turn, with some lines written _under a bust_, NOT
_at the Crown and Anchor_, by an ENGLISH TRAVELLER just returned from
Petersburgh. We believe they are more just; we are certain they are more
poetical.


                                 LINES.
   _Written by a Traveller at Czarco-zelo under the Bust of a certain
     Orator, once placed between those of Demosthenes and Cicero._

                                       I.

               THE GRECIAN Orator of old,
             With scorn rejected PHILIP’S laws,
               Indignant spurn’d at foreign gold,
             And triumph’d in his country’s cause.

                                       II.

               A foe to every wild extreme,
             ’Mid civil storms, the Roman Sage
               Repress’d Ambition’s frantic scheme,
             And check’d the madding people’s rage.

                                       III.

               Their country’s peace, and wealth and fame,
             With patriot zeal their labours sought,
               And Rome’s or Athens’ honoured name
             Inspired and govern’d every thought.

                                       IV.

               Who now, in this presumptuous hour,
             Aspires to share the Athenian’s praise?
               —The advocate of foreign power,
             The Æschines of later days.

                                       V.

               What chosen name to Tully’s join’d,
             Is thus announced to distant climes?
               —Behold, to lasting shame consign’d,
             The _Catiline_ of modern times![120]

[Illustration]




                                No. XV.


                                                          Feb. 19, 1798.


                       THE PROGRESS OF MAN.[121]

                           =A Didactic Poem,=

   IN FORTY CANTOS, WITH NOTES CRITICAL AND EXPLANATORY: CHIEFLY OF A
                        PHILOSOPHICAL TENDENCY.

                    DEDICATED TO R. P. KNIGHT, ESQ.


                              CANTO FIRST.

  CONTENTS.—The Subject proposed.—Doubts and Waverings.—Queries not to
    be answered.—Formation of the stupendous Whole.—Cosmogony; or the
    Creation of the World:—the Devil—Man—Various Classes of
    Being:—ANIMATED BEINGS—Birds—Fish—Beasts—the Influence of the Sexual
    Appetite—on Tigers—on Whales—On Crimpt Cod—on Perch—on
    Shrimps—on Oysters.—Various Stations assigned to different
    Animals:—Birds—Bears—Mackerel.—Bears remarkable for their
    fur—Mackerel cried on a Sunday—Birds do not graze—nor Fishes fly—nor
    Beasts live in the Water.—Plants equally contented with their
    lot:—Potatoes—Cabbage—Lettuce—Leeks—Cucumbers.—MAN only
    discontented—born a Savage; not choosing to continue so, becomes
    polished—resigns his Liberty—Priest-craft—King-craft—Tyranny of Laws
    and Institutions.—Savage Life—description thereof:—The Savage
    free—roaming Woods—feeds on Hips and Haws—Animal Food—first notion
    of it from seeing a Tiger tearing his prey—wonders if it is
    good—resolves to try—makes a Bow and Arrow—kills a Pig—resolves to
    roast a part of it—lights a fire—APOSTROPHE to fires—Spits and Jacks
    not yet invented.—Digression.—CORINTH—SHEFFIELD.—Love, the most
    natural desire after Food.—Savage Courtship.—Concubinage
    recommended.—Satirical Reflections on Parents and Children—Husbands
    and Wives—against collateral Consanguinity.—FREEDOM the only
    Morality, &c. &c. &c.

 Whether some great, supreme o’er-ruling Power
 Stretch’d forth its arm at Nature’s natal hour,
 Composed this mighty whole with plastic skill,[122]
 Wielding the jarring elements at will?
 Or whether, sprung from Chaos’ mingling storm,                         5
 The mass of matter started into form?
 Or Chance o’er earth’s green lap spontaneous fling
 The fruits of autumn and the flowers of spring?
 Whether material substance unrefined,
 Owns the strong impulse of instructive mind,                          10
 Which to one centre points diverging lines,
 Confounds, refracts, invig’rates, and combines?[123]
 Whether the joys of earth, the hopes of heaven,
 By man to God, or God to man, were given?[124]
 If virtue leads to bliss, or vice to woe?                             15
 Who rules above, or who reside below?[125]
 Vain questions all—shall man presume to know?
 On all these points, and points obscure as these,
 Think they who will,—and think whate’er they please!

   Let us a plainer, steadier theme pursue—                            20
 Mark the grim savage scoop his light canoe;
 Mark the dark rook, on pendent branches hung,
 With anxious fondness feed her cawing young.—
 Mark the fell leopard through the desert prowl,
 Fish prey on fish, and fowl regale on fowl;—                          25
 How Lybian tigers’ chawdrons[126] love assails,
 And warms, ’midst seas of ice, the melting whales;—[127]
 Cools the crimpt cod, fierce pangs to perch imparts,
 Shrinks shrivell’d shrimps, but opens oysters’ hearts;—[128]
 Then say, how all these things together tend                          30
 To one great truth, prime object, and good end?

   First—to each living thing, whate’er its kind,
 Some lot, some part, some station is assign’d.
 The feather’d race with pinions skim the _air_—[129]
 Not so the mackerel, and still less the bear;[130]                    35
 _This_ roams the _wood_, carniv’rous for his prey![131]
 _That_ with soft roe pursues his _watery_ way:[132]
 _This_, slain by hunters, yields his shaggy hide;[133]
 _That_, caught by fishers, is on _Sundays_ cried.—[134]

   But each contented with his humble sphere,                          40
 Moves unambitious through the circling year;
 Nor e’er forgets the fortune of his race,
 Nor pines to quit, or strives to change his place.
 Ah! who has seen the mailed lobster rise,
 Clap her broad wings, and soaring claim the skies?[135]               45
 When did the owl, descending from her bow’r,
 Crop, ’midst the fleecy flocks, the tender flow’r;
 Or the young heifer plunge, with pliant limb,
 In the salt wave,[136] and fish-like strive to swim?

   The same with plants[137]—potatoes ’tatoes breed—[138]              50
 Uncostly cabbage springs from cabbage seed;
 Lettuce to lettuce, leeks to leeks succeed;
 Nor e’er did cooling cucumbers presume
 To flow’r like myrtle, or like violets bloom.
 —Man, only,—rash, refined, presumptuous man,                          55
 Starts from his rank, and mars creation’s plan.
 Born the free heir of nature’s wide domain,
 To art’s strict limits bounds his narrow’d reign;
 Resigns his native rights for meaner things,
 For faith and fetters—laws, and priests, and kings.                   60

                          (_To be continued._)

We are sorry to be obliged to break off here. The remainder of this
admirable and instructive Poem is in the press, and will be continued
the first opportunity.

                                                             THE EDITOR.

  [The following is the commencement of Knight’s poem:—

              Whether primordial motion sprang to life
              From the wild war of elemental strife;
              In central chains the mass inert confined,
              And sublimated matter into mind:
              Or, whether one great all-pervading soul
              Moves in each part and animates the whole;
              Unnumbered worlds to one great centre draws,
              And governs all by pre-established laws:
              Whether in fates’ eternal fetters bound,
              Mechanic nature goes her endless round:
              Or ever varying, acts but to fulfil
              The sovereign mandates of Almighty will;—
              Let learned folly seek, or foolish pride,
              Rash in presumptuous ignorance, decide.—ED.]

  [Eminent as Richard Payne Knight was as a classical scholar and
  archæologist, his poetical powers were not highly appreciated by his
  literary contemporaries, as is amusingly shown in a letter from
  Horace Walpole, dated 22nd March, 1796, to the Rev. W. Mason, in
  which he declares how much he is “offended and disgusted by Mr.
  Knight’s new, insolent, and self-conceited poem”. He winds up thus:
  “I send you a parody on two lines of Mr. Knight, which will show you
  that his poem is seen in its true light by a young man of allowed
  parts, MR. CANNING, whom I never saw. The originals are the two
  first lines at the top of page 5:”—

          “Some fainter irritations seem to feel,
          Which o’er its languid fibres gently steal”.—KNIGHT.

   “Cools the crimp’d cod, to pond-perch pangs imparts,
   Thrills the shelled shrimps, and opens oysters’ hearts.”—CANNING.

  It is evident from this that Canning had thought of parodying the
  poem immediately after its publication, and that Walpole had seen a
  specimen in manuscript, nearly two years before its publication in
  the _Anti-Jacobin_, in which the two lines (28, 29) are thus
  altered:—

        “Cools the crimpt cod, fierce pangs to perch imparts,
        Shrinks shrivell’d shrimps, but opens oysters’ hearts”.

  By an oversight, Peter Cunningham, in his edition of Walpole’s
  Letters, attributes the latter’s attack to a previous production of
  Knight’s, published in 1794, entitled _The Landscape: a didactic
  Poem in three Books_, a work which had excited Walpole’s high
  indignation by expressing opinions opposed to his own.—ED.]




                                No. XVI.


                                                        Feb. 26, 1798.

The specimen of the poem on the “Progress of Man,” with which we
favoured our Readers in our last Number, has occasioned a variety of
letters, which we confess have not a little surprised us, from the
unfounded, and even contradictory charges they contain. In one, we are
accused of Malevolence, in bringing back to notice a work that had been
quietly consigned to oblivion;—in another, of Plagiarism, in copying its
most beautiful passages;—in a third, of Vanity, in striving to imitate
what was in itself inimitable, &c., &c. But why this alarm? has the
author of the “_Progress of Civil Society_” an exclusive patent for
fabricating _Didactic_ poems? or can we not write against Order and
Government without incurring the guilt of Imitation? We trust we were
not so ignorant of the nature of a didactic poem (so called from
_didaskein_, to teach, and _poema_, a poem; because it teaches nothing,
and is not poetical) even before the _“Progress of Civil Society”_
appeared, but that we were capable of such an undertaking.

We shall only say further, that we do not intend to proceed regularly
with our Poem; but having the remaining thirty-nine Cantos by us, shall
content ourselves with giving, from time to time, such extracts as may
happen to suit our purpose.

The following passage, which, as the reader will see by turning to the
Contents prefixed to the head of the Poem, is part of the First Canto,
contains so happy a deduction of MAN’S present state of Depravity, from
the first slips and failings of his Original State, and inculcates so
forcibly the mischievous consequences of _social_ or _civilized_, as
opposed to _natural_ society, that no dread of imputed imitation can
prevent us from giving it to our readers.


                            PROGRESS OF MAN.

 Lo! the rude savage, free from civil strife,[139]
 Keeps the smooth tenour of his guiltless life;
 Restrain’d by none, save Nature’s lenient laws,
 Quaffs the clear stream, and feeds on hips and haws.
 Light to his daily sports behold him rise!                            65
 The bloodless banquet health and strength supplies.[140]
 Bloodless not long—one morn he haps to stray[141]
 Through the lone wood—and close beside the way
 Sees the gaunt tiger tear his trembling prey;
 Beneath whose gory fangs a leveret bleeds,                            70
 Or pig—such pig as fertile China breeds.[142]

 Struck with the sight, the wondering savage stands,
 Rolls his broad eyes, and clasps his lifted hands!
 Then restless roams—and loaths his wonted food;
 Shuns the salubrious stream, and thirsts for blood.                   75

 By thought matured, and quicken’d by desire,[143]
 New arts, new arms, his wayward wants require.
 From the tough yew a slender branch he tears,
 With self-taught skill the twisted grass[144] prepares;
 Th’ unfashioned bow, with labouring efforts bends                     80
 In circling form, and joins th’ unwilling ends.
 Next some tall reed he seeks—with sharp-edg’d stone
 Shapes the fell dart, and points with whiten’d bone.[145]

   Then forth he fares. Around in careless play,
 Kids, pigs, and lambkins unsuspecting stray;                          85
 With grim delight he views the sportive band,
 Intent on blood, and lifts his murderous hand.
 Twangs the bent bow—resounds the fateful dart,
 Swift-wing’d, and trembles in a porker’s heart.

   Ah, hapless porker! what can now avail[146] 90
 Thy back’s stiff bristles, or thy curly tail?
 Ah! what avail those eyes so small and round,
 Long pendent ears, and snout that loves the ground?[147]

   Not unreveng’d thou diest!—in after times[148]
 From thy spilt blood shall spring unnumber’d crimes.                  95
 Soon shall the slaught’rous arms that wrought thy woe,
 Improved by malice, deal a deadlier blow;[149]
 When _social_ man shall pant for nobler game,
 And ’gainst his fellow man the vengeful weapon aim.

   As love, as gold, as jealousy inspires,[150]                       100
 As wrathful hate, or wild ambition fires,
 Urged by the statesman’s craft, the tyrant’s rage,
 Embattled nations endless wars shall wage,
 Vast seas of blood the ravaged field shall stain,
 And millions perish—that a _king_ may reign!                  105

   For blood once shed, new wants and wishes rise;[151]
 Each rising want invention quick supplies.
 To roast his victuals is man’s next desire,
 So two dry sticks he rubs, and lights a fire.
 Hail fire, &c. &c.

[Illustration]




                               No. XVII.


                                                          March 5, 1798.

We are obliged to a learned correspondent for the following ingenious
imitation of BION.—We will not shock the eyes of our fair readers with
the original Greek, but the following _Argument_ will give them some
idea of the nature of the Poem here imitated.


                               ARGUMENT.

  Venus is represented as bringing to the Poet, while sleeping, her son
    Cupid, with a request that he would teach him Pastoral Poetry—Bion
    complies, and endeavours to teach him the rise and progress of that
    art:—Cupid laughs at his instructions, and in his turn teaches his
    master the Loves of Men and Gods, the Wiles of his Mother,
    &c.—“Pleased with his lessons,” says BION, “I forgot what I lately
    taught Cupid and recollect in its stead only what Cupid taught me.”


                          IMITATION, &c.[152]

                      WRITTEN AT ST. ANNE’S HILL.

            Scarce had sleep my eyes o’erspread,
            Ere Alecto sought my bed;
            In her left hand a torch she shook,
            And in her right led JOHN HORNE TOOKE.
            O thou! who well deserv’st the bays,
            Teach him, she cried, Sedition’s lays—
            She said, and left us; I, poor fool,
            Began the wily priest to school;
            Taught him how MOIRA sung of lights,
            Blown out by troops o’ stormy nights;[153]
            How ERSKINE, borne on rapture’s wings,
            At clubs and taverns sweetly sings
            Of _self_—while yawning Whigs attend—
            _Self_ first, last, midst, and without end;[154]
            How BEDFORD piped, ill-fated Bard;[155]
            Half-drown’d, in empty Palace-yard;
            How LANSDOWNE, nature’s simple child,
            At BOWOOD trills his wood-notes wild—[156]
            How these and more (a phrenzied choir)
            Sweep with bold hand Confusion’s lyre,
            Till madding crowds around them storm
            “FOR ONE GRAND RADICAL REFORM!”

              TOOKE stood silent for a while,
            Listening with sarcastic smile;
            Then in verse of calmest flow,
            Sung of treasons, deep and low,
            Of rapine, prisons, scaffolds, blood,
            Of war against the great and good;
            Of Venice, and of Genoa’s doom,
            And fall of unoffending Rome;
            Of monarchs from their station hurl’d,
            And one waste desolated world.

              Charm’d by the magic of his tongue,
            I lost the strains I lately sung,
            While those he taught, remain impress’d
            For ever on my faithful breast.
                                                  DORUS.


                [BION. IDYLLIUM III. THE TEACHER TAUGHT.

                         TRANSLATED BY FAWKES.

           As late I slumbering lay, before my sight
           Bright VENUS rose in visions of the night:
           She led young Cupid; as in thought profound
           His modest eyes were fixed upon the ground;
           And thus she spoke: “To thee, dear swain, I bring
           My little son; instruct the boy to sing”.
           No more she said; but vanished into air,
           And left the wily pupil to my care:
           I,—(sure I was an idiot for my pains),
           Began to teach him old bucolic strains;
           How PAN the pipe, how PALLAS formed the flute,
           PHŒBUS the lyre, and MERCURY the lute:
           LOVE, to my lessons quite regardless grown,
           Sang lighter lays, and sonnets of his own,
           Th’ amours of men below, and gods above,
           And all the triumphs of the queen of love.
           I, sure the simplest of all shepherd swains,
           Full soon forgot my old bucolic strains;
           The lighter lays of LOVE my fancy caught,
           And I remembered all that Cupid taught.—ED.]

                  *       *       *       *       *

Something like the same idea seems to have dictated the following
Stanzas, which appear to be a loose imitation of the beautiful Dialogue
of Horace and Lydia, and for which, though confessedly in a lower style
of poetry, and conceived rather in the _slang_, or _Brentford_ dialect,
than in the classical Doric of the foregoing Poem, we have many thanks
to return to an ingenious academical correspondent.


                        THE NEW COALITION.[157]

                                   I.

         FOX.—When erst I coalesced with North
         And brought my _Indian bantling_ forth[158]
         In place—I smiled at faction’s storm,
         Nor dreamt of _radical reform_.

                                   II.

         TOOKE.—While yet no patriot project pushing,
         Content I thump’d old Brentford’s cushion,
         I pass’d my life so free and gaily;
         Not dreaming of that d——d _Old Bailey_.

                                   III.

         FOX.—Well! now my favourite preacher’s _Nickle_,[159]
         He keeps for PITT a rod in pickle;
         His gestures fright th’ astonish’d gazers,
         His sarcasms cut like Packwood’s razors.

                                   IV.

         TOOKE.—_Thelwall’s_[160] my man for state alarm;
         I love the rebels of _Chalk Farm_;
         Rogues that no statutes can subdue,
         Who’d bring the French, and head them too.

                                   V.

         FOX.—A whisper in your ear, JOHN HORNE,[161]
         For _one great end_ we both were born,
         Alike we roar, and rant, and bellow—
         Give us your hand, my honest fellow.

                                   VI.

         TOOKE.—Charles, for a shuffler long I’ve known thee:
         But come—for once, I’ll not disown thee;
         And since with patriot zeal thou burnest,
         With thee I’ll live—or hang _in earnest_.


                      [HORACE. BOOK III., ODE IX.

     HORACE.—Whilst I was fond, and you were kind,
               Nor any dearer youth, reclined
               On your soft bosom, sought to rest,
               Not Persia’s monarch was so blest.

     LYDIA.—Whilst you adored no other face,
               Nor loved me in the second place,
               Your Lydia’s celebrated fame
               Outshone the Roman Ilia’s name.

     HORACE.—Me _Chloe_ now possesses whole;
               Her voice and lyre command my soul:
               Nor would I death itself decline,
               Could I redeem her life with mine.

     LYDIA.—For me young lovely _Calaïs_ burns,
               And warmth for warmth my heart returns.
               Twice would I life for him resign,
               Could _his_ be ransomed thus with _mine_.

     HORACE.—What if the God, whose bands we broke,
               Again should tame us to the yoke!
               What if my _Chloe_ cease to reign,
               And _Lydia_ her lost power regain!

     LYDIA.—Though Phosphor be less fair than _he_;
               _Thou_ wilder than the raging sea;
               Lighter than down; yet gladly I
               With _thee_ would live, with _thee_ would die.—ED.]

                  *       *       *       *       *

  [Another version of this Ode published in the _Anti-Jacobin Review_,
  vol. 1, pp. 597–8 (the successor to the _Anti-Jacobin_), may perhaps
  not be considered out of place here. It was written by the Rev. C.
  E. Stewart, a constant contributor to the former journal.


                    THE HONEY-MOON OF FOX AND TOOKE.

                       _Donec gratus eram tibi._

           FOX.—Since Fox of his Tooke is possest,
                     No sorrows my bosom can harass;
                   What Director was ever so blest?
                     I’m greater, far greater than Barras.

           TOOKE.—If Fox to his consort is true,
                     And this blest Coalition sincere,
                   I’ll engage as a private with you,
                     Nor envy thy fame, Robespierre.

           FOX.—You once were the worst of my foes,
                     E’en Pitt I detested not more,
                   When you dar’d my Election oppose,
                     And eternal antipathy swore.

           TOOKE.—Not to you was my hatred confin’d,
                     Your father I styled “The Defaulter,”
                   Drew a portrait of both, and consign’d
                     Both father and son to the halter.

           FOX.—Drive these hated reflections away;
                     For you I would gladly resign.
                   Jockey Norfolk, big Bedford, and Grey;
                     But they answer your purpose and mine.

           TOOKE.—Whate’er you attempt or intend,
                     I am yours, and will bring at your call,
                   Binns, Gurney, Scott, Ferguson, Frend,
                     Corresponding Society—all.

           BOTH.—Thus reconcil’d, fond, and delighted,
                     Together we’ll ride in the storm,
                   While Jacobin Clubs, all united,
                     Make a radical, perfect Reform.—ED.]

[Illustration]




                               No. XVIII.


                                                         March 12, 1798.

We are indebted for the following exquisite imitation of one of the most
beautiful Odes of Horace, to an unknown hand. All that we can say is,
that it came to us in a blank cover sealed with a ducal coronet, and
that it appears evidently to be the production of a mind not more
classical than convivial.


                                  ODE.

             Whither, O Bacchus, in thy train,[162]
             Dost thou transport thy votary’s brain
               With sudden inspiration?
             Where dost thou bid me quaff my wine,
             And toast new measures to combine
               The _Great_ and _Little Nation_?

             Say, in what tavern I shall raise[163]
             My mighty voice in Charley’s praise,
               And dream of future glories,
             When FOX, with salutary sway
             (Terror the Order of the Day),
               Shall reign o’er King and Tories?

             My mighty feelings must have way![164]
             A toast I’ll give—a thing I’ll say,
               As yet unsaid by any,—
             “OUR SOV’REIGN LORD!”—let those who doubt
             My honest meaning, hear me out—
               “HIS MAJESTY—THE MANY!”

             Plain folks may be surprised, and stare,[165]
             As much surprised as BOB ADAIR
               At Russia’s wooden houses;
             And Russian snows, that lie so thick;[166]
             And Russian boors[167] that daily kick,
               With barbarous foot, their spouses.

             What joy, when drunk, at midnight’s hour,[168]
             To stroll through Covent Garden’s bow’r,
               Its various charms exploring;
             And, ’midst its shrubs and vacant stalls,
             And proud Piazza’s crumbling walls,
               Hear trulls and watchmen snoring!

             Parent of wine, and gin, and beer,[169]
             The nymphs of Billingsgate you cheer;
               Naiads robust and hearty;
             As Brookes’s chairmen fit to wield
             Their stout oak bludgeons in the field,
               To aid our virtuous party.

             Mortals! no common voice you hear;[170]
             _Militia Colonel, Premier Peer,
               Lieutenant of a County_!
             I speak high things! yet, god of wine,
             For thee, I fear not to resign
               These gifts of royal bounty.


                [HORACE. BOOK III., ODE XXV. TO BACCHUS.

                         TRANSLATED BY FRANCIS.

          Whither in sacred ecstasy,
          BACCHUS, when full of thy divinity,
          Dost thou transport me? To what glades?
          What gloomy caverns, unfrequented shades?
          In what recesses shall I raise
          My voice to sacred Cæsar’s deathless praise,
          Amid the stars to bid him shine,
          Ranked in the councils of the powers divine?
          Some bolder song shall wake the lyre,
          And sounds unknown its trembling strings inspire.
          Thus o’er the steepy mountains’ height,
          Starting from sleep, thy priestess takes her flight:
          Amazed, behold the Thracian snows,
          With languid streams where icy Heber flows
          Or Rhodopé’s high-towering head,
          Where frantic choirs barbarian measures tread.
          O’er pathless rocks, through lonely groves,
          With what delight my raptured spirit roves!
          O thou, who rul’st the Naiad’s breast;
          By whom the Bacchanalian maids, possessed
          With sacred rage inspired by thee,
          Tear from the bursting glebe th’ uprooted tree;
          Nothing or low, or mean, I sing,
          No mortal sound shall shake the swelling string.
          The venturous theme my soul alarms;
          But warmed by thee the thought of danger charms.
          When vine-crowned Bacchus leads the way,
          What can his daring votaries dismay?—ED.]

  [The preceding Ode, written in the character of Charles Howard,
  eleventh DUKE OF NORFOLK, refers to the famous toast, “Our
  Sovereign’s health—THE MAJESTY OF THE PEOPLE,” proposed by his Grace
  at a Banquet at the “Crown and Anchor Tavern,” Strand, on the 24th
  January, 1798, given to celebrate the birth-day of C. J. FOX. For
  this toast and other sentiments promulgated at the meeting, his
  Grace a few days after received notice of his dismissal from the
  Lord-Lieutenancy of the West Riding of Yorkshire and his Colonelcy
  in the Militia, and on the 6th of February Earl Fitzwilliam was
  gazetted to the former office, vice the Duke of Norfolk, _resigned_.
  But sixteen years earlier, this _Toast_ was not considered
  seditious; for in the _General Advertiser_ of the 13th of April,
  1782, then edited by Perry (afterwards the eminent proprietor of the
  _Morning Chronicle_), we find an account of a dinner of the electors
  of Westminster held the preceding day at the Shakespeare Tavern,
  _Earl Fitzwilliam_ in the chair. The first toast given by his
  Lordship was, “THE MAJESTY OF THE PEOPLE”. It was drunk by the Earl
  of Effingham, the Earl of Surrey (afterwards Duke of Norfolk, and
  the subject of the present remarks), Mr. Secretary Fox, Burke,
  Windham, Dean Jebb, J. Churchill, Brand Hollis, Dr. Brocklesby, &c.
  Thus the identical toast was proposed and drunk by the Earl of
  Fitzwilliam, to whom the Lord-Lieutenancy now taken from the Duke of
  Norfolk was given. It is not a little remarkable that Lord
  Fitzwilliam himself was dismissed by his new Tory allies, Oct. 23,
  1819, from the same Lord-Lieutenancy of the West Riding of
  Yorkshire, having signed the requisition for the York meeting, at
  which resolutions were passed condemning the measures of Ministers
  (Lords Liverpool, Eldon, Bathurst, Castlereagh, Palmerston, &c.),
  respecting the Manchester Reform Meeting, called by Henry Hunt, on
  16th August, at which occurred what is known as the “Peterloo
  Massacre”.—ED.]


       [“THE MAJESTY OF THE PEOPLE,” AS GIVEN ON FOX’S BIRTH-DAY.

  The company was a very large one, but the estimated number of 2000
  diners is surely an error. The Duke of Norfolk presided, supported
  by the Duke of Bedford, the Earls of Lauderdale and Oxford,
  Sheridan, Tierney, Erskine, Capt. Morris (who produced three new
  songs for the occasion), and Horne Tooke; the latter became
  reconciled to Fox by the explanation the latter gave of his
  sentiments on parliamentary reform. On the cloth being removed, he
  rose and said, “We are met in a moment of most serious difficulty to
  celebrate the birth of a man dear to the friend of freedom. I shall
  only recall to your memory that not twenty years ago, the
  illustrious GEORGE WASHINGTON had not more than two thousand men to
  rally round him when his country was attacked. America is now free.
  This day full two thousand men are assembled in this place. I leave
  the application to you. I propose to you the health of CHARLES JAMES
  FOX.”

  In the course of the evening the Duke’s health was drunk with great
  enthusiasm. He returned thanks, and concluded his speech with these
  words, “Give me leave to call on you to drink, Our Sovereign’s
  health,

                      “THE MAJESTY OF THE PEOPLE”.

  After this toast had been drunk and warmly applauded, the Duke gave
  successively, “The Rights of the People,” “Constitutional Redress of
  the Wrongs of the People,” “A speedy and effectual Reform in the
  Representation of the People in Parliament,” “The genuine Principles
  of the British Constitution,” “The People of Ireland, and may they
  be speedily restored to the Blessings of Law and Liberty”.

  On the 6th of February, the next monthly meeting of the _Whig Club_
  was held at the London Tavern, Ludgate Hill. The DUKE OF NORFOLK
  presided. He gave as a toast, “The Man who dares be honest in the
  worst of times—

                          “CHARLES JAMES FOX”.

  FOX returned thanks, and then toasted

                    “THE SOVEREIGNTY OF THE PEOPLE”.

  He subsequently proposed the health of the Duke of Norfolk in a most
  powerful speech. He adverted to the dismissal of the DUKE. “No
  reason had been officially assigned; it was, however, generally
  understood that it had arisen from the eulogium pronounced on
  GENERAL WASHINGTON. Was it to be wondered at, that the noble Duke,
  who had uniformly opposed the American war, should have done so?
  What Englishman, what man of any country, whose heart was animated
  with a love of freedom, did not venerate the name of that
  illustrious patriot? It seems also “a toast” has given offence—the
  Majesty of the People. I do not know upon what times we are fallen,
  but the sovereignty of the people of Great Britain is surely a thing
  not new to the language, to the feelings, nor the hearts of
  Englishmen. It is the basis of the whole system of our Government.
  It is an opinion, which if it be not true, King William was an
  usurper. By what right did the glorious and immortal King William
  the Third, whose portrait is placed on our chair, come to the throne
  of these realms, if not by that of the sovereignty of the people?...
  The King holds his title by an Act of Parliament. Who called that
  Parliament? King William the Third. By what right did he obtain it?
  By a Convention representing the sovereignty of the people. The
  Convention of Representatives in fact did the thing. It is whimsical
  enough to deprive the noble Duke of his appointments for an offence
  which, if he had not committed during the reigns of George I. and
  George II., would have subjected him to the charge of being a
  Jacobite, and an adherent of the exiled family.... Of the persons of
  his Majesty’s Ministers I will not say a word. There are several of
  them to whom I may fairly say this sentiment is not new. One member
  of the Cabinet (the Duke of Portland) is still a member of this
  club; another (Mr. Windham) was a member; and a third (Earl Spencer)
  long gloried in holding the same tenets. How often with the two
  first have we drunk the sentiment in this room! What did they mean
  when they drank the Sovereignty of the People? What, but that they
  recognised by this approved and customary method a truth which
  belongs to all people in reality, but is the avowed basis of the
  Government of England, that the people of every country are its
  legitimate Sovereign, and that all authority is delegated from and
  for them? I should be ashamed, on account of my old respect for
  those persons, if they did not honestly avow this to be their sense
  of the sentiment.”

  While adverting, on this occasion, to the dismissal of the DUKE OF
  NORFOLK from his Lord-Lieutenancy and Colonelcy of Militia, FOX
  remarked, “I have nothing the Ministers can take from me. I am still
  indeed a Privy Councillor, at least I know nothing to the contrary;
  and if this sentiment entitles the Noble Duke to this animadversion,
  I shall certainly feel that I am equally entitled to this mark of
  his Majesty’s displeasure.” This anticipation was verified shortly
  afterwards.

  On the 1st of May following, at the Freemasons’ Tavern, another
  dinner of the _Whig Club_ took place. FOX was in the chair, and
  gave, as the first toast—

           “THE SOVEREIGNTY OF THE PEOPLE OF GREAT BRITAIN”.

  The Duke of Norfolk proposed “The Health of the Man who dares be
  Honest in the worst of Times—

                          “CHARLES JAMES FOX”.

  FOX responded in a most impressive speech. He said: “On any other
  occasion, he should have contented himself with returning thanks,
  but in the very peculiar embarrassments in which the country was now
  plunged, he thought it necessary to say a few words in the only
  place in which he thought it might be useful for him to deliver his
  sentiments. The circumstances and events of public affairs of late
  had induced him and many of his friends to abstain from their usual
  assiduous attendance in Parliament. Their exertions for the
  preservation of the Constitution had been of no avail; two years ago
  they had seen the repeal of the Bill of Rights carried by a
  triumphant majority; they had seen the functions of the
  Constitutional Law suspended, on alarm created by the Ministers
  themselves; and however well-founded the alarm might now be, he
  scorned the idea that it was necessary for him to attend in his
  place in the House of Commons, for the purpose only of vindicating
  himself from the vulgar calumny that he was not an enemy to a
  foreign invasion. It would be an insult on his whole life if such a
  declaration could be expected from him. He believed there was not a
  voice in the assembly he addressed which was not in unison with his
  own—namely, that every man who heard him was both ready and willing
  to stand forth in defence of his country, with the spirit that
  belongs to Englishmen. He found no fault with those who thought it
  necessary to make these professions elsewhere. Thus much only would
  he say in this place for himself. _The present Government of the
  country, he had no hesitation in saying, was a Government of
  Tyranny. They had adopted the principles of Robespierre, and their
  object was to establish tyranny in England._ Look at the situation
  of the Sister Kingdom; our own will soon be the same. He had no
  remedy to recommend but that the friends of freedom should be united
  and firm, and wait for better times. Tyranny was now the order of
  the day in every country in Europe. Notwithstanding the arbitrary
  proceedings of our own Ministers, he was persuaded the unanimous
  feeling of the country, the universal determination of every man in
  it was to be ready to take the field against a foreign foe; and,
  indeed, they had a powerful motive to do so, for if they were
  united, they had a better chance to get rid of the tyranny of their
  own Ministers than they could possibly have by the success of a
  foreign invasion. Even in his present retirement he should be ready
  to come forward, in every constitutional effort, to regain our lost
  liberties; and he should be in the foremost of the ranks to repel
  the invasion of a daring enemy.”

  This speech led to a most important consequence—the erasing from the
  Privy Council Book the name of one of the most illustrious statesmen
  which had ever adorned it. FOX’S name was struck out by the King on
  the 9th of May.

  On the 6th of June, after the dinner at the _Whig Club_, the DUKE OF
  BEDFORD proposed “THE HEALTH OF CHARLES FOX,” and remarked in severe
  terms on Ministers having caused the King to strike his name out of
  the list of the Privy Council. FOX said: “It would be most unfit for
  him to say a word respecting the Noble Duke’s allusion to a
  circumstance personal to himself. Would to God the time of the
  Ministers had been always employed in such _frivolous fooleries_ as
  settling who should be _Honourable_ and who _Right Honourable_, and
  deliberating on the titles most befitting their friends and
  supporters.” FOX, with some of his supporters, seceded from
  Parliament in 1797, and returned to the House of Commons in 1802 to
  defend the Peace of Amiens, and he was persuaded to continue his
  parliamentary attendance by the urgent request of friends, with
  whose wishes he felt himself bound to comply.—ED.]




                                No. XIX.


                                                       March 19, 1798.

For the authenticity of the enclosed Ballad we refer our readers to a
volume of MS. Poems discovered upon the removal of some papers, during
the late alterations which have taken place at the Tax-office, in
consequence of the Reports of the Finance Committee.

It has been communicated to our printer by an ingenious friend of his,
who occasionally acts for the Deputy Collector of the Parish of St.
Martin in the Fields; but without date, or any other mark, by which we
are enabled to guess at the particular subject of the composition.


                           CHEVY CHASE.[171]

              God prosper long our noble king,
                Our lives and safeties all:
              A woeful story late there did
                In Britain’s Isle befall.

              DUKE SMITHSON, of NORTHUMBERLAND,
                A vow to God did make,
              The choicest gifts in fair England,
                For him and his to take.

              “Stand fast, my merry men,” he cried,
                “By MOIRA’S Earl and me,
              And we will gain place, wealth and pow’r,
                As arm’d neutrality.

              “Excise and Customs, Church and Law,
                I’ve begg’d from _Master_ ROSE;
              The Garter too—but still _the Blues_
                I’ll have, or I’ll oppose.”

              “Now God be with him,” quoth the KING,
                “Sith ’twill no better be;
              I trust we have within our realm
                Five hundred good as he.”

              The DUKE then join’d with Charley FOX,
                A leader ware and tried,
              And ERSKINE, SHERIDAN, and GREY
                Fought stoutly by his side.

              Throughout the English Parliament,
                They dealt full many a wound;
              But in his king’s and country’s cause,
                PITT firmly stood his ground.

              And soon a law like arrow keen,
                Or spear, or curtal-axe,
              Struck poor DUKE SMITHSON to the heart,
                In shape of _Powder-tax_.[172]

              Sore leaning on his crutch, he cried,
                “Crop, crop, my merry men all;
              No guinea for your head I’ll pay,
                Though Church and State should fall.”

              Again the taxing-man appear’d—
                No deadlier foe could be;
              A schedule of a cloth-yard long,
                Within his hand bore he.

              “Yield thee, DUKE SMITHSON, and behold
                The assessment thou must pay;
              Dogs, horses, houses, coaches, clocks,
                And servants in array.”

              “Nay,” quoth the DUKE, “in thy black scroll
                Deductions I espye—
              For those who, poor, and mean, and low,
                With children burthen’d lie.

              “And though full sixty thousand pounds
                My vassals pay to me,
              From Cornwall to _Northumberland_,
                Through many a fair countée;

              “Yet England’s church, its king, its laws,
                Its cause, I value not,
              Compar’d with this, my constant text,
                _A penny sav’d, is got_.

              “No drop of princely _Percy’s_ blood
                Through these cold veins doth run;
              With _Hotspur’s_ castles, blazon, name,
                I still am _poor_ SMITHSON.

              “Let England’s youth unite in arms,
                And every liberal hand,
              With honest zeal, subscribe their mite,
                To save their native land:

              “I at _St. Martin’s_ Vestry Board,
                To swear shall be content,
              That I have children eight, and claim
                _Deductions ten per cent._”

              God bless us all from factious foes,
                And French fraternal kiss;
              And grant the king may never make
                Another _Duke_ like this.[173]

[Illustration]




                                No. XX.


                           ODE TO JACOBINISM.

                                                         March 26, 1798.

                               I.

         Daughter of Hell, insatiate power,
           Destroyer of the human race,
         Whose iron scourge and madd’ning hour
           Exalt the bad, the good debase;
         Thy mystic force, despotic sway,
         Courage and innocence dismay,
         And patriot monarchs vainly groan
     With pangs unfelt before, unpitied and alone!

                               II.

         When first to scourge the sons of earth,
           Thy sire his darling child design’d,
         Gallia receiv’d the monstrous birth—
           VOLTAIRE inform’d thy infant mind;
         Well-chosen nurse! his sophist lore
         He bade thee many a year explore!
         He mark’d thy progress, firm though slow,
     And statesmen, princes, leagued with their invet’rate foe.

                               III.

         Scared at thy frown terrific, fly
           The morals (antiquated brood);
         Domestic Virtue, social Joy,
           And Faith that has for ages stood:
         Swift they disperse, and with them go
         The friend sincere, the gen’rous foe.—
         Traitors to God and man avow’d,
     By thee now rais’d aloft, now crush’d beneath the crowd.

                               IV.

         Revenge, in blood-stain’d robe arrayed,
           Immersed in gloomy joy profound;
         Ingratitude, by guilt dismay’d,
           With anxious eye wild glancing round,
         Still on thy frantic steps attend:
         With Death, thy victim’s only friend,
         Injustice, to the truth severe,
     And Anguish, dropping still the life-consuming tear.

                               V.

         Oh swiftly on my country’s head,
           Destroyer, lay thy ruthless hand;
         Nor yet in Gallic terrors clad,
           Nor circled by the _Marseilles band_,
         (As by th’ initiate thou art seen),
         With thund’ring cannon, _guillotine_,
         With screaming Horror’s funeral cry,
     Fire, Rapine, sword, and chains, and ghastly Poverty.

                               VI.

         Thy sophist veil, dread goddess, wear,
           Falsehood insidiously impart;
         Thy philosophic train, be there,
           To taint the mind, corrupt the heart;
         The gen’rous virtues of our isle,
         Teach us to hate and to revile;
         Our glorious Charter’s faults to scan,
     Time-sanction’d truths despise, and preach THY RIGHTS OF MAN.
                                     AN ENGLISH JACOBIN.

  [The original poem, of which the above is an imitation, is
  subjoined:—


                           HYMN TO ADVERSITY.

                            BY THOMAS GRAY.

             Daughter of Jove, relentless power,
               Thou tamer of the human breast,
             Whose iron scourge, and torturing hour,
               The bad affright, afflict the best!
             Bound in thy adamantine chain,
             The proud are taught to taste of pain,
             And purple tyrants vainly groan,
         With pangs unfelt before, unpitied and alone.

             When first thy sire to send on earth
               Virtue, his darling child, designed,
             To thee he gave the heavenly birth,
               And bade thee form her infant mind,
             Stern, rugged nurse! thy rigid lore
             With patience many a year she bore:
             What sorrow was, thou bad’st her know,
         And from her own she learnt to melt at others’ woe.

             Scared at thy frown terrific, fly
               Self-pleasing Folly’s idle brood,
             Wild Laughter, Noise, and thoughtless Joy,
               And leave us leisure to be good.
             Light they disperse, and with them go
             The summer friend, the flattering foe;
             By vain prosperity received,
         To her they vow their truth, and are again believed.

             Wisdom, in sable garb arrayed,
               Immersed in rapturous thought profound,
             And Melancholy, silent maid,
               With leaden eye that loves the ground,
             Still on thy solemn steps attend:
             Warm Charity, the general friend,
             With Justice, to herself severe,
         And Pity, dropping soft the sadly-pleasing tear.

             O, gently on thy suppliant’s head,
               Dread goddess, lay thy chastening hand!
             Not in thy Gorgon terrors clad,
               Nor circled with the vengeful band
             (As by the impious thou art seen),
             With thundering voice, and threatening mien,
             With screaming Horror’s funeral cry,
         Despair, and fell Disease, and ghastly Poverty.

             Thy form benign, O goddess! wear,
               Thy milder influence impart,
             Thy philosophic train be there,
               To soften not to wound my heart.
             The generous spark extinct revive;
             Teach me to love and to forgive;
             Exact my own defects to scan,
         What others are, to feel, and know myself a man.—ED.]

[Illustration]




                                No. XXI.


                                                          April 2, 1798.

We promised in our Sixteenth Number, that though we should not proceed
regularly with the publication of the Didactic Poem, the PROGRESS OF
MAN,—a work which, indeed, both from its bulk, and from the erudite
nature of the subject, would hardly suit with the purposes of a Weekly
Paper,—we should, nevertheless, give from time to time such extracts
from it as we thought were likely to be useful to our readers, and as
were in any degree connected with the topics or events of the times.

The following extract is from the 23rd Canto of this admirable and
instructive Poem;—in which the author (whom, by a series of accidents,
which we have neither the space, nor indeed the liberty, to enumerate at
present, we have discovered to be MR. HIGGINS, of _St. Mary Axe_)
describes the vicious refinement of what is called civilized society, in
respect to marriage; contends with infinite spirit and philosophy
against the factitious sacredness and indissolubility of that
institution; and paints in glowing colours the happiness and utility (in
a moral as well as political view) of an arrangement of an opposite
sort, such as prevails in countries which are yet under the influence of
pure and unsophisticated nature.

In illustration of his principles upon this subject, the author alludes
to a popular production of the German Drama, the title of which is the
“REFORMED HOUSEKEEPER” [_The Stranger_], which he expresses a hope of
seeing transfused into the language of this country.


                          THE PROGRESS OF MAN.
                          CANTO TWENTY-THIRD.
                               CONTENTS.

  ON MARRIAGE.—Marriage being indissoluble the cause of
    its being so often unhappy.—Nature’s laws not consulted
    in this point.—Civilized nations mistaken.—OTAHEITE:
    Happiness of the natives thereof—visited by Captain
    Cook, in his Majesty’s Ship _Endeavour_—Character of
    Captain Cook.—Address to Circumnavigation.—Description
    of His Majesty’s Ship _Endeavour_—Mast, rigging, sea-sickness,
    prow, poop, mess-room, surgeon’s mate—History of one.—Episode
    concerning naval chirurgery.—Catching a Thunny Fish.—Arrival
    at Otaheite—cast anchor—land—Natives
    astonished.—Love—Liberty—Moral—Natural—Religious—Contrasted
    with European manners.—Strictness—License—Doctor’s
    Commons.—Dissolubility of MARRIAGE recommended—Illustrated by a game
    at Cards—Whist—Cribbage—Partners changed—Why not the same in
    Marriage?—Illustrated by a River.—Love free.—Priests, Kings.—German
    Drama.—KOTZEBUE’S “Housekeeper Reformed”.—Moral employments of
    Housekeeping described—Hottentots sit and stare at each other—Query,
    WHY?—Address to the Hottentots—History of the Cape of Good
    Hope.—Resumé of the Arguments against Marriage.—Conclusion.


                            PROGRESS OF MAN.
                                EXTRACT.

       Hail! beauteous lands[174] that crown the Southern Seas;
       Dear happy seats of Liberty and Ease!
       Hail! whose green coasts the peaceful ocean laves,
       Incessant washing with its watery waves!
       Delicious islands! to whose envied shore
       Thee, gallant COOK! the ship _Endeavour_[175] bore.

         There laughs the sky, there zephyr’s frolic train,
       And light-wing’d loves, and blameless pleasures reign:
       There, when two souls congenial ties unite,
       No hireling _Bonzes_ chant the mystic rite;
       Free every thought, each action unconfin’d,
       And light those fetters which no rivets bind.

         There in each grove, each sloping bank along,
       And flow’rs and shrubs and odorous herbs among,
       Each shepherd clasp’d, with undisguis’d delight,
       His yielding fair one,—in the Captain’s sight;
       Each yielding fair, as chance or fancy led,
       Preferr’d new lovers to her sylvan bed.[176]

         Learn hence, each nymph, whose free aspiring mind
       Europe’s cold laws,[177] and colder customs[178] bind—
       O! learn, what Nature’s genial laws decree—
       What Otaheite[179] is, let Britain be!

              ·       ·       ·       ·       ·

         Of WHIST or CRIBBAGE mark th’ amusing game—
       The partners _changing_, but the SPORT the _same_.
       Else would the gamester’s anxious ardour cool,
       Dull every deal, and stagnant every pool.
       —Yet must _one_[180] Man, with one unceasing Wife,
       Play the LONG RUBBER of connubial life.

         Yes! human laws, and laws esteem’d divine,
       The generous passion straiten and confine;
       And, as a stream, when art constrains its course,
       Pours its fierce torrent with augmented force,
       So, Passion[181] narrowed to one channel small,
       _Unlike_ the former, does not flow at all.
       —For Love _then_ only flaps his purple wings,
       When uncontroll’d by priestcraft or by kings.

         Such the strict rules, that, in these barbarous climes,
       Choke youth’s fair flow’rs, and feelings turn to crimes;
       And people every walk of polish’d life[182]
       With that two-headed monster, MAN and WIFE.

         Yet bright examples sometimes we observe,
       Which from the general practice seem to swerve;
       Such as presented to Germania’s[183] view,
       A KOTZEBUE’S bold emphatic pencil drew:
       Such as, translated in some future age,
       Shall add new glories to the British stage;
       —While the moved audience sit in dumb despair,
       “Like Hottentots,[184] _and at each other stare_”.

         With look sedate, and staid beyond her years,
       In matron weeds a _Housekeeper_ appears.
       The jingling keys her comely girdle deck—
       Her ’kerchief colour’d, and her apron _check_.
       Can that be Adelaide, that “soul of whim,”
       _Reform’d_ in practice, and in manner prim?
       —On household cares intent,[185] with many a sigh
       She turns the pancake, and she moulds the pie;
       Melts into sauces rich the savoury ham;
       From the crush’d berry strains the lucid jam;
       Bids brandied cherries,[186] by infusion slow,
       Imbibe new flavour, and their own forego,
       Sole cordial of her heart, sole solace of her woe!
       While, still responsive to each mournful moan,
       The saucepan simmers in a softer tone.

              ·       ·       ·       ·       ·

  [The following extracts will give some idea of PAYNE KNIGHT’S poem.

            Hail! happy States, that fresh in vigour rise
            From Europe’s wrecks beneath Atlantic skies!
            Long may ye feel the blessings ye bestow;
            Nor e’er your parents’ sickly symptoms know!
            But when that parent, crush’d beneath the weight
            Of debts and taxes, yields herself to fate;
            May you her hapless fugitives receive,
            Comfort their sorrows, and their wants relieve!
            For come it will—th’ inevitable day,
            When Britain must corruption’s forfeit pay,
            Beneath a despot’s, or a rabble’s sway.

  After a glowing description of the amours of a shepherd and
  shepherdess, he thus speaks of _Marriage_:—

        Bless’d days of youth, of liberty, and love!
        How short, alas! your transient pleasures prove!
        Just as we think the sweet delights our own,
        We strive to fix them, and we find them flown:—
        For fix’d by laws, and limited by rules,
        Affection stagnates and love’s fervour cools;
        Shrinks like the gather’d flower, which, when possess’d,
        Droops in the hand, or withers on the breast:
        Feels all its native bloom and fragrance fly,
        And death’s pale shadows close its purple dye.
          While mutual wishes form love’s only vows,
        By mutual interests nursed, the union grows;
        Respectful fear its rising power maintains,
        And both preserve, when each may break, its chains.
          But when in bands indissoluble join’d,
        Securely torpid sleeps the sated mind;
        No anxious hopes or fears arise, to move
        The flagging wings, or stir the fires of love:
        Benumb’d, the soul’s best energies repose,
        And life in dull unvaried torpor flows;
        Or only shakes off lethargy to teaze
        Whom once its only pleasure was to please.—ED.]

  In illustration of these peculiar doctrines of Love and Marriage,
  the authors of the present Parody introduced into the first twenty
  lines of the preceding “Extract,” the very free statements on these
  subjects which appear in Chapters 8, 12, 14, 16, 17, of the
  narrative of Cook’s First Voyage to the Pacific in the “Endeavour,”
  in 1768, derived, by the editor, Dr. John Hawkesworth, from the
  Diary of Mr. (afterwards Sir Joseph) Banks, who accompanied Captain
  Cook.—ED.]

  [LORD ERSKINE, after dinner, inveighed bitterly against Marriage;
  and smarting, I suppose, under the recollection of his own
  unsuccessful choice, concluded by saying that a wife was _a tin
  canister tied to a man’s tail_, which very much excited the
  indignation of Lady Ann Culling Smith, who was of the party. “Monk”
  Lewis took a sheet of paper, and wrote the following neat epigram on
  the subject, which he presented to Her Royal Highness [the Duchess
  of York]:—

  “Lord Erskine at marriage presuming to rail,
  Says, _a wife’s a tin canister tied to ones tail_;
  And the fair Lady Ann, while the subject he carries on,
  Feels hurt at his Lordship’s degrading comparison.
  But wherefore degrading? if taken aright,
  A tin canister’s useful, and polished, and bright,
  And if dirt its original purity hide,
  ’Tis the fault of the puppy to whom it is tied.”
                                  —_Journal of T. Raikes_, ii.
                                     56.—ED.]

  [RICHARD PAYNE KNIGHT, eminent as he was as a classical scholar and
  archæologist, was not successful as a poet or moralist, and this is
  shown in an amusing manner in a letter from Horace Walpole to the
  Rev. W. Mason, dated 22nd March, 1796, in which he declares how much
  he is offended and disgusted by Knight’s “_new_ insolent and
  self-conceited poem,” alluding to his _Progress of Civil
  Society_,—the former one being “_The Landscape_, a didactic poem in
  three books,” 4to, pub. 1794, of which mention has already been
  made.

  In 1816 he was examined before a Select Committee of the House of
  Commons on the proposed purchase by the Government of the Elgin
  Marbles; but his estimate of their value as works of the highest art
  was much below that of other artistic witnesses, such as Flaxman,
  Westmacott, Chantrey, B. West, and others. For these statements he
  was severely criticised in vol. 14 of the _Quarterly Review_, and in
  a squib, reprinted in the _New Whig Guide_ in 1819. He valued the
  collection at £25,000; Gavin Hamilton’s estimate was £60,800, and
  Lord Aberdeen’s £35,000; for which latter sum they were obtained by
  the Government. He bequeathed his collection of ancient Bronzes,
  Greek Coins, &c.—valued at £50,000—to the British Museum.

  He represented Ludlow till 1806. He was a supporter of FOX, upon
  whom he wrote a Monody. He was never married, and he was succeeded
  in his fine property, including Downton Castle, near Ludlow, &c., on
  his death in 1824, by his brother, Thomas Andrew Knight, one of the
  most scientific of horticulturists, and he in turn was succeeded by
  his grandson, Andrew Johnes Rouse Boughton, second son of the late
  Sir W. E. Rouse Boughton, Bart., who added by royal license in 1856
  the name of Knight to his patronymic.—ED.]

  [The drama (here nicknamed _The Reformed Housekeeper_), but entitled
  by the author “_Misanthropy and Repentance_,” was produced at Drury
  Lane Theatre, Sheridan being then lessee, as “_The Stranger_,” on
  the 24th March, 1798. The following was the cast:—_The Stranger_, J.
  P. Kemble; _Baron Steinfort_, John Palmer; _Francis_, R. Palmer;
  _Peter_, Suett; _Tobias_, J. Aikin; _Solomon_, Wewitzer; _Count
  Wintersen_, Barrymore; _Mrs. Haller_, Mrs. Siddons; _Countess
  Wintersen_, Mrs. Goodall; _Charlotte_, Miss Stuart. It was
  considered by competent authorities as one of Kemble’s finest
  efforts, and was performed on twenty-six successive nights. Some of
  our most eminent actors and actresses have essayed the principal
  parts. Miss O’Neill made her last appearance on the stage in the
  character of Mrs. Haller, 13th of July, 1818.

  The acting version purported to be altered from the German by Benj.
  Thompson (afterwards Count Rumford), but it is likely that all or
  most of the alterations came from the skilful hands of Sheridan,
  assisted by Kemble. The pathetic song introduced, “_I have a silent
  sorrow here_,” was written by the former. Two other versions of the
  drama appeared in the year 1798—one by A. Schinck, and the other by
  G. Papendick—but neither has been acted.

  Kotzebue tells us in his _Autobiography_ that this play of his was
  acted at the Imperial Palace of _The Hermitage_, St. Petersburg,
  under his superintendence while manager of the Imperial Company of
  German Comedians, and excited visible emotion in the Emperor Paul.
  He himself saw it acted at Tobolsk during his exile in Siberia. The
  vast and splendid palace of _The Hermitage_ is now given up to the
  Arts. It contains the enormous collection of Pictures accumulated by
  the Russian sovereigns (including the Houghton Gallery formed by Sir
  Robert Walpole), together with a Gallery of Sculpture, one of the
  finest assortments of Antique Gems in the world, a museum of Grecian
  and Etruscan Antiquities, and a library of rare Books and
  Manuscripts.

  An awful event took place during the performance of this play a
  short time after its production. John Palmer, an eminent comedian,
  while acting the principal character, at Liverpool, on the 2nd of
  August, 1798, expired on the stage. He had recently suffered severe
  domestic bereavements, which are supposed to have given a painful
  application to some passages in the third act in which he had to
  utter the words: “There is another and a better world”. In the first
  scene of the fourth act, his agitation increased; he fell into the
  arms of the performer of the part of Baron Steinfort, and died
  without a groan. A narrative of this shocking event, published
  immediately afterwards, by the same performer, disposes of the
  generally-received but more emotional tradition that Palmer’s
  earthly career was terminated while pronouncing the above words. He
  was in his fifty-seventh year.

  This is not the only instance of so impressive an end, for a similar
  death-stroke overtook Joseph Peterson, an excellent actor, in
  October, 1758, while representing _The Duke_ in _Measure for
  Measure_. In act 3, sc. 1, in reciting the words—

          “—Reason thus with life:
          If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing
          That none but fools would keep: a breath thou art—”

  he dropped into the arms of Moody, who personated _Claudio_, and
  never spoke more!—ED.]

  [“One other noted character we visited—the one who, according to
  William Taylor of Norwich, was the greatest of all. This was AUGUST
  VON KOTZEBUE, the very popular dramatist, whose singular fate it was
  to live at variance with the great poets of his country, while he
  was the idol of the mob. He was at one time (about this time (1801)
  and a little later) a favourite in all Europe. One of his plays,
  _The Stranger_, I have seen acted in German, English, Spanish,
  French, and, I believe, also Italian. He was the pensioner of
  Prussia, Austria, and Russia. The odium produced by this
  circumstance, and the imputation of being a spy, are assigned as the
  cause of his assassination by [C. L. Sand] a student of Jena, a few
  years after our visit [March 3, 1819]. He was living, like Goethe,
  in a large house and in style. I drank tea with him, and found him a
  lively little man, with small black eyes. He had the manners of a
  _petit-maître_.”—_Crabb Robinson’s Diary_ (1801), i. 115.—ED.]

[Illustration]




                               No. XXII.


                                                          April 9, 1798.


                   TO THE EDITOR OF THE ANTI-JACOBIN.

SIR,—I saw, with strong approbation, your specimen of ancient Sapphic
measure in English, which I think far surpasses all that Abraham
Fraunce, Richard Stanyhurst, or Sir Philip Sidney himself, have produced
in that style—I mean, of course, your sublime and beautiful
_Knife-Grinder_, of which it is not too high an encomium to say, that it
even rivals the efforts of the fine-eared democratic poet, Mr. Southey.
But you seem not to be aware, that we have a genuine Sapphic measure
belonging to our own language, of which I now send you a short specimen.


                              THE JACOBIN.

            I am a hearty Jacobin,
            Who own no God, and dread no sin,
            Ready to dash through thick and thin
                                        For freedom:

            And when the teachers of Chalk-Farm
            Gave Ministers so much alarm,
            And preach’d that kings did only harm,
                                        I fee’d ’em.

            By BEDFORD’S cut I’ve trimm’d my locks,
            And coal-black is my knowledge-box,
            Callous to all, except hard knocks
                                        Of thumpers;

            My eye a noble fierceness boasts,
            My voice as hollow as a ghost’s,
            My throat oft washed by factious toasts
                                        In bumpers.

            Whatever is in France, is right;
            Terror and blood are my delight;
            Parties with us do not excite
                                        Enough rage.

            Our boasted laws I hate and curse,
            Bad from the first, by age grown worse,
            I pant and sigh for univers-[187]
                                        al suffrage.

            WAKEFIELD[188] I love—adore HORNE TOOKE,
            With pride on JONES[189] and THELWALL[190] look,
            And hope that they, by hook or crook,
                                        Will prosper.

            But they deserve the worst of ills,
            And all th’ abuse of all our quills,
            Who form’d of strong and _gagging Bills_[191]
                                        A cross pair.

            Extinct since then each speaker’s fire,
            And silent ev’ry daring lyre,[192]
            Dum-founded they whom I would hire
                                        To lecture.

            Tied up, alas! is ev’ry tongue
            On which, conviction nightly hung,[193]
            And THELWALL looks, though yet but young,
                                        A spectre.[194]
                                                B. O. B.

[Illustration]




                               No. XXIII.


                                                         April 16, 1798.

We cannot better explain to our readers the design of the poem from
which the following extracts are taken, than by borrowing the
expressions of the author, Mr. HIGGINS, of _St. Mary Axe_, in the letter
which accompanied the manuscript.

We must premise, that we had found ourselves called upon to remonstrate
with Mr. H. on the freedom of some of the positions laid down in his
other didactic poem, the “Progress of Man”; and had in the course of our
remonstrance hinted something to the disadvantage of the _new
principles_ which are now afloat in the world, and which are, in our
opinion, working so much prejudice to the happiness of mankind. To this
Mr. H. takes occasion to reply—[195]

“What you call the _new principles_ are, in fact, nothing less than
_new_. They are the principles of primeval nature, the system of
original and unadulterated man.

“If you mean by my addiction to _new principles_ that the object which I
have in view in my larger work [meaning the ‘Progress of Man’] and in
the several other _concomitant_ and _subsidiary_ didactic poems which
are necessary to complete my plan, is to restore this first, and pure
simplicity; to rescue and to recover the interesting nakedness of human
nature, by ridding her of the cumbrous establishments which the folly,
and pride, and self-interest of the worst part of our species have
heaped upon her;—you are right. Such is my object. I do not disavow it.
Nor is it mine alone. There are abundance of abler hands at work upon
it. _Encyclopedias_, _Treatises_, _Novels_, _Magazines_, _Reviews_, and
_New Annual Registers_, have, as you are well aware, done their part
with activity and with effect. It remained to bring the _heavy_
artillery of a didactic poem to bear upon the same object.

“If I have selected your paper as the channel for conveying my labours
to the public, it was not because I was unaware of the hostility of your
principles to mine, of the bigotry of your attachment to ‘things as they
are,’ but because, I will fairly own, I found some sort of cover and
disguise necessary for securing the favourable reception of my
sentiments; the usual pretexts of humanity, and philanthropy, and fine
feeling, by which we have for some time obtained a passport to the
hearts and understandings of men, being now worn out or exploded. I
could not choose but smile at my success in the first instance, in
inducing _you_ to adopt my poem as your own.

“But you have called for an explanation of these principles of ours, and
you have a right to obtain it. Our first principle is, then—the reverse
of the trite and dull maxim of Pope—‘_Whatever is, is right_’. We
contend, that ‘_Whatever is, is wrong_’; that institutions, civil and
religious, that social order (as it is called in _your_ cant) and
regular government, and law, and I know not what other fantastic
inventions, are but so many cramps and fetters on the free agency of
man’s _natural intellect_ and _moral sensibility_; so many badges of his
degradation from the primal purity and excellence of his nature.

“Our second principle is, the ‘_eternal and absolute perfectibility of
man_’. We contend, that if, as is demonstrable, we have risen from a
level with the _cabbages of the field_ to our present comparatively
intelligent and dignified state of existence, by the mere exertion of
our own _energies_; we should, if these _energies_ were not repressed
and subdued by the operation of prejudice, and folly, by KING-CRAFT and
PRIEST-CRAFT, and the other evils incident to what is called civilized
society, continue to exert and expand ourselves in a proportion
infinitely greater than anything of which we yet have any notion:—in a
_ratio_ hardly capable of being calculated by any science of which we
are now masters: but which would in time raise man from his present
biped state to a rank more worthy of his endowments and aspirations; to
a rank in which he would be, as it were, _all_ MIND; would enjoy
unclouded perspicacity and perpetual vitality; feed on _oxygene_, and
never die, but _by his own consent_.

“But though the poem of the PROGRESS OF MAN alone would be sufficient to
teach this system and enforce these doctrines, the whole practical
effect of them cannot be expected to be produced, but by the gradual
perfecting of each of the sublimer sciences;—at the husk and shell of
which we are now nibbling and at the kernel whereof, in our present
state, we cannot hope to arrive. These several sciences will be the
subjects of the several _auxiliary_ DIDACTIC POEMS which I have now in
hand (one of which, entitled THE LOVES OF THE TRIANGLES, I herewith
transmit to you), and for the better arrangement and execution of which,
I beseech you to direct your bookseller to furnish me with a handsome
Chambers’s Dictionary; in order that I may be enabled to go through the
several articles alphabetically, beginning with _Abracadabra_, under the
first letter, and going down to _Zodiac_, which is to be found under the
last.

“I am persuaded that there is no science, however abstruse, nay, no
trade or manufacture, which may not be taught by a didactic poem. In
that before you, an attempt is made (not unsuccessfully, I hope) to
_enlist the imagination under the banners of Geometry_. _Botany_ I found
done to my hands. And though the more rigid and unbending stiffness of a
mathematical subject does not admit of the same appeals to the warmer
passions, which naturally arise out of the _sexual_ (or, as I have heard
several worthy gentlewomen of my acquaintance, who delight much in the
poem to which I allude, term it, by a slight misnomer no way difficult
to be accounted for—the _sensual_) system of Linnæus;—yet I trust that
the range and variety of illustration with which I have endeavoured to
ornament and enlighten the arid truths of Euclid and Algebra, will be
found to have smoothed the road of Demonstration, to have softened the
rugged features of Elementary Propositions, and, as it were, to have
strewed the _Asses’ Bridge_ with flowers.”

Such is the account which Mr. HIGGINS gives of his own undertaking, and
of the motives which have led him to it. For our parts, though we have
not the same sanguine persuasion of the _absolute perfectibility_ of our
species, and are in truth liable to the imputation of being more
satisfied with _things as they are_, than Mr. HIGGINS and his
associates;—yet, as we are, in at least the same proportion, less
convinced of the practical influence of didactic poems, we apprehend
little danger to our readers’ morals from laying before them Mr.
HIGGINS’S doctrine in its most fascinating shape. The poem abounds,
indeed, with beauties of the most striking kind,—various and vivid
imagery, bold and unsparing impersonifications; and similitudes and
illustrations brought from the most ordinary and the most extraordinary
occurrences of nature—from history and fable—appealing equally to the
heart and to the understanding, and calculated to make the subject of
which the poem professes to treat rather amusing than intelligible. We
shall be agreeably surprised to hear that it has assisted any young
student at either University in his mathematical studies.

We need hardly add, that the plates illustrative of this poem (the
engravings of which would have been too expensive for our publication)
are to be found in Euclid’s Elements, and other books of a similar
tendency.


                      LOVES OF THE TRIANGLES.[196]
                      ARGUMENT OF THE FIRST CANTO.

  Warning to the profane not to approach—Nymphs and Deities of
    Mathematical Mythology—Cyclois of a pensive turn—Pendulums, on the
    contrary, playful—and why?—Sentimental Union of the Naiads and
    Hydrostatics—Marriage of Euclid and Algebra.—Pulley the emblem of
    Mechanics—Optics of a licentious disposition—distinguished by her
    telescope and green spectacles.—Hyde-Park Gate on a Sunday
    morning—Cockneys—Coaches.—Didactic Poetry—Nonsensia—Love delights
    in Angles or Corners—Theory of Fluxions explained—Trochais, the
    Nymph of the Wheel—Smoke-Jack described—Personification of
    elementary or culinary Fire.—Little Jack Horner—Story of
    Cinderella—Rectangle, a Magician, educated by Plato and
    Menecmus—in love with Three Curves at the same time—served by
    Gins, or Genii—transforms himself into a Cone—the Three Curves
    requite his passion—Description of them—Parabola, Hyperbola, and
    Ellipsis—Asymptotes—Conjugated Axes.—Illustrations—Rewbell,
    Barras, and Lepaux, the three virtuous Directors—Macbeth and the
    Three Witches—the Three Fates—the Three Graces—King Lear and his
    Three Daughters—Derby Diligence—Catherine Wheel.—Catastrophe of
    Mr. Gingham, with his Wife and Three Daughters overturned in a
    One-horse Chaise—Dislocation and Contusion two kindred Fiends—Mail
    Coaches—Exhortation to Drivers to be careful—Genius of the
    Post-Office—Invention of Letters—Digamma—Double Letters—Remarkable
    Direction of one—Hippona the Goddess of Hack-horses—Parameter and
    Abscissa unite to overpower the Ordinate, who retreats down the
    Axis-Major, and forms himself in a Square—Isosceles, a Giant—Dr.
    Rhomboides—Fifth Proposition, or Asses’ Bridge—Bridge of
    Lodi—Buonaparte—Raft and Windmills—Exhortation to the recovery of
    our Freedom—Conclusion.


                      THE LOVES OF THE TRIANGLES.
                 A Mathematical and Philosophical Poem,
                        INSCRIBED TO DR. DARWIN.

                         CANTO I.

 Stay your rude steps, or e’er your feet invade[197]
 The Muses’ haunts, ye sons of War and Trade!
 Nor you, ye legion fiends of Church and Law,
 Pollute these pages with unhallow’d paw!
 Debased, corrupted, grovelling, and confined,                          5
 No DEFINITIONS[198] touch _your_ senseless mind;
 To _you_ no POSTULATES[199] prefer their claim,
 No ardent AXIOMS[200] _your_ dull souls inflame;
 For _you_ no TANGENTS[201] touch, no ANGLES meet,
 No CIRCLES[202] join in osculation[203] sweet!               10

   For _me_, ye CISSOIDS,[204] round my temples bend
 Your wandering curves; ye CONCHOIDS[205] extend;
 Let playful PENDULES quick vibration feel,
 While silent CYCLOIS rests upon her wheel;
 Let HYDROSTATICS,[206] simpering as they go,                 15
 Lead the light Naiads on fantastic toe;
 Let shrill ACOUSTICS[207] tune the tiny lyre;
 With EUCLID sage fair ALGEBRA[208] conspire;
 The obedient pulley[209] strong MECHANICS ply,
 And wanton OPTICS roll the melting eye!                      20

   I see the fair fantastic forms appear,
 The flaunting drapery, and the languid leer;
 Fair sylphish forms[210]—who, tall, erect, and slim,
 Dart the keen glance, and stretch the length of limb;
 To viewless harpings weave the meanless dance,                        25
 Wave the gay wreath, and titter as they prance.

   Such rich confusion[211] charms the ravish’d sight,
 When vernal Sabbaths to the Park invite.
 Mounts the thick dust, the coaches crowd along,
 Presses round Grosvenor Gate th’ impatient throng;                    30
 White-muslined misses and mammas are seen,
 Linked with gay cockneys, glittering o’er the green:
 The rising breeze unnumbered charms displays,
 And the tight ankle strikes th’ astonished gaze.

   But chief, thou Nurse of the Didactic Muse,                         35
 Divine NONSENSIA, all thy soul infuse;
 The charms of _Secants_ and of _Tangents_ tell,
 How Loves and Graces in an _Angle_[212] dwell;
 How slow progressive _Points_[213] protract the _Line_,
 As pendent spiders spin the filmy twine;                              40
 How lengthened _Lines_, impetuous sweeping round,
 Spread the wide _Plane_, and mark its circling bound;
 How _Planes_, their substance with their motion grown,
 Form the huge _Cube_, the _Cylinder_, the _Cone_.

   Lo! where the chimney’s sooty tube ascends,                         45
 The fair TROCHAIS[214] from the corner bends!
 Her coal-black eyes upturned, incessant mark
 The eddying smoke, quick flame, and volant spark;
 Mark with quick ken, where flashing in between,
 Her much-loved _Smoke-Jack_ glimmers thro’ the scene;          50
 Mark, how his various parts together tend,
 Point to one purpose,—in one object end;
 The spiral _grooves_ in smooth meanders flow,
 Drags the long _chain_, the polished axles glow,
 While slowly circumvolves the piece of beef below;                    55
 The conscious fire[215] with bickering radiance burns,
 Eyes the rich joint, and roasts it as it turns.

   So youthful Horner rolled the roguish eye,
 Cull’d the dark plum from out his Christmas pie,
 And cried, in self-applause—“How good a boy am I”.                    60

   So she, sad victim of domestic spite,
 Fair Cinderella, pass’d the wintry night,
 In the lone chimney’s darksome nook immured,
 Her form disfigured, and her charms obscured.
 Sudden her godmother appears in sight,                                65
 Lifts the charmed rod, and chants the mystic rite.
 The chanted rite the maid attentive hears,
 And feels new ear-rings deck her listening ears;[216]
 While ’midst her towering tresses, aptly set,
 Shines bright, with quivering glance, the smart aigrette;             70
 Brocaded silks the splendid dress complete,
 And the Glass Slipper grasps her fairy feet.
 Six cock-tailed mice[217] transport her to the ball,
 And liveried lizards wait upon her call.
 Alas! that partial Science should approve
 The sly RECTANGLE’S too licentious love!
 For _three_ bright nymphs, &c., &c.

                          (_To be continued._)

[Illustration]




                               No. XXIV.


                                                         April 23, 1798.


                      THE LOVES OF THE TRIANGLES.
                 A Mathematical and Philosophical Poem.

                             (_Continued._)

                       CANTO I.

 ALAS! that partial Science should approve                    75
 The sly RECTANGLE’S[218] too licentious love!
 For _three_ bright nymphs the wily wizard burns;—
 _Three_ bright-eyed nymphs requite his flame by turns.
 Strange force of magic skill! combined of yore
 With Plato’s science and Menecmus’ lore.[219]                         80
 In _Afric’s_ school, amid those sultry sands
 High on its base where Pompey’s pillar stands,
 This learnt the Seer; and learnt, alas! too well,
 Each scribbled talisman, and smoky spell:
 What muttered charms, what soul-subduing arts,                        85
 Fell Zatanai[220] to his sons imparts.

   GINS[221]—black and huge! who in Dom-Daniel’s[222] cave
 Writhe your scorched limbs on sulphur’s[223] azure wave;
 Or, shivering, yell amidst eternal snows,
 Where cloud-capp’d Caf[224] protrudes his granite toes;               90
 (Bound by his will, _Judæa’s_ fabled king,[225]
 Lord of _Aladdin’s_ lamp and mystic ring.)
 Gins! ye remember!—for your toil conveyed
 Whate’er of drugs the powerful charm could aid;
 Air, earth, and sea ye searched, and where below                      95
 Flame embryo lavas, young volcanoes[226] glow,—
 Gins! ye beheld appall’d th’ enchanter’s hand
 Wave in dark air th’ _Hypothenusal_ wand;
 Saw him the mystic _Circle_ trace, and wheel
 With head erect, and far-extended heel;[227]                         100
 Saw him, with speed that mocked the dazzled eye,
 Self-whirled, in quick gyrations eddying fly:
 Till done the potent spell—behold him grown
 Fair _Venus’_ emblem—the _Phœnician_ CONE.[228]

   Triumphs the Seer, and now secure observes                         105
 The kindling passions of the _rival_ CURVES.

   And first, the fair PARABOLA[229] behold,
 Her timid arms, with virgin blush, unfold!
 Though, on one _focus_ fixed, her eyes betray
 A heart that glows with love’s resistless sway;                      110
 Though, climbing oft, she strives with bolder grace
 Round his tall neck to clasp her fond embrace,
 Still ere she reach it, from his polished side
 Her trembling hands in devious _Tangents_ glide.

   Not thus HYPERBOLA;[230]—with subtlest art                115
 The blue-eyed wanton plays her changeful part;
 Quick as her _conjugated_ axes move
 Through every posture of luxurious love,
 Her sportive limbs with easiest grace expand;
 Her charms unveiled provoke the lover’s hand;                        120
 Unveiled, except in many a filmy ray,
 Where light _Asymptotes_[231] o’er her bosom play,
 Nor touch her glowing skin, nor intercept the day.

   Yet why, ELLIPSIS,[232] at thy fate repine?
 More lasting bliss, securer joys are thine.                          125
 Though to each fair his treacherous wish may stray,
 Though each, in turn, may seize a transient sway,
 ’Tis thine with mild coercion to restrain,
 Twine round his struggling heart, and bind with endless chain.

   Thus, happy France! in thy regenerate land,                        130
 Where TASTE with RAPINE saunters hand in hand;
 Where, nursed in seats of innocence and bliss,
 REFORM greets TERROR with fraternal kiss;
 Where mild PHILOSOPHY first taught to scan
 The _wrongs_ of PROVIDENCE, and _rights_ of MAN;    135
 Where MEMORY broods o’er FREEDOM’S earlier scene,
 The _Lantern_ bright, and brighter _Guillotine_;
 _Three_ gentle swains evolve their longing arms,
 And woo the young REPUBLIC’S virgin charms;
 And though proud _Barras_ with the fair succeed,              140
 Though not in vain th’ Attorney _Rewbell_ plead,
 Oft doth th’ impartial nymph their love forego,
 To clasp thy crooked shoulders, blest _Lepaux_!

   So, with dark dirge athwart the blasted heath,
 _Three_ Sister Witches hailed the appalled Macbeth.           145

   So, the _Three_ Fates beneath grim Pluto’s roof,
 Strain the dun warp, and weave the murky woof;
 ’Till deadly Atropos with fatal shears
 Slits the thin promise of the expected years,
 While ’midst the dungeon’s gloom or battle’s din,                    150
 Ambition’s victims perish, as they spin.

   Thus, the _Three_ Graces on the Idalian green
 Bow with deft homage to Cythera’s Queen;
 Her polished arms with pearly bracelets deck,
 Part her light locks, and bare her ivory neck;                       155
 Round her fair form ethereal odours throw,
 And teach th’ unconscious zephyrs where to blow,
 Floats the thin gauze, and glittering as they play,
 The bright folds flutter in phlogistic day,.

   So, with his daughters _Three_, th’ unsceptered Lear        160
 Heaved the loud sigh, and poured the glistering tear:
 His daughters _Three_, save one alone, conspire
 (Rich in his gifts) to spurn their generous sire;
 Bid the rude storm his hoary tresses drench,
 Stint the spare meal, the hundred knights retrench;                  165
 Mock his mad sorrow, and with altered mien
 Renounce the daughter, and assert the queen.
 A father’s griefs his feeble frame convulse,
 Rack his white head, and fire his feverous pulse;
 Till kind Cordelia soothes his soul to rest,                         170
 And folds the parent-monarch to her breast.

   Thus some fair spinster grieves in wild affright,
 Vexed with dull megrim, or vertigo light;
 Pleased round the fair, _Three_ dawdling doctors stand,
 Wave the white wig, and stretch the asking hand,                     175
 State the grave doubt, the nauseous draught decree,
 And all receive, though none deserve, a fee.

   So down thy hill, romantic Ashbourn,[233] glides
 The Derby dilly, carrying _Three_ INSIDES.
 One in each corner sits, and lolls at ease,                          180
 With folded arms, propt back, and outstretched knees;
 While the pressed _Bodkin_, punched and squeezed to death,
 Sweats in the midmost place, and scolds, and pants for breath.[234]

                          (_To be continued._)

[Illustration]




                                No. XXV.


                                                       April 30, 1798.


                         BRISSOT’S GHOST.[235]

              As at the Shakespeare Tavern dining,
                O’er the well replenished board
              Patriotic chiefs reclining,
                Quick and large libations poured;
              While, in fancy, great and glorious,
                ’Midst the democratic storm,
              FOX’S crew, with shout victorious,
                Drank to _Radical Reform_;

              Sudden, up the staircase sounding,
                Hideous yells and shrieks were heard;
              Then, each guest with fear confounding,
                A grim train of Ghosts appeared:
              Each a head, with anguish gasping,
                (Himself a trunk deformed with gore),
              In his hand, terrific, clasping,
                Stalked across the wine-stained floor.

              On them gleamed the lamp’s blue lustre,
                When stern BRISSOT’S grizzly shade
              His sad bands was seen to muster,
                And his bleeding troops arrayed.
              Through the drunken crowd he hied him,
                Where the chieftain sate enthroned,
              There, his shadowy trunks beside him,
                Thus in threatening accents groaned:

              “Heed, oh heed our fatal story,
                (I am BRISSOT’S injured Ghost),
              You who hope to purchase glory
                In that field where I was lost!
              Though dread PITT’S expected ruin
                Now your soul with triumph cheers,
              When you think on our undoing,
                You will mix your hopes with fears.

              “See these helpless, headless spectres,
                Wandering through the midnight gloom:
              Mark their Jacobinic lectures
                Echoing from the silent tomb;
              These, thy soul with terror filling,
                Once were Patriots fierce and bold”—
              (Each his head, with gore distilling,
                Shakes, the whilst his tale is told).

              “Some from that dread engine’s carving
                In vain contrived their heads to save—
              See BARBAROUX and PÉTION[236] starving
                In the Languedocian cave!
              See, in a higgler’s[237] hamper buckled,
                How LOUVET’S soaring spirit lay!
              How virtuous ROLAND,[238] helpless cuckold,
                Blew what brains he had away.

              “How beneath the power of MARAT,
                CONDORCET, blaspheming, fell,
              Begged some laudanum of GARAT,[239]
                Drank;—and slept,—to wake in hell!
              Oh that, with worthier souls uniting,
                I in my country’s cause had shone!
              Had died my Sovereign’s battle fighting,
                Or nobly propp’d his sinking throne!—

              “But hold!—I scent the gales of morning—
                Covent-Garden’s clock strikes One!
              Heed, oh heed my earnest warning,
                Ere England is, like France, undone!
              To St. Stephen’s quick repairing,
                Your dissembled mania end;
              And, your errors past forswearing,
                Stand at length your Country’s Friend!”

  [The preceding ballad is parodied from the one by Glover, entitled—


                        ADMIRAL HOSIER’S GHOST.

               As near Porto-Bello lying
                 On the gently swelling flood,
               At midnight with streamers flying,
                 Our triumphant navy rode:
               There while VERNON sat all-glorious
                 From the Spaniard’s late defeat,
               And his crews, with shouts victorious,
                 Drank success to England’s fleet:

               On a sudden, shrilly sounding,
                 Hideous yells and shrieks were heard,
               Then each heart with fear confounding,
                 A sad troop of ghosts appeared:
               All in dreary hammocks shrouded,
                 Which for winding-sheets they wore,
               And with looks by sorrow clouded,
                 Frowning on that hostile shore.

               On them gleam’d the moon’s wan lustre,
                 When the shade of HOSIER brave
               His pale bands was seen to muster,
                 Rising from their wat’ry grave:
               O’er the glimmering wave he hied him,
                 Where the Burford rear’d her sail,
               With three thousand ghosts beside him,
                 And in groans did VERNON hail.

               Heed, O heed, our fatal story,
                 I am HOSIER’S injured ghost.
               You who now have purchas’d glory,
                 At this place where I was lost;
               Though in Porto-Bello’s ruin
                 You now triumph free from fears,
               When you think on our undoing,
                 You will mix your joy with tears.

               See these mournful spectres sweeping
                Ghastly o’er this hated wave,
               Whose wan cheeks are stain’d with weeping,
                 These were English Captains brave.
               Mark those numbers pale and horrid,
                 Those were once my sailors bold,
               See each hangs his drooping forehead,
                 While his dismal tale is told.

               I by twenty sail attended
                 Did this Spanish town affright,
               Nothing then its wealth defended
                 But my orders not to fight.
               O! that in this rolling ocean
                 I had cast them with disdain,
               And obey’d my heart’s warm motion
                 To have quell’d the pride of Spain.

               For resistance I could fear none,
                 But with twenty ships had done
               What thou, brave and happy VERNON,
                 Hast achiev’d with six alone.
               Then the Bastimentos never
                 Had our foul dishonour seen,
               Nor the sea the sad receiver
                 Of this gallant train had been.

               Thus, like thee, proud Spain dismaying,
                 And her galleons leading home,
               Though condemned for disobeying,
                 I had met a traitor’s doom:
               To have fallen, my country crying
                 He has play’d an English part,
               Had been better far than dying
                 Of a griev’d and broken heart.

               Unrepining at thy glory,
                 Thy successful arms we hail;
               But remember our sad story,
                 And let HOSIER’S wrongs prevail.
               Sent in this foul clime to languish,
                 Think what thousands fell in vain,
               Wasted with disease and anguish,
                 Not in glorious battle slain.

               Hence with all my train attending
                 From their oozy tombs below,
               Through the hoary foam ascending,
                 Here I feed my constant woe.
               Here the Bastimentos viewing,
                 We recal our shameful doom,
               And our plaintive cries renewing,
                 Wander through the midnight gloom.

               O’er these waves for ever mourning,
                 Shall we roam deprived of rest,
               If to Britain’s shores returning,
                 You neglect my just request;
               After this proud foe subduing,
                 When your patriot friends you see,
               Think on Vengeance for my ruin,
                 And for England sham’d in me.]




                               No. XXVI.


                                                          May 7, 1798.


                        LOVES OF THE TRIANGLES.

The frequent solicitations which we have received for a continuation of
the LOVES OF THE TRIANGLES have induced us to lay before the public
(with Mr. Higgins’s permission) the concluding lines of the Canto. The
catastrophe of Mr. and Mrs. Gingham, and the episode of Hippona,
contained, in our apprehension, several reflections of too free a
nature. The conspiracy of Parameter and Abscissa against the Ordinate is
written in a strain of poetry so very splendid and dazzling as not to
suit the more tranquil majesty of diction which our readers admire in
Mr. Higgins. We have therefore begun our extract with the Loves of the
Giant Isosceles, and the Picture of the Asses-Bridge, and its several
illustrations.

                         CANTO I.

                         EXTRACT.

     ’Twas thine alone, O youth of giant frame,
     Isosceles![240] that rebel heart to tame!
     In vain coy Mathesis[241] thy presence flies:
     Still turn her fond hallucinating[242] eyes;
     Thrills with _Galvanic_ fires[243] each tortuous nerve,
     Throb her blue veins, and dies her cold reserve.
     —Yet strives the fair, till in the giant’s breast
     She sees the mutual passion’s flame confessed:
     Where’er he moves, she sees his tall limbs trace
     _Internal Angles[244] equal at the base_;
     Again she doubts him: but _produced at will_,
     She sees _th’ external Angles equal still_.

       Say, blest Isosceles! what favouring power,
     Or love, or chance, at night’s auspicious hour,
     While to the Asses-Bridge[245] entranced you strayed,
     Led to the Asses-Bridge the enamoured maid?—
     The Asses-Bridge, for ages doomed to hear
     The deafening surge assault his wooden ear,
     With joy repeats sweet sounds of mutual bliss,
     The soft susurrant sigh, and gently-murmuring kiss.

       So thy dark arches, _London Bridge_, bestride
     Indignant Thames, and part his angry tide,
     There oft—returning from those green retreats,
     Where fair _Vauxhallia_ decks her sylvan seats;—
     Where each spruce nymph, from city compters free,
     Sips the froth’d syllabub, or fragrant tea;
     While with sliced ham, scraped beef, and burnt champagne,
     Her ’prentice lover soothes his amorous pain;—
     There oft, in well-trimmed wherry, glide along
     Smart beaux and giggling belles, a glittering throng:
     Smells the tarr’d rope—with undulation fine
     Flaps the loose sail—the silken awnings shine;
     “Shoot we the bridge!” the venturous boatmen cry;
     “Shoot we the bridge!” the exulting fare[246] reply.
     —Down the steep fall the headlong waters go,
     Curls the white foam, the breakers roar below.
     The veering helm the dexterous steersman stops,
     Shifts the thin oar, the fluttering canvas drops;
     Then with closed eyes, clenched hands, and quick-drawn breath,
     Darts at the central arch, nor heeds the gulf beneath.
     Full ’gainst the pier the unsteady timbers knock,
     The loose planks, starting, own the impetuous shock;
     The shifted oar, dropp’d sail, and steadied helm,
     With angry surge the closing waters whelm—
     Laughs the glad Thames, and clasps each fair one’s charms,
     That screams and scrambles in his oozy arms.
     Drench’d each smart garb, and clogged each straggling limb,
     Far o’er the stream the Cockneys sink or swim;
     While each badged boatman,[247] clinging to his oar,
     Bounds o’er the buoyant wave, and climbs the applauding shore.

       So, towering Alp! from thy majestic ridge[248]
     Young Freedom gazed on Lodi’s blood-stained _Bridge_;
     Saw, in thick throngs, conflicting armies rush,
     Ranks close on ranks, and squadrons squadrons crush;
     Burst in bright radiance through the battle’s storm,
     Waved her broad hands, displayed her awful form;
     Bade at her feet regenerate nations bow,
     And twined the wreath round BUONAPARTE’S brow.
     Quick with new lights, fresh hopes, and altered zeal,
     The slaves of despots dropp’d the blunted steel:
     Exulting Victory owned her favourite child,
     And freed Liguria clapp’d her hands, and smiled.

       Nor long the time ere Britain’s shores shall greet
     The warrior-sage, with gratulation sweet:
     Eager to grasp the wreath of naval fame,
     The GREAT REPUBLIC plans the _Floating Frame_!
     O’er the huge plane gigantic _Terror_ stalks,
     And counts with joy the close-compacted balks:
     Of young-eyed _Massacres_ the Cherub crew,
     Round their grim chief the mimic task pursue;
     Turn the stiff screw,[249] apply the strengthening clamp,
     Drive the long bolt, or fix the stubborn cramp,
     Lash the reluctant beam, the cable splice,
     Join the firm dove-tail with adjustment nice,
     Through yawning fissures urge the willing wedge,
     Or give the smoothing adze a sharper edge.
     Or group’d in fairy bands, with playful care,
     The unconscious bullet to the furnace bear;—
     Or gaily tittering, tip the match with fire,
     Prime the big mortar, bid the shell aspire;
     Applaud, with tiny hands, and laughing eyes,
     And watch the bright destruction as it flies.

       Now the fierce forges gleam with angry glare—
     The windmill[250] waves his woven wings in air;
     Swells the proud sail, the exulting streamers fly,
     Their nimble fins unnumber’d paddles ply:
     Ye soft airs breathe, ye gentle billows waft,
     And, fraught with Freedom, bear the expected Raft!
     Perch’d on her back, behold the Patriot train,
     MUIR, ASHLEY, BARLOW, TONE, O’CONNOR, PAINE!
     While TANDY’S hand directs the blood-empurpled rein.

       Ye Imps of Murder! guard her angel form,
     Check the rude surge, and chase the hovering storm;
     Shield from contusive rocks her timber limbs,
     And guide the sweet Enthusiast[251] as she swims!

       And now, with web-foot oars, she gains the land,
     And foreign footsteps press the yielding sand:
     The Communes spread, the gay Departments smile,
     Fair Freedom’s Plant o’ershades the laughing isle:
     Fired with new hopes, the exulting peasant sees
     The Gallic streamer woo the British breeze;[252]
     While, pleased to watch its undulating charms,
     The smiling infant[253] spreads his little arms.

       Ye sylphs of DEATH! on demon pinions flit
     Where the tall Guillotine is raised for PITT:
     To the poised plank tie fast the monster’s back,[254]
     Close the nice slider, ope the expectant sack;
     Then twitch, with fairy hands, the frolic pin—
     Down falls the impatient axe with deafening din;
     The liberated head rolls off below,[255]
     And simpering Freedom hails the happy blow!

  [The following lines of Dr. Darwin’s, in Canto ii., gave great
  offence to the Government:—

     So, borne on sounding pinions to the west,
     When tyrant-power had built his eagle nest;
     While from his eyry shriek’d the famish’d brood,
     Clench’d their sharp claws, and champ’d their beaks for blood,
     Immortal FRANKLIN watch’d the callow crew,
     And stabb’d the struggling vampires, ere they flew.
     —The patriot-flame with quick contagion ran,
     Hill lighted hill, and man electris’d man:
     Her heroes slain awhile Columbia mourn’d,
     And crown’d with laurels Liberty return’d.

       The warrior, Liberty, with bending sails,
     Helm’d his bold course to fair Hibernia’s vales;
     Firm as he steps along the shouting lands,
     Lo! Truth and Virtue range their radiant bands;
     Sad Superstition wails her empire torn,
     Art plies his oar, and Commerce pours her horn.

       Long had the giant-form on Gallia’s plains
     Inglorious slept, unconscious of his chains;
     Round his large limbs were wound a thousand strings
     By the weak hands of confessors and kings;
     O’er his closed eyes a triple veil was bound,
     And steely rivets lock’d him to the ground;
     While stern Bastile with iron-cage inthralls
     His folded limbs, and hems in marble walls.—ED.]


                    NOTES TO LOVES OF THE TRIANGLES.

  [The general features of Dr. Darwin’s extraordinary poems, the
  “_Loves of the Plants_,” and the “_Economy of Vegetation_,” which
  are so admirably ridiculed in the preceding pages, may be gathered
  from the following specimens:—


                               ARGUMENT.

  The Genius of the place invites the Goddess of Botany—She
  descends—is received by Spring and the Elements—Addresses the Nymphs
  of Fire—Love created the Universe—Chaos explodes—All the Stars
  revolve—Colours of the Morning and Evening Skies—Exterior Atmosphere
  of inflammable Air—Fires at the Earth’s Centre—Animal
  Incubation—Venus visits the Cyclops—Phosphoric Lights in the
  Evening—Bolognian Stone—Ignis fatuus—Eagle armed with
  Lightning—Discovery of Fire—Medusa—The Chemical Properties of
  Fire—Lady in Love—Gunpowder—Steam-engine—Labours of Hercules—Halo
  round the Heads of Saints—Fairy rings—Death of Professor
  Richman—Cupid snatches the thunderbolt from Jupiter—The great Egg of
  Night—Naiad released—Frost assailed—Whale attacked—Ice-Islands
  navigated into the Tropic Seas—Rainy Monsoons—Elijah on Mount
  Carmel—Departure of the Nymphs of Fire like sparks from Artificial
  Fireworks, &c.

             “Nymphs! you disjoin, unite, condense, expand,
             And give new wonders to the Chemist’s hand;
             On tepid clouds of rising steam aspire,
             Or fix in sulphur all its solid fire;
             With boundless spring elastic airs unfold,
             Or fill the fine vacuities of gold;
             With sudden flash vitrescent sparks reveal,
             By fierce collision from the flint and steel;
             Or mark with shining letters Kunkel’s name
             In the pale phosphor’s self-consuming flame.
             So the chaste heart of some enchanted maid
             Shines with insidious light, by love betray’d;
             Round her pale bosom plays the young desire,
             And slow she wastes by self-consuming fire.”

  These poems, produced in that dreary time for English poetry which
  elapsed between the disappearance of Cowper and Burns and the advent
  of Scott and Byron, had, in spite of their glaring absurdities, no
  lack of warm admirers. Miss Seward, in her _Life of Dr. Darwin_,
  published in 1804, sets no limits to her admiration:—“We are
  presented,” she says, “with an highly imaginative and splendidly
  descriptive poem, whose successive pictures alternately possess the
  sublimity of Michael Angelo, the correctness and elegance of
  Raphael, with the glow of Titian; whose landscapes have, at times,
  the strength of Salvator, and at others the softness of Claude;
  whose numbers are of stately grace, and artful harmony; while its
  allusions to ancient and modern history and fable, and its
  interspersion of recent and extraordinary anecdotes, render it
  extremely entertaining. * * * Each part is enriched by a number of
  philosophical notes. They state a great variety of theories and
  experiments in Botany, Chemistry, Electricity, Mechanics, and in the
  various species of Air, salubrious, noxious, and deadly,” &c.]


                   THE SCOTTISH “POLITICAL MARTYRS”.

  [THOMAS MUIR, the younger, of Hunter’s Hill, a promising young
  advocate of the Scottish Bar, and of nigh respectability, was tried
  at Edinburgh, 30th and 31st of August, 1793, before Lord Justice
  Clerk (Braxfield), Lords Henderland, Swinton, Dunsinnan, and
  Abercromby, for Sedition. The weightiest charge against him was that
  of “_lending_” a copy of Paine’s _Rights of Man_ to a person who
  begged a reading of that popular book. He was found guilty, and
  sentenced to fourteen years’ transportation. On the 17th of the
  ensuing month, the Rev. THOS. FYSHE PALMER, a Unitarian Minister of
  Dundee, and an ex-fellow of Queen’s College, Cambridge, was tried at
  Perth for publishing a seditious Address, and sentenced to seven
  years’ transportation. On their arrival at Woolwich, in a revenue
  cutter, they were put on board separate hulks, and assisted at the
  common labour on the banks of the river. MUIR, soon after his
  arrival in New South Wales, effected his escape, in an American
  vessel, to South America, whence he proceeded to Spain. During this
  voyage, in an action with a British frigate, he received a wound in
  the head, from which he recovered; but on his arrival at his
  destination, he was imprisoned by the Spanish authorities, until, on
  the application of M. de Talleyrand in the name of the then
  government of France, he obtained his release. He then went to
  France, and died at Bourdeaux [or Chantilly] in 1799; aged 33.
  PALMER served out his seven years, but died on the homeward voyage.

  Other Trials soon followed. At the close of December, 1793, MR.
  SKIRVING, MR. GERRALD, and MR. MARGAROT were tried at Edinburgh on
  similar charges of seditious practices, and were all sentenced to
  fourteen years’ transportation. The former two died soon after
  reaching New South Wales. MAURICE MARGAROT, who appears to have
  conducted himself throughout with the most abandoned and shameless
  profligacy, was the only one of these convicts—his fourteen years
  over—who ever set foot again in Britain.

  GERRALD was a man of very superior ability, and a favourite pupil of
  Dr. Parr’s, as is mentioned by De Quincey in his famous essay on
  that noted Whig pedagogue.

  On the Scottish “political martyrs” Lord Cockburn, in his posthumous
  _Examination of the Trials for Sedition in Scotland_, published in
  1888, which deals with the twenty-five trials of the above-named
  five and of thirty-two others, between 1793 and 1849, passes his
  deliberate verdict, that, with the exception of Muir, not one of
  them was guiltless. But, like ordinary criminals, they were entitled
  to a fair and impartial trial; and their trials were, one and all,
  iniquitous. Of the six judges who presided in the first fourteen
  (1793–94), five were dull, timid nonentities; the sixth, Lord
  Justice Clerk Braxfield, was, says Lord Cockburn, “a profound
  practical lawyer, and a powerful man; coarse and illiterate ...
  utterly devoid of judicial decorum, and though pure in the
  administration of civil justice, when he was exposed to no
  temptation, with no other conception of principle in any political
  case except that the upholding of his party was a duty attaching to
  his position. Over the five weak men who sat beside him, this coarse
  and dexterous ruffian predominated as he chose.” But Jedburgh—no,
  nor the Bloody Assize itself—could scarcely match one scene in
  Gerrald’s trial:—“‘After all,’ he was urging in his defence, ‘the
  most useful discoveries in philosophy, the most important changes in
  the moral history of man, have been innovations. The Revolution was
  an innovation, Christianity itself was an innovation.’ Instantly
  upon this, the following interruption took place:—Lord Braxfield:
  ‘You would have been stopped long before this, if you had not been a
  stranger. All that you have been saying is sedition. And now, my
  Lords, he is attacking Christianity.’ Lord Henderland: ‘I allow him
  all the benefit of his defence. But ... I cannot sit here as a judge
  without saying that it is a most indecent defence....’ The juries
  were packed as never, surely, before, or afterwards.”

  With such judges, such juries, and, at least, in two cases, false
  witnesses, it might seem easy to anticipate the result; but the
  result transcends anticipation. In almost every case a light
  sentence would have amply met the requirements of justice; but the
  judges all shared Lord Swinton’s opinion that “it is impossible to
  punish Sedition adequately, now that torture has been abolished”. So
  they strove to supply the deficiency by Transportation, a punishment
  unwarranted by precedent.

  With respect to Margarot’s trial at Edinburgh, the following is a
  vivid memory of Lord Cockburn’s boyhood:—

  “MARGAROT came from the Black Bull [in Leith Street] to be tried,
  attended by a procession of the populace and his Convention friends,
  with banners and what was called a tree of liberty. This tree was in
  the shape of the letter M, about twenty feet high and ten wide. The
  honour of bearing it up by carrying the two upright poles was
  assigned to two eminent Conventionalists, and the little culprit
  walked beneath the circular placard in the centre, which proclaimed
  liberty and equality, &c. I was looking out of a window in the old
  Post-Office, which was then the northmost house on the west side of
  the North Bridge. I think I see the scene yet. The whole North
  Bridge, from the Tron Church to the Register Office, was quite empty
  at first; not a single creature venturing on that bit of sand, over
  which the waves were so soon to break from both ends. The
  Post-Office and the adjoining houses had been secretly filled with
  constables, and sailors from a frigate in the roads (I think _The
  Hind_, Capt. Cochrane), all armed with sticks and batons. No soldier
  appeared, it being determined that this civic insurrection should be
  put down by the civil force, unaided, at least, by scarlet. As soon
  as the tree, which led the van, emerged from Leith Street, and
  appeared at the north end of the bridge, Provost Elder and the
  Magistrates issued from some place they had retired to (I believe
  the Tron Church), and appeared, all robed, at the south end. The day
  was good. There was still not one person—I doubt if there was even a
  dog—on any part of the space, being the whole length of the bridge,
  between the two parties. But the rear of each was crammed with
  people, who filled up every inch as those in front moved on. The
  Magistrates were in a line across the street, with the Provost in
  the centre, the city officers behind this line, and probably a
  hundred loyal gentlemen in the rear of the officers. The two parties
  advanced steadily towards each other, and in perfect silence, till
  they met just about the Post-Office. The Provost stepped forward
  about a pace, so that he almost touched the front line of the
  rebels, when, advancing his cane, he commanded them to retire. This
  order probably would not have been obeyed; but, at any rate, it
  could not have been obeyed speedily, from the crowd behind. However,
  all this was immaterial; for, without waiting one instant to see
  whether they meant to retire or not, the houses vomited forth their
  bludgeoned contents, and in almost two minutes the tree was
  demolished and thrown over the bridge, the street covered with the
  knocked down, the accused dragged to the bar, and the insurrection
  was over.”

  On February 20th, 1837, a meeting took place at the Crown and Anchor
  Tavern, Strand, for commencing a subscription to erect monuments in
  London and Edinburgh to the memory of the above five Reformers.
  Joseph Hume, M.P. was in the chair; Colonel Perronet Thompson, Mr.
  Dan. Whittle Harvey, and fifteen other members of Parliament were
  present. A lofty obelisk was erected on the Calton Hill to the
  memory of the “Scottish Martyrs,” but London did not sympathize with
  the movement.—ED.]


                              JOEL BARLOW.

  [JOEL BARLOW, born in 1756 in Connecticut, was educated as a
  Presbyterian minister, but afterwards turned Deist. Before this
  change he translated the Psalms into metre, and his version is still
  used in the churches of New England. He now adopted the Law, and
  engaged in periodicals—one, _The Anarchist_, which was political in
  its character, and exercised great influence. In 1788, after
  visiting England, he went to Paris, where he joined the Girondists.
  In 1791, he returned to England, where he published the first part
  of his _Advice to the Privileged Orders_, in which he assails the
  whole system of Government pursued in monarchical Europe, the Church
  establishments, the standing armies, the judicial organisations, and
  the financial systems which belong to the old governments. In
  February, 1792, he published a political poem, which he entitled
  _The Conspiracy of Kings_; also a Letter to the _Convention_
  advising the separation of Church and State. So great did his
  reputation become that he was fixed on by the London Constitutional
  Society to present their Address to the _Convention_. After various
  political transactions in the interest of France, and also in
  commercial speculations which made him a rich man, he left Paris in
  1805, living on his estate in America till 1811, when he was sent as
  Minister Plenipotentiary to Paris. But Napoleon being on his Russian
  Expedition, he followed him to Wilna; but the fatiguing journey
  proved fatal: he died 26th December, 1812. He wrote at an early age
  a poem, _The Vision of Columbus_, which acquired great popularity,
  and which he afterwards enlarged as _The Columbiad_. Among other
  works he published (in 1796) a mock-heroic poem, _Hasty Pudding_,
  which is generally considered his best work.—ED.]


                          THEOBALD WOLFE TONE.

  [THEOBALD WOLFE TONE, the founder of the ASSOCIATION OF UNITED
  IRISHMEN, was born in Dublin in 1764, and, after passing through
  Trinity College, came to London to prosecute his legal studies,
  which he soon forsook for politics, being induced thereto by the
  indignation excited in his breast by the persecution of the Irish
  Catholics, whose cause, although himself a Protestant, he warmly
  advocated. With the view of getting their grievances redressed, he
  founded the society of UNITED IRISHMEN, which gave great alarm to
  the English Government. His liberty being menaced, he went to
  America, and thence to France, where he arranged with Gen. Hoche the
  expeditions to Bantry Bay and the Texel. Being appointed
  Adjutant-General, he served in several of the French armies, and
  lastly in Gen. Hardi’s expedition to Ireland in October, 1798. The
  vessel he was aboard of was captured by the English, and he was
  conveyed to Dublin, tried by a Court-Martial, and sentenced to be
  hanged. He anticipated his execution, however, by committing suicide
  in prison, 19th November, 1798.—ED.]


                            ARTHUR O’CONNOR.

  [On the 21st and 22nd May, 1798, ARTHUR O’CONNOR (proprietor of a
  Dublin newspaper, _The Press_), JOHN BINNS (an active member of the
  _London Corresponding Society_), JOHN ALLEN, JEREMIAH LEARY, and
  JAS. O’COIGLY, _alias_ Jas. Quigley, _alias_ Jas. John Fivey (a
  Priest), were tried at Maidstone for High Treason. ROBERT FERGUSSON
  was counsel for Allen. O’COIGLY only was found Guilty, and was
  executed 7th June, on Pennenden Heath. After being suspended for ten
  minutes, he was cut down and his head severed from his body: the
  disgusting remainder of his sentence was remitted. He met his death
  with great fortitude, and denying to the last the charge of
  treasonable correspondence abroad. In the _State Trials_, vols. 26
  and 27, are included the Life of the prisoner; Observations on his
  Trial; Address to the People of Ireland; and Letters, all written by
  himself during his confinement in Maidstone Gaol. His real name, he
  says, was the Rev. Jas. Coigly, and his age 36. “Can you imagine a
  man more treacherous and profligate than O’COIGLY?” said Sir James
  Mackintosh to DR. PARR. “Yes, Sir, he might have been worse: he was
  a parson—he might have been a lawyer; he was a traitor—he might have
  been an apostate; he was an Irishman—he might have been a
  Scotchman.” When it is recollected that Mackintosh was a Scotchman
  and a lawyer, and that he had written in defence of the French
  Revolution against Burke, these observations of Dr. Parr were both
  insolent and uncalled for.

  A Portrait of “Arthur O’Connor, late Member in the Irish Parliament
  for Borough of Philipstown, painted by J. Dowling, engraved by W.
  Ward,” was published in London, 18th April, 1798. Another Portrait
  in military uniform is to be found in Barrington’s _Memoirs of the
  Union_. He figures also in several of GILLRAY’S _Caricatures_.

  In the _Birmingham Daily Post_ of April 2, 1888, it is stated that
  THE HON. R. E. O’CONNOR, M.A., barrister-at-law, the latest addition
  to the Legislative Council of New South Wales, is a grandson of
  ARTHUR O’CONNOR, one of the leaders of the United Irishmen, who died
  a General in the service of France.

  When O’CONNOR was acquitted by the Jury, on the above-named
  occasion, but before the Judge had given orders for his release, a
  strange scene occurred in court, an attempt being made, as it was
  alleged, by SACKVILLE, EARL OF THANET, ROBERT FERGUSSON (in after
  years known as CUTLAR FERGUSSON, Judge-Advocate-General), and others
  to facilitate his escape in order to avoid further charges about to
  be preferred against him, Binns also being implicated for this
  exploit, which was unsuccessful, but attended with violence. These
  confederates were tried at the Bar of the Court of King’s Bench,
  25th April, 1799. The Counsel for the Crown were Sir John Scott
  [Lord Eldon], Law [Lord Ellenborough], Sir W. Garrow, Sir C. Abbot,
  &c., while the defendants had the powerful advocacy of Erskine and
  others. His Lordship and Mr. Fergusson were found guilty after a
  long and ingenious defence by the latter, which presaged his future
  eminence as a Counsel. LORD THANET was ordered to pay a fine of
  £1000; to be imprisoned in the Tower for a year; and to give
  security for good behaviour for seven years on the expiration of the
  sentence; himself in £10,000, and two sureties in £5000 each.
  FERGUSSON was ordered to pay a fine of £100; to be imprisoned in the
  King’s Bench prison for one year; to give security for good
  behaviour for seven years from the expiration of the sentence;
  himself in £500, and two sureties in £250 each.—See _State Trials_,
  vols. 26 and 27.—ED.]


                          JAMES NAPPER TANDY.

  [“A person who afterwards made a considerable figure in the local
  affairs of Ireland raised himself about this time into considerable
  notoriety by his patriotic exertions. This was Mr. JAMES NAPPER
  TANDY, a gentleman in the middle station of life, without talent or
  natural influence, had become a warm advocate in the corporation of
  Dublin; he debated zealously in public, he argued strenuously in
  private, and persevered in both with indefatigable ardour. His
  person was ungracious—his language neither eloquent nor
  argumentative—his address neither graceful nor impressive—but he was
  sincere and persevering—and though in many instances erroneous and
  violent, he was considered to be honest. His private character
  furnished no ground to doubt the integrity of his public one—and,
  like many of those persons who occasionally spring up in
  revolutionary periods, he acquired celebrity without being able to
  account for it, and possessed influence without rank or capacity. In
  1796, Mr. Tandy lost all his popularity, and nearly his life, by his
  apparent want of courage in an affair between him and Mr. Toler,
  then Solicitor-General, afterwards Lord Norbury, and Chief Justice
  of the Common Pleas. Mr. Tandy having signified to Mr. Toler his
  desire to fight him, the Chief Justice readily accepted the offer.
  Both parties manœuvred very skilfully; but Mr. Tandy delaying his
  ultimatum too long for the impatience of the Solicitor-General, he
  brought him before the House of Commons for a breach of privilege,
  and prosecuted him for sedition. Mr. Tandy escaped to the Continent,
  entered the French Service, invaded Ireland, was, with his
  confederates, arrested by the British Envoy at Hamburg, 24 Nov.,
  1798, contrary to the law of nations: the Minister of France claimed
  them as French citizens, and the Senate, unwilling to offend either
  power, came to no decision on the subject. Tandy was thereupon taken
  to Ireland and condemned to be hanged—was pardoned by Lord
  Cornwallis, and sent back to France, where he died a French
  General.”—Barrington’s _Memoirs of the Union_, vol. 1, where is a
  portrait of Tandy.—ED.]

[Illustration]




                               No. XXVII.


                                                           May 14, 1798.

The gallant defence of the ISLES OF ST. MARCOU would justify a more
serious celebration than is attempted in the following poem; and the
modest and unassuming manner in which LIEUTENANT PRICE gives the account
of services so highly meritorious, adds to the hope which we entertain
that he will meet a more solid reward than any verse of ours or of our
correspondent’s could bestow.

CITIZEN MUSKEIN, if he understands Horace, and can read English, will be
amply rewarded for the victory of which he has, no doubt, by this time,
made a pompous report to the Directory, by the perusal of the 14th Ode
of the 1st Book, for which we have to return our thanks to a classical
correspondent.


                A CONSOLATORY ADDRESS TO HIS GUN-BOATS.

                          BY CITIZEN MUSKEIN.

              _O navis! referent in mare te novi fluctus._

             O gentle Gun-Boats, whom the Seine
             Discharged from Havre to the main;
             Now leaky, creaking, blood-bespattered,
             With rudders broken, canvas shattered—
             O tempt the treacherous sea no more,
             But gallantly regain the shore.

               Scarce could our guardian goddess, Reason,
             Ensure your timbers through the season.
             Though built of wood from famed Marseilles,
             Well-manned from galleys, and from jails,
             Though with LEPAUX’S and REWBELL’S aid,
             By PLEVILLE’S[256] skill your keel was laid;
             Though lovely STAEL, and lovelier STONE,[256]
             Have worked their fingers to the bone,
             And cut their petticoats to rags
             To make your bright three-coloured flags;
             Yet sacrilegious grape and ball
             Deform the works of STONE and STAEL,
             And trembling, without food or breeches,
             Our sailors curse the _painted_ ——.[257]

               Children of Muskein’s anxious care,
             Source of my hope and my despair,
             GUN-BOATS—unless you mean hereafter
             To furnish food for British laughter—
             Sweet GUN-BOATS, with your gallant crew,
             Tempt not the rocks of SAINT MARCOU;
             Beware the Badger’s bloody pennant,
             And that d——d invalid LIEUTENANT!


                  LYRICS OF HORACE. ODE XIV., BOOK I.

                   TRANSLATED BY ARCHDEACON WRANGHAM.

                  O Ship, fresh billows soon again
                Shall bear thee to the boisterous main!
                Firm, keep the port. See, see thy side,
                Without a single oar to guide!
                Wounded by tempests is thy mast;
                Thy sail-yards groan beneath the blast;
                Nor can thy keel, uncabled, brave
                The swelling of th’ imperious wave.
                Torn are thy sails! nor Gods hast thou,
                When danger threats, to hear thy vow.
                Though born of noblest wood, ’twas thine
                To tower a vigorous Pontic pine;
                ’Tis vain thy race, thy name, to prize:
                Nought on his painted stern relies
                The trembling seaman. Storms afar
                Thicken to mock thy strength: beware.

                  Thou, who wast late my anxious fear,
                Thou now my fondest, tenderest care:
                O shun, dear Ship, those tossing seas
                Which part the white-cliff’d Cyclades!

  [MUSKEIN was an inhabitant of Antwerp, whom the Directory not only
  appointed to superintend the construction of the flat-bottomed boats
  for the invasion of Great Britain (usually called by the French
  sailors “_bateaux à la Muskein_”), but made a “_capitaine de
  vaisseau_”. An attack was ordered to be made upon the two small
  islands of SAINT MARCOUF (each not more than 200 yards in length),
  of which, in July, 1795, SIR SIDNEY SMITH, with the Diamond frigate,
  had taken unobstructed possession, and which were considered to give
  to the English great facility in intercepting between the ports of
  Havre and Cherbourg. The islands are situated off the river Isigny,
  on the coast of Normandy, and about four miles distant from the
  French shore. After being garrisoned with about 500 seamen and
  marines, including a great proportion of invalids, these small
  islands were placed under the command of LIEUT. CHARLES PAPPS PRICE,
  of _The Badger_, a cruiser-converted Dutch hoy, mounting four, or at
  most six, guns.

  On the 8th April, 1798, MUSKEIN, with 33 flat-bottomed boats, with a
  body of troops on board, and a few gun-brigs, was about to make a
  combined attack on the two islands, but was driven off by two
  British frigates, THE DIAMOND, _Capt. Sir R. J. Strachan_, and THE
  HYDRA, _Capt. Sir Francis Laforey_, and stood into Caen river. While
  there for three weeks, repairing damages, he was joined by seven
  heavy gun-brigs, and about 40 flat-boats and armed fishing vessels,
  bringing with them additional troops.

  On the 6th May, LIEUT. PRICE received information that an attack was
  meditated during the night. By 10 p.m., owing to the prevailing
  calm, the small naval force on the station, consisting of the 50–gun
  ship, ADAMANT, _Capt. Wm. Hotham_, 24–gun ship, EURYDICE, _Capt.
  John Talbot_, and 18–gun brig-sloop, ORESTES, _Capt. W. Haggitt_,
  had not been able to approach nearer to the islands than six
  miles—precisely what the assailants wanted. The attacking force
  consisted of 52–gun brigs and flat-bottomed boats, having on board,
  as was reported, about 6000 men. At day-break, on the 7th, the
  flotilla was seen drawn up in a line opposite to the south-west
  front of the western redoubt; and instantly was opened, upon the
  brigs and flats composing it, a fire from 17 pieces of cannon,
  consisting of four 4, two 6, and six 24 pounder long guns, and three
  24 and two 32–pounder carronades, being all the guns that would
  bear. The brigs remained at a distance of from 300 to 400 yards, in
  order to batter the redoubt with their heavy long guns, while the
  boats, with great resolution, rowed up until within musket-shot of
  the battery. But the guns of the latter, loaded with round, grape,
  and canister, soon poured destruction amongst these, cutting several
  of the boats “into chips,” and compelling all that could keep afloat
  to seek their safety in flight. Six or seven boats were seen to go
  down, and one small flat, No. 13, was afterwards towed in, bottom
  upwards. She appeared, by some pieces of paper found in her, to have
  had 144 persons on board, including 129 of the second company of the
  Boulogne battalion.

  The loss sustained by the British garrison amounted to one
  private-marine killed, and two private-marines and two seamen
  wounded. According to one French account, the invaders lost about
  900 in killed or drowned, and between 300 and 400 wounded. As a
  reward for their conduct on this occasion, Lieutenants PRICE and
  BOURNE were each promoted to the rank of Commander. The former died
  a Post Captain, at Hereford, in 1813, aged 62.—_James’s Naval
  History_, vol. ii., pp. 128–131: ed. 1886.—ED.]

  [M. PLÉVILLE was Minister of Marine, and, shortly after this
  unsuccessful _début_ of the famous flotilla, was succeeded by
  Rear-Adm. Bruix, who directed Rear-Adm. La Crosse to take the
  command, and to make a second attack upon the islands. This,
  however, the French Government declined to make.—ED.]


                         HELEN MARIA WILLIAMS.

  HELEN MARIA WILLIAMS.—[“Among the literary celebrities of the French
  Revolution was Helen Maria Williams, at whose house were wont to
  assemble the most distinguished of the liberal writers of France,
  her own reputation giving considerable _éclat_ to these meetings.
  She wrote some of the most beautiful hymns in our language, was a
  prisoner under the _reign of terror_, and published a work on the
  French Revolution which is full of the most touching incidents, and
  adorned with specimens of the ardent and pathetic poetry, the
  product of French genius under the excitement of those most
  mysterious days. A. Humboldt was much attached to her, and committed
  to her care the translation and publication of some of his most
  elaborate works.

  “She had two nephews, ATHANAS and CHARLES COQUEREL, whom she
  educated, and who both attained considerable fame, one in the
  theological and the other in the political field. Athanas was for
  some time the preacher in the Protestant Church at Amsterdam, and
  married the daughter of a Swiss gentleman, the only person I have
  ever known on the Continent to adopt the dress and profess the
  opinions of an English Quaker. Miss Williams maintained intimate
  relations with her English friends, was familiar with the great
  lights of the Revolution, and her conversation was most instructive,
  entertaining, and varied. All her sympathies were on the side of
  freedom, and though she was not so prominent as to be persecuted by
  the Emperor, like Madame de Staël, she was the object of a good deal
  of suspicion and narrowly watched by the police.”—_Autobr.
  Recollections by Sir John Bowring_, pp. 353–4.—ED.]

  [MISS WILLIAMS, for some years, wrote that portion of the _New
  Annual Register_ which relates to France. Among many other
  productions she was the author of the song _Evan Banks_ (to the tune
  of _Savourna Delish_), which has often been attributed to Burns; a
  novel called _Julia_, and a _Tour in Switzerland_. Horace Walpole
  called her in his CORRESPONDENCE a “scribbling trollop”.

  She lived for many years, and until the death of that gentleman—in
  Paris, 1818—under the _protection_ of JOHN HURFORD STONE, a man of
  letters, who in the early part of the French Revolution had removed
  with his wife to Paris, where he formed an intimacy with Miss
  Williams. She was born about 1762, and died in Paris in 1827 as a
  friend to the Bourbons, and the enemy of the Revolution!

  This MR. STONE was born at Tiverton in 1763. While in Paris he was
  in the confidence of the Directory, and became one of the chief
  printers there. In 1805, he brought out an edition of the _Geneva
  Bible_, and published several English reprints; also Miss Williams’s
  translation of HUMBOLDT’S _Travels_. His brother, WM. STONE, was
  tried in 1796 for High Treason, for holding treasonable
  correspondence with him.—ED.]


                                 ELEGY
                  ON THE DEATH OF JEAN BON ST. ANDRÉ.

The following exquisite tribute to the memory of an unfortunate
republican is written with such a touching sensibility, that those who
can command salt tears must prepare to shed them. The narrative is
simple and unaffected; the event in itself interesting; the moral
obvious and awful.—We have only to observe, that as this account of the
transaction is taken from the French papers, it may possibly be somewhat
partial.—The DEY’S own statement of the affair has not yet been
received. Every friend of humanity will join with us in expressing a
candid and benevolent hope, that this business may not tend to kindle
the flames of war between these two unchristian powers; but that, by
mutual concession and accommodation, they may come to some point (short
of the restoration of JEAN BON’S head on his shoulders, which in this
stage of the discussion is hardly practicable) by which the peace of the
Pagan world may be preserved. For our part, we pretend not to decide
from which quarter the concessions ought principally to be made. It is
but candid to allow that there are probably faults on _both sides_, in
this, as in most other cases. For the character of the DEY we profess a
sincere respect on the one hand; and on the other, we naturally wish
that the head of JEAN BON ST. ANDRÉ should be reserved for his own
guillotine.


                           ELEGY; OR, DIRGE.

                                    I.

                All in the town of TUNIS,
                In Africa the torrid,
                  On a Frenchman of rank
                  Was played such a prank,
                As LEPAUX must think quite horrid.

                                    II.

                No story half so shocking,
                By kitchen fire or laundry,
                  Was ever heard tell,—
                  As that which befel
                The great JEAN BON ST. ANDRÉ.[258]

                                          III.

                Poor John was a gallant Captain,
                In battles much delighting;
                  He fled full soon
                  On the first of June—
                But he bade the rest keep fighting.

                                          IV.

                To Paris then returning,
                And recovered from his panic,
                  He translated the plan
                  Of _Paine’s Rights of Man_,
                Into language Mauritanic.

                                          V.

                He went to teach at Tunis—
                Where as Consul he was settled—
                  Amongst other things,
                  “That the people are kings!”
                Whereat the DEY was nettled.

                                          VI.

                The Moors being rather stupid,
                And in temper somewhat mulish,
                  Understood not a word
                  Of the doctrine they heard,
                And thought the Consul foolish.

                                          VII.

                He formed a _Club_ of _Brothers_,
                And moved some resolutions—
                  “Ho! ho! (says the DEY),
                  “So this is the way
                “That the French make _Revolutions_”.

                                          VIII.

                The DEY then gave his orders
                In Arabic and Persian—
                  “Let no more be said—
                  But bring me his head!
                These _Clubs_ are my aversion”.

                                          IX.

                The Consul quoted WICQUEFORT,
                And PUFFENDORF and GROTIUS;
                  And proved from VATTEL
                  Exceedingly well,
                Such a deed would be quite atrocious.

                                          X.

                ’Twould have moved a Christian’s bowels
                To hear the doubts he stated;—
                  But the Moors they did
                  As they were bid,
                And strangled him while he prated.

                                          XI.

                His head with a sharp-edged sabre
                They severed from his shoulders,
                  And stuck it on high,
                  Where it caught the eye,
                To the wonder of all beholders.

                                          XII.

                This sure is a doleful story
                As e’er you heard or read of;—
                  If at Tunis you prate
                  Of matters of state,
                Anon they cut your head off!

                                          XIII.

                But we hear the French Directors
                Have thought the point so knotty;
                  That the DEY having shown
                  He dislikes JEAN BON,
                They have sent him BERNADOTTÉ.

On recurring to the French papers to verify our Correspondent’s
statement of this singular adventure of JEAN BON ST. ANDRÉ, we
discovered, to our great mortification, that it happened at ALGIERS, and
not at TUNIS. We should have corrected this mistake, but for two
reasons—first, that ALGIERS would not stand in the verse; and, secondly,
that we are informed by the young man who conducts the Geographical
Department of the _Morning Chronicle_, that both the towns are in
Africa, or Asia (he is not quite certain which), and, what is more to
the purpose, that both are peopled by Moors. TUNIS, therefore, may
stand.

[MARSHAL BERNADOTTÉ, the French _Prince of Monté Corvo_, died as CHARLES
JOHN XIV., _King of Sweden_, 8th March, 1844, in his eighty-first year.
He married, in 1798, EUGENIA-BERNARDINA-DÉSIRÉE DE CLARY, daughter of a
Marseilles merchant, and sister of MADAME JOSEPH BUONAPARTE (Queen of
Spain). “She, who was not a common-place person,” says MADAME DE
RÉMUSAT, in her valuable _Memoirs_, “had before her marriage been very
much in love with Napoleon, and appears to have always preserved the
memory of that feeling! It has been supposed that her hardly
extinguished passion caused her obstinate refusal to leave France.” She
survived her husband many years, and died in Paris, in the Rue d’Anjou
Saint Honoré. Her husband was succeeded on the throne of Sweden by their
son, OSCAR I., who married JOSÉPHINE, _daughter of_ EUGÈNE BEAUHARNAIS,
Duc de Leuchtenberg, and _granddaughter of the_ EMPRESS JOSEPHINE.

BERNADOTTÉ owed his elevation to the throne to the misgovernment of
Gustavus IV., who had brought the nation to the verge of ruin, and who
was deposed in 1809, when his uncle, the Duke of Sudermania, became king
as Charles XIII.; and the next year, BERNADOTTÉ was elected _Crown
Prince_, and successor to the throne.

In 1813, he rendered great assistance to the Allies, for, as Crown
Prince, he joined the confederacy against France with 30,000 men; and,
after defeating Marshal Ney, with great loss, on the 6th September, he,
on the 18th October, with the co-operation of Blücher, again defeated
him at the decisive Battle of Leipsic; and, on the 19th, the Emperor
Alexander, the King of Prussia, and the Crown Prince, entered the great
square of Leipsic, amidst the acclamations of the inhabitants. He was a
decided democrat, and hated by Napoleon, but was the only sovereign of
the revolutionary branch who was permitted to retain his dominions after
the great reaction in 1814. The choice made of this great soldier of
fortune excited the surprise of all Europe at the time, but the wisdom
of it was soon demonstrated by his prudent conduct. He had distinguished
himself from all Napoleon’s other marshals by his clemency in victory.
For half a century before his accession, Sweden had not known the peace
and prosperity in which he left the country on his death.

In T. RAIKES’S _Diary_ will be found some interesting anecdotes of
BERNADOTTÉ’S gratitude for services rendered him while a young
subaltern. But one is of a more startling nature, as it records his
narrow escape from the death intended for him by the widow of the late
king, who had purposely prepared a poisoned cup of coffee for him, which
she herself presented to him at her own table. Having been suddenly
warned, he succeeded in forcing it upon her. She resolutely accepted her
fate, and died during the night.—ED.]

[Illustration]




                              No. XXVIII.


                                                           May 21, 1798.

We have received the following letter, with the poem that accompanies
it, from a gentleman whose political opinions have hitherto differed
from our own; but who appears to feel, as every man who loves his
country must, that there can be but one sentiment entertained by
Englishmen at the present moment.

Were we at liberty, we should be happy to do justice to the author, and
credit to ourselves, by mentioning his name.


                  TO THE EDITOR OF THE “ANTI-JACOBIN”.

SIR,—However men may have differed on the political or constitutional
questions which have of late been brought into discussion—whatever
opinions they may have held on the system or conduct of
administration—there can surely be now but one sentiment as to the
instant necessity of firm and strenuous union for the preservation of
our very existence as a people; and if degrees of obligation could be
admitted, where the utmost is required from all, it should seem that in
this cause the opposers of administration stand doubly pledged; for with
what face of consistency can men pretend to stickle for points of
constitutional liberty at home, who will not be found amongst the
foremost at their posts to defend their country from the yoke of foreign
slavery?

That there should be any set of men so infatuated as not to be convinced
that the object of the enemy must be the utter destruction of these
countries, after making the largest allowance for the effects of
prejudice and passion, it is not easy to conceive. Such, however, we are
told, there are. They believe, then, that after a long series of
outrage, insult, and injury, in the height of their animosity and
presumption, these moderate, mild, disinterested conquerors will invade
us in arms, out of pure love and kindness, merely for our good, only to
make us wiser, and better, and happier, and more prosperous than before!

Future events lie hid in the volume of Fate, but the intentions of men
may be known by almost infallible indications. Passion and interest, the
two mighty motives of human action, determine the Government of France
to attempt the abolition of the British Empire! and if, abandoned by God
and our right arm, we should flinch in the conflict, that destruction
will be operative to the full of their gigantic and monstrous
imaginations!—Harbours filled up with the ruins of their towns and
arsenals, the Thames rendered a vast morass, by burying the Imperial
City in her bosom—but I will not proceed in the horrible picture.

Are we then, it may be asked, to wage eternal war?—No; a glorious
resistance leads to an honourable peace. The French people have been
long weary of the war; their spirit has been forced by a system which
must end in the failure of the engagement to give them the plunder of
this country. They will awake from their dream, and raise a cry for
peace, which their government will not dare to resist. The monarchs of
Europe must now begin clearly to perceive that their fate hangs on the
destiny of England; they will unite to compel a satisfactory peace on a
broad foundation; and peace, when war has been tried to the utmost, will
probably be permanent. A few years of wise economy and redoubled
industry will place us again on the rising scale; and if the pressure of
the times may have rendered it necessary sometimes to have cast a
temporary veil over the statue of Liberty, she may again safely be shown
in an unimpaired lustre.

Of the following verses I have nothing to say: if it should be decided
that the greatness of the object cannot bear out the mediocrity of the
execution, I will not appeal from the decision.


                           ODE TO MY COUNTRY.
                              MDCCXCVIII.

                           S. 1.

         Britons! hands and hearts prepare:
           The angry tempest threatens nigh,
         Deep-toned thunders roll in air,
           Lightnings thwart the livid sky;
       Throned upon the wingéd storm,
       Fell DESOLATION rears her ghastly form,
       Waves her black signal to her Hell-born brood,
       And lures them thus with promised blood:

                           A. 1.

         “Drive, my sons, the storm amain!
           Lo, the hated, envied land,
         Where PIETY and ORDER reign,
           And Freedom dares maintain her stand.
       Have ye not sworn, by night and hell,
       These from the earth for ever to expel?
       Rush on, resistless, to your destined prey,
       Death and rapine point the way.”

                           E. 1.

         Britons! stand firm! with stout and dauntless heart
           Meet unappall’d the threatening boaster’s rage;
         Yours is the great, the unconquerable part,
           For your loved hearths and altars to engage,
       And sacred LIBERTY, more dear than life—
       Yours be the triumph in the glorious strife.
       Shall theft and murder braver deeds excite
       Than honest scorn of shame and heavenly love of right?

                           S. 2.

         Turn the bright historic page!
           Still in glory’s tented field,
         Albion’s arms, for many an age,
           Have taught proud Gallia’s bands to yield.
       Are not WE the sons of those
       Whose steel-clad sires pursued the insulting foes,
       E’en to the centre of their wide domain,
       And bowed them to a BRITON’S reign?[259]

                           A. 2.

         Kings, in modest triumph led,
           Graced the SABLE VICTOR’S arms:[260]
         His conquering lance, the battle’s dread;—
           His courtesy the conquered charms.
       The lion-heart soft pity knows,
       To raise with soothing cares his prostrate foes;
       The vanquished head true valour ne’er oppress’d,
       Nor shunn’d to succour the distress’d.

                           E. 2.

         Spirit of great ELIZABETH! inspire
           High thoughts, high deeds, worthy our ancient fame;
         Breathe through our ardent ranks the patriot fire,
           Kindled at Freedom’s ever-hallowed flame;
       Baffled and scorned, the Iberian tyrant found,
       Though half a world his iron sceptre bound,
       The gallant Amazon could sweep away,
       Armed with her people’s love, the “INVINCIBLE” array.[261]

                           S. 3.

         The BOLD USURPER[262] firmly held
           The sword by splendid treasons gained;
         And Gallia’s fiery genius quelled,
           And Spain’s presumptuous claims restrained:
       When lust of sway, by flattery fed,[263]
       To venturous deeds the youthful monarch led,
       In the full flow of victory’s swelling tide
       Britain checked his power and pride.

                           A. 3.

         To the great BATAVIAN’S name[264]
           Ceaseless hymns of triumph raise!
         Scourge of tyrants, let his fame
           Live in songs of grateful praise.
       Thy turrets, BLENHEIM,[265] glittering to the sun,
       Tell of bright fields from warlike Gallia won;
       Tell how the mighty monarch mourned in vain
       His impious wish the world to chain.

                           E. 3.

         And ye famed heroes, late retired to heaven,
           Whose setting glories still the skies illume,
         Bend from the blissful seats to virtue given—
           Avert your long-defended country’s doom.
       Earth from her utmost bounds shall wondering tell
       How victory’s meed ye gained, or conquering fell;
       Britain’s dread thunders bore from pole to pole,
       Wherever man is found, or refluent oceans roll.

                           S. 4.

         Names embalmed in honour’s shrine,
           Sacred to immortal praise,
         Patterns of glory, born to shine
           In breathing arts or pictured lays:
       See WOLFE, by yielding numbers pressed,
       Expiring smile, and sink on victory’s breast!
       See MINDEN’S plains and BISCAY’S billowy bay
       Deeds of deathless fame display.

                           A. 4.

         O! tread with awe the sacred gloom,
           Patriot Virtue’s last retreat;
         Where Glory, on the trophied tomb,
           Joys their merit to repeat;
       There CHATHAM lies, whose master-hand
       Guided through seven bright years the mighty band,
       That round his urn, where grateful Memory weeps,
       Each in his hallowed marble sleeps.

                           E. 4.

       Her brand accursed when civil discord hurled,[266]
         Britain alone the united world withstood,
       RODNEY his fortune-favoured sails unfurled,
         And led three nation’s chiefs to Thames’s flood.
       Firm on his rock the VETERAN HERO[267] stands;
         Beneath his feet unheeded thunders roar;
       Smiling in scorn, he sees the glittering bands
         Fly with repulse and shame old CALPE’S hopeless shore.

                           S. 5.

         Heirs or partners of their toils,
           Matchless heroes still we own;
         Crowned with honourable spoils
           From the leagued nations won.
       On their high prows they proudly stand,
       The godlike guardians of their native land;
       Lords of the mighty deep triumphant ride,
       Wealth and victory at their side.

                           A. 5.

         Loyal, bold, and generous bands,
           Strenuous in their country’s cause,
         Guard their cultivated lands,
           Their altars, liberties, and laws.
       On his firm, deep-founded throne,
       Great BRUNSWICK sits—a name to fear unknown,
       With brow erect commands the glorious strife,
       Unawed, and prodigal of life.

                           E. 5.

         Sons of fair Freedom’s long-descended line,
           To Gallia’s yoke shall Britons bend the neck?—
         No; in her cause though fate and hell combine
           To bury all in universal wreck,
       Of this fair Isle to make one dreary waste,
       Her greatness in her ruins only traced,—
       Arts, commerce, arms, sunk in one common grave—
       The man who dares to die will never live a slave.

[Illustration]




                               No. XXIX.


                                                           May 28, 1798.

In a former number, we were enabled, by the communication of a classical
correspondent, to compliment CITIZEN MUSKEIN with an Address to his
Gun-boats, imitated from a favourite Ode of Horace. Another (or perhaps
the same) hand has obligingly furnished us with a composition, which we
have no doubt will be equally acceptable to the citizen to whom it is
addressed.


                      ODE TO THE DIRECTOR MERLIN.
                          HORACE, B. I., O. V.

               Who now from Naples, Rome, or Berlin,
               Creeps to thy blood-stained den, O MERLIN,
                 With diplomatic gold?—to whom
                 Dost thou give audience _en costume_?

               _King Citizen!_—How sure each state
               That bribes thy love shall feel thy hate;
                 Shall see the democratic storm
                 Her commerce, laws, and arts deform.

               How credulous, to hope the bribe
               Could purchase peace from MERLIN’S tribe!
                 Whom, faithless as the waves or wind,
                 No oaths restrain, no treaties bind.

               For us—beneath yon SACRED ROOF,
               The NAVAL FLAGS and arms of proof,
                 By British valour nobly bought,
                 Show how true safety must be sought!

  [THIERS, in his _History of the French Revolution_, frequently
  asserts the incorruptibility (with the exception of BARRAS) of the
  French Directory. But ALISON, in his History, exposes the
  extraordinary conduct of M. DE TALLEYRAND, then Minister of Foreign
  Affairs, towards the Envoys from the United States of America, who
  complained that an immense number of American vessels had been
  seized by the French Government under a decree of Jan., 1798, which
  directed that all ships having for their cargoes, in whole or in
  part, any English merchandise, should be held lawful prize, whoever
  was the proprietor thereof, from the single circumstance of its
  coming from England or its foreign settlements. The Envoys were told
  that nothing could be done till their Government had advanced a sum
  equal to 1,280,000_l._ as a loan, and 50,000_l._ as a douceur to the
  Directors. These terms were, of course, indignantly rejected. The
  Hanse Towns, too, only obtained licenses to navigate the high seas
  by the secret payment of 150,000_l_. to the Republican rulers.—ED.]


                   [LYRICS OF HORACE. BOOK I., ODE V.

                   TRANSLATED BY ARCHDEACON WRANGHAM.

                 What slender youth, all essenced o’er,
               In sweet alcove or rosy bower,
               Now woos thee, Pyrrha, to be kind?
               For whom these tresses dost thou bind,
               Thus simply neat? O how shall he,
               Poor youth! bewail the boisterous sea,
               Rough with black tempests! How accuse
               Capricious Gods, and broken vows!

                 Fond dupe! he hopes—so sweet that kiss—
               Thou’lt still be witching, still be his!
               What treacherous gales beset his way,
               Ah! little knows he! Hapless they,
               Who ne’er thy faithless smiles have tried!
               —That I have ’scaped the whelming tide,
               A tablet and my dripping vest,
               Hung up in Neptune’s fane, attest.—ED.]




                                No. XXX.


                                                           June 4, 1798.

Our ingenious correspondent, MR. HIGGINS, has not been idle. The
deserved popularity of the extracts which we have been enabled to give
from his two didactic poems, the _Progress of Man_, and the _Loves of
the Triangles_, has obtained for us the communications of several other
works which he has in hand, all framed upon the same principle, and
directed to the same end. The propagation of the New System of
Philosophy forms, as he has himself candidly avowed to us, the main
object of all his writings. A system, comprehending not politics only
and religion, but morals and manners, and generally whatever goes to the
composition or holding together of human society; in all of which a
total change and revolution is absolutely necessary (as he contends) for
the advancement of our common nature to its true dignity, and to the
summit of that perfection which the combination of matter, called MAN,
is by its innate energies capable of attaining.

Of this system, while the sublimer and more scientific branches are to
be taught by the splendid and striking medium of didactic poetry, or
_ratiocination in rhyme_, illustrated with such paintings and
portraitures of essences and their attributes as may lay hold of the
imagination while they perplex the judgment;—the more ordinary parts,
such as relate to the conduct of common life and the regulation of
social feelings, are naturally the subject of a less elevated style of
writing; of a style which speaks to the eye as well as to the ear,—in
short, of dramatic poetry and scenic representation.

“With this view,” says MR. HIGGINS (for we love to quote the very words
of this extraordinary and indefatigable writer),—“with this view,” says
he, in a letter dated from his study in St. Mary Axe, the window of
which looks upon the parish pump,—“with this view I have turned my
thoughts more particularly to the German stage, and have composed—in
imitation of the most popular pieces of that country, which have already
met with so general reception and admiration in this—a Play; which, if
it has a proper run, will, I think, do much to unhinge the present
notions of men with regard to the obligations of civil society, and to
substitute, in lieu of a sober contentment, and regular discharge of the
duties incident to each man’s particular situation, a wild desire of
undefinable latitude and extravagance,—an aspiration after shapeless
somethings that can neither be described nor understood,—a contemptuous
disgust at all that _is_, and a persuasion that nothing is as it ought
to be;—to operate, in short, a general discharge of every man (in his
own estimation) from every tie which laws, divine or human, which local
customs, immemorial habits, and multiplied examples, impose upon him;
and to set them about doing what they like, where they like, when they
like, and how they like,—without reference to any law but their own
will, or to any consideration of how others may be affected by their
conduct.

“When this is done, my dear sir,” continues Mr. H. (for he writes very
confidentially)—“you see that a great step is gained towards the
dissolution of the frame of every existing community. I say nothing of
_Governments_, as _their_ fall is of course implicated in that of the
social system;—and you have long known that I hold every Government
(that acts by coercion and restriction—by laws made by the few to bind
the many) as a _malum in se_,—an evil to be eradicated,—a nuisance to be
abated,—by force, if force be practicable; if not, by the artillery of
reason, by pamphlets, speeches, toasts at club-dinners, and though last,
not least, by didactic poems.

“But where would be the advantage of the destruction of this or that
Government, if the form of Society itself were to be suffered to
continue such as that another must necessarily arise out of it and over
it?—Society, my dear sir, in its present state, is a _hydra_. Cut off
one head,—another presently sprouts out, and your labour is to begin
again. At best you can only hope to find it a _polypus_;—where, by
cutting off the _head_, you are sometimes fortunate enough to find a
_tail_ (which answers all the same purposes) spring up in its place.
This, we know, has been the case in France; the only country in which
the great experiment of regeneration has been tried with anything like a
fair chance of success.

“Destroy the frame of society,—decompose its parts,—and see the elements
fighting one against another,—insulated and individual,—every man for
himself (stripped of prejudice, of bigotry, and of feeling for others)
against the remainder of his species;—and there is then some hope of a
totally new _order of things_,—of a _Radical Reform_ in the present
corrupt system of the world.

“The German Theatre appears to proceed on this judicious plan. And I
have endeavoured to contribute my mite towards extending its effect and
its popularity. There is one obvious advantage attending this mode of
teaching;—that it can proportion the infractions of law, religion, or
morality, which it recommends, to the capacity of a reader or spectator.
If you tell a student, or an apprentice, or a merchant’s clerk, of the
virtue of a Brutus, or of the splendour of a La Fayette, you may excite
his _desire_ to be equally conspicuous; but how is he to set about it?
Where is he to find the tyrant to murder? How is he to provide the
monarch to be imprisoned, and the national guards to be reviewed on a
white horse?—But paint the beauties of _forgery_ to him in glowing
colours;—show him that the presumption of virtue is in favour of rapine
and occasional murder on the highway—and he presently understands you.
The highway is at hand—the till or the counter is within reach. These
_haberdashers’ heroics_ come home to the business and the bosoms of
men.—And you may readily make ten _footpads_, where you would not have
materials nor opportunity for a single _tyrannicide_.

“The subject of the piece which I herewith transmit to you is taken from
common or middling life; and its merit is that of teaching the most
lofty truths in the most humble style, and deducing them from the most
ordinary occurrences. Its moral is obvious and easy; and is one
frequently inculcated by the German dramas which I have had the good
fortune to see; being no other than ‘_the reciprocal duties of one or
more husbands to one or more wives, and to the children who may happen
to arise out of this complicated and endearing connection_’. The plot,
indeed, is formed by the combination of the plots of _two_ of the most
popular of these plays (in the same way as Terence was wont to combine
two stories of Menander’s). The characters are such as the admirers of
these plays will recognise for their familiar acquaintances. There are
the usual ingredients of imprisonments, post-houses and horns, and
appeals to angels and devils. I have omitted only the _swearing_, to
which English ears are not yet sufficiently accustomed.

“I transmit at the same time a _Prologue_, which in some degree breaks
the matter to the audience. About the song of Rogero, at the end of the
first Act, I am less anxious than about any other part of the
performance, as it is, in fact, literally translated from the
composition of a young German friend of mine, an _Illuminé_, of whom I
bought the original for three-and-sixpence. It will be a satisfaction to
those of your readers who may not at first sight hit upon the tune, to
learn that it is setting by a hand of the first eminence.—I send also a
rough sketch of the plot, and a few occasional notes.—The _geography_ is
by the young gentleman of the _Morning Chronicle_.”


                THE ROVERS; OR, THE DOUBLE ARRANGEMENT.

                           Dramatis Personæ.

  PRIOR of the ABBEY OF QUEDLINBURGH, very corpulent and cruel.

  ROGERO, a prisoner in the Abbey, in love with MATILDA POTTINGEN.

  CASIMERE, a Polish emigrant, in Dembrowsky’s legion, married to
    CECILIA, but having several children by MATILDA.

  PUDDINGFIELD and BEEFINGTON, English noblemen, exiled by the tyranny
    of King John, previous to the signature of Magna Charta.

  RODERIC, Count of SAXE WEIMAR, a bloody tyrant, with red hair, and an
    amorous complexion.

  GASPAR, the minister of the Count—author of ROGERO’S confinement.

  YOUNG POTTINGEN, brother to MATILDA.

  MATILDA POTTINGEN, in love with ROGERO, and mother to CASIMERE’S
    children.

  CECILIA MÜCKENFELD, wife to CASIMERE.

  Landlady, Waiter, Grenadiers, Troubadours, &c., &c.

  PANTALOWSKY and BRITCHINDA, children of MATILDA, by CASIMERE.

  JOACHIM, JABEL, and AMARANTHA, children of MATILDA, by ROGERO.

  CHILDREN OF CASIMERE AND CECILIA, with their respective Nurses.

  SEVERAL CHILDREN—fathers and mothers unknown.

  _The Scene lies in the town of Weimar, and the neighbourhood of the
                        Abbey of Quedlinburgh._

              _Time from the 12th to the present century._


                             PROLOGUE.[268]

                             IN CHARACTER.

    Too long the triumphs of our early times,
  With civil discord and with regal crimes,
  Have stain’d these boards; while Shakespeare’s pen has
  shown
  Thoughts, manners, men, to modern days unknown.
  Too long have Rome and Athens been _the rage_;

                                                            [_Applause._

  And classic Buskins soil’d a British stage.

    To-night our bard, who scorns pedantic rules,
  His plot has borrow’d from the German schools;
  The German schools—where no dull maxims bind
  The bold expansion of the electric mind.
  Fix’d to no period, circled by no space,
  He leaps the flaming bounds of time and place.
  Round the dark confines of the forest raves,
  With _gentle_ Robbers[269] stocks his gloomy caves;
  Tells how Prime Ministers[270] are shocking things,
  And _reigning Dukes_ as bad as tyrant Kings;
  How to _two_ swains[271] _one_ nymph her vows may give,
  And how _two_ damsels[271] with _one_ lover live!
  Delicious scenes!—such scenes _our_ bard displays,
  Which, crown’d with German, sue for British, praise.

    Slow are the steeds, that through Germania’s roads
  With hempen rein the slumbering post-boy goads;
  Slow is the slumbering post-boy, who proceeds
  Thro’ deep sands floundering on those tardy steeds;
  More slow, more tedious, from his husky throat,
  Twangs through the twisted horn the struggling note.

    These truths confess’d—Oh! yet, ye travell’d few,
  Germania’s _plays_ with eyes unjaundiced view!
  View and approve!—though in each passage fine
  The faint translation[272] mock the genuine line;
  Though the nice ear the erring sight belie,
  For _U twice dotted_ is pronounced like _I_;[272]      [_Applause._
  Yet oft the scene shall nature’s fire impart,
  Warm _from_ the breast, and glowing _to_ the heart!

  Ye travell’d few, attend!—On _you_ our bard
  Builds his fond hope! Do you his genius guard!

                                                            [_Applause._

  Nor let succeeding generations say
  A British audience _damn’d_ a German play!

                                        [_Loud and continued Applauses._

  _Flash of lightning.—The ghost of_ PROLOGUE’S GRANDMOTHER _by the
    Father’s side, appears to soft music, in a white tiffany
    riding-hood._ PROLOGUE _kneels to receive her blessing, which she
    gives in a solemn and affecting manner, the audience clapping and
    crying all the while.—Flash of lightning._—PROLOGUE _and his_
    GRANDMOTHER _sink through the trap-doors._


                THE ROVERS; OR, THE DOUBLE ARRANGEMENT.


                            ACT I. SCENE I.

  _Scene represents a room at an inn, at Weimar—On one side of the stage
    the bar-room, with jellies, lemons in nets, syllabubs_, _and part of
    a cold roast fowl, &c.—On the opposite side, a window looking into
    the street, through which persons (inhabitants of Weimar) are seen
    passing to and fro in apparent agitation_—MATILDA _appears in a
    great coat and riding-habit, seated at the corner of the
    dinner-table, which is covered with a clean huckaback cloth; plates
    and napkins, with buck’s-horn-handled knives and forks, are laid as
    if for four persons._

MAT. Is it impossible for me to have dinner sooner?

LAND. Madam, the Brunswick post-waggon is not yet come in, and the
ordinary is never before two o’clock.

MAT. [_With a look expressive of disappointment, but immediately
recomposing herself._] Well, then, I must have patience. [_Exit
Landlady._] Oh Casimere!—How often have the thoughts of thee served to
amuse these moments of expectation!—What a difference, alas!—Dinner—it
is taken away as soon as over, and we regret it not!—It returns again
with the return of appetite.—The beef of to-morrow will succeed to the
mutton of to-day, as the mutton of to-day succeeded to the veal of
yesterday. But when once the heart has been occupied by a beloved
object, in vain would we attempt to supply the chasm by another. How
easily are our desires transferred from dish to dish!—Love only, dear,
delusive, delightful love, restrains our wandering appetites, and
confines them to a particular gratification!...

  _Post-horn blows; re-enter_ LANDLADY.

LAND. Madam, the post-waggon is just come in with only a single
gentlewoman.

MAT. Then show her up—and let us have dinner instantly; [_Landlady
going_] and remember—[_after a moment’s recollection, and with great
earnestness_]—remember the toasted cheese.

                                                       [_Exit Landlady._

 CECILIA _enters, in a brown cloth riding-dress, as if just alighted from
                            the post-waggon._

MAT. Madam, you seem to have had an unpleasant journey, if I may judge
from the dust on your riding-habit.

CEC. The way was dusty, madam, but the weather was delightful. It
recalled to me those blissful moments when the rays of desire first
vibrated through my soul.

MAT. [_Aside._] Thank Heaven! I have at last found a heart which is in
unison with my own. [_To Cecilia_]—Yes, I understand you—the first
pulsation of sentiment—the silver tones upon the yet unsounded harp....

CEC. The dawn of life—when this blossom [_putting her hand upon her
heart_] first expanded its petals to the penetrating dart of love!

MAT. Yes—the time—the golden time, when the first beams of the morning
meet and embrace one another!—The blooming blue upon the yet unplucked
plum!...

CEC. Your countenance grows animated, my dear madam.

MAT. And yours too is glowing with illumination.

CEC. I had long been looking out for a congenial spirit!—my heart was
withered—but the beams of yours have rekindled it.

MAT. A sudden thought strikes me—Let us swear an eternal friendship.

CEC. Let us agree to live together!

MAT. Willingly.

                                       [_With rapidity and earnestness._

CEC. Let us embrace.

                                                        [_They embrace._

MAT. Yes; I too have loved!—you, too, like me, have been forsaken.

                  [_Doubtingly, and as if with a desire to be informed._

CEC. Too true!

BOTH. Ah these men! these men!

  LANDLADY _enters, and places a leg of mutton on the table, with sour
    krout and prune sauce; then a small dish of black puddings_—CECILIA
    _and_ MATILDA _appear to take no notice of her._

MAT. Oh, Casimere!

CEC. [_Aside._] Casimere! that name!—Oh, my heart, how it is distracted
with anxiety.

MAT. Heavens! Madam, you turn pale.

CEC. Nothing—a slight megrim—with your leave, I will retire—

MAT. I will attend you.

  [_Exeunt_ MATILDA _and_ CECILIA; _Manent_ LANDLADY _and_ WAITER, _with
    the dinner on the table._

LAND. Have you carried the dinner to the prisoner in the vaults of the
abbey?

WAITER. Yes—Pease soup, as usual—with the scrag end of a neck of mutton.
The emissary of the Count was here again this morning, and offered me a
large sum of money if I would consent to poison him.

LAND. Which you refused?

                                         [_With hesitation and anxiety._

WAITER. Can you doubt it?

                                                    [_With indignation._

LAND. [_Recovering herself, and drawing up with an expression of
dignity._] The conscience of a poor man is as valuable to him as that of
a prince....

WAITER. It ought to be still more so, in proportion as it is generally
more pure.

LAND. Thou say’st truly, Job.

WAITER. [_With enthusiasm._] He who can spurn at wealth when proffered
as the price of crime, is greater than a prince.

  _Post-horn blows.—Enter_ CASIMERE _(in a travelling dress, a light
    blue great coat with large metal buttons, his hair in a long queue,
    but twisted at the end; a large Kevenhuller hat; a cane in his
    hand)._

CAS. Here, Waiter, pull off my boots, and bring me a pair of slippers.
[_Exit Waiter._] And hark’ye, my lad, a basin of water [_rubbing his
hands_] and a bit of soap. I have not washed since I began my journey.

WAITER. [_Answering from behind the door._] Yes, Sir.

CAS. Well, Landlady, what company are we to have?

LAND. Only two gentlewomen, Sir.—They are just stept into the next
room—they will be back again in a minute.

CAS. Where do they come from?

  [_All this while the_ WAITER _re-enters with the basin and water;_
    CASIMERE _pulls off his boots, takes a napkin from the table, and
    washes his face and hands._

LAND. There is one of them, I think, comes from Nuremburgh.

CAS. [_Aside._] From Nuremburgh! [_with eagerness_] her name!

LAND. Matilda.

CAS. [_Aside._] How does this idiot woman torment me!—What else?

LAND. I can’t recollect.

CAS. Oh, agony!

                                          [_In a paroxysm of agitation._

WAITER. See here, her name upon the travelling trunk—Matilda Pottingen.

CAS. Ecstasy! ecstasy!

                                                [_Embracing the Waiter._

LAND. You seem to be acquainted with the lady—shall I call her?

CAS. Instantly—instantly—tell her her loved, her long-lost—tell her——

LAND. Shall I tell her dinner is ready?

CAS. Do so—and in the meanwhile I will look after my portmanteau.

                                                    [_Exeunt severally._

  _Scene changes to a subterranean vault in the Abbey of Quedlinburgh,
    with coffins, ’scutcheons, death’s heads and crossbones—toads and
    other loathsome reptiles are seen traversing the obscurer parts of
    the stage._—ROGERO _appears, in chains, in a suit of rusty armour,
    with his beard grown, and a cap of a grotesque form upon his
    head—beside him a crock, or pitcher, supposed to contain his daily
    allowance of sustenance.—A long silence, during which the wind is
    heard to whistle through the caverns._—ROGERO _rises, and comes
    slowly forward, with his arms folded._

ROG. Eleven years! it is now eleven years since I was first
immured in this living sepulchre—the cruelty of a Minister—the
perfidy of a Monk—yes, Matilda! for thy sake—alive amidst the
dead—chained—coffined—confined—cut off from the converse of my
fellow-men. Soft!—what have we here! [_stumbles over a bundle of
sticks._] This cavern is so dark that I can scarcely distinguish
the objects under my feet. Oh—the register of my captivity. Let me
see; how stands the account? [_Takes up the sticks, and turns them
over with a melancholy air; then stands silent for a few minutes,
as if absorbed in calculation._]—Eleven years and fifteen
days!—Hah! the twenty-eighth of August! How does the recollection
of it vibrate on my heart! It was on this day that I took my last
leave of my Matilda. It was a summer evening; her melting hand
seemed to dissolve in mine, as I prest it to my bosom. Some demon
whispered me that I should never see her more. I stood gazing on
the hated vehicle which was conveying her away for ever. The tears
were petrified under my eyelids. My heart was crystallized with
agony. Anon—I looked along the road. The diligence seemed to
diminish every instant; I felt my heart beat against its prison,
as if anxious to leap out and overtake it. My soul whirled round
as I watched the rotation of the hinder wheels. A long trail of
glory followed after her, and mingled with the dust; it was the
emanation of Divinity, luminous with love and beauty, like the
splendour of the setting sun; but it told me that the sun of my
joys was sunk for ever. Yes, here in the depths of an eternal
dungeon, in the nursing cradle of hell, the suburbs of perdition,
in a nest of demons, where despair in vain sits brooding over the
putrid eggs of hope; where agony woos the embrace of death; where
patience, beside the bottomless pool of despondency, sits angling
for impossibilities. Yet, even _here_, to behold her, to embrace
her! Yes, Matilda, whether in this dark abode, amidst toads and
spiders, or in a royal palace, amidst the more loathsome reptiles
of a court, would be indifferent to me; angels would shower down
their hymns of gratulation upon our heads, while fiends would envy
the eternity of suffering love.... Soft, what air was that? it
seemed a sound of more than human warblings. Again! [_listens
attentively for some minutes._] Only the wind; it is well,
however; it reminds me of that melancholy air, which has so often
solaced the hours of my captivity. Let me see whether the damps of
this dungeon have not yet injured my guitar. [_Takes his guitar,
tunes it, and begins the following air, with a full accompaniment
of violins from the orchestra._

                       [_Air, Lanterna Magica._]


                                 SONG.

                               BY ROGERO.

                      I.

  Whene’er with haggard eyes I view
    This dungeon that I’m rotting in,
  I think of those companions true
    Who studied with me at the U—
          —niversity of Gottingen—
          —niversity of Gottingen.

  [_Weeps, and pulls out a blue kerchief, with which he wipes his eyes;
    gazing tenderly at it, he proceeds_—

                      II.

  Sweet kerchief, check’d with heavenly blue,
    Which once my love sat knotting in!—
  Alas! Matilda _then_ was true!
    At least I thought so at the U—
          —niversity of Gottingen—
          —niversity of Gottingen.

  [_At the repetition of this line_ ROGERO _clanks his chains in
    cadence._

                      III.

  Barbs! Barbs! alas! how swift you flew
    Her neat post-waggon trotting in!
  Ye bore Matilda from my view;
    Forlorn I languish’d at the U—
          —niversity of Gottingen—
          —niversity of Gottingen.

                      IV.

  This faded form! this pallid hue!
    This blood my veins is clotting in,
  My years are many—they were few
    When first I entered at the U—
          —niversity of Gottingen—
          —niversity of Gottingen.

                      V.

  There first for thee my passion grew,
    Sweet! sweet Matilda Pottingen!
  Thou wast the daughter of my tu—
    —tor, law professor at the U—
          —niversity of Gottingen—
          —niversity of Gottingen.

                      VI.

  Sun, moon, and thou vain world, adieu,
    That kings and priests are plotting in:
  Here doomed to starve on water gru—
    —el,[273] never shall I see the U—
          —niversity of Gottingen—
          —niversity of Gottingen.

  [_During the last stanza_ ROGERO _dashes his head repeatedly against
    the walls of his prison; and, finally, so hard as to produce a
    visible contusion; he then throws himself on the floor in an agony.
    The curtain drops; the music still continuing to play till it is
    wholly fallen._

  [The character of ROGERO is a quiz upon SIR ROBERT ADAIR, who
  received his education at Göttingen, and fell in love with his
  tutor’s daughter. His relative, LORD ALBEMARLE, says in his
  _Reminiscences_: “Throughout life my kinsman was an enthusiastic
  admirer of the fair sex, which he generally ‘loved, not wisely, but
  too well’”. He married, in 1805, Mdlle. Angélique Gabrielle,
  daughter of the Marquis d’Hazincourt and the Comtesse de Champagne.

  ADAIR was the son of Mr. Robert Adair, sergeant-surgeon to K. George
  III., by his wife LADY CAROLINE KEPPEL, daughter of Wm. Anne, second
  Earl of Albemarle. He was educated at Westminster School and
  Göttingen University; called to the Bar, but never practised. He
  contested Camelford in 1796; and was M.P. for Appleby, 1799–1802,
  for Camelford, 1802–1812. He was sent by FOX as Minister
  Plenipotentiary to Vienna in 1806; and by his old adversary CANNING
  to Constantinople in 1808; and also to Berlin. He was Ambassador to
  Constantinople, 1809–11, and to Belgium, 1831–5. He was a facile
  writer, and wrote several spirited pamphlets, including defences of
  his relatives, Francis, Duke of Bedford, and Admiral Keppel, Fox,
  and other Whigs. He contributed to the _Political Eclogues_ a poem
  called _Margaret Nicholson_, in which George III., Pitt, Jenkinson,
  &c., were ridiculed, and the _Song of Scrutina_ (on the “Westminster
  Scrutiny”), in the style of Ossian, in the _Probationary Odes for
  the Laureateship_. He was the author also of an account of his
  _Mission to the Court of Vienna_; and his _Negotiations for the
  Peace of the Dardanelles_: 3 vols., 8vo. For his services in the
  latter business he was made G.C.B. He was born 24th May, 1763, and
  died 3rd Oct., 1855.

  There is a curious circumstance connected with the composition of
  this song, the first five stanzas of which were written by CANNING.
  Having been accidentally seen, previous to its publication, by PITT,
  who was cognisant of the proceedings of the “Anti-Jacobin” writers,
  he was so amused with it, that he took up a pen and composed the
  last stanza on the spot.—ED.]

  [This drama was produced at the Haymarket Theatre, July 26, 1811,
  with alterations and additions, and some introductory matter, which
  contained smart hits at the Quadrupeds, which then desecrated the
  stage of Covent Garden Theatre. Liston performed _Rogero_; Munden,
  _Casimere_; Mrs. Glover, _Matilda_; Mrs. Gibbs, _Cecilia_. The
  following Prologue, written by George Colman the younger, in
  imitation of Pope’s prologue to _Cato_, was spoken by Elliston:—

         To lull the soul by spurious strokes of art,
         To warp the genius, and mislead the heart;
         To make mankind revere wives gone astray,[274]
         Love pious sons who rob on the highway;[275]
         For this the foreign muses trod our stage
         Commanding _German schools_ to be the rage.
         Hail to such schools! Oh, fine _false feeling_, hail!
         Thou badst _non-natural nature_ to prevail;
         Through thee, _soft super-sentiment_ arose,
         Musk to the mind like civet to the nose;
         Till fainting taste (as invalids do wrong),
         Snuff’d the sick perfume, and grew weakly strong.
         Dear Johnny Bull! you boast much resolution,
         With, thanks to Heaven! a glorious Constitution:
         Your taste, recovered half from foreign quacks,
         Takes airings, now, on English horses’ backs;
         While every modern bard may raise his name,
         If not on _lasting praise_, on _stable fame_.
         Think that to Germans you have given no check,
         Think how each actor hors’d has risk’d his neck;
         You’ve shewn them favour: Oh, then, once more shew it
         To this night’s _Anglo-German, Horse-Play_ Poet!—ED.]

[Illustration]




                               No. XXXI.


                                                        June 11, 1798.

  We have received, in the course of the last week, several long, and
  to say the truth, dull letters, from unknown hands, reflecting in
  very severe terms on MR. HIGGINS, for having, as it is affirmed,
  attempted to pass upon the world, as a faithful sample of the
  productions of the German theatre, a performance no way resembling
  any of those pieces which have so late excited, and which bid fair
  to engross, the admiration of the British public.

  As we cannot but consider ourselves as the guardians of MR.
  HIGGINS’S literary reputation, in respect to every work of his which
  is conveyed to the world through the medium of our paper (though,
  what we think of the danger of his principles we have already
  sufficiently explained for ourselves, and have, we trust, succeeded
  in putting our readers upon their guard against them)—we hold
  ourselves bound not only to justify the fidelity of the imitation,
  but (contrary to our original intention) to give a further specimen
  of it in our present number, in order to bring the question more
  fairly to issue between our author and his calumniators.

  In the first place we are to observe, that MR. HIGGINS professes to
  have taken his notion of German plays wholly from the translations
  which have appeared in our language. If _they_ are totally
  dissimilar from the originals, Mr. H. may undoubtedly have been led
  into error; but the fault is in the translators, not in him. That he
  does not differ widely from the models which he proposed to himself,
  we have it in our power to prove satisfactorily, and might have done
  so in our last number, by subjoining to each particular passage of
  his play the scene in some one or other of the German plays which he
  had in view when he wrote it. These parallel passages were
  faithfully pointed out to us by Mr. H. with that candour which marks
  his character; and if they were suppressed by us (as in truth they
  were), on our heads be the blame, whatever it may be. Little,
  indeed, did we think of the imputation which the omission would
  bring upon Mr. H., as in fact our principal reason for it was the
  apprehension that, from the extreme closeness of the imitation in
  most instances, he would lose in praise for invention more than he
  would gain in credit for fidelity.

  The meeting between Matilda and Cecilia, for example, in the first
  act of _The Rovers_, and their sudden intimacy, has been censured as
  unnatural. Be it so. It is taken, _almost word for word_, from
  _Stella_, a German (or professedly a German) piece now much in
  vogue; from which also the catastrophe of MR. HIGGINS’S play is in
  part borrowed, so far as relates to the agreement to which the
  ladies come, as the reader will see by and bye, to share Casimere
  between them.

  The dinner-scene is copied partly from the published translation of
  _The Stranger_, and partly from the first scene of _Stella_. The
  song of Rogero, with which the first act concludes, is admitted on
  all hands to be in the very first taste; and if no German original
  is to be found for it, so much the worse for the credit of German
  literature.

  An objection has been made by one anonymous letter-writer to the
  names of Puddingfield and Beefington, as little likely to have been
  assigned to English characters by any author of taste or
  discernment. In answer to this objection we have, in the first
  place, to admit, that a small, and we hope not an unwarrantable,
  alteration has been made by us since the MS. has been in our hands.
  These names stood originally Puddincrantz and Beefinstern, which
  sounded to our ears as being liable, especially the latter, to a
  ridiculous inflection—a difficulty that could only be removed by
  furnishing them with English terminations. With regard to the more
  substantial syllables of the names, our author proceeded, in all
  probability, on the authority of Goldoni, who, though not a German,
  is an Italian writer of considerable reputation; and who, having
  heard that the English were distinguished for their love of liberty
  and beef, has judiciously compounded the two words _Runnymede_ and
  _Beef_, and thereby produced an English nobleman, whom he styles
  _Lord Runnybeef_.

  To dwell no longer on particular passages, the best way perhaps of
  explaining the whole scope and view of Mr. H.’s imitation will be to
  transcribe the short sketch of the plot which that gentleman
  transmitted to us, together with his drama, and which it is perhaps
  the more necessary to give at length, as, the limits of our paper
  not allowing of the publication of the whole piece, some general
  knowledge of its main design may be acceptable to our readers, in
  order to enable them to judge of the several extracts which we lay
  before them.


                                 PLOT.

  Rogero, son of the late minister of the Count of Saxe Weimar, having
  while he was at college, fallen desperately in love with Matilda
  Pottingen, daughter of his tutor, Doctor Engelbertus Pottingen,
  Professor of Civil Law; and Matilda evidently returning his passion,
  the Doctor, to prevent ill consequences, sends his daughter on a
  visit to her aunt in Wetteravia, where she becomes acquainted with
  Casimere, a Polish Officer, who happens to be quartered near her
  aunt’s, and has several children by him.

  Roderic, Count of Saxe Weimar, a prince of a tyrannical and
  licentious disposition, has for his Prime Minister and favourite
  Gaspar, a crafty villain, who had risen to his post by first
  ruining, and then putting to death, Rogero’s father. Gaspar,
  apprehensive of the power and popularity which the young Rogero may
  enjoy at his return to Court, seizes the occasion of his intrigue
  with Matilda (of which he is apprized officially by Doctor
  Pottingen) to procure from his master an order for the recall of
  Rogero from college, and for committing him to the care of the Prior
  of the Abbey of Quedlinburgh, a priest, rapacious, savage, and
  sensual, and devoted to Gaspar’s interests—sending at the same time
  private orders to the Prior to confine him in a dungeon.

  Here Rogero languishes many years. His daily sustenance is
  administered to him through a grated opening at the top of a cavern,
  by the landlady of the Golden Eagle at Weimar, with whom Gaspar
  contracts, in the prince’s name, for his support; intending, and
  more than once endeavouring, to corrupt the waiter to mingle poison
  with the food, in order that he may get rid of Rogero for ever.

  In the meantime, Casimere, having been called away from the
  neighbourhood of Matilda’s residence to other quarters, becomes
  enamoured of and marries Cecilia, by whom he has a family; and whom
  he likewise deserts after a few years’ cohabitation, on pretence of
  business which calls him to Kamtschatka.

  Doctor Pottingen, now grown old and infirm, and feeling the want of
  his daughter’s society, sends young Pottingen in search of her, with
  strict injunctions not to return without her; and to bring with her
  either her present lover Casimere, or, should that not be possible,
  Rogero himself, if he can find him; the Doctor having set his heart
  upon seeing his children comfortably settled before his death.
  Matilda, about the same period, quits her aunt’s in search of
  Casimere; and Cecilia, having been advertised (by an anonymous
  letter) of the falsehood of his Kamtschatka journey, sets out in the
  post-waggon on a similar pursuit.

  It is at this point of time the Play opens—with the accidental
  meeting of Cecilia and Matilda at the Inn at Weimar. Casimere
  arrives there soon after, and falls in first with Matilda, and then
  with Cecilia. Successive _éclaircissements_ take place, and an
  arrangement is finally made, by which the two ladies are to live
  jointly with Casimere.

  Young Pottingen, wearied with a few weeks’ search, during which he
  has not been able to find either of the objects of it, resolves to
  stop at Weimar, and wait events there. It so happens that he takes
  up his lodgings in the same house with Puddingfield and Beefington,
  two English noblemen, whom the tyranny of King John has obliged to
  fly from their country; and who, after wandering about the continent
  for some time, have fixed their residence at Weimar.

  The news of the signature of Magna Charta arriving, determines
  Puddingfield and Beefington to return to England. Young Pottingen
  opens his case to them, and entreats them to stay to assist him in
  the object of his search.—This they refuse; but coming to the Inn
  where they are to set off for Hamburgh, they meet Casimere, from
  whom they had both received many civilities in Poland.

  Casimere, by this time tired of his “DOUBLE ARRANGEMENT,” and having
  learnt from the waiter that Rogero is confined in the vaults of the
  neighbouring abbey _for love_, resolves to attempt his rescue, and
  to make over Matilda to him as the price of his deliverance. He
  communicates his scheme to Puddingfield and Beefington, who agree to
  assist him; as also does young Pottingen. The Waiter of the Inn,
  proving to be a _Knight Templar_ in disguise, is appointed leader of
  the expedition. A band of Troubadours, who happen to be returning
  from the Crusades, and a company of Austrian and Prussian Grenadiers
  returning from the Seven Years’ War, are engaged as troops.

  The attack on the Abbey is made with success. The Count of Weimar
  and Gaspar, who are feasting with the Prior, are seized and beheaded
  in the refectory. The Prior is thrown into the dungeon from which
  Rogero is rescued. Matilda and Cecilia rush in. The former
  recognises Rogero, and agrees to live with him. The children are
  produced on all sides—and young Pottingen is commissioned to write
  to his father, the Doctor, to detail the joyful events which have
  taken place, and to invite him to Weimar to partake of the general
  felicity.


                THE ROVERS; OR, THE DOUBLE ARRANGEMENT.


                                ACT II.

  _Scene, a Room in an ordinary Lodging-house at Weimar_—PUDDINGFIELD
    _and_ BEEFINGTON _discovered sitting at a small deal table, and
    playing at All-fours—Young_ POTTINGEN, _at another table in the
    corner of the room, with a pipe in his mouth, and a Saxon mug of a
    singular shape beside him, which he repeatedly applies to his
    lips, turning back his head, and casting his eyes towards the
    firmament—at the last trial he holds the mug for some moments in a
    directly inverted position; then replaces it on the table with an
    air of dejection, and gradually sinks into a profound slumber—the
    pipe falls from his hand, and is broken._

BEEF. I beg.

PUDD. [_Deals three cards to_ BEEFINGTON.] Are you satisfied?

BEEF. Enough; what have you?

PUDD. High, low, and the game.

BEEF. D——n! ’Tis my deal. [_Deals; turns up a knave._] One for his
heels!

                                                      [_Triumphantly._

PUDD. Is king highest?

BEEF. No. [_Sternly_] The game is mine. The knave gives it me.

PUDD. Are knaves so prosperous?

BEEF. Aye, marry are they in this world. They have the game in their
hands. Your kings are but _noddies_[276] to them.

PUDD. Ha! ha! ha! Still the same proud spirit, Beefington, which
procured thee thine exile from England.

BEEF. England! my native land! when shall I revisit thee?

  [_During this time_ PUDDINGFIELD _deals, and begins to arrange his
    hand._

BEEF. [_Continues._] Phoo, hang All-fours; what are they to a mind ill
at ease? Can they cure the heartache? Can they soothe banishment? Can
they lighten ignominy? Can All-fours do this? O, my Puddingfield! thy
limber and lightsome spirit bounds up against affliction with the
elasticity of a well-bent bow; but mine—O! mine—

  [_Falls into an agony, and sinks back in his chair. Young_
    POTTINGEN, _awakened by the noise, rises, and advances with a
    grave demeanour towards_ BEEFINGTON _and_ PUDDINGFIELD. _The
    former begins to recover._

Y. POT. What is the matter, comrades,[277] you seem agitated. Have you
lost or won?

BEEF. Lost! I have lost my country.

Y. POT. And I my sister. I came hither in search of her.

BEEF. O, England!

Y. POT. O, Matilda!

BEEF. Exiled by the tyranny of an usurper, I seek the means of
revenge, and of restoration to my country.

Y. POT. Oppressed by the tyranny of an Abbot, persecuted by the
jealousy of a Count, the betrothed husband of my sister languishes in
a loathsome captivity; her lover is fled no one knows whither, and I,
her brother, am torn from my parental roof, and from my studies in
chirurgery, to seek him and her, I know not where—to rescue Rogero, I
know not how. Comrades, your counsel. My search fruitless—my money
gone—my baggage stolen! what am I to do? In yonder Abbey—in these
dark, dank vaults, there, my friends, there lies Rogero—there
Matilda’s heart.


                               SCENE II.

                           _Enter_ WAITER.

WAITER. Sir, here is a person who desires to speak with you.

BEEF. [_Goes to the door and returns with a letter, which he opens. On
perusing it his countenance becomes illuminated, and expands
prodigiously._] Ah, my friend, what joy!

                                           [_Turning to_ PUDDINGFIELD.

PUDD. What? tell me—let your Puddingfield partake it.

BEEF. See here.

                                          [_Produces a printed paper._

PUDD. What?

                                                   [_With impatience._

BEEF. [_In a significant tone._] A newspaper!

PUDD. Ah, what sayst thou?—A newspaper!

BEEF. Yes, Puddingfield, and see here [_shows it partially_], from
England.

PUDD. [_With extreme earnestness._] Its name?

BEEF. The _Daily Advertiser_.

PUDD. Oh, ecstasy!

BEEF. [_With a dignified severity._] Puddingfield, calm
yourself—repress those transports—remember that you are a man.

PUDD. [_After a pause, with suppressed emotion._] Well, I will be—I am
calm—yet tell me, Beefington, does it contain any news?

BEEF. Glorious news, my dear Puddingfield—the Barons are
victorious—King John has been defeated—Magna Charta, that venerable
immemorial inheritance of Britons, was signed last Friday was three
weeks, the third of July, Old Style.

PUDD. I can scarce believe my ears—but let me satisfy my eyes—show me
the paragraph.

BEEF. Here it is, just above the advertisements.

PUDD. [_Reads._] “The great demand for Packwood’s Razor Straps”—

BEEF. Pshaw!—what, ever blundering!—you drive me from my patience. See
here, at the head of the column.

PUDD. [_Reads._]

              “A hireling print, devoted to the court,
              Has dared to question our veracity
              Respecting the events of yesterday;
              But by to-day’s accounts, our information
              Appears to have been perfectly correct.
              The Charter of our Liberties received
              The royal signature at five o’clock,
              When messengers were instantly dispatched
              To Cardinal Pandulfo; and their majesties,
              After partaking of a cold collation,
              Returned to Windsor.”—I am satisfied.

BEEF. Yet here again—there are some further particulars [_turns to
another part of the paper_]. “Extract of a letter from Egham—My dear
friend, we are all here in high spirits—the interesting event which
took place this morning at Runnymede, in the neighbourhood of this
town”—

PUDD. Ah, Runnymede! enough—no more—my doubts are vanished—then are we
free indeed!

BEEF. I have, besides, a letter in my pocket from our friend, the
immortal Bacon, who has been appointed Chancellor. Our outlawry is
reversed!—What says my friend—shall we return by the next packet?

PUDD. Instantly, instantly!

BOTH. Liberty! Adelaide! revenge!

  [_Exeunt—Young_ POTTINGEN _following and waving his hat, but
    obviously without much consciousness of the meaning of what has
    passed._

  _Scene changes to the outside of the Abbey.—A Summer’s Evening;
  Moonlight._

  _Companies of Austrian and Prussian Grenadiers march across the
  stage confusedly, as if returning from the Seven Years War.—Shouts
  and martial music._

  _The Abbey Gates are opened; the Monks are seen passing in
  procession, with the_ PRIOR _at their head; the choir is heard
  chanting vespers.—After which a pause; then a bell is heard, as if
  ringing for supper; soon after, a noise of singing and jollity._

  _Enter from the Abbey, pushed out of the gates by the_ PORTER, _a_
  TROUBADOUR, _with a bundle under his cloak, and a Lady under his
  arm_; TROUBADOUR _seems much in liquor, but caresses the_ FEMALE
  MINSTREL.

FEM. MIN. Trust me, Gieronimo, thou seemest melancholy. What hast thou
got under thy cloak?

TROU. Pshaw! women will be inquiring. Melancholy! not I. I will sing
thee a song, and the subject of it shall be the question—“What have I
got under my cloak?” It is a riddle, Margaret—I learnt it of an
almanac-maker at Gotha—if thou guessest it after the first stanza, thou
shalt have never a drop for thy pains. Hear me—and, d’ye mark! twirl thy
thingumbob while I sing.

FEM. MIN. ’Tis a pretty tune, and hums dolefully.

                                              [_Plays on her balalaika._

TROU.

                  I bear a secret comfort _here_,[278]

                                      [_Putting his hand on the bundle._

                      A joy I’ll ne’er impart;
                    It is not wine, it is not beer,
                      But it consoles my heart.

FEM. MIN. [_Interrupting him._] I’ll be hang’d if you don’t mean the
bottle of cherry-brandy that you stole out of the vaults in the abbey
cellar.

TROU. I mean!—Peace, wench; thou disturbest the current of my feelings—

  [FEM. MIN. _attempts to lay hold on the bottle_; TROUBADOUR _pushes
    her aside, and continues singing without interruption_.

                 This cherry-bounce, this loved noyau,
                   My drink for ever be;
                 But, sweet my love, thy wish forego;
                   I’ll give no drop to thee!

                           [_Both together._]

         TROU.   { This } cherry-bounce   { this } loved noyau,
         F. M.   { That }        „        { that }      „

         TROU.   { My   } drink for ever be;
         F. M.   { Thy  }                   „

         TROU. } But, sweet my love,      { thy wish forgo!
         F. M. }            „             { one drop bestow,

         TROU.   { I    } keep it all for { me!
         F. M.   { Nor  }        „        { thee!

  [_Exeunt struggling for the bottle, but without anger or animosity,
    the_ FEM. MIN. _appearing by degrees to obtain a superiority in the
    contest._


                             END OF ACT II.

ACT THE THIRD—contains the éclaircissements and final arrangement
between CASIMERE, MATILDA, and CECILIA; which so nearly resemble the
concluding act of _Stella_, that we forbear to lay it before our
readers.


                                ACT IV.

  _Scene, the Inn door; Diligence drawn up._—CASIMERE _appears
    superintending the package of his portmanteaus, and giving
    directions to the_ PORTERS.

                 _Enter_ BEEFINGTON _and_ PUDDINGFIELD.

PUDD. Well, Coachey, have you got two inside places?

COACH. Yes, your Honour.

PUDD. [_seems to be struck with_ CASIMERE’S _appearance. He surveys him
earnestly without paying any attention to the_ COACHMAN, _then
doubtingly pronounces_] Casimere!

CAS. [_turning round rapidly, recognizes_ PUDDINGFIELD, _and embraces
him._] My Puddingfield!

PUDD. My Casimere!

CAS. What, Beefington too! [_discovering him_]—then is my joy complete.

BEEF. Our fellow-traveller, as it seems!

CAS. Yes, Beefington—but wherefore to Hamburgh?

BEEF. Oh, Casimere[279]—to fly—to fly—to return—England—our
country—Magna Charta—it is liberated—a new æra—House of Commons—Crown
and Anchor—Opposition—

CAS. What a contrast! you are flying to liberty and your home—I, driven
from my home by tyranny, and exposed to domestic slavery in a foreign
country.

BEEF. How domestic slavery?

CAS. Too true—two wives—[_slowly, and with a dejected air—then after a
pause_]—you knew my Cecilia?

PUDD. Yes, five years ago.

CAS. Soon after that period I went upon a visit to a lady in
Wetteravia—my Matilda was under her protection. Alighting at a peasant’s
cabin, I saw her on a charitable visit, spreading bread-and-butter for
the children, in a light-blue riding-habit. The simplicity of her
appearance—the fineness of the weather—all conspired to interest me—my
heart moved to hers—as if by magnetic sympathy. We wept, embraced, and
went home together: she became the mother of my Pantalowsky. But five
years of enjoyment have not stifled the reproaches of my conscience—her
Rogero is languishing in captivity—if I could restore her to _him_!

BEEF. Let us rescue him.

CAS. Will without power[280] is like children playing at soldiers.

BEEF. Courage without power[281] is like a consumptive running footman.

CAS. Courage without power is a contradiction.[282] Ten brave men might
set all Quedlinburgh at defiance.

BEEF. Ten brave men—but where are they to be found?

CAS. I will tell you—marked you the waiter?

BEEF. The waiter?

                                                          [_doubtingly._

CAS. [_in a confidential tone_]. No waiter, but a _Knight Templar_.
Returning from the Crusade, he found his Order dissolved, and his person
proscribed. He dissembled his rank, and embraced the profession of a
waiter. I have made sure of him already. There are, besides, an
Austrian, and a Prussian grenadier. I have made them abjure their
national enmity, and they have sworn to fight henceforth in the cause of
freedom. These with young Pottingen, the waiter, and ourselves, make
seven—the Troubadour, with his two attendant minstrels, will complete
the ten.

BEEF. Now then for the execution.

                                                     [_With enthusiasm._

PUDD. Yes, my boys—for the execution.

                                           [_Clapping them on the back._

WAITER. But hist! we are observed.

TROU. Let us by a song conceal our purposes.


                      RECITATIVE ACCOMPANIED.[283]

  CAS. Hist! hist! nor let the airs that blow
        From night’s cold lungs our purpose know!

  PUDD. Let Silence, mother of the dumb,

  BEEF. Press on each lip her palsied thumb!

  WAIT. Let Privacy, allied to sin,
        That loves to haunt the tranquil inn—

  GREN. } And Conscience start, when she shall view
  THOU. } The mighty deed we mean to do!

                     GENERAL CHORUS—_Con spirito._

              Then friendship swear, ye faithful bands,
                Swear to save a shackled hero!
              See where yon abbey frowning stands!
                Rescue, rescue, brave Rogero!

              CAS. Thrall’d in a monkish tyrant’s fetters
                Shall great Rogero hopeless lie?

              Y. POT. In my pocket I have letters,
                Saying, “Help me, or I die!”

                         _Allegro Allegretto._

 CAS. BEEF. PUDD. GREN. TROU.        } Let us fly, let us fly,
 WAITER, AND POT. _with enthusiasm_. } Let us help, ere he die!

                                     [_Exeunt omnes, waving their hats._

  _Scene, the Abbey Gate, with Ditches, Drawbridges, and Spikes;
    Time, about an hour before Sunrise.—The conspirators appear as
    if in ambuscade, whispering and consulting together, in
    expectation of the signal for attack.—The_ WAITER _is habited as
    a Knight Templar, in the dress of his Order, with the Cross on
    his breast, and the scallop on his shoulder._—PUDDINGFIELD _and_
    BEEFINGTON _armed with blunderbusses and pocket-pistols; the_
    GRENADIERS _in their proper uniforms.—The_ TROUBADOUR _with his
    attendant minstrels bring up the rear; martial music: the
    conspirators come forward, and present themselves before the
    Gate of the Abbey.—Alarum; firing of pistols; the Convent appear
    in Arms upon the Walls; the Drawbridge is let down; a body of
    choristers and lay-brothers attempt a sally, but are beaten
    back, and the Verger killed.—The besieged attempt to raise the
    Drawbridge_; PUDDINGFIELD _and_ BEEFINGTON _press forward with
    alacrity, throw themselves upon the Drawbridge, and by the
    exertion of their weight preserve it in a state of depression;
    the other besiegers join them, and attempt to force the
    entrance, but without effect._—PUDDINGFIELD _makes the signal
    for the battering-ram.—Enter_ QUINTUS CURTIUS _and_ MARCUS
    CURIUS DENTATUS _in their military habits, preceded by the Roman
    Eagle; the rest of their Legion are employed in bringing forward
    a battering-ram, which plays for a few minutes to slow time,
    till the entrance is forced.—After a short resistance, the
    besiegers rush in with shouts of Victory._

  _Scene changes to the interior of the Abbey.—The inhabitants of the
    Convent are seen flying in all directions._

  _The_ COUNT OF WEIMAR _and the_ PRIOR, _who had been found feasting in
    the Refectory, are brought in manacled. The_ COUNT _appears
    transported with rage, and gnaws his chains.—The_ PRIOR _remains
    insensible, as if stupefied with grief._—BEEFINGTON _takes the keys
    of the Dungeon, which are hanging at the_ PRIOR’S _girdle, and makes
    a sign for them both to be led away into confinement.—Exeunt_ PRIOR
    _and_ COUNT, _properly guarded.—The rest of the conspirators
    disperse in search of the Dungeon where_ ROGERO _is confined._


                         END OF ACT THE FOURTH.

[Illustration]




                               No. XXXII.


                                                          June 18, 1798.

We are indebted for the following imitation of CATULLUS to a literary
correspondent. Whether it will remove the doubts we formerly expressed,
of CITIZEN MUSKEIN’S acquaintance with the classics, from the minds of
our readers, we cannot pretend to say. It is given to us as a faithful
translation from the French—as such, we present it to our readers;
premising only, that though the _Citizen Imitator_ seems to have
_Sans-culottized_ the original in two or three places, yet he everywhere
expresses himself with a _naïveté_ and truth in his verse that we seek
for in vain in many of his countrymen who have recorded their victories
and defeats in very vulgar prose.


     AN AFFECTIONATE EFFUSION OF CITIZEN MUSKEIN TO HAVRE-DE-GRACE.

            Fairest of cities,[284] which the Seine
            Surveys ’twixt Paris and the main,
            Sweet HAVRE! sweetest HAVRE, hail!
            How gladly with my tatter’d sail,[285]
            Yet trembling from this wild adventure,
            Do I thy friendly harbour enter!

              Well—now I’ve leisure, let me see
            What boats are left me; one, two, three—
            Bravo! the better half remain;
            And all my heroes are not slain.
            And if my senses don’t deceive,
            I too am safe,[286]—yes, I believe,
            Without a wound I reach thy shore
            (For I have felt myself all o’er);
            I’ve all my limbs, and, be it spoken
            With honest triumph, no bone broken.

              How pleasing is the sweet transition[287]
            From this vile Gun-boat Expedition;
            From winds and waves, and wounds and scars,
            From British soldiers, British tars,
            To his own house, where, free from danger,
            MUSKEIN may live at rack and manger;
            May stretch his limbs in his own cot,[288]
            Thankful he has not gone to pot;
            Nor for the bubble Glory strive,
            But bless himself that he’s alive!

              HAVRE,[289] sweet Havre! hail again,
            O! bid thy sons (a frolic train,[290]
            Who under CHÉNIER welcomed in,
            With dance and song, the _Guillotine_).
            In long procession seek the strand;
            For MUSKEIN now prepares to land,
            ’Scaped, Heav’n knows how, from that cursed crew
            That haunt the rocks of SAINT MARCOU.


                      [TO THE PENINSULA OF SIRMIO.
        UPON THE RETURN OF THE POET TO HIS COUNTRY HOUSE THERE.

                      _Translated_ from CATULLUS.

              Sirmio, of all the shores the gem,
                The isles where circling Neptune strays;
                Whether the vast and boisterous main
              Or lake’s more limpid waves they stem,
                How gladly on thy waves I gaze!
                How blest to visit thee again!

              I scarce believe, while rapt I stand,
                That I have left the Thynian fields
                And all Bithynia far behind,
              And safely view my favourite land.
                Oh bliss, when care dispersing yields
                To full repose the placid mind!

              Then when the mind its load lays down;
                When we regain, all hazards past,
                And with long ceaseless travel tired,
              Our household god again our own;
                And press in tranquil sleep at last
                The well-known bed so oft desired—

              This can alone atonement make
              For every toil. Hail, Sirmio sweet!
              Be gay, thy lord hath ceased to roam!
              Ye laughing waves of Lydia’s lake,
              Smile all around! thy master greet
              With all thy smiles, my pleasant home!—ED.]




                            No. XXXIII.[291]


                                                          June 25, 1798.

After the splendid account of BUONAPARTE’S successes in the East, which
our readers will find in another part of this paper,[292] and which they
will peruse with equal wonder and apprehension, it is some consolation
to us to have to state, not only from authority, but in verse, that our
government has not been behindhand with that of France; but that aware
of the wise and enterprising spirit of the enemy, and of the danger
which might arise to our distant possessions from the export of learning
and learned men being entirely in their hands, ministers have long ago
determined on an expedition of a similar nature, and have actually
embarked at Portsmouth on board one of the East India Company’s ships
taken up for that purpose (the ship _Capricorn_, Mr. Thomas Truman,
Commander), several tons of _savans_, the growth of this country. The
whole was conducted with the utmost secrecy and dispatch, and it was not
till we were favoured with the following copy of a letter (obligingly
communicated to us by the Tunisian gentleman to whom it is addressed)
that we had any suspicion of the extent and nature of the design, or
indeed of any such design being in contemplation.

The several great names which are combined to render this Expedition the
most surprising and splendid ever undertaken, could not indeed have been
spared from the country to which they are an ornament for any other
purpose than one the most obviously connected with the interests of the
empire, and the most widely beneficial to mankind.

The secrecy with which they have been withdrawn from the British public,
without being so much as missed or enquired after, reflects the highest
honour on the planners of the enterprise. Even the celebrity of DOCTOR
PARR has not led to any discovery or investigation: the silent admirers
of that great man have never once thought of asking what was become of
him; till it is now all at once come to light, that he has been for
weeks past on shipboard, the brightest star in the bright constellation
of talents which stud the quarter-deck of the _Capricorn_, Mr. T. Truman
(as before mentioned), Commander.

The resignation of the late worthy President of a certain Agricultural
Board[293] might indeed have taught mankind to look for some
extraordinary event in the world of science and adventure; and those who
had the good fortune to see the deportation from his house, of the
several wonderful anomalies which had for years formed its most
distinguished inmates,—the stuffed ram, the dried boar, the cow with
three horns, and other fanciful productions of a like nature, could not
but speculate with some degree of seriousness on the purpose of their
removal, and on the place of their destination.

It now appears that there was in truth no light object in view. They
were destined, with the rest of the _savans_, on whom this country
prides itself (and long may it have reason to indulge the honest
exultation), to undertake a voyage of no less grandeur than peril; to
counteract the designs of the Directory, and to frustrate or forestal
the conquests of Buonaparte.

The young gentleman who writes the following letter to his friend in
London is, as may be seen, interpreter to the Expedition. We have
understood, further, that he is connected with the young man who writes
for the _Morning Chronicle_, and conducts the _Critical, Argumentative_,
and _Geographical_ departments. Some say it is the young man himself,
who has assumed a feigned name, and, under the disguise of a Turkish
dress and circumcision, is gone, at the express instigation of his
employers, to improve himself in geographical knowledge. We have our
doubts upon this subject, as we think we recognise the style of this
deplorable young man in an article of last week’s _Morning Chronicle_,
which we have had occasion to answer in a preceding column of our
present paper. Be that as it may, the information contained in the
following letter may be depended upon.

We cannot take leave of the subject without remarking what a fine
contrast and companion the vessel and cargo described in the following
poem affords [_sic_] to the “NAVIS STULTIFERA,” the “SHIPPE OF FOOLES”
of the celebrated BARCLAY; and we cannot forbear hoping that the
_Argenis_ of an author of the same name may furnish a hint for an
account of this stupendous Expedition in a learned language, from the
only pen which in modern days is capable of writing Latin with a purity
and elegance worthy of so exalted a theme, and that the author of a
classical _preface_[294] may become the writer of a no less celebrated
voyage.


                        TRANSLATION OF A LETTER,
                        (IN ORIENTAL CHARACTERS)
                   FROM BAWBA-DARA-ADUL-PHOOLA,[295]
                      DRAGOMAN TO THE EXPEDITION,
                      TO NEEK-AWL-ARETCHID-KOOEZ,
                   SECRETARY TO THE TUNISIAN EMBASSY.

  DEAR NEEK-AWL,

    You’ll rejoice, that at length I am able,
    To date these few lines from the captain’s own table.
    Mr. Truman himself, of his proper suggestion,
    Has in favour of science decided the question;
    So we walk the main-deck, and are mess’d with the captain,
    I leave you to judge of the joys we are wrapt in.

      At Spithead they embark’d us, how precious a cargo!
    And we sail’d before day to escape the embargo.
    There was SHUCKBOROUGH,[296] the wonderful mathematician;
    And DARWIN, the poet, the sage, and physician;
    There was BEDDOES, and BRUIN, and GODWIN, whose trust is,
    He may part with his work on _Political Justice_
    To some Iman or Bonze, or Judaical Rabbin;
    So with huge quarto volumes he piles up the cabin.
    There was great DR. PARR whom we style _Bellendenus_,
    The Doctor and I have a hammock between us.
    ’Tis a little unpleasant thus crowding together,
    On account of the motion and heat of the weather;
    _Two_ souls in one berth they oblige us to cram,
    And Sir John[297] _will_ insist on a place for his ram.
    Though the Doctor, I find, is determined to think
    ’Tis the animal’s hide that occasions the stink;
    In spite of th’ experienced opinion of Truman,
    Who contends that the scent is exclusively human.
    But BEDDOES and DARWIN engage to repair
    This slight inconvenience with _oxygen_ air.

      Whither bound? (you will ask). ’Tis a question, my friend,
    On which I long doubted; my doubt’s at an end.
    To Arabia the Stony, Sabæa the gummy,
    To the land where each man that you meet is a mummy;
    To the mouths of the Nile, to the banks of Araxes,
    To the _Red_ and the _Yellow_, the _White_ and the _Black_ seas,
    With telescopes, globes, and a quadrant and sextant,
    And the works of all authors whose writings are extant;
    With surveys and plans, topographical maps,
    Theodolites, watches, spring-guns and steel-traps,
    Phials, crucibles, air-pumps, electric machinery,
    And pencils for painting the natives and scenery.
    In short, we are sent to oppose all we know
    To the knowledge and mischievous arts of the foe,
    Who, though placing in arms a well-grounded reliance,
    Go to war with a flying artillery of science.

      The French _savans_, it seems, recommended this measure,
    With a view to replenish the national treasure.
    First, the true _Rights of Man_ they will preach in all places,
    But chief (when ’tis found) in the Egyptian Oasis:
    And this doctrine, ’tis hoped, in a very few weeks
    Will persuade the wild Arabs to murder their cheiks,
    And, to aid the _Great Nation’s_ beneficent plans,
    Plunder pyramids, catacombs, towns, caravans,
    Then enlist under Arcolé’s gallant commander,
    Who will conquer the world like his model ISKANDER.
    His army each day growing bolder and finer,
    With the Turcoman tribes he subdues Asia Minor,
    Beats Paul and his Scythians, his journey pursues
    Cross the Indus, with tribes of Armenians and Jews,
    And Bucharians, and Affghans, and Persians, and Tartars,—
    Chokes the wretched Mogul in his grandmother’s garters,
    And will hang him to dry in the Luxembourg hall,
    ’Midst the plunder of Carthage and spoils of Bengal.

      Such, we hear, was the plan; but I trust, if we meet ’em,
    That _savant_ to _savant_, our cargo will beat ’em.
    Our plan of proceeding I’ll presently tell;—
    But soft—I am call’d—I must bid you farewell:
    To attend on our _savans_ my pen I resign,
    For, it seems, that they _duck_ them on _crossing_ the Line.

                  *       *       *       *       *

We deeply regret this interruption of our oriental poet, and the more
so, as the prose letters which we have received from a less learned
correspondent do not enable us to explain the tactics of our belligerent
philosophers so distinctly as we could have wished. It appears, in
general, that the learned Doctor who has the honour of sharing the
hammock of the amiable oriental, trusted principally to his superior
knowledge in the Greek language, by means of which he hoped to entangle
his antagonists in inextricable confusion. DR. DARWIN proposed (as might
be expected) his celebrated experiment of the Ice-island,[298] which,
being towed on the coast of Africa, could not fail of spoiling the
climate, and immediately terrifying and embarrassing the sailors of
Buonaparte’s fleet, accustomed to the mild temperature and gentle gales
of the Mediterranean, and therefore ill qualified to struggle with this
new importation of tempests. DR. BEDDOES was satisfied with the project
of communicating to Buonaparte a consumption, of the same nature with
that which he formerly tried on himself, but superior in virulence, and
therefore calculated to make the most rapid and fatal ravages in the
hectic constitution of the Gallic hero. The rest of the plan is quite
unintelligible, excepting a hint about Sir J. S.’s intention of
proceeding with his ram to the celebrated Oasis, and of bringing away,
for the convenience of the Bank, the treasures contained in the temple
of Jupiter Ammon.


                FOREIGN INTELLIGENCE EXTRAORDINARY.[299]

  The Priority of Intelligence which has ever distinguished OUR PAPER
  will, We trust, receive additional lustre from the extraordinary
  News which We now lay before the Public. We received it by a Neutral
  Ship, which arrived in the River last night; and feel ourselves much
  indebted to the attention of our Correspondent, a Currant Merchant
  at _Zanté_, for its early communication. Without arrogating to
  ourselves that merit which is (perhaps) justly our due, We think
  ourselves justified in asserting that it is not only the earliest,
  but, if We are not much mistaken, the only account which will appear
  in the Prints of this Day respecting the Successes of BUONAPARTÉ.


  COPY OF A LETTER FROM GENERAL BUONAPARTÉ TO THE COMMANDANT AT ZANTÉ.

                                               “_Athens, 18 Prairial._

  “CITIZEN GENERAL,

  “Victory still attends us. I inclose you a Copy of a Letter which I
  have this day written to the Directory. Health and Fraternity.

                                                         “BUONAPARTÉ.”

                             “_Head-Quarters_, Salamis, _18 Prairial_.

  “Citizens directors,

  “The brave Soldiers, who conferred Liberty on _Rome_, have continued
  to deserve well of their Country. _Greece_ has joyfully received her
  Deliverers. The Tree of Liberty is planted on the _Piræus_. Thirty
  thousand Janizaries, the Slaves of Despotism, had taken possession
  of the Isthmus of _Corinth_. Two Demi-brigades opened us a passage.
  After ten days’ fighting, we have driven the _Turks_ from the
  _Morea_. The _Peloponnesus_ is now free. Every step in my power has
  been taken to revive the antient spirit of _Sparta_. The Inhabitants
  of that celebrated City, seeing _black broth_ of my Troops, and the
  scarcity of specie to which we have been long accustomed, will, I
  doubt not, soon acquire the frugal virtues of their Ancestors. As a
  proper measure of precaution, I have removed all PITT’S gold from
  the Country.

  “Off this Island we encountered the Fleet of the SULTAN. The
  Mahometan Crescent soon fled before the three-coloured flag. Nine
  Sail of the Line are the fruits of this Victory. The CAPTAIN PACHA’S
  Ship, a second rate, struck to a National Corvette. My Aide-de-Camp
  will present you with the model of a _Trireme_, which was found
  among the Archives of _Athens_. Vessels of this description draw so
  little water, that our Naval Architects may perhaps think them more
  eligible than Rafts, for the conveyance of the _Army of England_.
  Liberty will be sufficiently avenged, if the ruins of a Grecian City
  furnish us with the means of transporting the Conquerors of _Rome_
  to _Britain_.

  “On landing at this Island, I participated in a Scene highly
  interesting to Humanity. A poor Fisherman, of the family of
  THEMISTOCLES, attended by his Wife, a descendant of the virtuous
  PHRYNE, fell at my feet. I received him with the Fraternal embrace,
  and promised him the protection of the Republic. He invited me to
  supper at his Hut, and in gratitude to his Deliverer presented me
  with a memorable _Oyster Shell_, inscribed with the Name of his
  illustrious Ancestor. As this curious piece of antiquity may be of
  service to some of the DIRECTORY, I have inclosed it in my
  Dispatches, together with a Marble Tablet, containing the proper
  form for pronouncing the Sentence of _Ostracism_ on _Royalist
  Athenians_.

  “KLÉBER, whom I had ordered to _Constantinople_, informs me that the
  Capital of Turkey has proved an easy conquest. _Santa-Sophia_ has
  been converted into a Temple of Reason; the _Seraglio_ has been
  purified by _Theo-Philanthropists_, and the liberated Circassians
  are learning from our Sailors the lessons of Equality and
  Fraternity. A Detachment has been sent to Troy, for the purpose pf
  organizing the Department of _Mount Ida_. The Tomb of ACHILLES has
  been repaired, and the Bust of BRISEIS (which formed part of the
  Pedestal) restored to its original state, at the expense of the
  Female Citizen BUONAPARTÉ.

  “The Division of the Fleet destined for Egypt has anchored in the
  Port of _Alexandria_. BERTHIER, who commands this Expedition,
  informs me that this Port will soon be restored to its ancient
  pre-eminence; and that its celebrated _Pharos_ will soon be fit to
  receive the _Reverbères_ which have been sent from the _Rue St.
  Honoré_.

  “BARAGUAY D’HILLIERS, with the Left Wing of the _Army of Egypt_, has
  fixed his Head-quarters at _Jerusalem_. He is charged to restore the
  Jews to their ancient Rights. Citizens Jacob Jacobs, Simon Levi, and
  Benjamin Solomons, of Amsterdam, have been provisionally appointed
  Directors. The Palace of _Pontius Pilate_ is re-building for their
  residence. All the vestiges of Superstition in _Palestine_ have been
  carefully destroyed.

  “I beg you will ratify a grant which I have made of the _Temple of
  the Sun_ at _Palmyra_ to a Society of _Illuminati_ from _Bavaria_.
  They may be of service in extending our future conquests.

  “I have received very satisfactory accounts from DESAIX, who had
  been sent by BERTHIER with a Demi-brigade into the interior of
  _Africa_. That fine Country has been too long neglected by
  Europeans. In manners and civilization it much resembles France, and
  will soon emulate our virtues. Already does the Torrid Zone glow
  with the ardour of Freedom. Already has the Altar of Liberty been
  reared in the _Caffrarian_ and _Equinoctial Republics_. Their
  regenerated inhabitants have sworn eternal amity to us at a Civic
  Feast, to which a detachment of our Army was invited. This memorable
  day would have terminated with the utmost harmony, if the CAFFRARIAN
  COUNCIL of ANCIENTS had not devoured the greatest part of General
  Desaix’s État-Major for their supper. I hope our Ambassador will be
  instructed to require that Civic Feasts of this nature be omitted
  for the future. The Directory of the _Equinoctial Republic_ regret
  that the scarcity of British Cloth in Africa, and the great heat of
  the climate, prevent them from adopting our _costume_.

  “We hope soon to liberate the _Hottentots_, and to drive the
  perfidious _English_ from the extremities of Africa and of Europe.
  _Asia_, too, will soon be free. The three-coloured flag floats on
  the summit of Caucasus; the _Tigrine Republic_ is established; the
  _Cis_ and _Trans-Euphratean Conventions_ are assembled; and soon
  shall _Arabia_, under the mild influence of _French Principles_,
  resume her ancient appellation, and be again denominated ‘the
  HAPPY’.

  “In the course of the next Decade I shall sail to the Canal which is
  now cutting across the _Isthmus of Suez_. The Polytechnic School and
  Corps of Geographical Engineers are employed in devising means for
  conveying my heavy artillery across the great Desert. Soon shall
  _India_ hail us as her Deliverers, and those proud islanders, the
  _Tyrants of Calcutta_, fall before the _Heroes of Arcola_.

  “The Members of the National Institute who accompanied the Squadron
  to Egypt, have made a large collection of Antiquities for the use of
  the Republic. Among the scattered remains of the Alexandrine
  Library, they have found a curious Treatise, in Arabic, respecting
  _Camels_, from which it appears that Human Beings, by proper
  treatment, may, like those useful animals, be trained to support
  thirst and hunger without complaining. Many reams of papyrus have
  been collected, as it is thought that during the present scarcity of
  linen and old rags in France, it may answer all the purposes of
  paper. CLEOPATRA’S celebrated Obelisk has been shipped on board the
  Admiral’s Ship _L’Orient_, cidevant _Sans Culottes_: Another
  man-of-war has been freighted with the _Sphinx_, which our Engineers
  removed from _Grand Cairo_, and which, I trust, will be thought a
  proper ornament for the Hall of Audience of the Directory.—The cage
  in which BAJAZET was confined, has been long preserved at _Bassora_;
  it will be transmitted to Paris as a proper model for a new _Cayenne
  Diligence_.—I beg leave to present to the Director MERLIN, a very
  curious book, bound in Morocco leather, from Algiers. It is finely
  illuminated with gold; and contains lists of the various fees
  usually received by Deys and their Ministers from Foreign
  Ambassadors. A broken Column will be sent from _Carthage_. It
  records the downfall of that Commercial City; and is sufficiently
  large for an Inscription (if the Directory should think proper to
  place it on the Banks of the _Thames_), to inform posterity that it
  marks the spot where _London once stood_.

                                                  “Health and Respect,
                                                  “BUONAPARTÉ.”

[Illustration]




                               No. XXXIV.


                                                           July 2, 1798.


                           ODE TO A JACOBIN.
                    FROM SUCKLING’S ODE TO A LOVER.

                                       I.

               UNCHRISTIAN JACOBIN whoever,
               If, of thy God thou cherish ever
               One wavering thought; if e’er HIS word
               Has from one crime thy soul deterr’d,—
                     Know this,
                   Thou think’st amiss;
                   And to think true,
             Thou must renounce Him all, and think anew.

                                       II.

               If, startled at the _guillotine_,
               Trembling thou touch the dread machine;
               If, leading sainted Louis to it,
               Thy steps drew back, thy heart did rue it,—
                     Know this,
                   Thou think’st amiss;
                   And to think true,
             Must rise ’bove weak remorse, and think anew.

                                       III.

               If, callous, thou dost not mistake,
               And murder for mild Mercy’s sake;
               And think thou followest Pity’s call,
               When slaughtered thousands round thee fall,—
                     Know this,
                   Thou think’st amiss;
                   And to think true,
             Must conquer prejudice, and think anew.

                                       IV.

               If, when good men are to be slain,
               Thou hear’st them plead, nor plead in vain;
               Or, when thou answerest, if it be
               With one jot of humanity,—
                     Know this,
                   Thou think’st amiss;
                   And to think true,
             Must pardon leave to fools, and think anew.

                                       V.

               If, when all kings, priests, nobles hated,
               Lie headless, thy revenge is sated,
               Nor thirsts to load the reeking block
               With heads from thine own murd’rous flock,—
                     Know this,
                   Thou think’st amiss;
                   And to think true,
             Thou must go on in blood, and think anew.

                                       VI.

               If, thus, by love of executions,
               Thou provest thee fit for revolutions;
               Yet one achieved, to _that_ art true,
               Nor wouldst begin to change anew,—
                     Know this,
                   Thou think’st amiss;
                   Deem, to think true,
             All constitutions bad, but those bran new.

  [The preceding “ODE TO A JACOBIN” is parodied from the following


                            ODE TO A LOVER,

                         BY SIR JOHN SUCKLING.

                                       I.

                 Honest lover whosoever,
                 If in all thy love was ever
                 One wav’ring thought; if e’er thy flame
                 Were not still even, still the same,—
                     Know this,
                   Thou lov’st amiss;
                   And to love true,
             Thou must begin again, and love anew.

                                       II.

                 If, when she appears i’ th’ room,
                 Thou dost not quake, and art struck dumb;
                 And, in striving this to cover,
                 Dost not speak thy words twice over,—
                     Know this,
                   Thou lov’st amiss;
                   And to love true,
             Thou must begin again, and love anew.

                                       III.

                 If, fondly, thou dost not mistake,
                 And all defects for graces take,
                 Persuad’st thyself that jests are broken,
                 When she has little or nothing spoken,—
                     Know this,
                   Thou lov’st amiss;
                   And to love true,
             Thou must begin again, and love anew.

                                       IV.

                 If, when thou appear’st to be within,
                 Thou let’st not men ask and ask again;
                 And when thou answer’st, if it be
                 To what was ask’d thee, properly,—
                     Know this,
                   Thou lov’st amiss;
                   And to love true,
             Thou must begin again, and love anew.

                                       V.

                 If, when thy stomach calls to eat,
                 Thou cut’st not fingers ’stead of meat;
                 And with much gazing on her face,
                 Dost not rise hungry from the place,—
                      Know this,
                   Thou lov’st amiss;
                   And to love true,
             Thou must begin again, and love anew.

                                       VI.

                 If, by this thou dost discover
                 That thou art no perfect lover;
                 And desiring to love true,
                 Thou dost begin to love anew,—
                     Know this,
                   Thou lov’st amiss;
                   And to love true,
             Thou must begin again, and love anew.—ED.]




                               No. XXXV.


                                                         July 9, 1798.

The following popular song is said to be in great vogue among the loyal
troops in the North of Ireland. The air and the turn of the composition
are highly original. It is attributed (as our correspondent informs us)
to a fifer in the Drumballyroney Volunteers.


                           BALLYNAHINCH.[300]
                              A NEW SONG.

                             I.

   A certain great Statesman[301] whom all of us know,
   In a certain assembly, no long while ago,
   Declared from this maxim he never would flinch,
   “That no town was so _loyal_ as Ballynahinch”.

                             II.

   The great statesman, it seems, had perused all their faces,
   And been mightily struck with their loyal grimaces;
   While each townsman had sung, like a throstle or finch,
   “We are all of us _loyal_ at Ballynahinch”.

                             III.

   The great statesman return’d to his speeches and readings;
   And the Ballynahinchers resumed their proceedings;
   They had most of them sworn, “_We’ll be true to the Frinch_,”[302]
   So _loyal_ a town was this Ballynahinch!

                             IV.

   Determined their landlord’s fine words to make good,
   They hid pikes in his haggard, cut staves in his wood;
   And attack’d the king’s troops—the assertion to clinch,
   That no town is so _loyal_ as Ballynahinch.

                             V.

   O! had we but trusted the _rebels’_ professions,
   Met their cannon with smiles, and their pikes with concessions;
   Tho’ they still took an _ell_ when we gave them an _inch_,
   They would all have been _loyal_—like Ballynahinch.

  VIRI ERUDITI,

Si vobis hocce poematium, de navali laude Britanniæ, paucis annis ante
conscriptum, nuperrimè recensitum atque emendatum, forté arrideat,
quærite in proximis vestris tabulis locum quendam secretum atque
securum, ubi repositum suâ sorte perfruatur. Quod si in me hanc gratiam
contuleritis, devinctus vobis ero et astrictus beneficio.

                                                              ETONENSIS.


                       DE NAVALI LAUDE BRITANNIÆ.

          Successu si freta brevi, fatisque secundis,
          Europæ sub pace vetet requiescere gentes,
          Inque dies ruat ulteriús furialibus armis
          GALLIA, tota instans à sedibus eruere imis
          Fundamenta, quibus cultæ Commercia vitæ
          Firmant se subnixa;—tuisne, BRITANNIA, regnis
          Ecquid ab hoste times; dum te tua saxa tuentur,
          Dum pelagus te vorticibus spumantibus ambit?

            Tu medio stabilita mari, atque ingentibus undis
          Cincta sedes; nec tu angusto, Vulcania tanquam
          Trinacris, interclusa sinu; nec faucibus arctis
          Septa freti brevis, impositisque coercita claustris.
          Liberiora Tibi spatia, et porrecta sine ullo
          Limite regna patent (quanto neque maxima quondam
          Carthago, aut Phœnissa Tyros, ditissima tellus
          Floruit imperio) confiniaque ultima mundi.

            Ergone formidabis adhuc, ne se inferat olim,
          Et campis impuné tuis superingruat hostis?
          Usque adeone parúm est, quod laté litora cernas
          Præruptisturrita jugis, protentaque longo
          Circuitu, et tutos passim præbentia portus?
          Præsertim australes ad aquas, Damnoniaque arva,
          Aut ubi Vecta viret, secessusque insula fidos
          Efficit objectu laterum; saxosave Dubris
          Velivolum laté pelagus, camposque liquentes
          Aeria, adversasque aspectat desuper oras.

            Nec levibus sanè auguriis, aut omine nullo
          Auguror hinc fore perpetuum per secula nomen:
          Dum nautis tam firma tuis, tam prodiga vitæ
          Pectora, inexpletâ succensa cupidine famæ,
          Nec turpi flectenda metu; dum maxima quercus,
          Majestate excelsa suâ, atque ingentibus umbris,
          Erigitur, vasto nodosa atque aspera trunco;
          Silvarum regina. Hæc formidabilis olim
          Noctem inter mediam nimborum, hyemesque sonantes,
          Ardua se attollit super æquora; quam neque fluctûs
          Spumosi attenuat furor, aut violentia venti
          Frangere, et in medio potis est disrumpere ponto.

            Viribus his innixa, saloque accincta frementi,
          Tu media inter bella sedes; ignara malorum,
          Quæ tolerant obsessæ urbes, cúm jam hostica clausas
          Fulminat ad portas acies, vallataque circúm
          Castra locat, sævisque aditus circumsidet armis.

            Talia sunt tibi perpetuæ fundamina famæ,
          Ante alias diis cara, BRITANNIA! Prælia cerno
          Inclyta, perpetuos testes quid maxima victrix,
          Quid possis preclara tuo, maris arbitra, ponto.

            Hæc inter, sanctas æternâ laude calendas
          Servandas recolo, quibus illa, immane minata
          Gentibus excidium, totum grassata per orbem
          Ausaque jam imperiis intactum amplectier æquor,
          Illa odiis lymphata, et libertate recenti
          GALLIA, disjectam ferali funere classem
          Indoluit devicta, et non reparabile vulnus.
          Tempore quo instructas vidit longo ordine puppes
          Rostratâ certare acie, et concurrere ad arma,
          Ætheraque impulsu tremere, Uxantisque per undas
          Lugubre lumen agi, atque rubentem fulgere fumum.

            Cerno triumphatas acies, quo tempore IBERÛM
          Disjectos fastus, lacerisque aplustria velis
          Horruit Oceanus:—quali formidine Gades
          Intremere, ut fractâ classem se mole moventem
          Hospitium petere, et portus videre relictos!

            Quid referam, nobis quæ nuper adorea risit,
          Te rursús superante, die quo decolor ibat
          Sanguine BELGARUM Rhenus, fluctusque minores
          Volvebat, frustra indignans polluta cruore
          Ostia, et Angliaco tremefactas fulmine rupes.

            Cerno pias ædes procúl, et regalia quondam
          Atria, cæruleis quæ preterlabitur undis
          Velivolus Thamesis; materno ubi denique nautas
          Excipis amplexu, virtus quoscumque virilis
          Per pelagi impulerit discrimina, quælibet ausos
          Pro Patriâ. Híc rude donantur, dulcique senescunt
          Hospitio emeriti, placidâque quiete potiti
          Vulnera præteritos jactant testantia casus.

            Macte ideó decus Oceani! macte omne per ævum
          Victrix, æquoreo stabilita BRITANNIA regno!
          Litoribusque tuis ne propugnacula tantúm
          Præsidio fore, nec saxi munimina credas,
          Nec tantúm quæ mille acies in utrumque parantur,
          Aut patriam tutari, aut non superesse cadenti;
          Invictæ quantúm metuenda tonitrua CLASSIS,
          Angliacæ CLASSIS;—quæ majestate verendâ
          Ultrix, inconcussa, diú dominabitur orbi,
          Hostibus invidiosa tuis, et sæpe triumphis
          Nobilitata novis, pelagi Regina subacti.


                [TRANSLATION OF THE PRECEDING POEM.[303]

                   By the late A. F. Westmacott, Esq.

  MEN OF LEARNING,

  If by chance the following little poem, on the naval glory of
  Britain, written a few years since, and very lately revised and
  corrected, please you, look in your nearest tablets for some private
  and secure place, where it may be placed to enjoy its good fortune.
  Should you confer on me this favour, I shall be bound to you by the
  obligation of your kindness.

                                                              ETONIAN.


                     ON THE NAVAL GLORY OF BRITAIN.

        If buoy’d by short success and fav’ring chance,
        Wide Europe’s peace-destroyer, restless France,
        Each day still onward rush with fresh alarms,
        And threaten ruin with her furious arms;
        Ruin to all whereon is based the throne
        That life’s sweet charities have made their own;
        Fearest thou, Britain, for thy rock-girt realm,
        With seas that foam around and whirlpools to o’erwhelm?

        Still in the midst of ocean firmly placed,
        Circled by mighty waves thy seat is based!
        Not by a strait enclosed, as that fair soil
        Where Fabled Vulcan plies his fiery toil;
        Within no narrow bay thy waters roll,
        No yawning gulf, no barrier rocks control.
        Wider thy space, thy realm no limit knows,
        Not Tyre so rich, not Tyrian Carthage rose.
        Wilt thou yet fear, lest here the haughty foe,
        Thy fields o’er-run, and still unpunished go!
        Is it then nought to view th’ extended strand
        O’er which stern crags like beetling turrets stand,
        And countless ports in safe embrace expand?
        Look to thy southern waves, to Devon’s fields,
        Or where green Vectis[304] trusty harbour yields,
        Spreading her friendly arms; or Dover’s height
        Looks on the sea with widespread canvas white,
        And, perched on high, the liquid plain surveys,
        And adverse cliffs that bound the wat’ry ways.

        Not by vague augury, nor omen slight,
        I view thy name through endless ages bright;
        While thy firm crews still prodigal of life
        Insatiate burn for fame and dare the strife.
        No coward fear they know, while stands erect
        The mighty oak with boughs umbrageous decked;
        Majestic, high, with knotted trunk, the Queen
        Of woods! Hereafter, o’er the waters seen
        ’Mid the dim midnight of the sounding storm
        Aloft ’twill rear the terrors of its form;
        In vain the roaring surges round it break,
        In vain the winds their uncurbed vengeance wreak,
        Throned on such pow’rs, surrounded by the sea,
        The circling waves have scarce one fear for thee.
        Thou know’st not ills that towns besieged await,
        When hostile columns thunder at the gate;
        Pitch their dread camp with fatal ramparts round,
        And with fierce arms enclose the leaguered ground.

          Such is to thee the base of lasting fame,
        To Heav’n Britannia still the dearest name!
        Gladly I view the glories of the fight,
        Perpetual witnesses of deathless might,
        To show, bright conqueress, nations yet to be,
        What dared, what did the mistress of the sea.

          ’Mid these the day with praise eternal blest
        Earns memory’s tribute most, when, direful pest,
        Denouncing ruin to the world, while she
        Dared grasp the sceptre of the unconquer’d sea,
        Wild with new license, mad with hatred’s heat
        France, grieved and humbled, viewed her ruined fleet!
        Saw how all hopes one fatal wound could mar
        When well-manned squadrons armed their prows for war!
        When the sky trembled, and o’er Ushant’s tide
        Red glared the smoke and sickly light supplied.

          I see the conquered lines, what time proud Spain
        With tattered sailcloths thickly strewed the main;
        How Cadiz quailed when back the shattered fleet
        Sought, in the port it left, a safe retreat.
        Why should I tell what smile of Vict’ry beamed,
        When Rhine’s fair wave with Belgic slaughter gleamed;
        When humbled waters tow’rds the sea it sped,
        Mad that its mouths with native blood were red,
        While England’s thunders rolled above its rocky bed?

          I see afar the domes that crown the tide,
        Where Thames uncounted sails in triumph glide:
        Here, the brave souls whom manly courage drove
        Through the deep’s perils in a holy love
        Of country, find in thy maternal breast
        Their toil rewarded and their daring blest!
        Dismissed at length from duty nobly done
        They wane in quiet ’neath the noontide sun,
        Recal the dangers of their byegone wars,
        And boast appealing to their manhood’s scars.

          On in thy race of glory, conqueress, on!
        For every age thy sea-girt realm is won!
        Think not the fortress which thy shores uprear,
        Nor thy rock bulwarks shall inspire such fear,
        Nor the brave thousands who obey thy call,
        With thee to rise, or not survive thy fall,
        As the dread thunders of that untamed host:
        Thy fleet, Britannia, is thy proudest boast;
        Awful, majestic, firm; its flag unfurl’d
        Shall long wave lordly o’er the conquered world;
        Hateful to foes for triumphs yet to be,
        The rightful Sovereign of the subject sea.—ED.]




                            No. XXXVI.[305]


                                                   MONDAY, July 9, 1798.

                 _We shall miss thee;
               But yet thou shalt have freedom—
               —So! to the Elements
               Be free, and fare thou well._
                                           —THE TEMPEST.

We have now completed our Engagement with the Public. The ANTI-JACOBIN
has been conducted to the close of the Session in strict conformity with
the Principles upon which it was first undertaken.

Its reception with the Public has been highly favourable:—it certainly
has been out of proportion to any merit which has appeared in the
execution of the Work. This is not said in the mere cant of Authorship.
We are sensible that much of our success has been owing to the improved
state of the Public mind;—an improvement existing from other causes, and
to which, if We have in any degree contributed, it has in return
operated to our advantage, by a reaction more than equal to any
impression which our exertions could have produced. There is, however,
one species of merit to which We lay claim without hesitation:—We mean
that of the Spirit and Principles upon which We have acted. That Spirit,
We trust We shall leave behind us. The SPELL of _Jacobin
invulnerability_ is now broken.[306]

We know from better authority than that of CAMILLE JORDAN, that one of
our Daily Papers was, _early_ in the French Revolution, purchased by
France, and devoted to the dissemination of tenets, which, at the period
to which We allude, seemed necessary to the success of the Ruling Party.

For some time matters went on swimmingly. The Editors of the favoured
Prints divided their time and their attention between _London_ and
_Paris_; and the superiority of the governing Party in France, over its
Opponents, was as duly, and as strenuously maintained in the English
Papers, as in the “_Journal du Père de Chène_,”[307] “_Journal par L’Ami
du Peuple_,”[308] or any other Journal that issued from the Presses of
the Jacobin Society.

As the principles of the Revolution, however, acquired consistency in
France, the struggle between the Governing Party and its Opponents
became an object of less moment, and the Jacobins had leisure, as they
long had had inclination, to turn their views to this Country.

A State, enjoying under a Government which they had proscribed as
utterly incapable of producing either, as much freedom and happiness as
comport with the nature of Man, was too bitter a satire on the decision
of these new SOLONS, to be regarded with patience; and the pens which
had been so industriously employed in celebrating the plunderers and
perturbators of France, were now engaged in the benevolent design of
recommending their principles, and their plans of ameliorating the
condition of the human race by Atheism and Plunder, to the serious
notice of the People of _Great Britain_.

Affairs seemed rapidly hastening to a crisis: _France_ saw with delight
the numbers seduced by the sophistry of her Writers, and by the alluring
prospects of proscription and plunder; and her Agents, who snuffed the
scent of blood like Vultures, already anticipated the Revolution which
they now believed inevitable; when the Ministry, who had viewed the
progress of the evil with an anxious but unterrified eye, roused
themselves into unexampled energy, and called on the Nation to rally
round the Constitution which they had received from their Forefathers.

The call was gloriously answered;—Thousands and tens of thousands sprung
forth in its defence; and the barbarous hordes which so lately
threatened its destruction, overawed by their numbers, shrunk from the
contest without a struggle, and vanished from the field.

But the nature of a Jacobin is restless. His hatred of all subordination
is unbounded, and his thirst of plunder and blood urgent and insatiable.
In arms he found himself infinitely too weak to obtain his purpose; he
must, therefore, have recourse again to artifice; and by fallacies and
lies, endeavoured to subvert and betray the judgment of those he could
not openly hope to subdue.

For this purpose, the Press was engaged, and almost monopolized in all
its branches: Reviews, Registers, Monthly Magazines, and Morning and
Evening Prints, sprung forth in abundance.

Of these last (the only Publications with which We have any immediate
concern), it is not too much to say, that they have laboured in the
cause of infamy, with a perseverance which no sense of shame could
repress, and no dread of punishment overcome. The objects committed to
their charge were multifarious. They were to revile all Religions, but
particularly the Christian, whose DIVINE FOUNDER was to be blasphemously
compared to _Bacchus_, and represented as equally ideal, or, if real,
more bestial and besotted! They were to magnify the power of _France_,
on all occasions; to deny her murders; to palliate her robberies; to
suppress all mention of her miseries, and to hold her forth to the
unenlightened Englishman as the mirror of justice, and truth, and
generosity, and meekness, and humanity, and moderation, and tender
forbearance:—and, on the other hand, they were to depreciate the spirit,
and the courage, and the resources of _England_: they were to impede, if
possible, and if not, to ridicule and revile, every measure which the
honour, the prosperity, or the safety of the Country might imperiously
require; they were to represent the Government as insidiously aiming to
enslave the Nation, by every attempt to maintain its Independence; and
the majority of both Houses, the great body of Proprietors, as anxious
to scatter and confound that wealth, which _their_ Patrons alone, the
respectable sweepings of _Craven-House_, and the _Crown_ and _Anchor_
Tavern, were solicitous to augment and preserve.

These, our readers will allow, were no common objects, and if they have
looked into the _Morning Chronicle_, _Morning Post_, and _Courier_
Journals to which our attention has been chiefly directed, they must
have seen that their attainment was sought by no common means; by an
_invariable_ course of Falsehood and Misrepresentation—such, at least,
was our idea on the first perusal of these Papers, an idea which every
succeeding one served to strengthen and confirm.

To detect and expose this Falsehood, and to correct this
Misrepresentation, became at length an object of indispensable
necessity: a variety of applications of the most malignant nature had
obtained currency and credit, from the unblushing impudence with which
they were first obtruded on the Public by the Agents of Sedition, and
the apathy with which they were suffered to pass uncontradicted by those
who despised them for their atrocity, or ridiculed them for their
folly:—these were unfortunately operating on the less enlightened part
of the Nation; and it was from a full conviction of the pernicious
effects they were calculated to produce, that we finally determined to
step forth (after patiently waiting to see whether the business would
not be taken up by abler hands), and to oppose such antidotes to the
evil, as a regard for truth, and a sincere love and veneration for the
Constitution under which we have flourished for ages, could supply.

How we have succeeded must be left to the judgment of the Public. If we
might venture, indeed, to conjecture from the support which we have
experienced, the result would be flattering in an unusual degree. Three
complete Editions of our Paper (a circumstance, we believe, as yet
without a precedent) have been disposed of, and the demand for them
still increases.

But the motives of Profit, as will readily, we believe, be granted to
us, have little influence on our minds: we contemplate the extensive
circulation of our Paper with pleasure, solely from the consideration of
the VAST NUMBERS of our Countrymen whom we have fortified by our
animadversions against the profligate attacks of the Agents of Sedition,
whether furnished by the _Whig Club_, the _Corresponding Society_, or
the _Directory of France_.

Calculation was not originally our delight. Nor was it till after we saw
the wonderful effects which it produced in the pages of the Jacobinical
Arithmeticians that we were tempted to adopt it. Our first Essay,
however, was crowned with the most complete success. In our Seventh
Number, we gave (still following the laudable example of the Jacobins,
who, when a Ship is to be fitted out, or a Regiment raised, for the
purpose of defending our Country from an insolent and barbarous foe,
nicely calculate how many idle mouths might be fed by the sums
required)—We gave, we say, as accurate a statement as we could form, of
the number of People that might be supplied with wholesome food for one
day, by the SURCHARGE levied on the DUKE OF BEDFORD—a statement which,
we are happy to add, placed the matter in so clear a light that we have
since had no occasion to repeat it.

Our Readers will not _now_ be surprised if we again have recourse to
_Calculation_ to prove the advantages which (we love to flatter
ourselves) have been derived from our Paper. Our Sale (to say nothing of
the new Editions which have been disposed of) has regularly amounted to
_Two Thousand Five Hundred_ a week; on an average of several Papers, we
find the Lies which have been detected to amount to _six_, and the
Misrepresentations and Mistakes to _an equal number_. This furnishes a
total of _twelve_, which, multiplied by _thirty-five_, the number of the
last ANTI-JACOBIN, gives a total of _four hundred and twenty_.

If we now take the number of Subscribers (2500) and multiply them by
seven, a number of which every one’s family may be reasonably supposed
to consist, we shall have a product of 17,500; but as many of these have
made a practice, which we highly approve, and cannot too earnestly
recommend, of lending our Papers to their poorer Neighbours, We must
make our addition to the sum which We evidently take too low at 32,500.
We have thus an aggregate of 50,000 People, a most respectable minority
of the Readers of the whole Kingdom, who have been put effectually on
their guard, by our humble though earnest endeavours, against the
artifices of the seditious, and the more open attacks of the profligate
and abandoned Foes of their Constitution, their Country, and their God.

Further, if we multiply 50,000, the number of Readers, by 420, the exact
number of Falsehoods detected—say 500—for We ought to take in bye-blows,
and odd refutations in notes, &c.—the total of Twenty-five Millions will
represent the aggregate of Falsehood which We have sent out of the
World.

We have more than once repeated that we entered upon this part of our
task, not from any vain hope of convincing the Writers themselves. We
knew this to be impossible; the forehead of a _Jacobin_, like the shield
of AJAX, is formed of seven bull-hides, and utterly incapable of any
impression of shame or remorse—but we are convinced that we have
rescued, as we stated above, Fifty Thousand persons from their
machinations, and taught them not only a salutary distrust, but a
contempt and disbelief, of every laboured article which appears in the
Papers of this description.

Nor can We be accused of presumption in this declaration, when it is
considered that the conviction on which We so confidently rely is not
the effect of a _solitary_ impression on our Readers’ minds, but of one
four hundred and twenty times repeated (this being the fair amount of
the number of Lies, &c., We have detected)—an agglomeration of impulse
which no prejudice could resist and no preconceived partialities weaken
or remove.

Here then We rest. We trust We have “done the State some service”;—We
have driven the Jacobins from many strongholds to which they most
tenaciously held.[309] We have exposed their Principles, detected their
Motives, weakened their Authority, and overthrown their Credit. We have
shewn them in every instance, ignorant, and designing, and false, and
wicked, and turbulent, and anarchical—various in their language, but
united in their plans, and steadily pursuing through hatred and
contempt, the destruction of their Country.

With this impression on the Minds of our Readers WE TAKE OUR LEAVE of
them. Their welfare is in their own hands; if they suffer the Jacobins
to regain any of the influence of which We have deprived them, they will
compromise their own Safety; but WE shall be blameless—_Liberavimus
animas nostras_.—WE HAVE DONE OUR DUTY.


                                POETRY.

                            _New Morality._

 From mental mists to purge a nation’s eyes;
 To animate the weak, unite the wise;
 To trace the deep infection that pervades
 The crowded town, and taints the rural shades;
 To mark how wide extends the mighty waste
 O’er the fair realms of Science, Learning, Taste;
 To drive and scatter all the brood of lies,
 And chase the varying falsehood as it flies;
 The long arrears of ridicule to pay,
 To drag reluctant dulness back to day;                                10
 Much yet remains.—To you these themes belong,
 Ye favoured sons of virtue and of song!

   Say, is the field too narrow? are the times
 Barren of folly, and devoid of crimes?

   Yet, venial vices, in a milder age,
 Could rouse the warmth of POPE’S satiric rage:
 The doating miser, and the lavish heir,
 The follies and the foibles of the fair,
 Sir Job, Sir Balaam, and old Euclio’s thrift,
 And Sappho’s diamonds with her dirty shift,                           20
 Blunt, Charteris, Hopkins,—meaner subjects fired
 The keen-eyed Poet; while the Muse inspired
 Her ardent child—entwining, as he sate,
 His laurel’d chaplet with the thorns of hate.

   But say,—indignant does the Muse retire,
 Her shrine deserted, and extinct its fire?
 No pious hand to feed the sacred flame,
 No raptured soul a poet’s charge to claim?

   Bethink thee, GIFFORD; when some future age
 Shall trace the promise of thy playful page;—                         30
 “[310]The hand which brushed a swarm of fools away
 Should rouse to grasp a more reluctant prey!”—
 Think then, will pleaded indolence excuse
 The tame secession of thy languid Muse?

   Ah! where is now that promise? why so long
 Sleep the keen shafts of satire and of song?
 Oh! come, with taste and virtue at thy side,
 With ardent zeal inflamed, and patriot pride;
 With keen poetic glance direct the blow,
 And empty all thy quiver on the foe:—                                 40
 No pause—no rest—till weltering on the ground
 The poisonous hydra lies, and pierced with many a wound.

   Thou too!—the nameless Bard,[311]—whose honest zeal
 For law, for morals, for the public weal,
 Pours down impetuous on thy country’s foes
 The stream of verse, and many-languaged prose;
 Thou too! though oft thy ill-advised dislike
 The guiltless head with random censure strike,—
 Though quaint allusions, vague and undefined,
 Play faintly round the ear, but mock the mind;—                       50
 Through the mix’d mass yet truth and learning shine,
 And manly vigour stamps the nervous line;
 And patriot warmth the generous rage inspires,
 And wakes and points the desultory fires!

   Yet more remain unknown:—for who can tell
 What bashful genius, in some rural cell,
 As year to year, and day succeeds to day,
 In joyless leisure wastes his life away?
 In him the flame of early fancy shone;
 His genuine worth his old companions own;                             60
 In childhood and in youth their chief confess’d,
 His master’s pride, his pattern to the rest.
 Now, far aloof retiring from the strife
 Of busy talents, and of active life,
 As from the loop-holes of retreat he views
 Our stage, verse, pamphlets, politics, and news,
 He loathes the world,—or, with reflections sad,
 Concludes it irrecoverably mad;
 Of taste, of learning, morals, all bereft,
 No hope, no prospect to redeem it left.                               70

   Awake! for shame! or e’er thy nobler sense
 Sink in th’ oblivious pool of indolence!
 Must wit be found alone on falsehood’s side,
 Unknown to truth, to virtue unallied?
 Arise! nor scorn thy country’s just alarms;
 Wield in her cause thy long-neglected arms:
 Of lofty satire pour th’ indignant strain,
 Leagued with her friends, and ardent to maintain
 ’Gainst Learning’s, Virtue’s, Truth’s, Religion’s foes,
 A kingdom’s safety, and the world’s repose.                           80

   If Vice appal thee,—if thou view with awe
 Insults that brave, and crimes that ’scape the law;
 Yet may the specious bastard brood, which claim
 A spurious homage under Virtue’s name,
 Sprung from that parent of ten thousand crimes,
 The _New Philosophy_ of modern times,—
 Yet, these may rouse thee!—With unsparing hand,
 Oh, lash the vile impostures from the land!

   First, stern PHILANTHROPY:—not she, who dries
 The orphan’s tears, and wipes the widow’s eyes;                       90
 Not she, who sainted Charity her guide,
 Of British bounty pours the annual tide:—
 But _French_ PHILANTHROPY;—whose boundless mind
 Glows with the general love of all mankind;—
 PHILANTHROPY,—beneath whose baneful sway
 Each patriot passion sinks, and dies away.

   Taught in her school to imbibe thy mawkish strain,
 CONDORCET, filtered through the dregs of PAINE,
 Each pert adept disowns a Briton’s part,
 And plucks the name of ENGLAND from his heart.                   100

   What! shall a name, a word, a sound, control
 Th’ aspiring thought, and cramp th’ expansive soul?
 Shall one half-peopled Island’s rocky round
 A love, that glows for all creation, bound?
 And social charities contract the plan
 Framed for thy freedom, UNIVERSAL MAN!
 No—through th’ extended globe his feelings run
 As broad and general as th’ unbounded sun!
 No narrow bigot _he_;—_his_ reason’d view
 Thy interests, _England_, ranks with thine, _Peru_!                  110
 _France_ at our doors, _he_ sees no danger nigh,
 But heaves for _Turkey’s_ woes th’ impartial sigh;
 A steady patriot of the world alone,
 The friend of every country—but his own.

   Next comes a gentler Virtue.—Ah! beware
 Lest the harsh verse her shrinking softness scare.
 Visit her not too roughly;—the warm sigh
 Breathes on her lips;—the tear-drop gems her eye.
 Sweet SENSIBILITY, who dwells enshrined
 In the fine foldings of the feeling mind;                            120
 With delicate _Mimosa’s_ sense endued,
 Who shrinks instinctive from a hand too rude;
 Or, like the _Anagallis_, prescient flower,
 Shuts her soft petals at the approaching shower.

   Sweet child of sickly FANCY!—her of yore
 From her loved _France_ ROUSSEAU to exile bore;
 And, while ’midst lakes and mountains wild he ran,
 Full of himself, and shunn’d the haunts of man,
 Taught her o’er each lone vale and Alpine steep
 To lisp the story of his wrongs, and weep;                           130
 Taught her to cherish still in either eye,
 Of tender tears a plentiful supply,
 And pour them in the brooks that babbled by;
 Taught by nice scale to mete her feelings strong,
 False by degrees, and exquisitely wrong;
 For the crush’d beetle, _first_,—the widow’d dove,
 And all the warbled sorrows of the grove;
 _Next_ for poor suff’ring _Guilt_; and _last_ of all,
 For parents, friends, a king and country’s fall.

   Mark her fair votaries, prodigal of grief,                         140
 With cureless pangs, and woes that mock relief,
 Droop in soft sorrow o’er a faded flower;
 O’er a dead Jack-Ass pour the pearly shower;
 But hear, unmoved, of _Loire’s_ ensanguined flood,
 Choked up with slain; of _Lyons_ drenched in blood;
 Of crimes that blot the age, the world, with shame,
 Foul crimes, but sicklied o’er with Freedom’s name;
 Altars and thrones subverted; social life
 Trampled to earth,—the husband from the wife,
 Parent from child, with ruthless fury torn,—                         150
 Of talents, honour, virtue, wit, forlorn,
 In friendless exile,—of the wise and good
 Staining the daily scaffold with their blood,—
 Of savage cruelties, that scare the mind,
 The rage of madness with hell’s lusts combined,—
 Of hearts torn reeking from the mangled breast,—
 They hear,—and hope that ALL IS FOR THE BEST.

   Fond hope! but JUSTICE sanctifies the prayer—
 JUSTICE! here, Satire, strike! ’twere sin to spare!
 Not she in British Courts that takes her stand,                      160
 The dawdling balance dangling in her hand,
 Adjusting punishments to fraud and vice,
 With scrupulous quirks, and disquisition nice:
 But firm, erect, with keen reverted glance,
 Th’ avenging angel of regenerate _France_,
 Who visits ancient sins on modern times,
 And punishes the POPE for CÆSAR’S crimes.[312]

   Such is the liberal JUSTICE which presides
 In these our days, and modern patriots guides;—
 JUSTICE, whose blood-stain’d book one sole decree,          170
 One statute, fills—“the People shall be Free!”
 Free! By what means?—by folly, madness, guilt,
 By boundless rapines, blood in oceans spilt;
 By confiscation, in whose sweeping toils
 The poor man’s pittance with the rich man’s spoils,
 Mix’d in one common mass, are swept away,
 To glut the short-lived tyrant of the day;—
 By laws, religion, morals, all o’erthrown:—
 Rouse, then, ye sovereign people, claim your own:
 The license that enthrals, the truth that blinds,                    180
 The wealth that starves you, and the power that grinds!
 So JUSTICE bids.—’Twas her enlighten’d doom,
 Louis, thy holy head devoted to the tomb!
 ’Twas JUSTICE claim’d, in that accurséd hour,
 The fatal forfeit of too lenient power.
 Mourn for the Man we may;—but for the King,—
 Freedom, oh! Freedom’s such a charming thing!

   “Much may be said on both sides.”—Hark! I hear
 A well-known voice that murmurs in my ear,—
 The voice of CANDOUR.—Hail! most solemn sage,               190
 Thou drivelling virtue of this moral age,
 CANDOUR, which softens party’s headlong rage.
 CANDOUR,—which spares its foes;—nor e’er descends
 With bigot zeal to combat for its friends.
 CANDOUR,—which loves in see-saw strain to tell
 Of _acting foolishly_, but _meaning well_;
 Too nice to praise by wholesale, or to blame,
 Convinced that _all_ men’s _motives_ are the same;
 And finds, with keen discriminating sight,
 BLACK’S not _so_ black;—nor WHITE _so very_ white.    200

   “FOX, to be sure, was vehement and wrong:
 But then, PITT’S words, you’ll own, were _rather_ strong.
 Both must be blamed, both pardon’d; ’twas just so
 With FOX and PITT full forty years ago!
 So WALPOLE, PULTENEY;—factions in all times
 Have had their follies, ministers their crimes.”

   Give me th’ avow’d, th’ erect, the manly foe,
 Bold I can meet—perhaps may turn his blow;
 But of all plagues, good Heav’n, thy wrath can send,
 Save, save, oh! save me from the _Candid Friend_!             210

   “BARRAS loves plunder, MERLIN takes a bribe,—
 What then!—shall CANDOUR these good men proscribe?
 No! ere we join the loud-accusing throng,
 Prove,—not the facts,—but, that _they thought them wrong_.

   “Why hang O’QUIGLEY?—he, misguided man,
 In sober thought his country’s weal _might_ plan:
 And, while his deep-wrought Treason sapp’d the throne,
 _Might_ act from _taste in morals_, all his own.”

   Peace to such Reasoners! let them have their way;
 Shut their dull eyes against the blaze of day;                       220
 PRIESTLEY’S a Saint, and STONE a Patriot still;
 And LA FAYETTE a Hero, if they will.

   I love the bold uncompromising mind,
 Whose principles are fix’d, whose views defined;
 Who scouts and scorns, in canting CANDOUR’S spite,
 All _taste in morals_, innate sense of right,
 And Nature’s impulse, all uncheck’d by art,
 And feelings fine, that float about the heart:
 Content, for good men’s guidance, bad men’s awe,
 On moral truth to rest, and Gospel law.                              230
 Who owns, when Traitors feel th’ avenging rod,
 Just retribution, and the hand of GOD;
 Who hears the groans through _Olmütz_’ roofs that ring,
 Of him who mock’d, misled, betray’d his King—
 Hears unappall’d, though Faction’s zealots preach,
 Unmov’d, unsoften’d by FITZPATRICK’S Speech.[313]

   That Speech on which the melting Commons hung,
 “While truths divine came mended from _his_ tongue”;
 How loving husband clings to duteous wife,—
 How pure Religion soothes the ills of life,—                         240
 How Popish ladies trust their pious fears
 And naughty actions in their chaplains’ ears.—
 Half novel and half sermon, on it flow’d;
 With pious zeal THE OPPOSITION glow’d;
 And as o’er each the soft infection crept,
 Sigh’d as he whin’d, and as he whimper’d, wept;—
 E’en CURWEN[314] dropt a sentimental tear,
 And stout ST. ANDREW yelp’d a softer “Hear!”

        ·       ·       ·       ·       ·

   Oh! nurse of crimes and fashions! which in vain
 Our colder servile spirits would attain,                             250
 How do we ape thee, _France!_ but, blundering still,
 Disgrace the pattern by our want of skill.
 The borrow’d step our awkward gait reveals:
 (As clumsy COURTENAY[315] mars the verse he steals.)
 How do we ape thee, _France!_—nor claim alone
 Thy arts, thy tastes, thy morals, for our own,                       260
 But to thy WORTHIES render homage due,
 Their[316] “hair-breadth scapes” with anxious interest view;
 Statesmen and Heroines whom this age adores,
 Though plainer times would call them Rogues and Whores.              260

   See LOUVET, patriot, pamphleteer, and sage,
 Tempering with amorous fire his virtuous rage.
 Form’d for all tasks, his various talents see,
 The luscious Novel, the severe Decree.
 Then mark him welt’ring in his nasty sty,
 Bare his lewd transports to the public eye.
 Not _his_ the love in silent groves that strays,
 Quits the rude world, and shuns the vulgar gaze.
 In LODOISKA’S full possession blest,
 One craving void still aches within his breast;                      270
 Plunged in the filth and fondness of her arms,
 Not to himself alone he stints her charms;
 Clasp’d in each other’s foul embrace they lie,
 But know no joy, unless the World stands by.
 The fool of vanity, for her alone
 He lives, loves, writes, and dies but to be known.

   His widow’d mourner flies to poison’s aid,
 Eager to join her LOUVET’S parted shade
 In those bright realms where sainted lovers stray,
 But harsh emetics tear that hope away.[317]                          280
 Yet hapless LOUVET! where thy bones are laid,
 The easy nymphs shall consecrate the shade.[318]
 There in the laughing morn of genial spring,
 Unwedded pairs shall tender couplets sing;
 Eringoes o’er the hallow’d spot shall bloom,
 And flies of Spain buzz softly round the tomb.[319]

   But hold, severer virtue claims the Muse—
 ROLAND the just, with ribands in his shoes—[320]
 And ROLAND’S spouse, who paints with chaste delight
 The doubtful conflict of her nuptial night;—                         290
 Her virgin charms what fierce attacks assail’d,
 And how the rigid Minister[321] prevail’d.

   And ah! what verse can grace thy stately mien,
 Guide of the world, preferment’s golden queen,
 NECKAR’S fair daughter,—STAEL the Epicene!
 Bright o’er whose flaming cheek and pumple[322] nose
 The bloom of young desire unceasing glows!
 Fain would the Muse—but ah! she dares no more,
 A mournful voice from lone _Guyana’s_ shore,[323]
 Sad QUATREMER-the bold presumption checks,                  300
 Forbid to question thy ambiguous sex.

   To thee, proud BARRAS bows;—thy charms control
 REWBELL’S brute rage, and MERLIN’S subtle soul;
 Rais’d by thy hands, and fashion’d to thy will,
 Thy power, thy guiding influence, governs still,
 Where at the blood-stain’d board expert he plies,
 The lame artificer of fraud and lies;
 He with the mitred head and cloven heel;—
 Doom’d the coarse edge of REWBELL’S jests to feel;[324]
 To stand the playful buffet, and to hear                             310
 The frequent ink-stand whizzing past his ear;
 While all the five Directors laugh to see
 “The limping priest so deft at his new ministry”.[325]

   Last of th’ ANOINTED FIVE behold, and least,
 The Directorial LAMA, Sovereign Priest,—
 LEPAUX;—whom atheists worship;—at whose nod
 Bow their meek heads _the Men without a God_.[326]

   Ere long, perhaps, to this astonish’d isle,
 Fresh from the shores of subjugated _Nile_,
 Shall BUONAPARTE’S victor fleet protect                     320
 The genuine Theo-Philanthropic sect,—
 The sect of MARAT, MIRABEAU, VOLTAIRE,—
 Led by their Pontiff, good LA RÉVEILLÈRE.
 Rejoiced our CLUBS shall greet him, and install
 The holy Hunchback in thy dome, _St. Paul_!
 While countless votaries, thronging in his train,
 Wave their red caps, and hymn this jocund strain:—

   “_Couriers and Stars_, Sedition’s evening host,
 Thou _Morning Chronicle_ and _Morning Post_,
 Whether ye make the Rights of Man your theme,                        330
 Your country libel, and your God blaspheme,
 Or dirt on private worth and virtue throw,
 Still, blasphemous or blackguard, praise LEPAUX!

   “And ye five other wandering bards, that move
 In sweet accord of harmony and love,
 COLERIDGE and SOUTHEY, LLOYD, and LAMB & CO.
 Tune all your mystic harps to praise LEPAUX!

   “PRIESTLEY and WAKEFIELD, humble, holy men,
 Give praises to his name with tongue and pen!

   “THELWALL, and ye that lecture as ye go,                  340
 And for your pains get pelted, praise LEPAUX!

   “Praise him each Jacobin, or Fool, or Knave,
 And your cropp’d heads in sign of worship wave!

   “All creeping creatures, venomous and low,
 PAINE, WILLIAMS, GODWIN, HOLCROFT, praise LEPAUX!

     “—— and —— with —— join’d,[327]
 And every other beast after his kind.

   “And thou, _Leviathan_! on ocean’s brim
 Hugest of living things that sleep and swim;
 Thou, in whose nose, by BURKE’S gigantic hand                    350
 The hook was fixed to drag thee to the land,
 With ——, ——, and ——, in thy train,
 And —— wallowing in the yeasty main,—[328]
 Still as ye snort, and puff, and spout, and blow,
 In puffing, and in spouting, praise LEPAUX!”

        ·       ·       ·       ·       ·

   BRITAIN, beware; nor let th’ insidious foe,
 Of force despairing, aim a deadlier blow;
 Thy Peace, thy Strength, with devilish wiles assail,
 And when her Arms are vain, by Arts prevail.
 True, thou art rich, art powerful!—thro’ thine Isle                  360
 Industrious skill, contented labour, smile;
 Far Seas are studded with thy countless sails;
 What wind but wafts them, and what shore but hails!
 True, thou art brave!—o’er all the busy land
 In patriot ranks embattled myriads stand;
 Thy foes behold with impotent amaze
 And drop the lifted weapon as they gaze

   But what avails to guard each outward part,
 If subtlest poison, circling at thy heart,
 Spite of thy courage, of thy pow’r, and wealth,                      370
 Mine the sound fabric of thy vital health?

   So thine own Oak, by some fair streamlet’s side,
 Waves its broad arms, and spreads its leafy pride,
 Tow’rs from the earth, and rearing to the skies
 Its conscious strength, the tempest’s wrath defies.
 Its ample branches shield the fowls of air,
 To its cool shade the panting herds repair.
 The treacherous current works its noiseless way,
 The fibres loosen, and the roots decay;
 Prostrate the beauteous ruin lies; and all                           380
 That shared its shelter, perish in its fall.

   O thou! lamented SAGE! whose prescient scan
 Pierc’d through foul Anarchy’s gigantic plan,
 Prompt to incredulous hearers to disclose
 The guilt of _France_, and Europe’s world of woes;—
 Thou, on whose name each distant age shall gaze,
 The mighty sea-mark of these troubled days!
 O large of soul, of genius unconfin’d,
 Born to delight, instruct, and mend mankind!
 BURKE! in whose breast a Roman ardour glow’d;               390
 Whose copious tongue with Grecian richness flow’d;
 Well hast thou found (if such thy country’s doom),
 A timely refuge in the sheltering tomb!

   As, in far realms, where eastern kings are laid,
 In pomp of death, beneath the cypress shade,
 The perfum’d lamp with unextinguish’d light
 Flames through the vault, and cheers the gloom of night:
 So, mighty BURKE! in thy sepulchral urn,
 To Fancy’s view, the lamp of Truth shall burn.
 Thither late times shall turn their reverent eyes,                   400
 Led by thy light, and by thy wisdom wise.

   There _are_, to whom (_their_ taste such pleasures cloy)
 No light thy wisdom yields, thy wit no joy.
 Peace to their heavy heads, and callous hearts,
 Peace—such as sloth, as ignorance imparts!
 Pleas’d may they live to plan their country’s good,
 And crop with calm content their flow’ry food!

   What though thy venturous spirit loved to urge
 The labouring theme to Reason’s utmost verge,
 Kindling and mounting from th’ enraptur’d sight;                     410
 Still anxious wonder watch’d thy daring flight!
 While vulgar minds, with mean malignant stare,
 Gazed up, the triumph of thy fall to share!
 Poor triumph! price of that extorted praise,
 Which still to daring Genius Envy pays.

   Oh! for thy playful smile, thy potent frown,
 To abash bold Vice, and laugh pert Folly down!
 So should the Muse, in Humour’s happiest vein,
 With verse that flowed in metaphoric strain,
 And apt allusions to the rural trade,                                420
 Tell of _what wood young_ JACOBINS _are made_;
 How the skill’d gardener grafts with nicest rule
 The _slip_ of coxcomb on the _stock_ of fool;
 Forth in bright blossom bursts the tender sprig,
 A thing to wonder at—[329] perhaps a _Whig_:
 Should tell, how wise each half-fledged pedant prates
 Of weightiest matters, grave distinctions states,
 That rules of policy, and public good,
 In Saxon times were rightly understood;
 That kings are proper, _may be_ useful things,                      430
 But then, some gentlemen object to kings;
 That in all times the minister’s to blame;
 That British liberty’s an empty name,
 Till each fair burgh, numerically free,
 Shall choose its members by _the Rule of Three_.

   So should the Muse, with verse in thunder clothed,
 Proclaim the crimes by God and Nature loathed.
 Which—when fell poison revels in the veins—
 (That poison fell, which frantic _Gallia_ drains
 From the crude fruit of Freedom’s blasted tree)                      440
 Blot the fair records of Humanity.

   To feebler nations let proud _France_ afford
 Her damning choice,—the chalice or the sword,
 To drink or die;—O fraud! O specious lie!
 Delusive choice! for _if_ they drink, they die.

   The Sword we dread not:—of ourselves secure,
 Firm were our strength, our peace and freedom sure.
 Let all the world confederate all its powers,
 “Be they not backed by those that should be ours,”
 High on his rock shall BRITAIN’S GENIUS stand,                   450
 Scatter the crowded hosts, and vindicate the land.

   Guard we but our own Hearts: with constant view
 To ancient morals, ancient manners true;
 True to the manlier virtues, such as nerv’d
 Our fathers’ breasts, and this proud Isle preserv’d
 For many a rugged age: and scorn the while
 Each philosophic atheist’s specious guile;
 The soft seductions, the refinements nice,
 Of gay Morality, and easy Vice;
 So shall we brave the storm; our ’stablish’d pow’r
 Thy refuge, EUROPE, in some happier hour.                         461
 But, FRENCH _in heart_, though Victory crown our brow,
 Low at our feet though prostrate Nations bow,
 Wealth gild our Cities, Commerce crowd our shore,
 LONDON MAY SHINE, but ENGLAND is NO MORE!

[Illustration: _The Republican Rattle-snake fascinating the Bedford
Squirrel._ _The Rattle Snake is a Creature of the greatest subtilty;
when it is desirous of preying upon any Animal which is in a situation
above itself it fixes its Eye upon the unsuspecting object & by the
noise of its Rattle fascinates & confounds the unfortunate Victim till
losing all Sense & discernment, it falls a prey into the Mouth of the
horrid Monster._ Pliny’s Nat. Histr. vol. 365—]


                         FOREIGN INTELLIGENCE.

In the last Address which We shall have to make to the Public, We would
willingly review the whole of what has been advanced by Us under the
different Heads of our Paper, and leave behind us a Summary of our
Opinions upon the state of each subject as We found it, and as We
conceive it to stand at the moment when our labours are concluded.

Upon no point, if We are to speak our sincere opinion, is the task more
easily to be executed, or in a less compass, than in what relates to
Foreign Politics.

In other times, the relations of States to each other have been matter
of great study, and difficulty; have been embarrassed with a diversity
of views, and a complication of interests, which it might require much
experience to calculate, and much political sagacity to reconcile.

At present, there is but one relation among all the States of
Europe:—one, at least, there is so paramount, as to confound and swallow
up all inferior considerations.

FRANCE IS BENT ON THE CONQUEST AND RUIN OF THEM ALL. To repel this
Conquest, to ward off this ruin, various means are tried, according to
the power or the prudence of the different Nations. War, Treaty,
Supplication, Bribery, timid Neutrality, implicit Submission, and,
finally, an Incorporation into the Map of the _Great Republic_, are all
at this moment exemplified in the conduct of the Countries which
surround us.

Our lot, a lot imposed upon us by necessity, but which if it were not so
imposed upon us, whoever is not blind, judicially blind to the conduct
of _France_ towards us, and every other Country, would claim by choice,
is WAR.

The relation in which we may stand to the other States of Europe, or
they to each other, is comparatively of little moment. They may
reciprocate Missions, and propose Treaties,—the _Ligurian Republic_ may
make Peace or War with the _Cisalpine_; the _Cisalpine_ with the
_Roman_;—either of them with the KING of SARDINIA, with _Tuscany_, or
with _Naples_; and the greater Powers may mediate, or embroil the
quarrel, may offer their protection, and talk of their Dignity:—But the
question does not lie there.—_France_ has the power and the will to
controul, to oppress them altogether; to limit or extend their
Boundaries, as she sees good; to approve or annul their Internal
Regulations, as well as their stipulations with each other: And while
she has that power, whether it be by strength in herself, or by the
sufferance of others; whether she may choose to vex and harass them in
mass, or detail; to keep peace between them, or to set them at variance;
to work their revolutions by her own arms, or to delegate that sacred
office to their neighbours; or, finally, to insist upon their performing
it each for themselves;—the result to us is the same. The People of
Europe are equally enslaved;—it matters not whether they are manacled
separately, or bolted to the links of a long chain which connects and
coerces them in a fellowship of misery.

                               _Mortalia corda
                   Per gentes humilis stravit pavor._

To Us, the relation of these unhappy Powers, is either that of Friends
forced into a Foreign Army to fight against us, or placed, hand-cuffed,
on the Deck of a Line of Battle Ship to receive our fire—or it is that
of a Captive languishing in a Dungeon against which We are making an
attack, and who does not dare to acknowledge his Friend, till he can
hail him as his Deliverer.

The Contest between _Great Britain_ and _France_, then, is not for the
existence of the former only, but for the Freedom of the World. To look
to partial Interests, to talk of partial Successes, as bearing upon the
main object and general issue of the War, is to take a narrow and
pitiful view of the most momentous and most tremendous subject that ever
was brought under the consideration of mankind.

If _Great Britain_, insensible of what she owes to herself and to the
World, flinches (for she _cannot fall_), in the Contest;—she throws away
not herself alone, but the peace and happiness of Nations. If she
maintain herself stoutly;—to speculate on the mode, the time, the means
by which success adequate to the immensity of the object at stake is to
be attained, were, indeed, presumptuous;—but We risk, without
apprehension of being thought sanguine in our hopes and expectations, or
of being contradicted by the event, the sentiment of the greatest Orator
of ancient times—“It is not, it cannot be possible, that an Empire
founded on injustice, on rapacity, on perfidy, on the contempt and
disregard of everything sacred towards God, or among Men;—it is not
possible that such an Empire should endure.”

[Illustration]




                        NOTES TO “NEW MORALITY”.


                  JOSEPH PRIESTLEY, LL.D. (page 278).

“I have read a communication from GEORGE III. to one of his ministers,
on the subject of the riots in which PRIESTLEY’S house was burned. HIS
MAJESTY says, in his short emphatic way, that the riots must be stopped
_immediately_; that no man’s house must be left in peril; and then he
orders the march of certain troops, &c., to restore peace; and concludes
with saying that, as the mischief did occur, it was impossible not to be
pleased at its having fallen on PRIESTLEY rather than another, that he
might _feel_ the wickedness of the doctrines of democracy which he was
propagating.”—_J. W. Croker_ (_MS._).—[ED.]


                      MADAME DE STAEL (page 282).

“MADAME DE STAEL was at Mickleham, in Surrey, in 1793, with Talleyrand,
Narbonne, Jaucourt, Guibert (who proposed to her), and others. There was
not a little scandal about her relations with Narbonne (see Fanny
Burney’s Letters). Narbonne’s place was supplied by Benjamin Constant,
who had a very great influence over her, as in return she had over him.
At Coppet, she found consolation in a young officer of Swiss origin,
named Rocca, twenty-three years her junior, whom she married privately
in 1811. She had married Baron de Stael in 1786, and in 1797 they
separated. He died in 1802; and she in 1817.”—_Life of Mad. de Stael, by
A. Stevens_, 1880.

“On the 28th of January” (says Crabb Robinson in his _Diary_, 1804), “I
first waited on MADAME DE STAEL. I was shown into her bedroom, for
which, not knowing Parisian customs, I was unprepared. She was sitting,
most decorously, in her bed, and writing. She had her night-cap on, and
her face was not made up for the day. It was by no means a captivating
spectacle, but I had a very cordial reception, and two bright black eyes
smiled benignantly on me. After a warm expression of her pleasure at
making my acquaintance, she dismissed me till three o’clock. On my
return then I found a very different person——the accomplished
Frenchwoman surrounded by admirers, some of whom were themselves
distinguished. Among them was the aged WIELAND. There was on this, and,
I believe, on almost every other, occasion, but one lady among the
guests: in this instance FRAU VON KALB. MADAME DE STAEL did not affect
to conceal her preference for the society of men to that of her own
sex.”

COUNT D’ORSAY related of MADAME DE STAEL, whose character was discussed,
that one day, being on a sofa with MADAME DE RÉCAMIER, one who placed
himself between them exclaimed: “Me voilà entre la beauté et l’esprit!”
She replied: “That is the first time I was ever complimented for
beauty!” MADAME DE RÉCAMIER was thought the handsomest woman in Paris,
but was by no means famed for _esprit_.—_Crabb Robinson’s Diary._

“MADAME DE STAEL was a perfect aristocrat, and her sympathies were
wholly with the great and prosperous. She saw nothing in England but the
luxury, stupidity, and pride of the Tory aristocracy, and the
intelligence and magnificence of the Whig aristocracy. The latter talked
about truth and liberty and herself, and she supposed it was all as it
should be. As to the millions, the people, she never enquired into their
situation. She had a horror of the _canaille_, but anything of _sangre
azul_ had a charm for her. When she was dying she said; ‘Let me die in
peace; let my last moments be undisturbed’. Yet she ordered the cards of
every visitor to be brought to her. Among them was one from the DUC DE
RICHELIEU. ‘What!’ exclaimed she, indignantly; ‘what! have you sent away
the DUKE? Hurry. Fly after him. Bring him back. Tell him that though I
die for all the world, I live for _him_.’”—_Bowring’s Autobr.
Recollections_, pp. 375–6.

MADAME DE STAEL prepared her _bons-mots_ with elaborate care, some being
borrowed.... She was ugly, and not of an intellectual ugliness. Her
features were coarse, and the ordinary expression rather vulgar. She had
an ugly mouth, and one or two irregularly prominent teeth, which perhaps
gave her countenance an habitual gaiety. Her eye was full, dark, and
expressive; and when she declaimed, which was almost whenever she spoke,
she looked eloquent, and one forgot that she was plain. On the whole,
she was singularly unfeminine; and if, in conversation, one forgot she
was ugly, one forgot also that she was a woman.—_J. W. Croker’s
Note-Books._—[ED.]


                 THE REV. GILBERT WAKEFIELD (page 284).

“It is well known that the French Revolution turned the brains of many
of the noblest youths in England. Indeed when such men as COLERIDGE,
WORDSWORTH, SOUTHEY, caught the infection, no wonder that those who
partook of their sensibility, but had a very small portion of their
intellect, were carried away. Many were ruined by the errors into which
they were betrayed; many also lived to smile at the follies of their
youth. ‘I am no more ashamed of having been a Republican,’ said SOUTHEY,
‘than I am of having been a child.’ The opinions held led to many
political prosecutions, and I naturally had much sympathy with the
sufferers. I find in my journal, Feb. 21, 1799 (says Crabb Robinson):
‘An interesting and memorable day. It was the day on which GILBERT
WAKEFIELD was convicted of a seditious libel, and sentenced to two
years’ imprisonment. This he suffered in Dorchester Gaol, which he left
only to die. Originally of the Established Church, he became a
Unitarian, and Professor at the Hackney College. By profession he was a
scholar. His best known work was an edition of Lucretius. He had written
against PORSON’S edition of the _Hecuba_ of Euripides.’ It is said that
PORSON was at a dinner-party at which toasts were going round, and a
name, accompanied by an appropriate sentence from Shakespeare, was
required from each of the guests in succession. Before PORSON’S turn
came, he had disappeared beneath the table, and was supposed to be
insensible to what was going on. This, however, was not the case, for
when a toast was required of him, he staggered up and gave: ‘Gilbert
Wakefield—what’s _Hecuba_ to him, or he to _Hecuba_?’ WAKEFIELD was a
political fanatic. He had the pale complexion and mild features of a
Saint, was a most gentle creature in domestic life, and a very amiable
man; but when he took part in any religious or political controversy,
his pen was dipped in gall. The occasion of the imprisonment before
alluded to was a letter in reply to WATSON, Bishop of Llandaff, who had
written a pamphlet exhorting the people to loyalty. WAKEFIELD asserted
that the poor, the labouring classes; could lose nothing by French
conquest. Referring to the fable of the Ass and the Trumpeter, he said:
‘Will the enemy make me carry two panniers?’ and declared that, if the
French came, they would find him at his post with the illustrious
dead.”—[ED.]


                       JOHN THELWALL (page 284).

“COLERIDGE and SOUTHEY spoke of THELWALL, calling him merely ‘John’:
SOUTHEY said: ‘He is a good-hearted man; besides we ought never to
forget that he was once as near as possible being hanged, as there is
some merit in _that_’.”—_Crabb Robinson’s Diary._—[ED.]


                      JEAN PAUL MARAT (page 284).

The following remarkable account of this scientific monster is given in
an “Historical Account of the Warrington Academy, an institution in
Lancashire,” published in the _Monthly Repository_, by the Rev. W.
Turner, of Wakefield.

“After the departure of DR. REINHOLD FORSTER, various unsuccessful
attempts were made to engage a foreigner in the capacity of teacher of
the modern languages—a M. FANTIN LA TOUR, a M. LE MAITRE, _alias_ MARA,
and a MR. LEWIS GUERY; but none of them continued for any length of
time.... There is great reason to believe that LE MAITRE, _alias_ MARA,
was the infamous MARAT.... It is known that he was in England about this
time [1774], and published in London “A Philosophical Essay on the
connection between the Body and the Soul of Man,” and, somewhere in the
country, had a principal hand in printing, in quarto, a work of
considerable ability, but of a seditious tendency, entitled—‘_The Chains
of Slavery: a work wherein the clandestine and villainous Attempts of
Princes to ruin Liberty are pointed out, and the dreadful Scenes of
Despotism disclosed, etc.; London, sold by J. Almon.... T. Payne, and
Richardson and Urquhart, 1774._’ MARA, as his name is spelt in the
Minutes of the Academy, very soon left Warrington, whence he went to
Oxford, robbed the Ashmolean Museum, escaped to Ireland, was apprehended
in Dublin, tried and convicted in Oxford, under the name of LE MAITRE,
and sentenced to the hulks at Woolwich. Here one of his old pupils at
Warrington, a native of Bristol, saw him. He was afterwards a Bookseller
in Bristol, and failed; was confined in the gaol of that city, but
released by the Society there for the relief of prisoners confined for
small sums. One of that society, who had previously relieved him in
Bristol Gaol, afterwards saw him in the National Assembly in Paris in
1792.”

Grave doubts have, however, been thrown upon the accuracy of the above
statement by HENRY A. BRIGHT, B.A., in a paper published in the
_Transactions of the Historic Society of Lancashire and Cheshire_, 8vo,
vol. xi., session 1858–9. Yet it was an establishment that might have
attracted such a mind as Marat’s. “At WARRINGTON ACADEMY (says Mr.
Bright), were collected some of the noblest _literati_ of their day.
Here the free thought of the English Presbyterians first began to
crystallize into the Unitarian theology which they have since
maintained. Here, for a time, was the centre of the liberal politics and
the literary taste of the entire county.... The Academy was founded in
1757, and was closed in 1786. It was visited by John Howard, W. Roscoe,
T. Pennant, Currie, the biographer of Burns, &c. The first Tutors
appointed were DR. JOHN TAYLOR of Norwich, Tutor in Divinity, MR. HOLT
of Kirkdale, Tutor in Natural Philosophy, MR. DYER of London, Tutor in
Languages and Polite Literature, whose duties, however, were taken by
MR. (afterwards the REV. DR.) AIKIN, father of the celebrated Physician
and Mrs. Barbauld. DR. PRIESTLEY succeeded DR. AIKIN.”

DR. PRIESTLEY, who is addressed by COLERIDGE as “Patriot, and Saint, and
Sage,” was succeeded by JOHN REINHOLD FORSTER, a German Scholar and
Naturalist, who accompanied Captain Cook in his second voyage, DR.
ENFIELD, author of _The Speaker_, and the REV. GILBERT WAKEFIELD, were
Tutors. Among the students were MR. SERJEANT HEYWOOD; ARCHIBALD HAMILTON
ROWAN, the Irish rebel; the REV. H. MALTHUS; LORD ENNISMORE; SIR JAMES
CARNEGIE of Southesk; MR. HENRY BEAUFOY, etc., all strong Whigs. The
name of neither MARA nor LE MAITRE appears on the Minutes of the
Academy.

For the latest contribution to the history of MARAT’S sojourn in England
we are indebted to the researches of MR. H. MORSE STEPHENS, of Balliol
College, Oxford, who, in his elaborate and painstaking _History of the
French Revolution_ (1886), which includes facts unknown to Carlyle and
earlier historians, gives the following account of that
“arch-destroyer”; but, as he calls him, “a much maligned individual”:—

“JEAN PAUL MARAT,” says he, “was born at Boudry, near Neufchatel, in
Switzerland, on April 13, 1742. His father, who spelt his name ‘MARA,’
was a physician of some ability, and on being exiled from his native
island of Sardinia for abandoning the Roman Catholic religion, had taken
up his residence in Switzerland; and married a Swiss Protestant. JEAN
PAUL was the eldest of three sons; his next brother settled down as a
watchmaker at Geneva, and his youngest brother entered the service of
the Empress Catherine, and distinguished himself in the Russian army
under the title of the Chevalier de Boudry. JEAN PAUL was from his
childhood of an intensely sensitive and excitable disposition, and also
so quick at his books that he became a good classical scholar, and
acquainted with most modern languages. As his chief taste, however,
seemed to be for natural science, he was intended to follow his father’s
profession, and was, at the age of eighteen, sent to study medicine at
the University of Bordeaux. He there obtained a thorough knowledge of
his profession, but devoted himself particularly to the sciences of
optics and electricity. From Bordeaux he went to Paris, where he
effected a remarkable cure of a disease of the eyes, which had been
abandoned as hopeless both by physicians and quacks, by means of
electricity. From Paris he went to Amsterdam, and, finally, to LONDON,
where he set up in practice in _Church Street, Soho_, then one of the
most fashionable districts in London. He must soon have formed a good
practice, for he stopped in London, with occasional visits to Dublin and
Edinburgh, for ten years, and only left it to take up an appointment at
the French court. While in London he wrote his first book, and in 1772
and 1773, he published the first two volumes of a philosophical and
physiological _Essay on Man_. The point he discussed was the old problem
of the relation between body and mind, and he treated it in a very
interesting manner from the physiological point of view. He held some
extraordinary theory about the existence of some fluid in the veins
which acted on the mind; which, however, does not impair the interest of
his inquiries into the cause of dreams, or diminish the respect felt for
his wide reading and extensive knowledge both of ancient and modern
philosophical and medical authors. He shows a wide knowledge of Latin
and Greek literature, and while writing in good English freely quotes
French, German, Italian, and Spanish writers. In one part of his book he
declared that it was ridiculous for any one to make psychical researches
without having some knowledge of anatomy and physiology, and openly
attacked HELVÉTIUS for despising scientific knowledge in his famous _De
l’Esprit_. VOLTAIRE naturally took the side of HELVÉTIUS, and did the
young author the honour of noticing, and very severely criticising, his
book. MARAT himself translated it into French, and published it at
Amsterdam in 1775. His next work was of a political character. He had
got mixed up with some of the popular societies in England, which were
striving to obtain a thorough reform of the representation of the people
in the House of Commons, and, in 1774, published a work, which he
entitled THE CHAINS OF SLAVERY. In this book, which is partly historical
and partly political, he begs the electors to take more care in the
choice of their representatives. It is written in a very declamatory
style, and strikes the note of the responsibility of representatives to
their constituents, which is the key-note of all his political ideas.
The book is published in quarto, and is printed on fine paper, so that
it can hardly have been meant to appeal to the populace, but it,
nevertheless, procured him the honorary membership of the popular
societies of _Newcastle_ and other great northern cities. Subsequently
he again returned to his profession, and after publishing a medical
tract in 1775, of which no copy is known to exist, he published _An
Inquiry into the Nature, Cause, and Cure of a singular Disease of the
Eyes_, in 1776. [See _Academy_ of September 23, 1882.] In this little
pamphlet there is no violent language; it describes the disease and the
cases he had cured in perfectly simple language, and shows, at least,
that he was no mere quack, but a scientific physician. On June 30, 1775,
he had, while on a visit to _Scotland_, received the honorary degree of
M.D. from the _University of St. Andrews_ for his eminence as a doctor,
and had probably received similar compliments from other Universities,
because, on June 24, 1777, JEAN PAUL MARAT, ‘médecin de plusieurs
facultés d’Angleterre,’ was appointed, for his good character and high
reputation as a doctor, physician to the body-guard of the Comte
d’Artois, with a salary of a thousand livres a year and allowances. To
take up this court appointment he moved to Paris, and soon acquired a
large practice there, and the name of ‘physician of the incurables,’
from the number of hopeless cases he was successful in treating. He also
moved in the best society about the court, and won the affections of the
_Marquise de l’Aubespine_ for saving her life. For some reason or other,
most probably because he had obtained a competent fortune, and desired
to satisfy his ambition, he resigned his court appointment in 1783, and
devoted himself to science. He had long observed the phenomena of Heat,
Light, and Electricity, and in the course of the next five years
published the result of his experiments, and presented them to the
_Academy of Sciences_. His hard work won him the friendship of BENJAMIN
FRANKLIN, but the violence with which he attacked his adversaries, and
his audacity in doubting the conclusions of NEWTON, prevented him from
obtaining a seat in the Academy of Sciences. When he recognised that
this hostility to himself prevented due recognition of his work, he
determined to win the approbation of the Academy by concealing his name;
and his translation of the _Optics_ of NEWTON, which was covered by the
name of _M. de Beauzée_, and published in 1788, was at once crowned by
the very Academy which had rejected him.

“His political work during these years was confined to a treatise, in
imitation of BECCARIA, on the subject of Punishments. The approach of
the States-General, however, revived his political enthusiasm, and in
the March of 1789, when he believed himself to be dying, he published
his _Offrande à la Patrie_, which was followed in quick succession by a
supplement and other pamphlets. Of these, distinctly the most able is
the _Tableau des Vices de la Constitution Anglaise_, which he presented
to the Assembly in September, 1789. In it he points out what he had
learnt in the popular societies of England, that the English people was
by no means so well governed as it was supposed to be; that the
influence of the king and the ministry was overwhelming through the
extent of patronage, and that the rich there bought seats in the House
of Commons as they bought estates.

“MARAT then felt that he could not express himself frequently enough in
pamphlets, and on September 12 appeared the first number of a journal
written entirely by himself, called the JOURNAL DU PEUPLE, which title
was changed to that of _Ami du Peuple_, or _The People’s Friend_, with
the fourth number.

“To understand the man, it is necessary to get rid of preconceived
ideas. Suspicious and irritable, excitable and sensitive to an extreme,
he attacked everybody, and attacked them all with unaccustomed violence;
but with all this, he was in private life a highly educated gentleman.
The extent of his attainments appears from his numerous works, and it
must be remembered that he could not for years have been a fashionable
physician and held a court appointment without being perfectly polite
and well-bred. His faults arose from his irritable and suspicious
nature, and years of persecution made him half-insane towards the end of
his life; but in September, 1789, he was in perfect possession of his
senses, and the very popularity of his journal showed how congenial his
gospel of suspicion was to the Parisians.”—[ED.]


                       JEAN PAUL MARAT’S SISTER.

The Right Hon. J. W. Croker, in a letter to John Winter Jones, dated
23rd October, 1854, says that COLIN, who had been Marat’s printer or
publisher, “introduced him to Marat’s sister, who was as like her
brother, he said—and as from all pictures and busts I readily
believed—as ‘_deux gouttes d’eau_’. She was very small, very ugly, very
sharp, and a great politician. Her ostensible livelihood was making
watch-springs, but she told me she was pretty easy in her circumstances,
and I either gathered from her, or saw cause to suspect, that she had
some secret charitable help.”—[ED.]


                    LARÉVEILLÈRE-LEPAUX (page 283).

LARÉVEILLÈRE-LEPAUX left orders in his will that his _Memoirs_ were to
be printed and published. His heirs were not proud of the part the
DIRECTOR had played, so, after complying with the terms of his will and
_printing_ the _Memoirs_, they _destroyed the whole issue at once_; and
the only copy extant is the one which, in accordance with the law of
France, was sent to the _Bibliothèque Nationale_ at Paris.


                        THE THEOPHILANTHROPISTS.

These (_Gr._ “Lovers of Gods and Men”) were a sect of _Deists_ which
appeared in France amid the confusion and disorder of the first
Revolution. While the State was indifferent to all forms of Religion,
and the Republican Directory was afraid of the Christianity which
prevailed in the Church, a felt consciousness of the necessity of some
religion led many to adopt a form of worship adapted to Natural
Religion.

“This Sect” (says SOUTHEY, in the _Quarterly Review_, vol. xxviii.)
“began with more circumstances in their favour than ever occurred to
facilitate the establishment of a religion or of a sect. Many persons of
considerable influence and reputation engaged in the project with zeal,
and it was patronised by LA RÉVEILLÈRE LÊPAUX, one of the Directory....
His motives for putting himself at the head of the Theophilanthropists
are said to have been twofold: if the scheme succeeded, he intended to
become their High Priest; and he hated Christianity. Through his means
the Theophilanthropists obtained a decree from the Government giving
them a right of holding their meetings in the Churches, as national
buildings, which were open to any religion, but belonged to none.

“Nearly twenty Churches in Paris were taken possession of; but by
occupying so many, they injured themselves.... They took up too extended
a position, and had neither numbers nor means answerable to the scale
upon which they set out.... Their _Service_ began at noon, and lasted
about an hour and a half. It was, they said, a worship for those who had
no other, and a moral society for those who had. The _Ritual_ consisted
of Prayers, Hymns original or selected from the best French Poets,
readings from their Manual, and Discourses. The _Hymns_ were, in
general, judicious, and set to good music, and the _Prayers_ well
composed; but had their books been stript of all that they had borrowed
from the Gospel, and from the works of Christian writers, they would
have been meagre indeed. In one part of the Service there was a short
pause, during which the congregation were expected to consider each in
silence what his own conduct had been since the last of these meetings.
A basket of fruit or flowers, according to the season, was placed upon
the altar, as a mark of acknowledgment for the bounties of the Creator;
and over the altar was the inscription, _Nous croyons à l’existence de
Dieu, et à l’immortalité de l’âme_.... LA RÉVEILLÈRE, in a speech at the
Institute, declaiming against Christianity, as being opposed to the
liberty of mankind, expressed his wish that a form of religion were
adopted, which should have only _a couple of articles_. He wished also
for a religion without priests; and this, it was pleasantly observed,
would be like a Directory without a Director.

“This was the _Creed of the Theophilanthropists_. And on each side of
it, the following sentences were inscribed in their temples, to take
place of the Decalogue:—

 “‘Adore God, cherish your fellow-creatures; render yourselves useful to
    your
     country.
 Good is whatever tends to preserve man, or to perfectionate him.
 Evil is whatever tends to destroy him, or to deteriorate him.
 Children, honour your fathers and mothers; obey them with affection,
    solace
     their old age. Fathers and mothers, instruct your children.
 Wives, behold in your husbands the heads of your houses. Husbands, love
     your wives, and render yourselves mutually happy.’

“At _Marriage_ the bride and bridegroom were to be coupled with ribands,
or garlands of flowers, the ends of which were to be held on each side
by the elders of their respective families. The Bride received a ring
from her husband, and a medal of union from the head of the family.
There was a rite also for infants.... When a member _died_, the other
members of the Society were invited to place a flower upon the urn, and
pray the Creator to receive the deceased into his bosom. The Decades and
National Holidays were observed by these Anti-Christians, and they had
four Holidays of their own, for Socrates, St. Vincent de Paule, Jean
Jacques Rousseau, and Washington,—oddly assorted names! Two of them,
however, stand well together in this kalendar, for the one, who was a
Christian, established the Foundling Hospital at Paris; and the other,
who was a sentimentalist, a philosopher, and a Theophilanthropist, sent
his own children to it....

“LA RÉVEILLÈRE used to take praise to himself for having, in his
Directorial character, humbled the Pope and the great Turk. The
Anti-Christian language of the Directory, and its persecution of the
Clergy, are imputed to him; so far his colleagues were willing to go
with him; but his zeal for Deism they regarded as ridiculous.... In the
way of pecuniary aid, he could obtain little:—_beaucoup d’argent_ was
what the Directory were accustomed to demand, not to give....

“Their _Service_ at Paris was numerously attended while it was a new
spectacle, and the subject of conversation; but more than two-thirds of
the persons thus assembled were idlers. But this concourse soon abated;
there was nothing attractive in the ceremonies, nothing to impose upon
the imagination or the senses. A propagandist reported from Montreuil
that the readings and orations had been heard by an audience _avide de
morale_, but he had observed with pain that the _matériel_ of the
worship was not what it should have been.... It was got up at Bourges in
better style; the orator there officiated in a white sash ornamented
with blue flowers, before an altar upon which an orange tree was placed:
and at the _fête des époux_, the Theophilanthropists carried _two
pigeons_ in procession, as an emblem of conjugal tenderness, and placed
them upon the altar of the country!”

                  *       *       *       *       *

[The literary association of LAMB with COLERIDGE and SOUTHEY [says SIR
T. N. TALFOURD, in his life of LAMB,] drew upon him the hostility of the
young scorners of _The Anti-Jacobin_, who, luxuriating in boyish pride
and aristocratic patronage, tossed the arrows of their wit against all
charged with innovation, whether in politics or poetry, and cared little
whom they wounded. No one could be more innocent than LAMB of political
heresy; no one more strongly opposed to new theories in morality—which
he always regarded with disgust. The very first number of _The
Anti-Jacobin Review and Magazine_ [this was, however, a new work, by
different hands, but imbued with the same spirit as _The Anti-Jacobin_]
was adorned by a caricature of GILLRAY’S, in which COLERIDGE and SOUTHEY
were introduced with asses’ heads, and LLOYD and LAMB as toad and frog.
In the number of July, 1798 [of the original _Anti-Jacobin_] appeared
the well-known poem of _New Morality_, in which all the prominent
objects of the hatred of these champions of religion and order were
introduced as offering homage to LEPAUX, a French charlatan,—of whose
existence LAMB had never even heard. Not content with thus confounding
persons of the most opposite opinions and the most various characters in
one common libel, the party returned to the charge in their number for
September [of _The Anti-Jacobin Review_], and denounced the young poets
in a parody on the _Ode to the Passions_, under the title of _The
Anarchists_. They are reprinted in the present volume.—ED.]

[The cause of Coleridge, Southey, Lloyd, and Lamb, being thus satirized
as persons of the same politics, was the conjoint publication of their
works. In the spring of 1796, COLERIDGE published vol. i. of his
_Juvenile Poems_, including three Sonnets by LAMB; in May, 1797, there
appeared a new edition, with many poems by LLOYD and LAMB. _The Fall of
Robespierre_, an historic drama, was published Sept. 22, 1794: the first
act written by COLERIDGE, the second and third by SOUTHEY. It is not
difficult to understand why COLERIDGE was so severely attacked by the
Government writers. In 1795, at the early age of 23, he delivered, at
Bristol, some public lectures, reflecting in warm terms on the measures
of PITT. Three of them were published at Bristol at the end of 1795—the
first two together, with the title of _Conciones ad Populum_; the third
as _The Plot Discovered_. The eloquent passage in conclusion of the
first of these addresses was written by SOUTHEY. That he was considered
by ministers a dangerous character is proved by his having been for some
months watched by a Government spy while residing at Stowey, providing
for his scanty maintenance by writing verses for _The Morning Post_. It
was his fortune also to excite the ire of BUONAPARTE, by his
anti-gallican writings in the same paper; and a benevolent intimation of
his danger by Baron von Humboldt and Cardinal Fesch alone prevented his
being arrested while in Italy. (See p. 284.)

SOUTHEY thus alludes to the attack upon him (by GILLRAY, in his famous
caricature), in a letter addressed to C. W. W. WYNN, dated Hereford,
August 15, 1798:—“I have seen myself _Bedfordized_, and it has been a
subject of much amusement. HOLCROFT’S likeness is admirably preserved. I
know not what poor LAMB has done to be croaking there. What I think the
worst part of _The Anti-Jacobin_ abuse is the lumping together men of
such opposite principles; this was stupid. We should have all been
welcoming the _Director_, not the _Theophilanthrope_. The conductors of
_The Anti-Jacobin_ will have much to answer for in thus inflaming the
animosities of this country. They are labouring to produce the deadly
hatred of Irish faction; perhaps to produce the same end. Such an
address as you mention might probably be of great use; that I could
assist you in it is less certain. I do not feel myself at all calculated
for anything that requires methodical reasoning; and though you and I
should agree in the main object of the pamphlet, our opinions are at
root different. The old systems of government, I think, must fall; but
in this country the immediate danger is on the other hand,—from an
unconstitutional and unlimited power. BURLEIGH saw how a Parliament
might be employed against the people, and MONTESQUIEU prophesied the
fall of English liberty when the Legislature should become corrupt. You
will not agree with me in thinking his prophecy fulfilled. Violent men
there undoubtedly are among the democrats, as they are always called;
but is there any one among them whom the ministerialists will allow to
be moderate?” _The Anti-Jacobin_ certainly speaks the sentiments of
Government.’—ED.]

                  *       *       *       *       *


               WORDSWORTH, COLERIDGE, SOUTHEY (page 284).

[“The passionate verdicts given, both _pro_ and _con_, in reference to
WORDSWORTH, COLERIDGE, and SOUTHEY, may now be looked back upon with
some wonder, but all three had made themselves obnoxious to the charge
of renegadism. WORDSWORTH had accepted the office of stamp-distributor
from Lord Lonsdale; SOUTHEY, after attempting to suppress his
demagogical drama of _Wat Tyler_, became a violent Tory, bringing a hot
partisanship into the ranks to which he fled; and COLERIDGE, a
Tom-Paineite in politics and a preaching Unitarian, ended by adopting
all the doctrines of orthodoxy.”—_Sir John Bowring._—ED.]

                  *       *       *       *       *


                        EDMUND BURKE (page 286).

“ADAIR told me a great many things about BURKE, and FOX, and
FITZPATRICK, and all the eminent men of that time with whom he lived
when he was young. He said ... that FITZPATRICK was the most agreeable
of them all, but HARE the most brilliant. BURKE’S conversation was
delightful, so luminous and instructive. He was very passionate; and
ADAIR said that the first time he ever saw him he unluckily asked him
some question about the wild parts of Ireland, when BURKE broke out:
‘You are a fool and a blockhead. There are no wild parts in
Ireland.’ ... There was an attempt to bring about a reconciliation
between him and FOX, and a meeting for that purpose took place of all
the leading men, at Burlington House. BURKE was on the point of yielding
when his son suddenly made his appearance unbidden, and, on being told
what was going on, he said: ‘My father shall be no party to such a
compromise,’ took BURKE aside, and persuaded him to reject the
overtures. That son ADAIR described as the most disagreeable, violent,
and wrong-headed of men, but the idol of his father, who used to say
that he united all his own talents and acquirements with those of FOX
and everybody else, &c.”—See _The Greville Memoirs_, i. 136–7.—[ED.]

[The following remarkable passage occurs in a pamphlet written by TOM
PAINE, entitled: _Thomas Paine to the People of England, on the Invasion
of England; Philadelphia, printed at the Temple of Reason Press, Arch
Street, 1804_.

“The original plan, formed in the time of the Directory (but now much
more extensive) was to build one thousand boats, each sixty feet long,
sixteen feet broad, to draw about two feet water, to carry a twenty-four
or thirty-six pounder in the head and a field-piece in the stern, to be
run out as soon as they touched ground. Each boat was to carry a hundred
men, making in the whole one hundred thousand, and to row with twenty or
twenty-five oars on a side. Bonaparte was appointed to the command, and
by an agreement between him and me, I was to accompany him, as the
intention of the expedition was to give the people of England an
opportunity of forming a government for themselves, and thereby bring
about peace.”—ED.]

                  *       *       *       *       *


                              THE COURIER.

THE COURIER, in the time of the war, was the great paper; it obtained a
large circulation, and consequently exercised considerable influence. It
was started by JOHN PARRY in 1792, and he carried it on for some years
with tolerable success, till he was ruined in 1799 by a government
prosecution for a libel on the Emperor of Russia. It was bought by
DANIEL STUART, who left _The Morning Post_ for _The Courier_ in 1803.
During three years, says he, at the time of the overthrow of BUONAPARTE,
_The Courier_, by the able management of PETER STREET, who was editor
and half-proprietor, sold steadily upwards of 8000 per day; during one
fortnight it sold upwards of 10,000 daily. At the end of 1809, S. T.
COLERIDGE contributed to it some Essays on the Spaniards; and in 1811 he
wrote for it on a salary. At this time the paper was much under
ministerial direction. From about the year 1818 till 1829 _The Courier_
was conducted by W. MUDFORD, with whom WILLIAM STEWART was a proprietor.
After 1819 D. STUART took no interest in it, and parted with his last
share in it in 1822. After the year 1825, JAMES STUART, a Scotch
gentleman of great talent and respectability—the same that unfortunately
killed SIR ALEXANDER BOSWELL in a duel, and was author of _Travels in
the United States_—became editor. True to his principles, he gave in
this capacity every support in his power to the Whig or Liberal party.
He was appointed by LORD MELBOURNE to the situation of Factory
Inspector, which he held till his death, at the age of 74, in 1849. When
JAS. STUART obtained his factory appointment, SAM. LAMAN BLANCHARD
became editor. The paper having become, like other evening papers, less
profitable than of old, the proprietors sold it to the party they had so
long opposed. It took Tory politics; LAMAN BLANCHARD, of course,
resigned; and a few short years were sufficient to destroy a journal
which had once been the most valuable newspaper property in England. Its
last number appeared 6th July, 1842.

It is a curious, but not creditable, circumstance that _The Courier_ was
in the habit of re-printing, from year to year, without acknowledgment,
the able leading articles from _The Liverpool Courier_, written by the
Rev. Richard Watson, secretary to the Wesleyan Missionary Society, by
whom, in conjunction with his friend, Mr. Kaye, this newspaper was
established upon loyal and constitutional principles.

“_The Courier_, in 1814, was supplied by R. Peel, Lord Palmerston, and
J. W. Croker, with political squibs and lyrics, resembling in general
features _The Anti-Jacobin_ and _The Rolliad_. The verses are chiefly
parodies of Moore’s _Irish Melodies_, or of Byron’s songs, and are far
above the ordinary level of such compositions.... The various pieces
were collected and published in 1815, under the title of _The New Whig
Guide_.”—_Croker Papers_, vol. i., p. 58.

This statement contains several inaccuracies. The pieces forming _The
New Whig Guide_ were first collected and published in 1819, _and not in
1815_, for BYRON’S _Fare thee well_ was not written till April, 1816.
The parody on it was entitled _The Leader’s Lament. By the Right Hon.
George Ponsonby_. A. Hayward says in his review of _The Poetry of the
Anti-Jacobin_, in _The Edinburgh Review_, 1858—that “CANNING has been
traditionally credited with the parody of Moore’s. _Believe me, if all
those endearing young charms_, the gentleman addressed being a
distinguished commoner afterwards ennobled (the first LORD METHUEN), who
was far from meriting the character [of a foolish fop] thereby fastened
on him”. The other parodies were by JOHN CALCRAFT, the Hon. W. H.
LYTTELTON, DUDLEY NORTH, M.P., KIRKMAN FINLAY, M.P. for Glasgow, &c. MR.
METHUEN, in return, wrote many clever squibs and parodies against the
Tories, which were collected, under the title of _The New Tory Guide_,
and reproduced, like its rivals in 1819. “Talking of _The Morning
Chronicle_,” says T. MOORE (_Diary, 19th March, 1831_), “PAUL METHUEN
told us he was the author of almost all those about _The Rat Club_;
which are certainly some of the best.”


                               THE STAR.

THE STAR, the first London daily Evening Newspaper, was started in 1788
by PETER STUART, brother to DANIEL STUART, of _The Morning Post_. Its
first editor was ANDREW MACDONALD, author of _Vimonda_, a tragedy, and
other works: and after him another Scottish poet, John Mayne, author of
_The Siller Gun_, was editor. ROBERT BURNS was offered an engagement to
write poetry for it, at the rate of one guinea an article per week. The
arrangement was not completed. It was to PETER STUART that BURNS
addressed his “Poem, written to a gentleman who had sent him a
Newspaper, and offered to continue it free of expense”. The facetious
Bob Allen, of whom Charles Lamb has such pleasant reminiscences, was for
many years a contributor to this paper. Subsequently, DR. A. TILLOCH,
editor of _The Philosophical Magazine_, was for many years editor of
_The Star_. After Oct. 15, 1831, _The Star_ became incorporated with
_The Albion_ newspaper, under the title of _The Albion and Evening
Star_.

_The Star_ was during many years the leading newspaper on the Whig side,
CAMPBELL the poet being one of its writers after 1804, when he was
engaged at a salary of four guineas a week. The clear profits of this
paper in 1820 were said, on apparently good authority, to amount to
£6000.


                         THE MORNING CHRONICLE.

THE MORNING CHRONICLE was, with one exception (_The Public Ledger_,
which started in 1760), the oldest of the daily papers up to the period
of its discontinuance March 19, 1862. The latest number in the British
Museum is dated Dec. 31, 1861.

It was established on Whig principles, 28th June, 1769, by WILLIAM
WOODFALL, who carried it on with great success till 1789.

Woodfall, in addition to other talents requisite to the success of a
newspaper, possessed two, which were of essential service to it, namely,
his prodigious memory, which enabled him to report Parliamentary Debates
without the aid of notes, and the excellence of his Theatrical
Criticisms, which, as MR. FOX BOURNE, in his copious and valuable work
on _English Newspapers_, 2 vols., 8vo., 1887—one to which the editor of
the present publication has been under frequent obligations—says, “are a
neglected mine of wealth for students of Theatrical History”.

On WOODFALL’S death, in 1803, it was sold to JAMES PERRY, who borrowed
£500 from RANSOME & CO., the bankers, and some more from BELLAMY, the
wine merchant—who was also caterer and doorkeeper to the House of
Commons—and entered into partnership with a Charterhouse schoolmaster
named GRAY, who had just received a legacy of £500. With that joint
capital, the two bought _The Chronicle_, the DUKE OF NORFOLK making
PERRY a present of a house in the Strand, which he converted into a new
publishing office. A few other influential Whigs, also, contributed a
further sum, which, as the late SIR ROBERT ADAIR, who is so often
satirized in _The Anti-Jacobin_, and who was a subscriber to the fund,
informed the editor of the present work, was £300.

PERRY was on good terms with his contributors, and made _The Morning
Chronicle_ a more prosperous and influential journal than had ever
before been known in England. GRAY provided the heavy articles, PERRY
those of lighter sort; and after GRAY’S death, which happened when he
had been part proprietor for only a few years, other writers were
employed, among them JAS. MACKINTOSH and SHERIDAN, and in later times T.
CAMPBELL and T. MOORE, who contributed verse, and JOHN CAMPBELL, then a
young barrister, who was the Theatrical Critic, and was still so in
1810. T. CAMPBELL, on coming to London in 1802, was engaged as a
political writer, but this not being his forte, he, with great judgment,
confined himself to poetical pieces, among which were _Ye Mariners of
England_, and _The Exile of Erin_. PERRY had another and equally famous
contributor. In Sept., 1793, S. T. COLERIDGE, then aged nineteen, “sent
a poem of a few lines to PERRY, soliciting a loan of a guinea for a
distressed author,” which prayer was immediately granted. In 1796, he
accepted an offer of Perry’s to write in it, but the arrangement was
never carried out. In later years, COLERIDGE wrote some other poems for
_The Morning Chronicle_, and his friend CHARLES LAMB was an occasional
writer of prose for it.

PERRY continued as the general manager of the paper till his death on
6th Dec., 1821; but before this he had left much of the editing to
others, his first assistant after GRAY’S death being ROBERT SPANKIE,
ultimately attorney-general of Bengal. The next was JOHN BLACK, who had
joined him in 1810; and upon him, when PERRY died, the entire management
devolved.

After PERRY’S death the paper was purchased for £42,000, by WILLIAM
CLEMENT, by whom it was held till 1834, when it was sold to SIR JOHN
EASTHOPE for £16,500.

In 1843, JOHN BLACK was dismissed to make way for ANDREW DOYLE, who had
been Foreign Editor, and had married Sir John’s daughter. Black died in
1855.

On 26th July, 1847, SIR JOHN EASTHOPE, who had been carrying on the
paper at a loss for some time, sold it to the Duke of Newcastle, W. E.
Gladstone, Sidney Herbert, and other influential Peelites. Its new
Editor was JOHN DOUGLAS COOK, who had for some time been one of the
reporters of _The Times_, and who gathered round him a brilliant staff
of contributors, including George Sydney Smythe, afterwards Lord
Strangford, Gilbert Venables, Abraham Hayward, William Vernon Harcourt,
and Thackeray. Its business manager was WILLIAM DELANE, the father of
the clever young editor of _The Times_, JOHN THADDEUS DELANE.

_The Chronicle_ lingered on as a would-be Peelite organ till the autumn
of 1854, when by a curious arrangement, the paper, with all its plant,
was sold to Serjeant GLOVER, for £7500, on the understanding that, if he
continued to support in it the Peelite policy, he should have the money
back with interest, being paid £3000 a year for three years. That
contract soon fell through, as GLOVER preferred to draw a subsidy from
LOUIS NAPOLEON, and to make other experiments. At the close of 1854, the
circulation of _The Morning Chronicle_ averaged only about 2500, while
that of _The Morning Post_ was about 3000, that of _The Morning Herald_
about 3500, that of _The Daily News_ about 5300, that of _The Morning
Advertiser_ about 6600, and that of _The Times_ about 55,000.

The last number of _The Morning Chronicle_ appeared March 19, 1862, when
what at one time had been the most influential journal in the country
altogether ceased to exist.

Of this paper SHERIDAN speaks in _The Critic_, and to it BYRON addressed
a _Familiar Epistle_. For its columns W. HAZLITT wrote some of the
finest criticisms in our own or any other language. Some of the early
_Sketches by Boz_ appeared in it, but they were really commenced in the
old _Monthly Magazine_. DICKENS’S father was one of the staff. HAZLITT
also contributed to it Parliamentary Reports, as at a later period did
C. DICKENS.

Among other distinguished writers in _The Morning Chronicle_ were Lord
Brougham, the Duke of Sussex, David Ricardo, Cyrus Redding, Albany
Fonblanque, James and John Stuart Mill, John Payne Collier, Eyre Evans
Crowe, Charles Buller, Lord Holland, Joseph Parkes, Michael Joseph Quin,
George Hogarth, James Fraser, W. Hazlitt, secundus, Lord Melbourne, W.
Johnson Fox, Henry Mayhew, Lord Palmerston, A. B. Reach, Alex. and
Charles Mackay, Tom Taylor.


                           THE MORNING POST.

THE MORNING POST, the next _daily_ paper in order of date to _The
Chronicle_, first appeared in 1772, and was probably projected by JOHN
BELL. Three years subsequently the REV. HENRY BATE (who took in 1784 the
name of Dudley, and was created a baronet in 1816) joined it, and was
connected with it till the end of 1780, when he quarrelled with his
colleagues, and set up _The Morning Herald_, the first number of which
appeared on Nov. 1 in the same year. In June, 1781, he was sentenced to
a year’s imprisonment for an atrocious libel on the Duke of Richmond. He
was (says Horace Walpole, in his _Journal of the Reign of George III._),
the worst of all the scandalous libellers that had appeared, both on
private persons as well as public. His life was dissolute, and he had
fought more than one duel. Yet Lord Sandwich had procured for him a good
Crown living, and he was believed to be pensioned by the Court. He died
in 1824.

After BATE, as editor, came the REV. W. JACKMAN (or JACKSON)—an equally
discreditable clergyman,—and he was succeeded by JOHN TAYLOR (author of
_Monsieur Tonson_), for whom PETER PINDAR (DR. JOHN WOLCOT) wrote
whimsical verses.

In 1792, MR. TATTERSALL was the responsible proprietor, who, knowing
more about horses and sport than about the elegancies of literature, DR.
WOLCOT continued to be the chief writer; and who, besides his clever
verses, gave much information upon affairs of the prize-ring and kindred
amusements. In 1795, TATTERSALL sold the entire copyright, with house
and printing materials, for £600. The circulation then was only 350
daily.

The purchaser was MR. DANIEL STUART; and MR. CHRISTIE, the auctioneer,
was also a proprietor. Previous to this time, ROBERT BURNS was applied
to, to supply poetry, but none was ever sent. DANIEL STUART was not
twenty-nine when he bought _The Morning Post_; and JAMES (afterwards SIR
JAS.) MACKINTOSH, who was his brother-in-law, and was a regular
contributor, was his senior only by a year.

After 1790, the same ANDREW MACDONALD, who had been editor of _The
Star_, furnished poems, as did WORDSWORTH, SOUTHEY, C. LLOYD, and other
verse writers. At the commencement of 1798, S. T. COLERIDGE—then only
twenty-five—was engaged to contribute poetry. The Odes, _Fire, Famine,
and Slaughter_; _France_; _Dejection_; and that on _The Departing Year_;
with twenty or thirty other pieces, since included in his Poetical
Works, among which was _Love_—one of the most popular poems of this
age—were first published in _The Morning Post_. To these must be added
the first draught of _The Devil’s Thoughts_, a piece afterwards much
altered. About 1800, the paper was supplied with some excellent pieces,
in prose, including Fashionable Intelligence, short pungent articles,
and jokes, by CHARLES LAMB.

In 1798 its sale was over 2000; and so well had DANIEL STUART managed
his property—being exceedingly well served by his principal assistant,
GEORGE LANE—that when he left _The Morning Post_ for _The Courier_, in
1803, the circulation amounted to 4,500. It, therefore, stood higher in
point of sale than any other morning paper, the order in respect of
numbers from high to low being this: _Morning Post_, _Morning Herald_,
_Morning Advertiser_, _Times_. The amount received for it was about
£25,000. According to JOHN TAYLOR, editor of _The Sun_, in his _Records
of my Life_, _The Morning Post_ was afterwards purchased by Government
to silence attacks on the PRINCE REGENT.

Much of the success of _The Morning Post_ was undoubtedly owing to the
writings of COLERIDGE. He afterwards declared that he had wasted the
prime and manhood of his intellect in writing for _The Morning Post_ and
_Courier_. Among his contributions to the former (March 19, 1800) was
his famous character of WILLIAM PITT. The last time he wrote in it was
in August, 1802.

A very competent judge, THOMAS DE QUINCEY, thus alludes to COLERIDGE’S
political writings:—“Worlds of fine thinking,” he says of the daily
press, “lie buried in that vast abyss, never to be disentombed, or
restored to human admiration. Like the sea, it has swallowed treasures
without end, that no diving-bell will bring up again. But nowhere
throughout its shoreless magazines of wealth does there lie such a bed
of pearls, confounded with the rubbish and ‘_purgamenta_’ of ages, as in
the political papers of COLERIDGE. No more appreciable monument could be
raised to the memory of COLERIDGE, than a re-publication of his Essays
in _The Morning Post_, but still more of those afterwards published in
_The Courier_.” These have since been reprinted under the title of
_Essays on his own Times_.




                               APPENDIX.


                        THE ANARCHISTS.—An Ode.

              [A Parody on Collins’s Ode to the Passions.]

             —Numero plures, virtute et honore minores,
             Indocti stolidique et depugnare parati.—_Hor._

    When Anarchy, sworn foe to Kings,
    O’er Gallia wav’d her crimson wings,
    Ere yet she spoil’d with iron hand
    Fair Europe’s desolated land;
    Her offspring here, a spurious brood,
    In faction nurs’d, inur’d to blood,
    Elate with Hope, perplex’d with Fear,
    Would often raise the listening ear;
    And all their mother’s wonders tell,
    And throng around her secret cell,
    Ranting, bribing, whispering, trembling,
    Urging, boasting, and dissembling.
    By turns they felt the Gallic mind
    Enlarg’d, unprejudic’d, refin’d;
    Till once, by all the goddess fir’d,
    Beyond Discretion rapt, inspir’d;
    Seditious, false, and prone to ill,
    They eager snatch’d the grey-goose quill.
    And as they oft had heard apart
    The wonders of Sedition’s art,
    Each, for Madness rul’d the hour,
    Would prove his own subversive power.

    First PAINE his _Rights of Man_ display’d,
        But could no more—for falsely cross’d
    Ev’n by the friends himself had made,
        Enraged he fled to Gallia’s coast.
    Next PRIESTLEY tried, to whom ’twas given
        Mankind’s free-agency to tell;
    Ordain’d to point the road to heaven,
        In pure free will he points—to hell!
    With meagre visage THELWALL came,
        In lectures told his sufferings sore;
    Till purple tyrants blush’d with shame
        And crowds the suffering saint adore.
    But thou, O GODWIN! meek and mild;
            Speak thy metaphysic page:
            Now it cheer’d a laggard age,
    And bade new scenes of joy at distance hail;
        When tyrant Kings shall be no more,
    When human wants and wars shall fail,
        And sleep and death shall quit the hallow’d shore.
            ’Twas thus he strove to sap the throne.
            With borrow’d arts and weapons not his own,
    While Gallia clapp’d her hands, and hail’d her favourite child.

    And longer had he sung—but, strange to say,
        WAKEFIELD, the dragon-fly, rush’d on;
    Eager he sought the bold rebellious fray,
            And burst with anger and disdain
            The web of sophistry in twain
    Which GODWIN, patient sage! had spread
        To catch the fluttering insects of the land.
            Treason upreared her arm to strike,
            Rebellion grasped the murd’rous pike,
        And though, sometimes, each maddening pause between,
            Soft Discretion, joined with Fear,
            Whisper’d her councils in his ear,
        Still Anarchy upheld the busy scene,
    And raised her shield of brass to guard her vot’ry’s head.

    Next HOLCROFT vowed in doleful tone
        No more to fire a thankless age,
    Oblivion marked his labours for her own,
        Neglected from the press and damn’d upon the stage.
    See! faithful to their mighty dam,
    COLERIDGE, SOUTHEY, LLOYD, and LAMB,
    In splay-foot madrigals of love.
    Soft moaning like the widowed dove,
    Pour side by side their sympathetic notes.
            Of equal rights and civic feasts
            And tyrant Kings and knavish Priests
    Swift through the land the tuneful mischief floats.
        And now to softer strains they struck the lyre,
            They sung the beetle, or the mole,
            The dying kid, or ass’s foal,
        By cruel man permitted to expire.
    But O, how altered was the sprightlier hour!
        When FOX, the Parthian hero, rose to view;
            He o’er the rest high-towering like a steeple
        Leagued with a “Corresponding” crew,
    Pledged in large floods of wine “their Majesties—the People”.

    The royal tribe accept the proffered power.
        Kings from the forge, dictators from the plough,
    Peeping from forth their allies low,
        Before the fallen arch-seceder bow;
            LEPAUX bade Gallia hail his name,
            But old St. Stephen bowed his head for shame.

    See NORFOLK last, with BEDFORD roll,
        He of Bacchus’ favours proud,
    The sovereign mob most eloquent addressed;
        But soon he spied the mirth-inspiring bowl,
        Whose ruby treasures charmed his soul the best;
    They would have thought who heard him speak,
            ’Twas Falstaff, with his minions at his back,
            High primed with valour, turbulence, and sack,
    Aping the monarch to a wondr’ing crowd.
    While BEDFORD proud his lesson to rehearse,
            With studious labours urged the bold reply:
            Shouts of applause ran rattling through the sky:
            And he, the hero of the day,
            Right glad their servile suffrage to repay,
    Shook golden bounty from his swelling purse.

    O, England! heav’n-defended land!
    With power to “threaten and command,”
    Say, is thy former spirit broke,
    To crouch beneath a foreign yoke,
    And listen to the idiot strains
    Of slaves thy better sense disdains,
    As erst, in many an ardent hour,
    You awed an adverse haughty power.
    Thy lofty mind, to Freedom true,
    May well retain what then it knew.
    Where is thy former patriot soul,
    Above deceit, above controul?
    Arise! as in that happier time
    United, fearless, bold, sublime.
    ’Tis said, and I believe the tale,
    Thy efforts then could more avail,
    Could more true happiness dispense,
    With Order, Morals, virtue, Sense,
    Than all that fires with party rage
    This boastful philosophic age.
    Arise! with manly zeal advance,
    To curb the lawless power of France;
    O, bid her mad endeavours cease,
    And give the willing nations PEACE!
                                    —_Fabricius._

[Illustration]


                             THE PASSIONS.

                          _An Ode for Music._

                            WILLIAM COLLINS.

                When Music, heavenly maid, was young,
                While yet in early Greece she sung,
                The Passions oft, to hear her shell,
                Throng’d around her magic cell,
                Exulting, trembling, raging, fainting,
                Possess’d beyond the Muse’s painting;
                By turns they felt the glowing mind,
                Disturb’d, delighted, rais’d, refin’d,
                Till once, ’tis said, when all were fir’d,
                Fill’d with fury, rapt, inspir’d,
                From the supporting myrtles round
                They snatch’d her instruments of sound,
                And, as they oft had heard apart
                Sweet lessons of her forceful art,
                Each, for Madness ruled the hour,
                Would prove his own expressive power.

          First Fear, his hand, its skill to try,
            Amid the chords bewilder’d laid,
          And back recoil’d, he knew not why,
            Even at the sound himself had made.

          Next Anger rush’d his eyes on fire,
            In lightnings own’d his secret stings,
          In one rude clash he struck the lyre,
            And swept with hurried hand the strings.

          With woful measures wan Despair
            Low sullen sounds his grief beguil’d,
          A sullen, strange, and mingled air,
            ’Twas sad by fits, by starts ’twas wild.

    But thou, O HOPE! with eyes so fair,
        What was thy delighted measure?
        Still it whisper’d promis’d pleasure,
    And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail!
      Still would her touch the strain prolong,
    And from the rocks, the woods, the vale,
      She call’d on ECHO still through all the song;
        And where her sweetest theme she chose,
        A soft responsive voice was heard at every close,
    And Hope enchanted smil’d, and wav’d her golden hair.

    And longer had she sung,—but, with a frown,
      REVENGE impatient rose,
    He threw his blood-stained sword in thunder down,
        And, with a withering look,
        The war-denouncing trumpet took,
    And blew a blast so loud and dread,
    Were ne’er prophetic sounds so full of woe.
        And ever and anon he beat
        The doubling drum with furious heat;
      And though sometimes, each dreary pause between,
        Dejected PITY at his side
        Her soul-subduing voice applied;
      Yet still he kept his wild unalter’d mien,
    While each strain’d ball of sight seem’d bursting from his head,

    Thy numbers, JEALOUSY, to nought were fix’d,
      Sad proof of thy distressful state!
    Of differing themes the veering song was mix’d,
      And now it courted LOVE, now raving call’d on HATE.
      With eyes upraised, as one inspir’d,
      Pale MELANCHOLY sat retir’d,
      And from her wild sequester’d seat,
      In notes by distance made more sweet,
    Pour’d through the mellow horn her pensive soul:
        And dashing soft from rocks around,
        Bubbling runnels join’d the sound;
    Through glades and glooms the mingled measure stole,
    Or o’er some haunted streams with fond delay,
        Round a holy calm diffusing,
        Love of peace and lonely musing,
    In hollow murmurs died away.

        But oh! how alter’d was its sprightlier tone!
    When CHEERFULNESS, a nymph of healthiest hue,
      Her bow across her shoulders flung,
    Her buskins gemm’d with morning dew,
      Blew an inspiring air that dale and thicket rung,
        The hunter’s call to Faun and Dryad known;
    The oak-crown’d Sisters, and their chaste-eyed Queen,
    Satyrs and Sylvan boys were seen,
    Peeping from forth their alleys green;
    Brown EXERCISE rejoic’d to hear,
    And SPORT leapt up, and seized his beechen spear.

    Last came JOY’S ecstatic trial;
        He with viny crown advancing,
      First to the lively pipe his hand address’d;
    But soon he saw the brisk awakening viol,
      Whose sweet entrancing voice he lov’d the best.
        They would have thought who heard the strain,
        They saw in Tempe’s vale her native maids,
        Amidst the festal sounding shades,
        To some unwearied minstrel dancing:
    While, as his flying fingers kiss’d the strings,
      LOVE framed with MIRTH a gay fantastic round,
      Loose were her tresses seen, her zone unbound:
      And he, amidst his frolic play.
      As if he would the charming air repay,
    Shook thousand odours from his dewy wings.

        O MUSIC! sphere-descended maid,
        Friend of PLEASURE, WISDOM’S aid,
        Why, goddess, why to us denied,
        Lay’st thou thy ancient lyre aside?
        As in that lov’d Athenian bower,
        You learn’d an all-commanding power,
        Thy mimic soul, O nymph endear’d,
        Can well recall what then it heard.
        Where is thy native simple heart,
        Devote to virtue, fancy, art?
        Arise, as in that elder time,
        Warm, energetic, chaste, sublime!
        Thy wonders, in that god-like age,
        Fill thy recording Sister’s page.
        ’Tis said, and I believe the tale,
        Thy humblest reed could more prevail,
        Had more of strength, diviner rage,
        Than all which charms this laggard age,
        E’en all at once together found
        Cecilia’s mingled world of sound.
        O bid our vain endeavours cease,
        Revive the just designs of Greece;
        Return in all thy simple state!
        Confirm the tales her sons relate.

[Illustration]




                  THE ANTI-JACOBIN REVIEW AND MAGAZINE


                            FOR JULY, 1798.

                    MAGNA EST VERITAS ET PRÆVALEBIT.

  _Art. 1. The Republican Judge, or the American Liberty of the Press,
      as exhibited, explained, and exposed, in the base and partial
      Prosecution of William Cobbett, for a pretended Libel against the
      King of Spain and his Embassador, before the Supreme Court of
      Pennsylvania. With an Address to the People of England._

        _By Peter Porcupine. 8vo., pp. 96. Price 2s. Wright, London._

  The past writings of Mr. William Cobbett, who has assumed the
  appellation of Peter Porcupine, are too well known in England to
  require any explanation from us, either of _their_ tendency, or of
  the author’s principles. Were any doubt entertained on the subject,
  nothing more would be requisite to dispel it than a mere reference
  to the comments of all the Jacobin Reviewers; who have, without
  exception, in defiance alike of decency and of truth, lavished on
  them the most indiscriminate censure and the most scurrilous abuse.
  Strange as it may appear, it is indisputably true that the
  individual exertions of Mr. Cobbett have more essentially
  contributed to give a proper tone to the public spirit in America
  than all the efforts of the well-disposed part of the native
  Americans: for a considerable length of time he combated alone a
  host of foes, “himself a host”; stemmed the impetuous tide of
  democracy; and checked the irruptions of French anarchy and atheism,
  which threatened to overwhelm the American States, and, with the
  ruins of their confliction, to crush everything for which the
  Americans, at the period of their revolution, professed to fight,
  and which they have ever since professed to cherish. The adoption of
  such a line of conduct was alone sufficient to draw down upon our
  author the vengeance of all whose treasonable designs his manly
  efforts were intended to defeat. Accordingly, nothing was spared by
  the infuriated advocates of anarchy to injure him in the public
  mind, and, by blasting his reputation, to deprive him of that credit
  which was indispensably necessary to secure the success of his
  works. No imputation however base, no lie however atrocious, none of
  those black and diabolical arts, in short, which, issuing from the
  bubbling cauldron of democracy, were so skilfully employed to
  blacken the first and fairest character in France, as a necessary
  prelude to the establishment of the _virtuous_ republic of the Great
  Nation, were neglected in the _glorious_ attempt to achieve the ruin
  of this worthy individual. When these were found to fail of
  producing the desired effect, recourse was had to personal
  threats—the coward’s weapon—with the hope of inducing him, by the
  means of intimidation, to quit a country in which his enemies
  endeavoured to convince him that his life was daily exposed to most
  imminent danger. But neither the dread of calumny, nor the fear of
  assassination, could lead the object of their persecution to forego
  his laudable design. He manfully persevered, and has at length,
  though not without infinite difficulty, succeeded in opening the
  eyes of the Americans to their own interest, and in the infamous
  machinations of France, and of American traitors in the pay of
  France—for England is not the ONLY country in which foreign gold is
  employed as a stimulus to domestic treason.[330] In the course of
  his exertions to produce this desirable end, honest Peter had
  occasion to comment on the pusillanimous conduct of the Spanish
  monarch, in bending the knee to, and forming an alliance with, the
  base plunderers and assassins of his family, and on the insidious
  and criminal efforts of the Spanish ambassador to strengthen the
  hands of the French faction in America. These comments, it seems,
  excited the indignation of Don Carlos Martinez de Trojo, who
  determined to bring the author to condign punishment; and it was the
  very unwarrantable conduct which the latter experienced on the
  occasion that gave rise to the publication before us.

  PETER begins his tract by stating the dangers to which he knew
  himself exposed, on account of his political principles, when he
  established his residence in the state of Pennsylvania, “where the
  government, generally speaking, was in the hands of those who had
  (and sometimes with great indecency) manifested an uniform
  partiality for the sans-culotte French, and as uniform an opposition
  to the ministers and measures of the federal government”. That men
  should ever be placed in situations of trust and importance, whose
  principles are avowedly adverse to the constitution whence they
  derive their subsistence, and which it is their bounden duty to
  protect, is a circumstance that would excite universal astonishment
  if it did not, unhappily, so often occur. Still the frequency of its
  occurrence does not alter its nature, nor should it be allowed to
  diminish that ample portion of censure which must ever attach to the
  authors of such appointments. It is such conduct as this that
  justifies one of the wisest observations that ever fell from the pen
  of Voltaire—“A GOVERNMENT CAN ONLY PERISH BY SUICIDE”—an observation
  confirmed by the fate of every country that has been recently
  reduced beneath the iron yoke of republican France.

  Aware of his danger, our author thought the best means of averting
  it was, by seeking for some standard, as a safe rule for his conduct
  in respect to the liberty of this press. “The English press was said
  to be _enslaved_; but, when I came to consult the practice of this
  enslaved press, I found it still to be far too free for me to
  attempt to follow its example. Finally, it appeared to me to be the
  safest way, to form to myself some rule founded on the liberty
  exercised by the _American press_. I concluded that I might without
  danger go as great lengths in attacking the enemies of the country
  as others went in attacking its friends: that as much zeal might be
  shown in defending the general government and administration as in
  accusing and traducing them: and that as great warmth would be
  admissible in the cause of virtue, order, and religion, as had been
  tolerated in the wicked cause of villainy, insurrection, and
  blasphemy” (p. 21). Alas! Peter, at this time, knew but little of
  the “spirit and temper,” as MR. BARRISTER ERSKINE would express it,
  of democracy and Jacobinism. He knew not that the men who profess
  those principles are for the most part vindictive, malignant,
  oppressive, and intolerant; and that under the mask of liberty they
  exercise the most insupportable tyranny over their families and
  dependents, and that in their general conduct to their
  inferiors—unless when impelled by interest or urged by ambition,
  they irritate their passions with toasts and flattery, from a
  tavern-chair, or influence their minds by seditious discourses and
  treasonable insinuations, from a tribune or a scaffold—they are
  supercilious, arrogant, insolent, and overbearing. He knew not, it
  would seem, that those whose whole duty is to defend the laws often
  _sleep on their posts_, while their enemies are ever vigilant,
  active, and alert; that when the former are attacked, a tardiness of
  zeal, amounting nearly to torpor, secures, with few exceptions,
  impunity to the assailant; whereas any exposure of the latter draws
  forth a malignity of revenge which is the certain fore-runner of
  persecution. Indeed, the inveteracy of the discontented, of that
  class which includes all those who aspire to the possession of place
  and power, and are little scrupulous about the means of attaining
  them; and all the determined revolutionists or subverters of
  established institutions, may be traced to a natural source. Unable
  to support by reason a cause which reason disavows, unable to
  strengthen by arguments positions which set all argument at
  defiance, it becomes their business to inflame by passion and to
  dazzle with sophistry. Hence arises an extreme facility of exposing
  their weakness and detecting their infamy, and not having the means
  of resisting such exposure, being wholly destitute of the sentiments
  which are necessary for a successful reply, they are reduced to the
  degrading alternative of abandoning the field to a triumphant
  adversary, or of seeking, by the adoption of violent measures, to
  punish the opponent whom they did not dare to encounter. This it is
  that renders revenge an active principle in _their_ minds.

  The first step taken by the Spanish ambassador was an application to
  the federal government to prosecute our author “for certain matters
  published in his Gazette against himself and that poor, unfortunate,
  and humbled mortal, Charles IV., King of Spain”. The government
  consented, and Peter was accordingly bound over to appear in the
  federal district court before _Judge Peters_. Don Carlos, however,
  soon found that his prosecution would be more likely to succeed, if
  brought in a district where the defendant had more personal enemies,
  and where the people were more generally disposed to the adoption of
  revolutionary principles. A memorial was, accordingly, “delivered in
  to the federal government, requesting that the trial might come on
  before the Supreme Court of Pennsylvania, of which Court _McKean is
  Chief Justice_”. Of this _republican_ Judge our author gives such an
  account as must convey to English minds a strange idea of the
  administration of _republican_ Justice. It is to be found in P.
  22—When Britons contemplate the character here delineated, and
  contrast it with the characters of their own Judges to which even
  the licentious tongue of faction has not dared to impute the
  smallest stain, their bosoms must glow with satisfaction of the most
  exalted kind; they must exult in the superior excellence of that
  form of government and of those laws which effectually secure them
  from the evils of a vicious, corrupt, or partial distribution of
  justice. After giving an historical detail of the proceedings
  against him, accompanied by copies of the warrant to apprehend him,
  the imputed libels, the bill of indictment, and the Judge’s charge,
  Peter exclaims—“This, when it comes to be served up in Britain, will
  be a dish for a king. The royalists will lick their lips, and the
  republicans will cry, God bless us! The emigrations _for liberty’s
  sake_ will cease, and we shall have nothing but the pure
  unadulterated dregs of Newgate and the Fleet, the candidates for
  Tyburn and Botany Bay—Blessed cargo! All _patriots_ to the backbone:
  true philanthropists and universal citizens: fit for any place but
  England in this world and heaven in the next!”

  But, notwithstanding the Judge’s charge, the most partial and
  scandalous charge, we conceive, that ever was delivered _out of
  France_, the Grand Jury refused to find the bill, and the
  prosecution of course ceased. The Judge, not less disappointed than
  the prosecutor, on this occasion, took an early opportunity—to his
  infamy be it recorded!—of declaring from the Bench that the Grand
  Jury would not _do their duty_. What would the disaffected in this
  country say were any British Judge to use such language? The gross
  imputations cast upon the character of our author by this
  _impartial_ Judge, have extorted from Peter a tribute of justice to
  himself which the occasion most amply justifies. As the account here
  given perfectly accords with all the information we have received
  from persons of undoubted veracity who know him well, and as it
  fully corroborates the opinion we ourselves have formed of him, from
  an attentive perusal of his publications, we shall extract it for
  the satisfaction of our readers:—“It hardly ever becomes a man to
  say much of his private character or concerns; but on this occasion
  I trust I shall be indulged for a moment. I will say, and I will
  make that saying good, whosoever shall oppose it, that I never
  attacked any one, whose private character is not, in every light in
  which it can possibly be viewed as far beneath mine as infamy is
  beneath honour. Nay, I defy the city of Philadelphia, populous as it
  is, and respectable as are many of its inhabitants, to produce me a
  single man who is more sober, industrious, or honest; who is a
  kinder husband, a tenderer father, a better master, a fonder friend,
  or (though last not least) a more zealous and faithful subject.

  “Most certainly it is unseemly in any one to say this much of
  himself unless compelled to it by some public outrage on his
  character; but when the accusation is made notorious so ought the
  defence; and I do again and again repeat, that I fear not a
  comparison between my character and that of any man in this city:
  no, not even with that of the very Judge, who held me as the worst
  of miscreants. His Honour is welcome, if he please, to carry this
  comparison into _all_ the actions of our lives, public and
  _domestic_, and to extend it beyond ourselves to _every branch of
  our families_.

  “As to my writing, I never did slander any one, if the promulgation
  of useful truths be not slander. Innocence and virtue I have often
  endeavoured to defend, but I never defamed either. I have, indeed,
  stripped the close-drawn veil of hypocrisy; I have ridiculed the
  follies, and lashed the vices of thousands, and have done it
  sometimes perhaps with a rude and violent hand. But these are not
  the days for gentleness and mercy. Such as is the temper of the foe,
  such must be that of his opponent. Seeing myself published as a
  rogue, _and my wife a whore_; being persecuted with such infamous,
  such base and hellish calumny in the _philanthropic_ city of
  Philadelphia, merely for asserting _the truth_ respecting others,
  was not calculated, I assure you, to sweeten my temper, and turn my
  ink into honey-dew.

  “My attachment to order and good government, nothing but the
  impudence of Jacobinism can deny. The object not only of my own
  publications, but also of all those which I have introduced or
  encouraged, from the first moment that I appeared on the public
  scene to the present day, has been to lend some aid in stemming the
  torrent of anarchy and confusion. To undeceive the misguided, by
  tearing the mask from the artful and ferocious villains who owing to
  the infatuation of the poor, and the supineness of the rich, have
  made such fearful progress in the destruction of all that is amiable
  and good and sacred among men. To the government of this country in
  particular it has been my constant study to yield all the support in
  my power. When that government, or the worthy men who administer it
  have been traduced and vilified, I have stood forward in their
  defence, and that too, in times when its friends were some of them
  locked up in silence, and others giving way to the audacious
  violence of its foes. Not that I am so foolishly vain as to
  attribute to my illiterate voter a thousandth part of the merit my
  friends are inclined to allow it. As I wrote the other day to a
  gentleman who had paid me some compliments on this score, ‘I should
  never look on my family with a dry eye if I did not hope to outlive
  my works’. They are mere transitory beings to which the
  revolutionary storm has given life, and which with that storm will
  expire. But, what I contend for and what nobody can deny, I have
  done all that laid in my power, all that I was able by any means to
  accomplish in order to counteract the nefarious effects of the
  enemies of the American government and nation.

  “With respect to religion, altho’ Mr. M’Kean was pleased to number
  it among the things that were in danger from the licentiousness of
  the press, and of course from poor _me_, I think it would puzzle the
  devil himself to produce from my writings, a single passage, which
  could, by all the powers of perversion be twisted into an attack
  upon it. But it would on the contrary be extremely easy to prove,
  that I have at all times, when an opportunity offered, repelled the
  attacks of its enemies, the abominable battalions of Deists and
  Atheists, with all my heart, with all my mind, with all my soul, and
  with all my strength. The bitterest drop in my pen has ever been
  bestowed upon them; because, of all the foes of the human race, I
  look upon them, after the devil, as being the greatest and most
  dreadful. Not a sacrilegious plunderer from Henry VIII. to
  Condorcet, and from Condorcet to the impious Sans-culottes of
  France, has escaped my censure. All those, who have attempted to
  degrade religion whether by open insults and cruelties to the
  clergy, by blasphemous publications or by the more dangerous poison
  of the malignant modern philosophy, I have ranked amongst the most
  infamous of mankind, and have treated them accordingly.”

  In the concluding part of his tract the author clearly convicts the
  Judge of the most decided and most flagrant partiality. He quotes a
  number of infamous libels, on religious and political subjects,
  which had never roused the indignation, nor even excited the
  censure, of those whose duty it is to preserve the public peace and
  to enforce a due observance of the laws. If, indeed, we were to
  judge, from this specimen, of the mode of administring justice in
  America, in matters of libel, we should conclude, that every degree
  of licentiousness is allowed to those who seek to debauch the minds
  of the people, to seduce them from their allegiance, and to dissolve
  every tie which religion and morality have formed for the happiness
  of men in a social state, while the upright supporters of virtue,
  whose labours are directed to the prevention of anarchy and
  rebellion, by detecting the views and exposing the machinations of
  their abettors, are the sole objects not merely of _pro_secution but
  of _per_secution.

  The abuse bestowed on the mild and beneficent sovereigns of these
  realms by the Democratic factions in the American Congress, is
  almost equal in severity to the censures lavished by some members of
  opposition during the _last_ parliament in the British Senate, on
  the Kings of Prussia and Hungary, _before_ those monarchs had become
  allies of _France_.

  The following extracts will, at once, afford a criterion of the
  political principles of public men, in the State of Pennsylvania,
  and a curious specimen of republican _morality_.

  “The _Governor_ (Mifflin) attended at a civic festival, when the
  following toasts were drunk, which were published in most of the
  newspapers.[331]

  “‘Those _illustrious citizens_ sent to Botany Bay. May they be
  _speedily recalled_ by their country in _the day of her
  regeneration_.’

  “‘May the spirit of parliamentary reform in Britain and Ireland
  _burst the bonds of corruption, and overwhelm the foes of liberty_.’

  “‘The _sans-culottes_ of France. May the robes of _all_ the
  _Emperors_, _Kings_, _Princes_, and _Potentates_ [not excepting the
  _King of Spain_] now employed in suppressing the flame of liberty,
  be cut up to make breeches.’

  “This is pretty ‘_decent_’ in a _Governor_; but without stopping to
  remark on the peculiar _decency_ of his toasting a gang of
  _convicts_, let us come to another instance of his conduct, full as
  ‘_decent_’ as this.

  “At the civic festival, held in this city in 1794, to celebrate the
  dethronement of ‘our great and good ally, Louis XVI.’ there were
  ‘assembled,’ according to the ‘_procès verbal_’ which was sent to
  the Paris convention, ‘the CHIEFS, _civil and military_’. This
  _procès verbal_ contains a letter to the convention, in which the
  following honourable mention is made of the governor. ‘The Governor
  of Pennsylvania, that _ardent friend of the French republic_, was
  present, and partook of _all our enthusiasm_ and _all our
  sentiments_.’[332]

  “I believe they spoke truth; for the cannons of the State were
  fired, and military companies, with drums beating and colours
  flying, attended the execrable fête, one of the ceremonies of which
  was _burning the English flag_; and as to the sentiments contained
  in the _oaths_ and _speeches_ (for there were both) they abounded in
  insults towards almost all the princes of the earth, but
  particularly the King of Great Britain.

  “A Judge of Pennsylvania, REDMAN, was, in November, 1795, caught
  thieving in the shop of MR. FOLWELL, the dry-goods merchant in Front
  Street. MR. FOLWELL detected him, took the money ($300) from him,
  and kicked him into the street. His _friends_, among the most
  intimate of whom was His Excellency the Governor, advised him to
  _retire_; and he is still living at his ease about 20 miles from the
  city. No justice was ever done to him; he was never censured, not
  even in the newspapers! Such is the cowardly, base, and worthless
  press of America. Such are _republican judges_, and such is
  republican morality! But this is not the worst. I know a Judge who
  _committed murder_! wilful murder, and that, too, previous to his
  appointment by this our republican Governor!

  “I only give a sort of hint here. One day or other if it pleases God
  to spare my life, I will publish such a collection of facts as will
  shock the universe.

  “A Pennsylvania _Judge’s wife_ had, a little while ago, a child, by
  a man who kept a livery stable. The _lady_ says, the stableman is
  the best of the two and so has married him, though _his Honour_ is
  still living. I need not name the parties, for though the cowardly
  newspapers have never noticed the affair it is notorious enough.

  “There are more bastards born annually in the single state of
  Pennsylvania, than in all the British dominions: and as to
  cuckoldom, I will only say that every paper teems with
  _advertisements of wives eloped_ from the bed and board of their
  husbands. I do not hence insinuate that there are _no good people_
  here. There are many. As many as in most countries; but then people
  will, and do allow, that the morals of the country are approaching
  fast to that state, which has never yet failed to prove the ruin of
  every thing held in esteem amongst men.”

  In proving the falsehood of the assertion so frequently repeated, as
  well on this as on the other side of the Atlantic, that “in
  _America_ the press is _free_ and truth is _not_ a libel,” our
  author adverts to a letter of DR. PRIESTLEY’S on that subject which
  he promises hereafter to expose more fully (a promise which we trust
  he will not forget); and then introduces the following curious
  anecdote, which we extract for the benefit of the Doctor’s political
  friends and admirers in Europe. “But since the Doctor wrote that
  letter it seems experience has changed his opinion. He has suffered
  the just punishment of his malignancy against his country; he has
  been cheated, neglected, and scorned. He is now in an obscurity
  hardly penetrable; he is reduced to poverty and bursting with
  vexation” (may a restless spirit of innovation, springing from, and
  nourished by, a bigotted vanity and a turbulent pride ever
  experience a similar fate)! All this has had an effect; and I will
  state as a fact, which I call upon him to deny if he can, that he
  has lately declared “that _Republican governments are the most
  arbitrary in the world_”! This MACHIAVEL had said before, and this
  all unprejudiced men of reading and observation had long since
  admitted; but, we confess we little expected to hear DOCTOR
  PRIESTLEY subscribe to the creed of the one, or to the
  acknowledgments of the other. Adversity, however, is an able
  advocate in the cause of TRUTH.

  The Address to the People of England, which is prefixed to the
  publication, is short, but pointed and expressive. It breathes the
  true spirit of a Briton. Of the literary merit of the work, after
  the ample analysis which we have given of its contents, and the
  extracts which we have made, little remains to be said. We agree
  with the publisher, who in the Advertisement says: “The author has
  been more anxious to strengthen his arguments than to polish his
  style, to convince the judgment than to flatter the taste,” but
  those critics must be more “_delicate_” or fastidious who can reject
  substantial advantages for fanciful defects. Though Peter aim not at
  embellishments, he possesses great strength and energy of language,
  and generally writes with more accuracy than most of the American
  authors, who, be it observed, have a phraseology peculiar to
  themselves. This tract contains much important information, and we
  strenuously recommend it to the serious perusal of our countrymen;
  particularly to such of them as are disposed to question the
  superior advantages which they enjoy, over ALL republican states
  under our own well-poised and limited MONARCHY. The following
  admonitions with which the author concludes, will, we trust, have a
  due effect on the minds of those to whom they are addressed. “Such,
  _Britons_, is the fruit of republican government _here_; not among
  the apish and wolfish French, but among a people descended from the
  same ancestors as yourselves. When your monarchial government bears
  such fruits, let it, I say, be hewn down and cast into the fire; but
  till that disgraceful and dreadful day comes, watch over it with
  care and defend it to the last drop of your blood, preserve it as
  you would a golden casket, the apple of your eye, or the last dear
  gift of your dying parents. With this I conclude, praying the God of
  our fathers to lead you in the practice of all their virtues, to
  give wisdom to your minds and strength to your arms, to keep you
  firm and united, honest and generous, loyal, brave, and free; but
  above all, to preserve you from the desolating and degrading curse
  of revolutionary madness and modern _republicanism_.”




                        PETER PORCUPINE’S WILL.


  [By WILLIAM COBBETT. Published in _The Anti-Jacobin Review and
  Magazine_; or Monthly Political and Literary Censor: from July to
  December, 1798. Vol. i., pp. 725–8.—ED.]

In the name of Fun, Amen. I PETER PORCUPINE, Pamphleteer and Newsmonger,
being (as yet) sound both in body and in mind, do, this fifteenth day of
_April_, in the Year of our Lord, one thousand seven hundred and
ninety-seven, make, declare, and publish, this my LAST WILL AND
TESTAMENT, in manner, form, and substance following; to wit:

      IN PRIMIS,

I leave my body to Doctor Michael Lieb, a member of the Legislature of
Pennsylvania, to be by him dissected (if he knows how to do it) in
presence of the Rump of the Democratic Society. In it they will find a
heart that held them in abhorrence, that never palpitated at their
threats, and that, to its last beat, bade them defiance. But my chief
motive for making this bequest is, that my spirit may look down with
contempt on their cannibal-like triumph over a breathless corpse.

_Item._ As I make no doubt that the above said Doctor Lieb (and some
other Doctors that I could mention) would like very well to skin me, I
request that they, or one of them may do it, and that the said Lieb’s
father may tan my skin; after which I desire my Executors to have seven
copies of my Works complete, bound in it, one copy to be presented to
the Five Sultans of France, one to each of their Divans, one to the
Governor of Pennsylvania, to Citizens Maddison, Giles, and Gallatin one
each, and the remaining one to the Democratic Society of Philadelphia,
to be carefully preserved among their archives.

_Item._ To the Mayor, Aldermen, and Councils of the City of
Philadelphia, I bequeath all the sturdy young hucksters, who infest the
market, and who to maintain their bastards, tax the honest inhabitants
many thousand pounds annually. I request them to take them into their
worshipful keeping; to chasten their bodies for the good of their souls;
and moreover to keep a sharp look-out after their gallants; and remind
the latter of the old proverb: _Touch pot, touch penny_.

_Item._ To T—— J——son, Philosopher, I leave a curious Norway Spider,
with a hundred legs and nine pair of eyes; likewise the first black
cut-throat general he can catch hold of, to be flead alive, in order to
determine with more certainty the real cause of the dark colour of his
skin; and should the said T—— J——son survive Banneker the Almanack
Maker; I request he will get the brains of said Philomath carefully
dissected, to satisfy the world in what respects they differ from those
of a white man.

_Item._ To the Philosophical Society of Philadelphia, I will and
bequeath a correct copy of Thornton’s plan for abolishing the use of the
English language, and for introducing in its stead a republican one, the
representative characters of which bear a strong resemblance to
pot-hooks and hangers; and for the discovery of which plan, the said
society did, in the year 1793, grant to the said language maker 500
dollars premium. It is my earnest desire, that the copy of this valuable
performance, which I hereby present, may be shown to all the travelling
literati, as a proof of the ingenuity of the author and of the wisdom of
the society.

_Item._ To Doctor Benjamin Rush, I will and bequeath a copy of _The
Censor_ for January, 1797; but, upon the express condition, that he does
not in anywise or guise, either at the time of my death, or _Six months
after_, pretend to speak, write, or publish an eulogium on me, my
calling or character, either literary, military, civil, or political.

_Item._ To my dear fellow labourer Noah Webster, “gentleman-citizen,”
Esq. and News-man, I will and bequeath a prognosticating barometer of
curious construction and great utility, by which, at a single glance,
the said Noah will be able to discern the exact state that the public
mind will be in in the ensuing year, and will thereby be enabled to
_trim by degrees_ and not expose himself to detection, as he now does by
his sudden lee-shore tacks. I likewise bequeath to the said
“gentleman-citizen,” six Spanish milled dollars, to be expended on a new
plate of his portrait at the head of his spelling book, that which
graces it at present being so ugly that it scares the children from
their lessons; but this legacy is to be paid him only upon condition
that he leave out the title of _’Squire_, at the bottom of said picture,
which is extremely odious in an American school-book, and must
inevitably tend to corrupt the political principles of the republican
babies that behold it. And I do most earnestly desire, exhort and
conjure the said ’Squire news-man, to change the title of his paper,
_The Minerva_, for that of _The Political Centaur_.

_Item._ To F. A. Mughlenburg, Esq., Speaker of a late house of
Representatives of the United States, I leave a most superbly finished
statue of Janus.

_Item._ To Tom the Tinker, I leave a liberty-cap, a tricoloured cockade,
a wheel-barrow full of oysters, and a hogshead of grog: I also leave him
three blank checks on the bank of Pennsylvania, leaving to him the task
of _filling them up_; requesting him, however, to be rather more
merciful than he has shown himself heretofore.

_Item._ To the Governor of Pennsylvania, and to the late President and
Cashier of the Bank of the said State, as to joint Legatees, I will and
bequeath that good old proverb: _Honesty is the best policy_. And this
legacy I have chosen for these worthy gentlemen, as the only thing about
which I am sure they will never disagree.

_Item._ To T—— Coxe, of Philadelphia, citizen, I will and bequeath a
crown of hemlock, as a recompense for his attempt to throw an odium on
the administration of General Washington; and I most positively enjoin
my Executors, to see that the said crown be shaped exactly like that
which this spindle-shanked legatee wore before Gen. Howe, when he made
his triumphal entry into Philadelphia.

_Item._ To Thomas Lord Bradford (otherwise called Goosy Tom),
Bookseller, Printer, News-man, and member of the Philosophical Society
of Philadelphia, I will and bequeath a copy of the peerage of Great
Britain, in order that the said Lord Thomas may the more exactly
ascertain what probability there is of his succeeding to the seat, which
his noble relation now fills in the House of Lords.

_Item._ To all and singular the authors in the United States, whether
they write verse or prose, I will and bequeath a copy of my Life and
Adventures; and I advise the said authors to study with particular care
the 40th and 41st pages thereof; more especially and above all things, I
exhort and conjure them never to _publish it together_, though the
bookseller should be a saint.

_Item._ To Edmund Randolph, Esq., late Secretary of State, to Mr. J. A.
Dallas, Secretary of the State of Pennsylvania, and to His Excellency,
Thomas Miffin, Governor of the said unfortunate State, I will and
bequeath, to each of them, a copy of the sixteenth paragraph of
Fauchet’s _intercepted letter_.

_Item._ To Citizen John Swanwick, member of Congress, by the will and
consent of the sovereign people, I leave bills of Exchange on London to
an enormous amount; they are _all protested_, indeed, but if properly
managed, may be turned to good account. I likewise bequeath to the said
John a small treatise by an Italian author, wherein the secret of
pleasing the ladies is developed, and reduced to a mere mechanical
operation, without the least dependence on the precarious aid of the
passions. Hoping that these instances of my liberality will produce, in
the mind of the little legislature, effects quite different from those
produced therein by the King of Great Britain’s pension to his parents.

_Item._ To the Editors of the _Boston Chronicle_, the _New York Argus_,
and the _Philadelphia Merchants’ Advertiser_, I will and bequeath one
ounce of modesty and love of truth, to be equally divided between them.

I should have been more liberal in this bequest, were I not well
assured, that one ounce is more than they will ever make use of.

_Item._ To Franklin Bache, Editor of the _Aurora of Philadelphia_, I
will and bequeath a small bundle of French assignats, which I brought
with me from the country of equality. If these should be too light in
value for his pressing exigencies, I desire my executors, or any one of
them, to bestow on him a second part to what he has lately received in
Southwark: and as a further proof of my good will and affection, I
request him to accept of a gag and a brand new pair of fetters, which,
if he should refuse, I will and bequeath him in lieu thereof—my
malediction.

_Item._ To my beloved countrymen, the people of Old England, I will and
bequeath a copy of Doctor Priestley’s _Charity Sermon for the benefit of
poor Emigrants_; and to the said preaching philosopher himself, I
bequeath a heart full of disappointment, grief, and despair.

_Item._ To the good people of France, who remain attached to their
sovereign, particularly to those among whom I was hospitably received, I
bequeath each a good strong dagger: hoping most sincerely that they may
yet find courage enough to carry them to the hearts of their abominable
tyrants.

_Item._ To Citizen M——oe, I will and bequeath my chamber looking-glass.
It is a plain but exceeding true mirror; in it he will see the exact
likeness of a traitor, who has bartered the honour and interest of his
country to a perfidious and savage enemy.

_Item._ To the Republican Britons, who have fled from the hands of
justice in their own country, and who are a scandal, a nuisance, and a
disgrace to this, I bequeath hunger and nakedness, scorn and reproach;
and I do hereby positively enjoin on my executors to contribute five
hundred dollars towards the erection of gallowses and gibbets, for the
accommodation of the said imported patriots, when the legislators of
this unhappy state shall have the wisdom to countenance such useful
establishments.

_Item._ My friend, J. T. Callender, the runaway from Scotland, is, of
course, a partaker in the last mentioned legacy; but as a particular
mark of my attention, I will and bequeath him twenty feet of pine plank,
which I request my executors to see made into a pillory, to be kept for
his particular use, till a gibbet can be prepared.

_Item._ To Tom Paine, the author of _Common Sense_, _Rights of Man_,
_Age of Reason_, and a _Letter to General Washington_, I bequeath a
strong hempen collar, as the only legacy I can think of that is worthy
of him as well as best adapted to render his death in some measure as
infamous as his life: and I do hereby direct and order my Executors to
send it to him by the first safe conveyance with my compliments, and
request that he would make use of it without delay, that the national
razor may not be disgraced by the head of such a monster.

_Item._ To the gaunt outlandish orator, vulgarly called the Political
Sinner, who in the just order of things follows next after the last
mentioned legatee, I bequeath the honour of partaking in his
catastrophe; that in their deaths, as well as in their lives, all the
world may exclaim: “_See how rogues hang together_”.

_Item._ To all and singular the good people of these States, I leave
peace, union, abundance, happiness, untarnished honour, and an
unconquerable everlasting hatred to the French Revolutionists and their
destructive abominable principles.

_Item._ To each of my Subscribers I leave a _quill_, hoping that in
their hands it may become a sword against every thing that is hostile to
the government and independence of their country.

_Lastly._ To my three brothers, Paul, Simon, and Dick, I leave my whole
estate, as well real as personal (first paying the foregoing legacies)
to be equally divided between them, share and share alike. And I do
hereby make and constitute my said three brothers the Executors of this
my LAST WILL; to see the same performed, according to its true intent
and meaning, as far as in their power lies.

                                                        PETER PORCUPINE.

  Witnesses present,

    Philo Fun,   }
    Jack Jockus. }




                         THE VISION OF LIBERTY.


                  _Written in the manner of Spenser._

[As the virulent style of political writing prevalent ninety years ago
is now but little known, the present edition of _The Poetry of the
Anti-Jacobin_ seemed a convenient medium for giving some specimens of it
which appeared in _The Anti-Jacobin Review and Magazine_, a work
conducted on the same principles, but by different writers, and with the
cognizance of the government. Two of them were by W. COBBETT, who, had
he been less arrogant and contentious, and more consistent, would have
been, in the words of Lord Dalling, “a very great man in the world; as
it was he made a great noise in it”. (See pp. 311–319.)

_The Vision of Liberty_ is by C. KIRKPATRICK SHARPE, an author and
artist much esteemed by Scottish antiquarians, of which specimens only
need be given. Of _The Anarchists_, the author is not known.]

                                I.

      O wretched man, how long wilt thou refuse
      Thy Maker’s favour, and His mercy great?
      How long thy worldly happiness abuse,
      And growl and grumble at thy present state?
      Seeking accursed change both soon and late,
      And newest modes allured still to try—
      England, beware God’s wrath to aggravate,
      For foreign magic blinds thy charmed eye,
      And Liberty, sweet Liberty, is now the constant cry.

                                II.

      As on my couch in slumber’s arms I lay,
      A vision did my senses entertain;
      Of late, me thought in France I miss’d my way,
      Amid a columnless deserted plain;
      No man or beast upon it did remain,
      Swept off by Discord’s wide destroying strife:
      Ne planted fence, ne field of waving grain,
      Marking the toiling farmer’s busy life,
      But ruined huts and castles, brent, were wondrous rife.

                                III.

      Yet on this plain, most goodly to behold,
      Saw I a temple tow’ring to the sky,
      The dome where of was made of basest gold,
      Most false, but yet most lovely to the eye;
      And rotting pillars reareth it on high,
      Of ghastly human heads, and clotted gore,
      With dust, y’mixt the mortar doth supply,
      While foulest birds still round this temple soar,
      And filthy serpents hiss, and giant hyenas roar.

                                IV.

      Among the heads that did the mass compose,
      Three royal skulls were there—one of a king—
      Meek saint, who never once revil’d his foes,
      His bloody foes that him to scaffold bring;
      One of a maid; O heaven! that I could sing
      With Spenser’s tongue, her spotless purity,
      Her holy zeal, in courts so rare a thing,
      By lawless fiends condemn’d she was to die,
      And sent, untimely sent, to seek her native sky.

                                V.

      The third I marked with melancholy eyes,
      A female head, that once a crown did wear,
      Cut off in life’s full bloom, now low she lies,
      The loose loves weeping o’er her early bier,
      Nor Virtue’s self denies a tender tear;
      So young a creature, wonder not she fell,
      And left the paths of chastity severe,
      Debauched by a court where lust did dwell
      Like treach’rous Circe, skill’d in many a witching spell.

                                VI.

      Ah! where are now her gorgeous robes of state,
      The glitt’ring gems that did her fairness deck?
      The cringing nobles that on her did wait,
      The high-born dames that kneeled at her beck?
      Alas! a ghastly face, a bloody neck,
      A simple winding-sheet is now her share;
      Look here, ye proud ones, on this mighty wreck,
      And learn what perishable stuff ye are,
      From her poor mangled carcase, once so sweet and fair.

                                VII.

      And on the ground there lay a murder’d child,
      A piteous sight it was, and full of woe,
      Who, when alive, by every art defil’d,
      With poison, they at last did overthrow,
      Wretches, who never ruth or conscience know;
      O lovely flowret cropt by villain hands,
      How will thy butchers dread th’ almighty brow,
      Arm’d with frowns, when each at judgment stands,
      And God the meed of murder from His throne commands.

                                VIII.

      Then o’er the portal was this motto plac’d,
      “The house of liberty,” in gold y’writ,
      And, vent’ring in, I stood like one amaz’d
      Such sights of horror on my heart-strings smit.
      There Infidelity, in moody fit,
      Hugg’d Suicide—there Rage, and deadly Fears,
      There Lechery, with goatish leer did sit,
      And Murder, quaffing up his victim’s tears,
      With thousand other crimes, too foul for human ears.

                                IX.

      In ’mid the house an image stood in state,
      Like to VOLTAIRE in visage and in shape,
      Wither’d his heart with fellest rage and hate
      Shrivell’d and lean his carcase like an ape
      And numerous crowds upon the same did gape,
      As he all-naked stood to every eye;
      Above an altar covered with crape,
      And formed of his books one might descry,
      Profane and lewd it was, and cramm’d with many a lie.

                                X.

      And still from ’neath the altar roared he,
      As from a bull lowing in cavern deep,
      “Come worship me, _O men_, come worship me;
      Spit on the cross, of Jesus take no keep,
      I promise you an everlasting sleep;
      The soul and body both shall turn to clay;
      Ye penitents, why do ye sigh and weep?
      Let not damnation’s terrors you affray,
      Come learn my lore that drives all foolish fears away”.

             ·       ·       ·       ·       ·

                                XIV.

      Next came that cursed felon THOMAS PAINE,
      Mounted upon a tiger fierce and fell;
      And still a shower of blood on him doth rain,
      With tears that from the eyes of widows well;
      Loud in his ears the cries of orphans yell;
      The axe impending o’er his head alway
      While devils wait to catch his soul to hell,
      The knave is fill’d with anguish and dismay—
      And anxious round he looks, even straws do him affray.

                                XV.

      Then saw I mounted on a braying ass
      WILLIAM and MARY, sooth, a couple jolly;
      Who married, note ye how it came to pass,
      Although each held that marriage was but folly.

             ·       ·       ·       ·       ·

                                XVIII.

      Then came MARIA HELEN WILLIAMS STONE,
      Sitting upon a goat with bearded chin;
      And she hath written volumes many a one;
      Better the idle jade had learned to spin.

             ·       ·       ·       ·       ·

                                XIX.

      Next mounted on a monster like a louse,
      With parchments loaded, came a man of law,[333]
      Sprung from an ancient Caledonian house,
      Cunningly could he quibble out a flaw;
      And this sage man would chatter like a daw,
      To prove the moon green cheese, and black, pure white,
      Spitting out treason from his greedy maw;
      To breed sedition was his chief delight,
      And scratch men’s scabs to ulcers still with all his might.

                                XX.

      Then on an Irish bull of skin and bone,
      A foul churl[334] rode, who still a harp would strum,
      A harp Hibernian, stringless saving one,
      Well tun’d to harsh sedition’s growling hum;
      He hit the bull on which he had his bum
      Full many a bitter pang, nor gave him rest—
      Dealing his blows on Teagues that round him come,
      Grieving the while for man and brute opprest,
      Chaunting the Irish howl, abhorr’d of man and beast.

                                XXI.

      O IRELAND, spot accurs’d—tho’ glorious fair,
      Shines there the sun, the flowers enamell’d blow,
      And scent, with fragrance sweet, the balmy air,
      Rippling the gliding pools that softly flow;
      No noxious reptile there to man a foe
      Abides, but black revenge with cautious plan,
      Cool-blooded cruelty with torments slow,
      Springs rank; with weeds the goodly soil’s o’er-ran,
      And all the reptile’s venom rankles in the man.

                                XXII.

      Then in a gorgeous car of beaten gold,
      Drove on a portly man, of mighty rank,[335]
      A person comely, of extraction old;
      But, carrion-like, his reputation stank;
      Sly was the wight, with crafty quip and crank,
      To cram with glittering coin his bursting bags;
      Yet whilom taxing-men play’d him a prank,
      By catching in their traps some strayed nags,
      And eke some livery slaves, in miser’s livery rags.

                                XXIII.

      Then on a turtle came proud London’s Mayor,
      Followed by Aldermen, a frowsy crew,
      Strong smelling of Cheapside, and luscious fair,
      Yet apoplexy made his followers few.
      Long antlers on the head of each man grew,
      So that they seem’d a host of moving horn;
      Anon as on they came they’d mump and chew,
      Stuffing their guts from dawning of the morn,
      Till shades of evening fell—for eating only born.

                                XXIV.

      On a cock sparrow fed with Spanish flies,
      A swilling Captain came, with liquor mellow,
      And still the crowd in hideous uproar cries,[336]
      “Sing us a bawdy song, thou d——d good fellow”,
      Incontinent he sets himself to bellow,
      And shouts with all the strength that in him lies;
      The Citizets exclaim, “He’s sans pareilly O”;
      The Citizens in raptures roll their eyes,
      And drink with leathern ears, the fool’s lewd ribaldries.

                                XXV.

      On came these wights, and many more beside,
      Thick as the grains of sand upon the shore,
      Thick as a swarm of flies in summer tide,
      That on a dunghill hive and hover o’er;
      Most had their hides all scall’d, their trousers tore;
      Many sans breeches, shameless trudg’d along,
      And many a noble knave and titled w——e,
      With Irish bog-trotters would crowd and throng,
      Carolling catches base, and filthy French chanson.

                                XXVI.

      Like roaring waves they cover’d all the plain;
      And tho’ equality they still requir’d,
      Each cudgell’d sore his breast with might and main,
      Each to get foremost ardently desir’d.
      Some fell into the dirt, and foul were mir’d,
      The rest rode over them and took no heed.
      Their yells, with patriotic ardour fired,
      So made my flesh to quake with very dread,
      That Morpheus left my couch, and all the vision fled.

The insertion of the foregoing poem (which was never printed) into your
entertaining and useful publication, will much oblige,

                                               Your humble servant,
                                                                   C. K.

[Illustration]




                      INDEX TO THE _ANTI-JACOBIN_.


                   _4th Edition, 1799; 2 vols., 8vo._


                                      A.

  _Abuse_, a new and approved method of conveying, vol. i., p. 502.

  _Acme and Septimius_, or the Happy Union, vol. i., p. 452.

  _Advertisements_: Government strenuously advised to withdraw them from
      the Jacobin Papers, vol. ii., p. 119.

  _Advertisements_, Government, withdrawn from the Jacobin Papers, vol.
      ii., pp. 308, 490.

  _Address_ of City of Londonderry to Lord Camden, vol. i., p. 356; His
      Lordship’s Reply, 358.

  _Ad—r_, Mr. Robert, tries to imitate Mr. Burke’s style, vol. i., p.
      377—fails egregiously—mistakes a coffin for a corpse—transmutes
      the head of the house of Russell into lead, p. 378—writes half a
      letter to Mr. Fox—and puts the world in high good humour, p. 422.

  _Agricola_: his letter on the advantages of a well-regulated economy,
      vol. i., p. 583.

  _Anecdotes_ respecting Lord Duncan’s victory, vol. i., pp. 38, 107.

  _Appropriate_ Speech—See Lord William Russell.

  _Assessed Taxes_: benefits arising from trebling them, vol. i., p.
      16—horrible effects of, vol. i., pp. 347, 503.

  _Assessed Taxes_ evaded by the Duke of Bedford—See _Bedford_, Duke of.


                                      B.

  _Bachelor_: his letter, vol. i., p. 258—his definition of a patriot,
      vol. i., p. 261.

  _Bacchus_: a life of him forged by the _Morning Chronicle_ for the
      diabolical purpose of burlesquing the life and death, and
      resurrection and ascension of Our BLESSED SAVIOUR, vol. i., p.
      220, &c.

  _Ballynahinch_, a _loyal_ town of Lord Moira’s—a meeting of rebel
      delegates held there, vol. i., p. 83.

  _Ballynahinch_, a new song, vol. ii., p. 603.

  _Ballynahinchers_: loyal countenances of, read by Lord Moira, vol.
      ii., p. 507—loyal professions of, heard by ditto—rob the king’s
      stores—debauch his troops—attack them, and are cut to pieces, vol.
      ii., p. 519.

  _Bedford_, Duke of: his Surcharge of 25 Servants and 17 Horses, vol
      i., pp. 230, 254.

  _Bedford_, Duke of: justified for evading the Assessed Taxes, by the
      _Morning Post_, vol. i., p. 255—and by the _Morning Chronicle_, p.
      297—proved to have gained much honour by evading the Assessed
      Taxes, by the _Morning Post_, vol. i., p. 256—cleared from any
      attempt to evade the Assessed Taxes, by a note of admiration, by
      the _Courier_, p. 350.

  _Beresford_, Mr., character of him, vol. ii., p. 556.

  _Bit_ of an Ode to Mr. Fox, vol. i., p. 422.

  _Blockade_ of the Seine, vol. i., pp. 571, 616.

  _Blasphemy_ attempted without success by the _Morning Post_, vol. i.,
      p. 505—and by the _Courier_—fully succeeded in by the _Morning
      Chronicle_, vol. i., p. 325, &c.

  _Bosville_, Mr., Banker to the Corresponding Society, vol. i., p. 409.

  _Brownrigg_, Mrs.: Inscription for the Door of her Cell in Newgate,
      vol. i., p. 35.

  _British Merchant_, his Letter on the misrepresentations of the Party,
      with respect to the continuance of the War, vol. i., p. 593.

  _Brissot’s_ Ghost, vol. ii., p. 236.

  _Burdett_, Sir Something: his affectionate mention of Mr. Paine at the
      Shakespeare Tavern, vol. i., p. 136.

  _Burdett_, Sir Francis, runner to the Corresponding Society, vol. i.,
      p. 408.

  _Buonaparté_: his health given by Mr. Macfungus, vol. i., p. 35—his
      Letter to the Commandant at Zanté, vol. ii., p. 535.


                                      C.

  _Camille Jordan_, asserts that one of our Jacobin Newspapers is in the
      pay of France, vol. i., pp. 507, 622; vol. ii., pp. 17, 51, 86,
      488.

  _Cambridge Intelligencer_, detected and exposed, vol. ii., pp. 263,
      296.

  _Chevy Chase_; a Ballad to the Tune of, vol. ii., p. 21.

  _Choice_, The: an Ode, vol. i., p. 263.

  _Clare_, The Earl of, Character of, vol. ii., p. 544.

  _Clare_, Earl of: proposes a question respecting the extent of Lord
      Moira’s DUPERY, vol. ii., p. 518.

  _Clever_: See Mr. Robert Ad—r, vol. i., p. 422.

  _Coughing_ and laughing: See Mr. John Nicholls, vol. i., p. 186.

  _Courtney_, Mr., fully convicted of kidnapping—rhymes, vol. i., p.
      376.

  _Coalition_, The New: an Ode, vol. i., p. 599.

  _Coalition_ of Kings, vol. ii., p. 546.

  _Constant_ Reader: his Letter on the Designs of our foreign and
      domestic Enemies, vol. i., pp. 544, 597.

  _Courier_, The; a mad—and foolish—and odious—and contemptible paper,
      _passim_. Picked up by a Gentleman in the streets, for the sake of
      its superior information!!! vol. ii., p. 230.


                                      D.

  _Detector_: his Letter on the pretended Treaty of Pavia, vol. i., p.
      474—On the Treaty of Pilnitz, vol. ii., p. 37—On the Coalition of
      Kings, vol. ii., p. 546.

  _Description_ of a very extraordinary Plant now growing at Paris, vol.
      ii., p. 573.

  _Description_ of Mr. Fox’s Radical Reform, vol. i., p. 396.

  _Description_ of a Scribbler for the Jacobin Papers, vol. i., p. 613.

  _Description_ of the Jacobin Prints, vol. ii., p. 119.

  _Decius Mus_: his account of the Secessions in the Roman Common
      Wealth, vol. i., p. 261.

  _Dismissal_ of the Duke of Norfolk, vol. i., p. 429.

  _Duncan_, Lord: Anecdotes relative to his Victory, vol. i., pp. 38,
      107.

  _Duke_, The, and the Taxing Man, vol. i., p. 265.

  _Dupery_ of Lord Moira, vol. ii., pp. 36, 518, &c., &c.


                                      E.

  _Edwards_, Mr. Bryan: offers to pay for Mr. Nicholls’ dinner at the
      Crown and Anchor—finds his pockets pick’d—his exclamation thereat,
      vol. i., p. 410.

  _Elegy_ on the Death of Jean Bon Saint André, vol. ii., p. 314.

  _Epigram_ on the Loan upon England, vol. i., p. 267.

  _Epistle_, Poetical, to the Editors of the Anti-Jacobin, vol. i., p.
      371. Reply to ditto, vol. i., p. 371.

  _Epistle_, Poetical, to the Author of the Anti-Jacobin, vol. i., p.
      486.

  _Erskine_, Mr.: his definition of Himself at the Meeting of the
      Friends of Freedom—clothed with the infirmities of man’s nature—in
      many respects a finite being—disclaims all pretensions to
      superhuman powers—has been both a soldier and a sailor—has a son
      at Winchester school—has been called by special retainers into
      many parts of the country, travelling chiefly in post-chaises—is
      of Noble, perhaps, Royal Blood—has a house at Hampstead—faints
      between the subdivisions of his discourse—is conveyed to his
      carriage—tricked by the chairmen who were hired to draw it—and
      finally taken home by his own horses, vol. i., p. 125, &c.

  _Expedition_ against Ostend, vol. ii., pp. 367, 377, 442, 486, 596.


                                      F.

  _Finance_, vol. i., pp. 16, 44, 85, 143, 212, 244, 313, 391, 607; vol.
      ii., p. 224.

  _Foreign Intelligence_, vol. i., pp. 41, 73, 105, 138, 170, 206, 238,
      267, 305, 339, 382, 424, 453, 491, 528, 560, 600, 629; vol. ii.,
      23, 57, 101, 136, 174, 206, 239, 280, 318, 346, 389, 430, 461,
      499, 540, 577, 608.

  _Foreign Intelligence Extraordinary_, vol. ii., p. 535.

  _Fox_, Mr.: his Speech at the Meeting of the Friends of Freedom, vol.
      i., p. 92—his Radical Reform described, 396—Celebration of his
      Nativity at the Crown and Anchor, 408—his Speech, 412—his Song,
      413—A Bit of an Ode to, 422—Lines written under a Bust of him,
      489—his dismissal from the Privy Council, vol. ii., p. 293.

  _French Revolution_, origin and progress of, vol. i., p. 22.

  _French Revolution_, not to be defended or illustrated by a comparison
      with the civil wars of this country, vol. ii., p. 17.

  _Friend of Humanity_ and the Knife-Grinder, vol. i., p. 71.

  _Friends of Freedom_, Meeting of the, vol. i., pp. 91, 125.

  _Freemason’s_ observations on the Duke of Norfolk’s toast, vol. i., p.
      587.

  _Francis_, Mr.: his Novel of a Pamphlet grievously abused by the
      _Morning Chronicle_, vol. ii., p. 338.


                                      G.

  _German_ Stage: see the “Rovers”.

  _Government_ Advertisements: see _Advertisements_.

  _Guillotine_, la Sainte: a new Song attempted from the French, vol.
      i., p. 136.


                                      H.

  _Head_ of the Russells, transmuted into lead, vol. i., p. 377.

  _Higgins_, Mr., of Saint Mary Axe—see “Progress of Man,” “Loves of the
      Triangles,” the “Rovers,” &c.

  _How_ to praise one’s friends, vol. i., p. 397.

  _Horrible_ Effects of the Assessed Taxes, vol. i., pp. 347, 503.

  _Hoche_, General: his Instructions to Colonel Tate, vol. i., pp. 480,
      498.


                                      I.

  _Imitation_ of Horace, lib. iii. carm. xxv., vol. i., p. 627.

  _Instructions_ for Colonel Tate, vol. i., pp. 480, 498.

  _Introduction_, The, vol. i., p. 11.

  _Introduction_ to the Poetry, vol. i., p. 31.

  _Invasion_, The; or, The British War Song, vol. i., p. 103.

  _Ingratitude_, the characteristic vice of Jacobinism, vol. i., p. 579.

  _Italicus_: his letter on the plunder of the French in Italy, vol. i.,
      p. 367.


                                      J.

  _Jacobin_, The, vol. ii., p. 133.

  _Jacobin_ Papers, an epidemic malady among them, vol. ii., p. 120.


                                      L.

  _Latin_ Verses, De Navali Laude Britanniæ, vol. ii., p. 604.

  _Lead_—see _Head of the Russells_.

  _Letter_ to Earl Moira on the state of Ireland, vol. i., p. 77, 109,
      161.

  _Letter_ from Letitia Sourby, vol. i., p. 195—from a Bachelor, p.
      258—from Decius Mus, p. 261—from an Irishman, 299—from Italicus,
      367—from Monitor, 370—from Adolphus Hicks, 380—from a Constant
      Reader, 534—from Agricola, 583—from Speculator, 586—from a
      Freemason, 587—from a Symposiast, 589—from a British Merchant,
      593—from a Constant Reader, 597—from Mucius, 623—from Historicus,
      vol. ii., p. 17—from an Irishman, 35—from a Sucking Whig, 53—from
      a British Seaman, 93—from an Anti-Catiline, 128—from Samuel
      Shallow—from a Friend to the Landed Interest, 269—from Historicus,
      491—from A. Z., on Original Principles with respect to the French
      Revolution, 499—from a Calm Observer, 525—from Hibernicus,
      554—from Perseus, 558—from a Church of England Man, 561—from Cato,
      564—from Hortensius, 573.

  _Letter_ from General Buonaparte to the Governor of Zanté, vol. ii.,
      p. 535.

  _Lies_, vol. i., pp. 46, 115, 156, 178, 217, 248, 322, 346, 395, 453,
      460, 499, 538, 573, 612; vol. ii., pp. 2, 4, 43, 78, 116, 151,
      193, 227, 304, 330, 377, 440, 481, 512.

  _Lille_, translation of a letter from, vol. i., p. 26.

  _Lines_ written at the close of the year 1797, vol. i., p. 330.

  _Lines_ written under the Bust of Charles Fox at the Crown and Anchor,
      vol. i., p. 489.

  _Lines_ written under the Bust of a certain Orator, not at the Crown
      and Anchor, vol. i., p. 490.

  _List_ of ships and vessels belonging to France, Spain, and Holland,
      taken, &c., since the commencement of the war, vol. ii., p. 120.

  _Loves_ of the Triangles: a Mathematical and Philosophical Poem, vol.
      ii., pp. 162, 200, 274.


                                      M.

  _Manners_ and Character of the Age, vol. ii., p. 564.

  _Marten_, Henry: inscription for his apartment in Chepstow Castle,
      vol. i., p. 35.

  _Macfungus_, Mr.: his speech at the meeting of the Friends of Freedom,
      vol. i., p. 131.

  _Meeting_ of the Friends of Freedom, vol. i., pp. 91, 125.

  _Misrepresentations_, vol. i., pp. 19, 47, 117, 157, 180, 218, 252,
      293, 324, 347, 396, 436, 470, 501, 541, 577, 615; vol. ii., pp. 8,
      46, 79, 121, 154, 195, 231, 307, 333, 441, 484, 515 597.

  _Mistakes_, vol. i., pp. 56, 124, 159, 188, 221, 257, 351, 397, 439,
      473, 504, 543, 581, 620; vol. ii., pp. 12, 48, 84, 126, 154, 199,
      235, 308, 338, 385, 443, 484, 519.

  _Misapprehension_ on the subject of the proposed Increase of the
      Assessed Taxes, vol. i., p. 190.

  _Moira_, Lord: the singularity of his conduct, vol. i., p. 58—his
      story of the Child and the Rush Light contradicted, p. 188—his
      weakness, p. 252—lays it down as a general principle, that the
      liberty of the press is destroyed in Ireland, p. 274—is referred
      to the Press and the Dublin Evening Post, p. 275—famous for acting
      a bull, vol. ii., p. 14—duped to an extraordinary degree, p. 86—a
      great physiognomist, p. 517—a great dupe, p. 518, &c., &c., &c.

  _Moira_, Lord: Letter to, on the State of Ireland, vol. i., pp. 77,
      109, 161.

  _Moira_, Lord: Ode to, vol. i., p. 380.

  _Moira_, the late Earl of: his account of the celebrated enchantress,
      Moll Coggin, vol. i., p. 299.

  _Moll Coggin_: the late Earl of Moira’s account of her, vol. i., p.
      299.

  _Morning Chronicle_, calls the Thanksgiving for Lord Duncan’s Victory
      a _Frenchified Farce_, vol. i., p. 157—insults the King—maligns
      the Parliament—belies the Resources—ridicules and reviles the
      spirit of the Nation—advises unconditional submission to
      France—declares that our arms are without energy, our hearts
      without courage, and our sword at the service of every puny
      whipster, vol. ii., p. 85, &c.

  _Morning Chronicle_: its impiety—its blasphemy—its falsehood—its
      historical, geographical, and political ignorance—its insolence,
      baseness, and stupidity—_passim_, _passim_.

  _Morning Chronicle_, the editor of: why called the Père du Chène, vol.
      ii., p. 471.

  _Muskein_, Citizen: his Consolatory Address to his Gun-boats, vol.
      ii., p. 312—his Affectionate Address to Hâvre de Grace, vol. ii.,
      p. 498.


                                      N.

  _Narrative_ of the Riot at Tranent, vol. i., p. 59.

  _Naval History_, vol. i., p. 222.

  _Neutral_ Navigation, vol. i., pp. 398, 505.

  _New Morality_, a Poem, vol. ii., p. 623.

  _New_ and approved method of conveying abuse, vol. i., p. 502.

  _Neat_ Speech—see _Lord John Russell_.

  _Nicholls_, Mr. John: his faculties confounded by Mr. Pitt’s speech,
      vol. i., p. 47—treated very unkindly by his associates, vol. i.,
      p. 186—has his pockets picked by Mr. Jekyl of his _genuine_ speech
      at the Crown and Anchor—offers seventeen of the _spurious_ ones in
      payment for his dinner at _ditto_—is refused admittance, vol. i.,
      p. 410.

  _Nicholls_, Mr. John: a great Parliament man, but thought to be very
      tart and sour by Mrs. Deborah Wigmore, Mr. Wright’s housekeeper,
      vol. i., p. 553.

  _Norfolk_, Duke of: his speech at the Crown and Anchor, vol. i., pp.
      412, 418—his dismissal, vol. i., p. 429—observations on his toast,
      by a Freemason, vol. i., p. 587—defended by a Symposiast, vol. i.,
      p. 589—curious account of his dismissal from the French Papers,
      vol. i., p. 614; vol. ii., p. 16.


                                      O.

  _Ode_ to Anarchy, by a Jacobin, vol. i., p. 301.

  _Ode_ to Lord Moira, vol. i., p. 380.

  _Ode_, a bit of an, to Mr. Fox, vol. i., p. 422.

  _Ode_ to Jacobinism, vol. ii., p. 53.

  _Ode_ to my Country, 1798, vol. ii., p. 342.

  _Ode_ to the Director Merlin, vol. ii., p. 388.

  _Ode_ to a Jacobin, vol. ii., p. 576.

  _Origin_ and Progress of the French Revolution, vol. i., p. 22.


                                      P.

  _Pavia_, Treaty of, proved to be a Jacobin forgery, vol. i., p. 474.

  _Père du Chène_, appellation of: why given to the editor of _The
      Morning Chronicle_, vol. ii., p. 471.

  _Pilnitz_, Treaty of, proved to be a Jacobin forgery, vol. ii., p. 37.

  _Poetry_, vol. i., pp. 31, 69, 103, 168, 199, 236, 263, 301, 329, 371,
      421, 452, 486, 524, 556, 597, 620; vol. ii., pp. 21, 53, 95, 133,
      162, 200, 236, 274, 312, 339, 387, 415, 446, 497, 528, 576, 603.

  _Porcupine_, Peter, a spirited and instructive writer, vol. i., p.
      332.

  _Prisoners of War_, vol. i., pp. 234, 277, 326; vol. ii., p. 310.

  _Prize of Dullness_, vol. i., pp. 421, 448, 522; awarded, vol. i., p.
      552.

  _Progress of Man_, a Didactic Poem, vol. i., pp. 524, 558; vol. ii.,
      p. 97.

  _Proceedings_ of the Whig Club, vol. ii., p. 260.

  _Prologue_ to the Rovers; or, the Double Arrangement, vol. ii., p.
      420.


                                      R.

  _Ram_—see _Sir John Sinclair_.

  _Review_ of the proposed plan of Finance, vol. i., p. 143.

  _Review_ of the Session, vol. ii., p. 583.

  _Rovers_, the; or, the Double Arrangement, vol. ii., pp. 420, 446.

  _Russell_, Lord John, makes a very neat Speech, vol. i., p. 126.

  _Russell_, Lord William, makes a very appropriate Speech, vol. i., p.
      126.


                                      S.

  _Sale_ of the Land Tax, vol. ii., p. 1, 269.

  _Secession_ of the Opposition, observations on, vol. i., p. 36.

  _Secret_ Expedition of British _Savans_, vol. ii., p. 529.

  _Sinclair_, Sir John, embarks with his Ram in the Capricorn on a
      secret expedition, vol. ii., p. 532.

  _Soldier’s Friend_: an Ode, vol. i., p. 169.

  _Song_: a new one, appointed to be sung at all _Convivial_ Meetings
      convened for the purpose of opposing the Assessed Tax Bill, vol.
      i., p. 303.

  _Sonnet_ to Liberty, vol. i., p. 169.

  _Sourby_, Letitia: her letter, vol. i., p. 195.

  _Speculator_: his observations on Cardinal Antici’s letter to
      Buonaparte, vol. i., p. 586.

  _Symposiast’s_, A, defence of the Duke of Norfolk’s celebrated toast,
      vol. i., p. 589.


                                      T.

  _Tate_, Colonel; his instructions, vol. i., pp. 480, 498.

  _Tooke_, Horne: his speech at the Crown and Anchor, vol. i., p. 417.

  _Translation_ of the Latin verses written after the Revolution of the
      fourth of September, vol. i., p. 201.

  _Translation_ of the new song of the “Army of England,” vol. i., p.
      331.

  _Translation_ of a letter from _Bawba-dara-adul-phoola_ to
      _Neek-awl-aretchid-kooez_, vol. ii., p. 532.

  _Treaty of Pavia_, proved to be a Jacobin forgery, vol. i., p. 474.

  _Treaty of Pilnitz_, proved to be a Jacobin forgery, vol. ii., p. 37.


                                      U.

  _Unattached_ Officers, vol. i., p. 362.

  _Unjust_ Aggressions, vol. i., pp. 420, 440, 549; vol. ii., pp. 522,
      600.

  _Union Star_: extracts from, vol. i., p. 352.


                                      V.

  _Verses_, Latin, written after the Revolution of the fourth of
      September, vol. i., p. 201; translation, vol. i., p. 236.

  _Vision_, The: written at St. Ann’s Hill, vol. i., p. 598.

  _Voluntary_ Contributions, vol. i., pp. 465, 534.


                                      W.

  _Weekly Examiner_, vol. i., pp. 19, 46, 115, 156, 178, 217, 248, 293,
      322, 346, 395, 435, 468, 498, 534, 573, 607; vol. ii., pp. 4, 43,
      78, 116, 151, 191, 227, 263, 296, 330, 377, 405, 440, 475, 512,
      596.

  _Wickham_, Mr.: his note to the Helvetic Body on his recal, vol. i.,
      p. 388—answer to ditto, vol. i., p. 426.

  _Wigmore_, Deborah, housekeeper to Mr. Wright, awards the Prize of
      Dullness, vol. i., p. 552.




                            INDEX TO VOL. I.
                                 OF THE
                  _ANTI-JACOBIN REVIEW AND MAGAZINE_.


[This Index and the two preceding articles (by W. Cobbett, pp. 311–319)
are reprinted in order to show that the same spirit which pervaded _The
Anti-Jacobin_ was continued in its successor, _The Anti-Jacobin Review
and Magazine_, although the Editor and Contributors were different.]


                                   A.

 Alfred—Letters of Ghost of, reviewed, No. 1, p. 62;
     object of, 63;
     opinion concerning Erskine;
     ditto, concerning the acquittals, 1794;
   Letters, Monthly Review of, reviewed, 68.

 Algernon Sidney, an enthusiast in Republicanism, 451;
   illegally condemned, 452.

 Almanack of revolutions, 789;
   illustrates the wild system of innovation, _ib._;
   account of Switzerland, 792.

 America, 4;
   infected by French principles;
   Congress of, democratic members abuse our sovereign, 14;
   buildings described, 222.

 American Annual Register, 829;
   composed by Calender, a refugee Scotch democrat;
   assertions, false;
   reasoning, trivial;
   language and manner, coarse and vulgar, 830;
   author tries to be witty on Burke, 833;
   praises Jefferson, Tom Paine, and the French Revolutionists, _ib._

 Analytical Review analysed, 3;
   Review of Wakefield’s reply, reviewed, 75;
   idea of the constituents of independence, 76;
   consistently with itself ridicules prayer, 77;
   Analytical Reviewers, not critics, but partisans, 83;
   endeavour to influence juries, 84;
   enraged for the prosecution of Johnson, 85;
   give no account of the books they censure, 86;
   Analytical Reviewer of Godwin’s Memoirs, illustrates his own morals,
      politics, and religion, 99;
   expects a time when Mrs. Wollstonecraft’s conduct will be admired,
      _ib._;
   asserts the proceedings of the French Directory and English
      Government to be the same, 182;
   abuses due laws and government, _ib._;
   declamatory abuse of Mr. Gifford’s address, 185;
   whom the Analytical think the friends of liberty, 186;
   praises Charlotte Smith’s _Delmont_, 190;
   attacks Murphy’s _Arminius_, 193;
   Abuses Bowdler’s _Reform of Ruin_, 195;
   Invective of, against Peter Porcupine, _ib._;
   tries wit, 197;
   blasphemous comparison by, of Godwin, to the Supreme Being, 335;
   God of, not the God of Christians, _ib._;
   abuses Peter Porcupine, 342;
   principles of, 344;
   praises of Jones, the itinerant lecturer, 345;
   Gerald, _ib._;
   enraged at an allusion to the French faction at home, 448;
   abuses Mr. Noble for praising the gospel, and censuring the English
      regicides, 449;
   exclaims against the punishment of regicides, 450;
   defends Ludlow, the murderer of his king, 451;
   styles a conspirator the fairest character in English history, 452;
   defends the _United Irishmen_, 464;
   abuses Mr. Budworth, for praising the answerer of Paine, 465.

 Anarchists, ode to, 365.

 Anecdotes of Republican judges, 15;
   political, 212.

 Annual Register, New, principles of, 150;
   patronised by H. M. Williams, _ib._;
   conducted by a dignitary of the Church, hostile to our established
      institution, 348;
   anecdote of that conductor, 349;
   praise of Oldfield’s _Defence of Universal Suffrage_, 456;
   high praise of Erskine on the War, 697;
   exposed, 698;
   character of, _ib._;
   remarks on, 700.

 Anti-Gallican Spirit commended, 107.

 _Anti-Jacobin_ newspaper praised, 55.

 _Anti-Jacobin Review_, reason of adopting that title, 1;
   plan of, 3;
   proposes to counteract Jacobinical criticism, 5;
   preface of, to reviewers reviewed, 55;
   object, 56;
   observations of, on the constitution, 60;
   prophesies the destruction of the French fleet by Nelson, 123;
   opinion of, on obedience to constituted authorities, 61;
   opinion of duelling, 153;
   declaration of political principles, 166;
   discusses Locke’s _Opinions on Government_, 167;
   explains the duty of obedience, 169;
   defines the constitution to be what is actually constituted, 170;
   opinion of, on pulpit politics, 304;
   political creed of, 314;
   illustrated and enforced, _ib._;
   states the reciprocal duties of sovereign and subject, _ib._;
   principles of, 315;
   exposes the Anti-Christian doctrines of the Monthly Reviewers, 316;
   canvasses the opinions of Dr. Geddes, 318;
   character of La Fayette, 345;
   declares the _Letter to the Church of England_ the text book of its
      principles, 402;
   recommends to the Bishops to suppress schism among the established
      clergy, _ib._;
   admonishes Mr. Wansey, on his insolent and foolish letter to the
      Bishop of Salisbury, 415;
   admonishes fathers of families to discountenance Jacobinical
      writings, 434;
   proves the authenticity of Scriptures against Socinians and _Deists_,
      439;
   abused by the _Literary Census_, 667;
   reason of the abuse, its support of the Constitution, _ib._

 Aristotle, Gillies’s translation of, reviewed, 253;
   fate of his writings, 255;
   life of, 257;
   analysis of his speculative works, 258;
   error of these works, _ib._;
   organon, 261;
   misunderstood by the school-men, _ib._;
   his zoology, the most perfect of his works, 387;
   sagacious discoveries and comprehensive knowledge, _ib._;
   searches too much for efficient causes, 389;
   ethics and politics, part of the same general system, 390;
   analysis of happiness, virtue, and habit, 391;
   application of principles, 392;
   jurisprudence, 393;
   social affection, 394;
   importance of his work at present, 395;
   inculcates the necessity of subordination, 396;
   anticipates Adam Smith, 397;
   demonstrates the absurdity of the levelling system, _ib._;
   the folly of hasty innovations, _ib._ _See_ Gillies.
   His opinions on commerce, 513;
   honoured agriculture more than trade, 516;
   had he lived in Britain, might have thought differently, _ib._;
   the SAGE THINKS THE FUNCTIONS OF RELIGION THE FIRST IN DIGNITY,
      _ib._;
   doctrines on education little more than copied by succeeding writers,
      517;
   tests of good government, 518;
   refutes the absurd opinion that all men are fitted to govern, 519;
   sentiments on demagogues and faction, _ib._;
   illustrated in the Corresponding Societies and Whig Club, 520;
   admirable book on sedition and revolutions, _ib._;
   addresses the WILL, as well as the UNDERSTANDING, 523.

 Associations, legal, praised, 137;
   address to. _See_ Gifford.
   Exhortation to, 210.


                                   B.

 Barras’ motion, concerning, and cause, 144.

 Barristers, Irish, encroach on the office of the Judge, by laying down
    the law, 540;
   inaccurate, _ib._

 Bedford, Duke of, contributions to the State, 20.

 Bisset, Dr., reply of, to a letter in the _Monthly Review_, 588;
   charges the Priestleyan dissenters with a design to subvert our
      establishment, 590;
   quotes Priestley’s declaration to that effect, _ib._;
   reprobates the metaphysical politics of Priestley’s _First Principles
      of Government_; and Price, on _Civil Liberty_, _ib._;
   vindicates Burke, for opposing the repeal of the Test Act, 591;
   his anonymous antagonist, supposed to be Anthony Robinson, linen
      draper, dissenting preacher, and debating society orator, _ib._

 Blasphemy, punishment of, according to Burn. _See_ Geddes.

 Boaden’s _Cambro Britons_, reviewed, 415;
   just description of invaders and invaded, 416;
   ranting phraseology, _ib._;
   farcical strainings after humour, _ib._;
   admonished to discontinue writing as soon as a relish for works of
      genius shall again prevail, 417.

 Boffe, De, publications of, 845.

 Bond, Oliver, testimony of, 300.

 Book clubs, either through ignorance or design, circulate hurtful
    writings, 475;
   account of one at Maidstone, _ib._;
   proposed regulations for rendering them useful, _ib._;
   praised by the _Monthly Magazine_, 476;
   the praise of that performance renders them suspicious, _ib._

 Bowles, the champion of the British Constitution, reprobated by the
    _Critical Review_, 678.

 Brissot, avowed design to abolish monarchy, 27;
   conformity of French conduct to his declaration, _ib._;
   memorable report of, 512.

 _British Critic_ praised, 343;
   abused by the _Literary Census_, because hostile to atheists and
      levellers, 667.

 Brothers’s Letters to Miss Cott, a fellow lunatic, 568.

 British public characters, reviewed, 634;
   arrogant dedication to the King, 635;
   strange assortment of characters, _ib._;
   imperfect and trifling execution, _ib._;
   bungling daub of Mr. Fox, 636;
   sketch of Mr. Pitt less imperfect, but very inadequate to the
      original, _ib._

 Buonaparte, entirely differs from the great Condé, 32;
   expedition of, 123;
   denies the existence of Christ, 372;
   proclaims his veneration for Mahomet, _ib._;
   original letters from him and army, 647;
   object of his expedition, _ib._;
   legislative talents of, 649;
   campaign of, in Italy, 770.


                                   C.

 Cambridge _Intelligencer_ abuses the most respectable characters in
    Ireland, 130.

 Camille Jordan, address from, reviewed, 180;
   unjustly treated by the _Analytical_, 481.
   _See_ Gifford.

 Catholics, Irish, Grattan’s intrigue with, 39;
   Catholic emancipation a mere pretext, 293.

 Catiline _liberality_ and _moderation_, cant terms of, 443.

 Cato, of Utica, speech against conspirators who invited the Gallic
    nation to invade their country, 441.

 _Census, Literary_, reviewed, 666;
   abuses works and characters friendly to the constitution, 667;
   reviles Messrs. Pitt, Burke, Dundas, and Lawrence, _ib._;
   praises Paine, Sheridan, and Fox, _ib._;
   reprobates the Anti-Jacobin Reviewers for defending order, morals,
      religion, and the British constitution, _ib._

 Chatham, Earl, conduct, character, measures, and success of, 576;
   contrasted with those of Lord Holland, _ib._

 Christian ministers vindicated, 429;
   religion vilified by impious and obscene publications, 435;
   the firmest basis of every virtue, _ib._;
   professors of, adjured to discourage Jacobinism, _ib._;
   writings in vain plead to Jacobinical Reviewers, 437.

 Clare, Chancellor, speech of, 461;
   wise and able, 462.

 Cléry’s _Journal of Louis XVI._, 42;
   animated and interesting, 43;
   Lamballe’s head carried about, 44.

 Cobbett, efforts of, in America, 7.
   _See_ Peter Porcupine.

 Committee, Secret. _See_ Ireland and Irish.

 Connor’s, O’, _State of Ireland_, examined, 463;
   address, ditto, _ib._;
   copious extracts from, by the _Analytical_ Reviewers, 464;
   defends the _United Irishmen_, _ib._;
   testimony at Maidstone, 290.

 _Considerations on Public Affairs_, reviewed, 25;
   author of, anti-Gallican, not anti-Jacobin, 32;
   ditto, 263;
   erroneously considers our contest as with the physical force of
      France only, 264;
   proposes merely a defensive war, 265;
   dangerous tendency of certain positions, 266;
   affected imitation of Burke, 267;
   inaccuracy of language, 268.

 Conspiracy against Social Order, with the part taken by the Jacobinical
    Reviews, 591.

 Constitution, British, its principles illustrated, 468;
   antiquity, nature, and excellence, _ib._;
   history and principle, epochs, 469;
   Mr. Reeve’s assertion respecting, 470;
   the Duke of Norfolk’s, ditto, _ib._;
   Reeve’s principle discussed and defended from English history, 471;
   ditto, from Lord Coke, 472.

 Contributions, voluntary, praised, 135;
   ridiculed by Unitarian dissenters, 136;
   Quakers’, pretence of scruples of conscience shown from their own
      conduct to be unfounded, _ib._;
   proof of loyalty to the king, and attachment to the country, 140.

 Cornwallis, praises the proceedings of his predecessors, 490;
   speech of, 491;
   praises the regulars and militia, _ib._

 _Courier_, abuses the friends of Government, 158;
   conduct of, respecting France, considered, 203;
   justifies the proceedings of France, extols her resources, and abuses
      England, 204;
   patronised by Lord Moira, 205;
   account of the Report of the Secret Committee, 247;
   endeavours to revive the spirits of Jacobins, 486;
   a disgrace to the English press, 376;
   justifies every enormity of the French, _ib._;
   threatens to prosecute the _Anti-Jacobin_, _ib._

 _Critical Review of Wakefield’s Reply_, reviewed, 73;
   praises Wakefield, 75;
   supports Kingsbury’s address to Dr. Watson, 78;
   inveighs against the Bishop, 79;
   remarks of, resemble those of the French regicides, 81;
   great praise of Edmund Oliver, 179;
   commends those parts of Monboddo’s _Metaphysics_ which ascribe
      preeminent evil to England, 667.


                                   D.

 David, a painter, gives the Deity the face of Robespierre, 22.

 Democracy, apostrophe to, 35.

 _Derwent Priory_, a novel, frivolous and extravagant, 417.

 Directory, French, account of, 8;
   wish to suppress Cléry’s narrative, 51;
   arrogance of, 122;
   policy of, respecting foreign powers, 124;
   motives of, for proscribing the moderate members, 143;
   arts of, 493;
   tyranny of, 494;
   tries to excite dissension in foreign states, _ib._ _See_ France and
      History.
   Falsehood, injustice, and violence of, to Switzerland, 505. _See_
      Underwald and French.

 Dissenters, political conduct of, 626;
   active members of the Corresponding Society, 631;
   Hardy, the shoemaker, one of their number, _ib._;
   preacher of the tribe appeared to his character, _ib._;
   chief supporters of Thelwall’s lectures, _ib._;
   Paine, once a dissenting preacher, 632:
   Godwin, a dissenting minister, _ib._;
   Gilbert Wakefield, ditto;
   conductors of the _Monthly_, _Analytical_, and _Critical_, ditto,
      _ib._;
   conductors of the _Chronicle_ and _Courier_, ditto;
   abstain from voluntary contributions, _ib._;
   fast increasing, 633;
   the designs of their chief apostles discussed and exposed by Dr.
      Bisset, 590.

 Dissenters, Irish, declared, by Dr. Jackson to be determined
    Republicans, and friends of the French Revolution, 294.

 Dublin, instructions to citizens of, by Grattan, 38.

 Duigenan’s answer to Grattan, _ib._


                                   E.

 Economists propagate principles inconsistent with the well-being of
    society, 4.

 Ego, Counsellor, soliloquy, 355.

 _Emigrant_, a novel, appendix, 741;
   moral, political, and religious tendency of, 742;
   gross and licentious sentiments of, 743;
   supposes the public law of Europe mouldering into ruins, 744;
   proposes the destruction of history to be replaced by romance, 745;
   a vehicle of revolutionary doctrines, 746.

 Emmet’s evidence before the Secret Committee, 299.

 Erskine, supposed author of the _Secession from Parliament_, 19;
   his egotism disgusting, 20;
   his testimony at Maidstone, 28;
   speech of, at the Whig Club, discussed, 526;
   advances a position contrary to reason and truth, _ib._;
   copies the language and rant of Kingsbury, the dissenting minister
      and razor-maker, _ib._;
   his allegations sanctioned by the _authority_ of John Ball, Wat
      Tyler, and John Cade, 527.


                                   F.

 Fantoccini, political, 364.

 La Fayette, praised by the _Analytical Review_, 345.

 Fitzgerald, Lord Edward, transcribes the resolutions of National
    Committee, 293;
   innocence defended by the _Morning Chronicle_, 379.

 Fox, secession of, discussed, 17;
   duty as a member of Parliament, 18;
   conduct of, 19;
   proposed plan of ministry under, 20;
   resentment of, for the dismissal of the Duke of Norfolk, 90;
   observation of, in the Whig Club, concerning associations, 138;
   testimony at Maidstone, 285;
   promulgates his political creed at a tavern, 487;
   adopts Gilbert Wakefield’s opinions, 488;
   sentiments of, respecting Ireland, _ib._;
   thinks the punishments of traitors cruelty, _ib._;
   defence of Lord Edward Fitzgerald, _ib._;
   insult to his constituents, 489;
   libel on parliaments, _ib._;
   abuse of anticipated taxes, 490;
   letter to, 530;
   attachment of, to the accused, and convicted of sedition and treason,
      531;
   reprobated, _ib._;
   conduct at Maidstone, considered, 532;
   contrasted with Pitt. _See_ Pitt.

 France, regicides of, find advocates in our metropolis, 2;
   principles and intrigues of, 4;
   not physical force of, formidable, but moral, 25;
   between monarchy and republic of, difference, of contest, 30;
   state of, Jacobinical, capital of, 33;
   internal state of, 122.

 Fraunces, an American Jacobin, 843;
   lends his wife, _ib._;
   extorts money from a dupe on account of the loan, _ib._;
   conduct of, illustrates Jacobin morality, 844.

 French, a nation of plundering banditti, 124;
   philosophers of, 445;
   Republic, conduct of, to the Venetians, 460;
     to the United Provinces, _ib._;
     to the Germans, 461;
   now the time to crush, 495.
   _See_ Directory and History, army, proceedings of, at Berne, 508.

 Friends of the People, recommend Oldfield’s _Defence of Universal
    Suffrage_, 456.


                                   G.

 Geddes, Dr., chiefly known as an arraigner of the Scriptures, 694.

 Gerald, Joseph, praised by the _Analytical_, 346.

 _Geraldina_, a novel, reviewed, 668;
   ignorance, frivolity, and folly of, 669.

 Gifford, John, preface to, _see_ Jordan’s _Address_, 180;
   a zealous and able champion of our laws, religion, and morals, 181;
   abused by the Jacobins, _ib._;
   address from, to the loyal associations, 183;
   list of Directory for England, Scotland, and Ireland, 184;
   salutary tendency, and ability of execution, 185;
   Second Letter of, to Mr. Erskine, review of, reviewed, 678;
   as a champion of the constitution, he, according to the _Critical_
      Reviewers, deserves no quarter, _ib._;
   attacks the legal champion of opposition, surrounded by his army of
      tropes and figures, misrepresentations, egotism, and anachronism,
      _ib._;
   exposes Mr. Erskine’s falsifications of dates, 679;
   illustrates the wrong conclusions in which the lawyer abounds, 680;
   proves the proceedings of seditious societies and demagogues to have
      been the causes of the proclamation, 1792;
   forcible extracts from, 681;
   refers Mr. Erskine to the Report of the Irish Committee, _ib._

 Godwin, edits the Posthumous Works of his wife, 91;
   inculcates the promiscuous intercourse of the sexes, _ib._;
   reprobates marriage, 93;
   considers Mary Godwin as a model for female imitation, 94;
   certifies his wife’s constitution to have been amorous, 96;
   memoirs of her, _ib._;
   account of his wife’s adventures as a kept mistress, 97;
   celebrates her happiness while the concubine of Imlay, _ib._;
   informs the public that she was concubine to himself before she was
      his wife, 98;
   declares no person in his right senses will frequent places of public
      worship, _ib._;
   morals examined, 331;
   if his principle be granted, his deduction not absurd, 332;
   his principle refuted, 333;
   praised by the _Analytical_, 335;
   compared to the Supreme Being, _ib._

 Government can only perish by suicide, 9.
   _See_ Constitution, Directory.

 Grattan, answer to, 37;
   character and projects of, 38;
   arguments for Catholic emancipation, 40;
   evidence concerning, 298.


                                   H.

 Hamilton, on the United States, 841;
   an able and staunch advocate for the American government, _ib._;
   hostile to France, _ib._;
   persecutions by Jacobins, 842.

 Harper, Goodloe, speech of, reviewed, 421;
   divides revolutionists into philosophers, Jacobins, and
      Sans-Culottes, 422;
   account of the artifices of French agents, 423.

 Hedgehog, Humphrey, abused by the Jacobinical Reviewers, 343;
   causes of their abuse, 344.

 Henshall, strictures of, on the Duke of Leinster’s and Mr. Sheridan’s
    motions, 300;
   character of, 310;
   treatise on the Saxon and English languages, 381;
   proposes the most effectual means of explaining Anglo-Saxon words,
      382;
   proves the Saxon language the spring of pure English, 384;
   marks the changes of the English language, _ib._;
   critique on the _Diversions of Purley_, 385;
   general character of, 386;
   strictures of, on the _Gentleman’s Magazine_ and _Analytical Review_,
      579;
   vindicates his _Treatise on Saxon Literature_, 580.

 History of politics, foreign and domestic, 119;
   general view of affairs in America and Europe, _ib._;
   congress at Rastadt, 120;
   Mr. D’Arnim’s Answer to the King of Prussia, 121;
   discipline and courage of British seamen, 123;
   reflections, 125;
   domestic affairs, 127;
   origin and progress of the Irish rebellion, _ib._;
   religion, a mere pretence, 128;
   real cause, Jacobin conspiracy, _ib._;
   objects of the rebellion, separation from Britain, 129;
   friends of Government abused by the Jacobin prints, 130;
   an awful crisis, 240;
   congress at Rastadt, _ib._;
   general confederacy recommended, 241;
   consequences of the late King of Prussia’s conduct, _ib._;
     Russia, _ib._;
     Naples, _ib._;
   despotic power of the Directory, 243;
   France boasts of her virtue, _ib._;
   wretched state of French finance, 245;
   indecision of the Emperor, 363;
   spirit and vigour of Russia and Turkey, _ib._;
   inactivity of Prussia, _ib._;
   conduct of the French at Milan, 370;
   anarchy of the Cisalpine Republic, _ib._;
   objects of the revolutions from French politics, and French power,
      _ib._;
   French, try to exclude British manufactures from the Continent, 374;
     in vain, _ib._;
   Nelson’s victory, 483;
     immediate effects of, 484;
     accession of ships to Britain, _ib._;
   Nelson’s victory prevents revival of rebellion in Ireland, 485;
   effects of Nelson’s victory, 605;
   proceedings at Rastadt, _ib._;
   march of the Russian army, 607;
   internal state of France, 608;
   Erskine’s speech at the Whig Club, 609;
   plan of finance, 610;
   resolutions of merchants and bankers, _ib._;
   conduct of opposition, 611;
   political state of Europe, 734;
   French declare war against Naples and Sardinia, 737;
   views of the French government, 738.

 Hoche, General, differs from Turenne, 32;
   life of, dedicated to the eternal Republic, by Rousselin, 754;
   birth and parentage of, 755;
     his father a dog-keeper, himself a groom, _ib._;
     learns philosophy from Rousseau and French novels, _ib._;
   enters the army, 756;
     a corporal, _ib._;
     a commander-in-chief, 758;
     compared to Neptune, _ib._;
   put in prison, 759;
     released, 760;
   conquers La Vendée, 761;
   proposes to invade England, 762;
   seized with a disorder in his bowels, 767;
   death and character of, 768.

 Holcroft’s _Knave or Not_, reviewed, 51;
   literary character of Holcroft, 52;
   novels, _ib._;
     object of them, and his play the same, viz., to overturn our
        constitution and level rank and property, 53;
     execution feeble, _ib._;
   an inaccurate observer and superficial reasoner, 54;
   though trifling, calculated to do much mischief, _ib._;
   admonished of the inadequacy of his powers and knowledge, _ib._
   _See_ Jacobinism, Revolution, &c.

 Holland, Lord, contrasted with Lord Chatham, 576.

 Horsley’s, Dr.—able defence of the Church, 554;
   masterly observation on the political principles of Calvin, 627.
   _See_ Bishop of Rochester.


                                   J.

 Jacobin, a receipt for making one, 617:
   half-educate him, _ib._;
   place him under a dissenting schoolmaster, _ib._;
   let him read Dr. Priestley’s writings, _ib._;
   initiate him in debating societies, _ib._;
   preach in a conventicle, _ib._;
   write for the _Monthly Magazine_ or _Analytical Review_, _ib._;
   read Erskine’s Pamphlet, _ib._
   _See_ Loan of wives.

 Jacobin, faction exists in this country, 1;
   Jacobins employed in the States at war with France, 27;
   Republic, rapacious spirit of, 29;
   capital, 38;
   catch words of, 76;
   authors of revolutions, 422;
   principles of, adopted by the _Annual Register_, 458;
   prints and speeches. _See_ _Courier_, _Chronicle_, _Post_, &c.

 Jacobinism, daily, weekly, monthly and annual vehicles of, 2;
   its malignant and intolerant spirit, _ib._;
   characterised, 12;
   rise, progress, and effects of, 109;
   promoted by certain Reviews, _ib._;
   history of (_see_ Barruel), defined, 223;
   worse than ancient democracy, _ib._;
   worse than former levelling principles, 224;
     than Cromwellianism, _ib._;
   religious scepticism leads to, 225;
   promoted by visionary metaphysics, 226;
   promoted by Voltaire, D’Alembert, Diderot, 359, 712;
   promoted by Mrs. Macaulay, 713;
     by Price and Priestley, _ib._;
   all dissenters not equally favourable to, 716;
   Socinians, Jacobinical, _real_ Presbyterians, loyal, _ib._

 Jones, the Lecturer, praised by the _Analytical_, 346.

 Ireland and Irish, crown and government of, 38;
   rebellion, causes of, 158;
   system of government respecting, 374;
   insurrection, account of, 424;
   barbarities of the rebels, 425;
   state of, 490;
   union with, recommended, 491.

 Irishmen, United, attempts of, to seduce the soldiers, 293;
   connection with the London Corresponding Society, 299.


                                   K.

 King, parent of the constitution, 471;
   proved from records, _ib._;
   from the various parts and instruments of government, 472;
   opinion of Coke on this subject, 473.
   _See_ Constitution and Reeves.

 Kingsbury answers the Bishop of Landaff, 78;
   first a dissenting minister, then a writer on razors, _ib._;
   predicts the Irish traitors will be successful, 82.

 _Knave or Not_, a superficial but dangerous work, 51.
   _See_ Holcroft.


                                   L.

 Lamballe, Madame, her head carried about to display Jacobin humanity,
    44.

 Lashknave, Lawrence—account of the Corresponding Society, 220;
   letter from, 701.

 Lauderdale, Earl of, assertion of, respecting trade, refuted, 336;
   friendship of, with Brissot and his coadjutors, 513.

 Lavater’s _Address to the Directory_, 280;
   a mixture of adulation and abuse, _ib._;
   praises the French Revolution, 282;
   reprobates the invasion of Switzerland, _ib._

 Lecturers, Pulpit, in London, often methodistical and ignorant, 399.

 Letter to the Bishop of Salisbury, 409;
   petulant insolence of, 410;
   elegant extracts from, _ib._;
   refined phraseology, 411;
   abuse of, 412;
   scandalous insinuation of, against an eminent prelate, 413.

 Letter to _The Anti-Jacobin Review_ on modern Catilines, and the
    evidence at Maidstone, 593;
   to Mr. Fox, reviewed, 530 (_see_ Fox);
   to the Bishop of Rochester from Mr. Rhys, reviewed, 534;
   position that war is, in all cases, unchristian disproved, _ib._;
   no precepts against it delivered by our Saviour, 533.

 Liberality, real, an excellent quality, 440;
   term often misapplied by Jacobins, _ib._

 Licentiousness of the press, 1.

 Lloyd’s Edmund Oliver, declamatory abuse of the military profession,
    177;
   censures the war with the regicides, 178;
   proposes to level rank and property, 179;
   doctrines praised. _See_ Critical and Analytical.

 Loan of wives, a practice among Jacobins. _See_ Fraunces.

 Louis XVI., Cléry’s journal of confinement and sufferings of, 42;
   persecution of, 43;
   brutal treatment of, 45;
   audacious insolence to, 46;
   abused by newspapers, 47;
   exemplary conduct of, 48;
   monstrous trial of, 49;
   execution of, 50.

 _Lovers’ Vows_ reviewed, 479;
   object, tendency, and character, 480.


                                   M.

 Mallet du Pan, _British Mercury_ of, reviewed, 403;
   object of the work, _ib._;
   throws light on French principles, _ib._;
   able and useful advice in the preface, 404;
   gratitude to the British nation, 405;
   analysis and extracts, 406;
   account of Swiss cantons, 407;
   description of a Swiss wedding, 408;
   account of affairs in Italy, 493;
   account of the destruction of Helvetic liberty, 501;
   character of the French Revolutionists, 502;
   effects on other nations, 503;
   state of resources of Switzerland, 504;
   character of Weiss the French partisan, 506;
   conduct of, 507;
   pathetic description of the last efforts of Berne, 509;
   reflections, 511;
   character of Buonaparte, 513;
   _British Mercury_ recommended to all crowned heads, _ib._;
   general character of the work, 515.

 _Maria, or the Wrongs of Woman_, reviewed, 91;
   fable, object, and principles of, 92;
   asserts that her friend Jemima’s understanding was sharpened and
      invigorated by her occupations as a thief and a prostitute, _ib._;
   _particular_ description of Maria and her lover, 93;
   restraints on adultery, according to Maria, a flagrant wrong to
      women, _ib._
   _See_ Godwin and Wollstonecraft.

 Martinez’ persecution of Peter Porcupine, 9;
   proceedings of, 10.

 Menard, infamous pretext of, for invading Switzerland, 511.

 Meyers, De, _Fragments on Paris_, 268;
   criterion of the state of a nation, _ib._;
   dress and amusements at Paris, 269;
   extracts from, 270;
   strictures on, 271;
   state of the arts and sciences at Paris, 272;
   his account recommended to votaries of innovation, 273;
   character of his work, 279.

 Mifflin, Governor, republican morality of, 14;
   celebrates the dethronement of Louis XVI., _ib._;
   praises the Botany Bay citizens, _ib._

 Ministry, proposed plan of, by Mr. Fox, 20.

 Moira, Earl of, patronises the _Courier_, 204;
   his letter to Colonel Mahon discussed, 206;
     censured, 207;
   unfounded account of Ireland, 294;
   speech in the Irish Parliament, considered, discussed, and censured,
      461.

 Monboddo’s _Ancient Metaphysics_, review of, reviewed, 565.
   _See_ _Monthly_ and _Critical Reviews_.

 Monroe’s _View of the Conduct of the Executive_, considered, 824;
   Monroe, of the French faction in America, 825;
   a promoter of Jacobin doctrines, 826.

 _Monthly Magazine_ detected, 198;
   published by a French citizen, _ib._;
   patronised by the Directory, 199;
   dialogue from, 327;
   praises book clubs, 476 (_see_ R. Phillips and Jacobin Prints);
   detection of, 570;
   John Thelwall a contributor to, _ib._;
   sneers at loyalty, 572;
   abuses Lord Auckland, _ib._;
   reviles Lord Carlisle, 573;
   inveighs against Mallet du Pan, _ib._;
   reprobates Peter Porcupine, _ib._;
   slanders Mr. Harper, _ib._;
   all because enemies to Jacobinism, _ib._

 _Monthly Review_, to be reviewed by _The Anti-Jacobin_, 3;
   dangerous tendency of, 56;
   character and operations of, 58;
   unfriendly to the constitution as actually constituted, 60;
   review of, 68;
   arts of, to prevent the circulation of constitutional works, 71;
   reviewed, 171;
   false statement by, 172;
   curious observation of, _ib._;
   examined, 173;
   false and absurd remark of, on Switzerland, 174;
   ignorance of, 175;
   praises the _Spirit_ of the Public Journals, 331;
   asserts Oldfield’s _Abuse of Parliament_ to be demonstration, 453;
   praises his support of universal suffrage, 456;
   praises Lord Moira for _apologising_ for our officers (_see_ Spirit
      of Public Journals and Jacobin Prints);
   quotes the most exceptionable passages of Monboddo’s _Metaphysics_,
      567;
   ridicules David and Solomon because kings and Scripture characters,
      569.

 Moore, Dr., a friend of Brissot, 513.

 _Morning Chronicle_ resembles the _Monthly Review_, 58;
   dialogue from, 326;
   account of Tierney’s speech, 377;
   extracts from, 378;
   continues its virulence, 379;
   invectives against the saviours of Ireland, 497;
   idea of rebellion, 498.
   _See_ Spirit of Public Journals and Jacobin Prints.

 _Morning Post_, invectives of, against ministers, 497.
   _See_ Jacobin Prints and Spirit of Public Journals.

 Murphy, venerable literary character of, 191.
   _See_ Arminius.


                                   N.

 Naples, loyalty and patriotism of, 493.
   _See_ History.

 Nelson, splendid victory of, 483;
   momentous consequences from, 484.
   _See_ History.

 Noble’s _Lives of English Regicides_, 445;
   extracts from, 446;
   matter excellent, composition reprehensible, 448.

 Norfolk, Duke of, evidence at Maidstone, 289;
   assertions respecting the British constitution refuted, 470;
   doctrine of the sovereignty of the people erroneous, 473.


                                   P.

 Paine, Thomas, letter of, to the people of France, 21;
   examined, 22;
   praises the French Revolution, 23;
   supposes extraordinary virtues in the number _five_, 24;
   doctrines of, propagated by the Corresponding Society, 111;
   praises the French Directory, 141;
   reasons like the Analytical Reviewers, _ib._;
   a flatterer of tyrants, 142;
   his _Rights of Man_ lead to ruin, 143;
   a member of tyrannical clubs, 145.

 Paris, state of, 272;
   a scene of theft and robbery, 273;
   people of, disaffected to the government, 275;
   corrupted morals of, 277;
   former happiness of, _ib._

 Parliament, Irish, report of Committee of, contains an historical
    sketch of Irish rebellion, 292;
   of means of diffusion, _ib._;
   treasonable newspapers, _ib._;
   general result of, 295.

 Parry threatens to prosecute _The Anti-Jacobin_ for attacking the
    _Courier_, 376;
   challenged to do so, _ib._

 Pennsylvania, court of, 11;
   famous for bastards and cuckoldom, 15;
   civic feast in Philadelphia, _ib._

 _Perry_, a brisk, bouncing liquor, wants strength, 248.

 Phillips, R., editor of the _Monthly Magazine_, 200;
   history of, _ib._;
   conduct at Leicester, _ib._;
   confined two years for sedition, _ib._;
   establishes the _Monthly Magazine_, _ib._;
   other labours of, in the cause, 201;
   praised by the Analytical, _ib._;
   the friend of Holcroft, Wakefield, and Godwin, _ib._;
   purveyor-general to Jacobins, 325;
   undertakes to TEACH our King, who, of his subjects, deserve reward,
      635;
   supposed to be sprung from Paul Phillips, clerk of the parish, and
      president of _an ale-house club for managing the nation_ in the
      reign of Queen Anne, _ib._

 Pitt, the Right Hon. William, contrasted with Mr. Fox, 575;
   education and juvenile studies, 576;
   honourable election of, _ib._;
   addicted neither to gaming nor debauchery, 577;
   political principles and conduct of, _ib._;
   risks popularity for the good of his country, 578;
   measures and success of, 579;
   farther contrasted with Mr. Fox, 702.

 Poetry, explanation of the print, 115;
   Progress of Liberty, 116;
   Congratulatory Ode, 117;
   United Irishmen, 118;
   Wanderings of Iapis, 228;
   Address to the Premier Peer in imitation of Horace, 233;
   Jacobin Council, 235;
   sent with a Shilling, 236;
   Ages of Reason, _ib._;
   Epistle from Miss Seward to Mr. Lister, 237;
   Anarchists, an Ode, 365;
   Honey Moon of Fox and Tooke in Imitation of Horace and Lydia, 597;
   Lines to Lady Nelson, _ib._;
   song on Admiral Nelson’s Victory, 599.

 Polybius, admirable, general principles of government, thinks a mixed
    constitution the best, 521.
   _See_ Gillies.

 Porcupine, Peter, efforts of, in America, 7;
   Republican Judge, _ib._;
   attempts of Spanish Ambassador against, 9;
   examines the _justice_ of the REPUBLICAN JUDGE, 11;
   characterizes republican justice, 12;
   Jacobinism, _ib._;
   Bone to Gnaw for the Democrats, 342;
   abused by the _Analytical Review_, _ib._;
   will of, 725;
   _Diplomatic Blunderbuss_ of, _ib._;
   excellent tendency and able execution, 836;
   _Political Censor_ of, for January, 1797, 836;
     ditto, for March, 1797, 839;
   eloquence and ability of both, _ib._

 Porcupiniana, 479;
   strictures on the Whig Club, _ib._;
   on Volney the Atheist, 592;
   on Priestley, _ib._

 Portland, Duke of, junction with Mr. Pitt justified, 206;
   obligations of the country to him and friends, 474.

 Price. _See_ Jacobinism and Dissenters.

 Priestley, Dr., reduced state of, 16;
   declares Republican governments to be most arbitrary, _ib._;
   Original Letters to, reviewed, 146;
   authority of, referred to, to sanction the abuse of the Church, 476;
   misrepresentations of, 555;
   the firebrand philosopher, 592;
   declared intention to blow up the Church, 626.

 Prints, Jacobin, concur in asserting that the facts, reported by the
    Secret Committee, were before known to them, 247;
   accuse the Navy Board of inactivity, 377;
   misrepresentations and falsehoods of, noted, 379;
     ditto, 496.

 Prospectus of the _Anti-Jacobin Review_, 1;
   of the old _Englishman_, 601.

 Prostitution. _See_ Mary Wollstonecraft.


                                   Q.

 Quakers, contributed nothing _voluntarily_ to the State, 136;
   pretence of conscience unfounded, 137;
   loyalty of, exposed, 356;
   origin and principles of the sect, 357;
   farther exposed, 709;
   ten commandments of, 711.


                                   R.

 Reform, a veil for the most dangerous conspiracies, 139.

 Reformers, in unison of counsels with France, 66;
   coincidence traced, _ib._

 Regicides, English, Lives of (_see_ Noble);
   French have sworn hatred to the Monarchy, even of the Supreme Being,
      446.

 Reviews, democratical, the mere instruments of faction, 2.

 Revolution, French, three classes of friends of, 741;
   proposes to establish universal Pyrrhonism, 743;
   germs, principles, and causes of, 746;
   expressions built upon, 747.

 Rivers’s _History and Conduct of the Dissenters_, reviewed, 626;
   character of John Knox, 627;
   dissenters inimical to our establishment, _ib._;
   character of Price, 629.

 Robespierre praised by republicans and levellers, 22.

 Robinson’s (Mrs.) _Walsingham_, reviewed, 160;
   literary character of, 161;
   political principles, _ib._;
   misrepresents the manners of the great, and state of the poor, 162;
   admonished to read Blair’s _Lectures_, 163;
   not to go beyond her depth, 164.

 Robinson’s, Anthony, _View of the English Wars_, 613;
   life and character of the author, 614;
   apprenticed to a dissenting linen-draper, _ib._;
   a sectarian preacher, 615;
   an orator in debating societies, _ib._;
   his work a mere vehicle of Jacobinism, 617.

 Rousseau, character of, 360;
   doctrine of, 748;
   political, 749.


                                   S.

 Saint Lambert, principles of morality, 796;
   new catechism, 797.

 Sallust, remarks of, on false moderation towards conspirators, 442.

 Scriptures defended against Socinians and Deists, 439;
   attacks on, give them new force, _ib._;
   revilers of (_see_ Geddes).

 Secession. _See_ Fox.

 Seditious meetings, Bill for restraining, praised, 66.

 _Shears, Report of Trial of_, reviewed, 540.

 Sheridan’s testimony at Maidstone, 286.

 Smith’s (Charlotte) _Young Philosopher_ reviewed, 187;
   she has talents for novel-writing, _ib._;
   defects, egotism, and repetition of the same story, _ib._;
   politics beyond her reach, 188;
   abuse of kings, _ib._;
   blunder about Roman demagogues, _ib._;
   frivolous and false remarks, 189;
   praised by the _Analytical_, 190.

 Social order defended against the principles of the French revolution,
    by Abbé de Voisin, 772;
   ability of the work, 773;
   principles of Government, 775;
   confutation of the _Rights of Man_ doctrines, 776;
   confutation of the _Abbé Sièyes_, 779.

 Society, Corresponding, object of, 111 (_see_ Thomas Paine);
   account of. _See_ Lawrence Lashknave.

 Societies, Debating. _See_ Police Magistrates.

 Spirit of the public journals, 324;
   contains the quintessence of Jacobinism, _ib._;
   extracts from the most Jacobinical publications, 325;
   address of, to the soldiers, 328.
   _See_ _Monthly_, _Critical_, and _Analytical Reviews_; _Courier_,
      _Post_, _Chronicle_, _Monthly Magazine_, and R. Phillips.

 Stiguer, the Swiss patriot, high character of, 503.

 Stonehouse’s Letters to Priestley, 146;
   predict the downfal of every government, 148;
   exhibit every feature of the Jacobin character, _ib._;
   praise the new _Annual Register_, 150.

 Switzerland and Swiss. _See_ Mallet du Pan and History.


                                   T.

 Talleyrand, Perigord, a friend of Opposition Members, 151.

 Taxation, plan of, on income justified, 487.

 Thanet, Earl of, evidence of, at Maidstone, 290.

 Theatre, 114–248–479.
   See _Cambro Britons_, _Lovers’ Vows_, &c.

 Thomas’s _Consequences of an English Invasion_, reviewed, 459;
   sermon on public worship, 672.

 Toasts, seditious, 69;
   _standing_ of the Corresponding Society and Whig Club, 80.
   _See_ Fox and the Duke of Norfolk.

 Tooke, John Horne—_Diversions of Purley_ considered, 385;
   political anecdotes of, _ib._;
   literary merit ascertained, 386 (_see_ Henshall);
   _Diversions of Purley_, reviewed, 655;
   Portraits by (_see_ Pitt and Fox).

 Turenne, different from Hoche, 32.


                                   U.

 _Underwald, Fall of_, reviewed, 663;
   tyranny of the Directory, 664;
   perfidy of, 665.


                                   V.

 Vaurien, review of, reviewed, 685;
   merit as a satirical performance, _ib._;
   exhibits the consequences of Godwin’s Political Justice, 686;
   describes the various modes of seizing on property, 687.

 Voltaire, observations of, concerning government, 9;
   character, 360;
   philosophy, religion, and morality of, 751;
   life of, by Verney, 816.

 Vultures, modern, 812.


                                   W.

 Wakefield, admonition to, 36;
   Reply to the Bishop of Landaff, 72;
   Letter to the Attorney General, 151;
   scurrilous abuse of Mr. Pitt, 152;
   asserts all human governments to be incorrigibly profligate, 154;
   pretends to control legislature, magistracy, and administration, 155;
   character and motives of, examined, 156;
   letter of, to Mr. Wilberforce, 551.

 Wansey, Letter of, to the Bishop of Salisbury, answered, 542;
   deplorable malady of, 544.

 War, causes of, the French doctrines and revolution, 27.

 Whig Club tends to the subversion of the Constitution, 60 (_see_ Fox
    and the Duke of Norfolk);
   proceedings of, versified, 303;
   Erskine’s speech at, 609.
   _See_ Fox, Jacobinism, and Corresponding Society.

 Whitbread, evidence of, at Maidstone, 290.

 Williams, Helen Maria, Jacobinical principles of, 146;
   patronizes the New Annual Register, 158.

 Wollstonecraft, Godwin, Mary, Memoirs of, 94;
   keeps her father in awe, _ib._;
   lively fancy without knowledge and habits of reasoning, _ib._;
   _so qualified_ becomes one of the _Analytical_ Reviewers, _ib._;
   _undertakes_ to answer Burke, 95;
   answer such as might have been expected, _ib._;
   her constitution testified by her husband to have been _amorous_,
      _ib._;
   Rights of Woman characterised, _ib._;
   her passions inflamed by celibacy, 96;
   falls in love with a married man, _ib._;
   at the breaking out of the war betakes herself to our enemies, _ib._;
   intimate with the French leaders under Robespierre, 97;
   with Thomas Paine, _ib._;
   taken by Imlay into keeping, _ib._;
   her husband declares that her soul had panted for that connection,
      _ib._;
   her doctrines, illustrated by her example, _not new_, _ib._;
   _as old as prostitution_, _ib._;
   proposes to elude her creditors, _ib._;
   deserted by her keeper, _ib._;
   derives particular gratification from Hamilton Rowan, _ib._;
   pursues her keeper to England, _ib._;
   her great aversion to this country, _ib._;
   being without a lover attempts to drown herself, 98;
   appointed kept mistress to the philosopher Godwin, _ib._;
   married to the philosopher, _ib._;
   does not believe in future punishments, 99;
   from the time she became enlightened discontinued public worship,
      _ib._;
   her life illustrates Jacobin morality and religion, _ib._;
   high praises of her life, doctrines, and conduct by the _Analytical_
      Reviewers, 101;
   prophetic apostrophe to her by them, 402.
   _See_ Maria, Godwin, Prostitution, and _Analytical Review_.


                                THE END.

-----

Footnote 1:

  On the subject of the respective authorship of the contributions to
  _The Anti-Jacobin_, see _The Works of John Hookham Frere, in verse and
  prose, with Prefatory Memoir. Edited by his Nephews, H. and Sir Bartle
  Frere_, and _The Edinburgh Review_ for April, 1872, p. 476.

Footnote 2:

  It will be remembered that these eminent persons were chosen by Lord
  Malmesbury to accompany him on his mission to Lille and were
  associated with him in the abortive negotiations for peace.

Footnote 3:

  It is surprising that the satirist’s attention was not attracted to
  the scene in _Stella_, in which one of the heroines describes the
  rapid growth of her passion to its object: “I know not if you observed
  that you had enchained my interest from the first moment of our first
  meeting. I at least soon became aware that your eyes sought mine. Ah,
  Fernando, then my uncle brought the music, you took your violin, and,
  as you played, my eyes rested upon you free from care. I studied every
  feature of your face; and, during an unexpected pause, you fixed your
  eyes upon—upon me! They met mine! How I blushed, how I looked away!
  You observed it, Fernando; for from that moment I felt that you looked
  oftener over your music-book, often played out of tune, to the
  disturbance of my uncle. Every false note, Fernando, went to my heart.
  It was the sweetest confusion I ever felt in my life.”

Footnote 4:

  The whole of this _jeu d’esprit_ has been claimed for FRERE, but on
  unsatisfactory evidence. It is much more in CANNING’S way as a student
  of oratory, which FRERE was not.

Footnote 5:

  [See pages 32, 34.—ED.]

Footnote 6:

  [A very eminent Mathematician and Physicist, and the inventor of
  descriptive geometry; born in 1746. In 1792 he was appointed Minister
  of Marine; and afterwards took an active part in the equipment of the
  Army. After founding the _École Polytechnique_, he was sent into Italy
  to receive the pictures and statues seized by Buonaparte. He then
  joined the expedition to Egypt, and rendered great service both in the
  war operations and in the labours of the _Egyptian Institute_, the
  results of which were published by command of Napoleon in that
  magnificent and extensive work the _Description de l’Égypte_. He died
  in 1818.—ED.]

Footnote 7:

  [Parodied from Payne Knight’s poem, “_The Progress of Civil Society_,”
  which is admirably ridiculed in No. XV. _post_.—ED.]

Footnote 8:

  [By SOUTHEY.—ED.]

Footnote 9:

  [The original poem, by Southey, is here subjoined:—

                                THE WIDOW.

                                SAPPHICS.

          Cold was the night wind; drifting fast the snows fell;
          Wide were the downs, and shelterless and naked;
          When a poor wand’rer struggled on her journey,
                            Weary and way-sore.

          Drear were the downs, more dreary her reflections;
          Cold was the night wind, colder was her bosom:
          She had no home, the world was all before her,
                            She had no shelter.

          Fast o’er the heath a chariot rattled by her:
          “Pity me!” feebly cried the poor night wanderer.
          “Pity me, strangers! lest with cold and hunger
                            Here I should perish.

          “Once I had friends—but they have all forsook me!
          Once I had parents—they are now in heaven!
          I had a home once—I had once a husband—
                            Pity me, strangers!

          “I had a home once—I had once a husband—
          I am a widow, poor and broken-hearted!”
          Loud blew the wind, unheard was her complaining;
                            On drove the chariot.

          Then on the snow she laid her down to rest her;
          She heard a horseman: “Pity me!” she groaned out.
          Loud was the wind, unheard was her complaining;
                            On went the horseman.

          Worn out with anguish, toil, and cold and hunger,
          Down sunk the wanderer; sleep had seized her senses:
          There did the traveller find her in the morning—
                            God had released her.]

  1796.

Footnote 10:

  [GEORGE TIERNEY, M.P. for Southwark, who in early times was among the
  more forward of the Reformers. “He was,” says Lord Brougham, “an
  assiduous member of the _Society of Friends of the People_, and drew
  up the much and justly celebrated Petition in which that useful body
  laid before the House of Commons all the more striking particulars of
  its defective title to the office of representing the people, which
  that House then, as now, but with far less reason, assumed.”
  Notwithstanding the above severe verses, Tierney served under Canning
  as Master of the Mint, during the latter’s short administration in
  1827.—ED.]

Footnote 11:

  [In Feb., 1797, about 1400 Frenchmen landed at Pembroke, but
  surrendered without resistance to the country people, whom Lord CAWDOR
  (who had been elevated to the Peerage in the preceding year) had armed
  with scythes and pitchforks. He was succeeded by his elder son, who
  was created Earl Cawdor in 1827, and died 1860.—ED.]

Footnote 12:

  [This account will be found on p. 32, _et seq._—ED.]

Footnote 13:

  See proclamation of the Directory.

Footnote 14:

  The “_too long calumniated_ author of the _Rights of Man_”.—See a Sir
  Something Burdett’s speech at the Shakspeare, as referred to in the
  _Courier_ of Nov. 30.

Footnote 15:

  The Guillotine at Arras was, as is well known to every Jacobin,
  painted “_Couleur de Rose_”.

Footnote 16:

  See _Weekly Examiner_, No. 11. Extract from the _Courier_.

Footnote 17:

  _La petite Fenétre_, and _la Razoire Nationale_, fondling expressions
  applied to the Guillotine by the Jacobins in France, and their pupils
  here.

Footnote 18:

  [The original poem is here subjoined:—

                           THE SOLDIER’S WIFE.

                                DACTYLICS.

         Weary way-wanderer, languid and sick at heart,
         Travelling painfully over the rugged road;
         Wild-visaged wanderer! Ah! for thy heavy chance.

         Sorely thy little ones drag by thee barefooted,
         Cold is the baby that hangs at thy bending back—
         Meagre and livid, and screaming its wretchedness.

         Woe-begone mother, half anger, half agony,
         As over thy shoulder thou lookest to hush the babe,
         Bleakly the blinding snow beats in thy haggard face.

         Thy husband will never return from the war again;
         Cold is thy hopeless heart, even as charity—
         Cold are thy famished babes—God help thee, widowed one!]

  1795.

Footnote 19:

  [“Walked to the Old Bailey to see DAVID ISAAC EATON in the pillory.
  The mob was decidedly friendly to him. His having published PAINE’S
  _Age of Reason_ was not an intelligible offence to them.”—_Crabb
  Robinson’s Diary_, i. 386.

  The Proclamation against _Seditious Writings_, however, was supported
  by some influential Whigs. “PITT had previously sent copies of it to
  several members of the Opposition in both Houses, requesting their
  advice,” says Lord Malmesbury. Whether PITT desired it or not, no
  measure could have been more effectual for dividing the Whig
  party.—ED.]

Footnote 20:

  [See p. 38.—ED.]

Footnote 21:

  My worthy friend the bellman had promised to supply an additional
  stanza; but the business of assisting the lamplighter,
  chimney-sweeper, &c., with complimentary verses for their worthy
  masters and mistresses, pressing on him at this season, he was obliged
  to decline it. [A quiz at the third stanza, which was contributed by
  COLERIDGE.—ED.]

Footnote 22:

  [Thomas Dyche was a clergyman, and kept a school at Stratford-le-Bow.
  He was the author of an English dictionary, a spelling-book, a Latin
  vocabulary, &c. He died about 1750. Thomas Dilworth, whose educational
  works were long popular, was for some time his assistant, and then set
  up a school for himself at Wapping. He died in 1781.—ED.]

Footnote 23:

  [_and_ should have been omitted.—ED.]

Footnote 24:

  [The Latin Verses, much admired at the time, were written by the
  Marquis WELLESLEY at Walmer Castle, in 1797, at the desire of PITT,
  and were published after the author’s departure for India, in the
  _Anti-Jacobin_. The beautiful translation of them was by Lord MORPETH,
  afterwards sixth Earl of CARLISLE, whose mother was the daughter of
  GRANVILLE LEVESON GOWER, first Marquis of STAFFORD. He died in 1848.]

Footnote 25:

  The original poem as translated, or rather paraphrased, by Prof. J. D.
  Carlyle, is here subjoined:—

                               THE CHOICE.

               Sabla! thou saw’st th’ exulting foe
                 In fancied triumphs crown’d:
               Thou heard’st their frantic females throw
                 These galling taunts around:

               “Make now YOUR CHOICE—the terms we give,
                 Desponding victims, hear!
               These fetters on your _hands_ receive,
                 Or in your _hearts_ the spear.”

               “And is the conflict o’er,” we cried,
                 And lie we at your feet,
               “And dare you vauntingly decide
                 The fortune we must meet?

               “A brighter day we soon shall see,
                 Tho’ now the prospect lowers,
               And Conquest, Peace, and Liberty
                 Shall gild our future hours.”

               The foe advanc’d—in firm array
                 We rush’d o’er SABLA’S sands,
               And the red sabre mark’d our way
                 Amidst their yielding bands.

               Then as they writh’d in death’s cold grasp,
                 We cried, “OUR CHOICE is made!
               These _hands_ the sabre’s hilt shall clasp,
                 Your _hearts_ shall have the blade!”

  As Carlyle’s version is although a spirited not a faithful one, the
  Editor is induced to present a literal translation, from _Translations
  of Ancient Arabian Poetry, by C. J. Lyall_, 1885, 8vo., p. 10. The
  contest was not a battle but one of the frequent skirmishes between
  neighbouring clans. _Sabla_ is Carlyle’s rendering of _Sahbal a Wady_,
  in Arabia, overlooked by twin peaks.

Footnote 26:

  [W. H. Ireland, the Shakespeare forger.—ED.]

Footnote 27:

  [The above ballad refers to an attempt by FRANCIS, fifth DUKE OF
  BEDFORD, to escape the payment of the Assessed Taxes upon twenty-five
  of his servants, on the plea that as the Helpers did not wear a
  Livery, and were engaged by the week, they were not liable to the
  duty. This defence was, however, unsuccessful.—ED.]

Footnote 28:

  _Twaie coneynge Clerks._—_Coneynge_ is the participle of the verb to
  _ken_ or _know_. It by no means imports what we now denominate a
  _knowing one_: on the contrary, _twaie coneynge clerks_ means _two
  intelligent and disinterested clergymen_.

Footnote 29:

  _Seely_ is evidently the original of the modern word _silly_. A _seely
  wight_, however, by no means imports what is now called a _silly
  fellow_, but means a man of simplicity of character, devoid of all
  _vanity_, and of any strange, ill-conducted ambition, which, if
  successful, would immediately be fatal to the man who indulged it.

Footnote 30:

  _Good advisament_ means—_cool consideration_.

Footnote 31:

  [FRANCIS, fifth DUKE OF BEDFORD, died after a severe surgical
  operation, March 2, 1802, at the early age of thirty-six. “The Duke of
  Bedford’s energetic and capacious mind,” says Lord Ossory, “his
  enlarged way of thinking, and elevated sentiments, together with the
  habits and pursuits of his life, peculiarly qualified him for his high
  station and princely fortune. He was superior to bad education and
  disadvantages for forming his character, and turned out certainly a
  first-rate man, though not free from imperfections. His uprightness
  and truth were unequalled; his magnanimity, fortitude and
  consideration, in his last moments, taken so unprepared as he was,
  were astonishing.”

  On the 16th March, C. J. Fox, in moving for a new writ for the borough
  of Tavistock, vacated by Lord John Russell, who had succeeded to the
  titles and estates of his deceased brother, took occasion to pronounce
  a beautiful and glowing eulogium on his departed friend and firm
  supporter.—ED.]

Footnote 32:

  [The _Anti-Jacobin_ (in No. 8) thus speaks of the threatened invasion
  of this country, for which “they have publicly formed, and (as they
  term it) _organized_ their ARMY OF ENGLAND. Its Advanced Guard is to
  be formed from a chosen Corps of Banditti, the most distinguished for
  Massacre and Plunder. It is to be preceded, as it naturally ought, by
  _the Genius of French Revolutionary Liberty_, and it will be
  _welcomed_, as they tell us, ‘on the _ensanguined_ shores of Britain,
  by the generous friends of Parliamentary Reform’. In the interval,
  however, till these golden dreams are realized, it is necessary that
  this ‘_Army of England_,’ while it yet remains in France, should be
  fed, paid, and clothed. For this purpose a new and separate fund is
  provided (in the same spirit with the rest of their measures), and is
  to be termed ‘THE LOAN OF ENGLAND,’ to be raised by anticipation on
  the security and mortgage of all the Lands and Property of this
  Country. This _gasconade_, which sounds too extravagant for reality,
  is nevertheless seriously announced by a message from the Executive
  Directory; and we are told that the Merchants of Paris are eagerly
  offering to advance, on such a security, the money which is to defray
  the expenses of the Expedition against this country.”—ED.]

Footnote 33:

  [The above verses refer to the memorable events of the 18th Fructidor,
  Sept. 4, 1797 (the model of Prince Louis Napoléon’s _coup d’état_,
  Dec. 2, 1851), when Rewbell, Barras, and Laréveillère-Lepaux, on the
  plea that the Republic was in danger, got rid of their
  fellow-directors, Carnot (grandfather to the present President of the
  French Republic) and Barthélemy, who were replaced by Merlin and
  François de Neufchateau, dispersed by military force the members of
  the Five Hundred and the Ancients, fifty-three of whom were condemned
  to transportation—banished the editors, &c., of forty-two
  newspapers—annulled the elections of forty-eight departments—and
  effected other arbitrary measures without opposition. The springs of
  the movement were throughout directed by Buonaparte, seconded by Hoche
  and Augereau. This event was the true era of the commencement of
  military despotism in France. But THIERS considers “the Directory by
  these means prevented civil war, and substituted an arbitrary but
  necessary act of power, carried out with energy, but with all the
  mildness and moderation that revolutionary times would allow”.—ED.]

Footnote 34:

  [Alluding to the National Thanksgiving for the three great naval
  victories achieved by Lords Howe, St. Vincent, and Duncan. On this
  occasion the King and Queen, with their family, the Houses of Lords
  and Commons, &c., went in procession to St. Paul’s, where Divine
  Service was performed. The Government Papers attributed to the
  Opposition Press a desire to throw discredit on this proceeding. “The
  consequence of the Procession to St. Paul’s” (says the _Morning Post_,
  of Dec. 25) “was, that _one_ man returned thanks to the Almighty, and
  _one_ woman was _kicked_ TO DEATH.”—ED.]

Footnote 35:

  [Mary Frampton, in her journal (Dec. 20, 1797), gives a lively account
  of the King’s attendance at St. Paul’s for Duncan’s Victory on the
  11th Oct. “The King,” she says, “stopped under the dome, and conversed
  for some time with Lord Duncan and the sailors; and, to the great
  scandal of good church-goers, did not hold his tongue for any
  considerable time together during the service.... Pitt was attacked at
  Temple Bar by three ruffians, who rushed from the mob and seized upon
  the door of his carriage undoubtedly with an intent to drag him out,
  but three of the Light Horse Volunteers rode up, and backing their
  horses against them, sent them head over heels to the place from
  whence they came, rather faster than they ventured out.” Page 99.—ED.]

Footnote 36:

  [PRINCE TALLEYRAND.—ED.]

Footnote 37:

  GENERAL DANICAN, in his Memoirs, tells us, that while he was in
  command, a felon, who had assumed the name of Brutus, chief of a
  revolutionary tribunal at Rennes, said to his colleagues, on Good
  Friday, “Brothers, we must put to death this day, at the same hour the
  counter-revolutionist Christ died, that young devotee who was lately
  arrested”: and this young lady was guillotined accordingly, and her
  corpse treated with _every possible species of indecent insult_, to
  the infinite amusement of a vast multitude of spectators.

Footnote 38:

  The reader will find in the works of PETER PORCUPINE [W. COBBETT] (a
  spirited and instructive writer) an ample and satisfactory commentary
  on this and the following stanza. The French themselves inform us,
  that by the several modes of destruction here alluded to, upwards of
  30,000 persons were butchered at Lyons, and this once magnificent city
  almost levelled to the ground, by the command of a wretched actor
  (COLLOT D’HERBOIS), whom they had formerly hissed from the stage. From
  the same authorities we learn, that at Nantz 27,000 persons, of both
  sexes, were murdered; chiefly by drowning them in plugged boats. The
  waters of the Loire became putrid, and were forbidden to be drunk, by
  the savages who conducted the massacre:—that at Paris 150,000, and in
  La Vendée 300,000 persons were destroyed.—Upon the whole, the French
  themselves acknowledge, that TWO MILLIONS of human beings (exclusive
  of the military) have been sacrificed to the principles of EQUALITY
  and the RIGHTS OF MAN: 250,000 of these are stated to be WOMEN, and
  30,000 CHILDREN. In this last number, however, they do not include the
  unborn; nor those who started from the bodies of their agonizing
  parents, and were stuck upon the bayonets of those very men who are
  now to compose the “ARMY OF ENGLAND,” amidst the most savage
  acclamations.

  [At the beginning of the revolution, some companies of children,
  called _Bonsbons_, were dressed and drilled as National Guards, as a
  compliment to the Dauphin, who to please the Parisians sometimes
  donned that uniform. Similar companies were afterwards formed in
  Brittany, and employed to shoot those poor wretches whom the two
  guillotines could not dispatch in sufficient numbers!—_Biog. Univ._,
  art. _St. André_.—ED.]

Footnote 39:

  At Lyons, JABOGUES, the _second_ murderer (the Actor being the
  _first_), in his speech to the Democratic Society, used these
  words—“Down with the edifices raised for the profit or the pleasure of
  the rich; down with them ALL. COMMERCE and ARTS are useless to a
  warlike people, and are the destruction of that SUBLIME EQUALITY which
  France is determined to spread over the globe.” Such are the
  consequences of RADICAL REFORM! Let any merchant, farmer, or landlord;
  let any husband or father consider this, and then say, “_Shall we or
  shall we not contribute a moderate sum_, IN PROPORTION TO OUR ANNUAL
  EXPENDITURE, _for the purpose of preserving ourselves from the fate of
  Lyons, La Vendée, and Nantz?_”

                                                                STYPTIC.

Footnote 40:

  [Probably written by the Rt. Hon. John Courtnay.]

Footnote 41:

  Line 10.—[One of the distinguishing features of the “ANTI-JACOBIN”
  was their articles devoted to an exposure of the “Lies,
  Misrepresentations, and Mistakes” of the Opposition Press.—ED.]

Footnote 42:

  Line 23.—[George Hammond, at this time Canning’s colleague as
  Under-Secretary of State; the latter being succeeded by John Hookham
  Frere.—ED.]

Footnote 43:

  Line 30.—[Lord Morpeth, son of the (fifth) Earl of Carlisle who was
  satirized by Byron in “English Bards and Scotch Reviewers”.—ED.]

Footnote 44:

  Line 32.—[George Granville Leveson Gower, eldest son of the first
  Marquis of Stafford, born in 1758, became second Marquis in 1803, and
  created Duke of Sutherland in 1833. He was one of Canning’s intimate
  college companions.—ED.]

Footnote 45:

  Line 41.—[James Harris, first Earl of Malmesbury, one of the most
  distinguished of English diplomatists. His “Diaries and
  Correspondence,” published by his grandson, the third Earl, throw much
  light on the transactions of the eventful period to which they
  refer.—ED.]

Footnote 46:

  Line 42.—[George Ellis, the accomplished editor of the “Specimens of
  the Early English Poets, and of Early English Metrical Romances,” &c.
  In early life he contributed to the _Rolliad_, being the author of
  Nos. 1 and 2, in Part I., and Nos. 1 and 2, in Part II. Of the
  _Political Eclogues_ he wrote the one entitled “Charles Jenkinson”. In
  the _Probationary Odes_, he wrote No. II. “Ode on the New Year, by
  Lord Mulgrave,” and No. XX. “Irregular Ode for the King’s Birth Day,
  by Sir G. Howard”. Afterwards, however, he became much attached to
  Pitt, and acted as Secretary to Lord Malmesbury during his
  unsuccessful negotiations with the French for peace, at Lisle, 1797.
  Horace Walpole thus alludes to him, in a letter of 24th June, 1783:
  “English people are in fashion at Versailles. A Mr. Ellis, who wrote
  some pretty verses at Bath two or three years ago, is a favourite
  there.” Sir Walter Scott addressed to him Canto V. of “Marmion”. He
  died in 1815, aged 70.—ED.]

Footnote 47:

  Line 71.—[The Rt. Hon. Henry Dundas (afterwards created Viscount
  Melville), in the Commons, and Lord Grenville in the Lords, were
  Pitt’s most efficient supporters.—ED.]

Footnote 48:

  Line 16.—[Brookes’s Club was the grand rendezvous of the Whigs.—ED.]

Footnote 49:

  Line 17.—[JAS. HARE was M.P. for Knaresborough, and one of the most
  brilliant wits of the Whig Party. At Eton his verses were hung up as
  specimens of excellence. Great expectations were raised as to his
  eloquence in the House of Commons. But his timidity was so great that
  he broke down in his first speech, and this failure, joined with
  delicate health, prevented a second attempt. Horace Walpole speaks of
  his “brilliancy and fire,” and of his own inferiority to him. His
  _bons mots_ were innumerable. He died in 1804. The following is Lord
  Ossory’s opinion of the social talents of some of the best talkers of
  his day:—“Horace Walpole was an agreeable, lively man, very affected,
  always aiming at wit, in which he fell very short of his old friend,
  GEORGE SELWYN, who possessed it in the most genuine but indescribable
  degree. HARE’S conversation abounded with wit, and perhaps of a more
  lively kind; so did BURKE’S, though with much alloy of bad taste; but,
  upon the whole, my brother the General [FITZPATRICK] was the most
  agreeable man in society of any of them.”—MS., R. Vernon Smith.—ED.]

Footnote 50:

  Line 19.—[General FITZPATRICK was one of Fox’s most attached friends
  and political supporters. BOSWELL, speaking of a dinner at
  BEAUCLERK’S, 24th April, 1779, says, on a celebrated wit being
  mentioned (believed to be Fitzpatrick), “JOHNSON replied, ‘I have been
  several times in company with him, but never perceived any strong
  power of wit. He produces a general effect by various means; he has a
  cheerful countenance and a gay voice. Besides his trade is wit. It
  would be as wild in him to come into company without merriment, as for
  a highwayman to take the road without his pistols.’” WALPOLE (in his
  _Journal of the Reign of George III._, i. 167, and ii. 560) describes
  him as “an agreeable young man of parts,” and mentions his “genteel
  irony and badinage”. He was Lord Shelburne’s brother-in-law, at whose
  house Johnson might have met him, as well as in Fox’s company. Rogers
  (_Table Talk_, p. 104) said that Fitzpatrick was at one time nearly as
  famous for his wit as Hare. He possessed no mean poetic talents,
  particularly for compositions of wit, fancy, and satire. To the
  _Rolliad_ he contributed “Extract from the Dedication”; Nos. v., ix.
  and xii., in Part I.; and No. v. in Part II. In the _Political
  Eclogues_, he wrote “The Liars”; and “Pindaric Ode” (No. xv.)—also,
  “Incantation for raising a Phantom, imitated from Macbeth,” in the
  _Political Miscellanies_.

            GENERAL RICHARD FITZPATRICK’S EPITAPH ON HIMSELF.

                           “MY OWN EPITAPH.

           “Whose turn is next? This monitory Stone
           Replies, vain Passenger, perhaps thy own.
           If, idly curious, thou wilt seek to know
           Whose relics mingle with the dust below,
           Enough to tell thee, that his destin’d span
           On Earth he dwelt,—and, like thyself, a Man.
           Nor distant far th’ inevitable day
           When thou, poor mortal, shalt like him be clay.
           Through life he walk’d unemulous of fame,
           Nor wish’d beyond it to preserve a name.
           Content, if Friendship, o’er his humble bier,
           Drop but the heartfelt tribute of a tear;
           Though countless ages should unconscious glide,
           Nor learn that ever he had liv’d, or died.
                                                       “R. F.”

  Such is the epitaph placed on a stone sarcophagus in the usual form,
  in the churchyard at Sunninghill, close to the house where Gen.
  Fitzpatrick’s friend, G. Ellis, died.—Nichols, _Lit. Illustr._, vol.
  vii., pp. 633–4.—ED.]

Footnote 51:

  Line 19.—[Lord JOHN TOWNSHEND, the second son of the first Marquis
  Townshend. He represented Cambridge till ousted by PITT at the general
  election in 1784. In 1788 he became the colleague of FOX for
  Westminster. He afterwards represented Knaresborough for twenty-five
  years: his colleague in 1797 was HARE. He had great powers of wit and
  satire. In the _Political Eclogues_ (subjoined to _The Rolliad_), he
  wrote the one entitled “Jekyll”. To the _Probationary Odes for the
  Laureatship_ he contributed No. xii., in ridicule of Warren Hastings’s
  agent, Major John Scott, M.P. Also, the “Dialogue between a certain
  personage and his Minister,” in imitation of the Ninth Ode of Horace,
  Book III.—ED.]

Footnote 52:

  Line 20.—[Sir FRANCIS BURDETT, then M.P. for Boroughbridge.—ED.]

Footnote 53:

  Line 23.—[JOHN RICHARDSON, M.P. for Newport, Cornwall, and one of the
  proprietors of Drury Lane Theatre. In the _Rolliad_ he was the author,
  in Part I., of Nos. iv., x., and xi.; and in Part II. of Nos. iii. and
  iv. He wrote No. iv. of _Probationary Odes_, in ridicule of Sir R.
  Hill, Bart.; No. xix. on Viscount Mountmorres, and the concluding
  prose portion. To the _Political Miscellanies_ he contributed, “This
  is the House that George Built,” and in conjunction with Tickell, the
  “Epigrams by Sir Cecil Wray,” “Pretymaniana,” and “Foreign Epigrams”.
  In the latter Dr. Laurence assisted them. Also “A Tale: At Brookes’s
  once it so fell out”. “Theatrical Intelligence Extraordinary.”
  “Epigram: Who shall Expect the Country’s Friend?” “A new Ballad: Billy
  Eden,” in conjunction with Tickell. “Proclamation.” He died in
  1803.—ED.]

Footnote 54:

  Line 25.—[The Rev. SAMUEL PARR, LL.D., was not only a great scholar,
  but an uncompromising Whig, and one of Fox’s most enthusiastic
  supporters. His conversational powers were great, and his arguments
  were enforced by boldness, dogmatism, and arrogance, which qualities,
  however, did not always exempt him from stinging retorts even from the
  fair sex. The following, among other attacks, appears in Crabb
  Robinson’s interesting _Diary_, ii. 457:—

                                A RECIPE.

         To half of BUSBY’S skill in mood and tense
         Add BENTLEY’S pleasantry, without his sense:
         Of WARBURTON take all the spleen you find,
         And leave his genius and his wit behind.
         Squeeze CHURCHILL’S rancour from the verse it flows in,
         And knead it stiff with JOHNSON’S heavy prosing.
         Add all the piety of ST. VOLTAIRE,
         Mix the gross compound—_Fiat_ DR. PARR.

  His person, in full canonicals, with capacious wig, unfailing tobacco
  pipe and tankard, is, with the effigies of many other noted
  politicians of the period, introduced into a spirited bacchanalian
  scene by Gillray, published in 1801, entitled _The Union Club_.]

Footnote 55:

  BUZZ PROSE.—The learned reader will perceive that this is an elegant
  _metonymy_, by which the quality belonging to the outside of the head
  is transferred to the inside. _Buzz_ is an epithet usually applied to
  a large wig. It is here used for swelling, burly, bombastic writing.

  There is a picture of HOGARTH’S (the Election Ball, we believe), in
  which there are a number of Hats thrown together in one corner of the
  room; and it is remarked as a peculiar excellence that there is not a
  Hat among them of which you cannot to a certainty point out the owner
  among the figures dancing, or otherwise distributed through the
  picture.

  We remember to have seen an experiment of this kind tried at one of
  the Universities with the _wig_ and _writings_ here alluded to. A page
  taken from the most happy and elaborate part of the writings was laid
  upon a table in a barber’s shop, round which a number of wigs of
  different descriptions and dimensions were suspended, and among them
  that of the Author in question. It was required of a young student,
  after reading a few sentences in the page, to point out among the wigs
  that which must of necessity belong to the Head in which such
  sentences had been engendered. The experiment succeeded to a miracle.
  The learned reader will now see all the beauty and propriety of the
  _metonymy_.

Footnote 56:

  Line 25.—[JOHN COURTENAY was for many years one of the men of mark in
  the House of Commons for his ability, independent spirit, erudition,
  and coarse sarcastic wit. He was born at Carlingford, Ireland, in
  1738. Having obtained the patronage of George, Viscount Townshend,
  Lord-Lieutenant (1767–72), he became the principal writer in the
  “_Batchelor_,” a government paper, distinguished by genuine wit and
  humour, conducted by Simcox, a clergyman; Richard Marlay, afterwards
  Bishop of Waterford and Lismore; Robert Jephson, a dramatic poet of
  note; the Rev. Mr. Boroughs, and others. The chief task of these
  advocates of the Castle was to counteract the “_Baratarian Letters_,”
  an Irish imitation of _Junius_, which, attacking the Lord-Lieutenant’s
  government, received contributions from Flood, and first published
  Grattan’s character of Chatham. At the “Coalition,” 1783, he was
  appointed Surveyor-general of the Ordnance, and henceforward attached
  himself to FOX. He wrote, among other works, _A Poetical Review of the
  Literary and Moral Character of the late Samuel Johnson, LL.D., 1786_;
  _The Rape of Pomona, an Elegiac Epistle from the Waiter at Hockrel to
  the Hon. Mr. Lyttelton, 1773_; _Philosophical Reflections on the late
  Revolution in France_; and a _Biographical Sketch of his own Life_. In
  his _Epistles in Rhyme_ he thus ridicules Horace Walpole’s _Strawberry
  Verses_ on the two Misses Berry:—

          “Who to love tunes his note, with the fire of old age,
          And chirps the trim lay in a trim Gothic cage.”

  Walpole, however (_Correspondence_, ix. 434–5), good-naturedly laughed
  at them, saying that these verses on himself were really some of the
  best in the whole set. Courtenay was a member of _The Literary Club_,
  founded by Sir Joshua Reynolds, and figures in several of Gillray’s
  caricatures. He it was who, referring to Gay’s _Beggars’ Opera_,
  designated the author the _Orpheus of Highwaymen_. He died 24th March,
  1816.—ED.]

Footnote 57:

  KIDNAPP’D RHYMES.—Kidnapp’d implies something more than _stolen_.
  It is, according to an expression of Mr. Sheridan’s (in the
  “Critic”), _using other people’s “thoughts as gipsies do stolen
  children—disfiguring them, to make them pass for their own”_.

  This is a serious charge against an author, and ought to be well
  supported. To the proof then!

  In an Ode of the late LORD NUGENT’S are the following spirited lines:

                “Though CATO liv’d—though TULLY spoke—[58]
                Though BRUTUS dealt the godlike stroke,
                  Yet perish’d fated ROME!”

  The author above mentioned saw these lines, and liked them—as well he
  might; and as he had a mind to write about Rome himself, he did not
  scruple to enlist them into his service; but he thought it right to
  make a small alteration in their appearance, which he managed thus.
  Speaking of Rome, he says it is the place

                          “_Where_ CATO liv’d”:—

  A sober truth! which gets rid at once of all the poetry and spirit of
  the original, and reduces the sentiment from an example of manners,
  virtue, patriotism, from the _vitæ exemplar dedit_ of LORD NUGENT, to
  a mere question of inhabitancy. _Ubi habitavit Cato_—where he was an
  inhabitant-householder, paying scot and lot, and had a house on the
  right-hand side of the way, as you go down _Esquiline_ Hill, just
  opposite to the poulterer’s. But to proceed—

                 “_Where_ CATO liv’d; where TULLY spoke,
                 Where BRUTUS dealt the godlike stroke—
                   —_By which his glory rose_!!!”

  The last line is _not_ borrowed.

  We question whether the history of modern literature can produce an
  instance of a theft so shameless, and turned to so little advantage.]

Footnote 58:

  [Horace Walpole, in a letter to Hannah More, quotes one word of these
  verses incorrectly, writing:—“Though Cato _died_,” an error which P.
  Cunningham allows to pass, as also another, that _Mr._—instead of
  _Lord_—Nugent wrote them.—ED.]

Footnote 59:

  Line 26.—[Sir ROBERT ADAIR. Some observations on his alleged mission
  to St. Petersburgh to counteract the measures of Government will be
  found on a subsequent page. The publication here satirized is entitled
  “Part of a Letter from Robert Adair, Esq., to the Rt. Hon. C. J. Fox;
  occasioned by Mr. Burke’s mention of Lord Keppel in a recent
  publication,” London, Debrett, 1796, and is by no means a contemptible
  composition. It is called “_Part_ of a Letter,” because it is a
  portion of a longer one, being only the part devoted to a vindication
  of the writer’s uncle, Admiral Lord Keppel, and of Fox; with
  characteristic delineations of Sir G. Saville, the Marquis of
  Rockingham, Lord North, and George Byng, M.P., on all of whom he
  passes great compliments.—ED.]

Footnote 60:

  _And loads the blunderbuss with_ BEDFORD’S _brains._—This line is
  wholly unintelligible without a note. And we are afraid the note will
  be wholly incredible, unless the reader can fortunately procure the
  book to which it refers.

  In the “Part of a Letter,” which was published by MR. ROBT. ADAIR, in
  answer to MR. BURKE’S “Letter to the D. of B.,” nothing is so
  remarkable as the studious imitation of Mr. Burke’s style.

  His vehemence, and his passion, and his irony, his wild imagery, his
  far-sought illustrations, his rolling and lengthened periods, and the
  short quick pointed sentences in which he often condenses as much
  wisdom and wit as others would expand through pages, or through
  volumes,—all these are carefully kept in view by his opponent, though
  not always very artificially copied or applied.

  But imitators are liable to be led strangely astray; and never was
  there an instance of a more complete mistake of a plain meaning, than
  that which this line is intended to illustrate—a mistake no less than
  that of a _coffin_ for a _corpse_. This is hard to believe or to
  comprehend—but you shall hear.

  MR. BURKE, in one of his publications, had talked of the French
  “_unplumbing_ the dead in order to destroy the living,”—by which he
  intended, without doubt, not metaphorically, but literally,
  “_stripping the dead of their_ LEADEN COFFINS, _and then making them_
  (_not the_ DEAD _but the_ COFFINS) _into bullets_”. A circumstance
  perfectly notorious at the time the book was written.

  But this does not satisfy our author. He determines to retort MR.
  BURKE’S own words upon him; and unfortunately “reaching at a
  metaphor,” where MR. BURKE only intended a fact, he falls into the
  little mistake above mentioned, and by a stroke of his pen transmutes
  the illustrious HEAD of the house of RUSSELL into a metal, to which it
  is not for us to say how near or how remote his affinity may possibly
  have been. He writes thus—“_If_ MR. BURKE _had been content with
  ‘unplumbing’ a dead Russell, and hewing_ HIM (observe—not the coffin,
  but HIM—the old dead Russell himself) _into grape and canister, to
  sweep down the whole generation of his descendants_,” _&c., &c._

  The thing is scarcely credible; but IT IS SO! We write with the book
  open before us.

Footnote 61:

  Qu.—Surcharge?

[Footnote:

    [62]HORACE, ODE VIII., BOOK II.
                  IN BARINEM.

  _Ulla si juris tibi pejerati
  Pœna, Barine, nocuisset unquam,
  Dente si nigro fieres, vel uno
                                Turpior ungui_,

  _Crederem. [64]Sed tu simul obligâsti
  Perfidum votis caput, enitescis
  Pulchrior multo_, juvenumque prodis
                                Publica cura.

  [66]Expedit _matris cineres_ opertos
  Fallere, et toto [66]_taciturna noctis
  Signa_ cum cœlo, gelidâque Divos
                                Morte carentes.

  _Ridet hoc, inquam, [67]Venus ipsa; rident
  Simplices [69]Nymphæ, ferus et [73]Cupido
  Semper ardentes acuens sagittas_
                                Cote cruentâ.

  Adde quod pubes tibi crescit omnis,
  [74]_Servitus crescit nova; [75]nec priores
  Impiæ tectum dominæ relinquunt,
                                Sæpe minati._

  Te suis matres metuunt juvencis;
  Te [76]_senes parci, miseræque [77]nuper
  Virgines nuptæ, tua ne retardet
                                Aura Maritos._

®

Footnote 63:

Line 3.—[Referring to LORD MOIRA’S complaints against the Government
agents, for unnecessary cruelty to the Irish rebels.—ED.]

Footnote 65:

Line 13.—[The following attack upon Lord Moira, “for his patriotic zeal,
and the correctness and propriety with which he gave, in the upper House
of Parliament, an account of the insurrection upon his estates, and in
other parts of Ireland,” is extracted from the “_Batchelor_”. These
observations were there pointed at the father of Lord Moira, but have
been adapted by the Author of the _Ode_ and the Artist to the son.

_Lord Moira._—“My Lords, I rise to return my thanks to the Noble Lord
who spoke last. I can testify the truth of all he has asserted. At the
time of the Insurrection in the North, I had frequent and intimate
conversations with that celebrated enchanter, _Moll Coggin_. I have
often seen her riding on a black ram with a blue tail. Once I
endeavoured to fire at her, but my gun melted in my hand into a clear
jelly. This jelly I tasted, and if it had been a little more acid, it
would have been most excellent. The Noble Lords may laugh; but I declare
the fact upon my veracity, which has never been doubted. Once I pursued
this fiend into my ale cellar: she rode instantly out of my sight into
the bung-hole of a beer barrel. She was at that time mounted on her
black ram with the blue tail. Some time after, my servants were much
surprised to find their ale full of _blue hairs_. I was not surprised,
as I knew the blue _hairs_ were the hairs of the ram’s _blue tail_.
Noble Lords may stare, but the fact is as I relate it. This _Moll
Coggin_ was the fiend who raised the _Oak-boys_ to rebellion. I was also
well acquainted with the two Cow-boys mentioned by the Noble Lord; they
were my tenants, and were certainly endowed with supernatural powers. I
have known one of them tear up by the roots an Oak two hundred feet
high, and bear it upright on his head four miles! his party were on that
account called Oak-boys. Noble Lords may laugh, but I speak from certain
knowledge. The Oak-tree grew in my garden, and I have often seen five
hundred Swans perching on its boughs; these swans were remarkable for
destroying all the snipes in the country—they flew faster than any snipe
I ever saw, and you may imagine a small bird could make but a feeble
resistance in the talons of a swan. I hope, my Lords, you will pardon my
wandering a little from the present subject,” &c.—ED.]

Footnote 68:

Line 17.—[“One night after _nine o’clock_, a party of Soldiers saw a
light in a house by the road-side—they went and ordered it to be
extinguished immediately: the people of the house begged that the light
might be suffered to remain because there was a child belonging to the
family in convulsion fits, who must expire for want of help if the
people were to be without fire and candle; _but this request_ HAD NO
EFFECT.” _Lord Moira’s Speech in the House of Lords, November 22, 1797._
This statement was, however, satisfactorily disproved. The incident
forms a feature in the accompanying engraving. Notwithstanding official
denials, it has long been admitted that the conduct of the Soldiery in
Ireland was simply infamous. Billeting on Catholics and reputed
malcontents of the better class appears to have been invariably as an
unlimited licence for robbery, devastation, ravishment, and, in case of
resistance, murder. Sir Ralph Abercromby, on assuming the command of the
army in Ireland, declared, in general orders, that their habits and
discipline were such as to render them “formidable to everybody but the
enemy”. The just severity of this phrase was confirmed by the subsequent
experience of Lord Cornwallis.—ED.]

Footnote 70:

Line 19.—[Sir George Augustus William Shuckburgh, distinguished by his
scientific researches, married the daughter and sole heiress of Jas.
Evelyn, Esq. of Felbridge, Surrey, by whom he had an only daughter,
Julia, who became, in 1810, the wife of the Earl of Liverpool. Sir
George, on the decease of his father-in-law in 1793, assumed the
additional surname of Evelyn. He died in 1804, having been five times
returned to Parliament for the county of Warwick.—ED.]

Footnote 71:

Line 20.—[Sir John Macpherson, Bart. was M.P. for Horsham, and for a
short period Governor-General of India.—ED.]

Footnote 72:

Line 21.—[Col. Bastard was M.P. for Devon. He was returned with Mr.
Rolle, the hero of “_The Rolliad_,” on the Pitt interest.—ED.]

Footnote 78:

Line 31.—[Sir William Pulteney was M.P. for Shrewsbury, and no Member in
the House was more looked up to. He was the second son of Sir James
Johnstone, Bart., of Westerhall, and brother of Governor Johnstone. He
married the cousin of Lt.-Gen. Henry Pulteney, surviving brother of
William Pulteney, Earl of Bath, assuming the name of Pulteney. The
General left immense wealth, “the fruits of his brother’s virtues!” as
Horace Walpole sarcastically phrases it. The greater part of it he
bequeathed to the said cousin. Sir William Johnstone Pulteney died in
1805. His daughter was created Countess of Bath.—ED.]

Footnote 79:

The trepidation of Mr. Tooke, though natural, was not necessary; as it
appeared from the ever-memorable “Letter to Mr. M‘Mahon” (which was
published about this time in the _Morning Chronicle_, and threw the
whole town into paroxysms of laughter), that in the Administration which
his Lordship was so gravely employed in forming, Mr. Fox was to have no
place!

Footnote 81:

Line 36.—[Of M‘MAHON it is said in T. RAIKES’S _Journal_ (November,
1836):—“George IV. never had any private friends: he selected his
confidants from his minions. M‘MAHON was an Irishman of low birth and
obsequious manners: he was a little man, his face red, covered with
pimples; always dressed in the blue and buff uniform, with his hat on
one side, copying the air of his master, to whom he was a prodigious
foil, and ready to execute any commissions, which in those days were
somewhat complicated.” He was private secretary and keeper of the privy
purse to King George IV. when Prince Regent, was sworn of the Privy
Council, and created a Baronet, 7th August, 1817, with remainder, in
default of male issue, to his brother. SIR JOHN died 12th September,
1817, the title devolving on his brother THOMAS, a distinguished
military officer, who was Adjutant-General of Her Majesty’s forces in
India, Lieut.-Gov. of Portsmouth, Commander-in-Chief of the Bombay Army,
&c.

SIR JOHN M‘MAHON left a large personal property, amounting to £90,000.
One of his bequests is thus worded: “To THOMAS MARRABLE, a dear and
esteemed friend, £2000; and with my last prayers for the glory and
happiness of the best-hearted man in the world, the PRINCE REGENT, I
bequeath him the said Thomas Marrable, an invaluable servant”. The
latter was a member of the household of King George IV., and one of his
confidential agents. A full-length portrait of him as one of the
procession is given in Sir G. Nayler’s history of the coronation of that
monarch.

Among Gillray’s _Caricatures_ is an amusing one, engraved but not
designed by him, published in 1804, representing the Heir-Apparent,
mounted on a tall horse, with the much smaller person of M‘Mahon
consequentially riding on a diminutive steed at his side, passing the
gates of Carlton House. The quotation from Burns engraved on it suggests
that the Prince might still prove a worthy occupant of the throne.—ED.]

Footnote 82:

[As if written by ROBERT ADAIR, who had previously indited “HALF _a
Letter to Mr. Fox_”.]

[Footnote:

  [83]Non usitatâ nec tenui ferar
  Pennâ biformis per liquidum æthera
  Vates.
  [84]——Non ego, quem vocas
  Dilecte, Mæcenas, obibo,
  [85]Nec Stygiâ cohibebor undâ.
  [86]Jamjam residunt cruribus asperæ
  Pelles, et album mutor in alitem
  [87]Supernê, nascunturque leves
  Per digitos humerosque plumæ.
  Visam gementis littora Bosphori,
  Syrtesque Gætulas,[89] canorus
  Ales,[90] Hyperboreosque campos.
  [91]Me Colchus, et qui[92] dissimulat metum
  * * *
  * * * me peritus
  Discet Iber Rhodanique[93] potor.
  Absint[94] inani funere neniæ,
  [95]Luctusque turpes et querimoniæ.
  [96] —— —— —— sepulchri
  Mitte supervacuous honores.

®

Footnote 88:

[MR. PITT’S Tax upon Hair-powder proved a failure; many of the public
declining its use. Those who continued it were called “_guinea-pigs_,”
the tax being a guinea per head.—ED.]

Footnote 97:

[For an explanation of this allusion, see Note at p. 74.—ED.]

[Footnote:

  [98]Acmen Septimius suos amores
  Tenens in gremio, mea, inquit, Acme,
  Ni te perdite amo, &c.
  [99]Cæsio veniam obvius Leoni.
  [100]Hoc ut dixit, Amor sinistram, ut ante
  Dextram, sternuit approbationem.
  [101]At Acme leviter caput reflectens,
  Et dulcis pueri ebrios ocellos
  Illo purpureo ore suaviata,
  Sic, inquit, mea vita,[102] Septimille, &c.
  [103]Nunc ab auspicio bono profecti
  Mutuis animis amant, amantur.
  Unam Septimius misellus Acmen
  Mavult quam[104] Syrias Britanniasque.[105]

®

Footnote 105:

_I.e._, The Clerkship of the Pells in Ireland, and Auditorship of South
Wales.

Footnote 106:

[On 7th Feb., 1796, a _forged_ French newspaper called _L’Eclair_,
containing false intelligence, was circulated in London for
stock-jobbing purposes. On 3rd July a verdict of £100 was given against
D. STUART, proprietor of _The Morning Post_, for sending the above paper
to the proprietors of _The Telegraph_, by which it was discredited; and
on the following day, a verdict of £1500 was given against Mr.
Dickinson, for falsely accusing Mr. Goldsmid, the money-broker, of
forging the above. It announced a peace between Austria and France.—ED.]

Footnote 107:

_Morning Post_, Jan. 25.

Footnote 108:

_Morning Chronicle_, Jan. 25.

Footnote 109:

This appears to allude to Mr. SHERIDAN’S conduct during the _Mutiny_.

Footnote 110:

This is not the first time that we have heard of Mr. TIERNEY’S
discouragement of impiety. However we may disapprove of this gentleman’s
political principles, we are not insensible to the merit of such
conduct.

Footnote 111:

_Morning Post_, Jan. 25.

Footnote 112:

_Morning Chronicle_, Jan. 25.

Footnote 113:

_Morning Chronicle_, _Morning Post_, _Morning Herald_, &c.

Footnote 114:

The Company seem to have recollected (had _his Grace_ forgotten?) that
the DUKE of NORFOLK has _another_ SOVEREIGN, to whom he has recently,
more than once, sworn Allegiance; and under whom he _now_ holds the
LIEUTENANCY of the WEST RIDING of the COUNTY OF YORK, and the Command of
a REGIMENT of MILITIA.

Footnote 115:

See _The True Briton_, of Thursday, Jan. 25.

Footnote 116:

Conjuravere Cives nobilissimi Patriam incendere—_Gallorum_ gentem
infestissimam nomini Romano in bellum arcessunt—Dux Hostium cum exercitu
supra caput est.—ORAT. CATON. ap. SALLUST.

Footnote 117:

Tum Catilina polliceri tabulas novas, proscriptionem locupletium,
Magistrates, Sacerdotia, rapinas, alia omnia quæ bellum atque lubido
Victorum fert.—SALLUST.

Footnote 118:

[“A Correspondent cautions us against making a profane use of MR.
WILBERFORCE’S appearance on Sunday; that gentleman would not have been
so ungodly as to gallop there without a sufficient reason—it was the
fulfilment of some Prophecy; and the horse he rode might be related to
the White Horse of the Revelations.”—_Morning Chronicle_, Jan. 11,
1798.—ED.]

Footnote 119:

[This refers to Charles Howard, eleventh DUKE OF NORFOLK, (who gave, at
a public dinner, the famous toast of “Our Sovereign’s health, the
Majesty of the People,”) and to John Horne Tooke, who was a regularly
ordained clergyman, and had been tried for High Treason and
acquitted.—ED.]

Footnote 120:

[These lines allude to the Empress Catherine’s placing in her gallery
the bust of Fox between those of Demosthenes and Cicero, as a token of
gratitude for his exertions in defeating the project of PITT, who, in
conjunction with Prussia and Holland, had, in 1791, prepared a powerful
armament to compel her to give up Ockzakow, which she had seized. The
Court party delighted in stigmatizing FOX as the modern _Catiline_. “But
the part which he took in parliament subsequent to 1793, (says _Sir N.
W. Wraxall_), and the eulogiums lavished by him on the French
Revolution, soon changed the Empress’s tone. She caused the bust to be
removed; and when reproached with such a change in her conduct, she
replied, ‘C’étoit Monsieur Fox de _Quatre-vingt-onze_ que j’ai placé
dans mon cabinet’.”—_Wraxall’s Posthumous Memoirs_, vol. 1, pp. 435,
436.

“It seems to have escaped general notice, (says Sir James Prior in his
Life of Burke), that the misfortunes of Poland in her final partition
may be, in some degree, attributed, however undesignedly on their part,
to Mr. Fox and the Opposition, in the strong and unusual means made use
of to thwart Mr. Pitt in the business of Ockzakow. They lay claim, it is
true, to the merit of having prevented war on that occasion. But if war
had then taken place with England for one act of violence comparatively
trivial, Russia, in all probability, would not have ventured upon a
second and still greater aggression, involving the existence of a
nation, with the certainty of a second war. Nothing, after all, might
have saved Poland from the combination then on foot against her; but it
is certain that Mr. Pitt, from recent experience, had little
encouragement to make the attempt.”

It is a curious circumstance that, though the _plate_ illustrating these
_Lines_ was published, according to its inscription, on the 17th March,
1792, the five stanzas engraved on it are identical with those which
appeared in the _Anti-Jacobin_ of 12th Feb., 1798, though these were
introduced as written “by an English Traveller just [_sic_] returned
from Petersburgh”.

Assuming the date on the engraving to be correct, we might account for
the _parachronism_ on the supposition that the author of the earlier
_plate-stanzas_ availed himself of the appearance of the _Lines written
under the Bust of Charles Fox at the Crown and Anchor to reproduce
them_—six years afterwards—with a few verbal alterations, to adapt them
to a later period—and with an equivocal statement as to the period of
their first production.

The following are the alterations in the reprinted version:—

            Stanza 2 line 3, frantic _for_ lawless.
              „    3  „   1, their country’s _for_ domestic.
              „    3  „   1, and wealth and _for_ external.
              „    3  „   3, honoured _for_ sacred.
              „    4  „   1, now _for_ then.
              „    4  „   3, advocate _for_ tool confessed.
              „    4  „   4, later _for_ modern.
              „    5  „   2, thus _for_ now.
              „    5  „   4, Catiline _for_ Cataline.
              „    5  „   4, modern _for_ later.—ED.]

Footnote 121:

[Written to ridicule Richard Payne Knight’s _Progress of Civil Society_,
a Didactic Poem, in Six Books. London, 1796, 4to.—ED.]

Footnote 122:

_Ver._ 3. A modern author of great penetration and judgment observes
very shrewdly, that “the cosmogony of the world has puzzled the
philosophers of all ages. What a medley of opinions have they not
broached upon the creation of the world. Sanconiathon, Manetho, Berosus,
and Ocellus Lucanus have all attempted it in vain. The latter has these
words—_Anarchon ara kai ateleutaion to pan_—which imply, that all things
have neither beginning nor end.” See Goldsmith’s _Vicar of Wakefield_;
see also Mr. Knight’s Poem on the _Progress of Civil Society_.

Footnote 123:

_Ver._ 12. The influence of Mind upon Matter, comprehending the whole
question of the Existence of Mind as independent of Matter, or as
co-existent with it, and of Matter considered as an intelligent and
self-dependent Essence, will make the subject of a larger Poem in 127
Books, now preparing under the _same_ auspices.

Footnote 124:

_Ver._ 14. See Godwin’s _Enquirer_; Darwin’s _Zoonomia_; Paine;
Priestley, &c. &c.; also all the French Encyclopædists.

Footnote 125:

_Ver._ 16. _Quæstio spinosa et contortula._

Footnote 126:

_Ver._ 26. “Add thereto a tiger’s chawdron.”—Macbeth.

Footnote 127:

_Ver._ 26, 27.

         “In softer notes bids Lybian lions roar,
         And warms the whale on Zembla’s frozen shore.”
                 _Progress of Civil Society_, Book I. ver. 98.

Footnote 128:

_Ver._ 29. “An oyster may be crossed in love.”—Mr. Sheridan’s _Critic_.

Footnote 129:

_Ver._ 34. Birds fly.

Footnote 130:

_Ver._ 35. But neither fish, nor beasts—particularly as here
exemplified.

Footnote 131:

_Ver._ 36. The bear.

Footnote 132:

_Ver._ 37. The mackerel—there are also _hard-roed_ mackerel. _Sed de his
alio loco._

Footnote 133:

_Ver._ 38. Bear’s _grease_, or _fat_, is also in great request; being
supposed to have a _criniparous_, or hair-producing quality.

Footnote 134:

_Ver._ 39. There is a special Act of Parliament which permits mackerel
to be cried on Sundays.

Footnote 135:

_Ver._ 45 to 49. Every animal contented with the lot which it has drawn
in life. A fine contrast to man, who is always discontented.

Footnote 136:

_Ver._ 49. _Salt wave_—wave of the sea—“_briny wave_”.—Poetæ passim.

Footnote 137:

_Ver._ 50. A still stronger contrast, and a greater shame to man, is
found in plants;—they too are contented—he restless and changing. _Mens
agitat mihi, nec placida contenta quiete est._

Footnote 138:

_Ver._ 50. _Potatoes ’tatoes breed._ Elision for the sake of verse, not
meant to imply that the root degenerates.—Not so with man—

                                   Mox daturus
                         Progeniem vitiosiorem.

Footnote 139:

_Ver._ 61–66. Simple state of savage life—previous to the pastoral, or
even the hunter state.

Footnote 140:

_Ver._ 66. First savages disciples of Pythagoras.

Footnote 141:

_Ver._ 67, &c. Desire of animal food natural only to beasts, or to man
in a state of civilized society. First suggested by the circumstances
here related.

Footnote 142:

_Ver._ 71. Pigs of the _Chinese_ breed most in request.

Footnote 143:

_Ver._ 76. First formation of a bow. Introduction of the science of
archery.

Footnote 144:

_Ver._ 79. Grass twisted, used for a string, owing to the want, of other
materials not yet invented.

Footnote 145:

_Ver._ 83. Bone—fish’s bone found on the sea-shore, shark’s teeth, &c.
&c.

Footnote 146:

_Ver._ 90. Ah! what avails, &c.—See Pope’s _Description of the death of
a Pheasant_.

Footnote 147:

_Ver._ 93. “With leaden eye that loves the ground.”

Footnote 148:

_Ver._ 94. The first effusion of blood attended with the most dreadful
consequences to mankind.

Footnote 149:

_Ver._ 97. _Social_ Man’s wickedness opposed to the simplicity of savage
life.

Footnote 150:

_Ver._ 100, 101. Different causes of war among men.

Footnote 151:

_Ver._ 106. Invention of fire—first employed in cookery, and produced by
rubbing dry sticks together.

Footnote 152:

[Written in the character of C. J. FOX, at his seat, St. Anne’s Hill,
near Chertsey, during his secession from Parliament from 1797 to 1802.
His fondness for the Greek Poets is well known.—ED.]

Footnote 153:

[Alluded to at page 79.—ED.]

Footnote 154:

[Erskine was noted for his intense vanity, which procured him the
nickname of _Ego_. Sir John Bowring, who knew him well, gives in his
_Autobiography_ several instances of this peculiarity, one of which is
here inserted. “The master-string of his mind was vanity; its
vibrations trembling to the very end of his existence. He said, ‘When
the Emperor Alexander came to England, Lord Granville told me that the
Emperor wished to see me. I went. He received me with particular
attention, and said he was very anxious to make my acquaintance. He
spoke English as well as you do. “You are a friend and correspondent,”
he said, “of my most valued friend La Harpe?” “Yes, sire.” “Is he a
regular correspondent?” “Yes, a very kind one.” “Has he been so of
late?” “Well, if your Majesty will cross-examine me, I must own he
owes me a letter.” He put his hand into his pocket, and drew forth a
letter addressed to me. “Yes, there is his answer. I intercepted it
that I might have the pleasure of knowing Lord Erskine.” I gave
Alexander all my writings and speeches, which he received with many
expressions of satisfaction.’”—ED.]

Footnote 155:

[On April 3, 1797, an open-air meeting of the inhabitants of Westminster
was held in Palace Yard, during very inclement weather (Westminster Hall
having been shut against them by order of the keeper), to consider of an
address to his Majesty to dismiss PITT’S ministry. FOX and the Duke of
Bedford took part in the proceedings. Meetings were held about the same
time all over the country for the same object.—ED.]

Footnote 156:

[After Lord Shelburne’s resignation of the office of Prime Minister,
consequent on the coalition of Fox and Lord North, he was created
Marquis of Lansdowne, and withdrew almost entirely from public life,
passing his time principally at his magnificent seat, Bowood, near
Calne, Wiltshire.—ED.]

Footnote 157:

                     NOTES TO THE “NEW COALITION”.

[The Secret History of FOX’S coalition with LORD NORTH, his former
adversary,—a proceeding which entailed on him much odium,—was first
brought to light by the publication of the “Memorials and Correspondence
of Charles James Fox,” begun by the late Lord Holland, and edited by
Earl Russell. It was occasioned by his disgust at the conduct of the
Earl of Shelburne, for while FOX as one of the Secretaries of State
under the Rockingham Administration was treating with Dr. Franklin for
peace with the United States through the agent of the Cabinet (Thomas
Grenville) Lord Shelburne, the other Secretary of State, was, through
_his_ agent Oswald, privately thwarting his measures, and that with the
concurrence of the King! The consequence of the Coalition was the fall
of Lord Shelburne’s ministry, and Fox and Lord North’s “taking the
Treasury by storm”.—ED.]

Footnote 158:

[The _India Bill_ brought in by FOX, shortly after his accession to
office, was the signal for his downfall. The Bill passed the House of
Commons by large majorities, but when it reached the Lords, the King,
who hated FOX, empowered Earl Temple to declare that he would consider
everyone who supported the measure as personally his enemy. The Bill was
consequently lost on the second reading by a majority of eighty-seven
against twenty-nine. The Coalition Ministry resigned, and PITT, then in
his 23rd year, became Prime Minister.]

Footnote 159:

[JOHN NICHOLLS, M.P. for Tregony, was blind of one eye, and altogether
remarkably ugly. His delivery was ungraceful, and his action generally
much too vehement. He wrote _Recollections and Reflections during the
Reign of George III._, 2 vols. 8vo., 1822. His hostile pamphlet on the
_Income Tax_ is marked by great ability.—ED.]

Footnote 160:

[On the 14th April, 1794, THELWALL was in the chair at a supper of one
of the Divisions of the Reformers, and blowing off the head of a pot of
porter said, “This is the way I would have all kings served”.—ED.]

Footnote 161:

[JOHN HORNE TOOKE was educated for the Church, and in 1760 became vicar
of _New Brentford_. Resigning this he studied the Law, but being a
clergyman was refused admission to the Bar. At first he supported PITT,
then a _promising_ Reformer, publishing in 1788 his “Two Pair of
Portraits,” disadvantageously contrasting FOX and his father with Pitt
and his father. But Pitt not fulfilling his hopes, he became his bitter
opponent and softened his animosity towards FOX. In 1775 he was
imprisoned for a libel on the king’s troops in America. In 1790 he was
an unsuccessful candidate for Westminster; the other candidates being
FOX and Admiral Sir Alan Gardner. In 1794 he was tried, in company with
THELWALL and others, for high treason, when all were acquitted. In 1796
he again stood for Westminster, and failed; but in 1801 he obtained a
seat in Parliament for Old Sarum, on the nomination of Lord Camelford. A
remarkable memoir of him was contributed to the _Quarterly Review_, vol.
7, by Lord Dudley, Secretary for Foreign Affairs in Canning’s
administration, 1827–8.—ED.]

[Footnote:

        HOR. LIB. III., CARM. XXV.
              DITHYRAMBUS.

  [162]Quo me, Bacche, rapis, tui
  Plenum? quæ nemora, aut quos agor in specus,
  Velox mente novâ?
                         [163]Quibus
  Antris egregii Cæsaris audiar
  Eternum meditans decus
  Stellis inserere, et consilio Jovis?

®

Footnote 164:

                      Dicam insigne, recens, adhuc
                      Indictum ore alio.

Footnote 165:

                               Non secus in jugis
                       Exsomnis stupet Evias,
                       Hebrum prospiciens.

Footnote 166:

                               et nive candidam
                       Thracen, ac _pede barbaro
                       Lustratam Rhodopen_.

Footnote 167:

There appears to have been some little mistake in the Translator
here—_Rhodope_ is not, as he seems to imagine, the name of a woman, but
of a mountain, and not in _Russia_. Possibly, however, the Translator
may have been misled by the inaccuracy of the traveller here alluded to.

Footnote 168:

                                 Ut mihi devio
                         Rupes, et vacuum nemus
                         Mirari libet!

[Footnote:

          [169]O Naiadum potens
  Baccharumque valentium
  Proceras manibus vertere fraxinos.
  [170]Nil parvum, aut humili modo,
  Nil mortale loquar. Dulce periculum est,
  O Lenæe, sequi deum
  Cingentem viridi tempora pampino.

®

Footnote 171:

[This clever parody has reference to the attempt made by the DUKE OF
NORTHUMBERLAND to evade payment of PITT’S Income-tax. To mitigate the
severity of the pressure on persons with large families, a deduction of
ten per cent. was allowed to persons who had above a certain number of
children. Among others the Duke was not ashamed to avail himself of this
clause.—ED.]

Footnote 172:

[See Note at p. 84 in “_A Bit of an Ode to Mr. Fox_,” line 18.—ED.]

Footnote 173:

[SIR HUGH SMITHSON married Lady Eliz. Seymour, great-granddaughter of
Joceline, eleventh Earl of Northumberland, who was the last of the male
Percies. He was created DUKE OF NORTHUMBERLAND in 1766. The hero of this
Ballad was his son, who died in 1817.—ED.]

Footnote 174:

The ceremony of invocation (in didactic poems especially) is in some
measure analogous to the custom of drinking toasts; the corporeal
representatives of which are always supposed to be absent, and
unconscious of the irrigation bestowed upon their names. Hence it is,
that our Author addresses himself to the natives of an island who are
not likely to hear, and who, if they did, would not understand him.

Footnote 175:

His Majesty’s ship _Endeavour_.

Footnote 176:

In justice to our Author we must observe, that there is a delicacy in
this picture, which the words, in their common acceptation, do not
convey. The amours of an English shepherd would probably be preparatory
to marriage (which is contrary to our Author’s principles), or they
might disgust us by the vulgarity of their object. But in Otaheite,
where the place of a shepherd is a perfect sinecure (there being no
sheep on the island), the mind of the reader is not offended by any
disagreeable allusion.

Footnote 177:

Laws made by parliaments or kings.

Footnote 178:

Customs voted or imposed by ditto, not the customs here alluded to.

Footnote 179:

M. Bailly and other astronomers have observed, that in consequence of
the varying obliquity of the Ecliptic, the climates of the circumpolar
and tropical climates may, in process of time, be materially changed.
Perhaps it is not very likely that even by these means Britain may ever
become a small island in the South Seas. But this is not the meaning of
the verse—the similarity here proposed relates to manners, not to local
situation.

Footnote 180:

The word _one_ here, means all the inhabitants of Europe (excepting the
French, who have remedied this inconvenience), not any particular
individual. The Author begs leave to disclaim every allusion that can be
construed as personal.

Footnote 181:

As a stream—simile of dissimilitude, a mode of illustration familiar to
the ancients.

Footnote 182:

Walks of polished life, see “Kensington Gardens,” a poem.

Footnote 183:

Germania—Germany; a country in Europe, peopled by the Germani: alluded
to in Cæsar’s Commentaries, page 1, vol. ii. edit. prin. See also
several Didactic Poems.

Footnote 184:

A beautiful figure of German literature. The Hottentots remarkable for
staring at each other—God knows why.

Footnote 185:

This delightful and instructive picture of domestic life is recommended
to all keepers of boarding-schools, and other seminaries of the same
nature.

Footnote 186:

It is a singular quality of brandied cherries that they exchange their
flavour for that of the liquor in which they are immersed.—See Knight’s
_Progress of Civil Society_.

Footnote 187:

This division of the word is in the true spirit of the English as well
as the ancient Sapphic. See the “Counter-Scuffle,” “Counter-Rat,” and
other poems in this style.

Footnote 188:

[The Rev. Gilbert Wakefield wrote several pamphlets against government,
of which no notice was taken, until his Letter to the Bishop of Llandaff
appeared, when the Attorney-General instituted a prosecution against
him. He was found guilty and imprisoned; during which imprisonment a
subscription of £3000 among his friends supported his wife and family
very comfortably.—ED.]

Footnote 189:

[John Gale Jones was an active political agitator for many years. In
1810, he was the conductor of the debating club, denominated the
“British Forum,” which at one of its meetings discussed the propriety of
the exclusion of strangers from the House of Commons during the debates
on the Walcheren Expedition. For his observations the House,
disregarding his apology, committed him to Newgate.—ED.]

Footnote 190:

[“John Thelwall left his shop (that of a silk mercer) to be one of the
Reformers of the age. After his acquittal he went about the country
lecturing. Sometimes he was attended by numerous admirers, but more
frequently hooted and pelted by the mob. In order to escape prosecution
for sedition, he took as his subject Greek and Roman history, and had
ingenuity enough to give such a colouring to events and characters, as
to render the application to living persons and present events an
exciting mental exercise. I heard one or two of these lectures, and
thought very differently of him then from what I thought afterwards.
When, however, he found his popularity on the wane, and more stringent
laws had been passed, to which he individually gave occasion, he came to
the prudent resolution of abandoning his vagrant habits, and leading a
farmer’s life in a beautiful place near Brecon.... He was an amiable man
in private life, an affectionate husband, and a fond father. He
altogether mistook his talents—he told me without reserve that he
believed he should establish his name among the epic poets of England;
and it is a curious thing considering his own view’s that he thought the
establishment of Christianity, and the British Constitution, very
appropriate subjects for his poem.... THELWALL, unlike Hardy, had the
weakness of vanity; but he was a perfectly honest man, and had a power
of declamation which qualified him to be a mob orator. He used to say
that if he were at the gallows with liberty to address the people for
half-an-hour, he should not fear the result; he was sure he could excite
them to a rescue. I became acquainted with him soon after his acquittal,
and never ceased to respect him for his sincerity, though I did not
think highly of his understanding.”—_Crabb Robinson’s Diary_, 1790 and
1799.—ED.]

Footnote 191:

[These “Gagging Bills,” of 1796, required that notice should be given to
the magistrate of any public meeting to be held on political subjects;
he was authorized to be present, and empowered to seize those guilty of
sedition on the spot; and a second offence against the act was
punishable with transportation. So exasperated were the Opposition with
this measure that Fox and a large part of the minority withdrew
altogether for a considerable time from the House.—ED.]

Footnote 192:

There is a doubt, whether this word should not have been written _liar_.

Footnote 193:

These words, of _conviction_ and _hanging_, have so ominous a sound, it
is rather odd they were chosen.

Footnote 194:

[The hero of the above song was Charles Howard, eleventh Duke of
Norfolk, who both as a member of the House of Commons (while Earl of
Surrey), and afterwards as a peer, was one of FOX’S most strenuous
supporters. SIR N. WRAXALL thus describes him: “Nature, which cast him
in her coarsest mould, had not bestowed on him any of the external
insignia of high descent. His person, large, muscular, and clumsy, was
destitute of grace or dignity, though he possessed much activity. At a
time when men of every description wore hair-powder and a queue, he had
the courage to cut his hair short, and to renounce powder, which he
never used except when going to court. In his youth he led a most
licentious life, having frequently passed the whole night in excesses of
every kind, and even lain down, when intoxicated, occasionally to sleep
in the streets, or on a block of wood. In cleanliness he was negligent
to so great a degree that he rarely made use of water for the purpose of
bodily refreshment and comfort.” Complaining one day to Dudley North
that he was a martyr to the rheumatism, and had ineffectually tried
every remedy for its relief, “Pray, my lord,” said he, “did you ever try
a clean shirt?” It must not be forgotten, however, that he was a
munificent patron of literature, for he defrayed the entire expense of
printing Taylor’s Translation of Plato, 5 vols. 4to.; Dallaway’s History
of Sussex, 2 vols. 4to.; and Duncumb’s History of Herefordshire, 2 vols.
The initials B. O. B. refer to _Mr._ (afterwards _Sir Robert_) _Adair_,
who is often alluded to in these pages.—ED.]

Footnote 195:

[These observations are directed against Godwin’s work on “Political
Justice,” which, on its first appearance, excited extraordinary
attention. His aim was to represent the whole system of society as
radically and essentially wrong, and to extirpate all those principles
which uphold its present constitution. The existence of the Deity is
spoken of as an hypothesis, and the ethics are worthy of the religion.
HOLCROFT reviewed it in the “Monthly Review,” but was doubtful whether
to praise or blame it.—ED.]

[“I noticed (says CRABB ROBINSON in 1811) the infinite superiority of
GODWIN over the French writers in moral feeling and tendency. I had
learned to hate Helvetius and Mirabeau, and yet retained my love for
GODWIN. This was agreed to as a just sentiment.”—ED.]

Footnote 196:

[Written in ridicule of Dr. DARWIN’S _Loves of the Plants_.]

Footnote 197:

Ver. 1–4. Imitated from the introductory couplet to the _Economy of
Vegetation_:

         “Stay your rude steps, whose throbbing breasts infold
         The legion fiends of glory and of gold”

This sentiment is here expanded into four lines.

Footnote 198:

Ver. 6. _Definition_—A distinct notion explaining the genesis of a
thing.—_Wolfius._

Footnote 199:

Ver. 7. _Postulate_—A self-evident proposition.

Footnote 200:

Ver. 8. _Axiom_—An indemonstrable truth.

Footnote 201:

Ver. 9. _Tangents_—So called from touching, because they touch circles,
and never cut them.

Footnote 202:

Ver. 10. _Circles_—See Chambers’s Dictionary, article “Circle”.

Footnote 203:

Ver. 10. _Osculation_—For the _osculation_, or kissing of circles and
other curves, see Huygens, who has veiled this delicate and inflammatory
subject in the decent obscurity of a learned language.

Footnote 204:

Ver. 11. _Cissois_—A curve supposed to resemble the sprig of ivy, from
which it has its name, and therefore peculiarly adapted to poetry.

Footnote 205:

Ver. 12. _Conchois_, or _Conchylis_—A most beautiful and picturesque
curve; it bears a fanciful resemblance to a _conch_ shell. The conchois
is capable of infinite extension, and presents a striking analogy
between the animal and mathematical creation—every individual of this
species containing within itself a series of _young_ conchoids for
several generations, in the same manner as the Aphides and other insect
tribes are observed to do.

Footnote 206:

Ver. 15. _Hydrostatics_—Water has been supposed, by several of our
philosophers, to be capable of the passion of love. Some later
experiments appear to favour this idea. Water, when pressed by a
moderate degree of heat, has been observed to simper, or simmer, as it
is more usually called. The same does not hold true of any other
element.

Footnote 207:

Ver. 17. _Acoustics_—The doctrine or theory of sound.

Footnote 208:

Ver. 18. _Euclid and Algebra_—The loves and nuptials of these two
interesting personages, forming a considerable episode in the third
canto, are purposely omitted here.

Footnote 209:

Ver. 19. _Pulley_—So called from our Saxon word to PULL, signifying to
pull or draw.

Footnote 210:

Ver. 23. _Fair sylphish forms_—_Vide_ modern prints of nymphs and
shepherds dancing to nothing at all.

Footnote 211:

Ver. 27. _Such rich confusion_—Imitated from the following genteel and
sprightly lines in the first canto of the “Loves of the Plants”:

          “So bright its folding canopy withdrawn,
          Glides the gilt landau o’er the velvet lawn,
          Of beaux and belles displays the glittering throng,
          And soft airs fan them as they glide along”.

Footnote 212:

Ver. 38. _Angle_—Gratus puellæ risus ab Angulo.—_Hor._

Footnote 213:

Ver. 39. _How slow progressive Points_—The Author has reserved the
picturesque imagery which the _theory of fluxions_ naturally suggested
for his “Algebraic Garden,” where the _fluents_ are described as rolling
with an even current between a margin of _curves_ of the higher order
over a pebbly channel, inlaid with _differential calculi_.

In the following six lines he has confined himself to a strict
explanation of the theory, according to which lines are supposed to be
generated by the motion of points, planes by the lateral motion of
lines, and solids from planes, by a similar process.

_Quære_—Whether a practical application of this theory would not enable
us to account for the genesis or original formation of space itself, in
the same manner in which Dr. Darwin has traced the whole of the
organized creation to his six filaments—Vide _Zoonomia_. We may conceive
the whole of our present universe to have been originally concentred in
a single point; we may conceive this primeval point, or _punctum
saliens_ of the universe, evolving itself by its own energies, to have
moved forward in a right line, _ad infinitum_, till it grew tired; after
which the right line which it had generated would begin to put itself in
motion in a lateral direction, describing an area of infinite extent.
This area, as soon as it became conscious of its own existence, would
begin to ascend or descend, according as its specific gravity might
determine it, forming an immense solid space filled with vacuum, and
capable of containing the present existing universe.

Space being thus obtained, and presenting a suitable nidus, or
receptacle for the generation of chaotic matter, an immense deposit of
it would gradually be accumulated; after which, the filament of _fire_
being produced in the chaotic mass by an _idiosyncrasy_, or self-formed
habit, analogous to fermentation, _explosion_ would take place; _suns_
would be shot from the central chaos; _planets_ from _suns_; and
_satellites_ from _planets_. In this state of things the filament of
_organization_ would begin to exert itself in those independent masses
which, in proportion to their bulk, exposed the greatest surface to the
action of _light_ and _heat_. This filament, after an infinite series of
ages, would begin to _ramify_, and its viviparous offspring would
diversify their forms and habits, so as to accommodate themselves to the
various _incunabula_ which Nature had prepared for them. Upon this view
of things it seems highly probable that the first effort of Nature
terminated in the production of vegetables, and that these, being
abandoned to their own _energies_, by degrees detached themselves from
the surface of the earth, and supplied themselves with wings or feet,
according as their different propensities determined them in favour of
aerial and terrestrial existence. Others, by an inherent disposition to
society and civilization, and by a stronger effort of _volition_, would
become men. These, in time, would restrict themselves to the use of
their _hind feet_; their _tails_ would gradually rub off by sitting in
their caves or huts, as soon as they arrived at a domesticated state;
they would invent _language_ and the use of _fire_, with our present and
hitherto imperfect system of _society_. In the meanwhile, the _Fuci_ and
_Algæ_, with the _Corallines_ and _Madrepores_, would transform
themselves into _fish_, and would gradually populate all the submarine
portion of the globe.

Footnote 214:

Ver. 46. _Trochais_—The Nymph of the Wheel, supposed to be in love with
Smoke-Jack.

Footnote 215:

Ver. 56. _The conscious fire_—The sylphs and genii of the different
elements have a variety of innocent occupations assigned them; those of
fire are supposed to divert themselves with writing _Kunkel_ in
phosphorus.—See _Economy of Vegetation_:

            “Or mark, with shining letters, Kunkel’s name
            In the pale _phosphor’s_ self-consuming flame”.

Footnote 216:

Ver. 68. _Listening ears_—Listening, and therefore peculiarly suited to
a pair of diamond ear-rings. See the description of Nebuchadnezzar in
his transformed state—

          “Nor flattery’s self can pierce his _pendent ears_”.

In poetical diction, a person is said to “_breathe the_ BLUE _air_,” and
to “_drink the_ HOARSE _wave_!”—not that the colour of the sky or the
noise of the water has any reference to drinking or breathing, but
because the poet obtains the advantage of thus describing his subject
under a _double relation_, in the same manner in which material objects
present themselves to our different senses at the same time.

Footnote 217:

Ver. 73. _Cock-tailed mice_—Coctilibus Muris. _Ovid._—There is reason to
believe that the _murine_, or _mouse_ species, were anciently much more
numerous than at the present day. It appears from the sequel of the
line, that Semiramis surrounded the city of Babylon with a number of
these animals.

                                     _Dicitur altam
              Coctilibus Muris cinxisse Semiramis urbem._

It is not easy at present to form any conjecture with respect to the
end, whether of ornament or defence, which they could be supposed to
answer. I should be inclined to believe, that in this instance the mice
were dead, and that so vast a collection of them must have been
furnished by way of tribute, to free the country from these destructive
animals. This superabundance of the _murine_ race must have been owing
to their immense fecundity, and to the comparatively tardy reproduction
of the _feline_ species. The traces of this disproportion are to be
found in the early history of every country.—The ancient laws of Wales
estimate a cat at the price of as much corn as would be sufficient to
cover her, if she were suspended by the tail with her fore-feet touching
the ground.—See Howel Dha.—In Germany, it is recorded that an army of
rats, a larger animal of the mus tribe, was employed as the ministers of
divine vengeance against a feudal tyrant; and the commercial legend of
our own Whittington might probably be traced to an equally authentic
origin.

Footnote 218:

Ver. 76. _Rectangle_—“A figure which has one angle, or more, of ninety
degrees”. _Johnson’s Dictionary._—It here means a right-angled triangle,
which is therefore incapable of having more than one angle of ninety
degrees, but which may, according to our author’s _Prosopopœia_, be
supposed to be in love with three, or any greater number of nymphs.

Footnote 219:

Ver. 80. _Plato’s and Menecmus’ lore_—Proclus attributes the discovery
of the conic sections to Plato, but obscurely. Eratosthenes seems to
adjudge it to Menecmus. “_Neque Menecmeos necesse erit in cono secare
ternarios._” (Vide _Montucla_.) From Greece they were carried to
Alexandria, where (according to our author’s beautiful fiction)
_Rectangle_ either did or might learn magic.

Footnote 220:

Ver. 86. _Zatanai_—Supposed to be the same with Satan.—Vide the _New
Arabian Nights_, translated by Cazotte, author of “_Le Diable
amoureux_”.

Footnote 221:

Ver. 87. _Gins_—the Eastern name for Genii.—Vide _Tales of ditto_.

Footnote 222:

Ver. 87. _Dom-Daniel_—a submarine palace near Tunis, where Zatanai
usually held his court.—Vide _New Arabian Nights_.

Footnote 223:

Ver. 88. _Sulphur_—A substance which, when cold, reflects the yellow
rays, and is therefore said to be yellow. When raised to a temperature
at which it _attracts oxygene_ (a process usually called _burning_), it
emits a blue flame. This may be beautifully exemplified, and at a
moderate expense, by igniting those _fasciculi_ of brimstone _matches_,
frequently sold (so frequently, indeed, as to form one of the London
cries) by women of an advanced age, in this metropolis. They will be
found to yield an _azure_, or blue light.

Footnote 224:

Ver. 90. _Caf_—the Indian _Caucasus_.—Vide _Bailly’s Lettres sur
l’Atlantide_, in which he proves that this was the native country of Gog
and Magog (now resident in Guildhall), as well as of the Peris, or
fairies, of the Asiatic romances.

Footnote 225:

Ver. 91. _Judæa’s fabled king_—Mr. HIGGINS does not mean to deny that
Solomon was really king of Judæa. The epithet _fabled_ applies to that
empire over the Genii, which the retrospective generosity of the Arabian
fabulists has bestowed upon this monarch.

Footnote 226:

Ver. 96. _Young volcanoes_—The genesis of burning mountains was never,
till lately, well explained. Those with which we are best acquainted are
certainly not viviparous; it is therefore probable, that there exists,
in the centre of the earth, a considerable reservoir of their eggs,
which, during the obstetrical convulsions of general earthquakes,
produce new volcanoes.

Footnote 227:

Ver. 100. _Far-extended heel_—The personification of _Rectangle_,
besides answering a poetical purpose, was necessary to illustrate Mr.
HIGGINS’S philosophical opinions. The ancient mathematicians conceived
that a cone was generated by the revolution of a triangle; but this, as
our author justly observes, would be impossible, without supposing in
the triangle that _expansive nisus_, discovered by Blumenbach, and
improved by Darwin, which is peculiar to animated matter, and which
alone explains the whole mystery of organization. Our enchanter sits on
the ground, with his heels stretched out, his head erect, his wand (or
_hypothenuse_) resting on the extremities of his feet and the tip of his
nose (as is finely expressed in the engraving in the original work), and
revolves upon his bottom with great velocity. His skin, by magical
means, has acquired an indefinite power of expansion, as well as that of
assimilating to itself all the _azote_ of the air, which he decomposes
by expiration from his lungs—an immense quantity, and which, in our
present unimproved and uneconomical mode of breathing, is quite thrown
away. By this simple process the transformation is very naturally
accounted for.

Footnote 228:

Ver. 104. _Phœnician Cone_—It was under this shape that Venus was
worshipped in Phœnicia. Mr. HIGGINS thinks it was the _Venus Urania_, or
Celestial Venus; in allusion to which, the Phœnician grocers first
introduced the practice of preserving sugar-loaves in blue or
sky-coloured paper—he also believes that the _conical_ form of the
original grenadier’s cap was typical of the loves of Mars and Venus.

Footnote 229:

Ver. 107. _Parabola_—The curve described by projectiles of all sorts, as
bombs, shuttlecocks, &c.

Footnote 230:

Ver. 115. Hyperbola—Not figuratively speaking, as in rhetoric, but
mathematically; and therefore blue-eyed.

Footnote 231:

Ver. 122. _Asymptotes_—“Lines, which though they may approach still
nearer together till they are nearer than the least assignable distance,
yet being still produced infinitely, will never meet”.—_Johnson’s
Dictionary._

Footnote 232:

Ver. 124. _Ellipsis_—A curve, the revolution of which on its axis
produces an ellipsoid, or solid resembling the eggs of birds,
particularly those of the gallinaceous tribe. _Ellipsis_ is the only
curve that embraces the cone.

Footnote 233:

[“Romantic Ashbourn.” The road down Ashbourn Hill winds in front of
Ashbourn Hall, then the residence of the Rev. Mr. Leigh, who married a
relation of CANNING’S, and to whom the latter was a frequent visitor. A
clever parodical application of this couplet was made by O’CONNELL to
LORD STANLEY’S section of a party of six, who wished to hold the balance
of power, during PEEL’S short administration in 1835. He altered it to
“The Derby Dilly,” carrying _six_ insides.—See the Greville Memoirs,
vol. 3, pp. 236, &c.—ED.]

Footnote 234:

[Thus sings Dr. Darwin of the Loves of the Plants:

           “_Two_ brother swains, of Collins’ gentle name,
           The same their features, and their forms the same,
           With rival love for fair Collinia sigh,
           Knit the dark brow, and roll the unsteady eye.
           With sweet concern the pitying beauty mourns,
           And soothes with smiles the jealous pair by turns.

           “Woo’d with long care, Curcuma, cold and shy,
           Meets her fond husband with averted eye.
           _Four_ beardless youths the obdurate beauty move
           With soft attentions of Platonic love.”—ED.]

Footnote 235:

[BRISSOT was one of the first movers in the outbreak of the French
Revolution, and with twenty other Girondists suffered death under the
guillotine, October 30, 1793. He was one of the most virtuous as well as
most accomplished _littérateurs_ of the time.—ED.]

Footnote 236:

Such was the end of these worthies. They were found starved to death in
a cave in Languedoc. Vide _Barrère’s Rep._

[CHARLES BARBAROUX was one of the most distinguished and energetic of
the Girondists. As he opposed the party of Marat and Robespierre, he
was, in 1793, proscribed as a Royalist and an enemy of the Republic. He
wandered about the country, hiding himself as he best could for thirteen
months, when he was taken, and perished by the guillotine, June 25,
1794.—ED.]

[JÉROME PÉTION DE VILLENEUVE was a prominent member of the Jacobin Club,
and a great ally of Robespierre. Being elected MAIRE DE PARIS in
Bailly’s stead, he encouraged the demonstrations of the lowest classes,
and the arming of the populace. He then joined the Girondists. On their
defeat by the army of the Convention, he fled in July, 1793, into
Bretagne. A short time after the corpses of himself and Buzot were found
in a corn-field near St. Emilion, partly devoured by wolves. They were
supposed to have died by their own hands. He was extremely virtuous in
all his domestic relations; but his public career shows him to have been
weak, shallow, ostentatious, and vain.—ED.]

Footnote 237:

See LOUVET’s _Récit de mes Périls_.

Footnote 238:

This philosophic coxcomb is the idol of those who admire the French
Revolution _up to a certain point_.

Footnote 239:

This little anecdote is not generally known.—It is strikingly
pathetic.—GARAT has recorded this circumstance in a very eloquent
sentence—“O toi, qui arrêtas la main avec laquelle tu traçais le progrès
de l’esprit humain, pour porter sur tes lèvres le breuvage mortel,
d’autres pensées et d’autres sentimens out incliné ta volonté vers le
tombeau, dans ta dernière délibération.—(GARAT, it seems, did not choose
to poison _himself_.)—Tu as rendu à la liberté éternelle ton âme
Républicaine par ce poison qui avait été partagé entre nous comme le
pain entre des frères.”

“Oh you, who stayed the hand with which you were tracing the progress of
the human mind, to carry the mortal mixture to your lips—it was by other
thoughts and other sentiments that your judgment was at length
determined in that last deliberated act. You restored your republican
spirit to an eternal freedom, by that poison which we had shared
together, like a morsel of bread between two brothers.”

Footnote 240:

_Isosceles_—An equi-crural triangle—It is represented as a _Giant_,
because Mr. HIGGINS says he has observed that procerity is much promoted
by the equal length of the legs, more especially when they are long
legs.

Footnote 241:

_Mathesis_—The doctrine of mathematics—Pope calls her _mad
Mathesis_.—Vide _Johnson’s Dictionary_.

Footnote 242:

_Hallucinating_—The disorder with which Mathesis is affected is a
disease of _increased volition_, called _erotomania_, or _sentimental
love_. It is the fourth species of the second genus of the first order
and third class; in consequence of which, Mr. Hackman shot Miss Reay in
the lobby of the playhouse.—Vide _Zoonomia_, vol. ii., pp. 363, 365.

Footnote 243:

_Galvanic fires_—Dr. Galvani is a celebrated philosopher at Turin. He
has proved that the electric fluid is the proximate cause of nervous
sensibility; and Mr. HIGGINS is of opinion that by means of this
discovery, the sphere of our disagreeable sensations may be, in future,
considerably enlarged. “Since dead frogs (says he) are awakened by this
fluid to such a degree of posthumous sensibility as to jump out of the
glass in which they are placed, why not men, who are sometimes so much
more sensible when alive? And if so, why not employ this new stimulus to
deter mankind from dying (which they so pertinaciously continue to do)
of various old-fashioned diseases, notwithstanding all the brilliant
discoveries of modern philosophy, and the example of Count Cagliostro?”

Footnote 244:

_Internal Angles_, _&c._—This is an exact versification of Euclid’s
fifth theorem.—Vide _Euclid in loco_.

Footnote 245:

_Asses-Bridge_—Pons Asinorum—The name usually given to the
before-mentioned theorem—though, as Mr. Higgins thinks, absurdly. He
says, that having frequently watched companies of asses during their
passage of a bridge, he never discovered in them any symptoms of
geometrical instinct upon the occasion. But he thinks that with Spanish
asses, which are much larger (vide _Townsend’s Travels through Spain_),
the case may possibly be different.

Footnote 246:

_Fare_—A person, or a number of persons, conveyed in a hired vehicle by
land or water.

Footnote 247:

_Badged boatman_—Boatmen sometimes wear a _badge_, to distinguish them,
especially those who belong to the Watermen’s Company.

Footnote 248:

_Alp_, or _Alps_—A ridge of mountains which separate the North of Italy
from the South of Germany. They are evidently primeval and volcanic,
consisting of granite, toadstone, and basalt, and several other
substances, containing animal and vegetable recrements, and affording
numberless undoubted proofs of the infinite antiquity of the earth, and
of the consequent falsehood of the Mosaic chronology.

Footnote 249:

_Turn the stiff screw_, &c.—The harmony and imagery of these lines are
imperfectly imitated from the following exquisite passage in the
_Economy of Vegetation_:

           “Gnomes, as you now dissect, with hammers fine,
           The granite rock, the noduled flint calcine;
           Grind with strong arm the circling Chertz betwixt,
           Your pure Ka—o—lins and Pe—tunt—ses mixt.”

                                                   _Canto_ ii. line 297.

Footnote 250:

[_The windmill_, &c.—This line affords a striking instance of the sound
conveying an echo to the sense. I would defy the most unfeeling reader
to repeat it over without accompanying it by some corresponding gesture
imitative of the action described.—EDITOR.]

Footnote 251:

_Sweet Enthusiast_, &c.—A term usually applied in allegoric or technical
poetry to any person or object to which no other qualifications can be
assigned.—_Chambers’s Dictionary._

Footnote 252:

[ANNE PLUMPTRE, who made herself known as one of the first introducers
of German plays, said: “_People are talking about an Invasion. I am not
afraid of an Invasion; I believe the country would be all the happier
if_ BUONAPARTE _were to effect a landing and overturn the Government. He
would destroy the Church and the Aristocracy, and his government would
be better than the one we have_”. Crabb Robinson’s _Diary_ (1810), i.
298.—ED.]

Footnote 253:

_The smiling infant_—Infancy is particularly interested in the diffusion
of the new principles. See the “Bloody Buoy”. See also the following
description and prediction:

       “Here Time’s huge fingers grasp his giant mace,
       And dash proud Superstition from her base;
       Rend her strong towers and gorgeous fanes, &c.

              ·       ·       ·       ·       ·

       While each light moment, as it passes by,
       With feathery foot and pleasure-twinkling eye,
       Feeds from its baby-hand with many a kiss
       The callow-nestlings of domestic bliss.”—_Botanic Garden._

Footnote 254:

_The monster’s back_—Le Monstre Pitt, l’ennemi du genre humain. _See
Debates of the legislators of the Great Nation, passim._

Footnote 255:

Atque illud prono præceps agitur decursus.—_Catullus._

Footnote 256:

STONE.—Better known by the name of WILLIAMS.

Footnote 257:

We decline printing this rhyme at length, from obvious reasons of
delicacy; at the same time that it is so accurate a translation of
_pictis puppibus_, that we know not how to suppress it, without doing
the utmost injustice to the general spirit of the poem.

Footnote 258:

[Jean Bon St. André, deputy to the Convention for the Department of Lot,
during the reign of Terror, rivalled Marat and Robespierre in cruelty.
Having been appointed to remodel the Republican Navy, he was present at
the action of June 1, 1794, in which he shewed excessive cowardice. He
was afterwards Consul at Smyrna, where he was arrested by the Turks, but
released on the peace. Napoleon subsequently commissioned him to
organise the four departments of the Rhine, in which he succeeded. He
was created a Baron, a Chevalier of the Legion of Honour and Prefect of
Maure. He died in 1813 of a contagious malady caught while performing
charitable offices for the sick!—ED.]

Footnote 259:

Henry VI. crowned at Paris.

Footnote 260:

The Black Prince.

Footnote 261:

The Spanish Armada.

Footnote 262:

Oliver Cromwell.

Footnote 263:

Louis XIV.

Footnote 264:

William III.

Footnote 265:

Blenheim, Ramilies, &c., &c.

Footnote 266:

American War.

Footnote 267:

Lord Heathfield.

Footnote 268:

[Parodied from Pope’s Prologue to _Cato_.—ED.]

Footnote 269:

See _The Robbers_, a German tragedy [by SCHILLER], in which robbery is
put in so fascinating a light, that the whole of a German University
went upon the highway in consequence of it.

Footnote 270:

See _Cabal and Love_, a German tragedy [by SCHILLER], very severe
against prime ministers and reigning Dukes of Brunswick. This admirable
performance very judiciously reprobates the hire of German troops for
the _American_ war in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, a practice which
would undoubtedly have been highly discreditable to that wise and
patriotic princess, not to say wholly unnecessary—there being no
American war at that particular time.

Footnote 271:

See _The Stranger; or, Reformed Housekeeper_, in which the former of
these morals is beautifully illustrated; and _Stella_, a genteel German
comedy [by GOETHE], which ends with placing a man _bodkin_ between _two
wives_, like _Thames_ between his _two banks_ in _The Critic_. Nothing
can be more edifying than these two dramas. I am shocked to hear that
there are some people who think them ridiculous.

Footnote 272:

These are the warnings very properly given to readers, to beware how
they judge of what they cannot understand. Thus if the translation runs,
“_lightning of my soul, fulgation of angels, sulphur of hell_,” we
should recollect that this is not coarse or strange in the German
language when applied by a lover to his mistress; but the English has
nothing precisely parallel to the original Mulychause Archangelichen,
which means rather _emanation of the archangelic nature_—or to
Smellmynkern Vankelfer, which, if literally rendered, would signify
_made of stuff of the same odour whereof the devil makes flambeaux_. See
Schüttenbrüch on the German idiom.

Footnote 273:

A manifest error, since it appears from the Waiter’s conversation (p.
211) that Rogero was not doomed to starve on water-gruel, but on
pease-soup, which is a much better thing. Possibly the length of
Rogero’s imprisonment had impaired his memory; or he might wish to make
things appear worse than they really were; which is very natural, I
think, in such a case as this poor unfortunate gentleman’s.—_Printer’s
Devil._

Footnote 274:

Vide _The Stranger_.

Footnote 275:

_Lovers’ Vows._

Footnote 276:

This is an excellent joke in German; the point and spirit of which
is but ill-_Rendered_ in a translation. A NODDY, the reader will
observe, has two significations, the one a _knave at All-fours_, the
other a _fool_ or _booby_. See the translation by Mr. Render of
_Count Benyowsky, or the Conspiracy of Kamschatka_, a German
Tragi-Comi-Comi-Tragedy, where the play opens with a scene of a game
at chess (from which the whole of this scene is copied), and a joke
of the same point, and merriment about pawns, _i.e._, boors being a
_match_ for kings.

Footnote 277:

This word in the original is strictly _fellow-lodgers_—“_Co-occupants of
the same room, in a house let out at a small rent by the week_”. There
is no single word in English which expresses so complicated a relation,
except perhaps the cant term of _chum_, formerly in use in our
Universities.

Footnote 278:

[The above song is a parody on that pathetic one—given below—written by
Sheridan, and introduced into Kotzebue’s drama of _The Stranger_, to be
overheard by the latter. It was sung by Mrs. Bland—as Annetta—to a
melody by the Duchess of Devonshire, in a manner, it is said, that
thrilled every heart.

                “I have a silent sorrow here,
                  A grief I’ll ne’er impart;
                It breathes no sigh, it sheds no tear,
                  But it consumes my heart.
                This cherish’d woe, this lov’d despair,
                  My lot for ever be;
                So my soul’s lord, the pangs I bear
                  Be never known by thee!

                “And when pale characters of death
                  Shall mark this alter’d cheek;
                When my poor wasted trembling breath
                  My life’s last hope would speak;
                I shall not raise my eyes to heaven,
                  Nor mercy ask for me,
                My soul despairs to be forgiv’n,
                  Unpardon’d, love, by thee!”—ED.]

Footnote 279:

See _Count Benyowsky_; where Crustiew, an old gentleman of much
sagacity, talks the following nonsense:

Crustiew [_with youthful energy, and an air of secrecy and confidence_].
“To fly, to fly, to the isles of Marian—the island of Tinian—a
terrestrial paradise. Free—free—a mild climate—a new-created
sun—wholesome fruits—harmless inhabitants—and liberty—tranquillity.”

Footnote 280:

See _Count Benyowsky_, as before.

Footnote 281:

See _Count Benyowsky_.

Footnote 282:

See _Count Benyowsky_ again; from which play this and the preceding
references are taken word for word. We acquit the Germans of such
reprobate silly stuff. It must be the translator’s.

Footnote 283:

We believe this song to be copied, with a small variation in metre and
meaning, from a song in _Count Benyowsky; or, the Conspiracy of
Kamschatka_, where the conspirators join in a chorus, _for fear of being
overheard_.

[Footnote:

              AD SIRMIONEM PENINSULAM.

  [284]Peninsularum Sirmio, Insularumque,
  Ocelle! quascunque in liquentibus stagnis,
  Marique vasto fert uterque Neptunus;
  [285]Quam te libenter, quamque lætus inviso,
  Vix mi ipse credens Thyniam, atque Bithynos
  Liquisse campos,[286] et videre te in tuto.
  [287]O quid solutis est beatius curis
  Cum mens onus reponit, ac peregrino
  Labore fessi venimus larem ad nostrum.
  [288]Desideratoque acquiescimus lecto?
  Hoc est, quod unum est pro laboribus tantis.
  [289]Salve! O venusta Sirmio! atque hero gaude;
  Gaudete! vosque Lydiæ lacus undæ;
  Ridete[290] quicquid est domi cachinnorum!

®

Footnote 291:

[The following _Letter_ probably alludes to the _Association for
promoting the Discovery of the interior parts of Africa_, of which Sir
John Sinclair was the presiding genius. “The result of their labours,”
says Hugh Murray, in his Account of African Discoveries, “has thrown new
lustre on the British name, and widely extended the boundaries of human
knowledge.”—ED.]

Footnote 292:

[Buonaparte’s Bulletin.—ED.]

Footnote 293:

[SIR JOHN SINCLAIR, the celebrated author of the _History of the Public
Revenue, the Statistical Account of Scotland_, and many useful
agricultural and other works.—ED.]

Footnote 294:

[Dr. Parr’s noted Latin Preface to his edition of _Bellendenus de
Statu_. T. De Quincey, in his famous dissection of Dr. Parr and his
writings, beseeches the “gentle reader” of Bellendenus to pronounce the
penultimate syllable _short_, and _not long_, as is usually done.—ED.]

Footnote 295:

[_I.e._, from BOB ADAIR, _a dull fool_, to NICHOLL [Nicholls], _a
wretched goose_.—ED.]

Footnote 296:

[Sir Geo. Aug. Wm. Shuckburgh, M.P., F.R.S., author of papers in the
Phil. Trans.—ED.]

Footnote 297:

[Sir John Sinclair.—ED.]

Footnote 298:

[The following are Dr. Darwin’s instructions for the _transportation of
Ice Islands_:—

          “There, Nymphs! alight, array your dazzling powers,
          With sudden march alarm the torpid hours;
          On ice-built isles expand a thousand sails,
          Hinge the strong helms, and catch the frozen gales.
          The winged rocks to feverish climates guide,
          Where fainting zephyrs pant upon the tide;
          Pass, where to Ceuta Calpé’s thunder roars,
          And answering echoes shake the kindred shores;
          Pass, where with palmy plumes, Canary smiles,
          And in her silver girdle binds her isles;
          Onward, where Niger’s dusky Naiad laves
          A thousand kingdoms with prolific waves,
          Or leads o’er golden sands her threefold train
          In steamy channels to the fervid main;
          While swarthy nations crowd the sultry coast,
          Drink the fresh breeze, and hail the floating frost:
          Nymphs! veil’d in mist, the melting treasure steer,
          And cool with arctic snows the tropic year.”

“If the nations who inhabit this hemisphere of the globe, instead of
destroying their seamen and exhausting their wealth in unnecessary wars,
could be induced to unite their labours to navigate these immense masses
of ice into the more southern oceans, two great advantages would result
to mankind, the tropic countries would be much cooled by their solution,
and our winters in this altitude would be rendered much milder, for
perhaps a century or two, till the masses of ice became again
enormous.”—ED.]

                  *       *       *       *       *

[DR. THOMAS BEDDOES, born at Shiffnal in 1760, was a scientific
Physician far in advance of his age; his _Popular Essay on Consumption_,
1779, his tracts entitled _Hygeia_, 1801, &c., may still be studied with
profit. He paid particular attention to the medical use of the
permanently Elastic Fluids, and avows that as “one rash experiment on a
patient would demolish a plan on which the hope of relieving mankind
from much of their misery is founded,” he made preliminary experiments
on himself in the case of _Oxygene_ and _Consumption_, as alluded to in
the text, _À propos_ of the artificial distribution of disease, it may
be mentioned that in _The Batchelor_, p. 189, is a method for
“discharging the Plague”.

He wrote much on the political topics of the day, always taking the
liberal side, and attacking PITT with great virulence and eloquence. The
principles of the French Revolution were at first advocated by him with
the utmost enthusiasm, but he was soon disgusted by the excesses
committed. He was a student of German literature, and much admired by
Immanuel Kant. He was also an intimate friend of Darwin’s, whose
political opinions he shared, and whose works were intrusted to his
revision in manuscript. A few months after the publication of Darwin’s
_Botanic Garden_, its magnificent imagery and harmonious versification
inspired some admirers to say that the style of this work was a style
_sui generis_, and that it defied imitation. Dr. Beddoes maintained an
opposite opinion. Much as he admired the poem in question, he thought
that the Darwinian structure of verse might be imitated by a writer
possessed of inferior poetical powers, and in a few days he produced in
the same circle part of the manuscript of _Alexander’s Expedition to the
Indian Ocean_ as an unpublished work of the author of the _Botanic
Garden_. The deception completely succeeded, and some enthusiastic
admirers of the latter work pointed out with triumph “certain passages
as proofs of the position that the author in his happier efforts defied
imitation”. Beddoes’s success was the more extraordinary, as in the
“Introduction” to a considerable extract from his poem which he printed
in the _Annual Anthology_ for 1796, he states that he had never before
written twice as many lines of verse as the composition under notice
consisted of.

As BEDDOES’S imitation of DARWIN is seldom met with, it may not be out
of character in a work of the present nature to give a specimen of it.

                        AN IMITATION OF DARWIN.

          “Now the new Lord of Persia’s wide domain,
          Down fierce Hydaspes seeks the Indian main;
          High on the leading prow the Conqueror stands,
          Eyes purer skies and marks diverging strands.
          A thousand sails attendant catch the wind,
          And yet a thousand press the wave behind;
          Two veteran hosts, outstretched on either hand,
          Wide wave their wings and sweep the trembling land.
          Each serried phalanx Terror stalks beside,
          And shakes o’er crested helms his blazing pride;
          While Victory, still companion of his way,
          Sounds her loud trump and flaunts her banners gay.”

Further on, the Hero’s attention is attracted to the surrounding
landscape, which he thus apostrophizes:—

           “Ye fields for ever fair! Thou mighty stream!
           Bright regions! blessed beyond the muse’s dream!
           Thou fruitful womb of ever-teeming earth!
           Ye fostering skies that rear each beauteous birth!
           Trees, that aloft uprear your stately height,
           Whose sombrous branches shed a noontide night!
           Groves, that for ever wear the smile of spring!
           Gay birds that wave the many-tinted wing!
           Of reptiles, fishes, brutes, stupendous forms!
           And ye, of nameless insects glittering swarms!
           Sons of soft toil, whose shuttle beauty throws,
           Whose tints the Graces’ earnest hands dispose,
           Whose guileless bosom Care avoid and Crime,
           Gay as your groves, and cloudless as your clime!
           Primæval piles, that rose in massive pride,
           Ere Western Art her first faint efforts tried!
           Ye Brachmans old, whom purer æras bore,
           Ere Western Science lisped her infant lore!
           How will your wonders flush the Athenian sage?
           How ray with glory my historic page?”

In a letter to Hannah More, Horace Walpole says: “The poetry is most
admirable; the similes beautiful, fine, and sometimes sublime; the
author is a great poet, and could raise the passions, and possesses all
the requisites of the art.” In another lively epistle to the Misses
Berry (28th April, 1789), he says: “I send you the most delicious poem
upon earth. I can read this Second Part over and over again for ever;
for though it is so excellent, it is impossible to remember anything so
disjointed, except you consider it as a collection of short enchanting
Poems. ‘The Triumph of Flora,’ beginning at the fifty-ninth line, is
most beautifully and enchantingly imagined, and the twelve verses that
by miracle describe and comprehend the creation of the universe out of
chaos, are, in my opinion, the most sublime passage in any author, or in
any of the few languages with which I am acquainted.”—ED.]

[Darwin was acquainted with Rousseau. He was a man of great bodily and
intellectual vigour, irascible and imperious, a strong advocate of
temperance, and for many years an almost total abstainer. His
professional fame was such that George III. said he would take him as
his physician if he would come to London. He formed a botanical garden
at Lichfield, about which Miss Seward wrote some verses which suggested
his _Botanic Garden_. The _Loves of the Plants_ had a singular success,
and was praised in a joint poem by Cowper and Hayley. It was translated
into French, Portuguese, and Italian. Darwin himself is said by
Edgeworth to have admired the parody (_Monthly Magazine_, June and
Sept., 1802, p. 115). Coleridge (_Biographia Literaria_, 1817, p. 19)
speaks of the impression which it made even upon good judges.

In the _Anti-Jacobin Review_, vol. i. (1799), pp. 718–721, appear some
Latin verses [by Ben. Frere] which are thus introduced: “Among the
copies of verses which are annually produced as a public exercise called
TRIPOS, at Cambridge, we have selected the following as a beautiful
composition. The subject is Dr. BEDDOES’S _Factitious Air applied to the
Case of Consumptions_.”—ED.]

Footnote 299:

[This piece has not hitherto formed a portion of the editions of _The
Poetry_.—ED.]

Footnote 300:

[This spirited song refers to LORD MOIRA’S motion in the Irish House of
Commons, 19th of February, 1798, for an address to the Lord Lieutenant,
complaining of the excesses committed by the government authorities,
civil and military, and recommending that conciliatory measures should
be devised. He took occasion to praise the loyalty of his own tenants at
BALLYNAHINCH; but, unfortunately for him, shortly after, an insurrection
broke out at this very place, and a large number of pikes were found
secreted by the peasantry in his own woods. On June 12, General Nugent
attacked the rebels, 5000 strong, commanded by Munro, near Ballynahinch,
and routed them with great slaughter. This victory quelled the rebellion
in the north.—ED.]

Footnote 301:

[The EARL OF MOIRA was a gallant soldier, an eloquent orator, and a
sagacious as well as honest statesman. Having early in life achieved
much reputation for skill and courage during the American War, and
afterwards in Flanders, he subsequently turned his attention to
politics, particularly those of Ireland, his native country, which drew
on him repeated attacks from the Ministerial press. In 1812 he was
appointed Governor-General of India, and created MARQUIS OF HASTINGS. He
was the patron of THOMAS MOORE on his arrival in London. He died in
1825.—ED.]

Footnote 302:

_Hibernice pro_ French.

Footnote 303:

[A quite literal translation of this poem would be out of the question.
The fact is, the sentiment is superior to the execution. CANNING could
write much better if he chose. He might wish to fabricate an
ultra-patriotic schoolboy, and so wrote like one; but it is certain that
as a schoolboy he has written far better things. Either he wrote in a
hurry, or cooked up a school exercise; the introduction looks like it,
and the Latin Prose is as prosy as the verse is common-place.—A. F. W.]

Footnote 304:

The Isle of Wight.

Footnote 305:

[This valedictory Address, and the portion entitled FOREIGN INTELLIGENCE
which follows the Poem, have never hitherto formed a part of editions of
the Poetry.—ED.]

Footnote 306:

We see with some pleasure, that what we anticipated is beginning to take
effect. A NEW MAGAZINE and REVIEW is already advertised, under the same
Name which We had adopted, and professedly on the same Principles. We
have no knowledge of the undertaking, but from report, which speaks
favourably of it; but We heartily wish this, and every work of a similar
kind, a full and happy success.

Footnote 307:

Published by HÉBERT.

Footnote 308:

Published by MARAT.

Footnote 309:

See the Remarks on the Treaties of _Pilnitz_ and _Pavia_, &c.; on TATE’S
Manifesto; on Neutral Navigation; on the Treatment of Prisoners; on the
Continuation of the War for a Spice Island, &c., &c., &c.

Footnote 310:

See the motto prefixed to _The Baviad_, a satirical poem, by W. Gifford,
Esq., unquestionably the best of its kind since the days of Pope:

                                  Nunc in ovilia
                      Mox in reluctantes dracones.

Footnote 311:

The author of _The Pursuits of Literature_. [Now known to be T. J.
Mathias, editor of various Italian works, and teacher of Italian to the
family of K. George III.—ED.]

Footnote 312:

The Manes of Vercengetorix are supposed to have been very much gratified
by the invasion of Italy and the plunder of the Roman territory. The
defeat of the Burgundians is to be revenged on the modern inhabitants of
Switzerland. But the Swiss were a free people, defending their liberties
against a tyrant. Moreover, they happened to be in alliance with France
at the time. No matter; _Burgundy_ is since become a province of France,
and the French have acquired a property in all the injuries and defeats
which the people of that country may have sustained, together with a
title to revenge and retaliation to be exercised in the present or any
future centuries, as may be found most glorious and convenient.

Footnote 313:

The speech of GENERAL FITZPATRICK, on his motion for an Address of the
House of Commons to the Emperor of Germany, to demand the deliverance of
M. LA FAYETTE from the prison of Olmütz, was one of the most dainty
pieces of oratory that ever drew tears from a crowded gallery, and the
clerks at the table. It was really quite moving to hear the General talk
of religion, conjugal fidelity, and “such branches of learning”. There
were a few who laughed indeed, but that was thought hard-hearted, and
immoral, and irreligious, and God knows what. Crying was the _order of
the day_. Why will not the OPPOSITION try these topics again? LA FAYETTE
indeed (the more’s the pity) is out. But why not a motion for a general
gaol-delivery of all state prisoners throughout Europe? [This was
FITZPATRICK’S master-speech, and extorted the applauses of PITT himself,
who nevertheless resisted its arguments. BURKE said that LA FAYETTE,
“instead of being termed an ‘illustrious exile,’ ought always to be
considered, as he now was, an outcast of society; who, having no talents
to guide or influence the storm which he had laboured to raise, fled
like a dastard from the bloodshed and massacre in which he had involved
so many thousands of unoffending persons and families”.—ED.]

Footnote 314:

“Now all the while did not this stony-hearted CUR shed one
tear.”—_Merchant of Venice._ [JOHN CURWEN—member for the city of
Carlisle, from 1786 till 1812. He was a skilful agriculturist, and his
operations may be said to have given a new character to the business of
farming. He died in 1828, aged 73.—ED.]

Footnote 315:

See page 72, in the note, for a theft more shameless, and an application
of the thing stolen more stupid, than any of those recorded of Irish
story-tellers by Joe Miller.

Footnote 316:

See _Récit de mes Périls_, by LOUVET; _Mémoires d’un Détenu_, by
RIOUFFE, &c. The avidity with which these productions were read, might,
we should hope, be accounted for upon principles of mere curiosity (as
we read the _Newgate Calendar_, and the history of the _Buccaneers_),
not from any interest in favour of a set of wretches infinitely more
detestable than all the robbers and pirates that ever existed.

Footnote 317:

Every lover of modern French literature, and admirer of modern French
characters, must remember the rout which was made about LOUVET’S death
and LODOISKA’S poison. The attempt at self-slaughter, and the process of
the recovery, the arsenic and the castor oil, were served up in daily
messes from the French papers, till the public absolutely sickened.

Footnote 318:

_Faciles Napeæ._

Footnote 319:

See Anthologia, _passim_.

Footnote 320:

Such was the strictness of this minister’s principles, that he
positively refused to go to Court in shoe-buckles. See Dumouriez’s
_Memoirs_.

Footnote 321:

See MADAME ROLAND’S _Memoirs_.—“_Rigide Ministre_,” _Brissot à ses
Commettans_.

Footnote 322:

The “pumple” nosed attorney of Furnival’s Inn.—“Congreve’s _Way of the
World_.” [... When you liv’d with honest _Pumple Nose_, the attorney of
Furnival’s Inn. Act 3, sc. 1.—ED.]

Footnote 323:

These lines contain the Secret History of QUATREMER’S deportation. He
presumed in the Council of Five Hundred to arraign MADAME DE STAEL’S
conduct, and even to hint a doubt of her sex. He was sent to _Guyana_.
The transaction naturally brings to one’s mind the dialogue between
Falstaff and Hostess Quickly in Shakespeare’s Henry IV.

_Fal._ Thou art neither fish nor flesh—a man cannot tell where to have
thee.

_Quick._ Thou art an unjust man for saying so—thou or any man knows
where to have me.

Footnote 324:

For instance, in the course of a political discussion REWBELL observed
to the EX-BISHOP [TALLEYRAND], “_that his understanding was as crooked
as his legs_”—“Vil Emigré, tu n’as pas le sens plus droit que les
pieds”—and therewith threw an ink-stand at him. It whizzed along, as we
have been informed, like the fragment of a rock from the hand of one of
Ossian’s heroes; but the wily apostate shrunk beneath the table, and the
weapon passed over him innocuous, and guiltless of his blood or brains.

Footnote 325:

See Homer’s description of Vulcan. First Iliad.

        Inextinguibilis vero exoriebatur risus beatis numinibus
        Ut viderunt Vulcanum per domos _ministrantem_.

Footnote 326:

_The Men without a God_—one of the new sects. Their religion is intended
to consist in the adoration of a Great Book, in which all the virtuous
actions of the society are to be entered and registered. “In times of
civil commotion they are to come forward to exhort the citizens to
unanimity, and to read them a chapter out of the Great Book. When
oppressed or proscribed, they are to retire to a burying-ground, to wrap
themselves up in their great-coats, and wait the approach of death,” &c.

Footnote 327:

The Reader is at liberty to fill up the blanks according to his own
opinion, and after the chances and changes of the times. It would be
highly unfair to hand down to posterity as followers of _Leviathan_, the
names of men who may, and probably will soon, grow ashamed of their
leader.

Footnote 328:

                  Though the _yeasty_ sea
            Consume and swallow navigation up.    _Macbeth._

[Applied to S. Whitbread, M.P., _the Brewer_.—ED.]

Footnote 329:

_i.e._ Perhaps _a member of the_ WHIG CLUB—a society that has presumed
to monopolize to itself a title to which it never had any claim, but
from the character of those who have now withdrawn themselves from it.
“_Perhaps_” signifies that _even_ the WHIG CLUB _sometimes_ rejects a
candidate whose PRINCIPLES (_risum teneatis_) it affects to disapprove.
[Referring to the secession of the DUKE OF PORTLAND and others from the
Whig Club in consequence of their not approving of all the proceedings
of Fox and his more violent adherents. SHERIDAN met with so much
opposition to his entrance into the Whig Club, that he succeeded in
getting admitted only by stratagem.—ED.]

Footnote 330:

“It is notorious that the _French Directory have newspapers in their
pay_, not only in America, but in _every_ country in Europe. That there
should exist such MERCENARY TRAITORS AS TO RECEIVE THE PAY OF REGICIDES
AND ASSASSINS is still less astonishing than that there should be found
men in the different countries, and _men of rank_, too, so base, so
degenerate, and so _foolish_, as to give encouragement to their
treasonable productions” (p. 57). The author speaks truth; there is at
least _one_ newspaper of this description in _London_, which is
encouraged—to their shame be it spoken!—by _men of rank_, and by members
of the Legislature—_Representans du Peuple Souverain!_—who even degrade
themselves so far as to associate with the profligate miscreants who
compose its inflammatory pages.—REVIEWER.

Footnote 331:

“See BACHE of 11 February, 1795.”

Footnote 332:

The reader will not be surprised to hear that this is the identical
governor who wanted a few thousands of dollars from the French minister,
FAUCHET, and who drew _secretly_ 15,000 dollars out of the Bank of
Pennsylvania!! This man brought a whole litter of _bastards_ home to his
virtuous wife. He is a shameless blackguard, a drunkard, and everything
that can be named that is vile. Such is a _republican governor_; a chief
magistrate of state, who has infinitely greater powers over life and
property than King George has!! And this I have already pointed out on
sundry occasions.

Footnote 333:

[Lord Erskine.—ED.]

Footnote 334:

[T. Moore in his early college days.—ED.]

Footnote 335:

[Francis, fifth Duke of Bedford, see _Ballad_.—ED.]

Footnote 336:

[Capt. Charles Morris.—ED.]


                        ABERDEEN UNIVERSITY PRESS.

------------------------------------------------------------------------




                           TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES


 1. Pg. 17, changed “he was expelled the House of Commons” to “he was
    expelled from the House of Commons”.
 2. Silently corrected typographical errors and variations in spelling.
 3. Archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings retained as printed.
 4. Footnotes were re-indexed using numbers and collected together at the
    end of the last chapter.
 5. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.
 6. Enclosed bold font in =equals=.