LETTER IV.

FROM PHELIM CONNOR TO

"RETURN!"-no, never, while the with'ring hand
Of bigot power is on that hapless land;
While, for the faith my fathers held to God,
Ev'n in the fields where free those fathers trod,
I am proscribed, and-like the spot left bare
In Israel's halls, to tell the proud and fair
Amidst their mirth, that Slav'ry had been there'-
On all I love, home, parents, friends, I trace
The mournful mark of bondage and disgrace!
No-let them stay, who in their country's pangs
Seo naught but food for factions and harangues;
Who yearly kneel before their masters' doors,
And hawk their wrongs, as beggars do their sores:
Still let your

*

Still hope and suffer, all who can !--but I,
Who durst not hope, and cannot bear, must fly.

But whither?-everywhere the scourge pursues-
Turn where he will, the wretched wand'rer views,
In the bright, broken hopes of all his race,
Countless reflections of th' Oppressor's face.
Everywhere gallant hearts, and spirits true,
Are served up victims to the vile and few;
While E-gl-d, everywhere-the general foe
Of Truth and Freedom, wheresoe'er they glow-
Is first, when tyrants strike, to aid the blow.

Oh, E-gl-d! could such poor revenge atone
For wrongs, that well might claim the deadliest one;
Were it a vengeance, sweet enough to sate
The wretch who flies from thy intolerant hate,
To hear his curses on such barb'rous sway
Echoed, where'er he bends his cheerless way ;-
Could this content him, every lip he meets
Teems for his vengeance with such poisonous
sweets;

Were this his lux'ry, never is thy name
Pronounced, but he doth banquet on thy shame;
Hears maledictions ring from every side
Upon that grasping power, that selfish pride,
Which vaunts its own, and scorns all rights beside;
That low and desp'rate envy, which to blast
A neighbor's blessings, risks the few thou hast ;-

1 "They used to leave a yard square of the wall of the house unplastered, on which they wrote, in large letters, either the fore-mentioned verse of the Psalmist (If I forget thee, O Jerusalem,' &c.) or the words- The memory of the desolation."-Leo of Modena.

I have thought it prudent to omit some parts of Mr. Phelim Connor's letter. He is evidently an intemperate

That monster, Self, too gross to be conceal'd,
Which ever lurks behind thy proffer'd shield ;—
That faithless craft, which, in thy hour of need,
Can court the slave, can swear he shall be freed,
Yet basely spurns him, when thy point is gain'd,
Back to his masters, ready gagg'd and chain'd
Worthy associate of that band of Kings,
That royal, rav'ning flock, whose vampire wings
O'er sleeping Europe treacherously brood,
And fan her into dreams of promised good,

Of hope, of freedom-but to drain her blood!

If thus to hear thee branded be a bliss

That Vengeance loves, there's yet more sweet than

When will the world shake off such yokes? oh, when

Will that redeeming day shine out on men,
That shall behold them rise, erect and free
As Heav'n and Nature meant mankind should be!
When Reason shall no longer blindly bow
To the vile pagod things, that o'er her brow,
Like him of Jaghernaut, drive trampling now;
Nor Conquest dare to desolate God's earth;
Nor drunken Vict'ry, with a NERO's mirth,
Strike her lewd harp amidst a people's groans ;-
But, built on love, the world's exalted thrones
Shall to the virtuous and the wise be given-
Those bright, those sole Legitimates of Heaven!

When will this be ?-or, oh! is it, in truth,
But one of those sweet, day-break dreams of youth,
In which the Soul, as round her morning springs,
"Twixt sleep and waking, sees such dazzling things!
And must the hope, as vain as it is bright,
Be all resign'd?-and are they only right,
Who say this world of thinking souls was made
To be by Kings partition'd, truck'd, and weigh'd
In scales that, ever since the world begun
Have counted millions but as dust to one?

Are they the only wise, who laugh to scorn
The rights, the freedom to which man was born?
Who

Who, proud to kiss each sep'rate rod of pow'r,
Bless, while he reigns, the minion of the hour;
Worship each would-be God, that o'er them moves,
And take the thund'ring of his brass for Jove's!
If this be wisdom, then farewell, my books,
Farewell, ye shrines of old, ye classic brooks,
Which fed my soul with currents, pure and fair,
Of living Truth, that now must stagnate there!—
Instead of themes that touch the lyre with light,
Instead of Greece, and her immortal fight
For Liberty, which once awaked my strings,
Welcome the Grand Conspiracy of Kings,
The High Legitimates, the Holy Band,
Who, bolder ev'n than He of Sparta's land,
Against whole millions, panting to be free,
Would guard the pass of right-line tyranny.
Instead of him, th' Athenian bard, whose blade
Had stood the onset which his pen portray'd,
Welcome

*

LETTER V.

FROM MISS BIDDY FUDGE TO MISS DOROTHY

WHAT a time since wrote!-I'm a sad, naughty

girl

But, Lord, such a place! and then, DOLLY, my dresses,

My gowns, so divine!-there's no language expresses,

Except just the two words "superbe," "magnifique," The trimmings of that which I had home last week! It is call'd-I forget-à la-something which sounded

Like alicampane-but, in truth, I'm confounded And bother'd, my dear, 'twixt that troublesome boy's

(BOB'S) Cookery language, and Madame LE Ror's: What with fillets of roses, and fillets of veal, Things garni with lace, and things garni with eel, One's hair and one's cutlets both en papillote, And a thousand more things I shall ne'er have by rote,

I can scarce tell the diff'rence, at least as to phrase, Between beef à la Psyché and curls à la braise.— But, in short, dear, I'm trick'd out quite à la Française,

With my bonnet-so beautiful!-high up and poking,

Like things that are put to keep chimneys from smoking.

Where shall I begin with the endless delights
Of this Eden of milliners, monkeys, and sights-
This dear busy place, where there's nothing trans-

acting

But dressing and dinnering, dancing and acting? Imprimis, the Opera-mercy, my ears!

Brother BOBBY's remark, t'other night, was a

true one ;

"This must be the music," said he, "of the spears, "For I'm cursed if each note of it doesn't run

through one!"

Pa says (and you know, love, his Book's to make

out

1 The late Lord C. of Ireland had a curious theory about names, he held that every man with three names was a jacobin. His instances in Ireland were numerous :-viz. Archibald Hamilton Rowan, Theobald Wolfe Tone, James Napper Tandy, John Philpot Curran, &c., &c.; and in England he produced as examples Charles James Fox, Richard Brinsley Sheridan, John Horne Tooke, Francis Burdett Jones, &c., &c.

The Romans called a thief "homo trium literarum.'

Had a voice like old Laïs, and chose to maké use of it!

Tum' trium literarum homo
Me vituperas? Fur.a

PLAUTUS, Aulular. Act. ii. Scene 4.

2 The oldest, most celebrated, and most noisy of the singers at the French Opera.

* Dissaldeus supposes this word to be a glossema:—that is, he thinks "Fur" has made his escape from the margin into de text.

No-never was known in this riotous sphere
Such a breach of the peace as their singing, my dear
So bad, too, you'd swear that the God of both arts,
Of Music and Physic, had taken a frolic
For setting a loud fit of asthma in parts,

And composing a fine rumbling bass to a cholic!

But, the dancing—ah! parlez-moi, DOLLY, de ça― There, indeed, is a treat that charms all but Papa. Such beauty-such grace-oh ye sylphs of ro

mance!

Fly, fly to TITANIA, and ask her if she has

Here DANIEL, in pantomime, bids bold defiance
To NEBUCHADNEZZAR and all his stuff'd lions,
While pretty young Israelites dance round the
Prophet,

In very thin clothing, and but little of it ;-
Here BÉGRAND, who shines in this scriptural path,
As the lovely SUZANNA, without ev'n a relic
Of drapery round her, comes out of the bath

In a manner that, Boв says, is quite Eve-angelic! But in short, dear, 'twould take me a month to recite All the exquisite places we're at, day and night; And, besides, ere I finish, I think you'll be glad Just to hear one delightful adventure I've had.

That her steps are of light, that her home is the air, And she only par complaisance touches the ground.

And when BIGOTTINI in PSYCHÉ dishevels

Her black flowing hair, and by dæmons is driven, Oh! who does not envy those rude little devils,

That hold her and hug her, and keep her from heaven?

Then, the music-so softly its cadences die,
So divinely-oh, DOLLY! between you and I,
It's as well for my peace that there's nobody nigh

To make love to me then-you've a soul, and can judge

From a lighted pavilion, high up in the air, And rattle you down, DOLL-you hardly know where.

These vehicles, mind me, in which you go through This delightfully dangerous journey, hold two. Some cavalier asks, with humility, whether

You'll venture down with him—you smile—'tis a match;

In an instant you're seated, and down both together Go thund'ring, as if you went post to old scratch! Well, it was but last night, as I stood and remark'd On the looks and odd ways of the girls who em. bark'd,

1 The Théâtre de la Porte St.-Martin, which was built when the Opera House in the Palais Royal was burnt down, in 1781-A few days after this dreadful fire, which lasted more than a week, and in which several persons perished, the Parisian élégantes displayed flame-colored dresses, "couleur de feu d'Opéra !"-Dulaure, Curiosités de Paris.

"The old Testament," says the theatrical Critic in the Gazette de France, "is a mine of gold for the managers of our small play-houses. A multitude crowd round the Théâtre de la Gaieté every evening to see the Passage of the Red Sea." In the play-bill of one of these sacred melo-drames at Vienna, we find "The Voice of G-d, by M. Schwartz."

A piece very popular last year, called "Daniel, ou La Fosse aux Lions." The following scene will give an idea of

The dear Corsair expression, half savage, half

soft,

As hyænas in love may be fancied to look, or
A something between ABELARD and old BLUCHER!
Up he came, DOLL, to me, and, uncov'ring his
head,

(Rather bald, but so warlike!) in bad English said,

the daring sublimity of these Scriptural pantomimes. "Scène 20.-La fournaise devient un berceau de nuages azurés, au fond duquel est un groupe de nuages plus lumineux, et au milieu Jehovah' au centre d'un cercle de rayons brillans, qui annonce la présence de l'E'ternel."

4 Madame Begrand, a finely-formed woman, who acts in "Susanna and the Elders,"-"L'Amour et la Folie," &c., &c.

The Promenades Aériennes, or French MountainsSee a description of this singular and fantastic place of amusement in a pamphlet, truly worthy of it, by "F. F. Cotterel, Médecin, Docteur de la Faculté de Paris," &c., &c. According to Dr. Cotterel the cars go at the rate of fortyeight miles an hour.

good

Just for von littel course"-though I scarce under

stood

What he wish'd me to do, I said, thank him, I would. Off we set-and, though faith, dear, I hardly knew whether

My head or my heels were the uppermost then, For 'twas like heav'n and earth, DOLLY, coming together,

Yet, spite of the danger, we dared it again. And oh as I gazed on the features and air

Of the man, who for me all this peril defied, I could fancy almost he and I were a pair

Of unhappy young lovers, who thus, side by side, Were taking, instead of rope, pistol, or dagger, a Desperate dash down the falls of Niagara!

YOURS of the 12th received just nowThanks for the hint, my trusty brother! 'Tis truly pleasing to see how

We, FUDGES, stand by one another. But never fear-I know my chap, And he knows me too-verbum sap. My Lord and I are kindred spirits, Like in our ways as two young ferrets; Both fashion'd, as that supple race is, To twist into all sorts of places ;Creatures lengthy, lean, and hungering, Fond of blood and burrow-mongering.

As to my Book in 91,

Call'd "Down with Kings, or, Who'd have thought it?"

Bless you, the Book's long dead and gone,—

Not ev'n th' Attorney-General bought it.
And, though some few seditious tricks
I play'd in 95 and 6,

As you remind me in your letter,

His Lordship likes me all the better ;-
We proselytes, that come with news full,
Are, as he says, so vastly useful!

ane main bien noire, fera davantage ressortir l'albâtre des bras arrondis de celles-ci."-p. 22.

2 His Majesty, who was at Paris under the travelling name of Count Ruppin, is known to have gone down the Beaujon very frequently.

REYNOLDS and I-(you know ToM REYNOLDS
Drinks his claret, keeps his chaise-
Lucky the dog that first unkennels
Traitors and Luddites now-a-days;
Or who can help to bag a few,

When S-D-TH wants a death or two ;)
REYNOLDS and I, and some few more,

All men, like us, of information,
Friends, whom his Lordship keeps in store,
As under-saviours of the nation'-
Have form'd a Club this season, where
His Lordship sometimes takes the chair,
And gives us many a bright oration
In praise of our sublime vocation;
Tracing it up to great King MIDAS,
Who, though in fable typified as
A royal Ass, by grace divine
And right of ears, most asinine,
Was yet no more, in fact historical,
Than an exceeding well-bred tyrant ;
And these, his ears, but allegorical,

Meaning Informers, kept at high rent?— Gem'men, who touch'd the Treasury glist'ners, Like us, for being trusty list'ners; And picking up each tale and fragment, For royal MIDAS's Green Bag meant. "And wherefore," said this best of Peers, "Should not the R-G-T too have ears, "To reach as far, as long and wide as "Those of his model, good King MIDAS?" This speech was thought extremely good, And (rare for him) was understoodInstant we drank "The R-G-T's Ears," With three times three illustrious cheers,

Which made the room resound like thunder"The R-G-T's Ears, and may he ne'er "From foolish shame, like MIDAS, wear

"Old paltry wigs to keep them under !" This touch at our old friends, the Whigs, Made us as merry all as grigs.

In short, (I'll thank you not to mention

These things again,) we get on gayly; And, thanks to pension and Suspension, Our little Club increases daily.

1 Lord C.'s tribute to the character of his friend, Mr. Reynolds, will long be remembered with equal credit to both.

2 This interpretation of the fable of Midas's ears seems the most probable of any, and is thus stated in Hoffmann:"Hâc allegoriâ significatum, Midam, utpote tyrannum, subauscultatores dimittere solitum, per quos, quæcunque per omnem regionem vel fierent, vel dicerentur, cognosceret, nimirum illis utens aurium vice."

3 Brossette, in a note on this line of Boileau,

"Midas, le Roi Midas, a des ore lles d'Ane," tells us, that "M. Perrault le Médecin voulut faire à notre auteur un crime d'état de ce vers, comme d'une maligne allusion au Roi." I trust, however, that no one will suspect the line in the text of any such indecorous allusion.

CASTLES, and OLIVER, and such,
Who don't as yet full salary touch,
Nor keep their chaise and pair, nor buy
Houses and lands, like Tom and I,
Of course don't rank with us, salvators,"
But merely serve the Club as waiters.
Like Knights, too, we've our collar days,
(For us, I own, an awkward phrase,)
When, in our new costume adorn'd,—
The R-G-T's buff-and-blue coats turn'd-
We have the honor to give dinners

To the chief Rats in upper stations;
Your W- -YS, V- -NS,-half-fledged sin

ners,

Who shame us by their imitations;
Who turn, 'tis true-but what of that?
Give me the useful peaching Rat;

Not things as mute as Punch, when ught,
Whose wooden heads are all they've brought;
Who, false enough to shirk their friends,
But too faint-hearted to betray,
Are, after all their twists and bends,
But souls in Limbo, damn'd half way.
No, no, we nobler vermin are
A genus useful as we're rare;
'Midst all the things miraculous

Of which your natural histories brag,
The rarest must be Rats like us,

Who let the cat out of the bag.
Yet still these Tyros in the cause
Deserve, I own, no small applause ;
And they're by us received and treated
With all due honors-only seated
In th' inverse scale of their reward,
The merely promised next my Lord;
Small pensions then, and so on, down,

Rat after rat, they graduate
Through job, red ribbon, and silk gown,

To Chanc'llorship and Marquisate.
This serves to nurse the ratting spirit;
The less the bribe the more the merit.

Our music's good, you may be sure;
My Lord, you know, 's an amateur-

4 It was not under wigs, but tiaras, that King Midas endeavored to conceal these appendages:

Tempora purpureis tentat velare tiaris.-OVID. The Noble Giver of the toast, however, had evidently, with his usual clearness, confounded King Midas, Mr. Liston, and the Pe R-g-t together.

Mr. Fudge and his friends ought i go by this nameas the man, who, some years since, saved the late Right Hon. George Rose from drowning, was ever after called Salvator Rosa.

This intimacy between the Rats and Informers is just as it should be-" verè dulce sodalitium."

7 His Lordship, during one of the busiest periods of his