The National Register.
London, England, 1818-04-26 00:00:00

,1/4 & • t 4

ArgiL 2t.

REVIEW OF LITERATURE.

The Faik:.Pamily in Paris, Edited ty Therrts Brown
the. lonhger, Authcr of 1.11 e" l'n•apenvy.Post Bag."
21110.

Wito would not deem it " a misery," worthy of place
in Mr. Bewsford's book, if, after• walking the whole
day in muddy streets; and stepping into a garden to
enjoy himself, he were to find it rendered impassable by
the same kind of mud that he had just escaped from ?
And arc nut nr equally to be pitied, who, toiling
through the week among parliamentary debates, plans
of finance, and political discords, seek for a tiitv mo.
meats relaxation amidst the fiowtirs of literature, and
discover to our infinite mortification, that the literacy
garden is so &S teed by this same mud of polities, that
we cannot attempt to, gather a posey for our friends,
without picking our way as cautiously as a Bend-street
telle on a rainy day.s This is exactly the cas•^ with us
new. We bud anticipated, from the title of this book,
a feast of "‘ 'quips and cranks and wanton
wit, that played round its object like the harmless
Lizeing gnat—and satire, not more mischievous than
the arch tricks of Robin Ootelfellow.—We did, indeed,
find some of these, but they only served to garnish the
praises of the Gallic Eagle, and the abuse of Lord Cas-
tlereagh. The work consists of a series of letters,
written Ly different members of the Fudge Family,
from Paris. Phil. Fudge writes to Lord C--gh • Mr.
Bob Fudge is a gourmand, and revels anion• the lux-
uries of Ivy and Ikauvii!iers ;• his lister, Miss Biddy
Fudge, describes the pleasures of Beaujon and the
Opera; and a Mr. Phelim Connor writes red-hot poli-
ties about Buonaparte and the .Holy Alliance. It is
not our intention to meddle with these politics. though.
as we have already said, it is ne easy matter to keep
clear of them. The real author is well known, and
his name is humorously alluded to in the preface,
which will fully account fur all the political violence it
exhibits. There is beyond this troubled sphere so much
space for wit t.nd playfulness that we regret he has not
devoted more of his little volume to these less danger.
ous subjects, which his peculiar powers so well fit hint
to treat of. We shall present our 'readers with some
extracts from Miss Biddy Fudge's correspondence)
which is written with great naivete.

PROM MISS BIDDY FUDGE TO MISS DOROTUT
What a time since I wrote !—l'm I sad. naughty girl—.
Though like a tee-oitini. I'm all in a twirl.
Yet ev'n (as you wittily say) a tee-totem
Between all its twirls gives a letter to note 'ens.
But, Lord, such a place ! and then, Dolly, my dresses,
My gowns, kr divine !—there's no language expresba,
Except just the two words "superhe," ** magnitique,"
'!'he trimmings °film' which I had haute last wevk !
It is cail'd—l fiwget—a k—something which sounded
Like aiicompaer—lit, in truth, I'm confounded
And bother'd my dear, 'twist that troublesome boy's
(Bob's) rookery language, ar.d Madame le Boi's
What with fillets of ruses, and fillets of veal 4 •
Things gond with lace, and things genii with eel,
One's hair and one's cutlets both rh paphoe,
And a thousand more thing I shaline'er have by rote,
J out scarce tell the diff 'rence, at least as to phrase,
Between beef a la i'oehs and curia a la braise—
Hoe, in short, dear I'm trick'd out quite a la Francais,
With my bonnet—so beautiful !—high up and poking.
Like things that are put to keep chinanies from smuaking.
Where shell I begin with the endless delights
Of this Eden of tuilliners, monkies, and sights—
This dear-busy place, where there's nothing transacting
But dressing and dinnering, dancing and acting ?
imprimis, the Operas—mercy. my ears!
Brother Bobby's remark, t'other night, a•as a true one
1. This mast be the music," said he, " of the sprats, •
For curst if each note of it doesn't run through one !"
Pa says (and you know, love. his books to make out
'Twas the Jacob as brought every mischief about)
That this passion for roaring has mine in of late,
Since the rabble all tried for a vokv in the State....
What a frightful idea, one's mind to tierwhelin !
What a chorus, dear Dolly. would soon be let loose of it,
If. when of age, every man of the realm
Had a voice like uld Luis, (l) and.chose to make use of it ;
No—never was knownan this riotous cohere
Such a breach of the peace as their sin,me ng, dear.
So bad too, you'd swear that the God "et' both arts,
Of Music and Physic, had taken a frolic
For setting a loud fit of asthma in parts,
And composing a fine rumbling base to a &clic!
But, the dancing—ok Dolly de ta—.-
There. Usiecd, is a treat that charms all but Papa.
Such lurtuty—such era—Mt ye sylphs of romance!
Fly. Ay to Titania. and ask her if the has
One light-booted avmph in her train, that can dance
Like divine Biggotuni and sweet Fanny Bias !
Fanny Bias, in Flora—dear creature !—you'd swear,
When her delicate feet in the dance twinkle mum',
Tte.t her steps are of light, that her home is the air,
Ant: she only par tomplaisonee touches the ground.
,And when Bigottini in Psyche dishevels
Her. black flowing hair, and by &croons is driven,
Oh ! wno ales nut envy those rude littleslevils.
That hold her, and hug her, and keep her from heaven ?"

The young 1nt1../ meets with an admirer at Beatdon
whom she at first supposes to be the King of I'russia,
itmog, but finds her iniAtale nt a second meeting.
-Tway dirk. whin we got totlie Poulevards to stloll.
Mal in v:iin did I look 'men; the street Macaronis,
When. budemd, arum!: me -last Lore of my sand—
That some angel might take the dear man to
Tonrovi's !
We enteed—and -nicely had non, with an air.
For a gripe a la jaraink re cnll'd to the wAitert,
When. oh Dor.t. ! I saw Men-4.1y hero was there,
(For I knew his white small-clotbes and brown
hather gaiters)
A polio of fair statutes ?rem Greece smiling o'er him,
And lots of red currant juice sparkling before him !

(1) Tile (QM, most celebrated, and most noisy of the singers ai
the i n.r.co upcm