The Sun.
London, England, 1828-10-22 00:00:00

FACTS.-FOR THE MEN OF KENT.

Kensington, Oct. 21, 1828.
GENTLEMEN—Great efforts will be made, at the
approaching County Meeting, to make you think
about any thing and every thing, except the things
in which you are really interested. You will be
amused (if you will sutler it) by a great deal of de-
clamation about "civil and religious liberty." Others
will entertain you with the " dangers of Popery,"
and will endeavour to make you so hot, (especially
if the day be warm) as to cause you to.imagine that
you are in Smi!Veld, and have the faggots actually
blazing around you. One side will cry out " our
Holy Religion ;" and the other will deprecate
" bigotry," and will talk 90 tenderly about " our
brethren;' the Catholics ! But none of them will
say a word to you about the following facts, which
are to form the basis of the Petition which I shall
have the honour to present for your apprOval. They
will none of them tell you these things, namely--
That all the temporal possessions of the Church, whether
tithes, glebes, college lands, abbey lands, cathedral
lands, and all such possessions of every description,
were founded on the basis of CHARITY, and were
granted not to the Clergy and the Bishops for their
own use, but IN TRUST for the good of the Nation
at large, and especially for the relief of the poor, the
widow, the orphan, and the stranger.
That there were no poor-rates, no church- rates, and
no paupers in England, until the present Church was
established ; and that the poor were relieved, and the
churches built and repaired, out of the tithes and
other revenues of the Church.
That, by degrees this sacred trust has ceased to operate,
and the tithes and the rest of the revenues of the
Church, have been taken possession of for the sole use
of the Clergy themselves and their families; while the
burthen of relieving the poor and of building and re-
pairing the churches has teen thrown upon the people ;
and that the share of this burthen borne by the County
of Kent, at the date of the last Return, was, annually,
418,281 pounds sterling on an average of years.
That there are four hundred and twenty-seven Parishes
in the County of Kent.
That these are all in the hands of less than two hundred
Rectors and Vicars, many of whom have Prebendaries,
and other benefices in addition.
That there are eighty-seven of these Parishes, which have
Parsonage Houses, that our Gentlemen Parsons tell the
Parliament are not good enough for them to live in.
That there are seventy-five other Parishes which have
no Parsonage Rouses at all, though the Clergy are
bound by law to keep up all Parsonage Houses, and
to keep them in repair ; and though the Bishop of the
Diocese is bound by taw to see that these houses are
not dilapidated.
That there are THIRTEEN PARISHES in this garden
County of Kent, which have NO CHURCHES AT ALL,
but in which the Tithes are, as elsewhere, exacted even
to the last blade of grass. •
That there are 44 Parishes in the County, each having
less than one hundred inhabitants, none of whom
hardly ever see the face of a Parson, and yet, who have
tithes exacted from them to the utmost rigour ; and
that, while this is the state of the County, that County
is taxed for the building of New Churches, which are
intended to add to the emoluments of this same Clergy.
That, bad as all this is, one might almost call it good
when compared to the situation of Ireland, which
contains 3,403 Parishes.
That these have been Moulded into 515 livings and that
these have been given to about 850 Rectors and
Vicars ; and, of course, each Parson has the Tithes
and Glebes of more than NINE PARISHES.
That, of the 3,403 Parishes, there are only 139 which
have Parsonage Houses, and that, consequently, there
is but one Parsonage House to .every 24 Parishes.

That in the 3,403 Parishes, there are only 465 Churches,
so that there. is but one Church to every seven
Parishes.
That there is net more than one Churchman to every
six Catholics or Dissenters throughout Ireland, and
that in some Parishes there are no Church-people
at all.
That the Catholics and Dissenters build and repair their
own Chapels, and support their own Ministers, but
are compelled to pay tithes and church rates too, even
where there are no Churches in existence.
That the Tithes are collected in the most rigorous
manner by men called Tithe Proctors, who go
• armed on the business, and have frequently troops to
assist them.
That the poor creatures are sometimes stripped of every-
thing they have in the world, and the air is made to
ring with their cries of misery ; and sometimes,
thirsting for revenge, they break out into acts of
violence and blood, and the gaol and the gallows are
called in to tinish the dispute between them and their
_pastors.

That this is the great and efficient cause of all the
troubles of Ireland, where no poor rates were ever
established, sad where the people are, therefore, left,
in hundreds of thousands of cases, to perish from
hunger, while we are taxed to pay an army, a great
part of the business of which is, to keep the peace in
Ireland.
Gentlemen, I have stated numerous facts here,
and I have stated them for the purpose of giving an
opportunity before hand to any one to contradict me,
if he can. Pray, my friends, be not amused by hy-
pocritical stuff about " Catholic Emancipation."
What relief could the poor people of Ireland receive
from putting half a dozen Catholic Peers into the
House of Lords ; a dozen or two of Catholic
'Squires into the House of Commons, and silk
gowns upon the hacks of two or three score of
Lawyers, who, for the greater part, stand in need of
hemp round their necks, instead of silk on their
backs ? -.14/th Vl4, Sii
Gentlemen, " Catholic Emancipation" means the
giving of a share of the taxes to the Catholic No-
bility and Lawyers, who, being empty, would come
upon us so sharply, as not to leave a drop of blood in
our bodies. We know well what these men mean
they have once already offered that the 40s. Catholic
freeholders of Ireland should be disfranchised, if
England would let them into Parliament and give
them silk gowns, and would pay SALARIES ANNUALLY
To TEE CATHOLIC PRIESTS ; this astonishingly im-
pudent proposition was actually brought before Par-
liament )1)1825. The scheme was defeated, or we
Protestants should now, at this day, have had to pay
salaries to the Catholic Priests of Ireland, in order
to ititiuce them to persuade the wretched people of
that country quietly to pay tithes to the Protestant
Clergy. This very scheme is on foot at this mo-
ment
and to you belongs the duty to defeat it for
,

ever.
I shall have the honour to propose to you, to peti-
tion for the abolition of all Clerical Tithes, both in
England and Ireland ! for the appropriation of the
rest of the Church Revenues to the relief of the
poor, the orphan, the widow, and the stranger ; leaving
to the Clergy the use of the Churches, the Parsonage
houses, and the Glebes, and, if more be necessary to
their support, leaving that support to come from their
own flocks, in like manner as support now comes to
the Priests and Ministers of our Roman Catholic
And Dissenting fellow-subjects.
Gentlemen, once more I warn you against the
tricks of the two factions, who, as the sensible people
of Maidstone told them, in 1816, are all " tarred
-with the same brush :" one faction has as many
church-livings, as many sinecures and pensions, as
many relations in the Army, Navy, and other lines
of emolument, as the other faction : they may, and
they will, carry on a sham debate for the purpose of
deceiving you into a vote for one or the other faction,
and neither faction cares a straw which : all they
to prevent
want i 5, you from voting for yourselves,
Aly friends of Kent, be not their tools : you never
yet were, and, I trust, that you will now maintain
your character for good sense and public spirit.
I am, Gentlemen,
Your most obedient and most humble servant,
%V. COBBETT.

No EXTRA CHARGE FOR FEEDING !
PERSIAN LION) JUST ARRIVED ! ! !-The noble pair of
Persian Lions, brought over in his Majesty's ship Bombay,
84. guns, Captain CAMPBELL, have been purchased, and
now form part of the unrivalled Collection at the Royal Na_
tiunal Menagerie, Exeter-change. As this (in consequence of
the Strand alterations) may be the last winter that this
superb assemblage will be submitted to public inspection,
the Proprietor, anxious that every one may have an oppor-
tunity of witnessing these grand and majestic animals at
it4,l hour of feeding, respectfully intimates that no extra
*charge will be made at that time, Eight o'clock in the

LITERATURE.

ODES UPON CASH, CORN, CATHOLICS, &c.

LONDON, 1828.

We take it for granted that this brilliant little
duodecimo--the contents of which have from
time to time sparkled in the columns of the
Times newspaper—is the production of Mr.
Thomas Moore. Two cogent reasons have in-
duced us to come to this conclusion : first, the
internal evidence supplied by the poems them-

selves; secondly, the fact, that if Mr. Moore he
not the author, no one else—with the exception,
perhaps, of the writer of those able graphic
sketches, " Parliamentary Portraits"—with whose
compositions the public are acquainted, has
hitherto shown talent enough to enable him
safely to claim them. Setting it down, therefore,
as a fact that to Mr. Moore, and to him
alone, we are indebted for the present volume,
we hasten to return him our thanks for the gra-
tification derived from its perusal. We have
always had a high opinion of this gentleman as a wit
and satirist. To much of the venom of Churchill,
and the epigrammatic invective of Pope, he adds
an ease and brilliancy peculiarly his own. Indeed,
however startling he the assertion, w; infinitely
prefer his humorous'to his serious productions.
In the first, he is always at home, always easy,
always natural ; in the second, he is too often
hurried away from the path of correct taste by
the ignis-fatuus of some pretty conceit,—he
mistakes fancy for feeling, exaggeration for
energy, mounts a child's rocking-horse and thinks
he is bestriding Pegasus. His Irish melodies,
on which, perhaps, his fame is most securely
based, have every beauty but that of character
and appropriateness. They are pretty, sweet, fan-
ciful, elegant, now and then energetic, but in
no one instance that we can remember, convey
the stern, passionate sensibilities of a nation
mad with the accumulated wrongs of ages, and
panting to burst their chains. They are fitted

only for the drawing-room, to steal away the
hearts of ladies—not to rouse the vengeance of the
patriot. They condescend to sue for pity, when they
should proudly invoke revenge. Their very music
is softened down to effeminacy, polished to tame•

ness : hence Mr. Broadhurst, the most feminine
of vocalists, is the most successful in singing
them. The leading defect in Mr. Moore's
poetry is its exceeding desire to conciliate public fa-
vour. To this he sacrifices taste, judgment,
and discretion. If he can only tickle the ear
by sonic pleasing conceit, which wears to a su-
perficial glance the aspect of sentiment, he is
satisfied. Thus in his popular lines on the
Death of a Young Lady—

Death chilled the fair fountain ere sorrow had stained it,
'Twas frozen in all the pure livht of its course,
And but waits till the sunshine of heaven has unchained it,
To water that Eden where first was its source,

the ear is more gratified than the taste : the
imagery is specious but imperfect, and though
we glean a general idea of the author's meaning,
yet it is encumbered, not assisted, by, his meta-
phors. In contradistinction to this, and to show
also that when Mr. Moore writes from the heart,
he writes with the most pathetic simplicity, we
place his well-known stanzas on the Village Bells.

Those evening bells--:those evening bells—
How many a tale their music tells
Of love and hope, anti that sweet time,
When last I heard their tuneful chime.
Those happy hours have parsed away,
And many a heart that then was gay
Within the tomb now darkly dwells,
And hears no more those evening hells.
And so 'twill he when I am gone,
That tuneful peal will still ring on,
While other bards will walk those dells,
And hymn your praise, sweet evening bells.

In these exquisite stanzas the reader will not
fail to observe the natural, indeed homely sim-
plicity of the style and sentiment. There is no
ambition, no affectation, no parade of ornament
about them—yet familiar and unadorned as they
are, they cut deeper to the heart than a thousand
glittering metaphors. Imagery, in fact, to be
effective, should be very sparingly used, parej
plod sails est mamt. It is a tempting, a dan-
gerous gift, and untempered by discretion, hurries
its possessor—no matter how prolific his genius
—into a thousand extravagancies. When, how
ever, it illustrates its subject, or points a senti-
ment, it throws an inexpressible charm over
poetry. In Mr. Moore's lines, for instance, on
Memory,

Oft in the stilly night,
When slumber's chain has bound me,
Fond memos y brings the light
Of other days around me.
The hopes, the fears of boyhood's years,
The words of bliss then spoken ;
The eyes that shone now dim►n'd and gone,
The cheerful hearts now broken.

When I remember all
The friends so linked together,
I've seen around me fall
Like leaves in wintry weather,
I feel like one who treads forlorn,
Some banquet hall deserted,
Whose lights are jled, whose garlands dead,
And all but him departed,
the closing simile steps into the assistance of
the sentiment, and forms a beautiful and affect-
ing exponent. There is nothing cold or recon-
dite about it, it rises naturally from the subject;
nor is there one out of a hundred among his
readers, who has not felt that sense of desertion,
arising from the flagging of a mind over-excited
by society, to which the poet so affectingly al-
ludes. This is the great distinction between
natural and artificial imagery; the one encum-
bers and confuses, the other sets off and eluci-
dates poetry. The " Epicurean" is a notable
instance of the latter class of metaphor carried
to an extravagant excess. It is a rich nosegay
of artificial flowers—dazzling—versatile—glit-
tering all over with the hues of the rain-
bow ; yet despite its gorgeous exuberance,
r
one simple heath blossom, breathing the
::iLldallapherfßumooekho!' nature, is
to
an infinitelyotl i
less all .;
tent, possesses the same defect. It is full to
overflowing of fancy, but that fancy has been so
eldhorated—so piled up with tinsel ornaments—
that that feeling has been literally crushed out beneath
it. The only affecting passage in the whole poem,
" Oh, ever thus from childhood's hour," Ste. is
the only one distinguished by its unadorned sim-
plicity—a fact which, of itself, fully bears out
our theory. But, whatever may be thought of
of Mr. Moore as a serious and sentimental poet

—and, when we condemn him here, we only
mean to assert that his taste is frequently viti-
ated, not that his .genius is at all equivocal—
as a wit he is unrivalled. No scorpion ever
stung with half the deadly effect of his sarcasm.
It is, at times, absolutely withering ; but, when
it merely glances at some dull pompous aris-
tocrat—a Newcastle—a Kenyon—a Lauderdale
—or au Ellenborough—the effect is incon-
ceivably grotesque. " The Two-penny Post
Bag" is, perhaps, the most popular of all Mr.
Moore's jeux d'esprits. It is a perfect pep-
per-box, sharp, stinging, and pungent. Now
and then, however, it displays a laughing vein of
mirth, as in the following arch allusion to Scott
(at a time when his poems were in vogue) the
graceful point of which can only be equalled by
its drollery :
You've heard, Sir, that Scott, of great northern renown,
Is coming by long quarto stages to town ;
And, beginning with Rokeby (the job's sure to pay),
Means to do all the gentlemen's seats on the way.
Now our plan, Sir, is this, and I think we shall beat him,
To start a new poet through Highgate to meet him,
Who, by dint of fair proofs, no revises, quick coaches,
May do a few villas before Scott approaches.

Next in degree to the 'Twopenny Post-Bag
comes the Fudge Family, which is characterized
generally by good-natured familiar vivacity. It
is less caustic than the Post-Bag, but more
amusing. With respect to " Tom Cribb's
Memorial to Congress," and " Fables for the
Holy Alliance," we cannot venture to speak of
them, as we have mot yet seen them ; but of the
present volume we may assert, without fear of con-
tradiction, that it is fully equal to the best of
Mr. Moore's jeux desprits. The wit is buoyant
and sparkling, full of ease and richness, with all
the polish of Sheridan, and all the point of Con-
greve. What for instance can equal the inimi-
table drollery of the following allusion to my
Lord Lauderdale's powers of jocularity?

Bright Peer to whom nature and Berwickshire gave
A humour endow'd with effects so provoking,
That when the whole house looks unusually grave,
You may always conclude that Lord Lauderdale's joking.
Or the lUdicrous exaggeration evinced in this
aversion to the stale topics of Corn and Catholics,
Yes, waft me Parry, to the Pole,
For—if my fate is to he chosen,
'Twixt bores and ice-bergs—on my soul

I'd rather of the two be frozen.
No man—as we observed before—cuts up a
blundering aristocrat in such capital style as
Mr. Moore. His keen wit pierces at once
through the thick fencings of ermine robes, dims
the dazzling star or garter, and betrays the
inner man in all the shivering nakedness of his
nature. ,We really pity the individual on whom
this unequalled satirist vents his venom, and
have often fancied that the least Lord Ellen-
borough could do, after Moore's allusion to his
lore-locks, would be to have his head slaved.
With all his severity, however, let it never be
forgotten that Mr. Moore's talents are ever on the
right side; ever directed to promote the cause of
justice, freedom, and humanity. Himself a man
of high and sensitive honour—a first-rate wit and
poet—a patriot—an enthusiast—a versatile and
accomplished scholar—he respects these qua-
lities in another, and reserves his scorn only for
the talented but abject renegadoe—the un-
blushing adventurer—or the prosing bigotted
Brunswicker.

THE LAST SUPPER; OR, CHRIST'S DEATH KEPT
IN REMEMBRANCE.-LONDON, 1828.

If a dissertation on the most awful of all reli-
gious ceremonies, conceived in a spirit of en-
larged and philosophic piety, and beating in its
every sentiment the glowing impress of Chris-
tianity—luminous in style, forcible in appeal, be-
nignant in doctrine,—if such high qualifications
can make a work popular, then will this have an
immediate and extensive circulation. To be ad-
mired, it has only to be read ; and no one can
rise from its perusal without feeling himself a
better Christian and a better man.

CONSTABLE'S MISCELLANY.

MEMORIALS OF TILE LATE WAR.••--.EDINBEIRMI, 1828.

We have rarely met with a volume which,
within so small a compass, comprises so much
sterling excellence of style, and variety as well
as novelty of information. The first subject is
entitled " Memoirs of the War of the French
in Spain, by M. de Rocca ;" and though this
particular portion of the late campaigns in the
Peninsula has been already ably and even fully
detailed by Southey, and a hundred other
writers, all of whom, some in a greater degree
than others, have nearly exhausted the subject,
yet M. de Rocca has contrived to bring forward
an abundance of fresh facts, which throw a new
light upon points'already known, and elucidate
others of which till now" the public has been
comparatively ignorant. As far as interest is
concerned, the present historiette among mo-
dern works is equalled only by the " Journal of a
common soldier in the Peninsular war," so well
known for its deep and earnest, yet simple and
unpretending style and matter. But the gem of
this little volume is decidedly the account of the
battle of Waterloo, which, for variety and con-
densation of anecdote, beats any thing we have
ever read on the subject. It bears throughout
the impress of personal observation. The writer
himself has been a sharer—and no inglorious
one—of the horrors he describes. We recom-
mend this detail of one of the bloodiest anti
most triumphant battles ever fought, to the no-
tice of all Englishmen : when they once begin,
they will assuredly not lay down the volume till
it is finished. As a specimen of the writer's
manner we give the following brief extract, which
we would willingly lengthen did not our space
and time forbid it :
" It was evident to our general officers, about half-past
five o'clock, that something extraordinary was about to be
performed by the enemy, from the evident concentration of
all worts of troops. At once, all their heavy cavalry,
cuirassiers, carahineers, dragoons, and the cavalry of the
guard, rushed forward upon the British centre. Napoleon
had now in full operation every corps he could 'mister,
except his reserves; and he spoke and felt as if the battle
were liis own ; he even affected gaiety, and, on noticing
s guide tremble at the shot which fell around him, said,
Do not stir, my friend ; a ball will kill you equally in
the back as in the front, and wound you more disgracefully.'
To Bertraad he said, ' We shall arrive at Brussels in time.
fur supper::

" The Duke of Wellington, relying on the valour of his
troops, entertained a very different opinion ; nevertheless,
be Was anxious for the arrival of the Prussians; and often
cast his eyes towards the place from which he knew they

•
•

were to issue. The stream of the action ran with awful
force upon our line, but it withstood it like a rock of the
ocean. The battle, says the French relation, referring to
this particular period, 'is maintained—neither side give
ground—new columns advance—the charges are renewed—
three times the position is on the point of being forced, and
three times, after prodigies of valour, the French are driven
back.'
'°ln this desperate battle I saw,' said an officer, 'the
Duke of Wellington, the Prince of Orange, the Marquis of
Anglesea, Sir Charles Alten, Lord Hill, and other valiant
chiefs, encouraging all by their presence, and at times even
heading the charge.' Still it was difficult to say how
matters stood, or might turn out. The enemy, though
beat off at every point, continued to rush with incredible
courage upon the battalions opposed to them, which were
all of them rapidly diminishing, and showing a less for-
' midable front.
" Every moment the fall of some officer of rank was an-
nounced. The Duke of Wellington, when in the centre
of a dreadful cannonade, witnessed the fall of Sir Alexander
Gordon—Sir William de Lancy—the Hon. Lieut.-Col.
Erskine, and the brave General Van Merle. General
Cooke lost an arm, and General Alten was also wounded,
as were many other useful and eminent officers. The men
were falling in lines, and our centre must have been shaken
but for the exertions and memorable example of the 30th,
73d, 69th, and 33d regiments, who not only withstood the
reiterated assaults of a powerful and numerous infantry,
but repulsed twelve or thirteen charges of the enemy's
horse. The Duke himself was an eye-witness of their
bravery; but he said, I cannot holp it, they must keep
their ground with myself to the last man—would to God
that night or the Prussians were come !'
"It is mentioned iu Paul's Letters to his Kinsfolk,'
that a gentleman had the courage to ask the Duke of Wel-
lington, whether, at this juncture, he looked often to the
wood, from which the Prussians were expected to issue ?
'No,' was the answer; I looked oftener to my watch
than to any thing else. I knew that if soy troops could
keep their position till night, that I must be joined by
Blucher before morning, and we would not have left Bona-
parte an army next day. But I own,' continued he, I
was glad as one hour of daylight slipped away after ano-
ther, and our position was still maintained.'—' And if,'
continued the querist, by misfortune, the position hail
been carried We had the wood behind to retreat into.'
And if the wood also was forced ?'—' No ! no ! they
could never have so beaten us, but we could have made
good the wood against them.'"
The volume is closed with an account of that
affecting tragedy the Death of Napoleon at St.
Helena. It is short, but full of pathos ; and
takes the sketch of Dr. Antommarchi as its
guide.

MINOR POEMS ; by JOSEPH SNOW—LoNnow,I 828.
This is an intelligent little volume, and one
that we have no doubt will be read with consi-
derable interest. There is no assumption about
it, no stilted language—no ambitious absurdities
whether of thought or feeling; we are called on
therefore to hint a word or two in its praise.
The Poem we like best is that on the Death of
the Princess Charlotte, which is solemn, mournful,
and religious, as befits the theme ; the Epistle
to Lord Byron is more objectionable, and too
highly spiced with invective. We are not as a
general 'tile partial to poetic anathemas, they
argue, we conceive a lack of ideas, which they
are but too often brought in to conceal.

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