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Messrs. Maude, Atherstone, Joyce, Conder, Reynolds, Sullivan, Lyndsay, Peers, Dale, Bowring, Thew, Read, Carrington, &c. &c. &c.

2.

A Catalogue Raisonnée of all Families at present residing in London Squares, with the private biography of every member above the age of ten years; being the first of a series of papers, demonstrative of the inconvenience of personality. Family the first, the Putney Smiths, No. 68, Russell Square.

3.

Familiar, but Loyal Epistles to His Most Gracious Majesty on Architecture, Painting, Sculpture, and Gastronomy.

4.

LIAISONS DANGEREUSES, — Politiques et Litteraires.

5.

The Inaugural Discourse of Henry Brougham, Esq., on his Installation as Lord Rector of the London University; kindly communicated by himself.

6.

Autobiographical Memoirs of a celebrated Official Personage.

7.

The Manners and Modes of Belief of the MIDDLE AGES, illustrated by classified selections from the ACTA SANCTORUM.

8.

The Secret History of the Greatest Secret that has occurred for the last Half-century.

9.

A Collection of Anonymous Squibs by the present Cabinet Ministers, produced between the ages of eighteen and thirty-two. A comparative estimate of the Satirical Capacities of his Majesty's present Administration is at present before the Astro-nomer Royal, and will be inserted in our next number.

10.

Unpublished Libels of the late Dr. Parr, written under the character of Latin epitaphs.

No. 1.—Memoræ Sacrum Georgii Canning, ex privato regis concilio, desideratissimi.

No. 2 of The Star Chamber will appear on Wednesday the 26th instant. It will be one of the politest numbers we shall ever produce, and, among other most interesting and important mat- ter, will contain Tri-Nuctia, or Three Nights' Entertainment, a Politico-economical Romance, dedicated to the Right Hon. W. Huskisson, M.P.; at the same time the question of Mr. Mil- man's poetical character will be finally set at rest.

London. Published by W. Marsh, 145, Oxford Street, where communications addressed to the Editor may be left (free of postage), and where advertisements will henceforth be received. Printed by S. and R. Bentley, Dorset-street, Fleet-street.

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[DOUBLE NUMBER.]

No. 2. & 3.] WEDNESDAY, APRIL 26th, 1826. [Price 1s.

"He would diverse times goe into the Star Chamber, as occasion would serve: there he spared neither high nor lowe, but judged every estate according to his merits and desertes."
CAVENDISH'S LIVE OF WOLSEY.

PARLIAMENTARY LOGIC. No. I.

THE RESPONSIBILITY JOB.

The resolution proposed by the Chancellor of the Exchequer in the House of Commons relative to the increase of salary of the President of the Board of Trade, gave rise to a debate which af-fords an excellent illustration of the present state of Parliamentary logic. As it lasted through three nights, (a very unusual occur- rence in our present summary mode of transacting business,) it may not be amiss to inquire how far the arguments adduced for and against the proposition bore upon the question, and which side was the happiest in their attempts to bring about the final, and certainly not unpopular, result.

The Chancellor of the Exchequer submitted his proposition for the increase of salary of the President of the Board of Trade to the attention of the committee, on the grounds of the impropriety that that office should have no fixed salary; and on the absurdity of remunerating services in one office by bestowing emoluments arising out of another appointment, involving less arduous duties, and of inferior importance,—or, in other words, of a sinecure. The less arduous, and less important office, to which the right honourable gentleman alluded, was the Treasurership of the Navy.

Mr. Hume, with his usual desire never to spend a pound with- out saving a penny, suggested that, if the salary of one office were increased, that of the other, in accordance with the Chancellor's ideas of the impropriety of preserving a sinecure to remunerate actual duties, ought to be diminished. This clever little manœu-vre, though, on Mr. Hume's part quite unintentional, produced a most singular effect. The Chancellor of the Exchequer, in his anxiety to preserve the Treasurership undiminished for his honour-able colleague, protested in the face of his former speech, and of the fact itself, that that office was very far from being a sinecure; that the sum paid to the holder of it was not more than just; and that the house should consider, not only the duties to be performed, but the pecuniary responsibility incurred.

Mr. Peel, in his able and oratorical speech, asserted "that the Treasurer of the Navy was answerable for the application of

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millions which daily passed through his hands; and he thought it impossible that such a responsibility could fail to disturb the tranquillity of mind necessary in the other office."

This great and important office of the Treasurer of the Navy was again made the subject of the Chancellor of the Exchequer's speech on the following evening. "I do not mean to contend, that the bodily exertions necessary for the performance of the duties of the Treasurer of the Navy are so great as to overwhelm an individual, and therefore incapacitate him from attending to any other business; but I do repeat, that it is an office which necessarily exposes the person holding it to great anxiety and uneasiness of mind, owing to the heavy pecuniary responsibility attached to it."

This office, according to the "confessions of Mr. Tierney," grossed one hour a day of his time, when that worthy gentleman chanced to be a placeman; and Mr. Canning, although it was not in his power to perform the necessary duties in the same time, was candid enough to confess, that it was owing to his utter ignorance of the business to be transacted.

And, first, of the responsibility which the Chancellor of the Exchequer impressed so earnestly on the house as rendering the office of Treasurership of the Navy by no means a sinecure, and which tended, according to Mr. Peel, to disturb the tranquillity of mind necessary for the fulfilment of the duties of the very scientific office of the Presidency of the Board of Trade. What is the unhappy victim's own account of this tremendous responsibility? "The sums of money (which had been carried off by certain individuals) were recovered, but a balance was lost to the public. I was called upon by the Lords of the Treasury to explain how these frauds had been committed, and to show that they did not arise through any neglect of mine." Oh! hardly used Mr. Treasurer! This is truly a most rest-disturbing responsibility! Two individuals absconded—one with £25,000, the other with £6000 of the public money. Part of the embezzled treasure is recovered; but a considerable sum is irrecoverably lost. The nervous Treasurer is sent for,—is introduced in the greatest trepidation before the Lords of the Treasury, expecting, we suppose, nothing less than a confiscation of his entire property. To his great astonishment and delight, the noble Court, after having asked a few questions as to this miserable affair, subsided into a committee on an imperfection in the existing law; and spent the rest of the morning in preparing a consolidation act for the next session. What a feverish night must the right honourable and responsible Treasurer have passed!

Now, that a responsibility of this very serious nature should make a man careful not to imitate one of these embezzling worthies, and involve himself to an amount of £25,000 by a too liberal use of the public money, is easily to be conceived; but that it should break his rest with visions of extents and confiscations,

that it should destroy his appetite, or disturb his digestion, or that it should so concentrate all his powers on the one object, as to preclude his taking thought for any thing else, will appear, as we think, more evident to the House of Commons than to their Constituents. At all events, the many excellent men who have filled the office in question, seem to have thought otherwise; having made themselves tolerably easy with respect to this awful responsibility, and even reserved a part of their faculties for the performance of other duties.

Mr. Canning, however, on the second evening, drops the unfortunate question of the responsibility, assumes that nothing at all had been proved by his opponents, and proceeds to lay down in a very masterly style the duties of Treasurer of the Navy. He says, "If I am asked whether the Treasurer of the Navy will not have more spare time than is necessary to bestow on the miscellaneous business with which government is overwhelmed? I at once answer, no. I feel persuaded, that immense benefits must result from the application of the surplus time of persons, whose leisure, like the Treasurer of the Navy, is not entirely absorbed by an attention to the duties of their office; and that, by these means, much of the superabundant business of the state may be transacted."

This ingenious suggestion of Mr. Canning's, really deserves to be improved upon; we trust he will cherish this original idea with the paternal affection to which it is entitled, as it does not emanate from those worthies—his Majesty's Opposition. A proposition for creating a body of paid miscellaneous officers will be a grand subject for a very interesting and constitutional debate; and will give the Secretary for Foreign Affairs an excellent opportunity for exerting his logical powers in proving a few more as pleasant paradoxes.

Let us, however, hear the statement of Mr. Huskisson himself, that magnus Apollo of finance and sinecures. With a most laudable anxiety to promote any arrangement for the good of the public, and having reasons to fear that the obstinate stupidity of his Majesty's Opposition would prevent them from duly appreciating his inability to perform the duties of Treasurer of the Navy, he rose himself on the second night of the debate, having hitherto with an unparalleled modesty, and an unprecedented sense of decorum, abstained from giving any receipt for the eulogiums which his honourable friends, the Chancellor of the Exchequer and Mr. Secretary Peel, had been considerate enough to bestow on him.

The eulogium of the Chancellor, although we beg leave to differ from it in toto, yet, as it was delivered with a real and genuine simplicity, we cannot refrain from transcribing. "It would, on this occasion be bad taste in me to pronounce a flourishing panegyric upon my right honourable friend; BUT, I may at least be permitted to affirm, that never were the duties of

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that, or any other office, discharged with greater zeal or assiduity, with the exertion of a more comprehensive mind or an intellect more commanding. Never were the most trying duties discharged with more fixed determination, or with more real benefit to the country."

The *unbiased* opinion of Mr. Baring was, that never was a vote of Parliament better deserved by the individual, or more justified by the occasion. This declaration of Mr. Baring, after his little tilting match with the President of the Board of Trade, in the debate on the silk question, was right gratifying to hear. But, at the end of his speech, the honourable member for Taunton, begins to recover himself. " As to the other question, how far the offices of Treasurer of the Navy and President of the Board of Trade are compatible, I do not wish to mix up with the present discussion; but I shall conclude, by earnestly recommending the Committee to concur in the proposed vote." After this, we, of course, expected to find Mr. Baring in the unhappy majority: but no such thing! his name stands enrolled amongst the seventy-six who could resist the earnest anxiety of the Chancellor, the *dignified silence* of Mr. Huskisson, and the playful badinage and logical anatomy of that accomplished rhetorician the Secretary for Foreign Affairs! Accordingly, on Friday, Mr. Baring's kindness seems to have evaporated; and he contends, that this was as decided a *government job* as had ever been entered into, and of the worst kind. We lament that Mr. Baring did not go any farther than poor Mr. Robinson in his catalogue of the implicated conspirators.

In our anxiety to collect the most spirited eulogiums on Mr. Huskisson we had nearly lost sight of his own speech, and shall therefore return to it, having first added to the list of the Huskissonian panegyric, that of the honourable member for Grampound.

" When he heard the great abilities and attention to commercial affairs, the zeal and powerful mind of the President of the Board of Trade commended, he (Mr. B.) was desirous of seeing how far the public conduct of that right honourable individual bore out the panegyric bestowed upon his talents and success. All the measures which distinguished the commercial policy of the right honourable gentleman had, in fact, come from the other side of the house. To be sure, there was one exception to this remark. The reciprocity system, so injurious to our best commercial interests, was entirely the right hon. gentleman's; and of all the measures he had adopted from the theorists on the opposite side of the house could alone be considered his own."

In these remarks on the political plagiarisms of the right honourable gentleman, Mr. Robinson was kindly and candidly supported by Mr. Canning.

But let us return to Mr. Huskisson's speech. Like the favourite buffo singer at San Carlos, the treasurer-president commenced by

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making his bow before he entered on his part; and, previous to the performance, thanked the audience for their kind notice; then, with a most ingenuous modesty, he occupied the house for some time with desenting on his utter inability to fill the office of Treasurer of the Navy.

"He declared, that united as those offices were in him, he could not satisfy his mind that the duties of the Treasurership of the Navy were, so far as he was concerned, duly and adequately performed." This candid confession of incompetency was followed up by an explanation that the present paymaster was a most valuable individual, and quite the treasurer's factotum; and that, in case of being deprived of his assistance, the Principal would be perfectly unable to instruct the new officer in any part of his business.

"He (Mr. Huskisson) confessed that he was not so far informed in the detail of business in his own office as that he could at that moment say from his own knowledge, whether matters were going on there right or wrong. So long as he remained unable to divest himself of the feelings to which he had adverted, he was convinced that it was any thing rather than a public service to continue in possession of both offices; though he could not assert that he had not time enough to discharge the duties of both employments."

Now the ingenuity of Mr. Huskisson's metaphysical distinction is only to be equalled by the simplicity and open-heartedness with which, in the passages we have quoted, and throughout his whole speech, he candidly confesses his ignorance of the causes of his inability to perform at the same time the duties of the two offices. Unfortunately for Mr. Huskisson, in the full expectation that the question would be carried with one of his usual triumphant majorities, he has committed himself rather too far, and has thus suffered it to stand on record on his own avowal, that he has for some time held two offices, the duties of which he does not consider himself able to perform with any service to the public; and that, at this day, he is still ignorant of the duties, and even of the transactions, in one of them; and yet that he has sufficient time to perform them if it were his inclination. If, after this avowal, Mr. Huskisson does not resign one or the other office, if he does not either delegate his favourite reciprocity scheme or the superintendence of seamen's wills to some competent supervisor, we must, admire the effrontery of a man who continues in an office, the duties of which he has actually confessed himself unable to perform; and we can only recommend his Majesty's Opposition to perform for him what he seems unwilling to perform for himself.

On Mr. Canning's two playful speeches, inasmuch as he either repeated what had been before advanced, or urged matter completely irrelevant, few remarks need be made. We must observe, however, that, at the beginning of his first oration, he set out

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with a magnanimous promise to prove the absorbing attention
absolutely attendant on the office of President of the Board of
Trade. This, as it had escaped his colleagues, would have been
an interesting topic for the brilliancy of his argument; but the
flashy secretary quickly glanced off from the promised theme,
and returned to the old question of the importance of the Treasurer-
ship; defending it, of course, with arguments about as solid
and convincing, though perhaps not quite so ingenuous, as those
of Mr. Huskisson's.

On the last night, finding that the honesty of Mr. Robinson
had driven him to make some admissions rather bearing against
the previous night's argument, the Secretary for Foreign Affairs
took up a new position, and defended the proposition on the
ground of its having been actually suggested by the members of
the opposition.

If Mr. Canning and his friends are correct in this declaration,
we must consider it as an admission of so extraordinary a nature
as to supply matter for very serious reflexion. The public can-
not have failed to remark the candid pertinacity with which the
present administration are constantly admitting, and assuring us
that all their places and conduct originate in the suggestions of
the opposition. After all the flaming eulogiums which have been
poured forth on Mr. Huskisson and his new schemes by the
house, by part of the country, and by his plate-presenting con-
stituents, it will be, we imagine, rather mortifying to those indi-
viduals to find that Mr. Huskisson is merely the midwife who
assisted at the birth, but by no means the true parent of the
popular البنت whom he has however adopted with such
affection. And this admission of Mr. Canning's will also involve
another question. There are certain classes in the country, whose
affection for their king and legitimate constitution has obtained
for them, in common parlance, the title of Tories. Now, when
these classes of high respectability and character, men who may
be said to take the greatest interest, inasmuch as their is the
greatest stake, in the welfare of the vessel, whose steerage has
however been committed to strange pilots; when, we repeat,
these classes perceive (and they very shortly must perceive it)
that their confidence has been abused; that a certain body of
unhappy men has been foisted into the councils of our most
gracious Sovereign under the specious title of Tories, but bearing
in their hearts all the intents and schemes of arch-jacobins—when
they moreover observe, that this faction has with ruinous haste
already revolutionized the commercial regulations of this com-
mercial country—when they witness them confounding and new
fangling every part of the vast machine of the state—when the
people of England find that the morrow only dawns to witness
the introduction of destructive novelties, or the destruction of
antient interests and recognised rights—when they find, more-
over, that, by a political juggle, at this moment no opposition

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exists in the House of Commons to watch over their rights, we
ask, whether they will not unanimously rise, and find once more
in the now reviled power, and prerogative of the Crown, a refuge
and a salvation from the unprincipled conduct of a desperate
cabal.

ELECTIONS.

There will be no contest for the county of Westmoreland. Mr.
Brougham does not start.

Lord John Russell has just completed a most unsuccessful can-
vas for the county of Huntingdon. The firm persuasion through-
out the county is, that his Lordship has turned Catholic.

The five candidates for the representation of the City are now:
Mr. William Ward, Mr. Alderman Wood, Mr. Alderman Thomp-
son, the Lord Mayor, and Mr. Alderman Waithman. Mr. Ward
will come in, we trust, at the head of the poll, as he is exactly
the person who should be a representative of the city. Wood,
in spite of his politics, vulgarity, and officiousness, we hope, will
succeed. It should not be forgotten that the worthy Alderman's
name never figured in the glittering lists of swindlers, who,
under the name of Directors of Joint Stock Companies, have
committed, and have been the occasion of, greater crimes than
all the felons who have been executed at the Old Bailey or
shipped to Botany Bay.

As for that egregious personage, Mr. Alderman Thompson, we
confess we are somewhat at a loss to discover on what grounds
he comes forward to solicit our suffrages: not certainly on the
score of talents—he is no stranger to Saint Stephens. We know
him. Possibly on the score of wealth? He must be very rich.
The director of the Anglo-Mexican Mining Company—the di-
rector of the Colombian Company—the director of the Chilian and
Peruvian Mining Company, &c. &c. &c.—has certainly great
claims on the admiration of the city of London; and surely can
scarcely be refused the votes of those fathers whose sons have
been ruined by the precious associations which the worthy Al-
derman has introduced to public notice,—has puffed to private
“friends,”—and which we believe, are all now on the point of
dissolution or despair!

As for the fourth candidate, it seems to be considered as much
a matter of course for a Lord Mayor to represent the city, as it is
for an insolvent trader to conceal his beggary by continuing his
accommodation bills. Why cannot Mr. Alderman Venables
profit by the example of a predecessor who was equally qualified
for the great honour which he is aspiring to, and equally weak
in daring to be ambitious? Will seven sessions of senato-
rial pride compensate for becoming a laughing-stock for the
rest of his life? Mr. Baring is reported to have excused himself
from standing on the score of age.

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BUBBLE MEMBERS.

Sir William Congreve, Mr. Bent, and Mr. Brogden, the Arigna gentlemen, will, of course, retire from Parliament. Mr. Matthias Attwood will be so good as to give us an account of the funds of the various Joint Stock Companies which were collected by him in pursuance of his power as director, and then preserved by him in virtue of his office as banker. Mr. Macqueen will hear from us next week.

Mr. Buxton, the grand champion of Joint Stock Companies will, we hope, leave the country, and seek refuge in the West Indies.

Mr. Pascoe Grenfell, will perhaps be so good as to transmit us an account of the Colombian Mining Company; we understand that the mines of this company change character every week, producing copper and silver alternately. Mr. Wilson has retired from the representation of the City in time—otherwise we should have been under the necessity of holding a little conversation with that honourable gentleman concerning a few of those "little species," which he was so eloquent about some months since. Mr. Ellice has prudently declined becoming a candidate for the City.

Brazilian-Mining-Joshua-Walker requires only this notice.

The communications from a high quarter which imparted such extraordinary interest to the able article in the Quarterly Review on Sheridan, were contained in a small volume, and written in a fine clear hand. The precious tome itself was forwarded to an eminent official.

We recommend that the two sides of the intended British Museum should be continued in conformity with the original design; and that the old building should be pulled down altogether, and as soon as it is convenient.

A very fine copy of Piranesi's *Opera Omnia* was cheaply purchased at Christie's a few days ago at the sale of Mr. Saunders's library for one hundred and thirteen guineas. This copy, as far as we could judge, was in a very fine condition, and appeared to be one of those taken off on the true Italian paper.

There is a most complete and singular collection of paintings in natural history now in this country in the possession of Mr. Heilbronn, who purchased them of an Hungarian nobleman. The collection is to be purchased. Would it not be worthy the notice of the Museum. The sum asked is £3,000, not being much more than three guineas a leaf.

Mr. Shepperson, the artist, has just completed copies of the Rembrandt belonging to Sir Thomas Lawrence and of several Sir Joshua's. Mr. Shepperson will probably be employed to

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paint the ceiling of the dining-room at Windsor Castle. It is calculated that it will take him two years and a half to complete his engagement.

We have been favoured with a view of Mr. Wilkins's design for the buildings of the new London University, which has been accepted. The grand portico of this building, when finished, will have two columns more than any portico in England.

We hear that Woodstock will not disappoint the most sanguine expectations. The character of Cromwell is whispered to be peculiarly splendid.

It is reported that the conduct of a gentleman, high in office, has been of no very equivocal nature with respect to the Canada Company, that it is in contemplation, even at this late period of the session, to submit it to the notice of Parliament. As far as we can collect from the papers which have been forwarded to us, it does appear that the question cannot be allowed to rest as it now stands. The character of the government has already been compromised.

We are informed, upon authority which we must credit, that frauds of a terrific nature have been discovered as connected with the transaction of the affairs of some of the American Mining Companies. We are told that, in some of those companies which have been most frequent in their calls on their unfortunate victims, it has transpired that the directors themselves have not evinced such a readiness in producing the required contributions; and that, by sagaciously administering their self-constituted powers, they have made the vulgar shareholder pay at the same time for their past imprudent management, and their present prudent disposition. One notorious individual alone is said to be upwards of thirty thousand pounds in arrear to some flourishing association whose affairs he is directing.

It is reported that Mr. Charles Butler is engaged in preparing a Latin preface to a new edition of Thomas à Kempis De Imitatione Christi. A critical analysis of that celebrated treatise has long been desired in this country, and no one could be pointed out more capable of executing it than the learned champion of Catholicism.

After the immense expence which the sapient Society of Antiquaries has incurred in engraving the Bayeux tapestry, it is now discovered, beyond a doubt, that the tapestry is not a contemporaneous production. The learned Abbé de la Rue, President of the Society of Antiquaries of Normandy, is now preparing a dissertation on the subject.

That learned and judicious body, the vestry of St. Mary-le-Bone, have ordered Oxford Street to be Macadamized.

The following epigram was addressed by Dr. South to that thoughtless Monarch, Charles II., whom he had been instrumental in restoring, and by whom he fancied himself neglected:

> "Te magis optavit rediturum, Carole, nemo;
> Et nemo sentit te rediisse minus."

C

30

## THE STAR CHAMBER.

It is vulgarly reported that, at a recent competition among the wits of Cambridge, which should produce a respectable translation of this distich, the following was accepted as the best attempt:

"No one more wished for your return, (God bless
Your Majesty!) and no one feels it less."

It is a pity that the worst was not recorded at the same time.

*Epitaphium in Epitaphio; a Sepulchral Inscription for one of Dr. Parr's unpublished Libels.*

Here lies an Epitaph—there's mischief in't—
Nor Marsh will publish it—nor Johnson print—
A hopeful bantling in these days of dearth,
For lack of midwife strangled in the birth!
And now it's death-denouncing parent's gone,
Peel, Canning, Huskisson, may all live on;
Live on from libels safe, and thank their stars,
Though Parr dar'd write them, printers are not Parrs.

T. M.

## THE AUTHOR OF GRANBY.

Cosnet, the author of Granby, is a most respectable man, active, obliging and attentive; and, as far as we know, sober and honest. He certainly has had most excellent opportunities of mingling in the best society, the first requisite for a "novelist of fashionable life." On the whole, it must be confessed, that his characters are very ably drawn, as the Aristarchus in the Quarterly acutely observed of the Miss Hobsons, there is "a great co-herency in their parts." The plot also is well managed, being, to continue the language of the fastidious Reviewer, "cleverly spiced with the dialogues;" and, lastly, the characters on the whole, are, as the man would say, who deprecates the introduction of the language of the steward's room into a lord lieutenant's parlour, done to a turn!!" But Homer sometimes sleeps, as the magazines often observe; and Cosnet is not always correct. Who, for instance, could have palmed upon the worthy waiter, a certain character called Lady Harriet Duncan? Which, we are kindly informed, is intended as a representative of that class of persons known in the circles as "the blues."

We are no collectors of the tittle-tattle of boudoirs and drawing-rooms—literature and politics afford us sufficient matter for our observation, and we have no intention of gaining the notice of the public by scandal about the Countess of — or Lady — But really, in justice to a class of society who, we are studiously

## THE STAR CHAMBER.

31

and daily informed in the newspapers, are tremblingly alive lest this terrible sketch of Cosnet's should be applied to any one of their unfortunate members, we must observe that, taking into consideration all the affection, conceit and frivolity which may distinguish the female leaders of the May-Fair coteries, still the audacity of comparing acute and accomplished ladies to a silly, vulgar, chattering woman, who talks about poetry, and newspaper-paragraphs, collects "curiosities," and autographs, and who, moreover, keeps an album, is truly admirable.

The truth is, every scribbler imagines that he may chatter about the "the blues," a class of persons of whom most probably he knows nothing, and whom "the novelists of fashionable life," of which the egregious author of Granby is a very fair specimen, conceive to be people who talk about nothing but poetry, do nothing but to collect autographs, and finally keep albums,—three sins which, we beg to assure him, are only committed by such ladies as the Miss Matilda Hobsons, and are only thought of by such refined gentlemen as literary butlers'.

## MADAM PASTA'S RE-APPEARANCE.

MADAME PASTA made her first appearance this season, on Saturday, in the character of Desdemona, in Rossini's serious opera of Otello. She has so often delighted us and all the musical world in this character, that we need only say, she was received with all the rapture and admiration which she commands, whether in London or at Paris. We have heard this character sung by many celebrated prima Donna's, and who of late years has not been charmed with Fodor or Camporesi. But none bear a comparison with Pasta. We only hope that, as she stays in England so short a time, and is to be paid at the rate of about five guineas for every bar of music she sings, we shall not be compelled to hear her for ever in a character, in which we have heard her and a thousand others so often, and which even Pasta could scarcely make us go to hear again.

## THE ROSARY. No. 1.

We have received a letter written in a very contrite and broken spirit, and expatiating on the unfairness of imputing the review of Tremaine in the Quarterly to Mr. Stewart Rose. It is not our custom, without sufficient warranty, to fix any anonymous publications upon known authors; nor in our notice of the article did we, in common with all others, allude in any degree to Mr. Stewart Rose. The world imagine themselves very acute in their discoveries of

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similarities of style and sentiment; the hypothesis however, upon
which they found their observations, are, in nine cases out of ten,
wrong; and consequently we never see an anonymous work rightly
fathered, until, seduced by the world's applauses, the modest
parent himself steps forward, and recognizes the accomplished
bantling. We should, however, have been justified in treating
Mr. Rose as the reviewer of Tremaine, for the article in the Quar-
terly contains so much matter which is to be found in Mr. Rose's
acknowledged productions, that there surely could be no wish on
the reviewer's part to conceal his identity from the public. Our
correspondent also, in extenuating the folly of the critic, who com-
pared and preferred a book which has become such a favorite with
milliners, that they have actually, in the enthusiasm of their admi-
ration, suspended ribbons a la Mathilde in their shop windows to
a work, whose object it is to reconcile mankind to their present lot,
and prepare them for a future, acutely remarks, that, "after all, it
cannot be denied, that both the works in question are novels."
This is very much like the famous parallel of Macedon and Mon-
mouth—it cannot be denied also, that Mr. Gibbon and Mr. Stewart
Rose are both historians; but, with the exception of one egregious
circle, we have not yet understood that the historian of Monkey's
has yet superseded, in the estimation of the world, the chronicler of
Imperial Rome.

I'm afraid this article on Pepys," said Stewart Rose to —
as they met the other day at the Athenæum, "I'm afraid it will do
the Quarterly considerable injury." "Injury!" exclaimed —
"why I was just mentioning it as one of the most masterly produc-
tions that we have seen for a long time—its philosophical spirit—
its luminous arrangement—its—"Pooh! pooh!" rejoined Aristar-
chus, "the fellow spells Tangier with an s!"

We understood that last summer Stewart Rose and Laporte the French comedian, met on board an Edinburgh steam-boat. It was in one of these excursions in the German Ocean that the great critic obtained his admirable knowledge of nautical terms, and which he has brought into play with such happy effect in his recently published *magnum opus*, the review of Tremaine in the Quarterly —witness "splicing the thread of a narrative,"—"the listless calm succeeding the short sea of troubles, and threatening to overwhelm his ill-formed bark, before she was fairly anchored," &c. &c. &c.

Laporte speaks English with great fluency, but occasionally assists the rapidity of his utterance with words which they use in foreign parts. Where have you put my valise, Mr. Steward ?" asked the admirable personator of Mascarille.

"Why can't the fellow say trunk?" exclaimed Aristarchus—
(*portmanteau* was much too French.) This is evidently some
London shopkeeper by his hodge podge of languages !"

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"Dinner, 3s. a head," announced the steward to Laporte. "What wine do you take, Sir?" "Any thing light—any thing light—have you any Bordeaux?"

"Bordeaux!" exclaimed the *refined* reviewer, very much an-
noyed. "No distinguished statesman in the House of Lords or
Commons has ever, I believe, 'spliced the thread' of his speeches
with foreign phrases—but I must not be *fastidieux* on board a
steamer. However, I'll not be 'drenching my weak stomach' with
any French liquors."

Just as the elegant critic had seated himself at table, and was
helping himself to some bacon and greens—a true English dish—
Laporte called for the *garcon*, and flourished, at the same time, a
French cambric handkerchief, which had been recently steeped in
eau-de-cologne. The "nauseousness of the perfume" instantly
disorganized the sensitive *estomac* of the critic; and, actuated by
the "real spirit of patriotism," and a true "Bullish feeling," he was
forthwith landed at Scarborough.

We are informed that Stewart Rose has left town in despair,
bitterly declaring, that the failure of his article can only be ascribed
to the editor of the Quarterly Review, who "cut out," according
to Mr. Rose, "all the piquant passages." We certainly should
consider Mr. Lockhart the last person in the world who would be
hostile to the insertion of any thing "piquant." But as he is a
man of true wit himself, he can possibly distinguish between what
is *piquant* and what is *flippant*, and consequently, his castrations
have most probably saved Mr. Rose the disgrace of a more com-
plete exposure.

For the quoted passages, see the Quarterly Review of Fashion-
able Novels *passim*.

Vivian Grey. 2 vols. post 8vo. Colburn.

In consequence of the publication of Vivian Grey, we are under
the necessity of postponing the first number of "Town Idylls,"
which, however, will positively appear in our next number. Of
Vivian Grey itself we have not time at present to give anything like
a detailed criticism. It is a very extraordinary production, and
must infallibly be very universally read. We extract a description
and a character, the first of which is very requisite, and the second
very true. The description is of the castle of the Carabas family.

"How shall I describe CHATEAU DESIR, that place fit for all princes? In the midst of a park of great extent, and eminent for scenery as varied as might please Nature's most capricious lover, in the midst of green lawns and deep winding glens, and cooling

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streams, and wild forests, and soft woodland, there was gradually formed an elevation, on which was situate a mansion of great size, and of that bastard, but picturesque style of architecture, called the Italian Gothic. The date of its erection was about the middle of the sixteenth century. You entered by a noble gateway, in which the pointed style still predominated, but in various parts of which the Ionic column, and the prominent key-stone, and other creations of Roman architecture intermingled with the expiring Gothic, into a large quadrangle, to which the square casement windows, and the triangular pediments or gable ends, supplying the place of battlements, gave a varied and Italian feature. In the centre of the court, from an immense marble basin, the rim of which was enriched by a splendidly sculptured lotus border, rose a marble group, representing Amphitrite with her marine attendants, whose sounding shells and coral sceptres sent forth their subject element in sparkling showers. This work, the chef d'ouvre of a celebrated artist of Vicenza, had been purchased by Valerian, first Lord Carabas, who, having spent the greater part of his life as the representative of his monarch at the Ducal Court of Venice, at length returned to his native country, and, in the creation of Chateau Desir, endeavoured to find some consolation for the loss of his gay palazzo on the banks of the Adige. Over the gateway there rose a turreted tower, the small square window of which, notwithstanding its stout stauchions, illuminated the muniment room of the house of Carabas. In the spandrils of the gateway, and in many other parts of the building, might be seen the arms of the family, while the innumerable stacks of chimneys, which appeared to spring from all parts of the roof, were carved and built in such curious and quaint devices, that they were rather an ornament than an excrescence. When you entered the quadrangle, you found one side solely occupied by the old hall, the immense carved rafters of whose oaken roof rested on corbels of the family supporters against the walls. The walls of the hall were of stone, but these were covered halfway from the ground with a pannelling of curiously carved oak, and where hung suspended the family portraits in massy frames, painted partly by Dutch, and partly by Italian artists. Near the dais, or upper part of the hall, there projected an oriel window, which, as you beheld, you scarcely knew what most to admire, the radiancy of its painted panes, or the fantastic richness of Gothic ornament, which was profusely lavished in every part of its masonry —there too the Gothic pendent and the Gothic fan-work were intermingled with the Italian arabesques, which, at the time of the building of the chateau, had been recently introduced into England by Hans Holbein and John of Padua.

How wild and fanciful are those ancient arabesques! Here at Chateau Desir, in the pannelling of the old hall, might you see fantastic scrolls separated by bodies ending in termini, and whose heads supported the Ionic volute, while the arch, which appeared to spring from those capitals, had for a key-stone heads more mon-

strous than those of the fabled animals of Ctesias, or so ludicrous that you forgot the classic griffin in the grotesque conception of the Italian artist. Here was a gibbering monkey, there a grinning pulcinello, now you viewed a chattering devil, which might have figured in the temptation of St. Anthony, and now a mournful, mystic, bearded countenance, which might have flitted in the back scene of a witch's sabbath.

A long gallery wound through the upper story of two other sides of the quadrangle, and beneath were the show-suite of apartments, with a sight of which the admiring eyes of curious tourists were occasionally delighted.

The grey stone-walls of this antique edifice were, in many places, thickly covered with ivy and other parasitical plants, the deep green of whose verdure, beautifully contrasted with the scarlet glories of the papyrus japonica, which gracefully clustered round the windows of the lower chambers. The mansion itself was immediately surrounded by numerous ancient forest-trees. There was the elm, with its rich branches, bending down like clustering grapes; there was the wide-spreading oak, with its roots fantastically gnarled; there was the ash, with its smooth bark and elegant leaf; and the silver beech, and the gracile birch, and the dark fir, affording with its rough foliage a contrast to the trunks of its more beautiful companions, or, shooting far above their branches with the spirit of freedom worthy of a rough child of the mountains.

Around the castle were extensive pleasure grounds, which realized the romance of the gardens of Verulam. And truly as you wandered through their enchanting paths, there seemed no end to their various beauties, and no exhaustion of their perpetual novelty. Green retreats succeeded to winding walks; from the shady berceau, you vaulted on the noble terrace; and if for an instant you felt wearied by treading the velvet lawn, you might rest in a mossy cell, while your mind was soothed by the soft music of falling waters. Now your curious eyes were greeted by oriental animals basking in a sunny paddock; and, when you turned from the white-footed antelope and the dark-eyed gazelle, you viewed an aviary of such extent that, within its tweliced walls, the imprisoned songsters could build in the free branches of a tree their natural nests.

"Oh, fair scene!" thought Vivian Grey, as he approached on a fine summer's afternoon the splendid chateau. "Oh, fair scene! doubly for those who quit for you the thronged and agitated city. And can it be, that those who exist within this enchanted domain can think of any thing but sweet air, and do ought but revel in the breath of perfumed flowers." And here he gained the garden gate: so he stopped his soliloquy, and gave his horse to his groom."

Next comes the character, which is a very masterly delineation.

"Stapylton Toad had not the honour of being acquainted with his father's name; but as the son found himself, at an early age, apprenticed to a solicitor of eminence, he was of opinion that his parent must have been respectable. Respectable! mysterious

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world! Stapylton was a very diligent and faithful clerk, but was not as fortunate in his apprenticeship as the celebrated Whittington, for his master had no daughter, and many sons; in consequence of which, Stapylton, not being able to become his master's partner, became his master's rival.

On the door of one of the shabbiest houses in Jermyn-street, the name of Mr. Stapylton Toad for a long time figured, magnificently engraved on a broad brass plate. There was nothing, however, otherwise in the appearance of the establishment which indicated, that Mr. Toad's progress was very rapid, or his professional career extraordinarily prosperous. In an outward office, one solitary clerk was seen oftener stirring his office-fire, than wasting his master's ink; and Mr. Toad was known by his brother attorneys, as a gentleman, who was not recorded in the Courts, as ever having conducted a single cause. In a few years, however, a story was added to the Jermyn-street abode, which new pointed and new painted, began to assume a most mansion-like appearance. The house-door was also thrown open, for the solitary clerk no longer found time to answer the often agitated bell, and the eyes of the entering client were now saluted by a gorgeous green baize office-door—the imposing appearance of which was only equalled by Mr. Toad's new private portal, splendid with a brass knocker, and patent varnish; and now his brother attorneys began to wonder “how Toad got on! and who Toad's clients were!”

A few more years rolled over, and Mr. Toad was seen riding in the park at a most classical hour, attended by a groom in a most classical livery; and now “the profession” wondered still more, and significant looks were interchanged by “the respectable houses;” and flourishing practitioners in the city shrugged up their shoulders, and talked mysteriously of “money business,” and “some odd work in annuities.” In spite, however, of the charitable surmises of his brother lawyers, it must be confessed, that nothing of even an *equivocal* nature ever transpired against the character of the flourishing Mr. Toad, who, to complete the mortification of his less successful rivals, married, and, at the same time, moved from Jermyn Street to Cavendish Square. The new residence of Mr. Toad had previously been the mansion of a noble client, and one whom, as the world said, Mr. Toad “had got out of difficulties.” This significant phrase will probably throw some light upon the nature of the mysterious business of our prosperous practitioner. Noble lords, who have been in difficulties, will not much wonder at the prosperity of those who get them out.

About this time, Mr. Toad became acquainted with Lord Mounteny, a nobleman in great distress, with fifty thousand per annum. His Lordship “really did not know how he had got involved, he never gamed, he was not married, and his consequent expenses had never been unreasonable, he was not

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extraordinarily negligent, quite the reverse, was something of a man of business, remembered once looking at his accounts, and yet, in spite of this regular and correct career, found himself quite *involved*,—must leave England.” The arrangement of the *Mounteny property*, was the coup finale of Mr. Stapylton Toad’s professional celebrity. His lordship was *not* under the necessity of quitting England, and found himself in the course of five years, in the receipt of a clear rental of five and twenty thousand pounds per annum. His lordship was in raptures—and Stapylton Toad purchased an elegant villa in Luney, and became a member of Parliament. Goodburn Park, for such was the name of Mr. Toad’s country residence, in spite of its double lodges and patent park-paling, it was not, to Mr. Toad, a very expensive purchase; for he “took it off the hands” of a distressed client, who wanted an immediate supply, “merely to convenience him,” and consequently became the purchaser, at about half its real value. “Attornies,” as Bustle, the auctioneer, says, “have such opportunities.”

Mr. Toad’s career in the house was as correct as his conduct out of it. After ten years regular attendance, the boldest conjecturer would not have dared to define his political principles. It was a rule with Stapylton Toad *never* to commit himself. Once, indeed, he wrote an able pamphlet on the corn laws, which excited the dire indignation of that egregious body, the political Economy Club. But Stapylton cared little for their subtile confutations, and their loudly expressed contempt. He had obliged the country gentlemen of England, and ensured the return, at the next election, of Lord Mounteny’s brother for the county. At this general election also, Stapylton Toad’s purpose in entering the house, became rather more manifest; for it was found, to the surprise of the whole country, that there was scarcely a place in England, county, city, town, or borough, in which Mr. Toad did not possess some influence. In short, it was discovered that Mr. Toad had “a first rate parliamentary business”—that nothing could be done without his co-operation, and every thing with it. In spite of his prosperity, Stapylton had the good sense never to retire from business, and even to refuse a baronetcy, on condition, however, that it should be offered to his son. Stapylton, like the rest of mankind, had his weak points—the late Marquiss of Almacks, was wont to manage him very happily; and Toad was always introducing that Minister’s opinion of his importance—“My time is quite at your service, General, although the poor dear Marquess used to say, ‘Mr. Stapylton Toad, your time is mine.’ He knew the business I had to get through!’” The family portraits also, in most ostentatious frames, now adorned the dining room of his London mansion, and it was amusing to hear the worthy M. P. dilate upon his likeness to his respected father.

“You see, my Lord,” Stapylton would say, pointing to a

D

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dark dingy picture of a gentleman in a rich court-dress, " you see, my Lord, it is not in a very good light, and it as certainly is a very dark picture—by Hudson.

NATIONAL GALLERY, PALL MALL.—A very important addition has been recently made to the National Gallery in Pall Mall of sixteen pictures presented by Sir George Beaumont. Several of these are pictures of great celebrity and acknowledged excellence, and are more interesting, as some of them are fine specimens of the English school; and there is hardly one of them which can be mentioned but in terms of admiration.

Nos. 28. and 34. are a view of Mecenas's villa at Tivoli, and the Niobe, by Wilson. Both of these are too well-known to need long comment, and have been both engraved by the celebrated Woollett. The first of these two is a truly splendid composition; and the soft beam of sunshine on the middle ground, and part of the building in the other, and the sacred shades of the groves of Tivoli, are handled in a most masterly manner.

No. 32. A landscape with figures, by Nicholas Poussin, is in his most pleasing style of colouring.

No. 31. A view in Venice, by Canaletti, is a splendid and undoubted specimen of this famous master. It is in his best style, with all the strong touches and broad lights, for which he was so justly celebrated.

No. 26. A man's head, by Sir Joshua Reynolds, is one of his many studies for the head of Ugolino, in that well known painting now at Knowle, and which was exhibited not many years ago at the British Institution.

No. 22. Is a very fine Both: a mountainous landscape with figures.

No. 33. The blind fiddler, by Wilkie, is a picture which has been long and justly admired, and is too well-known by the excellent engraving of it by Burton to need description. The reflexion of the fire on the face and body of the beggar boy, who is creeping in to warm himself before it, is admirable; and Wilkie has drawn a very fine distinction between the character of stupidity in the beggars, and the more intellectual superiority which shines in the faces of the cottagers.

No. 21. Pylades and Orestes, by the late Mr. West, do not show well in the good company where they are now placed. Mr. West's talents have been much over-rated. He spoiled Windsor Castle by his paintings, and St. George's Chapel by his designs for painted glass. We know perfectly well the low estimation in which his present Gracious Majesty holds his performances; and by such decision we are ready to abide. But, in some future number, when we shall be less pressed for matter of immediate consequence, we intend taking a review of Mr. West's Gallery, in order to explain our opinions more fully on this subject.

Sir George Beaumont merits the gratitude of the country. His munificent donation has added a new feature to the Gallery, and one calculated to excite the honest pride of every Englishman zealous for the pre-eminence

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of his country. For the specimens of Reynolds, Wilson, Wilkie, and Hogarth, assume their place, and claim a high rank among the most celebrated paintings by the first artists of the Flemish and Italian schools. And when, as we hope will ere long be the case, some spirited individual shall have added Sir Thomas Lawrence to this catalogue, we shall be prepared to say, that there will be sufficient in this Gallery to instruct and mature the taste, and to cherish the pride, of every English artist.

The Pictures of LORD BERWICK and others, which were sold by Phillips last week, were some of them of considerable importance and value. The celebrated picture of the Virgin and Child, by Murillo, is too well known among connoisseurs to need a very long description. The simplicity and nature of the composition must strike every one at first sight. The graceful attitudes of the two figures, and the maternal solicitude with which the virgin bends over the child on her knees, must amply compensate for the want of sublimity which some persons are inclined to find fault with. The colouring is rich without being gaudy. It was bought for 500 guineas.

Nos. 186. and 190., two fine specimens of Nicolo Poussin, fetched 150 and 200 guineas; Christ restoring the Blind to Sight, and Acis and Galatea. The design and composition of the figures in the former, and particularly those of Christ and the blind man, and the colouring of the latter, are their chief features. In the former, that red monotony of colouring which is observable in nearly all the pictures by this master is very conspicuous.

Nos. 72. and 188. Two beautiful landscapes in the deep and sombre tone of Gasper Poussin.

Nos. 124. and 151. Two pictures of the Temptation of St. Antony, by Teniers. This seems to have been a very favourite subject with Teniers. Besides these two, there are numerous paintings by him of a Saint meditating; and there is in the gallery of the Louvre, at Paris, a picture of the same subject, where the figures are on a larger scale, but resemble almost exactly those in No. 124. We particularly recollect the egg-shell bird perched on the vessel close to the saint. The variety of monsters, which in these two pictures surround St. Antony, are truly worthy the grotesque imagination of Teniers. They flit about the saint, and approach in every form most calculated to excite his desires or divert his attention; and, we may remark, that, in the former of these pictures, he continues reading seemingly unmoved,—whereas, in the latter, he is looking off from his book with an eye of distrust to the signs of diablerie which surround him. In the air a monster with cuirass of an earthen-pot, and mounted on a feathered charger, is tilting with a toad, which he has just pierced with a reed. To the right of the saint is a boor, with a glass of liquor in his hand, mounted on a trapped pig, and anatomies and monsters of the most bizarre and extravagant nature are crowding in on every side. Fair damsels also superbly dressed and accompanied by amorous swains, and Avarice, represented by an aged woman, weighing her gold, fill up the picture.

There are several others by Teniers of rustic revelry, and a pair of landscapes with cattle and figures.

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No. 155. and 156. are two pleasing views on the Meuse, by Stork, in his clear and silvery tone, crowded with buildings, and a variety of vessels on the water. They sold for 60 and 50 guineas.

The grand historical painting, by Rubens, was cheaply bought at 660 guineas. It is a specimen of Rubens' best colouring as well as composition, and contains nothing of the coarseness and vulgarity which is objectionable in some of his historical pictures, especially, for example, in the series of the Life of Catherine V. of Medicis, in the gallery of the Louvre; and the Rape of the Sabine Woman in the National Gallery of Pall Mall. The attitudes and variety of expression in the countenances of the noble captive and the aged father and mother are admirably done; and the posture and fore-shortening of the leg of the richly dressed cavalier, who presents her, are excellent. There is a strong expression of benevolence in the face of Scipio. By his side are the rough soldiers, and, on the other side, the wondering female attendants of the captive. The colouring of the whole is in Rubens' happiest and most masterly style.

No. 160. The exquisite little cabinet picture of the Virgin, by Guido, is of the simplest composition. It consists merely of the Virgin bending over the gorgeous robe which she is embroidering, and angels surrounding her. This splendid and exquisite gem, which was purchased at the late Mr. Purling's sale for 1650 guineas, only fetched 370.

There were besides a splendid Van Huysum, some good paintings by Cuyp, Vandevelde, Rubens, and Correggio. A whole-length portrait of Napoleon, by Lefebre, which sold for 210 guineas; and a Dutch painting, with interesting portraits of the Princes of the House of Nassau, by Mireveldt and Palamedes.

The 15th number of the Views on the Southern Coast of England has just appeared. There are three engravings of Portsmouth, Folkstone, and Deal, from drawings by Turner. Of these, the last is such a wretched engraving that we feel ourselves obliged to give the name of the artist who executed it—Mr. Radclyffe. The vignette of Lulworth Cliffs, engraved by G. Cooke, and etched by Allan, from a drawing by Bout, is a pretty little sketch. On the whole, we think that, like most other publications of this description, its last numbers have greatly degenerated from the first; and when we consider that only fifteen numbers have taken upwards of fourteen years to produce, we think the patience of the public has been pretty well tried. It is but fair to observe, that some of the engravings in this work have been of first rate merit; and beg our readers for illustration of what we say, to refer to the views of Poole in Dorsetshire, the New Stone, Pen-dennis Castle, and Falmouth Harbour.

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Anne Boleyn; a Dramatic Poem, by the Rev. H. H. Milman, Professor of Poetry in the University of Oxford. London: John Murray. 1826. pp. 168.

The language of narrative and of dramatic poetry is no less essentially distinct, than the object which each of them is intended to promote. A story of eventful life, with its successive diversities of action, locality and circumstance,—an expanse of natural scenery, with its gradual transitions of light and shadow, smooth and rugged, must kindle the imagination by a separate yet blended detail of every important feature in the group. The tone of diction must be brilliant in proportion, every artifice of trope and metaphor must be called in aid, every elegance of expression which can allure and captivate the senses. Our fancy must be treated as a child, it must be fed on delicacies, and amused with toys.

But the language of dramatic poetry is directed to the heart, that fretful and capricious tyrant, who is only irritated by indulgence, and should never be accosted but with boldness and resolution. His movements indeed are not unconnected with the imagination, but the sway of the latter over our affections is but seldom practised, and not without peril even when most earnestly and most cautiously exerted. The momentary mood must be studied, interests must be balanced, and opportunities watched: for the feelings of human nature will not readily be tampered with, and it were as reasonable to expect that a tyger might be tamed by the sight of a picture or a bauble, as that the heart of man might be won over by a mere display of fancieul colours and combinations.

The poems of Mr. Milman are, generally, in their structure dramatic; in their language invariably narrative. That is to say, his dialogue is either purely descriptive after the Greek models, or else colloquial in its literal import, but of that inflated tone which accords so little with its proper character, and which has been adopted only by the minor dramatists of the Elizabethan age. His invention is always on tip-toe to grasp what is lofty, or magnify what is mean; for ever labouring after the magnificent, yet effecting only harshness and distortion; even where the words are simple of themselves, they are transposed till they become unnatural; as in the very first scene of the poem before us,

> "Rude though mine ear, it loves
> Thy music, brother."—p. 6.

The inevitable consequence of this elaborate affectation is, the occurrence of many passages in reality poetical, but totally undramatic, and of many others which actually trespass beyond the borders of absurdity. Of the first description, it will suffice to offer the two following examples:

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ANGELO (to Mark and Magdalene Smeaton):
Ye may approach; the youth, or I mistake,
Of whom Saavedra wrote, whose dulcet voice
And skilful handling the sweet lute were fam'd
Through Italy; most fair report, young man,
Hath been thy harbinger.”—p. 15.

The second is addressed to the Queen by her Almoner, who had pleaded his Majesty's displeasure as likely to follow her expensive acts of charity:

“The bounty of the king, Heaven's delegate,
Should be as Heaven's; the Sun, that through the grate
Of some barr'd dungeon lights the pallid cheek
Of the poor prisoner, is a gracious gift;
But that which argues the great God of nature
Is the rich prodigality of light,
That kindles the wide universal sky
And gladdens worlds.”—p. 22.

It may also be worth while to notice as exceptionable, the introduction of an apostrophe to an absent person in the middle of a conversation; this figure is frequently used by Mr. Milman with bad effect, as in Queen Anne's interview with Cranmer, where, in the course of her address to him, she abruptly exclaims:

“Thou, my child, wouldst well rebuke
Thy mother's selfish soul, if she could leave thee
Without a rending of her heart strings; thou
Not less, my mother! most of all, my husband!”—p. 122.

It will serve to shew that vigour is not incompatible with simplicity, and that Mr. Milman himself is not unacquainted with the doctrine, if we extract a few brief passages, which have the effect of nervous animation from their very brevity and simplicity. Towards the close of the first scene, Magdalene, in reference to the Queen, suggests to her brother:

“But, Mark,
Believes she as the church believes?”

MARK.

“I know not
What she believes, I see but what she does.”—p. 10.

In the conversation between Angelo, the Jesuit, and Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester, the latter, referring to the same lady, observes:

“But this Jane Seymour
Is of no better brood.”

MARK.

“What reck we who
Or what she is?”—p. 48.

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retorts the fanatic; who afterwards meeting with Mark in the garden at Westminster, warns him that the king has conceived so deadly a hate against his wife:

“That she must die—

MARK.

“Die, die! no, Sir; no soul
Will load itself with such a deep damnation.”—p. 97.

The repetition of a single word is a well known resource for expressing melancholy or fretfulness, and is successfully attributed to Queen Anne several times in the same scene:

“Away, we are not us'd to order twice;
Away, depart. I am alone, alone!”—p. 55.

and just afterwards, in reply to her mother's solicitations as to the cause of her despondency:

“Nought, nought;—thy story, mother.”—p. 59.

But there are two passages which deserve to be recorded for their eminent simplicity and vigour, though somewhat longer than any of these latter quotations. The first is uttered in soli-tude by the designing Angelo, after his mysterious warning to Mark, that he should take heed of the acquaintance which he had just begun to form with the Queen:

“That warning was a master-stroke; it brings
Th' impossible within the scope of thought;
We do forbid but what may come to pass,
And he will brood on it, because forbidden,
Till his whole soul is madness.”—p. 19.

The other is a dissembled retort of the same person on Gardiner, who had spoken with duplicity of his own episcopal functions, in regard to England's emancipation from the Papal yoke:

ANGELO.

“That Stephen Gardiner owns no power in Rome,
I know, nor yet in England. What cares he
For king or pontiff, so he may maintain
The proud supremacy of Stephen Gardiner?
A second, but a greater Wolsey, thou,
With thine unbounded soul, wouldst rule o'er all,
Church, state, the world.—

GARDINER.

“Italian, thou 'rt too bold,—

ANGELO.

“Too true, good Islander!”—p. 43.

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It seems almost astonishing, that a man who could write thus powerfully, should sink into such absolute bombast, as figures a great portion of Anne Boleyn. Yet, what will the reader say to the following specimens, which might be multiplied far beyond the limits we can allow for this article? The first is, perhaps, as genuine a morsel of bathos as is to be found in the whole poetical literature of the present century:

"Go, coin those wines, barter for homelier cates
Those candied superfluities."—p. 22.

"Thou cool and twilight air,
Thou art a rapture to the breath! the slave,
The beggar, &c.

They may inhale the liquid joy Heav'n breathes,
They may behold the rosy evening sky,
They may go rest," &c.—p. 109.

"—Where the sunshine of Heaven's grace, though cross'd
By hasty clouds of earthly passion, gleams
Upon the golden harvest of good deeds,

It glorifies that sun in humblest thankfulness.

Thee, therefore, amiable prison, thee," &c.—p. 119.

"—Tis but the wise relentlessness of Heaven.

Doth the dread earthquake feel remorse that makes
A populous city one vast tomb, where guilt

And innocence lie side by side? Does pity

Pale the blue cheek of pestilence, that blasts

Whole nations? does the sweeping deluge pause,

And hold suspended it's vast weight of waters,

To give the righteous time to fly the ruin?—p. 130.

"Though their drums roll, and trumpets blare, I'll shriek
The audible truth, and then I'll lay me down

And take my quiet death, my quivering tongue

Still murmuring of her slander'd innocence"—p. 158.

This last circumstance must remind the poetical amateur of a
well known ditty, somewhat verging towards the ludicrous, but
to which the gravity of our present subject permits us not to
make a nearer allusion.

It is, however, on a subject of peculiar nature that Mr. Mil-
man has exhausted his grandest powers of imagination; we
mean his constant descriptions of the occupations of Angels, the
final judgment, and the tortures of the damned. Indeed, it may
be said of the poem under review, that it is all heaven, hell, and
purgatory. There is scarcely a page that does not contain some
such description or allusion, conceived principally with the most
wild and fantastic extravagance. We shall select a few of the
most conspicuous. The first is introduced by some lines of con-
siderable sweetness, and concludes in a burst of downright
school-boy sublimity.

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45

"—A simple fisher boy,

That (who) sail'd the azure tide of that bright bay

That laves the walls of Naples; as he sung,

What time the midnight waves were starr'd with barks,

Each with its single glow-worm lamp, that tipt

The waters round with rippling lines of light,

You would have thought heav'ns queen had strew'd around

Silence, like that among the stars, when pause

The angels in extatic adoration."—p. 6.

"Abstain, th' uncheck'd recoil of our fierce vengeance
Shall sweep you to th' appointed pit of hell."—p. 42.

"I'll do't,

If fiends stand plucking at my soul, and hell

Yawn at my feet! thou, father, thou wilt case

My soul in adamantine resolution."—p. 103.

"The fierce tossings of the infernal pit,
And hell made rich with everlasting souls."—p. 130.

"What is't to thee if the fierce king, &c,

One unhoused heretic more bear down,

His soul all leprous with the gangrene taint,

To burn for endless ages ?"—p. 133.

"Die then, die, lost, accurst for ever!

Go with thy leprous soul unwash'd to hell,

To see what hideous torments wait on perjury."—p. 154.

"Hell has some thrice darkest chamber,

Some outcast dwelling, where the perjur'd hear

The hissing and the execration of the damn'd."—p. 133.

"My soul

Shall sit in judgement when the heavens are fire

Around Christ's burning throne."—p. 141.

"I open

The gates of heaven before thy mounting soul."—p. 153.

"When my soul

Would rise to track the star-light path of her's,

They'll hiss me, howl me down, down, down to blackness,

To horror, now the element of my soul.—p. 156.

"The masses I will pay,* * *

May slake full soon the purgatorial fires,

And gales of Paradise come breathing o'er

His reseued spirit."—p. 160.

E

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THE STAR CHAMBER.

" Stern bell, that summon'st to no earthly temple!
Thou'rt now a worshipper in heaven, my brother.

And thy poetic spirit ranges free
Worlds after worlds, confest the immortal kindred
Of the blest angels; for thy heaven-caught fire
Still like that fire sprang upward, and made pure
Th' infected air of this world as it pass'd."—p. 162.

"It fires beyond our hopes, the sulphurous train
Flames up, they're hurl'd aloft, but not to heaven.
Wake hell, and lift thy gates; and ye that tenant
The deepest, darkest, most infuriate pit,
Th' abyss of all abysses, blackest blackness,
Where that most damning sin, the damning others,
With direst, most remorseless expiation,
Howls out its drear eternity, arouse
The myriad voices of your wailing, loud
As when the fleshly Luther, or the chief
Of his curs'd crew have one by one gone down
To tread your furnace chambers! rise, prepare
The throne of fire, the crown of eating flames!"—p. 84.

Is not this "a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing?" Yet there is one, and one only, of all these astonishing flights, which carries with it some show of rational conception, though even here the commencement is sufficiently turgid:

"I might hurl thee, black with malediction
Where all thy direst visions of remorse,
The racking moments of remember'd crime,
The fangs of conscience tearing at thy heart,
Thy tossing, feverish, spectre-staring midnights,
Would seem remission, peace," &c.—p. 71.

The same distempered idea pervades even some of his comparisons, as where a service readily performed is likened to

"The joy blest angels feel
In ministering to prayers of holiest saints."—p. 10.

There is no point in which Mr. Milman has more uniformly failed than in his similes, on the subject of which he appears to entertain rather heterodox notions. It will be evident that the comparison just quoted is faulty; for if the angels stand in the same situation towards the saints as a queen's servants do to their mistress, the resemblance is too close, and becomes a *parallel* instead of a comparison; but if, as is really the case, their relative offices are totally discordant, there ceases to be any resemblance in the only point where a resemblance could have been admitted,

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47

And now that we are engaged on this matter, it will be well to
notice another error of which Mr. Milman partakes in common
with almost every poet of the present day; we mean, the illus-
tration of what is manifest by a comparison with what is obscure.
The eye is the most perfect of the senses; consequently the ob-
jects it presents will be the most distinct, and incapable of illus-
tration by what can be submitted only to the weaker perceptions.
Still less can any idea reflected on the mind through the imagin-
ation be made illustrative of such as are transmitted to us directly
from our external senses. Take such exemplifications as these;
the mind of a child may be said to expand like a flower; passion
may be said to fluctuate like the waves; old age to fall away like
a ruin; in these instances, objects of sight are introduced to ex-
plain indistinct ideas; but let us transpose the terms of resem-
blance; can a flower be said to expand like the mind of a child?
or the waves of the sea to fluctuate like human passions? or a
ruin to fall away like old age? Surely neither elucidation nor
ornament is attained by such comparisons. But we will borrow
two similes from the present poem, which will sufficiently de-
velope our views:

1. Of a lady's ear;

"The slightest discord jars on it like anguish."—p. 32.

2. The "order" and the "tenets" of Ignatius Loyola are characterized as

"Sublime as that unquestioning devotion
With which God's seraphim perform his mandates—p. 53.

Here is one perhaps of a more equivocal nature :

"Be all mine agency
Secret as are the springs of living fire
In the world's centre."—p. 14.

And the image in the following is perfectly beautiful as well
as correct:

"Fear mantles o'er my soul
As with a prophet's robe.—p. 109."

We cannot refrain from adding one more as somewhat of a
curiosity. Queen Anne is summoning all her resolutions of con-
stancy to her husband, who has deserted her:

"I'll be as one of those sweet flowers that crush'd
By the contemptuous foot, winds (wind ?) closer round it,
And breathes (breathe ?) in every step its (their ?) richest
odours."—p. 67.

We would fain ask what species of flower this may be?

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It might naturally be expected that in a continued exertion to
soar above the common sentiments and common language of
true passion, the poet must occasionally lapse into dulness and
imbecility. If Mr. Milman is exempted from this reproach, it is
not so much from a capability of supporting his impassioned
scenes and elevating those of calmer cast, as from an uniform in-
sanity of idea, sheltered under a gorgeous, but repulsive, pomp
of words; we shall presently take occasion to remark the want
of dignity and impression which characterises the last moments of
Anne Boleyn, merely noticing for the present a few passages in
the earlier scenes which are liable to the same objections. The
jealousy of the queen on the first tokens of intimacy displayed by
her heartless consort, is tame and uninteresting, something like
the occasional puerility, without the softness, of Euripides:

"I saw it,
'Twas no foul vision; with unblinded eyes
I saw it; his fond hands, as once in mine,
Were wreath'd in hers; he gaz'd upon her face
Even with those sorcerous eyes no woman looks at—
I know it, ah! too well, nor madly dote."—p. 56

Both the following quotations are from the queen's interview
with Cranmer in the Tower, a scene to which we shall after-
wards return more particularly:

"(I) felt, admir'd, ador'd the Christian beauty
Of graces that I had no scope to practise."—p. 119.

"My child, my daughter! O prophetic soul!
I dare not trust, yet will not disbelieve
Thy glorious omens.—p. 124.

It were unpardonable to omit one specimen of the favourite
topic treated gently in lieu of the usual symptoms of the terrific:

"For such a life is not that place ordain'd
Where air is fire, life pain, and language howling?"—p. 71.

An affection of prettiness in a playful antithesis or rather
responson of words, if we may be allowed the term, has always
been a favourite amusement with Mr. Milman:

"And all the sweetness of these virgin lips,
And all the pureness of this virgin bosom,
And all the fondness of this virgin heart
Forgotten, turn'd to scorn."—p. 57.

It may appear somewhat fastidious to condemn apparently
a system of rhythm which has prevailed almost as long as lan-

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49

guage itself has existed, and has been in some nations the chief,
if not the only, external symbol of poetical metre. The scanty
knowledge that is yet retained of Hebrew melody proceeds little
further than to a distinction of those metrical antitheses which
almost invariably pervaded it. "In the Hebrew poetry," ob-
serves the learned Bishop Lowth, (we quote from Gregory's
Translation of his Lectures,) "there may be observed a certain
conformation of the sentences, the nature of which is, that a
complete sense is almost equally infused into every component
part, and that every member constitutes an entire verse. So that
as the poems divide themselves in a manner spontaneously into
periods, for the most part equal, so the periods themselves are
divided into verses, most commonly couplets, though frequently
of greater length. This is chiefly observable in those passages
which frequently occur in the Hebrew poetry, in which they
treat one subject in many different ways, and dwell upon the
same sentiment; when they express the same thing in different
words, or different things in a similar form of words; when equals
refer to equals, and opposites to opposites; and since this artifice
of composition seldom fails to produce even in prose an agreeable
and measured cadence, we can scarcely doubt that it must have
imparted to their poetry, were we masters of the versification,
an exquisite degree of beauty and grace. In this circumstance
therefore, which is common to most of the Hebrew poems, we
find, if not a rule and principle, at least a characteristic of the
sacred poetry: insomuch that in that language, the word *mizmor*,
(or *psalm*) according to its etymology, is expressive of a com-
position cut short or divided, in a peculiar manner, into short and
equal sentences."—(Vol. i.: p. 68, edit. 1787). From the insig-
nificant fragments which have been preserved to us of Runic
song, from the supposed structure of the Gaelic, for we can speak
only in hypothesis, and from the decided harmony which per-
vades the Celtic poetry, if the compositions attributed to Ossian
may be brought forward as evidence, little doubt can remain
that the earliest metre of this country partook of a very similar
construction; and although it is seldom to be traced even in the
oldest ballads of our tongue, its revival seems to have commenced
in the fourteen syllable couplet of the 16th century, (which is
however merely the ballad metre in a reformed shape) to have
passed with great energy and effect into the Alexandrines and
decasyllabics of Dryden, and to have been restored almost to its
original cadence and uniformity in the measured prose of Dr.
Johnson. Now it would seem as if Mr. Milman had been struck
with this metrical peculiarity of the Hebrew, which we have
above noticed. But there remain two observations to be made
on the subject. The first may be easily dismissed, as it applies
simply to the necessity of discontinuing the antithesis after a
single repetition. This rule indeed appears so obvious, both from
the natural inclination of the ear, and from the very essence of

50

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an antithesis, that we should scarcely have insisted on it, but
from its having been of late so frequently violated. The other,
which is less obvious, yet not less indispensable, applies to the
admeasurement of sound, that is, the number of syllables which
may be contained in such divisions. It must be understood, that
as soon as the ear is contented with the duration of sound, it
spontaneously pauses, and any further vibration would infallibly
produce fatigue and disgust. So that perhaps the easiest method
of ascertaining this correct proportion will be by examining
the longest line admitted into English verse, (that is, the four-
teen syllable) and observing in what place that natural pause
occurs, which has at a very early period divided the line into
two; for we may reasonably suppose, that so long as the eye
of the reader carries him to a point beyond what he has yet
reached, the ear will not pause until it arrives at that precise
point, beyond which satiety would ensue. And that this is really
the case we are certified by the actual division which does occur
in our longest metre at the 8th syllable, while we know from
constant experience that the natural close does not take place
till the 10th syllable; for it is a very old and very ingenious
remark, that we commonly talk in the heroic measure, and it is
for this reason that the heroic blank verse has been adopted as
the metre for tragedy. If then the ear is really satisfied at the
10th syllable, it will be obvious that an interval of eightylla-
bles is the longest allowable for each member of a metrical an-
tithesis; because if the ear seeks a final pause where the first-
clause of opposition ends, the second clause will obviously lose
in a great measure the force of contradistinction. It will be evi-
dent from these remarks that we consider the ballad metre as the
best of all adapted to give nerve and compass to an antithesis,
and consequently the best fitted for the purposes of satire; and
we hope at no distant period to offer to our readers a practical
argument in favour of that opinion, viz. a genuine Satire in the
old ballad metre. We shall only observe further, that as the alter-
nations of rhyme in short lines keep up a suspense and curiosity
in the attention, so in longer ones they impose on it a listlessness
and indolence, to which the mind can only be reconciled by ex-
treme simplicity and pathos. Perhaps the Elegy of Gray is the
only popular poem in our language composed in alternate deca-
syllabic rhyme. To return then; we have pointed out the want
of effect in the metrical antitheses of Mr. Milman, as well as of
others who have imitated him, and we have endeavoured to ac-
count for the defect on accurate principles of harmony; our so-
lution may be called in question, but the fact itself admits of no
denial.

There are few blemishes which more provokingly disfigure
the poetry of the present day, than a certain sickliness and
whining, mistaken for passion, to which it is no more akin,
than is the emaciated paleness of disease to the solemn compo-

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51

sure of heart-broken affection. Mr. Milman is endowed with
every requisite to shine among these senile sentimentals.
Accordingly we are favoured at every page with that figure of
speech, we know not its name, composed of two substantives, any
two, no matter how like or how unlike, only they must grammati-
cally depend on each other, and if one or both has strength to bear
an epithet, so much the more ornamental. " The horror of deep
darkness;" " the precious treasure of a thought;" " the liquid
deluge of harmony;" " the rapture of deep pity", are all of the
same clan, though differing a little in their forms of connexion.
In another department we have " the viewless Seraphim with
their plumed glories unconfest;" a favourite metaphor by the
bye, with our author; at least it is afterwards repeated with
very interesting additions:

" An angel by Heaven's providence unplum'd,
Lest, weary of this tainting world, she fly
Untimely to her native skies."—p. 79.

But these instances are less to the purpose than the following
passage, which probably would be hugged by many a milliner's
daughter and boardiug-school beauty, as a most refined specimen
of tenderness and passion. Be it observed, that they are the
words of a sober and discreet grandmother over the infant daugh-
ter of Queen Boleyn:

" She sleeps—thyself, dear Anne, not half so lovely;
Come sit by her, and gaze on her, for hours,
For days; a violet on a bed of snow,
A pearl in ivory set, the brightest star
Where all are bright in the soft milky way—
There's no similitude she doth not shame.
Her forehead arch'd by Heaven to fit a crown!
I've almost wish'd thou ne'er shouldst bear a boy,
Dear Anne, to bar her from the throne she's born to.—p. 92.

It would be endless to enumerate the vague and unmeaning
epithets which flock together in these pages; but surely such
feeble expletives as "sweet-languag'd lute," "sweet and par-
donable treason," "snowy, spotless, air-embalming name,"
"blackest branded infamy," "rash harshness," "voiceless elo-
quence," "wayward wantonness," "eyes all gleaming with a
horrid joy," "dear lov'd faces," and a thousand and one be-
sides, as silly and as vulgar, are no better than what a fourth-
form boy, with a Gradus in his hand, would press into the ser-
vice of his Latin exercises, and stand the hazard of a flagella-
tion for his laziness. "Music most unmusical," may perhaps be
allowed as a conceit, but we know not how to compromise
"proud humility," or "the red roaring thunder;" neither will
the "Diva solo fixes" of Virgil reconcile us to "vainly-deaf

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averted ears.” We must also object to a circuitous mode of expression which frequently relaxes the whole strength of the sentence; thus,

“Th’ ill-govern’d features
Play’d traitor to the close-wrapt heart.”—p. 14.

“Thy powers
May bind high-scop’d advancement to thy service.”—p. 16.

“Forces oft a smile
E’en on compassion’s tearful face.”—p. 25.

“When (will) the church
Its pure and virgin whiteness re-array,
And its true sons shake off dissembling darkness?”—p. 54.

“Let who will first cast
The avenging stone and heap the death upon me.”—p. 121.

“I’d trample on thy corpse with merciless heel.”—p. 154.

“They’ll leave
A corner in thy narrow bed, where I
May creep and hide my weary head.”—p. 157.

How completely is this last sentiment, and it is really one of
feeling and elegance, marred and enfeebled by the closing line !
Had the words “for me” been substituted instead of the ten last
syllables, as much would have been added to the force, as would
have been deducted from the verbose enlargement of the excla-
mation. Observe also how easy it is, by the insertion of a few
monosyllables, to enervate Shakspeare, nay, a far higher order
of writer than Shakspeare himself:

“We’ll let slip
Thy own fierce passions, ruthless as the dogs
Of war.”—p. 20.

“They will plead my cause,
And make my enemies kneel at my footstool.”—P. 96.

There are some few instances of obscurity, some few of quaint-
ness, several of doubtful English, and more than one of deci-
dedly bad grammar. “Sunless of her presence,” and to “peril
the eternal soul,” grate rather harshly on the ear; but what
shall we say to

“Such a wretch, a death-doom’d wretch, as *me*”—p. 110.

“Some idle words that spoken
By less than *me*, had been forgotten air?”—p. 144.

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These proceed with indifferent grace from an Oxford Professor. We must also cry out, once for all, against the eternal repetition of “fond” and such other mannerisms, the affected hankering after superlative degrees, the use of the particle “the” before indefinite nouns, as “the death,” “the wrath,” &c.—the resolution of past times into “did,” and the present tense,—and the unnecessary confusion of “thee” and “thine,” with “you” and “your.” All these are but minute faults of themselves, but when they spring up before us at every step, it is time to enter a formal protestation to oppose them. As an instance of confused metaphors, we must adduce Angelo’s soliloquy at sight of Lady Rocheford:

“In that proud prelate’s heart a noble chord
I touch’d, now harp we on a baser string.”—p. 68.

Unless perchance the word *baser* is either a pun or a misprint
for *basser*.

We may be thought to have criticised the language of this
poem too scrupulously; but it is in language principally that
its author has set a bad example, and has been but too exten-
sively followed. Precisely the same errors pervade all Mr. Mil-
man’s published works; and if his poetical character is now to be
finally set at rest, that branch of it which, in most writers forms half
the claim to celebrity, and much more than half in the author before
us, cannot be too narrowly scrutinized.

Of the outline of this play little need be said either in appro-
bation or in censure; where the characters are all either so very,
very abandoned, that no one can participate in their designs of
wickedness, or else so very, very strange, that no adequate motive
can be assigned for their conduct, whether upright or dishonest,
it is not likely that we should feel much interested in the progress
of the plot. What could have given rise to the violent passion of
Mark Smeaton for his queen and mistress? Hear his own words:

“She sent for me, she made me sit before her.
As my hand trembled on my lute, she smil’d
With gracious playfulness—Oh!” &c.—p. 74.

In fact there is not one single personage in the whole drama,
who has any claim to our solicitude. Anne Boleyn is, like all
other stage-ladies, very beautiful, and very affectionate, and suf-
ficiently well-bred for a knight’s daughter of the sixteenth cen-
tury, but no more resembling the sprightly, whimsical, and
laughter-loving queen of Henry VIII., than did her stately
daughter, the good queen Elizabeth. Henry the VIIIth. is drawn
in the broad outline of a capricious and domineering tyrant, but
there is little of light and shadow thrown over the rough sur-
face; Gardiner is a bigot, Angelo a fanatic, Lord Rocheford a

F

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THE STAR CHAMBER.

tender brother, and Mark Smeaton a romantic mad-cap; but
surely these are not characters; for how few are they whose
dispositions are entirely absorbed by the interests of one parti-
cular pursuit, humour, or inclination!

Mr. Milman has usually excelled in his dramatic Hymns, the
very coinage of which indeed seems to have become his own
property. His gorgeous language is never better accommodated
than in these odes, and some of those in the Jerusalem are quite
super-excellent in their way. But the Protestant's Hymn to the
Virgin, the only one which occurs in the present poem, must
he looked upon as a complete failure. It is awkwardly intro-
duced, and the subject is strikingly unfavourable, being nothing
less than a laborious argument against the Virgin's divinity.
There are besides many expressions highly objectionable in these
few stanzas, as in the following lines:

"Till blazing forth above, beneath, around,
Rolls the full organ's never-ceasing sound."—p. 33.

Besides such as "th' acclaiming spheres," "the musical and
peopled air," the bosom's "pillow'd charge," "ruddy blood,"
&c. &c. &c. How vain moreover is the elaborate attempt to
describe the welcome which may be supposed to have awaited
the Redeemer's return, after he had arisen from the earth, and
in the brief but expressive language of the Evangelist, a cloud
had received him out of their sight!

"But when Death's conqueror from the tomb return'd,
Was thine the heart that at his voice ne'er burn'd ?
Follow'd him not thy constant sight
Slow melting in Heaven's purest white,
To take his ancient endless seat on high,
On the right hand of parent Deity ?
And when thy earthly pilgrimage was ended,
We deem not but that circled round
With ringing harps of Heaven's most glorious sound,
Thy spirit, redeem'd through thy Son's blood ascended;
There evermore in lowliest loftiness,
Meek thou admirest how that living God,
That fills the heavens and earth, in thee abode,
Mary, we yield to thee
All but idolatry;
We gaze, admire, and wonder, love and bless :
Pure, blameless, holy, every praise be thine,
All honour save thy Son's, all glory but divine."—p. 40.

The double epithet, in the fifth line of the above quotation,
may be considered happy, as well as the two lines at the com-
mencement of the hymn, descriptive of a Roman Catholic altar.

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55

"Where silver bells are faintly ringing,
And odorous censers lightly swinging."—p. 83.

The scene between Angelo and Gardiner is one of the best,
though very inferior to what it might have been made under
more powerful hands. Who would have supposed that the fol-
lowing lines were intended to convey an idea of that exquisite,
yet stupendous, structure, the cathedral of Winchester? The
words are addressed to Gardiner:

"Thou, Winchester, in marble cemetery,
Where thy cathedral roof, like some rich grove,
Spreads o'er, and all the walls with scutcheons blaze,
Shalt lie."—p. 50.

But the two following passages may be extracted, as among
the finest in the volume, though the epithet "anthem'd" in the
first line is evidently objectionable:

"While anthem'd choirs and pealing organs,
And incense clouds, and a bright heaven of lamps,
Shall solemnize thy gorgeous obsequies;
O'er my unsepulchred and houseless bones,
Cast on the barren beach of the salt sea,
Or arid desert, where the vulture flaps
Her dreary wings, shall never wandering priest
Or bid his beads or say one passing pray'r.
Thy memory shall live in this land's records
While the sea girds the isle; but mine shall perish
As utterly as some base beggar's child
That unbaptiz'd drops like abortive fruit
Into unhallow'd ground."—p. 51.

"On the altar of my God
I've laid a nobler sacrifice, a soul
Conscious it might have compass'd empire: this
I've done; and in no brief and frantic fit
Of youthful lust ungratified, in the hour
Of disappointed pride."—p. 52.

In both the scenes where Henry makes his appearance he
manifests a degree of bluntness and obstinacy, which may be
contrasted favourably with the childlessness of other passages;
but as the conversation is consequently more connected, and
the better passages are scattered more at random, we shall refer
the reader to the original instead of partially extracting from it.

The queen's apprehension and dismissal to the Tower are
managed with considerable discernment. Her explanation to
her mother on the intrusion of Kingston and the guard is natural
and eloquent:

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"Dear mother—back—go back—the king
Willing to do your daughter honour, sends
Good Kingston and his guard."—p. 93.

But the effect is literally spoilt by the self-reproach which immediately ensues:

"God pardon me
The first untruth that e'er defil'd my lips."—p. 93.

Her address to her mother and defiance of Kingston are perhaps the very best things Mr. Milman has ever written; there is a truth and feeling about them, which remind us of the good old English drama:

"Oh mother! mother! that the time should come
When I should wish thee in thy quiet grave!
My child, that I should wish thee yet unborn!
Shall I find justice, Sir?

KINGSTON.

"The meanest subject
In all the realm could not impeach the equity
Of the king's grace with such a dangerous doubt.
Your highness! (Queen bursts into laughter.)

QUEEN.

"Start ye thus to see me laugh?
There's laughter that is grief's most bitter language,
Laughter that hath no mirth, and such is mine.
Lieutenant of the Tow'r, I tell thee this;
I've done, Sir, in my days some good through Christ;
If they misjudge my cause, yea, but a jot,
The fiery indignation from above
Shall blast the bosom of this land, the skies
Shall be as brass, nor rain nor drop of dew
Shall moisten the adust and gaping earth."—p. 93.

In the interview of Cranmer with the Queen during her imprisonment is a feeble attempt to describe a country parson's life, and a sly word put in for Oxford retirement:

"The grove
That bosoms deep the calm and thoughtful college.—p. 123.

which, if it were English, might be construed as a plain and wilful misrepresentation of the scenes of academical tumult and debauchery. The letter of the Queen is a very close paraphrase of the original, but such paraphrases are seldom productive of effect.

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57

The trial is of itself so revolting from our best feelings, that it ought never to have been introduced; in point of poetic excellence, what can excite our admiration after that wonderful and familiar scene in Shakspeare, the condemnation of Anne Boleyn's predecessor? The concluding scenes decline considerably below mediocrity, and forcibly illustrate our former remark, that Mr. Milman has no soul for simple and dignified passion. Nothing can exceed the ludicrous effect of the following enumeration of the king's former bounties to his wife. But first let us turn to the original words as preserved by Hume:—

"From a private gentlewoman he had made her a marchioness, then a queen, and now, since he could raise her no higher in this world, he was sending her to be a saint in Heaven."—Hume's *Hist. of Engl. Chap.* 31, Anno, 1536.

These words, so truly according with the playful and affec-
tionate spirit of Boleyn even in her last moments, are thus "en-
larged and improved" in Mr. Milman's edition:

"There is no end
Of the unexhausted bounties of the king;
He made me first the marchioness of Pembroke,
Duchess of Dorset, then his scepter'd queen;
And now a new advancement he prepares me,
One of Heaven's angels."—p. 164.

We shall omit her comparison of sleep and death, an old, but always poetical idea, spoilt in this place by the affectation of the language; and pass at once to her final speech on the scaffold, in which, after admonishing the spectators to

"Adore the hidden secrets of his [the king's] justice
As they would Heaven's,"—p. 167.

she concludes her imperfect petitions in these precise words :

"Now, God bless the king,
And make his gospel shine throughout the land !"—p. ult.

On the poetical merits of this play, and on the poetical character of its author in general, we have now expressed ourselves freely and impartially. But there is another point to which we are compelled to advert in a tone of severe reprobation. Whatever apology may be offered, that these scenes were written with a reference to those times alone when the events actually occurred, it is impossible not to feel that they bear a strong allusion to controversies of the deepest import at this very hour. The violence of those disputes, even had they now recurred unexpectedly, should have prevented a Christian minister from composing a poem of this character; or, if already written, should have deterred him from publishing it. But in truth the flame of religious animosity, though smothered perhaps for a season, hath never

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been quenched; and prudence, as well as piety, suggests that its
ashes should not be needlessly stirred up. Shame on us, that
the spirit of bigotry and intolerance should have pervaded the
schemes of the statesman and the ambition of priesthood, to
force its way at last into the fictions of our poets! This is not a
fit place for us to balance the political pretensions of the rival
creeds; nor is it in the calculations of men to predict whether
the church we have ever supported, and are ever ready to sup-
port with the utmost strength that God shall vouchsafe to us,
be the last and best that shall flourish upon earth, or whether a
more perfect worship in a purer form shall one day be established
for our posterity. But of thus much we are thoroughly con-
vinced, that the triumphant march of Christianity can never be
promoted by those virulent hostilities, which are directly at war
with the primitive spirit of its doctrines and intentions.

ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS.

H. W. D. must excuse us while we have such a press of urgent matter on our hands, that we are compelled to issue double numbers; in the autumn we shall be happy to hear from him, and meanwhile have entered his name in the red book with a single star.

An Annotator is thanked for his remarks, though there is nothing in them.

A "Friend of the Family" is recommended to mind his spelling.

ADVERTISEMENTS.

CIRCULATING LIBRARY, 167, New Bond Street.—J. ANDREWS
begs to announce to his Subscribers and the Public, that he has now ready for
delivery (gratis) a large SUPPLEMENTARY CATALOGUE, containing
an additional selection of valuable Books, and all the New Publications to
the present time. He embraces this opportunity of conveying his grateful
thanks to his numerous Subscribers, for their very liberal support to this
and every department of his business, and to assure them that neither ex-
pense nor attention shall be spared to deserve a continuance of their kind-
ness. All the New Publications in every department of Literature, English
and Foreign, no matter how expensive, are added to the Library as soon as
published. Persons in town or country wishing to subscribe, may have the
Catalogues sent them, on application to the Library.

Just Published,

A TREATISE on the GAME of CHESS, by GIACHINO GRECO; trans-
lated from the French. To which are added, numerous Remarks, critical
and explanatory, by W. LEWIS, Author of several Publications on the
Game. Printed for W. Marsh, 145, Oxford Street.

London: Published by W. MARSH, 145, Oxford Street, where Advertisements and Communications addressed (free of postage) to the Editor, may be left. Printed by B. JOHNSON, 2, Herbert's Passage, Beaufort Buildings, Strand.

THE STAR CHAMBER.

No. 4.]

WEDNESDAY, MAY 3d, 1826.

[Price 6d.

"He would diverse times goe into the Star Chamber, as occasion would serve:
there he spared neither high nor lowe, but judged every estate according to his
merits and deserts."
CAVENDISH'S LIFE OF WOLSEY.

LADY DAVY'S DIARY.

PARIS, July 12.—"*Le suprême bonheur*" may be found every evening from nine to ten in a walk along the Boulevards, or a ramble through the Champs Elysées; and from ten to twelve in a "salon" at Tortoni's. "*L'art de bien conter*" is still a Frenchman's most admired talent. Our handsome and interesting beau, Edmonde, piques himself on this accomplishment, and is a "conteur" by profession.

27th.—A conversation with S** always leaves me sad. Can it, then, be possible that he is right? No, oh, no! my understanding rejects the idea with indignation,—my whole heart recoils from it; yet, if it should be so!—what then?—have I been till now the dupe of fictitious feelings? Virtue, honour, feeling, generosity, you are then but words—signifying nothing! Yet, if this vain philosophy lead to happiness, would not S** be happy? It is evident he is not. S**, in spite of myself, and in spite of all that with most perverted pains he has made himself, (so different from what he once was)—can charm and interest, pain and perplex me: not so D**, another disciple of the same school; he inspires me with the strongest antipathy I ever felt for a human being.

September 3.—A terrible anniversary at Paris; ill and very weak. Edmonde came, "pour me desenuyer;" he has soul enough to bear a good deal of wearing down. But whether the fine qualities he possesses will turn to good or evil, is hard to tell. It is evident his character has not yet settled; it vibrates still as nature inclines him to good, and all the circumstances around him to evil: we talked, as usual, of women, of gallantry, &c.—with great feeling, animation, and dramatic effect.

4th.—To retrieve my lost reputation, I sat down to read "*Le Solitaire*."

8th.—Our French friend Lucien has, at fifteen, the air and conversation of a finished gentleman; and our English friend C** is, at eighteen, the veriest log of a lumpish schoolboy that ever entered a room.

GENEVA, October 3.—Took a boat and rowed on the lake for about two hours. Our boatman, a fine, handsome, athletic figure, was very talkative and intelligent. He had been in the service of Lord Byron, and was with him in that storm between Le Meillerie and St. Gingough, which is described in the third canto of Childe Harold. He pointed out among the beautiful villas which adorn the banks on either side, that in which the Empress Josephine had resided for six months not long before her death.

B

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When he spoke of her, he rested upon his oars to descant upon her virtues, her generosity, her affability, her goodness to the poor; and his countenance became quite animated with enthusiasm. Here in France whenever the name of Josephine is mentioned, there seems to exist but one feeling, one opinion of her beneficence and *amabilité* of character. Our boatman had also rowed Marie Louise across the lake on her way to Paris. He gave us no very captivating picture of her. He described her as "grande, blonde, bien faite, et extremité fière." M. le Baron, whom we knew at Paris, told me several delightful anecdotes of Josephine.

Friday.—Wrote a copy of verses on Mr. Barker's Panorama, Leicester Fields, with an incidental apostrophe to Genius, Worth, and Wisdom.

*Eleven at night*.—Ah! let me remember the lesson of resignation I have lately learned; and, by elevating my thoughts to a better world, turn to look upon the miserable affections which have agitated me here, as ****. Could I but become as insensible, as regardless of the painful past, as I am of the all-lovely present! Why was I proud of my victory over passion? Alas! what avails it that I have shaken the viper from my hand, if I have no miraculous antidote against the venom which has mingled with my life-blood, and clogged the pulses of my heart!

MILAN, *October* 9.—In the first church we visited I saw a young girl, respectably, and even elegantly, dressed in the beautiful costume of the Milanese, who was kneeling on the pavement before a crucifix, weeping bitterly, and, at the same time, fanning herself most vehemently with a large green fan. The church of St. Alessandro was oddly decorated for a Christian temple,—a statue of Venus stood on one side of the porch,—a statue of Hercules on the other. The two divinities, whose attributes could not be mistaken, had been converted from heathenism into two very respectable saints; I forget their Christian names.

10th.—At the Scala last night; the opera stupid, but the new ballet, *Didone Abandonata*, amply indemnified us, and left us nothing to regret. The celebrated cavern scene, in the fourth book of Virgil, is rather closely copied in an inimitable *pas de deux*; so closely indeed, that I was considerably alarmed pour les bienseances: but little Ascanius, who is asleep in a corner, (Heaven knows how he came there!) wakes at the critical moment, and the impending catastrophe is averted. I observed that, when this scene came on, the curtains in front of the boxes were withdrawn; the whole audience, who seemed to be expecting it, was hushed; the deepest silence, the most delighted attention, prevailed during its performance; and the moment it was over, a third of the spectators departed. I am told this is always the case, and that, in almost every *ballet d'action*, the public are gratified by a scene, or scenes, of a similar tendency. The second time I saw the Didone, my attention, in spite of the fascination

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61

of the scene, was attracted towards a box near us, which was occupied by a noble English family just arrived at Milan. In the front of the box sat a beautiful girl, apparently not fifteen, with laughing lips and dimpled cheeks; the very personification of blooming, innocent, *English* loveliness. I watched her (I could not help it, when my interest was once awakened) through the whole scene. I marked her increased agitation; I saw her cheeks flush, her eyes glisten, her bosom flutter, as if with sighs I could not overhear, till at length overpowered with emotion, she turned away her head, and covered her eyes with her hand.

BRESCIA ought to be immortalized in the history of my travels; for there, stalking down the Corso—*le nez en l'air*—I met my acquaintance L**., from whom I had last parted on the pavé of Piccadilly. I remember that, in London, I used to think him not remarkable for wisdom, and his travels have infinitely improved him—in folly. For all that, L** is not unbearable—not *yet* at least.

VENICE, *October* 25.—After dinner I had a chair placed on the balcony of our inn, and sat for some time contemplating a scene altogether new and delightful. The poetry, the romance of the place, stole upon me unawares. I fell into a reverie, in which visionary forms and recollections gave way to dearer and sadder realities, and my mind seemed no longer in my own power. I called upon the lost, the absent, to share the present with me; I called upon past feelings to enhance that moment's delight. I did *wrong*—and memory avenged herself as usual. I quitted my seat on the balcony—and so passed my first evening at Venice.

27th.—My stay at Venice has been rendered most agreeable by the kindness of Mr. H***, in whose society I have spent much of the last few days.* One of our pleasantest excursions was to the American convent of St. Lazaro, where we were received by Fra Pasquale, an accomplished and intelligent monk, and a particular friend of Mr. H***. Here we admired the beautiful little tame gazelle which bounded through the corridors, and were politely refreshed with most delicious sweetmeats and coffee.

29th.—A little while ago Captain F*** lent me D’Israeli’s Essay on the Literary Character, which had once belonged to Lord Byron, and contained marginal notes in his hand-writing. The public gardens contain the only trees I ever saw in Venice. I here found a solitary gentleman who was sauntering up and down with his hands in his pockets, and a look at once stupid and disconsolate. He paused, looked vacantly over the waters, whistled, yawned, and turned away to resume his solemn walk.

* It was scarcely fair of Lady Davy to introduce her Venetian acquaintance Mr. H*** upon the English stage a few years since; the play, however, was *damned*; and Mr. II*** (to use a vulgarism for the sake of a pun) "saved his bacon."

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FLORENCE, Sunday.—Samuel Rogers paid us a long visit this morning. I felt suffocated, feverish, and my head ached. **** He does not look as if the suns of Italy had revivified him; but he is as amiable and amusing as ever. He talked long "et avee beaucheoup d'offition;" and, while the rest walked, I spread my shawl upon the bank, and basked like a lizard in the sunshine.

ROME, December 27.—At the church of the Ara Celi, which was crowded to suffocation. I stood in the back-ground, supported on one of the long-legged chairs which V*** placed for me against a pillar, till the heat overcame me, and I was obliged to leave the church.

January 7.—In the evening we had a gay party of English and foreigners: among them * * * * *

14th.—Climbed up the western side of the Coliseum at the imminent hazard of my neck, and looking down through a gaping aperture, on the brink of which I had accidentally seated myself, I saw, in the colossal corridor far below me, a young artist, who, as if transported out of his senses by delight and admiration, was making the most extraordinary antics and gestures; sometimes he clasped his hands, then extended his arms, then stood with them folded as in deep thought; now he snatched up his portfolio, as if to draw what so much enchanted him, then threw it down and kicked it from him as if in despair. I never saw such admirable dumb-show; it was better than pantomime. At last, however, he happened to cast up his eyes, as if appealing to Heaven, and they encountered mine peeping down upon him from above. He stood fixed and motionless for two seconds staring at me, and then, snatching up his portfolio and his hat, ran off and disappeared. I met the same man afterwards walking along the Via Felice, and could not help smiling as he passed; he smiled too, but pulled his hat over his face, and turned away.

NAPLES, February 7.—Last night I visited the theatre of San Carlo; it did not strike me as equal to the Scala at Milan. The beautiful classical ballet of "Niobe and her Children" would have appeared nothing short of perfection had I not seen the "Didone Abbandonata" at Milan. But they have no actress here like the graceful, the expressive Pallerine,—nor any actor equal to the Æneas of the Scala. Salvador, our guide up Mount Vesuvius, assured me that he corresponds with Sir Humphry Davy.

Good-Friday.—I do long so inexpressibly for some one to talk to—to exclaim to—to help me to wonder, to admire, to be extase! Fratino is by far the most beautiful creature of his sex I ever saw! * * * * *

[TO BE FREQUENTLY CONTINUED.]

THE STAR CHAMBER.

63

TOWN IDYLLS. No. I.

HOWELL AND JAMES'S.

SCENE—The Countess of Violet's carriage built by Leader,—painted super-fine chromer yellow,—arms and coronet by Willemet, heraldic painter to his Majesty,—liveries, by Schroeder, violet with silver epaulettes, —canes amber-headed.

HILARY DART.

I cannot sufficiently admire that pelisse, Lady Violet: who had the honour of its conception ?

COUNTESS OF VIOLET.

Oh! this is Parisian—by Madame Houchez: you know her? She makes for the Duchess of Berri and all the royal family.

MRS. HARRY EGLANTINE.

Why there is Lady Papillon, Isabella! I thought she was not in town.

COUNTESS OF VIOLET.

That was the reason she gave for not being at Almack's on Wednesday. I have her note here.

MRS. HARRY EGLANTINE.

And yet Bertschicoff was there !

COUNTESS OF VIOLET.

When did you ever know Bertschicoff miss Almack's?

MRS. HARRY EGLANTINE.

I think Horace Granby was with Lady Papillon. I must remember to get his novel. Let us call at Colburn's as we return.

HILARY DART.

Here we are at Howell's already. I rely, Mrs. Eglantine, upon your presenting me with a bunch of savon.

MRS. HARRY EGLANTINE.

If I see a very pretty, clustering bunch of grapes, you shall have it—not otherwise. I keep to the letter of the bet.

HILARY DART.

Oh! no; it was a bunch—a bunch,—you said nothing about clustering or pretty. I protest—I protest. I appeal to the Countess.

COUNTESS OF VIOLET.

What did you bet about ?

HILARY DART.

The length of Fanfaron's whiskers.

COUNTESS OF VIOLET.

Pretty angel! how long do you say they are ?

MRS. HARRY EGLANTINE.

Oh! mind we ask to see mouchoirs with stamped borders. I've quite raved ever since I saw Lady Caroline's.

FIRST COMMISSIONER OF THE HABERDASHER DEPARTMENT.

The handkerchiefs with the stamped borders. Yes, Ma'am, I assure you, quite the fashion; but would you just allow me to show you this plaid?

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THE STAR CHAMBER,

COUNTESS OF VIOLET.

Oh! no, no plaids. Do you know, Charlotte, when I gave my last order to Houchez, she had a beautiful Persian plaid-satin,— each of the royal family had, I remember, two dresses of it,—and it became in consequence so much the rage that, I assure you, it's quite exploded. Really, Mrs. Harry, don't let him show you the plaid.

HILARY DART.

Let me draw your attention to this *barege*. Are not the colours superb? It really quite beats the *arc-en-ciel* ribbons which your ladyship brought from Paris.

AN UNKNOWN AND PORTLY WOMAN SPEAKETH.

Oh! never mind the expense,—send it home—send it home immediately, with the French Clock, and the Sevre Vases, and the Eau de Cologne, and the Diamond Bracelets, which they will give you in the other shop. Send them home immediately.

MRS. HARRY EGLANTINE.

Who is that horrid woman ?

FRIST COMMISSIONER OF THE HABERDASHERY DEPARTMENT.
Mrs. Mordecai Scrip, Ma'am.

MRS. HARRY EGLANTINE.

Oh! Mrs. Mordecai Scrip! Just the person I wanted to see! how rich she must be, Isabella !

HILARY DART.

Yes! I declare her poodle sports a diamond necklace.

COUNTESS OF VIOLET.

Oh! don't look at that, Mrs. Harry. I assure you *couleur de Jocko* must not be thought of,—nor can I speak very favourably of the myrtle green, and *terre d'Egypte*. Confine yourself to mixtures of violet, rose, and straw.

MRS. HARRY EGLANTINE.

Now, Isabella, have *soufflé* gauze for the interior lining of your bonnet-strings. Now do favour me. I'm sure it will become! What could have induced you to think otherwise? Don't you approve of the *soufflé* gauze for the interior lining, Mr. Dart?

HILARY DART.

No question—nothing else is endurable. I *must* wear gowns, if it is only for the pleasure of having a coral-pattern flounce embroidered with gold thread. When your ladyship has made up your mind about those flowers, come into the next room, I want to show you an enamel of Rubens.

COUNTESS OF VIOLET (examining an artificial wreath).

Do you advise me, Charlotte?

MRS. HARRY EGLANTINE (in a whisper).

No! no! never buy a flower here—the only place for artificial flowers is Foster's, in Wigmore Street.

HILARY DART.

Now, is not this enamel beautiful? It is in *chiar-oscuro*. Sir Peter Paul looks quite magnificent.

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THE STAR CHAMBER.

COUNTESS OF VIOLET.

Oh! delicious! I must have it for my *boudoir*. How delicately the *moustache* is finished.

MRS. HARRY EGLANTINE.

What is the price of this gold necklace ?

FIRST COMMISSIONER OF THE JEWELLERY AND
PERFUMERY DEPARTMENT.

Which one, Madam ?

MRS. HARRY EGLANTINE.

The one with the cross set with rubies and pearls.

One hundred and eighty-five guineas, Ma'am.

HILARY DART.

I don't patronize crosses. Drops are the only thing. I am sick of crosses. We have Maltese crosses, and Jerusalem crosses, and Juggernaut crosses, and a thousand others. Let me recommend the carbuncle drop set in gold.

COUNTESS OF VIOLET.

Oh! this is the sweetest Swiss bracelet I ever saw.

Just arrived, Ma'am, from the first house in Berne.

COUNTESS OF VIOLET.

Oh! I must have it—I do admire the Swiss so. Such a grand people, so fond of mountains, and liberty, and waterfalls! and William Tell, too, quite a hero—quite a Duke of Wellington for those times—great people! I must have the bracelet!

(Enter Mr. Babel with a folio under his arm.)

HILARY DART.

Ah! Babel, what could possibly bring you here?

BABEL.

Heaven knows, my dear Dart. Where am I? I have just left Evans's quite delighted with my purchase—was walking to Albany as fast as I possibly could, when, lo! I find myself in a strange place, surrounded with pocket handkerchiefs, poodles, and perfumery !

HILARY DART.

Lucky for you absent men, that you can find a friend in need. This is Howell and James's, the easiest and pleasantest place in Christendom to spend an income in. Allow me to recommend to you this diamond snuff-box! What may I send you home, most learned Trojan?—a couple of Sevre Vases for your cigars, or a French Clock, or an ivory card-case, or a couple of perfume bottles of clouded glass?

BABEL (*earnestly*).

Show me my way out, my dear fellow, that's all I want.

HILARY DART.

You can't miss it,—to your left.

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THE STAR CHAMBER.

COUNTESS OF VIOLET.

Well, I'll take those charades en action; and now let us be
going.

(A loud shriek.)

MRS. HARRY EGLANTINE.

Good heavens! What's the matter?

HILARY DART.

What should be? Babel's in the ladies' retiring-room!

The Diary of an Ennuyée was printed originally for Mr. Robert Thomas, of Charles Street, under the title of "A Lady's Diary." Mr. Colburn got hold of the volume, changed its name, and added half-a-crown to its intended price; but, unhappily, had let some four-score copies steal abroad, before he discovered that his printer had substituted the word "Dairy" for "Diary"—Dairy for an Ennuyée!—what a pity so piquant a title was ever altered!

"That Mr. Phillips has the finest bass voice in England," said the Duke of — a few nights ago to Sir — at the Argyll Rooms, "and I am told he got it all of a sudden, to the great astonishment of his friends as well as himself." "Impossible," retorted the Baronet, "Nemo repente fuit turpissimus," as the classics say.

The paintings now exhibiting at the Diorama in Paris are, a
view of the environs of Paris by Bouton, and an effect of snow
and fog by M. Daguerre.

ORAMAS.—There is at present exhibiting at Caen a spectacle called the *Universorama*. Of the precise nature and subjects of this curious exhibition we have not yet been able to obtain a very accurate description, but it seems that all the quarters of the world are included in the representations. But the great point of attraction to the wondering provincials is the portable gas with which it is illuminated, and which induces great crowds of persons to visit it.

The first representation of the long-expected ballet of M. Blache, "Les Filets de Vulcain," has been again put off. It seems to be looked forward to with as much anxiety by the *conoscenti* of Paris, as the splendid ballet of "La Naissance de Venus" was by those of London. We hope that it will prove equally worthy of the expectations which have been raised concerning it.

In the absence of Madame Pasta, we find that her place is very unequally filled at the Italian Opera of Paris by Madame Schia-setti. Weber's famous opera of Der Frieschütz, or *Robin des Bois*, is still occasionally repeated at the Odeon at Paris.

The late Mr. Perry's collection of Political Pamphlets was purchased at Evans's, a few days since, by Mr. Hallam for £125. They were sold to Mr. Thorpe from the same auction room in 1822, together with two other similar collections in French and English, on the subject of the French Revolution.

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NOTES ON THE BUBBLE MEMBERS;

Very profitable to be read by all classes of his Majesty's subjects previous
to the General Election.

Fourteen months have elapsed since one of the ablest of our
periodical prints, the John Bull, very acutely requested the
public to consider, whether gentlemen, who were at the same
time Directors of Mining Companies, Pawnbroking Societies,
Rail Road Associations, &c. &c. &c.—could possibly “ do justice
either to the schemes, or to themselves.” Since this appeal was
made, it has been discovered, that there has been no difficulty in the
Honourable Directors “ doing justice to the schemes,” inasmuch
as it is now notorious that there never was any serious intention
of carrying into effect any of the objects proposed; whether the
Honourable Directors have “ done justice to themselves,” is ano-
ther question, and one which we would, at this crisis, submit to
the British nation. Is *Imperial-Continental-Gas-Matthias Att-
wood, or Arigna-Brogden, or Great-Westminster-Dairy-Bent*,
to continue to have the power of legislating for the people of
Great Britain? Is *Metropolitan-Marine-Bath-Congreve* still to
catch the Speaker's eye,—or *Anglo-Mexican-Marjoribanks* to
pair off with *British-Annuity-Barrett*?

Mr. Attwood and Mr. Brogden are certainly the Castor and
Pollux of these M. P. milkmen. It will indeed be a proud day
for the independent electors of Callington and Launceston, when
their votes are again solicited by those mighty pluralists of pre-
miums, their present representatives. In three months time—
hear the astonishing fact, oh! ye people of England—your votes
are to be solicited by two gentlemen who are, one or other of
them, Chairman, Director, or Auditor, of the following flourishing
Associations:

Equitable Loan Bank Company.

Irish Provincial Bank Company.

London and Birmingham Railway Company.

Imperial Continental Gas Company.

Anglo-Mexican Minin' Association.

Colombian Mining Association.

Pelican Insurance Office.

British Copper Mining Company.

Hibernian Mining Company.

General Steam Navigation Company.

Australian Agricultural Company.

Protector Fire Insurance Company.

ARIGNA Iron and Coal Company!!!

Russia Company.

Eastland Company.

Waterloo Bridge Company.

Rock Life Assurance Company.

Surrey, Sussex, and Hants Rail-Road Company.

United General Gas Company!!!

c

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THE STAR CHAMBER.

We have received the *authenticated* account of Mr. Potter MacQueen, M. P. and a beautiful narrative it is; but our fourth query must be answered *definitively*, before we publish this history of the dignified and honourable conduct of a British Senator.

We have received the proposition for calling a meeting of the creditors of the Earl of Liverpool and Earl Grey. It appears that both of these eminent statesmen are directors of two magnificently-promising Joint Stock Companies, and that a very unsatisfactory answer is returned to our correspondent, "an unhappy shareholder," who wishes for some little account of the deposits which he has paid upon his shares in the "Colombian Pearl Fishery Company," and in the "British Silk Company."

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

## THE LADIES OF LYONS AND THEIR GREEK COMMITTEES.

The ladies of Lyons have issued a very poetical and interesting circular, begging their fellow citizens to make perambulations in quest of contributions for the cause of the Greeks. It is full of the prettiest metaphors and the most touching appeals to the passions of pity and religious enthusiasm.

It will be seen by this, that the female part of the population of Lyons is still determined to sustain their reputation for sublime political interference. These refined dames in the time of the Revolution made themselves particularly conspiruous by leading on the infuriated rabble, and bearing the standards, which, in those days, were usually the bloody heads of some of their victims. Then also their girdles might have vied with that of Paul Jones in the number of pistols and butchers' knives which they bore, and which these martial *Lyonnaises* used with considerable readiness. But now we behold them in quite a different capacity: they plead the cause of slaves against their masters, of the Greeks against the Mussulmans. They call on their countrymen to rescue the aged from slavery, the young men from the cruelty of their enemies, and the helpless virgins from dishonour! And these are the people, whose favourite cry was "*a la lunterne*,"—whose songs always rhymed with "*canon*,"—and whose beverage was a nectar composed of blood, wine, and gunpowder! What wonderful changes are perpetually wrought as well in the characters, as in the position, of nations! These very Greeks, who are now the objects of so much commiseration, whose Missolonghi bids fair to rival Saragossa, and whose fireships and pirate vessels are talked of as though they were a second fleet of Salamis, are, after all, a set of miserable rebels. Or put them in a better point of view, compare them with the Americans when they threw off the yoke of England: we were not particularly well pleased with the French, or the assistance which they so kindly gave to the oppressed

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States. It is an extraordinary feature in the history of the last century, that nations, some long free, but then first oppressed, and others struggling for their liberty after ages of slavery, have been alternately patriotically supported and miserably suffered to perish. With what energy, with what firmness, was the Spanish nation protected from the daring ambition of the French Emperor! How freely did we co-operate with them, wherever men, or arms, or provisions were the most required! And how gratifying were the results, by which not only that nation was reinstated on its original basis of liberty, and the honour of the British arms made, if it were possible, more resplendent, but a blow struck, which contributed not a little to the fall of that most powerful enemy of England, and to the repose of the Continent! And yet, not many years afterwards, we looked with cool neutrality on that same territory, which had been consecrated by our victories and our blood,—overrun by the *friendly* troops of our most excellent ally, and his most Christian Majesty, the King of France. And if we turn our eyes to Poland, that chivalrous nation once so renowned, now a land of slaves and ruined agriculturists,—to Bohemia, ever presenting remonstrances to the excellent Emperor of Austria, and to which his usual answer of "*Sora fatto*" is as constantly returned,—and to the Italian States,—what do we see but oppression and military despotism overlooked in our own States of Europe, while a handful of men, struggling to emancipate themselves from the Ottoman sway, are made our heroes, and are assisted, if not by the arms, at least by the supplies, by the contributions, and, where every thing else fails, by the pious prayers of our European Houseloves!

And is it for the sake of these *brigands*, this horde of undisciplined barbarians, as inferior to the Querillas as an European is to a wild Indian, half of whom would not serve, if it were not for the expectation of plunder, whilst the other half is only kept together by the very hopelessness of their situation,—is it for these that a political crusade is now stirring? Is a second outcry of the Crescent and the Cross to be trumpeted through Europe? And will England oppose her ancient and faithful ally to support these men, whose only merit with us is, that their pirates stoop to plunder our merchant vessels? We think that the policy of England is too liberal, that her counsellors are not so bigotted as to be led away by a second Peter the Hermit, whether he comes in the form of Prince Nicolo, or of his Majesty the Autocrat of all the Russias. Do we not receive an actual revenue in India from our patronage of that most illustrious of all the heathen deities, Juggernaut? And are we to quarrel with an ancient ally, because, forsooth, he drinks no wine but under the rose, marries three hundred wives, believes in Mahomet, and swears on the Koran?

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*Tales Round a Winter Hearth, by Jane and Anna Maria Porter.*
2 vols. Svo. Longman & Co.

The Misses Porter write very interesting prefaces. We are duly informed, in these piquant introductions, of the various interesting circumstances which give rise to "the following interesting tales." Tale the first is suggested by an anecdote related to the writer by a lady of high rank and distinguished accomplishments,—and tale the second is partly founded on a fact contained in one of Bell's Weekly Messengers of last year, which is regularly brought down to the [fair] authoresses by the Esher coach,—the London Carrier Company not travelling beyond Whitechapel on one side of town, and Fulham on the other. The colour of the drawing-room paper is the source of a not less felicitous invention, and by far the most interesting tale in the present work, was suggested by a dark closet. On the whole, these volumes are very respectable productions: their besetting sin is the "fine writing," which, indeed, as Hodge says, in the farce, is "desperate foin."

The following reflections, however, present many redeeming beauties. We have not for a long time met with any thing which has more pleased us. The tale from which we make the extract is decidedly our favourite. The subject, to be sure, is somewhat common-place, but is handled with such delicacy and management, that it preserves all the interest of an original fiction. It details the adventures of two young friends,—a subject which Miss Porter has often successfully treated. These friends are an Irish Peer, who beareth in the novel the style of Lord Howth, and a gentle rat (we trust that no political squib lurks in this sentimental narrative), with a sleek tail and long grey whiskers.

"Whilst his visitors remained with him, our hero was less engaged by the pertinacious attachment of his rat; but when they were gone, and he was left for some winter weeks solely alone, his solitary heart attached a real value to the affectionate gaze of those small bright eyes which seemed to live on his looks; and whenever he entered his house, after a long ride, or a day's botanizing, he felt something of pleasurable emotion at the welcome of his rat. She was now always in attendance, ready to spring from a small lodgment in the wainscoat in the hall, where she prudently entrenched herself during his absence, fond to show her joy by playing round his steps.

"Those who, with warm and yearning hearts, are condemned by circumstances to lonely lives, can well understand this minor sort of attachment. Any eye which humbly, fondly, waits and watches ours, any living thing to which we really appear the sole object of affection, becomes, in time, of consequence to our happiness. Is it not sweet to have the power of brightening and blessing another's existence, even though that existence be the brief and dimly-read one of an inferior animal?

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"Under such impressions, the elegant and admired Lord Howth often laid down his book, when alone in his library, to play with his strange favourite, whose slight and agile movements really were as graceful as amusing. Sometimes he would catch himself talking to her of the wintry blasts or the cheering sunshine, as if she could understand his observations!"

After this, let us hear no more of Wallace and his cut-glass
smelling-bottle.

THE BEAUMONT PICTURES, CONTINUED.—No. 15. is a landscape by Sebastian Bourdon, in the foreground of which is introduced the ark of the covenant, with figures accompanying it. This is evidently one of his unfinished pieces, which were, in fact, as numerous, if not more so, than his finished ones. We must, therefore, in viewing it, overlook the want of blending in the tints, and the patches of colour which are so perceptible all over the painting; and considering it as a sketch, rather admire the genius of the design, and the freedom of the whole, than blame the want of finish; particularly when we reflect, that the unfinished pieces of this master are, in general, the most admired. Sebastian Bourdon was a French painter of some celebrity, who lived 1617-1671. While studying in Italy, he became acquainted with Claude, whom he imitated; as also Sacchi, Caravaggio, and Bambocchio. He also copied the landscapes of Titian; but landscape was not his only study, as he likewise painted historical and grotesque subjects. His name may also be found among the engravers; and he executed many pieces in a very masterly style.

The head of a Jew, by Rembrandt, is a very fine specimen of this master. The shadows are deep and judiciously disposed, and the flesh tints a close imitation of nature. Of the Claudes we cannot say much; they are very fair specimens, but we are not such admirers of Claude as to be in ecstasies at every thing that comes from his easel, however indifferent it may be; and these hardly stand a fair chance by the side of the celebrated pieces of that master which already grace the collection. We are most inclined to admire the one of Cephalus and Procris, although it is in a very sketchy style; but a great deal of genius is shewn in the fine effects produced in it, which are worthy the attention of every young artist.

Of Mr. West's picture we took as much notice as it deserved in our last number. We intend, at no very distant period, to present our readers with a catalogue raisonnée of his most celebrated paintings, with our remarks on them, together with sundry notices of the genius, the life, the liberality, &c. &c. of the late President of the Royal Academy.

WATER COLOUR EXHIBITION.—The Exhibition of the Society of Painters in Water Colours contains several pictures of great merit. And, indeed, when we recollect the hard style and the meagre effects of Smith, and others of the early water colour painters before Turner, we look to the specimens in the present exhibition with additional pleasure. Copley Fielding has two sea pieces of extraordinary merit; Nos. 141. and 195, two views across Plymouth

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Sound. The sea is transparent and full of motion, and the lights are admirably disposed. There are also others by the same artist in which he has very successfully imitated the style of Claude. D. Cox has some capital pictures, especially No. 83. the Pirate's Isle. Wild's scenes in ancient cathedrals and churches are as faithful and accurate as ever. We more particularly admired No. 87, the Choir of York Cathedral, with its splendid carved canopy-work over the stalls, and gorgeous painted glass in the east window; and No. 90, the Choir of the Cathedral at Cologne, which gives a most perfect idea of that splendid pile, which, had it ever been finished, would have excelled every Gothic building in Europe in the chasteness of its ornaments, and the magnitude and proportion of its parts. There are also, No. 119, an interior view of the Transept of St. Ouen at Rouen, and No. 170, the Shrine of the Three Kings of Cologne in the cathedral there, by the same artist. We must, however, find fault with Wild for making the tints in his distances too strong. If he and Prout would pay a little more attention to aërial perspective, they would greatly add to the present briliancy of their reputation. Prout's broad lights and masterly touches vie with those of Canaletti. His view of Milan Cathedral, No. 53.—of the Campanile at Venice, No. 243.—and the receiving ships at Portsmouth. No. 237.—show the variety of his powers, and his great excellence in the two styles which he adopts. Dewint has a fine view of Lancaster, No. 238; and the view of the Bay of Naples, by Copley Fielding, No. 13, is a truly beautiful representation of that lovely spot. There are also pieces by Stephanoff, Robson, Cotman, and others, which we must notice in a future number.

ITALIAN OPERA.—Madame Pasta sang in the part of Romeo, in the opera of *Romeo and Juliet*, on Saturday night. Her acting in this part kept pace with her singing; and she personated the noble and amorous youth with the most correct justness of conception. Her duet with Caradori in the first act was given with great sweetness, and the famous song of "Ombra d'orata" in the last act was full of the fire of despair. It is now unnecessary to remind our readers of the dignity, the self-possession, and the great power and brilliancy of tone of Madame Pasta. They are well known, and duly appreciated. It only remains to notice the remainder of the performers. A Signor Destri, who audaciously attempted a part, which might have given ample scope to the sweetness of voice and taste of Curioni, was relieved with abundant and well merited hisses, and deserved to have been hooted off the stage; and a Signora de Angeli only escaped the condemnation which would otherwise have awaited her, by the insignificance of the part which was allotted to her. Let them both immediately retire and never again offend the ears of a British audience. Porto was, as he always is, very respectable.

The ballet, that most execrable of all ballets, short as it was, was too long for the patience of the audience, and we could only congratulate ourselves that there was nothing more arduous to require better dancing. Brocard, Coulon, and Boisgirand seemed heartily ashamed of the mock gentility which they had to go through; and the younger performers in vain twisted their feet with anxiety for something, which should call for a greater dis-

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play of the art. We congratulate Mr. Ebers on the fulness of his house, and once more repeat, that Pasta is the only magnet, which could possibly have produced it.

Mr. William Blake, whose illustrations in outline of Young, Gray, and other poets have been long before the public, has completed his designs for the Book of Job. Some of the etchings are full of that remarkable wildness and singularity of conception, for which Blake is so well known. The embodying of the plagues inflicted on Job by the Almiglity, the personification of a Night-mare, and the figures of the creation, are wonderful, although we do not think them equal either in point of originality or skilful execution to some of the earlier productions of this extraordinary artist.

Woodstock; or the Cavalier. 3 vols. 12mo.

Three additional volumes of the History of England, by the Author of Waverly.

WEST LONDON THEATRE.—We visited last Friday that entertaining public amusement, the FRENCH PLAY. As what was once said of the Greeks may well be applied to our Continental neighbours, that "Natio Comoda est," it is not to be wondered at that they can spare from their over-loaded theatrical profession a sufficiently effective corps dramatique to amuse such of the Londoners as wish to show that they understand French, and such of the Farisians resident here as understand little of any other language. Upon the whole, the speculation has been eminently successful; and, as success leads to improvement, it is in contemplation of the managers to enlist into their service for limited periods some of the most admired artistes of the Theatres of the Boulevards. We question, however, whether it is wise in them to venture beyond mere farces and vaudevilles. We witnessed on Friday the representation of Molière's "Avare," which is to be sure as much a broad farce as any two-acted production which claims a higher title; but it is a farce of Molière, and, like all his writings, requires no ordinary capacity to give it its due scenic effect. The part of the old miser was played by a M. Préval, whose figure was far too portly, and whose manner far too easy, and even jocose, for the personification of self-inflicted penury and wretchedness. The other characters were but moderately filled, always excepting Laporte's Maître Jaques, the pluralist domestic, who, for the salary of one office !!! is content to do the work of two!!! In the scene where he is displayed as "in utrumque paratus," by assuming alternately the dress and appendages of each office, Laporte touched the affair with a needle. Two very agreeable vaudevilles followed, and were well sustained. The best of the two, "La Belle Mere" was from the never-failing pen of M. Scribe, who promises to rival Lopes de Vega himself in fertility of gerius. The other, "Le Marquis malgrée lui," was diverting, but the improbability of the plot was too much even for the best disposed play-goers.

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Mr. F. CRAMER.—We are not great frequenters of benefit concerts. We rarely ever find the reality worthy of the representations held out in the bills; but from certain information which we have received, and on which we can rely, there is about to be a concert at Hanover Square next Friday, given by Mr. F. Cramer, which to the lovers of instrumental music, will afford a treat rarely to be met with in this metropolis. We are given to understand that not only the largest, but the most effective instrumental band that has for many years been heard in London, will be united on behalf of this distinguished professor; while the unexpected aid of Madame Pasta has materially improved the vocal department. The company will doubtless be numerous and select, and, what may be some inducement to others to visit it, we intend to be there ourselves, and we stand pledged to pass an impartial sentence upon the performance.

The Fifth Number of the Star Chamber, for Wednesday, the
10th instant, will consist of

THE DUNCIAD OF TO-DAY,
a Satire in Verse;

For which all living Authors, but especially the following, are
requested to prepare themselves :—

Bishop Tomline, Leigh Hunt, Lady Morgan, Counsellor Phillips,
Archdeacon Coxe, Lord Thurlow, Mrs. Shelley, The Ettrick
Shepherd, Mr. Tennant, Mr. Thomas Taylor, George Colman,
Mr. Hazlitt, Barry Cornwall, Wedderburne Webster, Mr. Mil-
man, Dr. Dibdin, Bernard Barton, Mrs. Tighe, Barry O'Meara,
Mr. Croly, Chandos Leigh, Dr. Valpy, The Northamptonshire
Peasant, Miss Benger, Archdeacon Wrangham, William Lisle
Bowles, Allan Cunningham, Mrs. Hemans, Lord Strangford, Mr.
Wyatville, Horace Smith, Esq., James Smith, Esq., Mr. Camp-
beil, Alaric A. Watts, Mr. Galt, L. E. L., and the initial school,
Ugo Foscolo, Mr. J. H. Wiffen, Dr. Lyall, Granville Penn, Lord
John Russell, Horace Twiss, Mr. Haydon, Shergold Boone, Mr.
Brougham, Major Maxwell, Lord Porchester, T. K. Hervey,
Captain Medwin, Sir Aubrey de Vere Hunt, Mrs. H. Rolls,
Lord Gower, Madame de Genlis, Rebecca Edridge, Mr. Fitz-
gerald, Mr. T. H. Bayly, Guy Penseval, Messrs. Maude Ather-
stone, Joyce, Conder, Reynolds, Sullivan, Lyndsay, Peers, Dale,
Bowring, Thew, Read, Carrington, &c. &c. &c.

London: Published by W. MARSH, 145, Oxford Street; where Advertisements and Communications, addressed (free of postage) to the Editor, may be left. Printed by B. JOHNSON, 2, Herbert's Passage, Beaufort Buildings, Strand.

THE STAR CHAMBER.

No. 5.]

WEDNESDAY, MAY 10th, 1826.

[Price 6d.]

“ He would diverse times goe into the Star Chamber, as occasion would serve: there he spared neither high nor lowe, but judged every estate according to his merits and desertes.”

CAVENDISH'S LIFE OF WOLSEY.

The Dunciad of To-Day,

A SATIRE.

“ FOOLS are my theme!”—indignant BYRON cried,
And vengeful Satire back'd the poet's pride.

Quench'd is that spirit now; long toss'd and torn,
At home distracted, and abroad forlorn,
Caprice and frenzy rack'd his feverish brain,
Till soothing Fancy shed her dews in vain.
Exil'd, he sought his home, and found his grave
Far in “ those Edens of the Eastern wave,”
Which, stern and wild alike, but ne'er unstrung,
His heart had worshipp'd, and his lyre had sung;
His was the soul of might, the nerve that threw
Impassion'd grandeur o'er the scenes he drew;
Bade the bold son redeem his captive sire,
And lent reviving Greece a Briton's fire.

But mark how Dullness, like a ditch-fed toad,
Crawls sickening on, where Genius points the road!
Far as the poet roams, a servile train
Dogs him from ship to shore, from street to plain;
“ Greece! Greece!” they cry,—that rallying signal heard,
Tombs, temples, altars, each hath found its bard;
For batter'd nymphs flow sonnets, songs, and odes,
And funeral elegies for headless gods.

“ To arms! to arms!” each baby rhymester bawls,
“ Athens, thy fleet—and Sparta, mann thy walls!

“ Now is the hour for generous souls to work,

“ Now strike for liberty, and damn the Turk!

“ Think of the glorious fight your fathers won

“ All on the plains of mighty Marathon,

Verse 1.—English Bards and Scotch Reviewers, v. vi.

V. 8.—Giaour, v. xv.

V. 14.—With all his faults, and all his inconsistencies, Lord Byron was still the master-spirit of his age. In spite of every obstacle and discouragement, his genius burst forth at once, and gave a new tone and energy, not merely to the literature of the day, but to the general taste and feeling, and spirit of his countrymen. Without Byron we should have lacked many an incentive to that noble and chivalrous demeanour which he has successfully revived in the British character;—with us alone the disposal must remain, whether it shall prove a blessing or a curse.

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"And eke (the patriot schoolboy's favourite three)
"Platæa, Salamis, Thermopylæ!"

30

The tuneful train approach and disappear,
HAYGARTH in front, and HEMANS in the rear;
While, from Bengal red-hot, brave BURGES draws
Hibernia's bull-dogs to Bozzari's cause;
They stamp, they chide, exhort, protest, and cry,
Till PALLI soothes them with a lullaby!

35

Nor think by pilfer'd names, (ignoble cheat!)
Your Laras, Harolds, shall escape the Fleet:
O'er all alike one dark oblivion lours,
Though WIFFEN warble in "Aonian Hours,"
And MUDIE (courteous satirist!) devote
His Attic Fragments to reform the Scot;
His Attic Fragments! 'faith, the name's well earn'd
By odds and ends in Grub Street garrets churn'd!

40

V. 30.—Nothing could be more ludicrous than the classical enthusiasm for every thing relating to Greece on the publication of Lord Byron's early works. This infatuation, however, had commenced some time before and the noble poet himself alludes to it in his Satire.

V. 32.—Haygarth:—This gentleman was guilty of a poem called "Greece," of whom, and of which, this notice is sufficient.

V. Id.—Hemans:—This lady was guilty of a similar offence.

V. 33.—"The Son of Erin, or The Cause of the Greeks; a Play in Five Acts, by a Native of Bengal, George Burges, A. M. Trinity College, Cambridge."

V. 34.—Marco Bozzari, one of the most distinguished of the Greek patriots—or rebels.

V. 36.—See this young lady's effusions of modern Greek poetry, with the accomplished editor's translations, in various numbers of the Literary Gazette.

V. 38.—See "Lara," a poem, by a Scotchman, in two volumes; "Harold the Exile," a novel, in 3 volumes; "Childe Harold's Wanderings," a Romance, by Lieutenant Bedford, &c. &c.

V. Id.—Let not the "Pennellesse Poet" tremble at this allusion, nor mis take the Fleet Prison for that "Fluviorum rex, Erydanus," the renowned Fleet-ditch—

"Whose disemboguing streams

Roll the dark tribute of dead dogs to Thames;

The king of dykes! than whom no sluice of mud

With deeper sable blots the silver flood."

POPE'S Dunciad. Book II.

V. 40.—"Aonian Hours, and other Poems," by J. H. Wiffen, 1819.

V. 41.—See this fellow's "Modern Athens; a Dissertation and Demonstration of Men and Things in the Scotch Capital, by a Modern Greek;" as well as his "Attic Fragments of Characters, Customs, Opinions, and Scenes, by the Author of the Modern Athens, and Babylon the Great." See also this said "Babylon the Great," professing to be a philosophical picture of that mighty wonder, London, but which, in the true spirit of Cockneyism, consists of an eloge of the Old Times Newspaper, and a pictureque description of a Sunday Promenade in "the Park." Mr. Mudie has lately lent his own name to a weekly periodical, of which he is the self-elected editor.

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And these have pass'd away; nor these alone
Crept to their graves, unnotic'd and unknown;
Fast as they fall, another shoot succeeds,
For Dunces sprout by stealth—like other weeds;
So frail, so delicate, that few (thank God!)
Survive to claim the honour of the rod.

45

50

Dunces of every rank, and every age,
In dotage silly, or in childhood sage;
Whether in manly fight ye stand for fame,
A book your shield, your crest a full-length name,
Or, scarce secure, behind initials bask,
Wearing, like Harlequin, but half a mask;
Ye too, whose borrow'd garb would mock our view,
But that your tails and pointed ears peep through;
And last, ye modest Wits, who, great or small,
Thanks to your prudence! print no name at all;
Haste! —if ye can, be heal'd, absolv'd in time,
Whate'er your sickness, or whate'er your crime;
Whether in woods of prose your axes ring,
Or sink your pipkins in the Muses' spring;
Bards, travellers, priests, must all my verse engage,
And fret once more their minute on the stage.

55

60

65

In fustian clouds "be-buried steeple-high,"
With head "a-fuddled," and "beer-pregnant eye,"
TENNANT stockfull from Anster Fair appears,
Whose "maggots fly-blow all our rotten ears!"
The curtain drawn, "two dozen milkmaids" close
With "polish'd tin-pails" round their Berwick foes,
A "geminy of kings" tell tales before us,
And wrangling lawyers chaunt in semichorus.

70

V. 69.—"Anster Fair, a Poem, in Six Cantos, by William Tennant."

V. 74.—See "John Baliol, a Historical Drama, in Five Acts, by William Tennant." The following little "seena" is too ingenious to be forgotten:—

"KING EDWARD."

"Speak your opinions, lords and counsellors.

" SEMICHORUS OF LAWYERS.

"We are perplex'd."

" SEMICHORUS OF LAWYERS.

"We vibrate unresolv'd."

And afterwards:—

" THIRD LAWYER.

"I do opine, with England's Majesty,

"That Baliol is the true inheritor.

" SEMICHORUS OF LAWYERS.

"King John!

" SEMICHORUS OF LAWYERS.

"King John!

" CHORUS OF LAWYERS.

"Vivat King John for ever!"

The incident of an enemy appearing to the besieged under the resemblance of milkmaids with their pails, is no less novel and entertaining.

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SHEPHERD OF ETRICK !—fairy, elf, and sprite,
Have danc'd to death the Minstrel Jacobite,
Then laugh to turn the helpless bard afloat
On Folly's stream, a novel for a boat;
Yet own his rhymes (God bless the Baillie's friends !)
Not quite so silly as the sheep he tends.
75
80

Soft lays by moonlight BARRY CORNWALL trills,
Th' enamour'd swain of bow'rs, and rocks, and rills,
Eyes, hair, and forehead—fishes, fawns, and birds—
Delicious nonsense in a flood of words !
Whate'er from Spain, Greece, Egypt, lures the sense,
Rome, Brescia, Milan, Sicily, Provence,
"Brows as Athenian marble pale," "white arms
Like silver vapours," "currant lips," (O charms !)
"Tresses that fall like things enamour'd," and
"The rich mouth's perfum'd gates," at whose command
"Float numbers from the breathed flute;" what grace,
When "crimsoning beauty" bathes its "milkwhite face,"
And "through the lattic'd leaves gusts of soft air
Sigh, like perfume, o'er shoulders white," (or fair)—
Such are thy songs, O CORNWALL; nor untold
Miracles strange, how at the flood of old
"Wild horses shrilly spoke," (or neigh'd)—and "stout
Men did grow white with famine,"—(or the gout).

Nor LEIGH forbears his hours in rhyme to waste,
Who, with more wit, more fancy, and more taste,
(His "View" and "Lines on Princess Charlotte" show it)
Would make a pretty tolerable poet.

Like ivy o'er churchyards, Friend BERNARD creeps,
Or in "Poetic Vigils" nods and sleeps;
Thought bows to thought, and rhyme to rhyme gives place,
Stiff as his garb, and formal as his pace.
100
106

V. 75.—See "The Queen's Wake, a Legendary Poem;" and "The Royal Jubilee, a Scottish Mask."

V. 76.—See "The Jacobite Relics of Scotland, Collected and Illustrated by James Hogg."

V. 78.—See "The Three Perils of Man; or War, Women, and Witch-craft, a Border Romance."

V. 79.—Baillie Blackwood !—

"For every one knows little Mat's an M. P."

V. 98.—For the above and similar expressions, see Mr. Proctor's Sicilian Story, Marcian Colonna, Flood of Thessaly, Girl of Provence, &c. &c.

V. 101.—See also "Epistles to a Friend in Town;" and "Golconda's Fite," both by Mr. Chandos Leigh. This gentlemen once published some poems of rather doubtful morality, which were succeeded by "Poesy, a Satire."—Mr. Chandos Leigh's Satire!

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And must thou lay thy lifeless limbs a-bed
'Neath the bare clod, where steps unholy tread ?
Or would thy pen, for lack of "marble hearse,"
Like Horace raise a monument of verse ?
Thy book shall be thy tombstone and declare,—
BARTON, THE QUAKER BARD, lies buried there!

In peacock's crest array'd, and peacock's coat,
In step as stately, and as shrill in throat,
Terrific MILMAN breathes the pomp of sound,
"His eloquent pen pregnant with thought profound;"
Self-smitten monarchs strut, and spout, and stare,
And wond'ring courtiers cry—"How fine we are!"
Wond'ring, forsooth, how 'tis they hear and speak
The liquid harmony of British Greek.
120

HEMANS ! how noble sounds that name succinct !
And why not Mrs. ? Is the word extinct ?
Her "partial friends" th' unseemly title drop,
And talk of HEMANS as they talk of PORE.
'Tis well; on lighter, loftier wings she flies,
Since dreary Dartmoor won the royal prize;

V. 107.—The author of the "Poetic Vigils" is not only a deadly foe to all statuaries and masons, but would e'en pick a quarrel with the sexton himself for raising a humble molehill, or twisting a few oziers, over our graves.

V. 116.—Anne Boleyn, p. 44.

V. 123.—Whoso is ambitious, let him wish his "partial friends" at the devil before they ruin him. You dedicate your book to them, they praise it, and you are damned in consequence; it was published at their request, and so each expects a *gratuitous copy*, thereby depriving you of the only sale you had reason to look for; and, to crown the whole, they "drop your title," and mention you as a young gentleman who writes in three periodicals, and is reckoned one of the first literary characters of the day.

V. 124.—These "familiar acquaintance" think nothing of buckling Homer and Hemans together; and gravely question you as to your preference between Anacreon and Watts,—that is, not Dr. Watts, but Mr. Alaric A.—One of these literary levellers,—Read (if we rightly remember his name) has lately quoted, on the title-page of his poems, two passages, the first from an old tragedy called Prometheus, written by one Aeschylus, the other from a more modern play, the Duke of Mantua, composed by Mr. Fentum, corner of Salisbury Street, Strand; who is therein pourtrayed in one of his own greasy masks and dingy dominos.

V. 126.—See this lady's poem on the above subject, which obtained the prize of fifty guineas, proposed by the Royal Society of Literature, in 1822.

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And now no more she weaves with woofs and warps
Funereal dirges o'er a suckling's corpse,
But plays with sieges, battles, bridges, bogs,
"As maids of thirteen do with puppy dogs."
Then high on eagle's cloud-tipp'd pinion soar,
Leave love to LANDON, mysteries to MORE;
O'er women triumph, and with men compete,
In all, save poetry, a bard complete!

130

Nor pass unnotic'd the "fine-minded" lay,
To "Memory" dear, to Love, to ALARIC A,
Weaver of "New Years' Gifts," ingenious WATTS,
Of "Souvenirs," "Albums," and Forget-Me-Nots;"

135

V. 128.—See "the Dirge of a Child," by Mrs. Hemans.—a melodious compilation of ambitious nonsense; where, besides "departed cherubs," and "ephemeral flowers," and "sunbeam smiles," and "zephyr's breath," and "visions of beauty," and "things of light," we are treated with a "blossom of being, whose all of life was a rosy ray!" Yet this is the poem of which, to quote the language of the Quarterly Review, "no living poet need to be ashamed!" Let us hope that the day of infant criticism have expired with the last Editor of this Journal. Mr. Lockhart possesses every talent and accomplishment which his office requires; he has only to seek labourers for the harvest, and we will venture a prediction, that his granary shall be richly stored, and his exertions plentifully rewarded.

V. 129.—The same prolific lady has lately been delivered of a poem called "The Siege of Valencia," a sprightly affair enough, but smelling most villainously of gunpowder: her "Vespers of Palermo, a Tragedy," appeared some time since on the Covent Garden boards, and are now forgotten.

V. 130.—This line is borrowed from an anonymous tragedy called King John; whether from the pen of Shakspeare or of Shiel, the Gentleman's Magazine must determine.

V. 132.—More:—See this lady's happy imitations of the ancient "Moralities;" particularly her "Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, a Comedy in Three Acts;" with the monopolylogue of "Simon Peter," and the Melodramatic Spectacle of "Moses in the Bullrushes."

V. 137.—Watts is a disciple of the Hemans school. See his "Cythna," ushered in by the following motto from a brother bard:—

> The glassy splendour of her eye
> Already sparkled of the sky;
> The kindling of a world of bliss,
> For it was not the light of this.

WIFFEN!!!

This must have been a very remarkable eye; but that of Cythna herself seems to have been a match for it:—

> "Yes, in her eye there liv'd until the last
> A strange, unreal light, a fearful glance,
> Wild, yet most most beautiful."

In the same gentleman's "Stanza," supposed to have been written on the envelope to a lock of hair," the "Blossom of Love," which ought to have remained sacred to Hemans, is twice dragged from its sanctuary. One stanza, and enough:—

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Without thee "Amulets" were a charmless jest,
And "Friendship's Offering" but a hoax at best;
Idolator of grass-plots, lawns, and trees,
Slave of a sunbeam, panting for a breeze,
Captive alike of flow'rets and the fair,
A bed of cowslips, or a lock of hair!

140

Who hath not heard, amid thy sons and daughters,
Bath, great metropolis of fops and waters,
Of him, thy pump-room poet, from whose throat
Flow stanzas sweet as Music's sweetest note?
And happy he, whose nightly fare's no worse
Than BISHOP's Melodies, and BAILY's Verse;
Though puff'd Aladdin was a scurvy trick,
And "Songs to Rosa" make me very sick.

145

150

> "BLOSSOM OF LOVE! yes, on my mind
> Strange and unusual feelings rush,
> The floodgates of my heart unbind,
> And bid its waters wildly gush,
> As gazing on these threads I see
> The all that now remains of thee!"

Sweet, sentimental, and pathetic! For the application of the epithet "fine-minded," we are indebted to—Jerdan.

V. 140.—We scarcely need mention, that we allude here to those pretty little volumes, which, as their own advertisements profess, are "after the manner of the German Pocket-books," which they are about as much like as a hop at White Conduit-House is like a ball at Almack's. The German Pocket-books are often dull enough, but they certainly do not consist of a collection of "poetry" by all the unreadable scribblers of the hour. While we are upon this subject, we may as well notice a habit which these exquisite little publications have of presenting us with the engraved autographs of all the eminent characters of the day. The selection is, in general, very judicious. We remember seeing in one of them the signature "E. J. Read" stuck between Buonaparté and Byron. On enquiring who this unknown first-rate genius might chance to be, we were informed by a pert and poetical shop-boy, that it was "Read, Sir, the author of the Broken Heart!" On further enquiry, it turned out to be our old friend, the nephew of Marquerade Fentum, and who, as we before mentioned, selects a passage from his uncle's tragedy of "The Duke of Mantua," as a motto to his own poem.

V. 151.—See, if worth your while, (but you must be quick about it)—the new opera at Drury Lane, by Stanfield and assistants; the noise furnished by Mr. Bishop.

V. 152.—See " Songs to Rosa," being Part XCIX. of the first volume of " Songs, by F. H. Baily, Esq." We understand this gentleman is contemplating an entire new series of Canzonets, in which, by a novel and pretty arrangement, we shall have no more occasion to count the leaves in the old tedious way of the numerical table, but may request a lady to turn to page Lucy or page Matilda, or any other female name in the Christening books.

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And who is Rose?—the sleekest of old men,
Heir to MATILDA's talents, name, and pen;
Who, from Italia's beds and mud-baths sprung,
(Italia, fam'd for poesy and dung!)
Than Pæstum's flow'rs more fruitful and more dear,
In MURRAY's greenhouse blooms four times a-year.
Misguided STEWART! to thy Muse return,
Weave the last wreath for ARIOSTO's urn;
And on one shelf lest man and master sleep,
Thy butler COSNETT to his sideboard keep:
Or if his rebel hand, like thine, must blot
Its share of goodly foolscap, praise him not,
Nor prove how apt thy will, thy strength how vain,
To foster Granby, or to fell Tremaine.

Time was, when language gave th' impress of mind,
Not bare like rocks, nor hollow like the wind;
When pithy words with rigid sense were fraught,
Alike if SPENCER sung, or BACON taught;
Now cold and marrowless as Banquo's ghost,
Like streamlets in their own meanders lost,
Words after words, an endless maze, ensue,
Without one thread of thought to guide the wanderer through.
Fancy, blest maid! so oft invok'd in vain,
Flies our chill clime in brighter realms to reign,
Or, quench'd her torch, and loos'd her ancient spell,
In child-like dalliance plays with L. E. L.

V. 153.—Mr. Stewart Rose, a god-child of poor Rosa Matilda, “the lovely little Jessica,” of Della Crusca celebrity,—a meek and harmless gentleman, now somewhat enfeebled by the relaxations of Italian air, poetry, and mud-baths,—creator of a Romantic Poem with a hard name,—translator of Casti and Ariosto,—and constant dabbler in the Quarterly Review.

V. 162.—Thomas Cosnett, footman to Mr. Stewart Rose, a middle-aged man, honest, clean, and active, and bears a good character from his last place. His “Footman's Directory” is compiled with care and discretion; but unfortunately he was tempted, in an evil hour, to publish his “Granby, a Novel of Fashionable Life,” on the offer of Mr. Rose to make out a case in his favour in the Quarterly. The novel and the review, however, both failed; Cosnett was discharged by his master, and his master by Mr. Lockhart.

V. 166.—For Mr. Stewart Rose's parallel between these two novels, see the last number of the Quarterly; for our own, see the first number of the Star Chamber.

V. 175.—Every stripling of a poetaster thinks himself bound to dedicate an ode to Fancy in some shape or other. How many hundreds have we of these complimentary invitations in our own tongue?—and, excepting those of Thomas Warton and Francis Hall, how few have been accepted or even answered!

V. 178.—L. E. L. authoress of “The Improvisatrice,” and “The Troubadour,”—a sub-urban Sappho, foundress of the INITIAL SCHOOL, the petlamb of Magazinery, and the peculiar poetess of sentimental ladies’-maids, milliners’ daughter s, Brompton beauties, and Pentonville Aspasias.

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83

See how the cold idea, ripe and rife,
Peeps from its mist, and struggles into life;
Howe'er its end protracted, still seen through,
Fine as a cobweb, and as flimsy too;
Betrays its starveling limbs, all skin and bone,
And, like an old man's ague, shivers on.
Say, Sappho, say, why thus thy fancy leans
To half-grown boys, and misses in their teens?
Why thus thy chiefs and simpering maids outshame
The mawkish mulings of a school-girl's flame?
For them no more in shifting tune rehearse
The dull varieties of slip-shod verse;
In vain, 'midst pause abrupt, and tame conceit,
Th' officious dactyl shakes its palsied feet;
Tir'd of eight syllables, in vain thy line
Now halts on sev'n, now hobbles into nine;
The tale, the tone, with fatal treachery tell,
What once was LANDON, now is L. E. L.,
A very Butterfly, poor flies among,
Queen-bee of Love, and Lady-bird of Song.

By Fashion fir'd, the Morning Herald lays
On E. L. E. its laureate cap and bays,
O'er the wide walks of alphabet to rule,
Elect “SUB-MISTRESS OF TH' INITIAL SCHOOL,”
And bids your hearts be heav'd, your pearl-drops shed,
For Misses W. and Masters Z.
Mutes and soft liquids on the field embrace,
And run in pairs distinction's novel race;
Ambitious DELTA quits his A B C,
And, short for Dunce, subscribes a Greecian D;
While DOUBLE-S omits, in haste for fame,
Th' initial vowel that completes his name.

Thus spreads example like a new-born pest,
And Art becomes but mimicry at best;

V. 196.—The subject of the present memoir made her poetical debut in “The Fate of Adelaide, a Swiss Romantic Tale, by Letitia Elizabeth Landon;” but as the gentlemen of the free list were her only patrons, the performance was not repeated. Her subsequent success, under the style of L. E. L., had given us the idea of starting our own Journal under the title of

THE S—C—

till we were cautioned by a facetious friend, that it might be mistaken for the starting of the Salisbury Coach.

V. 200.—It has been permitted, as the wits observe, that modern laureates should add the appendage s of Court Fool to those of Court Poet; at all events, no one will deny that privilege to the poets of our daily papers.

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Not unpolluted CAMPBELL's muse remains,
To "Memory's Pleasures" must succeed its "Pains;"
Old fashion'd fops and spruce Lotharios pour
"Romaunts" with SCOTT, and amorous songs with MOORE;
E'en classic MILMAN has a kind of clan,
As every harlot keeps her favourite man.
Some chuse their game, some pick what they can get,
And all is fish that comes within the net;
Till pinch'd and push'd at last, the plodding elves,
Their neighbours beggar'd, fairly strip themselves.
But most, when bards in noodday vigour fall,
(For bards are merely mortals after all.)
Mockeries, erewhile by bolder knaves begun,
Through lurking louts and petty pilferers run,
From hand to hand like soap-sud bladders fly,
And bubble, bubble, bubble, till they die.

As when by winds subdu'd, and swift decay,
(Rear'd, like its lord, and ruin'd in a day)
Fell the proud boast of WYATT's Gothic skill,
Thy air-built tow'rs and vaulted roofs, Fonthill!
Some fled, some stood aghast, and some admir'd,
Like FARQUHAR scar'd, like JEFFERSON inspir'd,
Hants, Wilts, and Dorset, lift their heads around,
And mountains, molehills, gape to catch the sound;
Echo on echo dances far and wide,
Faint and more faint,—a voice, and nought beside!

[TO BE CONTINUED NEXT WEDNESDAY.]

V. 214.—See the "Pains of Memory," a *Rhapsody*, by Mr. Peregrine Bingham.

V. 216.—Romaunts with Scott:—See, for instance, Stewart Rose's poem with a hard name, alluded to above; Polwheeler's Fair Isabel; Allan's Bridal of Caolchairn, &c. &c. &c.

V. Id.—Amorous songs with Moore:—Such as Pump-room Baily's "Miniature Melodies," Kelly's "Myrtle Leaves," and, at least, nine hundred and ninety-nine out of every thousand copies of verses in every newspaper and gazette throughout the kingdom. Moore had sadly corrupted the judgment, at least, of the groundlings.

V. 217.—Only think of Milman's clan!—at the top of which stands another of the PUMP-ROOM SCHOOL, author of "The Innocents, a Sacred Drama; Ocean, and the Earthquake of Aleppo; Poems; Bath, 1825.

V. 2:8—How was it after the death of Lord Byron?—did not the press teem with "Continuations to Don Juan," " Lady Byron's Answers to her Lord's Farewell," and such other trash?—and what became of it all? No little portion of the cargo was shipped aboard at Oxford, where there is always a ready market for filth and blasphemy,—got wrecked in London for want of talent. (for the aforesaid qualities *alone* have but a limited recommendation in the metropolis.)—was then dispersed among the dirtiest bookstalls, where, no doubt, it is still kept on sale for the supply of "naughty women," "prentice-boys," and Fellows of Colleges.

V. 234.—See "Fonthill Abbey, a Poem, by W. Jefferson."

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BUBBLE MEMBERS. No. 2.

The following is a correct List of the Bubble Companies, of which Mr. Alderman Thompson, at present a Candidate for the representation of the City of London in the Imperial Parliament, is either Chairman, Director, or Auditor:—

Equitable Loan Bank Pawnbroking Company !
Thames Tunnel Company !!
London and South Wales Rail Road Company !!!!
General Steam Navigation Company !!!!!
Metropolitan Improvement Company !!!!!
Anglo-Mexican Mining Company !!!!!!!
Colombian Mining Company !!!!!!!
Irish Provincial Bank Company !!!!!!!!
Thames Water Company !!!!!!!!!
South London Dock Company !!!!!!!!!!
Reversionary Interest Society !!!!!!!!!!
Hope Insurance Company !!!!!!!!!!
&c. &c. &c. &c. &c.

Worthy and Independent Livery of London, requireth this awful
List any comment?

The Equitable-I-oan-bank—Pawnbroking—Mrs. Fry—Humbug—Hampstead-Company is dissolved.—The following is the list of the Senatorial Directors, all of whom, with the exception of Dr. Lushington, deserted their vaunted bantling in its last distressing moments;—

Stewart Marjoribanks, Esq. M. P.
John Smith, Esq. M. P.
Joshua Walker, Esq. M. P.
Matthias Attwood, Esq. M. P.
Arigna Brogden, Esq. M. P.
Arigna Bent, Esq. M. P.
S. T. Barrett, Esq. M. P.
Mr. Alderman Bridges, M. P.
Sir William Congreve, Bart. M. P.
Dr. Lushington, M. P.

The expences of Direction amounted to upwards of Fourteen
Thousand Pounds, exclusive of the Solicitor's bill, which was
under Six Thousand.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

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FINE ARTS.—An Engraving by Burnett, from Allan's picture of Knox's interview with Mary Queen of Scots, has just been published. It is inferior to his best engravings and wants a more finished softness, the whole being rather harsh. The head of the figure behind the Queen, and the hand and part of the dress of the austere Knox, are the best parts of the engraving. The dress of Mary is extremely deficient in effect, and the face is not sufficiently delicate for that renowned beauty.

EXHIBITION, SOMERSET HOUSE.—The press of matter in the present number obliges us to postpone our notice of the pictures at Somerset House to our next. But let us recommend those of our readers, who are going in the mean time, to select the following, as the most worthy of attention. No. 60, a subject from Don Quixote, by Leslie. No. 65, the enchanting portrait of Lady Wallscourt, by Sir Thomas Lawrence. No. 72, Cologne, by Turner. No. 80, Hylas carried off by the Nymphs, by H. Howard. No. 165, Dutch fishing-boats, by Calcott. No. 206, Captain Macheath, by G. S. Newton. No. 221, a View of Rouen Cathedral, by Roberts; and No. 292, The hunting of Chevy Chase, by E. Landseer.

In the last mentioned picture, the expression in the countenance of the man blowing the horn, is admirably depicted. It was not however attained without much labour, as that artist actually employed a trumpeter to blow before him every day for a fortnight before he succeeded.

The portrait of His Majesty, by T. C. Thompson, has excited the admiration of the curious, and many are anxious to know whether His Majesty ever really sat to the artist, or whether it was some pirated composition of his own. The fact is, that, when in Ireland, the Illustrious Visitor graciously consented to sit for three days to Mr. Thompson, who, from the very slight materials he had thus obtained, contrived to finish the present picture, and made a whole length of it, although it was only intended originally to be a three-quarter portrait; of course, veneration for our Gracious Sovereign must have caused a picture of such inferior merit to occupy so distinguished a situation.

Mr. F. CRAMER'S CONCERT.—On entering the Hanover Square Concert Room, on Friday evening, with the pledge contained in our last number lying on our conscience, we found ourselves much in the situation of a person whose friend has sent him a quarto poem of his composition, with a

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particular request to give a candid and unreserved opinion of its merits. Severe is the struggle between judicial impartiality and private friendship. Not that we had the slightest reason to doubt the favourable result of the concert in question; but knowing, as we do, that the best arrangements may fail of success, that discords will arise amongst even the sons of harmony,—that favourite singers are not warrantable against colds, hoarsenesses, or caprices, we trembled for the possibility of our being called upon to speak in less favourable terms of the entertainment, than our wish to be amused, and our knowledge of the public and private worth of Mr. Cramer, would naturally have suggested. Our satisfaction then was great on finding the performance fully equal to the expectations we had formed. The full and effective symphonies,—the charming solos by F. Cramer, Moschelles, Puzzi, and Samuel Wesley,—and the vocal powers of Phillips, Caradori, Cúroni, and the incomparable Pasta,—formed a treat calculated to please every taste. Mr. S. Wesley's performance of a fugue by Sebastian Bach was truly magnificent; but we confess that we are never so thoroughly gratified with any execution by this veteran player, as with his extemporaneous productions. We suspect that he has inherited a portion of the spirit of his great ancestor of sectarian celebrity, to whose overwhelming eloquence a written discourse would, if we mistake not, have had the effect of a torpedo. But as far as Bach's fugues go, Mr. S. Wesley is so profoundly learned in them, that they are become a second nature to him, and he plays them as if they were his own. The company was numerous, and of that rank which must have afforded peculiar gratification to the gentleman for whose benefit they were assembled.

SOCIETY OF ANTIQUARIES.

The first part of the Twenty-first volume of the Archaeologia has been published. The most important communications are Article III, a translation of a French M. S. in the public library at Ghent, being a report of the invasion of England, by Edward IV. in 1471, describing the principal incidents in that expedition, and more especially the battles of Barnet and Tewkesbury. It is accompanied by engravings of the miniatures, one of which stands at the head of each of the four chapters.

Article VIII, is a communication from that laborious British Antiquary, Sir R. C. Hoare, describing certain antiquities found in the encampment at Hamden Hill, in Somersetshire, amongst which is the iron part, thirty inches in diameter, of the wheel of a British chariot.

Article V, is an explanation by Mr. Hamper, of the Runic inscription on a gold ring belonging to Lord Aberdeen, the President of the Society. He has succeeded in penetrating the meaning of the verses, notwithstanding the mysterious manner in which they are expressed. The legend, according to him,

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is in English, " whether in fever or leprosy, let the patient be happy and confident in the hope of recovery." Mr. Hamper has been equally fortunate in deciphering the inscription, like-wise Runic, on a jasper ring belonging to George Cumberland, Esq. of Bristol, which he has found to be as follows,

Raise us from the dust we pray thee,

From Pestilence, O! set us free,

Although the grave unwilling be.

It is followed by a masterly *resumé* of the properties, uses, and materials of the talismanic rings, and charms in general, by Mr. Douce.

There are two ingenious essays by that veteran geographer, Major Rennell. In the first he proves, that the island, on which St. Paul was shipwrecked (Acts xxvii.), is not Melita, as has been maintained, chiefly on the authority of Jacob Bryant, but Malta. He grounds his argument on the nature of the *Leoanter*, a violent wind common in the Mediterranean, and which he concludes to be the *Euroclydon* mentioned by St. Paul; on the facts relating to the Dioscuri, a vessel which had put in there on its way from Alexandria to Rome, which could have nothing to do with the Dalmatian Melita; and on the circumstance of their touching at Syracuse in their passage from the island in question to Rhegium, which would have been out of their course had they come from the Gulf of Vence, but which, according to the coasting method of navigation in those times, and even otherwise, was the most direct way from Malta to Rome. The Major's second essay, in which he attempts to prove Jerash near the river Jordan to be the ancient Gerasa, we do not think equally conclusive.

Mr. J. A. Repton has communicated six drawings of curious specimens of early Russian architecture, chiefly of moulded brick. Their principal features are the disproportioned height of some of the arches, and the round mouldings and zigzag ornaments common to all buildings usually called Norman. Russia and Germany offer an ample field for investigation in antiquity. They contain numerous remarkable specimens of the Roman semicircular and pointed styles. We have not neglected this important subject, and shall, when an opportunity offers, present our readers with an inquiry into the early German architecture.

The remainder of the volume consists principally of transcripts and translations of manuscripts on divers subjects, charters, &c. together with explanations and notices of seals, and other less important matters of antiquity. The plates by Basire are excellent and well executed.

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89

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ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG RIFLEMAN, in the FRENCH and ENGLISH ARMIES, during the War in Spain and Portugal, from 1806 to 1816. WRITTEN BY HIMSELF. In one vol. post Svo. price 9s. 6d.

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## THE STAR CHAMBER.

No. 6.] WEDNESDAY, MAY 17th, 1826.

[Price 6d.

## The Dunciad of Co-Day,

A SATIRE, CONTINUED.

GODDESS of arts, of pleasure, and of dress,
Of courts and clubs, the palace and the press,
Fond of the passing moment—till it's past—
And deeming each more lovely than the last;
Inconstant, charming, false, delightful queen,
In fancy restless, yet in form serene,
Bewitching Fashion! though to swell thy train
The wealthless toil, the graceless fret in vain,
Still thousands struggle 'gainst thy barriers clos'd;
And boldly hazard life—to be expos'd;
Proud but to breathe the tainted air of state,
And ape the noise and nonsense of the great;
Prone to believe, and anxious to declare,
A great man's shadow has a lordly air!
Behold, the cassock'd priest, in snow-white stock,
Soothes with soft sermons his patrician flock;
The Templar next his virgin brief unfurls,
Waves his new gown, and shakes his dusty curls;
Courier of Fate, extinguisher of breath,
The supple doctor leads the " Dance of Death;"
Plays with a lady's pulse to show, vain thing!
His watch, his wisdom, and his diamond ring:
While she on pillow'd couch, with sigh and fee,
Nurtures the darling malady—ennui;
Content to taste, and dream, and sip, and read,
New novels, hyson, love, and mustard-seed!
But most advance on Fashion's crowded stage
The zealous witlings of this letter'd age:
One scents the game, and they who noses lack
Yell like the rest, and scamper with the pack;
All join in cry, no matter who began,
Man mimics master, master mimics man.
Hence empty words, that " cold and senseless grown!"—
Or coarse or delicate—are words alone!
See how with palsied, amorous strain intrudes
The lisping eunuch of enamour'd prudes;

V. 264.—Mustard-seed, the fashionable poison in London for the years 1825-6.

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See how the pension'd placeman's poor paltroon 275
Swears, sweats, and swaggers, like a Dutch dragoon;
See how the lyric eagle (voice sublime !)
Melts into blank, or maddens into rhyme;
Big with huge bubbles, odes on epodes press,
Begin with nought, and end with somewhat less. 280

Enough! enough! —the world must sin its way,
Rome twenty centuries since, and we to-day;
From age to age the critic's cry descends,
Began with HORACE, nor with BYRON ends,
Why wreak our wrath on all the insect fry,
From glowing WEBSTER down to melting TIGHE?
At STRANGFORD's coinage let the vulgar stare,
Tremble with CUNNINGHAM, or sob with CLARE;
FITZGERALD start to life each twelfth of June,
(O! that such meetings should return so soon!)
HARLEY his Nonsense print,—as many do,—
And own it Nonsense,—which is done by few.
Italia's twofold tongue let WRANGHAM try,
O'er HORACE drivel, and with PETRARCH sigh;

V. 286.—Or why expatiate on them longer than to mention the gentleman's Waterloo, and the lady's Psyche?

V. 287.—Lord Strangford published a volume of poems some years ago (which has been recently reprinted), under the title of “Translations from Camoens,” little anticipating how generally the Portuguese language would one day be cultivated in England, and little dreaming of the sorry figure he must cut when the forgery should be detected.

V. 288.—Allan Cunningham, another of THE GOBLIN SCHOOL, author of “Sir Marmaduke Maxwell,” “Mermaid of Galloway,” “Legend of Richard Faulder,” “Traditional Tales,” “Songs of Scotland,” &c. &c. &c.

V. Id.—See the “Village Minstrel. and other Poems, by John Clare, the Northamptonshire Peasant.”—“Very respectable matter as things go.”

V. 289.—Mr. Fitzgerald, now a poetical practitioner of long standing, and annual declaimer at the Literary Fund Dinner, republishes his “Battle of Waterloo,” with additions, every anniversary; it has already reached the bulk of several quarto volumes, and will, in a few years, form a complete Military Encyclopædia in rhyme.

V. 293.—James Harley, author of “Nonsense Verses; with an Introduction and Notes.” The motto “Cui Bono?”

V. 293.—The Venerable and Reverend Francis Wrangham, Archdeacon of Cleveland, and member of the Roxburge Club, a dunce of the very highest rank and character, author of a great number of Seatonian Prize Poems, which did not get the prize; editor of Langhorne's Plutarch, translator of Petrarch and Horace, and co-adjutor with the Sapient Dr. Valpy and Thomas Taylor, in that notorious scholastic hodge-podge, the Classical Journal. The same divine is likewise the compiler of two thin octavo volumes, printed on rose-coloured paper; the former entitled “A Bibliographical Tour from Scarborough to the Library of a Philobiblist” [himself],

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93

And, all too fine for London cookery, dress 295
One hundred copies at Lee Priory press.
Let SHERGOLD BOONE, who scorn'd collegiate bays,
From toothless satire sink to nerveless praise;
HERBERT, like loaded wain, toil onward still,
As his own Helga, comfortless and chill; 300
CONDER sing sermons, MAXWELL tales of blood,
And LYNDSAY dramas dated from the flood;

—the latter. “A Descriptive Catalogue of the Stock in Trade of Mr. John Cole, bookseller, Scarborough.”—though both appeared under the name of Mr. Cole himself. The first comprises a list of the most extraordinary bibliographical collection ever collected by any collector, consisting, in short,—

“Of all such reading as is never read.”

But the other contains a very jewel in its way, no less than an elegy by the Archdeacon himself on a baby which “died at Scarborough in consequence of a hurt it received on falling out of bed.” The following specimen of autocritic as well as bard, is too choice to be omitted:—

“This little elegy displays great merit; there runs a rich vein of poetical feeling through the whole, which renders it peculiarly interesting. It is very similar in style to some of the effusions of Montgomery's muse. We cannot select the sweetest flower from so choice a bouquet, where each thought is equally fragrant, but bring forward the following as a specimen of these blooming treasures:—

“The little rose-bud, putting forth
Its tender leaf with bright display,
Sunk in the glow of promis'd worth,
It fell to sickness and decay.
Thus fade the passing joys of earth,
They shine awhile, then—flee away.
A seraph pluck'd the shining flower,
And bade it bloom in Heaven's bower;
And now the heart breathes freely there,
'Mid brighter souls, in purer air.

V. 296.—Sir Egerton Brydges, the quondam proprietor of Lee Priory, Kent; a hospitable cavalier with a private printing apparatus, to which Mr. Archdeacon has been an important contributor. The number of copies printed never exceeded one hundred, which were all duly registered; the number of copies sold may amount to about .........

V. 297.—Mr. Boone, in his “Oxford Spy,” had discernment enough to see the corruptions and imperfections of University education, but lacked the power of exposing them with becoming spirit, though he had magnanimously declined the distinction of an honourable degree. In his subsequent poem of “Men and Things,” his discernment abandoned him without being replaced by any redeeming excellence. As to his “Historical Essay,” published after it had failed at Oxford, the less we say of it the more kindly we shall act towards its author.

V. 299.—The Honourable and Reverend William Herbert (uncle to Lord Porchester, who has written verses on a Nigger Prince), not content with his first dull and wearisome poem, still persecutes us at intervals with “Hedin, or the Spectre of the Tomb, a Tale from the Danish History.” “The Wierd Wanderer of Jutland, a Tragedy.” “Julia Montalban (that is, Julia de Roubigné), a Tale,” &c.

V. 301.—See Conder's "Star in the East," a Sermon in verse.

V. Id.—Major Maxwell is a marvellous man, to judge from his "Battle

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Who cares if GOWER tempt th' offended gods,
TOWNSEND with Pæans, RICHARDSON with odes,
Subjoining wisely, e'er their flattery cools,
Fourscore encomiums from as many fools?
Who cares for JOYCE, HYDE, SULLIVAN,—or you,
ROLLS, BOWRING, CARRINGTON, DOWNES, WILSON, THEW?
305

of the Bridge, or Pisa Defended, a Poem in Ten Cantos. Edinburgh, 1823." Here's a specimen of a mad song:—

"There's a bird in the air,
There's a fish in the sea,
And the fish and the bird
Will come at a word,
And the bird and the fish
Will come at a wish, &c.
There's a stone on the ground,
There's a flow'r on the tree,
And the stone and the flow'r
Submit to my pow'r,
And the flow'r and the stone
Submit to my throne, &c.
—The bird is a dove,
And that is my love;
The fish is a shark
That bites in the dark,
The stone is a millstone to hang round my neck,
And the flow'r amaranthine my bosom to deck !!!"

V. 302.—"Dramas of the Ancient World, by David Lyndsay." More mysteries!

V. 303.—By defacing Goëthe in English verse, and translating indifferent German love-songs into very indifferent English stanzas.

V. 304.—See "The Pæan of Oxford!!" by W. C. Townsend, B. A." We trust this deluded young man will be persuaded by his relatives to embrace a more honourable cause.

V. Id.—Mr. Richardson—David Lester Richardson, Esq.—Author of "Sonnets and Odes, written chiefly in India;" a gentleman whose command over the country newspapers is so extensive, that the persons connected with the paragraph department alone could, in any county, return him an M.P. without opposition. In the Sheffield Iris and the Waterford Mail, the Manchester Mercury and the Maidstone Gazette, the Ayr and Wigtonshire Courier and the Greenock Advertiser, in every sixpenny-worth of Sunday criticism that is shoved about from county to county, like pawns over a chess-board, Mr. Richardson is suffered to *explain* himself. See his advertisements in the London papers, with near one hundred quotations from the above and similar journals.

V. 307.—"The Lay of Truth, by the Rev. J. Joyce, A. M."

V. Id.—Mr. George Hyde has committed two plays, Alphonzus and Love's Victory;—the first not produced on the stage,—the latter speedily turned off.

V. Id.—Robert Sullivan, one of Campbell's New Monthly jobbers, has lately republished his "Silent River," and "The Faithful and Forsaken;" Dramatic Poems.

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Sons of the rod confest, whose very name
Were just enough to damn you into fame;
For MEDWIN writhing 'neath the critic's smart,
Or READ expiring of a "Broken Heart?"
Let CROLY print for fame, and LEE for bread,
Plays not intended to be played—or read;
CAMPBELL, brave bard, from OSSIAN's spell break loose,
315
And tune his bagpipe to the "Birth of Bruce;"

V. 308.—Mrs. Henry Rolls, a very determined lady, authoress of "Legends of the North, or the Feudal Christmas."

V. Id.—See John Bowring's "Hymns from the German, Swedish, Danish, and Dutch;" published as a sequel to his "Matins and Vespers."

V. Id.—N. T. Carrington, author of the "Banks of Tamar," and "Dartmoor, a Descriptive Poem." See also Amos Cottle's Poem on the same subject,—forming a sweet pair of failures from the editor's box of the Royal Society of Literature.

V. Id.—See "The Proud Shepherd's Tragedy, a Scenic Poem, in Ten Scenes, edited by Joseph Downes,"—*a satiric upon mad authors*.

V. Id.—"Poems, by Mrs. Cornwall Baron Wilson, authoress of Astarte."

V. Id.—William Thew's "Poems on Various Subjects, chiefly Theatrical." This gentleman inform us, in a note to "Poor Jessy," a lamentable tale of desertion, "that, for the last fifteen years of his life, he has been endeavouring to obtain a thorough knowledge of the human heart; and is firmly of opinion, that men in general are great rascals." Will he allow us to add our testimony, that the poetical portion of them are in general more fools than knaves?

V. 311.—Of Lord Byron's biographer we shall have more to say anon; suffice it in this place to observe, that he is the author of "Azuaherius, a Mystery."

V. 312.—Again our ingenious and illustrious friend Read. If Mr. F. H. Daily is the Tom Moore of the PUMP-ROOM SCHOOL, Read is the Bath Byron. He lives at "Bellevue Terrace," but apparently does not visit much, holding "communion with the elements," and conversing principally with "the dark-blue ocean." From the balcony of a Bath Terrace, Read invokes the unseen ministers of the storm,—philanders with the rainbows,—and notices nothing under the degree of thunder and lightning. Such are the fit companions of a great poet!

V. 313.—Rev. G. Croly, author of "The Angel of the World, a Poem;" and of "Cataline, a Play, adapted for the Closet;"—*query, for which shelf?*

V. Id.—Miss Lee has just printed a German tragedy, with English words, entitled "The Three Strangers," which has, we believe, been attempted upon the stage, but we can get no certain information on the subject.

V. 315.—The name of Hugh Campbell has been unexpectedly introduced, and thereby hangs a tale. μυρίοι αὐτόι, βίαι, Πλημαδοί—that is to say, we are about to commemorate an angry communication from Peele's Coffee-House. It was on Friday the twelfth of May of the present year, that an unpaid and wafered epistle was handed by the twopenny postman to our publisher, and forwarded by him to No. 112, Pall-Mall. The letter itself was angry—

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WEFFEN and HUNT, (alas, poor TASSO's fate!)
What some call, "murder,"—and what some, "translate."

Or why the drama's freaks and fooleries trace,
The Frenchman's triumph, and our own disgrace? 320
Why note the tawdry scenes, the tinsel show,
Where glasses glitter, and gas-lanthorns glow?
Where boats of paper throng the pasteboard shore,
And torrents thunder down the dark trap-door?
Christmas! not thine alone, as once, the time
Devote to children's Punch and Pantomime;
Short was the reign of genies, witches, sprites,
E'en Mother Goose but lived her forty nights;
Now fairies sing, and devils dance to hear
Their charter'd reign extends from year to year; 330
Old Nick renews with joy the sorcerer's bond,
And charms with twelve-month's spell his batter'd wand;
Clown, Pantaloon, their monstrous maws regale,
And Wantley's Dragon wags his brittle tail.

O Drury, Drury! should a second fire
E'er swallow thee, as once it gulped'd thy sire,
May I stand by, and, heedless of thy screams,
Like Quixote's barber, feed the glowing flames!

its contents a remonstrance against the Dunciel, and a sheet of waste
paper, confessedly stolen from the pocket of an old coat in Rag-Fair, being
a sheet of prefatory dedication from the above mentioned poem, with unkind
and condemnatory remarks, pointed out to the notice of the Star Cham-
ber. The signature subjoined was " Q. in the Corner." Our curio-
sity was excited, and our chariot-horses stopped ere long at the dingy
tobacco-smelling lists of the unhappy sojourners in a Fleet Street tavern,-
in vain we glanced over the R's, Rose was not there,-in vain our eyes
tolled along the B's, no unhappy leader of the Pump-Room School was
visiting the metropolis,-we fled to the end of the alphabet, Watts was
wanting! We felt disheartened, and were about to pay our courtesies to
Pecle by reading "the Globe of yesterday," and drinking ground mahogany
called coffee, when our attention was arrested by the following shrill
sounds, apparently proceeding from a fat gentleman in a corner box,-
"Cosnett, some potatoes!" The mystery was explained.

V. 317.—J. H. Wiffen, translator of Garcilasco de Vega, and of Tasso's
“Jerusalem Delivered.”

V. Id.—J. H. Hunt has also done Tasso into English, and pleased Mr.
Gifford.

V. 322.—The introduction of gas-lamps, reflected by numberless little
mirrors, has been found a successful source of stage effect, in multiplying the
light, and adding an appearance of extent to the scenery.

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"Take, take," I'd cry, "what generous fate awards,
From Critic hands a hecatomb of bards.
Lo! at thy altar, sinking pile, are plac'd
The choicest dainties of dramatic taste.
Priests of the Stage, what have we here? begin!—
Mirandola by CORNWALL !—hurl it in!
This CROLY'S Cataline, "Love's Victory" this,
And here "The Carib Chief" by HORACE TWISS.
SHIEL, SHIEL again! the dullest dolt in print,—
Here's "Ramah Droog"—beware! there's powder in't.
A lord! a lord!—what means that noise and bustle?
"Don Carlos, Sir, a tragedy by RUSSELL." 350
"Juan in Ireland!"—zounds, a precious dunce!
But good as new,—'t was only acted once.
Here's SHEE's Alasco—hold! the fellow brav'd
GEORGE COLMAN's puny spite—let him be sav'd.
Light as a leaf—your "Conscience," Mr. HAYNES; 355
Heavy as lead—a tragedy of PAYNE'S;

V. 347.—Mr. Shiel's tragedies are always well christened, witness the
titles of "The Apostate," and "Evadne, or the Statue;" as they are so
short-lived, we should recommend him in future to half-baptize them.

V. 348.—Cobb's opera of "Ramah Droog, or Wine does Wonders," was
lately revived at one of our winter houses, with the interesting addition of
several pitch'd battles on the stage, sustained by upwards of twenty corporals
in his Majesty's Artillery.

V. 350.—"DON CARLOS, a Tragedy, by LORD JOHN RUSSELL,"—the
feeblest production of the present day: though perhaps we might quote, as
an exception to this remark, the "Nun of Arrouca," a prose tale, by the same
noble author. Oh! my good Lord John, if you must amuse yourself by
scribbling, stik to the compilation of post octavo memoirs.

V. 351.—The monstrous absurdity, dullness, and obscenity of this piece,
intended merely as a vehicle for his Majesty's tour to Ireland, brought it
the reception it merited, though the manager contrived to escape the pil-
lory.

V. 354.—On the subject of the stage licensor, we shall have further re-
marks to make in a subsequent part of this poem. Mr. Shee's play had
little enough of dramatic talent, and even the preface is written with acri-
mony and vulgarity; still the curtailments of Mr. Colman were no less than
an infringement on his property, and the conduct of that gentleman, through-
out this and other transactions, deserved sound flagellation.

V. 355.—The "Conscience" of Mr. Haynes, and the "Brutus" of Mr.
Howard Payne, two successful tragedies, are both charming absurdities in
their different styles,—the one flimsy and flippant, though imaginative enough,
in every point of view,—the other dull, sombre, and as majestic as Tom
Thumb.

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BUCKE !—what of him ? “ Th' Italians”—to the fire,
Though with him “ Nature's Harmonies” expire;
Here's the “ Stout Gentleman,”—make way, make way,—
And “ Pride shall have a Fall,”—this very day !
360

O! what a list through Glory's trump to squeak,
And drown poor England in discordant shriek !
England! no more submit, like jaded hack,
That knaves should flog, or fools should pat thy back ;
No more thy fading fame in silence see,
Blush for thy blockheads ere they blush for thee.
But, oh! how faint thy lonely stars appear,
Wrapt in the mists they strive in vain to clear ;
Round the bright path impervious Dullness flings
Its sombre veil, and opes its murky wings.
370

Magician CRABBE ! perchance one golden key,
Opening the gate of tears, was giv'n to thee;
Nor shrinks the soul enfeebled ; let thine art
Drain the flush'd eye, and probe the shudd'ring heart,
Nor judge the verse that bids the insensate feel,
Too bitter poison, or o'er-tempered steel.
375

CAMPBELL, for shame ! thy paltry trade forego,
Leave Magazines to COLBURN, SMITH & Co.;
Theodric, weazen child, to own disdain,
Write for renown, and be thy self again !
380

V. 357.—Mr. Charles Bucke, author of the “Beauties, Harmonies, and Sublimities of Nature,” in four post octavo volumes, published also the “Italians, or The Fatal Accusation,” with a preface containing his correspondence with Peter Moore, and with the defaulter, Mr. Kean, who had excused himself from sustaining the chief part in the tragedy. Appended is the author’s opinion of his own play, transcribed from the morning papers; which concludes, by assuring us that, however it may have been shut out from the stage, “the Italians will still survive in the closet, at least, the memory of Mr. Kean.

V. 359.—Of the “Stout Gentleman” it was sufficient condemnation, that not even Matthews could prolong its existence to a second night.

V. 360.—An eminent instance of vitiated taste was manifested in the applause bestowed on this silly comedy; the grand scene was a prison-harangue to a mob of felons, and the burthen of the plot the long threadbare joke of “the Tenth don't dance.”—“the Tenth are not connubial!”—and so forth. It was rapturously puffed and applauded for three weeks, and then with its author, George Croly, laid quietly in the lumber-room.

V. 371.—Crabbe must now be considered the great original poet of his country; we may expect others as fanciful as Moore, and as pathetic as Rogers, but the stern, stubborn nature of Crabbe could not easily be replaced.

372.—See Gray's “Progress of Poesy.”

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ROGERS awake! and own that cold neglect
Chills not the bosom, though the hand be checked;
'Twas thine to sing how trembles Human Life,
As prone to joy or sorrow, peace or strife;
Some few perchance have listened, and for such
Re-string the chords thy hand alone may touch;
One heart-felt sigh that fears to weep aloud,
Is worth ten thousand plaudits of the crowd.
385

Meek without flattery, bold without pretence,
Who taught that Fancy spurns not Common Sense,
Neglected WILSON wings his lonely flight,
Bright as a rainbow, whimsical as bright;
Where pale Disease draws pestilential breath,
And London sorrows o'er the bed of death.
390

Forlorn MONTGOMERY, is thy spirit fled?
Enchanting CAREY, are thy laurels dead?
Smiles not for thee Italia's flowery way?
Shall none but DANTE tempt thy steps to stray?
Lo! MITCHELL bids thy trembling hand aspire,
And share with him the Athenian's Comic lyre.
400

And deem not ye, who kneel at SHAKSPEARE's throne,
From Britain's stage her last of poets flown.
KNOWLES yet survives, the OTWAY of his age,
Sole prop and honour of our falling stage;
Let British eyes Rome's mighty moral view,
And British tears confess that moral true.
The Tribune's lust,—he feels and feeds its growth,—
The slave—the pander—shall they scorn an oath?
The virgin's fall—this, this alone, could save,—
Th' avenging parent claims the life he gave;
Stifles in death the coward caitiff's cries,
Bewilder'd clasps his frantic brain, and dies!
405
410

V. 383.—Is it not strange that “The Human Life” of Rogers should be forgotten, while L. E. L. and Alaric A. Watts are in daily demand?

V. 391.—See Professor Wilson's “City of the Plague;” a poem of exceeding beauty; yet who ever reads it?

V. 399.—Mr. Mitchell's beautiful version of several plays of Aristophanes has received a most valuable addition in Mr. Carey's translation of the Frogs.

V. 403.—Sheridan Knowles, author of “Virgininus,” decidedly the finest English tragedy since the days of Shakspeare, with the single exception of Otway's Venice Preserved.

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Nor less the Tragic Muse, august and free,
Turns, youthful BEDDOES, anxious turns to thee;
Language of love, long lost, thy scenes restore,
And passion breathes in poetry once more;
Resume the task thy boyhood lov'd so well,
And deign (no mean submission!) to excel.

415

Dark rose the day on him, and dark it lour'd,
Whose dying notes from famish'd lips were pour'd;
Who grasp'd the Theban shell, and struck a tone
No master yet had wakened—save its own.
Sad was his lot; nor slow the tear that greets
Thy blighted triumph, young ENDYMION KEATS;
Dawning once more, thy heathen Heaven displays
Ideal fabrics to th' enthusiast's gaze;
All the bright dreams those fancied realms dispense,
And all on earth that charms the waking sense,
The spangled air, the heavens of fretted gold,
Grey ocean teeming with its wrecks of old,
Bow'r and cool fountain, lawn and shadowy grove,
Fair as the Spring, and sweet as Dian's love.
Indignant Sience saw and mourned her son,
She mark'd his honour, as his grave, her own!

420

425

430

But lost, too early lost, her favourite child
One halo cast o'er Erin's lonely wild,
Then bow'd his head; no funeral knell was rung,
No requiem haunted from his country's tongue,
But stern and just, impartial Virtue gave
A life in poverty, in peace a grave.
Rous'd at the tale, forthwith Renown arose,
Which, cold through life, from buried genius grows;
As the lone flow'r that decks the barren health
When pluck'd and wither'd yields its sweetest breath:
Whilst he who lov'd the bard respects his bier,
And sheds o'er martyr'd WOLFE a Christian's tear.

435

440

445

TO BE CONTINUED.

V. 414.—Lovell Beddoes, author of the “Bride's Tragedy,”—a tragedy of great promise from the pen of a minor.

V. 421.—We allude to Mr. Abraham Moore, a young man of extraordinary talent, who died in poverty, and bequeathed to the world his Translation of Pindar,—a work rarely equalled in the History of Classical Translations. It is should be reprinted at a moderate price.

V. 424.—See the beautiful poem of poor Keats alluded to above.

V. 445.—The Rev. J. Russell's “Remains and Memoirs of Mr. Charles Wolfe;” a most interesting and affecting volume.

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PARLIAMENTARY JOBS. NO. II.

THE FAMINE JOB.

The distresses of the country have, during the whole of this year, afforded prolific matter of complaint to all those individuals, who have not been persuaded by certain eloquent orators, that these distresses merely arose from our very prosperity. This paradox ably proved, or ingeniously argued, might satisfy some; but it did not satisfy the very gentlemen who promulgated it. Our Ministers, at the beginning of this Session, were quite aware that ruin was stalking through the land. What did they do? They came down to the House with a speech from the Throne, which increased the panic; but, by adroitly managing to lay their sins on that universal scape-goat, THE CURRENCY, they contrived to calm the House before they proceeded to dash their estimates through the Committee of Supply. Scarcely had they got through this most important part of their business, when the evil, which had been growing up in the manufacturing districts under their very eyes, and with their especial knowledge,—the evil which threatened popular commotions, and against which the Right Honourable Secretary for the Home Department had provided, by doubling the military force in those districts,—became so formidable, that popular commotions did ensue, and the bayonet was found necessary to repress the desperate and ravenous victims of *liberal principles*.

Then was it that the House was first informed of the evil, and called (as many of them as remained to wade through the less important business of the Session) instantaneously to *legislate*.

The operatives, as our modern philosophers call them, were starving from want of employment. The measure, which the Ministers proposed, is intended to supply them with bread, and to leave their chance of getting employment to fortune or the Board of Trade. The Ministers—the successors of Galileo and Turgot—inundate the whole country with 400,000 quarters of corn bonded in the warehouses, and they obtain a licence from Parliament to admit corn to the extent of 500,000 quarters more. They, at first, supported these propositions on the necessity of giving the operatives cheap bread; but, being pressed rather closely on this point, Mr. Canning, in a succeeding debate, became inspired, and prophesied FAMINE! He said, that the price of corn had been gradually rising,—that the stock in the country was very small,—and that, if a famine were to ensue before the next Session of Parliament, it would be vastly distressing for Ministers to act on their own responsibility! Responsibility again! Time was, when a Minister of England courted, with a bold front, this bugbear RESPONSIBILITY; but our Governors of to-day start at the word responsibility, as timid deer at the sound of a bugle blast, and will extenuate their blunders, and find

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authorities for their mis-government, by quoting the opinions of their political antagonists, or the interested theories of political adventurers. We will not press, what appeared rather strange in Mr. Canning's argument, viz. that the poor operatives seemed entirely left out of the question, but we will proceed to examine each of the pleas thus set up. If Ministers proposed by this measure to supply the operatives with cheap bread, let us first inquire into the justice of that measure, and next the expediency.

Every one, who is ever so little acquainted with agricultural matters, even although he should not have read Mr. Jacob's entertaining Tour in Poland, for which Government gave him a thousand pounds, well knows, that the present price of corn is barely a remunerating price,—that the farmers are just now recovering from a period of the greatest distress, and most general ruin,—and that a very little will throw them back into the same situation, from which they can never again extricate themselves as they did before, possessing now no savings to pay their rents and taxes as they did possess in the former period of distress. They may be told by Mr. Canning or Mr. Huskisson, that the quantity of foreign corn to be admitted is trifling,—(only about 900,000 quarters!)—and that it will not operate to their disadvantage. If it does not operate to their disadvantage—or, in other words, if it does not make corn cheap, what benefit will accrue to the operatives? If, on the contrary, corn does fall, no sophistry in the world will be able to persuade the unhappy farmers that they may not thank Mr. Canning's two propositions for their inevitable ruin. In this position of affairs, it will naturally occur to the country in general, and to the farmers in particular, to consider how a measure can be justified, which relieves one class of the community by ruining another. Are not all men equally entitled to be protected by the laws of their country? Civil society is an institution of beneficence, and law itself is only beneficence acting by a rule. Men have a right to live by that rule; they have a right to justice. But the policy of our present Governors seems to be to withdraw the protection of the laws by turns from each of the different interests, as they emerge from their present difficulties only to be plunged into new ones. Is a riotous and rebellious multitude, ever ready to congregate for disorder, and, by reason of their concentration, difficult, above all others, to be controlled, are these men to bully an Imperial Parliament into a measure, only advisable, because they misconceive it to be beneficial?

But after all, who has said that this admission of foreign corn will benefit the operatives one jot? The operatives have said so themselves, and their sentiments, we must all confess, ought to be attended to. Such is the doctrine at least of those accomplished statesmen, who would "apply refined philosophy to the common occurrences of life!" No one, however, can persuade

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103

us that, if a man cannot earn money to buy bread, it will make any difference to him, whether bread may be bought for tenpence or fivepence the loaf. If a man cannot earn more than fourpence half-penny or sixpence a day, he will never be able to support his family, even if he could get bread for nothing; and to legislate with a view to supplying him with food, is the height of absurdity. No! Give him employment, and he will not want cheap bread.

We must next consider the second point of Mr. Canning's defence,—namely, that a famine is to be apprehended. Now, does Mr. Canning ask the House of Commons to pass his bill on the ground that famine is to be apprehended before our next harvest? and does he pretend to say, that he will not then be legislating on the general principle of the corn laws?—all discussion concerning which has been so feelingly deprecated, so subtilely avoided! It is impossible! Is not a famine equally, nay, much more, to be apprehended in other years than in the present? But we ask Mr. Canning, have such famines existed? Are we to believe with him, and that sublime logician, the honourable member for Bridgenorth, "that, in the usual state of the country, taking one year with another, the produce is not equal to the consumption?"

We recommend our readers seriously to consider these points; we call on the country gentlemen to protect themselves, and those whom they represent. Let them stand firm;—let them fill the ranks of a constitutional and English Opposition with Sir Thomas Lethbridge and Sir Edward Knatchbull, and not suffer themselves to be cajoled by artful representations of a fictitious prosperity, or blinded by the wretched and evasive delusions of the most dangerous rulers that a country can be cursed with—POLITICAL SOPHISTS! We tell the gentlemen of England once for all—they are in danger!

We understand that there will be upwards of three hundred and twenty-five lawyers in the next Parliament. The odd twenty-five are attorneys who have made fortunes by the Bubble Companies.

Mr. Agar Ellis's volume, from the French, on the Man of the Iron Mask, is extremely interesting. It is difficult even to whisper scepticism in the face of documents so convincing; but we must still express our surprise that, in the seventeenth century, less complicated means were not recurred to, in order to reward the patriotic exertions of the Secretary of a petty Italian Prince.

Serious complaints have been made to us of the tyrannical and arbitrary conduct of the Church Commissioners. It is said to

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*De Vavasour, a Tale of the Fourteenth Century.* Colburn,
3 vols. post 8vo.

We enter our most decided protest against the present sys-
tem of manufacturing history into novels. To any mighty master
—to William Shakspeare or Walter Scott—every thing is to be
allowed which tends in the least degree to increase the reality
of their inventions. A violent burst of passion is more real when
it is represented as proceeding from a being who we know has
breathed. We enter into the melancholy story of Mary Stuart
or Queen Katherine, with deeper interest then we should into
that of an imaginary Princess. But in proportion as we permit
the writer to call in the aid of history to his fiction, do we ex-
pect from him a more masterly command over our feelings and
our minds, because, as we in a manner allow him the characters,
we expect his whole powers to be concentrated upon their de-
velopment. The author of Henry the Fourth, and the author of
Ivanhoe, look upon history as upon an *accessary*, which will
assist them in their primary design, which is to exercise an in-
fluence over the passions of the reader, but the "Historical
Novelists" of the present day look to history as to a *principal*,
and depend upon interesting their readers by the details of chroni-
clers—by accurate descriptions of antient costumes, of antient
combats, and of antient festivals. This is making the merit of
the play depend not upon the development of passion, nor the
interest of plot, but upon the accuracy of costume and propriety
of scenery. Why not at once give us elegant reprints of Frois-
sart and of Monstrelet, of Holinshed and Hall?

The work at present before us is one of the feeblest that we
have long met with. The concocter of it is evidently unable to
construct the commonest sentence, and the imbecile dulness of
the narrative is perpetually varied by a sort of nerveless flippan-
cy, which, we suppose, is intended to be very smart, but which
is extremely disgusting, and not seldom extremely vulgar.
There is an old and rather celebrated Latin treatise by De Va-
vasour, the Jesuit, de Ludicra Dictione. Apparently the present
work is another Dissertation on the same subject by a desend-
ant of the family.

SOCIETY OF ANTIQUARIES.

This Society has just published fourteen plates of the Abbey
Church of Tewkesbury. They are engraved by J. Basire, from
drawings by F. Nash. At a time when Carter's Gothic drawings,
inaccurate and incorrect as they were, were thought wonderful
efforts, Mr. Basire's engravings might have passed for tolerable,

THE STAR CHAMBER.

107

and, accordingly, they went very well together through the
earlier works of the Antiquarian Society. Of all Mr. Basire's
miserable attempts at engraving Gothic subjects, the plates at
present before us are the most contemptible, and equally disgrace
the artist who executes, and the society which publishes them.
They are coarse, unfeeling, and inaccurate, notwithstanding
their large dimensions gave ample room for the most nicely cor-
rect delineations.

Let our readers look at plates thirty-nine and forty, the longi-
tudinal and the transverse section of the Abbey, and at the
plates immediately following them, which are attempts at a de-
lineation of some of the pieces of ornamental sculpture; and
then, let him ask himself, whether he can see in them either ac-
curacy, knowledge of the architecture, or feeling and taste in
the expression. It is a shame to the learned and laborious Society
of Antiquaries that, after all the sums of money which their Ca-
thedral Antiquities and Vetusta Monumenta have cost them, they
should have been outdone in the works they have produced by
a man, who, at the beginning of his career, had nothing but
enthusiasm and perseverance to assist him in his labours, or cor-
rect his ignorance. A short historical notice, and explanations
of the views, from the elegant pen of that accomplished antiqua-
ry Mr. Amyot, accompany the plates.

NOTICE TO CORRESPONDENT.

The communication from Albemarle Street has been received, and will
not be forgotten.

Advertisements.

POPULAR NEW WORKS,

VIVIAN GREY.

In 2 vols. post 8vo. 18s.

NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS' ENTERTAINMENTS, Selected from
the original ORIENTAL MS. by JOS. VON HAMMER, and now first translated
into English by the Rev. GEORGE LAMB. In 3 vols. small 8vo. 18s.

108

THE STAR CHAMBER.

SANDOVAL; or, THE FREEMASON, a Spanish Tale of PRESENT TIMES. By the Author of "Don Esteban," In 3 vols. post Svo. II. 8s. 6d.

BRAMBLETYE HOUSE; or, Cavaliers and Roundheads. A Novel. By one of the Authors of "The Rejected Addresses." The Second Edition. In 3 vols. post Svo. price II. 11s. 6d.

THE LAST MAN. A Romance. By the Author of "Frankenstein," "Castruccio," &c. In 3 vols. post Svo. II. 7s.

SYLVA; or, A DISCOURSE of FOREST TREES, and the Propagation of Timber; to which is added the "TERRA." By JOHN EVELYN, Esq. A new Edition, with Notes by the late A. HUNTER, Esq. F. R. S. &c. In 2 vols. 4to. Embellished with numerous Plates. Price 4s. 10s. in boards.

MEMOIRS of the COUNTESS DE GENLIS. Vols. VII. and VIII, Being the conclusion of this interesting Work. Embellished with a Portrait of the Author in her Younger Days. Price 16s., and in French 14s.

"The Adventures of a Young Rifleman form one of the most entertaining volumes we have of late years met with. We can truly say, that the Rifleman's confessions will afford, to every one that makes the experiment, a delightful evening, and a harvest of valuable recollections."—Representative.

BURKE'S DICTIONARY of the PEERAGE and BARONETAGE of the UNITED KINGDOM, for 1820; with an Appendix, comprising the Prelates, the Surnames of Peers, Titles by Courtesy of their Eldest Sons, Names of Heirs-Presumptive, &c. Dedicated to the King. In one handsome volume, crown Svo. With Plates of the Arms, beautifully engraved by Neele. Price 18s.

THE STAR CHAMBER.

109

## NEW WORKS IN THE PRESS,

THE LIFE and TIMES of FREDERICK REYNOLDS (the Dramatist), written by himself, 2 vols. Svo. with portrait.

GASTON DE BLONDEVILLE; a Romance, with some Poetical Pieces. By Anne Radcliffe, Author of "The Romance of the Forest;" "Mysteries of Udolpho;" "Italian," &c. to which will be prefixed, a Memoir of the Author, and Extracts from her Diary. Published from the Originals, in the possession of William Radcliffe, Esq. 4 vols. post Svo.

THE LIVES of the Honourable SIR DUDLEY NORTH, Commissioner of the Customs, and afterwards of the Treasury, to King Charles II.; and of the Honourable and Reverend Dr. JOHN NORTH, Master of Trinity College, Cambridge, and Clerk of the Closet to King Charles II. By the Hon. ROGER NORTH; with Notes and Illustrations. 2 vols. Svo.

DE VAVASOUR; a Tale of the Fourteenth Century. 3 vols. post Svo.

THE LIFE and CORRESPONDENCE of MAJOR CARTWRIGT. Edited by his Niece, S. D. CARTWRIGHT. 2 vols. Svo. with Portrait, &c.

REJECTED ARTICLES! 1 vol. Post Svo.

## Books Printed for WILLIAM MARSH, 145, Oxford Street, (next to Fladong's Hotel).

In the Press, MEMOIRS of an ENGLISH COUNTESS, WRITTEN BY HERSELF; comprising numerous Anecdotes and Sketches of her Illustrious and Fashionable Contemporaries. 3 vols. 12mo.

Just Published, NED CLINTON; or, THE COMMISSARY. comprising Adventures and Events during the Peninsular War: with Curious and Original Anecdotes of Military and other remarkable Characters. 3 vols. 12mo. II. 1s.

Just Published, A DEFENCE of CAPTAIN MEDWIN from the Calumnies of the Reviewers. Svo. 2s.

In the Press, A TREATISE on the GAME of CHESS, by Gioachimo Greco. Translated from the French. To which are added, numerous Remarks, Critical and Explanatory. By W. LEWIS. Second Edition. Svo. 8s.

110

THE STAR CHAMBER.

Just Published, The First and Second Games of the MATCH at CHESS now pending between the LONDON and EDINBURGH CHESS CLUBS, with numerous Variations and Remarks. By W. LEWIS. Svo. 3s.

The Third and Fourth Games are in the Press, and will soon be ready for Publication. Svo. 3s.

In the Press, TALES in VERS', Illustrative of the Several Petitions of the LORD'S PRAYER. By the Rev. H. H. LYTE. 12mo. 5. 6d.

WILLIAM MARSH,
BOOKSELLER, PUBLISHER, BOOKBINDER, & STATIONER,
No. 145, OXFORD STREET,
(NEXT TO FLADONG'S HOTEL),
LONDON.

WILLIAM MARSH returns his most grateful acknowledgements to those numerous and distinguished persons who have honoured him with their kind and very liberal patronage; and he begs leave most respectfully to acquaint them, that he has constantly on Sale a large Collection of Popular Works in every Department of Literature, in tasteful and elegant Bindings; including Miniature Editions of Books in Poetry, Morals, and Prose Works of Imagination, particularly adapted for Presents. Also a large Assortment of Bibles and Prayer Books, in various Bindings of Calf, Russia, and Morocco. Almanacks, Souvenirs, Repositories, &c. &c. in great variety; and Albums, with Gilt and Engraved Bramah Locks, most elegantly Bound.

King's Theatre, Italian Opera; The French Theatre; and Theatres Royal, Covent Garden and Dury Lane.

WILLIAM MARSH has also the honour to inform the Nobility, Subscribers to the Opera, and the Public, that, having at an early period secured the best Boxes in every part of the Opera House, he is now enabled to offer them for the Season, alternate Weeks, or Nightly, very considerably under the usual Prices. Also Box and Pit Tickets for the FRENCH THEATRE; and COMMODIOUS PRIVATE BOXES, with well-furnished Anti-Rooms, in the best Situations at the Theatres Royal Drury Lane and Covent Garden.

BOOKBINDING executed by the First Hands.—STATIONERY of every Description, of the very best Quality, and at the lowest Prices, a List of which is ready for delivery gratis.—VISITING CARDS.—ARMS, CRESTS, &c. Engraved and Printed in a superior Style.—NEWSPAPERS Supplied in Town, or forwarded to all Parts of the Kingdom.

THE STAR CHAMBER.

No. 7.]

WEDNESDAY, MAY 24th, 1826.

[Price 6d.]

"He would diverse times goe into the Star Chamber, as occasion would serve : there he spared neither high nor lowe, but judged every estate according to his merits and desertes." CAVENDISH'S LIFE OF WOLSEY.

VINDICÆ JUDICIALES;
THE AUTHORITY OF THE GREAT TRIBUNAL assertion.

Nothing can be more unjust, nothing more ridiculous, than the clamour which has been raised on every side against THE STAR-CHAMBER. From the moment of our first announcement, and before a single opportunity had arrived of developing our principles or our motives, we were assailed by every term of defiance and detestation, which the consciousness of guilt, united with supposed security from chastisement, could suggest. Our very name seems to have startled those, who had reason to dread an open scrutiny. We were not, therefore, unprepared to discover that our integrity had been impeached, our intentions falsified, and our judgment impugned by the abettors of those offences, which would probably be subjected to our animadversion. Nor did it escape us, that while some were thus openly engaged in aspersing the character of our undertaking, others were employing themselves with more caution, but not less activity, in silencing the remarks and quelling the expectations of friends and enemies alike, in the miserable hope that a design, so dangerous to their own dishonourable pursuits, might fall unnoticed to the ground, from mere inability to attract, at its commencement, the notice of the public. The artifices of both parties were frustrated; THE STAR-CHAMBER lives and flourishes, is admired and feared.

We do not wish to deny, that we have hitherto been materially distinguished from most periodical writers, by a tone of sarcasm and invective, sometimes merely playful, but occasionally approaching almost to bitterness. But, in truth, this tone has not been adopted either in an unadvised or an unworthy spirit. The public press, which ought ever to stand forward as the watchful and disinterested promoter of public virtue and welfare, is itself become a monstrous and intolerable grievance. The Journalists of the Metropolis are but senseless puppets, which are made to talk and act mechanically, according as the prompter, concealed below, speaks for them and moves them. Of these, some are bound to a political servitude, and justify, with all the warmth of patriotism, the sources of their own bribery and corruption; others are at the disposal of a literary pedlar, whose wares they exhibit on the market with all the importance of critical approbation: some are barely supported by a poor and nervous individual, who will crouch to the meanest for protection; others are wielded by an arbitrary gang, who

112

THE STAR CHAMBER.

hold every feeling of dignity and generosity in contempt. Not one of all those, which are calculated by their talents to influence the sentiments of the people—not one, we will venture to repeat, is so disengaged from the trammels of interest or private prejudice, that it can with impartiality pass sentence on the conduct of any person distinguished either in politics or literature. Instead, therefore, of an impartial commentary on passing events, we have the events themselves garbled and distorted to accord with opinions previously made up, and compromised with the ingenuity of a pleader, instead of being sifted with the accuracy and candour which befit a public writer.

In this degraded state of our temporary literature, divided as it is between lawless despotism and slavish dejection, it appeared to us an imperative demand upon every true defender of our national independence, that a sudden and decisive blow should be struck in defence of British spirit and integrity; and such was the origin of THE STAR CHAMBER.—We have come forward with no parade of mysterious connexions, no captivating professions of amusement; we offer neither the fables of a travelling, nor the whinings of a poetess; and yet there is no occupation, no invention of man, that may not be submitted to our observation. But it is to rectify and instruct that we aim, not to pamper or indulge; and as correction is a scare-crow to the abandoned, our enemies (for such they have proclaimed themselves, and such we are proud to consider them) have denounced us as innovating and abusive levellers, whose trade is slander. Against such a charge we loudly protest; we satirize, because satire is the most effectual scourge for those vices, which the law either cannot, or will not, interdict; we satirize the noxious excrescences of our country, that we may afterwards adorn the space laid open by their removal; and, in so doing, we are no more guilty of wanton violence, than is the architect of wanton devastation, when he removes a deformed and ruinous edifice, to erect a new and nobler one upon its site. Neither is it true, that our hostilities are of a personal, rather than a general, tendency; we hate no man for his own sake; we neither envy rank and station, nor despise the reverse of them; we attack the principles and the action, while the individual himself is no more than the gilt frame-work, within which our picture is exhibited. We have held up to public indignation a revolutionary minister—we have exposed to public scorn a jobbing member of parliament—we have annihilated an ignorant critic—we have derided a paltry poet—but the offences, not the individuals, attracted our remark; and we should have acted the same had the criminal been a PITT instead of a HUSKISSON, a BYRON instead of a BARRY CORNWALL.

Others, again, complain that we point out no discrimination of character, and that we abuse or commend without qualification. Were we called upon to notice domestic behaviour, or to compare together the talents and virtues of several

THE STAR CHAMBER.

113

persons, we should feel it requisite to observe all the minute gradations that lie between either extreme. But the stage of public life admits of no mediocrity, nor does the Satirist of public conduct acknowledge any. The man in office either does, or does not, adequately fulfil his duty; if the former, he is to be supported; if otherwise, to be opposed; any intermediate measures are worse than useless, they unveil his errors without contributing towards his punishment or his removal. And it is precisely the same case with candidates for literary distinction; some few are worthy of remembrance, the rest only of oblivion; the former will not stand condemned for a few inaccuracies, nor will the latter save themselves by an occasional charm; for the middling mass of writers, praise may be purchased from the periodical drivellers of their own scale; if they intrude upon our notice, our notice must be as brief, as it is fatal.

Such, then, is the necessity which forces us to speak in satire, in bold and unflinching satire. We have no occasion to insist upon the remark, that mankind is constantly degenerating, though perhaps it may be plausibly maintained by every successive race of writers, who may choose to echo the complaint. But, in fact, NO CITY SHOULD BE WITHOUT ITS SATIRIST. Fashionable frivolities are soon succeeded by fashionable vices, and few are the misdemeanors in society, which may not be numbered under this head, and are more likely to be extirpated byridicule, than subdued by any sense of moral or religious obligation. Yet we cannot blind ourselves to the strange anomalies which disfigure, at this especial moment, the whole face of our beloved country. Are not the distinctions of worth and honor, talents and education, daily debilitated? Are not the advantages, both real and adventitious, of rank, fortune, and station, disfranchised of their authority? And shall we bend, like Oriental slaves, before our wavering rulers—that curious Cabal, which England in the plenitude of national courtesy, still styles a Cabinet—and is not the victim of misgovernment to be allowed the gratification of a sneer? Is the age of Sciolists to be spared? Is Hypocrisy still to issue her mandates from her sacred throne, and shall no unhallowed Sceptic of her sincerity dare to interrupt her silent blasphemy? Is the century of cant to pass undisturbed? Shall not, at least, one band of scholars be allowed to mourn over the fall of our once proud Literature? And may not the Saturnalia of our scribblers be varied by the endeavours of those, who presume to imagine that they may instruct the present, although they are so unfortunate as not to be wholly ignorant of the past? We will at least make the attempt, and should we eventually affect the METROPOLIS, we hope one day to influence the EMPIRE. We may fail in reforming the desperate, yet succeed in warning those who are hitherto unpolluted; and from nothing can we derive greater confidence, than from the terror we have already struck into the first victims of our rigour.

114

THE STAR CHAMBER.

A KEY TO VIVIAN GREY.

Vivian Grey, to use our publisher's phrase, is making a noise,
and he advises us, consequently, to have one of our most charac-
teristic articles upon it with all convenient speed. To please
Marsh, therefore, we are about to discourse upon this subject in
a manner which will probably make some people stare. We
passed this work over rather scurvy when it first came out. The
truth is, it was published early in the week, and we were un-
able to give anything like a formal criticism upon it in the number
in which it was first mentioned. We postponed, therefore, an ela-
borate notice of it until our next number: but the work was
read with such avidity, that, ere the week came round, the re-
view of it was rendered unnecessary. Nor are we, indeed, at the
present moment about to enter into any criticism of the work;
but we apologise to the author en passant, for not having display-
ed him in a manner more becoming his merits. Great results de-
pend upon the slightest incidents. Had Vivian Grey been pub-
lished on a Saturday, instead of a Monday or Tuesday, the Star
Chamber might have had the satisfaction of introducing him to
the notice of the public, assuredly, as one of the most lively,
agreeable, and clever fellows, that we have for a long time met
with. Enough of this;—the world wish to have some of the
mysteries of the work unravelled to them, and the primary ques-
tion is, “Who is the Author?—Not LORD GLENGALL, reader,
though he has modestly confessed it,—not LORD NORMANBY,
reader, though he has, as modestly, denied it. Neither is the Au-
thor of Vivian Grey, Mr. WARD or Mr. HOOKER. These names,
we believe, however, have not of late passed current, in spite
of the Irish Earl's reiterated asseverations.—LORD GLENGALL the
author of Vivian Grey! What next?—Another name has been
whispered through the town, and if we are to pay any credence
to a communication signed A. J. V., that name is the right one,
“a young gentleman of extraordinary abilities, hitherto un-
known!”—Illustrious and innocent young man!

To be brief—we do not believe Mr. A. J. V.'s communication,
(although he is doubtless the “young gentleman” himself.)—we
do not believe it, although, to use his own phrase, “his conjecture
almost amounts to conviction;”—we do not believe it for one
simple reason, because we know who the author of VIVIAN
GREY REALLY IS!

Circumstances at present prevent us from mentioning his
name,—Nay, smile not, reader this is no subterfuge. There is
nothing that takes place in the Literary World which is a secret
from us;—Nay, smile not again, this is no blustering.—Come
hither, Mr. Colburn, for we see a sceptical sneer upon your face.
“Come hither, my pretty page!”—How came the whole history
of the Lady's DAIRY to be revealed in the records of the Star-
Chamber, although you burnt every copy of that exquisite pec-
cadiHo with your own hand, and in secret?—Do you still smile?

THE STAR CHAMBER.

115

What, then, if we whisper in your trembling ear the name of the
real author of De Vavasour? What, if we strip the daw of his
borrowed feathers?—if we curtail, by a coronet, your catalogue of
noble authors? Your smile is vanished! We repeat, therefore,
again, in the most decided and unequivocal manner, that we
know the real author of VIVIAN GREY, and in the same spirit
we declare, that the author of Vivian Grey is not a very young
man, as has been industriously circulated; and, moreover, that
he was not previously unknown to Fame, though he might be so
as a Literary Character. Upon the perfect and complete ac-
curacy of these two assertions we stake the character of the Star-
Chamber, and we dare any one to impugn their veracity.

And now for the mysteries!—A noble and accomplished
Lady, whose name, if we were permitted, we should feel pride
in recording, has sent us an interleaved copy of the work in
question, full of MS. notes. From these we have drawn up a
paper which we have styled, “A Key to Vivian Grey.” There
is not a name in the whole work which has not its real proto-
type affixed to it in our interleaved copy; but some we are not
allowed to mention. One, in particular, even if we were per-
mitted, we should decline publishing, nor can we admire the
spirit in which the author of Vivian Grey has celebrated, in the
pages of a novel, the sorrows or the crimes of any living female.
He will most probably defend himself, by asserting that the cha-
racter is ideal; but this very circumstance aggravates the evil.
When truth is mixed up with falsehood, all is believed to be
genuine.

THE KEY.

Marquess of Carabas...........Marquess of C—
Mr. Foaming Fudge ............Mr. B—m
Mr. Charlatan Gas ............Rt. Hon. G. C—g
Colonel Delmington ............Colonel L—n
Lord Past Century ............Earl of E—n
Mr. Liberal Principles ........Mr. H—n
Lord Alhambra ...............Lord E—
Ernest Clay ................S—r G—, Esq.
The Duke of Waterloo ........Duke of W—
Prince Hungary ..............Prince E—g
Mrs. Million ....................Mrs. C—
Stapylton Toad ..............J—P—, Esq. M. P.
Mr. Parthenopex Puff ........Mr. S— R—
Lord Prima Donna ............Lord Wm. L—
Mr. Hargrave ................Mr. S—, M. P.
Marchioness of Almacks ........Marchioness of L—y
Liberal Snake ...............Mr. Mc'—h
Sir Christopher Mowbray ......Sir T. W—. Bart
Lady Doubtful ...............Lady B—
Prince Xtmnpqrtosklw........Prince G—t—f

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THE STAR CHAMBER.

Frederick Cleveland.................. R. A—, Esq.
Stanislaus Hoax.................... T— H—k, Esq.
Marquess of Grandgout............ Marq. of H—d
Mr. Stucco......................... Mr. N—h
Captain Tropic.................... Captain C—e
Lord Oceanville.................... Lord C—e
Mr. Justice St. Prose............ Mr. Justice P—
Vivacity Dull...................... H. T—, Esq.
Lady Soprano...................... Lady B—
Mrs. Delmont...................... Lady C—
Duke of Juggernaut.............. Duke of N—
Vivida Vis......................... J. W. C—, Esq.
Lord Lowersdale.................. Lord L—
Antilles......................... C. E—, Esq.
Colonial Bother'em.............. R. W. H—, Esq.
Lord Manfred..................... Lord D—
The Misses Otranto............... Misses B—.

(A Supplement, with Notes, is in preparation.)

Cosnett's novel, we understand, sells extremely well. The Rev. Sidney Smyth, a plain-spoken country curate, with whom Cosnett lived for some years when a young man, has reviewed Granby in the Edinburgh.—Such is the value of a good character to Literary Footmen! Cosnett has been praised by two of his masters, in both the great Literary Journals. We have also done our best for him, as in honor bound, for he served our aunt, Lady Selina Dart, both diligently and faithfully. He cleans plate admirably. Since the beauties of Granby have been pointed out by the Edinburgh and the Quarterly, the public have discovered that it is a production of great talent. Every one now dilates on the excellencies of a work which before was universally sneered at. Oh the sauce piquante of modern criticism, which can make even carrion palatable! The public are now devouring Granby with as much zest, as Gil Blas did the old cat which was so exquisitely puffed by his landlord, that he actually digested it as a young, sweet, and tender rabbit!

"Mr. Macculloch on Wages" is just out,—say the newspapers and placards; we should say that Mr. Macculloch had been out upon that and similar subjects for the last ten years.

P. W. W. is a very lively writer, but he should employ his talents on more interesting subjects. His account, however, of the Philomathic Society is extremely pointed, and shall appear in an early number. The sombre majesty of the meeting of Dunces is excessively ludicrous.

The Courier is in a great passion with our account of "the number of lawyers" who are to constitute, in a great degree,

THE STAR CHAMBER.

117

the next Imperial Parliament. If the Courier cannot keep his temper, we'll publish, in a supplementary sheet, the list of the Members of the next Parliament, before they are elected; and bet him a set of the Star Chamber against his afternoon Journal, that he will confess, at the next meeting, our list does not contain twenty errors.

The first number of a French newspaper published in London, bearing the title of "L'Echo de Paris," has been transmitted to us. It is a well concocted *resumé* of Parisian newspapers, with some original articles of merit, and appears altogether deserving of public patronage.

We beg to call the attention of our readers to the SALE OF USEFUL AND ORNAMENTAL WORK FOR THE BENEFIT OF THE DISTRESSED SPITALFIELDS WEAVERS, which is to take place at the Hanover Square Rooms on the 29th and 30th instant. The circular of the Committee requires no comment, and we insert it; but we must remark that, great as is our national distress at this period—perilous, most perilous, as is the situation of the vessel of the State at this very instant,—yet there never was a moment, when Englishmen had more reason to be proud of their country, and especially of their fair and noble-minded country-women. The universal spirit of charity which at present pervades the kingdom, reflects more lustre on the passing reign than half a thousand victories.

SALE OF USEFUL AND ORNAMENTAL WORK,

FOR THE BENEFIT OF THE DISTRESSED WEAVERS OF SPITALFIELDS,
At the Hanover Square Rooms, on the 29th and 30th of May,
UNDER THE PATRONAGE OF

HER ROYAL HIGHNESS THE DUCHESS OF CLARENCE,
HER ROYAL HIGHNESS THE DUCHESS OF KENT,

DUCHESS OF BEAUFORT,
MARCHIONESS OF LANSDOWNE,
MARCHIONESS OF CONYNGHAM,
MARCHIONESS OF SALISBURY,
MARCHIONESS DOWAGER OF SALISBURY,
COUNTESS OF LIVERPOOL,
COUNTESS OF WARWICK,
COUNTESS OF ABERDEEN,
LADY MARYBOROUGH,
LADY BARHAM,
LADY CHARLOTTE CALTHORPE,
LADY ELIZABETH O'BRYEN,
LADY GEORGIANA GRANVILLE RYDER,
DOWAGER LADY CROFT,
THE LADY MAYORESS,
MRS. CANNING,
MRS. DENHAM,
MRS. WALDO.

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Though the melancholy distress among the Weavers of Spitalfields, and the exemplary resignation with which they endure almost inconceivable privations, have already called forth the sympathy and assistance of their countrymen, yet want of employment still continues to a most lamentable degree, and deprives them of their sources of subsistence. Encouraged by the success which attended the Sale of Useful and Fancy Work for their benefit at Brighton, some Ladies are desirous of contributing towards the alleviation of their sufferings, by having a similar Sale in this Metropolis.

Their proposal having met with the entire approbation of all those Ladies to whom it has been communicated, the Committee flatter themselves that it only requires to be generally known to obtain that universal co-operation and support which alone can insure its success. The Committee earnestly appeal to the benevolence of those who have in their power the means of mitigating the sufferings of their fellow-creatures, to lend their aid in a cause which so powerfully comes home to their feelings. As the urgency of the case forbids all unnecessary delay, the Sale has been fixed for the end of the month. Such Ladies as are willing to contribute towards this laudable design are requested to transmit articles of Useful and Fancy Work to any of the Ladies below mentioned, who will also be happy to receive Subscriptions towards defraying the expenses of the Sale:—

The LADY MAYORESS, Mansion-House; MRS. ALEXIS DOXAT, 16, Finsbury Square; the MISSES LLOYD, 22, Queen Street, Cheapside; the MISSES CLODE, 138, Bishopgate-Without; or by MR. NISBET, 21, Bernard Street, Oxford Street.

Tickets of Admission may be had, by an early application, at any of these places.

MAY, 1926.

## THE MODERN ÆSOP.

### FABLE FIRST.

"Pray, Sir, how d'ye find yourself?"—said a physician to his patient. 'Why, truly,' said the patient, 'I have had a terrible sweat.' "Oh! the best sign in the world!"—quoth the doctor. A few days after, called the doctor again with his "Pray, how d'ye find yourself?" 'Alas!' said the patient, 'I have just now had such a terrible fit of shivering and shaking upon me!' "Why this is all as it should be," exclaimed the physician, "it shews a mighty strength of nature!" In a short time came Esculapius again with his usual query. 'Ah! me,' sighed the patient, 'I am all swelled as if I had a dropsy.' "Excellent! Best of all!" After this came one of the sick man's friends with the customary question "How he felt himself?" 'Why truly, so well,' whis-

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pered the expiring victim, 'that I am e'en ready to die of I know not how many good signs and symptoms! '

### ILLUSTRATIONS OF FABLE THE FIRST

From speeches delivered by various empirical Statesmen during the present Session:—

"I believe that the great wealth of the country is not in any degree decreased; and that the country never enjoyed a state of more genuine prosperity."

"Although, from a variety of concurrent circumstances, the distress at present appears to be very universal, yet I am free to confess, that I conceive the real embarrassments of the country to be of the most partial nature."

"We have no right to expect that our state of unexampled prosperity should not have a few drawbacks. We cannot expect every thing. And it should not be forgotten that, although our shipping is unemployed, our manufacturers starving, our agricultural interest in alarm, and our money interest in despair, nevertheless we are blessed with enlightened and liberal rulers, who are determined, 'come what come may,' to apply refined philosophy to the common occurences of life."

"The noble Lord has observed that, at this moment, every one of the great interests of the country is in a state of despair; and he has drawn the most gloomy conclusions as to the state of the country in general. My Lord, I agree with the noble Lord as to his facts; but I protest against his conclusions. I am of opinion that all these apparent evils will cure themselves; and that they will eventually tend, in a considerable degree, to the establishment of the permanent prosperity of the country, upon a basis of ascertained durability. I will not deny that our manufacturing, our agricultural, our shipping, our commercial interests, are in a state of unparalleled distress; but I believe that all this distress may be satisfactorily accounted for,—namely, in a slight over-trading in the latter end of the autumn of 1825."—(Loud cheers.)

### FABLE SECOND.

A man caught an eagle, pelted her wings, and put her among his hens. Some one passing by bought the bird, and presently new feathered her. The eagle hereupon made a flight at a hare, trussed it, and brought it to her benefactor. A fox perceiving this, came and gave the man a piece of good counsel:—"Have a care," said Reynard, "of putting too much confidence in this eagle; for she'll go near, one time or another; to take you for a hare." Upon this advice, the man unplumed the eagle once again.

### ILLUSTRATION.

The moral of this Fable is obvious. Once a Jacobin, always a Jacobin! and although a man may be a Cabinet Minister or Treasurer of a kingdom, still if he started in life as the President of a Country Calves head Club, or the Secretary of a Coun-

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try Corresponding Society, it behoves us to look with due vigilance at his public accounts, and with due suspicion at his public conduct. Such a character, of course, does not obtain his elevated situation at a slight cost; he must fly at a hare " and truss it," ere he is rewarded by his new masters. Let his masters be-ware lest one time or another, they are mistaken for hares!

FABLE THIRD.

Once upon a time there was a good housewifely old woman, who used to call up her maids every morning just at the cock-crowing. The wenches were loth to rise so soon, and so they laid their heads together and killed the poor cock: "for" said they "if it were not for his waking our dame, she would not wake us!" But now the good woman's clock being gone, she got a habit of constantly mistaking the hour and calling them up at midnight, so that instead of mending the matter, they found themselves in a worse condition than before.

ILLUSTRATION.

It is a common thing for people that are uneasy, to fly to remedies that are worse than the disease. Men should deliberate before they resolve, and balance with scrupulous nicety the benefits proposed by change against the benefits enjoyed in their present condition. The wenches thought themselves called up too early, and so for fear of having too little sleep they ran the risk of having no sleep at all. It fares much at the same rate in public grievances as it does in private. Rather than bear the importunity of flea-biting, we are apt to run ourselves hand over head into a bed of scorpions; we might just as well beat out our brains to cure our headaches. The cock in the Fable, is the agricultural interest of England;—an interest which a blundering and bewildered administration is endeavouring to make a scape-goat for their own misgovernment. In times of great public distress, nothing is more calculated to soothe the irritated feelings of a nation than the destruction or distress of some hitherto flourishing interest. It is the universal panacea,—which cures nothing. It is the nostrum which the administration of the present day are perpetually having recourse to. Some day the evil principle will react upon themselves; when there are no more plump victims in store, the priest himself must be garlanded for the sacrifice, and, having ruined the country, our Ministers will have the modesty—to resign!

The fable may teach us much wisdom. Let us beware, lest in apparently freeing ourselves from an influence which, if it occasions us some inconvenience, certainly insures us great benefits, we do not fall the victims of tyrants, who will not vary their boon of perpetual misery by any benefits whatever; in short, let us take care, lest, like the old lady's wanton wenches, "for fear of having too little sleep, we run the risk of having no sleep at all!"

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MANAGERIAL ILLUSTRATIONS OF FALSTAFF.

A great Theatrical Manager made his appearance very lately upon his own stage in the character of Falstaff. The bias of his natural habits and inclinations, as well as the dimensions of his natural body, required less of assumed disguise, both in character and person, than is usual in representations of the drunken, fat, and bloated knight. Nor perhaps was he altogether deficient in the shrewd and expressive humour which ought to characterize that performance; and so sensible did our actor seem of the singular conformity which had, perhaps at the moment unconsciously, suggested the attempt, that the whole audience were in admiration of the spirit and fidelity with which he alluded to the well known prominences in his own manners and appearance. The following passages elicited the decided applause of the audience:

"Give me a cup of sack, to make mine eyes look red, that it may be thought I have wept, for I must speak in passion, and I will do it in King Cambyses' vein."

"If I do grow great, I'll grow less; for I'll purge, and leave sack, and live cleanly as a noble should do."

"If I fought not with fifty men, I am a bunch of raddish; I have peppered two of them; two, I am sure, I have paid, two rogues in buckram suits."

"That Falstaff-is old (the more the pity), his white hairs do witness it; that he is (saving your reverence) a whoremaster, that I utterly deny. If sack and sugar be a fault, God help the wicked!"

"An I have not forgotten what the inside of a church is made of, I am a pepper-corn, a brewer's horse; the inside of a church! Company, villainous company, hath been the spoil of me."

Nor did the manager hesitate much (being withal in a bold and venturous humour) to *amend* the text of our immortal bard in order to suit the language to his own circumstances, as in the following instances:

"What a plague have I to do with this buff buskin?"—(for jerkin.)

"If I do not beat thee out of my kingdom with a dagger of lath, and drive all my subjects before me like a flock of wild geese, I'll never wear hair on my face more."

"Give you a reason! If reasons were as plentiful as blackberries, I would give no man a reason!"

"Clap to the doors!—drink to-night, play to-morrow!"

"If I be not ashamed of my company, I am a souced gurnet."

"S'blood, 'tis time to counterfeit, or the hot termagent mob will pay me Scot and lot too. Counterfeit? I am no counterfeit; to faint is to be a counterfeit, for he is the counterfeit of a man, who hath not the life of a man; but to counterfeit fainting, when a man thereby escapeth, is to be no counterfeit, but the true and perfect image of life indeed. The better part of valour

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is—discretion; in the which better part I have saved my reputation. I grant you I am down, and out of breath; have you any leavers to lift me up again being down?" &c. &c. &c.

Museum Criticum; or Cambridge Classical Researches.
J. Murray.

The eighth, and, we regret to add, the concluding number of this Journal has just appeared. Its commencement in 1813, under the direction of Dr. Blomfield, Professor Monk, and Mr. Dobree, with the services of Dr. Elmsley and Professor Gaisford at command, was followed by immediate success both in this country and abroad. The limits of the publication were never meant to exceed a few volumes, and as a period of five years has elapsed since the last number was issued, and a similar interval had taken place after the preceding one, it was perhaps wisely resolved to pause at this point,—especially as an important auxiliary was lost in the death of Dr. Elmsley, and we have no longer a right to expect the same classical exertions as before from the present Bishop of Chester. Perhaps the most valuable portions of this publication are the fragments of ancient authors, collected and illustrated, and the unpublished annotations on classical writers by eminent critics of this country. But the most generally interesting department consists of reviews of classical publications of the day, with the few biographical and literary notices which are scattered through its numbers. We do not think that this last part will add materially to the reputation of its contributors. The first article, containing unpublished letters between Bentley and Dr. Bernard, transcribed by Dr. Bandinell from the Bodleian Collection, is certainly the most amusing, if not the most important feature. We could not help smiling at the elaborate compliment of Dr. Bernard to his friend on his emendation of a fragment attributed to Sophocles:— "Video equidem ex illo specime præter te hominem neminem vivere, qui jam carmina Græca possit restituere, et contra vitium temporis reformare." Mr. Martin Leake has furnished some curious inscriptions copied in Bœotia, which are followed by the critical annotations of Bishop Blomfield. The paper on the Greek Cursive Character is neither interesting in subject, nor clear in the manner of its development. In the Review of the two editions of the Bacchæ of Euripides, by Elmsley and Herman, are some curious and learned remarks on that ancient controversy, the omission of the augment by the Greek tragedians in their iambic trimeters. The present writer decides *against* the omission, thereby supporting the authorities of Porson and Elmsley, in contradiction to Seidler, Reisig, and Herman. The Memoir of Duport, known principally by his "Gnomologia Homerica," and his Greek version of the Psalms, has the usual objection of a deficiency in popular interest. The "general and extensive Index," which was promised in the preface, has not hitherto appeared.

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EXHIBITION, SOMERSET-HOUSE.—SIR THOMAS LAWRENCE, P. R. A.—Among the portraits exhibited, those by the President far outstrip all the productions of his contemporaries. No. 65. Lady Wallscourt, for grace of attitude, and the *beau ideal* of female loveliness, is unmatched. She is represented playing on a guitar, which exhibits the beauty of her hands to the best advantage: and the President has done them ample justice, for both their easy and natural position, and their transparent colouring, are truly exquisite. She has been more fortunate than the Marchioness of Lansdowne (No. 91.), whose arms are strangely distorted: indeed, if they are really intended to be finished, we cannot help thinking they must have been the performance of some of Lawrence's numerous assistants. No. 158. Mrs. Thomas Hope, is a fine spirited and intellectual countenance. No. 396, the portrait of a child, is full of the innocent expression of childish gratification, and the harmony of the colouring is beautiful. The portraits of the Right Honourable Robert Peel (No. 101.), and the Right Honourable George Canning (No. 109.), show distinctly the different characters of those two statesmen. We greatly prefer the former as a more pleasing picture, and the position and expression are less painful and more open.

J. M. W. TURNER, R. A.—No. 73. Cologne, the arrival of a packet-boat, evening. This picture, as all Turner's pictures do, has given rise to a variety of remarks. Our critics, on their first inroad into the "Great Room," were struck aghast by the brilliancy of the tints, and immediately cried out that it was Turner gone mad,—that it was a wretched daub,—that it was nothing but a mixture of gamboge and sienna,—in short, they damned it. They never thought that in the brilliant Rhenish sunsets there might be some beams of splendour, some effects which our common painters dared not attempt. But, because Turner chose neither to paint showers like Constable, nor hazes like Calcott,—because he searched among the more glorious effects of nature for his model, he, forsooth, must still be measured by the same rule. Turner is a magnificent genius; and we would confidently appeal to his most emulous rival, had he one, whether there is not a brilliancy, a reality of aërial effect, a judicious composition and arrangement of the whole, which stamp this picture as the work of a great painter.

CALCOTT has two pieces of great merit,—No. 122, the quay at Antwerp during the fair time, and, No. 165., Dutch fishing-boats. We prefer the latter, more especially since he has shortened the mast and taken in the sail of the principal boat, which were before out of proportion. The showery effects on the sea are capitally managed; but the sail of the large boat is bad, it looks too much like leather.

C. R. LESLIE.—His former piece from Don Quixote is one of our great favourites, and we think it fairly matched by the present one. The person of the "thrice valorous and approved Don," is the very essence of Quixotic dignity. In fact, he looks as handsome and as dignified as it is possible for a man in his shirt to look. The fair Dorothea seems entirely to relish the joke, and the poor barber is overwhelmed with his triple duty of restraining his laughter, keeping his beard on, and holding the train of his mistress. Behind his master is his squire Sancho; and the grotesque warlike accoutrements are arranged against a tree in the corner.

G. S. NEWTON.—No. 203. Captain Macheath upbraided by Polly and Lucy, is a pleasing picture, though Mr. Newton has drawn rather too largely on Hogarth for his female beauties. However, we are glad to see that he

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has once more returned to his compositions, and deserted the narrow field of arm-chairs and costumes.

E. LANDSEER.—No. 292. The hunting of Chevy Chase is calculated to sustain the reputation of this promising artist. The composition of the whole groupe is spirited and natural, and the colouring extremely good. The dogs hotly engaged in contest with the stag might even vie with those of Snycers.

D. ROBERTS.—His view of Rouen cathedral is a magnificent performance. He stands unequalled in this peculiar branch of his profession; and we confidently foretell that the noble patron of art, who paid him so handsomely for this picture, will have no cause to repent his liberality.

G. CATTERMOLE is an admirable Gothic draughtsman; but we were not much struck by his picture of King Henry II. discovering the relics of King Arthur in Glastonbury Abbey, no. 284. The design, however, is extremely correct, and shows his intimate knowledge of Gothic architecture.

W. ALLAN.—No. 30. Auld Robin Gray. There is some extremely good painting in this picture; but its great defect is the total absence of all expression whatever. In fact, no story is told in it, and no interest is excited. Allan must work hard to recover the ground he has been losing the last two years.

J. WARD, R. A.—His battle piece (No. 23.) is a careful imitation of some of the most unpardonable faults of the early painters in this line, and abounds with the most ridiculous effects of bad grouping and harsh colouring.

G. JONES, R. A.—His views of St. Albans (No. 131.) and Mechlin, (No. 141.) are done in his capital style of painting scenes in towns, where he introduces groups of figures with great taste and judgment. The scene in the great square of Mechlin before its cathedral, with its splendid, but unfinished, tower, is an excellent painting.

H. HOWARD, R. A.—We had nearly forgotten Mr. Howard's beautiful picture of Hylas carried off by the Nymphs, No. 89. The composition and painting are beautiful. Mr. Howard is the unrivalled painter of Pleiades, Hyades, Nymphs, and Morning Stars; and the softness and freshness of his colouring constitute him, and deservedly so, principal painter in ordinary to their Celestial and Terrestrial conclaves.

PICKERSGILL's Medora is a beautiful and pensive female. But, although her back is turned to us, we can perceive that she has but little of the soul of that hapless damsel.

J. CONSTABLE.—His landscape (No. 225.) has much merit; and the corn-field and bank on the left-hand side of the picture are excellent. But we think the whole is too sparkling.

S. PROUT.—No. 268. The Ducal Palace at Venice is not equal to a view of the same object in the Water Colour Exhibition, where Prout is seen to the greatest advantage.

P. CORBET.—No. 275. Dame Quickly's Satin. We are not acquainted with this artist, and we think the picture on the whole is hard, although the conception has some merit; but the richly embroidered drapery is so elaborately and admirably finished as to make the picture an object of very high interest.

We do not admire either BONE'S pictures, or STEPHANOFF'S. Stephanoff's piece of Reubens in the Water Colour Exhibition is undoubtedly his best

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production this year. After all, he ought only to paint subjects of Eastern enchantment, or such events as the Field of the Cloth of Gold.

W. DANIELL, R. A. has several excellent sea-pieces; and most un-English groupes of elephants, buffaloes, adjutants, monkies, and umbrella-trees.

COLLIN's pictures do not please us. That of the children picking hops (No. 110.) is his best; but what a grand subject for a Wilkie are the conceits and misrules of a real hop-garden !

## Advertisements.

### POPULAR NEW WORKS,

#### VIVIAN GREY.

In 2 vols. post Svo. 1s.8s.

NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS' ENTERTAINMENTS. Selected from the original ORIENTAL MS. by JOS. VON HAMMER, and now first translated into English by the Rev. GEORGE LAMB. In 3 vols. small Svo. 1s.8s.

SANDOVAL; or, THE FREEMASON, a Spanish Tale of PRESENT TIMES. By the Author of "Don Esteban," In 3 vols. post Svo. 1s. 8s. 6d.

THE NAVAL SKETCH BOOK; or, Service Afloat and Ashore, with Characteristic Reminiscences, Fragments, and Opinions. By an Officer of Rank. Second Edition, with considerable Additions. In 2 vols. post Svo. 1s.8s.

BRAMBLETYE HOUSE; or, Cavaliers and Roundheads. A Novel. By one of the Authors of "The Rejected Addresses." The Second Edition. In 3 vols. post Svo. price 1s. 11s. 6d.

THE LAST MAN. A Romance. By the Author of "Frankenstein," "Castruccio," &c. In 3 vols. post Svo. 1s. 7s.

LETTERS FROM THE EAST. Written during a recent Tour through TURKEY, EGYPT, ARABIA, the HOLY LAND, SYRIA, and GREECE. By JOHN CARNE, Esq. of Queen's College, Cambridge. In one large volume, with a coloured Plate. 1s.8s.

DIARY of an ENNUYEE. Second Edition. I vol. post Svo. 10s. 6d.

126 THE STAR CHAMBER.

ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG RIFLEMAN, in the FRENCH and ENGLISH ARMIES, during the War in Spain and Portugal, from 1806 to 1816. WRITTEN BY HIMSELF. In one vol. post 8vo. price 9s. 6d.

"The Adventures of a Young Rifleman form one of the most entertaining volumes we have of late years met with. We can truly say, that the Rifleman's confessions will afford, to every one that makes the experiment, a delightful evening, and a harvest of valuable recollections."—Representative,

NEW WORKS IN THE PRESS,

THE LIFE and TIMES of FREDERICK REYNOLDS (the Dramatist), written by himself, 2 vols. 8vo. with portrait.

GASTON DE BLONDEVILLE; a Romance, with some Poetical Pieces. By Anne Radcliffe, Author of "The Romance of the Forest;" "Mysteries of Udelpho;" "Italian," &c. to which will be prefixed, a Memoir of the Author, and Extracts from her Diary. Published from the Originals, in the possession of William Radcliffe, Esq. 4 vols. post 8vo.

THE LIFE and CORRESPONDENCE of MAJOR CARTWRIGHT.
Edited by his Niece, S. D. CARTWRIGHT. 2 vols. 8vo. with Portrait, &c.

IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS of LITERARY MEN AND STATESMEN. By Walter Savage Landor. Second Edition, with additions. 2 vols. 8vo.

THE STAR CHAMBER.

No. 8.] WEDNESDAY, MAY 31st, 1826.

[Price 6d.

"He would diverse times goe into the Star Chamber, as occasion would serve: there he spared neither high nor lowe, but judged every estate according to his merits and deserts." CAVENDISH'S LIFE OF WOLSET.

THE FIELDING MSS.

TO THE PUBLIC.—Gratifying to our feelings as has been our reception of THE STAR-CHAMBER, and unceasing as have been our exertions to reserve and retain your patronage and good opinion, we had not, we confess, flattered ourselves, that it would so soon be in our power to prove to all, that we did not come forward to solicit your support either insolently or indiscreetly. We have now in our possession a mass of MS. PAPERS of the most extraordinary and interesting nature. They consist of Diaries, Correspondence, and Memoirs of different, but distinguished, persons, who lived towards the close of the last century; they principally treat of events from 1750 to 1788. When we style these MSS. the FIELDING PAPERS, we do not allot them that title because they principally consist of the papers of the late celebrated SIR JOHN FIELDING, but because they were all, at one time, in the possession of that eminent man. The principal portion of them is a Diary of his Life, kept regularly for nearly thirty years, and which is contained in five thick quarto volumes; besides letters of the most eminent men of the latter end of the eighteenth century, and particularly of Mr. WILKES; a Diary of CAPTAIN NUGENT of the Guards, kept from the year 1768 to the year 1783, irregularly, but very fully; and a great variety of papers connected with the management of our national Theatres, during the period above mentioned—some few of which have appeared in print. We have not been enabled, at present, to take other than a hasty survey of this immense collection, but we do not hesitate to say, that whether considered as relative to our Politics, our Literature, or our Manners, it must be considered inviolable.

It would be ridiculous in us to pretend that these Papers will not be made public otherwise than through the medium of the STAR-CHAMBER. Such a method of publication would neither do justice to the Collection itself, nor would it at all accord with our plans; but until they are introduced to the notice of the nation in a manner consonant with their importance, and which certainly cannot take place during the present season, we have permission occasionally to enrich our pages with extracts. We hope to be enabled, in an early number, to give a detailed account of the whole pile: at present we present our readers with some highly interesting extracts from CAPTAIN NUGENT'S Diary. They give a very lively and interesting idea of the manners of the then fashionable world. The characteristic anecdotes

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of LORD CARLISLE, then the leader of fashion of the day, and
still fresh in our remembrance, will be read with avidity. The
LORD PETERSHAM, who is often mentioned in the Diary, is, we
believe, that highly respectable Peer, the present EARL of HAR-
INGTON. We are quite confident that no one will smile more
joyously at certain little adventures which figure in the Mary-
le-bon Gardens than the noble Lord himself.—We begin with a
lively description of a masked ball.

"I was at Mrs. CORNELY's on Monday night. She has taken Carlisle House in Soho Square. It is truly a very grand mansion. I think there were more than eight hundred persons present, and many of the principal nobility and gentry of the kingdom. The ball was given by the gentlemen of 'the Tuesday Night's Club,' which hold their sittings at the Star and Garter Tavern in Pall Mall, to which club I think I shall belong. Soho Square and the adjacent streets were lined with thousands of people, whose curiosity led them to get a sight of the persons going to the masquerade; nor was any coach or chair suffered to pass unreviewed, the windows being obliged to be let down, and lights held up to display the figures to more advantage. I saw LADY AUGUSTA STUART very much annoyed, for the mob would have her call out for WILKES, but before I could reach her, I thank God, she passed on. She showed great courage. She was dressed as a vestal. The doors of the house were opened at nine o'clock, and from that time, for about three or four hours, the company did continue to pour into the assembly. At twelve the lower rooms were opened: in these were prepared the sideboards, containing sweetmeats and a cold collation, in which, I must say, elegance was more conspicuous than profusion. The feast of the night was certainly calculated rather to gratify the eye than the stomach, and seemed to testify the conductors' sense of its being prepared almost on the eve of Ash Wednesday. The richness and brilliancy were almost beyond imagination; nor did any assembly ever exhibit a collection of more beautiful and elegant female figures. I think that LADY WALDEGRAVE, LADY PEMBROKE, the DUCHESS of HAMILTON, Mrs. CREWE, Mrs. HODGES, and LADY ALMERIA CARPENTER were the most effective. Mr. R. CONWAY appeared as a High-lander, and looked well. The EARL of CARLISLE made a great sensation as a running footman, very richly dressed with a cap set with diamonds, and the words 'Tuesday Night's Club' in the front. Mr. JAMES, the painter, was as Midas, and Sir W. W. WYNNE as a Druid, which was thought very proper. The DUKE of DEVONSHIRE was very fine, but in no particular character. I went as MUNGO, and, if I may believe Miss MONCTON, was not altogether undiverting. She was with her father, LORD GALWAY, and appeared in the character of an Indian Sultana, in a robe of cloth of gold and a rich veil. The seams of her habit were embroidered with precious stones, and she had a magnificent

cluster of diamonds on her head; the jewels she wore were valued at thirty thousand pounds. The COUNTESS DOWAGER of WALDEGRAVE was in the character of Jane Shore, and wore a dress richly trimmed with beads and pearls. The DUCHESS of ANCASTER appeared as Mandane. One of the completest groupes, however, was formed by the COUNTESS of POMFRET and the two Miss FREDERICKS, in the character of a Greek Sultana attended by two Greek Slaves. The DUCHESS of BOLTON, in the character of Diana, was most captivating. LORD EDGECOMB, in the character of an Old Woman, was full as lovely as his Lady in that of a Nun. LADY STANHOPE, as Melpomene, was a striking fine figure. LADY CAROLINE, LADY AUGUSTA STUART's sister, was, as a fille de Patmos, very elegant without glitter. Among the unknowns, a political Bedlamite, run mad for WILKES and liberty and No. 45, an Adam in flesh-coloured silk, with an apron of fig-leaves,—a figure of Somebody,—a figure of Nobody, —a Chimney-sweeper, a Quack, and a Friar, were the most entertaining. His Royal Highness, the DUKE of GLOUCESTER, was in the Old English habit, with a star on his cloak. Two great personages were complimented with tickets, but they were returned. About two o'clock the company began to depart, but found great difficulty. Most of the carriages were chalked by the populace with 'WILKES and Liberty.'

"I spoke to the EARL of CARLISLE about the 'Tuesday Night's Club.' He turned up his eyes to heaven, and vowed he thought I was a member, although I know he said to REDDISH that it was a pity they were obliged to have any more. SIR R. PHILLIPS also spoke, and as he went along, his Lordship said, 'I shall remember, I shall remember,' and I therefore think that I shall be chosen."

The following extract refers to the opening of the celebrated Pantheon.

January 27, 1772. "I dined with SIR R. PHILLIPS this day, and afterwards went with him to the opening of the Pantheon, of which we have heard so much. It is certainly most splendid, but LORD CARLISLE does not approve of the introduction of Britannia among the Heathen Deities. He said, laughing, that 'Britannia was only considered a Heathen on the Continent,' which I thought very good, as well as his observation very just. The architect is Mr. WYATT. It contains fourteen rooms, besides the rotunda, which has double colonnades, or recesses, for the reception of the company, ornamented with the relief peculiар to the Grecian style of building; this is in very good taste. The dome contains other reliefs, equally rich. There were two thousand persons present of the highest rank and fashion, but SIR R. PHILLIPS says, that he does not think the plan of keeping out courtezans will answer, though LADY A. C. says that that depends upon themselves. I think that some arrangement might be made by which each might have their nights, and I shall propose this, though SIR R. PHILLIPS says that he does not think it will succeed. But he always doubts."

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The next extract gives us an account of a very singular entertainment which took place at the famous Mary-la-bon Gardens, and which may not be undeserving the notice of the proprietors of Vauxhall.

July 23, 1776. " This evening I went with Mr. FOSTER and LORD COLRANE to Mary-la-bon Gardens, where was a new entertainment, very curious and agreeable. This was a representation of the Boulevards of Paris, and, as I can bear witness, very like and well imitated. The boxes which fronted the ball-room, were converted into shops, and had a very pleasing effect, and were occupied by persons with characteristic names painted on silk before lamps. Crotchet or Quaver, sold music; La Blonde was a milliner; Trinket kept a toy-shop; DARLEY, the printseller, had a shop there, I forget under what name. The fruiterer was named Pine, but was, in reality, pretty BETSY FORD, as all might guess, from the quantity of strawberries which LORD PETERSHAM did eat there. The shopkeepers were rather cold and dull at their business at first, but as the evening went, and we talked to them, their awkwardness wore off. They began to think, when they saw me and LORD PETERSHAM and others, that they were at their real shops in Covent Garden and St. Martin's, and felt at home. There was one fellow, however, whose name I could not get. He was a foreigner, I think, and sold gingerbread. He ran away with all the custom, from never ceasing to talk. The ball-room was illuminated in an elegant manner, with coloured lamps; and at one end of it women attended, selling orgeat, lemonade, and other cooling liquors. This was intended as a representation of the English Coffee House at Paris; not unlike, and an idea of my LORD CARLISLE'S. There was a great variety of different amusements; and amongst the rest, a booth, representing that of SIGNIOR NICOLA at Paris, in which eight men, at the command of the supposed Signior, who was behind the scenes, exhibited a dance, called the Egyptian Pyramids, standing on the backs, arms, and shoulders of each other to an astonishing height."

The following entry is curious as illustrative of the character of our Diarist.—We must, however, regret the discordance of temper between Mr. CONWAY and Captain NUGENT :—

April 21, 1773. " Met Mr. CONWAY at Charing Cross. He tells me he is going to dine to-day at Mr. THALER'S, the great brewer, to meet Dr. JOHNSON, which is now the fashion, and he is very full of it, but I have no taste that way."

May 5, 1775. " LORD COLRANE called upon me this morning, and said that he had just left LORD CARLISLE, who was full of a new plan for a Regatta, or Regattera on the Thames, and that his Lordship did expect all the Tuesday Night Club to do their utmost for carrying it. I liked the plan much, which is to be an imitation of the race of oarsmen at Venice, where I have not been, but to which City and its fashions LORD CARLISLE is very partial.

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May 7th. " I dined at the Mitre with LORD CARLISLE and LORD COLRANE and Mr. CONWAY. We all like the plan of the Regatta or Regattera mightily, and determine that it shall be carried. The DUKES of CUMBERLAND and GLOUCESTER are for it, and Mrs. CORNELY is to have the sole management of the decorations and the supper, which I trust will be an improvement upon some festivals I could mention. We are all to be Directors. LORD CARLISLE produced his plan, which is very clear, and well managed. It is to be inserted in the newspaper, and I think will be liked.

May 14. " The DUCHESS of BOLTON proposes that every successful waterman shall have an ensign given him, to wear one year on the Thames, with the word Regatta in gold colours thereon inscribed. LORD CARLISLE is mightily pleased. The bells of St. Margaret's Church are also to ring. I think the 20th of June will be the day approved by the Committee, of which I am one."

We insert the account of the Regatta, which, indeed, seems to have been very brilliant.

June 20th. " Half a guinea is the price for a seat in the commonest barge! It was a clear day, but not over warm. I was afraid that a haze was going to rise over the river at first, but it died off. The whole river, from London Bridge to the ShipVERN, Mill Bank, was covered with vessels of pleasure. I think there were above twelve hundred flags flying before four o'clock. Many of the Companies' barges, and other pleasure vessels, were moored in the river with flags. Scaffolds were erected on the banks and in vessels, and vessels were moored in the river to sell wine. There was a small building on the top of Westminster Hall. This was for LADY WALDEGRAVE, who does not fancy water.

" The Thames, by six o'clock, was overspread with vessels and boats ornamented with divers colours: much about this time they began to form themselves into divisions. The Director's barge, where I was, was uncommonly superb. On the stern of it we displayed a blue ensign, with the word Regatta in large gold characters. We were rowed in great state to our station, a little before seven, on the west point of the centre arch. We had no ladies on board, as we must have offended so many by refusals. Therefore we had none, which was a pity, as a barge looks better for women, and I had promised MISS MONCTON a ticket. I gave her one, however, for the Director's hired barge, and she excused me, and I danced a cotillion with her. After us, the boats and vessels of the red flag immediately brought up in the line of the four arches, on the Lambeth side; the blue division, in the direction of the four nearest Westminster; and the white, of the two arches on each side of the centre; the grand centre arch being solely appropriated to the race-boats. The whole river formed a splendid scene, which was proportionably more

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so nearer to Westminster Bridge. Here was our hired barge. It was a City barge, used to take in ballast, and was, on this occasion, filled with the finest ballast in the world, above a hundred elegant ladies. At half past seven the LORD MAYOR'S barge moved, and falling down the stream, made a circle towards the bridge, on which twenty-one cannon were fired as a salute. At half-past seven the candidates started at Westminster Bridge; twelve boats, two men in each, in three divisions, habited in white, red, and blue, rowed down to Waterman's Hall, and went round a vessel placed there for the purpose, and then made up again for the gaol, which was gained by one of the red squadron, who had for their reward each a new boat, with furniture complete, coats and badges, and an ensign with the word *Regatta* in gold letters inscribed thereon, which was the DUCHESS of BOLTON's idea, and which they are to wear for twelve months, of which they are very proud; the second boat eight guineas each, and the third five guineas each; and to every other candidate who rowed the full distance, half a guinea, with permission to be in Ranelagh Garden, in their uniforms, during the entertainment. As soon as the winners were declared by us, and we had awarded the prizes, the whole procession began to move from Westminster Bridge for Ranelagh, our barge at the head of the whole squadron, with grand bands of music playing in each. The ladies, in general, were dressed in white, and the gentlemen in frocks of all colours. It is thought that the procession was seen by at least 200,000 persons. LORD CARLISLE told LADY HARRINGTON at Ranelagh, that it excelled any thing at Venice. I was much pleased to think, that I was, in a manner, the first planner of it, and LADY TYRCONNEL called me twice, as I passed, "the *Regatta* Captain."

"We landed at the stairs about nine, and were there joined by the party, that came by land, in the *Temple of Neptune*, a temporary octagon kind of building, erected about twenty yards below the rotunda, lined with striped linen of the different coloured flags of the Navy, with light pillars near the centre, ornamented with streamers of the same kind loosely flowing, and lustres hanging between each. It happened, however, that this building was not quite finished when the company assembled, which prevented the cotillion-dancing till after supper. At half past ten the rotunda was opened for supper, three circular tables of different heights, elegantly set out, but not profuse. It was finely illuminated with party-coloured lamps, and, I must say, displayed great taste: the centre was solely appropriated for one of the fullest and finest bands of music, vocal and instrumental, ever collected in these kingdoms; the number being 240, in which were included the first masters, led by GIARDINI, and the whole directed by Mr. SIMPSON, in a manner that did him great credit. It was opened with a grand new piece composed for the occasion, which I liked amazingly, though Mr. CONWAY said it

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was all stolen. After this, various catches and glees by VERNON, REINHOLD, &c. &c. After supper, some of us retired to the Temple, where were minuets and cotillions, &c. I danced a cotillion with MISS MONCTON, and moved a minuet with LADY CAROLINE STUART, who looked very elegant, but owing to the accident at Neptune's Temple, dancing was not much. I think there could not be less than two thousand persons present. The Directors were much praised. There were the Dukes, as they had promised, and also the DUKE of NORTHBURGERLAND, and my LORD NORTH was there, and also LORDS HARRINGTON, STANLEY, TYRCONNEL, LINCOLN, and their Ladies, also LORD LYTTLETON, LORD CARLISLE, MARCH, MELBOURNE, CHOLMONDELEY, PETERSHAM, &c. &c. and the French, Spanish, Prussian, Russian, and Neapolitan Ambassadors, &c. So ended the Regatta, whereof I was not a little proud, being a Director. Mrs. CORNELY, through LORD CARLISLE, had the sole management of the decorations and supper, for which she was allowed 700 guineas; and, I must say, the supper was but indifferent, and the wines very scarce."

The above specimens of CAPTAIN NUGENT'S Diary, will justify us, we trust, in our expectations, that they will prove universally interesting. The extracts are made perfectly at random, and we have no reason to believe that they are other than a fair specimen of the whole. We shall speedily and fully revert to this valuable and entertaining collection.

The DUNCIAD OF TO-DAY will be continued in our next number. The prose writers of the day will then pass the ordeal.

To all the letters that we have received on the subject of "the Key to Vivian Grey" in our last number, we have only to remark, that assertions are not proofs. On the accuracy of every statement contained in "the Key," we in the most unqualified manner staked the reputation of the STAR-CHAMBER. We do not flinch from the position we then took, alike unconvinced by the vague generalities of P. X. and the blustering threats of "Fladong's Hotel."

We are happy to announce a collected edition of the Dramatic and Poetical Works of KIT MARLOWE, which will be ready in a few days, and which we shall notice as early as possible. The Plays of MARSTON and SAMUEL FOOTE are mentioned as about to be produced in succession.

A reprint will shortly appear of that very rare and beautiful little volume, the "Preces Privatæ Quotidianæ" of LAUNCELOT ANDREWES, Bishop of Winchester. The Greek and Latin text will be first given, and afterwards a new English Version, collected with those of DRAKE and STANHOPE.

Mr. PICKERING, of Chancery Lane, is at this time the fortunate possessor of the celebrated compact drawn up between MILTON

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and his Publisher, by which the Paradise Lost is made over to the latter for the sum of 5l. The MS. is well preserved and perfectly legible.

Mr. WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR, now well known by his "Imaginary Conversations," commenced authorship as a Poet many years ago, with indifferent success. In the year 1820, while resident at Pisa, he printed for his friends a volume of Latin Poetry, under the title of "Idyllia Heroica," which is seldom to be met with, and is highly esteemed. Mr. COLBURN is preparing a second edition of his better known work, mentioned above.

Mr. COSNETT has ready for the press a work on the Evidences of Christianity.

The late Rev. JAMES BERESFORD had devoted many years of his life to a translation of VIRGIL's Æneid, executed in blank verse with less spirit than fidelity. It was elegantly printed, but the hopes of the translator were disappointed, and he vowed in despair, that he would sit down and write the silliest thing ever printed, and try how far the public might be gulled. Accordingly, within a few months after this resolution, he brought out his "Miseries of Human Life," which effectually replenished, in a short time, the spirits, as well as the purse, of Mr. BERESFORD.

A Patent has been recently taken out for the prevention of sea-sickness.

Monday evening was, indeed, a dismal prospect for Vauxhall. The company was thin, the lamps went out, and the fireworks were not attempted. We doubt the policy of engaging eminent singers for the orchestra, and certainly the additional charge will be felt as a drawback by the proprietors. When a place of entertainment has once had its day and gone out of fashion, it is more wise to adapt it by cheapness to the mass of people in middling life, than to attempt by additional amusement and additional price to bring back the higher ranks who have already deserted it.

The demand for those Numbers of the STAR-CHAMBER which contained the "DUNCIAD of TO-DAY," and "THE KEY TO VI-VIAN GREY," has so far exceeded our most sanguine expectations, that we have found it necessary to continue reprinting them in order to meet the constant enquiries at our Publisher's. Our earlier Numbers are very nearly out of print, and, as it will be impossible to provide a further supply of copies for some time, the public are respectfully advised to complete their sets without delay.

## OPERA SINGERS.

"FARINELLI engaged to perform fifty nights during the season of 1734-5 for a salary of fifteen hundred guineas and a benefit. This benefit surpassed every other previously received.

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The Theatre was so contrived as to accommodate two thousand spectators, whose admission money, added to the following sums given by the nobility, amounted to more than two thousand pounds. The PRINCE of WALES, 200 guineas; the Spanish Ambassador, 100l.; the Austrian Ambassador, 50l.; the DUKE of LEEDS, the COUNTESS of PORTMORE, LORD BURLINGTON, and the DUKE of RICHMOND, 50l. each; COLONEL PAGE, 30l.; LADY RICH, 20l. &c. &c. &c. The Pit was filled at four o'clock; and as the stage was crowded with beauty and fashion, no scenes were used during the performance; gilt leather hangings were substituted, which usually adorned that part of the Theatre at Ridottos. Many of the songs in the Opera were new; that which preceded the chorus was composed by FARINELLI, and so vehemently applauded, that he sung it a second time, at the request of the audience, though the chorus was over, and the musicians had retired from the orchestra. The PRINCE of WALES soon after presented this favorite singer with a richly wrought gold snuff-box, set with rubies and diamonds, containing a pair of knee-buckles, and a purse of 100 guineas."

*(MS. Papers in the STAR-CHAMBER Collection.)*

## THE MODERN ÆSOP.

### No. II.

#### FABLE FOURTH.

"Name me an animal so clever that I cannot imitate it," boasted the monkey to the fox.—"Can you point out any animal so insignificant as to imitate you?" runs the answer.—Ye authors of the "Rejected Addresses," need I explain myself further?

#### FABLE FIFTH.

One stormy night, the raging north wind exercised its strength on a lofty oak, which it levelled with the ground, where it lay with many small trees crushed beneath it. A fox, whose den was not far distant, happened to pass the next morning: "What a noble tree!" exclaimed Reynard; "I never thought it so great while standing."

#### ILLUSTRATION.

My friends, the fate of the noble oak will be that of the agricultural interest of Great Britain. A rash and revolutionary minister, like the raging north wind, will level it with the ground. It will not be until it has fallen that we shall discover how very noble a tree it was, how grateful the shade which it afforded us from the heat of the meridian sun, and the shelter which it offered us from the boisterous gales! But let us not forget when the north wind is raging, that we shall have to mourn not merely for the noble oak, but for "many small trees crushed beneath it." Upon the agricultural interest all the other interests of this country depend.

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FABLE SIXTH.

A proud war-horse was slain beneath its rider, and the body putrified. A swarm of young wasps soon sprang up in the mouldering carcase. "Oh!" exclaimed the wasps, "what a divine origin is ours! The favorite of Neptune, the magnificent horse, is our ancestor!"

ILLUSTRATION.

The wasps in the fable are the modern Greeks, who regard themselves as the descendants of the illustrious Spartans and Athenians, because they chance to be born among their graves.

IMPUDENCE AND IDIOTISM;
OR, THE RIVAL INSURANCE COMPANIES.

A Meeting of the Proprietors of the British Commercial Insurance Company was held, a few days ago, at the Company's Office in Cornhill, in order to receive a Report of their affairs. What "the British Commercial Insurance Company" is, we are utterly unable to inform our readers, never having heard of it, until, like most other Joint Stock Companies, it held "an Annual Meeting, convened according to the provisions contained in the deed of settlement," to receive the above-mentioned Report, which, of course, like all other reports, was hallooved out by a "Managing Director," and "detailed, at considerable length, the flattering (oh! choice epithet!) state of the Company's affairs." We rather suppose, however, that "the British Commercial Insurance Company" is one of those numerous joint stock speculations which were the consequence of the unnatural bolstering up of the funds by certain enlightened statesmen, who have a clever habit of "applying refined philosophy to the common occurrences of life," and who have assuredly succeeded in transforming the British merchant, a character once synonymous with fair dealing, wise enterprise, and generous conduct, into a broken, gambling, lying, swindling scoundrel—for such, in nine cases out of ten, is the present character of the people who now crowd the Royal Exchange of London. Shade of Gresham, frown on your degenerate sons!

But to our tale. The "British Commercial Insurance Company" hold their Annual Meeting. Every thing in the most approved style. As we before mentioned, of course a "Managing Director" was not absent, and still more of course, "a flattering Report" was not wanting. There was a Baronet for the Chairman, and a Barrister for the Trustee. It is to us perfectly immaterial, whether the "British Commercial Insurance Company" be the most flourishing and *bonafide* establishment in Europe, or the most hollow and the least glittering bubble that ever was puffed. Not one *sous* do we care for the titled Chair-

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man, or the stuff-gowned Trustee—no! not one single maravedi, either for Sir William Beetham, or Mr. Sergeant Adams—our old friend, Sergeant Adams—Mr. ARIGNA Sergeant Adams! we believe we make no mistake? But one little circumstance did take place at this most interesting Meeting, which we think it may not altogether be inexpedient to notice.

One of the agreeable duties of the "Managing Director," was to "congratulate the Proprietor on their having disembarrassed themselves of the Fire department, which could not have been continued, except at a great loss."

Mr. ARIGNA Adams, the Sergeant—(is it as Trustee, or standing Counsel, that you attend, worthy brother? perhaps both—well, well, there's nothing like the higher honor and independence of the English bar!) Mr. ARIGNA Adams was of opinion, that "nothing could be more judicious than the transfer of the Fire department to the Protector Insurance Office, as the continuance of it would be attended with most considerable loss."

"The Protector Fire Insurance Company" gave "the British Commercial Insurance Company" the sum of 888s. for the transferred policies.

Now, are any of our readers Proprietors of the "Protector Fire Insurance Company"—a Company, which is following a business, which business a body of men is publicly congratulated in the City of London for relinquishing—a business which confessedly leads to ruin?

Are any of our readers Proprietors of Shares in a Company, which in cool blood gives eight hundred and eighty-eight pounds for a parcel of policies, which the very vendor confesses he cannot keep without incurring "a considerable loss?" If any of our readers be, in God's name let them tear their shares into a thousand pieces, let them burn them, let them throw them into the Thames, let them do anything but keep them in iron chests, and sit down calmly by their fire-sides at night, and delude themselves by fancying they are *property*!

*Reply to the Artiele in the Quarterly Review, for March, 1826, on the Revelations of La Sœur Nativité. By Charles Butler, Esq. J. Murray. 1826.*

The exact state of the controversy between Mr. SOUTHEY and Mr. BUTLER is the following:—It is the business of Mr. SOUTHEY to *misrepresent*, and of Mr. BUTLER to *conceal*.—"Where is truth, said jesting Pilate, and did not wait for an answer?"—Mr. BUTLER's Reply to the Quarterly Reviewer is exactly what was to be expected from a man of his exquisite discretion. The "Reply" is full of most logical divisions, and most satisfactory subdivisions. This for the green-horns,—who usually judge of a man's success in argument, as they do of his courage in common affairs—by

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his preliminary bustle. But the upshot of the "Reply," is, of course, *recrimination*, which, as it is the only point on which he is invincible, Mr. BUTLER, in a true St. Omer's spirit, deprecates resorting to.

MISSOLONGHI.

The fall of Missolonghi has supplied the friends of Christianity and of the Greeks with copious matter of lamentation. They saw, or thought they saw, in that devoted city, a strong hold, which should resist forces, however numerous, a shrine, or rather an asylum for the liberty of their bandit heroes. The "scrip" men and saints, being now fully persuaded of the inability of the Greeks to help themselves, anxiously look to another quarter, and in their desire to drive the Turks and Egyptians into the sea, have clothed Russia with the new attribute of humanity, which, by some strange oversight, was never allotted her before. How little do they reflect that they aid the Greeks, not to their emancipation, but only to a change of masters, and that they are now neutralizing the effect of their loans, their subscriptions, their appeals, and their protestations. The Greek will still be in as miserable a state of subjection as ever: he will perhaps enjoy a charter, affording him exactly as much protection as such pieces of parchment usually do afford against steel bayonets,—protection against *all the world*, except the most inveterate of his enemies, his own masters. In this posture of affairs, it may not be inexpedient to compare the two powers who are striving for the mastery of Greece, and to recollect, that it signifies little or nothing to these unhappy victims of liberty, whether they are to be ruled by the Ottomans or Cossacks, by a Pacha, or a Hospodar, or a Viceroy. Religion, the ever-ready pretext, is also called in to aid the Grecian cause. The crescent has been trampled on, and the Greek cross exalted. We admire the discernment of those who call themselves tolerant, but would deprive an ancient ally of his legitimate subjects, and rightful territory, because he unhappily believes that Mahomet is the prophet of God. But to whom are the Greeks transferred? To a nation, which, with a great propensity to the *knout*, still styles itself Christian, and worships a certain thing, called a "Bogh," being nearly as apt a representation of the Deity, as the blasphemous, beastly, blundering caricature, which might have been seen not long ago in the shop of the wretched Carlile. We admire the discernment of those, with whom the disinterested piety of the Autocrat of all the Russias finds such favour, that they create him a Pope in this new crusade, and transfer the thunders of Catholicism and Christianity from the Vatican to the Kremlin, whence they will not fail to burst in the less mysterious, but more powerful, shape of muskets and artillery.

Let not the English people be cheated by the gross mummery

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which is now carrying on to decieve them. It is not *in de-fence of the Greeks* that the virtuous Autocrat is marching his armies to the Pruth, but *against the Turks*, and *for Russia*. Can any one be so blind, as to imagine that the Russian Eagle would be too fastidious to prey upon the bodies of Christians, if they were equally in her way with the circumcised and shaven Mussulmans? Wretchedly ignorant indeed must they be of the present state of Europe, who can seriously contemplate the *in-dependence* of a puny state, which is not able to effect its own *liberation*. Let them look at the *free* states, and *free* cities of Europe, possessing, indeed, the name, but not even the shadow of independence! States, whose fortresses are garrisoned by the troops of powerful neighbours, and who dare not even harbour the persecuted author of a political pamphlet. We are aware that we shall be called by many, enemies of humanity, and the friends of infidels. Such persons must greatly misunderstand our principles. Let us not be called the enemies of Greece because we refuse our support to *Russia*. Far from it! We would, for humanity's sake, that the European powers should interpose between Greece and the Porte, not for the purpose of dismembering the latter, but of protecting the former. We would be cautious in interfering between any state and its subject territory, but least of all would we meditate transferring such territory from under one tyranny, if tyranny it be, to another, equally odious but more powerful, and thereby lending ourselves to a positive injustice to confer a very questionable benefit.

To recognize the existence of a state which has wrought its own independence, which has organized its troops, its revenues, and its constitution, and which has, of its own internal power, and by means of its own resources, assumed the attributes of an independent state, is a step worthy the auspices of an able minister, and is suggested by a liberal and discriminating policy. But to step forward in defence of a revolted territory, legally subjected by conquest and prescription to a higher power, is a precedent of all others the most dangerous. To take a case in point—suppose the people of Ireland were suddenly to question our right, and assert their independence, and suppose at this juncture France were to step forward and swear that we were a set of tyrants and heretics, and forthwith, in a devout paroxysm of political piety, advocate the cause of their Catholic brethren, by first *mediating*, and then openly *interfering*,—what should we say of their policy or liberality? We should, in all probability, man a fleet and blow them and their friendly interference into the air for a parcel of canting and hypocritical Jesuits. Nor should we treat them any worse than they would deserve. May the carcases of the Muscovite slaves prove a savory banquet to the vultures of Wallachia!

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## Advertisements.

### POPULAR NEW WORKS,

#### VIVIAN GREY.

Why then the world's mine oyster,
Which 1 with sword will open.

In 2 vols. post Svo. 18s.

NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS' ENTERTAINMENTS, Selected from the original ORIENTAL MS. by Jos. VON HAMMER, and now first translated into English by the Rev. GEORGE LAMB. In 3 vols. small Svo. 18s.

SANDOVAL; or, THE FREEMASON, a Spanish Tale of PRESENT TIMES. By the Author of "Don Esteban," In 3 vols. post Svo. 1. 8s. 6d.

BRAMBLETYE HOUSE; or, Cavaliers and Roundheads. A Novel. By one of the Authors of "The Rejected Addresses." The Second Edition. In 3 vols. post Svo. price 1. 11s. 6d.

THE LAST MAN. A Romance. By the Author of "Frankenstein," "Castruccio," &c. In 3 vols. post Svo. 1. 7s.

LETTERS FROM THE EAST; Written during a recent Tour through TURKEY, EGYPT, ARABIA, the HOLY LAND, SYRIA, and GREECE. By JOHN CARNE, Esq. of Queen's College, Cambridge. In one large volume, with a coloured Plate. 18s.

SYLVA; or, A DISCOURSE of FOREST TREES, and the Propagation of Timber; to which is added the "TERRA." By JOHN EVELYN, Esq. A new Edition, with Notes by the late A. HUNTER, Esq. F. R. S. &c. In 2 vols. 4to. Embellished with numerous Plates. Price 4. 10s. in boards.

"The Adventures of a Young Rifleman form one of the most entertaining volumes we have of late years met with. We can truly say, that the Rifleman's confessions will afford, to every one that makes the experiment, a delightful evening, and a harvest of valuable recollections."—Representatives.

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BURKE'S DICTIONARY of the PEERAGE and BARONETAGE of the UNITED KINGDOM, for 1826; with an Appendix, comprising the Prelates, the Surnames of Peers, Titles by Courtesy of their Eldest Sons, Names of Heirs-Presumptive, &c. Dedicated to the King. In one handsome volume, crown Svo. With Plates of the Arms, beautifully engraved by Neele. Price 18s.

### NEW WORKS IN THE PRESS,

Just Published, NED CLINTON; or, THE COMMISSARY. comprising Adventures and Events during the Peninsular War; with Curious and Original Anecdotes of Military and other remarkable Characters. 3 vols. 12mo. 1. 1s.

142 THE STAR CHAMBER.

Just Published, The First and Second Games of the MATCH at CHESS now pending between the LONDON and EDINBURGH CHESS CLUBS, with numerous Variations and Remarks. By W. LEWIS. Svo. 8s.

The Third and Fourth Games are in the Press, and will soon be ready for Publication. Svo. 8s.

In the Press, TALES in VERSE, Illustrative of the Several Petitions of the LORD'S PRAYER. By the Rev. H. H. LYTE. 12mo. 5. 6d.

WILLIAM MARSH,
BOOKSELLER, PUBLISHER, BOOKBINDER, & STATIONER,
No. 145, OXFORD STREET,
(NEXT TO FLADONG'S HOTEL,)
LONDON.

WILLIAM MARSH has also the honour to inform the Nobility, Subscribers to the Opera, and the Public, that, having at an early period secured the best Boxes in every part of the Opera House, he is now enabled to offer them for the Season, alternate Weeks, or Nightly, very considerably under the usual Prices. Also Box and Fit Tickets for the FRENCH THEATRE; and COMMODIOUS PRIVATE BOXES, with well-furnished Anti-Rooms, in the best Situations at the Theatres Royal Drury Lane and Covent Garden.

London: Published by W. MARSH, 145, Oxford Street; where Advertisements and Communications, addressed (free of postage) to the Secretary, may be left. Printed by B. JOHNSON, 2, Herbert's Passage, Beaufort Buildings, Strand.

THE STAR CHAMBER.

No. 9.] WEDNESDAY, JUNE 7th, 1826. [Price 4d.

“He would diverse times goe into the Star Chamber, as occasion would serve: there he spared neither high nor lowe, but judged every estate according to his merits and desertes.”
CAVENDISH'S LIFE OF WOLSEY.

TAKE NOTICE!

Owing to the unprincipled conduct of Mr. HILARY DART, who promised me for this week a right, witty, and convincing half sheet on the mysterious affair of “the General,” but who, on the contrary, has in defiance of his pledged word, suddenly departed for Ascot, where he remains, I am under the necessity of sending forth a demi-number. FITZ-ELDON is completing a most successful canvass, and I cannot, therefore, reckon upon his assistance. I am myself out of town. Had Mr. DART allowed me half a day's notice, I could easily have run up a settling article on any of the great vexatæ quæstiones. I could have discovered JUNIUS, proved that Mr. AGAR ELLIS is not the man in the Iron Mask, or demonstrated that PSAMMETICHUS was a favorite cat-monkey of CLEOPATRA. As it is, there is no avail. I leave Richmond for the Bight of Benin to-morrow.

NIMROD BABEL.

A DESCRIPTION OF 1826:

WRITTEN ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO.

During the mad period of the South Sea Scheme LORD CHANCELLOR COWPER, stepped forward to warn the public in a similar manner as the present LORD CHANCELLOR ELDON did during our late national insanity, and his warning was similarly regarded. In a pamphlet on the State of the Country, written immediately afterwards, by PHILLIPS, is an invocation to LORD COWPER, which applies so wonderfully to the present period, that we cannot refrain from transcribing it.

“Oh! Eunomius, oraculous in thy speech, happy had it been for thy country if thy wisdom and integrity had prevailed over the rashness of some, and the avarice of others! Hereafter mayest thou never speak in vain; and may thy counsels help to remedy those evils they might have prevented! May the King hasten his return to his deluded, abused subjects, and the council of the nation be speedily summoned for the redress of the land! In the mean time let us mutually bear with, and assist one another in our present necessities; and since we are as free, though

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not so rich a people as we have been, and still claim as our
birth-right the liberty to debate, to speak, to write manfully for
the public good, let us not be dejected like our neighbours, after
whose inventions we have gone astray, nor sorrow even as
others, who have no hope.”

“Have we been delivered from the curse of arbitrary power,
have we been preserved from the destruction of the sword, the
rage of fire, the scourge of pestilence, and the ghastly terrors of
famine, to suffer by the mean artifices of money changers! Oh my
fellow citizens, you have joined with the spoilers, yet have you not
added to your stores. Let me print the remembrance of your past
inadvertency upon your hearts, that it may abide as a memorial
to you and to your children, that deceivers may not hereafter
inherit your possessions. And whereunto shall I liken our past
inadvertency, that it may abide as a memorial to us and to our
children. Oh my fellow citizens, we have waged a civil war
throughout the land; who hath not committed hostilities against
his neighbour, and what hath it profited? The wealth, the in-
heritance of the Island are transferred to the meanest of the
people; those chiefly have gained who had nothing to lose;
the nobility, the gentry, the merchants, have been a prey to the
idle, the licentious, the spendthrift; men whose habitations were
not known. All the calamities have we felt of a civil war, blood-
shed only excepted; they who abounded, suffered want. The
industry, the trade of the nation, has been suspended, and even
arts and sciences have languished in the general confusion: the
very women have been exposed to plunder, whose condition
is the more deplorable, because they are not acquainted with the
methods of gain to repair their broken fortunes. Some are
driven from their country, others forced into confinement, some
are weary of life; and others there are, who can neither be
comforted nor recovered to the use of reason.”

MS. NOTES ON THE POLICE, BY THE CELEBRATED
SIR JOHN FIELDING.

The following notes will probably prove interesting to our
Magistrates:—

“Watchmen too old—should be from twenty-five to fifty;
their beats too extensive—should not exceed twenty houses on
each side of the way. Watchmen too few—the sum raised for
the watch too little, only fourpence in the pound—should be
sixpence.

“Ward-officers to be chosen out of those inhabitants that have
served the office of constable, and to have a good salary. One

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145

half of the constables to be discharged within the year, so that
one half remaining two years, will be able to instruct the new
officers, and the whole duty will be well done. If the new pro-
visions for the watch can be established by the commissioners re-
maining where they are, it will save trouble; for then the money
may be raised by them as it now is, and every parish may pay
and clothe their own watchmen; so that the appointment, dis-
tribution, direction, wages, number, and punishment of the watch,
may be in the magistrates by a new commission, and the paying
and clothing be in the present commissioners.

“The words ‘A Constable of the Cities and Liberties of
Westminster,’ to be placed over the constables’ doors; the
words ‘Ward-officer’ over the ward-officers’ doors. Beadles
by name to be discharged, and the necessary part of their duty
they now do, to be performed by the ward-officers.

“The round-houses should be capacious, no liquor should be
sold in them. Publicans should be punished for permitting
watchmen to tipple during their duty, and watchmen should be
particularly rewarded for diligence and punished for neglect by
the civil power. A whole night’s duty is too hard; there should
be reliefs under the command of the ward-officers. High con-
stables should not quit their offices at the end of three years.”

The New Farce announced for representation at the Haymarket
Theatre on Monday next, is from the successful pen of J. POOLE,
Esq. Author of Paul Pry.

POOR MRS. GOULDING OF CLAPHAM.

A ROMANCE.

After the famous Cock Lane Ghost story, hoaxes of that de-
scription were not uncommon. The following statement was
sent to SIR JOHN FIELDING, and recommended to the particular
consideration of his Majesty's government, and the attention of
the Bench of Bishops. It is worthy of THEODORE HOOK, and
was probably a production of his father.

“To SIR JOHN FIELDING, Knight, His Majesty’s Worshipful
Justice.

“May it please your Worship!

“At the house of one Mrs. GOULDING, a single gentlewoman
at Stockwell, in the parish of Lambeth, in Surrey, about 11
o’clock in the forenoon on Monday last, there being no person

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except herself and servant (ANN ROBINSON, aged fifteen years or thereabouts), several earthen plates, and one dish, of what is called the Queen's-ware, which was placed on a shelf in one of the kitchen's, fell down, and all broke except the dish, without any visible cause; in a little time after, several candlesticks and other things, the furniture of a mantel-piece in the back kitchen, were thrown into the middle of the floor, though no person was in that room; then some china, &c. on the mantel-piece in the other kitchen, was in like manner thrown into the middle of the floor and broke, and as the pieces lay, they snapped and flew just as though they had been thrown on an exceeding hot fire; a glazed lanthorn which hung on the staircase was thrown down; a clock also was thrown down and broke; a red earthen pan, containing salt beef, flew in pieces, and the beef fell about; and many such like uncommon things happened; which causing an alarm, the people from the road, without distinction ran into the house, some supposing it to be on fire, others thought that the house had received a shock from the explosion of a powder-mill at Hounslow, which was blown up about an hour before. However, all concurred in moving the goods; and Mrs. GOULDING, together with her maid servant, went to Mr. GRESHAM'S, a gentleman who lives in the next house to Mrs. GOULDING'S, whither the goods were carried, and particularly a tray full of china, an iron bread-basket, japanned, two mahogany waiters, several bottles of different sorts of liquors, a gallipot of jelly, and a pier glass, worth about five pounds, which glass was taken down by one Mr. SAVILLE (a neighbour to Mrs. GOULDING) who handed it to one ROBERT HAMES, and a part of the gilt work on each side of the frame flew off before he could put it down in the garden; but when it was laid down, remained without farther damage till it was taken into Mr. GRESHAM'S, and put under a side-board, where it flew to pieces. Mr. SAVILLE and others going to drink of a bottle of rum and a bottle of wine, they both flew to pieces, though they were uncorked; the china in the tray flew in pieces, some while it was in the house, and the rest in the garden, whither it was removed by the affrighted spectators after it began to break; the bread-basket was thrown down and broke, as also were the two mahogany waiters, and the pot of jelly, together with bottles of liquors and jars of pickles, all of them the property of Mrs. GOULDING. Mrs. GOULDING, being ill with the fright, was let blood by Mr. GARDENER, a surgeon of Clapham, who borrowed a pint china bowl of Mr. GRESHAM'S people to receive the blood, which being afterwards set upon a side-board, near a bottle of rum, the property of Mrs. GOULDING, both bottle and bowl jumped on the floor and broke, the bowl going into five pieces (a piece of which is now in the possession of Mr. WATERFIELD, at the Royal Oak Inn, Vauxhall). Mrs. GOULDING and her servant then went to Mrs. MAYLIN'S, next door to Mr. GRESHAM'S; but during their stay there (which

was but very short) nothing extraordinary happened; from thence they went to the house of Farmer PAYNE (to whose wife Mrs. GOULDING is related), on Rush Common, near the Wash Way, about half a mile distant from her own house, where they found Mr. and Miss GRESHAM, Mr. PAYNE, and his family; it being about dinner-time, they all dined with Mr. PAYNE; some time after dinner, Mrs. GOULDING's servant was sent home to examine into the state of the house, and returned with an account that every thing there had been quiet from the time they left it. In a little time after the return of the servant, Mr. and Miss GRESHAM went home (nothing unaccountable having yet happened at Mr. PAYNE'S); but Mrs. GOULDING and her servant stayed; and about seven o'clock in the evening, the same kind of uncommon operations as had been seen at Mrs. GOULDING'S, began at Mr. PAYNE'S, by seven pewter dishes out of eight falling from a top shelf over a dresser in the kitchen, without any apparent cause, which was followed by an infinite number of examples, not less strange, and particularly the following: a pestle and mortar jumped from the mantel-piece in the kitchen to the floor, about six feet; a row of pewter plates fell from the second shelf (over the dresser) to the ground, and being taken up, and put one in the other on the dresser, which is about three feet high, they were thrown down again, and lay in the same manner as plates generally are on a shelf; the pewter, china, earthenware, &c. were then almost all set on the floors in the kitchen and parlour (to prevent being broke or bruised in falling), but four pewter plates were left on one of the shelves over the dresser, which plates did not move the whole night. While the things were putting on the ground, a stone tea cup jumped out of a beaufet to the floor; on the floor a glass tumbler jumped about a foot and a half and broke; another that stood near it jumped also about the same distance, but remained whole for some hours afterwards, then took another spring and broke also; a china bowl jumped from the floor in the middle of the parlour, and went behind the feet of a claw table, which was standing in the same parlour, at the distance of about eight feet, but did not break at that time, but being replaced by one Mr. FOWLER, remained whole for a considerable time afterwards, and then flew to pieces; three china cups, which had been left on the dresser in the kitchen, jumped about twelve feet, by which two were broke; an egg flew from the lower shelf over the dresser, taking the same direction as the cups had done, and went nearly the same distance; there was another egg on the shelf, which did not move the whole night; a candlestick flew from the mantel-piece in the kitchen into the parlour door-way, about fifteen feet from the place where it stood; a tea-kettle under the dresser was thrown out about two feet; another tea-kettle which stood on the side of the grate, was thrown out against an iron that is fixed to keep the children from the fire; a mustard-glass, which

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147

148

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was a little broke by some natural accident, was thrown from
a table into a pewter dish on the floor, at about seven feet dis-
tance, but did not break, neither was it broke afterwards; the
cup that had escaped when the other two were broke (as is be-
fore mentioned) being set on a table in the parlour, flew off to
the distance of nine feet and broke; a tumbler with a little rum
and water in it, standing on a waiter upon a tumbler in the same
parlour, jumped about ten feet and broke; the table then over-
set, and threw off a silver tankard of Mrs. GOULDING's, a can-
dlestick and the waiter the tumbler had jumped from; two hams,
which had been hung up in the chimney to dry, fell down,
though the nails on and by which they had hung were not broke
or misplaced; a case bottle of liquor, part of which they had
just drank, flew into pieces; and, in short, about four o'clock in
the morning of Tuesday, almost every thing in the parlour and
kitchen were animated, and made such a racket, that Mr.
PAYNE's maid-servant ran up stairs, and took a child out of bed,
and carried it into the stable naked thinking it was not safe
longer to stay in the house. Mrs. GOULDING then seeing the
general confusion, went with her servant across the road to Mr.
FOWLER's (the same Mr. FOWLER that is before mentioned in
this narrative) and were accompanied by Mrs. PAYNE and her
son, about nine years of age; and the confusion at Mr. PAYNE's
immediately ceased. When Mr. FOWLER had let them into his
house, he proceeded to light a fire in his back room, which
done, he put the candlestick and candle he had used upon a
table in his fore-room (through which Mrs. GOULDING and her
servant had passed), where also stood another candlestick with
a tin lamp in it, but they did not stand long before they were
knocked against each other, and thrown to the ground by some
invisible agent; then a lanthorn in the back room, that had been
used in lighting Mrs. GOULDING, &c. across the road, was thrown
to the ground; and lastly, a bushel of coals, which was brought
from Mr. PAYNE's, overset, and emptied itself upon the floor.
Mr. FOWLER upon this told Mrs. GOULDING he feared she had
been guilty of some bad act, as it was plain the cause of such
wonderful events were carried with her; but Mrs. GOULDING
answered that her conscience was clear from any extraordinary
evil, and that she could not tell the cause why she was so trou-
bled, or such like words; however, Mr. FOWLER desired her to
quit his house, as he could not afford to have his goods destroyed;
whereupon, Mrs. GOULDING and her servant left his house, which
has been quiet ever since, and returned to her own house, and in
a little time after their arrival, a cask with some beer in it was
thrown from its stand, and a pail of water was moved from its
place a little, and some of the water spilled, but nothing more
happened; then she discharged her servant, and has remained
quiet ever since.”

THE STAR CHAMBER.

149

DISSOLUTION OF PARLIAMENT.

The Parliament is at length dissolved, and we feel it incum-
bent on us to take a very brief notice of the result of their labours
in the present session. Their first discussions raised a panic to
its utmost pitch, which they had intended to calm. They passed
the estimates for the present year, vainly imagining that past
prosperity could be a pledge for future revenue. They pre-
tended great humanity towards the negroes of the West Indies,
and listened with laudable patience to sundry philanthropic ha-
rangues from sundry saints and sinners on that highly interesting,
but particularly stale topic. And then, just as the session was
drawing to its close, when the honest country members, fatigued
with the farce of divisions, dazzled by the rhetoric of CANNING,
puzzled by the philosophy of HUSKISSON, and terrified by the
estimates of ROBINSON, had already departed for their homes, a
couple of bills were foisted in and pushed through the house
with a most laudable celerity, and ingenious deprecation of all
discussion on their merits or demerits. Of these two bills we
can only say, that they are insulting to the operatives, whose
wants they were intended to relieve, and oppressive to the
farmers, who in their present very precarious situation must in-
evitably yield, unless supported by the honest indignation, and
unanimous concurrence of all well-wishers for their country, to
the ridiculous rhetoric, and idle philosophy, which are now
making such terrific inroads into the British constitution. We
pass over a vain attempt at raising certain salaries, and establish-
ing certain sinecures, together with other minor topics of delibe-
ration. We deliver over the various members for boroughs or
counties to the indignation or gratitude of their constituents, and
hope that they also will employ their privilege of sparing neither
high nor low, rich nor poor, but judging every state according to
their merits and deserts. With the cessation of the present Parlia-
ment, the sitting of the STAR-CHAMBER will for the present cease.
For the short period of two months we have claimed, and not in
vain, the attention of the British public. In this limited time we
have exerted ourselves, if not to reform our countrymen in their
several defects, at least to direct their attention to those points,
which stand most in need of reformation. To the corruptions
of ministerial influence, especially so far as appertains to our
commercial and agricultural interests, to the fallacious enthu-
siasm of Grecian independence, to the impositions of parliamen-
tary candidates and their dishonest practices, to the emaciated
debility of our poetical, and to the craft of our periodical litera-
ture, to many other topics of equal interest and importance, we
have endeavoured to fix, if but for a moment, the wavering

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thoughts of the people. But, above all, we have set an ex-
ample of bold and manly language, which some miserable
cravens have been base enough to denounce as slanderous, but
which has, in fact, no aim in view except to effect a correspond-
ing decision in our national conduct and character. We shall
most anxiously watch the effects of this attempt throughout the
next six months, and shall in the mean time prepare ourselves
for a longer and more effectual exertion, when the new assembly
of our Parliament is prepared to discharge its functions.

GREECE.

The following lines extracted from Lord Byron's Childe Ha-
rd, we insert to show that we are supported in our opinion on
the subject of the liberation of Greece, by the remarks of a man,
who had the best opportunities of judging of the state of affairs,
and who was no superficial or incorrect observer of mankind.

"Hereditary bondsmen! know ye not
Who would be free themselves must strike the blow?
By their right arm the conquest must be wrought?
Will Gaul or Muscovite redress ye? No!
True, they may lay your proud despoilers low,
But not for you will freedom's altars flame.
Shades of the Helots! triumph o'er your foe!
Greece! change thy Lords, thy state is still the same;
Thy glorious day is o'er, but not thine years of shame.

"The city won for Allah from the Giaour,
The Giaour from Ottoman's race again may wrest;
And the Serai's impenetrable tower
Receive the fiery Frank, her former guest;
Or Wahab's rebel brood who dared divest
The prophet's tomb of all its pious spoil,
May wind their path of blood along the west;
But ne'er will freedom seek this fated soil,
But slave succeed to slave through years of endless toil."

We also extract the following just observations from the papers
in the Appendix.

"To talk, as the Greeks themselves do, of their rising again
to their pristine superiority, would be ridiculous; as the rest of

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151

the world must resume its barbarism, after reasserting the sove-
reignty of Greece;\* but there seems to be no very great obstacle,
except in the apathy of the Franks, to their becoming an useful
dependency, or even a free state, with a proper guarantee;—
under correction, however, be it spoken, for many, and well-in-
formed men, doubt the practicability even of this.

"The Greeks have never lost their hope, though they are now
more divided in opinion on the subject of their probable deli-
verers. Religion recommends the Russians; but they have
twice been deceived and abandoned by that power, and the
dreadful lesson they received after the Muscovite desertion in the
Morea, has never been forgotten. The French they dislike; al-
though the subjugation of the rest of Europe will probably be at-
tended by the deliverance of continental Greece.† The islanders
look to the English for succour, as they have very lately possess-
ed themselves of the Ionian republic, Corfu excepted. But who-
ever appear with arms in their hands will be welcome.

\* And why should all this revolution take place for one nation? The tide of power has ever since the beginning of the world flowed from the east to the west, and has always left behind it the wrecks of great states. As well might we restore Babylon, Palmyra, Tyre, Jerusalem, Memphis, with its hundred gates, Carthage, and lastly, Rome, whose dependent subjection is almost more loathsome than the hopeless ruin, and even total disappearance of some of these cities. Power has within our recollection extended to lands still farther west than Britain. In such movements the hand of Providence is clearly visible, and who shall withstand it?

The idle talk about Greece being the mistress of the arts, and the foun-
tain of learning, is now passed by. It sounds well in a poem, but suits not
the measured style of a diplomatist. If such were really an argument, what
should we say of a nation, whose nobles disdain to speak their own lan-
guage, whose roads, as well as their palaces, are constructed with wood,
and who have within these few years made the important and joyful disco-
very that they actually do possess one native poet! As well might we in-
voke the assistance of the Fellatah's of Nubia, or the black spearmen of his
Majesty of Bornou to drive the wandering Arab from the ruins of Memphis,
and restore with all its pristine splendour the royal race of Cheops!

† This was written at the time when Napoleon's sway over a large portion of Europe was almost undisputed, with every probability of its being still more widely extended.

152

THE STAR CHAMBER.

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THE STAR CHAMBER.

153

"THE LIFE and TIMES of FREDERICK REYNOLDS (the Dramatist), written by himself, 2 vols. Svo, with portrait.

GASTON DE BLONDEVILLE; a Romance, with some Poetical Pieces. By Anne Radcliffe, Author of "The Romance of the Forest;" "Mysteries of Udalpho;" "Italian," &c. to which will be prefixed, a Memoir of the Author, and Extracts from her Diary. Published from the Originals, in the possession of William Radcliffe, Esq. 4 vols. post Svo.

BURKE'S DICTIONARY of the PEERAGE and BARONETAGE of the UNITED KINGDOM, for 1826; with an Appendix, comprising the Prelates, the Summes of Peers, Titles by Courtesy of their Eldest Sons, Names of Heirs-Presumptive, &c. Dedicated to the King. In one handsome volume, crown Svo. With Plates of the Arms, beautifully engraved by Neele. Price 18s.

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154 THE STAR CHAMBER.

WILLIAM MARSH,
BOOKSELLER, PUBLISHER, BOOKBINDER, & STATIONER,
No. 145, OXFORD STREET,
(NEXT TO FLADONG'S HOTEL.)
LONDON.

King's Theatre, Italian Opera; The French Theatre; and
Theatres Royal, Covent Garden and Drury Lane.