Skip to main content

Full text of "Noctes Ambrosianæ"

See other formats 


This  is  a  digital  copy  of  a  book  that  was  preserved  for  generations  on  library  shelves  before  it  was  carefully  scanned  by  Google  as  part  of  a  project 
to  make  the  world's  books  discoverable  online. 

It  has  survived  long  enough  for  the  copyright  to  expire  and  the  book  to  enter  the  public  domain.  A  public  domain  book  is  one  that  was  never  subject 
to  copyright  or  whose  legal  copyright  term  has  expired.  Whether  a  book  is  in  the  public  domain  may  vary  country  to  country.  Public  domain  books 
are  our  gateways  to  the  past,  representing  a  wealth  of  history,  culture  and  knowledge  that's  often  difficult  to  discover. 

Marks,  notations  and  other  marginalia  present  in  the  original  volume  will  appear  in  this  file  -  a  reminder  of  this  book's  long  journey  from  the 
publisher  to  a  library  and  finally  to  you. 

Usage  guidelines 

Google  is  proud  to  partner  with  libraries  to  digitize  public  domain  materials  and  make  them  widely  accessible.  Public  domain  books  belong  to  the 
public  and  we  are  merely  their  custodians.  Nevertheless,  this  work  is  expensive,  so  in  order  to  keep  providing  this  resource,  we  have  taken  steps  to 
prevent  abuse  by  commercial  parties,  including  placing  technical  restrictions  on  automated  querying. 

We  also  ask  that  you: 

+  Make  non-commercial  use  of  the  files  We  designed  Google  Book  Search  for  use  by  individuals,  and  we  request  that  you  use  these  files  for 
personal,  non-commercial  purposes. 

+  Refrain  from  automated  querying  Do  not  send  automated  queries  of  any  sort  to  Google's  system:  If  you  are  conducting  research  on  machine 
translation,  optical  character  recognition  or  other  areas  where  access  to  a  large  amount  of  text  is  helpful,  please  contact  us.  We  encourage  the 
use  of  public  domain  materials  for  these  purposes  and  may  be  able  to  help. 

+  Maintain  attribution  The  Google  "watermark"  you  see  on  each  file  is  essential  for  informing  people  about  this  project  and  helping  them  find 
additional  materials  through  Google  Book  Search.  Please  do  not  remove  it. 

+  Keep  it  legal  Whatever  your  use,  remember  that  you  are  responsible  for  ensuring  that  what  you  are  doing  is  legal.  Do  not  assume  that  just 
because  we  believe  a  book  is  in  the  public  domain  for  users  in  the  United  States,  that  the  work  is  also  in  the  public  domain  for  users  in  other 
countries.  Whether  a  book  is  still  in  copyright  varies  from  country  to  country,  and  we  can't  offer  guidance  on  whether  any  specific  use  of 
any  specific  book  is  allowed.  Please  do  not  assume  that  a  book's  appearance  in  Google  Book  Search  means  it  can  be  used  in  any  manner 
anywhere  in  the  world.  Copyright  infringement  liability  can  be  quite  severe. 

About  Google  Book  Search 

Google's  mission  is  to  organize  the  world's  information  and  to  make  it  universally  accessible  and  useful.  Google  Book  Search  helps  readers 
discover  the  world's  books  while  helping  authors  and  publishers  reach  new  audiences.  You  can  search  through  the  full  text  of  this  book  on  the  web 


at|http  :  //books  .  google  .  com/ 


inniiiii 
HN  avs 


a  L 


K/r  iz  1^ 


HARW\RD  COLLEGE  LIBRARY 
IN  MEMORY  OF 

HENRY  WESTON  FARNSWOPTH 

CXASS  OF  I912 
A  SOLDIER  OF  THE  FOREIGN  LEGION  IN  FRANa 

1915 


Digitized  by 


Google 


« 


Digitized  by 


Google 


Digitized  by 


Google 


Digitized  by 


Google 


Digitized  by 


Google 


Digitized  by 


Google 


Digitized  by 


Google 


NOCTES  AMBROSlANiE 


JOHN  WILSON 

"  dHBIBTOPHXB  KOBTH,"  OF  BLAOKWOOD^S  MAQAZIinB,  PB0FBS80B  Of  MORAL 
PHILOSOPHY  IN  TTKIYSBSITT  OF  EDINBUBGH,  ITa 


WM.  MAGINN,  LL.D.,  J.  G.  LOOKHABT,  JAMES  HOGG,  AND  OTHKES. 


KKVTSKU    F:i3  1'riON 


MEMOIBS   AND  NOTES 

BY  E,  SHELTON  MACKENZIE,  D.  C  L. 
Vol.   Ill 

JANUABY,    1828— APRIL,  1830 


XBW  YORK 
W.  J.  WIDDLETON,   PUBLISHER 

1866. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  jeftr  1S<^ 

Bt  W.  J.  WIDDLETOi;, 

lu  tUe  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States,  for  the  Southern  District  of 

New  York. 


ONB  HX7NDBBD  COPIES  PBIYATELT  PBINTBD. 

No. 


▲  LVOBD       PBIMTBR. 


?' 


^ 


Digitized  by 


Google 


MEMOIR 

or 

JOHN  GIBSON  LOCKHART. 

BY  DR.  SHELTON  MACKENZIE. 


John  Qtbson  LocsnaART,  Editor  of  the  Quarterly  Review  from  1826  to 
1853,  was  born  at  Glasgow,  in  Scotland,  in  1792.  His  father  was  a  clergy- 
man  coming  fromMilton-Lockhart,  in  Lanarkshire,  the  family  seat,  which  has 
descended  to  William  Lockhart,  the  eldest  son,  now  M.  P.  for  Lanarkshire. 

Belonging  thus  to  the  capital  of  ^  the  West  Conntrie,"  jonng  Lockhart 
received  his  education,  almost  as  a  matter  of  course,  at  the  time-honored 
University  (founded  1450)  where  Wilson  had  preceded  him,  not  long  before. 
In  the  days  of  auld  lang  syne,  a  liberal  Scot  who  had  also  graduated  in  this 
University,  had  appropriated  a  considerable  estate  for  the  purpose  of  founding 
Exhibitions,  to  afford  certain  selected  QIasgow  students  the  means  of  passing 
through  the  more  aristocratic  and  expensive  University  of  Oxford.  Lockhart 
was  elected  to  an  Exhibition  (or  paid  Scholarship)  in  Baliol  Collie,  Oxford, 
the  annual  emolument  of  which  was  estimated  at  £200  a  year,  and  there  com- 
pleted his  education.  His  career  was  not  marked  by  any  distinguished  public 
honors,  but  he  gained  the  reputation  of  having  thoroughly  succeeded  in  his 
classical  course,  and  of  having  voluntarily  acquired,  while  at  Oxford,  a  familiar 
acquaintance  with  French,  Italian,  German,  Spanish,  and  Portuguese. 

Having  duly  graduated  as  Bachelor  of  Arts,  (he  afterwards  took  the  degree 
of  Master,  and  finally  that  of  Bachelor  of  Civil  Law,  preparatory  to  practice 
in  the  Ecclesiastical  Courts  in  England.)  Lockhart  quitted  Oxford,  and  pro- 
ceeded upon  a  Continental  tour.  This  was  shortly  after  the  downfall  of  Na- 
poleon. While  in  Germany,  he  became  intimate  with  Goethe,  the  majestic 
beauty  of  whose  countenance  struck  him  with  as  much  awe  as  admiration. 

Betuming  to  Scotland,  about  the  time  when  Blackwood's  Magazine  was 
commenced,  and  fully  sharing  in  its  sturdy  proprietor's  strong  Toryism  and 
onquenchable  hatred  of  the  Edinburgh  Review,*  it  was  not  long  before  he 

*  It  It  worth  notice  tbAt,  wh«n  tho  Sdkibwgh  JUtietc  wm  oommenced,  in  1809,  bj  Sydney 


Digitized  by 


Google 


IV  HEMOm  OF  JOHN  GIBSON  LOOKHABT. 

'^fleshed  his  maiden  pen*'  in  its  pages.  His  first  ascertained  assistance  was 
the  infusion  of  a  large  quantity  of  bitter  local  personalities  into  Thb  Chaldei 
Manuscript.  Hogg  pablicly  and  repeatedly  accused  him  of  having  added 
nearly  all  that  was  mischievous  and  objectionable  to  that  celebrated  article. 

This  was  in  October,  1817 ;  but,  before  this,  Lockhart  had  taken  the  neces- 
sary steps  (like  Wilson)  to  become  a  member  of  the  Scottish  bar.  In  process 
of  time  he  was  admitted,  and  duly  attended  the  Courts  in  quest  of  practice, 
but  the  aggregate  of  his  bar-earnings  must  have  fieJlen  far  short  of  the  £300 
which  tie  had  to  pay,  in  fees  and  for  stamps,  on  becoming  a  ^  Counsellor."* 

From  the  appearance  of  the  Clialdee  Manuscript,  the  two  writers  upon 
whom  Blackwood  placed  most  reliance,  as  contributors,  were  Wilson  and 
Lockhart  Both  composed  rapidly,  but  Lockhart  never  tired.  He  would 
dash  ofi^  in  the  course  of  one  day,  thirty-two  printed  columns,  or  a  whole  sheet 
of  Blackwood^  and  found  no  difficulty  in  continuing  to  cover  paper,  at  the  same 
rapid  rate,  for  ten  days  consecutively.  He  used  to  say  (and  it  was  no  idle 
boast)  that  he  readily  could  write  a  whole  number  of  the  Magazine  in  one 
week. 

Li  May,  1818,  he  was  introduced,  at  dinner,  to  Scott,  with  whom  he  had  a 
great  deal  of  conversation,  chiefly  about  German  literati  and  their  writings. 
The  impression  he  made  on  the  mind  of  the  mighty  Master  must  have  beer 
&vorabIe,  for,  shortly  after,  was  conmmnicated  to  him  Scott's  desire  that  he 
(Lockhart)  should  write  the  Historical  department  of  BaHantyne's  Edinburgh 
Annual  Register  for  1816 — a  task  which  Scott  had  executed  in  the  two  pre- 
ceding years,  but  could  not  then  accomplish,  from  pressure  of  other  and  more 
important  literary  engagements.  Acceding  to  this  request,  he  so  frequently 
met  Scott  that  an  intimacy  arose  between  them,  and  Lockhart  became  a  con- 
stant guest  at  Scott's  Sunday  dinners,  to  which  none  but  hearty  friends  were 
admitted.  la  the  Life  of  Scott,  it  is  mentioned  what  quaint  old  stories  and 
racy  anecdotes  used  to  enliven  these  select  parties,  and  a  promise  is  there  held 
out,  not  yet  realized,  of  collecting  and  recollecting  enough  of  them  to  make  a 
volume,  additional  to  Scott's  works. 

During  this  period,  Lockhart's  contributions  to  the  Magazme  were  numer- 
ous and  important,  though  wholly  anonymous.  From  time  to  time,  there  ap- 
peared a  series  of  letters  almost  exclu^vely  devoted  to  attacks  on  ''the 
Oockney  School  of  Literature,**  (whereof  L^h  Hunt,  William  Hazlitt,  John 
Keats,  and  Percy  Bysshe  Shelley  were  assumed  to  be  the  principal,)  and  the 

Smith,  Jdtrtjt  and  Brongham,  th«  eldett  of  th«  party  was  not  ST.  Tlie  earllett  contribaton, 
besides  ttiese,  were  Professors  Flayfair  and  Leslie,  Malthas,  Francis  Homer,  Dr.  Walcot, 
(Peter  Pindar,)  nomfleld,  (now  Bishop  of  London,)  and  R.  P.  Knlffht— M. 

*  Dr.  J.  W.  Francis,  of  New-Torlc,  who  was  in  Bdlnbnrgh  In  the  winter  of  1816,  informs  me 
that,  about  that  time,  Lockhart  had  obtained  some  little  celebrity  by  sereral  able  speeohea 
which  he  had  dellreifcd  in  the  celebrated  Specolatire  Society—*  debating  dab,  to  which,  by 
the  way,  no  mercy  was  shown,  three  yean  later,  in  **  Peter's  Letters.**— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


MEMOIR  OP  JOHN  GIBSOir  LOCJraABT.  V 

tmbomided  and  sarcastic  persooalities  of  these  epistles,  bearing  the  signature 
*  Z,"  exceeded  any  thing  which,  up  to  that  Idme,  had  been  introduced  into 
re^>6ctable  periodical  litemtore.  It  was  reported  and  belieyed  that  Lockhart 
was  the  writer. 

In  Blackwoody  for  FelMnary,  1819,  had  appeared  a  review  of  **  Peter's 
Letters  to  his  Kin8fblk,"-Mi  work  professing  to  be  written  by  Dr.  Peter  Morris, 
of  Pensharpe  Hall,  Aberystwith.  No  sudi  book  was  then  published,  or  writ- 
ten. It  was  said  to  contain  the  Doctor's  letters  from  Edinburgh  and  Glasgow, 
daring  a  visit  to  both  places  in  the  winter  of  1818-19,  treating  most  freely 
indeed  of  the  Whigs  of  Edinburgh — Scottish  University  Education — the 
Edinburgh  and  Quarterly  Reviews — ^the  state  of  society  in  Edinburgh  and 
Glasgow — the  bar  of  Scotland,  with  sketches  of  its  leading  members — the 
fiunous  Glasgow  punch — ^the  state  of  religion,  &c  This  review,  apparently 
written  by  Mordecai  Mullion,  (one  of  Lockbart's  numerous  eidolons  of  the  pen,) 
excited  so  much  cariosity,  that  **  Peter's  Letters"  was  greatly  inqaired  for. 
In  the  following  month  (March,  1819)  a  further  and  fuller  review  was  given, 
with  copious  extracts,  including  descriptions  of  Clerk,  Cranstoun,  and  Jefirey, 
(the  leading  lawyers  of  the  place  and  time,)  and  the  sensation  thus  created  and 
kept  up  was  so  considerable  that  the  actaal  composition  and  publication  of  the 
work  was  determined  on. 

Accordingly,  "  Peter's  Letters "  was  put  into  type  as  ftst  as  written,  and 
emanated,  in  July,  1819,  from  Blackwood's  as  the  "  second  edition."  It  was, 
and  continues  to  be,  a  work  of  great  interest  Twenty  years  afterwwtJs, 
Lockhart  said, "  Nobody  but  a  very  young  and  very  thoughtless  person  could 
have  dreamt  of  putting  forth  such  a  book."  Scott,  after  reading  the  work  twice 
over,  expressed  his  opinion  that  Dr.  Morris  had  "  got  over  his  ground  admir- 
ably," only  that  the  general  turn  of  the  book  was  perhaps  too  favorable,  both 
to  the  state  of  Scottish  public  society  and  of  individaal  character.  He  added 
that,  every  half  century.  Dr.  Morris  should  revive  "  to  record  the  fleeting  man- 
ners of  the  age,  and  the  interesting  features  of  those  who  will  be  known  only 
to  posterity  by  their  works." 

There  was  abundant  outcry  against "  Peta*'s  Letters,"  at  first,  for  the  author 
liad  keenly  assaulted  and  ridiculed  the  Edinburgh  Whigs,  but  the  merit  of  tho 
work  was  great,  and  has  carried  it  into  repeated  editions.  The  descriptions  of 
Edinburgh  and  Glasgow  are  appreciative  and  racy, — the  sketch^  of  Jeffrey 
and  his  distinguished  contemporaries  are  forcibly,  yet  delicately  done, — the 
glance  at  Henry  Mackenzie  has  produced  a  sun-portrait,  so  true  is  it  in  aJl 
respectSy^Wilson,  Hogg,  Playfair,  Brewster,  Jameson,  and  Lord  Buchan  are 
portruts.  So  are  the  theatrical  etchings,  and  the  broad,  Bacbum-like  full- 
lengths  of  the  Scottish  bar,  judges  and  advocates.  Very  vivid,  too,  are  the  de- 
lineations of  leading  book-makers  and  bodcsellers, — the  cm  amore  criticisms 
upon  the  Fine  Arts  in  Scotland, — ^the  fiuthfol  account  of  Abbotsford,  and  its 


Digitized  by 


Google 


Vi  MEMOIR  OF  JOHN  GIBSON   LOCKHAET. 

minstrel  lord, — ihe  clerical  groapings  of  the  General  Assembly  of  the  Scottish 
Church, — the  anatomic  dissection  of  society  in  Edinbm^h  and  Gla^w, — and, 
in  its  strange  mixture  of  serious  feeling  and  subdued  ixm,  the  account  of  a 
Sacrament  Sabbath  in  the  country.  In  truth,  the  melange  was  very  devsr, 
and  made  its  way. 

Some  of  its  success  was  collateral  The  work  contained  several  well-engraved 
portraits,  (some,  like  Hogg's,  dashed  with  caricature,)  which  gave  it  great 
value.  Among  these  were  Professors  Leslie,  Playfeir,  and  Jameson ;  my  vener- 
able relative,  Henry  Mackenzie,  author  of  "  The  Man  of  Feeling ;"  John  Clerk, 
of  Eldin ;  JeflBrey ;  Macqueen  of  Braxfield ;  AUan,  the  painter ;  Walter  Scott ; 
Alison,  author  of  the  "  E^y  on  the  Principles  of  Taste,"  and  fieither  of  the  his- 
torian ;  the  Ettrick  Shepherd  ;  Dr.  Chahners ;  and  John  Wilson.  AH  have 
departed,  but  their  portraits,  as  they  looked  five-and-thirty  years  ago,  flourish 
greenly  and  truly  in  "  Peter's  Letters." 

Lockhart  has  informed  the  world,  in  his  Life  of  Scott,  that  these  letters  "  were 
not  wholly  the  work  of  one  hand."  This  was  necessary,  perhaps,  as  Dr.  Peter 
Morris  had  included  Lockhart  among  his  Scottish  Worthies.  We  subjoin, 
therefore,  the  character  of  himself,  (which  may  or  may  not  be  the  work  of 
another  hand,)  which  Lockhart  published  in  1819 : 

**  It  was  on  this  occasion  (a  dinner  at  Mr.  Gillies',  at  Hawthomden)  that  I 
had  an  opportunity  of  seeing  and  conversing  with  Mr.  Lockhart,  who,  as  well 
as  Mr.  Wilson,  is  supposed  to  be  one  of  the  principal  supporters  of  this  Maga- 
zine, and  so  of  judging  for  myself  concerning  an  individual  who  seems  to  have 
cared  very  little  how  many  enemies  he  raised  up  among  those  who  were  not 
personally  acquainted  with  him.  Owing  to  the  satiricfd  vein  of  some  of  th« 
writings  ascribed  to  his  pen,  most  persons  whom  I  have  heard  speak  of  him, 
seemed  to  have  been  impressed  with  the  notion,  that  the  bias  of  his  character 
inclined  towards  an  unrelenting  subversion  of  the  pretensions  of  others.  But 
I  soon  perceived  that  here  was  another  instance  of  the  incompetency  of  the 
crowd  to  form  any  rational  opinion  about  persons  of  whom  they  see  only 
partial  glimpses,  and  hear  only  distorted  representations.  I  was  not  long  in 
his  company  ere  I  was  convinced  that  those  elements  which  form  the  basis  of 
his  mind  could  never  find  their  satisfaction  in  mere  satire,  and  that  if  the  exer- 
cise of  penetration  had  afforded  no  higher  pleasure,  nor  led  to  any  more  desir- 
able result  than  that  of  detecting  error,  or  exposing  absurdity,  there  is  no 
person  who  would  sooner  have  felt  an 'inclination  to  abandon  it  in  despondency 
and  disgust  At  the  same  time,  a  strong  and  ever-wakeful  perception  of  the 
ludicrous,  is  certainly  a  prominent  feature  in  his  composition,  and  his  flow  of 
animal  spirits  enables  him  to  enjoy  it  keenly,  and  invent  it  with  success.  I 
have  seen,  however,  very  few  persons  whose  minds  are  so  much  alive  and 
awake  throughout  every  comer,  and  who  are  so  much  in  the  habit  of  trying 
and  judging  every  thing  by  the  united  tact  of  so  many  qualities  and  feelings 
ell  at  once.    But  one  meets  with  abundance  of  iodividualfl  every  day.  who 


Digitized  by 


Google 


liEliOIB  OF  JOHN   GIBSON  LOOSHABT.  Vli 

show  in  conyersatioii  a  greater  facility  of  expression,  and  a  more  constant 
activity  of  speculatiye  acuteness.  I  never  saw  Mr.  Lockhart  very  much  en- 
groaeed  with  the  desire  of  finding  language  to  convey  any  relation  of  ideas  that 
had  occurred  to  him,  or  so  enthusiastically  engaged  in  tracing  its  conse- 
quences, as  to  forget  every  thing  else.  In  regard  to  facility  of  expression,  I  do 
not  know  whether  the  study  of  languages,  which  is  a  favorite  one  with  him— • 
(indeed  I  am  told  he  understands  a  good  deal  of  almost  all  the  modern  Ian* 
g^ages,  and  is  well  skilled  in  the  ancient  ones) — I  know  not  whether  this  study 
has  any  tendency  to  increase  such  facility,  although  there  is  no  question  it 
must  help  to  improve  the  mind  in  many  important  particulars,  hy  varying 
our  modes  of  perception. 

"  His  features  are  regular,  and  quite  definite  in  their  outlines ;  his  forehead  is 
well  advanced,  and  largest,  I  think,  in  the  region  of  observation  and  percep- 
tion. Although  an  Oxonian,  and  early  imbued  with  an  admiration  for  the 
works  of  the  Stagyrite,  he  seems  rather  to  incline,  in  philosophy,  to  the  high 
Platouic  side  of  the  question,  and  to  lay  a  great  deal  of  sti'ess  on  the  investi- 
gation and  cultivation  of  the  impersonal  sentiments  of  the  human  mind — ideas 
which  his  acquaintance  with  German  literature  and  philosophy  has  probably 
much  contributed  to  strengthen.  Under  the  influence  of  that  mode  of  think- 
ing, a  turn  for  pleasantry  rather  inclines  to  exercise  itself  in  a  light  and  good- 
humored  play  of  fancy,  upon  the  incongruities  and  absurd  relations  which  are 
io  continually  presenting  themselves  in  the  external  aspect  of  the  world,  than 
to  gratify  a  sardonic  bitterness  in  exulting  over  them,  or  to  nourish  a  sour  and 
atrabilious  spirit  in  regarding  them  with  a  cherished  and  pampered  feeling  of 
delighted  disapprobation,  like  that  of  Swift  But  Mr.  Lockhart  is  a  very 
yoimg  person,  and  I  would  hope  may  soon  find  that  there  are  much  better 
things  in  literature  than  satire,  let  it  be  as  good-humored  as  you  will.  Indeed, 
his  friend  Wastle  tells  me  he  already  professes  himself  heartily  sick  of  it,  and 
has  begun  to  write,  of  late,  in  a  quite  opposite  key." 

In  August  and  September,  1819, "  Christopher  in  the  Tent  "  appeared 
to  dazzle  the  world.  The  greater  part  of  this  was  written  by  Wilson, — ^but 
Lockhart  and  others  contributed.  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  the  learned  efifu- 
dons  therein  attributed  to  Dr.  Parr,  were  written  by  Lockhart,  and  I  know 
that  whatever  is  credited  to  Buller,  Seward,  Mnllion,  or  the  Odontist,  including 
that  admirable  mock-pathetic  *' Lament  for  Captain  Paton,"  (for  which  see 
YoL  L  p.  127  of  this  edition,)  may,  with  entire  propriety,  be  affiliated  upon 
Lockhart 

As  yet,  however,  he  had  not  struck  into  the  right  vein.  In  Maga,  for  Feb- 
ruary, 1820,  appeared  "  HorsB  Hispanicse,  No.  1,"  in  which  he  published  some 
of  his  Spanish  Ballads ;  about  the  same  time,  he  gave  more  of  them  to  the 
world,  in  the  Edinburgh  Annual  Register,  for  1816.  The  freedom  of  the 
translation,  while  preserving  the  spirit  of  the  originals,  obtained  immediate 
popularity ;  — "  2Sara's  Ear-rings,''  and  "  Andalla's  Bridal,"  were  particularly 


Digitized  by 


Google 


Vlll  MEMOm  OF  JOHN   GIBSON   LOCKHABT. 

admired.  In  the  course  of  the  year,  farther  Bpecimens  were  pnolished,  and 
their  merit  was  instantly  recognised. 

Lockhart's  intimacy  with  Scott  had  aasomed  the  reality  of  warm  regard  and 
friendship.  He  became  an  invited  and  flavored  gaest  at  Abbotsford,  and  it 
was  arranged,  early  in  1820,  that  he  should  marry  Miss  Scott,  in  the  course  of 
the  coming  spring.  At  this  time  he  was  in  his  twenty-eighth  year ;  well- 
looking  ;  gifted ;  and  with  pleasing  manners.  The  lady  (Sophia  Charlotte 
Scott)  was  little  more  than  twenty.  Lockhart  s  pecuniary  means  chiefly  arose, 
at  that  time,  from  his  pen, — but  Scott  had  pretty  considerable  confidence,  no 
doubt,  in  the  capabilities  of  his  future  son-in-law.  The  marriage  took  place  in  . 
April,  1820,*  and  Lockhart  has  recorded  that  it  came  off,  more  Scoiicoy  in  the 
evening ;  "  and  adhering  on  all  such  occasions  to  ancient  modes  of  observance, 
with  the  same  punctiliousness  as  distinguished  his  worthy  father." 

In  those  days,  those  who  went  in  quest  of  Parliamentary  Reform,  were  like 
the  patriots  mentioned  in  The  Prisoner  of  Chillon, 

•*To  whom  the  goodly  earth  and  air 
Were  banned  and  barred,  forbidden  fare  ;** 

and  the  Yeomanry  were  bitter  against  the  Radicals — as  the  reformers  were 
called.  (Ten  years  later.  Reform  was  a  government  measure!)  Lockhart 
joined  the  local  cavalry,  and,  Scott  said,  was  "  a  very  good  trooper."  In  1822, 
during  the  visit  of  George  IV.  to  Scotland,  he  was  on  duty  with  his  corps, 
and  continued  to  "  play  at  soldiers,"  I  believe,  until  he  permanently  went  to 
London. 

In  August,  1820,  Lockhart  and  his  wife  commenced  a  visit  of  several  weeks 
to  Abbotsford,  and  there,  and  for  some  time  after,  he  was  busy, — for  "  Valerras, 
a  Roman  Story  of  the  First  Century,"  was  announced  in  March,  and  was 
published  in  April,  1821. 

Before  this,  a  very  painful  event  had  occurred.  Mr.  John  Scott,  author  of 
a  Visit  to  Paris  in  1 814,  was  the  original  Editor  of  the  London  Magazine^ 
which,  with  its  contributors,  had  been  severely— personally— even  coarsely 
assailed  in  Blackwood.  John  Scott  replied,  in  several  articles  of  marked  sever- 
ity, in  which  he  particularly  pointed  at  Lockhart  as  having  written  the  papers 
in  Bldchcoodf  and  of  thereby  being  engaged  in  "  a  felon  conspiracy  against  the 
dignity  of  literature."  The  last  of  tiiese  rejoinders  by  Scott  appeared  in  Decem- 
ber, 1820.  Some  weeks  after,  a  Mr.  Christie  waited  upon  Mr.  Scott,  on  the 
part  of  Lockhart,  then  in  Edinburgh,  with  a  demand  for  apology  or  satisfaction. 
John  Scott  said  that  he  did  not  understand  the  absence  of  a  principal,  in  such  a 

*  The  nsaaX  newspaper  annooncement,  which  I  have  taken  the  b'onble  to  search  for,  waa  as 
foUowi :— "  April  29, 1820,  at  Edinburgh,  by  the  Rev.  Richard  Shannon,  John  Gibson  Lockhart, 
■eq.,  advocate,  to  Sophia  Charlotte,  eldest  daofhter  of  Sir  Walter  Boott  of  Abbotsford,  Bart** 
The  marriage  of  the  Ittriok  ShepherdHook  place  one  day  before  this.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


MJ£HUIB   OF  JOHN   GIBSON   LOOKUABT.  UC 

matter.  Lockhart  then  visited  London.  John  Scott  now  declared  that  no 
gentleman  could  meet  him,  until  he  had  cleared  himself  of  the  imputation  of 
having  written  slanders  in  Blackwood  for  money  or  profit  Ix>ckhart  did  not 
recognise  Mr.  Scott's  right  to  have  such  a  disclaimer,  but  eventually  made  it. 
In  the  interim,  Giristie  had  worked  himself  into  the  position  of  a  principal, 
put  Lockhart's  casus  belli  wholly  out  of  view,  fought  a  duel  with  Scott,  at 
Chalk  Farm,  (then  the  London  scene  of  such  rencontres,)  and  killed  him. 
The  circumstance  materially  mitigated  the  tone  of  Lockhart's  future  articles  in 
Blackwood, 

Though  the  publication  of  "  Valerius''  took  place  in  April,  1821,  Blackwood 
had  no  review  of  it  until  the  following  January,  and  then  described  it  as  au  at- 
tempt to  work  fiction  on  new  ground.  It  is  the  story  of  a  sojourn  in  Rome, 
during  a  portion  of  the  reign  of  Trajan.  To  the  main  points  of  history  he 
faithfully  adhered.  The  hero,  son  of  a  Roman  officer  in  England,  becomes 
enamoured  of  a  beautiful  Christian  in  Rome,  and,  after  many  trials,  during 
which  the  heroic  damosel  nearly  sufifers  martyrdom,  succeeds  in  bearing  her 
away,  as  his  bride,  to  his  remote  insular  home.  Since  Lockhart  wrote,  many 
such  tales  have  appeared — among  them  Moore's  Epicurean,  Horace  Smith's 
Zillah,  Croly's  Salathiel,  and  Bulwer's  Last  Days  of  Pompeii — ^but  the  meed 
of  originality,  as  &r  as  English  fiction  is  concerned,  belongs  to  "  Valerius." 
Wilson's  critique  said  much  in  a  few  words  when  it  told  that  Lockhart  seemed 
as  much  at  home  in  the  '^  Eternal  City,"  as  the  author  of  Guy  Mannering  in 
Auld  Reekie — ^that  seventeen  centuries  w«re  rolled  back — that  we  heard  the 
stir  and  tumult  of  Rome. — **  Valerius  "  was  written  in  three  weeks  I 

In  January,  1822,  appeared  the  announcement  of  **  Some  Passages  of  the 
life  of  Mr.  Adam  Blair,  Minister  of  the  Gkspel  at  Crossmeikle,"  with  an  in- 
timation that  the  public  had  in  reality  to  expect  **  a  very  elegant  and  amusing 
romance,  not  unlikely  to  become  the  Scottish  Vicar  of  Wakefield" — ^the  italics 
are  not  mine.  It  was  published  in  the  following  month,  and  Adam  Blair  was 
as  unlike  our  old  friend  Dr.  Primrose  as  can  well  be  imagined.  Lockhart  had 
sounded  the  depths  of  the  passionate  heart  which  he  had  given  to  his  hero,  and 
produced  a  forcible  story  of  man's  weakness  under  temptation,  of  woman's 
seducing  and  seduction,  of  quick  remorse,  of  deep  and  public  degradation,  and, 
after  long  repentance,  of  restoration,  with  a  subdued  and  humble  spirit,  to  the 
duty  of  the  Ministry.  In  the  second  edition,  much  that  stood  too  strongly  in 
lelief  was  softened  down ;  it  r^nams,  thus  altered,  a  pamful  story,  yet  with 
much  natural  feeling  and  pathos. 

In  midsummer,  1822,  appeared  a  new  edition  of  Don  Quixote,  in  five  volumes, 
8vo,  edited  by  Lockhart,  with  copious  notes,  and  an  essay  on  the  life  and 
Writings  of  Cervantes.  This  edition  was  suggested  by  John  BaUantyne — ^who 
is  also  entitled  to  the  merit  of  having  proposed,  seven  years  before  it  appeared, 
the  annotated  and  illustrated  edition  of  the  Waverley  Novels.    Lockhart's 


Digitized  by 


Google 


%*  HEMOIR  OF  JOHH  GIBSON   LOOEHABT. 

Botes  were  copions^  occnpyiog  as  mach  as  forty  or  fifty  closely-prioted  pagei 
of  each  of  the  fiye  yolumes.  These  notes  were  full  of  historical,  literary,  and 
persoDal  anecdotes,  and  also  contained  a  further  portion  of  Lockhart's  Spanish 
Ballads.  Previous  to  this,  eame  the  annooncement  (March,  1822)  of  **  The 
Toath  of  Reginald  Dalton,"  which  was  not  published  on^  Jane,  1823,  (when 
it  came  ont  as  **  Regmakl  Dalton,'')  nor  reviewed  in  Blackwood  before  the  fol- 
lowing January.  This  story,  which  I  have  read  very  many  times,  always  struck 
me  as  singularly  beautiful  in  many  parts.  It  relates  the  adventures  of  a  youth 
at  Oxford — tempted,  erring,  yet  ever  prevented  from  all  grossneas  of  sin  by 
tiie  purity  and  depth  of  a  virtuous  and  romantic  passion,  hopeless  vntil  the 
last,  but  sustained  by  intensity  and  principle  through  many  ^aJs,  until,  at  last, 
it  is  happily  crowned  with  the  good  fortune  it  deserves.  Oxford  life  has  been 
painted,  and  wdl  painted,  before  and  since  the  appearance  of  Reginald  Dalton, 
but  never  by  a  hand  at  once  so  true  and  delicate  in  its  touch.  Not  until  I 
actually  lived  in  Oxford,  could  I  understand  the  fidelity  of  tiie  descriptions. 
Helen  Hesketh,  the  beautiful  heroine,  is  almost  too  fair  and  good  for  earth, 
lliere  is  scarcely  any  thing  more  charming,  in  the  whole  range  of  fiction, 
than  the  scene  at  Oodstone  Abbey,  where  Reginald  and  Helen  mutually 
learn,  and  confess,  that  love  has  fiUed  their  souls,  and  pervades  their  bang.  If 
the  book  were  cut  down  by  a  third,  striking  out  the  dull  phititudes  of  Xiondon 
and  Edinburgh  society,  it  would  indeed  become  a  gem. 

**  Ancient  Spanish  Ballads,  Historical  and  Romantic,  trandated  by  J.  G. 
Lockhart,  LL.B.,"  a|jpeared  early  in  1823.  The  collection  included  aU  hitherto 
published,  in  magazines,  as  well  as  in  Don  Quixote,  with  a  variety  of  fresh  ma- 
teriel There  was  a  Mr  spriiMng  of  prose,  also, — critical,  descriptive,  and 
historical.  The  ballads  proved  that  Lockhart  had  strong  masculine  energy  as 
a  poet,  moral  conception,  great  power  of  versification,  and  much  originality  of 
cxpressioD.  The  book  has  been  popular  from  its  first  i^pearance.  In  1841, 
a  very  ornate  edition  was  brought  out  by  Murray,  beautifully  printed  in  odors, 
and  profusely  ornamented  with  iUustrations  from  drawings  by  Sir  WHliam 
Allan,  David  Roberts,  William  Simson,  Henry  Warren,  C.  R  Leslie,  and  Wil- 
fiam  Harvey.  Of  this,  one  of  the  handsomest  and  most  ornate  works  ever  pub- 
Msbed  in  England,  many  thousand  copies  have  been  sold. 

''The  History  of  Matthew  Wald,"  the  last  of  Lockhart's  prose  fiction,* 
was  published  in  April,  1824.  It  is  inferior  to  his  other  productions.  The 
hero,  whose  mind  was  cast  in  a  coaree  mould,  is  his  own  biographer,  and  ex- 
hibits far  firom  a  pleasing  picture  of  himself.  There  are  some  scenes  of  great 
merit — some  touching  episodes,  also — but  the  perusal  of  the  book  leaves  an 
impleasant  sensation,  and  there  is  Jiot,  cannot  be  any  empathy  for  the  insane 
hero. 

*  **  Pmi agei  in  th«  Life  of  Gilbert  Earle,**  which  h«Te  been  Ignorftufly  attributed  to  Lock- 
bait,  were  written  by  the  late  Barrr  8t  Leger,  an  Irtihman.— If. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


MEBIOIK  OJ  lOMM  GIBBON  tOOKHAST.  Xi 

Whfle  Lockhftrt  was  writing  these  works,  he  and  his  wife  resided  at  a  cot- 
tage called  Ohie&wood,  which  they  contiimed  to  occupy  for  six  years.  It  was 
dose  to  Abbotsford,  and  perhaps  the  happiest  part  of  their  lifc  was  passed  in 
this  cahn  retreat 

In  July,  1825,  Sir  Walter  Scott,  with  his  daughter  Anne  and  Lockhart, 
visited  Irdand.  The  Great  Unknown's  reception  in,  and  passage  through,  the 
Green  Isle  was  a  sort  of  OTation,  so  great  was  his  popularity.  On  this  occft> 
•ion,  then  little  more  than  a  stripling,  I  first  saw  Scott  and  Lockhart  They 
were  aoc(Hapanied  by  Miss  Edgeworth  and  Anne  Scott  They  slept,  en  rouU, 
in  the  prosperoos  town  of  Fermoy,  in  the  south  of  Ireland,  and  Scott  was 
curious  to  learn  some  parttculars  of  John  Anderson,  a  Scotchman,  who,  thirty 
years  before,  had  found  three  mud  cabins  in  the  i^ace,  and,  ere  he  died,  saw  it  con- 
tain over  six  thoufland  inhabitants.  I  was  sent  for,  as  one  who,  ahnost  native  to 
the  place,  was  rqwted  to  possess  the  information  required.  But  the  details 
of  the  intariew,  in  which  Scott's  courtesy,  Miss  Edgewortb's  shrewdness,  and 
Lockhart's  supercilious  coldness  were  very  apparent,  do  not  bdong  to  thif 
n^id  memoir,  and  will  be  more  in  place  in  another  work.  Scott's  party  re- 
turned by  Windermere,  to  meet  Canning,  and  be  cordially  greeted  by  Wilson, 
''the  Adnural  of  the  I^kes.'' 

William  GifiR>rd,  who  had  conducted  the  Quarterly  Revieuj,  from  its  estab- 
lishment in  1809,  was  compelled,  by  ill  health,  to  retire  in  1824.  His  place 
was  filled  up  by  the  present  Sir  John  T.  Coleridge,  now  one  of  the  Judges  of 
the  Court  of  Queen's  Bench,  in  London,  whose  bar-practice  so  n^idly  increased, 
at  the  time,  as  to  cause  him  to  resign  the  editorship,  after  holding  it  for  a  yeac 
After  considerable  doubt  and  some  delay,  the  situation  was  offered  to  Mr. 
Lockhart  At  this  time,  he  was  only  thirty-four  years  old,  and,  notwithstand- 
ing his  literary  celebrity,  probably  owed  the  appointment  to  his  relationship 
to  Scott  It  was  about  the  highest  position  that  a  man  of  letters  could  hold 
in  FnglftJ^,  and  the  salary,  indepoident  of  separate  and  additional  payment 
for  each  of  his  own  articles,  has  been  understood  to  be  not  less  than  £1500  a 
year. 

Bemoving  to  London,  with  his  wife  and  fiunily,  Lockhart  took  up  his  resi- 
dence in  a  stately  mansion,  in  Sussex  Place,  Begcnt's  Park.  But  though 
worldly  proqierity  was  his,  the  common  infliction  of  domestic  sorrow  awaited 
him.  John  Hugh  Lockhart,  his  eldest  son,  bom  at  Chie&wood,  in  February, 
1821,  never  enjoyed  good  health.  He  was  affectionate  and  intelligent,  (it  ^as 
to  him,  as  ""  Hugh  Little^ohn,  Esq.,"  that  Scott  dedicated  \h&  Tales  of  a 
Grandfiither,)  but  it  often  happens  that  the  best  go  earliest — 

"All  that's  bright  roost  fade. 

The  brigfateft  still  the  fleetest; 
All  thaf  8  sweet  was  made 
But  to  be  lost  when  sweetest** 


Digitized  by 


Google 


Xll  MEMOIB  OF  JOHN  GIBSON   LOOKHABT. 

After  nmch  soflferiDg,  this  child  of  love,  fear,  and  promise  died  on  the  15th 
December,  1831.  His  brother,  Walter  Scott  Lockhart,  who  lived  to  years  of 
manhood,  and  was  thoughtless  and  dissipated,  died  not  long  ago.  One 
daughter,  married  to  Mr.  Hope,  is  the  sole  soryiving  fruit  of  Lockhart's  mar- 
riage, and  her  yonthfol  son,  who  has  obtained  the  Royal  permission  to  assume 
the  surname  of  Scott,  is  the  direct  lineal  successor  of  "  the  Great  Unknown." 
Mr.  Hope  resides  at  Abbotsford,  now  the  property  of  his  wife. 

From  this  digression,  it  is  proper  to  return  to  Lockhart's  becoming  Editor 
of  the  Quarterly y  in  1826.  Applying  himself,  with  energy  and  perseverance, 
to  the  duties  of  his  new  occupation,  and  speedily  showing  himself  adequate  to 
all  its  requirements,  he  proceeded  with  a  "  Life  of  Bums,'  upon  which  he  had 
been  for  some  time  engaged ; — ^indeed,  it  had  been  announced,  early  in  1825, 
as  one  of  the  earliest  volumes  of  "  Constable's  Miscellany" — a  magnificent 
undertaking,  had  it  been  carried  out  by  its  sanguine  and  able  projector.  It 
appeared  in  that  collection,  at  a  cheap  price,  in  April,  1828,  and  the  sale  was 
immense.  It  has  repeatedly  been  republished,  in  more  expensive  forms,  and 
continues  to  stand  high  in  the  ranks  of  modem  biography. 

Lockhart  did  ample  justice,  in  his  life  of  Bums,  to  the  Man  as  well  as  the 
Poet — to  the  manliness  of  his  character  and  the  vigor  of  his  genius.  His 
portraiture  of  Bums  showed  the  shades  as  well  as  the  lights — ^but  all  was  done 
in  a  benignant  spirit  The  events  of  his  brief  and  brilliant  career  were  care- 
fully detailed,  and  a  fine  spirit  of  humanity — which  was  unexpected  in  Lock- 
hart— ^breatlied  serious  life  into  the  whole  production.  I  recollect  no  English 
biography  which  was  more  generally  satisfactory  than  this. 

In  October,  1828,  when  "  Murray's  Family  Library"  was  projected,  Lock- 
hart was  requested  to  write  a  Life  of  Napoleon  Bonaparte,  but  scrupled  to 
undertake,  in  two  volumes,  what  Scott  had  done  in  nine.  Scott  strongly 
urged  him  to  the  work,  which  was  announced,  in  December,  1828,  as  the 
"  Personal  History  of  Napoleon  Bonaparte,"  but  did  not  appear  until  June, 
1829,  with  steel  portraits  from  French  engravings  and  several  clever  wood- 
cuts from  Cruikshank's  designs.  It  was  the  first  issue  of  the  "  Family  Library," 
and,  from  its  clearness  of  narrative,  general  impartiality,  handsome  typography 
good  illustrations,  and  low  price,  obtained  a  large  sale.  At  first,  it  was 
generally  attributed  to  Croker,  (a  mystification  commenced  in  The  Noctes,) 
but  the  authorship  has  long  been  clauned  for  and  by  Lockhart  It  was  while 
discussing  the  merits  of  this  work,  that  Wilson  said  of  Napoleon,  "  Now, 
(lod  pity  us,  he  sleeps  sound  beneath  a  thousand  weight  of  granite,  and  shame 
on  tlie  mortal  who  dares  deny  that  he  was  the  greatest  man  of  the  last  thou- 
sand years." 

While  Scott  lived,  Lockhart  and  his  wife*  visited  Scotland  almost  every  year 

*  Her«  I  beg  to  protot t,  with  all  loleisnltj,  agalnii  raoh  a  phrase  ai  **  Ifr.  So-and-so  and  hie 
tody.**    What  word  4$  th«r«,  what  word  iyuffht  there  to  be,  more  bomelj  and  simple  than 


Digitized  by 


Google 


MEMOIR  OF  JOHK  GIBSOK  LOOEHABT.  XIU 

They  were  at  Abbotsford  lo  September,  1831,  when  it  was  resolved  that  Scott 
shoald  spend  the  winter  in  Italy.  Mrs.  Lockhart  returned  to  London  some 
days  in  advance  of  her  &ther,  to  make  saitable  preparations  for  his  reception 
at  her  honse,  and  Lockhart  accompanied  him  a  few  days  later.  Of  all  that 
passed  in  London  and  Portsmouth,  until  Scott  quitted  England,  a  detailed  and 
interesting  account  has  been  given  in  Lockhart's  Life  of  Scott  There,  too, 
will  be  found  a  touching  record — apathetic  in  its  sublime  simplicity — of  the  last 
days  of  tiie  **  Ariosto  of  the  North,"  ending  with  his  death,  at  Abbotsford,  in 
the  presence  of  all  his  children — on  the  21st  September,  1832 ;  "  a  beautiful  day 
— so  warm,  that  every  window  was  wide  open — and  so  perfectly  still,  that  the 
sound  of  all  others  most  delicious  to  his  ear,  the  gentle  ripple  of  the  Tweed 
over  its  pebbles,  was  distinctly  audible  as  we  knelt  around  the  bed,  and  his 
eldest  son  kissed  and  closed  his  eyes." 

Lockhart's  connection  with  Blackwood  did  not  wholly  cease  when  he  became 
Editor  of  the  Quarterly,  I  know  that  he  wrote  for  it  then,  for,  in  my  own  col- 
lection of  Autographs,  I  have  a  letter,  dated  July  16, 1832,  addressed  to  Mr. 
Wright,  editor  of  Murray's  collective  and  annotated  edition  of  Byron's  poems, 
then  in  course  of  publication,  in  which  Lockhart  says,  "  I  have  none  of  the 
sfteets  by  me,  and  can't  possibly  write  half  a  dozen  reviews  without  materiel, 
but  you  win  find  what  I  could  do  in  Blackwood  for  this  month  (which,  however, 
is  said  only  to  yourself).  Meantime  get  Dr.  Maginn  to  draw  up  a  little  article 
for  Jerdan,  on  the  model  of  mine  on  Yol.  YII.,  and  let  Murray  ask  Hook  to 
gi\*e  my  pre&ce  to  the  new  vol.  in  BvU^  with  the  song  on  the  Cadiz  Ladies." 

It  happens,  however,  that  tiiere  is  no  mention  of  Byron  in  Blackwood  for 
July,  1832.  But  in  The  Noctbs,  No.  LXII.,  for  September,  1832,  the  hand 
of  Lockhart  is  visible.  No  doubt  he  furnished  the  concluding  portion  of  that 
Noctes,  (VoL  V.  pp.  113-118  of  the  present  edition,)  in  which  the  new  issue 
of  Byron  was  abundantly  lauded,  with  special  reference  to  '*  that  charming 
ditty  on  the  Girl  of  Cadiz,  which  Byron  origmally  designed  to  fill  the  place 
now  occupied  by  a  dismal  concern," — ^namely,  the  lugubrious  lyric  To  Inez, 
which  now  follows  the  eighty-fourth  stanza  of  the  first  Canto  of  Childe  Harold. 

At  the  close  of  1836,  appeared  the  first  volume  of ''  Memoirs  of  the  life  of 
Sir  Walter  Scott,  Bart,  by  J.  G.  Lockhart,  Esq.,  his  Literary  Executor." 
This  work  was  completed  within  two  years,  and  a  revised  and  richly  illustrated 

Wife?  Jacob,  I  am  certain,  neyer  ipoke  of  Rachel  ai  bif  lady  I  T  recollect  an  anecdote  on 
this  lobject.  Tbe  wife  of  an  Knfi^isb  Biabop  drore  to  llowell  and  James's,  in  Regent  street, 
and  asked  the  yonng  man,  who  came  out  to  receiye  her,  to  bring  a  box  of  glores  to  her  car- 
riage, that  she  might  make  her  selection  without  alighting.  The  young  man  said  that,  such 
delicate  articles  being  liable  to  iujury  from  dust  and  sunshine,  it  was  a  prohibitory  rule  of 
the  house  that  they  must  not  be  taken  into  the  street.  "  Do  you  know  who  I  am?*'  asked 
the  irritated  ^ama.  ^  I  hare  not  that  honor,  Maam,**  was  the  cItU  reply.  Summoning  up  a 
look  of  immense  dignity,  she  impressively  said,  "  Toung  man,  I  am  the  Bishop  of  Worcester's 
tody.**  Making  her  a  bow,  and  still  speaking  with  apparent  respect,  he  replied,  "  Maam,  I 
eoold  no!  break  through  a  rule  of  the  house— no,  not  even  if  yon  were  the  Bishop's  v>{fb  /**  "^fL 


Digitized  by 


Google 


XIT  MEMOm  OF  JOHV  OIB80V  LOOKHAST. 

edition  immediotdy  followed.  It  is  ]K)t  neceasaiy  to  give  parCicalan  respecting 
a  work  so  widely  known  and  so  generally  liked.  To  say  that  its  place  is  next 
to,  and  certainly  not  lower  than,  Boswell's  Johnson,  is  to  say  no  more  than  the 
troth.  BoeweU  devotes  himself  more  particnlarly  to  what  may  be  called  the 
personality  of  his  hero ;  Lockhart  includes  a  variety  of  particnJara  relative  to 
Scott's  contemp(»rarie8.  The  two  biographies,  in  &ct,  contain  a  graphic  history 
of  British  literature  during  the  greater  part  of  the  Georgian  era — firom  the 
commencement  of  Johnson's  career,  to  the  dose  of  Scott's. 

The  defect  of  Lodchart's  book  is  that  he  devotes  too  nnoh  space  to  a  dis- 
cussion  of  the  connection  between  Scott  and  the  Ballantynes.  The  tone  and 
temper  of  this  discussion  are  equally  out  of  keeping  with  the  biography  and  its 
author's  intention  of  exhibiting  Scott  in  a  £ivorable  light  The  executors  of 
James  Ballantyne  replied,  in  a  voluminous  pamphlet,  the  object  of  which  was 
to  show  that  Ballantyne  was  more  sinned  against  tiian  sinning.  Lockhart 
retorted,  in  a  bitter  publication  called  "  The  Ballantyne  Humbug  Handled." 
It  was  contemptuous  and  personal  Then  followed  a  rejoinder,  going  closely 
bto  detail,  in  which  they  showed  how  constantly  Scott  used  to  draw  on 
Ballantyne  for  money,  and  how  improvident  he  was.  To  this  there  was  no 
rq)ly,  but  the  discussion,  which  was  provoked  by  Lockhart's  aspennons,  did  not 
tend  to  exalt  Scott  in  public  estimation. 

It  is  singular  (and  I  would  scarcely  have  credited  it  had  I  not  taken  the 
trouble  of  ascertaining  the  focts  by  close  examination)  that  no  notice  of 
Lockhart's  life  of  Scott  ever  appeared  in  Blackwood^ s  Magazine, 

While  the  book  was  being  published,  Mrs.  Lockhart  died^ — ^May  17, 1837. 
In  the  fifth  volume,  (which  appeared  in  October,  1837,)  while  alluding  to  the 
earlier  years  of  his  wedded  life  at  Ohiefewood,  and  the  friends  who  witnessed 
it,  Lockhart  says,  ^  Death  has  laid  a  heavy  hand  upon  that  circle— as  happy 
a  circle  as  I  bdieve  ever  met  Bright  eyes  now  closed  in  dust,  gay  voices  for 
ever  sOenced,  seem  to  haunt  me  as  I  write.  With  three  exceptions,  they  are 
all  gone.  Even  since  the  last  of  these  volumes  was  finished,  she  whom  I  may 
now  sadly  record  as,  next  to  Sir  Walter  Scott  himself,  the  chief  ornament  and 
delight  at  all  those  simple  meetings — die  to  whose  love  I  owed  my  own  place 
in  them — Scott's  ddest  daughter,  the  one  of  all  his  children  who  in  counte- 
nance, mind,  and  manners,  most  resembled  himself,  and  who  indeed  was  as  lik 
him  in  all  things  as  a  gentle  and  innocent  woman  can  ever  be  to  a  great  man 
deeply  tried  and  skilled  in  the  struggles  and  perplexities  of  active  life— die, 
too,  is  no  more.'' 

The  life  of  Scott  was  the  last  of  Lockhart's  published  works.*  It  is  prob- 
able that  a  selection  from  his  articles  in  the  Qttarterly  will  appear,  to  match 
those  of  Sydney  Smith,  Jeffiey,  Macaulay,  Mackintosh,  Hamilton,  and  others. 

*  He  wibta^tntty  made  mn  tbridgment  of  it.  In  on«  Tolome,  wlUoh  !•  bov  Adopted,  as  « 
readiiv-^Mk,  in  maiv  of  tho  loboolf  ia  floottaod  and  Bngland.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


MSICOIB  OF  JOBS  OIBBCHf  LOOEHABT.  XT 

It  is  known,  abo,  that  he  has  writtei  a  woik  on  the  literaiy  History  of  hit 
Own  Time,  (chiefly  antobiogn^hical,)  which  will  not  appear  untQ  after  hif 
death.  Thm  is  some  expectation,  aJso,  that  he  will  assist  in  the  prodnction 
of  a  bi(^praphy  ofFroksBor  Wilson. 

Failing  health  compelled  him,  in  the  antomn  of  1853,  to  terminate  his  edi» 
torial  connection  with  the  Quarterly  Riview,  and  pass  the  winter  in  the  south 
of  Europe.  He  retorned  to  London,  in  the  epring  of  1854.  It  is  understood 
that  he  has  obtained  ao  independence  by  the  pnident  application  of  his  pecu- 
niary gains  firom  literature.  He  also  is  Auditor  of  the  Dochy  of  Ck>mwaU — 
a  lif&«ppointmmit,  the  duties  of  which  are  nearly  nominal,  while  the  salary 
has  been  yariously  stated  at  from  £300  to  £1500  a  year.  It  is  nearer  the 
latter  than  the  former  amount 

There  is  no  necessity  here  for  examining  into  the  general  literary  character 
and  merits  of  Mr.  Lo<^hart.  In  Biaekujood*s  Magazim  his  contributions  were 
marked  by  vigor,  sarcasm,  and  personality.  Time,  as  it  advanced,  brought 
more  serious  thought  and  more  sober  judgment  The  fexX  of  his  having  con* 
ducted  the  QuarUrhf  Reviewt  for  seven-and-twenty  years,  with  snooess,  suffi- 
ciently attests  his  ability.     . 

Those  who  best  knew  him  have  spoken  cordially  and  grateftiUy  of  his  kindly 
nature — among  these  were  Hogg,  Moore,  Sterling,  and  Haydon.  A  certain 
hauteur  of  manner,  which  sometimes  was  even  supercilious,  has  contributed  to 
strengthen  the  opinion  that  he  was  odd,  proud,  and  distant  But  he  has  been 
afflicted  with  deafiiess  for  many  yearsy— an  ailment  which  naturally  checks  the 
geniality  of  one's  nature,  by  preventmg  fiuniliar  companionship.*  His  most 
determined  assailants,  at  hooie  and  abroad,  have  been  the  small  fry  of  Uteratif 
whcmi  his  casual  touch  has  almost  brushed  out  of  exislenoew 

From  them  I  turn  to  a  toss  saspicions  and  more  impartial  witness.  The  lata 
Bev.  Edmund  D.  Griffin,  of  New-York,  visited  England  in  1829,  and  hw  re- 
corded (too  bri^y)  Us  kqircflBioDB  (^  tlie  authors  wlxRn  he  met  in  London. 
BU  *<Pencil]mgs"  contafai  the  foDowing,— '^  To  Moore,  LocUiart  oAfs  & 
strong  and  singular  contrast  Tall,  and  slightly,  but  d^gantly  formed,  his  bead 
possesses  the  noble  contour,  the  precision  and  harmony  of  outline,  which  distin- 
guish clasnc  sculpture.  It  possesses,  too,  a  striking  eflfect  of  color,  in  a  com- 
plexion pale  yet  pure,  and  hair  as  bhu^  as  the  raven's  wing.  Though  his 
countenance  is  youthful,  (he  seems  scarce  more  than  thirty,)  yet  I  should  desig- 
nate reflection  as  the  prominent,  combined  expresaicm  of  that  broad,  white  fore- 
head ;  those  arched  vdA  pencilled  brows ;  those  retired,  yet  foil,  dark  eyes ;  the 
accurately  chisdled  nose ;  and  oooq[>re8Bed,  though  curved  lips.    His  &ce  is 

*  Before  he  beeMoe  deaf,  Loekhart  bad  mn  Idea  of  entering  Into  political  Ufb,  and  actoaUy 
waa  a  candidate,  at  one  time,  (thongh  he  neyer  proceeded  in  the  conteat,)  for  the  parliamentary 
repr«eentation  of  the  boroo^  of  Weymouth.  He  declared  hia  prlnclplea  to  be  tlioee  of  extreme 
Torjtam.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


XVI  MEMOIB  OF  JOHN   GIBSON   LOCKHAKT. 

too  tbixii  perhaps,  for  mere  beauty ;  but  this  defect  heightens  its  intellectnal 
chaiacter." 

To  this  personal  description,  may  suitably  be  appended  Mi.  GrifSn's  analy- 
sis of  his  conversation.  He  says  :  "  Mr.  Lockhart  meantime,  thoogh  he  seemed 
to  enjoy  the  pleasantries  of  others,  contributed  none  of  his  own.  Whatever 
he  did  say  was  in  a  Scottish  accent,  and  exhibited  strong  sense  and  extensive 
reading.  Mr.  Washington  Irving  se^ns  to  be  one  of  those  men,  who,  like  Ad- 
dison, have  plenty  of  gold  in  their  pockets,  but  are  almost  destitute  of  ready 
change.  His  reserve,  however,  is  of  a  strikingly  different  character  from  that 
of  the  Editor  of  the  Quarterly.  The  one  appears  the  reserve  of  sensibility,  the 
other  that  of  thought  The  taste  of  the  one  leads  him  apparently  to  examine 
the  suggestions  of  his  own  mind  with  such  an  over  scrupulosity,  that  he  seldom 
gives  them  utterance.  The  reflection  of  the  other  is  occupied  in  weighing  the 
sentiments  expressed,  and  separating  the  false  from  liie  true.  Mr.  Irving  is 
mild  and  bland,  even  anxious  to  please.  Mr.  Lockhart  is  abstracted  and  cold, 
almost  indifferent" 

The  sketch  of  Mr.  Lockhart  which  illustrates  this  volume,  was  executed  by 
Daniel  Maclise,  R.  A.,  (under  the  nomme  de  crayon  of  A.  Croquis,)  and  ap- 
peared, in  August,  1830,  in  Eraser's  Magazine,  as  the  third  of  the  "  Gallery  of 
Illustrious  Literary  Characters,"  which,  with  Maginn's  racy  descriptions,  never 
exceeding  a  page,  and  always  struck  off  at  a  moment's  notice,  formed  a  very 
attractive  feature  in  that  periodical,  for  many  years.  It  represents  him  busily 
smoking  his  sempiternal  cigar — ^the  use  of  tobacco,  in  that  shape,  being  one  of 
Lockhart's  small  vices. 

In  the  popular  edition  of  his  life  of  Scott,  (Edinburgh,  1842,  in  large  8vo,) 
is  a  full-length  which  may  be  taken  as  authentic,  being  issued  by  himselfl  It 
shows  the  accuracy  of  Mr.  Griffin's  above-quoted  description.  In  the  very  in- 
teresting picture  by  Faed,  (from  which  a  fine  engraving  has  lately  been  issued 
here,)  which  exhibits  Sir  Walter  Scott  and  his  Friends,  in  1825,  a  portrait  of 
Lockhart  occupies  the  centre,  between  Orabbe  and  Wordsworth,  and  is  a 
striking  and  characteristic  likeness. 


Mr.  Lockhart^s  only  surviving  lineal  descendant  is  his  grand-daughter, 
bom  in  1852,  only  child  of  Charlotte  Harriet  Jane  Lockhart  and  her  hus- 
band, James  Robert  Hope,  barrister,  now  of  Abbotsford.  This  child  is 
the  last  of  Sir  Walter  Scott's  family.  Mr.  Lockhart  returned  to  England 
early  in  1854,  and  passed  the  summer  with  Mrs.  Hope,  his  daughter,  at 
Abbotsford,  where  he  died  November  25th,  1854,  in  the  sixty-first  year  of 
his  age. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


^ottt»  9imltto»lunut. 


No.  XXXV.-JANUARY,  1828. 

SCENE    I. —  Picardy    Place —  Southeast    Drawing    Room —  Th$ 
Shepherd  Solus, 

Shepherd, — Perfeo'  enchantment!  Ae  single  material  ooal  fire 
multiplied  by  mirrors  into  a  score  of  unsubstantial  reflections,  ilka 
image  bumin'  awa'  as  brichtly  up  its  ain  shadowy  chimley,  as  the 
original  Prototeep !  Only  ye  dinna  hear  the  phantom-fires  murmur- 
ing about  the  bars — their  flickering  tongues  are  a'  silent — they 
might  seem  to  reek  at  a  puflT  o'  the  Prototeep, — but  sic  seemin' 
wadna  dim  the  atmosphere  o'  this  splendid  Saloon.  The  refraction 
and  reflection  o*  light's  a  beautifu'  mystery,  and  I  wus  I  understood 
the  sceence  o'  optics.  And  yet  aiblins  it's  better  no — I  mightna 
then  wi'  sic  a  shudder  o'  instantawneous  delicht,  naething  short  o* 
religion,  glower  upon  the  rainbow,  the  appisirition  o'  the  storm.  Let 
Pheelosophers  ken  causes — Poets  effecks.  Ye  canna  ca'  him  an 
ignorawmus  that  kens  effecks — and  then  in  the  moral  world,  which 
belongs  to  men  o'  genius  like  Me  and  Bums,  there's  for  the  maist 
part  a  confused  but  no  an  obscure  notion  o'  causes  accompanying 
the  knowledge  o'  effecks— difficult  to  express  formally,  like  a 
preacher  in  his  poopit,  or  a  professor  in  his  chair,  but  coloring  the 
poetry  o'  effecks  wi'  the  tinge  o'  the  pheelosophy  o'  causes,  sae  that 
the  reader  alloos  that  reason  and  imagination  are  ane,  and  that  there's 
nae  truth  like  fiction.  O,  ye  bit  bonny  bricht  burning  fires,  there's 
only  ane  amang  ye  a'  that  gics  ony  heat !  A'  the  rest's  but  delusion 
— just  as  when  the  evening  star  lets  loose  her  locks  to  the  dews 
high  up  in  heaven,  every  pool  amang  the  mountains  has  its  Eidolon, 
sae  that  the  earth  seems  strewn  with  stars,  yet  a'  the  while  there's 
in  reality  but  ae  star,  and  her  name  is  Venus,  the  delicht  o'  gods 
and  men  and  universal  natur.  Ma  faith,  you're  a  maist  magnificent 
time-piece,  towerin'  there  on  the  mantel,  mair  like  a  palace  wi'  thae 
ivory  pillars,  or  the  vera  temple  o*  Solomon !  To  what  a  heicht 
man  has  carried  the  mechanical  airts — till  they  become  imaginative  ! 
There's  poetry  in  that  portal — mercy  on  us,  twa  figures  comin'  out, 
haun  in  haun,  frae  the  interior  o'  the  building  intill  the  open  air. 
Vol.  in.-2 


Digitized  by 


Google 


2  KOCrnSS  AHfiBOSIANiB. 

apparelled  like  wee  bit  Christians,  yet  nae  bigger  than  fairies. 
Weel,  that's  beats  a' — first  the  tane  and  then  the  tither,  wi'  its  tiny 
siller  rod,  seemin*  to  strike  the  chimes  on  a  sheet  o'  tinsel — and  then 
afT  and  awa  in  amang  the  ticks  o'  the  clock-wark  !  Puir  creturs, 
with  a'  their  fantastic  friskiness,  they  maun  lead  a  slavish  life,  up 
and  out  to  their  wark,  every  hour  o'  the  day  and  nicht.  Sabbaths  and 
a',  sae  that  they  haena  time  even  to  finish  a  dream.  That's  waur 
than  human  life  itsell ;  for  the  wee  midshipman  in  a  man- o'- war  is 
aye  allooed  four  hours'  sleep  at  a  streatch,  and  mair  than  that  is  the 
lot  o'  the  puirest  herd  callant,  wha,  haein  nae  pawrents,  is  glad  to 
sair  a  hard  master,  withouten  ony  wage — a  plaid,  parritch,*  and  a 
cauff-bed.f  Mony,  certes,  is  the  curious  contrivance  for  notin'  time  f 
The  hour-glass — to  my  mind,  the  maist  impressive,  perhaps,  o'  them 
a' — as  ye  see  the  sand  perpetually  dreep^ireepin  awa'  momentarily 
— and  then  a'  dune  just  like  life.  Then,  wi'  a  touch  o'  the  haun,  or 
whawmle  in  which  there's  aye  something  baith  o'  feelin'  and  o' 
thocht,  there  begins  anither  era,  or  epoch  of  an  hour,  during  which 
one  o'  your  ain  bairns,  wha  has  been  lang  in  a  decline,  and  visited 
by  the  doctor  only  when  he's  been  at  ony  rate  passin'  by,  gies  a 
groanlike  sich,  and  ye  ken  in  a  moment  that  he's  dead^-or  an  earth- 
quake tumbles  down  Lisbon,  or  some  city  in  Calabria,  while  a'  the 
folk,  men,  women,  and  children,  fall  down  on  their  knees,  or  are 
crushed  aiblinsi  by  falling  churches.  **The  dial-stane  aged  and 
green," — ane  o'  Camrael's  fine  lines !  Houses  change  families,  not 
only  at  Michaelmas,  but  often  on  a  sudden  summons  frae  death, 
there  is  a  general  flitting,  awa  a'thegither  frae  this  side  o'  the  kintra, 
nane  o'  the  neebors  ken  whare ;  and  sae,  ye  see,  dial-stanes  get 
green,  for  there  are  nae  bairn's  hauns  to  pick  aff  the  moss,  and  it's  no 
muckle  that  the  Robin  Redbreast  taks  for  his  nest  or  the  Kitty 
Wren.  It's  aden  been  a  mournfu'  thocht  wi'  me,  that  o'  a'  the  dial- 
stanes  I  ever  saw,  staunin'  in  a  sort  o'  circle  in  the  middle  o'  a  gar- 
den, or  in  a  nyeuck  o'  grun§  that  might  ance  hae  been  a  garden,  just 
as  you  gang  in  or  out  o'  the  village,  or  in  a  kirk-yard,  there  was 
aye  something  wrang  wi'  them,  either  wi'  the  finger  or  the  face,  sae 
that  Time  laughed  at  his  ain  altar,  and  gied  it  a  kick  in  the  bygauo, 
till  it  begood  to  hang  a'  to  the  tae-side  like  a  negleckit  tombstane 
ower  the  banes  o'  some  ane  or  ither  buried  lang  afi>re  the  Covenant. 
Isna  that  a  fiddle  on  the  brace-piece?  Let's  hawnle  her.  Ay,  just 
like  a'  the  lave| — ae  string  wantin' — and  something  or  ither  wrang 
wi'  twa  or  three  pegs — sae,  that  when  ye  skrew  up,  they'll  no  haud 
the  grip.  N  e'ertheless,  I'll  play  my  sell  a  Ut  tune.  Got,  Ae's  no 
an  ill  fiddle— hut  some  folk  can  bring  music  out  o'  a  bootjack. 

nook  of  gTouDd.    ||  Lav^—naX. — M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


THB  shepherd's  SOKG. 


Pm  to  wake  the  ewet  at  night,  An'Aimie's  to  gang  wl'     me,  O.  Ill  wake  the  ewes  mj 


night  aboot.    Bat  ne'er  wi'  ane  so  sau-cy,  O ;  Nor  sit  mj  lane  the  lee-lang  night, Wi* 


sio   asoom-fti'      las-sie^O. 


I 


fcrft 


iUiJl^^lAj 


ril   no  wake,  I'll  no  wake,  111  no 


wake  wi> 


A 


i 


^5zi 


-V:-t/- 


HrZ-^ 


0      0      0 


■0—0' 


^^ 


An  -  nie,  O,  Nor  sit  my  lane  o*er  night  wi*  ane  Sae  thniward*  an*  an  -  can-nie,  O 
Dear  son,  be  wfse  an*  warie, 

But  never  be  aomazilj,  O, 
Fye  heard  700  tell  another  tale 

O'  jooDg  an'  oharmiDg  Aonie,  O. 
The  ewes  ye  wake  are  &ir  enough. 

Upon  the  brae  sae  bonny,  0 ; 
But  the  laird  himsell  wad  gie  them  a'. 

To  wake  the  night  wF  Annie,  O. 
Hell  DO  wake,  <fec 

I  tauld  ye  ear^.f  I  tauld  ye  late. 

That  lassie  wad  trepan  ye,  O, 
In'  ilka  word  ye  boud  to  say. 

When  left  your  bne  wi'  Annie,  O. 
TaV  my  advice  this  night  for  ance, 

Or  beauty's  tongue  will  ban  ye,  0, 
An'  sey  your  leel  auld  mother's  dceel 

Ayont  the  moor  wi'  Annie  O. 
Hell  no  wake,  <&c 

The  night  it  was  a  simmer  night, 

An'  O  the  glen  was  Innely,  O, 
For  just  ao  stemie's  eowden  ee 

Peep'd  o'er  the  hill  serenely,  0. 
The  twa  are  in  the  flow'ry  heath, 

Ayont  the  moor  sae  flow'ry,  O, 
An'  but  ae  plaid  atween  them  baith. 

An'  wasna  that  right  dowy,  O I 
He  maun  wake,  ^. 

*  Tkraw&rd  an*  «iK««iii«,~oron-gTained  and  daageroa*.    t  £cr\— «arly.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


4  KOOTES  A^SEBOBIANM. 

Neist  morning  at  his  mother's  knee, 

He  bless'd  ner  love  unfeign'dlyi  O; 
An'  aye  the  tear  fell  frae  his  ee, 

An  aye  he  clasp'd  her  kindly,  O. 
Of  a'  my  griefe,  IVe  got  amends, 
Up  in  yon  glen  sae  grassy,  O. 
A  woman  only  woman  kens ; 
Your  skill  has  won  my  lassie.  O. 

I'll  aye  wake,  111  aye  wake, 
m  aye  wake  wi'  Annie,  O. 
m  ne'er  again  keep  w^e  wi'  ane 
Sae  sweety  sae  kind,  an'  caunie,  O. 

Vm  no  in  bad  vice  the  nicht — and  oh !  but  the  saloon's  a  gran'  ha' 
for  singin' !  Here's  your  health,  and  sang,  sir.  Dog  on't,  if  I  didna 
believe  for  a  minute  that  your  Image  was  anither  Man !  I  didna 
a'thegither  just  like  this  room,  for  it*s  getting  unco  like  a  Pandemo- 
nium. It  would  be  a  fearsome  room  to  get  fou  in — for  then  you 
would  sit  glowerin'  in  the  middle  o'  forty  fires,  and  yet  fear  that 
you  were  nae  Salamander.  You  wud  be  frichtened  to  stir,  in  case 
you  either  walked  intil  the  real  ribs,  or  gaed  crash  through  a  lookin' 
glass  thinken't  the  'trance.  I'm  beginniu'  to  get  a  wee  dizzy — sae 
let  me  sit  down  on  this  settee.  Oh  !  Wow  but  this  is  a  sonsie  sofa ! 
It  wad  do  brawly  for  a  honeymoon.  It's  aneugh  o'  itsell  to  gar  a 
man  fa'  in  love  wi'  he  disna  ken  wha — or  the  ugliest  woman  o*  a' 
his  hail  acquaintance.  I  declare  that  I  dinna  ken  whether  I'm  sittin' 
or  stannin',  or  lyin',  or  hangin'  in  air,  or  dookin'  in  warm  water. 
The  leanest  o'  human  kind  wud  fin'  itsell  saft  and  plump,  on,  or  rather 
in,  sic  a  settee,  for  there's  nae  kennin'  the  seat  frae  the  thing  sittin', 
and  ane's  amalgamated,  to  use  a  chemical  word,  corporeally  wi'  the 
cushions,  and  part  and  parcel  o'  the  fringed  furniture  o'  a  room  fit 
to  be  the  Sanctum  Sanctorum  o'  the  Spirit  o'  Sardanapalus  after 
Apotheosis.  Sae  intense  is  the  luxury,  that  it  gars  me  unawares 
use  lang-nebbed  classical  words,  in  preference  to  my  mither  tongue, 
which  seems  ower  puir-like  and  impovereeshed  for  gien  adequate 
expression  to  a  voluptuousness  that  laps  my  spirit  in  an  Oriental 
Elysium.  A  doubled  rose-leaf  would  be  felt  uneasily  below  my 
limbs  the  noo— yet  I  wud  be  ower  steeped  in  luxurious  laziness  to 
allow  mysell  even  to  be  lifted  up  by  the  saft  fingers,  and  hauns,  and 
arms,  and  shouthers,  o'  a  train  o'  virgins,  till  the  loveliest  o'  them  a' 
micht  redd  the  bed,  blawin'  awa  the  disturbin'  rose-leaf  wi'  her 
breath,  and  then  commanding,  with  her  dewy  eyne,  her  nymphs  to 
replace  the  Shepherd  midst  the  down,  and  sing  him  asleep  with  their 
choral  vespers.  Thochts  gang  by  the  rule  o'  contrairies — that's  cer- 
tain sure — or,  what  could  mak  me  think  the  noo  o'  a  hard-bottomed 
kitchen-chayre,  deep-worn,  sliddery,  ower  wee,  the  crazy  back  bent 
in  against  the  nape  o'  my  neck,  and  a'  the  fower  legs  o'  different 


Digitized  by 


Google 


A  BBEAM  OF  YOFIH.  § 

Btaturs,  ane  o'  the  hint  anes  fit  for  a  creepie,  tke  tither  a  broken 
besom^stiok,  for  a  makshifl,  4ntil  a  hole  far  ower  big ;  the  foreanea 
like  them  X)*  a  mawkin  *  unco  short  for  sic  lang  hint  anes,  the  tane 
stickin'  out  sturdily  in  a  wrang  direction,  and  for  ever  treddin'  on 
folk's  taes — the  tither  constantly  crackin'  frae  some  cause  nae  caN 
penter  could  ever  fin'  out,  and  if  you  sae  muckle  as  mooved,  dis- 
turbin'  the  reading  o'  the  chapter.  That  chayre  used  aye  to  fa'  to 
me,  and  it  was  so  coggly  that  it  couldna  sit  dooble,  sae  that  nae 
lassie  would  venture  to  drap  down  aside  you  on't,  no,  not  even  gin  you 
were  to  take  her  ontil  your  verra  knee.  Wha  cou'd  hae  foreseen, 
in  .thae  days,  that  I,  Jamie  Hogg,  would  ever  hae  been  sittin'  on 
down  cushions,  covered  wi'  damask,  waitin  for  Christopher  North, 
in  Awmrose's  Hotel,  in  Picardy,  surrounded  wi'  mirrors  a'  ableeze, 
reflected  fires,  shintiilating  wi'  gilt  mouldin's,  and  surmounted  wi' 
eagles'  beaks,  seemin'  to  haud  up  the  glitterin'  glasses  in  the  air  by 
golden  cords,  while  out  o'  the  mouths  o'  leopards  and  lions  depended 
chandeliers  o'  cut  crystal,  lustres  indeed,  dotted  wi'  wax  caundles, 
as  the  galaxy  wi'  stars,  and  filling  the  perfumed  Saloon  wi'  un- 
winkin'  light,  frae  the  Turkey  ccu*pet  to  the  Persian  roof,  a  heicht 
that  it  would  be  fatal  to  fa'  frae,  and  that  a  pridefu'  poet  couldna 
houp  to  strike  wi'  his  head,  even  when  lowpin'  and  dancin'  in  an 
Ode  and  Dream.  Methinks  I  see  my  father  and  my  mother !  my 
brothers  and  sisters !  We  are  a'  sittin'  thegither — the  grown-up— 
the  little  and  the  less — the  peat-fire,  wi'  an  ash -root  in't,  is  bright 
and  vaporless  as  a  new-risen  star  that  ye  come  suddenly  in  sight 
o',  and  think  it  sae  near,  that  you  could  malst  grap  it  wi'  your  out- 
stretched haun.  What  voices  are  these  I  hear? — ^the  well-known, 
well-beloved  tones  of  lips  that  have  lang  syne  been  in  the  clayl 
There  is  the  bed  on  which  I  used  to  sleep  beside  my  parents,  when 
I  was  ca'd  "  Wee  Jamie,"  and  on  the  edge  o'  which  mony  a  time, 
when  I  was  a  growin'  callant,  hae  I  sat  with  the  lasses,  in  innocent 
dafiin',  a  skirlf  noo  and  then  half  waukenin'  the  auld  man  asleep,  or 
pretendin'  to  be  sae,  by  the  ingle-neuck.^  I  see  before  me  the  cover- 
let patched  with  a  million  pawtrons,  chance  being  the  kaleedoscope, 
and  the  harmony  of  the  colors  perfect  as  that  o'  a  bank  o'  fiowers. 
As  for  mirrors,  there  was  but  ae  single  lookin'  glass  in  a'  the  house, 
gayan  sair  cracket,  and  the  ising  rubbed  aff,  sae  that  ye  had  a  comi- 
cal face  and  queer,  when  you  shaved,  and  on  the  Sunday  morn  in', 
when  the  family  were  buskin§  themsells  for  the  kirk,  it  gaed  glintin** 
like  a  sunbeam  frae  ane  till  anither,  but  aye  rested  langest  afore  the 
face  o'  bonnie  Tibby  Laidlaw. 

£nter  Mr.  Ambrose  toitk  some  reindeer  tongttes, 

Mr.  Ambrose.  A  present,  Mr.  Hogg,  from  the  Emperor  of  Russia 

"Jtfatfitm—ahare.  t  5ictW,— thrill  or/,  t  Tivlo^neuekj—chimntj'Oamn.  ^  BkM,— dro«.  -  M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


6  HO0TB8  AMBBOSULSJL 

to  Mr.  North.  The  Emperor,  you  remember,  sir,  when  Dake 
Nicholas,*  used  to  honor  Gabriel's  Road.  Asleep,  with  his  eyes 
open !  JSxit  (retroffrediens.) 

Shepherd.  Puir  Tibby !  Mony  a  time  hae  I  tied  my  neckcloth 
extendin'  the  knot  intil  twa  white  rose-buds,  in  her  een !  stannin' 
sae  dose,  in  order  that  1  might  see  my  image,  that  the  ruffles  o'  my 
Sabbath-sarkf  just  touched  her  breast-knot,  and  my  breath  amaist 
lifted  up  the  love-lock  that  the  light-hearted  cretur  used  to  let  hang, 
as  if  through  carelessness,  on  ae  rosy  cheek,  just  aboon  and  about  the 
rim  o'  her  wee,  white,  thin  lug,  that  kent,  I  trow,  a'  the  tunes  ever 
sung  in  Scotland.  But — oh  !  that  lugt  listened  to  what  it  shouldna 
hae  listened  till — and  awa'  frae  the  r  orest  fled  its  Flower  wi'  an 
outlandish  French  prisoner  on  his  parole  at  Selkirk,  but  set  free  by 
the  short  peace.  He  disappeared  from  her  ae  night  in  London,  and 
she  became  a  thing  of  shame,  sin,  and  sorrow.  Years  afterwards  she 
begged  her  way  back  to  the  hut  in  which  she  had  been  bom — was 
forgiven  by  her  father  and  mother,  wha  had  never  had  any  other 
ohild  but  her — and,  ere  the  second  Sabbath  after  her  return,  she  was 
buried  decently  and  quietly,  and  without  many  tears,  in  the  kirk- 
yard,  where  she  had  for  many  springs  gathered  the  primroses ;  for, 
although  her  life  had  latterly  been  that  of  a  great  sinner,  nobody 
that  knew  her  attributed  that  sin  to  her,  puir  cretur,  but  thocht  on 
her  as  ane  o'  thae  victims  that  the  Evil  One  is  permitted,  by  an  in- 
scrutable Providence,  to  choose  out  frae  amang  the  maist  innocent 
o'  the  daughters  o'  men,  to  confound  all  that  would  put  their  trust 
in  human  virtue. — Was  Awmrose  no  in  the  room  the  noo  1     Pre- 

*  Th«  nrescnt  Emperor  of  Ruasia  Tisited  Edinbargh  fa  1816. — Nicholas,  third  sob  of  the 
Emperor  Paul,  wu  bmii  in  171M,  and  received  a  good  ednoation.  la  1817,  he  married  the  aister 
of  the  preM*nt  King  of  PruHia.  (Frederick  William  III.)  and  succeeded  to  the  throne  on  the 
death  of  his  brother  Alexander,  in  December,  18S5.  On  this  occasion  was  presented  the  sinini- 
lar  spectacle  of  two  brothers  contending  who  should  not  wear  the  imperial  pnrple.  The  Aroh- 
Duko  Constantino  was  older  than  his  brother  Nicholas,  and  Czar  de  facto  on  the  death  of 
the  childless  Alexander.  He  was  in  Warsaw,  as  Governor  of  Poland,  when  the  tidings  reached 
St.  Petersburgh.  Nicholas  immediately  took  the  oaths  of  allegiance  to  Constantino,  and  made 
the  army  take  them  also.  After  two  days  of  seclusion  and  grief,  when  Constantine  was  in- 
formed of  his  brother's  death,  he  announced  that,  with  the  full  sanction  of  the  late  Emperor, 
he  had  renounced  his  right  of  succession,  in  January,  18*22,  in  favor  of  Nicholas.  The  act  of 
renunciation  was  deposited  in  the  archives  of  the  empire,  but  Nicholas  refosed  to  aetnpon  it, 
saying  that  it  wanted  the  force  of  a  law,  and  that  if  Constantine  wished  to  exercise  the  right 
of  renunciation,  he  must  do  so  aft esh.  After  an  interregnum  of  three  weeks,  Constantine 
persisting  in  renouncing  the  throne,  Nicholas  aaoended  it.  Constantine,  it  appears,  who  had 
lived  unhappily  with  and  was  separated  from  his  wife,  had  fallen  in  lore  with  a  beautiful  Polish 
lady,  whom  he  married,  after  obtaining  a  divorce  from  his  first  wife.  This  espousal,  in  18GS0| 
was  m^ganatie^  (or  with  the  left  hand,)  and  therefore  no  children  resulting  m>m  it  oonld  be- 
eome  Orand-Dukes  nor  succeed  to  the  throne.  The  condition  on  which  Alexander  had  sanc- 
tioned the  divorce  and  permitted  the  second  marriage,  was  that  Constantine  renonnoe  bis  impe- 
rial heirdom,  which  was  legally  done  and  accepted,  and  Constantine,  (more  tenacious  of  his 
honor  as  "  a  gentleman,"  than  Nicholas  has  lately  oeen.)  insisted  upon  its  being  acted  upon. 
From  his  accession,  Nicholas  has  been  animated  by  one  purpose — of  enlarging  the  territory  and 
augmenting  the  power  and  influence  of  Russia.  To  efiect  this,  he  became  involred  in  a  war 
with  Turkey,  soon  after  he  beeame  Czar,  and  his  second  attack  en  the  Saltan,  involriag 
Europe  in  a  general  contest,  and  bringing  France  and  England  in  firm  allianoe,  has  sprang 
from  the  same  cause.— M. 

t  SrtrJlr,—a  shirt    %  /.«/,— an'ear.—M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


THE  SOLILOQUY.  7 

serve  us!  what  a  tot  o'  tongues !  And  it's  me  that  used  to  fin'  &nt 
wi'  Shakspeare  for  putting  lang  soliloquies  into  the  mouths  of  his 
chief  characters !  Now,  this  seems  to  be  the  pheelosophj  o'  the 
soliloquy : — either  you  are  in  the  habit  o'  speaking  to  yourself  in 
real  life  or  no— if  you  are,  then  it  follows  o'  coorse,  that  you  ought 
to  lose  no  opportunity,  if  puttin'  intil  a  play,  o'  coromunicatin'  your 
sentiments  or  opinions  to  yoursell  in  private,  when  there  is  none  by 
to  break  the  thread  o'  your  discourse.  If  you  are  not,  then  you  must 
never  be  lefb  by  yoursell  in  a  scene;  for  nae  actor,  when  he  is 
manei  solu$y  is  allowed,  by  the  laws  o'  t^e  drama,  to  say  nor  do 
uaething — but  just  to  walk  about,  or  to  sit  down  on  a  chayre  in  the 
middle  o'  the  room,  whirling  his  hat,  or  counting  his  fingers.  To 
soliloquice  seems  natural  to  a  hantle  o'  folk — and  that's  reason 
aneuoh  to  authoreeze  the  practice  on  the  stage.  Neither  am  I  sure 
that  soliloquies  are  aye  short  or  shortish — for  I  ance  keepit  speakin' 
to  mysell,  1  recolleck,  a'  the  way  frae  the  Gray  Mare's  Tail  to  Mount 
Benger.  The  fack  is,  that  the  Sowl,  when  up  wi'  ony  strong  passion, 
expresses  a'  it  feels  chiefly  to  itsell,  even  when  it  seems  to  be 
addressin'  ithers  that  happen  to  be  present  at  the  hour  o'  trouble. 
The  sumphs  think  it's  poorin'  itsell  out  to  them,  for  the  sake  o'  their 
sympathies,  whereas  it's  in  a  manner  beside  itsell ;  and  the  tane 
talks  till  the  tither,  as  if  they  were  twa ;  but  there's  only  aue — 
speaker  and  hearer  being  the  same  Sowl — and  the  triflin'  creturs 
that  are  in  the  room  at  the  time,  being  little  mair  than  sae  mony 
chairs — the  tongs  or  the  poker— or  him  that  they  ca'  the  Speaker  o' 
the  Hoose  o'  Commons.  But  I'm  settin'  as  hoarse  as  a  craw — and 
had  better  ring  the  bell  for  a  jug.  Deevil  tak  the  worsted  bell-rape 
— see  if  it  hasna  bracken  short  a£^  leaving  the  ring  in  my  haun  t 
Mercy  on  us,  whatten  a  feet  o'  flunkeys  in  the  trance ! 

{Door  fixes  open — and  enter  Ticklbr — North,  supported  by 
Mb.  Ambbosk.) 

What  a  queer  couple  o'  auld  fellows,  a'  covered  wi'  cranreuch  !* 
Is't  snawin'.  sirs  ? 

Tickler.  Snawin',  my  dear  James! — Sleeting,  hailing,  raining, 
driving,  and  blasting,  all  in  one  unexpected  coalition  of  parties,  to 
the  utter  discomfort  and  dismay  of  all  his  Majesty's  loyal  sub- 
jects. 

Shepherd.  And  hae  you  wawked  up,  like  twa  fules,  frae  Haw- 
hannan  Lodge,  in  sic  an  eerie  nicht,  knee-deep  in  mire,  glaur,  and 
sludge  ? 

Tickler.  One  of  North's  coach-horses  is  sick,  and  the  other  lame 
—  and — 


Digitized  by 


Google 


O  NOGTES   AMBBOaiANJfi. 

Shepherd.  Catch  me  keepin'  a  cotch.     It  costs  Mr.  North  five 

fuineas,  every  hurl — and  him  that's  gettin'  sae  narrow  too,* — ^but 
^ride !  hech,  sirs,  Pride  gets  the  maister  o'  avarice — and  he'll  no 
condescend  to  hire  a  haicitney,  Dinna  melt  in  the  Saloon,  sirs — 
gang  intill  the  trance,f  and  then  come  back  glitterin'  like  twa  ser- 
pents as  you  are,  twa  Boa-Constrictors,  or  rather  Rattlesnakes,  wi' 
your  forked  tongues,  and  wee  red  piercin'  een,  grow  in'  aye  mair  and 
mair  venomous,  as  ye  begin  to  bask  and  beek  in  the  hearth-heat, 
and  turn  about  the  heads  o'  you  to  spy  whom  you  may  fasten  on, 
lick  a'  ower  wi'  glue,  an^  then  draw  them  into  your  jaws  by  suc- 
tion, crashin'  their  banes  like  egg-shells,  and  then  hiss-hissin'  to  ane 
anither  in  weel-pleased  fierceness^  after  your  ain  natur,  which  mony 
a  puir  tortirt  cretur  has  kent  to  his  cost  to  be  without  pity  and  with- 
out ruth — ye  Sons  o'  Satan ! 

North,  Thank  ye,  my  dear  James,  for  all  your  kind  inquiries. 
Quite  well,  except  being  even  deafer  than  usual,  or — 

Shepherd,  Ne'er  mind,  sir ;  Til  mak  you  hear  on  the  deafest  side 
o'  your  head.     But  whare's  the  siller  ear- trumpet? 

Tickler,  Buchanan  Lodge,  James,  was  stealthily  entered  a  few 
nights  ago  by  some  rejected  contributors,  in  a  mere  jeu  d^esprit^ — 
and  a  Shabby-genteel  was  observed  by  one  of  the  police,  this  very 
afternoon,  driving  South  in  what  appeared  to  be  a  hired  gig,  and 
attempting  to  make  North's  ear-trumpet  perform  the  part  of  a 
bugle.  He  immediately  gave  chase,  and  has,  doubtless,  overtaken 
the  depredator  at  Fushee  Bridge  or  Torsonce. 

Shepherd.  The  neist  article  my  gentleman  sends,  maun  be  on  the 
Tread  Mill.  But  what's  North  fummlin'  at  yonner?  Odd,  he's 
)ust,  for  a'  the  warld,  like  a  wee  bit  corn-stack,  frosted  and  poothered 
over  wi'  rime.];  Noo  Mr.  Awmrose  has  gotten  him  out  o'  the 
theikin', — and  oh!  but  he  looks  genteel,  and  like  a  verra  nobleman 
in  that  speck  and  span  new  blue  coat,  wi'  big  yellow  buttons ;  nor 
wad  that  breast  ill  become  a  star.  Reel  roun'  his  throne,  Mr. 
Awmrose. 

(Mr.  Ambrose  wheels  Mr.  North  in  the  patent  chair  to  the 
off-door  side  of  the  fire,  setting  hia  footstool,  and  depositing 
the  crutch  in  its  own  niche,  leaning  on  the  pedestal  of 
Apollo,) 

Tickler,  Heaven  and  earth,  James,  are  you  well,  my  dear  friend  1 
You  seem  reduced  to  a  mere  shadow. 

Shepherd.  Reduced  to  a  mere  shadow  !  I'm  thinkin',  sir,  you'll 
hae  been  mistakiu'  your  nain  figure  in  the  glass  for  me  the  noo— 

North,  Thank  ye,  Mr.  Ambrose.    Family  all  well  ?     That's  right 

♦  JVarrojp,— itingy.    f  7Va»c«,— €ntrance.    t  /iiw*,— hoac-fro«t. — M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


DI88£anON.  9 

— that's  right  Where's  the  Shepherd)  Lord  bless  me,  JameS| 
are  you  ill ! 

Shepherd,  Me  ill!  What  the  deevil's  to  mak  me  ill?  But 
you're  baith  jokin',  noo,  sirs. 

Tickler,  Pardon  my  weakness,  James,  but  I  had  a  very  ugly 
dream  about  you — and  your  appearance — 

Shepherd,  Ma  appearance?  What  the  deevil's  the  matter  wi' 
ma  appearance !  Mr.  North,  am  I  luckin'  ony  way  out  o*  health  ? 
— {Aside,) — Aye — aye,  my  lads,  I  see  what  youVe  ettlin  at  noo — 
but  I'm  no  sae  saft  and  simple's  I  look  like — (Aloud,) — You  had  au 
ugly  dream,  Mr.  Tickler, — what  was't  about  ?     Let's  hear't. 

Tickler,  That  you  were  dead,  James — laid  out — coffined — biered 
— buried — supersmbed — and — 

Shepherd,  Houkit  up  by  half  a  dizzen  resurrection- men — driven 
by  nicht  in  a  gig  to  Embro',  and  selt  for  three  pounds  ten  shillings 
to  a  lecturin'  surgeon,  for  a  subject  o'  demonstration  afore  a  schule 
o'  younc  doctors ;  and  after  that,  an  atomy  in  Surgeon's  Ha'.  Do 
ye  ken,  Mr.  Tickler,  that  I  wud  like  gran'  to  see  you  disseckit.  That 
is,  after  you  was  dead — for  I'm  no  wishin'  you  dead  yet,  although 
you  plague  me  sairiy  sometimes ;  and  are  aye  tryin',  I  winna  say 
wi'  what  success,  to  be  witty  at  my  expense.  I  wish  you  a'  happi- 
ness, sir,  and  a  lang  life — but  I  houp  I  may  add  without  offence, 
that  gin  ye  was  fairly  and  bonny  feedy  dead — I  wud  like  to  see  the 
corp  disseckit,  no  on  a  public  table,  afore  hunners  o'  glowering  gaw- 
puses,  but  in  a  parlor  afore  a  few  chosen  peers,  sic  as  Mr.  North, 
there,  and  Odoherty ;  and  A  who,  by  the  way,  would  be  happy,  I 
dinna  doubt,  to  perform  the  operation  himsell,  and  I  could  answer 
fur  his  doin't  wi'  a  haun  at  anoe  firm  and  tender,  resolute  and 
respectfu',  for  ae  man  o'  genius  is  aye  kind  to  anither  on  a'  sic  occa- 
sions ;  and  A  would  cut  you  up,  sir,  as  delicately  as  you  were  his 
ain  father.* 

Tickler,  Is  it  to  give  a  flavor  to  the  oysters,  James,  that  you 
talk  so  ?    Suppose  we  <^hange  the  subject. 

Shepherd,  We  shall  leave  that  to  A,  sir.  There's  nae  need  for 
ohangin'  the  subject  yet ;  besides,  dinna  ye  introduce't  yoursell,  by 
offerin'  to  receet  your  ugly  dream  about  my  decease  ?     But — 

North,  My  dear  James,  I  have  left  you,  by  my  last  will  and  tes- 
tament, my  skull. 

Shepherd,  Oh !  my  dear  sir,  but  I  take  that  verra  vera  kind.  I'll 
hae't  siller  munted — the  tap  o't — that  is,  the  organ  o'  veneration, 
which  in  you  is  enormous — sawn  aff  like  thato'  acooko-nit,  and,  then 
fastened  on  for  a  lid  by  a  hinge — and  I'll  keep  a'  ma  manuscripps 
in't — and  also  that  wee  stereoteep  Bible  you  gied  me  that  beautiful 

*D.  M.  Moir.  th«  DalU  of  BUolnrood't  Magasine,  wm  a  mrgton,  and  prantioed  at  Monal- 
bnrgh,  bmt  fidiabnrgli  — M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


10  NOCTKS   AMBBOSIASJE. 

Sunday  simmer  night  we  spak  sae  seriously  about  religion,  when 
the  sun  was  settin'  sae  gloriously,  and  the  profound  hush  o'  nature 
seemed  o'  itsell  an  assurance  o^  immortality.  Mr.  Tiokler,  will  ye 
no  leave  me  your  skull,  too,  as  weel's  the  cremona  that  I  ken's  in  a 
eodocil,  to  staun  <^eek  by  jowl  wi'  Mr.  North's,  on  the  tap  o'  my 
mahogany  leebrary  ? 

Tickler.  Be  it  so,  James — but  the  bequest  must  be  mutual. 

Shepherd,  I  hae  nae  objections — there's  my  thumb  I'll  ne'er  be- 
guile you.  Oh,  sir !  but  1  wad  look  unco  gash  on  a  bit  pedestal  in 
file  parlor  o'  Southside,  when  you  were  enterteenin'  your  sma'  snug 
pairties  wi'  anecdots  o'  the  Shepherd.  There's  something  pleasant 
in  the  thocht,  sir,  for  I'm  sure  ye  wad  tell  nae  ill  o'  me — uid  that 
you  wud  every  Saturday  nicht  wipe  the  dust  frae  my  skull  wi'  a 
towel,  mutterin'  perhaps  at  a  time,  "  Alas,  poov  Yorick  I" 

Tickler.  James,  you  affect  me — ^you  do  indeed — 

Shepherd.  Silly  fules,  noo,  were  they  to  owerhear  us  jockin'  and 
jeerin'  in  this  gate  about  ane  anither's  skulls,  wud  ca'  us  Atheists, 
and  deny  our  richt  to  Christian  burial.  But  what  signifies  a  skull  ? 
The  shell  of  the  flown  bird,  said  Simonides,  a  pensive  poet  of  old* — 
for  whose  sake  would  that  I  could  read  Greek — though  I  fancy  there 
are  o'  him  but  some  sma'  and  uncertain  remains. 

North.  Religion,  James,  follows  the  bird  in  her  flight,  and  beholds 
her  alight  in  heaven. 

Shepherd.  Yet  that's  nae  reason  for  treatin'  a  skull  irreverently 
— playin'  tricks  wi't — pittin'  a  cigaur  in  its  teeth^-or  a  wig  on't — 
or  try  in'  to  stick  spectacles  afore  the  bowesf  o'  what  was  ance  its 
een — without  ony  brig  o'  a  nose  for  them  to  rest  on — or  whisperin' 
jntill  its  wide-open  but  deaf,  deaf  lugs,  some  amusin'  maitter  frae 
ane  o'  the  Noctes  Ambrosianse  !  There's  nae  reason  for  haudin'  up 
a  caulker  o'  Glenlivet  to  its  gab,  and  askin'  the  silent  skull  for  a 
sentiment— or  to  join,  as  it  used  to  do,  till  its  very  sutures  were 
like  to  split,  in  a  Three  times  Three !  There's  nae  reason  for  ca'in' 
iipon't  for  a  sang,  true  as  its  ear  aince  was,  and  its  tongue  like  sil- 
ver— for  a  sang  either  tragic  or  comic— ony  mair  than  there  is  for 
playin'  at  bowls  wi't  on  the  green,  or  at  fit-ba'  or  giein'  it  even  to 
the  bairns,  if  they  hae  courage  to  accepp  o't,  instead  o'  a  turnip,  to 
frighten  folk  wi'  a  cawnle  low  within  its  banes  by  the  side  o'  a  kirk- 
yard  wa'  on  Halloween.  In  short,  there's  nae  need  either  for  despair 
or  daflin',  when  a  man  takes  the  skull  o'  a  freen  into  his  haun,  or 
looks  at  it  on  the  mantel-piece,  it's  a  mementy  mori  o'  friendship — 
and  at  a'  y events,  isna't  far  better  think  ye,  sirs,  for  a  skull  to  be 
stannin'  decently  as   a  relic  or  bequest,  in  a  warm  cozy  parlor  like 

•  SimonidM,  the  Ore«k  philosopher,  who  excelled  in  lyrio  poetry  and  eleffr,  wwb  boru  B.  (X 
•58,  oa  the  leknd  of  Ceos,  aod  died,  aged  8»,  at  the  Court  of  Hiero,  Kiag  of  Syraciue.— M. 
t  He«M,— holei. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


WHIBKY  PUNCH.  11 

N 

Uiat  at  Mount  Benger,  Southside,  or  Bawhannan  Lodge,  than  deep 
down  within  the  clayey  cauldness — the  rotten  corruption  o'  a  grea* 
city  kirkyard,  o'  which  the  hail  sile  is  a  decomposition  o*  flesh  and 
banes,  as  if  ae  vast  oorp  filled  a'  the  burial  grand — and  ye  canna 
stick  in  a  piok  without  hittin'  the  splinter  o'  the  coffin  ? 

North,  James,  many  a  merrv  Christmas  to  us  all.     What  a  jug  1 

Shepherd,  It's  an  instinck  wi'  me  noo,  makin'  het  whisky  toddy.* 
A'  the  time  o'  our  silly  discourse  about  our  skulls,  was  I  steerin' 
about  the  liquid,  plumpin'  in  the  bits  o'  sugar,  and  garrin*  the  green 
bottle  gurgle — unconscious  o'  what  I  was  about — ^yet,  as  ye  observe, 
sir,  wi'  your  usual  sagacity,  "  What  a  jug  I" 

Tickler.  There  is  no  such  school  of  temperance  as  Ambrose^s  in 
the  world — a  skreed  in  any  room  of  his  house  clears  my  head  for  a 
month,  and  restrings  my  stomach  to  such  a  pitch  of  power,  that, 
like  an  ostrich,  I  can  digest  a  nail  or  a  cork-screw. 

North,  Sobriety  is  the  strength  of  our  physical,  moral,  and  intel- 
lectual life.  Bat  how  can  any  man  hope  to  continue  long  sober, 
who  calumniates  cordial  conviviality — misnames  fun  folly,  and  mirth 
malignity — turns  up  the  whites  of  his  >eyes  at  humor,  because  it  is 
broad,  broad  as  the  sea  in  the  sunshine — who  in  his  false  wisdom 
knows  not  what  real  wit  is,  or,  half  knowing  it,  turns  away, 
abashed  and  detected  from  its  corruscations  that  are  ever  harm- 
less to  the  truly  good,  and  wither  only  the  weak  or  the  wicked — 
who 

Shepherd.  Stap,  sir — stap— for  you'll  never  be  able  to  fin'  your 
way,  at  this  time  o'nicht,  out  o'  sic'  a  sentence.  It's  o'  a  perplexin' 
and  bewilderin'  kind  o'  constraction,  and  I'll  defy  mortal  man  to 
make  his  escape  out  o't  without  breakin'  through,  in  perfect  despe- 
ration, a'  the  rales  o'  grammar,  and  upsettin'  Dr.  Syntax  at  the  door 
o'  a  parenthesis. 

North.  Never  shall  Sot  be  suflered  to  sit  at  our  Symposium, 
James.     Not  even  the  genius  of  a  Sheridan 

*  The  myatery  of  making  whiskj-punch  oomei  with  praotioa.  Th»  nxfar  should  be  flfit 
dlMoWed  in  a  small  quantity  of  -water,  -which  must  be  what  the  Irish  ci,ll  *'  acreechine  hot." 
Next  throw  in  the  whisky.  'lh«B  add  a  thin  sharing  of  fresh  lemon  peel.  Then  add  the 
rest  of  the  water,  so  that  the  spirits  -will  be  a  third  of  the  mixtore.  Lastly, — Drink  !  Lemon^ 
joice  is  deleterious  and  should  be  eschewed.  What  is  called  '^  Father  Maguire's  receipt  for 
making  Punch,"  is  more  simple  than  the  above.  It  runs  thvs,— First  put  in  your  sugar,  then 
add  the  whisky— and  tvny  drop  af  water  after  tkat  »poU$  the  punch  I  Glasgow  Punch  is  cold. 
To  make  a  quart  jag  of  it,  melt  the  su^ar  in  a  little  water.  Squeese  a  couple  of  lemons  thronrh 
a  small  hair*strain«r,  and  mix.  This  is  Sherbet,  and  half  the  battle  consists  in  its  being  well- 
made.  Then  add  old  Jamaica  rum,  in  the  proportion  of  one  to  six.  Finally,  cut  two  lime* 
in  two,  and  run  each  section  rapidly  round  the  edge  of  the  jup^,  gently  squeezing  in  some  oT 
this  more  delicate  acid  to  complete  the  flavor.  This  mixture  is  verf  insinuating,  and  leaves 
those  who  freely  take  it,  the  legacy  of  splitting  headaches,  into  the  day-use  of  which  thej  can 
enter  the  next  morning !  Of  hot  punch,  however,  though  containing  double  the  quantity  of 
alcoholic  spirit,  it  is  boastingly  said,  '*  There  is  not  a  headache  in  a  hogshead  of  it."  In  the 
rural  parts  of  Scotland,  at  the  harvest-home,  1  have  seen  the  punch  made  in  soiall  woodeft 
tubs,  which,  as  made  to  contain  the  fonrth  part  of  a  boll  of  corn,  is  called  a  firlot.  The  quan^ 
4ity  of  this  puneh  tboae  men  can  and  do  drink  in  Scotland,  is  wonderfully  large.  At  tkt 
**Noctee,"  it  will  be  noticed,  the  punch  was  alwajs  hot.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


12  KOCTES   AHBBOSIAK^. 

Shepherd,  Pshewwhooho — the  genius  o'  Sheridan !  O,  sir,  bat 
his  comedies  are  cauldrife  composition ;  and  the  hail  tot  of  them's 
no  worth  the  warst  Noctes  Ambrosianse  that  ever  Maister  Ourney, 
that  gentleman  o'  the  press,  extended  frae  out  o'  short  haun.  His 
mind  had  baith  pint  and  glitter — but  sae  has  a  preen.  Sheridan  had 
but  a  sma'  sowl — and  even  his  oratory  was  feeble,  false,  and  fushion- 
less ;  and  ane  o'  the  auld  Covenanters  wad  hae  rowted  him  doon 
intil  a  silent  ceepher  on  the  hillside,  makin'  him  fin'  what  elo- 
quence  is,  no  made  up  o'  patches  frae  ither  men's  pamphlets,  and  o' 
lang  accounts  and  statements,  interlarded  wi'  rancid  rant,  and  faded 
figures  new  dyed  like  auld  claes,  that  do  weel  aneuch  by  caunlelight, 
but  look  desperate  shabby  in  the  day  time — wi'  remarks,  forsooth, 
on  human  life  and  the  principles  of  Eternal  Justice — nae  less— o^ 
which  the  unhappy  neerdoweel  kent  tnuckle,  nae  doubt — having 
never  read  a  good  and  great  book  a'  his  days,  and  associated  chiefly 
with  the  vilest  o'  vile 

North.  James — what's  the  meaning  of  all  this  t  These  sudden 
bursts 

Shepherd,  I  canna  thole  to  hear  sic  a  sot  as  Sherry  aye  classed  wi' 
Pitt  and  Burke. 

Tickler,  Nor  L  A  couple  of  clever  comedies  —a  few  elegant  epi* 
logues — a  so-so  opera — some  spirited  speechify ings — a  few  fitful 
flashes — some  composed  corru^cations  of  conversational  wit — will 
these  make  a  great  man  ?*  Bah !  As  to  his  faults  and  failings,  on 
their  ashes  we  must  tread  tenderly 

North,  Yes ;  but  we  must  not  collect  them  in  an  urn,  and  weep 
over  them  in  maudlin'  worship.  He  was  but  a  town-wit  after  all, 
and  of  a  very  superficial  fancy.     He  had  no  imagination. 

Shepherd,  No  a  grain.  He  could  say  sharp  things  upon  blunt 
people — turn  a  common  thocht  wi'  a  certain  neatness,  that  gied  it, 
at  first  heann',  an  air  o'  novelty  ;  and  an  image  bein'  to  him  rather 
a  rare  occurrence,  he  polished  it  afl^till  the  peeble  seemed  a  diamond ; 
but  after  a'  it  coudna  write  on  glass,  and  was  barely  worth  settin'  in 
the  warst  goold.  He  wanted  copiousness,  ferteelity,  richness,  va- 
reeity,  feelin',  truth  o*  natur,  sudden  inspiration,  poor  o'  thocht ;  and 
as  for  either  beauty  or  sublimity,  he  had  a  fause  notion  o'  them  in 
words,  and  nae  notion  o'  them  at  a'  in  things,  and  never  drew  a  tear 
or  garr'd  the  reader  grue  in  a'  his  days.  Peezarro  alone  proves  him 
to  hae  had  nae  real  sowl ;  for  though  the  subject  be  patriotism,  and 
liberty,  and  independence,  it's  a'  naething  but  flummery,  and  a  frit- 
ter o'  gran'  sound  in'  senseless  words,  that  gang  in  at  the  tae  lug  and 


*  BirroA^t  Mtinuite  of  8h«ridaii  wm  vtrr  high.  Ha  considered  that  whaterer  lie  had  done 
>  was  par  exctltenee^  alwaji  the  btt  of  its  kind."  and  named  the  oomedy  of  the  School  foe 
Scandal,  the  opera  of  the  Duenna,  the  farce  of  the^  Critic,  the  Monologue  on  Garrick,  and  the 
fam«>Dt>  V  ...     —  — 

dosves.- 


Digitized  by 


Google 


DAY  DBEAMS.  18 

out  at  the  tither,  like  great  big  bummin'  blue-bottle  flees  on  a  sinnj 
day,  in  a  room  wi'  cross  lichts — the  folk  at  their  toddy  half-wonderin' 
aod  half-angry  wi'  the  pompous  in  seeks.  Better  far  the  bonny,  licht, 
spatty,  and  mealy-winged,  atrial  butterflee,  that  keeps  waverin'  frae 
flower  to  firmament,  useless  but  beautifu',  and  remembered,  for  sake 
o'  its  silent  mirth  and  motion,  after  the  bit  gaudy  ephemeral  has  sank 
down  and  expired  amidst  the  evening  dews.  And  oh,  how  many  thou- 
sand times  mair  preferable,  the  bit  broon  busy  bee,  that  has  a  sting, 
but  gin  ye  let  it  alane  will  sting  naebody,  that  selects,  by  instinct, 
aye  the  sweetest  flowers,  rare  as  they  may  be  in  the  weedy  wild,  and 
wi  cheerfu'  murmur,  returns  wax  or  honey-laden,  at  the  gloamin\  to 
its  straw- theeked  skep  in  the  garden-nyeuck,  and  continues,  wi'  the 
rest  o'  its  innocent  and  industrious  nation,  to  sing  a'  nicht  lang,when 
a'  the  een  o'  heaven  hae  closed,  and  no  a  breath  is  stirrin'  out  ower 
a'  the  hills,  trees,  or  castles. 

Tickler,  Would  you  believe  it,  Hogg,  that  it  is  no  unusual  thing 
for  droves  of  numbsculls  to  come  driving  along  these  lobbies,  poking 
their  low-browed  stupidities  into  every  parlor,  hoping  to  surprise  us 
At  a  Noctes  Ambrosianae,  and  wondering  what  can  possibly  have  be- 
come of  us,  with  their  great  big  gray  goggle  eyes,  sticking  boiled- 
lobster-like  out  of  their  dirty-red  physiognomies,  with  their  clumsy 
gift  of  tongues  lolling  out  of  their  blubber-lipped  mouths,  in  a  sort 
of  speechless  slaver,  their  very  nostrils  distended  and  quivering  with 
vulgar  perplexity  and  disappointment,  and  an  ear  seemingly  nailed 
to  each  side  of  their  ignorance-box,  somewhere  about  the  size  of  a 
small  kibbock  1 

Shepherd.  Whaten  a  fricht  they  wud  get,  gin  they  were  to  find  us ! 
The  sumphs  wud  swarf.* 

North,  They  know  not,  James,  that  a  single  tap  of  the  crutch  on 
the  floor  enchants  us  and  our  orgies  into  instant  invisibility.  Hunt 
the  dew-drops  after  they  have  fled  from  before  the  sun-rising — the 
clouds  that  have  gone  sailing  away  over  the  western  horizon,  to  be 
in  at  the  sun-setting — the  flashing  and  foaming  waves  that  have  left 
the  sea  and  all  her  isles  in  a  calm  at  last — the  cushats  still  murmur- 
ing on  farther  and  farther  into  the  far  forest,  till  the  sound  is  now 
faint  as  an  echo,  and  then  nothing — golden  eagles  lost  in  light,  and 
raging  in  their  joy  on  the  very  rim  of  this  globe's  attraction — during 
the  summer  heats,  the  wild  flowers  that  strew  the  old  woods  of  Ca- 
ledon  only  during  the  pure  snowy  breath  of  the  earth-brightening 
spring — the  stars,  that  at  once  disappeffr  with  all  their  thousands,  at 
the  howl  of  the  midnight  storm — the  lightnings  suddenly  intersecting 
the  collied  night,  and  then  ofi*  and  away  forever,  quicker  than  forgot- 
ten thoughts — the  grave-mounds,  once  so  round  and  green,  James, 

•  jSngiiee, — the  fool*  would  swoon. — iL 


Digitized  by 


Google 


14  NOCTKS   AMBBOSIAN.fi. 

and  stepped  over  so  tenderly  bj  footsteps  going  towards  the  low 
door  of  the  little  kirk,  but  all  gone  now,  James, — kirk,  kirk-yard  and 
all,  James — and  not  a  house  in  all  the  whole  parish,  that  has  not  been 
many  times  over  and  over  again  pulled  down — altered — rebuilt,  till 
a  ghost,  could  he  but  loosen  himself  from  the  strong  till,  and  raise 
up  his  head  from  among  a  twenty -acre  field  of  turnips  and  potatoes, 
and  peas,  would  know  not  his  own  bonnie  birth-place,  and  death- 
place  too,  once  so  fringed  and  fragrant  with  brush-wood  over  all  its 
knolls,  with  whins,  and  broom,  and  harebells,  and  in  moist  moorland 
places,  James,  beautiful  with  ^'  green  grows  the  rashes  o',''  &nd  a  lit- 
tle loch,  clear  as  any  well,  and  always,  always  when  you  lay  down 
and  drank,  cool,  cold,  chill,  and  soul-restoring — now  drained  for  the 
sake  of  marl,  and  forsaken  by  the  wild  swans,  that  used  to  descend 
from  heaven  in  their  perfect  whiteness,  for  a  moment  fold  up  their 
sounding  pinions,  and  then,  hoisting  their  wings  for  sails,  go  veering 
like  ships  on  a  pleasure-cruise,  all  up  and  down  in  every  direction, 
obeying  the  air-like  impulses  of  inward  happiness,  all  up  and  down, 
James ;  such  heavenly  air-and- water- woven  world,  as  your  own  St. 
Mary's  Loch,  or  Loch  of  the  Lowes,  with  its  odd,  silent,  ruined 
chapel,  and  one  or  two  shepherds'  houses,  as  silent  as  the  chapel,  but 
as  you  may  know  from  the  smoke,  old,  but  not  ruined,  and,  though 
silent,  alive ! 

Tickler,  Hurra!  hurra!  hurra! 

Shepherd.  O,  man.  North,  but  you  are  a  barefaced  eemetawtor  o' 
me !  You  never  wud  hae  spoken  in  that  gate,  a'  your  days,  had  you 
never  kent  me,  and  hearkened  till  me,  when  Nature  lets  me  lowse, 
like  a  water  that  has  been  gettin*  itsell  fed  a'  nicht  far  aff  at  its  source 
amang  the  mun tains,  and  that  a'  at  a(^ce,  when  bits  o'  callants  and 
lassies  are  plouterin'  about  fishin'  for  mennons*  wi'  thread  and 
cruckit  prinsyf  comes  doon  red  and  roarin',  in  spate,  and  gin  the 
bairns  hadna  heard  the  weel-kenned  thunner,  up  aboon  the  linn,  as  it 
approached,  wad  hae  sweepit  them  in  twa-three  hours  frae  Mingan 
to  the  Main,— na,  broken  at  ae  charge  a'  the  squadrons  o'  cavalry 
that  ever  nichered,  frae  queerassears  to  cossacks,  and  made  parks  o' 
artillery  play  spin  like  say  mony  straes  I  Then  how  the  earth-bound 
roots  o'  the  auld  forest  trees  rejoice,  as  oak,  ash,  and  elms  try  in 
vain  to  behold  their  shadows  in  the  turbid  flood !  The  holms  and 
meadows  are  all  overflowed  into  a  hundred  isles — and  the  kirk  is  cut 
Aff  frae  the  main  laun  !  How,  think  ye,  will  the  people  get  to  the 
summer  sacrament  the  mof  n  ?  By  the  morn,  a'  will  be  so  quate 
that  you  will  hear  the  lark  at  his  greatest  heicbt  in  heaven,  and  the 
bit  gowan  you  canna  help  treddin  on,  crunklin'  aneath  your  feet— 
the  earth  below  will  be  greener  than  the  heavens  aboon  are  blue — a' 

•  MnnemSf — minnowa  — M.  f  Pringy — pint. — M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


FLATTERY.  15 

the  waters  will  be  transparent  as  windows  in  shadow,  or  glitter  in' 
like  windows  when  the  sun  glints  on  the  panes, — and  parties  o'  well- 
dressed  people  a'  proceedin  sae  orderly  thegither,  or  here  and  there 
comin*  down  hillsides,  and  out  o'  the  mooths  o'  wee  bit  glens,  anes, 
and  twas,  and  threes,  say  a  man  and  his  wife  and  bairn,  or  a  lassie 
and  her  sweetheart,  or  an  auld  body  wi'  fourscore  on  his  back,  but 
hale  and  hearty  for  a'  that,  comin'  to  worship  by  hirosell,  for  his  wife 
and  family  hae  been  lang  dead,  frae  the  farthest  off  and  maist  lane- 
some  house  in  a'  a  gae  wild  hill  parish,  every  sabbath-day,  as  regu- 
lar as  the  shadow  fa's  on  the  dial,  and  the  kirk-bell  is  rung  by 
drunken  Davy,  wha's  fou  a'  the  week  throu',  but  nane  but  a  leear 
will  say  that  they  ever  saw  him  the  wanr  o'  drink  on  the  Lord's 
day,  and  that's  something — though  but  ane  in  seven. 

Tickler.  Hurra!  hurra!  hurra! 

North.  O,  man,  Hogg,  but  you  are  a  barefaced  "  eemetawtor" 
of  me. 

Shepherd.  That's  the  way  o't.  That's  the  way  that  folks  is  rubbit 
o'  their  oreeginality.  What's  a^  Noctes  withouten  the  Shepherd  ? 
Tell  me  that.  But  you  are  welcome,  sir,  to  be  a  copiawtor  at  times, 
for  there's  nae  denyin'  that  when  you  either  skatche  or  feenish  a£^ 
afler  your  ain  manner,  there's  few  hauns  like  Christopher  North, 
either  ancient  or  modern.  But  excuse  me,  sir,  for  sayin',  that,  about 
the  tenth  tummler  or  sae,  oh,  sir,  you  are  tiresome,  tiresome — 

North.  A  gross  contradiction,  James,  of  that  compliment  you 
paid  me  half  an  hour  ago. 

Tickler.  Claw  me,  and  I'll  claw  you.    Wi,  Jamie — Eh,  Kit? 

Shepherd.  He  that  disna  like  flattery,  is  either  less  or  mair  nor 
man.  It's  the  natural  language  o'  freenship,  and  as  destinck  frae 
flummery  as  a  bee  frae  a  drone,  a  swan  frae  a  guse,  a  bit  bonny 
yellow  meadow-bom  spanking  froggy  frae  an  ugly  carbunkle-backit, 
din,  nettle-crawl  in'  taed.* — a  real  lake  frae  meerage.  What  the 
deevil's  the  use  or  meanin'  o'  a  freen  that  aye  looks  doure  at  you 
whan  you  re  speak  in'  at  you're  verra  best,  and  gie  his  nose  a  snifter, 
and  his  breast  a  grumph,  whan  you're  dune  singin'  and  a'  hauns  but 
his  clappin',  a'  tongues  but  his  roosin  your  voice  to  the  skies — his 
hauns  rooted  intil  the  pocket  o'  his  breeks, — a  hatefu'  attitude, — ^and 
his  tongue  seen  through  his  chafl8,f  as  if  he  were  mookin',  a  insult 
for  which  a  chiel  that's  a  Christian,  ought  to  be  hanged— drawn  and 
quartered,  disseckit, — and  hung  in  chains.  Commend  me  to  freens 
that  flatter  you,  as  it  is  ca'd,  afore  your  face,  and  defend  ye  ahint 
your  back,  and  review  your  books  in  Maga  wi'  a  fine  natural,  nice, 
philosophical  discrimination  o'  poetry — a  deadly  draucht  to  the 
dunces — and  that,  whan  you  are  dead  at  last,  seleck  frae  the  Scrip- 

•  Ta«rf,— toad.— M.  f  CAa/t#,— j»^«-— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


16  N0CTE8  AMBBOSIAN^ 

tures  s  solemn  verse  for  your  yepitaph,  composed  on  some  mild, 
moumfli^  and  melancholy  nicht,  when  memory  grows  wondroos 
bricht  aneath  the  moon  and  stars,  an  elegy  or  hymn  on  your  genius, 
and  on  what's  better  than,  and  o'  mair  avail  than  your  genius 
— your  virtue,  or  I  would  raither  say  your  religion, — and  wha'  wad 
think  naething  o'  pu'in  the  nose  or  kickin'  the  houghs  o'  the  fallow 
that  would  daur  but  to  utter  ae  single  syllable  against  you,  when 
out  o'  sicht  a'thegither  and  forever,  and  just  the  same,  but  for  your 
writings  to  the  warld  still  whurlin'  roun'  and  roun'  on  its  axis,  as  if 
you  had  never  been  born  ! 

North,  Yes, — James, — people  are  proud  of  being  praised  in  Maga 
— for  they  know  that  I  would  scorn  to  prostitute  praise  to  Prince, 
Raesar,  or  King. 

Shepherd,  Brawly  do  they  ken  that,  sir, — and  the  consequence  is, 
that  ye  have  only  to  look  intill  an  author's  face  to  ken  whether  he's 
been  praised  or  no  in  Blackwood.  If  never  mentioned  at  a',  he  pits 
on  a  queer  kind  o'  creeticeesin'  and  dissatisfied  face  at  naming  o' 
The  Periodical,  but's  feared  to  say  ony thing  against  it,  in  case  Mr. 
North  comes  to  hear  o't,  for  hope's  no  yet  quite  dead  within  him, 
and  he  still  keeps  apply  in'  at  head-quarters,  through  the  awgency  o' 
freens,  for  a  notice  in  the  Noctes — if  roosed  to  the  skies,  he  bauds 
up  his  head  like  an  exultin'  heir  o'  immortality,  tryin'  a'  the  time  no 
to  be  ower  proud,  and  sayin'  ceevil  things  to  the  silly — praisin'  ither 
folks  warks — being  far  remoov'd  aboou  envy  or  jealousy  noo— and 
on  an  equality  wi'  a'  writers,  leevin'  or  dead,  but  Sir  Walter — gie'n 
capital  denners, — sittin'  in  a  frunt-seat  o'  a  box  in  the  play-house — 
amaist  houpin'  that  the  pit  will  applaud  him  wi'  a  ruff— aftener  than 
afore,  and  mair  conspicuous  even,  in  his  pew— on  Prince's  street,* 
enveloped  in  a  new  London  great-coat  lined  wi'  silk, — and  kissin* 
his  hand  to  personages  in  chariots,  who  occasionally  return  the  salute 
as  if  they  had  never  seen  him  atween  the  een  afore— but  oh  I  sir, — 
ask  me  not  to  paint  the  face  o'  him  that  has  been  damned ! 

Tickler.  Wheesht — James — wheesht. 

Shepherd,  Yes — I  will  wheesh — for  it's  "  a  face  to  dream  o',"  as 
that  rare  genius  Coleridge  says,  "  no  to  see," — and  I'm  sure,  Mr. 
North,  gin  you  were  to  come  on't  suddenly,  at  the  corner  o'  Picardy,f 
you  wud  loup  out  o'  your  seven  senses. 

North,  It  is  so  long  since  I  have  damned  an  author,  that  the  gen- 
tleman you  allude  to,  James,  must  be  well  stricken  in  years. 

Shepherd,  He's  no  mair  than  forty — to  ma  certain  knowledge— 
and  though  he  never,  to  be  sure,  had  muckle  meanin'  in  the  face  o' 
him,  yet  was  he  a  stout  able-bodied  man,  and  ance  walked  six  miles 
in  an  hour,  tae  and  heel.     Noo  he  seems  several  centuries  auld— 

*  Prince»-iitr«et,  which  U  fonr-fiftht  of  a  mils  in  Ungth,  it  the  priaoip&l,  moct  fMhioBable, 
and  mo«t  picturesqtte  promeBa^ie  in  Edinburj^h. — M. 

t  ricardy  IMace,  -where  wa«  located  A.uibrose*s  now  Hotel. — M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


TEffi  BISHOPS.  17 

just  like  a  tree  that  has  been  staunin'  after  being  barked,  and 
although  a'  covered,  yards  up  frae  the  grun  wi'  nasty  funguses,  and 
sae  sliddery  look  in'  in  its  whiteness,  that  ye  see  at  ance  nae  sailor 
cud  speePt,  yet  has  here  and  there  bits  o'  twigs  that  seem  to  contain 
life  in  them,  but  no  life  aneuch  to  put  forth  leaves,  only  bits  o' 
scraggy,  fushionless,  bluidless  buds,  like  shrivelled  haws,  or  moles, 
— that  is,  deevil-marks, — on  the  arms  and  shouthers  o'  an  auld 
witch.     God  safe  us,  Mr.  North,  if  he  was  to  come  in  the  noo  ! 

North.  Catch  him  coming  within  compass  of  my  crutch,  James, 
Instinct  with  him  now  does  the  work  of  reason. 

Tickler,  \  scarcely  think,  James,  that  you  are  in  your  usual  spirits 
to-night     Come,  be  brilliant. 

Shepherd.  O  man,  Mr.  Tickler,  wha  wud  hae  expectit  sic  a  sump- 
ish  speech  frae  you,  sir  ?  Wha  was  ever  brilliant  at  a  biddln*  f  Bid 
a  sleepin'  fire  bleeze— wull*t?  Na.  But  ripe  the  ribs,  and  then  gie 
the  central  coal  a  smash  wi'  the  poker,  and  lo  I  a  volcano  vomits 
like  Etna  or  Vesuvius. 

Tickler,  After  all,  my  dear  James,  I  believe  the  truth  to  be,  that 
Christmas  is  not  a  merry  season. 

Shepherd,  Aiblins  scairoely  sae  to  men  like  us,  that's  gettin' 
raither  auld.  But  though  no  merry,  it  needna  be  melancholy — for 
after  a'  death,  that  takes  awa'  the  gude — ^a  freen  or  two  drappin* 
awa  ilka  year — ^is  no  so  very  terrible,  except  when  he  comes  to  our 
ain  fireside,  our  ain  bed,  or  our  ain  cradle,  and,  for  my  ain  part,  I 
can  drink,  wi*  an  unpainfu'  tear,  or  without  ony  tear  at  a',  to  the 
memory  o'  them  I  loved  dearly,  naething  doubtin'  that  Heaven  is 
the  trystin'-place  where  all  friends  and  lovers  will  feenally  meet  at 
last,  free  frae  all  jealousies,  and  heart-burnings,  and  sorrows,  and 
angers — ^say,  why  should  our  Christmas  be  melancholy,  though  we 
three  have  buried  some  that  last  year  lauched,  and  sang,  and 
danced  in  our  presence,  and  because  of  our  presence ;  and  looked  as 
if  they  had  been  dentined  for  a  lang  lang  life'? 

North,  What  mortality  among  the  English  Bishops,  James,  this 
year! 

Sh^herd,  An  English  Bishop  maun  hate  to  dee,  proud  as  he  is 
o'  himseir  and  his  cathedral,  wi'  his  poothered  weeg,*  his  balloon 
sleeves,  his  silk  petticoats,  and  his  fearsome  income — ^a  domestic 
chaplain,  wha's  only  a  better  sort  o'  a  flunkey,  aye  booin'  and  booin, 
at  every  word  the  Spiritual  Lord  says,  and 

*  In  the  tix-and-tireiity  yean  which  have  elaMed  lince  theie  words  wen  put  iBto  Hoffg*s 
month,  a  change  has  passed  over  the  hierarchy  of  Great  Britain.  The  powdered  wig  has  fallen 
into  dirase,  the  lawn-sleeres  are  worn  only  in  church  or  in  Parliament,  (the  bishops  being 
Spiritual  Lords,  by  virtne  or  their  sees,)  the  black  silk-pettieoat  has  dwindled  down  to  a  short 
apron,  and  though  Durham.  London  and  Winchester,  (with  the  Archbishoprics)  hare  larger  in- 
comes, albeit  much  le«  than  in  1B23,  the  emoluments  of  the  other  sees  are  limited  to  £4000  a 
year  Cor  each  bishop.  To  tbis  is  added  a  mansion  (called  'The  Palace")  and  its  surrounding 
grounds.    Some  of  the  Bishops  also  hold  chnrch-lirings,  in  comvundam. — M. 

Vol.  III.— 3 


Digitized  by 


Google 


18  NOCTES  AMBRO&UJif^ 

North,  James! — I  am  delighted,  Tickler,  to  see  Coplestone  a 
Bishop ;  not  an  abler,  better  man  in  England.*  Talent  and  inte- 
grity are,  now  a-days,  sure  to  make  their  way  to  the  bench;  and  it 
is  thus  that  the  church  establishment  of  England  will  stand  like  a 
rock. 

Tickler,  The  Edinburgh  Review  entertains  singular  opinions  od 
Coplestone.  One  number  he  is  a  barn-door  fowl,  another  a 
finished  scholar ;  now  a  retromingent  animal,  then  a  first-rate  theo- 
logian, metaphysician,  and  political  economist — he  soon  afterwards 
degenerates  into  a  third-rate  man,  and  finally  into  an  old  woman, 
afraid  of  Catholic  emancipation,  and  preaching  prosy  sermons,  smell- 
ing of  orthodoxy  and  dotage.  What  do  the  blockheads  mean. 
North? 

Shepherd.  Sumphs,  sumphs,  indeed.  But  do  you  ken,  in  spite  o' 
that  I'm  just  desperate  fond  o'  Christmas  minshed  pies.  Sirs — in  a 
bonny  bleeze  of  brandy,  bumin'  blue  as  snap-dragon — I  can  devoor 
a  dizzen. 

Tickler.  Christmas  geese  are  prime  birds,  James,  with  onions  and 
sage  sufficient,  and  each  mouthful  accompanied  by  its  contingent  of 
rich  red  apple-sauce. 

Shepherd.  A  guse  aye  gi*es  me  the  colic — ^yet  I  canna  help  eatin't 
for  a'  that — for  whan  there's  nae  sin  nor  iniquity,  it's  richt  and  rea- 
sonable to  purchase  pleasure  at  the  expense  o'  pain.  I  like  to  eat 
a'  sorts  o'  land  or  fresh- water  wild  fools — and  eke  the  eggs.  Pease- 
weeps'  eggsf  is  capital  poached. 

Tickler.  James,  whether  do  you  like  eating  or  drinking  best?  Is 
hunger  or  thirst  the  preferable  appetite  ? 

Shepherd.  Why,  you  see,  I,  for  ane,  never  eat  but  when  I'm  hun- 
gry— and  hunger's  soon  satisfied  if  you  hae  plenty  o'  vittals.  Compare 
that  wi'  drinkin'  when  you're  th rusty — either  clear  well-water,  or 
sour  milk,  or  sma'  vili,  or  porter,  or  speerits  half-and-half,  and  then 
I  wud  say  that  eatin  and  driukin's  pretty  much  of  a  muchness — very 
nearly  on  a  par,  wi*  this  difference,  that  hunger,  wi*  me  's  never  sae 
intense  as  thrust.  I  never  was  sae  hungry  that  I  wud  hae  devoured 
a  bane  frae  the  gutter,  but  1  hae  aden  been  sae  thrusty,  on  the 
mures,  that  I  hae  drank  black  moss-water,  wi'  a  green  scum  on't 
without  scunnerin'. 

North.  I  never  was  hungry  in  my  life. 

Shepherd.   That's  a  confounded  lee,  sir,  beg^in'  your  pardon  — ^ 

North.  No  offence,  James— but  the  instant  f  begin  to  eat,  my  ap- 
petite is  felt  to  be  excellent. 

*  Dr.  Edward  Coplokioo*  waAeducaUd  at  Oxford,  where  he  i^reatly  dictinc^ished  himself.  In 
1836,  he  was  made  Dean  of  St.  Paurs,  and  wan  made  Bivhop  of  Landaff,  in  lhC8,  on  the  trans- 
lation of  Dr.  Sumner  (Archbishop  of  Canterbury  in  1S>4)  to  the  see  of  Chester.  He  Hied  in 
IM9.  Besides  contri bating  iar^ely  to  the  (Quarterly  Review,  he  published  polemical  pam- 
phieU,  as  well  ascliarge«  and  sermons.— M. 

t  Picjie-teeeps  (fj^ir,— -lapping's  ^g)(8. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


**1HE  TICK  DOLLOEOOSE."  19 

Shepherd,  Felt  and  seen  baith,  sir.  A  howtowdie's*  a  mere 
laverockf  to  you,  sir,  on  the  day  the  Magazine's  finished  aff — and 
Mr.  Awmrose  himsell  canna  help  lauchin*  at  the  relays  o'  het  beef 
steaks  that  ye  keep  yokin'  to,  wi'  pickled  ingons  or  shallotts,  and 
spoonfu's  o'  Dickson's  mustard,  that  wud  be  aneuch  to  blin'  a  lynx. 
Tickler.  I  have  lost  my  appetite 

Shepherd.  I  howp  nae  puir  man  '11  find  it,  now  that  wages  is  low 
and  wark  scarce — but  drinkin',  you  see,  Mr.  North,  has  this  great 
advantage  over  eatin',.that  ye  may  drink  a'  nicht  lang  without  being 
thrusty — tummler  after  tunimler— jug  after  jug — bowl  after  bowl — 
as  lang's  you're  no  sick — and  you're  better  worth  sittin'  wi*  at  ten 
than  at  aught,  and  at  twal  than  at  ten,  and  during  the  sma'  hours, 
you're  just  intolerable  gude  company — scarcely  bearable  at  a',  ane 
waxes  sae  truly  "wutty  and  out  o'  a'  measure  deevertin' ;  whereas,  I'll 
^efy  ony  man,  the  best  natural  and  acquired  glutton  that  ever  was 
born  and  bred  at  the  feet  o'  a  father  that  gaed  afif  at  a  city -feast  wi' 
a  gob  o'  green  fat  o'  turtle  halfway  down  his  gullet,  in  an  apoplexy, 
to  carry  on  the  eatin'  wi'  ony  spunk  or  speerit  after  three  or  four 
<K>orses,  forbye  toasted  cheese,  and  roasted  chestnuts,  and  a  dessert 
o'  filberts,  prunes,  awmons,  and  raisins,  ginger-frute,  guava  jeely, 
and  ither  Wast  Indian  preserves.  The  cretur  cowpsj  ower  coma- 
tose. But  only  tak  tent  no  to  roar  ower  loud  and  lang  in  speakin' 
or  singin',  and  you  may  drink  awa  at  the  Glenlivet  till  past  mid- 
night, and  weel  on  to  the  morning  o'  the  day  after  to-morrow. 

Tickler.  Next  to  the  British,  Hogg,  I  know  no  such  constitution 
as  yours — so  fine  a  balance  of  powers,  I  daresay,  you  never  had  an 
hour's  serious  illness  in  your  life. 

Shepherd.  That's  a'  you  ken — and  the  observe  comes  weel  frae 
you  that  hegaxi  the  nicht  wi'  giein'  the  club  my  death-like  prognosis. 

Tickler.   Prognosis? 

Shepherd,  Simtoms  like.  This  back-end |  I  had,  a'  three  at  ance, 
the  Tick  Dollaroose,  the  Angeena  Pectoris,  and  the  Janndice. 

North.  James — James — .Jaraes! 

Tickler,  Hogg — Hogg — Hogg ! 

Shepherd.  I  never  fan'  ony  pain  lik«  the  Tick  Dollaroose.  Ane's 
no  accustomed  to  a  pain  in  the  face.  For  the  toothach's  in  the  in- 
side o'  the  mouth,  no  in  the  face ;  and  you've  nae  idea  hoo  sensi- 
tive's the  face.  Cheeks  are  a'  fu'  o'  nerves — and  the  Tick  attacks 
the  hail  bunch  t>'  them,  screwing  them  up  to  sic  a  pit<5h  o'  tension 
that  you  canna  help  soreechin'  out,  like  a  thousand  ools,  and  clappin 
the  pawms  o'  your  bauds  to  your  distrackit  chafts,  and  rowin'  your- 
sell  on  the  floor  on  your  grooff,§  wi'  your  hair  on  end,  and  your  een 
on  fire,  and  general  muscular  convulsion  in  a'  your  sinnies,  sae 

•  Howtowdu^ — a  turkey,    f  Laverock, — a  lark.    %  Covpa, — fella.    |i  Baek-end^ — of  the  year, 
meam  its  close.    $  f7ro«j/,— the  sitting  portion  of  the  person. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


20  KOCTTES  AMBBOSIANiB. 

piercin',  and  searchin',  and  scrutinising  and  diggin*,  and  bbukin',  and 
tearin'  is  the  pangfu*  pain  that  keeps  eatin'  awa  and  manglin'  the 
nerves  o'  your  human  face  divine.  Draps  o'  sweat,  as  big  as  beads 
for  the  neck  or  arms  o'  a  lassie,  are  pourin'  doun  to  the  verra  floor, 
so  that  the  folk  that  hears  you  roarin'  thinks  you're  greetin',  and 
you're  aye  afterwards  considered  a  baimly  chiel  through  the  hail 
kintra.  In  ane  o'  the  sudden  fits  I  gruppit  sic  baud  o'  a  grape*  that 
I  was  helpin'  our  Shushey  to  muck  the  byref  wi',  that  it  withered  in 
my  fingers  like  a  frush  saugh-wand]; — and  'twould  hae  been  the 
same,  had  it  been  a  bar  o'  iron.  Only  thuik  o*  the  Tick  Dallaroose 
in  a  man's  face  continuing  to  a'  eternity ! 

North,  Or  even  a  few  million  ages 

Shepherd,  Angeena  Pectoris,  is  even  waur,  if  waur  may  be,  than 
Tick  Dollaroose.  Some  say  it's  an  ossified  condition  o'  the  coronary 
arteries  o*  the  heart;  but  that's  no  necessarily  true — for  there's 
nae  ossification  o'  these  arterial  branches  o'  my  heart  But,  oh ! 
sirs,  the  fit's  deadly,  and  maist  like  till  death.  A'  at  once,  espe- 
cially if  you  be  walkin'  up-hill,  it  comes  on  you  like  the  shadow  o' 
a  thundercloud  ower  smilin'  natur,  silencin'  a'  the  singin'  birds, 
as  if  it  threatened  earthquake, — ^and  you  canna  doubt  that  your  last 
hour  is  come,  and  that  your  sowl  is  about  to  be  demanded  of  you 
by  its  Maker.  However  aften  you  may  have  it,  you  aye  feel  and 
believe  that  it  is,  this  time — death.  It  is  a  sort  o'  swoon,  without 
loss  o'  sense — a  dwawni,|  in  which  there  still  is  consciousness — a 
stoppage  o'  a'  the  animal  functions,  even  o'  breathin'  itsell ;  which, 
if  I'm  no  mista'en,  is  the  meaning  o'  a  syncope — and  a'  the  while 
something  is  rug-ruggin'  at  the  heart  itself,  something  cauld  and 
ponderous,  amaist  like  the  fore-finger  and  thoom  a'  a  heavy  haun 
— ihe  haun  o'  an  evil  spirit ;  and  then  you  expeck  that  your  heart 
is  to  rin  doun,  just  like  a  clock,  wi'  a  dull  cloggy  noise,  or  rumble 
like  that  o'  disarranged  machinery,  and  then  to  beat,  to  tick  nae 
mair !  The  collapse  is  dreadfu'.  Ay,  Mr.  North,  collapse  is  the 
word. 

North,  Consult  Uwins  on  Indigestion,  James — the  best  medical 
work  I  have  read  for  years,  of  a  popular,  yet  scientific  character. 

Shepherds  Noo  for  the  Jaundice.  The  Angeena  Pectoris,  the  Tick 
Dollaroose,  are  intermittent — "like  angel  visits,  few  and  far  be- 
tween " — but  the  Jaundice  lasts  for  weeks,  when  it  is  gatherin'  or 
brewin'  in  the  system — for  weeks  at  its  yellowest  heidit, — and  for 
weeks  as  the  disease  is  ebbin'  in  the  blood — a  disease,  if  I'm  no  sair 
mista'en,  o'  the  liver. 

North,  An  obstructed  condition  of  the  duodenum,  James 

Shepherd.  The  mental  depression  o'  the  sowl  in  the  jaundice  is 

*  Ormf,  —  dung-lbrk.       t  Byrtf,— oow-lipiiM.       t  SMfA-vontf,— callow   or   wlllaw-muid. 
I  Di0uwn—%  8W0O0.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


"the  jakkdicb."  21 

maist  truly  dreadfu'.  It  would  hae  sunk  Sampson  on  the  morning 
o'  the  day  that  he  hore  aff  on  his  back  the  gates  o'  Gaza. 

Tickler.  Tell  us  all  about  it,  James. 

Shepherd,  You  begin  to  hate  and  be  sick  o'  things  that  used  to  be 
maist  delightfu' — sic  as  the  sky,  and  streams,  and  hills,  and  the  ee 
and  Toice,  and  haun  and  breast  o'  woman.  You  dauner*  about  the 
doors,  dour  and  dowie,  and  are  seen  sittin'  in  nyeucks  and  corners, 
whare  there's  little  licht,  no  mindin'  the  cobwabs,  or  the  spiders 
themselves  drappin'  down  amang  your  unkempt  hair.  You  hae  nae 
appeteet ;  and  if  by  ony  chance  you  think  you  could  tak  a  mouthfu* 
o'  a  particular  dish,  you  splutter't  out  again,  as  if  it^were  bitter 
ashes.  You  canna  say  that  youVe  unco  ill  either,  but  just  a  wee 
sickish — ^tongue  fiirry  as  if  you  had  been  licking  a  muff  or  a  mawkin 
— and  you  observe,  frae  folk  staunin'  weel  back  when  you  happen 
to  speak  to  them — which  is  no  aflen — that  your  breath's  bad,  though  a 
week  before  it  was  as  callerf  as  clover.  You  snore  mair  than  you 
sleep— and  dream  wi*  your  een  open — ugly,  confused,  mean,  stupit, 
unimaginative  dreams,  like  those  o'  a  drunk  dunce  imitatin'  a  Noctes 
— and  that's  about  the  warst  thing  o'  a'  the  complaints,  that  you're 
ashamed  o'  yourseP,  and  begin  to  fear  that  you  re  no  the  man  you 
ance  thocht  yoursel',  when  in  health  shootin'  groose  on  the  hills,  or 
listerin*  sawmon.J 

North,  The  jaundice  that,  James,  of  a  man  of  genius — of  the 
author  of  the  Queen's  Wake. 

Shepherd,  Wad  ye  believe  it,  sir,  that  I  was  ashamed  of  Kil- 
meny  ?  A'  the  poems  I  ever  writ  seemed  trash — rubbish — fuilzie 
— and  as  for  my  prose — even  my  verra  articles  in  Maga — Shep- 
herd's Calendar  and  a' — waxed  havers|| — like  something  in  the 
Metropolitan  Quarterly  Magazine,  the  stupidest  o'  a'  created  pe- 
riodicals,  and  now  deader  than  a'  the  nails  in  Nebuchadnezzar's 
coffin. 

North,  The  disease  must  have  been  at  its  climax  then,  my  dear 
James. 

Shepherd.  Na,  na,  na ;  it  was  far  frae  the  cleemax.  I  tuk  to  the 
bed,  and  never  luckit  out  frae  the  coortains  for  a  fortnight — gettin* 
glummier  and  glummier  in  sense  and  sowl,  heart,  mind,  body,  and 
estate — eatin'  little  or  naething,  and — wud  ye  believe  it  ? — sick,  and 
like  to  scunner  at  the  verra  name  o'  whusky. 

North.  Thank  God,  I  knew  nothing  of  all  this,  James.  I  could 
not  have  borne  the  thought,  much  less  the  sight,  of  such  total  pros- 
tration, or  rather  perversion,  of  your  understanding. 

Shepherd,  Wearied  and  worn  out  wi'  lyin'  in  the  bed,  I  got  up 
wi'  some  sma'  assistance  frae  wee  Jamie,  God  bless  him  !  and  telt 

♦ />««!»«— loiter.    ^  Caller -(nth.    t /-wl«rtiv— •p«Ariiig  lalmon.    ||  f/^«i?rr#— idle  t»lk.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


22  NOCTES  AMBEOSIAN-fi. 

them  to  open  the  shutters.  What  a  sieht !  A.*  faces  as  yellow's 
yellow  lilies,  like  the  parchment  o'  an  auld  druin-heod  !  Ghastly 
were  they,  ane  and  a',  whan  they  leuch  ;  yet  seemed  insensible  o' 
their  corp-like  hue — I  mean,  a  corp  that  has  died  o'  some  unnatural 
disease,  and  been  keepit  ower  lang  abune  graun'  in  close  weather, 
the  carpenter  having  gotten  drunk,  and  botched  the  coffin.  I  ca'd 
for  the  glass — and  my  ain  face  was  the  warst  o'  the  hail  set.  Whites 
o'  een  !  They  were  the  color  o'  dandelions,  or  yellow  yoldrins.  I 
was  feared  to  wash  my  face,  lest  the  water  grew  ochre.  That  the 
jaundice  was  in  the  house  was  plain  ;  but  whether  it  was  me  only 
that  had  it,  or  a'  the  rest  likewise,  was  mair  than  I  cud  tell.  That 
the  yellow  I  saw  wasna  in  them,  but  in  me,  was  hard  to  believe, 
when  I  lucketon  them  ;  yet  I  thochton  green  specks,  and  the  stained 
wundows  in  Windermere  Station,  and  reasoned  wi'  m^seP  that  the 
discoloration  must  be  in  my  lens,  or  pupil,  or  optic  nerve,  or  apple, 
or  ba*  o'  the  ee ;  and  that  1,  James  Hogg,  the  Ettrick  Shepherd,  was 
The  Jaundice. 

Tickler,  Your  portrait,  colored  from  nature,  James,  would  have 
been  inestimable  in  after  ages,  and  given  rise  to  much  argument 
among  the  learned  about  your  origin — the  country  of  your  birth. 
You  must  have  looked  cousin-german  to  the  Green  Man  and  Still.* 

Shepherd,  I  stoittered  to  the  door,  and,  just  as  I  feared,  the  Yar- 
row was  as  yellow  as  a  rotten  egg — a'  the  holms  the  color  o'  a 
Cockney's  play-going  gloves — the  skies,  like  the  dirty  ochre,  wa's  o' 
a  change-house — the  cluds  like  buckskin  breeks — and  the  sun,  the 
michty  sun  himself,  wha  lends  the  rainbow  its  hues,  and  is  never  the 
poorer,  looked  at  me  with  a  disconsolate  aspeck,  as  much  as  to  say, 
**  James,  James,  is  it  thou  or  I  that  has  the  janndice  I" 

Tickler,  Better  than  the  best  bits  of  Abeniethy  in  the  Lancet,f 
North. 

Shepherd.  Just  as  I  was  gaun  to  answer  the  Sun,  the  Tick  Dol- 
laroose  attacked  baith  o*  my  cheeks — ^a'  my  face,  lips,  chin,  nose, 
brow,  lugs,  and  crown  and  back  o'  my  head, — the  Angeena  Pectoris 
brought  on  the  Heart-Collapse, — and  there  the  three,  the  Tick,  the 
Angeena,  and  the  Janndice,  a'  fell  on  me  at  ance,  like  three  English, 
Scotch,  and  Eerish  regiments  storm  in'  a  fort,  and  slaughterin'  their 
way  wi*  the  beggonet  on  to  the  citadel. 

North,  That  you  are  alive  at  this  blessed  hour,  my  dearest  James, 
almost  exceeds  belief,  and  I  begin  to  suspect  that  you  are  not  flesh 
and  blood, — a  mere  Appearance. 

*The  Green  Man  and  Still  it  a  farorite  name  for  inns  in  and  near  London.  A  French 
traveller,  who  was  at  the  celebrated  house  of  this  name  at  Blackheath.  dated  his  letter  from 
the  "  hotel  tie  r Homme  vert  et  /r«»yiri//e."— M. 

t  Mr.  Abernethy,  the  eminent  lecturer,  complained  much  of  the  Lancet,  (a  London  period- 
ical then  and  yet  in  exleneive  circulation.)  for  iis  giving  vrriatim  reports  of  his  clever  and  very 
amuring  lectures  at  Barlholmnw^s  Ilos|iital. — JVl. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


BE(X)VERr.  23 

Shepherd.  Na,  faith,  am  a  reality :  an  Appearance  is  a  puir  haun 
at  a  jug.  Yet,  sir,  the  recovery  was  weel  worth  a*  I  paid  for  it  in 
suffering.  The  first  time  I  went  out  to  the  knowe  yonner,  aboon 
the  garden,  and  gazed  and  glowered,  and  better  gazed  and  glowered, 
on  the  heavens,  the  earth,  and  the  air,  the  three  bein'  blent  the- 
gither  to  mak  up  that  mysterious  thing — a  Day  o'  Grlory — I  thocht 
that  my  youth,  like  that  o'  the  sun-staring  eagle,  had  been  renewed, 
and  that  I  was  ance  mair  in  the  verra  middle  o'  the  untamed  licht 
and  music  o'  this  life,  whan  a'  is  fancy  and  imagination,  and  friend- 
ship and  love,  and  houp,  oh,  houp,  sii,  houp,  worth  a'  the  ither 
blisses  ever  sent,  frae  Heaven  like  a  shower  o'  sunbeams,  for  it 
canna  be  darkenit,  far  less  put  out  by  the  mirkest  midnight  o' 
meesery,  but  keeps  shinin'  on  like  a  star,  or  rather  like  the  moon 
herseP,  a  spiritual  moon,  sir,  that  ^^  is  never  hid  in  vacant  interlunar 
cave." 

Tickler.  Mixed  metaphors  these,  James. 

Shepherd.  Nane  the  waur  o'  that,  Timothy — I  felt  about  ane-and- 
twunty — and,  oh,  what  an  angelical  being  was  a  lassie  then  com  in' 
wadin'  through  the  ford  !  At  every  step  she  took,  after  launin'  wi* 
her  white  feet,  havin*  letten  doun  fa'  her  cloud-like  clase  wi'  a 
blush,  as  she  keepit  lookin'  roun'  and  roun'  for  a  whileock,  to  see 
gin  ony  ee  had  been  on  her,  as  her  limbs  came  silvery  in'  through 
the  water 

North.  The  ladies,  James,  in  a  bumper. 

Shepherd.  The  1  eddies  1  A  track  o'  flowers  keepit  lenthenin' 
along  the  greensward  as  she  wauked  awa,'  at  last,  quite  out  o' 
sight. 

Tickler.  And  this  you  call  recovering  from  the  Tic  Doloureux, 
the  Angina  Pectoris,  and  the  Jaundice,  James  % 

Shepherd.  Few  roses  are  there  about  Mount  Benger,  and  nae 
honey-suckle  ;  and,  at  the  time  I  speak  o',  the  field-peas  and  beans 
werena  in  bloom  ;  yet  a'  the  hollow  o'  the  air  was  filled  wi'  sweet- 
ness, mair  like  than  ony  thing  else  to  the  smell  o*  thyme,  and  sic  a 
scent  would  hae  tauld  a  blin*  man  that  he  was  breathin*  in  paradise. 
The  shapes  o'  the  few  trees  that  grew  on  that  part  o'  the  Yarrow, 
became  mair  gracefii',  and  the  trees  themsells  seemed  as  if  leevin' 
creturs  when  the  breeze  came  near  them,  and  shook  their  tresses 
in  the  moonshine,  like  lasses  lettin'  out  their  hair  to  dry,  after  they 
hae  been  bathin'  in  some  shady  linn,  and  lauchiu*  about  their  sweet- 
hearts. 

Tickler.  James,  you  cannot  get  rid  of  your  besetting  imagery. 

Shepherd.  Slawly,  slawly  did  I  fa*  back  into  mysell — into  a  man 
o'  fifty  and  some  few  years  mair,  into  something  duller,  deader, 
mair  obscure — yet  no  unhappy  either,  or  inclined  to  utter  ony  com- 
plaints, but  still  owerburdened  by  a  dimness,  maist  a  darkness  o' 


Digitized  by 


Google 


I 


24  NOCTES  AMBBOBIAN^ 

soul — and  weel,  weel  aware,  that  though  you  were  to  crown  mj 
brow  wi'  the  garlands  o'  glory,  and  to  set  a  diadem  on  the  crown 
o'  ray  head,  and  for  Prime  Minister  to  give  me  Power,  and  Health 
for  my  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer,  and  Pleasure  for  Home  Secre- 
tary, never,  never,  never  could  James  Hogg  be  what  he  ance  was ; 
nor,  as  lang  as  he  leeves,  enjoy  as  much  happiness,  put  it  a'the- 
gither,  and  multiply  it  by  decimals,  as  used  lang,  lang  ago  aflen  to 
be  crooded  into  ae  single  hour,  till  I  thocht  my  verra  heart  would 
hae  burst  wi'  bliss,  and  that  the  stars  o*  heaven,  pure  as  they  are, 
burned  dim  with  envy  of  us  twa  beneath  the  milk*white  thorn,  the 
try  sting  thorn  for  the  Flowers  o'  the  Forest,  for  countless  genera- 
tions. 

Enter  Mr.  Ambrosb,  with  Copper-Kettle,  No,  1. 

North.  Who  rung? 

Ambrose,  I  have  taken  note  of  the  time  of  the  last  four  jugs,  sir, 
and  have  found  that  each  jug  gains  ten  minutes  on  its  predecessor 
— so  ventured 

Shepherd,  Oh.  Mr.  Ambrose,  but  you  wud  be  a  gran'  observer  o* 
the  motions  o'  the  heavenly  bodies,  in  an  Astronomical  Observatory ! 
The  jug's  this  moment  dead.  There — in  wi'  a'  the  sugar,  and  a*  the 
whusky, — fill  up,  Awmrose,  fill  up !  That  stroop*s  a  gran'  pourer, 
and  you're  a  prime  experimenter  in  hydrostatics. 

(Exit  Mr.  Ambrose,  eusurrans.) 

Tickler,  You  knew  the  late  Malcolm  Gillespie  of  Crombie  Cot- 
tage, I  think,  James  ?     He  died  game. 

Shepherd,  Only  middlin'.  He  had  a  cross  o'  the  dunghill  in  him 
— which  is  the  case  wi'  a'  the  cruel. 

North,  He  should  not  have  got  faint  in  the  Court  House.  On  Uie 
scaffold  his  behavior  was  firm  enough ;  and  . 

Shepherd,  He  was  an  infamous  ruflian — and  mony  a  prime  worm 
he  broke — mony  a'  sweet-workin'  stell, — and  much  he  bragged  of 
his  duty  and  his  daring— but  a*  the 'while  the  fearless  reprobate  was 
livin'  on  forgery  ;  and,  feenally,  naething  wud  satisfy  him  but  to 
burn  the  hoube  o*  sin  by  the  hauns  o'  his  abandoned  limmers.  Yet 
be  declared  before  Grod  that  he  died — innocent. 

North,  It  is  said  that  high  interest  was  used  to  procure  a  com- 
mutation of  his  punishment.  I  hope  not.  No  man  wh«  knew 
right  from  wrong,  would  have  dared  to  put  his  hand  to  a  petition 
for  mercy  to  such  a  profligate  and  hardened  villain.  Pardon  would, 
in  his  case,  have  been  defiance  of  justice — the  triumph  of  vice,  crime, 
and  iniquity,  over  the  laws.  But  there  are  people  who  will  petition 
for  the  forfeited  life  of  a  felon,  a  forger,  and  an  incendiary,  who  will 
be  shy  of  subscribing  a  pound  for  the  relief  of  the  blind,  aged  widow, 
who,  industrious  as  long  as  she  saw  Heaven's  light,  is  now  a  palsied 
but  uncomplaining  pauper. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


OUABITY.  3& 

Tickler.  Nothing  seems  much  clearer  to  me,  sir,  than  the  natural 
direction  of  charity.  Would  we  all  but  relieve,  according  to  the 
measure  of  our  means,  those  objects  immediately  within  the  range 
of  our  personal  knowledge,  how  much  of  the  worst  evil  of  poverty 
might  be  alleviated  !  Very  poor  people,  who  are  known  to  us  to 
have  been  honest,  decent,  and  industrious,  when  industry  was  in 
their  power,  have  a  claim  on  us,  founded  on  that  our  knowledge, 
and  on  vicinity  and  neighborhood,  which  have  in  themselves  some- 
thing sacred  and  endearing  to  every  good  heart.  One  cannot, 
surely,  always  pass  by,  in  his  walks  for  health,  restoration,  or  de- 
light, the  lone  wayside  beggar,  without  occasionally  giving  him  an 
alms.  Old,  care-worn,  pale,  drooping,  and  emaciated  creatures,  who 
pass  us  by  without  looking  beseechingly  at  us,  or  even  lifting  their 
eyes  from  the  ground — cannot  often  be  met  with,  without  exciting 
an  interest  in  us  for  their  silent  and  unobtrusive  suflferings  or  priva- 
tions. A  hovel,  here  and  there,  round  and  about  our  comfortable 
dwelling,  attracts  our  eyes  by  some  peculiar  appearance  of  penury 
— and  we  look  in,  now  and  then,  upon  its  inmates,  cheering  their 
cold  gloom  with  some  small  benefaction.  These  are  duties  all  meu 
owe  to  distress ;  they  are  easily  discharged,  and  even  such  tender 
mercies  as  these  are  twice  blessed. 

Shepherd.  Oh,  sir,  you  speak  weel.  I  like  you  when  you're 
wutty — I  admire  you  when  youVe  wise — I  love  and  venerate  you 
when  youVe  good — and  what  greater  goodness  can  there  be  in  a 
world  like  this  than  charity  ? 

Tickler.  But  then,  my  worthy  friend,  for  one  man  to  interfere 
with  another's  charities  is  always  delicate — nay,  dangerous ;  for  how 
can  the  benevolent  stranger,  who  comes  to  me  to  solicit  my  aid  to 
some  poor  &mily,  whose  necessities  he  wishes  to  relieve,  know 
either  my  means,  or  the  claims  that  already  lie  upon  me,  and  which 
I  am  doing  my  best  to  discharge  1  He  asks  me  for  a  guinea — a 
small  sum  as  he  think%— the  hour  afler  I  have  given  two  to  a  bed- 
ridden father  of  a  large  &mily,  to  save  his  bed  and  bed-clothes  from 
being  sold  at  the  Cross. 

Shepherd.  But  you  maunna  be  angry  at  him — unless  he*s  impu- 
dent— and  duns  you  for  his  donation.     That's  hard  to  thole. 

Tickler.  Yet,  am  I  to  apologize  to  him — uninformed,  or  misin- 
formed, as  he  is  about  me  and  mine — for  not  drawing  my  purse- 
strings  at  his  solicitation  ?  Am  I  to  explain  how  it  happens  that  I 
cannot  comply — ^to  tell  him  that,  in  fact,  1  am  at  that  moment  poor  ? 
He  b  not  entitled  to  hold  such  a  colloquy  with  me — ^yet,  if  I  simply 
say,  "  Sir,  I  must  refuse  your  petition,"  he  probably  condemns  me 
as  a  heartless  hunks — an  unmerciful  miser — and,  among  his  friends, 
does  not  abstain  from  hints  on  my  selfish  character. 

Shepherd,  lliere's,  for  the  maist  part,  I  am  willing  to  believe,  a 


Digitized  by 


Google 


26  N0CTE8  AMSB061AKM. 

6pice  o'  goodness  about  the  greater  number  even  m  the  gadders 
about  wi'  subscription  papers. 

Tickler.  But  a  spice,  James,  is  not  enough.  Their  motires  are  of 
too  mixed  a  kind.  Vanity,  idleness,  mere  desire  to  escape  ennui, 
curiosity  even,  and  a  habit  of  busy-bodyism,  which  is  apt  to  grow 
on  persons  who  have  no  very  strong  ties  of  affection  binding  them 
to  home,  do  sadly  impair  the  beauty  of  beneficence. 

Shepherd.  They  do  that — ^yet  in  a  great  populous  city*  like  Em- 
bro',  much  good  must  oflen  be  done  by  diari table  people  formin* 
themselves  into  associations — findin*  out  the  deserving  poor,  gettin' 
siller  subscribed  for  them,  visitin'  them  in  Cheir  ain  houses,  espe- 
cially in  the  winter  time,  sir,  giein*  them  a  cart  o'  coals,  or  a  pair  o* 
blankets,  or  some  worsted  stockens,  and  so  on — for  a  sma'  thing  is 
aften  a  great  help  to  them  just  hangin'  on  the  edge  o'  want ;  and  a 
meal  o'  meat  set  afore  a  hungry  family,  wha  hadna  expeckit  to 
break  their  fast  that  day,  not  only  fills  their  stamachs,  puir  sowls, 
but  warms  their  verra  hearts,  banishin'  despair,  as  by  a  God-gift, 
and  awaukenin*  hope,  that  had  expired  alang  wi*  the  last  spark  on 
the  ashy  hearth. 

Tickler.  Give  me  your  hand,  James.  James,  your  health — God 
bless  you — certainly  a  young  lady— or  a  middle-aged  one  either — 
never  looks  better — so  well — as  when  in  prudence  and  meekness 
she  seeks  to  cheer  with  charity  the  hovels  of  the  poor.  I  know 
several  such — and  though  they  may  too  often  be  cheated  and  im- 
posed on— that  is  not  their  fault — and  the  discharge  of  a  Christian 
duty  cannot  &il  of  being  accompanied  by  a  great  overbalance  of 
good. 

Shepherd.  Oh  man  !  Mr.  Tickler — but  you  hae  a  maist  pleasant 
hce  the  noo — you*re  a  real  gude  cretur — and  I  wad  fling  a  glass  o' 
het  water  in  the  £Eu:e  o'  ony  body  that  wad  daur  to  speak  ill  o'  a 
single  letter  in  your  name.  Is't  no  time,  think  ye,  sir,  to  be  rin^n' 
for  the  eisters  1 — I  hear  them  com  in' ! — ^That  cretur  Awmrose  nas 
the  power  o'  divination  ! 

{^ter  Mb.  Ambrosb,  his  brother  from  OabrieVt  Boad,  the 
Two  Stepbbms,  Tappttooris,  and  Knro  Pspih,  each  with  a 
board  of  oysters.) 

Tickler.  Fat,  fair,  and  fihy. 

Shepherd.  What  desperate  breedy  beasts  eisters  maun  be, — for 
they  tell  me  that  Embro'  devoors  a  hunder  thousand  every  day. 
North.  Why,  James,  that  is  only  about  two  oysters  to  every 

*  Twelre  hundred  yemn  ago,  the  ptxt  of  Scotland  which  bow  ooDtaina  its  meoopoUs  waa 
attached  to  what  was  the  KinEdom  of  ^orthumbria.  Edwin,  the  raler  of  that  kingdom,  built  a 
fori  on  the  rooky  height  on  which  the  Castle  now  standi.  Uencf  aroee  the  name  Kdwin*«* 
burgh,  or  Edinbvroh,  sometimes  diminished  to  £mbro\  The  Celtic  name  of  the  eitj  is  DuinR> 
oiN,  iignifying  the  Hill  of  Edwin.—M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


THB  OATTLB  SHOW.  27 

three  mouths.  I  am  happy  to  see  from  their  condition,  that  the 
oyster  population  is  not  pressing  too  hard  on  the  means  of  subsist- 
ence, lliey  will  be  spared  the  report  from  the  Emigration  Com- 
mittee. 

Shepherd,  Tak'  them,  right  and  left,  sir, — this  way, — first  frae  ae 
brodd,  and  then  frae  anither— crossin'  hauns  like  a  young  leddy 
playin'  a  kittle  piece  on  the  piawno.  Tappytoorie — some  pots  o^ 
porter.  I  think  I  see  a  cauld  roon'  o'  beef  ower  by  yonner  on  the 
sideboard,  lowerin'  amang  a  fillet  o'  veal,*  a  pie  and  a  pasty,  a  how- 
towddie,  and  some  sma'ish  burds,  maist  like  snipes  and  wudcocks — 
for  the  long-bills  is  come  ower  noo  frae  Norway — just  like  a  three- 
decker  lying  at  anchor  in  the  middle  o'  as  mony  frigates.  Yon's 
what  1  ca\  sirs,  a  Core  o'  Reserve. 

North,  Were  you  at  the  Cattle  Show,  James,  t'other  day,  in  the 
Court  of  the  Oil-gas  Institution  1 

Shepherd,  Eisters  dinna  interrupt  talkin',  Tliere's  a  beauty,  Mr. 
North,— obleedge  me  by  allooin*  me  to  let  it  down  your  throat, 
flaud  back  your  head  awee^-open  Sesame — there  it  goes,  without 
ever  a  chack, — didna  ye  hear^t  play  plowp  in  the  stamach  ? 

Tickler.  Pleasing  picture  of  piety  1 — ^The  young  cormorant  feed- 
ing his  old  father. 

Shepherd.  I  was  at  the  Show.  But  sic  anither  prize-bill  as  you  I 
never  saw, — a  wee  wizzened,  waif-and-stray-looklng  cretur — sic  a 
tawty  hide — a  mere  rickle  o'  banes — sae  weak  that  he  could  hardly 
staun', — and  evidently  a  martyr  to  the  rheumatism,  the  asthma,  and 
^e  consumption. 

North.  But  the  breed,  James — the  breed  ! 

Shepherd.  Nae  doubt  the  breed  was  gude,  for  it  was  Mr.  Rennie's; 
but  sic  a  specimen  !  I  defy  ony  judge,  since  the  days  o'  Gamaliel, 
to  decide  on  the  merits  o'  a  beast  in  sic  a  condition  as  you.  Sup- 
pose, sir,  by  way  of  argumentative  illustration,  that  a  prize  was  to 
be  given  to  the  finest  young  man  of  eighteen  that  could  be  produced, 
and  that  from  among  ever  so  many  noble  fellows,  all  instinct  with 
health  and  vigor,  the  judge  were  to  single  out  ae  urchin,  a  lean,  lank, 
yellow,  and  loose-skinned  skeleton,  and  put  a  belt  round  his  waist 
as  being  the  picked  man  of  all  England. 

NorUi.  So  might  be  his  frame-work. 

Shepherd,  What  ?  Do  ye  mean  his  skeleton  1  But  the  prize  was 
no  for  skeletons — if  it  was,  a*  the  competitors  should  hae  been  pre- 
pared. Or  take,  sir,  a  shipwrecked  sailor  afifa  rock  in  the  middle  o^ 
the  sea,  where  he  has  been  leevin',  puir  fallow,  on  some  moothfu's  o' 
tangle,  scarted  aff  the  sluddery  stanes,  for  maist  part  o'  a  fortnicht, 

*  In  Mme  paita  of  Sootl&nd,  where  oold  real  is  considered  rathertaitele88,it  is  often  spoken  of 
hj  the  name  of  '^  kiss-yoor-sister,''  from  the  reputed  insipidit^y  of  rach  a  demonstration  of 
family  affection. — M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


28  NOCTBS  AMBBOSIAJSM. 

and  wringin'  the  rain  out  o'  his  troosers  to  keep  d*>on  his  ragin' 
thirst — and  compare  him  wi'  me — ^just  me  mjsell  sittin'  here  wi'  a 
brodd  o*  eisters  on  ilka  haun — after  a  denner  the  day  vi'  some 
freends  in  the  Auld  Town — and  a  December's  eating,  the  month 
that's  allooed  to  be  the  verra  best  in  the  hail  towmount,  and  wha 
wad  daur  to  pass  judgment  on  the  comparative  pints  o'  sic  a  sailor 
and  sic  a  shepherd  1  As  for  the  bit  bill,  he  was  leevin*  then — 
though  nae  doubt  he's  dead  noo— for  it  was  a  raw  day,  and  he 
keepit  shiverin'  in  his  pen  like  an  aspen. 

North.  I  confess,  James,  there  is  something  in  what  you  say — 
yet  a  bull  bred  by  Mr.  Rennie  of  Linton,  and  approved  by  Captain 
Barclay  of  Ury  ^  must  have  been,  in  spite  of  his  delicate  state  of 
'•ealth,  a  rare  ar.imal. 

Shepherd.  There's  no  twa  mair  honorable  and  cleverer  chiels  in 
a  Scotland — but  it's  just  perfectly  impossible  to  decide  atween  ane 
or  twa  brute  creturs — or  human  anes  either — when  the  tane's  a*  that 
it  ought  to  be,  or  can  be,  in  health  and  speerits,  and  the  tiiber 
hingin'  head  and  tail,  little  oetter  than  an  atomy — it's  just  perfectly 
impossible. 

North.  The  Highland  Society,  James,  the  promoters  of  these 
great  Cattle  Shows,  is  the  most  useful  one  in  all  Scotland ;  and  you 
will  be  glad,  I  am  sure,  to  hear,  that  under  their  auspices,  Mr. 
Blackwood  is  about  to  publish  -quarterly  an  Agricultural  Magazine, 
for  which  he  has  already  found  an  Editor  of  rare  accomplishments. 

Shepherd.  Oh,  man,  but  I'm  real  glad  o'  that!  sic  a  bulk's  a  great 
desiderawtum — 1*11  write  for't  my  sell,  and  sae  will  a  thousan' 
ithers; — but  still  I  doubt  the  possibility  o'  judgin'  fairly  o' a  bill 
like  yon,  though,  nae  doubt,  he  would  hae  been  a  beauty  if  in  fine 
ruddy  health,  like  a  bailie  or  a  bishop.  It  was  just  the  vice  versa 
wi'  yon  prize  pig.  She  was  just  a  fot  grunt,  and  had  lost  all  appear- 
ance o'  a  human  cretur.f  Extremes  should  be  avoided,  for,  as 
Horace  says, 

Suut  certi  denique  fines, 
Qao6  ultra  citraque  nequit  oonsistere  reetum. 

North.  Very  sensible,  James.  In  like  manner,  with  respect  to 
horses.     A  colt  whose  sire  was  a  Regulus,  and  dam  a  Mandane, 

*  Captain  Barclaj,  vho  accomplished  the  feat  of  walking  a  thousand  miles  in  a  thousand 
oonsecntire  hours,  inherited  from  his  uncle  a  large  and  unprofitable  estate,  at  Ury,  near  the 
•mall  to-nrn  of  Stoneharen,  about  sixteen  miles  from  Aberdeen,  in  Scotland.  He  deroted  him- 
self, for  years,  to  the  improTement  of  this  apparently  barren  land,  and,  by  suocevsion  and  alter- 
nation of  crops,  subsoil  ploughing,  spade  culture,  and  judicious  application  of  manure,  sno- 
oeeded  in  making  it  one  of  the  most  productire  properties  in  Scotland.  He  took  to  cattle-breeding 
also,  and  his  annual  sales  of  stock  long  drew  crowds  of  purchasers  from  all  parts  of  the  king- 
dom. In  1S40.  he  m ado  an  Agricultural  tour  through  Canada  and  part  of  the  United  Statea. 
and  published  an  account  of  it  on  his  return  to  Scotland.  He  is  a  descendant  of  Robert  Barclay, 
author  of  An  Apolo/y  for  the  Quakers,  and  claims  the  dormant  title  of  Earl  of  Alladyee.— M. 

f  The  practice  of  feeding  uu  prize-cattle  to  such  obesity  that  tb<>ir  flesh  is  rendered  unfit  for 
food,  has  long  been  the  tashion  in  Great  Britain,  but  is  now  being  *'put  down"  by  good 
senM.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


PAT8-AND-PAN8.  29 

must  almost  necessarily  be  a  fine  colt — ^but  shut  him  up  in  an  empty 
stable  till  he  is  starved,  and  just  able  to  hobble,  and  is  there  a  man 
in  all  England  who  will  take  upon  him  to  say  that  he  can  still 
fairly  compare  all  his  points  with  those  of  another  colt  at  the  mo- 
ment of  starting  for  the  St.  Leger,*  and  backed  at  even  against  the 
field ! 

Shepherd,  Let  the  judge  ken  that  the  colt  belangs  to  Mr.  Petre 
or  Lord  Darlington,  and  name  sire  and  dam,  and  let  him  also  ken 
the  inferior  lineage  of  the  ither  competitor,  and  in  spite  o*  himsell 
he  will  prefer  the  starvelin',  and  the  mair  because  he  is  a  starvelin ; 
for,  if  filled  up  and  fattened  to  the  proper  pitch,  wadna  he  indeed  be 
a  pictur  ?     But  it's  fause  reason  in' ! 

North.  James,  you  astonish  me  by  your  knowledge  of  the  turf. 
You  are  a  perfect  Gulley.f 

Shepherd,  No  me.  I  never  saw  a  horse-race  for  higher  stakes 
than  five  pounds  and  a  saddle.  But  nae  races  for  siller  or  leather 
like  a — broose.  I  had  ance  a  din  powny,  about  fourteen  hands  but 
an  inch,  that  I  cofb  frae  a  set  o'  tincklers,  that  beat  a'  for  gallopin' 
sin  the  days  o'  Childers  or  Eclipse.  I  wadna  hae  feared  to  hae  run 
him  against  Fleur  de-lis,  or  Acteon,  or  Memnon,  or  Mameluke,  or 
Camel,  or  Mullatto,  for  a  thousan'  guineas. 

North,  Weight  for  inches,  James. 

Shepherd,  Devil  mind  the  wecht  Pats-and-Pans  never  ran  so 
weel's  whan  he  was  ridden  dooble — me  and  a  weel-grown  lass 
ahint  me,  for  I  never  could  thole  thin  anes'  a'  my  days.  His  favrite 
distance,  carry  in'  dooble,  was  twal  miles ;  and  he  used  generally  to 
do't  up  hill  and  doon  brae,  within  the  half  hour.  Indeed,  he  never 
came  to  his  speed  till  about  the  middle  o'  the  fourth  mile,  and  eio- 
can  a  cretur  for  wund  !  I  never  saw  him  blawn  but  ance,  and  that 
was  after  bringin'  the  howdiej  ahint  me,  a*  the  way  frae  Selkirk 
up  to  Douglas  Bum — no  short  o'  eighteen  miles,  and  bein'  just  ta'en 
an  the  gerse.| 

Nordi,  Still,  at  Newmarket  or  Doncaster,  JtMnes 

Shepherd,  He  wad  hae  lefl  them  a'  as  if  they  had  been  stannin' 
— provided  they  had  allowed  me  to  carry  as  muckle  wecht's  I  chose; 
for  Pats-and-Pans  never  ran  steddy  under  the  twal  stane  at  the  least, 
and  wi'  a  feather  he  wad  hae  swerved  ower  the  ropes,  and  played 
the  mischief  wi'  the  carriages.     Where's  Mr.  Tickler  ? 

*Th«  St.  Leger  ia  the  principal  and  celebrated  trial  of  speed  at  Doncaster  Race*,  in  England. 
Mr.  (afterwards  Lord)  Petre  was  long  a  dlstingaished  man  on  the  tarf.  The  Earl  of  Darling- 
ton, who  WM  made  Dnke  of  CleTeiand  in  ItSd,  was  rather  a  huntsman  than  what  is  called  a 
sporting-man.    Hones  of  his  breeding  were  much  prized. — M. 

t  John  Galley,  who  hod  been  a  professional  pngilistio  prize-fiffhter,  made  a  large  fortune  by 
bettiog  upon  races,  and  finally  became  the  owner  of  extensiye  landed  estates,  and  member  of 
the  Bruiah  Parliament.— M. 

X  ^owiw,— midwife.        ||  Oerae, — grass. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


80  K0CTE8  AMBHOeiASM. 

North,  I  saw  him  slip  away  m  little  ago— ju&t  as  he  had  cleared 
his  boards 

Shepherd.  I  never  missed  him  till  the  noo.  Is  he  aiTto  Ducraw's, 
think  ye  1  Yet  it's  ower  late,  for  isna  that  ten  that  thae  bits  o'  Fai- 
ries are  chappin*  1 

North.  Have  you  seen  Ducrow  1     He  is  indeed  a  prodigy.* 

Shepherd.  Afler  &\  sir,  it  canna  be  denied  that  the  human  race 
are  maist  extraordinary  creturs.  What  canna  .they,  by  constant 
practice,  be  brought  to  perform?  It's  a  complexin'  place,  yon 
Circus  ;  ae  man  draps  down  in  the  dust,  and  awa  out  o'  the  door  on 
his  doup  ;  anither  after  him,  wi'  a'  celerity,  on  his  elbows ;  a  third 
afler  him  again,  soomin'  on  dry  laun  at  the  rate  o'  four  miles  an 
hour ;  a  fourth  perpendicular  on  the  pawms  o'  his  hauns,  and  a 
fiflb  on  the  croon  o'  his  head,  without  ever  touchin'  the  grun'  wi' 
his  loofs  ava.  A'  the  while  the  lang-lugged  fule,  wi'  a  maist 
divertin'  face,  balancin'  himsell  cross-legged  on  a  chair  wi'  ae  foot, 
it  spinnin'  roun'  like  a  whirligig.  Ordinary  sittin'  or  walkin'  seems 
perfectly  stupid  after  that — feet  superfluous,  and  legs  an  incum- 
brance. 

North.  But  Ducrow,  James,  Ducrow  ? 

Shepherd.  Then  in  comes  a  tall,  pleasant-looking  fallow  o'  a  €rer- 
man,  ane  Herr  Benjamin,  wha  thinks  nae  mair  o'  balancin'  a  beam 
o'  wood,  that  micht  be  a  roof-tree  to  a  house,  on  his  wee  finger,  than 
if  it  were  a  wundle-strae  ;  then  gars  a  sodger's  musket,  wi*  the  point 
o'  the  beggonet  on  his  chin,  spin  roun,  till  it  becomes  nearly  invisi- 
ble ;  no  content  wi'  that,  up  wi'  a  ladder  aneath  his  lip,  wi'  a  laddie 
on't,  as  easily  as  if  it  were  a  leddy's  fan ;  and,  feeniJly,  concludes 
wi*  twa  mail-cotch  wheels  on  the  mouth  ©'  him 

North,  But  Ducrow,  James,  Ducrow  ? 

Shepherd.  Yon's  a  beautifu'  sicht,  sir,  at  ance  music,  dancin', 
statuary,  painting,  and  poetry  !  The  creturs  aneath  him  soon  cease 
to  seem  horses,  as  they  accelerate  round  the  circus,  wi'  a  motion  a' 
their  ain,  unlike  to  4hat  o'  ony  ither  four-footed  quadrupeds  on  the 
face  o'  this  earth,  mair  gracefu'  in  their  easy  swiftness  than  the 
flights  of  Arabian  coursers  ower  the  desert,  and  to  the  eye  o'  ima- 
gination, some  rare  and  new-created  animals,  fit  for  the  wild  and 
wondrous  pastimes  o'  that  greatest  o'  a'  magicians — Man. 

North.  But  Ducrow,  James,  Ducrow  1 

Shepherd.  As  if  inspired,  possessed  by  some  spirit,  over  whom 
the  laws  o*  attraction  and  gravity  hae  nae  control,  he  dallies  wi' 
danger,  and  bears  a  charmed  life,  safe  as  the  pigeon  that  ye  will 

*  DnoTOw,  for  MT«n,l  jtm  manacer  of  Aitlej't  Amphitheatre,  in  London,  was  hj  tu  the  beet 
•qnesUian  performer  erer  seen  in  Europe.  There  was  natural  fraee  in  his  moTements,  and 
something  extremeif  piotaresaue  and  classical  in  his  peraonations  of  statnes  from  the  antique. 
He  was  indifferently  educated,  as  (ar  as  books  are  concerned,  but  he  knew  the  world,  and 
amazed  a  large  fortune  to  his  widow,  who  immediately— took  a  second  husband. — M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


DUOBOW.  81 

afUimee  see  gang  tapsy-turvy  amang  the  clouds,  and  tumblin'  down 
to  within  a  yard  o'  the  earth,  then  re-ascend,  like  an  arrtiw,  into  the 
sunshine,  and,  wheel  in'  roun'  and  roun'  in  aft-repeated  circles,  extend 
proudly  a'  its  burnished  pluroage  to  the  iicht,  till  the  een  are  pained, 
and  the  brain  dizzy  to  behold  the  aerial  brichtness  beautifyin'  the 
sky. 

North.  Bravo,  James— excellent — go  on. 

Shepherd.  Wha  the  deevil  was  Castor,  that  the  ancients  made 
m  god  o'  for  his  horsemanship^a  god  o'  and  a  star — in  comparison 
wi'  yon  Duoraw  1  A  silly  thocht  is  a  Centaur — a  man  and  a  horse 
in  ane — in  which  the  dominion  o'  the  man  is  lost,  and  the  superior 
inoorpsed  with  the  inferior  natur !  Ducraw  "  rides  on  the  whirl- 
wind, and  directs  the  storm."  And,  oh,  sir!  how  saflly,  gently, 
tenderly,  and  like  the  dyin'  awa  o*  fkst  fairy  music  in  a  dream,  is 
the  subsidin'  o'  the  motion  o'  a'  the  creturs  aneath  his  feet,  his  ain 
gestures,  and  his  ain  attitudes,  and  his  ain  actions,  a'  corresponding 
and  congenial  wi'  the  ebbin'  flight ;  even  like  some  great  master 
o^  music  wha  doesna  leave  afl*  when  the  soun'  is  at  its  heicht,  but 
gradually  leads  on  the  sowls  o'  the  listeners  to  a  far  profounder  hush 
o'  silence  than  reigned  even  before  he  woke  to  ecstasy  his  livin' 
lyre. 

North.  Go  it  again,  my  dear  James. 

Shepherd.  Yon's  neither  walkin',  dancin',  nor  loupin',  nor  rinnin', 
nor  soomin',  nor  bangin',  nor  floatin',  nor  fleein ,  but  an  incon- 
ceivable conglomeration  o'  them  a' — sic  as  I  used  sometimes  to 
experience  whan  lyin'  in  a  dream  on  a  sunny  knowe  by  St  Mary's 
Loch — ^believin'  my  sell  a  disembodied  spirit— and  withouten  wings, 
giein'  the  eagle  and  the  hawk  the  go-by,  richt  afore  the  wund, — 
and  skimmin'  the  real  stars,  just  as  skaters  skim  their  images 
aneath  the  ice,  and  fearing  not  the  mountain-taps,  from  which, 
every  time  I  touched  them  wi'  my  foot,  upsprung  I  again  into  the 
blue  lift,  and  felt  roun'  my  brows  the  cool  caller  halo  o'  the  harvest- 
moon. 

North.  Enipty  your  tumbler,  James — ^to  Ducrow's  health. 

Shepherd.  That  I  will.  But  I  houp  the  Circus  '11  no  injure  the 
Theatre  ? 

North.  Not  at  all.  Admirable  Murray* — ^incomparable  Mackay 
— perfect  Mrs.  Siddons,  and  elegant  Miss  Gray— cleverest  Jones— 
accomplished  Pritchard — manly  Denham — genteel  Stanley 

*  Mr.  W.  H.  Murray,  for  01*07  ytwn  manager  of  tho  prineipal  thoatre  in  Edinburgh,  was  an 
•XMllent  actor,  and  a  wall-educated  gentleman.  His  sister  was  married  to  Henry  Siddons,  son 
of  Uu  Tragedy  Qneen.  In  1818,  he  produoed  a  dramatic  adaptation  of  *'  Rob  Roy,"  in  which 
Mr.  Charles  Mackay,  [pronounced  Mak-Kye],  himself  •  native  of  Glavow,  and  master  of  the 
West-Country  dialect,  made  an  immense  hit  as  Bailie  Niool  Jarrie.  SootfL  who  went  on  th# 
first  night,  was  so  much  interested  that,  though  the  authorship  of  the  WarerlT  Norels  was 
then  a  great  mystery,  he  left  his  box  between  the  scenes  to  remind  the  lady  who  played  Mattic 
that  she  must  have  a  lantern  with  her  mantle.  The  other  perCormers  named  here,  were  them 
attached  to  the  Edinburgh  theatre,  and  very  popular.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


32  N0Cr£8  AMBBOSIAN^E. 

Shepherd.  Gie  ower  your  epithets — for  neither  you  nor  ony  man 
can  describe  an  actress  or  an  actor  in  ae  word ; — but  I  agree  wi* 
you, — the  mair  general  the  speent  o*  pastime,  the  better  will  the 
Theatre  fill  in  the  lang  run  ;  and  the  manager  and  his  sister  will 
aye  be  supported  by  their  freen',  the  people  o'  Embro,  wha  admires 
in  them  the  union  o'  professional  genius  and  private  virtue. 

North,  Their  health  and  happiness — in  the  jug,  James, — in  the 

Shepherd,  A  stranger  that  chanced  to  be  present  at  a  Noctes 
without  kennin'  whar  we  twa  was,  wud  never  jalouse  us  to  be 
Leeterautee,  Mr.  North.  We  seldom  hae  ony  brainless  bother 
about  books.    Sic  talk  maistly  marks  the  blockhead. 

North,  You  know,  James,  that  I  would  not  give  an  intelligent 
and  independent  Tweedside  sheep-farmer  for  a  score  of  ordinary 
town  essay-mongers,  poetasters,  and  getters-up  of  articles.  The 
thoughts  and  feelings  of  the  Pastoral  run  in  a  channel  scooped  our 
by  themselves — they  murmur  with  a  music  of  their  own,  and  evet 
and  anon  overflow  their  banks  in  a  style  that  is  flood-like  and  im- 
pressive. He  of  the  common  stair  is  like  a  canal-cut,  navigable  only 
to  flat-bottoms,  muddy  in  the  clearest  weather,  and  its  characterless 
banks  wearisome  with  their  gritty  gravel-walks,  on  which  you  meet 
nothing  more  lively  than  an  occasional  old  blind  horse  or  two  towing 
coals,  or  a  passage-boat  crowded  with  the  paltriest  people,  all  sorely 
sick  of  one  another,  themselves,  the  locks,  and  that  part  of  Scot- 
land in  general,  the  women  staring  at  you  from  below  ill-shaped 
bonnets  of  coarse  dirty  chip,  and  the  men  crowned  with  third-head 
water-proof  hats — napless  and  greasy — strolling  candlc-snuffers,  pe- 
titioners, editors,  contributors,  and  a  sickly  man  of  tailors  perhaps, 
trying  change  of  place  and  posture.     Whereas 

Shepherd,  Stop  a  wee,  and  I'll  sing  you  Blue  Bonnets — by  a  fine 
fallow — a  freen  o'  mine  in  Leith.  I  promised  him  that  I  wad  sing't 
at  a  Noctes. 

"Write,  write,  touriBt  aud  traveller — 

Fill  up  your  pases,  and  write  in  good  order ; 
Write,  write,  soriboler  and  drivler — 

Why  leave  such  margins  t    Come  nearer  the  border. 

Many  a  laurel  dead,  flutters  around  your  head ; 

Manv  a  tome  is  your  memento  mori : 
Oome  from  your  garrets,  then,  sons  of  the  quill  and  pen— 

Write  for  snuff-«hops,  if  you  write  not  for  gloiy. 

Oome  from  your  rooias,  where  the  £Brthlng  wick's  burning— 
Ck>me  with  your  tales — speak  they  gladness  or  woe ; 

Oome  from  your  small  beer  to  vinegar  turning — 
Come  where  the  Port  and  the  Burgundy  flow. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


LTTEBAST   MEN.  ^  33 

Fame's  tramp  is  toaDdiiiK — ^topics  abotmdizig, — 
Leave  then,  each  Bcribbler,  your  high  attic  Btory ; 

Critics  shall  many  a  day  ^peaic  of  your  book,  aud  Bay,-« 
*  He  wrote  for  the  snuff-shop — ^he  wrote  not  for  glory  " 

"Write,  write,  tourist  and  traveller — 

Fill  up  your  pages,  and  write  in  good  order ; 
Write,  write,  scribbler  and  drivler — 

Why  leave  sndi  margins  ?    Ck>me  nearer  the  border. 

North,  Very  well,  indeed.  A  mere  literary  man,  James,  is  a 
contemptible  creature.  Indeed  I  oflen  wish  that  I  had  flourished 
before  the  invention  of  printing,  or  even  of  writing.  What  think 
you,  James,  of  a  Noctes  in  hieroglyphics  ? 

Shepherd.  I  scarcely  ken  ;  but  I  think  ane  wud  no  look  amiss  in 
the  Chinese.  Wi'  respeck  to  mere  literary  men,  O  dear  me,  sir! 
hoc  I  do  gant  when  they  come  out  to  Mount  Benger  !  They  canna 
shute,  they  canna  fish,  they  canna  loup,  they  canna  warsle,  they 
canna  soom,  they  canna  put  the  stane,  they  canna  fling  the  hammer, 
they  canna  even  drive  a  gig,  they  canna  kiss  a  lassie  in  an  afl*-haun 
and  pleasant  manner,  without  oflendin*  her  feelina,  as  through  the 
dews  she  **  comes  wadiii'  all  alane  ;^'  and  what's  perhaps  the  maist 
contemptible  o'  a*,  they  canna,  to  ony  efleck,  drink  whusky.  Ae 
glass  o'  pure  speerits  on  the  hill  afore  breakfast  wud  gie  them  a 
sick  headache  ;  and  afler  denner,  although  the  creturs  hae  nae  objec- 
tions to  the  jug,  oh !  but  their  heads  are  wake,  wake — before  the 
fire  has  got  sun-bricht,  they  are  lauchin'-fou — you  then  fin'  them  out 
to  be  rejected  contributors  to  Blackwood  ;  and  you  hear  that  they're 
Whigs  frae  their  wee,  sharp,  shrill,  intermittin',  dissatisfied,  and 
rather  disgustin'  snore,  like  a  soun'  ane  aflen  hears  at  nicht  in  moors 
and  mosses,  but  whence  proceed  in'  ane  knows  not,  except  it  be  frae 
some  wildfool  distressed  in  sleep  by  a  stamach  fu'  of  slug-worms 
mixed  wi'  mire — for  he  aiblins  leeves  by  suction. 

North,  He  is  all  mind,  James ;  king  of  the  Coteries,  and  monardi 
of  all  the  Albums.  His  mother  laments  that  he  is  not  in  Parlia- 
ment ;  and,  up  to  the  Preface,  used  to  hint  that  he  had  a  finger  in 
Ken  il worth  and  Ivanhoe. 

Shepherd.  Yet,  after  a',  it's  far  frae  unamusin'  to  read  the  verses 
o'  sic  creturs.  They're  aye  taukin'  o'  inspiration — o'  bein'  rapt, 
and  carried  awa  by  the  Muses — and  ridin'  on  Pegasus — and  climbin' 
Parnassus,  on  their  hauns  and  knees,  nae  doubt — and  drinkin'  Hip- 
pocrene  and  Helicon,  twa  kinds  o'  Greek  wine,  ance  red,  but  noo 
tawny ;  and  though  no  like  to  flee  to  the  head,  yet  apt  to  soor  sair 
on  an  empty  stamach.  Yet  a'  the  time  there's  no  a  whut  mair 
inspiration,  or  ravishment,  or  ridin',  or  climbin',  or  drinkin'  about 
the  bit  versifying  creturs  o'  Cockneys,  than  there  is  about  a  gro- 
Vol.  m.— 4 


Digitized  by 


Google 


84  .  NOOTES  AMSBO&IAJXM. 

oer's  clerk  copying  out  an  adverteesement  o'  sweeties  for  the  news- 
papers. 

North.  Yet  such  sons  of  genius  think  themselves  entitled  to  he- 
come  unprincipled,  because  they  can  occasionally  count  their  fingers 
— disdain  area-doors,  with  eyes  in  fine  frenzy  rolling — get  into  a 
network — that  is,  James,  according  to  Dr.  Johnson — a  thing  equally 
reticulated  and  discussated  with  equal  distances  between  the  inter- 
stices— a  network  of  small  coarse  debts — attempt  to  commit  forgery 
— fall,  through  ignorance  of  the  forms  of  business,  into  the  inferior 
crime  of  swindling — off  on  the  coach-box  of  the  Carlisle  mail  to 
Liverpool ;  and,  by  packet  that  is  to  sail  to-morrow  morning,  right 
slick  away  to  the  United  States. 

Shepherd,  You're  really  verra  interteenin*  the  nicht,  sir;  but 
dinna  be  ower  hard  on  them  a' ;  for  when  natur  has  kindled  the 
spark  o'  genius  in  the  heart  o*  a  fine  out-spoken,  enthusiastic, 
hopefu'  callant,  wi'  bauld  bricht  een,  like  far-keekers  spyin'  into 
futurity,  isn't  delightfu'  to  grasp  his  haun,  and  to  clap  him  on  the 
shouther,  and  praise  him  to  his  face,  as  you  shove  ower  the  jug  to 
him,  and  ask  him  to  sing  or  receet  something  o'  his  ain, — and  tell 
ane  o'  your  bairns  to  gang  roun'  the  table  and  speak  till  him,  for 
that  he's  a  freend  o'  yours,  and  a  gran'  fallow,  and  no  to  mind  even 
about  climbin'  ontU  his  knee,  and  ruggin'  the  curly  locks  o'  him,  as 
black  as  a  raven  1 

North,  How  delightful  for  a  town-talk-teased  poor  old  man,  like 
me,  to  take  refuge,  for  a  month  or  so,  in  a  deeper  solitude  even 
than  Buchanan  Lodge — ^the  house  at  the  head  of  the  glen,  which, 
know  it  ever  so  well,  you  still  have  to  search  for  among  so  many 
knolls,  some  quite  bare,  some  with  a  birk  or  two,  and  some  of  them 
each  in  itself  a  grove  or  wood, — self-sown  all  the  trees,  brushwood, 
coppice,  and  standards. 

Shepherd,  You're  getting  desperate  descriptive  in  your  dotage — 
sir — dinna  froon — there's  nae  dishonor  in  dotage,  when  nature's  its 
object.  The  aulder  we  grow,  our  love  for  her  gets  tenderer  and 
mair  tender,  for  this  thocht  aften  comes  across  our  heart,  **  in  the 
bosom  o'  this  bonny  green  earth,  in  how  few  years — shall  I  be  laid — 
dust  restored  to  dust !"     That's  a'  I  mean  by  dotage. 

North.  What  a  difference,  James,  between  the  din  of  twenty  little 
waterfalls,  that  absolutely  seem  pursuing  one  another  away  down 
the  glen,  and  as  many  hackney  coaches  jolting  along  a  street !  A 
composure  in  all  faces  and  figures  that  you  meet  going  out  to  work 
or  coming  in  from  it — or  sitting  or  walking  about  the  house !  Quiet 
without  dulness — without  languor — peace !  There  the  gloaming  is 
indeed  pensive — each  star  as  it  rises  sparkles  contentment — and  the 
moon  is  felt  to  belong  more  especially  to  this  one  valley,  most  beau- 
tiful of  all  the  valleys  of  thb  earth.    Not  an  action  of  all  my  life — 


Digitized  by 


Google 


WHIBEY  AND  PHILOflOPHT.  85 

not  a  word  I  ever  uttered — not  a  tale,  or  poem,  op  article,  or  book 
in  two,  three,  or  four  volumes,  that  I  ever  wrote — not  one  of  ail 
the  panegyrics,  anathemas,  blessings,  curses,  prayers,  oaths,  vows, 
and  protestations,  ever  pronounced,  denounced,  and  announced  anent 
me,  known  to  one  single  dweller  in  all  the  vale  !  There  am  I  strictly 
anonymous.  That  crutch  is  as  the  crutch  of  any  ordinary  rheumatic 
— and  I,  James,  have  the  unspeakable  satisfaction  of  feeling  myself 
— a  Cipher. 

Shepherd.  What  are  ye  huroroin'  at,  sir.  YouVe  no  gaun  to 
ring! 

North.  Wby  does  the  stni  shine  on  me^ 

When  its  light  I  hate  to  see : 
Fain  Td  lay  me  down  and  dee» 
For  o*  life  rm  weary  1 

O  *tiB  no  thy  frown  I  fear — 
Tk  thy  smile  I  eanna  bear — 
*Tl8  thy  smile  my  heart  does  tear, — 
When  thon  triest  to  cheer  me. 

Ladies  fair  hae  smiled  on  me— 
A'  their  smiles  no  joy  eoold  gie— 
Never  lo'ed  I  ane  but  thee, 
And  I  lo'e  thee  dearly  I 

On  the  sea  the  moonbeams  play — 
Sae  theyll  shine  when  Fm  away — 
Happy  then  thonlt  be,  and  gay, 
When  I  wander  dreary  1 

Shepherd.  Some  auld  fragmentary  strain,  remindin'  him,  nae 
doubt,  o^  joys  and  sorrows  lang  ago  !  He  has  a  pathetic  vice — ^but 
sing 'what  tune  he  may,  it  still  slides  awa*  into  Stroud  Water. 

North.  Oh,  James !  a  dream  of  the  olden  time 

Shepherd.  Huts !  huts !  I  wush  you  maunna  be  gettin'  rather  a 
wee  fuddled — sir — hafflins  fou — preserve  me,  are  ye  greetin'  ?  The 
whusky's  maist  terrible  strong — and  I  suspect  has  never  been  chris- 
sened,*  It's  time  we  be  aff.  Oh!  what  some  o'  them  he  has 
knowted  wud  gie  to  see  him  in  this  condition !  But  there's  the 
wheels  o'  the  cotch.     Or  is't  a  fire-engine  ? 

Enter  Ambrose  to  announce  the  arrival  of  the  coach. 

Dinna  look  at  him,  Mr.  Ambrose — he's  gotten  the  toothache — and 
likewise  some  ingon  in  his  een.  This  is  aye  the  way  with  him  noo 
— he's  far  aff  a'  on  a  sudden — and  begins  greetin'  at  naething,  or  at 

*To  CXrittm  whiaky^ft  aoeUl  domottio  orima  of  infinito  dukaow— If  to  add  water 
toh.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


86  NOCTES  AMBBOBIAN^ 

things  that's  raither  an.dsin'  as  itherwise.  There's  mony  th  usan' 
ways  o'  gettin'  fou — and  I  ken  nae  mair  philosophical  employment^ 
than,  in  sic  cityations,  the  study  o'  the  varieties  o'  human  cha- 
racter. 

North,  Son  James 

Shepherd,  Pardon,  father — 'twas  but  a  jeest  I've  kent  you  noo 
the  better  pairt  o'  twenty  years — and  never  saw  I  thae  bright  een — 
that  bricht  brain  obscured — for,  wi'  a'  our  daffin'— our  weel  timed 
daffin* — our  dulce  est  desipere  in  loco — that's  Latin,  you  ken — we  re- 
turn to  our  hame,  or  our  lodgings,  as  sober  as  Quakers — and  as 
peacefu',  too, — weel-wishers,  i»ne  and  a',  to  the  hail  human  race — 
even  the  verra  Whigs. 

North,  Sometimes,  my  dear  Shepherd,  my  life  from  eighteen  to 
twenty  four,  is  an  utter  blank,  like  a  moonless  midnight-— at  other 
times,  oh  !  what  a  refulgent  day  !  Had  you  known  me  then,  James, 
you  would 

Shepherd,  No  hae  liked  you  half  as  weel's  I  do  noo— for  then, 
though  you  was  dootless  tall  and  straucht  as  a  tree,  and  able  and 
willin'  baith  to  fecht  man,  doug,  or  deevil,  wi*  een,  tongue,  feet,  or 
hauns,  yet,  as  dootless,  you  was  prooder  nor  Lucifer.  But  noo  that 
you're  bent  down  no  that  muckle,  justawee,  and  your  "lyart  haffits 
wearing  thin  and  bare,"  sae  pleasant,  sae  cheerfu',  sae  fu'  o'  alloo- 
ances  for  the  fauts  and  frailties  o'  your  fellow-creturs,  provided  only 
they  proceed  na  frae  a  bad  heart — it's  just  perfectly  impossible  no  to 
love  the  wise,  merry  auld  man 

North,  James,  I  wish  to  consult  you  and  Mr.  Ambrose  about  the 
propriety  and  prudence  of  my  marrying 

Shepherd,  Never  heed  ye  propriety  and  prudence,  sir,  in  mair- 
rying,  ony  mair  than  ither  folk.  Mairry  her,  sir— ^mairry  her — and 
I'll  be  godfather — for  the  predestined  mither  o'  him  will  be  an  Epis- 
copaulian — to  wee  Christopher. 

North,  As  the  Reis  Eflfendi  well  observes  to  the  interpreters  of 
the  Three  Powers — we  must  not  name  a  child  till  we  have  ascer- 
tained its  sex.     But,  Ambrose,  open  the  ears  of  Dionysius. 

(Mr.  Ahbrosb  opens  a  secret  door,  andJUngs  it  open,) 

Shepherd,  Mr.  Gumey — the  short-haun  writer  !  D  inn  a  be  frighted, 
sir.  What  a  cozy  contrivance  !  A  green-baized  table  o*  his  ain— 
twa  wax  cawnles — a  nice  wee  bit  ingle — and  a  gae  big  jug  ! 

North,  Not  a  whisper,  James,  that  Mr.  Gurney  does  not  catch. 
I  will  explain  the  principle  to  you  at  our  first  leisure.  You  know 
the  elements  of  acoustics  f 

Shepherd.  Cow-steeks, — cow's  horns.  What  do  you  mean !  Let 
me  try  your  toddy,  Mr.  Gurney.     Oh,  man !  but  it's  strong.    Good 


Digitized  by 


Google 


A  QLEB.  37 

night)  sir ;  dinna  steer  till  ye  extend.*    Come  awa',  Mr.  North — 
Awmrose,  rax  him  ower  the  crutch. 

North.  What  a  hobbletehoy  I  am,  James — Allons.  But  hark  je, 
James — are  you  the  author  of  the  **  Relief  Meeting  f '  No  t  I  wish 
I  knew  how  to  direct  a  letter  to  him  about  his  excdient  article.  Let 
us  off  to  Southside — and  sup  with  Tickler. 

Giee.'-For  Three  Voices. 

FaU  de  rail  de, 
Fall,lalLlallde, 
FaU  de  UU  de, 
Fall,kUle,^ 

[Exeunt  Atnbo  et  Anibroee. 

*  Tbat  1«— do  aot  stir  until  yoa  ha,y%  extoaded,  or  tzuufoirtd  your  Bliort  baad  notoi  into 
ordiury  wriUaf  .—M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


88 


N0CTB8  AMBBOfilAN^ 


No.  XXXVL— MAY,  1828. 

SCENE — Great  Dining-Room^  Buchanan  Lodge — Time^  after 

Cheese. 


North. 

f 

•Hraoix 

\ 

Odohertt. 

North.  John,  the  quaighs.f     Here,  gentlemen,  is  some  Glenlivet 

*  This  was  an  imafinary  iatorloontdr.  In  ICoTenb«r,  1819«  Ma^a  commenced  a  aeriea  of  in* 
tarestinf  aitioles.  entitled  *' Recollections,  bj  Mark  Maerabin.  the  Cameronian,"  which  ran 
throQfh  manj  rolames.  and  professed  to  lelate  incidents  connected  with  the  career  of  sereml 
of  the  preachers  and  professors  of  the  relirions  sect  founded  in  Scotland  bj  Richard  Cameron. 
The  locale  of  this  sect,  which  mar  be  said  to  hare  included  the  reliqnes  of  the  stem  enthusi- 
astic Corananters.  was  chieflr  in  Dumfriesshire.  Allan  Cunningham,  himself  from  that  part 
of  Scotland,  was  beliered  to  hare  been  the  writer,  and  the  more  so,  as  the  series  was  gemmed 
with  manj  Tery  charming  snatches  of  songs.— M. 

t  These  quuifhs.  which  were  little  cups  of  curionsly  doretailed  woods,  nsnallf  inlaid  In  sil- 
Ter,  were  of  Highland  birth.  Scott  had  many  of  them,  with  a  history  attached  to  each,  and 
that  reserred  for  his  own  use,  and  greatly  Talued,  had  trarelled  from  Edinburgh  to  Derby  in 
the  canteen  of  Prince  Charles  Stuart.  It  is  not  difficult  to  imagine  how  true  Scotchmen  would 
ralue  quaight  which  the  lips  of  the  Cheralier  had  touched,  or  which  had  belonged  to  John 
Home,  (author  of  the  play  ot  '*  Douglas.")  or  to  William  Carstairs— whoj  br  the  way.  was  no 
Cardinal,  but  Protestsnt  Chaplain  to  William  III.,  and  afterwards  Frincipai  of  the  UniTersity 
of  Edinburgh — or  to  Allan  Ramsay,  the  poet,  to  Deacon  Brodie  (who  was  hanged  on  a  drop  of 
his  own  invention,)  or  to  Bishop  Cameron,  respected  in  Edinburgh  alike  by  Catholic  and  Pro- 
testant. The  Doyle  here  mentioned  was  an  Iriith  Bishop,  who  wrote  a  great  many  works  on 
politics  and  polemics,  and  died  in  1834.  He  startled  STen  the  Catholics,  by  declaring  that  "  if 
a  rebellion  were  raging  from  Oarriekfergus  to  Gape  Clear,  no  sentenoe  of  azoommoAicmtioa 
would  trtr  be  fnlmin&ted  bj  aCatholio  preUte.*'-^. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


SOOmSH  QUAIGHB.  89 

the  same  sort  that  carried  the  prize  the  last  time  our  friends  the 
Barons  of  Exchequer  had  a  competition  anent  the  dew. 

Shepherd.  Rax  me  that  roeikle  black  ane.  Safe  us,  Mr.  North, 
vhare  got  ye  a'  this  cleckin'  o'  quaighs  ?  My  certy,  there's  aught 
o'  them — 

North,  Whisky  in  glass  is  a  gem  set  in  brass,  says  the  adage : 
porter  in  glass  is  as  heathen  as  the  mass,*  quoth  another.  I  stick 
in  all  these  afiairs  to  the  wisdom  of  our  ancestors. 

Macrahin.  This  is  a  queer-looking  little  gentleman.  Any 
hbtory  % 

North,  No  quaigh  unhistorical  shall  ever  press  my  board.  That 
lordly  dish  belonged  to  the  Prince  of  Wales.  He  gave  it  to  old 
Invernahyle,  who  left  it  to  your  humble  servant.  His  Royal 
Highness  had  it  in  his  holster  at  Drummossie. 

Macrabin.  A  precious  relic  indeed !  And  what  may  this  yellow- 
faced  burly  concern  be  ? 

North,  Ah  Mac,  my  dear,  that  is  a  quaigh  I  set  a  very  particular 
value  upon.  Tickler,  it  shall  be  yours,  if,  as  in  the  course  of  nature, 
you  see  me  out.  That  bit  of  boxwood  has  often  touched  the  lip  of 
our  comrade,  Charlie  Hay.     You  know  it  well. 

Tickler.  Ah,  poor  Charlie!  I  do  remember  it.  It  was  John 
Home's  legacy  to  L#ord  Newton,  youngsters. 

Shepherd,  It  has  seen  mony  a  deep  brooze  in  its  day.  I'll  war- 
rant the  chields  o'  the  Poker  hae  lippened  to  it  a'  round. 

North.  Ah,  James,  James !  there  is  something  very  pleasing  in 
such  memorials  as  these.  That  Sir  Morgan  is  playing  with  was  Dr. 
Webster's;  it  was  originally  Cardinal  Carstairs's.  He  taught  King 
William  to  sip  whisky  out  of  that  identical  chip  of  yew. 

Odoherty,  The  Glorious for  ever ! 

Tickler,  This,  which  I  hold  in  these  reverend  fingers,  was,  if  I 
mistake  not,  the  property  of  umwhile  Deacon  Brodie. 

North.  It  was.  That  quaigh,  gentlemen,  is  from  the  roof-tree  of 
the  cottage  at  Leadhills,  wherein  Allan  Ramsay  was  born :  Allan 
left  it  to  Bishop  Geddes ;  that  holy  father  bequeathed  it  to  my  wor- 
thy friend,  Bishop  Cameron ;  and  he,  in  turn,  transferred  it  by  a 
codicil  to  myself.  Ah,  Tickler!  we  have  had  a  sore  loss  in  our 
good  Bachelor  of  Salamanca. 

Tickler,  We  shall  not  look  upon  his  like  again.  He  was  the  only 
Papist,  except  Kempferhausen,  that  I  ever  could  tolerate.  M'Crie's 
book  went  to  his  heart,  I  believe. 

North,  And  Doyle's  pamphlets.  That  fellow's  tricks  did  more 
to  kill  Cameron  than  all  the  rest  of  it.  Peace  be  with  him  !  He 
was  a  noble,  a  generous  character — a  true  Christian,  Sir  Morgan,  by 
all  that's  purple,  this  night  in  Paradise. 

♦  PorUr  ■hould  !>«  drutk  ooi  of  "its  luitiTe  p«wtar.'*— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


10   -  NOCTKS  AMBBOeiAKA 

Odoherty  (tingi,) 

No  churchBUUi  am  I,  for  to  rail  or  to  writer 
No  stateamaD  or  aoldier,  to  plot  or  to  fight; 
No  tlj  mao  of  buainess,  ooDtriTiiup  a  soare. 
For  a  big-bellied  bottle's  the  wb<ue  of  m j  oare. 

Come,  North,  sound  a  retreat  to  your  timbers. 
Nwrth.  John,  the  decanters.    Gentlemen,  The  King,  Qod  Uest 
him  ! 

{Invisible  musicians  play  the  KaHonaJ  Anthem — Aree  times 
ihrety  dtc.  dtc.  dtc) 

Gentlemen,  a  bumper.  His  Grace  the  Duke  of  Wellington! 
Long  life  to  him  !  and  a  fig  for  Rascals,  Radicals,  and  Rats  !  All 
the  honors. 

Shepherd,  Lord  keep  us,  what  a  din !  ye'll  deave  me,  callants : 
ye  should  mind  youVe  amang  the  Elders  of  Israel,  and  keep  some 
decency  wi'  your  daffin. 

Macrabin.  Mr.  President,  I  beg  a  bumper.  Gentlemen,  long  as 
I  have  been  conversant  with  forensic  disputation,  and  not  entirely  a 
stranger  to  the  more  ornate  and  elaborate  eloquence  of  the  festive 
board,  I  am  free  to  say  that  my  impressions  at  this  moment  go  to 
impress  me  with  a  lively  conviction  that  I  never  rose  to  address  any 
assembly  of  Christian  citizens  under  feelings  and  impressions  of 
that  character  of  trepidation,  hesitation,  and  an  accumulation  of 
diffident  scrupulosities,  with  which  I,  at  this  moment,  rise  to  pro- 
pose, gentlemen,  a  bumper  toast  to  this  Enlightened  Society.  I  say, 
gentlemen,  that  it  is  the  most  anxious,  the  most  nervous  moment  of 
my  existence.  And  yet,  gentlemen,  when  I  look  around  me,  and 
contemplate  the  benignity  with  which  so  many  eminent  and  illus- 
trious men  are  condescending  enough  to  receive  me  upon  this  occa- 
sion, it  asks  no  mighty  effort  of  candor,  gentlemen,  to  confess,  as  I 
now  do  not  fear  to  confess,  that  I  rise  with  pride  and  confidence  in 
this  very  distinguished  circle.  Gentlemen,  year  follows  year,  lus- 
trum lustrum,  and  decad  decad.  Time  flows  on,  my  lud;  genera- 
tions pass  into  oblivion,  and  are,  in  fact,  lost  sight  of;  but  when 
the  body  fails,  the  spirit  may  be  immortal :  and  that,  my  lud — that, 
gentlemen — that  high,  that  heroic, — standing  here  as  I  do, — T  will 
add,  that  holy  thought,  that  it  is,  my  lud,  that  in  that  way  which  1 
cannot  adequately  express,  is  uppermost  in  my  bosom,  and  that  1 
hope  and  trust  meets  with  a  responsive  echo,  gentlemen,  in  every 
bosom  that  beats  on  that  bench.  Gentlemen,  I  feel  but  too  deeply 
that  I  have  not  sufficiently  developed  all  the  fbelings  which,  at  this 
moment,  agitate,  and,  I  may  say,  overwhelm  my  sensations ;  but, 
gentlemen,  cold  and  unworthy  as  this  brief  address  may  be,  I  shall 
haye  miserably  indeed  disappointed  my  own  most  fervid  wishes,  the 


Digitized  by 


Google 


NOBTH  ASD  TH£  LAWTSBS.  41 

most  ardent  aspirations,  gentlemen,  of  mj  own  heart,  mind,  sou), 
and  intellect,  if,  my  luds,  I  have  failed  to  convey  to  your  lordships' 
bosoms  some  faint  notices  of  these  emotions — emotions,  gentlemen, 
of  which,  while  life  continues  to  animate  the  veins  in  this  hand, — 
while  patriotism,  gentlemen,  while  patriotism,  honor,  and  faith,  ate 
not  yet  expelled  from  my  heart  of  hearts, — I  venture  to  assure  you, 
gentlemen,  I  for  one,  shall  never  be  ashamed — no — never  !  In  one 
word,  then,  gentlemen,  I  perceive  that  all  minor  deficiencies  and 
lapses  are  merged,  as  they  ought  to  be,  and  ever  will  be,  and  ever 
have  been,  in  that  deep  and  sacred  feeling  of  devotion  and  rever- 
ence with  which  you  are  all  prepared  to  drink  what,  in  spite  of  the 
two  immortal  names  that  have  already  received  your  plaudits,  I 
will  venture,  gentlemen,  to  pronounce  the  toast  of  this  evening.* 
Gentlemen,  this  is  the  20th  of  March,  1828.  (The  devil  it  is/  Hear, 
hear  I)  This  day,  gentlemen,  is  the  anniversary  of  that  day  on  which 
the  illustrious  Christopher  North  first  opened  his  eyes  upon  a  world 
which  his  genius  and  virtue  were  destined  to  illuminate,  gentlemen, 
to  delight,  to  instruct,  and  to  revivify.  {Hear^  hear.)  This,  gentle- 
men, is  the  seventy-third  birthday  of  our  immortal  host  Gentle- 
men, I  add  no  more.  Here  is  Christopher  North !  Health,  strength, 
and  length  of  days,  to  the  illustrious  Caledonian,  the  Champion  of 
the  Faith !     {Immense  applause — three  times  three^  dtc.  dtc.  <6c.) 

Shepherd,  Let's  gie  him  time  to  think  o'  thanks.     Here's  a  sang 
— ^ye'll  no  be  backward  at  the  tchorus.     (Sings,) 

Tkine^ — (/tr  the  Muir  amang  the  Heather, 

Id  Embro  town  they  made  a  law, 

Id  Embro  at  the  Oomi;  o'  SessioD, 
That  Kit  and  his  lads  were  fautors  a*  I 
Ad'  guilty  o'  a  high  traoegreasioD. 
Decreet  o'  the  Court  o*  Session ; 
Act  Sederunt  o*  the  Session; 
Kit  North  and  his  crew  were  fkutors  a, 
Ajm!  guilty  o*  a  high  transgression. 

In  the  Parliament  Houne  the  Whigs  were  croo64. 

In  the  Parliament  House  at  the  Court  o*  Session ; 
There  was  Cobnin  to  blaw,  and  Jamffrey  to  oraw — 
Oroos«ness  and  gahs  their  best  possession. 
Decreet  o*  the  Court  o*  Session, 
Act  sederwii  o*  their  Session ; 
Whiggery*s  light,  and  Whi^  are  bright^ 
An*  a  Tory  creed  is  a  fo(H*s  transgression.! 

*Tbi«  It  a  pretty  lair  sample  of  the  peooUar  deioription  of  oratorj  called  "  after-din  n 
Mocs  **— M. 


tlnallasioa  to  one  of  the  many  libel-niits  into  whioh  Blaokwood*i  Mafasine  beoarae  in< 
voWed  by  iu  wit  and  pereonality.  At  length,  flndinjc  that  jnriee  gare  very  email  damages, 
and  thai  the  notoriety  rather  served  than  injured  the  msgazine,  parties  sot  to  pocket  the  affronts, 
and  then,  the  personalities  csme  to  an  end.  Messrs.  Coclcburn  and  Jemey,  both  of  whom  sub- 
seqnently  were  made  Scottish  Jndges,  almost  inrariably  were  employe<l  to  plead  af&in»t 
Blackwood.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


4S  NOcrrHS  ambbosian  jb. 

Id  Embro  town  there  dwallt  a  man 

That  never  gan^  near  their  Court  o'  Seesbn, 
A  Tif  aald  man,  wi*  a  drap  in  hie  can, 
Has  gien  a*  the  Whigs  id  the  land  a  threahio', 
Deereet  o'  his  Court  o'  Session, 
Act  sederunt  o*  his  Session ; 
Tlio  Whigs  the?  are  neerdo\veels.  great  and  sma'. 
And  cheap,  cheap  o*  a  heai*ty  thrtsshin*. 

Frae  Embro  town  his  word  gangs  out 

Frae  Ambrose*  spence,  his  Court  o*  Session, 
And  the  deevil  a  prig  that  stinks  o*  Whig, 
But  dumfounder'd  he  sinks  in  consternation. 
Decreet  o*  tliis  Court  o'  Session, 
Act  sederunt  o*  the  Session ; 
The  Whigs  are  fonnd  out,  and  in  sicean  a  rout, 
That  their  burdies  are  scantily  worth  a  threahiii'. 

Norih^  {<m  his  legs  without  crutch.)  Gentlemen,  many  thanks  to 
you  for  your  prose  eulogies  and  your  verse  eulogies,  and  for  the 
strenuous  eulogies  of  your  hurras;  and,  above  all,  for  the  sterling 
and  precious  eulogies  of  your  friendly  looks.  I  feel  myself  very 
happy  at  this  moment — I  have  done  my  duty — I  have  succeeded  in 
all  that  I  have  wished  to  perform — and  my  health,  thank  God,  is 
very  tolerable  for  a  Septegenarian  Whig-hater.  Gentlemen,  I  am 
not  in  the  habit  of  making  long  speeches.  1  thank  you  heaitily  for 
your  countenance  on  this  occasion ;  and  I  beg  leave  to  thank  you 
very  seriously  in  this  bumper  of  port,  for  the  support  you  have 
afforded  the  King,  our  royal  and  gracious  master,  my  excellent  friend 
the  Duke  of  Wellington,  and  myself,  a1)  throu<rh  the  troublesome 
nine  months  which  it  cost  us  three  to  eject  the  Whigs,  and  to  dam- 
age the  Philo-whigs  so  completely,  that  it  can  no  longer  be  of  the 
smallest  consequence  either  to  Turk,  Jew,  or  Christian,  what  they 
do  or  what  they  say,  whether  they  be  all  out  of  place,  or  only  all 
out  of  character,  influence,  and  power.*  Gentlemen,  fill  your 
glasses.  I  beg  to  drink  the  immortal  memories  of  the  Right 
Honorable  William  Pitt,  and  the  Most  Noble  Robert  Marquis  of 
Londonderry ;  and  may  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  acting  steadily  on 
their  principles,  and  trusting  exclusively  to  their  friends  and  disci- 
ples, complete  the  great  work  he  has  so  gallantly  begun  ;  and  hav- 

*  In  Angtitt,  1827,  the  death  of  Canning,  the  Premier,  rendered  it  neeeeiary  to  form  a  nev 
Minivtrv  in  England.  On  Dogberrf't  principle  of  ehooeing  '-  the  made  diertien  man.*^  Lord 
Ooderiek  (no\r  Earl  of  Ripon)  was  selected  as  Prime  Minister,  and  most  np  a  Cabinet  oonsist- 
inf  of  the  fafr-end  of  the  Canning  Administration,  a  few  wavering  Tories,  and  a  brace  of 
office-seeking  WbifTS.  Until  Parliament  met.  this  ministry  had  notning  to  do — and  did  it! 
Feeling  his  cwn  ntter  incapacity,  Lord  Goderich  resigned,  snd  the  Dnke  of  Wellinrton  relin- 
quishing his  office  of  Commander-in-Chief,  became  Premier.  He  carried  the  habiu  of  the 
orderly-room  and  the  camp  into  the  Treasury— rising  at  7,  commencing  business  at  8,  insisting 
on  all  other  officials  also  doing  their  work,  and  greatlr  simplifying  the  routine  of  coTemment. 
The  Tory  party,  who  little  imagined  how  soon  their  (aTuhte  would  astonish  theml>y  granting 
Catbolie  Kmancipationi  which  at  one  time  he  strongly  opposed,  were  in  raptures  at  the  Dnke% 
sMosaion  to  power.— M , 


Digitized  by 


Google 


POBT-PRAKDIAL  OBATOBT.  48 

ing  heretofore  saved  England  and  Europe  in  the  field,  finally  rescue 
his  country  and  the  cause  of  order  and  government  all  over  the 
world,  from  the  bad  consequences  of  Whig  and  Philo-whig  practice, 
and  the  worse  consequence  of  Whig  and  Philo-whig  theories! 
Solemn  silence,  gentlemen  all, — Ti  va{  ysgas  stfrt  tfavovrwv  ! 

Shepherd.  Hand  him  there,  lir.  Tickler,  if  that's  no  twae  words 
o'  Latin  I'm  a  Pagan  Greek. 

Norths  {filling  two  bumpers,)  I  sip  corrected. 

Shepherd.  Mr.  Macrabin,  I  think  naething  o'  your  way  o'  speakin*. 
Ton's  no  real  oratory.  It's  a'  made  at  hame,  and  muckle  pains  it 
maun  cost  ye  to  gie't  an  extemporaneous  air  o'  deception.  You 
couldna  propose  Mr.  North's  health  in  anither  speech  the  noo  aff 
haun? 

Macrabin^  {hern.)  I  now  rise,  my  lud,  under  sensations  of  that 
sort,  my  luds,  that  it  may  be  difficult  for  you,  sittin  there  as  you  do, 
to  understand,  gentlemen.  Gentlemen,  1  beg  leave  to  remind  you, 
that  this  is  the  evening  of  the  first  day  of  April,  anno  doniini,  one 
thousand,  eight  hundred,  and  twenty -eight,*  (A«ir,  hear!)  And 
now,  gentlemen,  when  I  have  mentioned  this  fact,  for  a  fact  I  say  it 
is,  and  1  fear  not  to  bottom  this  averment  on  all  the  almanacks  of 
the  day,  be  they  of  Aberdeen,  or  Poor  Robin,  or  Francis  Moore, 
physician,  or  Henry  Brouoham,  schoolmaster-in-chief  of  the  nine- 
teenth century,  {hear!)  But  to  return,  gentlemen,  I  venture  to 
oliserve,  in  limine,  that  there  are  a  thousand  reasons,  gentlemen, 
why  this  particular  night  ought  to  be  cherished,  and  hallowed,  and 
venerated,  and  crowned  with  glory,  and  honor,  and  reverence,  gen* 
tlemcn,  by  every  man,  woman,  and  child  {hear^  hear !)  in  the 
dominions  of  Geoi^e  the  Fourth,  by  the  grace  of  God,  of  Great 
Britain  and  Ireland,  King,  defender  of  the  faith,  and  his  sheriffs  in 
that  part,  {hear!)  (confound  it) — I  say  there  is  indubitable  argu- 
ment, why  this  evening  should  witness  the  shedding  of  a  bumper  of 
beer,  porter,  punch,  port,  or  claret,  by  every  hunmn  Christian  now 
extant  in  the  whole  circumnavigable  globe !  {Hear,  hear  !)  Gen* 
tlemenof  the  Jury,  nor,  standing  here  as  I  do,  is  it  at  all  incumbent 
that  I  should  occupy  a  lengthy  space  of  your  precious  time,  with 
any  detailed  examination  of  the  averments  of  the  other  party, — my 
learned  friends  will  not  suspect  me  of  any  thing  personal;  no,  no, 
my  luds,  looking  merely  to  things  in  general,  and  the  broad  ex  fade 
appearance  of  the  case,  I  do  not  hesitate  to  affirm,  that  the  counter 
proposition  is  entirely,  and  totally,  and  wholly,  and  funditue,  an 
untenable  proposition — a  false,  gentlemen,  and  a  groundless,  and  an 
utterly  absurd,  and  contemptible,  and  quackish,  and  ridiculous,  and 
base,  and  vile,  and  irrelevant  proposition,  {hear,  hear^  hear!)    Such 

*  Thlf  oration  may  b«  taken  a>  a  mecimen  of  the  ordinary  post-prandial  manner  of  u«in^  a 
xnaxunnm  of  wovdt  to  onnvey  a  minimam  of  ideas. — M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


44  NCXTFES   AKBSOSIAlffiB. 

an  one,  gentlemen,  as  no  court,  no,  nor  no  jury,  would  ever  listen 
to  for  a  moment,  were  it  not  introduced,  gentlemen,  I  will,  and 
must  say  it,  under  that  portentous  and  truly  fascinating  and  basi- 
liskian  glare  of  gorgeous  and  rhetorical  embellishment,  (hear/)  and 
amplification,  with  which  no  one,  as  we  all  know,  knows  better  how 
to  illustrate  and  decorate  the  most  untenable  and  egregious  humbug, 
(I  use  plain  language  on  a  plain  subject^  gentlemen,)  than  the 
learned  gentleman  whom  we  have  had  the  high  satisfaction  of  hear* 
ing,  my  lud,  since  this  court  assembled.  {Bear,  hear/)  Now,  to 
return,  I  venture  to  assert,  that  the  reason  of  the  case  is  as  plain, 
clear,  distinct,  and  intelligible,  as  that  two  and  two  make  four,  or 
that  the  learned  gentleman  now  in  my  eye,  my  luds,  is — no  conju- 
ror— begging  his  pardon — (I  mean  no  personality):  in  a  word,  to 
descend  from  things  in  general,  to  a  brief  statement  of  the  case  now 
before  you,  this,  gentlemen,  is  the  evening  of  the  1st  of  April, — 
this  is  the  anniversary  of  a  day,  which  will  ever,  1  think,  be  hallowed 
in  the  eyes  of  the  remotest  generations  of  mankind,  and  which,  at 
all  events,  has  vivid  claims,  sitting  here  as  we  do,  upon  us,  {hear, 
hear!)  Verbum  non  ampliuSy  (hear,  Jiear !)  Gentlemen  all,  fill 
your  glasses;  here's  Christopher  North,  Esquire,  who  this  evening 
completes  the  seventy-third  year  of  bis  age,  gentlemen,  (hear,  hear!) 
and  many  happy  returns  to  him  of  the  1st  of  April.  Christopher 
North,  gentlemen,  long  life  to  him,  and  prosperity  to  Maga  the 
Great  !--(^//  the  honors — Immense  applause,  dtc,  dtc,  dtc.) 

North,  {with  his  crutch,)  Gentlemen,  I  beg  leave  to  return  you 
my  best  thanks,  for  the  kind  way  in  which  you  have  now  drunk  my 
health ;  and  1  must  also  take  the  opportunity,  since  1  am  on  my 
legs,  of  thanking  you  for  your  valuable  and  steady  support  of  Maga 
the  Great,  as  our  facetious  friend  has  been  pleased  to  call  her ;  and 
especially  for  your  efficient  assistance  and  inflexible  fidelity  to  the 
high  and  holy  cause  of  Protestant  Toryism,  all  through  the  late 
eventful  crisis  of  the  political  concerns  of  this  country.  You,  gen- 
tlemen, were  faithful  found  among  the  faithless ;  {hear,  hear!)  and 
now  that  the  horizon  is  clearing,  1  believe  I  may  venture  to  assure 
you,  that  neither  pilot  nor  f^ailor,  who  helped  to  weather  the  storm, 
are  at  all  likely  to  be  forgotten  by  either  owner  or  passengers. 
{Hear,  hear,  hear !)  Gentlemen,  we  have  had  a  hard  tussle ;  but 
Providence  has  been  pleased  to  bestow  blessing  and  success  in  the 
long  run,  where  these  were  best  deserved,  {hear/)  and  1  think  my 
good  friend  the  Duke  of  Wellington  and  myself  may  now  be  safely 
said  to  be  pretty  well  upon  our  seats  again.  {Hear,  hear  /)  And, 
by-the-by,  f  don't  think  I  can  do  better  than  propose  his  Grace's 
health,  {hear/)  He  writes,  to-day,  that  his  tumble  from  his  cab 
was  a  mere  scratch,  and  that  he  has  already  quite  recovered  that, 


Digitized  by 


Google 


<«THB    duke"  or  DOWmNG-STREET.  45 

(hear^  hear!)  but  nevertheless,  here  goes— Arthur,  Duke  of  Wel- 
lington ;  may  his  days  be  many  and  his  glory  full ! 

Tickler.  With  all  my  heart ;  and  may  I  propose  this  small  addi- 
tion ? — May  be  see  clearly,  and  adhere  steadily  to  the  principle, 
that  the  nation  is  Tory,  and  that  other  vital  principle,  that  concilia- 
tion is  humbug,     {Bear^  hear,  hear/) 

0/nnet.  The  Duke,  God  bless  him,  and  hang  conciliation  I — 
(  Three-timei'three.) 

Tickler,  I  believe.  Sir  Morgan,  you  have  just  arrived  in  Auld 
Reekie. 

Odoherty.  Or  you  should  have  seen  me  at  Southside.  I  came 
right  through  on  the  Mail ;  for  you  know  I  was  absent  last  birth- 
day, and  I  could  not  think  of  playing  the  truant  twice. 

North.  Thank  ye,  Odoherty.  Well,  and  how  lefb  you  the  ene- 
my ? — all  at  blank,  eht — Quite  down  in  the  mouth?— No  symptoms 
of  resurrection  1 

Odoherty.  Not  a  twist. 

Tickler.  And  the  Duke  looking  well  % 

Odoherty.  Never  better.  1  saw  him  cantering  old  Blanco  White, 
as  usual,  down  Whitehall,  the  moniing  I  started,  as  fresh  as  a  daisy. 
Hang  it,  he's  not  the  boy  to  be  worried  and  worn-out  like  a  parcel 
of  prating  mountebanks.  Do's  the  word.  Indeed  I  am  told,  the 
first  address  he  made  to  his  cabinet  was, — ^^  Gentlemen,  I  hope 
you'll  excuse  me  for  one  hint  preliminary — Do  as  much  as  you  can, 
and  say  as  little." 

Tickler.  ^^  Jmperatoria  brevitasP^  I  beg  your  pardon,  Jamea, 
give  me  the  Bordeaux. 

Shepherd.  The  schoolmaster  is  abroad,  Hairy  Brougham  ;*  and  I 
hope  ye'll  find  the  length  o'  the  taws  yoursell  bely ve.  You'll  be 
nane  the  waur  o'  somo.  mair  schulin*.  I  wish  the  Duke  wad  ca'  a 
new  paurliament,  and  kick  oot  a'  the  dregs  o'  the  Cannin's  pairty. 

Tickler.  Oh,  nonsense !  What  signifies  it  whether  they  are  all 
out  of  place,  or  only  all  and  every  mother'^  son  of  them  out  of 
character,  influence,  and  power?  (Hear,  hear!)  They  may  make 
fair  clerks,  some  of  them.     Let  them  alone,  James. 

Shepherd.  Oh !  but  I  wad  mak  a  clean  house  o'  the  haill  tott  o' 
them.  1  hae  nae  faith  in  sic  creepy,  sleiky,  cunning  creatures; 
they'll  bear  onything,  or  they  would  never  hae  staid  wi'  the  Duke ; 
and  neither  him  nor  Peel  ever  to  gie  them,  no  even  the  whistle  o^ 
a  bonny  word,  in  favor  o'  either  Navareen  nor  free  tred.f  £y ! 
sirs,  some  folk  hae  grand  stoot  stamachs  o'  their  ain  ! 

*  One  of  BroQf  liam*i  ramaifcs,  aboat  this  tim*.  irhioh  has  beeome  sa  aphwiim.  was  ia  com- 
iMBt  on  Uie  fact  that  England  was  ruled  by  a  military  Premiar  :  the  soldier  sits  in  the  Cabi- 
net, said  he,  inteading:  to  f oTern  by  sword  aad  ordaanoe,  bat  I  would  tell  him  that  tks  mAm/- 
SMsCsr  is  utnMd'—'tA., 

t  In  Jolf,  189S,  Mr.  Caaaiaf  had  made  a  treaty  by  whieh  Bajrland  boaad  herself  to  support 


Digitized  by 


Google 


46  HOOrBS  AMBBOSIAN^ 

Odoherty,  Pooh !  pooh  !  Mr.  Hogg,  you  rusticals  are  apt  to  take 
things  rather  too  seriously.  Why,  man,  do  but  consider  £4000, 
£5000,  £0000,  £10,000  per  annum,  James— these  are  pretty  things, 
besides  the  pretty  houses  and  the  pretty  pickings.  Oh,  dear  sir, 
you  don't  understand  the  world  as  it  is. 

Shepherd,  Aiblins  no  ;  but  I  understand  aboot  eneugh  to  gar  me 
despise  maist  feck  o*  the  upper  pairt  o't  gayen  heartily. 

Iforth,  It  is  very  sad  to  say  it,  James  Hogg,  even  here  among 
friends,  but  it  is  a  world  worse  to  know  and  feel  it,  that  the  charac- 
ter of  our  public  men,  in  general,  has  sustained,  during  these  twelve 
months  bygone,  a  very  considerable  deal  of  damage.  Who  has 
escaped  ?  Hnng  me,  my  cocks,  if  I  can  lay  my  hand  oi]  more  than 
three  at  this  moment.     The  dear  Duke,  of  course,  being  one. 

Sh^herd.  And  honest  auld  John  o'  £ldon  another. 

Odoherty.  And  Peel. 

North,  Peut^^tre — but  no,  I  meant  my  Lord  Melville— Scotland 
has  reason  to  be  proud  of  that  nobleman.*  As  to  Peel,  nobody  can 
admire  his  talents,  or  his  principles,  in  the  main,  more  than  myself; 
but  between  ourselves,  he  is  afraid  of  bearding  the  Liberals ;  and  if 
that  feeling  be  not  subdued,  say  and  do  as  he  may,  he  will  never  be 
an  efficient  House  of  Commons'  Aaron  for  our  admirable  Moses^ — 
who,  by-the-by,  seems  to  need  no  Aaron  at  all,  at  all,  in  the  Lords. 

Odoherty,  He  indeed  !  Why,  no  man  speaks  better — plain,  clear, 
distinct,  manly,  downright — just  as  Lord  Dudley  said,  the  tm/>^atorta 
brevitas.  Why,  the  House  of  Lords  have  too  much  sense  to  listen 
to  long  speeches  from  any  body.  Even  poor  dear  Canning  would 
have  been  extirguished  in  a  fortnight. 

Tickler,  Canning !  extinguished ! !  O  dear !  O  dear  i  what  a 
world  this  is ! 

"  Ah  !  who  would  climb  the  solar  height^ 
To  set  in  such  a  starless  night  f 

GrMet  ia  Uie  ttniffirle  for  ind«p«nd«Be«.  Tn  September.  I8S7,  Ibrmhim  Paeba,  the  Tvriciih  GoV' 
•morof  Gieeoe,  agreed  with  theadniirala  of  the  combined  flecu  of  England,  France,  and  Rnsala, 
to  lutpead  hoitilitie*  againat  the  Greeks,  preparatory  to  a  treaty  of  peace.  He  rioiated  the 
trace,  and  the  allied  fleeta,  which  had  blockaded  the  Turkiah  fleet  in  the  harbor  of  NaTarino. 
immediately  entered  the  port.  The  Turka  fired  into  an  Engliah  ahip  and  a  battle  enaaed, 
(Oct.  220. 18:27,)  in  which  the  Tnrkiah  fleet  waa  al moat  annihilated,  and  by  which  the  independ- 
ence of  Greece  waa  Tirtnally  achieved.  The  Tnrka  reaiated,  and  war  with  Rnaaia  waa  the  re- 
aalu  Turkey  defended  well,  at  flrat,  but  in  the  aecond  campaign,  the  Raaaiana  forced  the  paaaage 
of  the  Balkan,  captured  Adrianople  (the  aecond  city  in  the  empire,)  and  forced  theSulun  to 
eonaeat  to  terroa  of  peace,  dictated  (not  very  harahfy)  almoat  at  the  very  gatea  of  Conatanti- 
aople.  When  Parliament  met,  after  the  navai  conflict,  the  King'aapeeoh  mentioned  the  battle  of 
Navarino  aa  '*  an  antoward  eTent.''  The  moctcuriooa  fact  waa.  that  Sir  Edward  Codrington, 
the  Dritiah  Admiral,  had  atrictly  obeyed  hia  inatmotiona,  which  were  not  to  fire  a  ahot  until 
the  Turka  fint  acted  on  the  offenaive  and  that  the  Lord  High  Admiral,  (then  Duke  of  Clarence, 
and  afterwarde  William  IV.)  when  dispatching  theae  inatruotiona,  actually  wrote  the  emphatic 
worda.  '*  Ow  iU  J^ed^"  under  hia  official  aignature  !— M. 

The  aeoond  Yiaoount  Melville,  aon  of  lUnry  Dandaa,  the  trlend  and  aupporter  cf  William 
Pitt—who  deaerted  him  at  the  end !— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


THE  WELUNOTON   MINISIKY.  47 

Macrabin.  The  tappit  hen's  with  jou,  Mr.  Tickler  ?* 

Tickler,  Here,  North,  I  shall  shove  her  along  the  mantel-pieoe  to 
jon.  Pray,  Odoherty,  speaking  quite  among  ourselves,  what  are 
the  true  people  saying  to  it  in  town  t 

Odoherty.  Deuoed  little.  But,  hang  it !  there's  no  denying  the 
fact,  they  arc  not  pleased. 

Tickler.  I  thought  so.  The  Quarterly  mum  as  a  mouse  as  to 
things  in  general,  but  bold  enough  as  to  the  corn,  and  on  the  right 
side,  I  am  happy  to  see — John  bull  grumbling  audibly — ^the  Post 
still  at  its  post,  as  if  Ellen  borough  were  not  gagged — the  Standard 
dropping  odd  hints — why,  the  new  God  really  seems  to  have  no 
thoroughstitch  advocate  in  the  London  press  of  any  consequence, 
except  the  Courier  and  New  Times,  both  of  which  concerns  it  will 
take  time  to  place  where  they  were  before  the  rat  at  the  strike. 
This  looks  baddish,  don't  it  ? 

Odohertif.  Why,  so  far  as  the  Duke  is  concerned,  I  believe  there 
has  been  no  minister  since  Pitt  so  universally  trusted  :  but  he,  I 
daresay,  had  more  difficulties  to  get  over  than  we  know  of.  And  to 
speak  the  plain  fact,  he  fell  into  one  or  two  blunders.  The  leaving 
out  old  Eldon  was  one ;  and,  with  reverence  be  it  said,  the  taking 
in  Lord  Ellenborough,  clever  speaker  as  he  may  be,  was  another — 
he  is  a  man  without  either  blood,  or  land,  or  money  even  ;  and  his 
stool  might  have  been  more  efficiently  filled.f 

North.  1  once  heard  him  speak,  and  think  he  will  turn  out  a 
valuable  hand  in  the  long  run — why  was  he  taken  in  % 

Odoherty.  He  can  speak  well,  and  fears  no  Whig — and  he  had 
heard  so  much  of  the  private  feelings,  in  certain  quarters,^  about 
that  bloody  blunder  of  the  noodle  Oudrington,  that  when  mum  was 
to  be  the  word,  it  was,  I  suppose,  thought  or  felt  to  be  a  matter  of 
necessity  to  take  him  into  the  firm  bodily. 

North.  So  Metternich's  coming  over,  1  bear.|  How  will  he  man- 
age with  Dudley  t 

Odoherty.  O,  he'll  manage  them  all,  except  the  Duke,  who  will 
manage  him.  He'll  cut  no  jokes  about  the  new  Premier,  such  as  bo 
sent  home  to  the  sensitive  heart  of  poor  Canning. 

North.  Of  Canning?    Jokes? 

*  Tkypit  ken^—in  drinking,  this  nsuallj  mM.aift  tin  pot,  with  a  knob  on  the  top,  containing 
a  Gnan  of  ale. — M. 
t  Considerine  that  Lord  Eldon  waa  77  yean  old  at  this  time,  and  by  far  too  altra  in  his  Tory 

Colitics  (or  Wellington's  new  system  of  moderate  concessions  to  the  people,  the  not  restoring 
im  to  the  Ministry  and  tlie  Woolsack  was  the  reTcrse  of  a  blander.  In  his  place.  Lord  Lynd- 
hofit,  (son  of  Copley,  the  American  painter,)  wss  continued,  and  was  as  pliant  as  coald  be 
desired  at  ihe  proper  time.  Lord  Elienboroogh,  albeit  an  able  man,  was  unfitted  for  such  s 
lesponsiblo  post  ss  that  of  conducting  the  gorernment  of  the  East  Indies,  and  afterwards 
showed  snch  marked  inefficiency,  when  Governor-General  of  India,  that  he  was  peremptorily 
loealled.— M. 
1  As  erineed  by  the  '*  O0  it.  Jfed  "  instructions.—M. 

I  For  forty  years,  Prince  Metternich.  Foreij^n  Minister  of  Austria,  was  the  most  powerfnl 
subject  in  Europe.  The  Rerolntion  of  1848  drove  him  Izom office  and  into  exile.  He  retam«d 
to  Austria  m  1651,  but  has  not  resumed  office.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


48  Nocmn  Au^uio&iASM. 

Odoherty,  Aje,  to  be  sure ;  did  jou  never  hear  the  real  history 
of  the  Treaty  of  London  f 

North.  Not  I,  truly. 

Odoherty,  It  was  this.  Mettemich  writing  to  Princess  Lieven 
about  the  St  Petersburgh  Protocol,  said  '*  Parturiunt  montu — Can- 
ning's bell  enfant  du  nord^  will  be,  after  all,  Ml-hom.^^  }Ay  lady^ 
shortly  aAer  this,  chose  to  resent  some  part  of  Mettemich's  pro- 
ceedings— his  marriage,  I  believe ;  and  Canning,  who  was  at  that 
time  doing  his  poesibU  in  the  corps  diplomatique,  chancing  to  be  in 
her  boudoir  one  pretty  morning  among  '*  the  wee  short  hours,"  the 
fair  dame  thought  fit  to  show  him  the  old  Fox's  taunting  epistle. 
You  may  guess  the  effect  on  the  vainest  man  in  EUirope.  He  went 
home  biting  his  nails,  and  war,  war,  war-~ 

North,  lantsene  animis  coelestibus  irset  Good  God!  what  are 
we  made  off     Yet  was  George  Canning  made  of  the  finest  clay. 

Macrabin,  What  a  scandalous  concern  was  all  that  explanation- 
row  I  Upon  my  word,  The  Times  made  me  sick  for  a  week  on 
end. 

Tickler.  No  wonder — gabble,  gabble,  gabble— guarantee,  guaran- 
tee, guarantee, — pledge^  pledge,  pledge — fudge,  fudge,  fudge. 

Odoheriy,  Perhaps  you  have  not  heard  of  the  real  history  of  the 
break-up  of  the  patch-work  neither  f 

North.  Possibly  not.  But  say  on.  Have  you  seen  the  last 
Number! 

Odoherty,  I  don't  take  in  your  magazine. 

North.  But  every  other,  editors  and  all. 

Shepherd.  Hem! 

Odoherty.  Truth  never  lies  in  a  well,  but  always  in  a  nut-shell. 
The  Whigs  at  last,  after  months  of  work,  extorted  from  a  high 
quarter  a  most  reluctant  consent  to  the  coming  in  of  Lord  Holland. 
The  consent  was  given,  but  every  one  felt  from  that  hour  that  the 
confidence  was  gone.  The  Tories — Herries  and  Copley,  I  mean-^- 
took  heart  of  graoe  accordingly,  and  so  the  smash.  The  immediate 
cause  however,  was  old  Tiemey's  eternal  babbling  at  Brookes's. 
That  disgusted  Huskisson ;  and  when  he  was  willing  to  separate 
from  the  faction,  what  bolt  had  they  to  keep  the  concern  together  1 
Lord  Goderich,  who  is  worth  fifty  thousand  Huskissons,  bad  no 
more  the  sort  of  tact  for  managing  matters  among  such  a  set  of 
hungry  griping  tricksters,  than  for  being  an  attorney  or  a  stock-job- 
ber. There  was,  by-the-by,  another  original  element  of  ruin. 
Goderich  never  trusted  Brougham — and  Brougham,  who  had  made 
Canning  his  own,  soul  and  bod v,  revolted,  in  Aut,  from  the  hour 
that  Lansdowne  failed  for  the  Premiership,  i ou  can  see  the  ^tfin 
against  Goderich  in  the  last  Edinburgh,  plain  enough — and  that 
could  be  nothing  but  the  Barrister's,  and  would  be  Lord  Chancel- 


Digitized  by 


Google 


8TATB  or  PABTIB8.  49 

lor's  own  pri'vate  gum  ;  for  he,  in  truth,  sacrificed  his  Premiership 
to  the  Whig  leaders;  and  moreover,  was  left  out  by  the  Duke, 
•implj  and  solely  on  account  of  his  feelings,  of  a  personal  nature,  in 
regard  to  Lord  Lansdowne,  and  Lord  Holland,  and  Lord  Carlisle. 

North,  Your  story  is  probable,  and  nnay  be  gospel.  But  really 
now^  who  cares  about  these  things  ?  There  are  present  difficulties 
enough,  God  knows.  There  are,  as  Grant's  speech  anent  the  corn 
k,  of  itself,  abundant  evidence,  two  parties  still  in  the  Cabinet — and 
it  is  clear  enough,  that  de  facto  there  is  all  but  a  professed  opposition 
of  a  worse  sort  still  going  on — I  mean  the  opposition  of  the  House 
of  Commons  to  the  House  of  Lords. 

Odoherty.  Most  true.  Canning  had  completely  taken  possession 
of  all  the  young  fry  in  the  Lower  House,  and  there  they  are  now,  a 
pack  of  empty-headed,  solemn  economists,  prigs  and  doits,  ready  to 
stick  to  any  leader  who  will  cant  the  liberal  slang  of  the  day, — I 
mean  to  any  one  of  that  stamp  but  Huskisson.  He  has  been  da- 
maged, so  that,  for  the  present,  he  is  pretty  near  powerless  with  them 
— but  time  soon  wipes  out  all  impressions  from  light  minds,  and  let 
Peel  look  to  himself  and  his  leadership  against  another  session.* 

North.  What  an  egregious  pack  of  slumberers  the  old  Tory  Lords 
are  1  Why  can't  they  open  their  eyes,  and  see  that  it  will  not  do 
to  keep  their  seats  in  the  Commons,  lumbered  with  all  this  brood  of 
idle  Lord  Johns  and  Lord  Harries — that  if  they  mean  to  save  any- 
thing, they  can  only  do  it  by  looking  about  them,  and  putting  in 
fellows  that  have  both  brains  and  tongues  to  do  their  business  for 
them  ?     The  interest  will  go  to  pot  if  they  persist  much  longer. 

Tickler,  Strange  blindness  I  Can't  they  look  over  the  land,  and 
perceive  a  fact  which  stares  all  but  themselves  in  the  face,  that  the 
literary  talent  and  influence  of  this  nation  is,  to  a  fraction,  with 
them  and  their  just  cause ;  and  then  ask  of  themselves  how  the 
deuce  it  happens,  that  in  the  House  of  Commons,  the  talent,  and 
the  influence  of  talent,  are  to  a  fraction  against  them  ?  By 
Heavens !  if  we  had  the  Dukes  of  Rutland  and  Newcastle  here, 
I  think  it  would  be  no  hard  matter  to  put  them  up  to  a  thing  or 
two. 

Odoherty,  Pooh  !  pooh !  They  have  as  clover  a  fellow  as  any  of 
US  among  themselves — Lord  Lowther.f 

North.  They  have;  but  LoMther  is  one  of  themselyes,  and  there- 
fore the  prayer  of  Timotheus,  may  still  stand, — 

*  H«tldflioii  attempted  to  ^'n  more  prepoaderance  in  the  Wellinrton  Cabinet,  while  also 
flehinf  for  ponnlaritj  ont  of  il.  than  the  Dalie  likeJ,  and  was  turned  ont  in  a  Tery  snmmarj 
manner,  at  the  earliest  opportanity.  Hii  conrnUive  eflbrts  to  continue  in  offioe  excited  eo 
mnch  laochur  and  contempt  that  his  character,  as  a  public  mas,  sank  to  zero.— M. 

t  Notr  Earl  of  Lonsdale.  He  ira>  President  of  the  Conncil  in  Lord  Derbr's  Administra- 
tion, ISA— M. 

Vol.  HL— 5 


Digitized  by 


Google 


60  KOCTKB   AMBKOSIAK^. 

"  O  wad  some  power  the  giftie  gie  xm, 
To  see  ourMiyea  as  others  see  us  T 

Shepherd,  I  wad  like  to  be  a  member  of  it,  war  it  but  for  ae 
single  session.  And  aiblins  when  they  were  discussing  com,  or 
sheep,  or  nowt,  or  the  sawmon  quastion,  I  could  tell  them  as  meikle 
practical  sense  as  ever  a  laird  or  lord  in  the  bang — it  1  could. 

North,  The  honorable  and  learned  member  for  Selkirk,  Pee- 
bles, Lanark,  and  Linlithgow,  hath  said  well.  Bj-the-by,  talking  of 
Laidlaw,  why  does  Allan  Cunningham  call  him  Walter  f — and  why 
does  the  Edinburgh  Reviewer  repeat  the  blunder ! — I  was  glad, 
however,  to  see  that  Jeffrey  had  the  sense  to  quote  "  Lucy's  Flitting  ;** 
'tis  one  of  the  sweetest  things  in  the  world — and  William  Laidlaw 
should  take  courage  and  publish  a  volume.  Not  a  few  staves 
of  his  have  1  sung  in  the  old  days,  when  we  used  to  wash  our 
faces  in  the  Douglas'  Burn,  and  you,  James,  were  the  herd  on 
the  hill.  Oh,  me !  those  sweet,  sweet  days  o'  langsyne,  Jamie ! 
Here's  Willie  Laidlaw's  health,  gentlemen.*  Oh,  dear! — {Oreai 
applause,) 

Shepherd,  Oh,  Mr.  North  !  it's  weel  as  I  mind  you  the  first  time 
ye  cam  up  Yarrow — thirty  years  come  Lammas — yes,  it  was  just 
the  ninety -eight — and,  eh  me !  but  ye  war  a  buirdly  ane  in  thae 
days — ye  didna  look  meikle  aboon  five-and-thirty — and  nae  wonder, 
for  I'm  sure  nae  stranger  wad  take  ye  for  meikle  aboon  sixty 
now. 

North,  And  yet  I  have  been  no  Comaro,  except  as  in  keenness  of 
appetite.  Abernethy  would  speak  less  dogmatically  about  absti- 
nence and  his  eternal  fourteen  ounces  of  simple  food  and  small 
glass  of  sarsaparilla  water,  if  he  had  ever  collogued  with  some  of 
us.     Eh,  Tickler  1 

Tickler,  Yes,  indeed.  What  a  capital  book  Abemethy's  Lectures 
make !     They  have  sucked  them  out  of  the  Lancet  now,  and  you 

*  William  Laidlair  waa  the  ton  of  a  fanner  on  Uie  Donglas-bvim,  aear  KttrickPwwL  to 
whom  Hogg  had  been  shepherd  for  ten  yaars.  Scott  had  become  intimate  with  Laidlaw  ia  nia 
ooantrjexcaraionsia  quest  of  old  ballads  for  his  **MinstreUTofthe  Scottish  Border,"  and  in  1801, 
was  brought  br  him  into  a  knowledge  of  Hogg,  himself  a  lorer  and  writer  of  songs,  and  whose 
mother  was  celebrated  for  haying  by  heart  seYsrai  old  ballads  in  a  more  perfect  form  than  anr 
other  inhabitant  of  the  Vale  of  Ettriek.  Laidlaw  h^d  written  some  poetry,  and  his  songoi 
'*  Lucy's  Flitting,"— a  simple  and  pathetic  picture  of  a  poor  Ettriek  maiden's  feelinga  on  lear- 
ing  a  service  where  she  had  been  happy— has  long  and  musterer  be  a  favorite  (says  Lockhart) 
with  all  who  understand  the  delicacies  of  the  Scottish  dialect  and  the  manners  oi  the  distncft 
i»  which  the  scene  is  ^aid.  Having  failed  as  a  farmer,  he  was  invited  by  Scott  to  occupy  a 
bouse  on  his  land,  and  try  to  live  by  his  pen.  8cott  obtained  him  a  good  deal  of  work— chiefly 
eumpilation — and  finally  made  him  steward  of  the  Abbotsford  property.  Washington  Irving, 
who  met  Laidlaw  and  his  wife  at  Scott's  table,  has  warmly  praised  the  intelligence  of  his 
mind  and  the  simplicity  of  his  manners.  Moore  diaryed  him  also,  in  terms  of  praise.  Scott 
was  unable  to  hold  a  pen  during  his  severe  illness  in  1819.  and  Laidlaw  acted  as  his  amanu- 
ensia.  and  wrote  from  his  dictation  the  greater  part  of  the  Bride  of  Lammermoor,  the  whole  of 
the  Legend  of  Montroee,  and  nearly  all  of  Ivanhoe.  When  he  returned  from  Italr,  to  die, 
Laidlaw  received  him  at  Abbotsford,  and  his  first  words  were,  **Ha!  Willie  Laidiaw!  0, 
roan,  how  ofUa  have  I  thought  of  you  !"  He  attended  Soott  in  his  laat  momenta  and  followed 
him  to  kia  (»▼••— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


IIAOAZEKB  FEBSONALTTIES.  51 

xnaj  have  them  all  in  a  single  compact  stout  volume  by  themselves. 
1  took  it  with  me  t'other  da^on  the  top  of  the  mail  to  Glasgow,  and 
I  swear  I  passed  my  five  hours  most  exquisitely.  The  Hang  its  I 
and  Egadsl  and  so  forth,  give  a  wonderful  lightness  and  relief  to 
the  doctrine.  But,  as  you  say,  the  burden  of  the  whole  song  is 
fourteen  ounces  and  sarsaparilla — a  very  Sangrado. 

North,  He  has  the  honesty,  hoM'ever,  to  confess,  that  he  has  not 
always  practiced  as  he  preaches.  That  shows  life  in  a  mussel.  Oh  I 
he  must  be  the  prince  and  king  of  all  oral  instructoi's.  I  only  wish 
they  had  given  us  a  face  of  the  old  boy,  for  I  never  saw  him,  and  I 
think  no  interesting  book  ought  ever  to  be  published  without  a  cut 
of  the  inditer's  physiognomy. 

Shepherd.  What  a  capital  ane  of  your  worship  that  is  on  the  last 
new  cover  of  Maga  !  I  wish  Tammas  Cammel  would  follow  your 
example,  and  tip  us  a  sample  o'  himsell  with  the  New  Monthly.  I 
never  saw  Tammas  Cammel.     What  like  is  he*? 

North,  Never  saw  Campbell ! — ^Is  it  possible !  I  love  him,  de- 
spite his  politics. 

Tickler.  And  I ;  but  must  say,  the  personality  of  that  magazine 
of  his  begins  to  be  very  nauseous  to  me.  Why,  they  used  to  speak 
of  Ebony's  personalities — there  is  more  of  that  in  every  one  number 
of  the  New  Monthly  now^  than  there  ever  was  in  any  three  of  oura 
in  our  wildest  days — and  of  a  worse  kind.  He  has  got  some  most 
filthy  contributors  in  Dublin. 

Odoherty.  Horrid  creatures  !  I  think  their  late  attacks  on  Lord 
Manners  are  about  the  basest  thing  I  ever  met  with.*  For  what 
class  of  readers  can  these  be  meant  ? 

Tickler.  For  your  delicate  countrymen  of  the  Association,  of 
course — though  I  acquit  O'Connell.  Hang  him,  with  all  his  faults, 
Dan  is  a  gentleman. 

Odoherty,  By  libelliog  the  dying  and  the  dead, 

Morgan  has  bread  and  cheese — ^and  Shell  has  bread. 

Have  any  of  you  read  my  old  chum,  Sir  Jonah  Harrington's 

Memoirs? 

North,  Yes,  and  with  edification.    Are  his  facts  fects,  Odoherty  1 
Odoherty,  Not  knowing,  can't  say ;  but  they  are  amusing,  and 

that's  enough  for  me.    As  to  the  general  truth  of  the  picture,  I  have 

no  doubt  of  that.f 

•The  article  is  entitled,  "The  Manners  Testimonial,"  and  is  to  be  fonnd  in  the  second 
Tolnme  or  Sbeirs  "  Sketches  of  the  Irish  Bar/'  Lord  Manners  had  been  Chancellor  of  Ireland 
for  tventy  jears,  dnnng  which  he  opposed  the  Catholics,  in  public  as  well  as  in  private,  and 
when  he  was  disinissed,  it  was  not  surprising  that  one  of  them,  in  sketching  his  character  and 
eareer.  should  do  it  not  with  a  rose-scented  crayon. — M. 

t  Sir  Jonah  Barrington,  Judge  of  the  Admiralty  Court  in  Ireland,  from  1807  until  1830,  atl- 
Chor  of  Historic  Memoirs  of  Ireland,  and  of  Personal  Sketches  of  His  own  Times,  which  are 
extremely  graphic  and  lively,  and  have  obtained  mnch  popularity  whererei  ihe  English  Ian- 
guage  is  spoken. — M 


Digitized  by 


Google 


52  MOCTfiS  AHBfiOBIANJL 

North.  Does  Barrington  scribble  in  the  New  Monthly  too  1 

Odoherty,  I  think  not 

Tickler,  I  hope  your  friend  has  better  taste.  What  a  vile  system 
this  is,  of  encouraging  all  the  broken  down  roukt  of  Boulogne  and 
Dieppe  to  write  their  recollections  of  the  societies  they  were,  in 
their  better  days,  suffered  to  contaminate  in  town  !  I  venture  to 
say,  that  Harriette  Wilson  is  nothing  to  the  iuditers  of  these 
"Clubs  of  London,"  "  Drafts  on  Lafitte,"  "Anecdotes  of  the  Beef- 
steaks,'* and  so  forth,* — these  escape  valves  of  the  bitterness  of  the 
black-balled  and  the  ejected  !  Heavens  !  in  what  vile  days  we  live. 
Grub-street  has  travelled  westwards  with  a  vengeance.  Here,  fill 
a  bumper  all  round — Confimon  to  the  felon-traitort  of  the  festiwe 
board — their  panderers — and  their  paymasters  ! 

Omnes,  CJonfusion  to  the  traitors  of  the  festive  board  ! 

(Three  rounds  of  a  ^roaii.) 

North.  By-the-by,  Sir  Morgan,  what  could  induce  Campbell  to 
stuff  that  last  Magazine  of  his  with  that  stupid  piece  of  politics  t 
Who  wrote  those  drivels? 

Odoherty.  Poor  Mackintosh,  I  was  told.  He  writes  occasionally 
for  Campbell — particularly  that  inimitable  series  of  jeuxd&^leer^ 
entitled,  "Opinions  for  1826,  1827,  1828,"  <fec.  Poor  Jemmy  ap. 
pears  to  be  on  his  last  legs.  He  was  just  in  full  scent,  on  a  very 
good  permanent  snuggery,  when  the  machinery  of  the  Whig-jobbers 
suddenly  broke  the  main-spring  in  January  last. 

North,  Ah !  he  was  one  of  a  legion  of  such  sufferers.  What  a 
pretty  number  of  sly  threads  were  a-weaving !  We  saw  something 
of  it  here,  but  we  had  not  time  for  a  belly-full.     It  was  coming. 

Shepherd,  Say  as  ye  like ;  the  Whi^s  are  better  friends  man  the 
Tories.  They're  no  fear*d  to  lend  a  lift  to  folk,  that  have  stood  by 
them  when  their  backs  were  at  the  wa'.  As  for  our  folk,  they're 
poor  pluckless  chields  anent  thae  things  in  common.  Let  me  see 
a  single  man  of  genius  that  they're  done  onything  for  in  our  time. 
There's  Cammel  has  his  pension,  and  there's  Dugald  Stewart  got  an 
eight-and-twenty  years'  renewal  of  his  patent  sinecure,  only  the  day 
afore  the  Omnigatherum  were  turned  out.f  When  will  ye  hear  of 
our  friends  doing  onything  like  that  for  the  like  of  me  or  Allan 
Cynningham,  or  ony  other  man  o'  genius ! 

North,  Never.     And  do  you  thank  your  God,  air,  that  you  are 

*  AneodoUl  iketchea,  anecdote*,  and  reminiKeaoee,  which  were  appearinf «  at  thie  timo,  in 
the  New  Monthly  Magazine.    If  not  Tory  true  or  new,  they  were  rery  aanuine. — M. 

t  Campbell  was  on  the  pension-li^t  Tor  thitty-eight  yean,  for  £'2W  a-year.  Dnfald  Stewart, 
the  well-known  author  of^- Elements  of  the  Philosophy  of  the  Human  Mind,*'  had  a  sinecure 
place  created,  or  revired,  for  him,  by  the  Whig  Ministry  in  I60G.  He  was  made  Gaxette 
writer  for  Scotland,  and,  ihe  small  duties  of  the  office  being  executed  by  deputy,  his  own  sole 
and  particular  business  was— to  airn  a  receipt  quarterly  for  about  £1000  a-rear !  In  ISSajnst 
before  the  Goderioh  Ministry  was  broken  up,  they  renewed  the  patent  for  this  siaeoure  !  How^ 
erer,  Stewart  did  not  long  profit  by  the  joh,  aa  he  died  in  the  year  following.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


58 

ftbove  needing  their  assistance.  In  the  present  state  of  literature, 
James,  such  men  as  you  need  nothing  but  diligence  to  be  rich,  at 
least  independent ;  and  in  the  present  state  of  this  country — I  don^t 
mean  to  disguise  ray  sentiments — James,  the  man  who  condescends 
to  pocket  either  pension  or  sinecure,  unless  he  has  earned  them  by 
public  service,  and,  moreover,  can't  live  without  the  money,  that 
man,  be  he  high  or  low,  deserves  to  bear  any  name  but  that  of  a 
Tort;  for  that,  sir,  is  only  a  synonyme  for  Patriot — and  Patriot, 
if  I  have  any  skill  in  such  afiairs,  means  Honest  Man. 

Tickler.  You  are  quite  right,  Christopher.  The  Finance  Com- 
mittee ought  to  be  cut  to  the  quick — if  they  don't,  it  had  been  better 
for  them  never  to  be  born.  They  may  lose  a  few  rotten  members 
by  such  bold  work ;  but  the  Duke  can  afford  all  that  Let  him 
show  them  all,  that  though  Whigs  can  chatter,  it  is  Tories  only  who 
ever  will  reform. 

North,  Yes,  yes,  Timothy ;  it's  no  time  for  mincing  matters  now. 
We  have  a  debt  which  no  man  ought  to  cry  out  against,  because  it 
was  contracted  in  the  noblest  as  well  as  the  most  necessary  of  all 
causes.  The  fact  is,  that  we  are  horribly  crippled  by  our  debt ; 
and,  whatever  direct  means  may  be  ultimately  taken  to  diminish  the 
burden  itself,  (which  must  be  diminished  ere  we  can  hold  our  heads 
heaven-high  again)  the  indirect  means  must  be  taken  forthwith.  I 
mean  that  all  unnecessary  expenditure  must  be  got  rid  of,  because 
that  alone  can  give  real  strength — the  strength  of  vigorous,  solid, 
genera]  faith,  to  the  government  of  the  country ;  and  nothing  can 
we  hope  for  but  from  a  strong  government — a  gigantically  strong 
one — a  real  thorough  Tory  one.     What  says  Timotheus  ? 

Tickler,  Timotheus  says  that  he  knocks  down  Odoherty  for  a  song. 

Odokerty,  {Sings.*) 

Air.—f*  They  may  rail  ai  thU  Ufe!* 

They  may  rail  at  the  city  where  I  was  first  born, 

But  it'i  tiMre  tbejVe  the  whisky,  tnd  butter,  and  pork, 
Ad'  a  nate  little  spot  lor  to  walk  in  eaidi  mora. 

They  ealb  it  Daunf  s  Square,  and  the  city  is  Oork  t 
The  Square  has  two  sides,  why,  ooe  east,  and  ooe  west; 

And  coDTooieot's  the  ragioo  of  frolic  and  spree, 
Where  salmon,  drisheens,  and  beef-steaks  are  eook*d  beat, 

Ochl  FUhambl^t  the  Aiden  ttx  you,  love,  and  me. 

If  you  want  to  behold  the  sublime  and  the  beauteous, 

Put  your  toes  in  your  broeues,  and  see  sweet  Blarney  Lmm^ 
Where  the  parents  and  ekilder  is  comely  and  duteous^ 

And  **  dry  ludgin**  both  rider  and  beast  entertain : 
In  the  cellars  below  dines  the  slashin'  young  fellows, 

What  comes  with  the  butter  from  distant  Tralee ; 
While  the  landlady,  chalkio^  the  score  on  the  bellows, 

Sings,  Cork  is  an  Aidtn  tt>r  you,  love,  and  me. 

This  waK  upoB  C«ik  was  writUa  by  Pr.  Uafiua,  a  astirt  of  that  **  Uaatifvl  dtj."— M 


Digitized  by 


Google 


54  KOOTES  AMBBOfilAKiB. 

Blnckpod  if  another  tweet  pUee  of  that  city, 

Where  pign,  twigs,  aod  wavers,  they  all  grow  together. 
With  its  small  little  tanyards — och,  more  is  tlie  pity — 

To  trip  the  poor  beasts  to  ooDvert  them  tu  leather  1 
Farther  up  to  tlie  east,  is  a  place  great  aud  famous^ 

It  is  called  Mallow  Lane — aotiquaries  agree 
That  it  Ik)1  Js  the  Shibbetn  which  ooce  held  King  SJiamtu : — 

Oh  1  Cork  is  an  Aiden  for  you,  love,  and  me. 

Theti  go  back  to  Daaut*s  Bridge,  though  youll  think  it  it  quare 

That  you  caD*t  see  the  bridge — laix  1  you  De*er  saw  the  like 
Of  tiiat  bridge,  oor  of  one-sided  Buckingham  Sqiiare, 

Nor  the  narrow  Broad  lane,  that  leads  up  to  tlie  I^ke  1 
Where  turning  his  wheel  sits  that  Baint  **  Uoly  Joe,*^ 

And  nnmbreUau  are  made  of  the  best  qimlity, 
And  young  varginU  sing  **  Colleen  da*  crooUnn  a  mo*'-'* 

And  Cork  is  an  Aiden  for  you,  love,  and  roe. 

When  you  gets  to  the  Dyke.  there*s  a  beautiful  protpeet 

Of  a  long  gravel  walk  between  two  rows  of  trees ; 
On  one  side,  with  a  beautiful  southern  aspect, 

Is  Blair's  Castle,  that  trembles  above  m  the  breeze  I 
Far  off  to  the  west  lies  the  hikes  of  KiUamey, 

Which  some  hills  intervening  prevents  you  to  see; 
But  you  smell  the  sweet  wind  from  the  wild  groves  of  Blaniey— ' 

Och  1  Cork  is  the  Aiden  for  you,  love,  and  me  I 

Take  the  road  to  Glanmire,  the  road  to  Blackrock,  or 

The  sweet  Boreemannah,  to  charm  your  eyes, 
If  you  doubt  what  is  Wise,  take  a  dram  of  Tom  Walker, 

And  if  you're  a  Walker,  tots  off  Tommy  Wisef  1 
I  give  ^ou  my  word  that  they're  both  lads  of  spirit; 

But  if  a  "  rav-chaw,**  with  your  gums  don't  agree, 
Beamish,  Crawford,  and  Lane,  brew  some  porter  of  merit, 

Tho'  Pottetn  is  the  nectar  for  you,  love,  and  me. 

Ob,  long  life  to  you,  Cork,  with  your  pepper-box  steeple. 

Your  twirls,  your  whisky,  your  curds,  and  sweet  whey ! 
Your  hill  of  Glanmire,  and  shops  where  the  people 

Qeis  decent  new  clothes  down  hejfont  the  coal  quay. 
Long  life  to  sweet  Fair  Lane,  its  pipers  and  jig% 

£aA  to  sweet  Sunday's  well,  and  the  banks  of  the  Lee, 
likewise  to  your  eoor/-bouse,  where  judges  in  wigs 

Sing,  Cork  is  an  Aidtn  for  you,  love,  and  me  1 

Shepherd.  The  devil  the  like  i'  this  warld  o'  thae  Eerish  sangs  for 
doonricht  unintelligible  nonsense.  Yet  they're  fu'  o'  natur,  and 
natur  o'  a  maist  deevertin*  sort,  too— but,  oh,  man,  Odoherty  !  sing 
us  something  pathetic. 

Odoherty.  Out  with  your  fogle  then,  James.  Here  goes  one,  if 
not  of  the  Old  Bailey,  at  least  one  of  the  new  Bailey  songs.| 

*  CMen  4m§  et^Mkin  m  «•.— Aa  Irish  phraM,  aignifjing  *'  Tk«  fnUj  girl  wstehiaf  ker 
•ow.**    Thtra  IS  a  dtlig hlfal  Irish  Melodj  bsaring  this  SAnis.— M. 

t  Walksr  utd  Wiss  w«r«  rival  disUUsts  of  vhiskf ,  in  C«rlc  Bsamish  k  Cnvfecd  and  Lass 
an  •roiasat  bravsrs.— M. 

t  Thisjparodf  is  also  hj  Magian.  Ths  original,  **rd  be  a  bnttsrfly,"  -was  vrittea  by 
Thomas  Uayasa  Bayloj,  a  song-maksr  of  soma  noU,  and  snthor  of  somo  plavs  and  aovals. 
Ha  diod  in  UaO,  awl  was  popnlar  Uhis  day.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


BUTEBEEXY  BATLET's  SOKO.  56 

1. 

rd  be  a  bottle-fly,  bazaog  and  blue, 

With  a  Cbuny  proboecis,  and  nothing  to  do, 

But  to  dirty  white  dimity  curtains,  and  blow 

The  choicest  of  meats,  when  the  summer  days  glow ! 

Let  the  hater  of  sentiment,  dew-drops,  and  flowers, 

Scorn  the  insect  that  flutters  in  sunoeams  and  bowers ; 

There's  a  pleasure  that  none  but  the  blue-bottle  knows,— 

Tib  to  buu  in  the  ear  of  a  man  in  a  doze  1 

2. 

How  charming  to  haunt  a  sick-chamber  and  rerel 
O'er  the  invalid's  pillow,  like  any  blue-devil ; 
When  pursued,  to  bounce  off  to  the  window  and  then 
From  tne  pane  to  the  counterpane  fly  back  again; 
rd  be  a  bottle-fly,  buxzing  and  blue. 
With  a  Chuny  proboscis  and  nothing  to  do, 
But  to  dirty  white  dimity  curtains  and  blow 
The  choicest  of  meats  when  the  summer  days  glow  I 

Mr.  North,  I  knock  you  down  for  a  stave.     Gome,  old  un.     Caut. 
North.  *'  Oh  yes !"  by  the  same  author. 

OH  Yss! 

1. 
Oh  yes  1  my  soul  the  leaf  resembles. 
Which,  fann'd  by  lightest  zephyrs,  trembles 
As  though  each  fibre  thrilFd  with  life. 
And  shrunk  from  elemental  strife — 
What  though  the  moon  is  full  and  bright. 
And  Philomela  charms  the  night! 
Can  melody  or  moonshine  cheer 
The  sorrow  that  is  rooted  her^f 

3. 

Ob  no  1  the  lip  may  seem  to  smile. 
And  shroud  a  breaking  heart  the  while  1 
The  burning,  throbbing,  aching  brow, 
Hay  seem  as  smooth  as  mine  is  now 
And  pain  intense  may^iMA  the  cheek  1 
Then  ask  me  not  why  still  I  seek 
The  festive  haunts  of  heartless  folly— 
Tis  but  to  feed — my  melancholy  I 

8. 
The  red  rose  hath  no  charms  for  me ; 
Tis  too  much  like  a  peony. 
Give  me  the  lily,  pure  as  bright. 
The  chaste,  the  delicate,  the  white  I 
Fit  type  of  me  I  and  oh  I  ye  powers, 
K  souls  of  poets  dwell  in  flowers. 
When  fate  nas  sealed  mv  body's  doom. 
Oh  I  let  me  in  the  lily  bloom  1 


Digitized  by 


Google 


56  Noons  AJiBBOSIANiB. 

Shepherd,  I  ca'  that  singing.  Nane  o*  your  falsettos — and  damn 
your  shakes — but  clear  as  a  bell. 

North.  No  flattery— my  beloved  James.     I  bate  all  puffing. 

Shepherd.  And  what  think  you,  then,  o'  Maister  Cobrun,  the 
great  London  publisher  1 

Tickler.  Evils  work  their  own  cure—- 'tis  a  general  rule ;  and  in 
the  issue  this  will  prove  no  exception.  The  thing  already  disgusts 
everybody  that  has  sense  enough,  as  old  Tully  says,  to  keep  a  hog 
from  putrefaction.     No  allusion  to  you,  Jemmy. 

Shepherd.  Allude  as  ye  like,  Timothy.  For  me,  Pm  free  to  own 
that  if  1  was  a  bookseller,  and  fand  that  way  was  best  wi*  a  view  to 
the  till,  it  wadna  be  nae  delicate  nonsenses  o'  scrupulosities  that 
wad  gar  me  refrean  frae  turning  the  penny  to  the  outermost  farthing. 
Hang  it,  what  signifies  palaver !  Colbum  began't,  to  be  sure,  but 
there's  ither  folk  following  in  his  tail  now — and  they'll  a'  be  at  the 
same  tricks,  belyve— there's  naething  can  baud  against  the  para- 
graphing. 

North.  I  differ  ftom  you,  James.  Gk)d  kttowa  how  afty  gentle^ 
man  should  even  for  a  moment  endure  the  degradation  of  seeing 
his  name  paraded  in  this  fashion — but  they  will  ere  long — sooner  or 
later  they  must  open  their  eyes,  and  see  what  we  onlookers  have 
seen  from  the  beginning — and  act  accordingly.  Such  men  as 
Ward,*  now — what  sort  of  poison  must  it  be  to  them  not  to  be  able 
to  take  up  a  newspaper,  without  seeing  themselves  stuck  up  in  this 
horrid  style,  to  the  wonder,  the  pity,  must  I  add  the  contempt,  of  the 
rational  public?  Sir,  if  I  were  a  novelist,  I  am  by  bo  means  sure 
that  I  should  have  any  objections  to  deal  with  Mr.  Ck)lbum,  for  I 
hear  the  man's  a  civil  man,  and  an  economical,  and  an  exact,  and  a 
thriving ;  but  one  thing  I  am  sure  of,  and  that  is,  that  I  would  make 
it  my  eine  qud  wm  with  the  gentleman,  that  he  should  leave  my 
book  to  sink  or  swim,  as  might  happen,  without  any  of  his  infernal 
bladder- work. 

Tickler.  What !  You  are  sensitive.  Kit )  Tou  could  not  bear  to 
see  it  said  of  you,  as  it  is  in  all  the  papers  of  Mr.  Lister,  (a  fine  fel- 
low he  is,  notwithstanding,)  that  you  had  just  returned  from  a  tour 
on  the  continent,  where  your  fame  as  the  author  of  Tes,  or  No,  or 
Herbert  Milton,  or  Herbert  Lacy,  or  ViviAtt  Grey,  or  George  God- 
frey, or  whatever  else  it  might  be,  had  procured  you  the  honor  of 
invitations  to  the  tables  of  several  crowned  heads !  1 1  This  would 
stomach  you, — would  it,  ray  dear  % 

North.  Och  1  och !  och  !  Give  me  the  brandy,  Macrabin.  No 
claret  could  wash  that  dowA  ! 

*  Robert  Plainer  Wwd,  who  fifured  itt  pditieal  life  nntil  1883,  irheB  he  retired  oa  the  Iv- 
eratire  linecore  of  Auditor  of  the  Civil  Lirt.  Reenming  hie  pen,  with  which,  ia  —x\j  lifo.  he 
hed  produced  a  etanderd  work  oa  the  Law  of  Natioae,  he  wrote  ^renuiiae,  BeVere,  De  CU&cd, 
and  other  serioaa  aoreli.    He  died  ia  1846.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


MACRABIN*B  SONG.  57 

Shepherd.  Or  atblhis  ye  wad  like  weel  to  light  on  a  small  bit  of 
news,  as  it  were,  extracted  frae  some  country  chronicle  or  gazette, 
certifying,  that  the  innkeeper  at  siccan  a  place,  in  the  immediate  vi- 
cinity of  siccan  a  hall,  or  castle,  or  hili,  or  dunghill,  had  sent  a  cask 
o'  portei*,  and  a  side  o'  beef,  to  Christopher  North,  Esq.,  in  humble 
acknowledgment  of  the  great  addition  to  his  custom,  since  his  last 
splendid  romance  of  De  Gammon,  or  Fitzfiddle  —  had  rendered 
the  neighborhood  the  haunt  of  visitors, — noblemen,  gentlemen,  and 
ladies,  &c.  &c.  &c.,  frae  the  four  winds  o'  Heaven.  Ye  wad  notice 
the  puff  lately  about  Torrhill  meikle  to  that  efiect;  and,  od  !  I 
daursay  ye  wad  hae  liket  weel  to  be  in  honest  Horautio'a  shoon  on 
the  occasion. 

North,  OroToi !  roraroi !  (piv  !  «ro«roi !  Q ! 

Macrabin,  And  then  to  have  your  birth  and  parentage  displayed, 
"  We  understand  that  Christopher  North,  Esq.,  the  celebrated  au- 
thor of  i>e  Bore^  is  a  gentleman  of  independent  fortune,  holding  ex- 
tensive landed  property  in  the  counties  of  Perth,  Kincardine,  Kirk- 
cudbright, Argyll,  and  Mid-Lothian.  The  family  is  ancient,  and  of 
the  first  distinction.  Mr.  North  is  first  cousin  to  his  Grace  the  Duke 
of  Banfi^  and  brother-in-law  to  Sir  Craw  M'Craw  of  that  ilk.  The 
Guildford  family  are  understood  to  be  descended  from  a  collateral 
branch  of  the  same  distinguished  house.  John  North,  Esq.,  the  emi- 
nent Dublin  barrister,*  has  also,  we  hear,  some  pretensions  to  a  con- 
nexion with  the  great  novelist's  family." 

Tickler.  Go  on.  **  It  is  a  truly  agreeable  symptom  of  the  spread 
of  taste,  when  persons  of  this  caste  condescend  to  enlighten  and  en- 
tertain their  contemporaries  with  their  vivid  recollections  of  those 
splendid  circles,  in  which,  from  station  and  accomplishment,  they 
must  ever  have  been  welcome  guests."     Would  that  do  ! 

Macrabiriy  {sings.) 

Run,  ladies,  nm — there's  nothiog  like  be^iimiiig  it- 
Reading  of  crim.  oon.  ii  better  far  than  siDoing  it ; 
Bay,  mothers,  bay,  the  Miss  will  be  a  sober  'on, 
That  meditates  nightly  the  Novelists  of  Golbum. 

Ron,  ladies,  ran — ^'tis  written  by  no  ^rreteer— 
We  encourage  only  aristocratic  merit  here ; 
Nu  Wapping  merriment,  or  Strand  sentimentalify, 
Oiltredged  paper,  dears,  and  real  ink  of  qaality. 

Shepherd.  Whisht.     That's  stoopit. 

North.  Thank  you,  Peter.  Upon  my  word,  I  see  no  reason  why 
Wright  and  Warren  should  have  all  the  poetry  to  themselves.f 

*  Mr.  North,  whoM  profrsM  thnragh  Collej^e  and  at  th«  TrUh  bur  wm  mj  brilliaat,  but  kit 
Parliamentary  caresr,  from  which  maoh  was  expeetad,  wan  a  eooaparativa  failura.  In  1830, 
whan  Sir  Josiah  fiarriugton  was.  dismiased  from  th«  office  of  JndK«  of  the  Irish  Admiralty 
Conn,  North  was  appointed  in  his  ste^  but  died  the  year  ibliowiufri  aged  forty-two.— M. 

t  Warren,  the  black ing-iaaker,  and  Wright,  the  wine-merohant.  (w^hoee  **caiions  port"  and 


Digitized  by 


Google 


58  NOGTBB  AMBBOSIAKiB. 

Odoherty,  A  good  hint,  d — me !  Til  make  Colburn  fork  out  five 
pounds  for  the  suggestion.  There's  so  many  hands  engaged  already 
in  the  prose  department,  that  I  suppose  one  could  have  no  chance 
of  a  berth  there,  Macrabin ;  but  if  you  be  disposed  to  try  your  for- 
tune in  town,  I  think  it  highly  probable  I  could  lend  you  a  lift  to 
something  snug  in  the  verse  line.     Hang  it,  that  very  song  would  do. 

Macrabin.  Faith,  if  songs  would  do,  he  should  have  no  lack  of 
them.  But  I'll  tell  you  what.  Sir  Morgan,  between  you  and  me,  I 
think  I  have  a  better  idea  than  that  to  suggest.  By  jingo,  I  have  it 
— it  will  do,  sir — it  will  do^it  will  do— 

North,  What  will  do,  my  chuck  ? 

Macrabin,  Chalk. 

North.  What  do  you  mean  ? 

Macrabin.  Chalk. 

Tickler.  Confound  him,  what  does  he  mean  by  chalk  f 

Shepherd.  Cawk. 

Macrabin.  Odoherty,  you  are  au  fait  at  such  things — what  would 
it  cost  to  cover  all  the  walls  about  Cockneyland  with  tri-uncials, 
after  this  fashion  ? — {Dips  his  finger  in  wine.) 

Odoherty.  Let  me  see — I'll  engage  to  find  a  trusty  fellow  at  six- 
teen shillings  a  week — 

North.  Not  extravagant.  Upon  my  word  the  plan  might  be 
worth  considering — 

Shepherd.  Worth  considering !  Why,  as  I  hae  a  saul  to  be  savit, 
it's  worth  gowd  in  goupins — here  fill  us  a  bumper  all  round — here's 
Colburn  and  the  crayons  for  ever! — three  times  three — aye,  that's 
your  sorts.     Now  for  a  stave — a  ballad  o'  the  best. — {Sings.) 

Cbftlk  I  chalk  1  'why  the  devil  diona  ye  chalk  t 

Stjind  to  your  laddeiv,  aod  blaze  in  good  order ; 
Up  wi*  your  capitals,  catch,  catch  the  Cockneys  all, 
Frae  the  Hampstead  hills  and  the  Battersea  border. 

Chalk  I  chalk  1  piiffiog-meD, 

Fyke  oae  mair  wi'  the  pen, 
Here's  better  service,  and  cheaper  for  Colbom ; 

Try  the  oew-farrant  hum, 

Gar  gable,  yett,  and  lum, 
Stare  like  a  strumpet,  frae  HowdsIow  to  Holbom. 

Chalk  1  Chalk  I  baith  *'  Granbt"  and  **  NosMAinnr," 

Chalk  them  ahint  ye  and  chalk  them  afore  ye ; 
Chalk  ilka  crossing,  and  canny  bit  comer  by, 
"  Hakrikttk  Wilson,'*  and  **  Club-lavd,  a  stobt." 
Chalk  every  mither's  sod, 
Till  we  read  as  we  run 

variTallad  ehanipagne  were  patriotically  made  from  natire  iloec  and  gootelMrriM)  ware  famona 
foronliiting  the  senriceeof  the  Mutes— for  their  newipaper  advertiMmeots  and  pnffa  The 
dead  walls  ia  aad  about  London  were  chalked  with  gigantic  inscriptions  calling  pabiie 
xttantion  to  their  manufactures. — M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


DCPBOTIBATION.  69 

Wrigbt's  nr  thi  Colonnadk  I — Soho  holds  Eaoi  1 

But,  if  tou  bkn't  a  bear, 

Bdt  Bobby  Ward  s  Db  Verb  I 
Glower,  gaupus,  and  shool  out  the  ready  1 

Macrafnn^  {The  trombone — poker  and  ionge — eings,  Air^  "  D* 
piaeer  me  balza  U  cuor,'^) 

Del  dakar  confounda  lo  corps ; 
E  perche  f     Per  QiDgho  lo  so : 

I  puffanti  del  orribil  bore 
Perche  non  pillorooo  nel  row  f 

Scampo  mi  disgiistera  t 

Boro  sempre  bothera  f 

Gran  Editor  confido  in  te  I 

Deh  I  tu  Liscia  Cobroo  e  Leigh  I 
Cento  ragamuffi  ciakrons  intomo  f 
Piu  fouli  sconio 
Scomar  non  puo : 

No — no — no — 

North.  Non  bisogno  cangiar  ni  voco  ni  faccia  per  esser  angelo  1 

Shepherd,  Come,  lads,  yeVe  sinnin'  against  the  fundamentals. 
Fill  your  glasses,  baith  o'  you.  Polly  botho  dammero  gablebo 
skinki  forduitikinibragh !     Come,  come,  ye  heathen  Greeks! 

Tickler,  There,  now,  translate  your  stave,  Macrabiu,  in  usum 
porci. 

Macrahin^  {bagpipe — sings,) 

Air—WaUrM  of  File* 

Yarrow  and  Ettrick,  now  your  streams  are  flowing^ 

Purer  than  silver  to  sweet  Selkirk  town ; 
On  Altriye  brae  once  more  the  broom  is  blowing, 

Lambkins  are  gay  on  soft  Mount  Benger's  down. 

There  'twas,  at  eve,  in  yonder  byre  reclining, 

Hogg,  ever  dear,  first  fiird  a  cup  for  me ; 
"  Drink,  drink,"  he  cried,  to  me  his  quaigh  consigning, 

Far  in  the  north  they  brew'd  this  barley-bree. 

Hogg's  cherish'd  quaigh,  with  eager  lips  I  drain'd  it^ 

I  would  have  drain'd  it  had  it  been  a  bowl ; 
Minister,  session,  never  had  restrained  it, 

Nor  yet  the  Tweeddale  presbytery's  control. 

( Great  Applause,) 

North,  Adjutant,  that  was  an  extemporaneous  touch  of  Macra- 
bin's.     It  was,  1  assure  you.     You  used  to  improvis — (confound  it^ 

*  In  the  norel,  called  "  Glenanron,"  written  by  Lady  Carolint  Lamb,  (ihortlj  affctr  ktr 
amour  with  Lord  Bjron  had  become  known)  in  which  a  song  commencing 

*' Waten  of  £  lie,  thy  limpid  stream  is  flowing,'* 

was  written  by  har  aobla  lover,  thongh  not  inolnded  in  his  ooUeotsd  ^ 


Digitized  by 


Google 


60  NOCTES  AMBB06IAN.A. 

I'm  getting  muzzy)  admirably  yourself— though  not  quite  a  Theo- 
dore Hook.  Come,  Rough  and  Ready,  be  your  theme  that  bottle 
of  whisky. 

Odoherty^  {chanU^ 


Sing,  jovial  Muse,  bow.  from  the  furrow*d  field. 
By  hands  laborious  tilled,  arose  that  grain, 
By  gods  and  men  adored ;  Tvhose  vital  juioe, 
Fermented  and  sublimed,  in  copper  still 
Ascending  clear,  (sweeter  than  moining  dew 
On  summer  fields,  or  breath  of  odorous  beds 
Of  blushing  roses,  pinks,  or  violets,) 
Gives  life  to  drooping  nature,  wit  to  fools, 
To  cowards  coumjB^e,  and  on  many  a  nose, 
Erst  unadom'd,  bids  mimic  blossoms  grow. 
Whisky,  ycleped,  soul-fascinating  draught  I 
Thee  I  invoke,  whilst  thy  unrivalled  power 
I  sing  in  lofty  verse ;  eoddess  of  stilU  1 
Divine  Malthea !    O  uiioe  aid  bestow, 
As  thou  art  wont,  wben  oft  my  drowsy  pate 
I  scratch  for  verses,  and  my  pen  assault 
With  tooth  poetic.    Bo  mav'st  thou  never  see^ 
Within  thy  temple  more,  the  odious  face 
Of  Ganger,  or  more  odious  far  and  dread, 
Surveyor  or  inspector,  dreaded  more 
Than  midnight  goblin,  whose  insidious  ken, 
Greedy  of  seizures,  darts  from  hole  to  bole^ 
Inquisitive.    But,  lo  I  my  glass  is  out, 
And  with  the  inspiring  potion  halts  my  song. 
•  «  * 

Shepherd,  Noo— that  tanker's  owre,  Mr.  Tickler,  you  too,  sir, 
maun  contribute  to  the  conviviality  o'  the  company.  Either  sing 
or  spoot 

Tickler,  James,  I  will  spoot 

ODB  OV  TBI   DISTAKT   PBOSPBCT  OF  A   GOOD   DXHHXB. 

Ye  distant  dishes,  sideboardi  blest 
With  Halford*s*  peptic  pill- 
Where  grateful  gourmands  still  attest 
Illustrious  Robert's  skill ; 
And  ye  that,  girt  with  Ugumu  roond, 
Or  in  the  purest  pastry  bound, 
On  silvery  surfifUM  lie ; 
Where  pdU — M/mt-— mum  tomaU, 
Frieandeau  framed  with  nicest  art 
Attract  the  glisf  ning  eye. 

Ah  I  richest  scent  I  perfume  belorsd  I 
Blest  odors  breathed  in  vain — 

*  Sir  Keary  Halfbcd,  at  this  p«riod,  tk*  ItsdiBf  phyaioiaa  ia  Loadon.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


FABODY  ON  GSAY's  QBE.  61 

Where  odcc  my  raptnred  palate  rored, 
And  &m  would  rove  again. 
I  feel  the  gales  that  now  asoend, 
A  momeotery  craving  lend — 
As  carling  round  the  yapors  seem 
My  faded  faculties  t*  excite, 
Restore  my  long-paird  appetite. 
And  soothe  me  with  their  steam. 

Say,  Monsieur  IJda,*  for  thou  hast  seen 
Full  many  a  jovial  set 
Discoursing  on  la  bonne  euinne^ 
In  social  union  met — 
Who  foremost  now  prepare  to  pray 
Det  eoteiettea  d  la  cnieoree  f 
SaulS  de  $aum<m — qui  V attend  f 
What  young  Amphitryons  now  Tote 
Nothing  like  pigeone  en  ccmpote. 
Or  taste  the  voCnu-vent  f 

While  some  at  lighter  yiaods  aim. 
And  towards  digestion  lean. 
Pwdarde  aux  tntfes^  or  d  la  crSme, 
Or,  agneau  aux  raeines  ; 
Some  hardier  epicures  disdain 
The  distant  chance  of  doubtful  pain, 
And  quelle  a^eeturtfetm  try ; 
Still  as  they  eat  tney  long  to  cease, 
They  feel  a  pang  as  every  piece 
Passes  their  palate  by. 

But^  lo  I  the  entremeU  are  placed 
To  greet  the  gourmand's  nose. 
Bedecked  wiUi  all  the  pride  of  paste, 
Oonfectire  prowess  shows. 
One  earnestly  devotes  his  praise 
To  beigneie  a  la  Igonnaise, 
Others  survey  with  miz'd  delight 
OelS^e  d'orange — de  marasquin; 
While  some,  with  looks  ecstatic,  scan 
The  eouffli^e  buoyant  height 

Best  fare  is  theirs  by fed. 

Less  pleasing  to  digest; 

The  taste  soon  gone,  and  in  its  stead. 

Oppression  on  uie  chest 

Theirs  joyous  hours,  and  jocund  nights, 

Wif s  playful  sallies,  fancy's  flights, 

•  Dde  WM  a  French  "artut"  who  pabluh«d  a  book  on  Cookerr.    Fo  left  the  ■ervioo  of 
the  Earl  of  Sefton,  (a  ^reat  epieare,  familiarlr  callod  *'  Cod'e  head  and  ihoulden.-*— from  his 
peealiar  makr,)  becauM  hit  lordebip  had  taken  the  liberty  of  addiai 
which  Monsiear  Ude  had  sent  to  table  !    He  '     "    * 
Dnke  of  York,  and  said,  on  hie  death,  **  Mon 


cen  the  liberty  of  addiac  a  little  cayenne  to  eonp 
fiaallT  became  meUre  ^ktUl  and  cuitinier  to  the 
Dien  !  what  can  he  do  without  bm?"— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


63  NOOIES  AHBBOBIiLN.fl. 

And  goodly  dieer  at  «'tr  was  seen — 
The  aged  Mock — the  Champagne  bright^ 
Burguodia'i  besti  and  elarct  lights 
The  Tintage  of  nineteen. 

Alas  I  regardleas  of  their  doom 
Each  rich  ragout  they  take, 
No  aense  have  they  of  pains  to  eome, 
Of  head  or  stomach-ache. 
Yet  see  how  all  around  them  press, 
Th*  attendauts  of  each  night's  exeeas ; 
Fell  Indigestion's  followers  vile : 
Ah  1  show  them  where  the  hateful  crew 
Scoff  calomel  and  pills  of  blue» 
Ah  I  tell  them  they  have  bile. 

These  shall  the  Gont  tormsnttng  niek» 
The  vampire  of  the  toes» 
Night-mare,  Lumbago  in  the  back, 
And  Colic's  painful  throes ; 
Or  languid  Irver  waste  their  youth. 
Or  canes  of  a  double  tooth. 
Its  victim's  nerves  that  nightly  gnaws. 
Vertigo— Apoplexy — Spleen, 
The  feverish  hand — ^the  visage  green. 
The  lengthen'd  lanthom  jaws. 

This,  a  eoruommS,  precioos  prise  1 
Is  tempted  now  to  ti^ ; 
To  restless  nights  a  sacrifice^ 
And  dire  acidity. 

Till  throbs  of  heartburn— -ague's  panga, 
And  Cholera's  fiercely-fixiog  fangs, 
Have  left  him,  liverless,  to  moan 
The  bloated  form — ^the  pimpled  face. 
The  tottering  step— th'  e^iring  traoe 
Of  good  digestion  gone. 

To  each  his  twitehes,  all  are  man, 
Condemned  to  pick  their  booe ; 
The  poor  man  m  another's  den. 
The  rich  man  in  his  own. 
Yet,  why  should  I  of  torments  treat  t 
Since  we  were  made  to  drink  and  eat» 
Why  should  I  prophesy  their  pain  ? 
Stomachs  were  form'd  for  holding  food — 
No  more — ^while  our  digestion's  good, 
ms  folly  to  abstain. 

North,  Most  excellent,  my  dear  Timothy.  After  all,  you  are  the 
man  among  us  fur  a 

Tickler.  I  knew  you  would  like  it  But  the  author  is.  thirty 
years,  at  least,  my  junior. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


PABOOIB8.  bd 

North,  But  the  parody  ia  not  complete  without  the  lin^s  that 

usually 

Tickler,  {spouts.) 

DT   A   LADT. 

UXEB  wmrum  o:r  tbs  back  or  ths  odk,  on  thb  oibcant  paosPEor  op  a 

GOOD   DINNKA.* 

Pleasures  of  catiog  I  oh  I  supremely  blest, 
Aod  healthy  far  beyood  e*en  Halford  s  skill, 
If  thy  strong  stomach  oao  indeed  digest 
All  that  thy  pakte  loires,  "without  a  pill ; 

By  rae  how  eoried — for  to  me 

The  herald  still  of  misery, 
Good  eating  makes  its  influence  known 
By  aches,  and  pains,  and  qualms  alone ; 
I  greet  it  as  the  fiend  to  whom  belong 
Dyspepsia's  vulture  train,  and  nightmare's  prancing  throi^. 
It  tells  of  bright  cbampagoe,  and  suuterne  iced, 
Of  potties,  sauces,  iaufii  and  atpic. 
Of  meats  too  fondly  lored,  too  richly  spiced, 
Of  many  a  cause  to  fear  I  shall  be  sick  I 
For  what,  but  dread  lest  I  should  soon 
Be  sorely  ill,  withholds  my  spoon ; 
When  turtle — soup  of  soups--4s  near ; 
What  but  the  sad-restraimug  fear. 
Lest  heartburn,  tyrant  dire,  usurp  his  reign. 
And  realize  the  pangs  that  friends  and  doctors  feign. 

Shepherd.  That's  gude  poetry,  ony  hoo.  What's  it  and  the  pre- 
oedin'  odd  parroddies  on  ? 

North.  Nay,  James,  that  would  be  painting  hia  name  below  the 
picture  of  the  Blue  Lion.  What!  you  are  not  all  going  to  leave 
me  at  this  early  hourt 

OfMUs.  Doch-an-dorrach  !f 

Shepherd,  {sings!) 

The  day  may  daw. 

The  code  may  craw, 

But  we  will  taste  the  barley-bree  1 

North.    Wbate'er  the  standard  tipple,  whisky's  best 

To  greet  the  coming,  speed  the  going  g^oest — {Bings,) 

Enter  John,  with  the  black  bottle. 

hlacrahin,  {sings.) 

Air— f*  Sweet  ffome* 

Ifong  poets  and  novelists  on  we  may  iogg; 

Be  they  ever  so  clever,  there's  none  luce  our  Hogg 

▲  light  from  the  skies  seems  to  centre  on  him, 

*  This  is  a  parody  oa  Lines  written  in  a  coyj  of  **  The  Pleasnras  of  Memonr.'*— M. 
t  Stirmp-cnp.    The  name  and  the  deed  are  the  same  in  Scotland  and  Irelaad.    Wheu  thj 
fnest's  feet  were  ia  the  stixrnps,  a  partiag-gisss  was  g iTsa  to  him.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


64  N00TB8  AJCBBOSIAN^ 

And  leaye  eyerjthmg  round  it  imperfect  and  dim. 
Hogg— Hogg— great,  great  Hogg  I— 
Tberii's  no  bard  like  Hogg  1 
There's  no  bard  like  Hogg  I 

Without  genius  like  Hogg"*  learning  dazzles  in  rain ; 
Oh  give  us,  we  cry,  our  might  Shepherd  again. 
The  wit  and  the  rhyme  jump  to  life  at  his  call. 
And  the  true  native  sentiment,  better  than  alL 

Hogg — Hogg — sweet  sweet  Hogg  I 

There's  no  man  like  Hogg  I 

There's  do  man  like  Hogg  I  (  Cheat  applaum.) 

North,  Dearly  beloved  Shepherd — your  paw.  How  the  dunces 
wince,  my  lad,  at  the  honor  in  which  the  author  of  the  Queen's 
Wake  is  held  all  over  Scotland,  and,  most  of  all,  in  Maga  the  Mag- 
nificent— the  focus  of  the  many  lights — the  concentrated  essence  of 
the  many  liquids  of  Scotland. 

Shepherd,  Puir  deevils — but  they  do  that — and  oh,  sir !  they're 
bitter,  bitter,  bitterest  o*  a'  at  the  Noctes  Ambrosian®.  Some  o' 
them  hae  even  had  the  impudence  to  tak  the  leeberty  in  my  ain 
house  to 

North,  I  understand  you,  James.  But  by  the  spirit  of  Robert 
Burns,  I  swear 

Shepherd,  Whist.  Nae  swearin*  in  this  hoose.  Was  na*t  verra 
kind,  very  freenly  in  John  Lockfaart  to  dedicate  "the  Life**  to  me 
and  Allan  Kinningham  1* 

North,  Not  a  whit.  What  else  could  he  have  done  ?  The  best 
pledge  a  writer  can  give,  James,  of  the  sincerity  of  his  admiration 
of  dead  genius,  is  his  love  of  the  living — and 

Shepherd,  O  pity  me  the  day — sir — how  the  dunces  do  hate  him 
and  you — and  the  Magazine — and  Edinbro'  and  a*  Scotland — and 
indeed,  some  o*  them,  for  your  three  sakes,  the  wide  warld,  and  a' 
mankind — this  life,  and  the  life  to  come  ! 

North,  Naturam  expellas  furca,  tamen  usque  recurret. 

Shepherd,  I  ken  that  quotation — and  can  translate  it  too^ 

Kick  the  confounded  scoan*reIa  to  Auld  Nick, 

Tis  kick  and  come  again— and  come  again  and  kick  1 

North,  Tea !  they  will  come  sneaking,  James,  up  along  my  avenue, 
to  the  sore  annoyance,  no  doubt,  of  the  flowers,  that  nod  their  heads 
to  such  visitors  as  my  Shepherd,  and  smile  welcome  to  him  with  a 
thousand  eyes 

Shepherd,  Oh !  the  dear  dummies !  may  nae  untimely  blight  ever 
blast  or  blacken  their  brichtness — but  their  dewy  lives  a'  be  blest, 

*  LooUurfa  Lifii  of  Bariu.-M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


YiBiioBa.  65 

whether  short  and  sweet,  as  that  o'  the  puir  bit  annals  that  see  but 
ae  spring  and  ae  simmer,  and  never  ken  winter  ava',  ignorant,  as  is 
easy  to  be  discerned  frae  their  thochtless  faces,  as  they  keep  drying 
their  locks  in  the  sun,  that  there  is  in  natur  sic  things  as  sleet  and 
hail,  and  frost,  and  ice,  and  snaw — naething  but  safb  dews  and  rains, 
that  nmk  a'  things  grow  and  glow,  and  the  earth  murmur  to  hersell, 
like  a  bonnie  sleeping  lassie  dreamin'  o'  her  sweetheart — or  langer 
and  mair  checkerd,  like  that  o'  the  perannals,  that  often  keep 
blumein'  on  to  Christmas,  and  are  gathered  by  some  tender  haun , 
to  furnish  a  winter  posy  for  the  breast  o*  beauty,  or  a  winter  gar- 
land wi'  whilk  to  wreath  her  hair. 

North,  Beautiful,  my  James— quite  beautiful — exquisite— quite 
exquisite. 

Shepherd,  What !  the  impident  creatures  come  to  you  too,  sir, 
wi*  their  albums  and  their  trash  aneath  their  oxters  t 

North,  Too  often.  Be  my  gates  open,  day  and  night,  to  every 
honest  man  ;  and,  to  share  my  hospitality  with  sons  of  genius  from 
afar,  shall  be  my  delight  till  1  die. 

Shepherd,  Dinna  tawk  o*  deein' — dinna  tawk  o'  deein'  even  in  a 
metaphor.  Were  North  dead,  the  sun  micht  as  weel  die  too;  for 
what  in  this  warld  could  he  see  worth  shinin*  on  then  I 

North,  But  'tis  hateful  to  have  one's  Dulce  Domum-— one's 
Sanctum  Sanctorum,  profaned  by  hollow-hearted  intruders,  with  a 
bill  of  lading  in  their  pockets,  who  afterwards  libel  the  very  spider 
on  your  wall,  and  accuse  him  of  murdering  flies,  in  a  way  offensive 
to  the  shade  of  his  great  ancestress — the  first  weaver  of  the  web  of 
his  house — Arachne.  Is  it  not  so,  Bronte  T  Won't  you  henceforth 
bark  at  the  beggars  % 

Bronte,  Bow — wow — wow — whurrwhurrwhurr ! 

Shepherd.  W  hat'n  tosks  !  Savage  and  sagawcioua !  Tear  the 
trampers,  Bronte. 

Bronte,  Whurrurrwhurrur — ^bow — wow — wow  ! 

Shepherd.  The  gang  !  Some  o*  them  wi'  claes  unco  napless,  and 
a  bit  sair-woven  tip-penny  watch  chain,  that  changes  color  every 
time  you  look  at  it ;  and,  safe  us,  siccan  a  hat !  And  ithers  o*  them 
again  wi'  sirtoos,  nae  less,  and  a  fur  foraging  cap,  and  a  bunch  o' 
seals  as  big's  my  nieve — but  a's  no  goold  that  glitters— wi'  their 
coats  o'  arms,  forsooth,  engraven  on  the  chucky-stanes,  and  beasts 
they  pretend  to  be  their  crests — but  wi'  little  siiler  in  their  pouch, 
or  Tin  deceived  sairly — neither  cash,  credit,  nor  character — which, 
if  you  please,  sir,  let  us  drink  in  a  bumper-toast 

North,  The  Three  C's.— Cash,  Credit,  and  Character !  Hurra- 
hurra — hurra ! 

Shepherd.  Weel,  sir, — as  I  was  say  in' — in  they  come — you  ken 
the  door  out  by — ^lootin'  their  heads  aneath  the  lintel,  though  it's 
Vol.  in.— 6 


Digitized  by 


Google 


66  KOCrrBS  AMBBOSIANiS. 

better  than  sax  feet  ony  dny,  just  like  a  gander  gaun  in  at  a  gate 
that  he  coifdna  touch  the  arch  f>\  war  he  lo  try  to  flap  hiinsell  tip  into 
a  flee, — and  there  they  keep  fuinmiin'  in  the  trance  wi'  their  Spanish 
cloaks,  nae  leas  fastened  round  their  thrapples,*  (Heaven  grant  it 
may  never  be  vraur  wi'  them,)  and  it's  a  gude  quarter  o'  an  hour  o' 
precious  time  lost,  afore  they  can  get  their  daft-neer-do-welMoiikin* 
head-gear  to  tak'  hand  o'  )  on  pegs.  Then  they  canna  eat  this,  and 
then  they  canna  eat  that,  wi'  their  tale ;  but  let  them  alane  a  wee^ 
and,  hech  sirs !  but  you  see  they're  desperate  hungry — maist  Toraw- 
clous — four-meal-a-day  chiels,  when  they  get  them,  which  is  plainly 
no  aflen — at  breakfast  eatin'  the  verra  shells  o'  the  fowre  eggs — in 
the  forenoon  chowin'  cheese  and  crusts,  and  drinkin'  porter  gin  you 
were  to  let  them  hae't — at  denner  helpin'  themsells  afore  the  mis- 
tress,  and  never  ofi*erin'  to  put  so  muckle's  a  potawto  on  the  plate  o' 
my  bonny  wee  Jamie,  God  bless  him  ! 

North.  The  mistress — my  dearest  Shepherd — wee  Jamie,  and  a* 
the  lave  o'  them — here's  to  them  all — and  (x<kI  bless  them  indeed-* 
well  do  they  deserve  his  blessing,  James — and  thou  too,  my  friend. 
Come,  James,  sit  nearer  the  old  man. 

Shepherd.  I  canna  get  ony  closer  for  the  crutch.  Oh  !  sir — ^Mr. 
North — but  I  do  like  you  weel,  weel.     Faith,  I'm  maist  greetin'. 

North.  That  Glenlivet  is  very  strong,  James. 

Shepherd,  Hand  your  tongue — it's  no  that.  But  to  return  to 
thae  stravaigers — afber  eatin'  and  drinkin'  you  out  o'  house  and  ha', 
and  8tupif)'in'  ye  wi'  their  Cockney  clishmaclavers  till  you're  like  to 
acunner,  oiT  they  set  in  the  moniin'  early,  without  lettin'  the  ser- 
vant Jass  ken  the  color  o'  their  coin,  wi'  a  shirt  on  their  backs  and 
a  pair  o*  stockings  on  their  legs,  and  a  silk  pocky  handkerchief  in 
their  pouch — no  belangin'  to  them — and  sail  in'  awa'  to  Lunnan  in 
the  steerage  o'  some  dirt-gabbert,  for  they  canna  aflord  smack  or 
steamer.  In  a  month  or  twa  you  see  them  libelling  you  in  fierio- 
dicals,  or  what's  mair  unendurable  yet,  laudin'  you  with  their  flat- 
tery, sickenin'  to  my  stammach,  as  whuppitup  soor-milk,  that  stauua 
in  the  middle  o'  the  table,  and's  ca'd  flummery. 

NortJi.  The  Athenseum  1 

Shepherd.  Just  sae.  Yon  young  Eerisher  had  better  keep  a  calm 
sugh. 

Norths  Yes— -mum's  the  word  for  him,  and  some  of  his  com- 
peers. What  think  you  of  that  story  of  the  dressing-case  1  It  was 
a  bad  sign  of  the  Times.  The  new  Times  are,  1  fear,  not  so  good  as 
the  Old. 

Shepherd.  Ten  guineas  for  a  dressing-case  !f     Wull  ye  tell  me, 

•  7V«/»/»fct— thront— M 
*  AllntioB  to  %  touniactioB  ia  Loadoa,  whtrs  a  traiMmaa  eharf«4  Mr.  EmeiBoa.  a  maa  of 
lafUrtf  vrith  rtriadliag  him  out  of  a  dreaiaf-oaM.     It  taraad  oat  that  iho  aeoaaod  \aA  made 
tke  atttmpv  ^t  irithoQt  buomm.—M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


cir,  what  is  a  dressing-case.  Does  the  whalp  shave  wi'  gowden 
razors t  But  hoo  did  the  bizziness  terminate?  Did  the  auld  lang- 
bearded  Jew  carry  aff  his  article  1 

North.  Ask  at  Bow-street 

Shepherd,  Nae  doubt  he's  weel  acquainted  with  Gray's  JElegy-^ 
and  really  when  I  saw  the  cretnr  out  at  Mount  Benger,  lying  sae 
oonceity  on  a  bit  Icnowe,  I  cudna  help  saying  in  til  niysell^- 

"  Here  resti  his  bead  upon  the  lap  of  earth, 
A  youth  to  fortune  and  to  fame  uuknowo." 

North,  I  much  fear  he  has  no  talents — poor  fellow.  Yet  he 
might  speak  the  truth.  He  ought  not  to  say  what  he  knowf  tQ  be 
false.     You  remember  a  saying  of  Dr.  Johnson's,  James? 

Shepherd.  No  me.  It  passes  the  power  o'  ray  understandin'  to 
comprehend  hoo  sic  a  clever  chiel  as  that  Buckingham  can  thole 
contributors  of  that  class.*  And  wad  hae  thocht,  that  after  a'  his 
travellin'  through  this  wide  and  weary  warld,  he  wad  hae  fund  out 
by  this  time  which  side  his  bread  was  buttered  on — but  that  cawve, 
that  coof  Creeto — the  Cawker — and  Pert  Paddy,  are  cretures  that 
wuU  soon  kill  ony  critical,  for  naelhing  sae  deadly  to  a  young  new 
wark  as  a  feolin'  towards  it  in  the  public  mind  o'  cool  contempt 
He'll  no  be  lang  i'  tindiu'  that  out — let  him  kick  all  such  out  o'  the 
concern — and  under  his  able  owspices,  the  Athenaeum,  I  hope,  will 
flourish. 

North.  I  hope  it  will.  Buckingham's  politics  and  mine  are  wide 
as  the  poles  asunder — but  I  respect  the  independent  spirit  of  the 
man,  the  energy  of  his  character,  and  his  talents. 

Shepherd.  Nane  o'  a'  the  new  weekly  periodicals  will  ever  cut  out 
the  Literary  Gazette. 

North.  Never,  James.  And  simply  for  one  reason^Mr.  Jerdan 
is  a  gentleman,  and  is  assisted  by  none  but  gentlemen. 

Shepherd.  And  havein'  taen  the  start  he'll  keep  it — let  the  lave 
whup  and  spur  as  they  like  after  his  heels.  But  1  like  to  see  a  gude 
race,  so  I  houp  nane  o'  them  '11  be  distanced.f 

North.  1'is  a  pretty  race.  The  Athenaeum  is  well  laid  in  upon  his 
flank — and  there  goes  the  Sphynx  and  Atias|  at  a  spanking  rate*-* 
looking  within  the  ropes  like  winners ;  but  the  rider  of  the  ould 

*  Jamei  Silk  Buekinebam  (whoM  nin*  Tolamei  on  America,  will  be  nmamltrad— for  tbait 
vtif  ht.)  wa*  foondar  of  the  litcrarjr  London  Jouroai  called  **Tha  Athanaam,"  which  la  TM« 
Anmmm  of  Balwer'a  Paul  Ciitford.— M. 

1  William  Jerdan  was  Editor  of  the  Littrary  Gazette,  in  London,  for  five  and  thirtj  ycaia. 
In  bis  banda  it  was  an  or^an  of  much  weight,  bat  latterly  was  deficient  in  spirit.  Jerdan 'a 
leeentlf  pabli^bed  Antobiogrspby.  in  four  volumes,  is  a  remarkably  provokinf  book.  He 
mixedf  on  familiar  ternu.  with  all  ibe  men  of  mark  and  mind  in  Great  Britain,  for  half  a  een- 
tnry,  and  while  be  relates  very  little  about  tbero,  is  perpetually  declarinf  that,  htxl  his  jMipeis 
been  in  order  and  his  u me  not  so  much  pressed,  he  (^mmIU  have  t^ld  a  great  deal :— M. 

X  The  bphjnx  was  one  of  Bu«kingh\m*s  many  speculations—bom  but  to  die.  Thn  Atlaa, 
eommenced  in  IHSS.  flourished  awhile  under  the  editorwhip  of  Robert  Bell,  anthor  of  a  Life  of 
CaBAiBf  bat  is  aonr  a  thixd-ntejonrnai,  with  aowU  cir<«l«ti9a  fMi4  ne  infioeace.^  VL 


Digitized  by 


Google 


68  NOOTBS  AMBBOBIAJSM. 

horse  hafl  him  in  hand,  and  letting  him  loose  within  a  rod  of  the 
judges'  stand,  he  will  win  the  gold  cup  by  two  lengths  at  least — and 
1  take  him  at  even  against  the  6eld  fur  the  Derby. 

Tickler — Odoherty — Macrabin — (una  voce.)  Ha,  ha,  ha,  ha,  ha,  ha, 
ba,  ha,  ha. 

Shepherd.  What  the  deevil  are  you  ne'erdoweels  gufiawin*  at  t 

Macrabin.  The  best  caricature  of  you  both  ever  drawn,  by  Odo- 
herty  !     See  here ! 

Shepherd.  Hae  ye  daured,  Odoherty,  to  draw  a  carricatoor  o' 
us  twa  f  A  wee  thing  wad  gar  me  gie  you  the  braid  o'  your  back 
on  the  Turkey  carpet. 

Odoherty.  I  cry  you  mercy. 

North,  One  other  toast  before  we  part  Here's  to  the  health  and 
happiness  of  the  only  Whig  I  ever  knew  whom  it  was  possible  to 
love — the  amiable,  ingenious,  enlightened,  and  most  eloquent — 
whom  f 

Omnei.  Jeffrey — Jeffrey  —  Jeffrey — Jeffrey —  Jeffrey !  Hurray 
hurra,  hurra! 

Shepherd.  And  no  Sir  Walter  t 

North.  He,  my  dear  Shepherd,  is  at  all  times  in  our  hearts. 

Tickler.  Come,  now,  hands  all  round  the  table — are  the  quaighs 
filled  ?  Ay,  John,  you  may  well  stare  wild  like  a  goshawk.  Here 
goes— (ftn^t.) 

Air,'-^habeL 

Oome,  jolly  boys,  and  never  dieomled, 

One  cop  for  friendBbip's  sake 
Let's  DOW  with  daret  nobly  freighted 

Onr  doch  and  hurras  take  I 

We  up  Leith  Walk,  ere  now,  have  often  etoited, 
With  a'  the  warld  awake- 
Jolly  boys,  jolly  boys,  jolly  boyi, 
Farewell,  dear  host,  be  soon  and  bhthe  our  meeting, 
Jolly  boya,  jolly  boyf,  jolly  boya* 

Shepherd.  Nae  harm,  my  dear  lads,  in  partin'  wi'  a  bit  bonny 
sang  o'  my  ain — ^no  sae  merry,  but  yet  no  melancholy. 

GOOD  NIGHT  AKD  JOT  BB  Wl'  TOU  a\ 

Tlie  nwfat  is  wearing  to  the  wane, 

Anadayligfat glimmeriDg  east awa'; 
Tlie  little  steniies  dance  amain, 

And  the  moon  bobe  aboon  the  ihaw. 

But  though  the  tempest  toat  and  blaw 
Upon  his  l^idest  midoight  horn. 

Good  nifffat  an'  joy  be  wi*  yon  a\ 
Well  maybe  meet  again  the  mom. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


hogo'b  bong.  go 

Of  ire  bae  iraiider^d  fiur  and  wide, 

0*er  Seotia^s  land  of  firth  and  fell ; 
And  moDj  a  bonny  flower  weVe  pu'd. 

And  twined  them  wi'  the  heather  bell. 

WeVe  ranged  the  dingle  and  the  dell, 
The  hamlet  and  the  baron*8  ha\ 

Now  let  us  take  a  kind  fiirewell,^ 
Good  night  and  joy  be  wF  you  a\ 

Ye  hae  been  kind  as  I  was  keen, 

And  foUow'd  where  I  led  the  way, 
Till  ilka  poet's  love  weVe  seen 

Of  this  and  mony  a  former  day. 

If  e*er  I  led  ^our  steps  astray, 
Forgie  your  mmstrel  amee  for  a' ; 

A  tear  £i*s  wi'  his  parting  lay,— 
Good  night  an'  joy  be  wi'  you  a'. 

Omne$ — Gude  nieht  and  joy  be  wi*  us  a*. 

(ExeumL) 

North,  {Demi-Trantatlantic.)  John,  open  the  windows — upon  my 
word,  'tis  a  very  fine  morning.  Get  the  hot-batb  ready,  John,  and 
my  dressing  things — I  must  get  through  the  rest  of  that  infernal 
Emigration  Report  yet  before  breakfast.* 

(Left  yawning,) 

*  Tt  ia  hen  slmtod  (sate,  p.  41)  tkst  North  wm  73  yean  eld,  ea  the  90th  of  Marohj^SM, 
which  would  five  1755  ns  the  year  of  hi*  birth.  Bat,  snhMquently  in  this  rolame  (p.  306),  It 
k  declared  by  North  that  he  was  exHctly  SI.  on  June  10.  I77S,  which  weald  make  him  bom  ia 
1751.    The  latter  date,  as  hb  ewn,  is  to  be  preferred.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


TO  HOGrOQI  AMBaOUASJL 


No.  XXXVIL— OCTOBER,  1828. 

Pkatdy  Plate — Sctnt  the  Ovaf. — Time  Seven  in  the  Evening. 
NoBTH  and  Tioklbr. 

North.  Is  not  Mrs.  Ambrose  an  incomparable  ooffee-brewstressl 

Tickler.  She  is,  indeed.  I  never  got  recf»nciled  to  the  continental 
custom  of  creamless  and  sugarless  coffee,  North.  The  Dairy  Com- 
pany excels  itself  to-nigbt 

North.  Honey  your  bap,  Tickler — I  know  you  prefer  it  in  the 
comb— and  this  has  been  a  glorious  season  both  for  clover  and 
heather. 

Tickler,  Virgin  honey,  indeed — ^but  be  so  good  as  to  give  me  the 
marmalade — after  the  essence  of  flowers,  the  fruit  smacks  of  para- 
dise, and  I  shall  conclude  with  jam. 

North.  To  resume  our  conversation — What!  says  a  great  gaby  in 
England,  or  a  great  rogue  on  the  continent — what,  are  you  then 
going  to  permit  the  Russians  to  eat  up  all  Europe,  leaf  by  leaf,  as  a 
maiden  spinster  eats  a  lettuce  f 

Tickler.  You  remember.  North,  Sir  Bob  Wilson*  wrote  a  book  on 
this  subject  many  years  ago,  which  sadly  terrified  several  old  women 
who  are  holders  of  India  stock.  Sir  Robert — he  wae  a  knight  in 
those  days — Sir  Robert  drew  maps,  and  charts,  and  plans,  and  cam- 
paigned as  actively  on  paper  as  ever  he  retreated  at  Banoz.  He 
marched  the  troops  of  Russia  from  post  to  pillar  over  the  bellies  of 
the  Austrians,  Prussians,  Poles,  Saxons,  Turks,  Jews,  and  Atheists, 
all  sprawling  on  the  flat  of  their  backs.  Slap  in  like  manner  he 
dashed  them  down  from  Trebizond  to  the  northern  bank  of  the  Eu- 
phrates, ninety  milee. 

North.  To  Arzroun,  one  hundred. 

Tickler.  To  Sinope,  two  hundred  and  eeventy. 

North.  To  Scutari,  opposite  Constantinople,  a  little  more  than^9# 
hundred. 

Tickler.  Across  the  Isthmus  of  Asis  Minor  to  Alexandretta  (  a  sea- 

*  This  Sir  Bob«rt  WiUon  vu  a  6«ii«ral  ia  tli«  Britiik  MiriM,  aad  pabliskcd  an  aecoaac  of 
th«  expedition,  nndor  Aboreromby.  in  Efypt,  in  wbich  bo  flnt  brooght  tbo  ohar^  against 
Napoloon  of  kaTinf  poisoned  tbo  prisonen  at  Jaffa.  In  1815  he  assisted  in  the  esoapeofLa- 
ralette  at  Paris.  In  1881  he  u  as  dismissed  the  serriee  for  aotinf  witM  the  people  at  <4,neen 
Caroline's  funeral,  but  was  lobsoquently  restored,  and  died  in  1840.  after  haTing  been  seren 
yean  OoTemor  of  Oibraltar.    He  labored  under  a  Rnssia-phobia,  and  Tented  it  in  priat.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


BU88IA  AND  INDIA.  71 

port  town  opposite  Cyprus,  in  the  Mediterranean,  and  only  <t«ly 
miles  from  Aleppo,)  little  more  than  ybtir  hundred. 

Narik.  And  to  the  Red  Sea  from  thence,  not  more  than  Jlv§  k%m- 
dred. 

Tickler.  Yes — these  were  his  very  words.  Now,  all  this  is  done 
BO  easily,  so  gently,  so  quietly,  so  gingerly,  that  people  would  think 
they  were  reading  a  French  road-book,  with  all  its  mysterious  cal- 
culations of  postes  and  postes  et  demi.  Then,  continued,  Sir  Bob, 
they  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  get  down  the  Red  Sea. 

North.  Perfectly  regardless  of  the  fate  of  King  Pharaoh  of  Egypt 

Tidekr.  llirough  the  Straits  of  Babelmandeb,  (which,  by  the  way, 
they  used  to  call  Babelmande/  in  my  schoolboy  days,)  and  then, 
with  iiiir  weather  tu  their  tail,  they  would  have  nothing  to  do  but  to 
take  Sir  John  Malcolm,*  or  whoever  else  should  reign  in  his  stead, 
by  the  back  of  the  neck,  and  drown  him  in  any  convenient  part  of « 
the  harbor  of  Bombay. 

North.  Or  else  there  was  Persia  open  to  the  march — get  through 
Daughistaun,  and  Shirvaun,  Tchiraun,  and  many  more  places  ending 
in  aun,  and  floating  gaily  adown  the  Persian  Gulf,  sail  from  Ormus, 
and  so  make  themselves  masters  of  India. 

Tickler.  It  is  amusing  to  remember  the  mouthing  of  our  Modem 
Munchausen.  All  the  time  several  people,  otherwise  respectable, 
were  8<j  shallow-pated  as  to  believe  that  this  cock-and-bull  history 
had  as  much  sense  and  truth  in  it  as  the  Adventures  of  Aladdin 
and  the  Princess  Badroulboudour.  And  it  remains  a  standing  proof 
of  the  imbecility  of  human  intellect,  that  it  was  seriously  answered 
in  the  Quarterly  Review. 

North.  For  our  parts,  when  we  read  it,  we  said  that  we  had  a 
higher  opinion  of  Bob's  reading  in  consequence,  as  it  was  perfectly 
evident  he  must  have  been  frcbh  from  the  perusal  of  that  most  ad- 
mirable of  all  romances — that  most  philosophical  of  all  works  of 
science — that  most  delightful  of  compilations  of  Ethics,  viz.  the  Ro- 
mance of  Grnrgantua,  as  written  by  Master  Alcofribos. 

Tickler,  You  are  more  at  home.  North,  in  Rabelais  than  I  am-— 
his  prodigality  overwhelms  my  senses  and  my  reason. 

North.  For — Vertue-Boouf,  as  Rabelais  would  say  himself—- the 
whole  idea — many  of  the  very  phrases  and  locutions — almost  the 
places — the  entire  plan,  spirit,  and  regulation  of  the  campaign — are 
pillaged,   plundered,  conveyed,   and  abducted   from  a  celebrated 

*  Sir  Joka  M&Icolm  vu  a  8e«tehiiMtB,  who  vtnt  to  IndU  m  a  Mdtt,  uid  roM  higk  ia 
mir.Ury  and  diplomatic  rank,  iaeluding  that  of  Plonipotentinrr  to  Pereia  and  Goreraor  ol 
Bombaf.  R«t«niikf  to  Eaglaad.  ho  oatorod  Parliament,  bal  died  loon  after,  in  lti33.  Hii 
Hiatorr  of  Fcnia,  and  eomo  books  on  India,  an  ecaadara  works.— Bis  biother,  Sir  Pultonejr 
Malcolm,  was  the  Admiral  in  Command  durinjr  the  war  with  Amorioa  in  1814-15,  and  wai 
itationod  from  tho  oailr  part  of  1S16  to  Jnlf ,  ltU7.  at  Bt.  Hotoaa,  whan  ho  OoMiUatod  the  To- 
ward of  NapoUom.'-M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


72  KOCTEB  AMfiROSIAN.fi. 

chapter  thereof, — that,  I  mean,  in  which  the  three  Captains  of  his 
host  came  before  King  Picrochele,  and  promise  that  prince  that  they 
will  malce  him,  if  he  follows  their  advice,  the  mo&t  honored  and 
renowned  monarch  that  ever  made  his  appearance  on  the  fiice  of  the 
world,  since  the  days  of  Alexander  the  Macedonian. 

Tickler.  Brush  up  my  memory  of  the  wittiest  work  of  the  wittiest 
of  all  Frenchmen. 

North,  Swashbuckler,  Dustaille,  and  Smelltrash,  came  before 
their  king,  and  told  him  how  they  were  to  overcome  the  world — to 
make  him,  among  other  things.  King  of  Trebizond — to  massacre  all 
the  Mahometans,  unless  they  were  baptized — to  rebuild  Solomon's 
temple — to  sweep  through  Syria,  Palestine,  Lydia,  and  many  other 
places  most  abominably  misspelt  in  the  usual  editions  of  Sir  Thomas 
Urquhart,  as  they  probably  will  be  in  Maga — and  returning  thence, 
to  make  but  one  mouthful  of  Europe — England,  Ireland,  and  Scot- 
land being  gulped  up  in  a  single  parenthesis.  Picrochele  having 
believed  all  this,  went  to  war,  which  ended  in  his  being  a  beggar- 
man,  awaiting  for  the  coming  of  the  Cocklicranes,  to  be  restored  to 
his  kingdom. 

Tickler,  I  see  the  application  ;  though  that  the  Emperor  Nicho- 
las has  any  chance  of  coming  to  this  bumble  estate,  I  am  far  from 
believing ;  and  sorry  should  I  be  if  there  were  any  chance  of  seeing 
his  diademed  head  covered  with  a  beggar's  clout. 

North.  I  should  be  most  sorry,  too.  Tickler,  because  he  is  a  good 
Anti-Catholic  of  the  Greek  persuasion,  who  would  vote,  if  he  had  a 
vote,  for  the  restoration  of  the  penal  laws  in  Ireland  to-morrow. 
Secondly,  because  he  is  the  representative  of  that  house  which 
crushed  the  Jacobin  power,  and  broke  up  the  continental  system. 
Thirdly,  because  he  is  a  good  free-mason,  having  been  made  in  our 
presence  in  the  Canongate  Kilwinning. 

Tickler,  Reasons  suflkient  for  being  sorry  were  he  ever  to  be  so 
far  reduced  as  to  look  for  the  advent  of  the  Cocklicranes  to  be  rein- 
stated on  the  throne  of  all  the  Russias ;  yet  I  am  not  in  the  least 
degree  grieved  that  he  is  now,  in  his  proper  person,  exhibiting  the 
enormous  absurdity  of  the  Bob  Wilsonian  school  of  Munchausen  Ism. 

North,  Why  I,  who  flatter  myself  1  know  a  thing  or  two,  said 
from  the  very  first,  that  Russia,  unsubsidized,  unassisted  by  foreign 
armies,  unsupported  by  foreign  cabinets,  could  not  move  forty  thou- 
sand real  soldiers — 1  put  C^sacks,  6ec,  admirable  as  they  are  at 
home,  or  in  pursuit  of  a  defeated  enemy,  out  of  the  question — ^I  say, 
that  Russia,  of  herself  could  not  move  forty  thousand  men  forty 
miles  beyond  her  own  frontier,  without  being  cursedly  hampered. 

Tickler,  And  the  more  uncivilized  the  enemy,  North,  the  greater 
the  difficulties.  In  rich  countries,  where  there  are  wealthy  cities, — 
&t  burghers  to  be  robbed, — greasy  monasteries  to  be  rifled, — golden 


Digitized  by 


Google 


THE  OZAB  NICHOLAS.  78 

chests  and  golden  plains  to  be  broken  open  or  cut  down — there  the 
honest  system  of  perquisitions,  the  vivere  rapto  plan  might  succeed. 
Will  that  do  in  Turkey  1 

North,  Alas !  no.  The  invading  army  must  there  bring  all  its 
provisions,  all  the  demands  of  its  commissariat,  ail  its  ordnance  and 
battering  train  with  it ;  and  these  things  are  to  be  paid  for  in  one 
way  or  another — either  way  being  equally  inconvenient  to  his  impe- 
rial majesty. 

Tickler,  "Here  goes  the  Emperor  Nicholas,"  shouted  all  the 
gentlemen  of  the  press  all  over  Europe, — "one  day  at  Moscow,  the 
next  in  Constantinople.  What  is  the  Duke  of  Wellington  doing? 
Oh  !  unhappy  ministry,  you  are  ruining  the  country,  by  permitting 
the  conquest." 

North,  How  intensely.  Tickler,  the  Duke  of  Wellington  roust 
have  laughed  !  Somewhat  as  Hannibal  did  when  he  heard  the  old 
aQuffling  sophist,— one  of  a  class  of  men,  who,  by  the  way,  very 
much  resembled  in  information  and  honesty,  our  journalists  at  pre- 
sent,— lecturing  him — him  of  CannsB— on  the  art  of  war.  How 
actively  he  must  have  rubbed  his  ear,  as  he  heard  blinkard  afber 
blinkard  talk  of  walking  to  Constantinople,  as  the  Cockneys  on 
Easter  Sunday  walk  to  Greenwich  £iir. 

Tickler,  Wait,  gentlemen,  he  might  have  said,  all's  not  over  yet 
Wait  till  Russia  is  aggrandized  by  the  taking  of  the  city  of  the 
Cessars. 

North,  Well  did  he  know  that  this  campaign  of  Russia,  on  her 
own  resources,  was  the  most  impolitic  act  she  could  commit ;  and 
he  had  no  objection  that  she  should  divert  herself,  by  flinging  away, 
in  an  idle  and  uncalled-for  contest,  the  stamina  of  ten  years'  politi' 
cal  existence. 

Tickler,  The  poor  paltry  politicians — the  creatures  whose  names 
have  become  a  byword  of  scorn — the  sitting  part  of  the  Canning! tes 
— had,  by  that  most  bungling  of  all  pieces  of  diplomacy,  the  treaty 
of  the  6th  of  July,  made  us  auxiliaries — art  and  part — in  this  Rus- 
sian invasion ;  and  the  cunning  men  about  the  Czar  must  have 
chuckled  at  their  triumph  over  them,  the  idiots  xar*  sgo^xv. 

North,  But  "A  change  came  o'er  the  spirit  of  our  dream,"  my 
boy.  These  gentlemen  tbund  the  laugh  considerably  altered.  They 
were  left  to  fight  the  battle  by  themselves — with  what  success,  all 
the  world  knows. 

Tickler,  Proo ! 

North,  Now,  my  good  little  masters  and  misses,  did  the  Duke  do 
right  or  wrong  ?  Was  it  better  for  him  to  let  the  Russians  cut 
their  own  throats,  or  to  mount  his  grand  Waterloo  horse,  and  play 
their  game  ? 

TidcUr,  The  boy  who  has  been  booby  for  five  years  in  each 


Digitized  by 


Google 


74  N00TB8  AMBBOBIAKiS. 

successive  class  of  the  High  School  could  answer  that  question 
aright. 

North,  But  the  Greeks,  Tickler,  the  Greeks ! 

Tickler.  Fiddle-di^ee. 

North,  These  fellows  must  be  settled  as  the  interests  of  Europe 
dictate.  They  or  their  petty  affairs  cannot  be  of  any  consequence, 
now  that  the  great  European  interests  are  at  stake.  And  I  think 
that,  since  they  got  into  the  hands  of  Messrs.  Joe  Hume,  Orlando, 
Luriottis,  Capo  d'Istria,  Trelawney,  Steam-Engine  Galloway,  Apol- 
lo, and  Mercurius,  and  the  rest,  the  world  in  general  care  as  little 
about  them,  as  they  do  about  the  last  cargo  of  Christian  and  Liberal 
patriots  shipped  for  the  colonies  of  Australasia. 

Tickler.  But  then,  says  some  interminable  querist,  holding  you  by 
the  button,  there's  the  French  expedition  to  the  Morea.  Chateau- 
briand writes  an  immensity  about  it  in  the  Journal  des  Debats.  Are 
not  you  horribly  afeard  of  that?     Come,  W)nfess. 

North.  Afeard  I  not  we.  Why,  it  is  ours  when  we  want  it  Why 
it  should  intend  us  harm,  we  cannot  see ;  and  even  if  it  contem- 
plated any,  have  not  we,  the  rulers  of  the  seas,  the  absolute  disposal 
of  all  persons  and  things  in  the  Peloponnesus!  Had  we  not  in 
more  noisy  days  the  French  garrison  in  Malta,  and  the  French 
army  in  ^ypt,  as  completely  in  our  hands  as  if  they  were  in  the 
hulks? 

Tickler.  Come — come — what  do  you  say  about  the  Pacha  of 
Egypt? 

North.  An  excellent  fellow,  lately  converted  to  Christianity,  and 
enrolled  as  a  ruling  elder  of  the  Relief  Kirk  of  Kirkintullocb,  by 
the  persuasion  of  the  Reverend  Mr.  Dobbie,  and  Miss  Eliziibeth 
Shanks.  He  will  not  annoy  us.  Perhaps  in  course  of  time  he  may 
yield  to  good  advice,  and  surrender  his  country  to  our  safe  keeping, 
with  the  same  good  humor  that  the  Great  Mogul  surrendered  hi». 

Tickler.  India? 

North.  Dinna  fash  your  thoomb  about  India.  It  is  a  long  march 
from  the  Caspian  to  the  passes  of  Altock — and  there  is  many  a 
stumbling-block  in  the  way.  And,  moreover,  listen  to  one  word — 
if  there  was  as  fine  an  army  as  Napoleon  Bonaparte  marched  against 
Russia  herself,  at  the  passes  of  Altock,  we  could  prove  it  to  you, 
that  without  firing  a  gun,  we  (the  English,  we  mean,  not  ourselves, 
C.  N.)  have  it  in  our  power  to  make  it  "  a*  wede  away*'  almosc  as 
rapidly  as  the  army  of  King  Sennacherib  of  Assyria ;  and  that  by 
the  time  it  came  within  sight  of  the  foredoomed  ground  of  Panniput, 
it  would  not  be  able  to  put  50,000  nien,  and  they  jaded  and  worn 
out,  to  cope  against  quadruple  the  number  of  as  fine  a  set  of  fellows 
as  ever  pulled  a  trigger. 

Tickler.  Barring  always  the  grenadiers  of  England. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


THS  FOBTUGUVSE.  75 

North.  No,  laddie — for  it  must  be  to  a  very  young  person  we  are 
addressing  this  argument — if  we  lose  India  it  will  not  be  by  an 
invasion  from  Russia.  When  the  time  comes  we  shall  give  the 
world  an  essay  on  that  subject,  which  will  illuminate  it  to  the  centre 
of  its  soul. 

Tickler,  North,  you  are  in  great  force  to-night !  And  now  having 
thus  most  triumphantly  proved,  that  we  have  no  need  to  go  to  war 
with  Russia — that  she  is  injuring  herself  much  more  than  we  could 
injure  her — that  no  English  interest,  direct  or  indirect,  is  at  stake-^ 
you  have  not  degraded  yourself  by  answering  the  nonsense  talked 
about  "Rule  Britannia"  being  in  any  danger  from  sailors  bred  in 
icy  seas,  or  the  lakes  which  go  by  the  names  of  the  Black  Sea  and 
the  Mediterranean — that  if  she  want  to  fight  we  are  ready  for  it — 
suppose  you  turn  your  nose  away  from  the  North,  and,  like  a  cock 
on  a  steeple,  point  your  neb  to  the  South. 

North,  What  is  Don  Miguel  or  Don  Pedro  to  usi  For  the 
kingdom  of  Portugal  we  feel  great  respect,  because  we  have  been 
for  more  than  fifty  years  swallowing  the  wine,  the  name  of  which  is 
identified  with  its  own.  A  liquid  to  be  honored — to  be  loved.  Let 
Theodore  Hook's  admirable  Sayings  and  Doings  say  and  do  what 
they  please — that  is  the  sound,  constitutional,  episcopal,  presbyterian, 
protestant,  godfearing  liquor,  in  which  I  toss  off  sempiternal  bum- 
pers to  Church  and  King. 

Tickler.  1  saw  a  prime  pipe  whaumled  into  my  cellar  this  blessed 
day.     Dine  with  me  to-morrow,  Kit. 

North.  I  will.  Days,  or  rather  nights  of  our  youth  !  Shall  we 
dishonor  your  memory  by  a  word  derogatory  to  that  solid-fluid — A 
compound  epithet,  \%hich,  let  mathematicians  sneer  as  they  please, 
is,  iu  this  case,  no  bull.  Revering  Portugal,  therefore,  on  this 
ground,  and  having  a  hankering  recollection  of  Vimeira,  and  other 
doings  there,  we  shall  not  be  suspected  of  saying  a  word  in  its  dis- 
paragement. But  really  we  cannot  see  why  we  are  bound  to  cram 
a  constitution  down  the  throats  of  the  Portuguese  against  their  will. 

Tickler.  Unless  the  old  lady  were  in  a  strait  waistcoat,  and  could 
not  feed  herself  with  her  own  hands. 

North.  We  cannot  see  that  we  were  justified  in  sending  five  or 
six  thousaiid  soldiers  there,  to  compel  people  to  be  free  at  the  point 
of  the  bayonet. 

Tickler.  By  the  soft  persuasion  of  military  law. 

North.  No  wonder  that  such  proceedings — that  the  diplomatic 
pedantry  of  prating  about  a  casus  foederus — and  the  schoolboy 
pedantry  of  quotinjr  puffing  verses  about  iEolus — should  have  very 
much  irritated  the  Portuguese  against  us.  As  for  the  Constitution, 
it  is  very  evident  that  they  did  not  understand  any  thing  about  it 


Digitized  by 


Google 


76  N00T£8   AMBBOSIAN^ 

Tickler,  And  a«  for  the  Coiistilutionalists,  a  more  mean,  cowardly, 
ignorant  crew  never  usurped  the  functions  of  government. 

North,  The  flight  from  the  Vouga  has  indeed  shown  these  fellows 
up  in  their  true  colors.  There  have  been  few  things  in  history, 
Tickler,  more  exquisitely  comical  than  the  expedition  of  the  Mar- 
quis Palmella  and  his  associates.  Forth  went  these  valorous  cham- 
pions from  London,  with  the  favorable  gales  of  the  applause  of  the 
CJourier  breathed  hot  upon  their  backs,  to  make  their  appearance, 
and  to  conquer. 

Tickler,  The  Veni,  Vidi,  Vici,  of  Julius  Csesar,  was  to  have  been 
revived  in  their  case.     Sed  guales  rediere? 

North,  Such  a  running  never  was  heard  of.  The  very  sound  of 
the  advance  of  Don  Miguel's  army  made  the  fellows  take  to  their 
beets  as  rapidly  as  the  frogs  and  mice,  in  the  Batrachomyomachia, 
scudded  into  their  holes  and  marshes  on  the  arrival  of  the  crabs. 
Taipa  led  the  way — 

"  ITptfTOf  TLfpftXeu^  "Boturio^  epxe  ^o6ou>        * 

Tickler,  But  allow  me  to  add,  that  Peneleus  was  a  good  fighter, 
and  did  not  stir  till  he  was  wounded  in  the  shoulder,  vsgotfu  ^Tjctfir- 
li4vog  aiei — until  Jupiter,  son  of  Saturn,  had  shaken  his  fringed  ./Egis, 
and  darted  his  terror-striking  bolt  among  the  Greeks.  Taipa  ran 
before  he  saw  the  glistening  of  a  gun,  and  the  disorder  shortly  be- 
came infectious. 

North.  Palmella  ran. 

Tickler,  Saldanha  ran. 

North.  Villa  Flor  ran. 

Tickler,  They  all  ran. 

North.  There  was  not  a  man  among  them  on  that  day  whom 
you  would  not  have  backed  with  the  long  odds  against  Grates 
himself 

Tickler.  And  these  are  the  good  people  with  whom  the  men  of 
England — the  old  Invicti — the  men  who  never  run — it  is  for  these 
cravens  that  our  sympathies  are  sought  to  be  enlisted  !  We  wish 
they  were  delivered  to  the  tender  mercies  of  Friar  Jean  des  En- 
toumeures,  that  he  might  inflict  summary  punishment  upon  them 
with  the  sacred  baton  of  the  cross. 

North,  People  in  this  country,  Mr.  Tickler,  who  are  horribly 
gulled  by  the  nonsense  which  is  written  in  newspapers,  are  some- 
times in  the  habit  of  calling  Don  Miguel  an  usurper,  and  that  too  is 
made  a  ground  why  we  should  go  to  war  with  him. 

Tickler,  How  he  is  a  usurper  I  cannot  see. 

North.  Don  Pedro,  we  shall  be  told  at  once,  is  his  elder  brother, 
and,  therefore,  by  all  the  rights  of  primogeniture,  should  have  suc- 
oeeded  his  &ther.     Supposing  this  all  to  be  as  correct  as  possible, 


Digitized  by 


Google 


DON  MIGUEL.  77 

we  cannot  for  the  lives  of  us  see  how  we  are  appointed  conservatora 
general  of  the  due  succession  of  kingdoms  all  over  the  world.  Just 
see  to  what  that  would  lead  us  at  the  present  moment. 

Tickler,  Why,  we  should  be  very  busy  at  war  with  Russia,  be- 
cause Constantine  has  been  set  aside  for  Nicholas. 

North,  We  should  be  active  in  ousting  Bernadotte,  and  restoring 
Colonel  Gustafson. 

Tickler,  King  Ferdinand's  claim  to  his  throne  was  not  the  most 
correct  in  the  world  at  the  beginning,  yet  no  one  that  we  ever  heard 
of  recommended  us  to  attack  the  great  man-milliner  to  the  Virgin 
Mary  on  this  ground. 

North.  What  nonsense — what  idiocy  it  is,  then,  to  expect  that 
we  are  to  send  out  fleets  and  armies,  and  to  puzzle  our  consols, 
simply  that  we  may  change  the  name  of  Miguel  for  that  of  Pedro  ! 

Tickler.  Of  Don  Miguel  I  know  nothing — but,  as  he  is  grossly 
abused  in  the  Times,  it  is  highly  probable  that  he  is  a  gentleman. 

North,  As  to  the  validity  of  his  election,  let  the  Portuguese  law- 
yers look  to  it  His  partisans,  in  our  opinion,  make  out  a  good  case 
for  him.  The  fundamental  laws  of  Portugal  require  that  the  King 
niust  be  a  Portuguese,  and  Don  Pedro  has  declared  himself  a  Bra- 
zilian. His  right,  therefore,  they  contend,  has  ceased,  and,  exactly 
as  happened  at  our  own  Revolution,  the  next  in  succession  is  put  in 
his  place.  The  Cortes  of  Lamego,  which  pronounced  this  decision, 
coniprehended  almost  all  the  great  names  in  the  kingdom,  and 
resembled,  in  many  particulars,  the  Convention  Parliament,  which 
put  the  crown  upon  the  head  of  William. 

Tickler,  The  church  is  for  Don  Miguel. 

North,  Almost  all  the  landholders. 

Tickler,  Nine-tenths  of  the  mercantile  property. 

North,  Besides,  who  is  there  that  can  bear  the  idea  of  an  old 
European  kingdom  being  turned  into  a  colony  to  a  mushroom 
American  empire  ? 

Tickler.  Disgusting. 

North,  Be  this  law  and  thia  reasoning  right  or  wrong,  our  inter- 
fering to  arrange  it  would  not  be  a  whit  more  wise  or  rational  than 
Don  Quixote's  campaign  against  the  windmills.  It  is  the  interest 
of  the  people  of  Portugal  to  keep  on  good  terms  with  us ;  and  that 
being  the  case,  it  is  of  no  consequence  to  us  what  king  reigns  over 
them.* 

Tickler,  Not  the  value  of  a  Queen  Anne*s  farthing,  which  now 
sells,  I  believe,  as  low  as  thirty  shillings  of  the  coinage  of  George 
the  Fourth. 

*  North**  txpaetaUoni  wer«  disappointed.  In  Jan«,  18S3,  Don  Mirnol  deelarod  kinuelt 
King  of  Portugal.  After  a  prolonged  contest  with  hie  brother,  Don  Adro  was  compeUed  to 
renonnoo  hia  eTaioM  in  May,  1834.  Four  month*  after,  Donna  Maria  was  deolared  of  age,  and 
eonuneneed  her  aetnal  reign.    She  dui  lin  1853.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


78  KO0TE8   AMBB08IAJ^(^. 

North,  We  have  thus  concluded  our  foreign  affairs,  and  Lord 
Aberdeen  may,  if  he  pleases,  lay  doun  our  magazine,  so  far  as  his 
own  official  duties  are  concerned.  Delighted  and  instructed  with  the 
information  he  has  thus  gleaned,  he  may  return  to  the  business  of 
his  department,  a  wiser  and  a  better  man. 

Tickler.  But  his  Lordship's  well-known  literary  taste  must  of 
course  compel  him  to  proceed. 

North.  True ;  ill  indeed  would  he  deserve  the  title  of  Athenian 
Aberdeen,  if  he  did  not  every  month  peruse,  with  unsatiated  appe- 
tite, esQiy  line  of  Mnga,  begmning  with  the  title  over  the  benignant 
countenance  of  Geordie  Buchanan,  and  never  checking  for  a  mo- 
ment, until  he  had  fairly  mastered  the  catalogues  of  the  Born,  the 
Married,  or  the  Dead. 

Tickler,  But  what  say  you  of  the  colonies  ? 

North.  Nothing.  Canada  is  peevish,  but  we  shall  soon  settle  all 
that.  A  most  honored  contributor,  and  a  most  excellent  Tory — 
our  friend  Gait — reigns  there  in  plenitude  of  power ;  and  the  de- 
partment of  woods  and  forests  is  under  the  control  of  a  Lord 
Warden,  (The  Teecer)  whose  learned  lucubrations  have  figured 
in  the  magazine.  Under  such  control,  Sir  George  Murray  may 
rest  contented.  The  remainder  of  the  empire  is  as  well  as  can  be 
expected.* 

Tickler.  At  home.  Corn — Currency — Catholics. 

North.  Good  Lord,  deliver  us  from  the  three !  Plague — Pesti- 
lence, and  Famine — Battle — Murder,  and  sudden  Death,  are  nothing 
to  them  !  But,  as  we  must  speak  about  them,  we  our  weary  lips 
unclose. 

Tickler.  Let  us  take  them  alternately,  Kit. 

North.  Well,  Tim. 

Tickler.  Corn.  Every  prospect  of  a  fine  harvest,  in  spite  of  St. 
Swithin.  This  will  be  one  grand  element  of  popularity  for  the 
Duke's  Ministry.     John  Bull  cannot  grumble  when  his  belly  is  full. 

North.  CuRRBNOT.  Mr.  Peel's  bill,  we  suppose,  will  be  in 
operation  in  Aprii.f  Great  is  the  lamentation  thereupon — and  we 
suppose  just — even  in  the  imperishable  pages  of  our  own  immortal 
work.  But  if  the  world  will  keep  the  secret,  we  mention  to  them 
in  private,  that  we  never  cared  anything  about  the  currency,  further 
than  to  get  as  much  of  it  as  possible  into  our  breeches  pockets. 

Tickler.  "Good  gracious,"  Mr.  North — a  country  banker  will  ex- 
claim, lifting  his  spectacles  to  an  angle  of  G3  degrees  upon  the  top 

*  Lord  AlMdMn  wu  Fnnifii,  and  8ir  O«org«  Mamy  Colonial  SoeroUrr,  in  the  Welling- 
toaMinistfy.  Gait,  the  noveliet,  had  but  a  Teiy  ehort  **reifa"  in  Cauada.  **Tl»e  Taegtor*' 
vaa  the  late  Dr.  Danlop,  of  Canada— M. 

\  Peel's  Cnnrenojr  Bill,  by  which  all  bank  note*  of  leee  ralne  than  £$  verr  aboliahed,  and. 
Id  a  oertain  extent,  a  aheck  given  to  **  wild  eat"  banks.  Nearlr  twenty  yeaxs  luier,  he  ooui- 
pleulf  proTtnted  th«  •sfablishmont  of  banks  without  oapital.~M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


OUKRENCT  AJSm  OATHOUOd.  79 

of  his  car — "  surely  ye're  no  serious.  Do  ye  forget  a'  the  cleyer 
articles  ye  had  aboot  the  ruin  the  daft  measures  o'  the  feelosofers 
wad  brin^  upon  the  hail  kintra  ?  Are  na  ye  fou,  when  ye  talk  sae 
guseiike?" 

North.  Most  encomiastic  and  eminent  of  bankers,  we  reply,  we 
are  no  that  fou — though,  perhaps,  we  may  hae  a  drappie  in  our  ee. 
Admirable  articles  they  were — them  to  which  you  allude — sound  in 
argument — true  in  feeling— clear  in  position — powerful  in  facts. 

I'ickler,  And  so  the  whole  country  felt.  They  were  articles 
which  made  the  soul  of  Ebony  glad  within  his  bosom,  for  they  did 
mucn — 

**  I  verily  belisye,  promots  hit  lale.* 

And  more  such  you  must  have. 

North,  It  would  have  saved  much  loss,  and  prevented  much  mis- 
chief, had  a  few  such  thinkers  as  their  writer  had  the  management 
of  our  financial  and  commercial  affairs.  But,  afber  all,  I  am  an  old 
man — a  man  long  cured  of  listening  to  the  predictions  of  politicians; 
and,  croyez  en  un  vieux  practicien,  as  old  Frederick  of  Prussia  used 
to  say  of  war,  1  am  not  now-a-days  frightened  by  prophecies  of  our 
destruction  from  causes,  the  prevention  of  which  we  have  in  our 
own  power.  If  the  feelosofers  have  mismanaged  aflairs,  are  they 
not  kicked  out  ?  Thank  God,  they  are — to  one  and  all  the  Duke 
has  said,  in  the  language  of  Juvenal — aut  aceipe  calcem/  Has  not 
Huskisson,  the  Complete  Letter  Writer,  been  ejected  in  the  manner 
so  graphically  depicted  in  the  print-shops,  by  the  vigorous  applica- 
tion of  the  toe  of  the  Duke's  jackboot  to  his  oscoccygiif  Does  not 
Free  Trade  stink  in  the  nostrils  of  the  people  ? 

Tickler.  Like  a  dead  foumart. 

NorUi.  So  it  will  be  with  the  Currency.  If  we  find  that  a  gold 
currency,  to  the  exclusion  of  paper,  works  mischief,  depend  upon 
it,  after  a  little  of  that  mischief — and  less  now  than  ever — because 
the  country  looks  upon  the  sayings  and  doings  with  suspicion — 
thanks  principally  to  my  magazine — instead  of  hailing  them  with 
an  a  priori  sh«;ut  of  approbation— depend  upon  it,  I  say,  afler  the 
first  symptom  of  its  being  calculated  to  do  damage  appears,  we 
shall  come  back  to  the  course  in  which  we  arrived  at  a  pitch  of  pros- 
perity unprecedented  in  the  history  of  nations.  No,  no,  my  dear 
sir — we  will  never  be  ruined  by  that  Until  it  pleases  God  to  strike 
us  all  mad  at  one  stroke  of  the  Dogstar,  we  shall  never  be  so 
divested  of  common  instinct  as  to  destroy  ourselves,  for  no  reason 
in  the  world  but  to  gratify  some  cloudy  theorists,  or  to  gain  a 
character  for  consistency  in  folly.  I  venture  to  lay  a  wager  of 
guineas  to  shillings,  that  by  this  time  twelve  months,  we  shall  not 
recollect  whether  the  bill  passed  or  not 

Tickler.  Catholics.    No  Popery  !    Tliis  is  our  cry  now — ^then- 


Digitized  by 


Google 


80  NOOTEB  AMBBOBIANjB. 

and  forever.  Our  reasons  for  it  we  have  so  often  discussed,  mj  dear 
North,  that  we  are  not  called  upon  to  do  it  now.  1  think,  indeed  I 
am  sure,  that  the  events  of  the  last  six  months  have  kindled  that 
spirit  among  us  to  a  warmer  degree  than  it  has  ever  been  since  the 
Revolution  of  1688.     Don't  you  think  so,  sir  1 

North,  Yes.     The  Papists  have  (airly  drawn  the  sword. 

Tickler,  The  return  of  O'Connell,  and  the  rejection  of  Mr.  Vesey 
Fitzgerald,  a  man  who  was  fool  enough  to  vote  for  them  all  his  life, 
prove  that  no  services  to  their  infamous  cause  can  atone  for  Pro- 
testantism.* 

NorUi.  It  has  proved,  also,  that  those  who  prated  about  ^the 
Popish  influence  returning  only  a  dozen  members  to  Parliament, 
were  mere  idiots.  It  has  proved,  that  if  we  grant  emancipation,  we 
introduce  at  least  one  hundred  members  into  Uie  House  of  Commons, 
bound  by  all  that  they  deem  sacred  to  overthrow  the  constitution 
of  the  country. 

Tickler,  Alarm  prevails  now,  where  nothing  but  sneers  were  heard 
before ;  and,  by  a  just  retribution,  the  Irish  pro-Popery  members, 
(we  thank  thee,  eloquent  and  able,  staunch  and  true  Standard,  for 
t^4iching  us  that  word,)  are  the  first  to  suffer.  Your  Vesey  Fitz- 
geralds,  Sir  John  Newports,  Villiers  Stuarts,  Spring  Rices,f  6cc  <Sca, 
will  be  the  first  to  go— the  first  to  afford  a  practical  illustration  of 
the  justice  and  moderation  of  the  triumphant  Papists. 

North,  I  rejoice,  Mr.  Tickler,  to  see  the  country  firmly  possessed 
of  this  truth.  I  hail  the  accession  to  our  side  of  the  Marquis  of 
Chandos,  and  the  young  nobility,  gentry,  and  scholars,  of  almost  all 
the  rising  youth  of  the  country,  whether  distinguished  for  birth,  or 
talent,  or  influence ;  and  we  cheer  forward  the  establishment  of  the 
Brunswick  Clubs,  with  the  loudest  compass  of  our  lungs.|  All  that 
the  Protestants  of  the  empire  have  to  do,  is  to  speak,  and  their 

VOICl  IS  DBCIBIVK. 

Tickler,  Yes,  my  trusty  feer,  their  voice  is  decisive,  even  if  the 
minister  seem  dubious  or  hostile.     How  much  more  so  when  the , 
minister  is  their  staunch  and  uncompromising  friend ;  in  one  word, 
when  he  is  the  Duke  of  Wellington  ] 

North,  Another  cup  of  coffee.    As  to  any  doubts  about  him,  give 

*  Mr.  VeM7  Fitsf«nld,  a  Protottsnt  who  had  bMa  member  f<a  Clara  for  many  raar^  was 
mada  a  Cabiaet  miaistar,  andar  Wallinrton,  ia  Jnna.  IS^i.  Pmantinf  himMlf  for  re-alao- 
tion,  he  was  oppoeed  by  Mr.  O^Coanetr  the  Calbolio  leader,  and.  after  a  lerere  conteet  of  a 
week.  OTo'inefl  wai  elected.  This  led  to  the  Catholio  Kmaneipation  in  IS^id—Welliiirtoa 
and  Peel  tbinking  that  ooncession  was  preferable  to  oiTil  war.  Mr.  Sheilas  aoeonnt  of  tho 
Clare  Election  is  remarkably  graphic. — M. 

t  Sir  Joha  Newpwt  became  Comptroller  cf  the  Exeheqnei;  and  retired  on  apensioB  of  £10U0 
a  year,  to  make  way  for  Mr.  Spring  Rice,  (then  created  Lord  Monteagle)  who  wanted  a  perma> 
■eat  office.    Mr.  Villiers-Stnart  was  made  Lord  Stuart  de  Decies  in  1839  —M. 

X  This  Marqnie  of  Chandoe  (who  succeeded  to  the  Dukedom  of  Buckingham  ie  1699)  was  aa 
ultra-Tory,  and  has  coacluded  his  oareer  by  spending  his  immense  inheritance,  which  went  to 
the  hammer  to  pay  hie  debts.  The  Brunswiok  Clnfaa  arooe  in  1838,  in  oppositioa  to  the  Catho* 
lie  AseociatioB,  but  spoedily  fell  throagh.~BI« 


Digitized  by 


Google 


ANTIOIPATIONS.  81 

them  to  the  winds !  The  Dawsons — I  utter  the  name  with  pain,  for 
many  reasons — may  seem  to  slink  from  their  principles  amid  a 
general  hooting  of  contempt,  and  some  sighs  of  sorrow.  But  who 
compares  the  Duke  of  Wellington  with  them  1 

Tickler.  Nobody  who  is  permitted  by  his  friends  to  walk  without 
an  attendant  through  city  or  suburb.  Yet  the  Protestants  of  the 
empire  must  not  desert  him.  If  they  be  silent,  it  will  be  hard  for 
him  to  resist  the  ceaseless  clamors  of  his  enemies. 

North,  That  is — not  a  sad — but  a  serious — solemn  truth.  Let 
them  be  steady — let  them  come  forward  to  show  that  they  are  in 
earnest  in  resisting  the  encroachments  of  Popery,  and 

Our  tmst  in  him 
la  firm  as  Ailsa's  rock. 

Tickler,  Is  there  anything  else  to  say  ? 

North,  We  hope  not — for  we  are  not  going  to  say  any  more. 
We  are  old,  now,  consider,  worthy  world,  and  our  hand  does  not 
dash  off  sheet  after  sheet  with  that  impetuous  rapidity  that  made  in 
former  times  the  devils  to  stare.     We  must  now  take  our  ease — 

The  youDg  should  labor,  but  the  old  should  rest 

Tickler,  Your  life,  sir,  has  been  busy  and  various. 

North,  Ay,  heaven  knows,  our  toils  indeed  have  been  immense ; 
and,  until  we  came  to  the  management  of  this  Magazine,  our  plea- 
sures but  few.  But  we  are  anticipating.  Soon — very  soon,  per- 
haps, may  the  aged  body  of  old  Kit  be  consigned  to  the  tomb 

Tickler,  Hush — hear  Mr.  Gurney  sobbing  in  his  closet ! 

North,  When  his  Memoirs  will  see  the  light  at  last 

Tickler,  O  let  them  not,  I  pray,  be  a  posthumous  work  ! 

North,  His  maligners  then  will  see  who  it  is  they  have  slandered 
— what  wild  work  they  have  wrought  with  a  heart  too  sensitive,  too 
tremblingly  alive  to  the  cruel  censures  of  a  censorious  world 

Tickler,  Gurney — blow  your  nose — and  no  blubbering. 

North,  Springs  of  action  will  be  then  developed,  which  will 
puzzle  the  politician — deeds  developed,  which  will,  in  all  proba- 
bility, render  it  necessary  that  the  history  of  fifty  of  the  most 
important  years  of  the  world  should  be  re-written.  When  it  i« 
published,  alike  indifferent  to  him  will  be  the  voice  of  praise  or  of 
censure  

Tickler,  Gurney ! 

North,  But  the  readers  of  Blackwood's  Magazine  will,  we  trust, 
drop  a  tear  of  good-humored  and  grateful  recollection  over  the  page 
that  tells  the  chequered  fortunes  of  their  guide,  philosopher,  and 
friend. 

Vol.  III.— 7 


Digitized  by 


Google 


83  NO0TB8  AMBBOSIAN^ 

Tickler,  Why,  Gurney's  grief  is  infectious.  Forgive  the  pensiTO 
tear. 

North,  'Tis  an  idle  thought,  Tickler,  but  methinks  that  my  bones 
would  not  rest  in  a  city  churchyard.  Let  them  be  deposited  beneath 
the  greensward  of  the  burial-place  of  ray  native  parish,  by  the  side 
of  hor 

Tickler,  My  dear  North,  you  know  I  have  undertaken  the  inter- 
ment   

North,  Remember,  that  on  turning  off  from  the  turnpike  road 
into  the  lane,  with  its  old  hawthorn  hedges 

Tickler.  Fear  not,  sir,  fear  nut — the  coffin  shall  there  be  taken 
out  of  the  hearse,  and  borne  aloft  on  the  shoulders  of  six  chosen 
villagers 

North,  You  yourself  walking,  as  chief  mourner,  at  my  head 

Tickler,  The  Shepherd  at  the  right  shoulder 

North,  All  right — all  right — suppose  we  sing  a  song. 

Tickler,  Do—for  Godsake ! 

North,  With  all  my  heart.  But  first  a  toast — in  brandy — for 
after  Turkish  coffee,  Bourdeaux  is  best.     Here  is 

The  144th  Number  of  Black wood^s  Maoazins  ! 
12  times  12! 

Hip,  hip,  hurra !  Hip,  hip,  hurra ! 

Hip,  hip,  hurra!  Hip,  hip,  hurra! 

Hip,  hip,  hurra !  Hip,  hip,  hurra ! 

Hip,  hip,  hurra!  Hip,  hip,  hurra! 

Hip,  hip,  hurra !  Hip,  hip,  hurra! 

Hip,  hip,  hurra!  Hip, hip, hurra, hurra, hur- 

ra, hurra,  6ic,  ad  libitwn. 
And  now  one  cheer  more  for  the  honor  of  Lord  Eldon  ! 

Hip,  hip,  hurra — hurra,  hurra !  — 
Hark  ! — how  the  echoes  ring  ! 
Tickler,  Every  room  in  the  house  has  caught  it. 
North,  And  another,  for  as  true  a  Tory,  in  other  words,  as  good 
ft  man,  as  Scotland  ever  saw — his  noble  father  not  excepted — Lord 
Melville.     Hip,  hip,  hurra,  hurra  ! 

2\ckler,  Some  basely  forgot,  or  rather  deserted  him,  during  his 
short  retirement.  But  Wk  knew  better.  Out  or  ih,  we  honor  the 
Man. 

North,  That's  the  way  to  do  things.  The  144th  No.  !  This  is 
the  Magazine  which  idiots  and  knaves  endeavored  to  put  down— 
and  which  blockheads  and  fools  predicted,  over  and  over  again« 
would  not  live  out  the  month. 

Tickler,  Many  a  precious  blockhead  has  kicked  the  bucket,  hopped 
the  twig,  Kit,  since  the  first  prating  of  such  predictions. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


jnniBEB  ONB  Hi7in>sED  ASD  fostt-foubI  83 

North,  And  it  is  pleasant  to  the  conscience  of  an  old  man  to 
know  that  the  death  of  many  of  them  must  be  laid  directly  at  the 
door  of  No.  17  Prince's-street.*  The  braying  of  asses  is  unques- 
tionably much  diminished — and  that  justifies  the  belief  that  the  asses 
themselves  are  far  fewer  in  number,  though  I  do  not  wish  the  breed 
to  be  wholly  extinct. 

Tickler,  They  are  fewer  in  number — for  while  he  breathes  the 
vital  air,  your  ass  will  bray. 

North,  {sings.) 

Let  118  laugh  at  the  assea,  -while  here  at  our  glaasea. 

The  toast  tliat  -weVe  dritikiog  can  give  them  the  lie.^ 
Is  Virtue  and  Merit,  Wit,  Learuiog,  aud  Spirit^ 

Is  Honor,  and  Genius,  and  Fancy  to  die  I 
Even  talent  like  Campbell's,  >vhen  caught  in  Whig  trammels, 

'Mid  Missea  and  Musters,  content  is  to  shelve ; 
While  we  are  as  clever  and  joyous  as  ever, 

Though  our  numbers,  up-mounting,  have  reach'd  Twelve  timet  Twelva 

Alas  for  the  London  1 — three  times  it  was  undone ; 

We  hope  it  may  prosper  in  essay  the  fourth ; 
Hie  Monthly,  so  smartish — the  Westminster,  tartish — 

Are  these  to  be  fear'd  by  the  Pride  of  the  North  t 
Hie  Gentleman's  prosing — Frank  Jeflfrey  is  dozing; 

His  tomahawk's  gone,  both  the  hatchet  and  helve ; 
While,  sharp  as  a  razor,  the  sword  vfe  display,  sir, 

Was  never  more  keen  than  in  this  Twelve  times  Twelve. 

like  the  hues  of  the  morning,  its  pa^es  adorning. 

May  its  Genius  continue  long,  lasting,  and  bright; 
True  Tories  delighting,  false  Liberals  spiting, 

And  cutting  aovfu  Whigs  to  the  left  and  the  right 
Our  rivals  all  rotten,  sunk,  dead,  and  forgotten. 

In  obscurity's  slough,  must  go  burrow  and  delve, 
While  still  in  full  glorv,  a  wit  and  a  Tory, 

Our  Maga  will  number  Twxlvb  huitdbsd  times  TwbltbI 

*  1u  Ediabugh,  ▼ken  BUokirood^s  Msffssina  was  tksa  pabliskod— II. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


91  KOCTKB   AKBBOSXA^Jf. 


ANTESCRIPT,'^ 

The  world  has  given  us  to  understand^  hy  the  most  unequivocal 

expression  of  her  lt^clmg«^  that  fehe  has  been  ion^hig  for  what^  in  het 
passion,  she  rather  ungrammatically'  caljis  a  Noctes.  We  beg  to 
assure  the  worthy  world,  wilh  the  utmost  since rity,  that  few  things 
could  give  us  more  pain,  than  to  di^^appoint  htT  in  any  of  hernaturai, 
reasonable^  and  honorable  hopes  of  happiness,  in  as  far  as  they  are 
and  ought  to  be  dependent  on  this  Magazine.  The  Morld,  however 
— she  must  pardon  us  for  publicly  teUij>g  her  so, — is  constitutionally 
impatient.  She  ought  to  regulate  her  feelings— to  bring  them  under 
a  system  of  severer  discipline — like  Us^  to  tame  the  ardor  of  youth 
by  ibe  wisdom  of  age.  She  is,  in  fact,  our  senior;  and  yet  to  judge 
of  the  two,  by  their  sense,  their  sobriety,  and  esspecially,  by  their 
Bubmi^sive  and  cheerful  resignation  to  the  decrees  of  Providencei 
you  might  well  suppose  Us  the  older  by  some  thousand  years. 
*^Why  is  there  not  a  Noctes?  Why  ts  there  not  a  Noctes?  Why 
is  there  not  a  Noctes?''  the  w\>rld  keep  exdatming,  with  disapfjoint- 
ment  akin  to  displeasure,  during  every  month  that  h  Miflered  to  die 
away  in  gloom  unl Hummed  by  one  of  those  ]>ivine  Dialogues, 
"  W*hy  is  there  not  a  Noelesl'^  llc^aven  and  Eanh,  why  is  there 
not  always  a  Moonl  How  can  the  world  be  so  ii>>piou8  as  lo  find 
fault  uiih  the  laws  that  regulate  the  motions  of  the  Heavenly  Bodies? 
llie  Moon,  though  to  our  eyes  seeming  to  be  occasionally  "  hid  in 
her  vacant  interlunar  cave/'  notwilhsianding  keeps  sailing  along  all 
the  while  in  her  orbit.  Bo  We,  too,  though  sometinies  invisible  to 
the  world,  still  keep  shining — and  why  will  not  the  world  wait  till, 
obedient  1*"^  the  Astral  rul^s  and  regulations,  a  Noctes  Anibrosiana 
return!^^  and  she  ts  made  again  to  feel  the  exquisite  beauty  of  those 
linos  of  Homer  and  Pope— 

*  Ai  wliea  tbe  mooa.  refulgent  Injnp  of  nijjbt^ 
O'er  Ut-'flV^u's  clear  azure  thvih  ber  uicred  light  T 

We  must  not,  however,  be  too  severe  on  the  world,  w*hose  chiaf 

faulty  after  all^  is  too  impassioned  admiration  of  Us.  Let  her  know, 
then,  thai  for  some  mtinths  past,  the  non-appearance  of  a  Noctes  hat 
been  owing  to  a  cause  over  which  we  had  littla  or  no  control — tht 

*  A  Jaulkla  nuiB'bir  «f  Blickwu-sj  vm  fiiibUjhtfl  in  Oetoloicrt  l^QA,  k^A  fash  ti^t^tan  htA  % 


Digitized  by 


Google 


oubney's  thrsb  LUNi^no  Nocrss.  85 

illness  of  Mr.  Gurney.  Early  in  May  that  gentleman  was  seized  with 
a  brain-fever.  Something  odd  we  certainly  did  see  in  bis  manner 
on  May-day,  when  celebrating  our  annual  feast  of  curds  and  cream  at 
the  Hunter's  Tryst.  But  we  continued  to  attribute  the  manifest 
flurry  and  fluster  of  his  demeanor  to  an  unfortunate  domestic  griev- 
ance, with  most  of  the  fundamental  features  of  which  the  world,  alas  I 
18  but  too  well  acquainted ;  and  he  still  occupied  his  closet  during 
our  social  evenings  in  Picardy,  still  took  and  extended  his  notes. 
On  setting  up  his  MS.  for  June,  the  compositors — the  choice  of  the 
establishment — were  first  perplexed — then  confounded — and  finally 
dismayed.  However,  they  got  up  the  article — and  in  the  regular 
course  of  things,  it  fell  under  the  eye  of  the  best  of  foremen,  Mr. 
M^Corkindale.  He  stood  aghast — and  then  carried  the  incompre- 
hensible composition  to  head-quarters — to  J.  B.  himself,*  who  at  once 
saw  how  it  was,  and  immediately  sent  Mr.  Gurney  (who  had  sud- 
denly made  his  appearance  in  the  office,  very  much  in  the  dress  of 
Hamlet,  as  described  by  Ophelia)  to  Dr.  Warburton,  then,  as  the 
world  knows,  providentially  on  a  visit  to  Scotland.  There  was  no 
longer  any  possibility  of  not  seeing,  or  of  concealing  the  truth.  Mr. 
Gurney  had  for  months  been  as  mad  as  a  March  hare ;  and  were  we 
to  publish  the  Tliree  Noctes  which  he  extended^  during  the  incum- 
bency of  his  disease,  the  world  would  think  the  Cbaldce  itself  wishy- 
washy — such  was  the  super-human  impiety,  and  extra-mundane  wick- 
edness of  the  ravings,  which,  thank  God,  never  issued  from  any  of 
our  lips;  but,  aided  no  doubt  by  a  few  hints  from  us— were  the  in- 
spiration of  his  Demon.  One  truly  singular  and  most  interesting 
psychological  curiosity  we  must  mention  in  discriminating  Mr.  Gur- 
ney's  case  from  that  of  any  other  lunatic  of  our  acquaintance. 
During  his  lunacy,  he  absolutely  invented  a  new  system  of  Short 
Hand  !  a  system  which — now  that  he  is  not  only  perfectly  restored 
to  his  former  senses,  but  inspired  by  new  ones — gives  him  incredible 
facilities — so  that  never  more  will  a  single  syllable  of  our  wit  and 
wisdom  be  suflfered  to  elude  his  pen  and  make  its  escape.  The  Three 
Noctes — both  as  they  exist  in  the  new  stenography — and  in  a  state 
of  extension — have  been  safely  deposited  in  the  British  Museum. 
Two  others,  which  may  be  thus  fairly  considered  as  thefirst  of  a  new 
series — and  which  were  taken  and  extended  by  Mr.  Gurney  when  he 
would  appear  to  have  been  nearly  recovered  fiom  the  severest  vis- 
itation by  which  a  human  creature  can  be  afflicted — we  now  present 
to  the  world  as  specimens  of  a  style  of  composition,  which  we  cannot 
(or  a  moment  doubt  will  be  even  more  popular  than  those  hitherto 
inimitable  productions  that  have  been  the  chief  causes  of  elevating 
the  character  of  this  Magazine  to  the  highest  pinnacle  of  earthly 
fame. — C.  N. 

*  JamMBailaatjBa.— M- 


Digitized  by 


Google 


9i  KOCTES   AMBBOBIAITA 


No,  xxxvni*-oaroBER,  1829. 

SCENE — Large  Dining*RoQm — Time  itneertain—^o^^tn  dita$mr&i 
Htting  upright  in  his  eatyc^iair^  with  armg  a  ki/3i&Q  ott  Ai«  cruich^ 

Enitr  the  &h£pk&rd,  and  Mil.  AiiB&og«. 

Shepherd,  Lord  safo  w-^l  only  look  nt  hirn  sitting  asleep.  Wbatan 
nfiicc!  Diniift  l^ave  the  parlor,  Mr.  Awmroae,  iot  it  would  be 
fc4irsc)rne  to  bfl  ainne  wT  the  Vi^iion* 

Amhrtist.  The  heot  of  the  fire  has  overcome  the  dear  old  pentle- 
man^biit  he  will  soon  awake  j  and  nmy  I  make  so  bold,  Mr.  Ha^, 
as  to  rcfjiies^t  thiit  you  do  not  di^ilurb  — 

Ski-phtrd,  WhatT  Wad  ye  be  f^r  my  takin'  aff  my  sboon,  and 
gliding  ower  the  Turkey  carpet  on  my  stocking  soles,  J  ike  a  pard  or 
panther  on  the  Lybian  sundsl 

Ambrose.  {Suaviler  in  modo.)  I  beg  pardon,  sir,  but  you  have  got 
on  your  top-boots  this  evening. 

Shepherd.  Eh  I  sae  1  hae.  And  tryin'  to  TOg  them  aff,  tae  and 
heel,  aneath  the  fool  o*  a  chair,  wad  be  sure  to  waukin  him  wi'  ana 
O*  thae  froons  o'  his,  aneiich  t<i  diint  the  deeviL 

Amhrone.  I  never  saw  Mr,  North  frown,  Mr.  Ho^g,  since  we  came 
to  Picurdy.     J  hope,  sir,  you  think  him  in  his  usual  health  ? 

Shepherd,  That*a  a  gude  ane,  Awmrose.  You  think  him  near  his 
latter  end,  'cause  he's  gi'en  up  that  hellish  frtrnn  that  formerly  ujsed 
sac  often  to  mnke  his  face  frichtsomel  Ye  ne^er  saw  him  froon  sin' 
ye  cAme  to  Picardy  1  Look,  there — only  look  at  the  creatur 's 
face — 

A  darkoesff  onm««  A^rota  it  Uk«  a  squall 

BlftCklitlLDg  tb,«  ML 

AmhroMs,  I  fear  he  suffera  some  inward  qualm,  sir.  His  stomach, 
1  fear,  air,  is  out  of  order. 

Shepherd,  His  stamach  is  ne'er  out  o'  order.  It^s  an  ingino  that 
aye  works  sweetly.  But  what  think  you,  Mr.  Awmros€i>  o'  a 
quawm  o*  conscience  f 

Ambroie,  Mr,  North  never,  in  all  his  life,  1  am  sure,  bo  much  m 
Injured  a  fly.     Oh  !  dear  me  1  he  must  be  iQ  v^y  great  pain, 

Shtpherd.  So  froouM  he  ainoc,  when  ta  angry  pftrU 
H«  »mol«  the  alidiag  Polloek  on  tlie  *y9%* 


Digitized  by 


Google 


L 


Kir  iroBTH.  •  87 

Ambrose,  Tou  allnde,  sir,  to  that  day  at  the  curling  on  Dudding- 
ston  Loch.  But  you  must  allow,  Mr.  Hogg,  that  the  brute  of  a 
carter  deserved  the  crutch.  It  was  pretly  to  see  the  old  gentleman 
knock  him  down.  The  crack  on  the  ice  made  by  the  carter's  skull 
was  like  a  star,  sir. 

Shepherd.  The  clud*s  blawn  afT— and  noo  his  countenance  is  pale 
and  pensive,  and  no  without  a  kind  o'  reverend  beauty,  no  very  con- 
sistent wi'  his  waukin'  character.  But  ihe  faces  o'  the  most  ferocious 
are  a*  placid  in  sleep  and  in  death.  That  is  an  impressive  fizziologi- 
cal  and  syko]<»gical  fack. 

Ambrose,  How  can  you  utter  the  word  death  in  relation  to  him, 
Mr.  Hogg  1     Were  he  dead,  the  whole  world  might  shut  up  shop. 

Shephnd,  Na,  na.  Ye  micht,  but  no  the  warld.  There  never 
leev*d  a  man  the  warld  miss'd,  ony  mair  than  a  great,  green,  spread- 
ing simmer  tree  misses  a  leaf  that  fa's  doon  on  the  moss  aneath  its 
shadow, 

Ambrose,  Were  ye  looking  round  for  something,  sir  1 

Shepherd,  Ay  ;  pjie  me  that  cork  aff  yon  table— I'll  burn't  on  the 
fire,  and  then  blacken  his  face  wP  coom. 

Ambrose,  {Placing  himself  in  an  imposing  aititvde  bettoeen  North 
amd  the  Sbbphbkd.)  Then  it  must  be  through  my  body,  sir.  Mr. 
Hogg,  1  am  always  proud  and  happy  to  see  you  in  my  house ;  but 
the  mere  idea  of  such  an  outrage — such  sacrilege — horrifies  me ; 
the  roof  would  fall  down — the  whole  land 

Shepherd,  Tuts,  man,  I'm  only  jokin'.  Oh !  but  he  wad  mak  a 
fine  pictur!  I  wish  John  Watson  Gordon  were  but  here  to  pent  his 
fiice  in  iles.<^  What  a  mass  o'  forehead  !  an  inch  atween  every 
wrinkle,  noo  scarcely  visible  in  the  cawm  o'  sleep !  Frae  eebree  to 
croon  o'  the  head  a  lofty  mountain  o'  snaw — a  verra  Benledi — wi' 
rich  mineral  ore  aneath  the  surface,  within  the  bowels  o'  the  skull, 
copper,  silver,  and  gold  !  Then  what  a  nose !  Like  a  bridge,  along 
which  might  be  driven  cart-loads  o'  intellect; — neither  Roman  nor 
Grecian,  hooked  nor  cockit,  a  wee  thocht  inclined  to  the  ae  side,  the 
pint  being  a  puirt  and  pendicle  o'  the  whole,  an  object  in  itsell,  but 
at  the  same  time  finely  smoothed  aff  and  on  intil  the  featur;  while 
his  nostrils,  small  and  red,  look  as  they  would  emit  fire,  and  had  the 
scent  o' a  jowler  or  a  vultur. 

Ambrose,  There  were  never  such  eyes  in  a  human  head 

Shepherd,  I  like  to  see  them  sometimes  shut.  The  instant  Mr. 
North  leaves  the  room,  aAer  dcnner  or  sooper,  it's  the  same  thing 
as  if  he  had  carried  afi*  wi'  him  twa  o'  the  fowre  cawnles. 

Ambrose,   I  have  often  felt  that,  sir,— exactly  that, — but  never 

*  Nov  Sfr  Jamei  Wataon  Gordon,  Freid  Jevt  of  tk«  Boyal  Acadomy  of  SooUaad— «Bd  the 
beat  portratt>iiuat«r  in  KdUbvfjph— for  Fimak  Gnwt  Utm  ia  LoBdoa.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


88  NOOTB8  AMBB06IANJL 

could  express  it  If  at  any  time  he  falls  asleep,  it  is  just  as  if  the 
waiter  or  myself  had  snuffed  out 

Shepherd,  Let  my  image  alane.  Mr.  Awmrose,  and  dinna  ride  it 
to  death— dooble.  But  what  I  admire  maist  o'  a*  in  the  face  o*  him, 
is  the  auld  man's  mouth.  There's  a  warld's  difference,  Mr.  Awm- 
rose, atween  a  lang  mouth  and  a  wide  ane. 

AmbroM,  There  is,  Mr.  Hogg,  there  is — they  are  two  different 
mouths  entirely.    I  have  often  felt  that,  but  could  not  express  it 

Shepherd.  Mr.  Awmrose,  youVe  a  person  that  taks  notice  o'  a 
hantle  o'  things — and  there  canna  be  a  stronger  proof,  or  a  better  il- 
lustration, of  the  effeck  o'  the  conversation  o*  a  roan  o'  genius  like 
me,  than  its  thus  seeming  to  express  former  feelings  and  fancies  of 
the  awditor — whereas,  the  truth  is,  that  it  disna  wauken  them  for 
the  second  time,  but  communicates  them  for  the  first^ — for  believe 
me,  that  the  idea  o'  the  cawnles,  and  eke  o'  the  difference  wi*  a  dis- 
tinction atween  wide  mouth  and  lang  anes,  never  entered  your  mind 
afore,  but  are  baith,  bonnafeedy,  the  property  o*  my  ain  intellect 

Ambrose.  I  ask  you  many  pardons,  Mr.  Hogg.  They  are  both 
your  own,  I  now  perceive,  and  I  promise  never  to  make  use  of  them 
without  your  permission  in  writing — or 

Shepherd,  Poo— I'm  no  sae  pernickity  as  that  about  my  original 
ideas;  only  when  folk  do  mak  use  o'  my  obs,  I  think  it  but  fair  they 
should  add,  "  as  Mr.  Hogg  well  said,"  "  as  the  Ettrick  Shephei^ 
admirably  remarked,"  **as  the  celebrated  author  o'  the  Queen's 
Wake,  wi'  his  usual  felicity,  observed" — and  so  forth — and  ma  faith, 
if  some  folk  that's  reckoned  yeloquent  at  roots  and  petty  soopers, 
were  aye  to  do  that,  when  they're  what's  ca'd  maist  brilliant,  my 
name  wad  be  seldom  out  o'  their  mouths.     Even  North  him  sell  — 

Ambrose,  Do  not  be  angrv  with  me,  sir — but  it's  most  delightful 
to  hear  Mr.  North  and  you  bandying  matters  across  the  table ;  ye 
tak  such  different  views  always  on  the  same  subject;  yet  I  find  it, 
when  standing  behind  the  chair,  impossible  not  to  agree  with  you 
both. 

Shepherd,  That's  just  it,  Mr.  Awmrose.  That's  the  way  to 
cxhowst  a  subject.  The  ane  o'  us  ploughs  down  the  rig,  and  the 
other  across,  then  on  wi'  the  harrows,  and  the  field  is  like  a  garden. 

Ambrose,  See,  sir,  he  stirs ! 

Shepherd,  The  crutch  is  like  a  very  tree  growin'  out  o'  the  earth 
— so  strncht  and  steady.  I  daursay  he  sleeps  wi't  in  his  bed.  Noo 
— ye  see  his  mouth  to  perfection — just  a  wee  open — showing  the 
teeth ^a  smile  and  no  a  snarl  — the  thin  lips  o'  him  slightly  curled 
and  quiverin',  and  comers  draw  doon  a  wee,  and  then  up  again  wi* 
a  swirl,  gien  wonderfu'  animation  to  his  yet  ruddy  cheeks— a  mouth 
unitin'  in  ane,  Mr.  Jaffray's  and  that  o'  Canning's  and  Qoero's 
busts. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


HOQO  ON  DBBAMB.  89 

Ambrose,  No  young  lady — no  widow — could  look  at  him  now, 
as  he  sits  there,  Mr.  Hog":,  God  bless  him,  without  thinking  of  a 
first  or  second  husband.     Many  is  the  offer  he  must  have  refused ! 

Shepherd.  Is  that  your  fashun  in  Yorkshire,  Mr.  Awmrose,  for  the 
women  to  ask  the  men  to  marry  1 

Ambrose,  {numrrans.)    EaxepHo  probat  regulam — sir. 

Shepherd.  Faith,  ye  speak  Latin  as  weePs  mysell.  Do  you  ken 
the  Doctrine  o'  Dreams? 

Ambrose,  No,  sir.  Dreaming  seems  to  me  a  very  unintelligible 
piece  of  business. 

Shepherd,  So  thinks  Mr.  Coleridge  and  Kubla  Khan.*  But  the 
sowl,  ye  see,  is  swayed  by  the  senses — and  it's  in  my  power  the  noo 
that  Mr.  North's  half-sleepin'  and  half-waukin',  to  make  him  dream 
o'  a'  sorts  o'  deaths — ^nay,  to  dream  that  he  is  himsell  deeiiig  a'  sorts 
o'deaths— ane  after  the  ither  in  ruefu'  succession,  as  if  he  were  some 
great  criminal  undergoing  capital  punishments  in  the  wild  warld  o' 
sleep. 

Ambrose.  That  would  be  worse  than  blacking  my  dear  master's 
face — for  by  that  name  I  love  to  call  him.  You  must  not  inflict  on 
him  the  horror  of  dreams. 

Shepherd.  There  can  be  nae  such  thing  as  cruelty  in  a  real  philo- 
sophical experiment,  in  philosophy,  though  not  in  politics,  the  end 
justifies  the  means.  Be  quiet,  Awmrose.  There  noo,  1  hae  dropped 
some  cauld  water  on  his  bald  pow — and  it's  tricklin'  doon  his  haffets 
to  his  lugs.  Whisht!  wait  a  wee !  There  na,  ye  aee  his  mouth 
openin'  and  his  chest  heavin',  as  if  the  waters  o'  the  deep  sea  were 
gullaring  in  his  throat.     He's  now  droonin' ! 

Ambrose.  1  cannot  support  this — Mr.  Hogg — I  must  — 

Shepherd.  Haud  back,  sir.  Look  how  he's  tryin'  to  streik  out  his 
richt  leg,  as  if  it  had  gotten  the  cramp.  He's  try  in'  to  cry  for  help. 
Noo  be  has  risen  to  the  surface  for  the  third  and  last  time.  Now 
he  gies  ower  strugglin',  and  sinks  doon  to  the  broon-ribbed  sand 
amang  the  crawling  partens ! 

Ambrose.  I  must — 1  shall  waken  him  — 

Shepherd.  The  dream'd  death-fit  is  owcr,  for  the  water's  dried — 
and  he  thinks  himsell  walkin'  up  Leith  Walk,  and  then  stracht  iutil 
Mr.  Blackwood's  shop.     But  noo  we'll  hang  him  — 

Ambrose,  My  God !  that  it  should  ever  have  come  to  this  !  Yet 
there  is  an  interest  in  such  philosophical  experiments,  Mr.  Hogg, 
which  it  is  impossible  to  resist.  But  do  not,  I  beseech  you,  keep 
him  long  in  pain. 

Shepherd.  There — I  just  tichten  a  wee  on  his  wizen  his  black 
neck'hankerchief,  and  in  a  moment  you'll  see  him  get  blue  in  the 
fiioe.     Quick  as  the  ^*  lightning  on  a  col  lied  night,"  the  dream  comes 

*  A  poem  whieK  Coleridga  iusift«d  be  had  oompoaed  ia  hie  deep.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


90  NOOTBB  AMBBOBIANA 

athwart  his  sowl !  He's  on  the  scaffold,  and  the  grey-headed,  red- 
eyed,  white-faced  hangman's  lean  shrivelled  hands  are  fumlilin'  nhoiit 
his  throat,  fixin'  the  knot  on  the  juglar !  See  how  puir  North 
clutches  the  cainhric,  naturally  averse  to  fling  it  frae  him,  as  a  signal 
for  the  drap !  It's  no  aboon  a  minnit  since  we  began  the  experi- 
ment, and  yet  during  that  ae  minute,  he  has  planned  and  perpetrated 
his  crime — nae  doubt  murder,— concealed  himsell  for  a  month  ia 
empty  hovels,  and  tombs,  in  towns, — in  glens,  and  muirs,  and  woods, 
in  the  kintra, — been  apprehended,  for  a  reward  o'  one  hundred  gui- 
neas, by  twa  red-coated  sheriff's  ofHcers — imprisoned  till  he  had 
nearly  run  his  letters — stood  his  trial  frae  ten  in  the  mornin'  till 
twelve  o'clock  at  nicht^-examination  o'  witnesses,  the  speech  o'  the 
croon  coonsel,  and  that  o'  the  coonsel  for  ihe  panel  too,  and  ihe 
aoomin'  up  o'  the  Lord  Justice  Clerk,  nane  o'  the  three  shorter  than 
twa  hours, — been  prayed  till  frae  daybreak  to  breakfast,  by  three 
ministers, — O  sickenin'  breakfast ! — Sat'n  in  a  chair  on  account  of 
his  gout — a  lang  lang  time  on  the  scaffold — and  then  aff  he  goea 
with  a  swing,  a  swirl,  and  a  general  shriek — and  a'  within  the  space 
o*  some  forty  seconds  o'  the  time  that  passes  in  the  outer  air  world, 
which  we  wauken'  creatures  inhabit — but  which  is  the  true  time  and 
which  is  the  fause,  it's  no  for  me  to  say,  for  I'm  nae  metaphysician ; 
and  judge  o'  time,  either  by  the  shadows  on  the  hill,  or  on  the  stane 
sun-dial,  or  by  the  short  and  lang  haun'  o'  our  aught-day  clock. 

Ambrose.  Mr.  Hogg,  it  is  high  time  this  were  put  an  end  to — ^my 
conscience  accuses  me  of  a  great  crime — and  the  moment  Mr.  North 
awakes,  I  will  ntake  a  clean  bosom  of  it,  and  confess  the  whole. 

Shepherd.  What!  you'll  'peach,  will  you?  In  that  case,  it  is  just 
as  weel  to  proceed  to  the  last  extremity.  Rax  me  ower  the  carviu' 
knife,  and  I'll  guillotine  him  — 

Ambrose.  Shocking,  shocking,  Mr.  Hogg ! 

(The  Shepherd  and  Ambrosk  strvggle  violently  for  the  possession 
of  the  carving  knife ^ — amid  cries  from  the  latter  of  "Thieves, 
— Robbers — Fire — Murder  !'' — and  in  the  struggle  they  fall 
against  the  chimney-piece^  to  ihe  clash  of  shovel,  poker  and  tongs. 
Brontk,  who  has  been  sleeping  under  North's  chair,  bursts  out 
with  a  bull-bellow,  a  tiger-growl,  and  a  lion-roar—and  North 
awakes — collaring  the  Shepherd.) 

Bronte,  Bow — wow — wow — wow — wow — wow  — 
Shepherd.   Ca*  aff  your  doug,  Mr.  North, — ca'  aff  your  doug ! 
He's  devoorin'  me  — 

North.  {Undisturbed  from  his  former  posture.)  Gentlemen,  what 
is  the  meaning  of  all  this — you  seem  discomposed  ?  James!  en- 
gaged in  the  duello  with  Mr.  Ambrose?     Mr.  Ambrose ! 

{JSxit  Mr.  Ambrose,  retrogrediens,  much  confused,) 


Digitized  by 


Google 


ICAlffKEBS.  01 

Shepherd,  Pll  ca*  him  out — I'll  ca'  hira  out  wi'  pistols.  He  was 
the  first  aggressor. 

North.  Arrange  your  dreas,  James,  then  sit  down  and  narrate  to 
me  truly  these  ptusquam  eivilia  bella. 

Shepherd.  Why,  ye  see,  sir,  a  gentleman  in  the  hotel,  a  Russian 
General,  1  believe,  was  anxious  to  see  you  sleepin',  and  to  take  a 
sketch  o'  you  in  that  predicament  for  the  Emperor,  and  Mr.  Awm- 
rose  insisted  on  bringin'  him  in  whether  I  would  or  no, — and  as  I 
know  you  have  an  antipathy  against  having  your  head  taken  aff — 
as  naebody  can  hit  the  face,  and  a'  the  likenesses  yet  attempted  are 
mere  caricatures — I  rose  to  oppose  the  entrance  o'  the  General.  Mr. 
Awmrose  put  himself  into  what  I  could  not  but  construe  a  fechting 
attitude,  though  I  daursay  it  was  only  on  the  defensive  ;  we  yokit, 
and  on  me  try  in'  to  hough  him,  we  tumbled  again'  the  mantel-piece, 
and  you  awoke.  This  is  the  truth,  the  whole  truth,  and  nothing  but 
the  truth. 

(North  rings  the  bell  violently^  and  Mb.  Ambrose  appears.) 

North.  Show  in  the  Russian  General,  sir. 

Ambrose,  The  Russian  General,  sir  1 

North.  How  dare  you  repeat  my  words  ?  I  say,  sir,  show  in  the 
Russian  General. 

Shepherd.  Haw —  haw —  haw — haw — haw — haw — haw — haw  ! — 
I'm  like  to  spleet! — haw — haw — haw — haw — haw — ^haw! 

Norths  (with  dignity.)  These  manners,  sir,  may  do  in  Ettrick — 
or  the  Forest — where  the  breed  of  wild  boars  is  not  wholly  extir- 
pated— but  in  Edinburgh  we  expect 

Shepherd.  Na — gin  that  be  the  way  o't,  I  maun  be  on  my  mettle 
too.  As  for  your  wutticism,  sir,  about  the  boars,  it's  just  perfectly 
contemptible,  and,  indeed,  at  the  best,  nae  better  than  a  maist 
meeserable  pun.  And  as  to  mainners,  I'll  bet  you  a  ten^allon 
cask  to  a  half-mutchkin,  that  I'll  show  an  elder  in  Yarrow-Kirk,  ony 
Sabbath  atween  this  and  Christmas,  that  shall  outmainner  your 
ainsell,  wi*  a'  your  high  breedin*,  in  everything  that  constitutes  true 
natural  dignity — and  as  for  female  mainners,  seleck  the  maist  yele- 
gant  and  fashionable  .leddy  that  you  see  walkin'  alang  Prince's 
Street,  wi*  a  bonnet  bigger  than  a  boyne,  atween  three  and  four  o' 
the  afternoon,  when  the  stree's  like  a  stream,  and  gin  I  dinna  bring 
frae  the  Forest,  within  a  mile's  range,  wi'  Mount  Benger  the  centre 
o'  the  circle,  a  bare-Jcgged  lassie,  wi'  hauns.  aiblins,  red  and  hard 
wi'  milkin'  the  coos,  wi'  naething  on  her  head  but  a  bit  o*  pinch- 
beck kame,  that  shall  outmainner  your  city  madam,  till  she  blush 
black  through  the  red  pent  on  her  cheeks — my  name's  no  James 
Hogg — that's  all.  And  whether  you  tak  the  wager  or  no,  let  me 
tell  you  to  the  face  o'  you,  that  you're  a  damned  arrogant,  upsettin'. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


92  NOCTE8  AMBB06IANJL 

impudent  fallow,  and  that  I  do  not  care  the  crack  o'  my  thoom  for 
you,  or  your  Magazin,  or  your  Buchanan  Lodge,  were  you  and  they 
worth  ten  thousand  million  times  mair  than  what  you  ever  will  be, 
as  lang's  your  name's  Christopher  North. 

North,  James — ^you  are  a  pretty  fellow.  Nothing  will  satisfy 
you,  it  seems,  but  to  insult  most  grossly  the  old  man  whom  you 
have  first  drowned  in  his  sleep,  then  hanged,  and,  but  for  my  guard- 
ian angel,  Ambrose,  would  have  guillotined  ! 

Shepherd,  What!  and  you  were  pretendin'  to  be  asleep  a'  the 
while  o'  the  pheelosophical  experiments !  What  a  horrid  heepo- 
crit !  YouVe  really  no  fit  company  for  plain,  simple,  honest  folk 
like  the  like  o'  me — but  as  we've  been  baith  to  blame,  especially 
you,  who  began  it  a'  by  shammin'  sleep,  let's  shake  hauns — and  say 
nae  mair  about  it  Do  ye  ken  I'm  desperate  hungry — and  no  a  lit- 
tle thrusty. — (Re-enter  Mr.  Ambrobb,  in  trim  apparel  and  downca»i 
eyes — itnlh  a  board  of  oysters,) 

North.  Bless  you,  James,  you  wheel  me  round  in  my  chair  to  the 
table  wi'  quite  a  filial  touch.  Ay,  my  dear  boy,  take  a  pull  at 
the  porter,  for  you  are  in  a  violent  perspiration. 

Shepherd,  Nathing  like  drafl ! 

North,  Mr.  Ambrose,  confine  the  Russian  General  to  his  chamber 
— and  see  that  you  keep  him  in  fresh  train-oil. 

(Exit  Mr.  Ambrose,  smiling  through  his  tears.) 

North,  Japes,  I  shrewdly  suspect  Mr.  Ambrose  is  up  to  our  high 
jinks. 

Shepherd,  1  really  begin  to  jalouse  he  is.  He  was  sair  frichtened 
at  first — but  I  thocht  I  heard  him  gi'en  a  bit  grunt  o'  a  lauch,  a  sort 
o'  suppress'd  nicher,  ahint  the  door,  to  the  flunkies  in  the  trance, 
wha  had  a'  flocked  thegither  in  a  crowd  at  the  cry  o'  Fire  and  Mur- 
der. Hech,  sirs!  but  the  month  o'  Septembers  the  month  afler 
my  ain  heart — and  worth  ony  ither  twa  in  the  year— comin'  upon 
you,  as  it  does,  after  May,  June,  July,  and  August,  wi'  its  R  and 
its  Eisters* — na,  that  brodd  beats  a' — ilka  shell  as  wide's  my  loof — 
ilka  fish  like  a  shot-star — and  the  tottle  o'  the  whole  swimming  in 
its  ain  sawt-sea  liccor,  aneuch  to  create  an  appeteet  in  the  palate  o' 
yon  Atomy  swingin'  in  Dr.  Munro's  class  in  the  College  by  himsell 
during  the  lang  vacation — puir  fallow  ! 

North,  Dear  to  me,  James,  September,  because  of  the  harvest 
moon  — 

Shepherd.  Haud  your  tongue,  ye  heepocrit.  The  harvest  moon, 
indeed  !     Did  ye  ever  aince  see  ner  horns,  or  her  lugs,  or  her  eeOy 

*  The  rale  ii  to  tat  oyiten  ia  the  moDtha  which  h^ra  tha  lattar  R  ia  them.  la  Eof  laad 
is  prohibitad  by  law  to  trail  for  oyitan  ia  May,  Jaaa,  July,  aad  Aufut,  wham  tkay  ua  Waa 
iag.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


THE  ULT  OF  THS  LKl.  98 

or  ber  mou',  or  her  chin,  or  her  nose,  or  her  Toot-nsamble,  ati  the 
French  say,  during  a'  that  September  you  passed  wi'  us  at  Mount 
Bengcr  the  year  afore  last,  when  wee  Jamie,  you  ken,  had  the 
mizzles  ? 

North,  Why,  James,  there  was  perpetual  mist  — 

Shepherd,  Frae  the  toddy  jug.  Ye  wad  aye  drink  it  het — and 
'deed  1  agree  wi'  you  in  detestin'  a  blash  o'  cauld  speerits  and  water 
wi'  broon  sugar—aneuch  to  gar  you  gru,  scunner  and  bock — ye 
wad  aye  drink  it  het,  and  frae  gloamin'  till  midnicht  assuredly  there 
was  a  mist, — but  hoo  could  you  possibly  see  the  moon,  ye  auld 
sinner,  through  the  mist,  like  ane  o'  Ossian's  ghosts,  when  regularly 
at  sax  o'clock  you  axed  me  to  ripe  the  ribs,  and  shut  the  shutters 
—and 

North.  I  rung  the  bell  f\)r  that  bonnie  lassie,  the  '*  lass  with  the 
gowden  hair,"  to  come  with  her  brush  which  she  brandished  so 
prettily,  and  sweep  in  the  ashes  — 

Shepherd.  I  ca'd  you  an  auld  sinner — and  an  auld  sinner  ye  are, 
my  niaist  excellent  sir,  though  I  gladly  alloo  there's  no  a  better 
man,  for  a'  that,  'mang  the  eight  hundred  millions  inhabiting  the 
earth. 

North,  Sits  still  so  trigly,  James,  the  silken  snood  of  my  Lily  of 
the  Lea? 

BoQoy  Kilmeny  gaed  up  tbe  gleo, 
But  it  was  na  to  meet  Duoeira'a  meo 

Shepherd,  The  last  time  I  saw  your  Lily  o'  the  Lea,  sir,  she  wa« 
sittin'  on  a  stane  at  the  cheek  o  the  door,  wi'  a  mutch  ower  her 
tawty  hair,  a  geyan  dirty  face,  bauchles  on,  and  booklin'  twuns. 

North,  Suckling  twins!  O  Jupiter  and  Leda!  Castor  and 
Pollux ! 

Shepherd,  Ay,  just  socklin*  twuns.  But  what's  there  in  that  to 
gar  you  turn  up  the  whites  o'  your  een.     Tibbie's  married. 

North,  And  I  devoutly  trust  to  a  man  worthy  of  her  beauty,  ber 
virtue,  her  innocence — her 

Shepherd,  The  tailor  carried  her  aff  frae  them  a' — the  flyin' 
tailor  o'  Ettrick,*  sir — him  that  can  do  fifteen  yards,  at  hap,  step, 
and  loup,  back  and  forward  on  level  grun' — stood  second  ae  year  in 
the  ring  at  Carlisle— can  put  a  stane  within  a  foot  o'  Jedburgh  Bell 
himsell,  and  fling  the  hammer  neist  best  ower  a'  the  border  to 
Geordy  Scougal  o   Innerleithen. 

North,  Another  phantom  of  my  imagination  has  melted,  like  a 
dew-drop  from  the  earth.     To  a  tailor  ! 

Shepherd,  Another  phantom  o'  my  imagination  has  melted,  like 

*  The  ftyimf  tiilar  of  XktiMk  is  Um  keio  of  &  mock  Mrtoas  poom  is  Hoff '■  Footie  Mirror. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


94  K0CTB8  AMBBOeiANJL 

a  dew^rop  frae  the  earth — and  a  sappier  eister  never  plajM  plump 
in  til  a  human  stamach. 

North.  James,  that  is  a  sacrilegious  parody  on  the  expression  of 
one  of  the  finest  feelings  that  breathes  a  sadness  over  our  common 
humanity.     Eat  your  oysters  afler  your  own  fashion — but 

Shepherd,  O,  sir!  I  wonder  to  see  you,  at  your  time  o'  life, 
lameiitin*  that  a  bit  ferny-tickled  kintra-Iassie,  that  used  to  gang 
atween  barn  and  byre  wi'  worsted  buggers  on,  and  a  jacket  o' 
striped  niankey,  should  hae  sae  far  improved  her  condition  within 
the  year,  as  to  be  a  sonsie  gndewife,  double  the  size  she  used  to  be 
— her  wee  bit  prim  rosy  mouth,  aince  sae  like  a  bud  that  refused  to 
open  out  even  in  the  sunshine,  noo  aye  wide  open  as  if  wishing  to 
catch  flees — and  her  voice,  formerly  sae  laigh  and  loun,  now  loud 
and  fierce  as  ony  ither  wife  and  mither's,  scaulding  the  servant-lass, 
the  doug,  or  a  tramper. 

North.  True — James — as  Wordsworth  says, 

*  Such  ebb  and  flow  must  erer  be, 
Theu  wherefore  should  we  mourn  T 

Shepherd.  As  Wordsworth  says —  whroo !  Nae  occasi6n  for 
quoting  ony  body  but  oursells.  We  twa  ken  as  muckle — and  mair 
too,  o'  human  nature,  in  its  various  phawses,  than  a*  the  Pond  Poets 
pitten  thegither.  O  man  !  Mr.  North,  but  my  heart  has  often  and 
oflen  amaist  dee'd  within  me,  to  think  that  a'  we  love  and  long  for, 
pine  to  possess,  and  bum  to  enjoy — a*  that  passion  maddens  for 
on  the  niidnicht  pillow,  in  the  desert  day-dream — a'  that  the  yearn- 
ing sowl  would  fail  expand  itself  to  embrace  within  the  rainbow 
circle  o'  its  holiest  and  maist  heavenly  affections — a'  that  speeritual- 
eezes  our  human  nature,  till  our  very  dust-formed  bodies  seem  o* 
the  essence  o'  licht,  or  flowers,  or  music,  something  no  terrestrial, 
but  akin  to  the  elements  o'  our  native  regions  on  the  blue  cloudless 
lift 

North.  You  touch  a  chord,  James — ^you  do  indeed — ^you  touch  a 
chord 

Shepherd.  Should  a*  be  delusion — a  glamour  flung  ower  us  by  a 
celestial  but  deceitful  spirit — felt  and  seen,  as  soon  as  it  is  broken, 
and  dissolved,  to  have  been  a  fiction,  a  falsehood,  a  lie — a  sofb, 
sweet,  bright,  balmy,  triumphant  and  glorious  lie,  in  place  of  which 
nature  offers  us  in  mockery,  during  a*  the  rest  o'  our  lives,  the  puir, 
paltry,  pitiful,  faded,  fushionless,  cauld-rifed,  and  chittering  substi- 
tute— ^Truth.  O,  sir  !  waes  me,  that  by  stripping  a'  creation,  fauld 
after  fauld,  o*  gay,  glitterin*,  gorgeous  and  glorious  apparellin',  you 
are  sure  al  last  to  come  to  the  hard,  naked  Truth 

North.  Hamlet  has  it,  James, — "  a  foul  congregation  of  vapors  *' — 

Shepherd.  Or  say  rather,  like  a  body  carelessly  or  purposely 


Digitized  by 


Google 


OBIEF  AlfD  JOY.  95 

pressin'  a  full-blawn  or  budding  rose  atween  his  finger  and  his 
thoonib,  soaliii'  leaf  after  leaf,  till  what  hae  you  in  your  hand  at  last 
but  the  bare  heart  o*  the  flower,  and  you  look  down  amang  your  feet 
in  vain  for  the  scattered  and  dissipated  bloom  that  a  moment  afore 
thrust  its  bold  beauty  into  the  eyes  of  the  sun,  and  seemed  o*  its  ain 
single  self  to  be  scenting  the  haill  wilderness,  then  sweet  wi'  its 
grassy  brnes,  as  if  the  heavens  had  hung  over  mountains  o'  bloomin' 
heather  steeped  in  morning  dew  evaporating  in  mist  wreaths,  exhaled 
from  earth  to  heaven  in  morning  sacrifice  ! 

North,  And  Tibbie  has  twins ! 

Shepherd.  'Deed  has  she,  sir.     Her  poetry  is  now  prose. 

North,  Gone  all  the  light  lyrical  measures !  all  the  sweet  pauses 
transposed.  The  numerous  verse  of  her  virgin  being  shorn  of  all 
its  rhymes  so  musical — a  thousand  tunes,  each  in  its  specific  sweet- 
ness murmuring  of  a  separate  soul,  blended  indistinguishably  into 
one  monotcmy,  and  marriage,  marriage,  marriage  is  the  deadening 
word  ! 

Shepherd,  That's  treason,  sir, — treason  against  natur.  Is  the 
young  1  in  tie,  I  would  ask,  flutterin'  amnng  the  broom,  or  balancin' 
itsell  in  sportive  happiness  on  ane  o'  the  yt*llow  jewels,  half  sae 
bonny  as  the  same  lintie  sittin'  in  its  nest  within  a  briar-bush,  wi' 
its  head  lying  sae  meek  and  lovingly  on  the  rim  o'  the  moss,  and  a' 
its  breast  yearning  wi'  the  still  deep  instinctive  bliss  o'  maternal 
affection — or  fleeing  ten  times  a  minute  frae  briar-bush  to  bracken- 
brae,  and  frae  bracken-brae  to  briar-bush,  wi'  insects,  and  worms, 
and  caterpillars,  and  speeders  in  her  neb,  to  satisfy  the  hunger  o'  a 
nest  a'  agape  wi'  yellow-throated  young  anes,  and  then  sett! in*  her- 
sell  down  again,  as  saflly  as  if  she  were  naeihtng  but  feathers,  aboon 
her  brood  in  that  cozie  bield,  although  but  a  bit  sillie  burdie,  happy 
as  ony  angel  in  the  heaven  o'  heavens  ? 

North,  A  sweet  imoge,  Jame^, — an  image  that  beams  the  light  of 
poetry  on  the  Prose-ground  of  human  life !  But,  alas  I  that  thin 
golden  ring  lays  a  heavy  weight  on  the  hand  that  wears  it.  The 
nnger  it  seriously  and  somewhat  sadly  decks,  never  again,  with  so 
lightsome  touch,  braids  the  hair  above  the  fair  forehead, — the  gay, 
gladsome,  tripping,  dancing,  and  singing  maiden  soon  changes  into 
the  staid,  calm,  douce,  almost  mehmcholy  matron,  whose  tears  are 
then  sincerer  than  her  smiles — with  whom  Joy  seems  but  a  tran- 
sient visitor, — Grief  a  constant  guest. 

Shepherd,  And  this  warld,  ye  ken,  sir,  and  nane  kens  better,  was 
made  for  Grief  as  weel  as  iov  Joy.  Grief  and  Joy,  unlike  as  they 
appear  in  face  and  figure,  are  nevertheless  sisters, — and  by  fate  and 
destiny,  their  verra  lives  depend  on  ane  and  the  same  eternal  law. 
Were  Grief  banished  frae  this  life,  Joy  would  soon  dwine  awa  into 
the  resemblance  o'  her  departed  Soror— aye,  her  &ce  would  soon  be 


Digitized  by 


Google 


96  Nocm  iJCBBoeiAirjs. 

whiter  and  mair  woe-begone,  and  they  would  soon  be  buried,  side 
by  side,  in  ae  grave. 

North,  Shake  hands,  my  dear  James.  I  am  in  bad  spirits  to- 
night, and  love  to  listen  to  your  benign  philosophy. 

Sfiepherd,  1  hae  nae  philosophy,  my  dear  Mr.  North ;  but  I  howp 
1  hae  some  religion.  If  I  had  not,  the  banes  o'  my  father  and  my 
mother  would  not  lie  at  rest  in  Yarrow  kirkyard.  Philosophy,  I 
hae  nae  doubt,  is  an  excellent,  a  eapital  thing, — and  Vm  sure  Poetry 
is  sae, — but  ihe  ane  is  but  the  moon,  which,  bricht  and  bonny  though 
she  be,  is  oflen  sairly  benichted,  and  at  the  best  shines  by  a  reflected 
licht, — the  ither  is  like  the  stars — no  useless  in  their  beauty — God 
forbid  I  ever  should  think  sich  a  stupid  thocht — but  still,  after  a\  no 
just  sae  usefu'  perhaps,  in  the  ordinair  sense  o'  utility,  as  they  are 
pleasant  and  delichtfu'  to  the  shepheitl  on  the  hills; — but  the  last, 
that  is,  Religion,  she,  sir,  is  like  the  sun,  that  gladdens  heaven  and 
eaith,  gars  a'  things  grow,  baith  for  the  profit  and  the  pleasure 
o'  man,  and  convinces  us,  alike  in  gloom  and  glory,  that  the  mortal 
senses  hold  a  mysterious  communion  with  the  immortal  soul ;  that 
"  we  are  greater  than  we  seem ;" — may  I  be  pardoned  for  even 
venturing  to  say,  even  here — and  why  not? — that  **the  things  which 
are  seen  are  temporal,  and  the  things  which  are  not  seen  are 
eternal." 

North,  You  may  say  it,  James,  without  reproach  here,  over  the 
social  board — there,  by  yourself,  in  the  wilderness — anywhere,  by 
day  or  by  night,  on  the  world  of  green  earth  or  f«>aroy  waters,  on  the 
stead fitst  brae  or  reeling  deck,  in  calm  or  in  storm,  in  joy  or  in  sor- 
row, in  life  and  in  death.  Shame  on  the  coward  heart  that  fears  to 
utter  what  itself  prompts  !  Shame  on  the  coward  ear  that  fears  to 
hear  what  the  heart  dictates,  in  any  time  or  any  place,  where  the 
mood  is  blameless, — for  mirth  is  still  in  sympathy  with  melancholy, 
and  what,  oh !  what  thoughts  profound  circle  round  the  wine^up, 
when  it  flows  to  the  memory  of  one  beloved  of  yore, — one  who  left 
us  in  the  sunshine  of  youth,  and  seems  to  re-appear  like  a  veiled 
shadow  across  the  light  of  the  festal  fire — and  then  in  a  moment 
away  into  oblivion  ? 

Shepherd,  Then  you  see,  sir,  the  place  o'  the  bonnie  young 
distractin'  and  deceitfu'  creatures— for,  wi*  a-  their  innocence — ^a 
favorite  word  wi*  you,  sir— they  are  deoeitfu' — their  places,  I  say, 
are  supplied  by  anither  flock  o'  flowers — just  like  annuals  afber 
annuals — as  fair  and  as  fragrant  as  theirsells — and  thus,  amid  the 
perpetual  decay  and  the  perpetual  renovation,  there  is  naething 
worth  weeping  for — except,  indeed,  when  twa  silly  poets  like  us,^ 
and  ye  are  a  poet,  sir,  though  ye  dinna  write  verses, — ^foregather 
ower  a  brodd  and  a  bowl,  and  gie  vent,  the  ane  or  the  ither  o'  us, 
it's  tbe  tumin'  a'  %  straw  which,  to  moumfu'  heart-ankiniCB  that 


Digitized  by 


Google 


DsinnaBNKESB.  97 

matm  hae  an  inkling  o'  pleasure  in  them,  or  else  thej  would  be  at 
aince  repressed — and  seek  in  a  sort  o'  diseased  or  distempered  wil- 
fulness, just  as  you  hae  been  doing  the  noo — to  look  on  the  world  in 
a  licht  that  it  was  never  intended  we  should  look  on  it,  and  to  people 
it  wi'  sorrowfu'  spectres,  instead  o'  various  kinds  o'  gude  flesh-and- 
blood  f<ilk,  a'  gude  in  their  degree,  in  their  plaoe,  and  in  their  time, 
— and  if  that  be  true,  is  na  a'  moping  contrar  to  richt  reason,  and 
them  that's  Penserosos  for  the  maist  pairt — Sumphsl 

North,  •*  Melancholy  and  gentlemanlike,"  you  know,  James. 

Shepherd.  It's  a  wicked  ack,  sir,  in  a  warld  like  ours,  to  pretend 
to  sham  melancholy  ;  and  if  a  man  canna  contrive,  by  ony  other 
means,  to  look  like  a  gentleman,  he  had  far  better  keep  on  lookin' 
like  a  bagman.  Besides  being  wicked,  it's  dangerous;  for  by  pre- 
tending to  be  melancholy,  in  desperation  o'  being  thought  a  gentle- 
man by  ony  other  mair  natural  contrivances  and  endowments,  a 
man  comes  to  get  himsell  universally  despisexi^-contempt  kills 
credit — then  follows  bankruptcy — and  the  upshot  o'  the  whole  is 
suicide — ^jail — or  America. 

North,  But  to  be  rational,  and  as  far  as  possible  from  the  poetical 
and  the  pathetic,  I  often  shudder,  James,  in  solitude,  to  think  of  the 
diange,  generally  slow,  but  often  sudden,  from  the  happiness  of 
maidenhood,  to  the  misery  of  the  wife,  especially  in  many  of  the 
classes  of  the  lower  orders  of  society.  I  use  advisedly  the  words — 
happiness  and  misery.  James,  the  whole  world  groans.  I  hear  it 
groaning — though  no  Fine-Ear  to  the  doleful. 

Shepherd.  There's  owre  muckle  truth  in  what  you  say,  Mr.  North; 
and  were  we  to  think  too  intently  on  the  dark  side  o'  the  picture, 
or  rather  on  the  mony  great  big  black  blotches  disfigurin'  the 
brichtest  pairts  o'  the  fairest  side  o'  the  married  life  o'  the  puir,  and 
ignorant,  and  depraved,  weel  might  we  shut  them  in  despair,  and 
weep  for  the  maist  o'  woman-born  !  Meesery  never  comes  to  a 
bead  but  in  marriage.  Yet,  oh!  how  diffi^rent  might  it  be,  without 
supposing  human  natur*  to  be  altogether  changed,  but  only  what  it 
was  intended  to  be,  in  spite  o'  original  sin  and  corruption  ! 

North,  How  many  hundreds  of  thousands  of  harsh  husbands — 
nay,  cruel  —  savage  —  fierce  —  drunken  —  furious  —  insane —  mur- 
derous? What  horrid  oaths  heard  at  the  humble  ingle — and, 
worse  than  oaths,  blows  and  shrieks — and  the  pregnant  mother  of 
terrified  children,  all  crouching  in  a  corner,  on  her  knees  beseech- 
ing the  demoniacal  homicide  not  to  kick  to  death  the  babe  yet 
unborn — for  its  sake  to  remember  the  days  of  their  courtship — 


Shepherd.  Whisht — whisht — whisht ! 
North.  Drunkenness  is  the  cause  of  nine-tenths  of  the  grief  and 
guilt  that  aggravate  the  inevitable  distresses  of  the  poor.     Dry  up 
Vol.  in.-^ 


Digitized  by 


Google 


98  HOOTBB  AMBBOeiAHJL 

that  horrid  thirst,  and  the  hearts  of  the  wretched  would  sing  aload 
for  joy.  In  their  sober  senses,  it  seldom  happens  that  men,  in  a 
Christiati  country,  are  such  savages.  But  all  cursed  passions  latent 
in  the  heart,  and,  seemingly  at  least,  dead,  or  non-existent,  while 
that  heart  beats  healthily  in  sober  industry,  leap  up  fierce  and  full- 
grown  in  the  power  of  drunkenness,  making  the  man  at  once  a 
maniac,  or  rather  at  once  converting  him  into  a  fiend. 

Shepherd.  There^s  nae  cure  for  that  but  edication— edicatin'  o' 
the  people— clear  the  head,  and  you  strengthen  the  heart — gie 
thoughts,  and  feelings  follow — I  agree  wi'  Socrates  in  thinking  a' 
Tice  ignorance,  and  a'  virtue  knowledge,  takin'  a*  the  four  words  in 
the  highest  sense  o'  which  they  are  cawpable.  Then  they  are  baith 
ff«'fa  m^evra  xai  q)6i)vovf'a  (fvvff oi(fi. 

North,  Yet  I  sometimes  feel  myself  almost  compelled  to  agree 
with  the  present  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,*  that  there  is  something 
necessarily  and  essentially  immoral  and  irreligious  in  the  cultiva* 
tion  of  the  intellect 

Shepherd.  Na — na — na — that  can  never  bo 

North.  His  lordship  means — ^apart  from^-divorced  fipom  the  cul- 
tivation of  those  feelings  and  principles — those  great  natural  instincts 
— by  which  man  is  a  moral  and  religious  being.  The  tendency  of 
intellect,  not  only  left  to  itself,  but  instructed  solely  in  its  own 
knowledge,  is  averse,  his  Liordship  holds,  from  the  contemplation  and 
the  love  of  more  holy  and  higher  things ;  and 

Shepherd.  Ay,  there  he's  richt.  1  perfectly  agree  wi'  his  lord- 
ship there — and  I  wish  he  ken't  it — for  aiblins  I'm  better  acquainted, 
practically  acquainted,  I  mean,  than  ony  archbishop's  likely  to  be 
— nae  disparagement  to  the  Episoopawlian  church — wi'  the  virtues 
and  vices,  the  sins,  sorrows,  and  sufferings,  the  noble  thochts,  and 
feelin's,  and  acks,  the  every-day  wark-life,  the  Sabbath-day  rest-life, 
o'  the  Puir  !  The  first  often  painfu',  laborious,  nay,  slavish,  and  wi' 
but  ordinar'  satisfactions  belongin*  to  our  lower  natur ;  the  last,  in 
Scotland  at  least,  pleasant,  calm,  and  elevated  in  blissfu'  release,  up 
to  a  mood  that,  alike  in  the  auld  gray-headed  grandfiither,  and  his 
bit  bonnie  wee  oe  walking  haun  in'  haun'  wi'  him  to  the  kirk,  does 
indeed  deserve  the  name  o'  religion,  if  sic  a  thing  as  religion  be  onj 
where  to  be  found  atween  heaven  and  earth. 

North,  You  speak  like  yourself,  my  dear  James.  In  their  pre* 
sent  zeal  for  intellectual  education,  many  good  men  forget 

Shepherd.  Then  they  should  be  reminded,  that  a'  the  knowledge 
which  the  puir — 1  needna  explain  the  sense  in  which  I  use  the  word 
puir— can  ever  acquire  in  schools,  or  mechanical  institutions,  can  be 
nae  mair  than  subsidiary  to  a  fiir  higher  knowledge ;  and  if  that  be 

•  Dr.  WUliuB  HowUy,  wkodM  tm  1848. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


XDUQAnoir.  99 

n^lecked,  or  undervalued,  a'  that  thej  can  ever  learn  will  either 
be  useless  or  pernicious — for  is  nae  the  chief  end  o'  man  "  to  fear 
God  and  keep  his  commandments  f 

North,  I  believe,  my  admirable  friend,  that  you  have  said  in  a 
few  plain  and  simple,  but,  allow  mo  to  add,  beautiful  and  noble 
words — all  that  can  possibly  be  said  on  this  all-important  subject. 
Put  round  the  jug,  James. 

Shepherd.  Then,  sir,  what  may  be  the  case  in  England,  I  dinna 
weel  ken — ^for  I  never  was  ony  where  in  England  except  at  the  Lakes 
on  a  veesit  to  your  frien*  the  Professor,  then  only  the  author  o'  the 
Isle  of  Pawms,  and  the  City  o'  the  Plague ;  and  the  folk  there 
seemed  no  unlike  the  folk  in  our  ain  kintra,  only  they  thocht  ower 
little  o'  leadiu*  in  com  on  dry  Sundays  in  rainy  weather, — but  in 
Scotland,  the  people  are  not  ignorant — it  is  lang  since  they  were 
ignorant, — and  to  retuin  to  what  we  were  say  in'  about  unhappy 
marriages,  believe  me,  sir,  when  I  sav,  that  maist  marriages — by  far 
the  maist — are  happy — for  a  warld  o  new  thochts,  and  new  feelings, 
is  unfalded  within  wife's  and  husband's  heart — and  though  there 
will  be  sour  or  dour  looks  at  a  time — some  fly  tin' — ^and  even  wilfu' 
meesery,— these  are  but  the  sughin'  wunds  and  the  drivin'  duds — 
and  the  Lid  o'  Life,  gin  I  may  use  the  expression,  is,  generally  speak- 
ing, like  our  ain  dear,  sweet,  blue  Scottish  sky,  a'  the  year  through, 
spring,  simmer,  awturan,  and  wunter,  pleasant  baith  to  the  ee,  and 
to  the  sowl, — for  God  reigns  day  and  nicht,  aboon  and  below,  alike 
in  dead  creation,  and  in  us  his  cr^tures,  wha,  if  they  serve  him, 
shall  never  dee,  but  have  immortal  life. 

North,  Perhaps,  then,  James,  you  think  that  in  Scotland,  what 
we  have  chiefly  to  do  is  to  keep  Question  right — to — r- 

Shepherd,  Nearly  sao.  At  a'  yevents,  nane  but  ignorant  sumphs 
wad  apply  to  the  people  o'  Scotlan'  that  vile  nonsense  about  the 
"  March  o'  Intellect,''  And  so  forth, — for  our  ancestors  hae  for  gene- 
rations been  as  wise  in  the  best  o'  a'  wisdom  as  oursells — though 
there  has  been  great  improvement  in  a'  the  airts,  and  aiblins  the 
scee-ences, — but  o'  the  latter  I  shanna  for  I  canna  speak — and  aboon 
a'  things  else,  there  has  been  wrought  by  that  means  a  great  and 
beneficial  change  in  the  agricultur  o'  the  kintra. 

North,  Yet  something,  I  fear,  James,  may  have  been  lost. 

Shepherd,  Ay,  mony  a  thing,  that  had  I  my  ain  way,  shud  leeve 
forever.  But  religion,  wi'  a'  the  cauld  rife  changes  in  life,  and  man- 
ners, and  customs,  still  strongly  survives — and,  thanks  to  Robert 
Bums— and  aiblins  ane  or  twa  mair,  there  is  still  poetry  amang  our 
braes, — and  o'  nae  shepherd  on  our  Scottish  hills  could  it  be  truly 
said,  in  the  language  o'  Wordsworth  •*— 


Digitized  by 


Google 


100  NOCT£S   AMBBOSIAN^. 

A  primroee  od  the  riTer^s  brim, 
A  yellow  primrose  was  to  him, 
And  it  was  Dothiug  more. 

For  as  gude  a  poet  as  Wordsworth,  and,  in  my  opinion,  a  better 
too,  has  tauld  us  what  he  felt  frae  the  sicht  o'  a  Mountain  Daisy. 

North,  There  is  comfort  in  that  creed,  my  dear  James.  I  feel  as 
if  an  oppressive  weight  were  taken  from  my  heart. 

Shepherd,  Then  that's  mair  than  I  do — mair  than  you  or  ony 
ither  man  should  say,  after  devoorin'  half  a  hunder  eisters — and 
siccnn  eisters — to  say  naething  o*  a  lippenny  loaf,  a  quarter  o'  a 
pund  o'  butter — and  the  better  part  o'  twa  pats  o'  porter. 

North.  James !  I  have  not  eat  a  morsel,  or  drank  a  drop,  since 
breakfast. 

Shepherd.  Then,  I've  been  confusioning  you  wi*  mysel.  A*  the 
time  that  I  was  sookin'  up  the  eisters  frae  out  o'  their  shells,  ilka 
ane  sappier  than  anither  in  its  shallow  pool  o'  caller  saut  sea-water, 
and  some  o'  them  takin'  a  stronger  sook  than  ithers  to  rug  them  out 
o'  their  cradles, — I  thocht  I  saw  you,  sir,  in  my  mind's  ee,  and  no 
by  my  bodily  organs,  it  would  appear,  doin'  the  same  to  a  nicety, 
only  dashing  on  mair  o'  the  pepper,  and  mixing  up  mustard  wi'  your 
vinegar,  as  if  gratifying  a  fawse  appeteet. 

North,  That  cursed  cholera 

Shepherd,  I  never,  at  ony  time  o'  the  year,  hae  recourse  to  the 
cruet  till  after  the  lang  hunder — and  in  September — after  four 
months  fast  frae  the  creturs — IpK^n  easily  devoor  them  by  theirsells 
just  in  their  ain  liccor,  on  till  anither  fifty — and  then,  to  be  sure, 
just  when  Tin  beginning  to  be  a  wee  stau'd,  1  apply  first  the  pepper 
to  a  squad,  and  then,  after  a  score  or  two  in  that  way,  some  dizzen 
and  a  half  wi'  vinegar,  and  finish  aff,  like  you,  wi'  a  wheen  to  the 
mustard,  till  the  brodd's  naething  but  shells. 

North.  The  cholera  has  left  me  so  weak,  that 

Shepherd,  I  dinna  ken  a  mair  perplexing  state  o'  mind  to  be  in 
than  to  be  swithering  about  a  farther  brodd  o*  eisters,  when  you've 
devoored  what  at  ae  moment  is  felt  to  be  sufficient,  and  anither 
moment  what  is  felt  to  be  very  insuflicient — feelin'  stau'd  this  mo- 
ment, and  that  moment  yawp  as  ever — noo  say  in'  into  yoursell  that 
you'll  order  in  the  toasted  cheese,  and  then  silently  swearin'  that 
you  maun  hae  anither  yokin'  at  the  beardies 

NorUi,  This  last  attack,  James,  has  reduced  me  much  ;  and  a  few 
more  like  it  will  deprive  the  world  of  a  man  whose  poor  abilities 
were  ever  devoted  to  her  ser 

Shepherd.  1  agree  wi'  ye,  sir,  in  a'  ye  say  about  the  diffeeculty  o' 
the  dilemma.  But  during  the  dubiety  and  the  swither,  in  comes 
honest  Mr,  Awmrose,  o'  his  ain  accord,  wi'  the  final  brodd,  aiida 
body  feels  himsell  to  have  been  a  great  sumph  for  Buspecking  ae 


Digitized  by 


Google 


TLATTKRY,  101 

single  moment  that  he  wasna  able  for  his  share  o'  the  oonehiding 
centenary  o'  noble  inventions.  There's  really  no  end  in  natur  to 
the  eat  in'  o'  eisters. 

North.  Really,  James,  your  infiensibility,  your  callonsness  to  my 
complaints,  painfully  affects  me,  and  forces  me  to  believe  that  friend- 
ship, like  love,  is  but  an  empty  name. 

Shepherd,  An  empty  name  !  It's  your  ain  faut  gin  it's  empty — 
but  you  wadna  surely  be  for  eatin'  the  verra  shells  ]  Oh !  Mr. 
North,  but  o'  a'  the  men  I  ever  knew,  you  are  the  most  distin<ruished 
by  natural  and  native  coortesy  and  politeness — by  what  Cicero  calls 
urbanity.  Tak  it — tak  it.  For  I  declare,  were  I  to  tak  it,  1  never 
could  forgi'e  mysell  a'  my  days.     Tak  it,  sir.     My  dear  sir,  tak  it. 

North,  What  do  you  mean,  James?  What  the  devil  can  you 
mean  ? 

Shepherd.  The  last  eister — the  mainners  eister — it's  but  a  wee 
ane,  or  it  badna  been  here.  There,  sir,  I've  douk'd  it  in  an  amal* 
gaination  o'  pepper,  vinegar,  and  mustard,  and  a  wee  drap  whisky* 
Open  your  mouth,  and  tak  it  aff  the  pint  o'  my  fork — that's  a  gude 
bairn. 

North,  I  have  been  very  ill,  my  dear  James. 

Shepherd,  Haud  your  tongue— nae  sic  thing.  Your  cheeks  are 
no  half  that  shrivelled  they  were  last  year;  and  there's  a  circle  o' 
y eloquent  blood  in  them  baith,  as  ruddy  as  Robin's  breast  Your 
lips  are  no  like  cherries — but  they  were  aye  rather  thin  and  color- 
less since  first  1  kent  you,  and  when  chirted  thegither — oh  I  mjui, 
but  they  have  a  sconifu',  and  savage,  and  cruel  expression,  that 
ought  seldom  to  be  on  a  fuce  o'  clay.  As  for  your  nen,  there's 
twenty  gude  year  o'  life  in  their  licht  yet.  But,  Lord  safe  us!— ^ 
dinnn,  I  beseech  you,  put  on  your  specs ;  for  when  you  cock  up 
your  chin,  and  lie  back  on  your  chair,  and  keep  fastenin'  your  lowhr 
een  upon  a  body  through  the  glasses,  it's  mair  than  mortal  man  can 
endure — you  look  sae  like  the  deevil  incarnate. 

North,  I  am  a  much-injured  man  in  the  estimation  of  the  world, 
James.  f(»r  I  am  gentle  as  a  sleeping  child. 

Sliepherd,  Come,  now — you're  wishin'  me  to  flatter  you — ^ye'rc 
despenxte  fond,  man,  o'  flattery. 

North.  I  admit-^confess^-glory  that  I  am  so.  It  it  impossible  to 
lay  it  on  too  thick.  All  that  an  author  has  to  do  to  secure  a  favor- 
able notice,  short  or  long,  in  Blackwood's  Magasine,  is,  to  call  it  in 
the  body  of  his  work,  or  even  in  a  foot-note,  '"'  that  matchless  mis- 
cellany," '*  that  exhaustless  fund  of  all  that  is  entertaining  and 
instructive,"  "  that  miracle  of  magazines,"  **  that  peerless  periodi- 
cal," ''  that  glory  of  Scotland,"  ''  that  wonder  of  the  world,"  and 
so  forth — while  of  ourself  personally,  let  him  merely  say,  "Chria- 
topher,  who,  with  the  wisdom  of  a  Socoates,  uMtet  Ihe  wU  of  an 


Digitized  by 


Google 


103  HOOIBB  A1IBB06IAK.B. 

Aristopbanes,'*  *'  North,  at  once  the  Bacon,  the  SwifV,  and  (he  Soott 
of  the  age,"  **  Christopher,  whose  universal  genius  and  achieve- 
ments, while  they  prove  the  possibility  of  the  existence  of  such  a 
character  as  the  Admirable  Crichton,  at  the  same  time  throw  that 
wonderful  person  for  ever  into  the  shade,"  and  let  him  be  the  most 
distinguished  dunce  extant— even  MacDermot  himself  on  Taste  and 
Tragedy-— and  his  brains  shall  be  extolled  to  the  skies,  above  moon 
and  stars. 

Shepherd,  What'n  avooal ! 

North,  Why,  James,  are  you  so  weak  as  ever  to  have  imagined 
for  a  moment  that  I  care  a  pin's  point  for  truth,  in  the  praise  or 
blame  bestowed  or  inflicted  on  any  mortal  creature  in  my  Magazine  1 

Shepherd,  What's  that  you  say  1  can  I  believe  my  lugs? 

North.  I  have  been  merely  amusing  myself  fur  a  few  years  back 
with  the  ffreat  gawky  world.  1  hate  and  despise  all  mankind — and 
hitherto  I  have  been  contented  with  laughing  at  them  all  in  my 
sleeve — pleasing  this  blockhead  only  to  pain  that — holding  up  John 
as  a  great  genius,  that  Tom  might  the  more  intensely  feel  himself 
to  be  a  dunce.  The  truth  is,  James,  that  I  am  a  misanthrope,  and 
have  a  liking  only  for  Cockneys. 

Shepherd.  The  chandaleer's  gaun  to  fa'  down  on  our  heads.  Eat 
your  words,  sir,  eat  your  words,  or 

North.  You  would  not  have  me  lie,  during  the  only  time  that,  for 
many  years,  I  have  felt  a  desire  t«»  speak  the  UruUit  The  only  dis- 
tinctions I  acknowledge  are  intellectual  ones.  Moral  distinctions 
there  are  none ;  and  as  for  religion,  it  is  all  a 

Shepherd,  {standing  vp.)  And  it*s  on  principles  like  these^ 
boldly  and  unblushingly  avoo*d  here — in  Mr.  Awmrose's  paper- 

Sarlor,  at  the  conclusion  o'  the  sixth  brodd,  on  the  evening  o' 
londay  the  22d  of  September,  Anno  Dominie  aughteen  hunder 
and  twenty-aught,  within  twa  hours  o'  midnicht — that  you,  sir, 
have  been  yeditin'  a  maggasin  that  has  gone  out  to  the  uttermost 
comers  o'  the  yerlh,  wherever  civilization  or  uncivilization  is  known, 
deludin'  and  distracktin'  men  and  women  folk'  till  it*s  impossible 
for  them  to  ken  their  right  hand  frae  their  lefW- or  whether  they're 
standin'  on  their  heels  or  their  heads-— or  what  byuk  ought  to  bo 
perused,  and  what  byuk  puttin'  in  til  the  bottom  o'  pie-dishes,  and 
trunks— or  what  awthor  hissed,  or  what  awthor  hurraa'd— or  what's 
flummery  and  what's  philo8ophy--or  what's  rant  and  what's  reli- 
gion—or what's  monopoly  and  what's  free  tredd— or  wha's  Poets  or 
wha's  but  Pats— or  whether  it's  best  to  be  drunk,  or  whether  it's 
best  to  be  sober  a'  houra  o'  the  day  and  nicht— or  if  there  should  be 
rich  church  establishments  as  in  England,  or  poor  kirk  ones  as  in 
Scotland— or  whether  the  Bishop  o'  Canterbury,  wi'  twenty  thoU" 
aan'  a^jear,  it  mair  like  a  primitive  ChriatiaD  than  the  minister  o' 


Digitized  by 


Google 


KBOOHOILIATIQV.  108 

Kirkintnlloch  wi'  twa  hunder  and  fiflj— or  if  folk  should  aye  be 
readiii'  sermons  or  fishin'  for  sawmon— <ir  if  it's  best  to  marry  or 
best  to  bum— or  if  the  national  debt  hangs  like  a  niillstone  round 
the  neck  o*  the  kintra  or  like  a  chain  o'  blae-berries — or  If  the 
Millennium  be  really  close  at  haun*— or  the  present  polar  system  be 
calculated  to  last  to  a'  eternity-— or  whether  the  people  should  be 
edicated  up  to  the  highest  pitch  o'  perfection,  or  preferably  to  be  all 
like  trotters  through  the  Bog  o*  Allen— or  whether  the  government 
should  subsedeeze  foreign  powers,  or  spend  a*  its  siller  on  oursells 
— or  whether  the  blacks  and  the  Catholics  should  be  cmancipnwted 
or  no  afore  the  demolition  o'  priests  and  obis — t>r  whether — God 
forgie  us  baith  for  the  hypothesis, — man  has  a  mortal  or  an  immortal 
sowl — be  a  phoenix— or  an  eister  ! 

North,  Precisely  tK),  James.  You  have  drawn  my  real  character 
to  a  hair — and  the  character,  too,  of  the  baleful  work  over  which  I 
have  the  honor  and  happiness  to  preside. 

Shepherd.  I  canna  sit  here  ony  langer — and  hear  a'  things,  visible 
and  invisible,  turned  tapsy-turvy  and  tspselteery — Vm  a^— Pni  aff 
— ower  to  the  Auld  Toon,  to  tak'  toddy  wi'  Christians — and  no  wi* 
an  Atheist,  that  would  involve  the  warld  in  evendown  Pyrrhonism 
— and  disorder,  if  he  could,  the  verra  ooorses  o*  the  seven  planets, 
and  set  the  central  sun  adrift  through  the  sky.  Gude  nicht  to  ye— 
sir — gude  nicht.  Ye  are  the  maist  dangerous  o*  a'  reprobates,  for 
your  private  conduct  and  character  is  that  o'  an  angel,  but  your 

Sublic  that  o*  a  fiend  ;  and  the  honey  o'  your  domestic  practice  can 
e  nae  antidote  to  the  pushion  o*  your  foreign  principles.     l*m  afT 
—I'm  aff. 

Enter  Mb.  Ambross  with  a  ffowtowdie,  and  King  Pqnn  with  Potc^ 
toes  and  Ham. 

Shepherd,  {in  continvation.)  What  brought  ye  intil  the  room  the 
Doo,  Mr.  Awmrose,  wi'  a  temptation  sic  as  that — nae  flesh  and  bluid 
can  resist?  Awa'  back  to  the  kitchen  wi'  the  savory  sacrifice— or 
dash  down  the  towdie  afore  the  Bagman  in  the  wee  closet-room 
ayont  the  wainstcoat.  What*n  a  bonnie,  brown,  basted,  buttery, 
iley,  and  dreepin'  breast  o'  a  roasted  earock  !  O'  a'  the  smells  I 
ever  &n',  that  is  the  maist  insupportably  seducin'  to  the  palate.  It 
has  gien  me  the  waterbrash.  Weel,  weel,  Mr.  North,  since  you 
insist  ont,  we'll  resume  the  argument  after  supper. 

North.  Good  night,  James.  Ambrose,  deposit  the  towdie,  and 
show  Mr.  Htigg  down  stairs.     Lord  bless  you,  James — good  night. 

Shepherd^  (reeuming  hie  teat)  Dinna  say  anither  word,  sir.  Nae 
farther  ap(»l«»gy.  1  forgie  you.  Ye  wasna  serious.  Come,  be 
cheerful — Vm  soonpacified.  O  man,  but  ye  cut  up  a  fool  wi'  incre* 
dible  dexterity !    liiere — a  I^  and  a  wing  to  yoorsell— and  a  leg 


Digitized  by 


Google 


104  NOCTBS   AMBBOSIAN^. 

and  a  wing  to  me — then  to  you  the  breast — for  I  ken  ye  like  fh^ 
breast---«iid  to  me  the  back — and  I  dinna  dislike  the  back, — and 
then  howtowdie  !  *' Farewell!  a  long  farewell  to  all  thy  fatness." 
O,  sir !  but  the  taties  are  gran'  the  year !  How  ony  Christian 
creature  can  prefer  waxiea  to  mealies  I  never  could  conjecture. 
Another  spoonfu'  or  twa  o^  the  gravy.  Haud— haud — what  a 
deluge! 

North.  This,  I  trust,  my  dear  Shepherd,  will  be  a  good  season  for 
the  p<K>r. 

Shepherd.  Nae  fear  o'  that,  sir.  Has  she  ony  ^gs?  But  I  for- 
got— the  hens  are  r.o  lay  in'  the  noo.  They're  mootin*.  Faith,  con- 
sidering ye  didna  eat  mony  o'  the  eisters,  your  appeteet's  no  amiss, 
sir.  Pray,  sir,  will  ye  tell  me  gin  there  be  ony  diiference  atween 
this  newfangled  oriental  disease  they  ca*  the  Cholera,  and  the 
gude  au Id- fashioned  Scottish  complent,  the  Colic! 

North,  Mr.  Ambrose,  give  Mr.  Hogg  some  bread. 

Shepherd,  Ye  needna  fash — Mr.  Awmrose.  I  tak  bread  at  break- 
fast, and  the  afternoons,  but  never  either  at  dinner  or  sooper — but 
I'm  thinkin'  a  bottle  apiece  o'  Berwick's  or  Giles's  strong  yill  '11 
taste  gaen  well  after  the  porter.  Tak  tent  in  drawin'  the  cork,  that 
the  yili  doesna  spoot  up  to  the  ceilin'.  Bottled  yill's  aye  up  in  the 
stirrups.  The  moment  you  pu'  out  the  cork — in  wi*  your  thoomb 
— and  then  decant  baith  bottles  into  the  dolphin. 

North,  Above  an  average  crop,  1  suppose,  James. 

Shepherd.  Do  you  contribute  to  it,  sirl 

North.  To  what  1 

Shepherd,  Mr.  Blackwood's  New  Agricultural  Journal  ♦  to  bo 
sure.  There's  a  gran'  open  in'  the  noo  for  sic  a  wark — and  he's 
gotten  a  capital  editor.  The  subject  is  endless  as  the  earth  itsel 
and  its  productions. 

North.  I  am  a  Monogamist 

Shepherd.  And  what's  that — may  I  ask  t 

North,  A  man  with  one  wife.     Her  name  is  Maga. 

Shepherd,  Ay — ye  do  richt  in  stickin'  to  her.  Were  the  ane  o* 
ye  to  die,  the  lilher  would  soon  follow.  You  are  lovely  in  your 
lives,  and  in  your  deaths  you  will  not  be  divided. 

North.  She  sometimes  has  her  sulks  and  her  tantrums — but  in 
spite  of  them  all,  our  wedded  life  has  been  all  one  honeymoon. 

Shepherd.  And  then  what  a  breedy  body !  A  new  birth  every 
month — and  sometimes  twins.     Is  she  never  to  hae  dune  ? 

North.  Dropping  all  figure  or  metaphor, — what  do  you  think  of 
Maga,  the  Matron  f 

Shepherd.  She  shud  hae  mair  leeteratur — roair  oreetieshism — 
mair  accounts  o'  books  o'  voyages  and  travels— -mair  overhawlin'  o 

*  Edinburgh  Q,aart«rl7  Journal  of  Agrioaltore.— BL 


Digitized  by 


Google 


1HB  SOPPSB.  106 

the  press — mair  phflosophie  estimstes  e'  the  genius  o*  the  age,  in 
Poetry,  Eloquence,  Paintin',  Music,  the  PJaj house,  and  the  rest  of 
the  Fine  Arts— *  mair  topography  and  antiquities — aiblins,  mair 
divinity,  and  I  hear  folk  that  canna  read  Latin  and  Greek  cryin'  out 
for  the  Classics,  as  they  ca*  them, — Popular  Essays  on  the  Classics, 
from  Homer  down  to  modem  Romaics  inclusive — and  I  can  weel 
believe  that  the  Greeks  and  Romans  were  gran*  writers,  for  they 
were  gran'  fechters,  and  the  twa  aye  gang  thegither — the  Lyre  and 
the  L^ce,  the  Pen  and  the  Swurd.  Noo,  tell  me,  sir,  and  tell  me 
truly,  was  Theocratus  really  as  gude  a  pastoral  poet  as  me,  or 
Robert  Burns,.or  Allan  Ramsay,  or  Allan  Cunningham  f 

North,  He  was,  James,  your  equal  in  truth,  simplicity,  nature ; 
more  than  your  equal  in  an  occasional  rustic  grace  without  a  name 
--superior  fiir  in  the  power  and  magic  of  a  language  light  as  air, 
dense  as  clouds,  cheerful  as  the  daedal  earth,  magnificent  as  the 
much-and-many-sounding  sea ; — but  he  was,  in  variety  of  feelings 
and  fancies,  in  depth  and  force  of  passion,  in  creation  of  character, 
in  profusion  of  imagery,  in  invention  of  incident,  fiir  inferior  to  Yov 
Glorious  Four.    He  was  indeed. 

Shepherd,  I'm  glad  to  hear  that,  sir,-— for  the  honor  o'  auld  Scot- 
land.    She  too,  then,  is  an  Arcawdia. 

..  North,  Let  Giencorse-Buru,  murmuring  from  Habbie's  Howe 
through  Compensation  Pond,  down  into  the  £sk,  and  then  to  the 
sea, — ^let  the  Ayr  and  Doune,  cheering  Coiia  with  immortal  music, 
•^let  the  dewy,  no  more  the  dowie  holms  of  Yarrow, — ^let  the  Nith, 
from  Closeburn  to  Crifiel,  attest  the  truth, — let  the 

Shepherd.  O  man !  but  the  inside  o'  the  back  is  sappy— ^sappy. 
What  wi'  your  sauce  and  it's  ain  gravy,  this  is  the  maist  delicious 
tewdie  that  ever  foraged  afore  the  fanners.  Noo  for  the  yill.  I 
fancy  there's  nae  sin  in  dichtin  ain's  gab  wi'  the  table-doth, — for 
I've  forgotten  my  pocket-handkerchief  in  my  big  coaL 

Nordi.  Is  it  not  singular,  James,  that,  though  we  two  have  each 
our  own  peculiar  and  characteristic  style  of  eating,  we  have  finished 
equal  quantities  in  equal  times  ? 

Shepherd.  I  was  dune  lang  afore  you,  sir, — and  no  to  hurry  you, 
have  been  sookin'  awa,  lor  ten  minutes,  in  amang  the  trellice-wark 
o'  the  spine,  lang  afler  the  banes  o'  the  back  were  as  dry  as  bom. 

North.  And  I,  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  have  been  dallying  with 
the  merry-thought. 

Shepherd.  I  aye  kent,  though  we  sometimes  seem  to  differ  in 
opinion,  that  we  are  congenial  speerits.  For  gudesake,  dinna  drain 
the  dolphin! 

North.  A  mixture  of  Giles's  and  Berwick* — nectar  worthy  an  am- 
brosial feast ! 

*  A]«  tad  porUr  nuxad  ia  •qual  qvaatitiM,  whioh  thinty  mortal*  do  call  km^f-tmd-ka^.—H. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


106  NOCriEB  AMBB06IANJE. 

Shepherd.  It  gars  my  een  water,  and  my  lugs  crack.  Nbo  for 
the  toasted  cheese. 

(Enter  Taffy  with  two  Welch  rabbits^  and  exit.) 

Shepherd,  {looking  after  Am.)  What  droich  o'  a  new  cretur's 
that? 

North.  A  Welchman.  Desirous  of  seeing  the  world,  he  worked 
his  passage  from  Fenrhyn  to  Liverpool,  on  board  a  slater — thence 
played  the  part  of  shoe-black  in  a  steamer  to  Greenock  and  Glas- 
gow— from  JPort  Dundas  in  the  West  country  to  Port  Hopetoun  in 
the  East,  he  ballad-sang  himself  in  an  unknown  tongue  by  one  of 
the  canal  coal-boats — and  Mr.  Ambrose,  who  has  a  fine  natural  coup 
d'cnly  picked  him  up  one  morning  in  the  Vegetable  Market,  munch- 
ing a  carrot,  without  hat,  shoes  or  stockings — but  a  lively,  active, 
and  intelligent-looking  lad  as  you  can  see — and  in  less  than  a  month 
he  was  the  best  waiter  in  Edinburgh. 

Shepherd.  What's  the  name  o'  the  creture  1 

North.  On  account  of  a  slight  limp  in  his  left  1^,  which  pro- 
motes rather  than  impedes  his  activity,  we  call  him — Sir  David 
Gam. 

Shepherd,  I  hae  some  thochts  o'  keepin'  a  flunkey  — • 

North,  Don't,  James.     A  lassie's  far  better  in  every  respect 

Shepherd.  But  then,  sir,  a  flunkey  in  the  Forest  livery  wad  look 
sae  genteel  and  fashionable 

North,  What  is  the  Forest  livery  ? 

Shepherd,  Bricht  bottle  green,  sir,  lined  and  turned  up  at  the 
tails,  lappelles,  cuffs,  and  collar,  wi'  oker,  barred  on  the  breast, 
when  the  single-breasted  coat's  buttoned,  wi*  zig-zag  stripes  o' 
twisted  gold  lace — and  the  buttons  o'  yellow  brass,  few  in  number, 
but  about  as  big's  a  tea-cup  cheena  saucer.  That's  the  Forest 
livery,  sir. 

North,  The  nether  integuments  1 

Shepherd,  What!  the  breeks?  There's  nae  maitter  about  the 
breeks — but,  generally  speakin',  nankeens,  wi'  blue  thread  stock- 
ings and  pumps,  in  summer — and  in  winter,  corduroys,  wi'  gray 
rig  and  fur  worsteds,  and  quarter  boots. 

North,  I  do  not  believe  Sir  David  would  leave  Picardy  for  any 
place  in  the  world ;  besides,  James,  it  would  not  be  handsome  to 
tempt  him  away  from  Mr.  Ambrose,  by  the  offer  of  high  wages  — 

Shepherd,  High  wages,  indeed  !  The  deevil  a  wage  he  should 
have  frae  me.  A  shute  o'  livery — and  anither  of  wark  claes — a 
ride  in  the  gig  thrice  a  week — that's  to  say,  in  the  box  ahint — and 
on  the  hill  the  ither  three  days  wi'  the  grews — as  muckle's  he  could 
eat  and  drink  o'  meat,  vegetables,  and  milkness,  cheese  included— 
plenty  o'  fun  in  the  kitchen — ^and  what  mair  oould  the  heart  o'  the 
bit  young  Auncient  Briton  desire  ? 


Digitized  by 


Google 


THB  ALBUM  KT7IBA170E.  107 

North.  I  have  no  doubt  that  Sir  David  is  laying  up  golden  store, 
with  a  view  to  purchase  an  estate  in  his  native  country.  Like  us 
Scotchmen,  the  Welch  are  a  proud  and  provident  race.  He  b  a 
boy  of  birth. 

Shepherd,  There  noo,  Mr.  North,  there's  the  whole  Principawlity 
o'  Wales  lying  untouched  for  articles  in  the  Magazine.  What  for 
is't  ca'd  the  Principawlity  1  What  like  is't  by  our  ain  Highlands  f 
Is  the  language  the  same's  the  Erse?  What  mean  ye  by  the  Welch 
Triads?  Did  Cadwaller,  Urien,  Lewellen,  Modred,  and  Hoel, 
flourish  afore  or  after  Ossian  ?  And  aboon  a',  what  is  or  can  be  in 
a'  this  world,  what,  for  mercy's  sake,  tell  me,  can  be  the  meanui'  o' 
the  Cymrodion  at  Estoffud  1 

North,  All  in  good  time,  James — but  I  have  hitherto  been  very 
unlucky  about  Wales.  The  only  literary  Welshman  of  great  abili- 
ties and  erudition,  I  know,  has  been  too  busily  occupied  with  the 
important  functions  of  his  own  useful  and  honorable  profession,  to 
become  a  contributor  to  Maga* — and  these  idle  dc^  of  Oxonians  and 
Can  tabs 

Shepherd.    What !  Mr.  Sheward  and  Mr.  Buller  ? 

North.  No — ^no — no.  Batches  of  boys  from  Oxford  and  Cam- 
bridge, about  to  become  Bachelors  of  Arts,  settle  down  in  Bangor 
and  Llanwryst,  and  other  pretty  Welsh  villages,  getting  themselves 
crammed  by  tutors  with  Greek  and  cube  roots  for  wranglers,  and 
senior  optimes,  and  first  classmen,  and  over  and  over  again,  during 
the  last  seven  years,  have  the  vagabonds  promised  to  send  me  lots 
of  leading  articles 

Shepherd.  Never  trust  till  a  contributor  forty  miles  aff  frae  Enibro'. 
Besides,  young  lawds  like  them,  though  clever  chiels,  nae  doubt, 
carryin'  aff  at  college  gold  medals  for  Greek  and  Latin  epigrams, 
and  English  poems  on  the  Druids,  and  so  on,  canna  write  articles 
gud  for  muckle — they  canna  indeed — and  for  years  to  come  should 
just  confine  themsel's  to  All  bums. 

North.  Albums !  James — these  compendiums  of  wit  and  wisdom 
have  become  the  greatest  nuisances  of  all  civilized  society 

Shepherd.  Tuts,  man — what  ails  ye  at  All  bums  ? 

North.  They  have  broken  that  confidence  between  man  and 
woman,  which,  in  our  young  day,  used  to  form  the  delight  of  an 
acquaintance  with  an  amiable  and  accomplished  female.  In  those 
happy  times,  how  oflen  have  we  sat  in  a  bright  circle  of  the  fair 
and  young,  and  talked,  and  laughed,  in  the  gaiety  of  our  careless 
hearts,  without  fear  or  apprehension !  But  now  we  are  afraid,  in 
the  presence  of  ladies,  to  give  utterance  to  any  thing  beyond  a  re* 
mark  upon  the  weather.     It  is  long  since  we  have  drilled  ourselves 

*  Th«  Rrr.  Archdencon  Williams,  then  IlMtor  of  th«  Hish  School  of  Edinhmg k    Ho  raad 
Am  fiuionl  awrieo  oror  the  nm&int  of  Sooit,  la  Dryhorg h  Aoboj.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


108  irocns  jjCBBOiiAifrjB. 

to  attribute  smiles  and  whispers,  and  even  squeezes  of  the  hand,  to 
their  true  source.  We  see  an  album  lurking  in  every  dimple  of  a 
young  maiden's  cheek,  and  a  large  folio  common-place  book,  repos- 
ing its  alexandrine  length  in  every  curve  of  a  dowager's  double 
chin. 

Shepherd,  Tuts,  man  !     What  ails  ye  at  Allbums  t 

North.  No  age  is  free  from  the  infection.  We  go  to  a  house  in 
the  country,  where  there  are  three  unmarried  daughters,  two  aunts, 
and  a  grandmother.  Complain  not  of  a  lack  of  employment  on  a 
rainy  morning,  in  such  a  domicile  and  establishment  as  this.  You 
may  depend  upon  it,  that  the  first  patter  of  rain  upon  the  window 
is  the  signal  for  all  the  vellum  and  morocoo  bound  scrap-books  to 
make  a  simultaneous  rush  upon  the  table.  Forth  comes  the  grand- 
mother,  and  pushes  an  old  dingy-colored  volume  into  your  hands, 
and  pointing  out  a  spare  leaf,  between  a  receipt  for  curing  corns, 
and  a  mixture  for  the  hooping-cough,  she  begs  you  to  fill  it  up— with 
any  thing  you  please. 

Shepherd.  Weel,  weel,  man — why  canna  you  obleege  the  auld 
bodyl 

North,  What  right  has  an  old  woman,  with  silver  spectacles  on 
her  long  thin  nose,  to  enlist  any  man  among  the  awkward  squad 
which  compose  her  muster-roll  1  Who  can  derive  inspiration  from 
the  bony  hand,  which  is  coaxingly  laid  on  your  shoulder,  and  trem- 
bles, not  from  agitation  or  love,  but  merely  from  the  last  attack  of 
the  rheumatism  ? 

Shepherd,  But  young  leddies  hae  their  Allbums,  too,  as  weel's 
auld  anes. 

North,  And  even  the  young  ladies,  James,  presume  too  much 
upon  their  power.  Is  there  no  way  of  getting  into  their  books,  but 
by  writing  in  their  albums  ?  Are  we  to  pay  for  smiles  at  the  rate 
of  so  many  lines  a  dimple  ?  If  the  fiiir  creatures  are  anxious  to 
show  they  can  read,  let  them  discover  it  by  the  tenor  of  their  con- 
versation, and  not  by  large  folios  of  quotations  from  books  which 
every  body  knows;  or  if  they  are  anxious  to  show  that  they  can 
write,  we  can  tell  them  they  are  very  wrong  in  having  any  such 
wish.  I  will  put  it  to  any  man — are  not  the  pleasantest  women  of 
his  acquaintance  those  to  whose  handwriting  he  is  the  greatest 
stranger  f  Did  thev  not  think  their  adored  enslaver,  who  at  one 
time  was  considered,  when  they  were  musing  on  her  charms,  be- 
neath some  giant  tree,  within  the  forest  shade,  '^  too  fair  to  worship, 
too  divine  to  love,"— did  they  not  think  her  a  little  less  divine, 
without  being  a  bit  more  lovable,  when  they  pored  over,  in  her 
autograph,  a  long  and  foolish  extract  from  some  dunderhead's 
poems,  with  the  points  all  wrong  placed,  and  many  of  the  words 
misspelt? 


Digitized  by 


Google 


Auami  wmrrofQ.  109 

.  Shepherd,  Neither  points  nor  spelliB'  's  o'  the  smallest  consor 
quence  in  a  copy  o*  verses. 

North,  Think  of  the  fiimous  lovers  of  antiquity,  James.  Do  you 
think  Thisbe  kept  a  scrap-book,  or  that  Pyramus  slipped  ^*  Line.s  on 
Thisbe's  Cat"  through  the  celebrated  hole-in-the-wuU?  No  such 
thing.  If  he  had,  there  would  have  been  as  little  poetry  in  his  love 
as  in  his  verses.  No  man  could  have  had  the  insolence,  not  even  a 
Cockney  poetaster,  to  kill  himself  for  love,  after  having  scribbled 
namby-pambys  in  a  pale-blue  gilt-edged  album. 

Shipherd,  Faith — that's  rather  a  lauchable  idea. 

North,  In  every  point  of  view,  scrap-hooks  are  the  death  of  love. 
Many  a  very  sensible  man  can  **  whisper  soft  nonsense  in  a  lady's 
ear,"  when  all  the  circumstances  of  the  scene  are  congenial.  We 
ourselves  have  frequently  descended  to  make  ourselves  merely  the 
most  agreeable  man  in  the  world,  till  we  unfortunately  discovered 
that  the  blockheads  who  could  not  comprehend  us  when  we  were 
serious,  were  still  farther  from  understanding  the  ineffable  beauty 
of  our  nonsense ;  so  that  in  bcith  cases  we  were  the  sufferers.  They 
took  our  elegant  badinage  for  our  sober  and  settled  opinions,  and 
laughed  in  the  most  accommodating  manner  when  we  delivered  our 
real  and  most  matured  sentiments. 

Sftepherd,  Ye've  run  aff  the  coorse,  sir. 

North.  Let  no  man  despise  the  opinion  of  blockheads.  In  every 
society  they  form  the  majority,  and  are  generally  the  most  p(»wer- 
ful  and  influential.  Laugh  not  at  their  laborious  disquisitions  on  the 
weather,  and  their  wonderful  discoveries  of  things  which  every  one 
knows,  if  you  offend  a  fool,  you  turn  the  whole  muddy  port  of  hia 
composition  into  rancid  vinegar,  and  not  all  the  efforts  you  can 
make  will  abate  its  sourness. 

Shepherd,  What  the  deevil  are  you  drivin'  afler  noo  ?  You're 
just  like  a  horse,  sir,  that  aye  gangs  fastest  when  ye  turn  him  aff 
the  main  n»ad. 

North,  Nobody  can  write  with  any  thing  like  ease  in  a  scrap- 
book.  It  is  much  more  widely  published,  so  far  as  you  are  con- 
cerned, than  if  it  issued  from  Albemarle  Street,*  or  Black W(H>d. 
Every  person  who  sees  your  contributions,  knows  something  or 
other  about  yourself  Whereas  you  might  publish  twenty  volumes, 
and  not  one  of  your  immediate  neighbors,  except,  perhaps,  a  literary 
trunk-maker,  know  any  thing  of  the  matter. 

Shepherd.  That's  a  fuck. 

North,  If  you  write  a  flaming  panegyric  on  any  of  those  fair 
tormentors,  you  are  set  down  as  violently  in  love ;  and  if  you  hap- 
pen to  be  very  warm  in  your  praises,  you  will  most  probably  be 

*  By  JokM  If  «n»7,  ik*  Lomdoa  pnblidMr.— If . 


Digitized  by 


Google 


110  KOCrrEB  A1IBB06IAK.B. 

prosecuted  for  a  "  breach  of  promise  of  marriage,"  or  shot  dead, 
or  lamed  for  life,  by  a  brother  as  tall  and  fierce  as  Odoherty. 

Shepherd.  I  wad  see  him  damnM  first,  afore  1  wad  fecht  him  in 
sic  a  quarrel. 

North.,  In  summer,  when  the  woods  are  green,  how  delightful  to 
wander  forth,  James,  with  some  young  blue-eyed  maiden,  far  into 
the  forest;  to  see  the  sun  glinting  on  the  moistened  leaves,  while 
the  cushat  is  murmuring  its  song  of  happiness,  which  seems  like  the 
indistinct  hum  of  a  heart  too  filled  with  bliss  to  express  it  in  intel- 
ligible words ! 

Shepherd.  Ay — noo  that  you're  aff  on  that  topic,  I  may  ca'  for 
my  nightcap.     Auld  men  never  tire  o'  taukin'  o*  love. 

North,  Who  in  such  a  situation  as  this  has  not  felt,  while  his 
affections  spread  wide  over  the  whole  human  kind,  that  there  arose 
a  tenderer  and  warmer  friendship  for  the  pure  and  lovely  being  who 
was  gazing  so  placidly  on  the  clear  blue  heavens ;  or  dung  closer  to  his 
side  as  the  roaring  of  the  distant  linn,  the  sough  of  the  wavering 
branches,  the  cawing  of  rooks,  the  singing  of  the  birds,  and  the 
mighty  hum  which  pervades  a  vast  and  almost  breathing  forest,  im- 
pressed a  feeling  of  awe  upon  her  innocent  heart ! 

Shepherd,  Very  innicent — ^nae  doubt..  They're  a'  innicent  wi' 
their  tales,  and  yours. 

North.  In  a  scene  like  this,  if  one  speaks  at  all,  it  is  not  in  the 
same  style  or  manner  as  in  a  **gay  and  lighted  hall."  There  is  a 
humbling  and  yet  an  awakening  thrill  rushes  upon  the  heart,  which 
might  well  be  mistaken  for  religion,  save  that  its  influence  is  so 
transitory  — 

Shepherd.  Say  rather  idolatry^-eemage-worship. 

North,  And  who,  in  such  a  situation,  as  he  gazed  with  soflened 
and  chastened  kindness  on  the  pale  cheek  of  his  beautiful  compa- 
nion, as  he  watched  her  eye  wander  with  a  wild  yet  admiring  ex- 
pression from  the  mighty  oak  that  casts  its  un wieldly  arms  over 
the  yawning  gulf,  where  far  down,  you  knew  by  the  noise,  a  river 
was  struggling  in  its  narrow  bed,  as  the  lion  roars  and  dashes  his 
mighty  strength  against  his  cage, — who  would  not  take  her  by  the 
waist,  small  and  delicate  as  the  waist  may  be,  and  chuck  her  half 
way  over  the  brae,  if  she  turned  to  you,  and  said,  **  How  pretty  ! 
—  lou  must  write  something  on  this,  in  my  scrap-book." 

Shepherd.  Haw — haw — haw — haw  ! — that's  really  very  enter- 
teenen\ 

North,  It  is  upwards  of  fifteen  years  since  we  last  contributed  to 
an  album ;  and  as  in  fifteen  years  we  have  seen  the  advantages  of 
refusing  to  do  so,  we  do  not  expect  we  ever  shall  do  so  again.  We 
are  not  excited  to  this  by  a  selfish  wish  for  ease.  We  would  do 
any  thing  in  the  world  to  please  the  whole  sex — ^from  the  plainest 


Digitized  by 


Google 


DELI0BT8  OF  DTTLNE88.  Ill 

and  least  angelic  damsel  that  ever  mended  stockings,  and  made  ex- 
tracts from  Nourse's  Cookery,  to  the  bright  and  fascinating  maid 
that  knitted  silk-purses,  and  wept  over  Medora  and  Gertrude,  be- 
tween .the  intervals  of  painting  &ns  and  thumping  a  grand  piano. 
But  the  surest  way  to  please  them  all,  is  to  contribute  to  none.  If 
you  write  no  method  of  pickling  onions  for  Joan,  you  write  no  son- 
net to  Anna  Matilda. 

Shepherd.  Change  the  subject,  sir — I  hae  often  observed  that  the 
better  a  man  speaks  on  ony  topic,  the  sooner  you  weary  o't^  "Do 
you  ken  then  I  rather  effeck  the  company  o'  blockheads } 

North,  O  the  delights  of  dulness !  real,  open,  downright,  ac- 
knowledged stupidity  ;  where  the  idiot  sits  down  on  the  quietest 
edge  of  Uie  sofa,  and  has  his  great  gray  lightless  eyes  as  entirely 
fixed  on  vacancy,  as  if  the  vision  tended  backwards  into  his  own 
skull ;  where  no  remark  is  expected  from  him  on  any  subject,  how- 
ever simple,  and  where,  if  he  happens  by  accident  to  say  something 
that  has  a  glimmering  of  sense,  it  is  treasured  up  as  a  wonder,  while 
all  your  own  witticisms  are  considered  common-place. 

Shepherd,  That's  no  the  thing  in't  1  like— but  — 

North,  In  a  party  composed  eniirely  of  gentlemen — how  placid 
his  countenance,  while  all  the  others  are  disputing  !  How  calmly 
his  eye  rests  on  his  smoking  trencher,  while  others  are  engaged  in 
literary,  legal,  or  philosophical  discussions!  What  does  he  care 
whether  the  Catholics  obtain  their  claims,  and  hang  the  Archbishop 
of  Canterbury,  with  the  string  of  his  own  apron  !  What  does  he 
care  about  Tests  and  Corporations,*  Free  Trades,  Navarinos,  and 
Don  Miguels  I 

Shepherd,  Wunna  ye  let  a  body  speak  f 

North,  Then  how  different  from  this  calm  placidity  of  emptiness 
is  the  noisy,  restless  sort  of  inanity,  which  distinguishes  another 
dass  of  fools !  In  them  the  eye  is  perpetually  wandering ;  they 
smirk,  giggle,  and  look  as  wise  when  a  sensible  man  is  speaking, 
as  if  they  tried  to  persuade  people  they  understood  him.  But  all 
in  vain.  Look  at  that  little  man  with  the  brown  coat ;  see  how  he 
smiles  with  the  same  idiotical  simper,  whatever  is  the  subject  of 
conversation  ;  hear  how  he  interrupts,  questions,  doubts,  and  finally, 
squeaks  so  loud  in  his  reply,  that  he  wakens  all  the  children  in  the 
nursery  up  stairs,  whose  squalling  rouses  the  lap-dog,  whose  yelp- 
ing, when  you  kick  it,  produces  frowns  from  your  amiable  hostess ; 
and  all  through  that  empty-pated  blockhead  ;  you  walk  home  with 
your  head  throbbing  as  if  it  would  burst,  and,  moreover,  with  the 
reputation  among  all  your  friends  of  a  hardhearted  monster,  who 
kicked  poor  Brush,  and  almost  broke  its  ribs  — 

*  The  T«t  ud  Corpontiom  Aoi  was  i«pMl«d  ia  Um  PwlUm^atarj  S««aoa  of  1896.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


112  HOCrSfl  AKBBOSIASrA 

Skspherd.  WuU  ye  no  alloo  a  body  to  edge  in  a  single  eeateiiee, 
•ir? 

North,  But  they  are  more  intolerable  even  than  that  They  wiU 
interrupt  you  in  ibe  mout  interesting  ieU-a-teies-^wWi  bounce  into  a 
room  ju8t  when  you  are  popping  the  question^  and  astonish  the  fal- 
tering damsel,  ^ho  is  blushing  at  your  side,  by  coroplimentB  on  the 
beauty  of  her  complexion,  all  the  time  you  are  anxious  U>  put  the 
insignificant  coxcombs  up  the  chimney. 

Shepherd.  Mr.  North,  1  say,  wuii  ye  no  alloo  a  body  to  pit  in  a 
sin|rle  Msntence? 

North,  Puppies  of  this  kind  can  Bometimes  sing,  and  woe  betide 
their  hearers!  They  can  dance,  play  tricks  with  cards,  and  somei. 
times  even  sew.  They  are  sent  messages,  they  are  despised  by  the 
men,  they  are  laughed  at  by  the  women,  and  every  body  at  last 
agrees,  that  a  noisy  fool  ih  not  half  so  ogreeable  as  a  quiet  one. 

Shepherd.  1  wush  you  was  a  wee  nmir  quiet  yoursell — ^you're 
cea»in'  to  be  y eloquent,  and  beeomin'  loquawcious. 

North,  We  have  no  besiution  in  saying,  that  a  fool  who  knows 
himself  to  be  one,  and  holds  his  tongue,  is  one  of  the  most  delight- 
ful and  enviable  men  in  the  world. 

Shepherd,  Whisht!  whisht! — What's  the  great  Reviews  about, 
Mr.  North  1 

North,  Our  excellent  friend,  Dr.  Brewster,*  has  written  a  very 
good  and  scientific  paper,  James,  upon  the  recent  history  of  astro* 
nomy,  for  the  lust  Quarterly. 

Sheplierd.  I  dinna  doubt  it— the  Doctor's  a  real  clever  man* 

North.  In  this  article  the  Doctor  informs  us  of  many  things  of 
which  we,  in  our  astronomical  ignorance,  had  no  conception,  i^ch 
as,  that  ourselves,  the  3un>  and  Venus,  and  Mercurius,  and  the 
rest,  are  but  a  nebula  — ^ 

Shepherd.  A  nebula! — What's  a  nebula? 

North,  Never  mind.  That  we  are  posting  off,  all  of  us  in  oom* 
pany,  at  some  certain  rate  an  hour,  to  bait  at  the  sign  of  Hercules ; 
that  stars,  which  we  simply  had  imagined  to  be  like  the  stars  in  the 
back  soene  of  a  play,  MttUionary,  (excuse  the  pun — it  is  in  Joe  Mil* 
ler,)  were  moving  about  as  merrily  as  mites  in  cheese — and  that  a 
great  many,  which  we  considered  lo  be  in  a  state  of  single  blessed- 
ness, were  in  reality  as  double  as  Lucifer — the  star  of  the  morning 
^-has  <»ccasionally  appeared  to  our  matin  optics,  as  they  saluted  the 
dawning  day,  dimmed  somewhat,  from  intense  application  in  this 
our  Picardian  Academus  of  Ambrose. 

Shepherd,  I  never  could  mak  out  how  astronomers  lay  doon  their 

*  Dr.  Brawtter,  Principal  of  th«  UniTenity  of  St.  Andrawt.  U  one  of  Uie  eight  Forain 
Aeeociate  memben  of  the  Institute  of  Fnuioejand  founded  the  Britieh  AMooiation  for  tLt 
AdTaaoenent  of  Betenee.    He  irw  knighted  hj  WiUiam  1V.~M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


ASTfiONOMT.  113 

localities  in  the  gate  they  do,  wi'  sic  a  Paterson-road  precision,  in 
the  heavenly  regions.  I  suspeck  they  tell  great  lees.  But  go  on, 
sir;  there^s  a  pleasure  in  li^tenia'  to  what  ane  does  na  understaun\ 

North.  It  appears,  James,  that  Messrs.  Smith  and  Herschel  have, 
by  a  system  somewhat  similar  to  ours,  at  which  we  have  this  mo- 
ment glanced,  viz.  by  a  diligent  and  unceasing  use  of  their  glasses, 
discovered  some  380  double  stars,  and  fixed,  finally,  irrevocably, 
and  beyond  all  contestation,  sixteen  binary  systems ;  or,  if  any  one 
has  a  mind  to  be  critically  and  impertinently  exact,  fourteen. 

Sfiepherd.  But  what  is  a  binary  system  1 

North,  Never  mind,  James.  Fourteen  binary  systems,  whereof 
follows  a  list  in  Doctor  Brewster's  article,  with  which  God  forbid 
you  should  trouble  yourself  farther,  James,  as  you  have  something 
better  to  do  than  to  trouble  your  brains  with  |  Ui'sae  Majoris — s  f  fi. 
Bootis — and  the  rest  of  the  rabble  of  heavenly  rubbish  ;  rubble,  we 
say  ;  for  we  do  not  perceive  one  among  them  which  seems  to  be  a 
star  of  the  slightest  respectability. 

Shepherd,  Wae's  me !  I've  entirely  lost  the  thread  o'  your  dis- 
course.    Do  you  ken,  you've  gien  me  a  desperate  headache  1 

North.  Like  a  Socrates,  James,  we  were  busied  in  bringing  down 
wisdom  from  heaven  to  earth,  and  drawing,  by  an  easy  and  soothing 
process,  the  minds  of  our  readers  from  the  double  stars  of  the 
firmament,  to  the  double  stars  which  will  decorate  the  front  of  our 
November  Number  1828 — the  twin  luminaries  of  Maga,  shining 
harmoniously  forth  on  the  eyes  of  dark,  benighted,  wandering  tra- 
vellers, like  reason  to  the  soul. 

Shepherd,  Twa  numbers  again !  Some  month  o*  some  year  or 
ither,  you'll  be  puttin'  out  three,  and  if  the  warld  stauns  that,  she'll 
staun  ony  thing. 

North.  We  recommend  all  manner  of  persons  to  dismiss  from 
their  minds  all  considerations  of 

-^—  sphere, 
With  ceotric  and  eoeentrio  scribbled  o'er. 
Cycle  aod  epicycle ;  orb  in  orb ; 

Lad  be  warned  by  Adam's  advice  and  our  own 

to  know, 

That  which  before  them  on  the  table  lies, 

1 
Is  the  prime  wisdom — what  is  more  is  fume, 

2  8 

Or  emptmess,  or  food  impertinence. 
IS  8 

i.  e.  to  say,  the  London,  Monthly,  and  New  Monthly  Magazines. 

Shepherd,  Come,   come,  nae  sneerin*   at  the  ither   periodicals. 
They're  a'  verra  ^de. 
'V0L.m.-9 


Digitized  by 


Google 


114  NOCTTES  AMBROSIANJB. 

North.  They  are — and  the  London  is  amazingly  improved  under 
its  present  able  management.*  Here  then  we  are,  revolving  not 
round  one  another  in  periods  varying  fVom  51  to  1200  years,  but 
round  the  public  in  one  steady  period  of  thirty  days;  not  through 
idle  space,  cheerless  and  uncheered,  as  far  as  humanity  is  concerned^ 
but  among  millions  of  our  countrymen,  filling  them  with  joy,  and 
mirth,  and  gladness,  and  Toryism  ;  never  stationary,  never  retro- 
grade, but  always  direct;  never  minus,  always j^/w* — 

Shepherd,  O  man  !  but  you  appear  to  me  to  be  keepin'  up  the 
metaphor  wi'  great  power  and  skill,  like  a  man  playin*  by  himself 
at  battledore  and  shuttlecock,  wha  may  gie  ower  whene'er  he  likes 
without  losin'  the  game. 

North,  Our  shine  never  dimmed  by  occultation  or  obscuration, 
but  ever  brilliant,  fixed,  and  untwinkling  ;  never  of  aspect  malign, 
(except  to  the  Whigs,  in  whose  horoscope  our  influence  was  worse 
than  that  of  Saturn,)  but  always  benignant  and  friendly — always  the 
lodestar. 

Shepherd,  Your  vice,  Mr.  North,  is  soundin'  in  my  lugs  like  a 
far-aff  waterfa'. 

North,  The  cynosure  of  church  and  king,  on  whom,  with  joyful 
eye,  the  tried  friends  of  both  delight  to  look,  with  a  glance  as  keen 
and  discriminating,  as  ever  Dr.  Brinkley,|  the  Bishop  of  Cloyne, 
first  of  astronomers  and  worthiest  of  men,  ever  turned  upon  Gamma 
Draconis,  when  in  quest  of  its  parallax. 

Shepherd,  I'm  thinkin'  I  was  drappin'  asleep  the  noo,  and  tumblin' 
ower  a  precipice.     1  howp  I  did  na  yawn  nane? 

North,  Yawn,  James! — yes,  that  you  did,  like  a  chasm  in  a  trea. 
tise  on  the  picturesque.  This  may  seem  the  language  of  eulogium 
— it  is  that  of  truth.  We  appeal  to  that  great  mathematician  whom 
we  have  named,  and  who  is  this  moment  occupied  in  studying  our 
pages  in  the  calm  retirement  of  the  Episcopal  dwelling  of  St. 
Col  man  ;  we  appeal  to  Dr.  Pond,  J  Dr.  Brewster,  Mr.  Herschel,  Mr. 
Whewell,  Mr.  Smith,  Mr.  Rigaud,  Mr.  Powell,  and  the  late  Messrs. 
Vince  and  Woodhouse,  (is  the  latter  dead  ?)  the  invisible  Dr.  Blair 
of  the  University  of  Edinburgh,  and  the  inaudible  Dr.  Cowper  of 
the  west  country,  and  any  other  person  who  has  made  the  move- 
ments of  heavenly  bodies  the  study  of  his  life. 

Shepherd,  What  is  that  you  appeal  to  them  about — may  I  respect- 
fully ask  you,  sir  1 

North.  Why,  James,  upon  my  honor  I  forget — ^let  it  be  any  thing 
whatever. 

*  By  Charlei  Knii^ht,  Editor  of  the  Pictorial  Shaktpoare.— M. 

t  Br.  Brinkler,  Froreasor  of  Astronomy  in  Trinity  CoUoge,  Dublin,  was  nude  Biahcp  of 
Cloyne,  in  l&iii,  and  died  in  1835.— M. 

t  Mr.  Pond  was  Astronomer  Royal  of  England.  Tha  othan  vara  highly  disUngnished  iot 
their  Kientifie  attainments.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


DOUBLE  KUHBEB8.  115 

Shepherd,  Oh  aye !  I  see  how  it  is.  The  toddy's  beginnin'  to 
tell.     The  memory  first  gangs,  and  then  the  judgment. 

North,  We  are  frequently  asked  what  is  the  reason  why  we  pub- 
lish double  Numbers,  as  we  sometimes  do.  The  answer  is  in  one 
word — Necessity.  With  that  plea  we  excuse  the  devilish  deeds  of 
our  groaning  presses.  What  can  we  do  ?  In  the  space  of  eight 
sheets  it  is  physically  impossible  to  squeeze  the  matter  of  sixteen. 
Inexorable,  and  occasionally  even  fierce,  in  the  rejection  of  articles, 
as  we  are,  it  is  still  out  of  our  power  to  keep  down  the  ever-growing 
pile  of  excellent  matter,  which  swells  behind  our  editorial  chair.  We 
use  all  the  methods  recommended  by  old  Anchises  in  Virgil, — 

**  Alia  pandantur  inanes, 
SuspeDfla  ad  vcntoB ;  aliis  Bub  gurgite  yaato 
iDfectum  eluitur  Bcelus,  aut  exuiitur  igne.** 

Whicti  may  be  thus  literally  translated — 

Some  from  our  attio  window,  perched  on  hiffh, 
Borne  on  Auld  Reekie's  winds,  are  sent  to  fly — 
Some,  hurVd  indignant  by  the  hand  of  North, 
Dive  to  the  bottom  of  the  Frith  of  Forth — 
While  o'er  the  rest  impends  a  fiery  fate, — 
The  cook's  devouring  names,  the  terrors  of  the  gratei 

Shepherd,  That's  smooth  versification,  sir. 

North,  Yet  with  all  these  methods,  and  others,  which  we  deem  ii 
unnecessary  to  mention,  we  cannot  succeed. 

Shepherd,  Puir  chiel ! — I  was  sorry  to  hear  o'  the  death  o'  the 
head  Incremawtor.     What  for  did  he  no  insure  his  life  1 

North,  There  are  articles  which  it  were  sin — mortal  sin — to 
destroy  ;  and  for  these,  how  are  we  to  manage,  but  by  establishing 
a  Supplemental  Number?  It  is  our  sole  remaining  resource,  and 
happy  are  we  to  say,  it  has  always  been  palatable  to  both  public 
and  publisher.  We  never  heard  a  complaint  against  it,  but  one 
from  an  Irish  gentleman  living  in  Nassau-street,  Dublin,  that  it 
puzzled  him  extremely  when  we  published  a  double  Number,  for  he 
never  could  distinguish  which  was  the  Magazine,  and  which  the  Sup* 
plement.  Both  of  them,  said  he,  are  so  first-rate,  that  there  is  no 
knowing  which  is  to  play  second  fiddle  to  the  other. 

Slupherd,  The  first  time  a  dooble  Number  appeared,  ma  copies 
were  brought  in  by  the  lass  as  usual  in  a  brown  paper  parshel,  weel 
waxed  and  twined — and  directed,  James  Hogg,  Esq.,  Mount  Benger. 
I  tore't  open — and  thinks  I,  am  I  fou  ?  When  a  body's  in  that  state, 
you  ken  sir,  you  can  dispel  the  delusion  o'  dooble  vision  o'  ony  par- 
ticular object,  like  a  tome  or  a  tummler,  by  takin'  hard  hand  o't  in 
your  baun',  like  grim  death,  and  thus  garrin'  ganin'  yoursel  confess 
that  it's  in  the  singular  number.     You've  often  dune  that,  sir,  I'm 


Digitized  by 


Google 


116  NOCrSS  AHBR06I4K.fi. 

sure.  But  on  that  occasion  I  held  a  nnmber  in  ilka  haun' — and  I 
cried  to  the  lass,  who  had  gaen  ben  the  trance,  "Tibbie,  is't  ere  a 
byeuk,  wi'  a  man's  face  on't,  in  your  master^s  richt  haun*  and  like- 
wise in  his  left?"  Tibby  answered  in  the  affirmative  and  I  grew 
convinced  that  there  was  honafeedy  a  dooble  Number. 

North,  Couldn't  you  have  looked  at  the  leading  articles,  James? 

Shepherd.  I  thocht  o'  doin  that— but  suppose  the  ane  had  begun 
wi'  a  Hor®  Germaniese  XXIV.,  and  the  other  wi'  a  HorsB  Italic8S 
XIV.,  hoo  the  devil  could  ever  1  have  come  to  ony  satisfactory  and 
permanent  conclusion  as  to  there  being  only  ae  magazine  or  twa  ? 

North,  James,  why  were  you  not  at  the  magnificent  dinner  given 
to  that  best  of  Highland  gentlemen  and  soldiers,  General  David 
Stewart  of  Garth,  on  his  appointment  to  the  government  of  St. 
Lucie  1* 

Shepherd,  What  for  was  ye  no  there  yoursel'?  But  ca'  him 
Garth. 

North,  I  was  confined  to  bed,  and  in  vain  attempted  to  put  on  the 
tartans. 

Shepherd,  I  set  out  in  the  gig,  but  got  laired — for  the  Lammas 
floods  were  down — and  the  gig  was  na  got  out  till  the  road  had  sub- 
sided. Sad  and  sorry  was  1  no  to  be  present  to  show  my  regard 
and  respect  for  my  distinguished  friend,  about  to  take  farewell  for  a 
time  o'  his  native  land.  I  had  written  twa  songs  for  the  occasion. 
The  ane  on  Garth  himsel'  Til  sing  anither  time.  But  here's  Uie  ane 
ca'd  the  "  Stuarts  o'  Appin." 

I  Bivo  of  a  land  that  waB  fkmoiit  of  jore, 

The  land  of  Green  Appin,  the  ward  of  the  flood. 
Where  every  gray  cairn  that  broods  over  the  shore, 

Marks  grave  of  the  ro^al,  the  valiant,  or  good 
The  land  where  the  strains  of  gray  Ossian  were  framed^^ 

The  land  of  fair  Selnu^  and  reign  of  Fingal, 
And  late  of  a  race  that  with  tears  must  be  named. 
The  noble  Clan  Stuabt,  the  bravest  of  alL 
Oh-hon,  an  Rei  I  and  the  Stuarts  of  A[^in ! 
The  galUint,  devoted,  old  Stoarts  of  Appin  1 
Their  glory  is  o'er, 
For  the  clan  is  no  more, 
And  the  Sassenach  sings  on  the  hilli  of  green  Apptn. 

In  flpite  of  the  Campbells,  their  might  and  renowo^ 

And  all  the  proud  files  of  Glenorchy  and  Lorn, 
While  one  of  toe  Stuarts  held  claim  on  the  crown, 

Hb  banner  full  boldly  by  Appin  was  borne. 
And  ne'er  fell  the  Campbells  in  cheek  or  trepan, 

In  all  their  Whig  efiurts  their  power  to  renew. 
But  still  on  the  Stuarts  of  Appin  they  ran, 

To  wreak  their  proud  wrath  on  the  brave  and  the  lew, 
Ob-bon,  an  Kei !  and  the  Stuarts  of  Appb,  Ac. 

*  G«ii«ral  Staw&rt  of  Garth  ww  author  of  a  raluablo  History  of  th«  HiKkluid  Clan*.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


117 

Id  the  jear  of  the  Graham,  while  in  ooeaoB  of  blood 

The  fields  of  the  Campbells  were  gallantly  flowing^—. 
It  was  then  that  the  SruAaTs  the  foremost  still  stood, 

And  paid  back  a  share  of  the  debt  they  were  owing. 
O  proud  Inverlochy  1     O  day  of  renown  f 

Since  first  the  sim  rote  o'er  (be  peaks  of  Cruachin, 
Was  ne'er  sucli  an  host  by  such  valor  o'erthrown, 

Was  ne'er  such  a  day  for  the  Stuabts  of  Appin  I 
Oh-hon,  an  Rei,  and  the  Stuarts  of  Appiu,  Ae, 

And  ne'er  for  the  crown  of  the  Stuarts  was  fought 

One  battle  on  vale,  or  on  mountain  deer-trodden, 
But  dearly  to  Appin  the  glory  was  bought, 

And  dearest  of  all  on  the  field  of  CulToden  1 
Lament,  O  Clen-creran,  Glen-duror,  Aixishiel, 

High  offspring  of  heroes,  who  oonquer'd  were  never, 
For  the  deeds  of  vour  fathers  no  bard  shall  Teveal, 

And  the  bold  clan  of  Stuart  must  perish  for  ever. 
Oh-hon,  an  Rei  I  and  the  Stuarts  of  Appin,  ^ 

Clan-Chattan  is  broken,  the  Scaforth  bends  low,* 

The  sun  of  Clan- Ranald  is  siukiug  in  labor  I 
Glenco,  and  Clan-Donnachie,  where  are  they  now  f 

And  where  is  bold  Keppoch,  the  loved  of  Lochaberf 
All  gone  wiih  the  house  they  supported  ! — laid  low. 

While  dogs  of  the  south  their  bold  life  blood  were  lapping; 
Trod  down  by  a  prood  and  a  merciless  foe, 

The  bmve  are  all  gone  with  the  Stuarts  of  Appin  I 
Oh-hou,  an  Rei  I  and  the  Stuarts  of  Appin,  <£c 

lliey  are  gone  I    They  are  gone  1    The  redoubted,  the  bray*  1 

The  sea-breezes  lone  o'er  their  relics  are  sighing, 
Dark  weeds  of  oblivion  shroud  many  a  grave, 

Where  the  unconquered  foes  of  the  Campbell  are  lying. 
But,  long  as  the  gray  hairs  wave  over  this  brow. 
And  earthly  emotions  my  spirit  are  wrapping, 
My  old  heart  with  tides  of  regret  shall  o'erflow. 
And  bleed  for  the  fall  of  the  Stuarts  of  Appin, 
Oh-hon,  an  Rei  1  and  the  Stuarts  of  Appm  1 
The  gallant,  devoted,  old  Stuarts  of  Appin  I 
Their  glory  is  o'er. 
For  their  star  is  no  more. 
And  tiie  green  grass  waves  o'er  the  heroes  of  Appiu  I 

(  The  whole  tenement  rings  with  acelamation.) 

Shepherd.  What's  that  1     What's  that  ? 

Ambrate.  (Entering^  much  agitated.)  The  Festal  Hall,  Mr.  North, 
k  filled  with  the  Canongate  Kilwinning — we  have  five  supper  parties 

*  Lord  Seafortb,  irho  wm  head  of  the  Mackenzie  olan,  died  in  Jannarf ,  1815,  and  the  titlo 
Weame  ^lormant.  if  not  extinct,  ticott  wrote  a  poem  on  hu  death.  The  Karldom  (forfeited  in 
171$.)  was  one  of  the  oldeet  in  Scotland.  The  Celtic  deeignation  of  the  chief  of  the  clan  ia 
Caberfae,  meaning  Staghead,  the  armorial  bearing  of  the  familj.  There  wae  an  old  tradition, 
^lieTed  to  be  falfilled  by  Lord  SeAl<jrtV#  deftth,  that  whsn  there  nhoaid  be  a  deaf  CaberCM. 
the  honae  ironld  iiall— M. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 

i 


118  NOOTES  AMBBOSIAN^ 

in  the  Parlors — and  the  whole  insist  on  either  sending  deputations 

or  coming  bodily 

Sliepherd,  Fling  open  the  fan  Id  ing-doors,  Awmrose — and  that 
ither  door  comandin'  a  vista  o'  the  lang  trans 

{The  wide  folding-doors  fly  open^  and  tJie  Festal  Hall  is  seen  illu- 
minated through  all  its  lofty  length,  with  its  gas  chandeliers,  and 
crammed  with  the  Brethren  of  the  Canongate  Kilwinning  Lodge,  in 
gorgeous  apparel.  The  side-door  also  is  unfolded,  and  the  lobby, 
far  as  the  eye  can  reach,  is  seen  crowded  with  crowned  heads.  There 
is  a  deep  silence  for  a  moment,  and,  as  Mr.  North  and  Hooo  rise 
and  boWy  the  thunder  of  applause  is  like  the  splitting  of  an  ice- 
berg.) 

Shepherd,  Noo's  the  time  for  a  toast,  Mr.  North.  Tak  them 
in  the  fit,  and  astonish  their  weak  minds  wi'  a  speech. 

North,  (Raising  his  right  arm  in  sign  of  silence,  amidst  prodigious 
applause,)  Gentlemen, — On  rising  to  propose,  with  all  the  honors, 
The  Duke  of  Wellington  and  his  Majesty's  Ministers,  (Thunders 
of  applause^ — it  will  scarcely  be  expected  that  I  can,  at  this  late 
hour  of  the  night,  take  more  than  a  very  genera]  and  sweeping 
survey  of  the  principles  that  now  guide  the  foreign  and  domestic 
policy  of  what,  I  fear  not,  will  prove  itself  to  be  the  wisest  and 
strongest  government  with  which  Great  Britain  was  ever  blessed, 
by  a  gracious  and  benignant  Providence.  (Loud  cries  of  Hear^ 
hear,  hear.)  Thank  Heaven,  it  is  a  fixed  and  a  permanent  govern- 
ment. Ministers  were  becoming  as  fickle  and  variable  a  race  as 
women — either  as  young  or  old  women — (laughter) — and  though  at 
first  wonderfully  thankful,  they  in  general  contrived  to  get  into  the 
sulks  before  the  expiration  of  the  honeymoon.  (Loud  laughter,) 
Why  really,  gentlemen,  there  was  much  to  admire  in  the  pictu- 
resque— the  fantastic  combinations  into  which  the  doudland  of  ad- 
ministration was  being  perpetually  thrown  by  every  gale  that 
chanced  to  blow  from  north  or  south — the  chief  shape  in  the  airy 
pageant  being  sometimes  like  a  whale,  sometimes  like  a  camel,  and 
sometimes  like  a  weasel.  (Loud  laughter.)  But  the  whole  unsub- 
stantial fabric  of  mist  and  vapor  is  swept  away — and  we  have  once 
more  a  clear  view  of  the  bold,  bright,  blue  sky.  (Hear,  hear,  hear.) 
Why,  even  had  the  men  and  the  measures  themselves  been  good, 
there  had  been  something  luckless  and  portentous  in  this  perpetual 
shifting  of  scenery  and  actors — but  they  were  all  very  bad,  or  indif- 
ferently so— and,  thank  Heaven,  before  the  bungled  performance 
could  be  brought  to  anything  like  a  catastrophe,  the  curtain  dropped ; 
and  pray,  whether,  think  ye,  was  it  the  more  likely  to  have  proved 
a  tragedy  or  a  farce  1  (Much  laughter) — I  said,  gentlemen,  that 
those  frequent  changes  were  bad  as  changes — and  they  were  worse 


Digitized  by 


Google 


NOETH'B  OBATION.  119 

on  this  account,  that  they  were  always  changes  approximating  the 
government  nearer  and  nearer  to  what  the  country  hates,  despises, 
and  distrusts — Whigajery. — {Loud cheers) — Gentlem.en,  only  suppose 
for  a  moment  a  change  in  the  management  of  the  editorship  of 
Blackwood's  Magazine. — {No,  no,  no,  no;  we  cannot  suppose  it — no, 
no,  no.) — Suppose  Tickler  edited  Maga  in  spring, — (Loud  cheers) — 
Mr.  Hi>gg  in  Summer — {Immense  cheering  and  laughter) — Mordecai 
Mullion  in  autumn — {Laughter) — and  in  winter  Ensign  and  Adju- 
tant Morgan  O'Doherty,  the  Standard-hearer  —  {Tremendous  ap- 
plause, and  shouts  of  laughter) — High  as  one  and  all  of  these  eminent 
individuals  stand,  both  as  public  and  private  characters  in  the  esti- 
mation of  the  world,  and  most  deservedly  so — {Hear,  hear) — I  put 
it  boldly  to  your  consciences,  and  on  your  consciences  you  will 
reply — would,  could  Maoa  have  been  the  Maoa  she  long  has  been, 
is,  and  ever  will  be,  under  the  Prime-Ministership — the  First  Lord 
of  the  Treasuryship,  of  the  very  humble  person  who  now  addresses 
you,  old  Christopher  North? — {Never,  never,  never, — hurra,  hurra, 
hurra,  hurra,  Enthusiastic  cheers  for  many  minutes,)  But,  gentle- 
men, suppose  me  dead, — {No,  no,  no,  never,  never,  never, — hurra, 
hurra,  hurra  ;  Norlh^s  immortal — hurra) — and  that  Moga,  by  one 
of  those  wonderful  changes  in  human  affairs  that  sometimes  startle 
the  eye  of  wisdom,  and  make  virtue  hang  her  head — suppose  that 
the  administration  of  Maga  had  fallen  into  the  hands,  or  rather  the 
paws  of  the  Cockneys — {£normous  guffaws)— that  Leigh  Hunt  had 
been  appointed  Prime  Minister,  {continued  cachinnation)  Hazlitt, 
Home  Secretary — {Much  derision)  —  and  Tims  elevated  to  the 
AVar  Department — {Convulsions  of  laughter,)*  Gentlemen,  the  base 
faction  whom  we  have  finally  put  down,  might  have  been  forgiven 
much,  had  they  loved  their  country — even  as  slaves  love  the  soil. 
But  the  passion  of  patriotism  is  too  nearly  akin  to  virtue  ever  to 
find  a  place  in  the  bosoms  of  the  degenerate.  They  strove,  as  if 
they  had  been  ungrateful  aliens,  in  vain  legitimatized  on  the  sacred 
soil  of  Albion,  to  shear  her  crown  of  glory  of  all  its  beams — {Hear, 
hear,  hear.)  True,  they  had  a  few  watch- words  which  their  unhal- 
lowed lips  profaned — Hampden  and  Sydney,  for  example, — names 
that  lost  all  their  grandeur,  when  eulogized  by  (he  drivellings  of 
drunken  demagogues, — {Tremendous applause) — who,  on  concluding 
their  orations,  in  their  zeal  against  corruption,  forgot  to  pay  their 
bill,  and  by  their  love  of  liberty,  were  eventually  laid  by  the  heels 
in  jail. — {Immense  laughter.)  Gentlemen,  let  me  come  to  the  point 
at  once.  The  great  question  is,  peace  or  war?  Ye.**,  J^ay  a  thousand 
tongues — peace — because  you  can't  help  it     The  Viscount  Chateau- 

•  This  strange  jnmblc  of  rcnl  nnd  linatrlnnry  persons,  whrrcby  the  fictitions  and  the  nctnal 
were  so  mingled  together  that  many  readers  hwl  arrived  at  tho  conclusion  that  all  wore  i-cal, 
iras  cboTRCtiurlstic  of  Moga  during  the  first  flye-and-twenty  years  of  her  vigorous  existence. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


120  NO0TE8  AUBBOSIAN^ 

briand  in  his  Journal  des  Dobats — the  fat  old  editor  of  the  Courier 
Fran9ai8 — Cobbett — Hunt — the  Philadelphia  Quarterly — Shell — 
Connel — Lawless — many  others  in  all  shapes  and  sizes,  loudly 
exclaim, — You  must  have  peace.  You  are  broken  by  your  debt; 
you  can't  fire  a  gun.  There  are  the  Irish  Papists ;  there  are  the 
Luddites  (this  was  Chateaubriand's  crotchet ;)  there  are  the  one- 
pound  notes;  there  is  everything  in  this  world  I  Hear^  hear^  hear^ 
that's  a  capital  expression,)  Fight  you  can't — you  are  dead.  You 
are  "effaced  in  the  universe,"  says  the  Viscount.  "Bless  us,"  says 
a  man  of  a  very  superior  order  of  talent  to  Chateaubriand,  namely 
Cobbett,  "  how  pacific  and  gentle  we  are  become  in  these  days ! 
We  want  the  lion  to  lie  down  with  the  lamb.  Having  the  greatest 
captain  of  the  age  at  the  head  of  us,  and  having  a  most  thundering 
standing  army  in  the  midst  of  profound  peace»  we,  quite  in  the 
Quaker  style,  are  wholly  employed  in  producing  peace  and  quiet- 
ness among  all  the  nations  on  the  earth.  Not  content  with  having 
f»eace  for  ourselves,  and  letting  the  rest  of  the  world  do  what  it 
ikes,  we  must  needs  make  all  other  nations,  or,  at  least,  pray  them 
to  do  it,  live  in  peace  and  in  brotherly  love.  This  is  a  new  tone, 
and  this  is  a  new  oflice  for  England.  It  is  very  amiable ;  and  it  is 
amongst  those  good  effects  which  poverty  produces  wherever  it 
exists."  {Capital/  Cohbett's  often  capital*)  And  so  Old  England 
is  beaten  !  Well !  we  are  sorry  for  it — for  it  was  a  good  fighting 
sort  of  country  once  upon  a  time.  We  remember  the  day  when  it 
had  a  name  for  holding  out  cold  iron ;  and  looking  on,  if  we  have 
seen — 


that  glory  fade, 


That  honor  periflh,  and  that  £fune  deoay^ 

there  is  no  use  of  talking  about  it  any  further;  we  have  seen  a 
sorry  sight.  {Devil  the  fears — hurraw,  hurraw^  hurraw,)  Cheer 
up!  old  Queen  of  the  Waters!  cheer  up!  We  cannot  fight,  it 
seems.  Have  we  fewer  hands,  or  weaker  thews  and  sinews,  or 
colder  hearts — is  the  breed  of  the  men  of  Cressy,  and  Poictiers, 
and  Agincourt,  and  Blenheim,  and  Ramilies,  Oudenarde,  and  Mal- 
plaquet,  Alexandria,  Talavera,  and  Salamanca,  Vittoria  and  Tou* 
louse,  and  Waterloo^-to  say  nothing  of  the  Armada,  La  Hogue,  the 
West  Indies  (Rodney),  the  Ist  of  June,  Caniperdown,  St.  Vincent, 

*  Cobbett  often  was  capital.  No  Enffliih  politieal  writer  erw  had  ao  mQeb  ireigkt,  witii  aU 
Ids  incoDsUtencies,  aa  Cobbett.  la  ^itica  ne  bad  Toerad  round  to  all  pointa  of  the  compaia, 
commencing  with  Pitt  and  ending  with  Paine,  but  he  was  in  earnest,  Tor  the  time  being,  on 
whaterer  he  wrote.  He  had  a  go<M,  dear,  intelli^tible  waj  of  expressing  himself,  which  tha 
meanest  of  the  chaw-baoona  (aa  he  used  to  call  them)  or  laboring  claaMs,  could  understand. 
Southey  told  me  that  he  conaidered  Cobbett  the  best  English  proaa-writer  sinoe  the  time  ot 
Jeremy  Taylor.  When  Cobbett  died,  in  June,  1835,  (literally  killed,  at  the  age  of  73.  by  the 
late  hours  and  impure  atmosphere  of  the  House  of  Commons,  for  his  strong  constitution  and 
temperate  habits  had  marked  him  aa  likely  to  live  at  leaat  fifteen  years  longer,  under  ordinary 
rircrmstanoes,)  the  warmest  eulogies  upon  his  charaoter  aa  a  writer  and  a  man  were  thoaa 
«ritUA  by  hia  political  opponenta.— M 


Digitized  by 


Google 


BRITISH  PLUOK.  121 

the  Nile,  Copenhagen,  and  Trafalgar,  with  ten  thousand  other  battles 
and  sieges  by  sea  and  land,  which,  in  other  histories,  would  have 
filled  the  trump  of  fame,  as  fitting  passports  to  immortality  for  all 
concerned  in  them,  and  as  crowns  of  eternal  glory  for  the  nation 
whose  annals  they  illuminated.  (Loud  and  enthusiastic  cries  of 
Hear^  hear^  hear,)  Is  that  breed  of  men  extinct?  Nobody  will 
say  it.  Is  the  spirit  departed  from  among  us,  which  won  France 
in  the  days  of  chivalry,  which  smote  to  the  ground  the  power  of 
Spain,  in  the  times  of  the  commencement  of  modem  civilization— 
(iVb,  it  liveSj  and  will  live  for  ever) — which  has  spread  the  dominions 
of  Japhet  unto  the  tents  of  Shem,  and  seated  a  company  of  foreign 
merchants  upon  the  throne  of  the  Tamerlanes  and  the  Gengises — 
(Beautifu^  Oriental  imagery — Ifeary  hear,  hear) — which  fought  single- 
handed  against  almost  the  whole  world  in  arms,  and  came  forth 
jubilant  in  victory  from  the  gigantic  contests  in  our  own  days — is 
the  spirit  that  has  made  one  of  the  smallest  of  nations  mistress  of 
all  the  waves  of  the  sea,  wheresoever  they  roll  from  north  and 
south — is  that  spirit  dead  ?  (iVa,  tw,  na, — it's  an  immortal  speerit.) 
Let  anybody  say  so,  and  we  shall  "call  the  tailor,  loon."  (Tiler^ 
tiler,  tiler^^snip,  snip,  snip.)  A  tailor  must  he  be— (A«  maun  be 
fatf)— and  a  most  degenerate  tailor — {hear,  hear,  hear) — a  stercora- 
ceous  &wner  upon  the  foreman — {Loud  laughter) — who  never  could 
screw  his  courage  to  the  desperation  of  dreaming  that  he  could  be  a 
man.  {Sere  the  house  was  convulsed  for  several  minutes.)  No- 
nobody  says  this.  General  Foy,  in  his  posthumous  work,*  James, 
— Gentlemen — Mr.  Speaker — in  which  he  endeavors  to  depreciate 
the  English  soldier  as  much  as  he  can,  is  obliged  in  spite  of  himself 
to  stop  in  his  career  of  cursing,  and  to  bless  altogether.  As  for  our 
sailors,  he  gives  up  any  attempt  to  impeach  their  valor — he  coolly 
dismisses  them  as  "  sea-wolves  roaming  over  the  ocean,"  with  whom 
contest  is  so  hopeless  as  to  be  almost  impertinent.  But  a  band  there 
was,  the  invincible  Soldiers  of  La  Belle  France — there  was  the  Old 
Guard,  which,  as  Cambronne  said,  as  he  was  sneaking  away  in 
custody  of  a  corporal,  "may  die,  but  not  surrender;"  and  with 
them,  competition  on  the  part  of  the  modem  Vikinger,  was  held  to 
be  equally  absurd.  In  Spain,  however,  he  remarks,  the  French 
officers  observed  that  it  was  much  easier  to  laugh  at  English  armies 
in  their  casernes  of  Paris,  than  to  stand  before  them  in  the  fields  of 
the  Peninsula ; — {Hear,  hear) — and,  adds  the  General,  with  much 
naiveti,  "  it  does  not  require  much  discrimination  to  find  out  that 

*  This  -WMB  a  History  of  tho  Peninralar  War,  written  by  Goneral  Foy,  and  published  by  his 
widow,  after  his  death.  General  Foy,  who  had  preTiously  won  laurels  in  Italy,  Germany, 
and  Portugal,  succeeded  Mannont,  as  oommander-in-chief  ol'  the  French  forces,  after  the  baitl« 
of  Balsmanca,  and  skilfully  eondnoted  the  retreat  of  the  Douro — as  related  in  Napier's  Penin- 
sular War.  At  Waterloo  he  receired  his  fifteenth  wound,  but  refuted  to  quit  hts  post  until 
the  battle  was  ended.  When  he  died,  15*^5,  he  was  so  poor,  that  a  j)nblic  subscriptioB  was 
raised  to  proTide  for  his  widow  and  family  and  erect  a  moaiuneBt  to  his  memory.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


NO0TE8  AHBBOSIAK^. 

the  same  courage,  constancy,  discipline,  and  coolness,  which  obtained 
for  them  victories  at  sea,  would  be  equally  available  if  properly 
conducted  on  land*"  Yet  before  Waterloo,  the  French  Peninsular 
officers  comforted  themselves  with  the  reflection,  that  the  Emperor 
had  not  yet  been  opposed — excepting  at  Acre,  which  was  judiciously 
forgotten — to  the  English  troops — that  the  Old  Guard  had  never 
been  looked  upon  in  all  the  grimness  of  gasconade ; — (laughter) — 
and  "wait,"  said  they,  "till  t^e»."  Well !  the  time  came  at  last 
of  this  much-wished-for  consummation.  There  was  the  Emperor — • 
there  was  the  Guard — there  was  the  flower  of  France — there  was 
Ney — and  Murat,  and  the  other  thunderbolts  of  war,  fighting  for 
their  lives,  their  honors,  their  fame,  with  all  the  desperation  of  men 
who  knew  that  victory  was  glory  and  fortune,  and  that  defeat  was 
total  ruin.  And  what  was  the  result? — [Ay,  what  was  the  result/) 
— Foy,  and  other  writers  of  his  school,  filled  with  mean  jealousy 
against  the  great  and  glorious  General  that  prostrated  their  idol,  a 
meanness  of  which  Bonaparte  himself,  to  his  disgrace,  was  guilty,* 
say  all  that  they  can  to  depreciate  the  Duke  of  Wellington.  {Scorn- 
ful laughter,)  They  employ  all  the  petty  and  contemptible  so- 
phistry with  which  the  discomfited  have  always  consoled  themselves, 
to  decry  the  military  skill  of  a  General  who  never  knew  what  it 
was  to  be  defeated ;  and  some  of  them  go  so  far  as  to  say,  with 
countenances  of  triple  brass,  that  the  French  had  actually  won  the 
victory,  and  that  the  English  were  beaten  some  half-dozen  times  in 
the  course  of  the  day.  If  we  ask  them  why,  if  beaten,  were  they 
not  driven  ofi*  the  ground  ?  why  did  not  your  victorious  legions 
hound  them  over  the  field  in  bloody  chase  ?  It  would  have  been  a 
new  sight  to  have  seen  the  backs  of  an  English  battalion.  {Cheers.) 
Foy  will  give  the  answer.  "  There  they  stood,"  says  he, — "  there 
they  stood,  the  immovable  battalions,  as  if  they  were  rooted  to  the 
groundJ**    Ay,  there  they  stood,  indeed — 

—No  thought  of  fligbti 
None  of  retreat — no  unbeconung  Bomid 
That  argued  fear— 

until  the  moment  came,  when,  responsive  to  the  long-panted-for 
signal,!  "  Up,  Guards,  and  at  them,"  they  rushed  forward  to  the 

*  Not  so.  Napoleon  laid  (Aliion  and  others  asreeing  irith  him)  that  Wellington  did  not 
take  the  best  position  at  Waterloo. — for  had  he  been  beaten  he  oonld  not  kare  retreated,  w 
there  was  only  one  road  leading  to  the  forest  in  his  rear — that  he  ought  not  to  hare  giren  bat- 
tie  -with  the  British  and  Prussian  troops  dirided,  and  that  he  allowed  himself  to  be  torprised. 
Napoleon  blamed  Wellington  for  having  allowed  Nej  to  be  shut,  but  said  to  O^Meara,  "  as  a 
Oeneral,  however,  to  find  his  equal  amongst  jour  own  nation  tou  must  go  back  to  the  time  of 
Marlborough."  He  also  praised  his  firmness,  and  added,  '*  Wellinrton  is  my  equal  as  a  Gene- 
ral.— rar  superior  in  prudence.'*  In  Barry  O'Meara's  Napoleon  in  £xile  this  and  much  more 
is  ststed,  and  Las  Casas  reports  the  same  in  his  highly  interesting  and  valuable  work.— M. 

t  Wellington  denied  having  given  any  snch  signal !  At  one  period,  when  two  regiments 
were  giving  way,  before  a  fieice  attack  from  a  superior  force,  Wellington  gallbped  np,  rnllicNl 
tKem,  placed  himself  at  their  head,  exclaimed.  '*  We  must  not  be  beaten  >-wh&t  will  they 
•ay  in  England  ?"  charged  in  person,  and  turned  the  fortune  of  the  day.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


THE  HATIOirAL  DEBT,  123 

Annihilation  of  the  array  which  had  beaten  them,  aooording  to  all 
the  laws  of  war — {loud  cheers) — laws  which,  it  seems,  they  could 
not  comprehend.  Long  may  such  stupidity  characterize  the  soldiers 
of  England ! — {Shouts  of  iaughUr)—^Long  may  she  be  able,  when 
necessity  requires,  to  send  forth  into  the  field,  the  immovable  bat- 
talions which  cannot  be  persuaded  of  defeat — a  word  that  could  not 
make  its  appearance  in  their  vocabulary. — ( Continued  applause)— 
James,  gentlemen,  Mr.  Speaker — ^I  may  be  reminded  here,  that  no- 
body is  doubting  the  valor,  &c.  6lc,  6lc.  of  the  British  army  and 
navy,  and  that  the  only  difficulty  in  the  case,  is  the  money.  How 
can  you  go  to  war,  when  your  National  Debt  is  800,000,000  of 
pounds,*  to  say  nothing  of  shillings  and  pence, — and  your  annual 
taxes  fifty  or  sixty  millions,  as  depicted  in  a  standing  column  of  the 
Quarterly  Review,  some  numbers  ago  ?  To  carry  on  a  war,  you 
must  either  borrow  money  or  increase  your  taxation,  before  you 
propose  to  do  either!  0  curves  in  terrain  animcs /  Is  this  pitiful 
penny  policy  to  tie  down  the  giant  of  England  with  its  Lilliputian 
bondage  f — {Laughter) — We  agree  with  those  who  desire  that  the 
burdens  laid  upon  the  country  should  be  as  light  as  is  consistent 
with  its  security  and  honor, — but  not  one  farthing  lighter.  When 
its  security  and  honor  demand  it,  we  are  prepared  to  lay  on,  and 
**  cursed  be  he  who  first  cries.  Hold,— enough." — {Hear^  hear,  hear.) 
We  have  no  patience  with  those  who  tell  us,  that  the  resources  of 
the  country  would  not  enable  us  to  support  double  the  taxation  that 
they  do  at  present,  provided  circumstances  required  it. — {Uh  f  eh  ? 
ehf  hoo*s  ihatf)-^ls  there  any  one  who  does  not  perceive,  that  we 
could  more  easily  bear  the  reimposition  of  the  Income-tax,  {Ihae  nae 
ohjecUon  to  the  Income-tax,)  or  some  other  one  less  obnoxious  in  its 
mode  of  collection,  than  we  were  at  the  time  of  its  greatest  pres- 
sure ?  And  is  there  any  man  acquainted  with  the  manner  in  which 
we  should  go  to  war  now,  who  will  not  agree  with  us  when  we  say, 
that  that  sum  would  be  amply  sufficient  to  carry  us  through  any 
contest  in  which  there  if  the  slightest  chance  of  our  being  engaged  1 
He  who  will  be  hardy  enough  to  say  so,  does  not  know  how  far 
thirteen  or  fourteen  millions  of  money  expended  on  ourselves — 
(Hear,  hear  hear,) — ^not  in  subsidies,  the  day  of  which  is,  thank  hea- 
ven! gone  by — {hear) — not  in  broken  and  detached  expeditions; 
but  in  the  maintenance  of  one  or  two  great  fleets  and  armies, — not 
in  distant  and  expensive  struggles  about  colonies ;  but  in  Europe 
itself,  at  the  head-quarters,  in  the  very  penetralia  of  an  enemy  who 

*  Ptom  18(13  to  1816,  th«  irhole  p«riod  of  the  war  with  Napoleon,  the  British  expeaditnre 
waa  £1 ,190,729,356.    The  last  foor  yean  (1812  to  1816  inclnaiTe)  oost  £467,709.135,  and  the  ex- 

Enditnre  in  three  raoaths  in  1816,  from  the  time  Napoleon  was  proclaimed  an  outlaw,  in 
arch,  to  the  Battle  of  Waterloo,  in  June,  (rather  1ms  than  three  months)  wasnearljll? 
millions  sterling,— actually  $£S3,465,256.  True,  as  well  aa  forcible  was  Broaffham's  remark, 
when  the  chance  of  an  European  war  was  subsequently  disousaed,  that  **  England  waa  bound 
over  in  800  milUoiia  sterling  to  keep  the  peace."— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


124  NOCTEB  AMBKOSIANJB. 

should  be  hardy  enough  to  make  it  necessary  for  us  to  assault  him, 
— ^not,  in  short,  in  the  fribble  school  of  the  timid  and  cautious  gen- 
erals of  the  early  days  of  the  Anttjacobin  war,  who  suffered  them- 
selves to  be  frightened  into  the  belief  that  we  could  not  oppose  the 
great  continental  powers  in  the  field,  but  that  we  should  be  satisfied 
to  play  second  fiddle  to  nations  who  took  our  money  wheu  it  served 
their  purposes,  and  deserted  our  side  when  they  had  been  saturated 
with  our  guineas.  No.  The  Wellington  school  has  put  an  end  to 
that — {Loud  cries  of  hear,  hear,  hear,  from  the  whole  house) — and  if 
we  must  fight,  a  short  clause  of  three  or  four  lines  in  a  money-bill 
would  in  three  months  put  us  in  possession  of  the  sinews  of  war. — 
{Hear,  hear.) — If  we  wished  to  borrow  money — O  Pluto !  God  of 
the  Stock  Exchange — wouldst  thou  not  open  thy  bags,  and  let  loose 
the  imprisoned  angels  on  the  faith  of  the  flag  of  Old  England  1 — 
(Loud  cries  of  hear,  hear,  interrupted  with  laughter.) — When  Gregor 
Macgregor,  Cacique  of  Poyais,  when  Simon  Bolivar,  Lord  Protector 
of  Colombia,  when  King  Ferdinand  of  Spain,  who,  like  his  great 
predecessor.  Esquire  South  (see  Arbuthnot's  John  fiull,)  though 
rich  in  plate  has  no  breeches,  when  Senor  Thieflado,  or  whatever 
else  his  name  is,  from  Mexico,  {Laughter)  when  Don  Pedro,  im- 
porter of  raw  Irishmen,  of  Brazil,  {conHnued  laughter)  when,  to 
make  short  work  of  it,  Parthians,  and  Medes,  and  Elamites,  and 
the  dwellers  in  Mesopotamia,  and  in  Judsea,  and  Cappadocia,  in 
Pontus  and  Asia,  Phrygia  and  Pamphylia,  in  Egypt  and  in  the  parts 
of  Libya  about  Cyrene,  and  strangers  of  Rome,  Jews  and  prose* 
lytes,  Cretes  and  Arabians,  have  been  borrowing  money  from  us, 
{Convulsions  of  laughter)  when  in  ten  years  we  have  lent  these  lads 
more  than  a  hundred  millions  of  money* — is  it  to  be  believed,  that 

*  Incredible  u  this  may  appear,  it  is  true.  Th«  straggle  betireea  the  eoloaies  of  Spain  aad 
the  mother  country,  which  commrnced  in  1810,  attracted  little  attention  in  Europe  until 
after  the  fall  of  Napoleon.  Urged  by  etronf  sympathy  and  tempted  by  the  liigh  rank  and 
liberal  pay  offered  them  in  South  America,  great  numbers  of  experienced  European  oflieen, 
(irho  could  say  with  Othello,  that  their  occupation  was  gone,)  joined  the  ranks  of  the  insnr> 
gents.  There  wrre  many  English  officers  among  these  auxiliaries,  who  carried  with  thea 
men  and  the  munitions  of  war.  One  adrenturer,  calling  himself  Sir  Gregor  McGregor 
actually  collected  the  matertit  of  an  expedition  in  Great  Bntain  and  Ireland,  earned  them 
across  the  Atlantic  in  British  ships,  under  the  British  flag,  and  employed  them  to  seize  the 
island  of  Porto  Rico,  (one  of  the  Great  Antilles,)  then  belonging  to  Spain,  with  whom  England 
was  at  peace.  On  remonstrance  from  Spain,  the  British  Ministry  (June,  1»19.)  introduoed  a 
bill  maiciDg  it  a  misdemeanor  to  enlist  persons  for  foreign  serrice,  and  carried  it  by  such 
small  majorities  that  it  was  evident  the  national  feeling,  expressed  through  the  Legislature, 
was  in  favor  of  the  insurgents  in  South  America.  The  new  statute  could  not  be  acted  upon, 
and  troops,  stores,  and  money  were  sent  abroad.  Finally,  Spanish  America  became  independ* 
ent.  Canning,  then  Foreign  Secretary,  considering  that  **  the  balance  of  power"  in  Europe  waa 
disturbed  by  the  French  iuTasioii  of  Spain  in  1^3,  resoWed  that  if  France  was  to  possess  Spain, 
it  should  be  *'  Spain  without  the  Indiet."  To  use  his  own  words,  he  "called  the  new  world 
into  existence,  to  redress  the  balance  of  the  old"— which  high-sounding  but  not  very  lucid  sen- 
tence merely  meant  that  he  recognized  the  new  republics  after  they  had  become  independent. 
It  was  officially  sUted,  by  Lord  Falmcrston,  in  Parliament,  that  between  1890  and  1840,  the 
sum  of  £150,000,000  sUrling,  (equivalent  to  $750,00(1,000)  had  been  advanced  Irom  Great  Bri- 
tain in  loans  to  the  popular  ststes  and  republics  of  Spain  and  South  America,  nearlv  all  of 
which  had  been  lost  by  the  faithlessness  and  insolvency  of  the  states  which  received  them. 
Add  to  this  at  least  as  much  mora  lost  at  the  panio  of  18^,  by  British  capitalists  who  had  en- 
tered into  mining  and  other  speeulations  in  south  AoMrica,  aad  we  have  three  hundred  mil- 
lions sterling  utterly  thrown  away  for  ever !— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


BBTII8H  NATIONALITY.  125 

the  only  person  who  should  be  refused  when  be  asked,  would  be 
King  George  the  Fourth,  if  he  were  to  show  his  noble  countenance 
among  the  Jews  and  Gentiles  of  Cornhill  ? — {Thunderous  cheers  from 
aU  parts  of  the  House) — that  would  be  a  hard  case  indeed — {Laughr 
fery— But  of  London  it  may  be  said,  as  of  the  great  maritime  cities 
of  old,  that  her  merchants  are  princes — they  do  not  belong  to  the 
Mammonites,  "  who,  dead  to  glory,  only  burn  for  gold." — (Hear^ 
hear^  hear) — ^Though  they,  and  their  sons,  and  their  servants,  go  out 
in  ships  to  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth, — distant  far,  their  eyes 
are  still  dazzled  into  tears  by  the  dream  of  the  white  cliffs  of  Albion 
— -{Hear,  hear,  hear,) — to  their  hearts  their  native  isle  is  the  fairest 
gem  set  in  ail  the  sea;  and  were  their  King  in  jeopardy,  they  would 
pour  the  wealth  of  the  world  at  his  feet,  till  fleets  and  armies  were 
seen  on  all  our  seas  and  shores,  in  service  of  him,  the  highest- 
minded  of  all  the  House  of  Brunswick,  who  never  has  forgotten  the 
principles  that  seated  his  family  on  the  throne  of  these  unconquered 
and  unconquerable  kingdoms. — {Peals  of  thunder  absolutely  terrible.) 

(For  a  few  moments  there  reigns  a  dead  silence — then  another  peal  of 
thunder  rolls  in  tumultuous  echoes  vp  and  down  all  the  streets  and 
squares  of  tlte  city,  till,  as  if  reverberated  from  tlie  Castle,  it  dies 
over  Arthur's  Seat  among  the  stars.) 

Shepherd.  Lift  him  up  gently,  lifb  him  up  gently — and  for  hea- 
ven's sake,  tak  care  o'  the  gouty  foot 

{7%e  Master  of  the  Canongate  Kilwinning — Senior  and  Junior  War- 
dens— two  Highland  Chieftains  in  full  garb — and  the  Russian  Gen- 
eral— bear  Mr.  North  out  in  triumph  on  their  shoulders,  and  the 
procession  disappears.) 


Digitized  by 


Google 


126  KOCIBB  AMEBtOeiAJSM. 


No.  XXXIX^NOVEMBER,  1828. 

SCENE  I— The  smaller  Oval.  Time,  seven  o'clock.  North  and 
Shepherd.  Table  with  silver  urn — Tea  and  coj^ee-potSj  ditto — 
China,  pattern  the  Murder  of  the  Innocents — Cakes,  crumpets^ 
cookies,  muffins,  bunns,  short-bread,  petticoat-tails,  d:c.  dbc.  Honey, 
marmalade,  jams,  jellies,  d:c.  Rizzards,  kipper,  red  herrings, 
eggs,  dbc.     Dutch  dram-case,  The  Bottle,  &c. 

Shepherd.  I  think  little  or  ntething,  Mr.  North,  o'  the  four-boura 
by  y/ay  o'  a  meal,  excepp  a  man  has  happened,  by  some  miscalcu- 
lation o'  time  or  place,  to  miss  his  dinner. 

North.  I  cannot  now  do,  James,  without  a  single  cup  of  cofiee. 

Shepherd.  A  single  cup  o'  coffee  !  gin  ye  hae  drunk  ane  the  nicht, 
Bir,  you've  drank  half  a  dizzen — forbye  twa  dishes— or  ca*  them 
rather  bowls — for  cups  wad  indeed  be  a  misnomer— or  rather  baish* 
ins  o'  gun-poother  tee  — 

North.  As  you  love  me,  my  dear  James,  call  it  not  tee — but  tay. 
That,  though  obsolete,  is  the  classical  pronunciation.  Thus  Pope 
sings  in  the  Rape  of  the  Liock,  canto  first, 

**  Soft  yieldipff  minds  to  water  elide  away, 
And  sip  wim  nymphs,  their  elemental  tea.* 

And  also  in  canto  third — 

"  Where  thou,  great  Anna,  whom  three  realms  obey. 
Dost  sometimes  counsel  take,  and  sometimes  tea.* 

And  finally  in  the  Basset  Table — 

*  Tell,  tell  your  grief;  attentive  wiU  I  stay. 
Though  time  is  preeions,  and  I  want  some  tea.* 

Shepherd.  A  body  might  think  frae  the  rhymes,  that  Pop  had 
been  an  Eerishman.* 

North,  Now,  my  dear  James,  remember  your  promise — that  you 
will  allow  me  to  play  first  fiddle  as  long  as  the  urn  hisses — or,  as 

*  The  Irisk,  to  irhom  Engliih  wu  orifintlly  a  fortifn  lanfiiag*,  hart  jwobably  prwiTtd 
Uie  broad  and  full  pronnnoiaiion  of  Uie  ToireU,  aa  thty  orifisallj  heaxd  it,  htfon  and  daring 
Uie  vitiU  of  Sponocr  ajad  Raleif  h.  80.  Uia  naaal  ntterance  affpcted  by  the  English  puritaai 
darint  the  earlr  part  of  the  eeTenteenth  oentnnr,  wu  brought  orer  hj  The  Pilnim  Fathea, 
and  inaiotalne  ItMlf,  in  Amerioe,  paztionlarly  irhere  thej  eettled,  to  this  daj.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


OSIOUr  OF  POBTBT.  137 

Wordsworth  says  of  the  kettle  on  the  fire,  ^  murmurs  its  sweet 
undersong." 

Shepherd,  Play  awa  then,  sir — but  dinna  you  foi^et  that  I  am  to 
do  the  same  thing  after  sooper.  Try  to  be  as  little  wearisome  as 
you  can,  and  first  plump  anither  lump  o'  loaf-sugar  intil  my  baishin. 

North.  Why,  James,  you  not  only  said  you  were  for  no  more 
tay,  but  turned  up  your  cup  and  laid  your  spoon  across  — 

Shepherd,  You  re  leein* — I  did  nae  sic  thing — or  if  I  did,  I  noo 
draw  back,  and  eat  in  my  words  — 

North,  Why,  after  eating  in  so  much  multifarious  and  multitudi- 
nous bread,  I  should  think  you  will  find  that  no  easy  matter  — 

Shepherd,  Do  ye  ca'  that  playin'  the  first  fiddle  ?  Gie  ower  at- 
temptin'  bein'  wutty  the  nicht,  sir,  for  you've  never  recovered  your- 
self after  fa'in  intil  yon  pun.  It's  an  easy  matter  for  ane  that's  nae 
conjuror  to  swallow  the  staff  o'  life.  But  ^'  leave  off  your  damna- 
ble faces  and  begin. *• 

North,  Won't  you  allow  me,  my  dear  Shepherd,  a  half  caulker  ? 

Shepherd.  Na — but  '11  aloo  you  a  haill  ane — and  as  ae  freen' 
canna  do  anither  a  greater  service  than  to  show  him  a  gude  example 
— up  goes  my  wee  finger — 

(The  Shepheed  upsets  the  Bottle — the  bottle  upsets  the  urn — the 
urn  upsets  the  teapot — the  teapot  upsets  the  coffee-pot^  the  coffee* 
pot  upsets  the  cream-jug^  and  the  Murder  (/  the  Innocents  is 
brought  to  a  catastrophe.  Enter  Mb.  Ambrose  and  Household, 
in  great  agitation,) 

Omnes.  Oh!  oh!  oh!  oh!  oh!  oh! 

North,  Calm  'mid  the  crash  of  the  whole  Empire  of  China,  I  lean 
upon  my  crutch. 

Shepherd,  A  meeracle — a  meeracle!  I've  wrought  a  meeracle. 
The  cheeny,  though  frail  and  fair  as  crancreuch,  has  nae  sae  much  as 
ae  sasser  chipped  on  the  rim.  No  an  atom  broken.  A'  that  belangs 
to  The  Magazine  is  imperishable. 

Ambrose,  Wonderful — most  wonderful !  {Exit  with  his  tail,) 

Shepherd,  Noo,  sir — begin  your  lecture. 

North.  The  origin  of  poetry  is  only  to  be  investigated  in  the 
principles  and  demands  of  human  nature.  Wherever  man  has  as- 
serted his  humanity,  we  find  some  sort  of  composition,  oral  or 
written,  spontaneous  or  premeditated,  answering  to  the  general 
notion  of  the  poetic.  Authentic  history  informs  us  of  no  time  when 
poetry  was  not ;  and  if  the  divine  art  has  sometimes  sung  its  own 
nativity  it  is  in  strains  which  confess  while  they  glorify  ignorance, 
The  sacred  annals  are  silent,  and  the  heathens,  by  referring  the  in- 
vention of  verse  to  the  gods,  do  but  tell  us  that  the  mortal  inventor 
was  unknown. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


128  K0CTE8  AHBBOSIANJL 

SkepfienL  Of  airts,*  as  of  men,  the  beginnings,  sir,  are  commonly 
too  weak  to  remember  themsells.  As  therefore  the  Hrst  nian  could 
never  have  learned  but  by  express  revelation,  whence  he  was,  or  hoc 
and  when  he  began  to  be — so  does  the  obscurity  that  invests  the 
original  of  poetry  seem  to  me  to  evince  its  primeval  nobility. 

North,  Good,  James.  In  all  the  legends  of  antiquity,  history, 
allegory,  and  arbitrary  fiction,  are  inextricably  interwoven.  Vain 
were  the  attempt  to  unravel  the  complex  tissue,  and  to  sort  the 
threads  according  to  their  several  shades  of  truth  and  falsehood.  To 
borrow  the  pleasing  illustration  of  one  who  was  himself  more  poet 
than  historian,  the  truth  that  has  been  in  fabulous  tradition,  is  like 
the  dew  of  morning  for  which  we  may  look  in  vain  beneath  a 
scorching  noon. 

Shepherd,  Gin  poetry  be  "  the  spontaneous  overflow  of  powerful 
feelings,  regulated  by  an  internal  law  o'  order  and  beauty,"  why 
inquire  after  its  origin  at  a'?  Wherefore  doubt  that  it  was  heard  in 
Paradise,  that  it  expressed  the  loves,  the  joys,  the  devotions  of  our 
first  parents  in  those  happy  days,  sir,  when 


Often  from  the  steep 


Of  echoing  hill  or  thicket  they  have  beard 
Celestial  voices  to  the  midnight  air, 
Singing  their  great  Creatoi' — 

•  •  •  • 

Lowly  they  bow'd,  adoring,  and  began 
Their  oiispiM,  each  morning  duly  paid 
In  various  st^le ;  for  neither  various  style, 
Nor  holy  rapture  wanted  they  to  praise 
1'heir  Maker  in  fit  strains  pronounced  or  song 
Unmeditated,  such  prompt  eloquence 
Fluw'd  from  their  lips,  in  prose  or  numerous  ftsmt. 
More  tunable  than  needed  lute  or  harp 
To  add  more  sweetness  1 

North.  No  less  beautifully  than  aptly  recited,  my  dear  Shepherd. 
But  if  by  a  poet  we  mean  an  artiit^  an  artist,  James,  who,  by  the 
voluntary  exercise  of  a  certain  faculty,  according  to  certain  rules, 
produces  semblances  of  the  emanations  of  native  passions,  which, 
though  ever  high  and  rapturous,  are  no  longer  absolute  reality,  but 
always  pure  and  happy,  refined  and  exalted  semblances  for  purposes 
of  delight  and  edification,  then  may  it  not  safely  be  assumed  that 
music  and  poetry  were  of  coeval  birth,  twin  streams  from  one  foimt- 
ain,  how  widely  soever  their  currents  may  since  have  diverged. 

Shqyherd,  That^s  it  to  a  hair,  sir. 

North,  The  ear  is  endued  with  an  instinctive  sense  of  proportion, 
and  is  naturally  delighted  with  a  sweet  sound,  as  the  eye  with  a 

•  Tk«  word  MirU  Agnitm  '*  Ui«  point*  of  tlio 


Digitized  by 


Google 


OBIOIN   OF  POBTBT.  129 

brilliant  hue,  and  the  palace  with  a  luscious  savor.  The  elements 
of  rhythm  and  raelody  exist  in  language  itself,  and  in  the  modula- 
tions of  the  untutored  voice. 

Shepherd,  And  are  they  no  perceived  in  the  sang  o'  birds,  in  the 
fa'  o'  waters,  in  the  mounting  swell  and  dying  cawdence  of  the 
wund  — 

North,  In  the  repeated  percussion  of  sonorous  bodies  — 

Shepherd.  In  the  murmur  o'  the  sea,  in  the  hum  o'  distant  and 
mighty  multitudes  ? 

North,  Metrical  arrangements  frequently  occur,  you  will  observe, 
James,  in  common  conversation,  and  are  readily,  perhaps  most 
readily,  perceived  by  children.  Nor  can  it  be  doubted,  that  man,  in 
the  childhood  of  the  race,  was  feelingly  alive  to  such  casual  music, 
and  eager  to  reproduce,  by  imitation,  those  concords  at  once  so  new 
and  so  delightful. 

Shepherd.  That's  verra  ingenious  and  verra  true,  sir. 

North.  In  the  first  ages  a  few  and  slight  hints  were  sufficient  to 
evoke  the  idea  of  an  art,  though  to  realize  and  develope  it,  an  indefi- 
nite period  of  time,  and  many  auxiliary  circumstances,  might  be 
necessary.  In  cultivated  life,  man  resembles  certain  equestrian 
tribes,  who  live  so  perpetually  on  horseback,  that  they  almost  forget 
how  to  walk.  We  lose  the  faculty  of  invention  by  relying  on  the 
inventions  of  others,  as  musicians  who  play  constantly  from  the 
book,  are  often  at  a  loss  to  recall  the  simplest  strain  by  the  unas- 
sisted ear. 

Shepherd,  That's  the  case  wi*  a'  first-rate  fiddlers. 

North,  But  in  the  beginning  it  was  not  so.  Had  our  forefathers, 
like  us,  depended  on  rules  and  instruments  of  art,  James,  how  could 
art  or  instruments  have  been  discovered  ? 

Shepherd,  Never  till  the  end  o'  time,  sir. 

North.  Yet  I  am  not  disposed  to  refer  the  origin  of  Poetry,  or  of 
any  worldly  faculty,  to  immediate  revelation. 

Shepherd,  Nor  me  neither.  Kevelation  does  not  authoreese  sio 
an  inference,  and  wad  scarcely  do  that  for  man,  which  natur  and 
reason  enable  him  to  do  for  himsell. 

North.  But  I  do  believe,  James,  that  the  same  Providence  who 
makes  a  blind  man's  touch  a  substitute  for  sight,  and  mercifully 
supplies  the  defect  or  absence  of  one  member  by  the  preternatural 
activity  of  some  other,  bestowed  on  the  patriarchs  of  human  kind  a 
finer  tact,  a  more  wakeful  eye,  and  ear,  and  heart,  than  we,  their 
later  progeny,  possess. 

Shipherd,  Oh !  that  we  twa  had  been  antediluvians ! 

North.  Seated  in  a  luxuriant  clime,  with  just  enough  of  natural 
wants  to  stimulate,  not  exhaust  their  industry,  blest  with  undege- 
aerate  vigor,  and  antediluvian  length  of  days,  our  first  ancestors 
Vol.  III.— 10 


Digitized  by 


Google 


1|{0  NO0TB8   AMBB08IAKJL 

had  both  leisjre  and  aptitude  to  become  inventors — to  improve 
every  suggestion  of  chance  and  nature.  An  old  tradition  ascribes 
the  first  hint  of  musical  notes  to  the  strokes  of  a  hammer  upon  the 
anvil — an  ingenious  fancy,  which  derives  some  countenance  from  the 
scriptural  record,  that  Jubal,  '*  the  father  of  all  that  handle  the  harp 
and  organ,"  was  half-brother  to  Tubal-Cain,  "the  instructor  of  ever j 
artificer  in  brass  and  iron/' 

Shepherd,  Baith  being  sons  o'  Lamech. 

North.  Nor,  James,  should  we  too  scornfully  reject  the  pretty 
tales  of  the  Gentiles,  the  chorded  shell  of  Hermes,  and  the  wax- 
cemented  pipe  of  the  wood-god — since  they  serve  at  least  to  prove 
from  how  small  an  urn  Antiquity  conceived  the  stream  of  harmony 
to  flow. 

Shepherd,  Verse,  if  it  didna  precede  instrumental  music,  would 
follow  close  ahint  it,  I  suspeck. 

North,  Now,  James,  suppose  a  certain  measure  or  measures  once 
discovered,  to  accommodate  them  with  the  words  would  be  both 
easy  and  obvious.  Early  bards  are  very  unceremonious  in  forcing 
language  into  a  predetermined  mould.  Accent,  quantity,  and 
orthoepy,  yield  to  the  spirit  of  music — and  words  are  set  extempore 
to  the  tune. 

Shepherd,  Just  sae,  sir — just  sae— carry  on. 

North,  Unfixed  languages  are  pliant  and  supple,  James,  as  an 
infant's  limbs. 

Shepherd,  And  that's  soople  eneuch. 

North,  The  versification  of  a  semi-barbarous  people  is  oflen  com- 
plex and  various,  and  only  becomes  simple  and  uniform  when  lan- 
guage has  done  growing,  and  critics  have  broken  it  into  orderly 
paces.  The  prosody  of  the  Welch  constitutes  a  curious  and  difficult 
topic  of  antiquarian  discussion,  and  the  ancient  Runic  boasted  of 
more  than  a  hundred  and  twenty  measures. 

Shepherd,  That's  no  verra  mony. 

Nor  til.  There  is  a  time  when  a  poet  can  shape  the  language  to  his 
thoughts,  and  then  comes  a  time  when  he  must  shape  his  thoughts 
to  the  language. 

Shepherd,  A  true  antithesis,  sir. 

North,  The  poet  of  the  first  period  is  truly  a  maker^ — the  versifier 
of  the  second  must  be  a  rare  genius,  if  he  be  more  than  a  eampoten 

Shepherd,  Capital! 

North.  In  the  age  of  Orpheus  or  Homer,  language  was  like  the 
prima  materiea  of  ancient  metaphysics. 

Shepherd.  What  the  devil  is  that? 

North,  A  something  that  yet  was  nothing. 

Shepherd.  Eh] 

North.  Capable  of  all  forma,  confined  by  no  actual  shape,  but 


Digitized  by 


GooqIc  j 


FOinOAL  IN8PIBATI0N.  181 

plastlo  as  the  Armless  element,  which  some  fine  spirit  might  choose 
for  a  temporary  vehicle. 

Shepherd,  O  sir!  but  you  are  getiin'  fearsomely  profoon* ! 

North,  Language  is  the  first-bom  of  the  human  intellect,  and,  too 
oommon  case,  the  child  is  become  the  tyrant  of  the  parent. 

Shepherd,  A  parridde  1     Unnatural  monster ! 

North,  But  once  it  was  obedient,  and  then,  instinct  with  divine 
sense,  and  following  the  paces  of  music,  which,  in  all  its  wild  excur- 
sions, and  labyrinths  of  sound,  still  grows  out  of  «unity,  and  when 
farthest  off,  is  still  returning  to  unity,  it  became  poetry. 

Shepherd,  A  pike-staff*'s  a  joke  to  that  for  plainness 

North.  As  soon  as  measure  was  applied  to  significant  sounds,  we 
may  suppose  that  its  convenience,  as  a  technical  remembrancer, 
would  insure  its  adoption  by  all  whom  choice  or  need  made  public 
speakers,  especially  in  nations  to  whom  writing  was  unknown,  or 
not  generally  known.  Even  the  most  prosaic  subjects — History, 
Legislation,  Science — were  anciently  sung  to  the  lyre ;  nor  could 
the  real  poets,  who  were  prompted  by  a  commanding  impulse  to 
sway  the  minds  of  their  compatriots,  &il  to  observe  the  influences 
of  melody,  and  court  its  alliance. 

Shepherd,  Alloo  me  to  tak  anither  caulker,  sir.— Noo,  I'm  ready 
for  you  again. 

North,  The  wonderfiil  effects  which  Grecian  fancy  attributed  to 
the  strains  of  Orpheus  and  Amphion,  should  not  be  ascribed  solely 
to  hyperbolical  metaphor  and  baseless  fiction. 

Shepherd,  There  never  was  a  baseless  fiction. 

North,  No  fiction,  unless  imposed  by  authority  on  the  conscience 
of  men,  could  ever  obtain  general  credence,  if  it  be  not  symbolical 
of  truth. 

Shepherd,  Truth's  the  essence — Fiction  the  form.  Poets  in  eai'ly 
times  never  claimed  the  merit  of  inventing  stories. 

North,  Excellent,  James !  The  ancients  pretended  a  bona  fide 
inspiration,  and  the  romancers  of  the  middle  age  refer  to  their 
authorities  with  more  than  historical  ostentation.  They  relate 
wonders,  because  themselves  believe  them  probable,  and  their 
audiences  are  delighted  to  think  them  true. 

Shepherd,  For  my  ain  pairt,  I  can  believe  ony  thing. 

North,  But  to  court  admiration  by  professed  audacity  of  &lsehood, 
is  the  device  of  a  palled  and  superannuated  age. 

Shepherd,  When  Time  is  in  his  dotage,  like. 

North,  While  the  limits  of  possibility  are  undefined,  the  little  that 
is  seen  will  procure  credit  for  all  that  can  be  conceived.  The  early 
Greeks  were  conscious  of  the  power  of  music  over  mind,  and  there- 
fore readily  believed  in  its  power  over  matter. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


I 


132  NOCTE8   AMBBOSIAN^. 

Shepherd.  The  transition's  easy  to  creturs  like  us  o'  a  mixed 
nature. 

North,  How  great,  James,  must  have  been  the  sway  of  harmony, 
among  a  people  who  could  suppose  it  imperative  over  insensate 
nature,  potent  to  '•  uproot  the  fixed  forest,"  to  stay  the  lapse  of  waters, 
to  charm  deaf  stones  to  motion  and  symmetry,  and  change  the  sav- 
agery of  brutes  to  mildness  and  obedience  !  Nor  should  that  later 
and  more  learned  fable  be  forgotten,  which  imagines  an  eternal  con- 
cert of  the  universe,  a  ceaseless  "  dance  and  minstrelsy "  of  the 
never- wearied  stars. 

There's  not  the  smallest  orb  which  thoa  bebold'stk 

But  in  its  motion  like  an  aogel  sings, 

Still  quiring  to  the  young-eyed  cherubim — 

Such  Harmony  is  in  immortal  souls ; 

But  whilst  this  muddy  vesture  of  decay 

Doth  grossly  close  it  m,  we  cannot  hear  it» 

Shepherd,  Vm  sure  that  maun  be  Shakspeare,  sir. 

North.  No  other  mortal.  Then,  James,  in  a  more  moral  vein  the 
great  Theban  — 

Shepherd.  And  wha's  he  ? 

North,  Pindar.  He  ascribes  to  music  the  power  of  stilling  and 
soothing  the  sternest  of  immortal  natures — hear  him  in  his  first 
Pythian  ode. 

Shepherd,  Ye  maunna  spoot  Greek  upon  me,  my  dear  sir. 

North,  No,  James.     Hear  him  in  English. 

My  harp  of  gold,  that  eloquently  pleadeet 

For  young  Apollo,  and  the  dark-hair'd  maids, 

That  sanctify  Pierian  glades, 

Sovereign  of  the  numbered  measure, 

Thou  the  gladsome  motion  leadest 

Of  merry  dance,  the  prime  of  pleasure. 

Dunce  and  song  obey  thy  bidding, 

Every  maze  of  mus:c  thrilling ; 
When  thrilling,  trembling  through  thy  vocal  wiree^ 
Thou  sound'st  the  signal  to  tlie  festive  choirs ; 
And  thou  canst  quench  the  wuiring  thunder  brand 
Of  fire  immortal.     On  Jove's  "  sceptred  hand" 
The  Monarch  Eagle  sleeps,  o'erpowor*d  by  thee. 
And  the  sweet  impulse  of  thy  melody. 
His  beaked  head  a  dusky  slumber  shrouds 
Like  a  soft  curtain  o'er  bis  sunlit  eve ; 
And  each  stronc:  pinion,  wont  to  cleave  the  clouds, 
Close  by  his  side,  hangs  loose  and  lazily ; 
A  languid  grace  his  hther  back  assumes, 
And  wavy  curls  pla^  o'er  his  ruffled  plumes, 
Yea,  the  rough  soldier  Ood,  the  lustv  Mars, 
Forgets  the  rugged  vigor  of  his  might, 
The  hurtling  lances,  and  mad-whirrinc^  oars, 
And  oalms  his  heart  with  drt>wsy,  dull  delight. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


POETRY   OF  THE  GREEKS.  188 

For  thy  eDchantmeDt,  fioely  wrought, 

CoDtrols  the  Gods,  and  charms  eteroal  thought ; 

By  the  sa^e  art^  Latona's  son  iDfuses, 

By  the  wise  skill  of  those  deep-bosom'd  Muses. 

But  dark,  and  evil,  and  unholy  things. 

Whom  God  not  loTes.  they  shudder  at  the  strain ; 

The  blessed  strain  the  blessed  Goddess  sings 

Od  earth,  and  all  throughout  the  vast,  unoonquerable  main. 

What  do  you  think  of  that,  ray  dear  Shepherd. 

Shepherd.  That's  as  gude  poetry's  ever  I  heard  in  a'  my  born 
days.  O,  sir,  you're  a  master-mason  in  buildin'  up  the  lofty  rhyme. 
Gie  us  a'  Pindar  in  English. 

North,  Perhaps.  The  marvels  of  song  and  melody  were  not  con- 
fined to  Greece.  We  have  unerring  testimony  that  in  a  holier  land, 
a  really  inspired  minstrel  could  restore  a  distracted  soul  to  reason, 
and  assuage  the  agony  of  judicial  madness. 

Shepherd.  David  harping  before  Saul ! 

North.  The  truth  is,  James,  that  antiquity  possessed  a  livelier 
sense  of  harmonious  combinations  than  the  moderns,  with  all  their 
refinement,  can  easily  conceive.  The  very  habit  of  judging,  disput- 
ing, and  comparing  the  merit  of  various  composers,  materially 
weakens,  if  it  does  not  utterly  destroy,  the  influence  of  the  composi- 
tion. A  critic  may,  indeed,  be  delighted  with  the  science  of  the 
work,  and  the  skill  of  the  performer,  but  has  little  perception  of  thft 
simple  self-oblivious  rapture,  the  entranced  faith  of  childhood  and 
unsophisticated  nature.  He  cannot  be  pleased,  "he  knows  not  why, 
and  cares  not  wherefore ."  His  satisfaction  is,  perhaps,  more  intel- 
lectual and  permanent,  but  it  is  far  less  intense. 

Shepherd.  The  raptures  o'  a  musical  cognocenti  never  seem  to 
me  to  be  sincere — the  cretur's  aye  proof  o'  himsell,  and  cries, 
"  Whist! "  to  the  like  o'  us  for  ruffin',  with  an  intolerable  insolence, 
for  which  he  would  be  cheap  o'  gettin'  himsell  knocked  doon,  or 
kicked  out  o'  St.  Cecilia's  \h\\ 

North.  Of  the  Greeks,  it  may  be  held,  that  they  retained,  amid 
the  highest  cultivation,  that  intelligent  susceptibility  to  numerous 
sound,  which  deified  the  Muses,  and  ascribed  to  the  same  young  and 
beautiful  power,  the  origin  and  dominion  of  Light  and  Harmony. 

Shepherd.  Moumfu*  music's  unco  like  moonllcht. 

North.  More  than  one  philosopher  has  deemed  music  a  fit  subject 
of  legislation,  and  innovators  were  doomed  to  exile  and  dishonor. 

Shepherd.  That  was  carryin'  the  matter  rather  ower  far. 

North.  Something,  perhaps  a  great  deal,  James,  i«  to  be  allowed 
for  the  superior  delicacy  of  southern  organization  ;  much  is  to  be 
Bet  down  to  the  close,  and  almost  inseparable  union  of  music  with 
sublime  and  impassioned  words. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


184  VOCTES  AXEBOBIASJSL 

Shepherd,  O'  a'  the  senses,  hearing  seems  to  be  nuiist  at  the 
mercy  o'  memory.  How  often  have  a  few  bars  o'  some  weel-kent 
air,  though  aiblins  "  whistJed  for  want  o'  thought,**  charmed  back 
the  feelings  o'  departed  years,  makin'  us  smile  or  weep,  we  know 
not  why  1  Mony  a  time  hae  I  dighted  my  een,  when  a'  at  anoe  the 
sang  o'  some  lunely  lassie  liltin'  by  hersell,  has  brought  the  spirit  o' 
auld  times  ower  the  dowie  holmes  o'  Yarrow,  and  filled  the  haill 
Forest  wi'  a  lament  roair  ruefu'  than  belanged  or  could  belang  to 
the  scenes  or  sufferins  o*  this  waukin'  warld ! 

North.  Beautiful,  James.  Then  the  Greeks,  a  hearing^  not  a 
reading  people,  cultivated  their  native  sensibility  of  ear  till  it  became 
as  feelingly  discriminative  of  audible^  as  their  eyes  of  visible  beauties. 
Their  language,  so  picturesque  and  imitative,  had  doubtless  a  strong 
reaction  on  that  frame  of  intellect,  that  constitution  of  society  oat  of 
which  it  grew.  As  they  seldom  studied  foreign  tongues,  their  own 
appeared  rather  as  the  living  body  of  thought  than  its  conventional 
sign,  and  was  polished  to  a  degree  of  refinement  which  its  natural 
vigor  preserved  from  effeminacy,  and  the  logical  shrewdness  of  the 
speaker  from  florid  emptiness. 

Shepherd,  Do  you  think,  sir,  its  ower  late  for  me  to  b^n  learn- 
ing Greek  1 

North,  Rather.  Need  we  then  wonder,  Theocritus,  at  the  achieve^ 
ments  of  Grecian  eloquence  and  Grecian  song,  or  rashly  discredit 
the  recorded  efl^ts  of  glorious  imaginations  expressed  in  a  language 
of  all  others  the  most  eloquent  and  poetical,  wailed  on  "  sweet  air," 
to  the  souls  of  a  people,  who  craved  for  beauty  and  melody  with  a 
lover's  longings ! 

Shepherd,  What  was  their  music  like  ? 

North.  That  it  was  simpler  than  ours,  more  confined  fai  compass, 
less  rich  in  combination,  might  not  render  it  less  popularly  effective. 
It  was  not  for  chromatic  ears ;  it  was  probably,  in  its  rudiments,  a 
measured  imitation  of  the  tones  and  inflexions  of  the  human  voice, 
under  the  modulation  of  strong  feelings.  By  seeming  to  follow  the 
movements  of  passion,  it  guided  and  foshioned  them.  It  was  a  oon- 
tinuous  variety,  a  multitudinous  unity — for  ever  new,  and  still  the 
same.     It  was  Novelty  wooing  Memory. 

Shepherd.  It  was  Novelty  wooin*  Memory!  That's  verra  dis- 
tink. 

North,  A  profound  thinker  has  said,  that  the  man  of  genius  is  he 
who  retains,  with  the  perfect  faculties  of  manhood,  the  undoubting 
faith  and  vivid  impressions  of  the  child.  If  the  same  characteristic 
may  apply  to  a  nation,  as  to  an  individual,  then  were  the  Greeks  a 
nation  of  geniuses. 

Shepherd,  Just  as  the  Scotch  are  a  nation  o'  gentlemen.* 

*  It  is  reported  [by  th«  Scotch]  that,  when  Georf*  IV.  rkited  Edinlmrgh,  in  IBX*,  amd  oaw 


Digitized  by 


Google 


THE  YOirrH  OF  NATIONS.  185 

North.  In  their  most  advanced  oivilization,  in  the  strongest  matu- 
rity of  their  national  life,  they  retained  much  that  makes  childhood 
amiable,  and  much  which  only  childhood  can  excuse. 

Shepherd,  I  like  to  hear  about  the  Greeks  and  Romans  at  a' 
times. 

North.  The  keen  relish,  the  delightful  feeling  of  freshness  con* 
necced  with  the  most  familiar  things,  which  is  the  joy  and  privilege 
of  children,  preserved  the  simplicity  of  their  taste  when  their  man- 
ners were  become  corrupt — ^like  children,  they  looked  on  the  visible 
with  a  aatisiiaction, 

That  had  no  need  of  a  remoter  oharm 
Unborrowed  from  the  eye. 

And  if  they  dreamed  of  unseen  lands,  their  dream  was  but  the  re- 
flection of  their  daily  experience. 

Shepherd.  Were  they,  on  the  whole,  what  you  could  ca'  real  gude 
chiels  ? 

North,  With  a  fine  perception  of  the  loveliness  of  virtue,  James, 
and  little  sense  of  the  imperative  obligation  of  duty,  they  were  con- 
tinually striving  to  realize  their  fancies,  and  mistook  vivid  concep- 
tions for  rational  convictions. 

Shepherd,  A  dangerous  delusion. 

North,  They  had  all  the  docility  which  results  from  a  susceptible, 
sympathizing  nature,  and  all  the  obstinacy  which  denotes  an  unsub- 
dued will.  They  were  alike  impatient  of  external  control,  and 
incapable  of  controlling  themselves;  therefore  easy  to  persuade,  and 
difficult  to  govern. 

Shepherd,  You  seem  to  be  hand  in  glove  with 

North,  Credulous,  imitative,  Tolatile,  (ickle,  and  restless — oflen 
cruel  from  mere  restlessness,  and  the  childish  desire  of  seeing  the 
effect  of  their  own  superfluous  activity,  yet  as  readily  swayed  to 
mercy  as  to  cruelty — selfish  from  the  want  of  fixed  principle,  and 
generous  from  the  intermitting  fever  of  sympathy — of  all  mankind 
tiie  most  ingenious,  and  perhaps  of  cultivated  nations,  the  least  wise 
— they  exhibit  a  glowing  picture  of  the  world's  minority,  of  that 
period  which  enjoys  the  perfection  of  all  faculties,  but  has  not 
learned  to  use  them. 

Shepherd,  I  canna  understand  the  youth  o'  a  nation  at  a',  sir. 

North,  While  speaking  of  the  youth  of  nations,  James,  let  ua 
protest  against  an  error  on  which  much  false  and  some  impious 
speculation  is  grounded.  Be  it  not  supposed,  in  the  teeth  of  reason, 
revelation,  and  all  recorded  experience,  that  primeval  man  was  a 
savage,  with  all  his  energies  subservient  to  the  wants  and  appetites 
of  the  hour. 

how  deoorondy  the  paople  oonductad  themselToa  as  his  retinne  slowly  ptsMd  through  tho 
erowdod  strsets.  he  exolauned,  *'  The  Scotch  are  a  natioa  of  genttemeB.'*— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


136  KOCTTES  AHBKOGULNJL 

Shepherd.  It's  an  ugly  creed,  hoosomever,  and  i  canna  swallow  it 
for  scunnerin*. 

North.  Savage  life  is  always  improgressive,  scarce  capable  of  re- 
ceiving, far  less  of  originating,  improvement.  Every  country  affords 
but  too  many  proofs,  that  Man,  even  in  the  midst  of  polite  and 
learned  cities,  may  sink  to  a  mere  unclean,  ferocious  animal.  But 
where  is  there  a  single  instance,  James,  of  the  being,  thus  degraded, 
resuming  his  proper  nature  without  extraneous  aid?  Savages 
must  needs  be  degenerate  men,  withered  branches  torn  from  the 
trunk  of  society,  and  cast  by  wind  and  waves  upon  incommunicable 
shores. 

Shepherd.  'Faith,  you've  read  your  Bible  to  some  purpose.  The 
erudite's  aye  orthodox. 

NortJi.  It  is  not  among  such,  though  even  they  have  their  fero- 
cious war-whoops,  their  lascivious  dances,  their  fierce  howls,  haply 
remnants  of  some  abortive  and  forgotten  civilization, — it  is  not 
with  these  that  we  would  look  upon  poetry  in  its  cradle ;  but  with 
man  as  he  issued  from  Eden,  fallen  indeed,  unaccommodated,  un- 
learned, but  endued  with  adult  faculties,  quick  perceptions,  and 
noble  aspirations,  eager  to  learn,  and  apt  to  imitate,  finding  in  all 
things  an  image  of  himself,  feeling  reciprocal  sympathy  between  his 
own  heart  and  universal  nature,  and,  whether  from  reminiscence,  or 
from  hope,  or  both,  as  beseems  **  a  creature  of  such  large  discourse 
looking  before  and  after,"  still  yearning  afler  something  more  true, 
more  good,  more  beautiful  than  himself,  or  aught  that  sense  sub- 
jected to  himself,  which  yet  was  dimly  reflected  in  himself,  and, 
**  was  the  master  light  of  all  his  seeing."  Thus  knowing  his  nobleness 
by  his  infirmity,  and  exalted  by  his  profoundest  abasement,  man 
erected  the  fabric  of  immortal  song. 

Shepherd,  There's  no  anither  man  leevin'  capable  o'  sayin*  sic 
fine  things  sae  finely,  sir ;  and  I  do  indeed  verily  believe — never 
having  heard  Mr.  Guleridge — that  you  are  the  maist  eloquent  dis- 
courser,  especially  if  naebody  interrupts  you  wi'  questions,  noo  ex- 
tant.*    You  are  indeed,  sir.     Let  me  hear  you  define  poetry,  sirl 

North,  Perhaps  I  cannot.  There  have  been  many  definitions  of 
Poetry,  most  of  them  containing  part  of  the  truth,  some  perhaps 
implying  the  whole  truth,  but  almost  all  either  partial  and  imper 
feet  in  themselves,  or  imperfectly  developed. 

Shepherd,  I  used  ever  before  last  Tuesday,  when  a  schoolmaster 
tauld  me  better,  to  think  that  Poetry  was  synonymous  wi'  Verse. 

North,  Strange  as  it  might  sound  to  critical  ears  to  call  As  in 
vresenti  a  poem,  still  it  may  not  irreverently  be  asked,  what  besides 

*  Thii  wu  precitelj  Coleridge^i  mode  of  eonversatum.  You  were  at  fiall  liberty  to  listen, 
bat  it  wu  high  Ireuon  to  ntter  a  word,  to  the  intermption  of  hie  monologues.  However, 
drosmj  and  mTstical  as  they  were,  it  must  be  confesMd  tney  were  wonderful  in  lanfuafe  ani 
sugfestive  of  thought,  if  not  always  logically  thougbtral  in  themseWes.—M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


WHAT  CONSTITUTES   A  POEM  ?  137 

verse  divides  Poetry  from  Prose,  from  Eloquence,  from  the  ordinary 
converse  of  life  ? 

Shepherd,  The  Dominie  did  not  tell  me  that,  though. 

North.  Certainly  not  the  subject-matter ;  for,  unlike  the  works  of 
philosophy  and  science,  a  poem  is  generally  composed  of  the  same 
matters  which  make  up  the  sum  of  our  daily,  unlearned  talk — the 
appearances  of  nature,  the  acts  and  accidents  of  human  existence,  the 
Infections  that  are  native  to  all  bosoms.  If  the  poet  sometimes 
introduces  supernatural  agents,  fabulous  deities,  ghosts,  witches, 
fairies,  and  genii,  for  many  ages  the  homeliest  firesides,  in  fearful 
earnest,  told  of  the  same  ;  and  the  imagined  influences  of  such  beings 
form  a  considerable  part  of  the  prose  history  of  the  planet. 

Shepherd,  Why,  sir,  the  Brownie  o'  Bodsbeck*  — 

North,  In  the  plain  matter-of-fact  conceptions  of  many  genera- 
tions, James,  Minerva  was  as  real  a  personage  as  Ulysses,  and  the 
Weird  Sisters  no  less  historical  than  Macbeth. 

Shepherd,  Perhaps,  sir,  the  diction  o*  poets,  apart  from  metre, 
will  supply  the  essential  character  required. 

North,  No,  my  dear  James.  Those  critics  who  have  pretended 
to  give  recipes  for  the  compounding  of  poems,  are  very  diffuse  oc 
this  head  of  diction,  and  availing  themselves  of  the  peculiar  facility 
afforded  by  the  Greek  language  to  word-coiners,  have  given  names 
to  almost  every  form  into  which  words  can  be  fashioned  or  dis- 
torted,— 

For  all  a  RhetoriciaD's  rules 
Teach  nothlDg  but  to  name  hie  tools. 

But  among  all  these  tropes,  figures,  skemata,  or  whatever  else  they 
may  be  called,  there  is  not  one  to  which  the  poet  can  lay  an  exclu- 
sive claim. 

Shepherd,  The  distinction's  no  in  the  diction  then,  sir  ? 

North,  Certainly  not,  James.  Most  of  them  are  mere  arbitrary 
departures  from  common  sense,  grammar,  and  logic,  extremely  rife 
in  the  mouths  of  persons,  who,  from  passion,  ignorance,  or  confused 
intellects,  forget  one  half  of  their  sentence,  before  they  have  uttered 
the  other — figures  which  poets  have  imitated  with  more  or  less  pro- 
priety, but  of  which  they  are  neither  inventors  nor  patentees. 

Shepherd,  What  say  you,  sir,  to  Metaphors'? 

North,  The  Metaphor,  the  only  figure  which  adds  to  the  wealth 
of  speech  (most  others  indeed  are  the  shifts  of  poverty)  and  to  which 
all  others  that  have  any  real  beauty  or  fitness  may  be  reduced,  con- 
stitutes a  large  portion  of  every  spoken  language,  as  must  be  obvi- 
ous to  any  one  who  will  analyze  a  few  of  the  simplest  sentences  he 
may  hear  from  the  dullest  person  he  knows. 

*  Oo«  of  Hogg'a  proM  romancas.—M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


138  lifOCTEa   A3CBB03LAJf.K. 

Shepherd.  Thnt's  the  way  wi'  Jock  Lioton^ — ati  i<l|Ot  — 

North,  The  fdct  \^  wo  use  figures  sm  tViif|iK'i)Lly  that  they  ceaee 
to  afiect  ua  as  such*  The  Jfinguage  of  the  n idlest  riationg  and  of  the 
most  uneducated  individuals,  is  alwavf^  most  palpably  figurative, 
becAUise  their  vocttbubrj  is  too  narrow  to  faruish  a  ijiuffioieucy  of 
prop*tr  terms,— and  because  they  are  unacquainted  with  that  artifi- 
cial diaiuct^  which  phijosophers  have  iiivcfiUjd,  m  the  bootlesa 
endeavor  to  avoid  figures*  Bootless  indeed!  for  a^ler  all^  the  lan- 
guage of  Cheinii^try,  of  Metiiphysics^  even  of  Miitheuiaties^  h  even 
inortt  figurative  thau  that  of  Oratory  or  Poetry, 

tShfpherti,  Is  that  possible  ? 

N^trth,  There  art  more  tropes  in  a  page  of  Euclid  or  Aristotle 
than  in  a  whole  book  of  Homer. 

Shcphfrd.  Surely,  sir,  Fhilosophy  has  a  dialect  dlfforent  frae  thd 
coujmuu  venuicalar  idiom  ? 

Xofik,  James^  the  com  in  on  vernacular  idiom  is  so  esse  at  tally 
tropicals  thatj  if  we  except  the  names  of  sensuous  objectti,  Ihere  is 
not  a  single  term  or  phrase  that  was  not  originally  metaphorio  ; 
unkpa  we  exclude  a  few  abstractions  strayed  from  the  s^ohook^  such 
ftb  t^iAaiitity,  Quality,  Relation,  Predicament,  &e.,  which,  though 
now  ian^ilijir  as  If  and  But,  were  of  scholastic  mintage,  and  proba- 
bly ^  when  first  issued,  sounded  as  strange  and  pedanfie  as  Idiosyti* 
erasy,  Idt^ality,  or  any  modern  compound  of  the  Traiiiceiideht^Hsts 
and  Phrenologists*  The  truth  of  the  position,  thougli  evident 
etiiiugh,  is  yet  more  striking  lit  primitive  unmixed  languages,  rucIi 
as  the  Grtick  and  Hebrew,  than  in  our  ow^n,  which,  being  derivativa 
and  htnerogenuous,  often  borrow^s  a  word  in  the  secondary  sense 
only.  Thus,  we  pronounce  the  word  Virtue  without  being  conscious 
that  it  is  related  to  Force  or  Manhood  j  and  talk  of  a  Jejune  Styls 
w  i  tlKi  u  t  thinking  of  P  h}-  si  ca  I  I  nan  i  tion . 

Shepherd.  N  a— there  J  am  thrown  out  entirely,  and  can  follow 
you  no  latiger. 

North.  The  diction,  then,  of  Poetry,  in  all  its  component  parts, 
]s,  and  mu&t  be,  the  same  as  that  of  Prose — not  al^^aysc^f  iouit 
prose,  which  is  tfften  abstract  and  technical,  but  of  the  plain  un- 
meditated prose  of  actual  iiff^  and  btisiness. 

Shepherd.  I'm  wcel  disposed  to  believe  that,  if  I  could. 

I^orth.  You  do  believe  it,  James,  and  act  upon  it,  both  in  oral  and 
written  discourse.     You  speak  poetry^  my  dear  Shepherd* 

Shf^pherd,  Vm  glad  ye  think  sae,  sir.     8ae  do  ye, 

iVorih.  Nor  does  it  at  all  invalidate  my  argument  that  certain  ex- 
pressions or  particular  words,  in  process  of  time,  become  peculiar 
to  metrical  composition,  or  that  many  words  and  phrases  have  beep 
invented  by  poets  which  never  obtained  general  currency*  Every 
form  of  speech,  a  very  noun,  verb,  and  particle  must  have  been  first 


Digitized  by 


Google 


PABfilON  Am>  POETBT.  189 

Uttered,  at  8om«  time,  by  somebody — just  as  all  the  fashions  of 
dress,  which  the  many  assume  to  avoid  singularity,  must  once  have 
been  singular.  The  question  is  not,  whether  poets  do  not  introduce 
more  new  fashions  into  language  than  other  men,  but  whether  any 
particular  &shion  is  the  constant  and  dbtinctive  uniform  of  Poetry. 

Shepherd,  That's  the  pint 

North,  Some  composers  in  metre  have  essayed  an  ornate  or  ex- 
otic style,  and  some,  like  Henry  Moore,  the  Platonist,  have  inserted 
in  couplets  and  stanzas  the  contents  of  the  Scientific  Glossary ;  but 
these  are  only  to  be  regarded  as  experimenters  on  established  dic- 
tion ;  nor  could  their  innovations  strike  root  in  poetry,  though  they 
long  kept  possession  of  book  prose. 

Shepherd,  What  say  you,  sir,  to  poetical  leeshanses  ? 

North.  As  to  what  are  called  poetical  licenses,  they  are  either 
acknowledged  transgressions,  or  remnants  of  old  liberty,  protected 
by  the  precedaits  of  such  great  models  as  were  produced  before 
language  was  reduced  to  rule.  Such  licenses  may  be  convenient — 
they  may  be  agreeable,  because  they  have  agreeable  associations ; 
but  they  no  more  constitute  a  poetic  dialect,  thm  the  mole,  "  cinque- 
spotted  "  on  the  bosom  of  a  beautiful  woman,  constitutes  an  order 
of  beauty. 

Shepherd,  Say  that  simile  ower  again — it's  maist  beautifu'. 

North,  Since,  then,  neither  the  matter  nor  the  expression  of  Poe- 
try specifically  differs  from  that  of  Prose,  where  shall  we  find  the 
distinctive  character  % 

Shepherd,  Heaven  knaws. 

North,  It  has  been  said,  Poetry  is  passion.  Is  there,  then,  no 
passion  in  Prose  ?  None  in  ordinary  conversation  ?  Are  Poets  the 
only  men  who  feel  and  express  Love,  Admiration,  Pity,  Hate,  Scorn? 
Or  is  every  man,  when  be  feels,  expresses,  and  imparts  these  emo- 
tions, pro  tempore  a  poet  ? 

S/iepherd,  That's  a  reductio  ad  absurdo. 

North.  Passion  may  indeed  divide  Poetry  from  abstract  science, 
but  surely  not  from  Oratory,  hardly  from  History,  which  can  neither 
be  written  nor  read  without  some  interest  in  the  recorded  acts,  some 
sympathy  with  the  agents,  some  feeling  of  apprehension  that  what 
has  been  may  be  again. 

Shepherd.  It  seems  to  me,  sir,  to  be  ae  thing  to  say  there  is  nae 
Poetry  without  Passion,  and  anither  thing  to  say  that  Passion 
makes  Poetry. 

North,  You  have  hit  the  nail  on  the  head,  my  dear  James.  Mat- 
ters in  which  the  vital  sentient  nature  of  man  is  uninterested,  pro- 
positions to  the  truth  or  falsehood  of  which  the  heart  is  indifferent, 
belong  as  little  to  the  poet  as  to  the  moralist.  There  may  be  neces- 
sary parts  of  ft  poem  in  which  there  appears  to  be  no  passion,  but 


Digitized  by 


Google 


140  KOCTES   AMBROBlAHja 

these  are  no  more  Poetry,  than  the  hair,  nailsj,  or  other  insensate 
furniture  of  the  bad}%  are  pariakers  of  animal  lile.  Passion,  then, 
is  an  esst<nlial  cli:iment  of  Pt>etry,  but  not  its  detormiaing  or  excJu 
sive  property. 

Shepherd.  1  wonder  where  this  philosophical  inquiry  o*  ours  ie  to 
end. 

NoTtK  Many  poetij  and  more  critics,  have  taken  for  granted  that 
the  Passions  which  the  po*Jl  feels  and  cominunicatey  are  the  same  as 
the  FuHfeionii  he  tlescribt-s,  or  different  only  in  degree  and  duration 
— tlitit  the  affoctions  exciied  by  Poetiy  are  the  same  as  tho&e  exci- 
ted by  real  events  in  real  life— and  that  the  intensjity  of  these  emo- 
tions is  tfiL^  criterion  of  poetic  txeellence» 

Shepherd,  And  are  they  not,  sir?     Are  you  gaun  to  deny  thati 

North.  The  generality  of  prose  tragedies,  suijh  as  George  Bam* 
well  and  ibe  GaniesLer,  and  almost  the  whole  class  of  seiitiraental 
novel 9  and  crying  ct.>njedies,  are  constructed  upon  this  principle — 
productions  always  pernicii^us*  so  far  as  they  are  effective,  and  not 
least  penileious  when  I  hey  appeal  most  powerfully  to  those  sensi- 
bilititfs,  which,  in  their  natural  healthful  ej^crcise,  are  the  best 
prompter B  of  virtue* 

Shepherd.  1  think  but  little  o'  sic  plays  as  them  — 

JVyriA,  The  Mame  assumption  has  induced  some  writers  to  dis- 
card the  use  of  metre,  and  whatever  else,  In  matter  or  expression^ 
might  remove  Poetry  from  the  sphere  of  daily  doings  and  sufierings. 
Hence,  too,  the  enennes  of  the  Muse  have  tjikcn  occasion  to  cen- 
sure puets  as  evil  citizens,  corrupters  of  youth,  allies  of  ain,  nour- 
ishers  of  those  rebellious  frailties  which  it  is  the  office  of  reason  to 
conderim,  and  of  religion  to  subdue.  Would  that  no  poets  really 
deserved  the  imputation  !  But  all  the  greatest  human  poets  must 
deserve  it,  if  it  be  ti  ue  tliat  poetry  excites  the  commtfU  pas&ions,  or 
is  itself  the  growth  of  such  passioat:  ^  for  the  new  didactic  and  de- 
scriptive authors  who  might  escape,  possess  the  very  name  of  poets 
by  a  very  duijious  tenure.  Then  must  it  follow  that  the  worst 
regulated  minds  are  the  mosi  poetical. 

Sh^plierd.  That's  powerfu'  reaaonin^  and  anither  reductio  od 
absurdo. 

North,  *'*The  vision  and  the  faculty  divine**  would  then  have  to 
be  wooed,  not  in  silence  and  seclusion,  in  the  calm  of  nature^  or 
amid  the  sweet  amenities  of  social  life,  but  in  the  sunless  skulking- 
holes  of  high- viced  cities — id  the  carnage  of  the  lost  battle — at  iha 
sack  4 if  long-besieged  towns — in  the  sellish  turmoil  of  revolution — 
among  smugglers,  conspirators  and  banditti — at  the  mad  gaming- 
table— in  lunatic  asylums,  and  wherever  else  man  grows  worse  timn 
bt^abt, 

Sheflm-d,  Gurney — Guniey — be  sure  you  t4Lk  that  doon  correok. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


INSPIRATION.  141 

North.  This  strange  error,  James,  seems  to  arise  from  two 
sources : — First,  from  ignorance  or  forgetfulness,  that  there  is  a  spe- 
cj6c  poetic  passion,  pervading  every  faculty  of  the  true  poet  while 
in  the  exercise  of  his  function,  and  communicated  to  his  *'  fit  audience'* 
— which  is  neither  irascible  nor  concupiscible,  neither  earthly  love, 
nor  joy,  nor  mere  human  pity,  far  less  anger,  fear,  hate,  pain,  re- 
morse, or  any  other  infirmity  that  "  flesh  is  heir  to.'*  This  is  the 
muse  of  ancient  bards — the  poetic  madness • 

Shepherd,  It  is — it  is — I've  felt  it  a  thousan'  times. 

North,  This  passion  is  no  more  confined  to  any  separable  portion 
or  portions  of  a  poem,  than  the  soul  of  man  to  any  particular  member 
of  his  body.  It  is  all  in  eyerj  part,  but  cannot  be  detected  in  any. 
It  cannot  be  exhibited  in  an  abstract  form,  nor  can  it  manifest  itself 
at  all,  except  by  animating  and  informing  the  imagination — or  by 
assuming  the  shape  of  human  passion,  in  which  it  becomes,  as  it 
were,  incarnate,  and  confers  beauty,  power,  glory,  and  joy,  on  its 
earthly  vehicle. 

Shepherd,  Glorious — perfectly  glorious !  {Aside) — Wull  he  never 
be  dune  ? 

North,  As  the  pure  elemental  fire  of  Heraclitus  was  supposed  to 
be  essentially  impalpable  and  invisible,  but  to  act  on  the  senses 
through  ordinary  fire  as  its  medium,  or  as  light  which  contains  all 
colors,  is  itself  colorless,  and  indistinguishable  from  clear  vacancy. 

Shepherd,  Beautiful — ^perfectly  beautiful !  (Aside) — What'n  non 
sense ! 

North,  It  may  be  objected,  that  the  word  Passion  is  unfitly  applied 
to  a  purifying  energy  ;  but  the  poverty  of  language  supplies  no  bet- 
ter term  for  those  acts  of  the  soul  that  are  independent  of  volition ; 
and  whether  to  good  or  to  evil,  carry  man  beyond  and  out  of  himself. 
Perhaps,  however,  we  may  be  permitted  to  use  a  term,  without 
claiming  for  profane  or  modem  poets,  that  divine  afflatus  which  the 
prophetic  bards  enjoyed,  and  the  earlier  Heathen  songsters  declared, 
and  probably  believed,  themselves  to  enjoy — a  term  which 

Shepherd,  Inspiration — sir — that's  the  term. 

North,  It  is.  Let  the  metaphysician  determine,  whether  this  pas- 
sion, energy,  or  Inspiration^  be  a  cause  or  an  effect,  whether  it  fecun- 
dizes  the  imagination  with  poetic  forms,  or  results  from  the  organi- 
zation of  the  forms  themselves.  We  know  that  the  forms  oflen 
remain  in  the  charnel-house  of  passive  memory  when  there  is  no 
spirit  to  animate  them;  but  whether  the  spirit  pre-exists  or  survives 
in  a  separate  state,  we  have  no  means  of  ascertaining ;  nor  is  the 
question  of  more  importance  to  poet  or  critic,  than  a  somewhat  sini- 
ilar  and  much-agitated  problem,  to  the  anatomist  and  physician.  It 
is  enough  for  us  to  know,  by  the  evidence  of  our  consdousness,  by 
phenomena  else  contradictory  and  inexplicable,  that  the  poetic  spirit, 


Digitized  by 


Google 


142  NOCT]£B  AlCBBOSIANiB. 

the  Itix  luctfictu  of  the  imagination,  aets^  and  therefore  w.  What  it 
b,  or  how  it  came  to  be,  we  are  as  indifferent  as  we  are  ignorant. 
Our  concern  is  with  the  laws  by  which  it  acts,  and  the  forms 
through  which  it  is  revealed — and  therefore  1  may  now  proceed 
James {Tlie  trumpet  biotas  for  supper.) 

Shepherd,  Mercy  on  us — is  that  the  sooper  trumpet  1  I  declare 
on  ray  honor  and  on  my  science,  that  though  you  maun  hae  been 
speak  in'  for  twa  hours,  the  time  did  na  seem  aboon  ten  minutes  at 
the  langest. 

North,  We  have  had  a  most  delightful  twa-haundit  crack,  my 
dear  James — but  I  fear  I  may  have  been  occasionally  rather  tire- 
some. 

Shepherd.  Tiresome !  you  tiresome ! — I  never  saw  you  brichter 
in  a'  my  days — sae  clear,  sae  oonceese,  and  sae  short !  O,  sir,  you 
are  indeed  an  oracle. 

North,  I  hope  that  I  have  lefl  no  part  of  the  subject  involved  in 
the  slightest  obscurity  ? 

Shepherd.  As  you  kept  speakin',  sir,  the  subject  grew  distinker 
and  distinker — till  it  was  overflowed  or  rather  drooned  in  licht;  just 
like  a  mountainous  kintra  that  has  been  lang  lyin'  in  Scotch  mist,  till 
the  sun,  impatient  o'  his  cloudy  tabernacle,  after  some  glorious  glim- 
merin'  araang  the  glooms,  comes  walking  out  o'  the  front  door  o'  his 
sky -palace — and  glens,  rivers,  lakes  and  seas,  a'  at  ance  revealed,  sing 
and  shine  homage  to  the  Meridian  Apollo. 

North.  The  subject,  James,  is  one  which  I  have  studied  deeply, 
for  half  a  century — and  I  hope  you  will  not  make  any  use  of  my 
ideas. 

Shepherd.  Use  o'  your  ideas,  sir !  no  me.  I  ken  the  value  o* 
your  ideas,  sir,  owcr  weel,  ever  to  mak  use  o'  ony  o'  them. 

North,  A  work  in  Four  Quartos,  James,  on  the  Principles  oi 
Poetry,  would 

Shepherd.  Hae  a  great  sale — there  can  be  no  doot  o'  that  You 
shouldna  let  Mr.  Blackwood  hae  the  copyright  under  fower  thousan* 
guineas  at  the  verra  least  — 

North,  Will  you,  my  dear  James,  have  the  goodness  to  look  over 
a  thousand  or  fifteen  hundred  pages 

Shepherd.  O'  the  MSS.  1 

North.  And  give  your  candid  opinion 

Shepherd,  I  shall  be  maist  prood  and  happy  to  do  sae,  sir. 
(Aside.) — ^Tibby  '11  singe  fools  wi'  them. 

(The  supper-trumpet  sounds.) 

North,  (springing  to  his  feet,)  That  trumpet  stirs  my  soul  like  tho 
old  ballad  of  Chevy  Chaoe. 

Shepherd,  <*  HIb  pleasure  in  the  Soottiah  woodi 

Three  fummer  dayi  to  take  T 


Digitized  by 


Google 


GKUTQH  EXEBOISB.  148 

Ob,  but  tbese  twa  lines  are  in  tbemsera  a  poem.  Wbat'n  a  boun- 
din'  o'  deer  and  glancing  o'  arrows,  and  soundin'  o'  horns,  and  — -— 

North.  Take  my  crutch,  James — I  can  walk  without  it  to  the 
supper-room.     Follow  me,  my  dear  James. 

Shepherd,  Goon — Pll  follow  thee. — {Aside) — What  unconceiva- 
ble, unoomprehensible,  and  unexpressible  nonsense  has  he  been 
toomin'  out,  about  poetry  and  a'  the  rest  o\ ! — and  that  he  ca's 
playin'  the  first  fiddle!  Poor,  silly  auld  man!  What  a  smell  o' 
roastin !  Take  care,  my  honored  sir — take  care — father — take  care. 
Dinna  slip  on  the  ile-daeth.  (Exeunt  Amho.) 

SCENE  II.— T^  Octagon. 

Enter  Mr.  Ambrose,  with  a  roasted  hare  ;  Kino  Pepin,  toitk  a  brace 
of  grouse  ;  Sir  David  Gam,  with  a  hen-pheasant ;  Tapitoury,  with 
the  cold  rovnd,  and  hoys  with  supplementary  dishes.  Then  enter 
North,  with  a  very  slight  limp,  and  back  gently  curved,  with  the 
bottle  under  one  arm,  and  the  Dutch  Dram-case  under  the  other  ; 
followed  by  the  Shepherd,  apparently  very  lame,  hobbling  along  on 
the  Crutch,  and  imitating  the  Old  Nonpareil,  like  a  MaUiews, 

North,  Stand  out  of  the  way,  Ambrose. 

Shepherd.  Staun  out  o'  the  way,  Ambrose— or,  **  with  my  staff 
Pll  make  thee  skip." 

North.  Where's  Crutch  1 

Shepherd.  Here.  Wou'd  you  like,  sir,  to  see  me  gang  through 
the  manual  and  platoon  exercise  ? 

North.  Shoulder  The  Crutch,  and  show  how  fields  are  won  ! 

Shepherd.  That  way  o'  giein'  the  word  would  never  do  on  paraud. 
Shoother  hoof! 

(The  crutch  flies  out  of  the  Shepherd's  hand,  and  hits  Tapitoury 
on  the  sconce,  and  Kino  Pepin  on  the  shins,  Mr.  Ambrose  him^ 
self  making  a  narrow  escape.) 
Confoun'  me,  gin  the  Timmer  did  na  loup  out  o'  my  haun  o'  its  ain 
accord,  instinck  wi'  speerit,  like 

North,  Aaron's  rod.  Why,  James,  let  Mr.  John  Lockhart,  and 
Mr.  Francis  Jeffrey,  and  Mr.  Thomas  Campbell,  and  Mr.  Charles 
Knight,*  and  other  editors  of  credit  and  renown,  lay  down  their 
walking-sticks  on  this  floor,  during  a  Noctes,  and  Crutch  will  swallow 
them  all  up,  to  the  discomfiture  of  their  astonished  owners,  the 
magicians. 

Shepherd,  Be  seated,  sir,  be  seated — what  a  savory  smellin'  sooper 
ggemm   niaks !     What  can  be  the  reason  that  there's  uae  tholiu' 

*  At  this  time,  Lookhart  edited  the  QunrUrl^  RmUw.  Jeffrey  the  Edinburgk^  Cunpbell  the 
Xtw  JUcntUf  MagaxiiUi  and  Chiirl«*«  Knight  the  London. — M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


144  Nocrrss  ahbbosiai^^ 

pootry,  gin  they  be  stinkiD'  ever  sae  little,  while  ggemm  on  the 
ither  haun  's  no  eatable,  unless  they're  gaen  Strang  ? 

North,  Say  grace,  James. 

Shepherd,  I've  said  it  already. 

North.  I  never  heard  it,  James. 

Shepherd,  Aiblins  no — but  I  said  it  though — "  Grod  bless  us  in 
these  mercies"— only  when  the  ee's  greedy  the  lug's  deaf. 

North.  James,  within  these  few  weeks,  how  many  boxes  of  game, 
think  ye,  have  been  sent,  directed  to  Christopher  North,  Esq.,  care 
of Ambrose,  Esq.,  Picardy  Place,  Edinburgh? 

Shepherd,  Some  dizzens,  I  dinna  doubt. 

North,  Mr.  Ambrose  % 

Ambrose,  Eight  boxes  of  grouse,  four  of  black  game,  two  of  ptar 
migan,  twelve  of  partridges,  three  of  pheasants,  and  one-and-twenty 
hares.  Yesterday,  arrived  from  Killarney,  the  first  leash  of  wood- 
cocks ;  and  really,  sir,  I  have  kept  no  account  of  the  snipes. 

Shepherd.  That's  fearsome. 

North,  At  least  three  times  that  amount  of  fur  and  feathers  has 
found  its  way  to  the  Lodge.  I  gave  John  a  list  of  the  names  of 
some  hundred  or  so  of  my  particular  friends,  alphabetically  arranged, 
with  orders  to  distribute  all  over  the  Old  and  New  Town,  setting 
aside  every  sixth  box  for  my  owji  private  eating,  and  it  was  with 
difficulty  we  got  rid  of  the  incumbrance,  at  the  allowance  of  three 
brace  of  birds  and  a  hare  to  each  family  of  man  and  wife  with  four 
children  and  upwards ;  two  brace  of  birds  and  one  maukin  to  each 
family  with  three  mouths ;  one  brace  or  a  hare  to  every  barren 
couple ;  and  a  single  bird  to  almost  every  maiden  lady  of  my 
acquaintance. 

Shepherd,  It's  the  like  o'  you,  sir,  that  deserves  presents. 

Ambrose.  Then,  sir,  the  red  deer,  and  the  two  roes. 

Shepherd,  Hoo  did  you  get  through  the  red  deer,  sir  % 

North,  I  sent  it,  James,  hide  and  horns,  to  that  ancient  and  illus- 
trious body,  the  Caledonian  Hunt. 

S/iepherd.  An'  the  Raes  1 

North,  One  of  them  I  eat  myself — and  the  other,  which  had  got 
maggoty,  I  buried  in  the  garden  beneath  my  bank  of  heaths,  which 
I  expect  next  year  to  glow  like  the  western  heavens  at  sunset. 

Shepherd,  You  maun  leev  at  sma'  expense 

North.  A  mere  trifle ;  and  then,  you  know, 

I  do  Dot  eat  but  little  meat, 
My  stomach  is  not  good. 

Shepherd.  But  you  oao  drink  with  any  ha, 

That  ever  wore  a  hood 


Digitized  by 


Google 


AN  editor's  larpkb.  145 

North,  Glenlivet  comes  pouring  in  upon  me  at  a  rate  never  to  be 
overtaken.  The  last  anker,  per  Cromarty  packet,  from  my  most 
excellent  friend  Millbank,  I  tasted  this  morning  before  breakfast,  and 
it  excels  any  thing  of  the  kind  I  can  ever  hope  to  enjoy  on  this  side 
of  the  grave 

Shepherd,  Is't  the  same  way  with  wines,  ales,  and  porter  ? 

North.  Almost.  Whitbread,  though  a  VVhig,  is  a  fine  fellow,  like 
his  father  before  him,*  and  his  annual  butt  is  true  as  the  swallow  to 
the  spring.  What  with  my  Edinburgh  and  Leith  friends,  Messrs. 
Berwick  and  Giles,  the  Secretary  of  the  Shakspeare  Club  at  Alloa, 
and  the  Town  Council  of  Peebles,  my  ale  cellar  is  a  reservoir  that  is 
never  dry — and  as  for  wines,  it  is  pleasant  to  be  reminded  by  pipe  or 
hogshead,  that  the  visit  of  Christopher  North  is  not  forgotten  on  the 
Tagus  or  the  Rhine 

Shepherd.     Are  you  no  tellin'  me  a  pack  o'  lees  ? 

North.  Why,  James,  it  is  the  first  time  I  ever  heard  my  veracity 
called  in  question. 

Shepherd.  Folk  never  ken  what^s  their  character  in  the  warld. 
Thousans  maintain  that  you  never  spak  ae  word  o'  truth  at  the  Noctes 
a'  the  days  o'  your  life. 

North.  Poo  !  Nor  arc  the  largesses  of  my  dear  Public  confined  to 
vivres  alone — but  include  all  articles  of  wearing  apparel — cloth  shoes 
for  my  gouty  foot— quarter,  Wellington,  and  top-boots,  James — 
lambswool  stockings — comforters — wrist-ruffs — flannel  for  drawers 
— and  you  would  stare  to  see  the  inside  of  my  closet  of  Kilmarnock 
nightcaps.  My  leading  article  for  September  brought  me  from  Man- 
chester, one  piece  of  fustian  for  jackets,  and  another  for  breeches, 
measuring  each — I  speak  chiefly  from  conjecture — from  fifly  to  a 
hundred  yards — for  after  unrolling  from  the  pin  for  a  good  quarter 
of  an  hour,  I  was  called  down  stairs  by  Helen,  and  fustian  and  veU 
veteen  remain  unmeted  to  this  day.     Some  hare,  James  1 

Shepherd.  1*11  just  tak  the  ither  groose. 

North.  Then  as  for  razors — I  have  specimens  of  all  the  cutlery  in 
the  kingdom — a  blade  for  every  day  in  the  year. 

Shepherd,  Three  hunder  and  sixty-five  rauzors  ! 

North.  Upon  the  supposition  that  you  may  shave  twenty  times 
with  one  razor,  without  sending  it  to  be  set,  I  shall  not  need  to  trouble 
that  matchless  artist,  Mr.  Macleod  in  College-street,  for  twenty 
years. 

*  Samn*!  Whitbread.  fon  and  raeoenor  of  an  extantire  brewer  in  London,  tat  in  parliament 
for  the  boTOQgh  of  Bedford,  for  many  yearn,  and  waa  one  of  the  most  Vigorons  opponents  of  Mr. 
Pitt.  He  waa  one  of  the  leaden  of  the  Whi;;  rartr,  and  conducted  the  impeachment  of  Lord 
Melrillc,  in  )8U5.  He  wan  married  to  J<ord  Grey  ■  siRter  He  -wom  an  actire  member  of  the 
Committee  under  whoee  superinuodence  Drunr  Lane  Theatre  was  rebuilt,  after  it*  destruction 
bj  fire.  In  1815  he  died  by  his  own  hand.  Mr.  whitbread's  aon  (here  mentioned  by  North)  waa 
M.  P.  for  Middlesex  from  18*20  to  1830,  and  his  |^r%ndson  has  sat  for  Bedford  since  1853  — M 

Vol.  in.— 11 


Digitized  by 


Google 


146  KOOTBS  AMBBOSIAKJB. 

Shepherd,  Your  baird  'ill  be  mingled  wi'  the  mools  long  afore  that, 
I  fear,  sir. 

North.  No  tears,  James — no  tears. 

Shepherd.  Nae  tears  !  Hoo  can  I  help  the  water  frae  staunin'  in 
my  ee,  when  the  back  of  the  groose  is  sae  hell-het  wi'  kjean  pepper  1 
It's  waiir  than  an  Indian  curry.  Oh  !  man,  but  a  hare  makes  a  curi- 
ous skeleton  ! 

North,  You  are  satirical  on  my  appetite,  James — but  remember  I 
am  dining  now. 

Shepherd,  You  seem  to  me,  sir,  to  be  breakfastin',  lunchin*,  dinin', 
takin'  your  four-hours,  and  sooper  a'  in  ane  and  the  same  meal — and 
oh  !  but  you're  a  Rabiawtor. 

North,  Sir  David,  bring  me  a  stewed  snipe  or  two. 

Shepherd.  Do  the  moths,  sir,  ever  get  in  amang  your  claes  ? 

North,  Do  they  not  ?  It  was  only  last  Saturday  night,  that  I  had 
rung  the  bell  for  Shoosy,  that  we  might  wind  up  the  clock — * 

Shepherd,  The  clock  in  the  trans.  Oh !  man  !  but  she's  a  gran' 
ticker — and  has  a  powerfu'  pendulum. 

North,  To  my  amazement  Shoosy  was  in  tears — absolutely  sob- 
bing— and  covering  her  white  face  with  her  apron. 

"  Then  cheered  I  my  £ur  spouse,  and  she  was  cheered* 

Shepherd,  What!  Hae  you  married  your  housekeeper  1  la 
Shoosy  your  spouse? 

North,  A  mere  quotation,  James — and  Tickler,  you  know,  insists 
on  every  quotation  being  verbatim  et  literatim — correct  — 

Shepherd,  That's  unco  silly  in  him — and  he  must  ken  better  what's 
the  privileged  practice  in  that  respeck  o'  wuts  and  orators — ^but  the 
question  is,  hae  your  claes  suffered  frae  moths  1 

North,  Shoosy,  James,  had  that  afternoon  been  overhauling  one 
of  the  chests  of  drawers,  in  which — my  clothes-closets  being  all  full 
— we  are  necessitated  to  stow  away  some  of  our  apparel — and,  on 
coming  to  the  bottom  drawer,  which  she  opened  on  her  knees,  by  all 
that  is  transitory,  the  moths  had  drilled  their  way  clean  down 
through  a  devil's  dozen  pair  of  breeches,  including  one  of  doe,  and 
two  of  buckskin  I 

Shepherd,  That  must  hae  been  a  tryin'  discovery  to  the  faithfu' 
cretur  !  I  see  her  on  her  knees — wi'  clasped  hauns — ^as  if  sayin'  her 
prayers. 

North,  The  claret-colored  breeches,  in  which  Christopher  North 
was  so  much  admired  by  the  King — God  bless  him — when  he  kept 
court  in  Holyrood — "  were,"  said  Shoosy,  "  when  1  held  them  up 

*  For  an  explanation  of  the  phraM  **  winding  np  the  dock,'*  vide  Triatrun  Shandy .~M 


Digitized  by 


Google 


IBIBH  0&A.T0B8.  147 

between  me  and  the  light,  oh,  master,  master — ^in  the  bottom  part 
like  a  very  sieve  !" 

Shepherd.  Maist  distressin' !  for  mendin'  moth-eaten  olaes  is  per- 
fecklj  impossible.  But  may  I  mak  so  free,  sir,  as  to  ask,  hoo  mony 
pair  o'  breeks  you  think  you  may  chance  to  hae  % 

North.  I  have  every  one  single  pair  of  breeches,  James,  that  have 
been  made  for  me  since  I  came  of  age.  They  may  amount — bat,  to 
use  the  language  of  the  trade,  I  have  not  taken  stock  for  some  years 
— to  some  four  or  five  hundred  pair. 

Shepherd.  Do  you  mean  pairs  or  cooples?  For  five  hunder 
coople^s  double  five  hunder  pair — a  pair  o'  breeks  bein'  singular,  and 
a  coople  of  coorse  bein'  plural. 

North,  Pardon  me,  James,  but  I  cannot  agree  with  you  in  think- 
ing a  pair  of  breeks  singular,  except  indeed,  in  the  Highlands,  where 
the  genius  of  the  language  — 

Shepherd.  Bring  me  some  stewed  snipes,  too,  Tapitoury. 

Tapitoury.  Oh  yes !     {Absconds.) 

Shepherd.  Gin  I  thocht  that  imp  was  mockin'  me,  I  wad  pu'  his 
lugs  for  him — 

North.  What  is  your  opinion  now,  James,  of  Irish  affairs  1 

Shepherd.  What  the  deevil  hae  I  to  do  wi'  Eerish  affairs?  You're 
gettin^  crazy  about  Eerish  affairs  a'thegither  — 

North.  Not  quite.  But,  all  that  is  necessary,  I  verily  believe,  to 
get  starlc  staring  mad  about  them,  is  to  pay  a  short  visit  to  Ireland, 
and  gulp  a  few  gallons — not  of  her  whisky,  James,  but  merely  of 
her  atmosphere. 

Shepherd.  It'll  be  a  kind  o'  gas  that  maks  folk  dafl  « 

North.  Look  with  a  discerning  spirit  over  the  seven  millions, 
and  you  will  find  that  the  more  capacious  the  lungs,  the  madder  the 
man.  There  are  Dan  O'Connell,  and  Eneas  MacDonnell,  and  Pur- 
cell  O'Gorman,*  and  sundry  other  tremendous  Os  and  Macs,  each 
of  whom  has  capacity  for  at  least  a  hog.^head  of  atmosphere  between 
back  and  breast-bone,  which  they  spout  forth  in  speech,  as  madly 
as  the  whales  do  the  water,  when  they  leap  and  play  in  the  Arctic 


Shepherd.  But  is  na'  Sheil  a  sma'  imp? 

North.  True.  But  Dicky,  being  a  man  of  diminutive  proportions, 
has  just  enough  of  madness  to  make  him  mischievous,  and  no  more. 
He  can  point  it,  as  you  would  the  index  of  a  weather-glass,  to  the 
precise  circumstances  of  the  time.  He  weighs  his  periods  in  his 
study,  with  the  nicety  of  an  apothecary  in  his  shop,  and  models  his 
madness  into  not  unskilful  tropes,  which  even  please  the  &ncy,  when 
one  can  forget  the  mischief  of  the  intention.f 

*  0*CoDii«n  &nd  O'Oonn&n  -vrtre  large-framed  men.    The  former  remarkably  lo.    Ene«« 
MacDoDnell  is  tall,  but  bj  no  mAani  deep-ohested. — M. 
t  In  the  Britiah  Islands  if  it  be  thought  that  an  orator  commits  his  speeches  to  memory,  a 


Digitized  by 


Google 


148  NOCTES   AHBBOSIANiB. 

Shepherd.  Let  us  howp  that  it  is  upon  natives  alone  that  the  in* 
flaence  of  the  Irish  atmosphere  has  this  strange  effeck. 

North.  Nay,  James,  send  over  the  soberest  Englishman  or 
Scotchman  to  Ireland,  and  unless  from  great  care  and  a  diligent 
use  of  counteracting  medicines,  in  the  course  of  no  long  time  he 
gets  as  wild  as  the  rest ;  and  in  just  proportion  to  the  capacity  of 
his  lungs,  and  the  number  of  hours  which  he  passes  in  the  dear 
open  air. 

Shepherd.  Is  that  what  they  ca'  a  yippidcmic  ? 

North.  It  is.  Look  at  Lord  Anglesey,  what  a  changed  man,  since 
he  has  been  given  to  riding  about  amongst  the  mountains  and  the 
Milesians  of  Munster  1*  Mr.  Peel  was  very  little  touched  while 
in  Ireland,  because  he  took  care  to  come  over  frequently  and  take 
large  draughts  of  English  atmosphere ;  but  even  he  wanted  to  have 
a  pistol-shot  at  Dan  O'Connell,  in  which  desire  the  said  Daniel  not 
appearing  very  warmly  to  participate,  the  Right  Honorable  Secre- 
tary was  suffered  to  exhale  his  fit  of  Irishism,  without  risk  of  homi- 
cide, upon  the  flats  about  Calais.f  Mr.  Goulburn,  again,  escaped 
without  the  least  touch  of  Irishism  ;  but  the  reason  was,  that  he 
was  always  at  work  in  his  office — he  did  not  go  abroad,  and  he 
brought  over  a  quantity  of  official  atmosphere  from  England,  in 
which  he  lived,  and  moved,  and  had  his  being,  during  his  residence 
in  the  sainted  isle. 

Shepherd.  We  never  heard  o'  Mr.  Goolbum  in  the  Forest — but 
he  may  be  a  very  clever  man  for  a'  that.| 

North.  It  follows  from  all  this,  James,  that  as  the  Irish  in  Ireland 
are  all  mad,  and  as  the  English  sent  over  there  are  so  very  likely 
to  become  so,  it  would  be  very  proper  that  the  English  government 
should  take  the  affairs  of  Ireland  more  immediately  into  their  own 
hands,  and  if  the  Roman  Catholics  must  have  an  Association,  they 
should  be  made  to  hold  their  club  in  London,  where  the  change 
of  air,  and  experienced  keepers,  would,  no  doubt,  have  the  most 
beneficial  effects. 

Shepherd.  There's  plenty  o'  Eerishmen  in  this  kintra  already, 
without  bringing  ower  the  Association.  But  let  ony  sane  man 
(some  one  who  has  arrived  from  Holyhead  the  same  morning)  walk 

eontomptaoQt  opinion  of  him  is  nraaJly  •ntortained.  Extempore  ipeaking  is,  indeeJ,  the 
rule,  and  prepared  speeches  the  exception,  not  only  &t  the  bar.  on  the  hustings,  and  at  publie 
meptings.  but  also  in  Parliament.  Brilliant  as  Sheirs  speeches  vere,  thej  had  little  dTeot 
u-  on  his  auditors,  because  they  were  prepared.  — M. 

*  The  Msrqnis  of  Anclesej,  (who  died  April  *29,  1854.)  was  Lord  Lientenant  of  Ireland 
dming  the  yesr  1823.  atid  again  from  Norember.  lb3U,  to  September,  1833.— M. 

t  Peel  -was  Secretary  for  Ireland  from  lbl*i  to  ItiiS,  and,  tsJcing  offence  at  some  personality 
spoken  by  O'Connell,  sent  him  a  challenge  to  fight  a  duel,  which  was  accepted.  Peel  went 
wer  to  Calais,  beyond  the  jurisdiction  of  hngland.  but  O'Connell  was  arrested  in  London,  on 
his  way  to  France,  and  bound  over  to  keep  ihe  peace,  whereby  tae  duel  was  prerented.  — M. 

}  Uenry  Goulburn,  Secretary  for  Ireland,  from  l&H  to  I»*2S.  has  also  been  Cnancellor  of  the 
Exchequer  and  Home  Secretary,  under  Wellington  and  Feel.  He  is  a  laborious  but  by  no 
means  a  clever  man. — M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


CATHOLIO  ASSOCIATION.  149 

into  sic  a  place  as  an  Eerishman's  Association  maun  be  on  the  day 
of  a  debate,  and  he'll  no  need  to  wonder  that  the  wild  yet  imposin' 
orgies  are  productive  o'  political  madness,  independent  o'  the  atmc* 
sphere,  which  nae  doubt  helps.  Grupp  either  me  or  you  even,  and 
lock  us  up  in  a  madhouse  wi'  raving  maniacs,  and  it'll  soon  need  a 
stout  chain  and  a  stiff  strait- waistcoat  to  keep  us  down  to  the  floor 
o'  our  cell. 

North,  This  process  goes  on  in  Ireland  every  day  in  the  year. 
Suppose  you  walk  into  the  Association  while  the  dry  reports  about 
rent  and  so  forth  are  being  read,  there  is  an  air  of  importance  and 
legislative  authority  about  the  assembly  which  carries  you  away 
from  the  reality  of  things  before  you.  Men  speak  of  "the  other 
House,"  meaning  thereljy  the  Imperial  House  of  Lords,  and  no  one 
laughs,  or  seems  to  think  it  an  absurdity  or  a  blunder. 

Shepherd.  And  yet,  sir,  it  is  'maist  as  absurd  as  if  a  set  o'  noisy 
neer-do'Weels  sittin'  in  the  Royal  Hotel,  after  the  races,  were  to 
liken  themsells  to  us  o'  the  Noctes,  sittin'  here  in  "the  ither 
house." 

North,  But  what  is  all  this  to  the  speech-making?  The  other 
day  an  Englishman  of  the  name  of  Williams  got  up  and  talked  a 
considerable  portion  of  good  sense — not  fearing  to  say  even  there 
that  the  Duke  of  Wellington  was  "  neither  a  fool  nor  a  coward  " — 
and,  according  to  the  rational  course  pursued  by  people  brought  up 
where  the  air  does  not  make  them  mad,  he  recommended  temper 
and  moderation.  Up  started  a  young  Irish  maniac,  or  barrister,  for 
in  the  Association  these  terms  are  synonymous,  and  he  launched 
into  a  harangue  about  the  provocations  of  Irish  Roman  Catholics, 
in  a  voice  of  agony,  as  if  all  the  while  some  one  had  been  tearing 
the  flesh  off  his  body  with  red-hot  pincers.  He  described  the  mur- 
derings,  the  floggings,  the  torturings,  the  shedding  of  blood,  which 
were  suffered  by  the  Roman  Catholics  iu  the  last  rebellion  — 

Shepherd.  He  wud  dwell  particularly  on  the  bluid. 

JNorth,  Until  it  must  have  appeared  to  his  excited  auditory,  that 
they  saw  the  miserable  bands  of  fugitive  Papists  struggling  and 
plashing  through  the  rivers  of  gore,  which  flowed  from  their 
slaughtered 

Shepherd,  W^hat  a  difference  atween  a  pautriot  and  a  dema- 
gogue ! 

North,  We  read  these  speeches  at  our  breakfast-table,  and  we 
laugh  at  their  absurdity,  and  so  wo  ought,  for  they  are  absurd  ;  but 
if  we  heard  them  as  they  are  delivered  before  a  great  multitude,  the 
illusion  might  be  too  strong  for  any  man  who  ban  not  some  fifty 
years'  experience  of  the  emptiness  and  falsehood  of  the  world,  to 
steel  his  heart  against  all  enthusiasm. 

Shepherd,  You've  forgotten  your  theory  o'  the  atmosphere,  sir. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


150  NOCrrES  AHBBOSIAN.fi. 

But  even  such  a  man  as  you  suppose,  might  be  carried  away,  when 
the  description  was  one  o'  misery.  Were  it  of  happiness,  he  might 
laugh  in  all  the  scorn  o'  unbelief;  but  guilt  and  misery,  sir,  seem 
true  to  the  old,  as  well  as  to  the  young. 

North,  Why  indeed,  James,  the  account  of  all  these  horrors,  so 
extravagantly  painted  by  the  young  Counsellor,  are  true  in  part ;  for 
in  all  rebellions  there  must  be  hanging,  and  shooting,  and  cutting  of 
throats  with  swords,  and  much  burning  and  outrage.  But  all  those 
terrible  things  happen  on  both  sides ;  and  the  Papists  did  not  suffer 
more  than  did  the  Protestants  in  the  rebellion  of  ninety-eight;*  but 
there  is  no  one  to  tell  them  all  this  in  the  Catholic  Association,  and 
they  go  forth  maddened  with  recollections  so  vividly  and  partially 
called  up  before  them. 

Shepherd.  It  canna  be  difficult  to  foresee  the  effeck  o'  a'  this  on 
the  opposite  pairty,  the  Protestants. 

North,  The  effect  produced  in  the  Protestant  Clubs  is*  of  the 
same  kind,  but  less  in  its  degree,  in  proportion  to  the  comparative 
smallness  of  each  separate  assembly,  and  the  absence  of  that  great 
and  widely-spread  authority  which  attaches  itself  to  the  insanities  of 
the  Association.  Besides,  they  have  not  had  the  practice  in  this 
kind  of  infuriating  oratory  which  the  Papists  possess,  nor  have  they 
had,  until  very  lately,  much  provocation  to  its  exercise. 

Shepherd,  There's  been  nae  want  o'  provocation  lately. 

North,  While  they  were  the  dominant  party,  they  sunk  into  cul- 
pable slothfulness,  and  neglected  the  prudent  means  of  preserving 
their  power,  and  the  stability  of  the  constitution,  such  as  it  was 
given  us  by  our  fathers. 

Shepherd,  Nae  uncommon  case,  either  wi'  individuals  or  nations. 

North,  Above  all,  they  committed  the  grand  error  of  suffering 
the  power  of  the  parliamentary  representation  to  pass,  in  a  great 
measure,  into  the  hands  of  a  Roman  Catholic  tenantry,  and  now 
this  error  recoils  upon  them  with  a  force  which  is  almost  irresi&tible. 

Shepherd,  I'm  only  surprised,  sir,  that  the  Roman  Catholic  pairty 
should  hae  delayed  sae  lang  to  make  use  o'  it. 

North,  But  now,  James,  the  Protestants  see  the  danger  which 
threatens  the  ascendancy  of  their  church  and  party  in  Ireland.  Now 
ikeir  orators  start  forth,  and  it  will  go  hard  with  them  if  they  do  not 
soon  equal  the  Papists  in  vehemence  and  passion,  as  they  already 
surpass  them  in  everything  else  (save  multitude)  which  makes  6 
party  strong. 

Shepherd,  Don't  you  approve  of  the  Brunswick  Clubs  % 

North.  I  do.  But  the  brunswick  Clubs  are  set  up  as  measures 
of  defence  against  the  Catholic  Association  :  let  the  latter  be  put 
down  by  solemn  and  stem  interposition  of  the  law,  and  the  Bruns* 

«  Ytrj  U  r  Iriakmtn  wUl  UUtre  tViU.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


NOTBLTY  OF  GENIUS.  161 

wick  Clubs  will  immediately,  not  dissolve  of  themselves,  bnt  sub- 
side into  quiescence, — and,  to  use  a  favorite  expression  of  the  Irish 
orators^  men  will  no  longer  "  halloo "  each  other  on,  to  glut  the 
savage  passion  of  political  revenge.* 

Shepherd.  What  a  rickle  o'  banes  on  the  trenchers,  on  the  table 
and  the  sideboard  !  Hare,  pheasant,  groose,  snipes,  sweet-breads, 
palates!  no  to  mention  a'  the  puir  bits  o'  tarts,  custards,  and  jellies 
— melted  awa'  like  snaw  aff  a  dyke  !  But  is  na't  a  great — a  noble 
—a  shublime  sicht — the  Cauld  Roun',  towerin'  by  himsel'  in  the 
middle  o'  the  board — his  sides  clothed  wi'  deep  fat,  like  a  mountain 
wi'  snaw-d rifts  ! — and  weel  does  he  deserve  the  name  o'  mountain — 
Ben-Buttock — see — see — furrows,  as  if  left  by  the  plough-share,  high 
up  his  sides ! 

North.  What  it  is  to  have  the  eye  and  soul  of  a  poet !  The 
mere  marks  of  the  twine  that  kept  him  together  in  the  briny  pickle- 
tub. 

{Enter  Ambrose  and  others  with  the  materiel.) 

Shepherd,  Fair  fa'  your  honest  face,  Mr.  Awmrose.  Oh!  but 
you're  a  bonny  man— and  I'm  no  surprised  that  Mrs.  Awm 

North,  Spare  Mr.  Ambrose's  blushes,  Jam»8, 

Shepherd.  What  a  posse  comitawtus  o'  them  they  look,  as  they're 
a'  lee V in'  the  room,  ilka  chiel,  big  and  sma',  gien  a  glower  outoure 
his  shoother,  first  at  me  and  then  at  Mr.  North !  I'll  tell  you  the 
thing  that  maist  o*  a'  marks  men  o'  genius  like  me  and  you,  sir — 
we  never  lose  our  novelty.  Ken  us  for  fifty  years,  and  see  us  every 
ither  week,  and  still  a'  folk,  o'  ony  gumption  at  least,  are  perfectly 
delichted — nor  can  they  help  wunnerin' — wi'  the  novelty — as  I  was 
say  in' — o'  our  tdces — and  the  novelty  o'  our  feegars — and  the 
novelty  o'  our  mainners — and  the  novelty  o*  everything  we  say — or 
do — just  as  bricht  or  brichter  than  the  first  time  they  ever  saw  us 
atween  the  een  1 

North.  A  shallow  fellow  runs  out  in  a  single  forenoon  call  of 
clishmaclaver — and  next  time  you  meet  him,  the  Bohemian  chat- 
terer is  like  a  turkey  without  a  tongue. 

Shepherd.  The  reason  is,  that  his  mind's  like  a  boyne  that  some- 
body else  has  filled  half-fu'  o'  dirty  water — say  a  washerwoman  wi' 
suds — and  whenever  it's  cowped,  the  suds  o'  course  fa'  out  first  wi' 
ae  great  blash,  and  then  sune  dreep  through  the  wee  worm-holes  o' 
the  yearth,  and  in  a  few  minutes  disappearin'  dry  and  durty. 

North.  While  with  us,  James,  the  stream  of  thought  is  like  a 
river  flowing  from  a  lake 

Shepherd.  And  only  lost  in  the  sea. 

North.  Fructifying,  as  it  flows,  a  hundred  realms 

TTie  BrananAck  Clubi  wer«  whoUy  Aoti-Catholio,  and  wer«  rery  Aort-liTed.— M 


Digitized  by 


Google 


153  KocrrES  ambsosianjb. 

Shepherd,  Why  even  a  shallow  mind— that's  to  say,  sir,  a  mind 
no  very  deep,  if  it  hae  but  a  natural  spring  o'  its  ain,  never  runs 
dry,  but  murmurs,  alang  a  bit  wee  water-coorsey  o'  its  ain  scleckin 
ainang  the  broomy  and  brackeny  banks  and  braes,  weel  contented 
at  la»>t  to  lose  its  name,  but  no  its  nature,  in  anither  mair  capacious 
intellect,  sic  as  mine  or  yours — like  the  Eddlestane,  or  the  Quair, 
or  the  Leithen,  singin*  wV  a  swirl  into  the  sawmon-haunted  Tweed. 

North.  Exquisite,  my  dear  James — exquisite.  Give  me  a  com- 
panion with  a  mind  of  his  own — something  peculiar  at  least — if  not 
absolutely  original  — 

Shepherd,  And  l*m  sure,  sir,  you  would  let  a  dull  dungeon  o'  mere 
learn in' — 

North.  Go  hang.  What's  the  matter,  James?  What's  the 
matter  ? 

Shepherd,  I  really  canna  help  wishin',  sir,  that  there  was  a  mark 
on  the  thermometer,  aboon  that  o'  biiin'  water,  just  for  the  sake  o' 
whusky  toddy. 

North,  Is  the  jug  a  failure,  James  ? 

Shepherd,  It  would  be  sacrilege  to  whusky  like  that,  to  gi'et  mair 
than  ae  water — but  tl^n  ac  water,  especially  gin  it  be  the  least  aflf 
the  bile,  deadens  the  jug  below  the  proper  pitch  o'  hotness,  nor  in  a' 
the  realms  o'  nature,  art,  and  science,  is  there  ony  remeed. 

North,  There  are  many  evils  and  imperfections  in  our  present 
state  of  existence,  James,  to  which  we  must  unrepiningly  submit. 

Shepherd.  Repinin'?  Whaever  heard  me  repinin',  sirl  But 
surely  you're  no  sae  stupit  as  no  to  ken  the  difference  atwecn  yaw- 
merin'*  and  moraleezin' ! 

North,  They  are  ofken  not  easily  to  be  distinguished,  in  the  writ- 
ings of  those  persons  who  have  been  pleased  to  devote  their  time  and 
talents  to  the  promotion  of  the  temporal  and  eternal  interests  of  the 
human  race,  James. 

Shepherd,  What  skrows  o'  sermons  are  written  by  sumpbs  !f 

North.  It  requires  that  a  man  should  have  a  strong  mind,  James, 
to  get  into  a  pulpit  every  seventh  day,  and  keep  prosing  and  preach- 
ing away  either  at  people  in  particular,  who  are  his  parishioners,  or 
at  mankind  at  large,  who  are  merely  inhabitants  of  t^e  globe,  with- 
out contracting  a  confirmed  habit  of  general  insolence,  most  unbe- 
coming the  character  of  a  gentleman  and  a  Christian. 

Shepherd.  Rspecially  ministers  that  are  mere  callants,  little  mair 
than  students  o'  divinity— fresh  frae  the  Ha' — and  wha,  even  if  they 
are  rather  clever,  canna  but  be  verra  ignorant  o'  human  natur,  at 
least  o'  its  warst  vices,  it  is  to  be  houped  ;  yet  how  crouse  the  creters 
are  in  the  poopit !     How  the  bits  o'  bantams  do  craw ! 

*  yammering,— aukiDg  a  loud  outcry.— M.     f  Sun^^—t,  toft,  miiddy-h«^«d  fitilow.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


aoomsH  KiBKS.  153 

Norik,  The  spectacle  is  more  than  disgusting. 

Shepherd,  No,  sir ;  it's  neither  less  nor  mair  than  disgustin' !  Dis- 
gustin's  the  verra  word.  Nae  doubt  a  weak  mind,  ower  sensitive, 
micht  ca'  the  creter's  impidence  pro&nation ;  but  it*s  no  in  the 
power  of  a  bit  shallow,  silly,  upsettin'  creter,  wi'  an  ee-glass  dangling 
at  the  breast  o'  him,  thougn  he's  na  mair  blin'  than  I  am,  except,  in- 
deed, to  his  ain  insignificance  and  presumption,  and  to  his  character 
and  reputation,  baith  wholesale  and  retail — wi'  his  starched  neck- 
cloth proppin'  up  the  chouks  o'  him,  as  stifif  as  a  black  stock — and 
the  hair  o'  his  head  manifestly  a'  nicht  in  papers — sae  that  when 
you  first  see  him  stannin'  up  in  the  poopit,  you  can  scarcely  help 
lauchin'  at  the  thought  o'  a  contrived  eemage  risin'  up  out  o'  a  band- 
box ;  it*s  nae  sae  easy,  I  say,  sir,  for  a  creter  o'  that  kind  to  profane 
a  kirk. 

North,  How  so,  James,  I  scarcely  fathom  you. 

Shepherd.  The  sanctity  o'  a  sma'  kirk  is  Strang — Strang,  sir, 
whether  it  be  on  a  dark  day,  when  a  sort  o'  gloamin'  hangs  aboon  and 
below  the  laigh*  galleries,  soberin'  and  tamin*  the  various  colors  o' 
the  congregation's  sabbath-claes,  and  gi'en  a  solemn  expression  to  a' 
fiices,  whether  pale  and  wrinkled,  or  smooth,  safl,  and  shinin'  as  the 
moss-roses  when  bloomin'  unseen,  a'  lefl  alane  to  their  bonny  sells, 
in  the  gardens  o'  the  breathless  houses  sprinkled  in  the  wilderness, 
and  a'  staunin'  idle  during  the  hours  o'  divine  worship. 

North.  Grod  bless  you,  James.  I  feel  the  Sabbath  silence  of  a 
thousand  hills  descending  upon  my  soul  and  senses.  Never  is  your 
genius  more  delightful,  my  dear  Shepherd,  than  when 

Shepherd.  You're  a  real  gude,  pious  auld  man,  Mr.  North,  wi'  a' 
the  unaccountable  perversities  o'  your  natur.  Or,  haply,  when  after 
a  wee  bit  cheerfii*  and  awaukening  patter  o'  a  hasty  simmer  shower 
on  the  windows  lookin'  to  the  stormy  airt,  the  sun  bursts  out  in  sud- 
den glory,  and  fills  the  humble  tabernacle  wi'  a  licht,  that  is  felt  to 
be  gracious  as  the  smile  o'  the  all-seeing  God ! 

North.  Happy  Scotland — ^thrice  happy  in  thy  most  simple  Sabbath- 
service,  long  ago  purchased  and  secured  by  blood — ^now  held  by  the 
tenure  of  now  and  then  a  few  contrite  tears ! 

Shepherd,  The  bonnie  lassies — a'  dressed  like  verra  leddies,  and 
yet,  at  the  same  time,  for  a'  that,  likewise  just  like  themsells ;  and 
wha  wadna  wish  to  see  them  arrayed  on  the  Sabbath  like  the  lilies 
o'  the  field  ?  Their  sweethearts,  perhaps,  or  them  no  quite  their 
sweethearts  yet,  he! pin'  them  to  turn  ower  the  leaves  o'  their  Bibles 
at  every  reference  to  scripture  till  the  hail  kirk  rustles  wi*  religion. 

North.  Even  like  the  very  sycamore  shading  the  porch,  when  the 
only  breeze  in  all  the  air  vihits  for  a  minute  its  sacred  umbrage! 

Shepherd.  Just  sae,  sir ;  gie  me  your  haun'.     Let  me  fill  your 

•  Z^v*,— low.—M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


154  NOOTES  AMB&O&IANM. 

glass.  This  jug's  sweeter  nor  usual — ^and  what's  strong  should  aye 
be  sweet.  Every  here  and  there  an  auld  gray  head  o'  grandfather  or 
great-grandfather,  wi'  an  aspect  amaist  stem  in  its  thochtfulness,  fixed 
wi'  dim  yet  searchin'  een  on  the  expounder  o'  the  Word — and  ma- 
trons, wi  sweet  serious  faces,  fair  still,  though  time  has  touched 
them,  in  the  beauty  o'  holiness — and  young  wives  sae  douce,  but  no 
sae  douncast,  wha  in  early  spring,  and  yet  'tis  simmer,  were  maidens, 
and  as  they  walkM  amang  the  braes  pu'd  the  primroses  for  their 
snooded  hair* — and,  sprinkled  up  and  down  the  pews,  gowden-headed 
weans,  that  at  school  are  yet  in  the  Larger  or  Shorter  Catechism, 
some  o'  them  listenin'  to  the  discourse  like  auld  people,  some  of 
them  doin'  a'  they  can  to  listen  ;  some  o'  them,  aiblins,  when  their 
pawrents  are  no  lookin',  lauchin'  to  ane  anither  wi*  silent  jokes  o' 
their  ain,  scarcely  understood  by  themsells,  and  passin'  awa  aff  their 
faces  in  transitory  smiles,  like  dewy  sunbeams  glintin'  frae  the  hare- 
bells— or  wearied  wi'  their  walk,  and  overpowered  by  the  slumber- 
ous hush  o'  the  place  o'  worship,  leanin'  their  heads  on  the  shouther 
of  an  elder  sister,  wha  stirs  not  lest  she  disturb  them — heaven  forgive 
and  bless  the  innocents — fast,  fast,  and  sound)  sound  asleep  ! 

North.  The  "contrived  eemage,"  James,  as  you  called  him, 
with  his  eye-glass,  stiif-starched  stock,  and  poll  of  ringlets,  has  dis- 
appeared into  his  bandbox — on  with  the  lid  upon  him— and  let  him 
rest  within  the  pasteboard. 

Shepherd,  When  you  and  me  begins  a  twa-handed  crack,  there's 
nae  kennin'  whare  the  association  o'  ideas — there's  a  pheelosophio 
word  for  you — will  carry  us — and  oh,  sir !  it's  pleasant  to  embark 
in  our  fairy  pinnace,  me  at  the  oars,  and  you  at  the  helm,  and  wi' 
wind  and  tide,  to  drap  awa  down  the  banks,  sometimes  laigh  with- 
out being  flat,  sometimes  just  tremblin'  into  knowes,  and  sometimes 
heavin'  into  hills — noo  a  bit  solitary  birk-tree  dancin'  to  the  din  o' 
water&' — noo  a  coppice,  a'  that  remains  o'  an  auld  decayed  forest — 
noo  a  wood,  a  hundred  years  o'  age,  in  the  prime  o  life — noo  a 
tower,  a  castle,  an  abbey — to  say  naething  o'  the  glintin'  steeples  o' 
kirks  and  the  lumros  o'  dwallin'  houses  smokin'  in  the  clear  air,  or, 
in  the  heat  o'  simmer,  lookin'  as  if  they  were  only  ornaments  to  the 
thatch-roofs  variegated  by  time  wi'  a'  the  colors  o*  the  rainbow. 

North.  I  feel  now,  James,  in  my  heart's  core,  the  difference  be- 
tween "yawmerin'  and  moraleezin. 

Sh^herd.  A  man  may  let  hb  sowl  sink  down  to  the  verra  bot- 
tom o  the  black  pit  o'  mental  despair,  sir,  and  yet  no  deserve  the 
name  o'  a  yawmerer. 

North.  Ay,  James,  it  was  in  no  playful  mood,  but  in  an  agony, 
that  some  haunted  spirit  first  strove  to  laugh  the  phantoms  to  soonii 
by  naming  them  blue  ievils. 

*  8noodi—%  young  woman's  maiden-fillet  for  tying  round  her  head  — M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


BABLY  LIFE.  155 

Shepherd,  Mercy  on  us  !  when  a  man  thinks  wha  made  him,  and 
for  what  end,  and  then  thinks  what  his  life  at  the  verra  best  has  been, 
the  only  wonder  is  that  he  does  na  gang  mad.  Wha  that  breathes 
the  breath  o'  life,  when  standin'  a'  by  himsell  in  the  desert,  has  na 
reason  to  ca'  upon  the  rooks  to  cover  him,  to  hide  him  in  the  bowels 
o'  the  earth  frae  the  beautiful,  benign,  and  gracious  blue  sky  ?  Every 
day  is  a  day  o'  judgment  1  feel  that,  sir,  every  nicht  I  kneel  down 
to  say  my  prayers,  and  hear  wee  Jamie  breathin'  in  the  bed  at  the 
foot  o'  our  ain ;  but  then  again,  bairns  and  ither  blessings  are  gien 
us  to  hinder  our  souls  frae  swarfin'  within  us  at  the  thocht  o'  our 
ain  wickedness — and  since  He  who  made  us  and  provides  for  us, 
hung  our  planet  by  the  golden  chain  o'  beauty  round  the  sun,  and 
gied  us  senses  mirroring  creation,  and  spirits  to  rejoice  in  the  mys- 
terious reflection,  surely,  surely,  silly  and  sinfu'  though  we  all  are, 
we  may  venture  at  times  to  lift  up  a  humble  but  happy  ee  to  the 
''glorious  firmament  on  high,"  being,  fallen  as  we  are  from  our  high 
estate,  but  a  little  lower — so  we  are  truly  tauld — than  the  angels. 

North,  We  are  getting  perhaps  somewhat  more  serious,  James, 
than  is  altogether  suitable  to  — 

Shepherd,  Na,  sir.  This  is  Saturday  nicht — and  cheerfu'  as  Sat- 
urday nicht  ever  is  to  every  son  o'  dear  auld  Scotland, — mair  espe- 
cially since  sweet  Robin  hallowed  it  by  that  deathless  strain — ^it 
aye,  somehow  or  ither,  seems  wi'  me  to  partake  o!  the  character  o' 
the  comin'  Sabbath. 

North,  I  have  felt  that  sentiment,  my  dear  James,  through  all 
the  chances  and  changes  of  my  chequered  life  ever  since  boyhood. 
Even  then,  when  night  came  unawares  upon  us  at  our  play,  with 
her  one  large  clear  moon  and  her  thousand  twinkling  stars,  at  the 
quick  close  of  the  happiest  of  all  holidays — ^the  Saturday — a  sudden 
hush  used  to  still  the  beatings  of  my  wild  heart— and  whether  with 
my  playmates,  or  slipping  away  by  myself,  I  used  to  return  from 
the  brae  or  the  glen  to  the  Manse,  with  a  divine  melancholy  in  my 
mind,  ever  and  anon  eyeing  with  a  delight  allied  to  awe  and  wonder, 
the  heavenly  host  marshalling  themselves,  every  minute,  in  vaster 
multitudes  all  over  the  glorious  firmament. 

Shepherd,  Do  you  ken,  Mr.  North,  that  every  thocht,  every  feel- 
ing, every  image,  every  description,  that  it  is  possible  for  a  poet  to 
pour  out  frae  within  the  sanctuarv  o'  his  spirit,  seems  to  be  brought 
frae  a  hidden  store,  that  was  gathered,  and  gimell'd,  and  heaped  up 
by  himsell  imconsciously  during  the  heavenly  era  o'  early  life  1 

North,  True,  James,  true.  O  call  not  the  little  laddie  idle  that 
is  strolling  by  some  trotting  bum's  meander,  all  in  aimless  joy  by 
his  happy  self — or  angling,  perhaps,  as  if  angling  were  the  sole  end 
of  life,  and  all  the  world  a  world  of  dear  running  waters — or  bird- 
nesting  by  bank  and  brae,  and  hedgerow,  and  forest-side,  with  more 


Digitized  by 


Google 


156  N0CTE8  AMBROSIAN^ 

itnaginative  passion  than  ever  impelled  men  of  old  to  voyage  to 
golden  lands — or  stringing  blaeberiies  on  a  thread,  far  in  the  bosom 
of  woods,  where  sometimes  to  his  quaking  heart,  and  his  startled 
eyes,  the  stems  of  the  aged  mossy  trees  seemed  to  glimmer  like  ghosts, 
and  then  in  a  sudden  gust  of  the  young  emotion  of  beauty,  that 
small  wild  fruitage  blushed  with  deeper  and  deeper  purple,  as  if  in- 
deed and  verily  gathered  in  Paradise— or  pulling  up  by  the  roots, — 
that  the  sky-blue  flowers  might  not  droop  their  dewy  clusters,  when 
gently  the  stalk  should  be  replanted  in  the  rich  mould  of  the  nook 
of  the  garden,  beside  the  murmuring  hives, — the  lovely  Harebells, 
the  Blue  Bells  of  Scotland  — 

Bhepherd  Hourra — hourra — hourra  I^Scotland  for  ever !— damn 
a'  the  niggers  that  daur  to  hint  the  tenth  pairt  o'  the  sma^est  mono- 
syllable against  Scotland.  Say  on,  sir,  say  on — but  acknowledge 
at  the  same  time,  that  you  are  catchin'  your  inspiration  frae  him  you 
love  to  ca'  the  Shepherd — and  wha,  were  he  to  be  ane  o'  the  crooned 
beads  o'  Europe,  would  glory  in  the  name !  — 

Nwth,  Or  tearing  a  rainbow  branch  of  broom  from  the  Hespe- 
rides  — 

Shepherd,  That's  a  real  bonny  use  o'  a  classical  fable — 

North.  Or  purer,  softer,  brighter  far  than  any  pearls  ever  dived 
for  in  Indian  seas,  with  fingers  trembling  in  eagerest  passion,  yet 
half-restrained  in  reverential  wonder  at  their  surpassing  loveliness, 
plucking  from  the  mossy  stones  primroses  and  violets  I  And  almost 
sick  with  the  scent  of  their  blended  balm,  faint,  faint,  faint  as  an 
odor  in  a  dream — and  with  the  sight  of  their  blended  beauty,  the 
bright  burnished  yellow, — yes,  at  once  both  bright  and  pale, — and 
the  dim  celestial  blue, — yes,  at  once  both  celestial  and  sullen, — 
unable  to  determine  in  the  rapt  spirit  within  him,  whether  primrose 
or  violet  be  the  most  heavenly  flower  of  the  wilderness !  All  blent, 
mingled,  transfused,  incorporated:  spiritualized,  the  one  with  the 
other  into  one  glowing,  gorgeous,  meek,  mild,  magnificent  whole, 
into  one  large  Luminous  Flower,  worthy,  nor  more  than  worthy,  to 
be  placed  by  his  own  happiest  hands  on  the  bosom  of  his  own  first- 
love,  then  seen  sitting,  far  off  though  she  be,  by  the  knee  of  her  old 
grandame,  reading  the  Bible  aloud  with  her  silver  voice — an  orphan, 
even  more  blessed  than  she  knows  herself  to  be,  in  the  well-pleased 
eye  of  Heaven. 

Shepherd,  Gin  Mr.  Gumey  spiles  that^  either  in  the  contraction  or 
the  extension,  he  deserves  to  gang  without  hb  sooper — that's  a* — 
and  yet,  perhaps,  it'll  no  read  so  weel  in  prent  as  to  hear  it  spoken 
-^for  oh,  sir,  but  you  hae  a  fine  modulated  vice  when  you  speak 
rather  laigh — and  then  when  a  body  looks  at  your  dim  een  and  your 
white  face — though  they're  no  that  unco  dim  nor  white  neither — and 
your  figure  mair  bent  o'  late  than  we  a'  could  wish — the  effeck's  no 


Digitized  by 


Google 


MELANCHOLY  OF  THE  NOOTEfl.  157 

to  be  resisted.  But  the  jug's  noddin'  at  you,  sir ;  touch  noses  wi' 
him,  as  freens,  they  say,  do  in  Turkey — and  then  shove  him  ower  to 
me,  and  TU  replenish— for,  by  this  time,  puir  fallow,  he  maun  be 
sair  exhausted. 

North.  All  fictitious  composition — however  pathetio-— ought  to 
leave  the  mind  of  the  reader  in  a  happy  state,  James.  Is  not  the 
soul  of  every  man  worthy  of  immortality  left  in  a  happy  state,  at 
the  conclusion  of  Lear,  knowing  that  Cordelia's  now  gone  to  heaven  1 

Shepherd,  Twas  an  inevitable  consummation ! 

North,  But  inferior  writers  — 

Shepherd.  The  verra  instant  an  author  begins  darkenin'  heaven's 
gracious  daylight,  except  it  be  for  the  sake  o'  a'  burst  o*  sunshine 
that  has  been  dammed  up  as  it  were  amang  the  black  clouds,  and  is 
a'  at  ance  let  out  in  a  spate  o'  licht  breakin'  intil  a  thousand  streams 
through  the  sky, — I  sav,  the  verra  instant  I  see  the  idiwit,  and  the 
waur  than  idiwit,  doin  what  he  can  to  **  put  out  the  licht,  and  then 
—put  out  the  licht" — I  order  awa  the  book,  just  as  I  would  do  an 
empty  bottle  wi*  some  dregs  o*  soor  yill  in*t  that  never  at  its  best 
was  worth  the  corkin',  and  tell  the  mistress  that  she  maunna  alloo 
that  volumm  to  get  into  the  leebrary  again  on  penalty  o'  its  being 
burnt. 

North,  What !     You  are  your  own  incremator  1 

Shepherd,  It  was  only  the  last  week  that  we  had  an  Auto  da  Fe 
o'  yawmerers  on  the  knowe — the  pamphlets  burned  sweetly — but 
ae  blockhead  in  boards  died  verra  hard,  and  as  for  the  coofs  in  cawf, 
some  o*  them — would  you  believe  it-— were  positively  alive  next 
mornin',  and  I  lichted  my  pipe  at  the  finis  o'  a  volumm  on  Corrup- 
tion,  afore  I  went  to  the  hill  with  the  grews. 

North,  But  how  do  you  reconcile,  James,  this  cheerful  creed  of 
yours  with  the  general  melancholy  of  the  Noctes? 

Shepherd,  There  is  nae  creed,  either  philosophical  or  theological, 
with  which  the  melancholy  o'  the  Noctes  may  not  be  reconciled,  as 
easily  as  twa  friends  that  hae  never  quarrelled.  My  remark  amount- 
ed to  this,  that  there  never  was,  never  will  be,  never  can  be,  in  this 
sublunary  scene,  a  perfect  jug  o'  het  toddy. 

North,  I  have  the  beau  ideal  of  one,  James,  in  my  mind. 

Shepherd,  Na — na — dinna  think  o'  bamboozlin'  me  wi'  your  bo- 
adeeals.  Imperfect  as  I  alloo  this  jug  to  be,  it  is  nevertheless  better, 
when  you  put  it  to  your  mouth,  than  any  bo-adeeal  o'  a  jug  that  ever 
you  had  in  your  mind.  For  what  can  ony  bo-adeeal  o'  a  jug,  by 
ony  possibility,  be  but  a  conception,  or  in  ither  words,  a  remem- 
brance ?  And  will  you  pretend  to  tell  me  that  there  ever  was,  either 
o'  eatables  or  drinkables,  a  conception  or  a  remembrance  half  as 
vivid  as  the  liquid  or  solid  reality  its  ain  sell  1 


Digitized  by 


Google 


158  NOOTBS   AMBB08IANJB. 

North,  Bjt  then,  James,  by  abstracting,  and  adding,  and  modify- 
iug,  and  — 

Shepherd.  O,  sir,  sir !  O  my  dear  sir,  ye  maunna,  ye  really 
maunna  begin  sae  soon  as  the  verra  first  second  jug  to  dreevil  met- 
apheesics 

North,  £ven  thus,  James,  the  loveliest  of  the  loveliest  of  the  cre- 
ation, as  she  breathes  and  blooms  in  bright  and  balmy  flesh  and 
blood,  what  is  she  to  the  vision,  the  idea,  in  the  poet's  brain  1 

Shepherd,  V\\  tell  you  what  she  is — her  wee  finger,  aye,  her  wee 
tae's  worth  a'  the  air- woven  limmers  — 

North.  O,  Medicean  Venus ! 

Shepherd.  I  never  saw,  ye  ken  that  weel  aneuch,  the  marble  statue; 
but  1  hae  seen  a  plaister  cast  o'  the  Heathen  creter — and  I  dinna  deny 
that's  she's  a  gae  tosh  body,  rather  o'  an  under  size,  and  that  the 
chiel  who  originally  cut  her  out,  could  hae  been  nae  journeyman. 
But  may  this  be  the  last  jug  o'  toddy  that  ever  you  and  I  drink  the- 
gither,  if  I  havena  seen  a  dizzen,  a  score,  a  hunder,  a  tbousan'  times, 
lassie  upon  lassie,  nane  o'  them  reckoned  very  extraorniar  in  the 
way  of  beauty,  far,  far,  far  bonnier,  baith  in  face  and  figure,  than  the 
Greek  image,  dookin'  in  secret  pools  o'  the  bumies  among  the  braes 
— noo  splashin'  ane  anither,  like  sae  mony  wild  swans  a'  at  once 
seized  wi'  a  mirthfu'  madness,  and  far  out  in  the  very  heart  o'  St 
Mary's  Loch,  earrin'  the  spray  spin  into  rainbows  aneath  the  beat- 
ing beauty  o'  meir  snow-white  wings, — noo  meltin'  like  foam-bells, 
or  say  rather,  sinkin'  like  water-lilies,  veesible  through  the  element 
as  if  it  were  but  a  pearly  veil — Oh !  sir— ower  ower  veesible, — noo 
chasin'  ane  anither,  in  ee-dazzlin',  soul- sick  en  in'  succession.  Naiad 
after  Naiad,  this  ane  croo*d,  say  rather  apparelled,  in  a  shower  o' 
sunbeams,  and  that  ane  wi'  a  trail  o'  clouds — brichtenin'  or  black- 
enin'  their  fair  bodies  like  day  or  like  nicht,  such  was  the  dreepin' 
length  o'  yellow  or  sable  hair,  that  hung,  in  their  stooping  flight,  frae 
forehead  unto  feet— chasin'  ane  anither,  I  say,  sir,  through  alang  the 
pillared  and  fretted  gallery  that  runs  alang  the  rock  ahint  the  water- 
fa',  cool,  caller,  cauld  in  July's  dog-star  drought,  and  yet  sae  cheeriii' 
and  halesome  too  within  the  misty  den,  that  there  the  wren  doth 
hang  her  large  green  nest  in  a  nook,  and  at  any  time  you  throw  in 
a  stane,  lo  1  the  white-breasted  water-pyet  flits  forth,  and  skimmin' 
the  surface,  dips  and  disappears  sae  suddenly  that  you  know  not 
whether  it  was  a  bird  or  a  thocht ! 

North,  My  dear  James — you  have  peopled  the  pool  with  poetry, 
even  as  the  heaven  with  stars. 

Shepherd,  That's  as  true  a  word  as  ever  you  spake ;  and  ane  o' 
the  maist  glorious  gifts  of  poetry,  sir,  is  the  power  o'  bringin'  upon 
the  imagination  woman — virgin  woman — for  a  glimpse — a  glimpse 
and  nae  mair — veiled  but  in  her  ain  native  —her  ain  sacred  inno- 


Digitized  by 


Google 


ABB  THE  NOCTBS    INDELIOATB  ?  159 

oenoe — and  secure  from  all  profanation  of  unhallowed  thoughts,  as 
the  nun  kneeling  in  her  oell  before  the  crucifix. 

North,  So  have  all  great  poets  aud  paiDters  felt,  my  dear  James ; 
nor  have  they  ever  feared  for  nature  and  her  sanctities.  To  the 
pure  all  thiugs  are  pure  ;  but  there  are  poor,  feeble,  fastidious  frib- 
bles, James,  who  would  have  turned  aside  their  faces,  clapped  a 
handkerchief  to  their  eyes,  and  deviated  down  a  lane,  had  they 
suddenly  met  Eve  in  Paradise. 

Shepherd,  Hoo  the  mother  of  mankind  would  hae  despised  the 
Atheists !  For  what  better  than  Atheists  are  they  who  blush  for  the 
handiwork  of  their  Maker  1 

North,  Their  tailor  stands  between  them  and  God. 

Shepherd,  That's  a  daurin'  expression — but  noo  that  I've  taen  a 
minute  to  think  on't,  I  see  it's  a  profoond  apophthegm.  Fause  deli- 
cacy's mair  excusable  in  a  woman  than  a  man — for  it  ower  aflen 
forms  pairt  o'  her  edication — and  some  young  leddies  live  in  a  per- 
petual horror  o'  lookin',  or  sayin',  or  doin'  something  improper ; 
whereas  if  the  bit  harmless  creeters  would  but  chatter  away  on, 
they  would  be  as  safe  no  to  talk  out  o'  tune  as  the  lintie  on  the 
broom,  or  the  laverock  in  the  doud. 

North,  What  think  you  of  a  hook-nosed  old  maiden  lady,  with 
a  yellow  shrivelled  neck,  James,  attempting  to  blush  behind  her 
fen 

Shepherd,  When  reading  a  Noctes !  Huts  !  the  auld  idiwit — 
you  micht  imagine  her,  in  like  manner,  comin'  suddenly  upon  Adam, 
with  a  wooden  spade  over  his  shoulder,  and  shriekin'  loud  enough, 
at  the  sight  of  our  worthy  first  male  parent,  to  alarm  the  fairest  of 
her  daughters.  Eve,  employed  in  training  the  pretty  parasites  of 
Paradise  to  cluster  more  thickly  round  the  porch  of  her  nuptial 
bower. 

North,  Yes ;  I  have  been  credibly  informed,  James,  that  there 
are  absolutely  creatures  permitted  to  inhale  the  vital  air,  under  the 
external  appearance  of  human  beings,  male  and  female,  who  won't 
read  the  Noctes,  because,  forsooth,  they  are  indelicate 

Shepherd,  I  wudna  advise  the  pawrents  o'  ony  female  under  forty, 
that  pretends  no  to  read  the  Noctes  for  that  reason,  to  alloc  Miss 
Madam  to  ride  out  on  horseback  for  an  airing,  wi'  an  unmarried 

f  room-lad,  or  it'll  no  be  her  fawt  if  them  twa's  no  ae  flesh,  and 
er,  before  lang,  the  landlady  o'  a  tavern  in  Bow-street,  wi'  livery 
stables  with  bfuik  premises,  wi'  horses  staunm'  in  them  at  a  guinea 
a-week. 

North,  Might  this  tongue — and  this  hand — ^be  benumbed  by 
palsy,  if  ever  one  word  dropt  from  either  that  modest  maiden  might 
not  read,  with  no  other  blush  but  that  of  mantling  mirth  on  the 
cheek  of  Innocence,  who,  herself  knowing  no  ill,  suspecteth  it  not 


Digitized  by 


Google 


160  N0CTE8   AMBBOSIAN^ 

in  others,  and  least  of  all  in  the  harmless  merriment  of  an  old  man. 
fain,  now  and  then,  my  gentle  Shepherd,  as  you  know,  to  kindle  up 
a  light  beneath  the  sparks  of  such  a  genius  as  thine,  James,  in  the 
dry  and  withered  sticks,  as  it  were,  of  his  imagination — coruscating 
fitfully,  alas !  and  feebly,  but  innocently  too,  as  the  flakes  of  wild- 
fire through  the  fast-descending,  and  deepening,  and  thickening  mists 
of  age 

Shepherd,  Mists !  A  mind  like  yours,  sir,  wad  be  naething  with- 
out mists.  Your  gran'  towerin'  sky-seekin'  thochts  are  aften  dimly 
seen  through  mists,  just  like  the  mountains  o*  Swisserland,  or  our 
ain  Highlands — while  through  the  heart  o'  the  dead  or  drivin'  cloud- 
gloom  is  heard  the  roarin'  o'  mony  streams  a^  in  unison  wi'  the  voice 
of  some  Great  Waterfa',  the  Leader  o'  the  Band, — when  they  are 
silent,  singin*  a  gran'  solo  by  himsell,  and  ha'en  nae  objections  to 
takin'  either  the  first  or  the  second  in  a  duet  with  the  Thunder.  Or 
haply,  sir, — and  there  the  simile  bauds  gude  too,  when  you're  in  a 
cheerfu'  mood,  sir,  and  weel- timed  daffin's*  the  order  o'  the  nicht, 
— haply,  sir,  through  the  disparting  mist  is  heard  the  laughter  o' 
lads  and  lasses  tedding  the  rushy  meadow  hay  in  the  moist  hollows 
among  the  heather,  or  the  lilting  o'  some  auld  traditionary  lay ;  or 
what  say  you  to  the  bagpipe,  to  a  gatherin'  or  a  coronach,f  saft  and 
faint  as  subterranean  music,  frae  ahint  a  knowe  a'  covered  wi'  rocks, 
and  owershadowed  wi'  pine-trees  like  oaks,  so  majestic  is  the  &r- 
sweepin'  o*  their  arm-boughs,  and  so  high  their  green-diadem'd  heads 
in  heaven  ? 

North,  Hollo!  Fancy!     Whither  art  thou  flying? 

Shepherd,  Indelicate  indeed !  at  that  rate  wha's  delicate  in  the 
haill  range  o'  English  leeteratur?  Is  Addison  delicate,  wha  left 
"  no  line  which  dying  he  would  wish  to  blot  ?"  Let  your  prim, 
leerin',  city  madams  read  his  Spectawtors — beautiful,  pure,  simple, 
graceful,  elegant,  and  perfectly  innocent  as  they  are,  and  then  daur 
to  blame  the  Noctes  Ambrosiance. 

North,  Let  Pope's  Works,  truly  moral  as  he  is,  Poems,  Letters, 
and  all,  go  into  the  fire. 

Shepherd,  Let  the  Castle  o*  Indolence  be  inserted  in  the  Index 
£xpurgatorius,  on  account  o'  that  stanza  about  the  silly  maiden 
"  waxing  very  weakly  as  she  warms"  in  the  arms  of  the  losel  ■ 

North.  Whisht,  James,  whisht — the  very  allusion  to  the  most 
perfect  poem  in  the  English  language  is  indelicate. 

Shepherd.  What  say  they  to  the  description  o'  Adam  and  Eve 
in  the  garden  o'  Eden — to  Dido  and  JEneas  in  the  cave — to  Tasso 
and  Ariosto,  and 

North.  Shakspeare  in  every  other  page — to  Ophelia  and  Cym- 
beline,  and  Desdemona. 

•  Dc^w,— IhoughtleM  gaiety.—M.  f  Coronaeh^—a.  dirge.— AL 


Digitized  by 


Google 


THB  FALSE  DELICATE.  161 

Shepherd,  O  the  cutties  !* 

North.  Why,  James,  the  galleries  of  the  Festal  Hall  might  be 
crowded  with  the  chariest  virgins  of  the  land  to  listen  to  our  collo- 
quies during  our  wildest  orgies ;  nor  would  the  most  shame-&ced 
of  them  all  ever  need  once  to  veil  her  eyes  beneath  the  white 
wavings  of  her  ostrich  plumes. 

Shepherd.  There  canna^  sir,  be  a  mair  fatal  symptom  o'  the  de- 
cline and  corruption  o'  national  morals  than  what's  ca'd  squeamish- 
fiess.  Human  natur,  I  fancy,  is  the  same  in  essentials  in  high  and 
low  degree — and  I  ken  ae  thing  for  a  dead  certainty,  that  there 
never  was  a  lass  yet  in  a'  the  Forest  that  was  misfortunate,  who  had 
nae  aye  lookit  as  if  butter  would  nae  hae  melted  in  her  mouth ; 
and  what  was  the  upshot  ?  A  skirlin'  babbief  at  the  dead  hour  o' 
night,  to  the  astonishment  o'  her  mither  and  a'  her  sisters — and 
you'll  fiu'  the  same  thing  noted  in  auld  ballants  by  thae  great  mas- 
ters o'  natur  and  teachers  o'  virtue,  the  poets. 

North,  Ay,  James — the  old  minstrels  saw  far,  and  deep,  and  dear 
into  all  heart-mysteries — and,  low-born  humble  men  as  they  were, 
their  tragic  or  comic  strains  strike  like  electricity. 

Shepherd.  Shame  came  into  the  warld  wi'  Sin ;  and  whether  by 
the  lowin'  ingle-nook,  or  amang  the  bonnie  bloomin*  heather,  aneath 
the  moon  and  stars,  she  bides  na  lang  wi'  Innocence,  sittin'  or  lyin' 
in  the  arms  of  Love — for  Love,  though  a  gentle,  is  a  bold-eyed 
spirit;  and  wi*  ae  smile,  that  fortifies  the  tremblin'  virgin's  hearty 
scaurs  awa'  Shame  and  Fear  to  the  haunts  o'  the  guilty ;  and  if  there 
be  a  blush  on  her  brow  or  her  bosom.  Love  kens  weel  whence  came 
the  dear  suffusion  ;  and,  in  a  sweet  lown  voice,  aslcs  his  ain  lassie  to 
lift  up  her  head  and  look  him  in  the  face,  that  he  may  kiss  the  tears 
frae  her  cheek,  and  what  seems  to  be  tears — but  is  only  a  mist — far 
within  her  thoughtful  and  affectionate  een,  through  which  is  seen 
swimmin'  the  very  essence  o'  her  soul ! 

North.  Once  adopt  the  false  delicate,  and  Poetry  and  Painting  are 
no  more.  Jephtha's  daughter  must  not  bewail  her  virginity  on  the 
mountains — and  her  breast  must  not  be  bared  to  the  sacrificial  knife 
of  her  father.     Iphigenia  in  Tauris 

Shepherd.  If  three  bonny  maidens,  sisters  perhaps,  had  been  a' 
droon'  in  ane  anither's  arms,  in  some  sholvin'  plum — not  only  be- 
trothed, but  the  verra  day  fixed  for  their  marriages — and  were  a' 
there  laid  out,  stiff  and  stark,  on  the  sunny  bank,  like  three  wee  bit 
naked  babbies,  what  wad  you  think  o'  that  man  or  that  woman,  wha 
in  the  middle  of  that  mortal  meesery,  when  the  souls  o'  a'  present 
were  prostrated  by  the  sicht  o'  sudden  and  saddest  death,  should, 
out  o'  delicacyy  order  awa'  the  weepin',  and  sobbin',  and  shriekin' 
haymakers,  that  had  a'  run  down  dimented  to  the  pool ;  and  some 

•  CiiUy, — a  ilut :  a  'worthless  girl ;  a  looi«  voman. — M.         f  fiAirttiy,— screaming.— A^. 

Vol.  III.—12 


Digitized  by 


Google 


162  N00T£8  AMBBOBIAl^^. 

o'  them,  at  the  risk  o'  their  ain  lives,  louped  into  the  deeps,  and  were 
now  wringin'  their  hauus,  because  there  was  nae  hope  for  either 
Mary,  or  Margaret,  or  Helen  Morrison — useless  a'  their  bridal  gar- 
ments— and  for  their  bonny  breasts  nae  linen  wanted  noo — but  suf- 
ficient for  a  shroud ! 

North,  That  self-same  sight  I  saw,  James,  in  a  pool  on  a  bank  of 
the  Tweed — ^fifty  years  ago 

Shepherd,  I  ken  you  did — and  though  I've  heard  you  describe't 
fifty  times,  I  wad  rather  no  hear  ony  thing  mair  about  it  the  noo— 
for  I  hate  to  greet — and  whatever  else  you  may  be  deficient  in,  the 
greatest  coof  in  Scotland  canna  deny  that  you're  a  matchless  master 
o'  the  pathetic. 

North,  Yes,  James,  and  of  the  humorous,  too 

Shepherd,  You  micht  have  left  anither  to  say  that  fbr  you,  sir — 
but  o'  a'  the  vain,  proudj  self-conceited  creturs  that  ever  took  pen  in 
haun',  you  are  at  the  head — and  if  ever  you  chance  to  be  confined  in 
a  lunatic  madhouse,  nae  dout  you'll  continue  to  believe  that  you're 
still  the  Editor  of  Blackwood's  Magazine,  and  '11  no  alloo  naebody 
but  yourself  to  write  the  leading  article. 

North,  And  of  the  sublime. 

Shepherd,  What !  you  conceit  yourself  to  be  a  prose  Milton  %  I 
think  naething  o'  your  grand  style.  Saw  ye  ever  an  auld  man  tot- 
terin'  wi'  stilts  ower  a  ford  that  a  shepherd  micht  skip  amaist  with- 
out being  wat-shod  ? 

North,  And  the  beautiful 

Shepherd,  And  the  mean,  low,  base,  coorse,  clatty 

North,  Come,  James,  keep  a  good  tongue  in  your  head.  See, 
here  are  Retzsoh's  Illustrations  of  Hamlet. 

Shepherd,  Stop  till  I  dicht  the  table  wi'  the  rubber.  Noo  unfauld, 
and  let's  hear  till  another  lectur.  Play  awa'  the  first  fiddle.  You 
like  to  shine,  even  afore  the  Shepherd  alane — ^an  oh  !  but  auld  age 
is  garrulous,  garrulous,  and  loes  dearly  the  soun'  o'  his  ain  tremblin' 
vice! 

North,  Here  is  the  apotheosis  of  Shakspeare. 

Shepherd,  I  hate  apotheoses's,  for  they're  no  in  natur,  or  hardly 
sae — but  is  there  a  pictur  o'  the  murder  ? 

North.  Here  it  is.  The  adulterous  brother  is  pouring  the  "  leper- 
ous  distilment "  into  the  ear  of  the  sleeping  monarch.  What  a  model 
of  a  coward  assassin !  He  seems  as  if  he  trod  on  a  viper.  He  must 
needs  have  recourse  to  poison,  for  he  dare  not  touch  a  dagger.  £very 
nerve  of  his  body  is  on  the  rack  of  fear,  and  yet  no  quiver  of  remorse 
can  reach  his  dastard  soul.  The  passage  from  sleep  to  death — how 
finely  marked  on  the  features  of  his  victim  !  Life  has  departed  with- 
out taking  leave,  and  death  has  not  stamped  him  with  its  loathsome 
impress.     But  the  deed  is  done,  and  the  *'  extravagant  and  erring 


Digitized  by 


Google 


BETZOH'b  nXUBTRATIONB.  168 

spirit,"  with  all  its  imperfections  on  its  head,  is  already  in  Purgatory. 
What  a  placid  beauty  in  the  reclining  attitude  of  the  corpse!  A 
graceful  ease,  which  finely  contrasts  with  the  crouching  curve  of  the 
villain.  It  is  a  posture  which  a  lady  on  a  sofa  might  study  with  ad- 
vantage— yet  manly,  royal — in  sleep,  in  death,  he  is  "  every  inch  a 
king." 

Shepherd.  And  the  artist  o'  that  is  a  German  ?  I  can  hardly  credit 
it 

Ntrih.  The  antique  garniture  of  the  Arbor — the  Gothic  fretwork 
— the  grotesque  imagery — the  grim  figure  of  Justice  with  her  sword 
and  scale — all  seem  to  sympathize  with  the  horrid  act— and  bear  a 
charmed  life,  a  reflection  of  sad  mortality. 

Shepherd.  Oh  !  sir !  but  Claudius  is  an  ugly  heathen. 

Tickler.  Is  he  not,  James — not  indeed  too  bad  a  villain — but  too 
low  a  scoundrel  ?  He  could  not  be  the  brother  of  a  king — he  could 
seduce  no  woman  who  was  not  degraded  below  all  degradation — and 
the  mother  of  Hamlet  is  still  a  queen.  He  is  downright  physically 
disgusting.  Retzsch  has  embodied  the  grossest  issues  of  Hamlet's 
hatred.  He  has  combined  in  a  human  form  the  various  deforn'ities 
of  a  satyr,  a  drunkard,  a  paddock,  a  bat,  a  gib,  a  slave — and,  alto- 
gether, has  produced  a  true  semblance  of  one  of  those  hoaiy  mis- 
creants who  are  brought  up  to  Bow-street  or  Marlborough  Oflace  for 
assaults  upon  female  infants.  His  vile  low  forehead,  whalley  eyes, 
pendulous  cheeks,  and  filthy  he-goatish  beard — fob— the  nobles  of 
Denmark  would  never  have  compounded  felony  with  such  "  a  cut- 
purse  of  the  empire." 

Shepherd.  But  you'll  find,  sir,  that  Shakspeare's  Claudius  is  really 
«uch  a  monster. 

North.  No,  James — ^no. 

Shepherd.  But  Hamlet  says  sae 

North,  No  matter  what  Hamlet  says.  Hamlet  utters  his  own 
sentiments,  not  Shakspeare's — and  hatred  is  twenty  fold  blinder  than 
love.  Now,  I  really  think,  that  sensualist,  adulterer,  fratricide,  and 
usurper  as  he  is,  Claudius  has  royal  blood  in  his  veins,  and,  for  an 
usurper,  plays  the  King's  part  rarely.  Even  the  Ghost  ascribes  to 
him  "  witchcraft  of  wit ;  "  and  accordingly  he  is  a  fine  talker,  a  florid 
rhetorical  speaker,  not  unfurnished  with  common-places  of  morality, 
and  thoroughly  capable  of  sustaining  his  assumed  dignity.  His  re- 
proof of  Hamlet's  perseverent  woe  would  have  done  credit  to  a  bet 
ter  man. 

J  to  peraevere 

Id  obetinate  oondolement,  is  a  ooaree 
Of  impious  stubbonmess ;  'tis  UDmaiily  g^ef, 
It  shows  a  will  most  incorrect  to  Heayeo ; 
A  heart  unfortifady  or  mind  impatient ; 
An  understanding  simple  and  unsohool'd; 


Digitized  by 


Google 


164  NOOTES   A3IBB0SIAN-B. 

For  what  we  know,  maBt  be,  and  is  as  common 
As  any  the  most  vulgar  things  to  sense, 
Why  should  we,  in  our  peevish  opposition, 
Take  it  to  heart!    Fie,  tis  a  fault  to  Heaven, 
A  fault  against  the  dead,  a  fault  to  natiu*e, 
To  reason  most  absurd,  whose  common  theme 
Is — Death  of  Fathers  I 

Shepherd,  That's  orthodox  divioity,  sure  aneuch  ! 

North,  Nay,  when  his  conscience  will  let  him,  he  lacks  not  courage 
— when  assailed  by  Laertes,  be  behaves  like  a  prince,  and  speaks 
like  a  Tory. 

Let  him  go,  Gertrude ;  do  not  fear  our  person, 
There's  such  Divinity  doth  hedge  a  king. 
That  treason  can  but  peep  at  what  it  would. 
Acts  little  of  his  will 

Shepherd,  He  may  speak  like  a  Tory,  but  he  acts  like  a  Whig. 

North,  Forget  party  for  a  night,  James.  Shakspeare,  in  short, 
was  aware,  and  here  Retzsch  seems  to  have  forgotten,  that  great 
moral  guilt  may  coexist  with  much  personal  or  official  dignity,  and 
even  with  acute  intellectual  perceptions  of  right  and  wrong. 

Shepherd,  Turn  ower  to  the  Ghost,  sir — gin  ye  please. 

**  By  Heaven,  Fll  make  a  Ghost  of  him  that  lets  me.* 

North,  Lo !  Young  Hamlet  beckoned  away  by  the  Ghost,  who 
stands  in  the  distance,  dim  and  shadowy,  ghostly  indeed  and  kinglike, 
is  bursting  from  his  friends,  whose  admonitory,  dissuasive  counten- 
ances interpret  their  fears.  There  is  nothing  of  rage  or  violence,  you 
see,  James,  in  his  deportment — nothing  but  the  self-transcending  en- 
ergy of  one,  whose  fate  cries  out.  Never  did  art  produce  a  finer 
sample  of  manly  beauty  in  its  vernal  summer.  We  can  see  that  his 
downy  cheek  is  smooth  and  blooming  as  a  virgin's ;  and  yet  he  is 
the  man  complete — the  soldier,  scholar,  courtier — the  beloved  of 
Ophelia — "  the  beautiful,  the  brave."  Perhaps  he  is  even  too  beau- 
tiful—not that  he  is  effeminate — but  the  moody,  moon-struck  Ham- 
let must  needs  have  had  a  darker  and  a  heavier  brow. 

Shepherd,  Which  is  Horautio  I 

North,  That.  Horatio,  here  and  throughout  is  a  sensible,  gentle- 
manlike young  man,  and  Marcellus  a  fair  militia  officer. 

Shepherd,  Eh !  here's  the  soliloquy ! 

North,  To  say  that  it  is  a  picture  of  Hamlet  uttering  that  solilo- 
quy, would  be  to  attribute  to  the  pencil  a  skill  which  it  does  not 
possess.  But  it  is  evidently  the  picture  of  a  man  speaking — reason- 
ing to  himself— a  rare  advantage  over  the  generality  of  theatrical 
portraits,  which  generally  stare  out  of  the  canvas  or  paper,  just  as  if 
they  were  spouting  to  the  pit,  or  familiarly  eyeing  the  gallery. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


THE   PLAY   IN   HAMLBT.  165 

Hamlet  stands  in  the  centre — his  body  firm  and  erect,  his  head 
downcast,  hands  slightly  raised.  He  is  manifestly  in  a  state  of  in- 
ward conflict,  and  strong  mental  exertion — not  in  a  passive  day-dream, 
or  brown  study.  On  the  one  side,  Ophelia  sits  sewing — her  hands 
suspended,  her  countenance  marked  with  affectionate  anxiety.  On 
the  other,  the  King  and  Polonius,  watching,  the  one  with  malicious, 
the  other  with  curious  in  ten  tn  ess.  Retzsch  has  admirably  represented 
the  popular  idea  of  Polonius ;  but  when  he  visits  England,  he  may 
perhaps  find,  among  our  venerable  Nobles,  a  more  adequate  repre- 
sentative of  the  Polonius  of  Shakspeare. 

Shepherd,  Was  ye  speakin*  the  noo,  sir,  for  I  didna  hear  your 
vice? 

North,  Beauty,  Innocence,  and  Sorrow,  each  in  their  loveliest  dresa, 
unite  in  the  simple  figure.  Most  wonderful  and  excellent  is  the  art, 
that  with  a  few  strokes  of  the  pencil  can  produce  a  being  whom  at 
once  we  know,  and  love,  and  pity.  Hamlet,  seated  at  her  feet,  his 
eye  fixed  like  a  Basilisk  on  the  King,  with  uplifted  finger,  expounds 
*'  the  Mouse  Trap."  **  He  poisons  him  in  the  garden  for  his  estate. 
You  shall  see  anon,  how  the  murderer  gets  the  love  of  Gonzago's 
wife."  The  King,  with  averted  face,  draws  back  his  chair,  as  in  the 
act  of  rising.  The  Queen,  a  royal  matron,  still  noble  and  beautiful 
— though  guilt,  and  care,  and  years  have  set  their  several  marks  up- 
on  her — holds  up  her  hands  in  astonishment,  but  shows  no  fear.  She 
evidently  was  not  privy  to  the  murder.  The  rest  of  the  audience 
are  merely  amazed,  or  it  may  be,  chagrined  at  the  interruption  of 
their  entertainment.  Ophelia,  pensive  and  heart-broken,  yet  think- 
ing no  evil,  scarce  perceives  what  is  passing. 

Shepherd,  Puir  creter ! 

North,  But,  look  here,  my  dear  Shepherd — look  here.  The  King 
is  praying — no,  pray  he  cannot — the  picture  tells  it.  We  compas- 
sionate, even  this  miscreant,  under  the  severest  of  all  Heaven's 
judgments.  Not  so  does  Hamlet.  **  Up,  sword,  and  know  thou  a 
more  horrid  bent,"  is  clearly  blazoned  in  his  own  act  and  visage. 
That  was  one  of  the  speeches  which  Shakspeare,  had  he  lived  in 
these  days,  would  not  have  written — nor  would  he,  in  the  golden 
days  of  Queen  Bess,  or  King  Jamie,  have  put  it  into  the  mouth  of 
Hamlet,  had  he  meant  to  represent  him  as  a  sane  and  exemplary 
youth.  Yet  I  know  not  whether  the  notion  of  retributive  vengeance 
as  a  propitiation  to  the  departed,  will  not  justify  even  this  horrid 
scruple.  The  speech,  whatever  it  were  meant  for,  certainly  is  a  tre- 
mendous satire  on  revenge. 

Shepherd.  It  gars  me  grue  and  greet.* 

North,  Afler  the  last  confirmation  of  the  king's  guilt,  Hamlet, 
fooled  to  the  top  of  his  bent  by  successive  intruders,  and  screwing 

•  Ort'e  and  ffrfft—thndier  and  we«p. — M, 


Digitized  by 


Google 


166  NOCTBS   AMBBOSIAN^. 

up  his  spirits  for  the  interview  with  his  mother,  not  only  is,  but  ooD- 
fesses  himself  maddened. 

Now  could  I  drink  hot  blood, 

And  do  Buch  business  as  the  bitter  day 

Would  quake  to  look  oa 

He  even  contemplates,  while  he  deprecates,  the  possibility  of  his 
"  heart  losing  its  nature."  Just  then,  "  at  the  very  witching  time 
of  night,"  "  when  hell  itself  breathes  out  contagion  to  this  world," 
he  crosses  the  chamber  where  the  king  is  kneeling.  The  opportunity 
strikes  him,  but  his  natural  disinclination  to  action  intervenes,  with 
somewhat  of  a  secret  consciousness,  that  the  moment  of  repentance 
is  not  the  time  of  vengeance.  Still,  so  utterly  are  his  feelings 
envenomed  against  the  poor  culprit,  and  so  strangely  his  moral  sense 
perplexed  by  "  supernatural  soliciting,"  that  even  remorse  itself  is 
turned  to  cruelty,  and  he  vindicates  the  adjournment  of  the  blow  by 
arguments,  which  certainly  "  have  no  relish  of  salvation  in  them," 
but  which,  perhaps,  sounded  less  impious  in  an  age,  when  every 
staunch  Protestant,  no  less  than  his  Catholic  cousin,  thought  himself 
bound  to  believe  in  the  eternal  perdition  of  their  dissentient  neigh- 
bors. 

Shepherd,  I  can  look  at  it  nae  langer ;  turn  ower,  sir,  turn  ower 
to  Ophelia ! 

North,  Here  it  is, — the  madness  of  Ophelia !  She  b  still  lovely 
— still  the  same  Ophelia — but  how  changed !  Her  aspect  tells  of 
fierce  conflicting  woes — but  they  are  past.  Surely  that  bereavement 
of  reason,  which  to  man  appears  so  cruel,  is  a  dispensation  of  mercy ! 
She  scatters  her  flowers — rue,  for  remembrance,  and  pansies  for 
thoughts — and  warbles  snatches  of  old  songs — such  as  she  may  have 
overheard  in  her  childhood,  without  knowing  what  the  words  imply, 
only  that  they  tell  of  love  and  death-— of  faithless  love  and  death 
untimely ! 

Shepherd,  Can  yon  be  the  cauld  roun'  that  I  see  on  the  side-board 
through  a  sort  o'  mist  afore  my  een  1  If  sae,  let  us  baith  hae  a 
shave,  wi'  moostard  and  vinegar — for  it's  a  gae  while  syne  sooper, 
and  you  look  yawp,  sir. 

{The  Shepherd  cuts  dexterously  a  plateful  of  heef^  with 
much  taste  interlarding  the  lean  with  the  fat.) 

North.  Afler  a  hot  and  heavy  supper,  James,  it  is  dangerous  to 
go  to  bed,  without  a  trifle  of  something  light  and  cold— and  no 
well-regulated  private  or  public  house  should  ever  be  without  a 
Round.     Thank  you,  James,  thank  you. 

Shepherd.  Saw  ever  ony  body  the  likes  o'  that  ?  The  trencher 
was  meant  for  us  baith  to  fill  our  ain  plates  afl*'t,  and  instead  o'  that, 
there  hae  you  ta'en  the  trencher  to  yoursell,  and  are  absolutely 


Digitized  by 


Google 


THE  ANNUAM.  167 

eatin*  awa  M  it,  first  a  link  o'  lean  and  then  a  dab  o'  fat,  as  if  you 
hadna  seen  butcher-meat  for  a  towmont,  and  I'm  obleeged  to  hae  the 
trouble  o'  gangin'  again  to  the  sideboard. 

North.  Have  you  seen  any  of  the  Annuals,  James  1 

Shtphei'd,  No  ane.     But  I've  contributed  to  several  o'  them. 

North,  I  see  you  have,  my  dear  Shepherd,  and  that  most  potently 
and  effectively  to  the  Anniversary*  and  the  Forget-me-Not.  I  could, 
vould,  and  should  have  had  an  admirable  article  on  all  the  Annuals 
this  month,  had  the  editors  or  publishers  had  the  sense  to  send  me 
their  Flowers  ;  but  they  have  not,  with  the  exception  of  Allan  Cun- 
ningham, Mr.  Ackermann,  Mr.  Crofton  Croker,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Hall. 

Shepherd,  First  come  first  served.  What  for  no  hae  a  review  o' 
them  by  themsells  ? 

North,  Because  I  hate  any  thing  that  can  possibly  be  mistaken  by 
the  weakest  mind  for  the  appearance  of  partiality. 

Shepherd,  Whoo  I  That's  hae'in  ower  thin-skinned  a  conscience. 
Is  the  Anniversary  gude. 

North,  If  any  of  the  others  be  better,  their  Editors  must  have 
made  a  wonderful  improvement  on  them  since  the  last  show  of 
Christmas  roses.  Allan  Cunningham,  as  Sir  Walter  has  said,  is  an 
honor  to  Scotland  ;  and  Scotland  alone  ought  to  take  a  large  edition 
of  the  Anniversary.  That  is  the  best  patronage  can  be  shown  to  a 
man  of  genius.  Allan  has  a  proud  and  independent  spirit,  and  ap- 
peals to  his  country.  She  knows  his  worth — and  each  son  and 
daughter  of  hers  knows  how  to  reward  it.  His  own  poetry  is  per- 
haps the  best  in  the  volume — though  it  contains  poems  of  consider- 
able length — by  yourself,  James,  Mr.  Southey,  and  Professor 
Wilson.  Your  Carle  of  Invertime,  is  one  of  your  most  beautiful 
efiusions,  and  its  spirit  reminds  one  of  the  Kilmeny  and  Mary  Lee. 
But  your  prose  tale  of  Death  and  Judgment  is  one  of  the  most 
powerful  things  you  ever  did,  James — and  I  will  back  it  against  all 
the  other  prose  compositions  in  all  the  other  Annuals — Cameronian 
against  the  field. 

Shepherd,  Ony  gude  poetry  by  ony  ither  contributors  ? 

North,  One  of  the  best  Dramatic  Scenes  ever  Barry  Cornwall 
wrote — and  a  singularly  beautiful  poem,  full  of  feeling  and  fancy, 
entitled,  "Sorrows  of  Hope,"  by  George  Darley,f  the  ingenious 
author  of  a  dramatic  poem  of  a  fairy  nature,  which  I  remember 
reading  with  pleasure  a  year  ago,  Cynthia's  Revels — some  fine  vigor- 

*  TJm  Jlnnvoeraary  wu  an  Annual,  pnblislied  in  1828,^nd  edited  br  Allan  Cunningham. 
Aokennann,  who  was  the  founder  of  Annuals  in  England,  publishea  the  FlarfeUM€-J^ot\ 
Crofton  Croker  edited  The  CkrittmaS'Box ;  Mn.  8.  C.  Uall,  The  Jvvenile  Forget-Me-J^ot ; 
and  Mr.  HaU,  The  ^mvUU—yL. 

t  Geor|^e  Barley,  who  is  dead,  was  also  author  of  the  critical  remarks  signed  D.  ^—  (I., 
with  which  each  number  of  Cumberland's  British  Drama  is  prefaced. — M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


168  NOOTES  AHBBOSIAN^. 

ous  verses  by  Lockhart ;  and  two  scenes,  strange  and  spirited,  by 
Lord  Leveson  Gower,  from  Schiller's  Camp  of  Wallenstein,  hitherto 
supposed  untranslatable.* 

Shepherd.  What  poems  has  Cunningham  wrote  himsell  ? 

North,  The  chief  is  the  Magic  Bridle— quite  in  the  style  and  spirit 
o'  Tarn  o'  Shanter. 

Shepherd.  What  else? 

North,  Don't  make  so  much  munchin  wi'  your  mouth,  and  I  will 
repeat  you 

Shepherd,  I  dinna  mak  nae  mair  munchin  wi'  my  mouth  nor  you 
do  yoursell — no,  nor  half  sae  muckle— and  naebody  can  say  they 
ever  heard  my  jaws  or  cheek  banes  playin'  clunk,  clunk,  like  yours 
when  you're  eatin' — a  soun*  for  which  I  could  aflen  amaist  murder 
you  by  stickin'  the  CArvin'  knife  into  your  verra  heart. 

North,  Hush!  I  got  by  heart  Allan's  verses,  entitled,  "The 
Mother  Praying,"  on  two  readings,  and  that's  a  strong  proof  of  their 
power  !  for  my  memory  is  weak.  They  are  indeed,  my  dear  James, 
the  passionate  breathings  of  a  true  poet  and  a  true  man.  Allan 
was  one  of  the  best  of  sons — and  is  one  of  the  best  of  husbands  and 
fathers. 

Shepherd,  And  I  hope  sits  wi'  his  family  in  his  frien'  Irving's  kirk 
— and  no  in  an  Episcopawlian  chapel. 

North,  Why,  James,  one  of  the  curiosities  of  the  Anniversary  is 
a  tale — for,  as  Wordsworth  says,  if  you  be  wise,  you  "  may  find  a 
tale  in  every  thing" — by  Edward  Irving.f  There  is  an  earnestness, 
a  sincerity,  and  a  solemnity  about  it,  which  is  affecting  and  imprea- 
sive,  in  the  almost  total  want  of  incident ;  and  often  as  religious  old 
women  have  been  described,  sitting  with  their  dim  spectacled  eyes, 
and  withered  hand  on  the  Bible,  and  discoursing  on  the  suffering 
saints  of  old,  Mr.  Irving's  old  woman  is  brought  before  our  mind's 
eye,  so  as  to  touch  our  hearts  with  reverence  for  her  and  her  faith. 

Shepherd,  Is't  a  bonny  book  ? 

North,  Most  beautifully  embellished,  and  most  exquisitely  print- 
ed. The  engravings  are  all  from  paintings  by  the  first  masters,  and 
the  subjects  are  well  chosen — probably  by  the  publisher,  Mr.  Sharpe, 
who  has  long  been  distinguished  by  taste  and  judgment  in  the  fine 
aits.  In  short,  the  Anniversary  is  sure  of  splendid  success.  Mine 
is  but  a  rough  copy. 

*  L(ad  Francis  LerMon  Oower  wu  Mcond  son  of  the  lat«  Duke  of  Sntherland,  and  asinmed 
the  name  of  Egerton  on  the  death  of  the  Earl  of  Bridsewater,  who  bequeathed  him  eetatei 
worth  £IUO,OUO  a-jear.  He  has  been  Secretarj  for  Ireland  and  Secretary  at  War,  and  was 
sent  to  New  York,  in  1853,  as  Queen  Victorians  principal  Commissioner  to  the  Crystal  Palace. 
In  politics  he  has  been  a  liberal  ConsenratiTe.  He  has  considerable  literary  taste,  and  (besides 
translations  from  Oodthe,  Schiller,  aAd  Kdrner,  and  other  German  writers,)  published  a  rolmne 
called  Mediterranean  Sketches.  In  1646,  he  was  created  Earl  of  EUesmere.  He  was  bom  ia 
ISO).— M. 

t  The  Rer.  Edward  Irving,  the  eloquent  and  popular  minister  of  the  Scotch  Chuich,  in  Loa 
don.  -M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


MAKY   EU88ELL  MTTFORD.  169 

Shepherd,  And  sae  is  Mr.  Ackermann's  Forget-me-Not  sure  o' 
success  too — the  auldest  Annual  o'  them  a'. 

North,  And  one  of  the  fairest  and  freshest  too,  James.  Its  em- 
bellishments are  beautiful.  Martin's  Curtius  leaping  into  the  Gulf 
is  most  magnificent — most  glorious.  Lo !  borne  along  in  a  clear 
space,  surrounded  by  a  mighty  multitude,  and  overshadowed  by 
palaces  and  temples,  the  Capitol  shrouded  in  a  stormy  sky  all  tor- 
mented with  lightning,  on  a  snow-white  horse,  with  a  far-streaming 
tail,  and  neck  clothed  with  thunder — with  his  shield  alofl  on  his 
arm,  and  his  helmeted  head  with  plumes  all  elate,  even  as  if  flying, 
in  front  of  both  armies,  against  some  champion  about  to  advance 
from  the  barbaric  host,  that  the  dread  issue  may  be  decided  by  sin- 
gle combat — **  The  Devoted'*  is  already  on — over — the  very  edge 
of  the  abyss,  and  in  another  moment  her  savior  will  sink  from  the 
sight  of  shuddering  and  shrieking  Rome.  That  is  indeed  a  triumph  ! 
No  wonder,  James,  that  the  Seven-hilled  City  was  the  Mistress  of 
the  World.* 

Shepherd,  Your  words  gie  me  the  guseskin  a'  ower  my  body, — 
and  what  o'  the  letter-press? 

North,  Your  Eastern  Apologue  is  admirable — and  I  hope  you 
were  well  paid  for  it,  my  dear  Shepherd. 

Shepherd,  There's  no  a  mair  just,  nay,  generous  man,  in  his  deal 
ins  wi'  his  authors,  in  a'  the  tredd,  than  Mr.  Ackermann. 

North,  He  has  got  that  charming  painter  of  rural  life.  Miss  Mit- 
ford,  to  brandish  her  Bramah  for 

Shepherd,  Oh,  sir,  but  that  leddy  has  in  truth  a  fine  and  a  bauld 
haun',  either  at  a  sketch  or  a  finished  picture. 

North,  Miss  Mitfordf  seems  to  have  a  strong  passion  for 
cricket  — 

Shepherd,  Crickets  are  cheerfu'  creatures 

*  A  very  iraall  engraving,  from  a  design  by  John  Martin,  -whose  Destrnction  of  Heronla- 
nenm,  Beishazzar's  teasl,  Destruction  of  Babylon,  The  Deluge,  Joshua,  and  other  works,  have 
shown  him  to  be  one  of  the  greatest  of  modern  painters — unapproached,  it  may  even  be  de- 
clared, ill  his  representatioiis  of  Vastness.  "That,''  said  Bulwer,  •  is  his  sphere — yet  he  has 
not  lost  or  circumfused  his  gonius  in  its  sphere  ;  he  has  chained,  and  wielded,  and  measured 
it  at  his  will ;  he  has  transfused  its  character  into  i. arrow  limilB  :  he  has  compassed  the  infi- 
nite itself  with  mathematical  Jirecision."    Martin  died  early  in  IS54,  aged  sixty-five. — M. 

t  Of  all  modern  English  female  writers,  Mary  Rus&oll  Mitford  is  the  most  natural,  pleasing, 
&nd  unaffected.  She  was  born  in  17H(},  was  educated  iu  London,  and  removed,  with  her 
father,  to  the  vicinity  of  Reading,  at  the  age  of  fifteen,  where  she  published  several  volumes  of 
roung-lady  poetry  between  1810  and  1?;13.  Her  father,  who  was  extravagant  as  well  as  care- 
less in  money-matters,  ran  through  a  large  inherited  fortune  (increased  bv  a  £'20.000  prize  in 
the  lottery,)  and  had  to  break  up  their  expensive  establishment  and  retire  to  a  small  cottage  in 
the  village  of  Three  Mile  Cross,  near  Readine.  Here  she  wrote  some  of  the  prose  sketches 
which  auerwards  appeared  in  '  Our  Village,"  out,  Campbell  and  others  rejecting  them,  had 
to  put  them  into  the  Lady's  Magazine.  When  collected,  in  18S23,  their  success  was  immediate 
and  great.  A  second  series  appeared  in  IS26  ;  a  third  in  ls28  ;  a  fourth  in  l^^iO  ;  and  a  fifth  in 
laSa.  She  published  a  work  called  Bedford  Regis,  in  1835  ;  Country  Stories  in  1837  ;  Recol- 
lections of  a  Literary  Life  in  1^50;  and  Atherton  and  other  stories  in  lf','34.  i^^he  also  wrote 
several  dramatic  pieces,  of  which  the  following  have  been  successful  in  representation  : — The 
tragedy  of  Rienzi,  at  Drury  Lane,  and  the  opera  of  Sadak  and  Kalesrode,  at  the  English  Opera 
House.    Her  father  died  in  1642     She  now  resides  at  Swallowfield,  in  Berkshire  — U 


Digitized  by 


Google 


170  N00TB8   AHBBOSIANiB. 

NortK  For  the  game  called  cricket,  James.  Yet  I  trust  I  shall 
be  forgiven  for  whispering  into  a  fair  ear,  that  ladies  never  can 
make  themselves  mistresses  of  the  rules,  technicalities,  and  charac- 
ter  of  male  games.  Who  but  Miss  Mitford  ever  heard  of  a  cricket- 
ball  being  thrown  ^y^  hundred  yards?  One  hundred,  it  is  well 
known  to  all  cricketers,  is  about  the  "top  of  their  bent;"  and  De 
Foe  the  pugilist,  who  has  beaten  all  England  at  that  feat,  has  thrown 
it  a  very  few  yards  farther — five  or  six  at  the  utmost.  Were  you 
or  I,  James,  to  commit  a  mistake  equivalent  to  this,  when  writing 
about  any  female  avocation  or  pastime,  how  would  this  lady's 
intelligent  countenance  be  lighted  up  with  the  sweet  sarcasm  of  a 
smile ! 

Shepherd,  It's  a  maitter  o'  nae  earthly  consequence.  She's  a 
jewel  o'  a  writer — and  though,  like  a'  ither  folk  that's  voluminous, 
unequal, — yet  dull  or  stoopit  she  never  is,  and  that  gangs  a  lang 
way  towards  makin'  either  man  or  woman  popular. 

North.  The  "  Amulet"  has  always  been  an  especial  favorite  of 
mine,  and  it  works  more  charms  and  wonders  this  year  than  ever. 
Its  embellishments  are  all  good — some  exquisite.  Nothing  can  sur- 
pass the  Spanish  Flower  Girl,  by  R.  Graves  from  Murillo-— the 
Rose  of  Castle  Howard,  by  Portbury,  from  Jackson — or  the  Moun 
tain  Daisy,  by  Armstrong,  from  Sir  Thomas  Lawrence.*  The  lite- 
rary contributions  to  the  Amulet  have  always  been  selected  with 
much  taste  and  judgment,  and  no  less  distinguished  by  talent,  than 
by  a  pure  moral  and  sound  religious  feeling;  which  latter  merit 
has,  I  understand,  secured  for  it  a  very  wide  circulation  among  those 
who  are  not  satisfied  with  works  even  of  light  amusement,  unless 
they  contribute,  at  the  same  time,  to  expand  or  enlighten  the  mind 
to  the  feeling  and  perception  of  higher  truths.  The  editor  is,  mani- 
festly, an  able  and  amiable  man,  and  the  Amulet  is  now  one  of  the 
most  firmly  established  of  all  the  Annuals. 

Shepherd,  Does  that  dear,  delightfu'  ereter,  Mrs.  Hemans,  conti- 
nue to  contribute  to  ilka  Annual,  ane  or  twa  o'  her  malst  beautifu* 
poems? 

North,  She  does  so. 

Shepherd,  It's  no  in  that  woman's  power,  sir,  to  write  ill ;  for, 
when  a  feeling  heart  and  a  fine  genius  forgather  in  the  bosom  o'  a 
young  matron,  every  line  o'  poetry  is  like  a  sad  or  cheerfu'  smile 
frae  her  een,  and  every  poem,  whatever  be  the  subject,  in  ae  sense 

*  Mnrillo't  rpanisli  Flower  Oirl  is  in  the  Dnlwich  Gallery,  near  London.— John  Jaokaon, 
the  portrait-painter,  -who  died  in  1831,  aged  fiftj-three,  was  one  of  the  most  natural  of  the 
English  artists.— Sir  Thomas  Lawrence,  President  of  the  Rojal  Academy,  and,  for  nearly  forty 
years,  the  most  fashionable  portrait-painter  in  London,  died  in  lb90,  aged  sixty-one.  Hia 
female  likenesses,  though  brilliant  in  tone  and  faithful  in  resemblance,  Had  such  a  meretri- 
•ions  air,  that  a  nobleman  who  took  much  interest  in  the  fine  arts,  and  knew  how  to  value  th* 
natural  in  portraiture,  said,  **  I  would  employ  Jackaon  to  paint  my  wiCs  and  Lawrence  my 
miatress."— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


ENGUBH  ▲TJTHOBS  Vfl 

a  picture  o*  hersel' — sae  that  a'  she  writes  has  an  afiectin'  and  an 
endearin'  mainnerism  and  moralism  about  it,  that  inspires  the 
thochtfu'  reader  to  say  in  to  himsel' — that's  Mrs.  Hemans. 

North.  From  very  infancy  Felicia  Dorothea  was  beloved  by  the 
Muses.*  I  remember  patting  her  fair  head  when  she  was  a  child  of 
nine  years — and  versified  even  then  with  a  touching  sweetness  about 
sylphs  and  fairies. 

Shepherd.  Early  female  geniuses,  I  observe,  for  the  maist  pairt 
turn  out  brichter  in  after  life  than  male  anes.  Male  anes  generally 
turn  stoopiter  and  stoopiter — till  by  thirty  they're  sumphs. 

North.  I  fear  it  is  too  true.  Miss  Bowles  is  equal  to  Mrs.  He- 
mans.! Aye,  that  Andrew  Cleaves  in  the  Magazine  was  a  subduing 
tole. 

Shepherd.  Wha  are  thae  three  brothers  and  sisters,  the  Howitto, 
sir,  whose  names  I  see  in  the  adverteesements  1 

North.  I  do  not  know,  James.  It  runs  in  my  head  that  they  are 
Quakers.  Richard  and  William — they  will  not  be  angry  if  I  mistake 
their  names — seem  amiable  and  ingenious  men — and  sister  Mary 
writes  beautifully 

Shepherd,  What  do  you  mean  by  beautifully  ?     That's  vague. 

North.  Her  language  is  chaste  and  simple — her  feelings  tender 
and  pure — and  her  observation  of  nature  accurate  and  intense.  Her 
**  Studies  from  Natural  History"  in  the  Christmas  Box — the  Squirrel, 
Dormouse,  and  King  Fisher,  have  much  of  the  moral — say  rather  the 
religious  spirit  that  permeates  all  Wordsworth's  smallest  poems, 
however  seemingly  light  and  slight  the  subject — and  show  that  Mary 
Howittt  is  not  only  well  read  in  the  book  of  Bewick,  but  in  the  book 
from  which  Bewick  has  borrowed  all — glorious  plagiarist — and  every 
other  inspired  Zoologist  — 

Shepherd.  The  Book  o'  Natur 

North,  The  same,  James  ;  and  few — none  have  read  that  volume 
to  greater  purpose  than  yourself  You  have  not  seen  the  Christmas 
Box? 

Shepherd,  Mel     I  see  naething. 
.  North.  This  year  it  is  edited  by  one  of  the  most  agreeable  and  in- 
genious  gentlemen  in  all  England,  James — Mr.  Crofton  Croker.|| 

*  Mn.  Hem&nt  had  actually  pttbliahed  a  rolame  of  poems  when  she  waa  only  tvelre  yaan 
old,  and  had  oommencod  rene-writing  at  the  a^e  of  nine  I — M. 

t  Caroline  Bowles,  author  of  some  good  lyncs.  and  the  Chapters  on  Churchyards  which 
appeared  in  Blackwood.  She  is  now  the  widow  of  Dr.  Sonthey,  late  Poet-Laureate  of  England, 
and  has  been  placed  on  the  pension-list.     [She  died  in  July,  1854.]— M. 

X  William  and  Mary  Howitt  have  toeother  pursued  literature  with  a  success  which  has 
been  great  indeed.  The  wife  is  one  of  the  best  iyriitts  of  the  day,  excelling  in  ballad  poetry ; 
the  husband,  a  bold  and  vifforous  writer  also.  To  both,  the  English  and  American  public  are 
indebted  for  translations  of  the  works  of  Miss  Bremer,  Miss  Carlin,  and  other  foreign  writers 
of  fiction.    Mrs.  Howitt  has  herself  written  several  novels.— M. 

y  Thomas  Crofton  Croker,  born  in  Cork,  in  January,  1798,  and  before  he  had  ended  his 
seventeenth  year,  had  walked  over  the  greater  part  of  his  native  county,  gathering  a  vast 
number  of  anecdotes,  legends,  accounts  of  ancient  customs,  &o.    In  1818  he  quitted  Ireland 


Digitized  by 


Google 


172  NOOTES    iMBEOSIAH^ 

Shepherd,  What !  him  that  put  out  the  Fairy  Legends  o'  Eerlaud  ? 
Yen's  twa  delichtfu'  volumes.  Is't  true  that  the  lairies  ran  awa  wi' 
Mr.  Crofton  when  he  was  a  wean  I 

North.  Perfectly  true.  He  possesses  in  perfection  the  indescrib- 
able wit  of  his  country. 

Sh€j)herd,  You  may  weel  ca'  it  that ;  but  the  Box  is  really  fa'  o' 
gude  things,  is't,  sir? 

North,  Garry  Owen,  or  the  Snow-Woman,  a  tale,  by  Miss  Edge- 
worth,*  one  of  her  happiest  productions,  would  of  itself  float  a  heavy 
volume,  but  the  volume  is  as  light  as  a  many-winged  butterfly,  wa- 
vering, like  an  animated  flower,  in  the  sunshine. 

Shepherd.  Wha  else  writes  for  it  ? 

North,  Mrs.  Jameson,  the  authoress,  as  I  have  heard,  of  the  very 
interesting  Diary  of  an  Ennuye,  has  contributed  a  dramatic  proverb, 
called  *'  The  more  Coin  the  more  Care,"  full  of  naivete  and  nature, 
a  homely  humor  and  a  homely  pathos,  which  make  the  reader  pleased 
with  himself,  with  the  fair  writer,  with  the  Christmas  Box,  with  the 
public,  with  the  world,  with  human  life,  and  with  things  in  general.f 

Shepherd,  A  weel  conceived  and  original  trifle  is  apter  to  do  a' 
that  than  a  mair  elaborate  wark. 

North,  There  is  also  a  capital  thing  by  our  friend,  Major  Beamish, 
who,  like  a  hundred  other  British  oflicers,  handles  the  pen  as  well  as 
the  sword. 

Shepherd,  What  o'  the  embellishments  ! 
•   North,  The  less  that's  said  about  them  the  better,  James. 

Shepherd,  Toot,  toot — that's  a  pity — I'm  sorry  for  that  — 

North,  Because  no  words  of  mine  could  do  justice  to  the  fertile 
fancy,  the  magical  imagination  of  Mr.  Brooke.  With  a  few  touches 
he  peoples  the  page  with  phantoms  of  grace,  pensive,  or  fentastic, 
and  by  means  of  them  brings  into  contact,  or  rather  blends  together, 
the  waking  world  and  the  world  of  sleep. 

and  received  an  appointment  in  the  Admiralty  from  Secretary  Croker.  In  January,  IS34, 
appeared  liis  Researches  in  the  South  of  Ireland,  a  quarto  volume,  which  met  vr'wh.  some  huc- 
ce6».  In  1S2.\  his  I 'airy  Legends  of  the  South  of  Ireland  appeared  anonymotiHly.  was  extremely 
popular,  was  printed  in  the  Quarterly  and  Kdinburph  ReviewB.  ana  elicited  a  high  compli- 
men'arj'  letter  from  Fir  Waller  kScott.  vho  met  hiiu  in  I^*J«>.  and  ha^i  described  him  a«  bein; 
"  littlp  na  a  dwarf,  keen-eyod  a«  a  hawk,  and  of  rasy,  proJ•os^e^'^in^  manners— Bomething  lika 
Tom  Moore,''  A  eecond  .>«pries  of  the  Fairy  Lef^'^nds  wa*  a*  suceesMiful  a«  the  first,  and  wa« 
illufelrat*  d  with  etchinfis  afl'-r  drawings  by  Mnclise.  Two  more  volumes  appeared  in  lisST,  in 
which  aif  -noil  as  in  the  fcillnwjnp  \ear  he  puitod  an  annual  called  the  Christmas  Box.  In 
lb'2().  Logf'iids  of  the  Lakes  [of  Killarney]  ;  in  1H32.  his  Adventures  of  Barnev  Mahoney  and 
My  Village  fi^ainsi  Our  ViKa'.'e  ;  in  I  ^41 ,  a  Ili^tory  of  the  ane.ient  Iri&h  city  of  Kilmaliork.  of 
vhi'  a  only  one  cupy  \va!«  pnr.ied,  find  thiit  w.is  iiW^n  to  Moore  :  in  1>39.  The  Popular  ISunpi 
of  Irelmd  ;  and.  dunn;:  tho  l;i>t  hve-and-iwenty  years  he  has  edited  a  variety  of  antiquarian 
and  literary  works.  He  is  a  pood  artift,  Mr.  Croker's  latest  publication  may  be  baid  to  be 
American— inri>iinuch  as  it  is  a  lon^,  .nearehinfr,  and  not  very  complimentary  notice  of  tha 
Letter.-  of  Mo.  ro  to  his  mubic-publi.-her  Tou  er,  which  were  supprchsed  in  London,  at  th« 
instance  of  Moore's  editor.  Lord  John  Russell,  and  have  been  published  in  New  York,  with  an 
Intr  uuctory  Letter  by  Mr.  Croker.     [He  died  on  August  8,  Ia54,   aged  S?.]— M. 

•  It  Of  *  np:ed  over  fifty  pajje.s  in  the  Annunl.  and  was  afterwards  reprinted  separately. — M. 

f  Mrs.  JaineMn  has  ^ince  diatingtiished  henelf  by  researches  into,  and  cnticisnu  upon, 
Ancient  Art.— AJ. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


THE   ANNUALS.  173 

Shepherd.  Ho !  ho !  I  perceive  mony  a  young  heart  will  beat  wi' 
pleasure  on  receivin'  the  Christmas  Box.* 

North,  1  must  positively  write  one  of  my  delightful  articles  on 
Annuals  for  Childhood  and  Youth.  There's  the  Juvenile  Keepsake, 
edited  by  a  Roscoe — a  pledge  of  all  that  is  good ;  the  Juvenile 
Forget-me-Not,  by  Mrs.  Hall,  which  I  have  read,  and  it  is  excellent; 
and  another,  which  must  be  good,  by  Mrs.  A.  A.  Watts,  the  sister 
of  that  good  scholar,  pleasing  poet,  and  most  worthy  Quaker,  Wiffen 
of  Woburn.f 

Shepherd,  And   her  husband's  Souvenir  will  no  easily  be   sur- 


North.  Nor  equalled.  The  Souvenir  set  them  all  a-going,  but  it 
will  never  be  driven  off  the  road.  The  vehicle  is  not  only  lightly  and 
elegantly,  but  strongly  built ;  the  patent  springs  will  never  snap,  it 
is  well  horsed,  carries  good  company,  both  inside  and  out,  the  driver 
is  cautious  and  skilful,  and  the  guard  has  a  good  tongue  on  the  bugle. 
I  love  the  Souvenir. 

Shepherd,  Preserve  us,  how  many  are  there  o'  them  altogether  1 

North,  Heaven  knows.  There  is  a  critique  in  that  Literary 
Gazette,  James,  on  the  Gem,  edited  by  that  original  and  inimitable 
genius  in  his  way,  and  his  way  is  wider  and  more  various  than  most 
people  think — Thomas  Hood — and  the  verses  by  the  editor  himself, 
therein  quoted,  "  Eugene  Aram's  Dream,"  are  among  the  best  things 
I  have  seen  for  some  years. J 

Shepherd.  What  say  you  to  your  auld  frien'  Pringle,  the  editor 
o*  the  Friendship's  Offering,  sir  ? 

North.  I  say,  James,  that  Mr.  Pringle  is  himself  a  pleasing  poet 
and  amiable  man,  that  he  possesses  peculiar  qualifications  for  being 
the  Editor  of  an  Annual,  and  I  have  no  doubt  that  his  will  be  one  of 
the  best  of  the  whole  set.|  Then  there's  the  Bijou,  which  last  year 
was  exquisite — and  the  Keepsake — Heaven  preserve  us — with  all 
the  rank,  fashion,  and  genius  of  the  age.     It  will  prove  the  Grakd 

CONTUNDER. 

Shepherd,  The  Grand  Contundeh — what's  that  ? 

North.  Masonic. — Here,  Jaruos,  is  one  of  the  best,  because  most 

*  The  principal  oontributors  to  the  Christinas  Box,  besides  those  already  named,  were  8ii 
Walter  Scott.  Lockbart,  Charles  Lamb.  Harrii^on  Ainsvrorth,  Croker,  and  Doctor  Maffinn.—M. 

f  Thomas  Rofcoe,  son  of  William  RoBcoe  of  Liverpool,  and  Editor  of  the  Landscape 
Annual  and  Juvenile  Keepsake— Mrs.  S.  C  Hall,  the  well-known  Iriih  story- writer.— Mrs. 
Watts,  wife  of  A  ario  A.  Walls,  the  poet,  and  sister  of  Jeremiah  Holme  Wiffin,  (who  died 
1R36.)  translator  of  Tasso  into  Spenrerian  verite.— M. 

X  Thomas  Hood's  noble  ballad.  Tlio  Dream  cf  Eugene  Aram,  appeared  in  the  Gem  for  1829, 
(published  in  October,  IH'2^.)  which  he  edited.  The  prose  sketch,  called  the  Widow,  in  the 
•ame  rolume,  prnfepsing  to  bo  by  Elia.  was  an  imitation  of  Charles  Lamb,  by  Hood.  In  his 
later  years  there  was  more  harnanity  than  fun  in  Hood's  writings.  His  Song  of  the  Shirt 
(the  autocraph  of  which  I  possef^)  ha.s  done  much  to  remedy  the  sufferines  of  one  class  of  ill- 
paii  working  women.     Hood  was  bor-i  in  1798,  and  died  in  May,  1^45. — M, 

II  Thomas  Pringle  was  one  of  the  parties  attacked  in  the  Chaldee  Manuscriptf  and  conducted 
Blackwood  for  a  few  months  on  its  establishnrent  in  1817.  He  published  several  volumes  of 
pMtry  and  prose,  aad  died  in  1834.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


174  NOOTES   AMBBOSIAN^ 

business-like  prospectuses  I  ever  read— of  a  new  weekly  periodical, 
about  to  be  published  in  Edinburgh,  in  the  middle  of  November — 
The  Edinburgh  Literary  Journal.  From  what  1  know  of  the 
editor,  a  gentleman  of  talent,  spirit,  and  perseverance,  I  foretell  the 
book  will  prosper.* 

Shepherd,  1  shall  be  glad  o'  that,  for  ane  gets  tired  o'  that  eternal 
soun' — Blackwood's  Magazeen — Blackwood's  Magazeen— dinnin'  in 
ane's  lugs  day  and  nicht  a'  lifelong. 

North,  One  does  indeed. 

Enter  Mr.  Ambrose. 

Ambrose,  Agreeably  to  your  orders,  sir,  I  intrude  to  tell  you  that 
it  is  but  a  few  minutes  from  twelve,  and  your  coach  is  at  the  door. 

North,  My  dear  Shepherd,  we  always  keep  good  hours  on  a 
Saturday  night.     Come  and  take  a  bed  at  the  Lodge. 

Shepherd,  Wi*  pleasure ;  and  I'll  stay  ower  the  Sabbath,  without 
gaun  to  the  kirk,  for  I  like  to  hear  you  read  ane  o'  Blair's  Sermons 
— who  may  hae  been  nae  great  theologian ;  but  the  cretur  had  an 
unaccountable  insicht  into  human  natur.  {Exeunt) 

*  Henry  Glasford  Bnll,  now  deputy  KherifT  of  LanarkahireT  nnder  Sir  Archibald  Aliaon,  tli« 
historian,  projected  the  Edinburgh  JAterary  Journal^  a  weekly  publication,  half  magazine 
and  half  review,  the  best  of  its  class  that  ever  appeared  in  Scotland.    It  lired  through  thrM 

fears.  It  had,  among  other  features,  a  series  of  conversation  papers,  called  *'The  Editor  in 
is  Slipper*" — the  only  readable  imitation  of  the  Noctes,  (except  some  lively  dialo^es  in 
Knight's  Quarterly  Niagazine,)  I  have  yet  had  the  good  fortune  to  encounter.  Wilaon, 
Morehead,  Hogg,  Mrs.  Hemans,  Miss  Landon,  De  Quincey,  and  other  leading  writen  oomtati* 
bitted  to  the  Edinburgh  LiUrary  Journal.— i\. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


MB8*   GENTLB.  175 


No.  XL.— DECEMBER,  1828. 

SCENE  I.— The  Octagon— Time— -Ten. 

North — Shepherd — Tickler. 

North.  Thank  heaven,  my  dear  Shepherd,  Winter  is  come  again, 
and  Edinburgh  is  beginning  once  more  to  look  like  herself,  like  her 
name  and  her  nature,  with  rain,  mist,  sleet,  harr,  hail,  snow  I  hope, 
wind,  storm — would  that  we  could  but  add  a  little  thunder  and 
lightning.     The  Queen  of  the  North. 

Shepherd.  Hoo  could  you,  sir,  wi'  a'  your  time  at  your  ain  com- 
mand, keep  in  and  about  Embro'  frae  May  to  December  ?  The  city, 
for  three  months  in  the  dead  o'  simmer,  is  like  a  tomb. 

Tickler^  {in  a  whisper  to  the  Shepherd.)  The  widow — James — the 
widow. 

Shepherd^  {aloud.)  The  weedow — sir — the  weedow !  Couldna  he 
hae  brocht  her  out  wi'  him  to  the  Forest  ?  At  their  time  o'  life, 
surely  scandal  wud  hae  held  her  tongue. 

Tickler.  Scandal  never  holds  her  tongue,  James.  She  drops  her 
poison  upon  the  dew  on  the  virgin's  untimely  grave — her  breath 
will  not  let  the  gray  hairs  rest  in  the  mould 

Shepherd.  Then,  Mr.  North,  marry  her  at  ance,  and  bring  her  out 
in  Spring,  that  you  may  pass  the  hinneymoon  on  the  sunny  braes  o' 
Mount  Benger. 

North.  Why,  James,  the  moment  I  begin  to  press  matters,  she 
takes  out  her  pocket-handkerchief — and,  through  sighs  and  sobs, 
recurs  to  the  old  topic — that  twenty  thousand  times  told  tale — the 
dear  old  General. 

Shepherd.  Deevil  keep  the  dear  old  General !  Hasna  the  man 
been  dead  these  twunty  years  1  And  if  he  had  been  leeviii',  wouldna 
he  been  aulder  than  yoursell,  and  far  mair  infirm  !  You're  no  in 
the  least  infirm,  sir. 

North.  Ah,  James!  that's  all  you  know.  My  infirmities  are 
increasing  with  years 

Shepherd,  Wad  you  be  sae  unreasonable  as  to  expect  them  to 
decrease  with  years  1     And  her  infirmities 

North.  Hush — she  has  no  infirmities. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


176  N0CTE8   AMBRO&IANM, 

Shepherd.  Nae  infirmities  !  Then  she's  no  worth  a  brass  button. 
But  let  me  ask  you  ae  interrogatory.  Hae  ye  ever  put  the  ques- 
tion ?     Answer  me  that,  sir. 

North.  Why,  James,  1  cannot  say  that  I  ever  have 

Shepherd.  What !  and  you  expeck  that  site  wuli  put  the  question 
to  you  ?  That  would  indeed  be  puttin'  the  cart  before  the  horse.  If 
th  i  women  were  to  ask  the  men,  there  wad  be  nae  leevin'  in  this 
warld.  Yet,  let  me  tell  you,  Mr.  North,  that  it's  a  shamefu'  thing 
to  keep  playin'  in  the  way  you  hae  been  doin'  for  these  ten  years 
past  on  a  young  woman's  feelings 

Tickler.  Ila — ha — ha — James ! — A  young  woman !  Why,  she's 
sixty,  if  she's  an  hour. 

North,  You  lie. 

Shepherd.  That's  a  douss  on  the  chops,  Mr.  Tickler.  That's  made 
you  as  red  in  the  face  as  a  Bubbly-Jock,*  sir.  O  the  power  o'  ae 
wee  bit  single  monosyllabic  syllable  o'  a  word  to  awaken  a'  the 
safter  and  a'  the  fiercer  passions  !  Dinna  keep  bittin'  your  thoomb, 
Mr.  Tickler,  like  an  Itawlian.     Make  an  apology  to  Mr.  North  — 

North.  I  will  accept  of  no  apology.  The  man  who  calls  a  woman 
old  deserves  death. 

Shepherd.  Did  you  call  her  auld,  Mr.  Tickler  % 

Tickler.  To  you,  sir,  I  will  condescend  to  reply,  I  did  not.  I 
merely  said  she  was  sixty  if  she  was  an  hour. 

Shepherd.  In  the  first  place,  dinna  *'  Sir  "  me,  for  it's  not  only  ill- 
bred,  but  it's  stoopit.  In  the  second  place,  dinna  tawk  o'  "  conde- 
scendin* "  to  reply  to  me,  for  that's  language  I'll  no  thole  even  frae 
the  King  on  the  throne,  and  I'm  sure  the  King  on  the  throne  wadna 
mak  use  o't.  In  the  third  place,  to  ca'  a  woman  saxty,  and  then 
man  teen  that  ye  didna  ca'  her  auld,  is  naething  short  o'  a  sophism. 
And,  in  the  fourth  place,  you  shouldna  hae  accompanied  your  remark 
wi'  a  loud  haw — haw — haw — for  on  a  tender  topic  a  guffaw's  an  ag- 
gravation— and  marry  in'  a  widow,  let  her  age  be  what  it  wull,  is  a 
tender  topic,  depend  on't — sae  that  on  a  calm  and  dispassionate  view 
o'  a'  the  circumstances  o'  the  case,  there  can  be  nae  doot  that  you 
maun  mak  an  apology  ;  or,  if  you  do  not,  I  leave  the  room,  and  there 
is  an  end  of  the  Noctes  Ambrosianae. 

North.  An  end  of  the  Noctes  Ambrosiance ! 

Tickler.  An  end  of  the  Noctes  Ambrosianae ! 

Shepherd.  An  end  of  the  Noctes  Ambroslanaa ! 

Omnes.  An  end  of  the  Noctes  Ambrosianse ! ! 

North.  Rather  than  that  should  happen  I  will  make  a  thousand 
apologies 

Tickler,  And  I  ten  thousand 


Digitized  by 


Google 


177 

Shepherd,  That's  behavin'  like  men  and  Christians.  Embrace — 
embrace.  (North  and  Tickler  embrcLce,) 

North.  Where  were  we,  James? 

Shepherd.  I  was  abusin'  Embro'  in  simmer. 

North.  Why? 

Shepherd.  Whey  ?  a'  the  lumms  smokeless !  No  ae  jack  turnin' 
a  piece  o'  roastin*  beef  afore  a  fire  in  ony  ae  kitchen  in  a*  the  New- 
Toon  I  Streets  and  squares  a'  grass-grown,  sae  that  they  micht  be 
mawn  !  Shops  like  beehives  that  hae  de'ed  in  wunter !  Coaches 
settin*  afffor  Stirlin*,  and  Perth,  and  Glasgow,  and  no  ae  passenger 
either  inside  or  out — only  the  driver  keepin'  up  his  heart  wi*  flourish- 
in'  his  whup,  and  the  guard,  sittin'  in  perfect  solitude,  playinV  an 
eerie  spring  on  his  bugle-horn !  The  shut-up  play-house  a'  covered 
over  wi'  bills  that  seem  to  speak  o'  plays  acted  in  an  antediluvian 
world !  Here,  perhaps,  a  leevin'  creter,  like  an  emage,  staunin'  at 
the  mouth  o'  a  close,*  or  hirplin*  alang  like  the  last  relic  o'  the  plague. 
And  oh  !  but  the  stane-statue  o'  the  late  Lord  Melville,  staunin'  a'  by 
himsell  up  in  the  silent  air,  a  hunder-and-fifly  feet  high,  has  then  a 
ghastly  seeming  in  the  sky,  like  some  giant  condemned  to  perpetual 
imprisonment  on  his  pedestal,  and  mournin'  ower  the  desolation  of 
the  city  that  in  life  he  loved  so  well,  unheeded  and  unhonored  for  a 
season  in  the  great  metropolitan  heart  o*  the  country  which  he  ance 
rejoiced  to  enrich  and  beautify,  telling  and  teaching  her  how  to  hold 
up  her  head  bauldly  among  the  nations,  and  like  a  true  patriot  as  he 
was,  home  and  abroad  caring  for  the  greatest — and  the  least  of  all 
her  sons ! 

North,  He  was  the  greatest  statesman  ever  Scotland  produced, 
James ;  nor  is  she  ungrateful,  for  the  mutterings  of  Whig  malice  have 
died  away  like  so  much  croaking  in  the  pouchy  throats  of  drought- 
dried  toads,  and  the  cheerful  singing  and  whistling  of  industry  all 
over  the  beautifully  cultivated  Land,  are  the  hymns  perpetually  ex-- 
haled  to  Heaven  along  with  the  morning  dews,  in  praise  and  com- 
memoration of  the  Patriots  who  loved  the  sacred  soil  in  which  their 
bones  lie  buried. 

Shepherd,  That's  weel  said,  sir.  Let  there  be  but  a  body  o'  Truth, 
and  nae  fear  but  imagery  will  crood  around  it,  just  like  shadows  and 
sunbeams  cast  frae  the  blue  sky,  the  white  clouds,  and  the  green 
trees  round  about  the  body  o'  some  fair  maid, — that  is,  some  bonnie 
Scotch  lassie,  bathin'  in  a  stream  as  pure  &s  her  ain  thochts. 

North,  There  again,  James ! 

Shepherd,  But  to  return  to  the  near  approch  o'  wunter.  Mankind 
have  again  putten  on  worsted  stockins  and  flannen  drawers — white 

CIS  and  yellow  nankeen  troosers  hae  disappeared — dooble  soles 
gotten  a  secure  footen  ower  pumps — big  coats  wi'  fur,  and  man- 

*  Cloaei-~%  narrow  lane  or  paiaage. — ^M. 

Vol.  III.— 13 


Digitized  by 


Google 


178  NOGTES  AKBB08IANJL 

ties  wi'  miniver,  give  an  agreeable  rouchness  to  the  picturesque 
stream  o'  life  eddjin'  alang  the  channel  o'  the  streets — gloves  and 
mittens  are  sae  general  that  a  red  hairy  haun'  looks  rather  singular 
—every  third  body  ye  meet,  for  fear  o*  a  sudden  blash,  carries  an 
umbrella — a'  folks  shave  noo  wi'  het  water— coal -carts  are  emptyin' 
theirsells  into  ilka  area — caddies  at  the  corners  o' streets  and  drivers 
on  coach-boxes  are  seen  warmin'  themsells  by  blawin'  on  their  fin- 
gers,  or  whuskin*  themselves  wi'  their  open  nieves  across  the  shoo- 
thers — skates  glitter  at  the  shop-wundows  prophetic  o*  frost — Mr. 
Phin  may  tak'  in  his  rod  noo,  for  nae  mair  thocht  o'  anglin'  till 
spring, — and  wi'  spring  hersell,  as  wi'  ither  o'  our  best  and  bonniest 
friens,  it  may  be  said,  out  o'  sicht  out  o'  mind,- -you  see  heaps  o' 
bears  hung  out  for  sale — horses  are  a'  hairer  o'  the  hide — the  bit 
toon-bantam  craws  nane,  and  at  breakfast  ye  maun  tak  tent  no  to 
pree  an  egg  aforo  smell  in'  at  it — ^you  meet  hares  carry  in'  about  in  a' 
quarters — and  ggem-keepers  proceedin'  out  into  the  kintra  wi'  strings 
o'  grews — sparrows  sit  silent  and  smoky  wi'  ruffled  feathers  waitin' 
for  crumbs  on  the  ballustrawds — loud  is  the  cacklin'  in  the  fowl- 
market  o'  Christmas  geese  that  come  a  month  at  least  afore  the  day, 
just  like  thae  Annuals,  the  Forget-me-Nots,  Amulets,  Keepsakes, 
Beejoos,  Gems,  Anniversaries,  Souvenirs,  Friendship's  Offerings,  and 
Wunter- Wreaths 

Tickler.  Stop,  James — stop.  Such  an  accumulation  of  imagery 
absolutely  confounds — perplexes  — 

Shepherd.  Folk  o'  nae  fancy.     Then  for  womankind  — 

Tickler.  Oh !  James !  James  1  I  knew  you  would  not  long  keep 
off  that  theme  — 

Shepherd.  Oh !  ye  pawkie  auld  carle !  What  ither  theme  in  a' 
this  wide  weary  warld  is  worth  ae  single  thocht  or  feelin'  in  the  poet's 
heart — ^ae  single  line  frae  the  poet's  pen — ae  single — 

North.  Song  from  the  Shepherd's  lyre — of  which,  as  of  the  Teiao 
Bard's  of  old,  it  may  be  said — 

Efowa  jULouvov  viyei. 

Do,  my  dear  James,  give  us  John  Nicholson's  daughter. 

Shepherd.  Wait  a  wee.  The  womankind,  I  say,  sirs,  never  looks 
sae  bonnie  as  in  wunter,  accepp  indeed  it  be  in  spring  — 

Tickler.  Or  summer,  or  autumn,  James,  — 

Shepherd.  Hand  your  tongue.  You  auld  bachelors  ken  naething 
o'  womankind — and  hoo  should  ye,  when  they  treat  you  wi'  but  ae 
feelin',  that  o'  derision  ?  Oh,  sirs !  but  the  dear  creters  do  look  weel 
in  muffs — whether  they  hand  them,  wi'  their  invisible  hauns  clasped 
thegither  in  their  beauty  within  the  cozy  silk  linin'  close  prest  to 
their  innicent  waists,  just  aneath  the  glad  beatins  o'  their  first-love- 
touched  hearts  — 


Digitized  by 


Google 


WOMAITKIND.  179 

Tickler.  There  again,  James ! 

Shepherd.  Or  haud  them  hingin'  frae  their  extended  richt  arms, 
leevin'  a'  the  feegur  visible,  that  seems  taller  and  slimmer  as  the 
removed  muff  reveals  the  clasps  o'  the  pelisse  a'  the  way  doon  frae 
neck  till  feet ! 

North,  Look  at  Tickler — James — how  he  moves  about  in  his 
chair.     His  restlessness  — 

Shepherd.  Is  no  unnatural.  Then,  sir,  is  there,  in  a'  the  beautifu* 
and  silent  unfoldin's  o'  natur  amang  plants  and  flowers,  ony  thing 
sae  beautifu'  as  the  white,  smooth,  safl  chafls  o'  a  bit  smilin'  maiden 
o'  saxteen,  aughteen,  or  twunty,  blossomin'  out,  like  some  bonnie 
bud  o'  snaw-white  satin  frae  a  coverin'  o'  rough  leaves, — blossomin' 
out,  sirs,  frae  the  edge  o'  the  fur  tippet,  that  haply  a  lover's  happy 
haun  had  delicately  hung  ower  her  gracefu'  shoothers — oh  the  dear 
delightfii'  little  Laplander ! 

Tickler,  For  a  married  man,  James,  you  really  describe 

I^orih,  Whisht! 

Shepherd,  I  wush  you  only  heard  the  way  the  bonnie  croo-dindoos 
keep  murmurin'  their  jeists  to  ane  anither,  as  soon  as  a  nest  o*  them 
gets  rid  o'  an  auld  bachelor  on  Princes-Street 
Tickler,  Gets  rid  o*  an  auld  bachelor ! 

Shepherd,  Booin'  and  scrapin'  to  them  after  the  formal  and  stately 
/ashion  o'  the  old  school  o'  politeness,  and  thinking  himsell  the  very 
pink  o'  coortesy,  wi*  a  gold-headed  cane  aiblins,  nae  less,  in  his 
haun',  and  buckles  on's  shoon — for  buckles  are  no  quite  out  yet 
a'thegither — a  frill  like  a  fan  at  the  shirt  neck  o'  him — and,  wad  the 
world  beleeve't,  knee  breeks ! — then  they  titter — and  then  they 
lauch — and  then,  as  musical  as  if  they  were  singin'  in  pairts,  the 
bonnie,  bloomin',  innicent  wicked  creeters  break  out  into— I  niaunna 
say,  o'  sic  rosy  lips,  and  sic  snawy  breasts,  a  guffaw— but  a  guffay, 

sirs,  a  guflSiy — for  that's  the  feminine  o'  guffaw 

North.  Tickler,  we  really  must  not  allow  ourselves  to  be  insulted 

In  this  style  any  longer 

Shepherd,  And  then  away  they  trip,  sirs,  flingin'  an  antelope's  or 
gazelle's  ee  ower  their  shouther,  diverted  beyond  measure  to  see 
tiieir  antique  beau  continuing  at  a  distance  to  cut  capers  in  his 
pride — till  a'  at  ance  they  see  a  comet  in  the  sky — a  young  offisher 
o'  dragoons,  wi'  his  helmet  a'  in  a  low  wi'  a  flicker  o'  red  feathers — 
and  as  he  "  turns  and  winds  his  fiery  Pegasus,"  they  are  a'  mute  as 
death — ^yet  every  face  at  the  same  time  eloquent  wi'  mantling 
smiles,  and  wi'  blushes  that  break  through  and  around  the  blue 
heavens  of  their  een,  like  crimson  clouds  to  sudden  sunlight  burning 
beautiful  for  a  moment,  and  then  melting  away  like  a  thocht  or  a 
dream! 


Digitized  by 


Google 


180  NOCTES   AHBROeiAN^ 

North,  Why,  my  dear  James,  it  does  one's  heart  good  even  to  be 
ridiculed  in  the  language  of  Poetry.     Does  it  not,  Tickler  1 

Tickler,  James,  your  health,  my  dear  fellow. 

Sliepkerd,  I  never  ridicule  ony  body,  sirs,  that's  no  fit  to  bear  it 
But  there's  some  sense  and  some  satisfaction  in  makin'  a  fule  o' 
them,  that,  when  the  fiend's  in  them,  can  make  fules  o'  a  body,  like 
North  and  Tickler. 

North,  You  would  cackle,  my  dear  James,  were  I  to  tell  you  how 
the  laugh  went  against  me,  t'other  day  on  the  Calton  Hill. 

Shepherd,  The  laugh  went  against  you,  sir  1  That  forebodes  some 
evil  to  the  State  o'  Denmark. 

North,  I  had  chanced  to  take  a  stroll,  James,  round  the  Calton 
Hill,  and  feeling  my  toe  rather  twitchy,  I  sat  down  on  a  bench  im- 
mediately under  Nelson's  Monument,  and  having  that  clever  paper 
the  Observer  of  the  day  in  my  pocket,  I  began  to  glance  over  its 
columns,  when  my  attention  was  suddenly  attracted  to  a  confused 
noise  of  footsteps,  whisperings,  titterings,  and  absolutely  guffaws, 
James,  circling  round  the  base  of  that  ingenious  model  of  a  some- 
what clumsy  churn.  Nelson's  Monument.  Looking  through  my 
specs — lo  !  a  multitude  of  all  sexes — more  especially  the  female, 
kept  congregating  round  me,  some  with  a  stare,  others  with  a  sim- 
per, some  with  a  full  open-mouthed  laugh,  and  others  with  a  half- 
shut-eye  leer,  which  latter  mode  of  expressing  her  feelings,  is,  in  a 
woman,  to  me  peculiarly  loathsome, — while  ever  and  anon  I  heard 
one  voice  saying,  "  He  is  really  a  decent  man ;"  another,  "  He  has 
been  a  fine  fellow  in  his  day,  I  warrant;"  a  third,  "Come  awa', 
Meg,  he's  ower  auld  for  my  money,"  and  a  fourth,  "  He  has  cruel 
gray  green  een,  and  looks  like  a  man  that  would  murder  his  wife." 

Shepherd,  That  was  gutting  fish  afore  you  catch  them.  But  what 
was  the  meauin'  o*  a'  this,  sir  1 

North,  Why,  James,  some  infernal  ninny,  it  seems,  had  adver- 
tised in  the  Edinburgh  newspapers  for  a  wife  with  a  hundred  a-year, 
and  informed  the  female  public  that  he  would  be  seen  sitting  for 
inspection 

Tickler,  In  the  character  of  opening  article  in  the  Edinburgh 
Review 

North,  From  the  hours  of  one  and  two  in  the  afternoon,  on  the 
identical  bench,  James,  on  which,  under  the  influence  of  a  malignant 
star,  I  had  brought  myself  to  anchor. 

Shepherd,  Haw  !  haw  !  haw !  That  beats  cock-fechtin'.  So  then 
Christopher  North  sat  publicly  on  a  bench  commandin'  a  view  o' 
the  haill  city  o'  Embro,  as  an  adverteeser  for  a  wife  wi'  a  moderate 
income — and  you  canna  ca  a'  hunder  a-year  immoderate,  though  it's 
comfortable — and  was  unconsciously  undergoni'  an  inspection  as 
sorutineezin'  to  the  ee  o'  fancy  and  imagination  as  a  recruit  by  the 


Digitized  by 


Google 


WIFE-ADVEBTISINQ.  181 

surgeon  afore  he's  alloo'd  to  join  the  regiment.  Haw — haw — 
haw ! 

North,  I  knew  nothing  at  the  time,  James,  of  the  infernal  ninny 
and  his  advertisement 

Shepherd,  Sae  you  continued  sittin'  and  glowerin'  at  the  crood 
through  your  specs  ? 

North,  I  did,  James.  What  else  could  I  do  ?  The  semicircle 
a  sharpening  its  mooned  horns,"  closed  in  upon  me,  hemming  and 
hemming  me  quite  up  to  the  precipice  in  my  rear — the  front  rank 
of  the  allied  powers  being  composed,  as  you  may  suppose,  of 
women  — 

Shepherd.  And  a  pretty  pack  they  wad  be — fish-wives,  female 
cawdies,  blue-stockin*s,  toon's  offisher's  widows,  washerwomen,  she- 
waiters,  girrzies,  auld  maids  wi*  bairds,  and  young  limmers  wi' 
green  parasols  and  five  floonces  to  their  forenoon  gowns  — 

North,  I  so  lost  my  head,  James,  and  all  power  of  discrimination, 
that  the  whole  assemblage  seemed  to  me  like  a  great  daub  of  a  pic- 
ture looked  at  by  a  connoisseur  with  a  sick  stomach,  and  suddenly 
about  to  faint  in  an  exhibition. 

Shepherd,  You  hae  reason  to  be  thankfu'  that  they  didna  tear  you 
into  pieces. 

North,  At  last  up  I  got,  and  attempted  to  make  a  speech,  but  I 
felt  as  if  I  had  no  tongue. 

Shepherd,  That  was  a  judgment  on  you,  sir,  for  bein'  sae  fond  o' 
taukin'  — 

North,  Instinctively  brandishing  my  crutch,  I  attacked  the  centre 
of  the  circle,  which  immediately  gave  way,  falling  into  two  seg- 
ments— the  one  sliding  with  great  loss  down  the  slope,  and  stopt 
only  by  the  iron  paling  in  front  of  the  New  Jail — the  other  wheel- 
ing tumultuously  in  a  sauve  qui  pent  movement  up  towards  the 
Observatory — the  plateau  in  front  being  thus  left  open  to  my  re- 
treat, or  rather  advance. 

Shepherd,  Oh,  sir !  but  you  should  hae  been  a  sodger  !  Welling- 
ton or  Napoleon  wad  hae  been  nae thing  to  you — ^^ou  wad  soon  hae 
been  a  field-marshal — a  generalissimo. 

North.  The  left  wing  had  rallied  in  the  hollow — and,  having 
formed  themselves  into  a  solid  square,  came  up  the  hill  at  the  pas 
de  charge,  with  a  cloud  of  skirmishers  thrown  out  in  front — and, 
unless  my  eye  deceived  me,  which  is  not  improbable,  supported  and 
covered  on  each  flank  by  cavalry. 

Shepherd,  That  was  fearsome. 

North,  I  was  now  placed  between  two  fires,  in  imminent  danger 
of  being  surrounded  and  taken  prisoner,  when,  with  one  of  those 
sudden  coup  d^ ceils,  which,  more  than  anything  else,  distinguish  the 
military  genius  from  the  mere  martinet,  I  spied  an  opening  to  my 


Digitized  by 


Google 


182  KOCTEB  AXBBOBIAN.fi. 

right,  through,  or  rather  over  the  crags,  aod  using  the  butt-end  of 
my  crutch,  I  overthrew  in  an  instant  the  few  companies,  vainly 
endeavoring  to  form  into  echellon  in  that  part  of  the  position,  and, 
with  little  or  no  loss,  effected  a  bold  and  skilful  retrograde  move- 
ment down  the  steepest  part  of  the  hill,  over  whose  rugged  declivities, 
it  is  recorded,  that  Darnley,  centuries  before,  had  won  the  heart  of 
Queen  Mary,  by  galloping  his  war-horse,  in  full  armor,  on  the 
evening  after  a  tournament  at  Holy  rood.  Not  a  regiment  had  the 
courage  to  follow  me ;  and,  on  reaching  the  head  of  Leith  Walk,  I 
halted  on  the  very  spot  where  my  excellent  friend  the  then  Lord 
Provost  presented  the  keys  of  the  city  to  his  most  gracious  majesty, 
on  his  entrance  into  the  metropolis  of  the  most  ancient  of  his  domi- 
nions, and  gave  three  times  three  in  token  of  triumph  and  derision, 
which  were  faintly  and  feebly  returned  from  the  pillars  of  the  Par- 
thenon ;  but  I  know  not  till  this  hour,  whether  by  the  discomfited 
host,  or  only  by  the  echoes. 

Shepherd.  Fortunate  Senex  !     Wonderfu'  auld  man  ! 

North,  There  was  I,  James,  within  fifty  yards  of  Ambrose's ;  so, 
like  a  fine,  old,  bold  buck  of  a  red  deer,  who,  after  slaughtering  or 
scattering  with  hoof  and  horn  the  pack  that  had  dared  to  obstruct 
his  noonday  flights,  from  his  high  haunts  at  the  head  of  green  Glen- 
Aven  to  his  low  lair  in  the  heart  of  the  black  forest  of  Abernethy, 
at  last  unpursued  takes  to  soil,  that  is,  buries  himself,  back  and  belly, 
in  a  limpid  pool  of  the  running  waters; — so  did  I,  Christopher 
North,  after  giving  that  total  overthrow,  take  to  soil  in  the  Sanctum 
8anctorum  of  Picardy  ;  and,  issuing  from  the  cold-bath,  vigorous — 
to  use  another  image — as  a  great,  old  cod  in  the  deep  sea, — as  round 
in  the  shoulders,  and  as  red  about  the  gills  too,— astonished  the 
household  by  the  airy  and  majestic  movement  with  which,  like  an 
eagle,  I  floated  into  the  Festal  Hall, — sung  a  solo,  like  a  spring 
nightingale, — then  danced  a  lavolta,  to  the  terror  of  the  chandelier, 
like  a  chamois  making  love  on  Mont  Blanc, — then  subsiding  out  of 
Dance,  which  is  the  Poetry  of  Motion,  into  Attitude,  which  is  the 
Poetry  of  Rest,  finally  sunk  away  into  voluptuous  diflusion  of  lith 
and  limb  on  that  celestial  sofa,  like  an  impersonation  of  Alexander 
the  Great,  Mark  Antony,  and  Sardanapalus. 

Shepherd.  Did  naebody  in  the  crood  ken  Christopher  North  ? 

North.  Their  senses,  James,  were  deluded  by  their  imagination. 
They  had  set  me  down  as  the  Edinburgh  Advertiser — and  the 
Edinburgh  Advertiser  I  appeared  to  be, — instead  of  the  Editor  of 
Blackwood's  Magazine.  The  senses  are  the  slaves  of  the  soul, 
James.  "  How  easily 's  a  bush  supposed  a  bear  !"  Yet  a  few  voices 
did  exclaim,  "  Christopher  North !  Christopher  North !"  and  that 
magical  name  did  not  for  a  moment  calm  the  tumult.  But  forth- 
with arose  the  cry  of  "Impostor!  Impostor!" — "Kit  has  no  need 


Digitized  by 


Google 


mrOBIOGBAPHICBS.  183 

to  advertise  for  a  wife!" — ^**HaDg  his  impudence,  for  dauring  to 
sham  Christopher !" — "  He's  no  far  aneuch  North  for  that  I"-^and  in 
vain,  dnritiff  one  pause  of  my  combat  and  career,  did  I  make  an 
appeal  to  the  Public  in  favor  of  my  personal  identity.  It  would 
not  do,  James.  I  appeared  to  be  a  Perkin  Warbeck  detected ;  and 
had  nearly  paid  the  penalty  of  death,  or,  in  other  words,  forfeited 
my  existence,  for  merely  personating  myself!  Mr.  Ambrose,  with 
his  usual  ingenuity,  immediately  on  hearing  the  recital  of  our 
adventure,  and  just  as  he  was  pouring  us  out  a  caulker  consuroma- 
tive  of  our  restoration  to  our  wonted  placidity  and  repose,  sphinx- 
like, solved  the  riddle,  and  devoutly  congratulated  us  on  our  escape 
from  a  Public  justly  infuriated  by  the  idea,  that  a  counterfeit  of  Us 
had  thrown  himself  for  a  wife  upon  their  curiosity;  sagaciously 
observing,  at  the  same  time,  that  it  would  be  a  salve  to  the  sore  of 
her  signal  defeat  on  the  Calton  to  know,  that,  after  all,  it  was  the 
veritable  Christopher  North  who  had  scattered  her  like  sawdust^ 
without  distinction  of  age  or  sex. 

Shepherd.  Mr.  Tickler,  do  you  recoUeck  what  Mr.  North  said  to 
you,  a  wee  while  sin'-syne,  that  made  ye  sae  angry  ?  I  think  you 
might  pay  him  back  noo  in  his  ain  coin.  Few  owtobeograffers  are 
verawcious  historians. 

Tickler.  Without  meaning  offence  to  any  individual  in  particular, 
they  all lie. 

North.  They  do,  like  troopers.  And  did  they  not,  they  would 
not  be  fit  to  live. 

Shepherd,  Nor  dee. 

Tickler,  The  man  does  not  live  who  dares  to  outrage  humanity  by 
a  full,  true,  and  particular  account,  of  every  thing  he  hfts  said,  done, 
and  thought^  during  even  the  least  guilty  year  of  nis  youth,  manhood, 
or  old  age. 

Shepherd,  Especially  auld  age.  Oh  I  never — ^never — never — ^but 
at  the  great  day  o'  judgment,  will  there  be  a  revelation  o'  an  auld 
sinner's  heart  1  I  appeal  to  you,  Mr.  North,  for  the  awfu'  truth  o' 
that  apothegm.     Are  nae  ye  an  auld  sinner,  sir  ? 

North,  I  do  not  know,  my  dear  James,  that  to  you  or  any  other 
man  I  am  bound  to  confess  that ;  sufficient  surely,  if  I  do  not  deny 
it,  I  am  not  a  Roman  Catholic  layman ;  nor  are  you,  James,  so  far 
as  I  understand,  a  Roman  Catholic  priest ;  nor  is  the  Octagon  a  Ro- 
man Catholic  confessional ;  nor  ^re  the  Noctes  Ambrosianse  Roman 
Catholic  nights  of  penance  and  mortification  for  our  manifold  sins  and 
iniquities.  Yet,  my  dear  James,  if^  as  I  believe  you  do,  you  mean 
nothing  personid  in  your  question, — and  you  know  I  hate  all  person- 
ality either  in  my  own  case,  or  that  of  others, — but  interrogate  me 
as  a  representative  of  human  nature, — ^then  do  I  most — cheerfully,  I 


Digitized  by 


Google 


184  NOOTES   AMBSOSIAl^^. 

was  going  to  say — ^but  1  correct  myself — most  sorrowfully  confess, 
that  1  am  indeed — an  old  sinner. 

Tickler,  So  am  I. 

Shepherd,  And  sae  I  howp  to  be — meaning  thereby,  merely  that 
I  may  live  till  I'm  as  auld  as  you,  Mr.  Tickler,  sir,  or  you,  sir,  Mr. 
North.  For  the  only  twa  perfeck  seenonims  in  the  English  language 
are,  man  and  sinner. 

North,  In  utter  prostration,  and  sacred  privacy  of  soul,  I  almost 
think  now,  and  have  often  felt  heretofore,  man  may  make  a  confes- 
sional of  the  breast  of  his  brother  man.  Once  I  had  such  a  friend — 
and  to  me  he  was  a  priest.  He  has  been  so  long  dead  that  it  seems 
to  me  now,  that  I  have  almost  forgotten  him — and  that  I  remember 
only  that  he  once  lived,  and  that  I  once  loved  him  with  all  my  affec- 
tions. One  such  friend  alone  can  ever,  from  the  very  nature  of 
things,  belong  to  any  one  human  being,  however  endowed  by  nature 
and  beloved  of  heaven.  He  is  felt  to  stand  between  us  and  our  up- 
braiding conscience.  In  his  life  lies  the  strength — the  power — the 
virtue  of  ours — in  his  death  the  better  half  of  our  whole  being  seems 
to  expire.  Such  communion  of  spirit,  perhaps,  can  only  be  in  exist- 
ences rising  towards  their  meridian  ;  as  the  hills  of  life  cast  longer 
shadows  in  the  western  hours,  we  grow — I  should  not  say  more  sus- 
picious, for  that  may  be  too  strong  a  word — but  more  silent,  more 
self-wrapt,  more  circumspect — less  sympathetic  even  with  kindred 
and  congenial  natures,  who  will  sometimes,  in  our  almost  sullen  moods 
or  theirs,  seem  as  if  they  were  kindred  and  congenial  no  more — less 
devoted  to  spirituals,  that  is,  to  ideas,  so  tender,  true,  beautiful,  and 
sublime,  that  they  seem  to  be  inhabitants  of  heaven  though  born  of 
earth,  and  to  float  between  the  two  regions  angelical  and  divine — 
yet  felt  to  be  mortal,  human  still — the  ideas  of  passions  and  desires, 
and  affections,  and  "  impulses  that  come  to  us  in  solitude,"  to  whom 
we  breathe  out  our  souls  in  silence  or  almost  in  silent  speech,  in  ut- 
terly mute  adoration,  or  in  broken  hymns  of  feeling,  believing  that 
the  holy  enthusiasm  will  go  with  us  through  life  to  the  grave,  or 
ratlier  knowing  not,  or  feeling  not,  that  the  grave  is  any  thing  more 
for  us  than  a  mere  word  with  a  somewhat  mournful  sound,  and  that 
life  is  changeless,  cloudless,  unfading  as  the  heaven  of  heavens,  that 
lies  to  the  uplifted  fancy  in  blue  immortal  calm,  round  the  throne  of 
the  eternal  Jehovah. 

Shepherd,  Wi'  little  trouble,  sir,  that  micht  be  turned  into  blank 
verse,  and  then,  without  meanin'  to  flatter  you,  'twould  be  a  noble 
poem. 

North,  Now,  James,  "  to  descend  from  these  imaginative  heights,'' 
what  man,  who  has  ever  felt  thus,  would  publish  his  inner  spirit  in 
a  printed  confession,  on  wire-wove,  hot-pressed  paper,  in  three  vol- 
umes crown  octavo,  one  gumea  and  a  half  in  boards  f 


Digitized  by 


Google 


JBBEMY  TAYLOB.  186 

Shepherd,  And  wait  anxiously  for  the  beginning  o'  every  month, 
to  see  himself  reviewed  in  a  pack  o'  paltry  periodicals ! 

North,  Much  of  himself  is  gone — gone  for  ever — ^not  only  from 
his  present  being,  but  even  from  his  memory,  even  like  a  thousand 
long  summer  days,  each  so  intensely  beautiful  that  it  seemed  immor- 
tal, yet  all  the  splendid  series  now  closed  for  ever  and  aye.  Much 
remains — with  strange  transformation — like  clear  running  waters 
chained  by  dim  fixed  frost,  or  like  soft,  pure,  almost  aerial  snow- 
flakes,  heaped  up  into  hard,  polluted,  smoky,  sooty  wreaths  by  the 
roadside ;  much  is  reversed  into  its  opposite  in  nature,  joy  into 
grief,  mirth  into  melancholy,  hope  into  despair ;  and  oh !  still  more 
mournful,  more  miserable  far,  virtue  into  vice,  honor  into  shame, 
innocence  into  guilt ;  while  Sin  is  felt  to  have  leavened  the  whole 
mass  of  our  being,  and  Religion  herself,  once  a  radiant  angel,  now 
moody  as  Superstition,  now  fantastic  as  Philosophy,  or  haply  but 
the  hem  of  her  garment  seen  like  a  disappearing  cloud,  as  an  angel 
still,  she  evanishes  from  our  short-sighted  eyes  in  heaven  ! 

Shepherd,  I  hae  often  wusbed,  my  dear  sir,  that  you  would  publish 
a  few  volumes  o'  Sermons.  I  dinna  fear  to  say't,  'cause  I  believe't 
true,  that  in  that  department  Christopher  North  would  be  noways 
inferior  to  Jeremy  Taylor. 

North.  My  dear  James,  Friendship  is  like  Love — so  far  from 
being  blind,  each — I  will  not  say  what  is  not — but  magnifies  what 
is — and  that,  too,  to  such  a  degree,  that  Truth  becomes  Falsehood. 
Jeremy  Taylor  had  a  divine  spirit.  That  divine  spirit  pervades,  per- 
meates all  he  ever  embodied  in  words.  Each  sermon  of  his  is  like 
a  star — a  star  that  b  not  only  framed  of  light,  and  self-burning  un- 
consumed  in  its  own  celestial  fires,  but  hung  in  light  as  in  an  atmos- 
phere which  it  does  not  itself  create,  and  thus  blended  and  bound  in 
links  of  light  to  all  the  rest  of  the  radiant  Host  of  Heaven.  Thus  it 
is  that  all  his  sermons  are  as  a  galaxy.     Bead  one  of  them,  and  it  is 

**  Fair  as  a  star,  when  only  one 
Ib  BhiniDg  in  the  aky " 

Read  many,  and  you  think  of  some  beautiful  and  sublime  night — ^a 
bright  sky,  with  the  full  moon, 

**  When  round  her  throne  the  radiant  planets  roll. 
And  stars  nnntunber'd  gild  the  glowing  Pole." 

As  the  moon  is  among  the  stars — so  seems  the  Holy  Spirit  to  hang 
efiulgent  among  the  sacred  sparkles  of  thought  issuing  out  from  the 
"  blue  serene,*'  the  untroubled  firmament  of  his  Christian  frame  of 
being ! 

Shepherd,  I  believe  I  was  wrangin'  vou  in  the  comparison.  He 
served  in  the  sanctuary — ^the  inner  snrine.     Others  can  only  bow 


Digitized  by 


Google 


186  NOOrBS  AMBBOSIANJE. 

down  and  adore  at  the  threshold,  and  aneath  the  vestibule  o^  the 
temple. 

North,  In  all  those  works  of  uninspired  men,  my  dear  James, 
whether  in  prose  or  verse,  to  which  we  may  justifiably  give  the 
name  of  divine,  such  as  Taylor's  and  Milton's,  is  there  not  a  spirit 
invisible  to  the  eyes,  inaudible  to  the  ears,  of  the  mere  understand- 
ing?  And  if  so,  who  that  is  wise  in  humanity,  can  think  that  the 
cultivation  of  the  mere  understanding  may  ever  give  an  insight,  or 
an  inhearing,  into  such  truths  of  our  being  as  such  men  as  Taylor 
and  Milton  have  communicated  to  the  race  in  a  kind  of  dimmer 
revelation ! 

Shepherd,  Nae  wise  man  'ill  belleve't.  Edicate  a'  men  and 
women,  too,  say  I,  as  much  as  possible — but  dinna  expeck  impossi- 
ble results.  If  edication  be  confined  to  the  mere  understandin*,  a  man 
may  gang  out  o'  schools,  and  institutions,  and  colleges,  after  seven 
years'  study,  far  waur  than  a  coof  For  a  coof  generally  kens,  or  at 
least  suspecks,  that  he  is  a  coof ;  but  an  "  Intellectual-all-in-all,"  as 
Wordsworth  weel  ca's  him,  thinks  him  sell  the  verra  perfection  o' 
God's  creters.  No  ae  single  thing  will  he  believe  that  he  doesna 
understaun — sae  that  ye  may  ken  how  narrow  is  his  creed — puir 
blinded  moudiwarp,  that  has  deluded  itsell  into  a  notion  that  it's  a 
lynx !  Noo,  I  ca'  this  impiety.     What  say  ye,  sir  % 

North.  The  highest  philosophy,  whether  natural  or  mental  phi- 
losophy, my  dearest  James,  leads  to  Christianity — indeed,  the  highest 
mental  philosophy  is  Christianity.  But  all  beneath  the  highest  is 
either  dangerous  or  unsatisfactory,  while  the  low  and  the  lowest  is 
nothing  better  than  blind,  base  skepticism,  alternating  between  super- 
stition and  atheism.  An  ill-instructed,  or  confusedly  and  imperfectly- 
informed  person,  who  prides  himself  upon,  and  trusts  to  his  under- 
standing   

Shepherd,  Is  at  a'  times  walkin'  on  the  edge  o'  the  bottomless  pit. 

North,  At  least  wandering  in  the  ways  that  lead  to  it. 

Shepherd,  And  that  conies  to  the  same  thing,  sir ;  for  only  gie 
him  length  o'  time  and  tether,  and  in  he'll  play  plump  some  day  at 
last,  just  like  a  sand-blind  man  botaneezin'  in  a  wood,  and  a'  at  anoe 
tumblin',  through  briers  and  brambles,  into  the  mouth  o'  an  auld  un- 
suspected coal-pit — whereas,  a  man  that  was  quite  blin'  a'thegither 
would  either  hae  had  a  guide  wi'  him,  or,  what  is  the  still  safer  scheme 
for  ane  in  his  condition,  wouldna  hae  ventured  into  the  wood  at  a',  but 
sat  contented  at  his  ain  ingle  amang  his  wife  and  bairns,  and  listened 
wi'  decent  humility  to  an  orthodox  sermon. 

North,  Without  religion,  the  poor  are  poor  indeed — with  it,  they 
may  be  the  only  rich. 

Shepherd,  O,  sir !  but  you  sometimes  say  things  wi'  a  sweet  sen- 
tentiousness  that  sinks  into  the  heart.     I  hauld  it^  sir,  to  be  utterly 


Digitized  by 


Google 


tongb'  aoookpakiment.  187 

impossible  that  those  men,  who,  as  friends  of  the  education  of  the 
people,  avow  that  their  character  may  be  raised  to  the  utmost  pitch 
of  which  it  is  capable,  by  the  distribution  of  ae  Library  o'  IFseful, 
and  anither  o'  Enterteenan  Knowledge,*  can  have  any  saving  Itnow- 
ledge  either  o'  their  ain  souls,  or  the  souls  o'  ither  folk,  or  the  trials 
and  temptations  to  which  men  are  exposed,  who  work  from  sunrise  to 
sunset,  with  their  hands,  and  legs,  and  backs,  for  their  daily  bread,  or 
o'  the  conditions  on  which  alone  they  can  howp  to  hauld  in  health 
and  longevity  their  moral  and  their  religious  being.  .What's  the 
matter  w  '  you,  Mr.  Tickler,  that  you  dinna  speak  ony  the  nicht  ? 

Tickler,  In  the  company  of  the  truly  wise  I  love  to  listen.  Be- 
sides, to  tell  you  the  truth,  James,  that  fire  has  made  me  rather 
sleepy. 

Shepherd,  You're  no  the  least  sleepy,  sir.  Your  een  are  like 
gimlets — augers. 

Tickler.  Why,  my  dear  Shepherd,  'tis  half  an  hour  ago  since  you 
promised  us  a  song. 

North.  Come,  James,  John  Nicholson's  daughter. 

Tickler.  And  I  will  accompany  you  on  the  poker  and  tongs. 

Shepherd,  I  hae  nae  objections — for  you've  not  only  a  sowl  for 
music,  sir,  but  a  genius,  too,  and  the  twa  dinna  always  gang  the- 
gither — mony  a  man  haein'  as  fine  an  ear  for  tunes,  as  the  starnies 
on  a  dewy  nicht  that  listen  to  the  grass  growin'  roun'  the  vernal 
primroses,  and  yet  no  able  to  play  on  ony  instrument — on  even  the 
flute — let  abee  the  poker  and  the  tangs. 

North.  A  true  and  fine  distinction. 

Shepherd.  Whereas,  sir,  a  genius  for  music  can  bring  music  out 
o'  amaist  ony  material  substance — be  it  horn,  timmer,  or  aim,  sic 
are  the  hidden  qualities  o'  natur  that  lie  asleep,  even  as  if  they  were 
dead  or  were  not,  till  the  equally  mysterious  power  that  God  has 
given  to  man,  wiles  or  rugs  them  out  to  the  notice  o'  the  senses — in 
this  case*the  ear — and  then,  to  be  sure,  melody  or  harnaony  chimes 
or  tinkles  accordant  and  congenial  to  ony  strain  o'  feelin*  or  o'  fancy 
that  the  poet  sings  to  the  musician,  and  the  musician  plays  back 
again,  or  rather  at  ane  and  the  same  time  to  the  poet — the  twa 
thegither  sae  speeritualeezin'  the  verra  air  o'  the  room,  that  the  fire 
seems  to  burn  as  purely  as  the  star  that  may  be  blinkin'  in  through 
the  half-uncurtained  window,  frae  its  ain  hame  in  heaven ! 

Tickler.  Come,  then,  James,  let  me  accompany  you  on  my  favor- 
ite instrument ;  a  finer-toned  tongs  I  never  took  in  hand  than  this  of 
the  octagon.  The  poker  is  a  little  out  of  tune,  I  fear — **  but  that 
not  much."  We  have  "counted  the  chimes  at  midnight"  before 
now,  my  dear  Shepherd  — 

Shepherd,  I  wish  I  mayna  burst  out  a-lauchin'  in  the  middle  o'  my 

*  PablioatioBB  emuiatinff  fkom  the  Sooiety  for  the  DilfasioB  of  Uwfal  Knowledge.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


188  KOOTES   AMBBOSIAK^. 

sang,  for  siccan  anither  feegur  I  never  saw,  even  in  a  dream,  sir,  as  you, 
when  you  first  rax  yoursell  up  your  hail  hecht  on  the  rug,  and 
then  loot  doon  awee  ower  the  tangs,  swingin*  to  and  fro,  wi'  an  ex- 
pression o'  face  as  serious  as  if  it  depended  a'thegither  at  that  mo- 
ment on  you,  whether  or  no  the  earth  was  to  continue  to  circumvolye 
on  her  ain  axis. 

North,  Tickler  puts  all  his  soul,  James,  into  whatever  he  happens 
to  be  doing  at  the  time.  Why,  he  brushes  his  hat,  before  turning 
out  at  two  for  a  constitutional  walk,  with  as  much  seeming,  nay, 
real  earnestness,  as  Barry  Cornwall  polishes  a  dramatic  scene,  before 
making  an  appeal  to  posterity. 

Shepherd.  And  baith  o'  them  rub  aff  the  nap.  Commend  me  to  a 
rouch  hat  and  a  rouch  poem — a  smooth  hat's  shabby-genteel,  and  a 
smooth  poem's  no  muckle  better.  I  like  the  woo  on  the  ane  to  show 
shadows  to  the  breeze — and  the  lines  o'  the  ither  to  wanton  like 
waves  on  the  sea,  that,  even  at  the  verra  cawmest,  breaks  out  every 
noo  and  then  into  little  foam-furrows,  characteristic  o'  the  essential 
and  the  eternal  difference  atween  the  waters  o'  an  inland  loch,  and 
them  o'  the  earth-girdlin  ocean. 

North,  Come,  my  dear  James,  don't  keep  Tickler  any  longer  in 
untinkling  attitude. 

Shepherd  (sinffs  to  Tickler's  tongs  and  poker  accompaniment.) 

Song,— **  John  NichoUon*$  Daughter.*** 

The  daisy  is  fiiir,  the  day  lily  rare, 

The  bud  o'  the  rose  as  sweet  as  if  s  boDnie  — 
Bat  there  ne'er  was  a  flower,  in  garden  or  bower, 
like  anld  Joe  Nicholson's  bonnie  Nannie. 
O  my  Nannie, 
My  dear  little  Nannie, 
My  sweet  little  niddlety-noddlefy  Nanme^ 
There  ne'er  was  a  flower. 
In  garden  or  bower, 
Like  anld  Joe  Nicholson's  Nannia 

Ae  day  she  came  out  wi'  a  rosy  blush. 
To  milk  her  twa  kye,  sae  couthie  an'  oannio  -* 

I  cower  d  me  down  at  the  back  o*  the  bosh, 
'To  watdi  the  air  o*  my  bonnie  Nannie. 
O  my  Nannie,  Ac  Ac 

Her  looks  so  gay,  o'er  Nature  away, 
Frae  bonnie  mue  een  sae  mild  and  mellow  — 

Saw  naething  sae  sweet,  in  Nature's  array. 
Though  dad  in  the  mominff's  ffoudeo  yellow. 
O  my  Nannie,  £0.  ia 

«  By  Hojj.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


THB  HAQOIS'  FLOOD.  189 

My  heart  lay  beatinji^  the  flowery  gpreeD, 

In  quakk^,  quaveriDg  agitation  — 
And  the  tears  came  trickling  down  frae  my  een, 

Wi*  perfect  love,  an'  wi'  admiration. 
O  my  Nannie,  <bc.  <&o. 

There's  mony  a  joy  in  this  world  below, 

And  sweet  the  hopes  that  to  sing  were  uncannie  — 
Bat  of  all  the  pleasures  I  ever  can  know, 

There's  none  like  the  love  o'  my  dearest  Nannie, 
O  my  Nannie, 
My  dear  little  Nannie, 
My  sweet  little  niddlety-noddlefy  Nannie  — 
There  n^r  was  a  flower. 
In  garden  or  bower, 
Like  auld  Joe  Nicholson's  Nannie. 

North,  Bravo  !  You  have  sent  that  song  to  our  friend  Pringle's 
Friendship's  Offering — haven't  you,  James  % 

Shepherd.  I  hae — and  anither  as  gude,  or  better. 

{Enter  Mr.  Ambrose  with  a  hot  roasted  Round  of  Beef—Kisa 
Pbpin  with  a  couple  of  boiled  Ducks — Sir  David  Gam 
with  a  trencher  of  Tripe,  a  la  Meg  Dods — and  Tapitourik 
with  a  Haggis.  Pickled  Salmon,  Welch  Rabbits,  dc.  dtc. 
— and,  as  usual.  Oysters,  raw,  stewed,  scolloped,  roasted, 
and  pickled,  of  course — Gizzards,  Fimeans^  Red  Herrings,) 

Shepherd,  You've  really  served  up  a  bonny  wee  neat  bit  sooper 
for  three,  Mr.  Awmrose.  I  hate,  for  my  ain  pairt,  to  see  a  table 
overloaded.     It's  sae  vulgar.     I'll  carve  the  haggis. 

North,  I  beseech  you,  James,  for  the  love  of  all  that's  dear  to 
you,  here  and  hereafter,  to  hold  your  hand.     Stop— stop— stop ! — 

(  The  Shepherd  sticks  the  Haggis,  and  the  Table  is  instantly 
overflowed,) 
Shepherd.  Heavens  and  earth !     Is  the  Haggis  mad  ?    Tooels — 
Awmrose — tooels !     Safe  us — we'll  a'  be  drooned ! 

(Picardy  and  his  tail  rush  out  for  toweU,) 
North,  Rash  man!  what  ruin  have  you  wrought!     See  how  it 
has  overflown  the  deck  from  stem  to  stem — we  shall  all  be  lost. 

Shepherd,  Sweepin'  every  thing  afore  it!  Whare's  the  puir  biled 
dyucks?  Only  the  croon-head  o'  the  roun'  visible!  Tooels — 
tooels — tooels !     Send  roun'  the  fire-drum  through  the  city. 

{Re-enter  Picardy  and  "  the  resf^  with  napery,) 
Ambrose.  Mr.  North,  I  look  to  you  for  orders  in  the  midst  of  this 

alarming  calamity.     Shall  I  order  in  more  strength  1 

Shepherd.  See — see — sir !  it's  creepin'  alang  the  carpet !     We're 

like  men  lefl  on  a  sand-bank,  when  the  tide's  comin'  in  rampaugin'. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


190  NOOTES  AMBBOBIAN^. 

Oh !  tnat  I  had  insured  my  life !     Oh !  that  I  had  learned  to  soom ! 
What  wull  become  o'  my  widow  and  my  fatherless  children ! 

North.  Silence !     Let  us  die  like  men. 

Shepherd,  O,  Lord !  it's  ower  our  insteps  already !  Open  a'  the 
doors  and  wundows — and  let  it  find  its  ain  level.  I'll  up  on  a  chair 
in  the  meantime. 

{^The  Shepherd  mounts  the  hack  of  the  chair ^  and  draws 
Mr.  North  up  after  him,) 

Sit  on  my  shoothers,  my  dear— dear— -dearest  sir.  I  insist  on't. 
Mr.  Tickler,  Mr.  Awmrose,  King  Pepin,  Sir  David, and  Tappitourie — 
you  wee  lazy  deevil — help  Mr.  North  up — ^help  Mr.  North  up  on 
my  shoothers !  • 

(Mr.  North  is  elevated^  Crutch  and  all,  astride  on  /Ae  Shep- 
herd's shoulders,) 

North,  Good  God  I     Where  is  Mr.  Tickler  % 

Shepherd,  Look — look — look,  sir, — yonner  he's  staunin'  on  the 
brace-piece— on  the  mantel !  Noo,  Awmrose,  and  a'  ye  waiters, 
make  your  escape,  and  leave  us  to  our  fate.  Oh !  Mr.  North,  gie  ua 
a  prayer.  What  for  do  you  look  so  meeserable,  Mr.  Tickler? 
Death  is  common — 'tis  but  "passing  through  Natur'  to  Eternity  !" 
And  yet — to  be  drooned  in  haggis  '11  be  waur  than  Clarence's  dream  ! 
Alack,  and  alas-a-day  !  i'ts  up  to  the  ring  o'  the  bell-rope !  Speak, 
Mr.  Tickler — O  speak,  sir.  Men  in  our  dismal  condition — are  you 
sittin*  easy,  Mr.  North  ? 

North,  Quite  so,  my  dear  James,  I  am  perfectly  resigned.  Yet, 
what  is  to  become  of  Maga. 

Shepherd,  O  my  wee  Jamie  ! 

North.  I  fear  I  am  very  heavy,  James. 

Shepherd,  Dinna  say't,  sir— dinna  say't.  I'm  like  the  pious 
^neas  bearin'  his  father  Ancheeses  through  the  flames  o*  Troy. 
The  simile  does  na  baud  gude  at  a'  points — ^1  wish  it  did.  Oh,  baud 
fast,  sir,  wi'  your  arms  roun'  my  neck,  lest  the  cruel  tyrant  o'  a  hag- 
gis swoop  ye  clean  awa  under  the  sideboard  to  inevitable  death  ! 

North,  Far  as  the  eye  can  reach  it  is  one  wide  wilderness  of  suet ! 

Tickler.  Hurra!  hurra!  hurra! 

Shepherd,  Do  you  hear  the  puir  gentleman,  Christopher  1  It's 
affeckin'  to  men  in  our  condition  to  see  the  pictur  we  hae  baith  read 
o'  in  accounts  o'  shipwrecks  realeezed  !  Timothy's  gane  mad  ! 
Hear  till  him  shoutin'  wi'  horrid  glee  on  the  brink  o*  eternity! 

Tickler,  Hurra !  hurra  !  hurra ! 

North,  Horrible !  most  horrible ! 

Tickler,  The  haggis  is  subsiding — the  haggis  is  subsiding !  It  has 
fallen  an  inch  by  the  sabbase  since  the  Shepherd's  last  ejaculation. 

Shepherd,  If  you're  tellin*  a  lee,  Timothy,  I'll  wade  ower  to  you, 
and  bring  you  doon  aff  the  mantel  wi'  the  crutch.     Can  I  believe 


Digitized  by 


Google 


THE   DESCENT.  191 

my  een  1  It  is  subseedin'.  Hurraw  !  hurraw  !  hurraw !  Nine 
times  nine,  Mr.  North,  to  our  deliverance — and  the  Protestant 
ascendancy ! 

Omnes,  Hurra !  hurraw  !  hurree ! 

Shepherd.  Noo,  sir,  you  may  dismunt 

{Re-enter  the  household^  mth  the  immediate  neighborhood,) 

Shepherd.  High  Jinks !  High  Jinks !  High  Jinks !  The  haggis 
has  puttin'  out  the  fire,  and  sealed  up  the  boiler. 

{The  Shepherd  descends  upon  all  /ours,  and  lets  Mr. 
North  oJ^  gently,) 

North.  Oh,  James,  I  am  a  daft  old  man ! 

Shepherd.  No  sae  silly  as  Solomon,  sir,  at  your  time  o'  life.  Noo 
for  sooper. 

Tickler,  How  the  devil  am  I  to  get  down  ? 

Shepherd,  How  the  deevil  did  you  get  up  ?  Oh,  ho,  by  the  gas 
ladder !  And  it's  been  removed  in  the  confusion.  Either  jump 
down,  or  stay  where  you  are,  Mr.  Tickler. 

Tickler,  Come  now,  James,  shove  over  the  ladder. 

Shepherd,  O  that  Mr.  Chantrey  was  here  to  sculptur  him  in  that 
attitude !  Streitch  out  your  right  haun' !  A  wee  grain  heicher ! 
Hoo  gran' he  looks  in  basso  relievo ! 

Tickler,  Shove  over  the  ladder,  you  son  of  the  mist,  or  I'll  brain 
you  with  the  crystal. 

Shepherd.  Sit  doon,  Mr.  North,  opposite  to  me — and,  Mr.  Awm- 
rose,  tak  roun'  my  plate  for  a  shave  o*  the  beef.  Is  na  he  the  per- 
feck  pictur  o' the  late  Right  Honorable  William  Pitt?  Shall  I 
send  you,  sir,  some  o'  the  biled  dyuck  % 

North.  If  you  please,  James.  Rather  "  Like  Patience  on  a 
monument  smiling  at  Grief." 

Shepherd,  Gie  us  a  sang,  Mr.  Tickler,  and  then  you  shall  hae  the 
ladder.     I  never  preed  a  roasted  roun'  afore — it's  real  savory. 

North.    "  Oh  1  who  can  tell  how  hard  it  is  to  climb 

The  height  where  Fame's  proud  temple  shiDes  afiirl" 

Shepherd.  I'll  let  you  down,  Mr.  Tickler,  if  you  touch  the  ceilin' 
wi'  your  fingers.     Itherwise,  you  maun  sing  a  sang. 

(Tickler  tries  and  fails.) 
.  Tickler.  Well,  if  I  must  sing,  let  me  have  a  tumbler  of  toddy. 

Shepherd.  Ye  shall  hae  that,  sir. 

{The  Shepherd  JUU  a  tumbler  from  a  jug,  and,  balancing  it  on  the 
cross  of  the  Crjitch,  reaches  it  up  to  Mb.  Tioelsr.) 

Tickler,  {sings.) 


Digitized  by 


Google 


192 


NOCTTBS   AMBROBIANA. 


Tichler^  (sings.) 


THE    TWA   MAaiCIANS. 


The  lady  stands  in  her  bower  door, 
As  straight  as  willow-wand ; 

The  blacksmith  stood  a  little  forbye, 
Wi'  hammer  in  his  hand 

Weel  may  ye  dress  ye,  lady  fidr, 

Into  your  robes  o'  red, 
Before  the  mom  at  this  same  time, 

I'll  loose  your  silken  snood. 

Awa',  awa',  ye  coal-black  smith, 
Wou'd  ye  do  me  the  wrang. 

To  think  to  gain  my  virgin  love, 
That  I  hae  kept  sae  lang  f 

Then  she  has  hadden  up  her  hand. 
And  she  sware  by  the  mold, 

I  wu'dna  be  a  blacksmith's  wife 
For  a'  the  warld's  gold. 

01  rather  I  were  dead  and  gone. 
And  my  body  laid  in  grave, 

£re  a  rust;^  stock  o'  coal-black  smith, 
My  virgm  love  shou'd  have. 

But  he  has  hadden  up  his  hand. 

And  he  sware  by  the  mass, 
m  cause  ye  be  my  light  leman, 
For  the  hauf  o'  that  and  less. 
Chorus. — O  bide,  lady,  bide, 
And  aye  he  bade  her  bide ; 
The  rusty  smith  your  leman  shall  be, 
For  a'  your  meikle  pride. 

Then  she  became  a  turtle  dow, 

To  fly  up  in  the  air ; 
And  he  became  another  dow. 

And  they  flew  pair  and  pair. 
O  bide,  lady,  bide,  &c 

She  tum'd  herself  into  an  eel. 
To  swim  into  yon  bum ; 


And  he  became  a  speckled  trout, 
To  give  the  eel  a  turn. 

O  bide,  lady,  bide,  ^ 

Then  she  became  a  duck,  a  daok, 

Upon  a  reedy  lake ; 
And  the  smith,  wi'  her  to  soom  or  direi 

Became  a  rose-kamed  drake. 

O  bide,  lady,  bide,  Ac. 

She  tum'd  herself  into  a  hare, 
To  rin  ower  hill  and  hollow ; 

And  he  became  a  gude  greyhound, 
And  boldly  he  md  foUow. 

O  bide,  lady,  bide,  Aa 

Then  she  became  a  ^y  gray  mare. 

And  stood  in  yonder  slack ; 
And  he  became  a  gilt  saddle. 

And  sat  upon  her  back. 

O  bide,  lady,  bide,  Aa 

Then  she  became  a  het  girdle. 

And  he  became  a  cake ; 
And  a'  the  ways  she  tum'd  heraeU, 

The  bhuiksmith  was  her  make. 

O  bide,  lady,  bide,  Ac. 

She  tum'd  hersell  into  a  ship, 

To  sail  out  ower  the  flood; 
He  ca'd  a  nail  intiU  her  tail. 

And  syne  the  ship  she  stood. 

O  bide,  lady,  bide,  &^ 

Then  she  became  a  silken  plaid, 

And  stretch'd  upon  a  bed : 
And  he  beoame  a  green  covering. 

And  thus  the  twa  were  wed. 
Chorum. — Was  she  wae,  he  held  her  sae^ 
And  still  he  bade  her  bide ; 
The  rusty  smith  her  lemau  waa, 
For  a'  her  meikle  pride. 


Shepherd,  Noo— sir — here  is  the  ladder  to  you — for  which  you're 
indebted  to  Mr.  Peter  Buchan,  o'  Peterhead,  the  ingenious  collector 
o'  the  Ancient  Ballads,  frae  which  ye  have  chanted  so  speeritedly  the 
speerited  Twa  Magicians.  It's  a  capital  collection — and  should  be 
added  in  a'  libraries,  to  Percy,  and  Ritson,  and  Headley,  and  the 
Minstrelsy  o'  the  Border,  and  John  Finlay,  and  Robert  Jamieson, 
and  Gilchrist,  and  Kinloch,  and  the  Quarto  o*  that  clever  chiel,  Mother- 


Digitized  by 


Google 


JSFFRBT.  193 

well  o'  Paisley,  wba*8  no  only  a  gude  collector  and  commentator  o' 
ballads,  but  a  gude  writer  o'  them  too — as  he  has  proved  by  that 
real  poetical  address  o'  Northman  to  his  Swurd  in  ane  o'  the  Annals.* 
Come  awa'  doon,  sir — come  awa'  doon.  Tak  tent,  for  the  steps  are 
gae  shoggly.     Noo — sir — fa'  to  the  roun'. 

Tickler,  I  have  no  appetite,  James.  I  have  been  suffering  all 
night  under  a  complication  of  capital  complaints — the  toothache, 
which,  like  a  fine  attenuated  red-hot  steel-sting,  keeps  shooting 
through  an  old  rugged  stump,  which  to  touch  with  my  tongue  is 
agony — the  tongue-ache,  from  a  blister  on  that  weapon,  that  1  begin 
to  fear  may  prove  cancerous — the  lip-ache,  from  having  accidentally 
given  myself  a  labial  wound  in  sucking  out  an  oyster — the  eye- 
ache,  as  if  an  absolute  worm  were  laying  eggs  in  the  pupil — the 
ear-ache,  tinglin*  and  stounin'  to  the  very  brain,  till  my  drum  seems 
beating  for  an  evening  parade — to  which  add  a  headache  of  the 
nammer  and  anvil  kind — and  a  stomach-ache,  that  seems  to  inti- 
mate that  dyspepsia  is  about  to  be  converted  into  cholera  morbus ; 
and  you  have  a  partial  enumeration  of  the  causes  that  at  present 
deaden  my  appetite — and  that  prevented  me  from  chanting  the 
ballad  with  my  usual  vivacity.  However — I  will  trouble  you  for  a 
duck. 

Shepherd.  You  canna  be  in  the  least  pain,  wi'  sae  mony  com- 
plaints as  these — for  they  maun  neutraleeze  ane  anither.  But  even 
if  they  dinna,  I  believe  mysell,  wi'  the  Stoics,  that  pain's  nae  evil. 
Dinna  you,  Mr.  North  ? 

North.  Certainly.  But,  Tickler,  you  know,  has  many  odd  crotchets. 
Pray,  James,  have  you  read  the  last  number  of  the  Edinburgh  Re- 
view ? 

Shepherd.  Pray,  Mr.  North,  have  you  lowpt  ower  the  Castle  o* 
Embro?  I  would  as  sune  offer  to  walk  through  the  interior  o* 
Africa,  frae  Tripoli  to  Timbuctoo.  Howsomever,  I  did  read  Mr. 
Jaffray's  article  on  the  Decline  and  Fa'  o*  Poetry. 

North.  I  read  with  pleasure  all  that  my  ingenious  brother  writes ; 
but  ho  is  often  a  little  paradoxical  or  so — sometimes  a  little  super- 
ficial, I  fear,  in  his  philosophy  and  criticism.  However,  he  handles 
delicately  and  gracefully  every  subject  he  touches;  and  seldom  fiiils 
to  leave  on  it  something  of  the  brightness  of  his  genius. 

Shepherd.  The  article's  doonricht  intolerable  and  untenable  non- 
sense frae  beginnin'  to  end.  Whether  poetry's  exhowsted  or  no,  it's 
no  for  me  to  say ;  but  Mr.  Jaffray  himsell,  though  that  could  scarcely 
hae  been  his  end  in  writin't,  has  proved  in  his  article,  beyond  a' 
doubt,  that  Criticism  is  in  the  dead-thraws. 

*  William  MoUierw«ll,  bora  at  Glueow  in  1708 :  died  in  1835.  He  wu  editor  of  the  Olat^ 
gout  Courier.  In  1827  he  pabliihed  the  collection  abore-mentioned,— called  Minitreii7 
Anoient  and  Modem.  In  1833  appeared  a  volume  of  hie  oirn  poems,  some  of  them  in  th« 
Boottieh  dialect,  breathing  pathos  and  inuneitj  of  feeling  rarely  fsrpaased.^M. 

Vol.  ra— 14 


Digitized  by 


Google 


194  N00TE8  AHBBOBIANJB. 

North,  I  was  somewhat  surprised  certainly,  James,  to  hear  mj 
brother  absolutely  asserting,  that  in  our  Poetry,  since  CoMrper,  there 
is  "  little  invention,  little  direct  or  overwhelming  passion,  and  little 
natural  simplicity," — "  no  sudden,  unconscious  bursts,  either  of  nature 
or  passion — no  casual  flashes  of  fancy — ^no  slight  passing  intimations 
of  deep  but  latent  emotions — no  rash  darings  of  untutored  genius 
soaring  proudly  up  into  the  infinite  unknown." 

Shepherd,  After  bavin'  in  every  ither  article,  for  the  last  twenty 
years  labored  wi'  a'  his  power  to  prove  the  direck  contrar' !  Noo 
that  the  New  Licht  has  brak  in  on  him,  he  maun  look  back  on  the 
Francey  Jaffray  that  keepit  year  after  year  oratorically — I  mean 
oracularly — haranguin'  on  the  terrible  and  awfu'  bursts  o' a'  the  dark 
and  fierce  passions  in  Byron's  poetry,  as  a  wee  demented  madman 
or  lunatic 

North,  But  what  say  you,  James,  to  "  no  rash  darings  of  untutored 
genius  "  ? 

Shepherd,  That  it's  either  nonsensical  or  fawse.  If  he  allude  to  the 
great  leevin'  poets  wha  have  had  college  educations,  then  it's  nonsensi- 
cal;  for  hoo  could  they  "  shew  rash  dawrin's  o' untutored  genius,"  see- 
in'  that  ane  and  a'o'  them  had  tutors,  public  and  preevat,  for  years? 
If  he  allude  to  me,  and  Allan  Kinnigam,  and  Bloomfield,  and  Clare,* 
and  ithers,  wha  were  left  to  edicate  oursells,  then  it's  fiiwse.  "  Nae 
rash  dawrin's  o'  untutored  genius,"  indeed  !  I'll  thank  him,  or  the 
likes  o'  him,  wi'  a'  his  tutored  genius,  to  write  Kilmeny,  or  Mary 
Lee  the  Female  Pilgrim  o'  the  Sun,  or  ae  single  prose  tale  o'  honest 
Allan's,  or  ae  single  sang  like  mony  o'  his  spirit-stirrin*  strains  baith 
about  the  land  and  the  sea.  *^  Nae  rash  dawrin's  o'  untutored  genius" 
indeed !  Impident  body,  I  wush  he  may  nae  hae  been  fou — or  rather, 
I  wush  he  may — for  afore  I  declair'd  mysell  a  Tory,  he  himsell  told 
the  warld  in  sae  mony  words  that  my  poetry  was  fu'  o'  "  Dawrin' 
flichts  o'  untutored  genius ; "  and  sae  it  is,  in  spite  o*  the  ignorant 
impertinence  o'  the  like  o'  him,  and  ither  envious  elves,  that  out  o' 
natural  or  political  malice  will  anonymously  slump  halfa-dizzen  o* 
men  o'  genius  ower  into  ae  clause  of  sentence,  which,  when  you  an- 
aleeze't  is  just  naething  mair  nor  less  than  a  self-evident  and  con- 
temptible lee. 

North.  How  I  admire  the  Doric  dialect,  my  dear  James  !  What 
a  difference  to  the  ear  in  the  sound  of  lie  and  lee ! 

Shepherd,  My  ear  detecks  nane.  But  supposin'  there  to  be  a  dif« 
ference  i'  the  soun',  there's  nane  in  the  sense ;  and  Mr.  Jaflfray,  either 
in  the  ae  creetique  or  the  ither,  maun  hae  said  what  is  no  true. 

North,  A  mere  matter  of  taste— of  opinion,  James ;  and  will  you 
not  allow  a  man  to  change  his  mind  1 

*  Alloa  CnniUBKhuiif  the  Scottish  poet,  already  aotioed.  Robert  Bloomfield,  aathor  of  Uie 
Farmer's  Boy,  and  other  poems.  Johm  Clare,  called  the  Northampton  Feasant,  many  of  whose 
lyrics  poiMss  mnoh  merit.— H. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


JXFFBET  ON  MODERN  FOETBY.  195 

Shepherd,  No,  I  won't.  At  least  no  an  auld  man  like  Mr.  Jafiray. 
It's  just  in  mere  matters  o'  taste  and  opinion  that  Fll  no  alloo  him  or 
ony  ither  supperannated  creetio  to  say  that  he  has  changed  his  mind 
— without  at  least  tellin'  him  that  he's  a  coof — ^and  that  what  he  may 
conceive  to  be  a  change  o'  opinion,  is  only  a  decay  o'  faculties — ^a 
dotage  o'  the  mind. 

North,  My  brother  complains  that  we  have  no  poetry  now-a-day  s, 
containing  ^*  slight  passing  intimation  of  deep,  but  latent  emotions," 
yet  in  three  or  four  most  elaborate  disquisitions  of  his  on  the  genius 
of  Campbell,  the  power  of  thus,  by  slight  passing  intimations,  raising 
**  deep  but  latent  emotions,"  is  dwelt  upon  as  the  power  character- 
istic of  that  delightful  poet,  beyond  almost  all  other  men  that  ever 
wrote! 

Shepherd.  Hoo  can  a  man,  after  eontradickin'  himsel'  in  that  silly 
and  senseless  manner,  look  himsel'  in  the  face  in  the  momin',  when 
he  sits  doon  to  shave  ? 

North,  My  brother  goes  on  to  say  of  modem  British  Poets,  that 
^'  their  chief  fault  is  the  want  of  subject  and  matter,  the  absence  of 
real  persons,  intelligible  interests,  and  conceivable  incidents " 

Shepherd,  I  really  wush,  sir,  you  would  gie  ower  quotin'  drivel, 
for  it  maks  me  sick.  Ga'  you  that  leavin',  ^*  on  every  subject  he 
touches,  something  o'  the  brichtness  o'  his  genius  1 " 

North,  Why,  \  confess,  James,  that  here  my  respected  brother  is 
indeed  a  great  goose. 

Shepherd,  Or  rather  a  wee  bit  duck,  cryin'  quack,  quack,  quack, 
as  it  plouters  amang  the  dubs ;  and  then  streekin'  itsel'  up,  as  if  it 
were  try  in'  to  staun  on  its  tail,  and  flappin'  the  dirty  pearls  frae  its 
wings,  and  lengthenin'  out  its  neck  like  an  eel,  and  lookin'  roun' 
about  it  wi '  a  sort  o'  triumph,  cries  quack,  quack,  quack,  again,  and 
then  dives  down  in  the  gulf  profoond  for  anither  mouthfu'  o'  some- 
thin',  leavin'  naethin*  veesible  in  the  upper  warld  but  its — doup ! 

North,  The  poetry  of  Crabbe  and  Scott  is  fuller  of  "  real  persons, 
intelligible  interests,  and  conceivable  incidents,"  than  any  other 
poetry,  Shakspeare  of  course  always  excepted,  perhaps  yet  in  exist- 
ence; and  this,  or  nearly  this,  my  brother  has  said  at  least  a  thou- 
sand times — showing,  and  well  showing — for  I  repeat,  James,  *♦  that 
on  every  subject  he  handles,  he  leaves  something  of  the  brightnetra  of 
his  genius  " — that  therein  lies  their  power  and  glory. 

Shepherd,  And  I  hae  only  to  repeat,  sir,  that  I  wonder  hoo  your 
brither  can  after  a'  that  look  himsel'  in  the  face  in  the  momin'  when 
he  sits  doon  to  shave. 

North.  My  brother,  James,  says,  that  all  the  poems  of  Crabbe, 
Scott,  Byron,  Moore,  Southey,  Wordsworth,  Coleridge,  Campbell, 
yourself,  and  all  other  poets  now  living  or  dead  since  Cowper  and 
Bums,  ^  are  but  shadows,  we  fear,  that  have  no  independent  or  sub- . 


Digitized  by 


Google 


196  KOGTEB  AMBB08IA1CJL 

staotial  existence ;  and  though  reflected  from  grand  and  beaudfu] 
originals,  have  but  little  chance  "  of  being  remembered,  and  so  forth. 
What  say  you  to  that,  James  ? 

Shepherd.  I  say  that  that's  either  no  in  the  Edinburgh  Review,  or 
that  the  Editor  ought  to  be  in  a  strait- waistcoat.  For  the  man  that 
raves  in  that  fashion's  no  safe,  and  some  day  '11  bite. 

North,  Scott's  Poems,  he  says,  are  mere  reflections  of  the  Ro- 
mances of  Chivalry — which,  I  admit,  he  could  not  have  said,  had  he 
ever  read  one  single  romance  of  chivalry,  either  in  prose  or  verse — 
as  you,  James,  know  well,  that  in  all  points  whatever  they  are  the 
very  antipodes. 

Shepherd,  I  never  read,  nor  even  saw  ane  o'  the  Romances  o'  Chiv- 
alry in  my  life— -excepp  you  ca'  Blind  Harry's  Sir  William  Wallace 
ane — and  it,  to  be  sure,  though  a  glorious  auld  thing,  has  about  as 
little  resemblance  to  Marmion,  as  a  peat-car — nae  contemptible 
vehickle  for  rattlin'  either  up  or  doon  a  hill  wi'  an  active  nag — to  a 
war-chariot  armed  wi'  scythes,  and  thunderin'  ower  the  field  wi'  four 
white  horses. 

North.  Then  Wordsworth,  it  seems,  went  back  to  the  early  bal- 
lads for  his  Excursion,  Sonnets  to  Liberty,  ^.  ^.,  and  all  others 
alike  to  Spenser  and  Shakspeare,  and 

Shepherd,  Oh,  sir !  tell  me  what  I  hae  said  or  dune  to  deserve  sic 
drivel  as  this  bein'  poured  out  upon  me  as  a  punishment ;  and  I 
wull  make  ony  apology  you  like  to  demand,  doon  even  to  axin'  par- 
don at  your  feet  on  my  bare  knees ! 

North,  My  brother  sums  up  by  setting  Mr.  Atherstone,  as  a  poet, 
by  the  side  of  Mr.  Southey  ! 

Shepherd,  Mr.  Atherstane,  from  what  I  have  seen  o'  his  verses, 
may  just  as  weel  be  set  at  ance  by  the  side  o'  Shakspeare.  Mr. 
Soothey  is  a  poet  o'  the  very  highest  order,  sir — and  Thalaba, 
Madoc,  Roderic,  Kehama— are  gran'  soun's,  that  at  ance  fill  the  mind 
with  images  o'  high  achievement.  Has  Mr.  Atherstane  really  writ- 
ten poems  like  them  %  If  sae,  I  wush  I  was  introduced  to  him — and 
that  he  was  sittin'  here  just  noo  at  the  Noctes. 

North,  I  should  have  no  objections,  James-^none  in  the  world  ; 
but  Mr.  Atherstone  (I  say  it  reluctantly)  is  not  much  of  a  poet.* 
Something  of  a  painter  he  may  be,  though  his  conceptions,  vivid 
enough  in  themselves,  seem  to  arise  in  series,  and  oflen  too  in  great 
confusion  and  disarray ;  nor  has  he  been  able  to  produce  a  single 
picture,  having  in  it  Unity,  comprehending  all  the  details,  great  and 
small,  to  which  they  are  all  made  to  conform,  and  which  is  felt  to 
be  the  spirit  of  the  whole.    Till  he  does  this,  he  is  not  even  a  pain- 


*  Edwin  Atherstone,  author  of  A  Midirainmer  Day'e  Dream,  and  an  epio  in  blank  renc, 

ailed  The  Fall  of  Ninereh,  of  irhioh  Profee«>r  Wi'         "*"'  ' 

vood  -the  reeolt,  perhapa,  of  JeffivrV  orer-praiiing  i 


«*alled  The  Fall  of  Ninereh,  of  irhioh  Profeeeor  Wilton  «,¥•  a  rery  eerere  revieir  in  Bl&ok- 
"*     ■  •    t  it.— mT 


Digitized  by 


Google 


A  OHABMING  OEITia  197 

ter ;  and  for  the  truth  of  what  I  say,  I  refer  him  to  his  friend  Martin. 
In  the  same  article,  my  brother  laments  the  loss  "  in  the  mom  and 
liquid  dew  of  their  youth"  of  Kirke  White,  Keats,  and  Pollok — 
and  "  that  powerful,  though  more  uncertain  genius,  less  prematurely 
extinguished,  Shelley."  Now,  why  did  he  not  encourage,  animate, 
and  spread  the  fame  of  these  poets  while  they  were  alive,  to  reap 
profit  and  pleasure  from  his  praise  1 

Shepherd,  I  fancy,  because  he  cared  little  or  naething  about 
them,  and  either  never  knew,  or  forgot,  that  such  poets  were  in  ex- 
istence. 

North,  Henry  Kirke  White,  when  chilled  by  the  frost  of  criticism, 
would  have  had  his  blood  warmed  within  the  very  core  of  his  heart, 
by  a  panegyric  on  his  genius  in  such  a  work,  so  powerful  for  good 
and  evil,  as  the  Edinburgh  Review  then  was.  But  no — not  a  hint 
dropped  of  "  the  morn  and  liquid  dew  of  his  life,"  till  many  years 
after  his  pure  spirit  had  soared  to  heaven  !* 

Shepherd,  While  Mr.  Soothey  cheered  the  life  o'  the  young  pen- 
sive bard,  and  after  death,  embalmed  his  name  in  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  pieces  of  biography  in  the  language ! 

North,  My  brother  praised  Keats,  it  is  true,  but  somewhat  tardily, 
and  with  no  discrimination  ;  and,  to  this  hour,  he  has  taken  no  notice 
of  his  Lamia  and  Isabella,  in  which  Keat's  genius  is  seen  to  the  best 
advantage ;  while,  from  the  utter  silence  observed  towards  him  in 
general,  it  is  plain  enough  that  he  cares  nothing  for  him,  and  that  it 
is  not  unjust  or  unfair  to  suspect  the  insertion  of  the  article  on  En- 
dymion  was  brought  about  by  a  Cockney  job  of  Hunt  or  Hazlitt's. 

Shepherd.  Is  his  review  o'  Pollok's  Course  of  Time  a  fine  one  ? 

North,  That  noble  poem  has  never  been  so  much  as  mentioned, 
— though,  no  doubt,  the  mere  introduction  of  Pollok's  name  is 
thought  to  be  sufficient  sacrifice  to  the  genius  of  that  singularly 
gifted  young  man. 

Shepherd,  And  what  said  he  o*  Shelley  1 

North.  Never,  to  the  best  of  my  remembrance,  one  single  sylla- 
ble. Now,  my  dear  James,  all  this  may  be  very  consistent  with 
the  principles  on  which  my  brother  conducts  his  review ;  but  nobody 
can  say  that  it  is  a  high-minded,  fine-sou  led,  warm-hearted  system. 
The  voice  of  praise  can  be  of  no  avail  then, — 

<*  Nor  flattery  soothe  the  doll  oold  ear  of  death.** 
Still,  with  all  his  deficiencies,  inconsistencies,  and  contradictions,  my 
brother  is  a  charming  critic. 

Shepherd,  O'  a'  the  creetics  o'  this  age,  you  alone,  sir,  have  shown 
that  you  have  a  heart.  You're  the  best  creetio  ever  existed  o'  warka 
o'  imagination. 

*  It  is  odd  «iioagh  that  Jeffrey,  irho  lamented  the  de&th  of  vich  ixxo  as  Kirke  White,  Keats, 
PoUok,  and  Shelley,  did  not  notice  any  of  them  in  the  Kdtnbwrgk  Ameao,  when  they  were 
liTinfi,  and  scarcely  more  afterwards. — M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


198  N00TE8  AMBBOSIANiB. 

North,  That  seems  to  be  the  general  opinion.  Yet  even  I  am 
not  perfection. 

Shepherd,  Dinna  allow  y oursell  to  say  sae,  sir ;  you're  far  ower 
modesl. 

North,  There's  Mr.  David  Lester  Richardson,  or  some  other  dis- 
satisfied  person,  who  says,  in  that  entertaining  work,  the  London 
Weekly  Review,  that  the  last  degradation  that  can  befall  a  writer, 
is  to  bo  praised  in  Blackwood's  Magazine. 

Shepherd,  Faith,  he's  maybe  no  far  wrang  there.  Is  that  the 
Diamond  Poet,  who  published  three  hunder  and  sixty-five  pane- 
gyrics on  his  ain  genius,  by  way  o'  Notes  and  Illustrations  to  his 
Sonnets — ane  for  every  day  in  the  year  ? 

North,  The  same.* 

Shepherd,  His  modesty's  amaist  as  great's  your  ain,  sir ;  for  he 
canna  bring  himsell  to  believe  that  ony  body  will  credit  his  being  a 
poet,  without  ha'en  his  judgment  overpowered  by  the  testimony  o' 
a  cloud  o'  witnesses. 

North,  Perhaps  he  was  nettled,  James,  by  my  exposure  of  that 
puffery  ;  but  the  truth  is,  I  have  a  great  kindness  for  David,  and 
the  very  first  volume,  either  of  prose  or  verse,  he  publishes,  I  shall 
try  him  with  praise  in  Blackwood  ;  and  he  will  be  surprised  to  find 
that  it  is  far  more  delightful,  and  not  nearly  so  degrading,  as  he  or 
his  contributor,  during  a  fit  of  the  jaundice,  imagined. 

Shepherd,  Tak  care  ye  dinna  turn  his  head — fori  should  be  sorry 
o'  that,  as,  if  he's  the  editor  o*  the  Weekly  Review,  he's  a  clever 
fallow.f 

North,  Hazlitt,  too,  has  lately  somewhere  said — I  think  in  that 
acute  paper,  the  Examiner — that  Maga  is  a  work  of  which  no  man 
will  mention  the  name,  who  has  any  regard  to  his  own  character. 
Now,  Hazlitt  has  not  written  a  paper  of  any  kind  whatever,  these 
last  ten  years,  without  using  the  most  unwarrantable,  and  unpro- 
voked, and  unnecessary  liberties,  with  Maga's  name.  Therefore, 
Hazlitt  is  a  man  who  has  no  regard  to  his  own  character. 

Shepherd,  You  hae  him  on  the  hip,  there,  sir.  It's  a  good  syllo- 
gism. 

North,  Yet  you  see,  James,  the  inutility  of  the  syllogistic  form  of 
reasoning;  for  it  ends  with  proving  what  has  already  been  admitted 
by  all  the  world. 

*  Mr.  Richardson  published  hU  venet  in  what  was  called  '^The  Diamond  Poets"— bee&nso 
printed  in  diamond  type — and  part  of  the  volnme  consisted  of  «//  the  favorable  notices  vrhich 
bad  appeared,  *^for  love  or  money."  in  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  newspapers.  Profeasor 
Wilson  vrrote  a  very  sharp  critique,  in  Blackwood,  on  Richardson  and  his  Sonnets. — M. 

t  The  London  Weekly  Hrvicw,  which  combined  the  best  features  of  the  JAterary  GaieU*  txA 
the  JiLhen<nLmy  was  in  existence  from  18*27  to  1830.  Its  editors  were  Mr.  St.  John,  author  of  a 
Tour  in  Egypt,  (and  one  of  the  writers  in  the  Sundav  Time*  of  London^  uid  Leitch  Ritchie, 
DOW  editor  of  Chambers^  Jountal,  in  Edinburgh.  The  money  was  found  by  Mr.  Riohardaop, 
who  had  made  it  in  India.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


MAOA.  199 

Shepherd.  I  see  your  meanin',  sir — Oh !  but  you're  a  desperate 
sateerical  auld  chiel,  and  plant  your  skein  dhu 

North,  The  blundering  blockhead,  James,  drove  his  own  knife  up 
to  the  hilt  in  his  own  side,  beneath  the  fiflh  rib,  in  his  rage  to  strike 
a  harmless  old  man  like  me,  who  was  not  minding  the  maniac,  and 
had  not  kicked  him  Ibr  years. 

Sfiepherd,  Oh !  man,  but  there's  a  cawm,  cauld,  clear,  glitterin' 
cruelty  in  the  expression  o'  your  een  the  noo,*  that's  no  canny,  and 
you'll  obleege  me  by  takin'  aff  your  glass ;  for  the  taste  o'  that 
Glen li vet's  eneuch  to  saflen  the  sowl  towards  the  greatest  reprobate. 
A  caulker  o't  could  make  a  man  for  a  minute  or  twa  amaist  endure 
a  Cockney. 

North,  Maga,  James,  is  an  engine. 

Shepherd,  An  ingine ! — Lord  safe  us ! — She  is  that ! — An  Ingine 
o'  five  hunder  elephant-power.  Nae  mortal  man  should  be  entrusted 
wi'  sic  an  Ingine ;  it's  aneuch  to  make  ony  man  as  prood  as  Nebu- 
chadnezzer — and  if  you  dinna  tak  tent,  wha  kens  but  you  may  share 
the  fate  o'  that  unfortunate  monarch.  You  would  be  a  curious 
creeter  on  a'  fowres,  munchin'  gerse ! 

North,  Maga  is,  you  know,  my  dear  James,  an  omnipresence.  In 
hall  and  hut  alike,  her  visits  are  hailed  by  the  heart-acclamation  of 
young  and  old — her  face  beams  in  equal  beauty  by  the  fire-light  re- 
flected from  brass  mirrors  bright  as  gold,  within  a  chimney-piece  of 
the  dove-colored  Italian  marble — and  by  the  peat-low  frae  the  ingle 
o'  the  *'auld  clay  biggin' " 

Shepherd,  As  noo  and  then  the  melted  snaw-flakes  drip  doun  the 
open  lumm,  sir,  and  the  reading  lassie,  while  the  flickering  flame 
momentarily  leaves  a  darker  shade  ower  the  gay  or  serious  page, 
loots  doon  her  silken  snood  nearer  to  the  embers,  that  the  circle 
mayna  lose  a  word  o'  auld  Christopher  North,  or  the  Shepherd,  or 
Delta,  whether  Delta  be  singin'  a  sweet  sang,  aiblins  about  Mary 
Queen  o'  Scotland,  or  tell  in'  a  comical  story  in  a  Chapter  in  the 
Life  and  Adventures  o'  that  curious  Dalkeith  tailor  body,  now  re- 
tired, as  I  hear,  frae  bizziness,  hain'  taen  out  his  capital  altogether, 
and  become  a  Box-proprieter  on  the  Esk — Mansie  Wauch. 

North,  That,  James,  is  true  fame.  The  consciousness  of  a  circu- 
lation confined  to  certain  classes — an  exclusive  circulation,  would  be 
the  death,  or  paralysis  of  my  genius. 

Shepherd.  'Cause  in  that  case  you  would  have  to  compose  for  an 
exclusive  circulation — Oh,  dear!  oh,  dear!  oh,  dear!  perhaps  a 
Cockney  coterie, — and  then  to  a'  mankind  you  would  become  either 
unintelligible  or  disgustin' !  Does  your  body,  sir,  ever  get  wearied 
wi'  writin'  ?  for  as  to  your  mind,  ane  micht  as  weel  ask  if  the  vis 
generawtrtx  Natv.rce  ever  got  wearied. 

North.  I  write,  James,  by  screeds.      Whenever   I   feel   the   fit 


Digitized  by 


Google 


200  NOOTES  AHBROSIAN^ 

coming  on,  which  it  often  does  about  ten  in  the  morning — ^never 
sooner — I  encourage  it  by  a  caulker — a  mere  nutshell,  which  my 
dear  friend,  the  English  Opium-Eater,  would  toss  off  in  laudanum ; 
as  soon  as  I  feel  that  there  is  no  danger  of  a  relapse — that  my 
demon  will  be  with  me  during  the  whole  day — I  order  dinner  at 
nine — shut  myself  up  within  triple  doors — and  as  I  look  at  the 
inner  one  in  its  green-baized  brass-knobbedness,  there  comes  upon 
me  an  inspiring  sense  of  security  from  all  interruption,  nay,  from  all 
connection,  or  even  remembrance  of  the  outer  world.  The  silver 
salver — you  know  it,  James — with  a  few  rusks,  and  half  a  pint  of 
Madeira — a  moderation  which  Sir  Humphrey*  must  approve — stands 
within  a  few  inches  of  my  writing  hand.  No  desk !  an  inclined 
plane — except  in  bed — is  my  abhorrence.  All  glorious  articles 
must  be  written  on  a  dead  flat. 

Shepherd.  No  if  you  use  the  sclate. 

North.  At  two  o'clock,  from  September  to  March — true  to  a 
minute — Robin  Redbreast  comes  hopping  in  through  one  unglazed 
diamond  of  my  low  lattice — Mousey  peers  with  his  black  eyes  and 
whiskered  nose  out  o'  his  hole,  and  the  two  contend  in  pretty  gam- 
bols about  the  crumbs. 

Shepherd,  What  a  pictur'  o'  Innocence  !  Oh,  my  dear,  dear  Mr. 
North,  Tve  afien  thocht  you  were  ower  gude^-ower  tender  o'  natur — 
ower  simple  for  this  wicked,  hard,  cunnin'  warld. 

North,  Mousey,  after  feeding  and  fun,  glides  into  his  hole  behind 
the  wainscot,  and  Robin  flits,  with  a  small  sweet  song,  into  the 
shrubbery — and  then  I  at  it  again  tooth  and  nail  — 

Shepherd.  Sacrifeecin',  periiaps,  the  peace  not  only  o'  individuals 
but  o'  families — by  making  them,  and  a*  that's  connecket  wi'  them, 
meeserable  in  life,  and  sae  odious  and  infamous  after  death,  that  the 
son  gies  up  his  father's  name  a'thegither ;  if  the  surname  be  ane  o' 
ae  syllable,  the  better  to  obliterate  a  remembrance  o't  even  in  his 
ain  mind,  adoptin'  ane  o'  four  or  five — and  changiu'  the  Christian 
name,  too,  into  something  heathenish,  as,  for  example,  Tarn  into 
Heliogabawlus. 

North,  Just  as  the  gloaming  begins  to  deepen  on  the  wire-wove 
paper,  so  tha&  there  is  felt  a  slight  strain  on  the  optic  nerve,  and  pots 
and  hooks  assume  a  hieroglyphical  character — inaudibly  doth  door 
after  door  open  I'ke  a  dream — and  Uelen,f  with  a  wax  candle  in 
either  pretty  small  hand,  between  which  are  seen  shining  her  large 
blue  eyes,  soft  in  their  brightness,  in  a  moment  is  at  my  side,  and 
my  manuscripts  are  at  once  illuminated. 

*  Sir  Hnmphrey  Davy,  the  great  ohemiit,  and  President  of  the  Royal  Society,  in  London. 
An  lulian,  who  had  to  write  to  him,  addreising  the  letter  by  the  eonad  of  hie  name,  directed 
It  to  '•  Somifrodevi,  London."— M. 

t  Helen  Gentle,— an  eidolon  of  the  Noctee.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


HOW  NORTH  00MP08S8.  201 

Shepherd,  She's  a  bonny  lassie.  I  saw  a  pictur  very  like  her  the 
day  in  Mr.  Galli's  exhibition  on  the  Mound  — 

North,  An  exhibition  which  all  people  should  visit.  It  contains 
many  excellent,  and  some  splendid  pictures. 

Shepherd,  Oh  !  but  the  Auld  Masters,  sir,  had  a  deep  sense  o'  the 
beautifu'  — 

North,  No  soup — but  first  a  sole,  then  a  beef-steak,  and  then  a 
chicken — with  a  finish  of  a  few'  tartlets,  and  a  saucer  of  parmesan — 
judiciously  interspersed  with  an  occasional  sip  of  old  hock  ending 
in  a  gulp—a  caulker,  of  course — and  then  at  the  MSS.  again,  over  a 
Scotch  pint  of  claret.     By  midnight — 

**  Ae  wee  short  hour  ayont  the  twal  f 

and  lo !  ready  for  the  devil  a  sheet  of  Maga ! 

Shepherd,  And  whan  do  you  rise  ? 

North,  Early.  Precisely  at  nine  (I  speak  of  winter,)  Helen  is  at 
my  bedside  — 

**  And,  like  the  murmur  of  a  dream, 
I  hear  her  breathe  my  name." 

Shepherd,  That's  scarcely  safe,  sir. 

North,  God  bless  the  dear  child  ! — she  loves  me  with  all  the  rev- 
erential affection  of  a  grand-daughter.  While  I  keep  getting  fairly 
awake,  she  stirs  up  the  fire,  that  has  been  napping  during  the  night, 
and,  arranging  with  delicate  dexterity  my  shirt,  drawers,  stockings, 
breeches,  62c.,  on  a  neat  mahogany  screen,  places  it  before  the  glow 
— and  disappears.  In  about  half  an  hour,  I  am  apparelled^- 
and  just  as  I  have  given  the  last  touch  to  the  topmost  curl  of  my 
wig  — 

Shepherd,  I  like  ye  best  bald  — 

North,  The  clear  tingle-ingle-ing  of  the  small  brass  bell  in  the 
hand  of  my  pretty  maiden  — 

Shepherd,  That's  the  thing — and  no  ane  o'  thae  infernal  bells  that 
the  man-servant  in  some  houses  keeps  ringing  for  ten  minutes,  as  if 
be  meant  to  awawken  a'  the  folk  in  the  neist  street  — 

North,  Chimes  me  down  to  the  parlor  — 

Shepherd,  Nae  mair  aboot  your  domestic  economy,  sir.  You're 
gettin'  egoutistical. 

North,  I  wrote  "  Christopher  in  his  Sporting  Jacket,"  James — 
forty  pages  of  Maga — at  two  such  sittings. 

Sh^herd,  I  dinna  believe  you — though  you  should  swear't  on  the 
Bible. 

North,  At  five  such  sittings  I  have  more  than  once  written  —with 
this  hand  — 


Digitized  by 


Google 


202  NOCTTES   AMBBOSIANJS. 

Sliepherd.  And  a  lang-fingered,  bony,  ghaunt,  fbrmidable-lookin' 
haun  it  is,  like  the  haun  o'  grim  death — clutchin'  — 

North,  Written  the  whole  Magazine* — an  entire  Number, 
James  — 

Shepherd.  And  a  desperate  bad  ane  it  must  hae  been  — 

North.  No,  James, — brilliant  as  the  Aurora  Borealis — musical  aa 
is  Apollo's  lute. 

Shepherd.  And  that's  the  way  ye  serve  your  contributors! 
Flingin'  thejr  capital  articles  intil  the  Balaam-box  that  your  ain  trash 
may  — 

North.  Trash  !     What  the  devil  do  you  mean  by  trashy  sir? 

Shepherd.  I  just  mean  a  hantle  o'  your  ain  articles — especially 
them  that  you're  fondest  and  proodest  o' — sic  as  "  Streams*' — 
"  Cottages"—"  Hints  for  Holidays"  — 

North.  Oh !  James — James — that  genius  should  be  thus  debased 
by  jealousy  — 

Shepherd.  Me  jealous  o'  you  ?  That's  a  gude  ane.  But  what 
for  didna  you  send  me  out  a*  the  Annwalls  o'  the  year  as  you 
promised  1     I  hate  folk  that  promises  and  ne'er  performs. 

North.  By  the  rule  o'  contraries,  my  character  to  a  tittle.  I 
promise  nothing — and  perform  everything.  But  the  reason,  James, 
was,  that  I  had  not  them  to  send.  The  Keepsake  I  have  not  got 
yetf — but  I  have  Mr.  Alaric  Watts'  Souvenir,  in  my  pocket — there, 
well-caught,  ye  cricketer — aye,  you  may  well  turn  up  your  eyes  in 
admiration — for  of  all  the  embellishments — of  all  the  engravings  I 
ever  beheld,  these  are  the  most  exquisitely  beautiful. 

Shepherd.  Sir  Walter  ?  Ma  faith !  The  thing's  dune  at  last. 
The  verra  man  himsell,  as  if  you  were  lookin'  at  him  through  the 
wrang  end  o'  a  telescope !  Only  see  his  hauns !  The  big,  fat, 
roun',  firm  back  o'  his  hauns !  I  shou'd  hae  said  in  an  instant — 
that's  Sir  Walter — had  I  seen  him  nae  mair  than  just  by  themsells 
thae  hauns!  Hoo  are  ye.  Sir  Walter?  Hoo  are  ye,  sir  ?  I'm  glad 
to  see  you  lookin'  sae  weel.  Na — am  na  1  a  fule,  Mr.  North,  to  be 
speakin'  till  an  eemage,  as  if  it  were — the  Lord  bless  him — the  verra 
leevin'  glory  o*  Scotland  ? 

North.  I  request  posterity  to  be  informed,  that  Leslie's  is  the  best 
likeness  of  Sir  Walter  Scott  ever  achieved — face,  figure,  air,  man- 
ner— all  characteristically  complete  .J  Leslie  is  a  genuine  genius-^ 
so  is  Stephanoflf. 

*  Wilson  uBod  to  boast  that  he  evtdd  -write  an  entire  number  of  Maga  between  Monday  and 
Satarday.    Whethor  ho  ever  did  is  not  kno-wn  to  me. — M- 

t  The  Keep^ake  waa  edited  by  Frederick  Mansel  Reynolds,  eon  of  Frederick  Rejnolds,  the 
dramatist.     He  also  -wrote  the  novel  called  '-  Miserrimu*." — M. 

X  This  portrait  of  Scott,  by  C.  R.  Le&lie,  the  American  artist,  was  engraved  for  the  Literarr 
Soarenir  for  1829,  and  -vras  painted  in  1824,  for  Mr.  Ticknor,  of  Boston,  in  whose  possession  it 
now  is.  I  think  it  the  best  likeness  extant  of  Scott  in  his  later  years.— mj  own  first  Tiew  of 
the  Oieat  Unknown  baring  been  in  1825,  when  he  was  in  Ireland. — M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


LONDON  NEWSPAPERS.  208 

Shepherd,  And  is  the  writin'  in  the  Souvenir  gude,  sir  ? 

North,  -Excellent.  Taken  altogether,  the  volume  is  a  formidable 
rival,  competitor,  or  compeer,  to  the  Anniversary 

Shepherd,  In  leeterature — my  cry  has  ever  been — Free  Tredd, 
Free  Tredd.  If  the  Keepsake  beats  the  beauty  o'  the  Souvenir, 
she  may  change  her  name  into  the  Phoenix  or  the  Bird  o'  Para- 
dise. 

North,  Pocket  the  affront,  James. 

Shepherd,  Hae  you  made  me  a  present  o't,  sir,  outright?  You 
hae? — ^then  alloo  me  to  treat  you  wi'  the  eisters  at  my  ain  ex* 
pense. 

North,  To  purchase  the  Souvenir  in  oysters !  Oh !  the  horrid 
thought ! 

Shepherd,  Rax  me  ower  that  newspaper,  my  dear  sir,  that  I  may 
wrap  it  -^— 

North,  Nay,  we  must  not  destroy  Mr.  Ambrose's  Courier. 

Shepherd.  Is  that  the  Coureer  ?  It's  the  best  paper,  the  Coureer 
o'  the  hail  set. 

North,  There  cannot  be  a  better  paper,  James — but  there  may  be 
as  good — and  the  Standard  is  so — the  two  together,  well  studied, 
may  set  a  young  Member  of  Parliament  up  in  politics.*  Both  true 
to  the  backbone.  "Alike — yet  oh,  how  different!"  Mr.  Street  is 
a  man  of  great  talents— and  Mr.  Giffard  an  admirable  writer.  As 
for  the  Doctor 

Shepherd,  He  has  na  his  match  in  a'  England,  I'm  sure,  for  wut, 
satire,  and  fun,  and  deevil  tak  me  if  he's  no  also  a  maist  poorfu'  rea- 
soner.  Wut  and  Intellect  are  twun-brithers,  and  sae  like  that  but 
for  a  sort  o'  smile  native  to  the  face  o'  the  first,  I'll  defy  you  to  tell 
the  ane  frae  the  ither. 

North,  These  are  my  evening  papers,  James ;  and  my  morning 
ones  are  the  Morning  Post,  always  full  of  news  of  the  fashionable 
world,  and  excellent  and  able  in  its  politics ;  the  Morning  Journal, 
most  spirited  and  vigorous ;  the  Morning  Herald,  miscellaneous  to 
a  most  amusing  degree,  and  teeming  with  various  matter;  the 
Morning  Chronicle — you  know  the  worthy  editor,  Mr.  Blackief, 
James? 

Shepherd,  A  fine  fallow — 'gin  he  were  na  a  Whig — and  a  great 
freen*  o'  dear  Gray's 

North,  Of  itself  a  good  sign  of  his  heart ; — but  though  a  Whig,  not 
a  bitter  one,  and,  though  rather  lengthy — a  writer  of  much  talent  and 
information. 

•  The  Courier^  owned  by  the  late  Mr.  Daniel  Stuart,  was  a  Vicar  of  Bray  amonis^  newipa- 
p«TB,  and,  whoever  were  ministers,  made  a  point  of  BU]iporting  them.  The  Standard^  a  very 
yoang  paper  when  thue  praised  by  North,  has  been  edited,  from  the  fint,  by  Dr.  Lee*  GifTard, 
aad  has  alwavs  been  very  Anti-Cathoiio  and  Conservative.  Maginn  wrote  for  it  for  yean. — M. 

t  Commonly  called  *' Doctor"  Black,  and  an  able,  though  heavy  writer.  Uii  connection 
with  the  newipaper  preM  ceased  MvenU  yean  ago.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


204  N0CTE8   AMBEOBIANiE. 

Shepherd.  Do  you  no  read  The  Auld  Times'? 

North,  What !  not  read  the  leading  journal  of  Europe?  Daily. 
Inexplicable  altogether  in  its  political  machinery,  I  admire  the 
strength  and  audacity  of  the  bold  Old  Times.  I  also  see  that  mode- 
rate and  very  able  paper,  the  Globe.* 

Shepherd.  Faith,  there's  the  Embro'  Saturday  Evening  Post  turn- 
in'  out  a  maist  capital  paper.     There's  smeddum  yonner,  Mr.  North. 

North.  There  is  smeddum  yonder,  James.  The  pen  of  one  first- 
rate  writer  may  be  weekly  traced  in  its  leading  articles,  and  occa- 
sionally elsewhere,  and  some  of  his  coadjutors  are  apparently  men 
of  power  and  principle.  It  has,  though  young,  a  good  circulation, 
and  is  sure  to  succeed.     A  true  Tory. 

Shepherd.  What's  the  real  bonny  feedy  state  o'  the  case,  sir,  the 
noo,  wi'  what's  ca'd  the  Question  o'  Catholic  Emancipawtion  ? 

Tickler,  (yawning  out  of  a  profound  sleep.)  Hallo !  where  am  I  ? 
Who  are  you,  gentlemen,  intruding  on  a  sober  citizen's  privacy  at 
this  hour  of  the  night  1     I  say,  who  are  you  f 

Shepherd.  He  thinks  himsell  at  hame.  I  really  had  nae  notion, 
sir,  that  Mr.  Tickler  was  sae  soon  made  fou  ! 

Tickler.  Made  fou  ?     Heavens,  at  Ambrose's ! 

Shepherd.  At  Awmrose's  sure  aneuch.  You've  been  sleepin'  this 
twa  hours,  wi'  your  mouth  wide  open,  and  it  required  great  forbear- 
ance no  to  put  a  half-lemon  into  your  mouth.  1  would  hae  dune't, 
had  ye  snored — but  as  ye  did  na  snore  nane 

Tickler.  I  have  awoke  to  all  my  *'  aitches  ! " 

Shepherd.  When  you  gang  hame,  let  me  recommend  you  to  get  a 
flann en-petticoat  frae  ane  o'  the  servant  lasses,  and  wrap  it  roun'  your 
chowks. 

Tickler.  Oh !  I  am  in  great  pain,  James !  Let  me  lie  down  on 
the  sofa. 

Shepherd.  Do  sae,  do  sae,  but  dinna  snore  nane.  Weel,  Mr. 
North,  what's  the  bonny  feedy  state  o'  the  case,  wi'  what's  ca'd  the 
Question  o'  Catholic  Emancipawtion?  You  dinna  think  it'll  be 
carried  or  conciliated  ? 

North.  Unquestionably,  James,  there  is  a  belief  among  certain 
circles,  that  think  themselves  well-informed,  with  respect  to  authen- 
tic rumors  of  intended  measures  of  government,  that  something  is  to 
be  done  for  the  Catholics  in  next  session  of  Parliament.  One  can- 
not dine  out  without  having  much  sickening  stuff  of  the  sort  dinned 
into  his  ears.  But  the  nation  has  the  Duke  of  Wellington's  word  for 
it,  that  nothing  will  be  done  for  the  Catholics  in  the  next  Session  of 
Parliament. 

*  The  TimM  wu  then  edited  by  the  late  Thomas  Barnea,  and  the  Olobe,  (which  Cobbott 
Tued  to  call  "the  ball  of  dunf/')  by  Colonel  Torrent,  a  noted  writer  on  Political  Eoonomr, 
and  a  Member  of  Parliament.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


THE  CATHOLIC  QUESTION.  205 

Shepherd.  Has  it  % 

North.  Yes,  the  Duke  of  Wellington  said,  in  his  simple  strong 
style,  in  the  House,  that  "  if  they  kept  quiet,  perhaps  something 
might  be  done  for  them  ; "  but  they  have  not  kept  quiet ;  and,  there- 
fore, certainly  nothing  will  be  done  for  them  next  Parliament.* 

Shepherd.  Quiet,  indeed  !  ay,  ay,  there's  different  kinds  o'  quiet, 
as  the  Duke,  nae  doot,  kens  as  wee!  as  either  you  or  me,  Mr.  North. 

North.  True,  James.  The  French  marshals  in  Spain  used  to  keep 
quiet,  sometimes  for  weeks  and  months  at  a  time,  but  the  great 
Lord,  for  all  that,  lay  asleep  in  his  position  like  a  lion  with  his  eyes 
open,  and  on  an  alarm,  in  half  an  hour  the  whole  British  army  had 
been  in  order  of  battle. 

Shepherd.  A  toon  coof,  comin'  intil  the  kintra,  and  kennin'  o' 
coorse  naething  at  a'  about  the  symptoms  o'  the  atmosphere,  having 
contented  himsell  a'  his  life  wi'  noticin'  the  quicksilver  in  his  glass, 
and  in  spite  o'  a'  its  daily  deceits  keepit  still  payin'  the  maist  shame- 
fu'  deference  to  its  authority,— a  toon  coof,  I  say,  sir,  comin'  intil  the 
Forest,  cocks  his  ee  up  to  the  heavens,  without  attendin'  to  what  airt 
the  wind  blaws  frae,  and  prophecying  a  fine,  clear,  dry,  breezy  day, 
whustles  out  Ponto,  and  awa  to  the  hills  after  the  groose.  The  lift 
looked,  he  thocht,  sae  cawm,  the  weather  sae  settled  !  There  was  a 
cawm  in  heaven,  nae  doot — a  dead  cawm.  But  then  far  aff  on  the 
weather-gleam,  there  was  a  froonin',  threatenin',  sullen,  sulky,  dark, 
dismal,  dour  expression  o'  face  in  the  sky — no  the  less  fearsome 
'cause  o'  the  noo  and  then  glimmerin'  out  o'  something  like  a  grim 
ghastly  smile,  as  if  it  were  stiffled  lichtnin' — ahint  the  cloud  that  noo 
lies  black  and  dense  on  the  towerin*  mountain,  is  heard  first  a  sigh, 
then  a  groan,  then  a  growl,  then  a  clap,  and  then  a  rattle  o'  thunder, 
till  earth  shakes  wi'  a'  her  quiverin'  woods,  and  the  lochs  are  seen 
tumbling  a  foam  on  the  levin  ! — a  deluge  droons  the  misty  hills,  and 
doon  come  the  hay-rucks,  or  the  corn-stooks,  wi'  aiblins  a  human 
dwelling  or  twa,  sailing  alang  the  meadows,  in  which  the  main  course 
o'  the  Tweed  is  lost  as  in  a  sea — sae  sudden,  sae  red  and  sae  roaring  is 
the  spate,  that  sweeps  the  vale  o'  half  its  harvest,  and  leaves  &rmer, 
hind,  and  shepherd,  in  ruin. 

North.  Strong  as  your  imagery  is,  James,  and  vivid — most  vivid 
your  picture — it  is  neither  over-charged,  nor  in  one  point  inapplica- 
ble. 

Shepherd.  I'm  sure  it's  no,  sir.  Then  let  uae  man  tell  me  that 
seven  million  o'  Eerishmen, — for  if  there  were  sax  million  at  the 
last  Noctes,  they'll  be  seven  noo, — will  ever  keep  a  cawm  sugh — 
unless  when  they're  brooin*  mischief.  I  would  despise  them  if  they 
did,  frae  the  bottom  o*  ray  heart — and  I'm  for  frae  despisin'  the 

*  Thoy  ^^  «•  <  IcMp  qnittt  — thenfora  •omething  had  to  1m  done  for  them.— £A- 


Digitized  by 


Google 


206  N00TE8   AMBBOSIAN^ 

Eerish,  wha,  but  for  priests  and  priestcrafl,  would  be,  certes,  a 
glorious  people. 

Tickler,  Why,  according  to  that  rule  of  judgment,  James,  you 
suspect  them  alike,  whether  they  are  tame  or  tumultuous. 

Shepherd.  Ye  maunna  argue  wi'  me,  Mr.  Tickler ;  fa'  asleep— 
for,  wi'  a'  your  poors  o'  reasonin',  I'll  set  ye  doon,  and  nail  your 
coat-tails  to  the  chair,  so  as  you'll  no  be  able  to  get  up  again,  wi' 
the  strong  haun  o'  plain,  gude,  common  sense.  A  Eerland's  under 
the  thoombs  o'  the  Agi  taw  tors.  Thoombs  doon,  and  a's  cawm ; 
— thoombs  up,  and  rebellion  wud  wade  the  bogs  breast-deep  in 
blood. 

North.  I  repeat  what  I  have  said  to  you,  James,  a  hundred  times 
within  these  four  years,  that  the  government  of  this  country  has 
much  to  answer  for  to  civil  and  religious  liberty  on  account  of  its 
shameftil  supineness  —  must  I  say  of  a  British  government — its 
cowardice  ? 

Tickler.  Well,  then,  pray  is  this  state  of  things  to  be  eternal  ? 

Shepherd,  Let  me  answer  that,  Mr.  North.  It  will  last,  Mn 
Tickler,  as  lang  as  the  Bible  is  a  sealed  book.  Break  the  seal — let 
the  leaves  flutter  free — and  Superstition,  blinded  by  the  licht  o' 
heaven,  will  dwine  and  die.  She  will  dwine  for  mony  years  afore 
she  dies ;  but,  during  a'  that  time,  knowledge  will  be  gainin'  head 
o'  ignorance — Eerishmen  will  be  becomin*  mair  and  mair  like  Scotch- 
men and  Englishmen  in  their  character  and  condition — and  when  the 
similitude  grows  strong  and  secure, — for  naebody  wants  perfect 
identity ,~  then,  and  not  till  then,  "  something  perhaps  may  be  done 
for  the  Catholics ;" — and,  feenally, — for  you  maunna  talk  nonsense 
about  eternity, — the  Roman  religion  will  be  undermined  and  fiill, 
and  then  there  will  indeed  be  a  glorious  Emancipawtion. 

North.  Meanwhile,  good  heavens !  what  might  not  the  Irish 
landlords — Protestant  and  Roman  Catholic  alike — do  for  their 
beautiful  country  !  There  are  many  difficulties  to  contend  against; 
but  1,  for  one,  never  could  see  any  mystery  in  the  evils  that  afflict 
Ireland.  She  wants  an  enlightened  system  of  education; — she 
wants  an  enlightened  system  of  employment; — she  wants  an  en- 
lightened system  of  poor-laws  ; — she  wants  an  enlightened,  generous, 
patriotic,  fatherland-loving  resident  gentry — lords  and  commoners ; 
— and  with  these,  Erin  would  indeed  be  the  Emerald  Gem  of  the 
Sea! 

Shepherd,  What  blesses  ae  kintra,  blesses  anither;  and  o'  a* 
blessin's  what's  mair  blessed  than  a  resident  gentry  ? — O  that  ugly 
sumph !  that  first  daured  to  write  doon  in  the  English  language  that 
a  kintra  was  the  better  o'  Absenteeism  ! 

North.  A  paltry  paradox,  that  stunk  in  the  nostrils  before  it  was 
a  day  old. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


AB9KKT1CBI8M.  207 

Shiphird,  O  the  ugly  sumph !  The  doctrine  was  an  outrage  on 
human  nature,  and  an  insult  to  Divine  Providence !  Would  a 
kintra  be  the  better  if  a'  its  clergy  were  non-resident  in  it, — absentees 
abroad, — and  their  duties  discharged  universally  by  proxy  curates  1 
Likewise  a'  its  Judges  ?  Likewise  if  a^  partners  in  mercantile  con- 
cerns were  to  leave  them  to  the  foreman,  and  gang  ower  to  Bou- 
logne tc  play  billiards  ?  And,  to  crown  a',  would  the  sumph  say, 
that  it  ^  ould  be  better  for  The  Magazine,  if  its  Editor, — even  your- 
sell,  sir,  Christopher  North,  God  bless  you  ! — were  an  absentee  ? 
Na,  na !  that  you'll  never  be.  Easier  would  it  be  to  root  up  an 
auld  oak  tree. 

North,  A  blind,  base  blunder  it  was,  indeed,  James ;  and  how 
the  owl  did  hoot  in  the  sunshine,  staring  and  winking  most  absurdly, 
with  eyes  made  only  for  the  twilight!  What  books  could  nhe 
sumph,  as  you  call  him,  have  read  I  With  what  manner  of  men 
held  converse? — that  his  ear  had  not  got  accustomed,  in  some 
measure,  to  the  expression  of  those  natural  feelings  and  affections, 
that  bind  the  human  heart  to  the  natale  sohtm, — feelings  and  affec- 
tions so  inevitable,  that  he  is  probably  the  first,  and  will  be  the  last 
man,  that  ever  avowed  himself  born  without  them, — ^insensible  to 
their  influence,  or,  rather,  unaware  of  their  existence  ! 

Shepherd.  Better  for  a  kintra  that  a'  the  gentry  should  live 
abroad  !  O  the  sumph  !  But,  eh,  sir  !  is  na't  oheerin'  to  see  and 
hear  how  suddenly  a  sumph's  put  down  in  Great  Britain,  when,  wi' 
open  jaws  and  lung-laboring  sides,  he  sticks  out  his  )ang-lugged 
pericranium,  and,  reckless  q'  breakin*  the  wund  o*  the  puir  harmles9 
echoes,  brays  out  insupportable  nonsense,  a'  the  while  never  dootin^ 
himsell  to  be  ane  o'  the  great  prophets,  lifting  up  a  warning,  as  in 
an  angelic  voice,  unto  some  foolish  people  determined  to  perish  in 
their  pride — were  the  ass  to  bray  on  till  Domesday  ? 

North,  Yes,  James,  the  British  nation  are  not,  in  the  long  run,  by 
any  means  easily  humbugged.  They  have  their  temporary  follies 
— why  not  ?  The  proprietor  of  "  the  wonderful  duck,"  may  make 
money  for  a  month  or  so,  asserting  that  she  sings  like  a  nightin- 
gale;  but  people  will  not  pay  sixpence  twice  to  hear  what,  if  their 
ears  *^  are  to  be  in  aught  believed,"  is  neither  more  nor  less,  in  tone 
or  articulation,  than — quack — quack— quack  !  Then,  what  a  dis- 
grace, what  a  degradation  to  Ireland — the  land  of  eloquence  and 
Burke,  to  have  produced,  in  these  latter  days,  no  better  demagogues 
than  Shell  and  O'CJonnell !  Scrape  O'ConnelFs  tongue  of  black- 
guardism, and  Sheirs  of  blarney,  and  they  will  be  as  dry  as  that  of 
an  old  parrot. 

Shepherd,  Vm  sure  that  Shell's  nae  orator.  Puttin'  politics,  and 
peace  o*  Ireland,  and  the  cause  o*  civil  and  religious  liberty  a*  ower 


Digitized  by 


Google 


208  NOCTES   AMBBOSIAN^. 

the  world,  a'thegither  aside — and   ane  can  easily  do  that  in  the 
Noctes 

Norih,,  With  all  the  ease  in  the  world,  James. 

Shepherd,  I  mysell  am  an  agitawtor !  And  not  only  can  I  mak  a' 
allowance  for  them,  but  as  ae  human  being  wi*  ither  human  beings, 
I  can  sympatheeze,  sir,  frae  the  very  bottom  o'  my  sowl,  wi'  agi- 
tawtors. 

North.  And  so  can  I. 

Tickler,  {yawning.)  And — I. 

Shepherd.  Dear  me,  Mr.  Tickler!  are  you  no  asleep?  But,  pity 
me  the  day  !  when  I  tak  up  a  speech  o'  Sheil's,  houpin'  to  get  my 
heart  made  to  loup  like  a  cod  in  a  creel ;  to  be  stung  by  his  sharp 
swarming  syllables  into  rebellion  against  the  state,  like  a  colley 
attacked  by  bees,  and  in  the  madness  o^  pain  bitin'  his  master ;  or 
rather,  like  a  bull  stung  by  a  hornet  in  the  flank,  or  a  red-rag  in  the 
ee,  plungin'  after  the  herds  and  hinds,  wha  a*  rin  helter-skelter  into, 
the  woods — or,  like  a  teeger,  or  a  lion,  that  has  lain  peaceably  lick- 
ing his  paws,  till  a  man  in  a  hairy  fur-cap,  stirs  him  up  with  a  long 
pole,  and  gars  him  roar  as  if  about  to  carry  afifin  his  mouth  the  son 
o'  Sir  George  Monro  across  his  shoother — or  like  an  elephant 
that  — 

North,  Stop,  James — stop,  for  Heaven's  sake,  stop ! 

Shepherd,  Or  like  a  whale  that 

North.  Stop,  James— stop,  for  Heaven's  sake,  stop! 

Shepherd,  Weel,  then,  I  will  stop.  When,  instead  o'  ony  thing 
o'  that  sort,  ae  pert,  pratin'  fribble  o'  a  coxcomb  o'  a  Cockney  o'  a 
paragraph  follows  after  anither,  a'  as  like's  they  can  smirk  or  stare, 
brither  on  brither  o'  the  same  conceited  family,  wi'  faces  and  voices 
no  to  be  distinguished,  were  it  no  that  ane  seems  to  be  greetin'  and 
ane  to  be  lauchin*,  and  ane  to  be  troubled  wi'  a  sair  cough,  and  ane 
to  hae  the  colic,  and  ane  to  be  dressed  as  for  a  bridal,  and  ane  for  a 
funeral — ane  wi'  a  sodger's  green  coat,  and  ane  apparelled  in  brown 
like  a  Quaker — yet  a'  the  hail  set  equally  cauldrife,  formal,  pedan- 
tical,  and  pragmatic, — and  what's  waurst  than  a*,  and  damnation  to 
the  soul  o*  oratory,  when  I  see  hypocrisy,  meanness,  trucklinj?  insin- 
cerity, cruelty,  and  what's  akin  to  cruelty,  political  cowardice, 
staining  all  the  pairts  o'  speech — so  that  when  a'  the  paragraphs 
have  passed  aff  and  awa,  and  the  orawtion  is  closed,  you  know  by 
a  feeling  no  to  be  mistaken  nor  mistrusted,  that  Shell  is  after  a'  only 
a  playactor,  sir,  who  has  taken  to  the  stage  by  chance,  idleness,  or 
impidence,  but  whom  natur  has  barely  fitted  to  perform  even  the 
maist  inferior  and  subordinate  characters,  either  in  farce  or  tragedy  ;• 

*  Bheil  'vras  not  an  orator  to  rouso  and  agitate  a  nation ;  O'Conneli  was.  Slieil,  it  w§» 
kuovrn,  elaborately  oompoted  hia  ipeeches ;  U^Connell'e  were  extemporaneons.  I  can  not  ade- 
quately conyer  the  contempt  which,  in  Ireland,  falls  upon  an  oration  that  ic  cut-and-dry 
before-hand.    No  oratory  ii  thought  -well  in  Ireland,  vrhich  is  not  really  and  truly  product^ 


Digitized  by 


Google 


IBIBH  OSATOBT.  209 

although  on  the  total  eclipse  of  that  sort  of  dramatic  talent  amang 
the  Roman  Catholics  o'  Eerland,  he  plays  Captain  Rock  himself 
even  as  in  the  submarine  warld,  in  the  dearth  o'  theatrical  talent 
among  the  oetawceous  tribe,  ane  micht  imagine  a  shrimp,  to  the 
astonishment  of  all  other  fishes,  acting  a  whale,  '*  wallowing 
unwieldy  enormous  in  his  gait,"  from  a  quarter  to  half  an  inch 
long. 

North.  Charles  Phillips  was  worth  a  gross  of  Sheils.  There 
were  frequent  flashes  of  fine  imagination,  and  strains  of  genuine 
feeling  in  his  speeches,  that  showed  Nature  intended  him  for  an 
orator.  In  the  midst  of  his  most  tedious  and  tasteless  exaggera- 
tions, you  still  felt  that  Charles  Phillips  had  a  heart;  that  he  was  a 
fine,  bold,  open,  generous  Irishman,  in  whom,  more  especially  in 
youth  and  early  manhood,  you  are  delighted  with  a  strong  dash  of 
folly — and  who  is  entitled,  in  seasons  of  real  or  pretended  passion^ 
to  avail  himself  of  the  privilege  of  his  birth,  to  the  very  verge  of 
madness,  without  being  thought  in  the  least  insane — while  in  his 
more  felicitous  efibrt«i,  he  rose  fairly  into  the  regions  of  eloquence, 
and  remained  there  on  unwearied  wing,  either  like  a  Glead  on  poise, 
or  a  Peregrine  in  pursuit,  sufficiently  long  and  light  to  prove  the 
strength  of  hispinion,  and  the  purity  of  his  breed. 

Shepherd.  What's  laecome  o'  Chairley  Phullups  ? 

North.  In  good  practice  at  the  English  bar,  James — and  at  the 
Old  Bailey,  making  a  fair  strussle  even  with  Adolphus*,  who  is  one 
of  the  cleverest  and  acutest  men  I  ever  heard  conduct  a  cross-exami- 
nation, or  address  a  jury. 

Shepherd.  Ym.  glad  o'  that,  sir.  The  lad  was  rather  flowery  ;  but 
he  pu'd  the  flowers  for  himsell,  frae  the  spots  where  nature  bade 

hy  and  to  the  oeeaaioa.  To  this  honr,  though  fiye-and -twenty  ye&n  abeent  from  Ireland,  I 
rally  retain  this  feeling.  There  is  one  thing  eren  more  contemptible— namely,  to  be  bored, 
by  the  orator,  with  snatches  of  his  h&rangne,  the  deliTery  of  which  you  had  the  good  fortnne 
to  escape.  A  good  speech  should  be  remembered  and  (quoted  by  all~saTe  him  who  extempora^ 
neously  made  it  By  the  way,  a  man  with  a  prepared  speech  unfairly  contends  with  him  who 
speaks  on  the  moment.  For  in  one  case  there  has  been  leisure  for  deliberate  thought,  while 
in  the  other  there  is  none.  But  the  effect  is  different.  While  one  may  please  oultiTated 
minds,  and,  when  published,  delight  in  the  closet— as  a  composition  ;  the  other  will  probably 
stir  the  heart  of  a  nation.  Such  was  the  difference  betireen  the  oratory  of  Shell  and  O'Goa- 
neU.— M. 

*  Charles  Phillips  was  called  to  the  Irish  bar  in  1819,  where  his  rery  flowery  style  of  oratory, 
ehiefly  exercised  in  Crim-Coa  and  breach-of-promise-of-manriage  cases,  gained  him  many 
admirers.  In  1817  he  collected  his  forensic  ana  political  speeches,  and  the  ^warterly  Rtvino^ 
(and.  I  think,  the  Edinburgh j  also,)  so  severely  criticised  his  florid  style,  that  he  was  nearly  as 
mucn  laughed  at,  at  last,  as  he  had  formerly  been  admired.  After  he  went  to  the  English 
bar  in  1810,  he  had  to  abandon  bis  peculiar  style,  and  speak  the  plain  languure  of  common 
sense.  He  obtained  a  good  share  of  Old  Bailey  {ot  criminal)  practice,  and,  in  1843  was  made  a 
Banlmaptcy  Judge.  A*  a  man  of  letters,  he  will  be  faToraoly  recollected  by  his  delightful 
and  anecdotal  work  on  Cuiran  and  his  Cotemporaries. — John  Adolphus.  with  whom,  in  Old 
Bailey  practice,  Phillips  had  to  contend,  was  author  of  a  History  of  Sngland,  Memoir  of  John 
Bannister,  and  other  works— popular  in  their  day.  He  was  little  known  at  the  bar,  although 
always  fully  employed,  until  1830,  when  he  ably  defended  Arthur  Thistlewood.  and  the  rest 
«f  the  Cato-street  conspirators.  He  died  in  1845,  aged  soTenty-nine.  His  son,  John  Leyoester 
Adolphus,  who  is  also  a  barrister,  wrote  the  Letters  to  Richard  Heber  on  the  Authorship  of  the 
WaTorley  Norele,  which,  by  an  accumulation  of  eiitioat  eridenoe  such  as  no  sophistry  ooaki 
trade,  identified  Scott  m  '*The  Oteat  Unknown.'*— M. 

Vol.  III.— 15 


Digitized  by 


Google 


210  KOOTBS  AMBBOBILNM. 

them  grow — and  oh !  but  they  tell  me  Eerland's  a  flowery  kintra — 
and  didna  buy  them  in  shops  like  Sheil,  out  o'  green  wicker  baskets 
set  in  the  shade,  or  glass  bottles  wi'  sonie  water  in  them  to  enable 
the  pinks  and  puppies  for  a  few  hours  to  struggle  up  their  droopin' 
heads,  while  to  the  ee  o'  a  florist  they  are  visibly  faded  frae  the  very 
first — faded,  sir,  and  fusionless,  alike  destitute  o'  bloom  and  bawm, 
and  to  a'  intents  and  purposes,  either  o'  utility  or  ornament,  worth 
less  as  weeds. 

North.  When  a  sudden  strong  frost  succeeds  a  week's  wet,  James, 
icicles  make  really  a  pretty  show,  as  depending  from  slate  or 
thatch  eaves  of  cot  or  palace,  they  glitter  in  the  sunlight,  with  some- 
thing even  of  the  lustre  of  the  rainbow.  The  eye  regards,  with  a 
sort  of  sensuous  pleasure,  the  fantastic  and  fairy  frostwork.  But  it 
soon  is  satisfied  with  the  peg-like  display  of  prisms — for  even  to  the 
sense  of  sight  they  are  cold,  James — cold — we  blow  our  fingers — 
on  with  our  gloves — and  leave  the  icicles  to  the  admiration  of 
schoolboys,  who  regard  with  open  mouths  and  uplifled  hands  the 
raree-show — but  who  soon  pass  by  unheeding  when  familiar  with 
the  dripping  brotherhood,  as  they  melt  away  beneath  the  meridian 
heat  into  the  common  mire  of  the  street.  Shell's  speeches  are  as 
formal  and  as  cold  as  any  long  low  level  eaves  of  icicles — and  can 
any  other  quality,  James,  supposing  it  to  be  there,  compensate  for 
frigidity  ? 

Shepherd,  Neither  man  nor  woman  can  thole  frigidity.  It's  the 
death  o'  every  thing,  either  dangerous  or  delightfu' — and  then,  be- 
cause in  his  case  it's  sae  totally  unexpected — it  strikes  a  chill  into 
the  marrow  o'  the  back-bane — com  in'  either  frae  the  haun'  or  the 
tongue  o'  an  Eerishman. 

North,  Mr.  Sheil  is  a  man  of  education — and  something,  though 
not  much,  of  a  scholar.     You  have  read  his  plays  ? 

Shepherd.  No  me.     Are  they  tragedies,  comedies,  or  farces  ? 

North,  A  sort  of  unintended  mixture  of  the  three,  James.  Occa- 
sionally rather  elegant 

Shepherd,  Rather  elegant !  Oh,  sir,  that's  damnation  to  a  drama ! 
Pity  me  the  day  !  An  elegant  tragedy  !  Yet  aiblins  no  sae  very 
elegant  either,  if  we  tak  a  critical  look  at  it 

North,  Perhaps  not,  James. 

Shepherd,  Just  as  my  leddy's  waitin'  maid,  or  my  leddy's  milli- 
ner, whom  you  hae  mista'en,  at  a  hasty  glance,  for  my  leddy  her- 
sell,  is  sune  seen  and  heard  thro',  when  you  begin  to  flirt  wi'  her  on 
the  ootside  o'  a  cotch  ? 

North,  The  outside  of  a  coach,  James. 

Shephsrd,  Yes,  the  outside  o'  a  cotch,  Kit.  For  she's  aye  sae 
fashous  in  pu'in'  her  petticoats  ower  her  coots,  though  you're  ho 
tookin'  at  them ;  and  aye  drawin'  her  shawl  across  her  breist,  or 


Digitized  by 


Google 


8HBIL.  211 

rather  wushin*  you  to  do  that  for  her,  though  there's  neither  cauld 
nor  wund ;  and  instead  o'  lookin'  straight  forrit,  aye  leerin'  unao- 
coontably  frae  aneath  her  curls  to  the  tae  side — and  every  noo  and 
then  pretendin'  to  be  frichtened  when  ane  o*  the  blin'  leaders  gies  a 
start  or  a  stumble,  that  she  may  press  her  shoother  at  the  least 
again'  yours — and  then  when  she  does  ventur  to  begin  to  speak, 
keepin'  at  it  tongue  and  nail,  up  hill  and  doon  hill,  the  hail  fifteen- 
mile-stage,  wi'  an  h  afore  every  vooel  to  help  it  out,  and  makin'  use 
o'  the  maist  comicallest  words  that  are  no  even  provincialisms,  but 
peculiar  to  peculiar  butlers  in  peculiar  servants'  ha's ;  sae  that  you're 
sair  bamboozled  to  form  a  conjecture  o'  her  meanin,'  and  out  o'  pure 
gude  breedin'  are  under  the  necessity,  the  first  owershadowin'  tree 
you  come  to  on  the  road,  to  loot  doon  aneath  her  bannet  and  gie  her 
a  kiss. 

North,  And  that  somewhat  amatory  description  of  a  would-be 
lady,  you  conceive,  James,  to  answer,  at  the  same  time,  for  a  criti- 
cal dissertation  on  the  dramatic  genius  of  Mr.  Sheil  ? 

Shepherd,  I  leave  you  to  judge  o'  that,  sir.  The  pictur's  drawn 
frae  natur  and  experience — but  it's  for  you  and  ithers  to  mak  the 
application,  for  I  ne'er  read  a  verse  o*  Mr.  SheiFs  in  my  life — and 
after  yon  beastly  abuse,  in  a  speech  o'  his  that  has  long  been  dead 
and  stinkin',  o*  the  late  gude  and  gracious  Duke  of  York,*  whom  all 
Britain  loved — gude  God  !  in  the  last  stage  o'  a  dropsy !  and  a' 
Eerland  loved  too,  savin'  and  eccepin'  the  disgustin'  imp  himsell — 
confoond  me  gin  1  ever  wull,  though  it  were  to  save  his  neck  frae 
the  gallows. 

North,  With  that  sentiment,  my  dear  Shepherd,  all  mankind  will 
sympathize.     Yet  it  was  no  outrage  on  the  dying  Duke. 

Shepherd,  What? 

North,  Sheil,  as  he  uttered  those  foul  execrations,  was  simply  in 
the  condition  of  a  drunken  street-blackguard,  who,  in  attempting  to 
spit  in  the  face  of  some  sickly  gentleman  well  stricken  in  years, 
grew  so  sick  with  blue  ruin  as  to  spew — while  a  sudden  blast  of 
wind  from  an  opposite  direction  blew  the  filth  back  with  a  blash  all 
over  his  own  ferocious  physiognomy,  forcing  the  self-punished  brute, 
amidst  the  hootings  of  the  half-mirthful,  half-abhorring  mob,  to  stoop 
staggering  over  the  gutter,  and,  in  strong  convulsions,  to  empty  his 
stomach  into  the  common  sewer. 

Shepherd.  Ma  faith !  you  tawk  o'  my  Strang  language  ?  What's 
a'  the  coorse  things  I  ever  said  at  the  Noctes  Ambrosianffi  puttin' 
thegither  in  comparison  wi*  that  ? 

North,  Far  too  mild,  James.     Let  him  or  her  who  thinks  other- 

*  The  Bake  of  York,  the  publiolr  sworn  foe  of  Catholio  Emancipation,  died  early  in  1887, 
and,  daring  his  last  illness^  Sheil  had  mode  a  pnblio  speech,  in  which  tnere  was  an  expres- 
sion of  something  not  rerr  unlike  exaltation  at  his  anticipated  exit.  Nothing  oouid  bave 
been  in  worse  taete,  and  Snail  repented  it  erer  after.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


212  voorss  jjcbbosiak^ 

wise  fling  Maga  into  the  fire — from  the  arms  of  "  the  rude  and  bois- 
terous North/'  fly  into  those  of  the  sweet  and  simpering  Sheil — for 
'*  rude  am  I  in  speech,  and  little  graced  with  the  set  phrase  of  peace," 
iron  would  not  melt  in  mj  mouth  nor  butter  in  his — ^yes,  he  is  as 
mealy-mouthed  on  occasion  as  a  flour  sack  in  autumn — ^as  honey- 
lipped  as  a  bee-hive  in  spring.  Yet  hearken  to  me,  James.  His 
potato-trap — to  borrow  a  good  vulgarism  of  his  own  country,  is 
liker  the  hole  of  a  wasp's  nest,  when  in  the  heat  of  the  dog-days  all 
the  angry  insects  are  aswarm,  all  at  work,  heaven  only  knows 
exactly  at  what,  but  manifestly  bent  on  mischief,  and  ready  to  bury 
themselves  with  a  bizz  in  the  hair  of  your  head,  or  to  sting  out  your 
eyes  lost  in  a  blue-swelling,  if  you  so  much  as  look  at  them  as  the 
yellow  Shanavests  are  robbing  the  hives  of  the  beautiful  industrious 
Orangemen,  the  bees — aye,  just  as  the  Catholic  crew  would,  if  they 
dared,  rob  the  domiciles  of  the  Protestants,  upset  if  they  could^ 
James,  the  great  hives  of  national  industry,  and  — 

Sheplurd,  Murder  a'  the  Queen  Bees.    There's  a  cleemax ! 

North.  Do  they,  or  do  they  not,  seek  the  destruction  of  the  Pro- 
testant Established  Church  in  Ireland  f 

Shepherd.  Leears,  as  most  o'  the  Roman  leaders  are,  they  some- 
times speak  the  truth — and  I  believe  them  when  they  say,  as  they 
have  said  a  thousand  times  coram  poptUo^  that  that  will  be  the  most 
glorious,  the  most  blessed  day  for  Ireland,  which  sees  that  church 
razed  to  its  foundation-stane,  and  hears  the  huzzas  o'  the  seven  mil- 
lions mixed  wi'  the  dusty  thunder  o'  its  overthrow. 

North,  Let  all  Protestants,  therefore,  who  hope  to  hear  the  echoes 
of  that  consummation,  vote  for  Catholic  emancipation.  Let  all  Pro- 
testants who  venerate  the  holy  altar  of  the  Living  Temple  resist 
Catholic  emancipation,  even  to  the  death  !  though  to  avert  that 
calamity,  they  once  more  must  see  the  green  shamrock — God  bless 
it — blush  red — and  for  a  season  trodden  with  pain  under  patrioUo 
feet,  torn  from  the  foreheads  of  traitors  and  rebels. 

Shepherd.  What !  mercy  on  us !  ye're  for  fechtin' — are  ye,  sir  1 

North,  No,  James,  I  am  for  peace ;  but  though  blustering  and 
bullying  may  for  a  long  time  be  despised,  yet  when  ruffians  shake 
their  fists  or  flourish  their  shillelahs  in  your  face,  or  begin  sharpening 
their  pikes,  James — then  it  is  time  to  point  with  your  hand  to  your 
sword — so,  James — so— to  recite  with  the  alteration  of  one  word 
those  lines  of  Milton — 

*  Hs  SPOKK— Ain>  TO  OONVIEM  BIS  WOEDS,  OOT  WLEW 
M1LUON8  or  FLAMINO  SWOEDf,  DBAWH  FBOM  THS  TBIOH 
Or  MiOBTT   PAOTESTAinsr 

Shepherd,  Whaspak? 
North.  Wellington.* 

*  North's  •xpMtation  wm  defMtod  i»  two  meaUu  after  it  wm  pnblishod.    In  Fobnaarr, 
ISaO,  WelUafton  aad  Pool  aa»oa»oo4  Oatholio  Bmaaoipation  a*  a  OoTornmont  moararo.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


THB  IBISH  QUESTIOK.  213 

Shepherd,  Oh  !  do,  my  dear  sir,  I  beseech  you,  tell  me  what  can 
be  the  meanin',  in  a  case  like  this,  o'  — securities. 

North,  A  man  of  common  prudence,  James — ^a  man  who  was  not 
a  downright  absolute  born  idiot,  would  not  lend  five  pounds  on  such 
securities  as  are  talked  of  by  some  politicians  as  sufficient  to  lend 
upon  them  the  dearest  and  most  vital  rights  and  privileges  that  be- 
long to  us  as  ^  Protestants,  to  our  avowed  enemies  the  Catholics, 
whose  religious  duty  it  is — let  frightened  fools  deny  it,  and  get 
laughed  at  and  murdered  for  their  cowardly  falsehoods — to  over- 
throw Church  and  State.  For  we,  James,  the  prime  of  the  people 
of  England,  Scotland,  and  Ireland — that  is,  of  the  earth — areJIereiics 
— that  is,  we  love  the  Tree  of  Freedom  that  is  planted  on  earth,  be- 
cause it  is  a  scion  from  the  Tree  of  Life  that  grows  in  heaven  '*  fast 
by  the  Throne  of  God."  For  centuries  now  have  we  flourished  be- 
neath its  shade,  and  been  refreshed  with  its  fruitage.  But  had  the 
Roman  Catholics  sway,  the  axe  would  be  laid  to  its  root  — 

Shepherd,  Mony  a  thump  it  would  thole  afore  the  bark  even  was 
chipped  through  o*  the  gnarled  aik ;  for,  wi'  your  permission,  I  change 
the  eemage  frae  a  fruit  intil  a  forest  tree  ;  but  then,  sir,  as  you  weel 
ken,  the  bark's  — 

North.  Not  like  "  the  unfeeling  armor  of  old  Time  — " 

Shepherd,  Na,  sir,  but  like  the  very  hide  o'  a  man,  a  horse,  or  an 
elephant,  protectin*  the  beautifu'  and  fine  vein-machinery  through 
which  the  blood  or  the  sap  keeps  ebbing  and  flowing,  just  as  myste- 
riously as  the  tides  o'  the  great  sea.  For  my  ain  pairt,  1  hae  nae 
fears  that  a'  the  axes  o'  our  enemies,  lang-armed  and  roun'-shoother- 
ed  though  the  race  o'  Eerishers  be,  could  ever,  were  they  to  hack 
awa  for  ten  thousan'  years,  penetrate  through  the  outer  ring  o'  the 
flint-hard  wood,  far  less  lab  awa  into  the  heart  o'  the  michty  bole  o' 
the  tree  — 

North, —  ««  Like  a  cedar  on  the  top  of  LebanoD, 

Parkeniog  the  sea.** 

Shepherd,  Na,  na,  na.  For  there's  nae  saft  silly  sap  in  the  body 
o'  the  tremendous  auld  giant.  He's  a'  heart,  sir,  and  the  edges  o' 
their  axes  would  be  turned  as  if  strucken  against  granite. 

North,  True,  James — most  beautifully,  sublimely  true! 

Shepherd,  Yet  still  an  aik-tree  (be  thinkin'  o'  the  British  Constitu- 
tion, sir,)  though  o*  a'  things  that  grow,  wi'  roots  far  down  in  earth, 
and  branches  high  up  in  heaven,  the  maist  storm-lovin'  and  thunder- 
proof,  depends  for  its  verra  life  amaist  as  muckle  on  its  outer  rind  as 
on  its  inner  heart.  Tear  afl*  or  cut  through  the  rind,  and  the  bole 
festers  with  fungus's,  that,  like  verra  cancers,  keep  eatin',and  eatin', 
and  eatin',  day  and  nicht,  summer  and  winter,  into  the  n)ysteriou8 
principle  o'  leafy  life. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


214  NO0TE8   AMBBOSTAN^. 

North.  You  speak  like  a  man  inspired,  James. 

Shepherd.  Hae  na  ye  seen,  sir,  and  amaist  grat  in  the  solitude  to 
see,  some  noble  tree,  it  matters  not  whether  elm,  ash,  oraik,  staunin' 
sick  sick -like  in  the  forest — why  or  wherefore  ye  canna  weel  tell — for 
a'  roun'  the  black  deep  soil  is  pervious  to  the  rains  and  dews,  and  a 
great  river  gangs  sweepin'  by  its  roots,  gently  waterin'  them  when 
it  rins  laigh,  and  dashin'  drumly  yards  up  the  banks  when  it^s  in 
spate,  and  yet  the  constitution  o'  the  tree,  sir,  is  gane — ^ts  big  branches 
a  tattery  wi'  unhealthfu*  moss,  and  its  wee  anes  a'  frush  as  saugh- 
wands,  and  tryin'  in  vain  to  shoot  out  their  buds  unto  the  spring — 
so  the  hawk  or  heron  builds  there  nae  mair — and  you  are  willing, 
rather  than  the  monarch  o'  the  wood  should  thus  dee  o'  con- 
sumption, that  axes  should  be  laid  to  his  root,  and  pulleys  fastened 
to  his  bole  and  branches,  to  rug  him  doon  out  o'  that  lang  slaw  linger 
o'  dwining  death,  till  at  last,  wi'  ae  crash  no  unworthy  o'  him,  doon 
he  conies,  owerwhelming  hunders  o'  sma'  saplins,  and  inferior  stan- 
nards,  and  alarmin'  distant  vales  wi'  the  unaccountable  thunder  o' 
his  fa\  no  the  less  awfu'  because  lang  expecket,  and  leavin'  a  gap 
that'ill  no  be  filled  up  for  centuries,  perhaps  never  while  the  earth  is 
the  earth,  and  wi'  a'  its  ither  trees  gangs  circlin'  round  the  sun,  who 
misses,  as  niest  morning  he  rises  in  the  east,  the  lang-illumined 
Glory. 

North.  Better  and  better  still,  my  dear  James.  The  bold,  bluff, 
sea-breeze-bronzed  men  of  Kent,*  James,  how  their  strong  lungs 
must  have  crowed  within  their  broad  bosoms,  to  see  Shell  attempt- 
ing to  introduce  on  that  stage  the  principal  part  in  the  &rce  of  the 
Fantoccini ! 

Shepherd.  Oh  !  the  puppy  ! — Oh  !  the  puppet ! 

North.  A  great  soul  in  a  small  body — and  I  know  some  such — is 
a  noble — yes,  a  noble  spectacle  !  for  there  mind  triumphs  over  mat- 
ter, or,  rather,  dilates  the  diminutive  form  into  kindred  majesty  ;  or, 
what  is  most  likely,  the  shape  is  sunk,  and  we  see,  while  we  hear, 
only  the  soul. 

Shepherd.  That's  as  true  a  word's  ever  was  spoken,  sir.     As  rea- 

*  In  October,  1^28,  a  freat  Anti-Catholio  meetins:  of  the  freeholders  of  Kent  wae  held  at 
Penenden  Heath,  in  that  coantj.    A  freehold  was  given  to  Mr.  Shell,  to  qualify  him  to  take 

f»art  in  the  proceedings.  He  composed  a  brilliant  oration,  which  was  pat  into  type,  before  he 
eft  London,  for  appearance  in  The  Sun  newspaper  of  that  erening.  The  meeting  was 
stormy  and  boisterous— Cobbett  and  Hunt  attending  and  speaking  against  the  Protestant  party 
— and  Mr.  Sheil,  vainly  attempting  to  be  heard,  actually  spoke  only  one  sentence  of  his  i,peech. 
That^  however,  to  the  extent  of  several  columns,  was  duly  published  in  The  Skr,  and  found 
numerous  readers  and  admirers.  That  evening  Mr  Sheil  supped  at  the  5tni  office,  with  Mr. 
Murdo  Young,  the  proprietor,  (I  was  of  the  party.)  and  he  gave  us  a  most  amusing  description  of 
the  day's  proceeding*— turning  every  thing  into  ridicule — and  charming  us  much.  The 
account  of  the  Fenonden  Heath  Meeting,  which  he  afterwards  wrote  for  the  JWto  Monthly 
Magaiine^  (and  which  I  have  preserved  in  his  Sketches  of  the  Irish  Bar.)  was  not  half  so  gra- 
phic as  his  vivd  voce  narrative  over  the  supper-tible.  I  recollect  that  he  announced  as  a  cer- 
taintf,  that  Catholio  Emancipation  was  on  the  eve  of  being  granted.  This  was  more  than 
three  months  before  the  public  received  any  intimation  of  Wellington's  intentions  on  that 
score. — M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


8HEIL.  215 

sonably  admire  a  great,  big,  hulkin'  fallow  wi'  a  wee  sow],  as  think 
o'  undervaluin'  a  man  wi*  a  wee,  neat  body — or  even  if  it's  no  neat 
— wi'  a  sowl  fit  for  a  giant.  Never  mind  the  size  o'  a  man.  Let 
him,  on  risin'  to  speak,  tak  the  advantage  o'  a  stool  sae  that  his 
head  be  on  a  level  wi'  the  lave,  and  when  the  fire  o'  genius  flashes 
frae  his  een,  and  the  flood  o'  eloquence  frae  his  lips,  a'  the  waves  o' 
that  livin'  sea  will  be  charmed  into  a  cawm  ;  and  when  he  ceases 
speakin',  and  jumpin'  afl*  the  stool,  disappears,  that  livin'  sea  will 
hail  him  wi'  its  thunder,  like  fifly  thousan'  billows,  at  full  tide, 
breakin'  against  the  beach. 

North.  Admirable,  my  dear  James,  admirable !  But  here  was  a 
puppet  indeed !  jerking  legs  and  arms,  and  contorting  nose  and 
mouth,  as  if  to  a  string,  managed  by  Punch,  or  Punch's  wife,  beneath 
the  platform. 

Shepherd,  Sputterin'  out  amang  shoots  and  shrieks  o'  involuntary 
lauchter — for  man's  by  nature  a  lauchin'  animal,  and  that  distin- 
guishes him  frae  a*  the  beasts,  no  ecceppin'  the  lauchin'  hyena,  who 
after  a'  only  grunts — sentences  o'  a  speech,  written  a  fortnight  afore 
in  Eerland ! 

North,  Something  inexpressibly  ludicrous  in  the  whole  concern 
from  beginning  to  end,  James.  The  farewell  to  his  native  shores — 
the  passage  to  Liverpool  by  steam — his  approach  in  the  mail  to- 
wards London,  of  which  that  mighty  metropolis  lay,  with  all  its 
millions,  unconscious  and  unaware ;  and  finally,  the  irresistible  ap- 
pearance of  the  ape  in  a  cart  on  the  Heath,  with  his  mows  and  grins, 
and  strangely  accented  chatter,  so  different  from  that  of  the  same 
species  in  the  Tower  or  Exeter  'Change  ;*  the  rage  of  the  animal  on 
being  what  is  absurdly  called  insulted,  that  is,  treated  in  one  univer- 
sal and  varied  roar,  with  the  tribute  felt  by  sixty — or  say  thirty 
thousand  Englishmen — to  be  due  to  one  small  Paddy,  self  elected 
representative  of  the  seven  millions,  and  whom  any  Jack  Tibbutts  of 
a  Kent  yeoman  could  have  put  into  his  breeches- pocket,  where  the 
little  orator,  like  the  caterwauling  voice  of  a  ventriloquist  suddenly 
thrown  into  your  apparel,  would  have  delivered  a  speech  just  as  like 
the  one  he  did  from  the  cart,  as  its  report  in  the  Sun  newspaper. 

Shepherd,  Haw— haw — ^haw !  about  midnight,  sir,  you  begin  to 
open  out  granly,  and  to  wax  wondrous  comical.  But  what  say  ye 
to  O'Connell  1 

North,  Dan,  again,  James 

AmJyrose^  {entering  with  his  suavest  physiognomy,)  Beg  pardon,  Mr. 
North,  for  venturing  in  unrung,  but  there's  a  young  lady  wishing  to 
speak  with  you 

*  The  collection  of  wild  beasti  once  kept  and  exhibited  in  the  Tower  of  London,  h«s  Ions 
■inee  been  broken  np.  Bfr.  CroM  had  a  menagerie  in  Exeter  'Change,  in  the  8tr  md,  whioa 
was  remoTed  when  tnat  building  was  taken  down  for  re-«on«traotion. — M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


216  NOCTES   AMBBOSIANJL 

Shepherd,  A  young  Jady  !  show  her  ben. 

North,  An  anonymous  article  ? 

Ambrose.  No,  sir, — Miss  Helen  Sandford,  from  the  Lodge. 

North,  Helen  !  what  does  she  want  I 

Ambrose,  Miss  Sandford  haa  got  alarmed,  sir . 

SJtepherd,  Safe  us !  only  look  at  the  time-piece !  Four  o'clock 
in  the  mornin' ! 

Ambrose.  And  has  walked  up  from  the  Lodge  — 

North.  What?     Alone! 

Ambrose.  No,  sir.  Her  father  is  with  her — and  she  bids  me  say 
now  that  she  knows  her  master  is  well— that  here  is  your  Kilmar- 
nock  nightcap. 

(Mr.  North  submits  his  head  to  Pieardy^  who  adjusts  the 
nightcap.) 

Shepherd.  What  a  cowl ! 

North,  A  capote,  James.  Mr.  Ambrose,  we  three  must  sleep 
here  all  night. 

Shepherd.  A*  mornin*,  ye  mean.  Tak'  care  o'  Tickler  amang  ye 
— but  recollect  it's  no  safe  to  wauken  sleepin'  dowgs.  Oh,  man  ! 
Mr.  North  !  sir !  but  that  was  touchin'  attention  in  puir  Eelen. 
She's  like  a  dochter,  indeed.  Come  awa',  you  auld  vagabon',  to 
your  bed.  I'll  kick  open  the  door  o'  your  dormitory  wi'  my  fit,  as 
I  pass  alang  the  trans  in  the  mornin*.  The  mornin' !  Faith  I'm 
beginnin'  already  to  get  hungry  for  breakfast  I  Come  awa,  you 
auld  vagabon' — come  awa. 

{£xeunt  North  and  Shepherd,  followed  by  the  Height  of 
Tickler,  to  roost,) 

Norfhy  {singing  as  they  go,) 

**  Early  to  bed,  and  early  to  rise, 
la  the  way  to  be  healthy,  wealthy,  and  wise !" 

Da  Capo, 


Digitized  by 


Google 


TONOS     ACOOMPAimCBNT.  217 


No.  XLL— MARCH,  1829. 

SCGBNE  I. — The  Snuggery.    North^Ticklbr.    Time — Mne  in  the 

Evening, 

Tickler.  I  paid  a  visit  to-day,  North,  to  a  family  which  has  some- 
thing extraordinary  in  its  constitution. 

N&rth.  Ay? 

Tickler.  The  lady  of  the  house  has  been  married  four  times,  and 
the  gentleman  of  the  house  four  times ;  and,  as  all  the  seven  mar- 
riages have  been  productive,  you  may  conjecture  the  general  cha- 
racter of  the  interior. 

North.  What  may  be  the  population  ? 

Tickler.  Not  so  immense  as  various.  I  should  not  think  it 
exceeds  a  score,  from  what  I  saw  and  heard,  but  it  is  most  diver- 
sified. 

North.  Patchwork. 

Tickler.  The  lady's  first  husband  was  a  Cockney,  and  there  are 
twins  as  like  as  peas,  which  is  indeed  the  only  description  of  which 
they  are  susceptible.  Her  second,  of  course,  was  an  Irishman,  to 
whom  she  bore  a  couple  of  semi-Catholic  cubs — both  boys — bullet- 
headed,  and  with  faces  like — you  have  seen  him,  I  believe— that  of 
Burke,  the  murderer,  with  grim,  but  not  ferocious  expression,  deci- 
sive mouth,  and  determined  eyes  and  brows,  which,  though  rather 
agreeable  over  a  glass,  yet,  when  frowning  in  an  angry  parle,  or  a 
throttling  match,  must  have  been  far  from  pleasant.  These  pro- 
mising youths  are  at  present  assistants  to  Dr.  Knox.  Caroline 
then  married  a  Highland  clergyman — very  far  north — and  of  that 
connection  the  fruit  was  three  heather-legged  animals,  apparently 
of  the  female  sex — hair  not  absolutely  red,  but  foxy — fairnetickled 
cheeks — eyes  of  the  color  of  "three  times  skimmed  sky-blue" 
milk — papa's  buck  teeth — what  seems  very  unaccountable,  hair- 
lipped  all ;  and,  though  their  mamma  asserted,  smilingly,  that  they 
were  fine  growing  girls,  of  such  a  set  shape,  that  I  venture  to 
affirm,  that  for  the  two  last  years  they  have  grown  about  as  much 
as  the  leg  of  that  table.  They  have,  however,  I  was  given  to 
understand,  finished  their  education,  and  one  of  them  had  very 
nearly  played  us  a  tune  on  the  piano.  To  her  present  lord  and 
master,  my  friend,  with  whom  I  was  in  love  a  quarter  of  a  century 


Digitized  by 


Google 


218  NOCTES  AKBBOBIAHJC. 

ago,  has  presented  four  productions,  of  which  the  one  in  flounced 
trow&ers,  with  enormous  feet  and  legs,  is  said  to  be  a  girl,  and  the 
three  in  fancy  kilts — in  compliment,  I  suppose,  to  the  father  of 
the  other  brood — boys,  but  so  wishy-washy,  that  their  sex  seems 
problematical. 

North.  What  is  the  total  of  the  whole  ? 

Tickler,  Eleven — by  that  side  of  the  house — in  Cockneys,  Irish, 
and  Highlanders  half-and-half— and  in  Lowlanders  entire. 

North.  By  the  other  side  of  the  house  ? 

Tickler.  One  Dutch  girl  bom  at  the  Cape — very  round,  and 
rather  pretty^-down-looking,  and  on  the  eve  of  marriage — two  tall 
and  not  inelegant  creatures,  seemingly  Chinese,  but  in  fact  by  the 
mother's  side  Hindoos — and  four  mulattoes,  of  which  two  boys, 
would  look  well  in  livery,  with  a  cockade  in  their  hats  as  captain's 
servants — and  two,  girls,  would  be  producible  on  wagons  in  the  rear 
of  a  marching  regiment.  It  being  a  coarse  day,  the  whole  family 
were  at  home,  sitting  on  chait*s,  and  sofas,  and  stools,  and  the  carpet, 
and  what  not ;  and  I  must  say,  I  never  saw.  North,  a  set  of  more 
contented  creatures,  or  a  richer  set  of  connubial  felicity  in  all  my 
life. 

N<yrth.  Richt 

Tickler.  Their  income  is  under  three  hundred  a-year,  and  at  this 
hour  they  don't  owe  twenty  pounds. 

North.  You  must  bring  the  Captain,  honest  fellow,  to  the  next 
Noctes.  By-the-by,  Tickler,  we  must  rescind  that  resolution  by 
which  strangers  are  excluded  from  the  Noctes. 

Tickler.  Let  us  wait  till  the  Fiftieth  Noctes — to  speak  grammati- 
cally, and  then  we  shall  celebrate  a  Jubilee. 

North.  Be  it  so.  The  Noctes  shall  endure  till  all  eternity ;  and 
as  soon  as  the  Millennium  comes,  we  shall  bring  down  by  special 
retainer,  Edward  Irving. 

Tickler.  {After  a  long  pause) — Come,  North,  none  of  your  fits  of 
absence.     Where  were  you  just  now  % 

North.  Meditating  on  my  many  infirmities. 

Tickler.  Lay  your  hand  on  your  heart,  North,  and  tell  me  truly 
what  is  the  sin  that  most  easily  besets  you — ^while  I  keep  a  phreno- 
logical eye  on  your  development 

North.  Personal  vanity.     Night  and  day  do  I  struggle  against  it 
—but  all  in  vain — Tickler.     I  am  an  incorrigible  puppy. 

Tickler.  I  cannot  detiy  it. 

North.  My  happiness  is  in  the  hands  of  my  tailor.  In  a  perfectly 
well  cut  coat  and  faultless  pair  of  breeches,  I  am  in  heaven — a 
wrinkle  on  my  pantaloons  puts  me  into  a  purgatory — and  a  — 

Tickler.  Stop  ;  your  language  may  get  too  strong. 

North.  Many  a  leading  article  have  1  stuck,  by  attempting  it  tn 


Digitized  by 


Google 


PBR80KAL  yAKITT.  219 

tights  that  unduly  confined  the  play  of  muscle.  Last  year,  Scaife 
and  Willis  raised  the  sale  a  thousand,  bj  a  pair  that  were  perfect^ 
if  ever  there  were  a  pair  of  perfect  breeches  In  this  sublunary 
world. 

Tickler.  Yet  you  never  were  a  handsome  man,  Kit, — never  k 
Beau  Sabreur. 

North.  That  may  be  your  opinion,  sir ;  but  it  was  not  that  of  the 
world  during  the  last  quarter  of  the  eighteenth  century.  My  error 
never  lay  in  thinking  myself  a  fine  animal — for  that  I  certainly  was 
— but  in  feeling  inordinate  pleasure  and  pride  in  the  possession  of 
those  personal  endowments,  which,  alas !  proved  fatal  to  so  many 
of  the  most  amiable  of  the  sex  ;  and  in  beginning  too 

Tickler.  The  last  victim  of  dbappointed  passion  had  certainly 
white  teeth — but  she  was  a  lady  of  a  very  dark  complexion — her 
lips,  either  for  ornament  or  use,  were  to  my  taste  by  far  too  thick. 
Surely,  my  dear  North,  her  hair  was  strongly  disposed  to  be  woolly 
— and,  in  short,  pardon  me  for  saying  it,  she  had  the  universal  repu- 
tation of  being  positively,  intus  et  in  cute^  a  negress. 

North.  Pshaw !  But  do  you  remember  poor  Alpina  ? 

Tickler.  An  absolute  Albino. 

North.  These,  Tickler,  were  extreme  cases — but,  between  the 
negress  and  the  Albino,  what  infinite  varieties  of  female  loveliness 
had  to  lay  their  deaths  at  my  door ! 

Tickler.  I  much  doubt  if  any  one  single  woman  ever  ate  half  a 
pound  of  mutton  the  less  per  diem  on  your  account,  taking  the  aver- 
age of  her  year's  dinners. 

North.  Would  it  were  so !  But,  alas !  my  sleep  is  haunted  by 
the  ghosts 

Tickler.  Never  when  you  sleep  in  your  easy  chair.  North— else 
your  face  is  an  adept  in  falsehood — for  then  your  features  smile  like 
those  of  a  sleeping  child  during  the  holidays.  You  are  then  the 
very  beau  ideal  of  a  happy  and  harmless  old  gentleman. 

North.  What  a  leg.  Tickler ! 

Tickler.  Which  of  the  two  do  you  allude  to  ? 

North.  This  one — the  right  one — ^the  one  with  the  calf. 

Tickler.  Well — I  confess  I  prefer  the  other — it  is  so  slim — ^nay, 
so  el^^nt  in  tights.  But  you  must  have  had  your  advantage  in 
having  legs  of  such  opposite  characters;  while  to  virgins,  with 
downcast  eyes,  you  had  gently  to  put  forth  the  leg  that,  ever  since 
I  knew  it,  looked  all  ankle  from  instep  to  knee-pan,  an  innocent- 
looking  leg  that  would  not  harm  a  fly — to  widows,  with  less  timor- 
ous eyes,  you  could,  at  the  same  moment,  exhibit  the  leg  that,  ever 
since  I  knew  it,  looked  all  calf — a  dangerous  leg  that  could  trample 
a  dragon — ^and  thus  you  might  bring  down  your  bird,  right  and 
left. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


226  KOCTES  AMBROSIAKM. 

North.  No  more  impertinence,  if  you  please,  Tim.  I  know  no 
purer — no  higher  pleasure  than  to  sit  in  full  fig  before  a  large  mirror, 
and  admire  myself — my  person — my  body — the  outer  man  of  Chris- 
topher North.  From  an  hour's  such  contemplation,  I  always  feel 
that  I  rise  up  a  better — a  wiser — a  happier  man. 

Tickler.  No  wonder. 

North.  Never  surely  was  there  a  countenance  that  so  happily 
united  in  its  every  feature  the  expression  of  moial  goodness  and 
that  of  intellectual  grandeur.  But  perhaps  my  person  is  even 
more 

Tickler.  A  mere  atomy.  I  wonder  you  are  not  afraid  to  sleep  by 
yourself;  you  must  be  so  like  a  skeleton  in  a  shroud. 

North.  AH  living  creatures,  Tickler,  derive  their  chief  happiness 
from  self-admiration.  Not  a  more  complete  coxcomb  than  a  toad. 
He  is  willing  to  confess  that  he  may  be  rather  yellowish — rather 
tawny  or  so  about  the  gills  ;  but  then  what  an  eye  in  his  head — so 
full  of  the  fire  of  genius  !  It  is  not  possible  to  look  at  a  rat  for  five 
minutes  sitting  by  himself  on  a  dunghill,  without  being  convinced 
that  he  esteems  his  tail  one  of  the  most  captivating  productions  of 
animated  nature.  A  pug-dog  would  never  twist  his  tail  so  over  one 
side  of  his  rump,  did  he  not  live  under  the  blessed  delusion  of  know- 
ing himself  to  be  a  million  times  more  beautiful  than  any  of 
Adonis's  darlings  that  used  to  lick  the  hands  of  Venus.  No  degree 
of  dumpiness  in  women  is  incompatible  with  a  belief  in  a  good 
figure. 

Tickler.  Oh  !  North  !  North  I  There  are  some  truly  ugly  women 
in  Edinburgh  ! 

North.  There  are,  indeed,  Tickler.  Strong,  bony,  flat,  men -like 
women,  who  walk  fkst  and  firm ;  look  you  hard  in  the  face,  God 
knows  why,  while  the  forehead  immediately  above  their  eyebrows 
is  puckered  up  into  a  knot  of  wrinkles ;  their  mouth  unconsciously 
wide  open.  While  all  intent  in  scrutinizing  the  object  of  their 
search,  they  totally  forget  all  the  rest  of  the  external  world,  and 
run  themselves  back  front  foremost,  perhaps  against  some  unlucky 
baker  with  a  board  of  loaves  on  his  head,  which  all  tumble  into  the 
kennel. 

Tickler.  Why,  there  may  perhaps  be  some  little  excuse  for  the 
ugly  devils,  when  fascinated  by  such  a  rattlesnake  as  Christopher 
North ;  but  what  the  deuce  do  they  see  in  an  ordinary-looking  man, 
of  six  feet  four,  like  me,  or  what  the  deuce  do  they  want  with  me  at 
my  time  of  life?  I  declare,  North,  that  the  very  next  time  one  of 
those  great  gray -eyed  glowering  gaukies  opens  her  mouth  at  me  in 
Prince-street,  and  selects  me  from  all  the  mighty  multitude  of  man- 
kind, for  ocular  inspection,  I  will  demand  a  public  explanation, 
perhaps  apology ;  or,  should  the  day  be  warm,  offer  to  strip  on  the 


Digitized  by 


Google 


BKATINa  BXTBAOfiDINABT.  221 

spot,  provided  she  will  do  the  same,  on  condition,  after  a  motual 
lecture  on  comparative  anatomy,  of  my  ever  after  being  suffered  to 
pass  by  her  and  all  her  female  relatives,  without  farther  scrutiny. 

North.  They  positively  have  not  the  manners  of  modest  women. 

T\ckler.  Nor  the  minds  of  modest  women. 

North,  You  never  see  any  thing  of  the  kind  in  the  stranger, 
within  our  gates — in  the  English  women  who  honor,  by  their  fair 
and  sweet  presence,  our  metropolis.  They  walk  along  with  soft  and 
gentle,  but.  not  unobservant  eyes,  like  ladies,  and  1  love  them  all, 
for  they  are  all  lovable,  whereas 

Tickler.  Come,  Kit,  don't  let  us  two  sour  old  cynics  be  too  se- 
vere on  our  countrywomen,  for  they  make  excellent  wives  and 
mothers. 

North,  So  I  am  told.  Wives  and  mothers !  Alas !  Tickler !  our 
silent  homes ! 

Tickler,  Replenish.  That  last  jug  was  most  illustrious.  I  wish 
James  were  here. 

North,  Hush  !  hark  !  It  must  be  he  !  and  yet  'tis  not  just  the 
pastoral  tread  either  of  the  Bard  of  Benger.  "  Alike,  but  oh  !  how 
different!" 

Tickler.  "  His  very  step  has  music  in't  as  he  comes  up  the 
stair !" 

Shepherd^  {bursting  in  with  a  hang,)  Huzzaw !  huzzaw  !  huzzaw  ! 

North,  God  bless  you,  James ;  your  paw,  my  dear  Sus. 

Shepherd,  Fresh  frae  the  Forest,  in  three  hours 

Tickler,  What !  thirtv-six  miles  ? 

North,  So  it  is  true  that  you  have  purchased  the  famous  Ameri- 
can trotter  ? 

Shepherd.  Nae  trotters  like  my  ain  trotters !  Fve  won  my  bate, 
sirs. 

North.  Betl 

Shepherd,  Ay,— a  bate, — a  bate  o'  twenty  guineas. 

Tickler,  What  the  deuce  have  you  got  on  your  feet,  James  t 

Shepherd,  Skites.  I've  skited  frae  St.  Mary's  Loch  to  the  Canawl 
Basin  in  fowre  minouts  and  a  half  within  the  three  hours,  without 
turn  in'  a  hair. 

Tickler,  Do  keep  a  little  further  off,  James,  for  your  face  has 
waxed  intolerably  hot,  and  I  perceive  that  you  have  raised  the 
thermometer  a  dozen  degrees. 

Shepherd^  {flinging  a  purse  of  gold  on  the  table,)  It'll  require  a 
gae  Strang  thaw  to  melt  that,  chiels ;  sae  tak  your  change  out  o' 
that,  as  Joseph  says,  either  in  champagne,  or  yill,  or  porter,  or 
Burgundy,  or  ceder,  or  Glenlivet,  just  whatsomever  you  like  best  to 
drink  and  devoor ;  and  we  shanua  be  long  without  supper,  for  in 
comin*  along  the  trans  I  shooted  to  Tappytourie  forthwith  to  send 


Digitized  by 


Google 


222  NOCriBB  AHBBOSIAN^ 

in  samites  o'  all  the  several  eaUbles  and  drinkables  in  Picardy, 
Pm  desperate  hungry.     Lowse  my  skites,  Tickler. 

(Tickler  succumbs  to  unthong  tfy  Shbphbrd's  skates.) 

Tickler,  What  an  instep  ! 

Shepherd,  Ky^  nane  o'  your  plain  soles  that  gang  shiffle-sbaffling 
amang  the  chucky-stanes  assassinatin'  o'  the  insects;  but  a  foot 
arched  like  Apollo's  bow  when  he  shot  the  Python — heel,  of  a  firm 
and  decided,  but  unobtrusive  character — and  taes,  ilka  ane  a  thocht 
larger  than  the  ither,  like  a  family  o'  childer,  or  a  flight  o*  steps 
leading  up  to  the  pillared  portico  o  a  Grecian  terople. 

{Enter  Signor  Ambrosio  Susurrans  with  n  hetow  his  earm,) 

Shepherd,  That's  richt — O  but  Greeny  has  a  gran'  gurgle  t  A 
mouthfu*  o'  Millbank  never  comes  amiss.  Oh !  but  it's  potent ! — 
{gruing,)     I  wuss  it  be  na  ile  o*  vitrei. 

North,  James,  enlighten  our  weak  minds. 

Shepherd,  An  English  bagman,  you  see, — he's  unco  fond  of  poetry 
and  the  picturesque,  a  traveller  in  the  soft  line — paid  me  a  visit  the 
day  just  at  denner-time,  in  a  yellow  gig,  drawn  by  a  chestnut  blude 
meer;  and  aftei  we  had  discussed  the  comparative  merits  o'  my 
poems,  and  Lord  Byron's,  and  Sir  Walter's,  he  rather  attributrn'  to 
roe,  a'  things  conhidered,  the  superiority  over  baith  ;  it's  no  impos. 
sible  that  my  freen  got  rather  fuddled  a  wee,  for,  after  ronsin'  his 
meer  to  the  skies,  as  if  she  were  fit  for  Castor  himsell  to  ride  upon 
up  and  doun  the  blue  lift,  frae  leas  to  mair  he  offered  to  trot  her  in 
the  gig  into  Embro,  against  me  on  the  best  horse  in  a'  my  stable, 
and  gie  me  a  half  hour's  start  before  puttin'  her  into  the  shafts; 
when,  my  birses  being  up,  &ith  I  challenged  him,  on  the  same  con- 
dition, to  run  him  intil  Embro'  on  shank's  naiggie. 

North,  What !  biped  against  quadruped  ? 

Shepherd,  Just.  The  cretur,  as  soon  as  he  came  to  die  clear  un- 
derstandin'  o'  my  meanin',  gied  ane  o'  these  but  creenklin'  cackles  o' 
a  cockney  lauch,  that  can  only  be  forgiven  by  a  Christian  when  his 
saul  is  saften'd  by  the  sunny  hush  o'  a  Sabbath  morning. 

North,  Foraotten,  perhaps,  James,  but  not  forgiven. 

Shepherd.  The  bate  was  committed  to  black  and  white ;  and  then 
on  wi'  my  skates,  and  awa'  like  a  reindeer. 

Tickler,  What!  down  the  Yarrow  to  Selkirk — then  up  the 
Tweed? 

Shepherd,  Na — ^na !  naething  like  keepin'  the  high  road  for  safety 
in  a  skiting-match.  There  it  was — ^noo  stretchin'  straught  afore  me, 
noo  serpenteezin'  like  a  great  congor  eel,  and  noo  amaist  coilin'  it- 
self up  like  a  sleepin'  adder ;  but  whether  straught  or  crooked  or 
cirolin',  ayont  a'  imagination  sliddery,  sliddery ! 


Digitized  by 


Google 


6KATINO. 

TiekUr.  CoDfound  me — if  I  knew  that  we  had  frost. 

Shepherd,  That  comes  o*  trustin'  till  a  barometer  to  tell  you  when 
things  hae  oome  to  the  freezin'  pint  Frost !  The  ice  is  fourteen 
feet  thick  in  the  Loch — and  though  you  hae  nae  frost  about  Embro' 
like  our  frost  in  the  Forest,  yet  I  wadna  advise  you,  Mr.  Tickler,  to 
put  your  tongue  on  the  aim  rim  o'  a  cart  or  cotoh- wheel. 

North.  I  remember,  James,  being  beguiled — sixty-four  years  ago  ! 
— by  a  pretty  little,  light-haired,  blue-eyed  lassie,  one  starry  night  ot 
black  frost,  just  to  touch  a  cart-wheel  for  one  moment  with  the  tip 
of  my  tongue. 

Shepherd.  What  a  gowmeril ! 

North,  And  the  bonny  May  had  to  run  all  the  way  to  the  manse 
for  a  jug  of  hot  water  to  relieve  me  from  that  bondage. 

Shepherd,  You  had  a  gude  excuse,  sir,  for  gien  the  cutty  a  gude 
kissin'. 

North,  How  fragments  of  one's  past  existence  oome  suddenly 
flashing  back  upon 

Shepherd,  Hoo  I  snuved  alang  the  snaw !  Like  a  verra  curlin' 
stane,  when  a  dizzen  besoms  are  soopin'  the  ice  albre  it,  and  the 
granite  gangs  groanin'  gloriously  alang,  as  if  instinct  wi'  spirit,  and 
the  water-kelpie  below  strives  in  vain  to  keep  up  wi'  the  straigbt- 
forrit  planet,  still  accompanied  as  it  ^ins  wi'  a  sort  o'  spray,  like 
the  ahiverin'  atoms  o'  diamonds,  and  wi'  a  noise  to  which  the  hills 
&r  and  near  respond,  like  a  water-quake,  the  verra  ice  iUelf  seemin' 
at  times  to  sink  and  swell,  just  as  if  the  loch  were  a  great  wide 
glitter  in'  tin-plate,  beaten  out  by  that  cunnin'  whitesmith,  Wunter, 

Tickler,  And  every  mouth,  in  spite  of  frost,  thaws  to  the  thought 
of  oomed  beef  and  greens. 

Shepherd,  Hoo  I  snuved  alang  !  Some  oolleys  keepit  geyan  weel 
up  wi'  me  as  far's  Traquair  Manse,  but  ere  I  crossed  the  Tweed  my 
canine  tail  had  d rapped  quite  away,  and  I  had  but  the  company  of  a 
couple  of  crows  to  Peebles. 

North,  Did  you  dine  on  the  road,  James  f 

Shepherd,  Did'nt  I  tell  you  I  had  dined  before  I  set  off!  I  ettled 
at  a  caulker  at  Eddlestone,  but  in  vain  attempted  to  moderate  my 
velocity  as  I  neared  the  village,  and  had  merely  time  to  fling  a  look 
to  my  worthy  friend  the  minister,  as  I  flew  by  that  tree4udden 
manse,  and  ^  rill-diyided  garden,  beautilul  alike  in  dew  and  in 
oranreuch ! 

Tickler,  Helpless  as  Mazeppa  ! 

Shepherd,  It's  &r  worse  to  be  ridden  aff  wi'  by  ane's  ain  sowle 
than  by  the  wildest  o'  the  desert  loon. 

North,  At  this  moment  the  soul  seems  ranning  away  with  the 
body, — at  that,  the  body  is  ofi*  with  the  soul.    Spirit  and  matter  are 


Digitized  by 


Google 


224  NOCTTES  AHBBOBIAN^. 

playing  at  fast  and  loose  with  each  other,  and  at  full  speed  you  get 
skeptical  as  Spinoza. 

Shepherd.  Sometimes  the  ruts  are  for  miles  thegither  regular  as 
railroads,  and  your  skite  gets  fitted  intil  a  groove,  sae  that  you  can 
haul  out  ane  o*  your  legs  like  an  opera  dancer  playin'  a  peryette ; 
and  on  the  ither  glint  by,  to  the  astonishment  o'  toU-keepers,  who  at 
first  suspect  you  to  be  on  horseback — then  that  you  may  be  a  bird — 
and  finally  that  you  must  be  a  ghost. 

Tickler,  Did  you  upset  any  carriage,  James  ? 

Shepherd.  Nane  that  I  recollect — I  saw  severals,  but  whether  they 
were  coming  or  going,  in  motion  or  at  rest,  it  is  not  for  me  to  say  ; 
but  they,  and  the  hills,  and  woods,  and  clouds,  seemed  a'  to  be  floatin' 
awa'  thegither  in  the  direction  o'  the  mountains  at  the  head  o'  Clydes- 
dale. 

Tickler,  And  where  all  this  while  was  the  Bagman  ? 

Shepherd,  Wanderin',  nae  doubt,  a'  afoam,  leagues  ahint ;  for  the 
chestnut  meer  was  well  cauked,  and  she  ance  won  a  King's  Plate  at 
Doncaster.  You  may  hae  seen,  Mr.  North,  a  cloud-giant  on  a  stormy- 
day  striding  alang  the  sky,  coverin'  a  parish  wi'  ilka  stretch  o'  his 
spawl,  and  pausin',  aiblins,  to  tak'  his  breath  now  and  then  at  the 
meetin*  o'  twa  counties ;  if  sae,  you  hae  seen  an  image  o'  me,— only 
he  was  in  the  heavens  and  I  on  the  yerth — he  an  unsubstantial  phan- 
tom, and  I  twal  stane  wecht — he  silent  and  sullen  in  his  flight,  I 
musical  and  merry  in  mine 

Tickler,  But  on  what  principle  came  you  to  stop,  James  % 

Shepherd,  Luckily  the  Pentland  Hills  came  to  my  succor.  By 
means  of  one  of  their  ridges  I  got  gradually  rid  of  a  portion  of  my 
velocity — subdued  down  into  about  seven  miles  an  hour,  which  rate 
got  gradually  diminished  to  about  four ;  and  here  I  am,  gentlemen, 
afler  having  made  a  narrow  escape  from  a  stumble,  that  in  York 
Place  threatened  to  set  me  off  again  down  Lei  th  Walk,  in  which  case 
I  must  have  gone  on  to  Portobello  or  Musselburgh. 

North,  Well,  if  I  did  not  know  you,  my  dear  James,  to  be  a 
matter-of-fact  man,  I  should  absolutely  begin  to  entertain  some 
doubt  of  your  veracity. 

Shepherd,  What  the  deevil's  that  hingin'  frae  the  roof  1 

North,  Why,  the  chandelier. 

Shepherd,  The  shandleer  1  It's  a  cage,  wi'  an  outlandish  bird 
in't.  A  pawrot,  I  declare!  Pretty  poll!  Pretty  Poll!  Pretty 
poll! 

Parrot,  Gro  to  the  devil  and  shake  yourself. 

Shepherd,  Heaven  preserve  us ! — ^heard  you  ever  the  likes  o'that? 
A  bird  cursin' !  What  sort  o'  an  education  must  the  cretur  hae  had  1 
Poor  beast,  do  you  ken  what  you're  sayin'  1 


Digitized  by 


Google 


THE  PARBOT,   RAVKf,  AND  8TARLINO.  995 

Parrot  Much  cry  and  little  woo],  as  the  devit  s^id  when  he  was 
sbearing  the  Hog. 

Shepherd,  YouVe  gettin^  personal,  sir,  or  madam,  for  I  dinna  pre- 
tend to  ken  your  sex. 

North,  That  every  body  does,  James,  wko  has  any  thing  to  do 
with  Blackwood's  Magazine. 

Shepherd,  True  enough,  sir.  If  it  wad  but  keep  a  gude  tongue  in 
its  head — it  s  really  a  bonny  cretur.  What  plumage !  What'll  you 
hae,  Polly,  for  sooper  ? 

Parrot,  Molly  put  the  kettle  on, 

Molly  put  the  kettle  on, 
Molly  pot  the  kettle  oo, 
And  I  shall  have  some  ptmolk 

Shepherd.  That's  fearsome.  Yet,  whisht !  What  itker  vioe  was 
that  speakin'  ?     A  gruff  vice.     There  again !  whisht ! 

Voice,  The  devil  he  eame  to  our  town, 

Ai^  rode  away  wi'  the  essiBemaiil 

Shepherd,  This  room's  no  canny.  I'm  aff,  {rising  to  go,)  Mercy 
me !  A  Raven  hoppin'  aneath  the  sideboard  !  Look  at  him,  how  he 
turns  his  great  big  broad  head  to  the  ae  side,  and  keeps  regardin' 
me  wi'  an  evil  eye !     Satan  ! 

North,  My  familiar,  James. 

Shepherd,  Whence  came  he  ? 

North,  One  gloomy  night  1  heard  him  croaking  in  the  garden. 

Shepherd,  You  did  wrang,  sir, — it  was  rash  to  let  him  in ;  wha 
ever  heard  o'  a  real  Raven  in  a  suburban  garden  ?  It's  some  demon 
pretendin'  to  be  a  raven.  Only  look  at  him  wi'  the  silver  ladle  in 
his  bill.  Noo  he  draps  it,  and  is  ruggin'  at  the  Turkey  carpet,  as 
if  he  were  colleoktin'  lining  for  his  nest.  Let  alane  the  carpet,  you 
Ugly  villain. 

Raven.  The  devil  would  a  wooin'  go — ^ho — ho !  the  wooin'  ho ! 

Shepherd.  Ay — ay — you  hear  how  it  is,  gentlemen — "  Love  is  a' 
the  theme" — 

Raven,  To  woo  his  bonny  la«sie  when  the  kye  come  hame ! 

Shepherd,  Satan  singin'  ane  o'  my  sangs !  Frae  this  hour  I  for- 
swear poetry. 

Voice,  O  love — love— love, 

Love's  like  a  dicziiieflB. 

Shepherd,  What !  another  voice  ? 
Tideler.  Jame&^-James — he's  on  your  shoulder. 
Shepherd^    {etarting    up    in  great   emotion.)      Wha's    on    my 
shouther  ? 

Vol.  III.— 16 


Digitized  by 


Google 


226  NOcrrES  ambrosiai^jb. 

North.  Only  Matthew. 

Shepherd,  Puir  bit  bonny  burdie !  What !  you're  a  Stirling,  are 
you  ?  Ay — ay — just  pick  and  dab  awa  there  at  the  hair  in  my  lug. 
Yet  I  wad  rather  see  you  fleein'  and  flutterin'  in  and  out  o'  a  bit 
hole  aneath  a  wall-flower  high  up  on  some  auld  and  ruined  castle 
standin'  by  itsell  among  the  woods. 

Raven,  O  love — ^love — ^lore, 

Love's  like  a  dizziaess. 

Shepherd,  Rax  me  ower  the  poker,  Mr.  North— or  lend  me  your 
crutch,  that  I  may  brain  sooty. 

Starling.  It  wunie  let  a  puir  bodie 

OaDg  about  his  bissioess. 

Parrot,  Fie,  Whigs,  awa* — fie,  Whigs,  awa'. 
Shepherd,  Na — the  bird  does  na  want  sense. 

Raven.  The  deil  sat  gimio'  iu  a  oeuk, 

Riviog  sticks  to  roast  the  Duke. 

Shepherd.  Oh  ho !  you  are  fond  of  picking  up  Jacobite  relics. 

Raven.  Ho  !  blood — blood — blood — blood — blood  ! 

Shepherd.  What  do  you  mean,  you  sinner? 

Raven.  Burke  him — Burke  him — Burke  him.  Ho — ho — ho— 
blood — blood — blood  I 

Bronte,  Bow — wow — wow — ^bow — wow — wow —  bow  —  wow  — 
wow. 

Shepherd,  A  complete  aviary,  Mr.  North.  Weel,  that's  a  sight 
worth  lookin'  at.  Bronte  lying  on  the  rug — never  perceivin'  that 
it's  on  the  tap  o'  a  worsted  teegger — a  raven,  either  real  or  pre- 
tended, amusin'  himsell  wi'  ruggin'  at  the  dog's  toosey  tail — the 
pawrot,  wha  maun  hae  opened  the  door  o'  his  cage  himsell,  sittin' 
on  Bronte's  shouther — and  the  Stirling,  Matthew,  hiding  himsell 
ahint  his  head — no  less  than  four  irrational  creturs,  as  they  are 
called,  on  the  rug — each  wi'  a  natur  o'  its  ain — and  then  again  four 
rational  creturs,  as  they  are  called,  sittin'  round  them  on  chairs — 
each  wi'  his  specific  character  too— and  the  aught  makin'  ane  aggre- 
gate—or whole— of  parts  not  unharmoniously  combined. 

North.  Why,  James,  there  are  but  three  of  the  rationals. 

Sft^pherd.  I  find  I  was  counting  mysell  twice  over. 

Tickler,  Now  be  persuaded,  my  dear  Shepherd,  before  supper  is 
brought  ben,  to  take  a  warm  bath,  and  then  rig  yourself  out  in  your 
Sunday  suit  of  black,  which  Mr.  Ambrose  keeps  sweet  for  you  in 
his  own  drawer,  bestrewed  with  sprigs  of  thyme,  whose  scent  fadeth 
not  for  a  century. 

Shepherd.  Faith,  I  think  I  shall  tak  a  plouter. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


FHB  FEBCALB  FOETB.  227 

(Shbphbrd  retires  ink  the  marble  bath  adjoiMng  the  Snuggery.     The 

hot  water  is  let  on  with  a  mighty  noise.) 

North,  Do  jou  want  the  flesh-brushes,  James  ? 

Shepherd^  (from  within.)  I  wish  I  had  some  female  slaves,  wi' 
wooden  swurds,  to  scrape  me  wi'  like  the  Shah  o'  Persia. 

Tickler,  Are  you  in,  James  ? 

Shepherd.  Hearken ! 

{A  sullen  plunge  is  heard  as  of  a  huge  stone  into  the  deep-down 
waters  of  a  draw-well.) 

Norths  {looking  at  his  watch.)  Two  minutes  have  elapsed.  I 
hope.  Tickler,  nothing  apoplectical  has  occurred. 

Shepherd,  Blow— o— wo — ho— wro  ! 

Tickler,  Why,  James, 

"  You  are  gargling  Italian  half-way  down  your  throat* 

North,  What  temperature,  James  ? 

Shepherd.  Nearly  up  at  egg-boiling.  But  you  had  better,  sirs,  be 
makin'  anither  jug — for  that  ane  was  geyan  sair  dune  afore  I  left 
you — ^and  I  maun  hae  a  glass  of  het  and  het  as  sune  as  I  come  out, 
to  prevent  me  takin*  the  cauld.  I  hope  there's  nae  current  o'  air  in 
the  room.  Wha's  this  that  bled  himsell  to  death  in  a  bath  !  Was 
na't  Seneca? 

North.  James,  who  is  the  best  female  poet  of  the  age  % 

Shepherd,  Female  what  1 

Tickler,  Poet. 

Shepherd,  Mrs.  John  Biley.  In  her  Plays  on  the  Passions,  she 
has  a'  the  vigor  o'  a  man,  and  a'  the  delicacy  o'  a  woman.  And  oh, 
sirs  !  but  her  lyrics  are  gems,  and  she  wears  them  gracefully,  like 
diamond-draps  danglin'  frae  the  ears  o'  Melpomene.  The  very 
warst  play  she  ever  wrote  is  better  than  the  best  o*  ony  ither  body  s 
that  hasna  kickt  the  bucket. 

North,  Yet  they  won't  act,  James. 

Shepherd.  They  wull  ack.  Count  Bosil  '11  ack — and  De  Mont- 
ford  '11  ack — and  Constantine  '11  ack — and  they'll  a*  ack. 

Tickler.  Miss  Mitford,  James  1 

Shepherd.  I'm  just  verra  fond  o'  that  lassie — Mitford.  She  has 
an  ee  like  a  hawk's,  that  misses  naething,  however  far  afif — and  yet 
like  a  dove's,  that  sees  only  what  is  nearest  and  dearest,  and  round 
about  the  hame-circle  o'  its  central  nest.  I'm  just  excessive  fond  o' 
Miss  Mitford. 

Tickler,  Fond  is  not  the  right  word,  James. 

Shepherd,  It  is  the  richt  word,  Timothy — either  in  the  het  bath  or 
out  o't.  I'm  fond  o'  a'  gude  female  writers.  They're  a'  bonnie^ 
and  every  passage  they  write  carries,  as  it  ought  to  do,  their  femi- 
nity alang  wi'  it.      The  young  gentlemen  o'  England   should  be 


Digitized  by 


Google 


328  NOOTEB  AMBBOSIAtf^. 

ashamed  o'  theirsdis  fo^letting  ker  name  be  Mif/ord.  They  8hout4 
marry  her  whether  she  wull  or  no— for  she  would  mak  baitfa  a  useful 
and  agreeable  wife.     That's  the  best  creetii^hism  o^  her  warks. 

Tickkr.  L.  E.  L.  ? 

Shepherd,  A  delightfu'  cretur. 

Tickler,  Mrs.  Heinans? 

Shepherd,  Haud  your  tongue,  ye  sinner.  I  see  your  drift  paw — 
suggesting  to  my  imagination  a'  the  flower  o*  the  female  genius  o' 
the  Three  Kingdoms.  What?  you  are  for  drawin'  a  pectur  o*  me 
as  Apollo  in  the  faet  bath  surrounded  wi*  the  Muses  ?  That  would 
be  a  fine  subject  for  Etty.* 

North,  Isn't  his  Judith  and  Holofemes,  my  dear  S|iepherd^  a 
noble,  a  majestic  performance  ? 

Shepherd.  Yon's  colorin' !  Judith's  richt  leg's  as  flesh-like  as  my 
ain  noo  lyin'  on  the  rim  o'  the  baith,  and  amaist  as  mu^ular. 

Tickler.  Not  so  hairy,  though,  James. 

Shepherd.  That's  worse.  You  think  you  hear  die  heroine^  prayer 
or  invocation.  The  energy  in  that  bonny  fair  straught  arm  comes 
direct  frae  heaven.  That  swurd  is  not  for  a  murder,  but  for  a  saeri- 
fice.  In  those  upraised  eyes  methinks  I  see  reluctance  to  shed  blood 
giving  way  to  the  holy  resolve  to  set  her  country  free  frae  the  op- 
pressor. Her  face  is  somewhat  pale — for  Judith  in  her  widowhood, 
amang  the  shades  o'  her  rural  retirement,  was  a  lover  o'  pensive 
peace ;  but  her  dead  husband's  spirit  stood  before  her  in  a  dream, 
and  inspired  her  to  go  to  the  camp  before  the  city,  and  by  one  great 
and  dreadfu'  deed  to  render  her  name  immortal  in  national  sang. 
What  matronly  majesty  in  that  swelling  bosom,  which  the  enamored 
giant  was  not  suffered  with  one  touch  to  profane  I  Pure  as  stern 
she  stands  amid  the  golden  cups  drained  by  that  warrior- wassailer— 
in  another  moment  to  "  be  red,  but  not  with  wine ;"  when,  like 
lightning  descending  from  heaven,  that  sword  shall  smite  him  in  his 
sleep  through  the  spouting  spine — and  methinks  I  see,  at  morning 
dawn,  the  fires  o'  liberty  sun  kindled,  and  glintin'  gloriously  on  all 
the  city  towers. 

North.  Bravo!  James. 

Shepherd.  I'm  geyan  weel  sodden  noo,  and  I  think  PU  oeme  out 
Ring  the  bell,  sir,  for  iny  black  daes. 

North.  I  have  been  toasting  your  shirt,  James,  at  the  fire.  Will 
you  oome  out  for  iti 

Shepherd,  Fling't  in  at  the  door.  Thank  you,  sir.  Ho!  here's 
the  claes,  I  declare,  hingin'  on  the  tenters.  Is  that  sooper  eomiu'  in  ? 
Noo,  I'm  rubbed  down — ae  stockin'  on — -anither^ — noo,  the  flannen 

*  William  Etty.  an  English  artist  of  pjeat  talant,  whoM  ttyla  was  formtd  on  that  of  tho 
Venatian  Mhool.  whoM  maoaar  and  aolonag  h«  had  oloiaW  atudiiad.  Hia  **  Judith."  nov  bo- 
longiog  to  the  Bdinburgh  Academr.  is  ona  of  tha  finest  of  modern  paintings.  Hia  best  woritt 
repr««ent  tke  female  fl|(itre  a  ode.    IliacI  in  IHAO.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


MAimN^l  DSLCJ0S.  9S9 

drawers — and  noo,  the  breeks.     Oh !  bat  that  torkey  has  a  gnm' 
smell  I     Mr.  Aumrose,  raa  slippers !     Noo  for't. 

(The  Shepherd  reappears,  in  full  sables,  blooming  Uke  a  roce.) 

North.  Oome  away,  my  dear  Shepherd.  Is  he  oot,  Tickler,  like 
a  black  eagle  that  has  renewed  his  youth? 

{^They  take  their  seats  at  ths  Supper  TcAle — MuUigaUxwwy — 
Roasted  Turkey^^FiUet  of  Veal—Soles — A  Pie — and  the 
Cold  Bound — Potatoes — Oysters,  <kc.  <kc,  <kc.  <ke. 

North.  The  turkey  is  not  a  large  one,  James,  and  after  a  thirty- 
six  miles*  run,  1  think  you  had  better  take  it  on  your  plate. 

Shepherd.  Na,  na,  sir.  Just  set  the  ashet  afore  me — tak  you  the 
f^ll^t — gie  Tickler  the  pie — and  noo,  let  us  hae  some  discourse  about 
the  fine  airts. 

Tickler.  The  Opposition  is  strong  this  season — reinforced  by  Etty, 
Linton,*  and  Martm. 

North.  But  how  came  you,  James,  to  see  the  Judith,  having  only 
arrived  within  the  hour  at  Edinbui^h  ? 

Shepherd.  Ask  no  questions,  and  youHl  hear  tell  no  lies.  I  hae 
seen  her,  as  my  description  pruves.  As  to  the  Deluge,  yon  picture's 
at  first  altogether  incomprehensible.  But  the  langer  you  glower  at 
it,  the  mair  and  mair  intelligible  does  a'  the  confusion  become,  and 
you  begin  to  feel  that  you're  looking  on  some  dreadfu'  disaster. 
Phantoms,  like  the  taps  o'  mountains,  grow  distincter  in  the  gloom, 
and  the  gloom  itsell,  that  at  first  seemed  clud,  is  noo  seen  to  be 
water.  What  you  thocht  to  be  snawy  rocks,  become  sea-like  waves, 
and  shudderin'  you  cry  out,  wi'  a  stifled  vice,  **  Lord  preserve  us,  if 
that's  no  the  Deluge !"  Mr.  Tickler,  dinna  blaw  the  froth  o'  your 
porter  in  my  face. 

Tickler.  Beg  your  pardon,  James — Perge. 

Shepherd.  But  whare's  a'  the  folk  )  That  canna  be  them — that 
huddle  o'  specks  like  flocks  o'  sheep  driven  to  and  fro  by  the  tem- 
pests !  It  is !  The  demented  survivors  o'  the  human  race  a'  gath- 
ered  together  on  ledges  o'  rocks,  up,  up,  up,  ae  ledge  aboon  anither, 
a'  frowning  o'er  the  brink  o'  eternity.  That's  even  waur  than  the 
decks  o'  a  vessel  in  shipwreck.  Gang  nearer  the  pictur — and  there 
thousans  on  thousans  o  folk  broken  out  o'  Bedlam  a'  mad  !  and  nae 
wonder,  fbr  yon's  a  fearsome  moon,  a'  drenched  in  blood,  in  con- 
junction wi'  a  fiery  comet,  and  there's  lichtenin'  too  splinterin'  the 
crags  till  they  topple  doon  on  the  raging  multitude  o*  men  and 
women  mixed  wi'  horses  and  elephants,  and  lions  roarin'  in  their 
fear — antediluvian  lions,  far,  far  bigger  than  the  biggest  that  ever 
since  fought  in  a  Roman  amphitheatre,  or  are  at  this  moment  lying 
with  their  mouths  atween  their  paws  in  the  sands  o'  Africa. 

*  William  Liaton,  aa  English  utiit,  with  ikaeifnl  imafiaatioa,  bat  rathar  a  CMhla  ookr- 
iflt.— M 


Digitized  by 


Google 


230  IfOOrES  AHBJBOSIANiB. 

Tickler.  Why,  James,  you  are  not  unlike  a  lion  yourself  just  now, 
growling  over  the  carcass  of  a  young  buffalo.  Shall  I  ring  for 
another  turkey  ? 

Shepherd.  Mind  your  ain  pie,  sir.  Here's  to  you — what  yill ! 
Berwick  is  the  best  of  brewers  in  Britain. 

North.  Linton*s  "  Return  of  a  Victorious  Armament"  is  splendid  ; 
but  it  is  pure  imagination.  His  architecture  is  not  to  my  eye 
Grecian.     It  is  too  lofty  and  too  light. 

Tickler.  But  what  a  glorious  dream.  North  !  And  the  triumphal 
pageant  glides  majestically  along,  beneath  those  aerial  pillars,  and 
piles,  and  domes,  and  temples,  and  pure  celestial  clime — fit  dwelling 
for  heroes  and  demigods. 

Shepherd.  Mind  your  pie,  sir,  and  dinna  imitate  me  in  speakin'  as 
weel  as  in  eatin'. 

Tickler.  'Tis  a  noble  ambition,  James,  to  emulate  your  excellence 
in  either. 

Shepherd.  But  then,  sir,  your  natural  capacity  is  greater  for  the 
ane  than  the  ither. 

North.  But  what  think  you,  James,  of  our  own  artists  this  year  f 

Shepherd.  Just  very  muckle.  But  let  us  no  particulareeze,  for 
fear  o'  gien  offence,  or  doin'  injustice  to  men  o'  genius.  Baith  Insti- 
tutions are  capital ;  and  if  you  were  gude  for  ony  thing,  you 
would  write  an  article  o*  thirty  pages  on  them,  when  you  would  hae 
scope 

North.  Perhaps  I  may,  for  next  Number.  Meanwhile,  shall  we 
clear  decks  1 

Shepherd.  Did  you  ever  see  sic  a  preparation  o'  a  skeleton  o'  a 
turkey  ?  We  maun  send  it  to  the  College  Museum,  to  staun  in  a 
glass  case  aside  Burke's. 

North.  What  did  you  think,  James,  of  the  proceedings  of  these 
two  Irishmen  1 

Shepherd.  That  they  were  too  monotonous  to  impress  the  imagi- 
nation. First  ae  drunk  auld  wife,  and  then  anither  drunk  auld  wife 
— and  then  a  third  drunk  auld  wife — and  then  a  drunk  auld  or  sick 
man  or  twa.  The  confession  got  unco  monotonous — the  Lights  and 
Shadows  o'  Scottish  Death  want  relief — though,  to  be  sure,  poor 
Peggy  Paterson,  that  Unfortunate,  broke  in  a  little  on  the  uniformity  ; 
and  sae  did  Daft  Jamie  ;  for  whilk  last  murder,  without  ony  impiety, 
ane  may  venture  to  say,  the  Devil  is  at  this  moment  ruggin'  that 
Burke  out  o'  hell  fire  wi'  a  three-prong'd  fork,  and  then  in  wi'  him 
again,  through  the  ribs — ^and  then  stirring  up  the  coals  wi'  that 
eternal  poker — and  then  wi'  the  great  bellows  blawin'  up  the  fur- 
nace, till,  like  ah  Etna,  or  Mount  Vesuvius,  it  vomits  the  murderer 
out  again  far  ower  into  the  very  middle  o'  the  floor  o'  the  infernal 
regions. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


BURKE,   THE  MUBDEREB.  ^231 

Tickler.  Whisht — whisht — James ! 

Shepherd.  Nae  system  o'  divinity  shuts  mortal  mouths  against 
such  enormous  monsters.  I  am  but  a  worm.  We  are  all  worms. 
But  we  crawl  in  the  licht  of  heaven ;  and  God  has  given  us  voices 
to  be  lifted  up  from  the  dust,  when  horrid  guilt  loosens  our  tongues, 
and  the  moral  sense,  roused  by  religion,  then  denounces,  without 
misgivings,  the  curse  o'  heaven  on  the  hell-doom'd  soul  o'  the  Athe- 
istic murderer.     What  forbids  ? 

North.  Base,  blind  superstition,  in  the  crimes  of  the  creature  for- 
getful of  the  laws  of  the  Creator.     Nothing  else. 

Shepherd.  Was  he  penitent  ?     If  sae,  I  abhor  my  words. 

North.  Impenitent  as  a  snake — remorseless  as  a  tiger.  I  studied 
in  his  cell,  his  hard,  crue]  eyes,  from  whose  lids  had  never  dropped 
the  tear 

*  That  Bacred  pity  had  engeoder^d" — 

his  hardened  lips,  which  truth  never  touched  nor  moved  from  their 
cunning  compression — his  voice  rather  sofl  and  calm,  but  steeped  in 
hypocrisy  and  deceit — his  collected  and  guarded  demeanor,  full  of 
danger  and  guile — all,  all  betrayed,  as  he  lay  in  his  shackles,  the  cool, 
calculating,  callous,  and  unrelenting  villain.  As  the  day  of  execu- 
tion drew  near,  his  anxiety  was  oA^en — I  am  told  by  those  who  saw 
him,  and  marked  him  well — manifest  in  his  dim  or  darkened  coun- 
tenance— for  the  felon's  throat  felt  in  imagination  the  suffocating 
halter;  but  when  that  dream  passed  off  he  would  smile — nay,  laugh 
— and  inly  exult  in  his  series  of  murders,  so  long  successfully  per- 
petrated— and  the  bodies  of  the  slaughtered  still  carried  to  a  ready 
market — prompt  payment  without  discount — eight  or  ten  pounds 
for  a  corpse,  and  whisky  cheap ! — so  that  murderers,  and  those  about 
to  be  murdered,  might  all  get  speedily  fuddled,  and  drunk  together, 
and  then  the  hand  on  the  mouth  and  throat — a  few  gasps  and  con- 
vulsions— and  then  corpse  after  corpse  huddled  in  among  straw,  or 
beneath  chaff-beds,  or  into  herring-barrels,  then  into  tea-chests — and 
off  to  the  most  unsuspicious  and  generous  of  surgeons  that  ever  gave 
a  bounty  on  the  dead  for  the  beneBt  of  the  living.* 

*  For  tht  better  anderBtanding  of  the  incident*  which  oconired  in  Edinburgh,  in  18S8,  and 

Kve  the  name  of  **  Burking"  to  a  certain  description  of  murder,  it  ii  neceasarY  to  state  the 
iding  details,  as  elicited  in  the  Court  of  Justice  in  which  the  case  was  tried.  Thej  occarred 
years  Mfore  I  xisited  Edinbugh.  but  left  8«ch  an  impression  (from  their  enormity)  as  nothing 
eould  obliterate.— In  the  High  Court  of  Justiciary,  at  Edinburgh,  on  December  *i4,  18S(j,  Wil- 
liam Burke  and  Helen  McI>ougal,  (his  paramour,)  were  indicted  for  wilful  murder.  The 
Judges  were  the  Lord  Justice  Clerk,  Lords  Fitmilley,  Meadowbank,  and  Mackenzie.  The  Law 
Officers  of  the  Crown  prosecuted  ;— the  prisoners  were  defended  by  the  Dean  of  Faculty,  Mr. 
Cockbnm,  and  Mr.  Rooertson,  each  of  whom  subsequently  became  a  Judge.  The  indictment 
charged  the  parties  with  the  commission  of  three  murders,  by  suffocation,  with  the  felonious 
design  of  selling  the  bodies  for  the  purposes  of  dissection.  The  first  case  was  that  of  Mary 
Patison  or  Michell,  murdered  at  Oibba'  Cloee,  in  the  Canongate,  Edinburgh,  in  April,  Lb26. 
The  second  was  that  of  James  Wilson,  (a  half-witted  and  deformed  person  usually  called 
'*  Daft  Jamie.")  at  a  house  in  Tanner's  Close.  Western  Fortsbargh,  Edinbureh,  in  October, 
1828.  The  third,  for  the  murder,  also  in  the  honsr  at  West  Poruburgh,  on  Friday,  October  31, 
1838,  of  Margaret  or  Madgy  McGonegal.  or  Duffiid,  or  Campbell,  or  Doeherty,— a  woman  ad- 


Digitized  by 


Google 


282  NOGTBS  AMBBO&IASJIL 

Shepherd.  Was  he  a  strong  fallow,  Burke  f 

North,  No,  a  neat  little  man  of  about  five  feet  five,  well  propor 
tioned,  especially  in  his  legs  and  thighs — round-bodied,  but  narrow- 
chested — arms  rather  thin — small  wrists,  and  a  moderate-sized  hand 
— no  mass  of  muscle  anywhere  about  his  limbs  or  frame— but 
vigorously  necked — with  hard  forehead  and  cheek-bones — a  very 
active,  but  not  a  powerful  man — and  intended  by  nature  for  a  dan- 
cing-master.    Indeed  he  danced  well  ~ excelling  in  the  Irish  jig — 

▼aneed  in  7«uSf  who  had  had  MTtral  husband*,  and  therefore  had  MTeral  alimte*.  Whe^; 
called  upon  to  plead, 'Burke  objected,  on  the  rround  that  he  was  charged  with  three  unconnected' 
muiden,  said  to  have  occurred  at  different  plaoes  and  times,  and  that  the  indiotment  ehalwed 
him  in  company  with  a  peraon  who  was  accused  of  participation  in  onlj  one  of  these.  For 
Helen  MoDougall  a  similar  objection  was  made.    The  Jnd^  decided  that  the  prisoners  xOust 

Stlead,  but  that  each  aecnsation  should  be  disposed  of  terimtim.  Whereupon  the  Lord  Advoeste^ 
Sir  William  Rea,)  decided  on  oommencinff  with  the  last  ease,— that  of  Blarffaret  CampbelL 
^roro  the  evidence  given  it  appeared  that  Burke  met  this  woman  in  a  grocer  s  shop  at  Port^* 
burgh.  The  woman  was  a  stranger,  looking  for  her  son.  and  Burke,  pretendinr  that  he  knew 
some  of  her  family,  offered  to  take  her  to  his  residence  nard  by,  and  give  her  Dreakfsst.  She 
accompanied  him,  being  quite  sober  at  the  time,  and.  as  was  proved  by  those  whp  knew  her, 
not  in  the  habit  of  taking  strong  drink.  William  Hare,  partner  and  coadjutor  in  the  crime, 
having  been  admitted  as  King^s  evidence  or  apurorer,  testified  that  the  prisoner  Helen  Mo- 
Donral  had  come  to  him  with  a  request  from  Burke  that  he  would  at  once  go  to  West  Ports- 
burgk  **  to  see  the  «Aot'^— that  being  their  distinguishing  name  for  a  victim  who  was  entrap-^ 
ped  and  was  to  be  murdered,— that  he  found  Madgy  Csmpbell  sitting  in  Burke's  room,— that 
some  dispute,  which  ended  in  a  row,  arose  between  himself  and  Burke, — that  Madgy  CaxnpbelJ, 
who  was  then  in  liquor,  got  alarmed,  and  opened  the  door,  calling  out  ^  Murder^  and  for  the 
police, — that,  when  the  quarrel  ended,  more  whisky  was  drank,— that  the  woman  Campbell, 
lying  on  the  floor  upon  some  straw,  fell  asleep,— thst  Burke  then  threw  himself  upon  her. 
oovering  her  face  with  his  breast,— that  she  oned  and  moaned  while  with  one  hand  he  held 
her  nose  and  mouth,  the  other  being  under  her  throat, — that  he  remained  thus,  stopping  her 
breath  and  suffocating  her,  for  ten  or  fifteen  minutes,— that  Mrs.  Hare  and  Helen  McDougal 
were  lying  on  the  bed  while  this  was  doing,  and  went  out  of  the  room,  returning  when  it 
was  over,— that  the  corpse  was  let  lie  on  the  floor,  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  covered  with  straw, — 
that  they  purchased  a  tea-chest  at  a  grocer's,  in  which  they  stuffed  the  body,— that  they  em- 
ployed a  porter  to  take  this  tea-chest  to  Dr.  KnoxV  10  Surgeon's  Square,  at  twelve  o'clock  at 
night, — and  that  Paterson,  the  keeper  of  Dr.  Knox's  Anatomical  Museum,  (wile  had  previousip 
been  to  Burke's  kouee  ond  teen  the  body,)  then  gave  them  J£S,  i»omising  as  much  more  on  the 
following  Monday.  This  eridence  was  corroborated  by  other  witnesses,  and  particularly  by 
Paterson,  who  deposed  to  receiTing  the  body,  packed  up  and  crushed  into  a  tea-cneet,  it  having 
been  doubled  up  to  make  it  fit  in  such  a  narrow  receptacle ;  that,  when  he  examined  the  body 
he  found  that  olood  had  flowed  from  the  mouth ;  that  Dr.  Knox  had  received  forty  or  fifty 
"  subjects"  from  Burke  and  Hare,  usually  paying  about  JE8  for  each ;  and  that  when  bodies  of 
newly  deceased  were  brought  in,  which  evidently  had  never  been  interred,  it  was  not  the  cus- 
tom at  Dr.  Knox's  to  ask  any  questions  or  make  any  remark.  The  murder  was  discovered  by 
Mrs.  Grey,  who  lodged  at  Burke's,  and  accidentally  saw  the  corpse  on  the  floor,  partially 
covered  with  straw.  She  told  her  husband,  and  they  resolved  to  leave  the  place  at  once.  Mrs. 
Burke  asked  them  why  they  went  away,  and  they  stated  what  they  had  seen.  She  offered 
them  five  shillings  not  to  mention  it.  and  said  that  if  they  pleased  it  would  be  **  as  good  as 
jElO  a  week  to  them  !"  Mrs.  Grey  gave  information  to  the  police,  by  whom  all  the  parties 
were  arrested.  The  dead  body  was  found  at  Dr.  Knox's,  and  it  was  proved,  on  the  trial,  that 
it  preeented  every  sppearanoe  of  Tiolent  suffocation.  In  defenoe  Burke  denied  all  knowledge 
of  the  body,  and  ssid  it  had  been  left  at  his  house  by  a  porter.  The  female  prisoner  made  no 
defence.  The  verdict  was  "  Not  Proven,"  as  regarded  her,  and  **  Guilty,"  as  respected  him. 
The  sentence  was,  Burke  should  be  executed  on  January  98,  1890.  A  few  days  after  convle- 
tion,  Burke  made  a  voluntary  and  an  apparently  full  confession.  He  said  that,  about  Christ- 
mas, 1827,  s  man  had  died  in  the  house  where  he  and  Hare  then  resided,  and,  being  left 
alone  with  the  coffin,  they  removed  the  body,  filled  the  coffin  with  tanners'  bark,  (to  give  it 
the  requisite  weight,)  screwed  it  down  as  before,  concealed  the  body,  end  took  it  in  a  herring 
oarrel,  at  night,  to  Dr.  Knox's.  They  saw  himself,  he  asked  no  questions,  gare  them  £7  lOs  , 
snd  said  he  was  glad  to  see  them.  Thus  encouraged,  they  conunenced  a  series  of  murders,  by 
enticing  people  into  their  houses,  making  them  drunk,  and  then  suffocating  them.  Including 
'*  Daft  Jamie,"  the  list  of -victims  amounted  to  about  sixteen  persons.  Docherty,  he  said,  was 
the  onlr  person  who  resisted.  No  other  corpse  showed  signs  of  violence,  but  on  one  occasiop, 
when  tnoT  had  taken  a  body  so  recently  killed  as  to  be  quite  limber  and  sosscely  cold,  m 
Knox  mMS  bo  obssrration,  though  he  appeared  aware  of  the  circumstance.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


and  Wh^n  working  about  Peebles  and  Inverleithen  he  was  rerj 
fond  of  that  recreation.  In  that  neighborhood  he  was  reckoned  a 
good  specimen  of  the  Irish  character — not  quarrelsome — expert 
with  the  spade — and  a  pleasant  enough  companion  over  a  jug  of 
toddy.  Nothing  repulsive  about  him,  to  ordinary  observers  at  least, 
and  certainly  not  deficient  in  intelligence.  But  he  *'  had  that  within 
which  passeth  show" — "there  was  a  laughing  devil  in  his  eye,*' 
James — and  in  his  cell  he  applied  in  my  hearing  over  and  over 
again  the  words  "humane  man,**  to  those  who  had  visited  him, 
laying  the  emphasis  on  k'umane^  with  a  hypocritical  tone,  as  I 
thought,  that  showed  he  had  not  attached  its  appropriate  meaning 
to  the  word,  but  used  it  by  rote  like  a  parrot  — 

Shepherd,  Safe  us  !  what  like  was  Hare  ? 

North,  The  most  brutal  man  ever  subjected  to  my  sight — and  at 
first  looked  seemingly  an  idiot.  His  dull,  dead,  blackish  eyes,  wide 
apart,  one  rather  higher  up  than  the  other,  his  large,  thick,  or  rather 
coarse-lipped  mouth — his  high,  broad  cheek-bones,  and  sunken  cheeks, 
each  of  which  when  he  laughed — which  he  did  often— collapsed  into 
a  perpendicular  hollow,  shooting  up  ghastlily  from  chin  to  cheek- 
bone— all  steeped  in  a  sullenness  and  squalor  not  born  of  the  jail, 
but  native  to  the  almost  deformed  face  of  the  leering  miscreant 
---inspired  not  fear,  for  the  aspect  was  scarcely  ferocious,  but  dis- 
gust and  abhorrence — so  utterly  loathsome  was  the  whole  look  of 
tbe  reptile!  He  did  not  look  so  much  like  a  murderer  as  a 
resurrectionist — a  brute  that  would  grope  in  the  grave  for  the  dead 
rather  than  stifle  the  living — though,  to  be  sure,  that  required 
about  an  equal  degree  of  the  same  kind  of  courage  as  stifling  old 
drunk  women,  and  bedridden  old  men,  and  helpless  idiots — for  Daft 
Jamie  was  a  weak  creature  in  body,  and  though  he  might  in  sore 
affiight  have  tumbled  himself  and  his  murderer  off  the  bed  upoR 
the  floor,  wai9  in<^pabie  of  making  any  effort  deservhig  the  name 
^  resistance. 

Shepherd.  Wag  he  no  sorry  and  ashamed,  at  least  for  what  he 
had  dun«  1 

North  No  rriore  than  if  he  had  killed  so  many  rabbits.  He  was 
ready  to  lauf^h,  and  leer,  and  claw  his  elbow,  at  every  question  put 
to  him  which  he  did  not  comprehend,  or  in  which  he  thought  he  heard 
somettting  funny  ;  his  sleep,  he  said,  was  always  sound,  and  that  he 
•'never  dreamed  none;"  he  was  much  tickled  by  the  question, 
"  Did  he  believe  in  ghosts  ?"  or  "  Did  he  ever  see  any  in  the 
dark  !"  and  gobbled  out,  grinning  all  the  while  a  brutal  laugh,  an 
uncouth  expression  of  contempt  for  such  foolery — and  then  mut- 
tering  "  thank  God" — words  he  used  more  than  once — callously, 
and  sullenly,  and  vacantly  as  to  their  meaning,  he  thought^—"  that 
he  had  done  pevjgfat  to  be  afeared  for;"  his  dialect  being  to  our  ears 


Digitized  by 


Google 


234  KOamS  AlIBROSIANiB. 

a  sort  of  slovenly  mixture  of  the  "  lower  than  the  lowest"  Irish,  and 
the  most  brutelike  of  the  most  sunken  "  Cooroberland." 

Shepherd,  Hark  ye,  sir, — ane  likes  to  hear  about  monsters.  Was 
Hare  a  Strang  deevil  incarnate  ? 

North.  Not  very.  Sluggish  and  inert — but  a  heavier  and  more 
muscular  man  above  than  Burke.  He  prided  himself,  however,  on 
his  strength,  and  vaunted  that  he  could  lift  five  sixty-fives,  by  his 
teeth,  fastened  to  a  rope,  and  placed  between  his  knees.  But  it  was 
easy  to  see  he  lied,  and  that  the  anecdote  was  but  a  trait  of  vanity ; 
— the  look  he  had  in  all  things  of  an  abject,  though  perhaps  quarrel- 
some coward — and  his  brows  and  head  had  scars  of  wound  from 
stone  or  shilellah,  such  as  are  to  be  seen  on  the  head  and  brows  of 
many  a  brutal  craven. 

Shepherd.  Did  ye  see  their  leddies  1 

North.  Poor,  miserable,  bony,  skinny,  scranky,  wizened  jades 
both,  without  the  most  distant  approach  to  good-look ingness,  either 
in  any  part  of  their  form,  or  any  feature  of  their  face — peevish, 
sulky,  savage,  and  cruel,  and  evidently  familiar,  from  earliest  life, 
with  all  the  woe  and  wretchedness  of  guilt  and  pollution — most 
mean  in  look,  manner,  mind,  dress — the  very  dregs  of  the  dregs 
of  prostitution.  Hare  has  most  of  the  she-devil.  She  looked  at 
you  brazen-facedly,  and  spoke  with  an  affected  plaintive  voice, 
"gentle  and  low,  an  excellent  thing  in  woman,'^  and  held  her 
yellow,  "yammering"  infant,  (the  image  of  its  father,)  in  her  arm 
—in  prison  we  saw  her — as  if  it  were  a  bundle  of  rags — but  now 
and  then  looking  at  it  with  that  species  of  maternal  fondness,  with 
which  impostors  sit  on  house-steps,  staring  at  their  babies,  as  if  their 
whole  souls  yearned  towards  them — while  no  sooner  have  you 
passed  by,  than  the  angry  beggar  dashes  its  head,  to  make  it  cry 
better,  against  the  pavement 

Tickler.  Prodigious  nonsense,  James,  was  written,  in  the  news- 
papers about  the  "  dens'*  of  the  monsters.  Burke's  room  was  one 
of  the  neatest  and  snuggest  little  places  I  ever  saw — walls  well 
plastered  and  washed — a  good  wood-floor— respectable  fire-place — 
and  light,  well-paned  window,  without  a  single  spider's  web.  You 
reached  the  room  by  going  along  a  comfortable,  and  by  no  means 
dark -passage,  about  fifteen  feet  long— on  each  sido  of  which  was  a 
room  inhabited,  the  one  by  Mrs.  Law,  and  the  other  by  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Ck)nnoway.  Another  short  passage  (with  outer  and  inner  door 
of  course)  turned  off  into  the  dwelling  of  Mr.  Burke — the  only 
possible  way  of  making  it  a  room  by  itself — and  the  character  of 
the  whole  flat  was  that  of  comfort  and  cheerfulness  to  a  degree 
seldom  seen  in  the  dwellings  of  the  poor.  Burke's  room,  therefore, 
so  far  from  being  remote  or  solitary,  or  adapted  to  murder,  was  in 
the  very  heart  of  life,  and  no  more  like  a  den  than  any  other  room 


Digitized  by 


Google 


THB  EZEOUTIOK.  235 

in  Edinburgh — say  that  in  which  we,  who  murder  nobody,  are  now 
sitting  at  supper.  Neither  was  any  other  murder  than  tliat  of 
**  t'ould  woman"  there  perpetrated.  Yet  Sir  Walter  Scott,  it  was 
said,  declared,  that  with  all  his  wonderful  imagination,  he  could 
picture  to  himself  nothing  so  hideous.  Sir  Walter  is  not  given  to 
compliment  his  own  imagination  so— and  if  ever  he  saw  the  room, 
must  have  approved  of  it  as  a  room  of  a  very  comfortable  but 
commonplace  and  unpretending  character. 

Shepherd.  But  isna  Hare's  house  a  dreadfu'  place  ?  I  houp  it  is, 
sir? 

North,  It  is  at  the  bottom  of  a  close — and  I  presume  that  one 
house  must  always  be  at  the  bottom  of  a  close — but  the  flat  above 
Hare's  dwelling  was  inhabited,  and  two  of  his  apartments  are  large 
and  roomy,  well  fitted  for  a  range  of  chaff-beds,  but  not  particularly 
so  for  murder.  A  small  place,  eight  feet  or  ten  by  four  or  five, 
seems  to  have  been  formed  by  the  staircase  of  another  dwelling  and 
the  outer  wall,  and  no  doubt,  were  murder  committed  there,  it  would 
seem  a  murderous  place.  But  we  have  slept  in  such  a  place  fifty 
times,  without  having  been  murdered  ;  and  a  den,  consisting  of  two 
large  rooms,  with  excellent  fire-places  and  windows,  and  one  small 
one,  is  not,  to  our  apprehension,  like  the  den  of  a  fox  or  a  wolf,  nor 
yet  of  a  lion  or  a  tiger.  The  house  outside  looks  like  a  minister's 
manse.     But  I  am  getting  tedious  and  wearisome,  James! 

Shepherd,  No  you.  But  let  us  change  the  subject  a  wee.  I  houp, 
sirs,  you  baith  went  to  the  hanging  ? 

North,  We  intended  to  have  assisted  at  that  ceremony,  and  had 
taken  tickets  in  one  of  the  upper  boxes ;  but  the  morning  was  raw 
and  rainy,  so  we  let  the  fiend  swing  away  into  perdition,  without  any 
visible  or  audible  testimony  of  our  applause. 

Shepherd.  The  congregation  behaved  maist  devootly  ? 

Tickler.  Like  Christians,  James.  Burke,  it  seems,  was  told  to  give 
the  signal  with  the  name  of  his  Saviour  oh  his  lips  !  But  the  con- 
gregation, though  ignorant  of  that  profanation,  knew  that  the  demon, 
even  on  the  scaffold,  endured  neither  remorse  nor  penitence ;  and 
therefore,  natural,  and  just,  and  proper  shouts  of  human  vengeance 
assailed  the  savage  coward,  and  excommunicated  him  from  our  com- 
mon lot  by  yells  of  abhorrence  that  delivered  his  body  over  to  the 
hangman,  and  his  soul  to  Satan.* 

*  No  execution  had  excited  00  xnnch  interest  in  Scotland  for  many  rean.  Sir  Walter  Scott 
thai  chronicled  it  in  hie  Diarr  :— "  finrke,  the  mnrdereff  waa  hanred  tnia  mominr.  The  mob. 
which  was  irajnenee,  demanded  Knox  and  Hare,  bnt  though  freedy  for  more  Tictima,  roceiTed 
with  thovta  tlie  solitary  wretch  who  found  his  way  to  the  Kallows  out  of  fire  or  six  who  seem 
BOt  less  guilty  than  he."  Another  account,  which  I  receired  from  a  person  who  was  present, 
was  that  orer  20,000  perwns  witnessed  the  execution.  When  Burke  appeared  on  the  scaffold 
there  arose  wild  shouts  as  if  from  ten  thousand  simultaneous  roices,  01  ''  Burkt  htm  l—Givt 
Am  1M  revs  —Hamg  tk9  otkert.—  tVktre  art  Knox  OMd  Uare  T"  When  he  waa  turned  off,  a 
load  err  of  joy  rent  the  air.  At  each  conmlsiTe  motion  of  the  body,  in  the  agonies  of  death, 
the  maltitnde  ahontad  their  delight,— huzxaing  as  if  for  a  Tiotory.  When  the  body  of  the  eriin* 


Digitized  by 


Google 


236  KOCTBB  AHBBOfiUKJB. 

Shepherd.  Yet  a  puir,  senseless,  heartless  driYeller  in  the  Cotmint, 
I  observed,  writing  for  a  penny  a  line,  sympatheezed  with  the 
Throttler,  and  daur*d  to  abuse  that  pious  congregation  as  a  ferocious 
mob.  Yea !  the  pitiful  hypocrite  absolutely  called  bloody  Burke 
"their  victim"!! 

Tickler.  The  whining  cur  deserved  to  be  half*hanged  for  his  oant^ 
and  resuscitated  to  his  senses  in  Dr.  Knox's  shambles.  That  con- 
gregation of  twenty  thousand  souls  was  the  most  respectable  evev 
assembled  at  an  execution  ;  and  had  they  stood  mute  at  a  moment 
when  nature  demanded  they  should  salute  the  monster  with  curses 
both  loud  and  deep,  they  would  have  been  traitors  to  the  trust  con- 
fided to  every  human  heart,  and  brutally  insensible  to  the  "  deep 
damnation  of  their  taking  ofl^"  whom  week  after  week  "  the  victim** 
had  smothered  with  those  fingers  now  clutched  in  prayer,  forsooth, 
but  at  home  and  free  from  awkwardness  only  when  engaged  in  mur- 
der ;  and  then  uniting  a  delicacy  with  a  strength  of  touch  deoi^yely 
indicative  of  the  hand  of  a  master. 

Shepherd.  Independently  o'  a'  you  hae  sae  weel  said,  sir,  only  think 
o'  the  satisfaction  o'  safety  to  the  whole  city**a  selfish  but  uaeo 
natural  satisfaction — in  riddance  o'  the  monster.  Had  he  no  beea 
found  out,  wha  mightna  hae  been  Burked,  Bared,  Maodougal'd,  and 
Knoxed,  during  the  current  year  ? 

North.  James  Hogg,  to  a  dead  certainty.  ■ 

Shepherd.  Poo!  Puir  folk  thocht  o'  themselves  in  the  &te  o'  the 
saxteen  corpses — o'  their  fathers  and  mithers,  and  aibllns  idiot  brith* 
ers  or  sisters — and  therefore  they  hissed  and  shouted,  and  waved 
their  hauns  and  hats  aboon  their  heads,  as  soon  as  the  carcass  o'  the 
ruflian  blackened  on  the  scaffold. 

Tickler.  And  the  beautiful  and  eternal  fitness  of  things  was  exem- 
pli 6  ed  to  their  souls'  full  desires,  in  the  rope  dangling  over  his  organ 
of  destructiveness  — 

North.  In  the  knot  &st«ned — I  was  glad  to  hear— ^bdiind  his  neek 
to  keep  him  in  pain  -^ 

Shepherd.  In  Hangy's  allooin'  him  only  three  inches  o*  a  fa'-^-- 

Tickler,  In  the  funny  fashion  of  his  nightcap — put  on  betwesa 
eight  and  nine  in  the  morning,  when  other  people  have  taken  theirs 

Shepherd.  And  feenally,  in  that  consummating  swings  "  here  we 
go  round  about,  round  about" — and  that  drawin'  up  o*  the  knees, 
that  tells  death's  doure-r-and  the  labor  o'  the  lungs  in  agony,  whea 

inftl  hung  motionlMs  from  Uia  nllewa,  txwfX  m  it  wu  Madnloosly  swafed  to  fcad  fro  \j 
the  wind  or  itp  own  w«if  ht,  dalight,  iaitead  of  aw*>stni6k  horror,  appoarod  to  moro  tho  tkoa- 
aanda  who  gaxcd  ftt  it.  At  la»t,  whea  the  bodf  wm  out  down,  there  burti  three  olueimef 
he&rtj  applvuM  from  aU,  and  if  ever  th«  Laat  miaiatar  of  the  law  ware  ]M>p«ki^  it  w|m  at  thai 
n  unent.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


TBB  TRIAL.  287 

you  can  breathe  neither  through  mouth  nor  nostrils,  and  a'  your  in* 
side  is  workin'  like  a  barmy  barrel. 

North.  Did  the  Courant  idiot  expect  that  the  whole  congregation 
were  to  have  melted  into  tears  at  the  pathetic  appearance  of  ''  their 
victim  1"  The  Scottish  people — and  it  was  an  assemblage  of  the 
Scottish  people — are  not  such  slaves  of  the  hour.  They  will  not 
suffer  the  voice  of  deep-abhorring  nature  to  be  stifled  within  them  by 
the  decencies  due  to  a  hideous  man-monster  under  the  hands  of  the 
hangman.  Priests  may  pray,  and  magistrates  may  beckon,  as  in 
duty  bound ;  but  the  waves  of  the  sea  "  flowed  not  back  when  Canute 
gave  command  '* ;  and,  in  spite  of  clerical  and  lay  authorities,  the 
people  behaved  in  every  way  worthy  of  their  national  character. 

Shepherd,  Then  think  o'  sympathy,  sir,  workin'  in  the  power  o' 
antipathy — twenty  thousand  sowles  a'  inflamed  wi*  ae  passion — ancl 
that  passion  eye-fed  even  to  gloatin'  and  gluttony  by  the  sight  o* 
•*  their  victim."  O,  shrs,  hoo  men^s  sowles  fiver  through  their  een  I 
la  love  or  hate  — 

Tickler.  I  am  credibly  informed,  James,  that  several  blind  men 
went  to  see  Burke  hanged. 

Shepherd.  That  was  real  curious.  They  had  kent  intuitively,  you 
see,  that  there  was  to  be  a  tremendous  shootin'.  They  went  to 
hear  him  hanged.  But  what  for  had  na  ye  a  lang  article  embraoin' 
the  subject  ? 

North.  The  Edinburgh  newspapers,  especially  the  Mercury  and 
Chronicle,  were  bO  powerful  and  picturesque,  that  really,  Jamea, 
nothing  was  left  for  me  to  say ;  besides,  I  did  not  see  how  I  could 
with  propriety  interfere  with  the  wish  to  hang  Hare,  or  any  one 
else  implicated  in  the  sixteen  murders;  and  therefore,  during  law 
proceedings,  meditated,  or  attempted,  I  kept  mute.  All  these  being 
now  at  an  end,  my  mouth  may  be  unsealed ;  but,  at  present,  I  have 
really  little  to  say  on  the  sixteen  subjects. 

Shepherd.  Weel,  let's  hear  that  little. 

North.  First  and  foremost,  the  Lord  Advocate  and  Sherifi^,  and 
all  the  lawyers  of  the  town,  did  their  duty  thoroughly  and  fearlessly ; 
and  so  did  all  the  lawyers  for  their  prisoners,  Messrs.  Moncriefi^ 
Cockbum,  Macneil,  Robertson,  and  others ;  and  so  did  the  jury. 
The  jury  might,  with  safe  conscience,  have  found  Macdougal  guilty  ; 
but  with  a  safe  conscience,  they  found  the  libel  in  her  case,  Not 
Proven.    They  did  what,  on  the  whole,  was  perhaps  best. 

Shepherd.  I  doot  that. 

TickUr.  So  do  I. 

North.  So  perhaps  did  they  ;  but  let  her  live.  Death  is  one  pun- 
ishment. Life  another.  In  admitting  Hare  to  be  king's  evidence, 
the  Lord  Advocate  did  that  which  alone  could  have  brought  Burke  to 
the  gallows.     Otherwise,  the  whole  gang  would  have  escaped,  and 


Digitized  by 


Google 


238  KOOTES  AMBBOSIANJB. 

might  have  been  at  murder  this  very  night.  In  including  the  thyee 
charges  in  one  indictment,  his  lordship  was  influenced  solely  by  that 
feeling  for  the  prisoners,  which  a  humane  and  enlightened  man  may 
entertain  even  for  the  most  atrocious  criminal,  consistently  with  jus- 
tice. Their  counsel  chose  otherwise,  and  the  event  was  the  same. 
The  attempt  to  try  Hare,  at  first  appeared  to  me  infamous ;  but  in 
that  I  showed  my  ignorance,  for  Mr.  Sand  ford  made  out  a  strong 
case  ;  but  Mr.  Macneil's  masterly  argument  was  irresistible,  and  the 
decision  of  the  judges  entirely  right — although  I  do  not  say  that  the 
view  of  the  law  so  ably  given  by  Lords  Alio  way  and  Gillies  was 
wrong.  As  to  any  wish  in  any  quarter  to  shape  the  proceedings  so 
as  to  shield  Dr.  Knox,  that  idea  is  mere  childishness  and  absurdity, 
and  fit  only  for  the  old  women  whom  Burke  and  Hare  did  not  mur- 
der. 

Shepherd,  I'm  glad  to  hear  o*  that,  sir ;  and  since  you  say't,  it 
maun  be  true.     But  what  o'  Dr.  Knox  ? 

North,  The  system  established  and  acted  on  in  the  dissecting- 
rooms  of  that  anatomist  is  manifestly  of  the  most  savage,  brutal, 
and  dreadful  character.  It  is  allowed  by  all  parlies,  that  not  a  sin- 
gle question  was  ever  put — or  if  ever,  mere  mockery — to  the 
wretches  who  came  week  after  week  with  uninterred  bodies 
crammed  into  tea-chests — but  that  each  corpse  was  eagerly  received, 
and  fresh  orders  issued  for  more.  Nor  is  there  any  reason  to  be- 
lieve, but  ev^ry  reason  to  believe  the  contrary,  that  had  the  mui^ 
derers  brought  sixty  instead  of  sixteen  murdered  corpses,  they 
would  not  have  met  an  instant  market. 

Shepherd.  Fearsome — fearsome  ! 

Tickler,  We  shall  suppose,  then,  that  not  a  shade,  however  slight, 
of  suspicion  ever  crossed  Dr.  Knox's  mind,  or  the  minds  of  his 
assistants.  What  follows?  That  they  knew  that  tlie  poorer  inhab- 
itants of  Edinburgh  were  all  of  them  not  only  willing,  but  most 
eager  to  sell  the  bodies  of  their  husbands,  wives,  brothers,  and  sis- 
ters, and  sweethearts,  and  relations  in  general :  for  if  these  two 
miscreants  could,  in  little  more  than  eight  months,  purchase  from 
off  the  deathbed  sixteen  corpses,  pray  how  many  might  have  been 
purchased  in  that  time  by  a  sufficient  number  of  agents  1  Unless 
the  practice  of  selling  the  dead  were  almost  universal,  and  known  by 
Dr.  Knox  and  his  assistants  to  be  so,  uninterred  body  after  unin- 
terred body  brought  to  them  thus  must  have  struck  them  with  sur- 
prise and  astonishment.* 

*  Dr.  Robert  Tomes,  of  New  York,  irko  etndied  medicine  and  stir^erj  at  Edinbtu-^h,  (1839- 
1840)  and  associated  with  many  medical  men  who  (as  connected  with  their  own  profession.) 
had  full  knowledge  of,  and  fieqnentlj  conTersed  about,  these  occurrences,  then  comparatiTely 
recent,  has  been  so  obiiginjr  as  to  correct  my  general  recollection  by  hts  own  more  minute  and 
recant  information.  Dr.  Robert  Knox,  who  resided  at  10  Surgeon  Square,  Edinburgh,  had 
one  of  the  most  extensire  prirate  anatomical  collections  in  Europe.  He  was  an  admirable 
demonstrator,  as  a  lecturer  on  anatomy  has  had  few  equals,  and  his  class  was  the  largest 


Digitized  by 


Google 


DB.   KNOX.  239 

Shepherd,  That's  ooncliisive,  sir. 

North,  How,  in  the  nature  of  things,  could  Burke  and  Hare  have 
been  believed  endowed  with  an  instinct  that  led  thera  to  sixteen  dif- 
ferent houses  in  eight  months,  where  the  inmates  were  ready  to  sell 
their  dead  to  the  doctors  ?  Did  Dr.  Knox  and  his  assistants  believe 
that  these  two  wretches  were  each  like  a  vulture— 

*<  So  scented  the  Grim  Feature,  and  uptom'd 
His  Dostril  wide  into  the  murky  air, 
Sagacious  of  his  quarry  from  afiir  " — 

tbat  they  dropped  in  at  every  sick-room,  and  sounded  the  sitters  by 
the  dying  bed,  to  know  if  they  were  disposed  in  the  event  of  death, 
for  a  few  pounds  to  let  the  corpse  be  crammed  into  a  tea-chest,  and 
off  to  the  doctors  1 

Shepherd,  I  canna  say ;  but  they  can  best  answer  the  question 
themsells  — 

North,  Ay,  and  they  shall  be  made  to  answer  the  question,/or  the 
eubject  shall  be  probed  to  the  bottom^  nor  shall  either  fear  or  favor  hin- 
der ine  from  spreading  the  result  all  over  Europe. 

Shepherd.  Ay,  America,  Asia,  and  Africa  too 

North,  The  Edinburgh  papers  have  spoken  out  manfully,  and  Dr. 
Knox  stands  arraigned  at  the  bar  of  the  public,  his  accuser  being — 
Human  Nature. 

Shepherd,  Of  what  is  he  accused  ? 

North,  He  is  ordered  to  open  his  mouth  and  speak,  or  be  for  ever 
dumb.  Sixteen  uninterred  bodies — for  the  present  1  sink  the  word 
murdered — have  been  purchased,  within  nine  months,  by  him  and 
his,  from  the  two  brutal  wretches  who  lived  by  that  trade.  Let  him 
prove,  to  the  conviction  of  all  reasonable  men,  that  it  was  impossible 
ne  could  suspect  any  evil, — that  the  practice  of  selling  the  dead  was 

in  the  -world.  It  was  necessary  that  he  should  have  a  constant  supply  of  subjects.  The  law, 
•a  it  then  stood,  (it  has  since  been  altered,)  threw  impediments  in  his  way  as  to  obtaining  his 
supply.  It  is  aoubtful  whether  he  really  had  any  suspicion  of  the  unfair  means  by  which 
Burke  and  Hare  came  in  possession  of  so  many  dead  bodies,  in  such  an  unwonted  condition  of 
freshness.  Mr.  Eilis^  his  own  lawyer,  stated  (years  after  the  execution  of  Burke,)  that  he,  ton 
one,  acquitted  Dr.  Knox  of  any  guilt,  arising  from  complicity.  But^  on  one  occasion  oo 
showing  a  subject  to  a  friend,  Knox  said,  '*There*s  a  body  that  nerer  touched  ground.*' 
Knox's  bouse  was  gutted  by  the  mob  during  the  excitement  caused  by  the  discorerr  of  tha 
Burke  and  Hare  murder.  He  continued  in  Edinburgh  for  sereral  years  after  this,  but  noi 
without  haTinjp  suffered  considerably  in  his  reputation,  although  his  popularity  with  his  pn- 

i>ils  was  undiminished.  He  finally  migrated  to  London,  where  he  became  a  sort  of  itinerant 
•cturer— chiefly  on  Ethnology.  I  am  turther  indebted  to  Dr.  Tomes,  who  studied  under  him, 
for  the  information  that  Koox  was  of  middle-sized  stature,  meagre  in  person,  and  with  a  sinia- 
ter  expression  of  countenance  arising  from  the  loss  of  an  e]^e  ;  that  his  face  was  rough  like  a 
■utmeg-grater ;  his  countenance  flexible,  and  not  deficient  in  expression  ;  his  mouth  curiously 
puckered  up.  As  a  lecturer  he  was  accustomed  (like  Abernethy  of  London,)  to  use  the  most 
Qimiliar  lancuage.  His  Toice  was  full  and  clear ;  his  illustrations  striking  from  their  rorr 
limpUolty.  He  had  rast  professional  knowledge,  and  the  power  ol  readily  communicating  it 
to  other*.  His  attire  was  rery  unprofessional— getierallT  in  the  jockey  style,  with  a  smart 
nock-tie,  a  flashy  rest,  and  a  cut-arway  coat.  In  1828,  the  time  of  the  erimos  which  gave  his 
name  so  much  notoriety,  Dr.  Knox  was  not  forty  yean  old.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


S40  KOCTES  AMBBOSIAJ^iB. 

80  general,  as  to  be  almost  universal  among  the  poor  of  this  citj, — 
and  that  he  knew  it  to  be  so~-and  then  we  shall  send  his  vindication 
abroad  on  all  the  winds  of  heaven. 

IHckler.  Does  he  dare  to  presume  to  command  all  mankind  to  be 
mute  on  such  a  series  of  dreadful  transactions?  Does  he  not  know 
that  he  stands,  at  this  hour,  in  the  most  hideous  predicament  in 
which  a  man  can  stand — in  that  of  the  suspected  accomplice  or  en- 
courager  of  unparalleled  murderers? 

North,  If  wholly  and  entirely  innocent,  he  need  not  fear  that  he 
shall  be  able  to  establish  his  innocence.  Give  me  the  materials,  and 
I  will  do  it  for  him  ;  but  he  is  not  now  the  victim  of  some  wild  and 
foolish  calumny;  the  whole  world  shudders  at  the  transactions ;  and 
none  but  a  base,  blind,  brutal  beast  can  at  this  moment  dare  to  de- 
clare "  Dr.  Knox  stands  free  from  all  suspicion  of  being  accessory 
to  murder." 

Shepherd,  Your  offer  to  vindicate  him  is  like  yourself,  sir, — and 
tis  like  yourself  to  utter  the  sentiments  that  have  now  flowed  from 
your  fearless  lips. 

North,  If  innocent,  still  he  caused  those  murders.  But  for  the 
accursed  system  he  and  his  assistants  acted  on,  only  two  or  three 
experimental  murders  would  have  been  perpetrated — unless  we 
must  believe  that  other — ^nay,  all  other  lecturers  would  have  done 
as  he  did,  which,  in  nriy  belief,  would  be  wickedly  to  belie  the  charac- 
ter of  our  anatomists. 

Shepherd,  Is't  true  that  his  class  received  him,  in  consequence  of 
these  horrid  disclosures,  with  three  cheers? 

North.  Though  almost  incredible,  it  is  true.  But  that  savage  yell 
within  those  blood-stained  walls,  is  no  more  to  the  voice  of  the 
public,  than  so  much  squeaking  and  grunting  in  a  pig-sty  during  a 
storm  of  thunder.  Besides,  many  of  those  who  thus  disgraced 
themselves  and  their  human  nature,  were  implicated  in  the  charge; 
and  instead  of  serving  to  convince  any  one,  out  of  the  shambles,  of 
their  own  or  their  lecturer's  innocence,  it  has  had,  and  must  have 
had,  the  very  opposite  effect — exhibiting  a  ruffian  recklessness  of 
general  opinion  and  feeling  on  a  most  appalling  subject,  as  yet  alto- 
gether unexplained,  and,  as  many  think,  incapable  of  any  explana- 
tion that  will  remove  ^om  the  public  mind,  even  in  its  calmest 
mood,  the  most  horrible  and  damning  suspicions.  The  shouts  and 
cheers  at  Burke's  appearance  on  the  scaffold,  were  right — human 
nature  being  constituted  as  it  is— but  the  shouts  and  cheers  on  Dr. 
Knox's  appearance  at  the  table  where  so  many  of  Burke's  victims 
had  been  dissected,  after  having  been  murdered,  were  "  horrible, 
most  horrible,"  and  calculated — whatever  may  be  their  effect  on 
more  thinking  minds— to  confirm  in  those  of  the  populace  the  con- 
viction that  they  are  all  a  gang  of  murderers  together,  and  deter* 


Digitized  by 


Google 


8TJMMSB.  241 

fnined  to  insalt,  in  horrid  exaltation,  all  the  deepest  feelings  of  hu- 
manity— without  which  a  people  would  be  a  mob  more  fierce  and 
fell  than  the  concentrated  essence  of  the  Burkes,  the  Hares,  and  the 
Macdougals. 

Shepherd.  Ae  thing's  plain — ^that  whatever  may  be  the  case  wi' 
ither  anatomists,  here  or  elsewhere,  Dr.  Knox  at  least  has  nae  right 
to  ca'  on  the  legislature  for  some  legal  provision  for  the  procurin  o* 
dead  bodies  for  dissection.  The  legislature,  on  the  ither  hand,  has 
a  better  right  to  ea'  on  him  for  a  revision  o'  the  laws  regulatin'  his 
ain  system.  Some  writers,  I  see,  blame  the  magistrates  o'  Edin- 
burgh, and  some  the  polish,  aud  some  the  London  Parliament  House, 
for  a'  thae  murders — but  I  canna  help  blamin',  especially,  Burke  and 
Hare — and  neist  to  them  Dr.  Knox  and  his  assistants.  Naebody 
believes  in  ghosts  in  touns,  but  every  body  believes  in  ghosts  in  the 
kintra.  Let  either  Hare  or  Knox  sleep  a'  night  in  a  lanely  wood, 
wi'  the  wund  roarin'  in  the  tap  branches  o'  the  pines,  and  cheepin  in 
the  side  anes,  and  by  skreich  o'  day  he  will  be  seen  flyin'  wi'  his 
hair  on  end,  and  his  een  jumpin'  out  o'  their  sockets,  doon  into  the 
nearest  toon,  pursued,  as  he  thinks,  by  saxteen  ghaists  a'  in  a  row 
wi'  Dafl  Jamie  at  their  head,  caperin'  like  a  paralytic  as  he  was, 
and  lauching  like  to  split,  wi'  a  mouth  drawn  a'  to  the  ae  side,  at  the 
doctor  or  the  doctor's  man,  distracted  at  the  sicht  o'  sae  mony  spirits 
demandin'  back  their  ain  atomies. 

North,  It  is  an  ugly  business  altogether,  James ;  &r  worse  than 
the  Chaldean  MS. 

Shepherd.  Ah !  you  deevil ! 

Tickler,  Hollow,  North,  into  Uie  ear  of  Dionysius,  that  Ambrose 
BUty  appear  like  a  spirit,  and  sweep  away  reliquiat  Danaum, 

North,  Man  is  the  slave  of  habit.  So  accustomed  have  I  been  to 
pull  this  worsted  bell-rope,  that  I  never  remember  the  ear.  Am- 
brose !  Ambrose  !  Ho  iero  /  {Enter  Signor  Ambkosio.) 

Tickler,  Picardy,  wheel  out,  and  wheel  in. 

(PiCARDT  and  Sir  DAVin  Gam  wheel  out  the  oblong  Supper- 
Table  through  the  Foldhig-Doora^  and  the  Circular  Glentili 
Marble  Slab  into  a  warmer  climate.) 

Shepherd,  In  another  month,  sirs,  the  Forest  will  be  as  green  as 
the  summer  sea  rolling  in  its  foam-crested  waves  in  moonlight.  You 
maun  com^  out.     You  maun  baith  come  out  this  spring. 

North.  I  will.  Every  breath  of  air  we  draw  is  terrestrial ized  or 
etherealized  by  imagination.  Our  suburban  air,  round  about  Edin- 
burgh, especially  down  towards  the  sea,  must  be  pure,  James ;  and 
yet,  my  fancy  being  haunted  by  these  easterly  haars,  the  finest 
atmosphere  often  seems  to  me  afloat  with  the  foulest  atoms.  My 
mouth  is  as  a  vortex,  that  engulfe  all  the  stray  wool  and  feathers  in 
Vol.  III.— 17 


Digitized  by 


Google 


242  M0CTE8  AMBBOSIANiB. 

the  \icinity.  In  the  country,  and  nowhere  more  than  on  the  Tweed 
or  the  Yarrow,  J  inhale  always  the  gas  of  Paradise.  I  look  about 
nie  for  flowers,  and  I  see  none — but  feel  the  breath  of  thousands. 
Country  smoke  from  cottages  or  kilns,  or  burning  heather,  is  not 
like  town  smoke.  It  ascends  into  clouds  on  which  angels  and  de- 
parted spirits  may  repose. 

Shepherd.  O'  a'  kintra  souns, which  do  you  like  best,  sir? 

North,  The  crowing  of  cocks  before,  at,  and  after  sunrise.  They 
are  like  clocks  all  set  by  the  sun.  Some  hoarsely  scrauching, 
James — some  with  a  long,  clear,  silver  chime — and  now  and  then  a 
bit  bantam  crowing  twice  for  the  statelier  chanticleer's  once — and, 
by  fancy's  eye,  seen  strutting  and  sidling  up,  in  his  impudence,  to 
hens  of  the  largest  size,  not  unaverse  to  the  flirtation  of  the  feathery- 
legged  coxcomb. 

Shepherd,  Few  folk  hae  seen  oflener  than  me  Natur*  gettin'  up 
i'  the  iiiornin'.  It's  no  possible  to  help  personifyin'  her  first  into  a 
goddess,  and  then  into  a  human  — 

Tickler,  There  again,  James. 

Shepherd,  She  sleeps  a'  nicht  in  her  claes,  yet  they're  never 
runkled  ;  her  awakening  face  she  turns  up  dewy  to  the  sun,  and 
Zephyr  wipes  it  wi'  his  wing  without  disturbin'  its  dreamy  expres- 
sion ;  never  see  ye  her  hair  in  papers,  for  crisp  and  curly,  far- 
streamin'  and  wide-wavin'  are  her  locks,  as  alternate  shadows  and 
sunbeams  dancin'  on  the  dancin'  music  o*  some  joyous  river  rollin* 
awa  to  the  far-aflf  sea ;  her  ee  is  heaven — her  brow  the  marbled 
clouds,  and  afler  a  lang  doon-gazing,  serene  and  spiritual  look  o' 
hersell,  breathin'  her  orison-prayers,  in  the  reflectin'  magic  o'  some 
loch  like  an  inland  ocean,  stately  steps  she  frae  the  East,  and  a'  that 
meet  her — mair  especially  the  Poet,  wha  draps  doon  amid  the 
heather  in  devotion  on  his  knees — kens  that  she  is  indeed  the  Queen 
of  the  whole  Universe. 

Tickler.  Incedit  Regina. 

North,  Then  what  a  breakfast  at  Mount  Benger,  after  a  stroll  to 
and  fro'  the  Loch !  One  devours  the  most  material  breakfast 
spiritually  ;  and  none  of  the  ethereal  particles  are  lost  in  such  a 
meal. 

Shepherd.  Ethereal  particles  !     What  are  they  like  1 

North,  Of  the  soul,  James.  Wordsworth  says,  in  his  own  beau- 
tiful way,  of  a  sparrow's  nest, 

**  Look,  five  blue  eggs  are  gleaming  there  1 
Few  vieioDB  have  1  seen  more  fair, 
Nor  many  prospect«  of  delight 
More  touchiog  than  that  simple  sight  T 

But  five  or  six,  or  perhaps  a  dozen,  white  hen-eggs  gleaming  there — 


Digitized  by 


Google 


THE  FLOWEB  OF  THE  F0RE8T.  243 

all  on  a  most  lovely,  a  most  beautiful,  a  most  glorious  round  white 
plate  of  crockery — is  a  sight  even  more  simple  and  more  touching 
still. 

Tickler.  What  a  difference  between  caller  eggs  and  caller 
haddies! 

North,  About  the  same  as  between  a  rural  lassie  stepping  along 
the  greensward,  like  a  walking  rose  or  lily  endued  with  life  by  the 
touch  of  a  fairy's  wand,  and  a  lodging-house  Girrzzie  laying  down  a 
bakie  fu'  o'  ashes  at  the  mouth  of  a  common  stair. 

Shepherd,  North — you're  a  curious  cretur. 

Tickler,  You  must  excuse  him — for  he  is  getting  into  his  pleasant 
though  somewhat  prosy  dotage. 

Shepherd,  A'  men  begin  to  get  into  a  kind  o'  dotage  after  five- 
and-twenty.  They  think  theirsells  wiser,  but  they're  only  stupider. 
The  glory  o'  the  heaven  and  earth  has  a'  flown  by  ;  there's  some- 
thing gane  wrang  wi'  the  machinery  o'  the  peristrephic  panorama, 
and  it'll  no  gang  roun' — nor  is  there  ony  great  matter,  for  the 
colors  hae  faded  on  the  canvas,  and  the  spirit  that  pervaded  the 
picture  is  dead. 

Tickler,  Poo,  poo,  James.    You're  haver  in. 

North,  Do  you  think,  my  dear  James,  that  there  is  less  religion 
now  than  of  old  in  Scotland  ? 

Shepherd,  I  really  canna  say,  sir.  At  times  1  think  there  is  even 
less  sunshine  ;  at  least,  that  a'  that  intensely  bricht  kind  of  heavenly 
licht  that  used  to  wauken  me  in  the  mornings  when  a  boy,  by 
dancin'  on  my  face,  is  extinct,  or  withdrawn  to  anither  planet ;  and 
yet  reason  serves  to  convince  me  that  the  sun  canna  be  muckle  the 
waur  o'  haen  been  shining  these  forty  last  years  o'  his  life,  and  that 
the  fault  maun  lie  in  the  pupil  o'  the  iris  o'  my  twa  auld  hazy  een 
— ^neither  can  I  see  cause  why  dew-draps  and  blaeberries  should  be 
less  beautifu'  than  o'  yore,  though  certain  sure  they  seem  sae — and 
warst  o'  a',  the  faces  o'  the  fairest  maidens,  whether  in  smiles  or  in 
tears,  seem  noo-a-days  to  want  that  inexpressible  spirit  o'  joy  or 
grief — a  loveliness  breathed  on  them  from  climes  and  regions  afar 
— that  used  to  gar  my  heart  quake  within  me  whenever  I  came 
within  the  balm  o'  their  breath,  or  the  waving  o'  their  hair — yet  J 
wad  fain  believe,  for  the  sake  o'  the  Flowers  o'  the  Forest,  that  rapt 
youth  still  sees  the  beauty  that  some  film  or  other  tiow  veils  from 
my  eyes. 

Tickler,  Hem  ! 

Shepherd,  And  which  they  must  see  nevermore,  till  after  the  shades 
o'  death  they  reopen  with  renovated  power  in  heaven.  Auld  folk, 
I  remember,  in  my  youth,  were  aye  complainin'  o'  some  great  loss 
— some  total  taking  away — some  dim  eclipse — just  as  we,  sirs,  aften 
do  now — then  I  lauched  to  hear  them,  but  now  I  could  amaist  weep ! 


Digitized  by 


Google 


244  NOCrBfl  AKBSOBIAN^. 

Alas !  even  memory  o'  the  Trysting  Hour  is  but  a  dream  of  a 
dream  !  But  >^hat  a  dream  it  was !  I  never  see  '*  a  milk-white 
thorn"  without  fa'in*  into  a  strange  swoon  o'  the  soul,  as  if  she  were 
struggling  to  renew  her  youth,  and  swarf 'd  awa'  in  the  unavailing 
effort  to  renew  the  mysterious  laws  o'  natur. 

North,  I  fear  there  is  less  superstition  now,  James,  in  the  pea- 
sant's heart  than  of  old — that  the  understanding  has  invaded  the 
glimmering  realms  of  the  imagination. 

Shepherd.  Tak  ony  religious  feeling,  and  keep  intensifying  it  by 
the  power  o'  solitary  meditation,  and  you  feel  it  growin*  into  a 
superstitious  ane — and  in  like  manner  get  deeper  and  deeper  into 
the  heart  o'  the  mystery  o'  a  superstitious  ane,  and  you  then  dis- 
cover it  to  be  religious !  Mind  being  nursed  in  matter  must  aye  be 
superstitious.  Superstition  is  like  the  gloom  round  a  great  oak 
tree.  Religion  is  like  the  tree  itsell-~darkenin'  the  earth  wi' 
branches  growin'  by  means  o'  the  licht  o'  heaven. 

North,  I  fear  Christianity,  James,  is  too  often  taught  merely  as  a 
system  of  morals. 

Shepherd.  That's  the  root  o'  the  evil,  sir,  where  there  is  evil  in 
Scotland.  Such  ministers  deaden,  by  their  plain,  practical  preaching, 
the  sublimest  aspirations  of  the  soul — and  thus  is  the  Bible  in  the 
poor  man's  house  often  "  shorn  of  its  beams.*'  There  is  mair 
sleepin'  in  kirks  noo  than  of  old — though  the  sermons  are  shorter — 
and  the  private  worship  throughout  all  the  parish  insensibly  loses 
its  unction  aneath  a  cauld-rife  moral  preacher.  Many  fountains  are 
shut  up  in  men's  hearts  that  used  to  flow  perennially  to  the  touch  o' 
fear.  It's  a  salutary  state  aye  to  feel  anesell,  when  lefl  to  anesellj 
a  helpless  sinner.  How  pride  hardens  a'  the  heart !  and  how  hu^ 
mility  saflens  it!  till  like  a  meadow  it  is  owerrun  wi'  thousands  o* 
bonnie  wee  modest  flowers — flock  succeeding  flock,  and  aye  some 
visible,  peepin'  ever  through  the  winter  snaws ! 

North.  I  fear,  James,  that  a  sort  of  silly  superflcial  religion  is 
diffusing  itself  very  widely  over  Edinburgh. 

Shepherd.  Especially,  which  is  a  pity,  over  the  young  leddies, 
who  are  afraid  to  wear  feathers  on  their  heads,  or  pearlins  on  their 
bosoms — sae  great  is  the  sin  o'  adornin'  the  flesh. 

North.  The  self-dubbed  evangelicals  are  not  very  consistent  on 
that  score,  James — for  saw  ye  ever  one  of  the  set  to  whom  nature 
had  given  good  ankles  that  did  not  wear  rather  shortish  petticoats; 
or  one  gummy,  that  did  not  carefully  conceal  her  clumsiness  alike 
from  saint  and  sinner  f 

Shepherd.  Puir  things !  natur'  will  work  within  them — and  even 
them  that  forsakes  the  warld,  as  they  ca't,  hae  a  gude  stomach  for 
some  o'  the  grossest  o'  its  enjoyments,  sic  as  eatin'  and  drinkin',  and 


Digitized  by 


Google 


FEMALB  BXEDING.  245 

lyin'  on  sofas  or  in  bed  a*  day,  in  a  sort  o'  sensual  doze,  which  they 
pretend  to  think  spiritual — forsakin'  the  warld,  indeed  ! 

North,  I  never  yet  knew  one  instance  of  a  truly  pretty  girl  for- 
saking the  world,  except,  perhaps,  that  her  hair  might  have  time  to 
grow,  after  having  been  shaven  in  a  fever — or  — 

Shepherd,  Or  a  sudden  change  o'  fashion,  when  she  cudna  afford 
to  buy  new  things,  and  therefore  pretended  to  be  unusually  religious 
for  a  season — wearyin*  a'  the  time  for  the  sicht  o*  some  male  cretur 
in  her  suburban  retirement,  were  it  only  for  the  face  o'  the  young 
baker  wha  brings  the  baps  in  the  morning  wi'  a  hairy  cap  on — or 
some  swarth  Italian  callant  wi*  a  board  o*  images. 

Tickler,  Yes — religious  ladies  never  recollect  that  eating  for  the 
sake  of  eating,  and  not  for  mere  nourishment,  is  the  grossest  of  all 
sensualities.  It  never  occurs  to  them  that  in  greedily  and  glut> 
tonously  cramming  in  fat  things  down  their  gratified  gullets,  they 
are  at  each  mouthful  virtually  breaking  all  the  ten  commandments. 

North,  All  washed  over  with  ale  and  porter! 

Shepherd.  Into  ane  stomach  like  the  Dead  Sea.    Maist  nauseous  ! 

Tickler,  Salmon,  hodge-podge,  peas  and  pork,  goose  and  apple^ 
sauce,  plum-pudding  and  toasted  cheese,  all  floating  in  a  squash  of 
malt  in  the  stomach  of  an  evangelical  young  lady,  who  has  forsaken 
the  world ! 

Shepherd,  There's  nae  denying  that  maist  o'  them's  gutsy.  But 
the  married  evangelical  leddies  are  waur  than  the  young  anes ;  for 
they  egg  on  their  husbands  to  be  as  great  gluttons  as  themselves; 
and  I've  seen  them  noddin'  and  winkin',  and  makin'  mouths  to  theii* 
men,  that  sic  or  sic  a  dish  was  nice  and  fine,  wi'  the  gravy  a'  the 
while  runnin'  out  o'  the  corners  o'  their  mouths;  or  if  no  the  gravy, 
just  the  natural  juice  o'  their  ain  palates  waterin'  at  the  thocht  o' 
something  savory,  just  as  the  chops  o'  Bronte  there  water  when  ho 
sits  up  on  his  hinder  end,  and  gies  a  lang  laigh  yowl  for  the  fat  tail 
o'  a  roasted  leg  o'  mutton. 

North,  In  youngish  evangelical  married  people,  who  have  in  a 
great  measure  forsaken  the  world,  such  behavior  makes  me  squeaniish, 
and  themselves  excessively  greasy  over  their  whole  face ;  so  greasy 
indeed,  that  it  is  next  to  a  physical  impossibility  to  wash  it,  the 
water  running  off  it  as  off  oilskin. 

Tickler.  Byron  it  was,  I  think,  who  did  not  like  to  see  women 
eat.  Certainly  I  am  so  far  an  Oriental  that  I  do  not  like  to  see  a 
woman  eat  against  her  husband,  as  if  it  were  for  a  wager.  Her 
eyes,  during  feed,  should  not  seem  starting  from  their  sockets  ;  nor 
the  veins  in  her  fbrehead  to  swell  in  sympathy  with  her  alimentary 
canal ;  nor  the  sound  of  her  grinders  to  be  high ;  nor  loud  masti- 
cation to  be  followed  by  louder  swallow :  nor  ought  she,  when  the 
"  fames  edendi"  has  been  removed,  to  gather  herself  up  like  mine 


Digitized  by 


Google 


246  NOCTE8   AMBROSIAN^. 

hostess'  of  the  Hen  and  Chickens,  and  giving  herself  a  shake,  then 
fold  hnr  red-ringed  paws  across  her  well-filled  stomach,  and  give 
vent  to  her  entire  satisfaction  in  a  long,  deep,  pious  sigh,  by  way  of 
grace  ailer  meat. 

North,  The  essence  of  religion  is  its  spirituality.  It  refines — 
purifies — elevates  all  our  finer  feelings,  as  far  as  flesh  and  blood  will 
allow. 

Shepherd.  Oh  I  it's  a  desperate  thing,  that  flesh  and  blude !  Can 
you,  Mr.  North,  form  ony  idea  o'  the  virtue  o'  a  disembodied,  or 
rather  o*  an  unembodied  spirit — a  spirit  that  never  was  thirsty,  that 
never  was  hungry,  that  never  was  cauld,  that  never  was  sick,  that 
never  felt  its  heart  loup  to  its  mouth  (how  could  it?)  at  the  kiss  o' 
the  lips  o'  a  young  lassie  sittin'  in  the  same  plaid  wi'  you,  on  the 
hillside,  unmindfu*^  o'  the  blashing  sleet,  and  inhabiting  within  thae 
worsted  faulds,  the  very  heart  o'  balmy  paradise  ? 

North.  It  must  be  something  very  diflerent,  at  any  rate,  James, 
from  the  nature  of  an  evangelical  lady  of  middle  age,  and  much 
rotundity,  smiling  greasily  on  her  greasy  husband,  for  another  spoon- 
ful of  stuffing  out  of  the  goose ;  and  while  engaged  in  devouring 
him,  ogling  a  roasted  pig  with  an  orange  in  its  mouth,  the  very 
image  of  a  human  squeaker  of  an  age  fit  for  Mr.  Wilderspin's  in- 
fant school. 

Tickler.  Infant  schools!  There  you  see  education  driven  to  ab- 
surdity that  must  soon  sicken  any  rational  mind. 

North.  What  can  we  know.  Tickler,  about  infants?  "He  speaks 
to  us  who  never  had  a  child." 

Shepherd.  But  I  have  had  mony,  and  I  prophesy,  that  in  three 
years  there  shall  not  be  an  infant  school  in  all  Scotland.  Nae  doubt, 
in  great  towns  it  might  often  be  of  great  advantage  to  children  and 
parents,  that  the  bit  infants  should  be  better  cared  for  and  looked 
after  than  they  are,  when  the  parents  are  at  work,  or  necessarily 
from  home.  But  to  hope  to  be  able  to  do  this  permanently,  on  a 
regular  system  of  infant  schools,  proves  an  utter  ignorance  of  human 
feelings,  and  of  the  structure  of  human  society.  It  is  unnatural, 
and  the  attempt  will  soon  fall  out  of  the  hand  of  weak  enthusiasts, 
and  expire. 

North,  It  is  amusing,  James — is  it  not?— to  see  how  ready  an 
evangelical  young  lady  is  to  marry  the  first  reprobate  who  asks  her 
— under  the  delusion  of  believing  that  she  is  rich. 

Tickler,  But  she  first  converts  him,  you  know. 

Shepherd,  Na,  na.  It's  him  that  converts  her,  and  it's  no  ill  to  do. 
If  she  really  hae  cash — sae  a  thoosan'  poun' — madam  asks  few  ques- 
tions, but  catches  at  the  captain.  There  is  an  end  then  o*  her  Sun- 
day schools,  and  her  catechizings,  and  her  preachin'  o'  the  word 
She  flings  aff  the  hypocrite,  and  is  converted  into  the  bauld  randy 


Digitized  by 


Google 


TRUE   WOMANHOOD.  247 

like  wife  o'  a  subaltern  officer  in  tlie  grenadier  company  o'  an  Eeriah 
regiment;  flauntin'  in  a  boyne-Iike  bannet  in  the  front  row  o'  a  box 
in  the  theatre,  unco  like  ane  o'  the  hizzies  up  in  the  pigeon-holes,  and 
no  thinkin'  shame  to  launch  at  dooble  entendres !  Ithers  o'  them 
again  mak  up  to  weak  young  men  o*  a  serious  turn  and  good  income ; 
marry  in'  some  o*  them  by  sly  stratagem,  and  some  by  main  force. 

North.  But  of  them  all  alike,  without  one  single  exception,  the  aim 
— with  various  motives — is  still  the  same — marriage. 

Tickler,  Come,  come.  Kit,  not  all,  1  know  to  the  contrary. 

North,  All  the  self  dubbed  evangelicals.  For  love,  or  for  money, 
they  are  all  eager  to  marry  at  a  week's  notice,  and  they  are  all  of  them 
ready  to  jump  at  an  offer,  on  to  a  very  advanced  period  of  mortal 
existence.  From  about  fifty  on  to  sixty-five,  they  are  still  most 
susceptible  of  the  tender  passion  ;  rather  than  not  have  a  husband, 
they  will  marry 

**  Toothless  bald  decrepitude," 

as  I  have  known  in  many  instances,  and  absolutely  pretend  to  get 
sick  in  company  a  month  or  two  after  the  odious  event,  as  if  they 
were  as  "  ladies  wish  to  be  who  love  their  lords,"  and  about,  ere 
long,  to  increase  the  number  of  Mr.  Wilderspin's  infant  scholars! 

Tickler,  What  a  contrast  does  all  this  present  to  the  character  and 
conduct  of  the  true  and  humble  Christian — mild,  modest,  unpretend- 
ing. 

Shepherd.  And  always  without  exception,  beautifu* ;  for  the  hame- 
liest  countenance  becomes  angelical  when  overspread  for  a  constancy 
with  the  spirit  of  that  religion  that  has  ''shown  us  how  divine  a  thing 
a  woman  may  be  made  !  " 

Tickler,  I  see  her  sitting,  serene,  but  not  silent,  her  smiles  frequent, 
and  now  and  then  her  sweet  silvery  laugh  not  unheard,  in  a  dress 
simple  as  simple  may  be,  in  unison  with  a  graceftil  elegance  that 
Nature  breathed  over  "  that  lady  of  her  own." 

North.  I  forget  her  name,  my  dear  friend — ^you  mean  Lucy  ? 

Tickler,  Whom  else  in  heaven  or  on  earth? 

Shepherd,  Ay,  there  are  thousans  on  thousans  o'  Lucys,  who  walk 
in  their  innocence  and  their  happiness  beneath  the  light  of  Christian- 
ity, knowing  not  how  good  they  are,  and  in  the  holy  inspiration  o' 
Nature  doing  their  duty  to  God  and  man,  almost  without  knowing 
t  so  sublime  a  simplicity  is  theirs. 

North.  Of  theirs  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 

Shepherd.  Nae  backbiting — nae  envy — nae  uncharitableness — nae 
exaggeration  o'  trifles — nae  fear  o'  the  face  o'  the  knave  o'  spades  at 
an  innocent  game  o'  cards,  played  to  please  some  auld  leddy  that  in 
the  doze  o'  decent  dotage  canna  do  without  some  amusement  or  ither 
that  requires  little  thocht,  but  waukens  up  some  kindlin's  o'  aimless 


Digitized  by 


Google 


248  KOGTES  AMBBOSIAN^ 

feeling — nae  fear,  and  but  sma'  Fondness  for  dancin',  except  where 
she's  gotten  a  pleasant  partner — a  cretur  that  does  na  start  at  shad- 
ows, because  she  walks  in  licht — that  kens  by  thinkin*  on  her  ain 
heart  what  in  this  tryin'  life  should  be  guarded  against  in  treniblin*, 
and  what  indulged  in  wilhouten  reproach — a  lassie  that  does  na 
eternally  keep  rinnin'  after  new  preachers,  but  sits  in  the  same  pew 
in  the  same  kirk — an  angel 

Tickler,  "  Like  heavenly  Una  with  her  niilk-white  lamb,"  in  the 
light  of  whose  beauty  her  father's  house  rejoiceth,  and  is  breathed  over 
by  a  shade  of  sadness  only  for  a  few  weeks  after  she  has  been  wafted 
away  on  the  wings  of  love  to  bless  the  home  of  a  husband,  won  more 
by  the  holy  charm  of  her  filial  affection  than  even  by  the  breath  of 
the  sighs  that  poured  forth  her  speechless  confession  on  his  own  bo- 
som fast  beating  to  the  revelation  of  her  virgin  love. 

Shepherd,  That's  no  sae  ill  expressed,  sir,  for  an  auld  bachelor: 
but  the  truth  is,  that  in  the  course  o'  life  a'  the  best  capacities  o' 
human  feeling  expand  themselves  out  into  full  growth  in  the  bosom 
o'  a  gude  man,  even  under  the  impulses  o'  imagination,  just  the  same 
as  if  he  had  had  a  real  wife  and  weans  o*  his  ain ;  and  aiblins,  his 
feelings  are  even  mair  divine  from  being  free  o'  the  doon-draught  o' 
realities;  idealeezed  as  it  were  by  love  rejoicin'  in  its  escape  from 
the  thraldom  o'  necessity. 

North,  James,  you  always  speak  such  poetry  at  our  Noctes  that  I 
grieve  you  write  it  now  so  seldom  or  never. 

Shepherd,  Perhaps  I  hae  written  my  best ;  and  bad  as  that  may 
be,  my  name  will  have  a  sort  o'  existence  through  the  future  in  the 
Forest.     Won't  it,  sir  ? 

North,  No  fear  of  that,  James. 

Shepherd,  Then  I  am  satisfied. 

Tickler.  I  hardly  understand  the  nature  of  the  desire  for  posthu- 
mous fame. 

Shepherd,  Nor  me  neither.  But  the  truth  is,  I  understand  nae- 
thing.  That  I  love  to  gaze  on  a  rose  and  a  rainbow,  and  a  wall-flower 
on  a  castle,  and  a  wreath  o'  snaw,  and  a  laverock  in  the  licht,  and  a 
dewie  starnie,  and  a  bit  bonnie  wee  pink  shell,  and  an  inseck  dancin' 
like  a  diamond,  and  a  glimmer  o'  the  moon  on  water,  be  it  a  great 
wide  Highland  loch,  or  ony  a  sma'  fountain  or  well  in  the  wilder- 
ness, and  on  a  restless  wave,  and  on  a  steadfast  cloud,  and  on  face  o' 
a  lisping  child  that  means  amaist  naething,  and  the  face  o'  a  mute 
maiden  that  means  amaist  every  thing — that  1  love  to  gaze  at  a'  these, 
and  a  thousan'  things  beside  in  heaven  and  on  earth  that  are  dreamt 
of  in  my  philosophy,  my  beatin'  heart  tells  me  every  day  I  live ; 
but  the  why  and  the  wherefore  are  generally  hidden  frae  me,  and 
whenever  I  strive  for  the  reason,  my  soul  sinks  away  down  and  down 
into  a  depth  that  seems  half  air  and  half  water,  and  I  am  like  a  man 


Digitized  by 


Google 


THE   POET.  249 

drowin'  in  a  calm,  and  as  he  drowns,  feelin'  as  if  he  were  descendin* 
to  the  coral  palaces  o'  the  mermaids,  where  a'  things  are  beautifu' 
but  unintelligible,  and  after  wanderin'  about  a  while  under  the  saftly- 
looming  climate,  up  again  a'  at  once  into  the  every-day  world,  in 
itself,  o'  a  gude  truth,  as  beautifu'  and  unintelligible  too  as  ony  warld 
in  the  heavens  above  or  in  the  waters  underneath  the  earth. 

North,  Posthumous  fame ! 

Shepherd,  What's  mair  nor  ordinar  extraordinar  in  that?  We 
love  our  kind,  and  we  love  our  life — and  we  love  our  earth — and  we 
love  oursells.  Therefore,  being  immortal  creatures,  we  love  the 
thocht  of  never  being  forgotten  by  that  kind,  and  in  that  life,  and  on 
that  earth.  We  all  desire,  we  all  hope  to  be  held  in  remembrance 
for  a  shorter  or  a  langer  time — but  only  them  that  has  done  or  said, 
or  sung  something  imperishable,  extend  that  desire  into  a  limitless 
future — coexisting  without  warks — when  they  perish  we  perish  too, 
and  are  willing  to  perish.  But  be  so  gude  as  tell  me,  sir,  what's  the 
preceese  meanin'  o'  the  word  posthumous,  or  rather  how  it  comes  to 
mean  "  after  you  are  dead  ?" 

Tickler,  All  poets  should  die  young. 

Shepherd,  No  great  poet  ever  died  young  that  I  heard  tell  o*. 
All  the  great  ancient  poets  o'  Greece,  I  am  tauld,  leeved  till  they 
were  auld  chieis  — 

North,  Homer  and  Pindar,  (eh  ?)  and  iEschylus,  and  Sophocles, 
and  Euripides. 

Shepherd,  And  a'  the  great  English  poets  either  lived  to  be  auld 
men,  or  reached  a  decent  time  o'  life — say  fifty  and  six,  and  three- 
score and  ten  ;  as  to  Richard  West  and  Chatterton,  young  Beattie, 
and  Michael  Bruce,  and  Kirke  White,  and  John  Keats,  and  others, 
they  were  a*  fine  lads,  but  nane  o*  them  a*  gied  symptoms  of  ever 
becomin'  great  poets,  and  better  far  for  their  fame  that  they  died  in 
youth.  Ony  new  poets  sprutin'  up,  sir,  amang  us,  like  fresh  daisies 
amang  them  that's  withered  ?  Noo  that  the  auld  cocks  are  cowed, 
are  the  chickens  beginning  to  flap  their  wings  and  craw? 

Tickler,  Most  of  them  mere  poultry,  James. 

North,  Not  worth  plucking. 

Shepherd,  It's  uncomprehensible,  sir,  to  me  altogether,  what  that 
something  is  that  ae  man  only,  amang  many  millions,  has,  that  make 
him  poetical,  while  a'  the  lave  remain  to  the  day  o'  their  death 
prosaic?  I  defy  you  to  put  your  finger  on  ae  pint  o'  his  mental 
character  or  constitution  in  which  the  secret  lies — indeed,  there's 
aften  a  sort  o'  stupidity  about  the  cretur  that  makes  you  sorry  for 
him,  and  he's  very  generally  lauchit  at ; — ^yet,  there's  a  superiority 
in  the  strain  o'  his  thochts  and  feelings  that  places  him  on  a  level  by 
himsell  aboon  a'  their  heads ; — he  has  intuitions  o'  the  truth,  which^ 
depend  on't,  sir,  does  not  lie  at  the  bottom  of  a  well,  but  rather  iu 


Digitized  by 


Google 


250  N0CTE8  AMBBOBIAK^ 

the  lift  o*  the  understanding  and  the  imagination — the  twa  hemis- 
pheres ; — and  knowledge,  that  seems  to  flee  awa*  frae  ither  men  the 
faster  and  the  farther  the  mair  eagerly  it  is  pursued,  aften  comes  o* 
its  ain  sweet  accord,  and  lies  doun  at  the  poet's  feet. 

North.  Just  so.  The  power  of  the  soul  is  as  the  expression  of  the 
countenance — the  one  is  strong  in  faculties,  and  the  other  beautiful  in 
features,  you  cannot  tell  how — but  so  it  is,  and  so  it  is  felt  to  be, 
and  let  those  not  thus  endowed  by  nature,  either  try  to  make  souls 
or  make  faces,  and  they  only  become  ridiculous,  and  laughing  stocks 
to  the  world.  This  is  especially  the  case  with  poets,  who  must  be 
made  of  finer  clay. 

Tickler.  Generally  cracked 

Shepherd.  But  transpawrent 

Tickler.  Yea,  an  urn  of  light. 

Shepherd.  Vm  beginnin'  to  get  verra  hungry  just  for  a  particular 
thing  that  1  think  you'll  baith  join  me  in — ^pickled  sawmont.  Ay, 
yonder  it's  on  the  sideboards ;  Mr.  Tickler,  rise  and  bring't,  and  Til 
do  as  muckle  for  you  anither  time. 

(Tickler  puts  the  Circular  Slab  to  rights^  hy  means  of  pre- 
existing materials  for  a  night  only.     They  all  fall  to.) 

North,  James,  I  wish  ye  would  review  for  Maga  all  those  fashion- 
able  novels — novels  for  High  Life;  such  as  Pelham — *  the  Dis- 
owned   

Shepherd.  I've  read  thae  twa,  and  they're  baith  gude.  But  the 
mair  1  think  on't,  the  profounder  is  my  conviction  that  the  strength 
o*  human  natur  lies  either  in  the  highest  or  lowest  estates  of  life. 
Characters  in  books  should  either  be  kings,  and  princes,  and  nobles, 
and  on  a  level  with  them,  like  heroes;  or  peasants,  shepherds,  far- 
mers, and  the  like,  includin'  a'  orders  amaist  o'  our  ain  working 
population.  The  intermediate  class, — that  is,  leddies  and  gentlemen 
in  general,  are  no  worth  the  Muse's  while ;  for  their  life  is  made  up 
chiefly  o'  mainners — mainners — mainners — youcanna  see  the  human 
creturs  for  their  claes;  and  should  ane  o'  them  commit  suicide  in 
despair,  in  lookin'  on  the  dead  body,  you  are  mair  taen  up  wi'  its 
dress  than  its  deeseasc. 

*  Bnlwer's  flrat  prose  story  wa«  "  F&lkland"— which  he  has  not  included  in  his  collected 
works.  It  occupied  a  single  volume.  His  publisher  (Mr.  Colbum)  thought  so  highly  of  it 
that  he  oft'ered  bim  £50U  for  a  novel  in  three  volumes.  His  reply  was,  "  I  will  give  you  one  thai 
shall  be  sure  to  saooeed.'*  At  this  time  the  first  part  of  "  Pelham"  was  written — it  had  been 
founded  on  a  tale  written  in  boyhood,  as  an  essay  in  compositiun,  and  enlarged,  partly  at  col- 
lege, partly  at  Paris.  The  work  wan  completed  and  eent  into  Mr.  Colburn,  whose  ^'  reader" 
rave  such  a  poor  opinion  of  it,  that  it  was  very  nearly  sent  back  to  the  author.  Luckily,  Mr. 
Colburn  determined  to  judge  for  himself,  and  read  the  manuscript.  His  opinion  was  favora- 
ble. He  then  submitted  it  to  Mr.  Charles  Oilier,  author  of  several  very  beautiful  novelettes 
and  some  good  poetry,  whose  report  confirmed  his  own  approbation.  In  1828,  *'  Pelham,  or 
the  Adventures  of  a  Cxentleraan,^^  was  published.  Its  first  jirogress  was  slow,  but  it  gntdnallv 
betame  p»)i  ular.  It  was  followed,  soon  after,  by  '*  The  Disowned^"  which  instantly  simok 
rao   in»o  iho  public  mind.—M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


FASHIONABLE  NOTELS.  251 

Tickler.  Is  this  Tay  or  Tweed  salmon,  James? 

Shepherd,  Tay,  to  be  sure — it  has  the  Pertshire  accent,  verra 
palatable.  These  leddles  and  gentlemen  in  fashionable  novels  aa 
well  as  in  fashionable  life,  are  aye  in  trig — trig — triguin', — thisleddy 
with  that  ane's  gentleman,  and  this  gentleman  with  that  ane's 
leddy — then  it's  a*  foun*  out  thro'  letters  or  keyholes,  and  there*s  a 
duel,  and  a  divorce,  and  a  death,  the  perpetual  repetition  o'  whi<'li,  I 
confess,  gets  unco  wearisome.  Or  the  chief  chiel  in  the  wark  is 
devoted  to  cairts  and  dice — and  out  of  ae  hell — as  they  rightly  ca' 
gamblin'-houses — intil  anither — till  feenally,  as  was  lang  ago  fore- 
seen, he  blaws  out  his  brains  wi'  a  horse-pistol,  a  bit  o'  the  skull 
stickin'  in  the  ceilin'.  This  too,  gets  tiresome,  sirs — oh  !  unco  tire- 
some— for  1  hae  na  desire  to  hear  ony  thing  mair  about  gamblers, 
than  what  ane  sees  noo  and  then  in  the  police  reports  in  the  news- 
papers. There  is  something  sae  essentially  mean  and  contemptible 
in  gamblin',  that  no  deep  interest  can  ever  be  created  for  ony  yo«ng 
man  under  such  a  passion.  It's  a'  on  account  o'  the  siller;  and  I 
canna  bring  mysell  to  think  that  the  love  o'  money  should  ever  be 
the  foundation-stane,  or  the  keystane  o'  the  arch  o  a  story  intended 
for  the  perusal  o'  men  o'  moral  and  intellectual  worth.  Out  he 
flees  like  a  madman  frae  ane  o'  the  hells,  because  he's  ruined,  and 
we  are  asked  to  pity  him — or  tak  warnin'  by  him — or  something  o' 
that  sort  by  way  o'  moral ;  but  had  he  won,  why  another  would 
have  lost ;  and  it  is  just  as  well  that  he  should  loup  into  the  Thames 
wi'  stanes  in  his  pouches,  as  him  that  held  the  wonnin'  haun — but 
to  speak  plain,  they  may  baith  gang  to  the  deevil  for  me,  without 
excitin'  ony  mair  emotion  in  my  mind  than  you  are  doin'  the  noo, 
Tickler,  by  puttin*  a  bit  o'  cheese  on  your  forefinger,  and  then  by  a 
sharp  smack  on  the  palm,  makin  the  mites  spring  into  your  mouth. 

Tickler,  I  was  doing  no  such  thing,  Hogg. 

Shepherd,  North,  was  na  he  ? Puir  auld  useless  body !  he's 

asleep.  Age  will  tell.  He  canna  staun  a  heavy  sooper  noo  as  he 
used  to  do — the  toddy  tells  noo  a  hantle  faster  upon  him,  and  the 
verra  fire  itself  drowsifies  him  noo  intil  a  dwawm — na,  even  the  sound 
o'  ane's  vice,  long  continued,  lulls  him  noo  half  or  hail  asleep,  espe- 
cially if  your  talk  like  mine  demands  thocht — and  there  indeed,  you 
see,  Mr.  Tickler,  how  his  chin  fa's  doon  on  his  breast,  till  he  seems 
— but  for  a  slight  snore — the  image  o'  death.  Heaven  preserve  us 
— only  listen  to  that !  Did  ye  ever  hear  the  like  o'  that  f  What, 
is't  a  musical  snuff-box  %  or  what  is't !  Has  he  g(ftten  a  wee  fairy 
musical  snuff-box,  I  ask  you,  Mr.  Tickler,  within  the  nose  o'  him ; 
or  what  or  wha  is't  that's  playin'  that  tune  ? 

Tickler,  It  is  indeed  equally  beautiful  and  mysterious. 

Shepherd,  I  never  heard  "  Auld  Langsyne"  played  mair  exactly 
in  a'  my  life. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


252  KOCtEfi   AMBROSIANiE. 

Tickler,  " List-— O  list!  if  ever  thou  didst  thy  dear  father 
love!" 

Shepherd^  {going  up  on  tiptoes  to  Mr.  North,  and  putting  his  ear 
tlose  to  the  old  gentlemaii^s  nose).  By  all  that's  miraculous,  he  is 
snoring  **  Auld  Langsyne  /"  The  Eolian  harp's  naething  to  that^ — 
it  canna  play  a  regular  tune — but  there's  no  a  sweeter,  safter,  mair 
pathetic  wund-instrument  in  being  than  his  nose. 

Tickler,  I  have  often  heard  him,  James,  snore  a  few  notes  very 
sweetly,  but  never  before  a  complete  tune.  With  what  powers  the 
soul  is  endowed  in  dreams ! 

Shepherd,  You  may  weel  say  that.  Harkee !  he's  snorin't  wi' 
variations !  Pm  no  a  Christian  if  he  hasna  gotten  into  Maggy 
Lauder,     He's  snorin'  a  medly  in  his  sleep  ! 

(Tickler  and  the  Shepherd  listen  entranced,) 

Tickler,  What  a  spirit-stirring  snore  is  his  Erin  go  hragh! 

Shepherd,  A'  this  is  proof  o'  the  immortality  o'  the  sowle. 
Whisht — whisht ! — (Mr.  North  snores  "  God  save  the  King,^*)  Ay 
— a  loyal  pawtriot  even  in  the  kingdom  o'  dreams !  1  wad  rather  hear 
that  than  Catalan,  in  the  King's  Anthem.  We  maun  never  mention 
this,  Mr.  Tickler.  The  warld'll  no  believe't.  The  warld's  no  ripe 
yet  for  the  belief  of  sic  a  mystery. 

Tickler,  His  nose,  James,  I  think,  is  getting  a  little  hoarse. 

Shepherd,  Less  o'  the  tenor  and  mair  o'  the  bass.  He  was  a  wee 
out  o'  tune  there — and  I  suspeck  his  nose  wants  blawin'.  Here  till 
him  noo — "  Croppies,  lie  doon,"  I  declare — and  see  how  he  i» 
clutchin*  the  crutch. 

(North  awakes  and  for  a  moment  like  goshawk  stares  wild,) 

North.  Yes — I  agree  with  you — there  must  be  a  dissolution. 

Shepherd,  A  dissolution ! 

North,  Yes — of  Parliament.  Let  us  have  the  sense  of  the  people. 
I  am  an  old  Whig— a  Whig  of  the  1688. 

Tickler  and  Shepherd,  Hurraw — hurraw — hurraw !  Old  North, 
old  Eldon,  and  old  Colchester,*  for  ever !  Hurraw — hurraw — 
hurraw ! 

North,  No.  Old  Eldon  alone!  Give  me  the  Dolphin.  No. 
The  Ivy-Tower.  No  need  of  a  glass.  Let  us,  one  after  the  other, 
put  the  Ivy-Tower  to  our  mouth,  and  drink  him  in  pure  Glenlivet. 

Shepherd,  On  the  table. 

{The  Shepherd  and  Tickler  ojfer  to  help  North  to  mount 
the  table.) 

North.  Hands  oS,  gentlemen.     I  scorn  assistance.     Look  here ! 

*  Lord  Eldon,  vho  wu  78  a.t  this  time,  was  ill-fitted  for  office  or  political  varCue.  *  Old 
Colchester"  vaa  72  at  the  eame  date.  He  had  filled  the  office  of  Speaker  of  the  Honee  of  Conk> 
mous  from  18U5  to  181T,  when  he  was  raised  to  the  peerage,  with  a  pension  of  £4000  &  yeax. 
He  died  in  1329.    He  was  a  decided  but  not  rioient  Tor7.--M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


GTMNAffTIOB.  258 

(North,  by  dexterous  movement^  swings  himself  off  his  crutch 

erect  on  the  table,  and  gives  a  helping  handjirst  to  Shsphbbd 

and  then  to  Ticklbr.) 

Shepherd,  That  feat  beats  the  snorin'  a*  to  sticks  !     Faith,  Tickler, 

we  maun  sing  sroa'.     In  a'  things  he^s  our  maister.     AUoo  me,  sir, 

to  gang  doon  for  your  chair  ? 

North,  (flinging  his  ci-utch  to  the  roof.)  OLD  ELDON ! 

(Tremendous  cheering  amidst  the  breakage  of  the  descending 
crutch.) 
Bronte.  Bow — wow — wow — wow — wow — wow — wow—  wow. 

{Enter  Picardt  and  Tail  in  general  consterfiation.) 
Shepherd.  Luk  at  him  noo,  Picardy — luk  at  him  noo! 
Tickler.  Firm  on  his  pins  as  a  pillar  of  the  Parthenon. 
Shepherd,  Saw  ye  ever  a  pair  o'  straughter,  mair  sinewy  legs,  noo 
that  he  leans  the  hale  weight  o'  his  body  on  them ;  ay,  wi'  that  out* 
stretched  arm  he  stauns  like  a  statue  o'  Demosthenes,  about  to  utter 
the  first  word  o'  ane  o'  his  Philippics. 

(Bronte  leaps  on  the  table,  and  stands  by  North's  hiee  with 
a  determined  aspect.) 
North.  Take  the  time  from  Bronte— OLD  COLCHESTER ! 
Bronte.  Bow — wow — wow — wow — wow — wow — wow. 

(Loud  acclamations.) 
Shepherd.  Come,  let's  dance  a  threesome  reel. 
North.  Picardy — your  fiddle. 

(Mr.  Ambrose  takes  Neil  Qow  from  the  peg,  and  plays.) 

Shepherd.  Hadna  we  better  clear  decks 

North.  No — James.  In  my  youth  I  could  dance  the  ancient 
German  sword-dance,  as  described  by  Tacitus.  Sir  David,  remove 
the  Dolphin.     I  care  not  a  jot  for  the  rest  of  the  crystal. 

(North,  Tickler,  and  the  Shepherd  thrid  a  threesome  reel 

— Bronte  careering  round  the  table  in  a  Solo — Picabdy'b 

boW'hand  in  high  condition.) 

Shepherd.  Set  to  me,  sir,  set  to  me — never  mind  Tickler.     Oh  ! 

but  you're  matchless  at  the  Heelen'  fiing,  sir.     Luk   at  him,  Mr. 

Ambrose. 

Ambrose.  Yes,  Mr.  Hogg. 

Shepherd.  V\\  match  him  against  a'  the  Heelans — either  in  breeks 
or  out  o'  them — luk,  luk — see  him  cuttin' ! 

(Mr.  North  motions  to  Picardy,  who  stops  playing,  and  with 
one  bound  leaps  from  the  centre  of  the  circular,  over  the  Ivy 
Tower  to  thefioor.  Shepherd  and  Tickler,  in  attempting 
to  imitate  the  great  original,  fall  on  the  floor^  but  recover 
their  feet  with  considerable  cUcLcrity.) 
North,    (resuming  his  chair.)     The   Catholic  Question  is  not 


Digitized  by 


Google 


254  K00TB8   AMBBOSIAN^. 

carried  yet,  gentlemen.  Should  it  be,  let  it  be  ours  to  defend  the 
Constitution. 

Shepherd.  Speak  awa',  sir,  till  I  recover  my  breath.  I'm  sair 
blawn.     Hear  Tickler's  bellows. 

Tickler^  (stretching  his  weary  length  on  a  sofa.)  Whew — ^whew 
— whew.  (Exit  Picardy  with  his  Tail.) 

North.  Mr.  Peel  seems  to  have  made  a  hit  in  the  chief  character 
of  SheiFs  play* — The  Apostate. 

Tickler.   W  hew — whew — whew. 

North.  I  confess  I  had  no  expectations  of  seeing  that  play  re- 
vived ;  still  less  of  such  a  star  as  Robert  Peel  being  prevailed  upon 
to  accept  of  such  a  miserable  part. 

Shepherd.  It'll  no  gang  down  lang — they'll  be  hissing  him,  some 
day,  aff  the  stage. 

North.  From  the  commencement  of  his  career,  have  I  regarded 
Robert  Peel  with  pleasure  and  with  pride;  and  when  it  does  hap- 
pen that  an  old  man*s  heart  has  warmed  towards  a  young  one,  it  is 
not  easy  to  chill  the  kindly  glow — it  is  more  difficult,  it  would  seem, 
to  change  sentiments  than  opinions. 

Shepherd.  I  heard  twa  three  whalps  the  ither  day  braggin',  "  Noo, 
we'll  see  Blackwood's  Magazine  niakin'  a  wheel ;"  but  I  gied  them 
the  lee  dereck  in  their  teeth,  and  they  were  mum. 

North.  Blackwood's  Magazine  may  make  a  wheel,  when  the  sun 
makes  a  wheel  in  heaven — and  from  his  meridian  tour  runs  back 
eastward. 

Shepherd.  The  chariot  o'  Apollo  reisien  on  the  hill ! 

North.  Oxford  must  not — must  not  re-elect  Robert  Peel.*  Let 
her  pity — forgive — if  she  can,  respect — nay,  admire  him  still — but 
let  her  not  trust  the  betrayer. 

Shepherd.  And  must  we  say  gude  nicht — without  haen  ance 
mentioned  that  name  that  wont  to  set  the  table  in  a  roar — a  roar  o' 
glorying  gratitude — to  him  wha — 

North.  THE  DUKE  OF  WELLINGTON !  What!  in  solemn 
silence  ? 

Tickler.  Solemn — but  not  sullen— North. 

*  Sir  Robert  Peel,  from  the  commencement  of  his  public  career  in  1809,  had  been  a  deroted 
adherent  of  what  usrd  to  be  called  •'Church  and  State,"' — which  included  strong  antagonism 
to  Catholic  Emancipation.  In  ls"28,  when  OVonnell,  the  Roman  Catholic  leader,  was  elected 
Member  of  Parliament  for  Clare,  and— in  the  Duke  of  Wellington's  opinion — Ireland  was  on 
ihe  eve  of  a  civil  war,  it  was  resolved  to  yield  to  ''  that  unepiriiual  god,  Circumstance.''  and 
abolish  the  civil  disabilities  of  the  Catholics.  Peel,  who  was  Home  Secretary,  justified  his 
change  of  omnion  and  conduct  by  saying  (in  reply  to  a  severe  attack  by  Sir  Charles  Wethcrell,J 
•*I  shall  follow  the  example  of  the  pilot,  who  does  not  always  steer  the  same  course  to  guard 
die  ship  from  danger,  but  a  different  course  under  different  circumstances,  as  they  aris^e,  in 
order  to  save  the  vessel  from  the  very  dangers  which  the  captain  and  crew  have  most  dreaded." 
^As  he  sat  for  Oxford  University  as  an  Anti-Catholic,  he  resigned  his  t-eat.  stood  a  contest  with 
Sir  R.  Inglis,  was  defeated,  and  returned  to  Parliament  for  the  borough  of  Westbury.  Hi-i 
"apostacy"  and  *'  treachery,"  (as  the  Protestant  party  called  it,)  lost  him  many  friends,  and 
in  1830,  so  far  wecJcened  him  that  the  break-up  of  the  Wellington  Ministry,  by  the  WbicrSf 
was  not  diflioalt.    It  took  years  to  rs-oonstruct  the  partj.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


PKOPHEOYING.  255 

North.  May  my  tongue  cleave  to  the  roof  of  my  mouth^-or  wag 
in  mumbling  palsy — if  ever  my  breath  seek  to  stain  the  lustre  of 
that  glorious  name.     He  saved  England. 

Sheplurd,  Dinna  put  on  that  kind  o'  a  face,  I  beseech  you,  sir. 
The  expression  o't  is  sae  incomprehensible,  that  I  know  not  whether 
to  houp  or  fear  for  my  country. 

North,  We  who  never  feared  must  hope.  Oh !  I  could  pro- 
phesy ! 

Shepherd,  So  could  I,  for  that  matter ;  but  I  hate  to  look  into 
clouds  and  darkness. 

Tickler.  Let  us  swear  to  meet  this  day  month.  Shall  the  Popish 
Association  put  down  the  Government  ?  And  may  not  the  Protes- 
tant Association  restore  the  State  ? 

North.  It  might — it  may. 

Shepherd.  Oh  !  my  dear  sir,  my  imagination  kindles  when  I 
look  on  your  bald  forehead.  It  would  be  as  easy  to  turn  you  round 
as  an  auld  oak  tree.  Na,  not  so  easy,  for  Sir  Henry  Steuart  o' 
Allanton,  wi'  his  machinery,  could  turn  roun'  an  auld  oak-tree,  but 
no  a'  the  powers  o'  earth,  wi'  a'  their  machinery,  could  skrew  you 
ae  hair's  breadth  roun*  fra  the  position  on  which  you  hae  taken 
your  staun  ;  as  sune  turn  roun'  a  rock-built  tower,  to  face  the  setting 
instead  o*  the  risin'  sun. 

North.  My  dear  James,  you  are  too  partial  to  the  old  man. 

Shepherd.  I  speak  the  sense  o'  the  nation.  You  are  Abdiel  grown 
auld,  but  faithful  as  in  youth — still  the  dauntless  angel. 

North.  One  bumper  at  parting. 

THE  KING! 

AND   MAY    HB   NEVBR    FORGET    THOSE    PRINCIPLES   WHICH     SEATED     HIS 
FAMILY   ON   THE   THRONE   OF   THESE   REALMS. 

(Endless  cheering^  and  then  Exeun   Onmes.) 


Digitized  by 


Google 


856  NOCTEB  AHBB06IAN.fi. 


NO.  XLIL— APRIL,  1829. 

SCENE  I.— 7%tf  Snuffgery.-^Time,  Eight  o'dock.-^The  Uhum- 
Table,  with  Tea  and  Coffee-pots^  and  the  0*Doheriy  China^et — 
Cold  Round — Pies — Oysters — Rizzars — Pickled  Salmon,  o&c,  o&c, 
d:c,  A  How-  Towdie  whirling  before  the  fire  over  a  large  basin  of 
mashed  Potatoes, — The  Boiler  on. — A  Bachelor* s  Kitchen  an  th4 
$mall  OvaL — A  Dumb  Waiter  at  each  end  of  the  Union, 

North — Shepherd. 

Shepherd,  This  I  ca'  comfort,  sir.  Every  thing  within  oursell — 
Dae  need  to  ring  the  bell  the  leevelang  night — nae  openin'  o'  cheepin*, 
nae  shuttin'  o'  clashin'  doors — nae  trampin'  o'  waiters  across  the 
carpet  wi'  creakin'  shoon — or  sturablin*,  clumsy  coofs — to  the  great 
spill  in'  o'  gravy — but  a'  things,  eatable  and  uneatable,  either  hushed 
into  a  cosy  calm,  or 

North,  Now  light,  James,  the  lamp  of  the  Bachelor's  Kitchen 
with  Tickler's  card,  and  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  minus  five  minutes, 
you  shall  scent  and  see  such  steaks ! 

Shepherd,  Only  look  at  the  towdy,  sir^how  she  swings  sae  granly 
roun'  by  my  garters,  after  the  fashion  o'  a  planet.  It's  a  beautiful 
example  o'  centrifugal  attraction.  See  till  the  fat  dreep-dreepin' 
inlil  the  ashet  o'  mashed  potawtoes,  oilifying  the  crusted  brown  intil 
a  mair  delicious  richness  o'  mixed  vegetable  and  animal  maitter ! 
As  she  swings  slowly  twirling  roun,'  I  really  canna  say,  sir,  for  I 
dinna  ken,  whether  bany  back  or  fieshy  briest  be  the  mabt  temptin' ! 
Sappy  baith ! 

North.  Right,  James — baste  her — baste  her — don't  spare  the 
flour.     Nothing  tells  like  the  dredge-box. 

Shepherd,  You're  a  capital  man-cook,  sir. 

North,  For  plain  roast  and  boil,  I  yield  to  no  mortal  man.  Nor 
am  I  inconsiderable  shakes  at  stews.  What  a  beautiful  blue  magical 
light  glimmers  from  that  wonder-working  lamp,  beneath  whose 
necromancy  you  already  hear  the  sweet  low  bubble  and  squeak  of 
the  maturing  steak  !     Off  with  the  lid,  James. 

(  The  Shepherd  doffs  the  lid  of  the  Bachelor's  Kitchen,) 

Shepherd,  What  a  pabblin' !  A*  hotchin'  like  a  sea  in  a  squall, 
or  a  patfu'  o'  boilin'  parritch  !     What  a  sweat  savour  !     Is't  na  like 


Digitized  by 


Google 


THEOitT   OF  THE  TONGUE.  Ii57 

honeysuckle,  sir,  or  sweet-brier,  oi  broom,  or  whuns,  or  thyme,  or 
roses,  or  carnations  1  Or  rather  like  the  scent  o*  these  a'  conglome- 
rated thegither  in  the  dewy  mornin'  air,  when,  as  sune  as  you  open 
the  window,  the  haill  house  is  overflowing  wi'  fragrance,  and  a  body's 
a  maist  sick  with  the  sweet,  warm,  thick  air,  that  slowly  wins  its 
way,  like  palpable  balm,  arm  in  arm  wi'  the  licht  that  waukens  the 
yellow-billed  blackbird  in  her  nest  amang  the  cottage  creepers,  or 
reopens  the  watchful  een  o'  her  neighbor,  the  bonny  spotted  mavis ! 
Let's  pree't.  (Shepherd  tastes.) 

North,  Ay — I  could  have  told  you  so.  Rash  man,  to  swallow 
liquid  and  solid  fire !  But  no  more  spluttering.  Cool  your  tongue 
with  a  caulker. 

Shepherd,  That  lamp's  no  canny.  It  intensifies  hetness  intil  an 
atrocity  abune  natur.     Is  the  skin  flyped  affmy  tongue,  sir? 

(Shepherd  shows  his  tongue,) 

North.  Let  me  put  on  my  spectacles.  A  slight  incipient  inflam- 
mation not  worth  mentioning. 

Shepherd.  I  houp  an  incipient  inflammation's  no  a  dangerous 
sort? 

North.  Is  that  indeed  the  tongue,  my  dear  James,  that  trills  so 
sweetly  and  so  simply  those  wild  Doric  strains?  How  deeply, 
darkly,  beautifully  red  !  Just  like  a  rag  of  scarlet.  No  scurf — say 
rather  no  haze  around  the  lambent  light.  A  rod  of  fire — an  arrow 
of  flame.  A  tongue  of  ten  thousand,  prophesying  an  eagle  or  raven 
life. 

Shepherd.  I  aye  like,  sir,  to  keep  a  gude  tongue  in  my  head,  ever 
since  1  wrote  the  Chaldee  mannyscripp. 

North.  Humph  ! — no  more  infallible  mark  of  a  man  of  genius, 
James,  than  the  shape  of  his  tongue.  It  is  uniformly  long,  so  that 
he  can  shoot  it  out,  with  an  easy  grace,  to  the  tip  of  his  nose. 

Shepherd.  This  way. 

North.  Precisely  so.  Fine  all  round  the  edge,  from  root  to  tip- 
underneath  very  veinous — surface  in  color  near  as  may  be  to  that 
of  a  crimson  curtain  shining  in  setting  sunlight.  But  the  tip — 
James — the  tip 

Shepherd.  Like  that  o*  the  serpent's  that  deceived  Eve,  sir — 
curlin'  up  and  down  like  the  musical  leaf  o'  some  magical  tree — 

North.  It  is  a  singular  fact  with  regard  to  the  tongue,  that  if  you 
cut  off*  the  half  of  it,  the  proprietor  of  the  contingent  remainder  can 
only  mumble-^but  cut  it  off  wholly,  and  he  speaks  fully  better  than 
before. 

Shepherd.  That's  a  hang'd  lee. 

North.  As  true  a  word  as  ever  I  spoke,  James. 

Shi^herd.  Perhaps  it  may,  sir,  but  it's  a  hang'd  lee,  neverthe- 
less. 

Vol.  III.— 18 


Digitized  by 


Google 


258  H00TE8  AMBK08IAKJB. 

North.  Digfa  the  steaks,  my  dear  James,  and  I  shall  out  down  the 
howtowdie. 

(North  and  thA  SHEPHBD^mu^  «p  tki  Ambrosial  table$,  and 
sit  down  to  serious  devouring^ 

North.  Now,  James,  acknowledge  it— don't  you  admire  a  miscel- 
laneous meal  ? 

Shepherd.  I  do.  Breakfast,  noony,  denner,  four-hours,  and  sooper, 
a'  in  ane.  A  material  emblem  o'  that  spiritual  bubstance,  Blaok- 
wood's  Magazine !  Can  it  possibly  be,  sir,  that  we  are  twa  glut- 
tons? 

North.  Gluttons  we  most  assuredly  are  not ;  but  eaoh  of  us  is  a 
man  of  good  appetite.     What  is  gluttony  ? 

Shepherd.  Some  mair  steaks,  sir? 

North.  Very  few,  my  dear  James,  very  few. 

Shepherd.  What's  gluttony  ? 

North.  Some  eggs ! 

Shepherd.  Ae  spoonfu'.  What  a  layer  she  wad  hae  been !  O 
but  she's  a  prolific  creature,  Mr.  North,  your  howtowdie !  It's 
necessary  to  kill  heaps  o'  yearocks.  or  the  baill  kintra  wud  be  a- 
cackle  frae  John  o'  Grroat's  House  to  St.  Michael's  Mount. 

North.  Sometimes  I  eat  merely  as  an  amusement  or  pastime — 
sometimes  for  recreation  of  my  animal  spirits — sometimes  on  the 
philosophical  principle  of  sustenance — sometimes  for  the  mere  sen- 
sual, but  scarcely  sinful,  pleasure  of  eating,  or,  in  common  language, 
gormandizing — and  occasionally,  once  a  month  or  so,  for  all  these 
several  purposes  united,  as  at  this  present  blessed  moment;  so  a 
few  flakes,  my  dear  Shepherd,  of  that  Westmoreland  ham — lay  the 
knife  on  it,  and  its  own  weight  will  sink  it  down  through  the  soft 
sweet  sappiness  of  fat  and  lean,  undistinguishably  blended  as  the 
colors  of  the  rainbow,  and  out  of  all  sight  incomparably  more 
beautiful. 

Shepherd.  As  for  me,  I  care  nae  mair  about  what  I  eat,  than  I  do 
what  kind  o*  bed  I  sleep  upon,  sir.  I  hate  ony  thing  stinkin'  or 
mooldy  at  board — or  ony  thing  damp  or  musty  in  bed.  But  let  the 
vivres  be  but  fresh  and  wholesome — and  if  it's  but  scones  and  milk, 
1  shut  my  een,  say  a  grace,  fa'  to,  and  am  thankfu' ; — let  the  bed  be 
dry,  and  whether  saft  or  hard,  feathers,  hair,  cafi^  straw,  or  heather, 
I'm  fast  in  ten  minutes,  and  my  sowl  waverin'  awa  like  a  butterfly 
intil  the  land  o'  dreams. 

North.  Not  a  more  abstemious  man  than  old  Kit  North  in  his 
Majesty's  dominions,  on  which  the  sun  never  sets.  I  have  the  moat 
accommodating  of  palates. 

Shepherd,  i  es — it's  a  universal  genius.  I  ken  naething  like  it, 
sir,  but  your  stomach.  '^  Sure  such  a  pair  were  never  seen !"  Had 
ye  never  the  colic  ? 


Digitized  by 


Google 


GLUTTONY.  259 

ft 

Norih.  Never,  James,  never.  I  confess  that  I  have  been  guilty 
of  many  crimes,  but  never  of  a  capital  crime, — never  of  colic. 

Shepherd.  There's  muckle  confusion  o'  ideas  in  the  brains  of  the 
blockheads  who  accuse  us  o'  gluttony,  Mr.  North.  Gluttony  may 
be  defined  '^  an  immoral  and  unintellectual  abandonment  o'  the  sowl 
o'  mac  to  his  eustative  natur."  I  defy  a  brute  animal  to  be  a  glut- 
ton. A  swine  s  no  a  glutton.  Nae  cretur  but  man  can  be  a  glut- 
ton.    A'  the  rest  are  prevented  by  the  definition. 

North,  Is  there  any  test  of  gluttony,  James  1 

Shepherd,  Watch  twa  men  eatin'.  As  lang's  there's  a  power  or 
capacity  o'  smilin'  on  their  cheeks,  and  in  and  about  their  een, — as 
lang's  they  keep  lookin'  at  you,  and  round  about  the  table,  attend  in' 
to  or  joinin'  in  the  tank,  or  the  speakin'  cawm, — as  lang's  they  every 
noo  an*  than  lay  doon  their  knife  and  fork,  to  ca'  for  yill,  or  ask  a 
young  leddy  to  tak  wine,  or  tell  an  anecdote,  as  lang's  they  keep 
frequently  ca'in'  on  the  servant  lad  or  lass  for  a  clean  plate — as 
lang's  they  glower  on  the  framed  picturs  or  prents  on  the  wa',  and 
askin'  if  the  tane's  originals  and  the  tither  proofe, — as  lang's  they 
offer  to  carve  the  tongue  or  turkey — depend  on*t  they're  no  in  a 
state  o'  gluttony,  but  are  devourin'  their  soup,  fish,  flesh,  and  fowl, 
like  men  and  Christians.  But  as  sune's  their  chin  gets  creeshy — their 
cheeks  lank,  sallow,  and  clunk-clunky — their  nostrils  wide — their 
een  fixed — their  faces  dose  to  their  trencher — and  themseFs  dum- 
bies — then  you  may  see  a  specimen  *'o'  the  immoral  and  unintel- 
lectual abandonment  o'  the  sowl  o'  man  to  his  gustative  natur ;" 
then  is  the  fast,  foul,  fat  feeder  a  glutton,  the  maist  disgustfuest 
cretur  that  sits — and  far  aneath  the  level  o'  them  that  feed  on  a' 
fowers,  out  o'  trochs  on  garbage. 

North,  Sensuality  is  the  most  shocking  of  all  sins,  and  its  name, 
is  Legion. 

Shepherd.  Ay,  there  may  be  as  muckle  gluttony  on  so^rens  as  on 
turtle  soup.  A  ploughman  may  be  as  greedy  and  as  gutsy  as  an 
alderman.  The  sin  lies  not  in  the  sense  but  in  the  sowl.  Sir — a 
red-herring? 

North,  Thank  ye,  James. 

Shepherd,  Are  you  drinkin'  coffee  ?  Let  me  toast  you  a  shave  o' 
bread,  and  butter  it  for  you  on  baith  sides,  sir  f 

{The  Shsphbrd  kneels  on  the  Tiger y^  and  etretchee  out  the  Tri- 
dent to  Vulcan,) 

North.  Heaven  will  reward  ye,  James,  for  your  piety  to  the  old 
man. 

Shepherd,  Dinna,  think,  sir,  that  I  care  about  your  last  wull  and 
testament  I'm  nae  legacy-hunter — nae  Post-obit.  But  hae  ye 
added  the  codicil  1 

^  TU  Tig9r,—%  kMTth-ruf ,  into  whieh  is  w«t«b  tk«  im«f«  of  a  tigw.—M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


260  NOCTES   AMBEOSIANiK. 

North.  The  man  who  has  not  raode  his  will  at  forty  is  worse  than 
a  fool — almost  a  knave. 

Shepherd,  I  ken  nae  better  test  o'  wisdom — wisdom  in  its  highest 
sense — than  a  just  last  wull  and  testament.  It  blesseth  generations 
yet  unborn.  It  guardcth  and  strengtheneth  domestic  peace— and 
maketh  brethren  to  dwell  together  in  unity.  Being  dead,  the  wise 
testator  yet  liveth — his  spirit  abideth  invisible,  but  felt  ower  the 
roof-tree,  and  delighteth,  morning  and  evening,  in  the  thanksgiving 
Psalm. 

North,  One  would  think  it  were  easy  to  act  well  in  that  matter. 

Shepherd,  One  would  think  it  were  easy  to  act  weel,  sir,  in  a' 
matters.  Yet  hoo  difficult  I  The  sow!  seems,  somehow  or  ither, 
to  lose  her  simplicity,  to  keep  restlessly  glourin*  round  and  round 
about  wi'  a  thousan'  artificial  ogles  up  a'  the  cross  and  by-paths 
leadin'  nae  single  body  kens  whither,  unless  it  be  into  brakes,  and 
thickets,  and  quagmires,  and  wildernesses  o'  moss — where  ane  may 
wander  wearily  and  drearily  up  and  doon  for  years,  and  never  re- 
cover the  richt  road  again,  till  death  touches  him  on  the  shouther, 
and  doon  he  fa's  amang  them  that  were,  leavin'  a'  that  lucked  up  to 
him  for  his  effecks  in  doubt  and  dismay  and  desolation,  wi*  sore  and 
bitter  hearts,  uncertain  whether  to  gie  vent  to  their  feelings  in  bless- 
ings or  in  curses,  in  execration  or  prayer. 

North,  Of  all  the  vices  of  old  age,  may  gracious  Heaven,  my 
dearest  James,  for  ever  shield  me  from  avarice  ! 

Shepherd,  Nae  fear  o'  that.  There's  either  just  ae  enjoyment  o' 
siller,  or  five  hunder  thousan'  million.  The  rich  maun  either  spend 
it  thick  and  fast,  as  a  nightingale  scatters  her  notes  on  the  happy 
air — or  sit  upon  his  guineas,  like  a  clockin'  hen  on  a  heap  o'  yellow 
addled  eggs  amang  the  nettles. 

North,  Picturesquely  true. 

Shepherd,  Oh,  sir !  what  delicht  to  a  wise  rich  man  in  being 
lavish — in  being  prodigal !  For  thae  twa  words  only  carry  blame 
alang  wi'  them  according  to  the  character  o*  the  giver  or  the  receiver. 
Wha  raair  lavish — wha  mair  prodigal  than  the  Sun  1  Yet  let  him 
shower  his  beams  for  ever  and  ever  all  ower  the  Planetary  System, 
frae  Venus  wi'  her  cestus  to  Saturn  wi'  his  ring,  and  nane  the 
poorer,  either  in  licht  or  in  heat,  is  he — and  nane  the  poorer  will  he 
ever  be,  till  the  hand  that  hung  him  on  high  shall  cut  the  golden 
cord  by  which  he  liveth  in  the  sky,  and  he  falls,  his  duty  done,  into 
the  bosom  of  Chaos  and  Old  Night ! 

North,  My  dear  Shepherd  ! 

Shepherd.  But  the  Sun  he  shineth  wi'  unborrowed  licht  There's 
the  bonnie  Moon,  God  bless  her  mildest  face,  that  loveth  still  to 
cheer  the  pensive  nicht  wi'  a  lustre  lent  her  by  the  joyful  day — to 
give  to  earth  a'  she  receives  frae  heaven.     Puir,  senseless,  ungratefu' 


Digitized  by 


Google 


ETTSIOK  FOREST.  261 

creturs  we !  Eyeing  her  frae  our  ain  narrow  vales,  we  ca'  her 
changefu'  and  inconstant !  But  is  na  she,  sweet  satellite,  for  ever 
journeying  on  her  gracious  round,  and  why  will  we  grudge  her 
smiles  to  them  far  frae  us^  seein'  we  are  a'  children  to  ae  Maker,  and, 
according  to  his  perfect  laws,  a'  partakers  in  the  same  impartial 
bounty  ?     Here's  a  nice  brown  shave  for  you,  sir. 

{The  Shepherd  rises  from  his  knees  on  the  rug — takes  the 
bread  from  the  prongs  of  the  Trident^  and  fresh  butters  it 
on  both  sides  for  Mr.  North,  who  receives  it  with  a  benign 
bow,) 

North.  Uncommonly  yellow  this  butter,  James,  for  the  season. 
The  grass  must  be  growing — 

Shepherd,  Ay,  you  may  hear't  growin*.  What  years  for  vege- 
tation the  last  beautifu'  and  glorious  Three  !  The  ongoings  o'  natur 
are  in  the  lang  run  regular  and  steady ; — ^but  noo  and  then  the 
mighty  mother  seems  to  obey  some  uncontrollable  impulse  far 
within  her  fair  large  bosom,  and  "  wantons  as  in  her  prime,"  out- 
doing her  very  self  in  beneficence  to  earth,  and  that  mysterious 
concave  we  ca  heaven. 

North,  In  spite  of  gout,  rheumatism,  lumbago,  corns,  and  chil- 
blains, into  the  Forest  shall  I  wend  my  way,  James,  before  mid- 
summer. 

Shpeherd,  And  young  and  auld  will  be  but  ower  happy  to  see 
you,  sir,  frae  the  lanely  Douglas  Tower  to  those  o'  Newark. 
Would  ye  believe't,  an  old  ash  stullion  in  the  garden  hedge  of 
Mount  Benger  shot  out  six  scions  last  year,  the  langest  o'  them 
nine,  and  the  shortest  seven  feet  lang  1  That  was  growin*  for  you, 
sir. 

North,  There  has  been  much  planting  of  trees  lately,  in  the 
Forest,  James  ? 

Shepherd,  To  my  taste,  to  tell  the  truth,  rather  ower  muckle — 
especially  o'  nurses. 

North,  Nurses !  wet  or  dry  nurses,  James  ? 

Shepherd.  Baith.  Larches  and  Scotch  firs;  or  you  may  ca' 
them  schoolmasters,  that  teach  the  young  idea  how  to  shoot.  But 
thinnins  in  the  Forest  never  can  pay,  I  suspcck  ;  and  except  on 
bleaky  knows,  the  hard  wood  wad  grow  better,  in  my  opinion,  left 
to  themsel Is,  without  either  nurses  or  schoolmasters.  The  nurses 
are  apt  to  overlay  the  weans,  and  the  schoolmasters  to  forget,  or 
what's  waur,  to  flog  their  pupils ;  and  thus  the  rising  is  a  stunted 
generation. 

North,  Forty-five  years  ago,  my  dear  James,  when  you  were  too 
young  to  remember  much,  I  loved  the  Forest  for  its  solitary  single 
trees,  ancient  yew  or  sycamore,  black  in  the  distance,  but  when 


Digitized  by 


Google 


2&2  NOCTBS  AHBROSJAX^ 

near,  bov  gloriously  green  !  Tall,  delicately -feathered  ash,  whose 
limbs  were  still  visible  in  latest  summer's  leafiness — birch,  in  early 
spring,  weeping  and  whispering  in  its  pensive  happiness  by  the 
perpetual  din  of  its  own  waterfalls-oak,  yellow  in  the  suns  of 
June — 

Shepherd,  **  The  grace  of  forest  wood  decayed, 

And  pastoral  melimcholy  T 

JTorth,  What  lovely  lines !     Who  writes  like  Wordsworth ! 

Shepherd,  Tuts!  Me  ower  young  to  remember  muckle  forty- 
fiv^e  years  ago !  You're  speakin'  havers.  I  was  then  twal — and  I 
remember  every  thing  I  ever  heard  or  saw  sinoe  I  was  three 
year  auld.  I  recolleck  the  momin'  I  was  pitten  intil  breeks  as 
distinckly  as  if  it  was  this  verra  day.  They  hurt  me  sair  atween 
the  fork  and  the  inside  o'  the  knees — but  oh !  1  was  a  prood  man — 
and  the  lamb  that  I  chased  all  the  way  frae  my  father's  hut  to 
Ettrick  Manse,  round  about  the  kirk,  till  I  caught  it  on  a  gowany 
grave,  and  lay  doon  wi't  in  my  arms  on  the  sunny  heap,  had  nae 
need  to  be  ashamed  o'  itsel',  for  I  hunted  it  like  a  colley — although 
when  1  grupped  it  at  last,  I  held  it  to  my  beatin'  bosom  as  tenderly 
as  ever  I  hae  since  done  wee  Jamie,  when  pitten  the  dear  cretur 
intil  the  crib  that  stauns  at  the  side  o'  his  mither's  bed,  afler  e'enin' 
prayers. 

North,  I  feel  not  undelightfully,  my  dear  James,  that  I  must  be 
waxing  old — very  old — for  of  the  last  ten  years  of  my  life  I  re- 
member almost  nothing  except  by  an  effort — whereas  the  first  ten 
— commencing  with  that  bright,  clear,  undying  light  that  borders 
the  edge  of  the  oblivion  of  infancy — have  been  lately  becoming 
more  intensely  distinct — so  that  often  the  past  is  with  me  as  it  were 
the  present — and  the  sad  gray -haired  ancient  is  again  a  blest  golden- 
headed  boy,  singing  a  chorus  with  the  breeze,  and  the  birds  and  the 
streams.     Alas  !  and  alack  a  day ! 

Shepherd,  *Tis  only  sae  that  we  ever  renew  our  youth.  Oh, 
sir!  I  hinna  forgotten  the  color  o'  the  plumage  o'  ae  single  dove 
that  ever  sat  cooin'  of  old  on  the  growin*  turf-riggin'  o'  my  father's 
hut !  Ae  great  muckle,  big,  beautifu'  ane  in  particular,  blue  as  if 
it  had  dropt  doon  frae  the  sky — I  see  the  noo,  a'  neck  and  bosom, 
cooin'  and  cooin'  deep  as  distant  thunder,  round  and  round  his 
mate,  wha  was  whiter  than  the  white  sae-faem,  makin'  love  to  the 
snawy  creture — wha  cowered  doon  in  fear  afore  her  imperious  and 
impassioned  lord — yet  in  love  stronger  than  fear — showing  hoo  in 
a'  leevin'  natur  passions  seemingly  the  maist  remote  frae  ane 
anither,  coalesce  into  mysterious  union  by  means  o'  ae  pervading 
and  interfusing  speerit,  that  quickens  the  pulses  o'  that  inscrutable 
secret — ^life ! 


Digitized  by 


Google 


SOX7BCE8  OF  LAKGUAGB. 

North,  All  linnets  have  died,  James — that  race  of  loveliest  lilters 
is  extinct 

Shepherd,  No  thae.  Broom  and  bracken  are  tenanted  by  the 
glad,  meek  creturs  still — but  the  chords  o'  musio  in  our  hearts  are 
sair  unstrung — the  harp  o'  our  heart  has  lost  its  melody.  But 
come  out  to  the  Forest,  my  dear,  my  honored  sir,  and  fear  not  then 
when  we  twa  are  walking  thegither  without  speakin'  among  the 
hillsy  you 

"  Will  feel  the  airs  that  from  them  blow, 
A  momeDtary  bliss  bestow," 

and  the  wild,  uncertain,  waverin'  music  o'  the  Eolian  harp  that 
natur  plays  upon  in  the  solitude,  will  again  echo  far  far  awa'  amang 
tiie  recesses  o'  your  heart,  and  the  linty  will  sing  as  sweetly  as  ever 
amang  the  blossoms  o'  the  milk-white  thorn.  Or,  if  you  canna  be 
brocht  to  feel  sae,  you'll  hae  but  to  look  in  my  wee  Jamie's  face, 
and  his  glistening  een  will  convince  you  that  Scotia's  nightingale 
still  singeth  as  sweetly  as  of  yore !     But  let  us  sit  into  the  fire,  sir. 

North,  Thank  you.  Shepherd — thank  you,  James. 

Shepherd^  {wheeling  his  father'* 8  chair  to  the  ingle-corner ^  and  sing- 
ing the  while,) 

"  Thesx^b  Oh&istophsr  North,  that  wonb  in  ton  glkn, 
He's  the  kino  o'  oudk  fallows  and  walk  o'  auld  msnT 

North,  I  cannot  bear,  James,  to  receive  such  attention  paid  to  my 
bodily  weakness — I  had  almost  said,  my  decrepitude — by  any  living 
soul  but  yourself.     How  is  that,  my  dear  Shepherd  ? 

Shepherd,  Because  1  treat  you  wi'  tenderness,  but  no  wi'  pity — 
wi'  sympathy,  but  no  wi'  compassion 

North,  My  dear  James,  ye  must  give  us  a  book  on  synonymes. 
What  delicacy  of  distinction  ! 

Shepherd,  I  suspeck,  sir,  that  mother  wut  and  mother  feelin'  hae 
mair  to  do  wi'  the  truth  o'  metaphysical  etymology  and  grammar, 
than  either  lair  or  labor.  Ken  the  meanin*,  by  self-experience,  o'  a' 
the  nicest  shades  o'  thoughts  and  feelings,  and  devil  the  fears  but 
you'll  ken  the  meanin's  o'  the  nicest  shades  o'  syllables  and 
words. 

North,  Grood,  James.  Language  flows  from  two  great  sources — 
the  head  and  the  heart     Each  feeds  ten  thousand  rills 

Shepherd,  Reflectin'  different  imagery — but  no  sae  very  different 
either — ^for — ^you  see 

North,  I  see  nothing,  James,  little  or  nothing,  till  you  blow  away 
the  intervening  mist  by  the  breath  of  genius,  and  then  the  whole 
world  outshines,  like  a  panorama  with  a  central  sun. 

Shepherd.  Ah  !  sir,  you  had  seen  the  hale  world  afore  ever  I  kcnt 
you — a  perfect  wandering  Ulysses. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


264  N0CTE8   AMBEOSIAN^. 

North.  Yes,  James,  I  have  circumnavigated  the  globe,  and  inter- 
sected it  through  all  its  zones,  and,  by  Jupiter,  there  is  not  a  climate 
comparable  to  that  of  Scotland. 

Shepherd,  1  belie v't.  Biest  be  Providence  for  having  saved  my 
life  frae  the  curse  o'  a  stagnant  sky — a  monotonous  heaven.  On 
flat  land,  and  aneath  an  ever  blue  lift,  I  should  soon  hae  been  a  per- 
feck  idiwit. 

North.  What  a  comical  chap,  James,  you  would  have  been,  had 
you  been  born  a  negro  ! 

Shepherd.  Aye — 1  think  I  see  you,  sir,  wi'  great  blubber  lips,  a 
mouthfu*  o'  muckle  white  horse's  teeth,  and  a  head  o'  hair  like  the 
woo  atween  a  rani's  horns  when  he*s  grown  ancient  amang  the 
mountains.  What  Desdemona  could  hae  stood  out  against  sic  an 
Othello? 

North,  Are  negroes,  gentlemen,  to  sit  in  both  Houses  of  Parlia- 
ment? 

Shepherd,  Nae  politics  the  nicht — nae  politics.  Fm  sick  o'  poli- 
tics. Let's  speak  about  the  weather.  This  has  been  a  fine  day, 
sirs. 

North,  A  first-rate  day,  indeed,  James.  Commend  me  to  a  Day 
who  does  not  stand  shilly-shallying  during  the  whole  morning  and 
forenoon,  with  hands  in  his  breeches*  pockets,  or  bitin'  his  nails, 
and  scratching  his  head,  unable  to  make  up  his  mind  in  what 
fancy  character  he  is  to  appear  from  meridian  to  sunset — but 
who 

Shepherd,  Breaks  out  o'  the  arms  o'  the  dark-haired  bricht-eed 
night,  with  the  power  and  pomp  o'  a  Titan,  and  frightenin'  that  bit 
puir  timid  lassie  the  Dawn  out  o'  her  seven  senses,  in  thunder  and 
lightning  a'  at  ance  storms  the  sky,  till  creation  is  drenched  in 
flood,  bathed  in  fire,  and  rocked  by  earthquake.  That's  the  day  for 
a  poet,  sirs — that's  a  pictur  for  the  ee,  and  that's  music  for  the 
lug  o'  imagination,  sirs,  till  ane's  verra  speerit  cums  to  creawte 
the  war  it  trummles  at,  and  to  be  composed  o'  the  self-same  vele- 
ments,  gloomin'  and  boomin',  blackenin'  and  brightenin',  pourin  and 
roarin',  and  awsomely  confusin'  and  confoundin'  heaven  and  earth, 
and  this  life  and  the  life  that  is  to  come,  and  a'  the  passions  that 
loup  up  at  sichts  and  souns,  joy,  hope,  fear,  terror,  exultation,  and 
that  mysterious  up-risin'  and  downfa'in'  o'  our  mortal  hearts,  con- 
nected some  hoo  or  ither  wi'  the  fleein  cluds,  and  the  tossin'  trees, 
and  the  red  rivers  in  spate,  and  the  sullen  looks  o'  black  bits  o'  sky 
like  faces,  together  wi'  ane  and  a'  o'  thae  restless  shows  o*  uneasy 
natur  appertain  in',  God  knows  hoo,  but  maist  certain  sure  it  is  so,  to 
the  region,  the  rueful  region  o'  man's  entailed  inheritance — the 
grave ! 

North,  James,  you  are  very  pale — very  white  about  the  gills — 


Digitized  by 


Google 


NATUBAI.  R£U010N.  265 

are  you  well  enough  ?  Turn  up  your  little  finger.  Pale  !  nay,  now 
they  are  more  of  the  color  of  my  hat — as  if 

**  In  the  scowl  of  heayen,  his  face 
Grew  black  as  he  was  spealdng." 

The  shadow  of  the  thunder-cloud  threatening  the  eyes  of  his  imagi- 
nation, has  absolutely  darkened  his  face  of  clay.  He  seems  at  a 
funeral,  James ! 

Shepherd,  Whare's  the  moral  ?  What's  the  use  of  thunder,  ex 
cept  in  a  free  country  ?  There's  nae  grandeur  in  the  terror  o'  slaves 
flingin'  themsells  doon  on  their  faces  amang  the  sugar-canes,  in  a 
tornawdo.  But  the  low  quick  beatin'  at  the  heart  o'  a  freeman,  a 
bauld-faced  son  o'  liberty,  when  simultawneous  flash  and  crash  rends 
Natur  to  her  core,  why  that  flutter,  sir,  that  does  homage  to  a  Power 
aboon  us,  exalts  the  dreadful  magnificence  o'  the  instruments  that 
Power  employs  to  subjugate  our  sowls  to  his  sway,  and  makes 
thunder  and  lichtnin',  in  sic  a  country  as  England  and  Scotland, 
sublime. 

North,  The  short  and  the  long  of  the  matter  seems  to  be,  James, 
that  when  it  thunders  you  funk. 

Shepherd,  Yes,  sir,  thunders  frightens  me  into  my  senses. 

North.  Well  said,  James — well  said. 

Shepherd,  Heaven  forgive  me,  but  ten  out  o'  the  eighteen  wakin' 
hours,  I  am  an  atheist. 

North,  And  I. 

Shepherd,  And  a'  men.  Puir,  pitifu',  ungratefii',  and  meeserable 
wretches  that  we  are — waur  than  worms.  An  atheist's  a  godless 
man.  Sweep  a'  thoughts  o'  his  Maker  out  o'  ony  man's  heart — 
and  what  better  is  he,  as  lang's  the  floor  o'  his  being  continues  bare^ 
than  an  atheist? 

North,  Little  better  indeed. 

Shepherd,  I  envy — I  honor — I  venerate — I  love — I  bless  the  man, 
who,  like  the  patriarchs  of  old,  ere  sin  drowned  the  world,  ever 
walks  with  God. 

North,  James,  here  we  must  not  get  too  solemn 

Shepherd,  That's  true ;  and  let  me  hope  that  I'm  no  sae  forgetfu' 
as  I  fear.  In  this  season  o'  the  year,  especially  when  the  flowers  are 
a'  seen  again  in  lauchin'  flocks  ower  the  braes,  like  children  returnin' 
to  school  after  a  lang  snaw,  I  can  wi'  truth  avoo,  that  the  sight  o'  a 
primrose  is  to  me  like  the  soun'  o'  a  prayer,  and  that  I  seldom  walk 
alone  by  myself  for  half  a  mile,  without  thochts  sae  calm  and  sae 
serene,  and  sae  humble  and  sae  grateful,  that  I  houp  I'm  uo  deceivin' 
myself  noo  when  I  venture  to  ca'  them — religious. 

North,  No,  James,  you  are  not  self-deceived.  Poetry  melts  into 
Religion. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


NCKrrES   AMBROBIANiB. 

Shepherd,  It  is  Religion,  sir;  for  what  is  Religion  but  a  clear — 
often  a  sudden — insicht,  accompanied  wi*  emotion,  into  the  depend- 
ence o*  a'  beauty  and  a'  glory  on  the  Divine  Mindl  A  wee  bit  dew- 
wat  gowany,  as  it  makes  a  scarcely  perceptible  sound  and  stir,  which 
it  often  d(»es,  amaiig  the  grass  that  loves  to  shelter  but  not  hide  the 
bonnie  earth-born  star,  glintin'  up  sae  kindly  wi'  its  face  into  mine, 
while  by  good  fortune  my  feet  touched  it  not,  has  hundreds  o'  times 
affected  nie  as  profoundly  as  ever  did  the  Sun  himsell  setting  in  a' 
his  glory — as  profoundly — and,  oh !  far  mair  tenderly,  for  a  thing 
that  grows  and  grows,  and  becomes  every  hour  mair  and  mair  beau- 
tifu*,  and  then  hangs  fixed  for  a  season  in  the  perfection  o'  its  lovely 
delicht,  and  then — wae  is  me — begins  t*)  be  a  little  dim — and  then 
diiiuiier  and  dimmer,  till  we  foel  that  it  is  indeed — in  very  truth, 
there's  nae  denyin't — fading — fading — faded — gone — dead — buried. 
Oh !  sir,  sic  an  existence  as  that  has  an  overwhelmin'  analogy  to  our 
ain  life— and  that  1  hae  felt—nor  doubt  I  that  you,  my  dear  sir,  hae 
felt  it  too — when  on  some  safl,  sweet,  silent  incense-breathing  morn- 
ing o'  spring — far  awa,  perhaps,  frae  the  smoke  o'  ony  human  dwell- 
in',  and  Nvalkin'  ye  cared  na,  kent  na  whither — sae  early  that  the 
ground-bets  were  but  beginnin*  to  hum  out  o'  their  bikes — when,  I 
say,  some  flower  suddenly  attracted  the  licht  within  your  ee,  wi'  a 
power  like  that  o'  the  loadstone,  and  though,  perhaps,  the  commonest 
o'  the  flowers  that  beautify  the  braes  o'  Scotland— only,  as  I  said,  a 
bit  ordinary  gowan — yet,  what  a  sudden  rush  o'thochts  and  feelings 
overflowed  your  soul  at  the  simple  sicht !  while  a*  nature  becara  for 
a  moment  overspread  wi'  a  tender  haze  belongin'  not  to  hersell,  for 
there  was  naething  there  to  bedim  her  brightness,  but  existin'  only 
in  your  ain  twa  silly  een,  sheddin'  in  the  solitude  a  few  holy  tears! 

JSbrth,  James,  1  will  trouble  you  for  the  red-herrings. 

Shepherd,  There.  Mr,  North,  I  could  write  twunty  vollumms 
about  the  weather.     Wad  they  sell  1 

North,  1  fear  they  might  be  deficient  in  incident 

Shepherd,  Naething  I  w rite's  ever  defieient  in  incident  Between 
us  three,  what  think  ye  o'  my  Shepherd's  Calendar  ? 

North.  Admirable,  my  dear  James,  admirable.  To  tell  you  the 
truth,  1  never  read  it  in  the  Magazine ;  but  I  was  told  the  papers 
were  universally  liked  there— and  now,  as  Vols.,  they  are  beyond- 
above — all  praise. 

Shepherd,  But  wull  you  say  that  in  black  and  white  in  the  Maga- 
zine ?  What's  the  use  o'  rousin'  a  body  to  their  face,  and  abusin' 
them  ahint  their  backs  ?  Setting  them  upon  a  pedestal  in  private, 
and  in  public  layin'  them  a'  their  length  on  the  floor  ?  You're  jeal- 
ous o'  me,  sir,  that's  the  real  truth, — and  you  wish  that  1  was  dead. 

North,  Pardon  me,  James,  I  merely  wish  that  you  had  never  been 
bom. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


THE   PASSION   OF  JEALOUSY.  267 

Shepherd.  That's  far  mair  wicked.  Oh!  but  jealousy  and  envy's 
•wa  delusive  passions,  and  they  pu'  you  doun  frae  your  aerial  alti- 
tude, sir,  like  twa  ravens  ruggin*  an  eagle  frae  the  sky. 

North.  From  literary  jealousy,  James,  even  of  you,  my  soul  is 
free  as  the  stone-shaded  well  in  your  garden  from  the  ditch-water 
that  flows  around  it  on  a  rainy  day.  I  but  flirt  with  the  Muses,  and 
when  they  are  faithless,  I  whistle  the  haggards  down  the  wind,  and 
puff*  all  care  away  with  a  cigar.  But  I  have  felt  fA«  jealousy,  James, 
and  of  all  passions  it  alone  springs  from  seed  wafled  into  tne  human 
heart  from  the  Upas  Tree  of  Hell. 

Shepherd.  Wheesht !  wheesht ! 

North,  Shakspeare  has  but  feebly  painted  that  passion  in  Othello. 
A  complete  failure.  I  never  was  married,  that  I  recollect — neither 
am  I  a  black  man, — therefore  I  do  not  pretend  to  be  a  judge  of 
Othello's  conduct  and  character.  But,  in  the  first  place,  Shakspeare 
ought  to  have  been  above  taking  an  anomalous  case  of  jealousy. 
How  could  a  black  husband  escape  being  jealous  of  a  white  wife  ? 
There  was  a  cause  of  jealousy  given  in  his  very  fate. 

Shepherd.  Eh?— what? — what?— eh?  Faith,  there's  something 
in  that  observation. 

North.  Besides,  had  Desdemona  lived,  she  would  have  produced 
a  mulatto.  Could  she  have  seen  their  *^  visages  in  their  minds?" 
Othello  and  she  going  to  church,  with  a  brcK)d  of  tawuies  — 

Shepherd.  I  dinna  like  to  hear  you  speakiu'  that  way.  Dinna  pro- 
fane poetry. 

North.  Let  not  poetry  profane  nature.  I  am  serious,  James. 
That  which  in  real  life  would  be  fulsome,  cannot  breathe .  sweetly 
in  fiction;  for  fiction  is  still  a  reflection  of  truth,  and  truth  is 
sacred. 

Shepherd.  I  agree  wi'  you  sae  for,  that  the  Passion  o'  Jealousy  in 
Luve  can  only  be  painted  wi'  perfect  natur  in  a  man  that  stands 
towards  a  woman  in  a  perfectly  natural  relation.  Otherwise,  the 
picture  may  be  well  painted,  but  it  is  still  but  a  picture  of  a  par- 
ticular and  singular  exhibition  o'  the  passion — in  short,  as  you  say, 
o'  an  anomaly.     I  like  a  word  I  dinna  weel  understan*. 

North.  Mr.  Wordsworth  caIU  Desdemona,  "the  gentle  lady 
married  to  the  Moor,"  and  the  line  has  been  often  quoted  and 
admired.  It  simply  asserts  two  facts — that  she  was  a  gentle  lady, 
and  that  she  was  married  to  the  Moor.     What  then  I 

Shepherd.  I  forgie  her — I  pity  her — but  1  can  wi'  difficulty  re- 
speck  her — I  confess.  It  was  a  curious  kind  o'  hankerin'  after  an 
opposite  color. 

North.  Change  the  character  and  condition  of  the  parties.  Can 
you  imagine  a  white  hero  falling  in  loTe  wi'  a  black  heroine,  in  a 


Digitized  by 


Google 


268  N0GTE8   AMBBOBIAN^ 

country  where  there  were  plenty  of  white  women  ?  Marrying  and 
murdering  her  in  an  agony  of  rage  and  love  ? 

Shepherd,  I  can  only  answer  for  myselL  I  never  could  bring 
my  sell  to  marry  a  Blackamoor. 

North,  Yet  they  are  often  sweet,  gentle,  affectionate,  meek,  mild, 
humble  and  devoted  creatures — Desdemonas. 

Shepherd,  But  men  and  women,  sir,  I  verily  believe,  are  different 
in  mony  things  respecting  the  passion  o'  luve.  I've  kent  bonnie, 
young,  bloomin'  lasses  fa'  in  luve  wi'  auld,  wizen'd,  yellow,  dis- 
gustin'  fallows — 1  hae  indeed,  sir.  It  was  their  fancy.  But  1  never 
heard  tell  o'  a  young,  handsome,  healthy  chiel  gettin'  impassioned 
on  an  auld,  wrunkled,  shranky  hag,  without  a  tocher.  Now,  sir, 
Othello  was  — 

North,  Well — well — let  it  pass  — 

Shepherd.  Ay — that's  the  way  o'  you — the  instant  you  begin  to 
see  the  argument  gaen  against  you,  you  turn  the  conversation,  either 
by  main  force,  or  by  a  quirk  or  a  sophism,  and  sae  escape  frae  the 
net  that  was  about  to  be  flung  ower  you,  and  like  a  bird,  awa'  up 
into  the  air — or  invisible  ower  the  edge  of  the  horizon. 

North,  Well,  then,  James,  what  say  you  to  lago  ? 

Shepherd,  What  about  him? 

North.  Is  his  character  in  nature  7 

Shepherd.  I  dinna  ken.     But  what  for  no  ? 

North,  What  was  his  motive?     Pure  love  of  mischief ? 

Shepherd,  Aiblins. 

North,  Pride  in  power,  and  in  skill  to  work  mischief? 

Shepherd.  Aiblins. 

North,  Did  he  hate  the  Moor  even  to  the  death  1 

Shepherd,  Aiblins. 

North.  Did  he  resolve  to  work  his  ruin,  let  the  consequences  to 
himself  be  what  they  might  1 

Shepherd.  It  would  seem  sae. 

North.  Did  he  know  that  his  own  ruin — his  own  death,  must 
follow  the  success  of  this  scheme? 

Shepherd,  Hoo  can  1  tell  that  ? 

North.  Was  he  blinded  utterly  to  such  result  by  his  wickedness 
directed  against  Othello? 

Shepherd,  Perhaps  he  was.     Hoo  can  I  tell  ? 

North,  Or  did  he  foresee  his  own  doom — and  still  go  on  unap- 
palled  ? 

Shepherd,  It  micht  be  sae,  for  ony  thing  I  ken  to  the  contrary. 
He  was  owre  cool  and  calculatin'  to  be  blinded. 

North,  Is  he  then  an  intelligible  or  an  unintelligible  character? 

Shepherd,  An  unintelligible. 

North,  Therefore  not  a  natural  character.     I  say,  James,  (hat  his 


Digitized  by 


Google 


6HAKSPEABB.  269 

conduct  from  first  to  last,  cannot  be  accounted  for  by  any  view  that 
can  be  taken  of  his  character.  The  whole  is  a  riddle — of  which 
Shalispeare  has  not  given  the  solution.  Now,  all  human  nature  is 
full  of  riddles ;  but  it  is  the  business  of  dramatic  poets  to  solve  them, 
and  this  one  Shakspeare  has  lefl  unsolved.  But  having  himself  pro- 
posed it,  he  was  bound  either  to  have  solved  it,  or  to  have  set  such 
a  riddle  as  the  wit  of  man  could  have  solved  in  two  centuries. 
Therefore 

Shepherd,  Othello  is  a  bad  play  ? 

North,  Not  bad,  but  not  good — that  is,  not  greatly  good — not  in 
the  first  order  of  harmonious  and  mysterious  creations — not  a  work 
worthy  of  Shakspeare. 

Shepherd,  Confound  me  if  I  can  tell  whether  you're  speakin* 
sense  or  nonsense — truth  or  havers  ;  or  whether  you  be  serious,  or 
only  playin'  aff  upon  me  some  o*  your  Mephistophiles  tricks.  I 
sflen  think  you're  an  evil  speerit  in  disguise,  and  that  your  greatest 
delight  is  in  confounding  truth  and  falsehood. 

North,  My  dear  James,  every  word  1  have  now  uttered  may  be 
mere  nonsense.     I  cannot  tell.     But  do  you  see  my  drifl  ? 

Shepherd,  Na.  I  see  you  like  a  veshel  tryin'  to  beat  up  against 
a  strong  wund  and  a  strong  tide,  and  driftin'  awa  to  leeward,  till  it's 
close  in  upon  the  shore,  and  about  to  gang  stem  foremost  in  amang 
the  rocks  and  the  breakers.  Sae  far  I  see  your  drifb,  and  nae 
farther.  You'll  soon  fa'  ower  on  your  beam  ends,  and  become  a 
total  wreck. 

North,  Well,  then,  mark  my  drift,  James.  We  idolize  Genius, 
to  the  neglect  of  the  worship  of  Virtue.  To  our  thoughts.  Genius 
is  all  in  all — Virtue  absolutely  nothing.  Human  nature  seems  to 
be  glorified  in  Shakspeare,  because  his  intellect  was  various  and 
vast,  and  because  it  comprehended  a  knowledge  of  all  the  work- 
ings, perhaps  of  human  being.  But  if  there  be  truth  in  that  faith 
to  which  the  Christian  world  is  bound,  how  dare  we,  on  that  ground, 
to  look  on  Shakspeare  as  almost  greater  and  better  than  Man? 
Why,  to  criticise  one  of  his  works  poorly,  or  badly,  or  insolently,  is 
it  held  to  be  blasphemy  ?  Why  %  Is  Genius  so  sacred,  so  holy  a 
thing,  per  se,  and  apart  from  Virtue  ?  Folly  all !  One  truly  good 
action  performed  is  worth  all  that  ever  Shakspeare  wrote.  Who  is 
the  Swan  of  Avon  in  comparison  to  the  humblest  being  that  ever 
purified  his  spirit  in  the  waters  of  eternal  life  1 

Shepherd,  Speak  awa!  I'll  no  interrupt  you — but  whether  I 
agree  wi'  you  or  no's  anither  question. 

North,  Only  listen,  James,  to  our  eulogies  on  Genius.  How  Vir- 
tue must  veil  her  radiant  forehead  before  that  idol !  How  the 
whole  world  speaks  out  her  ceaseless  sympathy  with  the  woes  of 
Genius !     How  silent  as  frost,  when  Virtue  pines !     Let  a  young 


Digitized  by 


Google 


270  NOCTE8   AMBROSIANiE. 

poet  poison  himself  in  wrathful  despair — and  all  the  Muses  weep 
over  his  unhallowed  bier.  Let  a  young  Christian  die  under  the 
visitation  of  God,  who  weeps  ?  No  eye  but  his  mother's  We 
know  that  such  deaths  are  every  day — every  hour — but  the  thought 
affects  us  not — we  have  no  thought — and  heap  after  heap  is  added, 
unbewailed,  to  city  or  country  churchyard.  But  let  a  poet,  forsooth, 
die  in  youth — pay  the  debt  of  nature  early — and  nature  herself 
throughout  her  elements,  must  in  turn  pay  tribute  to  his  shade. 

Shepherd.  Dinna  mak  me  unhappy,  sir — dinna  mak  me  sae  very 
unhappy,  sir,  I  beseech  you — try  and  explain  awa  what  you  hae 
said,  to  the  satisfaction  o  our  hearts  and  understandins. 

North.  Impossible.  We  are  base  idolaters.  'Tis  infatuation — 
not  religion.  Is  it  Genius,  or  is  it  Virtue,  that  shall  send  a  soul  to 
heaven  T 

Shepherd,  Virtue — there's  nae  denying  that ; — Virtue,  sir — 
Virtue. 

North.  Let  us  then  feel,  think,  speak,  and  act,  as  if  we  so  believed. 
Is  poetry  necessary  to  our  salvation.  Is  Paradise  Lost  better  than 
the  New  Testament? 

Shepherd.  Oh  !  dinna  mak  me  unhappy.  Say  again  that  Poetry 
is  religion. 

North.  Religion  has  in  it  the  finest  and  truest  spirit  of  poetry, 
and  the  finest  and  truest  spirit  of  poetry  has  in  it  the  spirit  of  reli- 
gion.    But  — 

Shepherd.  Sae  nae  mair — sae  nae  mair.     I'm  satisfied  wi'  that  — 

North.  Oh !  James,  it  makes  my  very  soul  sick  within  me  to  hear 
the  puny  whinings  poured  by  philosophical  sentimentalists  over  the 
failings — the  errors — the  vices  of  genius  !  There  has  been,  I  fear, 
too  much  of  that  traitorous  dereliction  of  the  only  true  faith,  even 
in  some  eloquent  eulogies  on  the  dead,  which  I  have  been  the  means 
of  giving  to  the  world.  Have  you  not  often  felt  that,  when  reading 
what  has  been  said  about  our  own  immortal  Bums  ? 

Shepherd.  I  have  in  my  calmer  moments. 

North.  While  the  hypocritical  and  the  base  exaggerated  all  that 
illustrious  man^s  aberrations  from  the  right  path,  nor  had  the  heart 
to  acknowledge  the  manifold  temptations  strewed  around  his  feet, 
— the  enthusiastic  and  the  generous  ran  into  the  other  extreme,  and 
weakly — I  must  not  say  wickedly — strove  to  extenuate  them  into 
mere  trifles — in  too  many  instances  to  deny  them  altogether ;  and 
when  too  flagrant  to  be  denied,  dared  to  declare  that  we  were  bound 
to  forget  and  forgive  them  on  the  score  of  the  poet's  genius — as  if 
genius,  the  guardian  of  virtue,  could  ever  be  regarded  as  the  pander 
to  vice,  and  the  slave  of  sin.  Thus  they  were  willing  to  sacrifice 
morality,  rather  than  that  the  idol  set  up  before  their  imagination 
should  be  degraded  ;  and  did  far  worse  injury,  and  oflTercd  fai  worse 


Digitized  by 


Google 


PHILOBOFHIOiLL  OKITIOISM.  271 

insult  to  Virtue  and  Religion,  by  thus  slurring  over  the  offences  of 
Burns  against  both,  than  ever  was  done  by  those  offences  themselves ; 
for  Burns  bitterly  repented  what  they  almost  canonized ;  and  the 
evil  practice  of  one  man  can  never  do  so  much  injury  to  society  as 
the  evil  theory  of  a  thousand.  Burns  erred  greatly  and  grievously ; 
and  since  the  world  knows  that  he  did,  as  well  from  friends  as  from 
foes,  let  us  be  lenient  and 'merciful  to  him,  whose  worth  was  great; 
but  just  and  faithful  to  that  law  of  right,  which  must  on  no  consid- 
eration be  violated  by  our  judgments,  but  which  must  maintain  and 
exercise  its  severe  and  sovereign  power  over  all  transgressions,  and 
more  especially  over  the  transgressions  of  those  to  whom  nature  has 
granted  endowments  that  might  have  been,  had  their  possessors 
nobly  willed  it,  the  ministers  of  unmingled  good  to  themselves  and 
the  whole  human  race. 

Shepherd,  You've  written  better  about  Burns  yoursell,  sir,  nor 
ony  body  else  breathin'.  That  you  hae — baith  better  and  aflener — 
and  a'  friends  of  the  poet  ought  to  be  grateful  to  Christopher 
North. 

North,  That  is  true  praise  coming  from  my  Shepherd.  But  1 
have  fallen  into  the  error  I  now  reprehended. 

Shepherd,  There's  a  set  o'  sumphs  that  say  periodical  literature 
has  degraded  the  haill  literature  o'  the  age.  They  refer  us  to  the 
standard  warks  o'  the  auld  school. 

North.  There  is  intolerable  impertinence  in  such  opinions — and 
disgusting  ignorance.  Where  is  the  body  of  philosophical  criticism 
of  which  these  prigs  keep  prating,  to  be  found  ?  Aristotle's  Poetics 
is  an  admirable  manual — as  fkr  as  it  goes — but  no  more  than  a 
manual— outlines  for  a  philosophical  lecturer  to  fill  up  into  a  theory. 
Quintilian  is  fuller — but  often  false  and  oftener  feeble — and  too 
formal  by  far.  Longinus  was  a  man  of  fine  enthusiasm,  and  wrote 
from  an  awakened  spirit.  But  he  was  not  a  master  of  principles — 
though  to  a  writer  so  eloquent  I  shall  not  deny  the  glory  of  deserv- 
ing that  famous  panegyric, 

**  And  18  himBelf  the  Great  Sublime  he  drawa" 

There  is  nothing  else  left  us  from  antiquity  deserving  the  name  of 
philosophical  criticism.  Of  the  French  school  of  philosophical  crit* 
icism,  1  need  say  nothing — La  Harpe  is  clear  and  sparkling  enough, 
but  very  common -place  and  very  shallow.  The  names  of  twenty 
others  prior  to  him  1  might  recollect  if  I  chose— but  1  choose  at 
present  to  forget  them  all — as  the  rest  of  the  world  has  done.  As 
to  the  £nglish  school,  Dryden  and  Dennis — forgive  the  junction, 
James — both  wrote  acute  criticism  ;  but  the  name  of  Dennis  but  for 
Pope  would  now  have  been  in  oblivion,  as  all  his  writings  are — 
and  *^  glorious  John"  had  never  gained  that  epithet — excellent  us 


Digitized  by. 


Google 


272  NO0TE8   AHBB08IAN.fi. 

they  are — by  his  prose  prefaces.  What  other  English  critic  flour- 
ished  before  the  present  age?  Addison.  His  Essays  on  the  Imagi- 
nation may  be  advantageously  read  by  young  ladies,  before  they 
paper  their  hair  with  such  flimsy  lucubrations. 

Sftepherd.  Til  no  alloo  ye  to  say  a  word  against  the  author  o'  the 
Vision  o'  Mirza.  As  for  the  Spectawtors,  I  never  could  thole  Uiem 
— no  even  Sir  Roger  Coventrey.  What  was  Sir  Roger  Coventrey 
to  Christopher  North  1 

North.  But,  James,  it  is  not  fair  ^to  compare  a  fictitious  with  a 
real  character. 

Shepherd,  No  fair,  perhaps  to  the  real  character;  but  mair  than 
fair  to  the  fictitious  ane. 

North,  As  for  the  German  critics — Lessing  and  Wieland  are  the 
best  of  them — and  I  allow  they  are  stars.  But  as  for  the  Schlegels, 
they  are  too  often  like  men  in  a  mist,  imagining  that  they  are 
among  mountains  by  the  side  of  a  loch  or  river,  while  in  good  truth 
they  are  walking  along  a  flat  by  the  side  of  a  canal. 

Shepherd,  Maist  unendurable  quacks  baith  o'  them,  I'll  swear. 
Fine  soundin'  words  and  lang  sentences — and  a  theory  to  account 
for  every  thing — for  every  man,  woman,  and  child,  that  ever  showed 
genius  in  ony  age  or  kintra !  as  if  there  was  ony  need  to  account 
for  a  production  o'  natur'  under  the  laws  o'  Natur's  God.  O'  a' 
reading  the  maist  entirely  useless,  waur  than  useless,  stupifyin',  is 
"cause  and  efl^eck.'*  Do  the  thing — and  be  done  wi't — whether  it 
be  a  poem,  or  a  statue,  or  a  picture,  or  an  oraution, — but  for  the 
love  o'  Heaven,  nae  botheration  about  the  cause  o'  its  origin  in  the 
climate  or  constitution  o'  the  kintra  that  gied  it  birth — nae — 

North,  Why,  James,  you  are  for  putting  an  end  to  all  philosophy. 

Shepherd,  Philosophy  ?     Havers. 

North,  Mr.  Wordsworth,  nettled  by  the  Edinburgh  Review,  speaks, 
in  a  note  to  a  Lyrical  Ballad,  of  "  Adam  Smith  as  the  worst  critic, 
David  Hume  excepted,  that  Scotland,  a  soil  favorable  to  that  species 
of  weed,  ever  produced."  Now  Adam  Smith  was  perhaps  the 
greatest  political  economist  the  world  has  yet  produced,  Ricardo 
excepted,  and  one  of  the  greatest  moralists, — I  do  not  know 
whom  to  except.  Witness  his  Wealth  of  Nations,  and  Theory  of 
Moral  Sentiments.  But  he  was  not  a  critic  at  all,  nor  pretended  to 
be  one,  James,  and  therefore  Mr.  Wordsworth  had  no  right  to  in- 
clude him  in  that  class.  He  may  have  occasionally  uttered  senti- 
ments about  poetry,  (where  authentically  recorded  ?)  with  which 
Mr.  Wordsworth  may  not  sympathize;  and  I  am  most  willing  to 
allow  that  Mr.  Wordsworth,  being  himself  a  great  poet,  knows  far 
more  about  it  than  Father  Adam.  But  'tis  childish,  and  contempti- 
ble, in  a  great  man  like  Mr.  Wordsworth,  to  give  vent  to  his  spleen 
towards  a  man,  in  many  things  as  much  his  superior  as  in  others  he 


Digitized  by 


Google 


WORD6WOETH  AND  HUME.  273 

was  his  inferior ;  and  erroneous  as  some  of  Adam  Smith's  vaguely 
and  inaccurately  reported  opinions  on  poetry  may  be,  not  one  of 
them,  I  will  venture  to  say,  was  ever  half  so  silly  and  so  senseless 
as  this  splenetic  note  of  the  Great  Laker. 

Shepherd,  Wordsworth  canna  thole  ony  thing  Scotch — ^no  even 
me  and  the  Queen's  Wake. 

North,  He's  greatly  to  be  pitied  for  his  narrow  and  anti-poetical 
prejudices  against  "  braid,"  and  poetical  Scotland,  "  and  stately 
Edinborough,  throned  on  crags  !"  Why,  James,  we  have  the  highest 
authority,  you  know,  for  calling  ourselves  a  nation  of  gentlemen. 

Shepherd.  We  didna  need  a  king  to  speak  nonsense  about  us,  to 
mak  us  proud.     Pride  and  Poverty  are  twuns. 

North.  Ay,  James,  many  of  our  gentlemen  are  poor  gentlemen 
indeed.  But  what  right  had  Mr.  Wordsworth  to  join  with  Adam 
Smith  the  name  of  David  Hume  in  one  expression  of  contempt  for 
the  critical  character  ?  Let  Mr.  Wordsworth  write  such  Essays  as 
Hume  wrote — such  a  History, — I  speak  now  merely  of  style — and 
then,  and  not  till  then,  may  he  venture,  unassailed  by  universal 
laughter,  to  call  David  Hume  "  a  weed."  He  was  "  a  bright  con- 
summate flower,"  James,  and  though  perhaps  he  did  not  think  it, — 
also  immortal  in  heaven  as  on  earth. 

Shepherd.  I  hate — I  abhor  to  hear  great  men  abusin',  and  preten- 
din',  for  it's  a'  pretence,  to  despise  ane  anither.  I  blush  for  them 
— I  hang  doon  my  head — I'm  forced  to — replenish  my  jug — ^to  for- 
get their  frailties  and  their  follies ;  and  thus  ye  see,  sir,  how  good 
springs  out  o'  evil.     Tak  anither  jug. 

North.  To-night  I  confine  myself  to  Turkish  oofiee. 

Shepherd.     Weel  then,  gee't  a  dash  o'  Glenlivit. 

North.  Not  a  bad  idea — let  me  try. 

(North  fills  up  his  cup  of  coffee  with  Glenlivit.) 

Shepherd,  Speak  awa,  sir — but  will  ye  forgie  me  for  sayin'  that 
in  lay  in'  about  you  richt  and  left,  you  aiblins  are  subjectin'  yoursel' 
to  the  same  censure  I  hae  been  passin'  just  now  on  ither  great 
men 

North.  But,  James,  this  is  a  private  party — a  privileged  place. 
Besides,  the  cases  are  not  parallel — I  am  in  the  right — they  are  in 
the  wrong — that  makes  all  the  difierence  in  the  world — crush  my 
opinions  first,  and  then  censure  their  utterance. 

Shepherd.  There's  plenty  to  censure  you  without  me.  The  haill 
periodical  press  censures  you — but  I  maun  confess  they  dinna  crush 
your  opinions. 

North.  Hume  and  Smith  formed  their  taste  on  the  classical 
models — ancient  and  modem — therefore  Mr.  Wordsworth  should 
have  considered 

Shepherd.  Tuts— tuts 

Vol.  in.— 19 


Digitized  by 


Google 


274  NOCTflS  AMBB08IAN1B. 

North.  As  to  our  Scotch  critics  of  a  former  age,  there  are  Gerard, 
and  Beattie^  and  Campbell,  and  Karnes,  and  Blair — all  writers  of 
great  merit.  Gerard,  copious,  clear,  and  acute, — though  not  a  man 
of  originality,  a  man  of  reflection.  His  volumes  on  Taste  and  on 
Genius  contain  many  excellent  yiews  and  many  good  illustrations. 
But  I  dare  say  Mr.  Wordsworth  never  heard  of  the  Aberdonian 
Professor.  Beattie  was  a  delightful  poet — that  Mr.  Wordsworth 
well  knows — and,  Mr.  Alison  excepted,*  the  best  writer  on  literature 
and  the  fine  arts  Britain  ever  produced — full  of  feeling  and  full  of 
genius.  Karnes  was  "gleg  as  any  wummle/' and  considering  his 
multifarious  studies,  the  author  of  the  Elements  of  Criticism  is  not 
to  be  sneezed  at — he  was  no  weed — a  real  rough  bur-thistle,  and 
that  is  not  a  weed,  but  a  fine  bold  national  flower.  As  to  Dr.  Blair, 
his  sermons — full  of  truth,  and  most  elegantly,  simply,  and  beauti- 
fully written-^will  live  thousands  of  years  afler  much  of  our  present 
pompous  preaching  is  dead,  and  buried,  and  forgotten — and  though 
his  Lectures  on  the  Belles  Lettres  are  a  compilation,  they  are  in- 
formed by  a  spirit  of  his  own — pure  and  graceful — and  though  the 
purity  and  the  grace  are  greater  than  the  power  and  the  originality — 
he  who  thinks  them  stupid  must  be  an  ass — and  let  him  bray  against 
the  Doctor  "  till  he  stretch  his  leathern  coat  almost  to  bursting." 

Shepherd.  I  never  read  a  single  word  o'  ane  o'  thae  books  you've 
been  speakin'  about — and  what  the  better  wad  I  hae  been,  tell  me, 
if  1  had  written  abstracts  o'  them  a',  and  committed  the  contents  to 
memory  % 

North,  Your  education,  James,  has  been  a  very  good  one,  and  well 
suited,  1  verily  believe,  to  your  native  genius.  But  you  will  allow 
that  other  people  may  have  been  the  better  of  them,  and  of  other 
books  on  various  subjects  ? 

Shepherd,  Ou  ay — Ou  ay  !  I'm  verra  liberal.  I  hae  nae  objections 
to  let  other  folk  read  a'  through  the  Advocates'  Library,  but  for  my 
ain  pairt,  I  read  nane 

North.  And  yet,  James,  you  are  extremely  well  informed  on  most 
subjects.  Indeed,  out  of  pure  science,  I  do  not  know  one  on  which 
you  are  ignorant.     How  is  that  ? 

Shepherd,  I  canna  say.  I  only  ken  I  read  amaist  nane — no  eveu 
the  Magazine,  except  my  ain  articles — and  noo  and  then  a  Noctes, 
which  I'm  entitled  to  consider  my  ain  articles;  for  without  the 
Shepherd,  Gurney,  would  na  ye  be  aff  to  Norwich — would  na  ye, 
Gumey  ? 

Mr,  Chimey^  (with  stentorian  lungs.)  Yks  !  like  a  shot. 

North.  As  my  admirable  friend,  Mr.  Campbell,  says 

"  Without  the  laugh  from  partial  shepherd  woo, 
O  what  were  we  t  a  world  without  a  son ! " 

^  The  ReT.  A.  AlUon,  author  of  tho  *'  En&y  on  th«  N&tor*  and  PrinciplM  of  Tatte."  and 
father  of  the  Hiitorian.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


DB.    JOHNSON.  275 

Shepherd.  I  hate  to  hear  leevin^  folk,  that  never  wrote  books,  or 
did  ODj  thing  else  remarkable,  gossiped  about,  and  a^  their  stupid 
clishmaclaver,  by  way  o'  wut,  retailed  by  their  puny  adherents,  mair 
childish  if  possible  than  themsells — a  common  nuisance  in  £mbro 
society,  especially  amang  advocates  and  writers — but  I  love  to  hear 
about  the  dead — famous  authors  in  their  day — even  although  I  ken  but 
the  sound  of  their  bare  names,  and  cud  na  spell  them,  aiblins,  in 
writin'  them  doon  on  paper.     Say  on. 

North,  I  forget  old  Sam,  a  jewel  rough  set,  yet  shining  like  a  star ; 
and  though  sandblind  by  nature,  and  bigoted  by  education,  one  of 
the  truly  great  men  of  England,  and  "  her  men  are  of  men  the  chief,'' 
alike  in  the  dominions  of  the  understanding,  the  reason,  the  passions, 
and  the  imaginations.  No  prig  shall  ever  persuade  me  that  Rasselas 
is  not  a  noble  performance,  in  design  and  in  execution.  Never  were 
the  expenses  of  a  mother's  funeral  more  gloriously  defrayed  by  son^ 
than  the  funeral  of  Samuel  Johnson's  mother  by  the  price  of  Rasselas, 
written  for  the  pious  purpose  of  laying  her  head  decently  and  hon- 
orably in  the  dust. 

Shepherd,  Ay,  that  was  pitten  literature  and  genius  to  a  glorious 
purpose  indeed ;  and  therefore,  nature  and  religion  smiled  on  the 
wark,  and  have  stamped  it  with  immortality. 

North,  Samuel  was  seventy  years  old  when  he  wrote  tiie  Lives  of 
the  Poets. 

Shepherd,  What  a  fine  auld  buck  !     No  unlike  yoursel'. 

North,  Would  it  were  so !  He  had  his  prejudices  and  his  partial- 
ities, and  his  bigotries,  and  his  blindnesses,  but  on  the  same  ^it- 
tree  you  see  shrivelled  pears  or  apples  on  the  same  branch  with  jar- 
gonelles or  golden  pippins  worthy  of  Paradise.  Which  would  ye 
show  to  the  Horticultural  Society  as  a  fair  specimen  of  the  tree  1 
{Mimicking  the  old  man^s  voice  and  manner,) 

Shepherd,  Good,  Kit,  good — ^philosophically  picturesque. 

North.  Show  me  the  critique  that  beats  his  on  Pope,  and  on  Dry- 
den,  nay,  even  on  Milton  ;  and  hang  me  if  you  may  not  read  his  Es- 
say on  Shakspeare  even  after  having  read  Charles  Lamb,  or  heard 
Cbleridge,  with  increased  admiration  of  the  powers  of  all  three,  and 
of  their  insight  through  different  avenues,  and  as  it  might  seem,  al- 
most with  different  bodily  and  mental  organs,  into  Shakspeare's 
"  old  exhausted,"  and  his  **  new  imagined  worlds."  He  was  a  critic 
and  a  moralist  who  would  have  been  wholly  wise,  had  he  not  been 
partly,  constitutionally  insane.  For  there  is  blood  in  the  brain, 
Jame4 — even  in  the  organ — the  vital  principle  of  all  our  "  eagle- 
winged  raptures ; " — and  there  was  a  tamt  of  the  black  drop  of  mel- 
ancholy in  his 

Shepherd,  Wheesht — wheesht — ^let  us  keep  aff  that  subject     All 


Digitized  by 


Google 


276  NOOTES  AHBBOSIAN^. 

men  ever  I  knew  are  mad  ;  and  but  for  that  law  o'  natur,  never, 
never  in  this  warld  had  there  been  a  Noctes  Ambrosianae ! 

North.  Oh,  dear !  oh,  dear !  I  have  forgot  Edmund  Burke,  and 
Sir  Joshua — par  nobile  fratrum.  The  Treatise  on  the  Sublime  and 
Beautiful,  though  written  when  Ned  was  a  mere  boy,*  shows  a  noble 
mind,  clutching  at  all  times  at  the  truth,  and  oflen  grasping  it  for  a 
moment,  though,  like  celestial  quicksilver,  it  evanishes  out  of  hand. 
Of  voluptuous  animal  beauty,  the  illustrious  Irishman  had  that  pas- 
sionate sense,  not  unprofound,  with  which  nature  has  gifted  the  spirit 
of  all  his  race.  And  he  had  a  soul  that  could  rise  up  from  languish- 
ment  on  Beauty's  lap,  and  aspire  to  the  brows  of  the  sublime.  His 
juvenile  Essay  contains  some  splendid — some  magnificent  passages ; 
and  with  all  its  imperfections,  defects,  and  failures,  may  be  placed 
among  the  highest  attempts  made  by  the  human  mind  to  cross  the 
debatable  land  that  lies  between  the  kingdoms  of  Feeling  and  of 
Thought,  of  Sense  and  Imagination. 

Shepherd.  That's  gaen  misty,  and  wudna  be  easy  got  aff  by 
heart. 

North.  As  for  Sir  Joshua,  with  pen  and  pencil  he  was  equally  a 
great  man. 

Shepherd.  A  great  man  ? 

North.  Yes.  What  but  genius  as  original  as  exquisite  oould 
have  flung  a  robe  of  grace  over  even  a  vulgar  form,  as  if  the  hand 
of  nature  had  drawn  the  aerial  charm  over  the  attitudes  and  motions 
thus  magically  elevated  into  ideal  beauty  ?  Still  retaining,  by  some 
finest  skill,  the  similitude  of  all  the  lineaments,  what  easy  flowing 
outlines  adorned  the  canvas,  deceiving  the  cheated  sitter  or  walker 
into  the  pardonable  delusion  that  she  was  one  of  the  Graces— or 
Muses,  at  the  least — nay,  Venus  herself  looking  out  for  Mars  on  the 
distant  horizon,  or  awaiting  Anchises  on  the  hill. 

Shepherd.  Even  I,  sir,  a  shepherd  ^— 

North.   The  Shepherd,  my  dear  James. 

Shepherd,  Even  I,  sir.  The  Shepherd — though  mair  impressible 
by  beauty  than  by  grace,  know  what  grace  is,  ever  since  the  first 
time  I  saw  a  wild  swan  comin'  floatin'  wi'  uplifted  wings  down 
afore  the  wind  trough  amang  the  rippled  water-lilies  that  stretch 
frae  baith  shores  far  intil  ae  pairt  o'  St.  Mary's  Loch,  leavin'  but  a 
narrow  dark-blue  channel  for  the  gracefu'  naaid  to  come  glidin* 
through,  wi'  her  lang,  smooth,  white  neck  bendin'  back  atween  her 
snaw-white  sails,  and  her  full  breast  seemin',  as  it  ploughed  the 
sma'  sunny  waves,  whiter  and  whiter  still — noo  smooth — smooth — 
and  noo  slightly  rufiied,  as  the  foam  half  dashed  against  and  half 
flew  awa'  without  tuchin't,  frae  the  beautiful  protrusion  o'  that 
depth  o'  down ! 

*  Aooording  to  foma  aooonnu,  he  wm  36,— «thMi  mak*  him  only  M. — M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


FBRIODIOAL  0BITI0I8M.  277 

North.  Verra  weel — nae  mair,  Jamie.  Then  as  to  Sir  Joshua's 
writings,  their  spirit  is  all  in  delightful  keeping  with  his  pictures. 
One  of  the  few  painters  he — such  as  Leonardo  Da  Vinci,  Michael 
Angelo,  and  so  on — our  own  Barry,  Opie,  Fuseli,  and  so  on — who 
could  express  by  the  pen  the  principles  which  guide  the  pencil. 
Tis  the  only  work  on  art  which,  to  men  not  artists,  is  entirely  intel- 
ligible   

Shepherd.  The  less  painters  in  general  write  the  better,  I  sus- 
peck. 

North.  But  what  led  to  our  conversation  about  philosophical  crit- 
icism ?  Oh !  I  have  it.  Well  then,  James,  compare  with  this 
slight  sketch  of  the  doings  of  the  men  of  former  generations,  from 
the  beginning  of  time  down  to  nearly  the  French  Revolution,  those 
of  our  present  race  of  critics — in  Britain — and  how  great  our  supe- 
riority !  Dugald  Stewart  has  just  left  us, — and  thongh  his  poetical 
was  not  so  good  as  his  philosophical  education, — and  though  his 
eye  had  scarcely  got  accustomed  to  the  present  bright  flush  of 
Foetry,  yet  his  delightful  volume  of  Miscellaneous  Essays  proves 
that  he  stood — ^and  for  ever  will  stand — in  the  First  Order  of  critics, 
— generous,  enthusiastic,  and  even  impassioned,  far  beyond  the  hair- 
splitting spirit  of  the  mere  metaphysician.  And  there  is  our  own 
Alison,  still  lefb,  and  long  may  he  be  left  to  us,  whose  work  on 
Taste  and  the  Association  of  Ideas,  ought  to  be  in  the  hands  of 
every  poet,  and  of  every  lover  of  poetry, — so  clear  in  its  statement, 
so  rich  in  its  illustration  of  principles. 

Shepherd.  This  seems  to  me  to  be  the  only  age  of  the  world,  sir, 
in  which  poetry  and  creetishism  ever  gaed,  like  sisters,  hand  in 
hand,  encircled  wi'  a  wreath  o'  flowers. 

North.  Now — all  our  philosophical  criticism— or  nearly  all — is 
periodical ;  and  fortunate  that  it  is  so  both  for  taste  and  genius.  It 
is  poured  daily,  weekly,  monthly,  quarterly,  into  the  veins  of  the 
people,  mixing  with  their  very  heart- blood.  Nay,  it  is  like  the  very 
air  they  breathe. 

Shepherd.  Do  you  mean  to  say,  "  if  they  have  it  not  they  die  ?'* 

North.  Were  it  withheld  from  them  now,  their  souls  would  die 
or  become  stultified.  Formerly,  when  such  disquisitions  were  con- 
fined to  quarto  or  octavo  volumes,  in  which  there  was  nothing  else, 
the  author  made  one  great  eflbrt,  and  died  in  book-birth — his  off*- 
spring  sharing  often  the  doom  of  its  unhappy  parent.  If  it  lived,  it 
was  forthwith  immured  in  a  prison  called  a  library — an  uncircu- 
lating  library — and  was  heard  no  more  of  in  this  world,  but  by 
certain  worms. 

Shepherd.  A'  the  warld's  hotchin'  wi'  authors  noo,  like  a  pond  wi^ 
pow-heads.  Out  sallies  Christopher  North  frae  amang  the  reeds, 
like  a  pike,  and  crunches  them  in  thousands. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


278  NOOTES  AMBBOSIAK^ 

North,  Our  current  periodica]  literature  teems  with  thought  and 
feeling,  James, — with  passion  and  imagination.  There  was  Gifford, 
and  there  are  Jeffrey,  and  Southey,  and  Campbell,  and  Moore,  and 
Bowles,  and  Sir  Walter,  and  Lockhart,  and  Lamb,  and  Wilson,  and 
De  Quincey,  and  the  four  Coleridges,  (S.  T.  C,  John,  Hartley,  and 
Derwent,)  and  Croly,  and  Maginn,  and  Maokiniosh,  and  Cunning- 
ham, and  Kennedy,  and  Stebbing,  and  St.  L#edger,  and  Knight,  and 
Praed,  and  Lord  Dudley  and  Ward,  and  Lord  L.  Gower,  and  Charles 
Grant,  and  Hobhouse,  and  Blunt,  and  Mil  man,  and  Carlyle,  aad 
Macaulay,  and  the  two  Moiru,  and  Jerdaii,  and  Talfourd,  and  Bow- 
ring,  and  North,  and  Hogg,  and  Tickler,  and  twenty — forty — fifty 
-—other  crack  contributors  to  the  Reviews,  Magazines  and  Gazettes, 
who  have  said  more  tender,  and  true,  and  fine,  and  deep  things  in 
the  way  of  criticism,  than  ever  was  said  before  since  the  reign  of 
Cadmus,  ten  thousand  times  over, — not  in  long,  dull,  heavy,  ^rrnal, 
prosy  theories, — but  flung  off  hand,  out  of  the  glowing  mint — a  coin- 
age of  the  purest  ore — and  stamped  with  the  ineffaceable  impress  of 
genius.  Who  so  elevated  in  intellectual  rank  as  to  be  entitled  to 
despise  such  a  periodical  literature  ? 

Shepherd.  Nae  leevin'  man — nor  yet  dead  ane. 

North,  The  whole  surface  of  society,  James,  is  thus  irrigated  by 
a  thousand  streams ;  some  deep — some  shallow 

Shepherd.  And  the  shallow  are  sufficient  for  the  purpose  o'  irri- 
gation. Water  three  inches  deep,  skilful  and  timeously  conducted 
owre  a  flat  o*  fifty  or  a  hunder  acres,  wull  change  arid  sterility,  on 
which  half-a-score  sheep  would  be  st-arved  in  a  month  intil  skele- 
tons, intil  a  flush  o'  flowery  herbage  that  will  fbed  and  fatten  a  haill 
score  o'  kye.  You'll  see  a  proof  o*  this  when  you  come  out  to 
Mount  Benger.  But  no  to  dwall  on  ae  image — let  me  say  that  mil- 
lions are  thus  pleased  and  instructed,  who  otherwise  would  go  dull 
and  ignorant  to  their  graves. 

North.  Every  month  adds  to  the  number  of  these  admirable 
works  ;  and  from  the  conflict  of  parties,  political,  poetical,  and  philo- 
sophical, emerges  in  all  her  brightness  the  form  of  Truth.  Why, 
there,  James,  lies  The  Spectator,  a  new  weekly  paper,  of  some 
half-year's  standing,  or  so,  of  the  highest  merit,  and  1  wish  I  had 
some  way  of  strenuously  recommending  it  to  the  reading  publia 
The  editor,  indeed,  is  Whiggish  and  a  Pro-Catholic,  but  moderate, 
steady,  and  consistent  in  his  politics.*  Let  us  have  no  turncoats. 
His  precis  of  passing  politics  is  always  admirable  ;  his  mercantile  in- 
formation— that  I  know  on  the  authority  of  as  good  a  judge  as  lives 
— is  correct  and  comprehensive;  miscellaneous  news  are  collected 

*  Mr.  RiBtoal  had  been  one  of  the  editon  of  The  .Stlas,  but  separated  from  that  pai>er,  and 
eommenoed  The  Spectator^  which  he  continue*  to  conduct.  It  is  one  of  the  best  weekly  jour- 
nals in  ]  j>ndon,  distinguished  \>j  its  great  common  sense  in  political,  and  Its  Irapardality  in 
literary  criticism. — M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


LONDON  JOU&NALB.  279 

judiciously  and  amusingly  from  all  quarters ;  the  literary  department 
is  equal,  on  the  whole,  to  that  of  any  other  weekly  periodical,  such 
as  the  Literary  Gazette,  (which,  however,  has  the  great  advantage  of 
being  altogether  literary  and  scientific,  and  stands,  beyond  dispute, 
at  the  head  of  its  own  class,)  Weekly  Review,  Athenaeum,  Sphynx, 
Atlas,  or  others,*  f  nowhere  see  better  criticism  on  poetry,  and  no- 
where nearly  so  good  criticism  on  theatricals.  Some  critiques  there 
have  been,  in  that  department,  superior,  in  exquisite  truth  of  tact,  to 
anything  I  remember — worthy  of  Elia  himself,  though  not  apparently 
from  Elia;f  and  in  accounts  of  foreign  literature,  especially  French, 
and  above  all,  of  French  politics,  a  subject  on  which  I  need  to  be  en- 
lightened, I  have  seen  no  periodical  at  all  equal  to  the  Spectator. 

Shepherd,  The  numbers  you  sent  out  by  deserved  a'  thai  ye  say 
o'  them.  It's  a  maist  enterteenin'  and  instructive — a  maist  miscel- 
lawneous  Miscellany. 

North,  And  without  being  wish- washy  — 

Shepherd,  Or  wersh 

North,  The  Spectator  is  impartial.  It  is  a  fair,  open,  honest,  and 
manly  periodical. 

Shepherd,  Wheesht !  I  hear  a  rustlin'  in  the  letter-box. 

North,  John  will  have  brought  up  my  newspapers  from  the  Lodge, 
expecting  that  I  am  not  to  be  at  home  to  dinner. 

Shepherd,  Denner  !  it's  near  the  daw'in' ! 

(The  Shbpherd  opens  the  letter-box  in  the  door,  and  lays  down 
nearly  a  dozen  newspapers  on  the  table.) 

North,  Ay,  there  they  are,  the  Herald,  the  Morning  Post,  the 
Morning  Journal,  the  Courier,  the  Globe,  the  Standard,  and  "  the 
rest."  Let  me  take  a  look  into  the  Standard,  as  able,  argumentative, 
and  eloquent  a  paper,  as  ever  supported  civil  and  religious  liberty  ; 
that  is,  rrotestantism  in  Church  and  State.  No  disparagement  to  its 
staunch  brother  the  Morning  Journal,  or  its  excellent  cousin  the 
Morning  Post.  Two  strong,  steady,  well-bred  wheelers  and  a  leader 
that  shows  blood  at  all  points,  and  covers  his  ground  like  the  Phe- 
nomenon.    No  superior  set-out  to  an — Unicom. 

(North  unfolds  the  Standard.) 

Shepherd,  I  never  read  prent  after  twal.  And  as  for  newspapers, 
I  care  na  if  they  should  be  a  month  auld.     It's  pitifu'  to  see  some 

*  In  1829,  the  Literary  OazetUy  under  Mr.  Jordan's  editonhip,  was  nnq-aestionably  at  the 
head  of  iu  clan.  Of  late  yean  it  much  declined,  but  now  [1854]  seems,  like  an  eagle,  renew 
ine  iu  ronth  and  vigor.  The  London  fVeekly  Review,  one  of  the  best  literary  journaU  ♦jver 
published  in  London,  died  early  in  1830.  The  Spht/nz^  one  of  J.  S.  Buckingham's  many 
oe-wspapers,  died  before  1829  was  ended.  The  JiUas^  then  ably  conducted  by  Robert  Hell,  has 
fldlen  into  small  circnlation.     The  Atkenau-m^  in  Buckingham's  hands  in  1829,  changed  pro- 

E'eton  in  the  autumn  of  1630,  and  obtained  a  large  circulation  by  reducing  its  price  one- 
If.— M. 

t  Charles  LamVs  proee  articles  were  usually  signed  *' Elia.*'— There  had  been  a  clerk,  so 
named,  in  the  East  India  House,  in  which  Lamb  had  a  situation,  and  Lamb  attached  his 
name  to  the  first  paper  he  sent  for  publication.  The  next  was  unsigned,  and  the  piintei  r»- 
peated  the  frrmar  ngnature,  whioh  was  inTaiiably  oontinned  after  that.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


HOCTES  AMBEOOASM. 

folk — ^nae  fules  neither — unhappy  if  their  paper  misses  comin'  onj 
night  by  the  post.  For  my  ain  part,  I  like  best  to  receive  a  great 
heap  o'  them  at  anoe  in  a  parshal  by  the  carrier.  Ony  news, 
North  ? 

J^orth.  Eh? 

Sheplurd.  Ony  news?    Are  you  deaf?  or  ony  absent? 

J^orth.  Eh? 

Shepherd   There's  mainners — the  mainners  o'  a  gentleman— o*  the 
auld  school,  too.     Ony  news? 

North.  Hem — hem 

Shepherd,  His  mind's  weaken'd.     Millions  o'  reasonable  creatures 
at  this  hour  perhaps — na — ^no  at  this  hour,  but  a'  this  evenin' — read- 
in'  newspapers  !     And  that's  the  philosophy  o'  human  life !     London 
sendin'  out,  as  frae  a  great  reservoir,  rivers  o*  reports,  spates  o*  spec- 
ulations to  inundate,  to  droon,  to  deluge  the  haill  island  !     I  hear  the 
torrents  roarin',  but  the  soun'  fa's  on  my  ear  without  stunnin'  my 
heart.      There  comes  a  drought,  and  they  are  a'  dry.     Catholic 
Emancipation  !     Stern  shades  of  the  old  Covenanters,  methinks  I 
hear  your  voices  on  the  moors  and  the  mountains !     But  weep  not, 
wail  not,  though  a  black  cloud  seems  to  be  hanging  over  all  the 
land  !     Still  will  the  daisy,  "  wee  modest  crimson-tipped  flower," 
bloom  sweetly  on  the  greensward  that  of  yore  was  reddened  wi'  your 
patriot,  your  martyr-blood.     Still  will  the  fox-glove,  as  the  silent 
ground-bee  bends  doun  the  lovely  hanging  bells,  shake  the  pure  tears 
of  heaven  over  your  hallowed  graves!     Though  annual  fires  run 
along  the  bonnie  blooniin'  heather,  yet  the  shepherds  ne'er  miss  the 
balm  and  brightness  still  lefl  at  momin'  to  meet  them  on  the  solitary 
hills.     The  sound  of  Psalms  rises  not  now,  as  they  sublimely  did  in 
those  troubled  times,  from  a  tabernacle  not  built  with  hands,  whose 
side-walls  were  the  rocks  and  cliffs,  its  floor  the  spacious  sward,  and 
its  roof  the  eternal  heavens.     But  from  beneath  many  a  lowly  roof 
of  house,  and  hut,  and  hovel,  and  shielin',  and  sylvan  cosy  beild,  as- 
cend the  humble,  holy  orisons  of  poor  and  happy  men,  who,  when 
comes  the  hour  of  sickness  or  of  death,  desire  no  other  pillow  for 
their  swimming  brain  than  that  Bible,  which  to  them  is  the  Book  of 
everlasting  life,  even  as  the  Sun  is  the  Orb  of  the  transitory  day. 
And  to  maintain  that  faith  is  now,  alas !  bigotry  and  superstition  ! 
The  Bible  is  to  take  care  of  itself.     If  it  cannot,  let  it  perish!     Let 
innocence  and  virtue,  and  truth  and  knowledge  and  fre^om  all  take 
care  of  themselves,  and  let  all  their  enemies  seek,  as  they  will,  insid- 
iously to  seduce,  openly  to  outrage;  for  if  they  cannot  stand  fast 
against  all  the  powers  of  evil,  they  deserve  to  die !     And  this  it  seems 
is— Christian  doctrine !     It  may  be  held  sae  in  great  cities,  where 
sin  sits  in  high  places,  where  the  weak  soon  become  worthless,  and 
the  worthless  wicked,  and  the  wicked  blind  ;  but  never,  never  will 


Digitized  by 


Google 


THE  NEWBPAPBB.  281 

it  be  the  creed  of  the  dwellers  on  the  gracious  bosom  of  nature  !  Of 
those  who,  whether  amang  spacious  tree-sprinkled  plains  made  beau- 
tifu*  and  solemn  wl'  a  hundred  church  towers  and  cathedrals,  at  work 
or  in  pastime  lifl  up  a  gaze,  bold  before  man,  but  meek  before  God, 
to  the  blue  marbled  skies  of  merry  and  magnificent  England  !  Of 
those  who,  beneath  mist  and  cloud,  wanderin'  through  lonely  regions, 
whose  silence  hears  but  the  eagle's  cry  or  the  torrent's  roar,  as  they 
pass  by  the  little  kirk  on  the  knowe,  let  their  soflened  een  follow  up 
the  spire,  till  fi*om  its  sunlicht-point  momentarily  glancin'  through 
the  gloom,  they  muse  on  the  storm-driflin'  heavens  through  which 
shines  as  brightly  as  in  the  fairest  clime  the  eye  o'  the  all-seeing 
God.  But  where  am  11  In  the  silence  1  thocht  it  was  the  Sabbath, 
and  that  1  was  in  the  Forest.  High  thochts  and  pure  feelings  can 
'never  come  amiss,  either  in  place  or  in  time.  Folk  that  hae  been 
pra)in'  in  a  kirk,  may  laugh,  withouten  blame,  when  they  hae  left 
the  kirkyard.  Silly  thochts  maun  never  be  allow'd  to  steal  in 
amang  sacred  anes,  but  there  never  can  be  ony  harm  in  sacred  thochts 
stealing  in  amang  silly  anes.  A  bit  bird  singin'  by  itsell  in  the  wil- 
derness has  sometimes  made  me  amaist  greet,  in  a  mysterious  mel« 
ancholy  that  seemed  wafted  towards  me  on  the  solitary  strain,  frae 
regions  ayond  the  grave.  But  it  flitted  awa  into  silence,  and  in  twa 
or  three  minutes  I  was  singin'  ane  o'  my  ain  cheerful — nay,  funny 
sangs.  Mr.  North,  I  say,  will  ye  never  hae  dune  readin'  at  that 
Stannard  f  It's  a  capital  paper — ^I  ken  that — nane  better — na,  nane 
sa  gude,  for  it's  faithful  and  fearless,  and  cuts  like  a  twa-handed  twa- 
edged  swurd.  Mr.  North,  I  say.  Til  begin  to  get  real  angry  if  you'll 
no  speak.  O  man !  but  that's  desperate  bad  mainners  to  keep 
glowering  like  a  gawpus  on  a  newspaper,  at  what  was  meant  to  be  a 
crick-crack  between  twa  auld  friens.  Fling't  doon.  I'm  sayin',  sir, 
fling't  doon.  O  but  you're  ugly  the  noo— and  what's  waur,  there's 
nae  mcaain'  in  your  face.  You're  a  puir,  auld,  ugly,  stupid,  vulgar, 
disagreeable,  and  dishonest-looking  fellow,  and  am  baith  sorry  and 
ashamed  that  I  sud  be  sittin'  in  sic  company.  Fling  doon  the  Stan- 
nard— if  you  dinna,  it'll  be  waur  for  you,  for  you've  raised  my  cor- 
ruption. Flesh  and  bluid  can  bear  this  treatment  nae  langer.  I'll 
gie  just  ae  mair  wamin'.  Fling  doon  the  Stannard.*  Na,  yon 
wunna — won't  you  I     Weel,  tak  that 

(  The  Shkphsiid  throws  a  glass  of  toddy  in  Mr.  North's  face,) 
North,  Ha !  What  the  deuce  is  that  ?     My  cup  has  jumped  out 
of  my  hand  and  spurted  the  Glenlivet-cofiee  into  its  master^s  ooun- 
tenanoe.    James,  lend  me  your  pocket-handkerchief. 

(Relapses  into  the  Standard.) 

*  A  tri-weekly  newspaper  called  Tlu  St.  Jamu^M  CkronieU  had  considerable  oironlation 
among  the  elerry  and  aqnirarohy  of  England.  In  18%  its  proprietor  established  a  daily  even* 
iag  paper  called  The  StandariL,  without  discontinning  thn  other.  It  was  edited  by  Dr.  Oifiard 
and  Dr.  Macinn^  and  speedily  obtained  great  influence.  In  1839,  it  strongly  opposed  and 
denounced  Wellington  and  Peers  measure  of  Catholic  Enumoipation. — M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


NOCfTES  AHBBOSIAV^ 

Shepherd,  Fling  doon  the  Stannard — or  I'll  gang  mad.  Niest 
time  ril  shy  the  jug  at  him — for  if  it's  impossible  to  insult,  it  may 
perhaps  be  possible  to  kill  him.  Fling  doon  the  Stannard.  You 
maddenin'  auld  sinner,  you  wad  be  cheap  o'  death  !  Yet  I  maunna 
kill  him — I  maunna  kill  him — for  I  micht  be  hanged. 

North.  Nobly  said,  Sadler* — nobly  said  !  I  have  long  known 
your  great  talents,  and  your  great  eloquence,  too ;  but  I  hardly 
hoped  for  such  a  display  of  both  as  this — Hear  ! — hear  ! — hear ! — 
There — my  trusty  fere,  you  have  indeed  clapped  the  saddle  on  the 
right  horse. 

Shepherd.  Tak  that. 

{Flings  another  glass  of  toddy  in  Mr.  Nob,tr*b  face.) 

North.  {Starting  up.)  Fire  and  fury  ! 

Shepherd.  Butter  and  brimstone!  How  daurM  you  to  treHt 
me 

North.  This  outrage  must  not  pass  unpunished.  Hogg,  I  shall 
give  you  a  sound  thrashing. 

(Mr.  North  advances  towards  the  Shkphkrd  in  an  offensive 
attitude.  The  Shepherd  seizes  a  poker  in  one  hand,  and  a 
chair  in  the  other.) 

Shepherd.  Haud  aff,  sir, — baud  aff — or  I'll  brain  you.  Dinna 
pick  a  quarrel  wi'  me.  I've  dune  a'  I  cud  to  prevent  it ;  but  the 
provocation  1  received  was  past  a'  endurance.  Haud  afi^  sir, — ^haud 
aff. 

North.  Coward !  coward  !  coward  ! 

Shepherd.  Flyte  awa,  sir — flyte  awa — but  haud  a£^  or  I'll  fell 
you. 

North.  {Resuming  his  seat.)  I  am  unwilling  to  hurt  you,  James, 
on  account  of  those  at  Mount  Benger ;  but  lay  down  the  poker — and 
lay  down  the  chair. 

Shepherd.  Na — na — ^na.  Unless  you  first  swear  on  the  Bible  that 
you'll  take  nae  unfair  advantage. 

North.  Let  my  word  snfRce — I  won't.     Now  go  to  that  press — 

and  you  will  see  a  pair  of  gloves.     Bring  them  to  me 

{The  Srzpbzrd  fetches  the  gloves.) 

Shepherd.  Ca'  you  thae — gloves  ? 

North.  {Stripping  and  putting  on  the  gloves.)  Now,  sir,  use  your 
fists  as  best  you  may — and  in  five  minutes  1  shall  take  the  conceit 
out  of  you 

Shepherd.  {Peeling  to  the  sark.)  I'll  sune  gie  you  a  bludy  nose. 
(  The  combatants  shake  hands  and  put  themselves  into  attitude.) 

North.  Take  care  of  your  eyes. 

*  Michael  Thomas  8adl«r,  a  merchant  fit>m  Leeds,  with  coBriderabU  eloqnenoe,  naeh  poll* 
tieal  information,  and  decided  Toryism,  who  had  been  brooffht  into  Parliament  by  the  Dab* 
of  NewcftstlA,  expressly  to  speak  against  concessions  to  the  Catholics  — M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


THE  8BT-T0.  288 

{The  Shbphird  elevates  his  guard — and  ^oRTRdelivers  a  des 
perate  right-handed  lunge  on  his  kidneys,) 
Shepherd.  That's  na  &ir,  ye  auld  blackguard. 
North.  Well,  then,  is  that  1 

{The  Shsphbrd  receives  two  left-handed  facers,  which  seem  to 
muddle  his  knowledge-box.     He  bores  in  wildly  on  the  old 
man.) 
Shepherd.    Whew — whew — whew. — Fu — ^fu — ^fu — What's   thrtl 
What's  that  f  {The  Shsphbbd  receives  pepper.) 

NortJi.  Hit  straight,  James.    So— so— so— so — so — so. 
Shepherd.  That's  foul  play.     There's  mair  than  ane  o'  you.  Wha's 
that  joinin'  in  ?     Let  me  alane — and  I'll  soon  finish  him  — — 

(Mr.  North,  who  has  gradually  retreated  into  a  comer  of  the 
Snuggery,  gathers  himself  up  for  mischief  and  as  the  Shsp- 
hbrd rushes  in  to  close,  delivers  a  stinger  under  Jambs's  ear, 
that  floors  him  like  a  shot.     Mr.  North  then  comes  out,  as 
actively  as  a  bird  on  the  bough  of  a  tree.) 
North.  I  find  1  have  a  hit  in  me  yet.     A  touch  on  the  jugular 
always  tells  tales.     Hollo !  hollo  !     My  dear  James ! — Deaf  as  a 
house. 

(Mr.  North   takes  off  the  gloves—fetches  a  tumbler  of  the 

jug — and  kneeling  tenderly  down  by  the  Shbphbrd,  bathes 

his  temples.      Jambs  opens  his  eyes,  and    stares    wildly 

around.) 

Shepherd.  Is  that  you,  Gudefallow  1    Hae  I  had  a  fk'  aff  a  horse 

or  out  o'  the  gig  ? 

North.  My  dear  maister— out  o'  the  gig.     The  young  horse  took 
(richt  at  a  tup  lowpin'  ower  the  wa',  and  set  sff  like  lichtnin.'     You 
sudna  hae  louped  out.     You  sudna  hae  louped  out. 
Shepherd.  Whare's  the  gig  f 
North.  Never  mind,  maister. 
Shepherd.  I  say,  whare's  the  gig  t 

North.  In  the  loch 

Shepherd.  And  the  horse  1 
North.  In  the  loch  too  — 
Shepherd.  Droon'dl 

North.  No  yet — if  you  look  up,  youll  see  him  soomin'  across 
wi'  the  gig. 

Shepherd,  {fixing  his  eyes  on  vacancy.)  Ay — sure  eneuch — yonner 
he  goes ! 

North.  Yon  proves  his  breed.    He's  descended  from  the  water 
horse. 

Shepherd.  I'm  verra  faint     I  wush  I  had  some  whusky      ■ 
North.  Here,  maister — ^here. 

{The  Shbphbrd  drains  the  tumbler,  and  revives.) 


Digitized  by 


Google 


284  NOcrrsB  amxbosujsm, 

Sktpherd,  Am  I  in  the  open  air,  or  in  a  hoose  ?  I  houp  a  hoose 
»— or  there  maun  be  a  ooncuseion  o'  the  brain,  for  I  seem  to  see 
chairs  and  tables. 

North.  Yes,  maister — ^you  have  been  removed  in  a  blanket  by 
eight  men  to  Mount  Benger. 

Shepherd,  Is  baith  mj  legs  brok  t 

North,  Dinna  ask— dinna  ask.  WeVe  sent  an  express  to  Embro 
for  Liston.*  They  say,  that  when  he  sets  broken  legs  they^re 
stronger  than  ever. 

Shepherd,  He's  a  wonderfu'  operawtor — but  I  can  scarcely  believe 
that.  Oh !  am  I  to  be  for  life  a  lameter  !  It's  a  judgment  on  me 
for  writin'  tbe  Chaldee ! 

North,  I  canna  thole,  maister  to  see  you  greetin'  — 

Shepherd,  MerciAi*  powers — >but  your  face  has  changed  until  that 
o'  an  auld  man  I     Was  Mr.  North  ^ae  Erabro  here  tl^  noo  *? 

North,  I  am  indeed  that  unhappy  old  man.  But  'tis  all  but  a 
dream,  my  dear  James — 'tis  all  but  a  dream !  What  means  all 
this  wild  disjointed  talk  of  yours  about  gigs  and  horses,  and  a  horse 
and  gig  swimming  over  St.  Mary's  Loch  !  Here  we  are,  my  beloved 
friend,  in  Edinburgh-^in  Picardy — at  the  Noctes  AmbrosiansD— 4i( 
High  Jinks,  my  James,  after  a  bout  with  the  mufflers  and  the  naked 
mawleys. 

Shepherd,  I  dreamed  that  I  had  knooked  you  down,  sir.  Was 
that  the  case  ? 

North,  It  was  indeed,  James.  But  I  am  not  angry  with  you. 
You  did  not  mean  to  hit  so  hard.  You  generously  ran  in  to  keep 
me  from  falling,  and  by  some  strange  sudden  twisty  you  happened  to 
fall  undermost,  and  to  save  me  sacrificed  yourself.  'Twas  a  severe 
stun. 

Shepherd,  The  haill  wecht  o'  mist  has  rolled  itsell  up  into  cluds 
on  the  mountain-taps,  and  all  the  scenery  aneath  lies  fresh  and 
green,  wi'  every  kent  house  and  tree.  But  I  houp  you're  no  sair 
hurt  yoursell — let  me  help  you  up  — 

(The  Shepherd  assists  Mr.  North,  who  has  been  sitting  on 
the  floor ^  like  the  Shah,  to  recover  his  pins^-and  the  two  walk 
arm  in  arm  to  their  respective  chairs  ) 

North,  I  am  sorely  shaken,  James.  An  account  of  our  set-to, 
our  turn  up,  James,  ought  to  be  sent  to  that  admirable  sporting 
paper,  Bell's  Life  in  London. 

Shepherd,  Let  it,  my  dear  sir,  be  a  lesson  to  you  the  langest  day 
you  leeve,  never  to  pick  a  quarrel,  or  even  to  undertak  ony  half- 
and-half  sort  o'  horse-play  wi'  a  younger  and  stronger  man  than 

*  Robert  Liston,  at  that  time  oee  of  the  moet  eminent  ■urffeoai,  «nd  oertnlnly  the  b€wt 
operator  in  Edinbnrgh     On  bis  remoTal  to  London,  his  repntation  inoreaeed,  ontll  fats  ileatli 


Digitized  by 


Google 


THB  laSROR.  985 

yoursell.  Sir,  if  I  hadna  been  sae  weel  up  to  the  business,  that 
fa'  might  hae  been  jour  last.  As  for  thae  nasty  gloves,  I  never 
wush  to  see  their  faces  again  a'  the  days  o'  my  life.  Wha's  that 
choppin'  ? 

North,  Probably  Picardy.     See,  the  door's 'locked  inside. 

(  The  Shbphbrd  unlocks  and  opens  the  door.) 
Shepherd.  What  mob's  this? 
North,  Show  in  the  Democracy. 

(Enter  Picardy,  Mon  Cadet,  the  Manciple^  the  Clerk  of  the 
Pipe,  Kino  PiPiN,  Sir  David  Gam,  Tappttourib,  arid  the 
"  rest:') 
Ambrose,  (while  Omnes  holdup  their  hands.)  Dear  me !  dear  me! 
Shepherd,  What  are  ye  a'  glowerin'  at  me  for,  ye  fulesl 
North.  Tappy,  bring  me  a  looking-glass.        (Exit  Tappt  volans.) 
Shepherd,  I  say,  ye  fules,  what  are  ye  glowerin'  at  me- in  that 
gate  for  t     Do  you  see  horns  on  my  head  ? 

(Re-enter  Tappt,  with  a  copy  of  (he  Mirror,) 
North,  Take  a  glance,  my  dear  James,  at  the  Magic  Mirror. 

(The  Shepherd  looks  in,  and  recoiU  to  the  sideboard.) 
Shepherd,  What'n  a  face !     What'n  a  pair  o'  black,  blue,  green, 
yellow  een. 

North,  Wo  must  apply  leeches.  Mr.  Ambrose,  bring  in  a  few 
bottles  of  leeches,  and  some  raw  veal  steaks. 

Shepherd,  Aff  wi'  you — aff  wi'  you — the  haill  tot  o'  you. 

(Exit  Picardy,  unth  his  taiU) 

North,  Come  to  my  arms,  my  incomparable  Shepherd,  and  let  us 

hob  and  nob,  to  "  Gude  night  and  joy  be  wi'  us  a',    in  a  caulker  of 

Millbank ;  and  let  us,  during  the  '^  wullie  waught,"  think  of  him 

whose  worthy  name  it  bears  — 

Shepherd,  As  gude  a  chiel's  in  Christen  tie !     Oh,  my  ever-honored 
sir,  what  wad  the  warld  say,  if  she  kent  the  concludin'  proceedins  o* 
this  night !     That  we  were  twa  auld  fules  ! 
North.  At  times,  James, 

**  Ti«  folly  to  he  wiw.*' 
Shepherd,  As  auld  Crow,  the  Oxford  orator,  says  at  the  end  o'  his 
bonnie  descriptive  poem,  Lewesden  Hill — 

**  To-morrow  for  seyerer  thought— but  now 
To  breakfSast" 

North,  To  bed — you  mean— 

Shepherd,  No,  to  breakfast.  It's  mornin'.  The  East  is  brichten- 
in' — Look  over  awaukenin'  Leith — and,  lo  \  white  sails  glidin'  ower 
the  dim  blue  sea ! 

North.  Let  us  each  take  a  cold  bath. 

(Mr.  North  and  Shepherd  disappear,) 

Sic  TRANSEUNT    NoOTES    AMSROSIAKiB. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


386  NOOTES  AMBBOSIANJS. 


No.  XLffl.— MAY,  1829. 

SCENE  h— Buchanan  Lodge— The  Virgin's  Bower  Arbor— Time, 
Four  in  the  Afternoon — North  ar^  the  Shspherd  partaking  of  a 
Cold  Collation. 

Shepherd.  Let's  hae  just  ae  single  hour's  twa-haunM  crack,  afore 
we  gang  into  the  Lodge  to  dress  for  the  Tea-party. 

iVor^., There  is  something  interesting,  my  dear  James,  nay, im- 
pressive, almost  melancholy,  in  the  first  cold  Dinner  of  the  year. 

Shepherd,  Corae^ — come,  sir — nae  sentimentality  ; — ^besides,  a 
cauld  denner's  no  muckle  amiss,  provided  there  only  be  an  ashet  o' 
het  mealy  potatoes. 

North,  Spring  is  with  me  the  happiest  season  of  the  year.  How 
tempting  the  young  esculents,  as  they  spring  up  in  their  virginity 
along  the  weed  less  garden-beds!  Then  the  little  £ittening  twin- 
lambs,  James,  racing  on  the  sunny  braes,  how  pleasing  to  the  poeti- 
cal palate ! 

Shepherd,  Though  I  tauld  you  no  to  be  sentimental,  I  didna  bid 
you  be  sensual. 

North,  I  sit  corrected.     Lo,  winter  is  over  and  gone. 

Shepherd,  Na — 

Wunter  lingerin'  ohillB  the  lap  o*  May. 

But  May  is  a  merry  month,  and  I  ken  na  whether  the  smiles  or  the 
frowns  on  her  face  be  the  mair  beautifu' — just  like  a  haughty  danv 
sel,  in  the  pride  o'  her  teens,  sometimes  flingin'  a  scomfu'  look  to 
you  ower  her  shouther,  as  if  she  despised  a'  mankind  ;  and  then  a' 
at  ance,  as  if  touched  by  gentle  thochts,  relaxin'  intil  a  burst  o' 
smiles,  like  the  sun  on  a  half-stormy  day,  comin*  out  suddenly  frae 
amang  the  breakin'  clouds,  and  changing  at  ance  earth  into  heaven. 
O,  sir,  but  the  Lodge  is  a  bonny  place  noo ! 

North,  I  love  suburban  retirement,  James,  even  more  than  the 
remotest  rural  solitude.  In  old  age,  one  needs  to  have  the  neigh- 
borhood of  human  beings  to  lean  upon — and  in  the  stillness  of 
awakening  morn  or  hushing  eve,  my  spirit  yearns  towards  the  hum 
of  the  city,  and  finds  a  relief  from  all  overmastering  thoughts,  in  its 
fellowship  with  the  busy  multitudes  sailing  along  the  many  streams 
of  life,  too  near  to  be  wholly  forgotten,  and  yet  far  enough  off  not  to 
harass  or  disturb.     In  my  most  world-sick  dreams,  I  never  longed 


Digitized  by 


Google 


PHIL060PHT  OF  EBLIGION.  287 

to  be  a  hermit  in  his  cave.  Mine  eyes  have  still  loved  the  smoke  of 
human  dwellings — and  when  my  infirmities  keep  me  from  church, 
sitting  here  in  this  arbor,  with  Jeremy  Taylor's  Holy  Living  and 
Dying,  perhaps,  on  the  table  before  me,  how  solemn,  how  sublime, 
the  sound  of  the  Sabbath-bells  ?  Whether  the  towers  and  spires  of 
the  houses  of  worship  are  shining  in  the  sunlight,  or  heard  each  in 
its  own  region  of  the  consecrated  city,  through  a  softening  weight  of 
mist  or  clouds  from  the  windy  sea ! 

Shepherd.  For  my  ain  part,  Mr.  North,  though  I  love  the  lochs, 
and  moors,  and  mountains,  as  well  as  do  the  wild  swans,  the 
whawps,  and  the  red-deer ;  yet  could  I,  were  there  a  necessity  for't, 
be  every  bit  as  happy  in  a  flat  in  ony  timmer  tenement  in  the  dark- 
est lane  o'  Auld  Reekie,  as  in  Mount  Benger  itsel',  that  blinks  sae 
bonnily  on  its  ain  green  knowe  on  the  broad  bosom  o'  nature. 
Wherever  duty  ca's  him,  and  binds  him  down,  there  may  a  man  be 
happy, — ^ay,  even  at  the  bottom  o'  a  coal-pit,  sir,  that  rins  a  mile 
aneath  the  sea,  wi'  waves  and  ships  roarin*  and  rowin'  a  thousan' 
fathom  ower  the  shafl. 

North,  The  Philosophy  of  Human  Life. 

Shepherd,  Better  still — it's  Religion.  Woe  for  us  were  there  not 
great  happiness  and  great  virtue  in  toons  and  cities !  Let  but  the 
faculties  o'  the  mind  be  occupied  for  sake  o'  the  affections  o'  the 
heart,  and  your  ee  may  shine  as  cheerfully  on  a  smoky  dead  brick 
wa',  within  three  yards  o'  your  nose,  as  on  a  ledge  o'  livin'  rock 
formin'  an  amphitheatre  roun'  a  loch  or  an  arm  o'  the  sea.  Wad  I 
Ice  my  wife  and  my  weans  the  less  in  the  Grassmarket  than  in  the 
Forest?  Wad  I  be  affected  itherwise  by  burying  ane  o'  them — 
should  it  so  please  God — in  Yarrow  kirkyard  than  in  the  Gray  friars  1 
If  my  sons  and  my  daughters  turn  out  weel  in  life,  what  matters  it 
to  me  if  they  leevo  by  the  silver  streams  or  the  dry  Nor-loch  ?  Vice 
and  misery  as  readily — as  inevitably — ^befa'  moral  creturs  in  the 
sprinkled  domicils,  that  frae  the  green  earth  look  up  through  amang 
trees  to  the  blue  heavens,  as  in  the  dungeon-like  dwallins,  crooded 
ane  aboon  anither,  in  closes  whare  it's  aye  a  sort  o'  glimmering  nicht. 
And  Death  visits  them  a'  alike  wi'  as  sure  a  foot  and  as  pitiless  an 
ee.  And  whenever,  and  wherever,  he  comes,  there's  an  end  o'  a' 
distinctions — o'  a'  differences  o'  outward  and  material  things.  Then 
we  maun  a'  alike  look  for  comfort  to  ae  source — ^and  that's  no  the 
skies  theirsells,  beautifu'  though  they  may  be,  canopyin'  the  dewy 
earth  wi'  a  curtain  wrought  into  endless  figures,  a'  bricht  wi'  the 
rainbow  hues,  or  amaist  hidden  by  houses  frae  the  sicht  o'  them  that 
are  weepin'  amang  the  dim  city-lanes — for  what  is't  in  either  case 
but  a  mere  congregation  o'  vapors  1  But  the  mourner  maun  be 
able,  wi'  the  eyes  o'  Faith,  to  pierce  through  it  a',  or  else  of  his 
moumin'  there  will  be  no  end — nay,  nay,  sir,  the  mair  beautifu'  may 


Digitized  by 


Google 


288  HOCTE8  AMBB08IAKJL 

be  the  tent  in  which  he  tabernades,  the  mair  hideous  the  hell  within 
his  heart !  The  contrast  atween  the  strife  o'  his  ain  distracted  spirit, 
and  the  cawm  o'  the  peacefu'  earth,  may  itherwise  drive  him  mad, 
or,  if  not,  make  him  curse  the  hour  when  he  was  bora  into  a  world 
in  vain  so  beautifu'. 

North.  1  love  to  hear  you  discourse,  James, 

**  Oq  man  and  nature,  and  on  human  lif€^ 
Musing  in  solitude." 

Methinks  that  Poetry,  of  late  years,  has  dwelt  too  much  on  external 
nature.  The  worship  of  poets,  if  not  idolatry,  has  been  idola- 
trous — 

Shepherd.  What's  the  difference  ? 

North.  Nay,  ask  the  Bishop  of  Oxford.* 

Shepherd.  Whew  ! — Not  so  with  the  poetry  of  Burns,  and  other 
great  peasants.  They  pored  not  perpetually,  sir,  into  streams  and 
lochs  that  they  might  see  there  their  ain  reflection.  Believe  me,  sir, 
that  Narcissus  was  nae  poet.  Preserve  me,  what  a  sicht!  Qiucky 
— chucky — chucky — chucky  !  Oh,  sir!  but  that's  a  bonny  clockin* 
hen  !  An^  what'n  a  cleekin  she's  gotten !  Nearer  a  score  nor  a 
dizzen,  and  a'  white  as  snaw ! 

North.  Yes,  James — Lancashire  Ladylegs. 

Shepherd.  Muflies  too,  I  declare ;  are  they  ggem  ? 

North.  You  shall  see.     Kalpho ! 

{^Flings  a  piece  of  meat  towards  the  brood.  The  Raven  hops 
out  of  the  arbor  to  seize  it^  aiid  is  instantly  attacked  by 
Lady  legs.) 

Shepherd.  That  beats  cock- fech ten' !  O  instinck!  instinck!  but 
for  thy  mysterious  fever  hoo  cauldrife  the  haill  warld  o'  life. 

North.  'Tis  but  a  mere  pullet,  James — her  first  family  — 

Shepherd.  See  how  she  cuffs  Booty's  chafls,  till  the  feathers  flee 
frae  him  like  stour !  Lend  me  your  crutch,  sir,  that  I  may  separate 
Uiem,  or  faith  she'll  tear  him  intil  pieces. 

{The  Shepherd  endeavors  to  separate  the  combatants — when 
Ladylegs  turns  against  him  and  drives  him  into  the  arbor.) 

North.  Mark  how  beautifully — how  gracefully  she  shall  soon 
subside  into  a  calm ! 

Shepherd.  For  a  pullet  she  has  fearfu'  lang  spurs.  Ay — yon's 
bonny — bonny  !  See  till  them — the  bit  chickenies  —  ane  after 
anither,  comin'  rinnin'  out  firae  various  pairts  of  the  shrubbery — 
just  like  sae  mony  white  mice — and  dartm'  in  aneath  her  extended 
wings,  as  she  sits  on  the  sunny  gravel,  beautifu'  as  an  outlandish 
bird  frae  some  Polar  region,  her  braid  breast  expandin'  in  delight 

*  Dr.  Lloyd,  Bishop  of  Oxford  io  1820,  [in  which  jou  h«  died,]  who  ratt^  in  ParUamcmt 
on  the  Catoolio  question,  saying  that  a  religion  might  be  idolatrous  and  yet  not  idolatry- 


Digitized  by 


Google 


THM  MABAznsm,  389 

as  she  feels  a'  her  brood  botchin'  aneath  her,  and  her  lang  uprioht 
neck,  flexible  as  that  o*  a  serpent's,  turn  in'  her  red-crested  head  hither 
and  thither  in  a'  directions,  mair  in  pride  than  in  fear,  noo  that  she 
hears  Ralpho  croakin  at  a  distance,  and  the  wee  panters  beginnin' 
again  to  twitter  amang  the  feathers,  lookin'  out  noos  and  thens  wi' 
their  bit  heads  frae  that  cosy  bield  

North.  Here  is  a  little  bit  bookie,  which  pray  put  into  your  pocket 
for  wee  Jamie — James.  "  The  Library  of  Entertaining  Knowledge," 
vol.  i.  part  i.  entitled  *'The  Menageries."  '^Quadrupeds  described 
and  drawn  from  living  subjects." 

Shepherd.  Thank  ye,  sir.  He's  just  perfectly  mad  about  a* 
mainner  o'  birds  and  beasts — and  weel  1  like  to  look  at  him  lookin' 
at  a  new  picture  !  Methinks  I  see  the  verra  sowle  growin'  within 
him  as  he  glowers  !  The  study  o'  Natural  History,  maist  assuredly, 
should  be  begun  when  you're  a  bairn,  and  when  you're  a  man,  you'll 
be  hand  and  glove  wi'  a'  the  beasts  o'  the  field,  and  birds  o'  the  air 
— their  various  names  familiar  to  you  as  household  words — their 
habits  as  weel  kent,  or  aiblins  better,  than  your  ain — sae  that  you 
hae  acquaintances,  and  companions,  and  friens  in  the  maist  solitary 
places— and  need  never  weary  for  want  o'  thochts  and  feelings  even 
in  a  desert,  if  but  ae  feathery  or  filmy  wing  cross  between  you  and 
the  horizon. 

North.  There  is  in  London,  as  perhaps  you  know,  a  Society  for 
the  Difitision  of  Useful  Knowledge,*  which  has  published,  very 
widely,  many  admirable  treatises— chiefly  on  Physical,  though  their 
plan  comprehends  Moral — subjects.  For  all  the  enlightened  labors 
of  that  Society  have  I  always  prayed  for  success ;  for  I  desire  that 
all  men  may  live  in  the  light  of  liberty  and  truth. 

Shepherd.  That's  the  redeemin'  trait  in  your  character,  sir.  O, 
but  you're  a  glorious  auld  tory,  Mr.  North.  Your  love  for  the  past 
neither  deadens  your  joy  in  the  present,  nor  inspires  you  wi'  fear 
for  the  future.  You  venerate  the  weather- stains  on  the  trunk  o'  the 
tree  o'  knowledge,  yet  you  rejoice  to  see  its  branches  every  year 
flinging  a  wider  shadow. 

North.  Why,  my  dear  Jmnes,  the  Magazine,  with  all  ita  faults, 
which  have  been  neither  few  nor  small  — 

Shepherd.  And  wha  ever  saw  either  a  book  or  a  man  worth 
praisin'  that  was  na  as  weel  worth  abusin'  1  In  a'  great  gifts  there's 
a  mixtur  o'  gude  and  evil  — 

North.  Has  spread  knowledge  among  the  people  of  Britain.  In 
Theology,  Philosophy,  Politics,  Literature,  Life  and  Manners,  Maga 
has,  on  the  whole,  been  sound,  and  she  has  been  consistent.     She 

*  Lord  Broofham  wu  PrMidant  of  Uus  Sooietj,  uid  most  of  its  Comxmttoe  alio  trore  LibO' 

Vol.  m.— 20 


Digitized  by 


Google 


290  NOOTES  AHBBOBIAKiB. 

may  be  said  to  be  in  herself  a  Library  of  Useful  and  Entertaining 
Knowledge. 

Shepherd,  But  what  for  ca'  they  this  bookie  the  Menagerie,  sir? 

North,  A  well-chosen  name,  James.  There,  as  in  a  Menagerie, 
you  behold  — 

Shepherd,  I  see,  I  see.  The  wood-cuts  are  capital — but  hoo's  the 
letterpress,  sir? 

North.  Why,  there  you  have  upwards  of  two  hundred  closely 
printed  pages,  fine  paper  and  type,  with  nearly  a  score  of  admirable 
representations  of  animals,  for  a  couple  of  shillings!  The  cheapest 
thing  1  ever  saw — and  so  far  from  being  acatch-penny — it  is  got  up, 
in  all  its  departments,  by  men  of  real  talent,  and  knowledge  of  the 
subject. 

Shepherd.  It's  incredibly  cheap;  and  1  fear  maun  be  a  losing 
concern. 

North.  No,  James,  it  will  be  a  gaining  concern.  The  conductors 
of  the  Library  of  Entertaining  Knowledge  have  resolved  that  it 
shall  be  sold  at  the  lowest  possible  rate,  and  are  little  anxious  about 
profit.  But  let  them  go  on  as  they  have  begun,  and  I  do  not  doubt 
that  the  sale  of  their  monthly  parts  may  soon  reach  twenty — thirty 
— why  not  forty  thousand  1 

Shepherd,  Na — na.  It  can  never  do  that  Maga  does  na  sell 
that. 

North,  Doesn't  she  ?  That  shows  how  little  you  know  of  Maga. 
By-the-by,  James,  I  have  not  seen  Maga  for  some  months — not 
since  Christmas.  I  thought  her  rather  dull  last  time  we  had  a  tiie- 
a-tete,  I  was  absolutely  so  very  ungallant  as  to  fall  asleep  with  her 
in  my  arms.  The  wick  of  the  candle  got  about  a  foot  long — the 
tail  of  her  gown  took  fire — and  Buchanan  Lodge  was  withui  an  ace 
of  being  reduced  to  ashes. 

Shepherd,  You  would  hae  broken  out  o'  the  conflagration  in  the 
shape  o'  a  phoenix,  sir,  "  the  secular  bird  o'  ages."  But  wha's  the 
veece-ycditor  1 

North,  She  edits  herself,  James.  She  reminds  me  of  an  orange- 
tree  in  a  conservatory — blossoms  and  fruit  beautifully  blended  at 
all  times  among  the  radiant  evergreen.  The  sun  forgets  her  not — 
and  an  hour  now  and  then  of  open  window  bathes  her  in  morning  or 
evening  dew  ;  so  gaze  on  her  when  you  will,  and  she  is  bright  and 
balmy  in  immortal  youth. 

Shepherd,  You  assuredly  are,  sir,  the  idlest  auld  sinner  in  a'  this 
warld,  yet  you  never  seem  weary  o'  life ;  and  your  face  aye  wears 
an  expression  as  if  some  new  thocht  were  visitin'  your  mind,  and 
passin'  aff  in  smiles  or  froons,  rather  than  words, — the  aboriginal 
and  only  universal  language,  o'  which  a  body  never  forgets  the 
gramniaTi  and  o'  which  the  construction,  though  aimploy  is  oompre- 


Digitized  by 


Google 


THB  WORLD  OF  DBEAMS. 

hecisive,  and  capable  o'  ten  thousand  intei-pretations,  according  to 
the  spirit  in  which  it  is  read  — mair  copious  either  than  the  Hebrew 
%fr  the  Greek,  though  the  roots  are  but  few  ;  but  oh  !  the  compound 
epithets,  countless  as  the  motes  i'  the  sun  o'  a  simmer  morn  in' !  I 
weel  believe,  sir,  that  a'  your  life  lang  you  were  never  a  single  mo- 
ment idle. 

North,  Idle  !  No— James — not  even  in  sleep.  Yet,  do  you  know, 
that  my  sleeping  seems  to  have  no  kindred  with  my  waking  soul. 
Seldom,  I  may  say  never,  do  I  dream  of  this  waking  world.  I  have 
every  night  a  new  set  of  friends  in  sleep  whom  I  know  and  love. 
They  pass  away  with  the  morning  light,  and  never  more  return. 
Sometimes  they  seem  as  if  they  were  phantoms  I  had  been  familiar 
with  in  youth — in  boyhood — in  infancy — but  I  know  not  their 
names,  nor  can  recall  the  memory  of  the  times  or  places  where  we 
had  met  in  joy — only  I  feel  that  they  are  lovely,  loving,  and  be- 
loved !  We  talk  of  strange  and  delightful  things,  and  walk  over- 
shadowed  by  bliss  divine, — but 

Shepherd,  I  never  met  a  man  before  that  had  dreams  o'  that  kind 
besides  my  sell 

North,  I  never,  my  dear  James,  saw  your  face  in  a  dream — yet 
my  dreams  are  often  perfectly  happy — nor  do  1  remember  to  have 
once  dreamt  of  any  book,  or 

Shepherd,  Did  you  ever  dream  of  being  married,  sir 

North,  Oh  dear !  Oh  dear !  Oh  dear ! 

Shepherd,  What !     You're  no  gaun  to  greet  ? 

North,  What  large  dewy  orbs  divine,  angelical  eyes  in  angelical 
faces,  have  fixed  themselves  upon  mine,  overcharged  with  love,  as 
if  the  beings  beaming  there  had  been  commissioned  to  pour  immor- 
tal heaven  into  my  mortal  heart!  No  doubts,  no  fears,  no  misgiv- 
ings, such  as  haunt  and  trouble  all  our  delights  in  this  waking  world. 
But  one  pure  serene  flow  of  bliss,  deep  and  high  as  the  blue  mar- 
bled heaven  of  the  Dream  that  heard  the  very  music  of  the  spheres 
chiming,  as  the  Paradise  in  which  we  stood,  face  to  face  with  a 
seraph,  kept  floating  not  insensibly  through  the  fragrant  ether !  The 
voice  that  syllabled  such  overwhelming  words!  Embracements  that 
blended  spirit  with  spirit !  Perishings  into  intenser  life  !  Swoon- 
ings  away  into  spiritual  regions!  Reawakenings  into  consciousness 
of  breath  and  blood  almost  stopt  by  rapture !  Then,  the  dying 
away  back  again — slowly  but  sadly — into  earthly  existence — till, 
with  a  beating  heart,  we  knew  again  that  we  were  the  thralls  of 
sense,  and  doomed  to  grovel  like  worms  upon  the  dust — the  melan- 
choly dust  of  this  our  prison-house,  from  which,  except  in  dreams, 
there  is  no  esca])e,  and  from  which  at  last  we  may  be  set  free  but 
for  the  eterppl   darkness  of  the  grave! — Oh!   James — James! — 


Digitized  by 


Google 


392  VOdTBS  AMBSOfilAKA 

what  if  the  soul  be  Hike  the  body,  mortal,  and  all  that  we  shall  ever 
know  of  heaven,  only  such  glorious,  but  delusive  dreams  ! 

Shepherd.  Sic  visions  leave  just  the  verra  opposite  impression  on 
my  mind.  Something  divine,  and  therefore  immortal,  needs  must 
be  the  spirit  within  us,  that,  when  a'  the  senses  are  locked  up  in 
sleep,  can  yet  glorify  the  settin'  sun  into  an  apparition  &r  mair 
magnificent  than  ever  sank  into  the  sea  ahint  the  western  moun 
tains.     But  whisht !     Is  that  an  angel  singin'  ? 

North,  No,  James;  'tis  my  gardener's  little  daughter,  Flora —    • 

Sliepherd.  Happy  as  ony  bird.  Music  is  indeed  the  natural' 
voice  o'  joy.  First,  the  ba»om  feels  fr^^  frae  a'  anxiety — then  a 
kind  o'  gladness,  without  ony  definite  cause  or  object,  settles  ower 
the  verra  essence  o'  life  ;^-erelong  there  is  a  beatin'  and  stirrin'  at 
the  heart,  as  some  suddenly  remembered  thocht  passes  ower  it  like 
a  brighter  sunbeam, — by-and-by,  the  innocent  young  cretur,  sittin' 
by  herself,  puin'  wi'  her  wee  white  hauns  the  weeds  frae  aniang  the 
flowers,  and  half  loath  to  fling  them  awa',  some  o'  them  bein'  sae 
bonny,  although  without  ony  fragrant  smell,  can  nae  langer  contain 
the  happiness  flowin*  within  her  snaw-white  breist,  but  breaks  out, 
as  noo  you  hear  your  bonnie  Flora,  into  some  auld  Scottish  sang, 
maist  likely  mournfu',  for  bliss  is  aye  akin,  sir,  to  grief.  Ay,  sir, 
the  Flowers  o'  the  Forest !  And  sae  truly  doth  she  sing,  that  I 
kenna  whether  to  ca'  her  Sweet-voice  or  Fine-ear !  Hasna  that  ca- 
dence, indeed,  a  dyin'  fa"?  Nor  should  1  wonder  if  the  unseen 
cretur  at  this  moment  had  her  face  wat  wi'  tears ! 

North.  Methinks,  James,  1  could  better  bear  everlasting  darkness 
than  everlasting  silence.  The  memory  seems  to  have  more  command 
over  sights  than  over  sounds.  We  can  shut  our  eyes  yet  see  all 
nature.  But  music,  except  when  it  breathes,  has  no  residing  place 
within  the  cells  of  the  ear.  So  faint,  so  dim,  the  dream,  it  hardly  can 
be  said  to  be — till  one  single  note  awakes,  and  then  the  whole  tune 
is  suddenly  let  loose  upon  the  soul !  Blindness,  methinks,  I  could 
endure  and  live, — but  in  deafness  my  spirit  would  die  within  me,  I 
should  pray  for  death. 

Shepherd.  Baith  maun  be  sair  trials,  yet  baith  are  cheerfully  borne. 
The  truth  is,  sir,  that  a  Christian  can  bear  ony  thing — for  ae  moment's 
thought,  during  his  repining,  tells  him  whence  the  afiliction  comes — 
and  then  sorrow  saflens  awa'  into  resignation,  and  delight  steals  into 
the  heart  o'  the  maist  desolate. 

North.  The  creature  now  singing  away  at  her  pleasant  work,  a  few 
weeks  ago  lost  her  mother.  There  never  was  a  more  aflectionate  or 
more  dutiful  child, — yet  as  you  said,  James,  Flora  is  now  happy  as 
a  bird. 

Shepherd,  Yet  perhaps,  sir,  were  we  to  come  upon  her  the  noo, 
— she  has  stopt  singin'  a'  at  ance,  in  the  vera  middle  o'  the  tune — we 


Digitized  by 


Google 


THB    QTnBTUDB  OF  OfilEF. 

micht  see  her  sittin'  idle  amang  the  flowers,  wi'  a  pale  face,  greetin* 
by  hersell,  as  she  keeps  lookin'  at  her  black  gown,  and  thinkin'  on 
that  burial  day,  or  her  father's  countenance,  that  sin  syne  has  seldom 
brichten*d. 

North,  There  is  something  most  aflecting  in  the  natural  sorrows  of 
poor  men,  my  dear  Shepherd,  as,  after  a  few  days*  wrestling  with 
affliction,  they  appear  again  at  their  usual  work — melancholy,  but  not 
miserable. 

Shepherd,  You  ken  a  gude  deal,  sir,  about  the  life  and  character  of 
the  poor ;  but  then  it's  frae  philosophical  and  poetical  observation 
and  sympathy — no  frae  art-and-part  participation,  like  mine,  in  their 
merriment  and  their  meesery.  Folk  in  what  they  ca'  the  upper 
classes  o'  society,  a'  look  upon  life,  mair  or  less,  as  a  scene  of  enjoy- 
ment, and  amusement,  and  delicht.  They  get  a'  selfish  in  their  sen- 
sibilities, and  would  fain  make  the  very  laws  o'  natur  obedient  to  their 
wull.  Thus  they  cherish  and  encourage  habits  of  thocht  and  feeling, 
that  are  maist  adverse  to  obedience  and  resignation  to  the  decrees  o* 
the  Almighty — when  these  decrees  dash  in  pieces  small  the  idols  of 
their  earthly  worship. 

North,  Too  true,  alas  !  my  dearest  Shepherd. 

Shepherd,  Pity  me !  how  they  moan,  and  groan,  and  greet,  and 
wring  their  hauns,  and  tear  their  hair,  even  auld  folk  their  thin  gray 
hair,  when  death  comes  into  the  bed- room,  or  the  verra  drawing- 
room,  and  carries  afi*  in  his  clutches  some  wee  bit  spoiled  bairn,  yaum- 
merin'  amang  its  playthings,  or  keepin'  its  mither  awake  a'  nicht  by 
its  perpetual  cries ! 

North.  Touch  tenderly,  James,  on  — 

Shepherd,  Ane  wad  Uiink  that  nae  parents  had  ever  lost  a  child 
afore,  yet  hoo  many  a  sma'  funeral  do  you  see  ilka  day  pacin'  alang 
the  streets  unheeded  on  amang  the  carts  and  hackney-coaches ! 

North.  Unheeded,  as  a  party  of  upholsterer's  men  carrying  furni- 
ture to  a  new  house. 

Shepherd,  There  is  little  or  naething  o'  this  thochtless,  this  sense- 
less clamor  in  kintra  houses,  when  the  cloud  o'  God's  judgment 
passes  ower  them,  and  orders  are  gien  for  a  grave  to  be  dug  in  the 
kirkyard.  A'  the  house  is  hushed  and  quate— just  the  same  as  if  the 
patient  were  still  sick,  and  no  gaen  awa — the  father,  and  perhaps  the 
mother,  the  brothers,  and  the  sisters,  are  a'  gangin'  about  their  ordi- 
nary business,  wi'  grave  faces,  nae  doubt,  and  some  o*  them  now  and 
then  dichtin'  the  draps  frae  their  een ;  but,  after  the  first  black  day, 
little  and  audible  greetin',  and  nae  indecent  and  impious  outcries. 

North,  The  angler  calling  in  at  the  cottage  would  never  know  that 
a  corpse  was  the  cause  of  the  calm. 

Shepherd,  Rich  folk,  if  they  saw  sic  douce,  composed  ongoings, 
wad  doubtless  wonder  to  think  hoo  callous,  boo  insensible  were  the 


Digitized  by 


Google 


294  NocrsB  ahbbobianjl 

poor !  That  natur  had  kindly  denied  to  them  those  fine  feelings  that 
oelong  to  cultivated  life !  But  if  they  heard  the  prayer  of  the  auld 
man  at  nicht,  when  the  survivin'  family  were  on  their  knees  round 
the  wa*,  and  the  puir  wife  neist  him  in  the  holy  circle,  they  wad  ken 
better,  and  confess  that  there  is  something  as  sublime,  as  it  is  sincere 
and  simple,  in  the  resignation  and  piety  of  those  humble  Christians, 
whose  doom  it  is  to  live  by  the  sweat  o'  their  brow,  and  who  are 
taught,  almost  frae  the  cradle  to  the  grave,  to  feel  every  hour  they 
breathe,  that  all  they  enjoy,  and  all  they  suffer,  is  dropt  down  from 
the  hand  o*  God,  almost  as  visibly  as  the  dew  or  the  hail, — and  hence 
their  faith  in  things  unseen  and  eternal,  is  firm  as  their  belief  in  things 
seen  and  temporal — and  that  they  a'  feel,  sir,  when  lettiu'  doon  the 
coffin  into  the  grave ! 

North,  Take  another  glass,  my  dear  friend,  of  Mrs.  Gentle's  elder- 
flower  wine. 

Shepherd,  Frontignac !  But,  hearken !  There,  again,  the  bit 
happy  motherless  cretur  is  beguiled  into  anither  sang!  Her  ain 
voice,  sir,  brings  comfort  frae  a'  the  air  around,  even  as  if  it  were  an 
angePs  sang,  singin'  to  her  frae  the  heart  o'  heaven ! 

North,  I<  rom  how  many  spiritual  sources  come  assuagings  of  our 
most  mortal  griefs ! 

Shepherd,  It's  a  strathspey  !  I  canna  understand  the  want  o'  an 
ear.  When  I'm  alone,  I'm  aye  either  whistiin',  or  singin',  or  hum- 
min'  till  I  fa'  into  thocht ;  and  then  baith  thochts  and  feelings  are 
swayed,  if  I'm  no  sair  mista'en,  in  their  main  current  by  the  tune, 
whether  gay  or  sad,  that  your  heart  has  been  harpin'  on ;  so,  if  I 
had  na  a  gude  ear,  the  loneliness  o'  the  hills  wad  be  unco  weari- 
some, un visited  by  involuntary  dreams  about  indefinite  things !  Do 
folk  aye  think  in  words  ? 

North,  Generally,  I  suspect. 

Shepherd,  Yet  the  thochts  maun  come  first,  surely.  I  fancy  words 
and  thochts  fly  intil  ane  anither's  hauns.  A  thousan'  thochts  may 
a'  be  wrapped  up  in  ae  wee  bit  word — just  as  a  thousand  beauties 
in  ae  wee  bit  flower.  They  baith  expand  out  into  beauty — and 
there's  nae  end  to  the  creations  o'  the  eye  and  the  ear — for  the  soul 
sits  ahint  the  pupil  o'  the  tane,  and  the  drum  o'  the  tither,  and 
takin'  a  hint  frae  tone  or  hue,  expawtiates  ower  the  universe. 

North,  Scottish  Music,  my  dear  James,  is  to  me  rather  monoto- 
nous. 

Slupherd,  So  is  Scottish  Poetry,  sir.  It  has  nae  great  range ; 
but  human  natur  never  wearies  o'  its  ain  prime  elementary  feelings. 
A  man  may  sit  a  haill  nicht  by  his  ingle,  wi'  his  wife  and  bairns, 
without  either  thinkin'  or  feelin'  muckle ;  and  yet  he's  perfectly 
happy  till  bed-time,  and  says  his  prayers  wi'  fervent  gratitude  to  the 
Giver  o'  a'  mercies.     It's  only  whan  he's  beginnin'  to  tire  o'  the 


Digitized  by 


Google 


HOGG  ON  "tab  nootes."  295 

hummin'  o'  the  wheel,  or  o*  his  wife  flytin'  at  the  weans,  or  o'  the 
weans  upsettin'  the  stools,  or  ruggin'  ane  anither's  hair,  that  his 
fancy  takes  a  very  poetical  flight  into  the  regions  o'  the  Imagination. 
Sae  lang's  the  heart  sleeps  amang  its  affections,  ft  dwalls  upon  few 
images ;  but  these  images  may  be  infinitely  varied ;  and,  when 
expressed  in  words,  the  variety  will  be  felt.  Sae  that^  after  a',  it's 
scarcely  correct  to  ca'  Scottish  Poetry  monotonous,  or  Scottish 
Music  either,  ony  mair  than  you  wou*d  ca'  a  kintra  level,  in  bonnie 
gentle  ups  and  downs,  or  a  sky  dull,  though  the  clouds  were  neither 
mony  nor  multiform ;  a'  depends  upon  the  spirit.  Twa-three  notes 
may  mak*  a  maist  beautifu'  tune ;  twa-three  woody  knowes  a  bonny 
landscape  ;  and  there  are  some  bit  streams  amang  the  hills,  without 
ony  striking  or  very  peculiar  scenery,  that  it's  no  possible  to  daunner 
along  at  gloamin'  without  feel  in'  them  to  be  visionary,  as  if  they 
flowed  through  a  land  o'  glamour.  It's  the  same  thing  wi'  faces. 
Little  depends  on  the  features ;  a'  on  the  composition.  There  is  a 
nameless  something  that  tells,  when  the  color  o'  the  een,  and  o'  the 
hair,  and  o'  the  cheeks,  and  the  roundin'  afl*  o'  the  chin  rin  until  the 
throat,  and  then  awa  aiT,  like  a  wave  o'  the  sea,  until  the  breast  is  a' 
harmonious  as  music;  and  leaves  ane  lookin'  at  the  lasses  as  if  they 
were  listenin'  **  to  a  melody  that's  sweetly  play'd  in  tune  !*'  Sensi- 
bility feels  a'  this ;  Genius  creates  it ;  and  in  Poetry  it  dwells,  like 
the  charm  in  the  Amulet. 

North,  James — look  through  the  loophole.  Do  you  not  think, 
my  dear  Shepherd,  that  the  character  of  a  man  is  known  in  his 
works  ? 

SJiepherd.  Gumey  !  as  I'm  a  Christian !  That's  really  too  bad, 
sir.  A  body  canna  sit  down  in  an  arbor,  to  crack  an  hour  wi'  an 
auld  frien',  but  there  is  a  shorthaun  writer  at  your  lug,  jottin'  you 
doon  for  extension  at  his  leisure — and  convertin'  you  frae  a  preevat 
character  at  the  Lodge,  in  til  a  public  one  in  thae  confounded,  thae 
accursed  Noctes  Ambrosianae. 

North,  Gumey,  leave  out  that  last  epithet. 

Shepherd,  If  you  do  I'll  fell  you.  But,  Mr.  North,  many  o'  my 
frecns  — 

North,  I  know  it,  my  dear  James — but  treat  them  with  contempt, 
or  shall  I  take  up  a  few  of  them  by  the  scroof  of  the  neck,  with  my 
glove  on,  as  one  would  take  up  a  small  scotched  viper,  and  fling 
him  over  the  wall,  to  crawl  a  few  inches  before  death,  on  the  dust  of 
the  road  1 

Shepherd,  Their  vulgar  venom  shall  never  poison  my  ear,  my 
dear  sir.  But  had  natur  but  gien  them  fangs,  hoo  the  reptiles  wad 
bite !     There's  a  speeder,  sir,  on  your  chin. 

North,  I  love  spiders.  Look  at  the  lineal  descendant  of  Arachne, 
how  beautifully  she  descends  from  the  chin  of  Christopher  North  to 


Digitized  by 


Google 


996  soom  jjcbrosiakjb. 

the  lower  region  of  our  earth !  But  speaking  of  public  and  priyate 
diaracters  — 

Shepherd.  Tbat*8  a  pnzzlin'  question,  sir.  Let's  speak  o'  Poets. 
Ae  thing's  certain ;  that  afore  you  can  express  ony  ae  single 
thought  or  feelin'  in  poetry,  you  maun  hae  had  it  in  your  spirit  or 
heart,  strong,  distinct,  fresh,  and  bricht,  in  real  leevin*  experience 
and  actual  natur.  It  maun  hae  been,  whether  originatin'  entirely  in 
yoursell,  or  transfused  through  you  by  anither,  your  ain  bonnj 
feedy  possession  and  property—else  it'll  no  be  worth  a  strae  ia 
verse.     Eh  ? 

North,  Granted. 

Shepherd.  Secondly,  however  a  poet  may  write  weel  by  fits  and 
starts,  in  a  sort  o'  inspiration  like,  thae  fits  and  starts  themsells  can 
only  come  frae  a  state  o'  the  speerit,  habitually  meditative,  and 
rejoicin'  in  its  ain  free  moods.  Therefore  however  muckle  they 
may  astonish  you  that  does  na  ken  him,  they  are  just  as  characteris- 
tic o'  hie  natur  as  the  rest  o'  his  mair  ordinary  proceedings,  and 
maun  be  set  down  to  the  score  o'  his  natural  and  indigenous  eonsti- 
tution.     Eh  ? 

North.  Granted. 

Shepherd.  What  a  poet  maist  dearly  and  devoutly  loves,  about 
that  wull  he,  of  coorse,  write  the  feck  o'  his  poetry.  His  poetry, 
therefore,  wull  contain  mair  of  his  deeper,  inner  self,  than  ony 
thing  else  can  do  in  this  warld — that's  to  say,  if  he  be  a  real  poet, 
and  no  a  pretender.  For  Til  defy  ony  human  cretur,  unless  he  has 
some  sinister  end  to  gain,  to  keep  writin',  or  speakin'  either,  a'  his 
life  lang  about  things  that  dinna  constitute  his  chief  happiness.    £h  1 

North.  Granted. 

Shepherd.  Fourthly,  if  his  poetry  be  gude,  and  if  the  states  o' 
sowl  formin'  the  staple  o't  be  also  gude,  and  if  his  poems  be  sae 
numerous  and  important  as  to  hae  occupied  him  mair  or  less  a'  his 
life  lang,  then  I  shud  like  to  know  on  what  ither  principle  he  can  be 
a  bad  man,  except  that  he  be  a  hypocrite — but  if  he  be  a  hypocrite, 
that'll  be  seen  at  ance  in  his  poetry,  for  it'll  be  bad — but  then  the 
verra  reverse,  by  the  supposition,  is  the  case,  for  his  poetry  is  gude; 
and  therefore,  if  he  be  na  a  gude  man,  taken  on  the  whole,  a'  this 
warld  and  this  life's  delusion  thegither,  black's  white,  het  cauld, 
virtue  vice,  and  frae  sic  a  senseless  life  as  the  present  there  can  be 
nae  reason  to  believe  in  a  future.  And  thus  you  end  in  a  denial  of 
the  Deity,  and  avoo  yourself  to  be  an  atheist.     Eh  f 

North.  Granted  almost. 

Shepherd.  Fifthly,  sir — what's  this  I  was  gaun  to  say  ?  Ou  ay. 
A  man's  real  character,  then,  is  as  truly  shown  in  his  poetry  as  in 
his  religion.  When  he  is  poetical  and  when  he  is  religious,  he  is  in 
his  highest  states.     He  exists  at  his  best.    Then  and  therein  is  the 


Digitized  by 


Google 


RATIONALB  OF  POBTBY.  297 

perfection  o'  his  natur.  But  it  disna  follow — by  no  raainner  o* 
means — but  that  the  puir  mortal  oretur  may  be  untrue  to  himsell — 
untrue  baith  to  his  poetry  and  to  his  religion — and  ower  aflen  stain 
himsell  wi*  a'  sorts  o'  vices  and  crimes.  King  David  did  sae — yet 
^ha  ever  doubted  either  his  poetry  or  his  religion — or  whare  would 
you  look  for  either,  or  for  the  man  himsell,  but  in  his  Psalms  1     Eh  ? 

North,  Granted,  James — granted. 

Shepherd,  If  the  Bard  o'  virtue  and  morality,  and  religion  and 
immortal  truth,  sink  down  frae  his  elevation  amang  the  stars,  and 
soil  his  spirit  wi'  the  stain  o'  clay,  what  does  that  prove  but  that  he 
is  not  a  seraph,  inspired  though  he  be,  but  like  the  sumphs  around 
him,  a  sinner — oh !  a  greater  sinner  than  they,  because  tumblin'  frae 
a  loftier  height,  and  sin  kin'  deeper  inj^o  the  mire  that  bedabbles  his 
glorious  wings,  that  shall  require  other  waters  to  cleanse  them  than 
ever  flowed  frae  Helicon. 

North,  These  are  solemn — yea,  mournful  truths. 

Shepherd.  Show  me  ae  leevin'  mortal  man,  consistent  wi'  himsell, 
and  at  a'  times  subject  to  the  rule  o'  life  as  it  is  revealed  in  scrip- 
ture, and  then  tell  me  that  a  good,  a  great  poet  is  not  truly  shown 
in  his  warks,  and  I  will  believe  you — but  not  till  then — for  the  hum- 
blest and  the  highest  spirit,  if  tried  by  that  test,  will  baith  be  found 
wantin' ;  and  a'  that  I  ask  for  either  the  ane  or  the  ither  set  o'  sin- 
ners is — justice. 

North,  Yet  something  there  seems  to  be  unexplained  in  the 
subject. 

Shepherd,  There  maun  aye  be  left  something  unexplained  in  every 
subject,  sir.  But  hear  till  me  ae  minute  langer.  A  man  may  de- 
liver himsell  up  to  poetry  wi'  too  total  a  devotion — sae  that  he 
comes  to  dislike  common  life.  There's  much  in  common  life,  sir,  as 
you  ken,  that's  painfu',  and  a  sair  restraint  on  tlie  wull.  Folk  maun 
learn  not  only  to  thole,  but  absolutely  to  love,  many  things  in  ithers 
that  would  cut  but  a  poor  figure  in  poetry ;  and  to  cherish  many 
things  in  themsells  that  hae  nae  relation  whatsomever  wi'  the  imagi- 
nation. Every  head  o'  a  house  maun  be  sensible  o'  that  wha  does 
his  duty  as  a  husband,  a  father,  a  master  and  a  friend.  Let  these 
things  be  forgotten,  or  felt  to  be  burdensome — and  the  mind  that 
loves  at  all  times  to  expatiate  freely  in  a  warld  o'  its  ain — even 
though  the  elements  o't  be  a'  human — is  under  a  strong  temptation 
to  do  sae — and  then  the  life  o'  the  man  becomes  defective  and  dis- 
ordered. In  such  cases,  the  poet  who  loves  virtue  in  her  ideal 
beauty,  and  worships  her  in  spirit  and  in  truth,  may  frae  her  au- 
thority yet  be  a  recreant — ^in  real  life.  That's  a  short  solution  o' 
much  that's  puzzlin'  and  perplexin'  in  the  conduct  o'  men  o'  genius ; 
but  there's  anither  key  to  the  difficulty,  sir — only  I  fear  I'm  gettin' 
tedious  and  tiresome. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


398  NOCTES   AMBBO0KAKJ&. 

North,  No— no — my  dear  James,  go  on. 

Shepherd.  Theresa  danger  in  the  indulgence  o'  feelings,  let  them 
be  even  the  highest  and  the  holiest  o'  our  nature,  without  constant 
corresponding  practice  to  prevent  their  degeneration  into  more  aim- 
less impulses — and  these  aimless  impulses  are  found  but  a  weakpro- 
tection  against  the  temptations  that  assail  us  in  this  world.  Whj, 
sir,  I  verily  believe  that  religion  itsell  may  be  indulged  in  to  excess, 
when  frequent  ca's  are  no  made  on  men  to  act,  as  well  as  to  think 
and  feel.  The  man  of  religion  is  perfectly  sincere,  though  he  be 
found  wanting  when  put  to  trial — just  like  the  man  o'  genius. 
Well-doing  is  necessary. 

North,  Then  you  have  hit  the  nail  on  the  head,  James. 

Shepherd.  Shall  we  say  then,  in  conclusion,  that  the  true  character 
of  a  true  poet  is  always  exhibited  in  his  poetry?  £h  ?  It  must  be 
so — Burns,  Byron,  Cowper,  Wordsworth,  are  all,  in  different  ways, 
proofs  of  the  truth  of  the  apophthegm. 

North,  But  what  think  you,  James,  of  the  vulgar  belief,  that  a 
bad  private  may  be  a  good  public  character? 

Shepherd,  That  it  is  indeed  a  most  vulgar  belief.  A  bad  pri- 
vate character  is  a  blackguard — and  how  could  a  blackguard  make  a 
gude  public  character  1     Eh  ? 

North,  That's  a  poser. 

Shepherd,  Only  you  see  there's  scarcely  sic  a  thing  as  morality  in 
political  life ;  or  if  there  be,  it's  anither  oode  and  gangs  by  the  name 
o^  Expediency.*  A  blackguard  may  be  a  gae  good  judge  o'  maist 
kinds  o'  expediency — but  whenever  the  question  gets  dark  and  diffi- 
cult, you  maun  hae  recoorse  to  the  licht  o'  conscience,  and  what  be- 
comes o'  the  blackguard  then,  sir  I  He  gangs  blind&ulded  ower  a 
precipice,  and  is  dashed  to  pieces.  But  besides  expediency,  there^s 
what  they  ca'  honor — national  honor — and  though  I  scarcely  see  hoo 
it  is — yet  great  blackguards  in  private  life  hae  a  sease  o'  that,  and 
wadna,  but  under  great  temptation,  sacrifice  't.  A  bribe,  however, 
administered  to  their  besettin'  sin,  whatever  that  may  be,  will  gene- 
rally do  the  business,  and  they  will  even  sell  the  freedom  of  their 
country  for  women  or  gold. 

North.  I  do  not  well  know  what  to  think  of  public  men  JBst  now, 
James. 

Shepherd,  They  seem  to  be  a  poor  pitifu'  pack,  the  maist  o'  theni, 
especially  wi'  some  twa  or  three  exceptions— our  ain  Forty-Fivcf 
Whenever  a  man  past  thirty  tells  me  that  he  has  changed  his  opinion 

*  Thu  ineer  at  Expediency,  u  well  u  that  on  a  man^i  changing  hit  opinioni  aft«r  the  age 
of  thirty,  wai  lerelled  aj^ainit  Wellington  and  Peel,  who  had  arc  wed  that  ezpedienej  alon* 
forced  them  to  grant  Catholic  Emancipation. — M. 

t  PrerioaB  to  the  Reform  Bill  of  1832,  Scotland  sent  forty-flre  membera  to  the  Hoqm  of  Com- 
mona— 31  for  the  oonnties  amd  14  for  the  boronghi.  Bj  the  Reform  Bill  30  meabera  were 
allowed  for  the  countiea  and  U3  for  the  boroughs.  In  1890,  the  great  majority  of  Sootoh  mem- 
ben  were  ultra-Tory.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


nOCOBTAL  THOUGHTS.  299 

about  onj  given  thing  in  ony  given  time,  gude  manners  alane  hinder 
me  frae  tellin'  him  that  he  is  a  leear.  But  let's  hae  uae  polities. 
What  the  deevil  are  you  thinkin'  about  that  you're  no  attendin'  to 
me  speakin*  1  Dinna  be  absent.  For  Heaven's  sake  gie  ower  that 
face.  Ay,  there  the  black  thunder-doud  has  passed  awa',  and  your 
benign  auld  beautifu'  physiognomy  ance  mair  looks  like  itsell  in 
the  licht  o'  heaven. 

North.  I  chanced  to  look  at  this  ring  — 

Shepherd.  What?  The  ane  on  your  wee  finger  1  The  finest 
diamond  ever  glittered. 

North.  And  the  image  of  the  Noble  Being,  in  remembrance  of 
whom  1  have  worn  it  for  twenty  years,  rose  up  before  me — ^me* 
thought  in  the  very  attitude  in  whidi  he  used  of  old  to  address  a 
public  assembly — the  right  arm  extended — so  — 

Shepherd.  Few  things  in  this  weary  warld  sae  delichtfu'  as  Keep- 
sakes !  Nor  do*  they  ever,  to  my  heart  at  least,  nor  to  my  eea,  ever 
lose  their  tender,  their  powerfii'  charm  ! 

North.  How  slight — how  small — how  tiny  a  memorial,  saves  a 
beloved  friend  from  oblivion — worn  on  the  finger  — 

Shepherd.  Or  dose  to  the  heart!  Especially  if  he  be  dead! 
Nae  thocht  sae  unsupportable  as  that  o'  entire,  total,  blank  fbrget- 
fulness — whan  the  cretur  that  ance  laucht,  and  sang,  and  wept  to  us, 
close  to  our  side,  or  in  our  verra  arms,  is  as  if  her  smiles,  her  voice, 
her  tears,  her  kisses,  had  never  been !  She  and  them  a'  swallowed 
up  in  the  dark  nothingness  o'  the  dust ! 

North.  It  is  not  safe  to  say,  James,  that  any  one  single  thought 
that  ever  was  in  the  mind  is  forgotten.  It  may  be  gone,  utterly 
gone — like  a  bird  out  of  a  cage.  But  a  thought  is  not  like  a  bird, 
a  mortal  thing ;  and  why  may  it  not,  after  many,  many  long  years 
have  past  by — so  many  and  so  long  that  we  look  with  a  sort  of 
quiet  longing  on  the  churchyard  heaps — why  may  it  not  return  all 
at  once  from  a  "  fiiir  countree,"  fresh,  and  fair,  and  bright,  as  of 
yore,  when  first  it  glided  into  being,  up  from  among  the  heaven-dew 
opened  pores  in  the  celestial  soil  of  the  soul,  and  *'  possessed  it 
wholly,  as  if  there  for  ever  were  to  have  been  its  blissful  abiding- 
place,  in  those  sunny  regions  where  sin  and  sorrow  as  yet  had  shown 
their  evil  eyes,  but  durst  not  venture  in,  to  scare  off  from  the 
paradise  even  one  of  all  its  divinest  inmates  !  Why  may  not  the 
thought,  I  ask,  return— or  rather,  rise  up  again  on  the  spirit,  from 
which  it  has  never  flown,  but  lain  hushed  in  that  mysterious  dormi- 
tory, where  ideas  sleep,  all  ready  to  wake  again  into  life,  even  when 
most  like  death — ^for  ideas  are  as  birds  of  passage,  and  they  are  also 
akin  to  the  winter-sleepers,  so  that  no  man  comprehends  their  exits 
or  their  entrances,  or  can  know  whether  any  one  of  all  the  tribe  is 


Digitized  by 


Google 


300  N0Cn*£8  AMBBOSIAKJS. 

at  any  one  moment  a  million  of  miles  off,  or  wheeling  round  his 
head,  and  ready  to  perch  on  bia  hand  ! 

Shepherd,  Alloo  me,  sir,  noo  to  press  you  to  anither  glass  o'  Mrs. 
Gentle's  elder-flower  wine. 

North,  Frontignao !  Now,  do  you,  James,  take  up  the  ball — for 
I'm  out  of  breath. 

Shepherd,  To  please  you,  sir,  I  hae  read  lately— or  at  least  tried 
to  read — thae  books,  and  lectures,  and  what  not,  on  the  Association 
o*  Ideas — and  yon  explanations  and  theories  of  Tammas  Broon's 
and  Mr.  Dugald  Stewart's,  and  Mr.  Alison's,  and  the  lave,  seem,  at 
the  time  the  volume's  lyin'  open  afore  you,  rational  aneuch — ^ 
that  you  canna  help  believin'  that  each  o'  them  has  flung  doon  a 
great  big  bunch  o'  keys,  wi'  a  clash  on  the  table,  that'll  enable  you 
to  open  a'  the  locks  o'  a'  the  duors  o'  the  Temple  o'  Natur.  But, 
dog  on't !  the  verra  first  lock  you  try,  the  key'll  no  fit !  Or  if  it 
fits,  you  cannot  get  it  to  turn  roun',  though  you  chirt  wi'  your  twa 
hands  till  you're  baith  black  and  red  in  the  face,  and  desperate 
angry.  A  the  Metapheesicks  that  ever  were  theoreezed  into  a 
system  o*  Philosophy  '11  never  clear  up  the  mystery  o'  memory  ae 
hue,  or  enable  me  nor  ony  body  else  to  understand  hoo,  at  ae  time, 
ye  may  knock  on  your  head  wi'  ^our  loof  or  nieve  till  it's  sair, 
without  awakening  a  single  thocht,  ony  mair  than  you  would 
awauken  a  dormouse  in  the  heart  o'  the  bole  of  an  aik,  by  tappin' 
on  the  rough  hide  ;  while  at  another  time,  you  canna  gie  your  head 
a  jie  to  the  ae  side,  without  tens  o'  thousans  o'  thochts  fleein'  out  o' 
your  mouth,  your  nose,  and  your  een,  just  like  a  swarm  o'  beea 
playin'  whurr — and  bum — into  the  countless  sky,  when  by  chance 
you  hae  upset  a  skep,  or  the  creturs  o'  their  ain  accord,  and  in  the 
passion  o'  their  ain  instinct,  are  afl*  after  their  Queen,  and  havin' 
tormented  half  the  kintra-side  for  hours,  a'  at  last  settle  down  on 
the  branch  o'  an  apple-tree  perhaps — the  maist  unlikely,  to  all  ap- 
pearance, they  could  find — and  perplexin'  to  the  man  wi*  the  ladder, 
and  the  towel  outower  his  face, — because  the  Queen-Bee  preferred, 
for  some  inscrutable  reason,  that  ackward  branch  to  a'  ither  resting- 
places  on  which  she  could  hae  rested  her  doup,  although  it  was 
physically  and  morally  impossible  that  she  could  ever  hae  seen  the 
tree  afore,  never  havin'  been  alloo'd  to  set  her  foot  ayont  the  door 
o'  the  skep,  for  reasons  best  known  to  her  subjects,  or  at  least  her 
Ministers,  wha.  Unlike  some  ithers  I  micht  mention,  dinna  despise 
the  voice  o'  the  people,  even  though  it  should  be  nae  louder  nor  a 
murmur  or  a  hum  ! 

North.  Come,  James,  no  politics — keep  to  philosophy. 

Shepherd,  The  Queen-Thocht  's  the  same  's  the  Queen-Bee— and 
when  she's  let  loose  intil  heaven,  out  flees  the  haill  swarm  o'  winged 
fancies  at  her  tail,  wi'  a  noise  like  thunder. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


KSBPBAKBS.  301 

North,  But  we  were  speaking  of  Keepsakes  — 

Shepherd,  And  sae  we  are  still.  I  see  the  road  windin'  alang 
on  the  richt  haun  yonner — but  weVe  like  passengers  loupin  aflT  the 
tap  o'  a  cotch  at  the  fit  o'  a  hill,  and  divin*  devious  through  a  wood 
by  a  short  out,  to  catch  her  again  afore  she  gets  through  the  turn- 
pike. 

North,  The  pleasantest  way  either  of  travel  or  of  talk. 

Shepherd,  Ten  hunder  thousan'  million  thochts  and  feelings,  and 
fancies,  and  ideas,  and  emotions,  and  passions,  and  what  not,  a'  lie 
thegither,  heads  and  thraws,  in  the  great,  wide,  safl,  swellin',  four- 
posted,  mony-pillowed  bead  o'  the  imagination.  Joys,  sorrows, 
hopes,  fears,  raptures,  agonies,  shames,  horrors,  repentances,  re- 
morses— strange  bed-fellows  indeed,  sir,— some  skuddy  naked,  some 
clothed  in  duds,  and  some  goi^eously  apparelled,  ready  to  rise  up 
and  sit  down  at  feasts  and  festivals  — 

North,  Stop,  James,  stop  — 

Shepherd,  'Tis  the  poet  alane,  sir,  that  can  speak  to  ony  purpose 
about  sic  an  association  o'  ideas  as  that,  sir ;  he  kens  at  every  hotch 
amang  them,  whilk  is  about  to  start  up  like  a  sheeted  cadaver  shiv- 
erin'  cauld-rife  as  the  grave,  or  a  stoled  queen,  a  rosy,  balmy, 
fragrant-bosomed  queen,  wi'  lang,  white,  satin  arms,  to  twine  roun* 
your  verra  sowle !  But  the  metaphyseecian,  what  kens  he  about  the 
matter  1  Afore  he  has  putten  the  specs  astraddle  o'  his  nose,  the 
floor  o'  the  imagination  is  a'  astir  like  the  foaming  sea — and  aiblins 
hushed  again  into  a  cawm  as  deep  as  that  o'  a  sunny  hill,  where  lichta 
and  lambs  are  dancin'  thegither  on  the  greensward,  and  to  the  music 
o'  the  lilting  linties  amang  the  golden  groves  o'  broom,  proud  to  see 
their  yellow  glories  reflected  in  the  pools,  like  blossoms  bloomin'  in 
anither  warld  belonging  to  the  Naiads  and  the  mermaids  ! 

North,  But,  James,  we  were  speaking  of  Keepsakes. 

Shepherd,  And  sae  we  are  still.  For  what  is  a  keepsake  but  a 
material  memorial  o'  a  spiritual  happenin'?  Something  substantial, 
through  whose  instrumentality  the  shadowy  past  may  resettle  on  the 
present — till  a  bit  metal,  or  a  bit  jewel,  or  a  bit  lock  o'  hair,  or  a  bit 
painted  paper,  shall  suddenly  bring  the  tears  into  your  startled  and 
soflened  een,  by  a  dear,  delightfli ,  overwhelmin'  image  o'  Life-in- 
Death? 

North.  Of  all  keepsakes,  memorials,  relics,  most  tenderly,  most 
dearly,  most  devoutly,  James,  do  I  love  a  little  lock  of  hair  1  and  oh ! 
when  the  head  it  beautified  has  long  mouldered  in  the  dust,  how  spir- 
itual seems  the  undying  glossiness  of  the  sole  remaining  ringlet ! 
All  else  gone  to  nothing,  save  and  except  that  soft,  smooth,  burnish- 
ed, golden,  and  glorious  fragment  of  the  apparelling  that  once  hung 
in  clouds  and  sunshine  over  an  angel's  brow ! 


Digitized  by 


Google 


802  N0CT£8   AlCBBOSIANiS. 

Shepherd,  Ay— as  poor  Kirke  White  Bays — 

«  It  must  hare  been  a  lovely  head 
That  had  such  lovely  hair." 

Bat  dlnna  think  ony  mair  upon  her  the  noo,  sir.  What  fules  we 
are  to  summon  up  shadows  and  spectres  frae  the  grave,  to  trouble — 

North.  Her  image  troubles  me  not.  Why  should  it  1  Methinks 
I  see  her  walking  yonder,  as  if  fifby  years  of  life  were  extinguished, 
and  that  were  the  sun  of  my  youth !  Liook — ^look — James  ! — a  fig- 
ure all  arrayed,  like  Innocence,  in  white  garments !  Gone  ! — gone  I 
-—Yet  such  visions  are  delightful  visitants,  and  the  day,  and  the  eve- 
nirg,  and  the  night,  are  all  sanctified  on  which  the  apparition  comes 
and  goes  with  a  transient  yet  immortal  smile ! 

Shepherd.  Ay,  sir!  a  lock  o*  hair,  I  agree  with  you,  is  fkt  better 
than  ony  pictur.  lt*s  a  pairt  o'  the  beloved  object  hersell — it  be- 
langed  to  the  tresses  that  aften,  lang,  lang  ago,  may  hae  been  sud- 
denly dishevelled,  like  a  shower  o'  sunbeams,  ower  your  beatin' 
breast !  But  noo  solemn  thochts  sadden  the  beauty  ance  sae  bricht 
— sae  refulgent — the  langer  you  gaze  on't,  the  mair  and  mair  pensive 
grows  the  expression  of  the  holy  relic — it  seems  to  say,  almost  up- 
braidingly,  "  Weep'st  thou  no  more  for  me?"  and  then,  indeed,  a 
tear,  true  lo  the  imperishable  affection  in  which  all  nature  seemed  to 
rejoice,  "  when  life  itself  was  young,"  bears  witness  that  the  object 
towards  which  it  yearned  is  no  more  forgotten,  now  that  she  has 
been  dead  for  so  many,  many  long  weary  years,  than  she  was  forgot- 
ten during  an  hour  of  absence,  that  came  like  a  passing  cloud  between 
us  and  the  sunshine  of  her  living,  her  loving  smiles  ! 

North,  Were  a  picture  perfectly  like  our  deceased  friend — no 
shade  of  expression,  however  slight,  that  was  his,  awanting — none 
there,  however  slight,  that  belonged  not  to  the  face  that  has  &ded 
utterly  away — then  might  a  picture  — 

Shepherd.  But  then  that's  never  the  case,  sir.  There's  aye  some- 
thing wrang,  either  about  the  mouth,  or  the  een,  or  the  nose—or 
what's  warst  o'  a',  you  canna  fin'  fawte  wi'  ony  o'  the  features  for  no 
being  like,  and  yet  the  painter,  frae  no  keonin'  the  delightfu'  charac- 
ter o'  her  or  him  that  was  sittin'  till  him,  leaves  out  o'  the  face  Uie 
entire  speerit — or  aiblins,  that  the  portrait  mayna  be  deficient  in  ex- 
pression, he  pits  in  a  sharp  clever  look,  like  that  o'  a  blue  stocking, 
into  a  safl,  dewy,  divine  een,  swimmin*  wi*  sowie !  spoils  the  mouth 
athegither  by  puckerin'  't  up  at  the  corners,  sae  that  a'  the  innocent 
smiles,  mantlin'  there  like  Kisses,  tak  flight  ft-aesic  prim  lips,  cherry- 
ripe  though  they  be ;  and  blin'  to  the  delicate,  straught,  fine-edged 
hecht  o'  her  Grecian — ay,  her  Grecian  nose-^what  does  the  fule  do, 
but  raises  up  the  middle  o'  the  brig,  or — may  Heaven  ne'er  forgie 
him— cocks  it  up  at  the  pint  sae  that  you  can  see  up  the  nostrils — a 


Digitized  by 


Google 


PLKDGBB  OF  LOVK.  808 

thing  I  dinna  like  at  a^ — and  for  this,  which  he  ca's  a  portrait,  and 
proposes  sendin'  to  the  Exhibition,  he  has  the  conscience  to  charge 
you — wi  thou  ten  the  frame^ — the  reasonable  sum  o'  ae  hundred  pounds 
sterling ! 

North,  Next  to  a  lock  o'  hair,  James,  is  a  brooch,  or  a  ring,  that 
has  been  worn  by  a  beloved  friend. 

Shepherd,  Just  sae;  and  then  you  can  put  the  hair  intil  the 
brooch  or  the  ring— or  baith — and  wear  them  on  your  finger  and  on 
your  breast  a'  nicht  lang,  dream,  dream,  dreamin'  awa'  back  into  the 
vanished  world  o'  unendurable,  and  incomprehensible,  and  inuttera- 
ble  things ! 

North,  Or  what  think  you  o'  a  book,  my  dear  James 

Shepherd,  Ay,  a  bit  bookie  o*  ane's  ain  writin',  a  poem  perhaps, 
or  a  garland  o'  ballants  and  sangs,  with  twa  three  lovin'  verses  on 
the  fly-leaf,  by  way  o'  inscription — for  there's  something  unco  affec- 
tionate in  manuscripp — bound  on  purpose  for  her  in  delicate  white 
silver^edged  cawf,  wi'  flowers  alang  the  border,  or  the  figure  of  a 
heart,  perhaps,  in  the  middle,  pierced  wi'  a  dart,  or  breathin'  out 
flames  like  a  volcawno. 

North,  A  device,  James,  as  natural  as  it  is  new. 

Shepherd,  Nane  o'  your  sneers,  you  auld  satirist.  Whether  nat- 
ural or  unnatural,  new  or  auld,  the  device,  frae  being  sae  common, 
canna  be  far  wrang — for  a'  the  warld  has  been  in  love,  at  ae  time  or 
ither  o'  its  life,  and  kens  best  hoo  to  express  its  ain  passion.  What 
see  you  ever  in  love-sangs  that's  at  a'  new  ?  Never  ae  single  word. 
It's  just  the  same  thing  ower  again,  like  a  vernal  shower,  patterin' 
amang  the  buddin'  woods.  But  let  the  lines  come  sweetly  and  saft- 
ly,  and  a  wee  wildly  too,  fi'a  the  lips  o'  Genius,  and  they  shall  delight 
a'  mankind,  and  womankind  too,  without  ever  wearyin'  them,  whether 
they  be  said  or  sung.  But  try  to  be  original — to  keep  aff*  a'  that  has 
ever  been  said  afore,  for  fear  o'  plagiarism,  or  in  ambition  o'  origin- 
ality, and  your  poem  '11  be  like  a  bit  o'  ice  that  you  hae  taken  into 
your  mouth  unawaures  for  a  lump  o'  white  sugar. 

North,  Now,  my  dear  James,  the  hour  is  elapsed,  and  we  must 
to  our  toilet  The  Gentles  will  be  here  in  a  jiny,  and  I  know  not 
how  it  is,  but  intimate  as  we  are,  and  attached  by  the  kindest  ties, 
I  never  feel  at  my  ease  in  their  company,  in  the  afternoon,  unless  my 
hair  be  powdered,  my  ruffles  on,  and  my  silver  buckles. 

Shepherd,  Do  you  mean  the  buckles  on  your  shoon,  t  ^he  buckles 
on  your  breeks^ 

North,  My  shoon,  to  be  sure.     James — James ! 

Shepherd,  I'll  tell  you  a  secret,  sir — and  yet  it's  nae  great  secret 
either ;  for  I'm  o'  opinion  that  we  a'  ken  our  ain  hearts,  only  we 
dinna  ken  what's  best  for  them, — you're  in  love  wi*  Mrs.  (S^^tle. 
Na,  na— dinna  hang  down  your  head,  and  blush  in  that  gate;  there's 


Digitized  by 


Google 


804  NOCTBS  AMBB06IA17JS. 

nae  harm  in't — nae  sin^K)nly  you  should  marry  her,  sir;  for  I  never 
saw  a  woman  sae  in  love  wi'  a  man,  in  a'  my  born  days. 

North,  I  cannot  bring  myself  to  think  so,  my  dear  James. 

Shepherd.  Tuts.  You  canna  attempt  to  walk  across  the  room, 
that  her  twa  een  are  no  followin'  you  on  your  crutch,  wi*  a  mixed 
expression  o'  love,  and  fear  lest  you  should  fa'  and  dislocate  your 
knee-pan,  or 

North,  Crutch !  Why,  you  know,  James,  well  enough,  that  for 
the  last  twelvemonth  1  have  worn  it,  not  for  use,  but  ornament.  I 
am  thinking  of  laying  it  aside  entirely. 

Shepherd,  "And  capering  nimbly  in  a  lady's  chamber?"  Be 
persuaded  by  me,  sir,  and  attempt  nae  sic  thing.  Naebody  supposes 
that  your  constitution's  broken  in  upon,  sir,  or  that  you're  subject 
to  a  general  frailty  o'  natur.  The  gout's  a  local  complaint  wi'  you 
— and  what  the  waur  is  a  man  for  haein'  an  occasional  pain  in  his 
tae  ?  Besides,  sir,  there's  a  great  deal  in  habit — and  Mrs.  Gentle 
has  been  sae  lang  accustomed  to  look  at  you  on  the  crutch,  that 
there's  nae  say  in'  hoo  it  raicht  be,  were  you  to  gie  owre  that  cap- 
tivatin'  hobble,  and  6gure  on  the  floor  like  a  dancin'  master.  At 
your  time  o'  life,  you  could  never  howp  to  be  an  extremely — an 
uncommonly  active  man  on  your  legs — and  therefore  it's  better,  it's 
wiser,  and  it's  safer  to  continue  a  sort  o'  lameter,  and  keep  to  the 
crutch. 

North.  But  does  she  absolutely  follow  me  with  her  eyes  t 

Shepherd.  She  just  reminds  me,  sir,  when  you  are  in  the  room 
wi'  her,  o'  a  bit  image  o'  a  duck  soomin'  about  in  a  bowl  o'  water 
at  the  command  o'  a  loadstane.  She's  really  a  bonny  body— and 
no  sae  auld  either.  Naebody  '11  lauch  at  the  marriage — ^and  I 
shouldna  be  surprised  if  you  had  — 

North.  **  The  world's  dread  laugh,*'  as  it  is  called,  has  no  terrors 
to  me,  my  dear  James  — 

Shepherd.  Nane  whatever — I  weel  ken  that;  and  I  think  I  see 
you  sittin'  wi'  your  poothered  head,  aside  her  in  a  chay  drawn  by 
four  blood  horses,  cavin  their  heads  till  the  foam  flies  ower  the 
hedges,  a'  adorned  wi'  white  ribbons,  and  the  postilions  wi'  great 
braid  favors  in  their  breasts  like  roses  or  stars,  smaokin'  their  w hups, 
while  the  crood  huzzaws  you  aff  to  your  honeymoon  amang  the 
mountains  — 

North,  I  will  pop  the  question,  this  very  evening. 

Shepherd,  Just  tak  it  for  granted  that  the  marriage  is  to  be  as 
sune  as  the  settlements  can  be  drawn  up — look  to  her,  and  speak  to 
her,  and  press  her  haun,  whenever  she  puts  her  arm  intil  yours,  as 
if  it  was  a'  fixed — and  she'll  sune  return  a  bit  wee  safb  uncertain 
squeeze — and  then  by-and-by  — 

North,  I'll  begin  this  very  evening  — 


Digitized  by 


Google 


MBS.  GENTLB.  305 

Shepherd,  Saftl  j — saflly — moderate  youi  transports.  You  maun 
begin  by  degrees,  and  no  be  owre  tender  upon  her  a'  at  ance,  or 
sheMl  wunuer  what's  the  matter  wi'  you — suspeck  that  you*re  mad, 
or  hae  been  takin  a  drap  drink — and  are  only  makin'  a  fule  o' 
her  — 

North.  Ha !  yonder  she  is,  James.  Gentle  by  name,  and  gentle 
by  nature !  To  her  delicate  touch  the  door  seems  to  open  as  of 
itself,  and  to  turn  on  its  hinges — 

Shepherd.  As  if  they  were  iled.  Wait  a  wee,  and  maybe  you'll 
hear  her  bang't  after  her  like  a  clap  o*  thunder. 

North,  Hush  I  impious  man.  How  meekly  the  most  lovable 
matron  rings  the  door-bell !  What  can  that  lazy  fellow,  John,  be 
about,  that  he  does  not  fly  to  let  the  angel  in  ? 

Shepherd.  Perhaps  cleanin'  the  shoon,  or  the  knives  and  forks. 
Noo  mind  you,  behave  yoursell.     Come  awa'. 

(The  Shephkrd  tak%t  the  crutch^  and  Mr.   North  vxUks 
towards  the  Lodge,  is  fresh  as  a  five-year-old.) 


Vol.  nL-.21 


•  Digitized  by 


Google 


300  MoarBti  ambro&iasm. 


No.  XLIV.— JUNE,  1829. 

SCENE— TA«  Blue  Room.—Time,  Eight  o'cltck^  P.  M. 

Tickler,  North,  Shepherd,  Odohsrtt,  and  Rabbi  Moses  Edbehi. 

North,  You  are  considerably  changed,  Odohertj.  Your  hair  is 
decidedly  graying — nay,  don't  trouble  the  curls,  they  are  very  pretty 
still ;  and,  in  fact,  become  your  present  complexion  better  than 
black  and  all  black  would  do. 

Odoherty,  Ah !  Christopher,  I  may  say  as  Lord  Byron  did  to 
Lady  Blessington, 

"  The  bard  in  my  bosom  is  dead, 
And  my  heart  is  as  g^y  as  my  head. 

Non  swn  qualis  eram,  North  ;  I  have  turned  the  post  fairly,  and  must 
henceforlh  have  the  stand  in  view.  I  feel  very,  very  old— oh !  d^-d 
old! 

North,  Boy !  I  feel  as  young  at  this  hour  as  I  did  at  eight-and 
twenty.  Fill  your  glass,  you  stripling.  Your  third  wedding  has 
improved  you  every  way.  You  are  fatter — your  skin  is  clearer — 
you  show  symptoms  of  incipient  paunch — your  dress  is  more  grave, 
true,  but  it  is  richer — I  admire  the  chain — upon  the  whole  you  look 
respectable.  I  daresay  you  are  playing  the  devil  among  the  Dow« 
agers.     Women  are  tender  in  the  evening  of  life. 

Odoherty,  Such  Eves  need  no  tempter.  But  my  wife  is  con* 
founded ly  sharp,  Christopher.  Hang  it^  you  old  bachelors  have  no 
notion  of  things  as  they  are. 

North.  Bachelors,  indeed !  Why,  then,  you  don't  know  that  I 
was  ever  married  ? 

Oduhtfty.  If  you  ever  were,  you  have  kept  your  thumb  on  the 
circumstance.     Are  you  serious,  old  boy  t 

North,  About  three  in  the  afternoon  of  a  bonny  summer  day, 
June  the  tenth,  in  the  year  of  grace  seventy-and-two,  I  being  then 
exactly  twenty -one,  was  married  upon  as  sweet  a  lassie  as  ever  left 
an  honest  father's  house,  raining  tears  of  fear,  hope,  sorrow,  and  joy, 
on  the  threshold-stone !  Oh !  Odoherty — I  am  never  weary  o. 
living  those  days  over  again — ^those  long  bright  days,  full  of  mirth — 


Digitized  by 


Google 


TEES  BBABD.  807 

those  beiene  evenings  ~the  glorious  sunsets  on  Lochawe — the  wild 
Highland  ballad — the  utter  confidence — the  unspeakable  smiles — and 
then — but  no  more,  my  dear.  Fill  again,  and  pass  the  Cockburn. 
Alas  !  alas  !  Fuit  Ilium, 

Shepherd.  Ochon  !  Oithon  ! 

Habbi  Moses  Edrehi^  {aside,) 

I WTD*^  a-^Da  T«nja  vo^tk  y^"^"^  f '^b^ 

Odoherty,  Were  you  in  the  church  at  this  period  ? 

North,  Confound  you,  I  never  was  in  the  church.  I  was  then 
owner  and  occupier  of  a  small,  but  sufficient  lairdship ;  sat  under  my 
own  thatch — killed  my  own  mutton — ^brewed  my  own  beer — smug- 
gled my  own  brandy — kissed  my  own  wife,  and  feared  no  man. 
The  land  was  good,  improvable  and  improving — the  arable  and  the 
pasture — and  I  was  an  active  hand  at  most  things,  and  sported  the 
kilt. 

Odoherty,  Which  as  Castlereagh  told  the  dames  des  halles,  when 
they  were  sniggline  to  see  the  42d  pass,  is  un  habit  bien  commode,  as 
well  as  graceful.     But  what  came  of  Mrs.  North  ? 

North,  She  went  to  the  devil  in  the  winter  of  1773— don't  allude 
to  the  subject  again. 

Moses  JSdrehi,  m^^^^i  SDT  ^Hn 

Shepherd,  What's  that? 

North.  'Tis  an  old  saying  of  the  Talmudists,  "When  an  ass 
climbeth  a  ladder,  look  for  wisdom  among  women." 

S/iepherd,  A  saying  worthy  of  a  gowk.  Women  have  far  mair 
heart  nor  men ;  and  as  far  as  I  have  seen  the  warld,  they  have  far 
mair  sense,  and  discretion,  too.     As  for  Mrs.  North — 

Odoherty.  Hush,  (hum^)  **  Oh,  no !  we  never  mention  her." 

Tickler.  What  think  you  of  the  English  women,  Rabbi  ? 

Mo}>es  Edrehi,  —  -^ap  '^nn 

North.  1  know  what  you  are  going  to  say — Your  proverb  being 
interpreted,  signifies,  that  *'  in  two  bushels  of  dates  there  is  one 
bushel  of  stones — and  more." 

Shepherd.  Aye,  aye — I  perceive  what  he's  at.  Weel,  after  a', 
they  are  wise  folk  thae  Hebrews — and  yet  I  think  thelang  beard  has 
its  share. 

Tickler,  A  barbarous  practice — and  a  filthy.  I  am  ashamed  to 
see  moustaches,  and  whiskers,  and  Charlies,  as  the  puppies  call  them, 
coming  so  much  into  vogue  among  ourselves.  The  beard  cannot  be 
suffered  to  grow,  either  in  whole  or  in  part,  without  jwo  tajito  ob- 
scuring the  most  expressive  part  of  the  human  face  divine.  Rabbi 
Moses  has  a  mouth,  no  doubt,  and  makes  good  use  of  it,  both  as  to 
the  putting  in  and  the  putting  out;  but  hang  roe  if  any  one  of  you 
can  say  what  is  the  form  of  bis  lips. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


808  NOcrrEB  ambbooiaiim. 

Odoherty,  {aside).  Timothy  always  piqued  himself  on  the  oat  of 
his  chops. 

Shepherd,  And  what  for  dinna  you  shave  your  beard,  Rabbi  f 

Moses  Edrehi,  Car  c^est  ecrii — 'Scase  me.  sare — for  'tis  said  by 
Moshe  bantk  lishamo — "  Dow  salt  not  mar  de  corner  of  dy  beard." 
It  it»  in  the  book  £lek  Haddebarim,  dat  you  call  Levitique. 

Shepherd,  But  then  1  hae  kent  mony  a  ane  o'  your  folk  wha 
shave.     Hoo  do  they  get  ower  the  command  ! 

Moses  Edrehi,  Senor  Hogg,  kennst  du  night — I  mean,  do  you  nofc 
know  many  shentlemen,  what  are  Cristens,  dat  drink,  par  ezempio, 
and  get  vat  you  call  in  Inglis — Vass  is  de  daber,  the  Inglis  voce  fur 
ivrogne  1 

Shepherd,  Aiblins  ye  speak  sic  a  jabber  that  there's  nae  making 
kirk  or  mill  o'  what  ye  say. 

Moses  Edrehi,  Fou  ?  Cest  Fragois,  mon  ami,  et  pas  Anglois — 
das  est  mad. 

Shepherd,  Nae  doot.  I  hae  seen  mony  a  chield  as  mad  as  a 
March  hare  after  a  glass.  Ye  mean  to  say,  then,  the  Jews  wha 
shave  their  chins  hae  nae  mair  religion  than  sae  mony  drucken  auld 
tinckler  bodies,  who  like  ane  that  sail  be  nameless,  are  gi'en  to  get- 
tin'  themselves  fou  as  fiddlers. 

Moses  Edrehi,  Senor,  si. 

Shepherd,  It  is  a  comical  thing,  afler  a',  to  think  that  a  goat  has 
mair  soond  Jewish  doctrine  on  his  chin  than  a  rabbi  after  a  rawzor. 
And  yet  I'll  uphaud  it  against  ye,  Timothy,  it's  no  bad  custom  yon 
of  no  shaving.  For  ye  ken,  Mr.  Moses — Is  na  yer  Christian  name 
Moses] 

Moses  Edrehi,  I  havn't  got  no  Cristin  name,  sare;  for  Ich  bin 
nicht  a  Cristin — God  a'  might  keep  us ! 

Shepherd.  Lord  sauf  us,  1  forgot !  But  yer  first  name's  Moses  ? 

Moses  Edrehi,  Yay,  mynheer. 

Shepherd.  Ye  see,  I  hae  mony  and  mony  a  time  thocht  that  ho 
wha  first  introduced  shaving  amang  us  was  ane  of  the  greatest  foes 
o'  the  human  race.  Just  think,  man,  o'  the  awfu'  wark  it's  on  a 
cauld  Sabbath  morning,  when  the  week's  bristles  are  as  sturdy  as 
the  teeth  of  a  horse  kame,  and  the  burn  water  winna  boil,  and  the 
kirk-bell's  ringing,  and  the  wife  a'  riggit  out,  and  the  gig  at  the  door, 
and  the  rawzor  haggit  like  a  saw — Irumbull  o'  Selkirk  makes  good 
rawzors,  but  the  weans  are  unco  fond  of  playing  wi'  mine,  puir 
things.  Od  keep  us !  it  gars  me  grew  but  to  think  o'  the  first  rasp 
— and  after  a'  the  sark-neck's  blacken'd  wi'  your  bluid,  and  your 
face  is  a  bonny  sicht  to  put  before  a  congregation,  battered  ower 
wi'  brown  paper,  or  tufls  o'  beaver  afi*  yer  hat.  Oh !  I'm  clean  for 
the  lang  beard. 

Tickler,  Well,  you  have  a  good  opportunity  now  •,  for  I  under- 


Digitized  by 


Google 


OATUOLIO   EBIAKOIPATIOir.  809 

Stand  manj  of  the  leading  Protestants  have  resolved  never  to  shavo 
until  the  late  bill  be  repealed.  You  are  aware  that  thousands  of 
the  Cavaliers  followed  the  same  reverend  fashion  on  the  murder  of 
the  King,  and  never  smoothed  their  chins  till  the  day  of  the  Resto- 
ration. Indeed,  not  a  few  of  our  own  old  Jacobites  took  to  the  flow- 
ing mane  again,  upon  the  sinful  expulsion  of  King  James  II.  I  my- 
self remember  several  patriarchal  figures  in  the  Highlands. 

Shej)kerd.  If  I  were  sure  that  L«>rd  Eldon,  and  Mr.  Sadler,  and 
Lord  Chandos,  would  keep  me  in  countenance,  I  would  swear  a 
muckle  aith  this  very  minute,  it  I  would,  and  wag  a  bonny  beard  in 
Yarrow  kirk  or  the  winter  Sacrament.  But  I'm  jalousin  you're  at 
your  jokes,  Mr.  Tickler.     WuU  ye  say  as  sure's  death? 

Odokerty.  I  can  answer  for  him  this  time.  I  with  these  eyes  saw 
several  men  of  the  highest  eminence  sporting  beards  Aaron io  in 
Bond-street  only  a  week  ago.  There  was,  for  example,  Lord  Har- 
borough.* 

Shepherd,  Blessings  on  him  !  Weel,  I'm  really  glad,  just  glad, 
to  hear  there's  sae  muckle  o'  sincere  principle  left  in  the  land.  San- 
ders Trumbull,  ye've  seen  the  last  of  my  aughteen  pennies !  But, 
pity  me,  surely  the  hair  has  been  gleg  at  the  growing. 

Odoherty,  O !  they  left  oflf  shaving  the  moment  the  King's  speech 
came  out  ;f  and  tears,  you  know,  are  very  nutritive  to  the  whisker 
principle. 

Moses  Edrehi,  Carrnjo !  I  glaube  dare  has  bin  mehr  wein  d'Opor^ 
to  dan  waiters  oflf  de  Tribulation. 

Odoherty.  Ay,  Mosey  (which,  by  the  way,  is  a  mighty  neat  name 
for  a  bull,)  sorrow  is  dry.  3  'vas  obliged  to  drink  double  tides  to 
keep  myselC.  in  anything  like  oommon  temper  at  the  sight  of  so 
much  vermin  as  infested  us  on  all  sides.  Rat — ^rat — rat — ^nothing 
but  rat. 

Shepherd.  After  a',  the  most  awfu'  ratton  is  the  Deuk.  I'll  never 
say  we  were  yearsbairns  agen. 

Moses  Edrehi.  b53  ^>3» 

North.  Yes,  Rabbi ;  it  is  a  fool  who  hath  spoken.  The  Duke  is  ^ 
no  rat.  If  I  could  have  opposed  the  carrying  of  the  Roman  Catho- 
lic bill  by  bearing  my  bosom  to  the  blow,  I  would  have  done  it ; 
but  I  cannot  in^pute  hw  motives  to  the  Duke  of  Wellington.  He 
—alter  his  opinions  for  the  ordinary  and  dirty  temptations  which 
sway  the  Dawsons  and  Peels,  the  Bathursts  and  the  Westmorelands, 
and  the  other  very  small  and  miserable  deer  who  are  so  well  desig- 
nated by  the  name  of  vermin,  base  and  not  to  be  trusted — he^  the 
hero  of  all  the  fields  of  Spain,  the  hero  of  Waterloo,  the  topmost 

*  The  Earl  of  Harborongh,  who  iras  only  38  iu  the  year  1829,  naed  to  walk  about  "  boardoi 
Uke  a  paid."— M. 

t  The  Speech  from  the  Throne*  at  the  openine  of  the  Parliamentary  aeeiion  of  1889,  tQ 
which  the  intention  to  bring  in  the  Catholio  Relief  BiU  waa  annoanood— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


810  VOCTES  AlIBBOflJLHJL 

spirit  of  the  world — hi  Bat  !  James,  James,  I  should  have  blashed 
to  hear  the  word  from  you,  if  in  these  old  vellum  cheeks  there  was 
blood  enoueh  for  a  blush. 

Tickler.  But,  Christopher 

North,  Your  pardon,  dearly  beloved  friend — I  wish  the  Duke  had 
not  voted  and  legislated  as  he  has  done ;  but  he  has  a  right  to  give 
his  opinion  on  a  great  state  question,  and  to  nUer  his  opinion,  lix. 
Tickler.  He  has  matter  of  high,  perhaps  of  culpable  ambition,  to 
sway  him — for  aught  I  know  the  Standard  may  be  right  there — but 
never  of  low.  He  may  be  capable  of  being  an  Usurper — never  of 
being  a  Rat.  Who  ever  confounded  Fouchi  with  Napoleon  1  What 
infant  will  ever  mix  up  the  motives  of  a  Peel  with  those  of  Wel- 
lington 1  Fill  your  glass,  Mr.  Edrehi.  I  do  not  think  you  have 
any  Glenlivet  in  Jerusalem? 

Motes  Edrehi.  Nein,  mien  herr.     Sta  bueno.     Tish  gutes  drink. 

North.  Some  Idiots  have  been  babbling  about  Scott  s  ratting.*  I 
know  that  Scott,  ten  years  ago,  said  the  Irish  Papists  should  get 
what  they  clamored  for.  Nor  is  it  wonderful  that  a  man  whose 
imagination  lives,  if  I  may  say  so,  among  the  feelings  of  those  who 
call  themselves  the  oppressed — among  the  Saxons,  the  Cavaliers,  the 
Gael,  the  Jacobites,  6sc.,  dsc,  should  take  ^postical  interest  in  the 
case  of  the  Irish  Papists.  It  is  his  natural  bias  as  a  novelist.  But 
whether  it  was,  or  was  not,  I  shall  always  contend  that  Scott  is  in 
that  class  of  minds  that  may— nay  must  choose  for  themselves  in 
the  politics  of  this  world ;  in  fact,  he  is  one  of  us,  one  of  the  great 
men  of  the  earth — who,  though  not  exempted  from  the  ordinary 
feelings  of  humanity,  may  perhaps  upon  questions  great  or  small, 
err  as  grossly  as  the  most  ignorant,  nay,  often  more  grossly. 

Shepherd.  Ay,  true's  the  auld  say  in' — The  greatest  clerks  are  no 
the  wisest  folk. 

North.  I  say,  these  men — the  Duke  of  Wellington  and  Sir  Wal- 
ter Scott,  for  instance,  are  not  to  be  judged  by  rules  which  are  in- 
fallible upon  Peel,  or  Pattmore,  or  Bob  Wilson,  or  Bob  Waithinan 
— or  any  of  the  xadagiuwouc  offscourings  of  politics  or  pus. 

Tickler.  The  Times  people  published  a  passage  of  some  Life  of 
old  Cumberland,  some  time  since,  as  a  proof  that  Sir  Walter  had 
long  entertained  the  opinions  which  have  been  thrust  into  his  mouth 
of  late.  Nothing  could  be  more  stupidly  fallacious  than  the  citation 
made  by  these  dull  dogs.     In  that  passage,  Sir  Walter  regretted 

*  Early  in  1899.  Sir  Walter  Scott  felt  it  hit  duty  to  Mparatc  from  his  friends,  the  nltr»- 
Tories,  and  tupport  the  Dake  of  Wellington'i  experiment  of  endearoring  to  pacify  Ireland 
by  (rranting  Catholic  Emancipation.  He  wrote  aoTeral  articles  in  its  faror  in  the  Kdinburgh 
tVeeklff  Journal  ;  proposed  one  of  the  resolutions  at  the  principal  meeting  held  at  Edinbargk 
in  support  of  the  measure  ;  and,  of  course,  signed  the  petition  in  its  faror.  When  that  petition 
vas  read  in  the  House  of  Commons,  Scott's  name  among  the  svbscribexs  was  reeeired  with  so 
much  rnthusissm,  sajrs  Lockhart,  '*  thst  Sir  Robert  Peel  thought  fit  to  address  to  him  a  kpeeial 
and  Tsry  cordial  letter  of  thanks  on  that  oocaiion."  Twenty  yean  pttrioaaly  Scott  had  been 
opposed  to  Catholic  Emaacipatioa.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


811 

that  military  employment  had  not  been  granted  to  the  Paddy  Pa* 
pists,  at  the  time  Dicky  Cumberland,  an  old  crony  of  mine,  by  the 
way,  but  a  poor  body  after  all — wrote  his  very/ai*,  though  genteel 
comedy  of  the  West  Indian.  When  Scott  wrote  that  sentence,  all 
that  restriction  was  gone  by, — and  he  might,  without  disturbing 
any  dream  of  our  then  Protestant  ascendancy,  have  breathed  a  sigh 
over  the  waste  a^  Irish  energy  and  Irish  life,  in  the  service  of 
foreign  countries, — he  might  have  eulogized  the  bravery  of  the  Irish 
Popish  soldier  in  foreign  arnties,  without  serving  or  thinking  of 
serving  the  cause  of  the  Irish  Popish  lawyer  in  the  Four  Courts  of 
Dublin. 

Odoherty,  Well !  as  to  the  Irish  Brigade,  I've  my  own  theory. 
You'll  cite  me,  if  you  please,  fine  things  here  and  there  about  them ; 
but  on  the  whole,  where  was  the  general  they  revered — where  even 
the  8taflr-(»fficer !  Buch  a  set — but  I  check  myself — by-and-by  my 
book  will  appear.  Col  burn  and  I  are  in  treaty  about  it.  We  split 
only  upon  £500,  so  the  bargain  is  near  being  completed. 

NoTtk,  JRevenons.  What  I  was  saying  amounts  to  this:  we  allow 
to  great  men  that  for  which  we  most  judieiovsly  whip  and  even  hang 
little  ones.  War  is  a  universal  murder,  in  which  the  proficient  is  a 
hero,  and  honored  by  a  statue,  opposite,  perhaps,  to  the  very  spot 
where  the  retail  practitioner  in  man-killing  is  hanged.  I  say  this  is 
right.  I  can,  if  I  pleased,  give  the  reasons,  but  there  is  no  need  now^ 
•-^Edrehi,  the  bottle  is  with  you — But,  whether  I  think  it  right  or 
not,  the  world  thinks  it  right — and  it  is  enough.  Compare,  therefore, 
by  these  ordinary  and  every  day  rules,  the  great  Duke  and  Mr. 
Robert  PeeL  What  had  the  conqueror  of  Napoleon  to  gain  by  any 
political  stroke  for  the  good  or  bad  1  Morgan,  by-the-by,  you  can 
answer  for  me. 

Odoherty.  Ay,  ay,  sir  — 

North.  You  and  I  were  together  when  the  first  of  these  celebrated 
Noctes  began— no  one  else — I  have  read  the  report  of  our  conversa- 
tion,  and  inaccurate  as  these  reports  generally  are,  they  yet  0(»nvey 
somewhat  the  substance  of  what  we  say.  In  my  reported  talk  of 
that  night,  sir,  I  remarked  that  the  Dnke  of  Wellington  would  not 
obtain  any  additional  honor  for  being  the  author  of  the  very  best  of 
all  possible  corn  bills,  i  daresay  I  said  the  words,  at  all  events  I 
thought  the  thought,  and  now  stick  to  it 

Odoherty,  The  phrase  I  remember  well.     Pase  the  jug^  James. 

Shepherd.  Let  me  fill  first     This  is  rather  weak. 

Tickler.  A  fault  easily  mended  ;  put  another  hal^pint  of  Glenlivet 
into  the  jug. 

Shepherd.  Ha,  ha — ^Timotheus,  the  meal  wad  then  be  abune  the 
maut     It's  no  easy  to  mend  a  jug.     I  bae  mony  a  time  thocht  it 


Digitized  by 


Google 


812  N00TB8  AICBBOSUKJL 

took  as  Tnuckle  natural  genius  to  make  a  jug  of  punch,  as  an  epio 
poem,  sic  as  Paradise  Lost,  or  even  Queen  Hynde  hersell. 

Odoherty.  Mure,  my  friend,  more.  1  think  an  ingenious  compari- 
son between  these  works  of  intellect,  could  be  easily  made  by  a  man 
of  a  metaphysical  turn  of  mind. 

North,  A  more  interesting  consideration  would  be,  the  effect  pro- 
duced upon  the  national  character,  by  the  mere  circumstance  of  the 
modes  of  preparing  the  different  beverages  of  different  countries. 
Much  of  the  acknowledged  inferiority  of  the  inhabitants  of  wine 
countries,  arises  from  (he  circumstance  of  having  their  liquor  prepa- 
red to  their  hand.  There  is  no  stretch  of  imagination  in  pouring 
w  ine  ready  made  from  carafe,  or  barochio,  or  flask,  into  a  glass — the 
operation  is  merely  mechanical  ;  whereas,  among  us  punch  drinkers, 
the  necessity  of  a  nightly  manufacture  of  a  most  intricate  kind,  calls 
forth  habits  of  industry  and  forethought — induces  a  taste  for  chemi- 
cal experiment — improves  us  in  hygrometry,  and  many  other  sci- 
ences,— to  say  nothing  of  the  geographical  reflections  drawn  forth  by 
the  pressure  of  the  lemon,  or  the  Colonial  questions,  which  press  upon 
every  meditative  mind  on  the  appearance  of  white  sugar. 

Tickler,  Conibund  the  Colonial  question,  for  this  evening  at  any 
rate.  We  are  to  have  M'Queen  here  one  of  these  nights,  and  if  any 
man  alive  can  enlighten  us  as  to  these  matters,  he  is  the  man.*  He 
appears  to  know  Africa  as  well  as  the  Trongate  of  Glasgow,  and 
would  be  as  much  at  home  on  the  banks  of  the  river  Joliba  as  on 
those  of  the  Molendinar. 

North.  When  I  was  at  Timbuctoo • 

Shepherd^  {aside,)  A  lang  yam  is  beginning  the  noo 

Moses  Edrehi,  Sind  sie  geweson,  sare,  dans  TAfrique  1 

North,  Many  years ;  I  was  Sultan  of  Bello  for  a  long  period, 
until  dethroned  by  an  act  of  the  grossest  injustice ;  but  I  intend  to 
expose  the  traitorous  conspirators  to  the  indignation  of  an  outraged 
world. 

Tickler^  (aside  to  Shepherd.)  He's  raving. 

Shepherd,  (to  Tickler.)  Dementit. 

Odoherty^  (to  both,)  Mad  as  a  hatter.     Hand  me  a  segar. 

Moses  Edrehi,  Yo  suis  of  Maroc 

Norths  (aside.)  Zounds !  (to  Edrehi.)  I  never  chanced  to  pass  that 
way — the  emperor  and  I  were  not  on  good  terms. 

Moses  Edrehi,  Then,  sare,  you  was  good  luck  to  no  pass,  for  Uie 
emperor  wash  a  man  ver  disagreeable  ven  no  gut  humors.  Gott  keep 
ush !     He  hat  lions  in  cage — and  him  gab  peoples  zu  de  lions — dey 

*  Jamei  MoQ,Qeeii,  vho  wrote  Terr  long  artiolM  in  Blmekwood  in  defonoe  of  **  The  Weil 
iBdia  IntarMt,*'  and  af  «inst  all  anti-BlaTfliy  motiont,  ira«  Editor  of  tho  CtUtgvw  OmtUr  la 


Digitized  by 


Google 


HODSS  OT   EXBOirnON.  818 

roarflh— oh,  mucho,  mucho  ! — and  eats  de  poor  peoples — God  keep 
ush  ! — a  ver  disagreeable  man  dat  emperor. 

Shepherd,  Nae  doot — it  canna  be  a  pleasant  thing  to  be  gobbled 
by  a  lion.     Did  you  ever  see  a  lion  eat  a  man,  sir  ? 

Moses  Edrehi,  Yes,  sare,  in  Maroc.  I  was  not  always  a  zeken,  a 
viejo,  a  what  you  call  old  fellow,  with  blancho  beard — butven  I  was 
twent  I  tent  for  Talk  to  a  mountaigne  not  weit  from  Maroc  mit  two 
young  men — ve  joked  and  laughed,  and  God  help  ush,  zwei  lowen 
cam  down  the  hill,  and  in  six  halb-minute,  one  gobble  up  mein  ami- 
go  to  the  rechts,  and  dem  oder  gobble  mi  freend  to  de  links — left  I 
mean,  o  Dios — how  ver  disgreeable.  I  ran  avay.  I  say  mit  der 
Melek  David,  Ashri  haish  asher  lo  halak  bahetzath  ushaim,  ubederck 
hattaim  to  hhhamad.  So— vous  me  comprenez — ich  stand  not  in  the 
way  of  den  sinnersh  de  lionsh — but  runsh — vite — vite — oh  sehr 
schnell  I  runnsh. 

Shepherd.  Oh,  sirs,  imagine  yoursell  daundering  out  to  Canaan^ 
to  take  your  kail  wi'  our  frien'  James,  and  as  ye're  passing  the 
Links,  out  jumps  a  lion,  and  at  you ! 

Odoherty,  The  Links — oh  !  James,  you  are  no  polyglot. 

Tickler,  I  don't  wish  to  insinuate  that  I  should  like  to  be  eaten,  by 
lion  or  shepherd,  but  I  confess  that  I  consider  that  the  new  drop 
would  be  a  worse  fate  than  either. 

North,  Quite  mistaken — the  drop's  a  trifle. 

Moses  Bldrehi,  Ja  wohl.  Milord. 

Shepherd,  As  to  being  hangit,  why  that's  a  matter  that  happens  to 
mony  a  deacent  man,  and  it's  but  a  spurl  or  tway,  and  a  gaspin  gur- 
ble,  an*  ae  stour  heave,  and  a's  ower;  ye're  dead  ere  a  body's  weel 
certified  that  the  board's  awa'  from  behind  you — and  the  nightcap's 
a  great  blessing,  baith  to  you  and  the  company.  The  gilliteen,  again, 
I'm  tauld  it's  just  perfectly  ridiculous  how  soon  that  does  it's  turn. 
Up  ye  come,  and  tway  chiels  ram  your  head  into  a  shottle  in  a  door 
like,  and  your  hands  are  clasped  ahint  ye,  and  swee  gangs  the  door, 
and  you  upset  head  foremost,  and  in  below  the  axe,  and  hangie  just 
taps  you  on  the  neck  to  see  that  it's  in  the  richt  nick,  and  whirr, 
whirr,  whirr,  touch  the  spring,  and  down  comes  the  thundering  edge, 
loaded  wi'  at  least  a  hundcr  weight  o'  lead — your  head's  aff  like  a 
sybo — ^Tuts,  that's  naething — ony  body  might  mak  up  their  mind  to 
be  justified  on  the  gilliteen. 

Odoherty.  The  old  Dutch  way — the  broadsword — is,  after  all,  the 
best ;  by  much  the  easiest  and  the  genteelest.  You  are  seated  in  a 
most  comfortable  arm-chair  with  a  silk  handkerchief  over  your  eyes 
they  read  a  prayer  if  you  are  so  inclined — ^you  call  for  a  glass  of 
wine,  or  a  cup  of  coffee — an  iced  cream — a  dram — any  thing  you 
please,  in  fact — and  your  desires  are  instantly  complied  with— you 


Digitized  by 


Google 


814  K0CTB8  AMBBOBIAKJB. 

put  the  cup  to  the  lip,  and  just  at  that  moment  swap  oomea  tho 
whistling  sabre. 

Shepherd,  Preserve  us !  keep  your  hand  to  yoursell,  Captain. 

Odohcrty,  Sweep  he  comes — the  basket  is  ready — they  put  a  clean 
towel  over  it — pack  off  the  cold  meat  to  the  hospital — scrub  the 
scaffold — take  it  to  pieces — all  within  five  minutes. 

Shepherd.  That's  capital.  In  &ct  a'  these  are  civilized  exits — but 
oh  !  man,  man,  to  think  o'  a  lion  on  the  Bumtsfield  Links — what 
would  your  gowfers  say  to  that,  Mr.  Tickler? 

Tickler,  A  rum  customer,  certainly. 

Shepherd,  Oh !  the  een,  the  red,  fiery  fixit,  unwinkin'  een,  I  think 
I  see  them — and  the  laigh,  deep,  dour  growl,  like  the  purring  o^  ten 
hundred  cats — and  the  muckle  white  sharp  teeth  gimin'  and  grundin' 
— and  the  lang  rough  tongue,  and  the  yirnest  slaver  running  outour 
the  chaps  o*  the  brute — and  the  cauld  shiver — minutes  maybe — and 
than  the  loup  like  lightning,  and  your  backbane  broken  wi'  a  thud, 
like  a  rotten  rash — and  then  the  creature  begins  to  lick  your  face 
wi'  his  tongue,  and  sniffle  and  snort  owre  you,  and  now  a  snap  at 
your  nose,  and  than  a  rive  out  o'  your  breast,  and  than  a  crunch  at 
your  knee— 4ind  you're  a'  the  time  quite  sensible,  particularly  sen- 
sible. 

Odoherty.  Give  him  a  dig  in  the  muzzle,  and  he'll  tip  you  the 
coup-de-grace. 

North,  What  a  vivid  imagination  the  Shepherd  has — well,  cow- 
ardice is  an  inspiring  principle. 

Tickler,  I'll  defy  Peel  to  look  more  woe-begone  when  the  Duke 
knits  his  brow,  and  begins  to  mump  with  his  grinders. 

Moses  Edrehi,  r-^DH^Pa  B^bstl 

North,  That's  enough.  The  Rabbi  says  we  must  worship  the  fox 
in  season  ;  but  1  am  sure  the  Duke  is  any  thing  but  a  fox. 

Tickler,  Don't  know,  really, 

Moses  Edrehi,  i>an  nbs*^  Dil 

North,  V  faith,  Rabbi,  you're  coming  strong  on  us  with  your 
^Gj/xai  to-night.  He  says,  choose  rather  to  be  the  tail  of  the  lions 
than  the  head  of  the  foxes.     Do  you  agree,  Tickler  ? 

Tickler,  1  care  nothing  about  politics  now.  The  Constitution  is 
undermined ;  but  perhaps  the  old  walls  may  hang  together  long 
enough  to  shelter  what  remains  of  my  brief  allotted  span — I  daresay 
the  Tories  will  get  frightened  ere  another  Session,  and  muster  aboul 
the  Duke  again.     I  shall  be  surprised  at  nothing. 

Moses  Edrehi.  aib'^n") — Scuse  me,  sare,  dat  ist  von  sheep  goeth 
hinter  anoder  sheep. 

Tickler,  Yea,  even  though  the  wolf  be  at  the  gate. 

Odoherty,  The  Duke,  I  think,  might  yet  get  back  the  Tories ;  but 


Digitized  by 


Google 


QCPSOYISIKG.  Sli> 

onejfrieliminarv  is  indispensable — he  must  play  the  devil — I  mean 
the  Huslcy,  with  Mr.  Peel. 

Moses  Mirehi.  Make  Herr  Peel  de — de — Azazel,  schlcapegoat — 
vat  you  call,  and  send  him  into  de  dibr — into  de  grand  desert. 
(Fills  his  pipe,  and  smokes  vigorously — stroking  his  beard.) 

Odoherty,  His  desert,  certainly.  Well,  I  think  I  ?hall  try  a  cherry- 
stalk  too.     Hand  me  that  bushel  of  pipes  in  the  corner.  Shepherd. 

Shepherd.  Deil  a  bit  sail  ye  smoke  tOl  ye  gie  us  a  sang  first 
Come,  Captain,  clear  your  ain  pipes. 

North.  Odoherty,  I  am  told  you  sometimes  improvise  now-a-days. 
Is  it  so  ?  Where  have  you  picked  it  up  ?  Can  you  actually  do  the 
trick  1 

Shepherd.  Improveeze^  Can  the  Captain  improveeze?  What 
next? 

Odoherty.  Improvise  ?  To  be  sure  I  do.  Hang  it,  Lord  Byron 
was  never  more  mistaken  than  when  he  said  we  English 

Tickler,  We  English ! — I  like  that — three  Scotchmen,  a  Munstei 
bogtrotter,  and  a  Morocco  Jew. 

Odoherty.  Time,  my  honest  old  gafier;  the  schoolmaster  has  not 
been  long  enough  abroad  yet  to  tie  our  tongues,  at  least  mine — to 
the  full  pemickitiness  of  prim  propriety.  I  say  Byron  was  never 
more  mistaken  than  when  he  denied  to  us  the  power  of  improvising. 

North.  His  lordship,  Sir  Morgan,  allowed,  I  think,  that  Mr.  Hook 
was  an  improvisators. 

Odoherty.  "  Ay,"  said  Theodore,  when  he  heard  it — (some  of  the 
shabby  rascals  about  a  shabby  administration  were  persecuting  him 
at  the  time,  out  of  spite  for  his  political  writings)—"  however  that 
may  be,  I  am  a  damned  unlucky — Tory''  Beyond  question,  Hook, 
one  of  l^e  best  and  pleasantest  companions,  the  very  king  of  table- 
wits,  does  shine  astonishingly  in  this  feat — the  rhymes  appear  to 
tumble  into  their  places  by  magic.  You  know  his  rhymes  on  David 
Ximenes  ? 

Tickler.  No 

Odoherty.  **  Here  lieth  the  body  of  David  Ximeoee— 

A  naturalized  Jew." 

Moses  Edrehi,  {dropping  his  pipe.)  Sare  1 

Odoherty.  I  was  not  speaking  to  you,  my  old  flower  of  Aldgate, — 


"Here  lieth  the"- 


111  be  hanged  if  that  unbelieving  son  of  Satan  has  not  put  the  rhyme 
out  of  my  head.  N'importe.  Here,  then,  I  call  bumpers,  bumpers 
— ^let  us  all  improvise.  I  lay  a  wager  of  six  to  four  in  any  coin,  not 
exceeding  a  shilling,  that  not  one  of  you  breaks  down.  As  for  me, 
I  can  jingle  like  a  butter-cart 


Digitized  by 


Google 


316 


K0CTB8  AKBBOBIAH^ 


Shepherd.  And  what  wuU  it  be  aboot  1 

Odoherty,  Are  you  filled  ? 

North.  All  filled.  Nov  don't  comQ  Twisa  over  us — let  it  be  a  real 
ofif-hand  — 

Odohertt/,  Here,  then,  is  at  once  the  toast,  and  the  subject  of  our 
verse. 

"  Hay  due  oootempt  await  oo  PeeL** 

(^Drinks — North,  Shrpherd,  Ticklrr,  and  Edrehi,  Jbllow  the 

example.     Shout  from  outside  proves  that  the  company  in 

other  parts  of  the  tavern  have  caught  the  sonorous  voice  of 

Odohertt,  and  have  hastened  vociferously  to  honor  his  toast.) 

Odoherty.  Vox  populi !     Yet  in  the  House  of  Commons  he  is 

still  cheered.     What  a  set  of  spoons ! 

Tickler.  The  rising  talent  of  the  country  I 

North.  What  my  right  honorable  friend,  Mr.  Croker,  says,  is  un- 
deniably true.  That  upon  no  other  principle  could  six  hundred  and 
fifby-eight  such  average  idiots  be  gathered  in  any  country  of  Chris- 
tendom. 

Shepherd.  But  Maister  Crocker  himsell's  no  an  idiot — but  ane  o* 
the  cleverest  fallows  in  the  land.     It's  pity  that  — 

Odoherty.  Come,  I  begin,  long  measure.  Follow  ye  all  as  Phoe- 
bus inspires. 

▲   BUCOLIOAL. 

|i)ete  follatoa  a  contention  Cn  fyonot  of  f§Lt.  3Roiiett  9etl. 

Odoherty^  (chants.) 

Air — A  Pot  of  good  Ale. 

O  Tories,  dear  Tories,  who  etill  are  as  tme — 

In  spite  of  defeat— and  as  trusty  as  steel. 
Ad  apostate,  a  trimmer,  a  rat  is  iii  view, 

So,  alter  him,  boys, — and  oome  spit  upon  VfXU 

Now,  Mr.  North — the  chant  is  with  your  worship. 

North.  We  once  were  deceived — ^though  his  talent  was  small. 

Wishy-washy  his  matter,  conceited  his  sqaeal. 
For  Toryhood  loyal  we  pardon'd  it  all. 
But  this  having  yanisnd — good  day,  Ma.  Peel. 

{Nods  to  Tickler.) 

Tickler.         \  don't  doubt  ye  will  say  he  was  train'd  to  a  twist. 

That  a  spinning-bred  statesman  was  used  to  a  wheel. 
But,  punning  apart,  did  there  ever  exist 
So  bare&cea  a  turncoat  as  Westbur/s  Peel  ? 

(Nods  to  Shepherd.) 


Digitized  by 


Google 


A    BITOOLOOIOAL. 


817 


Shepherd*     Oomin'  by  Prestoopan^  I  foregathered  wi'  Name ; 

And  it  B  **  Luckie,"  qao'  I,  **  something  Btinks  in  jour  creeL'* 
And  it*B  **  hoots,  sir,"  quo'  she,  **  let  the  baddies  abe, 
They're  gaim  up  to  the  Adyooatb*  and  Mb.  Pxel. 

Moses  Edrehi,  (^^^«  '^  '^  Rabbi.) 

I  Doae  him  a  shoe,  but  his  tribe  ish  not  good. 
The  Boheutlemaa'sh  shlimy  and  shlippy  as  hoile, 

For  he  try  do  Shir  MasBeh--dat  ish  if  him  oould. 
But  ha  I  ha  1  Tat  a  Tartar  to  turn  upon  Bcel. 

Odoherty,     I  was  by  in  the  Commons  when  Wetherell  rose, 

And  trampled  this  traitor  with  merciless  heel^- 
And  believe  me  the  fiercest  of  felony's  foes 

Would  haye  then  thought  it  pity  to  crow  over  Pexl 

North.  In  the  Lords,  quoth  the  Duke,  with  his  cast-iron  smile. 

Such  as  Santon  Barsisa  received  from  the  deil, 
**  My  friend  has  been  sacrificed,"  pleasant  the  while, 
Was  the  simper  that  weloomea  this  mention  of  Fmml, 

7%ckler,         Both  in  Lords  and  in  Oommons  the  gentleman's  done. 
To  his  Master  the  lost  one  may  truckle  and  kneel. 
But  from  thoee  whom  he  cheated  his  hopes  they  are  none — 
Many  slaves  hath  the  Duke — ^the  most  abject  is  Pksl. 

Shepherd.     Now  the  men  of  this  land,  at  the  word  o'  oommand 

Maun  content  them,  like  sobers,  to  think  and  to  feel ; 
And  we  dinna  forget  that  a'  uus  is  a  debt 
Which  we  owe  to  the  upright  inflexible  Pkel. 

Moses  Edrehi, 

He  knows  what  him  means — if  him  gets  a  fair  price ; 

The  Gonab  are  sure,  sare.  as  yonCt  not  /a^e/, | 
Yould  to  synagogue  go  and  be  there  sbircumcise, 

Half-a-quarter  per  shent  would  convert  Ma.  Peel. 

Odoherty.    On  what  rests  his  glory  ?    Thus  answers  The  Globe, 
**  Old  laws  and  old  writs  he's  the  boy  to  repeal ; 
We  can  get  tipsy  an  hour  with  a  gipsy, 
Without  fear  of  the  hemp,  such  a  Solon  is  Peel." 

North.  Myinost  excellent  friend,  Mr.  Potter  Macqueen, 

Who  made  Lord  Johnny  Russell  for  Bedford  to  reel-* 
Drew  a  plan  for  the  Swan,  fine  as  ever  was  seen 
But  he  had  not  consulted  his  host,  Mb.  Peel 

(Stick  to  this,  Tmotht.) 

Trickier.        Ko  soooer  the  matter  was  mentioned  to  Bob, 

**  Here  Fll  find,"  cries  the  cad,  "  some  dear  kinsman  a  meal 
By  the  oath  of  mine  office  Fll  make  a  neat  job  f 

And  he  kept  his  word  that  time,  for  Tommy's  a  Psit. 

*  Sir  WilU&m  Rm.— M.    f  At  dfty  it  not  nif  ht.— C.  N. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


818  NOCTB8   AMBBOfilANiB. 

Shepherd.     I'm  trakl  Sir  John  Copley,  wha  noo  b  a  judge,* 

TboQgh  he  ne'er  wme  a  lawyer,  hung  back  wi*  hie  eea]. 
Till  the  Promising  Touth  gied  bit  elbow  a  nadge— f 
For  <*  bloid'i  thicker  nor  water  "  it  a  maxim  wi*  Pnx. 


Mime  JBdrehi. 

Said  Roediild,  (the  Premier  Baron  Jnif;) 

Of  thie  world* I  shabby  doingah  IVe  yitneaht  a  deal. 
But  It  giyeah  to  my  boebom  enheeding  relief 

That  aah  yet  Fye  eooonntered  hot  yon  MnnrBa  Bbel.^ 


Odoherty,  Satis.     Ohe,  jam  satis. 

Tickler,  And  pretty  fellows  we  are,  to  have  been  tricked  in  this 
style  by  such  brains  as  these.  I  confess  it  aggravates  my  distress 
for  the  downfall  of  the  Constitution,  that  it  should  have  gone  to  pot 
so  much  h  la  Varna.     We  too  have  had  our  Jussuff  Pacha. 

North,  Turks  and  Tories !  Well  there  are  some  points  of  re- 
semblance, I  must  confess.  But  our  Czar  is  already  within  our 
Stamboul,  and  that  is  more  than  is  like  to  be  the  case  with  the 
Muscovite  for  another  season  or  so,  I  venture  to  hint.  The  Turks 
are  bad  enough,  I  admit,  but  not  quite  so  incorrigible  in  their  aim- 
plicity  as  our  High  Qiurchmeu. 

Odoherty.  Phillipotto,  for  instance, — 

« In  hit  living  of  Stanhope,  at  gay  at  you  please.**] 

Shepherd.  There  is  an  auld  Scotch  rhyme.  Rabbi,  that  says  — 

*  llie  Devil  and  the  Dean  begin  with  ae  letter, 

When  the  Deil  gets  the  Dean,  the  Kirk  will  be  the  better.* 

Odoherty,  No  idiots  are  like  the  Tories,  depend  upon  it.  Only 
look  at  Stinkomalee§  and  King's  College  !  Activity,  union,  craft, 
indomitable  perseverance  on  the  one  side — indolence,  indecision,  in- 
ternal distrust  and  jealousies,  calf-like  simplicity,  and  cowardice 
intolerable  on  the  other,  to  say  nothing  of  jobbing  without  end.  Tis 
enough  to  make  a  horse  sick  to  compare  Brougham,  Homer,  and 
these  indefatigable  Professors — all  at  one,  all  alive,  all  moving,  and 
already  succeding  in  every  thing — with  Blomfield  bullying  Copple- 
stone,  Copplestone  fawningly  undermining  Blorafield,  little  Cole- 
ridge spinning  letters — Quintin  Dick — Proh  Jupiter ! — the  higgling^ 
about  Domerset  House — the  sycophantish  intrigues  with  the  Stinko- 

*  Nov  Lord  LTiidhvnt.~M. 

f  Thomu  Feel  had  lately  receired  that  large  grant  of  land  ia  Atutnlia,  vhere  he  l6aBd«d 
the  Swan  Rirer  Settlement.— M. 

X  Thia  ohant,  vhioh  embodied  the  Tory  feelings  a«  respeets  Peel  in  1898,  was  written  by 
Maginn.— M. 

If  Dr.  Phillpotts,  Reotor  of  Sunhope,  vas  one  of  the  olergymen  vho  mttetf,  in  1830,  on  the 
Catholio  Question.    The  following  year  he  was  made  Bishop  of  Exeter.    Canae  and  effeot  ? 

%  Theodore  Hook's  miokname  lot  London  (JniTeiaity.^M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


CHEAP  LITBBATUBE.  819 

xnalee  folks  themselves — the  unfilled  purse — the  drooping  hope — 
the  beggarly  nonsense  about  degrees,  and  gowns,  and  hours  for 
chapel!  Oh,  Rabbi,  Rabbi,  whether  shall  the  Sadducees  or  the 
Pharisees  have  our  heartiest  curse  ! 

Rabbt,  Sichem  marries  de  vife,  and  Mifgseus  is  shircumshized. 

Shepherd.  The  Family  Library,  puttin'  out  at  John  Murray's,  is 
hooever  ae  Tory  speculation  that  lucks  weel.  I  think  they'll  hae 
the  heels  of  the  Leeberals  there. 

Odoherty,  Yes,  if  they  go  on  as  they've  begun ;  but  that's  a  ques- 
tion. If  old  Constable  had  lived,  his  Miscellany  would  have  done 
splendidly — for  now  he's  gone,  Archie  was  certainly  a  very  extraor- 
dinary man.  He  had  pluck  enough  for  any  thing  in  his  trade — his 
hand  was  open,  his  eye  was  keen — and  he  evidently  had  seen 
through  the  shallowness  of  most  of  his  old  associates,  and  was  re- 
solved to  put  at  least  a  strong  leaven  of  Tory  talent,  into  their 
Whig  dough.  But  he  went  the  way  of  all  flesh,  and  little  has  been 
done  since,  that  I  think  he  would  have  patronized. 

Tickler.  Except  John  Lockhart's  Biography  of  Burns,  and  little 
Chambers's  histories  of  the  Rebellions,  no  original  works  of  much 
note  have  been  published  in  the  Miscellany — unless  very  lately — 
for  1  confess  I  have  not  seen  the  concern  these  six  months  or  so. 

North.  Why,  there  are  other  things  decent  enough ;  but,  on  the 
whole,  'tis  not  a  very  thriving  aflair — it  wants  a  head — ^and  I  believe 
the  circulation  is  no  great  matter. 

Odoherty,  Considerable,  I  am  told  ;  but  nothing  to  the  Useful 
Knowledge  concern. 

Tiekler.  Brougham's  Committee  have  been  so  lucky  as  to  put 
forth  a  few  admirable  tracts — most  admirable  ones — Charles  Bell's, 
for  example.  But  of  all  the  infernal,  pompous,  unmeaning,  unintel- 
ligible trash  that  ever  mortal  eyelid  darkened  over,  commend  me  to 
the  histories  and  biographies  of  the  Library  of  Useful  Knowledge. 
Where  Brougham  has  picked  up  such  a  squad  of  boobies,  heaven 
only  can  tell.  1  think  you  said,  last  time  we  met,  that  the  Library 
of  Entertaining  Knowledge  promised  better. 

North,  Yes ;  but  even  there  the  second  number  is  a  sad  falling  off 
from  the  first ;  and  the  first,  after  all,  was  more  attractive  for  the 
wood-cuts  than  the  writing.  But  Charles  Knight's  an  able  aud 
worthy  fellow,  and  I  hope  he'll  bestir  himself  and  prosper. 

Odoherty.  You  Tories  seem  to  me  to  be  giving  up  hope  about 
every  thing.  That's  horrid  stuff,  Christopher,  '^u  ought  not  to 
wish  success  to  these  folks.  For  disguise  their  plans  as  they  may, 
can  there  be  any  doubt  what  the  real  ultimate  object  of  Brougham's 
Schoolmasters  are  ?  And  can  you,  even  now,  neglect  any  opportu 
nity  of  at  least  putting  a  remora  in  their  way  ? 

Moses  Edrehi.  Senor  North,  kenn'st  du  de  saying  of  Ben  Syra  ? 


Digitized  by 


Google 


820  NOCTES   AMBB08IAN.fi. 

Norih,  Yea,  truly  ;  and  a  wise  one  that  is — "  He  that  gives  honor 
to  his  enemy  is  like  to  an  ass."     What  say  you  to  that,  James  ? 

Shepherd.  Ditto — ditto — ditto.  Claw  me  and  I'll  claw  thee. 
When  will  the  tinklers  speak  a  gude  word  o*  ony  o'  our  folk  ? 

North,  Why,  that  sort  of  thing  appears  to  be  much  on  the  decline 
just  at  present.  1  see  almost  all  the  Whig  papers  puffing  Murray's 
concern  very  potently. 

Odoherty.  Nothing  like  liberality.  I  wonder  what  Croker  non 
thinks  of  the  style  Bonaparte  is  talked  of  in  the  Family  Library. 
Heavens !  if  he  has  not  clean  forgotten  his  papers  in  the  Quarterly 
some  five  or  six  years  back,  what  must  be  his  wrath  in  seeing  sudi 
productions  coming  out  of  Albemarle-street ! 

Tickler.  1  expect  to  find  Johnson's  Toryism,  and  so  forth,  treated 
as  contemptible  weaknesses  in  the  Secretary's  own  edition  of  Bos- 
well.     Nothing  like  the  march  of  intellect — it  is  taking  all  in. 

North,  As  to  Bonaparte — whether  Croker  himself  wrote  this  Life 
of  him  or  no,  I  can't  say  ;  but  my  opinion  is,  that  if  it  were  so, 
there  would  be  nothing  to  wonder  at.  When  he  used  to  vituperate 
Napoleon,  remember  he  was  potent  for  evil.  Yes,  even  at  St 
Helena  his  name  and  words  were  playing  the  devil  continually  all 
over  Europe.  He  was  then  an  enemy,  and  to  have  honored  him 
would,  as  the  son  of  Sirach  has  laid  down,  have  been  the  part  of  an 
idiot.  But  now,  God  pity  us,  he  sleeps  sound  beneath  a  thousand 
weight  of  granite,  and  shame  on  the  mortal  who  dares  deny  that  he 
was  the  greatest  man  of  the  last  thousand  years. 

Shepherd,  Greater  than  Shakspeare  ?  or  Newton,  or 

North,  I  mean  the  greatest  Warrior  and  the  greatest  Prince — ^and 
whatever  Dr.  Channing  may  think,  it  is  my  opinion  that  these  are 
characters  not  to  be  maintained  on  a  slender  stock  of  brain.  That 
worthy  scribe  says,  Bonaparte  has  added  *^no  new  thought  to  the 
old  store  of  human  intellect."  It  must  be  admitted,  that  he  neither 
printed  reviews  nor  preached  sermons — but  still  I  have  a  sort  of 
notion  that  Bonaparte  was  a  more  powerful-minded  Unitarian  than 
Dr.  Channing.  In  fact,  laying  his  battles  and  victories,  and  even 
his  laws  and  diplomacy  out  of  view,  I  am  willing  to  stake  his  mere 
table-talk  at  St.  Helena  against  all  the  existing  written  wisdom  of 
the  United  States. 

Odoherty,  You  may  safely  do  so.  North.  Just  turn  to  that  one 
page,  in  which  Bonaparte  demolishes  Spurzheim.  Those  three  or 
four  sentences  are  worth  all  that  has  yet  been  written  on  the  sub- 
ject.    Let  Mr.  Combe  answer  them,  if  he  can. 

North,  There  are  some  things  in  Murray's  little  book  which  puzzle 
me.  It  is  said  that  the  expedition  that  went  from  Cork  to  Portugal 
in  1808,  under  Lord  Wellington,  had  been  originally  meant  lor  an 
attack  on  Mexico.     Can  this  be  so  ? 


Digitized  by 


Google 


ENGLISH   ABI15T8.  821 

Tickler.  If  it  be,  the  secret  has  been  well  kept 

Odokerty,  None  of  us  had  the  least  notion  where  we  were  bound 
for.  I  myself,  Rabbi,  thought  of  the  coast  of  Barbary — others  said 
Sicily.  We  were  all  quite  confounded  when  the  news  from  Spain 
arrived,  and  after  that  there  were  few  doubts  amongst  us. 

Moses  Edrehi,  Ich  bin  den  in  Algezira.     No  gazettes  dere,  sare. 

Tickler,  Hand  me  that  little  volume,  Odobeity.  What  a  clever 
fellow  George  Cruickshank  is.  They  said  he  was  a  mere  caricatu- 
rist. Sir,  he  is  a  painter,  a  great  painter.  Look  at  some  of  these 
things.  What  fire,  what  life,  in  this  of  the  bridge  of  Areola!  or 
here  in  the  Battle  of  the  Pyramids  !  What  utter  dismay  and  terror 
in  this  flight  from  Waterloo !  Look  at  Bony  here  sledging  it  away 
from  the  Muscovites — Oh,  what  a  dreary  waste ! — or  at  these  Cos- 
sacks charging  over  the  snow.  I  protest  I  thought  wood-cutting  had 
died  with  Bewick;  but  these  things  are  even  far  beyond  his  mark. 

Shepherd.  To  me  the  tomb  of  Napoleon  is  the  maist  touching  o' 
them  all.  Oh,  thae  willows !  and  the  bare  hillside  beyond,  and  the 
solitary  eagle ! 

North.  Murray  does  things  in  style,  certainly.  But  I  should  think 
he  was  overdoing  in  the  decorations.  What  sale  can  cover  such  ex- 
penses as  these  ?  Sixteen  engravings — half-a-dozen  on  steel — in  two 
little  volumes,  selling  for  ten  shillings.     Jt  can't  do. 

Odoherty.  It's  very  well  for  a  splash  at  starting.*  But  I  must 
say,  a  few  good  portraits  would  have  been  quite  sufficient.  The 
heads  of  the  Emperor  and  his  son  are  capital.  Those  of  Josephine 
and  Maria  Louisa  I  think  very  poor  and  stiff. 

North.  That's  probably  the  fault  of  the  confounded  French  lim- 
ners. Even  they  could  not  degrade  the  divine  outline  of  Napoleon's 
features.  But  any  ordinary  head  must  suffer  in  such  hands;  and  yet 
I'm  told  they  turned  up  their  ugly  snouts  at  Sir  Thomas  Lawrence. 

Odoherty.  The  Romans  had  more  sense — they  all  but  worshipped 
both  Lawrence  and  Wilkie.  At  the  present  time,  no  one  can  either 
write  a  book  or  paint  a  picture  worth  three  halfpence  but  in  this 
country.     The  fact  is  undeniable.f 

Tickler.  And  how  many  can  either  write  or  paint  well  here? 

North.  The  present  company  excepted,  of  course — I  consider  there 
are  about  five  or  six  good  hands  going  in  either  line — not  more. 

Tickler.  So  many  1 

Norlh.  Let  me  see,  painters — Wilkie,  one;  Lawrence,  two ;  Tur- 
ner, three;  Calcott,  four  ;  Constable,  five  ;  Willie  Allan,  six.  Come, 
there's  more  than  I  thought— Prout,  seven;  Leslie,  eight ;  Stewart 

•  It  wu  little  more  than  *'  a  pluh  at  ttarting.*'  A  Terj  tow  good  books  were  pabliihed  in 
Horraj'i  Family  l.Utrary.  The  Life  of  Napoleon,  (by  Locknart,  I  hare  aivraya  underRtood,) 
ira«  full  of  interefet,  more  impartially  written  than  might  hare  been  expected,  and  beeide, 
Mme  portraits  on  stet  1,  had  soTerai  woodcnu  after  Oeorge  Cruikshauk's  designt.--M. 

t  And  the  assertion  very  modest !— M. 

Vol.  IIL— 22 


Digitized  by 


Google 


823  N0CTS8   AMBBOSIAK^ 

Newton,  nine ;  Thompson  of  Duddingston,  ten  ;  Landseer,  eleven ; 
and,  to  make  up  a  dozen,  we  may  slump  Pickersgill,  and  £tty,  and 
Jackson,  and  Phillips,  and  Mulrcady.* 

Tickler.  Greek  Williams,  I  suggest,  ought  not  to  be  left  out 

North,  Peccavi !  Place  him  about  the  middle  of  the  ILst,  and 
then  the  dozen  will  be  a  baker's  one. 

Odohtrty.  Then,  as  to  sculptoi-s. 

North,  Why,  Chantrey  and  Westmacott  are  the  only  persons 
worth  much  f — and  they  appear  to  me  to  be  equals,  notwithstanding 
all  that  Allan  Cunningham  may  lay  down  thereanenL 

Odoheriy,  Westmacott's  Waterloo  vase  is  the  greatest  work  of 
art  ever  yet  produced  in  England.  It  will  be  the  noblest  ornament  of 
the  noblest  palace  in  the  world,  Windsor  Castle,  and  1  hope  the  King 
thinks  so. 

Tickler,  The  King  thinka — poor  gentleman,  I  am  happy  to  learn 
that  he  is  permitted  to  have  an  opinion  even  upon  a  potsherd  or  a 
pipkin. 

Odoheriy,  He  is  indeed,  as  Lord  Kenyon  says,  a  most  oppressed 
roan. 

Norlh,  If  we  may  indulge  in  the  belief,  and  I  do  not  see  anything 
wrong  in  the  thought,  that  departed  spirits  are  permitted  to  look 
upon  the  aiTairs  of  the  world  which  they  have  left,  with  an  interest 
in  some  degree  analogous  to  that  which  they  felt  when  in  the  fle&li, 
how  sorrowing  must  now  be  the  spirit  of  King  George  111.,  of  him, 
who  declared  that  he  would  sooner  lay  his  head  upon  the  block  than 
consent  Uj  the  fatal  measure  which  has  now  been  forced  upon  hia 
reluctant  and  deceived  son. 

Shepherd.  Wasna  that  say  in'  denied  to  be  the  auld  King's? 

Tickler,  Yes,  by  old  Lord  Grenville,  who  has  lost  all  his  faculties, 
as  appears  by  his  last  pamphlet. 

Shepherd.  Ay,  but  the  Duke  of  Buckingham  too  — 

TtckUr,  Who  n*».ver  had  any  faculties  to  lose.  Who  would  value 
the  testimony  of  such  a  wiseacre,  even  though  we  throw  in  as  a 
makeweight  the  carcass  of  The  Buckinghamshire  Dragoon  ?J 

Odoheriy,  I  should  be  the  last  person  for  intermeddling  in  a  family 
dispute,  but  I  must  say,  that  the  Duke  of  Buckingham's  letter  from 
Rome  to  the  A}  lesbury  people  was  most  disgusting.  There  was 
one  man  in  England  \%honi  he  dared  to  insult  with  impunity,  and 
that  was  his  hon  ;  he  therefore  did  what  no  other  man  ever  ventured 
to  do — abused  the  Marquis  of  Chandos.| 

*  Of  tnit  dozen  of  artists,  on  the  roll-call  of  celebritj  in  1829,  only  Lealit,  Landstter,  Pick 
•ngiil,  and  Mulready  are  alive  in  IH64.— M. 

t  Sir  Francis  t'iiantrey  died  in  1841.     bir  Richard  Westmacott  cnrriYM,  in  1854«— M. 

%  Lord  Mueent,— 'who  obtained  the  tobriquct  from  Canning.— M. 

Q  Now  Duae  of  Buckingham,  vho  has  contrived  to  exhuut  a  ]^nealy  fbrtnna,  and  ha.Tt  tran 
Iht  l&eirlooma  of  his  &mi^  sold  by  pnblio  auction ! — ^M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


OATHOLIO  XMANOIPATION. 

Tickler.  By  all  accounts  one  of  the  finest  and  most  spirited  young 
fellows  in  England,  and  one  whose  conduct  in  tiiis  business  has  been 
highly  honorable.  But  why  do  we  waste  our  time  about  the  Duke 
of  Buckingham,  or  his  opinions?  George  HI.,  you  were  saying,  is 
the  last  Protestant  King  of  England. 

North.  No,  Mr.  Tickler,  1  said  no  such  thing :  I  said  that  our 
King  George  IV.,  as  true  a  Protestant  as  his  father,  has  been  cheated 
and  bullied  into  a  measure  which  he  hated,  hates,  aud  will  continue 
to  hate.* 

Odoherty,  I  wish  you  had  seen  how  he  took  Wetherell,  with  both 
his  arms,  at  the  levee.  I  was  close  behind  him,  thanks  to  our  friend, 
the  Thane. 

Shepherd.  What  for,  then,  did  he  gie  his  consent?  Could  he  no 
have  faulded  his  hands  ahint  his  back  1 

North.  In  his  circumstances,  he  could  scarcely  have  acted  other- 
wise than  he  did.  He  was  told  that  he  was  giving  his  consent  to  a 
measure,  which,  if  delayed  another  year,  would  have  been  carried 
without  his  consent,  and  carried  with  all  the  horrors  aud  bloodshed 
of  a  civil  war. 

Tickler.  Civil  war?     Where? 

North.  In  Ireland. 

TickUr.  Pish! 

Odoherty.  Stuff! 

North,  Aye,  gentlemen,  pish  !  and  stuff!  are  very  fine  arguments 
with  us  when  over  our  toddy,  (by-theby,  the  old  Rabbi  is  asleep,) 
but  they  would  not  sound  well  at  the  council-board  of  a  great  nation. 
The  King  was  told  of  various  arniies  being  in  the  field  in  Ireland — 
of  uhole  districts  rising  en  masse  — 

Odoherty.  And  after  mass. 

North.  Let  me  go  on,  sir,  I  request.  He  was  told  that  the 
Association  wielded  the  force,  moral  and  physical,  of  their  country 
— he  heard  of  crusades  against  the  Protestants  of  Ulster,  and  threats 
of  massacre  of  the  Protestants  in  all  other  quarters  of  the  island 
— he  saw  that  his  Lord  Lieutenants,  and  his  law-oflncers,  did  not 
try  to  repress  these  things;  and  he  was  told  that  their  inactivity 
arose  from  their  perfect  knowledge  that  their  interference  would  be 
useless.  Such  was  the  picture  of  Ireland,  presented  to  him  on  the 
first  authority. 

Tickler.  But  England  — 

North.  I  was  coming  to  it.  The  feeling  of  England  is,  I  know, 
firmly  Protestant,  but  we  must  all  take  the  coloring  of  our  ideas 

*  Korth  was  correct  in  thit  •Utement.  George  TV.  most  relnctantly  yielded  his  consent  to 
tbe  iotrodaction  of  the  Catholic  Re.ief  Bill  In  i»20.  Not  until  Wellington  and  Peel  had  re- 
signed office,  telling  him  that,  if  aciTil  war  ensued  in  Ireland,  the  responsibilitr  would  attack 
to  Am  and  not  to  tAeoi,  did  he  submit  to  what  he  considered  a  fatal  nroessity.  Horace  Twias't 
LLCs  of  Lord  Sidon  throws  much  light  on  the  STents  of  this  orisis.~M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


824  NOCTTBS  AKBROBIANiB. 

from  the  circles  ^ith  which  we  mix.  Here,  then,  he  saw  the  seven 
men  who  were  selected  by  himself  as  the  very  heads  of  the  Pro- 
testant party,  firmly  united  in  declaring,  that  the  time  for  passing 
this  atrocious  measure  had  come — he  saw  that  all  his  own  domestic 
court  were  of  the  same  opinion — the  House  of  Commons — faithful 
representatives  of  the  people!  were  favorable  by  an  immense 
majority — the  House  of  Lords  went  the  same  way — the  Sumners, 
Copplestones,  Ryders,  Rnoxes,  Parkers,  and  other  disgraces  of  the 
church,  openly  supported  the  Popish  claims — many  others,  Blom- 
field,*  for  example,  doing  the  same  indirectly.  Is  it  quite  fair  to 
expect,  that  the  King  was  to  oppose  all  this  weight  alone  ?  Sir,  you 
are  hard  upon  a  man  at  his  years,  fast  approaching  the  term  allot- 
ted by  the  Psalmist  for  human  life. 

Tickler.  North — North — 1  shall  not  say  a  word  against  the  King 
— what  1  feel  shall  die  here,  in  this  heart,  but  it  is  evident  that  you 
are  ratting — yes,  you,  Christopher. 

North,  Nay,  do  not  bend  those  swarthy  brows  on  me.  I  protest 
to  heaven  you  are  as  bad  as  the  Quarterly. 

Shepherd.  Ha !  ha !  ha !  Mr.  North  a  rotton ! ! !  Who'd  believe 
that  ? 

North.  Shepherd,  though  I  am  happy  to  see  you  at  my  table,  I 
shall  never  think  of  regulating  my  politics  by  the  standard  of  Mount 
Benger.     No,  Tickler,  1  am  not  a  rat. 

Odoherty,  It  must  be  confessed  that  you  are  somewhat  like, 
Christopher.  Here — you  have  already  to-night  defended  the  Duke 
of  Wellington's  conduct,  and  are  now  most  uproarious  in  pane- 
gyrizing the  King,  for  consenting  to  a  measure  which  you  say  that 
both  you  and  he  disapproved. 

North.  Morgan,  1  bear  with  many  things  from  you.  I  say  again  and 
again,  that  1  was  all  along  against  the  measure,  that  I  would  have 
voted  against  it,  and  spoken  against  it,  as  vehemently  as  I  wrote 
against  it,  and  as  1  shall  continue  to  write  against  it.  I  was  only  ac> 
counting  for  the  conduct  of  persons,  one  of  whom  I  idolized,  and  for 
the  other  of  whom  I  feel  the  true  constitutional  affection  and  reapect. 
I  own  that  I  cannot  divine  the  motives  which  induced  the  Duke  to 
change. 

Odoherty.  As  for  the  rubbish  about  Irish  insurrections — that's  all 
my  eye.  Jack  Lawless's  march  upon  Bally  bog,  where  my  friend 
Sam  Gray,  with  forty  honest  fellows,  made  him  run  for  his  life  at 
the  head  of  his  raganuifiins — a  cabin  burnt  in  Tipperary — a  proctor 
shot  in  Killballyniurrahoomore — tell  these  stories  to  the  marines. 
Zounds,  man,  that's  the  everyday  pastime  of  Ireland, — I'd  not  know 
the  country  if  it  was  not  going  on — it  would  look  quite  cold  and 
comfortless. 

TickUr.  And  the  Association  !     A  file  of  grenadiers  would  have 


Digitized  by 


Google 


CATHOLIC   BELIEF  BILL..  825 

dispersed  that  beggarly  knot — a  line  of  an  act  of  parliament  would 
have  extinguished  them.  Do  not  tell  me,  who  remember  the  sup- 
pression of  the  Corresponding  Societies,  and  other  Jacobin  Clubs, 
consisting  as  they  did  of  men  of  high  aspirations  and  great  talents, 
backed  by  the  living  and  tremendous  force  of  the  whole  Jacobin 
power,  the  victorious  Jacobin  power,  of  Europe.  And  they  were 
put  down  in  the  middle  of  the  most  desperate  struggle  Old  England 
ever  was  engaged  in.  And  do  you  tell  me  about  these  beggarly 
Irish  loons — headed  by  boobies — backed  by  booi*s  with  no  intellect 
at  all — nothing  but  a  few  noisy  tropes — and  no  rank  or  wealth  but 
what  had  been  frightened  among  them — do  you  tell  me  that  these 
ftjllows — whose  Foxes  and  Greys  were  but  the  O'Connells  and  the 
Shells — whose  Mackintoshes  and  Geralds  were  but  the  Lawlesses 
and  the  O'Gorman  Mahons — whose  foreign  strength!  was  not  tri- 
umphant France,  and  trembling  monarchy  all  over  the  world,  but 
some  handfuls  of  beaten,  trampled,  crouching,  slavish  carbonari  I 
Do  you  tell  me  of  this,  sir?  No,  sir;  at  all  events,  the  Man  of 
Waterloo  could  not  have  believed  this. 

North,  Probably  not — I  have  admitted  that  his  conduct  is  a 
mystery  to  me  up  to  this  hour.  But  if  I  were  to  make  a  guess,  I  con- 
fess I  should  rather  incline  to  the  theory  of  those,  who  are  not  few 
nor  unweighty  neither,  though  they  don't  put  out  their  views  in  the 
newspapers, — who  believe  that  Prince  Lievin  could  give  a  more 
satisfactory  solution  of  this  knot  than  any  other  man  now  in  Eng- 
land,  the  Duke  (done  excepted.  For  really,  except  the  Duke,  and 
probably  Sir  George  Murray,  I  don't  suppose  the  members  oif  the 
rat-cabinet  ever  knew  why  they  were  ratting — 1  mean  the  causa 
causans.  They  ratted — 1  mean  Peel,  Bathurst,  and  so  forth — merely 
to  keep  their  places — I  suppose  that  you  will  excuse  any  details  as 
to  the  Chancellor's  case. 

Odoherty,  My  friends  in  the  Standard  suggest  that  the  Duke  has 
the  design  of  making  himself  Dictator,  and  that  this  measure  was 
carried  with  that  view.* 

North,  I  think  he  would  have  had  a  better  chance  of  obtaining 
such  an  end  by  putting  himself  at  the  head  of  the  Protestant 
interest. 

Tickler,  No— the  Protestants  were  Tory,  and  therefore  loyal — 
no  tools  for  a  Cromwell.  I  have  seen  a  little  pamphlet  addressed 
to  the  King,  in  which  a  very  plausible  case  was  made  out. 

*  The  Torj  p«pen  afieotad  to  beliere  thai  the  Duke  of  Wellin^n  reallj  had  ench  inten- 
tions. One  of  them  (the  Morning  Journal.)  which  said  that  he  was  going  to  marry  his  son, 
the  Marquii  of  Douro— the  present  Dake — to  the  Princess  Victona,  who  was  then  only  ten 

J  ears  old,  was  prosecnted  for  libel  and  conTicted.  with  fine  and  imprisonment  for  Mr.  Alexan- 
er.  the  editor.  One  need  not  go  for  for  a  reason  why  Emancipation  was  conceded  :— if  refused 
any  longer,  espec'ally  after  O'Connell  had  been  elected  for  Ciarei  the  chance  was  that  Ireland 
would  have  risenjn  open  rebellion.  The  Dake  avowed  that  he  had  seen  so  much  of  war  as  to 
make  him  averse  U^  the  horrors  A*  domeatio  oonflicts.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


826  K00TE8   AMBBOBIAN^ 

Shepherd.  Is  there  no  an  auld  prophecy  aboot  it? 
li/orth.  Yes,  on  the  tomb  of  Arthur  at  Tintagel — 

*'  HiC   JACET   ArTHURUS,    REX    QUONDAM   REXQUE   FUTURUS  ;^ 

but  we  are  not  come  to  that  yet.  But  it  is  evident,  at  all  events, 
that  he  is  King  of  the  Ministry. 

Odoherty.  The  Ministry  ! — the  slaves ! — I'd  like  to  see  them 
budge  without  his  orders.     {Sings.) 

When  the  heart  of  a  rat  is  oppressed  with  caret, 
The  mist  is  dispell'd  when  the  Dulse  appears — 
With  the  fist  of  a  master  he  Deadly,  neatly 
Pulls  all  their  noses  and  clouts  their  ears. 
Places  and  wages  his  hands  disclose, 
But  his  rough  toe  is  more  harsh  than  those — 
Soeaking 
And  quaking, 
Go  snufSe 
And  shuffle, 
Or  else  sink,  like  Husky,*  to  black  repose. 

And  is  it  not  as  it  ought  to  be  1  By  Jupiter  and  all  the  gods, 
nothing  would  give  me  more  delight  than  to  see  the  whole  of  the 
servum  pecus — the  ragabash  rascals,  who  sham  being  ministers — 
tied  up,  some  fine  morning,  in  front  of  the  Horse  Guards  and 
whipt. 

Tickler.  I  never  asked  for  a  place  under  Government  yet — and  I 
have  no  love  for  the  present  Government,  that  I  should  break  my 
rule;  but  if  I  thought  there  was  any  chance  of  that  consummation, 
I  should  send  in  a  most  humble  petition  for  the  post  of  Provost- 
Marshal. 

North,  There  is  no  doubt  wo  have  now  a  United  Government. 
I  should  like  to  see  them  disunite !  Imagine  Peel  taking  a  view  of 
the  subject,  unfortunately,  but  most  conscientiously,  different  from 
that  of  his  noble  friend — his  illustrious  friend  at  the  head  of  his 
Majesty's  Government.  Imagine  the  Right  Hon.  John  Singleton 
Baron  Lyndhurst  having  the  ill-luck  to  differ  in  opinion  from  the 
Most  Noble  Arthur  by  royal  permission. 

Odohertt/y  {sings.)        In  England  rules  King  Arthur, 
In  Ireland  rules  King  Dan  ; 
King  George  of  Windsor  Castle, 
Dethrone  them  if  you  can. 

Come,  gentlemen,  there's  your  chorus,  sing  on. 

*  Huskinon,  who  had  been  dismined  from  the  Ministrj  in  18^,  on  the  Duke'f  tdcmg  (or 
pretending  to  tftke)  u  a  real  what  was  meant  for  only  a  mock  resignation  of  offioe.— M 


Digitized  by 


Google 


KING  AI2TUUB  AND  KING  DAN. 


827 


Tickler,  {sings.) 


Shepherd,  {sings,) 


North,  {sings.) 


Tickler,  {sings.) 


Odoherttf,  {sings.) 


North,  {sings.) 


Omnes,  {chortis.) 


King  George  of  Wiodsor  Castle, 

And  eke  of  Pinilioo, 
Atteod  uoto  thy  Tickler, 

And  he  the  truth  will  show. 

Chorus :  lu  Eoglaod,  Aq. 

The  crown,  sir,  and  the  sceptre, 
They  make  a  bonny  show ; 

But  the  helmet  and  the  claymore 
Can  stand  and  give  the  blow. 

Chorus  :  Li  England,  <to. 

Up,  royal  heart  of  Brunswick, 
Glow,  blood  of  lions,  glow ; 

To  see  the  Jackal  hunted 
Fills  many  a  heart  with  woe. 

Chorus :  In  England,  Ac 

Though  age  my  back  be  bending. 
Though  my  hair  be  like  the  snow. 

Mount,  mouot  thy  father's  charger — 
And  with  thee  I  still  will  go. 

Chorus :  In  England,  Ae, 

Though  a  wife  Fve  lately  wedded, 

And  got  a  child  or  so ; 
Pm  yours  for  active  service, 

John  Anderson,  ray  joe. 

Chorus :  In  England,  Ae. 

If  Kiog  and  Elirk  were  striving, 

rd  have  you  for  to  koow, 
As  dead  as  Dutchman's  herring 
This  crutch  should  sti-ike  the  foe. 

In  England  rules  King  Arthur, 
In  Ireland  rules  King  Dan  ; 

King  George  of  Windsor  Castle, 
Dethrone  them,  if  you  caa 


Shepherd.  Wake,  Mr.  Edrehi — od,  the  auld  beardie  is  saft  asleep. 
V\\  e'en  set  fire  to  his  beard. 

{Takes  the  candle.     2'he  Rahhi  wakes  on  the  eve  of  a  conflagra- 
tion.) 
Moses  Edrehi.  Oh !  Abraham,  Izaak,  and  Gacoub ! — scuse  me, 
sare,  I  dreamd  I  vas  goin  to  be  burnt  mit  Mendez  Dacosta  in  a 
painted  tub.     God  keep  us  ! 

Shepherd.  Ou,  ye  auld  Philistine,  and  ye  wad  be  sma'  loss.  Here, 
lean  on  my  arm,  and  tak  care  no  to  break  yer  auld  nose. 

{Curtain  falls.) 


Digitized  by 


Google 


838 


HOCTfiS   AMBKOSIAHiS. 


NO.  XLV.— JULY,  1829. 


Mb.  Muluoic 


Sot  M.  Odobsbtt. 


Tickler.  Gentlemen,  attend  to  the  carte.  There's  hotch-potch 
here,  and  turtle  by  the  Shepherd.  In  the  centre  of  the  table,  punch 
d  la  Trongate.  Sherry  and  Madeira  are  Hogg's  wheelers — Vin  de 
Grave  and  Johannisberg,  both  thoroughly  cooled,  are  mine — the 
whisky  on  the  sideboard — and  now  to  dinner  with  what  appetites 
ye  may ! 

Odoherty,  Mullion,  a  glass  of  something  ? — punch  1 
Tickler,  Mr.  Theodore,  may  I  have  the  pleasure  of  taking  a  glass 
cf  punch  with  you? 


Digitized  by 


Google 


▲T  DINKEB.  829 

Theodore.  Volontiers — ha !  and  this  is  the  right  Glasgow  ?* 

Macrabin,  Hoggi 

Shepherd,  Please  yoursel',  Pll  stick  to  the  Madeira.  Yon's 
ower  cauld  for  my  stamach  at  this  time  o'  day.  Now  the  turtle's 
done,  is  there  ony  law  against  a  soup  of  the  hotch-potch,  Mr.  Theo- 
dore? 

Theodore.  Hotch-potch  and  turtle  are  exceptions  to  all  rules.  1*11 
trouble  Mr.  Tickler  for  another  specimen  of  his  excellent  article ; 
and  then,  my  dear  Mr.  Hogg,  you  shall  command  my  attention. 
Waiter !  a  tumbler — punch ! — higher,  if  you  please,  sir — there ! 

Tickler.  Ambrose,  remove.  {Enter  second  course.) — Grentlemen, 
here's  a  salmon  frae  aboon  Peebles — and  there's  a  turbot  from  off 
Fastcastle,  alias  Wolf's  Crag. 

Odoherty.  Mr.  Hogg,  may  I  trouble  you  for  a  small  parallelo- 
gram 1 — some  of  the  fin,  if  you  please.     Theodore,  a  glass  of  hock  ? 

Theodore.  Waiter,  punch,  there  ! — Hoc  erat  in  votie.  Your  health, 
Sir  Morgan. 

Shepherd,  Haund  round  the  jug.  Od !  it's  pleasant  now,  aboon 
the  tway  soops  an'  the  cut  o'  sawmon.  There,  callant,  up  to  my 
thumb  again.     I  think  ye  may  be  remoovin*,  Mr.  Awmbrose. 

{Enter  third  course.) 

Tickler.  What  now  ? — aye,  there's  a  sheep's  head  frae  Yarrow, 
thanks  to  our  Shepherd ;  and  here,  as  I  am  a  Christian  Tory,  here's 
a  boar's  head, — gift  of  old  Goethe  to  our  friend  North,  whose  ab- 
sence we  all  regret  on  this  occasion.  Mr.  Theodore,  shall  I  help 
youl 

Theodore.  If  you  please.  O !  my  dear  sir — Forgive  me — from 
the  centre  of  the  ear  to  the  centre  of  the  lip — Uiere  now,  exactly — 
a  thousand  pardons— delicious — it's  mighty  nice  ! 

Afaerabin.  The  ear  and  the  eye,  and  as  much  of  the  cheek  as  you 
please,  Hogg.     Boar's  head  indeed !     Nothing  like  the  tup.f 

*  It  may  appear  strange  to  take  punch  at  dinner,  bnt  Glaagow  punch  ii  alvajt  eoli,  and 
may  be  drank  via  «  vis  with  wine.    In  the  East  Indies,  it  is  ordinary  table-practice  to  take  % 

flass  of  Bass  or  Almp  (pale  ale,)  when  wine  would  be  the  liquor  in  England.    As  Linkum 
idelis  says,  **  Circumstances  alter  oases." — M. 

f  TVp,— a  ram.  Sheep's  head  makes  one  of  the  best  and  faTorite  broths,  or  soups,  of  the 
Scotch.  When  I  lived  in  Scotland,  one  of  my  senrants  came  in  for  "  twa  bawbies  for  the 
blacksmith."  On  inquiry,  she  said  "  I  am  ganging  to  the  smith  with  my  head  to  be  singed.** 
It  turned  out  that  the  hoaid  of  the  sheep  or  tup  roust  have  the  hair  or  wool  burnt  off  with  a  red- 
hot  iron,  and  this  is  done  by  a  blacksmith.  The  outer  skin,  so  burnt,  has  a  very  dork  appear- 
ance after  it  is  boiled  (an  operation  which  is  continued  until  the  integument  becomes  almost 
f  elatinons.)  but  the  dish  is  one  which  even  an  epicure  might  delight  in.  The  best  printed 
receipt  for  dressing  it  is  in  Meg  Dod's  Cookery,  —I  itay,  the  best  receipt  printed^  as  I  have  a  better, 
which  I  reserve  for  a  Cookery  Book  I  intend  to  write,  with  anecdotes,  memoirs,  and  recollections 
of  eminent  dinner-givers,  and  dinner-eaters,  and  dinner-dressers.  It  ought  to  be  an  amusing 
Tolume.  Scottish  cookery,  by  the  way,  is  quite  of  the  French  school,  which  it  owes  to  Mary 
Q.ueen  of  Scots  bringing  over  several  French  euiuinierg  when  she  returned  to  Scotland.  It 
includes  a  variety  of  soups— always  called  broths  North  of  the  Tweed.  When  we  were  engaging 
the  above  mentioned  heroine  of  the  sheep's  head,  we  referred  to  her  last  employer  as  to  her 
qualifications  as  a  cook,  and  were  answered,  **Deed,  I  canna  say  muokle  anent  Barbara,  as  a 
eook,  puir  thing !  but  she'll  mak'  yon  a  pretty  broth."— Like  all  Scotch  servants  whom  I  have 
met  she  was  traity,  faithful,  good-tempered,  but  would  have  her  own  way.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


330  N0CTE8   AHBR08IANA 

Shepherd,  T\ill  you  hae  a  Trotter  1 

Macrahin.  D the  Trotters —  Vin  de  Orave^  Timotheus  I 

Tickler,  Imo,  Very  fair  indeed,  Ambrose.  But,  gentlemen,  I 
believe  we  are  omitting  a  customary  libation.  Now,  remove  the 
boar's  head,  and  carry  round  the  champagne.     Goethe's  health  ! 

(  Three  times  three,) 

Theodore,  !Do  you  drink  people's  healths  at  this  hour  of  the  day, 
in  the  North?  - 

Macrabin.  Yes — ^yes.  I  drink  whenever  I  can  get  it — and  what- 
ever and  wherever.  This  green  goose  looks  charmingly  ;-^ut  right 
down,  Hogg ;  smash  through  everything. 

Theodore,  I'll  trouble  you  for  a  pea,  waiter.  O  Jupiter  I  O 
Jupiter ! 

Mullion,  What's  the  matter?  What's  the  matter?  For  hea- 
ven's sake,  waiter,  a  bottle  of  cold  water — quick ! 

Theodore^  {aside  to  Mullion.)  Never  mind — poh — poh — 'tis 
past,  I  breathe  again.  It  was  only  a  qualm  that  came  over  me — Mr. 
Hogg  eating  peas  with  his  knife  !* 

Mullion,  ify  dear  sir,  as  Mephistophiles  says  to  Faust,  when  the 
red  mouse  leaps  into  the  lad>*s  mouth  at  the  Brocken  ball,  "Do  not 
let  such  trifles  disturb  the  tranquillity  of  your  future  hour." 

Shepherd,  A  glass  o'  something,  Macrabin  ? 

Macrabin,  A  gallon  of  anything.  Come,  Ambrose,  another  bottle 
of  Charley  Wrightf 

Shepherd,  Never  mind  him,  Awmrose ;  the  Advocate  maun  hae 
his  joke. 

Tickler,  Now  for  the  Stilton.  {Enter  fourth  course,)  Gentle- 
men, I  can  recommend  my  host's  ale,J  as  second  to  nothing  in  Leith, 
alias,  in  the  world. 

Macrabin,  I  prefer  a  glass  of  port,|  after  the  manner  of  the  an- 
cients.     No  offence,  Mr.  Theodore  ? 

Theodore.  Waiter,  I'll  trouble  you  for  a  tumbler.  The  Vin  de 
Grave — there  now,  hold.  Now  the  Seltzer  water !  In  point  of  fact, 
if  you  ask  mc,  1  say,  decidedly^  water  after  red  cheese.  Still  cham- 
pagne after  white — that  is,  if  you  commit  the  atrocity  of  eating  any 
cheese  at  all — which  I  have  not  been  guilty  of. 

*  Theodore  Hook,  yrho  -wni  founder  of  the  SiWer-fork  School  of  Society  (in  norels,)  re&lljdid 
not  indulge  in  any  afiectation  -when  at  table,  where  he  waa  genial,  hearty,  and  at  his  ease. 
The  idea  of  asking  for  a  pea  was  suggested,  no  doubt,  by  an  anecdote  of  which  the  celebrated 
Beau  Brummeli  was  the  hero.  Borne  one  asked  -whether  he  was  fond  of  vegetablen.  BrammeU 
paused,  as  if  to  reflect,  and  then  drawled  out,  **  I— a-think— that— I-a— once — efc-a-p«a.— M. 

t  In  those  days,  Charles  Wright's  champagne  was  celebrated  for — increasing  the  consumption 
of  gooseberries  I— M. 

X  When  that  foppish  regiment,  the  Tenth  Hussars,  was  quartered  in  Dublin,  (in  1823-4,) 
there  was  a  discussion  at  the  mess-table,  whether  one  of  the  officers  might  many  a  beautiful 
young  woman,  of  high  family  and  large  fortune.  The  veto  was  unanimous,  when  a  Cornet, 
about  sixteen  years  old.  lisped  out  "She  malts"— She  kad  taken  a  glass  of  ale  !— M. 

II  Brummeli  was  asked  whether  he  Uked  Port.— '*  Port  ?"  said  he,  *•  Port  ?— Aye,  I  raooUect 
now:  a  black  intoxicating  fluid  drank  by  the  lower  orders.''— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


"OHTJKOH  AND   STATE."  331 

Shepherd.  That's  the  real  thing.  Now,  hand  round  the  crewets, 
Awmrose.  I  maun  hae  a  thimblefu'  of  the  Glenlivet,  just  to  put 
the  neb  on  your  yill. 

Tickler,  The  whisky — clear  the  decks. 

Ambrose^  (aside  to  Tickler.)  What  wines  shall  we  put  on,  sir  I 

Tickler^  {aside  to  Ambrose.)  Let  me  see.  Some  of  that  Sherry 
of  Cockbum's^ — the  48,  I  mean — some  of  Brougham's  Madeira  * — 
the  green  seal — port — let  us  have  Cay's  twelve — and  as  for  Qaret, 
why,  you  had  as  well  send  in  two  or  three  bottles  of  different  or- 
ders, before  we  fix  for  the  evening. 

Odoherty,  (aside  to  Ambrose.)  Begin  with  Sam's  nineteen  A 

(Air — Non  Nobis,) 

Tickler.  Gentlemen,  will  you  have  the  goodness  to  fill  your  glasses  ? 
— the  King,  God  bless  him  ! 

Omnes.  The  King — (three  times  three,) 

(Air — God  save  the  King,) 

Tickler,  Grentleraen,  charge  your  glasses.  A*  bumper.  The 
Kirk. 

Omnes.    The  Kirk — (four  times  four.) 

(Air — Bonnie  lassie,  Highland  lassie,) 

Tickler.  Gentlemen,  we  have  drank  his  Majesty  the  King,  with 
the  usual  honors,  marking  our  high  estimation  of  his  personal  resist- 
ance during  the  late  awful  and  fatal  struggle — our  respect  for  the 
rank  which  he  still  holds  in  our  native  country,  and  which,  in  the 
hands  of  a  virtuous  man,  may  still  afford  the  means  of  considerable 
good — and  finally,  our  hope  that  George  the  Fourth  may  be  allowed 
to  descend  into  the  tomb  of  George  the  Third,  without  witnessing 
with  his  own  eyes  the  full  completion  of  the  overthrow  which  he 
has  been  compelled — we  all  know  how  cruelly — to  lend  his  hand 
to.J  Gentlemen,  we  have  also  drank  the  Kirk,  (by  which,  in  this 
room,  the  two  established  Protestant  Churches  of  these  kingdoms 
have  always  been  meant,)  marking  our  undiminished  reverence  for 
Institutions,  which,  in  spite  of  external  hostility  and  internal  treason, 
must  and  shall  continue  to  possess  great  and  beneficial  influence. 
They  have  destroyed  the  union  of  Church  and  State,  gentlemen ; 
but,  in  my  humble  opinion,  and  1  rather  think  in  yours,  the  State 
has  lost  more  by  this  atrocious  separation  than  the  Church.  She, 
gentlemen,  flourishes  still — or,  if  a  Winter  has  cropt  the  leaves, 
there  is  a  bonny  Spring  in  reserve  for  her.     But  the  State ! — alas  I 

*  John  BrOQffham,  brother  to  the  Chancellor,  had  been  a  partner  in  the  wine  bnainen  in 
Bdinburgh.—M. 

f  Sam  was  Samuel  Anderson,  a  wine  merchant  in  Edinbnrfrh,  and  afterwards,  bjr  Lord 
Brongham's  kindness,  appointed  to  the  Incratire  Registrarship  of  the  English  Court  of  Chan- 
eery.  **  Registrar  Sam^  appears,  as  an  interlocutor,  at  one  of  the  Noctes  in  rol  t.  of  this 
edition.— M. 

1  The  enactment  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Relief  Bill,  which  reoeiTcd  the  Royal  aseent  on 
April  13,  l&O.—U. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


NOGTES  AMBB08JA3SM. 

alas !  I  fear  the  Spring  that  brings  back  her  Summer  will  be  a — 
bloody  one.  Gentlemen,  every  hour  brings  new  confirmation  to  the 
'  view  which  I  took,  from  the  beginning,  of  the  inevitable  oonse- 
quences.  Let  me  now  propose  a  bumper,  and  therewith  a  toast,  to 
be  drunk  standing,  and  in  silence.  Gentlemen,  I  beg  leave  to  drink 
the  Immortal  memory  of  the  BritUh  Constitution, 

Omnes,  The  immortal  memory  of  the  British  Constitution  ! 

(Air — Auld  Lang  syne.) 

Shepherd,  The  bizziness  has  certainly  made  on  awfu'  sensation  a* 
through  the  South  country.  Even  Manor  Water,  I  hear,  was  in  a 
perfect  lowe. 

Odoherty,  (aside.)  A  bull,  by-the-by. 

Shepherd.  As  to  the  Selkirk  folk,  they're  neither  to  baud  nor  to 
bin' !    The  hail  of  Yarrow  wad  rise  at  a  whistle  the  mom,  I  believe. 

Theodore.  You  astonish  me.  Upon  my  soul,  the  London  folks 
take  things  much  more  coolly.  Notwithstanding  all  the  pother  in 
the  Sunday  papers,  and  all  that  raff,  depend  upon  it,  Uie  Popery  bill 
passed  without  exciting  half  the  sensation  with  any  one  of  a  dozen 
bits  of  mere  scandal,  recently,  which  I  could  mention.  Take  Wel- 
lesley  Pole's  case,  for  example— or  even  my  Lady  Ellenborough's — 
or  even  that  puppy,  Tom  Peel's.  1  assure  you,  sir,  the  downfall  of 
the  Constitution  was  nothing  to  the  downfall  of  Rowland  Stephen- 
son,* sir, — as  Lord  Alvanley  said  to  me 

Macrabin.  The  Constitution,  indeed !  what  should  that  be  to  the 
London  people  1  Don't  we  all  know  that  the  capital  has  long  since 
ceased  to  have  almost  any  sympathy  with  the  body  of  the  nation  1 

Theodore^  {aside.)  That's  a  rum  one.     Hear  the  villagers! 

Tickler.  To  confess  the  truth,  our  great  Babylon  seems  to  me  to 
be  striding  fast  into  another  Paris.  The  thing  has  been  going  on 
for  a  long  time— even  for  centuries — but  I  apprehend  never  at  so 

♦  WellesUy  Pole,  nephev  of  th«  Duke  of  Wellington,  U  now  Earl  of  Moniinfi:toii.  The 
OM*  alluded  to  was  one  of  Crim.  Con.  with  Mn.  Bligh:  he  afterwards  married  her,  and  ao 
much  neglected  her  that  she  has  frequently  been  compelled  to  apply  to  the  parish  and  the 

E)lice  magistrate  for  means  ot  common  subsistence. — The  present  £arl  of  Ellenborough  (the 
ong  Ned  Pepper  of  **  Paul  Clifford,")  had  a  daughter  of  Admiral  Digby  for  his  second  wife, 
and,  having  obtained  a  verdict,  with  heavy  damages,  against  Prince  Schwartzenberg,  (late  Prim« 
Minister  of  Austria.)  for  having  seduced  this  lady,  applied  to  Parliament  for  a  divorce.  The 
public  wore  edified,  during  several  weeks,  by  the  pubiicaiion  in  tno  London  papers  of  all  the 
evidence, — caricaturists  drew  pictures  of  the  Prince  lacing  the  lady's  stays,  which  was  one  of 
the  proofs, — the  Lordd  passed  the  Bill, — Lord  Ellenborough  was  unpopular,  and  the  Commou 
refuted  their  sanction  to  the  divorce. — Tom  Peel's  "  scandal"  was  a  different  one.  He  was  a 
relation  of  Sir  Robert  Peel's,  and  wished  to  emigrate.  A  grant  of  land  in  Australia  was  given 
hiro,  with  which  he  founded  the  Swan  Biver  Settlement,  where  he  expended  a  large  for^ 
tune.  There  were  no  grounds  for  blaming  Sir  Robert  Peel  for  the  grant  to  his  cousin,  as  it 
really  was  an  object,  at  that  time,  to  induce  wealthy  persons  to  go  to  Australia.  No  man  ao 
little  indulged  in  nepotism  as  Peel. — Rowland  Stephenson'*  was  a  curious  case.  He  was  a 
London  banker.  His  mansging  man  persuaded  him  that  he  was  ruined,  and  induced  him  to 
escape,  with  large  funds,  to  the  United  States.  When  they  arrived  here,  the  clerk  ran  off  with 
'*  the  plunder,"  and  left  Stephenson  nearly  pennyless.  The  end  of  the  affair  was  remarkabla. 
V^hen  Stephenson's  business  was  wound  up,  in  London,  it  appeared  that  every  creditor  would 
be  paid  in  full,  with  a  surplus  to  Stephenson  !— The  fiist  Railway  Company  in  British  India 
was  ornnized  by  his  son,  R.  Maodonald  Stephenson,  a  man  of  ability,  eatarpriae  and  pro> 


Digitized  by 


Google 


TOWN   AND  COUNTRY.  88S 

rapid  a  rate,  by  fifty  per  cent,  as  during  the  last  twenty  or  thirty 
years.  The  nobility  of  Great  Britain,  and  the  upper  gentry,  at  least 
the  gentry  composing  commonly  the  Lower  House  of  Parliament, 
— appear  latterly,  to  be  doing  everything  in  their  power,  to  cut  off 
the  old  strings,  that  used  in  better  days,  to  connect  them  with  the 
people  at  laree.     Only  consider  the  life  these  fine  folks  lead. 

Theodori.  Why,  I  don't  know  how  you  could  prevent  people 
from  living  half  the  year  in  town. 

Tickler,  I  have  no  objections  to  their  living  half  the  year  in  town, 
as  you  call  it,  if  they  can  live  in  such  a  hell  upon  earth,  of  dust, 
noise,  and  misery.  Only  think  of  the  Dolphin  water  in  the  solar 
microscope ! 

Theodore,  I  know  nothing  of  the  water  of  London  personally. 

Odoherty,  Nor  I ;  but  I  take  it,  we  both  have  a  notion  of  its 
brandy  and  water. 

Tickler,  'Tis,  in  fact,  their  duty  to  be  a  good  deal  in  London. 
But  I'll  tell  you  what  I  do  object  to,  and  what  I  rather  think  are 
evils  of  modern  date,  or  at  any  rate  of  very  rapid  recent  growth. 
First,  1  object  to  their  living  those  months  of  the  year  in  which  it  is 
contra  bonos  mores  to  be  in  London,  not  in  their  paternal  mansions, 
but  at  those  little  bastardly  abortionists,  which  they  call  watering- 
places — their  Leamingtons,  their  Cbeltenhams,  their  Brighthelm- 
stones. 

Theodore,  Brighton,  my  dear  rustic,  Brighton  I 

Odoherty.  Syncopic^. 

Shepherd,  What's  your  wull.  Sir  Morgan  !  It  does  no  staun  wi' 
me. 

Theodore.  A  horrid  spot,  certainly — but  possessing  large  conve 
niencies,  sir,  for  particular  purposes.  For  example,  sir,  the  balcony 
on  the  drawing-room  floor  commonly  runs  on  the  same  level  all 
round  the  square — which  in  the  Brighthelmstonic  dialect,  sir,  means 
a  three-sided  figure.     The  advantage  is  obvious. 

Shepherd.  Och,  sirs  !  och,  sirs !  what  wull  this  world  come  to  ! 

Theodore.  The  truth  is,  sir,  that  people  comme  il  faut  cannot  well 
submit  to  the  total  change  of  society  and  manners  implied  in  a  re- 
moval from  Whitehall  or  Mayfair  to  some  absurd  old  antediluvian 
chateau,  sir,  boxed  up  among  beeches  and  rooks.  Sir,  only  think  of 
the  small  Squires  with  the  red  faces,  sir,  and  the  grand  white  waist- 
coats down  to  their  hips — and  the  Dames,  sir,  with  their  wigs,  and 
their  siiupers,  and  their  visible  pockets — and  the  Damsels,  blushing 
things  in  white  muslin,  with  sky-blue  sashes  and  ribbons,  and  muf- 
flers and  things — and  the  Sons,  sir,  the  promising  young  gentlemen, 
sir — and  the  Doctor,  and  the  Lawyer— and  last,  not  least  in  horrifi- 
cation,  the  Parson. 

Tickler.  The  Parson  was  not  counted  a  bore  in  the  better  days  of 


Digitized  by 


Google 


834  NOOTE8   AHBB06IANJE. 

John  Bull,  when  that  honest  old  fellow  wore  a  blue  ooat  and  leather 
breeches,  and  fumbled  with  the  head  of  his  stick  whenever  he  saw 
two  of  his  neighbors  quarreling. 

Macrahin.  Fuimus  Troes. 

Theodore.  Fuimus  Tories,  indeed  1  Ah!  my  dear  fellow,  we  had 
no  Philipottos  in  those  days.*     This  claret  is  mighty  nice. 

Tickler,  Confound  the  Cockneys.  If  any  one  remained  uncon- 
verted, surely  the  late  puffing  and  blowing  in  the  Times  about  the 
projected  enclosure  of  a  corner  of  fiampstead  Heath  must  have  done 
his  business.  O  Jupiter !  what  a  row  about  the  plaster-fiend  making 
a  lodgment  in  the  half-mountain  region. 

Shepherd,  I  wonner  what's  a  hail  mountain  wi'  them. 

Odoherty,  Harrow,  I  suppose— or  rather  the  Devil's  Dyke  at 
Brighton — an  Alpine  precipice,  Hogg,  such  as  you  would  make 
nothing  of  going  down  at  the  hand  gallop,  with  Wallace  and  Clavers 
before  you. 

Tickler,  This  Times  Cockney  talks  of  all  England  rising  in  rebel- 
lion at  the  invasion  of  Hampstead  Heath.f  1  suppose  we  shall  then 
have  the  Cockney  Melodies,  Hunt,  of  course,  being  the  Tyrtaeus. 

Shepherd.  O,  dinna  blaspheme  the  dead  !  That  puir  man's  cauld 
in  bis  grave  lang  or  now. 

Odoherty,  Leigh  Hunt  in  his  grave  !  Then  he's  the  most  comfort- 
able ghost  1  ever  heard  of;  for  Theodore  and  1  saw  him  not  a  week 
ago  taking  a  shove  in  the  mouth  at  old  Mother  Murly*s  in  St.  Mar- 
tin's Lane,  with  two  or  three  underlings  of  the  gallery  J  about  him — all 
in  his  glory  ;  and  pretty  well  he  looked,  didn't  he  1 

Theodore,  You  have  made  some  mistake,  Sir  Morgan;  I  was  not 
present,  sir — not  I,  indeed.  So  you  disapprove  of  Brighton,  Mr 
Tickler  1 

Tickler,  Brighthelmstone,  when  I  knew  it,  was  a  pleasant  fishing 
village|| — what  like  it  is  now  I  know  not;  but  what  I  detest  in  the 

•  Dr.  Henry  Phillpotte,  then  Rector  of  Stanhope,  was  appointed  Bishop  of  Exeter  in  1830. — 
The  annaal  income  of  this  biihopric  ii  comparatively  amull — £27U0  a  year,  'while  most  of 
the  others  amount  to  £4000  a  year.  It  is  usual  to  allow  a  Bmhop  to  hold  another  preferment 
in  eommnidftm  with  his  see.  When  Phillpotu  waj  appointed,  bv  tJie  Duke  of  Wellington,  it 
was  af^reed  that  he  should  continue  to  hold  the  rectory  of  Stanhope,  worth  £4000  a  year,  in 
commendam  with  the  see  of  Exeter.  Phillpolta,  as  a  Tory  pamphleteer,  had  written  many 
sharp  thinjjs  about  and  against  the  Whigs.  The  Duke  of  Wellington  unexpectedly  quitted 
ofhce,  (November  16,  l'<Kl,)  before  the  necesnory  documents  were  completed.    The  Whips  cam^ 


in  and  refused  to  sanction  the  arrangement,  (a  deiuonptraiion  of  iselty  personal  spleen  for 
which  even  most  of  his  own  party  much  condemned  Earl  Grey.)  and  Dr.  Vhjllpotts,  deprived 
of  his  £4000  a  year  Rectory,  had  only  £2700  per  annum,  as  Bi.snop,  and  with  vastly  increased 


expenses!  Eventually  he  got  a  Prebend  in  Durham  Oathelral.  which  added  £*2UUU  to  his  an- 
nua' 'ncorae.  No  wonder  that  he  ha.**  been  no  very  £reat  friend  to  the  Whigs,  «ver since  tbey 
took  Buch  pains  to  provoke  his  enmity. — M. 

*  4  very  impudent  attempt,  which  has  since  been  repeated  nearir  every  snccesaiTe  year,  to 
obtain  Parliamentary  sanction  to  a  scheme  of  Sir  Thomas  Maryon  Wilson,  to  inclose  a  part  of 
Hampstead  Heath,  in  the  suburbs  of  London,  for  building  purposes— the  profits  to  eo  int'>  the 
pockets  of  the  said  Baronet !    [In  Ift54,  this  attempt  was  again  made,  and  defeated.]— M. 

X  The  Parliamentary  reporters  for  the  London  daily  journals  constitute  that  Fuurth  Eatate 
of  the  Realm,  called— Thk  Gallery. — Many  eminent  men  have  been  members  of  it,  inelnding 
Bheil.  and  Lord  CHmpbell.  ihn  present  Chief  Justice  of  England.— M. 

Ii   Hrichtheimtitone,  better  known  byita  modem  nam«  Rr)5^ton,  wns  a  small  fiHhin}»-hamle( 


Digitized  by 


Google 


THE   ARISTOCRACY   IN   THE   OOTTNTRT.  335 

great  folks  of  your  time,  is,  that  insane  selfishness  which  makes 
thera  prefer  any  place,  however  abominable,  where  they  can  herd 
together  in  their  little  exquisite  coteries,  to  the  noblest  mansion 
Burrounded  with  the  noblest  domains,  where  they  cannot  exist 
without  being  more  or  less  exposed  to  the  company  of  people  not 
exactly  belonging  to  their  own  particular  sect.  How  can  society 
hang  together  long  in  a  country  where  the  Corinthian  capital  takes 
so  much  pains  to  unrift  itself  from  the  pillar?  Now-a-days,  sir, 
your  great  lord,  commonly  speaking,  spends  but  a  month  or  six 
weeks  in  his  ancestral  abode ;  and  even  when  he  is  there,  he  sur- 
rounds himself  studiously  with  a  cursed  town-crew,  a  pack  of  St. 
James's-street  fops,  and  Mayfair  chatters  and  intriguers,  who  give 
themselves  airs  enough  to  turn  the  stomachs  of  the  plain  squirearchy 
and  their  womankind,  and  render  a  visit  to  the  Castle  a  perfect 
nuisance. 

Theodore,  {aside  to  Mullion.)     A  prejudiced  old  prig ! 

Tickler.  They  seem  to  spare  no  pains  to  show  that  they  consider 
the  country  as  valuable  merely  for  rent  and  game — the  duties  of  the 
magistracy  are  a  bore — County  Meetings  are  a  bore — a  farce,  1  be- 
lieve was  the  word — the  assizes  are  a  cursed  V)ore — fox-hunting  itself 
is  a  bore,  unless  in  Leicestershire,  where  the  noble  sportsmen,  from 
all  the  winds  of  heaven,  cluster  together,  and  think  with  ineffable 
contempt  of  the  old-fashioned  chase,  in  which  the  great  man  mingled 
with  gentle  and  simple,  and  all  comers — sporting  is  a  bore,  unless  in 
regular  battue^  when  a  dozen  lordlings  murder  pheasants  by  the 
thousand,  without  hearing  the  cock  of  one  im patrician  fowling-piece 
—except  indeed  some  dandy  poet,  or  philosopher,  or  punster,  has 
been  admitted  to  make  sport  for  the  Philistines.  In  short,  every 
thing  is  a  bore  that  brings  the  dons  into  personal  collision  of  any 
kind  with  people  that  don't  belong  to  the  world. 

Odoherty.  The  world  is  getting  pretty  distinct  from  the  nation,  I 
admit,  and  I  doubt  if  much  love  is  lost  between  them. 

Tickler,  That  was  the  main  evil  I  foresaw  in  this  Popery  bill ; 
that  measure,  sir,  has  alienated  the  hearts  of  the  Clergy — the  hearts 
of  the  real  provincial  squires  and  lairds — it  has  thoroughly  disgusted 
the  mass  of  the  people. 

Macrabin,  Thou  hast  said  it  The  harm  would  have  been  com- 
paratively  trifling  had  the  thing  been  the  work  of  any  one  party  in 
the  State.     The  Protestant  strength  of  the  nation  would  have  gath- 

oo  the  coast  of  Saitez,  tome  52  miles  from  London,  when  the  Prince  of  Wales,  (afterwards 
George  IV.)  made  it  his  summer  residence,  and  built  there,  at  vast  expense,  the  znagnificent 
and  grotesque  building,  in  the  Chinese  style,  called  the  Pavilion  : — it  was  lately  pnichaeed 
from  the  Crown,  and  is  now  a  Museum,  and  place  for  lecturing.  Royalty  made  the  place 
known,  and  a  city  sprane  up,  which  has  now  a  large  population.  With  the  ezce]ption  of  the 
•ea  air  Brighton  Is  aotnallT  London  gone  out  of  town— yon  meet  your  London  fhends  there, 
as  ufual,  and  endeavor  to  think  that  tou  are  happy.  Thu  ie  the  general  fault  of  fashionable 
^vatoring-places  all  over  the  worid.—M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


886  NOOTES  AHBBOSIAN^ 

ered  the  more  visibly  round  the  banners  of  the  opposite  party ;  and 
although  the  measure,  once  carried,  perhaps  nobody  would  ever 
have  attempted,  or  wished  to  undo  it — we  should  have  had  a  solid 
might  arrayed  through  all  classes  of  society,  by  way  of  safeguard 
against  farther  tricks  of  the  same  kidney.  But  now,  where  are  we  I 
The  Whigs,  and  the  Tories,  and  the  Radicals,  all  laid  their  heads 
together  ;  and  the  remnant  that  stood  aloof,  have  neither  numbers 
nor  talent  to  command  a  hearty  following. 

Theodore,  I  concur  in  all  you  have  said — yet  it  must  be  allowed 
that  Sadler,  Chandos,  Vivyan,  and  Blandford,  have  done  all  that 
could  have  been  desired.* 

Tickler.  I  revere  Mr.  Sadler, 

Si  Perjnima  deztrA 

Defendi  poeaent  et  hao  defenta  foissent 

But  what  are  these  among  so  many  ? 

Shepherd,  That  lang  paper  in  the  last  Quarterly  was  a  sair  sign. 
Od,  it  maun  hae  garr^d  some  folks  cock  their  lugs  to  hear  sic  things 
frae  ihem.     Is  it  ken't  wha  wrote  it  ? 

Theodore,  They  spoke  of  Lord  Doodle — but  that,  I  take  it  for 
granted,  was  gammon.  The  Emperor  sported  quite  diplomatic — 
didn*t  know — had  not  an  idea.f 

Odoherty,  I  believe  that  paper  was  nobody  but  Croker's — I  don't 
know  any  other  of  their  people  who  possess  at  once  such  a  variety 
of  knowledge,  the  talent  to  express  it,  the  courage  to  wish  to  express 
such  views  there,  and  influence  enough  in  certain  places  to  be 
allowed  to  express  them. 

Theodore,  He  denies  it. 

Odoherty,  Of  course.  The  common  report,  however,  is,  that  he 
is  going  out  of  ofHce  forthwith,  and  into  Opposition. 

Tickler,  Very  like.  In  the  meantime,  he  has  done  a  great  ser- 
vice, for  the  Quarterly  can't  eat  all  that^  and  so  there's  one  grand 
organ  for  trumpeting  forth  the  doctrine  divine,  "whatever  is,  is 
right,"  shut  up. 

Mullion,  Entirely  tant  mieux.  Well,  what  next!  Something 
must  come. 

Odoherty,  Were  I  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  I  would  not  halt  at 
trifles  now.  Every  human  being  sees  clearly  that  reform  in  Par- 
liament must  come  soon.     If  I  were  he,  it  should  come  very  ioon 

*  Among  the  itrons^est  parli&mentary  opponent*  of  the  Catholic  Relief  Bill  -wen  Michael 
Thomas  S&dler,  the  Marquis  of  Chandoe  (now  Duke  of  Buckingham),  Sir  Richard  Viryan,  and 
the  present  Duke  of  Marlborough,  then  Marqnis  of  Blandford. — M. 

\  Lord  Dudley  wrote  occosionallr  for  the  Quartcriy  Hemew,  and,  thoagh  he  had  a  yearly 
income  of  £100.000,  GiiTord,  nnd  atterwardi  Lockhart,  editorially  insisted  on  his  reoeiTing  tfa« 
usual  twenty  guineas  a  sheet  which  was  the  ordinary  payment  for  contributions.  The  nt« 
was  considerably  greater  in  some  cases  For  some  single  articles  Scott  received  one  hundred 
guineas  each.— John  Murray,  the  fashionable  publisher  in  Albemarle-atreet,  was  known  i« 
the  Scott  and  Blackwood  coteries  as  "  The  Emperor  of  the  West."— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


SWAN  BIVES  SETTLBMBNT.  887 

indeed.  Every  body  sees  that  the  Church  of  Ireland  must  go 
Were  I  he,  it  should  go  to-morrow-morning. 

Tluodore,  What?  throw  up  all  at  once,  pardi  f 

Odoherty.  Throw  up  a  fiddlestick !  You  have  proclaimed  the 
Popish  religion  to  be  no  worse,  as  regards  politics,  than  any  other. 
Upon  what  pretence,  then,  shall  the  immense  majority  of  the  Irish 
people  be  denied  their  natural  right  to  have  their  religion  the  estab- 
lished religion  of  their  island  ?  As  sure  as  two  and  two  make  four, 
the  Duke  of  Wellington's  law,  and  the  Protestant  establishment, 
cannot  live  together. 

Macrabin.  I  never  met  with  any  body  who  thought  otherwise. 

Shepherd,  O  weary  me !  and  to  hear  hoo  the  ne'er-do-weels 
spooled  about  their  sincere  conviction  that  they  were  doin'  the  only 
thing  for  the  gude  of  the  Protestant  establishment  in  Ireland  !  Hoo 
could  they  hae  the  face  ? 

Tickler.  The  face  ? — poh — poh  !  My  dear  Shepherd,  these  gen- 
try have  face  enough  for  any  thing.  Only  hear  Peel  bragging  about 
his  purity  and  piety,  and  all  the  house  hear-hearing  him — the  spin- 
ning spoon  !* 

Odoherty.  How  grand  was  his  defence  of  the  Swan  job !  He 
merely  gave  Tom  a  letter  of  introduction  to  Sir  George  Murray, 
recommending  him  to  the  receipt  of  "  any  facilities*'  in  Sir  George's 
power, — and  attesting  him  to  be  a  young  man  of  most  "  respectable 
character,"  and  "  ample  means,"  and  his  "  relation."  This,  from 
one  Minister  to  another,  was  a  mere  trifle,  you  observe ; — and  as  to 
the  Home  Secretary  himself  having  any  share  in  the  spoil,  why  the 
House  surely  could  not  think  it  necessary  for  him  to  offer  an^ 
answer  to  such  a  contemptible  libel  ? — No,  no  ! — Uear^  hear — im- 
mense applaitse. 

Tidier.  Meanwhile  the  real  points,  the  only  points,  are  passed 
wholly  sub  silentio.  In  point  of  fact,  no  human  being  ever  dreamt 
that  Mr.  Robert  Peel  was  to  draw  money  for  his  own  personal 
purse  from  this  grant  to  his  relation.  Every  body  that  knew  any 
thing  of  the  matter — certainly  every  one  man  in  the  House  of  Com- 
mons— knew  perfectly  well  that  Peel  had  acted  merely  on  the  Vicar 
of  Wakefield's  principle,  who,  if  you  remember,  always  took  caie  to 
lend  a  five-pound  note,  or  an  old  pony,  or  a  new  great^coat,  to  a 

*  The  Toriea— thoM  of  any  thing  like  ancient  deaoent— used  to  ineer  at  Peel,  at  harine  riaea 
ftom  the  people,  and  Cuniliariy  would  ipeak  of  him,  among  themxelTes,  as  "  The  Cotton 
8pinn«>r."  He  showed  how  little  he  cared  for  the  aristocracy  of  rank,  by  the  article  in  his 
will,  in  which  he  earnestly  requested  none  of  his  family  to  accept  a  peeraee.  This  rot 
known  when  Queen  Victoria,  anxious  to  honor  his  memory,  sent  to  Lady  P«el  that 
she  intended  creating  her  a  Countecs  in  her  own  right,  and  wished  to  know  from  what  plsce 
she  would  like  lo  take  the  title.  The  expressed  wiih  of  Sir  R.  Peel  was  pleaded  as  his  widow's 
excuse  for  declining  a  coronet. — When  one  of  Pee fs  brothers  married  LsdyJane  Moore,  the 

rireitent  Earl  of  Monntcsshell's  sister,  George  IV.,  who  did  not  much  like  his  minister,  sneer- 
nitly  said,  alluding  to  the  manufacture  by  which  the  family  had  risen,  '*  Ah,  thoe^  Feels  aro 
■till  fond  of  the  Jennies. ^^^^L. 

Vol.  111.— 23 


Digitized  by 


Google 


838  KOOTBB  AHBBOeiAH A 

troublesome  kinsman,  in  the  sure  hope  of  never  seeing  his  agreeable 
countenance  again.  And  >*ho  blamed  either  the  Vicar  or  the  cadi 
The  real  charge  was,  that  the  grant  to  ihe  respectable  and  wealthy 
second  cousin  of  the  political  Bayard  was  a  grant  enormous  in  itself 
— C50  square  miles  of  the  best  land  in  the  new  colony — and  that 
these  650  square  miles  were  so  situated  as  to  interfere  between  the 
other  settlers  and  the  streams — the  Swan  river  and  the  Canning — 
those  two  noble  rivers,  which  unite  their  waters,  as  per  map  in  the 
Quarterly,  in  the  noble  bay,  over  against  the  which  lies,  thanks  to 
old  Barrow's  honest  confession,  the  noble  and  well-named  island  of 
Rotten  Nest — that  is  Rat  Nest.  On  these  points  the  kinsman  of 
Thomas  has  as  yet  said  nothing. 

Odoherty,  That  was  a  poker  in  the  last  New  Monthly.  By  jingo ! 
he's  getting  it  right  and  left  now,  however. 

Macrabin,  The  press  will  soon  put  an  end  to  this  impostor.  He 
has  great  conceit,  but  he  has  also  great  cowardice,  and  he  will  either 
die  or  go  out. 

Tickler,  Just  think  of  what  his  existence  must  have  been  all 
through  last  session — lying  at  the  mere  mercy  of  every  man  and 
mother's  son  1  I  own,  1  can't  conceive  how  Sadler  allowed  the 
Swanney  to  escape. 

Odoherty,  Sadler's  a  Christian — and  charitable.  But  what  think 
ye  of  Brougham  1 

Theodore.  The  Rolls  in  his  eye.*     Some  sop,  however,  sir. 

Tickler,  And  what  for  no  1  as  Meg  Dod  says.  I  think  Broughany 
the  worst  used  of  men  ;  if  he  doesn't  get  some  good  thing,  some  very, 
very  good  thing  soon,  very,  very  soon 

Odoherty,  It  is  clear  that  Copley  is  on  the  move;  whether  the 
story  of  his  going  to  India  be  true  or  not,  I  can't  tell. 

tickler.  To  India!  as  what! 

Odoherty,  As  Governor-General,  to  be  sure.  You  know,  if  he 
wanted  any  law,  he  would  have  Lord  Dalhousie  at  his  elbow.  But 
the  story  was  not  generally  credited  when  I  left  town.f 

Theodore,  No,  no.  But  there  is  some  move  on  the  tapis — that  all 
agree  about. 

Tickler,  More  Whigs,  I  suppose— well,  well  — 

Odoherty.  The  common  belief  is,  that  whenever  Copley  moves, 

•  In  1829,  Sir  Joha  LeAch  wm  Master  of  the  Rolls.  Am  &b  MtiitT  j«dff«  b«  ^>^u  noted  for 
rarelf  aMigninf;  reasoni  for  hi*  dooisiona.  He  wonid  listen,  with  marked  Mtionee,  and  eroA 
attention, to  a  neries  of  ipeechea  thronehont  a  whole  day,  and  then  aaj  '*ThiB  aninneiion  in 
diaiolved.*'— Bronpham  aspired  to  a  higher  station  than  Mastership  of  the  Rolls.  In  1630,  Im 
was  made  Lord  Chancellor,  with  a  peerage.— M. 

t  Copley,  (Lord  Lyndhartt.)  was  Chancellor  in  1820,  and  discharged  the  dntiea  of  that  offion 
u  well  as  a  common-law  barrister  conld.— There  was  a  mmor  that  he  was  likely  to  t«Jc»  tha 
forernor-generalship  of  India,  the  emolnments  being  Tsat,  and  his  debts  pressinff ;  b«t  tie  oott- 
bnaed  on  the  woolsack  until  Norember,  1830,  retomed  to  it,  «nder  Pael,  to  \SMr^  nod  ngnia 
in  t841-«  — M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


odohebtt'b  bono.  889 

which  mMt  be  before  winter,  either  Leach  or  Wetherell  is  to  have 
the  seals.* 

Tickler.  Wetherell !— what !  along  with  Peel  ? 

Odoherty,  And  what  for  no  ?  as  Meg  Dod  says. 

Tickler,  I  have  no  objection. 

Odoherty.  Wetherell  is  the  King's  candidate,  and  I  should  not 
wonder  though  the  Duke  were  to  gratify  his  Majesty  about  such  a 
trivial  matter  as  this.  But  the  Whigs  arc  strenuous  for  Leach; 
and  there  can  be  no  doubt  he  is  the  man  the  Chancery  Bar  would  be 
most  pleased  with.  In  fact,  no  other  man  in  England  has  much 
pretension  to  fill  that  place  now — and,  alas!  what  will  even  he  bo 
after  Old  Bags  ? 

Macrabin,  lliat  opens  the  Rolls  to  Brougham — very  well  indeed, 
Mr.  Patriot. 

Theodore,  The  Schoolmaster  would  then  be  at  home. 

Shepherd,  Weel  done,  Dominie  Hairy  !  Ye  did  wisely  to  keep 
your  taws  aff  Peel  yon  time ! 

Odoherty.  Speaking  of  the  taws^\  as  you  call  them,  have  you  seen 
Beranorer's  song  on  Monsieur  Judas^  Tickler  ? 

Tickler,  Not  I — IVe  seen  nothing  of  his  these  two  years.  Can 
you  repeat  it  1 

Odoherty.  I  can  chant  it,  which  is  better.  Here,  Macrabin,  take 
the  poker  and  tongs,  and  tip  me  an  accompaniment. 

Macrabin,  Sing  on — I  am  ready. 

Odohbbtt  singSf  (accompanied  by  Macrabin.) 

MoDBieur  Jndas  est  an  dr61e  Sans  respeet  du  caract^re, 

Qui  soutieot  aveo  chaleur  Souvent  ce  l&che  effrontd 

Qu'il  o'a  jon6  qu'uD  seul  rdle  Porte  I'lmbit  militaire 

£t  o'a  pri8  qu*uDe  couleur.  Aveo  la  croiz  au  cdt6. 

Nous  qui  d^testoDS  lee  eeos  Nous  qui  faisons  yolontiers 

TaDt6t  rouges,  tantdt  burner  L'^oge  ds  uos  guerriers, 

Parlous  bas,  rarlous  has, 

Parlous  bas,  Parlous  has, 

loi  pr^  i  ai  vu  Judas,  Id  prds  fa  vu  Judos, 

J'ai  vu  Judas,  j'ai  yn  Judaa.  Xai  vu  Judas,  j*ai  tu  Judas^ 

Curieux  et  uouyelliste,  Enfio,  sa  bouche  fl^trie 

Cet  observateur  moral  Ose  prendre  ud  uoble  aoeent, 

Parfois  se  dit  joumaliste,  Et  des  mauz  de  la  patrie 

£t  traoche  du  liberal ;  Ne  parle  qu'eu  g^missant 

Mais  vouloDs-uous  r^clamer  Nous  qui  tuisons  le  proc^ 

Le  droit  de  tout  impiimer,  A  tous  les  mauvais  FraD(ai% 

Parlous  baa,  Parlous  bas, 

Parlous  has.  Parlous  bas, 

Ici  pr^  j'ai  vu  Judas,  lei  pr^  fai  vu  Judas, 

J'ai  yu  Jucuui»  j*ai  vu  Juda&  J*ai  vu  Judas,  j'ai  vu  Judas^ 

*  N«iUi«r  LMoh  nor  Wetliaiell  did  obtain  tli«  sppointmeat  of  Lord  ChftaeoUor^-M. 
f  r<uM«,— tho  iMthtr  itrsp  nsod  for  ohsctiMflMBt  of  childroa  ia  BootUnd.— Bf. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


840  NOCTES  AXBROBIAUM, 

Mootieor  Judas,  tans  malice,  Ponraniyoos  ji»qa*aaz  moncharda. 

Tout  haut  voua  dit ;  **  Met  amis,  Parlous  baa, 

Lea  limiera  de  la  police  Parlous  baa, 

Soufe  &  craiudre  eu  ce  pays."  lei  prds  j'ai  vu  Judaa, 

Halt  DOU8,  qui  de  mains  brocards  Xai  vu  Juaaa,  j*ai  tu  Judas. 

Theodore,  Very  good,  indeed  ;  upon  my  word,  Mr.  Maorabin,  you 
are  a  performer  of  very  considerable  gusro. 

Macrabin.  We've  all  heard  a  deal  of  your  improvising.  Pray, 
overset  this  off-hand,  as  the  Deutcbers  say^-do  now,  that's  a  good 
fellow. 

Theodore,  Let  us  sky  a  dragon.  Sir  Morgan,  and  be  the  chant  with 
the  loser. 

Odoherty,  Done — (Skys  a  sovereign,) — Unfortunate  Signifer  Do 
hertiades.     Well, — here  goes — Macrabin,  resume  the  instiument. 

Odoherty  sings — {accompanied  as  before.) 

Here  Judas,  with  a  face  where  shame  Soon  may  he  readi  his  final  home. 

Or  honor  ne'er  was  known  to  be,  "A  member  of  the  Cbureh  of  Rome.**! 

Maintaining  be  is  still  the  same,  But  hush,  <bc. 

That  he  ne'er  ratted — no — not  he.* 

But  we  must  spurn  the  grovelling  hack,  Now  from  his  mouth  polluted  flows — 

To-day  all  white — ^to-morrow  black,  Snuffled  in  Joseph  Surface  tcme — 

But  hush  1  heUl  hear.  Laments  o'er  hapless  Ireland's  woea. 

Hell  bear,  he'll  hear ;  O'er  England's  dangerous  state  a  groan. 

Iscariot's  near — Iscariot's  near !  Ere  long  beneath  the  hands  of  Ketch, 

Sigh  for  thjrself,  degraded  wretch  I 

The  moral  Surface  swears  to-day  But  hush,  A^ 

Defiance  to  the  priest  and  Pope ; 

To-morrow,  ready  to  betray  Judas  I  till  then  the  public  fleece. 

Hill  brother  churchmen  to  the  rope.  For  kin  and  cousins  sdieme  and  job^ 

But  let  us  trust  the  hnngmun's  string  Rail  against  watchmen  and  police,^ 

Is  spun  for  him — the  recreant  thing  I  Inferior  swindlera  scourge  or  rob. 

But  hush !  dec  At  last,  another  crowd  before. 

Thou  dialt  speak  once — and  speak  do 

All  character  that  knave  has  lost ; —  more ! 

Soon  will  the  Neophyte  appear.  But  hush  I  hell  hear. 

By  priestly  hands  bedipp'd,  oe-cross'd.  He'll  hear,  he'll  hear; 

Begrcased,  bechrism'd,  with    holy  Iscariot's  near — Iscariot's  near, 
smear. 

Tickler,  Your  imitation.  Baronet,  is  much  fiercer  than  the  origi- 
nal warrants. 

.•  This  parody,  by  Dr.  M&ginn,  (which  wm  repahlished  by  •ruj  vltn-ProiMtant  ionraal  in 
th«  Ignited  Kingdom,)  was  Iflvelled  at  8ir  Robert  P«fl,  who  had  brought  in  and  carried  CathoUo 
RmLici-ation,  to  which  the  whole  of  his  preceding  twenty  years  olpablie  life  had  been  co«- 
stantly  And  energetically  opposed.  PeePs  own  plea  was  that  he  wax  as  Anti-Catholic  as  erer 
but  the  crisis  arose  when  he  had  to  chooee  between  Emancipation  and  Ciril  War,  and  hw  pre- 
ferred the  former. — M. 

t  The  ordinary  conclnsion  of  a  gallows  speech  in  Ireland, — ^*  I  die  an  unworthy  memb«r  of 
the  Church  of  Rome.'-— M.  O'D. 

t  When  IriHh  Secretary,  Peel  established  the  const&bnlary  force,  br  which  Ireland  is  goT- 
erned,~the  members  of  it  are  familiarly  called  "  Peelers.'*  la  18S0-3b,  when  Home  Seent&ry, 
he  organized  the  present  excellent  police  of  London.— 'II. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


BBBANGEB   AllD  HOOK.  341 

Odoherty,  It  is  not  .the  worse  for  that.  We  are  of  a  sterner  cast. 
Though,  indeed,  Beranger  is  not  a  bad  hand  at  polishing  a  fellow  off, 
when  he  pleases. 

Theodore,  For  rny  part,  I  like  his  gay  and  sprightly  songs  better 
than  his  political  ones — for  instance,  Roger  Bontemps^  Le  petit  komme 
griSy  and  others  of  that  kind.  I  do  not  know  where  we  should  look 
in  English  for  songs  of  that  particular  species.  There  is  a  quiet 
humor  about  them,  rather  insinuated  than  expressed,  which  is  quite 
charming. 

Shepherd.  Verra  like  my  ain  style.  Ye  a'  mind  my  "  It  is  a 
fac" 

Odoherty,  One  of  these  very  songs  is,  however,  political — ^I  mean 
the  '^Roid'Yvetoty 

Theodore.  Which  made  Bonaparte  very  angry ; — the  picture  of 
the  quiet  king,  who,  '*  Se  levait  tard,  se  couchait  tot,"  was  a  con- 
trast with  himself  that  was  not  commendable. 

Tickler.  Where  is  Beranger  now  1 

Theodore.  In  jail.* 

Tickler.  A  common  case  with  wits. 

Theodore.  I  wish  some  of  you,  gentlemen,  would  write  an  Essay, 
full  of  translations,  on  French  songs — they  are  of  much  more  im- 
portance in  that  country  than  here. 

Tickler.  And  yet  here,  too,  we  have  known  songs  to  produce  no 

small  effect  ;f  we  do  not  forget  the  "Hunting  the  hare" 

"  Maidens  of  Marybooe,  tricked  out  in  articles,"  ^  <&c. 

Odoherty.  An  excellent  song !  What  a  capital  verse  that,  begin- 
ning with, 

**  Next  came  the  Dowager  Countess  of  Tankerrille*' 

Or  better  still— 

**  Then  the  procession,  I  fear,  it  will  never  end, 

Came  witli  the  others  bis  homage  to  pay, 
Honor'd  by  birth,  by  profession  tlie  reverend, 

Neither  by  nature,  the  hypocnte  Qrey." 

Shepherd.  Oh !  oh  !  that's  capital.  That  Grey  has,  I'm  told  noc, 
some  piraun  fat  kirk  in  Lunnan.J 

Tickler.  Ky !  To  have  been  the  personal  enemy  of  the  king,  is 
now  a  passport  to  preferment.  He  has  succeeded  Charles  Bloom- 
field  in  the  rich  living  of  Bishopsgate. 

XJno  avulso  non  deficit  alter, 

£t  simili  frondescit  Virga  Metalla 

•  Thji  tTM  in  the  last  year  of  the  reign  of  Ch&rlea  X.— M 

t  The  aonft  here  referred  to,  were  written  bj  Theodore  Hook,  and  pablUhed  in  the  John 
Bull  newspaper,  which  he  edited.  The/  were  satires  -on  the  persons  who  pabliolj  took  pact 
with  Qneen  Caroline,  in  18-il>-l.— M. 

X  Dr.  E.  Grejr,  brother  of  Earl  Grey,  was  made  Bishop  of  Hereford  in  1838.— When  Lord 
Grey  was  Premier,  eren  to  bear  his  name  was  to  be  pretty  sore  of  obt&ininf  some  forernmonl 
appointment !— M 


Digitized  by 


Google 


842  NO0TE8  AHBSOBIANJL 

Without  pretending  to  know  who  wrote  that  verse  about  Grey,  I 
guess,  by  its  odium  theologicum,  it  was  a  broth'er  parson,  Macrabin — 
the  Dean,  probably.  But  to  return.  The  old  French  goveronient, 
il  used  to  be  said,  was  a  despotism,  moderU  par  chansons^  and  there 
is  no  style  in  which  our  neighbors  have  not  succeeded. 

Macrabin,  Even  in  slang  ?  Could  a  Frenchman,  think  you,  ever 
write — 

Go  hack  to  Brummagem,  go  hack  to  Brummagem,* 

Youth  of  that  anuent  and  balfpeDoy  town — 
Maul  manufacturers,  rattle  and  rummage  *em. 
Country  twell'd  nobs  may  swell  your  renown  I 

Shepherd.  Or  my  ain — 

Come  like  a  tailor,  Donald  Macgilliyray, 

In  and  out  and  roundabout,  needle  them  deverly  t 

Odoherty,  I  do  not  know ;  the  French  are  not  a  boxing  people,  a 
circumstance  which  sufficiently  accounts  for  their  cruel  propensities ; 
but  they  have  slang  songs— capital  ones,  too — for  instance,  look  at 
my  friend  Vidocq's  Memoirs. 

Theodore,  You  allude,  I  suppose,  to  that  excellent  song,  begin- 
ning with — 

En  roolant  de  vergne  eo  vergne  t 

Odoherty.  Yes. 

Tickler.  Here  is  the  volume  among  old  Kit's  books  here — he  has 
marked  that  very  song.     I  wish  you  would  translate  it,  Sir  Moi^an. 

Odolierty.  To  hear  is  to  obey. — Fill  all  round. — Sheep-feeder,  you 
are  remiss  in  supplying. 

Shepfierd.  Na,  na,  my  laddie,  ye  shall  no  play  Sergeant  Kite  wi' 
me,  and  drink  twa  glasses  to  my  ane. 

Odoherty  {sing8.)\ 

Ab  from  ken(l)  to  ken  I  was  going,  1  Ken — shop,  house. 

Doing  a  bit  on  the  prigging  lav  ;(2)  2  Prigging    lay — ^tbieving 

"Wlio  should  I  meet,  but  a  jolly  blowenXS)  business. 

Tol  lol,  lol  lol,  tol  derol,  ay  ;  8  Blowen — girl,  strumpet^ 

Who  should  I  meet,  but  a  jolly  blowen,  sweetheart 

Who  was  fly(4)  to  the  tune  o*  day .(5)  4  Fltf — (contraction  otJUuh) 

awake,  up  to,  practised  in. 

Who  should  I  meet,  but  a  jolly  blowen,  5  Time   o*  day — ^knowledge 

Who  was  fly  to  the  time  o'  day ;  of  business,  thieving,  Ac 

I  pattered  in  flash,(6)  like  a  ooYey,(7)  knowing,  6  Pattered  in  fiouhr—Bpdk^ 

Tol  lol,  4&c.  in  slang. 

•*  Ay,  bub  or  grubby,(8)  I  say."  7  Covey — ^man. 

8  ^u6,*^ru6— drink,  food. 

*  "  Go  back  to  Brammagfem"  wu  written  by  J.  Hamilton  Raynoldi,  (Tom  Uood^s  brotbot^ 
in-Uw,)  and  first  appeared  in  hit  "Bemaint  of  Peter  Corooran."— M. 
f  En  roulant  de  rergne  en  rergne,  (1)  Lonra  malnra  dondaine. 

Pour  apprendre  k  gnapiner.  (2)  Qui  dn  pivoii  lolisait,  (4) 

J'ai  renoontrA  la  merc&ndiira,  (3)  Lonfa  malara  donde. 

1  CUf  to  dtjf.  3  Th»  Sk4ipkMper. 

9  TV  work.  4  Sold  wins. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


A  SLASQ  OBAST. 


848 


I  pattered  in  flash,  like  a  oovey,  knowing, 
**  Ay,  bub  or  grubby,  I  say.** — 

*  Lots  of  gutter,"  (9)  quo  she,  "  are  flowing, 

Tol  lol,  Ac; 
Lend  me  a  lift  in  the  family  way.  (10) 

*  Lots  of  gatter,"  quo  she,  **  are  flowing, 

Lend  me  a  lift  iu  the  family  way. 
Tou  may  have  a  crib  to  stow  in, 

Tol  loX  Ac. 
Welcome,  my  pal,  (12)  as  the  flowers  in  May. 

*  Ton  may  have  a  bed  to  stow  in ; 

Welcome,  my  pal,  as  the  Flowers  in  May." 
To  her  ken  at  once  I  go  in, 

Tol  lol,  Ac 
Where  in  a  comer  out  of  the  way. 

To  her  ken  at  once  I  go  in. 

Where  in  a  corner  out  of  the  way, 

With  his  smeller,  (18)  a  trumpet  blowing, 
Tol  lol,  Ac. 

A  regular  swell-cove  (14)  lushy  (15)  lay. 


9  Oatter-^poftiet. 

10  Fcanily — the  thieves  in  ge 
neraL  Tfie  Family  Way — 3ie 
thieving  line. 

11  CV*6— bed. 

12  Po^-'firiend,  oompaoion, 
paramour. 


With  his  smeller  a  trumpet  blowing; 

A  reguLir  t>well-cove  lushy  lay ; 
To  his  dies  (16)  my  hooks  (17)  I  throw  in, 

Tol  lol,  Ac 
And  collar  his  dragons  (18)  clear  away. 


18  £^//£r— nose.  Trumpet 
blowing  here  is  not  slang,  but 
poetry  for  snoring. 

14  Utoell-cove — gentleman, 
dandy. 

15  ZuMy— drunk. 

16  Cliet — ^pockets. 

17  i/boA»~  fingers ;  in  full, 
thieving  hooks. 

18  Collar  his  dragons — ^take 
his  sovereigns ;  on  the  obverse 

of  a  sovereign  is,  or  was,  a  figure  of  St.  George  and  the  dragon.  The  etymon  of 
collar  is  obvious  to  all  pei-soos  who  know  the  taking-ways  of  Bow-street,  and 
elsewhere  It  is  a  whimsical  coiooideoce,  that  the  motto  of  the  Marquis  of  Lon- 
donderry is,  **  ^letueiida  corolla  dracon's  "  Ask  the  city  of  London,  if  "  I  fear  I 
may  not  collar  the  draguos,"  would  not  be  a  fair  translation. 

J'l*  rencontre  la  mere&ndiir«, 
Qui  da  piroii  ■oiisait. 
Je  lui  jaspine  en  bigorne,  (5) 
lionfa  maluradondaine, 
Qa'as-tu  done  &  morfiiler?  (6) 
Loufa  malara  dond6. 


Je  lui  jaspine  en  bigorne 
Q,a'aa-tu  done  &  morfiller? 
J*ai  da  cbenu  pivois  tans  lane*  (7) 
Lonfa  malara  dondaine, 
Et  da  larton  saronne,  (8) 
Lonfa  malura  donde. 

J'ai  dn  chenn  piToit  eans  lanoa 

Ut  du  larton  lavonne 

£ne  lonrde.  unr  toumantt  (9) 

Lonfa  malara  dondnine, 

£t  utt  pieu  pour  roopiller  (10) 

Lonfa  malura  donde. 

5  /  a»k  kin  in  slang: 

6  Tout. 

7  Oood  wins  tpitkout  w^sr, 

8  WkiUbrud. 

9  A  dtor  »nd  a  kef. 
10  AhedUsleepapon. 


Une  lourde,  an  tonrnante 
Kt  an  pieu  pour  roupiller, 
J'eiiqoille  dans  sa  eambrioU  (II) 
Lonia  malura  dondaine, 
Espersnt  de  I'entifler  (12) 
Lonfa  malara  dond6. 

J'enqnille  dans  sa  eambriole 

Esperant  de  I'entifler 

Je  rembroqae  aa  coin  da  rifle  (13) 

Lonfa  malura  dondaine, 

Un  messi^re  qai  pion^ait  (14> 

Lonia  malura  donde. 

Je  rembroqae  aa  coin  dn  rifle 
Un  messidre  qui  pion^ait ; 
J*ai  sonde  dans  ses  vallades,  (15) 
Lonfa  malura  dondaine, 
Bon  carle  i*ai  iNrssieue  (16) 
Lonfa  malura  donde. 

11  /  enter  ker  ekamber. 

13  To  make  myeelf  aipretahle  to  ker. 

13  /  obeerve  in  Ike  comer  of  the  room. 

14  A  man  lying  esleep. 
16  Seerek  kie  poekete. 
16  It4tokkismeney. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


844 


NOCTES   AMBBOSIANiB. 


To  his  dies  mj  books  I  throw  in. 
And  collar  bifl  dragons  clear  away ; 

Then  his  ticker  (19)  I  set  agoing, 
To!  lol,  <kc. 

And  bis  onions,  (20)  chain,  and  kej. 

Then  his  ticker  I  set  agoing. 

With  bis  onioDs,  chain,  and  key. 
Next  slipt  off  his  bottom  do'ing, 

Tol  Jul,  Ac 
And  bis  gingerbread  topper  gay. 

Next  slipt  off  his  bottom  clo'iog, 

And  his  gingerbread  topper  gay. 
Then  bis  ottier  toggery  (21)  stowing, 

Tol  lol,  <fec 
All  with  the  swag,  (22)  I  sneak  away. 

Then  his  other  toggery  stowing. 
All  with  the  swug,  1  sueak  away , 

**  Tramp  it  tramp  it,  my  jolly  bluwen, 
Tol  lol,  <tc. 

Or  be  grubbed  (23)  by  the  beaks  (24)  we  may ; 

"  Tramp  it,  tramp  it,  my  jolly  blow  en, 
Or  be  grabbed  by  Uie  beaks  we  may  , 

And  we  shall  caper  a-heel-and-toeing. 
Tol  lol,  Ac. 

A  Newgate  hornpipe  some  fine  day. 

*  And  we  shall  caper  a-heel-and-toeing, 
A  Newgate  hornpipe  some  fine  day ; 

With  the  mots,  (25)  their  ogles  (26)  throwing, 
Tol  lol,  Ac 

And  old  Cotton  (27)  hmnming  his  pray.  (28) 


19  Tieker  —  wMb.     The 
French  slang  is  tocquanta. 

20  Oniaru — seals 


21  Toggery  —  clothes 
toga.'] 

22  Swag — plunder. 


ffrom 


28  Orahbed—is\i&[i. 

24   Bcakt — polioe-offioers 


25  1/b^t— girls. 

26  Offfet—eyes. 

27  0/d  Cotton — ^then  Ordina- 
ry of  Newgate. 

28  Humming  his  pray— say- 
ing his  prayers. 


J*ai  lond^  dant  vei  Talladec, 

Son  carle  jai  pesjii^^ue 

Son  carle,  auK»i  na  locqaante  (17) 

Lonfa  malura  dondaine, 

Kt  ses  attaches  de  ce  (18) 

Loofa  raalura  dond<^. 

Bon  carle,  aussi  sa  tocquante 

Et  tes  attaches  de  c6. 

Son  coulant  et  sa  montante  (10) 

Lonfa  raalura  dondaine. 

Kl  ton  combre  galuch^  (20) 

Lonfa  malura  dondd. 

Son  coal  ant  et  la  monta.iite 

Et  son  combre  galuche, 

Bon  frusque.  auMi  sa  lisette  (21) 

Lonfa  malur^i  dondaine. 

Et  ses  tirants  brodancb6t  (92) 

Lonfa  malura  donde. 

1 7  His  monqf  and  watek. 

18  Hit  silver  hucktet. 

10  His  chain  and  breeehM. 

90  Ootd-tdftd  hat. 

91  His  coat  and  waistcoat. 
98  Knil>roid^«d  ttooHngt. 


Son  frasque,  aussi  la  lisette 
Et  ses  tirants  brodanch^s. 
Crompe,  crorope,  mercandid^e  (23) 
Lonfa.  malura  dondaine. 
Car  nous  serions  bequillAs  (31) 
Lonfa  malura  donde. 

Crompe,  crompe,  mercandiirs. 
Car  nous  serions  bequill^s 
Sur  la  placards  de  vergne  (35) 
Lonfa  malura  dondaine, 
11  nous  faudrait  gambiUet  ^6) 
Lonfa  m&lura  dond^. 

Bar  la  placarde  de  Tergne 
II  nous  faudrait  gambiller 
Allum^s  de  toutes  ces  larguas  (37) 
Lonfa  malura  dondaine. 
Et  du  trepe  raasembld  (28) 
Lonfa  malura  dond^. 

93  Tiike  cars  of  ffourselfy  skopkmpar. 

24  Hamgtd. 

95  On  tkt  Piaeo  ds  Fills. 

90  Todaneo. 

97  lAioked  at  h^  all  tkatt  tPMMM. 

SB  Psopta 


Digitized  by 


Google 


THEODOBB  HOOK.  345 

*  With  the  mots  their  ogles  throwing, 

And  old  Cotton  humming  his  pray ; 
And  the  fogle-hunters  (29 J  doing,  29  Fogle-huntert — pickpook- 

Tol  lol.  Ac.  eta. 

Their  monuDg  fake  [80]  in  the  priggmg  lay."  80  Morning  fake-^monang 

thievery. 

Odoherty,  Well,  I've  sung  my  share  of  this  night's  singing  in  all 
conscience.     Now,  Theodore,  do  give  us  a  twist. 

Theodore,  A  Twiss — Heaven  forefeud !  1  don't  deal  in  Horatian 
metres.* 

Tickler,  I  should  feel  much  obliged  — 

Theodore^  {going  to  the  piano-forte.)  Oh !  if  it  obliges  you — 
{aside  to  DoIierty)--A  had  no  idea  that  these  savages  had  such  a  thing 
as  a  piano  in  their  country.  I  took  it  for  granted  they  played  only 
on  the  pipes. 

Odoherty,  {aside  to  Theodore,)  Or  the  fiddle—it  is  a  national  in- 
strument. 

TheodorSj  {chanting.) 

Air — My  Banks  they  are  covered  with  Bees, 

My  left  is  adom*d  by  a  poet, 

Unrivalled  in  song  and  in  grog, 
For  the  vford  is  continually  go  tV, 

Tween  the  Muse,  or  the  mug,  and  our  Hogg. 
Mount  Ben^r  and  Mador  may  show  it, 

Of  his  dumgs  they  both  keep  a  log. 
Fm  rejoiced,  and  the  utorldy  sir,  shall  know  it, 

That  IVe  boozed  at  the  elbow  of  Hog^. 

Fid  de  rol,  Ao, 

To  the  left  of  my  Shepherd  appears 

One  who  laughter  and  law  is  a  dab  in ; 
Who  respects  neither  parsons  nor  peers. 

When  they  cross  the  career  of  Macrabin. 
The  Whigs  are  in  funk  for  his  jeers. 

Jolly  Tories  deh'ght  his  confab  in — 
And  his  eyes  play  the  deuce  wi*  the  dears, 

In  the  soft  evening  hours  of  Macrabin. 

Fal  de  rol,  Ao. 

Next  to  thee,  thou  prime  maximist,t  Morgan, 

The  current  of  rLyming  must  flow ; 
Of  lampooning  the  great  barrel-organ, 

Still  grinding  a  chant  on  the  foe. 

Allnmte  d«  toatea  cm  larguca  Lonf&  nulnra  dondain«, 

Et  da  trepe  rajMmble,  Tons  abolant  goapiner  (30) 

£t  de  CM  cb&rUito  bom  drillec,  (30)  Lonfa  malara  dondd. 

99  Thieve*,'  geoifellewe.  30  JIU  coming  te  rob, 

*  Horac«  Twin,  wbo  afterwards  wrote  the  life  of  Loid  Eldon. — M. 

t  No.  I,  of  the  "Maxims  of  Odoherty*'  was  publishid  in  Blackwood  for  May  ~No.  IT.  in 
Jjine : — No.  Ill,  which  completed  the  series,  in  September.  18*24.  There  were  one  hundred 
and  forty-two  Mviima,  which  filled  thirty-five  pageit  (in  smaller  type  than  ordinary)  of  the 
Macaxiaa.    Ilaginn  considered  them  as  among  the  best  articles  he  had  written,  and  boasted 


Digitized  by 


Google 


846  KOonES  ambbosianil 

Than  and  I,  most  fllustrioos  Baronet 

QraDd  Masters  are  both  io  the  trade ; 
And  our  bosoms  would  eaeli  have  a  star  on  it^ 

If  a  knighthood  of  libel  were  made. 

Fal  de  r4  te 

At  the  foot  of  the  table,  Sir  Tickler, 

The  bottle  we  see  in  his  band, 
For  old  rum  and  religion  a  stickler, 

In  punch  and  in  piety  grand. 
Alas  1  for  tlie  Cockney  suburbans, 

Who  now  are  in  fear  for  their  heath, 
How  Hampstead  would  shake  in  distnrbance, 

If  2^d'8  scimitar  leapt  from  iU  sheath. 

Fal  de  rol,  in, 

0  scribe  of  the  witty,  dear  Mordy, 

Whose  stamp  coins  Old  Ciirislopher*B  bnlUiMi, 

1  am  sure  we  snould  get  very  wordy 
In  rehearsing  the  pitiises  of  MuUion  ; 

We  CD  n't  count  up  the  whole  of  his  merits, 
Bui  from  Nortii  down  to  Ambrose's  scullion, 

The  lad  who  directs  and  inspii-its 
The  whole  Tory  battalion  is — Mulllon. 

Fal  de  rol,  Aq. 

And  now  for  applauses  yon  look 

On  a  person  whose  Qualities  we  adore; 
And  you'll  have  it  by  nook  or  by  crook, 

Quuth  the  modest  nnd  blush-mantled  Theodora. 
Contradiction  in  this  we'll  not  bi*ook ; 

Ni>^tliat  window  should  instantly  be  a  door 
For  the  wretch  who  this  dogma  forsook, 

Eaeth  bolos  no  Imf&oviskr  likb  Theodoei  1 

Fal  de  rol,  Ao, 

Hold — ^at  present  he*s  chained  with  the  gont» 

But  at  Christopher's  table  we  sit — 
Aud  on  no  account  must  we  leave  out 

Our  immortal  old  paymaster  Kit 
If  he  B  sane,  1  confouudedly  duubt — 

And  the  world  never  tliought  him  a  wit; 
But  he's  sending  good  Bourdeaux  about^ 
Ajid  so  here  goes  a  stanza  and  KiL 

Fal  de  rol,  Aa 
That  will  do  for  to-night.* 

Shfphtrd.  Charmin' — ^just  wiinnerfu'^-eb,  man!  gie  roe  a  shake 
o'  yojr  hand ;  yeVe  just  a  brither  amang  us  when  North^s  awa,  and 
we're  at  our  ease. 

Theodore,  }Ay  dear  Shepherd,  Tin  not  such  a  Cockney  but  I  can 


that  they  were  "downright  and  actual  obMrrationi  on  hvman  lira.**    After  Maeinn*!  death, 
*B  1843,  Bla.-kwood  reprinted  them  from  the  M '"    '^  "    '        ^^'   ''''  — 

ra»  exhaatted  in  a  week.— Such  a  mixturu  of 

mowledge  of  all  classea  of  society,  never  emi 
*  Thia  chant  waa  writUa  by  Maginn.— Bf. 


in  1843,  Bta.-kwood  reprinted  them  from  the  Magazine,  as  a  separate  Tolnme,  and  the  edition 
wa»  exhaatted  in  a  week.— Such  a  mixturu  of  idt  and  conunon  seaae.  reoondiu  leaminff  aai 
knowledge  of  all  classea  of  aociety,  never  emanated,  before  or  since,  from  one  mind.— iC 


Digitized  by 


Google 


TAB  "tesPHEBD's  SORa.  847 

appreciate  the  squeeze  of  that  hand.  Come  now,  give  us  a  taste  of 
your  quality. 

Shepherd.  My  quality,  hinny ! 

Tickler.  He  means  a  song  of  the  true  old  Scottish  cut — a  genuine 
bud  of  the  heather.     Come,  James. 

Shepherd,  Is  that  a'  ?  I'll  mak  and  sing  ane  aff-hand — ^love  nevef 
comes  wrang  to  me. — {Sings.) 

O,  lore's  a  hitter  thing  to  bide, 

The  lad  that  drees  it's  to  be  pitied ; 
It  blinds  to  a'  the  warld  beside, 

Aud  maks  a  body  dilde  and  dited ; 
It  lies  sae  sair  at  my  breast  bane, 

My  heart  is  meltm  saft  and  safter : 
To  dee  outright  I  wad  be  fain, 

Wer^t  no  for  fear  what  may  be  after. 

I  didna  ken  what  course  to  steer, 

Fra  sae  to  dool  an'  daftness  driyen, 
For  ane  sae  loyelj,  sweet,  an*  dear, 

Sure  neyer  breath'd  the  breeze  o'  hearen ; 
O  there's  a  soul  beams  in  her  ee, 

Ae  blink  o't  maks  ane's  spirit  gladder, 
And  ay  the  mair  she  geeks  at  me, 

It  pits  me  aje  in  loye  the  madder. 

Loye  winna  heal,  it  winna  thole, 

You  canna  shun't  even  when  you  fear*t; 
An'  O,  this  sickness  o'  the  soul, 

Tis  post  the  power  o'  man  to  bear  it  I 
And  yet  to  mak  o'  her  a  wife, 

I  couldna  square  it  wi'  my  duty, 
rd  like  to  see  ner  a'  her  life 

Bemaiu  a  virgin  in  her  beauty ; 

Aspore,  as  bonny  as  she's  now, 

T^e  walks  of  human  life  adorning; 
As  blithe  as  bird  upon  the  bough, 

As  sweet  as  breeze  of  summer  momii^ 
Loye  paints  the  earth,  it  paints  the  sky, 

An'  tints  each  loyely  hue  of  Nature, 
And  makes  to  the  enchanted  eye 

An  angel  of  a  mortal  creature. 

Theodore.  Exquisite — mighty  good,  really — why,  Hogg,  Velluti*8 
a  joke  to  you.* 

Tickler.  Very  well  indeed,  James.  Pass  the  bottle,  Mullion — 
and  Macrabin — why,  what  are  you  about,  Macrabin  ? 

Macrabin.  Mr.  Hogg,  may  I  crave  a  bumper  ? 

*  V«Uati,  with  hii  peculiar  tdIm,  (he  had  been  a  nnger  in  the  Pope*s  ohapel  at  Rome.) 
mwt  hare  had  exeention  in  a  manner  not  at  all  like  Hog f'a  whoee  Toioe  was  a  bassos— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


348  KOCTES   AMBEOSTAN-fi. 

Shepherd,  Wi'  right  good  wull.  Gentlemen,  nae  skylights — ^the 
Advocate's  toast. 

Macrabin.  In  rising,  sir,  upon  this  occasion,  I  may  safely  assure 
you,  that  1  do  not  leave  my  seat  without  very  considerable  agitation. 
I  do  not  allude,  sir,  to  that  agitation  which  is  now  convulsing  Ireland 
— that  agitation  which  a  dastardly  minister  of  a  d^raded  crown 
vainly  hoped  to  extinguish  forever  by  truckling  to  that  treason, 
which  it  was  his  bounden,  and  sacred  and  most  imperative  and  holy< 
duty,  sir,  as  a  man,  and  a  Christian,  and  a  Briton,  to  have  trampled 
— no,  sir,  I  allude  to  nothing  of  this  nature,  however  in  itself  moment- 
ous. My  business  at  present  is  nearer  home.  I  allude,  sir,  in  a 
word,  to  that  internal  agitation  which  a  modest  individual  may  easily 
claim  credit  for  harboring  within  his  bosom  of  bosoms,  at  the  mo- 
ment  when  he  rises  to  address  himself  to  such  an  assemblage  of  in- 
tellect, of  genius,  and  of  virtue,  as  I  now  behold  congregated  around 
this  festive  board.  {Hear,  hear,)  Sir,  we  live  in  extraordinary 
times.  A  great  crisis  is  indubitably  on  the  anvil.  The  clouds,  my 
lords,  are  thickening  around  the  horizon  of  Great  Britain — they  are 
conglomerated  in  portentous  and  inevitable  gloom  ;  and  the  awful, 
the  appalling,  the  irresistible,  and  most  important  burst  already 
quivers  in  the  balance.  Every  symptom,  sir,  conspires  to  give  omen 
and  indication  of  the  approaching  horrors.  The  Great  Unknown  is 
no  more.  Those  dark,  and  atrocious,  and  altogether  unjustifiable 
suspicions,  to  which  I  need  not  more  particularly  allude,  disturb  no 
longer  the  midnight  pillows  of  Mrs.  Grant,  Mrs.  Thomas  Scott,  and 
Mr.  George  Forbes,  (ffear^  hear.)  The  private  accounts  of  the 
Corporation  of  London  are  openly  demanded  in  the  Parliament  of 
England.  (Hear^  hear,)  A  son  is  bom  unto  the  Mandarin — the 
lamentable  story  of  Lord  Londonderry  and  the  coal-tax  need  not 
detain  us  here.  Mr.  Jeffrey  is  Dean* — iUear^  hear,) — ^Mr.  John 
Tate  is  Sheriff-depute  of  Clackmannan  and  Kinross.  The  dissolution 
of  the  Ottontan  Empire  in  Europe,  the  utter  ruin  of  the  wilful  king, 
the  demolition,  in  other  words,  of  the  Siljukians,  Atabaks,  Kharis- 
mians,  and  Turk.s,  who  have  so  long  been  in  possession  of  the  pr»- 
fecture  of  the  East,  as  typefied  by  the  little  increasing  horn,  is  at 
hand.  (Hear!  hear!)  Mr.  George  Bankes  has  been  defeated  at 
Cambridge,  and  the  sixth  vial  is  on  the  very  eve  of  being  poured  out 
on  the  great  river  Euphrates.  (Hear!  hear!)  The  friend  of  Caro- 
line, and  the  second  of  Dunearn,f  is  actually  in  the  cabinet,  and  ru- 
mors are  rife  of  Althorp,  and  Graham,  and  Stanley,  and  even — shall 
I  utter  the  degrading  fact?— <>f  Sir  James   Mackintosh.     {Hear! 

*  or  the  Faenlty  of  AdroeatM,  in  Edinburgh.  In  1830,  he  wm  made  J^ord  Adroeate,  (ot 
flrat  law-officer  of  the  Crown,)  under  the  Grejr  Miniitrj^  and,  in  1834,  was  promoted  to  the 
Bcottiih  Bench— M. 

t  The  Karl  of  Roulyn  was  one  of  the  seconds  to  Mr.  Stnart  of  Pnneam,  in  the  dual  with 
Sir  Alexander  BoeweiU  whioh  cost  tha  latter  his  life.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


DE   OMNIBUS.  849 

liearl  hear!)  Young  Gibb  sleeps  with  his  father — the  Battle  of 
Waterloo  is  forgotten  in  the  coming  thunders  of  the  Battle  of  Arma- 
geddon. Spitalfields  are  deserted.  Paisley  is  full  of  woe.  Sir 
Masseh  Manasseh  Lopez  sold  Westbury  to  the  Right  Honorable 
Robert  Peel,  for  the  enormous  sum  of  six  thousand  pounds  sterling. 
(Hear  i  hear!)  Birmingham  is  acquitted  and  remains  with  Captain 
Ives.  A  great  iron  mine  has  just  been  opened  at  Orebro,  in  Sweden 
— the  progress  of  the  lead  mines  in  the  dominions  of  the  Catholic 
King,  is  alarming  in  no  trifling  degree  to  Lord  and  Lady  Stafford, 
who  have  advanced  three  hundred  thousand  to  the  Marquis  of  Angle- 
sea — Captain  Basil  Hall's  travels  are  stereotyped — Lord  Lyndhurst 
is  mentiimed  for  Grand  Mogul ! — Mrs.  Thomas  Peel  has  been  refused 
a  ticket  to  the  great  ball  at  Almacks  !  (Hear  !  hear  !)  The  Rev. 
Edward  Irving  has  been  refused  admission  to  the  General  Assembly 
of  thS  Kirk  of  Scotland — Mr.  Trotter  of  Ballendean  has  been  in  vain 
proposed  for  Provost — Metternich  trembles  at  the  announcement  of 
a  personal  rencontre  with  Arthur  the  Great — Lord  Ellenborough 
advertises  his  villa  at  Putney  in  the  columns  of  the  Morning  Post — 
Sir  William  Rae*  is  talked  of  ft»r  a  shelf — Sir  Henry  Halford  is  in 
daily  attendance  at  Bushy — the  King  appeared  at  Ascot  Races  in  a 
brown  hat — Mr.  Gait  has  returned  at  this  very  moment  from  Cana- 
da— and  Mr.  Thomas  Fretley's  letters  have  shaken  the  Court  of 
Chancery  to  its  centre — Lord  Cringeltie's  interlocutor — Lord  Macken- 
zie's ad  avisandum — the  silence  of  L.  E.  L. — and  the  dulncss  of  the 
John  Bull  during  the  last  fortnight — these,  sir,  are  signs  of  the  times 
to  which  1  shall  merely  point  your  attention.  {Hear!  hear!)  On 
the  whole,  1  think  it  will  not  be  disputed,  that  1  have  made  out  a 
very  triumphant  case — the  issue  is  with  you.  But  I  venture  to  pro- 
pose a  bumper,  fully  relying  upon  your  candor — 1  venture  to  pro- 
pose  a  bumper  which,  under  existing  circumstances,  I  am  sure  you 
will  not  refuse — a  bumper  to  the  health  and  prosperity  of  our  distin- 
guished friend  and  guest  now  in  my  eye,  Mr.  Theodore.  (Oreat 
applause,) 

Omnes.  Mr.  Theodore ! ! !  !  !  !  ! ! !  Three  times  three,  {Air — 
Saw  ye  Johnnie  coming  ?) 

Theodore^  {jumps  to  the  piano-forte  and  chants,) 

Air — Eveleen^s  Bower, 

i  liope,  Mrs.  Muse, 

Vou  will  stiffly  refuse 
To  respond  in  yuur  stniios  to  Mocrabin's  heart ; 

Who  scruples  not  to  say, 

That  the  devil  is  to  pay. 
And  the  glory  of  Britain's  upon  the  start 

*  Lord  Aaroe&te  oi  BcoU«Qd.  In  1899.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


850  NO0TB3  AHBBOSIAK JB. 

Oar  poor  popnlatioQ 

Beiog  giveo  to  propagation, 
He  looks  to  the  rates  with  an  eye  of  ^ 

As  for  plans  of  emigration. 

And  bog  cultivation. 
He  abandons  them  to  Sadler,  Wilmot  Horton,  and  Ca 

He  would  think  it  a  miracle, 

If  much  longer  in  curricle. 
Church  and  State,  more  patrwn^  continued  to  go — 

Their  alliance  undone 

By  an  operative*s  son ; 
iEtna*s  flames  on  his  head — ^in  his  heart  her  snow. 

But  when  lately  a  void 

Was  created  by  Lloyd, 
And  the  breast  of  Pbillpotto  with  hope  beat  high — 

Even  the  Duke  refused  that 

To  the  reverend  rat, 
And  promoted  old  Bagot* — the  King  knows  why. 

Then  the  King  said  nay, 

To  all  mention  of  Grey ; 
And  though  General  Rosslyn  obtained  the  place, 

The  Sovereign  rump'd  him, 

With  a  visage  so  gnm. 
It  gave  sore  tribulation  unto  his  Giuci. 

Then,  the  brave  Cumberland 

Seems  determined  to  stand — 
Spite  of  all  their  manoeuvres — ^by  his  post : 

Which  gives  much  ado 

To  the  Prince  Waterloo, 
Who  was  minded  for  ever  to  rule  our  roast 

O  declare.  I  beseech  1 

Is  it  Wetherell  or  Leach, 
Tliat  is  destined  to  shine  in  Lyndburst*s  seat  I 

And  where  will  Lyndhurst  got. 

And  who  will  be  the  beau 
To  defray  the  expenses  of  that  retreat! 

Fm  perplexed  from  my  soul 

'Bout  the  Seagrave  coal. 
And  Lord  Brecknock  retiring  for  Castlereagh— 

Nor  can  I  understand. 

Why  a  martyr  so  grand 
George  Bankes  should  m  deem'd — since  he  stooped  to  stay. 

Billy  Holmesf  don't  conceal 
That  the  conduct  of  Peel 
Has  put  knot  after  knot  in  his  Masters  yam ; 

*  Dr.  Bafot  wm  made  Bishop  of  Oxford  in  1829— tranilatad  to  Bath  aad  WoUs  ia  18tf ,  sad 
diod  in  1851.— M. 
t  William  HolmM  was  the  Tory  whipper-in  of  tha  Hoom  of  Commons  for  many  yoaxs.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


HERTFORD  AND  HOPKINBON.  851 

And  that  Bob  must  ddp 
From  the  weaverehip, 
Li  a  &ot  which  his  kindred  with  g^ef  discerzL 

O  weep  for  the  day, 

When  from  place  and  Day, 
Back  to  roost  in  his  Rochdale  the  false  Lord  goes ; 

Sure  the  worst  of  the  bad 

Have  a  kick  for  the  Cad 
Who  by  treason  falls,  as  by  cant  he  rose. 

Tis  my  trust  that  the  King, 

Understanding  the  thing, 
Will  ere  long  cheer  his  friends,  and  confomid  his  foes ; 

"  The  Man- wot"  o'erwhelm, 

Summon  Bags  to  the  helm. 
And  a  new  House  of  Commons  for  Lord  Chandos. 

Better  prospects  arise 

Before  loyal  eyes, 
And  in  merrier  mood  than  I  dose  my  strain ; 

Fill  a  bumper  I  pray, 

To  the  coming  day, 
When  the  King  shall  enjoy  his  own  again.    (Oreat  applauie,) 

Odohertj/j  (aside  to  Macrahin,)  Do  you  give  it  up  ? 

Macrabin,  (aside  to  Odoherty,)  Conlbund  bis  glibness  !  My  dear 
Theodore,  you  have  outdone  yourself.  Sir  Morgan  is  really  quite 
jealous. 

Shepherd.  Haud  awa,  baud  awa  wi'  sio  bavers — ^ye're  a'  grand 
cbiels  in  your  ain  gaits — and  now  1  think  Tickler's  beginning  to  look 
a  thought  yaup.     Sail  we  bae  ben  the  cauld  beads,  Mr.  Timothy  1 

Tickler,  By  all  means.  {Rings — enter  Ambrose.)  Supper  im- 
mediately. The  boar's  bead,  the  sheep's  head,  some  lobsters,  the 
strawberries  and  cream,  and  a  bottle  of  champagne. 

{Exit  Ambrose.) 

MuUion,  Drooping  nature  really  begins  to  call  for  some  refresh- 
ment.    {Enter  the  tray,)    Aye,  aye,  Ambrose  was  ready. 

Shepherd,  How  bonnily  they've  dressed  up  the  cauld  porker! 
My  eye,  Mr.  Awmrose,  but  you've  made  a  perfect  flower-bob  of  him. 
Shall  I  help  you,  Theodore  f 

Theodore,  So  be  it.  By  Jupiter,  this  garniture  is  perfectly  Hop- 
kinsonian  !     Give  me  the  ear  also.     Pray,  do—merci. 

Tickler,  Hopkinsonian  ?     Non  intelligo. 

Theodore,  Ha  1  ha !  well,  I  thought  you  must  have  heard  the 
story,  I  protest.  You  must  know,  tny  friend  Hertford,  walking  one 
day  near  his  own  shop  in  Piccadilly,  happened  to  meet  one  Mr. 
Hopkinson,  an  eminent  brewer,  I  believe.  Upon  my  word,  this  is 
better  cold  than  hot,  however — and  the  oonversation  naturally 


Digitized  by 


Google 


3li2  NOCTES   AMBBOSIAN^ 

enough  turned  upon  some  late  dinner  at  the  Albion,  Aldersgate 
street — nobody  appreciates  a  real  city  dinner  better  than  Monsieur 
le  Marquis — and  so  on,  till  the  old  brewer  mentioned, /mzt  hazard^ 
that  he  had  just  received  a  noble  specimen  of  wild  pig  from  a  friend 
in  Frankfort,  adding,  that  he  had  a  very  particular  party,  God  knows 
how  many  aldermen,  to  dinner — half  the  East  India  Direction,  I  be- 
lieve— and  that  he  was  something  puzzled  touching  the  cookery. 
"  Pooh !"  says  Hertford,*  "send  in  your  porker  to  my  man,  and 
he'll  do  it  for  you  d  merveille.^^  The  brewer  was  a  grateful  man — 
the  pork  came — and  went  back  again.  Well,  a  week  after  my  lord 
met  his  friend,  and,  by  the  way,  "  Ilopkinson,"  says  he,  "how  did 
the  boar  concern  go  off]"  "O,  beautifully,"  says  the  brewer;  "I 
can  never  sufficiently  thank  your  lordship ;  nothing  could  do  better. 
We  should  never  have  got  on  at  all  without  your  lordship's  kind 
assistance."  "  The  thing  gave  satisfaction  then,  Ilopkinson  1"  "  O, 
great  satisfaction,  my  lord  marquis.  To  be  sure  we  did  think  it 
rather  queer  at  6rst — in  fact,  not  being  up  to  them  there  things,  we 
considered  it  as  deucedly  stringy — to  say  the  truth,  we  should  never 
have  thought  of  eating  it  cold."  "Cold!"  says  Hertford;  "did 
you  eat  the  ham  cold  1"  "  Oh  dear  yes,  my  lord,  to  be  sure  we 
did — we  eat  it  just  as  your  lordship's  gentleman  sent  it."  "  Why, 
my  dear  Mr.  Alderman,"  says  Hertford,  "my  cook  only  prepared 
it  for  the  spit"  Well,  1  shall  never  forget  how  the  poor  dear  Duke 
of  York  laughed! 

Sliepherd,  O  the  heathens !  did  they  really  eat  the  meat  raw? 

Theodore.  As  raw  as  you  sit  there,  my  hearty.  Come,  another 
slice. 

Macrabin,  Ha !  a  cork  started  !  Quick,  Mullion !  The  chani> 
pagne !     Tumblers !     Ambrose,  more  of  that. 

{N.B,     Conversation  for 

some  time  not  audible 

in  the  cvpboard.) 

Odoherty,  This  is  the  right  Fort.  Except  John  at  the  Salopian,! 
I  really  don't  know  any  body  to  compare  with  you  in  a  hot  bowl. 

Tickler,  1  pique  myself  more  on  the  cold — but  that  you  Mun- 
Bterians  never  appreciate. 

ShepJierd,  Thraw  the  wand  when  it's  green,  Timotheus. 

Tickler.  Now  hand  me  the  cigars — do  you  prefer  the  pipe  or  the 
naked  beauties,  Theodore] 

TIteodore.  1  never  smoke — {f^gh!) — This  punch  is  blameless,  sir. 
This  does  you  honor — you  would  corrupt  me,  if  1  stayed  among  you 
long — you  would  corrupt  me — 1  protest — quite  delicious  — 

*  Th«  proflif&U  Marquis  of  Hartford,  th«  orig^inal  of  Thackoraj'i  oft-repeaUd  Marqnis  ot 
Sleyne.     He  \t  the  lA)rd  Yarmouth  of  Moor«'s  Two  ponny  Poat-ba^.— M. 

t  John  wo*  a  waiter  in  the  Salopian  Cotfee-house,  London,  famous  for  mxkinfr  ffood  ounol^ 
tod  for  recollecting,  at  once,  the  face  of  every  man  who  had  erer  slept  in  the  house.— li. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


TORYISM.  80S 

Shepherd.  Corrupt  you !  my  certy,  we  wad  do  you  a  great  deal  o' 
gude,  my  man  ;  we  wad  clean  cure  you  o'  the  fine  gentleman,  'at  we 
would — and  we  would  gar  ye  shew  your  teeth  in  anither  fashion. 
A  man  just  gets  a  bairn  for  the  matter  o'  birr  and  venom  when  ho 
bides  lang  up  yonder — ye' re  just  naething  ava'  noo  to  what  ye  were 
when  ye  first  corned  hame. 

Tickler,  Nonsense — we  all  adapt  ourselves  unconsciously  to  the 
circle  we  mix  in.  Every  place  has  its  own  tone — said  Edinburgh 
and  London  are  four  hundred  miles  apart. 

Macrabin.  Thank  God  ! 

Theodore.  Inverness,  I  presume,  is  still  nearer  the  centre  of  civili- 
zation. Well,  I  can't  stand  this  any  longer — hand  me  the  cigars — 
self-defence  is  a  duty — you  may  send  round  the  jug,  too,  Mr.  Ticicler, 

Shepherd,  There's  a  man — now,  dinna  be  blawin'  ower  fass  at  the 
beginning — there — ^gently,  gently,  a  sma'  quiet  sook,  hardly  mair 
nor  the  natural  breathin' — look  at  me. 

Theodore.  A  perfect  zephyr. 

Shepherd.  Look  at  him — as  I  sail  answer,  he  can  send  the  smoke 
out  at  his  nostrils— na,  losh  keep  us!  he's  up  to  every  thing — there 
it's  puffin'  out  at  the  lug  next ! 

Theodore,  Teach  the  Patriarchs,  and  multiply. 

Tickler,  Fill,  Odoherty — and  pass.  Are  you  and  Theodore  going 
into  the  Highlands  ? 

Odoherty.  Not  we,  truly — we  have  other  fish  to  fry.  I  say,  with 
Old  Captain  Morris, 

«  The  sweet  shady  side  of  Pali-Mall  "— 

I'm  off  to  town  again,  next  steamboat ;  the  approaching  Dissolution 
will  not  permit  any  further  extension  of  our  tour  just  at  present. 

Tickler,  What  did  you  think  of  the  result? 

Odoherty,  O,  a  roaring  Protestant  House  of  Commons,  as  sure  as 
a  gun — a  good  strong  Tory  government,  without  which,  indeed,  the 
country  cannot  and  will  not  hang  together  for  many  months  more. 
The  King  enjoying  his  own  again,  and  Liberalism  at  a  discount  in 
Westminster  as  much  as  everywhere  else — the  Church  is  mustering 
all  her  strength,  and  woe  to  the  Papists  when  the  tussle  comes ! 

Tickler,  You  may  flatter  yourself  as  you  please — my  opinion  is, 
that  the  utter  want  of  Talent,  Courage,  and  Union,  which  has  caused 
the  present  condition  of  the  Tory  party,  will  keep  it  where  it  is. 
With  grief  do  I  say  it,  I  adhered  to  that  party,  boy  and  man,  through 
evil  report  and  through  good  report,  for  sixty  years,  sir ;  I  served  it 
zealously  with  tongue  and  pen,  and  bayonet  and  halbert  too,  and  it 
never  did  any.  thing  for  me.  Heaven  knows ;  and  I  adhere  to  it  still 
— I  share  its  discomfiture — I  cannot  share  your  hopes;  it  is  down, 
down,  down,  for  my  time,  at  any  rate.  You  are  young  men — you 
may  live  to  see  better  times. 
Yoh.  m.— 24 


Digitized  by 


Google 


854  NOOTES   AMBBOSIAN^ 

Theodore.  You  must  all  be  delighted  to  know  that  the  King  is  well 
— really  well.  I  was  near  his  person  half-an-hour  on  Thursday,  at 
Ascot,  and  1  give  you  my  honor  his  Majesty  never  looked  better  in 
my  remembrance  ;  complexion  clear,  eye  bright,  the  whole  presence 
and  bearing  as  full  of  life  and  vigor  as  of  grace  and  dignity.  This  is 
one  great  consolation  to  us  all.* 

Odoherty,  His  life  is  worth  two  of  the  Duke  of  Clarence's.  But 
still,  the  question  of  the  Regency  begins  to  be  an  anxious  one. 
People  must  be  expected,  in  these  times,  to  look  a  leetle  beyond 
their  noses. 

Tickler,  Why,  how  can  there  be  any  question  ?  Upon  what 
pretence  could  the  Duke  of  Cumberland  be  passed  over, — the  next  in 
order;  the  first,  certainly  in  talent;  and,  without  all  doubt,  the 
steadiest  in  principle  among  those  of  his  royal  line  who  would  then 
be  left  to  us  ? 

Odoherty,  Why,  you  are  aware,  he  would  then  be  King  of  Han- 
over. 

Tickler,  And  is  that  an  objection  %  His  son,  of  course,  marries 
the  Princess  Victoria.f  I  hope  they'll  alter  that  outlandish  name,  by 
the  way. 

Odoherty,  Mj  dear  friend,  thereat  the  rub.  Young  Cumberland, 
or  young  Cambridge?  On  one  side,  the  royal  family  (with  one  ex- 
ception, of  course)  and  the  people  of  England — and  the  people  of 
Hanover,  too,  (for  they're  not  such  spoons  as  to  wish  to  be  left  to 
the  tender  mercies  of  Prussia) ;  on  the  other,  the  Duke  !  Do  you 
begin  to  see  daylight? 

Theodore.  Aye,  you've  laid  your  hand  on  the  point  now. 

Shepherd,  An'  sud  na  the  King  himsell  settle  a'  the  like  o'  that? 

Odoherty.  Before  the  flood,  Ireland  was  a  pota^-garden.  Fill  my 
glass.  You  see,  sir,  here  is  a  delicate  business,  rather,  for  rough 
practitioners.  And  you  will  admit,  on  the  whole,  that  the  whiskered 
Duke  has  some  pretty  considerable  cause  to  be  in  no  great  hurry 
about  returning  to  Berlin  ? 

Tickler,  They  talked  of  his  having  the  Horse  Guards. 

Odoherty.  Stuff,  my  dear,  stuff.  Nobody  will  have  the  Horse 
Guards — as  The  old  Times  truly  said  when  the  Prince  of  Waterloo's 
reign  began — except  some  Lord  Hill, J  or  Lord  Dale,  that  his  High- 
ness can  canter  over,  as  seemeth  good  to  his  spurs.  Perhaps  the 
good-natured  Duke  of  Cambridge,  influenced,  as  he  must  be,  by  cer- 
tain considerations  already  touched  upon,  might  be  reckoned  sufii- 

*  It  happened,  howerer,  tkat  Georre  lY.  died  in  June,  1830,  and  the  Duke  of  Clarene*,  irho 
then  became  William  IV.,  snnrived  him  seven  yean. — M. 

t  I'h*  Duke  of  Cumberland  was  not  made  Regent,  (he  became  Kin^  of  Hanorer  on  the  death 
of  William  IV..  in  1837 ;)  and  Victoria,  who  preservei  her  "outlandish  name,"  did  not  many 
her  cousin  of  Cumberland,  nor  yet  of  Cambridge.  At  this  time,  when  the  Ambroei&ns  war* 
epeculatinff  on  her  marriage,  the  little  lady  waa  ten  fart  old! — M. 

X  Lord  Hill  had  the  HorM  Quarda,  aa  Commander^in-ohief,  from  1896  to  1848.~M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


WELLINGTON.  355 

ciently  en  tenue^  for  an  experiment  at  last.  But  who^  that  looks  to 
the  great  question  we  have  been  talking  of,  and  looks  also  to  the 
noble,  correct,  and  vigorous  appearance*  of  that  true  get  of  George 
the  Third  himself  personally,  will  ever  dream  for  a  moment  of  the 
Duke  of  Cumberland  having  the  Horse  Guards,  while  the  Duke  of 
Wellington  has  Downing-street — I  beg  his  Grace's  pardon — has 
England,  Scotland,  and  Ireland,  with  the  Town  of  Berwick-upon- 
Tweed,  and  all  other  dependencies  thereunto  belonging?  The  Duke 
will  have  no  other  voice  but  his  own  any  where — and  I'm  sure,  after 
all  that  has  come  and  gone,  you'll  be  sorry  to  hear  that  the  enor- 
mous fatigue  to  which  he  is  condemned  by  his  system  of  keeping  all 
vou^  but  his  own  at  a  distance,  is  already  telling  visibly — most  visi- 
bly—even on  that  iron  frame.  He  looks  ten  years  older  at  this 
hour  than  he  did  when  the  Duke  of  Rutland's  speech  killed  poor 
Canning. 

Tickler.  No  speeches  will  kill  him. 

Odoherty,  No,  truly — but  this  overwork — he's  at  it,  I  hear,  full 
sixteen  hours  out  of  the  four-and*twenty,  and  plays  dandy  besides — 
this  horrid  overwork  will  act  even  on  his  nerves  ;f  and  thoroughly 
as  he  may  despise  the  talking  of  the  House  of  Commons,  and  the 
jabber  of  the  press,  I  cannot  easily  believe  that  his  proud  heart  will 
endure  long  the  marked  dislike  of  his  master,  and  the  settled  coldness 
of  the  Tory  aristocracy.  Nobody  knows  better  than  he  where  the 
real  pith  of  England  lies — nobody  need  tell  him,  that  the  only  party 
which  at  present  gives  his  government  any  support,  is  the  very  party 
which,  for  forty  years  at  least,  has  been  identifred  with  the  principle 
o^  revolution — nobody  need  tell  him  what  must  be  the  consequences 
of  a  continued  and  effective  alliance  with  that  party,  opposed  fierce^ 
ly  by  all  the  mor^  zealous  of  the  other,  and  aided  by  none  of  the 
other,  (for  I  count  -a  few  cowardly  place-holders  and  place-hunters 
at  their  worth.) 

Tickler.  The  Duke  must  have  made  up  his  mind. 

Odoherty.  Yes,  to  one  of  three  things ;  either  to  identify  himself 
thoroughly  with  the  Whigs — which  he  cannot  do  without  giving 
them  3ie  places — which  he  cannot  do  without  turning  out  the  reels, 
Herrieses,  Goulburns — in  themselves  nobodies  at  all  times,  and  now 
mere  nobodies,  so  making  room  for  Brougham,  Mackintosh,  and  the 

*  With  hii  immense  irhite  moustaches,  forests  of  whiskerSf  AtLgrj  eyebro-ws,  and  sinister 
look,  the  Dake  of  Cnmberl&nd  irss  one  of  the  most  nn-English  looking  men  in  London^  at 
that  time  ;  but  he  was  a  rabid  politician,  and  extreme  Tory,  and  the  Ambrosians  puffed  him 
accordingly.— M. 

t  The  prophecies  at  the  Noctes  were  Tery  unfortunate.  Few  of  them  were  fulfilled.  In 
1820,  the  Duke  of  Wellington  was  sixty  years  old  :— if  •♦oTsrwork"'  killed  him,  it  must  hare 
been  by  ▼c'T  'lo^  degrees,  for  he  sunriTod  until  September,  1858.  a  neriod  of  ttptntf-tkret  femrt  t 
— In  1835,  when  the  Otobt  newvpaper,  in  rery  bad  taste,  remarkea  that  Peel  was  looking  iU 
and  haggard  from  the  difficaities  ot  his  position,  all  the  ConsenratiTe  journals  attacked  it,  for 
imagining  and  desiring  Peel's  death :  one  ana  all  had  forgotten  how  Blmekwod  had  allur' 
ded,  in  like  manner,  to  th«>i.  'aTorite  Wellington.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


856  N0CIB8  AMBSOSIAN^ 

rest  of  the  frjy  and  admitting  old  Grej  to  at  least  a  subordinate 
oonsulate  ;*  or  to  get  back  the  Tories,  which  he  cannot  do  without 
turning  out  all  the  inferior  Rats,  and  filling  his  cabinet  with  the  El- 
dons,  the  Sadlers,  the  Chandoses — in  other  words,  returning  to  the 
point  from  which  he  started  !  or,  lastly,  attempt  to  carry  on  the  ex- 
isting system,  which  he  well  knows  he  cannot  do  through  another 
session  of  Parliament,  without  taking  some  effectual  means  to  • 
strengthen  his  hands  in  the  Commons — in  other  words,  take  Huskis- 
son  and  his  tail  again  into  favor. 

Tickler.  Why,  no  doubt,  Husky  would  now  be  preferred  to  Peel.f 

Odoherty,  By  all  parties.  He  has  talents — he  has  tact — ^he  eotM 
manage  a  decently  manageable  House  of  Commons  very  fiiirly,  I 
don't  question — and  indeed,  if  I  saw  a  pure  Tory  government  form- 
ing to-morrow,  I  should  be  sorry  if  Huskisson  were  not  allowed  to 
eat  some  of  his  theories,  and  make  part  of  it. 

Theodore,  He  has  had  his  lesson,  and  would  not  again  tamper,  as 
he  used  to  do,  with  good  old  Liverpool — ^'running  about,*'  as  Sam 
Rogers  said,  ^^  with  a  resignation  at  half-cock  in  his  pocket.^ 

Odoherty,  No — no  ;  but  then  there's  Palmerston — who,  by  the 
by,  has  lately  shown  himself  to  be  a  much  cleverer  fellow  than  I 
used  to  take  him  for — and  there's  Charles  Grant — a  lazy  sumph,  but 
a  good  speaker,  and  not  to  be  openly  spurned  by  Husky  for  many 
reasons — and  Lord  Dudley— cleverer  than  them  all  put  together,  and 
every  way  more  influential.|  You  perceive  this  orew  could  not  be 
got  in  without  a  sad  scattering  of  the  incumbency  — 

Tickler.  Which  heaven  send  us  !  We  could  never  be  worse,  any 
how.     But  the  Chancellor 

Odoherty,  Pooh!  pooh!  that  cock  will  make  no  fight  Whatever 
happens  as  to  others,  he's  gone — gone — gone.  The  whole  of  the 
bar  are  against  him  to  a  man,  and  the  Duke  is  not  the  lad  to  brave 
a  body  like  that  (even  were  there  nothing  more,)  without  a  tangi* 
ble  quid  pro  quo.  In  God's  name,  what  strength  can  any  govern- 
ment derive  from  a  man,  whose  character  did  not  sink  one  peg  in 
public  estimation,  upon  the  commission  of  perhaps  the  most  flagrant 
act  of  rattery  exemplified  in  human  biography,!  Peel's  excepted? 

Shepherd.  Weel,  I  hope  we'll  hae  a  gude  harvest    Od  sirs,  if 

*  Lord  tUej  would  not  bold  a  rabordin&to  ntn&tioii.  He  attaoked  Canning,  in  1827,  for 
Uking  th«  Fremienhip,  which  he  (Grey)  looked  fores  hie  own  partr  inheritance. — ^Bf. 

t  Except  by  the  ultra-Liberals,  who  identified  him  with  Free  Trade,  of  which  ke  was  the 
advocate,  Huskiiaon  would  have  been  welcomed  back  into  office  by  nobody. — M. 

X  Palmerston  has  fulfilled  the  expectations  here  expressed.  Charles  Grant  went  into  office  in 
1830,  but  did  little — hit  habits  of  laziness  were  unconquerable — and  eventually  retired  on  a 
peerage  (as  Lord  Glenelg)  and  a  pension.— Lord  Dudley,  with  great  talents,  was  occasionally 
iiSM  compos  menti». — M. 

II  Copley  was  originslly  a  strong  LiberaL  Accepting  place,  he  adopted  Twy  principle^ 
and,  up  to  the  close  of  1828,  violently  opposed  Catholic  Emancipation.  In  1827,  as  Chancellor 
nnder  Canning,  ke  became  Lord  Lyndhurst.  Retained  in  office  by  ^Tke  Duke,"  ka  dtiaadtd 
Catkolie  Enuneipation,  in  1829,  aa  wanuly  «a  ka  kad  pKariooslj  laaiBtad  it—lC 


Digitized  by 


Google 


'  GLEAB  THB  OUFBOASD.  S57 

ye'U  fill  our  waims  weel,  we  puir  bodies  will  e'en  let  your  kings  and 
a'  their  creatures  sink  or  swim  as  they  list.  Let's  hae  anither  bowl, 
however. 

Macrabin,  Mr.  Chairman,  I  move  the  standing  orderi  that  the 
cupboard  of  this  house  be  now  cleared ! 


Digitized  by 


Google 


358  NOCTEB  AKBB06IAN^ 


No.  XLVL— SEPTEMBER,  1829. 

Sederunt — Christopher    North,   Esq. ;   Timothy  Tickler,  Esq. ; 
The  Shepherd  ;  Peter  Macrabin,  Esq. ;  Rev.  Dr.  Wodrow. 

North.  It  is  very  well  for  old  fellows  like  you  and  me,  Timotheus, 
to  croon  away  in  this  fashion — the  burden  of  our  song  being,  in  sum 
and  substance,  no  more  than  poor  Vinny  Bourne's 

**  Sunt  res  humans  flebile  ludibrium** — 

But  here  is  the  Doctor,  honest  man,  with  two  strapping  younkers 
on  his  hands — what  is  he  to  do  with  them  ? 

Macrabin,  A  practical  question,  my  cock,  and  one  not  to  be  an- 
swered with  an  ochone. 

Tickler,  Pass  the  bottle.  Kit. 

Wodrow.  Aye,  aye,  Mr.  North — there's  the  rub— what's  to  be 
done  wi'  them  ?  There's  Jemmy  has  won  I  kenna  how  mony  prizes, 
and  noo  the  Natural  class  is  over,  it  really  comes  to  be  a  matter  o' 
downright  necessity  for  me  to  determine  on  something.  He*s  not 
indisposed  for  the  ministry,  that  I  allow  ;  but  Tammas  is  only  a 
year  and  a  half  behint  him,  and  he's  very  delicate.  Tarn  always 
was  a  weakly  thing  in  the  body  from  his  verra  cradle,  as  I  may  say 
— he's  just  keen  for  the  kirk  again.  And  now,  ye  see,  Mr.  North, 
the  case  is  this.  I  was  tutor  to  Sir  John,  uncle  to  the  present  Sir 
John,  and  that  was  the  way  I  got  the  presentation  ;  and  I  dinna 
doubt,  that  if  I  had  a  son  a  preacher,  and  weel  spoken  of,  belyve, 
as  years  are  wearing  awa'  wi'  us  a',  hech,  sirs  !  Sir  John,  I  daur 
say,  would  not  be  indisposed  to  let  him  come  in  as  assistant  and  suo- 
cessor.  I  have  no  positive  promise,  sir,  but  I  think  1  have  reason  to 
consider  this  as  pretty  certain. 

North,  No  doubt  at  all,  Doctor. 

Wodrow.  But  then,  Mr.  North,  there's  the  question  again — if  (hey 
baith  gaed  to  the  Hall,  and  were  licensed  in  due  season,  which  o' 
them  would  get  the  place  ?  and  what  might  come  o'  the  other  ? 

Shepherd.  Aye,  doctor,  there's  mony  an  ill  tredd ;  but  a  black 
coat  without  the  bands  is  the  very  puirest  o'  the  haill  tot. 

Macrabin.  A  doubtful  case— and  a  deep— nor  to  be  settled  with- 
out all  due  appliances  and  means. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


PASISH  ALLOWANCE.  859 

Tickler,  How  many  chalders  did  the  last  augmentation  come  to, 
Doctor  ? 

Wodrotu.  Why,  Mr.  Tickler,  I  certainly  thought  I  was  entitled  to 
sixteen  chalder,*  and  Mr.  Jeemes  Moncrieff— (I  beg  pardon,  >  mean 
Lord  Moncrieff — but  he  was  then  only  Mr.  tJeemes — for  it  was  in 
Sir  Harry's  time,  honest  man) — Lord  Moncrieff,  he  was  clearly  of 
that  opinion  :  and  indeed  Lord  Pitmilly  took  notice  of  one  circum- 
stance that  one  would  have  thought  might  have  satisfied  any  unpre- 
judeezed  understanding,  namely,  ye  see,  sir,  that  Mr.  Biackie,  of 
Middlecairny,  the  very  next  incumbent,  sir,  wi'  a  considerably 
smaller  parish,  a  population  decidedly  inferior  in  amount,  sir,  and 
comparatively  speaking,  no  style  is  necessary  to  be  supported — for 
there's  no  resident  proprietor  in  Middlecairny  aboon  the  degree  of  a 
bonnet-laird,  as  we  say — Mr.  Biackie,  sir,  as  Lord  Pitmilly  observed, 
had  fourteen  chalder,  and  a  glebe  of  thirty  acres,  all  fine  arable. 
But  ye  see,  sir,  in  the  Teind  Coort  noo-a-days,  business  is  often  run 
through  in  a  very  hurried  ramshakely  fashion — I  believe  that's 
allowed.  I  would  not  misca'  no  man,  nor  no  court,  sir,  with  my 
will — but  really  when  the  haill  fifteen  are  together,  there's  such  a 
crushing  and  bustle  that  the  most  important  affairs  are  occasionally, 
as  it  were,  treated  in  a  very  lightly  go-the-by  sort  of  a  fashion,  sir. 
It's  owre  true. 

TickUr.  What  did  they  give  ye.  Doctor !     Pass  the  bottle,  Hogjg. 

Wodrow,  Very  excellent  good  claret  wine,  indeed,  Mr.  North  ! — 
hem  ! — hem  !  And  then,  as  I  was  saying,  Lord  Cragie  he  remarked 
— he  was  always  a  sound-headed  man,  that — that  it  consisted  with 
his  knowledge,  that  a  minister  in  so  large  a  parish  as  Betherellstane, 
abound  in'  in  sic  a  respectable  circle  o'  families,  bond  to  and  must 
have  charges  to  meet  entirely  beyond  what  could  fall  on  the  incum- 
bent of  Middlecairny,  where  all  the  land  is  the  Duke's,  as  you  know, 
an'  be  not  a  few  little  portioners  on  the  Blae  Burnside.  And  then 
Lord  Balgray,  honest  gentleman — Mr.  Dauvid  Williamson  that  was, 
— he  aye  likes  his  joke  ;  he  said,  quo'  he,  he  didna  pretend  to  be  ony 
great  critic  as  to  sermons,  but  he  could  answer  for  ae  thing,  that 
there  was  ne'er  a  minister  in  the  Carse  gied  a  better  dinner  than  the 
Minister  o'  Betherellstane — ha !  ha  !  ha  ! — and  then  Lord  Meadow- 
bank,  the  young  man  that  noo  is,  he  jogget  his  neighbor  and  leugh 
— and  my  Lord  President  he  leugh,  and  Justice  Clerk  he  grunted 
too,  and  blew  himself  up  and  botched  again — and  Lord  Gillies  he 
flung  himself  back  in  his  chair,  and  winked  his  een,  and  then  fixed 
them  on  the  roof,  and  then  he  yawnit  before  the  haill  fifteenf — ance, 
twice,  thrice,  as  if  he  was  ettled  to  rive  his  very  jaw  off — and  Lord 


*  Of  grain, — the  Scottish  clergy  being  paid  in  kind  (or  bj  a  oommntation)  and  a  otrtais 
lantity  of  glebe  land  ;  so  a  nx^  harvest  imporerishes  clergymen. — M. 
t  The  Fifteen  j  the  whole  Judicial  staff  of  Sootland.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


S60  N00TE8  AMBBOSUK  A 

Gorehonse  there  he  sat  up  as  stiff  and  prim  as  a  poker,  his  round 
gleg  een  twinkle-twinklin'  back  and  forrit,  and  his  face  and  lips  as 
plaucid  as  a  print  o'  butter — and  then  — 

Tickler,  The  interlocutor,  Doctor,  the  interlocutor. 

Macrabin.  lam  astonished  at  your  proceedings,  Mr.  Tickler.  Sir, 
we  have  not  yet  heard  the  statement  of  the  other  side  of  the  bar.  I 
appeal  to  Mr.  North,  if  we  can  expect  to  come  to  a  fair  view  of  thb 
question — this  very  delicate,  I  must  say,  and  important  question, 
unless  my  reverend  father  on  my  right  be  permitted  to  go  on  «ma- 
tim — step  by  step. 

Tickler,  O,  a  thousand  pardons — ^I  meant  nothing  of  the  kind— 
perge,  Doctor. 

S/upherd.  What  is  the  stipend.  Dr.  Wodrow  1 — and,  Fm  saying, 
help  yoursell,  hinny. 

Wodroto.  Exceeding  delicate  claret  wine,  certainly  ! — hem.  Weel, 
gentlemen,  ye  may  think  it  does  not  set  the  like  o'  us  to  be  com- 
pleenin'  about  sic  like  things,  but  I've  a  sair  pinch  to  gar  the  tway 
ends  meet  sometimes,  that  I  promise  ye.  What  wi'  my  wife's  wee 
black  beukie,  and  the  tax-loons,  sirs,  and  the  tailor  and  shoe-maker, 
and  Mr.  Albert  Cay's  account — for  I  maun  aye  hae  a  bottle  of  good 
port  and  sherry  i'  the  Manse — we  could  never  thole  to  want  that — 
and  the  tway  callant  in  by  at  the  college  here  a'  winter,  though  I'm 
sure  I  would  never  even  them  to  ony  thing  like  an  extravagance — 
really,  Mr.  Hogg,  what  with  ae  thing  and  anither,  sma'  and  great — 
and  I  must  observe,  by-the-by,  that  I  think  it's  a  sin  to  gar  Ministers' 
sons  pay  fees  at  ony  University.      • 

Macrabin.  I  quite  agree  wi'  you  as  to  the  fees,  Doctor.  Why  not 
try  an  overture  ? 

Ilo(/^,  But  the  stipend — the  stipend  ? 

Wodrow,  Aye,  true,  I  forgot  that.  Well,  Mr.  Hogg,  would  ye 
believe  it  ?  they  gave  me  after  all  only  twelve  chalder,  and  my  glebe 
is  a  mere  kail -yard  to  the  like  of  Middlecairny — no  aboon  eighteen 
acre,  and  weet,  plashy  dirt  of  ground,  the  maist  feck  o't — wadna 
bring  ten  shillings  an  acre,  as  I  shall  answer. 

Jforik,  There  is  nothing  that  surprises  me  more  than  the  suo> 
cessful  manner  in  which  our  Scotch  clergy  contend  against  fortune 
— the  res  angusta  domij  I  mean — in  bringing  up  their  families.  Look 
to  what  walk  of  life  you  will,  not  only  here  at  home,  but  all  over 
the  colonies,  and  indeed  I  might  say  in  England  itself  too,  and  you 
shall  find  no  class  more  honorably  represented  than  the  bairns  of  the 
Manse. 

Wodrow,  It's  very  true,  Mr.  North.  We  hae  a  hard  tussle,  but 
the  event  shows,  under  God's  good  blessing,  that  it's  no  spurring 
the  dead  horse.  Weel,  wha  kens  what  my  tway  lads  may  come  to 
yet?    I'm  sometimes  thinking  o' breeding  Jeemes  to  the  bar,  but 


Digitized  by 


Google 


THE  EDINBUBGH  BAB.  361 

they've  been  raising  the  fees  sairlj  of  late,  and  I'm  told  it's  a  lang 
time  ere  amaist  ony  o'  them  can  win  their  bread,  dp  as  they  will. 

Tickler.  The  raising  of  the  fees  of  admittance  was  considered 
necessary.  Doctor,  because  my  own  body,  the  W.  S.'s,  had  raised 
theirs.  In  particular  cases,  the  change  will,  no  doubt,  operate  to  the 
disadvantage  of  the  bar  and  the  public ;  but,  on  the  whole,  it  would 
not  have  done  to  have  the  bar  cheaper  of  entrance  than  the  inferior 
branch  of  the  law,  as  Mr.  Macrabin  here  would  call  it. 

North.  God  knows,  they  are  both  far  enough  below  what  you  and 
I  can  remember  them. 

Tickler.  Yes,  truly.  Nothing  can  stop  that.  We  are  but  follow- 
ing here,  as  everywhere  else,  in  the  footsteps  of  our  neighbors.  The 
English  Bar  is  degenerating  d  vue  cTobH — woefully — sinking  fast  into  a 
mere  trade.  Did  you  read  some  capital  paragraphs  on  that  head  in 
the  Standard  lately] 

North.  I  read  every  thing  that  is  in  The  Standard.  That  paper, 
sirs,  is  an  honor  to  the  country — the  ablest  that  I  ever  remember  to 
have  seen — and,  I  think,  as  upright  as  able.  The  command  of  knowl- 
edge, deep,  accurate,  and  pat  as  pancakes,  on  every  topic  that 
turns  up,  is  truly  surprising  ;  the  strong,  plain,  masculine  English 
of  the  Doctor's  style,*  presents  as  great  a  contrast  to  the  usual  vein 
of  our  leading  article-mongers,  as  a  pillar  in  Westminster  Abbey 
does  to  a  plaster  pilaster  in  Regent-street.  1  read  the  passages  you 
mention  with  great  interest,  and,  remembering  the  days  of  my  youth, 
when  I  hung  out  for  a  season  in  the  Temple  Gardens,  with  consider- 
able pain.  But,  as  you  say,  we  have  the  same  work  going  on  before 
our  eyes  here  in  the  Parliament  House. 

Tickler.  Plenty  of  clever  working  Attorneys  among  the  rising 
brood  of  Advocates — but  devil  a  one — beg  your  pardon.  Doctor — 
not  one  that  I  have  heard  of,  of  the  real  old  cut — uniting  the  range 
of  the  scholar  with  the  tact  of  the  pleader.  The  people  of  my  own 
old  calling  tell  me  they  gain  little  or  nothing  nowadays  by  consulta- 
tions, and  only  a  mouthpiece  for  their  own  memorials  when  the 
affair  comes  into  Court — hence  the  system  they  are  adopting.  I 
hear,  Macrabin,  that  it  is  quite  the  custom  for  an  Agent  to  clap  a 
gown  on  the  back  of  one  of  his  apprentices,  or  clerks,  and  so  walk 
him  into  the  Parliament  House  to  do  his  business,  upon  a  private 
understanding  as  to  the  qttantulum  of  fees. 

Macrabin.  So  they  say — God  knows. 

North,  This  won't  go  on  long  without  telling  visibly  on  the  cha- 
racter of  the  profession.  Come  some  really  great  case — such  a  one 
as  the  Douglas  cause,  now — and  where  should  we  be  1  Cranstoun, 
Moncriefl^  Fullarton,  are  all  on  the  bench — John  More  must  be  so 
forthwith — Jeffrey,  with  all  his  talents  and  eloquence,  is  no  lawyer 

*  7U  SCoiulartf,— London  orening  papor,  oditod  by  Br.  Lees  Oiffard  ftnd  Dr.  Maginn.— BL 


Digitized  by 


Google 


362  irocnn  ambbosiak^ 

to  speak  of— but  he'll  be  on  the  bench  too— and,  in  feet,  upon  mj 
word,  I  don't  know  where  one  would  look. 

Tickler,  Macrabin,  confound  ye,  ye  don't  read  enough,  man ;  if 
you  did,  you  might  fit  yourself  for  any  thing  in  three  years. 

Macrabin.  Pass  the  Bordeaux.  If  I  had  a  son  old  enough,  I 
should  prefer  making  him  a  W.  S.,  I  admit. 

North,  Why,  go  where  one  may,  they  certainly  seem  to  be  get- 
ting the  soil  of  old  Mother  Caledonia  into  their  clutches.  By  Jupi- 
ter !  in  fifty  years  more,  if  this  goes  on  the  doers  will  have 
uprooted  the  Terrarum  Domini, 

Maa-abin,  And  small  the  scaith.  A  poor  set.  Totally  devoid  of 
all  real  pride  and  independence  of  spirit.  Only  look  at  our  county 
representation.  Had  those  lads  been  chosen  by  free-hearted  elec- 
tors— had  they  had  the  fear  of  a  day  of  reckoning  with  honest  men 
bef )re  their  eyes,  would  they  have  dared,  think  ye,  to  wheel  round 
as  they  did,  at  the  first  tap  of  the  Duke's  drum  ?  I  think  there 
were  forty -one  sheer  rats — and  rats  "  yard-long-tailed,"  ut  ffommet 
loquar — among  our  beautiful  forty -five. 

Shepherd.  That  has  aye  been  a  sair  number  for  auld  Scotland. 
Weel,  weel,  what  signifies  speaking  ?  The  writer's  son,  Peter,  will 
be  just  sic  another  laird  as  the  right  heir  wad  hae  been.  It*s  won- 
derfu'  how  easily  fok  tak  to  that  trade. 

Tickler.  I  ascribe  the  evil— for,  begging  the  Shepherd's  pardon,  it 
in,  and  will  be  found  to  be,  a  great  evil — I  ascribe  it  mainly  to  the 
Union.  That  accursed  measure  has  done  Scotland  no  good — 1  know 
it  is  the  fashion  to  talk  and  write  quite  otherwise,  even  among  those 
who  pass  with  others,  and  perhaps  with  themselves,  for  the  Scotia 
simi  Scotorum.  But  such  is  my  belief,  and  I  have  watched  the  ope- 
ration of  the  aflfair  much  longer  than  any  of  those  that  nowadays  lift 
up  tongue  and  pen  in  its  laudation. 

North.  Why,  the  Union  has  certainly  done  us  much  harm — ^but 
does  not  the  good  overbalance  that, — candidly  now  ? — Capital  intro^ 
duced — trade  encouraged.  But  you  know  the  whole  story  as  well 
as  I,  Timothy. 

Tickler.  Peradventure.  Capital  introduced  1  when  f  how  ? — ^I 
know  of  no  English  capital  worth  talking  about,  that  ever  was  intro- 
duced into  Scotland,  except  indeed  by  Scotsmen,  who  made  for- 
tunes in  the  south,  and  then  came  home  again.  But  they  might,  and 
would  have  done  all  that,  though  there  had  been  no  Union.  Then 
as  to  trade — why,  the  English  did  every  thing  to  prevent  our  having 
any  access  to  a  colonial  market.  Need  1  refer  to  the  black  and 
bloody  tale  of  Darien  f  And  then,  only  look  at  the  whole  manage- 
ment  of  Our  Colonial  Empire— I  say  our^  for  oier»itis — British,  not 
English.  Have  not  our  neighbors  studiously  and  diligently  noted 
ab  ova  on  the  principle  of  their  being  not  British,  but  English  ?   Look 


Digitized  by 


Google 


B00TTI8H  TTBIQUmr   IN  OFFIOB.  863 

at  their  laws — their  church  establishments — where  have  they  any  ? 
Why,  even  in  the  army  and  navy— don't  I  remember,  only  thirty 
years  ago,  I  believe  later,  it  was  the  law  of  the  land,  that  every 
gentleman,  on  receiving  the  King  of  Great  Britain's  commission, 
should  qualify  by  taking  the  sacrament  according  to  the  ritual  of 
the  Church  of  ^igland«  Could  insult— could  injustice  be  more 
glaring  ? 

North.  That's  done  away  with,  however. 

Tickler,  Aye ;  not,  however,  out  of  any  growing  liberality  as  to 
Old  Scotland — but  only  out  of  that  growing  indifference  to  every 
thing  connected  with  churches  in  general,  in  other  words,  to  the 
Christian  Religion,  which  may  be  traced  as  palpably  in  almost  every 
other  department  of  recent  legislation.  Trade  encouraged,  indeed  ! 
why,  look  to  the  Bank  of  England — founded  in  the  teeth  of  all  the 
English  prejudices  of  the  time  by  an  immortal  Scotsman — is  it  not 
a  standing  order  with  the  National  Establishment,  that  no  Scots- 
man shall  be  employed  within  its  walls — none — from  the  Chairman's 
seat  to  the  Porter's.  TFe,  and  we  only,  are  excluded  from  all  and 
every  thing. 

North.  And  good  enough  reason  why.  They  know  if  we  got  our 
uose  once  in,  we  would  soon  draw  our  tails  after  us.  They  have  but 
to  look  over  the  way  to  the  India  House,  where  we  went  in  like  the 
acorn  and  have  grown  like  the  oak,  till  now  we  fill  the  whole  con- 
cern at  home  and  abroad,  and  the  birds  of  the  air  do  nestle  in  our 
pleasant  boughs — Gangetic  and  Ultra-Gangetic.  But  that's  the  way 
everywhere.  In  spite  of  their  laws,  we  have  taken  two-thirds  of 
all  the  colonies,  rump  and  stump,  to  ourselves. 

Tickler,  Why,  in  truth,  we  need  hardly  pretend  that  we  have  not 
had — ^by  hook  or  by  crook,  no  matter— our  own  share  of  the  fat 
things — India,  army,  navy,  council,  bench,  and  direction,  are  pretty 
well  ours.  In  the  West  Indies  we  are  the  drivers  most  universally, 
and  our  planters  are  at  least  half  and  half.  Nova  Scotia — the  name 
speaks  for  itself — and  as  for  Canada,  why  it's  as  Scotch  as  Lochaber 
— whatever  of  it  is  not  French,  I  mean.  Even  omitting  our  friend 
John  Gait,  have  we  not  hodie  our  Bishop  Macdonell  for  the  Papists — 
our  Archdeacon  Strachan  for  the  Episcopals — and  our  Tiger  Dunlop 
for  the  Presbyterians  ?  and  'tis  the  same,  1  believe,  all  downwards. 

North,  If  there  were  one  public  department  in  which  a  priori  one 
might  have  expected  to  find  Scotland  poorly  put  off,  I  think  it  will 
be  admitted  that  was  the  admiralty.  Well,  look  to  the  result. 
Lord  Melville — Sir  George  Clerk— Sir  George  Cockburn — three 
Scotchmen  out  of  the  five  — 

Macrabin,  You  may  almost  count  Lord  Castlereagh  too,  for  'tis 
well  known  the  present  high  and  mighty  Lord  Londonderry's  grand- 
father was  a  packman  callant  from  the  isle  of  Bute. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


864  NOOTES  AMBBOSlAIfM, 

Tickler,  I  believe  from  Saltcoats — which  modem  men  or  mon- 
keys name  Ardrossan.  But  what's  all  this  to  the  purpose  I  Had 
there  been  no  Union,  hang  it,  we  should  have  had  a  swapping  Ad- 
miralty long  ago  of  our  own  here  at  LeitL 

Wodrow,  Well,  sirs,  the  Irishers  seem  to  be  keen  set  on  having 
back  their  own  Parliament,  and  if  that  act  be  dung  owre,  wha  can 
tell?  maybe  ours  may  follow  the  same  gait! 

Mcurabin,  I  doubt  that.  The  Irish  loons  will  get  whatever  they 
like  to  ask  for — Experientia  docet — But  we  have  no  agitators — no 
O'Connells — Heaven  bless  the  mark,  that  we  should  have  come  to 
bemoan  that  loss ! 

Tickler.  The  evil — for  it  is  an  evil,  I  say — is  of  much  longer 
standing  in  our  case — our  spirit  has  been  worked  out  of  us  long  agu 
— we  are  a  province,  and  a  contented  province — quh  such — ^yet,  as 
the  Doctor  says,  there's  no  telling  what  may  turn  up  among  the 
marvels  of  such  a  period  as  is,  and  is  to  be ;  and  one  thing  I  can 
answer  for,  that  if  I  live  to  see  the  Irish  Union  repealed,  there  shall 
be  at  least  a  tussle  for  knocking  over  our  own  abomination  too. 

Macrabin,  You'll  make  Maga  speak  out,  Mr.  Timothy  ? 

Tickler,  That  she  shall,  ChrtMtophero  volente — ^but  that's  not  all — 
I  am  rich  enough,  Peter,  not  to  be  pinched  for  buying  half-a-dozen 
Cornish  boroughs — and  by  Jupiter,  I  will  purchase  them — and  I 
will  sit  myself,  and  cause  younger  men  to  sit  likewise.  You,  Macra- 
bin, will  you  be  one  of  the  Southside  members? 

Shepherd,  I  hae  nae  objections  for  ane. 

Macrabin,  The  salary  ? 

Wodrow,  Hootawa,  hootawa!  ha!  ha!  ha! — Advocate,  ye  had 
him  there ! 

Tickler,  To  be  serious,  my  friends;  in  losing  our  independent 
Parliament  we  lost  every  thing  that  made  this  nation  a  nation,  and 
we  have  been  county fying  ever  since.  But  what  made  the  business 
twenty  times  worse  than  it  would  otherwise  have  been,  was,  that 
the  Union  took  place  between  us  and  a  much  larger  and  wealthier 
kingdom.  It  was  bad  enough  to  deprive  us  of  our  own  nobility 
and  upper  gentry,  as  residents  for  the  best  part  of  the  year — the 
most  of  them  all  but  entirely — that  was  bad  enough.  It  was  bad 
enough  to  shut  out  all  our  young  men  from  the  chances  of  distinc- 
tion in  public  life,  excepting  those  few,  very  few,  who  were  likely  to 
find  access  to  such  distinction  in  the  south.  All  this  was  bad  enough 
— but  the  worst  remains  behind.  Our  magnates  have  been  Engllfied 
in  all  their  notions,  and  that  to  their  own  ruin,  and  to  ours. 

North,  A  few  great  families.     What  matter,  my  dear  Timothcusi 

Tickler,  Considerable  matter,  sir.  They  soon  lost  all  conceit  of 
their  home  and  its  fashions — and  mark  the  consequences  down- 
wards— for  downwards  the  base  infection  was  not  slow  to  creep. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


EPI800PA0Y  IN   BOOTLAND.  865 

Hence,  I  say,  a  scorn  and  contempt  gradually  engendered  among 
the  Scottish  gentry  for  the  Scottish  Church — there's  to  begin  with. 
What  laird,  even  of  a  paltry  thousand  a^ear,  breeds  his  second  or 
third  son  to  the  kirk  now-a-days]     Let  Dr.  Wodrow  answer. 

Wodrow,  There  was  Sir  Harry,  honest  roan — and  — 

Tickler,  Aye,  and  there's  yourself,  Doctor — and  it  would  be  easy 
to  name  a  dozen  more,  perhaps — but  what  are  these  out  of  a  thou- 
sand ?  In  fact  there  is  no  denying  it — the  Church  in  Scotland  has 
oome  to  be  all  but  exclusively  a  plebeian  profession.  Hence  it  has 
lost  its  influence  with  the  upper  classes  of  society,  and  has  its 
strength,  except  perhaps  in  the  west  country,  almost  entirely  among 
the  middling  order — the  burgesses  and  farmers.  The  gentry  are 
Episcopalian  on  the  whole. 

Wodrofjo,  Wae's  me  !  it's  owre  true  a  tale. 

Tickler,  As  for  the  nobility — we  all  know  the  king  has  rarely 
been  able  even  to  find  a  poor  Presbyterian  Lord  to  send  down  as 
his  commissioner  to  the  General  Assembly  of  the  Presbyterian 
Kirk.  Even  the  great  families  that  took  the  lead  in  the  establish- 
ment of  the  Reformed  Kirk — and,  by-the-by,  took  the  lead  also  in 
the  plunder  of  her  Catholic  dam — even  they  have  deserted  the  Blue 
Banner,  to  a  Coronet. 

Wodrow,  It's  a'  true,  Mr.  Tickler.     It's  a'  true. 

Tickler,  The  Quarterly  bragged  some  time  ago,  that  two  thirds 
of  the  land  in  Scotland  are  held  by  members  of  the  Episcopal 
Church.  I  was  nettled  when  I  read  the  insolent  vaunt,  and  consulted 
various  persons,  likely  to  be  well  informed  as  to  various  districts  of 
the  country ;  and,  confound  him !  I  had  reason  to  suspect  that  the 
Laureate  was  not  far  out  in  his  reckoning  for  once. 

Wodrow.  This  accounts  for  the  shameful  appearance  we  made 
lately  as  a  Christian  and  a  protestant  nation.  Wha,  that  ken  the 
Scotland  of  our  grandsires,  wad  hae  expected  the  Papist  Bill  to  be 
carried  with  hardly  a  voice  lifled  up  against  it]  Pm  no  forgetting 
what  you,  Mr.  North,  did  in  your  ain  way — and  you,  too,  Mr. 
Macrabin,  in  yours.     Oh,  sirs  ! 

Tickler.  It  will  account  for  many  blots  besides  that.  Doctor,  on 
what  was  once,  as  a  Scottish  bard  sung — 

"  Ado  gallant  scutcheon  fair  and  braid,  to  flee 
Upon  the  borders  of  the  Northern  sea — 
Ane  glorious  shield  of  chlvalrj  but  mate, 
Ane  maiden  banner  non-contaminate." 

So  quoth  old  Struan — ^your  chieftain,  by-the-by,  Macrabin. 
Maerabm,  Agnosco— one  of  the 

"  MagDanimi  heroes  nati  Toryoribus  annis." 

North,  \Vell,  I  think,  for  my  part,  the  Kirk  has  gained  as  much 


Digitized  by 


Google 


i 
866  K00TE8  AMBB08IAKJE. 

by  the  Church  as  she  has  lost  That  great  establishment  has  borno 
the  other  in  countenance  throughout — and  but  for  her  solid  weight 
overawing  our  squirearchy  as  well  as  her  own,  I  believe  John 
Rnox^s  foundation  might  have  had  a  third  shake  before  now. 

Tickler.  All  that  good  might  have  been,  and  would  have  been, 
and  more  of  it  also,  had  there  been  no  Union.  I  protest  I  can  see 
no  purpose  that  will  bear  being  even  named  that  has  been  really 
answered  by  this  detestable  measure,  save  and  except  that  the 
Ministers  of  England  have  thereby  been  enabled  to  rule  the  roast 
more  easily  to  themselves — at  less  expense  of  brain  and  bother,  in 
short.     It  comes  all  to  that. 

North.  Well,  and  don't  we  all  know  that  they  are  an  overworked 
set  of  men,  even  as  things  are  t 

Tickler.  I  know  no  such  thing.  They  are  a  most  egregiously 
underworked  body  of  asses.  No  doubt  the  body  occasionally  boasts 
an  overworked  head — a  Pitt — a  Castlereagb — a  Canning — a  Wel- 
lington. But  that  comes  of  nothing  but  the  silly  vanity,  or  the 
grasping  ambition  of  the  said  head. 

North,  As  for  example — Castlereagb. 

Inkier,  My  Lord  Castlereagb,  honored  be  his  name,  worked 
himself  to  death^-of  that  there  is  no  doubt ;  and  to  my  regret  of 
the  occurrence  there  is  no  bound.  But  he  did  so,  simply  because 
bis  ambition  was  unbridled,  and  he  preferred  any  overworking  to 
the  possible  consequences  of  introducing  more  men  of  calibre  equal 
to  real  work  into  the  cabinet  which  people  so  absurdly  used  to  call 
Lord  Liverpoors.  For  instance,  he  has  had  lessons  enough  of  what 
it  was  to  have  a  Canning  cheek-for-jole  with  him. 

North.  Yes,  indeed 

Tkkler.  Mr.  Canning  himself,  poor  man,  died  of  vanity — ^in  two 
ways.  First  of  all  he  fancied  that  no  man  in  England  could  do 
any  thing  weU  in  any  department,  but  himself — he  would  not  trust 
any  of  the  rest  of  his  crew — and  it  must  be  owned  they  were  a  sweet 
set — with  even  a  common  letter.  I  only  wonder  he  did  not  take 
the  Laureateship  to  himself  too.  He  wrote  every  scrap  himself^  and 
re-  and  re-  and  re- wrote  it,  till  he  wrought  himself  into  a  nervous 
habit  of  body,  that  made  it  all  but  certain  that  a  violent  shock  of 
any  kind  would  overturn  him.  And  the  shook  came  with  a  ven- 
geance— he  found  himself  spurned  and  insulted  by  the  Aristocracy 
of  England* — his  blood  boiled,  his  heart  rattled — and  he  tried  a 
thousand  remedies,  some  better  and  some  worse — and  George  Can- 
ning died.  The  Duke  of  Wellington  has  no  nerves,  and,  1  dare  say, 
no  vanity ;  but  he  has  some  ambition,  it  is  commonly  cdiowed,  and 
no  matter  what  the  reason  may  be,  such  is  the  fact,  he  at  this  mo- 
ment is  doing  all  the  work  of  the  country.     We  shall  see  how  he 

*  Ltd  by  Eul  ^rty, «  profoMtd  Lib'  ral,  who  afunrmrJa  carried  the  Rafimn  Bill !— X. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


OFFIOIALB.  867 

stands  it.  I  confess  he  is  not  likelj  to  be  beat  up  so  soon  as  eitber 
of  his  predecessors.  Well,  there  are  overworked  men  for  you  ;  but 
where  is  the  overworked  body  of  men  ?  Is  Lord  Lyndhurst  over- 
worked ? 

Macrabin,  He  looks  nothing  like  it :  he  has  the  air  of  a  most 
d^gag^e  lord.  I  say  Lord^  for  certainly  there  is  not  a  man  in  the 
house  on  whom  Nature  has  set  a  plainer  mark  of  nobility. 

Tickler.  A  good  acute  head,  as  I  remember.  Well,  who  else  is 
overworked.     Peel  ? 

Macrabin,  He  has  not  brains  enough  to  be  turned.* 

Tickler.  Gro  over  all  the  official  squadron,  and  if  you  don't  find 
them  a  sleek,  fat-headed,  cob-trotting,  good-dinner-eating,  ball-going, 
cheery-faced,  broad- hipped  assortment  of  gentlemen — all  I  shall  say, 
my  dear,  is,  that  they  don't  much  resemble  any  of  the  sets  that  I 
remember  in  their  august  places.  Never  was  such  quackery,  ray 
friend.  Any  well  employed  doctor  or  lawyer  goes  through  more 
real  tearing  fatigue,  bodily  and  mental,  in  a  year,  than  would  serve 
the  best  of  official  folk,  bating  Premiers,  if  you  will,  for  the  Siege  of 
Troy. 

North.  Well,  take  all  this.  As  to  the  present  set  in  particular,  I 
am  free  to  admit  that  it  would  be  an  unchristian  thing  to  look  for 
caracoles  from  a  team  of  cart-horses.  It  must  serve  us  to  hear  the 
driver's  whip  whistle,  and  their  bells,  poor  dumb  things,  jingle,  as 
they  urge  on  the  ponderous  machine. 

Tickler.  You  are  out — it  would  stop,  if  the  wagoner  himself  did 
not  push  like  to  break  his  back  behind,  as  well  as  skelping  away  at 
them  before. 

North.  Well,  well.  But  what  has  all  this  to  do  with  the  Scotch 
Union  and  the  prophecies  of  Lord  Belhaven  ? 

Tickler.  Bide  a  wee,  Kit — we're  coming  to  that  belyve.  But  I 
think  the  doctor  here's  getting  shy  of  the  claret 

Wodrow.  Aye,  indeed,  Mr.  North;  a  body's  stomach,  that's  used 
to  whisky  toddy  for  the  most  part,  or  port,  at  least,  finds  the  like  o' 
this  rather  cauld  in  the  upshot. 

Shepherd.  I've  been  scunnerin'  at  it,  too,  this  half  hour.  Come, 
Doctor,  we'se  hae  a  bowl.  {Rinffs  ;  enter  Ambrosb  and  catching 
the  Shepherd's  glance,  exit  instanter.)  Now  we'll  soon  be  provided. 
My  certie,  it's  easier  to  get  back  the  Punch  than  the  Parliament. 

Tickler.  Fear  nothing.  They  will  either  be  beaten  into  giving  up 
both  the  Unions,  or  into  doing  what  I  honestly  confess  I  should  con- 
sider as  nearly  as  good — perhaps,  after  the  lapse  of  three  genera- 
tions, in  our  own  case,  on  the  whole,  the  better  thing  of  the  twain. 

Shepherd.  And  what's  that"?  {Enter  Punch.)— Noo,  Doctor 
Wodrow,  in  wi'  your  glass — the  meikle  big  ane  o'  the  three — this 

*  Another  iiutaiio«  of  the  injastioe  which  paxtisuuhip  yieldi  to  opponents. — M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


NOCTES   AMBB06IAKJL 

will  gar  your  inside  lowp.  And  what's  your  projec,  Mr  Tickler,  I 
was  spearin'. 

Tickler.  A  very  simple  project  Let  them  keep  one  session  of 
Parliament  here  and  two  in  Dublin  for  every  three  that  they  bold 
in  Westminster,  and  the  devil's  in  it 

Wodrow.  Hoot  fie,  Southside — and  you  an  Elder  ! • 

Tickler,  Peccavi !  give  me  a  tumbler  of  your  punch  for  sconce. 
Well,  I  say,  the  mischiefs  in  it,  if  the  two  Sister  Capitals  do  not 
take  a  spring  to  astonish  the  world — aye,  and  the  Sister  Kingdoms 
too.  Why,  even  the  King's  bit  jaunt  did  more  good  than  I  can  tell. 
It  was  elixir  vitoe  to  us  for  a  twelvemonth  ;  and  had  not  Lord  Cas- 
tlereagh  gone  off  just  then,  and  the  liberal  reign  begun  in  earnest,  it's 
my  fancy  we  should  have  been  speaking  of  that  fortnight  to  this  day. 
But  the  ne*er-do-wee]s  spoiled  all  with  their  conundrums. 

North.  And  that  was  his  Grace  of  Wellington's  own  opinion  once. 

Macrabin.  Granting  all  other  obstacles  were  overcome,  how  do 
you  propose  to  carry  on  the  machinery  of  Government  ?  Where 
are  to  be  the  public  offices  here  in  Auld  Reekie?  Where  are  we  to 
lodge  the  Ministers?  And  how  are  all  the  Members  of  the  two 
Houses  and  their  families  to  be  put  up  ? 

Tickler.  Never  fear ;  where  the  carcass  is,  thither  will  the  eagles 
gather  fast  enough.  The  King  has  no  house  in  London,  nor  has  had 
this  many  a  day,  by  half  so  comfortable,  as  well  as  magnificent,  as 
the  Baron  of  Balleudean  could  turn  out  old  Holyrood*  at  three 
months'  notice.  The  great  lords  and  dukes — there's  not  so  many  of 
them  after  all — would  be  very  well  contented  with  such  dwellings 
as  bankrupt  Writers  to  the  Signet  are  in  the  habit  of  erecting  for 
their  own  accommodation  in  Moray  Place  and  elsewhere — shoving 
the  Septentrionic  Jurisconsults  back  to  their  proper  quarters  in  the 
Old  Town;  the  Assembly  Rooms  would  do  very  well  for  the 
Treasury ;  in  short,  the  deuce  a  fear  but  we  would  find  room  for 
them  all. 

Macrabin.  The  mere  clerkage,  man,  hundreds,  perhaps  thousands 
of  them,  how  would  you  bring  them  down,  and  where  would  you. 
stow  them  ? 

Tickler.  Contract  with  the  United  Kingdom,  to  be  sure, — fetch 
them  all  down  in  two  or  three  voyages,  at  two  pounds  a  bottom  ; 
and  there's  the  Castle  Barracks,  I  would  board  and  lodge  the  tinklers 
there,  better  than  ever  they  were  in  their  dirty  lives  before,  at  seven 
and  sixpence  aweek. 

Shepherd.  As  for  the  Whigs,  I  suppose  billets  on  Dr.  Knox,  and 
others  in  and  about  Surgeon  Square,  would  overcome  every  diffi- 
culty. 

*  The  Dak«  of  Hamilton  ia  heredltarr  Koepor  of  Holjrood  Falaoo,  which  hu  been  repsir^d 
(br  tb«  reception  of  Q,aeen  Victoria.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


EUTN   OP  THE  GENTRY.  869 

Tickler,  My  eye !  what  a  reformation  one  such  session  would 
bring  about  among  our  vain,  silly,  doomed  and  doited  gentry  ! 

Maerabin.  Purification  of  domestic  morals,  I  presume — a  new 
sense  of  divine  truth  awakened. 

Tickler,  Havers — havers.  But  I'll  tell  you  what  there  would  be. 
Our  gentry  have  been  ruined  thus:  Our  nobility  being  wiled  away 
(to  all  substantial  purposes)  by  the  Southron,  the  lairds  have  been 
lefl  to  themselves,  and,  no  examples  of  really  great  wealth  being 
before  their  eyes  to  overawe  them,  they  have  all,  forsooth,  entered 
into  a  deliberate  system  of  competition  with  each  other  in  point  of 
show  and  expense.  One  laird  has  £3000  a-year,  we  shall  say — and 
how  few  Scottish  lairds  ever  had  any  such  rental,  we  all  know  ;  he  has 
such  and  such  a  house,  and  such  and  such  an  establishment,  and 
gives  such  and  such  entertainments.  Next  parish  glorifies  itself  in 
a  brother  squire  of  £2000  a-year,  but  with  quite  as  long  a  pedigree. 
It  immediately  ensues,  that  he  claps  a  back  jam  to  his  old  house,  in 
order  that  it  may  be  as  big  as  his  neighbor^  and  peradventure  he 
erects  a  pepper-box  at  each  angle,  and  points  his  staircase  window, 
and  battlements  his  garrets — behold  the  castle  or  the  priory.  Then 
comes  the  butler  and  the  under-butler—  how  could  he  do  without 
them  ?  and  a  suitable  train  of  coxcombs  in  blue  and  crimson — and 
then  comes  company  to  admire  all  this — and  then  crack  goes  the 
champagne — and  then  comes  pay-day — and  then  in  goes  the  laird  to 
Edinburgh,  to  crack  over  his  aflairs  with  his  excellent  and  right 
trusty  friends  Messrs.  Bondison  and  Macrichaye, — and  so  another 
year  goes  off — and  another — and  the  laird's  sons  are  getting  up — 
and  an  election  is  at  hand — and  Lord  So-and-so's  in  the  Admiralty 
— or  Mr,  So-and-so's  in  the  East  India  Direction— or  General  So-and 
so  is  a  great  friend  of  Lord  Fitzroy,*  or  some  other  great  gun  at  the 
Horse-Guards — and  the  County  Collector  has  had  a  touch  of  palsy 
lately — and  the  young  laird  has  settled  in  his  own  mind,  that  in  case 
of  Bell,  or  L'Amy,  or  Clephane  going  to  the  Bench,  it  would  be  no 
bad  thing  to  have  even  so  small  a  matter  as  a  Sheriffship,  ay,  and 
until  the  old  laird  be  gathered  unto  his  grandfathers.  Do  you  smoke 
them,  Doctor  t 

Wodrow,  There  is  no  soundness  in  them.  Vanity  of  vanities,  all 
is  vanity  ! 

Tickler.  This  species  of  folly  is  comparatively  unknown  in  the 
south.  The  spectacle  of  princely  magnificence,  obviously  unattaina- 
ble, and  inimitable,  being  constantly  before  smaller  people's  eyes, 
they  begin  to  let  their  vanity  run  in  another  and  a  more  wholesome 
channel ;  and  pique  themselves,  in  fact,  on  a  systematic  modesty 

•  Lord  FItzroy  Someriet,  for  many  years  military  Secretary  to  the  Commander-in-chief ; 
ereated  Lord  Raglan  in  1852,  and  eent  to  Turkey,  in  chief  command  of  the  British  forces,  in 
1854.-M. 

Vol.  IIL-25 


Digitized  by 


Google 


870  NOCTTES  AMBBOdlANJB. 

and  moderation.  Anybody  that  has  ever  spent  a  summer  in  York* 
shire,  will  back  me  throughout,  I  am  certain.  A  man  with  £8  or 
£10,000  a-year  of  good  fat  land,  all  in  a  ring-fence,  in  the  West 
Riding,  lives  in  every  respect  more  plainly  than  e'er  a  proud 
Scotsman  with  a  nominal  £3000  of  rental  eyen,  from  Dan  to  Beer- 
sheba. 

Wodrow.  And  you  are  seriously  of  opinion  that  the  splendor  of 
the  great  Englishers  would  dazzle  our  lairds'  een,  so  that  they  would 
see  clearly  the  propriety  of  living  within  their  means? 

Tickler,  It  would  help,  I  think,  and  help  not  a  little — even  that. 
But  this  is  not  the  effective  style  of  operation  I  contemplate.  Look, 
after  all,  to  the  situation  of  the  Scotch  magnates  in  their  dear  South. 
Their  pedigrees  are  among  the  finest  in  Europe, — that  is  admitted 
— those  of  the  English  peerage,  taken  as  a  body,  are  among  the 
poorest  in  Europe 

North.  I  admit  that — it  has  been  the  policy  of  the  most  recent 
ministers  to  degrade  the  peerage ;  and  if  they  had  had  the  power  of 
making  new  peers  in  Scotland,  we  may  easily  guess  what  they 
would  have  done  here  in  that  way  ako,  when  we  look  at  their 
Baronetage. 

Tickler,  Yes,  yes — nevertheless,  the  fact  is  certain,  that  the  En- 
glish nobility  turn  up  their  noses  at  the  Scotch.  Nothing  under  a 
Duke  is  admitted  as  of  right  among  the  haute  noblesse  there.  Our 
Earls  and  all  downwards  are  practically  considered  as  belonging  to 
an  inferior  order — something  half-way,  perhaps,  between  the  English 
title  of  the  same  sound  and  an  Irish  one. 

Macrabin,  I  have  even  known  a  Scotch  Duke  sneered  at  as  a 
questionable  sort  of  animal. 

North.  Ay, — Brummell  cut  a  certain  worthy  old  friend  of  ours  in 
St.  James's-street — having  the  preceding  autumn  spent  six  weeks 
at  Dunkeld  and  Blair,  shooting  deer  and  supping  Atholebrose  all 
the  time  like  a  hero. 

Macrabin.  Money — money — money. 

Tickler,  Chiefly  so — but  not  entirely.  Two  things  are  necessary 
—or  at  least  one  or  other  of  the  two — close  connection  with  some 
of  the  real  grandees  of  England,  who  intermarry  d  la  Banyan— or 
enormous  wealth. 

Macrabin.  That  last  will  cover  all  defects.     Thanks  to  Mr.  Pitt. 

North.  Thanks  rather  to  the  necessities  of  Mr.  Pitt's  time.  Had 
he  not  extended  the  peerage  as  he  did,  the  accursed  proud  little 
knot  of  stinking  Whigs  would  have  had  every  thing  their  own  way. 
Charley  Fox  would  have  been  Mogul,  and  England  would  have  been 
revolutionized  as  sure  as  the  Bastile  was  overthrown. 

Tickler.  Yes,  yes.  But  Pitt  could  not  achieve  that  necessary 
good  without  the  accompaniment  of  great,  and,  I  fear,  lasting  evil. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


AMBULATORY  PARLTAMKNTS.  371 

The  peerage  of  England  has  been  thoroughly  degraded.  Money 
buys  boroughs,  and  boroughs  may  command  any  thing  under  a 
dukedom  ;  and  a  peerage  bottomed  on  pounds,  shillings,  and  pence, 
can  do  things  that  a  true  nobility  durst  not  think  of. 

Macrabin.  Rat,  for  example — rat. 

Tickler,  Thou  hast  said  it  This  degraded  order,  however,  tram- 
ples on  the  Scottish  peerage,  who  are  base  enough  to  prefer  such 
usage  to  remaining  as  princes  of  the  land  here  at  home.  And  what 
I  was  coming  to  is  this — that  were  Parliament  held  here  now  and 
then,  these  peers  of  ours  would  find  themselves,  now  and  then,  in 
possession  of  precedence  as  to  rank  over  their  habitual  despisers; 
they  would,  moreover,  find  themselves  now  and  then  able  to  display 
more  magnificence  than  these.  Here  they  would  have  their  fine 
places,  for  example;  and  having  their  estates  at  hand,  they  would 
be  able  to  live  much  better  every  way  than  they  ever  can  afford  to 
do  four  hundred  miles  away.  After  all,  they  would  be  the  cocks  of 
the  walk  here ; — and  what  between  the  sense  of  self-respect  thus  re- 
awakened among  them,  and  the  sobering  influences  already  alluded 
to  operating  on  the  order  just  below  them,  I  do  not  think  it  too  much 
to  say,  that  great  good  would  and  must  be  produced. 

North.  Why,  perhaps,  if  they  know  that  Edinburgh  was  to  be  the 
capital  once  every  three,  four  or  even  five  years,  they  might  learn 
to  content  themselves  with  that,  and  lie  by  in  the  interim.  Any 
thing  that  should  tend  to  keep  them  out  of  London  would  unques- 
tionably be  beneficial. 

Tickler,  Aye — and  not  to  Scotland,  or  to  Ireland  alone,  but  to 
England  herself.  What  is  London  to  grow  \m  1  When  James  the 
Sixth  went  up,  the  population  of  London  was  about  what  that  of 
Edinburgh  is  now — not  more.  In  two  centuries  it  has  risen  from 
150,000  to  1,400,000  at  the  least.*  Is  that  to  go  on  ad  infinitum  f 
Can  it  go  on  without  destroying  the  country  ?  Can  it  go  on  with- 
out sapping  the  strength  of  the  provinces  ?  Can  it  go  on  without 
causing  some  consummating  convulsion  in  the  great  Babylon  itself? 
I  consider  that  the  indifl^erence  with  which  Parliament  after  Parlia- 
ment goes  on  contemplating  this  ruinous  growth,  is  a  phenomenon 
of  a]>surdity-M)f  insanity.  And  I  know  of  no  method  by  which  the 
evil  can  be  checked,  except  by  throwing  the  weight  of  government 
and  fashion,  perforcCy  occasionally  into  the  scales  of  Dublin  and 
Edinburgh. 

Macrabin,  A  young  and  active  Sovereign  might  take  the  hint.f 

Tickler,  I  expect  no  absurdities.  It  would  be  as  ridiculous  to 
transplant  his  present  Majesty,  God  bless  him  !  to  the  North,  as  it 

*  And  exceeds  3,500,000  in  the  jwr  1854.— M. 

t  ^aeen  Victoria  has  paid  Bdreral  ehort  visits  to  Dublin  and  Edinburgh,  and  spends   the 
autumn  in  Aberdeenshire  where  she  has  a  country  residence.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


372  NOCTES   AMBBOSIAN^L 

would  be  to  remove  me  from  beneath  the  shadow  of  Arthur's  Seat 
and  Salisbury  Crags,  to  a  snug  villa  in  the  Alpha  Road.  (I  think  I 
have  heard  the  name  of  such  an  abomination.) 

North.  Situated  close  to  the  Paddington  canal,  and  sung  repeat- 
edly by  Signor  Le  Hunlo,  Gloria  di  Cocagna. 

Macrabin.  As  was  also  the  Zeta*  rod^  1  believe. 

Tickler,  From  a  kingdom,  we  have  already  sunk  into  a  province ; 
let  the  thing  go  on  much  longer,  and  from  a  province  we  shall  fall 
to  a  colony — one  of  "  the  dominions  thereunto  belonging!"  They 
are  knocking  our  old  entail  law  to  pieces  as  fast  as  they  can,  and 
the  English  capitalists  and  our  Glossins  between  them,  will,  before 
many  days  pass,  have  the  soil  to  themselves — unless  something  be 
done — and  I  for  one  shall  do  mon  possible. 

Macrabin,  Trecenti  juravimus. 

Shepherd,  Weel,  if  the  gentry  lose  the  land,  the  Highland  anes  at 
ony  rate,  it  will  only  be  the  Lord's  righteous  judgment  on  them  for 
having  dispossessed  the  people  before  them.  Ah  !  wae's  me — I 
hear  the  Duke  of  Hamilton's  cottars  are  a'  gaun  away,  man  and 
mither's  son,  frae  the  Isle  o'  Arran.  Pity  on  us  !  was  there  a  bon- 
nier sight  in  the  warld,  than  to  sail  by  yon  green  shores  on  a  braw 
summer^s  evening,  and  see  the  smoke  risin'  frae  the  puir  bodies'  bit 
shielings,  ilk  ane  wi'  its  peatstack  and  its  twa  three  auld  donnerd 
pines,  or  saughs,  or  elms,  sugh — sughin'  owre  the  thack  in  the 
gloaniin'  breeze  ? 

North.  By-the-by,  1  have  a  letter  this  morning  from  a  friend  of 
mine  now  in  Upper  Canada.  He  was  rowed  down  the  St.  Lawrence 
lately,  for  several  days  on  end,  by  a  set  of  strapping  fellows,  all 
born  in  that  country,  and  yet  hardly  one  of  whom  could  speak  a 
word  of  any  tongue  but  the  Gaelic.  They  sung  heaps  of  our  old 
Highland  oar-songs,  he  says,  and  capitally  well,  in  the  true  Hebri- 
dean  fashion  ;  and  they  had  othei*8  of  their  own,  Gaelic  too,  some  of 
which  my  friend  noted  down,  both  words  and  music.  He  has  sent 
me  a  translation  of  one  of  their  ditties — shall  I  try  how  it  will 
croon  ? 

Omnes,  O,  by  all  means — by  all  means. 

North,  Very  well,  ye'll  easily  catch  the  air,  and  be  sure  you  tip 
me  vigor  at  the  chorus.  {Chants,) 

CANADIAN      BOAT-SON  Q. 

From  the  Gaelic, 

Listen  to  me,  as  when  ye  beard  our  father 

Sing  loDg  ago  the  song  of  other  shores — 
Listeo  to  me,  aod  then  in  cboi-us  gather 

All  your  deep  voices,  as  ye  puU  your  oara : 

*  The  Mv«rest  atucks  on  L^ifh  Hunt  wv  oT«r  th«  ncDatare  '*Z.** — Ik. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


800TTI8H  EXILES.  873 

Chorus, 

Fair  these  broad  meadt — these  hoary  woods  are  ffrc  td  ; 
But  toe  are  exiles  from  our  fathers'  land 

From  the  lone  shieling  of  the  misty  island 
Mountains  divide  us,  and  the  waste  of  seas  — 

Tet  still  the  blood  is  strong,  the  heart  is  Highland, 
And  we  in  dreams  behold  tiie  Hebrides : 

Fair  these  broad  meads — these  hoary  tooods  are  grattd; 
Bui  we  are  exiles  from  our  fathers*  latuL 

We  ne*er  shall  tread  the  fancy-haunted  valley, 

Where  'tween  the  dark  hills  creeps  the  small  dear  stream. 

In  arms  around  the  patriarch  banner  rally, 
Nor  see  the  moon  on  royal  tombstones 'gleam: 

Fair  these  broad  meads — these  hoary  woods  are  grand. 
But  we  are  exiles  from  our  fathers*  land 

When  the  bold  kindred,  in  the  time  long-vanish'd, 

Conquer'd  the  soil  and  fortified  the  keep, — 
No  seer  foretold  the  children  would  be  banish'd. 

That  a  degenerate  Lord  might  boast  his  sheep  : 

Fair  these  broad  meads — these  hoary  tooods  are  grand; 
But  toe  are  exiles  from  our  fathers"  land 

Come  foreign  rage — ^let  Discord  burst  in  slaughter  I 
O  then  for  clansman  true,  and  stern  clavmore  — 

The  hearts  that  would  have  given  their  blood  like  water, 
Beat  heavily  beyond  the  Atlantic  roar : 

Fair  these  broad  meads~-4kese  hoary  woods  are  grand; 
But  toe  are  exiles  frotn  our  father i  land 

Shepherd,  Hech  me!  that's  really  a  very  affectin'  thing,  now. 
Weel,  Doctor,  what  say  you  "?     Another  bowl  ? 

Wodrow,  Weel,  Mr.  Hogg,  if  ye  will  have  it — but  really  the 
evening's  advancing — and  wi'  a'  your  wise  discourse,  friends,  ye've 
given  me  very  little  light  yet  about  my  tway  callants. 

Tickler,  Doctor  Wodrow,  there's  nothing  for  it  but  colonization. 
Wilmot  Horton  for  ever,  say  I.  If  1  were  a  stout  carl  like  you, 
with  a  parcel  of  strapping  olive  plants  rising  about  my  table,  by  the 
Ghost  of  Nebuchadnezzar  I  would  roup  off,  turn  every  thing  into 
cash,  and  make  interest  with  Peel  for  a  few  thousand  square  miles 
of  improvable  laud  somewhere  in  Australia.  I'll  be  hanged  if  I 
would  not. 

Wodrow,  I'm  owre  auld,  Mr.  Tickler,  I'm  owre  auld. 

Tickler,  You !  you're  not  sixty — here  am  I,  seventy -six  come 
Candlemas,  and  it  would  take  but  little  to  persuade  me  to  join  your 
venture.  Wliat  say  you,  North "?  could  we  move  you  to  such  a 
tramp  ? 


Digitized  by 


Google 


374  nocTEs  ambsoqiasm. 

North,  Why,  IVe  been  thinking  of  the  like  already.  Let  politi- 
cal afiairs  go  on  here  in  their  present  course  for  another  session  or 
8o,  and  Great  Britain  will  be  no  place  for  the  like  of  us  to  leave  our 
bones  in.  We  may  as  well  lie  by  a  little  while  longer,  and  then, 
by  Jupiler,  and  then — if  nothing  turns  up— why,  the  best  thing  we 
can  do  will,  I  devoutly  believe,  be  to  pack  up  bag  and  baggage,  and 
endeavor  to  found  a  free  and  Christian  state  somewhere  of  our  own. 

Shepherd,  V\\  gang  wi'  ye,  sir.  Pll  be  ready  at  half  a  year's 
notice^ — gin  ye'll  gie  me  a  grand  estate  or  a  good  post. 

North,  Dune  !  you  shall  choose  for  yourself,  James. 

Shepherd,  Na,  na !  1*11  be  weel  content  wi'  ony  thing  ye  appoint. 
And  you,  Macrabin,  will  ye  bear  to  stand  at  the  pier  o'  Leith,  and 
see  us  a'  sailin'  awa  1 

Macrabin,  Not  I,  indeed.  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  be  your 
Chief  Justice,  Judge  Admiral,  and  Lord  High  Chancellor,  all  in  one. 

Tickler,  As  I  am  the  Senior,  and  also  the  chief  capitalist,  I  intend 
to  be  Governor,  or  Cacique,  or  whatever  else  we  may  fix  on  for 
title.  You,  North,  shall  be  my  First  Lord  of  the  Treasury  ;  and 
honest  Mullion  my  Secretary  of  State.  Odoherty  will  be  forthcono- 
ing  for  Commander-in-Chief.  I  shall  offer  the  Admiralty  to  Basil 
Hall,  I  think.  He  is  certainly  the  most  courageous  Argonaut  going, ' 
for  he  has  stereotyped  the  first  edition  of  his  book* — and  on  the 
whole,  I  consider  this  compliment  as  due  to  him.  You,  Macrabin, 
as  you  judiciously  propose,  shall  have  the  law  arrangements  on 
your  shoulders — you  shall  be  at  once  our  Solon  and  our  Sugden — 

Macrabin.  Your  Justinian,  and  your  Justice  Clerk  — 

Tickler,  Our  Khadamanthus  and  our  Rae  — 

Macrabin,  Your  Lycurgus,  your  Lyndhurst,  and  your  L'Amy — 
(hear,) 

Tickler,  Our  Plato,  our  Plunket,  and  our  Pitmilly — (hear,) 

Macrabin,  Your  Cato,  your  Coke,  and  your  Keay — {hear^  hear,) 

Tickler,  Our  Meadowbank,  our  Minos,  and  our  Macneil — {hear,) 

Macrabin,  Your  Draco,  your  Demosthenes,  and  your  Dickson — 
{hear,  hear,) 

Shepherd,  Our  Halkerstone,  our  IIoup,  and  our  Hangie— (A^ar, 
hear,  hear.) 

Omnes,  Ha !  ha  !  ha ! — ha !  ha !  ha ! — ha !  ha  !  ha ! 

Tickler,  By  the  way.  Doctor,  we've  been  forgetting  the  Church 
Establishment.     Of  course  you'll  be  our  Bishop! 

Wodrow,  Me  a  Bishop,  Mr.  Tickler  !  Tm  a  Calvinist  to  the  back* 
bane.     Presbyterian  pawrity  for  me  wherever  I  gang. 

Macrabin,  1  have  a  more  solid  objection.  The  Scripture  has  ruled 
that  a  Bishop  must  be  the  husband  of  only  one  wife,  and  I  submit 
that  such  a  character  would  be  wholly  out  of  place  in  a  new  settle 

*  A  rery  UDuioal  proo«M  with  th%^r$t  Edition  of  any  book,  in  any  put  of  Enrope.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


COLONY  OF  NEW  BT.    KIt's.  375 

tnent,  such  as  we  are  about  to  organize.  I  am  therefore  inclined,  as 
Amicus  Curiae,  to  suggest  that  we  should  adhere  to  the  Presbyterian 
model ;  in  which  case,  our  worthy  friend  here  might  comply  with 
the  spirit  of  our  patriarchal  institutions,  and  have  just  as  many  Mrs. 
Pawrity-Wodrows  as  he  might  happen  to  find  convenient  under  ex- 
isting circumstances. 

Shepherd.  Aye,  man  ?  and  how  many  Mrs.  Macrabins  is  there  to 
r)e  o'  them  ? 

Macrabin,  Hogg,  the  answer  to  that  question  is  still  in  the  womb 
of  time.  As  well  might  I  ask  how  many  Mrs.  Hoggs,  Mrs.  Ticklers, 
or  Mrs.  Norths.  Such  inquiries,  Hogg,  at  the  present  stage  of  this 
business,  must  be  considered  as  rash,  premature,  and  irrelevant. 
But  sure  I  am,  (ruing)  that,  sitting  there  as  you  do,  you  can  have  no 
doubt  with  regard  to  the  principle,  gentlemen,  the  broad,  the  just, 
the  liberal,  and  the  salutary  principle,  on  which  I  have  ventured  to 
bottom  the  hingeing  and  cardinal  features  of  this  case  !  No,  Hogg; 
is  it  to  be  endured  that  we,  a  patriotic  band,  fleeing  to  the  uttermost 
parts  of  the  earth,  in  order  that  we  may  no  longer  be  the  witnesses 
of  the  political,  the  moral,  and  the  religious  degradation,  insecurity, 
and  oppression  of  a  once  proud,  and  virtuous,  and  truly  Protestant 
country — is  it  to  be  borne,  I  say,  and  1  repeat,  that  we,  my  Luds, — 
that  we,  the  heroic  victims  of  this  tyranny,  the  noble  eschewers  of 
this  abomination,  the  self-exiled  confessors  of  the  great  and  holy 
cause  of  British  Protestantism — is  it  to  be  endured  even  for  a  mo- 
ment, that  we,  my  Luds,  should  be  held  bound  to  carry  with  us  into 
those  new,  wide,  and  virgin  regions,  over  which  we  seem  destined  to 
diffuse  and  establish  the  great  principles  of  light,  and  law,  and  liber- 
ty,— is  it  to  be  endured,  my  Luds,  that  we  should  hamper  our  wings 
in  this  great,  gallant,  and  glorious  excursion,  with  any  of  those  most 
inapplicable  impediments  and  most  unsuitable  entanglements,  which, 
rendered  necessary  in  old  thickly  peopled  territories  by  the  inevita- 
ble march  of  circumstances,  and  sanctioned  accordingly  in  such  ter- 
ritories by  the  denunciations  at  once  of  the  press,  the  pulpit,  and  the 
pillory,  could  under  other  circumstances  be  attended  with  no  conse- 
quence but  that  of  hampering  the  infant  movements  of  the  social 
principle  in  a  manner  alike  impertinent,  my  Luds,  impolitic,  and 
unpleasant ? — (JJear,  hear!) — No,  sir;  far  from  us  be  such  narrow, 
illiberal,  and  unphilosophical  bigotry  !  Let  us  not  assimilate  our- 
selves in  our  minds'  eyes  to  the  poor  haltered  mill-horses,  who  stump 
their  eternal  round  within  the  never- varying  circle  of  outworn  for- 
malities !  Let  us,  O  my  Hogg,  take  a  wider,  a  nobler,  and  a  more 
aerial  range  in  our  aspirations  ! — {Hear^  hear /) — Let  us  dwell  rather 
on  the  great  precursors  and  founders  of  the  existing  societies  now 
degrading  and  degraded,  within  the  ancient  hemisphere  of  this  ter- 
restrial globe.     Let  us  assimilate  ourselves  rather  to  the  Patriarchs 


Digitized  by 


Google 


376  KOCTES   AMBBOeiAN^ 

of  old — {ffear^  hear,  hear  !) — Let  us  go  forth  into  the  wilderness  of 
the  New  World,  able  and  willing  to  exert  all  our  faculties  in  the 
noble  task  of  fonnding  a  wise,  a  fre^y  an  independent,  a  moral,  a  just, 
an  obedient,  and  a  populous  nation.  (Hear,  hear  !)  Liet  the  people 
grow,  and  let  the  rulers  thereof  abound  and  flourish.  {Hear,  hear, 
hear  /)  Let  us  spread  ourselves  in  a  full  and  fertilizing  stream,  from 
the  borders  of  the  great  river,  even  the  river  Tickler,  unto  the  wil- 
derness of  WoDROw  on  the  right  hand,  and  unto  the  huge  cedar-clad 
mountains  of  the  Macrabinian  chain  upon  the  left!  {Hear,  hear!) 
Let  our  Shepherd  bequeath  his  name  and  his  blood  to  all  the  dwell- 
ers in  a  vailev  like  unto  the  valley  of  Egypt  Yea,  let  the  Hoggs 
of  that  land  he  as  numerous  as  the  Howtowdies  of  this!  And  let 
NoRTHOPOLis  extend  her  walls  and  her  towers,  until  Imperial  Rome, 
in  comparison  to  her,  be  voted  a  rat-hole,  Nineveh  a  nook,  Babylon 
a  baby-house,  and  Pekin  the  paltriest  pile  of  the  Pigmies!  In  a 
word,  1,  like  this  reverend  and  revered  father,  am  opposed 
Mordicus  to  the  adoption  of  the  Episcopalian  ritual  and  discipline  in 
the  infant  state,  in  its  application  to  our  meditated  polity,  J  fore- 
see a  long  concatenation  of  insuperable  and  even  disgusting  evils ;  1 
say  with  our  Wodrow— 

•  Let  Love  be  Liberty,  and  Nature  Law  I "     {Hear,  hear,  hear.) 

And  I  beg  leave  to  propose  a  health  to  the  wives  and  sweethearts  of 
the  colonists  of  New  St.  Kit's — {three  times  three,) 

Tickler.  I  hereby  give  my  sanction  to  that  name.  New  St.  Kit's 
let  it  be. 

North,  Thank  ye— well,  I  think  we  have  settled  most  other  things 
pretty  decently — where  are  we  to  get  the  cash  ? 

Tickler,  Cash  ?  Pooh,  pooh !  Cash,  Com,  and  Catholics — all 
shall  be  forthcoming.  Why,  I  don't  wish  to  take  things  at  a  high 
estimate;  but,  surely,  what  with  my  land  and  lands  in  the  West 
O^untry,  my  st(ick  here,  in  France,  and  in  the  United  States — 
North's  plum — and  what  the  rest  of  you  may  scrape  together,  we 
may  count  one  way  or  another  on  some — let  me  see — some  millions 
— or  so.  Not  enough,  you  will  say  ? — well,  it  will  make  a  begin- 
ning, however,  and  when  once  we're  afloat,  no  fears — we  shall 
have  constant  accessions.  Protestant  capital  will  soon  pour  in  upon 
us. 

Macrabin,  I  look  much  to  the  influence  of  the  liberal  laws  I  shall 
take  care  to  establish,  I  shall  give  every  encouragement  to  new- 
comers, I  promise  you  ;  and  what  with  London  bankers,  and  Edin- 
burgh  Writers-to-the-Signet,  and  other  accidental  contributors,  1 
think  our  Magazine  is,  in  fact,  like  to  be  troubled  with  a  ^*  press  of 
matter." 

Tickler.  According  to  the  recent  averages,  we  may  count  on,  at 


Digitized  by 


Google 


i 


«  THE  MBIKLB  BLACK  DKIL.''  877 

least,  one  of  each  of  those  classes  of  emigris  yearly— they'll  cer- 
tainly prefer  New  St.  Kit's  to  the  United  Slates,  or  even  to  Za  BelU 
France. 

Wodroto.  I  thought ^ou  had  wished  an  exclusively  moral  popula- 
tion— now  really,  gentlemen,  fugitive  bankers — swindling  doers — 
people  that,  in  fact,  can't  well,  when  detected  thoroughly,  be  allowed 
to  remain  even  among  the  Whigs  of  the  old  country — with  submis- 
sion, 1  can't  but  iiave  my  doubts  how  these  folk  would  amalgamate. 

Tickler,  Be  not  over  curious.  Our  motto  must  be  quoad  capital, 
AlVs  fish  that  comes  to  the  net — come  pike— come  gudgeon  ! 

Macrabin,  Remember  the  origin  of  Home,  Doctor — the  brazen 
wolf,  the  Horatii  and  Curiatii,  Bos  locutus  est,  the  Sabine  Indies, 
and  other  points  of  learning.  Come,  fill  your  glasses — tingle-lingle- 
linor — hear  ye  the  music  o'  the  spoon,  Doctor? 

Shepherd  {sings,  accompanied  by  Macrabin  on  the  trombone  ) 

Let  them  cant  about  Adam  and-  Eve — frae  my  saul 
Fm  mair  gien  to  lamenting  Be^lzebab'a  fall. 
Though  the  beasts  were  a'  tame,  and  tlie  streams  were  a'  dear, 
And  the  bowers  were  in  blossom  a'  through  the  lang  year — 
Our  ain  warld  wad  serve  me  for  an  Eden  atweel, 
An  it  were  na  for  fear  o'  the  Meikle  Black  DeiL 
Chorus — **  Our  ain  warld,"  Ac 

I  was  bom  to  a  lairdship  on  sweet  Teviot  side, 
Hy  hills  they  are  green,  and  my  holms  they  are  wide, 
I  hae  ewes  by  the  hundred,  and  kye  by  the  score, 
And  there's  meal,  and  there's  maut»  and  there's  whisky  galore — 
And  this  warld  wad  serve  me  for  an  Eden  atweel. 
An  it  were  na  for  fear  o'  the  Meikle  Black  Deii 
Chorus — **  Our  ain  warld,"  Ac 

There  is  Jenny,  jimp  Jenny — and  blythe  bonny  Kate, 
There  is  Susan  the  slee — and  there's  Bauby  the  blate, 
There  is  Jessy,  my  darling  that  kairos  back  her  hair 
And  wee  fi-ighten  d  Meg,  that  I  met  at  the  fair — 
And  this  warld  would  serve  me  for  an  Eden  atweel, 
An  it  were  na  for  fear  o'  the  Meikle  Black  DeiL 
Chorus — **  Our  ain  warld,"  Ac 

Wodrow.  0  fie— O  fie— Mr.  Hogg  I  Mr.  Hogg  I  Mr.  Hogg  !  — 

{JSxit.) 
Macrabin,  Come,  now  the  old  cock's  off  at  last — ^let's  have  in  the 
oigars,  and  begin  work  seriously.  (^Left  smoking.) 


Digitized  by 


Google 


878  NOCTB8  AHBB08IAKJB. 


No.  XLVn.— DECEMBER,  1829. 
Thi  Snng^ery — Time^  sewen  o^ clock, — North  and  the  Skephent. 

Shepherd.  O,  sir!  but  there's  something  delightfu'  in  coal-fire 
gliiiimerin'  and  gloomin',  breakin'  out  every  noo  and  then  into  a 
flickerin'  bleeze  ;  and  whenever  ane  uses  the  poker  into  a  sudden  illu 
mination,  vivify  in'  the  pictured  paper  on  the  wa's,  and  settin'  a*  the 
range  o'  lookin'-glasses  a-low,  like  sae  mony  beacons  kindled  on  the 
taps  o'  hills,  burnin'  awn'  to  ane  anither  owre  a'  the  k intra  side,  on 
the  birth-day  night  o'  the  Duke  o'  Buccleuch,  or  that  o' his  marriage 
vfV  that  fair  English  Leddy* — God  bless  them  bailh,  and  send  them 
in  gude  time  a  circle  o'  bauld  sons  and  bonny  dochters,  to  uphaud 
the  stately  an'  noble  house  o'  the  King  o'  the  Border. 

North.  Amen.     James — a  caulker. 

Shepherd.  That  speerit's  far  aboon  proof.  There's  little  difference 
atween  awka  veety  and  awka  furtis.  Aye,  ma  man,  that  gars  your 
een  water.  Dicht  them  wi'  the  doylez,  and  then  tak  a  mouthfu'  out 
o'  the  jug  to  moderate  the  intensity  o'  the  pure  cretur.  Haud, 
baud  !  it's  no  sma'  yill,  but  strong  toddy,  sir.  Ths  body  '11  be  &' 
afore  aught  o'clock.     (Aside.) 

North.  This  jug,  James,  is  rather  wishy-washy ;  confound  me  if 
I  don*t  suspect  it  is  milk  and  water! 

Shepherd.  Plowp  in  some  specrit.  Let  me  try*t  It'll  do  noo, 
sir.  That's  capital  boiling  water,  and  tholes  dooble  it's  ain  wecht 
o'  cauld  Glenlivet.  Let's  dook  in  the  thermometer.  Up,  you  see, 
to  twa  hunder  and  twunty,  just  the  proper  toddy  pitch.  It's  miraw- 
culous ! 

North.  What  sort  of  a  night  out  of  doors,  James  1 

Shepherd.  A  fine  nicht,  sir,  and  like  the  season.  The  wund's  due 
east,  and  I'se  waurant  the  ships  at  anchor  in  the  roads  are  a'  rather 
coggly,  wi'  their  nebs  doon  the  Firth,  like  sae  mony  rocking-hooses. 
On  turnin'  the  comer  o'  Picardy,  a  blash  o'  sleet  like  a  verra  snaw- 
ba'  amaist  knocked  my  head  aff  my  shouthers;  and  as  for  my  hat, 
if  it  meet  with  nae  interruption,  it  maun  be  weel  on  to  West-CraigQ 
by  this  time,  for  it  flew  aff  in  a  whurlwind.  Ye  canna  see  the  sleet 
for  the  hurr ;  the  ghastly  lamps  are  amaist  entirely  overpoored  by 

*  The  Dakt  of  Bveol«iif  h  and  QvMiubvry  {^f'n.  in  1800)  muri«d  %  daagktcr  of  tk«  M«r- 

3 nil  of  Bath.    !£•  bad  bMB  a  mtmbM  of  PmI'i  Cabiaot  ia  1841-M,  aad  «4«  waa  Blistra«  of 
ka  Robw  to  Qaaoa  Yiotocia^M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


ME8.   GENTLE.  379 

tbe  wh  istlin'  darkness ;  and  as  for  moon  and  stars,  they're  a'  dead 
and  buried,  and  we  never  may  wutness  their  resurrection.  Auld 
women  frae  chimley-taps  are  cleytin*  wi'  a  crash  into  every  area, 
and  the  deevil's  tiriin'  the  kirks  outowre  a'  the  Synods  o'  Scotland. 
Whisht!  is  that  thunnerf 

NorUu  I  fear  scarcely — ^but  the  roar  in  the  vent  is  good,  James, 
and  tells  of  tempest.     Would  to  heaven  I  were  at  sea  I 

Shepherd.  That's  impious.  Yet  you  micht  aiblins  be  safe  aneuch 
in  a  bit  cockle-shell  o'  an  open  boat — for  some  folk  are  born  no  to 
be  drooned  — 

North,  There  goes  another  old  woman  ! 

Shepherd,  O  but  the  Yarrow  wull  be  a*  ae  red  roar  the  noo,  frae 
the  Loch  to  the  Ettrick.  Yet  wee  Jamie's  soun'  asleep  in  his  crib 
by  this  time,  and  dreamin',  it  may  be,  o'  paddlin'  amang  the  men- 
nows  in  the  silver  sand-banks  o'  simmer,  whare  the  glassy  stream 
is  nae  higher  than  his  knee ;  or  o'  chasin'  amang  the  broom  the 
young  linties  sent  by  the  sunshine,  afore  their  wings  are  weei  fea- 
thered, frae  their  mossy  cradle  in  the  briar- bush,  and  able  to  flee  just 
weel  aneuch  to  wile  awa'  on  and  on,  after  their  chirpin  flutter,  my 
dear  wee  canty  callant,  chasin'  first  ane  and  then  auither,  on  wings 
just  like  their  ain,  the  wings  o*  joy,  love,  and  hope;  fauldin'  them, 
in  a  disappointment  free  frae  ony  taint  o'  bitterness,  when  a*  the  bur- 
dies  hae  disappeared,  and  his  een,  as  he  sits  doon  on  the  knowe,  fix 
themselves  wi'  a  new  pleasure  on  the  bonny  bands  o'  gowans 
croodin'  round  his  feet. 

North.  A  bumper,  my  dear  Shepherd,  to  Mount  Benger. 

Shepherd.  Thank  ye,  sir,  thank  ye.  Oh!  my  dear  sir,  but  ye  hae 
a  gude  heart,  sound  at  the  core  as  an  apple  on  the  sunny  southside 
o'  the  tree — and  ruddy  as  an  apple,  sir,  is  your  cheek  — 

North,  Yes,  James,  a  life  of  temperance  preserves  — 

Shepherd,  Help  yoursel',  and  put  owre  the  jug.  There's  twunty 
gude  years  o*  wear  and  tear  in  you  yet,  Mr.  North — but  what  fur 
wunna  ye  marry  %  Dinna  be  frichtened — it's  naething  ava — and  it 
aften  grieves  my  heart  to  think  o'  you  lyin'  your  lane  in  that  state- 
bed,  which  canna  be  less  than  seven  feet  wide,  when  the  General's 
widow  — 

North.  I  have  long  wished  for  an  opportunity  of  confiding  to  you 
a  secret,  which  — 

Shepherd,  A  sacret !  Tell  nae  sacret  to  me — for  I  never  a'  my 
life  could  sleep  wi'  a  sacret  in  my  head,  ony  mair  than  wi'  the  lug- 
ache.  But  if  you're  merely  gaun  to  tell  me  that  ye  hae  skrewed  up 
your  courage  at  last  to  marry  her,  say't,  du't  and  be  dune  wi't,  for 
she's  a  comely  and  a  cozey  cretur,  yon  Mrs.  Gentle,  and  it  'U  do  my 
een  gude  to  see  you  marchin'  up  wi'  her,  haun  an'  haun  to  the  Hy- 
meneal Altar. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


880  NOCTES  AHBROBIA^^ 

North,  On  Christmas  day,  my  dear  James,  we  shall  be  one  spirit. 

Shepherd,  And  ae  flehh.  Hurraw  !  hurraw  !  hurraw !  Gies  your 
haun'  on  that,  my  auid  hearty  !  What  a  gran'  echo's  in  yon  corner 
o'  the  roof!  hear  till't  smackin'  loofs  after  us,  as  if  Cupid  himsel' 
were  in  the  cornice ! 

North.  You  must  write  our  Epithalamium. 

Shepherd,  That  I  wull,  wi'  a'  my  birr,  and  sae  wull  Delta,  and 
sae  wull  the  Doctor,*  and  sae,  Fm  sure,  wull  Mr.  Wudsworth ;  and 
1  can  answer  for  Sir  Walter 

North,  Who  has  kindly  promised  to  give  away  the  Bride. 

Shepherd,  1  could  greet  to  think  that  Icanna  be  the  BestMan.f 

North.  Tickler  has 

Shepherd,  Capital— capital !  I  see  him — look,  there  he  is — wi'his 
speck-and-span-new  sky-blue  coat  wi'  siller  buttons,  snaw-white 
waistcoat  wi'  gracefu'  flaps,  licht  casimer  knee-breeks  wi'  lang  ties, 
flesh-colored  silk-stodcings  wi'  flowered  gushets,  pumps  brushed  up 
to  a  perfect  polish  a'  roun'  the  buckles  crystal-set,  a  dash  o*  powther 
in  his  hair,  een  bricht  as  diamonds,  the  face  o'  him  like  the  verra 
sun,  chin  shaven  smooth  as  satin,  mouth — saw  ye  ever  sic  teeth  in 
a  man's  head  at  his  time  o*  life — mantling  wi'  jocund  benisons,  and 
the  haill  feegar  o'  the  incomparable  fallow,  frae  tap  to  tae,  sax  feet 
fowre  inches  and  a  hawf  gude  measure,  instinck  wi'  condolence  and 
congratulation,  as  if  at  times  he  were  almost  believing  Buchanan 
Lodge  was  Southside — that  he  was  changin'  places  wi'  you,  in  a 
sweet  sort  o'  jookery-pawkery — that  he  was  Christopher  Korth,  and 
Mrs.  Gentle  on  the  verra  brink  o*  becoming  Mrs.  Tickler  1 

North,  James,  you  make  me  jealous. 

Shepherd,  For  Heaven's  sake,  sir,  dinna  split  on  that  rock.  Re- 
member Othello,  and  hoo  be  smothered  his  wife  wi'  the  bowster. 
But  saft  lie  the  bowster  aneath  your  twa  happy  heads,  and  plea- 
santly may  your  goold  watch  keep  tick  in*  throughout  the  night,  in 
accompaniment  wi'  the  beatings  o'  your  twa  worthy  and  wedded 
hearts. 

North,  Methinks,  James,  the  wind  has  shifted  round  to  the 

Sheplierd,     (y  a*  the  airts  the  wuod  oan  blaw, 
I  dearly  loe  tLe  west, 
For  tliere  the  bomiy  widow  livea, 
The  ane  that  I  loe  best  I 

North.  Let  us  endeavor  to  change  the  subject.  How  many  poets, 
think  ye,  James,  at  the  present  moment,  may  be  in  Edinburgh  ? 

SJiepherd,  Baith  sexes!  Were  I  appointed,  during  a  season  o* 
distress,  to  the  head  o'  the  Commissawriat  Department  in  a  great 

*  MMBiih.— 11.  t  B—t  JICb»  :~Th«  Bridegroom'!  friend  st  the  weddinf.— IL 


Digitized  by 


Google 


PUNISHMENT  OF  POETET.  381 

Baiie-Soup-Dispensary,  for  behoof  and  in  behalf  o'  the  inspired  pairt 
o'  the  poppilation  o*  Enibro',  1  think  it  wad  na  be  safe  to  take  the 
Bveroge — supposing  the  dole  to  each  beggar  to  be  twice  a-day — 
aneath  twunty  thoosand  rawtions. 

North,  The  existence  of  such  a  class  of  persons  really  becomes 
matter  of  serious  consideration  to  the  State. 

Shepherd,  Wad  ye  be  for  pittin'  them  down  by  the  strong  arm  o' 
the  Law  ? 

North.  Why,  you  see,  James,  before  we  could  reach  them  it 
would  be  necessary  to  alter  the  whole  Criminal  Jurisprudence  of 
Scotland. 

Shepherd,  I  dinna  see  that  ava'.  Let  it  just  be  enacted,  neist  ses- 
sion o'  Parliament,  that  the  punishment  o'  the  first  offence  shall  be 
sax  months'  imprisonment  on  crowdy,  o'  ihe  second  Botany ,•  and  the 
third  death  without  benefit  o'  clergy.  But  stop  awee — cut  afT  the 
hinner  end  o'  that  last  claws,  and  let  the  meenisters  o'  religion  be 
admitted  to  the  condemned  cells. 

North,  Define  *•  First  Offence." 

Shepherd.  Aye,  that  gars  ane  scurb  their  head.  I  begin  to  see 
into  the  difficulties  o'  Pienal  Legislawtion. 

North.  Then,  James,  think  on  the  folly  of  rewarding  a  miserable 
Driveller,  for  his  first  offence,  with  board  and  lodging  for  six  months ! 

Shepherd,  We  maun  gie  up  the  crowdy.  Let  the  first  offence, 
then,  be  Botany. 

North.  We  are  then  brought  to  the  discussion  of  one  of  the  most 
puzzling  problems  in  the  whole  range  of 

Shepherd.  Just  to  prevent  that,  for  the  solution  o'  sic  a  puzzling 
problem  would  be  a  national  nuisance,  let  us  mercifully  substitute, 
at  ance  and  to  be  dune  wi't,  for  the  verra  first  offence  o'  the  kind, 
however  sma',  and  however  inaccurately  defined,  neither  maun  we 
be  verra  pernickety  about  evidence,  the  punishment  o'  death. 

North,  I  fear  hanging  would  not  answer  the  desired  end. 

Shepherd.  Answer  the  end  ? 

Nortli.  A  sort  of  spurious  sympathy  might  be  created  in  the  souls 
of  the  silly  ones,  with  the  poor  poetasters  following  one  another, 
with  mincing  steps,  up  the  scaffold-ladder,  and  then  looking  round 
upon  the  crowd  with  their  "  eyes  in  a  fine  frenzy  rolling,"  and  per- 
haps giving  Hangy  their  last  speeches  and  dying  words  to  distribute, 
in  the  shape  of  sonnets,  odes,  and  elegies,  all  the  while  looking  at 
once  Jemmy-Jessamyish  and  Jacky-Lackadaisical,  with  the  collars 
of  their  shirts,  for  the  nonce,  a-la-Byron,  and  their  tuneful  throats, 
white  as  those  of  so  many  Boat  ding-School-Misses,  most  piteous  to 
behold,  too  rudely  visited  by  a  hempen  neckcloth.  There  would  be 
a  powerful  and  dangerous  reaction. 

*  Ia  thoM  dayB,  conTioto  irere  traasportod  to  BoUa j  Bay,  Neiir  South  Walts.— Bl 


Digitized  by 


Google 


883  NOCrSB  AMBB06IAN.fi. 

Shepherd.  I  see  farther  and  farther  ben  intil  the  darkness  o'  Pimial 
Legislawtion.  There  is  but  ae  resource  left.  Tak  the  punishment 
into  your  ain  hands.  The  nation  expects  it,  sir.  Gie  them  Thb 
Kkout. 

North.  I  will. 

Shepherd,  Horridly  conceese ! 

North,  Unroll  a  few  yards  of  yonder  List,  James,  and  read  off  the 
first  fifty  names. 

Shepherd,  Mercy  on  us !  Lang  as  the  signatures  of  the  Roman 
Catholic  Petition,  or  the  Address  to  Queen  Caroline.  How  far  wad 
it  reach  ? 

North.  It  is  not  so  long  as  you  imagine,  James.  It  is  precisely 
as  long  as  the  front  of  the  Lodge. 

Shepherd.  Forty  yards  !  A  hunder  and  twenty  feet  o'  the  names 
o'  Poets  a'  fiourisbin'  in  Embro*  at  ae  era ! 

North.  Read  awa,  James. 

Shepherd,  A*  arranged  alphabetically,  as  I  hope  to  be  shaved! 
Puir  fallow  AAA!  Little  did  your  father  think,  when  he  was 
haudin'  ye  up  in  lang  frocks,  a  skirlin'  babby,  to  be  chrissenM  after 
your  uncle  and  your  granpawpa,  that  in  less  than  twunty  years,  you 
were  to  be  rebaptized  in  bluid,  under  the  Knout  o*  ane  without  bow 
els  and  without  ruth  !  {Letting  the  LietfaU  out  of  his  hands.)  I  hae 
nae  heart  to  get  beyond  thae  three  maist  misfortunate  and  ill-chosen 
initials  !  I'm  gettin'  a  wee  sick — whare*s  the  Glenlivet  1  Hech ! 
But  Tm  better  noo.  Puir  chiel',  I  wuss  I  hadna  ken't  him ;  but 
it^s  no  twa  months  back  sin*  he  was  at  Mount  Benger,  and  led 
wi'  me  a  series  o'  Sonnets  on  Puddock-stools,  on  the  model  o' 
Milton's. 

North.  No  invidious  appeal  to  my  mercy,  James. 

Shepherd,  Let  it  at  least  temper  your  justice ;  yet  sure  aneuch 
never  was  there  sic  a  screed  o*  vermin. 

North,  Never  since  the  Egyptian  plague  of  files  and  lice. 

Shepherd.  Dinna  be  too  severe,  sir,  dinna  be  too  severe.  Rather 
ca'  them  froggies. 

North.  Be  it  so.     As  when,  according  to  Cowper  — 

A  race  obscene, 
Spawo'd  in  the  muddy  beds  of  Nile,  came  forth 
PuUutiog  Egypt :  gardens,  fields,  and  plains, 
Were  covered  with  the  pest ;  the  streets  were  fill'd ; 
The  croaking  nuisance  lurkM  in  every  uook ; 
Nor  palaces,  nor  even  chambers  'scaped; 
And  the  land  stank — so  numerous  was  the  fry. 

Shepherd.  The  land  stank !  Cowper  meant  there,  a'  Egypt  But 
in  Embro',  where  The  Land  means,  ye  ken,  a  Tenement  or  Tene- 
ments, a  batch  o'  houses,  a  continuous  series  o'  lodgings,  the  ezpres- 


Digitized  by 


Google 


BOOTCH  F0ETIJN68.  888 

tion  *'  the  land  stank,"  is  fearsomely  intensified  to  the  nostrils  o' 
the  imagination  o'  ilka  individual  eiUier  in  the  New  or  the  Auld 
Town. 

North.  It  must  have  brought  down  the  price  of  lodgings. 

Shepherd,  Mony  o'  them  wunna  let  at  a'.  You  canna  gang  doun 
a  close  without  jostlin'  again'  the  vermin.  Shoals  keep  perpetually 
pourin*  doon  the  common-stairs.  Wantin'  to  hae  a  ffude  sight  o' 
the  sea,  last  time  I  was  here,  1  gaed  up  to  the  Gallon  Hill.  There 
was  half-a-dizzen  decided  anes  crawlin'  aneath  the  pillars  o'  the  Par- 
then  ion — and  I  afterwards  stumbled  on  as  mony  mair  on  the  tap  o' 
Keelson's  Moniment. 

North.  It  is  shocking  to  think  that  our  churches  are  infested 
by 

Shepherd.  Na,  what's  waur  than  that,  this  very  evenin'  I  met  ane 
loupin'  doon  Ambrose's  main  staircase.  Tappytoorie  had  luckily 
met  him  on  his  way  up ;  and  having  the  poker  in  his  haun — he  had 
been  ripein'  the  ribs  o'  the  Snuggery — Tappy  charged  him  like  a 
lancer,  and  ye  never  saw  sic  spangs  as  the  cretur,  when  I  met  him, 
was  makin'  towards  the  front  door. 

North.  A  very  few  young  men  of  true  poetical  genius,  and  more 
of  true  poetical  feeling,  we  have  among  us,  James,  nevertheless; 
and  then,  some  day  soon,  I  propose  to  praise 

Shepherd.  Without  pleasin'  them — for  unless  you  lay't  on  six 
inches  think — the  butter  I  mean — no  the  knowt — they'll  misca' 
you  ahint  your  back  for  a  niggard.  Then,  hoo  they  butter  ane 
anither — and  their  ain  sells  !  Genius — genius — that's  aye  their 
watchword  and  reply — but  a's  no  gowd  that  glitters — paste's  no 
pearls — a  Scotch  pebble's  no  a  Golconda  gem — neither  is  a  bit  glass 
bead  a  diamond — nor  a  leaf  o'  tinsy  a  burnished  sheet  o*  the  ore  for 
which  kingdoms  are  bought  and  sold,  and  the  human  conscience  sent 
into  thrall  to  the  powers  o'  darkness. 

North.  Modest  merit  must  be  encouraged  and  fostered. 

Shepherd.  Whare  wull  ye  find  it? 

North,  Why  there,  for  example,  are  our  four  countrymen — and  I 
might  notice  others.     Pringle,  and  Malcolm,  and  Hetherington.* 

Shepherd.  Fine  fallows,  a'  the  Fowre.     Here's  to  them  ! 

North.  The  night  improves,  and  must  be  almost  at  its  best.    That 

*  Tbomai  Pringle  wat  a  Scotchman  irho,  af^cr  Tariona  literary  Mvaya.  waa  Editor  of  BUck- 
t0Mif*«  Mag-atiney  irbich  iri*  commenced  in  April,  1817.  He  iraa  adeciaed  Liberal  in  politics, 
Blackwood  was  a  Tory.  Tbey  serarated,  Pringle  ^oing  orer  to  ComtUbU't  Kdinkurgh  Mtiga- 
stiir,  Biackirood  remainir  g  -with  Maga.  After  tbi*.  Pnngie  emigrated  to  8outh  Africa  (and 
•▼entually  pnblirbed  an  interesting  accent  t  of  hi*  Kesidence  there)  bnt  he  remrned  to  Eng- 
land, where  he  became  Secretary  of  the  Anti-Slavery  Society,  and  conducted  '* Friendship^t 
Offaring,"  a  popular  annual,  for  many  yean.  He  died  in  18^.--John  Malcolm,  who  bad  bees 
%M  officer  in  the  British  arm),  wrote  a  good  deal  for  Annuals  and  Magaxinea,  published  tmt 
▼olnmaa  of  poetry,  and  died  at  Edinburgh  .—William  Hatheriiftoa  waa  a  amall  iU9rwi§m, 
wko  flnttano  among  the  ptriodioala,  chiefly  aa  a  writer  of  Teiaaa.— Bf. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


884  KOCTBS  AMBKOSIANJS. 

18  a  first  rate  how] !  Well  done,  hail.  I  pity  the  poor  hot-houses. 
The  stones  cannot  be  less  than  sugar-almonds. 

Shepherd,  Shoogger-awmons !  They're  like  guse-eggs.  If  the 
lozens  were  na  pawtent  plate,  lang  ere  noo  they  would  bae  a'  flown 
into  flinders.  But  they're  ball-proof.  They  wudna  break  though 
you  were  to  let  afT  a  pistol. 

North.  What,  James,  is  your  favorite  weather? 

Shepherd.  A  clear,  hard,  black  frost.  Sky  vvithout  a  clud — sun 
bright,  but  almost  cold — earth  firm  aneath  your  feet  as  a  rock — 
trees  silent,  but  not  asleep  wi*  their  budded  branches — ice-edged 
rivers  amaist  mute  and  motionless,. yet  wimplin'  awee,  and  mur- 
muring dozingly  as  in  a  dream — the  air  or  atmosphere  sae  rarified 
by  the  mysterious  alcheniy  o'  that  wonderfu'  Wuzard,  Wunter,  that 
when  ye  draw  in  your  breath,  ye're  no  sensible  o'  ha*in  ony  lungs; 
wi'  sic  a  celestial  coolness  does  the  spirit  o'  tiie  middle  region  per- 
vade and  permeate  the  totality  o'  ane's  hail  created  existence,  sowle 
and  body  being  but  ae  essence,  the  pulses  o'  ane  indistinguishable 
frae  the  feelings  o*  the  ither,  materialism  and  immaterialism  just  ane 
and  the  same  thing,  without  ony  perceptible  shade  o'  difiereuce,  and 
the  immortality  o'  the  sowle  felt  in  as  sure  a  faith  as  the  now  of  its 
being,  sae  that  ilka  thocht  is  as  pious  as  a  prayer,  and  the  happy 
habitude  o'  the  entire  man  an  absolute  religion. 

North,  James,  my  dear  friend,  you  have  fine  eyes  and  a  noble 
forehead.     Has  Mr.  Combe*  ever  manipulated  your  caput  1 

Shepherd,  Ou,  aye.  A'  my  thretty-three  organs  or  iauculties  are 
—enormous. 

North,  In  my  development  wonder  is  very  large ;  and  therefore 
you  may  suppose  how  I  am  astonished.  But,  my  dear  weather-wise- 
acre, proceed  with  your  description. 

Shepherd,  Then,  sir,  what  a  glorious  appeteet  in  a  black  frost! 
Corned  beef  and  greens  send  up  in  their  steam  your  soul  to  heaven. 
The  greediest  gluttony  is  satisfied  and  becomes  a  virtue.  Elating, 
for  eating's  sake,  and  in  oblivion  o'  its  feenal  cause,  is  then  the  mo^t 
sacred  o'  household  duties.  The  sweat- drops  that  stand  on  yonr 
brow,  while  your  jaws  are  clunkling,  are  beautifu'  as  the  dew  on  the 
mountain  at  sunrise — as  poetical  as  the  foam-bells  on  the  bosom  o 
the  glitterin'  river.  The  music  o'  knives  and  forks  is  like  that  o' 
"  flutes  and  safl  recorders,"  "  breathing  deliberate  valor ;"  and  think, 
sir,  oh  think !  hoo  the  imagination  is  roosed  by  the  power  o*  con- 

*  6«orf e  Comb«,  a  rargeon  in  Bdinbnrch,  waa  one  of  Spurzheim't  earliest  adherants  in 
Great  Britain,  and  hu  done  more  bj  hie  Lectures  and  writings,  to  elerate  Flirenology  to  a 
Science  than  roost  persons  of  his  time.  In  this  he  was  assisted  bj  his  brother,  the  late  Dr 
Andrew  Combe,  one  of  the  founders  of  the  Edinburgh  Phrenological  Bocietj.  to  whoea  pub* 
liahed  Transactions,  and  in  othar  organs  of  communication  with  the  Many,  he  onntri bated 
many  and  able  articles.  In  1827  he  was  elected  President  of  the  Phrenological  Society.  He 
died  in  1847,  (he  had  Tisited  the  United  Sutesin  th^  preceding  snmmrr,)  and  his  writings  on 
Phrenology  and  Physiology  hare  obtained  him  a  rery  extended  reputation  ~M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


k  cbash!  386 

trast  between  the  gor-cock  lyin'  wi'  his  buttered  breast  on  the  braid 
o'  his  back  upon  a  bed  o'  brown  toasted  breed,  and  whurrin'  avva'  in 
vain  doon  the  wund  afore  the  death-shot,  and  then  tapselteerry  head 
over  heels,  on  the  blue  lift,  and  doon  on  the  greensward  or  the 
blooming  heather,  a  battered  and  bluidy  bunch  o'  plumage,  gorgeous 
and  glorious  still  in  the  dead-thraws,  your  only  bird  of  Para- 
dise ! Death  and  destruction  ! 

(  The  small  oriel  window  of  the  Snuggery  is  bloton  in  with  a 

tremendous  crash.     North  and  the  Shepherd  prostrated 

among  the  ruins.) 

North.  Are  you  among  the  survivors,  James  ?  wounded  or  dead  ! 

(An  awful  pause,)    Alas!  alas!  who  will  write  my  Epithalamium? 

And  must  1  live  to  see  the  day  on  which,  O  gentle  Shepherd,  these 

withered  hands  of  mine  must  falter  thy  Epicedia ! 

Shepherd,  O,  tell  nie,  sir,  if  the  toddy  jug  has  been  upset  in  this 
catastrophe,  or  the  Tower  of  Babel  and  a'  the  speerits  ! 

Norths  (supporting  himself  on  his  elbow,  and  eyeing  the  festal 
hoard.)  Jug  and  Tower  are  both  miraculously  preserved  amidst  the 
ruins ! 

Shepherd.  Then  am  I  a  dead  man,  and  lyin'  in  a  pool  o'  bluid. 
Oh !  dear  me !  Oh !  dear  me !  a  bit  broken  lozen  has  cut  my 
jugular ! 

North,  Don't  yet  give  yourself  up,  my  dear,  dear  Shepherd,  for 
a  dead  man.  Aye — here's  my  crutch — 1  shall  be  on  my  legs  pre- 
sently, surely  they  cannot  both  be  broken  ;  and  if  I  can  but  get  at 
my  tape-garter,  1  do  not  despair  of  being  able  to  tie  up  the  carotid. 
Shepherd,  Pu'  the  bell  for  a  needle  and  thread.  What's  this  ? 
Tm  fcntin* ! 

(Shepherd  faints  away ;    and  North  having  recovered  his 

feet^  and  rung  the  bell  violently^  enter  Mr.  Ambrose,  Mok. 

Cadet,  Sir  David  Gam,  King  Pepin,  and  Tappttourie, 

cum  multis  aliis.) 

North,  Away  for  Liston — one  and  all  of  you,  away  like  lightning 

for  Liston.     You  alone,  Ambrose,  support  Mr.  Ilogg  in  this,  I  fear, 

mortal  swoon.     Don't  take  him  by  the  feet,  Ambrose,  but  lift  up 

his  head,  and  support  it  on  your  knee. 

(Mr.  Ambrose,  greatly  flurried^  but  with  much  tenderness, 
obeys  the  mandate.) 
Shepherd,  {opening  his  eyes,)  Are  you  come  hither,  too,  Awm- 
rose  1  'Tis  a  dreadfu' place.  What  a  fire  ?  But  let  us  speak  loun, 
or  Clootie  '11  hear  us.  Is  he  ben  the  hoose?  Oh !  Mr.  North,  pity 
me  the  day,  are  you  here  too,  and  has  a'  our  daffin'  come  to  this  at 
last? 

North,  Where,  my  dear  James,  do  you  think  you  arel     In  the 
Hotel? 

Vol.  m.— 26 


Digitized  by 


Google 


386  KOCTBS   AMBBOBIABJL 

Shepherd,  Aye,  aye,  hothell  indeed.  I  swarfed  awa'  in  a  blaidy 
swoon,  and  hae  awaukened  in  a  fearfu'  eternity.  Nodes  Ambrosi- 
an»,  indeed !  And  whare !  oh !  whare  is  the  puir,  sbort-haun'dy 
harmless  body,  Gurney  %  Hae  we  puM  him  doon  wi'  us  to  the  bot- 
tomless pit? 

North,  Mr.  Ambrose,  let  me  support  his  head,  while  you  bring 
the  Tower  of  Babel. 

(Mb.  Ambrosb  bringe  the    Tower  of  JBabel,  and  applies  the 
battleraents  to  the  Shephkrd*8  lips,) 

Shepherd,  Whusky  here?  I  daurna  taste  it,  for  it  can  be  naething 
but  melted  sulphur.  Yet  let  me  just  pree*t«  It  has  a  roaist  un- 
earthly similitude  to  Glenlivet.  Oh !  Mr.  North — Mr.  North — tak 
afifthae  horns  frae  your  head,  for  they're  awfu'  fearsome.  Hae  you 
gotten  a  tail,  too  ?  And  are  you,  or  are  you  not,  answer  me  that 
single  question,  an  Imp  o'  Darkness? 

North.  Bear  a  hand,  Mr.  Ambrose,  and  give  Mr.  Hogg  London- 
carries  to  his  chair. 

(North  and  Ambrose  mutually  cross  wrists^  and  heat  the 
Shepherd  to  his  seat,) 

Shepherd,  Hoo  the  wund  sughs  through  the  lozenlesa  wundow, 
awaukenin'  into  tenfold  fury  the  Blast  Furnace. 

Re-enter  Mon.  Cadet,  Kino  Pepin,  Sir  Datid  Gam,  and 
Tappytourie. 

Mon,  Cadet,  Mr.  Liston  has  lefl  town  to  attend  the  Perth  Break- 
neck, which  has  had  an  overturn  on  Queensferry  Hill — and  'tis  said 
many  legs  and  heads  are  fraotured. 

Tappytourie,  He'll  no  be  back  afore  midnicht 

Ambrose^  {chastising  Tappy.)  How  dare  you  speak,  sirl 

North,  Most  unlucky  that  the  capsize  had  not  been  delayed  for 
ten  minutes.     How  do  you  feel  now,  James  ? 

Shepherd,  Feel !  I  never  was  better  in  my  life.  But  what's  the 
matter  wi'  your  nose,  sir?  About  halfway  doon  the  middle,  it  has 
taken  a  turn  at  right  angles  towards  your  lefl  lug.  Ane  o'  the 
splinter-bars  o'  the  window  has  bashed  it  frae  the  line  o'  prcipriety, 
and  you're  a  fricht  for  life.  Only  look  at  him,  gentlemen,  saw  ye 
ever  siecan  a  pheesiognomy  ? 

North.  Tarriers,  begone !  (Exeunt  omnes,) 

Shepherd,  We're  twa  daft  fules — that's  sure  aneuch — and  did  the 
public  ken  o'  this,  the  idiowits  wad  cry  out,  "  Buffoonery — Buffoon- 
ery ! "     But  we  can  never  sit  here  without  lozens. 
Re-enter  Mr.  Ambrose,  and  a  carpenter^  with  a  new  window-frame. 

North,  Let  me  adjust  the  pulleys.  It  fits  to  a  hair.  Well  done, 
deacon.  Expedition's  the  soul  of  business— off  with  your  caulker — 
Thank  you — Good  night 

(Mb.  Ambrose  and  carpenter  exeunt  with  the  debris,) 


Digitized  by 


Google 


THB  DKVIL.  387 

Shepherd.  Joking  and  jinks  apart,  Mr.  North,  there's  bluid  or 
your  nose.  Let  me  pit  a  bit  o'  black  stickin'  plaister  on't.  There 
— Mrs.  Gentle  wud  think  you  unko  killin'  wi'  that  beauty  spot  on 
your  neb. 

North.  Hush,    Pray,  James,  do  you  believe  in  the  Devill 

Shepherd,  Just  as  firmly  as  I  believe  in  you,  sir.  Yet,  I  confess, 
I  never  could  see  the  sin  in  abusin'  the  neer-do-weel ;  whereas,  roony 
folk,  no  ower  and  abiine  religious,  in  ither  respects,  baud  up  their 
hauns  and  the  whites  o'  their  een  whenever  you  satireeze  Satan — 
and  cry,  "  Whisht,  whisht ! "  My  mind  never  yet  has  a*  my  days 
got  rid  o'  ony  early  impression  ;  and  against  baith  reason  and  reve- 
lation, I  canna  think  o'  the  Deevil  even  yet,  without  seeiu'  him  wi' 
great  big  goggle  fiery  een,  a  mouth  like  a  foumart-trap,  the  horns  o' 
a  Lancashire  kyloe,  and  a  tufled  tail  atween  that  o'  a  bill's,  a  lion's, 
and  a  teeger's.  Let  me  see  him  when  I  wull,  sleepin'  or  waukin', 
he's  aye  the  verra  leevin'  image  o'  a  wood-cut. 

North,  Mr.  Southey,  in  some  of  his  inimitable  ballads,  has  turned 
him  into  such  ridicule,  that  he  has  laid  his  tail  entirely  aside,  screw- 
ed off  his  horns,  hid  his  hoofs  in  Wellingtons,  and  appeared,  of  late 
years,  in  shape  and  garb  more  worthy  of  the  Prince  of  the  Air,*  I 
have  seen  such  people  turn  up  the  whites  of  their  eyes  at  the  Laure- 
ate's profanit} — forgetting  that  wit  and  humor  are  never  better  em- 
ployed than  against  superstition. 

Shepherd,  Aye,  Mr.  Soothey's  a  real  wutty  man,  forbye  being  a 
great  poet.  But  do  you  ken,  for  a'  that,  my  hair  stands  on  end  o'  it's 
tinglin'  roots,  and  my  skin  amaist  crawls  aff  my  body,  whenever,  by 
a  blink  o^  the  storm-drivin'  moon,  in  a  mirk  nicht,  1  chance  to  for- 
gather wi'  auld  Clootie,  Hornie,  and  Tufl-Tail,  in  the  middle  o'  some 
wide  moor,  nmang  hags,  and  peat-mosses,  and  quagmires,  nae  house 
within  mony  miles,  and  the  uncertain  wealher-gleam,  blackened  by 
some  auld  wood,  swingin'  and  sughin'  to  the  wind,  as  if  hotchin'  wi' 
warlocks. 

North.  Poo— I  should  at  once  take  the  bull  by  the  horns — or 
seizing  him  by  the  tail,  drive  him  with  my  a*utch  into  the  nearest 
loch. 

Shepherd.  It's  easy  speakin'.  But  you  see,  sir,  he  never  appears 
V,  to  a  man  that's  no  frichtened  aforehaun  out  o'  his  seven  senses — 
and  imagination  is  the  greatest  cooard  on  earth,  breakin'  out  into  a 
'  cauld  sweat,  his  heart  loup,  loupin'  like  a  fish  in  a  creel,  and  the  re- 
tina o*  his  ee  rcpresentin'  a'  things,  mair  especially  them  that's  ony 
way  infernal,  in  gruesome  features,  dreadfully  disordered ;  till  rea- 
son is  shaken  by  the  same  panic,  judgment  lost,  and  the  haill  sowle 

*  SoQthsy  npraMnted  him  u  attired  in  *'  his  BnndaT  bett,"  and,  after  mentioning  the  oolora 
of  hie  coat  and  nether  £irmente.  informs  ne  that,  in  tne  latter,  ^'^ there  vaa  a  hole  where  his 
tail  came  through.**— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


888  NOCTBS   AMBROBIAJNfJS. 

distracted  in  the  insanity  o^  Fear,  till  you're  nae  better  than  a  stark- 
staring  madman. 

North,  Good — James — good. 

Shepherd.  In  sic  a  mood  could  ony  Christian  cretur,  even  Mr. 
Soothey  himsel',  tak'  haud  o'  the  dell  either  by  the  horns  or  the 
tail  ? — mair  likely  that  in  frenzied  desperation  you  loup  wi'  a  spang 
on  the  bristly  back  o*  the  Evil  Ane,  wha  gallops  aff  wi'  you  de- 
mented into  some  loch,  where  you  are  found  floatin'  in  the  mornin', 
a  swollen  corp,  wi'  the  mark  o'  claws  on  your  hawse,  your  een 
hangin*  out  o'  their  sockets;  your  head  scalped  wi*  something  waur 
than  a  tammyhawk,  and  no  a  single  Lane  in  your  body  that's  no 
ground  to  mash  like  a  malefactor's  on  the  wheel,  for  haviu'  curst  the 
Holy  Inquisition. 

North.  Why,  my  dear  Shepherd,  genius,  I  feel,  can  render  terrible 
even  the  meanest  superstition. 

Shepherd.  Meanness  and  majesty  signify  naething  in  the  super- 
natural. I've  seen  an  expression  in  the  een  o'  a  pyet,  wi'  its  head 
turned  to  the  ae  side,  and  though  in  general  a  shy  bird,  no  carin' 
for  you  though  you  present  your  rung  at  it  as  if  you  were  gaun  to 
shoot  it  wi'  a  gun,  that  has  made  my  verra  heartstrings  crunkle  up 
wi'  the  thochts  o'  some  indefinite  evil  comin'  I  kent  not  frae  what 
quarter  o'  the  lowerin'  heavens.  For  pyets,  at  certain  times  and 
places,  are  no  canny,  and  their  nebs  look  as  if  they  were  peckin'  at 
mort-cloths. 

North.  Cross  him  out,  James-— cross  him  out. 

Shepherd.  A  raven  ruggin'  at  the  booels  o'  a  dead  horse  is  nae- 
thing ;  but  ane  sittin'  a*  by  himsel'  on  a  rock,  in  some  lanely  glen, 
and  croak  croakin',  naebody  can  think  why,  noo  lookin'  savagely  up 
at  the  sun,  and  noo  teariii',  no  in  hunger,  for  his  crap's  fu'  o'  car- 
rion, but  in  anger  and  rage,  the  moss  aneath  him  wi*  beak  or  taw- 
Ions  ;  and  though  you  shout  at  him  wi'  a'  your  micht,  never  steerin* 
a  single  fit  frae  his  stance,  but  absolutely  lauchin'  at  you  wi'  an 
horrid  guller  in  the  sooty  throat  o'  him,  in  derision  o'  you,  ane  o* 
Gcid's  reasonable  creaturs — I  say,  sir,  that  sic  a  bird,  wi'  sic  unac- 
coontable  conduct,  in  sic  an  inhuman  solitude,  is  a  frichtsome 
demon  ;  and  that  when  you  see  him  hop,  hoppin'  awa',  wi'  great 
jumps  in  amang  the  region  o'  rocks,  you  wudna  follow  him  into  his 
auncient  lair  for  ony  consideration  whatsomever,  but  turn  your  face 
doon  the  glen,  and  thank  God  at  the  soun  o'  some  distant  bagpipe. 
A'  men  are  augurs.  Yet  sittin'  here,  what  care  I  for  a  raven  mair 
than  for  a  howtowdy  ? 

North.  The  devil  in  Scotland,  during  the  days  of  witchcraft,  was 
a  most  contemptible  character. 

Shepherd.  Sae  muckle  the  better.  It  showed  that  sin  maun  be  a 
low  base  state,  when  a  superstitious  age  could  embody  it  in  nae 


Digitized  by 


Google 


THB  DBVIL.  389 

mair  imposing  impersonation.  I  should  like  to  ken,  distinckly,  the 
origin  o'  Scottish  witchcraft.  Was't  altogether  indigenous,  think  ye, 
sir  ?  or  coft  or  borrowed  frae  other  kintras  ? 

North,  I  am  writing  a  series  of  articles  on  witchcraft,  James,  and 
must  not  forestall  myself  at  a  Noctes. 

Shepherd,  Keep  it  a*  yourseP,  and  nae  loss.  Had  I  been  bora 
then  and  chosen  to  play  the  deevil 

North.  You  could  not  have  done  so  more  effectually  than  you  did 
some  dozen  years  ago,  by  writing  the  Chaldee  Manuscript. 

Shepherd,  Hoots! — I  wadna  hae  condescended  to  let  auld  flae- 
bitten  wutches  kiss 

North,  That  practice  certainly  showed  the  devil  to  be  no  gentle- 
man.    But,  pray,  whoever  thought  he  was  one? 

Shepherd,  Didna  Milton  ? 

North,  No,  James.  Milton  makes  Satan — Lucifer  himself-- 
Prince  of  the  Morning — squat  down  a  toad  by  the  ear  of  Eve  asleep 
in  Adam's  bosom  in  the  nuptial-bower  of  Paradise. 

Shepherd,  An  eavesdropper.  Nae  mair  despicable  character  on 
earth  or  in  hell. 

North,  And  aflerwards,  James,  in  the  hall  of  that  dark  consistory, 
in  the  presence-chamber  of  Pandemonium,  when  suddenly  to  the 
startled  gaze  of  all  his  assembled  peers,  their  great  Sultaun,  with 
"  fulgent  head,"  "  star-bright  appears,"  and  godlike  addresses  the 
demons  ! — what  happens  ?  a  dismal  universal  hiss — and  all  are  ser- 
pents? 

Shepherd,  Gran'  is  the  passage — and  out  o'  a'  bounds  magnificent, 
ayont  ony  ither  imagination  o*  a*  the  sons  o*  men. 

North,  Yes,  my  dear  James — the  devil,  depend  upon  it,  is  intua 
ei  in  cute — a  poor  pitiful  scoundrel. 

Shepherd,  Yet  I  canna  quite  agree  wi'  Young  in  his  Night 
Thoughts,  who  says,  **  Satan,  thou  art  a  dunce  /"  I  canna  picture 
him  to  my  mind's  ee  sittin  yrV  his  finger  in  his  mouth,  at  the  doup 
o'  the  furm — Booby. 

North,  Yet  you  must  allow  that  his  education  has  been  very 
much  neglected — that  his  knowledge,  though  miscellaneous,  is  super- 
ficial— that  he  sifls  no  subject  thoroughly — and  never  gets  to  the 
bottom  of  any  thing. 

Shepherd,  No  even  o*  his  ain  pit  But  it  wadna  be  fair  to  blame 
him  for  that,  for  it  has  nane. 

North,  Then  he  is  such  a  poltroon,  that  a  child  can  frighten  him 
into  hysterics. 

Shepherd.  True — true.  It  can  do  that,  just  by  kneelin'  down  at 
the  bedside,  fauldin*  its  hauns  together,  wee  bit  pawm  to  wee  bit 
pawm,  turnin'  up  its  blue  een  to  heaven,  and  whusperin'  the  Lord's 
rrayer.     That  sets  Satan  into  a  fit — like  a  great  big  he-goat  in  tho 


Digitized  by 


Google 


390  KOOTBB  AXBBOeiANJC. 

Staggers — aff  he  sets  owre  the  bogs — axkd  wee  Jamie,  never  siis- 
peckin'  that  it's  the  smell  o'  sulphur,  blaws  out  the  lang-wick'd 
caunle  that  has  been  dreepin'  its  creesh  on  the  table,  aud  creeps  into 
a  warm  sleep  within  his  father's  bosom. 

North,  I  have  sometimes  amused  myself  with  conjecturing, 
James,  what  may  be  his  opinion  of  the  Magazine. 

Shepherd,  Him  read  the  Magazine !  It  would  be  wormwood  to 
him,  sir.  Waur  than  thae  bonny  red-cheeked  aipples  that  turned 
within  his  mouth  into  sand  and  ashes.  Yet  I  wuss  he  would  become 
a  regular  subscriber — and  tak  it  in.  Wha  kens  that  it  mightna 
reclaim  him — and 

**  Fm  wae  to  think  upon  yoo  den, 
Even  for  hit  sake  r 

North,  Having  given  the  devil  his  due — what  think  ye,  James, 
of  these  proposed  prosecutions  of  the  Press ! 

Shepherd.  Wha  s  gaun  to  tak  the  law  o'  Blackwood  noo  ? 

North,  Not  Blackwood,  but  the  newspaper-press,  with  the  Stand- 
ard— so  'tis  said — and  the  Morning  Journal,  at  the  head. 

Shepherd,  I  never  heard  tell  o't  afore.  Wha's  the  public  perse- 
cutor? 

North.  The  Duke  of  Wellington. 

Shepherd.  That's  a  confounded  lee,  if  ever  there  was  ane  tauld  in 
this  warld. 

North,  James,  look  at  me,  I  am  serious.  The  crime  laid  to  their 
charge  is  that  of  having  endeavored  to  bring  the  government  into 
contempt.* 

Shepherd.  If  a  crime  be  great  in  proportion  as  it's  diffeecult,  I  am 
free  tae  confess,  as  they  say  in  Parliament,  that  the  bringin'  o'  the 
government  o'  this  kintra  into  contempt,  maun  be  a  misdemeanor  o' 
nae  muckle  magnitude. 

North,  Perhaps  it  is  wrong  to  despise  any  thing ;  and  certainly, 
in  the  highest  Christian  light,  it  is  so.  Wordsworth  finely  says, 
**  He  who  feels  contempt  for  any  living  thing,  has  faculties  which  he 
has  never  used." 

Shepherd.  Then  Wudsworth  has  faculties  in  abundance  that  he  has 
never  used  ;  for  he  feels  contempt  for  every  leevin'  thing,  in  the 
shape  either  o'  man  or  woman,  that  can  write  as  gude  or  better 
poetry  than  himsel — which  I  alloo  is  no  easy ;  but  still  it's  possible, 
and  has  been  dune,  and  will  be  dune  again  by  me  and  ithers.     But 

*  Th«  okoif  •  iraa  mtde,  and  at  tbe  intt&no*  of  Wellington  and  Pool,  (who  wore  anerf  ^^ 
him  for  donouncinff  what  he  called  their  abandonment  of  principle  in  mntinf  Catholie 
Emancipation,)  Mr.  Robert  Alexander,  editor  and  proprietor  of  the  Morning  Jonmal.  a  London 
morning  paper,  which  had  taken  the  place  of  Tke  J^ew  TYmm,  waa  proceeded  against,  on  th« 
part  of  the  Crown,  by  Sir  James  Scarlett,  the  AttomeT-General.  Alexander  waa  conTicted 
and  impriioned  in  Newgate,  where  he  vainly  attemptca  to  condnot  his  newspaper.  In  a  short 
time  the  Journal  died,  and  he  was  liberated—the  real  objeet  baring  been  to  silence  him— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


PRB88  PBBSECUnOKS.  891 

that^s  rinnin'  awa  frae  the  subject.  Sae  it's  actionable  to  despise  the 
government !  In  that  case,  no  a  word  o*  polilics  this  night.  Do 
je  admire  the  government? 

North,  Sweet  are  the  uses  of  adversity,  "That,  like  the  toad, 
ugly  and  venomous,  wears  yet  a  precious  jewel  in  its  head." 

Shepherd.  But  admittin'  the  aptitude  o'  the  first  pairt  o'  the  simi- 
litude, has  the  present  government  a  precious  jewel  in  its  head  ?  I 
doot  it — although  the  Duke  o'  Wellington  may,  for  ony  thing  I  keu 
to  the  contrar,  hae  like  Hazlitt — and  like  him  deny  it  too— a  car- 
bunkle  on  his  nose. 

North,  If  the  government  bring  actions  against  the  Standard  and 
the  Morning  Journal,  it  must,  then,  to  be  consistent,  instantly  after- 
wards institute  an  action  of  a  very  singular  and  peculiar  kind — an 
action  against  itself. 

Shepherd,  Eh! 

North,  For  having  not  only  endeavored,  but  beyond  all  expecta- 
tion of  the  most  sanguine,  succeeded  in  overwhelming  itself  beneath 
a  load  of  contempt,  from  which  all  the  spades  and  shovels  of  all  the 
ministerial  hirelings,  whether  Englishmen  feeding  on  roast  beef  and 
plum-puddings,  or  Irishmen  on  "  wetuns'*  and  praes,  or  Scotchmen 
on  brose,  butter,  and  brimstone,  will  never,  between  this  date  and 
the  Millennium,  supposing  some  thousands  of  the  most  slavish  of 
the  three  nations  working  extra  hours,  succeed  in  disinterring  it, 
nor,  dig  till  they  die,  ever  come  within  a  myriad  cubic  feet  of  its 
putrefying  skeleton. 

Shepherd.  But  surely  the  Duke  wull  baud  the  hauns  o'  the  Whig 
attorney  ? 

North,  The  Duke,  who  has  stood  in  a  hundred  battles,  calm  as  a 
tree,  in  the  fire  of  a  park  of  French  artillery,  cannot  surely,  James,  I 
agree  with  you,  turn  pale  at  a  shower  of  paper  pellets. 

Shepherd.  No  pale  wi'  fear,  but  aiblins  wi'  anger.  Ira  furor 
brevis. 

North,  Better  Latin  than  any  of  Hazlitt's  quotations. 

Shepherd.  It  is  Latin.     But  do  you  really  think  that  he's  mad  f 

North,  I  admire  the  apophthegm,  James. 

Shepherd.  Til  lay  a  hoggit  o'  whusky  to  a  saucer  o'  salloop,  that 
the  government  never  brings  its  actions  against  the  Stannard  and 
Jumal. 

North.  But  there's  no  salloop  in  Scotland,  James; — and  were  I  to 
lose  my  wager,  I  must  import  a  saucer-full  from  Cockaigne — which 
would  be  attended  with  considerable  expense — as  neither  smack  nor 
wagon  would  take  it  on  board,  and  I  should  have  to  send  a  special 
messenger,  perhaps  an  express,  to  Mr.  Leigh  Hunt. 

Shepherd,  What  are  the  ither  papers  say  in'  till't  ? 

North,  All  on  fire,  and  blazing  away  with  a  proper  British  spirit 


Digitized  by 


Google 


392  KOCTES  AHBBOBIANiB. 

— Globe,  Examiner,  and  all^-except  "  yon  trembling  coward  who 
forsook  his  master,'*  the  shanieful  yet  shameless  slave,  the  aposta- 
tizing Courier,  whose  unnatural  love  of  tergiversation  is  so  deep. 
and  black-grained,  and  intense,  that  once  a  quarter  he  is  seen  turn- 
ing his  back  upon  himself,  in  a  stylo  justifying  a  much-ridiculed  but 
most  felicitous  phrase  of  the  late  Lord  Castlereagh  ;  so  that  the  few 
coffee-house  readers,  who  occasionally  witness  his  transformations, 
have  long  given  up  in  despair  the  hopeless  task  of  trying  to  discover 
his  brazen  face  from  his  wooden  posteriors,  and  let  the  lusus  natures, 
with  all  its  monstrosities,  lie  below  the  table  bespitten  and  be- 
spumed,  in  seculd  seculorum. 

Shepherd,  That's  a  maist  sweepin'  and  sonorous  specimen  o'  oral 
vituperation. 

North,  The  Liberty  of  the  Press  can  never  be  perfectly  pure  frona 
licentiousness.  If  it  were,  1  should  propose  calling  it  the  Slavery  of 
the  Press.  What  sense  is  there  in  telling  any  set  of  men  by  all 
manner  of  means  to  speak  out  boldly  about  their  governors  and 
their  grievances,  for  that  such  is  the  birthright  of  Britons — to  open 
their  mouths  barn-door  wide,  and  roar  aloud  to  the  heavens  with  the 
lungs  of  which  the  machinery  is  worked  by  steam,  a  high-pressure 
engine — and  yet  the  moment  they  begin  to  bawl  beyond  the  birth- 
right of  Britons,  what  justice  is  there  in  not  only  commanding  the 
afiDiesaid  barn-door-wide  mouths  to  be  shut,  bolted,  locked,  and  the 
ke)  hole  hermetically  sealed,  but  in  punishing  the  bawling  Britons 
for  having,  in  the  enthusiasm  of  vociferation,  abused  their  birthright 
of  crying  aloud  to  the  winds  of  heaven  against  their  real  or  imagi- 
nary tyrants  and  oppressors,  by  fine,  imprisonment,  expatriation,  or 
not  impossibly — death  ? 

Shepherd,  Sic  conduct  can  proceed  only  frae  a  maist  consummate 
ignorance  o'  the  nature  o'  the  human  mind,  and  a  wilfu'  and  wicked 
non- understanding  o'  that  auncient  apophthegm,  *'  Give  an  inch  and 
you'll  tak  an  ell  ?"  Noo,  I  say,  debar  them  the  inch  by  an  ack  o' 
the  legislature,  if  you  wull ;  but  if  you  allow  them  the  inch,  wuU 
you  flee  in  the  face  o'  a'  experience,  fine  them  for  a  foot,  and  hang 
them  for  an  elH     That's  sumphish, 

North.  James,  I  shall  certainly  put  you  into  Parliament  next  dis- 
solution. 

Slupherd,  But  I'll  no  gang.  For  although  I'm  complete  maister 
o'  the  English  language  and  idiom,  I've  gotten  a  slicht  Scottish 
accent  that  micht  seem  singular  to  the  Southrons :  and  confoun*  me 
gin  I  could  bear  to  be  lauchen  at  by  the  stammerin'  coofs  that  hum 
and  ha  yonner  like  sae  mony  boobies  tryin'  to  repeat  by  heart  their 
lessons  frae  the  horn- book.  My  pride  couldna  submit  to  their 
"  Hear — hear — bears !"  by  way   o'  derision,  and  I  wud  be  apt  to 


Digitized  by 


Google 


WHJJAM  BUBKI880N.  398 

shut  my  nieve,  and  gie  some  o'  them  a  douss  on  the  ohafls,  or  a 
clink  on  the  side  o'  the  head,  contrar  to  the  rules  o'  Parliament. 

North,  With  scaroely  an  exception — now  that  Brougham  is  mute 
— save  Sadler  and  Huskisson,  who  in  very  difTerent  styles  speak 
admirably,*  the  Lower  House  are  a  pack  partly  of  pert  praters,  shaU 
low,  superficial,  coxcombical,  and  pedantic, — yes,  /ames,  absolutely 
pedantic — and  partly  of  drawling  dunces,  who  dole  out  a  vast  fund 
of  facts,  one  and  all  of  which  have  figured  for  weeks,  months,  years, 
In  all  the  newspapers,  metropolitan  and  provincial,  and  have  ceased 
to  be  familiar  to  Wilkie's  Village  Politicians. 

Shepherd.  I  ax  pardon,  sir,  for  interruptin'  you ;  but  did  you  see 
Mr.  Wulkie  when  he  was  in  Scotland  this  time — ^and  if  you  did,  hoo 
is  he — and  what  for  did  he  no  come  out  by  to  Mount  Benger  ? 

North,  The  Prince  of  Painters  is  as  the  whole  world  would  wish, 
well  and  happy,  and  in  social  converse  delightful  as  ever — simple 
yet  original — plain  yet  profounds-calm  yet  enthusiastic — and  his 
whole  character  composed  by  the  thoughtfulness  of  a  genius,  that  in 
his  art  works  his  way  slowly  and  surely  through  many  a  multitude 
of  conceptions  to  the  final  idea  which  with  consummate  skill  he  em- 
bodies in  immortal  forms.  And  may  the  colors  be  immortal  too— 
works  one  and  all,  laborious  though  they  be,  of  inspiration ! 

Shepherd.  But  what  for  didna  he  come  out  by  this  time  to  Mount 
Benger?  I  weel  remember  George  Tamson  bringin'  him  out  in  the 
hairst  o'  1817,  and  me  readin'  till  them  pairt  o'  The  Manuscripp. 

North,  What!  theChaldeel 

*  Miohul  Tboma*  Sadler  vu  a  rood  speakor— too  fond,  aometiinM,  of  Uia  abominatioB  of  da- 
Urering  cut-and-dry  orationa  which  he  bad  carefallj  elaborated  beforehand.  Hia  delirery  waa 
good,  and  hia  lanfaage  not  onlj  clear,  bat  elegant.  On  the  contrary,  William  Unakiaaon  waa 
a  heary  ipeakcr.  He  had  ideaa  and  a  large  amount  of  commercial  inforroaiion,  but  hi*  sen- 
iencea  -were  awkwardly  oonatmcted,  he  waa  addicted  to  "  Tillainona  iteration,'*  and  could  not 
make  the  aimpleat  atatement  under  leaa  than  from  40  minutea  io  an  hour.  He  haa  been  tri- 
umphantly boaated  of  by  the  highest  Free  Trade  party,  aa  a  patriot  of  the  firat  water.  I 
ahall  atate  lome  of  hia  olalma  to  Uiat  high  title.  The  Ute  Duke  of  Sutherland,  when  Lord 
6ower«  waa  Engiiah  Ambaasador  to  Paria,  in  1793.  picked  up  with  Huskinon,  who  waa  not  only 
a  member  of  the  Jacobin  Club,  but  aprominent  speaker  there.  Hia  familiarity  with  the  Frenoa 
language  made  him  uaeful  to  Lord  uower,  with  whom  be  went  back  to  England.  Lord  Gower 
introduced  him  to  Pitt  and  Dundaa,  and,  thus  patronized,  Air.  Huakiason  Moame  a  Member  of 
Parliament,  and  Under  Seeretary  of  Bute  for  the  Colonial  Department.  In  1801,  Pitt  and 
Dundaa  went  out  of  office :  ao  did  Huakiason,  who,  however  bargained  with  Addington,  (the 
late  Lord  Sedmouth,)  the  new  Premier,  for  a  pension  of  £1200.  As  he  waa  only  thirty  yean 
old,  when  thia  job  waa  perpetrated,  and  had  aome  40  yeara  expectancy  of  life,  there  was  an 
amount  of  nearfr  £60.000  (to  aay  nothinc  of  the  intereat)  literally  giren  to  thia  roan.  And  for 
whatT— aimply  for  haring  been  in  a  well-paid  office  !  Nor  waa  thia  all :  it  waa  atated  by  Mr. 
Caloraft  in  Parliament,  in  Huakiaaon'a  presence,  and  by  him  not  denied,  that  he  (Huakiason,) 
could  not  obtain  hia  marriage  aettlement  until  he  had  aecured,  not  hia  £1200  a  year  for  hi«  own 
life,  bnt  also  a  penaion  of  x615  for  hia  wife,  to  commence  on  his  death.  There  was  a  further 
bargain  that  whenerer  he  ahould  enjoy  an  office  of  the  annual  ralue  of  £2.000,  the  pension 
waa  to  be  suspended,— to  be  resumed  ou  quitting  office.  He  also  obtained  the  agontship  of  the 
laland  of  Ceylon,  worth  £700  a  year,  and  neld  thia  with  the  office  of  Secretary  of  the  Treasury, 
(then  worth  £4,000  a  Tear)  which  he  held  for  years.  He  subeequently  waa  a  Cabinet  minia- 
ter,  at  £5,000  a  year.  He  waa  killed  at  the  opening  of  the  LiTerpnol  and  Manchester  Railway, 
and,  on  hia  death,  his  wife  came  in  for  htr  pension  of  £015, — already  she  has  receiTed  £15,000 
from  this  source.  Not  that  she  wanu  it,  for  she  waa  wealthy  on  her  marriace,  has  a  palatial 
raaldenoe  in  Cariton  Gardena,  London,  and  a  countrr  aeat  in  Sussex  (Eartham  House,  Pet- 
worth,)  the  centre  of  her  extensive  landed  eatates.  la  Kfr.  IlQ«kissonf  thus  pensioned,  with  re> 
▼traioB  to  hia  wife,  really  entitled  to  the  name  of  Patriot  ?— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


894  HOOIBB  AMBEOGUJSM. 

Shepherd.  What  else  1    Hoo  they  lyeuoh ! 

North,  Bad  as  was  the  haranguing,  and  good  the  humming  and 
ha'in'  at  the  Edinburgh  Forum  of  old,  James,  where  first  you  '*  ful- 
mined  over  Greece,"  yet  for  evendown  right  hammering  stupidity, 
St  Stephens  exceeds  the  Forum  £ar.  Nor  was  yon  queer  comi- 
cal body,  James,  the  wee  bit  6mug-&ced,  smooth-haired,  low-browed, 
pug-nosed,  oock-chin'd,  bandy-legged,  hump-backed  Precentor  to  the 
Chapel  rejoicing  in  the  Auld  Light,  in  Libberton's  Wynd,  who  used 
occasionally  to  open  the  question,  the  tenth-part  so  tiresome,  after 
the  ludicrousness  of  the  exhibition  had  got  stale,  as  Sir  Thomas 
Leatherbreeches,  stinking  of  Zummerset,  looking  from  him  with  a 
face  as  free  from  one  single  grain  of  meaning  as  a  dean-swept  barn- 
floor,  laboring  to  apply  to  speech  a  mouth  manifestly  made  by  gra- 
cious nature  for  the  exclusive  purpose  of  bolting  bacon,  vainly  wag- 
ging in  a  frothy  syllabub  of  words  a  tongue  in  its  thickness  admir- 
ably adapted,  and  then  only  felicitoucily  employed,  for  lapping  up 
lollipops,  ever  and  anon  with  a  pair  of  awful  paws  raking  up  the 
coarse  bristle  of  his  poll,  so  that,  along  with  the  grunt  of  the  greedy 
pig,  you  are  presented  with  the  quills  of  the  fretful  porcupine ;  and 
since  the  then  and  the  there  alluded  to,  gobbling  up  his  own  words 
— for  meanings  had  he  never  none — ^like  a  turkey-cock  his  own  void- 
ings;  and  giving  the  lie  direct  to  the  whole  of  his  past  political  life, 
public  and  private,  if  indeed  political  life  it  may  be  called,  which 
was  but  like  the  diseased  doze  of  a  drunkard  dreaming  through  a 
stomach  dark  and  deep  as  the  cider-cellar. 

Shepherd,  To  my  lugs,  sir,  the  maist  shocking  epithet  in  our  lan- 
guage is — Apostate.  Soon  as  you  hear  it,  you  see  a  man  sellin'  his 
sowle  to  the  deevil. 

North.  To  Mammon. 

Shepherd,  Belial  or  Beelzebub.  I  look  to  the  mountains,  Mr. 
North,  and  stem  they  staun'  in  a  glorious  gloom,  for  the  sun  is 
struffglin'  wi'  a  thunder-cloud,  and  facing  him  a  &int  but  fast-bright- 
enin  rainbow.  The  ancient  spirit  o'  S<x>tland  comes  on  me  frae  the 
sky ;  and  the  sowle  within  me  reswears  in  silence  the  oath  o'  the 
Covenant.  There  they  are — the  Covenanters — a'  gathered  thegither, 
no  in  fear  and  tremblin,  but  wi'  Bibles  in  their  bosoms,  and  swords 
by  their  sides,  in  a  glen  deep  as  the  sea,  and  still  as  death,  but  for 
the  soun'  o'  a  stream  and  the  cry  o'  an  eagle.  *'  Let  us  sing,  to  the 
praise  and  glory  o'  God,  the  hundred  psalm,"  quoth  a  loud  clear 
voice,  though  it  be  the  voice  o'  an  auld  man ;  and  up  to  Heaven 
bauds  he  his  strans  witherM  hauns,  and  in  the  gracious  wunds  o' 
heaven  are  flying  abroad  his  gray  hairs,  or  say  rather,  white  as  the 
silver  or  the  snaw. 

North.  O,  for  Wilkie  ! 

Shepherd.  The  eagle  and  the  stream  are  silent,  and  the  heavens 


Digitized  by 


Google 


8»5 

and  the  earth  are  brocht  olos^  thegither  by  that  triumphin'  psalm. 
Aye,  the  clouds  oease  their  sailing  and  lie  still ;  the  mountains  bow 
their  heads ;  and  the  crags,  do  they  not  seem  to  listen,  as  in  that  re- 
mote place  the  hour  o'  the  delighted  day  is  filled  with  a  holy  hymn, 
to  the  Lord  God  o'  Israel ! 

North,  My  dear  Shepherd ! 

Shepherd,  Oh !  if  there  should  be  sittin'  there — even  in  that  oon* 
gregation  on  which,  like  God's  own  eye,  looketh  down  the  meridian 
sun,  now  shinin'  in  the  blue  region — an  Apostate ! 

North,  The  thought  is  terrible. 

Shepherd,  But  na,  na,  na!  See  that  bonny  blue-ee'd,  rosy 
cheeked,  gowden-haired  lassie, — only  a  thought  paler  than  usual, 
sweet  lily  that  she  is, — half  sittin'  half  lyin'  on  the  greensward,  as 
she  leans  on  the  knees  o'  her  stalwart  grandfather — for  the  sermon's 
begun,  and  all  eyes  are  &stened  on  the  preacher — look  at  her  till 
your  heart  melts  as  if  she  were  your  ain,  and  God  had  given  you 
that  beautifu'  wee  image  o'  her  sainted  mother,  and  tell  me  if  you 
think  that  a'  the  tortures  that  cruelty  could  devise  to  inflict,  would 
ever  ring  frae  thae  sweet  innocent  lips  ae  word  o'  abjuration  o'  the 
faith  in  which  the  flower  is  growing  up  amang  the  dew-draps  o'  her 
native  hills  ? 

North,  Never — ^never — ^never ! 

Shepherd  She  proved  it,  sir,  in  death.  Tied  to  a  stake  on  the 
8ea*sands  she  stood ;  and  first  she  heard,  and  then  she  saw,  the  white 
roarin'  o'  the  tide.  But  the  smile  forsook  not  her  face ;  it  brichten'd 
in  her  een  when  the  water  reach*d  her  knee;  calmer  and  calmer 
was  her  voice  of  prayer,  as  it  beat  against  her  bonny  breast ;  nae 
shriek  when  a  wave  closed  her  lips  forever ;  and  methinks,  sir, — for 
ages  on  ages  hae  lapsed  awa'  sin'  that  martyrdom,  and  therefore 
Imagination  may  without  blame  dally  wi'  grief— methinks,  sir,  that 
as  her  golden  head  disappeared,  'twas  like  a  star  sinkin'  in  the  sea ! 

North.  God  bless  you,  my  dearest  James  !  shake  hands. 

Sliepherd,  When  I  think  on  these  things — ^in  olden  times  the  pro- 
duce o'  the  common  day — and  look  aroun'  me  noo,  I  could  wush  to 
steek  my  een  in  the  darkness  o'  death  ;  for  dearly  as  I  love  it  still, 
alas !  alas  !  I  am  ashamed  o'  my  country. 

North,  What  an  outcry,  in  such  a  predicament,  would  have  been 
made  by  Leatherbreeches! 

Shepherd,  Bubble  and  squeak  like  a  pig  plotted.  But  what  waur 
is  he  than  our  ain  Forty-Five  ?*    O,  they  mak  me  scunner ! 

North,  Does  not  the  Duke  of  Wellington  know  that  mortal  hatred 
of  the  ^*  Great  Measure"  is  in  the  hearts  of  millions  of  his  subjects? 

Shepherd,  His  subjects  ? 

North,  Yes,  James,  his  subjects ;  for  I  am  not  now  speaking  of 

*  Th«  Bamber  of  Mvmben  from  Sootlftad,  in  tho  House  <^  Commoiw,  btfora  tho  Rtfimi  BUI 
fff  ISM.  by  whiok  tho  number  waa  inoreaeed  to  fiS  — M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


896  Nooncs  ambbosianjB. 

his  slaves.  His  subjects ;  and  if  be  has  that  horror  at  the  idea  of 
being  thought  ambitious  of  being  Kino,  which  he  chooses  to  evince 
by  the  prosecution  of  the  Press,  and  an  attack  on  its  long-establish- 
ed liberties,  then  must  he  be  at  this  hour  the  most  miserable  of  men. 
For  at  this  hour,  he  is  the  King.  No  King  of  England,  but  himself, 
could  I  verily  believe,  even  if  they  would,  have  carried  the  Catholic 
Question.* 

Shepherd,  We  had  better  cry  on  Gumey  no  to  tak  doon  this,  for 
I  jalouse  it's  actionable,  na,  for  ony  thing  I  ken,  treasonable ;  and  we 
may  be  baith  hanged. 

North,  No,  James,  we  are  loyal  to  the  backbone.  Till  the  day 
of  my  death  will  I  raise  up  my  feeble  voice  in  honor  of  the  hero  of 
Waterloo.  He  saved  Europe — the  world.  Twin-stars  in  England's 
sky,  immortally  shall  burn  the  deified  spirits  of  Nelson  and  Wel- 
lington. 

Shepherd,  Your  wards  gar  me  a'  grue. 

North,  But  of  noble  minds  ambition  is  both  the  first  and  the  last 
infirmity ;  an  infirmity  it  must,  even  in  its  most  glorious  mood,  be 
called  in  all  noble  minds,  except  that  of  Alfred.  In  war,  Welling- 
ton, the  Gaul-humbler,  is  a  greater  name,  immeasurably  greater  thui 
Alfred,  the  Dane-destroyer.  But  in  peace — too,  too  painful  would 
it  be  to  pursue  the  parallel 

Shepherd,  And  therefore  shove  across  the  jug ;  dicht  your  broo, 
for  y ouVe  sweatin' ;  look  less  fierce  and  gloomy ;  and,  wi  your  per- 
mission, here's  *'  The  Kirk  o'  Scotland ! " 

North,  Aye,  let  the  Church  of  England  prepare  her  pillars  for  an 
earthquake,  for  I  hear  a  sound  louder  than  all  her  organs;  but  our 
Kirk,  small  and  simple  though  it  be,  is  built  upon  a  rock  that  Vulcan 
himself  may  not  undermine  ;  let  the  storm  rage  as  loud  as  may,  her 
little. bells  will  cheerfully  tinkle  in  the  hurly-burly  ;  no  sacrilegious 
hands  shall  ever  fiing  her  pews  and  pulpits  into  a  bonfire  ;  on  her 
roofs  shall  ever  fall  the  dews  and  the  sunshine  of  Peace ;  Time  may 
dilapidate,  but  Piety  will  rebuild  her  holy  altars ;  and  her  comer- 
stone  shall  endure  till  Christianity  has  prepared  Earth  for  melting 
away  into  Heaven. 

Shepherd,  A  kin  o'  cauldness,  and  then  a  fit  o'  heat's  chasin'  ane 
anither  through  my  body  ;  is  the  jug  wi'  me !     I  ax  your  pardon. 

North,  Well,  then,  James,  millions  abhor  the  Great  Measure. 
And  in  their  abhorrence,  must  they  be  dumb?  No,  They  will 
speak ;  and  it  may  be,  louder  and  longer  too  than  Napoleon's  bat- 
teries. Wellington  hiiiiself  cannot  silence  their  fire.  And  if  their 
engine — their  organ — the  Press,  speak  trumpet-tongued  against  the 
Great  Measure,  and  the  Great  Man  who  carried  it  by  stealing  a 

*  Ooorf e  IV.  was  hottiU  to  it,  and  Mtnally  wept  irbcn  awivd  that  If  »ot  graated.  ilicfe 
mnirt  b«  ciTil  wtx  — M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


THE   PBRIODIOALS.  897 

march  od  the  Friends  of  the  Constitution,  so  as  to  take  them  fatal]  v 
on  flank,  and  by  bribing  its  enemies,  so  as  to  bring  them  down  in 
formidable  array  in  front  of  the  army  of  the  Faithfu]  surprised  in 
their  position — does  he  hope,  powerful  as  he  is  in  Place,  in  Genius, 
and  in  Fame,  to  carry  by  siege,  by  sap,  or  by  storm,  that  Battery 
which  ere  now  has  played  upon  Thrones  till  they  sunk  in  ruins,  and 
their  crowned  Kings  ded  eleemosynary  pensioners  into  foreign 
lands ! 

Shepherd,  I  didna  ken,  sir,  you  had  thocht  sae  highly  o'  the  Gen- 
tlemen o'  the  Periodical  Press. 

North,  Periodical !  Time  is  not  an  element,  James,  that  can 
enter  into  any  just  judgment  on  the  merits  of  such  a  question.  The 
same  minds  are  at  work  for  the  Press  all  over  Britain,  whatever  may 
be  the  seasons  of  their  appearance  in  print.  I  do  think  very  highly 
of  many  of  the  Gentlemen  of  the  Press.  Nor  does  it  matter  one 
iota  with  me,  whether  they  set  the  Press  agoing  once  a  year  or  once 
a-day. 

Shepherd.  I  see  there's  nae  essential  distinction. 

North,  With  all  my  reverence  for  Mr.  Southey,  I  cannot  help 
thinking,  that  by  speaking  so  bitterly  and  contemptuously  in  some 
passages  of  his  admirable  **  Progress  and  Prospects  of  Society,"  of 
magazines  and  newspapers,  he  has  glanced  aside  from  the  truth,  and 
been  guilty  of  not  a  little  discourtesy  to  his  literary  brethren. 

Shepherd.  He  shou'dna  hae  done  that—  but  ye  maunna  be  angry 
at  Mr.  Soothey. 

North,  Nor  am  I.  Why,  James,  the  self-same  men  who  write 
in  the  Quarterly  Review,  of  which,  next  and  equal  to  the  accom 
plished  and  powerful  editor,  Mr.  Southey  is  the  ornament  and  sup. 
port,  write,  and  that  too  not  by  fits  and  starts,  but  regularly,  and  for 
both  fame  and  bread,  in  magazines  and  newspapers.  For  many 
years,  the  editor  of  the  Quarterly  Review,  along  with  our  friend  the 
Professor,*  who  still  lends  me  his  aid — contributed,  as  Mr.  Southey 
and  all  the  world  know,  largely  to  the  Magazine  which  I  have  the 
honor  of  feebly  editing  ;  and  so  did  and  do  some  of  Mr.  Southey's 
most  esteemed  personal  friends,  such  as  Mr.  Lamb  and  Mr.  Cole- 
ridge. Indeed  I  could  show  Mr.  Southey  a  contribution  list  of 
names  that  would  make  him  stare-^from  Sir  Walter  Scott  to  Sir 
Peter  Nimmo. 

Shepherd,  Mr.  Southey  maun  hae  meant  to  accepp  Blackwood* 

North,  I  fear  not,  James* 

Shepherd,  That*s  stoopit. 

North,  The  editor  of  Colbum's  Magazine  is  illustrious  over 
Europe — the  best  critic,  and  one  of  the  best  poets  of  his  age,f  and 
many  of  his  contributors  are,  elsewhere,  successful  and  influential 

•  WilMB  -  M.  t  Tbomaa  CampbelL— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


898  HOCTBB  AHBROBIAHiB. 

authors.  In  brief,  I  would  beg  leave  to  say  most  kindlj  to  the 
Laureate,  that  as  much,  and  perhaps  more,  varied  talent  is  shown  in 
those  two  magazines  every  month,  than  in  that  Review  every  quar- 
ter ;  and  that,  without  any  disparagement  to  the  best  of  all  Quar 
terly  Reviews. 

Shepherd.  I  confess  I  canna  help  agreein'  wi'  you,  sir,  though,  at 
the  same  time,  it's  kittlier  to  write  in  the  Quarterly  than  in  Maga. 
At  ony  rate,  Lockhart  ay  sends  me  back  my  articles 

North.  Which  I  never  do. 

Shepherd.  Ditma  ye  ?  um. 

North.  True,  we  of  Maga  are  not  so  pompous,  authoritative,  dog- 
matical, doctorial,  (perhaps,  however,  fully  more  professorial,)  as  ye 
of  the  Quarterly ;  we  have  not  the  same  satis&etion  in  constantly 
wearing  wigs,  and  occasionally  shovel-hats ;  nor  do  we,  like  ye,  at 
all  times,  every  man's  son  of  you,  indite  our  articles  with  a  huge 
pile  of  books  encumbering  our  table,  in  a  room  surrounded  by  maps, 
and  empty  of  all  bottles  save  one  of  eye-water.  Our  mice  do  not 
come  from  mountains  in  labor,  but  out  of  small  chinks  and  crannies 
behind  the  chimney-cheeks  of  our  parturient  fancies.  When  our 
mountains  are  in  travail  they  produce  mammoths.  Absurd,  trifling, 
and  ridiculous,  we  often — too  often  are^ye  never;  but  dull,  heavy, 
nay,  stupid  ye  sometimes  are,  while  with  us  these  are  universally 
admitted  to  be  the  most  impossible  of  all  impossible  events  in 
nature.  In  mere  information— or  what  is  called  knowledge — Gleam- 
ing, and  all  that — facts,  and  so  forth — we  willingly  give  ye  the  ptu : 
but  neither  are  we  ignorant ;  on  the  contrary,  we  are  well  acquainted 
with  arts  and  literature,  and  in  the  ways  of  the  world,  up  both  to 
trap  and  to  snuff,  which,  save  your  reverences,  you  are  not  always 
to  the  degree  your  best  friends  could  wish,  i  ou  have  a  notion  in 
your  wise  heads,  that  you  are  always  walking  in  advance  of  the 
public ;  we  have  a  notion  in  our  foolish  ones,  that  we  are  often  run- 
ning in  the  rear.  Ye  would  fain  lead ;  we  are  contented  to  drive. 
As  to  divinity,  ye  are  all  doctors,  some  of  you  perhaps  bishops; 
we,  at  the  best,  but  licensed  preachers.  Ye  are  ail  Episcopalians, 
and  proud  ye  are  of  showing  it ;  we  are  all,  or  nearly  all,  Presby- 
terians, and  think  no  shame  to  own  it  Whether  ye  or  we  are  the 
more  or  the  less  bigoted  to  our  respective  creeds,  it  is  not  for  us  to 
say ;  but  we  do  not  scruple  to  think,  that  on  this  point  we  have 
ffreatly  the  advantage  over  our  brethren  of  the  south.  Anti-Catho- 
ucs  we  both  are — and  at  the  risk,  perhaps,  of  some  little  tautology, 
we  add — Christians.  In  politics  we  are  steady  as  the  pole-star ;  so 
perhaps  are  ye ;  but  clouds  never  obscure  our  brightness ;  whereas, 
for  some  few  years  past,  such  is  the  dense  gloom  in  which  it  has 
been  hidden,  your  pole-star  has,  to  the  eyes  of  midnight  mariners, 
been  invisible  in  the  sky.     To  sum  up  all  in  one  short  and  pithy 


Digitized  by 


Google 


NEWSPAPER  WBITBBB.  899 

sentence,  the  Quarterly  Review  is  the  best  periodical  in  the  world 
except  Blackwood's  Magazine,  and  Blackwood's  Magazine  is  the  best 
periodical  in  the  world  except  the  Quarterly  Review. 

Shepherd.  Haw — haw— haw ! — maist  capital !  O,  sir,  but  you're 
beginnin'  to  wax  wutty.  You  were  rather  a  wee  prosy  about  an 
hour  sin'  syne,  but  the  toddy,  Tm  thinkin',  's  beginnin'  to  worl^  and 
after  a  few  jugs  you  tauk  like  an  Opium-eater. 

North,  Opium-eater!  **  Where  has  he  hid  his  many-color'd 
head?" 

Shepherd.  I  kenna.  But  he's  like  the  lave  o'  the  Lakers — when 
he  wons  in  Westmoreland,  he  forgets  Maga,  and  a'  the  rest  o'  the 
civil eezed  warld. 

North.  Now,  James,  all  this  being  the  case,  why  will  Mr.  Southey 
sneer,  or  worse  than  sneer,  at  Moon-Maga,  and  her  Star-satellites  ? 

Shepherd.  We  maun  alloo  a  great  man  his  crotchets.  There's 
nae  perfection  in  mortal  man ;  but  gin  I  were  to  look  for  it  ony 
where,  'twould  be  in  the  life,  character,  and  warks  o'  Robert 
Soothey. 

North.  With  respect,  again,  to  Newspapers — generally  speaking — 
they  are  conducted  with  extraordinary  talent,  rll  be  shot  if  Junius, 
were  he  alive  now,  would  set  the  world  on  the  rave,  as  he  did  some 
half  century  ago.  Many  of  the  London  daily  scribes  write  as  well 
as  ever  he  did,  and  some  better ;  witness  Dr.  Gifibrd  and  Dr.  Ma- 
cinn,  in  that  incomparable  paper  the  Standard^  or  Laabrum ;  and 
hundreds,  not  greatly  inferior  to  Junius,  write  in  the  same  sort 
of  cutting,  trenchant  style  of  that  celebrated  assassin.  Times,  Chro- 
nicle, Globe,  Examiner,  Herald,  Sun,  Atlas,  Spectator,  one  of  the 
most  able,  honest,  and  independent  of  all  the  weeklies,  are  frequently 
distinguished  by  most  admirable  writing ;  and  the  Morning  Jour- 
nal, though  oflen  rather  lengthy,  and  sometimes  unnecessarily  warm, 
constantly  exhibits  specimens  of  most  powerful  composition.  The 
Morning  Post,  too,  instead  of  being  what  it  once  was,  a  mere  record 
of  fashionable  movements,  is  a  political  paper  now,  full,  for  the  most 
part,  of  a  truly  British  spirit,  expressed  with  truly  British  talent.  If 
Zeta*  be  really  hanged,  the  editor  of  the  Morning  Journal  should 
let  him  alone  ;  if  he  be  really  unhanged,  he  ought  to  give  the  able 
editor  of  the  Morning  Journal  a  good  hiding. 

Shepherd.  He's  aiblins  no  fit     But  whats  the  meanin'  o'  that} 

North.  Confound  me,  James,  if  I  know. 

Shepherd.  Mr.  Southey,  though,  I'm  thinkin',  does  not  deny  taw- 
lent  to  the  daily  or  weekly  Press;  he  anathemateeses  their  perni- 
cious principles. 

North.  True.  But  does  he  not  greatly  exaggerate  the  evil  1  Most 

*  **Zeta  "  waa  aa  anonymous  latter- vritar  in  tha  M§rminft  PmI.  It  waa  avea  aaid  that  ImtH 
'BUanboroiiKh  waa  tha  aathor. — ^M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


iOO  V00TE8   AKBBOSIAKJB. 

pernicioQS  principles  some  of  them  do,  with  a  truly  wicked  pertina- 
city, disseminate ;  but  those  which  love  and  spread  truth,  though 
perhaps  fewer  in  number,  are  greater  in  power ;  and  even  were  it 
not  so,  truth  is  stronger  than  folsehood,  and  will  ultimately  prevail 
against  her,  and  that  too  at  no  remote  time.  Besides,  1  do  not  know 
of  any  newspaper  that  is  devoted  to  the  sole  worship  of  falsehood. 
We  must  allow  some,  nay,  even  great  differences  of  opinion  in  men's 
minds,  even  on  the  most  solemn  and  most  sacred  subjects ;  we  ought 
not  to  think  every  thing  wicked  which  our  understanding  or  con- 
science cannot  embrace ;  as  there  is  sometimes  found  by  ourselves, 
to  our  own  dismay,  much  bad  in  our  good,  so,  if  we  look  with  clear, 
bright,  unjaundiced  eyes,  we  may  often  see  much  good  in  their  bad ; 
nay,  not  unfrequently  we  shall  then  see,  that  what  we  were  too  wil- 
ling  to  think  utterly  bad,  because  it  was  in  the  broad  sheet  of  an 
enemy,  is  entirely  good,  and  feel,  not  without  compunction  and  sel^ 
reproach, 

"  Fas  est  et  ah  hoate  dooeri.* 

Shepherd,  Are  you  no  in  danger  o*  becomin*  ower  candid  the  noo, 
sir;  in  dancer  o'  rather  trimmin*t 

North.  No,  James ;  I  am  merely  trimming  the  vessel  of  my  own 
moral  reason — removing  to  the  centre  the  shifted  ballast,  that,  on 
my  voyage  to  the  distant  shores  of  truth,  she  may  not,  by  making 
lee-way,  drift  out  of  her  course,  and  fall  in  among  the  breakers;  and 
then,  after  putting  and  seeing  all  right,  I  return  like  a  good  pilot  to 
the  wheel,  and,  with  all  sail  set,  work  up,  with  my  merry  crew,  in 
the  wind's  eye,  to  the  safest  harbor  in  all  the  land  of  promise. 

Shepherd,  That's  a  weel-supported  simile.  You  aye  speak  wi* 
uncommon  smeddum  on  nowtical  affairs. 

North,  Question — Who  are  the  dangerous  writers  of  Uie  dayt 
Answer — Demagogues  and  infidels ;  there  being  included  in  the  lat- 
ter, and  indeed  also  in  the  former, — so,  in  truth,  there  is  no  such 
distinction — Deists  and  Atheists.  The  lowest  and  the  worst  dema- 
gogues are  mostly  all  dunces,  and  therefore,  I  must  opine,  not  alarm- 
ingly dangerous  to  the  stability  of  the  state,  or  the  well-being  of  the 
people.  Still  they  are  pests!  they  pollute  ale-houses,  and  make 
more  disgustful  gin-shops ;  the  conti^ion  of  their  bad  thoughts  some- 
times sickens  the  honest  poor  man  with  his  humble  ingle— irritates 
his  weary  heart,  confuses  his  aching  head,  and  makes  him  an  unhap- 
py subject,  fit,  and  ripe,  and  ready  for  sedition.  Luckily  the  mem- 
bers of  this  gang  occasionally  commit  overt  acts  of  which  the  law 
can  take  hold;  and,  instead  of  writing  them  down,  which,  from  the 
utter  debasement  of  their  understandings,  as  well  as  that  of  all  their 
unwashed  proselytes,  is  below  the  province  of  the  Press,  and  indeed 
impossible,  you  tie  them  down  in  a  cell,  and  order  them  to  be  well 


Digitized  by 


Google 


DElCAaoaUE  WBTTEBS.  401 

privately  whipt,  or  you  make  them  mount  the  treadmill,  and  insist 
on  their  continuing  to  reason,  step  by  step,  in  a  circle. 

Shepherd.  Besides,  many  o*  them,  sir,  get  hanged  for  crimes  not 
at  all  of  a  literary  character,  if  indeed  you  except  forgery — ^profligacy 
kills  many  more  by  horrid  diseases — and  multitudes  run  away  te 
America,  or  are  sent  to  Sydney -Cove,  or  the  "still  vexed  Bermoo- 
thes."  Sae  I  houp  the  breed's  on  the  decline  by  consumption,  and 
will  afore  long  rin  clean  out,  dregs  an*  a'. 

North,  I  agree  with  Mr.  Sou  they,  however,  in  believing  that  in 
London,  and  all  lai^  towns,  the  number  of  such  ruffians  is  very 
great.     Let  the  police  do  its  duty. 

Shepherd,  But,  sir,  ye  maun  ascend  a  few  grawds  up  the  scale  o- 
iniquity. 

North,  I  do-— and  find  some  men  of  good  education  and  small 
talent,  and  more  men  of  bad  or  no  education,  and  considerable  talent 
— demagogues — that  is  to  say,  wretches  who,  from  love  of  mischief 
would  instigate  the  ignorant  to  their  own  ruin,  in  the  ruin  of  the 
state.  They  write  and  they  speak  with  fluency  and  glibness,  and  the 
filthy  and  fetid  stream  flows  widely  over  poor  men's  dwellings, 
especially  those  who  are  given  to  reading,  and  deposits  in  work-shop, 
kitchen,  parlor,  and  bedroon),  a  slime  whose  exhalation  is  poison  and 
death.  They  have  publications  of  their  own,  and  they  gloat  over 
and  steal  and  spread  everything  that  is  bad  and  suited  to  their  ends 
in  the  publications  of  some  other  people,  who,  while  they  would 
80om  their  allianpe,  do  nevertheless  often  purposely  contribute  aid, 
to  their  evil  designs  and  machinations.  To  such  charge  too  large  a 
portion  of  what  is  called  the  Liberal  Press  must  plead  guilty,  or  per- 
haps they  would  glory  in  the  charge.  This  pollution  of  the  press 
can  only  be  cleansed  by  the  pure  waters  of  Truth  showered  over  it 
by  such  men  as  Mr.  Southey  himself;  or  swept  away,  if  you  prefer 
the  image,  by  besoms  in  the  hands  of  the  righteous,  who,  for  the  sake 
of  those  who  sufler,  shun  not  the  nauseous  office  even  of  fuilzie-mea 
to  keep  clean  and  sweet  the  high-ways  and  by-ways,  the  streets  and 
alleys  of  social  life. 

Shepherd.  Such  a  righteous  besom-brondisher  is  Christopher  North, 
the  terror  of  traitors  and  the — 

North,  And  thus,  James,  are  we  "  led  another  grawd  up  the  scale 
of  iniquity,"  and  reach  the  Liberal  Press.  It  works  much  evil,  and, 
I  fear  not  to  say,  much  good. 

Shepherd,  Say  rather  some  good,  sir.     Lay  the  emphasis  on  some. 

North,  Much  good.     For  it  is  not  to  be  denied  that  men  may  be 

bigotedly  and  blindly  attached  to  the  right  cause.     Old  institutions 

seem  sacred  to  their  imaginations,  beyond  the  sanctity  inherent  in 

their  frame.     Time-hallowed,  they  are  improvement-proof.     But  the 

Vol.  in.— 27 


Digitized  by 


Google 


403  KOCTBS  AMBBOBIAN^ 

new  may  be,  and  often  is,  holier  than  the  old — the  work  of  a  single 
day  better  than  that  of  a  thousand  years.     The  soul  of 

*  The  fond  adorer  of  departed  fame* 

sometimes  falls  asleep  on  the  tomb  of  the  good  and  great  of  other 
times,  to  the  oblivion  of  far  higher  living  worth ;  or  dozes  over  the 
inscription  graven  there  by  the  gratitude  of  a  former  age,  instead  of 
more  wisely  recording  the  triumphs  of  contemporary  genius  or  vir- 
tue. Reason  must  be  awakened  from  her  slumbers  or  her  dreams 
in  the  arms  of  imagination  that  loves  to  haunt  old  places,  and  to 
walk  in  reveries  among  the  shades  of  antiquity.  The  Liberal  Press 
— I  take  the  word  as  I  find  it  in  general  use— often  breaks  these  de- 
lusions ;  for  they  often  are  delusions,  and  it  oftener  shows  us  to  dis- 
tinguish shadow  from  substance — fiction  from  truth — superstition 
from  devotion.  It  thus  does  good  at  times  when  perhaps  it  is  intend* 
ing  evil ;  but  at  times  it  intends  good — does  good — and  therefore  is 
strictly  entitled  to  unqualified  and  fervent  praise.  Such  praise  I 
give  it  now,  James — and  if  Gurney  be  not  asleep,  it  will  rmg  in  the 
ears  of  the  public,  who  will  ratify  the  award. 

Shepherd,  But  are  you  sure  that  the  evil  doesna  greatly  prepon- 
derate in  the  scale  ? 

North,  I  am  sure  it  does  preponderate — ^but  let  us,  the  Illiberals, 
fling  in  good  into  the  good,  andNve  restore  the  balance. 

Shepherd,  That's  incorreck.  The  evil,  light  in  comparison,  kicks 
the  beam — and  the  good  in  the  other  bucket  o'  th^  balance  remains, 
for  the  use  o'  man,  steady  on  a  rock. 

North.  And  here  it  is  that  Sou  they 's  self  authorizes  me  to  contra- 
dict Southey.  While  he,  and  others  like  him — a  few.  perhaps,  his 
equals,  at  least  in  power,  such  as  Sir  Walter,  S.  T.  Coleridge,  and 
William  Wordsworth — and  not  a  few,  his  inferiors  indeed  in  power, 
but  nevertheless  his  equals  in  zeal  and  sincerity — and  the  many  who, 
without  any  very  surpassing  talents,  do  yet  acquire  force  from  faith, 
and  have  reliance  on  religion — I  say,  James,  while  that  sacred  band 
moves  on  in  firm  and  united  phalanx,  in  discipline  meet  to  their 
valor,  nor  in  bright  array  wanting  their  music-bands  vocal  and  in- 
strumental, to  hymn  them  on  in  the  march  to  victory — who  will 
fear  the  issue  of  the  battle,  or  doubt  that  beneath  the  Champions  of 
the  Cross  the  Hosts  of  the  Misbelievers  will  sustain  a  signal  and 
fatal  overthrow  1 

Shepherd.  You've  been  speakin',  sir,  I  perceive,  by  implication, 
o'  infidels,  that's  deists  and  atheists,  a'  the  time  you  were  discussin' 
demagogues;  but  hae  ye  ony  thing  mair  particularly  to  say  o' 
infidels  by  themsells,  as  being  sometimes  a  separate  gang  ?  Let's 
hear't. 

North.  1  believe,  James,  that  there  are  many,  too  many,  oonscien- 


Digitized  by 


Google 


mOOKSISTBNOT  0¥   OEI8TB.  408 

tious  deists — deists  on  conviction — on  conviction  consequent  on  can- 
did  and  extensive,  but  not  philosophical  and  profound  inquiry  into 
the  evidences,  internal  and  external,  of  Christianity. 

Shepherd,  Ah !  sir.     That's  scarcely  possible. 

North,  It  is  true.  But  such  men  do  not  often — they  very  rarely 
seek  to  disturb  the  faith  of  others — and  few  of  them  carry  their 
creed  on  with  them  to  old  age,  for  the  Lamp  of  Revelation  burns 
more  brightly  before  eyes  that  feel  the  dimness  of  years  shrouding 
all  mortal  things.  In  meridian  manhood,  it  seems  to  them  that  the 
Sun  of  Natural  Theology  irradiates  all  being,  and  in  that  blaze  the 
Star  of  Revelation  seems  to  fade  away  and  be  hidden.  But  as  they 
approach  the  close  of  life,  they  come  to  know  that  the  Sun  of  Natu- 
ral Theology — and  it  is  a  Sun — had  shone  upon  them  with  a  borrow- 
ed light,  and  that  the  Book  of  Nature  had  never  been  so  read  by 
them  but  for  the  Book  of  God.  They  live  Deists,  and  they  die 
Christians. 

Shepherd.  In  gude  truth,  sir,  I  bae  kent  some  affecting  cases  o'  that 
kind. 

North,  Now  observe  the  inconsistent  conduct  of  such  men ;  an 
mconsistency,  1  believe,  must  attach  to  the  character  of  every  vir- 
tuous deist  in  a  country  where  Christianity  prevails  in  its  Protest- 
ant purity,  and  is  the  faith  of  an  enlightened  national  intellect. 
Rarely,  indeed,  if  ever,  do  they  teach  their  children  their  own  creed. 
Their  disbelief,  therefore,  cannot  be  an  utter  disbelief.  For,  if  it 
were,  a  good  and  conscientious  man — and  I  am  supposing  the  deist 
to  be  such — could  not  make  a  sacrifice  of  the  truth  for  the  sake  of 
them  he  dearly  loved ;  such  sacrifice,  indeed,  would  be  the  height 
of  folly  and  wickedness.  For  if  he  knows  Christianity  to  be  an 
imposture,  beautiful  though  the  imposture  be — and  no  human  heart 
ever  yet  denied  its  beauty, — conscience,  God's  vicegerent  here  be- 
low, would  command  him  to  begin  with  exposing  the  imposture  to 
the  wife  of  his  bosom,  and  the  children  of  their  common  blood. 
But  all  unknown  perhaps  to  himself,  or  but  faintly  known,  the  day- 
spring  from  on  high  has  with  gracious  glimpses  of  light  visited  his 
conscience,  and  that  conscience,  heaven-touched,  trembles  to  disown 
the  source  from  which  comes  that  gentle  visiting,  and,  with  its  still 
small  voice,  more  divine  than  he  is  aware  of,  whispers  him  not  to 
initiate  in  another  faith  the  hearts  of  the  guileless  and  the  innocent, 
by  nature  open  to  receive  the  words  of  eternal  life.     And  thus. 

While  Virtue's  self  and  Genius  did  adorn 
With  a  sad  charm  the  blinded  deist's  scorn. 
Religion's  self,  by  moral  goodness  won, 
Hath  smiled  forgiving  on  her  skeptic  son  1 

Shepherd,  They  are  muckle  to  be  pitied,  my  dear  sir ;  and  it's 


Digitized  by 


Google 


I 


404  KOCTES  AKBBOeiAmB. 

neither  for  you  nor  me,  nor  ony  body  else,  to  be  hard  upon  them  ; 
and  I'll  answer  for  Mr.  Soothey,  that  were  ony  such  to  visit  him  in 
his  ain  hoose  at  Keswick,  he  wad  be  as  kind  to  him  as  he  was  in 
the  autumn  o'  aughteen  hunder  and  fourteen  to  mysell,  show  him 
his  beautifu'  and  maist  astonishing  leebrary,  toast  breed  fur  him  at 
breakfast  wi'  his  ain  hauns,  wi'  that  ]ang-shank*d  fork,  and  tak  an 
oar  wi'  him  in  a  boat  roun  the  isles,  and  into  the  bays  o'  Derwent- 
vater  Loch,  arausin'  him  wi'  his  wut,  and  instructin'  him  wi'  his 
wisdom. 

North,  I  know  he  would,  James.  From  such  deists,  then,  though 
their  existence  is  to  be  deplored,  little  or  no  danger  need  be  feared 
to  revealed  religion.  But  there  are  many  more  deists  of  a  different 
stamp;  the  shallow,  superficial,  insensible,  and  conceited — the  pro- 
fligate, and  the  brutal,  and  the  wicked.  I  hardly  know  which  are 
in  the  most  hopeless  condition.  Argument  is  thrown  away  on  both 
— ^for  the  eyes  of  the  one  are  too  weak  to  bear  the  light ;  and  those 
of  the  other  love  only  darkness.  "They  hate  the  light  because  their 
deeds  are  dark."  The  former  fade  like  insects ;  the  latter  perish 
like  beasts.  But  the  insects  flutter  away  their  lives  among  weeds 
and  flowers,  and  are  of  a  sort  that  sting  nobody,  though  they  may 
tease  in  the  twilight;  while  the  beasts  bellow,  and  gore,  and  toss, 
and  therefore  must  be  hoodwinked  with  boards, — the  tips  of  their 
horns  must  be  sawed  ofl*,  a  chain  passed  through  their  noses — they 
must  be  driven  from  the  green  pastures  by  the  living  waters,  on  to 
the  bare  brown  common ;  and,  unfit  for  the  shambles,  must  be 
knocked  on  the  head,  and  sold  to  the  hounds — "  down  to  the  ground 
at  once,  as  butcher  felleth  ox." 

Shepherd.  There  are  owre  mony  o'  the  insecks  in  Scotland;  but^ 
thank  God,  but  few  o'  the  beasts. 

North,  Because  in  Scotland,  James,  the  Church,  as  Wordsworth 
well  says,  holds  over  us  "  the  strong  hand  of  its  purity  ;"  and  thus 
in  fidelity  has  been  chiefly  confined  to  philosophers  who  would  not 
suflfer  the  Church  to  catch  hold  ;  while,  as  the  beasts  I  speak  of  are 
most  likely  to  arise  among  the  lower  orders,  the  Church  being  om- 
nipotent there,  the  bulls  of  Bashan  are  but  a  scant  breed.  In  England, 
from  many  causes,  some  of  them  inevitable  in  a  land  so  rich,  and 
populous,  and  many  citied,  and  some  of  them  existing  in  neglect  of 
duties  secular  and  religious,  the  beasts  are  seen  of  a  larger  size,  and 
in  larger  droves ;  but  providentially,  by  a  law  of  Nature,  the  bulls 
calved  have  always  been  in  the  proportion  of  a  hundred  to  one  to 
the  cows;  and  as  that  proportion  is  always  increasing,  we  may  even 
hope  that  in  half  a  century  the  last  quey  will  expire,  and  then  the 
male  monsters  will  soon  become  utterly  extinct. 

Shepherd,  Od  man,  I  never  heard  you  so  feegurative  as  you  are 


Digitized  by 


Google 


THOMAS  PAINB.  405 

tlie  nicht ;  yet  I  maun  alloo  that  maist  part  o*  them's  capital,  and 
but  few  very  muckle  amiss. 

North,  ISoWy  James,  with  such  infidels  as  these  how  are  we  to 
deal  f  First  of  all  they  are  doomed,  living  and  dying,  to  universal 
loathing,  ignominy,  scorn,  and  execration.  All  that  is  good.  It 
curses  them  into  hatred  of  their  species — and  that  curse  is  intensi- 
fied by  the  conviction  that  their  hatred  is  of  little  or  no  avail  to  hurt 
the  hair  of  any  one  Christian's  head.  Further,  their  books — for 
they  sometimes  write  books — are  smashed,  pounded  into  pulp,  and 
flung  into  their  faces  till  they  are  blind.  Groping  in  their  darkne^ 
they  pick  the  pulp  up — spread  it  out  again,  and  dry  it  in  the  sun, 
whose  Maker  they  blaspheme  ;  and  over  and  over  again,  after  each 
repetition  of  the  blow — the  blash  on  their  eyes — they  re-commence 
their  manufacture  of  blotted  paper,  and  scrawl  it  over  with  the  same 
impious  and  senseless  scribble,  all  the  while  assured  of  the  same 
result,  yet  instigated  by  the  master  they  serve,  the  Devil.  The 
more  they  are  baffled,  the  more  wickedly  they  persevere,  till  the 
snuff  of  their  wretched  life  goes  out,  like  Tom  Paine's,  in  a  stink, 
and  some  Cobbett  completes  their  infamy,  by  his  consecration  of 
their  bones. 

Shepherd,  Yet  I  fear,  sir,  Tom  Paine  worked  great  evil,  even  in 
Scotland. 

North.  No,  James;  very  little  indeed.  The  times  were  then 
troubled,  and  ripe  for  mischief.  Paine's  blasphemy  caused  the  boil 
to  burst  A  wise  and  humane  physician,  the  illustrious  and  immor- 
tal Richard  Watson,  Lord  Bishop  of  Llandaff,  applied  a  sacred  salve 
to  the  sore — the  wound  healed  kindly,  soon  cicatrized,  and  the 
patient  made  whole  again,  bounded  in  joy  and  liberty  like  a  deer 
upon  the  hills.* 

Shepherd.  Feegar  after  feegar — in  troops,  bands,  and  shoals! 
What  a  teeming  and  prolific  imagination !  And  in  auldest  age  may 
it  never  be  efiete  I 

North.  Your  affection  for  your  father,  my  dear  son  James,  sees 
in  my  eye,  and  hears  in  my  voice,  meanings  which  exist  not  in 
them — but  the  light  and  the  breath  touch  your  spirit,  and  from  its 
soil  arise  flowers  and  shrubs  indigenous  to  the  blessed  soil  of  our 
ain  dear  Scotland. 

Shepherd.  Is  the  theme  exhausted — the  well  run  dry — the  last 

*  Whan  Cobbtttrtturned  to  England,  from  the  United  States,  in  1810,  h«  brought  with  him 
vhat  h«  said  were  the  bones  of  Tom  Paine — there  are  etrDng  grounds  for  belierin^  that  ihej 
were  tbe  remains  of  some  otber  person.  Cobbett  did  this  with  the  design  of  indicating  his 
own  high  opinion  of  Paine,  as  a  political  and  financial  writer.  In  England,  howerer,  Paine 
had  chiefljr  Men  known  as  one  who  had  written  sirainst  the  Bible,  and  Cobbett  injured  him- 
self moch  bjr  what  he  had  done.  In  1796  Bishop  Watson,  (who  twenty  years  before,  had  pub- 
lished **  An  Apology  for  ChristianitT.'^  in  reply  to  Gibbon,)  undertook  to  refute  Paine's  thfolo- 
gioal  book,  and  pr«>dnced  his  ^*  Apology  for  the  Bible."  Notwithstanding  the  praise  giren  te 
U  by  North,  Watson's  was  really  so  weak,  that  a  wit  suggested  that  U  should  be  called  **The 
Fourth  part  of  *  The  Age  of  Reason,'  by  Richard,  Bishop  of  Llandaff.**— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


406  HOOTB8  AlfBBOBIAJ!r.& 

leaf  shaken  frae  the  tree — wull  the  string  no  hand  another  pearl,  or 
is  the  diver  tired — has  your  croon  gotten  on  the  centre-tap  the  feenal 
and  consubiroatia'  diamond,  or  do  the  dark  unfathomed  caves  o* 
ocean  bear  nae  mair — can  the  rim  roun'  it  support  na  great  wecht  o' 
gowd,  or  is  the  mine  wrought  out — wull  the  plumes  o'  thocht  that 
form  the  soarin'  crest  aboon  yonr  coronet  no  admit  anither  feather 
frae  the  train  o'  the  bird  o'  Paradise,  or  is  the  bird  itsell  flown  awa' 
into  the  heart  o*  the  Garden  o'  Eden  ?  Answer  me  that  mony- 
feegar'd  interrogatory  in  the  conceeseness  o'  a  single  word,  or  in  the 
dimision  o'  a  thousan* — let  your  voice  be  as  the  monotones  of  the 
simplest  Scottish  melody,  or  as  the  multitudinousness  of  the  maist 
complex  German  harmony,  the  ain  like  takin'  a  few  short  easy  steps 
up  a  green  gowany  brae,  and  the  ither  like  rinnin'  up  and  doun  end- 
less flights  o'  stairs  leading  through  a'  the  mazes  o'  some  immense 
cathedral,  frae  the  gloom  o'  cells  and  oratories  on  the  grun-floor,  or 
even  aneath  the  rock-foundation,  to  the  roof  open  within  its  battle- 
ments to  the  night-circle  o'  the  blue  boundless  heavens,  with  their 
moon  and  stars.  There's  a  touch  for  you,  ye  auld  conceited  carle 
o'  the  picturesque,  the  beautifu',  and  shooblime ;  nor  ever  dare  to 
think,  much  less  say  again,  that  I,  James  Hogg,  the  Ettrick  Shep- 
herd, am  not  a  poet  equal  to  a'  the  three  pitten  thegither,  Ramsay, 
Kinnigham,  and  Burns,  though  they,  I  acknowledge,  till  the  star  of 
Mount  Benger  arose,  were  the  Tria  Lumina  Scotorum  of  our  north- 
em  sky.  But  I,  sir,  I  am  the  great  flashing,  rustling  Aurora  Bore* 
alls,  that  gars  a'  the  Three  "  pale  their  ineffectual  fires"  in  my  elec- 
trical blaze,  till  the  een  o'  our  millions  are  dazzled  wi'  the  corusca- 
tions ;  and  earth  wonders,  and  o'  its  wonderin'  finds  no  end,  at  the 
troublous  glory  o*  the  incomprehensible  heaven.  There's  a  touch  o' 
the  magnificent  for  you,  ye  auld  wicked  scoonrel !  Equal  that,  and 
ril  pay  the  bill  out  o'  my  ain  pouch,  and  fling  a  dollar  for  himsell 
to  Tappytourie,  without  askin'  for  the  change.     Eh  ! 

North.  The  evil  done  by  the  infidel  writings  you  alluded  to, 
James,  was  not  of  long  duration,  and  out  of  it  sprang  great  good. 
Many,  it  is  true,  suflfered  the  filth  of  Paine  to  defile  their  Bibles.* 
But  ere  a  few  moons  went  up  and  down  the  sky,  their  hearts  smote 
them  on  account  of  the  insult  done  to  the  holy  leaves ;  tears  of  re- 
morse, contrition,  and  repentance,  washed  out  the  stain  ;  every  re- 
newed page  seemed  then  to  shine  with  a  purer  and  diviner  lustre — 
they  clasped  and  unclasped  with  a  more  reverent  hand 
"The  big  ha*  Bible,  aince  their  Fathers'  pride.* 
Its  black  cloth  cover  was  thenceforth  more  sacred  to  the  eyes  of  all 
the  family ;  with  more  pious  care  was  it  replaced  by  husband  and 

*  Strangelj  •nongh,  it  wu  in  relicioiu,  Bibl«-reading  SootUnd,  th&t  Piine^s  "  Ag«  of  R«b> 
•on"  had  the  grratest  circnUticn  and  popnjarity.    Thia  waa  prmred  by  undaaiabU  eridanoa 


Digitized  by 


Google 


KFFEUl'S  OF  BAD  OOVBRNMBNT.  407 

wife,  after  morning  and  evening  worship,  in  the  chest  beside  the 
bridal  linen  destined  to  be  their  shroud.  Search,  now,  all  the  cot- 
tages of  Scotland  through,  and  not  one  single  copy  of  the  Age  of 
Reason  will  you  find  ;  but  you  will  find  a  Bible  in  the  shieling  of 
the  loneliest  herdsman. 

Shepherd.  You  speak  God's  truth,  for  I  ken  Scotland  weel !  and 
sae  do  you,  for  I  hae  heard  you  was  a  wonderfu'  walker  in  your 
youth  ;  and  for  the  last  twenty  years,  to  my  certain  knowledge,  you 
hae  ridden  on  a  race  o*  surefooted  pownies,  far  better  than  ony  Span- 
ish or  Portuguese  mules,  a'  through  amang  the  mountains,  by  kittle 
bridle-paths ;  and  I'm  only  astonished  that  you  never  brak  your 
neck. 

North.  The  main  causes  of  infidelity  lie  in  ignorance  and  misery, 
especially  in  that  worst  of  all  misery — guilt,  but  poverty,  brought 
on  by  either  the  profligacy  of  the  laboring  classes,  or  by  the  igno- 
rance or  folly  of  their  rulers,  embitters  the  heart  into  sullen  or  fierce 
disbelief.  A  wise  Political  Economy,  therefore,  is  one  of  the  strong- 
est and  happiest  safeguards  of  religion. 

Shepherd,  1  canna  understaun'  it  ava.  Ricardo*8  as  obscure  as 
Ezekiel. 

North.  Though  dealing  directly  but  with  temporal  things,  it  bears, 
James,  on  those  that  are  eternal.  Statist,  statesman,  philosopher, 
and  priest,  if  they  know  their  duty  and  discharge  it,  all  work  together 
for  one  great  end. 

Shepherd.  That^s  geyan  like  common  sense. 

North.  When  the  social  state  of  a  people  is  disturbed  by  the  dis- 
arrangement  of  the  natural  order,  and  changes  of  the  natural  course 
of  agriculture,  manufactures,  and  commerce,  will  not  morality  and 
religion,  my  dear  James,  sink  with  the  sinking  prosperity  of  the 
country  ? 

Shepherd.  They  wull  that. 

North.  The  domestic  virtues  cannot  live  through  the  winter,  round 
a  starved  board  and  a  cold  hearth.  Sound  sleep  shuns  not  a  hard 
bed — but  no  eye  can  long  remain  closed  on  a  truckle  which  next  day 
may  see  in  a  pauper's  roup  at  the  city -cross. 

Shepherd.  An*  what's  the  drifl  o'  a'  thae  vera  true  and  excellent 
observations  1 

North.  That  much  of  the  worst  spirit  which  we  deplore  in  the  peo- 
ple, though  it  may  be  cruelly  exasperated  and  exacerbated  by  dema- 
gogues and  infidels,  owes  to  them  neither  its  origin  nor  chief  growth 
and  nature,  but  springs  out  of  the  very  frame  and  constitution  of 
society  in  all  great  kingdoms. 

Shepherd.  And  is  that  a  consoling  doctrine,  think  ye,  sir,  or  one 
that  gars  us  despair  for  our  species? 

North.  What !  shall  I  despair  of  my  spedes,  because  I  see  long 


Digitized  by 


Google 


408  NOCTES   AlIBB08IAN.fi. 

periods  in  the  history  of  my  own  and  other  countries,  when  the 
moral  condition  of  the  people  has  been  withered  or  blasted  by  the 
curse  of  an  incapable,  unfeeling,  or  unprincipled  government? 

Shepherd,  But  that's  no  the  chaiacter  of  the  present  Government 
o'  our  k intra,  Mr.  North  ? 

North,  It  must  strengthen  their  hands  and  hearts,  James,  to  know 
that  you  are  not  in  opposition.  But  to  return  for  one  moment  more 
to  the  subject  of  the  infidelity  of  the  lower  orders,  how  beautifully, 
my  dear  James,  do  all  the  best  domestic  affections,  when  suffered 
to  enjoy  themselves  even  in  tolerable  repose  and  peace,  blend  into, 
and,  as  it  were,  become  one  and  the  same  with  religion  !  Let  human 
nature  have  but  fair  play  in  life — let  but  his  physical  necessities  be 
duly  supplied — and  ail  its  moral  sympathies  and  religious  aspirations 
kindle  and  aspire.  What  other  religion  but  Christianity  was  ever 
the  religion  of  the  poor  ?  But  the  poor  sometimes  cease  to  be  Chria- 
tians,  and  curse  their  existence.  And  Mr.  Huskisson  would  be 
shocked  to  see  and  hear  how  that  happens,  were  he  to  make  an  occa- 
sional pilgrimage  and  sojourn  in  Spitalfields,  instead  of  abusing  its 
wretched  dwellers. 

Shepherd,  It's  very  unfair,  I  see,  sir,  to  lay  the  blame  o'  the  irre- 
ligion  of  the  poor  when  they  are  irreligious,  as  there's  but  owre 
mony  o'  them,  according  to  Mr.  Soothey  and  you,  in  England  at  his 
present  era,  on  the  shoothers  o'  the  priesthood.  What  gude  wull 
preachin'  and  prayin'  do  them,  when  folks  are  starvin*  o'  cauld,  and 
oae  naethin'  either  to  eat  or  drink  1 

North,  1  have  known  a  poor  old  sailor,  James,  who  had  eat  noth- 
in'  for  two  days,  dismissed  from  her  door  by  a  pious  lady,  not  with 
a  loaf  in  his  pouch — for  she  referred  him  to  the  parish — but>— a 
Bible. 

Shepherd,  That  was  very  wicked.  Let  the  body  be  attended  to 
first,  and  the  sowle  afterwards,  or  you're  fleein'  in  the  face  o'  the 
Ten  Commandments.  That,  I  dinna  doot,  was  the  pious  leddy's  ain 
case ;  fur  wasna  she  a  widow  wi'  a  gude  jointure,  fat,  frowsy,  and 
forty,  wi'  great  big  peony-rose  knots  o*  ribbons  a*  roun'  her  mutch, 
and  about  to  try  it  on  again,  in  the  way  o'  marriage  wi'  a  strappiu' 
Methody  preacher  1 

North,  Before  the  consummation  of  that  event  she  died  of  a  sur- 
feit from  an  inordinate  guzzle  on  a  prize-haggis.  Much  as  she  talked 
about  the  Bible,  she  showed  in  practice,  that  she  preferred  the  pre- 
cepts (»f  Meg  Duds.  *  Cookery  was,  in  fact,  her  Christianity,  and 
hers  a  kitchen  creed  ;  yet  I  heard  her  funeral  sermon  preached  by 
a  great  greasy  villain,  with  long  black,  lank,  oily  hair,  and  the  moat 
sensual  face  ever  seen  on  earth  since  Silenus,  who  nauseously  whined 

*  The  inimitable  old  Scots  l&ndlftdy  of  the  CleUram  Inn,  in  **  St.  Ronui's  Weil."— 11. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


THB  XNGLIBH  OHUBCH.  409 

»way  about  her  single-mindedness,  (two  husbands,  remember,  and 
within  a  week  >f  a  third,)  her 

Shepherd,  Od  rot  baith  her  and  him,  are  ye  gaun  to  gar  me  spew  ? 

North,  But  take  it  at  the  worst,  James,  and  let  us  believe,  with 
Mr.  Southey,  that  the  Press  is  now  a  mighty  engine  of  evil  in  the 
hand  of  the  lovers  of  evil.  What  then  1  It  is  the  Press  against  the 
Press.  Wherein  lies  our  trust  1  In  the  mighty  array  that  might 
be — that  is,  on  the  side  of  heaven.  Where  are  the  twenty  thousand 
ministers  of  religion,  more  or  less?  And  in  their  cures  and  bene* 
fices,  rich  or  poor,  what  are  they  about  ?  Are  they  all  broad  awake, 
up,  stirring  and  at  work  ?  If  so,  they  are  more  than  a  match  for  the 
miscellaneous  muster  of  infidels,  the  lumbering  levyen-mass  of  the 
godless,  who,  when  brought  into  action,  present  the  singular  appear- 
ance of  a  whole  large  army  consisting  entirely  of  an  awkward  squad. 

Shepherd.  And  if  any  considerable  number  o'  the  clergy  snore 
awa'  the  week  days  weel  on  tii  eleven  o'clock,  and  set  the  congrega- 
tion asnore  baith  forenoon  and  afternoon  ilka  Sabbath,  showin'  that 
they  think  bapteezin',  and  buryin',  and  marryin',  and  prayin',  and 
preecbin',  a  sair  drawback  and  doondracht  on  the  comforts  o'  a  recto- 
ry ;  then,  I  say,  let  them  be  ca'd  owre  the  coals  by  the  bishop,  and 
if  incorrigible  frae  natural  stupidity  or  acquired  inveteracy  o'  habit, 
let  them  be  deposed  and  pensioned  aff  the  stipen'  o'  their  successors 
wi'  some  fifety  a-year,  aneuch  to  leeve  on  in  sma'  seaport  towns^ 
where  fish  and  coals  are  cheap ;  and  then  they  may  stroll  about  the 
sawns,  wi'  their  hauns  ahint  their  backs,  gatherin'  buckies  and  urchins, 
and  ither  shells,  lookin'  at  the  ships  cumin'  in  and  gangin'  out,  and 
not  to  be  distinguished  frae  half-pay  lieutenants,  except  by  their  no 
swearin'  sae  muckle,  or  at  a'  events  no  the  same  queer  kind  o'  com* 
ical  oaths,  but  equally  wi*  them  daunderin'  about,  ill  aff  for  some-- 
thing  to  do,  and  equally  wi'  them  red  about  the  nose,  thin  in  the 
Caaves,  and  thick  about  the  ankles. 

North.  The  Church  of  England  is  the  richest  in  the  world,  though 
1  am  far  from  thinking  that  its  riches  are  rightly  distributed.  It 
ought,  then,  to  work  well,  since  it  is  paid  well ;  and  I  think,  James, 
tiiat  on  the  whole  it  is,  even  as  it  now  stands,  a  most  excellent 
Church.  It  ought,  however,  to  have  kept  down  Dissenters,  which  it 
has  not  done  ;  and  still  more,  it  ought  to  keep  down  Infidels.  Did 
some  twenty  thousand  Infidels,  educated  in  richly-endowed  univer- 
sities of  their  own,  compose  an  anti-christian  establishment,  O  Satan  1 
how  they  would  stir  hell  and  earth ! 

Shepherd.  Universities,  colleges,  schools,  academies,  cathedrals, 
ministers,  abbeys,  churches,  chapels,  kirks,  relief-meeting-houses, 
tabernacles,  and  whatnot,  without  number  and  without  end,  and  yet 
the  infidels  triumph !  Is't  indeed  sae  ?  Then  pu'  them  doon,  or 
convert  them,  according  to  their  conveniences,  into  theatres,  and 


Digitized  by 


Google 


410  VOCTES  AMBBOBIAK.& 

ridin*  schools,  and  amphitheatres  for  Ducrow,  and  raoket43ourts,  and 
places  for  dry  in'  claes  in  rainy  weather. 

North.  If  Infidelity  overruns  the  land,  then  this  healthy,  wealthy, 
and  wise  Church  of  Englar.d  has  not  done  its  duty,  and  must  be 
made  to  do  it.  If  infidelity  exists  only  in  narrow  lines  and  small 
patches,  then  we  may  make  ourselves  easy  about  the  infidel  press,  and 
knowing  that  the  Church  has  done  the  one  thing  needful,  look  with 
complacency  on  occasional  parson  somewhat  too  jolly,  and  uufre- 
quent  bishop  with  face  made  up  entirely  of  proud  flesh. 

Shepherd,  Sughs  o'  wund,  some  loud  and  some  laigh,  but  pro- 
phetic o'  a  storm,  hae  been  aflen  heard  o'  late  rouir  about  the 
square  towers — for  ye  seldom  see  a  spire  yonner— o'  the  English 
churches.  What  side,  when  comes  the  colleyshangee,  wull  ye,  sir, 
espouse  ? 

North,  That  of  the  Church  of  England,  of  which  Misopseudos 
himself,  with  all  his  integrity  and  talent,  is  not  a  sincerer  friend, 
though  he  may  be  a  more  powerful  champion. 

Shepherd,  Eh  1     What? 

North.  Whisht !  Had  you  your  choice,  James,  pray  what  sort  of 
a  bird  would  you  be? 

Shepherd.  I  wad  transmigrate  intil  a  gae  hantle.  And,  first  and 
foremost,  for  royal  ambition  is  the  poet's  sin,  I  would  be  an  Eagle. 
Higher  than  ever  in  his  balloon  did  Lunardi  soar,  would  I  shoot  up 
into  heaven.  Poised  in  that  empyreal  air,  where  nae  storm-current 
flows,  far  up  abune  the  region  o'  clouds,  with  wide-spread  and  un- 
quivering  wings  would  I  hang  in  the  virgin  sunshine.  Nae  human 
ee  should  see  me  in  my  cerulean  tabernacle — but  mine  should  see 
the  human  specks  by  the  sides  and  rocks  o'  rivers,  creeping  and 
crawling,  like  worms  as  they  are,  over  their  miserable  earthly  flats, 
or  toiling,  like  reptiles  as  they  are,  up  their  majestic  molehills.  Down 
with  a  sughing  swoop  in  one  moment  would  I  descend  a  league  of 
atmosphere,  still  miles  and  miles  above  all  the  dwarf  mountain-taps 
and  pigmy  forests.  Ae  headlong  lapse  mair,  and  my  ears  would 
drink  the  faint  thunder  of  some  puny  cataract ;  anither  mile  in  a 
moment  nearer  the  poor  humble  earth,  and,  lo !  the  woods  are  what 
men  call  majestic,  the  vales  wide,  and  the  mountains  magnificent. 
That  pitiful  bit  of  smoke  is  a  city — a  metropolitan  city.  1  cross  it 
wi'  a  wave  of  my  wing.  An  army  is  on  the  plain,  and  they  are  in- 
deed a  ludicrous  lot  of  Lilliputians. 

They  march  with  weapoDS  in  their  baodt» 

llieir  biumers  bright  diaplmyiog ; 
Aod  all  the  while  their  music  bands 

Triomj^iant  tones  are  playing  1 

The  rags  are  indeed  most  sublime,  waving  to  the  squeak  of  penny 


Digitized  by 


Google 


AN  EAGLE  FLIGHT.  411 

trumpets.  Aye,  the  cloud  below  my  claws  begins  to  rain,  and  the 
martial  array  is  getting  a  thorough  soaking — those  noble  animals, 
horses,  like  so  many  regiments  of  half-drowned  rats.  Too  contempt- 
ible to  look  at — so  away  up  again  to  the  sky -heart,  and  for  an  hour's 
float,  far,  far  above  the  sea.  Tiny  though  they  be,  I  love  to  look  on 
those  thousand  isles,  mottling  the  main  with  beauty  ;  nor  do  I  de- 
spise the  wave- wanderers,  whom  Britannia  calls  her  men-of-war. 
Guided  by  needle  still  trummlingly  obedient  to  the  pole,  on  go  the 
giant  cockleshells,  which  Heaven  save  from  wreck,  nor  in  storm 
may  one  single  pop-gun  be  flung  overboard  !  ButGrod-given  instinct 
is  my  compass — and  when  the  blackness  of  night  is  on  my  eyes, 
straight  as  an  arrow  or  a  sunbeam  I  shoot  alang  the  firmament,  nor, 
obedient  to  that  unerring  impeller,  deviate  a  mile-breadth  from  the 
line  that  leads  direct  from  the  Grampians  to  the  Andes.  The  roar 
of  ocean ^What — what's  that  I  hear?  You  auld  mannerless  ras- 
cal, is  that  you  I  hear  snorin*  1  Ma  faith,  gin  I  was  an  eagle,  I  wad 
scart  your  haflfets  wi'  tawlons,  and  try  which  o'  our  nebs  were  the 
sharpest.  Weel,  that's  maist  extraordinar — he  absolutely  snores  on 
diflerent  a  key  wi'  each  o'  his  twa  individual  nostrils — snorin'  a  flrst 
and  second  like  a  catch  or  glee.  I  wunner  if  he  can  snore  by  the 
notes,  or  trusts  entirely  to  his  dreaming  ear.  It's  really  no  that  un- 
harmonious — and  I  think  I  hear  him  accompanying  Mrs.  Gentle  on 
the  spinnet.     Let's  coomb  his  face  wi*  burned  cork. 

(  The  Shepherd  applies  a  oark  to  the  fire^  and  makes  North  a 
Blackamoor,) 

North,  Kiss  me,  my  love.  Another.  Sweet — sweet — oh!  'tis 
sweet ! 

Shepherd,  Haw — ^liaw — haw !  Mrs.  Gentle,  gin  ye  kiss  him  the 
noo,  the  pat  'il  no  need  to  ca'  the  kettle 

North,  Be  not  so  coy — so  cold — my  love.  "  Can  danger  lurk 
within  a  kiss?*' 

Shepherd,  Othello— Othello— Othello ! 

North,  {awakening  with  a  tremendous  yawn,)  'Tis  gone — 'twas  but 
a  dream ! 

Shepherd.  Aye,  aye,  what's  that  you  were  dream  in'  about,  sir  1 
Your  face  is  a'  ower  blushes — just  like  a  white  rose  tinged  with  the 
setting  sun. 

North,  I  sometimes  speak  in  my  sleep.     Did  I  do  so  now  ? 

Shepherd,  If  you  did,  sir,  I  did  not  bear  you — for  I  hae  been 
takin'  a  nap  mysell,  and  just  awauken'd  this  moment  wi'  a  fa'  frae 
the  cock  on  a  kirk-steeple.  I  hae  often  odd  dreams ;  and  I  thocht  1 
bad  got  astride  o'  the  cock,  and  was  haudin'  on  by  the  tail,  when  the 
feathers  gave  way,  and  had  it  not  been  a  dream  I  should  infallibly 
have  been  dashed  to  pieces.     Do  you  ever  dream  o'  kissin',  8:r  ? 

North.  Fie,  James ! 


Digitized  by 


Google 


412  Kocrrss  ambbobian^ 

Shepherd,  O,  but  you  look  quite  captivatiu',  quite  seducing  when 
you  blush  that  gate,  sir !  I  never  could  admire  a  dark-complexioned 
man. 

North,  I  do— and  often  wished  mine  had  been  dark      ■   ■ 

Shepherd.  Ye  made  a  narrow  escape  the  noo,  sir ;  for  out  o*  re- 
venge for  youVe  having  ance  coombed  my  &ce  when  I  fell  asleep  on 
my  chair,  I  was  within  an  ace  of  coombin'  yours ;  but  when  I  had 
the  cork  ready,  my  respect,  my  veneration  for  you,  held  my  hawn, 
and  1  flung  it  into  the  awse-hole  ayont  the  fender. 

North,  My  dear  James,  your  filial  affection  for  the  old  man  is 
touching.     Yet,  had  you  done  so,  I  had  forgiven  you 

Shepherd,  But  I  never  could  hae  forgi'en  mysell,  it  would  hae 
been  sae  irreverent  Mr.  North,  I  often  wish  that  we  had  some 
leddies  at  the  Noctes.  When  you're  married  to  Mrs.  Gentle,  you 
maun  bring  her  sometimes  to  Picardy,  to  matroneeze  the  ither 
females,  that  there  may  be-nae  tfcan^a/um  frvagnaium.  And  then 
what  pairties !  Neist  time  she  comes  to  Embro',  we'll  hae  the  He- 
mans,  and  she'll  aiblins  sing  to  us  some  o'  her  ain  beautifti'  SADgSf 
•et  to  tunes  by  that  delightfu'  musical  genius  her  sister. 

North.  And  she  shall  sit  at  my  right  hand        ■ 

Shepherd.  And  me  on  hers  — 

North.  And  with  her  wit  she  shall  brighten  the  dimness  her 
pathos  brings  into  our  eyes,  till  tears  and  smiles  struggle  together 
beneath  the  witchery  of  the  fair  necromanceress.  And  L.  £.  L.,  I 
hope  will  not  refuse  to  sit  on  the  old  man's  left 

Shepherd,  O  man !  but  I  wush  I  could  sit  next  to  her  too :  but 
it's  impossible  to  be,  like  a  bird,  in  twa  places  at  anoe,  sae  I  maun 
submit — ■ — 

North,  Miss  Landon,  I  understand,  is  a  brilliant  creature,  full  of 
animation  and  enthusiasm,  and,  like  Mrs.  Hemans  too,  none  of  your 
lachrymose  muses,  *' melancholy  and  gentlenuinlikey'*  but,  like  the 
daughters  of  Adam  and  Eve,  earnestly  and  keenly  alive  to  all  the 
cheerful  and  pleasant  humanities  and  charities  of  this  everj-day  sub- 
lunary world  of  ours,  where,  besides  poetry,  the  inhabitants  live  on 
a  vast  variety  of  other  esculents,  and  like  ever  and  anon  to  take  a 

flass  of  Berwick's  beer  or  Perkins's  porter  between  ev^i  draughts  oi 
lippocrene  or  Helicon. 
Shepherd.  That's  the  character  o'  a'  real  geniuses,  baith  males  and 
females.  They're  ae  thing  wi'  a  pen  in  their  haun,  at  a  green  desk, 
wi'  only  an  ink-bottle  on't  and  a  sheet  o'  paper— and  anither  thing 
entirely  at  a  white  table  a'  covered  wi'  plates  and  trenchers,  soop  in 
the  middle,  sawmon  at  the  head,  and  a  sirloin  o'  beef  or  mutton  at 
the  fit,  wi'  turkeys,  and  howtowdies,  and  tongues,  and  hams,  and  a' 
mainner  of  vegetables,  roun  the  sides — to  say  naethine  o'  tarts  and 
flummeries,  and  the  Delap,  Stilton,  or  feenal  cheese— Parmesan. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


A  lady's  PBOB060I8.  413 

North,  You  surely  don't  mean  to  say,  James,  that  poetesses  are 
fond  of  good  eating?  > 

Shepherd,  Na.  But  I  mean  to  say  that  they  are  not  addicted, 
like  green  girls,  to  eatin'  lime  out  of  walls,  or  chowin*  chalk,  or  even 
sookin'  barley-sugar  and  sweeties  in  the  forenoon  to  the  spoilin'  o' 
their  natural  and  rational  denner;  but,  on  the  contrair,  that  they 
are  mistress  of  a  moderate  slice  o'  roast  and  biled  butcher's  meat ; 
after  that  the  wing  or  the  merry-thocht  o'  a  fule ;  and  afler  that 
again  some  puddin',  perhaps,  or  some  berry -pie,  some  jeely,  or  some 
blawmange ;  taukin'  and  smilin'  and  lauchin'  at  intervals  a'  the 
while  to  their  neist-chair  neighbor,  waxing  wutty  on  his  hauns  wi'  a 
little  encouragement,  and  joinin'  sweetly  or  gaily  wi'  the  general 
discoorse,  when,  after  the  cloth  has  been  drawn,  the  dinin'-room  be- 
gins to  murmur  like  a  hive  of  honey-bees  afler  a'  the  drones  are 
dead  ;  and  though  a'  present  hae  stings,  nane  ever  think  o'  usin' 
them,  but  in  genial  employment  are  busy  in  the  sunshine  o'  sociality 
wi'  probosces  and  wings. 

North,  What  do  you  mean  by  a  young  lady  being  busy  with  her 
proboscis,  James  ? 

Shepherd,  O,  ye  coof !  it's  allegorical ;  sae  are  her  wings.  Pro- 
boscis is  the  Latin  for  the  mouth  o'  a  bee,  and  its  instrument  for 
making  honey,  that  is,  for  extracting  or  inhaling  it  out  o'  the  inner 
speerit  o'  flowers.  Weel,  then,  why  not  allegorically  speak  of  a 
young  lady's  proboscis — for  drops  not,  distils  not  honey  frae  her 
sweet  mouth  ?  And  where  think  ye,  ye  auld  crabbit  critical  carle, 
does  her  proboscis  find  the  elementary  particles  thereof,  but  hidden 
amang  the  saflest  leaves  that  lie  faulded  up  in  the  heart  o'  the  hea- 
Ten-sawn  flowers  o'  happiness  that  beautify  and  bless  the  bosom  o' 
this  itherwise  maist  dreary  and  meeserable  earth  ? 

North,  Admirable  !     Proboscis  let  it  be 

Shepherd.  Yes,  just  f«e.  And  neist  time  your  dreamin'  o*  Mrs. 
Gentle,  murmur  out  wi'  a  coomed  face,  "O,  'tis  sweet,  sweet!  One 
ither  taste  of  your  proboscis !     O,  'tis  sweet,  sweet !  '* 

North,  {starting  up  furiously,)  With  a  coombed  face  1  Have  you 
dared,  you  swineherd,  to  cork  my  face  7  If  you  have,  you  shall 
repent  it  till  the  latest  day  of  your  life. 

Shepherd.  You  surely  will  forgive  me  when  you  hear  I'm  on  my 

deathbed 

North,  {at  the  mirror,)  Blackguard  ! 

Shepherd,  'Tweel  you're  a*  that.  I  ca'  that  epithet  multum  in 
parvo.  You're  a  maist  complete  blackguard — that's  beyond  a'  man- 
ner o'  doot.  Whatn'  whites  o'  een  !  and  whatn'  whites  o'  teeth ! 
But  your  hair's  no  half  grizzly  aneuch  for  a  blackamoor — at  least  an 
African  ane — and  gies  you  a  sort  o'  uncanny  mongrel  appearance 
that  wud  frichten  the  King  o'  Congo. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


414  NOOTES  AMBBOBIAlf  JL 

North,  Talking  of  Mrs.  Hemans  and  Miss  Landon  with  a  &oe  as 
black  as  the  crown  of  my  hat ! 

Shepherd,  And  a  great  deal  blacker.  The  croon  o'  yonr  hat's 
broon,  and  I  wunner  youVe  no  ashamed,  sir,  to  wear't  on  the  streets ! 
but  your  face,  sir,  is  as  black  as  the  back  o'  that  chimley,  and  baith 
wud  be  muckle  the  better  o'  the  sweeps. 

Nortli,  James,  I  have  ever  found  it  impossible  to  be  irate  with 
you  more  than  half  a  minute  at  a  time  during  these  last  twenty  years. 
I  forgive  yuu — and  do  you  know  that  I  do  not  look  so  much  amiss  in 
cork.     Ton  honor 

Shepherd,  It's  a  great  improvement  on  you,  sir — and  I  would  se- 
riously advise  you  to  coomb  your  face  every  day  when  you  dress  for 
denner.  But  wunna  you  ask  Miss  Jewsbury  to  the  first  male  and 
female  Noctes.     She's  really  a  maist  superior  lassie.* 

North,  Both  in  prose  and  verse.  Her  Phantasmagoria,  two  mis- 
cellaneous volumes,  teem  with  promise  and  performance.  Always 
acute  and  never  coarse 

Shepherd,  Qualities  seldom  separable  in  a  woman.  See  Leddy 
Morgan. 

North,  But  Miss  Jewsbury  is  an  agreeable  exception.  Always 
acute  and  never  coarse,  this  amiable  and  most  ingenious  young 
leddy 

Shepherd,  Is  she  bonny ! 

North,  I  believe  she  is,  James.  But  I  do  not  pretend  to  be  posi- 
tive on  that  point,  for  the  only  time  I  ever  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
Miss  Jewsbury,  it  was  but  for  a  momentary  glance  among  the 
mountains.  Mounted  on  a  pretty  pony,  in  a  pretty  rural  straw  hat, 
and  a  pretty  rural  riding  habit,  with  the  sunshine  of  a  cloudless 
heaven  blended  on  her  countenance  with  that  of  her  own  cloudless 
soul,  the  young  author  of  Phantasmagoria  rude  smilingly  along  a 
beautiful  vale,  with  the  illustrious  Wordsworth,  whom  she  vene- 
rates, pacing  in  his  poetical  way  by  her  side,  and  pouring  out  poetry 
in  that  glorious  recitative  of  his,  till  **  the  vale  was  overflowing  with 
the  sound."  Wha,  Jamie,  wudna  hae  luck'd  bonny  in  sica  predeeo- 
ament? 

Shepherd,  Mony  a  ane  wad  hae  luked  desperate  ugly  in  sic  a  pre* 
deecament — far  mair  ugly  than  when  walking  on  fit  wi'  some  re- 
spectable common-place  young  man,  in  a  gingham  gown,  by  the 
hanks  of  a  canawl  in  a  level  kintra.  Place  a  positively  plain 
woman  in  a  poetical  predeecament,  especially  where  she  doesna 

*  Maria  Jana  Jawtbory  wac  a  resident  of  Manchester.  Her  **  Phantasmagoria"  immediately 
made  her  popular.  She  afterwards  wrote  "The  Three  Histories,"  in  whieh  she  care  a  brilliant 
■ketch  ot  Mrs.  Hemans,  (who,  by  the  way,  was  much  freckled  in  the  face,  and  bad  foxy  hair!) 
which  has  been  partially  copied  into  the  biographies  by  Chorley  and  her  sister.  She  made 
Wordswortb's  aoauaintance.  and  visited  him  at  Rydal.  She  married  a  clergyman  ramed 
Fletcher,  whtm  sne  accompanied  to  the  East  Indies,  where  she  speedily  died.  Her  sister,  vbo 
bas  written  "  The  Two  SisUrs,"  "  Zoe,"  and  other  works  of  fiction,  residea  in  Manchester.-  M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


loss  JEW8BUBY.  415 

Clearly  comprehend  the  significance  o't,  and  yet  has  been  tauld  that 
it  is  incumbent  on  her  to  show  that  she  enjoys  it,  and  it  is  really 
painfu'  to  ane*s  feelings  to  see  how  muckle  plainer  she  gets  aye  the 
langer  she  glowers,  till  at  last  it^s  no  easy  to  thole  the  face  o'  her ; 
but  you  are  forced  to  turn  awa  your  head,  or  to  Steele  your  een,  nei- 
ther o*  whilk  modes  o'  procedure  perhaps  is  altogether  consistent 
with  the  maist  perfect  propriety  o'  mainners  that  ought  ever  to  sub 
sist  atween  the  twa  different  sexes. 

North,  My  dear  James 

Shepherd,  I'm  thinkin'  Miss  Jewsbury  maun  be  a  bit  bonny  lassie, 
wi*  an  expressive  face  and  fine  figure,*  and,  no  to  minch  the  maitter, 
let  me  just  tell  you  at  ance,  that  it's  no  in  your  power,  Mr.  North, 
to  praise  wi'  ony  warmth  or  cordiality  neither  an  ugly  woman  nor 
an  auld  one — but  let  them  be  but  young  and  fresh  and  fair,  or 
"black  but  comely,  and  then  hoo — you  wicked  rabiawtor — do  you 
keep  casting  a  sheep's  ee  upon  the  cutties !  pretendin'  a'  the  m  hile 
that  it's  their  genius  you're  admirin* — whereas  it's  no  their  genius 
ava,  but  the  livin'  temple  in  which  it  is  enshrined. 

North.  I  plead  guilty  to  that  indictment.  Ugly  women  are 
shocking  anomalies,  that  ought  to  be  hunted,  hooted,  and  hissed  out 
of  every  civilized  and  Christian  community  into  a  convent  in  Cock- 
aigne. But  no  truly  ugly  woman  ever  yet  wrote  a  truly  beautiful 
poem  the  length  of  her  little  finger ;  and  when  beauty  and  genius 
kindle  up  the  same  eyes,  why,  gentle  Shepherd,  tell  me  why  should 
Christopher  North  not  fall  down  on  his  knees  and  adore  the  divinity 
of  his  waking  dreams? 

Shepherd.  The  seldom er,  sir,  you  fall  down  on  your  knees  the 
better;  for  some  day  or  ither  you'll  find  it  no  such  easy  matter  to 
get  up  again,  and  the  adored  divinity  of  your  waking  dreams  may 
have  to  ring  the  bell  for  the  servant  lad  or  lass  to  help  you  on  your 
feet,  as  I  have  somewhere  read  a  French  leddy  had  to  do  in  regard 
to  Mr.  Gibbons  o'  the  Decline  and  Fa.'f 

North.  Nor  must  our  festal  board,  that  happy  night,  miss  the 
light  of  the  countenance  of  the  fascinating  Mrs.  Jameson. 

Shepherd.  Wha'sshe? 

North.  Read  ye  never  the  Diary  of  an  Ennuy^e ! 

Shepherd.  O'  a  what?  An  N,  O,  £1  Is't  a  man  or  a  woman's 
mitialsl 

North.  Nor  the  Loves  of  the  Poets  1 

Shepherd,  Only  what  was  in  the  Maugazin.  But  oh  ?  sir,  yon 
were  maist  beautifu'  specimens  o'  eloquant  and  impassionate  prose 
composition  as  ever  drapped  like  hinny  frae  woman's  lips.  We 
maun  hae  Mrs.  Jameson — we  maun  indeed.     And  wull  ye  hear  till 

*  8be  was  not  handaDine,  bat  had  %  sincvlarly  vmmtX  •zpraMion  of  featnrM'  M. 
t  A  fact.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


416  KocrrEs  ambrosiaxjel 

me,  sir,  there's  a  fine  enthusiastic  bit  lassie,  ca*d  Browne — Ads 
Browne,  I  think,  wha  maun  get  an  inveet,  if  she's  no  ower  young 
to  gang  out  to  sooper  ;* — but  Miss  Mitford,  or  Mrs,  Mary  Howitt, 
will  aiblins  bring  the  bit  timid  cretur  under  their  wing — and  as  for 
roysell,  1  shall  be  as  kind  till  her  as  if  she  were  my  ain  dochter. 

North.     *•  Visioot  of  glory  spare  my  aching  sight — 
Ye  uoborn  Noctee,  prcas  not  oo  my  soul  T 

Shepherd,  What  think  ye,  sir,  o'  the  dogmas  that  high  imagina- 
tion, is  incompatible  wi'  high  intellect,  and  that  as  Science  flourishes 
Poetry  decays  ? 

North,  The  dogmata  of  dunces  beyond  the  reach  of  redemption. 
Imajiination,  my  dear  James,  as  you  who  possess  it  must  know,  is 
intellect  working  according  to  certain  laws  of  feeling  or  passion.  A 
man  may  have  a  high  intellect  with  little  or  no  imagination ;  but  he 
cannot  have  a  high  imagination  with  little  or  no  intellect.  The  In- 
tellect of  Homer,  Dante,  Milton  and  Shakspeare,  was  higher  than 
that  of  Aristotle,  Newton,  and  Bacon.  When  elevated  by  feeling 
into  imagination,  their  Intellect  became  transcendent — and  thus  they 
were  Poets — the  noblest  name  by  far  and  away  that  belongs  t«>  any 
of  the  children  of  men.  So  much,  in  few  words,  for  the  first  dogma 
of  the  dunces.     Is  it  damned  f 

Shepherd.  1  dinna  doot.     What  o'  the  second  ! 

North.  That  the  blockheads,  there  too,  bray  the  most  asinine  as- 
sertion that  was  ever  laboriously  elongated  from  the  lungs  of  an 
Emeritus  donkey  retired  from  public  life  to  his  native  common  on 
an  annual  allowance  of  thistles. 

Shepherd.  That's  funny  aneuch.     You're  a  curious  cretur,  sir. 

North.  Pray,  what  is  science  f  True  knowledge  of  mind  and  mat- 
ter, as  far  as  it  is  permitted  to  us  to  know  truly  anything  of  the 
world  without  and  the  world  within  as,  congenial  in  their  co-exist- 
ence. 

Shepherd.  That  soun's  weel,  and  maun  be  the  right  definition.  Say 
on — you've  a  pleasant  vice. 

North.  What  is  Poetry  f  The  true  exhibition  in  musical  and  met- 
rical speech  of  the  thoughts  of  humanity  when  colored  by  its  feel- 

*  Th«  younf  lady  itm  Mary  Ana  Broivn*^  trhoM  vr«m  of  *'  Ada"  wa«  ]mblish«d  ia  1897, 
before  she  wa«  fifte«n.  Many  other  poetical  work*  foL^'r^'d  in  due  coarM  of  time,  of  which 
*  Iffnatia/'  a  paMionate  taie  of  love,  waa  the  beat.  She  coatribated  many  artiolM  to  thfi 
IMtlin  Unirertitp  Ma^aune^—in  which  Anieric«n  readers  may  recollect  her  ^'Geooa  from  the 
Antique,^'  and  a  beautiful  leries  of  prose  itories  called  **  Recollections  of  a  Portrait  Painter. ** 
Bhe  WM  married   in  her  29th  year  to  Mr.  Jamea  Grey,  (a  nephew  of  the  Ettrick  Shepherd,)  a 

gentleman  much  older  than  herself,  and  went  with  him  to  reside  in  Ireland  She  died,  at 
anday*!  Well.  Cork,  in  1844.  Her  later  poems,  written  after  the  stniff  les  of  life  had  tauchc 
her  to  look  into  her  own  heart,  exhibited  great  force  and  feeling,  with  a  depth  of  thought  be- 
yond what  lady-authors  usually  express.  She  was,  in  many  respecU,one  of  the  most  charming 
women  1  erer  knew ;  certainly  the  most  loveabla  authoress,  che  was  not  handsome,  bnt  her 
eyes  were  remarkably  fine  in  their  dark  beauty,  and  her  ringing  laugh,  (for  she  was  a  mirthful 
creature,  playful  as  a  ycnng  fiiwn  a»''  natural  as  a  young  child,)  waited  muric  ia  its  siirery 
sounds. — M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


POETET  AND  BOIENOB.  417 

ings,  throughout  the  whole  range  of  the  physical,  moral,  intellectual 
and  spiritual  regions  of  its  being. 

Shepherd,  That's  shooblime.  I  wuss  I  could  get  it  aff  by  heart  to 
spoot  at  the  petty  soopies  o'  the  Blues.  But  I  fear  that  I  suld  for- 
get sum  o'  the  prime  words — the  fundamental  features  on  which  the 
feelosophical  definition  hinges,  and  fa'  into  owre  great  nonsense. 

North.  You  thus  see  with  half  an  eye,  James,  that  Poetry  and 
Science  are  identical.  Or  rather,  that  as  Imagination  is  the  highest 
kind  of  Intellect,  so  poetry  is  the  highest  kind  of  Science. 

Shepherd,  I  see't  as  plain  as  a  pike-staff,  or  the  nose  on  your  face. 
Indeed,  plainer  than  the  latter  simile,  for  your  face  being  still  in 
coomb,  or,  as  you  said,  in  cork,  your  nasal  promontory  is  involved 
in  deepest  shadow,  and  is  in  fack  invisible  on  the  general  surface, 
and  amang  the  surrounding  scenery  o'  your  face. 

North,  Thus,  James,  it  is  only  in  an  age  of  Science  that  anything 
worthy  the  name  of  Poetry  can  exist.  In  a  rude  age  there  may  be 
bursts  of  passion— of  imagination  even,  which,  if  you  or  any  other 
man  whom  I  esteem,  insist  on  calling  them  poetry,  I  am  willing  so 
to  designate.  In  that  case,  almost  all  human  language  is  poetry,  nor 
am  I  sure  that  from  the  province  of  such  inspiration  are  we  justified 
in  excluding  the  cawing  of  rooks,  or  the  gabbling  of  geese,  and  cer 
tainly  not  the  more  impassioned  lyrical  efiusions  of  monkeys. 

Shepherd,  Queer  devils,  monkeys ! 

North,  Will  any  antiquary  or  archaeologist  show  me  a  bit  of  poe 
try  as  broad  as  the  palm  of  my  hand,  worth  the  toss  up  of  a  tinker's 
farthing,  the  produce  of  uncivilized  man  f  O  lord,  James,  is  not 
such  stuff  sufficient  to  sicken  a  whole  livery  stable !  In  the  light  of 
knowledge  alone  can  the  eye  of  the  soul  see  the  soul — or  those  flam- 
ing ministers,  the  Five  Senses — 

Shepherd,  Seven,  if  you  please — and  few  aneuch  too,  considerin' 
the  boundless  extent  and  variety  o'  the  universe. 

North,  Or  the  senses  do  their  duties  to  the  soul — for  though  she 
is  their  queen,  and  sends  them  forth  night  and  day  to  do  her  work 
among  the  elements,  yet  seem  they,  material  though  they  be,  to  be 
Kith  and  kin  even  unto  her  their  sovereign,  and  to  be  imbued  with 
some  divine  power  evanescent  with  the  moment  of  corporeal  death, 
and  separation  of  the  spirit. 

Sheplwrd,     Hech ! 

North,  Therefore,  not  till  man,  and  nature,  and  human  life  lie  in 
the  last  light  of  Science,  that  is,  of  knowledge  and  of  truth,  wUl  poe- 
try reach  the  acme  of  its  triumph.     As  Campbell  sings, 

Oome,  bright  Improvement,  on  the  car  of  Time, 
And  role  the  epaciouB  world  from  clime  to  clime ; 

and  still  Poetry  will  be  here  below  Prime  Minister  and  High  Priest 
of  Nature. 

Vol.  ni.~28 


Digitized  by 


Google 


418  NO0TB8  AMBBOfiIAK.B. 

Shepherd^  {with  a  grunt)  What's  that  you  was  sayiDg  about  the 
Prime  Minister  and  the  High  Priest?  Is  the  Dyuck  gangin'  cat) 
and  has  ony  thing  happened  to  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  1 

North.  But  it  is  &nher  asserted,  that  the  human  mind  will  cease 
to  look  on  nature  poetically,  or  poetically  to  feel  her  laws,  in  pro- 
portion as  the  Revelation  becomes  ampler  and  clearer  of  her  myste- 
ries, and  that's 

Shepherd.  I  begin  to  think,  sir,  that  considerin'  thenatur  o'  a  twa- 
handed  crack,  you're  rather  trespassing  upon  the  rights  o'  the  ither 
interlocutor  in  the  dialogue — and  that  it  would  only  be  ordinar' 
gude  mainners  to  alloo  me  to— — 

North,  As  if  an  ignorant  were  higher  and  more  imaginative,  that 
is,  more  poetical,  than  an  enlightened  wonder ! 

Shepherd.  Sumphs! 

North.  Does  the  philosopher  who  knows  what  a  rainbow  is,  cease 
with  delight  to  regard  the  glory  as  it  spans  the  storm !  Does  the 
knowledge  of  the  fact,  that  lightning  is  electricity,  destroy  the  gran- 
deur of  those  black  abysses  in  the  thunderous  clouds,  which  flashing 
it  momentarily  reveals,  and  then  leaves  in  eternal  darkness  ?  Clouds, 
rain,  dew,  light,  heat,  cold,  frost,  snow,  ^sc,  are  all  pretty  well  un- 
derstood now-a-days  by  people  in  general,  and  yet  who  feels  them  to 
be  on  that  account  unpoetical  ?  A  drop  of  dew  on  a  flower  or  leaf, 
a  tear  on  cheek  or  eye,  will  be  felt  to  be  beautiful,  afler  all  man- 
kind have  become  familiarly  acquainted  with  the  perfected  philos- 
ophy of  all  secretions. 

Shepherd.  Are  you  quite  positive  in  your  ain  mind,  that  jouVe 
no  gettin'  tiresome,  sir  ?     Let's  order  sooper. 

North.  Well,  James,  be  it  so. 

{As  the  Shepherd  rises  to  ring  the  hell^  the  timepiece  strikes 
Ten,  and  Picardy  enters  teith  his  Tail. 

Shepherd.  Ye  dinna  mean  to  say,  Mr.  Awmrose,  that  that's  a'  the 
sooper  ?  Only  the  roun',  a  cut  o'  sawmon,  beefsteaks,  and  twa 
brodds  o'  eisters !  This  '11  never  do,  Awmrose.  Remember  there's 
a  couple  o'  us — and  that  a  sooper  that  may  be  no  amiss  for  ane,  may 
be  little  better  than  starvation  to  twa ;  especially  if  them  twa  be  in 
the  prime  and  vigor  o'  life,  hae  come  in  frae  the  kintra,  and  got  yaup 
owre  some  half  dizzen  jugs  o'  Strang  whusky  toddy. 

Ambrose,  (bowing.)  The  boiled  turkey  and  the  roasted  ducks  will 
be  on  the  table  forthwith — unless,  Mr.  Hogg,  you  would  prefer  a 
goose  which  last  week  won  a  sweepstakes 

Sliepherd.  What  1  at  Perth  Races  ?  Was  he  a  bluid-guse,  belong- 
ing to  a  member  o'  the  Caledonian  Hunt? 

Ambrose,  (smiling  )  No,  Mr.  Hogg.  There  was  a  competition  be- 
tween six  parishes  which  should  produce  the  greatest  goose,  and 


Digitized  by 


Google 


THE  PBIZE-OANDBB.  419 

I  had  the  good  fortune  to  purchase  the  successful  candidate,  who  was 
laid,  hatched,  and  brought  up  at  the  Manse  of 

Shepherd,  I  ken  the  successful  candidate  brawly.  Wasiia  he  a 
white  ane,  wi*  a  tremendous  doup  that  soopt  the  grun,  and  hadna  he 
a  contracted  habit  o'  turnin'  in  the  taes  o'  his  left  (it? 

Ambrose,  The  same,  sir.  He  weighed,  ready  for  spit,  twenty 
pounds  jump — feathers  and  giblets  four  pounds  more.  Nor  do  I 
doubt,  Mr.  North,  that  had  your  Miss  Nevison  had  him  for  a  fort- 
night longer  at  the  Lodge,  she  would  have  fattened  him,  (for  he  is  a 
gander,)  up  to  thirty, — that  is  to  say,  with  all  his  paraphernalia. 

Shepherd,  Show  him  in  ;  raw  or  roasted,  show  him  in. 

{Enter  King  Pbpin  and  Sir  David  Gam,  toith  the  successful 
candidate^  supported  by  Mon,  Cadkt  and  Tappytourie.) 
"What  a  strapper !  Puir  chiel,  I  wudna  hae  kent  him,  sae  changed  is 
he  frae  the  time  I  last  saw  him  at  the  Manse,  takin*  a  walk  in  the 
cool  o'  the  Saturday  e'ening,  wi'  his  wife  and  family,  and  ever  and 
anon  gabblin'  to  himsell  in  a  sort  o'  undertone,  no  unlike  a  minister 
rehearsin'  his  sermon  for  the  comin'  Sabbath. 

North.  How  comes  he  to  be  ready  roasted,  Ambrose  ? 

Ambrose,  A  party  of  twenty  are  about  to  sup  in  the  Saloon, 
and 

Shepherd,  Set  him  doon ;  and  if  the  gentlemen  wuss  to  see  North 
out  up  a  goose,  show  the  score  into  the  Snuggery. 

{The  successful  candidate  is  safely  got  on  the  board,) 
Hear  hoo  the  table  groans ! 

North,  I  feel  my  limbs  rather  stiffish  with  sitting  so  long.  Sup- 
pose, James,  that  we  have  a  little  leap-frog. 

Shepherd,  Wi'  a'  my  heart  Let  me  arrange  the  forces  roun'  the 
table.  Mr.  Awmrose,  staun  you  there — ^Mon.  Cadet,  fa*  intil  the 
rear  o'  your  brither — Pippin,  twa  yards  ahint  Awmrose,  junior — 
Sir  Dawvit,  dress  by  his  Majesty — and  Tappytourie,  turn  your  back 
upon  me.  Noo,  loot  doon  a'  your  heads.  Here  goes.  Keep  the 
pie  warm. 

{The  Shepherd  vaults  away^  and  the  whole  circle  is  in  per- 
petual motion;  North  distinguished  by  his  agility  in  the 
ring,) 

North,  {piping,)  Heads  all  up— no  louting.  There  James,  1 
topped  you  without  touching  a  hair. 

Shepherd,  Mirawculous  auld  man!  A  lameter,  too!  I  never 
felt  his  hauns  on  my  shouther ! 

Ambrose.  I'm  rather  short  of  breath,  and  must  drop  out  of  the 
line. 

(Mr.  Ambrose  drops  out  of  the  line,  and  his  place  is  supplied 
by  Tickler,  who  at  that  moment  has  tnterii  the  room  un- 
ci>servcd,) 


Digitized  by 


Google 


420  KO0TE8  AKBBOaiAN^ 

Shepherd,  (coming  unexpectedly  upon  Tioklbr.)  Here's  a  steeple  ! 
What  glamoury's  this  ? 

Nordi,  Stand  aloof,  James,  and  Til  dear  the  weathercock  on  the 
spire. 

(North,  using  his  crutch  as  a  leaping  pole,  clears  Ticklee  in 
grand  style;  but  Tappttourib,  the  next  in  the  series^  bog- 
gUs,  and  remains  balanced  on  Southsidk's  shoulders,) 

Tickler,  Firm  on  your  pins,  North,  Vm  coming. 

(TiCKLBR,  with  Tappttourib  on  his  shoulderSy  clears  Christo- 
PHBR  in  a  canter.) 

Omnes.  Huzza!  huzza!  huzza! 

North,  {addressing  Ticklbr.)  Mr.  Tickler,  it  gives  me  great 
pleasure  to  present  to  you  the  Silver  Fr(^,  which  I  am  sure  will 
never  be  disgraced  by  your  leaping. 

(Ticklbr  stoops  his  head,  and  North  hangs  the  Prize  Silver 
Frog  by  a  silver  chain,  round  his  neck ;  Tappttou&is  dis- 
mounts, and  the  Three  sit  down  to  supper,) 

Shepherd.  Some  sax  or  seven  slices  of  the  breist,  sir,  and  dinna 
spare  the  stuffin'.  Mr.  Awmrose,  gie  my  trencher  a  gude  clash  o' 
aipple-sass.  Potawtoes.  Thank  ye.  Noo,  some  o'  the  smashed. 
Tappy,  the  porter.     What  guse  ! ! ! 

Tickler,  Cut  the  apron  off  the  bishop,  North ;  but  you  must  have 
a  longer  spoon  to  get  into  the  interior. 

Ambrose.  Here  is  a  punch  ladle,  sir. 

Shepherd,  Gie  him  the  great  big  silver  soup  ane.     Sic  sage  ! 

Tickler.  Why,  that  is  liker  the  leg  of  a  sheep  than  of  a  goose. 

Shepherd.  Awmrose,  my  man,  dinna  forget  the  mom  to  let  us  hae 
the  giblets.  Pippin,  the  moostard.  Mr.  North,  as  naebody  seems 
to  be  axin  for't,  gie  me  the  bishop's  apron,  it  seems  sappy.  What 
are  ye  gaun  to  eat  yoursell,  sir !  Dinna  mind  helpin'  me,  but  at- 
tend to  your  nain  sooper. 

North.  James,  does  not  the  side  of  the  breast  which  I  have  now 
been  hewing,  remind  you  o'  Salisbury  Craigs  1 

Shepherd.  Ws  verra  precipitous.  The  skeleton  maun  be  sent  to 
the  College  Museum,  to  staun  at  the  fit  o'  the  elephant,  the  rhinooe- 
rus,  and  the  cammyleopardawlis ;  and  that  it  mayna  be  spiled  by 
jnskilful  workmanship,  I  vote  we  finish  him  cauJd  the  mom  a£>re 
we  yoke  to  the  giblet-pie.     Carried  nem.  con. 

Tickler,  Goose  always  gives  me  a  pain  in  my  stomach.  But  to 
purchase  pleasure  at  a  certain  degree  of  pain,  is  true  philosophy. 
Besides,  in  pleasure,  I  belong  to  the  sect  Epicurean ;  and  in  p^n, 
am  a  budge  doctor  of  the  Stoic  Fur  ;  therefore  I  shall  eat  on.  So, 
my  dear  North,  another  plateful.     James,  a  calker ! 

Shepherd,  What's  your  wull? 


Digitized  by 


Google 


Oy8TI<:R8   AND  OYBTEB  SHELLS.  421 

Tickler.  Oh !  nothing  at  all.  Ambrose,  the  Glenlivet  to  Mr. 
North.     Mr.  Hogg,  I  believe  never  takes  it  during  supper. 

{The  Shbphbrd  tips  Ambrose  the  wink,  and  the  gurgle  goes 

round  the  table.) 
(Silence,  with  slight  interruptions,  and  no  conversation  for  about 
three  quarters  of  an  hour.)  Nathan  Gurnet. 

Shepherd.  I  had  nae  previous  idea  that  steaks  eat  sae  capital  afler 
gnse.     Some  sawmon. 

North*  Stop,  James.  Let  all  be  removed,  except  the  fish — to 
wit,  the  salmon,  the  rizards,  the  spaldrins,  the  herring,  and  the  oys- 
ters. 

Shepherd,  And  bring  some  mair  fresh  anes.  Mr.  Awmrose,  70U 
maun  mak  a  deal  o'  siller  by  sellin'  your  eister-shells  for  mannur  to 
the  farmers  a'  roun*  about  Embro'  f  They're  as  gude's  lime — in- 
deed I'm  thinkin'  they  are  lime — a  sort  o'  sea-lime,  growin'  ou 
rooks  by  the  shore,  and  a  coatin'  at  the  same  time  to  leevin*  and 
edible  creturs.     Oh  !  the  wonnerfu'  warks  o'  Nature ! 

North.  Then  wheeling  the  circular  to  the  fire,  let  us  have  a  part- 
ing jug  or  two. 

Shepherd.  Each? 

Enter  Mr.  Ambrose  wiih  Lord  Eldon. 

North.  Na!  here's  his  Lorship  full  to  the  brim.  He  holds  exactly 
one  gallon,  Imperial  Measure;  and  that  quantity,  according  to  Mrs. 
Ambrose's  recipe,  cannot  hurt  us 

Shepherd,  God  bless  the  face  o'  him  ! 

Tickler.  Pray,  James,  is  it  a  true  bill  that  you  have  had  the 
hydrophobia  1 

Shepherd,  Owere  true — but  Til  gie  you  a  description  o't  at  our 
next.  Meanwhile,  let's  ca'  in  that  puir  cretur  Gurney,  and  gie  him 
a  drap  o'  drink.     Nawthan  !  Nawthan  !  Nawthan  ! 

(jhimey.  (In  a  shrill  voice  from  the  interior  of  the  Ear  of 
Dionysius.)  Here-^here — here. 

Shepherd.  What'n  a  vice !  Like  a  young  ratton  squaakin  ahint 
the  lath  and  plaister. 

North.  No  rations  here,  James.     Mr.  Gurney  is  true  as  steel. 

Shepherd.  Reserve  that  short  simile  for  yoursell,  sir.  O,  sir, 
but  you're  elastic  as  a  drawn  Damascus  swurd.  Lean  a'  your 
wecht  on't,  wi'  the  pint  on  the  grun,  but  fear  na,  while  it  bends,  that 
it  will  break ;  for  back  again  frae  the  semicircle  springs  it  in  a  se- 
cond intil  the  straight  line ;  and  woe  be  to  him  wha  daurs  that  cut- 
and-thrust !  for  it  gangs  through  his  body  like  light  through  a  wun- 
dow,  and  before  the  sinner  kens  he  is  wounded,  you  turn  him  owre 
on  his  back,  sir,  stane-dead ! 

(Mr.  Gurney  joir^s  the  party,  and  the  curtain  of  course  falls.) 


Digitized  by 


Google 


1 


422 


N00TB8   AHBB06IANJ 


NO.  XLVnL— APRIL,  1830. 

SCENE — The  Saloon^  illuminated  by  ike  grand  Oas  Orrery,  Tiin 
— First  of  April— Six  o'clock.  Prxsbnt — Nokth,  the  Enoush 
Opium-Eater,  the  Shepherd,  Tickler,  in  Court  Dresses, — The 
three  celebrated  young  Scottish  Lsakders,  with  their  horns  in  the 
hanging  gallery.     Air,  "  £rose  and  Brochan  and  a'." 

Tickler. 


Enolibh  Opium-Eatsr. 

Shepherd,  An'  that's  an  Orrery!  The  infinitude  o'  the  starry 
heavens  reduced  sae  as  to  suit  the  oeilin'  o'  the  saloon.  Whare's 
Virgo  ? 

Tckler,  Yonder  she  is,  James — smiling  in  the  shade  of 

Shepherd,  I  see  her — just  aboon  the  cocky-leeky.  Weel,  sic  an- 
Ither  contrivance  !  Some  o'  the  stars  and  planets — moons  and  suns 
lichter  than  ithers,  I  jalouse,  by  lettin'  in  upon  them  a  greater  power 
o'  coal-gas ;  and  ithers  again,  just  by  moderatin'  the  pipe-conduc- 
tors, faint  and  far  awa'  in  the  system,  sae  that  ye  scarcely  ken 
whether  they  are  lichted  wi'  the  gawzeous  vapor  ava',  or  only  a  sort 
o'  fine,  tender,  delicate,  porcelain,  radiant  in  its  ain  transparent  na* 
ture,  and  though  thin,  yet  stronger  than  the  storms. 

North,  The  first  astronomers  were  shepherds 

Shepherd,  Aye,  Chaldean  shepherds  like  my  sell — but  no  a  mother's 
son  o*  them  could  hae  written  Uie  Manuscripp.     Ha,  ha,  ha ! 


Digitized  by 


Google 


BUBNS.  423 

Tickler,  What  a  misty  evening ! 

Shepherd.  Nae  wonder — ^wi'  thirteen  soups  a^  steamin'  up  to  the 
skies!  O!  but  the  Orrery  is  sublime  the  noo,  in  its  shroud. 
Naethin  like  hotch-potch  for  gien  a  dim  grandeur  to  the  stars.  See, 
yonder  Venus — peerless  planet — shinin*  like  the  face  o'  a  viigin 
bride  through  her  white  nuptial  veil !  He's  a  grim  chiel,  yon  Sa- 
turn. Nae  wonder  he  devourit  his  weans — he  has  the  coontenance 
o'  a  cannibal.  Thank  you,  Mr.  Awmrose,  for  opening  the  door — for 
this  current  o'  air  has  swept  awa'  the  mists  from  heaven,  and  gien  us 
back  the  beauty  o*  the  celestial  spheres. 

North,  {aside  to  the  £nolish  Opium-Eater.)  You  hear,  Mr.  De 
Quincey,  how  he  begins  to  blaze  even  before  broth. 

Opium-Eater^  {aside  to  North.)  I  have  always  placed  Mr.  Hogg, 
in  genius^  far  above  Bums.  He  is  indeed  ^*  of  imagination  all  com- 
pact.'* Bums  had  strong  sense — and  strong  sinews — and  brandished 
a  pen  pretty  much  afler  the  same  fashion  as  he  brandished  a  flail. 
You  never  lose  sight  of  the  thresher 

Shepherd.  Dinna  abuse  Burns,  Mr.  De  Quinshy.  Neither  you 
nor  ony  ither  Englishman  can  thoroughly  understaun  three  sentences 
o'  his  poems 

Opium-Eater^  {with  much  animation.)  I  have  for  some  years  past 
longed  for  an  opportunity  to  tear  into  pieces  that  gross  national  de- 
lusion, bora  of  prejudice,  ignorance,  and  bigotry,  in  which,  from 
highest  to  lowest,  all  literary  classes  of  Scotchmen  are  as  it  were  in- 
carnated— to  wit,  a  belief  strong  as  superstition,  that  all  their  various 
dialects  must  be  as  unintelligible,  as  1  grant  that  most  of  them  are 
uncouth  and  barbarous,  to  English  ears — even  to  those  of  the  most 
acccomplished  and  consummate  scholars.  Whereas,  to  a  Danish, 
Norwegian,  Swedish,  Saxon,  German,  French,  Italian,  Spanish,  and 
let  me  add,  Latin  and  Greek  scholar,  there  is  not  even  a  monosylla- 
ble that 

Shepherd.  What's  a  gotopen  o'  glaur  f 

Opium-Eater.  Mr.  Hogg — Sir,  I  will  not  be  interrapted  — 

Shepherd.  You  cannot  tell,     it's  just  tua  neif-fu^s  o'  clarts. 

North.  James — James — James ! 

Shepherd.  Kit — Kit — Kit.  But  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  De  Quinshy 
— afore  dinner  I'm  aye  unco  snappish.  I  admit  you're  a  great  gram- 
marian. But  kennin'  something  o'  a  language  by  bringin'  to  bear 
upon't  a'  the  united  efforts  o'  knowledge  and  understaunin' — baith 
first-rate — is  ae  thing,  and  feel  in'  every  breath  and  every  shadow  that 
keeps  playin'  owre  a'  its  syllables,  as  if  by  a  natural  and  born  in- 
stinct, is  anither — the  first  you  may  aiblins  hae — naebody  likelier — 
but  to  the  second  nae  man  may  pretend  that  hasna  had  the  happi- 
ness and  the  honor  o'  havin'  been  born  and  bred  in  bonny  Scotland. 
What  can  ye  ken  o'  Kilmeny  ? 


Digitized  by 


Google 


124  NOOTES  AMBBOSIASM. 

Opium-Eatery  {smiling  graciously,)  Tis  a  ballad  breathing  the 
sweetest,  simplest,  wildest  spirit  of  Scotch  traditionary  song — music, 
as  some  antique  instrument  long-lost,  but  found  at  last  in  the  Forest 
among  the  decayed  roots  of  trees,  and  touched,  indeed,  as  by  an  in» 
stinct,  by  the  only  man  who  could  reawaken  its  sleepin*  chords — the 
Ettrick  Shepherd. 

Shepherd,  Na — if  you  say  that  sincerely — and  I  never  saw  a  broo 
smother  wi'  truth  than  your  ain — I  maun  qualify  my  former  apoph- 
thegm, and  alloo  you  to  be  an  exception  frae  the  general  rule.  I  wish, 
sir,  you  wou'd  write  a  Glossary  o'  the  Scottish  Language.  I  ken 
naebody  fitter. 

North,  Our  distinguished  guest  is  aware  that  this  is  "  All  Fools' 
Day,"  and  must,  on  that  score,  pardon  these  court-dresses.  We 
consider  them,  my  dear  sir,  appropriate  to  this  Anniversary. 

Shepherd.  Mine  wasna  originally  a  coort-dress.  It's  the  uniform 
o'  the  Border  Club.  But  nane  o'  the  ither  members  wou^d  wear 
them,  except  me  and  the  late  Dyuk  o'  Buccleugh.  So  when  the  King 
came  to  Scotland,  and  expeckit  to  be  introduced  to  me  at  Holyrood- 
House,  1  got  the  tiler  at  Yarrow-Ford  to  cut  it  doon  afler  a  patron 
frae  Embro'  — 

Opium-JSater,  Green  and  gold — to  my  eyes  the  most  beautiful  of 
colors — the  one  characteristic  of  earth,  the  other  of  heaven — and, 
therefore,  the  two  united,  emblematic  of  genius. 

Shepherd,  Oh!  Mr.  De  Quinshy — sir,  but  you're  a  pleasant  cretur 
— and  were  I  ask't  to  gie  a  notion  o'  your  mainners  to  them  that 
had  never  seen  you,  I  shou'd  just  use  twa  words,  Urbanity  and 
Amenity — meanin',  by  the  first,  that  safl  bricht  polish  that  a  man 
gets  by  leevin'  amang  gentlemen  scholars  in  towns  and  cities,  bur- 
nished on  the  solid  metal  o'  a  happy  natur*  hardened  by  the  rural 
atmosphere  o'  the  pure  kintra  air,  in  which  I  ken  you  hae  ever  de- 
lighted ;  and,  by  the  ither,  a  peculiar  sweetness,  amaist  like  that  o'  a 
woman,  yet  sae  far  frae  bein'  feminine,  as  masculine  as  that  o'  Allao 
Ramsay's  ain  Gentle  Shepherd — and  breathin'o'  a  harmonious  union 
between  the  heart,  the  intelleck,  and  the  imagination,  a'  the  three 
keepin'  their  ain  places,  and  thus  makin'  the  vice,  speech,  gesture, 
and  motion  o'  a  man  as  composed  as  a  figur'  on  a  pictur'  by  some 
painter  that  was  a  master  in  his  art,  and  produced  his  effects  easily 
^-and  ane  kens  na  hoo— by  his  lichts  and  shadows.  Mr.  North,  am 
na  I  richt  in  the  thocht,  if  no  in  the  expression  ? 

North.  You  have  always  known  my  sentiments,  James 

Shepherd.  I'm  thinkin'  we  had  better  lay  aside  our  swurds.  They're 
kittle  dealin',  when  a  body's  stannin'  or  walkin' ;  but  the  very  dee- 
vil's  in  them,  when  ane  claps  his  doup  on  a  chair ;  for  here's  the 
hilt  o'  mine  interferin'  wi'  my  ladle-hand. 

Tickler.  Why,  James,  you  have  buckled  it  on  the  wrong  side. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


YERBaOELLI.  425 

Shepherd.  What?     Is  the  richt  the  wrangl 

North.  Let  us  all  untaokle.  Mr.  Ambrose,  hang  up  eaoh  man's 
sword  on  his  own  hat-peg.     There. 

Shepherd,  O,  Mr.  De  Quinshy !  but  you  luk  weel  in  a  single- 
breested  snuff-olive,  wi'  cut-steel  buttons,  figured  waistcoat,  and  — 

Opium-Eater,  There  is  a  beautiful  propriety,  Mr.  Hogg,  in  a 
oourt-dress,  distinguished  as  it  is,  both  by  material  and  form,  from 
the  apparel  suitable  to  the  highest  occasions  immediately  below  the 
presence  of  royalty,  just  as  diat  other  apparel  is  distinguished  from 
the  costume  worn  on  the  less  ceremonious — 

Shepherd.  Eh! 

Opium-Eater.  Occasions  of  civilized  life, — and  that  again  in  due 
degree  from  that  sanctioned  by  custom,  in  what  I  may  call,  to  use 
the  language  of  Shakspeare,  and  others  of  our  elder  dramatists,  the 
**  worky-day"  world, — ^whether  it  be  in  those  professions  peculiar,  or 
nearly  so,  to  towns  and  cities,  or  belonging  more  appropriately, — 
though  the  distinction,  perhaps,  is  popular  rather  than  philosophical 
— to  rural  districts  on  either  side  of  vour  beautiful  river  the  Tweed. 

Shepherd.  Oh,  sir !  but  I'm  unco  rond  o'  the  English  accent  It*8 
like  an  instrument  wi'  a'  the  strings  o'  silver, — and  though  I  canna 
help  thinkin*  that  you  speak  rather  a  wee  owre  slow,  yet  there's  sic 
music  in  your  vice,  that  I'm  just  perfectly  enchanted  wi'  the  soun' 
while  a  sense  o'  truth  prevents  me  frae  sayin'  that  I  aye  a'thegither 
comprehend  the  meaning, — for  that's  aye,  written  or  oral  alike,  sae 
desperate  metapheesical.  But  what  soup  will  you  tak,  sir  %  Lict  me 
recommend  the  hotch-potch. 

Opium^Eater.  I  prefer  vermicelli. 

Shepherd,  What?  Worms!  They  gar  me  scunner,  the  verra 
luk  o'  them.  Sae,  you're  a  worm-eater,  sir,  as  weel's  an  Opium- 
eater? 

Opium-Eater.  Mr.  Wordsworth,  sir,  I  think  it  is,  who  says,  speak- 
ing of  the  human  being  under  the  thraldom  of  the  senses, — 

**  He  is  a  slave,  the  meanest  we  can  meet" 

Shepherd.  I  beseech  ye,  my  dear  sir,  no  to  be  angry  sae  sune  on 
in  the  afternoon.  There's  your  worms — and  I  wus  you  muckle  gude 
o'  them — only  compare  them — thank  you,  Mr.  Tickler — wi*  this  Ik>w1- 
deep  trencher  o'  hotch-potch — an  emblem  of  the  haill  vegetable  and 
animal  creation. 

Tickler.  Why,  James,  though  now  invisible  to  the  naked  eye, 
boiled  down  as  they  are  in  baser  matter,  that  tureen  on  which  your 
face  has  for  some  minutes  been  fixed  as  gloatingly  as  that  of  a  Satyr 
on  a  sleeping  Wood-nymph,  or  of  Pan  himself  on  Matron  Cybele, 
contains,  as  every  naturalist  knows,  some  scores  of  snails,  a  gowpen- 


Digitized  by 


Google 


1 


426  NOCTES   AMBB061LSJE. 

full  of  gnats,  countless  caterpillars,  of  our  smaller  British  insects 
numbers  without  number  numberless  as  the  sea-shore  sands— 

Shepherd,  No  at  this  time  o'  the  year,  you  gowk.  You're  think- 
ing o'  simmer  colley  floor — 

Tickler,  But  their  larvee,  James — 

Shepherd.  Confound  their  larYffi !  Awmrose!  the  pepper.  {Doihes 
in  the  pepper  alofig  with  the  silver  top  of  the  cruet,)  Pity  me! 
whare's  the  cruet  ?  It  has  sunk  doon  intill  the  hotch-potch,  like  a 
mailed  horse  and  his  rider  intill  a  swamp.  I  maun  tak  tent  no  to 
swallow  the  bog-trotter.  What  the  deevil,  Awmrose,  you've  gien 
me  the  Cay  wane ! ! 

Ambrose,  (tremens,)  My  dear  sir,  it  was  Tappytourie. 

Shepherd,  {to  Tappy,)  You  wee  sinner,  did  ye  tak  me  for  Moshy 
Shawbert  ? 

Opium-Eater,  I  have  not  seen  it  recorded,  Mr.  Hc^g,  in  any  of  the 
Public  Journals,  at  least  it  was  not  so  in  the  Standard, — in  fact  the 
only  newspaper  I  now  read,  and  an  admirable  evening  paper  it  is, 
unceasingly  conducted  with  consummate  ability, — that  that  French 
charlatan  had  hitherto  essayed  Cayenne  pepper ;  and  indeed  such  an 
exhibition  would  be  preposterous,  seeing  that  the  lesser  is  contained 
within  the  greater,  and  consequently  all  the  hot  varieties  of  that  plant 
— all  the  possibilities  of  the  pepper-pod — are  included  within  Phoe 
phorus  and  Prussic  acid.     Meanly  as  1  think  of  the  logic — 

Shepherd,  O  ma  mouth !  ma  mouth !  Logic  indeed !  I  didna 
think  there  had  been  sic  a  power  o*  pepper  about  a'  the  premises. 

Opium-Eater,  The  only  conclusion  that  can  be  legitimately 
drawn — 

Shepherd,  Whist  wi'  your  College  davers — and,  AwmTose,  gie 
me  a  caulker  o*  Glenlivet  to  cool  the  roof  o'  my  pallet  My  tongue's 
like  red-het  aim — and  blisters  my  verra  lips.  Na !  it'll  melt  the 
siller  spoon — 

North,  I  pledge  you,  my  dear  James 

Opium-Eater.  Vermicelli  soup,  originally  Italian,  has  been  so  long 
naturalized  in  this  island,  that  it  may  now  almost  be  said,  by  those 
not  ambitious  of  extremest  accuracy  of  thought  and  expression,  to 
be  indigenous  in  Britain — and  as  it  sips  somewhat  insipid,  may  I  use 
the  freedom,  Mr.  Tickler, — scarcely  pardonable,  perhaps,  from  our 
short  acquaintance — to  request  you  to  join  me  in  a  glass  of  the  same 
truly  Scottish  liquor  ? 

Tickler.  Most  happy  indeed  to  cultivate  the  friendship  of  Mr.  De 
Quincey.  {The  four  turn  up  their  UiUe  fingers.) 

Shepherd.  Mirawculous !  My  tongue's  a'  at  amce  as  cauld  's  the 
rim  o'  a  cart-wheel  on  a  winter's  nicht !  My  pallet  cool  as  the  lift 
o'  a  spring-momin' !  And  the  inside  o'  roa  mouth  just  like  a  wee 
mountain  well  afore  sunrise,  when  the  bit  moorland  birdies  are  hop- 


Digitized  by 


Google 


BOOrnSH  PAINTERB.  427 

pin'  on  its  margin,  about  to  wat  their  whustles  in  the  blessed  bever- 
age, afler  their  love-drearos  amang  the  dewy  heather ! 

Opium-Eater,  I  would  earnestly  recommend  it  to  you,  Mr.  Hogg, 
to  abstain 

Shepherd,  Thank  you,  sir,  for  your  timeous  wamin' — for,  without 
think  in'  what  I  was  about,  I  was  just  on  the  verra  eve  o'  fa'in'  to 
again  till  the  self-same  fiery  trencher.  It's  no  every  body  that  has 
your  philosophical  composure.  But  it  sits  weel  on  you,  sir — and  I 
like  baith  to  look  and  listen  to  you ;  for,  in  spite  o'  your  classical 
learning,  and  a'  your  outlandish  logic,  you're  at  a'  times — and  I'm 
nae  bad  judge — shepherd  as  I  am — intus  et  in  cute — that  is,  tooth  and 
nail — naething  else  but  a  perfeck  gentleman.  But  oh  !  you're  a  lazy 
cretur,  man,  or  you  would  hae  putten  out  a  dizzen  volumes  syne  the 
Confessions. 

Opium- Eater.  I  am  at  present,  my  dear  friend,— allow  me  to  call 
myself  so, — in  treaty  with  Mr.  Blackwood  for  a  novel 

Shepherd,  In  ae  vollumm — in  ae  vollumm,  1  hope — and  that'll 
tie  you  doon  to  where  your  strength  lies,  condensation  at  aince 
vigorous  and  exquisite — like  a  man  succinct  for  hap-step-and-loup 
on  the  greensward^— each  spang  langer  than  anither — till  he  clears 
a  peat  hand-barrow  at  the  end  like  a  catastrophe.  Hae  1  eaten  an- 
ither dish  o'  hotch-potch,  think  ye,  sirs,  without  bein  aware  o't  ? 

Tickler.  No,  James — North  changed  the  fare  upon  you,  and  you 
have  devoured,  in  a  fit  of  absence,  about  half  a  bushel  of  peas. 

Shepherd,  I'm  glad  it  was  na  carrots — for  they  aye  gie  me  a  sair 
belly.  But  hae  ye  been  at  the  Exhibition  o'  Pictures  by  leevin' 
artists  at  the  Scottish  Academy,  Mr.  North,  and  what  think  ye  o't  1 

North,  1  look  in  occasionally,  James,  of  a  morning,  before  the 
bustle  begins,  for  a  crowd  is  not  for  a  crutch. 

Shepherd.  But  ma  faith,  a  crutch  is  for  a  crood,  as  is  weel  kent 
o'  yours,  by  a*  the  blockheads  in  Britain.     Is't  gude  the  year? 

North,  Good,  bad,  and  indifieront,  like  all  other  mortal  exhibi- 
tions. In  landscape,  we  sorely  miss  Mr.  Thomson  of  Dudding- 
stone. 

Shepherd,  What  can  be  the  matter  wi'  the  minister  ?  He's  no 
deed? 

North.  Grod  forbid  !  But  Williams  is  gone  * — dear  delightful 
Williams — with  his  atrial  distances  into  which  the  imagination 
sailed  as  on  wings,  like  a  dove  gliding  through  sunshine  into  gentle 
gloom — with  his  shady  foregrounds,  where  Love  and  Leisure  re- 
posed— and  his  middle  regions,  with  towering  cities  grove-embow- 
ered, solemn  with  the  spirit  of  the  olden  time^ — and  all,  all  embalm- 
ed in  the  beautv  of  those  deep  Grecian  skies ! 

Shepherd,  He's  deed.     What  matters  it!     In  his  virtues  he  was 

*  This  WM  Hngh,  commonly  called  **  Qreoiaa"  Williams,  from  hi«  tubjocts.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


428  KOOTBS  AMBB06IANJB. 

happy,  and  in  his  genius  he  is  immortal.  Hoots,  man  !  If  tears 
are  to  drap  for  ilka  freen  "  who  is  not,"  our  een  wud  be  seldom  dry. 
— ^Tak  some  mair  turtle. 

North.  Mr.  Thomson  of  Duddingstone  is  now  our  greatest  land- 
scape painter.  In  what  sullen  skies  he  sometimes  shrouds  the  soli- 
tary moors ! 

Shepherd,  And  wi'  what  blinks  o'  beauty  he  often  brings  oat 
frae  beneath  the  clouds  the  spire  o'  some  pastoral  parish  kirk,  till 
you  feel  it  is  the  Sabbath  ! 

North,  Time  and  decay  crumbling  his  castles  seem  to  be  warring 
against  the  very  living  rock — and  we  feel  their  endurance  in  their 
desolation. 

Shepherd,  I  never  look  at  his  roarin'  rivers,  wi'  a'  their  precipices, 
without  thinkin'  some  hoo  or  irtier,  o'  Sir  William  Wallace  !  They 
seem  to  belang  to  an  unconquerable  country. 

North,  Yes,  James  !  he  is  a  patriotic  painter.  Moor,  mountain 
and  glen^-castle,  hall,  and  hut — all  breathe  sternly  or  sweetly  o' 
auld  Scotland.  So  do  his  seas  and  his  friths — roll,  roar,  blacken 
and  whiten  with  Caledonia — from  the  Mull  of  Galloway  to  Cape 
Wrath.  Or  when  summer  stillness  is  upon  them,  are  not  all  the 
soft  shadowy  pastoral  hills  Scottish,  that  in  their  still  deep  transpa- 
rency, invert  their  summits  in  the  transBguring  magic  of  the  (ar- 
sleeping  main  ? 

Tickler,  William  Simpson,  now  gone  to  live  in  Loudon,  is  in 
genius  no  whit  inferior  to  Mr.  Thomson,  and  superior  in  mastery 
over  the  execution  of  the  Art. 

North,  A  first- rater.  Ewbank's  moonlights  this  season  are  meri 
torious ;  but  'tis  difficult  to  paint  Luna,  though  she  is  a  still-sitter 
in  the  sky.  Be  she  veiled  nun — white-robed  vestal — ^blue-cinctured 
huntress — full-orbed  in  Christian  meekness — or,  bright  misbeliever ! 
brow-rayed  with  the  Turkish  crescent — still  meetest  is  she,  spiritual 
creature,  ft>r  the  Poet's  love ! 

Shepherd,  They  tell  me  that  a  lad  o'  the  name  o'  Fleming  frae 
the  west  kintra  has  shown  some  bonny  landscapes. 

North,  His  pictures  are  rather  deficient  in  depth,  James — ^his 
scenes  are  scarcely  sufficiently  like  portions  of  the  solid  globe — but 
he  has  a  sense  of  beauty — and  with  that  a  painter  may  do  almost 
any  thing — without  it,  nothing.  For  of  the  painter  as  of  the  poet^ 
we  may  employ  the  exquisite  image  of  Wordsworth,  that  beauty 

**  Pitches  her  tents  before  him.'*  • 

For  exan\ple,  there  is  Gibb,  who  can  make  a  small  sweet  pastoral 
world  out  of  a  bank  and  a  brae,  a  pond  and  a  couple  of  cows,  with 
a  simple  lassie  sitting  in  her  plaid  upon  the  stump  of  an  old  tree. 
Or,  if^a  morning  rainbow  spans  the  moor,  he  shows  you  brother  and 


Digitized  by 


Google 


SOOmSH  ABTI8T8.  429 

sister — it  may  be^— or  perhaps  childish  lovers — facing  the  showery 
wind — in  the  folds  of  the  same  plaid — straining  merrily,  with  their 
colley  before  them,  towards  the  hut  whose  smoke  is  shivered  as 
soon  as  it  reaches*  the  tops  of  the  sheltering  grove.  Gibb  is  full  of 
feeling  and  genius. 

Shepherd.  But  is  na  his  oolorin'  owre  blue  ? 

North,  No — James.  Show  me  any  thing  bluer  than  the  sky — at 
its  bluest — ^not  even  her  eye 

Shepherd,  What!  Mrs.  Gentle's?  Her  een  aye  seemed  to  me  to 
be  greenish. 

North.  Hush — blasphemer !  Their  zones  are  like  the  skylight  of 
the  longest  night  in  the  year — when  all  the  earth  lies  half  asleep  and 
half  awake  in  the  beauty  of  happy  dreams. 

Shepherd.  Hech!  hech ! 

•*  O  love !  love  I  love  I 

Love's  like  a  dizzbess ; 
It  wunoa  let  a  puir  bodie 

Gang  about  ms  tusdness  P* 

Opium^Eater.  I  have  often  admired  the  prodigious  power  of  per- 
spective displayed  in  the  large  landscapes  of  Nasmyth.*  He  gives 
you  at  one  coup  d* ceil  a  metropolitan  city — with  its  river,  bridges, 
towers,  and  temples — engirdled  with  groves,  and  far-retiring  all 
around  the  garden-fields,  tree-dropped,  or  sylvan-shaded,  of  merry 
England.     I  allude  now  to  a  noble  picture  of  London. 

North.  And  all  his  family  are  geniuses  like  himself.  In  the  mi- 
nutiae of  nature,  Peter  is  perfect — it  would  not  be  easy  to  say  which 
of  his  unmarried  daughters  excels  her  sisters  in  truth  of  touch — 
though  I  believe  the  best  judges  are  disposed  to  give  Mrs.  Terry  the 
palm — who  now  —  since  the  death  of  her  lamented  husband — 
teaches  painting  in  London  with  eminent  success. 

Tickler.  Colvin  Smith  has  caught  Jeffrey's  countenance  at  last — 
and  a  fine  countenance  it  is — alive  with  intellect — armed  at  all 
points — acute  without  a  quibble-— clothed  all  over  with  cloudless 
perspicacity — and  eloquent  on  the  silent  canvas,  as  if  all  the  air 
within  the  frame  were  murmuring  with  winged  words.f 

*  AUzMider  Nacmrth  wm  not  onlr  an  artist  of  high  merit,  (he  wax  greatly  rained,  profee- 
•ionallj  and  penonailT,  by  Scott,)  out  hii  children  alao  were  greatly  gifted.  One  of  hit 
danghten.  who  married  Terry  the  actor,  supported  her  family  by  the  pencil  after  her  hnabar.d's 
death.  Hit  son  Peter,  who  settled  in  London j  (and  indeed  was  there  called  the  EnffUsh  Heb- 
bina,)  died  in  1631.  The  old  man  survived  him  nine  years.  From  what  I  saw  of  nis  works, 
(chiefly  in  the  Edinburgh  Exhibition,  at  Abbotsford,  at  Lord  Jeffrey's,  and  at  the  house  of 
Lord  Mackenxie,  my  kinsman,)  I  am  inclined  to  rank  the  elder  Nasmyth  among  the  very  best 
•f  the  Scottish  landscape  painters— certainly  over  Thompson,  of  Duddingstone,  whoM  works 


always  struck  me,  as  did  those  of  Sir  George  Beaumont  in  England,  as  being  only  theperfeo- 
'ion  of  amaUur  painting.— M. 
t  No  artist  could  paint  Jeffrey.    His  expression  was  so  variable,  that  in  different  moods  he 


tion  of  amaUur  painting.— M. 

t  No  artist  could  paint  Jeffrey.    Kis  exprc  

■•emed  a  different  man.    At  the  Bar.  in  f'arliament,  on  the  Bench,  or  in  the  romantic  scenery 


9i  his  own  Craig-Crook,  there  was  a  difiinrent  man— and  yet  there  were  not  half-a-doten  Jeffreys, 
bnt  one  !  To  hear  him  talk,  in  that  sharp  shrill  voice,  whose  lowest  whisper  floated  throngh 
tb«  air,  and  was  heard  by  all,  was  indeed  a  pleasure  and  delight.    Above  all,  he  had  uc 


Digitized  by 


Google 


430  Hoaras  ambrosian-«. 

North.  Not  murmuring — his  voice  tinkles  like  a  silver  bel 
Shepherd,  But  wha  can  tell  that  frae  the  canvas! 
North.  James,  on  looking  at  a  portrait,  you  carry  along  with  you 
all  the  characteristic  individualities  of  the  original — ^his  voice — ^his 
gesture — ^his  action— his  motion — his  manner — and  thus  the  likeness 
is  made  up  "  of  what  you  half^reate  and  half-perceive," — else  dead 
— thus  only  spiritualized  into  perfect  similitude. 
Shepherd,  Mr.  De  Quinshy  should  hae  said  that. 
OpiumrEater.  Pardon   me,  Mr.  Hogg,  I  could  not  have  said  it 
nearly  so  well— and  m  this  case,  I  doubt  not,  most  truly — as  Mr. 
North. 

North.  No  one  feature,  perhaps,  of  Mr.  Jeflfrey's  face  is  very  fine, 
except  indeed  his  mouth,  which  is  the  firmest,  and,  at  the  same  time 
the  mildest — the  most  resolute,  and  yet,  at  the  same  time,  the  sweet- 
est, I  ever  saw — inferior  in  such  mingled  expression  only  to  Canning's, 
which  was  perfect  ;*  hut  look  on  them  all  together,  and  they  all  act 
together  in  irresistible  union ;  forehead,  eyes,  cheeks,  mouth,  and 
chin,  all  declaring,  as  Bums  said  of  Matthew  Henderson,  that 
"  Francis  is  a  bright  man,"— ever  in  full  command  of  all  his  great 
and  various  talents,  with  just  enough  of  genius  to  preserve  them  all 
in  due  order  and  subordination — ^for,  with  either  more  or  less  genius, 
we  may  not  believe  that  his  endowments  could  have  been  so  finely 
yet  so  firmly  balanced,  so  powerfiil  both  in  speculative  and  practical 
skill,  making  him  at  once,  perhaps,  on  the  whole,  the  most  philoso- 
phic critic  of  his  age,  and,  beyond  all  comparison,  the  most  eloquent 
orator  of  his  country. 

Opium-Eater.  To  much  of  that  eulogium,  Mr.  North,  great  as  my 
admiration  is  of  Mr.  Jeffrey's  abilities,  I  must  demur. 
Shepherd.  And  me  too. 
Tickler.  And  I  also. 

North,  Well,  gentlemen,  demur  away ;  but  such  for  many  years 
has  been  my  opinion,  and  'tis  the  opinion  of  all  Scotland. 

Opium-Eater.  Since  you  speak  of  Mr.  Jeflfrey,  and  of  his  achieve- 
ments in  law,  literature,  and  philosophy,  in  Scotland,  and  without 
meaning  to  include  the  southern  intellectual  Empire  of  Britain,  why, 
then,  with  one  exception,  (bowing  to  Mr.  North^)  I  do  most  cordially 

gentlest  conrt^  towai;ds  women,  irreupective  of  their  age.  And,  to  oroim  all,  he  wm  fond. 
really  and  truly,  of  children.  (I  never  Vne  w  a  bad  man  who  waa.  I  am,  and  t\»e  inference  ia 
nevitable  !)  It  wa.  at  home,  tliat  Jeffrey  wa.  erer  seen  to  full  advan^ge  :-but  I  am  ne^ 
a  wln^^f  LeUe°if.'^-M;^^'  "*«*"*  *"•*  *  "'**'•  "^****^*  ^^^  '"^  "  iUcolltstiona  of  the  Life  of 
♦  Wilson,   who  was 


never  could  discoW  anything  he7onTl\«'d£r;  Vi.^'It  'hU  tJSe"  he  w«  ST^^ISk^t 
appearance  of  exhansnon  anl  fatigue,  and  a  mouth  whi5    did  not  ex^a.  firJ^new^^lM. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


WOLFE   AKD   DALH0U6IE.  431 

agree  with  you,  though  of  this  law  I  know  nothing,  and  nothing  of 
his  oral  eloquence,  but  judge  of  him  solely  from  the  Edinburgh 
Review,  which,  {botoing  again  to  Mr,  Norths)  with  the  same  con- 
spicuous exception,  maugre  all  its  manifold  and  miserable  mistakes, 
unquestionably  stands,  or  did  stand — for  I  have  not  seen  a  number 
of  it  since  the  April  number  of  1826 — at  the  head  of  the  Periodical 
Literature  of  the  Age ;  and  that  the  Periodical  Literature  of  the  Age 
is  infinitely  superior  to  all  its  other  philosophical  criticism — for  ex- 
ample the  charlatanrie  of  the  Scblegels,  et  id  genus  omne^  is  as  certain 
— Mr.  Hogg,  pardon  me  for  imitating  your  illustrative  imagery,  or 
attempting  to  imitate  what  all  the  world  allows  to  be  inimitable — 
as  that  the  hotch-potch  which  you  are  now  swallowing,  in  spite  of 
heat  that  seems  breathed  from  the  torrid  zone  — 

Shepherd,  It's  no  hotch-potch — this  platefu's  cocky-leeky. 

Opium-Eater.  As  that  cocky-leeky  which,  though  hot  as  purgatory, 
(the  company  will  pardon  me  for  yielding  to  the  influence  of  the 
genus  loci,)  your  mouth  is,  and  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  has  been, 
vortex-like  engulfing,  transcends,  in  all  that  is  best  in  animal  and 
vegetable  matter— worthy  indeed  of  Scotland's  manly  Shepherd — 
the  soup  maigre,  that,  attenuated  almost  to  invisibility,  drenches  the 
odiously-guttural  gullet  of  some  monkey  Frenchman  of  the  old 
school,  by  the  incomprehensible  interposition  of  Providence  saved 
at  the  era  of  the  Revolution  from  the  guillotine. 

Omnes,  Bravo  !  bravo  !  bravo  ! — Encore — encore — encore ! 

Shepherd,  That's  capital — it's  just  me — gin  ye  were  aye  to  speak 
that  gait,  man,  folk  wou'd  understaun'  you.  Let's  hae  a  caulker 
thegither.  There's  a  gurgle — ^your  health,  sir,  no  forgettin'  the  wife 
and  the  weans.     It's  a  pity  you're  no  a  Scotchman. 

North,  John  Watson's  "  Lord  Dalhousie  "  is  a  noble  picture.* 
But  John's  always  great;  his  works  win  upon  you  the  longer  you 
study  them,  and  that,  after  all,  is  at  once  the  test  and  the  triumph  of 
the  art.  On  some  portraits  you  at  once  exhaust  your  admiration ; 
and  are  then  ashamed  of  yourself  for  having  mistaken  the  vulgar 
pleasure,  so  cheaply  inspired,  of  a  staring  likeness,  for  that  high 
emotion  breathed  from  the  mastery  of  the  painter's  skill,  and  blush 
to  have  doated  on  a  daub. 

Tickler,  Duncan's  "  Braw  Wooer,"  from  Bums's 

*  Thii  is  not  the 'present  Mftrqnis  of  Dalhotisie,  Oorernor-Oenenkl  of  India,  [Jnlj,  18541  but 
his  father.  A  gallant  gentleman.  He  fought  through  the  Feninsalar  War,  and  at  **  bloody 
but  most  bootless  Waterloo."  After  baring  boen  Lieutenant-General  of  Nova  Scotia,  he  was 
made  Gorernor-Oeneral  of  British  North  America,  in  1810.  Fire  years  later  he  foanded  the 
Literary  and  Historical  Society  of  Q,uebeo.  He  subsequently*  (being  a  saring  man,)  planted 
Wolfe's  Plain  with  oats,  whereupon  the  following  epigram  was  written  : 

**  Some  men  love  honor. 
Other  men  lore  groats : 
Here  Wolfe  reaped  laurels. 
Lord  Dalhousie,  oaU."— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


iS2  NOcrrBS  amsbosiaium. 

**  Yestreen  a  braw  wooer  cam  down  the  lang  glen, 

And  sair  wi*  hU  love  he  did  leave  me ; 
I  said  there  was  naething  I  hated  like  men, — 

The  deuce  gang  wi*  him  to  belieye  me," 

Is  a  master-piece.  What  a  fellow,  James!  Not  unlike  yourself  in 
younger  days,  perhaps,  but  without  a  particle  of  the  light  of  genius 
that  ever  ennobles  your  rusticity,  and  makes  the  plaid  on  our  in- 
comparable Shepherd's  shoulders  graceful  as  the  poet^s  mantle.  But 
rather  like  some  son  of  yours,  James,  of  whom  you  had  not  chanced 
to  think  it  worth  your  while  to  take  any  very  particular  notice,  yet 
who,  by  hereditary  talents,  had  made  his  way  in  the  world  up  to 
head-shepherd  on  a  four-thousand  acre-hill-farm — ^his  &ce  glowing 
with  love  and  health  like  a  peony  over  which  a  milk-pail  had  hap- 
pened to  be  upset — bonnet  cocked  as  orousely  on  his  hard  brow  as 
the  comb  upon  the  tappin'  o'  a  chanticleer  when  sidling  up,  with 
dropped  wing,  to  a  favorite  pullet — buckskin  breeches,  such  as  Bums 
used  to  wear  himself,  brown  and  burnished  to  a  most  perilous  pol- 
ish— and  top-boots,  the  images  of  your  own,  my  beloved  boy — on 
which  the  journey  down  the  lang  glen  has  brought  the  summer-dust 
to  blend  with  the  well-greased  blacking — broad  chest,  gorgeously 
apparelled  in  a  flapped  waistcoat,  manifestly  made  for  him  by  his 
great-grandmother,  out  of  the  damask  hangings  of  a  bed  that  once 
must  have  stood  firm  on  a  Ha'  on  four  posts,  though  now  haply  in 
a  hut  but  a  trembling  truckle — strong  ham  shirt,  clean  as  a  lily, 
bleached  in  the  showery  sunshine  on  a  brent  gowany  brae,  nor  un- 
tinged  with  a  faint  scent  of  thyme  that,  in  oaken  drawer,  will  lie 
odorous  for  years  upon  years — and  cravat  with  a  knot  like  a  love- 
posy,  and  two  pointed  depending  stalks,  tied  in  the  gleam  of  a  water- 
pail,  or  haply  m  the  mirror  of  the  pool  in  which  that  Apollo  had  just 
been  floundering  like  a  porpoise,  and  in  which,  when  drought  had 
dried  the  shallows,  he  had  lister'd  many  a  fish  impatient  of  the  sea ; 
there,  James,  he  sits  on  a  bank,  leaning  and  leering,  a  lost  and  love- 
sick man,  yet  not  forgetful  nor  unconscious  of  the  charms  so  prodi- 
gally  lavished  upon  him  both  by  nature  and  art,  the  Braw  Wooeb, 
who  may  not  fail  in  his  suit,  till  blood  be  wersh  as  water,  and  flesh 
indeed  fushionless  as  grass  crowing  in  a  sandy  desert 

Shepherd.  Remem^r,  Mr.  Tickler,  what  a  lee-way  you  hae  to 
mak  up,  on  the  sea  o'  soup,  and  be  na  sa  descriptive,  for  we've  a' 
gotten  to  windward  ;  you  seem  to  haedrapt  anchor,  and  baith  main- 
sail and  foresail  are  flappin'  to  the  extremity  o'  their  sheets. 

Tickler,  And  is  not  she,  indeed,  James,  a  queen-like  quean  t 
What  scorn  and  skaith  in  the  large  full  orbs  of  her  imperial  eyes ! 
How  she  tosses  back  her  head  in  triumph,  till  the  yellow  lustre  of 
her  locks  seems  about  to  escape  from  the  bondage  of  that  riband, 
the  hope-gift  of  another  suitor  who  wooed  her  under  happier  auspices, 


Digitized  by 


Google 


8B0OND   OOUKSK.  483 

among  last  year's  '*  rigs  o'  barley,"  at  winter's  moonless  midnight^ 
beneath  the  barn-balk  where  roosts  the  owl, — by  spring's  dewy  eve 
on  the  dim  primrose  bank,  while  the  lark  sought  his  nest  among  the 
green  braird,  descending  from  his  sunset-song ! 

Shepherd,  C!onfound  me,  if  this  be  no  just  perfectly  intolerable ; 
Mr.  North,  Mr.  De  Quinshy,  Mr.  Tickler,  and  a'  men,  women,  and 
children,  imitatin'  ma  style  o' colloquial  oratory,  till  a'  that's  specifio 
and  original  about  me's  lost  in  universal  plagiarism. 

Tickler.  Why,  James,  your  genius  is  as  contagious — as  infectious 
as  the  plague — ^i^  indeed,  it  be  not  epidemical,  like  a  fever  in  the 
air. 

Shepherd,  You're  a'  glad  to  sook  up  the  miasmata.  But  mercy 
on  us !  a'  the  tureens  seem  to  me  amaist  dried  up— as  laigh's  wells 
in  midsummer  drought.  The  vermicelli,  especially,  is  drained  to  its 
last  worms.     Mr.  De  Quinshy,  you*ve  an  awfu'  appeteet ! 

Opium-Eater,  I  shall  dine  to-day  entirely  on  soup,  for  your  Edin* 
burgh  beef  and  mutton,  however  long  kept,  are  difficult  of  mastica* 
tion, — the  sinews  seeming  to  me  to  all  go  transversely,  thus, — and 
not  longitudinally, — so  — 

North,  Hark  !  my  gold  repeater  is  smiting  seven.  We  allow  an 
hour,  Mr.  De  Quincey,  to  each  course — and  then  — 

{The  Leandereplay  "  The  Boatie  Bxme^^ — ihs  door  fites  open^ 
— enter  Picardy  and  his  clan.) 

Second  Course. — Fish. 

TlOCLSR. 


<^o^ 


oa^n^P^    laoa^owH 


i 

1 

— a.  — — ^'o, 

Turbot 

Wiudermere  Char. 

Halibut 

Cods  Head 

and 
Shoulders. 

)f 

V 

^<5s^ 

Soles. 

^3^^^>^ 

English  Opium-Eatjer. 

Shepherd,  I'm  sure  wecanna  be  sufficiently  gratefu*  for  having  got 
rid  o'  thae  empty  tureens  o'  soop,  so  let  us  noo  set  in  for  serious 
eatin',  and  tackle  to  the  inhabitanU  o'  the  Great  Deep.     What's 
Vol.  m.— 29 


Digitized  by 


Google 


4t3i  NOCTES   AMBROSIAN.Ifi. 

that  bit  body  North  been  about  ?  Daidlin'  wi'  the  mock-turtle.  I 
hate  a^  things  mock — soops,  pearls,  fawse  tails,  baith  bustles  and 
queues,  wigs,  cawves,  religion,  freenship,  love,  glass-een,  rouge  on 
the  face  o'  a  woman,  no  exceppin'  even  cork  legs,  for  timmer  anes 
are  far  better,  there  bein'  nae  attempt  at  deception,  which  ought 
never  to  be  practised  on  ony  o'  God's  reasonable  creatures,  it's  sae 
insultin'. 

Opium-Eater.  Better  open  outrage,  than  hidden  guile,  which 

Shepherd,  Just  sae,  sir.  But  it's  no  a  bonny  instrument,  that 
key-bugle  ?  I've  been  tryin'  to  leam't  a'  this  wunter,  beginnin'  at 
first  wi'  the  simple  coo's-hom.  But  afore  I  had  weel  gotten  the 
gamut,  1  had  nearly  lost  my  life. 

Tickler,  What  %  From  mere  loss  of  breath — ^positive  exhaustion  t 
An  abscess  in  the  luogs,  James  ? 

Shepherd.  Nothing  o'  the  sort.  I  hae  wund  and  lungs  for  ony 
thing,  even  for  roarin'  you  doon  at  argument,  whan,  driven  to  the 
wa',  you  begin  to  storm  like  a  Stentor,  till  the  verra  neb  o'  the  jug 
on  the  dirlin'  table  regards  you  wi'  astonishment,  and  the  speeders 
are  seen  rinning  alang  the  ceilin'  to  shelter  themselves  in  their  cor- 
ner cobwebs.  (Canna  ye  learn  frae  Mr.  De  Quinshy,  man,  to  speak, 
laigh  and  lown,  trustin'  mair  to  sense  and  less  to  soun',  and  you'll 
find  your  advantage  in  it?)  But  I  allude,  sir,  to  an  adventure. 
North.  An  adventure,  James  ? 

Shepherd.  Aye — an  adventure— but  as  there's  nane  o'  you  for 
cod*s-head  and  shouthers,  I'll  first  fortify  my  sell  wi'  some  forty  or 
fifty  flakes — like  half-crown  pieces. 

Tickler,  Some  cod,  James,  if  you  please. 

Shepherd.  Help  yoursell — I'm  unco  throng  the  noo.     Mr.  De 
Quinshy,  what  fish  are  you  devoorin'  ? 
Opium- Eater,  Soles. 
Shepherd,  And  you,  Mr.  North? 
North.  Salmon. 

Shepherd,  And  you,  Mr.  Tickler? 
Tickler.  Cod. 

Shepherd.  You're  a'  in  your  laconics.  Tm  fear'd  for  the  banes, 
otherwise,  after  this  cod's  dune,  I  su'd  like  gran'  to  gie  that  pike  a 
yokin.'  I  ken  him  for  a  Linlithgow  loun  by  the  length  o'  his  lantern- 
jaws,  and  the  peacock-neck  color  o'  his  dorsal  ridge — and  I  see  by 
the  jut  o*  his  stammach  there's  store  o'  stuflin'.  There'll  be  naething 
between  him  and  me,  when  the  cod's  dune  for,  but  halibut  and  tur 
bot — the  first  the  wershest  and  maist  fiishionless  o'  a'  swimmin* 
creturs — and  the  second  owre  rich,  unless  you  intend  eatin'  no  ither 
species  o'  fish. 

Tickler.  Now,  for  your  adventure,  my  dear  Shepherd. 
Shepherd.  Whisht — and  you'se  hear't.     I  gaed  out,  9^  day,  ayoot 
the  knowo — the  same,  Mr.  North,  that  kythes  aboon  the  bit  field 


Digitized  by 


Google 


THE   BONAilSUS.  436 

whare  I  tried,  you  ken,  lo  raise  a  conterband  crap  o'  tobacco — and 
sat  doun  on  a  brae  araang  the  brackens — then  a'  red  as  the  heavens 
in  sunset — tootin'  awa  on  the  horn,  ettlin  first  at  B  flat,  and  thei^at 
A  sharp — when  I  heard,  at  the  close  o'  a  lesson,  what  I  thocht  the 
grandest  echo  that  ever  came  from  a  mountain- tap— an  echo  like  a 
rair  o'  the  ghost  of  ane  o'  the  Bulls  o'  Bashan,  gane  mad  amang 
other  horned  spectres  like  himsell  in  the  howe  o'  the  cloudy  sky  — 

Opium-Eater.  Mr.  North,  allow  me  to  direct  your  attention  to 
that  image,  which  seems  to  me  perfectly  original,  and  at  the  same 
time,  perfectly  true  to  nature.  Original  I  am  entitled  to  call  it, 
since  I  remember  nothing  resembling  it,  either  essentially  or  acci- 
dentally,  in  prose  or  verse,  in  the  literature  of  antiquity — in  that  of 
the  Middle,  ordinarily,  but  ignorantly,  called  the  Dark  Ages, — in 
that  which  arose  in  Europe  after  the  revival  of  letters — though  as- 
suredly letters  had  not  sunk  into  a  state  from  which  it  could  be  said 
with  any  precision  that  they  did  revive, — or  in  that  of  our  own 
times,  which  seem  to  me  to  want  that  totality  and  unity  which  alone 
constitute  an  age,  otherwise  but  a  series  of  unconnected  successions, 
destitute  of  any  causative  principle  of  cohesion  or  evolvement.  True 
to  nature,  no  less  am  I  entitled  to  call  the  image,  inasmuch  as  it 
giveth,  not  indeed  "  to  airy  nothing  a  local  habitation  and  a  name," 
but  to  an  "  airy  wm^^Ain^,"  namely,  the  earthly  bellowing  of  an 
animal,  whose  bellow  is  universally  felt  to  be  terrific,  nay,  moreover, 
and  therefore,  sublime — (for  that  terror  lieth  at  the  root — if  not 
always,  yet  of  verity  in  by  far  the  greater  number  of  instances 
— of  the  true  sublime,  from  early  boyhood  my  intellect  saw,  and  my 
imagination  felt,  to  be  among  the  great  primal  intuitive  truths  of 
our  spiritual  fmme) — because  it  giveth,  I  repeat,  to  the  earthly 
bellowing  of  such  an  animal,  an  aerial  character,  which,  for  the  mo- 
ment, deludes  the  mind  into  a  belief  of  the  existence  of  a  cloudy  kino, 
spectral  in  the  sky-region,  else  thought  to  be  the  dwelling-place  of 
silence  and  vacuity,  and  thus  an  aflecting,  impressive, — nay,  most 
solemn  and  almost  sacred  feeling,  is  impressed  on  the  sovereign  reason 
of  the  immortality  of  the  brute  creatures — a  doctrine  that  visits  us  at 
those  times  only  when  our  own  being  breathes  in  the  awe  of  divining 
thought,  and,  disentangling  her  wings  from  all  clay  encumbrances,  is 
strong  in  the  consciousness  of  her  Deathless  Me — so  Fichte  and 
Schnelling  speak 

Shepherd,  Weel,  sir,  you  see,  doon  came  on  my  "  deathless  me" 
the  Bonassus,  head  cavin',  the  tail-tuft  on  high,  hinder  legs  visible 
owre  his  neck  and  shouthers,  and  his  hump  clothed  in  thunder,  louder 
in  his  ae  single  sell  than  a  wheeling  charge  o'  a  haill  regiment  o' 
dragoon  cavalry  on  the  Portobello  sands^-doun  came  the  Bonassus, 
I  say,  like  the  Horse  Lifeguards  takin'  a  park  o'  French  artillery  at 
Waterloo,  right  doon.  Heaven  hae  mercy  !  upon  me,  his  ain  kind 
master,  wha  had  fed  him  on  turnips,  hay,  and  straw,  ever  syne 


Digitized  by 


Google 


436  KOCTE8   AMBR08IANJE. 

Lammas,  till  the  monster  was  fat^s  he  could  lie  in  the  hide  o'  him 
— and  naething  had  1  to  defend  mysell  wi'  but  that  silly  coo's  horn. 
A',  the  oolleys  were  at  hame.  Yet  in  my  fricht,  deadly  as  it  was,  I 
was  thankfu'  wee  Jamie  w^  not  there  looking  for  primroses,  for  be 
micht  hae  lost  his  judgment.  You  understand,  the  Bonassus  had 
mistaken  my  B  sharp  for  anitber  Bonassus  challengin'  him  to  single 
combat. 

Opium-Eater,  A  very  plausible  theory. 

Shepherd,  Thank  you,  sir,  for  that  commentary  on  ma  text — for  it 
has  given  me  time  to  plouter  amang  the  chowks  o*  the  cod.  Faith 
it  was  riae  theory,  sir,  it  was  practice ;  and  afore  I  could  60'  my 
feet,  he  was  sae  close  upon  me  that  I  could  see  up  bis  nostrils.  Just 
at  that  moment  I  remembered  that  I  had  on  an  auld  red  jacket — ^the 
ane  that  was  ance  sky-blue,  you  ken,  Mr.  North,  that  I  had  gotten 
(iyed — and  that  made  the  Boiiassus  just  an  evendoun  Bedlamite. 
For  amaist  a'  homed  cattle  hate  and  abhor  red  coats. 

North,  So  I  have  heard  the  army  say — alike  in  town  and 
country. 

Shepherd,  What  was  to  be  done  ?  I  thocht  o'  tootin'  the  horn, 
as  the  trumpeter  did  when  run  aff  wi'  in  the  mouth  o'  a  teeger;  but 
then  I  recollected  that  it  was  a'  the  horn's  blame  that  the  Bonassus 
was  there,  so  1  lost  no  time  in  that  speculation,  but  slipping  aff  my 
breeks,  jacket,  waistcoat,  shirt  and  a',  just  as  you've  seen  an  actor 
on  the  stage,  I  appeared  suddenly  before  him  as  naked  as  the  day  I 
was  born ;  and  sic  is  the  awe  sir,  wi'  which  a  human  being,  inpuri$ 
naturalibus^  inspires  the  maddest  of  the  brute  creation,  (I  had  tried 
it  ance  before  on  a  mastiff,)  that  he  was  a'  at  aince,  in  a  single  mo- 
ment, stricken  o'  a  heap,  just  the  very  same  as  if  the  butcher  had 
sank  the  head  o'  an  aix  in  till  bis  ham-pan — his  knees  trummled  like 
a  new-d rapped  lamb's,  his  tail,  tuft  and  a',  had  nae  mair  power  in't 
than  a  broken  thristle  stalk,  his  een  goggled  instead  o'  glowered,  a 
heartfelt  difference,  1  assure  you  — 

Opium-Eater,  It  seems  to  me,  Mr.  Hogg — but  you  will  pardon 
me,  if  1  am  mistaken — a  distinction  without  a  difference,  as  the  logi- 
cians say 

Shepherd,  Aye,  De  Quinshy,  ma  man — logician  as  you  are,  had 
you  stood  in  my  shoon,  you  had  gotten  yoursell  on  baith  hoins  o' 
the  dilemma. 

North,  Did  you  cut  off  his  retreat  to  the  Loch,  James,  and  take 
him  prisoner*? 

Shepherd,  I  did.  Poor  silly  sumph !  1  canna  help  thinkin'  that  he 
swarfed ;  though  perhaps  he  was  only  pretendin' — so  I  mounted  him, 
and,  puttin'  my  worsted  garters  through  his  nose — it  had  been  bored 
when  he  was  a  wild  beast  in  a  caravan — 1  keepit  peggin'  his  ribs  wi' 
my  heels,  till,  afler  gruntin'  and  graenin',  and  ralsiu'  his  great  big 


Digitized  by 


Google 


ON  THE  B0NA8SUS.  437 

unwieldy  red  bowk  half  up  frae  the  earth,  and  then  swelterin'  doon 
again,  if  aince,  at  least  a  dozen  times,  till  I  began  absolutely  to  weary 

0  my  situation  in  life,  he  feenally  recovered  his  cloots,  and,  as  if  in- 
spired wi'  a  new  speerit,  aflf  like  lichtnin'  to  the  mountains. 

North,  What ! — without  a  saddle,  James  ?  You  must  have  felt 
the  loss — I  mean  the  want,  of  leather 

Shepherd,  We  ride  a*  mainner  o'  animals  bare-baoked  in  the  For- 
est, sir.  I  hae  seen  a  baini,  no  aboon  fowre  year  auld,  ridin'  hame 
the  Bill  at  the  gloamin' — a'  the  kye  at  his  tail,  like  a  squadron  o' 
cavalry  ahint  Joachim  Murat  King  o'  Naples.  Mr.  North,  gin  ye 
keep  eatin'  sae  vorawciously  at  the  sawmon,  you'll  hurt  yourself. 
Fish  is  heavy.     Dinna  spare  the  vinegar,  if  you  will  be  a  glutton. 

North,  Ma ! 

Shepherd.  But,  as  I  was  say  in',  awa'  went  the  Bonassus  due  west. 
Though  you  could  hardly  ca't  even  a  snaffle,  yet  I  soon  found  that  I 
had  a  strong  purchase,  and  bore  him  doun  frae  the  heights  to  the 
turnpike-road  that  cuts  the  kintra  frae  Selkirk  to  Mofiat.     There  does 

1  encounter  three  gig-fu's  o'  gentlemen  and  leddies ;  and  ane  o'  the 
latter— ra  bonny  cretur — leuch  as  if  she  kent  me,  as  I  gaed  by  at  full 
gallop — and  I  remembered  haein  seen  her  afore,  though  where  I 
couldna  tell ;  but  a'  the  lave  shrieked  as  if  at  the  visible  superstition 
o'  the  Water-Kelpie  on  the  Water  Horse  mistakin'  day  for  nicht,  in 
the  delirium  o'  a  fever — and  thinkin'  that  it  had  been  the  moon  shin- 
ing down  on  his  green  pastures  aneath  the  Loch,  when  it  was  but  the 
shadow  o^  a  lurid  cloud.     But  I  soon  vanished  into  distance. 

Tickler,  Where  the  deuce  were  your  clothes  all  this  time,  my  dear 
matter-of-fact  Shepherd  % 

Shepherd,  Aye — there  was  the  rub.  In  the  enthusiasm  of  the  mo- 
ment I  had  forgotten  them — nay,  such  was  the  state  of  excitement 
to  which  1  had  worked  myself  up,  that,  till  1  met  the  three  gig-fu's 
o'  leddies  and  gentlemen — a  marriage-party — full  in  the  face,  1  was 
not,  Mr.  De  Quinshy,  aware  of  being  so  like  the  Truth.  Then  I  felt^ 
all  in  a  moment,  that  1  was  a  Mazeppa.  But  had  I  turned  back,  they 
would  have  supposed  that  I  had  intended  to  accompany  them  to  Sel- 
kirk; and  therefore,  to  allay  all  such  fears,  I  made  a  show  of  fleeing 
far  awa'  aff  into  the  interior — into  the  cloudland  of  Loch  Scene  and 
the  Gray  Mare's  I'ail. 

Opiuni-Eater,  Your  adventure,  Mr.  Hogg,  would  furnish  a  much 
better  subject  for  the  painter,  or  for  the  poet,  than  the  Mazeppa  of 
Byron.  For,  it  is  not  possible  to  avoid  feeling,  that  in  the  image  of 
a  naked  man  on  horseback,  there  is  an  involution  of  the  grotesque 
in  the  picturesque — of  the  truly  ludicrous  in  the  falsely  sublime. 
But,  farther,  the  thought  of  bonds — whether  of  cordage  or  of  leather 
—on  a  being  naturally  free,  is  degrading  to  the  moral,  intellectual, 
and  physical  dignity  of  the  creature  so  constricted ;  and  it  ought 


Digitized  by 


Google 


438  N0CT1':8   AMBROSIANiE. 

ever  to  be  the  grand  aim  of  poetry  to  elevate  and  exalt  Moreover, 
Mazeppa,  in  being  subjected  to  the  scornful  gaze  of  hundreds — nay, 
haply  of  thousands  of  spectators — the  base  retinue  of  a  barbarous 
power — in  a  state  of  uttermost  nudity,  was  subjected  to  an  ordeal  of 
shame  and  rage,  which  neither  the  contemplative  nor  imaginative 
mind  could  brook  to  see  applied  to  even  the  veriest  outcast  scum  of 
our  race.  He  was,  in  fact,  placed  naked  in  a  moving  pillory — and 
the  hissing  shower  of  scornful  curses  by  which  he  was  by  those  bar- 
barians assailed,  is  as  insupportable  to  our  thoughts  as  an  irregular 
volley,  or  street-firing,  of  rotten  eggs,  discharged  by  the  hooting  rab- 
ble against  some  miscreant  standing  with  his  face  through  a  hole  in 
the  wood,  with  his  crime  placarded  on  his  felon-breast.  True,  that 
as  Mazeppa  "  recoils  into  the  wilderness, **  the  exposure  is  less  repul- 
sive  to  common  imagination;  but  it  is  not  to  common  imagination 
that  the  highest  poetry  is  addressed ;  and,  tlierefore,  though  to  the 
fit  reader  there  be  indeed  some  relief  or  release  from  shame  in  the 
"  deserts  idle,"  yet  doth  not  the  feeling  of  degradation  so  subside  as 
to  be  merged  in  that  pleasurable  state  of  the  soul,  essential  to  the  effect 
of  the  true  and  legitimate  exercise  of  poetical  power.  Shame  pur- 
sues him  faster  than  the  wolves;  nor  doth  the  umbrage  of  the  forest 
trees,  that  fly  past  him  in  his  flight,  hide  his  nakedness,  which,  in 
some  other  conditions,  being  an  attribute  of  his  nature,  might  even 
be  the  source  to  him  and  to  us  of  a  high  emotion,  but  which  here 
being  forcibly  and  violently  imposed  against  his  will  by  the  will  of 
a  brutal  tyrant,  is  but  an  accident  of  his  position  in  space  and  time, 
and  therefore  unfit  to  be  permanently  contemplated  in  a  creature  let 
l«)Ose  before  the  Imaginative  Faculty.  Nor  is  this  vital  vice — so  let 
nie  call  it — in  any  wise  cured  or  alleviated  by  his  subsequent  tri- 
umph, when  he  returns — as  he  himself  tells  us  he  did — at  the  head 
of  "twice  ten  thousand  horse!"  — for  the  contrast  only  serves  to 
deepen  aad  darken  the  original  nudity  of  his  intolerable  doom.  The 
mother-naked  man  still  seems  to  be  riding  in  front  of  all  his  cavalry  ; 
nor,  in  this  case,  has  the  poet's  art  sufficed  to  reinstate  him  in  his 
pristine  dignity,  and  to  efface  all  remembrance  of  the  degrading  pro- 
cess of  stripping  and  binding,  to  which  of  yore  the  miserable  Nude 
had  been  compelled  to  yield,  as  helpless  as  an  angry  child  ignomin- 
iously  whipt  by  a  nurse,  till  its  mental  sufferings  may  be  said  to  be 
lost  in  its  physical  agonies.  Think  not  that  I  wish  to  withhold  from 
Byron  the  praise  of  considerable  spirit  and  vigor  of  execution,  in  his 
narrative  of  the  race;  but  that  praise  may  duly  belong  to  very  infe- 
rior powers ;  and  I  am  now  speaking  of  Mazeppa  in  the  light  of  a 
freat  Poem.  A  great  Poem  it  assuredly  is  not;  and  how  small  a 
^oem,  it  assuredly  is,  must  be  felt  by  all  who  have  read,  and  are 
worthy  to  read,  Homer*?  description  of  the  dragging,  and  driving, 


Digitized  by 


Google 


EATIONALK  OF  THE  FLIGHT.  439 

and  whirling  of  the  dead  body  of  Hector  in  bloody  nakedness  behind 
the  chariot- wheels  of  Achilles. 

Shepherd.  I  never  heard  ony  thing  like  that  in  a'  my  days. 
Weel,  then,  sir,  there  were  nae  wolves  to  chase  me  and  the  Bonas- 
8US,  nor  yet  mony  trees  to  overshadow  us,  but  we  made  the  cattle 
and  the  sheep  look  about  them,  and  mair  nor  ae  hooded  craw  and 
lang-necked  heron  gat  a  fricht,  as  we  came  suddenly  on  him  through 
the  mist,  and  gaed  thundering  by  the  cataracts.  In  an  hour  or  twa 
I  began  to  get  as  firm  oji  my  seat  as  a  Centaur ;  and  discovered  by 
the  chasms  that  the  Bonassus  was  not  only  as  fleet  as  a  racer,  but 
that  he  could  loup  like  a  hunter,  and  thocht  nae  mair  o'  a  thirty 
feet  sprang  than  ye  wad  think  o*  stepping  across  the  gutter.  Ma 
faith,  we  were  na  lang  o'  being  in  Moflfat ! 

Opium-Eater,  In  your  Flight,  Mr.  Hogg,  there  were  visibly  and 
audibly  concentrated  all  the  attributes  of  the  highest  poetry.  First, 
freedom  of  the  will ;  for  self  impelled  you  ascended  the  animal : 
Secondly,  the  impulse,  though  immediately  consequent  upon,  and 
proceeding  from  one  of  fear,  was  yet  an  impulse  of  courage ;  and 
courage  is  not  only  a  virtue,  and  acknowledged  to  be  such  in  all 
Christian  countries,  but  among  the  Romans — who  assuredly,  how- 
ever low  they  must  be  ranked  on  the  intellectual  scale,  were  never- 
theless morally  a  brave  people — to  it  alone  was  given  the  name 
virtus:  Thirdly,  though  you  were  during  your  whole  flight  so  far 
passive  as  that  you  yielded  to  the  volition  of  the  creature,  yet  were 
you  likewise,  during  your  whole  course,  so  far  active,  that  you 
guided^  as  it  appears,  the  motions,  which  it  was  beyond  your  power 
entirely  to  control ;  thus  vindicating  in  your  own  person  the  rights 
of  the  superior  order  of  creation  :  Fourthly,  you  were  not  so  subju- 
gated by  the  passion  peculiar  and  appropriate  to  your  situation,  as 
to  be  insensible  to  or  regardless  of  the  courtesies,  the  amenities,  and 
the  humanities  of  civilized  life. — as  witness  that  glance  of  mutual 
recognition  that  passed,  in  one  moment,  between  you  and  *'  the 
bonny  creature"  in  the  gig ;  nor  yet  to  be  inattentive  to  the  eflect 
produced  by  yourself  and  the  Bonassus  on  various  tribes  of  the  in- 
ferior creatures, — cattle,  sheep,  crows,  and  herons,  to  say  nothing  of 
the  poetical  delight  experienced  by  you  from  the  influence  of  the 
beautiful  or  august  shows  of  nature, — mists,  clouds,  cataracts,  and 
the  eternal  mountains :  Fifthly,  the  constantly  accompanying  sense 
of  danger  interfused  with  that  of  safety,  so  as  to  constitute  one  com- 
plex emotion,  under  which,  hurried  as  you  were,  it  may  be  said 
with  perfect  truth  that  you  found  leisure  to  admire,  nay,  even  to 
wonder  at,  the  strange  speed  of  that  most  extraordinary  animal — 
and  most  extraordinary  he  must  be,  if  the  only  living  representative 
of  his  species  since  the  days  of  Aristotle — nor  less  to  admire  and 
wonder  at  your  own  skill,  equally,  if  not  more  miraculous,  and  well 


Digitized  by 


Google 


440  NOCTTES   AHBBOSIAN^ 

entitled  to  throw  into  the  shade  of  oblivion  the  art  of  the  most 
illustrious  equestrian  that  ever  **  witched  the  world  with  noble 
horsemanship."  Sixthly,  the  sublime  feeling  of  penetrating,  like  a 
thunderbolt,  cloudiand  and  all  the  mist-cities  that  evanished  as  you 
galloped  into  their  suburbs,  gradually  giving  way  to  a  feeling  no 
less  sublime,  of  having  left  behind  all  those  unsubstantial  phantom- 
regions,  and  of  nearing  the  habitation  or  tabernacle  of  men,  known 
by  the  name  of  Moffat — perhaps  one  of  the  most  imaginative  of  all 
the  successive  series  of  states  of  your  soul  since  first  you  appeared 
among  the  hills,  like  Sol  entering  Taurus :  And,  Finally,  the  deep 
trance  of  home-felt  delight  that  must  have  fallen  upon  your  spirit — 
true  still  to  all  the  sweetest  and  most  sacred  of  the  social  affections 
— when,  the  Gray  Mare's  Tail  left  streaming  far  behind  that  of  the 
Bonassus,  you  knew  from  the  murmur  of  that  silver  stream  that 
your  flight  was  about  to  cease^ — till,  lo !  the  pretty  village  of  which 
you  spoke,  embosomed  in  hills  and  trees — the  sign  of  the  White 
Lion,  perad venture,  motionless  in  the  airless  calm — a  snug  parlor 
with  a  blazing  ingle — reapparelling  instant,  almost  as  thought — food 
both  for  man  and  beast — for  the  Ettrick  Shepherd — ^pw^ion  my 
familiarity  for  sake  of  my  friendship — and  his  Bonassus ;  yea,  from 
goal  to  goal,  the  entire  Flight  is  Poetry,  and  the  original  idea  of 
nakedness  is  lost— or  say  rather  veiled — in  the  halo-lighl  of  imagi- 
nation. 

Shepherd.  Weel,  if  it's  no  provokin',  Mr.  De  Quinshy,  to  hear 
you,  who  never  was  on  a  Bonassus  a'  your  days,  analeezin',  wi'  the 
maist  comprehensive  and  acute  philosophical  accuracy,  ma  complex 
emotion  during  the  Flight  to  Miofiat  far  better  than  I  could  do  my- 
sell 

North,  Your,  genius,  James,  is  synthetical. 

Shepherd,  Synthetical !  1  houp  no— at  least  nae  mair  sae  than 
the  genius  o'  Bums  or  Allan  Kinninghame — or  the  lave^ — for 

Opium-Eater,  What  is  the  precise  Era  of  the  Flight  to  Moffiit  I 

Shepherd,  Mr.  De  Quinshy,  youVe  like  a'  ither  great  philoso- 
phers, ane  o'  the  maist  credulous  o'  mankind !  You  wad  believe 
me,  were  I  to  say  that  I  had  ridden  a  whale  up  the  Yarrow  frae 
Newark  to  Eltrive !  The  haill  story's  a  lee  !  and  sae  free  o'  ony 
foundation  in  truth,  that  I  would  hae  nae  objections  to  tak  my  Bible 
oath  that  sic  a  beast  as  a  Bonassus  never  was  creawted — and  it's 
lucky  for  him  that  he  never  was,  for  seeing  that  he's  said  to  con- 
sume three  bushel  o'  ingans  to  dinner  every  day  o'  his  life,  Noah 
would  never  hae  letten  him  intill  the  Ark,  and  he  would  have  been 
found,  afler  the  subsiding  o'  the  waters,  a  skeleton  on  the  tap  o' 
Mount  Ararat. 

Opium-Eater,  His  non-existence  in  nature  is  altogether  distinct 
from   his  existence  in  the  imagination  of  the  poet — and  in  good 


Digitized  by 


Google 


AN  alarm!  441 

truth,  redounds  to  his  honor — for  his  character  must  be  viewed  in 
the  light  of  a  pure  Ens  rationis — or  say  rather 

Shepherd.  Just  let  him  be  an  Ens  rationis.  But  confess,  at  the 
sanie  time,  that  you  was  bammed,  sir. 

Opium-Eater,  I  recognize  the  legitimate  colloquial  use  of  the  word 
Bam,  Mr.  Hogg,  denoting,  I  believe,  "  the  willing  surrendering  of 
belief,  one  of  the  first  principles  of  our  mental  constitution,  to  any 
statement  made  with  apparent  sincerity,  but  real  deceit,  by  a  mind 
not  previously  suspected  to  exist  in  a  perpetual  atmosphere  of  &lse- 
hood." 

Shepherd,  Just  sae,  sir, — that's  a  Bam.  In  Glasgow,  they  ca't  a 
ggegg-  But  what's  the  matter  wi*  Mr.  North !  Saw  ye  ever  the 
cretur  lookin'  sae  gash  ?  I  wish  he  may  no  be  in  a  fit  o'  apoplexy. 
Speak  till  him,  Mr.  De  Quinshy. 

OpiumrEaier,  His  countenance  is,  indeed,  ominously  sable, — but 
'tis  most  unlikely  that  apoplexy  should  strike  a  person  of  his  spare 
habit;  nay,  I  must  sit  corrected ;  for  I  believe  that  attacks  of  this 
kind  have,  within  the  last  quarter  of  a  century,  become  comparative- 
ly  frequent,  and  constitute  one  of  the  not  least  perplexing  phenom- 
ena submitted  to  the  inquisition  of  Modern  Medical  Science.  Mr. 
North,  will  you  relieve  our  anxiety  ? 

Shepherd  {starting  up  and  flying  to  Mr.  North.)  His  face  is  a' 
purple.  CJonfoun'  that  cravat ! — for  the  mair  you  pu'  at  it,  the  tiohter 
it  grows. 

Opium-Eater,  Mr.  Hogg,  I  would  seriously  and  earnestly  recom- 
mend more  delicacy  and  gentleness. 

Shepherd,  Tuts.  It*s  fastened,  I  declare,  ahint  wi'  a  gold  buckle, 
— and  afore  wi'  a  gold  prin, — a  brotch  fra  Mrs.  Gentle,  in  the  shape 
o'  a  bleeding  heart  ?  'Twill  be  the  death  o'  him.  Oh  !  puir  fallow ! 
puir  fallow  ! — rax  me  owre  that  knife.  What's  this  1  You've  given 
me  the  silver  fish-knife,  Mr.  De  Quinshy.  Na, — that's  far  waur, 
Mr.  Tickler.  That  sword  for  carvin'  the  round.  But  here's  my  ain 
jockteleg. 

(Shepherd  unclasps  his  pocket-knife, — and  while  brandishing  U 
in  great  trepidation,  Mr.  North  opens  his  eyes^ 

North,  Emond!  Emond  !  Emond  !— Thurtell— Tliurtell— Thur- 
tell! 

Shepherd,  A  drap  o'  bluid's  on  his  brain, — and  Reason  becomes 
Raving  !     What's  Man  % 

Tickler.  Cut  away,  James.  Not  a  moment  to  be  lost.  Be  firir 
and  decided,  else  he  is  a  dead  heathen. 

Shepherd,  Wae's  me, — wae's  me !  Nae  goshawk  ever  sae 
glowered, — and  only  look  at  his  puir  fingers  hoo  they  are  workin' ! 
I  canna  thole  the  sight, — I'm  as  weak's  a  wean, — and  fear  that  I'm 


Digitized  by 


Google 


142  N0GTE8  AMBB08IANJL 

gaun  to  fent.  Tak  the  knife,  Tickler.  O,  look  at  his  hauns, — ^look 
at  his  hauns ! 

Tickler  (bending  over  Mr.  North.)  Yes,  yes,  my  dear  sir, — I  com- 
prehend you — 1 — 

Shepherd  (in  anger  and  cutonishment.)  Mr.  Tickler !  are  you  mad ! 
— fingerin*  your  fingers  in  that  gate, — as  if  you  were  mockin'  him  • 

Opium-Eater,  They  are  conversing,  Mr.  Hogg,  in  that  language 
which  originated  in  Oriental — 

Shepherd,  Oh  !  they're  speakin'  on  their  fingers  ! — then  a's  richt, 
— and  Mr.  North's  comin'  roun'  again  until  his  seven  senses.  It's 
been  but  a  dwawm  ! 

Tickler,  Mr.  North  has  just  contrived  to  communicate  to  me,  gen- 
tlemen, the  somewhat  alarming  intelligence,  that  the  backbone  of  the 
pike  has  for  some  time  past  been  sticking  about  halfway  down  his 
throat ;  that  being  unwilling  to  interrupt  the  conviviality  of  the  com- 
pany, he  endeavored  at  first  to  conceal  the  circumstance,  and  then 
made  the  most  strenuous  efforts  to  dislodge  it,  upwards  or  down- 
wards, without  avail ;  but  that  you  must  not  allow  yourselves  to  fall 
into  any  extravagant  consternation,  as  he  indulges  the  fond  hope 
that  it  may  be  extracted,  even  without  professional  assistance,  by 
Mr.  De  Quincey,  who  has  an  exceedingly  neat  small  Byronish  hand, 
and  on  whose  decision  of  character  he  places  the  most  unfaltering 
reliance. 

Shepherd  (in  a  hvff,)  Does  he?  Very  weel — syne  he  forgets  auld 
freens' — let  him  do  sae — 

North,  Ohrr  Hogrwhu — chru — u — u — u — Hogruwhuu — 

Shepherd.  Na  !  I  canna  resist  sic  plead  in'  eloquence  as  that — ^here's 
the  screw,  let  me  try  it.  Or,  what  think  ye,  Mr.  Tickler, — what 
think  ye,  Mr.  De  Quinshy— o'  this  pair  o'  boot-hooks.  Gin  I  could 
get  a  cleik  o'  the  bane  by  ane  o'  the  vertebrae,  I  might  hoise  it  gen- 
tly up,  by  slaw  degrees,  sae  that  ane  could  get  at  it  wi'  their  fingers, 
and  then  pu'  it  out  o'  his  mouth  in  a  twinklin' !  But  first  let  me  look 
doon  his  throat.     Open  your  mouth,  my  dearest  sir. 

(Mr.  North  leans  back  his  head^  and  opens  his  mouth,) 

Shepherd,  1  see't  like  a  harrow.  Rin  ben,  baith  o'  ye,  for  Mr. 
Awmrose.  (Tickler  and  Mr.  Db  Quincey  obey,) 

"Weel  ackit,  sir — weel  ackit — ^I  was  ta'en  in  mysell  at  first,  for  your 
cheeks  were  like  coals.  Here's  the  back-bane  o'  the  pike  on  the 
trencher — V\\ — 

(Re  enter  Tickler  and  Opium-Eater,  with  Mr.  Ambrosb,  pali 
as  death.) 
It's  all  over,  gentlemen — it's  all  over. 

Ambrose,  Oh  !  oh  !  oh  !     (Faints  away  into  Tickler's  arTns.) 

Sfiepherd,  What  the  deevil's  the  matter  wi'  you,  you  set  o'  fules  I 
— I've  gotten  out  the  bane.     Look  here  at  the  skeleton  o'  the  shark  ! 


Digitized  by 


Google 


THE   FIRST  OF   APRIL. 


443 


Opium^Eater,  Monstrous ! 

North,  (running  to  the  assistance  of  Mr.  Ambrose.)    We  have 
sported  too  far,  I  fear,  with  his  sensibilities. 

Opium-Eater,  A  similar  case  of  a  fish-bone  in  Germany — 
Shepherd.  Mr.  De  Quinshy,  can  you  really  swallow  that? 

(Looking  at  the  pike  back^  about  two  feet  long,) 
But  the  hour  has  nearly  expired. 

(The  Leanders  ploy — ''^Hey,  Johnny  Cope,  are  you  wauken  yetf^* 
— Mr.  Ambrose  starts  to  his  feet — runs  off- — and  re-appears 
almost  instanter  at  the  head  of  Hie  forces. 


Third  Course.— Flenh. 

TlOKLBR. 


•oownW  JO  oiPpBg      -"p^djqj^ 


S.     Beef-Steak  Pie. 


HacDch  of  VemsoD. 


Fillet  of  VeaL 


£noli8h  Opium-Eater. 

Shepherd,  (in  continuation,)  And  do  you  really  think,  Mr.  North, 
that  the  kintra's  in  great  and  general  distress,  and  a'  orders  in  a  state 
o'  absolute  starvation  ? 

North,  Yes,  James,  although  the  Duke*  cannot  see  the  sufferings 
of  his  subjects,  I  can — and  — 

Shepherd,  Certain  appearances  do  indicate  national  distress ;  yet 
I  think  I  cou'd,  withouten  meikle  difficulty,  lay  my  haun  the  noo  on 
ithers  that  seem  to  lead  to  a  different  conclusion. 

North,  No  sophistry,  James.  True,  that  we  are  now  sitting  at  a 
Feast.  But  remember,  James,  that  All  Fools*  Day  has  been  duly 
celebrated  by  us  ever  since  the  commencement  of  our  career,  and 
that  one  omission  of  observance  of  such  anniversary  might  prove 
&tal  to  the  existence  of  "  The  Magazine." 

Shepherd,  At  least  ominous.  For  sure  aneuch  it  wou'd  be 
ungratefu'  to  forget  our  subscribers. 

*  Of  Wellington  ;  thtn  Prim*  Minutar.— M 


Digitized  by 


Google 


444  NOCTTES   AMBBOSIAl^^ 

North.  Aod  are  we  to  violate  a  sacred  custom,  merely  because 
the  country  has  been  brought,  by  an  incapable  and  unprincipled 
ministry,  to  the  brink  of  ruin  ? 

Opium-Eater.  Yet,  I  have  seen  nothing  in  the  condition  of  the 
people,  to  incline  me  to  doubt  the  truth  of  the  doctrine,  originally 
stated  by  Say,  afterwards  expounded  by  Ricardo,  and,  since  the 
death  of  that  illustrious  discoverer,  (happier  than  Cook,  who  by 
twice  circumnavigating  the  globe, — for  on  his  third  voyage  he  was 
cut  off  by  the  savage  Sandwichers,  the  problem  unsolved — ascertained 
the  non-existence  of  Terra  Incognita  Australis ;  yea,  more  felicitous 
even  than  Columbus,  who,  while  he  indeed  found  a  new  world, 
mistook  it  for  an  old  one,  and  dreamt  that  he  beheld  isles  that  of 
old  had  been  visited  for  their  golden  store  by  the  ships  of  Solomon  ;) 
— I  say,  since  the  death  of  David  Ricardo  unmercifully  and  labori- 
ously overloaded  with  a  heap  of  leaden  words  that  love  the  ground, 
by  Smith,  and  Mac  Culloch,  [whose  pages  are  the  most  arid  spots  in 
that  desert  of  Politico-Economical  science  which  the  genius  of  the 
Jew  mapped  out,  indicating  the  direction  in  which  all  the  main 
caravan  roads  ought  to  run  by  the  banks  of  the  rivers,  by  the  wells, 
and  by  the  oaseHJ-— that  doctrine  which,  being  established  by  argu- 
ments aprioriy  would  indeed  remain  in  my  reason  immutable  as  an 
axiom  in  the  mathematics,  in  spite  of  all  the  seeming  opposition  of 
mere  outward  facts,  or  phenomena  from  which  the  blind  leading  the 
blind,  owl  like  in  mid-day,  would  seek  to  draw  conclusions  at  vital 
enmity  with  those  primal  truths  subsisting  effectually  and  necessa- 
rily in  fbe  Relations  of  Things; — (which  relations  indeed  they  are, 
shadowed  or  figured  out  to  ordinary  apprehension  under  various 
names ;) — the  Doctrine,  in  short,  that  Production  is  the  Cause  of 
Production,  that  Vents  create  Vents,  and  thence,  that  a  universal 
Glut  is  a  Moral  and  Physical  Impossibility,  the  monster  of  a  sick 
merchant's  dream. 

Shepherd,  That  Vents  creawte  Vents  !  Do  you  mean,  in  plain 
language,  Mr.  De  Quinshy,  to  say  that  lums  creawte  lums — that  ae 
chimley  procreawtes  anither  chimley  — 

North.  My  dear  James,  you  know  nothing  of  Political  Economy 
—so  hold  your  — 

Shepherd.  Heaven  be  praised !  for  a'  them  that  pretends  they  do 
— I  mean  the  farmers — aye  break.  I  ken  ae  puir  fallow,  a  oock- 
laird,  wi'  a  pleasant  mailin'  o*  his  ain,  that  had  been  in  the  family 
since  Seth,  that  got  his  death  by  studyin'  the  Slot.  **  Stimulate 
production!  Stimulate  production  !  "  was  aye  puir  Watty's  cry — 
"  Nae  fear  o*  consumption.  The  naU  consumer e  fruges  " — (for  the 
Slot  had  taught  him  to  quote  some  rare  lines  o'  Latin) — "  will  aye 
be  hungry  and  thirsty,  and  need  to  wear  claes ;" — but  Watty  drave 
baith  his  pigs  and  his  sheep  to  a  laigh  market  \  he  fand  that  tb^Stot 


Digitized  by 


Google 


0L08E-FI8TBD.  445 

was  likewise  far  wrang  in  tellin'  him  that  competition  cou'd  no  pos- 
sibly  reduce  profits — an  apothegm  you  would  hae  thocht  aforebaun' 
that  wud  hae  scunner'd  a  natural-born  idiot — yet  still  wud  Watty 
study  the  Stot — for  he  was  a  dour  cretur — till  ae  nicht,  ridin'  hame 
frae  Selkirk,  wi'  MacCul loch's  Principles  in  the  right-haun  pouch  o' 
his  big  coat,  be  was,  as  you  micht  easily  hae  conjectured,  thrawn 
aff  his  balance,  and  cowpin'  ower  till  that  side,  was  dragged  wi'  his 
fit  in  the  stirrup  till  he  was  as  dead  as  the  Stot's  ain  doctrine  about 
Absentees. 

North,  Besides,  gentlemen,  remember  that  our  board  to-day  is 
chiefly  supplied  by  presents,  among  which  are  many  love-gifU  from 
the  fair  — 

Shepherd.  And  then.  The  Fragments  — 

North,  The  Reliqucs  Danaum  — 

Shepherd,  Are  the  property  o'  the  poor  — 

North,  And  will  all  be  distributed  to-morrow,  by  ticket,  accord- 
ing to  the  arrangement  of  Mrs.  Gentle 

Shepherd,  The  maist  charitable  o*  God's  cretur's — exceptin'  your- 

sell,  my  dear  sir — whose  haun'  is  open  as  day Oh,  man !  but 

there's  a  heap  o'  hatefu'  meanin'  in  the  epithet,  close-JUted  I  I  like 
aye  to  see  the  open  pawm,  for  it's  amaist  as  expressive 's  the  open 
broo.  A  greedy  chiel,  him  that's  ony  way  meeserly,  aye  sits,  you'll 
observe,  wi'  his  nieves  crunkled  up  unconsciously  through  the  power 
o'  habit,  or  keeps  them  in  the  pockets  o'  his  breeks  as  if  fumblin' 
amang  the  fardens ;  and  let  the  conversation  be  about  what  it  wull, 
there's  aye  a  sort  o'  mental  reservation  in  his  een,  seem  in'  to  say, 
that  if  the  talk  should  tak  a  turn,  and  ony  hint  be  drapt  about  a  sub 
scription  to  a  droon'd  fisherman's  widow  and  weans,  or  the  like,  he'll 
instantly  thraw  cauld  water  on't,  suggest  inquiries  intill  her  character, 
and  ring  the  bell  for  his  hack.  North,  luk  at  thae  twa  creturs  gutlin' 
— the  tane  at  the  saiddle,  and  the  tither  at  the  fillet !  Awmrose, 
change  the  position  r)'  the  foure  principal  dishes  answerin'  to  the 
Foure  Airts.* 

Ambrose  makes  the  saddle  exchange  placet  with  the  Jillet,  the  sir- 
loin with  the  round.) 
By  this  dispensation,  each  o'  us  gets  easy  access,  feenally,  to  a'  the 
dishes,  sereawtim  ;  can  carve  in  his  ain  way,  and  taks  his  fair  chance 
o'  the  tidbits ; — but  d'ye  ken,  sirs,  that  I'  m  getting  melancholy — 
fa'in  into  laigh  spirits — weary  o'  life.  I  houp  it's  but  the  reaction 
frae  that  daffin' — but  really  the  verra  skies  seem  to  me  een  as  if  I 
were  lookin'  up  to  them,  lyin'  on  my  back  aneath  a  muddy  stream 
— while,  as  for  this  globe,  it's  naething  but  glaur !  The  poetry  o* 
life  is  dead  and  buried,  sir,  and  wha  can  bear  to  be  wadin'  frae  mom- 
in'  till  nicht,  up  to  his  oxters,  in  prose  1    The  verra  deevil  himsell'a 

*  .tfft-U— windi.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


446  N0CTE8   AMBBOBIAN^ 

got  dull  in  thb  haun's  o'  that  Rab  Montgomery* — cauldrifed,  as  if 
hell  were  out  o'  coals, — a'  its  blast-furnaces  choked  up  wi'  blue  si- 
lent ashes — and  the  damned  coorin'  and  chitterin'  in  corners,  as  if 
fire  were  frost 

North.  James !  James  ! 

Shepherd.  Dinna  be  feared  for  me  bein'  blasphemous.  Rather 
than  sin  sae,  micht  I  cease  to  breathe,  or  gang  sighin'  and  sabbin'  in 
insanity  through  the  woods  and  moors !  The  deevil's  just  as  utter 
a  nonentity  as  ony  ither  dream  ;  or  if  no,  at  the  maist,  he^s  but  a 
soap-bubble.  Mind  ye,  Tm  speakin'  o'  an  external  deevil — a  shaped 
Satan — a  limVd  Lucifer — a  Beelzebub  wi'  a  belly — goin'  bodily 
about,  wi'  cloots  and  horns,  seeking  whom  he  may  devour. 

North.  The  saving  superstition  of  the  imagination. 

Shepherd.  Just  sae — shadows  seen  by  sin  movin'  atween  and  the 
sky  in  the  gloamin,'  when  naebody's  near,  but  some  glowerin'  and 
listenin'  auld  motionless  tower — shadows  o'  its  ain  thochts,  at  which 
it  aften  gangs  demented — nor  will  they  subside  awa'  in  till  naething, 
but,  unsubstantial  as  they  are,  far  mair  endurable  than  substance — 
just  as  ghosts  continue  to  glide  about  for  centuries  after  the  bodies 
have  amaist  ceased  to  be  even  banes,  and  haunt  a'  the  hills  and  glens, 
sunshine  and  moonlight  alike,  loun  or  stormy  days ;  nor  unprivileged 
are  they  by  conscience  to  enter — just  as  if  a  thunder^jloud  were  ^ide 
o'  the  sinner,  even  on  the  Sabbath — and  keepin*  fixed  on  his  their 
dismal  een,  they  can  frighten  the  immortal  spirit  within  him,  sae 
that  his  ears  nae  mair  transmit  to  it  the  singin'  o'  the  psalm — unless 
you  ca^  that  singin,'  which  is  mair  like  the  noise  o'  ever  sae 
many  swarms  o'  bees  a*  castin*  thegither  on  a  het  day  on  the  same 
sycamore,  and  murderin'  ane  anither  in  the  confusion  o'  queens,  by 
haill  hives,  till  the  winged  air  is  in  torment,  and  a*  the  grun'  aneath 
crawlin'  wi*  wrathfu'  mutilation  ! 

North.  Pollok  was  a  true  poet — and  the  Course  of  Time,  though 
not  a  poem,  overflows  with  poetry ;  but  the  apes  of  that  angel  must 
be  bagged,  and  stifled  in  the  cess-pools  of  the  cities  where  they 

Shepherd.  Suppose  we  begin  wi'  the  Embro'  apes.  There's  that 
cretur 

North.  Let  him  stand  over  for  a  season — one  other  chatter — and 
he  dies. 

Shepherd.  I  cou'd  greet — I  hae  grat^ — to  think  o'  puir  Pollok  hae- 
in'  been  ca'd  sae  sune  awa' — but  his  country  may  be  said  to  hae 
bigged  a  monument  ower  his  remains. 

North.   Poor  Blanco  White's  London  Review — got  up  among 

*Thfl  Rey  Robert  Montgomery,  now  \\S5A'\  Minister  of  Percy  Episcopal  ChapeU  London, 
WM  a  stiident  at  Oxford  in  1830.  The  aucceBs  of  his  "  Omnipresence  of  the  Deity,^'  before  he 
was  twenty-one,  had  made  him  what  is  called  *'a  popular  poet,"  and  he  rithlessly  followed 
this  up  with  "  The  UniTersal  Prayer,'^  and  a  sort  of  epic  called  *•*  Satan,"  with  other  Tolomes. 
—For  some  years,  Montgomery  has  been  a  flowery  and  popular  preacher.— M 


Digitized  by 


Google 


THE  HAGAZINB.  447 

some  of  the  most  formal  of  the  Oxford  prigs — for  Whateley*  surely 
could  never  countenance  such  a  concern — the  only  number  that  ever 
got  printed  ordered  the  world  to  despise  Pollok.  The  Course  of 
Time — Miltonic  in  design  and  execution — was  tried  by  the  Oriel 
critic  as  a  prize  poem 

Shepherd.  I  recoUeck,  sir.  Yon  Number's  used  at  Mount  Benger 
still,  as  a  stane  weight 

North,  Each  paltry  periodical,  James,  that,  bom  of  poorest  pa- 
rents, and  fed  from  the  first,  as  pauper's  brats  must  be,  on  pap  pro- 
vided by  charity,  begins  soon  as  it  is  dropped,  drab-and-ditch  deliv- 
ered. Instinctively  to  caterwaul  after  the  fashion  of  its  progenitors, 
like  a  nest  o'  kittens,  snoking  about  the  straw  with  their  little  red 
snub-noses,  and  sealed  swoln  eyes,  which  are  plainly  doomed  never 
to  see  the  day,  except  perhaps  one  single  blink  on  the  morning  they 
are  all  plopped  piteously  into  a  pond,  to  be  fished  out  and  flung  in 
again,  every  spring-Saturday,  by  schoolboys  learning  the  elements 

of  angling Each  paltry  periodical,  James,  weekly,  monthly,  or 

quarterly — while  like  a  bubble  in  a  cart-wheel  rut,  it  attempts  to  re- 
flect the  physiognomy  of  Christopher  North— employs  the  very  first 
moments  of  its  transitory  existence  in  showing  its  gums — for  time  is 
not  given  it  for  teeth — at  Me — at  Us — at  the  Magazine — who  would 
not  even  take  the  trouble  of  treating  it  as  a  Newfoundland  dog  has 
been  sometimes  seen  to  treat  a  troublesome  turnspit. 

Shepherd,  Out  they  gang,  ane  afler  the  ither,  like  sae  mony  far- 
den  candles,  stickin'  intill  turnips — and  och  !  what  a  shabby  stink  ! 
Ae  single  sneer,  frae  you,  sir,  smeeks  and  smithers  them  in  their 
ain  reek  ;  and  yet,  sic  is  the  spite  o'  stupidity,  that  ae  fule  taks  nae 
warnin'  frae  the  fate  o'  the  fule  afore  him,  but  they  are  a'  like  sae 
mony  sheep,  jumpin'  o'  their  ain  accord  into  the  verra  shambles — 
although  the  Shepherd — that's  me — does  a'  he  can'  wi'  his  colleys  to 
keep  ^em  out  o'  the  jaws  o'  destruction,  and  get  them  a'  safely  col- 
lected in  a  staring  squad  on  the  common,  where  they  may  feed  on 
herbage  little  or  none  the  waur  for  the  goose-dung.  Hoo's  the  Em- 
bro'  Review  gaun  on  1 

North,  Very  well  indeed,  James.  Methinks,  under  the  new  edi- 
tor,* it  hath  more  pith  and  smeddum. 

Shepherd,  O'  late  years  it  has  aye  reminded  me  o'  an  auld  worn- 
out  ram,  whom  the  proprietor  does  na  like  either  to  let  dee  o'  hun- 

*  Dr.  Richard  VHiatelT,  when  President  of  St.  Albania  Hall  and  Profenor  of  Political  Eeon- 
omy,  at  Oxford,  in  ISSI,  was  made  Archbishop  of  Dublin.  He  was  intimate  with  the  Rer. 
Blanco  White,  who  had  been  a  pnent  in  Spain,  and  passed  through  Protestantism  into  the  Uni* 
tarian  faith.  Archbishop  Whaieley's  Manual  of  Loeic  has  become  a  schcol-book.  His  '^Hia* 
Ut'ic  Doubts  on  the  existence  of  Napoleon  Bonaparte^'  (on  the  model  of  Horace  Walpole's  br<H 
thure  on  Richard  III..)  has  gone  into  a  threat  many  editions.  In  lb54,  be  is  sixty-seven  yean 
of  age.    The  annual  income  of  his  Archbishopric  is  nearly  X8U00. 

*ln  X^ISi  MaoTey  Napier  succeeded  Jeffrey  in  the  Editorship  of  the  E^nbwrgk  Rtvimo, 


Digitized  by 


Google 


I 


148  NO0TB8   AMBBOBIAN^ 

ger,  or  a'  at  aince  to  put  out  o'  its  meesery— but  syne  he's  of  nae 
use  noo^  and  wunna  sell  either  for  woo'  or  meat,  the  master  flings 
him  noo  and  then  a  turnip,  and  noo  and  then  alloos  him  a  wusp  o' 
strae — as  he  stauns  wi'  his  tawty-sides,  speeral  horns,  and  beard 

that  has  never  been  shorn  in  the  memory  o'  man ^the  Emago 

rather  than  the  Reality  o'  a  Ram. 

North.  Why,  James,  the  youth  of  the  animal  seems  in  some 
measure  restored,  and  he  butts  away  with  much.animation  and  — 

Shepherd,  Let  him  tak  tent  he  does  na  break  his  horns.  Them 
that's  beginning  to  bud's  tender,  but  them  that's  dune  wi'  growin' 
's  frush  ;  I  hae  nae  faith  in  the  renewal  o*  youth ;  and  though  the 
Ram,  videlicet,  the  Review,  may  be  better  fed  noo  than  for  some 
wunters  by-past — puir  beast! — yet  be  can  only  be  patched  up.  Ye 
may  aiblins  fatten  his  sides — but  Til  defy  you  to  harden  his  horns. 
Wash  him  in  the  Sky-blue  Pool,  but  still  wull  his  woo'  be  like  a 
species  o'  hair  on  some  outlandish  dug ;  and  as  for  oontinuin'  his  — 

North,  Southey's  Colloquies  are,  in  the  opinion  of  young  Macau- 
lay,*  exceedingly  contemptible  — 

Shepherd,  And  wha's  young  Macaulay  ? 

North,  The  son  of  old  Macaulay. 

Shepherd,  And  wha  the  deeviFs  auld  Macaulay  1 

North,  21achary. 

Shepherd.  What?  The  Sierra  Leone  saint,  who  has  been  the 
means  of  sendin'  sae  mony  sinners  to  Satan  through  that  accursed 
settlement  ? 

North,  The  same — whom  our  friend  Macqueen  has  sauabashed 
— and  whom  that  able  and  accomplished  man  Charles  M'Kenzie, 
late  consul-general  at  Hayti  — 

Shepherd.  Charles  M'Kenzie  !  I  see  his  Notes  on  Hayti  advertized 
by  Colburn.  I'll  warrant  they'll  be  gude — for  I  remember  him  lang 
ago,  a  medical  student  at  the  college  here,  afore  he  turned  himsell 
to  mercantile  affairs,  and  a  cleverer  young  man  wasna  in  a'  £mbro'. 

North,  He  is  about  to  be  sent  out  by  government  to  Cuba— one 
of  the  judges  to  inquire  — 

Shepherd,  I'm  glad  to  hear't — 1  houp  noo  he'll  send  me  hame 
some  rum  and  limes — wi'  a  hogshead  o'  sugar  — 

*  ThomM  Babington  Mao&nlay,  th«  tmineBt  ipeaker  [of  prtpared  oration*,]  poat,  critie,  and 
hUtohan.  About  such  a  man  information  cannot  be  aaperflaoaa.  Therefora  (  aay  that  ho 
was  bom  at  Uothlej  Temple,  Leicesterihire,  in  1800 ;  graduated  at  Trinity  Col  leg*,  Cam* 
bridge :  was  elected  to  the  Craven  Fellowship  in  IbSl  ;  to  a  fellowship  in  Trinity  in  IBH: 
made  B.  A.  in  1H22  ;  M.  A.  in  1825 :  called  to  the  English  bar  in  1820  ;  was  elected  a  b«noh«t 
of  liinco  n's  inn  in  Id  19 ;  was  CommiMioner  of  Bankruptcy ;  Commisioner.  and  snbMqnentlj 
n  ^^ecretary  to  the  India  Board  ;  Member  of,  and  legal  adviser  to,  (with  an  annnnl  salary  of 
JtlO.OUU  for  five  years,)  the  Supreme  Council  of  India;  Secretary  ut  War  from  1839  to  lb4l  ; 
Vaymaster-General  from  1840  to  It^H.  Has  sat  in  Parliament  from  1830  to  1854— with  two 
vacancies  of  five  years  each,  on*  while  absent  in  India,  the  other  from  lB47  to  1853,  whan 
torned  out  of  the  representation  of  Edinburgh,  which  ha  ragainad  withoat  any  aolicitAtion 
on  hia  part  in  the  latter  year.    Unmamed.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


i 


MAOAULAY    AND   60UTHET.  449 

North,  But,  James,  as  I  was  saying,  Thomas  Macaulay  informs 
his  fellow-creatures  that  Robert  Southey's  mind  is  "  utterly  desti- 
tute of  the  power  of  discerning  truth  from  falsehood." 

Shepherd,  Then  Thomas  Macaulay  is  nather  more  nor  less  than 
an  impertinent  puppy  for  his  pains ;  and  Maga  should  lay  him 
acro.ss  her  knee,  doun  wi'  his  breeks,  and  haun  ower  head  wi'  the 
tause  on  his  doup,  like  Dominie  Skelp  — 

North,  He  adds,  "  Mr.  Southey  brings  to  the  task  two  faculties 
which  were  never,  we  believe,  vouchsafed  in  measure  so  copious  to 
any  human  being, — the  faculty  of  believing  without  a  reason,  and 
the  faculty  of  hating  without  a  provocation ;"  and  again,  "  in  the 
mind  of  Mr.  Southey,  reason  has  no  place  at  all,  as  either  leader  or 
follower,  as  either  sovereign  or  slave." 

Shepherd.  1  wonner,  sir,  hoo  you  can  remember  sic  malignant 
trash.  An'  these  are  the  symptoms,  sir,  are  they,  that  the  youth  o' 
the  auld  Kam  is  renewed  1 

North,  No  doubt  seems  to  have  entered  the  mind  of  the  young 
gentleman,  that,  while  in  fact  he  was  merely  attempting,  without 
much  point,  to  stick  a  pin  into  the  calve  of  one  of  Mr.  Southey's 
literary  legs,  he  was  planning  a  dagger  in  the  brain  of  the  Laureate. 

Shepherd,  A  Lilliputian  atween  the  spauls  o'  Gulliver.  Yet  one 
canna  but  admire  the  courage  o'  the  cretur  in  the  inverse  ratio  o'  its 
impotence.  Only  suppose  Soothey  to  stir  in  his  sleep^but  to  gie  a 
sneeze  or  a  snore — and  hoo  the  bit  barrister — for  I  remember  what 
the  bit  body  is  noo — would  wriggle  awa  like  a  worm,  and  divin* 
intill  some  dung,  hide  himsell  amang  the  grubs. 

North,  He's  a  clever  lad,  James 

Shepherd,  Evidently,  and  a  clever  lad  he'll  remain,  depend  ye 
upon  that,  a'  the  days  o'  his  life.  A  clever  lad  o'  thirty  year  auld 
and  some  odds,  is  to  ma  mind  the  maist  melancholy  sicht  in  nature 
—only  think  o'  a  clever  lad  o'  threescore  and  ten  on  his  death-bed, 
wha  can  look  back  on  nae  greater  achievements  than  haein'  aince 
^-or  aiblins  ten  times — ^abused  Mr.  Soothey  in  the  Embro'  Review  ! 

North,  The  son  of  the  Saint,*  who  seems  himself  to  be  something 
of  a  reviewer,  is  insidious  as  the  serpent,  but  fangless  as  the  slow- 
worm. 

Shepherd,  That's  the  hag  or  blin-worm  ? 

North,  The  same.  He  pretends  to  admire  Mr.  Southey's  poetry 
that  with  its  richness  he  may  contrast  the  poverty  of  his  prose. 
"His  larger  poems,"  quoth  he,  "  though  full  of/aultSy  are  neverthe- 
less extraordinary  productions.  We  doubt  greatly  whether  they  unit 
be  read  fifty  years  hence — ^but  that,  if  they  are  read,  they  will  be  ad- 
mired, we  have  no  doubt  whatever."  As  for  his  short  poems,  **  they 

*  Zachary  MaoAnlay,  th«  Uctoriau'i  fathar,  waa  ona  of  tht  Wilbezfbraa  School  of  Piatiata. 

*  Vol.  in.— 30 


Digitized  by 


Google 


450  KOCTES  AMBBOSIAN^ 

are  not  generally  hap])j  ;   and  "  his  odes  are  for  the  most  part 
worse  than  Pye's,  and  as  bad  as  Gibber's." 

Shepherd,  ruir  deevil !  hoo  envious  thochts  maun  hae  been  eatin' 
awa  at  his  heart  like  mites  in  a  rotten  cheese  I 

North,  All  Mr.  Souther's  heroes — says  the  Templar — "  make 
love  either  like  seraphim  or  cattle."  "  No  man  out  of  a  cloister 
ever  wrote  about  love  so  coldly,  and  at  the  same  time  so  grossly." 

Shepherd.  A'  the  young  leddies  in  Britain  ken  that  to  be  a  lee— 
and  the  cross-bred  puppy  o*  a  mongrel-cur  wadna  hesitate  to  ca* 
themselves  limmers,  afler  speakin*  o'  the  coldness  and  grossness  of 
the  love  of  Tbalaba  for  Oneiza  his  Arabian  Maid,  whether  breathed 
in  delight  beneath  the  palm-tree's  shade,  or  groaned  in  madness 
amid  the  tombs,  after  Azrael  the  angel  of  death  had  left  their  bridal 
chamber.     What  does  he  mean  by  cattle? 

North,  Obscene  insolence ! 

Shepherd,  Trash  like  that,  sir,  wad  damn  at  aince  ony  new 
periodical.  Tak  ma  word  for*t,  sir,  the  auld  Ram'll  no  leeve  lang 
on  sic  articles  o'  consumption.  He*ll  tak  the  rot,  and  dee  a'  ae 
scab,  ae  carbuncle,  "  a  perfect  chrysolite." 

North,  I  had  some  thoughts  of  e.xposing  the  gross  misrepresenta- 
tions— say  the  falsehoods — of  this  article — but 

Shepherd,  Tweel  it's  no  worth  your  while.  The  weed's  withered, 
I'se  warrant,  by  this  time,  though  no  a  month  auld,  while  the  flowers 
o'  Mr.  Soothey's  genius,  rich  and  rare,  bright  and  balmy,  will  breathie 
and  bloom  as  lang  s  the  sun  shines  on  the  earth,  and  the  Seasons  keep 
rinnin',  alternately,  unwearied  alangside  o'  his  chariot  wheels.  Mr, 
De  Quinshy,  what  for  dinna  ye  speak  ? 

Opium-Miter.  Mr.  Southey  is,  beyond  all  doubt,  one  of  the  most 
illustrious,  just  as  Mr.  Macaulay  is  one  of  the  most  obscure  men,  of 
the  age.  The  abuse  lavished  upon  him  in  that  contemptible  critique 
on  his  Colloquies — a  critique  which  I  have  read,  and  therefore  must 
correct  the  statement  I  made  about  the  middle  of  the  last  Course, 
that  I  had  not  seen  any  number  of  the  Edinbui^h  Review  since  that 
for  April,  1826 — is  baser  than  I  could  have  expected,  even  from  a 
Macaulay — meaning  thereby  any  Sinner  among  the  Saints — and  I  do 
not  doubt,  Mr.  Hogg,  to  use  your  own  amusing  image,  that  it  will 
sicken,  if  not  poison  to  death,  the  old  Ram — ^the  ancient  Aries— a 
sign  into  which  the  sun  never  enters  — 

Shepherd.  That's  wutty — I'm  a  sure  judge  o'  wut — that's  wutty! 

Tickler^  (aside  to  the  Shepherd.)  But  so-so  ;  1  prefer  our  admir- 
able friend's  logic  to  his  — 

Shepherd^  (aside  to  Tickler.)  Na,  na,  I  canna  thole  his  logie. 

Opium-Eater,  But  while  I  reprobate  the  insolent  spirit  in  which 
this  obscure  cipher  has  chosen  to  speak  of  such  a  good  and  great 
man,  let  it  be  understood  that  I  not  only  withhold  my  syi<vipathy 


Digitized  by 


Google 


SOUTHEY   ON   MAGAZINES.  45i 

from  some  of  the  sentiments  expressed  by  Mr.  Sou  they  in  his  Collo 
quies,  but  censure  them  as  most  erroneous  and  most  unjust ;  as,  for 
example,  all  that  he  has  falsely  and  foolishly  said,  in  that  and  other 
works,  respecting  the  periodical  literature  of  this  age.  What  ripht 
had  Mr.  Southey,  who  gains  an  honorable  livelihood,  chiefly  by  his 
contributions  to  Reviews,  to  put  into  the  mouth  of  Sir  Thomas  More 
the  following  insulting  sentence — insulting  to  many  minds  of  the 
same  order  with  his  own,  and  as  devoted  to  the  truth ; — "  The  waters 
in  which  you  have  now  been  angling  have  been  shallow  enough,  if 
the  pamphlet  in  your  hand  is,  as  it  appears  to  be,  a  Magazine." 
Nor  is  his  answer  to  the  Ghost  more  courteous  to  his  contempora- 
ries ; — "  In  publications  of  this  kind,  prejudicial  as  they  are  to  public 
taste  and  public  feeling,  and  therefore  deeply  injurious  to  the  real 
interests  of  literature,  something  may  sometimes  be  found  to  com. 
pensate  for  the  trash,  and  tinsel,  and  insolent  flippancy,  which  are 
now  become  the  staple  commodities  of  such  journals." 

Shepherd,  Hut,  tut,  Mr.  Soothey  ;  you  shouldna  hae  said  that,  sir, 
for  it's  no  tr 

Opium-Eater,  In  the  first  place,  Mr.  Southey  ought  to  have  given 
the  name  of  the  pamphlet^-tbat  is,  the  Magazine — from  which  he 
chose  to  extract  Kant's  Idea  of  a  Universal  History  on  a  Cosmopo 
litical  plan.  Secondly,  he  ought  to  have  printed  that  extract  as  an 
extract  from  that  Magazine,  and  not  to  have  attempted,  rather  unsuc- 
cessfully,  to  incorporate  its  substance  with  his  own  work.  Thirdly, 
he  ought  to  have  given  the  name  of  the  translator,  not  unknown  to 
him,  when  he  scrupled  not  to  enrich  the  Colloquies  with  some  of 
Kant's  thoughts,  in  the  original  to  him  maccessible,  as  Mr.  Southey'a 
knowledge  of  the  language  of  Germany  does  not  embrace  the  nomen- 
clature of  any  of  its  philosophical  schools  or  sects.*  Fourthly,  to 
insult  publicly  the  character  of  all  Magazines — that  included  from 
which  you  are  at  the  same  time  pilfering  a  jewel,  (Mr.  Southey  will, 
nay  must,  ponder  the  word  "  pilfer,")  is  inconsistent  with  the  com- 
mon courtesies  of  life,  and  unworthy  of  a  scholar  and  a  gentleman. 
Fifthly,  the  Magazine  from  which  Mr.  Southey  makes  that  extract 
(which  I  may  mention  was  translated  by  me)  was  the  London  Mag- 
azine, published  by  Taylor  and  Hessey,  and  originally  under  the 
editorship  of  John  Scott.  Its  chief  supporters  were  Charles  Lamb, 
William  Hazlitt,  Allan  Cunningham,  Thomas  Hood,  Reynolds,  the 
most  amiable  and  ingenuous  Aytuun,f  whose  beautiful  and  original 

*  AU  thi*— qnenloQi  and  egotiitical — if  lo  vonderfullj  like  wh&t  D«  Qnineey  wnuU 
hATe  nid,  (and  irh&t  h«  aitenrmrda  did  writ*,)  that  I  anipeot  ha  inppliad  tha  '*  ipsUtitHa  vtrba.'** 

t  Aytonn,  ^'  who  died  too  loon,"  iraaaTery  clerer  enayint.  Fanny  Aytonn,  hli  nater,  waa 
Prima  Donna,  for  aaeaaon,  at  the  Italian  Opera-Honse,  in  London.  She  after  jrarda  became  a 
teacher  of  mnaio  and  lioging,  in  Liverpool.  The  last  time  I  aaw  her,  in  1859,  was  as  the  wi£b 
of  Mr.  Barlow,  in  London,  with  a  graoefnl  and  beaotifal  daughter  by  her  side ;— it  was  indeed 
the  rose  and  the  roett-bnd. — M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


\ 


4?2  NOCTES    1MBE06IAN-E. 

Papers  were  aflerwards  collected  and  published  in  two  volumes, 
and — let  me  not  assume  the  semblance  of  that  paltry  humility  which 
i  despise— myself;  and  how  dared  Mr.  Southey  to  assert,  that  of 
any  journal  so  supported,  tinsel,  trash,  and  insolent  flippancy,  were 
the  staple  commodities! 

Shepherd,  I  couldna  love  as  weel  as  admire  ony  man,  however 
great  and  good,  and  Mr.  Soothey's  baith,  and  has  aye  been  generous 
to  my  genius,  gin  he  hadna  his  wee  bit  weaknesses,  like  ither  folk — 
sae  on  the  whole,  Vm  glad  that  he  has  been  sae  far  left  to  himsell  aa 
to  sneer  at  a*  the  Maggazins,  and  insult,  in  a  lump,  a*  their  editors, 
contributors,  and  subscribers,  comprehending,  I  guess,  nine-tenths  o* 
the  nation. 

Opium-Eater,  Neither  shall  a  spurious  delicacy  deter  me  from 
declaring,  even  here,  that  there  is  more  wit,  and  more  wisdom,  in 
the  Periodical  over  which,  Mr.  North,  you  preside,  and  to  which 
there  are  now  present  two  of  the  most  distinguished  contributors  — 

Shepherd,  Say  three,  sir — say  three,  Mr.  De  Quinshy — ^for  when 
you  do  write — pity  it's  sae  seldom — ye  bang  us  a'  — 

Opium-Eater,  Than  in  an  equal  number  of  any  other  miscellane- 
ous volumes,  the  product  of  this  or  the  preceding  century,  not  ex- 
cepting on  the  list  all  the  best  of  Mr.  Southey's  own,  full  as  they 
are  of  wit  and  wisdom,  and  placing  him  deservedly  in  the  first  rank 
of  our  literature.  Tinsel  there  may  be,  but  it  lies  lightly  over  bars 
of  the  beaten  gold ;  he  must  have  an  instinct  for  trash  who  can  detect 
it  among  the  necessaries  and  luxuries  of  life,  that  are  monthly  dis- 
tributed to  all  classes,  with  most  lavish,  even  prodigal  profusion, 
from  that  inexhaustible  Magazine  ;  and  as  for  insolent  flippancy,  that 
cannot  be  said  without  senseless  and  blindfolded  injustice,  to  be  the 
staple  commodity  of  a  Periodical,  of  which  one  of  the  chief  claims 
has  long  lain  in  those  myriad-minded  Dialogues,  whose  facete  benig- 
nities, cordialities,  and  humanities,  form  a  continued  era  in  the  phi- 
losophy of  human  life.  Need  I  name,  unworthy  member  as  1  am  of 
this  meeting — the  Noctes  Ambrosianse! 

Orrmes,  Hurra — hurra — hurra  ! 

Shepherd,  Gie  me  an  unce  o'  opium,  Mr.  De. Quinshy  — 

Opium-Eater^  {Jilling  up  drops  of  laudanum  in  the  minimeter  to 
120.)  1  give  you  a  small  dose  to  begin  with,  Mr.  Hogg  — 

Shepherd,  Na — na — I  was  but  jokin' — I'm  ower  auld  to  begin  on 
the  poppy,  I'se  een  keep  to  the  maut. 

Opium-Eater,  To  recur,  for  a  brief  space,  to  the  article  on  Mr. 
Southey  in  the  Edinburgh  Review.  The  editor,  who,  I  am  told,  is 
an  able  and  judicious  man,  ought  not  to  have  admitted  it,  at  this 
juncture,  or  crisis,  into  his  work.  Mr.  Jeffrey  and  Mr,  Southey 
were  open  and  avowed  foes,  Mr.  Jeffrey  having  been,  beyond  all 
question,  the  aggressor.     The  interest  of  the  war  was  at  an  end. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


SIB  THOMAS   MORE.  453 

when  that  accomplished  champion  quitted  the  field ;  and  the  public 
is  not  prepared  to  regard,  with  any  satisfaction  the  renewal  of  the 
attack  on  Mr.  Southey,  by  a  combatant  whose  shield  bears  no  im- 
press of  any  high  emprise.  He  is,  afler  all,  but  a  mere  sicirmisher, 
and  could  not  abide  the  onset  of  a  man-at-arms. 

North,  The  editor  should  at  least  have  assured  himself,  by  a  pe- 
rusal of  the  Colloquies,  that  the  young  man's  critique,  as  it  is  called, 
contained  no  such  wilful  misrepresentations  as  would  disgrace  a  gen- 
tleman in  the  intercourse  of  private  life. 

Opium-Eater,  Yet  several  such  there  are — ^gross  mis-statements  of 
facts — to  say  nothing  of  the  spirit  of  mis-interpretation  that  pervades 
the  whole  article — ^like  envenomed  blood,  circulated  through  a  body 
bloated  and  discolored  by  some  rank  disease.  The  mention  of  one 
will  suffice ;  and,  if  not  dead  to  shame,  let  the  face  of  the  reviewer 
blush  brass,  while  he  hangs  down  his  head. 

North,  The  volumes  are  in  the  saloon  library.  I  will  get  them 
for  you  in  a  moment. 

(Mr.  North  takes  down  the  Colloquies  from  the  shelf  QebsvLw) 

Opium-Eater,  Beautifully  bound  !     By  what  artist  ? 

Noi'th,  By  Henderson  * 

Opium^Eater,  Now,  I  will  make  a  complete  exposure  of  this  prig 
—who,  in  seeking  to  render  Mr.  Southey  ridiculous,  has  made  him- 
self hateful. 

Shepherd,  Here's  your  health,  sir,  again,  in  a  caulker.  Let's 
hear't. 

Opium^Eater,  In  the  Colloquy  entitled — Walla-Crag — Sir  Tho- 
mas More  having  said  that  the  progress  of  the  useful  arts,  and  the 
application  of  science  to  the  purposes  of  common  life,  warrant  the 
expectation,  that  whenever  a  state  shall  duly  exercise  its  parental 
duties,  there  will  be  no  trades  which  shall  either  hebetate  the  facul- 
ties or  harden  the  heart, — 

Shepherd,  That,  I  fear,  's  Utopian. 

Opium-Eater,  Not  the  less  characteristic,  on  that  account,  Mr. 
Hogg,  of  Sir  Thomas  More. 

Shepherd,  Eh? 

Opium-Eater.  Montesinos — the  name  Mr.  Southey  adopts  in 
these  Colloquies — says,  **  Butchers  will  continue," — and  then  adds, 
^^  I  cannot  but  acknowledge,  with  good  John  Fox,  that  the  sight  of 
a  slaughter-house  or  shambles,  if  it  does  not  disturb  this  clear  con- 
viction," (he  is  alluding  to  the  mercifulness  of  cutting  off  suddenly 
and  violently  the  existence  of  animals,  who  thus  suffer  less  than 
those  who  die  of  disease  or  inanition,)  ^'  excites  in  me  uneasineas 
and  pain,  as  well  as  loathing.*' 

*  Of  Edinburgh.-M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


454  KOCTES  AMBROeiAKJB. 

Shepherd.  Natural  enough,  surely,  and  likelj  to  happen  to  a' 
men  unaccustomed  to  see  butchin' — 

Opium-Eater.  "They  produce,"  contmues  Mr.  Southey,  "a 
worse  effect  upon  the  persons  employed  on  them ;"  and  again,  he 
says,  "  perhaps,  however,  the  hardness  of  heart  which  this  occupa- 
tion is  believed  to  produce,  may,  in  most  cases,  have  been  the  cause 
wherefore  it  is  chosen.** 

Shepherd,  I  can  scarcely  agree  wi'  that — 

Opium-Eater.  Allow  me,  Mr.  Hogg,  to  complete  what  I  have  got 
to  say,  without  interruption.  Here  the  Reviewer  falls  foul  of  Mr. 
Southey  for  an  alleged  libel  on  Butchers.  "  Mr.  Southey,^  quoth 
he,  "  represents  them  as  men  who  are  necessarily  reprobates — as 
men  who  must  necessarily  be  reprobates — even  in  the  most  im- 
proved state  of  society — even  to  use  his  own  phrase,  in  a  Giris- 
tian  Utopia."  Here  follows  a  forty-line  page  of  high  moral  vitupe- 
ration. Now,  the  chaise  is  entirely  false,  and  the  Reviewer  must 
have  known  it  to  be  entirely  false.  For  there  is  an  alternation — an 
interchange  of  sentiment  on  this  subject  between  the  two  interlocu- 
tors  in  the  Dialogue.  Sir  Thomas  More  corrects  this  first  wholly 
natural,  but  partly  erroneous  impression,  made  on  the  mind  of 
Montesinos  bv  the  sight  of  the  shambles,  and  shows  him  "  how  he  is 
mistaken."  Montesinos  represents  himself  as  being  set  right  by 
the  gracious  Ghost,  and  says,  "  The  best  answer,  however,  to  what 
I  was  unthinkingly  disposed  to  credit,  is,  that  Uie  men  engaged  in 
this  occtupation  are  not  found  to  furnish  more  than  their  numerical 
proportion  of  offenders  to  the  criminal  list ;  and  that,  as  a  body 
they  are  by  no  means  worse  than  any  other  set  of  men  upon  the 
same  level."  He  then  quotes  Dr.  Beddoes,  and  enters  somewhat 
deeper  into  the  philosophy  of  the  matter— observing,  "  because  they 
are  well  fed,  they  are  not  exposed  to  the  temptation  which  necessity 
brings  with  it,  the  mother  of  crime,  as  well  as  of  arts ;  and  their 
occupation  being  constant,  they  are  likewise  safe  from  the  dangers 
of  idleness.  The  relation,  too,  in  which  they  stand  to  their  custom- 
ers, places  them  in  a  salutary  degree  of  dependence,  and  makes 
them  understand  how  much  their  own  welfare  depends  upon  civility 
and  good  conduct." 

Shepherd.  Macaulay  can  hae  nae  principle— that's  flat 

Opium-Eater.  Sir  Thomas  More  is  then  made  to  say  to  Montesi- 
nos— "  You  have  thus  yourself  remarked,  that  men  who  exercise  the 
occupation,  which  of  all  others  at  first  sight  appears  most  injurious 
to  the  human  heart,  and  which  inevitably  must  injure  it  to  some 
degree,  are,  in  point  of  fact,  no  worse  than  their  neighbors,  and 
much  better  than  the  vagrant  classes  of  the  population,  and  those 
whose  employment  is  casual.  ^^Y  ^^e  better,  because  they  fare 
better,  and  are  more  under  the  influence  of  order.    Improve  the 


Digitized  by 


Google 


80CJTHKY.  455 

condition  of  others,  bring  them  within  the  sphere  of  order,  instead  of 
leaving  them  merely  within  the  reach — the  chance  reach,  almost  it 
may  be  called — of  vindictive  law,  and  the  result  will  be  the  same." 

Tickler,  Your  exposure,  sir,  o'  the  calumniator,  is  complete. 

Opium- Eater.  Allow  me  to  read  one  short  passage  more  from  the 
Review:  "And  what  reasons  are  given  for  a  judgment  so  directly 
opposed  to  every  principle  of  sound  and  manly  morality.  Merely 
this — that  he  cannot  abide  the  sight  of  their  apparatus — that  from 
certain  peculiar  associations  he  is  affected  with  disgust  when  he 
passes  by  their  shops." 

Shepherd.  O  man !  I  wadna  be  that  Macaulay  for  ony  money. 
Hoo  sma'  he  looks !  Hoo  sma'  he  sings !  and  hoo  sma'  he  maun 
feel  in  the  preevat  consciousness,  and  the  public  conviction,  o'  haein' 
deliberately  traduced  sic  a  man  as  Mr.  Soolhey  !  without  ony  ither 
provocation,  I  jalouse,  than  the  sense  o'  inferiority,  that  keeps  gnawin' 
like  a  veeper  at  the  veetals  o'  the  envious,  and  licks  up  party  spite, 
or  rather  party  spittle,  a  foul  and  fetid  foam  that  drenches  the  worms' 
&ngs,  if  it  has  gotten  ony,  and  a'  worms  hae  organs  o'  some  sort  or 
ither  for  bitin' — ^in  a  poison  that  only  the  mair  blackens  and  embit- 
ters its  ain  rotten  heart. 

North,  {glancing  over  the  article  in  the  Beview.)  What  stuff's  this 
about  lawyers  and  soldiers  ? 

Opium-Eater.  All  of  the  same  kidney — silly  sophistry  or  mon- 
strous misrepresentations,  which  — 

North.  The  Whigs  will  chuckle  and  crow  over,  but  the  gentlemen 
of  England  tread  scornfully  under  foot,  as  something  smelling  of  a 
new  kind  of  Cockneyism,  even  more  offensive  to  the  senses  than  that 
which  stinks  in  Little  Britain. 

Shepherd.  Fling't  frae  you.  Wi'  a'  your  fawtes,  sir,  you  never 
admit  intil  Maga  ony  malignant  attacks  on  Genius,  and  Virtue,  and 
Knowledge — and  when  or  where  were  these  Three  ever  united  mair 
gloriously,  and  mair  beautifully,  and  endearingly,  than  in  Mr. 
Soothey  1  Had  Mr.  Soothey  been  a  Whig,  and  had  he  leev'd  in 
Embro'  here,  and  had  you  written  in  that  way  about  him,  (a  great 
heap  o'  maist  impossible  and  contradictory  supposes,  I  alloo — some- 
thing like  supposin'  licht  darkness,  and  straught  crooked,  and  honey 
the  jice  o'  aloes,)  what  a  hullyballoo  would  have  been  raised  again 
you,  and  what'n  an  assassin  wou'dna  ye  hae  been  caM,  like  the  Auld 
Man  o'  the  Mountain !  But  ye  never  was  an  assassin,  sir,  ony  mair 
than  a  Saint  O'  a'  the  Great  Poets  o'  the  age,  whatever  their  poli- 
tics or  their  party,  you  have  sounded  the  eulogium,  trumpet-tongued, 
till  a'  the  warld  rang  wi'  their  fame.  What'n  a  contrast  atween 
Maga  and  the  Ram  !     But  whisht,  I  heard  a  fisslin'  in  the  gallery  ! 

North.   Leander! 

The  horns  sound,  and  enter  ii  les^  Ambrose. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


^56  KOOTES  AMBROSIAKM, 

Shepherd,  (in  continuation,)    Ggemm  !  and  Fools ! 

Fourth  Course, — Fowl. 
Tickler. 


.^oaO 

•wipiioj,  ju)H 

1 

Plover. 

Cook  of  the  Wood 

Ptann%aii 

^ 

Chickens. 

English  Opium-Eatkr. 

S/i£pherd,  I  fancy  the  order  of  the  day  hauds  gude  alike  through 
a'  the  coorses — every  man  helpin'  himsell  to  the  dish  neist  to  hirn ; 
then  to  think  hoo  the  verra  seasons  ihemsells  accommodate  their 
productions  to  our  Festivals  !  Soops,  Fish,  Flesh,  and  Fool  o*  a' 
sorts  in  perfection,  in  spite  o'  the  month — it's  really  curious,  and 
shows  hoo  folk's  the  slaves  o'  habit.  Mr.  North,  ony  thing  gaunon, 
up  by  yonner  in  Lunnun,  in  the  literary  department? 

North.  I  live  so  entirely  out  of  the  literary  world,  James,  that  — 

Shepherd,  Ye  ieeve  in  a'  kind  o*  warlds,  you  warlock ;  and  confoun 
me  if  I  dinna  believe  you  employ  spies. 

North,  None,  my  dear  James,  but  these  two  eyes,  now  waxing 
somewhat  dim,  and  these  two  ears,  now  waxing  somewhat  deaf,  and 
that  general  sense  of  feeling  spread  by  nature  all  over  the  surface  of 
the  body,  all  through  its  frame,  and  originating  in  the  interior  of  the 
soul,  by  which  one  is  made  to  feel  and  know  a  thousand  indescriba- 
ble things,  far  beyond  the  acquisition  of  the  mere  understanding, 
things  of  which  the  range  grows,  so  it  seems,  wider  and  wider  every 
day  as  we  near  the  place  of  our  final  rest 

Shepherd,  No,  I  canna  say  I  do ;  but  what's  gaun  on  in  Lunnun 
in  the  book  way  t 

North,  Sotheby  has  published  three  Specimens  of  his  translation 
of  Homer — the  First  Book  of  the  Iliad,  the  Parting  between  Hector 
and  Andromache,  and  the  Shield  of  Achilles. 

Tickler,  A  bold,  nay,  a  rash  man,  to  enter  the  lists  with  Pope. 

Shepherd.  Wi'  Pop  f     What  for  no?     I've  heard  there's  a  great 


Digitized  by 


Google 


THB   SHEKroAN   FAMILY.  437 

difference  atween  Pop^s  Homer  and  Homer's  Homer,  and  I  can  yreei 
beliftv't 

Tickler.  And  so  perhaps  will  there  be  found  to  be  between  Sothe- 
by's Homer  and  Homer's  Homer,  James;  a  great  or  greater  — 

North,  Sotheby's  Georgios  stamped  him  the  best  translator  in 
Christendom.  That  was,  in  my  opinion,  a  more  difficult  achieve- 
ment than  an  equally  admirable  translation  of  the  Iliad.  1  have 
read  his  specimens — and  in  an  early  number — perhaps  the  next — in- 
tend to  sift  them  thoroughly,*  comparing  all  the  fine  or  difficult  pas- 
sages in  the  original,  with  Popo,  Hobbes,  Chapman,  Cowper — and 
my  friend,  Mr.  Sotheby,  who  will  probably  be  found,  in  the  whole, 
to  have  excelled  all  his  predecessors  in  this  great  task. 

Tickler,  I'll  back  Pope  for  a  rump  and  a  dozen 

North,  Done.  Have  you  seen  a  little  volume,  James,  entitled 
"  Tales  in  Verse,"f  by  the  Reverend  H.  T.  Ly te — published  by 
Marsh  and  Miller,  and  which  seems  to  have  reached  a  second  edi« 
tioni 

Shepherd,  Na! 

North.  Now,  that  is  the  right  kind  of  religious  poetry.  Mr.  Lyte 
shows  how  the  sins  and  sorrows  of  man  flow  from  irreligion,  in  sim- 
ple but  strong  domestic  narratives,  told  in  a  style  and  spirit  remind- 
ing one  sometimes  of  Goldsmith,  and  sometimes  of  Crabbe.  A  vol- 
ume so  humble  in  its  appearance  and  pretensions  runs  the  risk  of 
being  jostled  off  the  highway  into  by-paths — and  indeed  no  harm  if 
it  should,  for  in  such  retired  places  twill  be  pleasant  reading — pen- 
sive  in  the  shade,  and  cheerful  in  the  sunshine.  Mr.  Lyto  has 
reaped 

"  The  harvest  of  a  quiet  eye, 
That  broods  and  sleeps  on  its  own  heart'*— 

and  his  Christian  Tales  will  be  read  with  interest  and  instruction  by 
many  a  fireside.  The  Brothers  is  eminently  beautiful ;  and  he  ought 
to  give  us  another  volume. 

Shepherd,  Wha's  she,  that  Mrs.  Norton,  that  wrote  the  Sorrows 
o^  Rosalie  ? 

North,  Daughter  of  poor  dear  Tom  Sheridan,  who  was  indeed  a 
star.J  Four  generations  of  genius  ! — She  is,  I  am  told,  even  more 
beautiful  than 

*  This  pnnniM  tru  fulfilled— but  not  nntil  the  following  year.    The  Articles  -were  by  Wil- 
son.— M. 

t  This  workf  of  which  the  second  edition  was  published  in  December,  1899,  was  entitled 
•*  Tales  in  Verse,  Ulustratire  of  the  seTeral  Petitions  of  the  Lord's  Prayer."— M. 

1  Tom  Sbendan  was  son  of  the  great  orator  and  dramatist,  T>y  his  first  wife,  the  beautifal  to- 
oafist.  Mitt  Llnlej.  He  was  olever  and  careless,  wittr  and  improrident.  He  finally  obtained 
an  appointment  at  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  where  he  died.  Of  his  children, — one  daugh- 
ter mairied  Lord  Seymour,  and  will  be  Duchess  of  Somerset ;  another  also  married  well 
another,  the  poetess-^most  gifted,  unhappy  and  imprudent— espoused  Mr.  Norton,  brother  of 
Lord  Grantley.  The  only  son,  Kichard  Brinsley  Sheridan,  eloped  with  the  heiress  of  Sif  Col- 
qchunn  Oraot,  and  has  been  in  PariiameBt  from  lb46  until  the  preeent  time.^M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


458  NOCTE8  AMBROSIAXiB. 

Shepherd,  Her  poetry !  That*  11  be  no  easy,  sir  ;  for  there's  a 
snftness  and  a  sweetness  and  a  brichtness,  and  abune  a' an  indefinite, 
and  indescribable,  and  undefinable,  and  unintelligible,  general,  vague, 
dim,  fleetin*  speerit  o'  feminine  sympathy  and  attraction — ^iia,  na,  na, 
these  are  no  the  richt  words  ava — a  celestial  atmosphere  o'  the  balm 
o*  a  thousand  flowers,  especially  lilies  and  roses,  pinks,  carnations, 
violets,  honeysuckle,  and  sweetbriar — an  intermingled  mawgic  o'  the 
sweetest  scents  in  natur — heaven  and  earth  breathin'  upon  ane  anith- 
er's  faces  and  breasts — hangin  ower  yon  bit  pathetic  poem,  Kosalie, 
that  inclines  ane  to  remember  the  fair  young  lady  that  wrote  it  in 
his  prayers ! 

North,  G<»od,  kind,  and  true,  my  dear  James.     That  is  criticism. 

Shepherd,  It's  a  story  of  seduction,  nae  doot,  and  the  prim-mou'd 
will  purse  up  their  lips  at  it,  as  if  you  were  gaun  to  offer  to  kiss 
them — than  whilk  naething  could  be  farther  frae  my  intentions — 
however  near  it  might  be  to  their  desires. 

North,  "  A  tale  of  tears — a  mortal  story." 

Sliepherd,  Oh  !  sir !  boo  delicately  virtuous  women  write  about 
love !  Chastity  feels  her  ain  sacred  character — and,  when  inspired 
by  genius,  isna  she  a  touchin'  Muse !  Modesty,  Chastity's  sister, 
though  aiblins  at  times  rather  just  a  wee  thocht  ower  doun-lookin', 
and  as  if  a  red  light  fell  suddenly  on  a  white  lily  or  a  white  rose, 
blushin'  no  that  deeply,  but  wi'  a  thin,  fine,  faint,  fleetin'  tint,  sic  as 
you  may  see  within  the  inside  o'  a  wee  bit  curled  shell  when,  walk- 
ing on  the  yellow  seashore,  you  baud  it  up  atween  you  and  thelicht, 
and  feel  boo  perfectly    beautifu'  is  the  pearl 

North,  Mrs.  Norton  is  about  to  publish  another  poem — "The  Un- 
dying One."     1  do  not  like  the  title 

*  Shepherd,  Nor  me  the  noo.  But,  perhaps,  when  published,  it 
may  be  felt  to  be  appropriate ;  .and  at  a'  events,  whatever  objections 
there  may  be  to  the  name,  there'll  be  nane,  I'm  sure,  to  the  speerit 
o'  the  poem. 

North,  I  remember  reading,  one  day  last  summer,  at  the  foot  of 
Benloinond,  a  little  poem,  called  Gabrielle,  from  the  pen  of  Cyrus 
Redding — the  collaborateur  of  Canjpbell,  1  have  heard,  in  the  New- 
Monthly, — which  breathed  a  fine,  fresh,  free,  mountain  spirit.  The 
scene  is  laid  in  Switzerland — and  the  heroine  goes  mad  with  woe  on 
the  death  of  her  parents  under  an  avalanche.  There  are  numberless 
true  touches  of  nature,  both  in  the  pathetic  and  the  picturesque,  which 
prove  the  author  to  belong  to  the  right  breed.     He  is  a  Poet. 

Shepherd,  Wha'sBawll 

North,  Mr.  Ball  is  a  young  gentleman,  at  least  I  hope  so,  who  has 
modestly  avoided  the  more  difficult  and  extensive  subjects  of  song, 
and  chosen  one  of  the  easiest  and  narrowest — ^The  Creation. 

Shepherd,  Ofcoorse — in  blanks! 


Digitized  by 


Google 


POLLOK.  459 

North.  Yes,  James,  in  blanks.  I  see  Mr.  Murray  has  advertised 
a  "  Descent  into  Hell."* 

Shepherd,  Thai's  rather  alarm  in' — is  it  to  be  performed  by  Moo- 
shy  Shawbert?  I  thocht  Mr.  Murray  wou'd  hae  keepit  clear  o'  sio 
flams.  The  Descent  into  Hell !  That's  fearsome.  You  see,  sir,  as 
1  was  say  in'  afore,  last  coorse,  a'  the  pious  poets  are  plageareesin* 
frae  Pollok.  They'll  a'  be  forgotten  in  the  Course  of  Time.  Pre- 
serve me !  there's  a  pun  ! 

North.  And  a  very  fair  one,  too,  James. 

Shepherd,  A'  this  wark  wi'  religious  poems  reminds  me  o*  the 
shootin'  o'  a  wild  swan  ae  day,  about  twenty  years  syne,  by  a  Shep- 
herd, on  the  Loch.  It  was,  indeed,  a  maist  majestic,  and,  at  the 
same  time,  beauteous  cretur,  seeming,  as  it  lay  dead  on  the  green- 
sward, bailh  foreign  and  indigenous,  to  belang  equally  to  a'  the  snaw- 
mountains  o'  the  earth.  Hunders  flocked  frae  a*  pairU  o'  the  Forest 
to  gaze  on't,  and  there  was  some  talk  o*  stuflin*t ;  but  ae  nicht  it  un- 
accountably disappeared — and  a  lassie,  that  was  comin'  by  hersel' 
across  the  moonlicht  hills,  said  she  saw  something  spiritual-like  sail- 
ing amang  the  stars,  on  wings,  that,  as  they  winnowed  the  blue  air, 
were  noiseless  as  a  cloud  ;  but  the  simple  thing,  at  the  time,  never 
thocht  of  a  swan.  Weel — naething  would  serve  a'  the  Shepherds  in 
the  Forest,  but  to  gang  ilka  idle  day  to  the  Loch  a  swan-shootin' ! — 
so  they  ca'd  it — though  never  anither  swan  was  shotten  on't  frae  that 
day  till  this;  but  then  the  chiels  now  and  then  got  a  wild  guse,  and 
no  unfrequently  a  wild  dyuck,  and  on  ae  grand  oecasion,  1  remem- 
ber Jock  Linton  bringin'  to  Fahope's  an  auld  drake  and  an  auld 
dyuck,  wi'  about  a  dizzen  flappers,  as  he  ca'd  them,  as  tame  as  ony 
that  ever  waddled  about  the  dubs  o'  a  farm-yard.  The  truth  is,  they 
were  Fahope's  ain  Quackies  that  had  stravaiged  to  the  L^>ch  ;  and 
daff  Jock  never  doubted  they  were  sjvans  and  cygnets.  The  applica- 
tion, sir,  is  obvious.  Pollok's  poem  is  the  bonny  and  mngniticent 
wild  swan  ;  a'  the  lave  are  but  geese  or  goslins,  dyucks  ordyucklins 
— yet  every  Cockney  shooter's  as  proud  as  puir  Jock  Linton,  and 
thinks  himsel'  an  Apollo— or,  as  Homer — that's  Pop — says — *'Tho 
God  with  the  silver  bow." 

North.  Yet  better  even  such  **  dilution  of  trashiness,"  than  a 
fashionable  novel. 

Shepherd.  Do  you  ken,  sir,  I  really  thocht  "  The  Exclusives  "  no 
sae  meikle  amiss,  considerin'  that  the  author's  a  butler — or  rather 
— I  ax  his  pardon — a  gentleman's  gentleman,  that  is  to  say,  avally- 
de-shani.  To  be  sure,  it  was  rather  derogatory  to  his  dignity,  and 
disgracefu'  to  the  character  which  he  had  brocht  frae  his  last  place, 

*  This  poem  was  by  John  Abraham  Heraud,  who  Germanized  his  faculties  until  he  became 
nearly  unintelligible.  Ho  was  fond  of  quoting;  from,  and  proving  about,  this** Epic.'*  One 
iay,  he  said  to  Douglas  Jerrold,  **  Have  you  ev«r  reen  my  Descent  into  Hell  ?"  Jerrwfd,  turning 
kis  green  and  fishy  eyes  upon  the  querist,  emphatically  answered,  **No,  /  wish  /  A'irf."— .M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


460  NOGTES   AMBBOSIAN^ 

to  mirrj  his  master^s  cast-off  kept-mistress  ;  but  then,  on  the  other 
haun\  she  was  a  woman  o'  pairts,  and  o'  some  sma'  education,  and 
was  a  great  help  to  him  in  his  spellin*,  and  grammar,  and  figures  o' 
speech.  The  style,  for  that  reason,  o*  The  Exclusives,  is  rather 
velegant ;  and  had  the  limmer,  after  the  loun  had  made  her  an 
honest  woman,  contributed  the  maitter  too,  the  trash  wouM  hae 
been  far  better  worth  read  in*,  and  if  nae  great  favorite  in  the 
heart  o'  toons  and  cities,  roJcht  hae  had  its  ain  run  amang  the  soo- 
burbs. 

North,  Mr.  Colbum  has  lately  given  us  two  books  of  a  very  dif 
ferent  character,  Richelieu  and  Damley — by  Mr.  James.  Richelieu 
is  one  of  the  most  spirited,  amusing,  and  interesting  romances  I 
ever  read  ;  characters  well  drawn — incidents  well  managed — story 
perpetually  progressive— catastrophe  at  once  natural  and  unexpected 
— moral  good,  but  not  goody — and  the  whole  felt,  in  every  chapter, 
to  be  the  work  of  a — Gentleman.* 

Shepherd,    And  what  o'  Darnleyl 

North,  Read,  and  judge.  The  scribes  who  scrawl  the  fashionable 
novels  compose  a  singular  class.  Reps  of  both  sexes,  including 
kept  mistresses  and  kept  men — fancy  men,  as  they  are  called  in  St 
Giles's ;  married  women,  with  stains  on  their  reputations  as  well  as 
on  their  gowns,  laboring  under  the  imputation  of  ante-nuptial  chil- 
dren ;  unmarried  women,  good  creatures  enough,  and  really  not  im- 
modest, but  who  have  been  tnfortunate,  and,  victorious  in  literature, 
have  yet  met  a  fatal  overthrow  from  love ;  gamblers,  now  billiard- 
markers  in  hells ;  fraudulent  bankrupts  in  the  Bench  ;  members  once 
returned  and  received  for  a  rotten  borough ;  rou6s,  who,  at  school 
and  college,  were  reckoned  clever,  and,  upon  town,  still  cling  to  that 
belief,  which  is  fast  fading  into  pity,  contempt,  or  scorn;  forgers; 
borrowers;  beggars;  thieves;  robbers;  perhaps  a  murderer,  for 
Jack  Thurtell  had  a  literary  turn ;  and  had  he  not  been  hanged, 
would,  ere  now,  have  produced  a  fashionable  novel. 

Shepherd,  I  wunner,  if  sic  be  the  constitution  o'  the  clan,  that  they 

dinna  write  better  byucks.     Blackguards  and are  aflen  gaily 

clever.  I  suspeck  you  omit,  in  your  philosophical  enumeration,  the 
mere  sumphs  and  sumphesses 

North,  Two  or  three  men  of  birth  and  fashion  do  wield  the  pen, 
such  as  Lord  Normanby,  Mr.  Lister,  and  Mr.  Bulwer ;  they,  in  their 
respective  styles,  write  well,f  and  must  be  horribly  annoyed  at  being 
brought  into  contact,  by  Mr.  Colbum's  indiscriminate  patronage, 

*  6.  P.  R.  Junes.  th«  most  prolifle  noraliit  of  hi*  day,  wroU  **  Rio)i«U«n**  in  1895,  cnbmit* 
t«d  it  to  Scott,  receired  hit  fftTorable  opinion,  and  pnblithed  it  is  IbSB.  Sinoa  ISSai,  he  haa 
btan  British  CodsqI  at  Richmond,  Virf^inia.— M. 

t  Lord  Normanby,  author  of  "  Yaa  and  No,'*  and  '*  Matilda.**  Mr.  Littar,  author  of  *^  Gnabj ;" 
and  Bulwar— poot,  critic,  dramatist,  historian,  orator,  and  aoraiiat.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


NE.W  BOOKS.  461 

with  the  scurvy  crew  of  both  sexes  whose  cacoetkes  scribendi  is  not 
the  worst  itch  that  frets  their  cuticle. 

Shepherd,  Hoo's  Murray's  Family  Library  gettin'  on,  sir? 

North,  Swimmingly,  soaringly.  Allan  Cunningham's  Lives  of 
the  Painters — I  icnow  not  which  of  the  two  volumes  is  best — are  full 
of  a  fine  and  instructed  enthusiasm.  He  speaks  boldly,  but  rever- 
entially, of  genius,  and  of  men  of  genius;  strews  his  narrative  with 
many  flowers  of  poetry ;  disposes  and  arranges  his  materials  skil- 
fully ;  and  is,  in  few  words,  an  admirable  critic  on  art — an  admira- 
ble biographer  of  artists.  Have  you  read  Stebbing's  History  of 
Chivalry  and  the  Crusades?  No.  Then  do.  'Tis  the  last  and  one 
of  the  best  of  the  series  in  Constable's  Miscellany — style  clear, 
sentiments  and  opinions  just,  descriptions  picturesque,  and  the 
stream  of  narrative  strong  and  flowing.  Mr.  Stebbing  is  a  rising 
writer. 

Shepherd.  Are  there  nae  mair  o'  them,  sir  1 

North,  Several.  The  author  of  the  Collegians  has  much  genius. 
Leitch  Ritchie  writes  powerfully  ;  and  Picken's  Dominie's  Legacy, 
three  volumes  of  stories,  chiefly  Scottish,  well  deserves  a  place  iu 
every  library  that  prides  itself  on  its  own  snug  national  comer,  set 
apart  for  worthies  born  north  of  the  Tweed.* 

Shepherd.  I  aye  prophesied  gude  things  o'  that  Pieken.  O  but 
his  "Mary  Ogil vie  "  is  verra  afieckin.  But,  speakin'  o*  national 
corners,  read  ye  that  letter,  sir,  in  the  Examiner,  abusin'  a'  Scotch- 
men, and  the  twa  capital  anes  in  answer  ? 

North,  I  did,  James.  The  Examiner  for  some  years  past  has 
been  a  very  able  paper — and  frequently  shows  fight,  even  with  the 
Standard.  They  are  both  good  swordsmen,  and  sometimes  bleed 
with  mutual  but  not  mortal  wounds. 

**  Thrioe  18  he  armed  who  hath  his  quarrel  just ; " 

and  therefore  the  Examiner  contends  at  odds.  But  he  is  "  cunning 
of  fence,"  strong  and  nimble-wristed,  and  without  fear.  He  is — 
savage  as  he  sometimes  seems,  nay  truculent — I  verily  believe  an 
honest  and  generous  man,  and  while  he  propounds  his  own  opinions 
in  his  leading  columns  as  an  honest  man  should  do,  why,  it  is  not  to 
the  discredit  of  a  generous  man,  perhaps  now  and  then  to  give  an  ob- 
scure corner  to  some  pauper  who  may  have  seen  better  days,  that 
the  poor  wretch,  shivering  in  rags,  and  filthy  in  squalor,  may  have 
the  only  comfort  of  which  his  miserable  condition  now  admits — for 

*  6«nld  GrifBn,  an  Irithmnn,  author  of  "  Th*  ColUgian*/*  ^Tnlas  of  tho  Mantter  Festi- 
rals,"  and  the  Drama  of  Gisippaa.  L«itch  Ritchie,  author  of  Schinderhannes,  and  other  prose 
fictions,  ii  now  editor  of  Chamber*'^  Edinlmrfrk  Journal. — ^Andrew  Pieken  produced  aeveral 
-work*  besides  the  Dominie's  Legacy,  which  established  his  faine  hs  the  delineator  of  hamble 
Scottish  life.  Shortly  before  his  death,  (in  1833,)  appeared  his  "  Traditions  and  Stories  of  Old 
Families,''  and  a  norel,  ealled  **  The  Blade  Watoh,"  was  published  after  his  duath,  with 
marked  success. — M* 


Digitized  by 


Google 


462  Nocnii;s  ambrobianjs. 

cheap  as  gin  is,  it  must  be  purchased — the  relief  of  spitting  out  his 
bile,  as  the  diseased  drunkard  dreams  on  some  object  of  his  insane 
malignity,  while  the  fetid  dregs  of  his  spleen,  hawked  up  m  a  fit  of 
coughing  that  crinkles  of  a  galloping  consumption,  fall  down  a  gob 
on  the  Rr)re  nnkedness  of  his  own  unstockinged  and  shoeless  feet. 

Shepherd.  Your  defence  o'  the  Examiner's  kind,  but  no  sound,  sir. 
He  ought  to  send  the  pauper  to  the  poor- house.  Nay,  true  charity 
would  alloo  him  gin  and  forbid  ink. 

North,  There  can  be  no  bad  blood  in  any  good  heart,  when  the 
question  is  debated,  of  the  comparative  glories  of  England  and 
Scotland. 

Shepherd,  I'm  no  sure  o'  that,  sir ;  dang't,  the  fire  flees  to  my  face 
whenever  I  articulate  the  first  critical  letter  o'  a  syllable  about  to  be 
uttered  against  Scotland  by  a  Southron. 

Opium-Eater,  Far  be  it  from  me,  Mr.  Hogg,  to  disallow  to  such 
feelings,  natural  as  they  are ;  and,  therefore,  since  right  in  educated 
minds  is  but  another  name  for  natural — also  right ;  far  be  it  from 
me,  I  repeat 

Shepherd,  I  wasna  speakin*  o*  you,  sir,  though  aiblins  I  couM 
show,  even  in  your  writins,  certain  sneering  uses  o'  the  woi-d 
"  Scotch,"  that  you  micht  just  as  weel  hae  left  to  the  Cockneys  — 

Opium-Eater,  I  indignantly  deny  the  charge,  Mr.  Hogg.  A  sneer 
is  the  resource  of  the  illiberal  and  illogical  — 

Shepherd,  And  deevil  tak  me,  and  you  too,  sir,  gin  you  belang 
to  either  o'  thae  two  classifications !  for,  as  to  liberality,  I've  seen 
you  walkin'  arm  in  arm  wi*  an  atheist ;  and  as  to  logic,  were  Aris- 
totle hinisell  alive,  ye  wad  sae  scarify  him  wi'  his  ain  syllogisms,  as 
no  to  leave  the  silly  Stagyrite*  the  likeness  o'  a  dog. 

Opium-JSater.  Of  the  illiberal  and  illogical — whereas  from  the 
earliest  dawn  of  reason  — 

Shepherd,  Nae  mair  about  it,  sir.     I  ax  your  pardon. 

Opium-Eater.  Mr.  Hogg,  your  mind,  with  all  its  rich  endowments, 
must  be  singularly  illogical  to  conclude 

Shepherd,  Oh!  Mr.  North— Mr.  North -I'm  about  to  fa' into  Mr. 
De  Qu  in  shy's  hauns,  sae  come  to  my  assistance,  for  I  canna  thole 
bein'  pressed  up  backwards,  step  by  step,  intil  a  corner,  till  an  argu- 
ment that's  ca'd  a  clencher,  clashes  in  your  face,  and  knocks  your 
head  wi'  sic  a  force  against  the  wa',  that  your  croon  gets  a  clour, 
leavin'  a  dent  in  the  wainscoat. 

Opium-Eater,  Insulted  sir,  by  your  boorish  breaking*s-in  on  that 
continuous  integrity  of  discourse,  which  must  be  granted  to  each 
speaker,  as  long  as  he  usurps  not  either  time  or  turn  in  conversa- 

*  At  tbe  risk  of  appMring  to  orer-annotata,  I  will  state  that  Aristotle,  tbe  great  fotinder  of 
»>ke  peripatetic  seot  of  philosophen,  vae  born  at  Sta^ra,  in  Thrace,  B.  0.  384.    Henco  his  to- 


Digitized  by 


Google 


THE   BOOmSH   MIND.  468 

tion,  else  dialog  je  loses  both  its  name  and  its  nature,  and  colloquy 
ceases  to  be — the  esse  sunk  in  the  posse — 

Shepherd,  I  never  interruppit  a  man  when  he  was  speakin'  in  a' 
my  born  days,  sir.  Fm  just  remarkable  for  the  verra  contrar,  and 
for  lettiii'  every  body,  baith  Christian  and  Cockney,  prose  awa'  till 
he's  tired,  sittin'  my  sell  as  patient  as  Job,  and  as  dumb's  Diogenes. 

Opium-Eater.  1  hesitate  not  to  affirm,  that  the  Scottish  intellect 
is  degraded  by  an  odious  disputativeness,  which  truth  compels  me 
to  denounce  as  a  national  depravity  or  disease,  and  which  it  is  diffi 
cult — nay,  I  have  found  it  impossible — to  reconcile,  in  belief,  with 
the  pure  possession  of-the  sovereign  reason. 

North.  A  true  bill. 

Opium-Eater,  Thus  private  life,  Scotland  thorough,  is  polluted  by 
the  froth  spurted  from  argumentative  lips,  and  darkened  by  the 
frowns  scowled  from  argumentative  foreheads,  and  deafened  by  the 
noise  grinded  and  grated  from  argumentative  teeth  — 

Shepherd.  Capital — capital — carry  on,  Mr.  De  Quinshy.  I'll  no 
interrupt  ye  — 

Opium-Eater,  While  public  life — witness  Bar,  Bench,  and  Pulpit 

what  is  it  but  one  eternal  harsh,  dull  debate,  in  which  the  under- 

standing,  a  self-sufficient  All-in-All,  swallows  feeling  and  imagina- 
tion up — so  that  when  the  shallow  and  muddy  waters  have  at  night- 
fall been  run  off,  lo !  the  stony  channel  dry,  and  the  meadows  round 

irrigated  say  not— but  corrugated  with  mud-seams — and  the  hopes 

of  the  husbandman  or  shepherd  buried  beneath  an  unseemly  and  un- 
savory deposit  of 

Shepherd.  Stop.  I  say,  stop.  Heard  ye  e'er  o'  Dr.  Chawmers, 
or  Dr.  Thamson,  or  Dr.  Gordon  ?  Oh  ho !  ma  man — that  froon  on 
your  face  says  no ;  but  Fm  no  feared  for  your  froons — ^no  me  indeed 

and  I  just  tell  you,  that  like  a*  the  ither  lakers,  you  pheeloso- 

pheeze  in  the  face  o'  facts— try  to  bend  till  they  break  in  your  verra 
hands  a*  practicals  that  staun  in  the  way  o'  your  ain  theories — begin 
biggin'  gran'  steadins  without  ever  diggin'  ony  foundation — which 
maist  likely  were  ye  to  attempt  doin',  you  would  sune  be  smothered 
in  a  rush  o'  water  and  san* — an'  feenally,  delude  yoursell  intill  the 
belief  that  it's  a  dwallin'-house  o'  granite  or  freestane,  while  all  the 
rest  o'  mankind  see  wi'  half  an  ee  that  it's  composed  o*  clouds  and 
nust,  a  mere  castle  in  the  air,  and  that,  payin*  nae  taxes,  it'll  be 
flaffe'red  awa  to  the  Back  o'  Beyond  outower  the  mountain- taps, 
whenever  Lord  Raise-the-Wind  gets  into  the  government,  and  the 
Duke  o'  Stormaway  becomes  Prime  Minister. 

North,  Noble — noble — my  dear  James.  Yet  Mr.  De  Quincey'a 
charge  against  the  prevailing  character  of  the  national  mind  holds 
with  some  illustrious  exceptions,  good.  We  dig  deep  wells  in  dry 
places— with  costly  enginery  and  a  pompous  display  of  buckets  ; 


Digitized  by 


Google 


464  N0CTK8   AMBBOSIANjK. 

when,  by  using  the  divining  rod  of  instinct  we  might  have  detected 
many  springs  a  few  feet  beneath  the  gowany  greensward — nay,  by 
observing  "  that  inward  eye  that  is  the  bliss  of  solitude,"  have  seen 
flowing  on  the  unsuspected  waters  of  everlasting  life ! 

Shepherd,  Tickler !     What  for  are  you  no  speakin  I 

Tickler.  Bu! 

Shepherd.  What'n  sort  o'  an  answer's  that,  man,  to  a  ceevU 
question? 

Tickler.  Mu! 

Shepherd.  Curious  mainners! — they  may  suit  Southside,  where 
ye're  a  kind  o'  king, or  three-tailed  Bashaw;  but  here,  in  Northside, 
they  dinna  answer,  for  here  every  man's  every  inch  a  king,  and  he 
that  plays  the  tyrant  yonner  must  here  submit  to  sit  the  slave. 

Tickler.  Wha!  toothache — toothache! 

Shepherd.  A  thousan'  pardons,  my  dear  sir  !  Let  me  get  a  red- 
hot  skewer  frae  the  kitchen,  and  burn  the  nerve. 

Opium-Eater,  Neither,  Mr.  Hogg,  can  I  bring  my  mind  to  assent 
to  the  proposition  with  which  you  ushered  in  the  subject  of  our  pre- 
sent discussion  ;  to  wit,  that  Englishmen  are  prone,  as  a  people,  to 
underrate  the  national  virtues  of  Scotchmen.  This  allegation  I  hold 
to  be  the  polar  opposite  of  what  is  true;  nor  can  I  refrain  from 
affirming,  that  manifold  as  are  the  excellencies  of  the  Scottish  char- 
acter, there  is  a  tendency,  which  philosophy  may  not  approve,  in 
the  English  mind — say  rather  the  English  imagination — monstrously 
and  enormously  to  magnify  their  proportions — till  of  the  entire 
frame  and  liinbs  thereof,  thus  rendered  more  than  colossal,  it  may 
be  said,  in  the  language  of  Milton,  "  its  stature  reached  the  sky  ;" 
but  reason  recoils  from  all  such  dim  delusions  of  dream-land,  and 
sees  in  a  Scotchman — no  offence,  I  hope,  gentleman — a  being  appar- 
ently human,  with  sandy  hair — high  cheek  bones — light  blue  eyes — 
wide  mouth — 

Shepherd.  Aiblins  wi'  buck-teeth  like  mine — and  oh !  pray,  do 
tell  us,  sir,  for  we're  verra  ignorant,  and  it's  a  subject  o'  great  im- 
portance, what  sort  o'  a  nose  ? 

Opium-Eater.  The  entire  face  acute,  but  coarse — intelligent,  but 
not  open 

Shepherd.  Like  North's  there— or  Tickler's.  Confound  me  gin  I 
think  there  are  twa  sic  auld  men  in  a'  England,  whether  for  face  or 
feegur ;  as  for  mainners,  when  Tickler's  out  o'  the  toothache,  and 
North's  no  in  the  gout  or  rudiments,  they're  perfect  paragons,  sic  as 
never  were  seen  in  the  South — and  as  for  mind,  ma  faith,  if  ye  oome 
to  that,  where's  their  match  in  a'  your  twal  millions,  though  our 
poppilation's  scarcely  twa,  with  women  and  weans  out  o'  a  propor- 
tion 1 

Opium  Eater.  Nor  can  I  imagine  a  charge — at  once  more  false 


Digitized  by 


Google 


ENGLISH    GLUTTONY.  465 

and  loathsome — than  one  which  I  have  heard  even  you,  Mr.  Hogg, 
more  than  onoe  utter  against  the  English — as  a  people — that  they 
are  slaves  to  the  passion  of  the  palate— epicures  and  gluttons  in  one 
— or  as  the  Scotch  call  it,  sneeringly  and  insultingly — accompany 
ing  the  reproach  with  a  vulgar  laugh,  of  which  the  lowest  birth 
would  be  incapable  but  for  the  lowest  breeding — *^  fond  of  good  eat- 
ing ;" — whereas  I  appeal  to  the  whole  history,  not  of  England  alone, 
but  of  the  world,  in  proof  of  this  simple  proposition — "  that  there 
exists  not,  nor  ever  did  exist,  a  people  comparable  to  the  English, 
in  the  ascendancy  in  their  national  character  of  the  spirituous  over 
the  sensuous,  in  the  due  ordination  of  the  correlates " 

Shepherd.  I  grant  a'  that,  but  still  I  maintain  that  the  English  are 
fonder — prooder  they  canna  be — o'  rost-beef  and  plum-pudden,  than 
the  Scotch  o'  brose  and  haggis — that  they  speak  mair  and  think 
mair — and  muse  and  meditate  atween  meals  mair — and  when  at 
meals,  eat  mair — and  drink  mair — and  wipe  the  sweat  aff  their  fore- 
heads mair — and  gie  every  kind  o*  proof  mair  o'  a  fu'  stamach — 
than  the  Scotch ; — and  in  proof  o'  that  proposition,  alloo  me,  sir, 
also  to  make  an  appeal,  no  to  the  haill  history  o*  the  warld,  but  to 
the  pot-bellies  ane  sees  waddlin'  out  frae  front-doors  as  he  spins 
through  English  toons  and  villages  on  the  top  o'  a  licht  cotch — pot- 
bellies, Mr.  De  Quinshy,  o'  a'  sizes,  frae  the  bouk  o'  my  twa  hauns 
expanded  upon  ane  anither's  finger-nebs — sae,  up  till,  moderately 
speaking,  the  girth  o'  a  hogshead — ^and  no  confined  to  the  men,  but 
extendin'  to  the  women — and,  pity  me,  even  to  the  weans — na,  to 
the  verra  infants  (what  sookers  !)  that  a'  look  as  they  were  crammed 
— instead  o'  wee  piggies — for  the  second  coorse  o'  the  denner  o'  the 
King  o*  the  Cannibals. 

Opium-Eater^  {suavely)  Though  I  pity  your  prejudices,- my  dear 
Shepherd,  I  cannot  but  smile  with  pleasure  at  your  quaint  and  hu- 
morous illustrations. 

Shepherd.  Argument  and  illustration,  sir,  are  a'  ane.  Here's 
anither  doobler.  Nae  &t  wean  bom  in  Scotland  o'  Scotch  parents, 
was  ever  exhibited  as  a  show  in  a  caravan.  Answer  me  that — and 
confute  the  deduction  ?  You  canna.  Again — there  never  was  a 
Scotch  Lambert.  Mercy  on  us — a  Scotchman  fifty-seven  stane 
wecht !  Feenally,  a'  great  eatin'  fates  hae  been  performed  in  Eng- 
land— sic  as  a  beggar  devourin'  at  ae'  meal,  for  a  wager,  atween 
twa  sportin'  characters,  twal  poun'  o'  lichts  and  livers,  ae  pail  o' 
tripe,  and  anither  o'  mashed  turnip  peelin's, — or  a  &rmer  an  equal 
wecht  o'  beef-steaks,  a  peck  plum-pudden,  and  a  guse,  washin  a' 
ower  wi'  twa  imperial  gallons — that's  twal'  bottles — o'  yill. 

Opium-Eater.  A  man  worthy  to  be  admitted — by  acclamation — 
member  of  that  society  whose  sittings  are  designated  by  the  cele- 
brated sound — Noctes  Ambrosianse ! 
Vol.  III.— 31 


Digitized  by 


Google 


4^6  NOCTES    AICBBCJSIAN^. 

Shepherd,  Oh !  Mr.  De  Quinshy,  Mr.  De  Quinshy  !  can  it  be  that 
ye  ken  sae  little  o'  human  natur,  o'  Scotland,  and  o'  yoursell,  as  no 
to  ken  that  this  denner — which  you  wud  bring  forrit  as  a  oowp-de- 
grace  argumentum  at  ony  man  in  proof  o'  the  Scotch  bein'  fonder  o' 
gude  eatin*  than  the  English — was  provided  wi'  a*  its  Coorses — ^no 
abune  the  half  o*  them  come  yet-— entirely,  though  no  exclusively — 

FOR  TOU  1 

Opium- Eater.  For  me  !     Most  monstrous ! 

North.  Poor  people  in  Scotland,  sir — I  do  not  mean  paupers — of 
whom,  in  ordinary  times,  there  are  few — live  almost  on  nothing — 
meal  and  water — nor  do  they  complain  of  a  hard  lot.  The  labor- 
ing classes  in  general,  who  are  not  in  the  same  sense  poor  people, 
feed  not  so  fiilly,  believe  me,  in  Scotland  as  in  England. 

Shepherd.  Nor  sae  frequently  in  ae  day.  Five  times  is  common 
in  England.  In  Scotland,  never  mair  nor  three— often  but  twa — 
and  never  nane  o'  your  pies  and  puddens  !  rarely  flesh-meat,  ex- 
cept  

North.  And  thus,  Mr.  De  Quincey,  as  the  appetites  are  very 
much  habits,  "good  eating,"  among  the  lower  orders  in  Scotland, 
is  an  indulgence  or  enjoyment  never  thought  of  beyond  the  simple 
pleasure  of  the  gratification  of  hunger,  and  of  the  restoration  of  strength 
and  spirits  so  supplied.  Believe  me,  my  dear  sir,  it  is  so ;  whereas 
in  England  it  assuredly  is  otherwise — though  not  to  any  degrading 
pitch  of  sensuality  ;  there  the  laboring  man  enjoys  necessaries  which 
here  we  should  reckon  luxuries  of  life. 

Shepherd.  Pies  !  pies  !  raised  crust  pies !  Puddens !  puddens ! 
rice,  bread,  and  egg  puddens  ! 

North.  The  whole  question  lies  in  a  nutshell.  England  has  long 
been  a  great,  powerful,  rich,  highly-civilized  country,  and  has  equalled, 
if  not  excelled,  all  the  countries  of  modern  Europe  in  all  the  useful 
and  fine  arts,  in  all  the  sciences,  in  all  literature,  and  in  all  philos- 
ophy. Her  men,  as  Campbell,  himself  a  glorious  Scotchman,  has 
nobly  exulted  to  declare,  "are  of  men  the  chief," — as  Wordsworth, 
himself  a  glorious  Englishman,  has  nobly  exulted  to  declare, 

**  Are  BpruDff 
Of  earth's  first  blood,  have  titles  manifold" 

During  her  long  course  of  glory,  she  has  produced  from  her  celestial 
soil  children  of  celestial  seed — unequalled  names — Shakspeare,  Spen- 
ser, Milton j  Newton,  Bacon,  and  other  giants  who  scaled  heaven, 
not  to  storm  it,  but  to  worship  and  adore.  Scotland  has  enjoyed  but 
a  single  century,  it  may  be  said,  of  full  intellectual  light  She  has 
not  slept  nor  slumbered  beneath  the  "  rutili  spatia  ampla  diei,"  but 
uplifled  her  front  in  inspiration  to  the  auspicious  heavens.  Genius, 
too,  has  sprung  fair  and  stately  from  her  soil,  and  eyed  the  stars 


Digitized  by 


Google 


SCOTTISH  eOULPTUEE.  467 

shining  in  fitful  beauty  through  her  midnight  storms.  She  too  has 
had,  and  has,  her  poets  and  philosophers — '*  a  glorious  train  attend 
ing ;''  transfigured  by  the  useful  arts,  her  old  mountains  shout  aloud 
for  joy — the  fine  arts  have  wreathed  round  the  brows  of  her  cities  a 
towery  diadem,  and  filled  with  lovely  imagery  her  halls  and  tem- 
ples "  Science  has  frowned  not  on  her  humble  birth," — while  Re- 
ligion, the  source  of  the  highest  inspiration,  loves  her  blue  skies  and 
green  fields  with  an  especial  love. 

Shepherd,  Stop.  Ye  canna  impruv'  that — and  it's  God's  truth 
every  word  o't — is  na't,  Mr.  De  Quinshy  ? 

Opium-Eater.  Will  you  accept  from  me,  Mr.  North,  an  essay  to 
be  entitled,  *'  Comparative  Estimate  of  the  English  and  Scotch  Char- 
acter?" 

North,  My  dear  sir,  when  did  I  ever  decline  an  article  of  yours  ? 

Shepherd,  Faith,  he  seldom  gies  ye  an  opportunity — about  twice, 
may  be,  in  three  years. 

North,  Why,  Scotland  is  making  great  strides  even  in  sculpture. 
Gibson*  and  Campbell  are  the  most  eminent  young  sculptors  now  in 
Rome.  Secular  and  Steele  are  following  in  their  footsteps.  At 
home,  Fletcher  shows  skill,  taste  and  genius — and  Lawrence  Mac- 
donald,  equal  to  any  one  of  them,  if  not,  indeed,  superior  to  them 
all — after  displaying  in  groups  or  single  figures,  of  diildren,  "  boys 
and  virgins,'*  and  maidens  in  their  innocent  prime,  a  finest  sense  of 
beauty  and  of  grace,  that  kindles  human  tenderness  by  touches  of  the 
ideal  and  divine — has  lately  nobly  dared  to  take  a  flight  up  to  a 
higher  sphere,  and  in  his  Ajax  and  Patroclus,  his  Thetis  and  Achilles, 
essayed,  and  with  success  that  will  soon  spread  wide  his  fame,  the 
heroic  in  art,  such  as  gave  visible  existence  in  Greece  to  her  old  tra- 
ditions— and  peopled  the  groves  and  gardens,  and  pillared  porticoes 
of  Athens,  with  gods  and  demigods,  the  tutelary  genii  of  the  Acro- 
polis on  her  unconquered  hill. 

Shepherd,  That's  beautifu'.  You  maun  gie  us  an  article  on  Sculp- 
ture. 

North,  1  will — ^indudinc  a  critical  account  of  those  extraordinary 
works  of  two  original,  self-taught  geniuses,  Thom  and  Greenshields 
— ^Tam  o'Shanter  and  Souter  Johnny — and  the  Jolly  Beggars.  The 
kingdom  of  all  the  Fine  Arts  have  many  provinces — why  not  Sculp- 
ture? 

Shepherd,  Aye,  why  nol 

North,  The  6reek  Tragedy,  James,  was  austere,  in  its  principles, 
as  the  Greek  Sculpture.  Its  subjects  were  all  of  ancestral  and  relig- 
ious consecration  ;  its  style,  high,  and  heroic,  and  divine,  admitted 
no  intermixture  even  of  mirth,  or  seldom  and  reluctantly,  much  less 
of  grotesque  and  fantastic  extravagancies  of  humor, — which  would 

*  Oibaon  happ«nM  to  b«a  natire  of  Gyffyn,  near  Convay,  North  Wales.— M. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


468  NO0TE8  AMBBOBIAKJB. 

haye  marred  the  consummate  dignity,  beauty,  and  magnificence  of 
all  the  scenes  that  swept  along  that  enchanted  floor.  Such  was  the 
spirit  that  shone  on  the  sofl  and  the  stately  Sophocles.  But  Shaks- 
peare  came  from  heaven — and  along  with  him  a  Tragedy  that  poured 
into  one  cup  the  tears  of  mirth  and  madness ;  showed  kings  one  day 
crowned  with  jewelled  diadems,  and  another  day  with  wild  wisps  of 
straw ;  taught  the  Prince  who,  in  single  combat, 

**  Had  qnench'd  the  flame  of  hot  rebellion 
Even  in  the  rebela*  blood,* 

to  moralize  on  the  field  of  battle  over  the  carcass  of  a  fat  buflbon, 
wittily  simulating  death  among  the  bloody  corpses  of  English  nobles ; 
nay,  showed  the  son — and  that  son,  prince,  philosopher,  paragon  of 
men — jocularly  conjuring  to  rest  hb  father's  ghost  who  had  revisited 
earth  ^^  by  the  glimpses  of  the  moon,  making  night  hideous.'* 

Shepherd,  Stop— stop — sir.  That's  aneuch  to  prove  your  pint 
Therefore,  let  the  range  o'  sculpture  be  extended,  so  as  to  compre 
hend  sic  subjects  as  Tam  O'Shanter  and  Souter  Johnny* — ^The  Jolly 
Beggars — - 

North.  Well,  James.  Of  this  more  hereafter.  You  see  my 
drift. 

Shepherd.  Isna  Gait's  Lawrie  Todd  indeed  maist  amusin'  1 

North.  It  is  indeed  ; — our  friend's  genius  is  as  rare  and  original 
as  ever — the  field,  too,  he  treads,  is  all  his  own — and  it  has  yielded 
a  rich  harvest.  By  the  way,  the  Editor  of  the  Monthly  Review  is 
a  singular  person.  He  thinks  Sir  Walter  Scott's  History  of  Scot- 
land meagre,  feeble,  and  inaccurate ;  John  Bowring  no  linguist,  and 
a  mere  quack  of  no  talents ;  Gait  he  declares  he  never,  till  very 
lately,  heard  of;  and  the  double  number  of  Blackwood's  Magasine 
for  1  ebruary  was,  in  his  opinion,  dull,  stupid,  and 

Shepherd,  O  the  coof !  who  is  he  1 

North.  For  fourteen  years,  Jamee,  he  was  hermit  to  Lord  Hill's 
father. 

Shepherd.  £h1 

North.  He  sat  in  a  cave  in  that  worthy  Baronet's  grounds,!  with 
an  hour-glass  in  his  hand,  and  a  beard  once  belonging  to  an  old  goat 

*  Mr.  Thorn  was  &  wlf-Uaght  Scottish  toulptor.  -who  ent  th«  ftgoTM  of  Tun  O^Shanftw  aad 
Boater  Johnny  out  of  free-ttone.  and  won  the  world's  applause,  by  snatching  **  a  grace  beyond 
the  rulea  of  Art,"  when   he  exhibited  them.    John   Greenshields,  a  stone  mason,  took  np  the 


sculptor's  chisel,  at  the  age  of  twenty-eight,  and  produced  a  statue  of  the  late  Duke  of  York, 
which  was  profitably  exhibited  in  Edinburgh.  A  statue  of  George  lY.  was  his  next  and  not 
inferior  work.  Scott  made  his  aoquaiotance  in  1829,  and  saw  him  again  in  1831.  The  result 
was  a  statue  of  Scott,  in  a  sitting  posture,  which,  bearing  the  inscription  8ic  Sbdebat.  was  to 
be  seen,  when  last  it  met  my  view,  in  the  premises,  St.  Andrew's  Square,  Edinburgh,  oecn- 
pied  by  Cadeli,  Scott's  publisher.  Under  the  same  roof  was  the  greater  portion  of  Ui6  orici- 
nal  manuscript  of  Soott^s  poems  and  romances.  Bacon's  effigy  at  St.  Albans  supplied  the  in- 
scription.   Greenshields  died  in  April  1836,  aged  forty.— M 

t  There  really  was  such  a  cave,  and  such  a  hermit  (several  of  the  latter  indeed)  at  Hawkstonoi 
the  seat  of  the  Hill  family  in  Shropshire. — II. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


THB  HBBMIT.  469 

—from  sunrise  to  sunset — with  strict  injunctions  to  accept  no  half- 
crowns  from  visitors — but  to  behave  like  Giordano  Bruno. 

Shepherd,  That's  curious.  Wha  had  the  selection  o'  him — think 
ye  ?  But  what's  this  I  was  gaun  to  say  f  Ou,  aye — beard  ye  ever 
knowles's  Lectures  on  Dramatic  Poetry  ? 

North,  I  have.  They  are  admirable— full  of  matter— elegantly 
written,  and  eloquently  delivered.  Knowles  is  a  delightful  fellow 
and  a  man  of  true  genius. 

The  Home  sound  for  the  Fifth  Course — "  The  Oloomy  Nicht  is 
gatherin*  fast^  Enter  Picardy,  dtc.  The  Pipe  is  abstracted 
-^the  Gas  Orrery  extinguished— and  a  strange  hubbub  heard 
in  the  north, — Finis, 


SKD  07  VOL.  m. 


Digitized  by 


Google 


/i 


'/ 


Digitized  by 


Google 


Digitized  by 


Google 


Digitized  by 


Google 


Digitized  by 


Google 


Digitized  by 


Google 


^ 


Digitized  by 


Google