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Of papers hung-[wipes his eyes]-collected in her | And the fresh Spirit, that can warble free,

veil

The venal evidence, the slanderous tale,
The wounding hint, the current lies that pass
From Post to Courier, form'd the motley mass;
Which, with disdain, before the throne she throws,
And lights the pile beneath thy princely nose.

[Weeps.]
Heavens, how it blaz'd!-I'd ask no livelier fire
[with animation] To roast a Papist by, my gracious

Sire!

Through prison-bars, its hymn to Liberty!

The Scene next changes to a tailor s work-shop, and a fancifully-arranged group of these artists is discovered upon the shop-board; their task evidently of a royal nature, from the profusion of gold-lace, frogs, etc. that lie about. They all rise and come forward, while one of them sings the following stanzas, to the tune of "Derry Down."

My brave brother tailors, come, straighten your knees,

But ah! the Evidence-[weeps again] I mourn'd to For a moment, like gentlemen, stand up at ease,

see

Cast, as it burn'd, a deadly light on thee!

And Tales and Hints their random sparkles flung,
And hiss'd and crackled like an old maid's tongue;
While Post and Courier, faithful to their fame,
Made up in stink for what they lack'd in flame!
When, lo, ye gods!—the fire, ascending brisker,
Now singes one, now lights the other whisker!—
Ah! where was then the Sylphid, that unfurls
Her fairy standard in defence of curls?
Throne, whiskers, wig, soon vanish'd into smoke,
The watchman cried "past one," and-I awoke.

While I sing of our P-E (and a fig for his railers,)
The Shop-board's delight! the Mæcenas of Tailors!
Derry down, down, down derry down.

Some monarchs take roundabout ways into note,
But his short cut to fame is-the cut of his coat;
Philip's son thought the world was too small for his
soul,

While our R-G-T's finds room in a laced button
hole!

Derry down, etc.

Look through all Europe's Kings-at least, those who
go loose-

Not a King of them all 's such a friend to the Goose
So, God keep him increasing in size and renown,
Still the fattest and best-fitted P-E about town!
Derry down, etc.

Here his Lordship weeps more profusely than ever, and the R-G-T (who has been very much agitated during the recital of the dream,) by a movement as characteristic as that of Charles XII. when he was shot, claps his hands to his whiskers to feel if all be During the "Derry down" of this last verse, a really safe. A privy council is held-all the servants, etc. are examined, and it appears that a tailor who had messenger from the S-c-t-y of Se's Office come to measure the R-G-T for a dress (which rushes on, and the singer (who, luckily for the effect takes three whole pages of the best superfine clin- of the scene, is the very tailor suspected of the mysquant in describing,) was the only person who had terious fragments) is interrupted in the midst of his been in the Bourbon chamber during the day. It is accordingly determined to seize the tailor, and the council breaks up with a unanimous resolution to be vigorous.

The commencement of the second Act turns chiefly upon the trial and imprisonment of two brothers; but as this forms the under plot of the drama, I shall content myself with extracting from it the following speech, which is addressed to the two brothers, as they "exeunt severally" to prison :

Go to your prisons-though the air of spring
No mountain coolness to your cheeks shall bring;
Though summer flowers shall pass unseen away,
And all your portion of the glorious day
May be some solitary beam that falls,
At morn or eve, upon your dreary walls-
Some beam that enters, trembling as if awed,
To tell how gay the young world laughs abroad!
Yet go-for thoughts, as blessed as the air
Of spring, or summer flowers, await you there;
Thoughts, such as he, who feasts his courtly crew
In rich conservatories, never knew!
Pure self-esteem-the smiles that light within-
The Zeal, whose circling charities begin
With the few loved-ones Heaven has placed it near,
Nor cease, till all mankind are in its sphere!—
The Pride, that suffers without vaunt or plea,

laudatory exertions, and hurried away, to the no small surprise and consternation of his comrades. The Plot now hastens rapidly in its developement-the management of the tailor's examination is highly skilful, and the alarm which he is made to betray is natural without being ludicrous. The explanation, too, which he finally gives, is not more simple than satisfactory. It appears that the said fragments formed part of a self-exculpatory note, which he had intended to send to Colonel M'MN upon subjects purely professional, and the corresponding bits (which still lie luckily in his pocket,) being produced, and skilfully laid beside the others, the following billet-doux is the satisfactory result of their juxta position: Honoured Colonel-my WIFE, who's the QUEEN of all slatterns,

NEGLECTED to put up THE BOOK of new patterns She sent the WRONG MEASURES too-shamefully wrong

They're the same used for poor Mr. LAMBERT, when

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CASTIGLIONE.

at my lodgings, 245, Piccadilly, I shall have the ho nour of assuring them, in propria persona, that I amhis, or her,

Very obedient and very humble servant, THOMAS BROWN, THE YOUNGER. April 17, 1818.

THE

FUDGE FAMILY IN PARIS.

LETTER I.

FROM MISS BIDDY FUDGE TO MISS DOROTHY OF CLONSKILTY, IN IRELAND.

Amiens.

DEAR Doll, while the tails of our horses are plaiting
The trunks tying on, and Papa, at the door,
Into very bad French is, as usual, translating

His English resolve not to give a sou more,
I sit down to write you a line-only think!-
A letter from France, with French pens and French

I

ink,

How delightful! though, would you believe it, my

dear?

have seen nothing yet very wonderful here; No adventure, no sentiment, far as we've come, But the corn-fields and trees quite as dull as at home; And, but for the post-boy, his boots and his queue, might just as well be at Clonskilty with you! In vain, at DESSEIN's, did I take from my trunk That divine fellow, STERNE, and fall reading "The

I

THE FUDGE FAMILY IN PARIS.

Le Leggi della Maschera richiedono che una persona mascherata non sia salutata per nome da uno che la conosce malgrado il suo travestimento.

PREFACE.

GH,

In what manner the following epistles came into my hands, it is not necessary for the public to know. It will be seen by Mr. FUDGE's second letter, that he is one of those gentlemen whose secret services in Ireland, under the mild ministry of my Lord Chave been so amply and gratefully remunerated. Like his friend and associate, THOMAS REYNOLDS, Esq. he had retired upon the reward of his honest industry; but has lately been induced to appear again in active life, and superintend the training of that Delatorian Cohort, which Lord S-DM-TH, in his wisdom and benevolence, has organized.

Whether Mr. FUDGE, himself, has yet made any discoveries, does not appear from the following pages;—but much may be expected from a person of nis zeal and sagacity, and, indeed, to him, Lord S-DM-TH, and the Greenland-bound ships, the eyes of all lovers of discoveries are now most anxiously directed.

I regret that I have been obliged to omit Mr. BOB FUDGE's third letter, concluding the adventures of his Day, with the Dinner, Opera, etc. etc.-but, in consequence of some remarks upon Marinette's thin drapery, which, it was thought, might give offence to certain well-meaning persons, the manuscript was sent back to Paris for his revision, and had not returned when the last sheet was put to press.

It will not, I hope, be thought presumptuous, if I take this opportunity of complaining of a very serious injustice I have suffered from the public. Dr. KING wrote a treatise to prove that BENTLEY "was not the author of his own book," and a similar absurdity has been asserted of me, in almost all the best informed literary circles. With the name of the real author staring them in the face, they have yet persisted in attributing my works to other people; and the fame of the Twopenny Post Bag-such as it is having hovered doubtfully over various persons, has at last settled upon the head of a certain little gentleman, who wears it, I understand, as complacently as if it actually belonged to him; without even the honesty of avowing, with his own favourite author, (he will excuse the pun)

Εγω δ' Ο ΜΩΡΟΕ αράς

Εδησαμην μετωπω.

Monk!"

In vain did I think of his charming dead Ass,
And remember the crust and the wallet-alas!
No monks can be had now for love or for money
(All owing, Pa says, to that infidel BONEY ;)
And, though one little Neddy we saw in our drive
Out of classical Nampont, the beast was alive!
By the bye, though, at Calais, Papa had a touch
Of romance on the pier, which affected me much.
At the sight of that spot, where our darling
Set the first of his own dear legitimate feet1
(Modell'd out so exactly, and-God bless the mark!-
'Tis a foot, Dolly, worthy so Grand a M****que,)

*****

1 To commemorate the landing of ***** ** ***** from England, the impression of his foot is marked on the pier at I can only add, that if any lady or gentleman, cu-Calais, and a pillar with an inscription raised opposite to rious in such matters, will take the trouble of calling the spot.

ping eye,

He exclaim'd "Oh mon R**!" and, with tear-drop- | And prove to mankind that their rights are but folly, Their freedom a joke (which it is, you know, DOLLY) "There's none," said his Lordship, "if I may be judge,

Stood to gaze on the spot-while some Jacobin, nigh,
Mutter'd out with a shrug (what an insolent thing!)
"Ma foi, he be right-'tis de Englishman's K**g;
And dat gros pied de cochon-begar, me vil say,
Dat de foot look mosh better, if turn'd toder way."
There's the pillar, too-Lord! I had nearly forgot-Settles all for his quarto-advertisements, praises—

What a charming idea!--raised close to the spot;
The mode being now (as you've heard, I suppose)
To build tombs over legs,' and raise pillars to toes.
This is all that's occurr'd sentimental as yet;
Except, indeed, some little flower-nymphs we've met,
Who disturb one's romance with pecuniary views,
Flinging flowers in your path, and then bawling for

sous!

And some picturesque beggars, whose multitudes seem
To recall the good days of the ancien regime,
All as ragged and brisk, you'll be happy to learn,
And as thin as they were in the time of dear STERNE.
Our party consists, in a neat Calais job,
Of papa and myself, Mr. CONNOR and BOB.
You remember how sheepish BoB look'd at Kilrandy,
But, Lord! he's quite alter'd--they've made him a
Dandy

Half so fit for this great undertaking as FUDGE!"'
The matter's soon settled-Pa flies to the Row
(The first stage your tourists now usually go,)

Starts post from the door, with his tablets-French
phrases-

"SCOTT's Visit," of course-in short, every thing he
has

An author can want, except words and ideas :—
And, lo! the first thing in the spring of the year,
Is PHIL. FUDGE at the front of a Quarto, my dear!
But, bless me, my paper 's near out, so I'd better
Draw fast to a close-this exceeding long letter
You owe to a dejeuner a la Fourchette,
Which BOBBY Would have, and is hard at it yet.-
What's next? oh, the tutor, the last of the party,
Young CONNOR :-they say he's so like BoN****TE,
His nose and his chin,-which Papa rather dreads,
As the B*****N's, you know, are suppressing all heads
That resemble old NAP's, and who knows but their

honours

May think, in their fright, of suppressing poor Con
NOR'S ?

A thing, you know, whisker'd, great-coated, and laced,
Like an hour-glass, exceedingly small in the waist:
Quite a new sort of creatures, unknown yet to scho-Au reste (as we say,) the young lad 's well enough,

lars,

With heads so immoveably stuck in shirt-collars, That seats like our music-stools soon must be found them,

To twirl, when the creatures may wish to look round
them!

In short, dear, "a Dandy" describes what I mean,
And BoB's far the best of the genus I've seen:
An improving young man, fond of learning, ambitious,
And goes now to Paris to study French dishes,
Whose names-think, how quick!-he already knows
pat,

A la braise, petits patets, and-what d'ye call that
They inflict on potatoes? oh! maitre d'hotel-
I assure you, dear DOLLY, he knows them as well
As if nothing but these all his life he had ate,
Though a bit of them BOBBY has never touch'd yet;
But just knows the names of French dishes and cooks,
As dear Pa knows the titles and authors of books.

Only talks much of Athens, Rome, virtue, and stuff';
A third cousin of ours, by the way-poor as Job
(Though of royal descent by the side of Mamma,)
And for charity made private tutor to BoB-
Entre nous, too, a Papist-how liberal of Pa!
This is all, dear,-forgive me for breaking off thus ;
But BOB's dejeuner's done, and Papa's in a fuss.
B. F.

P. S.

How provoking of Pa! he will not let me stop
Just to run in and rummage some milliner's shop;
And my debut in Paris, I blush to think on it,
Must now,
DOLL, be made in a hideous low bonnet
But Paris, dear Paris-oh, there will be joy,
And romance, and high bonnets, and Madame Lx
Roi!'

LETTER IL

-H.

As to Pa, what d'ye think?-mind it's all entre nous, FROM PHIL. FUDGE, ESQ. TO THE LORD VISCOUNT
But you know, love, I never keep secrets from you-
Why he's writing a book-what! a tale? a romance?
No, ye gods, would it were!-but his Travels in

France;

At the special desire (he let out t' other day)
Of his friend and his patron, my Lord C-TL-R-GH,
Who said, "My dear FUDGE" I forget th' exact
words,

And, it's strange, no one ever remembers my Lord's;
But 'twas something to say, that, as all must allow,
A good orthodox work is much wanting just now,
To expound to the world the new-thingummie-
science,

Found out by the--what's-its-name-Holy A*****ce,

1 Ci-gît la jambe de, etc. etc.

AT length, my Lord, I have the bliss
To date to you a line from this
"Demoralized" metropolis;
Where, by plebeians low and scurvy,
The throne was turn'd quite topsy-turvy,
And Kingship, tumbled from its seat,
"Stood prostrate" at the people's feet;
Where (still to use your Lordship's tropes)
The level of obedience slopes
Upward and downward, as the stream
Of hydra faction kicks the beam!2

1 A celebrated mantua-maker in Paris.

Paris.

2 This excellent imitation of the noble Lord's style shows how deeply Mr. Fudge must have studied his great original

Where the poor palace changes masters
Quicker than a snake its skin,
And ***** is rolled out on castors
While *****'s, borne on shoulders in:
But where, in every change, no doubt,
One special good your Lordship traces,-
That 't is the Kings alone turn out,

And Ministers still keep their places.

-GH,

How oft, dear Viscount C-
I've thought of thee upon the way,
As in my job (what place could be
More apt to wake a thought of thee?)
Or, oftener far, when gravely sitting
Upon my dickey (as is fitting

For him who writes a Tour, that he
May more of men and manners see,)
I've thought of thee and of thy glories,
Thou guest of Kings, and King of Tories!
Reflecting how thy fame has grown

And spread, beyond man's usual share, At home, abroad, till thou art known,

Like Major SEMPLE, every where !
And marvelling with what powers of breath
Your Lordship, having speech'd to death
Some hundreds of your fellow-men,

Next speech'd to Sovereigns' ears, and when
All sovereigns else were dozed, at last
Speech'd down the Sovereign' of Belfast.
Oh! 'mid the praises and the trophies
Thou gain'st from Morosophs and Sophis,
'Mid all the tributes to thy fame,

+

There's one thou shouldst be chiefly pleased at-
That Ireland gives her snuff thy name,
And C

-GH's the thing now sneezed at!

But hold, my pen!-a truce to praising-
Though even your Lordship will allow
The theme's temptations are amazing;
But time and ink run short, and now
(As thou would'st say, my guide and teacher
In these gay metaphoric fringes,)

I must embark into the feature

On which this letter chiefly hinges ;2—
My Book, the Book that is to prove-
And will, so help me Sprites above,
That sit on clouds, as grave as judges,
Watching the labours of the FUDGES!-
Will prove that all the world, at present,
Is in a state extremely pleasant:
That Europe-thanks to royal swords

And bayonets, and the Duke commanding-

ties. Thus the eloquent Counsellor B

Enjoys a peace which, like the Lord's,
Passeth all human understanding:
That F***ce prefers her go-cart ****
To such a coward scamp as *****
Though round, with each a leading-string,
There standeth many a R*y*l crony,
For fear the chubby, tottering thing

Should fall, if left there loney-poney:
That England, too, the more her debts,
The more she spends, the richer gets;
And that the Irish, grateful nation!

Remember when by thee reign'd over,
And bless thee for their flagellation,
As HELOISA did her lover!1
That Poland, left for Russia's lunch,

Upon the side-board snug reposes;
While Saxony's as pleased as Punch,

And Norway "on a bed of roses!"
That, as for some few million souls,

Transferr'd by contract, bless the clods!
If half were strangled-Spaniards, Poles,

And Frenchmen-'t would n't make much odds,
So Europe's goodly Royal ones

Sit easy on their sacred thrones;
So FERDINAND embroiders gaily,
And ***** eats his salmia2 daily;

So time is left to Emperor SANDY
To be half Cæsar and half Dandy;

And G-GE the R-G-T (who'd forget
That doughtiest chieftain of the set?)
Hath wherewithal for trinkets new,

For dragons, after Chinese models,

And chambers where Duke Ho and Soo

Might come and nine times knock their noddles! -
All this my Quarto 'll prove-much more
Than Quarto ever proved before-

In reasoning with the Post I'll vie,
My facts the Courier shall supply,
My jokes V-NS-T, P-LE my sense,
And thou, sweet Lord, my eloquence!
My Journal, penn'd by fits and starts,

On BIDDY'S back or BOBBY's shoulder,
(My son, my Lord, a youth of parts,

Who longs to be a small place-holder,)
Is-though I say 't that should n't say―
Extremely good; and, by the way,
One extract from it-only one-
To show its spirit, and I've done.

"Jul. thirty-first. Went, after snack,
To the cathedral of St. Denny;
Sigh'd o'er the kings of ages back,
And-gave the old concierge a penny!

Irish oratory, indeed, abounds with such startling peculiari-(Mem.--Must see Rheims, much famed, 'tis said,
in de- For making kings and gingerbread.)
scribing some hypocritical pretender to charity, said "He Was shown the tomb where lay, so stately,
put his hand in his breeches pocket, like a crocodile, and," A little B***bon, buried lately,

etc. etc.

1 The title of the chief magistrate of Belfast, before whom his Lordship (with the "studium immane loquendi" attributed by Ovid to that chattering and rapacious class of birds, the pies) delivered sundry long and self-gratulatory orations, on his return from the Continent. It was at one of these Irish dinners that his gallant brother Lord S. proposed the health of "The best cavalry oflicer in Europethe Regent!"

2 Verbatim from one of the noble Viscount's speeches"And now, Sir, I must embark into the feature on which this question chiefly hinges."

Thrice high and puissant, we were told,
Though only twenty-four hours old!3
Hear this, thought I, ye jacobins;
Ye Burdetts tremble in your skins!

1 See her Letters.

2 Όψα τε, οια εδουσι διατρέφει βασιλήες.

3 So described on the coffin. Princesse, âgée d'un jour."

Homer, Odyss. 3. "très-haute et puissante

a

FROM MR. BOB FUDGE TO RICHARD

If R**alty, but aged a day,

Where for hail they have bons-bons, and claret for rain, Can boast such high and puissant sway,

And the skaiters in winter show off on cream-ice; What impious hand its power would fix,

Where so ready all nature its cookery yields, Full fledged and wigg’d,' at fifty-six ?"

Macaroni au parmesan grows in the fields ; The argument 's quite new, you see,

Little birds fly about with the true pheasant taint, And proves exactly Q. E. D.

And the geese are all born with a liver complaint !! So now, with duty to the R-g-,

I rise-put on neck-cloth--stiff, tight as can beI am, dear Lord,

For, a lad who goes into the world, Dick, like me, Your most obedient,

Should have his neck tied up, you know—there's no P. F.

doubt of it

Almost as tight as some lads who go out of it. Hotel Breteuil, Rue Rivoli.

With whiskers well oil'd, and with boots that“ hold up Neat lodgings--rather dear for me;

The mirror te nature"-so bright you could sup But Biddy said she thought 't would look Genteeler thus to date my book,

Off the leather like china; with coat, too, that draws And Biddy's right-besides, it curries

On the tailor, who suffers, a martyr's applause !-Some favour with our friends at Murray's,

With head bridled up, like a four-in-hand leader, Who scorn what any man can say,

And stays--devil's in them--too tight for a feeder, "That dates from Rue St. Honoré.2

I strut to the old Café Hardy, which yet
Beats the field at a déjeûner à la fourchette.
There, Dick, what a breakfast!-oh, not like yourghost

Of a breakfast in England, your curst tea and toast;
LETTER III.

But a side-board, you dog, where one's eye roves about,

Like a Turk's in the Haram, and thence singles out ESQ.

One's pâté of larks, just to tune up the throat O Dick! you may talk of your writing and reading, One's small limbs of chickens, done en papillote, Your logic and Greek, but there is nothing like feeding; One's erudite cutlets, drest all ways but plain, And this is the place for it, Dicky, you dog, Or one's kidney-imagine, Dick—done with chamOf all places on earth-the head.quarters of prog.

pagne ! Talk of England, --her famed Magna Charta, Iswear, is Then some glasses of Beaune, to dilute-or, mayhap, A humbug, a flam, to the Carte3 at old Véry's; Chambertin, which you know's the pet tipple of Nap, And as for your Jurieswho would not set o'er 'em And which Dad, by the by, that legitimate stickler, A jury of tasters, 4 with woodcocks before 'em?

Much scruples to taste, but I'm not so partic'lar.Give Cartwright his parliaments fresh every year- You coffee comes next, by prescription; and then But those friends of short Commons would never do

Dick, 's

The coffee's ne'er-failing and glorious appendixAnd let Romilly speak as he will on the question, (If books had but such, my old Grecian, depend on 't No digest of law 's like the laws of digestion ! I'd swallow even W-TK-N's, for sake of the end By the bye, Dick, I fatten—but n'importe for that,

on 't) 'T is the mode—your legitimates always get fat;

A neat glass of parfait-amour, which one sips There 's the R--G-T, there 's ****'s—and B*n*y Just as if bottled velvet' tipp'd over one's lips !

This repast being ended, and paid for—(how odd! But, though somewhat imperial in paunch, 'twouldn't

Till a man 's used to paying there 's something so

queer in it)He improved, indeed, much in this point when he wed, The sun now well out, and the girls all abroad, But he ne'er grew right r*y*lly fat in the head.

And the world enough air’d'for us, Nobs, to apDick, Dick, what a place is this Paris !-but stay-

We lounge up the Boulevards, where-oh Dick, the As my raptures may bore you, I'll just sketch a day,

phizzes, As we pass it, myself, and some comrades l've got, All thorough-bred Gnostics, who know what is what. Here toddles along some old figure of fun,

The turn-outs, we meet-what a nation of quizzes ! After dreaming some hours of the land of Cocaigne, With a coat you might date Anno Domini One; That Elysium of all that is friand and nice, A laced hat, worsted stockings, and--noble old soul!-

A fine ribbon and cross in his best button-hole; 1 There is a fulness and breadth in this portrait of Royalty, which reminds us of what Pliny says, in speaking of Ira- Just such as our PR-E, who nor reason nor fun dreads, jan's great qualities :—"nonne longe' lateque Principem Inflicts, without even a court-martial, on hundreds.* ostentant?"

2 See the Quarterly Review for May, 1816, where Mr. 1 The process by which the liver of the unfortunate goose Hobhouse is accused of having written his book“ in a back is enlarged, in order to produce that richest of all dainties, street of the French capital."

the foie gras, of which such renowned påtés are made at 3 The bill of Fare.- Véry, a well-known Restaurateur. Strasbourg and Toulouse, is thus described in the Cours

4 Mr. Bob alludes particularly, I presume, to the famous Gastronomique :-On déplume l'estomac des oies; on Jury Dégustateur, which used to assemble at the Hotel of attache ensuite ces animaux aux chenets d'une cheminée, et M. Grimod de la Reynière, and of which this modern on les nourrit devant le feu. La captivité et la chaleur donnent Archestratus has given an account in his Almanach des à ces volatiles une maladie hépatique, qui fait gonfler leur Gourmands, cinquième année, p. 78.

foie,” etc. p. 206. 5 The fairy-land of cookery and gourmandise;" Pays, où 2 'The favourite wine of Napoleon. le ciel offre les viandes toutes cuites, et où, comme on parle, 3 Velours en bouteille. les alouettes tombeut toutes roties. Du Latin, coquere." 4 It was said by Wicquefort, more than a hundred years Dachat.

ago, "Le Roi d'Angleterre fait seul plus de chevaliers que

here;

tried too;

do:

pear in 't,

5

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