LETTER VII. Page 133.

The Manuscript, which I found in the Bookseller's Letter, is a Melo-Drama, in two Acts, entitled «THE Book, of which the Theatres, of course, had had the refusal, before it was presented to Messrs. L-ck-ng1-n and Co.-This rejected Drama, however, possesses considerable merit, and I shall take the liberty of laying a sketch of it before my Readers.

The first Act opens in a very awful manner:-) -Time, three o'clock in the morning-Scene, the Bourbon Chamber in C-r-lt-n House-Enter the P--E R-G-T solus. After a few broken sentences, he thus exclaims:

Away-away

Thou haunt'st my fancy so, thou devilish Book!
I meet thee-trace thee, wheresoe'er I look.
I see thy damned ink in ELD-N's brows-

I see thy foolscap on my H-RTF-D's Spouse-
V-NS-TT's head recals thy leathern case,

And all thy blank-leaves stare from R-D-R's face!
While, turning here [laying his hand on his heart]
find, ah wretched elf!

Thy List of dire Errata in myself.

[Walks the stage in considerable agitation.]
Oh Roman Punch! oh potent Curaçoa!
Oh Mareschino! Mareschino ol!

Delicious drams! why have you not the art
To kill this gnawing Book-worm in my heart?

He is here interrupted in his Soliloquy by perceiving some scribbled fragments of paper on the ground, which he collects, and << by the light of two magnificent candelabras discovers the following unconnected words -a Wife neglected»-« the Book»-« Wrong Measures» - the Queen»-« Mr Lambert»-« the R-G-T.»

Ha! treason in my House!-Curst words, that wither
My princely soul [shaking the papers violently], what
Demon brought you hither?

" to maintain the becoming splendour of his office.» The R-G-T produces the appalling fragments, upon which the CH-NC-LL-R breaks out into exclamations of loyalty and tenderness, and relates the following portentous dream:

T is scarcely two hours since

I had a fearful dream of thee, my P---
Methought I heard thee, midst a courtly crowd,
Say from thy throne of gold, in mandate loud,
« Worship my whiskers!»-[weeps] not a knee was
there

But bent and worshipp'd the Illustrious Pair
That curl'd in conscious majesty! [pulls out his hand-
kerchief-while cries

Of a Whiskers! whiskers!» shook the echoing skies!-
Just in that glorious hour, methought, there came,
With looks of injured pride, a Princely Dame,
And a young maiden clinging to her side,
As if she feared some tyrant would divide
The hearts that nature and affection tied!
The Matron came-within her right hand glow'd
A radiant torch; while from her left a load
Of Papers hung-[wipes his eyes]-collected in her 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 blazed!-I'd ask no livelier fire
[with animation] To roast a Papist by, my gracious Sire!-
But ah! the Evidence-[weeps again] I mourn'd to 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-

My wife!»-« the Book,» too!-stay-a nearer look-Ah! where was then the Sylphid, that unfurls
[Holding the fragments closer to the Candelabras]
Alas! too plain, B, double O, K, BOOK-

Death and destruction!

He here rings all the bells, and a whole legion of Valets enter-A scene of cursing and swearing (very much in the German style) ensues, in the course of which messengers are dispatched, in different directions, for the L-RD CH-NC-LL-R, the D-E of C-B-L-D, etc. etc.-The intermediate time is filled up by another Soliloquy, at the conclusion of which the aforesaid Personages rush on alarmed-the D-E with his stays only half-laced, and the CB-NC-LLOR with his wig thrown hastily over an old red night-cap,

There was a mysterious Book, in the 16th Century, which employed all the anxious curiosity of the Learned of that day-Every one spoke of it, many wrote against it; though it does not appear that any body had ever seen it; and indeed Grotius is of opinion that no such book ever existed. It was entitled Liber de tribus impostoribus. (See Morhof. Cap. de Libris damnatis.)-Our more modera mystery of the Book resembles this is many particulars; and, if the number of Lawyers employed in drawing it up be stated correctly, a slight alteration of the title into a tribas impostoribus would produce a coincidence altogether very remarkable.

* The Chamber, I suppose, which was prepared for the reception of the Bourbons at the first Grand Fète, and which was ornamented (all . for the Deliverance of Europe) with fleurs de lys.

Her fairy standard in defence of curls?
Throne, Whiskers, Wig, soon vanish'd into smoke,
The watchman cried « past One,» and-I awoke.

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 really safe. A Privy Council is held-all the Servants, etc. are examined, and it appears that a Tailor, who had come to measure the R-G-T for a Dress (which takes three whole pages of the best superfine clinquant in describing), was the only person who had 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,

1. To enable the individual, who holds the office of Chancellor, to maintain it in becoming splendour. (1 loud laugh.)

Lord Castlereagh's Speech upon the Vice-Chancellor's Bill.

which is addressed to the two brothers, as they «exeunt Look through all Europe's Kings—at least, those who go 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,
And the fresh Spirit, that can warble free,
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,
For a moment, like gentlemen, stand up at ease,
While I sing of our P――E (and a fig for his railers),
The Shop-board's delight! the Maecenas 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-r's finds room in a laced button-hole!
Derry down, etc.

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 PE about town!
Derry down, etc.

During the « Derry down» of this last verse, a messenger from the S-c-t-y of S-e's Office rushes on, and the singer (who, luckily for the effect of the scene, is the very Tailor suspected of the mysterious fragments) is interrupted in the midst of his laudatory exertions, and hurried away, to the no small surprise and consternation of his comrades. The Plot now hastens rapidly in its development-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 MM-

upon subjects purely professional, and the corresponding duced, and skilfully laid beside the others, the following bits (which still lie luckily in his pocket) being probillet-doux is the satisfactory result of their juxta posi- |

tion:

Honour'd 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 young;
But, bless you! they wouldn't go half round the R—G—T,
So, hope you'll excuse your's till death, most obedient.

This fully explains the whole mystery-the R-G-T resumes his wonted smiles, and the Drama terminates, | as usual, to the satisfaction of all parties.

PREFACE.

S-DM-TH, in his wisdom and benevolence, has orga nized.

Whether Mr FUDGE, himself, has yet made any dis coveries, does not appear from the following pages:but much may be expected from a person of his 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.

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 C-GH, have been so amply and gratefully remunerated. Like his friend and I regret that I have been obliged to omit Mr Bot associate, THOMAS REYNOLDS, Esq. he had retired upon FUDGE's Third Letter, concluding the adventures of his the reward of his honest industry; but has lately been Day, with the Dinner, Opera, etc, etc,—but, in cons induced to appear again in active life, and superintend|quence of some remarks upon Marinette's thin drapery. the training of that Delatorian Cohort, which Lord 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.

At the sight of that spot, where our darling"
Set the first of his own dear legitimate feet'
Modell d out so exactly, and-God bless the mark!-
Tis a foot, Dolly, worthy so Grand a M**** • que),
Hle exclaim d «Oh mon R** !» and, with tear-dropping eye,
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—
What a charming idea!-raised close to the spot;
The mode being now 'as you've heard, I suppose)
To build tombs over legs, 2 and raise pillars to toes.
This is all that's occurr'd sentimental as yet;

It will not, I hope, be thought presumptuous, if I take
this opportunity of complaining of a very serious in- |
justice 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 com-
placently as if it actually belonged to him; without
even the honesty of avowing, with his own favourite | Except, indeed, some litte flower-nymphis we 've met,
author (he will excuse the pun,

Εγω δ' Ὁ ΜΩΡΟΣ αρας
Εδησαμην μετωπο.

I can only add, that if any lady or gentleman, curious | in such matters, will take the trouble of calling at my lodgings, 245, Piccadilly, I shall have the honour of assuring them, in propria persona, that I am-his, or her,

Very obedient and very humble servant,
THOMAS BROWN, THE YOUNGER

April, 17, 1818.

THE

FUDGE FAMILY IN PARIS.

LETTER I.

FROM MISS RIDDY 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 Eaghsh 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 ink,
How delightful! though, would you believe it, my dear?
I 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,
I 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 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 Nampout, the beast was alive!

By the bye, though, at Calais, Papa had a touch
Of romance on the pier, which affected ine much.

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 recal the good days of the ancien régime,

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 Boв look'd at Kilrandy,
But Lord: he's quite alter d-they've made him a Dandy
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 scholars,
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, foud of learning, ambitious,
And I goes now to Paris to study French dishes,
Whose names-think,how quick!- he already knows pat,
A la braise, petits pates, and-what d'ye call that

They inflict on potatoes? oh! maitre d'hôtel—

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 of authors and books.

As to Pa, what d'ye think?-mind it's all entre nous,
But you know, love, 1 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-STL-R-GN,
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,

To commemorate the landing of ***** ** ******* from England, the impression of his foot is marked on the pier at Calais, and a pillar with an inscription raised opposite to the spot. -C-git la jambe de, etc, etc.

« SCOTT's Visit,» of course-in short, every thing he has I've thought of thee upon the way,

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 déjeuner à la Fourchette,

2 This excellent imitation of the noble Lord's style shows how deeply and sell-gratulatory orations, on his return from the
Mr Fudge must have studied his great original, Icish oratory, in-
deed, abounds with such startling peculiarities. Thus the eloquent
Counsellor B----, in describing some hypocritical pretender to
charity, said—« He put his hand in his breeches-pocket, like a croLO-
dile, and, etc. etc.

was at one of these Irish dinners that his gallant brother Lord S. pn-
posed the health of The best cavalry officer in Europe the Regent.

Verbation from one of the noble Viscount's speeches. And as Sir, I must embark into the feature on which this question cod hinges.