Billeder på siden
PDF
ePub

(The PE just in bed, or about to depart for't, His legs full of gout, and his arms full of H—RTF―D,)

To think what a long line of titles may follow
The relics of him who died-friendless and lorn!

"I say, Huм," says FUм-FUм, of course, spoke How proud they can press to the fun'ral array

[blocks in formation]

"Whose humor, as gay as the fire-fly's light,

66

Time was, when JOHN BULL little difference spied

'Play'd round every subject, and shone as it "Twixt the foe at his feet, and the friend at his side: When he found (such his humor in fighting and

play'd ;

"Whose wit, in the combat, as gentle as bright,

"Ne'er carried a heart-stain away on its blade ;

"Whose eloquence-bright'ning whatever it tried, "Whether reason or fancy, the gay or the grave,

"Was as rapid, as deep, and as brilliant a tide,

"As ever bore Freedom aloft on its wave!"

eating)

His foe, like his beef-steak, the sweeter for beating. But this comes, Master BEN, of your cursed foreign notions,

Your trinkets, wigs, thingumbobs, gold lace and lotions;

Your Noyeaus, Curaçoas, and the Devil knows

what

(One swig of Blue Ruin is worth the whole lot!) Your great and small crosses—( -(my eyes, what a brood!

Yes-such was the man, and so wretched his fate ;-
And thus, sooner or later, shall all have to grieve,
Who waste their morn's dew in the beams of the A cross-buttock from me would do some of them
Great,

And expect 'twill return to refresh them at eve.

good!)

Which have spoil'd you, till hardly a drop, my old porpoise,

In the woods of the North there are insects that Of pure English claret is left in your corpus;

prey

On the brain of the elk till his very last sigh; Oh, Genius! thy patrons, more cruel than they, First feed on thy brains, and then leave thee to die!

EPISTLE

FROM

TOM CRIB TO BIG BEN,2

CONCERNING SOME FOUL PLAY IN A LATE TRANSACTION.3

66 'Ahi, mio BEN!"-METASTASIO.4

WHAT! BEN, my old hero, is this your renown?
Is this the new go?-kick a man when he's down!
When the foe has knock'd under, to tread on him
then-

By the fist of my father, I blush for thee, BEN!
"Foul! foul!" all the lads of the Fancy exclaim-
CHARLEY SHOCK is electrified-BELCHER spits
flame-

And MOLYNEUX-ay, even BLACKY" cries" shame!"

1 Naturalists have observed that, upon dissecting an elk, there were found in its head some large flies, with its brain almost eaten away by them.-History of Poland.

A nickname given, at this time, to the Pr-ce R-g-t. Written soon after Bonaparte's transportation to St. Helena.

And (as JIM says) the only one trick, good or bad, Of the Fancy you're up to, is fibbing, my lad. Hence it comes,-BOXIANA, disgrace to thy page!— Having floor'd, by good luck, the fist swell of the

age,

Having conquer'd the prime one, that mild us all round,

You kick'd him, old BEN, as he gasp'd on the

ground!

Ay-just at the time to show spunk, if you'd got

any

Kick'd him, and jaw'd him, and lagg'd' him to
Botany!

Oh, shade of the Cheesemonger! you, who, alas,
Doubled up, by the dozen, those Mounseers in brass,
On that great day of milling, when blood lay in lakes,
When Kings held the bottle, and Europe the stakes,
Look down upon BEN-see him, dunghill all o'er,
Insult the fall'n foe, that can harm him no more!
Out, cowardly spooney!—again and again,
By the fist of my father, I blush for thee, BEN.
To show the white feather is many men's doom,
But, what of one feather?-BEN shows a whole
Plume.

[blocks in formation]

Tom I suppose, was "assisted" to this Motto by Mr. himself, and was killed in the memorable set to at Waterloo.

[ocr errors]

THE FUDGE FAMILY
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.-CASTIGLIONE.

PREFACE.

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 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 his zeal and sagacity, and, indeed, to him, Lord S-DM-THI, and the Greenland-bound ships, the eyes of all lovers of discoverie are now most anxiously directed.

I regret much that I have been obliged to omit Mr. BOB FUDGE's Third Letter, concluding the adventures of his Day with the Dinner, Opera, &c., &c. ;-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.

persons, has at last settled upon the head of a cer-
tain 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
favorite author, (he will excuse the pun,)
Εγω δ' 'Ο ΜΩΡΟΣ αρας
Εδησαμην μετωπω.

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 honor of assuring them, in propriâ personâ, that I am-his, or her,

Very obedient

[blocks in formation]

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

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 66 I 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-Bagsuch as it is having hovered doubtfully over various I have seen nothing yet very wonderful here;

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
ink,

How delightful! though, would you believe it, my
dear?

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 Clonkilty 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 Nampont, the beast was alive!

By the by, 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 Dix-

HUIT

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 Monarque,) He exclaim'd, "Oh, mon Roi!" and, with teardropping 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 King; 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 forgotWhat 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 flow'r-nymphs we've met, Who disturb one's romance with pecuniary views, Flinging flow'rs in your path, and then-bawling

for sous!

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, fond of learning, ambi-
tious,

And goes now to Paris to study French dishes, Whose names-think, how quick! he already knows pat,

'A la braise, petits pâtés, and—what d'ye call that They inflict on potatoes?-oh! maître d'hôtelI assure you, dear DOLLY, he knows them as well As if nothing else all his life he had eat, 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, I never keep secrets from youWhy, 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 great friend and patron, my Lord C-STL-R-GH, Who said, "My dear FUDGE"- -I forget the 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,

And some picturesque beggars, whose multitudes To expound to the world the new-thingummie—

seem

To recall 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.

science,

Found out by the-what's-its-name-Holy Alli

ance,

| 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,

You remember how sheepish Boв look'd at Kil- Half so fit for this great undertaking as FUDGE!"

randy,

But, Lord! he's quite alter'd-they've made him a Dandy;

The matter's soon settled-Pa flies to the Row (The first stage your tourists now usually go,)

1 To commemorate the landing of Louis le Désiré from England, the impression of his foot is marked out on the pier

at Calais, and a pillar with an inscription raised opposite to the spot. Ci git la jambe de, &c., &c.

Settles all for his quarto-advertisements, praisesStarts post from the door, with his tablets-French

phrases

LETTER II.

'SCOTT's Visit," of course-in short, ev'ry thing he FROM PHIL FUDGE, ESQ., TO THE LORD VISCOUNT las

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 déjeûner à 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 BONAPARTE,
His nose and his chin-which Papa rather
dreads,

As the Bourbons, you know, are suppressing all heads

That resemble old NAP's, and who knows but their honors

May think, in their fright, of suppressing poor ConNOR'S ?

Au reste, (as we say,) the young lad's well enough, 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 lib'ral of Pa!

[merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors]

C-ST-R-GH.

Ar 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
Where the poor Palace changes masters
Quicker than a snake its skin,
And Louis is roll'd out on castors,

While BONEY's borne on shoulders in :-
But where, in every change, no doubt,
One special good your Lordship traces,--
That 'tis the Kings alone turn out,

The Ministers still keep their places.

How oft, dear Viscount C-GH,
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 dicky, (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

Paris.

And spread, beyond man's usual share, At home, abroad, till thou art known, Like Major SEMPLE, everywhere! And marv'ling with what powers of breath Your Lordship, having speech'd to death Some hundreds of your fellow-men, Next speech'd to Sov'reigns' ears,—and when All Sov'reigns else were dozed, at last Speech'd down the Sov'reign' of Belfast. Oh! mid the praises and the trophies Thou gain'st from Morosophs and Sophis;

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 ofzer in Europethe Regent !"

« ForrigeFortsæt »