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Tra.

Why, That it threaten’d to give up the ghost t'other day. Do you think me subdued by a Blue-stocking's eye, Ink. Well, that is a sign of some spirit. So far as to tremble to tell her in rhyme

Tra.

No doubt. What I've told her in prose, at the least, as sublime? Shall you be at the Countess of Fiddlecome's rout?

Ink. As sublime! If it be so, no need of my Muse. Ink. I've a card, and shall go: but at present, as Tra. But consider, dear Inkel, she's one of the

[the moon « Blues."

(say. As friend Scamp shall he pleased to step down from Ink. As sublime!—Mr. Tracy-I've nothing to (Where he seems to be soaring in search of his wits), Slick to prose-As sublime!!—but I wish you good And an interval grants from his lecturing fits, day.

[wrong; I'm engaged to the Lady Bluebottle's collation, Tra. Nay, slay, my dear fellow-consider-I’m To partake of a luncheon and learn’d conversation : Iown it; but, prithee, compose me the song. 'T is a sort of re-union for Scamp, on the days Ink. As sublime !!

Of his lecture, to treat him with cold tongue and Tra.

I but used the expression in haste. praise. Ink. That may be, Mr. Tracy, but shows damn'd! And I own, for my own part, that't is not unpleasant. bad taste.

Will you go? There's Miss Lilac will also be present. Tra. I own il-I know it--acknowledge it- what Tra. That “melal's attractive." Can I say to you more?

Ink.

No doubt-to the pocket. Ink.

I see what you 'd be at: Tra. You should rather encourage my passion You disparage my parts with insidious abuse, (use. than shock it. Till you think you can turn them best to your own But let us proceed; for I think, by the hum

Tra. And is that not a sign I respect them? Ink. Very true; let us go, then, before they can Ink.

Why, thal,

come, To be sure, makes a difference.

Or else we 'll be kept here an hour at their levy, Tra,

I know what is what: On the rack of cross-questions, by all the blue Levy. And you, who ’re a man of the gay world, no less Hark! zounds, they 'll be on us; I know by the drone Than a poel of l' other, may easily guess

Of old Botherby's spouting ex-cathedra tone. That I never could mean, by a word, 10 offend Ay! there he is at it. Poor Scamp! better join A genius like you, and moreover my friend. Your friends, or he 'll pay you back in your own Ink. No doubt; you by this time should know Tra. All fair ; 't is but lecture for lecture. (coin. what is due

Ink.

That's clear, To a man of--But come-let us shake hands. But for God's sake let's go, or the bore will be here.

You knew,

Come, come: nay l’m off. Tra.

[Brit INKEL. Tra.

You are right, and I 'll follow; And you know, my dear fellow, how heartily I, Whatever you publish, am ready to buy. [for sale; / 'T is high time for a Sic me servavit Apollo." (4)

And yet we shall have the whole crew on our kibes, Ink. That's my bookseller's business; I care not Indeed the best poems at first rather fail.

Blues, dandies, and dowagers, and second-hand There were Renegade's epics, and Botherby's All flocking to moisten their exquisite throttles

scribes,
plays, (1)
And my own grand romance-

With a glass of madeira at Lady Bluehottle's.
Tra.
Had its full share of praise.

[Bxit Tracy. I myself saw it puffd in the “Old Girl's Review.”(2) Ink. What Review ?

ECLOGUE SECOND. Tra.

'T is the English Journal de Trévoux;" (3)

An Apartment in the House of LADY BLUEBOTTLE.

-A Table prepared.
A clerical work of our jesuits at home.
Have

SIR RICHARD BLUEBOTTLE solus.
you never yel seen it?
Ink.

That pleasure's to come. Sir Rich. Was there ever a man who was married Tra. Make haste then.

so sorry? Ink. Why so ?

Like a fool, I must needs do the thing in a hurry. Tra

I have heard people say My life is reversed, and my quiet destroy'd;

(1) Messrs. Soutney and Sotheby.-E.

Port paid the British Review an extravagant compliment when (2) " My Grandmother s iew, the British." See Moore's be made this comparison.-E. Life of Lord Byron. This heavy journal has since been gathered 14) “Sotheby is a good man-rhymes well (if not wisely); but is to its grandmothers.-E.

a bore. He seizes you by the button. One night of a roul al (3) The Journal de Trévoux (in fifty-six volumes) is one of the Mrs. Hope's, he bad fastened upon me—something about Alicet most curious collections of literary gossip in the worid, and the

memnon, or Orestes, or some of his plays)-notwithstanding my

Must now,

Both.

My days, which once pass'd in so gentle a void, Lady Blueb. To be sure it was broiling; but then

every hour of the twelve, be employ'd: You have lost such a lecture! The twelve, do I say?-of the whole twenty-four,

The best of the ten. Is there one which I dare call my own any more? Tra. How can you know that ? there are two more. What with driving and visiting, dancing and dining, Both.

Because What with learning, and tcaching, and scribbling, I defy him to beat this day's wondrous applause. and shining,

The very walls shook. In science and art, I 'll be cursed if I know

Ink.

Oh, if that be the test, Myself from my wife; for although we are two, I allow our friend Scamp has this day done his best. Yet she somehow contrives that all things shall be Miss Lilac, permit me to help you;—a wing? In a style which proclaims us elernally one. [llone Miss Lil. No more, sir, I thank you. Who lectures But the thing of all things which distresses me more next spring? Than the bills of the week (though they trouble me Bolh. Dick Dunder. Is the numerous, humorous, backbiting crew [sore) Ink.

That is, if he lives. Of scribblers, wits, lecturers, white, black, and blue, Miss Lil.

And why not? Who are brought to my house as an inn, to my cost Ink. No reason whatever, save that he's a sot. -For the bill here, it seems, is defray'd by the Lady Bluemount! a glass of madeira ? host

Lady Bluem.

With pleasure. No pleasure ! no leisure! no thought for my pains, Ink. How does your friend Wordswords, that But lo hear a vile jargon which addles my brains,

Windermere treasure? A smatter and chatter, glean’d out of reviews, Does he stick to his lakes, like the leeches he sings, By the rag, tag, and bobtail of those they call And their gatherers, as Homer sung warriors and “Blues;

kings? A rabble who know not--But soft, here they come! Lady Bluem. He has just got a place. Would to God I were deaf! as I'm not, I'll be dumb. Ink

As a footman ? Lady Buem.

For shame! Enter LADY BLUEBOTTLE, Miss Lilac, LADY

Nor profane with your sneers so poetic a name. BLUEMOUNT, MR. BOTHERBY, INKEL, TRACY,

*Ink. Nay, I meant him no evil, but pitied his Miss MAZARINE, and others, with SCAMP the

master; Lecturer, etc. etc.

For the poet of pedlars 't were, sure, no disaster Lady Blueb. Ah! Sir Richard, good morning; To wear a new livery; the more, as 't is not I've brought you some friends.

The first time he has turn'd both his creed and his Sir Rich. (buws, and afterwards aside.) If coat. friends, they 're the first.

Lady Bluem. For shame! I repeat. If Sir George Lady Blueb. But the luncheon attends.

could but hear I pray ye be seated, sans cérémonie.

Lady Blueb. Never mind our friend Inkel; we all Mr. Scamp, you 're fatigued; take your chair there,

know, my dear, next me.

(They all sit. 'T is his way. Sir Rich. (aside.) If he does, his fatigue is to Sir Rich. But this place -

Ink.

Is perhaps like friend Scamp's, Lady Blueb.

come.

Mr.

Tracy A lecturer's. Lady Bluemount-Miss Lilac-be pleased, pray, to Lady B. Excuse me 't is one in the Stamps ;" place ye;

He is made a collector. (1) And you, Mr. Botherby

Tra.

Collector!
Bolh.
Oh, my dear Lady,
Sir Rich.

How?
Lobey.

Miss Lil.

What? Lady Blueb. Mr. Inkel, I ought to upbraid ye: Ink. I shall think of him oft when I buy a new bat: You were not at the lecture.

There his works will appear Ink.

Excuse me, I was;

Lady Bluem. Sir, they reach to the Ganges. But the heat forced me out in the best part-alas! Ink. I shan't go so far-I can have them al And when

Grange's. (2)

syimptoms of manllest distress—(for I was in love, and just nicked hand, and pathetically bade me farewell; 'for,'said he, “I see i! a minute when neither mothers, nor husbands, nor rivals, nor is all over with you.' Sotheby then went away: sic me servavil gossips were near my then idol, who was beautiful as the statues Apollo.'" B. Diary, 1821. of the gallery where we stood at the lime). Sotheby, I say, had (1) Mr. Wordsworth is collector of stamps for Cumberland and seized upon me by the button and the heart-strings, and spared Westmoreland.-E. peither. William Spencer, who likes fun, and don i dislike mis (2) Grange is or was a famous pastry-cook and fruiterer in chief, saw my case, and, coming up to us both, took me by the Piccadilly.

Lady Blueb. Oh fie!

I'll do what I can, though my pains must be double.
Miss Lil.
And for shame!

Tra. Why so?
Lady Bluem.
You 're too bad. Ink.

To do justice to what goes before. Both.

Very good! Both. Sir, I'm happy to say, I've no fears on Lady Bluem. How good ?

that score.
Lady Blueb. He means nought—'t is his phrase. Your parts, Mr. Inkel, are--
Lady Bluem.
He grows rude. Ink.

Never mind mine;
Lady Blueb. He means nothing; nay, ask him. Stick to those of your play, which is quite your own
Lady Bluem.
Pray, Sir! did you mean

line. What you say?

Lady Bluem. You ’re a fugilive writer, I think, Ink. Never mind if he did; 't will be seen sir, of rhymes ? That whatever he means won't alloy what he says. Ink. Yes, ma'am; and a fugitive reader someBoth. Sir!

times. Ink Pray be content with your portion of praise; On Wordswords, for instance, I seldom alight, 'T was in your defence.

Or on Mouthey, his friend, without taking to fight. Both.

If you please, with submission, Lady Bluem. Sir, your taste is too common; but I can make out my own.

time and posterity Ink.

It would be your perdition. Will right these great men, and this age's severity While you live, my dear Botherby, never defend Become its reproach. Yourself or your works; but leave both to a friend. Ink.

I've no sort of objection, Apropos—Is your play then accepted at last? So I'm not of the party to take the infection. Both. At last ?

Lady Blueb. Perhaps you have doubts that they Ink. Why, I thought—that's to say-there had ever will take ? pass'd

Ink. Not at all; on the contrary, those of the lake A few green-room whispers, which hinted-you Have taken already, and still will continue know

To take—what they can, from a groat to a guinea, That the taste of the actors at best is so so. (1) Of pension or place;—but the subject's a bore. Both. Sir, the green-room 's in rapture, and so 's Lady Bluem. Well, sir, the time is coming. the committee.

Ink.

Scamp! don't you feel sore ? Ink. Ay-yours are the plays for exciting our What say you to this ?

Scamp.

They have merit, I own; And fear,” as the Greek says: "for purging the Though their system's absurdity keeps it unknown. mind,"

Ink. Then why not unearth it in one of your I doubt if you 'll leave us an equal behind.

lectures ? Both. I have written the prologue, and meant to Scamp. It is only time past which comes under have pray'd

my strictures. For a spice of your wit in an epilogue's aid.

Lady Blueb. Come, a truce with all tartness :Ink. Well, time enough yet, when the play's to the joy of my heart be play'd.

Is to see Nature's triumph o'er all that is art. Is it cast yet?

Wild Nature !-Grand Shakspeare! Both. The actors are fighting for parts,

Both.

And down Aristotle! As is usual in that most litigious of arts.

Lady Bluem. Sir George (2; thinks exactly with Lady Blueb. We'll all make a party, and go the Lady Bluebottle; first night.

And my Lord Seventy-four, (3) who protects our Tra. And you promised the epilogue, Inkel.

dear Bard, Ink.

Not quite. And who gave him his place, has the greatest regard However, to save my friend Botherby trouble, For the poet, who, singing of pedlars and asses, (4)

"pity

(1) When I belonged to the Drury Lane Committee, the number man, a ship of seventy-four guns, towards the close of the Ameof plays upon the sbelves were about five buodred. Mr. Sotheby rican war, for the service of his country, at his own expense;obligingly offered us all his tragedies, and I pledged myself, hence she sobriquet in the text.-E. and-notwithstanding many squabbles with my committee bre (4) “Pedlars," and " boats,” and “waggons!" O ye shades thren-did get loan accepled, read, and the parts distributed. But

Of Pope and Dryden! are we come to this? lo! in the very heart of the matter, upon some lepid-ness on the

That trash of such sort not alone evades part of Kean, or warmth on that of the author, Sotheby withdrew

Contempt, but from the bathos’ vast abyss his play." B. Diary, 1821.

Floats scumlike uppermost, and these Jack Cades (2) The late Sir George Beaumont—a constant friend of

of sense and song above your graves may hissMs. Wordsworth.-E.

The little boatman" and his “ Peter Bell" (3) The venerable Earl of Lonsdale. This nobleman on one Can sneer at him who drew “Achitophel!" occasion liberally offered to build, and completely furnish and

Don Juan, Canto III.-E.

Has found out the way to dispense with Parnassus. Tra. I should think with Du e Humphry was Tra. And you, Scamp!

nrore in your way.' Spamp. I needs must confess I'm embarrassid.

Ink. It might be of yore; but we authors now look ink. Don't call upon Scamp, who 's already so To the knight, as a landlord, much more than the harass'd

duke. With old schools, and new schools, and no schools, The truth is, each writer now quite at his ease is, and all schools.

And (except with his publisher) dines where he Tra. Well, one thing is certain, that some must pleases. be fools.

But 't is now nearly five, and I must to the Park. I should like to know who.

Tra. And I'll take a turn with you there lill 't is Ink. And I should not be sorry | And you, Scamp ?

(dark. To know who are not :-it would save us some

Scamp. Excuse me; I must to my notes, worry.

For my lecture next week. Lady Blueb. A truce with remark, and let nothing control

Ink.

He must mind whom he quotes This feast of our reason, and flow of the soul.” Out of Elegant Bxtracts. Oh! my dear Mr. Botherby! sympathise!-I

Lady Blueb.

Well, now we break up; Now feel such a ruplure, I 'm ready to fly,

But remember, Miss. Diddle(3) invites us to sup. I feel so elastic-"80 buoyant-80 buoyant.!"(1)

"

Ink. Then at two hours past midnight we all meet Ink. Tracy! open the window.

again, Tra.

I wish her much joy on't. For the sciences, sandwiches, hock, and chamBoth. For God's sake, my Lady Bluebottle, check paigne! This gentle emotion, so seldom our lot [not

Tra. And the sweet lobster-salad! Upon earth. Give it way; 't is an impulse which lifts

Both.

I honour that meal; Our spirits from earth; the sublimest of gifts;

For 't is then that our feelings most genuinely--feel. For which poor Prometheus was chain'd to his

Ink. True; feeling is truest then, far beyond mountain.

(tain: 'Tis the source of all sentiment-feeling's true foun

question :

I wish to the gods 't was the same with digestion ! "T is the vision of heaven upon earth: 't is the gas Of the soul: 't is the seizing of shades as they pass,

Lady Blueb. Pshaw!-never mind that; for one And making them substance !'t is something di

moment of feeling vine:

Is worth-God knows what. Ink. Shall I help you, my friend, to a little more

Ink.

'T is at least worth concealing, wine ?

For itself, or what follows“-But here comes your Both. I thank you; not any more, sir, till I dine. carriage. Ink. Apropos–Do you dine with Sir Humphry (2) Sir Rich. (aside.) I wish all these people were to day?

d-d with my marriage! [Breunt.

(1) Fact from life, with the words.

not yet been supplied to the circle of London artists and literati(2) The late Sir Humphry Davy, President of the Royal Society. an accomplished, clever, and truly amiable, but very eccentric .-E.

lady. The name in the text could only bave been suggested by (5) The late Miss Lydia White, whose hospitable functions liave the jingling resemblance il bears to Lydia.-E.

Marino Faliero, Doge of Venice;

AN HISTORICAL TRAGEDY.

IN FIVE ACTS. (1)

Dux inquieti turbidus Adriæ."- Horuce.

PREFACE.

dern history. It occurred in the year 1355. Every thing about Venice is, or was, extraordinary-her

aspect is like a dream, and her history is like a roToe conspiracy of the Doge Marino Faliero is one mance. The story of this Doge is to be found in all of the most remarkable events in the annals of the her chronicles, and particularly detailed in the most singular goverument, city, and people of mo- Lives of the Doges, by Marin Sanuto, which is

(1) Lord Byron finished the composition of this tragedy on main tissue of the plot, and in all the busiest and most interthe 16th July, 1820." He at the time intended to keep it by bim esting parts of it, it is, in fact, no more than another Venice for six years before sending it to the press; but resolutions of Preserved, in which the author has had lo contend (nor has he

this kind are, in moderu days, very seldom adhered to. It was contended successfully) with our recollections of a former and published in the end of the same year; and, to the poet's great deservedly popular play on the same subject.” disgust, and in spite of his urgent and repeated remonstrances, The following extract from a letter of January, 1821, will show sus produced on the stage of Drury Lane Theatre early in 1821. the author's own estimate of the piece thus criticised. After

Verino Faliero was, greatly to his salissaction, commended repealing his hope, that no manager would be so audacious as sarmly for the truth of its adhesion 1o Venetian history and to Irample on his feelings by producing it on the stage, he thus

banners, as well as tbe antique severity of its structure and lan- proceeds:guage, by that eminent master of Italian and classical literature, " It is too regular-lhe time, twenty-four hours-the change Le late Ugo Foscolo. Mr. Gifford also delighted him by pronoun- of place not frequent-nothing melo-dramatic-no surprises-00

ciog it “English-genuine English.” It was, however, little starls, nor trap-doors, nor opportunities for lossing their heads Sarogred by the contempopary critics. There was, indeed, only and kicking their heels'-and no love, the grand ingredient of a De who spoke of it as quite worthy of Lord Byron's reputation. modern play. I am persuaded that a great tragedy is not to be ** Nolbing," said he, “bas for a long time afforded us so much produced by following the old dramatisls—who are full of gross pleasure, as the rich promise of dramatic excellence unfolded faults, pardoned only for the beauty of their language - but by in this production of Lord Byron. Without question, no such writing naturally and regularly, and producing regular trage

tragedy as Marino Faliero has appeared in English, since the dies, like the Greeks; but not in imitation,-merely the outline 1 day when Olway also was inspired to his masterpiece by the in- of their conduct, adapted to our own times and circumstances,

terest of a Venetian story and a Venetian conspiracy. The story and of course no chorus. You will laugh, and say, “Why don't of which Lord Byron bas possessed himself is, we think, by far you do so ?' I hare, you see, tried a sketch in Marino Faliero;

the liner of the (w0,-and we say possessed, because we believe but many people think my lalent essentially undramalic,' and he has adhered almost to the leller of the transactions as they l I am not at all clear that they are not right.+ If Marino Faliero really took place."-The language of the Edinburgh anu Quar-, dont fail-in the perusal-1 shall, perhaps, try again (but not lerly Reviewers, Mr. Jeffrey and Bishop Heber, was in a far for the stage); and as I think that love is not the principal pasdiferent strain. The former says—" Marino Faliero has un- sion for tragedy (and yet most of ours turn upon it), you will not deabtedly considerable beauties, both dramatic and poetical ; fiud me a popular writer. Unless it is love furious, criminal, and

and might have made the forlune of any young aspirant for same: hapless, it ought not to make a tragic subject. When it is melting bar the name of Byron raises expectations which are not so easily and maudlin, it does, but it ought not to do; it is then for the

satisfied; and judging of it by the lofty standard which he himself gallery and second-price boxos. If you want to have a notion of has established, we are compelled to say, that we cannot but what I am trying, take up a translalion of any of the Greek traregard it as a failure, both as a poem and a play."

gedians. If I said the original, it would be an impudent preAller an elaborate disquisition on the Unities, Bishop Heber sumption of mine ; but the translations are so inferior to the ibus concludes :

originals, that I think I may risk it. Then judge of the simplicity " Yarino Faliero has, we believe, been prelty generally pro- of plot,' and do not judge me by your old mad dramatists; which Doanced a failure by the public voice, and we see no reason to call for a revision of their sentence. It contains, beyond all + That such is not the opinion now entertained by the practitoabe, many passages of commanding eloquence, and some of ge- calmen of Drury Lane is evident, from the fact that two of Byron's suine poetry; and the scenes, more particularly, in which Lord tragedies have since his deatb been produced on the stage: and Byroa has neglected the absurd creed of his pseudo-Hellenic favourable estimate of his dramatic powers than his critics were

thai, during his life-time, the same judges cclertained a more writers, are conceived and elaborated with great tragic effect pleased to express, will per baps be inferred from the following and derlerity. But the subject is decidedly ill-chosen. lo the anecdote, which we quote from Galt :- When Lord Byron was :

member of the managing (query-mis-managing ?) committee of

Drury Lane Theatre, Bartley was speaking with him on the decay . On the original MS. sent from Ravenna, Lord Byron has writ

of the drama, and took occasion to urge bis Lordsbip to write a tra - Begun April 4th, 1820-completed July 16th, 1820-finish gedy for the stage. *I cannot,' was the reply: 'I don't know how copring sagust 16th 17th, 1820; the which copying makes ten

to make the people go on and off in the scenes, and know not where abes ibe loil of composing, considering the weather-thermome in the bunesty of his heart, one of his Laras or Childe Harolds.

to find a fit character.' • Take your own,' said Bartley, meaning, first in the sbadevand iny domestic duties." - E.

• Much obliged to you,' was the reply-and exit in a buff. Byror leings it was planned at Vedice, in 1817.

thought he spoke literally of his orn real cbaracter."- E.

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