Obrazy na stronie
[ocr errors][merged small]

to you,

[blocks in formation]

With a heart full of hope this sweet fel

low to meet, I set out with Papa, to see Louis Dix

HUIT Make his bow to some half-dozen women

and boys, Who get up a small concert of shrill

Vive le Rois And how vastly genteeler, my dear, even

this is, Than vulgar Pall-Mall's oratorio of hisses ! The gardens seemed full so, of course,

we walkt o'er 'em, 'Mong orange-trees, clipt into town-bred

decorum, And daphnes and vases and many a

statue There staring, with not even a stitch on

them, at you ! The ponds, too,

we viewed stood awhile on the brink To contemplate the play of those pretty

gold fishes Live bullion,says merciless BOB,

“ which, I think,
Would, if coined, with a little mint

be delicious!"2

As the lock that, Pa says,is to Mussul

men given, For the angel to hold by that “lugs them

to heaven!' Alas, there went by me full many a

quiz, And mustachios in plenty, but nothing

like his ! Disappointed, I found myself sighing out

"well-a-day,” Thought of the words of Tom MOORE'S

Irish Melody, Something about the “green spot of

delight (Which, you know, Captain MACKIN

TOSH sung to us one day):

[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

1 The cars, on the return, are dragged up slowly by a chain.

2 Mr. Bob need not be ashamed of his cookery jokes, when he is kept in countenance by such men as Cicero, St. Augustine, and that jovial bishop, Venantius Fortunatus. The pun of the great orator upon the jus Verrinum,” which he calls bad hog-broth, from a play upon both the words, is well known; and the Saint's puns upon the conversion of Lot's wife into salt are equally ingenious: -- In salem conversa hominibus fidelibus quoddam præstitit condimentum, quo sapiant aliquid, unde illud caveatur exemplum.De Civitat. Dei,lib. xvi. cap. 30. -- The jokes of the pious favorite of Queen Radagunda, the convivial Bishop Venantius, may be found among his poems, in some lines against a cook who had robbed him. The following is similar to Cicero's pun :

plus juscella Coci quam inea jura valent.

See his poems, “Corpus Poetar. Latin.' tom. ii. p. 1732. -- Of the same kind was Montmaur's

joke, when a dish was spilt over him—“ mum jus, summa injuria ; " and the same celebrated parasite, in ordering a sole to be placed before him, said,

eligi cui dicas, tu mihi sola places. The reader may likewise see, among a good deal of kitchen erudition, the learned Lipsius's jokes on cutting up a capon in his Saturnal. Ser. mon.lib. ii. cap. 2. 3 For this scrap of knowledge “ Pa"

was, I suspect, indebted to a note upon Volney's “Ruins;

a book which usually forms part of a Jacobin's library, and with which Mr. Fudge must have been well acquainted at the time when he wrote his “Down with Kings,” etc. The note in Volney is as follows:-“It is by this tuft of hair (on the crown of the head), worn by the majority of Mussulmans, that the Angel of the Tomb is to take the elect and carry them to Paradise."

4 The young lady, whose memory is not very correct, must allude, I think, to the following lines:

Oh that fairy form is ne'er forgot,

Which First Love traced ;
Still it lingering haunts the greenest spot

On Memory's waste !

my hero

Ah DOLLY, my spot

was that Satur “What with old Laïs and VÉRY, I'm day night,

curst And its verdure, how fleeting, had « If

my head or my stomach will ever withered by Sunday !

recover it!" We dined at a tavern - La, what do

I say?
If BOB was to know ! a Restaura-

’T was dark, when we got to the Boule

vards to stroll, teur's, dear; Where your properest ladies go dinė

And in vain did I look 'mong the

street Macaronis, every day, And drink Burgundy out of large

When, sudden it struck me

- last hope tumblers, like beer.

of my soul Fine Bob (for he's really grown super

That some angel might take the dear fine)

man to TORTONI'S ! 2 Condescended for once to make one

We entered — and, scarcely had BOB, of the party;

with an air, Of course, tho' but three, we had dinner For a grappe à la jardinière called for nine,

to the waiters, And in spite of my grief, love, I | When, oh DOLL! Í saw him

was there own I ate hearty. Indeed, DOLL, I know not how 't is,

(For I knew his white small-clothes

and brown leather gaiters), but, in grief, I have always found eating a wondrous

A group of fair statues from Greece relief;

smiling o'er him, 3 And BOB, who's in love, said he felt the

And lots of red currant-juice sparkling

before him ! same, quite “My sighs,” said he, “ceased with

Oh! DOLLY, these heroes — what creathe first glass I drank you;

tures they are; “ The lamb made me tranquil, the puffs

In the boudoir the same as in fields full made me light,

of slaughter ! " And 1 — now that all 's o'er — why,

As cool in the Beaujon's precipitous car, I'm pretty well, thank you ! ”

As when safe at TORTONI's, o'er

iced currant water ! To my great annoyance, we sat rather

He joined us — -imagine, dear creature, late;

my ecstasy For BOBBY and Pa had a furious debate

Joined by the man I'd have broken ten

necks to see! About singing and cookery - BOBBY, of

BOB wished to treat him with Punch à course, Standing up for the latter Fine Art in

la glace, full force;

But the sweet fellow swore that my And Pa saying, “God only knows which

beauté, my grâce, is worst,

And my je-ne-sais-quoi (then his whiskers “ The French Singers or Cooks, but I

he twirled) wish us well over it

Were, to him, “on de top of all Ponch

in de vorld." 1 Cookery has been dignified by the researches

How pretty! tho' oft (as of course of a Bacon ; (see his “ Natural History,Receipts, etc.) and takes its station as one of the Fine

it must be ) Arts in the following passage of Mr. Dugald

Both his French and his English are Stewart: -“Agreeably to this view of the sub Greek, DOLL, to me. ject sweet may be said to be intrinsically pleasing, and bitter to be relatively pleasing; which both are, in many cases, equally essential to those effects, which, in the art of cookery, correspond

2 A fashionable café glacier on the Italian to that composite beauty, which it is the object

Boulevards. of the painter and of the poet to create. 3“You eat your ice at Tortoni's,” says Mr. Philosophical Essays."

Scott, under a Grecian group."


For I hate to ask Bob, he 's so ready

to quiz,) What sort of a thing, dear, a Branden

burgh is.



- the name,

But, in short, I felt happy as ever fond

heart did; And happier still, when 't was fixt, ere

we parted, That, if the next day should be pastoral

weather, We all would set off, in French buggies,

together, To see Montmorency — that place which,

you know, Is só famous for cherries and JEAN

His card then he gave us —

rather creased But 't was Calicot — something — a

Colonel, at least ! After which - sure there never was hero

so civil — he Saw us safe home to our door in Rue

Rivoli, Where his last words, as, at parting,

he threw A soft look o'er his shoulders, were —

How do you do!1 But, lord ! — there's Papa for the post

-I'm so vext Montmorency must now, love, be kept

for my next. That dear Sunday night!—I was charm

ingly drest, And - 50 providential !. — was looking

[blocks in formation]

my best;

tain's eye,

Such a sweet muslin gown, with a flounce

- and my frills, You've no notion how rich — (tho'

Pa has by the bills) And you 'd smile had you seen, when

we sat rather near, Colonel CalicoT eying the cambric, my

dear. Then the flowers in my bonnet — but,

la ! it 's in vain – So, good-by, my sweet DolL— I shall soon write again.

B. F.

As geese from eagles on Mount Taurus

fly, Denounced against the land, that spurned

his chain, Myriads of swords to bind it fast again Myriads of fierce invading swords, to

track Thro’ your best blood his path of ven

geance back; When Europe's Kings, that never yet

combined But (like those upper Stars, that, when

conjoined, Shed war and pestilence,) to scourge


Nota bene - our love to all neighbors

Your Papa in particular -how is his gout?
P.S. – I've just opened my letter to say,
In your next you must tell me, (now

do, DOLLY, pray,
1 Not an unusual mistake with foreigners.

2 See Ælian, lib v. cap. 29.,

who tells us that these geese, from a consciousness of their own loquacity, always cross Mount Taurus with stones in their bills, to prevent any unlucky cackle from betraying them to the eagles – διαπέτονται σιωπωντες. .


my dear!

Gathered around, with hosts from every To dash them down again more shattershore,

ingly! Hating NAPOLEON much, but Freedom All this I own

- but still 1 more, And, in that coming strife, appalled to

LETTER XII. The world yet left one chance for lib. FROM MISS BIDDY FUDGE TO MISS erty!

DOROTHY No, 't was not then the time to weave a At last, DOLLY, thanks to a potent net

emetic, Of bondage round your Chief; to curb Which BOBBY and Pa, with grimace and fret

sympathetic, Your veteran war-horse, pawing for the

Have swallowed this morning, to balance fight,

the bliss, When every hope was in his speed and

Of an eеl matelote and a bisque d'écremight

visses To waste the hour of action in dis

I 've a morning at home to myself, and pute,

sit down And coolly plan how freedom's boughs To describe you our heavenly trip out of should shoot,

town. When your Invader's axe was at the

How agog you must be for this letter, root ! No sacred Liberty! that God, who

Lady JANE, in the novel, less languisht throws,

to hear Thy light around, like his own sunshine,

If that elegant cornet she met at Lord knows

NEVILLE's How well I love thee and how deeply

Was actually dying with love or blue hate

devils. All tyrants, upstart and Legitimate

But Love, Dolly, Love is the theme I Yet, in that hour, were France my native land,


With Blue Devils, thank heaven, I have I would have followed, with quick heart

nothing to do and hand,

Except, indeed, dear Colonel CALICOT NAPOLEON, NERO ay, matter

spies whom

Any imps of that color in certain blue To snatch my country from that damn

eyes, ing doom,

Which he stares at till I, Doll, at his do That deadliest curse that on the conquered waits

Then he simpers

I blush and would A Conqueror's satrap, throned within

often exclaim, her gates !

If I knew but the French for it, “Lord,

Sir, for shame!” True, he was false — despotic — all you please —

Well, the morning was lovely — the

trees in full dress Had trampled down man's holiest liberties

For the happy occasion the sunshine

express Had, by a genius, formed for nobler things

1 Somebody ( Fontenelle, I believe,) has said, Than lie within the grasp of vulgar

that if he had his hand full of truths, he would

open but one finger at a time; and the same Kings,

sort of reserve I'find to be necessary with respect But raised the hopes of men — as eaglets to Mr. Connor's very plain-spoken letters. The fly

remainder of this Epistle is so full of unsafe mat

ter-of-fact, that it must, for the present at least, With tortoises aloft into the sky

be withheld from the public.


the same;

dare say

ever on

Had we ordered it, dear, of the best About English affairs an odd blunder or poet going,

two. It scarce could be furnisht more golden For example misled by the names, I

and glowing. Tho'late when we started, the scent of He confounded JACK CASTLES with Lord the air

CASTLEREAGH; Was like GATTIE's rose-water, - and, And sure such a blunder no mortal hit

bright, here and there, On the grass an odd dew-drop was glit- Fancied the present Lord CAMDEN the tering yet,

clever one! Like my aunt's diamond pin on her green tabbinet !

But politics ne'er were the sweet fellow's While the birds seemed to warble as trade; blest on the boughs,

'T was for war and the ladies my Col. As if each a plumed Calicot had for her onel was made. spouse;

And oh ! had you heard, as together we And the grapes were all blushing and walkt kissing in rows,

Thro' that beautiful forest, how sweetly And in short, need I tell you, where he talkt; ever one goes

And how perfectly well he appeared, With the creature one loves, 't is cou Doll, to know leur de rose ;

All the life and adventures of JEAN And ah! I shall ne'er, lived I ever so JACQUES ROUSSEAU ! long, see

"'T was there,” said he not that his A day such as that at divine Montmor words I can state ency!

’T was a gibberish that Cupid alone

could translate; There was but one drawback

at first

But “ there,” said he, (pointing where, when we started,

small and remote, The Colonel and I were inhumanly The dear Hermitage rose), “there his parted;

Julie he wrote, How cruel young hearts of such

“ Upon paper gilt-edged, 2 without blot moments to rob! He went in Pa's buggy, and I went with " Then sanded it over with silver and BOB;

azure, And, I own, I felt spitefully happy to “ And -oh, what will genius and fancy know

not do?That Papa and his comrade agreed but “ Tied the leaves up together with nom

pareille blue !" For the Colonel, it seems, is a stickler of What a trait of Rousseau ! what a crowd BONEY'S

of emotions Served with him of course

From sand and blue ribbons are consure they were cronies.

jured up here! So martial his features ! dear DolL, you Alas, that a man of such exquisite 3 no

tions Ulm, Austerlitz, Lodi, as plain in his face Should send his poor brats to the As you do on that pillar of glory and Foundling, my dear!

brass, Which the poor Duc DE BERRI must 2Employant pour cela le plus beau papier hate so to pass !

doré séchant l'écriture avec de la poudre d'azur

et d'argent, et cousant mes cahiers avec de la It appears, too, he made

as most for

nompareille bleue.”—“Les Confessions,part eigners do

3 This word, “exquisite,” is evidently a favor1 The column in the Place Vendôme.

ite of Miss Fudge's; and I understand she was

or erasure;


- nay, I'm

can trace

ii. liv. 9.

« PoprzedniaDalej »