University of Virginia Library

A servant of the R. Academy.

An old servant also of the R. Academy.

A servant likewise of the R. Academy.

The torpedo.

The story of Rabelais running from the pope's presence is too well known to be repeated.

This farce was actually performed during the late reign, in the full form of loyalty, by the mayor and aldermen of a certain corporation in a western county.

Such is the laudable moderation of this second Sir John Cutler, or Mr. Elwes, that he allows himself and lady at and after dinner no more than this little measure of wine! A fine example for the sons of dissipation! It has been supposed that the œconomical Judge has surpassed the famous miracle of the loaves and fishes, by making one bottle of wine serve for double the number of souls, or rather bodies, that have come with open mouths to Lincoln's-Inn-Fields. I do not think they have gone away so well satisfied.

Such is the univeral disgust at the powder-tax, that many thousands of the male sex have already sacrificed their favourite curls, to disappoint the rapacity of a minister.

Westminster-Hall.

Here I must candidly condemn a part of the people, whose cause, in the affair of hair-powder, I am so pathetically pleading. ‘Such (says the Windsor Chronicle) was the unparalleled effrontery of the inhabitants of Brentford, during the late unexampled frost, when they should have thought of nothing but dying, that those very people, not worth a groat, starving, shivering, and in rags, dared to proceed in a body, amidst the dead silence of the night, with their unhallowed feet, into the sacred gardens of Richmond and Kew; where they wickedly, inhumanly, and feloniously, cut down and maimed a number of trees, many of which they had the impudence to carry away to their own scrub chimneys, to warm their own vile bones, because, forsooth, certain great people happened fortunately to be in possession of enormous quantities of wood, during the great scarcity, and chose not to give it away in idle charity, nor sell it at the then current price, which had every probability of mounting higher: as though they had not an equal right to turn a penny in an honest way, with any coal-shed man in the village of Brentford. But behold how they behaved on this insulting, provoking, stealing, and trying occasion! So far from advertising handsome rewards for discovering the rogues, and bringing them to justice; such was their clemency, that they ordered the affair to be hushed up, and buried in perpetual oblivion!!!’

The famous diamond, so infamously obtained by Mr. R.; constituting a curious piece of Asiatic history.

I am really afraid to touch upon this ticklish topic. The late procession of imperial presents from the India-House to ------ was attended by a dirty Custom-House-officer; but for what reason the L--- of the T--- can best explain. It has been rumoured, and believed, that a small order from a certain quarter can overpower an act of Parliament; which, if true, maketh a second edition of little David knocking down the great Giant of Gath.

The Architect.

Notwithstanding her m---'s immense property, in one thing and another, she possesses the most œconomical circumspection: witness the following pretty tale.— A Miss J*n*r, of Gloucestershire, with her mother, viewing the Palace of St. James's, and entering her M---'s dressing-room, where a cushion full of pins lay on her toilette, the young lady expressed a strong desire for having one of the q---'s pins to carry into the country, and was reaching out her hand to take one; when the attendant, struck with a sudden horror, caught her arm, and told her it was impossible to be granted, as her M--- would certainly find it out.— ‘D'ye think I might change a pin?’ sighed the young lady, with anxiety. ‘Miss,’ replied the attendant, after some consideration, ‘it is probable her M--- may not find that out, but I'll run the risk.’

Parcere sub jectis et debellare superbos.

Mr. Fox.

The late Lord Holland, elder brother of Mr. Fox.

In France, Switzerland, &c. are many of these pretty monuments of pride.

As one of the great supporters of morality, for such every muse should be, I have several times had it in contemplation to give this dame a public rap on the knuckles for certain parsimony to some of the poor disbanded and faithful servants of her household, after the death of her simple duke. The tale however is too full of matter for a solitary note, and may, some time or other, give importance to an ode.

This great lady kept one of the first sale-shops in England.

His most honourable majesty, our late good and firm ally, the King of Prussia, like the gentlemen of the bar, requires very often a refresher before his cannon can plead.

To avoid an ambiguity here (for I have been questioned about it), I mean the sweet-smelling rose of the fields, not Mr. George Rose, of the Treasury.

I principally allude in this place to the political character of this statesman, which is rather marked with severity. As for the domestic, it possesses some traits belonging to the Jolly God. Even Parliament last year saw him enter the walls of St. Stephen, arm in arm with his dear colleague and constant companion honest Harry Dundas; both fortunately conducted to the Treasury Bench without a fall, by the boozing reeling deity, where ‘Palinurus nodded at the helm.’

At the Old Bailey lately, in the affair of Mr. Horne Tooke, on the subject of delegation, when Mr. Memory Middleton was beat hollow by the prime minister.

A villa near Windsor, belonging to the queen.

This is absolutely determined on, in the Frogmore senate.

The reader will, at the first glance, perceive a resemblance between my ode, and the celebrated ode for St. Cecilia's Day by Dryden, and know perhaps to which he must yield the preference. In spite of all the praises bestowed on Alexander's Feast, I dare pronounce it, a downright drunken Bartholomew-Fair scene; the poetry too, not superior to the subject: whereas the Frogmore Gala was of the order of sublimity; and as for the merits of my muse on the glorious occasion (though indeed I could say a great deal in her favour) my good old friend, the public, must decide.

The Princess Elizabeth.

To the ignorant in punctuation, this passage may seem degrading; as though the poet meant Messrs. Carpmeal, Macmanus, Townsend, and Jealous, as a part of the peers; whereas no such idea was intended. I nevertheless entertain a high respect for those gentlemen, as very useful members of society; yet cannot place them so high—it is so astonishing a leap from Bow-street.

Witness Lord H---y, Lord A---d, Mr. G. R*se, Mrs. H---, &c. whose origins may be traced (as Mr. Burke emphatically expressed himself on a particular occasion) ‘to the swinish multitude.’

Not a single card of invitation was sent from Windsor or Carletonhouse. Violent were the r---l displeasures in the beginning; but the poet, in the true spirit of Christianity, hopes that he shall not be able to say, like the Liturgy, ‘As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end.’

DRYDEN.

Booths were formed, and filled with the trinkets of the Windsor shops; purchased by somebody or other of the inhabitants of Windsor at prime cost, and sold at Frogmore at about one thousand pounds per cent. Large quantities were retailed on the occasion: for who could withstand the temptation of carrying off a bit of majesty, which would crown the possessor with eternal glory, and support a charity?

To this degrading ceremony of prostration before his Chinese majesty, it is said, our embassy submitted. But how could it be helped? Every thing, to be sure, that could be devised for the honour and glory of Great Britain, was attempted by Ambassador and Co.; but beggars must not be choosers.

Lady H---rn---sse and her private card-parties know more of this matter than the poet. The sly nocturnal visits of a certain great lady's sedan-chair from the ------ are notorious.

A present, containing a scrap of complimentary rhime, manufactured by Kien Long himself, in answer to the Latin letter sent by the King of Great Britain (but not of his own composition) to the Emperor of China. Poor Sir George Staunton was made overseer of the Latinity; but as the knight had long forgotten his propriæ quæ maribus, the literary vigour of a German was employed for the occasion. Are our universities still in disgrace? Will nothing but Gottingen go down? In the sacred name of Literature, what have our princes imported from thence to astonish, that could not have been given by Cambridge and Oxford?

DRYDEN.

What a poetical and sublime compliment to the military of that day!

DRYDEN.

DRYDEN.

DRYDEN.

His m---y was verily the happiest gentleman in the world, and (si licet parvis componere magna) was as merry as a grig, vowing repetitions of the gala; but by what fatality it has not happened, not even the sagacity of the poet is able to discover.

My ingenious poem so called; not Mr. Pitt's ingenious tax on that subject, which, we are well informed, succeeds as miserably in produce, as reputation.

Great has been the massacre among the sturdy oaks, to make room for the courtier-like pliability of the corn-stalk, that brings mere grist to the royal mill.

Be it recollected with horror, that a stone was flung at our beloved sovereign in St. James's Park, about two or three years past, endangering his life; yet an impudent rhimer thought otherwise; who, on the occasion, had the audacity to write the following epigram:

Two tradesmen, who repair constantly from London to Weymouth, when royalty deigns to visit the spot.

The honest master of the Royal Hotel.

This mail-coach costs the public at least fifty pounds every day of the week (Sundays not excepted) during the king's residence at Weymouth—It is really a sutler's cart.

This high lord is really a high poet. His journey to Weymouth, which I was horribly afraid would have forestalled mine with the public, will make its appearance soon, and, I am informed, will be enriched, like my works, O marvelling reader! most elegantly bound at this time, and in the library, at Buckingham-house, with royal annotation.

The earl has won the royal smile, and is made a lord of the bed-chamber; but as capricious inconstancy is a prominent feature in the Brunswick family, a royal frown may be at no great distance.

Is not this sarcasm as applicable to thrones as hovels?

It is reported, but we hope falsely, that our metropolitan, as well as Mrs. M---e, are really tired with the number of poor creatures who, three times a week, have, from time immemorial, claimed the charitable donation of broth and meat from Lambeth Palace. It is moreover added, that a strong application has been made for the removal of this nuisance, but hitherto without success.

One of the Parklane triumvirate of sm*g*lers.

Never were the Αοιδοι, alias poets, in more disesteem than at the court of the Brunswicks. Homer, singing of such as were the greatest favourites of ancient monarchs mentions Ιητηρα Κακων, Τεκτονα, Δουρων, and Μαντιν, i.e. a doctor, a house carpenter, and a conjuror. These our beloved S---n, following this classical example of antiquity, has noticed and recommended: Doctor Willis, to parliament; Sir William Chambers, to the comptrollership of the board of works; and Signor Pinetti, to the patronage of all the conjurors of the metropolis.

Whether this notorious and lofty limb of the law will be hanged or not, even the prophetic powers of the Muse cannot foretell; but that a score of stolen sheep, which the owners swore to, were in this fellow's pens, exhibited for sale at a country fair, is a fact that admits of no contradiction. Many bets are pending; and the odds, as well as the hopes of the country, are on the rope.

The name of this young Strelitz man or prince is absolutely forgotten; but he is, or was, full brother to our most gracious queen.

Dr. Davies, the present provost of Eton college.

This most astonishing charity soon expired. The children of Famine poured in too plentifully upon the royal munificence; which very soon must have reduced majesty to the same most pitiable situation!

The place of Mr. Rowland Hill's chapel.

Mr. George Rose, of the Treasury, is the proprietor of two newspapers, misnomered the True Briton and Sun: the first, pleasantly fabulous; and the last, never emitting a single ray. They are intended, however, as two brazen pillars of our happy constitution, acquainting the world with every motion of majesty. George is really a character, and should be brought a little more forward on the political canvass. To continue the metaphor, this treasury gentleman has been kept too far in the back ground. A history of his life, parentage, and education, would prove a bonne bouche for the public.

The city of Bucephalus.

Two statues intended to adorn St. Paul's cathedral, and challenge the universe for sculpture. They are said to be meant for Howard and Johnson. Much money has been given for digging the two miserable objects out of the stone, and they have been put up: when will the poor exposed figures, for the honour of our national taste, and their own credit, be taken down? —Risum teneatis, amici?

How the Academy came to be baptized royal, I cannot conceive; as not a spangle of royal munificence ever threw a ray around its walls. Had it not been for the annual shillings of the charitable public, it must have died of famine long ago.

A gentleman who scrambled to Parnassus as he crept into the borough of Ludlow; and who, obtaining the alms of charity from a reviewer, informs the world that it is the free and unsolicited donation of Fame. A gentleman who fancies his poor cracked post-horn to be the trump of heroic poetry; and, ashamed of being a contemptible mute amidst his brethren of St. Stephen's, turns a roaring bully amongst the Muses. Possessed of a school-boy power of mouthing a few Greek polysyllables, who most ridiculously deems himself an Aristarchus; and who, childishly arrogating to himself the character of a legislator of taste in landscape-scenery, has received a severe and merited castigation, from men of real abilities, for his presumption.

Her majesty's own bishop, the œconomical Bishop of London; who, on his exaltation, sent circular letters to the clergy of his diocese, commanding them to inform him of the state of morality, religion, and the churches; at the same time, however, requesting, that the answers might not weigh more than one ounce. Poor morality, poor religion, poor churches! What! not worth the postage of a letter?

Sir Isaac Heard, garter king at arms.

The comparison of the present barren field of literature to the field of gibbets is new, apposite, and ingenious. Literature now is as dangerous as murder. Let Reeves be the interpreter, and every line of every pamphlet, verse or prose, shall, by this gentleman's sagacious commentary, smell of treason as strongly as the whisper of an anti-Pittite proclaims rebellion.—The editor.

Venice Preserved; condemned by authority to oblivion, on account of the numerous and violent plaudits bestowed on passages that seemed direct sarcasms on our present rulers.

The ass on which the great mistress of the robes was wont to take her airings, for health, through the royal gardens, which furnished much misfortune and amusement.

At a late assizes at Wells, at the Cathedral, this ludicrous affair happened.

When Johnson lodged at Kettle Hall, in the University of Oxford, at a Mr. Thompson's, a cabinet-maker; the maid, by an unfortunate mistake, brought him one day a chemise of Mrs. Thompson's to put on, instead of his own shirt. Contemplating on nothing but Ramblers and Idlers, and colossal Dictionaries, he shoved his arms and head and shoulders into the lady's linen before he discovered his error. ‘Who has cut off the sleeves of my shirt? who has cut off the sleeves of my shirt?’ exclaimed the enraged and hampered moralist, with Stentorian vociferation, dancing and tugging and foaming for freedom.—This roar brought up poor trembling Mrs. Thompson, who, with the most consummate delicacy, shutting her two chaste eyes, slipped her hand into the room, and delivered her giant guest from his enchanted castle.

It is an incontrovertible fact that Sir Joseph Banks proposed the plan of a throne for himself, and benches for foreign princes and ambassadors beneath him, whose heads might be on the same plane with the most noble president's ten toes. Dr. Horsley, the present bishop of Rochester, by a well-timed ridicule, put an end to the vision of vanity.