will you lead me?-One night, when we were all fast asleep and snoring, at least my, father was, for it was a villainous trick he had with his nose, and I have heard him declare my mother's nose was just as musical, so it is a fair presumption that they were both snoring, and, as we know that we derive many of our physical habits from our parents, at least Haller says so, and I am not arrogant enough to dispute the authority of so great a physiologist, there is every ground for logically inferring that I, being their child, and no doubt conceived in a snore -(I was certainly snored to many a time during the nine months of my gestation)-was performing on the same wind instrument at the same identical period of time as my honoured father and mother were playing on their bassoons; and thus the reader will readily perceive, without my pointing it out to him, the just and accurate, at least the probably just and accurate-and a high degree of probability amounts to moral certainty-nature of the expression I used above, namely, not only that we were all fast asleep, but all snoring. The reconciling of these apparently problematical matters, should never be neglected by a writer who aspires not only to please the imagination, but to satisfy the reason of his readers. Suppose for instance Good God! who will dare to deny the truth of that maxim which we have so often heard urged by moralists as a cause why we should be cautious in our conduct, viz. that no man certainly knows the scope of his intentions, when he beholds in me so striking an instance of its truth? Have I not said, and have I not meant to perform what I said, that I would continue my narrative without one more aberration, without one more divergent course from the main road of my text? And yet look at me now! Here am I at the end of my third chapter, and the reader knows no more how I came to be an inmate of Six Peter Pix's family, or to what the often used monosyllables "one night" refer, than he did at the commencement of this chapter. Sad incertitude of human affairs! Melancholy proof of the instability of man's mind! Deplorable instance of the mutability of things! I will not regret, however, that it has happened if I can think to myself, that any one who reads this volume has learned, from its occurrence, to rectify his notions of moral conduct, and to form the firm resolve of doing that, in this life, which he ought to do, without turning to the right or left in his progress, without listening to the syrens which beset his course, and which tempt him to deviate, but whose temptations he cannot yield to without finding himself, at the end, a loser, and a serious loser in the great account of human actions." From this sample the reader may form some idea of the manner in which the professed object of the narrative is evaded throughout the whole work, by introducing accidental tales, anecdotes, and opinions. We find also, at p. 163, the fragment of a satire entitled One Thousand Eight Hundred and Twelve, in which Mr. Walter Scott is thus invoked: "Stand forth thou minstrel of the simp'ring throng, King of eight syllables and feudal song; We have room only for one extract more, and that one shall be the character of the late Mr. Perceval, which we think is drawn with some fidelity. "The talent which Mr. Perceval possessed in debate was a dexterity in reply, which never forsook him. He was an acute arguer, with some degree of sophistry. The feeble parts of his adversary's attack he was sure to note, and through that feeble part he commonly made a breach by which he was enabled to assault the stronger holds of defence. His logical precision of conception was sometimes confused by a verbosity of expression. His mind was untired. The whole weight of the administration rested upon him, for his colleagues in office were quite unable to cope with the opposition; and he displayed a degree of skill and firmness in managing the House of Commons which few persons believed him to possess. The entire developement, indeed, of his character as a minister was produced by circumstances as they arose; and no man perhaps ever won opinion from prejudice more perseveringly or more successfully than he did. There was an appearance of candour and sincerity in his manner, which irresistibly prepossessed those who saw and heard him; so much so, that I believe I may safely affirm, he never embraced any opinion, or continued to act upon any opinion, but from a firm and unfeigned conviction of its propriety. "His errors," said Mr. Canning, " were the errors of a virtuous mind." "One art he pre-eminently possessed: that of conciliating those whom he opposed. He never seemed to argue with anger. Conscious that he had a right to maintain his own sentiments, he always appeared to act as if he felt that the same right belonged to every other individual. He completely exemplified the maxim, fortiter in re, suaviter in modo. He played about an opponent, but always made advances: he smiled at him with the very spirit of benevolence, but never failed while he smiled to aim the blow he was intending. In subtlety he was certainly unequalled in the House of Commons; but it must be allowed he had the common fault of too much refinement-he sometimes so spiritualized his ideas, that he was not always intelligible. He possessed considerable powers of raillery, which he knew exactly when to apply, and he applied them in a manner that amused rather than offended. He was often sarcastic too, and sometimes bitterly so. I have seen him most triumphantly successful in sarcasm against an Honourable Baronet, and especially on a very recent occasion, upon that Honourable Baronet's antipathy to the horse-guards. Even in the very last speech he delivered, that upon Mr. Brand's motion for Parliamentary Reform (Friday, May 8th), he was very happy in replying to some members who had inveighed against ministerial majorities, as composed chiefly of place-men and pensioners. The suavity of his : manner, however, never forsook him and it was hardly possible to be offended with a man who never seemed to wish to offend any one. Whoever has watched his public life must have been often struck with the extraordinary skill and energy with which he constantly met the united attacks of the opposition: never dismayed, never disconcerted, never reduced to the necessity of surrender. On nights of important debate, he would sit a whole evening through, listen to the speeches on both sides, rise at two or three o'clock in the morning, and with almost incredible vivacity and dexterity reply to them all; and if he did not always produce conviction, he at least removed many doubts and many objections. "With regard to the policy of his measures, it is not my intention to say any thing: I shall conclude by observing, that, take him altogether, I know not the man who is capable of filling exactly the same station. Perhaps, indeed, there may be some one thus capable, whom circunstances and an opportunity may draw forth, as they did Mr. Perceval: but, at the present moment, such a man does not politically exist." FROM THE SAME. Poetical Vagaries; containing an Ode to We, a Hackneyed Critic; Low Ambition, or the Life and Death of Mr. Daw; a Reckoning with Time; the Lady of the Wreck, or Castle Blarneygig; Two Parsons, or the Tale of a Shirt. By George Colman, the younger. 1 vol. 4to. 1812. ALL who have read the former work of this writer, My Night-gown and Slippers, and remember the wit and humour which distinguished that production, will turn with no ordinary curiosity to a similar work from the same pen. We will venture to assure Mr. Colman, that the present volume will add largely to his reputation in the opinion of all those who relish wit and sprightliness. We will not, however, indulge in general encomiums, but do that which will be more acceptable to the reader, extract for his amusement some of the many happy passages which are scattered throughout the volume. The Ode to WE, a hackneyed critic, has the least interest of any, but we find in Low Ambition, or The Life and Death of Mr. Daw, every thing to remind us of the facetious muse of George Colman. Mr. Daw, the reader must know, was a gentleman singularly remarkable for the ugliness of his person and face; but he had merit and he had ambition. His merit lay in the exquisite accuracy with which he personated, on the stage, bulls, boars, and tigers. Put him into the bellies of either of those animals, and he became immediately a first-rate performer. There was his merit. But Mr. Daw had ambition also, and that ambi tion was to be without a rival in his peculiar path of excellence. It happened, however, that an elephant was to be introduced on the stage, and one man being introduced between its pasteboard sides would evidently be unable to move it. Mr. Daw, therefore, was to have a partner on this occasion, and in that partner he saw a rival, for reasons which will be better told in our author's own words : A pasteboard elephant, of monstrous size, That Mr. Daw should fill the hinder quarters. The HINDER quarters!!!—here was degradation ! He swore a tragic oath-" by her who bore him!" "He'd rather live on husks, Or dine upon his nails, Than quit first parts, under the trunks, and tusks, " 'Twas due to his celebrity, at least, If he should so far condescend To represent the moiety of a beast, That he should have the right to choose which end.” The managers were on the stage, To whom he thus remonstrated, in rage. "I've been chief lion and first tiger, here, That you may tell me, matters not a souse; All London says I am the greatest boar “Of all Insides, the town likes me the best; Though this address was coarser than jack-towels, Yet, when a man acts nothing else but bowels, And if obdurate managers could feel A little more than flint or steel, If they had any heart, On hearing such a forcible appeal, They might have let the man reject the part. All the head manager said to it, ་ Was simply thus, " Daw, you must do it." And, after all, the manager was right; But how to make the fact appear Incontrovertible and clear, And place it in its proper light,— Come, let me try-Reader, 'twould make you sweat, (You'll pardon the expression) To see two fellows get, With due discretion, One upright, one aslant,— Into the entrails of an elephant: For, if you'll have the goodness to reflect On the construction of these huge brute creatures, And the beast's shape requires, particularly, Now, the new inside man, you'll find, Therefore 'twas fit that Daw should walk behind, Daw, for a time, with jealousy was rack'd, Nevertheless, Like other politicians in the nation, Rather than lose his situation, And give up all the loaves and fishes. The house was cramm'd,-the elephant appear'dWith three times three, the elephant was cheer'd; Shouts and huzzas the ear confound! |