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property. I understand, from some of gular fact accounted for, I asked The other guests, that she has the re- Lady Die-hard whether Mrs. Fuzputation of being the most scandal- mutin had been married more than ous old woman in the world; and once. that she is particularly hated, by all • Oh, dear, no, not that I ever the young and pretty girls here,' for heard,' replied her ladyship. But the lies she invents, and the ill- why do you ask?' natured things she says of them. • Because,' I said, her daughters

Another lady of searcely less im- are of such different appearances, that portance, and, if less, only inferior to I should have thought they were by Lady Die-hard, is Mrs. Hornblower. different marriages." She is excessively fat; still more vul- "Oh, for shame,' said the countess, gar than fat; and, with a voice like a trying another version of Miss Hor. link-boy's, she is always carrying on a net's signal. “She was never married conversation during dinner with some but once. I have heard, but I cannot one at the other end of the table. Her tell you how true the story is, that obstreperous coarseness is beautifully she was the wife of a sailor, who died contrasted with Lady Die-hard's super- in the West Indies, and left her wholly fine quality airs; and, although they are unprovided for. She had the good both sufficiently disagreeable, I could fortune to captivate the fancy of Mr. sometimes hug the fat old dame Horn- Fuzmuffin, an eminent planter, then blower for the delightful impudence advanced in years. My cousin Sulliwith which she contradicts the count- van, who was captain of the Firedrake ess as often as opportunity offers.- sloop of war, used to talk often of Another of our guests is a Miss Grace Mrs. Fuzmuffin, who had treated him Hornet, who, I am told, is a blue- with great hospitality at Jamaica, stocking of no small pretensions. I where he took the fever while his ship had the good (or ill) fortune to sit was repairing. You would have been next her at dinner, and she was kind ready to die with laughing at hearing enough let me in the characters him describe the wretched old man of some of my neighbours. She is a she was married to; and I assure you lean pale-faced light-haired person, that the second girl, Seraphina, is the of what one may venture to call a very picture of him.' critical age; for it is just that at which I looked as she spoke at the young people, who are not so ceremonious lady, and the likeness was indeed as I, would say she had attained the strong enough to make me think I honourable title of an Old Maid.' saw Roger Sullivan's broad goodI could not say so for the world, as humoured stupid face, blue eyes, and well because the natural forbearance curling flaxen hair, before me. of my temper would not allow me, as is indeed very like Captain Sullivan,' because, if I did, and she knew it, she I said.. would put me into the novel which, The likeness may be accidental, as upon balf an hour's acquaintance said my Lady Die-hard, “and Heaven she told me, she is writing. Next to forbid that we should say any thing her in consequence is Mrs. Fuzmuf- to affect the good woman's reputafin, a fat West India widow, with tion; but you are a discreet person, three daughters, of complexions and and will not talk of this again;' (you features so various, that no one would see how I obey her ladyship's caution;) suppose they were related. I heard and, since we are upon the subject,' some one say they were sisters; and, she continued, “I may tell you that doubting the fact, I asked Miss Hor- the youngest girl, who is almost a net, who first simpered, then put on mulatto, is not yet seventeen years a serious look, attempted a blush, and old; while I know very well that the said, with her eyes cast down— I am old planter, Fitzmuffin, has been told so.? I saw something was wrong, dead more than eighteen years. They and that Miss Hornet intended to have, however, all of them great fortelegraph some kind of scandal by her tunes; and the old mamma brings grimaces. I would not indulge her them here to get them off. She has the by asking an explanation; and, as I impudence to think that I will assist had some curiosity to have this sin- her, but she is mistaken.'


• Think of poor Roger Sullivan, tured to say so), and after the bard dear Lady Die-hard,'I said; ' can you service he has seen in the army, he look at the broad Atlantic of that un- is not capable of any romantic feel. meaning flat face, and not think of ing. Still he can love quite well the poor captain's? Wasn't he your and warmly enough to make any flesh and blood ? and isn't Miss Sera- reasonable woman happy. There is phina'

an air of sadness, which, in spite of all • Hush!' said her ladyship, 'the her efforts, and the natural comvulgar old mother approaches us. placency of her temper, at times is My dear Mrs. Fuzmuffin,” she said apparent in Mrs. Wilton's fine counimmediately, and without blushing, tenance, and which makes me think although I was still within hearing, some incurable sorrow is preying upon • how charmingly your three girls her heart. When I told O'Brady look! Do you know I heard Sir this, he laughed at me, and said, Bumble Puppy to-day say they were * Don't I remember,' said he, in his the handsomest girls in Leamington: rattling way, the first time I was in And then he compared them to the love myself? By my soul, I uttered cast of Canova's Graces, which stands more sighs in an hour than you could in the lounging-room; but he said get out of any two pair of bellows in that they surpassed the invention of all Kerry. The dear creature's grief the sculptor, because, while they is only for fear I wouldn't make her possessed as much beauty, they dis- Mrs. O'Brady; but I'll soon comfort played it in all possible variety. her, and convince her how much she

Mrs. Fuzmuffin did not understand is mistaken. It's nothing at all, I one syllable of what her kind friend tell you, but love;' and off he ran, had been saying to her, but she re- singing. plied at a venture, 'I can't say, my C'est l'amour, l'amour, l'amour. lady, that ever I saw these Miss Among the male inhabitants of our Comeovers as you mentioned; but ark we have some oddities not a jot my girls needn't be afraid of showing behind the female part of guests their faces along with any in Lea- in singularity. Sir Bumble Puppy is mington.'

one of the greatest coxcombs for his I did not wait to hear the conclu- age that you ever beheld. He is now sion of the discourse between these nearly sixty, dresses in a most youthtwo ladies, because my disgust at the ful style, and wears nearly as many duplicity of the countess, and a different colours as there are separate strong inclination to laugh at the articles in his habiliments. other lady's mistake, made me think expect to see him appear some mornit would be safest to decamp without ing with stockings of different colours, loss of time.

like Touchstone in the play. Miss The lady, upon whom O'Brady has Grace Hornet is very fond of promeresolved to confer the distinction of nading it with the baronet; and, as being his wife, is here also. She, too, there are few ladies besides who will is a widow, but very much unlike all accept of his escort, he is glad to the persons I have been describing to avail himself of her protection. She you: she is about six-and-twenty years is affected and pedantic to an insufof age, extremely handsome, of an ferable degree, and delights in classiagreeable disposition, as far as I can cal illusions. She came the other judge, and of very polished manners. evening, leaning, on Sir Bumble O'Brady is unremittingly attentive Puppy's arm, to the end of the room to her; and, although she receives all at which O'Brady and I were standhis assiduities, yet I suspect she will ing, to summon us, in the name of not be persuaded to admit any warmer Lady Die-hard, to a quadrille. I sentiment for him than that esteem come,' she lisped out, twisting her which his open manly character is lean neck into all kinds of ugly sure to inspire. , He is unquestionably forms at the same time, by comvery much attached to her; I don't mand of the queen goddess, to call say in love, for at his years (he being you to her throne. "I am Iris, the as you know, four-and-thirty, though messenger of Juno.' he would call any inan out who ven. * I am sure you are, and nobody

I really else,' said O'Brady, because you are person, says that, owing to the parson never seen without your many-co- and Miss Hornet, there are two loured beau.'

languid and more disagreeable Graces • Excessively good, upon my ho- at this table than at any he ever met nour,' drawled out Sir Bumble Pup- before. Nothing but his function py : ' very brilliant indeed, Captain has saved him from O'Brady's reO’Brady; and he repeated the pun sentment. He dared to cast his as well as he could, sometiines cor- clerical eyes at Mrs. Wilton with an rectly, sometimes incorrectly, to all expression of admiration, which is the people who would listen to him, high treason against the captain's ending every version with “Isn't it dignity; and he caught him, besides, uncommonly good now?' and make talking to her about a society for ing himself ridiculous with a most distributing baby-linen. He swears astonishing pertinacity.

that the parson is attempting to cant The Reverend Mr. "Flint is a tall himself into her good graces; and, languishing sentimental parson, who for any own part, I can't help sustalks with the young ladies, and pecting that he is a great hypocrite. makes himself interesting upon all Such are some of the guests here, possible occasions. He says Grace at and I expect they will produce me dinner, and is so long about it that some amusement. If they do, you the soup gets chilled before he has may rely on my communicating it to finished: O'Brady, who is a graceless you; and that I am always yours, &c.

CLINTON'S LIFE AND WRITINGS OF LORD BYRON.* Among the many volumes which of a painter or a sculptor, or an have been published, since the lament- architect, unless the productions upon ed death of Lord Byron, relating to which their several reputations are him, we have seen none which, in all established should be described in respects, satisfies us so well as this. words, or represented by engravings? It 'supplies a deficiency which has Not less expedient is it that the life been felt to a great extent, and at of a poet should be accompanied by the same time pays a just tribute to analytical descriptions, criticisms, and the illustrious memory of the great- extracts, of such a nature as may enest poet of our times. The life of able the reader to form an estimate such a poet as Lord Byron would be of the justness of the opinions which comparatively uninteresting, but for are expressed concerning the poet. the immediate reference and connex- In the volume before us this end ion which it must necessarily have seems to have been very successfully to his works. Devoted as the attained. It presents a regular and greater part of his existence was to well-written account of the principal the composition of poems, which incidents of Lord Byron's life, up to must last as long as the English lan- the period of his making his first apguage is spoken, a critical notice of pearance in the literary world. His those poems, and a history of the juvenile poems, now become doubly times at which they were written, interesting, are given at some length. and of the circumstances which, in The criticism which they provoked, some instances, influenced their pro- and the revenge which the poet took duction, seems as essential a part of upon his assailants, are also described 'the life of Lord Byron as the de- with sufficient minuteness. From this tail of the events which befell him; period his lordship’s life and his liteand which differ in few respects-ex- rary productions are inseparably concepting its catastrophe, perhaps, in nected; and they are treated of in none from those which fall to the

this natural junction, which it would ordinary lot of mankind. In the life be impossible to loosen without inof a general, a description of the jury to both. The extracts are nubattles in which he signalized himself merous and copious: necessarily reis an important and necessary part of stricted within certain bounds, in orit. Who could understand the life der that they may not infringe upon * Memoirs of the Life and Writings of Lord Byron. By George Clinton. Robins, 1825.

VOL. 1.-No. 7.

2 v

the property of others, they are still sioned him amusement. He says that in extensive enough to enable the gene- Turkey the valet used always to be sighing ral reader to form a correct estinate after the delights he had left in England, of their merit, and to convey a just among which were included beef, porter, idea of the subjects to which they tea, and his wife Sally. His fears (for relate, as well as of the interest valour was no part of Fletcher's characwhich they create. The voluminous when it was necessary for the travellers to

ter) were troublesome enough sometimes, nature of Lord Byron's poems renders

“ assume the virtue of courage if they had it obvious that they are not within it not.” When the letters from Lord Byron the reach of every class of readers; to his mother shall be published--and but this volume, which, for its size, why they are withheld no man can guess, is singularly cheap, will enable all for there is not a word in them to hurt persons to acquire such an acquaint- the feelings of any human being—it will ance as almost every man ought to be seen that the faithful servant cuts a possess with the works of this poet. prominent and always a funny figure. In It has been deeply and bitterly re

one of them, if we remember rightly, Lord gretted, by many sincere admirers of Byron says something to this effect: Lord Byron, that his · Don Juan’ is roasted, and baked, and grilled, and eaten

“ Fletcher, after having been toasted, not a proper book to be put into the by all sorts of creeping things, begins hands of all persons, and that the to philosophize ; is grown

a refined mind of youth may be inflamed and as well as a resigned character; and depraved, and that the modesty of promises at his return to be an ornament that sex, of which modesty is the to his own parish, and a very prominent chief ornament, may be wounded, by person in the future family pedigree of the anindiscriminate perusal of the whole Fletchers, who I take to be Gotha by their of that poem. This is the more accomplishments, Greeks by their acutelainentable, because · Don Juan' con

ness, and ancient Saxons by their appetite. tains, mixed up with much of that He, Fletcher, begs leave to send half a which has deserved these severe re- wonders (though I do not) that his ill

dozen sighs to Sally, his spouse, and prehensions, some of the most ex

written and worse spelt letters have never quisitely pure and passionate poetry come to hand. As for that matter, there that our whole literature can pro- is no great loss in either of our letters, duce. In the volume of which we saving and except that I wish you to speak this difficulty has been ob- know that we are well, and warm enough viated, and the poem is described so at this present writing.' God knows you as to make it perfectly intelligible, must not expect long letters at present, for while none of the extracts are at all they are written with the sweat of my objectionable.

brow, I assure you." It is difficult to select extracts Lord Byron used to say that Fletcher from a work like these Memoirs, vexed him past endurance upon one occabecause every part of them is equally he was near shooting him. It was when

sion, when he was so much provoked that interesting. The following, however, Lord Byron was visiting the Pantheon ; shows, in an original point of view, and, while his soul was burning with ina personage who has been much dignation at the havoc which had been talked of-Lord Byron's servant, committed there, Fletcher came up to him Fletcher :

with a look of ineffable stupidity, and said, • Lord Byron was attended during the pointing to one of the massy fragments of whole of his stay in Venice by his servant the ruin, “ Law! if we had this marvel in Fletcher, who seems to have been as England, what nice mantel-pieces we faithful and as foolish a servant as ever could make out of it, my lord.” It will man had. This man had been a shoe- be admitted this was enough to move the maker in the neighbourhood of Newstead, choler of a less irritable person than Lord and was so much attached to his master Byron. Poor Fletcher, however, escaped that he even found courage enough to ac- shooting. company him on his travels in the East ;-- • Lord Byron was at all times of his no unequivocal proof of affection in a man life plagued by female correspondents, who hated foreign parts, and loved a wife some of whose letters breathed the passion whom he left at home. Lord Byron’s with which his lordship's poetry had inletters to his mother were full of jokes spired them in no equivocal language. about Fletcher, who seems to have given His lordship did not treat their favours as him at least as much trouble as he occa, they deserved, for, if he did not choose to

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reply to the epistles, he should have con- will never more bear fruit or blossom! It signed them to the flames. He had no has been cut down in its strength, and secrets himself, and was the worst man in the past is all that remains to us of Byron. the world to keep those of other people : We can scarce reconcile ourselves to the the letters were tossed about, and fell into idea-scarce think that the voice is silent Fletcher's hands, who, when he had a for ever, which, bursting so often on our love-letter to compose on his own account, ear, was often heard with rapturous adavailed himself of the passionate expres- miration, sometimes with regret, but sions of his master's fair correspondents. always with the deepest interest: One of his favourite figures extracted from * All that's bright must fade, one of these letters, and that which he The brightest still the feetest." used when he wanted to make an irresisti. • With a strong feeling of awful sorrow ble impression upon the object of his we take leave of the subject. Death passion, was to say, that he was

a blast

creeps upon our most serious as well as ed laurel struck by a metre.

upon our most idle employments; and it is The assiduity with which he imitated a reflection solemn and gratifying that he his master's whimsical extravagances, and found our Byron in no moment of levity, which, odd as they were in poor Lord but contributing his fortune, and hazardByron, became in Fletcher's travestimento ing his life, in behalf of a people only ena thousand times more funny, procured deared to him by their past glories, and as him the nick-name of Leporello, by which fellow-creatures suffering under the yoke title Lord Byron usually designated him. of a heathen oppressor.

To have fallen Notwithstanding these and some other in a crusade for freedom and humanity, as oddities, Fletcher was a very affectionate in olden times it would have been an and faithful servant to a master who de- atonement for the blackest crimes, may in served a good servant, and who knew his the present be allowed to expiate greater good qualities too well not to look at his follies than even exaggerated calumny has whimsicalities in the right point of view.' propagated against Byron.' Nothing can be more interesting

The author of the volume ends than the contemplation of the manner in which such a poet as Sir Walter with the following passage, in which Scott speaks of Lord Byron: the

we heartily concur :praise he bestows upon him is true

• The death of Lord Byron has, howto the letter. The justice and elo- ever, reconciled all opinions. Envy is quence with which it is expressed are dead, and that spirit of criticism which as honourable to the writer's judg- induced some persons to cavil at what ment, as the kind and touching tone they had neither hearts to feel nor heads of manly sorrow which pervades it to understand is at rest for ever. The is to his heart :

bitterness of the griet'which Lord Byron's

decease occasioned has also lost much of • As various in composition as Shak

its force, and it is now regarded only as a speare himself (this will be admitted by all who are acquainted with his “ Don

loss deep and irreparable, but one which

must be endured. In the mean time his Juan”), he has embraced every topic of fame has soared to the highest point, and, human life, and sounded every string on the divine harp, from the slightest to its in all the range of English poetry, there most powerful and heart-astounding tones.

are few who claim a more brilliant place. There is scarce a passion or a situation

In the memory of all who knew him he which has escaped his pen ; and he might who breathed the same air with him shall

will live while they exist; and, when all be drawn, like Garrick, between the weep.- have gone to join him in the world which ing and the laughing Muse, although his he now inhabits, his works will hold the most powerful efforts have certainly been dedicated to Melpomene.

His genius

same station as they now occupy in the

minds of all men while the literature of seemed as prolific as various. The most

England shall continue. This shall be prodigal use did not exhaust his

powers, nay, seemed rather to increase their vis really to live, and in this fame is the real gour. Neither“ Childe Harold,” nor any

triumph over the grave. of the most beautiful of Byron's earlier

He is not dead, he does but sleeptales, contain more exquisite morsels of

He hath awakened from the dream of poetry than are to be found scattered through the cantos of “ Don Juan,” 'Tis we, who, lost in stormy visions, amidst verses which the author appears

keep to have thrown off with an effort as spon- With phantoms an unprofitable strife, taneous as that of a tree resigning its

And in mad trance strike with our leaves to the wind. But that noble tree

spirit's knife

lite :

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