Page images
PDF
EPUB

blush ;

What a beautiful variety of magnificent , merit. The simply ornamented boxes prospects did nature present to his view! || caused the beauteous fair, so desirous of Rocks, whose summits supported the skies, being admired, to shine with additional whose flanks pour forth thousands of cas lustre. In spite of the inclemency of the cades, which fall roaring into impenetrable weather, these inconsiderate females exposabysses; the river, of which they form the ed the contour of their ivory arms, and inorigin, which at first, as a simple rivulet | discreetly bared their bosoms; the breath glides gently across the meadows, swollen of Zephyrus seemed to be the only veil they within a short interval by immense tributes, I wished should conceal their charms. The would lay waste distant lands, if the work eyes of the enraptured spectators wandered of man opposed not its ravages; those over the enchanting groups, at a loss, as it bridges whose proud lofty arches command were, which to rest upon. Numbers of its majestic waves; the golden harvests, || those fair, with a prism in their hand, comthe verdant vines, and the antique forests. | pelled to cast down their looks, such youths But whatever enraptures the cheerful tra as had not yet been taught not veller, appears insignificant, far from excit

Nadir alone was noticed by none of them. ing admiration, in the agitated mind of Jealousy and spite gnaw his vitals to such Nadir. The outrages he has endured from a degree, that he loses sight of his being an his enemies engross his whole attention ; || author. The applause that is lavished on he recalls to his mind a thousand circum his rival is nothing in his estimation ; but stances that ought at least to have prevent to be scorned and neglected by the unjust ed their speedy triumph. Where shall he fair sex is unbearable. He strives to get go to expose his disgrace? Shall he return out, paces the lobby, and mutters some dire to Elma ? No. Stupid vanity, so often complaints. But he may be revenged; the reverse of noble pride, checks his pro- || he opens his little book, and pronounces gress. He is determined not to meet his the words graces and beauty, resumes his friend again till he can show himself crown- || seat in front, and negligently reclines on the ed with glory. But what is he to do until | balustrade. He catches the eye of a lady, such time as he has gained that point? It who immediately cries out, “what an agreewas not in solitude that he could find the able surprise!" another exclaims in a similar means of filling up the chasm that he had manner, and all the belles instantly point opened to himself: once more he must seek their prisms towards · Nadir; they whisper the company of those men whom he had to each other, and rise from their seats to loaded with imprecations, and he accord- have a full view of him. The tragedy ingly returned to the metropolis. At any being no longer paid attention to by the rate, he thought it advisable to change his female part of the audience, creates disapname, and to take other lodgings. Super- probation; the male performers are no longer fluous precaution! Who could have listened to,and the actresses, forgetful of their known him again? He was no longer the majesty, like other weak mortals, stop, and man in fashion. Exasperated at the inat

remain silent to stare, in admiration, at our tention he was treated with, he thought hero. In the mean time the author rushed it announced the downfal of the empire, on the stage, harangues the performers, ad. and gave himself up to that coarse, blunt dresses the public, weeps, and tears off his misanthropy, which, among certain civi. | hair by handfulls; it is all in vain, the piece lized nations, is decorated with the high is damned—a due reward of his animosity appellation of philosophy.

against Nadir! One day that he saw a crowd at the door By this time a lady, no longer in the of the national theatre, he felt inclined to bloom of youth, but whose diamonds were see the performance of a new drama, com of the finest water, and in great profusion, posed by one of his most celebrated rivals. | bad drawn near the new Adonis, and reThe house had recently been repaired. quested he would have the goodness to One hundred tubes, suspended by a silk and protect her home. Nadir, stretching out gold tissue, spread a soft and equal light his hand, accompansed her to her carriage, with a magnificence hitherto unknown. at sight of which the whole swarm of her In an extensive amphitheatre were placed rivals shuddered with rage and malice, the judges (seldom impartial) of dramatic

(To be continued.)

[ocr errors]

THE LISTENER.

[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

TO TIMOTHY HEARWELL, ESQ. not, but somehow or other we were alSIR, I hope you will pardon my pre ways meeting whenever I took a quiet sumption in the comparison I am walk alone by permission of papa and about to make ; but, alas ! dear, good old mamma, who were truly indulgent in geutleman, I must say, that I think there many instances, particularly in letting me is a great similarity between us. You com

have plenty of pocket-money, without menced author, and determined to lead a

ever asking me what I did with it! Scarce towu life, at a very advanced age, and I, had my love been slily declared for the kept as recluse as yourself, by a father, steward's daughter, when her father died, who set forth the world as a sink of depra || and left poor Anne, in her nineteenth year, vity, and a mother, who pinned me to her without a penny. I took her privately as apron-string, as soon as ever I was delivered

a mistress, and kept her at a village a short from their dominion, which was not till I distance off, where I used to ride out every was fifty-five years of age, became, by this morning before my father and mother were emancipation, master of a plentiful estate,

up, who, now grown very infirm, never to use as I pleased.

rose till very late in the day. When I be. I accordingly, but I own awkwardly

came in possession of my estate I was still enough, drove my barouche and four greys constant to my first and only amour; and into London, resolving not to leave it till I | when came up to London I established had become a buck of the first water : and

Aune as my housekeeper, and though 1 dash and notoriety, let them cost what they had no idea of the art of modern love, I would, I was resolved to obtain before I

was determined to make a dash in mardied. Amongst other strange maxims | riage, and obtain a dashing wife. which my father endeavoured to iuculcate But in order to avoid prolixity, I will rein my mind, was a dread of the fairest part | late, in brief, my London adventures. It of the creation : he represented women as was not long before I perceived that the wily syrens, lying in wait to entrap man character of a rake seemed most acceptakiud by their allurements. I was, either ble to the ladies, and that even a man who through fear or love, certainly a very duti had seluced the wife of his friend was reful son; I looked on my parents as the ceived with welcome and delight, in some certain oracles of truth, whereby ought of the first circles of females, styled modest. to regulate my conduct; yet, in spite of all || 1 instantly, then, on this discovery, at their prohibitious, I found that at the age fifty-five, resolved to be a professed liberof six-and-twenty I was no longer able tine: my natural good health and activity, to withstand the charms of female conver with the assistance of my tailor aud perukesation, nor could I longer shut my eyes | maker, who made me a most elegant milling against a beautiful, or even agreeable coun peruke, to look like nature, enabled me to tenance, if it belonged to woman. Forms, | pass for twenty years younger than I really moulded by the Graces, would sometimes And thus equipped I set out one fit before me, when I attended, by the evening, telling my housekeeper I should side of papa and mamma, the races at a not be at home, perhaps, much before peighbouring town; where, though arrived twelve the next day. at that age where discretion certainly is My first ramble was to Covent-Garden come, if she means to come at all, my mo Theatre, where I to my stand in one of ther kept a very strict watch over my looks ; || the upper boxes, by the side of an enchantand I blushed and hung down my head | ing beauty, whose apparent innocence and with shame, if ever she caught my ardent | modesty won my notice. With much reeyes wandering after any of these divinities | luctance, she entered into conversation in petticoats.

with me, and frequently lamented her inMy father's steward had a very pretty discretion in coming by herself to an amuseyoung daughter, at that time about fifteen, ment she was so passionately fond of. when I was double that age: whether she After the second act was over, she begged purposely threw herself in my way I know' me to see her to her carriage; when great

was.

[ocr errors]

was her disappointment at not finding | housemaid, could not conceal the loftiness either that or her servants, though she had of her mien. This was, I felt assured, some ordered them to be in waiting. I offered woman of quality, and a conquest worthy to escort her home, and to this she gladly my pursuit: 1 poured some flattering nonconsented; but scarce had we entered the sense into her ear, as I must own rather to Piazza when a rough, sea-faring looking my surprise, she went out of the door at the man, seized her rudely by the arm, and same time as myself, unattended, I soon asked me with an oath, where I was taking found it was one of the stripli:g bucks of his wife? I explained; he owned himself, the day, in female attire, and who now with though uncouthly, much obliged to me, a loud manly voice and a volley of oaths, and his fair moitié accidentally dropped | asked me if I took him for an immodest her glove, as a set of half-price people were

woman? This was not all; he accompaa crowding towards the play-house : I picked nied his words with so violent a box on the it up, and holding her husband's arm, the ear, as seut me and my fine harlequin's young lady gracefully took leave of me; || glittering vest into the muddy kennel. but I soon found myself minus a gold watch

This affected me more than a month's seriand a new silk handkerchief.

ous reflections and resolutions could posThis was enough to prevent me from sibly have done. I shuddered at my folly, encountering any other nocturnal adven- in attempting, at my age, to pass for a ture; but a masquerade at the Opera-house youug dasher. I swore mentally eternal tempted me to enter and join the motley constancy to my housekeeper; but on my throngs. How men mistake their talent! arrival home at about eleven the next fore. Of all disguises in the world, I adopted noon, I found she had that morning marthat of an harlequin; and my awkward ried my butler, at St. George's, Hanoverefforts at agility, and total inability to sup- square, who had resolved to keep her to port the character, drew on me universal himself from my valet de chambre and me. attention and peals of laughter. I was,

Now, Sir, though young enough to be however, at length, tenderly attacked by your son, I am yet old enough to give ada smart looking Columbiné, whose face vice; therefore, when you

find was covered with a very pretty mask; and ings grow tedious and “smell of the lamp," on our retiring to an adjoiving apartment, take warning by the fall of your humble where I besought her to unmask, I could servant, and leave off before you make not help turning from her with disgust, yourself as ridiculous as when I found she was at least as old as

SIMON AFTERDAY. myself; and the good dowager, also, hav. ing taken me for another person, we were

I cannot but feel obliged to Mr. Afterday mutually glad to get rid of each other.

for his advice; but as our pursuits have so I was ever an admirer of tall women,

different a tendency, I cannot find the siand as I quitted the Opera-house, my heart milarity betweeu us which he is pleased to

discover. beat high at the sight of a fine female figure, who, though in the humble disguise of an

THE LISTENER.

your writ.

[ocr errors][ocr errors]

THE EFFECTS OF THE LONG WAR ON THE MORALS AND MANNERS

OF THE FRENCH.

[ocr errors]

It may be said that, of late, Frenchy houses and shops of the merchants were men seemed to believe that their sons were filled with muskets, sabres, helmets, and born only for the service of war. The all the trappings of war; and it was war ideas, the efforts of every one, seemed alone which found them employment. The to point that way as to the centre of habi-trader became only a purveyor, and the tual existence; the workshops became minister of commerce might very well be arsenals, and nothing was fabricated, no

mistaken for the minister of war. thing was sold but arms, or what had some Those edifices which were raised for connection with military affairs. The ware- || public education, were nothing more, in No. 62.-Vol. X

R

reality, than a kind of military college; were lifted up to it, and it seemed requisite they were raised at the blast of the bugle to their very existence. Children, marked and the sound of the drum. The first out for the conscription from their cradles, clothing a child received was an uniform ; . like sheep for the slaughter, led, from that the most important part of his education age till their departure for the army, a life was to learn to carry his head aloft, to in which there was no order or calculation march in time, and handle a rifle. Certain of future establishment; they were always it is, that a generation born in the midst of good enough to go and perish in the ranks these ideas, and amidst such an order of as private soldiers on the field of battle: things, cannot see it in the same ridiculous those who were ambitious of instructing light as their forefathers; neither can it themselves, were desirous only of becoming give them the same serious reflections. purveyors, commissaries, contractors, or Obļiged to take the world as they found it, directors of hospitals, surgeons, conductors they figured to themselves, without doubt, of artillery, or assistant engineers. Every · that the condition imposed upon them was one rushed like a torrent into military ad. natural to human existence, and that they ministrations, so that war drew all towards only received life themselves to learn how | it, and absorbed not only every thought, to deprive others of the valuable gift. Forty | but gave a check to industry. years hence all the world would have im But one of the greatest inconveniences of bibed the same idea, and the successors of this eternal war, was its influence on the Bonaparte would have certainly enjoyed French character: by associating with nathe effects of it.

tions less polite they lost that elegant urThis idea has already obtained too great | banity for which they have long been justly an influence over the minds of the French. famed. They became negligent of all forms, Children were not the only ones who fa- , and their manners and language became miliarized themselves to the idea of conti- | tinctured with rudeness and barbarity; tinual war; parents had already began to they became severe, impatient, and quarrel. make their calculations on it, and looked some. If an officer had good sense, merit, forward to a distant period, when they and education, he fancied he had no occamight buy off their sons from conscription : | sion to cultivate them amongst a people every family ecouomized, denied themselves who could not understand him, and whom, many comforts to lay something by for such | indeed, these officers inspired only with an event. Mothers wept when they brought | aversion: the minds of Frenchmen became forth male children, doomed to sacrifice by | gloomy; their vivacity degenerated into a new and unpitying Pharaoh. Those of dullness; their merit slept, and their natural more elevated rank were seen coldly de- gaiety was no more: conscious that they livering up their sons, by destining them

were only detestable, they often gave cause to war, bringing them up to it from their by their ill-humour and revenge, to beinfancy, and marking out to them that it

come yet more so. was the only career they could follow to

This perpetual war had also a melan. procure hereafter honour and riches. And choly effect on the morals of mankind : it thus they completely fell into the snare

was not alone the character of the soldier, spread for petty ambition by an ambition which became gloomy, that of the orator and of a much greater extent, and which had the poet, those natural interpreters of the the art to close up every road which led to | public mind, took a shade almost as dark, preferment, to lead them to that of war. i they hung their lyres on the cypress tree, How many senators, cou prefects, and

or they sang only the exploits of the war. men in place, have been known, in order | rior. The age of Bonaparte was neither to maintain their situations, to have imposed that of chivalry or poesy: even the idle on themselves the cruel obligation of offer-singers who go about from city to city, could. ing, as a sacrifice to their master, the blood | find no subject of composition to revive the of all their sons! It is thus that, by the national gaiety; neither pensions nor ensystem in which the French were fettered, couragement given to the higher order of they finished by turning all their thoughts | public singers could afford them inspiration. to the side of war; all their pretensions But it is to be hoped that the days of

French gaiety and chivalry will return; serve. Their existence no longer depends that arts amidst peace will flourish, and on the arbitrary caprice of a man who took the presence of the country, as it may be away on the morrow the honours and forcalled, will bring back the national cha- tunes he had granted the day before; who racter to its former-tone. How many are made a sport of destroying the works of now returned to the bosom of their families his own hands; who, like another Saturn, and to their fellow citizens, to receive the devoured his own children; and whose tribute of their gratitude, and their admira- | judgment never inspired sufficient confi. tion of their valour! Some are yet employ- dence in any one to look upon him as a just, ed in garrisons, to be the guardians of that dispensator of either renown or glory. peace which the King has sworn to pre

FUGITIVE POETRY.

1

LARA; A POEM. BY LORD BYRON.

This poem, undoubtedly the work of to many recent publications of this harmo. our noble and justly admired bard, is much nious poet, we doubt not but our readers in the style of his Lordship's former tales. will find the following extracts extremely The hero, Lara, is described as a glooiny, | beautiful. The first is the description of ferocious, and, in some respects, guilty cha- Lara on his return to the mansion of his racter; who has been left too soon “ lord ancestors. of himself," has been absent from home " He turned within his solitary hall, revelling in pleasure, and has again return And his high shadow shot along the wall; ed to the Gothic hall of his forefathers: a There were the painted forms of other times, single page is his attendant, who proves to

'Twas all they left of virtue or of crimes, I be a female, who faithfully loves him. Otho, That hid their dust, their foibles, and their faults ;

Save vagne tradition; and the gloomy vaults: à neighbouring chief, gives a grand enter And half a column of the pompous page, Etainment, at which Lara is a guest, and That speeds the specious tale from age to age;

where he sees an unknown, who gazes in- Where history's pen its praise or blame supplies, i tently on him. They speak to each other, And lies like truth, and still most truly lies, s a quarrel ensues, and Sir Esselyn, the stran

He wandering mus'd, and as the moonbeam shone

Thro' the dim lattice o'er the floor of stone, Eger, agrees to combat with Lara on the

And the high fretted roof, and saints, that there & morrow; but Esselyn keeps not his ap- O’er Gothic windows knelt in pictured prayer,

pointment. Otho, in his stead, offers his Reflected in fantastic figures grew, i bosom to the enraged Lara: Otho is wound Like life, but not like mortal life, to view;

ed desperately; but on the healing of his His bristling locks of sable, brow of gloom, wounds his still wounded pride renders

And the wide waving of his shakea plume, him the foe of Lara. The extraordinary His aspect all that terror gives the grave.”

Glanc'd like a spectre's attributes, and gave absence of Otho's friend, Esselyn, makes that chief ask him at the hand of Lara,

The character of Lara is admirably who

drawn:forth to meet the host that Otho goes has raised against him. Kaled, the faithful “ In him inexplicably mix'd appear’d page, often turns the charger of Lara from Much to be loved and hated, songht and fear'd; the threatened danger; but he cannot pre

Opiniou varying o'er bis hidden tot, vent the fated blow. After Lara is mortally | His silence form’d a theme for others' prate

lu praise or railing ne'er his name forgot; wounded, Otho questions him, who can

They guessed-they gazed--they fain would know no longer answer; but Kaled seems more

his fate. silent and motionless than himself. To What had he been? What was he, thus unknown, wards the end of the poem, it is surmised

Who walked their world, bis lineage only known?

A bater of his kind!" that Esselyn has been drowned, and has not perished by the hand of Lara, with

The description of the page is beauti. whose death, and that of Kaled, the poem

ful: concludes.

“ His only follower from those climes afar, Though we do not think this work equal Where the soul glows beneath a brighter star;

« PreviousContinue »