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vading probably every part of our system? The accurate observations which are now made in each civilized country, will every day discover more to us, and by comparing future obfervations with the accounts given in preceding ages, succeed. ing generations may be enabled to determine the return of a comet with the same ease that we ascertain the motions of any of the planets,

The present State of the Manners, Arts, and Politics, of France

and Italy; in a Series of poetical Epistles, from Paris, Rome, and Naples, in 1792 and 1793: addressed to Robert Jepha fon, E/q. By J. Courtney, M.P. 8vo. 25. 6d, Jewed. Ro.

binson. 1794. M R. Courtney, whofe exquisite raillery and brilliant wit,

I have so frequently enlivened a dull debate in the house of commons, in the publication before us, has indulged at once his humour and his fancy; and, in a strain of light and pleasant poetry, has presented the public with a series of lively remarks on the most prominent topics of the day, in most of the countries of Europe. The French revolution occupies a conspicuous place in this publication, and we observe with pleasure, that while Mr. Courtney is the warm advocate for liberty, he evinces a marked disapprobation of whatever is censurable in the conduct of that nation. Some circumstances connected with that subject, do not, indeed, accord most happily with the lively strain of these letters : the history of malsacres does not run smoothly in dactyls.-In some respects, however, the eccentricity of the French has furnished excellent topics for the sportive muse of Mr. Courtney; nor is his talent for irony less happily employed in ridiculing what some have termed the blessings of the old government of France.

• Mon dieu! what a riot! the people now reign,
They're as faucy as Britons, and fling off their chain;
All bold and erect, every ruffian we meet,
And the coachmen, in tremors, scarce trot thro' the street :
With a flourishing whip once they gallop'd along,
And crush'd out the souls of the insolent throng;
To fracture a leg, was but reckon'd a joke,
While the chariot was whirling thro' foam and thro’ smoke:
How delightfully shrill the vile porters would bawl,
As their guts were squeez'd out, though they crept to the wall!
And the spruce limp’ring beaux, with a grace, and an air,
Said, the streets are too narrow,—why should they be there?
But now the canaille plead the freedom of man,
And “ the more is the pity,” cries Mallet du Pan *.

:. All

"* Ask the porter is the street, who was formerly squeezed between the • All order is lost, no distinctions remain, Crosses, ribbands, and titles, no rev'rence obtain, Yet these innovators, whose crimes I detest, Say mortals are equal,—the best are the best; In some things they're equal, as ev'ry one knows, . Each man has two arms, two legs, and one nose; And of the fame blood is the poissar de and madam, If we foolishly wander to Eve, and to Adam : But who can e'er doubt, where nobility shines, That the blood in its courle both ferments and refines; Impregnate with virtue, it splendidly fows, Tho’ from the same source it congenially rose; So parsnips and carrots a spirit produce, But the flavour and strength are confin'd to the juice : Tho' meteors from unghills with lustre arise, Is the filth left behind like the fame in the skies? As the blossoms and fruit,--the sweet 'nobles we see, Like the clod, the mere vulgar fhould nourish the tree; Conite, prince, and marquis, are somewhat divine, And the multitude fure little better than swine : Then on this great topic let's have no niore babble, For the nobles are nobles, the people are rabble ti'


Thus the flush of dear sentiment brighten'd the face, And beauty from famion deriv'd a new grace ; Sensation was taught mental feelings to prize, And the with of the heart gave a tongue to the eyes; Sweetly throbb’d with emotion the sensitive breast, As myrtle deliciously breathes when it's press'd. Social taste gave the ton, íped the blessings of life, And every nian courted another man's wife : Thus friends were attach'd by the charnis of each woman, As the primitive Christians had all things in common. : Love spread her gauze veil, and became more refin'd, And the joys of the sense were impress'd on the mind : So the painter's bright tints we with rapture admire, When enameld they shine, and are fix'd by the fire.'

coach-whee! and the wall, if he is sorry, that the coach and he who rode in it are beth vanited' Confiderations on the French Revolution, translated from the French of M Mallet du Pani p. 73.

if Mr. Borivell, in his late admirable Life of Dr. Johnson, after Aating the clainis which an English merchant ray urge, as “ a new species of gentleman," to the relp.ct which has been long paid to hereditary honours, concludes in the trie spirit of the laird of Ausbinleca" Such are the specious, but false, argumients for a proposition which always will find numerous advocates, in a nation whrre men are every day itarting from obscurity to wealth. To refute them is neeilil's. The general sense of mankind cries out with irreftible force, ** (in genipomme dji 10jours gentillemme." Lise of Johnson, vol. I, p. 451.'

. Here the pretty bourgeoise, smiles and in charms,
Oft ogled the courtier, and few to his arms;
And a lettre de cachet secur'd them their bliss,
For the spouse was bafild, and saw nothing amiss.
What a delicate trait of the lover and wife,
To save the poor cuckold from conjugal strife!
But alas ! all these pretty manœuvres are o’er: .'
True politeness is filed, -the Bastile is no more!
When lettres de cachet were sign’d, and were ready,
They kept millions submissive, and government steady ;
And ma’m Pompadour by so leniene a law,
The culprit' reformd, by bread, water, and straw.
At ber concert, Tartini play'd hy-der-dum-diddle,
And Diderot (neer'd at the twang of his fiddle:
But it cost him full dear; in a cell he lay low,
Till peccavi he cry'd to this knight of the bow.
Thus the chains of refpect were ne'er riven asunder,,
And the court of Versailles stir'd up envy and wonder.
No more from each province will fair ladies trudge,
To folicit their fuit, and enrapture the judge ;
So the rigour of justice was soften’d by love,
And the harpy of strife took the form of a dove:
The spirit of chivalry reign'd o'er the laws,
When the glances of beauty decided the cause.

• But Gallia is ruin'd, and chivalry dead,
And the glory of Europe for ever is fled;
Proud freedom in fervitude lately we saw,
But now, sex and rank are enllav'd by the law ;
The grace of life's gone, which came hither unbought,
Of heroes the nurse, and of ev'ry bright thought.
How chaste the men's honour! a stain was a icar,
But no lady was fcrutch'd in this chivalry war:
Vice loft all its groitness, became pure and fine,
And to virtue was chang'd by a polith divine ;
As water polluted, and foul to the fight,
By filt'ring, again runs pellucid and bright.
So Callavi's roots a dire venom contain,
Squeeze out the gross juice, and you squeeze out the bane.
For this logic persuasive no merit I claim,
Edmund proves vice and virtue sublimely the fame:
His eulogium, our own native Trinity tells,

Tho' Oxford refuses her cap-wit/out beils !" From Italy, the topics of our author are more varied, and are frequently replete with humour and entertainment.

• At Pavia a angular custom prevails,
To protect the poor debior from baillifs and jails;
He discharges his score without saying a jot,
By stating linself on a flone, Jiins salutie;

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There folemnly swearing, as honest men ought,
That he's poorer than Job, when reduc'd to a groat;
Yet this naked truth with such stigma disgraces,
That the rogue, as on nettles, sits, making wry faces.
How strange in such folks to be troubled with shame!
If we paid our debts by performing the same,
Our commons and peers of their seat would be proud,
Take this oath of conformity laughing aloud;
Our faro-bank ladies would relish the jest,
And their honour restore by this ludicrous test;
The free-stone from friction would soon want repairs,
As penitent knees wear St. Peter's hard stairs.'

The following account of the Italian gardens, will, pera haps, surprize those who have not travelled in the country, and who have been accustomed to consider it as the emporium of taste. It will remind some readers of a paper, either in the Spectator or the Guardian, on the same subject.

The taste here for gardens description defies,
For the mould black and dusty is blown in your eyes ;
O'er the grass parch'd and blasted no rivulets spread,
But are squirted from trees cast in iron or lead:
The warblers of nature fit off on the wing,
Left their love should be prund, to inftruct them to fing;
For songiters and flutes are prepar'd the same way,
They're fcbop'd, and they're trim'd, till they pour the sweet lay.
In tubs cram'd with dirt drooping flow'rets appear,
And a pound, or a paddock, encircles the deer.
For rural delights, thro' the alleys we run,
And are blinded by fand, or bescorch'd by the sun :
No arbour, no shade, and no verdure is seen,
For the trees and the turf are all colours but green.
Here the faints of the rubrick are planted in rows,
St. Dunstan, in box, takes Old Nick by the nose;
Susannah, in holly, resists the attack,
And the elders, in willow, are laid on their back;
Father Adam, in fir, lives in evergreen pride,
And, grafted in myrtle, Eve peeps from his fide.
The venomous yew Sarah's jealousy shows, :
And the sensitive plant Hagar's feelings disclose ;
There Jud th still shakes Holophernes's head,
While the cypress displays how the heroine fped ;
Father Noah is shap'd from his dearly-loved vine;
Lot's daughters in ivy their parent entwine; .
The hawthorn aspires Jael's deed to explain,

And supplies nail and hammer for Sisera's brain.'
In his account of Naples, Mr. Courtney introduces a plexe
fant anecdote, which might posibly apply to some other coun-

• Here

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• Here tribes of wise lawyers in robes most decorous,
Snap, wrangle, and scold, and bawl in full chorus;
The client is beggar'd, the krave his cath gathers,
So the fox eats the goose, leaves the farmer the feathers.
'Tis faid how a pope, mov'd by pity divine,
In a famine at Rome, sent to Naples for swine ;
Thirty thousand at least; marquis Carpio in hope
To save such a herd, yet not anger the pope,
Devoutly reply'd-Blessed father, I swear,

In lawyers I'll pay you, the pigs I can't spare.' The reveries of our modern philosophers are often happily introduced; and, among the rest, Mr. Godwin's fingular project of immortality comes in for a fly stroke :

• But we're all borne to die, both the weak and the strong, Unle's our existence fage Godwin prolong; He'll teach us, by realon death's portals to batter, “ When the mind grows omnipotent over dead matter ;" Then the soul will eternise her mansion, as easy As eggs are preserv'd by itill keeping them greasy ; She'll charcoal our bodies, they'll feel no decay,

But scorn the dry rot, thro' eternity's day.' We can cheerfully recommend this publication as an excellent remedy against the spleen, and as a lively companion in a poft chaise, or to such of our people of fashion as are retiring at this season, from 'fin and sea-coal,' to 'doleful shades,'or the gloomy mansions of their feudal ancestors.

The History of England, from the earliest Dawn of Record, in

the Peace of 1783. By Charles Coote, LL.D. (Continued

from Vol. X. p. 376.) IN resuming the consideration of this work at the second vo

lume, which conimences with the Conquest, and extends to the death of John, A.D. 1216, we find more matter, of applause, and less of blame, in proportion as the author advances to more modern periods than those which entangle and perplex the path of even the most painful antiquary. We Thall not enter into the dispute, whether the feudal system was uted in England prior to the time of the Conqueror; he at any rate certainly lent greater extent to its operations, and more vigour to its connexions: and the following extract well depicts the circumstances of this great event:

• These abortive attempts to subvert the power of William, served only to fix it on a stronger basis. The easy discomfiture of the snalecontents seemed to preclude all their hopes of future success :


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