May 21-Many thanks to an ingenious Correpondent for his voluminous translation of Tasso's "Gierusalemme Liberata." I can positively afford room for no more than the following description of Armida from Canto IV. XXVIII. Few suns had shone and set, or ere she came wore, No mien so noble, and no form so fair, XXX. The wanton breeze, that mid her soft locks play'd,`` With roses, and the blended colours strove As rivals for the mastery-her mouth Was roseate, with breath sweet as the sweet South. XXXI. Her bosom next disclos'd its spotless snows, Young, soft, and tender, and o'er part is spread- To stay the eyes, the amorous thought hath sped XXXII. E'en as the Sun's warm ray will penetrate The scenes which fancy pictures far and wide, May 26.-Received the following, amongst other more valuable contributions, from our old friend W. Woman and Hope! I love the two, May 28.-A friend informs me that the expression of Scaliger, relative to one of the Odes of Horace, was not the King of Persia, as I have erroneously put forth, but "rex Tarraconensis." Another friend informs me, on Lady Morgan's authority, that the King in question was "the King of Naples." "Strange that such difference should be, "Twixt Tweedle-dum and Tweedle-dee!" My dear Critics, what does it signify to you or me, whether Scaliger's Hyperbole lighted upon Rex Persicus, or Rex Tarraconensis, the King of Naples, or the King of Clubs ? May 29.-Bless me! Here is a Corpus Poetarum rushing in. I shall never get through the serried phalanx. I must make a desperate sally! First have at you Mr. "Remove!"-there; you are an inoffensive and well-disposed gentleman, so I will not hurt you. Aha! "Nestor!" I will not hurt you either, old friend!—you are too old. Holloa, good "Vindex," with your " Address to Lord Liverpool," you come with a threatening aspect indeed; there! I have brought him down; I have flung our tenth Resolution at him. What " Senex " here? Oh! you are in a passion because I would not insert your " Letter to the Boys." I'll just sharpen a "Private Correspondence," and fling it at you. He runs. "Judex" too-you are enraged because I have not enough serious stuff. You make home-thrusts indeed! Where is No. IV.? It must be my shield! Murder! Here is the Editor of the "Apis Matina," with an Epic on the Fall of Palmyra in his hand. I must send my Aristotle" at him.-There! I have overturned him in a twinkling. Ha! ha! there is Mr. Cin the way, with the sword of Hypercriticism. I think I won't run!-the weapon is very blunt. There is somebody in the rear of the battle, looking most kindly severe what has he to say? He says, "We are all losing our time; we shall repent this at Cambridge." That was a hard hit; but take care, Sir! It shall go hard with you if any of the Club are Wranglers!-Bless me! here is "Bos," roaring that "there is no merit in 'The Etonian!' It won't live fifty years!" I'll shoot him in the head!-No! that's invulnerable! Stay a minute, Sir;-I must load with the new Number! THE ETONIAN. N°. IX. The King of Clubs. Saturni, 230 die Junii, 1821, THE Club met according to custom; but there was little or no business to be transacted, and there was a Melancholy apparent in every face, which checked every attempt at Humour. It will not be difficult to account for this depression of spirits, when it is remembered that the existence of the King of Clubs is drawing to its close. Another brief Month, and the crowned head and sceptred hand will return from their exalted station to their original obscurity; the King of Clubs will die, and the Gambling-House will be the receptacle of his body." Sic transit gloria mundi." The Members chewed the cud, and drank the Punch in silence; they had almost emptied the bowl, when Mr. GOLIGHTLY, dipping his ladle somewhat deeper than usual, brought up a small piece of paper from the bottom. It was opened, and read by the President; and, as I have nothing else to insert, I am ordered to present to the Public the AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF THE PUNCH-BOWL. 66 Autobiography is very much in fashion at the present day. Mr. Cobbett writes Autobiography, and Mr. Hunt writes Autobiography; why then should Criticism turn up her nose at the Autobiography of a Punch-bowl? "I was made on the 20th of October 1820; and was pronounced, by an admiring Public, a fine Bowl. Everybody found something to commend in me; some liked my sweetness, and some my acidity some praised me because I was strong enough, and some because I was not too strong. There were few tasters who did not look forward with pleasure to a second draught. "In a short time the usual vicissitudes of popular favour afflicted me. People began to find in me a hundred faults, of which they had not so much as dreamed before. I was too sour, and too noisy, and too heavy; I inspired nothing but puns and quibbles; every fume I sent forth savoured of Satire; every cup I filled tasted of Absurdity. It was said, that I made young heads giddy, and disrespectful to their su periors; that I was a sad abettor of idleness and impertinence, that I was an utter enemy to all discipline and regularity; in short, that I ought never to be tolerated in the place of which I had possessed myself. "Even my Patrons, the Members of the Club, began to cool in their good opinion of me. 'The King of Clubs,' like many other Kings, began to think of sacrificing his Favourite, in order to conciliate popular favour; my spirits subsided, and I began to be of opinion that the Members were all cracked, and that I should be cracked too, in a short time. I believe I owed my safety to a fortuitous circumstance, to which I never look back without exultation,-Mr. Oakley, my most formidable enemy, dared to introduce a Tea-pot into the Club-Room. The Members retreated from his flag with disgust; and, though I never could get rid of the vile little intruder, yet a proposal for exiling me, and substituting chocolate, was negatived by a large majority. "I kept my place, therefore, and although I continued to meet with my quantum suff. of disapprobation from many with whose stomachs I disagreed, I did not cease from being the nectar of the Club, and the inspiration of the writings of The Etonian.' The fame of me was diffused far and wide, and the brightest ornaments of Mater Etona became anxious to have a hand in my composition. They were perpetually sending presents of ingredients, and my limited circumference was frequently unable to contain their liberality. One poured in a stream of Good Sense; another gave me a sparkling fountain of Wit; a third dropped from his hand the sugar of Urbanity; a fourth scattered on my surface the flowers of Parnassus. The disposition to jollity, which I had upon my first appearance betrayed, was gradually refined. I became as quiet and civil a Punch-bowl as ever was concocted. Even Ladies ventured to sip from me, and Exquisites pronounced me tolerable. The playful Fancy, which dictated the March to Moscow,' was derived from my influence-the pen which wrote Godiva,' was dipped in my liquid. When I am accused of misdemeanors, and riot, and disaffection, I answer by holding up a list of my friends!-You shall know me by the company I keep! "Yet why do I complain of hostility or censure? I never had reason to do so my greatest friends, it is true, mixed up something of condemnation with their praises; but I need not fret on this account, since my bitterest enemies united something of approbation with their sarcasms. It has been my peculiar lot to please and to displease everybody. One considered me lukewarm, but there was sometimes a mellowness in my taste which pleased him; another thought me insipid, but there was sometimes a little acid in my beverage which redeemed me from total neglect; a third complained that too much of me sent him to sleep, but still he came to me, because he found a little of me was enlivening; a fourth swore I was death to the the senses, but yet he had an affection for me, because I gave life the feelings. "The incidents of my short life have been few, but among those whom they immediately concerned, they of course excited great interest. Wherever The Etonian' made his appearance The King of Clubs' led the way with the Punch-bowl in his arms; I was tasted by the Literati, who read every thing, and the illiterate, who read nothing at all. Many a glutton in literature smacked his lips at my approach, and many a boarding-school belle relinquished the unbroached Tears of Sensibility' for the more inviting flavour of the streams of his Majesty's Punchbowl. "These glorious days, however, are fleeting swiftly away! Once more will my orb be replenished, and the potion I will then afford Ishall be sweeter than I ever afforded before! Once more, and then my wonted spirits will no longer effervesce within me; my wonted friends will no longer laugh around me; I shall be as sorrowful as the hearts of my patrons, as empty as the heads of my detractors! Almighty Bacchus! Shall his Majesty's Punch-bowl sink into a vile piece of crockery? ere plebeian lips shall defile the rim which the touch of a King hath hallowed -ere the vessel in which wit has bathed, shall become the receptacle of earthly liquor, Be ready, Gods, with all your thunderbolts, Dash it to pieces!' before a less partial hand shall do it for me, and tell you what candour will say bye-and-bye of the Punchbowl. "It had many failings, but it had some virtues to counterbalance them; it promoted a fashion of levity, an indifference to rebuke, and an appearance of improprieties which never in reality existed. Many persons have assumed the dress of sanctity where sanctity was not, but few, like 'The King of Clubs,' have taken to intoxication in print, in order to appear to the world worse than they actually were. But, on the other hand, the Punchbowl gave life and vivacity to 'The Etonian,' which had never been found in the shop of Mr. Twining. It had the grace of novelty, which is no small recommendation where youth is to be the judge; and it afforded an opportunity of talking a great deal of nonsense, which could not have been talked half so well round a copper kettle or a silver urn. It was always warming,-often exhilarating,-seldom, I hope, intoxicating,-never, I am sure, unwholesome."" Before this dreadful consummation shall take place, let me, as far as possible, provide for the probable contingency. I know that when my protector, 'The King of Clubs,' shall have vacated his throne, a crowd of petty calumniators will arise, to hide my good qualities and exaggerate my failings. Let me then draw my own character The composition, from whatever pen it proceeded, was received with great approbation; and as the Punch and its Biography were coming to an end together, the Club prepared to adjourn. Previous to their separation, however, Mr. COURTENAY rose and spoke to the following purpose: MR. COURTENAY TO HIS CONTRIBUTORS. “Gentlemen,—As this is almost the last time I shall have the honour of addressing you in my capacity of President of your sittings, I wish to make one request of you and all our other Contributors. The curiosity of the Public is much excited respecting the names of our writers, and I, for one, am very unwilling to disappoint a Public which has been so very kind to us-I therefore hope that all those who have favoured us with their support, will let me know as soon as possible whether to all or to any of their articles they will allow me to attach their names in our Tenth and last Number."—( Hear! hear! hear!) (Signed) RICHARD HODGSON, Secretary. |