MISCELLANIES, IN VERSE AND PROSE.

"Passed herre tyme amydst ye throng,As happie as ye deye was long."[40]

"Passed herre tyme amydst ye throng,

As happie as ye deye was long."[40]

Nevertheless, Whittington, after he had been in her society for a short time, began to doubt (as well he might) her supernatural powers. He argued, from a knowledge of the sex's little weaknesses, that if she had had the ability to have assumed any form she had chosen, she doubtlessly would have adopted a more agreeable one than that which she actually appeared under; but then, on the other hand, he contended with himself, that by as much as her real claims upon notice and attention were weak and groundless, by so much must her magic be potent, for that unless the Devil himself had taken possession of the rabble (at her instigation) they never could have seen anything to admire or respect about her.

Still, however, with that good taste so perceptible in all his conduct, Matthew, in order to keep up the dignity of his Enchantress, and to induce spectators to respect her, never ventured to approach her without the most marked actionsof humility, never would be covered in her presence, nor treat her with less deference than though she had been a queen.[41]

The more Matthew began to doubt her powers, and to suspect he had been in some sort duped, the more he raved about the excellent qualities of his great Lady—Penthesilea, with all her "magna virtutis documenta" at her back, was not fit to be named in the same day with her. Berenice, Camilla, Zenobia, Valasca the Bohemian, or Amelasunta, queen of the Ostrogoths, had neither fortitude, nor temperance, nor chastity, nor any good qualities to put in competition with hers. And as for the modern ladies, your Laura Bossis or Victoria Accarambonis, or even the renowned Donna Maria Pacheco, Bianca Hedwig, Lady of Duke Henry the beardy of Ligniz, they would have been considered the small fry, the mere white-bait of the sex, compared with Whittington's Enchantress.[42]Matthew daily grew more and more uneasy about his charge: instead of aspiring to dignity, or performing any of those astonishing feats which he expected, she appeared addicted to vulgar habits and coarsepleasures, attracted no respectable admirers, and passed her time in obscure corners, choosing either woods or barns for her lurking-places, to which she was followed only by the very lowest of the rabble.

It was a matter of delicacy with Matthew not to hint that he should be glad to see some proof of her powers, for by the murmurs which he heard, in bettermost life, he apprehended that the Legislature would interfere, in order to put a stop to her imposition.

Matthew now stood in a very awkward situation: he had brought an unwelcome object into England, contrary to the advice of all those about her, and in direct opposition to the feelings of all the respectable part of the community, and had, in fact, drawn himself into the disagreeable certainty of being wrong under all circumstances.

If she really were what he boasted her to be, he was amenable to the laws, which, as Blackstone says, both before and since the Conquest, have been equally severe, ranking the crime of sorcery and of those who consult sorcerers in the same class with heresy, and condemning both to the flames. If she were not, he had foisted a deception upon the mob, which they never would forgive.

This he knew, and therefore felt his full share of agreeable sensations arising from the alternative, which presented itself of being burned alive in one case, and universally laughed at in the other; not but that it must be allowed that Mr. W. possessed amongst other characteristics of fortitude, a surprisingly stoical callousness to ridicule.

His apprehensions about the interference of the Legislature were by no means groundless. It was evidently necessary to open the eyes of the country to the flagrant imposition which was carrying on, and to which poor Whittington most innocently and unintentionally had made himself a party. Thebraveman, however, began to feel a few fears, which had hitherto been strangers to hisgreatheart: testimonies of his enchantress's charlatanerie were forthcoming from everyquarter, of which she was perfectly aware, but advised Matthew to put a good face upon the matter and brave it out, assuring him, that if it came to evidence, she could produce a great many more witnesses of her innocence than her opponents could bring forward of her guilt.

This mode of exculpation has been recorded by a very popular writer of much later days.[43]He relates an anecdote where a murder was clearly proved against a prisoner by the concurrent testimony of seven witnesses: when the culprit was called on for his defence, he complained of want of evidence against him; for, said he, "My Lord and Gentlemen of the Jury, you lay great stress upon the production of seven persons who swear that they saw me commit the crime. If that be all, I will produce you seven times as many who will swear that they did not see me do it." Much on a par with this was the favourable evidence on which this eminent piece of injured innocence relied for exculpation.[44]

The most singular part of the story is, that with all Matthew's well-known intelligence, good sense, prudence, amiability, and virtue, his zeal got the better of his consistency. He and his friends who most warmly espoused the cause of the great impostor, were those who from time immemorial had upheld the democracy of the constitution, had rung the changes upon all the virtuous attributes of low life, "Honest Poverty," and "The Sovereignty of the People;" but, strange to say, in their excessive zeal for their new idol, these equalizing politicians decided unanimously, that all the witnesses who were to prove her misdeeds, were perjured villains and infamous rogues, even before they had said a syllable on the subject, because, forsooth, they were poor and shabbily clothed, as if a line coat were essential to truth and justice, or that a poor man could not speak truth.

Now really to me their poverty (if one may judge by the accounts which have been handed down of them,) appears one of the strongest proofs of their honesty; for, had they been tampered with as Whittington insinuated, it is not improbable that some part of their earnings would have been expended in the purchase of such habits as might at least have protected them from insult in the streets.

There was one objection to their evidence, which, inasmuch as it is patriotic, is honourable—they were foreigners, and therefore not to be believed.——Now, touching the justice of this sweeping decision much may be said; and it is by no means unpleasing to see that even in these days there is still a national prejudice against foreign habits and manners; the looseness of conduct, and general want of delicacy of the continental nations, are at variance with the pure and better regulated habits of our countrymen and countrywomen; and in Whittington's days it clearly appears that morality had so firmly established itself in England, that a foreigner was not to be credited on oath.

In the instance of this nondescript lady, this feeling certainly had not so much weight as it might have had in many others, nor was the expression of it over-gallant, considering that she herself was a foreigner and educated, if St. Cas and other authors are to be believed, in one of the most licentious schools of continental incontinence.

One strong argument against the credibility of these persons was the general venality of all the natives of the country they came from, which was so flagrant that a man might be bought for five shillings to swear any thing. The witnesses which the Cat lady intended, it appears, to produce in her defence, were all from the same nation—this objection, unfortunately for her, tells both ways.

Be that as it may, it appears pretty evident, that at the period to which I am now alluding Whittington, whether voluntarily or not I cannot pretend to determine, was separated from the object of all his hopes and fears;—indeed, howthe separation between them was brought about has puzzled all who have hitherto considered the subject: some writers suppose that she never had any superior or supernatural powers, but that she was altogether an impostor, others positively maintain (particularly one) that she was a person of prudence, wisdom, delicacy, and virtue.[45]

Those who deny her existence atany timein human shape are by no means few; amongst their number is, as we have seen, my excellent friend Doctor Snodgrass: these aver with every appearance of truth, that she was neither more nor less than a domestic cat, but that she was stolen from Whittington by the monks of the monastery "Sancti Stephani apud Westmonasteriensis," for the purpose of catching certain great rats which infested their chapel and the adjoining house, and that the poor Alderman cut a very ridiculous figure when deprived of his favourite raree-show.

Some, on the other hand, incline to believe that Mr. Whittington got sick of his bargain, and assert that what with caterwauling and bringing crowds of followers into the gutters of his residence, she turned out to be so troublesome an inmate, that he got rid of her as soon as he could, and prevailed on an old maid in the neighbourhood to take care of her.[46]

For me, however, till now, has been reserved the important, the enviable task of unravelling all the mysteries in which this subject has been hitherto involved. To me it is granted to reconcile all contending opinions, and to simplify all the difficulties which have baffled my predecessors in the attainment of truth. I am enabled, as I firmly believe, beyond the power of contradiction, to declare to the worldwhothe Cat was, andwhatshe was. I am competent to display in its true colours the character of Mr. Matthew Whittington, toillustrate and make clear his views, his motives, and the other eight points which I have before noticed to be in dispute, even to the cause and nature of his death, an event hitherto equally obscure with his birth.

Gifted as I am with this power to illuminate the literary world, is it not natural that I should feel anxious to make use of it for their advantage? One consideration alone checks me in my desire to afford the purchasers of this Tentamen all the information I possess; that consideration I trust I shall not be censured for attending to. I confess it is a prudential one, inasmuch as were I in this small specimen to give my readers all the details, narratives, and general information I possess, I am apprehensive that the work itself would not meet with that encouragement which is at present promised, and which alone can repay me for the labour of years, and that ceaseless anxiety which an undertaking so diffusely elaborate naturally has entailed upon its author.

MISCELLANIES.

We have the highest respect for the arts and for artists; we are perfectly aware of the numerous qualifications requisite for a painter—we know and feel the difficulty, and duly consider the quantity of talent necessary to the painting even of a bad picture. The years of probationary labour expended before even the palette comes into use, the days and nights of watching, and toil after it is assumed, and the variety of chemical, mechanical, and scientific knowledge which must be brought to bear upon a subject before the idea of the painter can be transferred to the canvas.

These feelings, and this respect for the art, and professors of painting, make us slow to censure; and, although we have long had our eyes upon some of the public exhibitions of the season, we have refrained from commenting upon them till the common curiosity of the town had repaid, in some measure, the care and anxiety of those in whose studies they had their origin.

Mr. Haydon, a sonnet-writing Cockney, ranking high in the administration of the smoky kingdom of Cockaigne,distinguished himself last year, by exhibiting a picture of the "Entry into Jerusalem," which, like Tom Thumb's Cow, was "larger than the largest size." Elated with the success of this immense performance, (of which one group only was at all finished,) Mr. Haydon, this year, put forth a work representing "the Agony in the Garden:" the divine subject saved the silly artist, and we were upon that account silent; else, for Mr. Haydon, who wears his shirt collars open, and curls his hair in long ringlets, because Rafaele did so, and who, if it did not provokingly turn down over his mouth, would turn up his nose at the Royal Academy, indeed we should have felt very little tenderness.

But with respect to Mr. Ward's allegorical picture of Waterloo, we had different feelings—the picture had good principle about it, and the weeks, months, and years which have been bestowed upon it demanded some recompense; the idlers of Piccadilly did not feel the occasional disbursement of a shilling. In pleasant society Ward's exhibition-room was as good a place wherein to "laugh a sultry hour away" as any other; and anxious that Mr. Ward, after having expended so much time, canvas, and colour, should get something by it, we have patiently let him draw his reward from the pockets of those good easy folks, who read newspaper puffs and believe them; and who go and vow all over London that a picture is wonderful and sublime, merely because the painter, at the trifling charge of seven shillings and sixpence, has thought proper to tell them that it is so, in the public journals.

But when we find that this picture was painted for the directors of the British Institution, founded "for the express purpose of encouraging the Fine Arts," and is about to be engraved and disseminated throughout the country, as a specimen of the works taken under the especial care of that Institution; it really becomes a duty to save the nation from a charge of bad taste so heavy as must arise out of the patronage of such a ludicrous daub.

This may be a picture painted for the Institution at their desire, and the execution of it is no proof of their want of judgment, because they desired to have such a picture, and they have got it, and we have thereby no proof of their approbation; but since they have got themselves into a scrape, they certainly should not allow a print to be made from it, even if they suffer the painting to remain in existence.

If it be possible to imagine one thing upon earth more irresistibly ridiculous than another, it is the composition of this enormous thing—the size of it is thirty-five feet by twenty-one—in the centre appears the Duke of Wellington in a pearl car—under his feet are legs and arms, and heads in glorious confusion—before him rides a pretty little naked boy upon a lion—over him in the clouds are a group of young gentlemen with wings, representing the Duke's victories, who look like Mrs. Wilkinson's Preparatory Academy turned out for a bathe; and amongst these pretty little dears are Peace and Plenty, and a great angel overshadowing the whole party.

But this very absurd jumble (at which, through a little hole, Blucher and Platoff are looking with some surprise,) is by no means the most ludicrous part of the affair—in the clouds are two persons, called by Mr. Ward, Ignorance and Error, (one of whom has a dirty handkerchief tied over his eyes,) beneath whom are dogs' heads with wings—a tipsy-looking cock-eyed owl trampling a heavy stone Osiris into the earth—a little calf without a head—a red night-cap—a watchman's rattle—an old crow—Paine's "Rights of Man"—Voltaire's works, a sick harpy—a devil sucking his fingers—a hobby-horse's head, and a heap of chains—here is the allegory—all of which we shall attempt to explain in Mr. Ward's own words, for he is an author as well as a painter, and, absurd as are the productions of his pencil, the nonsense of his pen is, of the two, the most exquisite.

In the foreground of the picture is a skeleton evidentlyafflicted with the head-ache, before whom runs a little wide-mouthed waddling frog with a long tail, and beyond these a group which defies description.

The horses (particularly the near wheeler) have a very droll and cunning expression about the eye; but the four persons leading them, whether considered as to their drawing or colouring, are beneath all criticism: a pupil of six months' standing ought to have been flogged for doing anything so bad.

In short, the whole thing in its kind closely resembles the overgrown transparencies painted to be stuck up at Vauxhall, or the Cumberland Gardens, or for public rejoicings, and ought, as soon as it has answered its purpose like those, be obliterated, and the stuff worked up for something else.

In a book published upon this performance, Mr. Ward modestly says, that he is not ambitious to be considered an author, and adds, that there exists some insuperable objection to his ever being one; but still, he professes to attempt in his own simple style an explanation of his own ideas. He feels quite confident of public favour and indulgence, and then gives us his view of the thing:—as a specimen of this said style, we shall quote his notions about envy—its beauty, we confess, is evident—its simplicity we are afraid is somewhat questionable.

"Where shall we find a safe retreat for envied greatness, from the miry breath or slander's feverish tongue; dark in the bosom of the ocean's fathomless abyss, on the cloud-cleaving Atlas, or at the extremity of east or west. High on the gilded dome, or palace pinnacle, should merit's fairest hard-earned honours shine, once seated there, the sickly eye of speckled Jealousy, or Envy's snaky tribe, with iron nerve, and cold in blood, well scan the mark, and the envenomed javelin cast, with secret but unerring aim, and what is to screen him from the foul attack? The shield of Worth intrinsic, bound about with truth, and conscious innocence, and where that lives, all other covering only tends to hide its blushing beauties from the rising sun, and dim the face of day."So the firm oak's deep roots, eccentric, winding through theheaving earth, fast bound and chasmed deep, with many a widening gap, by blazing Sol's mid ray, at summer's sultry noon, opposes strength to strength; or round the impervious rocks, in weighty balance to its broad branch, and highly-lifted head, up to the mountain's summit, shrinks not from the prospect of the blackening storm, and while it sends its sweeping arms around over the circling numerous acres, shadowing under its expanded greatness, fears not the threatening blast, nor for protection looks to man. Too great to need a screen; it were children's play to throw a mantle over its full broad majesty, to try to save its foliage luxuriant from the rude element. The attempt would be as weedy muslin's cobweb insipidity; its flimsy partial covering would only hide its full matured richness; and the first breeze of whirlwind's opening rising tempest, tear from the disdainful surface to streaming raggedness the feeble effort, and open to the eye the golden fruit, freshening by the tempest, and glittering in the storm."

"So the firm oak's deep roots, eccentric, winding through theheaving earth, fast bound and chasmed deep, with many a widening gap, by blazing Sol's mid ray, at summer's sultry noon, opposes strength to strength; or round the impervious rocks, in weighty balance to its broad branch, and highly-lifted head, up to the mountain's summit, shrinks not from the prospect of the blackening storm, and while it sends its sweeping arms around over the circling numerous acres, shadowing under its expanded greatness, fears not the threatening blast, nor for protection looks to man. Too great to need a screen; it were children's play to throw a mantle over its full broad majesty, to try to save its foliage luxuriant from the rude element. The attempt would be as weedy muslin's cobweb insipidity; its flimsy partial covering would only hide its full matured richness; and the first breeze of whirlwind's opening rising tempest, tear from the disdainful surface to streaming raggedness the feeble effort, and open to the eye the golden fruit, freshening by the tempest, and glittering in the storm."

We know very little of human nature, if Mr. Ward, in spite of his disclaiming any wish to be considered as an author, does not think all this very fine. By way of simply explaining his allegory, it is particularly useful;—of Mr. Ward's view of the necessity of such explanation we may assure ourselves by his very apposite allusion to Milton, Walter Scott, Homer, and Burn (as he calls him). This paragraph we must quote:—

"It is contended by some, that a picture should be made up only of such materials as are capable of telling its own story; such confinement would shut out the human mind from a depth of pursuit in every branch of art. Poetry requires prose fully to explain its meaning, and to create an interest; for who would be without the notes in Walter Scott's 'Lay of the Last Minstrel,' or a glossary to the poems of Burn, the argument to Milton or Homer? If then it be necessary to make use of language to explain poetry, should not the same medium be used to explain personification? It has been thought necessary on the stage to send a person between the acts as a comment on the past, and a preface to the future, and can we, I ask, understand what is going on even in nature, by dumb show? If we see a crowd of people assembled in the streets, do we expect that the action and expression should inform us the cause of their congregating in an unusual manner? Experience proves more than volumes of argument. We ask 'what does all this mean?'"

To which we most candidly reply, we really do not know.

Mr. Ward then proceeds in the following manner:—

"Wellington has his hand upon the tri-coloured cross, on the shield of Britannia, expressive of the Christian'semblem, and the three colours of which it is composed are the colours answerable to the three principles in Trinity!!!Red is the first fiery principle in the Godhead;Blue the second in the Saviour, or Mediator;White the third in the Dove of Peace."

Red is the first fiery principle in the Godhead;Blue the second in the Saviour, or Mediator;White the third in the Dove of Peace."

Red is the first fiery principle in the Godhead;

Blue the second in the Saviour, or Mediator;

White the third in the Dove of Peace."

This ingenious explanation of the mysteries of the Union Jack must be highly satisfactory to every thinking Englishman: there is, indeed, but one drawback to the holy pleasure we feel at Mr. Ward's sublime discovery, which is, that the Revolutionary flag of France was composed of the same three colours.

The enlightened artist then informs us—speaking of Britannia, "that the twisted lock of hairlayingin front upon her bosom, and over the right arm, is emblematic of"—what do you suppose, reader?—"of the spirit of justice."

"Justice, stern and unrelenting, whose sword is forward, and whose plaited hair is answerable to that sword, and makes in the person of Justice the number three, as expressive of the Trinity, or the whole of Godhead manifested in the awful administration of justice. That sword is serpentine, as expressive of flame, Deity in its principle of fire."

This is "finely confused, and very alarming;" but observe:—

"With the other hand she points through the medium of the Trident to the Trinity in Unity, commanding him to look up to Providence as alone able to give success to his efforts."

This puzzles us; pointing through the medium of "the Trident" appears to us to be something like looking atthe Sun through the medium of a toasting-fork; but we may be wrong.

Mr. Ward then continues:—

"The cat and broken spear are emblems of rebellion and anarchy."—P. 11."The British Lion is majestically observing the effects of his own operations; his countenance shows no symptom of the reign of passion—anger is alone signified by the movement of his tail."

"The cat and broken spear are emblems of rebellion and anarchy."—P. 11.

"The British Lion is majestically observing the effects of his own operations; his countenance shows no symptom of the reign of passion—anger is alone signified by the movement of his tail."

For this illustration of natural history Mr. Ward appears to be indebted to Mathews, who, in his "At Home," told a capital story of a showman and one of the noble beasts in question, in which, while his head is in the lion's mouth, he anxiously inquires of a by-stander, "Doth he wag his tail?" That bit of waggery being indicative (as Mr. Ward has comically painted it) of the ire of lions generally.

Mr. Ward, as matter of information, tells us, page 19, that "the palm-tree grows to the height of five hundred feet, and bears the date and cocoa-nut." What date the trees Mr. Ward alludes to might have borne we cannot say; but certain it is, that modern palms have left off growing to the height of five hundred feet; which, considering it to be about three times the height of the Monument, and one hundred feet more than the height of St. Paul's, is not so very surprising.

The following information, conveyed in page 20, is likely to be very interesting from its importance:—

"Juvenile antagonists in the streets dare not strike an unfair blow, take the other by the hair, or maltreat him when fallen upon the ground. In such case, he not only loses his battle, but also—his character!!!"

At page 22 we have, perhaps, the most finished description of docking a horse that ever was put to paper; it is somewhat lengthy, but it will repay the lover of the sublime for his trouble in reading it:—

"Can any thing be so far from true taste, as to round the ears of a dog, or to cut them off; whatever may be the beauty, breed, or character, to cut off the thumb, or fifth toe, and call it a Dew claw, and consider it of no use! To chop off the tail of a waggon-horse, so necessary and useful to that class of creature; above all, to separate every joint of the tail, with all the misery attending upon it, in order to reverse the order of Nature, and make that turn up which ought to turn down, all equally show the want of taste, as the want of humanity? Who has ever witnessed the operation last alluded to, if not, pause; and in your imagination, behold a nobly-formed, and finely-tempered creature, led from the stable in all the pride of health, and all the playful confidence of being led out, and held by his master and his friend, view the hobbles fastened to his legs, his feet drawn to a point, and himself cast to the earth, so contrary to his expectations and his hopes; observe the commencement, and the lingering process; behold the wreathing of the lovely and as useful animal; how does his heaving breast manifest his astonishment, while his greatly oppressed and labouring heart beats high with resentment, at being thus tampered. His quivering flesh sends through every pore streams of sweat; his open nostrils are bursting with agony of body and spirit, while his strained eye-balls flash as with the fixed glare of expiring nature. Heard you that groan? poor animal. They have began the deed of barbarism! he faintly shrieks, 'tis as the piteous cry of the timid hare, when sinking under the deadly gripe of the fierce, agile, and ravenous greyhound. How he grinds his teeth, and bores his tightly-twitched and twisted lip, and smoking nostril, into the thick litter, or grovelling, rubs his aching forehead into the loose sand; now the sudden and convulsive effort! what a struggle! every nerve, sinew, tendon, stretched to its full bearing, with fearful energy! Oh! that he could now disencumber his fettered limbs, and spring from his tormentors. Those limbs, that would joyfully bound over the broad plain, or patient bear the cumbrous load, nor utter one complaint in the deep toil; or drag with unwearied submission, harnessed, galled, and parched with thirst, the lumbering machine to the very borders of his opening tomb. He groans again, the struggle's over, and he again lays down; while the hoarse breathing and his panting sides, prove that all his energies, his mighty energies, have failed: and the work goes on, still continues, and now another and another gash, and now the iron hook, to tear out from among the separated complicated bones, the tenacious ligament that binds the strong vertebræ; and lastly the burning steel to staunch the streaming blood. Tedious process!—but at length it ceases, and the noble, towering, majestic steed is led back, tottering, trembling, reeling, and dejected, to repose apparently in peace; but ah! another torment, the cord, the weight, the pulley, day o'erday, and week after week, to keep the lips of the gaping, throbbing, aching wounds asunder, to close no more for ever. Enough! enough! our country's shame, for cruelty is not our natural character, our country's vice."

We by no means intend to ridicule Mr. Ward's humanity; but, we confess, as throwing lights upon an allegorical picture of the Duke of Wellington's triumphs, we do not consider the passage quite as much to the purpose as it might be.

At page 29, Mr. Ward states (and with every appearance of believing it) that "Cicero was once a lisping infant, and Sampson, at one period, could not go alone;"—to which assertions we must beg to add, for Mr. Ward's satisfaction, that "Rome was not built in a day."

In his simple style, at page 30, Mr. Ward, speaking of ignorance, says,—

"Loose veins of thought, imaginative intellects, evaporation. As the school-boy's frothy bubble, rising from the turbid elements" soap and water, "its inflated globule exhibits in proud mimicry the Rainbow's gaily painted hues, and calls rude mirth to dance upon its glittering surface, when suddenly it bursts, and all is gone!"

We shall conclude our extracts from this explanatory pamphlet with the following:—

"Shapeless Forms of Death.—Perhaps no part of picturesque representation is so difficult as this. The poet here has much the advantage. Ossian may, by a language all understand, throw the imagination into a delirium, and there leave it bewildered and wandering, in all the confusion of material immateriality; but in painting it is necessary to give a substantial shape to a shapeless form, and substance to a vision. It is not for him to give the ghost of my father as a misty cloud covering a whole mountain, or enlarging itself to the broad expanse of the capacious plain, like the flaky layers of a thick fog, on the opening dawn of a mist-dispersing sunbeam. But the painter must embody disembodied beings, and give 'to airy nothingness a local habitation and a name.' Here the various shapes of blood and carnage are to be contemplated, in the imagery depicted, as cannon-balls, bomb-shells, fiery rockets, swords, spears, and bayonets, with all the horrible effects of their operations; as moving in the conflicted elements; from the head of death's gloomy tribes, the large death-bat, under the arm of the fell monster Death, who is grinning with savage pleasure at the havoc he is making. The monsters are breathing fire, and from their pestiferous dugs dropping streams of blood, as the milk of their nourishment."

Having given some of Mr. Ward's ideas asthey were written, we leave those who have not seen his picture to judge what such ideas must be, upon canvas, with a clumsy hand, and the worst possible taste.

To say that Mr. Ward is mad, is not what we would pretend to say; but coupling his painting with the articles which we have caught and preserved, from his pen, we must believe that there are many very worthy persons at present in Bedlam, who could paint allegories full as well, and describe their meaning afterwards with infinitely more perspicuity.

All we have to do in this affair is to call upon the Directors of the British Institution, if they mean to patronise real merit, or to make their rewards honourable and of value, to disclaim all approbation of the most illustrious and full-sized specimen of pictorial Humbug that ever drew shillings out of the pockets of John Bull.

We have indeed been told that the Institution have (somewhat too late) discovered that they employed an animal painter, to paint them an allegorical picture—they were not aware of their mistake in the outset; but in order to rectify it and induce Mr. Ward to rub out his allegory, they have resolved, it is said, to give him an opportunity of showing his talents in his own line, by sitting to him for their likenesses,—it is added that the portrait of Mr. Richard Payne Knight is already in a high state of forwardness.

To John Bull.

Farm Yard, Claremont, Friday, Sept. 27, 1822.

Sir,—These are the last words I shall ever have an opportunity of addressing to you; my doom, alas! is fixed. I am sentenced to die this evening; neither Alderman Waithman, nor Mr. Ex-Sheriff Parkins, can save me; I am waiting in the condemned coop, thecoup-de-graceof my illustrious master's chicken-butcher.

Probably you anticipate the cause of my death: Sunday is the feast of St. Michael, my blood is required in the mysterious celebration of the ceremonies observed in all well-regulated families on that anniversary. This very day twelve-months my excellent and amiable mother, and my respectable father, perished on the same account.

At this critical juncture, I pick a quill from one of my wings to assure you of that resignation to my fate, which I truly feel:—that it is not unalloyed, Mr. Bull, I must, however, confess. Those who know our family know that we are patriots, that we have souls; and I cannot quit the world without regretting my future destiny. Brought up, sir, as I have been; educated upon the English system in the farm-yard of a Foreign Prince; fattened as I have been at the public expense; I did expect (as all patriots say they do) that the sacrifice of my life might have been of some utility to the country;—but, alas! no: pampered, fed, stuffed as it were by anticipation. What is my doom? Am I to be yielded as a tribute to the nation, whence I have derived my weight and flavour? Am I to gratify the palate of the illustrious Prince, my nominal patron? No; I am to be sold and eaten by some base venal hind in this neighbourhood, who, in these times of wretchedness, cannot dine on Michaelmas-day without me.

What my sensations are at the treatment I have met withyou may, perhaps, comprehend. Will you believe it, sir, I have never seen the illustrious Personage in whose service I have wasted my days. I have never beheld the amiable Prince, to whom, for many reasons, I am warmly attached: first, because I am a goose; secondly, because, thanks to the generosity of the nation, I am his Royal Highness's goose; and, thirdly, because I am a goose of high feeling, honour, and, above all, of gratitude.

What a consolation it would have been to have seen his Royal countenance!—what a disgrace to my family to quit the world without having attained to such a favour! It is true I have received a great deal of pleasure in the occasional society of Sir Robert Gardiner, whose attentions have been very much devoted to our comfort and accommodation in our Royal Master's absence. I certainly found him in pens; which, as you know Sir Robert is fond of writing, was no small return for his civilities—civilities, which I begin shrewdly to suspect were, after all, interested, and more insidious than I apprehend at the moment.

I ought to apologise for trespassing at such length upon your patience; but, having been for a considerable time a constant correspondent of theMorning Chronicle, I am habituated to what are vulgarly called long-winded letters; and when a goose prints his own grievances he is generally somewhat diffuse. My wrongs are now strongest in my recollection, and I am anxious that my family reputation should not suffer in my person, and therefore devote my last moments—my last words to you.

If you were a goose, Mr. Editor, how would you bear with indignities like those I have suffered? Sir, the Heralds' College could prove, and would prove, if they were sufficiently well paid for it, that I am lineally descended from the noble bird who saved the Roman Capitol; and it is in consequence a common observation amongst the poulterers at Kingston, that "there are Capitol geese at Claremont;" which classical saying of that erudite body has been garbled into the morevulgar observation, that "there are capital geese at Prince Leopold's;" inferring thereby that part of his Royal Highness's capital consists of geese!

It is needless to tell you, that the branch of my family which has settled itself in Norfolk is in the most flourishing state, and that at Holkham, at this present moment, there is an old Goose held in high estimation amongst the Whigs. At Woburn Abbey, another set of my connexions are in high force, and admirably calculated for cutting up and roasting; while in the North, the Grey Geese are reckoned invaluable as a cross breed, the head of that coop being the identical bird celebrated in the Fable of the Fox and Goose, to which the Tories have subjoined a very salutary if not pleasant moral. To the notice of these most honourable birds I may add one of the younger scions of our stock, the Goslings—who, as everybody knows, are a most excellent and respectable firm in the City of London.

These things disturb me. I have contributed to the funds of my Master, I am about to lay down my life for his advantage, and, I repeat, he has never seen me. There are thousands of geese, I am ready to grant, labouring under the same disadvantage, and thousands of human beings too, but to them the disappointment is not of the same nature as to us: none but geese would contribute to support an absentee as we do; and yet, supporting him, none but a goose would care about ever seeing him again.

I must cease—the poulterer's cart and my end approach. I have heard that the only modification of my sentence which I ventured to request—the change of strangling into decapitation—is refused me; His Royal Highness's ministers here declaring that I cannot be sent off the premises without a bill. It matters little, Mr. Bull, but I must say, it is not what I expected. Publish my letter, that my Prince may see how he is beloved and respected, and by whom;—he has been at Rome, but never thought of me or mine; perhaps he never heard of the story which connects us with that once mightycity. Adieu!—One of my sisters has already suffered: would I were a swan, I would sing my own elegy—they come nearer—they have seized my pens—I can only give—what we occasionally have here—a great quack, and subscribe myself,

Your affectionate Gander,Billy.

P.S.—Noanserwill reach me; but in making any further inquiries about me, be cautious, as there is a much greater Goose than myself of my name, living at Bagshot, which, being in this neighbourhood, might cause some confusion.

The first general meeting of this excellent society took place on Thursday, at the residence of one of its most powerful supporters; and, considering the skeleton state of the metropolis, was satisfactorily attended. We have received an account of the proceedings, under a promise not to mention the names of the committee; and the word "confidential" written diagonally in one corner of our correspondent's letter, prevents our giving the report as fully and satisfactorily as we could wish.

The great Gamboogee himself, however, was present, and explained the nature and intention of the society very succinctly. It may perhaps be necessary to quote for our readers this account of their general views, as detailed by his Lordship.

In the first place, it appears to the excessively correct persons who compose this grave body, that a Christian should never be merry—that it is the bounden duty of all well-disposed persons to groan and sigh, and make themselves as uncomfortable as possible during their stay upon earth; andin order to render themselves apparently subservient to the regulations which they propose to lay down for others, the members have their seats provided on the hardest possible benches, the president being compelled to sit in very thin silk breeches, upon a horse-hair bottomed stool, without either arms or back,i.e., while they are in public!

Every member is bound, on similar occasions, to wear large worsted stockings, with the tightest possible shoes, stiff stocks, and hats considerably too small for their heads. Thus accoutred, it is their intention to effect, under the authority they very frequently have on their tongues, a total reformation in society.

They intend to begin with Brookes's and Boodle's, which are to be consigned forthwith to the superintendence of four respectable Dowagers; and the direction of Almack's is to be vested in the hands of six able ministers, to be selected by the great Gamboogee himself for that purpose, next May, previously to the commencement of the ensuing winter season.

In order to prevent the shameful impositions practised upon the credulity of minors of fashion and fortune, by unprincipled women of no property, the Hum-Fum Gamboogees have opened establishments for the reception of young gentlemen of worldly propensities, which are to be placed under the surveillance of most active and pious men.

Similar receptacles for young ladies, whose flagrant desires lead them into the abominable vices of dancing or singing, will be prepared, where, in rooms hung with black, and from which the much too comfortable glare of day will be excluded, they will be taught to see, in their proper colours, the enormity of those crimes of which they have been guilty, and which their sinful mothers, grandmothers, and great grandmothers, have been rash and vile enough to commit in a similar way.

It appearing to the Hum-Fum Gamboogees that the sun is by far too great a blessing for such wretched creatures aswe are, they recommend a careful seclusion during the day, and suggest that wet or windy nights are the most suitable occasions for taking exercise.

A total abstinence from wine is earnestly desired to be observed by the young gentlemen of London, whose interests the Hum-Fums have very near their hearts; and they mention weak black tea as a substitute, or a proportion of that excellent succadaneum for Hyson, chopped hay, which was seriously recommended to the attention of the world, a short time since, through the columns of theMorning Post.

Several well-dressed and respectable elderly gentlemen, with umbrellas, will attend in Hyde Park every day, until the abomination of frequenting such places be utterly abolished, to escort young men to pious ordinaries, where it is recommended they should dine, in order to prevent those unnatural sins, flirting, dangling, and making the amiable.

A vast many devout minor agents of the society will be employed to divest the pockets of persons of snuff-boxes, it never having been required by nature to feed one's nose.

It is strongly recommended that every one should abstain from frequenting play-houses, and in order to effect this great object, or at all events to render the performances sufficiently disagreeable to be quite correct, it is suggested that the company of performers, who acted at the Haymarket Theatre last season, be the only persons licensed to exhibit in the metropolis.

The Hum-Fums will visit the houses of their neighbours, after the fashion of that most excellent brother corporation, the Bible Society, and will make it their business to enquire into the state of every man's domestic affairs; in order, if possible, to rescue from degradation the servants of London, whose subordination (although, by the active endeavours of similar unions, they are getting gradually independent of their masters and mistresses,) is derogatory to the dignity of the human character.

The Hum-Fums will distribute amongst the domesticssuch works as may tend to elevate their minds, open their intellects, make them dissatisfied with debasement, and enable them, by the blessing of Providence, to rise superior to that oppression by which the sinful luxuries of society have humiliated them. Several Hum-Fums of the highest character for dulness and gravity will attend in the kitchens and servants'-halls of each parish, to edify their tenants every evening from eight till twelve.

It will be the study of the Hum-Fums to impress upon the soldiers of this kingdom the sin and shame of carrying muskets and bayonets for pay, and of slaughtering their fellow-creatures for no cause whatever; and by the way in which they expect to be enabled to make their light shine, they hope to convince their brethren in arms that officers are but men, and that obedience from one man to another is by no means necessary to salvation.

The sailors they intend to leave entirely to the pious society called the Bethel Union, convinced that nothing the Hum-Fums can do will more effectually emasculate and sanctify at the same time the sea service, and purge it of its worldly power to do mischief, than the blessed exertions of that inestimable institution.

Riding in carriages, especially on Sundays, they most energetically denounce; and it is proposed to solicit the several lessees of the turnpike trusts round London to allow ministers, selected by a council of Hum-Fums, to be placed at the different toll-gates, to dissuade the infatuated people from enjoying the sun and air of heaven on the only day which they have to themselves, and on which, in obedience to the Decalogue, they do no manner of work.

Night agents of the society will be regularly posted at the doors of all public-houses within the bills of mortality, to check the ingress of sinners to such places; and in order more effectually to promote the devout intentions of the society, Messrs. Whitbread (whose very name inspires respect), Mr. Calvert, and Mr. Buxton have intimated azealous desire to leave off brewing the liquor which the wretched sinners are so depraved as to swallow in those receptacles for vice.

No rank of society will be free from the surveillance of this pious body. At the Opera, a superior class of agents will be always in attendance to superintend the friendly intercourse of the best families, and by an assiduous watchfulness over the manners and conversations of the various parties, many of those heartrending divisions in society which shock morality will be doubtless prevented.

The Hum-Fums earnestly recommend frequent physicking and bleeding, with a view to the moderation of worldly appetites; and suggest, in the hope of keeping up an incessant feeling of the wretched state to which we are reduced, that all persons between the ages of fifteen and sixty should wear perpetual blisters.

The Hum-Fums earnestly request subscriptions to carry their spiritual benefits into effect, and they would impress upon the minds of those who are hastening to perdition in the same abominable and destructive road, which every one of their ancestors and relations have taken, that all things are subservient to the principles which the Hum-Fums teach, and that without money the Hum-Fums cannot exist.

After the proceedings in which this development of their views was made, the Hum-Fums nominated thirty-five treasurers and sixty-eight secretaries at respectable salaries. Most of the Hum-Fums being decidedly hostile to the establishment in State as well as Church, this was considered the only virtuous mode whereby to provide for those persons, who, though in humbler life had always relied upon the Hum-Fums for support, and whose laudable exertions in exciting a proper melancholy, and a substantial discontent, deserve the highest praise.

The Hum-Fums, after this part of the ceremony, proceeded to sing psalms and hymns, the productions of the Rev. Mr. Smith, of Penzance, whose meritorious conduct under hiscall, from the station of boatswain in His Majesty's service, to the ministry, demanded their warmest admiration.

Miss Rebecca Engleheart presented the society with a small pasteboard windmill, in the hopper of which were three shillings and ninepence halfpenny, which she had collected by the exhibition of her little toy.

The great Hum-Fum Gamboogee was extremely gratified by this specimen of pious ingenuity, and put the sails of the model into rapid motion, which excited great gratitude and applause.

Two Otaheitean watermen and a New Zealand coppersmith were elected Hum-Fums: they spoke at length of the benefits which their respective nations had received from the exertions of the society, and the latter presented to the society the heads of his elder brother and his sister-in-law, which he had cut off since his notions of property had been matured under its benign influence.

At this period of the proceedings an interruption took place which threatened the unanimity of the society; this, considering the society, as we do, to be one, of which all the members ought to hang together, created a very unpleasant feeling.

One of the members, more lukewarmthan the rest, inquired by what authority the Hum-Fums were to take upon themselves the charge of correcting their neighbours, and setting the world in general to rights; adding a doubt as to the obedience of a nation like England, famed for its independence, and envied for the blessings of religious toleration, to thedictaof a committee of Hum-Fums. "For," said the pious member, "although I speak under correction, and with all due deference to the great Hum-Fum Gamboogee and my sanctified brethren, I do not see the right by which we, being only men like themselves, are, in a country of liberty, to control our fellow-creatures in their recreations and amusements; seeing, that if they are to go to perdition for doing that, which has been ordinarily done in Great Britain for thelast four or five centuries, we are to conclude that all our forefathers have forfeited their hopes of happiness hereafter, because the system of Hum-Fumism did not exist; which reflection is not only melancholy, but, as I am bound to trust, not founded in fact. Moreover, sir," added the brother, addressing himself to the most venerable Gamboogee, "your Lordship must know, that in Roman Catholic countries the Sunday is universally a day of gaiety; that dances, and even plays, are performed on that day; and since, I believe, many of the great Hum-Fums who now hear me, voted in another place in favour of the Roman Catholics, they should be cautious, while they cry for the admission of such levities with one breath, not to condemn, with another, to eternal punishment the Protestants, who, although it must be confessed they contrive, even in these times of distress, to enjoy themselves on Sundays, confine themselves to a walk or drive into the country, with their wives and children, and a harmless regale of their pipes and their pots, their buggies and their bottles, or their carriages and their claret, as the case may be——"

"Harmless!" said the great Hum-Fum, the buckles of his wig standing on end!

"And I doubt much," continued the former speaker, "whether the very proceedings we are about to adopt will not sicken those of moderately pious lives, and——"

"Sicken, sir!" interrupted the great Hum-Fum—"look at the navy, sir! Do you not perceive that the blessed institution, the Bethel Union, of which Master Phillips and myself are the main props, has taken the navy under its care—that we are to control the pleasures of the sailors—to correct their propensities—dock them of their girls and their grog—and allowance them even in pig-tail? If this experiment succeed—if the navy submit to this most proper control and purification, why should not the army and the laity generally submit to it too? What did Oliver Cromwell do, sir? Had not he a preaching army?——"

Here a considerable noise of coughing took place; for though the ultra Hum-Fums were too much involved in zeal to think of analogies, the designing and radical Hums, who had merely joined the society for political purposes, felt that the mention of old Noll might throw the more moderate into a train of thoughts for which they had not as yet been sufficiently prepared.

The confusion caused the great Gamboogee to cease; when a servant entered and whispered his Lordship. What the communication was we were unable to learn, as an adjournment was immediately moved and carried. The fact is—dinner was ready.

We have once or twice alluded to a scheme (forwarded to us by the Author) for rendering theatrical entertainments strictly moral; and, it appears to us, that no season can be better suited to its development than the present.

The gentleman, to whose exertions in the behalf of virtue and decency, the public are even now greatly indebted, and whose plan, if carried into effect, will entitle him to the gratitude of the nation at large, is the Rev. Mr. Plumptree, who has published a volume of dramatic pieces illustrative of his purpose, which blend with deep interest a purity of thought and propriety of language rarely to be met with in the theatrical works of the day.

The first of the dramas is called "Royal Beneficence, or the Emperor Alexander," and is founded on an event which occurred to his Russian Majesty, on the banks of the Wilna, where he restored a drowning young man by the means prescribed by the Humane Society, which means of restoration are published with the play—evidently with the bestintentions. Mr. Plumptree offered this piece to Covent Garden and to Drury Lane, but it was by both rejected; then Mr. Hindes, the manager of the Norwich playhouse, had the refusal of it; but he, like the London proprietors, objected to its appearance because a living character was introduced.

Mr. Plumptree reasons very fairly upon the futility of this excuse, and prints the detail of the Emperor's indefatigable exertions, upon which his play is founded, together with many other interesting documents concerning the valuable charity to which the piece is dedicated.

The drama is full of interest and good feeling; and although, in the present state of the stage, there is, perhaps, a want of bustle, still the affecting incident at the end of the first act, where the dead body of the hero is dragged out of the water, and stripped upon the stage, under the immediate inspection of the Emperor, who says,—

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