prominent heads of his speech. He had been a soldier and a sailor, and had a son at Winchester School; he had been called by special retainers during the summer into many different and distant parts of the country, travelling chiefly in post-chaises. He felt himself called upon to declare that his poor faculties were at the service of his country-of the free and enlightened part of it at least. He stood here as a man. He stood in the eye, indeed, in the hand of God, to whom (in the presence of the company and waiters) he solemnly appealed. He was of noble, perhaps royal blood; he had a house at Hampstead, was convinced of the necessity of a thorough and radical reform; his pamphlets had gone through thirty editions, skipping alternately the odd and even numbers; he loved the Constitution, to which he would cling and grapple, and he was clothed with the infirmities of man's nature; he would apply to the present French rulers (particularly Barras and Rewbell) the words of the poet:

Be to their faults a little blind,
Be to their virtues very kind ;
Let all their ways be unconfined,

And clap a padlock on their mind. And for these reasons, thanking the gentlemen who had done him the honour to drink his health, he should propose, Merlin, the late Minister of Justice, and Trial by Jury!' Mr. Erskine here concluded a speech which had occupied the attention and excited the applause of his audience during the space of little less than three hours, allowing for about three-quarters of an hour, which wore occupied by successive fits of fainting between the principal subdivisions of his discourse.

There does not exist in English, there certainly did not before the publication of Mr. Mallock’s ‘New Republic,' a prose parody containing so much wit without being offensive, so happily hitting off the foibles of the victims, or so ingeniously ridiculing their theories without grossly exaggerating their absurdities.

To leave the more strictly political satire of the 'Anti-Jacobin' and to turn to the portions where philosophical and literary extravagance is parodied is perhaps to tread on less well-known ground, or on one which appeals less to the present day, as the victims and their productions are, as a rule, less well remembered, But The Progress of Man,'' The Loves of the Triangles,' and · The Rovers,' could not be passed by without notice, for they have nothing to lose by comparison with the more famous verses already quoted.

· The Progress of Civil Society,' a poem of considerable length in the heroic couplet by a certain Mr. Knight, told of the imagined corruption wrought in the nature of man by the increase of civilisation-an idea borrowed, of course, from Rousseau and his school. The poet sang how Love

In softer notes bids Libyan lions roar,
And warms the whale on Zembla's frozen shore, &c., &c.

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which Canning, in The Progress of Man,' thus perverts, but

hardly changes:

Mark

How Libyan tigers' chawdrons Love assails,
And warms, midst seas of ice, the melting whales;
Cools the crimpt cod, fierce pangs to perch imparts,
Shrinks shrivelled shrimps, but opens oysters' hearts;
Then say how all these things together tend

To one great truth, prime object, and good end.'

The school which was disposed to chafe at the fetters of the marriage tie, and was demanding a wider area of choice, is thus dealt with:

Of whist or cribbage mark th' amusing game,
The Partners changing, but the sport the same;
Else would the gamester's anxious ardour cool,
Dull every deal, and stagnant every pool.
Yet must one man with one unceasing wife
Play the long rubber of connubial life.
Yes! human laws, and laws esteemed divine,
The generous passion straiten and confine.

For Love then only flaps her purple wings
When uncontrolled by Priestcraft or by Kings.

Yet bright examples sometimes we observe
Which from the general practice seem to swerve;
Such as, presented to Germania's view,

A Kotzebue's bold, emphatic pencil drew;

Such as, translated in some future age,
Shall add new glories to the British stage.

References to the anti-social tendencies of the new school of German playwrights are to be found scattered up and down in the pages of the Anti-Jacobin,' but no direct parody appeared until June 1798.

It must be remembered that, at that time, only the more exuberant productions of the German muse were known in England. Schiller's 'Robbers' had not long before sent a whole university to the high road to emulate its heroes, and there was much that was ridiculous in Kotzebue to appeal to the facile pens of Canning and his band. "The Rovers, or the Double Arrangement,' is not merely a skit on one particular German play, but is founded on the absurdities of several authors. The Robbers'

Note the delightful remark of Chaumette (procureur of the Commune) to the newly married couples, Le Divorce est le dieu tutélaire de l'Hy men.'

VOL. V.-NO. 25, N.S.

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and Kotzebue's works helped to furnish material ; but undoubtedly it was chiefly founded on a remarkable production of Goethe's youth, Stella,' the plot of which is that the weak, but attractive, Fernando marries two wives, they all meet at an inn, and an éclaircissement follows, which results in the three living together happily ever after! Goethe in 1806 changed the dénouement and made Fernando and Stella commit suicide ; but the original certainly offered a fair field for parody, of which full advantage was taken.

Matilda Pottingen, the heroine of The Rovers,' living in more or less complicated relations with Rogero and Casimere, is known to all the world from Rogero's song, the last verse of which is said to have been a contribution of Pitt to the armoury of wit and ridicule which proved so valuable a support to his policy.

Matilda soliloquises thus on love while waiting for dinner :

Oh, Casimere ! how often have the thoughts of thee served to amuse these moments of expectation! What a difference, alas! Dinner-it is taken away as soon as over, and we regret it not. It returns again with the return of appetite. The beef of to-morrow will succeed to the mutton of to.day, as the mutton of to-day succeeded to the veal of yesterday. But when once the heart has been occupied by a beloved object, in vain would we attempt to supply the chasm by another. How easily are our desires transferred from dish to dish! Love only, dear, delusive, delightful love, restrains our wandering appetites, and confines them to a particular gratification!

In a conversation between the landlord and the waiter, Canning and Ellis, who were jointly responsible for the first act, have a hit at their Jacobin bête-noire.

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Landlord-Have you carried the dinner to the prisoner? in the vaults of the abbey ?

the well-known ditty, the last verse of which is said to have been written by Pitt:

Sun, moon, and thou vain world, adieu,
That kings and priests are plotting in ;
Here, doomed to starve on water gru--
-el, never shall I see the U-

-niversity of Göttingen,
-niversity of Göttingen.

Rogero' is undoubtedly Robert Adair, who was educated at Göttingen and afterwards appeared in the Anti-Jacobin Bobba-Dara-Adul-Phoola.

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In another scene Puddingfield and Beefington, English noblemen, exiled by the tyranny of King John previous to the signature of Magna Charta,' appear. The names are not more ridiculous than some supposed to be British on the German stage, where we ourselves have seen 'Sir John Plumstershire' figuring as a typical baronet; and the authors cite Goldoni, who, having heard that the English were distinguished for their love of liberty and beef, had judiciously compounded the two words, Runnymede and beef, and thereby produced an English nobleman, whom he styles 'Lord Runnybeef.'

We give the scene between the exiles, which is full of delightful hits at the Opposition. They are playing 'All Fours.'

Beef-Lost! I have lost my country.

Y. Pot. And I my sister.

Beef. O England!

Beef. What are All Fours to a mind ill at ease? Can they cure the heartache? Can they soothe banishment? Can they lighten ignominy? Oh! my Puddingfield, thy limber and lightsome spirit bounds up against affliction, with the elasticity of a well-bent bow; but mine-O, mine!

(Falls into an agony and sinks back in his chair. Young Pottingen, awakened by the noise, rises, and advances with a grave demeanour towards Beefington and Puddingfield.)

Y. Pot. What is the matter, comrades? You seem agitated. Have you lost or won?

Y. Pot.-O Matilda !

Beef-Exiled by the tyranny of an usurper. I seek the means of revenge, and of restoration to my country.

Y. Pot.-Oppressed by the tyranny of an abbot, persecuted by the jealousy of a count, the betrothed husband of my sister languishes in a loathsome captivity her lover fled no one knows whither-and I, her brother, am torn from my paternal roof, and from my studies in chirurgery, to seek him and her, I know not where; to rescue Rogero, I know not how. Comrades, your counsel. In

This word in the original means, Co-occupants of the same room, in a house let out at a small rent by the week.' There is no single English word to express so complicated a relation.

yonder abbey, in the dank dark vaults, there, my friends, there lies Rogero, there Matilda's heart

Enter Waiter. Sir, here is a person desires to speak with you.

Beef. (Goes to the door and returns with a letter. On perusing it his countenance becomes illuminated.)-Hah! my friend, what joy—

Pudd.-What? tell me, let your Puddingfield partake it.

Beef.-See here. A newspaper. (With extreme earnestness.)
Pudd.-Its name?

Beef. The Daily Advertiser.'

Pudd.-Oh! ecstasy!

Beef.-Puddingfield, calm yourself, repress those transports, remember that you

are a man.

Pudd. (After a pause, with suppressed emotion.)-I am calm; but tell me, does it contain any news?

Beef.-Glorious news, my dear Puddingfield, the Barons are victorious. King John has been defeated. Magna Charta, that venerable, immemorial inheritance of Britons, was signed last Friday these three weeks, the third of July Old Style.

Pudd. (Reads.)-A hireling print, devoted to the Court, has dared to question our veracity respecting the events of yesterday; but by to-day's accounts our information appears to have been perfectly correct. The Charter of our Liberties received the royal signature at five o'clock, when messengers were immediately despatched to Cardinal Pandulfo; and their Majesties, after partaking of a cold collation, returned to Windsor.' I am satisfied.

Beef.-Yet, here again, there are some further particulars. Extract of a letter from Egham. My dear friend, we all here in high spirits, the interesting event which took place this morning at Runnymede, in the neighbourhood of this town.

"

Pudd.-Hah, Runnymede! enough, no more, my doubts are vanished-then are we free indeed.

When returning on the way to Hamburg they meet and surprise Casimere, an old acquaintance.

Beef. Oh, Casimere-to fly-to return. England-our country-Magna Charta -it is liberated-a new era-House of Commons-Crown and Anchor-Opposition.

Cas. What a contrast! You are flying to liberty and your home-I, driven from my home by tyranny, am exposed to domestic slavery in a foreign country.

Beef.--How domestic slavery?

Cas.-Too true, two wives! You knew my Cecilia ?

Pudd.-Yes, five years ago.

Cas. Soon after that period I went upon a visit to a lady in Weteravia-my Matilda was under her protection. Alighting at a peasant's cabin, I saw her on a charitable visit, spreading bread and butter for the children in a light blue riding habit. The simplicity of her appearance, the fineness of the weather, all conspired to interest me; my heart moved to hers as if by a magnetic sympathy — we wept, embraced, and went home together. She became the mother of my Pantolowski. But five years of enjoyment have not stifled the reproaches of my conscience- her Rogero is languishing in captivity. If I could but restore her to him!

Beef. Let us rescue him.

The rest of the plot is given in the words of the authors.

Casimere communicates his scheme to Puddingfield and Beefington, who agree to assist him; as also does young Pottingen. The waiter of the inn, proving to be