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Peace to thy banks, thou gentle Beheld me at the peep of dawn,
Where first I saw the light,
Yet do thy murmurs fill my dream, And soothe the sleep of night.
Loud clamouring o'er my book.
Ah! me, how many a restless day
The house which stands upon the hill, Which slew each little care.
The waving wood behind,
The distant church, the busy mill, Are pictur'd in my mind.
O let me wander o'er again
These scenes of artless joy,
The teacher was an aged wight,
With spectacles on nose;
To me how dreadful was the sight, When'er his anger rose.
And mark the shades, the hills and My book, bethumb'd dog-ear'd and
I rambled while a boy.
Fond memory, bear me to that cliff, That overhangs the shore,
And let me watch the passing skiff, And hear the dashing oar...
On that rude seat, with moss o'ergrown,
I often lay, reclin'd,
One night I sat upon that rock,
The close of day had toll'd the clock,
Each day he heard me read;
Good man! he's gone, he's sunk to
His little reign is o'er,
And squabling imps shall not molest His peace and quiet more.
For the Literary Magazine.
THE MAN WITH THE HUGE NOSE.
In Imitation of the Manner of Sterne.
My uncle Toby, one cold Decem
Pale rose the moon, and o'er the flood ber evening, sat smoking his pipe
Her trembling lustre cast,
The moon withdrew her silver beam, The night grew damp and dark, Lash'd by the north-wind, howl'd the
And rose the watch-dog's bark
Ah! then I started from my seat,
Such fears leave sunshine in the breast,
When all the danger's gone: Sweet are the dreams of childhood's rest,
When some gay trophy's won.
by the fire, involved in deep reverie, when Corporal Trim entered. Please your honour, said the Corpral, slowly approaching. My uncle Toby made no reply. There is a biting air abroad, your honour. Shall My uncle Toby spoke not.
I help your honour to a cup of sack, continued the Corporal, raising his voice. Still my uncle Toby was silent. I have seen the man with the huge nose, said Trim. My uncle Toby dropped his pipe. I have seen the man with the large nose, continued the Corporal; the man whom your honour heard so much of in Strasburgh, with the satincrimson breeches. The same who was seen by the centinel and the bandy-legged trumpeter, Trim?.... The same, your honour. My uncle Toby arose. I dreamt that I saw
That school-house on the shaded lawn, that man last night, Trim, conti
Beside the babbling brook,
nued my uncle Tuby, just as he en
tered the gates of Strasburgh, holding a scimitar before his nose. Heaven defend his nose, exclaimed the Corporal. Let no man do it any harm, echoed my uncle Toby. Heaven defend it from the finger of the bandy-legged trumpeter, continued the Corporal. And from those of the hostess of the inn, continued my uncle Toby. May his crimsonsatin breeches escape all danger, exclaimed the Corporal. May they escape all pollution, echoed my uncle Toby. May the hands of the trumpeter's wife never lay hold upon them, continued Trim. Nor of the hostess of the inn, continued my uncle Toby. He has a noble nose, please your honour, said Trim.... the bandy-legged trumpeter swore it was as long as his trumpet, and that it made a noise as loud....the bandy-legged trumpeter's wife swore it was a sweet nose, and as soft as a flute....O! it is a noble nose, your honour. Trim, quoth my uncle Toby, I should like to see that nose.
You shall see it, please his majesty, exclaimed the Corporal ....I will fetch it to your honour. Forget not, Trim, replied my uncle, to bring the man along with his nose. Trim disappeared, and my uncle Toby walked the room, agitated and silent. The clock had struck eight, when Trim returned with a nose in his hand, followed by an elegant young stranger. Here, your honour, said Trim, is the man, and here is the nose. My uncle Toby was silent, gazing on the stranger. Before him stood the figure of a man of twenty-five, tall, and of a martial air. He was arrayed in a military habit, and wore a small scimitar on his thigh. His countenance was manly and noble, but overcast with a shade of melancholy sadness. As he cast on my uncle Toby a look from his darkbrown eyes, a big tear rolled from his cheek. Gallant stranger, I have seen you before, said my uncle Toby. You have, said the stranger, while he fell on one knee, and raised his hands toward heaven. I have scen you before, and I know you
now, said my uncle, while he fell on his neck, and wept. Ask him, please your honour, quoth Trim, the Corporal, why he wore this huge nose....and what has become of his crimson-satin breeches....if they have escaped the fingers of the bandy-legged trumpeter's wife, and those of the hostess of the inn.... Hold thy peace, Trim, quoth my uncle Toby, while he wiped his eyes, we will hear that by and by.... Trim? Your honour, answered Trim. Trim, continued my uncle Toby, in a mournful voice....Here I am, answered the Corporal.... Trim, continued my uncle still more mournful. God bless your honour, exclaimed Trim, letting fall the waxen nose. Mend that fire, Trim, and bring me another pipe, ended my uncle Toby.
THE ascendancy of the French language, in the nations who are neighbours of France, is a circumstance somewhat remarkable. In the English language, for instance, we find the technical vocabulary of several arts to be chiefly or wholly French. In many cases not only words are pure French, but the order in which they stand in the phrase, is agreeable to the French fashion, and very many of these words and phrases are not of remote and Norman origin, but recently imported. As, The Art Military, Prerogative Royal, Ambassador Plenipotentiary, Envoy Extraordinary, Commissary General, and so forth.
It just now occurred to me to inquire what arts had adopted their language from the French. In the first place, the art of war, and its kindred art of fortification, are entirely French. Their terms are all borrowed from that language.
The diplomatic dialect is French, and many French terms and phrases.
are preserved when the correspondence of governments is carried on in English, or translated into it. It is remarkable, that the only occasion on which the adjective of Briain is Britannic, is in diplomatic papers, in imitation of the French adjective. This is so well established, that to say his British or his English majesty, would be a solecism; whereas to substitute Britannic for British on any other occasion, would be equally singular and uncouth. The Britannic fleet or army, would sound as strangely as his British majesty.
The terms in cookery, in confectionary, in perfumery, in hair-dressing are mostly imported, together with the arts themselves, from France.
Among the fine arts, music derives its language from Italy. The terms of sculpture and painting are many of them Italian, and many of them are also French. To France are we indebted for most of our architectural terms.
The terms of science are chiefly derived from the Greek and Latin. The French, however, have the honour of inventing an entire new language for chemistry. The French revolution, as it has given birth to a great many new doctrines, has likewise brought into existence a great number of new words; and the English, with an unaccountable servility, have always made haste to adopt them. It is common to hear writers and speakers declaiming against France, and against innovation in general, in a language that may be termed revolutionary French, and which would be quite unintelligible to the contemporaries of Steele and Addison. The English are hostile to innovation in every thing but language.
In the arrangements now taking place in England to resist impending invasion, there is a law for raising what is called, in direct imitation of the French, an army of reserve. This phrase (like one of long standing, though also borrow ed from the French, corps de re
serve, or body of reserve,) is a direct hostility on the genius of old English, but it is used merely because the French have given the same name to the same thing.
For the Literary Magazine.
THE EPITHET ROYAL.
THE affectation of honouring places, associations, and professions with the epithet Royal, which at present prevails in England, and formerly in France, has been carried to great, and sometimes ridiculous extremes. In England, the first society of sages called itself the Royal Society. It would puzzle any one to discover, from their title, the pursuits of the association. In this case, the appellation is merely fulsome and unmeaning flattery, since it is well known, that this fraternity owed nothing, at its first formation, to the King. Within a short period a great number of societies have sprung up, which, from the spirit of absurd imitation, or with a view to curry favour with majesty, have been careful to add royal to their name. Thus we have the Royal African Association, the Royal Academy, the Royal Institution of Great Britain, the Royal Insurance Company, the Royal Bank (of Edinburgh,) the Royal Jennerian Society, the Royal Aca demy of Dublin, the Royal Society of Edinburgh.
Among the Royals of elder date, we have the Royal Exchange, the Royal College of Physicians, and Theatres-Royal of Drury-lane and Covent-Carden. In recent times, the establishment of new theatres has put their proprietors to sad shifts for names sufficiently diguified; one of them is obliged to reverse the name already in use, and to call itself The Royal Theare.
The thrifty class of mankind, who have their subsistence to procure by studying the popular humour, have made extensive use of this epithet. Travellers describe
the whimsical effect produced in this respect, among the French artizans, by the change of governOn the downfal of the monarchy, "Royal" was every where superseded by "nationale," and very odd combinations ensued.
We in America, having no kings nor princes among us, are obliged to content ourselves with describing our vocations by their proper I do not recollect to have met with but one instance in which an artist has endeavoured to acquire repute by the use of some great name. Many of my readers, perhaps, recollect an advertisement of a New-York operator on the teeth, who advertised himself as "Dentist to the late General Washington;" and to support his pretensions, published a letter from the General, which ran in these terms....Sir, whenever I have occasion for your services in the way of your profession, I shall have no objection to employ you.
I recollect a barber, for whose razor I used to have daily occasion, who displayed one morning an unusual share of self-importance, which he presently accounted for, by telling me that he had just had the honour of shaving his excellency the Governor.
For the American Register.
THE ELOQUENCE OF PITT,
FOX AND ERSKINE.
[The kindness of a friend has permit-
London, 13th July, 1803.
permit such an opportunity to oc-
*The writer here alludes to the difficulty of gaining access House of Commons, on occasion of Pitt's speech on the renewal of war. The contemporary journalists mention this speech as having been lost to the world by the exclusion of the note-takers. The writer, more adventurous and more fortunate, got a seat in the lobby of the house, by being thrown headlong, though without injury, with a score or two of others, from the gallery, by the pressure of an immense crowd.
life, I, at last, witnessed the full blaze of Mr. Pitt's eloquence. This last is the great era of my enjoyments here, pre-eminently surpassing all the rest, and so far, indeed, as almost to make me recollect it alone. You will believe all I say, when I assure you, that Mr. Pitt realized the highest expectations I had formed. He is the greatest orator that I ever heard. His eloquence is a clear and constant stream; you admire its majestic windings, you are dazzled by the lights reflected from its smooth and unbroken surface. I feel its presence, when I behold the current rolling in the field of my imagination, and I strive in vain to discover some other object which can convey to you a more correct idea of this great orator. His very defects are so peculiarly fitted to each other, that they do not impair the great character of his eloquence, while his forcible reasoning, his ardent and uninterrupted delivery occupy the mind, and carry it along with him, it does not perceive that his person is slender, his carriage and gesture awkward, or that his periods, so happily are they balanced, and so well adjusted to the tone and cadence of his voice, are longer than the rules of criticism allow to discourses which are to be spoken. Without the formality and stiffness of formal divisions of his subject, he displays the most methodical arrangment, so natural that, while you listen to him, you do not perceive it, and, after speaking two hours, you think that he has spoken only a few minutes. His style is rather argumentative than figurative. But although it presents you no bold apostrophes, no splendid comparisons, it abounds with tropes and metaphors, which come to his assistance unasked, which he utters without appearing to be conscious of using them, and which you perceive only in the general light they shed over his discourse. They resemble the innumerable stars which compose the galaxy, and which a telescope
VOL. I....NO. 1.
only can separate into distinct luminaries.
He is completely the sun of eloquence in the House of Commons, for he eclipses the light of every other orator. Mr. Fox is the morning-star only, till his great opponent rises. Mr. Fox's eloquence is wholly of a different character. In invention, quickness of apprehension, variety of illustration, humour, and one species of pathetic eloquence.... perhaps in all the constituents of eloquence, derived from the mind, independent of delivery, he is at least equal, if not superior to Mr. Pitt. In that which addresses itself to the tender emotions of the heart, Fox is, I believe, unrivalled. In his late speech, he displayed, in a very uncommon degree, a talent for exciting the ridiculous. He succeeded so well, as to make the patriotic ardour, kindled by Mr. Pitt, and those who took the same side of the question, explode in repeated bursts of laughter. In the character of Muley Molock, Mr. Pitt laughed heartily at himself, and the declaimers against the injustice of France were astonished, when they came to defend their own country from the same charge, to perceive that their arguments must resemble the reply of " the lady in the farce," that "she had always been chaste on this side of the Cape of Good Hope." But Mr. Fox's delivery is exceedingly disagreeable. His voice is squeaking, his utterance embarrassed and interrupted. He frequently recals his words, and alters the arrangement of his sentences, after having gone half through them. Nevertheless, there is no orator, after Mr. Pitt, who deserves to be compared with Mr. Fox; and, on the whole, I believe there is less eloquence in England than in America. I have not mentioned Mr. Sheridan, because I have not had the pleasure of hearing him, except for a few minutes. Gray, Erskine, Canning and Wilberforce, have no pretensions to eloquence, nor is there one great