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spair, the Irish are faithful to their trust. But till equal | jesty's ministers permit me to say a few words, not on energy is imparted throughout by the extension of free- their merits, for that would be superfluous, but on the dom, you cannot enjoy the full benefit of the strength degree of estimation in which they are held by the which you are glad to interpose between you and de- people of these realms. The esteem in which they are struction. Ireland has done much, but will do more. held has been boasted of in a triumphant tone on a At this moment the only triumph obtained through late occasion within these walls, and a comparison inlong years of continental disaster has been achieved stituted between their conduct, and that of noble lords by an Irish general; it is true he is not a Catholic; had on this side of the house. he been so, we should have been deprived of his exertions; but I presume no one will assert that his religion would have impaired his talents or diminished his patriotism, though in that case he must have conquered in the ranks, for he never could have commanded an army.

But while he is fighting the battles of the Catholics abroad, his noble brother has this night advocated their cause, with an eloquence which I shall not depreciate by the humble tribute of my panegyric, whilst a third of his kindred, as unlike as unequal, has been combating against his catholic brethren in Dublin, with orcular letters, edicts, proclamations, arrests, and dispersions-all the vexatious implements of petty warfare that could be wielded by the mercenary guerillas of government, clad in the rusty armour of their obsolete statutes. Your lordships will, doubtless, divide new honours between the saviour of Portugal, and the dispenser of delegates. It is singular, indeed, to observe the difference between our foreign and domestic policy; if Catholic Spain, faithful Portugal, or the no less Catholic and faithful king of the one Sicily (of which, by the by, you have lately deprived him), stand in need of succour, away goes a fleet and an army, an ambassador and a subsidy, sometimes to fight pretty hardly, generally to negotiate very badly, and always to pay very dearly for our Popish allies. But let four millions of fellow-subjects pray for relief, who fight and pay and labour in your behalf, they must be treated as aliens, and although their «father's house has many mansions,» there is no resting place for them. Allow me to ask, are you not fighting for the emancipation of Ferdinand the seventh, who certainly is a fool, and consequently, in all probability, a bigot; and have you more regard for a foreign sovereign than your own fellow-subjects, who are not fools, for they know your interest better than you know your own; who are not bigots, for they return you good for evil; but who are in worse durance than the prison of an usurper, inasmuch as the fetters of the mind are more galling than those of the body.

Upon the consequences of your not acceding to the claims of the petitioners, I shall not expatiate; you know them, you will feel them, and your children's children when you are passed away. Adieu to that Union so called, as «Lucus a non lucendo» a Union from never uniting, which, in its first operation, gave a death-blow to the independence of Ireland, and in its last may be the cause of her eternal separation from this country. If it must be called a Union, it is the union of the shark with his prey; the spoiler swallows his victim, and thus they become one and indiviThus has Great Britain swallowed up the parliament, the constitution, the independence of Ireland, and refuses to disgorge even a single privilege, although for the relief of her swollen and distempered body politic.



And now, my lords, before I sit down, will his ma

What portion of popularity may have fallen to the share of my noble friends (if such I may presume to call them), I shall not pretend to ascertain; but that of his majesty's ministers it were vain to deny. It is, to be sure, a little like the wind, «no one knows whence it cometh or whither it goeth,» but they feel it, they enjoy it, they boast of it. Indeed, modest and unostentatious as they are, to what part of the kingdom even the most remote, can they flee to avoid the triumph which pursues them? If they plunge into the midland counties, there they will be greeted by the manufacturers, with spurned petitions in their hands, and those halters round their necks recently voted in their behalf, imploring blessings on the heads of those who so simply, yet ingeniously contrived to remove them from their miseries in this to a better world. If they journey on to Scotland, from Glasgow to Johnny Groat's, every where will they receive similar marks of approbation. If they take a trip from Portpatrick to Donaghadee, there will they rush at once into the embraces of four Catholic millions, to whom their vote of this night is about to endear them for ever. they return to the metropolis, if they can pass under Temple Bar without unpleasant sensations at the sight of the greedy niches over that ominous gateway, they cannot escape the acclamations of the livery, and the more tremulous, but not less sincere, applause, the blessings «not loud but deep» of bankrupt merchants and doubting stock-holders. If they look to the army, what wreaths, not of laurel, but of night-shade, are preparing for the heroes of Walcheren. It is true there are few living deponents left to testify to their merits on that occasion; but a «< cloud of witnesses» are gone above from that gallant army which they so generously and piously dispatched, to recruit the « noble army of martyrs.>>



What if, in the course of this triumphal career in which they will gather as many pebbles as Caligula's army did on a similar triumph, the prototype of their own), they do not perceive any of those memorials which a grateful people erect in honour of their benefactors; what although even a sign-post will condescend to depose the Saracen's head in favour of the likeness of the conquerors of Walcheren, they will not want a picture who can always have a caricature; or regret the omis sion of a statue who will so often see themselves exalted in effigy. But their popularity is not limited to the narrow bounds of an island; there are other countries where their measures, and above all, their conduct to the Catholics, must render them pre-eminently popular. If they are beloved here, in France they must be adored. There is no measure more repugnant to the designs and feelings of Bonaparte than Catholic emancipation; no line of conduct more propitious to his projects, than that which has been pursued, is pursuing, and, I fear, will be pursued, towards Ireland. What is England

without Ireland, and what is Ireland without the Catholics? It is on the basis of your tyranny Napoleon

hopes to build his own. So grateful must oppression of the Catholics be to his mind, that doubtless (as he has lately permitted some renewal of intercourse) the next cartel will convey to this country cargoes of Sèvreschina and blue ribands (things in great request, and of equal value at this moment), blue ribands of the legion of honour for Dr Duigenan and his ministerial disciples. Such is that well-earned popularity, the result of those extraordinary expeditions, so expensive to ourselves, and so useless to our allies; of those singular inquiries, so exculpatory to the accused, and so dissatisfactory to the people; of those paradoxical victories, so honourable, as we are told, to the British name, and so destructive to the best interests of the British nation: above all, such is the reward of a conduct pursued by ministers towards the Catholics.

I have to apologise to the House, who will, I trust, pardon one, not often in the habit of intruding upon their indulgence, for so long attempting to engage their attention. My most decided opinion is, as my vote will be, in favour of the motion.


equally mindful of the deference to be paid to this
House. The petitioner states, amongst other mailer
of equal, if not greater importance, to all who are,
British in their feelings, as well as blood and birth,,
that on the 21st January, 1813, at Huddersfield, bin-
self and six other persons, who, on hearing of his ar-
rival, had waited on him merely as a testimony of re-
spect, were seized by a military and civil force,
kept in close custody for several hours, subjected to gross
and abusive insinuation from the commanding officer,
relative to the character of the petitioner; that he the
petitioner) was finally carried before a magistrate : and
not released till an examination of his papers proved
that there was not only no just, but not even statute,
ble charge against him; and that, notwithstanding the
promise and order from the presiding magistrates of a
copy of the warrant against your petitioner, it was af
terwards withheld on divers pretexts, and has never
until this hour been granted. The names and condi
tion of the parties will be found in the petition. To
the other topics touched upon in the petition, I shai
not now advert, from a wish not to encroach upon the
time of the House; but I do most sincerely call the at-

DEBATE ON MAJOR CARTWRIGHT'S PETITION. tention of your Lordships to its general contents—its!

JUNE 1, 1813.

LORD BYRON rose and said:

in the cause of the parliament and people that the rights of this venerable freeman have been violated, and it is, in my opinion, the highest mark of respect that could be paid to the House, that to your justice rather than by appeal to any inferior court, he now commits himself. Whatever may be the fate of his r monstrance, it is some satisfaction to me, though mised with regret for the occasion, that I have this opportunity of publicly stating the obstruction to which the ' subject is liable, in the prosecution of the most lawful and imperious of his duties, the obtaining by petition reform in parliament. I have shortly stated his com

Your lordships will, I hope, adopt some measure fuliv to protect and redress him, and not him alone, but the whole body of the people insulted and aggrieved in as person, by the interposition of an abused civil, and unlawful military force between them and their right of petition to their own representatives.

MY LORDS, the Petition which I now hold for the purpose of presenting to the House, is one which I humbly conceive requires the particular attention of your lordships, inasmuch as, though signed but by a single individual, it contains statements which (if not disproved) demand most serious investigation. The grievance of which the petitioner complains, is neither selfish nor imaginary. It is not his own only, for it has been, and is still felt by numbers. No one with-plaint; the petitioner has more fully expressed it out these walls, nor indeed within, but may to-morrow be made liable to the same insult and obstruction, in the discharge of an imperious duty for the restoration of the true constitution of these realms by petitioning for reform in parliament. The petitioner, my Lords, is a man whose long life has been spent in one unceasing struggle for the liberty of the subject, against that undue influence His lordship then presented the petition from Ma which has increased, is increasing, and ought to bejor Cartwright, which was read, complaining of the diminished; and whatever difference of opinion may exist as to his political tenets, few will be fouud to question the integrity of his intentions. Even now oppressed with years, and not exempt from the infirmities attendant on his age, but still unimpaired in talent, and unshaken in spirit—« frangas non flectes»— he has received many a wound in the combat against corruption; and the new grievance, the fresh insult of which he complains, may inflict another scar, but no dishonour. The petition is signed by John Cartwright, and it was in behalf of the people and parliament, in the lawful pursuit of that reform in the representation which is the best service to be rendered both to parliament and people, that he encountered the wanton outrage which forms the subject matter of his petition to your lordships. It is couched in firm, yet respectful language in the language of a man, not regardless of what is due to himself, but at the same time, I trust,

circumstances at Huddersfield, and of interruptions given to the right of petitioning, in several places in the northern parts of the kingdom, and which his lordship moved should be laid on the table.

Several Lords having spoken on the question,

LORD BYRON replied, that he had, from motives of duty, presented this petition to their lordships' can sideration. The noble Earl had contended that it was not a petition but a speech; and that, as it containeri · no prayer, it should not be received. What was the necessity of a prayer? If that word were to be used in its proper sense, their lordships could not expect that any man should pray to others. He had only to sav that the petition, though in some parts expressed strongly ! perhaps, did not contain any improper mode of iddress, but was couched in respectful language towards their lordships; he should therefore trust their lordships would allow the petition to be received.

Don Juan.

Difficile est proprie communia dicere..

HOR. Epist. ad Pison.

Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more
Cakes and Ale-Yes, by St Anne; and Ginger shall be bot i' the
mouth, too!-Twelfth Night; or What you Will..-SHAKSPEARE.

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I WANT a hero: an uncommon want,

When every year and month sends forth a new one, Till, after cloying the gazettes with cant,

The age discovers he is not the true one;

Of such as these I should not care to vaunt,

I'll therefore take our ancient friend Don Juan;
We all have seen him in the pantomime
Sent to the devil, somewhat ere his time.


Vernon, the butcher Cumberland, Wolfe, Hawke, Prince Ferdinand, Granby, Burgoyne, Keppel, Howe, Evil and good, have had their tithe of talk,

And fill'd their sign-posts then, like Wellesley now; Each in their turn like Banquo's monarchs stalk, Followers of fame, « nine farrow» of that sow: France, too, had Buonaparté and Dumourier, Recorded in the Moniteur and Courier.


Barnave, Brissot, Condorcet, Mirabeau,

Petion, Clootz, Danton, Marat, La Fayette, Were French, and famous people, as we know; And there were others, scarce forgotten yet, Joubert, Hoche, Marceau, Lannes, Dessaix, Moreau, With many of the military set,

Exceedingly remarkable at times,

But not at all adapted to my rhymes.


Nelson was once Britannia's god of war,

And still should be so, but the tide is turn'd; There's no more to be said of Trafalgar, 'Tis with our hero quietly inurn'd; Because the army's grown more popular,

At which the naval people are concern'd: Besides, the prince is all for the land-service, Forgetting Duncan, Nelson, Howe, and Jervis,


Brave men were living before Agamemnon,' And since exceeding valorous and sage,


Most epic poets plunge in « medias res»

(Horace makes this the heroic turnpike road), And then your hero tells, whene'er you please, What went before-by way of episode,

While seated after dinner at his ease,

Beside his mistress in some soft abode,

Palace or garden, paradise, or cavern,
Which serves the happy couple for a tavern.

That is the usual method, but not mine-
My way is to begin with the beginning;
The regularity of my design

Forbids all wandering as the worst of sinning, And therefore I shall open with a line

(Although it cost me half an hour in spinning) Narrating somewhat of Don Juan's father, And also of his mother, if you'd rather.


In Seville was he born, a pleasant city,

Famous for oranges and women-he
Who has not seen it will be much to pity,
So says the proverb-and I quite agree;
Of all the Spanish towns is none more pretty,
Cadiz perhaps but that you soon may see:-
Don Juan's parents lived beside the river,
A noble stream, and call'd the Guadalquivir.

His father's name was Jóse-Don, of course,
A true Hidalgo, free from every stain
Of Moor or Hebrew blood, he traced his source
Through the most Gothic gentlemen of Spain;
A better cavalier ne'er mounted horse,

Or being mounted, e'er got down again,
Than Jose, who begot our hero, who
Begot-but that 's to come-Well, to renew :


His mother was a learned lady, famed

For every branch of every science knownIn every christian language ever named,

With virtues equall'd by her wit alone, She made the cleverest people quite ashamed, And even the good with inward envy groan, Finding themselves so very much exceeded In their own way by all the things that she did. XI.

Her memory was a mine: she knew by heart

All Calderon and greater part of Lopé,

A good deal like him too, though quite the same none; So that if any actor miss'd is part

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Her favourite science was the mathematical,
Her noblest virtue was her magnanimity,
Her wit (she sometimes tried at wit) was Attic all,
Her serious sayings darken'd to sublimity;

In short, in all things she was fairly what I call
A prodigy-her morning dress was dimity,
Her evening silk, or, in the summer, muslin,
And other stuffs, with which I won't stay puzzling.

She knew the Latin-that is, « the Lord's prayer,>>
And Greek-the alphabet I'm nearly sure;
She read some French romances here and there,
Although her mode of speaking was not pure;
For native Spanish she had no great care,

At least her conversation was obscure;
Her thoughts were theorems, her words a problem,
As if she deem'd that mystery would ennoble 'em.


She liked the English and the Hebrew tongue,
And said there was analogy between 'em;

She proved it somehow out of sacred song,

But I must leave the proofs to those who've seen 'em; But this I heard her say, and can't be wrong,

And all may think which way their judgments lean 'em, a T is strange-the Hebrew noun which means 'I am,' The English always use to govern d—n.»



In short, she was a walking calculation,

Miss Edgeworth's novels stepping from their covers,

Or Mrs Trimmer's books on education,

Or « Colebs' Wife» set out in quest of lovers,

Morality's prim personification,

In which not Envy's self a flaw discovers;
To others' share let «female errors fall,»
For she had not even one-the worst of all.


Oh! she was perfect past all parallel—

Of any modern female saint's comparison; So far above the cunning powers of hell,

Her guardian angel had given up his garrison;

Even her minutest motions went as well

As those of the best time-piece made by Harrison : In virtues nothing earthly could surpass her, Save thine « incomparable oil,»> Macassar !2


Perfect she was, but as perfection is

Insipid in this naughty world of ours, Where our first parents never learn'd to kiss

Till they were exiled from their earlier bowers, Where all was peace, and innocence, and bliss

(I wonder how they got through the twelve hours), Don Jose, like a lineal son of Eve,

Went plucking various fruit without her leave.


He was a mortal of the careless kind,

With no great love for learning, or the learn ́d, Who chose to go where'er he had a mind, And never dream'd his lady was concern'd; The world, as usual, wickedly inclined

To see a kingdom or a house o'erturn'd, Whisper'd he had a mistress, some said two, But for domestic quarrels one will do.


Now Donna Inez had with all her merit,

A great opinion of her own good qualities; Neglect, indeed, requires a saint to bear it,

And such, indeed, she was in her moralities; But then she had a devil of a spirit,

And sometimes mix'd up fancies with realities, And let few opportunities escape

Of getting her liege lord into a scrape.


This was an easy matter with a man

Oft in the wrong, and never on his guard; And even the wisest, do the best they can,

Have moments, hours, and days, so unprepared, That you might « brain them with their lady's fan,» And sometimes ladies hit exceeding hard, And fans turn into falchions in fair hands, And why and wherefore no one understands. XXII.

T is pity learned virgins ever wed

With persons of no sort of education,
Or gentlemen, who, though well-born and bred,
Grow tired of scientific conversation:

I don't choose to say much upon this head,
I'm a plain man and in a single station,
But-Oh! ye lords of ladies intellectual,

Inform us truly, have they not hen-peck'd you ai!


Don Jose and his lady quarrell'd-why,

Not any of the many could divine,

Though several thousand people chose to try.

T was surely no concern of theirs nor mine:

I loathe that low vice curiosity;

But if there's any thing in which I shine,
T is in arranging all my friends' affairs,
Not having, of my own, domestic cares.


And so I interfered, and with the best

Intentions, but their treatment was not kind;

I think the foolish people were possess'd,
For neither of them could I ever find,
Although their porter afterwards confess d—
But that's no matter, and the worst's behind,
For little Juan o'er me threw, down stairs,

A pail of housemaid's water unawares.


A little curly-headed, good-for-nothing,
And mischief-making monkey from his birth;
His parents ne'er agreed except in doting
Upon the most unquiet imp on earth;
Instead of quarrelling, had they been but both in

Their senses, they'd have sent young master forth
To school, or had him soundly whipp'd at home,
To teach him manners for the time to come.

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Don Jose and the Donna Inez led

For sometime an unhappy sort of life, Wishing each other, not divorced, but dead;' They lived respectably as man and wife, Their conduct was exceedingly well-bred,

And gave no outward signs of inward strife,
Until at length the smother'd fire broke out,
And put the business past all kind of doubt.

For Inez call'd some druggists and physicians,
And tried to prove her loving lord was mad,
But as he had some lucid intermissions,

She next decided he was only bad;
Yet when they ask'd her for her depositions,
No sort of explanation could be had,
Save that her duty both to man and God
Required this conduct-which seem'd very odd.


She kept a journal, where his faults were noted,
And open'd certain trunks of books and letters,
All which might, if occasion served, be quoted;
And then she had all Seville for abettors,
Besides her good old grandmother (who doted);
The hearers of her case became repeaters,
Then advocates, inquisitors, and judges,
Some for amusement, others for old grudges.

And then this best and meekest woman bore
With such serenity her husband's woes,
Just as the Spartan ladies did of yore,

Who saw their spouses kill'd, and nobly chose
Never to say a word about them more-

Calmly she heard each calumny that rose, And saw his agonies with such sublimity,

That all the world exclaim'd, « What magnanimity!»



He died and most unluckily, because,
According to all hints I could collect
From counsel learned in those kinds of laws
(Although their talk 's obscure and circumspect),
His death contrived to spoil a charming cause;
A thousand pities also with respect
To public feeling, which on this occasion
Was manifested in a great sensation.


But ah! he died! and buried with him lay
The public feeling and the lawyer's fees:
His house was sold, his servants sent away,
A Jew took one of his two mistresses,
A priest the other—at least so they say:
I ask'd the doctors after his disease,
He died of the slow fever called the tertian,
And left his widow to her own aversion.


Yet Jóse was an honourable man,

That I must say, who knew him very well;
Therefore his frailties I'll no further scan,
Indeed there were not many more to tell;
And if his passions now and then outran
Discretion, and were not so peaceable

As Numa's (who was also named Pompilius),
He had been ill brought up, and was born bilious.

Whate'er might be his worthlessness or worth,
Poor fellow! he had many things to wound him,
Let's own, since it can do no good on earth;

It was a trying moment that which found him
Standing alone beside his desolate hearth,

Where all his household gods lay shiver'd round him;
No choice was left his feelings or his pride
Save death or Doctors' Commons-so he died.


No doubt, this patience, when the world is damning us, Dying intestate, Juan was sole heir

Is philosophic in our former friends;
'Tis also pleasant to be deem'd magnanimous,

The more so in obtaining our own ends;
And what the lawyers call a «malus animus,»
Conduct like this by no means comprehends:
Revenge in person 's certainly no virtue,
But then 't is not my fault if others hurt you.

And if our quarrels should rip up old stories,
And help them with a lie or two additional,
Im not to blame, as you well know, no more is
Any one else they were become traditional;
Besides, their resurrection aids our glories

By contrast, which is what we just were wishing all:

· And science profits by this resurrection→→→
Dead scandals form good subjects for dissection.


Their friends had tried at reconciliation,
Then their relations, who made matters worse
(T were hard to tell upon a like occasion

To whom it may be best to have recourse-
I can't say much for friend or yet relation):
The lawyers did their utmost for divorce,
But scarce a fee was paid on either side
Before, unluckily, Don Jose died.

To a chancery suit, and messuages, and lands,
Which, with a long minority and care,

Promised to turn out well in proper hands:
Inez became sole guardian, which was fair,
And answer'd but to nature's just demands;
An only son left with an only mother
Is brought up much more wisely than another.

Sagest of women, even of widows, she

Resolved that Juan should be quite a paragon, And worthy of the noblest pedigree

(His sire was of Castile, his dam from Arragon) : Then for accomplishments of chivalry,

In case our lord the king should go to war again,
He learn'd the arts of riding, fencing, gunnery,
And how to scale a fortress-or a nunnery.


But that which Donna Inez most desired,
And saw into herself each day before all
The learned tutors whom for him she hired,
Was that his breeding should be strictly moral;
Much into all his studies she inquired,

And so they were submitted first to her, all,
Arts, sciences, no branch was made a mystery
To Juan's eyes, excepting natural history.

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