Ephesns and Sardis, from which I endeavoured to dissuade him, in his present state of indisposition – but in vain: there appeared to be an oppression on his mind, and a solemnity in his manner, which ill corresponded with his eagerness to proceed on what I regarded as a mere party of pleasure, little suited to a valetudinarian; but I opposed him no longer and in a few days we set off together, accompanied only by a serrugee and a single janizary.

We had passed half-way towards the remains of Ephesus, leaving behind us the more fertile environs of Smyrna, and were entering upon that wild and tenantless track through the marches and defiles which lead to the few huts yet lingering over the broken columns of Diana —the roofless walls of expelled Christianity, and the still more recent but complete desolation of abandoned mosques - when the sudden and rapid illness of my companion obliged us to halt at a Turkish cemetery, the turbaned tombstones of which were the sole indication that human life had ever been a sojourner in this wilderness. The only caravanserai we had seen was left some hours behind us; not a vestige of a town, or even cottage, was within sight or hope, and this "city of the dead" appeared to be the sole refuge for my unfortunate friend, who seemed on the verge of becoming the last of its inhabitants.

To this question I received no answer. In the mean time, Suleiman returned with the water, leaving the serrugee and the horses at the fountain. The quenching of his thirst had the appearance of reviving him for a moment; I conceived hopes of his being able to proceed, or at least to return, and I urged the attempt. He was silent-and appeared to be collecting his spirits for an effort to speak. He began.

"This is the end of my journey, and of my life--I came here to die: but I have a request to make, a command -- for such my last words must be.-You will observe it?"

“Most certainly; but have better hopes.” "I have no hopes, nor wishes, but thisconceal my death from every human being." "I hope there will be no occasion; that you will recover, and—”

"Peace! it must be so: promise this." "I do."

"Swear it by all that"-He here dictated an oath of great solemnity.

"There is no occasion for this- I will observe your request; - and to doubt me is—” "It cannot be helped,-you must swear." I took the oath: it appeared to relieve him. He removed a seal-ring from his finger, on which were some Arabic characters, and presented it to me. He proceeded—

"On the ninth day of the month, at noon precisely (what month you please, but this must be the day), you must fling this ring into the salt springs which run into the Bay of Eleusis: the day after, at the same hour, you must repair to the ruins of the temple of Ceres, and wait one hour." "Why?"

"You will see."

"The ninth day of the month, you say?”

"The ninth."

changed, and he paused. As he sate, evidently becoming more feeble, a stork, with a snake in her beak, perched upon a tombstone near us, and, without devouring her prey, appeared to be stedfastly regarding us. I know not what impelled me to drive it away, but the attempt was useless; she made a few circles in the air, and returned exactly to the same spot. Darvell pointed to it, and smiled: he spoke-I know not whether to himself or to me-but the words were only, ""Tis well!"

In this situation, I looked round for a place where he might most conveniently repose: contrary to the usual aspect of Mahometan burial-grounds, the cypresses were in this few in number, and these thinly scattered over its extent: the tombstones were mostly fallen, and worn with age!– upon one of the most considerable of these, and beneath one of the most spreading trees, As I observed that the present was the Darvell supported himself, in a half-reclin-ninth day of the month, his countenance ing posture, with great difficulty. He asked for water. I had some doubts of our being able to find any, and prepared to go in search of it with hesitating despondencybut he desired me to remain; and, turning to Suleiman, our janizary, who stood by us smoking with great tranquillity, he said, "Suleiman, verbana su" (i. e. bring some water), and went on describing the spot where it was to be found with great minuteness, at a small well for camels, a few hundred yards to the right: the janizari obeyed. I said to Darvell,“How did you know this?" He replied, "From our situation; you must perceive that this place was once inhabited, and could not have been so without springs: I have also been here before." "You have been here before!-How came you never to mention this to me? and what could you be doing in a place where no one would remain a moment longer than they could help it?"

"What is well? what do you mean?”

"No matter: you must bury me here this evening, and exactly where that bird is now perched. You know the rest of my injunctions."

He then proceeded to give me several directions as to the manner in which his death might be best concealed. After these were finished, he exclaimed, "You perceive that bird?"

"Certainly."

"And the serpent writhing in her beak?" "Doubtless: there is nothing uncommon in it; it is her natural prey. But it is odd that she does not devour it."

He smiled in a ghastly manner, and said, faintly, "It is not yet time!" As he spoke, the stork flew away. My eyes followed it for a moment, it could hardly be longer than ten might be counted. I felt Darvell's weight, as it were, increase upon my shoulder, and, turning to look upon his face, perceived that he was dead!

I was shocked with the sudden certainty which could not be mistaken- his countenance in a few minutes became nearly black. I should have attributed so rapid a change to poison, had I not been aware

that he had no opportunity of receiving it
unperceived. The day was declining, the
body was rapidly altering, and nothing re-
mained but to fulfil his request. With the
aid of Suleiman's ataghan and my own
sabre, we scooped a shallow grave upon
the spot which Darvell had indicated: the
earth easily gave way, having already re-
ceived some Mahometan tenant.
We dug
as deeply as the time permitted us, and
throwing the dry earth upon all that re-
mained of the singular being so lately de-
parted, we cut a few sods of greener turf
from the less withered soil around us, and
laid them upon his sepulchre.
Between astonishment and grief, I was
tearless

LETTER

ΤΟ

J. MURRAY, ESQ. ON THE REV. W. L. BOWLES' STRICTURES

RAVENNA, February 7th, 1821. | Italy;-I do "remember the circumstance,”

DEAR SIR,

--and have no reluctance to relate it (since called upon so to do) as correctly as the In the different pamphlets which you distance of time and the impression of inhave had the goodness to send me, on the tervening events will permit me. In the Pope and Bowles controversy, I perceive year 1812, more than three years after the that my name is occasionally introduced publication of "English Bards and Scotch by both parties. Mr. Bowles refers more Reviewers," I had the honour of meeting than once to what he is pleased to consider Mr. Bowles in the house of our venerable “a remarkable circumstance,” not only in host the author of “Human Life,” the last his letter to Mr. Campbell, but in his Argonaut of classic English poetry, and the reply to the Quarterly. The Quarterly Nestor of our inferior race of living poets. also and Mr. Gilchrist have conferred on Mr. Bowlescalls this "soon after" the pubme the dangerous honour of a quotation; lication; but to me three years appear and Mr. Bowles indirectly makes a kind of a considerable segment of the immortality appeal to me personally, by saying, "Lord of a modern poem. I recollect nothing of Byron, if he remembers the circumstance, "the rest of the company going into another will witness-(witness IN ITALIC, an omin-room”—nor, though I well remember the ous character for a testimony at present.) topography of our host's elegant and clas I shall not avail myself of a "non mi sically furnished mansion, could I swear ricordo" even after so long a residence into the very room where the conversation

persons with whom I was subsequently
acquainted, whose names had occurred in
that publication, were made my acquaint-
ances at their own desire, or through the
unsought intervention of others.
I never,
to the best of my knowledge, sought a
personal introduction to any. Some of
them to this day I know only by corres-
pondence; and with one of those it was
begun by myself, in consequence, however,
of a polite verbal communication from a
third person.

occurred, though the "taking down the and with some on terms of intimacy;" and poem seems to fix it in the library. Had that he knew "one family in particular to it been "taken up" it would probably have whom its suppression would give pleasure." been in the drawing-room. I presume also I did not hesitate one moment, it was canthat the "remarkable circumstance" took celled instantly; and it is no fault of mine place after dinner, as I conceive that nei- that it has ever been republished. When ther Mr. Bowles's politeness nor appetite I left England, in April, 1816, with no I would have allowed him to detain "the very violent intentions of troubling that rest of the company" standing round their country again, and amidst scenes of various chairs in the "other room" while we were kinds to distract my attention-almost my discussing "the Woods of Madeira" instead last act, I believe, was to sign a power of circulating its vintage. Of Mr. Bowles's of attorney, to yourself, to prevent or sup"good humour" I have a full and not un-press any attempts (of which several had grateful recollection; as also of his gentle- been made in Ireland) at a republication. manly manners and agreeable conversa- It is proper that I should state, that the tion. I speak of the whole, and not of particulars; for whether he did or did not use the precise words printed in the pamphlet, I cannot say, nor could he with accuracy. Of "the tone of seriousness" I certainly recollect nothing: on the contrary, I thought Mr. Bowles rather disposed to treat the subject lightly; for he said (I have no objection to be contradicted if incorrect), that some of his good-natured friends had come to him and exclaimed, "Eh! Bowles! how came you to make the Woods of Madeira tremble?" and that he had been at some pains and pulling down of the poem to convince them that he had never made "the Woods” do any thing of the kind. He was right, and I was wrong, and have been wrong still up to this acknowledgment; for I ought to have looked twice before I wrote that which involved an inaccuracy capable of giving pain. The fact was, that although I had certainly before read "the Spirit of Discovery," I took the quotation from the Review. But the mistake was mine, and not the Review's, which quoted the passage correctly enough, I believe. I blundered - God knows how -into attributing the tremors of the lovers to the "Woods of Madeira," by which they were surrounded. And I hereby do fully and freely declare and asseverate, that the Woods did not tremble to a kiss, and that the lovers did. I quote from memory—

A kiss

Stole on the list ning silence,They (the lovers) trembled,And if I had been aware that this declaration would have been in the smallest degree satisfactory to Mr. Bowles, I should not have waited nine years to make it, notwithstanding that "English Bards and Scotch Reviewers" had been suppressed some time previously to my meeting him at Mr. Rogers's. Our worthy host might indeed have told him as much, as it was at his representation that I suppressed it. A new edition of that lampoon was preparing for the press, when Mr. Rogers represented to me, that "I was now acquainted with many of the persons mentioned in it,

I see no "no

I have dwelt for an instant on these circumstances, because it has sometimes been made a subject of bitter reproach to me to have endeavoured to suppress that satire. I never shrunk, as those who know me know, from any personal consequences which could be attached to its publication. Of its subsequent suppression, as I possessed the copyright, I was the best judge and the sole master. The circumstances which occasioned the suppression I have now stated; of the motives, each must judge according to his candour or malignity. Mr. Bowles does me the honour to talk of "noble mind," and "generous magnanimity;" and all this because "the circumstance would have been explained had not the book been suppressed." bility of mind" in an act of simple justice; and I hate the word "magnanimity,” because I have sometimes seen it applied to the grossest of impostors by the greatest of fools; but I would have "explained the circumstance," notwithstanding "the suppression of the book," if Mr. Bowles had expressed any desire that I should. As the "gallant Galbraith" says to "Baillie Jarvie," "Well, the devil take the mistake and all that occasioned it." I have had as great and greater mistakes made about me personally and poetically, once a month for these last ten years, and never cared very much about correcting one other, at least after the first eight and forty hours had gone over them.

or the

I must now, however, say a word or two about Pope, of whom you have my opinion more at large in the unpublished

letter on or to (for I forget which) the editor of "Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine; " - and here I doubt that Mr. Bowles will not approve of my sentiments.

Although I regret having published "English Bards and Scotch Reviewers," the part which I regret the least is that which regards Mr. Bowles with reference to Pope. Whilst I was writing that publication, in 1807 and 1808, Mr. Hobhouse was desirous that I should express our mutual opinion of Pope, and of Mr. Bowles's edition of his works. As I had completed my outline, and felt lazy, I requested that he would do so. He did it. His fourteen lines on Bowles's Pope are in the first edition of "English Bards and Scotch Reviewers; and are quite as severe and much more poetical than my own in the second. On reprinting the work, as I put my name to it, I omitted Mr. Hobhouse's lines, and replaced them with my own, by which the work gained less than Mr. Bowles. I have stated this in the preface to the second edition. It is many years since I have read that poem; but the Quarterly Review, Mr. Octavius Gilchrist, and Mr. Bowles himself, have been so obliging as to refresh my memory, and that of the public. I am grieved to say, that in reading over those lines, I repent of their having so far fallen short of what I meant to express upon the subject of Bowles's edition of Pope's Works. Mr. Bowles says, that "Lord Byron knows he does not deserve this character." I know no such thing. I have met Mr. Bowles occasionally, in the best society in London; he appeared to me an amiable, well informed, and extremely able man. I desire nothing better than to dine in company with such a mannered man every day in the week: but of "his character" I know nothing personally; I can only speak to his manners, and these have my warmest approbation. But I never judge from manners, for I once had my pocket picked by the civilest gentleman I ever met with; and one of the mildest persons I ever saw was Ali Pacha. Of Mr. Bowles's "character" I will not do him the injustice to judge from the edition of Pope, if he prepared it heedlessly; nor the justice, should it be otherwise, because I would neither become a literary executioner, nor a personal one. Mr. Bowles the individual, and Mr. Bowles the editor, appear the two most opposite things imaginable.

"And he himself one--antithesis."

I won't say "vile," because it is harsh; nor “mistaken,” because it has two syllables too many: but every one must fill up the blank as he pleases.

What I saw of Mr. Bowles increased my surprise and regret that he should ever

have lent his talents to such a task. If
he had been a fool, there would have been
some excuse for him; if he had been a
needy or a bad man, his conduct would
have been intelligible: but he is the oppo-
site of all these; and thinking and feeling
as I do of Pope, to me the whole thing is
unaccountable. However, I must call things
by their right names. I cannot call his
edition of Pope a “candid” work; and I
still think that there is an affectation of
that quality not only in those volumes, bat
in the pamphlets lately published.

"Why yet he doth deny his prisoners."
Mr. Bowles says, that "he has seen passa-
ges in his letters to Martha Blount which
were never published by me, and I hope
never will be by others; which are se
gross as to imply the grossest licentious-
ness." Is this fair play? It may, or it may
not be that such passages exist; and that
Pope, who was not a monk, although a
catholic, may have occasionally sinned in
word and in deed with woman in his youth;
but is this a sufficient ground for such a
sweeping denunciation? Where is the un-
married Englishman of a certain rank of
life, who (provided he has not taken or-
ders) has not to reproach himself between
the ages of sixteen and thirty with far
more licentiousness than has ever yet been
traced to Pope? Pope lived in the public
eye from his youth upwards; he had all
the dunces of his own time for his enemies,
and, I am sorry to say, some, who have
not the apology of dulness for detraction,
since his death; and yet to what do all their
accumulated hints and charges amount?—
to an equivocal liaison with Martha Blount,
which might arise as much from his infirm-
ities as from his passions; to a hopeless
flirtation with Lady Mary W. Montagu;
to a story of Cibber's; and to two or three
coarse passages in his works. Who could
come forth clearer from an invidious in-
quest on a life of fifty-six years? Why
are we to be officiously reminded of snch
passages in his letters, provided that they
exist. Is Mr. Bowles aware to what such
rummaging among “letters” and “stories"
might lead? I have myself seen a collec-
tion of letters of another eminent, nay,
pre-eminent, deceased poet, so abominably
gross, and elaborately coarse, that I do
not believe that they could be paralleled
in our language. What is more strange,
is, that some of these are couched as
postscripts to his serious and sentimental
letters, to which are tacked either a piece
of prose, or some verses, of the most hy-
perbolical indecency. He himself says,
that if "obscenity (using a much coarser
word) be the sin against the Holy Ghost,
he most certainly cannot be saved.” These

14

b

e

are."

letters are in existence, and have been seen | cant moral; but always cant, multiplied by many besides myself; but would his through all the varieties of life. It is the editor have been “candid ” in even alluding fashion, and while it lasts will be too to them? Nothing would have even pro- powerful for those who can only exist by voked me, an indifferent spectator, to allude taking the tone of the time. I say cant, to them, but this further attempt at the because it is a thing of words, without depreciation of Pope. the smallest influence upon human actions; What should we say to an editor of the English being no wiser, no better, and Addison, who cited the following passage much poorer, and more divided amongst from Walpole's letters to George Montagu? themselves, as well as far less moral, than "Dr. Young has published a new book. they were before the prevalence of this Mr. Addison sent for the young Earl of verbal decorum. This hysterical horror Warwick, as he was dying, to show him of poor Pope's not very well ascertained in what peace a Christian could die; un- and never fully proved amours (for even luckily he died of brandy: nothing makes Cibber owns that he prevented the somea Christian die in peace like being maud- what perilous adventure in which Pope lin! but don't say this in Gath where you was embarking) sounds very virtuous in Suppose the editor introduced it a controversial pamphlet; but all men of with this preface: "One circumstance is the world who know what life is, or at mentioned by Horace Walpole, which if least what it was to them in their youth, true was indeed flagitious. Walpole in- must laugh at such a ludicrous foundation forms Montagu that Addison sent for the of the charge of "a libertine sort of love;" young Earl of Warwick, when dying, to while the more serious will look upon show him in what peace a Christian could those who bring forward such charges die; but unluckily he died drunk." Now, upon an insulated fact, as fanatics or hyalthough there might occur on the subse-pocrites, perhaps both. The two are somequent, or on the same page, a faint show times compounded in a happy mixture. of disbelief, seasoned with the expression Mr. Octavius Gilchrist speaks rather of "the same candour" (the same exactly irreverently of a "second tumbler of hot as throughout the book), I should say white-wine-negus." What does he mean? that this editor was either foolish or false to his trust; such a story ought not to have been admitted, except for one brief mark of crushing indignation, unless it were completely proved. Why the words "if true?" that “if” is not a peace-maker. Why talk of "Cibber's testimony" to his licentiousness; to what does this amount? that Pope when very young was once decoyed by some nobleman and the player to a house of carnal recreation. Mr. Bowles was not always a clergyman; and when he was a very young man, was he never seduced into as much? If I were in the humour for storytelling, and relating little anecdotes, I could tell a much better story of Mr. Bowles, than Cibber's, upon much better authority, viz. that of Mr. Bowles himself. It was not related by him in my presence, but in that of a third person, whom Mr. Bowles, names oftener than once in the course of his replies. This gentleman related it to me as a humourous and witty anecdote; and so it was, whatever its other characteristics might be. But should I, for a youthful frolic, brand I now come to Mr. Bowles's "invariable Mr. Bowles with a "libertine sort of love," principles of poetry." These Mr. Bowles or with "licentiousness?" Is he the less and some of his correspondents pronounce now a pious or a good man, for not hav-"unanswerable;" and they are "unanswering always been a priest? No such thing; ed," at least by Campbell, who seems to I am willing to believe him a good man, have been astounded by the title. The almost as good a man as Pope, but no better. The truth is, that in these days the grand “primum mobile" of England is cant; cant political, cant poetical, cant religious,

Is there any harm in negus? or is it the worse for being hot? or does Mr. Bowles drink negus? I had a better opinion of him. I hoped that whatever wine he drank was neat; or at least, that like the ordinary in Jonathan Wild, “he preferred punch, the rather as there was nothing against it in Scripture." I should be sorry to believe that Mr. Bowles was fond of negus; it is such a "candid" liquor, so like a wishywashy compromise between the passion for wine and the propriety of water. But different writers have divers tastes. Judge Blackstone composed his "Commentaries" (he was a poet too in his youth) with a bottle of port before him. Addison's conversation was not good for much till he had taken a similar dose. Perhaps the prescription of these two great men was not inferior to the very different one of a soi-disant poet of this day, who after wandering amongst the hills, returns, goes to bed, and dictates his verses, being fed by a bystander with bread and butter during the operation.

sultan of the time being offered to ally himself to a king of France, because "he hated the word league;" which proves that the Padisha understood French. Mr.