I own it, I know it,
acknowledge
it--what
Can I say to you more?
Can I say to you more?
Byron
167), "frequently in society.
.
.
.
Some very
agreeable parties I can recollect, particularly one at Sir George
Beaumont's, where the amiable landlord had assembled some persons
distinguished for talent. Of these I need only mention the late Sir
Humphry Davy. . . . Mr. Richard Sharpe and Mr. Rogers were also present. "
Again, Miss Berry, in her _Journal_ (1866, in. 49) records, May 8, 1815,
that "Lord and Lady Byron persuaded me to go with them to Miss [Lydia]
White (_vide post_, p. 587). Never have I seen a more imposing
convocation of ladies arranged in a circle than when we entered . . . Lord
Byron brought me home. He stayed to supper. " If he did not affect "your
blue-bottles," he was on intimate terms with Madame de Stael, "the
_Begum_ of Literature," as Moore called her; with the Contessa
d'Albrizzi (the De Stael of Italy); with Mrs. Wilmot, the inspirer of
"She walks in beauty like the night;" with Mrs. Shelley; with Lady
Blessington. Moreover, to say nothing of his "mathematical wife," who
was as "blue as ether," the Countess Guiccioli could not only read and
"inwardly digest" _Corinna_ (see letter to Moore, January 2, 1820), but
knew the _Divina Commedia_ by heart, and was a critic as well as an
inspirer of her lover's poetry.
If it is difficult to assign a reason or occasion for the composition of
_The Blues_, it is a harder, perhaps an impossible, task to identify all
the _dramatis personae_. Botherby, Lady Bluemount, and Miss Diddle are,
obviously, Sotheby, Lady Beaumont, and Lydia White. Scamp the Lecturer
may be Hazlitt, who had incurred Byron's displeasure by commenting on
his various and varying estimates of Napoleon (see _Lectures on the
English Poets_, 1818, p. 304, and _Don Juan_, Canto 1. stanza ii. line
7, note to Buonaparte). Inkel seems to be meant for Byron himself, and
Tracy, a friend, _not_ a Lake poet, for Moore. Sir Richard and Lady
Bluebottle may possibly symbolize Lord and Lady Holland; and Miss Lilac
is, certainly, Miss Milbanke, the "Annabella" of Byron's courtship, not
the "moral Clytemnestra" of his marriage and separation.
_The Blues_ was published anonymously in the third number of the
_Liberal_, which appeared April 26, 1823. The "Eclogue" was not
attributed to Byron, and met with greater contempt than it deserved. In
the _Noctes Ambrosiance_ (Blackwood's _Edinburgh Magazine_, May, 1823,
vol. xiii. p. 607), the third number of the _Liberal_ is dismissed with
the remark, "The last Number contains not one _line_ of Byron's! Thank
God! he has seen his error, and kicked them out. " Brief but contemptuous
notices appeared in the _Literary Chronicle_, April 26, and the
_Literary Gazette_, May 3, 1823; while a short-lived periodical, named
the _Literary Register_ (May 3, quoted at length in _John Bull_, May 4,
1823), implies that the author (i. e. Leigh Hunt) would be better
qualified to "catch the manners" of Lisson Grove than of May Fair. It is
possible that this was the "last straw," and that the reception of _The
Blues_ hastened Byron's determination to part company with the
profitless and ill-omened _Liberal_.
THE BLUES:[609]
A LITERARY ECLOGUE.
ECLOGUE THE FIRST.
_London. --Before the Door of a Lecture Room_.
_Enter_ TRACY, _meeting_ INKEL.
_Ink_. You're too late.
_Tra_. Is it over?
_Ink_. Nor will be this hour.
But the benches are crammed, like a garden in flower.
With the pride of our belles, who have made it the fashion;
So, instead of "beaux arts," we may say "la _belle_ passion"
For learning, which lately has taken the lead in
The world, and set all the fine gentlemen reading.
_Tra_. I know it too well, and have worn out my patience
With studying to study your new publications.
There's Vamp, Scamp, and Mouthy, and Wordswords and Co. [610]
With their damnable----
_Ink_. Hold, my good friend, do you know 10
Whom you speak to?
_Tra_. Right well, boy, and so does "the Row:"[611]
You're an author--a poet--
_Ink_. And think you that I
Can stand tamely in silence, to hear you decry
The Muses?
_Tra_. Excuse me: I meant no offence
To the Nine; though the number who make some pretence
To their favours is such----but the subject to drop,
I am just piping hot from a publisher's shop,
(Next door to the pastry-cook's; so that when I
Cannot find the new volume I wanted to buy
On the bibliopole's shelves, it is only two paces, 20
As one finds every author in one of those places:)
Where I just had been skimming a charming critique,
So studded with wit, and so sprinkled with Greek!
Where your friend--you know who--has just got such a threshing,
That it is, as the phrase goes, extremely "_refreshing. _"[612]
What a beautiful word!
_Ink_. Very true; 'tis so soft
And so cooling--they use it a little too oft;
And the papers have got it at last--but no matter.
So they've cut up our friend then?
_Tra_. Not left him a tatter--
Not a rag of his present or past reputation, 30
Which they call a disgrace to the age, and the nation.
_Ink_. I'm sorry to hear this! for friendship, you know--
Our poor friend! --but I thought it would terminate so.
Our friendship is such, I'll read nothing to shock it.
You don't happen to have the Review in your pocket?
_Tra_. No; I left a round dozen of authors and others
(Very sorry, no doubt, since the cause is a brother's)
All scrambling and jostling, like so many imps,
And on fire with impatience to get the next glimpse.
_Ink_. Let us join them.
_Tra_. What, won't you return to the lecture? 40
_Ink_. Why the place is so crammed, there's not room for a spectre.
Besides, our friend Scamp is to-day so absurd--[613]
_Tra_. How can you know that till you hear him?
_Ink_. I heard
Quite enough; and, to tell you the truth, my retreat
Was from his vile nonsense, no less than the heat.
_Tra_. I have had no great loss then?
_Ink_. Loss! --such a palaver!
I'd inoculate sooner my wife with the slaver
Of a dog when gone rabid, than listen two hours
To the torrent of trash which around him he pours,
Pumped up with such effort, disgorged with such labour, 50
That----come--do not make me speak ill of one's neighbour.
_Tra_. _I_ make you!
_Ink_. Yes, you! I said nothing until
You compelled me, by speaking the truth----
_Tra_. _To speak ill? _
Is that your deduction?
_Ink_. When speaking of Scamp ill,
I certainly _follow, not set_ an example.
The fellow's a fool, an impostor, a zany.
_Tra_. And the crowd of to-day shows that one fool makes many.
But we two will be wise.
_Ink_. Pray, then, let us retire.
_Tra_. I would, but----
_Ink_. There must be attraction much higher
Than Scamp, or the Jew's harp he nicknames his lyre, 60
To call you to this hotbed.
_Tra_. I own it--'tis true--
A fair lady----
_Ink_. A spinster?
_Tra_. Miss Lilac.
_Ink_. The Blue!
_Tra_. The heiress! The angel!
_Ink_. The devil! why, man,
Pray get out of this hobble as fast as you can.
_You_ wed with Miss Lilac! 'twould be your perdition:
She's a poet, a chymist, a mathematician. [614]
_Tra_. I say she's an angel.
_Ink_. Say rather an angle.
If you and she marry, you'll certainly wrangle.
I say she's a Blue, man, as blue as the ether.
_Tra_. And is that any cause for not coming together? 70
_Ink_. Humph! I can't say I know any happy alliance
Which has lately sprung up from a wedlock with science.
She's so learned in all things, and fond of concerning
Herself in all matters connected with learning,
That----
_Tra_. What?
_Ink_. I perhaps may as well hold my tongue;
But there's five hundred people can tell you you're
wrong.
_Tra_. You forget Lady Lilac's as rich as a Jew.
_Ink_. Is it miss or the cash of mamma you pursue?
_Tra_. Why, Jack, I'll be frank with you--something of both.
The girl's a fine girl.
_Ink_. And you feel nothing loth 80
To her good lady-mother's reversion; and yet
Her life is as good as your own, I will bet.
_Tra_. Let her live, and as long as she likes; I demand
Nothing more than the heart of her daughter and hand.
_Ink_. Why, that heart's in the inkstand--that hand on the pen.
_Tra_. A propos--Will you write me a song now and then?
_Ink_. To what purpose?
_Tra_. You know, my dear friend, that in prose
My talent is decent, as far as it goes;
But in rhyme----
_Ink_. You're a terrible stick, to be sure.
_Tra_. I own it; and yet, in these times, there's no lure 90
For the heart of the fair like a stanza or two;
And so, as I can't, will you furnish a few?
_Ink_. In your name?
_Tra_. In my name. I will copy them out,
To slip into her hand at the very next rout.
_Ink_. Are you so far advanced as to hazard this?
_Tra_. Why,
Do you think me subdued by a Blue-stocking's eye,
So far as to tremble to tell her in rhyme
What I've told her in prose, at the least, as sublime?
_Ink_. _As sublime! _ If i be so, no need of my Muse.
_Tra_. But consider, dear Inkel, she's one of the "Blues. "100
_Ink_. As sublime! --Mr. Tracy--I've nothing to say.
Stick to prose--As sublime! ! --but I wish you good day.
_Tra_. Nay, stay, my dear fellow--consider--I'm wrong;
I own it; but, prithee, compose me the song.
_Ink_. _As_ sublime! !
_Tra_. I but used the expression in haste.
_Ink_. That may be, Mr. Tracy, but shows damned bad taste.
_Tra_.
I own it, I know it, acknowledge it--what
Can I say to you more?
_Ink_. I see what you'd be at:
You disparage my parts with insidious abuse,
Till you think you can turn them best to your own use. 110
_Tra_. And is that not a sign I respect them?
_Ink_. Why that
To be sure makes a difference.
_Tra_. I know what is what:
And you, who're a man of the gay world, no less
Than a poet of t'other, may easily guess
That I never could mean, by a word, to offend
A genius like you, and, moreover, my friend.
_Ink_. No doubt; you by this time should know what is due
To a man of----but come--let us shake hands.
_Tra_. You knew,
And you _know_, my dear fellow, how heartily I,
Whatever you publish, am ready to buy. 120
_Ink_. That's my bookseller's business; I care not for sale;
Indeed the best poems at first rather fail.
There were Renegade's epics, and Botherby's plays,[615]
And my own grand romance--
_Tra_. Had its full share of praise.
I myself saw it puffed in the "Old Girl's Review. "[616]
_Ink_. What Review?
_Tra_. Tis the English "Journal de Trevoux;"[617]
A clerical work of our Jesuits at home.
Have you never yet seen it?
_Ink_. That pleasure's to come.
_Tra_. Make haste then.
_Ink_. Why so?
_Tra_. I have heard people say
That it threatened to give up the _ghost_ t'other day. [618] 130
_Ink_. Well, that is a sign of some _spirit_.
_Tra_. No doubt.
Shall you be at the Countess of Fiddlecome's rout?
_Ink_. I've a card, and shall go: but at present, as soon
As friend Scamp shall be pleased to step down from the moon,
(Where he seems to be soaring in search of his wits),
And an interval grants from his lecturing fits,
I'm engaged to the Lady Bluebottle's collation,
To partake of a luncheon and learn'd conversation:
'Tis a sort of reunion for Scamp, on the days
Of his lecture, to treat him with cold tongue and praise. 140
And I own, for my own part, that 'tis not unpleasant.
Will you go? There's Miss Lilac will also be present.
_Tra_. That "metal's attractive. "
_Ink_. No doubt--to the pocket.
_Tra_. You should rather encourage my passion than shock it.
But let us proceed; for I think by the hum----
_Ink_. Very true; let us go, then, before they can come,
Or else we'll be kept here an hour at their levee,
On the rack of cross questions, by all the blue bevy.
Hark! Zounds, they'll be on us; I know by the drone
Of old Botherby's spouting ex-cathedra tone. [619] 150
Aye! there he is at it. Poor Scamp! better join
Your friends, or he'll pay you back in your own coin.
_Tra_. All fair; 'tis but lecture for lecture.
_Ink_. That's clear.
But for God's sake let's go, or the Bore will be here.
Come, come: nay, I'm off.
[_Exit_ INKEL.
_Tra_. You are right, and I'll follow;
'Tis high time for a "_Sic me servavit Apollo_. "[620]
And yet we shall have the whole crew on our kibes,[621]
Blues, dandies, and dowagers, and second-hand scribes,
All flocking to moisten their exquisite throttles
With a glass of Madeira[622] at Lady Bluebottle's. 160
[_Exit_ TRACY.
ECLOGUE THE SECOND.
_An Apartment in the House of_ LADY BLUEBOTTLE. --_A Table prepared. _
SIR RICHARD BLUEBOTTLE _solus_.
Was there ever a man who was married so sorry?
Like a fool, I must needs do the thing in a hurry.
My life is reversed, and my quiet destroyed;
My days, which once passed in so gentle a void,
Must now, every hour of the twelve, be employed;
The twelve, do I say? --of the whole twenty-four,
Is there one which I dare call my own any more?
What with driving and visiting, dancing and dining,
What with learning, and teaching, and scribbling, and shining,
In science and art, I'll be cursed if I know 10
Myself from my wife; for although we are two,
Yet she somehow contrives that all things shall be done
In a style which proclaims us eternally one.
But the thing of all things which distresses me more
Than the bills of the week (though they trouble me sore)
Is the numerous, humorous, backbiting crew
Of scribblers, wits, lecturers, white, black, and blue,
Who are brought to my house as an inn, to my cost--
For the bill here, it seems, is defrayed by the host--
No pleasure! no leisure! no thought for my pains, 20
But to hear a vile jargon which addles my brains;
A smatter and chatter, gleaned out of reviews,
By the rag, tag, and bobtail, of those they call "Blues;"
A rabble who know not----But soft, here they come!
Would to God I were deaf! as I'm not, I'll be dumb.
_Enter_ LADY BLUEBOTTLE, MISS LILAC, LADY BLUEMOUNT, MR. BOTHERBY,
INKEL, TRACY, MISS MAZARINE, _and others, with_ SCAMP _the Lecturer,
etc. , etc. _
_Lady Blueb_.
Ah! Sir Richard, good morning: I've brought you some friends.
_Sir Rich_. (_bows, and afterwards aside_).
If friends, they're the first.
_Lady Blueb_. But the luncheon attends.
I pray ye be seated, "_sans ceremonie_. "
Mr. Scamp, you're fatigued; take your chair there, next me.
[_They all sit. _
_Sir Rich_. (_aside_). If he does, his fatigue is to come.
_Lady Blueb_. Mr. Tracy--
Lady Bluemount--Miss Lilac--be pleased, pray, to place ye; 31
And you, Mr. Botherby--
_Both_. Oh, my dear Lady,
I obey.
_Lady Blueb_. Mr. Inkel, I ought to upbraid ye:
You were not at the lecture.
_Ink_. Excuse me, I was;
But the heat forced me out in the best part--alas!
And when--
_Lady Blueb_. To be sure it was broiling; but then
You have lost such a lecture!
_Both_. The best of the ten.
_Tra_. How can you know that? there are two more.
_Both_. Because
I defy him to beat this day's wondrous applause.
The very walls shook.
_Ink_. Oh, if that be the test, 40
I allow our friend Scamp has this day done his best.
Miss Lilac, permit me to help you;--a wing?
_Miss Lil_. No more, sir, I thank you. Who lectures next spring?
_Both_. Dick Dunder.
_Ink_. That is, if he lives.
_Miss Lil_. And why not?
_Ink_. No reason whatever, save that he's a sot.
Lady Bluemount! a glass of Madeira?
_Lady Bluem_. With pleasure.
_Ink_. How does your friend Wordswords, that Windermere treasure?
Does he stick to his lakes, like the leeches he sings,[623]
And their gatherers, as Homer sung warriors and kings?
_Lady Bluem_. He has just got a place. [624]
_Ink_. As a footman?
_Lady Bluem_. For shame!
Nor profane with your sneers so poetic a name. 51
_Ink_. Nay, I meant him no evil, but pitied his master;
For the poet of pedlers 'twere, sure, no disaster
To wear a new livery; the more, as 'tis not
The first time he has turned both his creed and his coat.
_Lady Bluem_. For shame! I repeat. If Sir George could but hear--
_Lady Blueb_. Never mind our friend Inkel; we all know, my dear,
'Tis his way.
_Sir Rich_. But this place--
_Ink_. Is perhaps like friend Scamp's,
A lecturer's.
_Lady Bluem_. Excuse me--'tis one in the "Stamps:"
He is made a collector.
_Tra_. Collector!
_Sir Rich_. How?
_Miss Lil_. What? 60
_Ink_. I shall think of him oft when I buy a new hat:
There his works will appear--
_Lady Bluem_. Sir, they reach to the Ganges.
_Ink_. I sha'n't go so far--I can have them at Grange's. [625]
_Lady Bluem_. Oh fie!
_Miss Lil_. And for shame!
_Lady Bluem_. You're too bad.
_Both_. Very good!
_Lady Bluem_. How good?
_Lady Blueb_. He means nought--'tis his phrase.
_Lady Bluem_. He grows rude.
_Lady Blueb_. He means nothing; nay, ask him.
_Lady Bluem_. Pray, Sir! did you mean
What you say?
_Ink_. Never mind if he did; 'twill be seen
That whatever he means won't alloy what he says.
_Both_. Sir!
_Ink_. Pray be content with your portion of praise;
'Twas in your defence.
_Both_. If you please, with submission 70
I can make out my own.
_Ink_. It would be your perdition.
While you live, my dear Botherby, never defend
Yourself or your works; but leave both to a friend.
Apropos--Is your play then accepted at last?
_Both_.
agreeable parties I can recollect, particularly one at Sir George
Beaumont's, where the amiable landlord had assembled some persons
distinguished for talent. Of these I need only mention the late Sir
Humphry Davy. . . . Mr. Richard Sharpe and Mr. Rogers were also present. "
Again, Miss Berry, in her _Journal_ (1866, in. 49) records, May 8, 1815,
that "Lord and Lady Byron persuaded me to go with them to Miss [Lydia]
White (_vide post_, p. 587). Never have I seen a more imposing
convocation of ladies arranged in a circle than when we entered . . . Lord
Byron brought me home. He stayed to supper. " If he did not affect "your
blue-bottles," he was on intimate terms with Madame de Stael, "the
_Begum_ of Literature," as Moore called her; with the Contessa
d'Albrizzi (the De Stael of Italy); with Mrs. Wilmot, the inspirer of
"She walks in beauty like the night;" with Mrs. Shelley; with Lady
Blessington. Moreover, to say nothing of his "mathematical wife," who
was as "blue as ether," the Countess Guiccioli could not only read and
"inwardly digest" _Corinna_ (see letter to Moore, January 2, 1820), but
knew the _Divina Commedia_ by heart, and was a critic as well as an
inspirer of her lover's poetry.
If it is difficult to assign a reason or occasion for the composition of
_The Blues_, it is a harder, perhaps an impossible, task to identify all
the _dramatis personae_. Botherby, Lady Bluemount, and Miss Diddle are,
obviously, Sotheby, Lady Beaumont, and Lydia White. Scamp the Lecturer
may be Hazlitt, who had incurred Byron's displeasure by commenting on
his various and varying estimates of Napoleon (see _Lectures on the
English Poets_, 1818, p. 304, and _Don Juan_, Canto 1. stanza ii. line
7, note to Buonaparte). Inkel seems to be meant for Byron himself, and
Tracy, a friend, _not_ a Lake poet, for Moore. Sir Richard and Lady
Bluebottle may possibly symbolize Lord and Lady Holland; and Miss Lilac
is, certainly, Miss Milbanke, the "Annabella" of Byron's courtship, not
the "moral Clytemnestra" of his marriage and separation.
_The Blues_ was published anonymously in the third number of the
_Liberal_, which appeared April 26, 1823. The "Eclogue" was not
attributed to Byron, and met with greater contempt than it deserved. In
the _Noctes Ambrosiance_ (Blackwood's _Edinburgh Magazine_, May, 1823,
vol. xiii. p. 607), the third number of the _Liberal_ is dismissed with
the remark, "The last Number contains not one _line_ of Byron's! Thank
God! he has seen his error, and kicked them out. " Brief but contemptuous
notices appeared in the _Literary Chronicle_, April 26, and the
_Literary Gazette_, May 3, 1823; while a short-lived periodical, named
the _Literary Register_ (May 3, quoted at length in _John Bull_, May 4,
1823), implies that the author (i. e. Leigh Hunt) would be better
qualified to "catch the manners" of Lisson Grove than of May Fair. It is
possible that this was the "last straw," and that the reception of _The
Blues_ hastened Byron's determination to part company with the
profitless and ill-omened _Liberal_.
THE BLUES:[609]
A LITERARY ECLOGUE.
ECLOGUE THE FIRST.
_London. --Before the Door of a Lecture Room_.
_Enter_ TRACY, _meeting_ INKEL.
_Ink_. You're too late.
_Tra_. Is it over?
_Ink_. Nor will be this hour.
But the benches are crammed, like a garden in flower.
With the pride of our belles, who have made it the fashion;
So, instead of "beaux arts," we may say "la _belle_ passion"
For learning, which lately has taken the lead in
The world, and set all the fine gentlemen reading.
_Tra_. I know it too well, and have worn out my patience
With studying to study your new publications.
There's Vamp, Scamp, and Mouthy, and Wordswords and Co. [610]
With their damnable----
_Ink_. Hold, my good friend, do you know 10
Whom you speak to?
_Tra_. Right well, boy, and so does "the Row:"[611]
You're an author--a poet--
_Ink_. And think you that I
Can stand tamely in silence, to hear you decry
The Muses?
_Tra_. Excuse me: I meant no offence
To the Nine; though the number who make some pretence
To their favours is such----but the subject to drop,
I am just piping hot from a publisher's shop,
(Next door to the pastry-cook's; so that when I
Cannot find the new volume I wanted to buy
On the bibliopole's shelves, it is only two paces, 20
As one finds every author in one of those places:)
Where I just had been skimming a charming critique,
So studded with wit, and so sprinkled with Greek!
Where your friend--you know who--has just got such a threshing,
That it is, as the phrase goes, extremely "_refreshing. _"[612]
What a beautiful word!
_Ink_. Very true; 'tis so soft
And so cooling--they use it a little too oft;
And the papers have got it at last--but no matter.
So they've cut up our friend then?
_Tra_. Not left him a tatter--
Not a rag of his present or past reputation, 30
Which they call a disgrace to the age, and the nation.
_Ink_. I'm sorry to hear this! for friendship, you know--
Our poor friend! --but I thought it would terminate so.
Our friendship is such, I'll read nothing to shock it.
You don't happen to have the Review in your pocket?
_Tra_. No; I left a round dozen of authors and others
(Very sorry, no doubt, since the cause is a brother's)
All scrambling and jostling, like so many imps,
And on fire with impatience to get the next glimpse.
_Ink_. Let us join them.
_Tra_. What, won't you return to the lecture? 40
_Ink_. Why the place is so crammed, there's not room for a spectre.
Besides, our friend Scamp is to-day so absurd--[613]
_Tra_. How can you know that till you hear him?
_Ink_. I heard
Quite enough; and, to tell you the truth, my retreat
Was from his vile nonsense, no less than the heat.
_Tra_. I have had no great loss then?
_Ink_. Loss! --such a palaver!
I'd inoculate sooner my wife with the slaver
Of a dog when gone rabid, than listen two hours
To the torrent of trash which around him he pours,
Pumped up with such effort, disgorged with such labour, 50
That----come--do not make me speak ill of one's neighbour.
_Tra_. _I_ make you!
_Ink_. Yes, you! I said nothing until
You compelled me, by speaking the truth----
_Tra_. _To speak ill? _
Is that your deduction?
_Ink_. When speaking of Scamp ill,
I certainly _follow, not set_ an example.
The fellow's a fool, an impostor, a zany.
_Tra_. And the crowd of to-day shows that one fool makes many.
But we two will be wise.
_Ink_. Pray, then, let us retire.
_Tra_. I would, but----
_Ink_. There must be attraction much higher
Than Scamp, or the Jew's harp he nicknames his lyre, 60
To call you to this hotbed.
_Tra_. I own it--'tis true--
A fair lady----
_Ink_. A spinster?
_Tra_. Miss Lilac.
_Ink_. The Blue!
_Tra_. The heiress! The angel!
_Ink_. The devil! why, man,
Pray get out of this hobble as fast as you can.
_You_ wed with Miss Lilac! 'twould be your perdition:
She's a poet, a chymist, a mathematician. [614]
_Tra_. I say she's an angel.
_Ink_. Say rather an angle.
If you and she marry, you'll certainly wrangle.
I say she's a Blue, man, as blue as the ether.
_Tra_. And is that any cause for not coming together? 70
_Ink_. Humph! I can't say I know any happy alliance
Which has lately sprung up from a wedlock with science.
She's so learned in all things, and fond of concerning
Herself in all matters connected with learning,
That----
_Tra_. What?
_Ink_. I perhaps may as well hold my tongue;
But there's five hundred people can tell you you're
wrong.
_Tra_. You forget Lady Lilac's as rich as a Jew.
_Ink_. Is it miss or the cash of mamma you pursue?
_Tra_. Why, Jack, I'll be frank with you--something of both.
The girl's a fine girl.
_Ink_. And you feel nothing loth 80
To her good lady-mother's reversion; and yet
Her life is as good as your own, I will bet.
_Tra_. Let her live, and as long as she likes; I demand
Nothing more than the heart of her daughter and hand.
_Ink_. Why, that heart's in the inkstand--that hand on the pen.
_Tra_. A propos--Will you write me a song now and then?
_Ink_. To what purpose?
_Tra_. You know, my dear friend, that in prose
My talent is decent, as far as it goes;
But in rhyme----
_Ink_. You're a terrible stick, to be sure.
_Tra_. I own it; and yet, in these times, there's no lure 90
For the heart of the fair like a stanza or two;
And so, as I can't, will you furnish a few?
_Ink_. In your name?
_Tra_. In my name. I will copy them out,
To slip into her hand at the very next rout.
_Ink_. Are you so far advanced as to hazard this?
_Tra_. Why,
Do you think me subdued by a Blue-stocking's eye,
So far as to tremble to tell her in rhyme
What I've told her in prose, at the least, as sublime?
_Ink_. _As sublime! _ If i be so, no need of my Muse.
_Tra_. But consider, dear Inkel, she's one of the "Blues. "100
_Ink_. As sublime! --Mr. Tracy--I've nothing to say.
Stick to prose--As sublime! ! --but I wish you good day.
_Tra_. Nay, stay, my dear fellow--consider--I'm wrong;
I own it; but, prithee, compose me the song.
_Ink_. _As_ sublime! !
_Tra_. I but used the expression in haste.
_Ink_. That may be, Mr. Tracy, but shows damned bad taste.
_Tra_.
I own it, I know it, acknowledge it--what
Can I say to you more?
_Ink_. I see what you'd be at:
You disparage my parts with insidious abuse,
Till you think you can turn them best to your own use. 110
_Tra_. And is that not a sign I respect them?
_Ink_. Why that
To be sure makes a difference.
_Tra_. I know what is what:
And you, who're a man of the gay world, no less
Than a poet of t'other, may easily guess
That I never could mean, by a word, to offend
A genius like you, and, moreover, my friend.
_Ink_. No doubt; you by this time should know what is due
To a man of----but come--let us shake hands.
_Tra_. You knew,
And you _know_, my dear fellow, how heartily I,
Whatever you publish, am ready to buy. 120
_Ink_. That's my bookseller's business; I care not for sale;
Indeed the best poems at first rather fail.
There were Renegade's epics, and Botherby's plays,[615]
And my own grand romance--
_Tra_. Had its full share of praise.
I myself saw it puffed in the "Old Girl's Review. "[616]
_Ink_. What Review?
_Tra_. Tis the English "Journal de Trevoux;"[617]
A clerical work of our Jesuits at home.
Have you never yet seen it?
_Ink_. That pleasure's to come.
_Tra_. Make haste then.
_Ink_. Why so?
_Tra_. I have heard people say
That it threatened to give up the _ghost_ t'other day. [618] 130
_Ink_. Well, that is a sign of some _spirit_.
_Tra_. No doubt.
Shall you be at the Countess of Fiddlecome's rout?
_Ink_. I've a card, and shall go: but at present, as soon
As friend Scamp shall be pleased to step down from the moon,
(Where he seems to be soaring in search of his wits),
And an interval grants from his lecturing fits,
I'm engaged to the Lady Bluebottle's collation,
To partake of a luncheon and learn'd conversation:
'Tis a sort of reunion for Scamp, on the days
Of his lecture, to treat him with cold tongue and praise. 140
And I own, for my own part, that 'tis not unpleasant.
Will you go? There's Miss Lilac will also be present.
_Tra_. That "metal's attractive. "
_Ink_. No doubt--to the pocket.
_Tra_. You should rather encourage my passion than shock it.
But let us proceed; for I think by the hum----
_Ink_. Very true; let us go, then, before they can come,
Or else we'll be kept here an hour at their levee,
On the rack of cross questions, by all the blue bevy.
Hark! Zounds, they'll be on us; I know by the drone
Of old Botherby's spouting ex-cathedra tone. [619] 150
Aye! there he is at it. Poor Scamp! better join
Your friends, or he'll pay you back in your own coin.
_Tra_. All fair; 'tis but lecture for lecture.
_Ink_. That's clear.
But for God's sake let's go, or the Bore will be here.
Come, come: nay, I'm off.
[_Exit_ INKEL.
_Tra_. You are right, and I'll follow;
'Tis high time for a "_Sic me servavit Apollo_. "[620]
And yet we shall have the whole crew on our kibes,[621]
Blues, dandies, and dowagers, and second-hand scribes,
All flocking to moisten their exquisite throttles
With a glass of Madeira[622] at Lady Bluebottle's. 160
[_Exit_ TRACY.
ECLOGUE THE SECOND.
_An Apartment in the House of_ LADY BLUEBOTTLE. --_A Table prepared. _
SIR RICHARD BLUEBOTTLE _solus_.
Was there ever a man who was married so sorry?
Like a fool, I must needs do the thing in a hurry.
My life is reversed, and my quiet destroyed;
My days, which once passed in so gentle a void,
Must now, every hour of the twelve, be employed;
The twelve, do I say? --of the whole twenty-four,
Is there one which I dare call my own any more?
What with driving and visiting, dancing and dining,
What with learning, and teaching, and scribbling, and shining,
In science and art, I'll be cursed if I know 10
Myself from my wife; for although we are two,
Yet she somehow contrives that all things shall be done
In a style which proclaims us eternally one.
But the thing of all things which distresses me more
Than the bills of the week (though they trouble me sore)
Is the numerous, humorous, backbiting crew
Of scribblers, wits, lecturers, white, black, and blue,
Who are brought to my house as an inn, to my cost--
For the bill here, it seems, is defrayed by the host--
No pleasure! no leisure! no thought for my pains, 20
But to hear a vile jargon which addles my brains;
A smatter and chatter, gleaned out of reviews,
By the rag, tag, and bobtail, of those they call "Blues;"
A rabble who know not----But soft, here they come!
Would to God I were deaf! as I'm not, I'll be dumb.
_Enter_ LADY BLUEBOTTLE, MISS LILAC, LADY BLUEMOUNT, MR. BOTHERBY,
INKEL, TRACY, MISS MAZARINE, _and others, with_ SCAMP _the Lecturer,
etc. , etc. _
_Lady Blueb_.
Ah! Sir Richard, good morning: I've brought you some friends.
_Sir Rich_. (_bows, and afterwards aside_).
If friends, they're the first.
_Lady Blueb_. But the luncheon attends.
I pray ye be seated, "_sans ceremonie_. "
Mr. Scamp, you're fatigued; take your chair there, next me.
[_They all sit. _
_Sir Rich_. (_aside_). If he does, his fatigue is to come.
_Lady Blueb_. Mr. Tracy--
Lady Bluemount--Miss Lilac--be pleased, pray, to place ye; 31
And you, Mr. Botherby--
_Both_. Oh, my dear Lady,
I obey.
_Lady Blueb_. Mr. Inkel, I ought to upbraid ye:
You were not at the lecture.
_Ink_. Excuse me, I was;
But the heat forced me out in the best part--alas!
And when--
_Lady Blueb_. To be sure it was broiling; but then
You have lost such a lecture!
_Both_. The best of the ten.
_Tra_. How can you know that? there are two more.
_Both_. Because
I defy him to beat this day's wondrous applause.
The very walls shook.
_Ink_. Oh, if that be the test, 40
I allow our friend Scamp has this day done his best.
Miss Lilac, permit me to help you;--a wing?
_Miss Lil_. No more, sir, I thank you. Who lectures next spring?
_Both_. Dick Dunder.
_Ink_. That is, if he lives.
_Miss Lil_. And why not?
_Ink_. No reason whatever, save that he's a sot.
Lady Bluemount! a glass of Madeira?
_Lady Bluem_. With pleasure.
_Ink_. How does your friend Wordswords, that Windermere treasure?
Does he stick to his lakes, like the leeches he sings,[623]
And their gatherers, as Homer sung warriors and kings?
_Lady Bluem_. He has just got a place. [624]
_Ink_. As a footman?
_Lady Bluem_. For shame!
Nor profane with your sneers so poetic a name. 51
_Ink_. Nay, I meant him no evil, but pitied his master;
For the poet of pedlers 'twere, sure, no disaster
To wear a new livery; the more, as 'tis not
The first time he has turned both his creed and his coat.
_Lady Bluem_. For shame! I repeat. If Sir George could but hear--
_Lady Blueb_. Never mind our friend Inkel; we all know, my dear,
'Tis his way.
_Sir Rich_. But this place--
_Ink_. Is perhaps like friend Scamp's,
A lecturer's.
_Lady Bluem_. Excuse me--'tis one in the "Stamps:"
He is made a collector.
_Tra_. Collector!
_Sir Rich_. How?
_Miss Lil_. What? 60
_Ink_. I shall think of him oft when I buy a new hat:
There his works will appear--
_Lady Bluem_. Sir, they reach to the Ganges.
_Ink_. I sha'n't go so far--I can have them at Grange's. [625]
_Lady Bluem_. Oh fie!
_Miss Lil_. And for shame!
_Lady Bluem_. You're too bad.
_Both_. Very good!
_Lady Bluem_. How good?
_Lady Blueb_. He means nought--'tis his phrase.
_Lady Bluem_. He grows rude.
_Lady Blueb_. He means nothing; nay, ask him.
_Lady Bluem_. Pray, Sir! did you mean
What you say?
_Ink_. Never mind if he did; 'twill be seen
That whatever he means won't alloy what he says.
_Both_. Sir!
_Ink_. Pray be content with your portion of praise;
'Twas in your defence.
_Both_. If you please, with submission 70
I can make out my own.
_Ink_. It would be your perdition.
While you live, my dear Botherby, never defend
Yourself or your works; but leave both to a friend.
Apropos--Is your play then accepted at last?
_Both_.
