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and extremely formidable.



DR. PANGLOSS AND HIS PUPIL.
(From " The Heir at Law. ")

[GEORGE COLMAN, the Younger, born October 21,
17G2. Educated at Westminster and Oxford. Favour-
ite companion of George IV., and by him made licenser
of plays. Died in London, October 20, 1836.]

Pangloas. Never before did honour and
affluence let fall such a shower on the head
of Dr. Pangloss ! Fortune, I thauk thee !
Propitious goddess, I am grateful 1 I, thy
favoured child, who commenced his career
in the loftiest apartment of a muffin-maker,



DR. PANGLOSS AND HIS PUPIL.



191



in Milk Alley. Little did I think
" good easy man " Shakespeare hem !
of the riches and literary dignities which



Enter DICK DOWLAS.

My pupil !

Dick. (Speaking while entering.} Well,
where is the man that wants oh ! you are
he, I suppose

Pang. I am the man, young gentleman.
Homo sum. Terence hem ! Sir, the per-
son who now presumes to address you is
Peter Pangloss, to whose name in the Col-
lege of Aberdeen, is subjoined L. L. D.,
signifying Doctor of Laws ; to which has
been recently added the distinction of A
double S ; the Roman initials for a Fellow
of the Society of Arts.

Dick. I am your most obedient, Rich-
ard Dowlas ; to whose name, in his tailor's
bill, is subjoined DR., signifying Debtor ;
to which are added L. S. D., the Roman
initials for pounds, shillings, and pence.

Pang. (Aside.) Ha ! this youth was,
doubtless, designed by destiny to move in
the circles of fashion, for he dips in debt,
and makes a merit of telling it.

Dick. But what are your commands
with me. doctor?

Pang. I have the honour, young gen tie -
tleman, of being deputed an ambassador
to you, from your father.

Dick. Then you have the honour to be
ambassador of as good-natured an old fel-
low as ever sold a ha'porth of cheese in a
chandler's shop.

Pang. Pardon me, if on the subject of
your father's cheese, I advise you to be as
mute as a mouse in one for the future ;
'twere better to keep that altd mente repos-
tum ! Virgil hem !

Dick. Why, what's the matter ? Any
misfortune ? Broke, I fear ?

Pang. No, not broke ; but his name, as
'tis customary in these cases, has appeared
in the Gazette.

Dick. Not broke, but gazetted ! why,
zounds I

Pang. Check your passions ; learn phil-
osophy. When the wife of the great Socrates
threw a hum ! threw a teapot at his
erudite head, he was as cool as a cucum-
ber. When Plato

Dick. Hang Plato ! What of my father ?

Pang. Don't hang Plato. The bees
swarmed round his mellifluous mouth as
soon as he was swaddled. Cum in cunis



apes in labellis consedissent. Cicero
hem !

Dick. I wish you had a swarm round
yours, with all my heart. Come to the
point.

Pang, In due time. But calm your
choler. Ira furor brevis est. Horace
hem. 1 Read this.

[ Gives a letter.

Dick. [Snatches the letter, breaks it
open, and reads.]

"DEAR DICK, This comes to inform
you I am in a perfect state of health,
hoping you are the same." Ay, that's the
old beginning. " It was my lot, last'week,
to be made " ay, a bankrupt, I suppose ?
" to be made a " what ? " to be made
a PEAR." A pear! to be made a
pear ! What on earth does he mean by
that?

Pang. A peer ! a peer of the realm.
His lordship's orthography is a little loose,
but several of his equals countenance the
custom. Lord Loggerhead always spells
physician with an F.

Dick. A peer! what, my father ? I'm
electrified ! Old Daniel Dowlas made a
peer! But, let me see. (Reads on.) " A
pear of the realm. Lawyer Ferrett got me
my tittle " titt oh, title ! " and an estate
of fifteen thousand per ann., by making me
out next of kin to old Lord Duberly, be-
cause he died without without hair. "
'Tis an odd reason, by-the-by, to be next of
kin to a nobleman because he died bald.

Pang. His lordship means heir heir to
his estate. We shall ameliorate his style
speedily.

"Reform it altogether." Shakespeare
hem !

Dick. " I send my carrot " carrot.

Pang. He ! he ! he I Chariot, his lord-
ship means.

Dick. " With Dr. Pangloss in it. "

Pang. That's me.

Dick. " Respect him, for he's an L. L.
D., and moreover, an A double S. "

[They bow.

Pang. His lordship kindly condescend-
ed to insert that at my request.

Dick. " And I have made him your tu-
torer, to mend your cakelology. "

Pang. Cacology ; from kakos, " malus, "
and logos, " verbum. " Vide lexicon
hem !

Dick. " Come with the doctor to my
house in Hanover Square" Hanover



192



FANCY AND DESIRE.



Square ! " I remain your affectionate fath-
er, to command. DUBERLY. "

Pang. That's his lordship's title.

Dick. Is it ?

Pang. It is.

Dick. Say sir to a Lord's son. You
have no more manners than a bear!

Pang. Bear ! Under favour, young gen-
tleman, I am the bear-leader, being ap-
pointed your tutor.

Dick. And what can you teach me ?

Pang. Prudence. Don't forget your-
self in a sudden success. Tecum habita.
Persius hem !

Dick. Prudence to a nobleman's son
with fifteen thousand a year !

Pang. Don't give way to your passions.

Dick. Give way ! Zounds ! I'm wild
mad ! You teach me 1 Pooh 1 I have
been in London before, and I know it re-
quires no teaching to be a modern fine gen-
tleman. Why, it all lies in a nutshell ;
sport a curricle walk Bond Street play
at faro get drunk dance reels go to the
Opera cut off your tail pull on your pan-
taloons, and there's a buck of the first
fashion in town for you. D'ye think I don't
know what's going ?

Pang. Mercy on me ! I shall have a
very refractory pupil.

Dick. Not at all. We'll be hand and
glove together, my little doctor. I'll drive
you down to all the races ; with my little
terrier between your legs, in a tandem.

Pang. Dr. Pangloss, the philosopher,
with a terrier between his legs, in a tan-
dem 1

Dick. I'll tell you what, doctor: I'll
make you my long-stop at cricket you
shall draw corks when I'm president
laugh at my jokes before company squeeze
lemons for punch cast up the reckoning
and woe betide you if you don't keep sober
enough to see me safe home after a jollifi-
cation !

Pang. Make me a long-stop, and a
squeezer of lemons ! Zounds ! this is more
fatiguing than walking with the lapdogs !
And are these the qualifications for a tutor,
young gentleman ?

Dick. Come now, tutor, go you and call
the waiter.

Pang. Go and call. Sir sir ! I'd have
you to understand, Mr. Dowlas

Dick. Ay, let us understand one an-
other, doctor. My father, I take it, comes
down very handsomely to you for your
management of me?



Pang. My lord has been liberal.

Dick. But 'tis I must manage you,
doctor. Acknowledge this, and, between
ourselves, I'll find means to double your
pay.

Pang. Double my pay ! Say no more,
done ! Actum est ! Terence, hem ! Waiter
(Baicling.} Gad, I've reached the right
reading at last !



FANCY AND DESIRE.

[EDWARD VERB, EARL or OXFORD. This nobleman,
so highly popular in the court of Elizabeth (1540-1604),
and conspicuous on many memorable occasions as in the
trial of Mary Queen of Scots is now known only for
some verses in the miscellany entitled the " Paradie of
Dainty Devices." He was famed In his own day for come-
dies, or courtly entertainments, none of which has been
preserved. Stow states that this nobleman was the first
that brought to England from Italy embroidered gloves
and perfumes, which Elizabeth no doubt approved of aa
highly as his sonnets or madrigals ]

Come hither, shepherd swain !

Sir, what do you require ?
I pray thee shew to me thy name !

My name is Fond Desire.

When wert thou born, Desire ?

In pomp and prime of May.
By whom, sweet boy, wert thou begot ?

By fond Conceit, men say.

Tell me who was thy nurse ?

Fresh youth, in sugared joy.
What was thy meat and daily food ?

Sad sighs with great annoy.

What hadst thou then to drink ?

Unfeigned lovers' tears.
What cradle wert thou rocked in ?

In hope devoid of fears.

What lulled thee then asleep ?

Sweet speech, which likes me best.
Tell me where is thy dwelling-place?

In gentle hearts I rest.

What thing doth please thee most ?

To gaze on beauty still.
Whom dost thou think to be thy foe ?

Disdain of my good will.

Doth company displease ?

Yes, surely, many one.
When doth Desire delight to live?

He loves to live alone.



THE QUARREL OF SQUIRE BULL AND HIS SON.



193



Doth either time or age

Bring him into decay?
No, no ! Desire both lives and dies

A thousand times a day.

Then, Fond Desire, farewell !

Thou art no mate for me ;
I should be loath, methinks, to dwell

With such a one as thee.



REASONS FOR THE SOUL'S IMMOR
TALITY.

All moving things to other things do move
Of the same kind, which shews their nature such ;
So earth falls down, and fire doth mount above,
Till both their proper elements do touch.

And as the moisture which the thirsty earth
Sucks from the sea to fill her empty veins,
From out her womb at last doth take a birth,
And runs a nymph along the grassy plains ;

Long doth she stay, as loth to leave the land,
From whose soft side she first did issue make ;
She tastes all places, turns to every hand,
Her flowery banks unwilling to forsake.

Yet nature so her streams doth lead and carry
As that her course doth make no final stay,
Till she herself unto the sea doth marry,
Within whose watery bosoin first she lay :

E'en so the soul, which, in this earthly mould
The Spirit of God doth secretly infuse,
Because at first she doth the earth behold,
And only thia material world she views :

At first IICT mother-earth she holdeth dear,
And doth embrace the world and worldly things ;
She flies close by the ground, and hovers hero,
And mounts not up with her celestial wings :

Yet under heaven she cannot light on aught
That with her heavenly nature doth agree ;
She cannot rest, she cannot fix her thought,
She cannot in this world contented be.

For who did ever yet, in honour, wealth,
Or pleasure of the sense, contentment find ?
Who ever ceased to wish, when he had health,
Or, having wisdom, was not vexed in mind ?

Then, as a bee which among weeds doth fall,
Which seem sweet flowers, with lustre fresh and gay,
She lights on that, and this, and tasteth all,
Eut, pleased with none, doth rise and soar away ;

So, when the soul finds here no true content,
And, like Noah's dove, can no sure footing take,
She doth return from whence she first was sent,
And flies to him that first her wings did make.

SIB JOHN DA VIES.
TOL. IV.



THE QUARREL OF SQUIRE BULL
AND HIS SON.

FROM JOHN BULL AND BROTHER JONATHAN.

[JAMES KIRKE PAULDING, an American writer of fic-
tion and belles lettres, born in Duchesa County, N. Y.
in 1779, died at Hyde Park, N. Y., I860. Paulding was
of Dutch descent, and became early associated with
Washington Irving in the authorship of Salmagundi
(1807-1809), the whole second series of that work being
by Paulding. The satirical humor of thia book gave it
immediate success, and encouraged Paulding to write
his " Diverting History of John Bull and Brother Jonathan,"
which also succeeded well. Among his numerous other
works were " Koningsmarlc" (1823), " Merry Tales of tlie
Three Wise Slen of Gotham," and " The Dutchman's. Fire-
tide" (1831), a domestic story of the Hudson during the
old French war, full of quaint humor, which is still
ranked as Paulding's best work. Besides hia many
novels and poems, Paulding published a book .on
slavery, and a life of Washington, the latter in Har-
pers' Family Library.]

JOHN BULL was a choleric old fellow, who
held a good manor in the middle of a great
millpond, and which, by reason of its being
quite surrounded by water, was generally
called Bullock Island. Bull was an inge-
nious man, an exceedingly good blacksmith,
a dexterous cutler, and a notable weaver and
pot-baker besides. He also brewed capital
porter, ale, and small beer, and was, in fact,
a sort of jack-of-all-trades, and good at each.
In addition to these, he was a hearty fellow,
an excellent bottle companion, and passably
honest as times go.

But what tarnished all these qualities was
a devilish, quarrelsome, overbearing disposi-
tion, which was always getting him into
some scrape or other. The truth is, he
never heard of a quarrel going on among
his neighbours, but his fingers itched to be
in the thickest of them ; so that he was
hardly ever seen without a broken head, a
black eye, or a bloody nose. Such was
Squire Bull, as he was commonly called by
the country people, his neighbours one of
those odd, testy, grumbling, boasting old
codgers, that never get credit for what they
are, because they are always pretending to
be what they are not.

_The squire was as tight a hand to deal
with in-doors as out ; sometimes treating
his family as if they were not the same flesh
and blood, when they happened to differ
with him in certain matters. One day he
~ot into a dispute with his youngest son

onathan, who was familiarly called BROTHER
JONATHAN, about whether churches ought

86



194



DANIEL WEBSTER AND HIS SPEECHES.



to be called churches or meeting-houses ;
and whether. steeples were not an abomina-
tion. The squire, either having the worst of
the argument, or being naturally impatient
of contradiction (I can't tell which), fell into
a great passion, and swore he would physic
such notions out of the boy's noddle. So
he went to some of his doctors, and got
them to draw up a prescription, made up of
thirty-nine different articles, many of them
bitter enough to some palates. This he
tried to make Jonathan swallow; and find-
ing he made villanous wry faces, and would
not do it, fell upon him and beat him like
fury. After this he made the house so dis-
agreeable to him, that Jonathan, though as
hard as a pine knot and as tough as leather,
could bear it no longer. Taking his gun
and his axe, he put himself in a boat and
paddled over the millpond to some new lands
to which the squire pretended some sort of
claim, intending to settle them, and build a
meeting-house without a steeple as soon as
he grew rich enough.

When he got over, Jonathan found that
the land was quite in a state of nature, cov-
ered with wood, and inhabited by no body
but wild beasts. But being a lad of mettle,
he took his axe on one shoulder, and his gun
on the other, marched into the thickest of the
wood, and clearing a place, built a log-hut.
Pursuing his labours, and handling his axe
like a notable woodman, he in a few years
cleared the land, which he laid out into thir-
teen good farms : and building himself a
fine frame house, about half-finished, began
to be quite snug and comfortable.

But Squire Bull, who was getting old and
stingy, and, besides, was in great want of
money, on account of his having lately been
made to pay swinging damages for assault-
ing his neighbours and breaking their heads
the squire, I say, finding Jonathan was
getting well-to-do in the world, began to be
very much troubled about his welfare, so he
domanded that Jonathan should pay him a
good rent for the land which he had cleared
and made good for something. He trumped
up I know not what claim against him, and
under different pretences managed to pocket
all Jonathan's honest gains. In fact the
poor lad had not a shilling left for holiday
occasions ; and had it not been for the filial
respect he felt for the old man, he would cer-
tainly have refused to submit to such imposi-
tions.

But for all this, in a little time, Jonathan
grew up to be very large of his age, and be-



came a tall, stout, double-jointed, broad-
footed cub of a fellow, awkward in his gait
and simple in his appearance , but showing
a lively, shrewd look, and having the promise
of great strength Avhen he should get his full
growth. He was rather an odd-looking chap,
in truth, and had many queer ways ; but
everybody that had seen John Bull saw a
great likeness between them, and swore he
was John's own boy, and a true chip of the
old block. Like the old squire, he was apt
to be blustering and saucy, but in the main
was a peaceable sort of careless fellow, that
would quarrel with nobody if you only let
him alone. He used to dress in homespun
trousers with a huge bagging seat, which
seemed to have nothing in it. This made
people to say he had no bottom ; but who-
ever said so lied, as they found to their cost
whenever they put Jonathan in a passion.
He always wore a linsey-woolsey coat that
did not above half cover his breech, and the
sleeves of which were so short that his hand
and wrist came out beyond them, looking
like a shoulder of mutton. All of which was
in consequence of his growing so &st that
he outgrew his clothes.

While Jonathan was outgrowing his
strength, in this way, Bull kept on picking
his pockets of every penny he could scrape
together ; till at last one day when the squire
was even more than usually pressing in his
demands, which he accompanied with threats,
Jonathan started up in a furious passion,
and threw the TEA-KETTLE at the old man's
head. The choleric Bull was hereupon ex-
ceedingly enraged ; and after calling the
poor lad an undutiful, ungrateful, rebellious
rascal, seized him by the collar, and forth-
with a furious scuffle ensued. This lasted
a long time ; for the squire, though in years,
was a capital boxer, and of most excellent
bottom. At last, however, Jonathan got him
under, and before he would let him up, made
him sign a paper giving up all claim to
the farms, and acknowledging the fee-simple
to be in Jonathan forever.



PUBLIC OPINION.

FROM A SPEECH OX THE GREEK REVOLUTION.

[DANIEL WEBSTER, perhaps the most distinguished of
American parliamentary orators, born in Salisbury,
K. H., in 1782, died at Marshfield, Mass., 1852. Web-
ster's early advantages consisted of a few months'
academy schooling at Exeter, and four years at Dart-



SOUTH CAROLINA AND MASSACHUSETTS.



195



mouth College, where he supported himself by teaching
school during the winters. He was the finest scholar
in his class, and became early noted in debate for the
clearness and strength of his speeches. He studied law,
and became one of the most illustrious advocates and
ornaments of the American bar. Elected to Congress
in 1812, he took an early and very active part in all
political questions. Removing to Boston in 1816, he
became thenceforth identified with his adopted State,
taking rank for nearly fifty years as her ruost eminent
statesman, and one of her profoundest jurists. Among
the most notable of Webster's public addresses not po-
litical in character were his celebrated discourse at Ply-
mouth on the two hundredth anniversary of the Pil-
grim landing, his magnificent oration at laying the
corner-atone of Bunker Hill monument, June 17, 1825,
and his eulogy of Adams and Jefferson, at Faneuil Hall
in 1826. Webster entered the Senate of the United
States in 1827, and was continuously re-elected until his
death, in 1852, resigning twice to enter the Cabinet as
Secretary of State. His State papers in the latter office
are marked by great ability and cogency of statement.
It is generally conceded that Webster's crowning effort
in forensic eloquence was his reply to Senator Hayne,
of South Carolina, in 1830, in which the doctrine of
nullification was powerfully dissected, and the su-
premacy of the national constitution and laws over
those of the States maintained. Webster's " Speeches,
Foretisic Arguments, and Diplomatic Papers" appeared in
six volumes in 1851, and his life has been elaborately
written by George Ticknor Curtis (2 vols., N. Y., 18C9.) ].

It may be asked, perhaps . . . what can
we do ? Are we to go to war ? Are we to
interfere in the Greek cause, or any other
European cause? Are we to endanger our
pacific relations ? No, certainly not.
What, then, the question recurs, remains
for us ? If we will not endanger our own
peace ; if we will neither furnish armies
nor nuvies to the cause which we think the
just one, what is there within our power?

Sir, this reasoning mistakes the age. The
time has been, indeed, when fleets, and
armies, and subsidies were the principal re-
liances even in the best cause. But, hap-
pily for mankind, there has arrived a great
change in this respect. Moral causes come
into consideration in proportion as the pro-
gress of knowledge is advanced ; and the
public opinion of the civilized world is ra-
pidly gaining an ascendency over mere
brutal force. It is already able to oppose
the most formidable obstruction to the pro-
gress of injustice and oppression ; and, as
it grows more intelligent and more intense,
it will be more and more formidable. It
may be silenced by military power, but it
cannot be conquered. It is elastic, irre-
pressible, and invulnerable to the weapons



of ordinary warfare. It is that impassable,
unextinguishable enemy of mere violence
and arbitrary rule which, like Milton's
angels,

" Vital in every part,
Cannot, but by annihilating, die."

Until this be propitiated or satisfied, it is
vain for power to talk either of triumphs or
of repose. No matter what fields are deso-
lated, what fortresses surrendered, what
armies subdued, or what provinces overrun.
In the history of the year that has passed
by us, and in the instance of unhappy
Spain, we have seen the vanity of all tri-
umphs in a cause which violates the general
sense of justice of the civilized world. It
is nothing that the troops of F ranee have
passed from the Pyrenees to Cadiz ; it is
nothing that an unhappy and prostrate na-
tion has fallen before them ; it is nothing
that arrests, and confiscation, and execution
sweep away the little remnant of national
resistance. There is an enemy that still
exists to check the glory of these triumphs.
It follows the conqueror back to the very
scene of his ovations ; it calls upon him to
take notice that Europe, though silent, is
yet indignant ; it shows him that the scep-
tre of his victory is a barren sceptre ; that
it shall confer neither joy nor honour, but
shall moulder to dry ashes in his grasp. In
the midst of his exultation it pierces his ear
with the cry of injured justice, it denounces
against him the indignation of an enlight-
ened and civilized age ; it turns to bitter-
ness the cup of his rejoicing, and wounds
him with the sting which belongs to the
consciousness of having outraged the opinion
of mankind.



SOUTH CAROLINA AND MAS-
SACHUSETTS.

FROM A SPEECH IX THE SEXATE.

The eulogium pronounced on the char-
acter of the State of South Carolina by the
honourable gentleman, for her revolutionary
and other merits, meets my hearty concur-
rence. I shall not acknowledge that the
honourable member goes before me in re-
gard for whatever of distinguished talent,
or distinguished character, South Carolina
has produced. I claim part of the honour:
I partake in the pride of her great names.
I claim them for countrymen, one and alL



196



IMPORTANCE OF PRESERVING THE UNION.



The Laurenses, Rutledges, the Pinckneys,
the Sumpters, the Marions Americans all
whose fame is no more to be hemmed in
by State lines, than their talents and pa-
triotism were capable of being circumscribed
within the same narrow limits. In their
day and generation they served and hon-
oured the country, and the whole country,
and their renown is of the treasures of the
whole country. Him, whose honoured name
the gentleman himself bears does he sup-
pose me less capable of gratitude for his
patriotism, or sympathy for his sufferings,
than if his eyes had first opened upon the
light in Massachusetts, instead of South
Carolina ? Sir, does he suppose it in his
power to exhibit a Carolina name so bright
as to produce envy in my bosom ? No, sir!
increased gratification and delight, rather.
Sir, I thank God that, if I am gifted with
little of the spirit which is said to be able
to raise mortals to the skies, I have yet
none, as I trust, of that other spirit which
would drag angels down.

When I shall be found, sir, in my place
here in the Senate, or elsewhere, to sneer at
public merit, because it happened to spring
up beyond the little limits of my own State
and neighbourhood ; when I refuse, for any
such cause, or for any cause, the homage
due to American talent, to elevated patriot-
ism, to sincere devotion to liberty and the
country ; or if I see an uncommon endow-
ment of heaven -if I see extraordinary ca-
pacity and virtue in any son of the South
and if moved by local prejudice, or gan-
grened by State jealousy, I get up here to
abate the tithe of a hair from his just char-
acter and just fame, may my tongue cleave j
to the roof of my mouth !



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