The Blues :

A LITERARY ECLOGUE."

" Nimium ne crede colori." - VIRGIL.
O trust not, ye beautiful creatures, to hue,
Though your hair were as red us your stockings are blue.

Ink.
ECLOGUE FIRST. ?

Hold, my good friend, do you know

Whom you speak to ?
London - Before the Door of a Lecture Room. Tra. Right well, boy, and so does “ the Row:"4

You're an author - a poet -
Enter Tracy, meeting InKEL.

Ink.

And think you that I
Ink. You 're too late.

Can stand tamely in silence to hear you decry
Tra.
Is it over ?

The Muses ?
Ink.

Nor will be this hour. Tra. Excuse me: I meant no offence
But the benches are cramm'd, like a garden in flower, To the Nine; though the number who make some
With the pride of our belles, who have made it the

pretence
fashion ;

(passion" To their favours is such - but the subject to drop, So, instead of “ beaux arts," we may say « la belle I am just piping hot from a publisher's shop, For learning, which lately has taken the lead in (Next door to the pastry-cook's; so that when I The world, and set all the fine gentlemen reading. Cannot find the new volume I wanted to buy Tra. I know it too well, and have worn out my On the bibliopole's shelves, it is only two paces, patience

As one finds every author in one of those places ;) With studying to study your new publications. Where I just had been skimming a charming critique, There's Vamp, Scamp, and Mouthy, and Wordswords So studded with wit, and so sprinkled with Greck! and Co. 3

Where your friend - you know who — has just got With their damnable

such a threshing,

Ta'en in such cruel sort, as grieves me still :
Love, that denial takes from none beloved,
Caught me with pleasing hiin so passing well,
That, as thou seest, he yet deserts me not.
Love brought us to one death: Caina waits
The soul, who spilt our life.', Such were their words ;
At hearing which downward I bent my looks,
And held them there so long, that the Bard cried :

What art thou pondering? I in answer thus:
* Alas! by what sweet thoughts, what fond desire,
Must they at length to that ill pass have reach'd!'

" Then turning, I to them my speech address'd,
And thus began: • Francesca ! your sad fate
Even to tears my grief and pity moves.
But tell me ; in the time of your sweet sighs,
By what, and how Love granted, that ye knew
Your yet uncertain wishes ?' She replied:
No greater griet' than to remember days
Of joy, when misery is at hand. That kens
Thy Icarn'd instructor. Yet so eagerly
If thou art beut to know the primal root
From whence our love gat being, I will do
As one, who weeps and tells his tale.

One day,
For our delight, we read of Lancelot,
How him love thrall'd. Alone we were, and no
Suspicion near us. Oittimes by that reading
Our eyes were drawn together, and the hue
Fled from our alter'd cheek. But at one point
Alone we fell. When of that smile we read,
The wished smile, so rapturously kiss'd
By one so deep in love, then he, who ne'er
Froin me shall separate, at once my lips
All trembling kiss d. The book and writer both
Were love's purveyors:

In its leaves that day
We road no more.' While thus one spirit spake,
The other wail'd so sorely, that heart-struck,
I, through compassion fainting, seem'd not far

From death, and like a corse fell to the ground."
The story of Francesca and Paolo is a great favourite with
the Italians. It is noticed by all the historians of Ravenna.
Petrarch introduces it, in his Trionfi d' Amorc, among his
exa'nples of calamitous passion; and Tassoni, in his Secchia
Rapita, represents Paolo Malatesta as leading the troops of
Rimini, anel describes him, when mounted on his charger,
a contemplating a golden sword-chain, presented to him by
Francesca:

" Rimini vien con la bandiera sesta,

Guida mille cavalli, e mille fanti

Halli donata al dispartir Francesca
L'aurea catena, a cui la spada appende.
La vi mirando al misero, e rinfresca
Quel foco ognor, che l'anima gli accende,

Quanto cerca fuggir, tanto s' invesca."
To him Francesca gave the golden chain

At parting-time, from which his sword was hung;
The wretched lover gazed at it with pain,

Adding new pangs to those his heart had wrung; The more he sought to fly the luscious bane,

The firmer he was bound, the deeper stung."] (This trifle, which Lord Byron has himself designated as a “mere buffoonery, never meant for publication," was written in 1820, and first appeared in “ The Liberal.” The personal allusions in which it abounds are, for the most part, sutficiently intelligible ; and, with a few exceptions, so goodhumoured, that the parties concerned may be expected to join in the laugh.)

2 (" About the year 1781, it was much the fashion for several ladies to have evening assemblies, where the fair sex might participate in conversation with literary and ingenious men, animated by a desire to please. These societies were denominated Blue-stocking Clubs; the origin of which title being little known, it may be worth while to relate it. One of the most eminent members of those societies, when they first commenced, was Mr. Stillingfieet, whose dress was remarkably grave, and in particular it was observed that he wore blue stockings. Such was the excellence of his conversation, that his absence was felt as so great a loss, that it used to be said,. We can do nothing without the blue stockings ;' and thus by degrees the title was established." - Boswell, vol. riii. p. 86. Sir William Forbes, in his Life of Dr. Beattie, says, ihat " a foreigner of distinction hearing the expression, translated it literally, · Bas Bleu,' hy which these ineetings came to be distinguished. Miss Hannah More, who was herself a member, has written a poem with the title of · Bas Bleu,' in allusion to this mistake of the foreigner, in which she has characterised most of the eminent personages of which it was composed.")

3 (See the stanzas on Messrs. Wordsworth and Southey in Don Juan, canto iü.)

. (Paternoster-row – long and still celebrated as a very bazair of booksellers. Sir Walter Scott " hitches into rhyme" one of the most important firms – that

" Of Longman, Ilurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown,

Our fathers of the Row.")

一

That it is, as the phrase goes, extremely “refreshing." i Ink.

Say rather an angle, What a beautiful word !

If you and she marry, you 'll certainly wrangle. ? Ink.

Very true; 't is so soft I say she's a Blue, man, as blue as the ether. And so cooling - they use it a little too oft ;

Tra. And is that any cause for not coming And the papers have got it at last but no matter.

together? So they've cut up our friend then ?

Ink. Humph! I can't say I know any happy alliance Tra.

Not left him a tatter - Which has lately sprung up from a wedlock with Not a rag of his present or past reputation,

science. Which they call a disgrace to the age and the nation. She's so learned in all things, and fond of concerning Ink. I'm sorry to hear this! for friendship, you Herself in all matters connected with learning, know

(so. That Our poor friend !- but I thought it would terminate Tra.

What ? Our friendship is such, I'll read nothing to shock it.

Ink. I perhaps may as well hold my tongue ; You don't happen to have the Review in your pocket? But there's five hundred people can tell you you 're Tra. No; I left a round dozen of authors and others

wrong. (Very sorry, no doubt, since the cause is a brother's) Tra. You forget Lady Lilac's as rich as a Jew. All scrambling and jostling, like so many iinps,

Ink. Is it miss or the cash of mamma you pursue ? And on fire with impatience to get the next glimpse. Tra. Why, Jack, I'll be frank with you—something Ink. Let us join them.

The girl's a fine girl.

(of both. Tra, What, won't you return to the lecture ? Ink.

And you feel nothing loth Ink. Why, the place is so cramm'd, there's not To her good lady-mother's reversion; and yet room for a spectre.

Her life is as good as your own, I will bet. Besides, our friend Scamp is to day so absurd

Tra. Let her live, and as long as she likes; I Tra. How can you know that till you hear him?

demand

(hand. Ink,

I heard | Nothing more than the heart of her daughter and Quite enough; and, to tell you the truth, my retreat Ink. Why, that heart's in the inkstand—that hand Was from his vile nonsense, no less than the heat.

on the pen. Tra. I have had no great loss then ?

Tra. A propos — Will you write me a song now Inh. Loss ! — such a palaver!

and then ? I'd inoculate sooner my wife with the slaver

Ink, To what purpose ? Of a dog when gone rabid, than listen two hours

Tra. You know, my dear friend, that in prose To the torrent of trash which around him he pours, My talent is decent, as far as it goes; Pump'd up with such effort, disgorged with such labour, But in rhyme That - come do not make me speak ill of one's Ink,

You 're a terrible stick, to be sure. neighbour.

Tra. I own it; and yet, in these times, there's no Tra. I make you !

lure Ink.

Yes, you! I said nothing until For the heart of the fair like a stanza or two; You compelld me, by speaking the truth

And so, as I can't, will you furnish a few ? Tra.

To speak ill? Ink. In your name ? Is that your deduction ?

Tra. In my name. I will copy them out, Ink.

When speaking of Scamp ill, To slip into her hand at the very next rout. I certainly follow, not set an example.

Ink. Are you so far advanced as to hazard this? The fellow's a fool, an impostor, a zany.

Tra.

Why, Tra. And the crowd of to-day shows that one fool Do you think me subdued by a Blue-stocking's eye, makes many.

So far as to tremble to tell her in rhyme But we two will be wise.

What I've told her in prose, at the least, as sublime ? Ink.

Pray, then, let us retire. Ink. As sublime! If it be so, no need of my Muse. Tra. I would, but

Tra. But consider, dear Inkel, she's one of the Ink. There must be attraction much higher

“ Blues.” Than Scamp, or the Jews' harp he nicknames his lyre, Ink. As sublime !-Mr. Tracy-I've nothing to say. To call you to this hotbed.

Stick to prose — As sublime !!— but I wish you good Tra. I own it-'tis truc

day.

(wrong; A fair lady

Tra. Nay, stay, my dear fellow - consider-I'm
Ink.
A spinster ?

I own it; but, prithee, compose me the song.
Tra.
Miss Lilac !

Ink. As sublime !!
Ink.

The Blue ! Tra.

I but used the expression in haste. The heiress ?

Ink. That may be, Mr. Tracy, but shows damn'd Tra. The angel !

bad taste. Ink.

The devil ! why, man! Tra. I own it- I know it - acknowledge it--what Pray get out of this hobble as fast as you can.

Can I say to you more ? You wed with Miss Lilac! 't would be your perdition: Ink.

I see what you'd be at: She's a poet, a chymist, a mathematician.

You disparage my parts with insidious abuse, (use. Tra. I say she 's an angel.

Till you think you can turn them best to your own

(This cant phrase was first used in the Edinburgh Review – probably by Mr. Jeffrey.) ? (" Her farourite science was the mathematical

In short she was a walking calculation,

Miss Edgeworth's norels stepping from their covers,
Morality's prim personification
But - oh! ye lords of ladies intellectual,
Inform us truly, have they not hen-peck'd you all ?"

Don Juan, Canto i.j Tra. And is that not a sign I respect them ?

Ink.

That's clear. Ink.

Why that But for God's sake let's go, or the Bore will be here.
To be sure makes a difference.

Come, come : nay,
I'm off.

[Exit IXKEL.
Tra.
I know what is what: Tra.

You are right, and I'll follow; And you,

who're a man of the gay world, no less 'Tis high time for a " Sic me servavit Apollo."4 Than a poct of t'other, may easily guess

And yet we shall have the whole crew on our kibes, That I never could mean, by a word, to offend Blues, dandies, and dowagers, and second-hand scribes, A genius like you, and moreover my friend.

All flocking to moisten their exquisite throttles Ink. No doubt; you by this time should know With a glass of Madeira at Lady Bluebottle's. what is due

[Erit Tracy.
To a man of but come let us shake hands.
Tra.

You knew,
And you know, my dear fellow, how hcartily I,
Whatever you publish, am ready to buy.

ECLOGUE SECOND.

{for sale,
Ink. That's my bookseller's business; I care not An Apurtment in the House of Lady BLUEBOTTLE
Indeed the best poems at first rather fail.

A Table prepared.
There were Renegade's epics, and Botherby's plays,

Sir Richard BLUEBOTTLE solus.
And my own grand romance
Tra.
Had its full share of praise.

Was there ever a man who was married so sorry ?
I myself saw it puffd in the “ Old Girl's Review.”. Like a fool, I must needs do the thing in a hurry.
Ink. What Review ?

[Trevoux;"3 My life is reversed, and my quiet destroy'd ; • Tra.

'Tis the English “ Journal de My days, which once pass'd in so gentle a void, A clerical work of our jesuits at home.

Must now, every hour of the twelve, be employ'd :
Have you never yet seen it?

The twelve, do I say? - of the whole twenty-four,
Ink,
That pleasure's to come.

Is there one which I dare call my own any more ?
Tra. Make haste then.

What with driving and visiting, dancing and dining,
Ink.
Why so ?

What with learning, and teaching, and scribbling,
Tra.
I have heard people say

and shining
That it threatend to give up the ghost t'other day. In science and art, I'll be cursed if I know
Ink. Well, that is a sign of some spirit.

Myself from my wife ; for although we are two,
Tra.

No doubt. Yet she somehow contrives that all things shall be done
Shall you be at the Countess of Fiddlecome's rout ? In a style which proclaims us eternally one.
Ink. I've a card, and shall go: but at present, as But the thing of all things which distresses me more
soon

[the moon Than the bills of the week (though they trouble me As friend Scamp shall be pleased to step down from

sore),
(Where he seeins to be soaring in search of his wits), Is the numerous, humourous, backbiting crew
And an interval grants from his lecturing fits,

Of scribblers, wits, lecturers, white, black, and blue,
I'm engaged to the Lady Bluebottle's collation, Who are brought to my house as an inn, to my cost
To partake of a luncheon and learn'd conversation : For the bill here, it seems, is defray'd by the host -
'Tis a sort of re-union for Scamp, on the days

No pleasure ! no leisure! no thought for my pains, Of his lecture, to treat him with cold tongue and But to hear a vile jargon which addles my brains : praise.

A smatter and chatter, glean'd out of reviews,
And I own, for my own part, that 't is not unpleasant. By the rag, tag, and bobtail, of those they call “BLUES; ”
Will you go? There's Miss Lilac will also be present. A rabble who know not-But soft, here they come !
Tra. That “ metal's attractive."

Would to God I were deaf ! as I'm not, I'll be dumb.
Inh.

No doubt - to the pocket.
Tra. You should rather encourage my passion than

Enter LADY BLUEBOTTLE, Miss LulaC, LADY BLUEshock it.

MOUNT, MR. BOTHERBY, INKEL, Tracy, Miss But let us proceed; for I think, by the hum

MAZARINE, and others, with Scade the Lecturer, Ink. Very true ; let us go, then, before they can

&c. &c. come,

Lady Bluel. Ah! Sir Richard, good morning;
Or else we'll be kept here an hour at their levy,

I've brought you soine friends.
On the rack of cross questions, by all the blue bevy. Sir Rich. (bows, and afterwards aside.) If friends,
Hark! Zounds, they 'll be on us; I know by the drone

they 're the first.
Of old Botherby's spouting ex-cathedrà tone.

Lady Blieb.

But the luncheon attends.
Ay! there he is at it. Poor Scamp! better join I pray ye be scated, “ sans cérémonie."
Your fricnds, or he 'll pay you back in your own coin. Mr. Scamp, you 're fatigued; take your chair there,
Tra. All fair; 't is but lecture for lecture.

next me.

[ They all sit.

(Messrs. Southey and Sotheby.]
? ("* My Grandmother's Review, the British." This heavy
journal has since been gathered to its grandinothers.]

3 [The “ Journal de Trevoux"(in fifty-six volumes) is one
of the most curious collections of literary gossip in the world,
- and the Poet paid the British Review an extravagant com-
pliment, when hic made this comparison.)

* (" Sothehy is a good man - rhymes well (if not wisely); but is a borc. He seizes you by the button. One night of a rout at Mrs. Ilope's, he had fastened upon me – (something alout Agamemnon, or Orestes, or sore of his plays) nuta

withstanding my symptoms of manifest distress - (for I was in love, and just nicked a minute when neither mothers, nor husbands, nor rivals, nor gossips were near my then idol, who was beautiful as the statues of the gallery where we stood at the time. Sotheby, I say, had seized upon inc lry the button and the heart-strings, and spared neither. Wil. liam Spencer, who likes fun, and don't dislike mischief, saw my case, and coming up to us both, took me by the hand, and rathetically bade me farewell ; for' said hic, I see it is all over with you.' Sotheby then went his way : 'sic me servavit Apollo.'” - Byron Diary, 1821.)