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something lurking in his eye which foretold a storm. Anxious to get him home before it burst forth, I pressed our departure, under the plea of another engagement; but, instead of having the desired effect, it precipitated what I had foreseen. With a haughty, supercilious look, he said: "I see what you are about, you hypocritical scoundrel! You canting, methodistical thief! Am I, Cook, to be controlled by such a would-be puritan as you? I'll teach you to dictate to a tragedian." Then taking off his coat, and holding his fist in a menacing attitude-" Come out," continued he "thou prince of deceivers; though thou hast faith to remove mountains, thou shalt not remove me-Come out, I say." With much difficulty he was pacified and resumed his coat. There was a large fire in the bar, before which stood, with his coat skirts under each arm, a pitiful imitation of buckism, very deficient in cleanliness and costume. His face was grimy, and his neckcloth of the same tint, which, nevertheless, was rolled in various folds about his throat; his hair was matted, and turned up under a round, greasy hat, with narrow brims, conceitedly placed on one side of the head, which noddled under it like a shaking mandarin. Thus equipped, the filthy fop straddled before the fire, which he completely monopolized. At length he caught the eye of our tragedian, who, in silent amazement, for the space of half a minute, examined him from top to toe; then turning to me, he burst into a horse laugh, and roared out, " Beau Nasty, by ."-Perhaps intimidated by Cook's former blustering, this insensible puppy took little notice; but I knew he would not stop here, and, indeed, I thought the stranger fair game. Cook now rose from his seat, and taking up the skirts of his coat, in imitation of the other, turned his back to the fire: "Warm work in the back settlements, sir," said he; then approaching still nearer, as if he had some secret to communicate, whispered, though loud enough for every one to hear: "Pray, sir, how is soap?"
"Yes, sir, soap: I understand it is coming down." "I am glad of it, sir."
"Indeed, sir, you have cause, if one may judge from your appearance." Here was a general laugh, which the stranger seemed not to regard, but nodding his head, and hitting his boots with a little rattan, rang the bell with an air of importance, and inquired "if he could have a weal kitlet, or a matton chip ?"
"What do you think," said Cook, "of a roasted puppy? because,” taking up the poker, I'll spit you, and roast you in a minute."
This had a visible effect on the dirty beau. He retreated towards the door, Cook following. "Avaunt, and quit my sight; thy face is dirty, and thy hands unwashed; avaunt! avaunt! I say." Then replacing the poker, and returning to his seat, he continued: "Being gone, I am a man again.”
It happened that Perrins, the noted pugilist, made one of the company this evening. He was a remarkable strong man, and possessed of great modesty and good nature. The last scene took such an effect on his imagination, that he laughed immoderately. Cook's attention was attracted, and turning towards him with his most bitter look-" What do you laugh at, Mr. Swabson? hey? why, you great lubber-headed thief, Johnson would have beat two of you! laugh at me! at Cook! come out, you scoundrel!!"
The coat was again pulled off, and putting himself in an attitude : "This is the arm that shall sacrifice you." Perrins was of a mild disposition,' and knowing Cook's character, made every allowance, and answered him only by a smile, till, aggravated by language and action the most gross, he very calmly took him in his arms, as though he had been a child, set him
down in the street, and bolted the door. The evening was wet, and our hero without coat or hat, unprepared to cope with it; but entreaty for admission was vain, and his application at the window unattended to. At length, grown desperate, he broke several panes, and inserting his head through the fracture, bore down all opposition by the following witticism: "Gentlemen, I have taken some pains to gain admission; pray let me in, for I see through my errour." The door was opened, dry clothes procured, and about one o'clock in the morning we sent him home in a coach.
LETTER FROM POMARE, KING OF OTAHEITE, TO THE MISSIONARY SOCIETY.
POMARE, the king of Otaheite, who has long been in the habit of visiting, and familiarly conversing with the British missionaries at Matavai, in that island, has assiduously applied himself, for a considerable time, under their direction, to attain the art of writing, which at length he has acquired.
A letter having been sent to Pomare, by the directors of the Missionary Society, the missionaries carefully translated it, and laid it before him. The following answer was composed entirely by himself, in the Taheitan language, and was then translated by the missionaries into English, which translation was copied by the king.
The annexed is an exact copy of his English letter, and may be considered as a literary curiosity.
Matavae, Otahete, Jan. 1st, 1807.
I wish you every blessing, friends, in your residence in your country, with success in teaching this bad land, this foolish land, this wicked land, this land which is ignorant of good, this land that knoweth not the true God, this regardless land.
Friends, I wish you health and prosperity: may I also live, and may Jehovah save us all.
Friends, with respect to your letter you wrote to me, I have this to say to you, that your business with me, and your wishes I fully consent to, and shall consequently banish Oro, and send him to Raeatea.
Friends, I do therefore believe and shall obey your word.
Friends, I hope you also will consent to my request, which is this: I wish you to send a great number of men, women, and children here.
Friends, send also property, and cloth for us, and we also will adopt English customs.
Friends, send also plenty of muskets and powder; for wars are frequent in our country. Should I be killed, you will have nothing in Tahete: do not come here when I am dead: Tahete is a regardless country, and should I die with sickness, do not come here. This also I wish, that you would send me all the curious things that you have in England. Also send me every thing necessary for writing. Paper, ink, and pens in abundance: let no writing utensil be wanting.
Friends, I have done, and have nothing at all more to ask you for. As for your desire to instruct Tahete, 'tis what I fully acquiesce in. Tis a common thing for people not to understand at first; but your object is good, and I fully consent to it, and shall cast off all evil customs.
What I say
Friends write to me, that I may know what you have to say.
I wish you life and every blessing. May I also live, and may Jehovah save us all.
POMARE, KING of Tahete.
For my friends, the Missionary Society, London.
Above we have inserted a letter from the king of Otaheite to the Missionary Society in London: we now present our readers with one of an carlier date to governour King, of Sidney. It is a curiosity highly worthy the attention of the philanthropist, who must admire, with secret satisfaction, the rudiments of literature and science thus diffused and cultivated in regions whose very existence, but a few years ago, was utterly unknown to the European world. The pleasure arising from such reflections will be enhanced, by considering, that British subjects have been the sole instruments in ef fecting these advances in civilisation, and its character, in this instance, has been consistently maintained; that instead of establishing its influence by usurpation and the sword, or fostering, under the shadow of the sacred doctrines of Heaven, latent schemes of ambition, the great objects in view have been attained by steadily inculcating benevolence and peace.
Eimeo, from the Harbour of Obuno, Dec. 9, 1804. From the friendship you showed to the late king, my father, and the expense the English have been at, in sending missionaries into these parts, for the improvement of myself and ignorant people, I am sure it will give you pleasure, to find it has not all been thrown away; as it has enabled me to address myself to you by letter, what I should have been incapable of but for those gentlemen-The purport of my letter is. to inform you that I am building a large schooner for the purpose of protecting myself and the English from a party of my rebellious subjects, who have frequently threatened me with war; for which vessel I am in want of two guns, a quadrant, and a compass; and, as I have no friends but the English, to you I apply, sir, those things; and in return will assist any English ship that should happen to call here, with every thing my country affords; or if you please, should your place be in want of pork, will give you hogs in return. I have the honour to be, sir, Yours most gratefully, POMARE, King.
DAVID'S GRAND PICTURE.
ON Monday, the 4th of January, 1808, their majesties paid a visit to M. David, to see his picture of the coronation. They were accompanied by several ladies of the palace, marshal Bessieres, M. Le Brun, several chamberlains and pages. Horse guards preceded and followed their carriages. In order to appreciate all the details of this visit, in which the emperour seemed to intend to do honour to the arts in the person of the first painter of the age, it is necessary to have before us the picture of M. David. It is thirty feet long and nineteen high. There are upwards of 200 figures as large as life.
Wishing, as much as possible, to represent in one single action the coronation of the emperour and empress, which, during the ceremony took place successively, the artist has chosen the moment in which the empe rour, after having placed on his own head, one after the other, two crowns, has taken the second, and, raising it, is in the act of placing it on the head of his august empress. The two principal figures occupy the centre of the picture. The emperour is standing on one of the steps of the altar.-The
empress is on her knees, her hands clasped, and raised towards her sovereign, in token of her gratitude and respect. This fine figure has all the dignity which the subject could require, and all the nobleness and grace of the original. On the right, and before the altar, is the pope sitting, cardinal Fesch, grand almoner; other cardinals, an archbishop, a great number of Italian and French bishops, the arch-chancellor, the arch-treasurer the prince of Neufchatel the viceroy of Italy, the grand equerry, the prince of Ponte Corvo; further off, prince Murat, marshals Moncey, Serrurier, Bessieres, and the grand master of the ceremonies, are grouped near his holiness, and surround the altar. On the left, near the empress, are the sisters of the emperour, the queen of Naples, the queen of Holland, the kings, his majesty's brothers, marshals Lefebvre, Perignon, Kellerman, several ladies of honour, and the chamberlain of the princesses. In front in a box, are madame, the emperour's mother, her ladies of honour and officers of her household; and towards the bottom, some persons eminent for their talents. In an adjoining box are the foreign ambassadours
As soon as his majesty looked at the picture, he said: "How delightful! What relief in all the pictures! How beautiful! What truth!-It is not a painting-it is real life "-His majesty then looked at the box in the middle, and immediately recognised his mother, afterwards madame Soult, madame de Fontanges, de Lovelle, and general Beaumont."I see at a distance good Mr. Vien."-Yes, sire (replied M. David) I wished to do homage to my master, by placing him in a picture which, for its object, will be the most important of my works. The sentiment was approved of by his majesty, who appeared to take pleasure in proving to M. David that he recog nised all the persons in the picture. His attention was next directed to the group in which he is represented as on the point of crowning the empress. He expressed his satisfaction in these words: "The time is well chosen ; the action well described; and each of the figures extremely good."- The empress agreed with the emperour.
The emperour remained much longer before the picture; praised the different parts and the whole. The day, however, declining, his majesty, as he was on the point of departing, stopped a moment before the artist, pulled off his hat, and expressed those sentiments of benevolence which he evinces for all great talents.—[Moniteur.]
Thursday, December 1, 1808, a New Drama, called Venoni, or the Novice of St. Mark, from the pen of Mr. Monk Lewis, was performed for the first time.
Fable. Venoni, a young Sicilian nobleman, was on the point of marriage with Josepha, when her parents were obliged to visit the court of Naples. During their absence, Josepha was placed in a convent, where, it was reported, she shortly after sickened and died. Grief for her loss for a time robbed Venoni of his senses; and on his recovery he entered the monastery of St. Mark, which was only separated by a party-wall from the convent of the Ursulines, in which Josepha was said to have expired. At this period the piece commences. Venoni is on the eve of pronouncing his vows, when father Michael gives him a letter from the abbess to the prior of St. Mark, which explains that Celestino, the prior, had failed in an attempt upon Josepha's virtue, and that her removal from the world had been thought necessary, to prevent her divulging to her parents the infamous
conduct of the abbess and her confederate.
Blinded by fury, Venoni shows this letter to the prior, who says to his holy brethren: "We are all discovered." In consequence, Venoni is prevented from leaving the monastery, and confined in a subterraneous dungeon, where the preceding victim of Celestino's rage died,* after having been confined twenty years, and which the prior believes to be unknown to all except himself and his accomplices : but father Michael having suspected the existence of such a dungeon, has traced out the way to it, and hastens to apprize the viceroy. In the meanwhile, Venoni, in endeavouring to escape from his prison, knocks down the party-wall, and thus breaks into the adjoining convent, and discovers his mistress, likewise in a dungeon, who had not been put to death, but closely confined; and the deliverance of both is shortly after produced by the arrival of father Michael, with the viceroy and Josepha's parents.
Dangle-Excellent, i'faith!-But won't this appear rather improbable ?
Puff-To be sure it will; but, what the plague! a play is not to show occurrences that happen every day; but things just so strange, that though they never did, they might have happened!-SHERIDAN.
Notwithstanding this authority, we cannot help avowing, that we think the incidents of this play never did, or are ever likely to happen. There is such a mixture of horrour and improbability about them that defies even all credibility; for who can believe that Celestino, the prior of St. Mark, could live on such terms of intimacy and friendship, as he is represented to do, with the marchioness of Caprara, while he is keeping her daughter Josepha, during the period of twelve months, in a tremendously horrid subterraneous cave, lighted only by the melancholy glimmer of a sorry lamp, because she would not consent to his libidinous passion; at the same time cajoling her mother and all her friends, with the tale that she was dead and buried, in the convent of the Ursulines, in which her relations had placed her!-But this burying alive is not all: we have insanity and murder to boot, insomuch that our author again, as Shakspeare says, waxes desperate with imagination," as he was wont to do in the MONK, and his other gloomy and most extravagant productions. His predilection for caverns, ghosts, blacks, and other strange auxiliaries to his muse, had fortified us in the expectation of witnessing something not to be met with every day, either in castle, cloister, or prison; but, notwithstanding this, the denouement of Venoni is so horrid and improbable, and the pantomime atrocity so very glaring, that it excited the universal disgust of the audience; and, like them, we more than once wished the curtain would fall to relieve us from terrours no one could give credit to.
The noise and confusion was so great at the latter end of the piece, that we could not by any means discover what became of the prior and his holy brotherhood, who were all represented to be villains alike, in compliment, we suppose, to the reigning sentiment lately in vogue in France (that all priests are rogues) whence this piece derives its origin. It is taken from the French drama entitled Les Victimes Cloitrées, which was performed at
*On the recital of the fate of this victim to the rage of Celestino, we certainly expected something very terrible to follow, from the author's well known taste for the terrifick and marvellous. In truth, we began to pity the audience, and the lines of the poet, describing a dead man and another audience, immediately came into our recollection.