equally mindful of the deference to be paid to this House. The petitioner states, amongst other matter of equal, if not greater importance, to all who are British in their feelings, as well as blood and birth, that on the 21st January, 1813, at Huddersfield, bimself and six other persons, who, on hearing of his arrival, had waited on him merely as a testimony of respect, were seized by a military and civil force, and kept in close custody for several hours, subjected to gross and abusive insinuation from the commanding officer, relative to the character of the petitioner; that he (the hopes to build his own. So grateful must oppression of the Catholics be to his mind, that doubtless (as he has lately permitted some renewal of intercourse) the next cartel will convey to this country cargoes of Sèvreschina and blue ribands (things in great request, and of equal value at this moment), blue ribands of the legion of honour for Dr Duigenan and his ministerial disciples. Such is that well-earned popularity, the result of those extraordinary expeditions, so expensive to ourselves, and so useless to our allies; of those singular inquiries, so exculpatory to the accused, and so dissatisfactory to the people; of those paradoxical victories, so honour-petitioner) was finally carried before a magistrate : and able, as we are told, to the British name, and so destructive to the best interests of the British nation: above all, such is the reward of a conduct pursued by ministers towards the Catholics. I have to apologise to the House, who will, I trust, pardon one, not often in the habit of intruding upon their indulgence, for so long attempting to engage their attention. My most decided opinion is, as my vote will be, in favour of the motion. not released till an examination of his papers proved that there was not only no just, but not even statutable charge against him; and that, notwithstanding the promise and order from the presiding magistrates of a copy of the warrant against your petitioner, it was afterwards withheld on divers pretexts, and has never until this hour been granted. The names and condition of the parties will be found in the petition. To the other topics touched upon in the petition, I shall not now advert, from a wish not to encroach upon the time of the House; but I do most sincerely call the at DEBATE ON MAJOR CARTWRIGHT'S PETITION. tention of your Lordships to its general contents-it is JUNE 1, 1813. LORD BYRON rose and said: MY LORDS, the Petition which I now hold for the purpose of presenting to the House, is one which I humbly conceive requires the particular attention of your lordships, inasmuch as, though signed but by a single individual, it contains statements which (if not disproved) demand most serious investigation. The grievance of which the petitioner complains, is neither selfish nor imaginary. It is not his own only, for it has been, and is still felt by numbers. No one without these walls, nor indeed within, but may to-morrow be made liable to the same insult and obstruction, in the discharge of an imperious duty for the restoration of the true constitution of these realms by petitioning for reform in parliament. The petitioner, my Lords, is a man whose long life has been spent in one unceasing struggle for the liberty of the subject, against that undue influence which has increased, is increasing, and ought to be diminished; and whatever difference of opinion may exist as to his political tenets, few will be fouud to question the integrity of his intentions. Even now oppressed with years, and not exempt from the infirmities attendant on his age, but still unimpaired in talent, and unshaken in spirit—« frangas non flectes»— he has received many a wound in the combat against corruption; and the new grievance, the fresh insult of which he complains, may inflict another scar, but no dishonour. The petition is signed by John Cartwright, and it was in behalf of the people and parliament, in the lawful pursuit of that reform in the representation which is the best service to be rendered both to parliament and people, that he encountered the wanton outrage which forms the subject matter of his petition to your lordships. It is couched in firm, yet respectful language in the language of a man, not regardless of what is due to himself, but at the same time, I trust, in the cause of the parliament and people that the rights of this venerable freeman have been violated, and it is, in my opinion, the highest mark of respect that could be paid to the House, that to your justice, rather than by appeal to any inferior court, he now commits himself. Whatever may be the fate of his remonstrance, it is some satisfaction to me, though mixed with regret for the occasion, that I have this opportunity of publicly stating the obstruction to which the subject is liable, in the prosecution of the most lawful and imperious of his duties, the obtaining by petition reform in parliament. I have shortly stated his complaint; the petitioner has more fully expressed it. | Your lordships will, I hope, adopt some measure fully to protect and redress him, and not him alone, but the whole body of the people insulted and aggrieved in his person, by the interposition of an abused civil, and unlawful military force between them and their right of petition to their own representatives. His lordship then presented the petition from Major Cartwright, which was read, complaining of the circumstances at Huddersfield, and of interruptions given to the right of petitioning, in several places in the northern parts of the kingdom, and which his ' lordship moved should be laid on the table. Several Lords having spoken on the question, LORD BYRON replied, that he had, from motives of duty, presented this petition to their lordships' cossideration. The noble Earl had contended that it was not a petition but a speech; and that, as it contained no prayer, it should not be received. What was the necessity of a prayer? If that word were to be used in its proper sense, their lordships could not expect that any man should pray to others. Be had only to say that the petition, though in some parts expressed strongly perhaps, did not contain any improper mode of ad- | dress, but was couched in respectful language towards | their lordships; he should therefore trust their lordships would allow the petition to be received. Don Juan. Difficile est proprie communia dicere.. IIOR. Epist. ad Pison. Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more Cakes and Ale-Yes, by St Anne; and Ginger shall be hot i' the mouth, too!-Twelfth Night: or What you Will..-SHAKSPEARE. VI. CANTO I. I. I WANT a hero: an uncommon want, When every year and month sends forth a new one, Till, after cloying the gazettes with cant, The age discovers he is not the true one; I'll therefore take our ancient friend Don Juan; II. Vernon, the butcher Cumberland, Wolfe, Hawke, Prince Ferdinand, Granby, Burgoyne, Keppel, Howe, Evil and good, have had their tithe of talk, And fill'd their sign-posts then, like Wellesley now; Each in their turn like Banquo's monarchs stalk, Followers of fame, « nine farrow» of that sow: France, too, had Buonaparté and Dumourier, Recorded in the Moniteur and Courier. III. Barnave, Brissot, Condorcet, Mirabeau, Petion, Clootz, Danton, Marat, La Fayette, Exceedingly remarkable at times, IV. Nelson was once Britannia's god of war, And still should be so, but the tide is turn'd; There's no more to be said of Trafalgar, 'T is with our hero quietly inurn'd; Because the army's grown more popular, At which the naval people are concern'd: Besides, the prince is all for the land-service, Forgetting Duncan, Nelson, Howe, and Jervis, V. Brave men were living before Agamemnon,' And since exceeding valorous and sage, A good deal like him too, though quite the same none; But then they shone not on the poet's page, And so have been forgotten :-I condemn none, But can't find any in the present age Fit for my poem (that is, for my new one); Most epic poets plunge in « medias res»> Beside his mistress in some soft abode, Palace or garden, paradise, or cavern, That is the usual method, but not mine- Forbids all wandering as the worst of sinning, And therefore I shall open with a line (Although it cost me half an hour in spinning) Narrating somewhat of Don Juan's father, And also of his mother, if you'd rather. VIII. In Seville was he born, a pleasant city, Famous for oranges and women-he His father's name was Jósc-Don, of course, Or being mounted, e'er got down again, His mother was a learned lady, famed For every branch of every science known- With virtues equall'd by her wit alone, Her memory was a mine: she knew by heart All Calderon and greater part of Lopé, So that if any actor miss'd his part She could have served him for the prompter's copy; For her Feinagle's were an useless art, And he himself obliged to shut up shop-he Could never make a memory so fine as That which adorn'd the brain of Donna Inez. XII. Her favourite science was the mathematical, She knew the Latin-that is, « the Lord's prayer,» At least her conversation was obscure; XIV. She liked the English and the Hebrew tongue, But I must leave the proofs to those who've seen 'em; But this I heard her say, and can't be wrong, And all may think which way their judgments lean 'em, «T is strange-the Hebrew noun which means '1 am,' The English always use to govern d—n.» XV. XVI. In short, she was a walking calculation, Miss Edgeworth's novels stepping from their covers, Or Mrs Trimmer's books on education, Or « Colebs' Wife» set out in quest of lovers, Morality's prim personification, In which not Envy's self a flaw discovers; To others' share let «female errors fall,» For she had not even one-the worst of all. XVII. Oh! she was perfect past all parallel Of any modern female saint's comparison; So far above the cunning powers of hell, Her guardian angel had given up his garrison; Even her minutest motions went as well As those of the best time-piece made by Harrison : In virtues nothing earthly could surpass her, Save thine «< incomparable oil,» Macassar! XVIII. Perfect she was, but as perfection is Till they were exiled from their earlier bowers, (I wonder how they got through the twelve hours), Don Jose, like a lineal son of Eve, Went plucking various fruit without her leave. XIX. He was a mortal of the careless kind, With no great love for learning, or the learn'd, To see a kingdom or a house o'erturn'd, Now Donna Inez had with all her merit, And sometimes mix'd up fancies with realities, And let few opportunities escape Of getting her liege lord into a scrape. XXI. This was an easy matter with a man Oft in the wrong, and never on his guard; And even the wisest, do the best they can, Have moments, hours, and days, so unprepared, That you might «brain them with their lady's fan,And sometimes ladies hit exceeding hard, And fans turn into falchions in fair hands, And why and wherefore no one understands. XXII: T is pity learned virgins ever wed With persons of no sort of education, I don't choose to say much upon this head, Don Jose and his lady quarrell'd—why, But if there's any thing in which I shine, XXIV. And so I interfered, and with the best Intentions, but their treatment was not kind; I think the foolish people were possess'd, For neither of them could I ever find, Although their porter afterwards confess'd-But that's no matter, and the worst's behind, For little Juan o'er me threw, down stairs, A pail of housemaid's water unawares. XXV. A little curly-headed, good-for-nothing, XXVI. Don Jose and the Donna Inez led For sometime an unhappy sort of life, Wishing each other, not divorced, but dead; They lived respectably as man and wife, Their conduct was exceedingly well-bred, And gave no outward signs of inward strife, Until at length the smother'd fire broke out, And put the business past all kind of doubt. XXVII. For Inez call'd some druggists and physicians, And tried to prove her loving lord was mad, But as he had some lucid intermissions, She next decided he was only bad; Yet when they ask'd her for her depositions, No sort of explanation could be had, Save that her duty both to man and God Required this conduct—which seem'd very odd. XXVIII. She kept a journal, where his faults were noted, And then this best and meekest woman bore Who saw their spouses kill'd, and nobly chose Calmly she heard each calumny that rose, And saw his agonies with such sublimity, That all the world exclaim'd, « What magnanimity!>> XXX. XXXIII. He died and most unluckily, because, (Although their talk 's obscure and circumspect), XXXIV. But ah! he died! and buried with him lay XXXV. Yet Jóse was an honourable man, That I must say, who knew him very well; Whate'er might be his worthlessness or worth, It was a trying moment that which found him Where all his household gods lay shiver'd round him ; No choice was left his feelings or his pride Save death or Doctors' Commons-so he died. XXXVII. No doubt, this patience, when the world is damning us, Dying intestate, Juan was sole heir Is philosophie in our former friends; XXXI. And if our quarrels should rip up old stories, By contrast, which is what we just were wishing all: XXXII. Their friends had tried at reconciliation, Then their relations, who made matters worse ("T were hard to tell upon a like occasion To whom it may be best to have recourseI can't say much for friend or yet relation): The lawyers did their utmost for divorce, But scarce a fee was paid on either side Before, unluckily, Don Jose died. To a chancery suit, and messuages, and lands, Promised to turn out well in proper hands: Sagest of women, even of widows, she Resolved that Juan should be quite a paragon, And worthy of the noblest pedigree (His sire was of Castile, his dam from Arragon): Then for accomplishments of chivalry, In case our lord the king should go to war again, He learn'd the arts of riding, fencing, gunnery, And how to scale a fortress-or a nunnery. XXXIX. But that which Donna Inez most desired, And so they were submitted first to her, all, XL. The languages, especially the dead, The sciences, and most of all the abstruse, The arts, at least all such as could be said To be the most remote from common use, In all these he was much and deeply read; But not a page of any thing that 's loose, Or hints continuation of the species, Was ever suffer'd, lest he should grow vicious. XLI. His classic studies made a little puzzle, Because of filthy loves of gods and goddesses, Who in the earlier ages raised a bustle, But never put on pantaloons or bodices; His reverend tutors had at times a tussle, And for their Æneids, Iliads and Odysseys, Were forced to make an odd sort of apology, For Donna Inez dreaded the mythology. XLII. Ovid's a rake, as half his verses show him; I don't think Sappho's Ode a good example, Where the sublime soars forth on wings more ample; But Virgil's songs are pure, except that horrid one Beginning with « Formosum pastor Corydon.» XLIII. Lucretius' irreligion is too strong For early stomachs, to prove wholesome food; I can't help thinking Juvenal was wrong, Although no doubt his real intent was good, For speaking out so plainly in his song, So much indeed as to be downright rude; And then what proper person can be partial To all those nauseous epigrams of Martial? XLIV. Juan was taught from out the best edition, XLV. For there we have them all << at one fell swoop,» To call them back'into their separate cages, The Missal too (it was the family Missal) Was ornamented in a sort of way Which ancient mass books often are, and this all Kinds of grotesques illumined; and how they Who saw those figures on the margin kiss all, Could turn their optics to the text and pray Is more than I know-but Don Juan's mother Kept this herself, and gave her son another. XLVII. Sermons he read, and lectures he endured, He did not take such studies for restraints: This, too, was a seal'd book to little Juan- She scarcely trusted him from out her sight; XLIX. Young Juan wax'd in goodliness and grace: As e'er to man's maturer growth was given : And seem'd, at least, in the right road to heaven; For half his days were pass'd at church, the other Between his tutors, confessor, and mother. L. At six, I said he was a charming child, They tamed him down amongst them: to destroy His natural spirit not in vain they toil'd, At least it seem'd so ; and his mother's joy Was to declare how sage and still, and steady, Her young philosopher was grown already. LI. I had my doubts, perhaps I have them still, But what I say is neither here nor there; I knew his father well, and have some skill In character-but it would not be fair From sire to son to augur good or ill: He and his wife were an ill-sorted pairBut scandal 's my aversion-I protest Against all evil speaking, even in jest. LII. For my part I say nothing-nothing-but To school (as God be praised that I have none) For there one learns-'tis not for me to boast, As well as all the Greek I since have lost : I say that there's the place-but « Verbum sat.» I think I pick'd up, too, as well as most, Knowledge of matters-but, no matter whatI never married-but I think, I know, That sons should not be educated so. |