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See hapless Portugal, who thought
BUONAPARTE'S LATE SPEECH
TO THE LEGISLATIVE BODY.
[From the Morning Post, July 4]
OOD Gentlemen Deputies, as you besought me,
For the Tarquin in clouts which my other Wife brought me,
Yet the Church is the thing that I care most about,
To this scandal I'll now put an end in a jerk,
The scandal was over, when first I turn'd Turk;
Since old Dad has a place at Paris and Rome;
He will make Christianity's Centre his home,
Though Holland I fix'd in a sovereign station
But England, of me and my Commerce afraid,
fair means or foul, as a foe or a friend,
America labours on ocean to shine;
And faith I will second the Yankees;
The English they bring all the passions in play,
And here is Don Joseph, the true King of Spain,
For, since into Rome I've transmogrified France,
And when she is ready to tumble asunder,
THE PAINS OF A PARTY OF PLEASURE.
14 AM greatly mistaken, if, in stating the difference between the English and French modes of living, it was not agreed by all travellers, that the French are total strangers to what we call comfort-either in their houses or their parties. The distinguishing characteristic of an Englishman's happiness was, not that excess of joy and animation which is peculiar to our more lively neighbours; but, in all his pleasures, his highest gratification was a species of comfort and of snugness connected with his notions of liberty, and excluding every idea of constraint and inconvenience. Englishmen,
Englishmen, in their parties, delighted in that unconcerned species of relaxation in which the body, as well as the mind, was at perfect ease. He lolled in his chair, took his glass, and cracked his jokes— stretching his limbs under the table, with a sort of indolence which showed the absence of care and concern. However industrious in business (and no nation can exhibit greater industry), when he came to relax, as he called it, he presented a perfect picture of ease, freedom, and comfort, which, whilst it admitted social pleasure, excluded fear, anxiety, and
But, Sir, how comes it about that all this has of late been reversed-that in all our parties of pleasure we should study only to what inconvenience our guests may be put, and even to what danger they may be exposed? Whether our fashionables give what they call a rout, or a dinner; a breakfast, or a gala; or by whatever name the entertainment may be called, why is it become the fashion to surround us with inconve niences and risks, which totally banish all ideas of pleasure or comfort? A dance, and the room so crowded that it is impossible to move-a dinner or supper, and the guests so numerous that all politeness and accommodation are exchanged for a scramble, that would do credit to a shilling ordinary-cardparties, in which all play is turned into fainting-fits and swooning-refreshments, which are so difficult to be procured, that hartshorn and lavender must be substituted-a promenade, in which we enjoy every thing but the power of breathing-and the whole produce of a hothouse brought into a room, that fresh air may be excluded-and ladies and gentlemen, instead of talking, laughing, and joking, are screaming, gasping, and crying.
Such are the pains of a modern party of pleasure; and all I wish to know, Sir, is, the advantage to be
derived from this system of inconvenience and embar rassment. I should suppose that some advantage 'must arise, although I cannot discover what it is; for I am confidently assured, that there are ladies of distinction who give routs of the kind I have described, and are happy only in proportion to the number of fainting-fits within doors, and of accidents without: such as the pole of one coach driven through the back of another; a footman's leg broken; the whole neighbourhood disturbed; glasses smashed; horses rearing, kicking, and plunging; ladies walking without shoes to their carriages, &c. &c. Without a column or two of these casualties in a newspaper, Lady A. and Lady B. and Lady C. declare that a rout would be worth nothing; and so it may, for aught that I know. All I wish explained is, the theory-the philosophy-of such entertainments; in order that, while a considerable proportion of mankind are laughing at the preference given to personal inconvenience and risk, they may be instructed in what they cannot at present comprehend.
But while I mention this aversion to social com'fort as something new in our entertainments, I would not have it thought that I mean to compliment the ingenuity of the inventors. In truth, there is so little of invention, so little of what any blockhead may not practise, that they can take scarcely any credit to themselves on this score. In order to render a 'Party of Pleasure as uncomfortable, inconvenient, and dangerous, as possible, nothing more is required than to invite twice the number of guests which the house will hold! Surely this recipe is simple, and adapted
to the meanest capacities;" and if it requires any addition, it must derive it from the state of the weather. Thus, a fête champêtre may be given in a rainy season; or an in-door rout when the thermometer stands at 70; and this, with double the number of