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palate; an entertainment so far removed from intellectual happiness, that scarcely the most shameless of the sensual herd have dared to defend it; yet even to this, the lowest of our delights,-to this, though neither quick nor lasting, is health, with all its activity and sprightliness, daily sacrificed: and, for this are half the miseries endured which urge impatience to call on death." And the self-condemned, yet venerable moralist had written previously with still greater energy, nor is it easy to enter a house in which part of the family is not groaning in repentance of past intemperance, and part remitting disease by abstinence, or soliciting it by luxury.' Let those who now read this, enter their own houses, and then question the truth of it if they can. But how does the foe enter? We appoint certain hours for food, for the putting-off of death---as Jeremy Taylor nobly expresses it: we, perhaps, never, or at most but seldom, depart from those stated hours, and we eat till we think we have had enough! Intemperance enters by as many gates as death. It is introduced by fasting, by hemorrhage, by disease, whether of body or mind (for the restlessness of either seeks relief in any diversion or new employment that presents itself); good-fellowship may beget it, though but seldom---for, among those whose society is most estimable, little regard is seen for animal gratifications; but idleness, or vacancy of mind, is above all things incentive to excesses in diet, as indeed to declension from virtue of every kind. Yet here let me observe, that the object of my present animadversion is gluttony more especially than drunkenness. My reason for not making this latter odious crime the more immediate subject of these remarks is, that it has been much more frequently and more ably reprobated than its gross and sluggish counterpart; besides, too, there is reason to believe, that inebriety is much less prevalent in this country than formerly; while, on the other hand, it is to be feared, that our English character is acquiring more and more of the gourmand. The reason of this change may be found in the increase of cunning which vice derives from the progress of civilization. A drunken man must stare, and swagger, and stammer, or, if he talks, talk loosely and with small meaning. If he is able to speak, his conversation is most disgusting; if he is not, his situation is still worse; and thus, in both cases, there is very small hope for him of concealment. But the glutton may stuff till his chair breaks under him, or, at any rate, till his full gorge does "stretch his Saxon coat almost to bursting;" and, all this while, no sparkle of the eye, no hurry or confusedness of the tongue, betrays that he is, what is justly called, making a beast of himself. Yet the stupefaction is just as complete, as though it were occasioned by fermented liquor. But what a state is this for a being endowed, like man, with perpetual means of creating in himself and others the most exquisite of pleasure---that which the soul enjoys without consciousness of its liaison with the corporeal frame! Can it be that we relinquish that elevating susceptibility of immaterial enjoyment which forms our grand advantage over the brute---that high

"Perception of the beautiful,

That fine extension of the faculties,

Platonic, universal, wonderful,

Drawn from the stars, and filter'd through the skies,
Without which life" were indeed very "dull"-

can it be that we relinquish a capacity for pleasure of this heavenly description---relinquish it for the vile alternative of sucking in for an hour or two between our palate and tongue, what keeps our whole animal frame, VOL. III. PART XXI.

N

and its dependencies, for whole years, in a state of constant irritation and putrefaction, and for the moment, in a senseless apathy, assimilating ourselves to that most bestial of all the beasts we so despise, and with whom we are so loath to be classed---the gluttonous and sickly sloth! And how slight a shade better are we than this disgrace of the creation, when we come home at five to our smoking dinner, devour it before the covers are off, with our greedy eyes, and then with our greedier mouths, till our eyes are useless. "I am never fit for business after dinner," says John Bull. Those who wish to pick his pocket say he is never fit for any thing before dinner. They are both right. An Englishman is so grossly immoderate in his one great repast, that all exertion after it, till sleep has enabled the perspiration and other organs in some measure to relieve the frame of its disproportioned load, is irksome in the extreme, and even painful. But an Englishman with an empty stomach is as full of brains as a whale, or an elephant---too full to let his purse be disencumbered of its bright burden, by the mercurial kindness of governors or projectors. One of the most extraordinary instances of gluttony, one of the most methodized cases of that madness, is exhibited, if we may trust report, in the character of the late masterly painter Fuseli. On dit of him, that when he wished to invent a scene of especial horror, he would feed to repletion-in fact, stuff himself stupid, so that, in the absence of reason, his fancy might conjure up every possible shape of monstrosity; and that the sort of waking nightmare to be expected from such violence to the digestion, might give to the scene thus created a sufficient air of terror and disgust. This is obviously downright filthiness. But with respect to any sharpening of the perception whatever, it appears that the experiment is injudicious,—to say nothing of its being morally reprehensible. Of sensual feelings, by far the greater number is of those which are painful; so that to stifle reason, which is our chief source of pleasure, and to give increased sensibility to the more earthly part of us, which is oftener the medium of anguish than of delight, is to crush a friend and strengthen a foe.

It is time to reach the kernel of this long discourse. There are many, perhaps, who do really believe themselves quite innocent of all excess such as here has been mentioned. I am willing to coincide with their belief; but lest it should prove erroneous, I will give them a few tests that will prevent them from imposing on themselves. Is their complexion clear? Are their eyes lively, and never blood-shot? Are their spirits and their bodily strength unvarying, certain, uniform, and unintermittent? And, if I may be so bold, do they never eat a morsel without appetite? Do they never take artificial means to produce a desire of food, nor ever pamper the baby Taste after its parent Hunger has bid it forbear and eat no more? Now unless they can answer all these simple interrogatives with an honest and unreserving affirmative, I tell them that they are abusing themselves, and insulting Him who made them, by perverting the faculties he gave from their intended, and only fit, purpose. Man eats to live, not lives to eat. I know that the work of intemperance may go on for a while without injury to the offender; but "it is the last load that breaks the camel's back," and sooner or later the truth will out. Keep the five interrogatories I have proposed, keep them constantly in remembrance. Never talk of constitutional disorders producing any of the symptoms I have "posted." No disorder can grow, unless the body it occurs in grows too: that body has no other source of growth (that is, of sustenance; for though we no longer increase in size, yet our bulk is unceasingly diminished and re

supplied) than the food which is received into it; and when the animal structure is only supported, and there is no surplus of nutriment to feed the disease, why, assuredly the disease will be left behind dead, while the perfect and disburdened organs move regularly on towards the far end of their labours. A life of temperance is as eligible to the young as to the old, to the ignorant as to the wise, to the wicked as to the good. Indeed, had I something more of space here, it would be easy for me to establish the impossibility of vice existing with habits that secure the possession of health. But I must draw to a close. Go on, then, ye contemners of all propriety, of all virtue! Proceed in your lawless career! but, take the advice of a friend, and be temperate at the festive board; that you may sit there the longer, and relish its dainties with a keener zest. I do not tell you that moderation in one respect will beget it in another, or that from ceasing to hurt yourselves, you will acquire a dislike to injuring others; do what I advise, and do it for the reason I have given; and I am at rest as to the consequences. To people of better intentions, I will only add one argument to strengthen them against the encroachments of intemperance: It must at some time be repelled, and the longer an effort is delayed, the more violent must it be. This principle applies to every single meal; for it will be found, that the first unneeded mouthful is more easily dispensed with than the second.

STANZAS. ΤΟ

OH! had I a muse like thine,

With a wing so light and so splendid,

So every thing but divine--

When, when, should its flight be ended?

Not with the death of time,

Not with the limits of space:
Over all would I soar sublime,

And meet heaven face to face.

Say, would I bask beneath

The twilight of woman's eye?
Hang on her transient breath,

And give for each breathing a sigh?

Ne'er should my fancy's plume

Be damp'd in the goblet's wave,

Giving mirth but a day's flower's bloom,
One sun for its cradle and grave.

Never should Faction's breath
Ere sully my harp's pure string;
Nor the warring of conquest or death
In its mild vibrations ring:

But wherever sad heart had a wound,
Which the balm of song might heal---
There should my skill be tuned,

And its sting from the serpent steal---
From the serpent sorrow that winds
Round man in his brightest hours;

Till, alas! the victim finds

That the least safe bed is of flowers.

And wherever a virtue lay,

By passions a while o'erthrown,

My music should roll away

That virtue's burial stone;

And bid the entomb'd arise :--

But, stop, my bold thoughts! your flow;

What right have ye up in the skies,

When your spring is a breast below?

G. N.

PROPOSALS FOR THE PROPAGATION OF VULGARITY.

BY CLEMENT Clearsight, Gent.

LADY ARABELLA MODISH'S Conversazione is amongst the lions of the fashionable world. On Sunday evening a galaxy of all the beauty and fashion of the metropolis (as the Morning Post says), regularly assemble to discuss all matters of the most vital importance, from curls a la Grecque, to the fashions of the last drawing-room. On a late evening of the fashionables' attendance, the stream of the discourse took a wider turn, and actually engulfed itself into the ocean of men and things. The emigration of some run-away drysalter from Billiter Square to Connaught Terrace, was the cause of the revolution of topics. As usual, the arrogance, the presumption, of the cits was denounced against, and sentence of excommunication was pronounced on the unfortunate Lady Cookesley for getting rich, and endeavouring to vie with her betters; by all present moving to be not at home when she was out visiting, and at home when the delinquent gave her first route. As the company present were invariably selected from the highest branches of rank and fashion, it need not be said that they had too much regard for their reputation to entertain the remotest idea of exercising any intellectual faculty, of which, by some mistake of nature, they might be possessed; the conversation was therefore most elegantly insipid, and, to the credit of the hostess, of the most well-bred dulness. However, upon the evening which so particularly engages our attention, the fact of a wholesale-grocer being cast in an action of crim. con., and an alderman's wife being dunned for upwards of three years for her dress-maker's account, excited considerable consternation amongst the elegant party, at the approaching level, of what was once as distinct as Hyperion to a Satyr," or Primrose Hill to Mount Vesuvius. Doctor's Commons was daily being troubled to settle the grievances of Bishopsgate malcontents: the Lord Chancellor was guardian to more wards in the city of London, than the Lord Mayor governs. Even cutting had become unfashionable, since it was found that the wives of the bankers and aldermen, who had emigrated to the west, dropped the acquaintance of those in the east, with whom they had formerly resided in terms of the closest intimacy---an assumption of the privileges of high life never to be forgiven!

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"Shade of the immortal Chesterfield! protect us from the corruption of these Goths and Vandals; we shall not have an amusement or a characteristic left!" was echoed throughout the room. At this alarming intelligence, seventeen ladies shrieked aloud, four officers of the King's Own fainted, and were obliged to have their stays loosened; and the whiskers of all the gentlemen present fell off, in consequence of the cold perspiration having dissolved the gum which secured them. When the general consternation had partly subsided, tranquillity was restored by the members of the conversazione entering into the following resolutions, as the only means of preserving the distinction between Grosvenor Square and Crutched Friars.

I. That the members of the society for the Propagation of Vulgarity have determined, in order to counteract the evil designs of certain individuals east of Temple Bar, to act and think as they like, the opposition of

which doctrine has been heretofore the corner-stone of fashionable distinction.

II. That any member of this society be at his free will and disposal, to be seen in or out of town during the months of July, August, September, and October.

III. That any member be at liberty to pay his or her debts, though they have not been contracted seven years.

IV. That each and every member have free and especial permission to notice any relative, friend, or acquaintance, in a place of fashionable resort, even though the said relation or friend be three weeks behind the fashion, or wear white cravats before dinner.

V. That no one constituting a part of this society, need leave town on a Sunday, unless circumstances oblige them to prefer that day.

VI. That every member wishing to rise before three in the afternoon, or retire to rest before five in the morning, is perfectly at liberty for so doing.

VII. That no lady or gentleman have any necessity to ruin themselves, or any of their tradesmen, to keep up their reputation as members of high life.

VIII. Should any thing extraordinary occur in or out of the fashionable world, any one of this honourable association has, at his or her free disposal, liberty to express his or her surprise or astonishment.

IX. That it is not necessary that every individual superior to any member of this society, in point of genius, talent, or reputation, be voted a bore!

X. That the members of this refined community have it in their power, at any dinner party, to satisfy their appetite.

XI. That no gentleman connected with this society be cut for being seen to be with, or speak to, his wife in public.

XII. That the society have come to the determination of making it no longer necessary for any gentleman, member of the World of Fashion, to get drunk every night, be cast in a crim. con., or breach of promise, or shoot his best friend in a duel.

XIII. Lastly, it is proposed that every member be allowed to spell with propriety, and even to speak common English, if they entertain a wish of being understood.-Although these resolutions threaten to destroy the leading characteristics of high life, yet, under the existing alarm, they were unanimously adopted. The dashing hostess having promised to become Lady Patroness, the conversazione, and the ices, being dissolved, the blinds being drawn down, and the carriages drawn up, parting compliments, and Lafitte were swallowed, and success drunk to the

"SOCIETY FOR THE PROPAGATION OF VULGARITY."