It was not enough that the stream of folly flowed more sparingly in the Oracle than before; I was determined

To have the current in that place damm'd up;

And accordingly began the present poem for which, indeed, I had by this time other reasons. had been told that there were still a few admirers of the Cruscan school, who thought the contempt I shewed for it not sufficiently justified by the few passages I had produced. To silence these objections, therefore, I thought it best to exhibit the tribe of Bell once more; and, as they passed in review

NOTES.

a soused gurnet." Mere pecora inertia! The contest is without danger, and the victory without glory. At the same time, I declare against any undue advantage being taken of these concessions. Though I knew the impotence of these literary Askaparts, the town did not: and many a man, who now affects to pity me for wasting my strength upon unresisting imbecility, would, not long since, have heard their poems with applause, and their praises with delight.

*

before me, to make such additional extracts from their works, as should put their demerits beyond the power of future question.

I remembered that this gentleman, in his excellent remarks on the Baviad, had charged the author with "bespattering nearly all the poetical eminence "of the day." Anxious, therefore, to do impartial justice, I ran for the ALBUM, to discover whom I had spared. Here I read, " In this collection are

names whom Genius will ever look upon as its "best supporters! Sheridan". what, is SAUL also among the Prophets !'-"Sheridan, Merry, "Parsons, Cowley, Andrews, Jerningham, Colman, Topham, Robinson," &c.

66

Thus furnished with "all" the poetical eminence

NOTES.

I know it will be said that I have done it usque ad nauseam. I confess it; and for the reason given above. And yet I can honestly assure the reader, that most, if not all, of the trash I have quoted, passed with the authors for superlative beauties; every second word being printed either in italics, or capitals.

of the day, I proceeded, as Mr. Bell says, to bespatter it; taking for the vehicle of my design, a Satire of Horace--to which I was led by its supplying me (amidst many happy allusions) with an opportunity, I was not unwilling to seize, of briefly noticing the present wretched state of dramatic poetry.*

NOTES.

* I know not if the stage has been so low, since the days of Gammar Gurton, as at this hour. It seems as if all the blockheads in the kingdom had started up, and exclaimed, una voce, Come! let us write for the theatres. In this there is nothing, perhaps, altogether new; the striking and peculiar novelty of the times seems to be, that ALL they write is received. Of the three parties concerned in this business, the writers and the managers seem the least culpable. If the town will have husks, extraordinary pains need not be taken to find them any thing more palatable. But

+ I recollect but two exceptions. Merry's idiotical Opera, and Mrs. Robinson's more idiotical Farce. To have failed where O'Keefe succeeded, argues a degree of stupidity scarcely credible. Surely "ignorance itself is a pla "net" over the heroes and heroines of the Baviad!

When the MAVIAD (so I call the present poem) was nearly brought to a conclusion, I laid it aside. The times seemed unfavourable to such productions. Events of real importance were momentarily claiming the attention of the public; and the still

NOTES.

what shall we say of the town itself? The lower orders of the people are so brutified by the lamentable follies of O'Keefe, and Cobbe, and Pilon, and I know not who-Sardi venales, each worse than the otherthat they have lost all relish for simplicity and genuine humour: nay, ignorance itself, unless it be gross and glaring, cannot hope for " their most sweet "voices." And the higher ranks are so mawkishly mild, that they take with a placid simper whatever comes before them: or, if they now and then experience a slight fit of disgust, have not resolution enough to express it, but sit yawning and gaping in each other's faces for a little encouragement in their pitiful forbearance.

When this was written, I thought the town had "sounded," as Shakspeare says, "the very base "string of humility," but it has since appeared, that they had not then reached the lowest point of degradation. The force of English folly, indeed, could go

F

voice of the muses was not likely to be listened to amidst the din of arms. After an interval of two years, however, circumstances, which it is not material to mention, have induced me to finish, and trust it, without more preface, to the candour to

NOTES.

no farther, and so far I was right-but the auxiliary supplies of Germany were at hand; and the taste, vitiated by the lively nonsense of O'Keefe and Co. was destined to be utterly brutified and destroyed, by successive importations of the heavy, lumbering, mono. tonous stupidity of Kotzebue and Schiller.

The object of these writers has been detailed with such force and precision in the Introduction to "THE "ROVERS," (ANTI JACOBIN, Vol. II. p. 415.) that nothing remains to be said on that head- indeed the simple perusal of "The Rovers" would supersede the necessity of any critique on the merits of the German drama in general, since there is not a folly however gross, an absurdity however monstrous, to be found in that charming jeu d'esprit, that I would not undertake to parallel from one or other of the most admired works of the German Shakspeares.* Why it

So Kotzebue and Schiller are styled by the Critical Reviewers.