read enough of this specimen to confirm me in the old-fashioned but honest and conscientious prejudices which it is evidently the wish of its author to eradicate. He proposes to "exterminate the eyeless monster Bigotry," and "make the teeth of the palsied beldame Superstition chatter." This, which is doubtless designed as an allegorical allusion to the Romish Church, must, if actually accomplished, be its death; and when "the teeth of the beldame chatter," her brats may go beg; he proposes to make us all " I kneel at the altar of the common God," and to "hang upon that altar the garland of devotion," figures which Deism borrows from the old Heathen mythology, which are mere poetic smoke, and resemble most the steams of a perfumer's shop, or the smock of an Eastern bride smelling of "myrrh, aloes, and cassia." In a style less elevated and Heliconian this modern annihilator of moral and political evil roundly proposes an association throughout Ireland for the attainment of Catholic Emancipation and the repeal of the Union Act." That the abolition of the aristocracy of the country is a feature in his picture of Utopian amelioration, though, for reasons obvious, but lightly touched, and as yet kept in the shade, is evident from the manner and connexion in which he disapproves " of other distinctions than those of virtue and talent "a disapproval specious indeed, worthy the head of him who expects a new Jerusalem on earth, or seeks divine perfection among created beings. But ignorant, shamefully ignorant, must they be of human nature, and of the awful events which have taken place in Europe of late years, who can be gulled by such a pretext now. It is "Vox et præterea nihil," the very cant of republicans. I would suspect the cause which recommends itself by such a pretext, as I would the chastity of a wanton assuming the dress of a nun-the loyalty of a friar or a presbyter armed with a pike, or the honesty of a beggar with a casquet of jewels. "No distinctions but those of virtue and talent" was the pretext of Monsieur Egalité, of Legendre the butcher, of the bloody Roland, and of that monster in human shape Marat, who proposed, and was applauded by a banditti of ruffians calling themselves a National Convention for professing, the cutting off one hundred and fifty thousand heads as a sovereign specific for the disorders of France. It is said in a book to whose pages the "very interesting" Philanthropist seems not to be a stranger, that "burning lips and a wicked heart" are like a potsherd covered with silver;" the man I mean has himself quoted the phrase "a tree is known by its fruits," and if I mistake not, such expressions warrant the opinion that from certain noisy but worthless characters nothing but what is noxious can be expected. Men whose private life and known habits make them the refuse of the political, and the terror or the stain of the moral world, would make but sorry reformers of public abuse. I need not whisper " whence I steal the waters" when I say, " Physician, heal thyself." It is usual to commend the Catholic body for their loyalty; that they are generally loyal is sometimes acknowledged even by those who, in their official situations, reprobate the proceedings of the Catholic Committee. That there are loyal Catholics, both lay and clerical, is, I believe, probable, but it would puzzle a conjuror to reconcile with loyalty, as it is by loyalists understood, some of the Catholic measures.' Leaving this "interesting stranger" to amuse the admirers of the Catholic Drama by puffing at "the meteors" of his own creation, "which play over the loathsome pool" of his own pantomimic invention, I will ask you, sir, what has the Protestant cause, and what has that consummation of political wisdom the British constitution, to fear from a party which has to shelter in the shade. of such paltry and unmeaning bombast? The Philanthropist talks bigly of "blossoms to be matured by the summer sun of improved intellect and progressive virtue," -but if his root be rotten his blossoms will be dust. . . . From such corrections and such apologists, and from the machinations of all pseudo-philanthropists, may the good Lord deliver us! I have the honour to be, Sir, Yours, &c., A DISSENTER. VI. OFFICIAL PAPERS CONNECTED WITH SHELLEY'S VISIT TO IRELAND.' 1. Letter from Harriet Shelley to Eliza Hitchener, 2. Letter from the Surveyor of Customs, Holyhead, to the 3. Two Letters from the Post Office Agent at Holyhead 4. Letter from the Postmaster General to the Secretary of 1. Letter from Harriet Shelley to Eliza Hitchener. Dublin, March 18th [1812.] MY DEAR PORTIA, As Percy has sent you such a large Box so full of inflammable matter, I think I may be allowed to send a little but not such a nature as his. I sent you two letters in a newspaper, which I hope you received safe from the intrusion of Post masters. I sent one of the Pamphlets to my Father in a newspaper, which was opened and charged, but which was very trifling when compared to what you and Godwin paid. I believe I have mentioned a new acquaintance of These have appeared in Shelley's Early Life. 2 The original letter and that from the Surveyor of Customs in which it was forwarded to the Home Secretary, are in the Public Record Office, marked "Ireland, January to April, 1812, No. 655." One of the three known copies of the Broadside Declaration of Rights is in these papers. Miss Hitchener is the lady who figures in Hogg's Life of Shelley as "the brown demon." ours, a Mrs. Nugent, who is sitting in the room now and talking to Percy about Virtue. You see how little I stand upon ceremony. I have seen her but twice before, and I find her a very greeable, sensible woman. She has felt most severely the miseries of her country in which she has been a very active member. She visited all the Prisons in the time of the Rebellion to exhort the people to have courage and hope. She says it was a most dreadful task; but it was her duty, and she would not shrink from the performance of it. This excellent woman, with all her notions of Philanthropy and justice, is obliged to work for her subsistence to work in a shop which is a furrier's; there she is every day confined to her needle. Is it not a thousand pities that such a woman should be so dependent upon others? She has visited us this evening for about three hours, and is now returned home. The evening is the only time she can get out in the week; but Sunday is her own, and then we are to see her. She told Percy that her country was her only love, when he asked her if she was married. She called herself Mrs. I suppose on account of her age, as she looks rather old for a Miss. She has never been out of her own country, and has no wish to leave it. This is St. Patrick's night, and the Irish always get very tipsy on such a night as this. The Horse Guards are pacing the streets and will be so all the night, so fearful are they of disturbances, the poor people being very much that way inclined, as Provisions are very scarce in the southern counties. Poor Irish People, how much I feel for them. Do you know, such is their ignorance that when there is a drawing-room held they go from some distance to see the people who keep them starving to get their luxuries; they will crowd round the |