tainments, nor five pounds in lawfuits, for thefe five years.—There is a fmall parish in London, confifting of, I think, feventeen houles: of. confequence the poor-rates could not be confiderable. The overfeers, however, ufed to have one or two parish-meetings in the year, and twenty pounds a time were confumed in feafting: this was spent at a tavern. The Parish officers have, however, of late years, much to their honour, had their meetings at the veftry, and paid a few fhillings apiece out of their own pockets for a dinner. I mention thefe facts to thew, that fome great evils admit of an easy cure.

I cannot forbear taking notice of the great falaries paid to veftryderks. Thefe are fad nuifances. As a remedy, there fhould be a committee chofen by the parish, two of whom should be vifiters in rotation. We should then hear no more of thofe engines of oppreffion, Select Veftries.

I cannot, however, forbear doing juftice to the police of my country, in regard to the duty of the overfeers of the poor. But, I must ftill infift, that the poor-rates are highly oppreffive, and that the laws, profeitedly for the relief of the poor, are, in fome inftances, penal: the overfeer, 100, himself, though on oath, has various means of evading the duty of his office. And during my inquiry into this fubject, I have met with fuch inftances of oppreffion, relative to vagrants, certificates, the fettlement, and the removal of the poor, as call aloud for redrefs.

In a work, entitled, "Remarkable Occurrences in the Life of Mr. Jonas Hanway," I met with the following anecdote: I quote from memory. Mr. Hanway was expoftulating with an overfeer, who allowed lefs to a mother for nurfing her own child, than to a nurfe who was no ways related to an infant:" True," replied the overfeer; but you don't confider, that this woman will take care of her own child, and it may be on our hands a long while; whereas, perhaps, we fhall hear no more of the other."

I have heard it obferved by fome gentlemen, who have particuJarly turned their attention to the poor-rates, that in the prefent ftate of our government, the poor-rates, as now regulated, are the belt provifion that could be made for the poor; as voluntary fubfcriptions would throw the burden on the generous, and leave the felfish too much at large. But I am by no means of this opinion. In an affair of this nature, there are not wanting reafons to incline me to believe, that the felfifh might fometimes contribute more largely, than even the generous. And from a country regulated by the fame laws as England, I mean Scotland, it is clear, that additions made from other quarters to the voluntary fubfcriptions, would fecure a provifion for the

poor.

In regard to the fituation of our poor houses, I must avow, that I have vifited feveral prifons, in which I had rather be lodged, with a view to health, than in fome workhoufes in London. In Cambridge caftle, and in many prifons in London, people may lodge with much greater fafety to their health than in feveral workhouses in London. In a narrow lane, and behind this lane, where no air can arrive, are thefe miferable houfes frequently fituated; as for example, St. Bride's workhouse, in Shoe-lane. And in fome there is fcarce any court.

Wher

When I was fome years ago at Oxford, I afed frequently to vifit the poor-houfe. It is placed without the town, in an airy fituation, and the building is fpacious. The healthy afpects of the poor of this houfe, contrasted with their fallow complexions in fome other workhoufes, fhew the great evils attending confined habitations. I had heard Bear-lane workhoufe, in Blackfriars-road, where many whole parishes are farmed, fpoken of in the moft fhocking terms. It has, however, the advantage of a large airy court, and this is a compenfation for feveral inconveniencies. In fome poor-houfes, the people are fometimes obliged to fleep three or four in a bed. This has been known, as a poor man informed me, to be the cafe in a large workhoufe, at Whitechapel, which, however, is, in the main, under excellent regulations, and the building healthy.And, furely, while the prefent fyftem for fupporting the poor continues, every parish might find fome healthy fpot for the poor, the aged, and the infirm; or, where feveral parishes unite, the probability is fill greater. For my part, I fcruple not to fay, that the houfes of fifty rich people ought to be levelled to the ground, fooner than three or four hundred of the poor, who have spent their best days in the fervice of the public. should be smothered. In a nation, that glories in its charitable inftitutions, a poor-houfe thould be reckoned no difgrace, and it would certainly caufe no interruption, even in the places of the most public refort.

I have dropped a hint on a plan for NATIONAL charity; and this would certainly be an improvement on the prefent fyftem of police: but the true policy of nations would be to leffen the number of the poor, by putting them into the condition of raifing themselves to independence. If France does not effect this, the reform there will be left incomplete: the prodigious number of waile lands fhould be let out to the poor at fmall rents, which would at the fame time relieve millions of poor people, and enrich the country.'

This fecond edition is much enlarged; and, being printed on a fmall type, contains a very confiderable quantity of matter at a moderate price.

ART. XXIV. Modern France. A Poem.

E.

By G. Richards, M. A. Fellow of Oriel College, Oxon. 4to. Is. Robinfons. 1793. Fan ornamented and studied diction, a measured and dignified march, and an harmonious verfification, be fuppofed to conftitute the characteristics of a fine poem, this is a fine poem: but if unaffected fimplicity be confidered as one effential ingredient, that ingredient, we think, is wanting. It is, indeed, generally wanting in our more recent poetical compofitions. The tinfel of Taffo, and the fimilor of Gefner, feem to be in greater eftimation than the fterling gold and filver of Dryden and Pope. Even fome of our first-rate poets have been deceived by the glare of that foreign metal; and the female Mufes have been fmitten with it-almoft to one. We have often la

mented

mented on finding fuch counterfeit coin fo current; and we will continue to bear our teftimony against it, until we fee it, if that be poffible, return into difgrace.

The fubject of Mr. R.'s poem is a difmal comparison of what he calls Modern France with its blissful fituation fome years ago. Perhaps a fanguine republican, with Mr. Richards's talents, might invert the order; and fhew that even the present ftate of France, difmal as it may be, is, in the eye of Freedom and Philofophy, lefs fo than it was under the reign of defpotifm. Some of our corps have been for years in France, in that fuppofed happy period when

-

wing'd with blifs the moments ftole away ;' and truly we faw little of that blifs, fave among the foft fons of luxury and riot :-the bulk of the nation were a wretched race. What else could they be,

When ftern oppreffion rais'd his iron wheel,

• And wrung from needy hinds their hard-earn'd meal?' If thofe hinds fang and danc'd their hour away,' it was only to make them momentarily forget their misery: but their mifery was not, therefore, the less real. Let us, however, hear Mr. Richards:

• What fearful Spirit, far across the main,

Breaks on my view, and hangs o'er Gallia's plain?
I heard thofe terror-ftriking yells of yore:

I know that poniard red with royal gore.

O murder'd Charles! the Fiend, who laid Thee low,
Again comes wildly forth, and speeds to woe:

More high the towers; more wide fhe waves her hand;
And shakes o'er hundred realms her livid brand:
Northward the hovers in Batavian skies,

And taints the air of Europe, as she flies.

But from thefe cliffs, my Sons, Britannia cried,
Her plumy Warriors marfhall'd at her fide,
Where rifing proud, in old and awful might,
The towers of Dover fhade the mountain's height,
From these bold cliffs, that overhang the main,
And circle Freemen, drive her maddening train.
High from these rocks let waving pendants stream;
Far o'er the feas let fteely armour gleam;

Dark from each cleft bid threatening cannons frown,
And crefted files the naked fummits crown.
So fhould yon Tyrants dare, with defperate prow,
To plough the founding waves, that roll below;
Not one returning foe fhall e'er recline
Beneath the clusters of his blushing vine;
Nor spread with chequer'd fhade of olives pale

The ftreams, that wander through Rouffillon's vale.

Hurl'a

Hurl'd ceafelefs hence terrific balls shall glare
In fiery arches thro' the midnight air;

O'er the white cliffs the burning barks fhall fhine,
And spread their radiance round the awful brine.'

We are forry to learn that the laft part of this prophecy has been inverted; and that the lines are too applicable to a recent event at Toulon.

Mr. R. paints, in glowing colours, the wafted plains, the demolished churches, unpeopled cities, highways o'erflown with gore, cannibal feafts, human facrifices, the ruthless tyranny of the French convention, a debafed nobility, a murdered king, and an infulted God! but he neglects, or forgets, to trace up all thofe evils to their natural caufes,-the league of fovereigns to crush a nation ftruggling for freedom, or what they deemed freedom; -and the treacherous difpofition of its own children to promote the views of those fovereigns.

Mr. R. is not altogether confiftent in his declamation. While he labours to convince his reader that the French are not a free-born for, he allows that a nation may arrange themselves around the throne of a defpot,

And wrench a charter from the tyrant's hand;' and although he, doubtless, is ardently defirous that our armies may vanquish the French, and reduce them to what he deems due order and a juft government,-that is, one fimilar to ours; -yet he means not to bind a generous race in chains,' but is willing to permit them to walk, hand in hand, with highfoul'd Britons.' The Reader will probably be pleased to fee the lines that breathe this fentiment; they are the most beautiful, we think, of the whole poem:

But, O my Britons, when the field is won,

And the wild wasteful work of war is done;

When Conqueft bears your ftandard through the skies,
And shakes her plumes before you, as the flies:

O then, my fons, your common being scan,

And give to Gallia, what is due to man:

Think on the free-born blood that fwells your veins,
And fear to bind a generous race in chains:

Give them that freedom, focial and refin'd,

Which awes the paffions, and fublimes the mind:
Give them that heavenly patriotic flame,
Which glow'd of yore in Somers' godlike frame:
Give them in Nature's foremost rank to ftand,
And walk with high-foul'd Britons hand in hand.'

An account of Mr. Richards's 'Aboriginal Britons, a poem,' will be found in our Review for December 1791; and his 'Songs of the Aboriginal Bards of Britain' were notieed by us in January 1793.

Ged..s.

ART:

ART. XXV. Pathetic Odes. The Duke of Richmond's Dog Thunder, and the Widow's Pigs-a Tale: The Poor Soldier of Tilbury Fort: Ode to certain Foreign Soldiers: Ode to Eastern Tyrants: The Frogs and Jupiter-a Fable: The Diamond Pin and Candle -a Fable: The Sun and the Peacock-a Fable. By Peter Pindar, Efq. 4to. 2s. 6d. Walker. 1794.

IN

N former days, Peter Pindar, Efquire, could fit down contentedly to make, a hearty meal on a folitary monarch, [broil'd, roafted, or fried,] an odd nobleman, or fo: but, tempora mutantur! he now grows quite voracious, and cannot dine without a plenteous difh of Defpots,-with Soup-royal, Imperial Fricaffée, Lordling Pies, Serene-Highness Saufages, Black Puddings à la Bangalore & Morocco, Taxation Tarts, and Ariftocratic Petits-plats in abundance. In fhort, he is the very Apicius Cælius of Democracy!-Palaces and thrones, crowns and fceptres, even the great globe itself, are to him only what "houfes and churches" were to that tremendous devourer, the Dragon of Wantley!

To drop, however, thefe culinary images of monftrofity, be it obferved, in plain unfigurative language, that we have now before us a mifcellany of farcaftic but not altogether unconnected poems; the feveral pieces being conjoined by one leading principle and purpofe,-the abatement of TYRANNIC PRIDE, the humiliation of THE GREAT!

The fatirift begins with his Grace of Richmond: but foon, as if difdaining to wafte his poetic powder and fhot on any uncrowned objects, he aims at higher game; and, like the daring giants of old, he prefumes to attack thofe earthly fuperior beings who are at once admired, adored, and dreaded by the lower orders of their own species.

Paffing, then, the ironical drollery about the D. of R.'s virtues, the exploits of his Grace's great dog Thunder, and the woeful tale of the poor widow and her pigs, in the perufal of which fome readers will, perhaps, be at a lofs to determine whether to give way to compaffion or to merrimentwe proceed to offer a fpecimen-not of every diftin&t article of which this motley publication is compofed, for that would occupy more of our pages than we can fpare, at this time, -but a fpecimen of the mood and temper in which this very original Bard here accofteth the Scepter'd Bullies' of mankind: the paffage, which we have felected, is taken from the ODE to Eastern Tyrants.'

Who, and what are ye, fceptred bullies?-fpeak,
That millions to your will muft bow the neck,

*The epithet, eaftern, is happily fupplied in the title-page, though it does not ftand at the head of the poem; as we have here placed it, No offence can be taken by the North-country Gentlemen.

And,