1936 THE UNIVERSITY Stanzas to the Memory of Burns; written for, and intended to be sung at the late Festival. By Eliza Cook Conversations with the late W. Beckford, Esq. Contributed by va- The Robertses on their Travels. By Mrs. Trollope Lights and Shades in the Life of a Gentleman on Half-pay. Author of "Stories of Waterloo." Nos. IV., V., VI. A Spanish Criminal Case. By C. D. The Refugee. By the Author of " Peter Priggins" Society for the Encouragement of Hearts. By Laman Blanchard Confessions of an Italian Innkeeper 53 95 107 116 145 150 The Talleyrand Papers. Nos. VII., VIII., IX. 180, 313, 473 DEC 9 405390 LITERATURE OF THE MONTH (for September): Poems by Coventry Patmore.-Revelations of Russia.-The Land of Promise; by the Baroness de Calabrella.-The Drama: The Steward-The Court of (for October): Arthur Arundel; by the Author of "Brambletye House."-Poems; by Elizabeth B. Barrett. -A Winter in Italy.-Rambles in Germany.-The Settlers in Ca- nada; by Captain Marryat.-The Voyages of the Nemesis, (new edi- (for November): The Nelson Despatches and Letters; edited, with Historical Notes, by Sir Harris Nicolas.- Major and Mrs. Darby Griffiths' Journey across the Desert, from Ceylon to Marseilles.-Young Love: a novel; by Mrs. Trollope 428—440 (for December): The Crescent and the Cross; or, Romance and Realities of Eastern Travel; by Eliot War- burton. Esq.-Adventures of an Officer in the Service of Runjit Singh; by Major Lawrence, British Resident at the Court of Ne- paul, &c.-Hillingdon Hall; or, the Cockney Squire: a Tale of THE LIBRARY THE UNIVERSITY THE NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. SOCIAL PIRACY; OR, THE ROVINGS, ROAMINGS, MOTIONS, LOCOMOTIONS, PEREGRINATIONS, POUNCINGS, MANŒUVRES, AND MARAUDINGS, GREAT LARCENIES AND PETTY LARCENIES, OF MR. AND MRS. HAWKE AND THE YOUNG HAWKES. Our flag's the sceptre all who meet obey. THE CORSAIR. CHAP. I. On Land Pirates in General. THERE is a piracy not of the high seas, and many a Paul Jones, and many a Lambro, who never boarded a prize or drew a cutlass. These are the corsairs of terra firma-of what the gentlemen of the fourth estate call the "social circle." What family has not felt the grievance of some marauding acquaintance or connexion, if not the heavier visitation of a storming-party of country cousins? In the spirit and morality of the piratical vocation, it makes no difference whatsoever whether it be prosecuted by water, or by land; on the waves of the Mediterranean, or in the squares of London. That of the Algerine is the less formidable of the two. The law of nations is with us, and we can send out an Exmouth with a squadron to bombard and destroy the hold of the robbers. But there is no law, statute or common, to put down cousins! There is no Algerine act to suppress the freebooters who pounce on our dinnertables, and the brigands that infest our bed-chambers. With reference to enemies of this description, it cannot be said with any pretension to truth, that although the assertion, Britannia wants no bulwarks, Her home is on the deep, is powerfully supported by the frequent occurrence of spunges (a marine production) in the various comfortable strata of English society. At least, if our homes are not " on the deep," full many a time have we cause to wish that they were so happily located. The land-pirates could not assail us there, however we might be exposed to the attacks of the " sea-attor.. neys." The captain of an English ship afloat sits down to dine in his cabin without the fear of any M. De Mangenville before his eyes. No unbidden and unwelcome guests make his brig or sloop "their own," and when he "turns in" for an hour's repose, he finds no impudent relation snoring in his hammock. Contrast the bliss of this state of security with the perils and dangers of the land, where, instead of living, we Sept.-VOL. LXXII. NO. CCLXXXV. B are lived upon; where we must often open our doors to people whom we long to fling out of the windows; where we are forced to drench with our Rhenish, men for whom we would willingly fill a bumper of Prussic, and escort to our best bed-rooms, hordes of vagrants, "male and female, after their kind," devoutly wishing, for their sakes, that our beds were entomological gardens, and that our rooms were haunted by as many imps and goblins as tormented St. Anthony, or chased Tam O'Shanter. CHAP. II. The piratical Family of the Hawkes-Breeding, Education, and Character of Mrs. Hawke, the Gipsy. THE Hawke family, whose expeditions and adventures are now to be recorded, were the most daring pirates of their age. Mrs. Hawke was commonly called "the Gipsy," from the habits of life to which she was addicted, and the soubriquet of the "Red Rover" was given to her husband for the same reason, in addition to the circumstance of his having a shocking red head of hair, which had defied all the atrapilatories of Rowland and Delcroix. The maiden name of Mrs. Hawke had been Pye, and as her Christian name was Margaret, she went familiarly, when a girl, by the appellation of the Mag-Pye, no doubt with a sly reference also to certain little predatory tricks, and playful larcenies, for which she was distinguished before she put away childish things. Her girlhood, too, had been a series of migrations; she lost her parents early in life, and, being but indifferently provided for, she was tossed for several years about the world, from the house of one relative to another, a rambling mode of existence, which contributed to eradicate any tendency to inhabitiveness (to borrow the phrenological phrase) that nature might have implanted in her. To form a notion of what she now was, imagine a woman more than forty-five, but decidedly not fifty, in the September of her days, brisk, buxom, bouncing, blooming, agreeably corpulent, sufficiently handsome, not above the middle height, but looking taller than she actually was, in consequence of her stately and commanding carriage, a point to which she possibly paid the more attention, as it was the only description of carriage she could call her own. Indeed, to see Mrs. Hawke treading the stage of life, one would have concluded that she was the queen of at least as redoubted a kingdom as the Isle of Tahiti, whereas, in truth, she had never been for a month the sovereign of a six-roomed house. Her complexion was Egyptian, almost Creole; her hair was black, her nose slightly aquiline; her lips small and compressed; her eyes bright, dark, piercing, busy, practical. In short, Mrs. Hawke was a woman of business every inch; one of those bustling, strenuous, managing, wilful people who sweep other folk (particularly husbands, children, and servants) along with them, by the impetuosity and vivacity of their movements. She was well connected, and had seen a good deal of the world here and there, picking up, as she trudged along, a few odds and ends of the ordinary female accomplishments, such as music and drawing, to which she contrived to add just enough of geography, history, and French, to make herself ridiculous, whenever she displayed any of these acquirements. Her manners ought not to have been coarse, recollecting the sphere in |