550 Notes of the Month on f Nov. 



not veiy antient, is knovti to all Europe as one of the great and truly 

 historical English names. Do the Somerset branch of the house of 

 Seymour wish to foist themselves on the French Saint Maurs, who 

 are totally inferior in antiquitj^ and lustre to the English Seymours'? 

 Do they think that Saint ISlnur is a better sounding and prettier name 

 than that of Seymour ? Thus actors and actresses^ I allow, often take 

 some well-knoA\ai and fine sounding name, such as Clifford, Montagu, 

 Egerton, &c. It is ti'ue, XhaX. the name of Seymour was antiently written 

 Saint Maur, as old Camden informs us ; but be it observed, that that 

 was before the Seymours had risen into splendour. Who is there that is 

 not familiar with the name of Queen Jane Seymoui', or that of Edward 

 Seymour, the Protector, Duke of Somerset? But, who in England 

 ever heard of the name of Saint JMaur ? I have no hesitation in saying, 

 that the assumption of the name of Saint jNIaur is as stupid and ignorant 

 as it is ridiculous and affected." 



" ' There's nothing new below the sun,' 

 Was the old saw of Solomon." 



" Ireland was papist once, and will be papist again," Avas the cry of 

 the priests for those three hundred years ; and we cry it along with them. 

 We shall yet see the whole showy melo-drame of popery performed by a 

 " large and complete company," as regularly making their transit from 

 France and Italy to Ireland, as Signor di Begnis and his Signoras, 

 singing perhaps quite as well, understanding stage trick just as dexte- 

 rously, and making a great deal more money ; a matter which long 

 practice has made them understand a great deal better than any Signor 

 di Begnis of them all. We shall have the Host making its holy pro- 

 cession through the streets of the Irish cities. The pantomimes of 

 scripture, which now make so showy a figure in the pleasures and pomps 

 of Italy, shall administer to the pleasures and pomps of Irish popery. 

 The pictures of saints shall shed tears, and Father Doyle shall liquefy the 

 blood of Father Roche, who in those unenlightened times, when priests 

 were not yet the lords of the land, was hanged for doing the glorious 

 work of mother-church, which the laws of heretics pronounced rebel- 

 lion. We have but to live a few years longer to see the bones of 

 Father O'Quigley, the dear friend of Arthur O'Connor, that dear friend 

 of Fox and the whigs, those dear friends of the constitution; dug up 

 from the felon's ground at Maidstone, where they lie inglorious, since 

 he was hanged there as a traitor — to work miracles in the new land of 

 the faith, and cure the broken heads, and restore the broken legs of 

 Paddies to come. 



We are sure that those demonstrations of the triumph of the true 

 faith will receive no let or hindrance, at least, from the pure protes- 

 tantism of Lord Plunket, nor the rigid justice of his Grace of Nor- 

 thumberland. We are sure that the one would as soon give up a place, 

 or the other expend a penny, as impede the march of mind in the old, 

 holy direction ; and in consequence, if the very finest melodrames of 

 monkery are not performed for the gratification of an enlightened 

 populace, we shall not impute an iota of so disastrous a disappointment 

 to either of those illustrious personages. But the glorious change has 

 already begun. A jubilee has been publicly proclaimed in the Irish 

 cnpital, by a Bull from the Pope! It is to continue for a fortnight. 



