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PKOUT 


ffirrt  planting  of  the  Totatoe  iuTrfroi- 

KEHffiY  E.  aOE'.M,  YMK-  S-TISESti  COYIS':  CaKSJKK. 


aeis'soX'. 


C{)e  Eeltquts 


FATHEE    PEOUT, 


'^.^.  Df  ^alBrpasifliiUj  in  tIjB  &uuIt\  nf  fnrk^  IibishI 


COLLECTED  AND  AEBANGKD  BY 

OLIVER    YORKE,   Esq. 

(eet.  feancis  mahont.) 


ILLUSTRATED  BY 

ALFRED    CROQUIS,   Esq. 

(d.   MACtlSE,   E.A.) 


NEW  EDITION, 
REVISED   ANO  LARGELY    AUGMENTED. 

EzoBUBE  aliquis  nostrls  ex  ossibns  auctobI— .^iieuZ,  iv. 

LONDON: 

BELL  &  DALDY.  6  YOEK  STEEET,  COVENT  GARDEN, 

Am)  186  FLEET  STEEET. 

1866. 


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p~'  Printed  by  W.  Clowes  &  Sons,  Stamford  Street  and  Charing  Cross. 


PEEFACE 

TO  THE  PEESENT  EDITION, 


OiiTBE  GrOiiDSMiTH,  in  his  green  youtli,  aspired  to  he  the 
rural  pastor  of  some  village  Auburn  ;  and  in  after-life  gave 
embodiment  to  his  earlier  fancies  in  a  Vicar  of  "Wakefield. 
But  his  Dr.  Primrose  had  immense  advantages  over  Dr. 
Prout.  The  oHve  branches  that  sprang  from  the  vicar's 
roof-tree,  if  they  divided,  certainly  enhanced  the  interest  felt 
in  his  character  ;  while  the  lone  incumbent  of  "Watergrasshill 
was  thrown  on  his  own  resources  for  any  chance  of  enlisting 
sympathy.  The  "  great  defender  of  monogamy  "  could  buy 
a  wedding  gown,  send  his  boy  Moses  to  the  fair,  set  out 
in  pursuit  of  his  lost  daughter,  get  into  debt  and  jail ; 
exploits  which  the  Mndly  author  felt  he  could  have  himself 
achieved.  Prout's  misogamy  debarred  him  from  these 
stirring  social  incidents :  he  had  nothing  left  for  ib  but  to 
talk  and  write,  and  occasionally  "  intone''  a  genial  song. 

Prom  such  utterances  the  mind  and  feelings  of  the  man 
have  to  be  distilled.  It  requires  no  great  palseontological 
acumen  to  perceive  that  he  belonged  to  a  class  of  mortals, 
now  quite  gone  out  of  Irish  existence,  like  the  elk  and 
woH-dog ;  and  it  has  been  a  main  object  in  this  book  out  of 
his  '  relics '  to  '  restore  '  him  for  purposes  of  comparative 
anatomy. 


IV  PEErACE    TO   THE   PBESEJiTT   EDITIOIT. 

It  will  be  noticed  that  the  Father's  rambles  are  not 
limited  by  any  barrier  of  caste,  or  coat,  or  c6terie  ;  his  soul 
is  multilateral,  his  talk  multifarious,  yet  free,  it  is  hoped, 
from  garrulity,  and  decidedly  exempt  from  credulity.  He 
seems  to  have  had  a  shrewd  eye  for  scanning  Humbug,  and 
it  is  well  for  him  (and  for  others)  that  he  has  vacated  his 
parish  in  due  course  of  nature.  He  would  have  stoutly  re- 
sisted in  Ireland  the  late  attempted  process  of  Italian  Cul- 
lenization.  For  though  he  patronized  the  effort  of  Lord 
Kingston  to  naturalize  in  Munster  the  silkworm  from  that 
peninsula  (see  his  version  of  good  Bishop  Vida's  Bomhices, 
page  523),  mere  caterpillars,  snails,  and  slimy  crawlers,  he 
would  have  put  his  foot  on. 

From  Florence  the  poet  Browning  has  sent  for  this  edi- 
tion some  liaes  lately  found  ia  the  Euganeian  hills,  traced 
on  a  marble  slab  that  covered  the  bones  of  Pietro  di  Abano, 
tield  ia  his  old  age  to  be  an  astrologer. 

"  Studiando  le  mie  oifre  con  compasso 
Eilevo  ohe  sard  presto  sottc/  terra  j 
Perche  del  mio  saper  si  fa  gran  chiasso, 
B  gli  ignoranti  mi  hanno  moaso  guerra." 

Of  which  epitaph  the  poet  has  supplied  this  vernacular,  ren- 
dering verbatim.  v 

"  Studying  my  cyphers  vrith  the  compass, 
I  find  I  shall  be  soon  under  the  daisy ; 
Because  of  my  lore  folks  make  such  a  rumpus, 
That  every  duU  dog  is  thereat  unaisy" 

Browning's  attempt  suggests  a  word  or  two  on  Prout's 
jwn  theory  of  translation,  as  largely  exemplified  in  this  vo- 


PEEFAOE   TO   THE   PEESEKT   EDITION.  V 

lume.  The  only  perfect  reproduction  of  a  couplet  in  a  dif- 
ferent idiom  occurred  ia  a.d.  1170,  when  the  Archbishop  of 
York  sent  a  salmon  to  the  chronicler  of  Malmesbury,  with 
request  for  a  receipt  in  verse,  which  was  handed  to  bearer 

in  duplicate — 

I 
"  Mittitur  in  disco  mihi  pisois  ab  archiepisco- 
-Po  non  ponetur  nisi  potus.  Pol !  mihi  detur." 


"  I'm  sent  a  i^%\)t,  in  a  Tiasfie,  Sg  i\)t  arcl^6t8]^= 

=1§ap,  is  not  jput  i)eie.    lEgatr !  ])e  sent  noe  {leere." 

Sense,  rhythm,  point,  and  even  pun  are  here  miraculously 
reproduced.  Prout  did  his  best  to  rival  him  of  Malmesbury, 
but  he  held  that  in  the  clear  failure  of  one  language  to  elicit 
from  its  repertory  an  exact  equivalent,  it  becomes  not  only 
proper  but  imperative  (on  the  law  principle  of  Cestui  apres  in 
case  of  trusts)  to  fall  back  on  an  approximate  word  or  idea 
of  kindred  import,  the  interchange  in  vocabulary  showing 
at  times  even  a  balance  in  favour  of  the  substitute,  as  hap- 
pens in  the  ordinary  course  of  barter  on  the  markets  of  the 
world.  He  quite  abhorred  the  clumsy  servility  of  adhering 
to  the  letter  while  allowing  the  spirit  to  evaporate ;  a  mere 
Verbal  echo  distorted  by  natural  anfractuosities,  gives  back 
neither  the  tone  nor  quality  of  the  original  voice ;  while 
the  ease  and  curious  felicity  of  the  primitive  utterance  is 
marred  by  awkwardness  and  effort ;  spontaneity  of  song 
being  the  quintessence. 

Modest  distrust  of  his  own  power  to  please  deterred  Prout 
from  obtruding  much  of  his  personal  musings  ;  he  preferred 
chewing  the  cud  of  classic  fancies,  or  otherwise  approved 
and  substantial  stuff;  delighting  to  invest  with  new  and 
varied  forms  what  had  long  gained  universal  recognition. 


VI  ■PEEFACE   TO   THE   PEESENT   EDITION. 

He  had  strict  notions  as  to  what  really  constitute  the  Belles 
lettres.  Brilliancy  of  thought,  depth  of  remark,  pathos  of 
sentiment,  sprightliness  of  wit,  vigour  and  aptitude  of  style, 
with  some  scholarship,  were  requisites  for  his  notice,  or 
claim  to  be  held  in  his  esteem  a  literary  man.  It  is  useless 
to  add  how  much  of  recent  growth,  and  how  many  pre- 
tenders to  that  title,  he  would  have  eschewed. 

A  word  as  to  the  Etchings  of  D.  Maclise,  E.A.  This  great 
artist  in  his  boyhood  knew  Prout,  and  has  fixed  his  true 
features  in  enduring  copper.  The  only  reliable  outline  of 
Sir  "Walter  Scott,  as  he  appeared  in  plain  clothes,  and  with- 
out ideal  halo,  may  be  seen  at  page  54,  where  he  "  kisses 
the  Blarney  Stone"  on  his  visit  to  Prout  in  the  summer  of 
1825.  Tom  Moore,  equally  en  deshabille,  can  be, recognized 
by  all  who  knew  him,  perpetrating  one  of  his  "  rogueries" 
at  page  150.  The  painter's  own  slim  and  then  youthful 
figure  is  doing  homage  to  L.E.L.  on  a  moonlit  bank  at 
page  229,  whUe  the  "garret"  of  B^ranger,  page  299,  the 
"  night  before  Larry's  execution,"  page  267,  and  "  Manda- 
rins robing  Venus  in  silk,"  page  533,  are  specimens  of 
Prench,  Irish,  and  Chinese  humanity. 

But  it  is  his  great  cartoon  of  vn-iters  in  Eraser,  anno 
1835  (^front.),  that  will  most  interest  coming  generations. 
The  banquet  he  has  depicted  was  no  fiction,  but  a  frequent 
fact  in  Eegent  Street,  212.  Dr.  Maginn  in  the  chair,  ad- 
dressing the  staff  contributors,  has  on  his  right,  Barry 
Cornwall  (Procter),  Eobert  Southey,  Percival  Bankes, 
Thackeray,  Churchill,  Serjeant  Murphy,  Macnish,  Aina. 
worth,  Coleridge,  Hogg,  Q-alt,  Dunlop,  and  Jerdan.  Eraser 
is  croupier,  having  on  his  right  Crofton  Croker,  Lockhart, 


PEErACE   TO   THE   PEESE]<rT   EDITIOIT.  Til 

Theodore  Hook,  Sir  David  Brewster,  Dr.  Moir  (Delta), 
Tom  Carlyle,  Count  D'Orsay  (talking  to  AHan  CuBning- 
bam).  Sir  Egerton  Brydges  ;  Eev.  Q-.  E.  Gleig,  chaplain  of 
Chelsea  hospital ;  Eev.  P.  Mahony,  Eev.  Edward  Irving  (of 
the  unknown  tongues),  a  frequent  writer  in  Eraser,  and 
frequenter  of  his  sanctum,  where  ''  oft  of  a  stilly  night "  he 
quaffed  glenlivat  with  the  learned  Editor. 

Of  these  twenty-seven,  only  eight  are  now  living :  Mr. 
Procter,  lunacy  commissioner ;  Serjeant  Murphy,  insolvency 
ditto ;  the  Author  of  Vanity  Eair ;  the  vigorous  word- 
wielder,  who  then  was  supplying  Eraser  with  Sartor  Ee- 
sartus ;  Ainsworth ;  Grleig,  the  worthy  and  efficient  chaplain- 
general  of  Her  Majesty's  Eorces  ;  Sir  David,  and 

EEANK  MAHONT. 
Paeis,  Nov.  20,  1859. 


PKEFACE  TO  THE  FIRST  EDITION. 


It  is  much  to  be  regretted  that  our  Author  should  be  no 
longer  in  the  land  of  the  liYing,  to  furnish  a  general  Pre- 
amble, explanatory  of  the  scope  and  tendency  of  his  multi- 
farious •writings.  By  us,  on  whom,  with  the  contents  of  his 
coffer,  hath  devolved  the  guardianship  of  his  glory,  such 
deficiency  is  keenly  felt ;  haviug  learnt  from  Epictetus  that 
every  sublunary  thing  has  two  handles,  (ffav  itgayiLo,  h\)a,i 
tyii  KajSag),  and  from  experience  that  mankiud  are  prone 
to  take  hold  of  the  wrong  one.  King  Ptolemy,  to  whom  we 
owe  the  first  translation  of  the  Bible  into  a  then  vulgar 
tongue  (and  consequently  a  long  array  of  "  centenary  cele- 
brations"), proclaimed,  ia  the  pithy  inscription  placed  by 
his  order  over  the  ,  entrance  of  the  Alexandrian  Library, 
that  books  were  a  sort  of  physic.  The  analogy  is  just,  and 
pursuing  it,  we  would  remark  that,  like  other  patent  medi- 
dnes,  they  should  invariably  be  accompanied  with  "  directions 
for  use."  Such  wj oXeyo/tsi/a  would  we  in  the  present  case  be 
delighted  ourselves  to  supply,  but  that  we  have  profitably 
Studied  the  fable  of  La  Pontaine  entitled  "L'dne  quiportait 
les  Reliques,"     (liv.  v.  fab.  14.) 

In  giving  utterance  to  regret,  we  do  not  insinuate  that 
the  present  production  of  the  lamented  writer  is  un- 
finished or  abortive :  on  the  contrary,  our  interest  prompts  us 
to  pronounce  it  complete,  as  far  as  it  goes.  Prout,  as  an  au- 
thor, will  be  found  what  he  was  in  the  flesh — "  totus  teres 
atque  rotundws."  Still  a  suitable  introduction,  furnished  by  a 
kindred  genius,  would  in  our  idea  be  ornamental.  The  Pan- 
theon of  republican  B.ome,  perfect  in  its  simplicity,  yet 
derived  a  supplementary  grace  from  the  portico  superadded 
by  Agrippa. 

Much  meditating  on  the  materials  that  fill  "  the  chest," 
and  daily  more  impressed  with  the  merit  of  our  author,  we 
thought  it  a  pity  that  his  wisdom  should  be  suffered  to 
evaporate  in  magazine  squibs.     What  impression  could,  ia 


LIST    OP    ENtiRAVINGS 

BY  D.  MACLISE,  E.A. 

I.    THE    PEASEEIAN8    (CONTEIBXTTOES     IW    1835    TO  ArA^J^^'^V 

frasbr's  maoazine)  .         .         .      Frontispiece  *-^^^^ 

ir.  riEST  PLANTiNO  OF  THE  POTATO  IN  IRELAND  Vignette  Title  \^ 
m.  AN  APOLOGY  TOR  LENT      .....  Page  9  1^ 

rV.    PACK  IMPLOEA                    28  . 

T.    SIR  WALTER  SCOTT  AT  THE  BLARNEY  STONE  .             .  54  |/ 

TI.    IHE'MIRACTJLOITS  BRATJGHX                  .             .             .             „  95  <^ 

VII.    A  TALE  OE  A  CHITRN              .....  129  . 

Vm.    PORTRAIT  OE  L.  E.  L.                 .             .            .            .            .  133  1^ 

IX.    THE  RO&TJBBIES  OE  TOM  MOORE    .             .             .             .  150.. 

X.    HENRY  o'bBIBN                ......  162  \^ 

XI.    TOTTTES  PENSENT  ETRE  A  I A  FIN  DD  MONDE  .             .  198  ^ 

Xn.   FIRST  PLANTING  OF  THE  VINE  IN  GAUL     .            .            .  210  ^ 

Xm.    MEET  ME  BY  MOONLIGHT  ALONE               .            ,            .  229  '-' 

XIV.   j'aI  GARDE  SON  VEitRB 250  V 

XV.   THE  NIGHT  BEFORE  LARRY  WAS  STRETCHED  .            .  1&1\/ 

XVI.   DANS  UN  GRENIEB  ftTj'oN  ESI  BIEN  A  VINGT  AN8           .  299  " 

XVII.   PORTRAIT  OF  BEBANGEE     .            .             .            .            .  313  u 

XVni,    THE  WINE-CUP  BESPOKEN        .....  329  -^ 

XrX.   HE  DIETH  AND  IS  CHESTED           ....  347  <^ 

XX.   THE  GIFT  OF  VENUS      ......  365   ^ 

XXI.    THE  MANDARINS  ROBING  VINUS  IN  SILZ          •            .  533  \/- 


2  TATHEE  PEOITT'S   EELIQtTES. 

den  "  recollect  that  in  by-gone  days  these  "  deep  solitudes 
and  awful  cells  "  were  the  abode  of  fasting  and  austerity, 
they  will  not  grudge  the  once-hallowed  premises  to  com- 
memorate in  sober  stillness  the  Wednesdays  and  Fridays  of 
Lent.  But  let  that  rest.  An  infringement  on  the  freedom 
of  theatricals,  though  in  itself  a  grievance,  will  not,  in  all 
likelihood,  be  the  immediate  cause  of  a  convulsion  in  these 
realms ;  and  it  vrill  probably  require  some  more  palpable 
deprivation  to  arouse  the  sleeping  energies  of  John  Bull, 
and  to  awake  his  dormant  anger. 

It  was  characteristic  of  the  degeneracy  of  the  Eomans, 
that  while  they  crouched  in  prostrate  servility  to  each  im- 
perial monster  that  swayed  their  destinies  in  succession, 
they  never  would  allow  their  amusements  to  be  invaded, 
nor  tolerate  a  cessation  of  the  sports  of  the  amphitheatre ; 
so  that  even  the  despot,  while  he  rivetted  their  chains, 
would  pause  and  shudder  at  the  well-known  ferocious  cry 
of  "  Panem  et  Circenses  .'"  Now,  food  and  the  drama  stand 
relatively  to  each  other  in  very  different  degrees  of  im- 
portance in  England;  and  while  provisions  are  plentiful, 
other  matters  have  but  a  minor  influence  on  the  popular 
sensibilities.  The  time  may  come,  when,  by  the  bungling 
measures  of  a  "Whig  administration,  brought  to  their  full 
maturity  of  mischief  by  the  studied  neglect  of  the  agricul- 
tural and  shipping  interests,  the  general  disorganisation  of 
the  state-machinery  at  home,  and  the  natural  results  of 
their  intermeddling  abroad,  a  dearth  of  the  primary  arti- 
cles of  domestic  consumption  may  bring  to  the  English- 
man's fireside  the  broad  conviction  of  a  misrule  and  mis- 
management too  long  and  too  sluggishly  endured.  It  may 
then  be  too  late  to  apply  remedial  measures  with  efficacy ; 
and  the  only  resource  left,  may  be,  like  Caleb  Balderstone 
at  "Wolfs  Crag,  to  proclaim  "  a  general  fast."  When  that 
emergency  shall  arise,  the  quaint  and  original,  nay,  some- 
times luminous  and  philosophic,  views  of  Father  Prout  on 
the  fast  of  Lent,  may  afford  much  matter  for  speculation  to 
the  British  public ;  or,  as  Childe  Harold  says, 

"  Much  that  may  give  us  pause,  if  pondered  fittingly." 

Before  we  bring  forward  Father  Prout's  lucubrations  on 


AN   APOLOGY   TOE  LENT.  3 

this  grave  subject,  it  may  be  allowable,  by  way  of  pre- 
liminary observation,  to  remark,  that,  as  far  as  Lent  is 
concerned,  as  well  indeed  as  in  all  other  matters,  "  they 
manage  these  things  differently  abroad."  In  foreign 
countries  a  carnival  is  the  appropriate  prelude  to  abstemi- 
ousness ;  and  folks  get  such  a  surfeit  of  amusement  during 
the  saturnalian  days  which  precede  its  observance,  that 
they  find  a  grateful  repose  in  the  sedate  quietude  that 
ensues.  The  custom  is  a  point  of  national  taste,  which  1 
leave  to  its  own  merits ;  but  whoever  has  resided  on  the 
Continent  must  have  observed  that  all  this  bacchanalian 
riot  suddenly  terminates  on  Shrove  Tuesday  ;  the  fun  and 
frolic  expire  with  the  "  boeuf-gras  ;"  and  the  shouts  of  the 
revellers,  so  boisterous  and  incessant  during  the  preceding 
week,  on  Ash  Wednesday  are  heard  no  more.  A  singular 
ceremony  in  all  the  churches — that  of  sprinkling  over  the 
congregation  on  that  Wednesday  the  pulverised  embers  of 
the  boughs  of  an  evergreen  (meant,  I  suppose,  as  an  em- 
blem and  record  of  man's  mortality) — appears  to  have  the 
instantaneous  effect  of  turning  their  thoughts  into  a  dif- 
ferent channel :  the  busy  hum  subsides  at  once ;  and  learned 
commentators  have  found,  in  the  fourth  book  of  Yirgil's 
&eorgics,  a  prophetic  allusion  to  this  magic  operation : 

"  Hi  motus  animorum  atque  hsec  certamina  tauta 
Pulveris  exigui  jactu  compressa  qraescunt." 

The  non-consumption  of  butchers'  meat,  and  the  substi- 
tution of  fish  diet,  is  also  a  prominent  feature  in  the  con- 
tinental form  of  observing  Lent ;  and  on  this  topic  Father 
Prout  has  been  remarkably  discursive,  as  will  be  seen  on 
perusal  of  the  following  pages.  To  explain  how  I  became 
the  depository  of  the  reverend  man's  notions,  and  why  he 
did  not  publish  them  in  his  lifetime  (for,  alas  !  he  is  no 
more — peace  be  to  his  ashes  !)  is  a  duty  which  I  owe  the 
reader,  and  from  which  I  am  far  from  shrinking.  I  admit 
that  some  apology  is  required  for  conveying  the  lucid  and 
clarified  ideas  of  a  great  and  good  divine  through  the  opaque 
and  profane  medium  that  is  now  employed  to  bring  them 
under  the  public  eye ;  I  account  for  it  accordingly. 

I  am  a  younger  son.  I  belong  to  an  ancient,  but  poor 
and  dilapidated  house,  of  which  the  patrimonial  estate  was 
'  B  2 


4  FATHEE   PEOtTT  S   EELIQTJES. 

barely  enough  for  my  elder  ;  hence,  aa  my  share  resembled 
what  is  scientifically  called  an  evanescent  quantity,  I  was 
directed  to  apply  to  that  noble  refuge  of  unprovided  genius 
— the  bar!  To  the  bar,  with  a  heavy  heart  and  aching 
head,  I  devoted  year  after  year,  and  was  about  to  become  a 
tolerable  proficient  in  the  black  letter,  when  an  epistle  from 
Ireland  reached  me  in  Purnival's  Inn,  and  altered  my 
prospects  materially.  This  despatch  was  from  an  old  Car 
tholic  aimt  whom  I  had  in  that  country,  and  whose  boose 
I  had  been  sent  to,  when  a  child,  on  the  speculation  that 
this  visit  to  my  venerable  relative,  who,  to  her  other  good 
qualities,  added  that  of  being  a  resolute  spinster,  might 
determine  her,  as  she  was  both  rich  and  capricious,  to  make 
me  her  inheritor.  The  letter  urged  my  immediate  presence 
in  the  dying  chamber  of  the  Lady  CressweU  ;  and,  aa  no 
time  was  to  be  lost,  I  contrived  to  reach  in  two  days  the 
lonely  and  desolate  mansion  on  WatergrasshOl,  in  the  vici- 
nity of  Cork.  As  I  entered  the  apartment,  by  the  scanty 
light  of  the  lamp  that  glimmered  dimly,  I  recognised,  with 
some  difficulty,  the  emaciated  form  of  my  gaunt  and  withered 
kinswoman,  over  whose  features,  originally  thin  and  wan, 
the  pallid  hue  of  approaching  death  cast  additional  ghastH- 
ness.  By  the  bedside  stood  the  rueful  and  unearthly  form  of 
Father  Prout ;  and,  while  the  sort  of  chiaroscuro  in  which  hia 
figure  appeared,  half  shrouded,  half  revealed,  served  to  impress 
me  with  a  proper  awe  for  his  solemn  functions,  the  scene 
itself,  and  the  probable  consequences  to  me  of  this  last 
interview  with  my  aunt,  affected  me  exceedingly.  I  invo- 
luntarily knelt ;  and  while  I  felt  my  hands  grasped  by  the 
long,  cold,  and  bony  fingers  of  the  dying,  my  whole  frame 
thrilled ;  and  her  words,  the  last  she  spoke  ia  this  world, 
fell  on  my  ears  vsdth  all  the  effiect  of  a  potent  witchery, 
never  to  be  forgotten !  "  Prank,"  said  the  Lady  Cresswell, 
"  my  lands  and  perishable  riches  I  have  bequeathed  to  you, 
though  you  hold  not  the  creed  of  which  this  is  a  minister, 
and  I  die  a  worthless  but  steadfast  votary :  only  promise 
me  and  this  holy  man  that,  in  memory  of  one  to  whom 
your  welfare  is  dear,  you  will  keep  the  fast  of  Lent  while 
you  live  ;  and,  as  I  cannot  control  your  inward  belief,  be  at 
least  in  this  respect  a  Eomafi.  Catholic :  I  ask  no  more." 
How  could  I  have  refused  so  simple  an  injunction  P  and 


XS   APOLO.GT   rOE  LENT.  5 

what  junior  member  of  the  bar  would  not  hold  a  good  rental 
by  so  easy  a  tenure  ?  In  brief,  I  was  pledged  in  that  solemn 
hour  to  Father  Prout,  and  to  my  kind  and  simple-hearted 
aunt,  whose  grave  is  in  Eathcooney,  and  whose  soul  is  in 
heaven. 

During  my  short  stay  at  Watergrasshill,  (a  wild  and  ro- 
mantic district,  of  which  every  brake  and  fell,  every  bog 
and  quagmire,  is  well  known  to  Croffcon  Oroker — for  it  is 
the  very  Arcadia  of  his  fictions),  I  formed  an  intimacy  with 
this  Father  Andrew  Prout,  the  pastor  of  the  upland,  and  a 
man  celebrated  in  the  south  of  Ireland.  He  was  one  of  that 
race  of  priests  now  unfortunately  extiact,  or  very  nearly 
80,  Hke  the  old  breed  of  wolf-dogs,  iu  the  island :  I  allude 
to  those  of  his  order  who  were  educated  abroad,  before  the 
French  revolution,  and  had  imbibed,  from  associating  with 
the  polished  and  high-born  clergy  of  the  old  GraUican  church, 
a  loftier  range  of  thought,  and  a  superior  delicacy  of  senti- 
ment. Henoe,  in  his  evidence  before  the  House  of  Lords, 
"  the  glorious  Dan  "  has  not  concealed  the  grudge  he  feels 
towards  those  clergymen,  educated  on  the  continent,  who, 
having  witnessed  the  doings  of  the  sansculottes  in  France, 
have  no  fancy  to  a  rehearsal  of  the  same  in  Ireland.  Of 
this  class  was  Prout,  P.P.  of  Watergrasshill ;  but  his  real 
value  was  very  faintly  appreciated  by  his  rude  flock :  he 
was  not  understood  by  his  contemporaries  ;  his  thoughts 
were  not  their  thoughts,  neither  could  he  commune  with 
kindred  souls  on  that  wild  mountain.  Of  his  genealogy 
nothing  was  ever  known  with  certainty;  but  in  this  he 
resembled  Melchizedek :  like  Eugene  Aram,  he  had  excited 
the  most  intense  interest  in  the  highest  quarters,  stiU  did 
he  studiously  court  retirement.  He  was  thought  by  some 
to  be  deep  in  alchemy,  like  Friar  Bacon ;  but  the  gangers 
never  even^uspected  him  of  distilling  "  potheen."  He  was 
known  to  have  brought  from  France  'a  spirit  of  the  most 
chivabous  gallantry ;  still,  like  F^n^lon  retired  from  the 
court  of  Louis  XIV.,  he  shunned  the  attractions  of  the  sex, 
for  the  sake  of  his  pastoral  charge :  but  in  the  rigour  of 
his  abstinence,  and  the  frugality  of  his  diet,  he  resembled 
no  one,  and  none  kept  Lent  so  strictly. 

Of  his  gallantry  one  anecdote  will  be  sufficient.  The 
fashionable  Mrs.    Pepper,  with  two  female    companions, 


6  PATHEa  peotit's  eeliqtjes. 

travellmg  through  the  county  of  Cork,  stopped  for  Divine 
service  at  the  chapel  of  Watergrasshill  (which  is  on  the  high 
road  on  the  Dublin  line),  and  entered  its  rude  gate  while 
Prout  vsras  addressing  his  congregation.  His  quick  eye  soon 
detected  his  fair  visitants  standing  behind  the  motley  crowd, 
by  whom  they  were  totally  unnoticed,  so  intent  were  all  on 
the  discourse ;  when,  interrupting  the  thread  of  his  homily, 
to  procure  suitable  accommodation  for  the  strangers, 
"  Boys !"  cried  the  old  man,  "why  don't  ye  give  three 
chairs  for  the  ladies  ?"  "  Three  cheers  for  the  ladies  !"  re- 
echoed at  once  the  parish-clerk.  It  was  what  might  be 
termed  a  clerical,  but  certainly  a  very  natural,  error ;  and 
so  acceptable  a  proposal  was  suitably  responded  to  by  the 
frieze-coated  multitude,  whose  triple  shout  shook  the  very 
cobwebs  on  the  roof  of  the  chapel! — after  which  slight  in- 
cident, service  was  quietly  resumed. 

He  was  extremely  fond  of  angling ;  a  recreation  which, 
while  it  ministered  to  his  necessary  relaxation  from  the  toils 
of  the  mission,  enabled  him  to  observe  cheaply  the  fish  diet 
imperative  on  fast  days.  For  this,  he  had  established  his 
residence  at  the  mountain-source  of  a  considerable  brook, 
which,  after  winding  through  the  parish,  joins  the  Black- 
water  at  Fermoy ;  and  on  its  banks  would  he  be  fotrnd, 
armed  with  his  rod,  and  wrapt  in  his  strange  cassock,  fit  to 
personate  the  river-god  or  presiding  genius  of  the  stream. 

His  modest  parlour  would  not  iU  become  the  hut  of  one 
of  the  fishermen  of  Galilee.  A  huge  net  in  festoons  cur- 
tained his  casement ;  a  salmon-spear,  sundry  rods,  and  fish- 
ing-tackle, hung  round  the  walls  and  over  his  bookcase, 
■which  latter  object  was  to  him  the  perennial  spring  of 
refined  enjoyment.  Still  he  would  sigh  for  the  vast  libraries 
of  France,  and  her  weU-appointed  scientific  halls,  where  he 
had  spent  his  youth,  in  converse  with  the  first  literary 
characters  and  most  learned  divines  ;  and  once  he  directed 
my  attention  to  what  appeared  to  be  a  row  of  folio  volumes 
at  the  bottom  of  his  collection,  but  which  I  found  on  trial 
to  be  so  many  large  stone-flags,  with  parchment  backs,  bear- 
ing the  appropriate  title  of  Coenelii  a  Lapidb  Opera  qucR 
extant  omnia ;  by  which  semblance  of  that  old  Jesuit's 
commentaries  he  consoled  himself  for  the  absence  of  the 
original. 


AX  APOLOQT  FOE  LENT.  7 

His  classic  acquirements  were  considerable,  as  wiU.  appear 
by  his  essay  on  Lent ;  and  while  they  made  him  a  most  in- 
structive companion,  his  unobtrusive  merit  left  the  most 
favourable  impression.  The  general  character  of  a  church- 
man is  singularly  improved  by  the  tributary  accomplish- 
ments of  the  scholar,  and  literature  is  like  a  pure  grain  of 
Araby's  incense  in  the  golden  censer  of  religion.  His  taste 
for  the  fine  arts  was  more  genuine  than  might  be  conjectured 
from  the  scanty  specimens  that  adorned  his  apartment, 
though  perfectly  in  keeping  with  his  favourite  sport ;  for 
there  hung  over  the  mantlepiece  a  print  of  Eaphael's  cartoon 
the  "  Miraculous  Draught ;"  here,  "  Tobith  rescued  by  an 
Angel  from  the  Fish  ;"  and  there,  "  St.  Anthony  preaching 
to  the  Pishes." 

With  this  learned  Theban  I  held  long  and  serious  con- 
verse on  the  natute  of  the  antiquated  observance  I  had 
pledged  myself  to  keep  up ;  and  oft  have  we  discussed  the 
matter  at  his  frugal  table,  aiding  our  conferences  with  a 
plate  of  water-cresses  and  a  red  herring.  I  have  taken 
copious  notes  of  Father  Prout's  leading  topics  ;  and  while  I 
can  vouch  them  as  his  genuine  arguments,  I  wiU  not  be 
answerable  for  the  style  ;  which  may  possibly  be  my  own, 
and  probably,  Hke  the  subject,  exceedingly  jejune. 

I  publish  them  in  pure  self-defence.  I  have  been  so  often 
called  on  to  explain  my  peculiarities  relative  to  Lent,  that  I 
must  resort  to  the  press  for  a  riddance  of  my  persecutors.  The 
spring,  which  exhilarates  all  nature,  is  to  me  but  the  herald 
of  tribulation  ;  for  it  is  accompanied  in  the  Lent  season  with 
a  recurrence  of  a  host  of  annoyances  consequent  on  the 
tenure  by  which  I  hold  my  aunt's  property.  1  have  at  last 
resolved  to  state  my  case  openly ;  and  I  trust  that,  taking 
up  arms  against  a  sea  of  troubles,  I  may  by  exposing  end 
them.  No  blessing  comes  unalloyed  here  below :  there  is 
ever  a  cankerworm  in  the  rose  ;  a  dactyl  is  sure  to  be  mixed 
up  with  a  spondee  in  the  poetry  of  life ;  and,  aa  Homer 
sings,  there  stand  two  urns,  or  crocks,  beside  the  throne 
of  Jove,  from  which  he  doles  out  alternate  good  and  bad 
gifts  to  men,  but  mostly  both  together. 

I  grant,  that  to  repine  at  one's  share  of  the  common  allot- 
ment would  indicate  bad  taste,  and  afford  evidence  of  Ul- 
humour :  but  still  a  passing  insight  into  my  case  will  prove 


8  TATHEE  PEOn'S   EELIQIJES. 

it  one  of  peculiar  hardship.  As  regularly  as  dinner  is 
announced,  so  surely  do  I  know  that  my  hour  is  come  to  be 
stared  at  as  a  disciple  of  Pythagoras,  or  scrutinised  as  a 
follower  of  the  Venetian  Cornaro.  I  am  "a  lion"  at  "feed- 
ing-time." To  tempt  me  from  my  allegiance  by  the  proffer 
of  a  turkey's  wing,  to  eulogise  the  sirloin,  or  dwell  on  the 
haut  goat  of  the  haunch,  are  among  my  friends'  (?)  practical 
sources  of  merriment.  To  reason  with  them  at  such  unpro- 
pitious  moments,  and  against  such  fearful  odds,  would  be  a 
hopeless  experiment ;  and  I  have  learned  from  Horace  and 
from  Father  Prout,  that  there  are  certain  mollia  tempora, 
fandi,  which  should  always  be  attended  to  :  in  such  cases  I 
chew  the  cud  of  my  resentment,  and  eke  out  my  repast  on 
salt-fish  in  silence.  None  wiU  be  disposed  to  question  my 
claim  to  the  merit  of  fortitude.  In  vain  have  I  been  sum- 
moned by  the  prettiest  lisp  to  partake  of  the  most  tempting 
delicacies.  I  have  declined  each  lady-hostess's  hospitable 
offer,  as  if,  to  speak  in  classic  parlance,  Canidia  tractavit 
dapes;  or,  to  use  the  vernacular  phraseology  of  Moore,  as  if 

"  The  trail  of  the  serpent  was  over  them  all." 

Hence,  at  the  club  I  am  looked  on  as  a  sort  of  rara  avis ; 
or,  to  speak  more  appropriately,  as  an  odd  fish.  Some  have 
spread  a  report  that  I  have  a  large  share  in  the  Hungerford 
Market ;  others,  that  I  am  a  Saint  Simonian.  A  feUow  of 
the  Zoological  Society  has  ascertained,  forsooth,  from  certain 
maxUlary  appearances,  that  I  am  decidedly  of  the  class  of 
lyQm^a/yai,  with  a  mixture  of  the  herbivorous.  "When  the 
tenth  is  known,  as  it  vrill  be  on  the  publication  of  this 
paper,  it  will  be  seen  that  I  am  no  phenomenon  whatever. 

My  witty  cousin,  Harriet  E.,  will  no  longer  consider  me 
a  fit  subject  for  the  exercise  of  her  ingenuity,  nor  present 
me  a  copy  of  G-ray's  poems,  with  the  page  turned  down  at 
"An  Elegy  on  a  Cat  drowned  in  a  tub  of  G-old  Pishes."  She 
will  perhaps,  when  asked  to  sing,  select  some  other  aria 
besides  that  eternal  barcarolle, 

"  O  peaoator  deU'  onda, 
Vieni  pescar  in  qxnk 
CoUa  Sella  tua  baroa !" 

and  if  I  happen  to  approach  the  loo-table,  she  will  not  think 


An  apology  for  Lent 


XN   APOLO&T  rOE  LENT.  9 

it  again  necessary  to  caution  the  old  dowagers  to  take  care 
of  their  _^sA. 

Bevenons  d.  nos  poissons.  When  last  I  supped  with  Father 
Prout,  on  the  eve  of  my  departure  from  "WatergrasshiU.  (and 
I  can  only  compare  my  reminiscences  of  that  classic  banquet 
to  Xenophon's  account  of  the  symposion  of  Plato),  "  Young 
man,"  said  he,  "  you  had  a  good  aunt  in  the  Lady  CressweU ; 
and  if  you  thought  as  we  do,  that  the  orisons  of  kindred  and 
friends  can  benefit  the  dead,  you  should  pray  for  her  as  long 
as  you  live.  But. you  belqngto  a  different  creed — different, 
I  mean,  as  to  this  particular  point;  for,  as  a  whole,  your 
church  of  England  bears  a  ■  close  resemblance,  to  ours  of 
Eome.  The  daughter  wiU.eTer  inherit  the  leading  features 
of  the  mother ;  and  though  in  your  eyes  the:  fresh  and  un- 
withered  fascinations,  of  ■  the  I  new  faith  may  fling  into  the 
shade  the  more  matronly  graces  of  the  old,  somewhat  on  the 
principle  of  Horace,  O  matre  pulchrd  filia  pulchrior  !  stiU 
has  our  ancient  .worship  many  and  potent  charms.  .-I  could 
proudly  dwell  ■  on  the  historic  recoUeetions  that  emblazon 
her  escutcheon,  the  pomp  and  pageantry  of  her  gorgeous 
liturgy — -r-" 

Pardon, -me,  reverend  friend,  I  interposed,  lest  he  should 
diverge,  as  was  his  habit,  into  some.long-wiiided  argument, 
forei|;n'to.the  topic -on  which  I  sought  to  beiinforpied,— I 
do  n©t  tjndervaluetthe  matronly  graces  of  your  veiperable 
church  ;  but?  (pointing  to  the  remnant  of  whia,t:.had  been  a 
red  herring) ,  letiua  ;talk  of  her  fish-diet  and  fast  days. 

"  4sy,  you  are  right  there,  chUd,"  resumed  Prout ;  "  I  per- 
ceive wh^re  my  panegyric  must  end —  < 

-  ,  •,Desi;ii|^mj)i«ce>»  mulier  formosa  superue!'    ,  .,  . ; 

Tou will. get  af^jnoiia  badgerin^^in,,town  when^^ybu  are 
found  out  to  have  forsworn  the  flesh-pots ;  and  Lent, will  be 
a  sad  season  for  ybii  among  the, Egyptians.  But  you  need 
not  be  unprovided  with  plausible  reasons  for  your  abstiaence, 
besides  the  sterling  considerations  of' the  rental.  Notwith- 
standing that  it  has  been  said  or  sung  by  your  Lord  Byron, 
that 

'  Man  is  a  carnivorous  production, 
And  cannot  live  (as  woodcocks  do)  on  suction ;' 


10  TATHEB   PEOUT's    EELIQTIBS. 

still  that  noble  poet  (I  speak  from  the  record  of  his  life  and 
^  habits  furnished  us  by  Moore)  habitually  eschewed  animal 
'  food,  detested  gross  feeders,  afld  in  his  own  case  lived  most 
frugally,  I  might  even  say  ascetically  ;  and  this  abstemious- 
ness he  practised  from  a  refinement  of  choice,  for  he  had 
registered  no  vow  to  heaven,  or  to  a  maiden  aunt.  The 
observance  will  no  doubt  prove  a  trial  of  fortitude  ;  but  for 
your  part  at  the  festive  board,  were  you  so  criminal  as  to 
transgress,  would  not  the  spectre  of  the  Lady  Cresswell, 
like  the  ghost  of  Banquo,  rise  to  rebuke  you  ? 

"And  besides,  these  days  of  fasting  are  of  the  most  remote 
antiquity ;  they  are  referred  to  as  being  in  vogue  at  the  first 
general  council  that  legislated  for  Christendom  at  Nice,  ia 
Bithynia,  A.n.  325  :  and  the  subsequent  assembly  of  bishops 
at  Laodicea  ratified  the  institution  a.d.  364.  Its  discipline 
is  fully  developed  in  the  classic  pages  of  the  accomplished 
Tertullian,  in  the  second  century  (Tract,  de  jejuniis).  I  say 
no  more.  These  are  what  Edmund  Burke  would  call  '  grave 
and  reverend  authorities,'  and,  in  the  silence  of  Holy  Writ, 
may  go  as  historic  evidence  of  primitive  Christianity ;  but 
if  you  press  me,  I  can  no  more  show  cause  under  the  proper 
hand  and  seal  of  an  apostle  for  keeping  the  fast  on  these 
days,  than  I  can  for  keeping  the  Sabbath  on  Sunday. 

"  I  do  not  choose  to  notice  that  sort  of  criticism,  in  its 
dotage,  that  would  trace  the  custom  to  the  well-known 
avocation  of  the  early  disciples:  though  that  they  were 
fishermen  is  most  true,  and  that  even  after  they  had  been 
raised  to  the  apostolic  dignity,  they  relapsed  occasionally 
into  the  innocent  pursuit  of  their  primeval  calling,  still 
haunted  the  Shores  of  the  accustomed  lake,  and  loved 
to  disturb  with  their  nets  the  crystal  surface  of  Genne- 
sareth. 

"  Lent  is  an  institution  which  should  have  been  long  since 
rescued  from  the  cobwebs  of  theology,  and  restored  to  the 
domain  of  the  political  economist,  for  there  is  no  prospect 
of  arguing  the  matter  in  a  fair  spirit  among  conflicting 
divines ;  and,  of  all  things,  polemics  are  the  most  stale  and 
unprofitable.  Loaves  and  fishes  have,  in  aU  ages  of  the 
church,  had  charms  for  us  of  the  cloth  ;  yet  how  few  would 
confine  their  frugal  bill  of  fare  to  mere  loaves  and  fishes ! 
So  far  Lent  may  be  considered  a  stumbling-block.     But 


AN   APOLOGY  I'Oa  LEITT.  11 

here  I  dismiss  theology:  nor  shall  I  further  trespass  on 
your  patience  by  angling  for  arguments  in  the  muddy  stream 
of  church  history,  as  it  roUs  its  troubled  waters  over  the 
middle  ages. 

"  Tour  black-letter  acquirements,  I  doubt  not,  are  con- 
siderable ;  but  have  you  adverted  to  a  clause  in  Queen 
Elizabeth's  enactment  for  the  improvement  of  the  shipping 
interests  in  the  year  1564  ?  Tou  will,  I  believe,  find  it  to 
run  thus : 

"  Anno  5o  Elis.  cap.  v.  sect.  11 : — '  And  for  encrease  of 
provision  of  fishe  by  the  more  usual  eatiag  thereof,  bee  it 
further  enacted,  that  from  the  feast  of  St.  Mighell  th'arch- 
angell,  ano.  Dni.  fiftene  hundreth  threescore  foure,  every 
"Wednesdaye  in  every  weeke  through  the  whole  yere  shal 
be  hereafter  observed  and  kepte  as  the  Saturdays  in  every 
weeke  be  or  ought  to  be  ;  and  that  no  person  shal  eat  any 
fleshe  no  more  than  on  the  common  Saturdays. 

Sect.  12. — '  And  bee  it  further  enacted  by  th'auctoritee 
aforesaid,  for  the  commoditie  and  benifit  of  this  realme,  as 
well  to  growe  the  navie  as  in  sparing  and  encrease  of  fleshe 
victual,  that  from  and  after  the  feast  of  Pentecost  next 
coming,  yt  shaU  not  be  lawful  for  any  p'son  to  eat  any  fleshe 
upon  any  days  now  usually  observed  as  fish- days  ;  and  that 
any  p'son  offending  herein  shal  forfeite  three  powndes  for 
every  tyme.' 

"  I  do  not  attach  so  much  importance  to  the  act  of  her 
royal  successor,  James  I.,  who  in  1619  issued  a  proclama. 
tion,  reminding  his  English  subjects  of  the  obligation  of 
keeping  Lent ;  because  his  Majesty's  object  is  clearly  ascer- 
tained to  have  been  to  encourage  the  traffic  of  his  country- 
men the  Scotch,  who  had  just  then  embarked  largely  in  the 
herring  trade,  and  for  whom  the  thrifty  Stuart  was  anxious 
to  secure  a  monopoly  in  the  British  markets. 

"  But  wheUj  in  1627, 1  find  the  chivalrous  Charles  I.,  your 
martyred  king,  sending  forth  from  the  banqueting-room  of 
"Whitehall  his  royal  decree  to  the  same  effect,  I  am  at  a  loss 
to  trace  his  motives.  It  is  known  that  Archbishop  Laud's 
advice  went  to  the  effect  of  reinstating  many  customs  of 
Catholicity ;  but,  from  a  more  diligent  consideration  of  the 
subject,  I  am  more  inclined  to  think  that  the  king  wished 
rather,  by  this  display  of  austere  practices,  to  soothe  and 


12  TATHEB  PBOTTT'S   EELIQTTES. 

conciliate  the  Puritanical  portion  of  his  subjects,  whose 
religious  notions  were  supposed  (I  know  not  how  justly)  to 
have  a  tendency  to  self-denial  and  the  mortification  of  the 
flesh.  Certaia  it  is,  that  the  Calvinists  and  Eoundheads 
were  greater  favourites  at  Billingsgate  than  the  high-church 
party ;  from  which  we  may  conclude  that  they  consumed 
more  fish.  A  fact  corroborated  by  the  contemporary  testi- 
mony of  Samuel  Butler,  who  says  that,  when  the  great 
struggle  commenced, 

•Each  fisherwoman  locked  her  fish  up. 
And  trudged  abroad  to  cry,  No  Bishop !' 

"  I  wiU  only  remark,  in  furtherance  of  my  own  views,  that 
the  king's  beef-eaters,  and  the  gormandising  Cavaliers  of 
that  period,  could  never  stand  in  fair  fight  agaiust  the  aus- 
tere and  fasting  Cromwellians. 

"It  is  a  vulgar  error  of  your  countrymen  to  connect 
valour  with  roast  beef,  or  courage  with  plum-pudding. 
There  exists  no  such  association  ;  and  I  wonder  this  national 
mistake  has  not  been  duly  noticed  by  Jeremy  Bentham  ia 
his  '  Book  of  Fallacies.'  As  soon  might  it  be  presumed  that 
the  pot-beUied  Falstaff,  faring  on  venison  and  sack,  could 
overcome  in  prowess  Owen  Griendower,  who,  I  suppose,  fed 
on  leeks  ;  or  that  the  lean  and  emaciated  Cassius  was  not  a 
better  soldier  than  a  well-known  sleek  and  greasy  rogue 
who  fled  from  the  battle  of  Philippi,  and,  as  he  himself 
unblushingly  tells  the  world,  left  his  buckler  behind  him : 
'  Relictd  non  bene  parmuld.' 

"  I  cannot  contain  my  bile  when  I  witness  the  mode  in 
which  the  lower  orders  in  your  country  abuse  the  French, 
for  whom  they  have  found  nothing  in  their  Anglo-Saxon 
vocabulary  so  expressive  of  contempt  as  the  term  'frog- 
eater.'  A  Frenchman  is  not  supposed  to  be  of  the  same 
flesh  and  blood  as  themselves;  but,  like  the  water-snake 
described  in  the  Georgics— 

'  Fiacibus  atram, 
Improbus  ingluviem  ranisque  loquacibua  implet.' 

Hence  it  is  carefully  instilled  into  the  infant  mind  (when 
the  young  idea  is  taught  how  to  shoot),  that  you  won  the 
victories  of  Poitiers  and  Agincourt  mainly  by  the  superio- 
rity of  your  diet.    In  hewing  down  the  ranks  of  the  foeman. 


AX  APOLO&T   FOE  LENT.  13 

much  of  the  English  army's  success  is  of  course  attributed 
to  the  dexterous  management  of  their  cross-bills,  but  con- 
siderably more  to  their  bill  of  fare.  If  I  could  reason  with 
such  simpletons,  I  would  refer  them  to  the  records  of  the 
commissariat  department  of  that  day,  and  open  to  their 
vulgar  gaze  the  folio  vii.  of  Eymer's  Foedera,  where,  in.  the 
twelfth  year  of  Edward  III.,  a.d.  1338,  at  page  1021,  they 
would  find,  that  previous  to  the  victory  of  Cressy  there  were 
shipped  at  Portsmouth,  for  the  use  of  these  gallant  troops, 
fifty  tons  of  Yarmouth  herrings.  Such  were  the  supplies 
(rather  unusual  now  in  the  contracts  at  Somerset  House) 
which  enabled  Edward  and  his  valiant  son  to  drive  the  hosts 
of  France  before  them,  and  roll  on  the  tide  of  war  till  the 
towers  of  Paris  yielded  to  the  mighty  torrent.  After  a 
hasty  repast  on  such  simple  diet,  might  the  Black  Prince 
appropriately  address  his  girded  knights  in  Shakespearian 
phrase, 

'  Thus  far  into  the  bowels  of  the  knd 
Have  we  marched  on  without  impediment.' 

"  The  enemy  sorely  grudged  them  their  supplies.  Eor  it 
appears  by  the  chronicles  of  Enguerrand  de  Monstrellet, 
the  continuator  of  Eroissart,  that  in  1429,  while  the  English 
were  besieging  Orleans,  the  Duke  of  Bedford  sent  from  his 
head- quarters,  Paris,  on  the  Ash  "Wednesday  of  that  year, 
five  hundred  carts  laden  with  herrings,  for  the  use  of  the 
camp  during  Iient,  when  a  party  of  French  noblemen,  viz. 
XaintraUle,  Lahire,  De  la  Tour  de  Chavigny,  and  the  Che- 
valier de  Lafayette  (ancestor  of  the  revolutionary  veteran), 
made  a  desperate  effort  to  intercept  the  convoy.  But  the 
English  detachment,  imder  whose  safeguard  was  this  pre- 
cious deposit,  fought  pro  aris  et  focis  in  its  defence,  and  the 
assailants  were  routed  with  the  loss  of  six  score  knights  and 
much  plebeian  slaughter.  Head  Eapin's  account  of  the 
affi-ay,  which  was  thence  called  '  lajownie  des  harengs.' 

"  W  hat  schoolboy  is  ignorant  of  the  fact,  that  at  the  eve 
of  the  battle  of  Hastings,  which  gave  to  your  Norman  an- 
cestors the  conquest  of  the  island,  the  conduct  of  the  Anglo- 
Britons  was  strongly  contrasted  with  that  of  the  invaders 
from  France ;  for  while  in  Harold's  camp  the  besotted  na- 
tives spent  the  night  in  revelling  and  gluttony,  the -Norman 


14  FATHEE  PEOTTT's    EEXIQTJES. 

chivalry  gave  their  time  to  fasting  and  devotion. — (Gold- 
smith,  A.D.  1066.) 

"  It  has  not  escaped  the  penetrating  mind  of  the  sagacious 
Buffon,  in  his  views  of  man  and  man's  propensities  (which, 
after  all,  are  the  proper  study  of  mankind),  that  a  predilec- 
tion for  light  food  and  spare  diet  has  always  been  the 
characteristic  of  the  Celtic  and  Eastern  races;  while  the 
Teutonic,  the  Sclavonian,  and  Tartar  branches  of  the  human 
family  betray  an  aboriginal  craving  for  heavy  meat,  and  are 
gross  feeders.  In  many  countries  of  Europe  there  has  been 
a  slight  amalgamation  of  blood,  and  the  international  pedi- 
gree in  parts  of  the  Continent  has  become  perplexed  and 
doubtful :  but  the  most  obtuse  observer  can  see  that  the 
phlegmatic  habits  of  the  Prassians  and  Dutch  argue  a  dif- 
ferent genealogical  origin  from  that  which  produced  the 
lively  disposition  of  the  tribes  of  southern  Europe.  The 
best  specimens  extant  of  the  genuine  Celt  are  the  Greeks, 
the  Arabians,  and  the  Irish,  all  of  whom  are  temperate  in 
their  food.  Among  European  denominations,  in  proportion 
as  the  Celtic  infusion  predominates,  so  in  a  corresponding 
ratio  is  the  national  character  for  abstemiousness.  Nor 
would  I  thus  dwell  on  an  otherwise  uninteresting  specula- 
tion, were  I  not  about  to  draw  a  corollary,  and  shew  how 
these  secret  influences  became  apparent  at  what  is  called 
the  great  epoch  of  the  Eeformation.  The  latent  tendency 
to  escape  from  fasting  observances  became  then  revealed, 
and  what  had  lain  dormant  for  ages  was  at  once  developed. 
The  Tartar  and  Sclavonic  breed  of  men  flung  off  the  yoke 
of  Eome ;  while  the  Celtic  races  remained  faithful  to  the 
successor  of  the  '  Eisherman,'  and  kept  Lent. 

"  The  Hollanders,  the  Swedes,  the  Saxons,  the  Prussians, 
and  in  Germany  those  circles  in  which  the  Gothic  blood 
ran  heaviest  and  most  stagnant,  hailed  Luther  as  a  deliverer 
from  salt  fish.  The  fatted  calf  was  killed,  bumpers  of 
ale  went  round,  and  Popery  went  to  the  dogs.  Half  Europe 
followed  the  impetus  given  to  free  opinions,  and  the  con- 
genial impulse  of  the  gastric  juice;  joining  in  reform, 
not  because  they  loved  Eome  less,  but  because  they  loved 
substantial  fare  more.  Meantime  neighbours  differed.  The 
Dutch,  duU  and  opaque  as  their  ownZuidersee,  growled  de- 
fiance at  tlie  Vatican  when  their  food  was  to  be  controlled ; 


XS   APOLOGY  FOE  LENT.  15 

the  Belgians,  being  a  stade  nearer  to  the  Celtic  family, 
submitted  to  the  fast.  "While  Hamburg  clung  to  its  beef, 
and  Westphalia  preserved  her  hams,  Munich  and  Bavaria 
adhered  to  the  Pope  and  to  sour-crout  with  desperate 
fidelity.  As  to  the  Cossacks,  and-  all  that  set  of  northern 
marauders,  they  never  kept  Lent  at  any  time  ;  and  it  would 
be  arrant  folly  to  expect  that  the  horsemen  of  the  river 
Don,  and  the  Esquimaux  of  the  polar  latitudes,  would  think 
of  restricting  their  ravenous  propensities  in  a  Christian 
fashion ;  the  ^  very  system  of  cookery  adopted  by  these 
terrible  hordes  would,  I  fear,  have  given  Dr.  Kitchiner  a  fit 
of  cholera.  The  apparatiis  is  graphically  described  by 
Samuel  Butler :  I  wHl  iadulge  you  with  part  of  the  quo- 
tation : 

'  For  like  their  countrymen  the  Huns, 
They  6tew  their  meat  under  + 

#  '  *  *  m 

All  day  on  horses'  backs  they  straddle, 
Then  every  man  eats  up  his  saddle !' 

A  strange  process,  no  doubt :  but  not  without  some  sort  of 
precedent  in  classic  records  ;  for  the  Latin  poet  iatroduces 
young  lulus  at  a  picnic,  in  the  JEneid,  exclaiming — 

'  Heus !  etiam  mensas  consumimus.' 

"  In  England,  as  the  inhabitants  are  of  a  mixed  descent, 
and  as  there  has  ever  been  a  disrelish  for  any  alteration  in  the 
habits  and  fireside  traditions  of  the  country,  the  fish- days 
were  remembered  long  after  every  Popish  observance  had 
become  obsolete  ;  and  it  was  not  until  1668  that  butchers' 
meat  finally  established  its  ascendency  in  Lent,  at  the 
arrival  of  the  Dutchman.  We  have  seen  the  exertions  of 
the  Tudor  dynasty  under  Elizabeth,  and  of  the  house  of 
Stuart  under  James  I.  and  Charles  I.,  to  keep  up  these 
fasts,  which  had  flourished  in  the  days  of  the  Plantagenets, 
which  the  Heptarchy  had  revered,  which  Alfred  and  Canute 
had  scrupulously  observed,  and  which  had  come  down  posi- 
tively recommended  by  the  Venerable  Bede.  WiUiam  III. 
gave  a  death-blow  to  Lent.  Until  then  it  had  lingered 
among  the  threadbare  curates  of  the  country,  extrema  per 

+  Hudibras,  Canto  ii.  1.  2V5. 


16  TATHEE  PBOUT'S  EELIQrES. 

illos  excedens  terris  vestigia  fecit,  having  been  long  before 
exiled  from  the  gastronomic  haU  of  both  UniversitieB.  But 
its  extinction  was  complete.  Its  ghost  might  still  remain, 
flitting  through  the  land,  without  corporeal  or  ostensible 
form ;  and  it  vanished  totally  with  the  fated  star  of  the 
Pretender.  It  was  William  who  conferred  the  honour  of 
knighthood  on  the  loin  of  beef;  and  such  was  the  progress 
of  disaffection  under  Queen  Anne,  that  the  folks,  to  mani- 
fest their  disregard  for  the  Pope,  agreed  that  a  certain  ex- 
tremity of  the  goose  should  be  denominated  his  nose ! 

"The  indomitable  spirit  of  the  Celtic  Irish  preserved 
Lent  in  this  country  unimpaired;  an  event  of  such  import- 
ance to  England,  that  I  shall  dwell  on  it  by  and  by  more 
fully.  The  Spaniards  and  Portuguese,  although  Gothic  and 
Saracen  blood  has  commiagled  ia  the  pure  current  of  their 
Phoenician  pedigree,  clung  to  Lent  with  characteristic 
tenacity.  The  GaUic  race,  even  in  the  days  of  Caesar,  were 
remarkably  temperate,  and  are  so  to  the  present  day.  The 
French  very  justly  abhor  the  gross,  carcase-eating  propen- 
sities of  John  Bull.  But  as  to  the  keeping  of  Lent,  ia  an 
ecclesiastical  poiat  of  view,  I  cannot  take  on  myself  to 
vouch,  since  the  ruffianly  revolution,  for  their  orthodoxy  iu 
that  or  any  other  religious  matters.  They  are  sadly  deficient 
therein,  though  still  delicate  and  refined  in  their  cookery, 
like  one  of  their  own  artistes,  whose  epitaph  is  in  P^re  la 
Chaise — 

'  Ci  git  qui  d&s  l'4ge  le  plus  tendre 

Inventa  la  sauce  Robert ; 
Mais  jamais  il  ne  put  apprendre 
Ni  son  credo  ni  son  pater.' 

"  It  was  not  so  of  old,  when  the  pious  monarchs  of  France 
dined  publicly  in  Passion  week  on  fasting  fare,  in  order  to 
recommend  by  their  example  the  use  of  fish — when  the 
heir-apparent  to  the  crown  delighted  to  be  called  a  dolphin 
— and  when  one  of  your  own  kings,  being  on  a  visit  to 
France,  got  so  fond  of  their  lamprey  patties,  that  he  died  of 
indigestion  on  his  return. 

"  Antiquity  has  left  us  no  document  to  prove  that  the 
early  Spartans  kept  certain  days  of  abstinence  ;  but  their 
black  broth,  of  which  the  ingredients  have  puzzled  the 


AN  APOIOGT   FOE  LEWT.  17 

learned,  must  have  been  a  fitting  substitute  for  the  soupe 
maigre  of  our  Lent,  since  it  required  a  hard  run  on  the 
banks  of  the  Eurotas  to  make  it  somewhat  palatable.  At 
aU  events,  their  great  lawgiver  vf  as  an  eminent  ascetic,  and 
applied  himself  much  to  restrict  the  diet-  of  his  hardy  coun- 
trymen ;  and  if  it  is  certain  that  there  existed  a  mystic 
bond  of  union  among  the  300  Lacedemonians  who  stood  in 
the  gap  of  Thermopylse,  it  assuredly  was  not  a  beef-steak 
club  of  which  Leonidas  was  president. 

"  The  Athenians  were  too  ^  cultivated  a  people  not  to 
appreciate  the  value  of  periodical  days  of  self-denial  and 
abstemiousness.  Accordingly,  on  the  eve  of  certain  fes- 
tivals, they  fed  exclusively  on  figs  ahd  the  honey  of  Mount 
Hymettus.  Plutarch  expressly  tells  us  that  a  solemn  fast 
preceded  the  celebration  of  the  Thermophoria  ;  thence 
termed  vrigriia.  In  looking  over  the  works  of  the  great 
geographer  Strabo  (Hb.  xiv.),  I  find  sufficient  evidence  of 
the  respect  paid  io  fish  by  the  inhabitants  of  a  distinguished 
Greek  city,  in  which  that  erudite  author  says  the  arrival  of 
the  fishing-smacks  in  the  harbour  was  announced  joyfully 
by  sounding  the  "tocsin;"  and  that  the  musicians  in  the 
public  piazza  were  left  abruptly  by  the  crowd,  whenever  the 
bell  tolled  for  the  sale  of  the  herrings  :  x/ha^taiov  ividimmf/^ii/ou 
Ticiig  ,u>sv  axgoccc^cii  vccvrag-  ug  ds  o  xudoiv  o  Kara,  rriv  o-vj/offnoX/av 
e-^o(pri(Se  xaraXi'jrovTig  a'lrsXkiv  im  to  o-vJ/ov.  A  custom  to  which 
Plutarch  also  refers  in  hfs  Symposium  of  Plato,  lib.  iv.  cap. 
4.    5-ous   'ffe^i   i^Suo'ffcaXiav   avaSidovTas   xoti   tou    suadoivog  o^jws 

,  "  That  practices  similar  to  our  Lent  existed  among  the 
Eomans,  may  be  gathered  from  various  sources.  In  Ovid's 
Fasti  (notwithstanding  the  title)  I  find  nothing ;  but  from 
the  reUques  of  old  sacerdotal  memorials  collected  by 
Stephano  Morcelli,  it  appears  that  Numa  fitted  himself  by 
fasting  for  an  interview  with  the  mysterious  inmate  of 
Egeria's  grotto.  Livy  tells  us  that  the  decemvirs,  on 
the  occurrence  of  certain  prodigies,  were  instructed  by  a 
vote  of  the  senate  to  consult  the  Sibylline  books ;  and 
the  result  was  the  establishment  of  a  fast  in  honour  of 
Ceres,  to  be  observed  perpetually  every  five  years.  It  is 
hard  to  teU.  whether  Horace    is    in  joke   or  in  earnest 

1  See  Translation  in  Bohn's  Strato,  Vol.  iii.  p.  37. 

C 


1§  FATHEB  PEOn'S  BELIQUES. 

when  he  introduces  a  vow  relative  to  these  days  of 
penance — 

'  Prigida  si  puerum  quartana  reliquerit  illo 
MaD&  die  quo  tu  indicia  jejunia  nudus 
In  T^beri  stabit !'     Serm.  lib.  ii.  sat.  3.  v.  290. 

But  we  are  left  in  the  dark  as  to  whether  they  observed  their 
fasts  by  restricting  themselves  to  lentils  and  vegetable  diet, 
or  whether  fish  was  allowed.  On  this  interesting  point 
we  find  nothiag  in  the  laws  of  the  twelve  tables.  However,' 
a  marked  predilection  for  herbs, '  and  such  frugal  fare,  was 
distinctive  of  the  old  Eomans,  as  the  very  names  of  the 
principal  families  sufficiently  indicate.  The  Pabii,  for  in- 
stance, were  so  called  from  faba,  a  bean,  on  which  simple 
aliment  that  inde&tigable  race  of  heroes  subsisted  for  many 
generations.  The  noble  line  of  the  LentuU  derive  their 
patronymic  from  a  favourite  kind  of  lentil,  to  which  they 
were  partial,  and  from  which  Lent  itself  is  so  called.  The 
aristocratic  Pisoes  were  similarly  circumstanced  ;  for  their 
family  appellation  will  be  found  to  signify  a  kind  of  vetches. 
Scipio  was  titled  from  cepe,  an  onion ;'  and  we  may  trace 
the  surname  and  hereditary  honours  of  the  great  Eoman 
orator  to  the  same  horticultural  source,  for  cicer  in  Latin 
means  a  sort  of  pea ;  and  so  on  through  the  whole  nomen- 
clature, 

"  Hence  the  Eoman  satirist,  ever  alive  to  the  follies  of  his 
age,  can  find  nothing  more  ludicrous  than  the  notion  of  the 
Egyptians,  who  entertained  a  religious  repugnance  to  vege-. 
table  fare : 

'  Porriim  et  cepe  nefas  violare  et  frangere  moreu, 
^O  sanotas  gentes  !'  Jtjv.  Sat.  15. 

And  as' to  fish,  the  fondness  of  the  people  of  his  day  for  such 
food  can  be  demonstrated  from  his  fourth  satire,  where  he 
dwells  triumphantly  on  the  capture  of  a  splendid  tunny  in 
the  waters  of  the  Adriatic,  arid  describes  the  assembling  of 
a  cabinet  council  in  the  "  Downing  Street ''  of  Eome  to 
determine  how  it  should  be  properly  cooked.  It  must  be 
admitted  that,  since  the  Whigs  came  to  offi.ce,  although  they 

'  Here  Prout  18  in  error.  Scipio  means  a  "  walking-etick,"  and  com- 
loeinorates  the  filial  piety  of  one  of  the  gens  Cornelia,  who  went  about 
eonetantly  supporting  his  tottering  aged  fether. — O.  Y. 


AN  APOLOGY  TOE  LENT.  19 

have  had  many  a  pretty  kettle  of  fish  to  deliberate  upon,  they 
have  shown  nothing  half  so  dignified  or  rational  in  their 
decisions  as  the  imperial  privy  council  of  Domitian. 

"  The  magnificence  displayed  by  the  masters  of  the  world 
in  getting  up  fish-ponds  is  a  fact  which  every  schoolboy  has 
learnt,  as  well  as  that  occasionally  the  murcence  were  treated  to 
the  luxury  of  a  slave  or  two,  flung  in  alive  for  their  nutri- 
ment. The  celebrity  which  the  maritime  villas  of  Baise  ob- 
tained for  that  fashionable  watering-place,  is  a  further  argu- 
ment in  point ;  and  we  know  that  when  the  reprobate  Verres 
was  driven  into  exile  by.  the  brilliant  declamation  of  Cicero, 
he  consoled  himself  at  Marseilles  over  a  local  dish  oiAnguilles 
d  la  Marseillaise. 

"  Simplicity  and  good  taste  in  diet  gradually  declining  in 
the  Eoman  empire,  the  gigantic  frame  of  the  colossus  itself 
soon  hastened  to  decay.  It  burst  of  its  own  plethory.  The 
example  of  the  degenerate  court  had  pervaded  the  provinces ; 
and  soon  the  whole  body  politic  reeled,  as  after  a  surfeit  of 
debauchery.  Yitellius  had  gorfnandised  with  vulgar  glut- 
tony ;  the  Emperor  Maximinus  was  a  living  sepulchre,  where 
whole  hecatombs  of  butchers'  meat  were  daily  entombed ;' 
and  no  modern  keeper  of  a  table  d'Adte  could  stand  a  suc- 
cession of  such  guests  as  Heliogabalus.  Gribbon,  whose 
penetrating  eye  nothing  has  escaped  in  the  causes  of  the 
Decline  and  Fall,  notices  this  vile  propensity  to  overfeeding ; 
and  shows  that,  to  reconstruct  the  mighty  system  of 
dominion  established  by  the  rugged  republicans  (the  Tabii, 
the  Lentuli,  and  the  Pisoes),  nothing  but  a  bond  fide  return 
to  simple  fare  and  homely  pottage  could  be  efiectual.  The 
hint  was  duly  acted  on.  The  Popes,  frugal  and  abstemious, 
ascended  the  vacant  throne  of  the  Cassars,  and  ordered  Lent 
to  be  observed  throughout  the  eastern  and  western  world. 

"  The  theory  of  fasting,  and  its  practical  application,  did 
wonders  in  that  emergency.  It  renovated  the  rotten  con- 
stitution of  Europe — it  tamed  the  hungry  hordes  of  despe- 
rate savages  that  rushed  down  with  a  war-whoop  on  the 
prostrate  ruins  of  the  empire — it  taught  them  self-control, 
and  gave  them  a  masterdom  over  their  barbarous  propensi- 
ties ; — it  did  more,  it  originated  civilisation  and  commerce. 

'  It  18  said  that  in  a  single  day  he  could  devour  forty  pounds  oimeat 
and  drink  an  amphora  of  wine. 

c2 


20  lATHEE  PEOUT'S   EELIQTTES. 

"  A  few  straggling  fishermen  built  huts  on  the  flats  of  the 
Adriatic,  for  the  convenience  of  resorting  thither  in  Lent, 
to  procure  their  annual  supply  of  fish.  The  demand  for  that 
article  becalme  so  brisk  and  so  extensive  through  the  vast 
dominions  of  the  Lombards  ia  northern  Italy,  that  from  a 
temporary  establishment  it  became  a  permanent  colony  in 
the  lagunes.  Working  like  the  coral  insect  under  the  seas, 
with  the  same  unconsciousness  of  the  mighty  result  of  their 
labours,  these  industrious  men  for  a  century  kept  on  en- 
larging their  nest  upon  the  waters,  till  their  enterprize  be- 
came fuUy  developed,  and 

'  Venice  sat  in  state,  throned  on  a  himdred  isles.' 

"  The  fasting  necessities  of  France  and  Spain  were  minis- 
tered to  by  the  rising  republic  of  Genoa,  whose  origin  I 
delight  to  trace  from  a  small  fishing  town  to  a  mighty  em- 
porium of  commerce,  fit  cradle  to  rock  (in  the  infant  Co- 
lumbus) the  destinies  of  a  new  world.  Pew  of  us  have 
turned  our  attention  to  the  fact,  that  our  favourite  fish,  the 
John  Dory,  derives  its  name  from  the  Genoese  admiral, 
Doria,  whose  seamanship  best  thrived  on  meagre  diet.  Of 
Anne  Chovy,  who  has  given  her  name  to  another  fish  found 
in  the  Sardinian  waters,  no  record  remains ;  but  she  was 
doubtless  a  heroine.  Indeed,  to  revert  to  the  humble  her- 
ring before  you,  its  etymology  shews  it  to  be  well  adapted 
for  warlike  stomachs,  heer  (its  German  root)  signifying  an 
army.  In  England,  is  not  a  soldier  synonymous  with  a 
lobster  ? 

"  In  the  progress  of  maritime  industry  along  the  shores  of 
southern,  and  subsequently  of  northern  Europe,  we  find  a 
love  for  freedom  to  grow  up  with  a  fondness  for  fish.  Enter- 
prise and  liberty  flourished  among  the  islands  of  the  Archi- 
pelago. And  when  Naples  was  to  be  rescued  from  thraldom, 
it  was  the  hardy  race  of  watermen  who  plied  in  her  beau- 
teous bay,  that  rose  at  Ereedom's  call  to  effect  her  deliverance, 
when  she  basked  for  one  short  hour  in  its  full  sunshine  under 
the  gallant  Masaniello. 

"  As  to  the  commercial  grandeur,  of  which  a  constant 
demand  for  fish  was  the  creating  principle,  to  illustrate  its 
importance,  I  need  only  refer  to  a  remarkable  expression  of 


AN   APOLOGT   rOB.   LENT.  21 

that  deep  politician,  and  ezceedinglj  clever  economist, 
Charles  V.,  when,  on  a  progress  through  a  part  of  his  do- 
minions, on  which  the  sun  at  that  period  never  went  down, 
he  happened  to  pass  through  Amsterdam,  in  company  with 
the  Queen  of  Hungary :  on  that  occasion,  being  compli- 
mented in  the  usual  form  by  the  burgomasters  of  his  faith- 
ful city,  he  asked  to  see  the  mausoleum  of  John  Bachalen, 
the  famous  herring-barreler ;  but  when  told  that  his  grave, 
simple  and  unadorned,  lay  in  his  native  island  in  the  Zuyder- 
see,  '  What !'  cried  the  illustrious  visitor,  '  is  it  thus  that  my 
people  of  the  Netherlands  shew  their  gratitude  to  so  great 
a  man  ?  Know  ye  not  that  the  foundations  of  Amsterdam 
are  laid  on  herring-bones  ?'  Their  majesties  went  on  a  pil- 
grimage to  his  tomb,  as  is  related  by  Sir  Hugh  "WUloughby 
in  his  '  Historie  of  Kshes.' 

"  It  would  be  of  immense  advantage  to  these  countries 
were  we  to  return  unanimously  to  the  ancient  practice,  and 
restore  to  the  full  extent  of  their  wise  policy  the  laws  of 
Elizabeth.  The  revival  of  Lent  is  the  sole  remedy  for  the 
national  complaints  on  the  decline  of  the  shipping  interest, 
the  sole  way  to  meet  the  outcry  about  corn-laws.  Instead 
of  Mr.  Attwood's  project  for  a  change  of  currency,  Mr. 
Wilmot  Horton's  panacea  of  emigration,  and  Miss  Marti- 
neau's  preventive  check,  re-enact  Lent.  But  mark,  I  do 
not  go  so  far  as  to  say  that  by  this  means  all  and  every- 
thing desirable  can  be  accomplished,  nor  do  I  undertake  by 
it  to  pay  /)ff  the  national  debt — though  the  Lords  of  the 
Treasury  might  learn  that,  when  the  disciple's  were  at  a  loss 
to  meet  the  demand  of  tax-collectors  in  their  day,  they 
caught  a  fish,  and  found  in  its  gills  sufficient  to  satisfy  the 
revenue.     (-S^.  Matthew,  chap,  xvii.) 

"  Of  all  the  varied  resources  of  this  great,  empire,  the 
most  important,  in  a  national  point  of  view,  has  long  been  . 
the  portion  of  capital  afloat  in  the  merchantmen,  and 
the  strength  invested  in  the  navy  of  Grreat  Britain.  True, 
the  British  thunder  has  too  long  slept  under  a  sailor-king, 
and  under  so  many  galling  national  insults ;  and  it  were 
full  time  to  say  that  it  shall  no  longer  sleep  on  in  the 
grave  where  Sir  James  Grraham  has  laid  it.  But  my  con- 
cern is  principally  for  the  alarming  depression  of  our  mer- 
chants' property  in  vessels,  repeatedly  proved  in  evidence 


22  FATHEE  PEOITt'S  EEIIQJTES. 

before  your  House  of  Commons.  Poulett  Thomson  is  right 
to  call  attention  to  the  cries  of  the  shipowners,  and  to  that 
dismal  howling  from  the  harbours,  described  by  the  prophet 
as  the  forerunner  of  the  fall  of  Babylon. 

"  The  best  remedial  measure  would  be  a  resumption  of 
fish-diet  during  a  portion  of  the  year.  Talk  not  of  a  resump- 
tion of  cash  payments,  of  opening  the  trade  to  China,  or  of 
finding  a  north-west  passage  to  national  prosperity.  Talk 
not  of  '  calling  spirits  from  the  vasty  deep,'  when  you  neg- 
lect to  elicit  food  and  employment  for  thousands  from  its 
exuberant  bosom.  Visionary  projectors  are  never  without 
some  complex  system  of  beneficial  improvement ;  but  I 
would  say  of  them,  in  the  words  of  an  Irish  gentleman  who 
has  lately  travelled  in  search  of  religion, 

'  They  may  talk  of  the  nectar  that  sparkled  for  Helen — 
Theirs  is  a  fiction,  but  this  is  reality.' 

Melodies. 

Demand  would  create  supply,  flotillas  would  issue  from 
every  sea-port  in  the  spring,  and  ransack  the  treasures  of 
the  ocean  for  the  periodical  market :  and  the  wooden  walls 
of  Old  England,  instead  of  crumbling  into  so  much  rotten 
timber,  would  be  converted  into  so  many  huge  wooden 
spoons  to  feed  the  population. 

"  It  has  been  sweetly  sung,  as  well  as  wisely  said,  by  a 
genuine  English  writer,  that 

'  Full  many  a  gem  of  purest  ray  serene 

The  dark,  unfathom'd  caves  of  ocean  bear!' 

To  these  undiscovered  riches  Lent  would  point  the  national 
eye,  and  direct  the  national  energies.  Very  absurd  would 
then  appear  the  forebodings  of  the  croakers,  who  with  some 
plausibility  now  predict  the  approach  of  national  bankruptcy 
and  famine.  Time  enough  to  think  of  that  remote  contin- 
gency when  the  sea  shall  be  eihausted  of  its  live  bullion, 
and  the  abyss  shall  cry  '  Hold,  enough  !'  Time  enough  to 
fear  a  general  stoppage,  when  the  run  on  the  Dogger  Bank 
ahaU  have  produced  a  failure — when  the  shoals  of  the  teem- 
ing north  shall  have  refused  to  meet  their  engagements  in 
the  sunny  waters  of  the  south,  and  the  drafts  of  the  net 
shall  have  been  dishonoured. 
"  I  admire  Edmund  Burke ;  who  in  his  speech  on  Ameri- 


AN   APOLOGX   rOE  LENT.  23 

can  conciliation,  has  an  argumentum  piscatorium  quite  to  my 
fancy.     Tolle  !  lege  ! 

" '  As  to  the  wealth  which  these  colonies  have  derived 
from  the  sea  by  their  fisheries,  you  had  all  that  matter  fully 
opened  at  your  bar.  Tou  surely  thought  these  acquisitions 
of  value ;  for  they  even  seemed  to  excite  your .  envy.  And 
j'et  the  spirit  with  which  that  enterprising  employment  has 
been  exercised  ought  rather,  in  my  opinion,  to  have  raised 
your  esteem  and  admiration.  And  pray,  sir,  what  in  the 
world  is  equal  to  it  ?  Look  at  the  manner  in  which  the 
people  of  New  England  have  carried  on  their  fishery. 
While  we  follow  them  among  the  tumbling  mountains  of 
ice,  penetrating  into  the  deepest  recesses  of  Hudson's 
Bay;  while  we  are  looking  for  them  beneath  the  arctic 
circle,  we  hear  that  they  have  pierced  into  the  opposite 
region  of  polar  cold, — that  they  are  at  the  antipodes,  and 
engaged  under  the  frozen  serpent  of  the  south.  Falkland 
Island,  which  seemed  too  remote  and  romantic  an  object  for 
the  grasp  of  national  ambition,  is  but  a  st^ge  and  resting 
place  in  the  progress  of  their  victorious  industry.  Nor  is 
the  equinoctial  heat  more  discouraging  to  them,  than  the 
accumulated  winter  of  both  the  poles.  We  know,  that 
while  some  of  them  draw  the  line  and  strike  the  harpoon 
on  the  coast  of  Africa,  others  run  the  longitude,  and  pursue 
their  gigantic  game  along  the  shores  of  Brazil :  no  sea  that 
is  not  vexed  by  their  fisheries,  no  climate  that  is  not  witness 
to  their  toils !' 

"  Snch  glorious  imaginings  and  beatific  dreams  would  (I 
speak  advisedly)  be  realised  in  these  countries  by  Lent's 
magic  spfeU ;  and  I  have  no  .doubt  that  our  patriot  King, 
the  patron  of  so  many  very  questionable  reforms,  will  see 
the  propriety  of  restoring  the  laws  of  Elizabeth  in  this  mat- 
ter. Stanislaus,  the  late  pious  king  of  Lorraine,  so  endeared 
himself  to  his  subjects  in  general,  and  market-gardeners  in 
particular,  by  his  sumptuary  regulations  respecting  vege- 
table diet  in  Lent,  that  in  the  hortus  siccus  of  Nancy  his 
statue  has  been  placed,  with  an  appropriate  inscription : — 

'  Vitales  inter  sucoos  herbasque  salubres, 
Qu^  bene  stat  populi  vita  salusque  sui !' 

"  A  similar  compliment  would  await  his  present  Majesty 


24  rATHEE  PEorT'S   EELIQTJES. 

William  IV.  from  the  shipowners  and  the  '  worshipfiJ. 
fishmongers'  Company,'  if  he  should  adopt  the  suggestion 
thrown  out  here.  He  would  figure  colossaUy  in  Trafalgar 
Square,  pointing  with  his  trident  to  Hungerford  Market. 
The  three-pronged  instrument  in  his  hand  would  be  a  most 
appropriate  emblem  (much  more  so  than  on  the  pinnacle  of 
Buckingham  Palace),  since  it  would  signify  equally  well  the 
fork  with  which  he  fed  his  people,  and  the  sceptre  with 
which  he  ruled  the  world. 

'  Le  trident  de  Neptune  est  le  sceptre  du  monde !' 

"  Then  would  be  solved  the  grand  problem  of  the  Corn-law  , 
question.  Hitherto  my  Lord  Fitzwilliam  has  taken  nothing 
by  his  motions.  But  were  Lent  proclaimed  at  Charing 
Cross  and  Temple  Bar,  and  through  the  market  towns  of 
England,  a  speedy  fall  in  the  price  of  grazing  stock,  though 
it  might  affict  Lord  Althorp,  would  eventually  harmonise 
the  jarring  interests  of  agriculture  and  manufacturing  in- 
dustry. The  superabundant  population  of  the  farming  dis- 
tricts would  crowd  to  the  coast,  and  find  employment  in  the 
fisheries;  while  Devonshire  House  would  repudiate  for  a 
time  the  huge  sirloin,  and  receiving  as  a  substitute  the  pon- 
derous turbot,  Spitalfields  would  exhibit  on  her  frugal  board 
salt  ling  flanked  with  potatoes.  A  salutary  taste  for  fish 
would  be  created  in  the  inmost  recesses  of  the  island,  an 
epoch  most  beneficial  to  the  country  would  take  date  from 
that  enactment. 

'  Omne  quum  Proteua  peous  e^t  altoa 
Viaere  montes.' 

STor  need  the  landlords  take  alarm.  People  would  not 
plough  the  ground  less  because  they  might  plough  the  deep 
more ;  and  while  smiling  Ceres  would  still  walk  through 
our  isle  with  her  horn  of  plenty,  Thetis  would  follow  in  her 
train  with  a  rival  cornucopia. 

"  Mark  the  effects  of  this  observance  in  Ireland,  where 
it  continues  in  its  primitive  austerity,  undiminished,  im- 
shom  of  its  beams.  The  Irish  may  be  wrong,  but  the  eon- 
sequences  to  Protestant  England  are  immense.  To  Lent 
you  owe  the  connexion  of  the  two  islands ;  it  is  the  golden 
link  that  binds  the  two  kingdoms  together.    Abolish  fasting, 


AN  ATOLOaT  FOE  liENT.  25 

and  from  that  evil  hour  no  beef  or  pork  would  he  suffered 
by  the  wild  natives  to  go  over  to  your  English  markets  ;  and 
the  export  of  provisions  would  be  discontinued  by  a  people, 
that  had  ujilearned  the  lessons  of  starvation.  Adieu  to 
shipments  of  live  stock  and  consignments  of  bacon !  Were 
there  not  some  potent  mysterious  spell  over  this  country, 
think  you  we  should  allow  the  fat  of  the  land  to  be  ever- 
lastingly abstracted  ?  Let  us  learn  that  there  is  no  virtue 
in  Lent,  and  repeal  is  triumphant  to-morrow.  We  are  in 
truth  a  most  abstemious  race.  Hence  our  great  superiority 
over  our  Protestant  fellow-countrymen  in  the  jury-box.  It 
having  been  found  that  they  could  never  hold  out  agaiast 
hunger  as  we  can,  when  locked  up,  and  that  the  verdict  was 
generally  carried  by  popish  obstinacy,  former  administra- 
tions discountenanced  our  admission  to  serve  on  juries  at 
all.  By  an  oversight  of  Sergeant  Lefroy,  all  this  has  escaped 
the  framers  of  the  new  jury  bill  for  Ireland. 

"  To  return  to  the  Irish  exports.  The  principal  item  is 
that  of  pigs.  The  hog  is  as  essential  an  inmate  of  the  Irish 
cabia  as  the  Arab  steed  of  the  shepherd's  tent  on  the  plains 
of  Mesopotamia.  Both  are  looked  on  as  part  of  the  house- 
hold ;  and  the  affectionate  manner  in  ■which  these  dumb 
friends  of  the  family  are  treated,  here  as  weU  as  there,  is  a 
trait  of  national  resemblance,  denoting  a  common  origin. 
We  are  quite  oriental  in  most  of  our  peculiarities.  The 
learned  VaUancey  wiU  have  it,  that  our  consanguinity  is 
with  the  Je^ws.  I  might  elucidate  the  colonel's  discovery, 
by  shewing  how  the  pig  iu  Ireland  plays  the  part  of  the 
scape-goat  of  the  Israelites :  he  is  a  sacred  thing,  gets  the 
run  of  the  kitchen,  is  rarely  molested,  never  killed,  but  alive 
and  buoyant  leaves  the  cabin  when  taken  off  by  the  land- 
lord's driver  for  arrears  of  rent,  and  is  then  shipped  clean 
out  of  the  country,  to  be  heard  of  no  more.  Indeed,  the 
pigs  of  Ireland  bear  this  notable  resemblance  to  their  cou- 
sins of  Judea,  that  nothing  can  keep  them  from  the  sea, — • 
a  tendency  which  strikes  aU  travellers  in  the  interior  of  the 
island  whenever  they  meet  our  droves  of  swine  precipitating 
themselves  towards  the  outports  for  shipment. 

"  To  ordinary  observers  this  forbearance  of  the  most  iU-fed 
people  on  the  face  of  the  globe  towards  their  pigs  would 
appear  inexplicable;  and  tf  you  have  read  the  legend  of 


26  FATHEE  PEOrT's  EELIQrES. 

Saint  Anthony  and  his  pig,  you  will  understand  the  value  of 
their  resistance  to  temptation. 

"  They  have  a  great  resource  in  the  potato.  This  capital 
esculent  grows  nowhere  in  such  perfection,  not  even  in 
America,  where  it  is  indigenous.  But  it  has  often  struck 
me  that  a  great  national  delinquency  has  occurred  in  the 
sad  neglect  of  people  iu  this  country  towards  the  memory  of 
the  great  and  good  man  who  conferred  on  us  So  valuable  a 
boon,  on  his  return  from  the  expedition  to  "Virginia.  To 
Sir  Walter  Ealeigh  no  monument  has  yet  been  erected,  and 
nothing  has  been  done  to  repair  the  injustice  of  his  contem- 
poraries. His  head  has  rolled  from  the  scaffold  on  Tower 
Hill ;  and  though  he  has  fed  with  his  discovery  more  fami- 
lies, and  given  a  greater  impulse  to  population,  than  any 
other  benefactor  of  mankind,  no  testimonial  exists  to  com- 
memorate his  benefaction.  Nelson  has  a  pillar  iu  DubHn  :— 
in  the  city  of  Limerick  a  whole  column  has  been  devoted  to 
Spring  Eice ! !  and  the  mighty  genius  of  Raleigh  is  forgotten. 
I  have  seen  some  animals  feed  under  the  majestic  oak  on 
the  acorns  that  fell  from  its  spreading  branches  {glande 
sues  lati),  without  once  looking  up  to  the  parent  tree  that 
showered  down  blessings  on  their  ungrateful  heads." 

Here  endeth  the  "Apology,"  and  so  abruptly  terminate 
my  notes  of  Prout's  Lenten  vindicice.  But,  alas  !  stUl  more 
abrupt  was  the  death  of  this  respectable  divine,  which  oc- 
curred last  month,  on  Shrove  Tuesday.  There  was  a  peculiar 
fitness  in  the  manner  of  Anacreon's  exit  from  this  life ;  but 
not  so  in  the  melancholy  termination  of  Prout's  abstemious 
career,  an  account  of  which  is  conveyed  to  me  in  a  long  and 
pathetic  letter  from  my  agent  in  Ireland.  It  was  well 
known  that  he  disliked  revelry  on  all  occasions ;  but  if  there 
was  a  species  of  gormandising  which  he  more  especially 
abhorred,  it  was  that  practised  in  the  parish  on  pancake- 
night,  which  he  frequently  endeavoured  to  discountenance 
and  put  down,  but  unsuccessfully.  Oft  did  he  tell  his  rude 
auditors  (for  he  was  a  profound  Hellenist)  that  such  orgies 
had  originated  with  the  heathen  G-reeks,  and  had  been  even 
among  them  the  source  of  many  evils,  as  the  very  name 
shewed,  wai/  xaxov !  So  it  would  appear,  by  Prout's  etymc- 
logy  of  the  pancake,  that  in  the  English  language  there 


AN  APOLOGY   rOE  liENT.  27 

are  many  terms  which  answer  the  description  of  Horace, 
and 

'  Orseco  fonte  cadunt  paroe  detorta.' 

Contrary  to  his  own  better  taste  and  sounder  judgment, 
he  was,  however,  on  last  Shrove  Tuesday,  at  a  wedding-feast 
of  some  of  my  tenantry,  induced,  from  complacency  to  the 
newly -married  couple,  to  eat  of  the  profane  aliment ;  and 
never  was  the  Attic  derivation  of  the  pancake  more  wofully 
accomplished  than  in  the  sad  result— for  his  condescension 
cost  him  his  life.  The  indigestible  nature  of  the  compost 
itself  might  not  have  been  so  destructive  in  an  ordinary 
case ;  but  it  was  quite  a  stranger  and  ill  at  ease  in  Pather 
Prout's  stomach :  it  eventually  proved  fatal  in  its  efi'ects, 
and  hurried  him  away  from  this  vale  of  tears,  leaving  the 
parish  a  widow,  and  making  orphans  of  all  his  parishioners. 
My  agent  writes  that  his  funeral  (or  herring,  as  the  Irish 
call  it)  was  thronged  by  dense  multitudes  from  the  whole 
county,  and  was  as  well  attended  as  if  it  were  a  monster 
meeting.  The  whole  body  of  his  brother  clergy,  with  the 
bishop  as  usual  in  full  pontificals,  were  mourners  on  the 
occasion ;  and  a  Latin  elegy  was  composed  by  the  most 
learned  of  the  order,  Pather  Magrath,  one,  like  Pront,  of 
the  old  school,  who  had  studied  at  Florence,  and  is  still  a 
correspondent  of  many  learned  Societies  abroad.  That  elegy 
I  have  subjoined,  as  a  record  of  Prout's  genuine  worth,  and 
as  a  specimen  of  a  kiad  of  poetry  called  Leonine  verse,  little 
cultivated  at  the  present  day,  but  greatly  in  vogue  at  tho 
revival  of  letters  under  Leo  X. 

IN  MOETEM   TENBEABILIS   ANDEEiB   PEOOT,   CAEMEN. 

Quid  juvat  in  pulcAro  Sanctos  dormire  sepukhro  ! 

Optimus  usque  bonos  nonue  manebit  honos  ? 
Plebs  ten\afossd  Pastoris  oondidit  ossa, 

Splendida  sed  miri  mens  petit  astra  viri. 
Porta  patens  esto  I  coelum  reseretur  honesto, 

Neve  sit  &  Petro  jussus  abire  retro. 
Tota  malam  sortem  sibi  flet  vioinia  mortem, 

Xrt  pro  patre  solent  undique  rura  dolent ; 
Sed  fures  gaudent ;  seeuros  bacteniks  audent 

Disturbare  greges,  nee  mage  tua  seges. 
Audio  singultus,  rixas,  miserosque  tumultus, 

Et  pietas  luget,  sobrietasque/aifiV. 


28  FATHEE   PROTJT'S    EBLIQTJES. 

Namque  flirore  brevi  liquid^ue  ardentis  aquiB  vi 

Antiquus  Nicholas  perdidit  agricolas. 
Jam  patre  defuncto,  meliores  fliunine  cuncto 

Lsetautur  pisces  obtinuiBse  vices. 
Exultans  almo,  Isetare  sub  aequore  salmo  i 

Carpe,  o  carpe  dies,  nam  tibi  parta  quies  ! 
Gaudent  angmllin,  quia  tandem  est  mortuus  ille. 

Presbyter  Andreas,  qui  oapiebat  eas. 
Petro  piscator  plaouit  pius  artis  amator, 

Cui,  propter  mores,  pandit  utrosque/ore*. 
Cur  laohrymS./«Ji!«  justi  comitabitur  unus  ? 

Plendum  est  non  tali,  sed  bene  morte  mali : 
Munera  nunc  Flora  spargo.     Sic  flebile  rare 

Morescat  gramen.    Pace  quiescat.     Amen. 

Sweet  upland!  where,  lite  hermit  old,  in  peace  sojoum'd 

This  priest  devout ; 
Mark  where  beneath  thy  rerdant  sod  lie  deep  inurn'd 

The  bones  of  Prout ! 
Nor  deck  with  monumental  shrine  or  tapering  column 

His  place  of  rest, 
Whose  soul,  above  earth's  homage,  meek  yet  solemn, 

Sits  mid  the  blest. 
Much  was  he  prized,  much  loved ;  his  stern  rebuke 
•  r  •  O'erawed  sheep-stealers  ; 

^  And'rogues  fear'd  more  the.good  man's  single  look 

,     ■  *   •   Than  forty  Peelers. 
'He's  gone ;  and  discord' soon  I  ween  will  visit 
•j     .        *  The  land  with  quarrels; 
;  ,  And  the  foul  _deniori  vex  with  BtUls  illicit 

..;.  The  village, morals. 

No  fktal  chance  could  happen  more  to  cross 
'     '^    '         The  pubHo  wishes ; 
And  all  the  neighbourhood  deplore  his  loss. 

Except  the  fislies ; 
For  he  kept  Lent  most  strict,  and  pickled  herring 

Preferred  to  gammon. 
Grim  Death  has  broke  his  angling-rod ;  his  herring 

Delights  the  salmon. 
No  more  can  he  hook  up  carp,  eel,  or  trout, 

For  fasting  pittance, —       • 
Arts  which  Saint  Peter  loved,  whose  gate  to  Prout 

Q-ave  prompt  admittance. 
Mourn  not,  but  verdantly  let  shamrocks  keep 

His  sainted  dust ; 
The  bad  man's  death  it  well  becomes  to  weep,^ 

Not  so  the  just. 


PACE        IMPLORA, 


JBage.2a. 


29 


No.  II. 

A  PLEA  rOE  PILGBIMAGES  ;    SIE  WALTEB  SOOTt's  TISIT 
TO  THE  BLAENET  STONE. 

"  Beware,  beware 
Of  the  black  friar, 
Who  sitteth  by  Normaii  stone  : 
For  he  mutters  his  prayer 
In  the  midnight  air. 
And  his  mass  of  the  days  that  are  gone." 

Bteon. 

SiiroE  the  publication  of  this  worthy  man's  "  Apology  for 
Lent,"  which,  with  some  account  of  his  lamented  death  and 
weU-attended  funeral,  appeared  in  our  last  Number,  we  have 
written  to  his  executors — (one  of  whom  is  Father  Mat.  Hor- 
rogan,  P.  P.  of  the  neighbouring  village  of  Blarney ;  and  the 
other,  our  elegiac  poet,  Father  Magrath) — in  the  hope  of 
being  able  to  negotiate  for  the  valuable  posthumous  essays 
and  fugitive  pieces  which  we  doubted  not  had  been  left 
behind  in  great  abundance  by  the  deceased.  These  two  dis- 
interested divines — fit  associates  and  bosom-companions  of 
Prout  during  his  lifetime,  and  whom,  from  their  joint  letters, 
we  should  think  eminently  qualified  to  pick  up  the  fallen 
mantle  of  the  departed  prophet — have,  in  the  most  hand- 
some manner,  promised  us  all  the  literary  and  philosopWc 
treatises  bequeathed  to  them  by  the  late  incumbent  of 
Watergrasshill ;  expressing,  in  the  very  complimentary  note 
which  they  have  transmitted  us,  and  which  our  modesty 
prevents  us  from  inserting,  their  thanks  and  that  of  the 
whole  parish,  for  our  sympathy  and  condolence  on  this  melan- 
choly bereavement,  and  intimating  at  the  same  time  their 
regret  at  not  being  able  to  send  us  also,  for  our  private 
perusal,  the  collection  of  the  good  father's  parochial  ser- 
mons ;  the  whole  of  which  (a  most  valuable  MS.)  had  been 
taken  off  for  his  ovni  use  by  the  bishop,  whom  he  had 
made  his  residuary  legatee.    These  "  sermons"  must  be 


30  FATHEE  PBOTTt'S  EELIQTJES. 

doubtleas  good  things  in  their  way — a  theological  iLiya. 
da,\jlia — well  adapted  to  swell  the  episcopal  library ;  but 
as  we  confessedly  are,  and  suspect  our  readers  likewise  to  be, 
a  very  improper  multitude  amongst  whom  to  scatter  such 
pearls,  we  shall  console  ourselves  for  that  sacrifice  by  plung- 
ing head  and  ears  into  the  abundant  sources  of  intellectual 
refreshment  to  which  we  shall  soon  have  access,  and  from 
which  Prank  Creswell,  lucky  dog !  has  drawn  such  a  draught 
of  inspiration. 

"  Sacros  ausus  recludere  foutes !" 

for  assuredly  we  may  defy  any  one  that  has  perused  Prout'a 
vindication  of  fish-diet  (and  who,  we  ask,  has  not  read  it  con 
amore,  conning  it  over  with  secret  glee,  and  forthwith  calling 
out  for  a  red-herring  ?),  not  to  prefer  its  simple  unsophisti- 
cated eloquence  to  the  oration  of  TuUy  pro  Domo  sud,  or 
Barclay's  "  Apology  for  Quakers."  After  all,  it  may  have 
been  but  a  sprat  to  catch  a  whale,  and  the  whole  afiair  may 
turn  out  to  be  a  Popish  contrivance ;  but  if  so,  we  have 
taken  the  bait  ourselves :  we  have  been,  like  Pestus,  "  almost 
persuaded,"  and  Prout  has  wrought  in  us  a  sort  of  culinary 
conversion.  Why  should  we  be  ashamed  to  avow  that  we 
have  been  edified  by  the  good  man's  blunt  and  straight- 
forward logic,  and  drawn  from  his  theories  on  fish  a  higher 
and  more  moral  impression  than  from  the  dreamy  visions  of 
an  "  English  Opium-eater,"  or  any  other  "  Confessions  "  of 
sensualism  and  gastronomy.  If  this  "  black  friar  "  has  got 
smuggled  in  among  our  contributors,  like  King  Saul  among 
the  regular  votaries  of  the  sanctuary,  it  must  be  admitted 
that,  like  the  royal  intruder,  he  has  caught  the  tone  and 
chimed  in  with  the  general  harmony  of  our  political  opinions 
— no  Whigling  among  true  Tories,  no  goose  among  swans. 
Argutos  inter  strepere  anser  olores. 

How  we  long  to  get  possession  of  "  the  Prout  Papers !"  that 
chest  of  learned  lumber  which  haunts  our  nightly  visions ! 
Already,  in  imagination,  it  is  within  our  grasp  ;  our  greedy , 
hand  hastUy  its  lid 

"  Unloots, 
And  all  Arcadia  breathes  from  yonder  box !" 

In  this  prolific  age,  when  the  most  unlettered  dolt  can 
find  a  mare's  nest  in  the  domain  of  philosophy,  why  should 


A  PLEA  roB  PIIGEIMAGES.  31 

not  we  also  cry,  'Eu^rixa/iev !  How  much  of  novelty  in  his 
views  !  how  much  embryo  discovery  must  not  Prout  unfold  ! 
It  were  indeed  a  pity  to  consign  the  writings  of  so  eminent 
a  scholar  to  oblivion :  nor  ought  it  be  said,  in  scriptural 
phrase,  of  him,  what  is,  alas  !  applicable  to  so  many  other 
learned  divines  when  they  are  dead,  that  "  their  works  have 
followed  them."  Such  was  the  case  of  that  laborious  French 
clergyman,  the  Abbe  Trublet,  of  whom  Voltaire  profaaely 
sings : 

"  L'Abb^  Trublet  Icrit,  le  Lethe  sur  sea  rives 
Revolt  aveo  plaisir  sea  feuilles  fugitives !" 

Which  epigram  hath  a  recondite  meaning,  not  obvious  to  the 
reader  on  a  first  perusal ;  and  being  interpreted  into  plain 
English,  for  the  use  of  the  London  University,  it  may  run 
thus: 

"  Lardner  compileB — kind  Lethe  on  her  hanks 
Eeoeivea  the  doctor's  useful  page  with  thanks." 

Such  may  be  the  fate  of  Lardner  and  of  Trublet,  such  the 
ultimate  destiny  that  awaits  their  literary  labours ;  but 
neither  men,  nor  gods,  nor  our  columns  (those  graceful  pil- 
lars that  support  the  Muses'  temple),  shall  suffer  this  old 
priest  to  remain  in  the  unmerited  obscurity  from  which  Frank 
CressweU.  first  essayed  to  draw  him.  To  that  young  barrister 
we  have  written,  with  a  request  that  he  would  f  arnish  us  with 
further  details  concerning  Prout,  and,  if  possible,  a  few 
additional  specimens  of  his  colloquial  wisdom;  reminding 
him  that  modern  taste  has  a  decided  tendency  towards  il- 
lustrious private  gossip,  and  recommending  to  him,  as  a 
sublime  model  of  the  dramatico-biographic  style,  my  Lady 
Blessington's  "  Conversations  of  Lord  Byron."  How  far  he 
has  succeeded  in  following  the  ignis  fatuus  of  her  ladyship's 
lantern,  and  how  many  bogs  he  has  got  immerged  in  because 
of  the  dangerous  hint,  which  we  gave  him  in  an  evil  hour, 
the  judicious  reader  wiU  soon  find  out.  Here  is  the  com- 
munication.  OLIVEE  TOEKE. 

May  1,  1834. 


32  FATHER  PEOTIT'S  BEHQTJBS. 


FurnivaVs  Tnn,  April  14. 
AcKNOWLEDGiwa  the  receipt  of  your  gracious  mandate, 
0  Queen  of  Periodicals  !  and  kissing  the  top  of  your  ivoiy 
sceptre,  may  I  be  allowed  to  express  untlamed  my  utter 
devotion  to  your  orders,  in  the  language  of  ^olus,  quondam 
ruler  of  the  winds  : 

'  Tuns,  O  EnanfA,  quid  optes 

■    Explorare  labor,  mihi  jusaa  capesaere  fas  est !" 

without  concealing,  at  the  same  time,  my  wonderment,  and 
that  of  many  other  sober  individuals,  at  your  patronising  the 
advocacy  of  doctrines  and  usages  belonging  exclusively  to 
another  and  far  less  reputable  Queen  (quean  ?)  whom  I  shall 
have  sufficiently  designated  when  I  mention  that  she  sits  upon 
seven  hills ! — in  statmg  which  singular  phenomenon  con- 
cerning her,  I  need  not  add  that  her  fundamental  maxima 
must  be  totally  different  from  yours.  Many  orthodox  people 
cannot  understand  how  you  could  have  reconciled  it  to  your 
conscience  to  publish,  in  its  crude  state,  that  Apology  for 
Lent,  without  adding  note  or  comment  in  refutation  of  such 
dangerous  doctrines  ;  and  are  still  more  amazed  that  a  Popish 
pariph  priest,  from  the  wild  Irish  hills,  could  have  got  among 
your  contributors — 

"  Claimed  kindred  there,  and  have  that  claim  aEowed." 

It  will,  however,  no  doubt,  give  you  pleasure  to  learn,  that 
you  have  established  a  lasting  popularity  among  that  learned 
set  of  men  the  fishmongers,  who  are  never  scaly  of  their 
support  when  deserved ;  for,  by  a  unanimous  vote  of  the 
"  worshipful  company  "  last  meeting-day,  the  marble  bust  of 
Father  Prout,  crowned  with  sea- weeds  like  a  Triton,  is  to 
be  placed  in  a  conspicuous  part  of  their  new  hall  at  London 
Bridge.  But  as  it  is  the  hardest  thing  imaginable  to  please 
all  parties,  your  triumph  is  rendered  incomplete  by  the 
grumbling  of  another  not  less  respectable  portion  of  the 
community.  By  your  proposal  for  the  non-consumption  of 
butchers'  meat,  you  have  given  mortal  offence  to  the  dealers 
in  horned  cattle,  and  stirred  up  a  nest  of  hornets  in  Smith- 
field.  In  your  perambulations  of  the  metropolis,  go  not  into 
the  bucolic  purlieus  of  that  dangerous  district ;  beware  of 
the  enemy's  camp  ;  tempt  not  the  ire  of  men  armed  with 


A.  PlEA  TOE  PILGEIMAGES.  33 

cold  steel,  else  the  long-dormant  fires  of  that  land  celebrated 
in  every  age  as  a  tierra  del  fuego  may  he  yet  rekindled,  and 
made  "  red  with  uncommon  wrath,"  for  your  especial  roast- 
ing. Lord  Althorp  is  no  warm  friend  of  yours ;  and  by 
your  making  what  he  calls  "  a  most  unprovoked  attack  on 
the  graziers,"  you  have  not  propitiated  the  winner  of  the 
prize  ox. 

"  Fosnum  habet  in  comu, — huno  tii,  Komane,  caveto  !" 

In  vain  would  you  seek  to  cajole  the  worthy  chancellor  of 
his  Majesty's  unfortunate  exchequer,  by  the  desirable  pros- 
pect of  a  net  revenue  from  the  ocean  :  you  will  make  no  im- 
pression. His  mind  is  not  accessible  to  any  reasoning  on 
that  subject ;  and,  like  the  shield  of  Telamon,  it  is  wrapt  in 
the  impenetrable  folds  of  seven  tough  bull-hides. 

"But  eliminating  at  once  these  insignificant  topics,  and 
setting  aside  aU  miaor  things,  let  me  address  myself  to  the- 
grand  subject  of  my  adoption.  Verily,  since  the  days  of 
that  ornament  of  the  priesthood  and  pride  of  Venice,  Father 
Paul,  no  divine  has  shed  such  lustre  on  the  Church  of  Eome 
as  Father  Prout.  His  brain  was  a  storehouse  of  iaexhaustible 
knowledge,  and  his  memory  a  bazaar,  in  which  the  intel- 
lectual riches  of  past  ages  were  classified  and  arranged  in 
marvellous  and  brilliant  assortment.  When,  by  the  libe- 
rality oi  his  executor,  you  shall  have  been,  put  in  possession 
of  his  writings  and  posthumous  papers,  you  wiU  find  I  do 
not  exaggerate ;  for  though  his  mere  conversation  was 
always  instructive,  still,  the  pen  in  his  hand,  more  potent 
than  the  wand  of  JProspero,  embelHshed  every  subject  with 
an  atrial  charm  ;  and  whatever  department  of  literature  it 
touched  on,  it  was  sure  to  illuminate  and  adorn,  from  the 
lightest  and  most  ephemeral  matters  of  the  day,  to  the 
deepest  and  most  abstruse  problems  of  metaphysical  inquiry  ; 
vigorous  and  philosophical,  at  the  same  time  that  it  is  minute 
and  playful ;  having  no  parallel  unless  we  liken  it  to  the 
proboscis  of  an  elephant,  that  can  with  equal  ease  shift  an 
obelisk  and  crack  a  nut. 

Nor  did  he  confine  himself  to  prose.  He  was  a  chosen 
favourite  of  the  nine  sisters,  and  flirted  openly  with  them 
all,  his  vow  of  celibacy  preventing  his  forming  a  permanent 
alliance  with  one  alone.     Hence  pastoral  poetry,  elegy,  son- 


ai  FATHEE   PEOTTT'S   EELIQUES. 

nets,  and  still  grander  eflEusions  in  the  best  style  of  Bob 
Montgomery,  flowed  from  his  muse  in  abundance ;  but,  I 
must  confess,  his  peculiar  forte  lay  in  the  Pindaric.  Be- 
sides, he  indulged  copiously  in  &reek  and  Latin  versifica- 
tion, as  weU  as  in  French,  Italian,  and  High  Dutch;  of 
which  accomplishments  I  happen  to  possess  some  fine  spe- 
cimens from  his  pen ;  and  before  I  terminate  this  paper,  I 
mean  to  introduce  them  to  the  benevolent  notice  of  the 
candid  reader.  By  these  you  will  find,  that  the  Doric  reed 
of  Theocritus  was  to  him  but  an  ordinary  sylvan  pipe — that 
the  lyre  of  Anacreon  was  as  familiar  to  him  as  the  German 
flute — and  that  he  played  as  well  on  the  classic  chords  of 
the  bard  of  Mantua  as  on  the  Cremona  fiddle ;  at  all  events, 
he  will  prove  far  superior  as  a  poet  to  the  covey  of  unfledged 
rhymers  who  nestle  in  annuals  and  magazines.  Sad  abor- 
tions !  on  which  even  you,  O  Queen,  sometimes  take  com- 
passion, infusing  into  them  a  life 

"  Which  did  not  you  prolong, 
The  world  had  wanted  many  an  idle  song." 

To  return  to  his  conversational  powers  :  he  did  not  waste 
them  on  the  generality  of  folks,  for  he  despised  the  vulgar 
herd  of  Corkonians  with  whom  it  was  his  lot  to  mingle ; 
but  when  he  was  sure  of  a  friendly  circle,  he  broke  out  in 
resplendent  style,  often  humorous,  at  times  critical,  occa- 
sionally profound,  and  always  interesting.  Inexhaustible  in 
his  means  of  illustration,  his  fancy  was  an  unwasted  mine, 
into  which  you  had  but  to  sink  a  shaft,  and  you  were  sure 
of  eHciting  the  finest  ore,  which  came  forth  stamped  with 
the  impress  of  genius,  and  fit  to  circulate  amon^  the  most 
cultivated  auditory  :  for  though  the  mint  of  his  brain  now 
and  then  would  issue  a  strange  and  fantastic  coinage,  ster- 
ling sense  was  sure  to  give  it  value,  and  ready  wit  to  pro- 
mote its  currency.  The  rubbish  and  dust  of  the  schools 
with  which  his  notions  were  sometimes  incrusted  did  not 
alter  their  intrinsic  worth ;  people  only  wondered  how  the 
diaphanous  mind  of  Prout  could  be  obscured  by  such  com- 
mon stuflf:  its  brightness  was  still  undiminished  by  the 
admixture ;  and  like  straws  in  amber,  without  deteriorating 
the  substance,  these  matters  only  made  manifest  its  trans- 
parency.    Whenever  he  undertook  to  illustrate  any  subject 


A  PLEA  rOE  PILGEIMAGES.  35 

worthy  of  him,  he  was  always  felicitous.  I  sh^ll  give  you 
an  instance. 

There  stands  on  the  borders  of  his  parish,  near  the  village 
of  Blarney,  an  old  castle  of  the  M'Carthy  family,  rising 
abruptly  from  a  bold  cliff,  at  the  foot  of  which  rolls  a  not 
inconsiderable  stream — the  fond  and  frequent  witness  of 
Prout's  angling  propensities.  The  well-wooded  demesne, 
comprising  an  extensive  lake,  a  romantic  cavern,  and  an 
artificial  wilderness  of  rocks,  belongs  to  the  family  of  Jef- 
fereys,  which  boasts  in  the  Dowager  Countess  GlengaU  a 
most  distinguished  scion ;  her  ladyship's  mother  having 
been  immortalised  under  the  title  of  "  Lady  Jeffers,"  with 
the  other  natural  curiosities  produced  by  this  celebrated 
spot,  in  that  never-suificiently-to-be-encored  song,  the  Groves 
of  Blarney.  But  neither  the  stream,  nor  the  lake,  nor  the 
castle,  nor  the  village  (a  sad  ruin !  which,  but  for  the  recent 
establishment  of  a  spinning-factory  by  some  patriotic  Cork- 
onian,  would  be  swept  away  altogether,  or  possessed  by  the 
owls  as  a  grant  from  Sultan  Mahmoud)  ; — none  of  these 
picturesque  objects  has  earned  such  notoriety  for  "the 
Groves  "  as  a  certain  stone,  of  a  basaltic  kind,  rather  unusual 
in  the  district,  plaped  on  the  pinnacle  of  the  main  tower, 
and  endowed  vrith  the  property  of  communicating  to  the 
happy  tongue  that  comes  in  contact  with  its  polished  surface 
the  gift  of  gentle  insinuating  speech,  with  soft  talk  in  aU  its 
ramifications,  whether  employed  in  vows  and  promises  light 
as  air,  ima,  vrsgoivra,  such  as  lead  captive  the  female  heart ; 
or  elaborate  mystification  of  a  grosser  grain,  such  as  may 
do  for  the  House  of  Commons  ;  aU.  summed  up  and  charac- 
terised by  the  mysterious  term  Blarney.* 

Prout's  theory  on  this  subject  might  have  remained  dor- 

*  To  Crofton  Croter  belongs  the  merit  of  elucidating  this  obscure 
tradition.  It  appears  that  in  1602,  when  the  Spaniards  were  exciting 
our  chieftains  to  harass  the  English  authorities,  Cormac  M'Dermot 
Carthy  teld,  among  other  dependencies,  the  castle  of  Blarney,  and  had 
concluded  an  armistice  with  the  lord-presidpnt,  on  condition  of  surren- 
dering this  fort  to  an  English  garrison.  Day  after  day  did  his  lordship 
look  for  the  fixlBlment  of  the  compact ;  while  the  Irish  Pozzo  di  Borgo, 
as  loath  to  part  with  his  stronghold  as  Russia  to  relinquish  the  Dar- 
danelles, kept  protocohsing  with  soft  promises  and  delusive  delays, 
until  at  last  Carew  became  the  laughing-stock  of  Elizabeth's  ministers, 
and  "Blarney  talk"  proverbial. 

D   2 


36  FATHEB   PEOUT'S    EELIQTJES. 

mant  for  ages,  and  perhaps  been  ultimately  lost  to  the 
world  at  large,  were  it  not  for  an  event  which  occurred  in 
the  summer  of  1825,  while  I  (a  younker  then)  happened  to 
be  on  that  visit  to  my  aunt  at  Watergrasshill  which  even- 
tually secured  me  her  inheritance.  The  occurrence  I  am 
about  to  commemorate  was,  in  truth,  one  of  the  first  mag- 
nitude, and  weU  calculated,  from  its  importance,  to  form  an 
epoch  in  the  Annals  of  the  Parish.  It  was  the  arrival  of 
SiE  "Waltee  Scott  at  Blarney,  towards  the  end  of  the 
month  of  July. 

Tears  have  now  rolled  away,  and  the  "  Ariosto  of  the 
North"  is  dead,  and  our  ancient  constitution  has  since 
fallen  under  the  hoofs  of  the  Whigs ;  quenched  is  many  a 
beacon-light  in  church  and  state — Prout  himself  is  no  more  ; 
and  plentiful  indications  tell  us  we  are  come  upon  evil  days  : 
but  still  may  I  be  allowed  to  feel  a  pleasurable,  though 
somewhat  saddened  emotion,  while  I  revert  to  that  intellec- 
tual meeting,  and  bid  memory  go  back  in  "  dream  sublime" 
to  the  glorious  exhibition  of  Prout's  mental  powers.  It 
was,  in  sooth,  a  great  day  for  old  Ireland ;  a  greater  still 
for  Blarney ;  but,  greatest  of  all,  it  dawned,  Prout,  on  theel 
Then  it  was  that  thy  light  was  taken  from  under  its  sacer- 
dotal bushel,  and  placed  conspicuously  before  a  man  fit  to 
appreciate  the  effulgence  of  so  brilliant  a  luminary — a  light 
which  I,  who  pen  these  words  in  sorrow,  alas  !  shall  never 
gaze  on  more !  a  light 

"  That  ne'er  shall  shine  again 
On,  Blarney's  stream !" 

That  day  it  illumined  the  "cave,"  the  " shady  walks,"  and 
the  "  sweet  rock-close,"  and  sent  its  gladdening  beam  into 
the  gloomiest  vaults  of  the  ancient  fort ;  for  all  the  recon- 
dite recesses  of  the  castle  were  explored  in  succession  by 
the  distinguished  poet  and  the  learned  priest,  and  Prout 
held  a  candle  /to  Scott. 

We  read  with  interest,  in  the  historian  Polybius,  the 
account  of  Hannibal's  interview  with  Scipio  on  the  plains 
of  Zama;  and  often  have  we,  in  our  school-boy  days  of 
unsophisticated  feeling,  sympathised  with  Ovid,  when  he 
told  us  that  he  only  got  a  glimpse  of  Virgil /but  Scott 
basked  for  a  whole  summer's  day  in  the  blaze  of  Prout's 


A.   PLEA   FOE   PILaElMAGES.  37 

Wit,  and  witnessed  the  coruscations  of  his  learning.  The, 
great  Marius  is  said  never  to  have  appeared  to  such  advan- 
tage as  when  seated  on  the  ruins  of  Carthage :  with  equal 
dignity  Prout  sat  on  the  Blarney  stone,  amid  ruins  of  kin- 
dred  glory.  Zeno  taught  in  the  "  porch ;"  Plato  loved  to 
muse  alone  on  the  bold  jutting  promontory  of  Cape  Sunium ; 
Socrates,  bent  on  finding  Truth,  "  in  sylvis  Academi  qiicerere 
verum,"  sought  her  among  the  bowers  of  Academus  ;  Prout 
courted  the  same  coy  nymph,  and  wooed  her  in  the  "  groves 
of  Blarney." 

I  said  that  it  was  in  the  summer  of  1825  that  Sir  "Walter 
Scott,  in  the  progress  of  his  tour  through  Ireland,  reached 
Cork,  and  forthwith  intimated  his  wish  to  proceed  at  once 
on  a  visit  to  Blarney  Castle.  *  Tor  him  the  noble  river,  the 
magnificent  estuary,  and  unrivalled  harbour  of  a  city  that 
proudly  bears  on  her  civic  escutcheon  the  well-applied 
motto,  "  Statio  bene  flda  carinis"  had  but  little  attraction 
when  placed  in  competition  with  a  spot  sacred  to  the  Muses, 
and  wedded  to  immortal  verse.  Such  was  the  interest  which 
its  connexion  with  the  popular  literature  and  traditionary 
stories  of  the  country  had  excited  in  that  master-mind — 
such  the  predominance  of  its  local  reminiscences — such  the 
transcendent  influence  of  song!  Tor  this  did  the  then 
"  Grreat  Unknown  "  wend  his  way  through  the  purlieus  of 
"  Grolden  Spur,"  traversing  the  great  manufacturing  faux- 
bourg  of  "  Black  Pool,"  and  emerging  by  the  "  Eed  Porge ;" 
so  intent  on  the  classic  object  of  his  pursuit,  as  to  disregard 
the  unpromising  aspect  of  the  vestibule  by  which  alone  it  is 
approachable.  Many  are  the  splendid  mansions  and  hospi- 
table halls  that  stud  the  suburbs  of  the  "  beautiful  city," 
eacK  boasting  its  grassy  lawn  and  placid  lake,  each  decked 
vrith  park  and  woodland,  and  each  well  furnished  with  that 
paramount  appendage,  a  hatterie  de  cuisine ;  but  all  these 
mstles  were  passed  unheeded  by,  carent  quia  vote  sacro.  Gor- 
geous residences,  picturesque  seats,  magnificent  villas,  they 
be,  no  doubt;  but  unknown  to  literature,  in  vain  do  they 
plume  themselves  on  their  architectural  beauty ;  in  vain  do 
they  spread  wide  their  well-proportioned  lomy*— they  cannot 
soar  aloft  to  the  regions  of  celebrity. 

On  the  eve  of  that  memorable  day  I  was  sitting  on_  a 
Btool  in  the  priest's  parlour,  poking  the  turf  fire,  while 


38  TATHEE  PEOUT'S  EELIQUE3. 

Prout,  wlio  had  been  angling  all  day,  sat'  nodding  over  his 
"  breviary"  and,  according  to  my  calculation,  ought  to  be 
at  the  last  psalm  of  vespers,  when  a  loud  official  knock,  not 
usual  on  that  bleak  hill,  bespoke  the  presence  of  no  ordi- 
nary personage.  Accordingly,  the  "  wicket,  opening  with  a 
latch,"  ushered  in  a  messenger  clad  in  the  livery  of  the 
ancient  and  loyal  corporation  of  Cork,  who  announced  him- 
self as  the  bearer  of  a  despatch  from  the  mansion-house 
to  his  reverence  ;  and,  handing  it  with  that  deferential  awe 
which  even  his  masters  felt  for  the  incumbent  of  "Water- 
grasshUl,  immediately  withdrew.     The  letter  ran  thus : — 

Council  Chatnber,  July  24,  1825. 
Veet  Eeteeend  Dootoe  Peotjt, 

Cork  harbours  within  its  walls  the  illustrious  author 
of  Waverley.  On  receiving  the  freedom  of  our  ancient  city, 
which  we  presented  to  him  (as  usual  towards  distinguished 
strangers)  in  a  box  carved  out  of  a  chip  of  the  Blarney 
stone,  he  expressed  his  determination  to  visit  the  old  block 
itself.  As  he  will,  therefore,  be  in  your  neighbourhood  to- 
morrow, and  as  no  one  is  better  able  to  do  the  honours  than 
you  (our  burgesses  being  sadly  deficient  in  learning,  as  you 
and  I  well  know),  your  attendance  on  the  celebrated  poet  is 
requested  by  your  old  friend  and  foster-brother, 

G-EOEGE  Knapp,*  Mayor. 

*  The  repubKo  of  letters  has  great  reason  to  complain  of  Dr.  Maginn, 
for  his  non-fulfilment  of  a  positive  pledge  to  publish  "  a  great  historical 
work"  on  the  mayors  of  Cork.  Owing  to  this  desideratum  in  the 
annals  of  the  empire,  I  am  compelled  to  bring  into  notice  thus  abruptly 
tlie  most  respectable  civic  worthy  that  has  worn  the  cocked  hat  and 
chain  since  the  days  of  John  Walters,  who  boldly  proclaimed  Perkin 
Warbeek,  in  the  reign  of  Henry  VII.,  in  the  market-place  of  that  beau- 
tiftil  city.  Knapp's  virtues  and  talents  did  not,  like  those  of  Donna 
Ines,  deserve  to  be  called 

"  Classic  all, 
Ifor  lay  they  chiefly  in  the  mathematical," 

for  hie  favourite  pursuit  during  the  cauicule  of  1826,  was  the  extermi- 
nation of  mad  dogs  j  and  so  vigorously  did  he  urge  the  carnage  during 
the  summer  of  his  mayoralty,  that  some  thought  he  wished  to  eclipse 
the  exploit  of  St.  Patrick  in  destroying  t)ie  breed  altogether,  as  the 
taint  did  that  of  toads.    A  Cork  poet,  the  laureate  of  the  mansion- 


A  PLEA  rOE   PIIGEIMAGES.  39 

Never  shall  I  forget  the  beam  of  triumph  that  lit  up 
the  old  man's  features  on  the  perusal  of  Knapp's  pithy- 
summons  ;  and  right  warmly  did  he  respond  to  my  congra- 
tulations on  the  prospect  of  thus  coming  in  contact  with  bo 
distinguished  an  author.  "  You  are  right,  child!"  said  he  ; 
and  as  I  perceived  by  his  manner  that  he  was  about  to  enter 
on  one  of  those  rambling  trains  of  thought — half-homUy, 
half-soliloquy — in  which  he  was  wont  to  indulge,  I  settled 
myself  by  the  fire-place,  and  prepared  to  go  through  my 
accustomed  part  of  an  attentive  listener. 

"  A  great  man,  Prank !  A  truly  great  man !  'No  token 
of  ancient  days  escapes  his  eagle  glance,  no  venerable  memo- 
rial of  former  times  his  observant  scrutiny ;  and  still,  even 
he,  versed  as  he  is  in  the  monumentary  remains  of  bygone 
ages,  may  yet  learn  something  more,  and  have  no  cause  to 
regret  his  visit  to  Blarney.  Yes  !  since  out '  groves'  are  to 
be  honoured  by  the  presence  of  the  learned  baronet, 

'  Sylvse  sint  oonsvile  dignse !' 

let  us  make  them  deserving  of  his  attention.  He  shall  fix 
his  antiquarian  eye  and  rivet  his  wondering  gaze  on  the 
rude  basaltic  mass  that  crowns  the  battlements  of  the  main 
tower ;  for  though  he  may  have  seen  the  "  chair  at  Scone," 
where  the  Caledonian  kings  were  crowned ;  though  he  may 
have  examined  that  Scotch  pebble  in  Westminster  Abbey, 
which  the  Cockneys,  in  the  exercise  of  a  delightful  credu- 
lity, believe  to  be  "  Jacob's  piUow ;"  though  he  may  have 
visited  the  mishapen  pillars  on  Salisbury  plain,  and  the 
Eock  of  Cashel,  and  the  "Hag's  Bed,"  and  St.  Kevin's 
petrified  matelas  at  Glendalough,  and  many  a  cromlech  of 
Druidical  celebrity, — there  is  a  stone  yet  unexplored,  which 
he  shall  contemplate  to-morrow,  and  place  on  record  among 
his  most  profitable  days  that  on  which  he  shall  have  paid  it 
homage : 

'  Himc,  Macrine,  diem  numera  meKore  lapillo !' 

"  I  am  old,  Frank.    In  my  wild  youth  I  have  seen  many 

house,  has  celebrated  Knapp's  prowess  in  a  didactic  composition,  en- 
titled Dog-Killing,  a  Poem ;  in  which  the  mayor  is  litened  to  Apollo  in 
the  Glreciaji  camp  before  Troy,  in  the  opening  of  the  Iliad: — 
Avrap  jSowj  vpuiTov  ip'  wiciTO  xai  Kvvag  Apyouj. 


40  EATHEE  EEOTJT's   EEIIQTIES. 

of  the  celebrated  writers  tliat  adorned  ^he  decline  of  the 
last  century,  and  shed  a  lustre  over  ^France,  too  soon  eclipsed 
in  blood  at  its  sanguinary  close.  I  have  conversed  with 
Buffon  and  with  Pontenelle,  and  held  intercourse  with 
Nature's  simplest  child,  Bernardin  de  St.  Pierre,  author  of 
'  Paul  and  Virginia ;'  Gresset  and  Marmontel  were  my 
college-friends  ;  and  to  me,  though  a  frequenter  of  the  halls 
of  Sorbonne,  the  octogenaire  of  Ferney  was  not  unknown : 
nor  was  I  unacquainted  with  ythe  recluse  of  Ermenonville. 
But  what  axe  the  souvenirs  of  a  single  period,  however  bril- 
liant and  interesting,  to  the  recollections  of  full  seven  cen- 
turies of  historic  glory,  all  condensed  and  concentrated  in 
Scott  ?  What  a  host  of  personages  does  his  name  conjure 
up !  what  mighty  shades  mingle  in  the  throng  of  attendant 
heroes  that  wait  his  bidding,  and  form  his  appropriate 
retinue  !  Cromwell,  Claverhouse,  and  Montrose  ;  Saladin, 
Front  de  Boeuf,  and  Ccbut  de  Lion ;  Eob  Boy,  Eobin  Hood, 
and  Marmion ;  those  who  fell  at  Culloden  and  Flodden- 
Pield,  and  those  who  won  the  day  at  Bannockburn, — all 
start  up  at  the  presence  of  the  Enchanter.  I  speak  not  of 
his  female  forms  of  surpassing  loveliness — his  Flora  M'lvor, 
his  Eebecea,  his  Amy  Kobsart :  these  you,  Frank,  can  best 
admire.  But  I  know  not  how  I  shall  divest  myself  of  a 
secret  awe  when  the  wizard,  with  all  his  spells,  shall  rise 
before  me.  The  presence  of  my  old  foster-brother,  George 
Knapp,  will  doubtless  tend  to  dissipate  the  illusion  ;  but  if 
so  it  will  be  by  personifying  the  Baillie  Nicol  Jarvie  of 
Glasgow,  his  worthy  prototype.  Nor  are  Scott's  merits 
those  simply  of  a  pleasing  novelist  or  a  spirit-stirring  poet ; 
his  '  Life  of  Dryden,'  his  valuable  commentaries  on  Swift, 
his  researches  in  the  dark  domain  of  demonology,  his  bio- 
graphy of  Napoleon,  and  the  sterling  views  of  European 
policy  developed  in  'Paul's  Letters  to  his  Kinsfolk,'  all 
contribute  to  enhance  his  literary  pre-eminence.  Eightly 
has  Sihus  ItaUcus  depicted  the  Carthaginian  hero,  sur- 
rounded  even  in  solitude  by  a  thousand  recollections  of  well- 
earned  renown — 

'  STec  credis  inermem 
Quem  Tnihi  tot  cinxere  duces  :  si  admoTeria  ora, 
Cannas  et  Trebiam  ante  oouloa,  Komanaqtie  busta, 
Et  Pauli  stare  ingentem  miraberis  mnbram  !" 


A  I'LEA  rOE  PILGBIMAGES.  41 

Tet,  greatly  and  deservedly  as  he  is  prized  by  his  contempo- 
raries, future  ages  wiU  value  him  even  more  ;  and  his  laurel, 
ever  extending  its  branches,  and  growing  in  secret  like  the 
'  fame  of  Marcellus,'  will  overshadow  the  earth.  Posterity 
will  canonise  his  every  relic  ;  and  his  footsteps,  even  in  this 
remote  district,  wiU  be  one  day  traced  and  sought  for  by  the 
admirers  of  genius.  For,  notwithstanding  the  breadth  and 
brilliancy  of  effect  with  which  he  waved  the  torch  of  mind 
while  living,  far  purer  and  more  serene  will  be  the  lamp 
that  shall  glimmer  in  his  tomb  and  keep  vigil  over  his  hal- 
lowed ashes  :  to  that  fount  of  inspiration  other  and  minor 
spirits,  eager  to  career  through  the  same  orbit  of  glory,  wiU 
recur,  and 

'  In  their  golden  uma  draw  light.' 

Nor  do  I  merely  look  on  him  as  a  writer  who,  by  the  blan- 
dishment of  his  narrative  and  the  witchery  of  his  style,  has 
calmed  more  sorrow,  and  caused  more  happy  hours  to  flow, 
than  any  save  a  higher  and  a  holier  page, — a  writer  who, 
like  the  autumnal  meteor  of  his  own  North,  has  illumined 
the  dull  horizon  of  these  latter  days  with  a  fancy  ever  varied 
and  radiant  with  ioyfulness, — one  who,  for  useful  purposes, 
has  interwoven  the  plain  warp  of  history  with  the  many- 
coloured  web  of  his  own  romantic  loom  ; — but  further  do  I 
hail  in  him  the  genius  who  has  rendered  good  and  true 
service  to  the  cause  of  mankind,  by  driving  forth  from  the 
temple  of  Eeligion,  with  sarcasm's  knotted  lash,  that  canting 
puritanic  tribe  who  would  obliterate  from  the  book  of  life 
every  earthly  enjoyment,  and  change  all  ite  paths  of  peace 
into  walks  of  bitterness.  I  honour  him  for  his  efforts  to 
demolish  the  pestilent  influence  of  a  sour  and  sulky  system 
that  would  interpose  itself  between  the  gospel  sun  and  the 
world — that  retains  no  heat,  imbibes  no  light,  and  transmits 
none  ;  but  flings  its  broad,  cold,  and  disastrous  shadow  over 
the  land  that  is  cursed  with  its  visitation. 

"  The  excrescences  and  superfcetations  of  my  own  church 
most  freely  do  I  yield  up  to  his  censure ;  for  while  in  his 
Abbot  Boniface,  his  Priar  Tuck,  and  his  intriguing  Eash- 
leigh,  he  has  justly  stigmatised  monastic  laziness,  and  de- 
nounced ultramontane  duplicity,  he  has  not  forgotten  to 
exhibit  the  bright  reverse  of  the  Eoman  medal,  but  has  done 
fuE.  measure  of  justice  to  the  nobler  inspirations  of  our 


42  FATHEE  PEOUT'S   EELIQITES. 

creed,  bodied  fortt  in  Mary  Stuart,  Hugo  de  Lacy,  Catlie- 
rine  Seaton,  Die  Vernon,  and  Eose  de  Bdranger.  Nay,  even 
in  his  fictions  of  cloistered  life,  among  the  drones  of  that 
ignoble  crowd,  he  has  drawn  minds  of  another  sphere,  and 
spirits  whose  ingenaous  nature  and  piety  unfeigned  were 
not  worthy  of  this  world's  deceitful  intercourse,  but  fitted 
them  to  commune  in  solitude  with  Heaven. 

"  Such  are  the  impressions,  and  such  the  mood  of  mind  in 
which  I  shall  accost  the  illustrious  visitor ;  and  you,  Frank, 
shall  accompany  me  on  this  occasion." 

Accordingly,  the  next  morning  found  Prout,  punctual  to 
Knapp's  summons,  at  his  appointed  post  on  the  top  of  the 
castle,  keeping  a  keen  look-out  for  the  arrival  of  Sir  Walter. 
He  came,  at  length,  up  the  "  laurel  avenue,"  so  called  from 
the  gigantic  laurels  that  overhang  the  path, 

"  Which  bowed. 
As  if  each  brought  a  new  classic  wreath  to  his  head ;" 

and  alighting  at  the  castle-gate,  supported  by  Knapp,  he 
toUed  up  the  winding  stairs  as  well  as  his  lameness  -would 
permit,  and  stood  at  last,  with  aU.  his  fame  around  him,  in 
the  presence  of  Prout.  The  form  of  mutual  introduction 
was  managed  by  KJaapp  with  his  usual  tact  an4  urbanity ; 
and  the  first  interchange  of  thoughts  soon  convinced  Scott 
that  he  had  lit  on  no  "  clod  of  the  valley  "  in  the  priest. 
The  confabulation  which  ensued  may  remind  you  of  the 
"  TusculansB  Qusestiones "  of  Tully,  or  the  dialogues  "  De 
Oratore,"  or  of  Home  Tooke's  "  Diversions  of  Purley,"  or  of 
all  three  together.     La  void. 

SCOTT. 

I  congratulate  myself,  reverend  father,  on  the  prospect  of 
having  so  experienced  a  guide  in  exploring  the  wonders  of 
this  celebrated  spot.  Indeed,  I  am  so  far  a  member  of  your 
communion,  that  I  take  delight  in  pilgrimages ;  and  you  be- 
hold in  me  a  pilgrim  to  the  Blarney  stone. 

PEOTJT. 

I  accept  the  guidance  of  so  sincere  a  devotee  ;  nor  has  a 
more  accomplished  palmer  ever  worn  scrip,  or  stafi",  or 
BcoUop-shell,  in  my  recollection  ;  nay,  more— right  honoured 
Bhall  the  pastor  of  the  neighbouring  upland  feel  in  afibrding 


A   PLEA   rOE   PILflEIMAGES.  43 

shelter  and  hospitality,  such  as  every  pilgrim  has  claim  to 
if  the  penitent  will  deign  visit  my  humble  dwelling. 

SCOTT. 

My  vow  forbids !  I  must  not  think  of  bodily  refresh- 
ment, or  any  such  profane  solicitudes,  untU  I  go  through 
the  solemn  rounds  of  my  devotional  career — until  I  kiss 
"the  stone,"  and  explore  the  "cave  where  no  daylight 
enters,"  the  "  fracture  in  the  battlement,"  the  "  lake  well 
stored  with  fishes,"  and,  finally,  "  the  sweet  rock-close." 

PEOTTT. 

All  these  shall  you  duly  contemplate  when  you  shall  have 
rested  from  the  fatigue  of  climbing  to  this  lofty  eminence, 
whence,  seated  on  these  battlements,  you  cap  command  a 
landscape  fit  to  repay  the  toil  of  the  most  laborious  pere- 
grination ;  in  truth,  if  the  ancient  observance  were  not 
sufficiently  vindicated  by  your  example  to-day,  I  should 
have  thought  it  my  duty  to  take  up  the  gauntlet  for  that 
much-abused  set  of  men,  the  pilgrims  of  olden  time. 

SCOTT. 

In  all  cases  of  initiation  to  any  solemn  rites,  such  as  I  am 
about  to  enter  on,  it  is  customary  to  give  an  introductory 
lecture  to  the  neophyte ;  and  as  you  seem  disposed  to 
enlighten  us  with  a  preamble,  you  have  got,  reverend  father, 
in  me  a  most  docile  auditor. 

"  PEOUT. 

There  is  a  work,  Sir  Walter,  with  which  I  presume  you 
are  not  unacquainted,  which  forcibly  and  bedutifuUy  por- 
trays the  honest  fervour  of  our  forefathers  in  their  untu- 
tored views  of  Christianity :  but  if  the  "  Tales  of  the 
Crusaders  "  count  among  their  dramatis  persontB  the  mitred 
prelate,  the  cowled  hermit,  the  croziered  abbot,  and  the 
gallant  templar,  strange  mixture  of  daring  and  devotion, — 
far  do  I  prefer  the  sketch  of  that  peculiar  creation  of  Catho- 
Jicity  and  romance,  the  penitent  under  solemn  vow,  who 
comes  down  from  Thabor  or  from  Lebanon  to  embark  for 
Europe :  and  who  in  rude  garb  and  with  unshodden  feet 
will  return  to  his  native  plains  of  Languedoc  or  Lombardy, 


44  FATHEE  PEOrT'S   EELIQTJES. 

displaying  with  pride  the  emblem  of  Palestine,  and  realising 
what  Virgil  only  dreamt  of — 

"  Primus  Idiimseas  referam  tibi,  Mantua,  palmas  !" 

But  I  am  wrong  in  saying  that  pilgrimages  belong  exclu- 
sively to  our  most  ancient  form  of  Christianity,  or  that  the 
patent  for  this  practice  appertains  to  religion  at  all.  It  is 
the  simplest  dictate  of  our  nature,  though  piety  has  conse- 
crated the  practice,  and  marked  it  for  her  own.  Patriotism, 
poetry,  philanthropy,  all  the  arts,  and  all  the  finer  feelings, 
have  their  pilgrimages,  their  hallowed  spots  of  intense  in- 
terest, their  haunts  of  fancy  and  of  inspiration.  It  is 
the  first  impulse  of  every  genuine  afiection,  the  tendency 
of  the  heart  in  its  fervent  youthhood  ;  and  nothing  but  the 
cold  scepticism  of  an  age  which  Edmund  Burke  so  truly 
designated  as  that  of  calculators  and  economists,  could  scoff 
at  the  enthusiasm  that  feeds  on  ruins  such  as  these,  that 
visits  with  emotion  the  battle-field  and  the  ivied  abbey,  or 
Shakespeare's  grave,  or  Galileo's  cell,  or  Eunnymede,  or 
Marathon. 

PUial  affection  has  had  its  pilgrim  in  Telemachus ;  gene- 
rous and  devoted  loyalty  in  Blondel,  the  best  of  trouba- 
dours ;  Bruce,  Belzoni,  and  Humboldt,  were  pilgrims  of 
science ;  and  John  Howard  was  the  sublime  pilgrim  of 
philanthropy. 

Actuated  by  a  sacred  feeHng,  the  son  of  Ulysses  visited 
every  isle  and  inhospitable  shore  of  the  boisterous  ^gean, 
until  a  father  clasped  him  in  his  arms ; — propelled  by  an 
equally  absorbing  attachment,  the  faithful  minstrel  of  Coeur 
de  Lion  sang  before  every  feudal  castle  in  Germany,  until 
at  last  a  dungeon-keep  gave  back  the  responsive  echo  of 
"  O  Richard  !  0  mon  roy  !"  If  Belzoni  died  toilworn  and 
dissatisfied — if  Baron  Humboldt  is  still  plodding  his  course 
through  the  South  American  peninsula,  or  wafted  on  the 
bosom  of  the  Pacific — it  is  because  the  domain  of  science  is 
infinite,  and  her  votaries  must  never  rest : 

"  For  there  are  wanderers  o'er  eternity, 
Whose  bark  goes  on  and  on,  and  anohor'd  ne'er  shall  be !" 

But  when  Howard  explored  the  secrets  of  every  prison-i 
house  in  Europe,  performing  that  which  Burke  classically 
described  as  "  a  circumnavigation  of  charity ;"  nay,  when, 


A  PLEA  FOE   PILGEIMAGES.  45 

on  a  still  holier  errand,  three  eastern  sages  came  from  the 
boundaries  of  the  earth  to  do  homage  to  a  cradle  ;  think  ye 
not  that  in  theirs,  as  in  every  pilgrim's  progress,  a  light 
unseen  to  others  shone  on  the  path  before  them  ?  derived 
they  not  untiring  vigour  from  the  exalted  nature  of  their 
pursuit,  felt  they  not  "  a  pinion  lifting  every  limb  ?"  Such 
are  the  feelings  which  Tasso  beautifully  describes  when  he 
brings  his  heroes  within  view  of  Sion : 

"  Al  grand  piacer  che  quella  prima  vista 
Doloemente  epird,  uell'  altrui  petto, 
Alta  contrizion  successe,  mista 
Di  timoroso  e  riverente  aifetto. 
Osano  appena  d'  innalzar  la  vista 
Ver  la  oittJl,  di  Cristo  albergo  eletto. 
Dove  mori,  dove  sepolto  £ue. 
Dove  poi  rivesfi  le  membra  sue !" 

Canto  III. 

I  need  not  tell  you.  Sir  Walter,  that  the  father  of  history, 
previous  to  taking  up  the  pen  of  Clio,  explored  every  monu- 
ment of  Upper  Egypt ;  or  that  Herodotus  had  been  pre- 
ceded by  Homer,  and  followed  by  Pythagoras,  in  this  philo- 
sophic pilgrimage ;  that  Athens  and  Corinth  were  the 
favourite  resorts  of  the  Eoman  literati,  Sylla,  Lueullus,  and 
Mecsenas,  when  no  longer  the  seats  of  empire;  and  that 
Eome  itself  is,  in  its  turn,  become  as  weU  the  haunt  of  the 
antiquarian  as  the  poet,  and  the  painter,  and  the  Christian 
pilgrim  ;  for  dull  indeed  would  that  man  be,  duller  than  the 
stagnant  weed  that  vegetates  on  Lethe's  shore,  who  again 
would  put  the  exploded  interrogatory,  once  fallen,  not  in- 
aptly, from  the  mouth  of  a  clown — 

"  Quse  tanta  fuit  Eomam  tibi  causa  videndi  ?" 

I  mean  not  to  deny  that  there  exist  vulgar  minds  and  souls 
without  refinement,  whose  perceptions  are  of  that  stunted 
nature  that  they  can  see  nothing  in  the  "  pass  of  Thermo- 
pylae" but -a  gap  for  cattle;  in  the  "Forum"  but  a  cow- 
yard  ;  and  for  whom  St.  Helena  itself  is  but  a  barren  rock  : 
but,  thank  Heaven  !  we  are  not  all  yet  come  to  that  unen- 
viable stage  of  utilitarian  philosophy  ;  and  there  is  still  some 
hope  left  for  the  Muses'  haunts,  when  he  of  Abbotsford 
blushes  not  to  visit  the  castle,  the  stone,  and  the  groves  of 
Blarney. 


46  TATHEE  PBOn'S   EELIQUES. 

Nor  is  lie  unsupported  in  the  indulgence  of  this  classic 
fancy ;  for  there'texists  another  pilgrim,  despite  of  modem 
cavils,  who  keeps  up  the  credit  of  the  profession — a  way- 
ward childe,  whose  restless  spirit  has  long  since  spurned 
the  solemn  dulness  of  conventional  life,  preferring  to  hold 
intercourse  with  the  mountain-top  and  the  ocean-brink : 
Ida  and  Salamis  "  are  to  him  companionship  ;"  and  every 
broken  shaft,  prostrate  capital,  and  marble  fragment  of  that 
sunny  land,  tells  its  tale  of  other  days  to  a  fitting  listener  ia 
Harold :  for  him  Etruria  is  a  teeming  soil,  and  the  spirit  of 
song  haunts  Eavenna  and  Parthenope  :  for  him 

"  There  is  a  tomb  in  ArquV' 
which  to  the  stolid  peasant  that  wends  his  away  along  the 
Euganeian  hills  is  mute ,  indeed  as  the  grave,  nor  breathes 
the  name  of  its  indweller ;  but  a  voice  breaks  forth  from 
the  mausoleum  at  the  passage  of  Byron,  the  ashes  of  Pe- 
trarch grow  warm  in  their  marble  bed,  and  the  last  wish  of 
the  poet  La  his  "  Legacy"  is  accomplished: 

"  Then  if  some  bard,  who  roams  forsaken. 
Shall  touch  on  thy  cof  ds  in  passing  along, 
O  may  one  thought  of  its  master  waken 
The  sweetest  smile  for  the  Childe  of  Song .'" 

SCOTT. 

Proud  and  flattered  as  I  must  feel,  O  most  learned 
divine !  to  be  classified  with  Herodotus,  Pythagoras,  Bel- 
zoni,  Bruce,  and  Bjrron,  I  fear  much  that  I  am  but  a  sorry 
sort  of  pilgrim,  after  all.  Indeed,  an  eminent  writer  of 
your  church  has  laid  it  down  as  a  maxim,  which  I  suspect 
applies  to  my  case,  "  Qui  multiim  peregrinantur  rarb  sancti- 
ficantur."    Does  not  Thomas  4  Kempis  say  so  ? 

PEOXJT. 

The  doctrine  may  be  sound ;  but  the  book  from  which 
you  quote  is  one  of  those  splendid  productions  of  uncertain 
authorship  which  we  must  ascribe  to  some  "  great  unknown" 
of  the  dark  ages. 

SCOTT. 

Be  that  as  it  may,  I  can  give  you  a  parallel  sentiment 
from  one  of  your  Erench  poets ;  for  I  understand  you  are 


A  PLEA  rOE  PILGEIMAGEP  47 

partial  to  the  literature  of  that  merry  nation.  The  pUgrim's 
wanderings  are  compared  by  this  gallic  satirist  to  the 
meandering  course  of  a  river  in  Germany,  which,  after 
watering  the  plains  of  Protestant  Wirtemberg  and  Catholic 
Austria,  enters,  by  way  of  finale,  on  the  domaias  of  the 
Grand  Turk : 

"  J'ai  Tu  le  Danube  inconstant, 
Qui,  tantot  Catholique  et  tant6t  Protestant, 
Sert  Rome  et  Luther  de  son  onde ; 

Mais,  comptant  aprfes  pour  rieu 

Komain  et  Luth&ien, 
Finit  sa  course  vagabonde 

Par  n'etre  pas  mSme  Chretien. 
Earement  en  eourant  le  monde 

On  devient  homme  de  bien !" 

By  the  way,  have  you  seen  Stothard's  capital  print,  "  The 
Pilgrimage  to  Canterbury  ?" 

PBOTJT.  < 

Such  orgies  on  pious  pretences  I  cannot  but  deplore,  with 
Chaucer,  Erasmus',  Dryden,  and  Pope,  who  were  all  of  my 
creed,  and  pointedly  condemned  them.  The  Papal  hierarchy 
IQ  this  country  have  repeatedly  discountenanced  such  unholy 
doings.  Witness  their  efforts  to  demolish  the  cavern  of 
Loughderg,  called  St.  Patrick's  Purgatory,  that  has  no 
better  claim  to  antiquity  than  our  Blarney  cave,  in  which 
"  bats  and  badgers  are  for  ever  bred."  And  still,  concerning 
this  truly  Irish  curiosity,  there  is  a  document  of  a  droU 
description  in  Eymer's  "  Foedera,"  in  the  32d  year  of  Ed- 
ward III.,  A.D.  1358.  It  is  no  less  than  a  certificate,  duly 
made  out  by  that  good-natured  monarch,  shewing  to  aU  men 
as  how  a  foreign  nobleman  did  really  visit  the  Cave  of  St. 
Patrick,*  and  passed  a  night  in  its  mysterious  recesses. 

*  This  is,  we  believe,  what  Prout  alludes  to ;  and  we  confess  it  is  a 
precious  relic  of  olden  simpUcity,  and  ought  to  see  the  Ught : — 

"  A.D.  1358,  an.  32  Edw.  III. 
"Litterse  teBtimonialea  super  mor^  in  S"'  Patricii  Purgatorio.    Eex 

universis  et  singulis  ad  quos  prsesentes  Htterte  pervenerint,  salutem ! 

"Nobilis  vir  Malatesta  TJngarus  de  Arimeftio,  miles,  ad  prsesentiam 
nostram  veniens,  mature  nobis  exposuit  quod  ipse  nuper  a  terras  suse 
discedens  laribus,  Purgatorium  Sancti  Patricii,  infra  terram  nostram 
Hybemiae  constitutum,  in  miiltis  corporis  sui  laboribus  peregre  visittoat, 


48  FA.THEE  PEOUT'S   EELIQTTES. 

SCOTT. 

I  was  aware  of  the  existence  of  that  document,  as  also  of 
the  remark  made  by  one  Erasmus  of  Rotterdam  concerning 
the  said  cave:  "Non  desunt  hodiii  qui  descendunt,  sed 
pritis  triduano  enecti  jejunio  ne  sano  capite  ingrediantur."  * 
Erasmus,  reverend  friend,  was  an  honour  to  your  cloth ; 
but  as  to  Edward  III.,  I  am  not  surprised  he  should  have 
encouraged  such  excursions,  as  he  belonged  to  a  family 
whose  patronymic  is  traceable  to  a  pilgrim's  vow.  My 
reverend  friend  is  surely  in  possession  of  the  historic  fact, 

ao  per  integrse  diei  ac  noctis  eontinuatum  spatium,  ut  est  moris,  cJausus 
manserat  in  eodem,  nobis  cum  instantiS,  supplicando,  ut  in  prsemissorum 
veraciuB  fulcimentum  regales  nostras  litteras  inde  sibi  concedere  dJgna- 
remur. 

"Nos  autem  ipsius  peregrinationis  considerantes  perictdosa  discri- 
mina,  licet  tanti  nobilis  in  h4o  parte  nobis  assertio  eit  accepta,  quia 
tamen  dileoti  ao  fidelis  nostri  Almarici  de  S'°  Amaudo,  militis,  justioiarii 
nostri  Hybernise,  simul  ao  Prioris  et  Conventds  loci  dicti  Purgatorii,  et 
etiam  aliorum  auctoritatis  multse  virorum  litteris,  aKisque  Claris  eviden- 
tiis  informamur  quod  diotus  nobilis  banc  peregrmationem  ril^  perfecerat 
et  etiam  animosh. 

"  Dignum  duximus  super  bis  testimonium  nostrum  faTorabUiter  ad- 
hibere,  ut  sublato  cujusvis  dubitationis  involucro,  prEemissorum  Veritas 
singulis  lucidius  patefiat,  bas  litteras  nostras  sigillo  regio  consignatas 
illi  duximus  concedendas. 

"  Dat'  in  palatio  nostro  West',  xxiv  die  Octobris,  1358." 

Rymer's  Foedera,  by  Caley.     London,  1825. 
Tol.  iii.  pt.  i.  p.  408. 

*  Erasmus  in  Adagia,  artic.  de  antro  Trophonii.  See  also  Camden's 
account  of  tbis  cave  in  bis  Hybernice  Descriptio,  edition  of  1 594,  p.  671. 
It  is  a  singular  fact,  though  little  known,  that  from  the  visions  said  to 
occur  in  this  cavern,  and  bruited  abroad  by  the  fraternity  of  monks, 
whose  connexion  with  Italy  was  constant  and  intimate,  Dante  took  the 
first  hint  of  his  Divina  Commedia,  II  Purgatorio.  Such  was  the  cele- 
brity this  cave  had  obtained  in  Spain,  that  the  great  dramatist  Calderon 
made  it  the  subject  of  one  of  his  best  pieces ;  and  it  was  so  well  known 
at  the  court  of  Ferrara,  that  Ariosto  introduced  it  into  his  Orlando 
Furinso,  canto  x.  stanza  92. 

"  Q.uindi  Euggier,  poioh6  di  banda  in  banda 
Tide  gl'  luglesi,  and6  verso  1'  Irlanda 
E  vide  Ibernia  fabulosa,  dove 
II  santo  vecchiarel  fece  la  cava 
In  che  tanta  merce  par  che  si  trove, 
C!he  1'  uom  vi  purga  ogni  sua  colpa  prava !" 


A  PLEA  TOE  PILSEIMAGES.  49 

that  the  name  of  Plantagenet  is  derived  from  plante  de 
genest,  a  sprig  of  heath,  which  the  first  Duke  of  Anjou  wore 
in  his  helmet  as  a  sign  of  penitential  humiliation,  when 
ahout  to  depart  for  the  holy  land :  though  why  a  broom- 
sprig  should  iadicate  lowliness  is  not  satisfactorily  explaiaed. 

PEOTJ!^. 

The  monks  of  that  day,  who  are  reputed  to  have  been 
very  ignorant,  were  perhaps  acquainted  with  the  "  G-eorgics" 
of  Virgil,  and  recollected  the  verse — 

"Quidmajora  sequar?     SisRoea  humilesgue  Genista." 

II.  434. 
SCOTT. 

I  suppose  there  is  some  similar  recondite  allusion  in  that 
imaccountable  decoration  of  every  holy  traveller's  accoutre- 
ment, the  scoUop-shell  ?  or  was  it  merely  used  to  quaff  the 
waters  of  the  brook  ? 

PEOTTT. 

It  was  first  assumed  by  the  penitents  who  resorted  to  the 
shriue  of  St.  Jago  di  ComposteUa,  on  the  western  coast  of 
Spain,  to  betoken  that  they  had  extended  their  penitential 
excursion  so  far  as  that  sainted  shore ;  just  as  the  palm- 
branch  was  sufficient  evidence  of  a  vfsit  to  Palestine.  Did 
not  the  soldiers  of  a  Eoman  general  fill  their  helmets  with 
cockles  on  the  brink  of  the  German  Ocean  ?  By  the  by, 
when  my  laborious  and  learned  friend  the  renowned  Abb6 
Trublet,  in  vindicatiag  the  deluge  against  Voltaire,  instanced 
the  heaps  of  marine  remains  and  conchy lia  on  the  ridge  of  the 
Pyrenees,  the  witty  reprobate  of  Perney  had  the  unblushing 
effrontery  to  assert  that  those  were  sheUs  left  behind  by  the 
pilgrims  of  St.  Jacques  on  re-crossing  the  mountains. 

SCOTT. 

I  must  not,  meantime,  forget  the  objects  of  my  devotion ; 
and  with  your  benison,  reverend  father,  shall  proceed  to 
examine  the  "  stone." 

PEOTJT. 

Tou  behold,  Sir  "Walter,  in  this  block  the  most  valuable 


50  I'ATHEE  PEOUT's    EELIQUES. 

remnant  of  Ireland's  ancient  glory,  and  the  most  precioiiB 
lot  of  her  Phoenician  inheritance !  Possessed  of  this  trea- 
sure, she  may  well  be  designated 

"  First  flower  of  the  earth  and  first  gem  of  the  sea ;" 

for  neither  the  musical  stone  of  Memnon,  that  "  so  sweetly 
played  in  tune,"  nor  the  oracular  stone  at  Delphi,  nor  the 
lapidary  talisman  of  the  Lydian  Gyges,  nor  the  colossal 
granite  shaped  into  a  sphinx  in  Upper  Egypt,  nor  Stone- 
henge,  nor  the  Pelasgic  walls  of  Italy's  Palsestruia,  offer 
BO  many  attractions.  The  long-sought  lapis  philosophorum, 
compared  with  this  jewel,  dwindles  into  insignificance ;  nay, 
the  savoury  fragment  which  was  substituted  for  the  infant 
Jupiter,  when  Saturn  had  the  mania  of  devouring  his  child- 
ren ;  the  Luxor  obelisk  ;  the  treaty-stone  of  Limerick,  with 
all  its  historic  endearments ;  the  zodiacal  monument  of 
Denderach,  with  all  its  astronomic  importance ;  the  Elgin 
marbles  with  all  their  sculptured,  the  Arundelian  with  all 
their  lettered  riches, — cannot  for  a  moment  stand  in  com- 
petition with  the  Blarney  block.  What  stone  in  the  world, 
save  this  alone,  can  communicate  to  the  tongue  that  suavity 
of  speech,  and  that  splendid  effrontery,  so  necessary  to  get 
through  life  ?  Without  this  resource,  how  could  Brougham 
have  managed  to  delude  the  English  public,  or  Dan  O'Con- 
neU  to  gull  even  his  own  countrymen?  How  could  St. 
John  Long  thrive  ?  or  Dicky  Sheil  prosper  ?  What  else 
could  have  transmuted  my  old  friend  Pat  Lardner  into  a  man 
of  letters— LL.D.,  F.E.S.L.  and  E.,  M.R.I.A.,  E.E.A.S., 
E.L.S.,  F.Z.S.,  E.C.P.S.,  &c.  &c.  ?  What  would  have  be- 
come  of  Spring  Eice  ?  and  who  would  have  heard  of  Charley 
Phillips  ?  When  the  good  fortune  of  the  above-mentioned 
individuals  can  be  traced  to  any  other  source,  save  and 
except  the  Blarney  stone,  I  am  ready  to  renounce  my  belief 
in,  it  altogether-. 

This  palladium  of  our  country  was  brought  hither  origi- 
nally by  the  Phoenician  colony  that  peopled  Ireland,  and  is 
the  best  proof  of  our  eastern  parentage.  The  inhabitants  of 
Tyre  and  Carthage,  who  for  many  years  had  the  Blarney 
stone  in  their  custody,  made  great  use  of  the  privilege,  as 
the  ^noy&vhs  fides  Punica,  Tyriosque  bilinffues,  testify.   Hence 


A  PlEA  I'OE  riLGBIMAGES.  51 

the  origin  of  this  wondrous  talisman  is  of  the  remotest 
antiquity. 

Strabo,  Diodorus,  and  PHny,  mention  the  arrival  of  the 
Tyrians  in  Ireland  about  the  year  883  before  Christ,  accord- 
ing to  the  chronology  of  Sir  Isaac  Newton,  and  the  twenty- 
first  year  after  the  sack  of  Troy. 

Now,  to  show  that  in  all  their  migrations  they  carefully 
watched  over  this  treasure  of  eloquence  and  source  of  di- 
plomacy, I  need  only  enter  into  a  few  etymological  details. 
Carthage,  where  they  settled  for  many  centuries,  but  which 
turns  out  to  have  been  only  a  stage  and  resting-place  in 
the  progress  of  their  western  wanderings,  bears  in  its  very 
name  the  trace  of  its  having  had  in  its  possession  and  cus< 
tody  the  Blarney  Stone.  This  city  is  called  in  the  Scripture 
Tarsus,  or  Tarshish,  ip'irnn,  which  in  Hebrew  means  s 
valuable  stone,  a  stone  of  price,  rendered  in  your  authorised  (  ?) 
version,  where  it  occurs  in  the  28th  and  39th  chapters  oi 
Exodus,  by  the  specific  term  beryl,  a  sort  of  jewel.  In  his 
commentaries  on  this  word,  an  eminent  rabbi,  Jacob  Eodri- 
gues  Moreira,  the  Spanish  Jew,  says  that  Carthage  is  evi- 
dently the  Tarsus  of  the  Bible,  and  he  reads  the  word  thus — 
Uinn,  accounting  for  the  termination  in  ish,  by  which 
Carthago  becomes  Garskish,  iu  a  veryplausible  way:  "now," 
says  he,  "  our  peoplish  have  de  very  great  knack  of  ending 
dere  vords  in  ish ;  for  if  you  go  on  the  'Change,  you  will 
hear  the  great  man  NichoUsh  Eotchild  calling  the  English 
coin,  monuh." — ^ee  Lectures  delivered  in  the  Western  Syna- 
gogue, by  J.  E.  M. 

But,  further,  does  it  not  stand  to  reason  that  there 
must  be  some  other  latent  way  of  aceountiag  for  the  pur- 
chase of  as  much  ground  as  an  ox-hide  would  cover,  besides 
the  generally  received  and  most  unsatisfactory  explanation  ? 
The  fact  is,  the  Tyrians  bought  as  much  land  as  their  Blarney 
stone  would  require  to  fix  itself  golidly,— 

"  Taurino  quantum  potuit  circumdare  tergo ;'' 

and  having  got  that  much,  by  the  talismanic  stone  they 
humbugged  and  deluded  the  simple  natives,  and  finally  be- 
came the  masters  of  Africa. 

SCOTT. 

I  confess  you  have  thrown  a  new  and  unexpected  light  on 

E  2 


52  FATHEE  PEOn'S    EELIQTJBS. 

a  most  obscure  passage  in  ancient  history;  but  how  the 
stone  got  at  last  to  the  county  of  Cork,  appears  to  me  a 
difficult  transition.     It  must  give  you  great  trouble. 

PEOTTT. 

My  dear  sir,  don't  mention  it !  It  went  to  Minorca  with 
a  chosen  body  of  Carthaginian  adventurers,  who  stole  it 
away  as  their  best  safeguard  on  the  expedition.  They  first 
settled  at  Port  Mahon, — a  spot  so  called  from  the  clan  of 
the  O'Mahonys,  a  powerful  and  prolific  race  stUl  flourishing 
in  this  county ;  just  as  the  Nile  had  been  previously  so 
named  from  the  tribe  of  the  O'NeUs,  its  aboriginal  inhabi- 
tants. All  these  matters,  and  many  more  curious  points,  will 
be  one  day  revealed  to  the  world  by  my  friend  Henry 
O'Brien,  iu  his  work  on  the  Eound  Towers  of  Ireland.  Sir, 
we  built  the  pyramids  before  we  left  Egypt ;  and  aU  thos6 
obelisks,  sphinxes,  and  Memnonic  stones,  were  but  emblems 
of  the  great  relic  before  you. 

George  Knapp,  who  had  looked  up  to  Prout  with  dumb 
amazement  from  the  commencement,  here  pulled  out  his 
spectacles,  to  examine  more  closely  the  old  block,  while  Scott 
shook  his  head  doubtingly. 

"  I  can  convince  the  most  obstinate  sceptic.  Sir  "Walter," 
continued  the  learned  doctor,  "  of  the  intimate  connexion 
that  subsisted  between  us  and  those  islands  which  the  Eo- 
mans  called  insula  Baleares,  without  knowing  the  sigrufieatioQ 
of  the  words  which  they  thus  applied.  That  they  were  so 
called  from  the  Blarney  stone,  will  appear  at  once  to  any 
person  accustomed  to  trace  Celtic  derivations :  the  Ulster 
king  of  arms,  Sir  William  Betham,  has  shown  it  by  the  fol- 
lowing scale." 

Here  Prout  traced  with  his  cane  on  the  muddy  floor  of  the 
castle  the  words 

"  BaLeAEcs  iSsulM='Eisrxi^ !" 


SOOTT. 

Prodigious !  My  reverend  friend,  you  have  set  the  point 
at  rest  for  ever — rem  acu  tetigisti !  Have  the  goodness  to 
proceed. 


A  PLEA  FOE  PILGEIMAGES.  53 

PEOrT. 

Setting  sail  from  Minorca,  the  expedition,  after  encounter- 
ing a  desperate  storm,  cleared  the  Pillars  of  Hercules,  and 
landing  in  the  Cove  of  Cork,  deposited  their  treasure  in  the 
greenest  spot  and  the  shadiest  groves  of  this  beautiful  vi- 
cinity. 

SCOTT. 

How  do  you  account  for  their  being  left  by  the  Cartha- 
ginians in  quiet  possession  of  this  invaluable  deposit  ? 

PEOUT. 

They  had  sufficient  tact  (derived  from  their  connexion 
with  the  stone)  to  give  out,  that  in  the  storm  it  had  been 
thrown  overboard  to  relieve  the  ship,  in  latitude  36°  14", 
longitude  24°.  A  search  was  ordered  by  the  senate  of  Car- 
thage, and  the  Mediterranean  was  dragged  without  effect  \ 
but  the  mariners  of  that  sea,  according  to  Virgil,  retained  a 
superstitious  reverence  for  every  submarine  appearance  of 
a  stone  : 

"  SaXB,  TOcant  Itali  mediis  qase  in  fluctibus  aras !" 

And  Aristotle  distinctly  says,  in  his  treatise  "  De  Mirandis," 
quoted  by  the  erudite  Justus  Lipsius,  that  a  law  was  enacted 
against  any  further  intercourse  with  Ireland.  His  words 
are  ;  "  In  man,  extra  Herculis  Columnas,  insulam  desertam 
inventam  fuisse  sylvd  netnorosam,  in  quam  crebr6  Carthagini- 
enses  commeirint,  et  sedes  etiam  fixerint :  sed  veriti  ne 
nimis  cresceret,  et  Carthago  laberetur,  edicto  cavisse  ne 
quis  poBnA  capitis  e6  deinceps  navigaret." 

The  fact  is,  Sir  "Walter,  Ireland  was  always  considered  a 
lucky  spot,  and  constantly  excited  the  jealousy  of  Greeks, 
Eomans,  and  people  of  every  country.  The  Athenians 
thought  that  the  ghosts  of  departed  heroes  were  transferred 
to  our  fortunate  island,  which  they  call,  in  the  war-song  of 
Harmodius  and  Aristogiton,  the  land  of  O's  and  Macs : 

^iXraS'  'Agf/,odi,  outs  vou  Tihrixag, 
Nnaoif  d'  IV  MAK  ag'  XIN  (fs  (paeiv  umi. 

And  the  "  Groves  of  Blarney  "  have  been  commemorated 
by  the  Greek  poets  many  centuries  before  the  Christian  era. 


51  TATnEE  pboitt's  eemques. 


BCOTT. 

There  is  certainly  somewhat  of  Grecian  simplicity  in  the 
old  song  itself ;  and  if  Pindar  had  been  an  Irishman,  I  think 
he  would  have  celebrated  this  favourite  haunt  ia  a  style  not 
very  different  from  Millikin's  classic  rhapsody. 

PEOTTT. 

MilUkin,  the  reputed  author  of  that  song,  was  but  a, 
simple  translator  from  the  Greek  origiaal.  Indeed,  I  have 
discovered,  when  abroad,  in  the  library  of  Cardinal  Mazarin, 
an  old  Greek  manuscript,  which,  after  diligent  examination, 
I  am  convinced  must  be  the  oldest  and  .";princeps  editio  " 
of  the  song.  I  begged  to  be  allowed  to  copy  it,  in  order 
that  I  might  compare  it  vrith  the  ancient  Latin  or  Vulgate 
translation  which  is  preserved  rathe  Brera  at  Milan  ;  and 
from  a  strict  and  minute  comparison  with  that,  and  with  the 
Norman-French  copy  which-is  appended  to  Doomsday-book, 
and  the  .Celtic-Irish  fragaaent  preserved  by  Crofton  Croker, 
(rejecting  as  spurious  the  Arabic,  Armenian,  and  Chaldaic 
stanzas  on -the  same  subject,  to  be  found  in  the  collection  of 
the.Sojfal.  Asiatic  Society,)  r have  come  to  the  conclusion 
that  "the- Greeks  were  tlie  undoubted  original  contrivers  of 
that  spl^hdid'ode ;  though  whether' we  ascribe  it  to  Tyrtaeus 
or  GaUimachus  will  depend  on  future  evidence  ;  and  per- 
haps, 'Sir  Walter,  you  would  give  me  your  opinion,  as  I  have 
copies  of  aU  the  versions  I  alludfe-  to  at  my  dwelling  on  the 
hill. 

-  SbpTT. 

I  cannot  boast,  learned  father,  of  .much  vous  in  Hellenistic 
matters;  but  should  find  myself  quite. at  home  in  the  Gaelic 
and  Norman- Erench,  to  inspect  which  I  shall  with  pleasure 
accompany  you :  so  here  I  kiss- the  stone ! 

The  wonders  of  "  the  castle,"  and  "  cave,"  and  "  lake," 
were  speedily  gone  over  ;  and  now,  according  to  the  usage 
of  the  dramatist,  modo  Roma,  modb  ponit  Athenis,  we  shift 
the  scene  to  the  tabernacle  of  Father  Prout  on  Watergrass- 
hill,  where,  round  a  small  table,  sat  Scott,  Knapp,  and  Prout 
— a  triumvirate  of    critics   never  equalled.     The  papers 


So    iL^rp    1   lEiss     ttiG     Sione 


A   PLEA   Jl'OE   PILOEIMAGES. 


55 


fell  into  my  hands  when  the  table  was  cleared  for 
the  subsequent  repast ;  and  thus  I  am  able  to  submit 
to  the  world's  decision  what  these  three  could  not  de- 
cide, viz.  which  is  the  original  version  of  the  "  Groves  of 
Blarney." 

P.S.  At  the  moment  of  going  to  press  with  the  Doric, 
the  Vulgate,  and  Grallic  texts  in  juxta-position  with  the  sup- 
posed original,  (Corcagian)  a  fifth  candidate  for  priority 
starts  up,  the  Italic,  said  to  be  sung  by  Garibaldi  in  bivouac 
amid  the  woods  over  Lake  Como,  May  25, 1859. 


Dr  Blame'  i  bosohi 
Bei,  benclie  fosohi, 
In  Tersi  Toschi 

Vorrei  oantar — 
Lk  doTe  meschi 
Son  fiori  freschi 
Ben  pittoreachi 

Pel  passegiar. 
Vi  Bono  gigli 
Bianch'  e  TermigU 
Ch'  ogntm  ne  pigli 

In  UbertS. — 
Anch'  odorose 
Si  eoglian'  rose 
Da  gioyin'  spose 

Kor  di  belU ! 

Miladi  &ifra 
Si  gode  qni  ir^ 
Immensa  cifra 

Di  rioehi  ben, 
E  tutti  sanno 
Se  Carlomanno 
E  Cesare  hanno 

Piii  cor  nel  sen. 
II  fier'  CromweUo 
Si  sa,  fa  quelle 
Ch'  a  sue  castello 

Assalto  di^, 
Si  dice  per6 
Ch'  Oliriero 
Al  quartiero 

La  breccia  &  I 


J  J3oJicT)t  "Hi  JSlarnea. 

Quei  luoghi  dimqne 
Veggo ;  chivinque 
Brama  spelunche 

Non  cerch'  in  van, 
Dentr'  una  grotta 
Vi'^  fiera  lotta 
Mai  interrotta 

Era  gatti  stran'. 
Ma  fuor  si  serba 
Di  musco  ed  erba 
Sedia  superba 

Per  qiii  pescar 
Nel  lago  anguille  j 
Poi  faggi  mOIe 
L'acque  tranquille 

Stan  per  ombrar. 

Con  cheto  passo 
Si  va  a  spasso 
Q.ui,  fin  che  lasso 

Si  Tuol  seder ; 
II  triste  amante 
Pu6  legger  Dante 
Od  ascoltar  canti 

DeUo  pivier. 
Poi  se  la  gonna 
Di  gentn  donna, 
Won  mica  nonna, 

Vien  quk  passar, 
H  corteggiano 
Non  pregh'  in  rano 
Sarebbe  strano 

Di  nou  amar ! 


lutomo,  parmi, 
Scolpiti  marmi 
Vi  son,  per  farmi 

Stupir  ancor' ; 
Quei  sembran'  essere 
Plutarch'  e  Cesare 
Con  Nebuchnezzere, 

Venere  ed  Amor ! 


cosa  unica. 
Qui  senza  tunica ! 
Mentre  oomunica 

Con  altro  mar' 
Leggiadra  baroa ; — 
Ma  ci  vuol'  Petrarca 
Per  la  gran  carca 

Di  quel  narrar. 

Sar6  ben  basso 
Se  oltre  passo 
Un  certo  sasso 

D'  alto  valor ; 
In  su  la  faccia 
Di  chi  lo  baccia 
Perenne  traooia 

Kiman  talor : 
Quel  si  distingue 
Con  usar  lingue 
Pien  di  lusinghe 

Per  ingannar : 
Eamosa  Pietra ! 
Mia  umil'  cetra 
Or  qui  dipongo 

Su  quest'  altar*  1 


56 


TATHBE  PEOri'S   EELIQTJES. 


W^t  &xobtS  of  3^laxntia.        Le  Bois  be  Blaenatf. 


I. 

The  groves  of  Blarney, 
They  look  so  charming, 
Down  by  the  purlings 
Of  sweet  silent  brooks, 
All  decked  by  posies 
That  spontaneous  grow  there, 
Planted  in  order 
In  the  rocky  nooks. 
'Tis  there  the  daisy, 
And  the  sweet  carnation. 
The  blooming  pink, 
And  the  rose  so  &ir ; 
Likewise  the  lily, 
And  the  daffodilly — 
All  flowers  that  scent 
The  sweet  open  air. 

II. 
'Tis  Lady  Jeflers 
Owns  this  plantation ; 
Like  Alexander, 
Or  like  Helen  fair. 
There's  no  commander 
In  all  the  nation. 
For  regulation 
Can  with  her  compare. 
Such  walls  siuTOund  her, 
That  no  nine-pounder 
Could  ever  plunder 
Her  place  of  strength ; 
But  Oliver  CromweU, 
Her  he  did  pommel. 
And  made  a  breach 
In  her  battlement. 


Clmrmcms  hoeaget ! 
Vous  me  rimissez, 
Que  d'lmantages 
Vous  rStmissez  ! 
Rochera  sauvagea, 
Faisihles  ruisseaux, 
Tendrea  ramages 
De  gentila  oiseaux  : 
Mans  ee  doux  parage 
Aimaile  Stature 
A  fait  4talage 
D'eternelle  verdure ; 
Et  lesfleurs,  a  mesure 
Qu'ellea  croiasmt,  a  raiaon 
Se  la  belle  aaison 
Font  brtller  lew  parure. 

IL 

Ceat  Madame  de  Jefferta, 
Femme  pleine  d'ad^ease, 
Qui  aur  cea  leaux  deaerta 
S^gne  en  Jiere  princeaae. 
File  exerce  aea  droita 
Comme  dame  maitretae, 
Dana  cette  foriereeee 
Que  la  hautje  vois. 
Flue  sage  millefois 
Qu'  Sileni  ou  CUopatre, 
Cromvel  seulput  I'aUAtre, 
La  mettant  aux  dboia^ 
Quand,  allumant  an  miche. 
Point  ne  tira  au  haaard, 
Maia  hien  dana  son  rempart 
Fit  irreparable  breche. 


THE    GEOTES   OE   BIAENET. 


57 


'H  'TX)j  BXagnxn- 

Ti/j  BXopviag  ai  i\«t 
$Epiffrai,  Ka\Xi0u\\ai, 
"Ojrow  (Tiyj  peotKTi 
Ilqyai  ;(/i9upi?ow(7ai' 
'E/cowra  yivvr\9tvTa 

'OjlOIQ  T£  <j>VTivdlVTa 

Me<7(roi£  ev  ayicoveo'irii/ 
Effr'  aj/fle'  jrerpwJtffffiv. 
E«i  £<rr'  ay'Kairifia 
VXvKv  KOI  epii0i)/ia, 
lov  r'  EKfi  9a\ov  te 
BairtXiKov  poSov  re. 
Kai  Xetpiov  re  0ve(, 
Av^o^eXoc  T(  I3pvei, 
Uavr'  avBe/i'  a  KoK-gaiv 
Ef  ivStaig  atjatv. 


Blarneum  Nemm, 

I. 

QuisquiB  hio  in  Isetis 
GaudeB  errare  viretis, 
Turrigeras  rupeB 
Blarnea  easa  stupes ! 
Murmure  dirm  Cisco 
Lymphanim  peretrepit  echo, 
Quas  veluti  mutaB 
Ire  per  arva  putaB. 
Multus  in  hoc  luco 
Bubet  undique  flos  sine  Aico, 
Ac  ibi  formosaju 
Cernis  ubique  rosam; 
Suaviter  hi  flores 
Misoent  ut  amabis  odores  j 
Nee  requiem  demus, 
Nam  placet  omne  nemus ! 


Tavrije  IE*EPE2SA 
KaX)}  KOI  -jf^apiiaaa 
'Qq  "EXivri,  its  '■'  "'"£ 
Tou  kjijiCvoQ  6  Stag, 
♦wTEine  car'  avaaar). 
Ifpvy  T*  tv  avaay 
OvTig  PpoTbtv  yevoiTO 
'Os  avry  av/ipfpoiro, 
OtKOwo/ntU'  yap  olSe. 
To(;(oc  Toaoi  Toiot  Se 
A.i)Triv  aft0i(rr£^ovrat, 
noXc/iiKi;  we  ppovTf) 
Marriv  viv  /3aXX'  we  ijpwc 
Kpo;i*weXXoe  OXupripoQ 
Ejrjpffe,  St  cnraaag 
AicpojroXewj  Trcpaaag. 


II. 
Poemina  dux  horum , 
Eegnat  Jeferessa  looorum, 
Pace,  rirago  gravis, 
Marteque  pejor  avis ! 
Africa  npn  atram 
Componeret  ei  Cleopatram, 
Nee  Dido  constares ! 
Non  habet  ilia  pares. 
Turre  manens  iatft 
NuUA  est  violanda  balistS, ; 
Turris  erat  diris 
Non  penetranda  riris ; 
Cromwellus  latum 
Tamen  iUlc  fecit  hiatum, 
Et  ludoa  heros 
Luoit  in  arce  feros  \ 


58 


TATHEE  PEOUT  S   EELIQUES. 


III. 


III. 


There  is  a  cave  where 
No  dayKght  enters, 
But  cats  and  badgers 
Are  for  ever  bred  j 
Aad  mossed  by  nature 
Makes  it  completer 
Than  a  coach-and-six. 
Or  a  downy-bed. 
'Tis  there  the  lake  is 
Well  stored  with  fishes, 
Ajid  comely  eels  in 
The  verdant  mud ; 
Besides  the  leeches, 
And  groves  of  beeches. 
Standing  in  order 
To  guard  the  flood. 


n  est  aans  ces  vallonB 
Uhe  sombre  caverne, 
Ou  jamais  nous  n'aUoni 
Qu'armh  d'une  lanterne. 
La  mousse  en  cette  grottt 
Tapissant  chaque  motte 
Vous  offre  des  sofas ; 
Et  la  se  trouve  unie 
La  douce  symphonic 
Des  hiboux  et  des  chats. 
Tout  pres  on  voit  un  lac, 
Ou  les  poissons  affluent, 
Avec  assez  de  sangsues 
Pour  en  remplir  tin  sac  ; 
St  sur  ces  bords  cham/pitrei 
On  a  plants  des  AStres. 


IV. 


IT. 


There  gravel  walks  are 
For  recreation, 
And  meditation 
In  sweet  solitude. 
'Tis  there  the  lover 
May  hear  the  dove,  or 
The  gentle  plover. 
In  the  afternoon ; 
And  if  a  lady 
Would  be  so  engaging 
As  for  to  walk  in 
Those  shady  groves, 
'lis  there  the  courtier 
Might  soon  transport  her 
Into  some  fort,  or 
The  "  sweet  rook-close.'" 


Xei  I'homme  atraiilaire 
Un  sentier  peut  ehoisir 
Pour  y  stiivir  a  loisir 
Son  rSve  solitaire, 
Quand  une  nymphe  cruclle 
L'a  mis  au  desespoir. 
Sans  quHl  puisse  emouvoir 
L'inexorable  belle. 
Quel  douse  reposje  go&te, 
Assis  sur  ce  gazon  ! 
JJu  rossignol  j' iooute 
Le  tendre  diapason. 
Ah !  dans  cet  antre  noir 
Puisse  ma  Lienors, 
Celle  que  man  coeur  adore, 
Venir  furtive  ausoirt 


THE    (JEOTES   OE   BLAENET. 


59 


Kai  avrpov  tar''  ckh  Se 
'Of'  4/Jep'  ovTroT  iiSc, 
MeXeig  Se  Kai  yaXai  iv 
AvTif)  rpi^ovTai  aieV 
ErrfXttrrepov  ^vov  re 
A/KptQ  7roi£i  Ppvov  ye 
"Efyvirov  1)  Biippoio 
H  Kotrijc  lowXoJo" 
Ix9viuiv  Tt  fiiaTri 
AtflVtJ  SK€L  TTapsffrif 
K'eyxeXets  ^vovai 
'Ev  i\vi  GoKovay 
B^eXXai  rs  tiaiv  aXKa 
itjymv  re  aXffi)  koX'  h 
^Tixt""'  eKEi  riTaKTai, 
Aij  poij  Tre^uXaicroi. 


III. 

Hio  tenebrosa  cayema 
Est,  gattorumque  tabema, 
Talp^  habitata  pigro, 
Non  sine  fele  nigro ; 
MuBcus  iners  olli 
Stravit  loca  tegmme  molli 
Lecticee,  ut  plumis 
Mollior  esset  humus : 
Inque  lacu  anguiUEe 
Luteo  nant  gurgite  mille ; 
Q.uo  nat,  arnica  luti, 
Hostis  hirudo  outi : 
&raude  deeus  pagi, 
HuTii  Btant  margine  fagi ; 
Quodque  tegunt  ramo 
Labile  flumen  amo ! 


Ai9'vaQ  y'  ex",  '"'opeiaq 
'Gveica  TreptTraremff, 
Tjvvoiav  re  9uav 
Kar  eprifiiav  yXvKeiav 
E?e(rr»  xai  epaary 
MeO'  iairepav  dKaary 
Aicoveiv  r)  rpijpwv'  >} 
Se,  fjiiKpe  \iyvfj>tt)ve  ] 
Ei  rig  re  Kai  Stairoiva 
Evet  KaXq  fiePoiVf 
AXaaOai  Tejieveaai 
"LaitiQ  ev  (TKioeafftj 
Tiff  evyevrjg  ytvoiTO 
Avrriv  oj  avayoiTO 

Elf  TTVpyOV  Tl  IJ  TTpOJ  (TE, 

Q  XtBivov  aveoc  ye ! 


IV. 

Cemis  in  has  valles 
Qu6  duount  tramite  calles, 
Hanc  mente  in  sedem 
Per  meditante  pedem, 
Quisquis  ades,  bellae 
TransfixuB  amore  pueUae 
Aut  patrise  carse 
TempuB  inane  dare ! 
Dumque  jaoes  herbA, 
Turtur  flet  voce  superbi, 
Arboreoque  throno 
Met  philomela  Bono  : 
Spelunca  apparet 
Qnam  dux  TrojanuB  amaret, 
In  simili  nido 
Nam  fait  icta  Dido. 


60 


FATHES  PEOTTT'S   EELIQUE3. 


There  are  statues  gracing 
,     Tliis  noble  place  in — 
All  heathen  gods, 
And  nymphs  so  fair ; 
Bold  Neptune,  Caesar, 
And  Nebuchadnezzar, 
All  standing  naked 
In  the  open  air ! 
There  is  a  boat  on 
The  lake  to  float  on, 
And  lots  of  beauties 
Which  I  can't  entwine : 
But  were  I  a  preacher. 
Or  a  classic  teacher, 
In  every  feature 
I'd  make  'em  shine  t 


V. 

Dans  oes  classiques  lima 
Plus  iCune  statue  brille, 
Et  seprisente  aim  yma 
En  parfait  dishabille  1 
La  Neptune  on  discerne, 
Et  Jules  Cesar^  en  plomb, 
Et  Venus,  et  le  trone 
Dtt  Oeniral  Soloferne. 
Veut-on  voguer  au  large 
Sur  ce  lac  ?  un  esquif 
Offre  a  i'amateur  craintif 
Les  chances  d'un  naufrage. 
Que  nc'suis-je  vn  Hugo, 
Ou  quelqu' auteur  en  vogue. 
En  ce  genre  deglogue. 
Je  riaurais  pas  d''egaux. 


VI. 
There  is  a  stone  there, 
That  whoever  kisses. 
Oh !  he  never  misses 
To  grow  eloquent. 
'Tis  he  may  clamber 
To  a  lady's  chamber. 
Or  become  a  member 
Of  parliament : 
A  clever  spouter 
He'U  sure  turn  out,  or 
An  out-and-outer, 
"To  be  let  alone," 
Don't  hope  to  hinder  him. 
Or  to  bewUder  him ; 
Sure  he's  a  pilgrim 
From  the  Blarney  stone  !* 

*  End  of  Minikin's  Translation  of 
the  Groves  of  Blarney. 


VI. 
Tine  pierre  s'y  rencontre, 
Ettimable  tresor, 
Qui  vaut  son  poids  en  or 
Au  guide  qui  la  montre. 
Qui  baise  ce  monument, 
Acquiert  la  parole 
Qui  doucement  cajole;  , 

II  devient  eloquent. 
Au  boudoir  d'une  dame 
H  sera  bien  regu, 
Et  mime  a  son  insfu 
Fera  naitre  une  flamme. 
Somme  a  bonnes  fortunes, 
A  lui  on  pent  sejier 
Pour  mystijier 
La  Chambre  des  Communes  t 

t  Ici  finist  le  Po^rae  dit  le  Bois  cle  Bla; 
naye,  copig  du  Livre  de  Doomadaye,  a.  d, 
loes 


THE    GEOTES   03?   BLAENET. 


61 


Effrt  Siov  roTTOV  re. 
Tojv  tBviKmv  deiav  Tt, 
Twv  Af)va3tov  KaXfiiV  Tt' 
TloaeiSiov  ijffs  Kaiaap 
T'  i^ou  NajSExw^i^nffop" 
Ev  aiSpif  diravTag 
Ear'  ijetv  yv^vovg  aravrag. 
Ev  Xijivy  ttrri  irXoioj', 
Et  ns   TrXefiv  dtXoi  av 
*Kat  KaXa  offff'  fyw  ffoi 
Ou  Swan'  eKTViruiaaf 
AXX'  El  y'  f  17)V  Xoyirrrijc, 
H  liSaaKa\oe  iroipiaTtiQ, 
Tot'  sKox^^Tar'  av  (70i 
Aci$ai/i(  TO  dirav  aoi. 


V. 

Plumbea  signa  De<ka 

N emus  ornant,  grande  trophseum ! 

Stas  ibi,  Bacohe  teres ! 

Nee  sine  fruge  Ceres, 

Neptxmique  vago 

De  flumine  surgit  imago ; 

Julius  hlo  Csesar 

Stat,  Nabechud  que  Nezar ! 

Navicula  iusonti 

Dat  cuique  pericula  ponti, 

Si  quis  oymba  h4e  cum 

Vult  super  ire  lacum. 

Carmini  hmc  ter  sum 

Conatus  hlo  addere  versum : 

Pauper  at  ingenio. 

Plus  nihil  iuvenio ! 


Ek£i  Xi0o»'  r'  eipriauQ, 
KvTOv  fiiv  ii  ^iXtjixeiq 
,  'Evlaiiiov  TO  ipiXti/ia' 
Ft/Tiap  yap  Trapaxprma 
rtvijfffat  av  Snvog, 
rvvai^i  t'  epaTuvog, 
SE/Mvorar^t  te  XoXojj' 
Ev  PovXy  Ttav  \itT'  aWu>v 
Kat  tv  Taig  ayopaiai 
"  KadoXiKaif"  fioaiai 
Lrinog  aoi  'KoXovOtjati, 
Kai  xEipaj  <Toi  KpoTtiati 
*Qg  avSpt  Ti^  fiiyiOTt^ 
Atifioyopiav  T  apiOTif 
Q  bSog  ovpavovdt 
Am  BXapviKov  \i0ov  y  y.* 

*  TeXor  Tnr  'Y\»i?  BXavpiKtj?.  Ex  Co- 
dice  Vatic,  vetustiss,  incert.  eri  circa 
u.  Sal.  CM, 


TT. 
Portunatam  autem 
Premuerunt  osoula  cantem 
(Fingere  ditai  conor 
Debittis  huio  sic  honor)  : 
Quam  bene  tu  fingis 
Qui  sasi  oraoula  lingis, 
Eloquioque  sapis 
Quod  dedit  ille  lapis ! 
GratuB  homo  beUis 
!Pit  unotis  meUe  labellis, 
Qratus  erit  populo 
Osoula  dans  soopulo  j 
Pit  Bubit6  orator, 
Caudaque  sequente  senator, 
Seandere  vis  sethram  ? 
Hano  venerare  petram  If 

t  Explicit  hie  Carmen  de  Netnore  B!ai>- 
nensi.  Ex  Codice  No.  464  in  Bibllattiec& 
Bi*erae  apud  Mediolanum. 


62  EATHEE  PEOTJT'S   EEHQTJES. 

leir  A1J  be  le^nf  beAijAjr  A1  ajc  reo 

Corii)-vil  lejc]  cuiD  AfPAccAjr  6'  r-*o*l'- 

Ca  cAirlSAft  'pA  cioiflcioll,  ijAleopTC  pleutiiA, 

a  bAiiAiD  ceAflA  s'AnsMi)  i)A  TsnloT ; 

Her.  Oliberi  Cponjpll;  »'F''i3  5°  FA^  f, 
21T  fl')  beAfiijA  lijoit  joijA  (r&lcA  ni).» 


No.  III. 

TATHEE  PEOrT'S  CAEOUSAL. 

"  He  spread  his  vegetable  store, 
And  gaily  pressed  and  smiled ; 
And,  skilled  in  legendary  lore, 
The  lingering  hours  beguiled." 

Q-OLDSMITH. 

Bei'Oee  we  resume  the  thread  (or  yarn)  of  Prank  Cress- 
well's  narrative  concerning  the  memorable  occurrences 
which  took  place  at  Blarney,  on  the  remarkable  occasion  of 
Sir  "Walter  Scott's  visit  to  "  the  groves,"  we  feel  it  impera- 
tive on  us  to  set  ourselves  right  with  an  illustrious  corre- 
spondent, relative  to  a  most  important  particular.  We 
have  received,  through  that  useful  medium  of  the  inter- 
change of  human  thought,  "  the  twopenny  post,"  a  letter 
which  we  think  of  the  utmost  consequence,  inasmuch  as  it 
goes  to  impeach  the  veracity,  not  of  Father  Prout  {patrem 
quis  dicere  falsum  a/udeat  ?),  but  of  the  young  and  somewhat 
facetious  barrister  who  has  been  the  volunteer  chronicler  of 
his  life  and  conversations. 

For  the  better  understanding  of  the  thing,  as  it  is  likely 
to  bejcome  a  quastio  vexata  in  other  quarters,  we  may  he 
allowed  to  bring  to  recollection  that,  in  enumerating  the 

*  Fragment  of  a  Celtic  MS.,  from  the  Zing's  Library,  Copenhagen. 


THE  WATEBGEASSniLL  CAEOUSAL.  63 

many  emiiient  men  who  had  kissed  the  Blarney  stone  during 
Ptout's  residence  in  the  parish — an  experience  extending 
itself  over  a  period  of  nearly  half  a  century — Doctor  D. 
Lardner  was  triumphantly  mentioned  by  the  benevolent  and 
simple-minded  incumbent  of  "Watergrasshill,  as  a  proud  and 
incontestable  instance  of  the  virtue  and  efficacy  of  the  talis- 
man, applied  to  the  most  ordinary  materials  with  the  most 
miraculous  result.  Tnstead  of  feeling  a  lingering  remnant 
of  gratitude  towards  the  old  parent-block  for  such  super- 
natural interposition  on  his  behalf,  and  looking  back  to  that 
"kiss"  with  fond  and  filial  recollection — instead  of  allowing 
"the  stone"  to  occupy  the  greenest  spot  in  the  wUderness 
of  his  memory — "the  stone"  that  first  sharpened  his  intel- 
lect, and  on  which  ought  to  be  inscribed  the  line  of  Horace, 

"  Fungor  vice  cotis,  aeutum 
Eeddere  quse  valeat  ferrum,  exsors  ipsa  secandi" — 

instead  of  this  praiseworthy  expression  of  tributary  acknow- 
ledgment, the  Doctor  writes  to  us  denying  aU  obligation  in 
the  quarter  alluded  to,  and  contradicting  most  flatly  the 
"soft  impeachment"  of  having  kissed  the  stone  at  aU.  His 
note  is  couched  in  such  peevish  terms,  and  conceived  in  such 
fretful  mood,  that  we  protest  we  do  not  recognise  the  tame 
and  usually  uneicited  tracings  of  his  gentle  pen ;  but  rather 
suspect  he  has  been  induced,  by  some  medical  wag,  to  use  a 
quill  plucked  from  the  membranous  iategument  of  that  cele- 
brated "  man-porcupine  "  who  has  of  late  exhibited  his  hir- 
Buteness  at  the  Middlesex  hospital. 

"London  University,  May  ith. 
,    "SlE, 

"  I  owe  it  to  the  great  cause  of  '  Useful  Kiow- 
l]sdge,'  to  which  I  have  dedicated  my  past  labours,  to  rebut 
temperately,  yet  firmly,  the  assertion  reported  to  have  been 
made  by  the  late  Eev.  Mr.  Front  (for  whom  I  had  a  high 
legard),  in  conversing  with  the  late  Sir  "Walter  Scott  on  the 
occasion  alluded  to  in  your  ephemeral  work  ;  particularly  as 
I  find  the  statement  re-asserted  by  that  widely-circulated 
journal  the  Morning  Herald  of  yesterday's  date.  Were 
either  the  reverend  clergyman  or  the  distinguished  baronet 
now  living,  I  would  appeal  to  their  candour,  and  so  shame 


64  FATHEE  PEOTJT'S   EELIQ0ES. 

the  iiiTentor  of  that  tale.  But  as  both  are  withdrawn  by 
death  from  the  literary  world,  I  call  on  yon,  sir,  to  insert  in 
your  next  Number  this  positive  denial  on  my  part  of  having 
ever  kissed  that  stone ;  the  supposed  properties  of  which,  I 
am  ready  to  prove,  do  not  bear  the  test  of  chymical  analysis. 
I  do  recollect  having  been  solicited  by  the  present  Lord 
Chancellor  of  England  (and  also  of  the  London  University), 
whom  I  am  proud  to  call  my  friend  (though  you  have  given 
him  the  sobriquet  of  Bridlegoose,  with  your  accustomed  want 
of  deference  for  great  names),  to  join  him,  when,  many  years 
ago,.he  privately  embarked  on  board  a  "Westmoreland  colHer 
to  perform  his  devotions  at  Blarney.  That  circumstance  is 
of  old  date :  it  was  about  the  year  that, Paris  was  taken  by 
the  allies,  and  certainly  previous  to  the  Queen's  trial.  But 
I  did  not  accompany  the  then  simple  Harry  Brougham,  con- 
tent with  what  nature  had  done  for  me  in  that  particular 
department. 

"  Tou  wUl  please  insert  this  disavowal  from, 

"  SlE, 

"  Tour  occasional  reader, 

"DiONYsirs  Laednee,  D.D, 

"  P.S. — If  you  neglect  me,  I  shall  take  care  to  state  my 
own  case  in  the  Cyclopaedia.  I'll  prove  that  the  block  at 
Blarney  is  an  '  AeroUthe,'  and  that  your  statement  as  to  its 
Phoenician  origin  is  imsupported  by  historical  evidence. 
Eecollect,  you  have  thrown  the  first  stone." 

Now,  after  considering  these  things,  and  much  pondering 
on  the  Doctor's  letter,  it  seemed  advisable  to  refer  the 
matter  to  our  reporter,  Frank  Cresswell  aforesaid,  who  has 
given  us  perfect  satisfaction.  By  him  our  attention  was 
called,  first,  to  the  singular  bashfulness  of  the  learned  man, 
in  curtailing  from  his  signature  the  usual  appendages  that 
shed  such  lustre  o'er  his  name.  He  lies  before  us  in  this 
epistle  a  simple  D.D.,  whereas  he  certainly  is  entitled  to 
write  himself  P.E.S.,  M.E.I.A.,  P.E.A.S.,  P.L.S.,  P.Z.S., 
P.C.P.S.,  &c.  Thus,  in  his  letter,  "  we  saw  him,"  to  borrow 
an  illustration  from  the  beautiful  episode  of  James  Thomson, 

"  We  saw  him  charming ;  but  we  saw  not  half — 
The  rest  his  downcast  modesty  concealed." 


THE   WATEEGEASSHILL    CAKOTTSAl.  65 

Next  as  to  dates :  how  redolent  of  my  Uncle  Toby — ■ 
"about  the  year  Dendermonde  was  taken  by  the  allies." 
The  reminiscence  was  probably  one  of  which  he  was  uncon- 
scious, and  we  therefore  shall  not  call  him  a  plagiary ;  but 
how  slily,  how  diabolically  does  he  seek  to  shift  the  onus 
and  gravamen  of  the  whole  business  on  the  rickety  shoulders 
of  his  learned  friend  Bridlegoose !  This'  will  not  do,  O 
sage  Thaumaturffus  !  By  implicating  "  Bridoison,"  you  shall 
not  extricate  yourself — "  et  vituld  tu  dignus,  et  hie  •"  and 
Prank  Cresswell  has  let  us  into  a  secret.  Know  then,  aU 
men,  that  among  these  never-too-anxiously-to-be-looked-out- 
for  "  Prout  Papers,"  there  is  a  positive  record  of  the  initia- 
tion both  of  Henry  Brougham  and  Patrick  Lardner  to  the 
dSreemasonry  of  the  Blarney  stone ;  and,  more  important 
still — (0,  most  rare  document !) — there  is  to  be  found  amid 
the  posthumous  treasures  of  Pather  Prout  the  original  pro- 
ject of  a  University  at  Blarney,  to  be  then  and  there  founded 
by  the  united  efforts  of  Lardner,  Dan  0'  ConneU,  and  Tom 
Steele;  and  of  which  the  Doctor's  "  aebolithe  "  was  to 
have  been  the  corner-stone.* 

"We  therefore  rely  on  the  forthcoming  Prout  Papers  for  a 
confirmation  of  all  we  have  said  ;  and  here  do  we  cast  down 
the  glove  of  defiance  to  the  champion  of  Stinkomalee,  even 
though  he  come  forth  armed  to  the  teeth  in  a  panoply,  not, 
of  course,  forged  on  the  classic  anvil  of  the  Cyclops,  however 
laboriously  hammered  in  the  clumsy  arsenal  of  his  own 
"  Cyclopsedia." 

*  This  proieoted  •university  has  since  assumed  another  shape,  and  a 
house  in  Steven's  Green,  Dublin,  ouoe  the  residence  of  "  SmcA  WhaUey,' 
or  "Jerusalem  WhaUey,"  (he  having  walked  there  and  back  for  a  wagerj, 
has  been  bought  by  Dr.  CuUen,  to  whom  Mr.  DiaraeU  will  grant  a 
charter  to  put  down  the  "  Queen's  coUeges."  The  Blarney  university 
woiild  have  cultivated  fun  and  the  genial  development  of  nation^ 
aouteness,  but  the  Cullen  affair  can  ha,ve  naught  in  common  with 
Blarney,  save  being 

"  A  cave  where  no  daylight  enters, 

But  cats  and  badgers  are  for  ever  bred!" 
a  foul  nest  of  discord,  rancour,  hopeless  gloom,  and  Dens'  theology,  or 
as  the  Italiao  version,  page  55,  has  it, 
"  In  questa  grotta 

Mai  interrotta 

Yi  e  fiera  lotta,  fra  gatti  stran !  ^ 


66  FATHEE  PEOUT'S   EEIilQUBS. 

"We  know  there  is  amotlier  world,  where  every  man  will 
get  his  due  according  to  his  deserts ;  but  if  there'  be  a  limbus 
patrum,  or  literary  purgatory,  where  the  effrontery  and  ingra- 
titude of  folks  ostensibly  belonging  to  the  republic  of  letters 
are  to  be  visited  with  condign  retribution,  we  think  we  behold 
in  that  future  middle  state  of  purification  (which,  from  our 
friend's  real  name,  we  shall  caU  FatricKs  Purgatory),  Pat 
Lardner  roUing  the  Blarney  stone,  h,  la  Sisyphus,  up  the  hill 
of  Science. 

Ka/  fitiv  "Sidupov  eiaiidov  x^arsp'  aXys'  sp^oi/ra 

AuTig  i'Xsira  teSovSs  xuXivSito  AAA2  ANAIAH2  ! 
And  now  we  return  to  the  progress  of  events  on  Water- 
grasshiU,  and  to  matters  more  congenial  to  the  taste  of  our 
Eegina. 

OLIVEE  TOEKE. 

Regent  Street,  \st  June,  1835. 


Fumival't  Inn,  May  14. 

Accept,  0  Queen!  my  compliments  congratulatory  on 
the  unanimous  and  most  rapturous  welcome  with  which  the 
whole  literary  world  hath  met,  on  its  first  entrance  into 
life,  that  wonderful  and  more  than  Siamese  bantling  your 
"  Polyglot  edition"  of  the  "  Groves  of  Blarney."  Of  course, 
various  are  the  conjectures  of  the  gossips  in  Paternoster 
Eow  as  to  the  real  paternity  of  that  "  most  delicate  mon- 
ster ;"  and  some  have  the  unwarrantable  hardihood  to  hint 
that,  like  the  poetry  of  Sternhold  and  Hopkins,  your  incom- 
parable lyric  must  be  referred  to  a  joint-stock  sort  of  pa- 
rentage :  but,  entre  nous,  how  stupid  and  malignant  are  all 
such  insinuations !  How  little  do  such  simpletons  suspect 
or  know  of  the  real  source  from  which  hath  emanated  that 
rare  combination  of  the  Teian  lyre  and  the  Tipperary  bag- 
pipe— of  the  Ionian  dialect  blending  harmoniously  with  the 
Cork  brogue ;  an  Irish  potatoe  seasoned  with  Attic  salt,  and 
the  humours  of  Donnybrook  wed  to  the  glories  of  Marathon ! 
Verily,  since  the  days  of  the  great  Complutensian  Polyglot 
(by  the  compilation  of  which  the  illustrious  Cardinal  Xi- 
menes  so  endeared  himself  to  the  bibliomaniacal  world),  since 
the  appearance  of  that  stiU  grander  effort  of  the  "  Claren- 
don" at  Oxford,  the  "Tetrapla,"  originally  compiled  by  the 


THE   WATBEGEASSHILIi   CAEOUSAL.  67 

most  laborious  and  eccentric  father  of  the  Churcli,  Origen 
of  Alexandria,  nothing  has  issued  from  the  press  in  a  com- 
pleter form  than  your  improved  quadruple  version  of  the 
"  Groves  of  Blarney."  The  celebrated  proverb,  lucus  d.  non 
lueendo,  so  often  quoted  with  malicious  meaning  and  for 
invidious  purposes,  is  no  longer  applicable  to  your  "  Groves :" 
this  quaint  conceit  has  lost  its  sting,  and,  to  speak  in  Gully's 
phraseology,  you  have  taken  the  shine  out  of  it.  What  a 
halo  of  glory,  what  a  flood  of  lustre,  will  henceforth  spread 
itself  over  that  romantic  "  plantation !"  How  oft  shall  its 
echoes  resound  with  the  voice  of  song,  Greek,  Prench,  or' 
Latin,'  according  to  the  taste  or  birthplace  of  its  European 
visitors  ;  all  charmed  with  its  shady  bowers,  and  enraptured 
with  its  dulcet  melody !  From  the  dusty  purlieus  of  High 
Holbom,  where  I  pine  in  a  foetid  atmosphere,  my  spirit 
soars  afar  to  that  enchanting  scenery,  wafted  on  the  wings 
of  poesy,  and  transported  with  the  ecstacy  of  Elysium —  ■ 

"  Videor  pios 
Errare  per  lucoa,  amoenae 
Quos  et  aquffi  subeunt  efc  aurae !" 

Mine  may  be  an  illusion,  a  hallucination,  an  "amabilis  in- 
sania,"  if  you  will ;  but  meantime,  to  find  some  solace  in 
my  exile  from  the  spot  itself,  I  cannot  avoid  poring,  with 
more  than  antiquarian  relish,  over  the  different  texts  placed 
by  you  in  such  tasteful  juxtaposition,  anon  comparing  and 
collatiag  each  particular  version  with  alternate  gusto. — 

"  Amant  altema  CamcenEe." 

How  pure  and  pellucid  the  flow  of  harmony  !  how  reaplbn- 
dent  the  well-grouped  images,  shining,  as  it  were,  in  a  sort 
of  milky  way,  or  poetic  galaxy,  through  your  glorious  co- 
lumns ;  to  vhich  I  cannot  do  better  than  apply  a  line  of 
St.  Gregory  (the  accomplished  Greek  father)  of  Nazian- 
zene — 

'H  eofmz  iTTiyii  ev  jSilSXioigi  guil' 

A  great  minister  is  said  to  have  envied  his  forei^  secretary 
the  ineffable  pleasure  of  reading  "  Don  Quixote"  in  the 
original  Spanish,  and  it  would,  no  doubt,  be  a  rare  sight  to. 
get  a  peep  at  Lord  Palmerston's-Erench  notes  to  Talleyrand.;; 


68  FATHEE  PKOTJt'S  EELIQUES. 

but  how  I  pity  the  sorry  wight  who  hasn't  learnt  Greek  ? 
What  can  he  know  of  the  recondite  meaning  of  certain 
passages  in  the  "  Groves  ?"  He  is  incapacitated  from  en- 
joying the  full  drift  of  the  ode,  and  must  only  take  it  di- 
luted, or  Velluti-ed,  in  the  common  English  version.  N6runt 
fideles,  as  Tom  Moore  says. 

Por  my  part,  I  would  as  soon  see  such  a  periwig-pated 
fellow  reading  your  last  Number,  and  fancying  himself  ca- 
pable of  understanding  the  full  scope  of  the  poet,  as  to  be- 
hold a  Greenwich  pensioner  with  a  wooden  leg  trying  to 
run  a  race  with  Atalanta  for  her  golden  apple,  or  a  fellow 
with  a  modicum  quid  of  legal  knowledge  affecting  to  sit  and 
look  big  under  a  chancellor's  peruke,  Eke  Bridlegoose  on  the 
woolsack.  In  verity,  gentlemen  of  the  lower  house  ought 
to  supplicate  Sir  Daniel  Sandford,  of  Glasgow,  to  give 
them  a  few  lectures  on  Greek,  for  the  better  inteUigenee  of 
the  real  Blarney  style  ;  and  I  doubt  not  that  every  member 
will  join  in  the  request,  except,  perhaps,  Joe  Hume,  who 
would  naturally  oppose  any  attempt  to  throw  light  on 
Greek  matters,  for  reasons  too  tedious  to  mention.  Verb, 
sap. 

To  have  collected  in  his  youthful  rambles  on  the  conti- 
nent, and  to  have  diligently  copied  in  the  several  libraries 
abroad,  these  imperishable  versions  of  an  immortal  song 
was  the  pride  and  consolation  of  !Father  Prout's  old  age, 
and  still,  by  one  of  those  singular  aberrations  of  mind  in- 
cident to  all  great  men,  he  could  never  be  prevailed  on  to 
give  further  publicity  to  the  result  of  his  labours ;  thus 
sitting  down  to  the  banquet  of  literature  with  the  egotistic 
feeling  of  a  churl.  He  would  never  listen  to  the  many 
offers  from  interested  publishers,  who  sought  for  the  prize 
with  eager  competition  ;  but  kept  the  song  in  manuscript 
on  detached  leaves,  despite  of  the  positive  injunction  of  tho 
sibyl  in  the  .^neid — 

"  Non  foliis  tu  carmina  manda, 
Ne  correpta  volent  rapidis  ludibria  ventis !" 

I  know  full  well  to  what  serious  imputations  I  make  myself 
liable,  when  I  candidly  admit  that  I  did  not  come  by  the 
treasure  lawfully  myself ;  having,  as  I  boldly  stated  in  the 
last  Number  of  Eeguta,  filched  the  precious  papers,  disjeeti 


THE   ■VTATEEGBASSHILIi   CAEOTJSAI,.  69 

membra  poetts,  wien  the  table  was  being  cleared  by  Prout'8 
servant  maid  for  the  subsequent  repast.  But  there  are 
certain  "  pious  frauds"  of  which  none  need  be  ashamed  in 
the  interests  of  science :  and  when  a  great  medal-collector, 
(of  whom  "  Tom  England"  will  tell  you  the  particulars), 
being,  on  his  homeward  voyage  from  Egypt,  hotly  pursued 
by  the  Algerines,  swallowed  the  golden  series  of  the  Ptole- 
mies, who  ever  thought  of  blaming  Mr.  Dufour,  as  he  had 
purchased  in  their  human  envelope  these  recondite  coins, 
for  having  applied  purgatives  and  emetics,  and  every  pos- 
sible stratagem,  to  come  at  the  deposit  of  glory  ? 

But  to  describe  "  the  repast"  has  now  become  my  solemn 
duty — a  task  imposed  on  me  by  you,  O  Queen !  to  whom 
nothing  relating  to  Sir  "Walter  Scott,  or  to  Father  Prout 
appears  to  be  uninteresting.  In  that  I  agree  with  you,  for 
nothing  to  my  mind  comes  recommended  so  powerfully  as 
what  hath  appertained  to  these  two  great  ornaments  of 
"humanity  ;"  which  term  I  must  be  understood  to  use  in  its 
double  sense,  as  relating  to  mankind  in  general,  and  in  par- 
ticular to  the  litei-m  Aumaniores,  of  which  you  and  I  are  rap- 
turously fond,  as  Terence  was  before  we  were  born,  according 
to  the  hackneyed  line — 

"  Homo  sum :  humani  nihil  it  me  alienum  puto !" 

That  banquet  was  in  sooth  no  ordinary  jollification,  no 
mere  bout  of  sensuality,  but  a  philosophic  and  rational  com- 
mingling of  mind,  with  a  pleasant  and  succulent  addition  of 
matter — a  blending  of  soul  and  substance,  typified  by  the 
union  of  Cupid  and  Psyche — a  compound  of  strange  ingre- 
dients, in  which  a  large  infusion  of  what  are  called  (in  a 
very  Irish-looking  phrase)  "  animal  spirits"  coalesced  with 
an  stbundance  of  distilled  ambrosia ;  not  without  much  eru- 
dite observation,  and  the  interlude  of  jovial  song ;  wit  con- 
tending for  supremacy  with  learning,  and  folly  asserting  her 
occasional  predominance  like  the  tints  of  the  rainbow  in 
their  tout  ensemble,  or  like  the  smile  and  the  tear  in  Erin's 
left  eye,  when  that  fascinating  creature  has  taken  "  a  drop" 
of  her  own  mountain  dew.  But  though  there  were  lots  of 
fiin  at  Prout's  table  at  aU  times,  which  the  lack  of  provi- 
sions never  could  interfere  with  one  w  ay  or  another,  I  have 
fapecial  reason  for  recording  in  full  the  particulars  of  this 


70  TATHEE   PBOTIT's    EELIQUES. 

carousal,  having  learned  with  indignation  that,  since  the  ap^ 
pearance  of  the  Father's  "Apology  for  Lent,"  calumny  has 
been  busy  with  his  character,  and  attributed  his  taste  for 
meagre  diet,  to  a  sordid  principle  of  economy.  No  !  Prout 
was  not  a  penurious  wretch !  And  since  it  has  been  indus- 
triously circulated  in  the  club-houses  at  the  west-end,  that 
he  never  gave  a  dinner  in  his  life,  by  the  statement  of  one 
stubborn  fact  I  must  silence  for  ever  that  "  whisper  of  a 
faction." 

From  the  first  moment  of  delight,  when  the  perusal  of 
George  Knapp's  letter,  (dated  July  25,  1825)  had  apprised 
Prout  of  the  visit  intended  by  Sir  Walter  Scott  to  the 
Blarney  stone,  he  had  predetermined  that  the  Great  Un- 
known should  partake  of  sacerdotal  hospitality.  I  recollect 
well  on  that  evening  (for  you  are  aware  I  was  then  on  a  visit 
to  my  aunt  at  "WatergrasshiU,  and,  as  luck  would  have  it, 
happened  to  be  in  the  priest's  parlour  when  the  news  came 
by  express)  how  often  he  was  heard  to  mutter  to  himself, 
as  if  resolving  the  mighty  project  of  a  "  let  out,"  in  that 
beautiful  exclamation  borrowed  from  his  favourite  Milton — 

"  What  neat  repast  shall  feast  us,  light  and  choice, 
Of  Attic  taste  with  -wiae  ?" 

I  then  foresaw  that  there  really  would  be  "  a  dinner"  and 
sure  enough  there  was  no  mistake,  for  an  entertainment  en- 
sued, such  as  the  refinement  of  a  scholar  and  the  tact  of  a 
well-informed  and  observant  traveller  naturally  and  unafiieet- 
edly  produced,  with  the  simple  but  not  less  acceptable  ma- 
terials which  circumstances  allowed  of  and  a  style  as  far 
removed  froili  the  selfishness  of  the  anchorite  as  the  extra- 
vagance of  the  glutton. 

Prout  had  seen  much  of  mankind  ;  and  in  his  deportment 
through  life  shewed  that  he  was  weU  versed  in  all  those 
varied  arts  of  easy,  but  still  gradual  acquirement,  which  sin- 
gularly embellish  the  intercourse  of  society :  these  were  the 
results  of  his  excellent  continental  education — 

TloXXciiv  d'  avS^WTTiiiv  idov  aSria,  xai  \iqov  lyvu- 

But  at  the  head  of  his  own  festive  board  he  particularly 
shone ;  for  though  in  hia  ministerial  functions,  he  was  ex- 


THE   ■WATEEGEASSHIH    CAEOfSAIi.  71 

emplary  and  admirable,  ever  meek  and  unaffected  at  the 
altar  of  his  rustic  chapel,  where 

>  "  His  looks  adorned  the  venerable  place," 

still,  surrounded  by  a  few  choice  friends,  the  calibre  of 
whose  genius  was  in  unison  with  his  own,  with  a  bottle  of 
his  choice  old  claret  before  him,  he  was  truly  a  paragon.  I 
say  claret. ;  for  when,  in  his  youthful  career  of  early  travel, 
he  had  sojourned  at  Bourdeaux  in  1776,  he  had  formed  an 
acquaintanceship  with  the  then  representatives  of  the  still 
flourishing  house  of  Maccarthy  and  Co. ;  and  if  the  prayers 
of  the  old  priest  are  of  any  avail,  that  firm  will  long  pros- 
per in  the  splendid  capital  of  Gascony.  This  long -remem- 
bered acquaintanceship  was  periodically  refreshed  by  many 
a  quarter  cask  of  excellent  medoe,  which  found  its  way  (no 
matter  how)  up  the  rugged  by-roads  of  "WatergrasshUl  to 
the  sacerdotal  cellar.  / 

Nor  was  the  barren  upland,  of  which  he  was  the  pastor 
(and  which  will  one  day  be  as  celebrated  for  having  been 
his  residence  as  it  is  now  for  water-cresses),  so  totally 
estranged  from  the  wickedness  of  the  world,  and  so  exalted 
above  the  common  level  of  Irish  highlands,  that  no  whisky 
was  to  be  found  there  ;  for  though  Prout  never  openly 
countenanced,  he  still  tolerated  Davy  Draddy's  public-house 
at  the  sign  of  the  "  Mallow  Cavalry."  But  there  is  a  spirit, 
(an  evil  one),  which  pays  no  duty  to  the  King,  under  pre- 
tence of  having  paid  it  to  her  majesty  the  Queen  (God  bless 
her!) — a  spirit  which  would  even  tempt  you,  0  Eegina! 
to  forsake  the  even  tenour  of  your  ways — a  spirit  which 
Pather  Prout  could  never  effectually  chain  down  in  the  Eed 
Sea,  where  every  foul  demon  ought  to  lie  in  durance  until 
the  vials  of  wrath  are  finally  poured  out  on  this  sinful  world 
— that  spirit,  endowed  with  a  smoky  fragrance,  as  if  to 
indicate  its  caliginous  origin — not  a  drop  of  it  would  he  give 
Sir  Walter.  He  would  have  wished,  such  was  his  anxiety 
to  protect  the  morals  of  his  parishioners  from  the  baneful 
effects  of  private  distillation,  that  what  is  called  technically 
"  mountain-dew"  were  never  heard  of  in  the  district ;  and 
that  in  this  respect  Watergrasshill  had  resembled  the  moun- 
tain of  Gilboa,  in  the  country  of  the  Philistines. 

But  of  legitimate  and  excellent  malt  whisky  he  kept  a 


72  FATHEE  PEOITT'S   EBLIQUES. 

constant  supply,  througL.  the  friendship  of  Joe  Hayes,  a 
capital  feUow,  who  presides,  with  great  credit  to  himself, 
and  to  his  native  city,  over  the  spiritual  concerns  of  the 
GUin  DistiUery.  Through  his  intelligent  superintendence, 
he  can  boast  of  maintaining  an  unextinguishable  furnace 
and  a  worm  that  never  dies ;  and  O  !  may  he  in  the  next 
life,  through  Prout's  good  prayers,  escape  both  one  and  the 
other.  This  whisky,  the  pious  offering  of  Joe  Hayes  to  his 
confessor,  Father  Prout,  was  carefully  removed  out  of 
harm's  way ;  and  even  I  myself  was  considerably  puzzled 
to  find  out  where  the  good  divine  had  the  habit  of  conceal- 
ing it,  until  I  got  the  secret  out  of  Margaret,  his  servant- 
maid,  who,  being  a  'cute  girl,  had  suggested  the  hiding-place 
herself.  I  don't  know  whether  you  recollect  my  description, 
in  your  AprD.  Number,  of  the  learned  Father's  bookcase 
and  the  folio  volumes  of  stone-flag  inscribed  "  Coenehi  a 
Lapide  Opera  qu<e  ext.  omn.  :"  weU,  behind  them  lay  hidden 
the  whisky  in  a  pair  of  jars — 

For  buxom  Maggy,  careful  soul, 

Had  two  stone  bottles  found, 
To  hold  the  liquor  that  Prout  loved, , 

And  kept  it  safe  and  sound. 

Orders  had  been  given  to  this  same  Margaret  to  kill  a 
turkey,  in  the  first  impulse  of  the  good  old  man's  mind, 
"  on  hospitable  thoughts  intent :"  but,  alas  !  when  the  fowl 
had  been  slain,  in  accordance  with  his  hasty  injunctions,  he 
bethought  himself  of  the  melancholy  fact,  that,  the  morrow 
being  Friday,  fish  diet  was  imperative,  and  that  the  death- 
warrant  of  the  turkey  had  been  a  most  premature  and  ill- 
considered  act  of  precipitancy.  The  corpus  delicti  was 
therefore  hung  up  in  the  kitchen,  to  furnish  forth  the 
Sunday's  dinner  next  ensuing,  and  his  thoughts  of  necessity 
ran  into  a  piscatory  channel.  He  had  been  angling  all  day, 
and  happily  with  considerable  success ;  so  that,  what  with 
a  large  eel  he  had  hooked  out  of  the  lake  at  Blarney,  and 
two  or  three  dozen  of  capital  trout  from  the  stream,  he 
might  emulate  the  exploit  of  that  old  Calabrian  farmer,  who 
entertained  Yirgil  on  the  produce  of  his  hives : 

"  Serilque  reverteus 
Nocte  domum,  dapibus  meusas  ouerabat  inemptis." 


THE   WATEEGBASSHILL    CAROTTSAIi.  73 

But  when  Prout  did  the  thing,  he  did  it  respectably :  this 
■was  no  ordiaary  occasion — "  pot  luck"  would  not  do  here. 
And  though  he  bitterly  deplored  the  untoward  coincidence 
of  the  fast-day  on  the  arrival  of  Sir  "Walter,  and  Was  heard 
to  mutter  somethiag  from  Horace  very  like  an  imprecation, 
viz.  "  Ille  et  nefasto  te  posuit  die,  quicumque,"  &c.  &c. ;  still 
it  would  iU  become  the  author  of  an  "  Apology  for  Lent"  to 
despair  of  getting  up  a  good  fish  dinner. 

In  this  emergency  he  summoned  Terry  Callaghan,  a  genius 
infinitely  superior  even  to  the  man-of-aU-work  at  Bavens- 
worth  Castle,  the  never-to-be-forgotten  Caleb  Balderstone. 
Terry  Callaghan  (of  whom  we  suspect  we  shall  have,  on 
many  a  future  occasion,  much  to  recount,  ere  the  star  of 
Pather  Prout  shall  eclipse  itselfiu  the  firmament  of  Eegika), 
Terry  Callaghan  is  a  character  weU.  known  in  the  Arcadian 
neighbourhood  of  WatergrasshiU,  the  life  and  soul  of  the 
village  itself,  where  he  oflciates  to  this  day  as  "  pound- 
keeper,"  "  grave-digger,"  "  notary  public,"  and  "  parish 
piper."  In  addition  to  these  situations  of  trust  and  emolu- 
ment, he  occasionally  stands  as  deputy  at  the  turnpike  on 
the  mail-coach  road,  where  he  was  last  seen  with  a  short 
pipe  in  his  mouth,  and  a  huge  black  crape  round  his  "  cau- 
been,"  being  iu  mourniag  for  the  subject  of  these  memoirs. 
He  also  is  employed  on  Sundays  at  the  chapel-door  to  collect 
the  coppers  of  the  faithful,  and,  like  the  dragon  of  the 
Hesperides,  keeps  watch  over  the  "  box  "  with  untameable 
fierceness,  never  having  allowed  a  rap  to  be  subtracted  for 
the  O'Connell  tribute,  or  any  other  humbug,  to  the  great 
pecuniary  detriment  of  the  Derrynane  dynasty.  In  the 
palace  at  Iveragh,  where  a  geographical  chart  is  displayed 
on  the  wail,  shewing  at  a  glance  the  topography  of  the 
"  rint,"  and  exhibiting  aU  those  districts,  from  Dan  to  Beer- 
sheba,  where  the  copper-mines  are  most  productive,  the 
parish  of  Watergrasshill  is  marked  "  all  barren ;"  Terry  very 
properly  considering  that,  if  there  was  any  surplus  in.  the 
poor-box,  it  could  be  better  placed,  without  going  out  of  the 
precincts  of  that  wild  and  impoverished  tract,  in  the  palm  of 
squalid  misery,  than  in  the  all-absorbing  Charybdis,  the 
breeches-pocket  of  our  glorious  Dan. 

Such  was  the  "  Mercury  new-lighted  on  a  heaven-kissing 
hiJl,"  to  whom  Prout  delivered  hie  provisional  orders  for  the 


74  FATHEB  PEODt's   EELIQtTBS. 

market  of  Cork ;  and  early,  with  a  hamper  on  his  back,  at 
the  dawn  of  that  important  day  which  settled  into  so  glori- 
ous an  evening  of  fun  and  conviviality,  Terry  set  off  to  lay 
the  foundation  of  the  whole  affair  at  the  fish-staU  kept  by 
that  celebrated  iarrie  de  la  Mile,  the  widow  Desmond.  Pur- 
suant to  directions,  he  bought  a  turbot,  two  lobsters,  a  sal- 
mon, and  a  hake,  with  a  hundred  of  Cork-harbour  oysters  ; 
and  considering,  prudently,  that  a  corps  de  reserve  might  be 
wanted  in  the  course  of  the  repast,  he  added  to  the  afore- 
said matters,  which  Prout  had  himself  specified,  a  hors 
d'oeuvre  of  his  own  selection,  viz.  a  keg  of  cod-sounds ;  he 
having  observed  that  on  aU  state  occasions,  when  Prout 
entertained  his  bishop,  he  had  always,  to  suit  his  lordship's 
taste,  a  plat  ohligi  of  cod-sounds,  "by  particular  desire." 

At  the  same  time  he  was  commissioned  to  deliver  sundry 
notes. of  invitation  to  certain  choice  spirits,  who  try  to  keep 
in  wholesome  agitation,  by  the  buoyancy  of  their  wit  and 
hilarity,  the  otherwise  stagnant  pond  of  Corkonian  society ; 
citizens  of  varied  humour  and  diversified  accomplishments, 
but  of  whom  the  highest  praise  and  the  most  comprehensive 
eulogy  cannot  convey  more  to  the  Britisli  public  than  the 
simple  intimation  of  their  having  been  "  the  friends  of  Pather 
Prout :"  for  while  Job's  Arabian  "  friends  "  will  be  remem- 
bered only  as  objects  of  abhorrence,  Prout's  associates  wUl 
be  cherished  by  the  latest  posterity.  These  were,  Jack  Bel- 
lew,  Dan  Corbet,  Dick  Dowden,  Bob  Olden,  and  Priar 
O'Meara. 

Among  these  illustrious  names,  to  be  henceforth  embalmed 
in  the  choicest  perfume  of  classic  recollection,  you  wiU.  find 
on  inquiry,  O  Queen  !  men  of  all  parties  and  religious  per- 
suasions, men  of  every  way  of  thinking  in  politics  and  po- 
lemics, but  who  merged  all  their  individual  feelings  in  the 
broad  expanse  of  one  common  phHanthropy ;  for  at  Prout's 
table  the  serene  horizon  of  the  festive  board  was  never 
clouded  by  the  suffusion  of  controversy's  gloomy  vapours, 
or  the  mephitic  feuds  of  party  condition.  And,  O  most 
peace-loving  Eegista  !  should  it  ever  suit  your  fancy  to  go 
on  a  trip  to  Ireland,  be  on  your  guard  against  the  foul  and 
troublesome  nuisance  of  Speech-makers  and  political  oracles, 
of  whatever  class,  who  infest  that  otherwise  happy  island : 
betake  thyself  to  the  hospitable  home  of  Dan  Corbet,  or 


THE   "VrATEEGEASSHILL   CAEOrSAL.  75 

Bome  such  good  and  rational  circle  of  Irish  society,  where 
never  will  a  single  drop  of  acrimony  be  found  to  mingle  in 
the  disembosomings  of  feehug  and  the  perennial  flow  of 
soul — 

"  Sic  tibi  ciim  fluotus  prseterlabere  SioauOB, 
Doris  amara  suam  non  mtermisceat  imdaui !" 

But,  in  describing  Front's  guests,  rant  and  precedency 
belong  of  right  to  that  great  modern  ruler  of  mankind,  "the 
Press ;"  and  therefore  do  we  first  apply  ourselTes  to  the  de- 
lineation of  the  merits  of  Jack  Bellew,  its  significant  repre- 
sentative— he  being  the  wondrous  editor  of  that  most  accom- 
plished newspaper,  the  "  Cork  Chronicle." 

Jack  MontesquieuBenew'((fMa'rt  honoris  camd nomifw)  was^ 
I  say  was,  for,  alas  !  he  too  is  no  more  :  Front's  death  was  too 
much  for  him  'twas  a  blow  from  which  he  never  recovered ; 
and  since  then  he  was  visibly  so  heart-broken  at  the  loss 
o£  his  friend,  that  he  did  nothing  but  droop,  and  soon 
died  of  what  the  doctor  said  was  a  decline ;) — Jack  was  the 
very  image  of  his  own  "  Chronicle,"  and,  vice  versd,  the 
"  Chronicle  "  was  the  faithful  mirror  (siJiwXov,  or  alter  ego)  of 
Jack :  both  One  and  the  other  were  tb6  queerest  concerns 
in  the  south  of  Ireland.  The  post  of  editor  to  a  country 
newspaper  is  one,  generally  speaking,  attended  with  sundry 
troubles  and  tribulations ;  for  even  the  simple  department 
of  "  deaths,  births,  and  marriages,"  would  require  a  host  of 
talent  and  a  superhuman  tact  to  satisfy  the  vanity  of  the 
subscribers,  without  making  them  ridiculous  to  their  next 
neighbours.  Wow  Bellew  didn't  care  a  jot  who  came  into 
the  world  or  who  left  it ;  and  thus  he  made  no  enemies  by 
a  too  niggardly  panegyric  of  their  kindred  and  deceased 
relations.  There  was  an  exception,  however,  in  favour  of  an 
old  subscriber  to  the  "  paper,"  whose  death  was  usually 

'  How  the  surname  of  the  illustrious  author  of  the  Esprit  de  Lois, 
came  to  be  used  by  the  Bellews  in  Ireland!  has  puzzled  the  Heralds' 
College.  Indeed,  many  other  Irish  names  offer  a  wide  field  for  genea- 
logical inquiry :  e.  g.  Sir  Hercules  Langhrish,  Casar  Otway,  Eneas  Mac- 
DonneU,  Hannibal  Hunkett,  Ebenezer  Jacob,  Jonah  Barringtou  (this 
last  looks  very  like  a  whale).  That  the  Bellews  dealt  largely  in  spirits, 
appears  to  be  capable  of  proof:  at  any  rate,  there  was  never  any  pro- 
pensity for  V esprit  des  lois,  whatever  might  be  the  penchant  for  unlawful 
spirit,  at  the  family  mansion  Knock  an  isqueiu — Jngliob  Mount  Whisky, 
Gallic^  Montesquieu. 


76  FATHEE  PEOn'S   EBLIQUES. 

commemorated  by  a  rim  of  mourning  at  the  edges  of  the 
"  Chronicle  :"  and  it  was  particularly  when  the  subscription 
had  not  been  paid  (which,  indeed,  was  generally  the  case) 
that  the  emblems  of  sorrow  were  conspicuous — so  much  so, 
that  you  could  easily  guess  at  the  amount  of  the  arrears 
actually  due,  from  the  proportionate  breadth  of  the  black 
border,  which  in  some  instances  was  prodigious.  But  Jack's 
attention  was  principally  turned  to  the  affairs  of  the  Conti- 
nent, and  he  kept  an  eye  on  Eussia,  an  eye  of  vigilant  obser- 
vation, which  considerably  annoyed  the  czar.  In  vain  did 
Pozzo  di  Borgo  endeavour  to  silence,  or  purchase,  or  intimi- 
date Bellew ;  he  was  to  the  last  an  uncompromising  op- 
ponent of  the  "  miscreant  of  the  North."  The  opening  of  the 
trade  to  China  was  a  favourite  measure  with  our  editor ;  for 
he  often  complained  of  the  bad  tea  sold  at  the  sign  of  the 
"Elephant,"  on  the  Parade.  He  took  part  with  Don  Pedro 
against  the  Serene  Infanta  Don  Miguel ;  but  that  was  attri- 
buted to  a  sort  of  Platonic  he  felt  for  the  fascinating  Donna 
Maria  da  Gloria.  As  to  the  great  question  of  repale,  he  was 
too  sharp  not  to  see  the  fuU  absurdity  of  that  brazen  im- 
posture. He  endeavoured,  however,  to  suggest  a  "juste  mil- 
lieu,"  a  "medium  terminus,"  between  the  politicians  of  the 
Chamber  of  Commerce  and  the  common-sense  portion  of  the 
Cork  community;  and  his  plan  was, — to  hold  an  imperial  parlia- 
ment for  the  three  kingdoms  on  the  Isle  of  Man  !  But  he  failed  in 
procuring  the  adoption  of  his  conciliatory  sentiments.  Most 
Irish  provincial  papers  keep  a  London  "private  corres- 
pondent " — some  poor  devil,  who  writes  from  a  blind  alley 
in  St.  Giles's,  with  the  most  graphic  minuteness,  and  a  truly 
laughable  hatred  of  mystery,  aU  about  matters  occurring  at 
the  cabinet  meetings  of  Downing  Street,  or  in  the  most  im- 
penetrable circles  of  diplomacy.  Jack  despised  such  fudge, 
became  his  own  "  London  private  correspondent,"  and  ad- 
dressed to  himself  long  communications  dated  from  "White- 
hall. The  most  useful  intelligence  was  generally  found  in 
this  epistolary  form  of  soliloquy.  But  in  the  "  fashionable 
world,"  and  "  News  from  the  beaumonde,"  the  "  Chronicle" 
was  unrivalled.  The  latest  and  most  rechereM  modes,  the 
newest  Parisian  fashions,  were  carefully  described ;  not- 
withstanding which.  Jack  himself,  like  Diogenes  or  Sir 
Charles  "Wetherell,  went  about  in  a  most  ragged  habiliment. 


THE   "WATBEGEASSHILIi   CAEOXTSAI;.  77 

To  speak  with  Shakspeare,  though  not  well  dressed  himself- 
he  was  the  cause  of  dress  in  others.  His  finances,  alas' 
were  always  miserably  low  ;  no  fitting  retribution  was  ever 
the  re^sult  of  his  literary  labours ;  and  of  him  might  be 
said  wliat  we  read  in  a  splendid  fragment  of  Petronius 
Arbiter, —  • 

"  Sola  pruinosis  liorret  facundia  pannis, 
Atque  inopi  lingutt  disertaa  invocat  artes !" 

Such  was  BeUew ;  and  next  to  him  of  political  importance 
in  public  estimation  was  the  celebrated  Dick  Dowden,  the 
great  iaventor  of  the  "  pyroligneous  acid  for  curing  bacon." 
He  was  at  one  time  the  deservedly  popular  librarian  of  the 
Eoyal  Cork  Institution ;  but  siace  then  he  has  risen  to 
eminence  as  the  greatest  soda-water  manufacturer  in  the 
south  of  Ireland,  and  has  been  unanimously  chosen  by  the 
sober  and  reflecting  portion  of  his  fellow-citizens  to  be  the 
perpetual  president  of  the  "  Cork  Temperance  Society."  He 
is  a  Presbyterian — but  I  believe  I  have  already  said  he  was 
concerned  in  vinegar.*  He  is  a  great  admirer  of  Dr.  Bow- 
ring,  and  of  the  Eajah  Rammohun  Eoy ;  and  some  think 
him  incliaed  to  favour  the  new  Utilitarian  philosophy.  But 
why  do  I  spend  my  time  in  depicting  a  man  so  well  known 
as  Dick  Dowden  ?  Who  has  not  heard  of  Dick  Dowden  ? 
I  pity  the  wretch  to  whom  his  name  and  merits  are  un- 
known ;  for  he  argues  himself  a  dunce  that  knows  not  Dow- 
den, and  deserves  the  anathema  pronounced  by  Groldsmith 
against  his  enemies, — 

"  To  eat  mutton  cold,  and  out  blocts  with  a  razor !" 

Talking  of  razors,  the  transition  to  our  third  guest,  Bob 
Olden  is  most  smooth  and  natural — Olden,  the  great  inven- 
tor of  the  wonderful  shaving-lather,  caUed  by  the  Greeks  Eu- 
KEiBOGENEioif  (Euxiipoj'ivmv)  ! — Olden,  the  reproducer  of  an 
Athenian  cosmetic,  and  the  grand  discoverer  of  the  patent 
" Trotter- oU,"  for  the  growth  of  the  human  hair;  a  citizen 
of  infinite  worth  and  practical  usefulness  ;  a  high  church- 
man eke  was  he,  and  a  Tory  ;  but  his  "  conservative"  excel- 
lence was  chiefly  applicable  to  the  epidermis  of  the  chin, 
which  he  effectually  preserved  by  the  incomparable  lather  of 

*  "  A  Quaker,  sly ;  a  Presbyterian,  sour." — Popb 


78  TATHEE  PBOTTT'S   EELIQrES. 

his  Euxsi^oyemiov ;  an  invention  that  would,  to  use  the  words 
of  a  Cork  poet, 

"  Bid  even  a  Jew  bid  adieu  to  his  beard." 

But  Dan  Corbet,  the  third  guest,  was  a  real  trump,  the 
very  quintessence  of  fun  and  frolic,  and  of  all  Prout's  friends 
the  one  of  whom  he  was  most  particularly  proud.  He  is  the 
principal  dentist  of  the  Munster  district — a  province  where 
a  tooth-ache  is  much  rarer,  unfortunately  for  dentists,  than  a 
broken  head  or  a  black  eye.  In  Corbet,  the  kindliest  of  human 
beings,  and  sincerest  of  Corkonians,  the  buttermilk  of  human 
friendliness  was  ever  found  in  plentiful  exuberance  ;  while 
the  loud  laugh  and  the  jocund  song  bespoke  the  candour  of  his 
soul.  Never  was  a  professor  of  odontology  less  pedaaitic  or 
less  given  to  quackery.  His  ante-chamber  was  always  full  of 
patients,  awaiting  his  presence  with  pleasurable  anticipation 
and  some  were  known  to  feign  a  tooth^ach©,  in  order  to 
have  a  pleasant  interview  with  the  dentist.  When  he  made 
Ms  appearance  in  his  morning  gown  before  the  crowd  of 
afflicted  visitors,  a  general  titter  of  cheerfulness  enlivened  the 
visages  of  the  sufferers ;  and  I  can  only  compare  the  effect 
produced  by  his  presence  to  the  welcome  of  Scarron  on  the 
banks  of  the  Styx,  when  that  man  of  wondrous  hilarity 
went  down  to  the  region  of  the  ghosts  as  a  dispeUer  of 
sorrow : 

"  Solvuntur  risu  moestissima  turba  silentum, 
Ciim  Tenit  ad  Stygias  Searro  facetus  aquas." 

I  have  only  one  thing  to  say  against  Corbet.  At  his  hos- 
pitable table,  where,  without  extravagance,  every  good  dish 
is  to  be  found,  a  dessert  generally  follows  remarkable  for  the 
quantity  and  iron-hardness  of  the  walnuts,  whUe  not  a  nut- 
cracker can  be  had  for  love  or  money  from  any  of  the  ser- 
vants. Now  this  is  too  bad  :  for,  you  must  know,  that  next 
morning  most  of  the  previous  guests  reappear  in  the  charac- 
ter of  patients ;  and  the  nuts  (like  the  dragon-teeth  sown 
in  a  field  by  Cadmus)  produce  a  harvest  of  lucrative  visitors 
to  the  cabinet  of  the  professor.  Ought  not  this  system  to 
be  abolished,  O  Queen !  and  is  it  any  justification  or  pallia- 
tion of  such  an  enormity  to  know  that  the  bane  and  anti- 
dote are  both  before  one  S    When  I  spoke  of  it  to  Corbet, 


THE    WATEEGBASSHILL   CABOTJSAl.  79 

ne  only  smiled  at  my  simplicity,  and  quoted  the  precedent 
m  Horace,  (for  he  is  a  good  classic  scholar), 

"  Et  nux  omabat  menBam,  cmn  duplice  fiou." 

Lib.  ii.  sat.  2. 

But  I  immediately  poiated  out  to  him,  that  he  reversed  the 
practice  of  the  Eomans ;  for,  instead  of  the  figs  being  in 
double  ratio  to  the  nuts,  it  was  the  latter  with  him  that  pre- 
dominated in  quantity,  besides  being  pre-eminently  hard 
when  submitted  to  the  double  action  of  that  delicate  lever 
the  human  jaw,  which  nature  never  (except  in  some  in- 
stances, and  these  more  apparent,  perhaps,  in  the  conform- 
ation of  the  nose  and  chin)  intended  for  a  nut-cracker. 

Of  Friar  O'Meara  there  is  little  to  be  said.  Prout  did 
not  think  much  of  friars  in  general ;  indeed,  at  all  times 
the  working  parochial  clergy  in  Ireland  have  looked  on  them 
as  a  kind  of  undisciplineij.  Cossacks  in  the  service  of  the 
church  militant,  of  whom  it  cannot  conveniently  get  rid, 
but  who  are  much  better  adepts  in  sharing  the  plunder  than 
in  labouring  to  earn  it.  The  good  father  often  explained 
to  me  how  the  matter  stood,  and  how  the  bishop  wanted  to 
regulate  these  friars,  and  make  them  work  for  the  instruc- 
tion of  the  poor,  instead  of  their  present  lazy  life  ;  but  they 
were  a  match  for  him  at  Eome,  where  none  dare  whisper  a 
word  against  one  of  the  fraternity  of  the  cowl.  There  are 
some  papers  in  the  Prout  collection  on  this  subject,  which 
(when  you  get  the  chest)  will  explain  all  to  you.  O'Meara 
(who  was  not  the  "  Voice  from  St.  Helena,"  though  he  some- 
times passed  for  that  gentleman  on  the  Continent)  was  a 
pleasant  sort  of  fellow,  not  very  deep  in  divinity  or  black- 
lettered  knowledge  of  any  kind,  but  conversable  and  chatty, 
having  frequently  accompanied  yovmg  'squires,  as  travelling 
tutor  to  Italy,  much  in  the  style  of  those  learned  function- 
aries who  lead  a  dancing-bear  through  the  market-towns  of 
England.  There  was  no  dinner  within  seven  miles  of  Cork 
without  O'Meara,  PuU  soon  would  his  keen  nostril,  ever 
upturned,  (as  Milton  sayeth)  into  the  murky  air,  have 
snuffed  the  scent  of  culinary  preparation  in  the  breeze  that 
came  from  "WatergrasshiU  :  therefore  it  was  that  Prout  sent 
him  a  note  of  invitation,  knowing  he  would  come,  whether 
or  no. 


80  FATHEH  PEOITt's   EELIQrES. 

Such  were  the  guests  who,  with  George  Knapp  and  my- 
self, formed  the  number  of  the  elect  to  dine  with  Sir  "Wal- 
ter at  the  father's  humble  board ;  and  when  the  covers  were 
removed  (grace  having  been  said  by  Prout  in  a  style  that 
would  have  rejoiced  the  sentimental  Sterne)  a  glorious  vision 
of  fish  was  unfolded  to  the  raptured  sight ;  and  I  confess  I 
did  not  much  regret  the  absence  of  the  turkey,  whose  plump 
carcass  I  could  get  an  occasional  glimpse  of,  hanging  from 
the  roof  of  the  kitchen.  "We  ate,  and  confabulated  as  fol- 
lows : — 

"I  don't  approve,"  said  Bob  01den,"of Homer's  ideas  as 
to  a  social  entertainment :  he  does  not  let  his  heroes  converse 
rationally  until  long  after  they  have  set  down  to  table,  or, 
as  Pope  vulgarly  translates  it, 

"  Soon  as  the  rage  of  hunger  is  repressed." 

Now  I  think  that  a  very  gross  way  of  proceeding." 

o'meaea. 

In  our  convent  we  certainly  keep  up  the  observance,  such 
as  Pope  has  it.  The  repast  is  divided  into  three  distinct  pe- 
riods ;  and  in  the  conventual  refectory  you  can  easily  dis- 
tinguish at  what  stage  of  the  feeding  time  the  brotherhood 
are  engaged.  The  first  is  called,  1°,  altum  silentium  ;  then, 
2°,  clangor  dentium ;  then,  3°  ruvior  gentium. 

COEBET. 

I  protest  against  the  personal  allusion  contained  in  that 
second  item.     Tou  are  always  making  mischief,  O'Meara. 

BELLEW. 

I  hope  that  when  the  friars  talk  of  the  news  of  the  day, 
— for  such,  I  suppose,  is  the  meaning  of  rumor  gentium — 
they  previously  have  read  the  private  London  correspond- 
ence of  the  "  Cork  Chronicle." 

PEOTJT. 

Sir  "Walter,  perhaps  you  would  wish  to  begin  with  a  fresh 
egg,  ab  ovo,  as    Horace   recommends;    or  perhaps  you'd 


THE   ■WATEEaEA.SSHIIiL    OABOXTSAL.  81 

prefer  the  order  described  by  Pliny,  in  Ms  letter  to  Septi- 
mius,  1°,  a  radish  ;  2°,  three  snails ;  and  3°,  two  eggs*  or 
oysters  ad  libitum,  aa  laid  down  by  Macrobius.f 

SCOTT. 

Thank  you,  I  can  manage  with  this  slice  of  salmon-trout. 
I  can  relish  the  opinion  of  that  great  ornament  of  your 
chiirch,  Thomas  k  Kempis,  to  whose  taste  nothing  was  more 
delicious  than  a  salmon,  always  excepting  the  Psalms  of 
David/  as  he  properly  says,  JIfeAi  Psalmi  Bavidici  sapiunt 
salmones  .'f 

PEOTTT. 

That  was  not  a  bad  idea  of  Tom  Kempis.  But  my  fa- 
vourite author,  St.  Chrysostom,  surpasses  him  in  wit.  "When 
talking  of  the  sermon  on  the  Lake  of  Tiberias,  he  marvels 
atthe  siagularpositionof  the  auditory  relative  to  thepreacher: 
his  words  are,  Aimv  kaf/^a,  o'l  /%^us5  ivi  rriv  yf{t,  xai  6  aXnvs 
IV  BaXarrfi !  Serm.  de  Nov.  et  Vet.  Test. 

o'meaea. 

That  is  a  capital  turbot,  O  Prout !  and,  instead  of  talk- 
ing Greek  and  quoting  old  Chrysostom  (the  saint  with  the 
golden  mouth),  you  ought  to  be  helping  Jack  BeUew  and 
George  Knapp. — What  sauce  is  that  ? 

PE0T7T. 

The  senate  of  Eome  decided  the  sauce  long  ago,  by  order 

*  Tide  Plin.  Ep.  ad  Septim,  where  he  acquaints  us  with  the  proper 
manner  of  oommenoing  operations.  His  words  are,  "  Lactucas  singulas, 
cochleaa  tres,  ova  bina."     Our  cockle  and  the  French  word  cuiller,  a 
spoon,  are  derived  from  the  Latia  cochleare  ;  of  which  cochlea  (a  snail 
or  periwinile)  is  the  root.    Thus  we  read  in  Martial — 
"  Sum  coohleis  habUis,  sed  nee  magis  utilis  ovis ; 
Numquid  scis  potius  our  cochleare  vocer  ?" 
t  In  the  third  book  of  his  "  Saturnalia,"  Macrobius,  describing  the 
feast  given  by  the  Plamen  lentulus  to  the  Koman  people  on  his  instal- 
lation to  office,  praises  the  host's  generosity,  inasmuch  as  he  opened  the 
banquet  by  providing  as  a  whet  "  ostreas  crudaa  quantitm  quiaque  vellet." 
t  See  the  Elzevir  edition  of  Thorn,  a  Kempis,  in  vitd,  p.  246. 

a 


82  TATHEB  PEOTTT'S   EEMQTIES. 

of  Domitiaa,  as  Juyenal  might  tell  you,  or  even  the  French 
translation — 

"  Le  Benat  mit  aux  voii  cette  afiPaire  importaute, 
Et  le  torbot  fiit  mis  a  la  sauce  piguanle," 

ESTAPP. 

Sir  "Walter  !  as  it  haa  been  my  distinguished  lot — a  cir- 
cumstance that  confers  everlasting  glory  on  my  mayoralty — 
to  have  had  the  honour  of  presenting  you  yesterday  with 
the  freedom  of  the  corporation  of  Cork,  allovsr  me  to  pre- 
sent you  with  our  next  best  thing,  a  potato. 

SCOTT. 

I  have  received  with  pride  the  municipal  franchise,  and  I 
now  accept  with  equal  gratitude  the  more  substantial  gift 
you  have  handed  me,  ia  this  capital  esculent  of  your  happy 
country. 

PEOTJT. 

Our  round  towers,  Sir  Walter,  came  from  the  east,  as 
will  be  one  day  proved ;  but  our  potatoes  came  from  the 
west ;  Persia  sent  us  the  one,  and  Virginia  the  other.  We 
are  a  glorious  people  !  The  two  hemispheres  mioister  to  our 
historic  recollections  ;  and  if  we  look  back  on  our  annals, 
we  get  drunk  with  glory ; 

"  For  when  hist'ry  begins  to  grow  dull  in  the  east, 
We  may  order  our  wings,  and  be  off  to  the  west." 

May  I  have  the  pleasure  of  wine  vrith  you  ?     Gentlemen, 
fill  all  round. 

SCOTT. 

I  iatend  vrriting  a  somewhat  in  which  Sir  Walter  Ealeigh 
shall  te  a  distinguished  and  prominent  character ;  and  I 
promise  you  the  potato  shall  not  be  forgotten.  The  discovery 
of  that  root  is  alone  sufficient  to  immortalize  the  hero  who 
lost  his  head  so  unjustly  on  Tower  Hill. 

KNAPP. 

Christopher  Columbus  was  equally  ill-treated :  and  nfii- 


THE   WATEEGEASSHILL   CAEOTTSAIi.  83 

thei"  he  nor  Ealeigh  have  even  given  their  name  to  the  ob- 
jects they  discovered.  Great  men  have  never  obtained 
justice  from  their  contemporaries. — I'll  trouble  you  for 
gome  of  the  fins  of  that  turbot,  Prout. 

KtOTJT. 

Nay,  further,  without  going  beyond  the  circle  of  this 
festive  board,  why  has  not  Europe  and  the  world  united  to 
confer  some  signs^l  distinction  on  the  useful  inventor  of 
"  PyroUgneous  Acid  ?"  Why  is  not  the  discoverer  of  "  Trotter 
oil"  and  "  Eukeirogeneion"  fittingly  rewarded  by  mankind? 
Because  men  have  narrow  views,  and  prefer  erecting  columns 
to  Spring  Rice,  and  to  Bob  "Waithman  who  sold  shawls  in 
Pleet  Street. — Let  me  recommend  some  lobster-sauce. 

COEBET. 

Minerva,  who  first  extracted  oil  from  the  olive,  was  deified 
in  Greece ;  and  Olden  is  not  yet  even  a  member  of  the 
dullest  scientific  body  ;  while  Dr.  Lardner  belongs  to  them 
all,  if  I  can  understand  the  phalanx  of  letters  that  foUows 
his  name. 

KNAPP. 

I  have  read  the  utilitarian  Doctor's  learned  treatise  on 
the  potato — a  subject  of  which  he  seems  to  understand  the 
chemical  manipulation.  He  says,  very  justly,  that  as  the 
root  contains  saccharine  matter,  sugar  may  be  extracted 
therefrom  ;  he  is  not  sure  whether  it  might  not  be  distilled 
into  whisky  ;  but  he  is  certain  that  it  makes  capital  starch, 
and  triumphantly  shews  that  the  rind  can  feed  pigs,  and 
the  stalk  thatch  the  pigsty.  O  most  wonderful  Doctor 
Lardner !  Here's  his  health  !  Anvugios ! — not  a  bad  intro- 
duction to  a  bumper  of  claret.     ^Three  times  three.'] 

PEOTJT. 

I  too  have  turned  my  thoughts  into  that  channel,  and 
among  my  papers  there  is  a  treatise  on  "  the  root."  I  have 
prefixed  to  my  dissertation  this  epigraph  from  Cicero's 
speech  "  pro  ArchiS.  Poeta,"  where  the  Eoman  orator  talks 
of  the  belles  lettries ;  but  I  apply  the  words  much  more 
literally  —  I  hate  nietaphor  in  practical  matters  such  as 

a  2 


84  PATHEE  PEOTJT'S   EELIQtTES. 

these :  "  They  are  the  food  of  our  youth,  the  sustenance  of 
our  old  age  ;  they  are  delightful  at  home,  and  by  no  means 
in  one's  way  abroad ;  they  cause  neither  nightmare  nor  in- 
digestion, but  are  capital  things  on  a  journey,  or  to  fiU  the 
waUet  of  a  pilgrim."  "  Adolescentiam  alunt,  senectutem 
oblectant ;  delectant  domi,  non  impediunt  foris  ;  pemoctant 
nobiscum,  peregrinantur,  rusticantur."  So  much  for  pota- 
toes. But  there  are  other  excellent  natural  productions 
in  our  island,  which  are  also  duly  celebrated  in  my  papers, 
and  possibly  may  be  published ;  but  not  tUl  I  am  gathered 
to  the  grave.  I  have  never  forgotten  the  interests  of  pos- 
terity.— Pass  that  decanter. 

SCOTT. 

Talking  of  the  productions  of  the  soil,  I  cannot  reconcile 
the  antiquity,  the  incontestable  antiquity,  of  the  lyric  ode 
called  the  "  Groves  of  Blarney,"  of  which  before  dinner 
we  have  traced  the  remote  origin,  and  examined  so  many 
varied  editions  with  a  book  of  more  modern  date,  'called 
"  Csesar's  Commentaries."  The  beech  tree,  Caesar  says, 
does  not  grow  in  these  islands,  or  did  not  in  his  time :  All 
trees  grow  there,  he  asserts,  the  same  as  in  Gaul,  except  the 
lime-toee  and  the  beech — "  Materia  ferd  eadem  ac  in  Gallic, 
-praiier  fagum  et  abietem."  (Cms.  de  Bella  Gallico,  Ub.  v.) 
Now  in  the  song,  which  is  infinitely  older  than  Caesar,  we 
have  mention  made,  "  besides  the  leeches,"  of  certaia 
"groves  of  beeches," — the  text  is  positive. 

KNAPP. 

That  observation  escaped  me  totally ;  and  still  the  differ- 
ent versions  aU  concur  in  the  same  assertion.  The  Latin  or 
Vulgate  codex  says — 

"  Gbande  decus  pagi 
riuvii  stant  margine  PAGI." 

The  Greek  or  Septuagint  version  is  equally  stubborn  in 
making  out  the  case — 

'igrocf/tiviav  xai  i/Xti 


THE  WATEEGBASSHII-l   CABOTJSAIi.  85 

And  the  'French  copy,  taken  from  Doomsday  Book,  is  con- 
clusive, and  a  complete  poser — 

"Sue  oes  borda  ohamptoes 
On  a  plante  des  hetees," 

I  am  afraid  Caesar's  reputation  for  accuracy  wiU  be  greatly 
shaken  by  this  discovery ;  he  is  a  passable  authority  in  mili- 
tary tactics,  but  not  in  natural  history :  give  me  Pliny ! — 
This  trout  is  excellent ! 

OLDEW, 

I  think  the  two  great  authors  at  issue  on  this  beech-tree 
business  can  be  conciliated  thus;  let  us  say,  thatby  the  Greek 
^ijym,  and  the  Latin  faffi,  nothing  more  is  meant  than 
the  clan  the  O'Fagans,  who  are  very  thickly  planted  here- 
abouts. They  are  still  a  hungry  race,  as  their  name  Pagan 
indicates —  a-ro  tov  fiayiiv. 

PEOTTT. 

It  must  have  been  one  of  that  family  who,  in  the  reign  of 
Aurelius,  distinguished  himself  by  his  great  appetite  at  the 
imperial  court  of  Eome.  Thus  Berchous  sings,  on  the  au- 
thority of  Suetonius : 

"  Phagon  fat  en  ce  genre  uu  homme  extraordinaire ; 
II  avait  I'estomao  (grands  Dieux !)  d'un  dromadaire : 
H  faisait  disparaitre,  en  ses  rarea  featins, 
Vn  pore,  tm  stmglier,  im  mouton,  et  cent  pains  !  / .'" 

o'meaea. 
That's  what  we  at  Paris  used  to  call  pain  h  discretion. — 
Margaret,  open  some  oysters,  and  get  the  cayenne  pepper. 

BELLBW. 

I  protest  I  don't  like  to  see  the  OTagans  run  down — my 
aunt  was  an  O'Pagan ;  and  as  to  deriving  the  name  from  the 
Greek  am  rov  (paynv,  I  think  it  a  most  gratuitous  assumption, 

KNAPP. 

I  agree  vfith  my  worthy  friend  BeUew  as  to  the  impro- 
priety of  harping  upon  names.  One  would  think  the  mayor 
of  Cork  ought  to  obtain  some  respect,  and  be  spared  the 
infliction  of  the  waggery  of  his  fellow-townsmen.  But  no  ; 
because  I  clear  the  city  of  mad  dogs,  and  keep  hydrophobia 


86  TATHEE  PEOUT'S  EBLIQUES. 

far  from  our  walls,  I  am  called  the  "  dog-  (I  had  almost  said 
kid-)  Knapper  !"  Now,  my  family  is  of  German  extraction, 
and  my  great-grandfather  served  under  the  gallant  Dutch- 
man in  his  wars  with  the  "  Grande  Monarque,"  before  he 
came  over  vrith  WiUiam  to  deliver  this  country  from  slavery 
and  wooden  shoes.  It  was  my  great-grand-father  who  in- 
vented that  part  of  a  soldier's  accoutrement,  called,  after 
him,  a  "  Knapp's  sack." 

COEBET. 

I  hope,  Sir  "Walter,  you  wiU  not  leave  Cork  without  din- 
ing at  the  mansion-house  with  our  worthy  mayor.  Palstaff 
himself  could  not  find  fault  with  the  excellent  flavour  of 
Knapp's  sack. 

SOOTT. 

I  fear  I  shall  not  be  able  to  postpone  my  departure ;  but 
as  we  are  on  this  subject  of  names,  I  have  to  observe,  that 
it  is  an  old  habit  of  the  vulgar  to  take  liberty  with  the 
syllables  of  a  great  man's  patronymic.  Melancthon  *  was 
forced  to  clothe  his  name  in  Greek  to  escape  their  aUuaions ; 
Jules  de  I'EcheUe  changed  his  into  ScaUger ;  Pat  Lardner 
has  become  Dionysius ;  and  the  great  author  of  those  im- 
mortal letters,  which  he  has  taken  care  to  tell  us  will  be  read 
when  the  commentaries  of  Cornelius  k  Lapide  are  forgotten, 
gave  no  name  at  all  to  the  world — 

"  Stat  nominis  umbra !" 
PEOTJT. 

Poor  Erasmus !  how  he  used  to  be  badgered  about  hia 
cognomen — 

"  Quserjtur  unde  tibi  sit  nomen,  Eeasmtjs  ? — Eras  Mus  !" 

for  even  so  that  a,rch  wag,  the  Chancellor  Sir  Thomas  More, 
addressed  him.  But  his  reply  is  on  record,  and  his  penta- 
meter beats  the  Chancellor's  hexameter — 

"  Si  mim  Mua  ego,  tejudiee  Summus  ero!" 

•  The  real  name  of  Melancthon  was  PhiJipp  Sohwartzerd(®c]^ajor|ej:b), 
which  means  blaci  earth,  and  is  most  happily  rendered  into  Greek  by 
the  term  Melancthon,  MeXaiva  ■yBinv.  Thus  sought  he  to  escape  the 
Tulgar  conundrums  which  his  name  in  the  vemacular  German  could 
not  fail  to  elicit.    A  Lapide's  name  was  iUin 


THE   WATEEGEASSHILL   CAEOUSAIi.  87 

SCOTT. 

Ay,  and  you  •will  recollect  how  he  splendidly  retaliated 
on  the  punster  by  dedicating  to  Sir  Thomas  his  Manias 
'Eyxu/iiov.     Erasmus  was  a  capital  fellow, 

"  The  glory  of  the  priesthood,  and  the  shame !" 
o'meaea. 
Pray,  Sir  Walter,  are  you  any  relation  of  our  great  irre- 
fragable doctor,  Duns  Scotus  P    He  was  an  ornament  of  the 
rranciscan  order. 

SCOTT. 

No,  I  have  not  that  honour  ;  but  I  have  read  what  Eras- 
mus says  of  certain  Members  of  your  fraternity,  in  a  dia- 
logue between  himself,  and  the  Echo  : 

"  (Eeasmus  loquitur.)— Q,md  est  saoerdotium  ? 
(Echo  reapoTidit.) — Otiuni  !" 
PEOn. 

That  reminds  me  of  Larduer's  idea  of  "  otium  cum  digni- 
tate,"  which  he  proposes  to  read  thus — otium  cum  diggin' 
Haties  '■ — The  sugar  and  the  materials  here  for  Mr.  BeUew. 

COEBBT.  ' 

There  was  a  witty  thing,  and  a  severe  thing,  said  of  the 
Barberini  famUy  at  Rome,  when  they  took  the  stones  of  the 
Amphitheatrum  Elavium  to  build  them  their  palazzo : 
"  Quod  non  fecerant  Barbari,  hoc  feceruut  Barberini."  But 
I  thiak  Jack  Bellew,  in  his  "  Chronicle,"  made  as  pointed  a 
remark  on  Sir  Thomas  Deane,  knight  and  builder,  who  bought 
the  old  furniture  and  gutted  the  old  castle  of  Blarney: 
"  The  Banes"  quoth  Jack,  "have  always  been  pillaging  old 
Ireland!" 

SCOTT. 

"Whoever  connived  at  or  abetted  the  destruction  of  that 
old  mansion,  or  took  any  part  in  the  transaction,  had  the 
soul  of  a  Goth ;  and  the  "  Chronicle  "  could  not  say  less. 

COEBET. 

BeUew  has  vented  his  indignation  in  a  song,  which,  if 


88  FATHBE  PBOTJT's   EEIIQTTES. 

called  on  by  so  distinguished  an  antiquary,  he  will,  no  doubt, 
sing.  And  first  let  me  propose  the  "  Liberty  of  the  Press  " 
and  the  "Cork  Chronicle," — nine  times  nine,  standing. 
Hurra ! 


Slacfe  JStlltfa'S  Song, 

AlE — "  0  weep  for  the  hour .'" 

Oh !  the  muse  shed  a  tear 

When  the  cruel  auctioneer, 
With  a  hammer  in  his  hand,  to  sweet  Blarney  came ! 

Lady  Jeffery's  ghost 

Left  the  Stygian  coast. 
And  shriek'd  the  Uve-long  night  for  her  grandson's  shame. 

The  Vandal's  hammer  fell, 

And  we  know  fuU  weE 
'  Who  bought  the  castle  furniture  and  fixtures,  O ! 

And  took  off  in  a  cart 

('Twas  enough  to  break  one's  heart !) 
All  the  statues  made  of  lead,  and  the  pictures,  O  ! 

You're  the  man  I  mean,  hight 

Sir  Thomas  Deane,  knight, 
Whom  the  people  have  no  reason  to  thank  at  all ; 

But  for  you  those  things  so  old 

Sure  would  never  have  been  sold. 
If  or  the  fox  be  looking  out  from  the  banquet-hall. 

Oh,  ye  pull'd  at  such  a  rate 

At  every  wainscoting  and  grate, 
Determin'd  the  old  house  to  sack  and  garble,  O! 

That  you  didn't  leave  a  splinter, 

To  keep  out  the  could  winter, 
Except  a  limestone  chimney-piece  of  marble,  O  ! 

And  there  the  place  was  left 

Where  bold  King  Charles  the  Twelfth 
Hung,  before  his  portrait  went  upon  a  journey,  O ! 

Och !  the  family's  itch 

For  going  to  law  was  sitch, 
That  they  bound  him  long  before  to  an  attorney,  O ! 

But  still  the  magic  stone 

(Blessings  on  it !)  is  not  flown. 
To  which  a  debt  of  gratitude  Pat  Lardner  owes  : 

Kiss  that  blockj  if  you're  a  dunce, 

Andyou'U  emulate  at  once 
The  genius  who  to  fimie  by  dint  of  blarney  rose. 


THE  WATEEflEASSHILL   CAEOITSAL.  89 


SCOTT. 

1  thank  you,  Mr.  Bellew,  for  your  excellent  ode  on  that 
most  lamentable  subject :  it  must  have  been  an  evil  day  for 
Blarney. 

BELLEW. 

A  day  to  be  blotted  out  of  the  annals  of  Innisfail — a  day 
of  calamity  and  downfai.  The  nightingale  never  sang  so 
plaintively  in  "  the  groves,"  the  dove  or  the  "  gentle  plover" 
were  not  heard  "  in  the  afternoon,"  the  fishes  wept  in  the 
deepest  recesses  of  the  lake,  and  strange  sounds  were  said 
to  issue  from  "  the  cave  where  no  dayUght  enters." — Let  me 
have  a  squeeze  of  lemon. 

SCOTT. 

But  what  became  of  the  "  statues  gracing  this  noble 
mansion  ?" 

BELLEW. 

Sir  Thomas  Deane  bought  "Nebuchadnezzar,"  and  the 
town-clerk,  one  Besnard,  bought  "  Julius  Caesar."  Sir 
Thomas  of  late  years  had  taken  to  devotion,  and  conse- 
quently coveted  the  leaden  ef£gy  of  that  Assyrian  kin^,  of 
whom  Daniel  tells  us  such  strange  things ;  but  it  turned  out 
that  the  graven  image  was  a  likeness  of  Hercules,  after  all ! 
so  that,  having  put  up  the  statue  in  his  lawn  at  Blackrock, 
the  wags  have  since  called  his  villa  "  Herculaneum."  Like 
that  personage  of  whom  Tommy  Moore  sings,  in  his  pretty 
poem  about  a  sculptor's  shop,  who  made  a  similar  qui  pro 
quo.    What's  the  verse,  Corbet  ? 


COEBET. 
"  He  came  to  buy  Jonah,  and  took  away  Jove !" 

o'meaea. 

There  is  nothing  very  wonderful  in  that.  In  St.  Peter's 
at  Eome  we  have  an  old  statue  of  Jupiter  (a  capital  antique 
bronze  it  is),  which,  with  the  addition  of  "  keys  "  and  some 
other  modem  improvements,  makes  an  excellent  figure  of  the 
prince  of  the  apostles. 


90  JATHEB  PEOTJT'S   EELIQTJES. 


PE0T7T. 

Swift  says  that  Jupiter  was  originally  a  mere  corruption 
of  "  Jew  Peter."  You  have  given  an  edition  of  the  Dean, 
Sir  Walter  ? 

SOOTT. 

Tes ;  "but  to  return  to  your  Blarney  statue  :  I  wonder  the 
•peasantry  did  not  rescue,  vi  et  armis,  the  ornaments  of  their 
immortal  groves  from  the  grasp  of  the  barbarians.  I  hap- 
pened to  be  in  Paris  when  the  allies  took  away  the  sculp- 
tured treasures  of  the  Louvre,  and  the  Venetian  horses  of 
the  Carrousel ;  and  I  well  remember  the  indignation  of  the 
sons  of  Prance.  Pray  what  was  the  connexion  between 
Blarney  Castle  and  Charles  XII.  of  Sweden  ? 

BELLBW. 

One  of  the  Jeffery  family  served  with  distinction  under 
the  gallant  Swede,  and  had  received  the  royal  portrait  on  his 
return  to  his  native  country,  after  a  successful  campaign 
against  the  Czar  Peter.  The  picture  was  swindled  out  of 
Blarney  by  an  attorney,  to  satisfy  the  costs  of  a  law-suit. 

OLBEN. 

The  Czar  Peter  was  a  consummate  politician ;  but  when 
he  chopped  off  the  beards  of  the  Eussians,  smdi  forced  his 
subjects  by  penal  laws  to  shave  their  chins,  he  acted  very 
unwisely;  he  should  have  procured  a  supply  of  eukeiro- 
geneion,  and  effected  his  object  by  smooth  means. 

OOEBET. 

Come,  Olden,  let  us  have  one  of  your  songs  about  that 
wonderful  discovery. 

OLDEN. 

I'll  willingly  give  you  an  ode  in  praise  of  the  incomparable 
lather ;  but  I  think  it  fair  to  state  that  my  song,  Kke  my 
tukeirogeneion,  is  a  modern  imitation  of  a  Greek  original; 
you  slmll  hear  it  in  both  languages. 


THE  WATEEGEASSHILL   OAEOtTSAl. 


91 


Come,  list  to  my  stave, 
Ye  who  roam  o'er  the  land  or  the  wave, 
Or  in  grots  Bubterraneau, 
Or  up  the  blue  Mediterranean, 
Near  Etna's  big  crater. 
Or  across  the  equator, 
Where,  within  St.  Helena,  there  lieth  an 

emperor's  grave ; 
If,  when  you  have  got  to  the  Caj)e  of 

&ood  Hope, 
You  begin  to  experience  a  sad  want  of 
soap, 

Bless  your  lot 
On  the  spot, 
If  you  ohanqe  to  lay  eye  on 
A  flask  of  Eukeirogeneion ; 
For  then  you  may  safely  rely  on 
A  smooth  and  most  comforting  shave ! 

In  this  liquid  there  lies  no  deception ; 
For  even  old  Neptune, 
Whose  bushy  chin  frightens 
The  green  squad  of  OSitons — 
And  who  turns  up  the  deep 
With  the  huge  flowing  sweep 
Of  his  lengthy  and  ponderous  beard,^ 
Should  he  rub  but  his  throttle 
With  the  foam  of  this  bottle, 
He'd  find. 
To  his  mind. 
In  a  twinkling  the  mop  would  have  all 
disappear' d. 


King  Nebuchadnezzar, 
Who  was  turn'd  for  his  sins  to  a  grazier, 
(For  they  stopp'd  his  allowance  of  praties. 
And  made  him  eat  grass  on  the  banks  of 
Euphrates), 

Whose  statue  Sir  Thomas 
Took  from  us; 
Along  with  the  image  of  Csesar : 
(But  Erank  CressweU  vnU  tell  the  whole 

story  to  Eraser :) 
Though  they  left  him  a  capital  razor. 
Still  went  for  seven  years  with  his  hair 

like  a  lion, 
Eor  want  of  Eukeirogeneiott. 


EuJiS/foysi/EMi/, 

Trig  f/iri^  aiepodaOe 
Q^i;C»  oaoi  irXavaaSi 
E)'  yy,  T  ev  KVfiaTiirai 
Karayatois,  r  iv  ajrujEaai 
Kvaj/e^)  re  Meffoyaiffi, 
Tlapa  Kajiivif  A.iTvaiifi 
laij/iepLvov  TTipav  ts 
I^vkXov,  €ir'  ^Xtvav  ts 
08ov  TrXeovres  fiaKpav, 
"  AyaBiXTTi-SoQ"  irpoQ  axpav, 
^navig  ei  Ttg  yivoiTO 
^airoivog,  Krjp  ^mpoiTO 
Et  y'  o/Jifia  TO  ^Xnrei  aov 
To  ErKEIPOTENEION, 
Kowpa  yap  tj  fiaXtffTa 
TlapiaTi  ffoi  TpiXXwTa. 


Ev  KXva/iaT'  ovtid  rqiSt 
E(Tr'  airaTtj,  yap  6  Sti 
TIo(ThSwVj  6  yipatoQ 
Mieyag  ^vvoffiyaiog, 
AatTov  £^(iii/  TTbiy^jvUf 
'Q  0o€eeI  TptTiava, 
Kat  -oiSavei  QaXaaaav^ 
OaaKiQ  t^nrtTaaatv 
XlwyaivoQ  tKTaOevrag 
UXoKaiiovg  ^oTpvotvTag, 
Upoaui'Trov  ti  ys  Xovei, 
KvTovg  a^pi^  tovtovi 
Ev  aKapet  to  Qiiov 
AeiatvBTat  yeveiov* 

JistvxaSvaitTap  (ffvXijg 
Ov  BXapviKrig  af  vXr)Q 
*0  Qtofiag  To  slSwXov 
"O  l3ap€apog  /iri  ^oXoiv, 
^eyaXrjv  a^aiptov  Xuav 
Kai  S7iiOb)V  ^VTUav^ 
2fii  T  avTO  pt%8  Kaiffap, 
"Qs  yvoaiTai  o  *PA1SAP) 
Ta  ivp'  apWT  avai'  iv 
OiKiff  Ejduv  Tapa^tv, 
"0  iriayinv  Kai  ^aiT-jfirtJ' 
EaOriiiivog,  izXavrig  rjv 
Orjp  uttr',  ovTdi  yap  diop 
E»x'  EYKElPOrENEION. 


92 


FATHEK   PEOTTT  S   KELIQTTES. 


PBOTJX. 

I  don't  think  it  fair  that  Prank  Cresswell  should  say  no- 
thing all  the  evening.  Up,  up,  my  boy !  give  us  a  speech  or 
a  stave  of  some  kiad  or  other.  Have  you  never  been  at 
school  ?  Come,  let  us  have  "  Nerval  on  the  G-rampian 
hills,"  or  something  or  other. 

Thus  apostrophized,  0  Queen !  I  put  my  wits  together  ; 
and,  anxious  to  contribute  my  quota  to  the  common  fund  of 
classic  enjoyment,  I  selected  the  immortal  ode  of  Campbell, 
and  gave  a  Latin  translation  ia  rhyme  as  well  as  I  could. 


Cl)e  JSattU  of  ftoi^jnltnKen.    Pralium  apud  Hohenlinden. 


On  Linden,  when  the  sun  was  low, 
All  bloodleBS  lay th'  untrodden  snow, 
And  dark  as  winter  was  the  flow 
Of  Iser  rolling  rapidly. 


But  Linden  saw  another  sight. 
When  the  drums  beat  at  dead  of 

night, 
Commanding  fires  of  death  to  light 
The  darkness  of  the  scenery. 


By  torch  and  trumpet  fast  array' d, 
Each  horseman  drew  his  battle-blade, 
And  furious  every  charger  neigh' d 
To  join  the  dreadful  rivalry. 


Then  shooi  the  hills,  by  thunder 

riven ; 
Then  rush'd  the  steed,  to  battle 

driven : 
And  louder  than  the  bolts  of  heaven 
Par  flashed  the  red  artillery ! 

The  combat  thickens  !  on,  ye  brave ! 
Who  rush  to  glory  or  the  grave. 
Wave,  Munich !    all  thy   banners 
wave, 


Sol  ruit  coelo  minuitqne  lumen, 
Nix  super  terris  jaoet   usque 

munda, 
"Eti  tenebrosii  fluit  Iser  und^ 
PlebEe  flumen ! 

Namque   nocturnus    simul  arsit 
ignis, 
Tympanum  rauoo  sonuit  boatu, 
Dum  micant  flammis,  agitante 
flatu, 

Bura  malignis. 

Jam  dedit  vocem  tuba !  fax  ru- 
bentes 
Ordinat  turmis  eqnites,  et  ultr& 
Pert    equos     ardor,    nitilante 
cultro. 

Ire  furentes. 

Turn  sono  colles  tremuere  belli. 
Turn  ruit    campo    sonipes,   et 

cether 
Mugit,  et  rubra  tonitru  videtur 
Arce  reveUi ! 


Ingruit  Btrages !  citft,  ferte  gres- 
sum ! 
Quos   triumphantem  redimere 
pulchro 


THE  WATERaEASSHILL   CAEOSrAIi.  93 

And  charge  with  all  thy  ohiyalry  !        Tempori  laurmn  juvat !  aut  fie- 

piiohro 

Stare  cupressum ! 

Few,   few  shall  part  where   many  Hie  ubi  campuin  premuere  multi, 

meet!  Tecta  quam  rari  patriae  vide- 

The  enow  shall  be  their  winding-  bunt! 

sheet,  Eeu  sepulchrali  nive  quot  ma- 

And  every  sod  beneath  their  feet  nebunt, 

Shall  be  a  soldier's  sepulchre !  Pol !  neo  inulti ! 

Such,  0  Queen !  was  my  feeble  effort :  and  to  your  fos- 
tering kindness  I  commit  the  luckless  abortion,  hoping  to 
be  forgiven  by  Tom  Campbell  for  having  upset  into  very  in- 
adequate Latin  his  spirit-stirring  poetry.  I  made  amends, 
however,  to  the  justly  enraged  Muse,  by  eliciting  the  fol- 
lowing dithyrambic  from  Dan  Corbet,  whom  I  challenged 
ia  my  turn : 

Ban  Corbet's  gona- 
The  Ivory  Tooth. 

Believe  me,  dear  Prout, 
Should  a  tooth  e'er  grow  loose  in  your  head. 

Or  fall  out, 
And  perchance  you'd  wish  one  in  its  stead, 
Soon  you'd  see  what  my  Art  could  contrive  for  ye  ( 

When  Pd  forthwith  produce, 

For  your  reverence's  use, 
A  most  beautiful  tooth  carved  from  ivoiy ! 

Which,  when  dinner-time  comes. 

Would  so  well  fit  your  gums. 

That  to  make  one  superior 

'Twould  puzzle  a  fairy,  or 

Any  cute  Leprechawn 

That  trips  o'er  the  lawn, 

Or  the  spirit  that  dwells 

In  the  lonely  harebells. 
Or  a  witch  from  the  big  lake  Ontario ! 

'Twould  fit  in  so  tight. 

So  briUiant  and  bright, 
And  be  made  of  such  capital  stuff, 
That  no  food 

Must  needs  be  eschew'd 
On  account  of  its  being  too  tough  j 


94  TATHEE  PEOTTTS   EEIIQUBS. 

'Twould  enable  a  sibyl 
The  hardest  sea-biscuit  to  nibble ; 
Nay,  with  such  a  sharp  tusk,  and  such  poMshed  enamel, 
Dear  Prout,  you  could  eat  up  a  camel ! 

As  I  know  you  will  judge 
With  eye  microscopic 
What  I  say  on  this  delicate  topic. 
And  I  wish  to  beware  of  all  fudge, 
I  tell  but  the  bare  naked  truth, 
And  I  hope  I  don't  state  what's  irrelevant, 
When  I  say  that  this  tooth, 
Brought  from  Africa,  when 
In  the  depths  of  a  palm-shaded  glen 
It  was  captured  by  men, 
Then  adorned  in  the  fuU  bloom  of  youth, 
The  jaws  of  a  blood-royal  elephant. 

We  are  told, 
That  a  surgeon  of  old — 
Oh,  'tis  he  was  well  skilled  in  the  art  of  nosology ! 
Por  such  was  his  knowledge,  he 
Could  make  you  a  nose  bran  new ! 
I  scarce  can  believe  it,  can  you  ? 
And  still  did  a  pubHo  most  keen  and  discerning 
Acknowledge  his  learning ; 
Tea,  such  skill  was  his. 
That  on  any  unfortunate  phiz, 
By  some  luckless  chance, 
In  the  wars  of  France, 
Deprived  of  its  fleshy  ridge, 
He'd  raise  up  a  nasal  bridge. 

Now  my  genius  is  not  so  precocious 
As  that  of  Dr.  Taghacotius, 
For  I  only  profess  to  be  versed  in  the  art  of  dontology ; 
To  make  you  a  nose 
"  C'est  toute  autre  chose ;" 
For  at  best,  my  dear  Prout, 
Instead  of  a  human  snout, 

You'd  get  but  a  sorry  apology. 
But  let  me  alone 
For  stopping  a  gap,  or  correcting  a  flaw 
1  In  a  patient's  jaw  5 

Or  making  a  tooth  that,  like  bone  of  your  bone. 
Win  outUve  your  own, 
And  shine  on  in  the  grave  when  your  spirit  is  flown. 


THE      MIRACULOUS     DRAUGHT. 


THE  WATEEGEASSHILIi  CAEOTJSAl.  95 

I  know  there's  a  blockhead 
That  will  put  you  a  tooth  up  with  wires, 
And  then,  when  the  dumsy  thing  tires. 

This  most  impudent  fellow 

Will  quietly  tell  you 
To  take  it  out  of  its  socket. 
And  put  it  back  into  your  waistcoat  pocket ! 

But  'tis  not  so  with  mine, 

O  most  learned  divine ! 
For  without  any  spurious  auxiliary. 
So  firmly  infixed  in  your  dexter  maxiUary, 

Ta  your  last  dying  moment'  'twill  ishine. 
Unless  'tis  knock'd  out, 
In  some  desperate  rout, 
By  a  sudden  discharge  of  artillery. 

Thus  the  firmer  'twiU  grow  as  the  wearer  grows  older. 

And  then,  when,  in  death  y6u  shall  moulder. 

Like  that  Q-reek  who  had  gotten.'ta  ivory  shoulder, ,  ,  . 

The  deUght  and  amazement  of  ev'ry  beholder. 

You'll  be  sung  by  the  poets  in  ycm-  turn,  O !' 

"  Oente  Pnoutl  humeroque  Pelops  insignia  eiurno  I 


COEBET. 

Come,  old  IVout,  let's  hare  a  staye !  Aai  first,  here's  to 
yourhealth;  my  did  .cocb !    '  '      ■  :  :.■'■■■ 

"  Perpetual  Hloom 

.  To  41ie  .Church,  of  E'omel"  .    . 

[Drunk  standing.'] 

The  excellent  old  man  acknowledged  the  toast  with  be- 
coming dignity;  an^-tunefuUy  warbled  the  Latin  original  of 
one  of  ''  the  Melodies." 

dTatlire  3Prout';S  ^ong.  Prout  cantat. 

Let  Erin  remember  the  days   of  O !  utinam  sanos  mea  lema  reoo- 

old,  gitet  annos 

Ere  her  faithless  sons  betray'd  Antea  qu^  nati  yincla  dedere 

her,  pati. 

When  Maiaohi  wore  tide  collar  of  Cilm  Malachus  toeqtte  ut  patrisa 

gold,  defensor  honorque 

Which  he  won  from  the  proud  Ibat :  erat  ver6  pignus  ab  hoste 

invader ;  fgro, 


96  FATHEE  PEOTTT'S  EELIQTJES. 

When  Nial,  with  standard  of  green  Tempore  vexillo  viridante  equita- 

unfarl'd,  bat  in  illo 

IJed  the  red-branch  knights  to  Nialua  ante   truces  fervidus  ire 

danger,  "       duces. 

Ere  the  emerald  gem  of  the  west-  Hi  nee  erant  anni  radiis  in  fronte 

em  world  tyranni 

Was  set  in  the  brow  of  a  stran-  Falgeat  ut   claris,   insula  gemma 

ger.  maris. 

On  Lough  Neagh's  banks  as  the  Quando  taoet  ventus,  Neagha  dilm 

fisherman  strays,  margine  lentus 

When  the  cool,  calm  eve's  de-  Piscator  vadit,  vesperse  ut  umbra 

clining,,  cadit. 

He  sees  the  round  towers  of  other  Contemplans  undas,  ibi  turres  stare 

days  rotundas 

Beneath  the  waters  shining.  Credidit,  inque  hxs&s  oppida  cer- 

So  shall  memory  oft,  in  dream  sub-  nit  aquis. 

Hme,  Sic  memori  in  somnis   res   gesta 

Catch  a  glimpse  of  the  days  that  reponitur  omnis 

are  over,  Historicosque  dies  rettuUt  alma 

And,  sighing,   look    through   the  qaies, 

waves  of  time,  Gtloria  sublimis  se  effert  e  fluctibus 

Por  the  long-&ded  glories  they  imis, 

cover.  Atque  apparet  ibi  patria  cara  tibi. 


PEOrT. 

I  now  call  on  my  worthy  friend  Dowden,  whom  I  am 
sorry  to  see  indulging  in  nothing  but  soda  all  the  evening  : 
come,  President  of  the  "  Temperance,"  and  ornament  of  "the 
Kirk,"  a  song ! 


Mck  l3o(ut(tn'£i  ^ong. 

AlB — "I sing  the  Maid  of  Lodi." 

I  sing  the  fount  of  soda,      •  hpiarov  fitv  to  vSutp— 

That  sweetly  springs  for  me.  So  Pindar  sang  of  old, 

Ajid  I  hope  to  make  this  ode  a  Though  modem  bards  — proh  pu- 

Delightful  melody ;  dor ! — 

For  if  "  CastaJian"  water  Deem  water  dull  and  cold; 

Befreshed  the  tuneful  nine.  But  if  at  my  suggestion 

HealthtotheMuse!  I've broughther  They'd  try  the  crystal  spring, 

A  bubbling  draught  of  mine.  They'd  find  that,  for  digestion, 

Pure  element's  the  tlmig. 


THE    WATEUaEASSHILL    CAEOTTSAIi.  97 

Witli  seda's  eheerfiil  essence  Ifor  is  the  beverage  injured 

They'd  fill  the  brimming  glass,  When  flavoured  with  a  lime ; 

And  feel  the  mild  'fervesoence  Or  if,  when  slightly  gingered, 

Of  hydrogen  and  gas ;  'Tis  swallowed  off  in  time. 
Nor  quaff  Geneva's  liquor — 

Source  of  a  thousand  flls !  Par  from  the  tents  of  topers 

Nor  swill  the  poisonous  ichor  Blest  be  my  lot  to  dwell, 

Cork  (to  her  shame !)  distils.  Secure  from  interlopers 

At  peaceful  "  Sunday's  well." 

Gia  is  a  lurking  viper,  IVee  o'er  my  lawn  to  wander, 

That  stings  the  maddened  soul,  Amid  sweet  flowers  and  fruits  j 

And  Eeason  pays  the  piper,  And  may  I  stUl  grow  fonder 

WhUe  Polly  drains  the  bowl ;  Of  chemical  pursuits. 
And  rum,  made  of  molasses, 

Inchneth  man  to  sin ;  Through  life  with  step  unerring 

And  faj"  potheen  surpasses  To  gUde,  nor  wealth  to  hoard. 

The  alcohol  of  gia.             ,  Content  if  a  red  herring 

Adorn  my  frugal  boajrd  j 

But  purest  air  in  fixture  While  Martha,  mild  and  placid. 

Pervades  the  soda  draught,  Assumes  the  household  cares, 

And  forms  the  sylph-Hke  mixture  And  pyroHgnious  acid 

Brewed  by  our  gentle  craft.  The  juicy  ham  prepares. 

SCOTT. 

That  is  a  capital  defence  of  the  Temperance  Society,  and 
of  sodaic  compounds,  Mr.  Dowden,  and  clearly  refutes  the 
rash  assertion  of  Horace — 

"  Neo  durare  diil  neo  vivere  carmina  possunt 
QuEe  scribuntur  aquse  potoribus." 

PEOTIT. 

Dick,  you  have  a  decided  claim  for  a  song  on  any  of  our 
guests  whose  melodious  pipe  we  have  not  as  yet  heard. 

DOWDEN. 

I  call  on  O'Meara,  whom  I  have  detected  watching,  with 
a  covetous  eye,  something  in  the  distant  landscape.  A  song, 
friar! 

o'meaba. 

I  am  free  to  confess  that  yonder  turkey,  of  which  I  can 
get  a  glimpse  through  the  kitchen-door,  has  a  most  tempt- 


98 


I'ATHEE  PBOTJT'S   EBLIQITES. 


ing  aspect.  "Would  it  were  spitted ! — but,  alas !  this  is 
Friday.  However,  there  are  substitutes  even  for  a  turkey, 
as  I  shall  endeavour  to  demonstrate  in  the  most  elegant 
style  of  Franciscan  Iiatinity ;  adding  a  free  translation  for 
the  use  of  the  ignorant. 


dfrtar  (©'Plcai-a'a  giong;. 

Why  then,  sure  it  was  made  by  a  learn- 
ed owl. 
The  "  rule"  by  which  I  beg, ' 
Forbidding  to  eat  of  the  tender  fowl 
That  hangs  on  yonder  peg. 
But,  rot  it !  no  matter : 
Por  here  on  a  platter, 
Sweet  Margaret  brings 
A  food  fit  for  kings ; 
And  a  meat 
Clean  and  neat — 
That's  an  egg ! 

Sweet  maid. 
She  brings  nie  an  egg  newly  laid ! 
And  to  fast  I  need  ne'er  be  afraid, 
For  'tis  Peg 
That  can  find  me  an  egg. 


Cantilena  Omearica. 
I. 

Nostrft  non  est  regul^ 

Edenda  gallina. 
Altera  sed  edula 

Splendent  in  culinS : 
Ova  mauus  sedula 

Affert  milii  biua ! 
Est  Margarita, 
Qufe  facit  ita, 

Puellarum  regina ! 


Three  different  ways  there  are  of  eat- 
ing them ; 
First  boil'd,  then  fried  with  salt, — 
But  there's  a  particular  way  of  treating 
them, 
Where  many  a  coot's  at  fault : 
For  with  parsley  and  flour 
'Tis  in  Margaret's  power 
To  make  up  a  dish, 
Neither  meat,  fowl,  nor  fish ; 
But  in  Paris  they  call 't 
A  neat 
Omelette. 
Sweet  girl ! 
In  truth,  as  in  Latin,  her  name  is  b 
pearl, 

When  she  gets 
Me  a  platter  of  nice  omelettes. 


11. 

Triplex  mos  est  edere  i 

Prim6,  genuina  j 
Dein,  certo  foedere 

Tosta,  et  salina ; 
Turn,  nil  herbse  Isedere 

Possuut  aut  farina ; 
Est  Margarita, 
Quse  facit  ita, 

Puellarum  regina ! 


THE   WATEEGEASSHILL   OAKOtfSAL.  99 

III. 
{Lento  e  maestoso.) 
Ooh !  'tis  aU  in  my  eye,  and  a  joke,         Tempus  stulta  plebs  abhorret 
To  call  fasting  a  sorrowful  yoke ;  Quadragesimale  ; 

Sure,  of  Dublin-bay  herrings  a  keg,     Halec  sed  si  in  mens^  foret, 

And  an  egg,  Res  iret  non  tarn  male ! 

Is  enough  for  aU  sensible  folk !  Ova  dum  hsec  nympha  torret 

Success  to  the  fragrant  turf-smoke,  In  oM  cum  sale. 

That  curls  round  the  pan  on  the  fire ;  Est  Margarita, 

While  the  sweet  yellow  yolk  Quse  facit  ita, 

IVom  the  egg-shells  is  broke  Puellarum  regina ! 

In  that  pan. 
Who  can, 
If  he  have  but  the  heart  of  a  man, 
Not  feel  the  soft  flame  of  desire. 
When  it  burns  to  a  clinker  the  heart  of 
a  friar? 


PEOTJT. 

I  coincide  with  all  that  has  been  said  in  praise  of  eggs  ; 
I  have  written  a  volumiaous  essay  on  the  subject ;  and  as 
to  frying  them  in  a  pan,  it  is  decidedly  the  best  method. 
That  ingenious  man,  Crofton  Croker,  was  the  first  among 
aU  the  writers  on  "  useful  knowledge  "  who  adorn  this  utili- 
tarian epoch  to  discover  the  striking  resemblance  that  exists 
between  those  two  delightful  objects  in  natural  history,  a 
daisy  and  a  fried  egg.  Eggs  broken  into  a  pan  seem  encir- 
cled with  a  whitish  border,  having  a  yellow  nucleus  in  the 
centre ;  and  the  similar  appearance  of  the  field-daisy  ought 
to  have  long  since  drawn  the  notice  of  "Wordsworth.  Mean- 
time, in  the  matter  of  frying  eggs,  care  should  be  taken  not 
to  overdo  them,  as  an  old  philosopher  has  said — ^asXsrj)  to  -rav. 
But  let  none  imagine  that  in  all  I  have  said  I  intend  to 
hiat,  in  the  remotest  manner,  any  approval  of  that  barbarous 
and  unnatural  combination — that  horrid  amalgam,  yclept  a 
pancake,  than  which  nothing  can  be  more  detestable. 

SOOXT. 

Have  you  any  objection,  learned  host,  to  our  hearing  a 
little  instrumental  music  ?  Suppose  we  got  a  tune  on  the 
bagpipe  ?  I  understand  your' man,  Terry  Callaghan,  can 
squeeze  the  bags  to  some  purpose. 

h2 


100  TATHEE  PUOTJT'S   EELIQUJES. 

PEOtlT. 

Terry !  come  in,  and  bring  your  pipes ! 

Terry,  nothing  loath,  came,  though  with  some  difficulty, 
and  rather  unsteadily,  from  the  kitchen ;  and  having  esta- 
blished himself  on  a  three-legged  stool  (the  usual  seat  of 
Pythonic  inspiration),  gave,  after  a  short  prelude,  the  fol- 
lowing harmonious  strain,  with  vocal  accompaniment  to  suit 
the  tuneful  drone  of  the  bags :  in  which  arrangement  he 
strictly  adhered  to  the  Homeric  practice  ;  for  we  find  that 
the  most  approved  and  highly  gifted  miastrels  of  the  "  Odys- 
sey," (especially  that  model  among  the  bards  of  antiquity, 
Demodocjis),  owing  to  their  contempt  for  wind-instruments, 
were  enabled  to  play  and  sing  at  the  same  time  ;  but  neither 
the  lyre,  the  plectrum,  the  ^ogfiiy^,  the  chelys,  the  testudo, 
or  the  barbiton,  afford  such  facilities  for  the  concomitance 
of  voice  and  music  as  that  wondrous  engine  of  harmony,  the 
Celtic  bagpipe,  called  "  corne  muse "  by  the  French,  as  if 
par  excellence  "cornu  muscB."  Terry,  having  exalted  his  horn, 
sang  thus  : 

t!Eerrg  CaIIag!)an'S  Song; 

Being  a  full  and  true  Account  of  the  Storming  of  Blarney  Castle^  by 
the  united  forces  of  Cromwell,  Ireton,  and  Fairfax,  in  1628. 

AlE — "  rm  akin  to  the  Callaghans." 
0  Blarney  Ca«tle,  my  darlint ! 

Sure  you're  nothing  at  all  but  a  stone 
Wrapt  in  ivy — a  nest  for  all  varmiat, 

Since  the  ould  Lord  Clancarty  is  gone. 
Och !  'tis  you  that  was  once  strong  and  aincient, 

And  ye  kep  all  the  Sassenachs  down. 
While  fighting  them  battles  that  aint  yet 
Forgotten  by  martial  renown. 

O  Blarney  Castle,  &o. 

Bad  luck  to  that  robber,  ould  CrommiH ! 

That  plundered  our  beautiful  fort ; 
We'll  never  forgive  him,  though  some  will — 

Saxons  !  such  as  George  Kuapp  and  his  sort. 
But  they  tell  us  the  day  '11  come,  when  Dannel 

Win  purge  the  whole  coimtry,  and  drive 
All  the  Sassenachs  into  the  channel. 

Nor  leave  a  CromwelHan  alive. 

O  Blarney  Castle,  && 


THE  "WATEHGBASSHIIil,   OAEOUSAI;.  101 

Curse  the  day  clumsy  N'oE'a  ugly  corpus. 

Clad  in  copper,  was  seen  on  our  plain ; 
When  he  rowled  oyer  here  like  a  porpoise, 

In  two  or  three  hooters  from  Spain ! 
And  hekase  that  he  was  a  freemason 

He  mounted  a  battering-ram. 
And  into  her  mouth,  full  of  treason. 

Twenty  pound  of  gunpowder  he'd  cram. 
O  Blarney  Castle,  &c. 

So  wlien  the  brare  boys  of  dancarty 

Looked  over  their  battlement- v/all, 
They  saw  wicked  Ohver's  party 

All  a  feeding  on  powder  and  ball ; 
And  that  giniral  that  married  his  daughter, 

Wid  a  heap  of  grape-shot  in  his  jaw — 
That's  bould  Ireton,  so  famous  for  slaughter— 

And  he  was  his  brother-in-law. 

O  Blarney  Castle,  &c. 

They  fired  o£F  their  bullets  Uke  thunder, 

TiuA  whizzed  through  the  air  like  a  snake ; 
And  they  made  the  ould  castle  (no  wonder !) 

With  all  its  foundations  to  shake. 
While  the  Irish  had  nothing  to  shoot  off 

But  their  bows  and  their  arras,  the  sowls ! 
Waypons  fit  for  the  wars  of  old  Plutarch, 

And  perhaps  mighty  good  for  wild  fowls, 
O  Blarney  Castle,  &c. 
Oeh !  'twas  Crommill  then  gave  the  dark  token — 

For  in  the  black  art  he  was  deep  ; 
And  tho'  the  eyes  of  the  Irish  stood  open, 

They  foimd  themselves  all  fast  asleep ! 
With  his  jack-boots  he  stepped  on  the  water, 

And  he  walked  clanu  right  over  the  lake ; 
While  his  sodgers  they  all  followed  after, 

As  dry  as  a  duck  or  a  drake. 

O  Blarney  Castle,  &c. 
Then  the  gates  he  burnt  down  to  a  cinder. 

And  the  roof  he  demolished  likewise ; 
O  !  the  rafters  they  flamed  out  like  tinder. 

And  the  buildin'^«i^  up  to  the  skies. 
And  he  gave  the  estate  to  the  Jeffers, 

With  the  dairy,  the  cows,  and  the  hay ; 
And  they  Hved  there  in  clover  like  heifers, 

As  their  ancestors  do  to  this  day. 

O  Blarney  Castle,  &c. 

Sucli  was  the  song  of  Terry,  in  the  chorus  of  which  he 
was  aided  by  the  sympathetic   baryton  of  Jack  Bellew's 


102  TATHEE  PEOUT'S   EEIjIQTJES. 

voice,  never  silent  when  Ms  country's  woes  are  the  theme 
of  eloquence  or  minstrelsy.  An  incipient  somnolency  be- 
gan, however,  to  manifest  itself  in  Corbet  and  Dick  Dow- 
den  ;  and  I  confess  I  myself  can  recollect  little  else  of  the 
occurrences  of  the  evening.  Wherefore  with  this  epUogue  we 
conclude  our  account  of  the  repast  on  Watergrasshill,  ob- 
serving that  Sir  "Walter  Scott  was  highly  pleased  with  the 
sacerdotal  banquet,  and  expressed  himself  so  to  Knapp  ;  to 
whom,  on  their  return  in  a  post-chaise  to  Cork,  he  ex- 
claimed, 

"  Prorsils  juound&  coenam  produximus  illam." — ^HoB. 


No.  IV. 

DEAN  swift's  MADNESS.      A  TAIE   OE  A  CHTIEN. 

"  O  thou,  whatever  title  please  thine  ear, 
Dean,  Drapier,  Biokerstaff,  or  G-uUirer — 
Whether  thou  choose  Cervantes'  serious  air. 
Or  laugh  and  shake  in  Kab'lais'  easy  chair, 
Or  praise  the  court,  or  magnify  mankind. 
Or  thy  grieved  country's  copper  chains  unbind !" 

Pope. 

"We  are  perfectly  prepared  for  the  overwhelming  burst  of 
felicitation  which  we  shall  elicit  from  a  sympathiziag  public, 
when  we  announce  the  glad  tidings  of  the  safe  arrival  in 
London  of  the  "Watergrasshill  "  chest,"  fraught  with  trea- 
sures such  as  no  Spanish  gaUeon  ever  wafted  from  Manilla 
or  Peru  into  the  waters  of  the  Gruadalquiver.  Yrova  the  re- 
mote Irish  highland  where  Prout  wasted  so  much  Athenian 
suavity  on  the  desert  air,  unnoticed  and  unappreciated  by 
the  rude  tenants  of  the  hamlet,  his  trunk  of  posthumous 
papers  has  been  brought  into  our  cabinet ;  and  there  it 
stands  before  us,  like  unto  the  Trojan  horse,  replete  with  the 
armed  offspring  of  the  great  man's  brain,  right  well  packed  with 


DEAN   SWIPT'S   madness.  103 

classic  stuffing — ay,  pregnant  witli  life  and  glory !  Haply  has 
Fate  decreed  that  it  should  fall  into  proper  hands  and  fit- 
ting custody ;  else  to  what  vile  uses  might  not  this  vile  box 
of  learned  lumber  have  been  unwittingly  converted — we 
shudder  in  spirit  at  the  probable  destiny  that  would  have 
awaited  it.  The  Caliph  Omar  warmed  the  bath  of  Alex- 
andria with  Ptolemy's  library ;  and  the  "  Prout  Papers " 
might  ere  now  be  lighting  the  pipes  of  "  the  boys  "  in  Blar- 
ney Lane,  while  the  chest  itself  might  afford  materials  for  a 
three-legged  stool — "  Truneus  ficuhius,  inutile  lignum .'" 

In  verity  it  ought  to  be  allowable  at  times  to  indulge  in 
that  most  pleasing  opiate,  self-applause ;  and  having  made 
so  goodly  an  acquisition,  why  should  not  we  chuckle  in- 
wardly while  congratulated  from  without,  ever  and  anon 
glancing  an  eye  of  satisfaction  at  the  chest : 

"  Mihi  plaudo  ipse  domi,  Bimul  ao  contemplor  in  arcS. !" 

Never  did  that  learned  ex- Jesuit,  Angelo  Mai,  now  librarian 
of  the  Vatican,  rejoice  more  over  a  "palimpsest"  MS. of  some 
crazy  old  monk,  in  which  his  quick  eye  fondly  had  detected 
the  long-lost  decade  of  Livy — never  did  friend  Pettigrew 
gloat  over  a  newly  uncoffined  mummy — (warranted  of  the 
era  of  Sesostris) — ^never  did  (that  living  mummy)  Maurice^ 
de  Talleyrand  exult  over  a  fresh  bundle  of  PaLtnerstonian 
protocols,  with  more  internal  complacency, — than  did  we, 
jubilating  over  this  sacerdotal  anthology,  this  miscellany  "in 
boards,"  at  la»st  safely  lodged  in  our  possession. 

Apropos.  We  should  mention  that  we  had  previously  the 
honour  of  receiving  from  his  Excellency  Prince  Maurice 
{aforesaid)  the  following  note,  to  which  it  grieved  us  to 
return  a  flat  negative. 

"Le  Prince  de  Talleyrand  prie  Mr.  OlitieeTobke  d'agr^er 
ses  respectueux  hommages.  Ayant  eu  I'avantage  de  connaitre 
personeUement  feu  I'Abb^  de  Prout  lors  de  ses  dtudes  d  la 
Sorbonne  en  1778,  il  serait  charm^  sit6t  qu'arriveront  les 
papiers  de  ce  respectable  eccl&iastique,  d'assister  k  I'ouver- 
ture  du  cofire.  Cette  faveur,  qu'U  se  flatte  d'obtenir  de  la 
poUtesse  reconnue  de  Monsieur  Toese,  il  S9aura  duement 
apprecier. 

"  Atnbassade  de  Prance,  Hanovre  Sq. 
"  ce  3  Juin." 


104l  PATHEB    PEOTIT's   EBLIQTJES. 

We  suspected  at  once,  and  our  surmise  has  proved  correct, 
that  many  documents  would  be  found  referring  to  Marie 
Antoinette's  betrayers,  and  the  practices  of  those  three 
prime  intriguers,  Mirabeau,  Cagliostro,  and  Prince  Maurice ; 
so  that  we  did  well  in  eschewing  the  honour  intended  us  id 
overhauling  these  papers — Non  "  Talley  "  auxilio  ! 

"We  hate  a  flourish  of  trumpets ;  and  though  we  could 
justly  command  aU  the  clarions  of  renown  to  usher  in  these 
Prout  writings,  lettheirown  intrinsic  worth  hethe  sole  herald 
of  their  fame.  "We  are  not  Uke  the  rest  of  men — that 
is,  such  as  Lardner  and  Bob  Montgomery — obliged  to 
inflate  our  cheeks  with  incessant  effort  to  blow  our  com- 
modities iato  notoriety.  No  !  we  are  not  disciples  in  the 
school  of  Puffendorf :  Prout's_^sA  will  be  found  fresh  and 
substantial — not  "blown,"  as  happens  too  frequently  ia  the 
literary  market.  "We  have  more  than  once  acknowledged 
the  unsought  and  unpurchased  plaudits  of  our  contempora- 
ries :  but  it  is  also  to  the  imperishable  verdict  of  posterity  that 
we  ultimately  look  for  a  ratification  of  modern  applause ; 
with  Cicero  we  exclaim— '  Memori^  vestr^,  Quirites,  nostrse 
res  vivent,  sermonibus  crescent,  litterarum  monumentis 
veterascent  et  corroborabuntur!"  Tes  !  whUe  the  epheme- 
ral writers  of  the  day,  mere  bubbles  on  the  surface  of  the 
flood,  will  become  extinct  in  succession,  —  while  a  few, 
more  lucky  than  their  comrade  dunces,  may  continue 
for  a  space  to  swim  with  the  aid  of  those  vile  bladders,  news- 
paper puffs,  Father  Prout  will  be  seen  floating  triumphantly 
down  the  stream  of  time,  secure  and  buoyant  in  a  genuine 
"  Cork  "jacket. 

"We  owe  it  to  the  public  to  account  for  the  delay  experi- 
enced in  the  transmission  of  the  "chest"  from  "WatergrasshiH 
to  our  hands.  The  fact  is,  that  at  a  meeting  of  the  parishioners 
held  on  the  subject  (Mat  Horrogan,  of  Blarney,  in  the 
chair),  it  was  resolved,  "  That  Terry  Callaghan,  being  a  tall 
and  trustworthy  man,  able  to  do  credit  to  the  village  in 
London,  and  carry  eleven  stone  weight  (the  precise  tariff  of 
the  trunk),  should  be  sent  at  the  public  expense,  j)ia  Bristol, 
with  the  coffer  strapped  to  his  shoulders,  and  plenty  of  the 
wherewithal  to  procure  '  refreshment '  on  the  western  road, 
mtil  he  should  deliver  the  same  at  Mr.  Fraser's,  Eegent 
Street,  with  the  compliments  of  the  parish."    Terry,  wisely 


DEAN   SWiri'S   MADNESis  105 

considering,  like  the  Commissioners  of  the  Deecan  prize- 
mone;^,  that  the  occupation  was  too  good  a  thing  not  to 
make  it  last  as  long  as  possible,  kept  refreshing  himself,  at 
the  cost  of  the  parochial  committee,  on  the  great  western 
road,  and  only  arrived  last  week  in  Eegent  Street.  Having 
duly  stopped  to  admire  Lady  Aldborough's  "  round  tower," 
set  up  to  honour  the  Duke  of  York,  and  elbowed  his  way 
through  the  "  Squadrint,"  he  at  last  made  his  appearance 
at  our  office  ;  and  when  he  had  there  discharged  his  load, 
went  off  to  take  pot-luck  with  Peargus  O'Connor. 

Here,  then,  we  are  enabled,  no  longer  deferring  the  pro- 
mised boon,  to  lay  before  the  public  the  first  of  the  "  Prout 
Papers  ;"  breaking  bulk,  to  use  a  seaman's  phrase,  and  pro- 
ducing at  hazard  a  specimen  of  what  is  contained  in  the 
coffer  brought  hither  on  the  shoulders  of  tall  and  trust- 
worthy Terry  Callaghan. 

"  Pandere  res  altd  Terrd  et  Caligine  mersas.'' 

OLIVEE  TOEKE. 
■      Regent  Street,  \st  July,  1834. 


Watergrasshill,  March  1B30^ 

Yet  a  few  years,  and  a  full  century  shall  have  elapsed  since 
the  death  of  Dr.  Jonathan  Swift,  Dean  of  St.  Patrick's.  Yes, 
0  my  friends  !  if  such  I  may  presume  to  designate  you  into 
whose  hands,  when  I  am  gathered  to  the  silent  tomb,  these 
writings  shall  faU,  and  to  whose  kindly  perusal  I  commend 
them,  bequeathing,  at  the  same  time,  the  posthumous  bless- 
iug  of  a  feeble  and  toil-worn  old  man — yes,  when  a  few  win- 
ters more  shall  have  added  to  the  accumulated  snow  of  age 
that  weighs  on  the  hoary  head  of  the  pastor  of  this  upland, 
and  a  short  period  shall  have  roUed  on  in  the  duU  monotony 
of  these  latter  days,  the  centenary  cycle  will  be  fully  com- 
pleted, the  secular  anthem  of  dirge-like  solemnity  may  be 
sung,  since  the  grave  closed  for  ever  on  one  whom  Britain 

i"u8tly  reveres  as  the  most  upright,  intuitive,  and  gifted  of 
ler  sages ;  and  whom  Ireland,  when  the  frenzied  hour  of 
strife  shall  have  passed  away,  and  the  turbulence  of  parties 
shall  have  subsided  into  a  national  calm,  will  hail  with  the 


106  FATHER  PEOTIT'S    EELIQTTES. 

rapture  of  returning  reason,  as  the  first,  the  best,  the  mighti- 
est of  her  sons.  The  long  arrears  of  gratitude  to  the  only 
true  disinterested  champion  of  her  people  wiU  then  be  paid— 
the  long-deferred  apotheosis  of  the  patriot-divine  will  then 
take  place— the  shamefuUy- forgotten  debt  of  glory  which  the 
lustre  of  his  genius  shed  around  his  semi-barbarous  country- 
men will  be  deeply  and  feelingly  remembered  ;  the  old  land- 
mark of  genuine  worth  wiU  be  discovered  in  the  ebbing  of 
modem  agitation,  and  due  honour  wiU  be  rendered  by  a 
more  enlightened  age  to  the  keen  and  scrutinizing  philoso- 
pher, the  scanner  of  whate'er  Kes  hidden  in  the  folds  of  the 
human  heart,  the  prophetic  seer  of  coming  things,  the  un- 
sparing satirist  of  contemporary  delinquency,  the  stern 
Bhadamanthus  of  the  political  and  of  the  literary  world, 
the  star  of  a  benighted  land,  the  lance  and  the  buckler  of 
Israel — 

"  We  ne'er  shall  look  upon  hia  like  again."* 

And  stiU  why  must  I  recall  (what  I  would  fein  ob- 
literate) the  ever-painful  fact, — graven,  alas !  too  inde- 
libly on  the  stubborn  tablets  of  his  biographers,  chronicled 
in  the  annals  of  the  country,  and,  above  all,  firmly  and 
fatally  established  by  the  monumental  record  of  hia  own 
philanthropic  munificence, —  the  disastrous  fact,  that  ere 
this  brilliant  light  of  our  island  was  quenched  in  death,  to- 
wards the  close  of  the  year  1745 — long  before  that  sad 
consummation,  the  flame  had  wavered  wild  and  flickered  fit- 
fully in  its  lamp  of  clay,  casting  around  shadows  of  ghastly 
form,  and  soon  assuming  a  strange  and  melancholy  hue,  that 
made  every  well-wisher  hail  as  a  blessing  the  event  of  its 

*  Note  in  Prout's  handwriting :  "  Doyle,  of  Carlow,  faintly  resembles 
him.  Bold,  honest,  disinterested,  an  able  writer,  a  scholar,  a  gentle- 
man J  a  bishop,  too,  in  our  church,  with  none  of  the  shallow  pedantry, 
silly  hauteur,  arrant  selfishness,  and  anile  dotage,  which  may  be  some- 
times covered,  but  not  hidden,  vmder  a  mitre.  Swift  demohshed,  in  his 
day.  Woods  and  his  bad  halfpence  ;  Doyle  denounced  Daniel  and  his 
box  of  coppers.  A  proyisiou  for  the  starving  Irish  was  called  for  by 
'  the  Dean,'  and  was  sued  for  by  '  J.  K.  L.'  Alas  !  when  will  the  Go- 
vernment awaken  to  the  voice  of  our  island's  best  and  most  enlightened 
patriots  ?  Truly,  it  hath  '  Moses  and  the  prophets ' — doth  the  Legis- 
lature wait  until  one  come  from  the  dead  ?" 

Doyle  is  since  dead — but  "  defimctus  adhuo  loquitur !" — O.  T. 


BEAN   swift's    MADNESS.  107 

final  extinction  in  the  cold  and  dismal  vaults  of  St.  Patrick's  ? 
In  what  mysterious  struggle  his  gigantic  intellect  had  been 
cloven  down,  none  could  tell.  But  the  evil  genius  of  in- 
sanity had  clearly  obtained  a  masterdom  over  faculties  the 
most  powerful,  and  endowments  the  highest,  that  have  fallen 
to  the  lot  of  man. 

We  are  told  of  occasional  hours  of  respite  from  the  fangs 
of  his  tormenting  daifjbm, — we  learn  of  moments  when  the 
"  mens  divinior"  was  suffered  to  go  loose  from  its  gaoler, 
and  to  roam  back,  as  it  were  on  "parole,"  into  the  domi- 
nions of  reason,  like  the  ghost  of  the  murdered  king,  allow- 
ed to  revisit,  for  a  brief  space,  the  glimpses  of  our  glorious 
firmament, — but  such  gleams  of  mental  enlightenment  were 
but  few,  and  short  in  their  duration.  They  were  like  the 
fiash  that  is  seen  to  illumine  the  wreck  when  all  hope  is 
gone,  and,  fiercely  bursting  athwart  the  darkness,  appears 
but  to  seal  the  doom  of  the  cargo  and  the  mariners — inter- 
vals of  lugubrious  transport,  described  by  our  native  bard  as 

"  That  ecstasy  which,  from  the  depths  of  sadness, 
G-lares  like  the  maniac's  moon,  whose  light  is  madneSs." 

Alas !  full  rapidly  would  that  once  clear  and  sagacious  spirit 
falter  and  relapse  into  the  torpor  of  idiocy.  '  His  large,  ex- 
pressive eyes,  rolling  wUdly,  would  at  times  exhibit,  as  it 
were,  the  inward  working  of  his  reason,  essaying  in  vain  to 
cast  off  the  nightmare  that  sat  triumphant  there,  impeding 
that  current  of  thought,  once  so  brisk  and  brilliant.  Noble 
and  classic  in  the  very  writhings  of  delirium,  and  often 
sublime,  he  would  appear  a  living  image  of  the  sculptured 
Laocoon,  battling  with  a  serpent  that  bad  grasped,  not  the 
body,  but  the  mind,  in  its  entangling  folds.  Tet  m\ist  we 
repeat  the  sad  truth,  and  again  record  in  sorrow,  that  the 
last  two  or  three  years  of  Jonathan  Swift  presented  nothing 
but  the  shattered  remnants  of  what  had  been  a  powerfully 
organized  being,  to  whom  it  ought  to  have  been  allotted, 
according  to  our  faint  notions,  to  carry  unimpaired  and  un- 
diminished into  the  hands  of  Him  who  gave  such  varied 
gifts,  and  formed  such  a  goodly  intellect,  the  stores  of 
hoarded  wisdom  and  the  overflowing  measure  of  talents  well 
employed :  but  such  was  not  the  counsel  of  an  inscrutable 


1.08  TATHEH  PEOUT'S   EELIQTJBS. 

Providence,  whose  decree  was  to  be  fulfilled  in  the  pros- 
tration of  a  mighty  understanding — 

Aiog  i'  iTiXiim  fSotjXrj. 

And  here  let  me  pause — for  a  sadly  pleasing  reminiscence 
steals  across  my  mind,  a  recollection  of  youthful  days.  I 
love  to  fix,  in  its  flight,  a  transitory  idea  ;  and  I  freely  plead 
the  privilege  of  discursiveness  conceded  to  the  garrulity  of 
old  age.  When  my  course  of  early  travel  led  me  to  wander 
in  search  of  science,  and  I  sought  abroad  that  scholastic 
knowledge  which  was  denied  to  us  at  home  in  those  evU 
days ;  when,  by  force  of  legislation,  I  became,  like  others  of 
my  clerical  brethren,  a  "  peripatetic"  philosopher — ^like  them 
compelled  to  perambulate  some  part  of  Europe  in  quest  of 
proressional  education, — the  sunny  provinces  of  southern 
Prance  were  the  regions  of  my  choice ;  and  my  first  glean- 
ings of  literature  were  gathered  on  the  banks  of  that  mighty 
stream  so  faithfully  characterised  by  Burdigala's  native  poet 
Ausonius,  in  his  classic  enumeration : 

"  Lentus  Arar,  KhodamisqiM  celer,  PEEHTTSque  Q-AETrsoTA." 

One  day,  a  goatherd,  who  fed  his  shaggy  flock  along  the 
river,  was  heard  by  me,  as,  seated  on  the  lofty  bank,  he  gazed 
on  the  shiuing  flood,  to  sing  a  favourite  carol  of  the  country. 
"Twas  but  a  simple  ballad ;  yet  it  struck  me  as  a  neat  illus- 
tration of  the  ancient  parallel  between  the  flow  of  human 
life  and  the  course  of  the  running  waters ;  and  thus  it 
began: 

"  Salut !  O  vieux  fleuve,  qui  coulez  par  la  plaine ! 
H^las !  un  mfeme  coure  ioi  bas  nous  entraine — 

Egal  est  en  tout  notre  sort : 
Tou3  deux  nous  foumiBsouB  la  mtoe  carri^re ; 
Oar  un  m^me  destiu  nous  rnhxe,  O  rivifere ! — 

Vous  h  la  mer !  nous  k  la  mort !' 

So  sang  the  rustic  minstrel.  But  it  has  occurred  to  me, 
calmly  and  sorrowfully  pondering  on  the  fate  of  Swift,  that 
although  this  melancholy  resemblance,  so  often  alluded  to  in 
Scriptural  allegory,  may  hold  good  iu  the  general  fortunes 
of  mankind,  still  has  it  been  denied  to  some  to  complete  ia 


DEAN    SWiri's    MADNESS.  109 

their  personal  history  the  sad  similitude  ;  for  not  a  few,  and 
these  some  of  the  most  exalted  of  our  species,  have  been 
forbidden  to  glide  into  the  Ocean  of  Eternity  bringing 
thereunto  the  fulness  of  their  life-current  with  its  brim- 
ming banks  undrained. 

Who  that  has  ever  gazed  on  the  glorious  Ehine,  coeval 
in  historic  memory  with  the  first  CsBsar,  and  boasting  much 
previous  traditionary  renown,  at  the  spot  where  it  gushes 
from  its  Alpine  source,  would  not  augur  to  it,  with  the  poet, 
an  uninterrupted  career,  and  an  ever-growing  volume  of 
copious  exuberance  ? 

"  Au  pied  du  Mont  Adulle,  entre  miUe  roseaux, 
Le  Ehin  tranquil,  et  fier  du  progres  de  ses  eaus, 
Appuy^  d'une  main  but  son  xvene  penohante, 
S'endort  au  bruit  flatteur  de  son  onde  naiasante." 

BoIIEATT. 

Whence  if  it  is  viewed  sweeping  in  brilliant  cataracts  through 
many  a  mountain  glen,  and  many  a  woodland  scene,  until  it 
glides  from  the  realms  of  romance  into  the  business  of  Ufe, 
and  forms  the  majestic  boundary  of  two  rival  nations,  con- 
ferring benefits  on  both — reflecting  from  the  broad  expanse 
of  its  waters  anon  the  mellow  vineyards  of  Johannisberg, 
anon  the  hoary  crags  of  Drachenfels — who  then  could 
venture  to  foretell  that  so  splendid  an  aUiance  of  usefulness 
and  grandeur  was  destined  to  be  dissolved — that  yon  rich 
flood  would  never  gain  that  ocean  into  whose  bosom  a 
thousand  rivulets  flow  on  with  unimpeded  gravitation,  but 
would  disappear  in  the  quagmires  of  Helvoetsluys,  be  lost 
in  the  swamps  of  Manders,  or  absorbed  in  the  sands  of 
Holland  ?  ^ 

Yet  such  is  the  course  of  the  Ehine,  and  such  was  the 
destiny  of  Swift, — of  that  man  the  outpourings  of  whose 
abmidant  mind  fertilized  alike  the  land  of  his  fathers  *  and 
the  land  of  his  birth  :  that  man  the  very  overflowings  of 
whose  strange  genius  were  looked  on  by  his  contemporaries 
with  deKght,  and  welcomed  as  the  inundations  of  the  Nile 
are  hailed  by  the  men  of  Egypt. 

*  Prout  supposes  Swift  to  have  been  a  natural  son  of  Sir  William 
lemple,    We  believe  him  in  error  here. — O.  T. 


110  I'ATHEE  PEOUT'S  EBlIQrES. 

A  deep  and  hallowed  motive  impels  me  to  select  that  last 
and  dreary  period  of  his  career  for  the  subject  of  special 
analysis ;  to  elucidate  its  secret  history,  and  to  examine  it 
in  aU  its  bearings  ;  eliminating  conjecture,  and  substituting 
fact ;  prepared  to  demolish  the  visionary  superstructure  of 
hypothesis,  and  to  place  the  matter  on  its  simple  basis  of 
truth  and  reality. 

It  is  far  from  my  purpose  and  far  from  my  heart  to  tread 
on  such  solemn  ground  save  with  becoming  awe  and  with 
feet  duly  unshodden.  If,  then,  in  the  following  pages,  I 
dare  to  unseal  the  long-closed  well,  think  not  that  I  seek  to 
desecrate  the  fountain :  if  it  devolves  on  me  to  lift  the  veil, 
fear  not  that  I  mean  to  profane  the  sanctuary :  tarry  until 
this  paper  shaU  have  been  perused  to  its  close ;  nor  wUl  it 
fall  from  your  grasp  without  leaving  behind  it  a  conviction 
that  its  contents  were  braced  by  no  unfriendly  hand,  and  by 
no  unwarranted  biographer :  for  if  a  bald  spot  were  to  be 
found  on  the  head  of  Jonathan  Swift,  the  hand  of  Andrew 
Prout  should  be  the  first  to  cover  it  with  laurels. 

There  is  a  something  sacred  about  insanity :  the  traditions 
of  every  country  agree  in  flinging  a  halo  of  mysterious  dis- 
tinction around  the  unhappy  mortal  stricken  with  so  sad  and 
so  lonely  a  visitation.  The  poet  who  most  studied  from 
nature  and  least  from  books,  the  immortal  Shakespeare,  has 
never  made  our  souls  thriU  with  more  intense  sympathy  than 
when  his  personages  are  brought  before  us  bereft  of  the 
guidance  of  reason.  The  grey  hairs  of  King  Lear  are  silvered 
over  with  additional  veneration  when  he  raves ;  and  the 
wild  flower  of  insanity  is  the  tenderest  that  decks  the  pure 
garland  of  Ophelia.  The  story  of  Orestes  has  furnished' 
Gfreek  tragedy  with  its  most  powerful  emotions  ;  and  never 
did  the  mighty  Talma  sway  with  more  irresistible  dominion 
the  assembled  men  of  Prance,  than  when  he  personated  the 
fury-driven  maniac  of  Euripides,  revived  on  the  French  stage 
by  the  muse  of  Voltaire.  We  know  that  among  rude  and 
untutored  nations  madness  is  of  rare  occurrence,  and  its  in- 
stances few  indeed.  But  though  its  frequency  in  more  re- 
fined and  civUised  society  has  taken  away  much  of  the 
deferential  homage  paid  to  it  in  primitive  times,  still,  in  the 
palmiest  days  of  G-reek  and  Eoman  illumination,  the  oracles 
of  Delphi  found  their  fitting  organ  in  the  frenzy  of  the 


BEAN   swift's   madness.  Ill 

Pythoness  ;  and  througli  such  channels  does  the  Latin  lyrist 
represent  the  Deity  communicating  with  man : 

■  quatit 


Mentem  saoerdotum  inoola  Pythius." 

JBut  let  us  look  into  our  own  breasts,  and  acknowledge  that, 
with  all  the  fastidious  pride  of  fancied  superiority,  and  in 
the  full  plenitude  of  our  undimmed  reason,  we  cannot  face  the 
breathing  ruin  of  a  noble  intellect  undismayed.  The  broken 
sounds,  the  vague  intensity  of  that  gaze,  those  whisperings 
that  seem  to  commune  with  the  world  of  spirits,  the  play  of 
those  features,  still  impressed  with  the  signet  of  immortality, 
though  illegible  to  our  eye,  strike  us  with  that  awe  which 
the  obelisk  of  the  desert,  with  its  insculptured  riddles,  in- 
spires into  the  Arabian  shepherd.  An  oriental  opinion  makes 
such  beings  the  favourites  of  Heaven  :  and  the  strong  tinc- 
ture of  eastern  ideas,  so  discernible  on  many  points  in  Ire- 
land, is  here  also  perceptible ;  for  a  born  idiot  among  the 
offspring  of  an  Irish  cabin  is  prized  as  a  taraily  palladium. 

To  contemplate  what  was  once  great  and  resplendent  in 
the  eyes  of  man  slowly  mouldering  in  decay,  has  never  been 
an  unprofitable  exercise  of  thought ;  and  to  muse  over  reason 
itself  fallen  and  prostrate,  cannot  fail  to  teach  us  our  com- 
plete deficiency.  If  to  dwell  among  ruins  and  amid  sepul- 
chres—-to  explore  the  pUlared  grandeur  of  the  tenantless 
Palmyra,  or  the  crumbling  wreck  of  that  Eoman  amphi- 
f  theatre  once  manned  with  applauding  thousands  and  rife 
with  joy,  now  overgrown  with  shrubs  and  haunted  by  the 
owl— if  to  soliloquize  in  the  valley  where  autumnal  leaves 
are  thickly  strewn,  ever  reminding  us  by  their  incessant 
rustle,  as  we  tread  the  path,  "  that  all  that's  bright  must 
fade ;" — if  these  things  beget  that  mood  of  soul  in  which 
the  suggestions  of  Heaven  find  readiest  adoption, — how 
forcibly  must  the  wreck  of  mind  itself,  and  the  mournful 
aberrations  of  that  faculty  by  which  most  we  assimilate  to 
our  Maker,  humble  our  self-sufficiency,  and  bend  down  our 
spirit  in  adoration  !  It  is  in  truth  a  sad  bereavement,  a  dis- 
severing of  ties  long  cherished,  a  parting  scene  melancholy 
to  witness,  when  the  ethereal  companion  of  this  clay  takes 
its  departure,  an  outcast  from  the  earthly  coil  that  it  once 
animated  with  iateUectual  fire,  and  wanders  astray,  cheerless 


112  FATHEE  PEOTTt'S   EELIQTTES. 

and  friendless,  beyond  the  picturings  of  poetry  to  describe;— 
a  picture  realised  in  Swift,  who,  more  than  Adrian,  was  en- 
titled to  exclaim : 

"  ATn'mula  vagiila,  blandula,  "  Wee  soul,  fond  rambler,  -whitlier,  say, 
Hospes  comesque  corporis,  WMther,  boon  comrade,  fleest  away? 
Quffl  nmic  abibis  in  loca?  Ill  canst  thou  bear  the  bitter  blast — 
Pallidula,  rigida,  nudula,  Houseless,  unclad,  affright,  aghast ; 

Ifec,  ut  soles,  dabisjocosl"        Jocundnomore!  and  hush'd  the  mirth 
That  gladden'd  oft  the  sons  of  earth!" 

Nor  unloath  am  I  to  confess  that  such  contemplations  have 
■won  upon  me  in  the  decline  of  years.  Youth  has  its  appro- 
priate pursuits  ;  and  to  him  who  stands  on  the  threshold  of 
life,  with  aU  its  gaieties  and  festive  hours  spread  in  alluring 
blandishment  before  him,  such  musings  may  come  amiss, 
and  such  studies  may  offer  no  attraction.  We  are  then  eager 
to  mingle  in  the  crowd  of  active  existence,  and  to  mix  with 
those  who  swarm  and  jostle  each  other  on  the  molehill  of 
this  world — 

"  Towered  cities  please  us  then. 
And  the  busy  hum  of  men !" 

But  to  me,  numbering  fourscore  years,  and  full  tired  of  the 
frivolities  of  modem  wisdom,  metaphysical  inquiry  returns 
with  all  its  charms,  fresh  as  when  first  I  courted,  in  the 
halls  of  Sorbonne,  the  science  of  the  soul.  On  this  barren 
hill  where  my  lot  is  fallen,  in  that  "  sunset  of  life  "  which  is 
said  to  "  bring  mystical  lore,"  I  love  to  investigate  subjects 
such  as  these. 

"  And  may  my  lamp,  at  midnight  hour, 
Be  seen  in  some  high,  lonely  tower, 
Seeking,  with  Plato,  to  unfold 
What  realms  or  what  vast  regions  hold 
Th'  immortal  soul  that  hath  forsook 
Its  mansion  in  this  fleshy  nook ! 
And  may,  at  length,  my  weary  age 
Knd  out  some  peaceful  hermitage. 
Till  old  experience  doth  attain 
To  something  like  prophetic  strain !" 

To  fix  the  precise  limits  where  sober  reason's  well-regu- 
lated dominions  end,  and  at  what  bourne  the  wild  region  of 
the  fanciful  commences,  extending  in  many  a  tract  of  length- 
ened wilderness  until  it  joins  the  remote  and  volcanic  tern- 


BEAN   swift's   MADITESS.  113 

tory  of  downright  insanity, — were  a  task  wHch  the  most 
deeply-read  psychologist  might  attempt  in  vain.  Hopeless 
would  be  the  endeavour  to  settle  the  exact  confines  ;  for  no- 
where is  there  so  much  debateable  ground,  so  much  un- 
marked frontier,  so  much  \indetermined  boundary.  The 
degrees  of  longitude  and  latitude  have  never  been  laid  down, 
nor,  that  I  learn,  ever  calculated  at  all,  for  want  of  a  really 
sensible  solid  man  to  act  the  part  of  a  first  meridian.  The 
same  remark  is  applicable  to  a  congenial  subject,  viz.  that 
state  of  the  human  frame  akin  to  insanity,  and  called  intoxi- 
cation ;  for  there  are  here  also  various  degrees  of  intensity  ; 
and  where  on  earth  (except  perhaps  in  the  person  of  my 
friend  Dick  Dowden,)  will  you  find,  kolto,  (ppiva  km  xara 
6uf/,ov  a  SOBEE  man,  according  with  the  description  in  a  hymn 
of  our  church  liturgy  ? 

"  Qui  pius,  prudens,  humilU,  pudiens, 
Sobriam  duxit  sine  labe  vitain, 
Ponec  humanos  leris  afflat  aui^ 
Spiritus  ignes." 
Ea;  officio  Brev.  Rom.  de  eommuni  Conf,  non 
Pont,  ad  vesperas. 

I  remember  well,  when  in  1815  the  present  Lord  Chan- 
cellor (then  simple  Harry  Brougham)  came  to  this  part  of 
the  country  (attracted  hither  by  the  fame  of  our  Blarney- 
stone),  having  had  the  pleasure  of  his  society  one  summer 
evening  in  this  humble  dwelling,  and  conversing  with  him 
long  and  loudly  on  the  topic  of  inebriation.  He  had  certainly 
taken  a  drop  extra,  but  perhaps  was  therefore  better  quali- 
fied for  debating  the  subject,  viz.  at  what  precise  point  Srunk- 
enness  sets  in,  and  what  is  the  exact  low  water-ma/rk.  He  first 
advocated  a  three-hottle  system,  but  enlarged"  his  view  of  the 
question  as  he  went  on,  until  he  reminded  me  of  those  spirits 
described  by  Milton,  who  sat  apart  on  a  hiU  retired,  discussi 
ing  freewill,  fioeed  fate,  foreknowledge  absolute, 

"  Aad  found  no  end,  in  wandering  mazes  lost !" 

My  idea  of  the  matter  was  very  simple,  although  I  had  some 
trouble  in  bringing  him  round  to  the  true  understanding 
of  things  ;  for  he  is  obstinate  by  nature,  and,  Uke  the  village 
Hchoolmaster,  whom  he  has  sent  "  abroad," 

"  Even  though  vanquished,  he  can  argue  still." 

I 


114  PATHEE  PEOITT'S   EELIQTTES. 

I  shewed  him  that  the  poet  Lucretius,  in  his  elaborate  work 
"  De  NatuTEl  Eerum,"  had  long  since  established  a  criterion, 
or  standard — a  sort  of  clepsydra,  to  ascertain  the  final  de- 
parture of  sobriety, — being  the  well-known  phenomenon  of 
reduplication  in  the  visual  orb,  that  sort  of  second-sight 
common  among  the  Scotch  : 

"  Bina  luoemarum  flagrantia  lumina  flammis, 
Et  dupHoes  hominam  vnltus  et  corpora  bina !" 

Lttckeiius,  lib.  iv.  452. 

But,  unfortunately,  just  as  I  thought  I  had  placed  my  opinions 
in  their  most  luminous  point  of  view,  I  found  that  poor 
Harry  was  completely  fuddled,  so  as  to  be  unconscious  of  all 
I  could  urge  during  the  rest  of  the  evening ;  for,  as  Tom 
Moore  says  in  '  Lalla  Eookh,' 

"  the  delicate  chain 


Of  thought,  once  tangled,  could  not  clear  again." 

It  has  long  ago  been  laid  down  as  a  maxim  by  Seneca,  that 
•'  nullum  magnum  ingenium  sine  mixture  insanise."  Newton 
was  decidedly  mad  when  he  wrote  his  comment  onEevelations; 
BO,  I  think,  wa's  Napier  of  the  logarithms,  when  he  achieved  a 
similar  exploit ;  Burns  was  more  than  once  labouring  under 
delirium,  of  the  kind  called  tremens ;  Tasso  was  acquainted 
with  the  cells  of  a  madhouse  ;  Nathaniel  Lee,*  the  dramatist, 

*  This  fact  concerning  Lee  I  stumbled  on  in  that  olla  podrida,  the 
"  Curiosities  of  Literature,"  of  the  elder  D'Israeli.  In  his  chapter  on 
the  "  Medicine  of  the  Mind,"  (toI.  i.  second  series  :  Murray,  1823),  I 
find  a  passage  which  tells  for  my  theory ;  and  I  therefore  insert  it  here, 
on  the  principle  of  je  prends  man  Men  partout  oitje  le  trouve :  "  Plutarch 
says,  in  one  of  his  essays,  that  should  the  body  sue  the  mind  in  a  court 
of  judicature  for  damages,  it  would  be  found  that  the  mindwould  prove 
to  have  been  a  most  ruinous  tenant  to  its  landlord."  This  idea  seemed 
to  me  so  ingenious,  that  I  searched  for  it  through  all  the  metaphysical 
writings  of  the  Boeotian  sage ;  and  I  find  that  Demooritus,  the  laughing 
philosopher,  first  made  the  assertion  about  the  Greek  law  of  landlord  and 
tenant  retailed  byhimofCheronsea:  Oijiai  naKiaTaTov ^rjfioicptTov  nirtiv, 
U}Q  H  TO  tTiiifia  diKaffaiTo  Tig  ^v^yt  KaKWffEWf  ovk  av  auTrjv  a:ro0uysi»/. 
Theophrastus  enlarges  on  the  same  topic :  Ofo^paffroj  aXtiBeg  ein-tv, 
vo\v  Ttf  uiafiaTi  TiKttv  evoiKiov  Trjv  i//v%?)V.  llktiova  fjtsvTOi  to  ffwfia 
T7JQ  ipv^VS  airaXavsi  icaieat  fJtri  Kara  Xoyov  airr^  xP^t^^^og.  See  the 
magnificent  edition  of  Plutarch's  Moral  Treatises,  from  the  Clarendon 
press  of  Oxford,  1795,  being  nAOYT.  TA  HBIKA,  torn.  i.  p.  375.— 
Pboct. 


DEAN   SWIPT'S   MADNESS.  115 

when  a  tenant  of  Bedlam,  wrote  a  tragedy  twenty-five  acts 
long ;  and  Sophocles  was  accused  before  the  tribunal  of  the 
(ppuTpia,  and  only  acquitted  of  insanity  by  the  recitation  of 
his  (Edip.  Colon.  Pascal  was  a  miserable  hypochondriac ;  the 
poet  Oowper  and  the  philosopher  Eousaeau  were  subject  to 
lunacy ;  Luis  de  Camoens  died  raving  in  an  hospital  at  Lis- 
bon ;  and,  in  an  hospital  at  Madrid,  the  same  fate,  with  the 
same  attendant  madness,  closed  the  career  of  the  author  of 
"Don  Quixote,"  the  immortal  Miguel  Cervantes.  Shelley 
was  mad  outright ;  and  Byron's  blood  was  deeply  tainted 
with  maniacal  infusion.  His  uncle,  the  eighth  lord,  had  been 
the  homicide  of  his  kindred,  and  hid  hi^  remorse  in  the 
dismal  cloisters  of  JSTewstead.  He  himself  enumerates  three 
of  his  maternal  ancestors  who  died  by  their  own  hands.  Last 
February  (1830),  Miss  Milbanke,  in  the  book  she  has  put 
forth  to  the  world,  states  her  belief  and  that  of  her  advisers, 
that  "  the  Lord  Byron  was  actually  iasane."  And  in  Dr. 
MUlingen's  book  (the  Surgeon  of  the  Suliote  brigade)  we 
find  these  words  attributed  to  the  CMlde :  "  I  picture  myself 
slowly  expiring  on  a  bed  of  torture,  or  terminating  my  days, 
like  Swift,  a  grinning  idiot." — Anecdotes  ofByron'a  Illness  and 
Death,  ly  Julius  Milmngen,  p.  120. — London. 

Strange  to  say,  few  men  have  been  more  exempt  from  the  ■ 
usual  exciting  causes  of  insanity  than  Swift.  If  ambition, 
vanity,  avarice,  intemperance,  and  the  fury  of  sexual 
passion,  be  the  ordinary  determining  agents  of  lunacy,  then 
should  he  have  proudly  defied  the  approaches  of  the  evil 
spirit,  and  withstood  his  attacks.  As  for  ambitious  cravings, 
it  is  well  known  that  he  sought  not  the  smiles  of  the  court, 
nor  ever  sighed  for  ecclesiastical  dignities.  Though  a  church- 
man, he  had  none  of  the  crafty,  aspiring,  and  intriguing 
mania  of  a  "Wolsey  or  a  Mazarin.  By  the  boldness  and  can. 
dour  of  his  vwitings,  he  effectually  put  a  stop  to  that  ecclesi- 
astical preferment  which  the  low-minded,  the  cunning,  and 
the  hypocrite,  are  sure  to  obtain :  and  of  him  it  might  be 
truly  said,  that  the  doors  of  clerical  promotion  closed  while 
the  gates  of  glory  opened. 

But  even  ghry  (mystic  word !),  has  it  not  its  fascinations, 
too  powerful  at  times  even  for  the  eagle  eye  of  genius,  and 
capable  of  dimming  for  ever  the  inteUectual  orb  that  gazea 
too  fixedly  on    its  irradiance  ?    How  often  has  splendid 


116  TATHBE  PEOTJT'S   EELIQUES. 

talent  been  its  own  executioner,  and  the  best  gift  of  Heaven 
supplied  the  dart  that  bereft  its  possessor  of  all  that  maketh 
Existence  valuable !  The  very  intensity  of  those  feelingz 
which  refine  and  elevate  the  soul,  has  it  not  been  found  to 
operate  the  work  of  ruin  ? 

"  Twaa  thine  own  geniu3  gare  the  final  blow. 

And  help'd  to  plant  the  wound  that  laid  thee  low. 
So  the  struck  eagle,  streteh'd  upon  the  plain, 
No  more  through  rolling  clouds  to  soar  again, 
Views  his  own  feather  on  the  fatal  dart 
Which  wing'd  the  shaft  that  quivers  in  his  heart. 
Keen  are  his  pangs,  but  keener  far  to  feel 
He  nursed  tl\e  pinion  that  impeU'd  the  steel ; 
While  the  same  plumage  that  had  warm'd  his  nest 
Drinks  the  last  He-drop  of  his  bleeding  breast." 

So  Byron  sings  in  his  happiest  mood  ;  and  so  had  sung  be- 
fore him  a  young  French  poet,  who  died  in  early  life,  worn 
out  by  his  own  fervour : 

"  Oui,  I'homme  ioi  has  aux  talents  condamn^, 
Sur  la  terre  en  passant  sublime  infortun^, 
Ne  peut  impun^ment  aohever  une  vie 
Que  le  Ciel  surchargea  du  fardeau  du  genie ! 
Souvent  U  meurt  bral6  de  ces  celestes  feux  .  ,  . 
Tel  quelquefois  I'oiseau  du  souverain  des  dieux, 
L'aigle,  tombe  du  haut  des  plaines  immortelles, 
Brile  dufoudre  ardent  qu'il  portait  sous  sea  ailes .'" 

CKEKEVOLht. 

I  am  fully  aware  that  in  Swift's  case  there  was  a  common 
rumour  among  his  countrymen  ia  Ireland  at  the  time,  that 
over-study  and  too  much  learning  had  disturbed  the  equi- 
librium of  the  doctor's  brain,  and  unsettled  the  equipoise  of 
his  cerebellum.  The  "  most  noble  "  Pestus,  who  was  a  weU- 
bred  Italian  gentleman,  fell  into  the  same  vulgar  error  long 
ago  with  respect  to  St.  Paul,  and  opined  that  much  Hteratuie 
had  made  of  him  a  madman !  But  surely  such  a  sad  con- 
fusion of  materialism  and  spiritualism  as  that  misconception 
implies,  will  not  require  refutation.  The  villagers  iu  Q-old- 
smith's  beautiful  poem  may  have  been  excusable  for  adopt- 
ing so  unscientific  a  theory  ;  but  beyond  the  sphere  of  rustic 
sages  the  hypothesis  is  intolerable : 

"  And  still  they  gazed,  and  stiU  their  wonder  grew, 
That  one  small  head  could  carry  all  he  knew !" 


BEAir   SWirT'S   MADNESS.  117 

How  can  the  ethereal  and  incorporate  stores  of  knowledge 
become  a  physical  weight,  and  turn  out  an  incumbrance 
exercising  undue  pressure  on  the  human  brain  ? — how  can 
mental  acquirement  be  described  as  a  body  ponderous  ? 
"What  foUy  to  liken  the  crevices  of  the  cerebral  gland  to  the 
fissures  in  an  old  barn  bursting  with  the  riches  of  a  collected 
harvest ! — rwperimt  horrea  messes — or  to  the  crazy  bark  of 
old  Charon,  when,  being  only  iitted  for  the  light  waftage  of 
ghosts,  it  received  the  bulky  personage  of  the  JEneid : 

"  G-emuit  Bub  pondere  oymba  ! 

Sutilis,  ao  multam  accepit  rimoBa  paludem." — Lib.  vi. 

Away  with  such  fantasies !  The  more  learned  we  grow, 
the  better  organised  is  our  mind,  the  more  prejudices  we 
shake  off ;  and  the  stupid  error  which  I  combat  is  but  a  pre- 
text and  consolation  for  ignorance. 

The  delusions  of  love  swayed  not  the  stem  mind  of  the 
Dean  of  St.  Patrick's,  nor  could  the  frenzy  of  passion  ever 
overshadow  his  clear  understanding.  Like  a  bark  gliding 
along  a  beautiful  and  regular  canal,  the  soft  hand  of  woman 
could,  with  a  single  riband,  draw  him  onward  in  a  fair  and 
well-ordered  channel ;  but  to  drag  him  out  of  his  course  into 
any  devious  path,  it  was  not  in  nature  nor  the  most  potent 
fascination  to  accomplish.  Stella,  the  cherished  companion 
of  his  life,  his  secretly  wedded  bride,  ever  exercised  a  mUd 
influence  over  his  affections — 

"  And  rose,  where'er  he  turned  hia  eye, 
The  morning  star  of  memory." 

But  his  acquaintanceship  with  Vanessa  (Mrs.  Vanhomrigg) 
was  purely  of  that  description  supposedto  have  been  introduced 
by  Plato.  Por  my  part,  having  embraced  celibacy,  I  am 
perhaps  little  qualified  for  the  discussion  of  these  delicate 
matters ;  but  I  candidly  confess,  that  never  did  Goldsmith 
BO  vrin  upon  my  good  opinion,  by  his  superior  knowledge  of 
those  recondite  touches  that  ennoble  the  favourite  character 
of  a  respectable  divine,  as  when  he  attributes  severe  and 
uncompromising  tenets  of  monogamy  to  Dr.  Primrose,  vicar 
of  Wakefield;  that  being  the  next  best  state  to  the  one 


118  FATHEB  PEOTJt's   EELIQUES. 

which  I  have  adopted  myself,  in  accordance  with  the  Flatonio 
philosophy  of  Virgil,  and  the  example  of  Paul ; 

"  Quique  saeerdotea  casti,  dum  vita  manebat ; 
Quique  pii  rates,  et  Phcebo  digna  loeuti ; 
Omnibus  his  nired  cinguntur  tempera  vitA !" 

^mid.  VI. 

The  covetousness  of  this  world  had  no  place  in  the  breast 
of  Swift,  and  never,  consequently,  was  his  mind  liable  to  be 
shaken  from  its  basis  by  the  inroads  of  that  overwhelming 
vice,  avarice.  Broad  lands  and  manorial  possessions  he 
never  sighed  for ;  and,  as  Providence  had  granted  him  a 
competency,  he  could  well  adopt  the  resignation  of  the  poet, 
and  exclaim,  "  Nil  amplius  oro."  Nothing  amused  him  more 
than  the  attempt  of  his  friend  Doctor  Delany  to  excite  his 
jealousy  by  the  ostentatious  display  of  his  celebrated  viQa, 
which,  as  soon  as  purchased,  he  invited  the  Dean  to  come 
and  admire.  We  have  the  humorous  lines  of  descriptive 
poetry  which  were  composed  by  Swift  on  the  occasion,  and 
were  well  calculated  to  destroy  the  doctor's  vanity.  The 
estate  our  satirist  represents  as  liable  to  suffer  "  an  eclipse 
of  the  sun "  wherever  "  a  crow "  or  other  small  opaque 
body  should  pass  between  it  and  that  luminary.  The  plan- 
tations "  might  possibly  supply  a  toothpick ;" 

"  And  the  stream  that's  called  '  Meander 
Might  be  sucked  up  by  a  gander !" 

Such  were  the  sentiments  of  utter  derision  with  which  lie 
contemplated  the  territorial  aggrandisement  so  dear  to  the 
votaries  of  Mammon ;  nor  is  it  foreign  from  this  topic  to 
remark,  that  the  contrary  extreme  of  hopeless  poverty  not 
having  ever  fallen  to  his  lot,  one  main  cause  of  insanity  ia 
high  minds  was  removed.  Tasso  went  mad  through  sheer 
distress  and  its  concomitant  shame  ;  the  fictions  of  his  ro- 
mantic love  for  a  princess  of  the  Court  of  Ferrara  are  all 
fudge :  he  had  at  one  time  neither  fire  nor  a  decent  coat  to 
his  back  ;  and  he  tells  us  that,  having  no  lamp  in  his  garret, 
he  resorted  to  his  cat  to  lend  him  the  glare  of  her  eyes : 

"  Non  avendo  candele  per  iacrivere  i  suoi  versi !" 

Intemperance  and  debauchery  never  mterfered  with  the 


DEAN  SWIEt'S   MADNESS.  119 

quiet  tenour  of  the  Dean's  domestic  habits  ;  and  hence  the 
medical  and  constitutional  causes  of  derangement  flowing 
from  these  sources  must  be  considered  as  null  in  this  case. 
I  have  attentively  perused  the  best  record  extant  of  his 
private  hfe — his  pwn  "  Journal  to  Stella,"  detailing  his 
sojourn  in  London ;  and  I  find  his  diet  to  have  been  such  as 
I  coidd  have  wished. 

"  London,  Oct.  1711. — Mrs.  Vanhomrigg  has  changed  her 
lodgings — I  dined  with  her  to-day.  I  am  growing  a  mighty 
lover  of  herrings  ;  but  they  are  much  smaller  here  than  with 
you.  In  the  afternoon  I  visited  an  old  major-general,  and 
ate  six  oysters." — Letter  32,  p.  384,  in  Scott's  edition  of  Swift. 

"  I  was  invited  to-day  to  diue  with  Mrs.  Vanhomrigg, 
with  some  company  who  did  not  come ;  but  I  ate  nothing 
but  herrings." — Same  letter,  p.  388. 

"  Oct.  23,  1711.  I  was  forced  to  be  at  the  secretary's 
office  till  four,  and  lost  my  dinner.  So  I  went  to  Mrs.Van's, 
and  made  them  get  me  three  herrings,  which  I  am  veryfondof. 
And  they  are  a  light  victuals"  (sic.  in  orig.) — Letter  33,  p.  400. 

He  further  shews  the  lively  interest  he  always  evinced 
for  fish  diet  by  the  following  passage,  which  occurs  in  a  pub- 
lication of  his  printed  in  Dublin,  1732,  and  entitled  "  An 
Examination  of  Certain  Abuses,  Corruptions,  and  Enormi- 
ties  in  this  City  of  DubHn.   By  Dr.  Jonathan  Swift,  D.D." 

"  The  afiirmation  solemnly  made  in  the  cry  of  Herrings  ! 
is  agaiust  all  truth,  viz.  '  Herrings  aUve,  ho !'  The  very  pro- 
verb will  convince  us  of  this  ;  for  what  is  more  frequent  in 
ordinary  speech  than  to  say  of  a  neighbour  for  whom  the 
beU  tolls,  He  is  dead  as  a  herring !  And  pray,  how  is  it 
possible  that  a  herring,  which,  as  philosophers  observe,  can- 
not live  longer  than  one  minute  three  seconds  and  a  half 
out  of  water,  shoxdd  bear  a  voyage  in  open  boats  from 
Howth  to  Dublin,  be  tossed  into  twenty  hands,  and  preserve 
its  life  in  sieves  for  several  hours  ?" 

The  sense  of  Igneliness  consequent  on  the  loss  of  friends, 
and  the  wdthdrawal  of  those  whose  companionship  made  life 
pleasant,  is  not  unfrequently  the  cause  of  melancholy  mono- 
mania ;  but  it  could  not  have  affected  Swift,  whose  residence 
ia  Dublin  had  estranged  him  long  previously  from  those 
who  at  that  period  died  away.  Gay,  his  bosom  friend,  had 
died  in  December,  1732  ;  Boliagbroke  had  retired  to  France 


120  I'ATHEB  PBOTTT'S   EEMQrES. 

in  1734 ;  Pope  was  become  a  hypochondriac  from  bodily  in- 
firmities ;  Dr.  Axbuthnot  was  extinct ;  and  he,  the  admirer 
and  the  admired  of  Swift,  John  of  Blenheim,  the  Ulustrioua 
Maxlborongh,  had  preceded  him  in  a  madhouse ! 

"  Down  Marlborough's  cheeks  the  tears  of  dotage  flow." 

A  lunatic  asylum  was  the  last  refuge  of  the  warrior, — if,  in- 
deed, he  and  his  fellows  of  the  conquering  fraternity  were 
not  candidates  for  it  all  along  iatrinsically  and  profes- 
sionally, 

"  ibrom  Macedonian's  madman  to  the  Swede." 

Thus,  although  the  Dean  might  have  truly  felt  like  one  who 
treads  alone  some  deserted  banquet-hall  (according  to  the 
beautiful  simile  of  the  Melodist),  still  we  cannot,  with  the 
slightest  semblance  of  probability,  trace  the  outbreak  of  his 
madness  to  any  sympathies  of  severed  friendship. 

If  Swift  ever  nourished  a  predominant  affection — if  he 
was  ever  really  under  the  dominion  of  a  ruling  passion,  it 
was  that  of  pure  and  disinterested  love  of  country;  and  were 
he  ever  liable  to  be  hurried  into  insane  excess  by  any  over- 
powering enthusiasm,  it  was  the  patriot's  madness  that  had 
the  best  chance  of  prostrating  his  mighty  soul.  His  works 
are  the  imperishable  proofs  of  the  sincere  and  enlightened 
attachment  which  he  bore  an  island  connected  with  him  by 
no  hereditary  recollections,  but  merely  by  the  accident  of 
his  birth 'at  Cashel. 

We  read  in  the  sacred  Scriptures  (Eccles.  Ixxvii.),  that 
"  the  sense  of  oppression  maketh  a  man  mad ;"  and  whoso- 
ever will  peruse  those  splendid  effusions  of  a  patriot  soul, 
"the  Story  of  an  injured  Lady"  (Dublin,  1725),  "Maxims 
controlled  in  Ireland  "  (Dublin,  1724),  "  Miserable  State  of 
Ireland  "  (Dublin,  1727),  must  arise  from  the  perusal  im- 
pressed with  the  integrity  and  fervour  of  the  Dean's  love  of 
his  oppressed  country.  The  "  Maxims  controlled  "  develop, 
according  to  that  highly  competent  authority,  Edmund 
Burke,  the  deepest  and  most  statesmansUke  views  ever  taken 
ofthe  mischievous  mismanagement  that  has  constantly  marked 
England's  conduct  towards  her  sister  island.  In  the  "Miser- 
able State,  &c.,  we  have  evidence  that  the  wretched  peasantry 
at  that  time  was  at  just  the  same  stage  'of  civilizatiou  and 


BEAU-   swift's   IJABNESS.  121 

Comfort  as  tliej  are  at  the  present  day ;  for  we  find  tho 
Dean  thus  depicting  a  state  of  things  which  none  but  an 
Irish  landlord  could  read  without  blushing  for  human  nature — 
"  There  are  thousands  of  poor  creatures  who  thinkthemselvea 
blessed  if  they  can  obtain  a  hut  worse  than  the  squire's  dog- 
kennel,  and  a  piece  of  ground  for  potato-plantation,  on  con- 
dition of  being  as  very  slaves  as  any  in  America,  starving  in 
the  midst  of  plenty."  I\irther  on,  he  informs  us  of  a  sin- 
gular item  of  the  then  traffic  of  the  Irish : — "  Our  fraiidu- 
lent  trade  in  wool  to  Erance  is  the  best  branch  of  our 
commerce." 

And  in  his  "  Proposal  for  the  Use  of  Irish  Manufactures," 
which  was  prosecuted  by  the  government  of  the  day,  and 
described  by  the  learned  judge  who  sent  the  ease  to  the  jury 
as  a  plot  to  bring  in  the  Pretender !  we  have  this  wool- 
traffic  again  alluded  to :  "  Our  beneficial  export  of  wool  to 
France  has  been  our  only  support  for  several  years :  we  con- 
vey our  wool  there,  in  spite  of  aU  the  harpies  of  the  custom- 
house." In  this  tract,  he  introduces  the  story  of  Pallas  and 
the  nymph  Arachne,  whom  the  goddess,  jealous  of  her  spin- 
ning, changed  into  a  spider;  and  beautifully  applies  the 
allegory  to  the  commercial  restrictions  imposed  by  the  sister- 
country  on  Ireland.  "  Arachne  was  allowed  still  to  spin ; 
but  Britain  wiU.  take  our  bowels,  and  comfert  them  into  the 
web  and  warp  of  her  own  exclusive  and  intolerant  in- 
dustry." 

Of  the  "  Drapier's  Letters,"  and  the  signal  discomfiture 
of  the  base-currency  scheme  attempted  by  William  Woods, 
it  were  superfluous  to  speak.  Never  was  there  a  more  bare- 
faced attempt  to  swindle  the  natives  than  the  copper  impo- 
sition of  that  notorious  hardwareman  ;  and  the  only  thing 
that  in  modem  times  can  be  placed  in  juxtaposition,  is  the 
begging-box  of  O'ConneU.  O  for  a  Drapier  to  expose  that 
second  and  most  impudent  scheme  for  victimising  a  deluded 
and  starving  peasantry ! 

The  Scotch  rebeUion  of  1745  found  the  Dean  an  inmate 
of  his  last  sad  dwelling — ^his  ovm  hospital ;  but  the  crisis 
awakened  all  his  energies,  and  he  found  an  interval  to  pub- 
lish that  address  to  his  fellow-countrymen  which  some  at- 
tributed to  the  Lord-Lieutenant  Chesterfield,  but  which 
bears  intrinsic  evidence  of  his  pen.    It  is  printed  by  Sir 


122  TATHER  PEOn's   EBLIQrES. 

"W.  Scott,  in  the  appendix  of  the  "  Drapier's  Letters." 
There  is  a  certain  chemical  preparation  called  sympathetie 
ink,  which  leaves  no  trace  on  the  paper ;  but  if  applied  to 
the  heat  of  a  fire,  the  characters  will  become  at  once  legible. 
Such  was  the  state  of  Swift's  soul — a  universal  blank ;  but 
when  brought  near  the  sacred  flame  that  burnt  on  the  altar 
of  his  country,  his  mind  recovered  for  a  time  its  clearness, 
and  found  means  to  communicate  its  patriotism.  Touch 
but  the  interests  of  Ireland,  and  the  madman  was  sane 
again ;  such  was  the  mysterious  nature  of  the  visitation. 

"  O  Keason !  who  shall  say  what  spells  renew,  • 

When  least  we  look  for  it,  thy  broken  clue  ; 
Through  what  small  vistas  o'er  the  darken'd  brain 
The  intellectual  daybeam  bursts  again ! 
Enough  to  shew  the  maze  in  which  the  sense 
Wandered  about,  but  not  to  guide  thee  hence — 
Enough  to  glimmer  o'er  the  yawning  wave, 
But  not  to  point  the  harbour  which  might  save !" 

When  Eichard  Coeur  de  Lion  lay  dormant  ia  a  dungeon, 
the  voice  of  a  song  which  he  had  known  in  better  days  came 
uponhisear,andwas  themeans  of  leading  himforthto  light  and 
freedom ;  but,  alas !  Swift  was  not  led  forth  from  his  lonely 
dwelling  by  the  note  of  long-remembered  music,  the  anthem 
of  fatherland.  Gloomy  insanity  had  taken  too  permanent 
possession  of  his  mind ;  and  right  well  did  he  know  that  he 
should  die  a  maniac.  For  this,  a  few  years  before  his  death, 
did  he  build  unto  himself  an  asylum,  where  his  own  lunacy 
might  dwell  protected  from  the  vulgar  gaze  of  mankind.  He 
felt  the  approach  of  madness,  and,  like  Csesar,  when  about 
to  fall  at  the  feetof  Pompey's  statue,  he  gracefully  arranged 
the  folds  of  his  robe,  conscious  of  his  own  dignity  even  in 
that  melancholy  downfal.  The  Pharaohs,  we  are  told  ia 
Scripture,  built  unto  themselves  gorgeous  sepulchres :  theii 
pyramids  stiU  encumber  the  earth.  Sardanapalus  erected  a 
pyre  of  cedar-wood  and  odoriferous  spices  when  death  was 
inevitable,  and  perished  in  a  blaze  of  voluptuousness.  The 
asylum  of  Swift  will  remain  a  more  characteristic  memorial 
than  the  sepulchres  of  Egypt,  and  a  more  honourable  fune- 
real pyre  than  that  heaped  up  by  the  Assyrian  king.  He 
died  mad,  among  feUow- creatures  similarly  visited,  but 
sheltered  by  his  munificence ;  and  it  now  devolves  on  me 


BEAN   swift's   MADNESS.  123 

to  reveal  to  the  world  the  unknown  cause  of  that  sad 
calamity. 

I  have  stated  that  his  affections  were  centered  in  that  ac- 
complished woman,  the  refined  and  gentle  Stella,  to  whom 
he  had  been  secretly  married.  The  reasons  for  such  secrecy, 
though  perfectly  familiar  to  me,  may  not  be  divulged ;  but 
enough  to  know  that  the  Dean  acted  in  this  matter  with  his 
usual  sagacity.  An  infant  son  was  born  of  that  marriage 
after  many  a  lengthened  year,  and  in  this  child  were  con- 
centrated aU  the  energies  of  the  father's  affection,  and  all 
the  BensibHities  of  the  mother's  heart.  In  him  did  the  Dean 
fondly  hope  to  live  on  when  his  allotted  days  should  fail, 
like  unto  the  self-promised  immortality  of  the  bard — "  JSTon 
omnis  moriar,  multaque  pars  mei  vitabit  Libitinam !"  How 
vain  are  the  hopes  of  man !  That  child  most  unaccountably, 
most  mysteriously  disappeared ;  no  trace,  no  clue,  no  shadow 
6f  conjecture,  could  point  out  what  had  become  its  destiny, 
and  who  were  the  contrivers  of  this  sorrowful  bereavement. 
The  babe  was  gone !  and  no  comfort  remained  to  a  despond- 
ing father  in  this  most  poignant  of  human  afflictions. 

In  a  copy  of  Verses  composed  on  his  own  Death,  the  Dean 
indulges  in  a  humorous  anticipation  of  the  motives  that 
would  not  fail  to  be  ascribed,  as  determining  his  mind  to 
make  the  singular  disposal  of  his  property  which  (after  the 
loss  of  his  only  child)  he  resolved  on : 

"  He  gave  the  little  wealth  he  had 
To  build  a  house  for  people  mad, 
To  shew,  by  one  satiric  touch, 
No  nation  wanted  it  so  much." 

But  this  bitter  pleasantry  only  argued  the  sad  inroads  which 
grief  was  making  in  his  heart.  The  love  of  ofispiing,  which 
the  Greeks  caU  tfro^yj)  (and  which  is  said  to  be  strongest 
in  the  stork),  was  eminently  perceptible  in  the  diagnosis 
of  the  Dean's  constitution.  Sorrow  for  the  loss  of  his  child 
bowed  down  his  head  eventually  to  the  grave,  and  unsettled 
a  mind  the  most  clear  and  well-regulated  that  philosophy 
and  Christianity  could  form. 
These  papers  will  not  meet  the  ptjblio  ete  untiit 

I  too  am  no  MOEE  •   BtTT  WHEN  THAT   DAT    SHALL    COMB — 


124  FATHEE  PEOri'S   BELIQUES. 

WHEN  THE  PASTOE  OE  THIS  OBSOTJEE  TTPIAKD  SHALL,  IN  A 
GOOD  OLD  AGE,  BE  LAID  IK  THE  EAETH — WHEN  NEITHEE 
PEIDE  OE  BIETH  NOE  HITMAN  APPLAUSE  OAN  MOTE  THE 
COLD  EAE  OE  THE  DEAD,  THE  SEOEET  OE  THAT  CHILD'S 
HISTOET,  OE  SwIET'S  LONG-LOST  CHILD,  SHALL  BE  TOLD  ; 
AND  THE  OLD  MAN  WHO  HAS  DEPAETBD  EEOM  THIS  WOELD 
OE  WOE  IN  PEACE,  WILL  BE  EODND  TO  HATE  BEEN  THAT 
lONG-SOTIGHT  SON,  WHOM  "WlLLIAM  WoODS,  IN  THE  BASE- 
NESS OE  A  TILE  TINDICTITENESS,  EILCHED  EEOM  A  EATHBE'S 
AEEECTI0N3. 

BaiSed  in  his  wicked  contrivances  by  my  venerable  father, 
and  foiled  in  every  attempt  to  brazen' out  his  notorious  scheme 
of  bad  halfpence,  this  vile  tinker,  nourishiag  an  implacable 
resentment  in  his  soul, 

'  iEtemum  servana  sub  peotore  vukius," 

resolved  to  wreak  his  vengeance  on  the  Dean  ;  and  sought 
out  craftily  the  most  sensitive  part  to  inflict  the  contem- 
plated wound.  In  the  evening  of  October,  1741,  he  kid- 
napped me.  Swift's  innocent  child,  from  my  nurse  at  Grlen- 
dalough,  and  fraudulently  hurried  off  his  capture  to  the 
extremity  of  Munster ;  where  he  left  me  exposed  as  a  found- 
ling on  the  bleak  summit  of  "Watergrasshill.  The  reader 
wiU  easily  imagine  all  the  hardships  I  had  to  encounter  ia 
this  my  first  and  most  awkward  introduction  to  my  future 
parishioners.  Often  have  I  told  the  sorrowful  tale  to  my 
college  companion  in  Trance,  the  kind-hearted  and  sensi- 
tive Gresset,  who  thus  alludes  to  me  iu  the  weU-known  lines 
of  his  "  Lutrin  Vivant :" 

"  Bt  puis,  d'ailleurs,  le  petit  mallieureux, 
Ouvrage  n^  d'un  auteur  anonyme, 
Ne  oonnaisaant  parens,  ni  legitime, 
If  arait,  en  tout  dans  oe  sterile  lien. 
Pour  se  chauffer  que  la  grace  de  Dieu !" 

Some  are  born,  says  the  philosophic  Q-oldsmith,  with  a 
silver  spoon  ia  their  mouth,  some  with  a  wooden  ladle  ;  but 
wretched  I  was  not  left  by  Woods  even  that  miserable  im- 
plement as  a  stock-in-trade  to  begin  the  world.  Moses  lay 
ensconced  in  a  snug  cradle  of  bulrushes  when  he  was  sent 
adrift ;  but  I  was  cast  on  the  flood  of  life  with  no  equipage 


BEAW  s-vvift's  madness.  125 

or  outfit  whatever ;  and  found  myself,  to  use  tte  solemn 
language  of  my  Lord  Byron, 

"  Sent  afloat 
With  nothing  but  the  sty  for  a  great  poat." 

But  stop,  I  mistake.  I  had  an  appendage  round  my  neck 
— a  trinket,  which  I  still  cherish,  and  by  which  I  eventually 
found  a  clue  to  my  real  patronage..  It  was  a  small  locket 
of  my  mother  Stella's  hair,  of  raven  black,  (a  distinctive 
feature  in  her  beauty,  which  had  especially  captivated  the 
Dean)  :  around  this  locket  was  a  Latin  motto  of  my  gifted 
father's  composition,  three  simple  words,  but  beautiful  in 
their  simplicity  — "  pbgtjt  stelia  ebetilges  !"  So  that, 
when  I  was  taken  into  the  "  Cork  Foundling  Hospital,"  I 
was  at  once  christened  "  Prout,"  from  the  adverb  that  begins 
the  sentence,  and  which,  being  the  shortest  word  of  the- 
three,  it  pleased  the  chaplain  to  make  my  future  patro- 
nymic. 

Of  all  the  singular  institutions  in  G-reat  Britain,  philan- 
thropic, astronomic,  Hunterian,  ophthalmic,  obstetric,  or 
zoological,  the  "  Eoyal  Cork  Foundling  Hospital,"  where  I 
had  the  honour  of  matriculating,  was  then,  and  is  now,  de- 
cidedly the  oddest  in  principle  and  the  most  comical  in  prac- 
tice. Until  the  happy  and  eventful  day  when  I  managed, 
by  mother-wit,  to  accomplish  my  deliverance  from  its  walls, 
(having  escaped  in  a  churn,  as  I  will  recount  presently),  it 
was  my  unhappy  lot  to  witness  and  to  endure  all  the  va- 
rieties of  human  misery.  The  prince  of  Latin  song,  when 
he  wishes  to  convey  to  his  readers  an  idea  of  the  lower 
regions  and  the  abodes  of  Erebus,  begins  his  affecting  pic- 
ture by  placing  in  the  foreground  the  souls  of  infants  taken 
by  the  mischievous  policy  of  such  institutions  from  the 
mother's  breast,  and  perishing  by  myriads  under  the  inflic- 
tion of  a  mistaken  philanthropy : 

"  Infantumque  animse  flentea  in  lumine  primo : 
Quos  dulois  vitse  eisortes,  et  ab  ubere  raptos, 
Abstulit  atra  dies,  et  funere  mersit  acerbo." 

The  inimitable  and  philosophic  Scarron's  translation  of  this 
passage  in  the  JEneid  is  too  much  in  my  father's  own  style 
not  to  give  it  insertion : 


126  FATHEE  PEOrT'S  EELIQUES. 

"  Lors  il  entend,  en  oe  lieu  sombre, 
Lea  oris  aiguB  d'enfants  sans  nombre. 
Pauvres  bambins  !  ils  font  grand  bruit, 
Et  braillent  de  jour  et  de  n\ut — 
Peut-tee  faute  de  nourrioe  ?"  &o.  &e. 

Eneid  iravett.  6. 

But  if  I  had  leisure  to  dwell  on  the  melancholy  subject,  I 
could  a  tale  unfold  that  would  startle  the  Legislature,  and 
perhaps  arouse  the  Irish  secretary  to  examine  into  an  evil 
crying  aloud  for  redress  and  suppression.  Had  my  perse- 
.cutor,  the  hard-hearted  coppersmith,  Woods,  had  any  notion 
of  the  sufferings  he  entailed  on  Swift's  luckless  infant,  he 
would  never  have  exposed  me  as  an  enfant  trouvi  ;  he  would 
have  been  satisfied  with  plunging  my  father  into  a  mad- 
house, without  handing  over  his  child  to  the  mercies  of  a 
foundling  hospital.  Could  he  but  hear  my  woful  story,  I 
would  engage  to  draw  "  copper"  tears  down  the  villain's 
cheek. 

Darkness  and  mystery  have  for  the  last  half  century  hung 
over  this  establishment ;  and  although  certain  returns 
have  been  moved  for  in  the  House  of  Commons,  the  public 
knows  as  little  as  ever  about  the  fifteen  hundred  young 
foundlings  that  there  nestle  until  supplanted,  as  death  col- 
lects them  under  his  wings,  by  a  fresh  supply  of  victims 
offered  to  the  Moloch  of  -vJ/EuSo-philanthropy.  Horace  tells 
us,  that  certain  proceedings  are  best  not  exhibited  to  the 
general  gaze — 

"  Neo  natoa  coram  populo  Medea  trucidet." 

Such  would  appear  to  be  the  policy  of  these  institutions, 
the  only  provision  which  the  Legislature  has  made  for  L-ish 
pauperism. 

Some  steps,  however,  have  been  taken  latterly  by  Govern- 
ment ;  and  from  a  paper  laid  before  Parliament  last  month 
(May  1830),  it  appears  that,  in  consequence  of  the  act  of 
1822,  the  annual  admissions  in  Dublin  have  fallen  from  2000 
to  400.  But  who  will  restore  to  society  the  myriads  whoia,, , 
the  system  has  butchered  ?  who  will  recall  the  slain  ?  When 
the  flower  of  Eoman  chivalry,  under  improvident  guidance, 
fell  in  the  Glerman  forests,  "  Varus,  give  back  my  legions !" 


DEAN   swift's   MADNESS.  127 

was  the  frantic  cry  wrung  from  the  bitterness  of  patriotic 
sorrow. 

My  illustrious  father  has  written,  among  other  bitter  sar- 
casms on  the  cruel  conduct  of  Government  towards  the 
Irish  poor,  a  treatise,  which  was  priated  in  1729,  and  which 
he  entitled  "  A  Modest  Proposal  for  preventing  Poor  Chil- 
dren from  being  a  Burden  to  their  Parents."  He  recom- 
mends, in  sober  sadness,  that  they  should  be  made  into  salt 
provisions  for  the  navy,  the  colonies,  and  for  exportation ; 
or  eaten  fresh  and  spitted,  like  roasting-pigs,  by  the  alder- 
men of  Cork  and  Dublin,  at  their  civic  banquets.  A  quo- 
tation from  that  powerful  pamphlet  may  not  be  unaccept- 
able here  : 

"  Infant's  flesh  (quoth  the  Dean)  will  be  in  season  through- 
out the  year,  but  more  plentifully  in  March,  or  a  little  be- 
fore ;  for  we  are  told  by  a  grave  author,  an  eminent  Preneh 
physician,  that  fish  being  a  prolific  diet,  there  are  more  chil- 
dren born  in  Eoman  Catholic  countries  about  nine  months 
after  Lent  than  at  any  other  season.  Therefore,  reckoning 
a  year  after  Lent,  the  markets  will  be  more  glutted  than 
usual,  because  the  number  of  Popish  infants  is  at  least  three 
to  one  in  the  kingdom  ;  and  therefore  it  wiU  have  one  othei 
collateral  advantage,  by  lessening  the  number  of  Papists 
amongst  us." 

These  lines  were  clearly  penned  in  the  very  gall  and  bit- 
terness of  his  soul ;  and  while  the  Irish  peasant  is  still  con- 
sidered by  the  miscreant  landlords  of  the  country  as  less 
worthy  of  his  food  than  the  beasts  of  the  field,  and  less 
entitled  to  a  legal  support  in  the  land  that  bore  him ;  while 
the  selfish  demagogue  of  the  island  joins  in  the  common 
hostility  to  the  claims  of  that  pauper  who  makes  a  stock- 
purse  for  him  out  of  the  scrapings  of  want  and  penury ; 
the  proposal  of  Swift  should  be  reprinted,  and  a  copy  sent 
to  every  callous  and  shallow-pated  disciple  of  modem  poli- 
tical economy.  Poor-laws,  forsooth,  they  cannot  reconcile 
to  their  clear-sighted  views  of  Irish  legislation ;  fever  hos- 
pitals and  gaols  they  admire ;  grammar-schools  they  vaU  ad- 
vocate, where  half-starved  urchins  may  drink  the  physic  of 
the  soul,  and  forget  the  cravings  of  hunger ;  and  they  vrill 
provide  in  the  two  great  foundling  hospitals  a  receptacle  for 
troublesome  infants,  who,  in  those  "  white-washed  sepul- 


128  I'ATHEE  PEO tit's   EELIQtJES. 

chres,"  soon  cease  to  be  a  burden  on  the  communiiy.  The 
great  agitator,  meantime  (Grod  wot !)  will  bring  in  "  a  bill " 
for  a  grand  national  cemetery  in  Dublin  :*  such  is  the  pro- 
vision he  deigns  to  seek  for  his  starving  fellow-countrymen ! 

"  The  great  have  still  some  faTour  in  reserve — 
They  help  to  bury  whom  they  help  to  starve." 

The  Dublin  Hospital  being  supported  out  of  the  consoli- 
dated fund,  has,  by  the  argumentum  ad  crumenam,  at  last 
attracted  the  suspicions  of  government,  and  is  placed  under 
a  course  of  gradual  reduction ;  but  the  Cork  nursery  is  up- 
held by  a  compulsory  local  tax  on  coal,  amounting  to  the 
incredible  sum  of  £6000  a-year,  and  levied  on  the  unfor- 
tunate Corkonians  for  the  support  of  children  brought  into 
their  city  from  Wales,  Connaught,  and  the  four  winds  of 
heaven !  Three  hundred  bantlings  are  thus  annually  saddled 
on  the  beautiful  city,  with  a  never-failing  succession  of  con- 
tinuous supply : 

"  Miranturque  novas  frondes,  et  non  sua  poma !" 
By  the  Irish  act  of  Parliament,  these  young  settlers  are 
entitled,  on  coming  of  age  (which  few  do),  to  claim  as  a 
right  the  freedom  of  that  ancient  and  loyal  corporation ;  so 
that,  although  of  the  great  bulk  of  them  it  may  be  said 
that  we  had  "no  band  in  their  birth,"  they  have  the  bene- 
fit of  their  coming — "  a  place  in  the  commonwealth"  (ita 
Shakespeare). 

My  sagacious  father  used  to  e:^ort  his  countrymen  to 
burn  every  article  that  came  from  England,  except  coals ; 
and  in  1729  he  addressed  to  the  "  Dublin  Weekly  Journal" 
a  series  of  letters  on  the  use  of  Irish  coals  exclusively.  But 
it  strikes  me  that,  as  confessedly  we  cannot  do  without  the 
English  article  in  the  present  state  of  trade  and  manufac- 
tures, the  most  mischievous  tax  that  any  Irish  seaport  could 
be  visited  with,  would  be  a  tonnage  on  so  vital  a  commodity 
to  the  productive  interests  of  the  community.  Were  this 
vUe  impost  withdrawn  from  Cork,  every  class  of  manufac- 
ture would  hail  the  boon ;  the  iron  foundry  would  supply 
us  at  home  with  what  is  now  brought  across  the  Channel ; 
the  glassblower's  furnace  would  glow  with  inextipguishable 
fires ;  the  steam  engine,  that  giant  power,  as  yet  bo  feebly 
*  Historical  fact.    Vide  pari,  proceedings. — O.  Xl 


DEATT  STViri'S   MADITESS.  129 

developed  among  us,  woiild  delight  to  wield  on  our  betalf, 
its  energies  unfettered,  and  toil  unimpeded  for  the  national 
prosperity ;  new  enterprize  would  inspirit  the  capitalist ; 
while  the  humble  artificer  at  the  forge  would  learn  the 
tidings  with  satisfaction, — 

"  Eelax  his  ponderous  strength,  and  lean  to  hear." 

Somethiag  too  much  of  this.  But  I  have  felt  it  incum- 
bent on  me  to  place  on  record  my  honest  conviction  of  the 
impolicy  of  the  tax  itself,  and  of  the  still  greater  enormity 
of  the  evil  which  it  goes  to  support.  To  return  to  my  own 
history. 

In  this  "  hospital,"  which  was  the  first  alma  mater  of  my 
juvenile  days,  I  graduated  in  all  the  science  of  the  young 
gipsies  who  swarmed  around  me.  My  health,  which  was 
naturally  robust,  bore  up  against  the  fearful  odds  of  mor- 
tality by  which  I  was  beset ;  and  although  I  should  have 
ultimately,  no  doubt,  perished  with  the  crowd  of  infant  suf- 
ferers that  shared  my  evil  destiny,  still,  like  that  favoured 
Grecian  who  won  the  good  graces  of  .Polyphemus  in  his  an- 
thropophagous cavern,  a  signal  privilege  ,  would  perhaps 
have  been  granted  me :  Prout  wotud  .have,  been  the  last  to 
be  devoured.  ..  ;  .. 

But  a  ray  of  light  broke  into  my  prison-hcpjse.  The  idea 
of  escape,  a  bold  thought ! .  took  -ppspessipn.  of  ,my  soul.  Tet 
how  to  accomplish  so. daring  an  enterprise?  how  elude  the 
vigilance  of  the  fat  'door-keeper^  and ,  the  keen  eye  of  the 
chaplain  ?  Eight  weU^did  they  know  the  ig._uster,roll  of  their 
stock  of  urchias,  and  often  verified  the  same : 

"  Bisque  die'  numferaut  ambo  peous;  alter  et  hsedos." 
Heaven,'hpwever,  soon  grsinted  what  the  "porter 'demed.  'The 
milkmfe  from  'Watergrasshill,  ■wfho  brdught  th^  supplies 
every  morn  and  eve,  _prided'hiniself  'jtarticulariy'bn  the  size 
and  beauty  of  his  chui-n, — a  capacious  wooden  recipient 
which  my  young  eye  admired  with  more  than  superficial 
curiosity.  HavSig  accidentally  got  on  the  wagon,  and  ex- 
plored the  capacious  hollow  of  the  machine,  a  bright  angel 
whispered  in  my  ear  to  secrete  myself  ia  the  cavity.  I  did 
BO;  and  shortly  after,  the  gates  of  the  hospital  were  flung 
wide  for  my  egress,  and  I  found  myself  ]  egging  onward  on 


130  TATHEE  PEOTJT'S   EELIQTJES. 

the  high  road  to  light  and  freedom !  Judge  of  my  sen- 
sations !  MUton  lias  sung  of  one  who,  "  long  in  populous 
city  pent,"  makes  a  visit  to  Highgate,  and,  snuffing  the 
rural  breeze,  blesses  the  country  air :  my  rapture  was  of  a 
nature  that  defies  description.  To  be  sure,  it  was  one  of 
the  most  boisterous  days  of  storm  and  tempest  that  ever 
Texed  the  heavens ;  but  secure  in  the  churn,  I  chuckled  with 
joy,  and  towards  evening  fell  fast  asleep.  In  my  subsequent 
life  I  have  often  dwelt  with  pleasure  on  that  joyous  escape ; 
and  when  ia  my  course  of  studies  I  met  with  the  following 
beautiful  elegy  of  Simonides,  I  could  not  help  applying  it  to 
myself,  and  translated  it  accordingly.  There  have  been  ver- 
sions by  Denman,  the  Queen's  solicitor  ;*  by  Elton,  by  W. 
Hay,  and  by  Doctor  Jortin  ;  but  I  prefer  my  own,  as  more 
literal  and  more  conformable  to  genuine  Greek  simplicity. 

^t  Hament  of  Haiiat. 

By  Simonides,  the  elegiac  Poet  of  Cos. 

On  "Ka^vtMi  ev  Sai&aXiCf,  avi/ios  » 

Spe/ii  irvim,  xiVTi^siiSa  rs  Xz/ii/a 
Aiifjba,Ti  rigimv,  oud'  adiavroiei 
Jlagiiaii,  a/Jifi  di  ne^gii  ^ot,Xi 
9iXav  %£ga,  eiiriv  tv    Cl  rixog, 
0/01/  i^u  'jrovov  (Su  d'  awrs/j,  yaXaSrivijj  r' 
Jlropi  xvufeiig  iv  arip'jrii  daif/iari, 
XaXxeoyofjbftfi  di  v\i%ri\a,[i/!ni 
Kuavitj)  Ti  dvoipif)-  eu  fi'  auaXiav 
't'lrigBi  Tsav  xo/j-av  ^ahiaii 
llagiovTOS  zu/iaros  oujc  aXsyii;, 
Oud'  avi/iou  (pSoy/wv,  wog^ugscf 
Ji.eifjitivoi  IV  yXavihi,  'jr^oeoiirov  xaXoj. 
E/  fis  Toi  diivov  Toys  biivov  »jv, 
Kai  TiiV  i/mv  prj/iaruv  XiVTOv 
'T<!rii^ei  ouas*   xiXo/j,a,i,  ASi  /3gs(5os, 
EudiTO  di  vovroc,  txihiTO  a/iiTpov  xaxov. 
MaTaioQauXia  di  rig  (p&viiri, 
Zeu  •xan^,  ix  eio'  o  ri  fij)  SapgaXetv 
E*os,  lu^ofi/ot,!  nxvofi  bixag  fj^oi. 

*  Wb  never  employed  him. — RBanJA.   'Twas  Caroline  of  Brunswick. 


BEAK   SWITT's   MADNESS.  181 

CficJLament  of  ^ttlla. 

By  Father  Prout. 

While  round  the  chum,  'mid  sleet  and  rain. 

It  blew  a  perfect  hurricane, 

Wrapt  in  slight  garment  to  prot«ct  her, 

Methought  I  saw  my  mother's  spectre. 

Who  took  her  infant  to  her  breast — 

Me,  the  small  tenant  of  that  chest — 

While  thus  she  lulled  her  babe :  "  How  cruel 

Hare  been  the  !Pates  to  thee,  my  jewel ! 

But,  caring  naught  for  foe  or  scoffer. 

Thou  sleepest  in  this  milky  coffer, 

Cooper'd  with  brass  hoops  weather-tight, 

Impervious  to  the  dim  moonlight. 

The  shower  cannot  get  in  to  soak 

Thy  hair  or  little  purple  cloak ; 

Heedless  of  gloom,  in  dark  sojourn, 

Thy  face  illuminates  the  churn ! 

Small  is  thine  ear,  wee  babe,  for  hearing, 

But  grant  my  prayer,  ye  gods  of  Erin ! 

And  may  folks  find  that  this  young  fellow 

Does  credit  to  his  mother  Stella." 


No.  V. 


THE   BOGTJEEIES    03?   TOM   MOOEE. 

ifftom  t^t  3Prout  iSaperS. 

"  Grata  carpendo  thyma  per  laborem 
Plurimum,  circa  nemus*  uvidique 
Tiburis  ripas,  operosa  paetits  ' 
Carmina  flngo." 

QUINTUS  HOEATITTS  I'lACCtTS. 

"  By  taking  time,  and  some  advice  from  Prout, 
A  polish'd  book  of  songs  I  hammered  out ; 
But  still  my  Muse,  for  she  the  fact  confesses, 
Haunts  that  sweet  hiU,  renown'd  for  water-cresses." 

Thomas  L.  Moobe. 

When  the  star  of  Father  Prout  (a  genuine  son  of  the  ae- 
*  t,  e.  Blameum  nemus. 


132  FATHEE  PEOUT'S  EELIQUES. 

complished  Stella,  and  in  himself  the  most  eccentric  lumi- 
nary that  has  of  late  adorned  our  planetary  system)  first 
rose  in  the  firmament  of  literature,  it  deservedly  attracted 
the  gaze  of  the  learned,  and  riyeted  the  eye  of  the  sage.  We 
know  not  what  may  have  been  the  sensation  its  appearance 
created  in  foreign  countries, — at  the  Observatoire  Eoyal  of 
Paris,  in  the  Val'd'Arno,  or  at  Eeaol^  where,  in  Milton's 
time,  the  sons  of  Galileo  plied  the  untiring  telescope  to  de- 
scry new  heavenly  phenomena,  "  rivers  or  mountains  in  the 
shadowy  moon," — but  we  can  vouch  for  the  impression 
made  on  the  London  University ;  for  all  Stinkomalee  hath 
been  perplexed  at  the  apparition.  The  learned  Chaldeans 
of  Gower  Street  opine  that  it  forebodes  nothing  good  to  the 
cause  of  "useful  knowledge,"  and  they  watch  the  "tran- 
sit "  of  Prout,  devoutly  wishing  for  his  "  exit."  With  throb- 
bing anxiety,  night  after  night  has  Dr.  Lardner  gazed  on  the 
sinister  planet,  seeking,  vrith  the  aid  of  Dr.  Babbage's  calcu- 
lating machine,  to  ascertain  the  probable  period  of  its  final 
eclipse,  and  often  muttering  its  name,  "  to  tell  how  he  hates 
its  beams."  He  has  seen  it  last  April  shining  conspicu- 
ously in  the  constellation  of  Pisces,  when  he  duly  conned 
over  the  "  Apology  for  Lent,"  and  the  Doctor  has  reported 
to  the  University  Board,  that,  "  advancing  with  retrograde 
movement  in  the  zodiac,"  this  disastrous  orb  was  last 
perceived  in  the  milky  way,  entering  the  sign  of  "  Amphora," 
or  "  the  chum."  But  what  do  the  public  care,  while  the 
general  eye  is  delighted  by  its  irradiance,  that  a  few  owls 
and  dunces  are  scared  by  its  efiulgency  ?  The  Georgium 
Sidus,  the  Astrium  JuUum,  the  Soleil  d'AusterUtz,  the  Star 
at  Yauxhall,  the  Nose  of  Lord  Chancellor  Vaux,*  and  the 

*  The  following  BOng  was  a  favourite  with  the  celebrated  Chancellor 
d'Agueaseau.  It  is  occasionally  snag,  in  oxir  own  times,  by  a  modem 
performer  on  the  woolsack,  in  the  intervals  of  business  j 

"  Sit6t  qae  la  lumi^re 
Kedore  nos  cdteaux, 
Je  commence  ma  carriere 
Par  visiter  mes  tonneaux. 

Eavi  de  revoir  I'aurore, 

Le  verre  en  main,  je  lui  dia, 
Vois-fu  done  plus,  chez  le  Maure, 

Que  svr  man  nez,  de  ruhis  f" 


Sfei^ft- 


r 


Jj'VSJ'-i 


^  ^  ^. 


^  .     cA.  a  ii.  ^^  4__ 


THE   EOGTJEEIES   OE   TOM  MOOEE.  133 

grand  Eoman  Grirandola  sliot  off  from  the  mole  of  Adrian, 
to  tlie  annual  delight  of  modern  "  Quirites,"  are  all  fine 
things  and  rubicund  in  their  generation;  hut  nothing  to  the 
star  of  Watergrasshill..  Nor  is  astronomical  science  or  pyro- 
technics- the  only  depaa?tment  of'  philosophy  that  has  been 
influenced  by  this  extraordinary  meteor— -the  kindred  study 
of  GASTEonoiny  has  derived  the  hint  of  a-  new  Combination 
from  its  inspiring  ray ;  and,  after  a  rapid  perusal  of  "  Front's 
Apology  for  Fish,"  the  celebrated  Monsieul"-  Tide,  whom 
Croquis  has  so  exquisitely  delineated  in  the  gallery  of  Re- 
GiNA,  has  invented  on  the  spotan,  original  sauce,  a  novel 
obsonium,  more  especially  adapted  to  cod  and-  turbot,  to 
which  he  has  given  the  reverend  father's  nalme  ;  so  that  Sir 
William  Curtis  will  be  found  eating  his  "  turbot  a  la  Prbut " 
as  constantly  as  his  "  cotelette-  k  la  Maintenon;"  The  fasci- 
nating Miss  Landon  has  had  her  fair  name  affixed  to  a  frozen 
lake  in  the  map  of  Captain  Boss's  discoveries ;  and  if  Prout 
be  not  equally  fortunate  in  winning  terraqueous  renown 
with  his  pen,  ("  Nititur  penuEi  vitreo  daturus  nomina 
ponto"),  he  will  at  least  figure  on  the  "carte"  at  our 
neighbour  Verey's. 

Who  can  tell  vrhat  posthumous  destinies  await  the  late 
incumbent  of  Watergrasshill  ?  In  truth,  his  celebrity  (to 
use  an  expression  of  Edmund  Burke)  is  as  yet  but  a  "  speck 
in  the  horizon— -a  smaU  seminal  principle,  rather  than  a 
formed  body ;"  and  when,  in  the  disemboguing  of  the  chest, 
in  the  evolving  of  his  MSS.,  he  shall  be  unfolded  to  the  view 
in  all  his  dimensions,  developing  his  proportions  in  a  gor- 
geous shape  of  matchless  originality  and  grandeur;  then  will 
be  the  hour  for  the  admirers  of  the  beautiful  and  the  vota-, 
pies  of  the  sublime  to  hail  him  with  becoming  veneration, 
and  welcome  him  vrith  the  sound  of  the  cornet,  flute,-  harp, 
sackbut,  psaltery,  and  dulcimer,  and  all  kinds  of  music. — 
(Dan.  viii.  15.) 

"  Then  shall  the  reign  of  mind  commence  on  earth, 
And,  starting  fresh,  as  from  a  second  birth, 
Man,  in  the  sunshine  of  the  world's  new  spring, 
Shall  walk  transparent,  like  some  holy  thing  ! !  t 
Then,  too,  your  prophet  from  his  angel-brow 
Shall  cast  the  veil  that  hides  its  splendour  now, 
And  gladden'd  eai-th  shall,  through  her  wide  expanse, 
■"-"Mn  the  glories  of  lus  countenance !" 


134  FATHEE  PEOTTT'S   EBLIQIJES. 

The  title  of  this  second  paper  taken  from  the  Prout  Col- 
lection is  enough  to  indicate  that  we  are  only  firing  off  the 
sniall  arms — the  pop-guns  of  this  stupendous  arsenal,  and 
that  we  reserve  the  heavy  metal  for  a  grander  occasion,  when 
the  Whig  ministry  and  the  dog-days  shall  be  over,  and  a 
merry  autumn  and  a  "Wellington  administration  shall  mellow 
our  October  cups.  To  talk  of  Tom  Moore  is  but  small 
talk — "  in  tenui  labor,  at  tenuis  non  gloria ;"  for  Prout's 
great  art  is  to  magnify  what  is  little,  and  to  fling  a  dash  of 
the  sublime  into  a  two-penny-post  communication.  To  use 
Tommy's  own  phraseology,  Prout  could,  with  great  ease  and 
comfort  to  himself, 

"  Teach  an  old  cow  pater-noster, 
And  whistle  MoU  Koe  to  a  pig." 

But  we  have  another  reason  for  selecting  this  "  Essay  on 
Moore  "  from  the  papers  of  the  deceased  divine.  We  have 
seen  with  regret  an  effort  made  to  crush  and  annihilate  the 
young  author  of  a  book  on  the  "  Round  Towers  of  Ireland," 
with  whom  we  are  not  personally  acquainted,  but  whose 
production  gave  earnest  of  an  ardent  mind  bent  on  abstruse 
and  recondite  studies ;  and  who,  leaving  the  frivolous  bou- 
doir and  the  drawing-room  coterie  to  lisp  their  ballads  and 
retail  their  Epicurean  gossip  unmolested,  trod  alone  the 
craggy  steeps  of  venturous  discovery  in  the  regions  of  Ori- 
ental learning ;  whence,  returning  to  the  isle  of  the  west, 
the  "  lEan  of  the  fire- worshipper,"  he  trimmed  his  lamp,  well 
fed  vrith  the  fragrant  oil  of  these  sunny  lands,  and  penned  a 
work  which  wiU  one  day  rank  among  the  most  extraordinary 
of  modem  times.  The  "Ediaburgh  Review"  attempted, 
long  ago,  to  stile  the  unfledged  muse  of  Byron ;  these  trucu- 
lent northerns  would  gladly  have  bruised  in  the  very  shell 
the  young  eagle  that  afterwards  tore  with  his  lordly  talons 
both  Jeffery  and  his  colleague  Moore  (of  the  leadless  pistol), 
who  were  glad  to  wax  subservient  slaves,  after  being  impo- 
tent bullies.  The  same  review  undertook  to  cry  down 
Wordsworth  and  Coleridge  ;  they  shouted  their  vulgar 
"  crucifigatur "  against  Robert  Southey ;  and  seemed  to 
have  adopted  the  motto  of  the  French  club  of  witlings, 

"Nul  n'atrra  de  I'eBprit  que  nous  et  nos  amis." 

But  in  the  present  case  they  wiU  find  themselves  equally 


THE   SOGTTEHIES   OE   TOM  MOOEE.  135 

impotent  for  evil :  O'Brien  may  defy  tham.  He  may  defy 
his  own  alma  mater,  the  silent  and  unproductive  Trin.  Coll. 
Dub. ;  he  may  defy  the  Eoyal  Irish  Academy,  a  learned  as- 
sembly, which,  alas !  has  neither  a  body  to  be  kicked,  nor  a 
sold  to  be  damned ;  and  may  rest  secure  of  the  applause 
which  sterling  merit  challenges  from  every  freeborn  inhabi- 
tant of  these  islands,-^ 

"  Save  wHere,  from  yonder  iTy-mantled  tower, 
The  moping  owl  does  to  the  moon  complain 
Of  those  who,  venturing  near  her  silent  bower, 
Molest  her  ancient  soUtary  reign.'* 

Moore— (we  beg  his  pardon) — the  reviewer,  asserts  that 
O'Brien  is  a  plagiary,  and  pilfered  his  discovery  from  "  Nim- 
rod."  Now  we  venture  to  offer  a  copy  of  the  commentaries 
of  ComeUus  a  Lapide  (which  we  find  in  Prout's  chest)  to 
Tom,  if  he  will  shew  us  a  single  passage  in  "  Nimyod"  (which 
we  are  confident  he  never  read)  warranting  his  assertion. 
But,  apropos  of  plagiarisms ;  let  us  hear  the  prophet  of 
"WatergrasshiU,  who  enters  largely  on  the  subject. 

OLIYEE  TOEKE. 

Regent  Street,  1st  August,  1834. 


WafergrassMl,  Feb.  1834. 

That  notorious  tinker,  WiUiam  "Woods,  m]^^!^!  have  re- 
corded among  the  papers  in  my  coffer  somewherf  j  %  !ft)ite 
my  Ulustrious  father,  kidnapped  me  in  my  childhood,  little 
dreamt  that  the  infant  Prout  would  one  day  emerge  from 
the  Eoyal  Cork  Foundliag  Hospital  as  safe  and  unscathe(d 
as  'the  children  firom  Nebuchadnezzar's  furnace,  to  hold  up 
his  villany  to  the  execration  of  mankind : 

"  Non  sine  Dis  animosus  infans !" 

Among  the  Eomans,  whoever  stole  a  child  was  liable  by 
law  to  get  a  sound  flogging  ;  and  ss  plaga  in  Latin  means  a 
ttripe,  or  lash,  kidnappers  in  Cicero's  time  were  called  plagu 
aril,  or  cat-o' -nine-tail-villains.  J.  approve  highly  of  this  law 
of  the  twelve  tables ;  but  perhaps  my  judgment  is  biassed, 


136  FATHEE  PEOUT'S   EELIQXTES. 

and  I  Bkould  be  an  unfair  juror  to  give  a  verdict  in  a  case 
which,  comes  home  to  my  own  feelings  so  poignantly.  The 
term  plagiary  has  since  been  applied  metaphorically  to  lite- 
rary shop-lifterB  and  book-robbers,  who  stuff  their  pages 
with  other  men's  goods,  and  thrive  on  indiscriminate  pillage. 
This  is  justly  considered  a  high  misdemeanour  in  the 
republic  of  letters,  and  the  lash  of  criticism  is  unsparingly 
dealt  on  pickpockets  of  this  description.  Among  the  Latins, 
Martial  is  the  only  classic  author  by  whom  the  term  plagi- 
arius  is  used  in  the  metaphorical  sense,  as  applied  to  litera- 
ture ;  but  surely  it  was  not  because  the  practice  only  began 
in  his  time  that  the  word  had  not  been  used  even  in  the 
Augustan  age  of  Eome.  Be  that  as  it  may,  we  first  find 
the  term  in  Martial's  Epigrams  (lib.  i.  epigr.  53)  :  talking 
of  his  verses,  he  says, 

"  Bicas  esse  meos,  mauuque  miasos : 
Hoe  si  terque  quaterque  clamit^ris, 
tmpones  plagiario  pudorem." 

Cicero  himself  was  accused  by  the  Greeks  of  pilfering  whole 
passages,  for  his  philosophical  works,  from  the  scrolls  of 
Athens,  and  cooking  up  the  fragments  and  broken  meat  of 
Greek  orations  to  feed  the  hungry  barbarians  of  the  iRomaa 
forum.  My  authority  is  that  excellent  critic  St.  Jerome, 
who,  in  the».".!^pemium  jn  qu.  Heb.  lib.  Genesis,"  distinctly 
say^  "  Ci|C^  repCTundarum  accusatur  d  Grsecis,"  &c.  &c. ; 
ailffiil±lrelRtiP|fe,ftage  he  adds,  that  Virgil  being  accused 
of  ipil^||fc-hole  similes  from  Homer,  gloried  in  the  theft, 
*xcMiBM^,  "  Think  ye  it  nothing  to  wrest  his  club  from 
Hercules  ?"  (it  ibidem.)  Vide  S"'  Hieronymi  Opera,  tom. 
iv.  fol.  90.  But  what  shall  we  say  when  we  find  Jerome  ac- 
cusing another  holy  father  of  plagiarism  ?  Verily  the  tempt- 
ation must  have  been  very  great  to  have  shaken  the  probity 
of  St.  Ambrose,  when  he  pillaged  his  learned  brother  in  the 
faith,  Origen  of  Alexandria,  by  wholesale.  "  Nuper  Sanctus 
Ambrosius  Heiaemeron  iUius  compilavit "  (S'"'Hieronymi 
Opera,  tom.  iii.  fol.  87,  in  epistold  ad  Pammach).  It  is  well 
known  that  Menander  and  Aristophanes  were  mercilessly 
pillaged  by  Terence  and  Plautus ;  and  the  Latin  freebooters 


THE   EO&TJEEIES   01"  TOM   MOOBE.  137 

thought  nothing  of  stopping  the  Thespian  waggon  on  the 
highways  of  Parnassus.  The  Trench  dramatists  are  simi- 
larly waylaid  by  our  scouts  from  the  green-room, — and  the 
plunder  is  awful !  What  is  Talleyrand  about,  that  he  can- 
not protect  the  property  of  the  Trench  ?  Perhaps  he  is  better 
employed  ? 

I  am  an  old  man,  and  have  read  a  great  deal  in  my  time — 
being  of  a  quiet  disposition,  and  having  always  had  a  tast® 
for  books,  which  I  consider  a  great  blessing ;  but  latterly  I 
find  that  I  may  dispense  with  further  perusal  of  printed 
volumes,  as,  unfortunately,  memory  serves  me  but  too  weU ; 
and  all  I  read  now  strikes  me  as  but  a  new  version  of  what 
I  had  read  somewhere  before.  Plagiarism  is  so  barefaced 
and  so  .universal,  that  I  can't  stand  it  no  longer :  I  have 
shut  up  shop,  and  won't  be  taken  in  no  more.  Qucere  pere- 
grinum?  clamo.  I'm  sick  of  hashed-up  works,  and  loathe 
the  haked  meats  of  antiquity  served  in  a  fricassee.  Grive  me 
a  solid  joint,  in  which  no  knife  has  been  ever  fleshed,  and  I 
will  share  your  intellectual  banquet  most  willingly,  were  it 
but  a  mountain  kid,  or  a  limb  of  "Welsh  mutton.  Alas ! 
whither  shall  I  turn  ?  Let  me  open  the  reyiews,  and  lo !  the 
critics  are  but  repeating  old  criticisms ;  let  me  fly  to  the 
poets,  'tis  but  the  old  lyre  with  catgut  strings ;  let  me  hear 
the  orators, — "  that's  my  thunder !"  says  the  ghost  of  Sheri- 
dan or  the  spectre  of  Burke ;  let  me  listen  to  the  sayers  of 
good  things,  and  alas  for  the  injured  shade  of  Joe  MiUer ! 
Icoidd  go  through  the  whole  range  of  modern  authors  (save 
Scott,  and  a  few  of  that  kidney),  and  exclaim,  with  more 
truth  than  the  chieftain  of  the  crusaders  in  Tasso — 

"  Di  ohi  di  voi  non  so  la  patria  e  '1  seme  ? 
Qual  spada  m'  S  ignota  ?  e  qual  saetta, 
Benche  per  1'  aria  ancor  sospesa  treme, 
Non  saprei  dip  s'  fe  Pranca,  o  s'  &  d'Irlanda, 
E  qliale  appunto  il  braecio  6  che  la  manda  ?" 

Gerusal.  Liber,  canto  xx.  st.  18. 

To  state  the  simple  truth,  such  as  I  feel  it  in  my  own 
conviction,  I  declare  that  the  whole  mass  of  contemporary 
scribblement  might  be  bound  up  in  one  tremendous  volume, 
and  entitled  "  Elegant  Extracts ;"  for,  if  you  except  the  form 
and  style,  the  varnish  and  colour,  all  the  rest  is  what  I  have 


138  FATHEE  PBOTJT'S   EEMQITES. 

known  in  a  different  shape  forty  years  ago ;  and  there  ifi 
more  philosophy  than  meets  the' vulgar  eye  in  that  excellent 
song  on  the  transmutation  of  things  here  below,  which  per- 
petually offer  the  same  iutrinsic  substance,  albeit  under  a 
different  name : 

"  Dear  Tom,  this  brown  jug,  which  now  foams  with  nuld  ale. 
Was  ouoe  Toby  Philpot,  a  merry  old  soul,"  &c.  &o. 

This  transmigration  of  intellect,  this  metempsychosis  of 
literature,  goes  on  silently  reproducing  and  reconstructing 
what  had  gone  to  pieces.  But  those  whose  memory,  like 
mine,  is  unfortunately  over-tenacious  of  its  young  impres- 
sions, cannot  enjoy  the  zest  of  a  twice-told  tale,  and  conse- 
quently are  greatly  to  be  pitied. 

It  has  lately  come  out  that  "  ChUde  Harolde  "  (like  other 
naughtychildren  whom  we  dailyread  of  as  terminating^heir  "Ufe 
in  London  "  by  being  sent  to  the  "Euryalus  hulk,")  was  given 
to  picking  pockets.  Mr.  Beckford,  the  author  of  "  Vathek," 
and  the  builder  of  PonthiU  Abbey,  has  been  a  serious  sufferer 
by  the  Childe's  depredations,  and  is  now  determined  to  pub- 
lish his  case  in  the  shape  of  "  Travels,  in  1787,  through  Por- 
tugal, up  the  Rhine,  and  through  Italy;"  and  it  also  appears 
that  Saml.  Rogers,  in  his  "  Italy,"  has  learned  a  thing  or 
two  from  the  "  Bandits  of  Terracina,"  and  has  divalisi  Mr. 
Beckford  aforesaid  on  more  than  one  occasion  in  the  Apen- 
nines. I  am  not  surprised  at  all  this :  murder  will  out ;  and 
a  stolen  dog  will  naturally  nose  out  his  original  and  primi^ 
tive  master  among  a  thousand  on  a  race-course. 

These  matters  may  be  sometimes  exaggerated,  and  (honour 
bright !)  far  be  it  from  me  to  pull  the  stool  from  under  every 
poor  devH  that  sits  down  to  write  a  book,  and  sweep  away,  with 
unsparing  besom,  aU  the  cobwebs  so  industriously  woven 
across  Paternoster  How.  I  don't  wish  to  imitate  Father 
Hardouin,  the  celebrated  Jesuit,  who  gained  great  renown 
among  the  wits  of  Louis  XlVth's  time  by  his  paradoxes. 
A  favourite  maggot  hatched  in  his  prolific  brain  was,  that  the 
Odes  of  Horace  never  were  written  by  the  friend  of  Mecaenas, 
but  were  an  imposture  of  some  old  Benedictine  monk  of  the 
twelfth  century,  who,  to  amuse  his  cloistered  leisure,  per- 
sonated Placcus,  and  under  his  name  strung  together  those 
lyrical  effusions.  This  is  maintained  in  a  large  folio,  printed 


THE   EOaiTEEIES   01'   TOM   MOOEE.  139 

at  Amsterdam  in  1733,  viz.  "  Harduini  Opera  Varia,  ■^ludo- 
Horatius."  One  of  his  arguments  is  drawn  from  the  Chris- 
Uan  allusions  which,  he  asserts,  occur  so  frequently  in  these 
Odes :  ex.  graiid,  the  "  praise  of  celibacy ;" 

"  Hatauusque  coelebs 
Evincit  ulmos  j" 

Lib.  ii.  ode  15. 

for  the  elm-tree  used  to  be  married  to  the  vine  ;  not  so  the 
sycamore,  as  any  one  who  has  been  ia  Italy  must  know.  The 
rebuilding  of  the  temple  by  Julian  the  Apostate  is,  accord- 
ing to  the  Jesuit,  thus  denounced : 

"  Sed  belHoosis  fata  Quiritibua 
H^  lege  dioo,  ne  nimiiun  pii, 
Teota  velint  reparare  Trojae." 

Lib.  iii.  Ode  3. 

Again,  the  sacred  mysteries  of  the  Lord's  Supper,  and  the 
concealed  nature  of  the  bread  that  was  broken  among  the  pri- 
mitive Christians : 

■  "  Vetabo,  qui  Cereris  sacrum 


Vulg4rit  arcana,  sub  iisdem 
Sit  trabibus,  fcagilemTe  mecum 

Solrat  phaselum"  (i.e.  the  barJc  of  Peter). 
Lib.  iii.  ode  2, 

And  the  patriarch  Joseph,  quoth  Hardouin,  is  clearly  pointed 
out  under  the  strange  and  un-Eoman  name  of  Proculeius,  of 
whom  pagan  history  says  naught : 

"  Vivet  extento  Proculeius  sero, 
Notus  infratrea  animi  paterni!" 

Lib.  ii,  ode  2. 

For  the  rest  of  Hardouin's  discoveries  I  must  refer  to  the 
work  itself,  as  quoted  above ;  and  I  must  in  fairness  add, 
that  his  other  literary  efforts  and  deep  erudition  reflect  the 
highest  credit  on  the  celebrated  order  to  which  he  belonged 
— the  Jesuits,  and,  I  may  add,  the  Benedictines  being  as 
distiact  and  as  superior  bodies  of  monastic  men  to  the  re- 
maining tribes  of  cowled  coenobites  as  the  Brahmius  in  India 
'are  to  the  begging  Farias.* 

*  Father  Hardouin,  who  died  at  Paris  3rd  Sept.  1729,  was  one  of 
the  many  high  ornaments  of  the  society  and  the  century  to  which  he 


140  TATHEE  PEOUT'S  EELIQrES. 

There  is  among  the  lyric  poems  of  the  lower  Irish  a  very 
remarkable  ode,  the  authorship  of  which  has  been  ascribed 
to  the  very  Eev.  Eobert  Burrowes,  the  mild,  tolerant,  and 
exemplary  Dean  of  St.  Finbarr's  Cathedral,  Cork,  whom  I 
am  proud  to  call  my  friend :  it  refers  to  the  last  tragic  scene 
in  the  comic  or  melodramatic  life  of  a  Dublin  gentleman, 
whom  the  above-mentioned  excellent  divine  accompanied  in 
his  ministerial  capacity  to  the  gallows  ;  and  nothing  half  so 
characteristic  of  the  genuiue  Irish  recklessness  of  death  was 
ever  penned  by  any  national  Labruyfere  as  that  incompar- 
able elegy,  begioning — 

"  The  night  before  Larry  was  stretched,. 
The  boys  they  all  paid  him  a  visit,"  &c. 

Now,  were  not  this  fact  of  the  clerical  authorship  of  a  most 
BubUme  Pindaric  composition  chronicled  in  these  papers, 
some  future  Hardouin  would  arise  to  unsettle  the  belief  of 
posterity,  and  the  claim  of  my  friend  Dean  Burrowes  would 
be  overlooked ;  while  the  songster  of  Turpia  the  highway-r 
man,  the  illustrious  author  of  "  Eookwood,"*  would  infal- 
libly be  set  dowh  as  the  writer  of  "  Larry's"  last  hornpipe. 
But  let  me  remark,  en  passant,  that  in  that  interesting  depart- 
ment of  literature  "  slang  songs,"  Ireland  enjoys  a  proud 
and  lofty  pre-eminence  over  every  European  country :  her 
musa pedestris,  or  "footpad poetry,"  being  unrivalled;  and,  as 
it  is  observed  by  Tacitus  (in  his  admirable  work  "  De  Mori- 
bus  Grermanorum")  of  the  barbarians  on  the  Ehine — the 
native  Irish  find  an  impulse  for  valorous  deeds,  and  a  com- 
fort for  all  their  tribulations,  in  a  song. 

belonged.  His  Collection  of  the  Councils  ranks  among  the  most  ela- 
borate efforts  of  theological  toil,  "  Concil.  Collect.  Eegia,"  15  vols. 
foUo,  Paris,  1715.  The  best  edition  extant  of  the  naturalist  Pliny  is 
his  (m  usum  Delphini),  and  displays  a  wondrous  range  of  reading.  He 
was  one  of  the  witty  and  honest  crew  of  Jesuits  who  conducted  that 
model  of  periodical  criticism,  the  "Journal  de  Tr^vous."  Bishop 
Atterbury  of  Kochester  has  written  his  epitaph ; 
"  Hie  jacet  Petros  Harduinvs, 
Hominum  paradoxotatos,  vir  summee  memorice. 

Judicium  expeotaus."  Peotjt. 

*  Prout  must  have  enjoyed  the  gift  of  prophecy,  for  "  Eookwood" 
was  not  pubhshed  till  four  months  after  his  death  at  Watergrasshill. 
Perhaps  Mr.  Ainsworth  submitted  his  embryo  romance  to  the  priest's 
inspoctiou  when  he  went  to  kiss  the  stone. — 0.  Y. 


(THE   EOarEEIES   Or   TOM  MOOEE.  141 

Many  folks  lite  to  write  anonymously,  others  posthu- 
mously, others  under  an  assumed  name  ;  and  for  each  of  these 
methods  of  conveying  thought  to  our  feUow-men  there  may 
be  assigned  sundiy  solid  reasons.  But  a  man  should  never 
be  ashamed  to  avow  his  writings,  if  called  on  by  an  injured 
party,  aaid  I,  for  one,  wiU  never  shrink  from  that  avowal. 
If,  as  my  friend  O'Brien  of  the  Bound  Towers  tells  me, 
Tom  Moore  tried  to  run  him  down  in  the  "  Edinburgh  Ee- 
view,"  after  holding  an  unsuccessful  negotiation  with  him 
for  his  services  in  compiling  a  joint-stock  history  of  Ireland, 
why  did  not  the  man  of  the  pwper  lullet  fire  a  fair  shot  in 
his  own  name,  and  court  the  publicity  of  a  dirty  job,  which 
done  in  the  dark  can  lose  nothing  of  its  infamy  ?  Dr.  John- 
son teUs  us  that  Bolingbroke  wrote  in  his  old  age  a  work 
against  Christianity,  which  he  hadn't  the  courage  to  avow 
or  publish  in  his  lifetime ;  but  left  a  sum  of  money  in  his 
will  to  a  hungry  Scotchman,  MaUet,  on  condition  of  print- 
ing in  his  own  name  this  precious  production.  "  He  loaded 
the  pistol,"  says  the  pious  and  learned  lexicographer,  "  but 
made  Sawney  puU  the  trigger."  Such  appear  to  be  the 
tactics  of  Tommy  in  the  present  instance  :  but  I  trust  the 
attempt  wiU.  fail,  and  that  this  insidious  missile  darted 
against  the  towers  of  O'Brien  will  prove  a  "  telum  imbelle, 
sine  ictu." 

The  two  most  original  writers  of  the  day,  and  also  the 
two  most  iU-treated  by  the  press,  are  decidedly  Miss  Harriet 
Martineau  and  Henry  O'Brien.  Of  Miss  Martineau  I 
shall  say  little,  as  she  can  defend  herself  against  all  her 
foes,  and  give  them  an  effectual  check  when  hard-pressed  in 
literary  encounters.  Her  fame  can  be  comprised  in  one 
brief  pentameter,  which  I  would  recommend  as  a  motto  for 
the  title-page  of  aU  her  treatises  : 

"  Eoemina  tractavit '  propria  quae  maribus.' " 

But  over  Henry  O'Brien,  as  he  is  young  and  artless,  I  must 
throw  the  shield  of  my  fostering  protection.  It  is  now 
some  time  since  he  called  at  WatergrasshUl ;  it  was  in  the 
summer  after  I  had  a  visit  from  Sir  Walter  Scott.  The 
young  man  was  then  well  versed  in  the  Oriental  langfuages 
and  the  Celtic :  he  had  read  the  "  Coran"  and  the  "  Psalter 
of  Cashil,"  the  "  Zendavesta"  and  the  «  Ogygia,"  "  Lalla 


142  FATHEE  PEOTTT'S   EEMQUES. 

Erookh"  and."Eock's  Memoira,"  besides  other  books  that 
treat  of  Phoenician  antiquities.  From  these  authentic 
sources  of  Irish  and  Hindoo  mythology  he  had  derived  . 
much  internal  comfort  and  spiritual  consolation ;  at  the 
same  time  that  he  had  picked  up  a  rude  (and  perhaps  a 
crude)  notion  that  the  Persians  and  the  boys  of  Tipperary 
were  first  cousins  after  all.  This  might  seem  a  startling 
theory  at  first  sight ;  but  then  the  story  of  the  fire-worship- 
pers in  Arabia  so  corresponded  with  the  exploits  of  General 
Decimus  Eock  in  Mononia,  and  the  camel-drirer  of  Mecca 
was  so  forcibly  associated  in  his  mind  with  the  bog-trotter 
of  Derrynane,  both  having  deluded  an  untutored  tribe  of 
savages,  and  the  flight  of  the  one  being  as  celebrated  as  the 
vicarious  imprisonment  of  the  other,  he  was  sure  he  should 
find  some  grand  feature  of  this  striking  consanguinity, 
gome  landmark  indicative  of  former  relationship  : 

Joumeying  with  that  intent,  he  eyed  these  Towees  ; 
And,  Heaven-directed,  came  this  way  to  find 
The  noble  truth  that  gilds  his  humble  name. 

Being  a  tolerable  Gf^reek  scholar  (for  he  is  a  Kerryman), 
with  Lucian,  of  course,  at  his  fingers'  ends,  he  probably 
bethought  himself  of  the  two  great  phaUic  towers  which 
that  author  describes  as  having  been  long  ago  erected  in 
the  countries  of  the  East,  ("  ante  Syrise  DesB  templum  stare 
phallos  duos  mirae  altitudinis ;  sacerdotem  per  funes  ascen- 
dere,  ibi  orare,  sacra  facere,  tinnitumque  ciere,"  &c.  &c.)  ; 
a  ray  of  light  darted  through  the  diaphanous  casement  of 
O'Brien's  brain, — 'twas  a  most  ewikish  moment, — 'twas  a 
covp  de  soleil,  a  manifestation  of  the  spirit, — 'twas  a  divines 
pwrticula  a/mra, — twas  what  a  IVenchman  would  caU  Vhmre 
da  herger ;  and  on  the  spot  the  whole  theory  of  "  Round 
Towers"  was  developed  in  his  mind.  The  dormant  chrysalis 
burst  into  a  butterfly.  And  this  is  the  bright  thing  of  sur- 
passing brilliancy  that  Tom  Moore  would  extinguish  with 
his  flimsy  foolscap  pages  of  the  "  Edinburgh  Eeview." 

Forbid  it,  Heaven !  Though  aU'  the  mercenary  or  time- 
serving scribes  of  the  periodical  press  should  combine  to 
slander  and  burke  thee,  O'B. !  though  all  the  world  betray 
thee,  one  pen  at  least  thy  right  shaU  guard,  and  vindicate 
thy  renown :  here,  on  the  summit  of  a  bleak  Irish  hill — 


THE  EOarEEIES  OE  TOM  MOOEE.         143 

I 

here,  to  the  child  of  genius  and  enthusiasm  mj  door  is  still 
open ;  and  though  the  support  which  I  can  give  thee  is  but* 
a  scanty  portion  of  patronage  indeed,  I  give  it  with  good 
will,  and  assuredly  with  good  humour.     O'Brien !  historian 
of  round  towers,  has  sorrow  thy  young  days  faded  ? 

Does  Moore  with  his  cold  wing  wither 

Each  feeling  that  once  was  dear  ? 
Then,  child  of  misfortune,  come  hither-^ 

I'll  weep  with  thee  tear  for  tear. 

"When  O'Brien  consulted  me  as  to  his  future  plana  and 
prospects,  and  the  development  of  his  theory,  in  the  first 
instance  confidentially  to  Tom  Moore,  I  remember  distinctly 
that  ia  the  course  of  our  conversation  (over  a  red  herring), 
I  cautioned  the  young  and  fervent  enthusiast  against  the 
tricks  and  rogueries  of  Tommy.  Ko  man  was  better  able 
to  give  advice  on  this  subject — Moore  and  I  having  had 
many  mutual  transactions,  the  reciprocity  of  which  was  all 
on  one  side.  We  know  each  other  intus  et  in  cute,  as  the 
reader  of  this  posthumous  paper  vdll  not  fail  to  learn  be- 
fore he  has  laid  down  the  document ;  and  if  the  ballad- 
monger  comes  ofi"  second  best,  I  can't  help  him.  I  warned 
O'B.  against  confiding  his  secret  to  the  man  of  melody,  or 
else  he  would  surely  repent  of  his  simplicity,  and  to  his 
cost  find  himself  some  day  the  dupe  of  his  credulous  reli- 
ance :  while  he  would  have  the  untoward  prospect  of  seeing 
his  discovery  swamped,  and  of  beholding,  through  the  me- 
dium of  a  deep  and  overwhelming  flood  of  treachery, 

"  His  round  towers  of  other  days 
Beneath  the  waters  shining." 

For,  to  illustrate  by  a  practical  example  the  man's  way  of 
doing  business,  I  gave,  as  a  striking  instance,  his  "  Travels 
in  Search  of  Eeligion."  Wow,  since  my  witty  father's  cele- 
brated book  of  "  Grulliver's  Travels,"  I  ask,  was  there  ever 
a  more  clever,  or  in  every  way  so  well  got  up  a  performance 
as  this  Irish  gentleman's  "  steeple  chase  ?"  But  unfortu- 
nately memory  supplies  me  with  the  i'act,  that  this  very  same 
identical  Tommy,  who  in  that  work  quotes  the  "  Pathers  " 
BO  accurately,  and,  I  may  add  (without  going  into  polemics), 
BO   felicitously   and   triumphantly,  has  written  the  most 


IM  FATHES  PEOTTT's   EELIQrES. 

abusive,  seurrilous,  and  profane  article  that  ever  sullied  the 
pages  of  the  "  Edinburgh  Eeview," — the  whole  scope  of 
which  is  to  cry  down  the  Fathers,  and  to  turn  the  highest 
and  most  cherished  ornaments  of  the  primitive  church  into 
ridicule.  See  the  24th  volume  of  the  "  Edinburgh  Eeview,"* 
p.  65,  Nov.  1814,  where  you  will  learn  with  amazement  that 
the  most  accomplished  Christian  writer  of  the  second 
century,  that  most  eloquent  churchman,  Africa's  glorious 
son,  was  nothing  more  in  Tommy's  eye  than  the  "  harsh, 
muddy,  and  unintelligible  Tertullian!"  Further  on,  you 
will  hear  thiia  Anacreontic  little  chap  talk  of  "  the  pompous 
rigidity  of  Ohrysostom ;"  and  soon  after  you  are  equally 
edified  by  hearing  him  descant  on  the  "  antithetical  trifling 
of  Gregory  ISTazianzene  " — of  Gregory,  whose  elegant  mind 
was  the  result  and  the  index  of  pure  unsullied  virtue,  ever 
most  attractive  when  adorned  with  the  graced  of  scholar- 
ship— Gregory,  the  friend  of  St.  Basil,  and  his  schoolfellow 
at  Athens,  where  those  two  vigorous  champions  of  Chris- 
tianity were  associated 'in  their  youthful  studies  with  that 
Julian  who  was  afterwards  an  emperor,  a  sophist,  and  an 
apostate — a  disturber  of  oriental  provinces,  ,and  a  feUow  who 
perished  deservedly  by  the  javelin  of  some  young  patriot 
admirer  of  round  towers  in  Persia.  In  the  article  alluded 
to,  this  incredulous  Thomas  goes  on  to  say,  that  these  same 
Fathers,  to  whom  he  afterwards  refers  his  Irish  gentleman 
in  the  catch-penny  travels,  are  totally  '■'unfit  to  he  guides 
either  in  faith  or  morals."  (it.  ib.)  The  prurient  rogue  dares 
to  talk  of  their  "pagan  imaginations .'"  and,  having  turned  up 
his  ascetic  nose  at  these  saintly  men,  because,  forsooth,  they 
appear  to  him  to  be  but  "  indifferent  Christians,"  he  pro- 
nounces them  to  be  also  "  elephants  in  battle,"  and,  chuckling 
over  this  old  simile,  concludes  with  a  complacent  smirk  quite 
self-satisfactory.  O  for  the  proboscis  of  the  royal  animal  in 
the  Surrey  Menagerie,  to  give  this  poet's  carcass  a  sound 
drubbing !  O  most  theological,  and  zoological,  and  super- 
eminently logical  Tommy !  'tis  you  that  are  fit  to  travel  in. 
search  of  religion ! 

If  there  is  one  plain  truth  that  oozes  forth  from  the  fecu- 
lent heap  of  trash  which  the  reviewer  accumulates  on  the 

*  The  book  reviewed  by  Moore  is  entitled  "  Select  Passages  from  the 
Fathers,"  by  Hugh  Boyd,  Esq.    Dublin,  1814. 


THE   EOarEEIES   OF   TOM  MOOEE.  145 

merits  of  the  Fathers,  it  is  the  conviction  in  every  observant 
inind,  drawn  from  the  simple  perusal  of  his  article,  that  he 
never  read  three  consecutive  pages  of  their  works  in  his  life. 
'No  one  that  ever  did— no  one  who  had  banqueted  with  the 
gorgeous  and  magnificent  Chrysostom,  or  drained  the  true 
Athenian  cup  of  Gregory  Nazianzene,  or  dwelt  with  the 
eloquent  and  feelingly  devout  Bernard  in  the  cloistered 
shades  of  Clairvaux,  or  mused  with  the  powerful,  rich,  and 
scrutinizing  mind  of  Jerome  in  his  hermitage  of  Palestine, — 
could  write  an  article  so  contemptible,  so  low,  so  little.  He 
states,  truly  vrith  characteristic  audacity,  that  he  has  mounted 
to  the  most  inaccessible  shelves  of  the  library  in  Trin.  Coll. 
Dublia,  as  if  he  had  scaled  the  "heights  of  Abraham,"  to 
get  at  the  original  editions  ;  but  believe  him  not :  for  the 
old  folios  would  have  become  instinct  with  life  at  the  ap- 
proach of  the  dwarf— they  would  have  awakened  from  their 
slumber  at  his  touch,  and,  tumbling  their  goodly  volumes 
on  their  diminutive  assailant,  would  have  overwhelmed  him, 
like  Tarpeia,  on  the  very  threshold  of  his  sacrilegious  in- 
vasion. 

Towards  my  yoimg  friend  O'Brien  of  the  towers  he  acts  the 
same  part,  appearing  in  his  favourite  character — that  of  an 
anonymous  reviewer,  a  veiled  prophet  of  Khorasan.  Having 
first  negotiated  by  letter  with  him  to  extract  his  brains,  and 
make  use  of  him  for  his  meditated  "  History  of  Ireland  " — 
(the  correspondence  lies  before  me) — he  winds  up  the  con- 
fidential intercourse  by  an  Edinburgh  volley  of  canister  shot, 
"  quite  in  a  friendly  way."  He  has  the  inefiable  impudence 
to  accuse  O'B.  of.  plagiarism,  and  to  state  that  this  grand  and 
imparalleled  discovery  had  been  previously  made  by  the  author 
of  "  Nimrod  ;"*  a  book  which  Tommy  read  not,  neither  did 
he  care,  so  he  plucked  the  laurel  from  the  brow  of  merit.  But 
to  accuse  a  writer  of  plagiarism,  he  should  be  himself  im- 

*  Nimrod,  by  the  Hon.  Eeginald  Herbert.  1  vol.  8to.  London,  1826. 
Priestley.  A  work  of  uncommon  erudition;  but  the  leading  idea  of 
which  is,  that  these  towers  were  fire-altars.  O.  B.'s  theory  is  not  to 
be  found  in  any  page  of  it  hating  the  remotest  reference  to  Ireland ;  and 
we  are  astonished  at  the  unfairness  of  giving  (as  Moore  has  done)  a 
pijetended  quotation  from  "  ttimrod  "  without  indicating  where  it  is 
to  be  met  with  in  the  volume. — O.  Y. 

L 


146  TATHEE  PEOUT'S  EELIQTES. 

maculate ;  and  wMle  he  dwells  in  a  glass  house,  he  should 
not  throw  stones  at  a  man  in  a  tower. 

The  Blarney-stone  in  my  neighbourhood  has  attracted  hither 
many  an  illustrious  visitor ;  but  none  has  been  so  assiduous 
a  pilgrim  in  my  time  as  Tom  Moore.  WhUe  he  was  engaged 
in  his  best  and  most  unexceptionable  work  on  the  melodious 
ballads  of  his  country,  he  came  regularly  every  summer,  and 
did  me  the  honour  to  share  my  humble  roof  repeatedly.  He 
knows  well  how  often  he  plagued  me  to  supply  him  with 
original  songs  which  I  had  picked  up  in  France  among  the 
merry  troubadours  and  carol-loving  '  inhabitants  of  that 
once  happy  land,  and  to  what  extent  he  has  transferred 
these  foreign  inventions  into  the  "  Irish  Melodies." 
Like  the  robber  Cacus,  he  generally  dragged  the  plundered 
cattle  by  the  tail,  so  as  that,  moving  backwards  into  his 
cavern  of  stolen  goods,  the  foot-tracks  might  not  lead  to 
detection.  Some  songs  he  would  turn  upside  down,  by  a 
figure  in  rhetoric  called  uenpov  'ffponpov ;  others  he  would  dis- 
guise in  various  shapes ;  but  he  would  still  worry  me  to 
supply  him  with  the  productions  of  the  GraUic  muse;  "for, 
d'ye  see,  old  Prout,"  the  rogue  would  say, 

"  The  best  of  all  ways 
To  lengthen  our  lat/s, 
Is  to  steal  a  few  thoughts  from  tho French,  'my  dear.'  " 

Now  I  would  have  let  him  enjoy  unmolested  the  renown 
which  these  "  Melodies  "  have  obtained  for  him ;  but  his 
last  treachery  to  my  round-tower  friend  has  raised  my  bile, 
and  I  shall  give  evidence  of  the  unsuspected  robberies  : 

"  Abstractseque  boves  abjurat£ec[ue  rapinse 
Ccelo  ostendentur." 

It  would  be  easy  to  point  out  detached  fragments  and 
stray  metaphors,  which  he  has  scattered  here  and  there  in 
such  gay  confusion  that  every  page  has  within  its  limits  a 
mass  01  felony  and  plagiarism  sufficient  to  hang  him.  Por 
instance,  I  need  only  advert  to  his  "  Bard's  Legacy."  Even 
on  his  dying  bed  this  "  dying  "bard  "  cannot  help  indulging 
his  evil  pranks ;  for,  in  bequeathing  his  "  heart "  to  his 
"mistress  dear,"  and  recommending  her  to  "borrow"  balmy 


THE   EOGITEEIES   OF   TOM  MOOEB. 


147 


drops  of  port  wine  to  bathe  the  relic,  he  is  all  the  while  rob- 
bing old  Clement  Mar6t,  who  thus  disposes  of  Ms  remains : 

"  Quand  je  suis  mort,  je  veux  qu'ou  m' entire 
Dans  la  cave  oil  est  le  viu  j 
Le  corps  sous  un  tonneau  de  Mad^re, 
JElt  la  bouche  sous  le  robia." 

But  I  won't  strain  at  a  gnat,  when  I  can  capture  a  camel — 
a  huge  dromedary  laden  with  pUfered  spoil ;  for,  would  you 
believe  it  if  you  had  never  learned  it  from  Prout,  the  very 
opening  and  foremost  song  of  the  collection, 

"  Go  where  glory  waits  thee," 

is  but  a  Hteral  and  servile  translation  of  an  old  French 
ditty,  which  is  among  my  papers,  and  which  I  believe  to  have 
been  composed  by  that  beautiful  and  interesting  "  ladye," 
!Praii9oise  de  Poix,  Comtesse  de  Chateaubriand,  born  in 
1491,  and  the  favourite  of  Prancis  I.,  who  soon  abandoned 
her :  indeed,  the  Hnes  appear  to  anticipate  his  infidelity. 
They  were  written  before  the  battle  of  Pavia; 


C]E)Rn£ion 

de  la  Comtesse  de  Chateaubriand  a 
Francois  I. 

Va  oil  la  gloire  t'invite  ; 
Et  quand  d'orgueil  palpite 

Ce  coenr,  qu'il  peuse  h  moi ! 
Quand  I'SLoge  enflamme 
Toute  I'ardeur  de  ton  Hine, 

Pense  encore  a  moi ! 
Autres  charmes  peut-tee 
Tu  Toudras  connaitre, 
Autre  amour  en  maitre 

Hegnera  sur  toi ; 
Mais  quand  ta  levre  presse 
CeUe  qui  te  oaresse, 

H^chant,  pense  k  moi ! 

Quand  au  soir  tu  erres 
Sous  I'a^tre  des  bergeres, 
Pense  aus  doux  instans 


Com  Jffioow's 

Translation  of  this  Song  in  the  Irish 


Go  where  glory  waits  thee ; 
But  while  fame  elates  thee. 

Oh,  still  remember  me ! 
When  the  praise  thou  meetest 
To  thiue  ear  is  sweetest, 

Oh,  then  remember  me ! 
Other  arms  may  press  thee. 
Dearer  friends  caress  thee — 
AU  the  joys  that  bless  thee 

Dearer  far  may  be  : 
But  when  friends  are  dearest, 
And  when  joys  are  nearest. 

Oh,  then  remember  me ! 

When  at  eve  thou  rovest 
By  the  star  thou  levest, 
Oh,  then  remember  me  5 


118 


PATHEE  PEOUT's   EELIQTJES. 


Lorsque  oette  ^toile, 
Qu'uu  beau  ciel  d^Toile, 

Q-iiida  deui  amans ! 
Q.uand  la  fleur,  symbole 
D'ete  qui  s'envole, 
Penclie  sa  tete  molle, 

S'exhalant  a  I'air, 
Pcnse  k  la  guirlande, 
De  ta  mie  roffrande — ■ 

Don  qui  fat  si  eher ! 

Quaud  la  feuiUe  d'automne 
Sous  tes  pas  resonne, 

Pense  alors  h  moi ! 
Quand  de  la  famille 
L'autique  foyer  brille, 

Pense  encore  h,  moi ! 
Et  si  de  la  cbanteuse 
La  Toix  melodieuse 
Beree  ton  ^me  heureuse 

Et  ravit  tes  sens, 
Pense  k  I'air  que  chante 
Pour  toi  ton  amante — 

Tant  aim^s  aooens ! 


Think,  when  home  returning, 
Bright  we've  seen  it  burning— 

Oh,  then  remember  me ! 
Oft  as  summer  closes, 
When  thine  eye  reposes 
On  its  lingering  roses, 

Once  so  loved  by  thee. 
Think  of  her  who  wove  them— 
Her  who  made  thee  love  them : 

Oh,  then  remember  me ! 

When  around  thee,  dying. 
Autumn  leaves  are  lying. 

Oh,  then  remember  me ! 
And  at  night,  when  gazing 
On  the  gay  hearth  blazing. 

Oh,  still  remember  me ! 
Then,  should  music,  stealing 
All  the  soul  of  feeling, 
To  thy  heart  appealing, 

Draw  one  tear  from  thee ; 
Then  let  memory  bring  thee 
Strains  I  used  to  sing  thee— 

Oh,  then  remember  me ! 


Any  one  who  has  the  slightest  tincture  of  !Prench  litera- 
ture must  recognise  the  simple  and  unsophisticated  style  of 
a  genuine  love-song  in  the  ahove,  the  language  being  that  of 
the  century  in  which  Clement  Mar&t  and  Maitre  Adam 
wrote  their  incomparable  ballads,  and  containing  a  kindly 
admixture  of  gentleness  and  sentimental  delicacy,  which 
no  one  but  a  "  ladye"  and  a  lovely  heart  could  infuse  into 
the  composition.  Moore  has  not  been  infelicitous  in  ren- 
dering the  charms  of  the  wondrous  original  into  English 
lines  adapted  to  the  measure  and  tune  of  the  French.  The 
air  is  plaintive  and  exquisitely  beautiful ;  but  I  recommend 
it  to  be  tried  first  on  the  French  words,  as  it  was  sung  by  the 
charming  lips  of  the  Countess  of  Chateaubriand  to  the  en- 
raptured ear  of  the  gallant  Francis  I. 

The  following  pathetic  strain  is  the  only  literary  relic 
which  has  been  preserved  of  the  unfortunate  Marquis  de 
Cinqmars,  who  was  disappointed  in  a  love  affair,  and  who, 
"  to  fling  forgetfulness  around  him,"  mixed  in  politics,  con- 
spired against  Cardinal  Eichelieu,  was  betrayed  by  an  ac- 
complice, and  perished  on  the  scaffold.    Moore  has  trans- 


THE  EOGUEEIES  OE  TOM  MOOEE. 


149 


planted  it  entire  into  his  "  National  Melodies ;"  but  is  very 
careful  not  to  give  the  nation  or  writer  whence  he  translated 
it. 


He  IKarqufe  Ue  CinqinarH. 

Tu  n'as  fait,  o  mon  coeur !  qu'im 
beau  songe, 
Qui  te  fut,  helas !  ravi  trop  t6t ; 
Oe  doui  rSve,  ah  dieux !  qu'il  so 
prolonge, 
Je  eonsena  a  n'aspirer  plus  haut. 
Paut-U  que  d'avance 
Jeune  esperance 
Le  deBtin  d^truise  ton  avenir  ? 
Faut-il  que  la  rose 
La  premiere  ^close 
Soit  oelle  qu'il  se  plaise  il  fletrir  ? 
Tu  n'as  fait,  &c. 

Que  de  fois  tu  trompas  notre  at- 
teute, 
Amitie,  soeur  de  I'amour  trom- 
peur ! 
De  I'amour  la  coupe  encore  en- 
chante 
A  I'amionliTre  encor'  son  cceur : 
L'insecte  qui  file 
Sa  trame  inutile 
Voit  perir  cent  fois  le  frMe  tiseu; 
Tel,  amour  ensorcele 
L'homme  qui  renouveUe 
Des    Kens    qui   I'ont  cent  fois 


Tu  n'as  fait,  &c. 


Cpomaji  ilKoou. 

O !  'twas  all  but  a  dream  at  the 
best — 
And  still  when  happiest,  soonest 
o'er: 
But  e'en  in  a  dream  to  be  blest 
Is  so  sweet,  that  I  ask  for  no 
more! 
The  bosom  that  opes 
With  earliest  hopes 
The  soonest  finds  those  hopes  un- 
true; 
Like  flowers  that  first 
In  spring-time  bm-st. 
The  soonest  wither  too  ! 

Oh,  'twas  aU  but,  &c. 

By  friendship  we've  oft  been  de- 
ceived, 
And  love,  even  love,  too  soon  is 
past; 
ButfrieudshipwiU  still  be  believed, 
And  love  trusted  on  to  the  last ; 
Like  the  web  in  the  leaves 
The  spider  weaves, 
Is  the  charm  that  hangs  o'er  men — 
Tho'  oft  as  he  sees 
It  broke  by  the  breeze. 
He  weaves  the  bright  line  again ! 
O  !  'twas  all  but,  &c. 


Every  thing  was  equally  acceptable  in  the  way  of  a  song 
to  Tommy  ;  and  provided  I  brought  grist  to  his  miU,  he  did 
not  care  where  the  produce  came  from — even  the  wild  oats 
and  the  thistles  of  native  growth  on  "Watergrasshill,  aU  was 
good  provender  for  his  Pegasus.  There  was  an  old  Latin 
song  of  my  own,  which  I  made  when  a  boy,  smitten  with 
the  charms  of  an  Irish  milkmaid,  who  crossed  by  the  hedge- 
school  occasionally,  and  who  used  to  distract  my  attention 
from  "  Corderius"  and  "  Erasmj  f  oUoquia."    I  have  often 


150 


I'ATHEE  PEOTJT  S   EEI/IQTTES. 


laughed  at  my  juvenile  gallantry  when  my  eye  has  met  the 
copy  of  verses  in  overhauling  my  papers.  Tommy  saw  it, 
grasped  it  with  avidity  ;  and  I  find  he  has  given  it,  word 
for  word,  in  an  English  shape  in  his  "  Irish  Melodies."  Let 
the  intelligent  reader  judge  if  he  has  done  common  justice 
to  my  young  muse. 


Sn  pulcl^ram  Sacttferam. 

Carmen,  Auctore  JProut. 

Xieshia,  sempe)^  hine  et  inde 

Oculorum  tela  movit ; 
Captat  omnes,  sed  deind^ 

Quis  ametur  nemo  novit. 
Palpebrarum,'  Nora  cara,  '   , 

Lux  tuarum  noD  est  foris, 
Flamma  micat  ibi  rara,       '  " 

Sed  einceri  lux  amoris. 
Nora  Greiha  sit  regina,'   , 

Vultu,  gressu.tam  modesto! 
Hsec,  puellas  inter  bellasj"  ' 

Jure  omnium  dux  esto  !  ,     . 


Lesbia  vestes  auro  graves 

Pert,  et  gemmis,  juxta  normam ; 
(Jratise  sed,  eheu !  suaves 

Cinctam  reliqu^re  formam, 
Norse  tunioam  prseferres, 

Flante  zephyro  volantem ; 
Ooulis  et  raptis  erres 

Oontemplando  ambulantem ! 
Vesta  Nora  t^m  deoor^ 

Semper  iudui  memento, 
Semper  purse  sic  naturae 

Ibis  tecta  vestimenlo. 


Co  a  beautiful  MHiimaia. 

A  Melody,  hy  Thomas  Moore. 

Lesbia  hath,  a  beaming '  eye, 

But  no  one  knows  for  whom 
it  beameth ; 
Bight  and  left  its  arrows  fly, 
But  what  they  aim  at,  no  one 
dreameth. 
Sweeter  'tis  to  gaze  upon 
My  Norah's  lid,   that  seldom 
rises  ; 
Pew  her  looks,  but  every  one 

Like  unexpected  Hglit  surprises, 
O,  my  Norah  Creina  dear ! 
MTy  gentleibashful  Norah  Creina ! 
Beauty  lies 
In  many  eyes—  ' 
But  Love's  in  thine,  my  Norah 
Creiiia ! 

Lesbia  wears  a  robe  of  gold ; 
But  all  so  tight  the  nymph  hath 
laced  it, 
Not  a  charm  of  beauty's  mould 
Presumes  to  stay  where  nature 
placed  it. 
O,  my  Norah's  gown  for  me, 
That  floats  as  wild  as  mountaon 


Leaving  every  beauty  free 

To  sink  orsweUas  Heaven  pleases, 
Tes,  my  Norah  Creina  dear ! 
My  simple,  gracefulNorah  Creina! 
Nature's  dress 
Is  loveliness — ■ 
The  dress  you  wear,  my  Norah 
Creina ! 


Fa^fUO. 


THE   EO&TJEEIES   OE   TOM  MOOEB.  ' 


151 


Lesbia  mentis  prsefert  lumen, 

Quod  ooruscat  perllbenter  j 
Sed  quia  optet  hoc  acumen, 

Quando  acupunota  dentur  ? 
Norse  sinu  cum  recliner, 

Dormio  luxuriose, 
Nil  corrugat  hoc  pulvinar. 

Nisi  crispse  ruga  rosse. 
Nora  blanda,  Inz  amanda, 

Expers  usque  tenebrarum, 
Tu  cor  muloea  per  tot  dulces 

Botes,  fons  illecebrarum ! 


Lesbia  hath  a  wit  refined  ; 

Bvit  when  its  points  are  gleam- 
ing round  us, 
Wlio  can  tell  if  they're  design'd 
To  dazzle  merely,  or  to  wound 
us? 
Pillow'd  on  my  Norah's  breast, 

In  safer  slumber  Love  reposes — 
Bed  of  peace,  whose  roughest  part 
Is  but  the  crumpling  of  the  roses. 
O,  my  Norah  Oreina  dear ! 

My    mUd,    my   artless  Norah 
Creina ! 

Wit,  though  bright. 
Hath  not  the  light 
That  warms  your  eyes,  my  Norah 
Creina ! 


It  win  be  seen  by  these  specimens  that  Tom  Moore  can 
eke  out  a  tolerably  fair  translation  of  any  given  ballad  ;  and 
indeed,  to  translate  properly,  retaining  all  the  fire  and  spirit 
of  the  original,  is  a  merit  not  to  be  sneezed  at — it  is  the 
next  best  thing  to  having  a  genins  of  one's  own ;  for  he 
who  can  execute  a  clever  forgery,  and  make  it  pass  current, 
is  almost  as  well  oif  as  the  capitalist  who  can  draw  a  sub- 
stantial check  on  the  bank  of  sterling  genius :  so,  to  give 
the  devil  his  due,  I  must  acknowledge  that  in  terseness, 
point,  pathos,  and  elegance,  Moore's  translations  of  these 
!French  and  Latin  trifles  are  very  near  as  good  as  the  pri- 
mary compositions  themselves.  He  has  not  been  half  so 
lucky  in  hitting  off  Anacreon ;  but  he  was  a  young  man 
then,  and  a  "  wild  fellow  ;"  since  which  time  it  is  thought 
that  he  has  got  to  that  climacteric  in  life  to  which  few  poets 
attain,  viz.  the  years  of  discretion.  A  predatory  iSort  of 
life,  the  career  of  a  literary  freebooter,  has  had  great  charms 
for  him  from  his  cradle  ;  and  I  am  afraid  that  he  will  pur- 
sue it  on  to  final  impenitence.  He  seems  to  care  little 
about  the  stem  reception  he  will  one  day  receive  from  that 
inflexible  judge,  Ehadamanthua,  who  will  make  him  confess 
all  his  rogueries — "  Castigatque  dolos,  subi^itque  fateri"— 
our  bard  being  of  that  epicurean  and  careless  turn  of  mind 
60  strikingly  expressed  in  these  lines  of  "  Lalla  Eookh" — 

"  O  !  if  there  be  an  Elysium  on  earth, 
It  is  this !  it  is  this  1" 


152  TATHEE  PEOn'S  EELIQTTES. 

Which  verses,  by  the  by,  are  alone  enough  to  convict  him  of 
downright  plagiarism  and  robbery ;  for  they  are  (as  Tommy 
knows  right  well)  to  be  seen  written  in  large  letters  in  the 
Mogul  language  over  the  audience-chamber  of  the  King  of 
Delhi  :*  ia  fact,  to  examine  and  overhaul  his  "  Lalla  Eookh" 
would  be  a  most  diverting  task,  which  I  may  one  day  un- 
dertake. He  will  be  found  to  have  been  a  chartered  pirate 
in  the  Persian  Gulf,  as  he  was  a  highwayman  iu  Europe — . 
"  spoliis  Otientis  onustum." 

But  the  favourite  field  ia  which  Tommy  has  carried  on 
his  depredations,  to  an  almost  incredible  extent,  is  that  of 
the  early  French  troubadours,  whose  property  he  has  thought 
fair  game,  avaUing  himself  thereof  without  scruple.  In  his  soi- 
disant  "Irish"  Melodies,  and  indeed  ia  all  his  effusions  of 
more  refined  gallantry,  he  has  poured  in  a  large  iafusion  of 
the  spirit  and  the  letter  of  southern  Prance.  To  be  sure, 
he  has  mixed  up  with  the  pure,  simple,  and  genuine  iuspi- 
rationa  of  these  primitive  hearts,  who  loved,  ia  the  olden  time, 
after  nature's  fashion,  much  of  his  own  overstrained  fancy, 
strange  conceits,  and  forced  metaphors  ;  but  the  initiated 
can  easily  distinguish  when  it  is  he  speaketh  in  proprid  per- 
sond,  and  when  it  is  that  he  uses  the  pathetic  and  soul- 
stirring  language  of  the  mdnhtrels  of  Gaul,  those  legitimate 
laureates  of  love.  There  has  been  a  squib  fired  off  by  some 
wag  of  the  sixteenth  century  against  an  old  astrologer,  who 
practised  many  rogueries  in  his  generation,  and  which  I 
think  not  inapplicable  to  Moore  : 

"  Nostra  damua  cilm  faba  damus,  nam  faUere  nostrum  est ; 
Et  cilm  falsa  damns,  non  nisi  Nostra  damus." 

Apd,  only  it  were  a  profanation  to  place  two  such  person- 
ages in  juxtaposition,  I  would  say  that  Moore  might  use  the 
affecting,  the  soul-rending  appeal  of  the  ill-fated  Mary  Stu- 
art, addressed  to  that  land  of  song  and  civilisation  which 
she  was  quitting  for  ever,  when  she  exclaimed,  as  the  Gallic 
shore  receded  from  her  view,  that  "  half  of  her  heart  would 
still  be  found  on  the  loved  plains  of  France,  and  even  the 
other  half  pined  to  rejoin  it  in  its  primitive  abodes  of  plea- 
santness and  joy."  The  song  of  the  unfortunate  queen  is  too 

*  See  the  "  Asiatic  Jourma"  for  May,  1834,  p.  2, 


THE  EOarEEIES  OE  TOM  MOOEE.         153 

exquisitely  beautiful  not  to  be  given  here  by  me,  such  as 
she  sang  it  on  the  deck  of  the  vessel  that  wafted  her  away 
from  the  scenes  of  her  youth  and  the  blessings  of  friendship, 
to  seek  the  dismal  regions  of  bleak  barbarity  and  murderous 
fanaticism.  I  also  give  it  because  Tommy  has  modelled  on 
it  his  melody,  "  As  slow  om*  ship  its  foamy  track,"  and 
Byron  his  "  Native  land,  good  night !" 

"  Adieu,  plaisant  pays  de  France !  "  Farewell  fair  land. 

Oh,  ma  patrie  la  plus  chdrie,  Mine  heart's  countrie  ! 

Qui  as  nourri  ma  jeune  enfance —  Where  girlhood  planned 

Adieu,  France !  adieu,  mes  beaux  Its  wild  freaks  free. 

jours !  The  bark  that  bears 

La  nef  qui  dejoint  mes  amours  A  Queen  to  Scots, 

N'a  ici  de  moi  que  la  moiti^ ;  In  twain  but  tears 

TJne  part  te  reste,  elle  est  tienne.  Her  who  allots 

Je  la  fie  ^  ton  amiti^ —  Her  dearer  half  to  thee : 

PoTir  que  de  I'autre,  il  te  Bouyienne !"  Keep,  keep  her  memorie !" 

I  now  come  to  a  more  serious  charge.  To  plunder  the 
French  is  all  right ;  but  to  rob  his  own  countrymen  is 
what  the  late  Lord  Liverpool  would  call  "  too  bad."  I 
admit  the  claims  of  the  poet  on  the  gratitude  of  the  abori- 
ginal Irish ;  for  glorious  Dan  might  have  exerted  his 
leathern  lungs  duriag  a  century  in  haranguing  the  native 
sans  culottes  on  this  side  of  the  Channel ;  but  had  not 
the  "  Melodies  "  made  emancipation  palatable  to  the  think- 
ing and  generous  portion  of  Britain's  free-born  sons — had 
not  his  poetry  spoken  to  the  hearts  of  the  great  and  the 
good,  and  enlisted  the  fair  daughters  of  England,  the  spouters 
would  have  been  but  objects  of  scorn  and  contempt.  The 
"Melodies"  won  the  cause  silently,  imperceptibly,  effec- 
tually ;  and  if  there  be  a  tribute  due  from  that  class  of  the 
native,  it  is  to  the  child  of  song.  Poets,  however,  are 
always  destined  to  be  poor ;  and  such  used  to  be  the  case 
with  patriots  too,  until  the  rint  opened  the  eyes  of  the 
public,  and  taught  them  that  even  that  sacred  and  exalted 
passion,  love  of  country,  could  resolve  itself,  through  an 
Ksh  alembic,  into  an  ardent  love  for  the  copper  currency 
of  one's  native  land.  The  dagger  of  Harmodius,  which 
used  to  be  concealed  under  a  wreath  of  myrtle,  is  now-a-days 
hidden  within  the  cavity  of  a  church-door  begging-box  :  and 
Tom  Moore  can  only  claim  the  second  part  of  the  cele- 


154 


PATHEK   PEOITT'S   EEMQITES. 


Drated  line  of  Virgil,  as  the  first  evidently  refers  to  Mr. 
O'Connell ; 

"  Mre  ciere  viros — Martemque  acoendere  caniu," 

But  I  am  digressing  from  the  serious  charge  I  mean  to 
bring  against  the  author  of  that  beautiful  melody,  "  The 
Shamrock."  Does  not  Tom  Moore  know  that  there  was 
such  a  thing  in  Prance  as  the  Irish  brigade  ?  and  does  he 
not  fear  and  tremble  lest  the  ghosts  of  that  valiant  crew, 
whom  he  has  robbed  of  their  due  honours,  should,  "  in  the 
stiUy  night,  when  slumber's  chains  have  bound  him,"  drag 
his  small  carcass  to  the  Styx,  and  give  him  a  well-merited 
sousing  ?  Por  why  should  he  exhibit  as  his  production 
their  favourite  song  ?  and  what  inefiable  audacity  to  pawn 
off  on  modern  drawing-rooms  as  Ms  own  that  glorious  carol 
which  made  the  tents  of  Fontenoy  ring  with  its  exhilaratiag 
music,  and  which  old  General  Stack,  who  lately  died  at 
Calais,  used  to  sing  so  gallantly  ? 

€1)?  ^i)ainrocfe. 

A  "Melody"  of  Tom  Moore's,  1813. 

Through  Erin's  isle, 
To  sport  awhile, 

As  LoTO  and  Valour  wander'd 
With  Wit  the  sprite, 
Whose  quiver  bright 

A  thousand  arrows  squander'd : 
Where'er  they  pass, 
A  triple  grass 

Shoots  up,  with  dew-drops  stream- 
ing. 
As  softly  green 
As  emeralds  seen 

Through  purest  crystal  gleaming. 
O  the  shamrock ! 
The  green  immortal  shamrock! 

Chosen  leaf  of  bard  and  chief — 
Old  Erin's  native  shamrock ! 


Et  Crtfle  iCWattat. 

Chanaon  de  la  Brigade,  1748. 

TTn  jour  en  Hybernie, 

D'Amottk  le  beau  g^nie 
Et  le  dieu  de  la  Vaieue  ftrent  ren- 
contre 

Avee  le  "  Bel  Espbit," 

Oe  dr61e  qui  se  rit 
De  tout  ce  qui  lui  vient  ^I'encontre; 

Partout  leur  pas  reveille* 

Une  herbe  Si  triple  feuille, 
Que  la  nuit  humecta  de  ses  pleurs, 

Bt  que  la  douce  aurore 

Eraichement  fait  edorre, 
De  I'emeraude  eUe  a  les  oouleurs. 

Vive  le  trefle ! 

Vive  le  vert  gazon ! 
De  la  patrie,  terre  ch^rie ! 

L'emblfeme  est  be!  et  bon ! 

Vaieue,  d'un  ton  superbe.  Says  Valour,  "  See ! 

S'^crie,  "  Pour  moi  cette  herbe  They  spring  for  me. 

Crdit  sit&t  qu'elle  me  voit  ioi  pa-  Those  leafy  gems  of  morning  j" 
raltre;" 

*  Alia  lectio  :  parlout  leur  main  recueille. 


THE   EOGrEEIES   OF   TOM  MOOEE. 


155 


Amottr  lui  dit,  "  Non,  non, 
C'est  moi  que  le  gazon 

Honore  en  ces  bijoux  qu'il  fait 
naitre :" 
Mais  Bei.  Espbit  dirige 
Sur  I'herbe  ^  triple  tige 

tin  ceil  observateur,  a  sou  tour, 
"  Pourquoi,"  dit-il,  "  defaice 
Un  noeud  si  beau,  qui  serre 

En  ce  type  Espbit,  Vaietjb,  et 
Amoub  I" 
Vive  le  trefle ! 
Vive  le  vert  gazon ! 

Be  la  patrie,  terre  cherie ! 
L'embleme  est  bel  et  bon ! 

Prions  le  Ciel  qu'il  dure 
)    Ce  noeud,  oil  la  nature 
Voudraitvoirune  etemeUe  alliance; 

Que  nul  venin  jamais 

JN'empoisonne  les  traits 
Qu'a  I'entour  si  gaiement  1'Espeit 
lance! 

Que  nul  tyrau  ne  rfeve 

D'user  le  noble  glaive 
De  la  Vaibttb  centre  la  liberte  ; 

Et  que  I'Amotte  suspende 

9a  plus  belle  guirlande 
Sur  I'autel  de  la  fidelite ! 

Vive  le  trefle ! 

Vive  le  vert  gazon ! 
Se  la  patrie,  terre  cherie ! 

L'emblfeme  est  bel  et  bon ! 


Says  Love,  "  Ifo,  no, 

For  me  they  grow. 
My  fragrant  path  adorning.'' 

But  Wit  perceives 

The  triple  leaves, 
And  cries,  "  O,  do  not  sever 

A  type  that  blends 

Three  godhke  friends — 
Wit,  Valour,  Love,  for  ever !" 

O  the  shamrock ! 

The  green  immortal  shamrock! 
Chosen  leaf  of  bard  and  chief. 

Old  Erin's  native  shamrock ! 


So  firm  and  fond 

May  last  the  bond 
They  wove  that  mom  together ; 

And  ne'er  may  fall 

One  drop  of  gaU 
On  Wit's  celestial  feather ! 

May  Love,  as  shoot 

His  flowers  and  fiTiit, 
Of  thorny  falsehood  weed  them ; 

Let  Valour  ne'er 

His  standard  rear 
Against  the  cause  of  freedom. 

Or  of  the  shamrock, 

The  green  immortal  shamrock! 
Chosen  leaf  of  bard  and  chief. 

Old  Erin's  native  shamrock ! 


Moliere  haa  written  a  pleasant  and  instructive  comedy 
entitled  the  Fourberies  de  Scapin,  whicli  I  recommend  to 
Tom's  perusal ;  and  in  the  "  spelling-book"  which  I  used 
to  con  over  when  at  the  hedge-school  with  my  foster- 
brother  George  Knapp,  who  has  since  risen  to  eminence  as 
mayor  of  Cork,  but  with  whom  I  used  then  to  share  the 
reading  of  the  "  Universal  SpeUing-Book"  (having  but  one 
between  us),  there  is  an  awful  story  about  "Tommy  and 
Harry,"  very  capable  of  deterring  youthful  minds  from  evil 
practices,  especially  the  large  wood-cut  representing  a  lion 
tearing  the  stomach  of  the  luckless  wight  wh,o  led  a  career 
of  wickedness.  Had  Tommy  Moore  been  brought  up  pro- 
perly (as  Knapp  and  I  were),  he  would  not  have  committed 


156 


FATHEE  PEOTJT'S  EELIQUBS. 


SO  many  depredations,  which  he  ought  to  know  would  be 
discovered  on  him  at  last,  and  cause  him  bitterly  to  repent 
his  "  rogueries." 

With  all  my  sense  of  indignation,  unabated  and  unmiti- 
gated at  the  unfairness  with  which  O'Brien  "  of  the  round 
towers"  has  been  treated,  and  which  has  prompted  me  to 
make  disclosxires  which  would  have  otherwise  slept  with  me 
in  the  grave,  I  must  do  Moore  the  justice  to  applaud  his 
accurate,  spirited,  and  sometimes  exquisite  translations  from 
recondite  MSS.  and  other  totally  unexplored  vratings  of 
antiquity.  I  felt  it  my  duty,  in  the  course  of  these  stric- 
tures, to  denounce  the  version  of  Anacreon  as  a  total  failure, 
only  to  be  accounted  for  by  the  extreme  youth  and  inexpe- 
rience of  the  subsequently  matured  and  polished  melodist ; 
but  there  is  an  obscure  Greek  poet,  called  Sraxxos  MogpiS^js, 
whose  ode  on  whisky,  or  negus,  composed  about  the  six- 
teenth olympiad,  according  to  the  chronology  of  Archbishop 
Usher,  he  has  splendidly  and  most  literally  rendered  into 
English  Anacreontic  verse,  thus : 


{Stat  nominis  umbra.) 

!Sr£l//b>/lCV  OVV  KUTTfWoV 

Toig  avQtfioitji  4'^'XV5t 
Tots  (pipraTots  ifipcvte  y'  a 
'HfiLV  Svvaivr'  tiptvptiv^ 
Tavrg  yap  ovpavovde 
Ty  VVKTL  8el  TTSTaaQatj 
Tawri/i'  XiTTovTEQ  atav. 
El  y'  OVV  Ep(0£  \a9oiro 
Toig  UTtjinaTiatt'  k  Ttpi^ij 
'H/iiv  jiayoQ  SiSiiiaiv, 
OvTTiti  potog  ytvoiTO, 
*Qc  yap  napeffTiv  oivoQj 
Baipwuev  Hye  Kcvrei, 


*S2g  fiot  \eyovffif  vsKrap 
IlaXai  cirivov  'HPAI 
Kat  ZHNE2  r]Se  «OIBOI. 
'EKiari  Kai  ^poroiaiv 
'H/t»"  trouiv  TO  viKTap' 
HoiriTCCv  yap  oiSf 


<Bn  TOli^tSfeg  or  Jgegus. 

By  Moore. 

Wreathe  the  bowl 

With  flowers  of  soul 
The  brightest  wit  can  find  ue ; 

We'll  take  a  flight 

Towards  heaven  to-night. 
And  leave  dull  earth  behind  us. 

Should  Love  amid 

The  wreath  be  hid, 
That  joy  th'  enchanter  brings  us ; 

No  danger  fear 

WhUe  wine  is  near — 
We'U  drown  him  if  he  stings  us. 

Then  wreathe  the  bowl,  &b.  &o. 

'Twas  nectar  fed 

Of  old,  'tis  said. 
Their  Junes,  Joves,  Apollos  j 

And  man  may  brew 

His  nectar  too — 
The  rich  receipt's  as  follows : 


THE   EOaUEBIES   OF   TOM  MOOEE.  157 

TovTOv  \a€ovTBQ  oevov,  Taie  wine  Kte  tliis, 

Tow  xapnaroe  jrpoffwTroiff  Let  looks  of  bKss 

A/t0t  aKv<tiOQ  (TTsipovree,  Around  it  weU  be  blended  ; 
Tore  ^pevmv  fauvr,v  Then  bring  wit's  beam 

nor(^  Xeovrie  avyriv,  To  warm  the  stream— 

Itfou,  ■n-apidTi  viicrap.  And  there's  your  neotar  splendid. 

Then  wreathe  the  bowl,  &o.  &o. 

TiTrr'  ovv  XpovoQ  yc  '^aiifuf  Say,  why  did  Time 

Triv  K\6\pvSpav  nrXiqat  His  glass  sublime 

Ti)v  aykarjv  auKei ;  Kll  up  with  sands  unsightly, 

Eu  fiev  yap  otSev  oivov  When  wine,  he  knew, 

TaxvTtpov  diappuv,  Euns  brisker  through, 

SriXTTj/urtpoj/  T£  XajiTttiv  And  sparkles  far  more  brightly  ? 

Aof  ovv.  dog  rjfiiv  avTtjv,  O  lend  it  us, 

Koi  iinSiuivTiQ  ovTwQ  And,  smiling,  thus 

Triv  KXtxjjvdpav  crxi<ravTeg,  The  glass  in  two  we'd  serer, 

Uoirjcroftsv  ys  InrXiii  Make  pleasure  ghde 

PiXv  nSoviiv  peeeptp  In  double  tide, 

Einr\r,(TOiitv  S'  eraipoi  And  fill  both  ends  for  ever. 

Vpw  "vrrj  eg  am.  Xhen  wreathe  the  bowl,  &o.  &o. 

Such  carefully  finished  translations  as  this  from  Iraiixos, 
in  which  not  an.  idea  or  beauty  of  the  Grreek  is  lost  in  the 
English  version,  must  necessarily  do  Tommy  infinite  credit ; 
and  the  only  drawback  on  the  abundant  praise  which  I 
should  otherwise  feel  inclined  to  bestow  on  the  Anacreontic 
versifier,  is  the  fatal  neglect,  or  perhaps  wilful  treachery, 
which  has  led  him  to  deny  or  suppress  the  sources  of  his 
inspiration,  and  induced  him  to  appear  in  the  discreditable 
fashion  of  an  Irish  jackdaw  in  the  borrowed  plumage  of  a 
Grecian  peacock.  The  splendour  of  poesy,  like  "  Malachy's 
eoUar  of  gold,"  is  round  his  neck ;  but  he  won  it  from  a 
stranger :  the  green  glories  of  the  emerald  adorn  his  flow- 
ing crest — or,  as  Phsedrus  says, 

"  Nitor  smaragdi  coUo  refulget  tuo — " 

but  if  you  ruffle  his  feathers  a  little,  you  will  find  that  his 
literary  toilette  is  composed  of  what  the  Prench  coiffeurs 
call  des  ornemens  pastiches  ;  and  that  there  was  never  a  more 
called-for  declaration  than  the  avowal  which  he  himself 
makes  in  one  of  his  Melodies,  when,  talking  of  the  wild 
strains  of  the  Irish  harp,  he  admits,  he  "  was  hut  the  wind 


158  FATHEE  PEOTJT's   SEMQrBS. 

passing  heedlessly  over  "  its  chords,  and  that  the  music  waa  bj 
no  means  his  own. 

A  simple  hint  was  sometimes  enough  to  set  his  muse  at 
work  ;  and  he  not  only  was,  to  my  knowledge,  an  adept  ia 
translating  accurately,  but  he  could  also  string  together 
any  number  of  lines  in  any  given  measure,  in  imitation  of  a 
song  or  ode  which  casually  came  in  his  way.  This  is  not 
such  arrant  robbery  as  what  I  have  previously  stigmatised ; 
but  it  is  a  sort  of  jMasi-pilfering,  a  kind  of  petty  larceny, 
not  to  be  encouraged.  There  is,  for  instance,  his  "  National 
Melody,"  or  jingle,  called,  in  the  early  edition  of  his  poems, 
"  Those  Evening  Bells,"  a  "  Petersburg  air;"  of  which  I  could 
unfold  the  natural  history.  It  is  this : — In  one  of  his  fre- 
quent visits  to  WatergrasshOl,  Tommy  and  I  spent  the  even- 
ing in  talking  of  our  continental  travels,  and  more  particu- 
larly of  Paris  and  its  mirabilia ;  of  which  he  seemed  quite 
enamoured.  The  view  from  the  tower  of  the  central  church, 
N6tre  Dame,  greatly  struck  his  fancy  ;  and  I  drew  the  con- 
versation to  the  subject  of  the  simultaneous  ringing  of  all 
the  bells  in  all  the  steeples  of  that  vast  metropolis  on  some 
feast-day,  or  public  rejoicing.  The  effect,  he  agreed  with 
me,  is  most  enchanting,  and  the  harmony  most  surprising. 
At  that  time  Victor  Hugo  had  not  written  his  glorious  ro- 
mance, the  Hunchback  Quasimodo ;  and,  consequently,  I 
could  not  have  read  his  beautiful  description :  "  In  an  ordi- 
nary way,  the  noise  issuing  from  Paris  in  the  day-time  ia 
the  talking  of  the  city ;  at  night,  it  is  the  breathing  of  the, 
city  ;  in  this  case,  it  is  the  singing  of  the  city.  Lend  your 
ear  to  this  opera  of  steeples.  Diffuse  over  the  whole  the 
buzzing  of  half  a  million  of  human  beings,  the  eternal  mur- 
mur of  the  river,  the  infinite  piping  of  the  wind,  the  grave 
and  distant  quartette  of  the  four  forests,  placed  like  im- 
mense organs  on  the  four  hills  of  the  horizon  ;  soften  down 
as  with  a  demi-tint  all  that  is  too  shrill  and  too  harsh  in  the 
central  mass  of  sound,— rand  say  if  you  know  anything  in 
the  world  more  rich,  more  gladdening,  more  dazzling,  than 
that  tumult  of  bells — than  that  furnace  of  music — than 
those  ten  thousand  brazen  tones,  breathed  all  at  once  from 
flutes  of  stone  three  hundred  feet  high — than  that  city  which 
is  but  one  orchestra — than  that  symphony,  rushing  and 
roaring  Kke  a  tempest."    All  these  ^^atters,  we  agreed, 


THE   BOGUEfilES   OE   TOM   MOOEE. 


159 


■were  very  fine ;  but  there  is  nothing,  after  all,  like  the  asso- 
ciations which  early  infancy  attaches  to  the  well-known  and 
long-remembered  chimes  of  our  own  parish-steeple  :  and  no 
magic  can  equal  the  effect  on  our  ear  when  returning  after 
long  absence  in  foreign,  and  perhaps  happier  countries.  As 
we  perfectly  coincided  in  the  truth  of  this  observation,  I 
added,  that  long  ago,  while  at  Eome,  I  had  throvm  my  ideas 
into  the  shape  of  a  song,  which  I  would  sing  him  to  the 
tune  of  the  "  Grroves." 


THE  SHANDON  BELLS* 

Sabbata  pango, 
JTuncra  plango, 
S>oUiimta  tlango. 


With  deep  affection 
And  recollection 
I  often  think  of 

Those  Shaudon  bells, 
Whose  sounds  so  wild  would, 
In  the  days  of  childhood, 
Fling  round  my  cradle 

Their  magic  spells. 
On  this  I  ponder 
Where'er  I  wander, 
And  thus  grow  fonder, 

Sweet  Cort,  of  thee  ; 
With  thy  bells  of  Shandon, 
That  sound  so  grand  on 
The  pleasant  waters 
-Of  the  river  Lee. 

I've  heard  bells  chiming 
Eull  many  a  cUme  in, 
Tolling  sublime  in 
Cathedral  shrine. 
While  at  a  gUbe  rate 
Brass  tongues  would  yibrate — 


Inscrip.  on  an  old  Bell, 

But  all  their  music 

Spoke  naught  like  thine  5 
For  memory  dwelUng 
On  each  proud  sweUing 
Of  the  belfry  knelling 

Its  bold  notes  free, 
Made  the  beUs  of  Shandon 
Sound  far  more  grand  on 
The  pleasant  waters 

Of  the  river  Lee. 

I've  heard  bells  toUing 
Old  "Adrian's  Mole"  in, 
Their  thunder  rolling 

Erom  the  Vatican, 
And  cymbals  glorious 
Swinging  uproarious 
In  the  gorgeous  turrets 

Of  lSr6tre  Dame ; 
But  thy  sounds  were  sweeter 
Than  the  dome  of  Peter 
Flings  o'er  the  Tiber, 

Pealing  solemnly  5— 


*  The  spire  of  Shandon,  built  on  the  ruins  of  old  Shaudon  Castle 
(for  which  see  the  plates  in  "PaoataHybemia"),  is  a  prominent  object, 
fi-om  whatever  side  the  traveller  approaches  our  beautiful  eity.  In  a 
vault  at  its  foot  sleep  some  generations  of  the  writer'^  kith  and  kin. 


IGO  TATHEE  PEOTJT'S   EBIiIQTTES. 

O !  the  bells  of  Shandou  Prom  tlie  tapering  summit 

Sound  far  more  grand  on  Of  tall  minarets. 

The  pleasant  waters  Such  empty  phantom 

Of  the  river  Lee.  I  freely  grant  them ; 

But  there  is  an  anthem 

There's  a  bell  in  Moscow,  More  dear  to  me, — 

While  on  tower  and  kiosk  o !  'Tis  the  beUs  of  Shandon, 

In  Saint  Sophia  That  sound  so  grand  on 

The  Turkman  gets,  The  pleasant  waters 

And  loud  in  air  Of  the  rirer  Lee. 
Calls  men  to  prayer 

Shortly  afterwards,  Moore  published  his  "  Eremng  Bells, 
a  'Petersburg  air."  But  any  one  can  see  that  he  only  rings 
a  few  changes  on  my  Eoman  ballad,  cunningly  shifting  the 
scene  as  far  north  as  he  could,  to  avoid  detection.  He  de- 
serves richly  to  be  sent  on  a  hurdle  to  Siberia. 

I  do  not  feel  so  much  hurt  at  this  nefarious  "belle's 
stratagem  "  regarding  me,  as  at  his  wickedness  towards  the 
man  of  the  round  towers  ;  and  to  this  matter  I  turn  in  con-  . 
elusion. 

"  O  blame  not  the  bard !"  some  folks  wUl  no  doubt  ex- 
claim, and  perhaps  think  that  I  have  been  over-severe  on 
Tommy,  in  my  vindication  of  O'B. ;  I  can  only  say,  that  if 
the  poet  of  all  circles  and  the  idol  of  his  own,  as  soon  as  this 
posthumous  rebuke  shall  meet  his  eye,  begins  to  repent  him 
of  his  wicked  attack  on  my  young  friend,  and,  turning  him 
from  his  evil  ways,  betakes  him  to  his  proper  trade  of  ballad- 
making,  then  shall  he  experience  the  comfort  of  living  at 
peace  with  all  mankind,  and  old  Front's  blessing  shall  fall 
as  a  precious  ointment  on  his  head.  In  that  contingency 
if  (as  I  understand  it  to  be  his  intention)  he  should  happen, 
to  publish  sb  fresh  number  of  his  "  Melodies,"  may  it  be  emi- 
nently successful ;  and  may  Power  of  the  Strand,  by  some 
more  sterling  sounds  than  the  echoes  of  fame,  be  convinced 
of  the  power  of  song — 

!For  it  is  not  the  magic  of  streamlet  or  hill : 

0  no  !  it  is  something  that  sounds  in  the  "  till !" 

My  humble  patronage,  it  is  true,  cannot  do  much  for  him  in 
fashionable  circlfs ;  for  I  never  mixed  much  in  the  beau 


THE   EOGTJEKIES   OF   TOM  MOOEE.  161 

monde  (at  least  in  Ireland)  during  my  life-time,  and  can  be  of 
no  service  of  course  when  I'm  dead;  nor  will  his  "Melodies," 
I  fear,  though  weU.  adapted  to  mortal  piano-fortes,  answer 
the  purposes  of  that  celestial  choir  in  which  I  shall  then  be 
an  obscure  but  cheerful  vocalist.  But  as  I  have  touched 
on  this  grave  topic  of  mortality,  let  Moore  recollect  that  hia 
course  here  below,  however  harmonious  in  the  abstract, 
must  have  a  finale ;  and  at  his  last  hour  let  him  not  treasure 
up  for  himself  the  unpleasant  retrospect  of  young  genius 
nipped  in  the  bud  by  the  frost  of  his  criticism,  or  glad  en- 
thusiasm's early  promise  damped  by  inconsiderate  sneers. 
O'Brien's  book  can,  and  will,  no  doubt,  aiFord  much  matter 
for  witticism  and  merriment  to  the  superficial,  the  unthink- 
ing, and  the  profane ;  but  to  the  eye  of  candour  it  ought  to 
have  presented  a  page  richly  fraught  with  wondrous  research 
— redolent  with  all  the  perfumes  of  Hindostan ;  its  leaves, 
if  they  faUed  to  convince,  should,  Uke  those  of  the  myste- 
rious lotus,  have  inculcated  silence ;  and  if  the  finger  of  me- 
ditation did  not  rest  on  every  line,  and  pause  on  every  pe- 
riod, the  volume,  at  least,  should  not  be  radicated  to  the 
vulgar  by  the  finger  of  scorn.  Even  granting  that  there 
were  in  the  book  some  errors  of  fancy,  of  judgment,  or  of 
style,  which  of  us  is  without  reproach  in  ova  juvenile  produc- 
tions ?  and  though  I  myself  am  old,  I  am  the  more  inclined 
to  forgive  the  inaccuracies  of  youth.  Again,  when  all  is 
dark,  who  would  object  to  a  ray  of  light,  merely  because  of 
the  faulty  or  flickering  medium  by  which  it  is  iiansmitted  ? 
And  if  these  round  towers  have  been  hitherto  a  dark  puzzle 
and  a  mystery,  must  we  scare  away  O'Brien  because  he  ap- 
proaches with  a  rude  and  unpolished  but  serviceable  lantern  ? 
No ;  forbid  it,  Diogenes :  and  though  Tommy  may  attempt 
to  put  his  extinguisher  on  the  towers  and  their  historian, 
there  is  enough  of  good  sense  in  the  British  public  to  miake 
common  cause  with  O'Brien  the  enlightener,  Moore  should 
recollect,  that  knowledge  conveyed  in  any  shape  will  ever 
find  a  welcome  among  us ;  and  that,  as  he  himself  beautifully 
observes  in  his  "  Loves  of  the  Angels" — 

"  Sunshine  broken  in  the  rill, 
Though  turned  aside,  is  sunshine  still." 

For  my  own  part,  I  protest  to  Heaven,  that  were  I,  while 

M 


162  TATSEE  PEOTJT'S   EELIQUES. 

wandering  in  a  gloomy  forest,  to  meet  on  my  dreary  path 
the  small,  faint,  glimmering  light  even  of  a  glow-worm,  I 
should  shudder  at  the  thought  of  crushing  with  my  foot  that 
dim  speck  of  briUiancy  ;  and  were  it  only  for  ibs  being  akin 
to  brighter  rays,  honouring  it  for  its  relationship  to  the 
stars,  I  would  not  harm  the  Uttle  lamplighter  as  I  passed 
along  in  the  woodland  shade. 

If  Tommy  is  rabidly  bent  on  satire,  why  does  he  not  fall 
foul  of  Doctor  Lardner,  who  has  got  the  clumsy  machinery 
of  a  whoje ,  Cyclppaedia  at  woi^k,  grinding  that  nonsense 
which.lie  calls  "  XFseful  Knowledge?"  Letthe  pp^t  mount 
his  EegaauSj'Or  his;Ild3inante,  and  go  .  tilt  a.  lance  against 
the  doctor's  windmill.  It  was  unworthy  of  him  to  turn  on 
0/Brien,  after  the  intimacy  of  private  correspondence.;  and 
if  he  was  inclined  for  battle,  he,  might  have  found  a  seemlier 
foe,  Surely  my  young  friend  was  not  the  quarry  on  which 
the  vulture  should .  delight  to.  pqimce,"When  there  are  so 
many  literary  yeptiles  to  tempt  his  beak  and  glut  his  maw! 
Heaven  knows,  there  is  fair  game  and  plentiful  carrion  on 
the  plains  of  Boeotia.  In  the  poet's  picture  of  the  pursuits 
of  a  royal  bird,  we  find,  such  sports  alluded  to — 

"  Id*  reluotantes  dracones     ''  .       "   ' 
Egit  amor  dapis  atque  pugnse." 

Let  Mopre,  then,  vent  his  indignation  and  satiate  his  vpra- 
city  on  theproper  objects  of  a  volatile  of  prey  ;  but'  he  wiU 
find  in  his  own  province  pf  imaginative  poetry  a  kindlier 
element,  a  purer  atmosphere,  fpr  his  winged  excjir,si;pns. 
Leng,  long  may  we  behold  the  gorgeous  bird  soaring  thrpugh 
the  regions  of  inspiratiisn,  distinguished  in  .hjs  Ipffier  as  in 
his  gentler  flights,  and  combining,  by  a  singular  miracle  of 
ornithology,  the  voice  of  the  turtle-dove,  the  eagle's  eye  and 
wing,  with  the  plumage  of  the  "  bird  of  Paradise." 


Mem. — On  the  2%th  of  June,  1835,  died,  at  the  Hermitage, 
Hanwell,  "  Henry  O'Brien,  author  of  the  Round  Towers  of 
Ireland."  His  portrait  was  hung  up  in  the  gallery  of 
Eegina  on  the  1st  pf  August  following ;  and  the  functionary 
who  exhibits  the  "  Literary  Characters"  dwelt  thus  on  his 
merits : 


HENET   o'BEIEIT.  163 

In  the  village  graveyard  of  Hanwell  (ad  viii.  ab  urbe  lapidem)  sleeps 
the  original  of  yonder  sketch,  and  the  rude  forefathers  of  the  Saxon 
hamlet  have  consented  to  receive  among  them  the  clay  of  a  Milesian 
scholar.  That  "  original"  was  no  stranger  to  ns.  Some  time  hack  we 
had  our  misgivings  that  the  oil  in  his  flickering  lamp  of  life  would  soon 
dry  up  J  stiU,  we  were  not  prepared  to  hear  of  his  Ught  being  thus 
abruptly  extinguished.  "  One  mom  we  missed  him."  from  the  accus- 
tomed table  at  the  library  of  the  British  Museum,  where  the  page  of 
antiquity  awaited  his  perusal ;  "  another  came — nor  yet "  was  he  to  be 
seen  behind  the  pile  of  "Asiatic  ResearcheB,"  poring  over  his  favourite 
Herodotus,  or  deep  in  the  Zendavesta.  "The  next"  brought  tidings 
of  his  death. 

"  Au  banquet  de  la  vie,  infortim^  convive, 
J'apparus  un  jour,  et  je  meurs : 
Je  meurs,  et  sur  la.  tombe  oil,  jeuue  enoor,  j'arrive 
Nul  ne  viendra  verser  des  pleurs." 

His  book  on  "  the  Bound  Towers  "  has  thrown  more  light  on  the  early 
history  of  Ireland,  and  on  the  freemasonry  of  these  gigantic  puzzles, 
than  win  ever  shme  from  the  cracked  pitchers  of  the  "  Boyal  Irish 
Academy,"  or  the  farthing  candle  of  Tommy  Moore.  And  it  was  quite 
natural  that  he  should  have  received  from  them,  during  his  lifetime, 
such  tokens  of  malignant  hostility  as  might  sufficiently  "  tell  how  they 
hated  his  beams."  The  "Koyat  Irish"  twaddlers  must  surely  feel 
some  compunction  now,  when  they  look  back  on  their  paltry  trans- 
actions in  the  matter  of  the  "  prize-essay ;"  and  though  we  do  not  ex- 
pect much  from  "  Tom  Brown  the  younger,"  or  "  Tom  Little,"  the 
author  of  sundry  Tomfudgeries  and  Tomfooleries,  stUI  it  would  not 
surprise  us  if  he  now  felt  the  necessity  of  atoning .  for  his  individual 
misconduct  by  doing  appropriate  penance  in  a  white  sheet,  or  a  "  blue 
and  yeUow"  blanket,  when  next  he  walks  abroad  in  that  rickety  go- 
cart  of  driveUing  dotage,  the  "  Edinburgh  Eeview." 

While  Cicero  was  quaestor  in  Sicily,  he  discovered  in  the  suburbs  of 
Syracuse  the  neglected  grave  of  Arcliimedes,  from  the  circumstance  of 
a  symbolical  cylinder  indicating  the  pursuits  and  favourite  theories  of 
the  illustrious  dead.  &reat  was  his  joy  at  the  recognition.  No  emblem 
will  mark  the  sequestered  spot  where  lies  the  CBdipus  of  the  Bound 
Tower  riddle — ^no  hieroglyphic,  ' 

"  Save  daisies  on  the  mould, 
Where  cMldren  spell,  athwart  the  churchyard  gate, 
His  name  and  life's  brief  date." 

But  ye  who  wish  for  monuments  to  his  memory,  go  to  his  native  land, 
and  there — circumspicite  ! — GHendalough,  Devenish,  Clondalkin,  Innis- 
oattery,  rear  their  architectural  cylinders  j  and  each,  through  those 
mystic  apertures  that  face  the  cardinal  points,  proclaims  to  the  four 
winds  of  heaven,  trumpet-tongued,  the  name  of  him  who  solved  the 

M  2 


164  TATHBE  JEOTTT'S   EELIQTJES. 

problem  of  3000  years,  and  who  first  disclosed  the  drift  of  these 
erections ! 

Fame,  in  the  Ija,trn  poet's  celebrated  personification,  is  described  as 
perched 

"  Sublimi  cvJmine  tecti, 
Xurribus  aut  altis." 

^neid  IV. 

That  of  O'B.  is  pre-eminently  so  ciroumstaiioed.  From  these  proud 
pinnacles  nothing  can  dislodge  his  renown.  Moore,  in  the  recent  pitiful 
compilation  meant  for  "  a  history,"  talks  of  these  monuments  as  being 
bO  many  "  astronomical  indexes."  He  might  as  well  have  said  they 
were  tubes  for  the  purposes  of  gastronomy.  'Tis  plain  he  knew  as  little 
about  their  origin  as  he  may  be  supposed  to  know  of  the  "  Hanging 
Tower  of  Pisa,"  or  the  "  Torre  degU  Asinelli,"  or  how  the  nose  of  the 
beloved  resembled  the  tower  of  Damascus. 

Concerning  the  subject  of  this  memoir,  suffice  it  to  add  that  he  was 
bom  in  the  kingdom  of  Iveragh,  graduated  in  T.O.D.  (having  been 
classically  "brought  up  at  the  feet  of"  the  Bev.  Charles  Boyton)  j  and 
fell  a  victim  here  to  the  intense  ardour  with  which  he  pursued  the  anti« 
quarian  researches  that  he  loved. 

"  Eerria  me  genuit ;  studia,  heu !  rapufere ;  tenet  nunc 
Anglia !  sed  patriam  turrigeram  ceoini." 

Regent  Street,  August  1, 1835. 


No.  VI. 

LITEEATrEB   AND   THE  JESUITS. 

"  Alii  spem  geutis  adultos 
■Bducunt  foetus  :  alii  purissima  mella 
Stipant,  et  liquido  distendnut  nectare  cellas." 

Visa.  Georgia  IV. 

"  Through  flowery  paths 
Skilled  to  guide  youth,  in  haunts  where  learning  dwells. 
They  filled  with  hone/d  lore  their  cloistered  cells." 

Peout. 

The  massacre  this  montli  by  a  brutal  populace  in  Madrid 
of  fourteen   Jesuits,  in  the  haU  of  their  college  of  8fc. 


LITEBATrBE   AND   THE   JESUITS.  165 

Isidore,  has  drawn  somewhat  of  notice,  if  not  of  sympathy, 
to  this  singular  order  of  literati,  whom  we  never  fail,  for 
the  last  three  hundred  years,  to  find  mixed  up  with  every 
political  disturbance.  There  is  a  certain  species  of  bird 
weU  known  to  ornithologists,  but  better  still  to  mariners, 
which  is  sure  to  make  its  appearance  in  stormy  weather — so 
constantly  indeed,  as  to  induce  among  the  sailors  (durum 
genus)  a  belief  that  it  is  the  fowl  that  has  raised  the  tem- 
pest. Leaving  this  knotty  point  to  be  settled  by  Dr. 
Lardner  in  his  "  Cyclopaedia,"  at  the  article  of  "  Mother 
Carey's  chickens,"  we  cannot  help  observing,  meantime, 
that  since  the  days  of  the  Prench  League  under  Henri 
Trois,  to  the  late  final  expidsion  of  the  hranche  ainie  (an 
event  which  has  marked  the  commencement  of  Eegina's 
accession  to  the  throne  of  literature),  as  well  in  the  revo- 
lutions of  Portugal  as  in  the  vicissitudes  of  Venice,  in  the 
revocation  of  the  edict  of  Nantz,  in  the  expulsion  of  James 
II.,  in  the  severance  of  the  Low  Countries  from  Spain,  in 
the  invasion  of  Africa  by  Don  Sebastian,  in  the  Scotch  re- 
bellion of  '45,  in  the  conquest  of  China  by  the  Tartars,  in 
all  the  Irish  rebellions,  from  Father  Salmeron  in  1561,  and 
Father  Archer  (for  whom  see  "  Pacata  Hibemia"),  to  that 
anonymous  Jesuit  who  (according  to  Sir  Harcourt  Lees) 
threw  the  bottle  at  the  Lord  Lieutenant  in  the  Dublin 
theatre  some  years  ago, — there  is  always  one  of  this  ill- 
fated  society  found  in  the  thick  of  the  confusion — 

"  And  whether  for  good,  or  whether  for  ill, 
It  is  not  mine  to  Bay ; 
But  still  to  the  house  of  Amundeville 
He  abideth  night  and  day ! 

When  an  heir  is  bom,  he  is  heard  to  mourn, 

And  when  ought  is  to  befall 
That  ancient  Kne,  in  the  pale  moonaJUne 

He  walks  from,  hall  to  hall." 

BTEOlf. 

However,  notwithstanding  the  various  and  manifold  com- 
motions which  these  Jesuits  have  confessedly  kicked  up  in 
the  kingdoms  of  Europe  and  the  commonwealth  of  Christen- 
dom, we,  Oliteb  Toeee,  must  admit  that  they  have  not 
deserved  iU  of  the  Republic  of  Letters;  and  therefore  do  we 


166  FATHEE  PEOTJT'S   EEIIQTJES. 

decidedly  set  our  face  against  the  Madrid  process  of  knock- 
ing out  their  brains ;  for,  in  our  view  of  things,  the  pineal 
gland  and  the  cerebellum  are  not  kept  in  such  a  high  state 
of  cidtivation  in  Spain  as  to  render  superfluous  a  few  col- 
leges and  professors  of  the  literce  humaniores.  George  Knapp, 
the  Tigilant  mayor  of  Cork,  was,  no  doubt,  greatly  to  be 
applauded  for  demolishing  with  his  civic  club  the  mad  dogs 
which  invested  his  native  town ;  and  he  would  have  won 
immortal  laurels  if  he  had  furthermore  cleared  that  beautiful 
city  of  the  idlers,  gossips,  and  cynics,  who  therein  abound ; 
but  it  was  a  great  mistake  of  the  Madrid  folks  to  apply  the 
club  to  the  learned  skulls  of  the  few  literati  they  possessed. 
We  are  inclined  to  think  (though  full  of  respect  for  Eobert 
Southey's  opinion)  that,  after  all,  Eoderick  was  not  the  last 
of  the  Goths  in  Spain. 

When  the  Cossacks  got  into  Paris  in  1814,  their  first  ex- 
ploit was  to  eat  up  all  the  tallow  candles  of  the  conquered 
metropolis,  and  to  drink  the  train  oil  out  of  the  lamps,  so 
as  to  leave  the  "Botdevards"  in  Cimmerian  darkness.  By 
murdering  the  schoolmasters,  it  would  seem  that  the  parti- 
sans of  Queen  Christina  would  have  no  great  objection  to 
a  similar  municipal  arrangement  for  Madrid.  But  aU  this 
is  a  matter  of  national  taste  ;  and  as  our  gracious  Eegina  is 
no  party  to  "  the  quadruple  alliance,"  she  has  determined  to 
adhere  to  her  fixed  system  of  non-intervention. 

Meantime  the  public  will  peruse  with  some  curiosity  a 
paper  from  Father  Prout,  concerning  his  old  masters  in 
literature.  We  suspect  that  on  this  occasion  sentimental 
gratitude  has  begotten  a  sort  of  "drop  serene"  in  his  eye, 
for  he  only  winks  at  the  rogueries  of  the  Jesuits  ;  nor  does 
he  redden  for  them  the  gridiron  on  which  he  gently  roasts 
Dr.  Lardner  and  Tom  Moore.  But  the  great  merit  of  the 
essay  is,  that  the  composer  evidently  had  opportunities  of  a 
thorough  knowledge  of  his  subject--a  matter  of  rare  occur- 
rence, and  therefore  quite  refreshing.  He  appears,  indeed, 
to  be  fiilly  aware  of  his  vantage-ground  :  hence  the  tone  of 
confidence,  and  the  firm,  unhesitating  tenour  of  his  asser- 
tions. This  is  what  we  like  to  see.  A  chancellor  of  England 
who  rarely  got  drunk.  Sir  Thomas  More,  has  left  this  bit  of 
advice  to  folks  in  general : 


LITEEATTTEE   AND    THE   JESUITS.  167 

i!l!f3ise  men  altDage  another  facuItU. 

afGtme  anti  sag  tH  gimyU  |)atttT 

tjbat  m  beat  {o(  a  man               sf)oulO  not  go  smattet 

tliligentlp  in  )i)jilogOjpf|ie ; 

for  to  applp  nor  augi)t  a  jietitilar 

to  tbe  ousiness!  i)e  tan,  ibecome  a  metifilar 

anti  in  no  tngse  in  t][)eologie,* 
to  cntetpctse 

Acting  on  this  principle,  how  gladly  would  we  open  our 
columns  to  a  treatise  by  our  particular  friend,  Marie  Taglioni, 
on  the  philosophy  of  hops  ! — how  cheerfully  would  we  wel- 
come an  essay  on  heavy  wet  from  the  pen  of  Dr.  "Wade,  or 
of  Jack  Eeeve,  or  any  other  similarly  quaMed.  Chevalier 
de  Malte !  We  should  not  object  to  a  tract  on  gin  from 
Charley  Pearson ;  nor  would  we  exclude  Lord  Althoi^p's 
thick  notions  on  "Jlummery,"  or  Lord  Brougham's  XXX. 
ideas  on  that  mild  alcohol  which,  for  the  sake  of  peace  and 
quietness,  we  shall  call  "  tea."  Who  would  not  listen  with 
attention  to  Irving  on  a  matter  of  "  unknown  tongues,"  or 
to  O'Brien  on  "  Bound  Towers  P"  Verily  it  belongeth  to 
old  Benjamin  IFrauklin  to  write  scientifically  on  the  paraton- 
nire ;  and  his  contemporary,  Talleyrand,  has  a  paramount 
elaim  to  lecture  on  the  weather-cock. 

"  Sumite  materiam  vestris  qui  scribitia  sequam 
ViribuB." 

Turning  finally  to  thee,  O  Prout!  truly  great  was  thy 
love  of  frolic,  but  still  more  remarkable  thy  wisdom.  Thou 
wert  a  most  rare  combination  of  Socrates  and  Sancho  Panza, 
of  Scarron  and  the  venerable  Bede !  What  would  we  not 
have  given  to  have  cracked  a  bottle  with  thee  in  thy  hut  on 
Watergrasshill,  partaking  of  thy  hospitable  "  herring,"  and 
imbibing  thy  deep  flood  of  knowledge  with  the  plenitude  of 
thy  "  Medoc  ?"  Nothing  gloomy,  narrow,  or  pharisaical, 
ever  entered  into  thy  composition — "  In  wit,  a  man ;  sim- 
plicity, a  child."  The  wrinkled  brow  of  antiquity  softened 
into  smiles  for  thee ;  and  the  Muses  must  have  marked  thee 

*  See  this  excellent  didactic  poem  printed  at  length  in  the  elaborate 
pre&ce  to  Dr.  Johnson's  Dictionary.  It  is  entitled,  "  A  merrie  Jest, 
how  a  Sarjeant  woiild  leam  to  play  y"  Frere ;  by  Maister  Thomas  More, 
in  hys  youthe." 


168  rATHEK  pbotjt's  eeliques. 

in  thy  eradle  for  their  own.  Such  is  the  perfume  that 
breathes  from  thy  chest  of  posthumous  elucubrations,  con- 
veying a  sweet  fragrance  to  the  keen  nostrils  of  criticism, 
and  recalling  the  funeral  oration  of  the  old  woman  in  Phse- 
drus  over  her  emptied  flagon — 

"  O  suavis  anima !  quale  te  dicam  bonum 
Anteh^  fuisse,  tales  cvlm  sint  reliquiae." 

OLIVER  TOEKE. 
Regent  Street,  \at  Sept.  1834. 


WatergraasMU,  Dec.  1833. 

Aboitt  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth  century,  after  the 
vigorous  arm  of  an  Augustinian  monk  had  sounded  on  the 
banks  of  the  Ehiue  that  loud  tocsia  of  reform  that  found 
such  responsive  echo  among  the  Gothic  steeples  of  Germany, 
there  arose  in  southern  Europe,  as  if  to  meet  the  exigency 
«f  the  time,  a  body  of  popish  men,  who  have  been  called 
(assuredly  by  no  friendly  nomenclator)  the  Janissaries  of 
the  Vatican.  Professor  Robertson,  in  his  admirable  "  His- 
tory of  Charles  V.,"  introduces  a  special  episode  concerning 
the  said  "janissaries ;"  and,  sinking  for  a  time  the  affairs  of 
the  belligerent  continent,  turns  his  grave  attention  to  the 
operations  of  the  children  of  Loyola.  The  essay  forms  an 
agreeable  interlude  in  the  melodrama  of  contemporary  war- 
fare, and  is  exquisitely  adapted  to  the  purpose  of  the  pro- 
fessor; whose  object  was,  I  presume,  to  furnish  his  readers 
with  a  light  divertimento.  Eor  surely  and  soberly  (^pace 
tanti  viri  dixerim)  he  did  not  expect  that  his  theories  on  the 
origin,  development,  and  mysterious  organisation  of  that 
celebrated  society,  would  pass  current  with  any  save  the 
uninitiated  and  the  profane ;  nor  did  he  ever  contemplate 
the  adoption  of  his  speculations  by  any  but  the  careless  and 
unreflecting  portion  of  mankind.  It  was  a  capital  peg  on 
which  to  hang  the  flimsy  mantle  of  a  superficial  philosophy  j 
it  was  a  pleasant  race-ground  over  which  to  canter  on  the 
gentle  back  of  a  metaphysical  hobby-horse :  but  what  could 
a  Presbyterian  of  Edinburgh,  even  though  a  pillar  of  the 
kirk,  kno;w  about  the  inmost  and  most  recondite  workings 


MTEEATUBE   AUD   THE   JEStTH^.  169 

of  Catholic  freemasonry  ?  What  could  he  tell  of  JeruBalem-, 
he  being  a  Samaritan?  Truly,  friend  Eobertson,  Father 
Prout  would  have  taken  the  liberty,  had  he  been  in  the  his- 
torical workshop  where  thou  didst  indite  that  ilk,  of  acting 
the  unceremonious  part  of  "  Cynthius"  in  the  eclogue : 

"  Aurem 
Vellit  et  admonuit,  '  Pastorem,  Tityre,  pingues 
Pascere  oportet  otob,  deductum  dioere  carmen.' " 

What  could  have  possessed  the  professor  ?  Did  he  ever 
go  through  the  course  of  "  spiritual  exercises  ?"  Did  he  ever 
eat  a  peck  of  salt  with  Loyola's  intellectual  and  highly 
disciplined  sons  ?  "  Had  he  ever  manifested  his  conscience  ?" 
Did  his  venturous  foot  ever  cross  the  threshold  of  the  Jesui- 
tical  sanctuary?  Was  he  deeply  versed  in  the  "ratio 
itudiorum."  Had  his  ear  ever  drank  the  mystic  whisperings 
of  the  monita  secreta  ?  No !  Then  why  the  deuce  did  he 
sit  down  to  write  about  the  Jesuits  ?  Had  he  not  the 
Brahmins  of  India  at  his  service  ?  Could  he  not  take  up 
the  dervishes  of  Persia  ?  or  the  bonzes  of  Japan  ?  or  the 
illustrious  brotherhood  of  Bohemian  gipsies  ?  or  the  "  ancient 
order  of  Druids  ?"  or  aU  of  them  together  ?  But,  va.  the 
name  of  Cornelius  &.  Lapide,  why  did  he  undertake  to  write 
about  the  Jesuits  ? 

I  am  the  more  surprised  at  the  learned  historian's  thus 
indulging  in  the  Homeric  luxury  of  a  transient  nap,  as  he 
generally  is  broad  awake,  and  scans  with  scrutinising  eye 
the  doings  of  his  feUow-men  through  several  centuries  of 
interest.  To  talk  about  matters  of  which  he  must  necessa- 
rily be  ignorant,  never  occurs  (except  in  this  case)  to  his 
comprehensive  habit  of  thought:  and  it  was  reserved  for 
modem  days  to  produce  that  school  of  writers  who  Indus-- 
triously  employ  their  pens  on  topics  the  most  exalted  above 
their  range  of  mind,  and  the  least  adapted  to  their  powers 
of  illustration.  The  more  ignorance,  the  more  audacity. 
"Prince  Buckler  Muskaw"  and  "Lady  Morgan"  fnrijish 
the  heau  iddal  of  this  class  of  scribblers.  Let  them  get  but 
a  peep  at  the  "toe  of  Hercules,"  and  they  will  produce 
forthwith  an  accurate  mezzotinto  drawing  of  his  entire 
godship.  Let  them  get  a  footing  in  any  country  in  the 
habitable  globe  for  twenty -four  hours,  and  their  volume  of 


170  TATHEB  PEOrr's   EELIQTTES. 

"  Prance,"  "  England,"  « Italy,"  or  «  Belgium"  is  ready  for 
the  press. 

"  Oh  give  but  a  glance,  let  a  vista  but  gleam, 
Of  any  given  country,  and  mark  how  they'll  feel !" 

It  is  not  necessary  that  they  should  know  the  common 
idiom  of  the  natives,  or  even  their  own  language  grammati- 
cally ;  for  Lady  Morgan  (aforesaid)  stands  convicted,  in  her 
printed  rhapsodies,  of  beiag  very  little  acquainted  with 
French,  and  not  at  all  with  Italian :  while  her  English,  of 
which  every  one  can  judge,  is  poor  enough.  The  Austrian 
authorities  shut  the  gates  of  Germany  against  her  impos- 
tures, not  relishing  the  idea  of  such  audacious  humbug :  in 
truth,  what  could  she  have  done  at  Vienna,  not  knowing 
German ;  though  perhaps  her  obstetric  spouse,  Sir  Charles, 
pan  play  on  the  German  flute  ? 

"  Lasciami  por'  neUa  terra  il  piede 
B  vider'  questi  inconosciuti  Udi, 
Vider'  le  gente,  e  il  colto  di  lor  fede, 
E  tutto  queUo  onde  uom  Baggio  m'  iuvidi, 
Quando  mi  giover^  narrare  altrui 
Le  novitk  vedute,  e  dire,  '  iofui  !' " 

Tabso,  Gems.  Lib.  cant,  15,  St.  38. 

There  is  in  the  county  of  Kildare  a  veritable  Jesuits' 
college  (of  whose  existence  Sir  Harcourt  Lees  is  well  satis- 
fied, having  often  denounced  it)  :  it  is  called  "  Clongowes 
Wood ;"  and  even  the  sacred  "  Groves  of  Blarney"  do  not 
so  well  deserve  the  honours  of  a  pilgrimage  as  this  haunt  of 
classic  leisure  and  studious  retirement.  Now  Lady  Morgan, 
wanted  to  explore  the  learned  cave  of  these  literary  coeno- 
bites, and  no  doubt  would  have  written  a  book,  entitled 
"  Jesuitism  in  all  its  Branches,"  on  her  return  to  Dublin ; 
but  the  sons  of  Loyola  smelt  a  rat,  and  acted  on  the  prin- 
ciple inculcated  in  the  legend  of  St.  Senanus  (Colgan.  Acta 
S8.  Hyb.) : 

"  Quid  fcsminis 
Commune  est  cum  monachis  p 
Nee  te  neo  ullam  aliam  ' 

Admittamus  in  insulam." 

For  which  Front's  blessing  on  'em !    Amen. 

In  glaring  contrast  and  striking  opposition  to  this  system 
of  forwardness  and  effrontery  practised  by  the  "  lady"  and 


LITEEATtTEE   AND    THE   JESriTS.  171 

the  "  prince,"  stands  the  exemplary  conduct  of  Denny  Mnl- 
lins.  Denny  is  a  patriot  and  a  breeches-maker  in  the  town 
of  Cork,  the  oracle  of  the  "  Chamber  of  Commerce,"  and 
looked  up  to  with  great  reverence  by  the  radicals  and  sans 
culottes  who  swarm  in  that  beautiful  city.  The  excellence 
of  his  leather  hunting  unmentionables  is  admitted  by  the 
Mac-room  fox-hunters  ;  while  his  leather  gaiters  and  his  other 
straps  are  approved  of  by  John  Cotter  of  the  branch  bank 
of  Ireland.  But  this  is  a  mere  parenthesis.  Now  when  the 
boys  in  the  Morea  were  kicking  against  the  Sublime  .Porte, 
to  the  great  delight  of  Joe  Hume  and  other  Corinthians, 
a  grand  political  dinner  occurred  in  the  beautiful  capital  of 
Munster ;  at  which,  after  the  usual  flummery  about  Mara- 
thon and  the  Peloponnesus,  the  health  of  Prince  Tpsilanti 
and  "Success  to  the  Grreeks"  was  given  from  the  chair.  , 
There  was  a  general  call  for  Mulhns  to  speak  on  this  toast ; 
though  why  he  should  be  selected  none  could  tell,  unless  for 
the  reason  which  caused  the  Athenians  to  banish  Aristides, 
viz.  his  being  "  too  honest."  Denny  rose  and  rebuked  their 
waggery  by  protesting,  that,  "  though  he  was  a  plain  man, 
he  could  always  give  a  reason  for  what  he  was  about.  Aa 
to  the  modern  Greeks,  he  would  think  twice  before  he  either 
trusted  them  or  refused  them  credit.  He  knew  little  about 
their  forefathers,  except  what  he  had  read  in  an  author 
called  Pope's  '  Homer,'  who  s^ja  they  were  '  well-gaitered ;' 
and  he  had  learned  to  respect  them.  But  latterly,  to  call  a 
man  a  '  Greek'  was,  in  his  experience  of  the  world,  as  bad 
as  to  call  him  *  a  Jesuit;'  though,  in  both  eases,  few  people 
had  ever  any  personal  knowledge  of  a  real  Jesuit  or  a  bond 
fide  Grecian."  Such  was  the  wisdom  of  the  Aristides  of 
Cork. 

Nevertheless,  it  is  not  my  intention  to  enter  on  the  de- 
batable ground  of  "  the  order's"  moral  or  political  character. 
Cemtti,  the  secretary  of  Mirabeau  (whose  funeral  oration 
he  was  chosen  to  pronounce  bx  the  church  of  St.  Bustache, 
April  4, 1791),  has  written  most  eloquently  on  that  topic ; 
and  in  the  whole  range  of  French  polemics  I  know  nothing 
so  full  of  manly  logic  and  genuine  energy  of  style  as  his 
celebrated  "Apologie  des  Jesuites,"  (8vo.  Soleure,  1773). 
He  afterwards  conducted,  with  Eabaud  St.  Etienne,  that 
firebrand  newspaper,  "La  Eeuille  VUlageoise,"  in  which 


172  FATHEE  PEOTJT'S   EELIQTJES. 

there  was  red-hot  enthusiasm  enough  to  get  all  the  chdteaux 
round  Paris  burnt :  but  the  work  of  his  youth  remains  an 
imperishable  performance.  My  object  is  simply  to  consider- 
"the  Jesuits"  in  connexion  with  literature.  None  would 
1)0  more  opposed  than  I  to  the  introduction  of  polemics  into 
the  domain  of  the  "  belles  lettres,"  or  to  let  angry  disputation 
find  its  way  into  the  peaceful  vale  of  Temp^ 

"  Pour  changer  en  champ-olos  I'harmonieux  rallon !" 

MiLLETOTE. 

The  precincts  of  Parnassus  form  a  "city  of  refuge," 
where  political  and  religious  differences  can  have  no  access, 
where  the  angry  passions  subside,  and  the  wicked  cease  from 
troubling.  Wherefore  to  the  devil,  its  inventor,  I  bequeath 
the  Grunpowder  Plot ;  and  I  shall  not  attempt  to  rake  up  the 
bones  of  Guy  Faux,  or  disturb  the  ashes  of  Doctor  Titus : — 
not  that  Titus,  "  the  delight  of  the  human  race,"  who  conr 
sidered  a  day  as  lost  when  not  signalised  by  some  bene- 
faction ;  but  Titus  Gates,  who  could  not  sleep  quiet  on 
his  pillow  at  night  unless  he  had  hanged  a  Jesuit  in  the 
morning. 

I  have  often  in  the  course  of  these  papers  introduced  quo- 
tations from  the  works  of  the  Jesuit  Gresset,  the  kind  and 
enlightened  friend  of  my  early  years ;  and  to  that  pure  foun- 
tain of  the  most  limpid  poetry  of  Prance  I  shall  again  have 
occasion  to  return :  but  nothing  more  evinces  the  sterling 
excellence  of  this  illustrious  poet's  mind  than  his  conduct 
towards  the  "  order,"  of  which  he  had  been  an  omamenfc 
imtil  matters  connected  with  the  press  caused  his  withdrawal 
from  that  society.  His  "  Adieux  aux  J^suites"  are  on  re- 
cord,  and  deserve  the  admiration  which  they  excited  at  that 
period.  A  single  passage  will  indicate  the  spirit  of  this 
celebrated  composition : 

"  Je  doiB  tou8  mea  regrets  aux  eagea  que  je  quitte ! 
J'en  perda  aveo  douleur  I'entretien  vertueux ; 
Ht  ai  dana  leura  foyera  d^ormaia  je  n'habite, 

Mon  coeur  me  aurvit  aupr^a  d'eux. 
Car  ne  lea  croia  point  tela  que  la  main  de  I'envio 

Lea  peint  Si  des  yeui  pr^-enua ! 
Si  tu  ne  lea  connaia  que  aur  ce  qu'en  publiA 
Ija  ten^breuse  oalonmie, 
Ha  te  sont  encore  inconuus  I" 


HTEEATUEE   AND   THE   JEStTITS,  173 

To  the  sages  I  leave  here's  a  heartfelt  fareweU! 
'Xwas  a  blessing  withm  their  lored  cloisters  to  dwell, 

And  my  dearest  affections  shall  cling  round  them  still ! 
FuU  gladly  I  mixed  their  blessed  circles  among. 
And  oh !  heed  not  the  whisper  of  Envy's  foul  tongue ; 
If  you  list  but  to  her,  you  must  know  them  but  iU. 

But  to  come  at  once  to  the  pith  and  substance  of  the 
present   inquiry,  viz.  the  influence  of  the  Jesuits  on  the 
belles  lettres.     It  is  one  of  the  striking  facts  "we  meet  with 
in  tracing  the  history  of  this  "  order,"  and  which  D'Israeli 
may  do  well  to  iasert  in  the  next  edition  of  his  "  Curiosities 
of  Literature,"  that  the  founder  of  the  most  learned,  and 
by  far  the  most  distinguished  literary  corporation  that  ever 
arose  in  the  world,  was  an  old  soldier  who  took  up  his  "  Latin 
Grammar"  when  past  the  age  of  thirty ;  at  which  time  of 
life  Don  Ignacio  de  Loyola  had  his  leg  shattered  by  an 
18-pounder,  while  defending  the  citadel  of  Pampeluna  against 
the  French.    The  knowledge  of  this  interesting  truth  may 
encourage  the  great  captain  of  the  age,  whom  I  do  not  yet 
despair  of  beholding  in-  a  new  capacity,  covering  his  laurelled 
brow  with  a  doctor's  cap,  and  filling  the  chancellor's  chair  to 
the  great  joy  of  the  public  and  the  special  delight  of  Oxford. 
I  have  seen  more  improbable  events  than  this  take  place  ia 
my  experience  of  the  world.     Be  that  as  it  may,  this  lieu- 
tenant in  the  Ca9adore8  of  his  imperial  majesty  Charles  V., 
called  into  existence  by  the  vigour  of  his  mind  a  race  of 
highly  educated  followers.     He  was  the  parent-stock  (or,  if 
you  wUl,  the  primitive  block)  from  which  so  many  illustrious 
chips  were  hewn  during  the  XVIIth  century.    If  he  had 
not  intellect  for  his  own  portion,  he  most  undeniably  created 
it  around  him :  he  gathered  to  his  standard  men  of  genius 
and  ardent  spirits ;  he  knew  how  to  turn  their  talents  to  the 
best  advantage  (no  ordinary  knowledge),  and,  like  Archi- 
medes at  Syracuse,  by  the  juxtaposition  of  reflectors,  and 
the  skilful  combination  of  mirrors,  so  as  to  converge  into  a 
focus  and  concentrate  the  borrowed  rays  of  the  sun,  he  con- 
trived to  damage  the  enemy's  fleet  and  fire  the  galleys  of  ' 
Marcellus.     Other  founders  of  monastic  orders  enlisted  the 
prejudices,  the  outward  senses,  and  not  unfrequently  the 
fanaticism  of  mankind :  their  appeal  was  to  that  love  for  the 
marvellous  inherent  to  the  human  breast,  and  that  latent 


].74 


FATHEE  PEOn'S   EELIQTTES. 


pride  which  lurked  long  ago  under  the  torn  blanket  of  Dio- 
genes, and  which  would  have  tempted  Alexander  to  set  up 
a  rival  tub.  But  Loyola's  quarry  was  the  cultivated  mind; 
and  he  scorned  to  work  his  purpose  by  any  meaner  instru- 
mentality. When  in  the  romantic  hermitage  of  our  Lady 
of  Montserrat  he  suspended  for  ever  over  the  altar  his  hel- 
met and  his  sword,  and  in  the  spirit  of  most  exalted  chivalry 
resolved  to  devote  himself  to  holier  pursuits — one  eagle 
glance  at  the  state  of  Europe,  just  fresh  from  the  revival  of 
letters  under  Leo  X.,  taught  him  how  and  with  what  wea- 
pons to  encounter  the  rebel  Augustinian  monk,  and  check 
the  progress  of  disaffection.  A  short  poem  by  an  old  school- 
fellow of  mine,  who  entered  the  order  in  1754,  and  died  a 
missionary  in  Cochin  China,  may  illustrate  these  views.  The 
Latin  shows  excellent  scholarship ;  and  my  attempt  at  trans- 
lation can  give  but  a  feeble  idea  of  the  original.* 


33ei:6igilmm  ILogoIae 

In  Maria  Sacello,  1522. 

Chra  bellicosuB  Cantaber  e  tholo 
Suspendit  ensem,  "  Non  ego  lu- 

gubri 
Defunota  beUo,"  dixit,  "  arma 

Degener  aut  timidus  perire 

Miles  resigno.    Me  nova  buo- 

eina, 
Me  non  profani  tessera  prselii 
Deposcit ;  et  sacras  secutus 

Auspicio  meliore  partes, 

ITon  indecorus  transfuga,  glorise 
Signis  reliotis,  nil  cupientium 
Suceedo  castris,  jam  futurus 
Splendidior  sine  elade  victor. 

Domare  mentes,  stringere  fer- 

,  vidis 
Sacro  catenis  nfaENiTrM  throno, 
Et  cunota  terrarum  subacta 
Corda  Deo  dare  gestit  ardor : 


JBon  Ignacto  Itopnla't!  "Figil 

In  the  Chapelof  our  Lady  of  Montserrat, 

When  at  thy  shrine,  most  holy  maid ! 
The  Spaniard  hung  his  votive  blade, 

And  bared  his  helmed  brow — 
Not  that  he  feared  war's  visage  grim. 
Or  that  the  battle-field  for  him 

Had  aught  to  daunt,  I  trow  j 

"  Glory !"  he  cried,  "  with  thee  I've 

done ! 
Fame !  thy  bright  theatres  I  shun, 

To  tread  fresh  pathways  now  : 
To  track  thy  footsteps,  Saviour  Q-od ! 
With  throbbing  heart,  with  feet  un- 
shod: 
Hear  and  record  my  vow. 


Yes,  Thott  shalt  reign !    Chained  to 

thy  throne, 
The  mind  of  man  thy  sway  shall  own, 

And  to  its  conqueror  bow. 
Genius  his  lyre  to  Thee  shall  lift, 
And  intelleot  its  choicest  gift 

Proudly  on  Thee  bestow." 


*  Like  most  other  "  originals,"  this  is  Prout's  own. — 0.  Y. 


XITEEATrUE  AND   THE  JESUITS.  175 

Fraudismagistrosartibiusemulis  Straight  on  the  marble  floor  he  knelt, 

Deprseliando  stemerej  sedmagis  And  in  his  breast  exulting  felt 

Loyola  jjutheri  triumpKos  A  vivid  furnace  glow  ; 

Orbeuovo  reparabit  ultor!"  ITorth  to  his  task  the  giant  sped. 

Earth  shook  abroad  beneath  his  tread, 

■lellns  gigantis  sentit  iter;  simul  And  idols  were  laid  low. 
Idola  nutant,  &na  ruunt,  micat 
Christi  triumphantis  trophse- 
iim, 

Oruxque  novos  numerat  cli-  India  repaired  half  Europe's  loss ; 

entes.  O'er  a  new  hemisphere  the  Cross 
Shone  in  the  azure  sky ; 

Tidfoe  gentes  Xaverii  jubar  And,  from  the  isles  of  far  Japan 

.  Igni  oorusco  nvibUa  dividens :  To  the  broad  Andes,  won  o'er  man 

Coepitque  mirans  Christiano*  A  bloodless  victory ! 
Per  medios  fluitare  G^anges. 

Professor  Eobertson  gravely  opines  that  Ignatius  was  a 
mere  fanatic,  who  never  contemplated  the  subsequent  glories 
of  his  order  ;  and  that,  were  he  to  have  revisited  the  earth 
a  century  after  his  decease,  when  his  institute  was  making 
such  a  noise  in  the  world,  he  would  have  started  back, 

"  Scared  at  the  sound  himself  had  made." 

Never  did  the  historian  a'&opt  a  re  ore  egregious  blunder. 
Had  he  had  leisure  or  patience  to  con  over  the  original  code, 
caUed  Instituttm  Soo.  Jest,  he  would  have  found  in 
every  paragraph  of  that  profound  and  crafty  volume  the 
germs  of  wondrous  future  development ;  he  would  have  dis- 
covered the  long- hidden  but  most  precious  "  soul  of  the 
licentiate  Garcias"  under  the  inspection  that  adorns  the; 
title-page.  Yes,  the  mind  of  Loyola  lies  embalmed  in  the 
leaves  of  that  mystic  tome ;  and  the  ark  of  cedar-wood, 
borne  by  the  children  of  Israel  along  the  sands  of  the 
desert,  was  not  more  essential  to  their  happy  progress  unto 
the  land  of  promise  than  that  grand  depository  of  the 
founder's  wisdom  was  to  the  march  of  intellect  among  the 
Jesuits. 

Before  his  death,  this  old  veteran  of  Charles  V.,  this  il- 
literate lieutenant,  this  crippled  Spaniard  from  the  "  im- 
minent and  deadly  breach"  of  Pampeluna  (for  he  too  was 
lame,  like  Tyrtaeus,  Talleyrand,  Lord  Byron,  Sir  W.  Scott, 
Tamerlane,  'and  Appius  Claudius),  had  the  satisfaction  of 


176  TATHEE  PBOTJT'S   EEIIQTnBS. 

counting  twelve  "provinces"  of  his  order  established  ia 
Europe,  Asia,  Brazils,  and  Ethiopia.  The  members  of  the 
society  amounted  at  that  epoch  (31st  July,  1556),  sixteen 
years  after  its  foundation,  to  seven  thousand  educated  men. 
iJp-wards  of  one  hundred  colleges  had  been  opened.  Xavier 
had  blown  the  trumpet  of  the  Gospel  over  India ;  BobadiUa 
had  made  a  noise  in  Germany ;  Gaspar  Nunes  had  gone  to 
Egypt ;  Alphonso  Salmeron  to  Ireland.  Meantime  the 
schools  of  the  new  professors  were  attracting,  in  every  part 
of  Europe,  crowds  of  eager  pupils  :  industry  and  zeal  were 
reaping  their  best  reward  in  the  visible  progress  of  religion 
as  well  as  literature : 

"Pervet  opus,  redolentque  thymo  fragrantia  mella!" 

At  the  suppression  of  the  order,  it  numbered  within  a  frac- 
tion of  twenty  thousand  well-trained,  weU-disciplined,  and 
well-taught  members. 

There  is  an  instinct  in  great  minds  that  teUs  them  of  their 
Bublime  destinies,  and  gives  them  secret  but  certain  warning 
of  their  ultimate  grandeur :  Uke  Brutus,  they  have  seen  a 
spirit  of  prophetic  import,  whether  for  good  or  evU,  who  wiU 
meet  them  at  PhUippi :  like  Plato,  they  keep  correspondence 
with  a  familiar  dai/itav :  like  Napoleon,  they  read  their  me- 
ridian glories  of  successful  warfare  in  the  morning  sun ; — 
sure  as  fate,  Loyola  saw  the  future  laurels  of  his  order,  and 
placed  full  reliance  on  the  anticipated  energy  of  his  followers 
yet  unborn :  the  same  reliance  which  that  giant  fowl  of 
Arabia,  the  ostrich,  must  entertain,  when,  depositing  its 
monstrous  egg  on  the  sands,  it  departs  for  ever,  leaving  to 
the  god  of  day  the  care  of  hatching  into  life  its  vigorous 
young. 

Industry,  untiring  ardour,  immortal  energy  were  the  cha- 
racteristics of  these  learned  enthusiasts.  Some  cleared  away 
the  accumulated  rubbish  of  the  friars,  their  ignorant  prede- 
cessors ;  and  these  were  the  pioneers  of  literature.  Some 
gave  editions  of  the  Fathers  or  the  Classics,  hitherto  pent 
up  in  the  womb  of  MS. ;  these  were  the  accoucheurs  of  know- 
ledge. Others,  for  the  use  of  schools,  carefully  expurgated 
the  received  authors  of  antiquity,  and  suppressed  every  pru- 
rient passage,  performing,  in  usum  Belphini,  a  very  merito- 
rious task.     I  need  not  sav  to  what,  class  of  operators  in 


LITEEATmi!   ANB   THE   JESTJITS.  177 

surgery  these  worthy  fathers  belonged.  Some  wrote  "  com- 
mentaries "  on  Scripture,  which  Junius  undervalues ;  but, 
with  all  his  acquirements,  I  would  sooner  take  the  guidance 
of  Cornelius  h.  Lapide  in  matters  of  theology.  Piaally,  some 
wrote  original  works ;  and  the  shelves  of  every  European 
library  groan  under  the  folios  of  the  Jesuits. 

There  is  not,  perhaps,  a  more  instructive  and  interesting 
subject  of  inquiry  in  thp  history  of  the  human  mind  than 
the  origin,  progress,  and  workings  of  what  are  called  monas- 
tic institutions.  It  is  a  matter  on  which  I  have  bestowed  not 
a  little  thought,  and  I  may  one  day  plunge  iato  the  depths 
thereof  in  a  special  dissertation.  But  I  cannot  help  advert- 
ing here  to  some  causes  that  raised  the  order  of  the  Jesuits 
so  far  above  all  the  numerous  and  fantastical  fraternities  to 
which  the  middle  ages  had  previously  given  birth.  Loyola 
saw  the  vile  abuses  which  had  crept  into  these  institutions, 
and  had  the  sagacity  to  eschew  the  blunders  of  his  prede- 
cessors. Idleness  was  the  most  glaring  evil  under  which 
monks  and  friars  laboured  in  those  days ;  and  hence  inces- 
sant activity  was  the  watchword  of  his  sons.  The  rules  of 
other  "orders"  begot  a  grovelling  and  vulgar  debasement  of 
mind,  and  were  calculated  to  mar  and  cripple  the  energies  of 
genius,  if  it  ever  happened  exceptionally  to  lurk  under  "  the 
weeds  of  Francis  or  of  Dominick :"  but  all  the  regulations 
of  the  Jesuits  had  a  tendency  to  develop  the  aspirings  of 
intellect,  and  to  expand  the  scope  and  widen  the  career  of 
talent.  The  system  of  mendicancy  adopted  by  each  holy 
brotherhood  as  the  ground- work  of  its  operations,  did  not 
strike  Loyola  as  much  calculated  to  give  dignity  or  manli- 
ness to  the  human  character ;  hence  he  left  his  elder  brethren 
in  quiet  possession  of  that  interesting  department.  When 
cities,  provinces,  or  kings  founded  a  Jesuits'  coUege,  they 
were  sure  of  getting  value  in  return :  hence  most  of  their 
collegiate  halls  were  truly  magnificent,  and  they  ought  to 
have  been  so.  When  of  old  a  prince  wished  to  engage  Zeno 
as  tutor  to  his  son,  and  sought  to  lower  the  terms  of  the 
philosopher  by  stating,  that  with  such  a  sum  he  could  pur- 
chase a  slave,  "  Do  so,  by  all  means,  and  you  will  have  a  pair 
of  them,"  was  the  pithy  reply  of  the  indignant  stoic. 

I  do  not  undervalue  the  real  services  of  some  "  orders"  of 
earlier  institution.     I  have  visited  with  feelings  of  deep 


178  rATHEE  PEOTJT's   EELIQrES. 

respect  the  gorgeous  cradle  of  the  Benedictine  iastitute  at 
Monte  Oassiao  ;  and  no  traveller  has  explored  Italy's  proud 
monuments  of  Boman  grandeur  with  more  awe  than  I  did 
that  splendid  creation  of  laborious  and  persevering  men.  I 
have  seen  with  less  pleasure  the  work  of  Bruno,  la  Grande 
Chartreuse,  near  Gf^renoble ;  he  excluded  learning  from  the 
solitude  to  which  he  drew  his  followers :  but  I  have  hailed 
with  enthusiasm  the  sons  of  Bernard  on  the  Alps  ministering 
to  the  waits  of  the  pilgrim ;  and  I  knew,  that  while  tAey 
prowled  with  their  mountain-dogs  in  quest  of  wayworn  tra- 
vellers, their  brethren  were  occupied  far  off  in  the  mines  of 
Mexico  and  Peru,  soothing  the  toils  of  the  encavemed  slave. 
But  while  I  acknowledged  these  benefactions,  I  could  not 
forget  the  crowds  of  lazy  drones  whom  the  system  has  fos- 
tered in  Europe :  the  humorous  lines  of  Berchoux,  in  his 
clever  poem  "  La  Gastronomie,"  involuntarily  crossed  my 
mind: 

"  Oui,  j'avais  un  bon  oncle  en  votre  ordre,  eleve 
D'vm  merite  eelatant,  gastronome  aoheve ; 
Souvent  il  m'iteisit  son  brillant  r^fectoire, 
C'^tait  1^  du  couvent  la  veritable  gloire ! 
Garni  des  biens  exquis  qu'enfsuite  I'liniTerB, 
ViuB  d'vm  bouquet  ofleste,  et  mets  d'un  goAt  divers ! 

"  Clottres  majestueux !  fortun&  monast^res ! 
Eetraite  du  repoa  des  vertiis  solitaires, 
Je  V0U8  ai  vu  tomber,  le  eoeur  gros  des  soupirs  5 
Mais  je  voua  ai  gard^  d'etemels  souvenirs ! — 
Je  s^ais  qu'on  a  prouve  que  vous  aviez  grand  tort, 
Mais  que  ne  prouve-t-on  pas  quand  on  est  le  plus  fort  ?" 

This  last  verse  is  not  a  bad  hit  in  its  way. 

But  to  return  to  the  Jesuits.  Their  method  of  study,  or 
ratio  studiorum,  compiled  by  a  select  quorum,  of  the  order, 
under  the  guidance  of  the  profound  and  original  Father 
Maldonatus,*  totally  broke  up  the  old  machinery  of  the 
schools,  and  demolished  for  ever  the  monkish  fooleries  of 
contemporary  pedagogues.  Before  the  arrival  of  the  Jesuits 
in  the  field  of  collegiate  exercises,  the  only  slrill  applauded 
or  recognised  in  that  department  consisted  in  a  minute  and 
servile  adherence  to  the  deep-worn  tracks  left  by  the  passage 
*  See  Bayle's  Diet.,  art.  Maldonat. 


HTEEATtTBE   ANP   THE   JESTTITS.  179 

of  Aristotle's  cumbrous  waggon  over  the  plains  of  leaamng. 
The  well-known  fable  of  Gray,  concerning 

"  A  Qrecian  youth  of  talents  rare," 

whom  he  describes  as  exceUing  in  the  hippodrome  of  Athens 
by  the  fidelity  with  which  he  could  drive  his  chariot-wheels 
within  an  inch  of  the  exact  circle  left  on  the  race-course  by 
those  who  had  preceded,  was  the  type  and  model  of  scho- 
lastic excellence.  The  Jesuits,  in  every  university  to 
which  they  could  get  access,  broke  new  ground.  Various 
and  fierce  were  the  struggles  against  those  invaders  of  the 
territory  and  privileges  of  Boeotia;  dubiess  opposed  his 
old  bulwark,  the  vis  inertice,  in  vain.  Indefatigable  in  their 
pursuit,  the  nftw  professors  made  incessant  inroads  into  the 
domains  of  ignorance  and  sloth ;  a^-fuUy  ludicrous  were  the 
dying  convulsions  of  the  old  universitarian  system,  that 
had  squatted  like  an  incubus  for  so  many  centuries  on 
Paris,  Prague,  Alcala,  VaUadolid,  Padua,  Cracow,  and  Coim- 
bra.  But  it  was  in  the  halls  of  their  own  private  colleges 
that  they  unfolded  aU  theic  excellence,  and  toiled  unimpeded 
for  the  revival  of  classic  studies.  "  Consule  scholas  Jesuita- 
rum,"  exclaims  the  Lord  Chancellor  Bacon,  who  was  neither 
a  quack  nor  a  swiper,  but  "  spoke  the  words  of  sobriety  and 
truth."  (Vide  Opus  de  Dignit.  Scient.  Ub.  vii.)  And  Car- 
dinal Richelieu  has  left  on  record,  in  that  celebrated  docu- 
ment* the  "  Testament  Politique,"  part  i.  chap.  2,  sect.  10,  his 
admiration  of  the  rivalry  in  the  race  of  science  which  the 
order  created  in  Prance. 

Porth  from  their  new  college  of  Lafl^che  came  their  pupil 
Descartes,  to  disturb  the  existing  theories  of  astronomy  and 
metaphysics,  and  start  new  and  unexampled  inquiries.  Science 
until  then  had  wandered  a  captive  in  the  labyrinth  of  the 
schools ;  but  the  Cartesian  Daedalus  fashioned  wings  for 
himself  and  for  her,  and  boldly  soared  among  the  clouds. 
Tutored  in  their  college  of  Payehza  (near  Eimini),  the  im- 
mortal Torricelli  reflected  honour  on  his  intelligent  instruc- 
tors by  the  invention  of  the  barometer,  a.d.  1620.  Of  the 
education  of  Tasso  they  may  well  be  proud.  Justus  Lipsius, 
trained  in  their  earliest  academies,  did  good  service  to  the 

*  Prout  knew  very  well  that  this  "  testament "  was  a  forgery  by  one 
G.  de  Courtilon,  the  author  of  "  Colbert's  testament"  also.— 0.  Y. 

s  2 


180  TATHEE  PEOn'S   EELIQI7ES. 

cause  of  criticism,  and  cleared  off  the  cobwebs  of  the  com- 
mentators and  grammarians.  Soon  after,  Cassini  rose  from 
the  benches  of  their  tuition  to  preside  over  the  newly  estab- 
lished Observatoire  in  the  metropolis  of  France ;  while  the 
illustrious  Toumefort  issued  from  their  haUs  to  carry  a, 
searching  scrutiny  into  the  department  of  botanical  science,, 
then  in  its  infancy.  The  Jesuit  Kircher*  meantime  as- 
tonished his  contemporaries  by  his  untiring  energy  and  saga- 
cious mind,  equally  conspicuous  iu  its  most  sublime  as  in  ita 
trifling  efforts,  whether  he  predicted  with  precision  the  erup- 
tion of  a  volcano,  or  invented  that  ingenious  plaything  the 
"  Magic  Lantern."  Father  Boscovichi"  shone  subsequently 
with  equal  lustre :  and  it  was  a  novel  scene,  in  1759,  to  find 
a  London  Eoyal  Society  preparing  to  send  out  a  Jesuit  to 
observe  the  transit  of  Yenus  in  California.  His  panegyric, 
from  the  pen  of  the  great  Lalande,  fills  the  Journal  des 
Savans,  February  1792.  To  Fathers  EiccioH  and  De  Billy 
science  is  also  deeply  indebted. 

Forth  from  their  coUege  of  Dijon,  in  Burgundy,  came 
Bossuet  to  rear  his  mitred  front  at  the  court  of  a  despot,  and 
to  fling  the  bolts  of  his  tremendous  oratory  among  a  crowd 
of  elegant  voluptuaries.  Meantime  the  tragic  muse  of  Cor- 
neille  was  cradled  in  their  college  of  Eouen ;  and,  under  the 
classic  guidance  of  the  fathers  who  taught  at  the  College  de 
Clermont,  in  Paxis,  Molifere  grew  up  to  be  the  most  exquisite  , 

*  Mvindus  Subterraneua,  Jmst.  1664,  2  vols.  fol.  China  Illustrat, 
ibid.  1667,  folio.  De  TJsu  Obelisoor.  Soma,  1666,  folio.  Museum  Kir- 
cher, Hid.  1709,  folio. 

t  Bom  at  Bagusa,  on  the  Adj'iatic ;  taught  by  the  Jesuits,  in  their 
college  in  that  town ;  entered  the  order  at  the  age  of  sixteen ;  was  sent 
to  Borne,  and  forthwith  was  made  professor  of  mathematics  iu  the  Ai- 
chigymn.  Bom. ;  was  employed  by  the  papal  goverument  iu  the  measure- 
ment of  the  arc  of  meridian,  which  he  traced  from  Bome  to  Eimini, 
assisted  by  an  English  Jesuit,  Mayer ; '  in  1750,  employed  by  the  repub- 
lic of  Lucca  in  a  matter  relating  to  their  marshes ;  subsequently  by  the 
Emperor  of  Austria ;  and  was  elected,  in  1760,  a  fellow  of  the  London 
Eoyal  Society,  to  whom  he  dedicated  his  poem  on  the  "  Bclipses,"  a 
clever  manual  of  astronomy.  His  grand  work  on  the  properties' of 
matter  {Lex  Continuitatia)  was  printed  at  Bome,  4to.,  1754.  We  hAve 
also  from  his  pen,  Dioptrica,  Vind.  1767  ;  Mathesis  TJniTersa,  Venetiii, 
1757  ;  Lens  et  Teleacop.,  Rom.  1755  ;  Theoria  Plulos.  Natur.,  Viemie, 
1758.  The  French  government  invited  him  to  Paris,  where  he  died  in 
1792,  in  the  sentiments  of  unfeigned  piety  which  he  ever  displayed. 


LITEBATDKE   AND   THE  JESUITS.  181 

of  comic  writers.  The  lyric  poetry  of  Jean  Baptiste  Eousseau 
was  nurtured  by  them  in  their  college  of  Louis  le  Grrand. 
And  in  that  college  the  wondrous  talent  of  young  "  Fran9oiB 
Arouet"  was  also  cultivated  by  these  holy  men,  who  little 
dreamt  to  what  purpose  the  subsequent  "  Voltaire"  would 
convert  his  abilities — 

"  Non  hoB  qusesitum  mvrnus  iii  usus.'' 

JEneid.  IV. 

D'OUvet,  Pontenelle,  CrebiUon,  Le  Franc  de  Pompignan — 
there  is  scarcely  a  name  known  to  literature  during  the  seven- 
teenth century  which  does  not  bear  testimony  to  their  prow- 
ess in  the  province  of  education — no  profession  for  which  they 
did  not  adapt  their  scholars.  For  the  bar,  they  tutored  the 
illustrious  Lamoignon  (the  Mtecenas  of  Eacuie  and  Boileau). 
It  was  they  who  taught  the  vigorous  ideas  of  D'Argenson 
how  to  shoot ;  they  who  breathed  into  the  young  Montes- 
quieu his  "  Esprit ;"  they  who  reared  those  ornaments  of 
French  jurisprudence,  Nicolai,  Mol^,  Seguier,  and  Amelot. 

Their  disciples  could  wield  the  sword.  "Was  the  great 
Conde  deficient  in  warlike  spirit  for  having  studied  among 
them  ?  was  Mar^chal  Villars  a  discreditable  pupil  ?  Need  I 
give  the  list  of  their  other  belligerent  scholars  ? — De  Grram- 
mont,  De  Boufflers,  De  Bohan,  De  Brissac,  De  Etr^es,  De 
Soubise,  De  Crequi,  De  Luxembourg, — ia  France  alone. 

Great  names  these,  no  doubt ;  but  literature  is  the  title  of 
this  paper,  and  to  that  I  would  principally  advert  as  the 
favourite  and  peculiar  department  of  their  excellence.  True, 
the  Society  devoted  itself  most  to  church  history  and  eccle- 
siastical learning,  such  being  the  proper  pursuit  of  a  sacer- 
dotal body ;  and  success  in  this,  as  ia  every  study,  waited  on 
their  industry.  The  archaiologist  is  familiar  with  the  works 
of  Father  Petavius,  whom  Grrotius  calls  his  friend ;  with  the 
labours  of  Fathers  Sirmond,  BoUand,  Hardouin,  Labbe, 
Parennin,  and  Tournemine.  The  admirer  of  polemics  (if 
there  be  any  such  at  this  time  of  day)  is  acquainted  vrith 
BeUarmin,  Menochius,  Suarez,  Tolet,  Becan,  Sheifmaker,  and 
(last,  though  not  least)  0 !  Cornelius  Ji  Lapide,  with  thee  ? 
But  in  classic  lore,  as  well  as  in  legendary,  the  Jesuits  ex- 
celled. Who  can  pretend  to  the  character  of  a  literary  man 
that  has  not  read  Tiraboschi  and  his  "  Storia  deUa  Lettera- 


182  FATHEE  PBOTTt's  EElIQrES. 

tura  d'  Italia,"  Bouhours  on  the  "  Manni^re  de  bien  penser," 
Brumoy  on  the  "  Theatre  des  Grecs,"  Vavassour  "  de  Ludicr& 
Dictione,"  Eapin's  poem  on  the  "  Ajct  of  Gardening"  (the 
model  of  those  by  Dr.  Darwin  and  Abb6  DeMe),  Vaniere's 
"  PrsBdium  Eusticum,"  TurseUin  "  de  Particulis  Latini  Ser- 
monis,"  and  Casimir  Sarbievi's  Latin  Odes,  the  nearest 
approach  to  Horace  in  modem  times  ?  What  shall  I  say  of 
Porfe  (Voltaire's  master),  of  Sanadon,  of  DesbiUons,  Sidro- 
nius,  Jouvency,  and  the  "  journalistes  de  TreToux  ?" 

They  have  won  in  France,  Italy,  and  Spain,  the  palm  of 
pulpit  eloquence.  Logic,  reason,  wisdom,  and  piety,  dwelt 
in  the  soul  of  Bourdaloue,  and  flowed  copiously  from  his 
lips.  Lingendes,  Cheminais,  De  la  Eue,  were  at  the  head 
of  their  profession  among  the  French ;  while  the  pathetic 
and  unrivalled  Segneri  took  the  lead  among  the  eloquent 
orators  of  Italy.  In  Spain,  a  Jesuit  has  done  more  to  pu- 
rify the  pulpit  of  that  fantastic  country  than-  Cervantes  to 
clear  the  brains  of  its  chivalry  ;  for  the  comic  romance  of 
"  Fray  Gerundio  "  (Friar  Gerund),  by  the  Jesuit  Isla,  ex- 
hibiting the  ludicrous  ranting  of  the  cowled  fraternity  of 
that  day,  has  had  the  effect,  if  not  of  giving  eloquence  to 
clods  of  the  valley,  at  least  of  putting  down  absurdity  and 
presumption. 

They  wooed  and  won  the  muse  of  history,  sacred  and 
profane.  Strada*  in  Flanders,  Maffeif  at  Genoa,  Marianaf 
in  Seville.  In  France,  Maimbourg,§  Daniel,||  Boujeant,T| 
Charlevoix,**  Berruyer,tt  D'Orleans,JJ  Ducerceau,§§  a^id 
Du  Halde,||||  shed  light  on  the  paths  of  historical  inquiry 
which  they  severally  trod.  I  purposely  omit  the  ex-Jesiait 
Eaynal. 

They  shone  in  art  as  well  as  in  science.    Father  Pozzi  was 

*  De  Bello  Belgioo.  t  Eerum  Indioar.  Hist. 

J  Histor.  di  Bspana.    De  Eegia  Institutione,  Toledo,  1599. 

§  HiBtoire  de  I'Arianisme,  des  Iconoolastes,  des  Oroisades,  du  Cal- 
vinism, de  la  Ligue. 

II  Hist,  de  France.     De  la  Milice  !Fran9aise. 

%  Hist,  du  Traits  de  Westphalia.    Ame  des  BMes,  ^eio. 

**  Hist,  du  Paraguay,  du  Japon,  de  St.  Domiugue. 

+t  Du  Peuple  de  Dieu.  JJ  EevolutioBB  d'Angleterre. 

§§  Conjuration  de  Rienzi,  &o.  &c. 

nil  Description  Geogr.  Histor.  Folitio.  et  Physique  de  la  Oliine, 
Land.  1742,  2  vols,  folio. 


riTEEATTJEE  AKD  THE  JESUITS.  183 

one  of  Eome's  best  painters.  A  Jesuit  was  employed  in  the 
drainage  of  the  Pontine  marshes ;  another  to  devise  plans  for 
sustaining  the  dome  of  St.  Peter's,  when  it  threatened  to . 
crush  its  massive  supports.  In  naval  tactics  (a  subject  es- 
tranged from  sacerdotal  researches)  the  earliest  work  on  the 
strategy  proper  to  ships  of  the  line  was  written  by  P^re  le 
Hoste,  known  to  middies  as  "  the  Jesuits'  book,"  its  French 
title  being  "  Traits  des  Evolutions  Navales."  The  first  hint 
of  aerial  navigation  came  from  Padre  Lana,  in  his  work  de  Arte 
ProrfroJKO,  Milan.  Newton  acknowledges  his  debt  to  father 
Grrimaldi,  de  Lumine  Coloribus  et  Iride,  Bononiae,  1665,  for  his 
notions  on  the  inflexion  of  light.  The  best  edition  of  New- 
ton's Principia  was  brought  out  at  Geneva,  1739-60,  by  the 
Jesuits  Lesueur  and  Jaquier,  in  3  vols.  In  their  missions 
through  Greece,  Asia  Minor,  and  the  islands  of  the  Archi- 
pelago, they  were  the  best  antiquaries,  botanists,  and  mine- 
ralogists. They  became  watchmakers,  as  well  as  manda- 
rins, in  China :  they  were  astronomers  on  the  "  plateau " 
of  Thibet:  they  taught  husbandry  and  mechanics  in 
Canada:  while  in  their  own  celebrated  and  peculiar  con- 
quest (since  fallen  into  the  hands  of  Doctor  Pran^ia)  on 
the  plains  of  Pabaguax,  they  taught  the  theory  and  prac- 
tice of  civil  architecture,  civil  economy,  farming,  tailoring, 
and  all  the  trades  of  civUised  life.  They  played  on  the 
fiddle  and  on  the  flute,  to  draw  the  South  American  Indians 
from  the  forests  into  their  villages  :  and  the  story  of  Thebes 
rising  to  the  sound  of  Amphion's  lyre  ceased  to  be  a  fable. 

We  find  them  in  Europe  and  at  the  antipodes,  in  Siam 
and  at  St.  Omer's,  in  1540  and  in  1830 — everywhere  the 
same.  Lainez  preached  before  the  Council  of  Trent  in 
1560:  Eev.  Peter  Kenney  was  admired  by  the  North 
American  Congress  not  many  years  ago.  Tiraboschi  was  li- 
brarian of  the  Brera  in  1760 :  Angelo  Mai  (ex-Jesuit)  is 
librarian  of  the  Vatican  in  1833.  By  the  by,  they  were 
also  capital  apothecaries.  Who  has  not  heard  of  Jesuits' 
bark,  Jesuits'  drops,  Jesuits'  powders,  Jesuits'  cephalie 
snuff? 

"  Qvue  regio  in  terris  nostri  non  plena  laboris  ?" — Mneid.  I. 
And,  alas  !  must  I  add,  who  has  not  heard  of  the  cuffs  and 


184  EATHEE  PEOTJT'S   EEIiIQTJES. 

Duffetings,  the  kicks  and  halters,  which  they  have  met  with 
in  return : 

"  Quse  caret  ora  oruore  nostro  ?" — Hot.  lib.  ii.  ode  1. 

For,  of  course,  no  set  of  men  on  the  face  of  God's  earth 
have  been  more  abused.  'Tis  the  fate  of  every  mortal  who 
raises  himseK  by  mother-wit  above  the  common  level  of 
fools  and  dunces,  to  be  hated  by  the  whole  tribe  most  cor- 
dially  ■ 

"  TJrit  enim  fulgore  suo,"  &c. — Hor.  lib.  ii.  ep.  1. 

The  Mars  were  the  first  to  raise  a  hue  and  cry  against 
the  Jesfiits,  with  one  Melchior  Cano,  a  Dominican,  for  their 
trumpeter.  Ignatius  had  been  taken  up  by  "  the  Inquisi- 
tion" three  several  times.  Then  came  the  pedants  of  the 
university  at  Paris,  whom  these  new  professors  threw  into 
the  shade.  The  "  order"  was  next  at  loggerhep,ds  with  that 
suspicious  gang  of  intriguers,  the  council  and  doge  of  Ve- 
nice ;  the  Jesuits  were  expelled  the  republic.*  Twice  they 
were  expelled  from  Prance,  but  thrust  out  of  the  door  they 
came  back  through  the  window.  They  encountered,  like 
Paul,  "  stripes,  perils,  and  prisons,"  in  Poland,  in  Germany, 
in  Portugal,  and  Hungary.  They  were  hanged  by  dozens  io! 
England.  Their  march  for  two  centuries  through  Europe 
was  only  to  be  compared  to  the  retreat  of  the  ten  thousand 
Greeks  under  Xenophon. 

A  remarkable  energy,  a  constant  discipline,  a  steady 
perseverance,  and  a  dignified  self-respect,  were  their  charac- 
teristics from  the  beginning.  They  did  not  notice  the 
pasquinades  of  crazy  Pascal,t  whose  "  Provincial  Letters," 
made  up  of  the  raspings  of  antiquated  theology  and  the 
scrapings  of  forgotten  causistry,  none  who  knew  them  ever 
thought  much  of.  The  sermons  of  Bourdaloue  were 
the  only  answer  such  calumnies  required ;  and  the  order 
confined  itself  to  giving  a  new  ecfition  of  the  "Lettres 
6difiante8  et  curieuses,  Sorites  par  nos  Missionaires  du  Le- 

*  In  Bayle's  Dictionary,  among  the  notes  appended  to  the  article  on 
Abelard,  will  be  found  the  real  cause  of  their  expulsion  j  they  may  be 
proud  of  it. 

t  Prout's  relish  for  genuine  fan  ia  here  at  fault. — O.  T. 


lilTEEATTTEE  AND  THE  JESriTS.  185 

vant,  de  la  Cbine,  du  Canada,  et  du  Malabar."  When  a 
flimsy  accusation  was  preferred  against  bim  of  Africa, 

"  Hiine  qui 
Duxit  ab  ereraS.  meritum  Carthagine  nomen," 

he  acted  ia  a  similar  manner,  and  silenced  his  miserable 
adversaries. 

If  ever  there  was  an  occasion  on  which  the  comparative 
merits  of  the  Jesuits  and  Jansenists  could  be  brought  to 
the  test,  it  was  at  the  outbreak  of  the  pestilential  visitation 
that  smote  the  city  of  Marseilles;  and  which  history,  poetry, 
and  piety,  will  never  allow  to  be  forgotten : 

"  Why  drew  Marseilles'  good  bishop  purer  breath. 
When  natore  sickened,  and  each  gale  was  death  ?" 

Pope's  Essay  on  Man,  ep.  4. 

Por  whUe  the  Pharisees  of  that  school  fled  from  their  cle- 
rical functions,  and  sneaked  off  under  some  paltry  pretext, 
the  Jesuits  came  from  the  neighbouriug  town  of  Aix  to 
attend  the  sick  and  the  dying ;  and,  under  the  orders  of 
that  gallant  and  disinterested  bishop,  worked,  while  life  was 
spared  them,  iu  the  cause  of  humanity.  Seven  of  them 
perished  in  the  exercise  of  this  noblest  duty,  amid  the 
blessings  of  their  fellow-men.  -The  bishop  himself,  De  Bel- 
zunce,  had  not  only  studied  under  the  Jesuits,  but  had  been 
a  member  of  the  order  during  the  early  part  of  his  ecclesias- 
tical career  at  Ais,  in  1691. 

Long  ago,  that  noblest  emanation  of  Christian  chivalry — 
an  order  in  which  valorous  deeds  were  familiar  as  the 
"  matin  song"  or  the  "  vesper  hymn' — the  Templars,  feU 
the  victims  of  calumny,  and  were  immolated  amid  the  shouts 
of  a  vulgar  triumph ;  but  history,  keen  and  scrutinising,- 
has  revealed  the  true  character  of  the  conspiracy  by  which 
the  vices  of  a  few  were  made  to  swamp  and  overwhelm,  in 
the  public  eye,  the  great  mass  of  virtue  and  heroism  which 
constituted  that  refined  and  gentlemanly  association ;  and  a 
tardy  justice  has  been  rendered  to  Jacques  Molay  and  his 
illustrious  brethren.  The  day  may  yet  come,  when  isolated 
instances  and  unauthenticated  misdeeds  wiU.  cease  to  create 
an  unfounded  antipathy  to  a  society  which  will  be  found, 


186  T-ATHEE  PBOTTT's  EELIQTJES. 

taking  it  all  in  all,  to  have  deserved  well  of  mankind.  This, 
at  least,  is  Father  Prout's  honest  opinion ;  and  why  should 
he  hide  it  under  a  bushel  ? 

The  most  convincing  proof  of  their  sterling  virtue  is  to  be 
found  in  the  docility  and  forbearance  they  evinced  in 
promptly  submitting  to  the  decree  of  their  suppression,  is- 
sued ex  cathedrd  by  one  Ganganelli,  a  Franciscan  friar,  who 
had  got  enthroned.  Heaven  knows  how !  on  the  pontiflc 
chair.  In  every  part  of  Europe  they  had  powerful  fiiends, 
and  could  have  "  shewn  fight "  and  "  died  game,"  if  their 
respect  for  the  successor  of  "  the  fisherman  "  had  not  been 
all  along  a  distinctive  characteristic,  even  to  the  death.  In 
Paraguay  they  could  have  decidedly  spumed  the  mandate 
of  the  Escurial,  backed  by  an  army  of  60,000  Indians,  de- 
voted to  their  spiritual  and  temporal  benefactors,  taught  the 
tactics  of  Europe,  and  possessing  in  1750  a  well-appointed 
train  of  artillery.  That  portion  of  South  America  has  since 
relapsed  into  barbarism ;  and  the  results  of  their  withdrawal 
from  the  interior  of  that  vast  peninsula  have  fully  justified 
the  opinion  of  Muratori,  in  his  celebrated  work  on  Para- 
guay, "  II  ChristianeBimo  felice."  It  was  a  dismal  day  for 
Uterature  in  Spain,  Portugal,  and  Italy,  when  their  colleges 
were  shut  up  ;  and  in  France  they  alone  could  have  stayed 
the  avalanche  of  irreligion  ;  for,  by  presenting  Christianity 
to  its  enemies  clad  in  the  panoply  of  Science,  they  would 
have  awed  the  scoifer,  and  confounded  the  philosophe.  But 
the  Vatican  had  spoken.  They  bowed;  and  quietly  dis- 
persing through  the  cities  of  the  continent,  were  welcomed 
and  admired  by  every  friend  of  science  and  of  piety.  The 
body  did  not  cease  to  do  good  even  after  its  dissolution  in 
1763,  and,  like  the  bones  of  the  prophet,  worked  miracles  of 
usefulness  even  in  the  grave.* 

Contrast  their  exemplary  submissiveness  with  the  frenzy 
and  violence  of  their  old  enemies  the  Jansenists  (of  which 
sour  and  pharisaical  sect  Pascal  was  the  mouth-piece),  when 
the  celebrated  buU  JJnigmitus  was  issued  against  them.  Never 
did  those  unfortunate  wights,  whom  the  tyrant  Phalaris  used 

•  "  And  it  came  to  pass,  as  they  were  burying  a  man,  behold  they 
spied  a  band  of  robbers  ;  and  they  oast  the  man  into  the  sepulchre  of 
Elisha :  and  when  the  man  touched  the  bones  of  Elisha  he  came  to  life, 
and  stood  upon  his  feet." — 2  Kings,  chap,  xiii,,  ver.  21. 


HTEEATITEE   AND   THE   JESUITS.  187 

to  enclose  in  his  brazen  cow,  roar  so  lustily  as  the  clique  of 
Port  Royal  on  the  occasion  alluded  to.  It  was,  in  fact,  a 
most  melancholy  exhibition  of  the  wildest  fanaticism,  com- 
bined, as  usual,  with  the  most  pertinacious  obstinacy.  The 
followers  of  Pascal  were  also  the  votaries  of  a  certain  vaga- 
bond yclept  le  Diacre  Paris,  whose  life  was  a  tissue  of  ras- 
cality, and  whose  remains  were  said  by  the  Jansenists  to 
operate  wondrous  cures  in  the  churchyard  of  St.  Medard, 
in  one  of  the  fauxbotirgs  of  the  capital.  The  devotees  of 
Port  Eoyal  flocked  to  the  tomb  of  the  deacon,  and  became 
forthwith  hysterical  and  inspired.  The  wags  of  Louis  the 
Fifteenth's  time  called  them  "  ie.s  Convulsionnaires."  Things 
rose  to  such  a  height  of  dangerous  absurdity  at  last,  that  the 
cemetery  was  shut  up  by  the  police  ;  and  a  wit  had  an  op- 
portunity of  writing  on  the  gates  of  the  aforesaid  church- 
yard this  pointed  epigram : 

"  De  par  le  roy,  defense  h.  Dieu, 
De  faire  miracles  en  oe  lieu." 

And  I  here  conclude  this  very  inadequate  tribute  of  long- 
remembered  gratitude  towards  the  men  who  took  such  pains 
to  drill  my  infant  mind,  and  who  formed  with  plastic  power 
whatever  good  or  valuable  quality  it  may  possess.  "  Si  quid  est 
in  me  ingenii,  judices  (et  sentio  quam  sit  exiguum),  si  quae 
exercitatio  ab  optimarum  artium  discipb'nis  profecta,  earum 
rerum  fructum,  sibi,  suo  jure,  debent  repetere." — (Ciceeo 
pro  Ar  chid  poet  t)  And  as  for  the  friend  of  my  youth,  the 
accomplished  Grresset,  whose  sincerity  and  kindness  will  be 
ever  embalmed  in  my  memory,  I  cannot  shew  my  sense  of 
his  varied  excellencies  in  a  more  substantial  way  than  by 
making  an  eifort — a  feeble  one,  but  the  best  I  can  command 
— to  bring  him  before  the  English  pubKc  in  his  most  agree- 
able production,  the  best  specimen  of  graceful  and  harmless 
humour  in  the  literature  of  Prance.  I  shall  upset  Vert-Vert 
into  English  verse,  for  the  use  of  the  intelligent  inhabitants 
of  these  islands ;  though  I  much  fear,  that  to  transplant  so 
delicate  an  exotic  into  this  Mgid  cUmate  may  prove  an  un- 
successful experiment. 


188  I'ATHEB  FBOUT'b   B£IiIQU£S. 

'Ftrt^'Fert,  tj&i  39arrnt. 

A    FOSU    BY    IHB    JEBiril    GBDSSEI. 

1^9S  original  Innocence. 

AiAS !  what  evils  I  discern  in 

Too  great  an  aptitude  for  learning ! 

And  fain  would  all  the  ills  unravel 

That  aye  ensue  from  foreign  travel ; 

Far  happier  is  the  man  who  tarries 

Quiet  within  his  household  "  Lares :" 

Read,  and  you'll  find  how  virtue  vanishes, 

How  foreign  vice  all  goodness  banishes, 

And  how  abroad  young  heads  will  grow  dizzy. 

Proved  in  the  imderwritten  Odyssey.  .0 

In  old  Nevers,  so  famous  for  its 
Dark  narrow  streets  and  Gothic  turrets, 
Close  on  the  brink  of  Loire's  young  flood, 
Flourished  a  convent  sisterhood 
Of  Ursulines.    Now  in  this  order 
A  parrot  lived  as  parlour-boarder ; 
Brought  in  his  childhood  from  the  Antilles, 
And  sheltered  under  convent  mantles : 
Green  were  his  feathers,  green  his  pinions. 
And  greener  still  were  his  opinions ;  20 

For  vice  had  not  yet  sought  to  pervert 
This  bird,  who  had  been  christened  Vert-Vert; 
Nor  could  the  wicked  world  defile  him, 
Safe  from  its  snares  in  this  asylum. 
Fresh,  in  his  teens,  frank,  gay,  and  gracious. 
And,  to  crown  all,  somewhat  loquacious  ; 
If  we  examine  close,  not  one,  or  he. 
Had  a  vocation  for  a  nunnery.* 

The  convent's  kindness  need  I  mention  f 
Need  I  detail  each  fond  attention,  SO 

Or  count  the  tit-bits  which  in  Lent  he 
Swallowed  remorseless  and  in  plenty  ? 
Plump  was  his  carcass  ;  no,  not  higher 
Fed  was  their  confessor  the  friar  j 
And  some  even  say  that  our  young  Hector 
Was  far  more  loved  than  the  "  Director."  t 
Dear  to  each  novice  and  each  nun — 
He  was  the  life  and  soul  of  fun  j 

•  "  Par  son  caquet  digne  d'etre  en  couvent" 
t  "  Souvent  I'oiseau  I'emporta  but  le  P6re." 


TEET-TEET,  THE  PAEEOT.  189 

,  Though,  to  he  sure,  some  hags  censorious 

Would  sometimes  find  him  too  uproarious.  40 

What  did  the  parrot  care  for  those  old 

Dames,  while  he  had  for  him  the  household  ? 

He  had  not  yet  made  his  "  profession," 

Nor  come  to  years  called  "  of  discretion ;" 

Therefore,  unblamed,  he  ogled,  flirted, 

And  romped  like  any  imoonyerted ; 

Nay  sometimes,  too,  by  the  Lord  Harry  ! 

He'd  puU  their  caps  and  "  scapulary." 

But  what  in  all  his  tricks  seemed  oddest, 

Was  that  at  times  he'd  turn  so  modest,  60 

That  to  aU  bystanders  the  wight 

Appeared  a  finished  hypocrite. 

In  accent  he  did  not  resemble 

£ean,  though  he  had  the  tones  of  Eemble ; 

But  fain  to  do  the  sisters'  biddings. 

He  left  the  stage  to  Mrs.  Siddons. 

Poet,  historian,  judge,  financier, 

Four  problems  at  a  time  he'd  answer 

He  had  a  £iculty  like  Ceesar's. 

Lord  Althorp,  baffling  all  his  teazers,  60 

Could  not  surpass  Vert-Yert  in  puzzling ; 

"  Goodrich"  to  him  was  but  a  gosling.* 

Haeed  when  at  table  near  some  vestal, 
His  fare,  be  sure,  was  of  the  best  aJl,-^- 
I"or  every  sister  would  endeavour 
To  keep  for  him  some  sweet  hors  d'ceuvre. 
Kindly  at  heart,  in  spite  of  vows  and 
Cloisters,  a  nun  is  worth  a  thousand ! 
And  aye,  if  Heaven  would  only  lend  her, 
I'd  have  a  nun  for  a  nurse  tender !  t  70 

Then,  when  the  shades  of  night  would  come  on, 
And  to  their  cells  the  sisters  summon, 
Happy  the  favoured  one  whose  grotto 
This  sultan  of  a  bird  would  trot  to : 
Mostly  the  young  ones'  cells  he  toyed  in, 
(The  aged  sisterhood  avoiding), 
Sure  among  all  to  find  kind  offices, — 
StiU  he  was  partial  to  the  novices. 
And  in  their  cells  our  anchorite 
Mostly  cast  anchor  for  the  night ;  80 

*  At  this  remote  period  it  is  forgotten  that  "  Prosperity  Bobinaon  " 
was  also  known  as  "  Goose  Goodrich,"  when  subsequently  chancellor  of 
the  exchequer. — O.  T.  ' 

t  "  Les  petits  soins,  les  attentions  fines, 
Sont  u^B,  dit  on,  chez  les  Ursulines." 


190  TATHEE  PEOri'S   EELIQTJES. 

Perched  on  the  box  that  held  the  relicB,  he 
Slept  without  notion  of  indelicacy. 
Bare  was  his  luck ;  nor  did  he  spoil  it 
By  flying  from  the  morning  toilet : 
Not  that  I  can  admit  the  fitness 
Of  (at  the  toilet)  a  male  witness  ; 
But  that  I  scruple  in  this  history 
To  shroud  a  single  fact  in  mystery. 

Quick  at  aU  arts,  our  bird  was  rich  at 
That  best  acoomplishment,  called  chit-chat ;  80 

For,  though  brought  up  within  the  cloister, 
His  beak  was  not  closed  like  an  oyster. 
But,  trippingly,  without  a  stutter. 
The  longest  sentences  would  utter ; 
Pious  withal,  and  moralising 
His  conTersation  was  surprising ; 
None  of  your  equivoques,  no  slander — 
To  such  vile  tastes  he  scorned  to  pander ; 
But  his  tongue  ran  most  smooth  and  nice  on 
"  Deo  sit  laus"  and  "  Kyrie  eleison ;"  100 

The  maxims  he  gave  with  best  emphasis 
Were  Suarez's  or  Thomas  k  Kempis's  ; 
In  Christmas  carols  he  was  famous, 
"  Orate,  fratres,"  and  "  Oeemus  ;" 
If  in  good  humour,  he  was  wont 
To  give  a  stave  from  "  Think  well  orCt ;"  * 
Or,  by  particular  desire,  he 
Would  chant  the  hymn  of  "  Dies  irss." 
Then  in  the  choir  he  would  amaze  all 

By  copying  the  tone  so  nasal  110 

In  which  the  sainted  sisters  chanted, — 
(At  least  that  pious  nun  my  aimt  did.) 

^n  tatall  XlenotDtie. 

The  pubho  soon  began  to  ferret 
The  hidden  nest  of  so  much  merit, 
And,  spite  of  all  the  nuns'  endeavours. 
The  fame  of  Tert-Vert  filled  aU  Nevers  ; 
Nay,  from  Moulines  folks  came  to  stare  at 
The  wondrous  talent  of  this  parrot ; 
And  to  fresh  visitors  ad  libitum 

Sister  Sophie  had  to  exhibit  him.  120 

Drest  in  her  tidiest  robes,  the  virgin, 
Forth  fi'om  the  convent  cells  emerging, 

•  "  Pensez-y-bien,"  or  "  ThinTc  well  orit"  as  translated  by  the  titular 
bishop,  Kiohard  Challoner,  is  the  most  generally  adopted  devotional 
tract  among  the  Catholics  of  these  islands. — Fbout, 


TEET-TEBT,   THE   PAEHOT.  191 

Brings  the  bright  bird,  and  for  his  plumage 

First  challenges  unstinted  homage ; 

Then  to  his  eloquence  adverts, — 

"  What  preacher's  can  surpass  Yert- Vert's? 

Truly  in  oratory  few  men 

Equal  this  learned  catechumen  ; 

R-aught  with  the  convent's  choicest  lessons, 

And  stuffed  with  piety's  quintessence  j  130 

A  bird  most  quick  of  apprehension, 

With  gifts  and  graces  hard  to  mention : 

Say  in  what  pulpit  can  you  meet 

A  Chrysostom  half  so  discreet, 

Who'd  follow  in  his  ghostly  mission 

So  close  the  '  fathers  and  tradition  ?'  " 

Silent  meantime,  the  feathered  hermit 

Waits  for  the  sister's  gracious  permit, 

When,  at  a  signal  from  his  mentor, 

Quiet  on  a  course  of  speech  he'U  enter  j  J  40 

Not  that  he  cares  for  human  glory. 

Bent  but  to  save  his  auditory  ; 

Hence  he  pours  forth  with  so  much  unction 

That  all  his  hearers  feel  compunction. 

Thus  for  a  time  did  Vert-Vert  dwell 
Safe  in  his  holy  citadelle ; 
Scholared  like  any  well-bred  abbe. 
And  loved  by  many  a  cloistered  Hebe ; 
You'd  swear  that  he  had  crossed  the  same  bridge 
As  any  youth  brought  up  in  Cambridge.*  I'JO 

Other  monks  starve  themselves ;  but  his  skin 
Was  sleek  like  that  of  a  Pranoisean, 
And  far  more  clean ;  for  this  grave  Solon 
Bathed  every  day  in  euu  de  Cologne, 
Thus  he  indulged  each  guiltless  gambol. 
Blest  had  he  ne'er  been  doomed  to  ramble ! 

For  in  his  life  there  came  a  crisis 
Such  as  for  all' great  men  arises, — 
Such  as  what  Nap  to  Russia  led, 

Such  as  the  "  eiioht"  of  Mahomed  ;  IGO 

O  town  of  Nantz !  yes,  to  thy  bosom 
We  let  him  go,  alas  !  to  lose  him ! 
Edicts,  O  town  famed  for  revoking, 
StiU  was  Vert- Vert's  loss  more  provoking ! 
Dark  be  the  day  when  our  bright  Don  went 
!From  this  to  a  far-distant  convent ! 
IVo  worda^  comprised  that  awful  era — 
Words  big  with  fate  and  woe — "  Ii  iba  !" 

*  Qusere — Pons  Asiuorum  ? 


192  TATHEE  PBOXTT'S   EELIQITlia. 

Yes,  "  he  shall  go  j"  but,  sisters !  mourn  y  o 

The  dismal  firuits  of  that  sad  journey, —  170 

His  on  which  Nantz's  nuns  ne'er  reckoned. 

When  for  the  beauteous  bird  they  beotoned, 

Fame,  O  Vert-Vert !  in  evil  humour, 
One  day  to  Nantz  had  brought  the  rumour 
Of  thy  aocompUshmentB, — "  acumen," 
" Nouc/'  and  " esprit"  quite  superhuman : 
All  these  reports  but  serred  to  enhance 
Thy  merits  with  the  nuns  of  Nantz. 
How  did  a  matter  so  unsuited 

For  oonyent  ears  get  hither  bruited !  180 

Some  may  inquire.     But  "  nuns  are  knowing," 
And  first  to  hear  what  gossip's  going* 
Forthwith  they  taxed  their  wits  to  eUcit 
From  the  famed  bird  a  friendly  visit. 
GHrls'  wishes  run  in  a  brisk  current, 
But  a  nun's  fancy  is  a  torrent  ;t 
To  get  this  bird  they'd  pawn  the  missal : 
Quick  they  indite  a  long  epistle. 
Careful  with  softest  things  to  fiU  it. 

And  then  with  musk  perfume  the  billet ;  190 

Thus,  to  obtain  their  darling  purpose. 
They  send  a  writ  of  habeas  corpus. 

OS  goes  the  post.     When  will  the  answer 
Free  them  from  doubt's  corroding  cancer  ? 
Nothing  can  equal  their  anxiety. 
Except,  of  course,  their  well-known  piety. 
Things  at  Nevers  meantime  went  harder 
Than  well  would  suit  such  pious  ardour ; 
It  was  no  easy  job  to  coax 

This  parrot  from  the  Nevers  folks.  200 

Wliat,  take  their  toy  from  conyent  belles  ? 
Make  Bussia  yield  the  Dardanelles ! 
FUch  his  good  rifle  from  a  "  Suhote,'' 
Or  drag  her  "Eomeo"  from  a  "Juliet!" 
Make  an  attempt  to  take  Gibraltar, 
Or  try  the  old  com  laws  to  alter ! 
This  seemed  to  them,  and  eke  to  us, 
"  Most  wasteful  and  ridiculous." 
Long  did  the  "  chapter"  sit  in  state, 

And  on  this  point  deliberate ;  210 

The  junior  members  of  the  senate 
Set  their  fair  faces  quite  again'  it ; 

*  "  Les  r^T&endes  m&res 

A  tout  saToir  ne  sont  pas  les  demi%res." 

+  "  D&ir  de  fiUe  est  un  feu  qui  devore, 
Sesir  de  uoime  est  cent  fois  pis  encore.'* 


VEET-TEET,  THE  PAEEOT.  193 

Itefuse  to  yield  a  point  so  tender, 

And  urge  the  motto— No  surrender. 

The  elder  nuns  feel  no  great  scruple 

In  parting  with  the  charming  pupil ; 

And  as  each  grave  affair  of  state  runs 

Most  on  the  verdict  of  the  matrons, 

Bmall  odds,  I  ween,  and  poor  the  cimncs 

Of  keeping  the  dear  bird  from  Nantz.  220 

Nor  in  my  surmise  am  I  far  out, — 

For  by  their  vote  off  goes  the  parrot. 

l^gs  tbil  'FoEaBt. 

En  ce  terns  la,  a  smaU  canal-boat, 
Called  by  most  chroniclers  the  ".Talbot," 
(Taibot,  a  name  well  known  in  France !) 
Travelled  between  Nevers  and  Nantz. 
Vert-Vert  took  shipping  iu  this  craft, 
'Tis  not  said  whether  fore  or  aft ; 
But  iu  a  book  as  old  as  Massinger's 

We  find  a  statement  of  the  passengers  ;  230 

These  were — two  Gascons  and  a  piper, 
A  sexton  (a  notorious  swiper), 
A  brace  of  children,  and  a  nurse  j 
But  what  was  infinitely  worse, 
A  dashing  Cyprian ;,  while  by  her 
Sat  a  most  joUy-looking  friar.* 

For  a  poor  bird  brought  up  in  purity 
'Twas  a  sad  augur  for  futurity 
To  meet,  just  free  from  his  indentures. 

And  in  the  first  of  his  adventures,  240 

Such  company  as  formed  Ms  hansel, — 
Two  rogues !  a  friar  ! !  and  a  damsel ! ! ! 
Birds  the  above  were  of  a  feather ; 
But  to  Vert- Vert 't  was  altogether 
Such  a  strange  aggregate  of  scandals 
As  to  be  met  but  among  Vandals ; 
Eude  was  their  talk,  bereft  of  polish, 
And  calculated  to  demolish 
All  the  fine  notions  and  good-breeding 

Taught  by  the  nuns  iu  their  sweet  Eden.  250 

No  Billingsgate  surpassed  the  nurse's, 
And  all  the  rest  indulged  in  curses  ; 

*  "  tine  nourrice,  un  moine,  deui  Gascons ; 
Pour  un  enfant  qui  sort  du  monast^re 
C'^tait  ^choir  en  dignes  compagnons." 


194  TATHEE  PEOTJT's   BELIQUES. 

Ear  hath  not  heard  such  vulgar  gab  in 
The  nautio  cell  of  any  cabin. 
Silent  and  sad,  the  pensive  bird, 
Shocked  at  their  guilt,  said  not  a  word.* 

Now  he  "  of  orders  grey,"  accosting 
The  parrot  green,  who  seemed  quite  lost  in 
The  contemplation  of  man's  wickedness. 
And  the  bright  river's  gliding  Uquidnesa,  260 

"  Tip  us  a  stave  (quoth  Tuck),  my  darling, 
Ayn't  you  a  parrot  or  a  starling  ? 
If  you  don't  talk,  by  the  holy  poker, 
I'll  give  that  neck  of  yours  a  choker !" 
Soared  by  this  threat  from  his  propriety, 
Our  pilgrim  thinking  with  sobriety, 
That  if  he  did  not  speak  they'd  make  him. 
Answered  the  friar.  Pax  sit  tecum  ! 
Here  our  reporter  marks  down  after 

PoU's  maiden-speech — "  loud  roars  of  laughter ;"  870 

And  sure  enough  the  bird  so  affable 
Could  hardly  use  a  phrase  more  laughable. 

Talking  of  such,  there  are  some  rum  ones 
That  oft  amuse  the  House  of  Commons  : 
And  since  we  lost  ''  Sir  Joseph  Yorke," 
We've  got  great  "  Feargus"  fijesh  from  Cork, — 
A  fellow  honest,  droU,  and  funny. 
Who  would  not  sell  for  love  or  money 
His  native  land  :  nor,  like  vile  Daniel, 

Pawn  on  Lord  Althorp  like  a  spaniel ;  280 

Flatter  the  mob,  while  the  old  fox 
Keeps  an  eye  to  the  begging-box. 
Now  'tis  a  shame  that  such  brave  fellows, 
When  they  blow  "  agitation's"  bellows. 
Should  oiiy  meet  with  heartless  scoffers, 
While  cunning  Daniel  fills  his  coffers. 
But  Kerrymen  will  e'er  be  apter 
At  the  conclusion  of  the  chapter, 
While  others  bear  the  battle's  brunt. 

To  reap  the  spoil  and  fob  the  blunt.  290 

This  is  an  episode  concerning 
The  parrot's  want  of  worldly  learning, 
In  squandering  his  tropes  and  figures 
On  a  vile  crew  of  heartless  niggers. 

*  This  canal-boat,  it  would  seem,  was  not  a  very  refined  or  fashion- 
able conveyance :   it  rather  remindeth  of  Horace's  voyage  to  Bnm- 
dusituu,  and  of  that  line  so  applicable  to  the  parrot's  company — 
"  Bepletum  nautis,  cauponibus,  atque  malignis." 

O.Y. 


TEET-TEET,   THE   PAEEOT.  195 

The  "  house"  heard  once  with  more  decorum 
Phil.  Howard  on  "  the  Bomau  forum."* 

Poll's  brief  address  met  lots  of  caTiUers 
Badgered  by  all  his  fellow-traTellers, 
He  tried  to  mend  a  speech  so  ominous 

By  striking  up  with  "  Dixit  Dominus  !"  300 

But  louder  shouts  of  laughter  follow, — 
This  last  roar  beats  the  former  hollow, 
And  shews  that  it  was  bad  economy 
To  give  a  stave  from  Deuteronomy. 

Posed,  not  abashed,  the  bird  refiised  to 
Indulge  a  scene  he  was  not  used  to  ; 
And,  pondering  on  his  strange  reception, 
"  There  must,"  he  thought,  "  be  some  deception 
In  the  nuns'  riews  of  things  rhetorical, 

And  sister  Hose  is  not  an  oracle.  310 

True  wit,  perhaps,  Hes  not  in  '  mattins,' 
Nor  is  their  school  a  school  of  Athens." 

Thus  in  this  vUlanous  receptacle 
The  simple  bird  at  once  grew  sceptical. 
Doubts  lead  to  hell.    The  arch-deceiver 
Soon  made  of  Poll  an  unbeliever ; 
And  mixing  thus  in  bad  society, 
He  took  French  leave  of  aU.  his  piety. 

His  austere  maxims  soon  he  mollified, 
And  all  his  old  opinions  qualified ;  320 

For  he  had  learned  to  substitute 
For  pious  lore  things  more  astute ; 
Nor  was  his  conduct  unimpeachable, 
For  youth,  alas !  is  but  too  teachable ; 
And  in  the  progress  of  his  madness 
Soon  he  had  reached  the  depths  of  badness. 
Such  were  his  eurses,  such  his  evil 
Practices,  that  no  ancient  devil,+ 
Plunged  to  the  chin  when  burning  hot 
Into  a  holy  water-pot,  330 

Could  so  blaspheme,  or  fire  a  ToUey 
Of  oaths  so  dreair  and  melancholy. 

•  See  "  Mirror  of  Parliament"  for  this  ingenious  person's  maiden 
speech  on  Joe  Hume's  motion  to  alter  and  enlarge  the  old  House  of 
Commons,  "Sir,  the  Somans  (a  laugh) — I  say  the  Romans  (loud 
laughter)  never  altered  their  Forum  "  (roars  of  ditto).  But  Heaven  soon 
granted  what  Joe  Hume  desired,  and  the  old  rookery  was  bm-nt  shortly 
^ter. 

t  "  Bient6t  il  seut  jurer  et  mougreer 

Mieuz  qu'un  vieus  diable  au  fond  d'un  b^nitie£  " 

o  2 


196  FATHEE   PEOTJT'S    EELIQUES. 

Must  the  bright  blossoms,  ripe  and  ruddy, 
And  the  fair  fruits  of  early  study. 
Thus  in  their  summer  season  crossed. 
Meet  a  sad  blight — a  killing  frost  ? 
Must  that  vile  demon,  Moloch,  oust 
Heaven  from  a  young  heart's  holocaust  ?* 
And  the  glad  hope  of  life's  young  promise 
Thus  in  the  dawn  of  youth  ebb  from  us  ?  340 

Such  is,  alas !  the  sad  and  last  trophy 
Of  the  young  rake's  supreme  catastrophe  ; 
For  of  what  use  are  learning's  laurels 
When  a  young  man  is  without  morals  ? 
Bereft  of  virtue,  and  grown  heinous, 
What  signifies  a  brilliant  genius  ? 
'  Tis  but  a  case  for  wail  and  mourning, — 
'  Tis  but  a  brand  fit  for  the  burning ! 

Meantime  the  river  wafts  the  barge. 
Fraught  with  its  miscellaneous  charge,  350 

Smoothly  upon  its  broad  expanse. 
Tip  to  the  very  quay  of  Nantz  ; 
Fondly  within  the  convent  bowers 
The  sisters  calculate  the  hours. 
Chiding  the  breezes  for  their  tardiness, 
And,  in  the  height  of  their  fool-hardiness. 
Picturing  the  bird  as  fancy  painted — 
Lovely,  reserved,  polite,  and  sainted — 
Fit  "Ursuline."     And  this,  I  trow,  meant 
Enriched  with  every  endowment !  960 

Sadly,  alas !  these  nuns  anointed 
Will  find  their  fancy  disappointed ; 
When,  to  meet  all  those  hopes  they  drew  on. 
They'll  find  a  regular  Don  Juan  ! 

€f)t  atDtuII  Wistobetie. 

Scarce  in  the  port  was  this  small  craft 
On  its  arrival  telegraphed, 
When,  from  the  boat  home  to  transfer  him. 
Came  the  nuns'  portress,  "  sister  Jerome." 
Well  did  the  parrot  recognise 

The  walk  demure  and  downcast  eyes  ;  370 

Nor  aught  such  saintly  guidance  reUshed 
A  bird  by  worldly  arts  embellished ; 
Such  was  his  taste  for  profane  gaiety, 
He'd  rather  much  go  with  the  laity. 

•  "  Faut-il  qu'ainsi  I'exemple  seduoteur 

Du  ciel  au  diable  emporte  un  jeune  coeur  ?" 


TEET-VEET,    THE   PAEEuT.  197 

Fast  to  the  bark  he  clung ;  but  plucked  thence, 

He  shewed  dire  symptams  of  reluctance, 

And,  scandaliBing  each  beholder. 

Bit  the  nun's  cheek,  and  eke  her  shoulder !  • 

Thus  a  black  eagle  once,  'tis  said, 

Bore  off  the  struggling  Gbnymede.+  380 

Thus  was  Vert  Vert,  heart-sick  and  weary, 

Brought  to  the  heavenly  monastery. 

The  bell  and  tidings  both  were  tolled, 

And  the  nuns  crowded,  young  and  old, 

To  feast  their  eyes  with  joy  uncommon  on 

This  wondrous  talkatire  phenomenon. 

Bound  the  bright  stranger,  so  amazing 
And  so  renowned,  the  sisters  gazing. 
Praised  the  green  glow  which  a  warm  latitude 
Gave  to  his  neck,  and  liked  his  attitude.  390 

Some  by  his  gorgeous  tail  are  smitten, 
Some  by  his  beak  so  beauteous  bitten ! 
And  none  e'er  dreamt  of  dole  or  harm  in 
A  bird  so  bnUiant  and  so  charming. 
Shade  of  Spurzheim !  and  thou,  Lavater, 
Or  GtiU,  of  "  bumps"  the  great  creator ! 
Can  ye  explain  how  our  young  hero, 
With  all  the  vices  of  a  Nero, 
Seemed  such  a  model  of  good-breeding, 

Thus  quite  astray  the  convent  leading  ?  4<X) 

Where  on  his  head  appeared,  I  a«k  from  ye, 
The  "  nob"  indicative  of  blasphemy  ? 
Methiuks  't  would  puzzle  yoiir  ability 
To  find  his  organ  of  scurrility. 

Meantime  the  abbess,  to  "  draw  out" 
A  bird  so  modest  and  devout, 
With  soothing  air  and'  tongue  caressing 
The  "  pilgrim  of  the  Loire"  addressing, 
Broached  thfe  most  ^difying  topics. 

To  "  start"  this  native  of  the  tropics ;  410 

When,  to  their  scandal  and  amaze,  he 
Broke  forth — "  Morbleu!  those  nuns  are  crazy!" 
(Shewing  how  well  he  learnt  his  task  on 
The  packet-boat  from  that  vile  Q-ascon !) 
"  Pie !  brother  poll !"  with  zeal  outbiirsting, 
Exclaimed  the  abbess,  dame  Augustin ; 

*  "  Les  uns  disent  au  cou, 

D'autres  au  bras  ;  on  ne  sait  pas  bien  ou." 
t  "  Quaiem  ministrum  fulminis  alitem. 

Cui  rex  deorum  regnum  in  aves  vagos 
Commisit,  expertus  fidelem 
Jupiter  in  Gtanymede  flavo."  IIOB. 


198  TATHEE   PEOri's   EELIQTTBS. 

But  all  the  lady's  sage  rebukes 

Brief  answer  got  from  poll—"  Gadzooks  !" 

Way,  'tis  supposed,  he  muttered,  too, 

A  word  folks  write  with  W.  420 

Scared  at  the  sound, — "  Sure  as  a  gun, 

The  bird's  a  demon  !"  cried  the  mm. 

"  O  the  vile  wretch !  the  naughty  dog ! 

He's  surely  Lucifer  incog. 

What !  is  the  reprobate  before  us 

That  bird  so  pious  and  decorous — 

So  celebrated  ?" — Here  the  pilgrim, 

Hearing  sufficient  to  bewilder  him, 

Wound  up  the  sermon  of  the  beldame 

By  a  conclusion  heard  but  seldom —  430 

"Ventre  Saint  Gris!"  "Parbleu!"  and  "Sacre!" 

Three  oaths  !  and  every  one  a  whac/cer ! 

Still  did  the- nuns,  whose  conscience  tender 
Was  much  shocked  at  the  young  offender, 
Hoping  he'd  change  his  tone,  and  alter. 
Hang  breathless  round  the  sad  defaulter : 
When,  wrathful  at  their  importunity, 
And  grown  audacious  from  impunity, 
He  fired  a  broadside  (holy.  Mai-y  !) 

Drawn  from  Hell's  own  Vocabulary !  440 

Forth  like  a  Oongreve  rocket  burst, 
And  stormed  and  swore,  flared  u^  and  cursed! 
Stunned  at  these  sounds  of  import  stygian. 
The  pious  daughters  of  religion 
Fled  from  a  scene  so  dread,  so  horrid. 
But  with  a  cross  first  signed  their  forehead. 
The  younger  sisters;  ttuld  arid  meek. 
Thought  that  the  culprit  spoke  in  (jreek  j 
But  the  old  matrons  aiid  "  the  bench" 

Knew  every  word  was  genuine  French ;  450 

And  ran  in  all  directions,  pell-msH, 
From  a  flood  fit  to  overwhelm  hell. 
'T  was  by  a  fall  that  Mother  Ruth* 
Then  lost  her  last  remaining  tooth. 

"Fine  conduct  this,  and  pretty  guidance  !" 
Cried  one  of  the  most  mortified  ones  ; 
"  Pray,  is  such  language  and  such  ritual 
Among  the  Nevers  nuns  habitual  ? 
'T  was  in  our  sisters  most  improper 
To  teach  such  curses — such  a  whopper  1  460 

*  "  Toutes  pensent  ^tre  Jl  la  fin  du  monde, 
Et  sur  sou  nez  la  m^re  Cunegonde 
Se  laifsant  cheoir,  perd  sa  derniere  dent  1" 


■'Touxes    penseat  e  rre  a  lafin.  d-amonde" 


J'apeJ&S. 


VEET-TEET,    THE    PAEEOT.  199 

He  shan't  by  me,  for  one,  be  hindered 
From  being  sent  back  to  his  kindred !" 
This  prompt  decree  of  Poll's  proscription 
Was  signed  by  general  subscription. 
Straight  in  a  cage  the  nuns  insert        > 
The  guilty  person  of  Vert- Vert ; 
Some  young  ones  wanted  to  detain  him  j 
But  the  grim  portress  took  "  the  paynim" 
Back  to  the  boat,  close  in  his  litter ; 
,         'Tis  not  said  this  time  that  he  hit  her.  470 

Back  to  the  convent  of  his  youth, 

Sojourn  of  innocence  and  truth. 

Sails  the  green  monster,  scorned  and  hated. 

His  heart  with  vice  contaminated. 

Must  I  tell  how,  on  his  return, 

He  BcandaHsed  his  old  sojourn  ? 

And  how  the  guardians  of  his  infancy 

Wept  o'er  their  quondam  child's  delinquency  ? 

What  could  be  done  ?  the  elders  often 

Met  to  consult  how  best  to  soften  480 

This  obdurate  and  hardened  sinner, 

Knish'd  in  vice  ere  a  beginner  !* 

One  mother  counselled  "  to  denounce 

And  let  the  Inquisition  pounce 

On  the  rile  heretic  ;"  another 

Thought  "  it  was  best  the  bird  to  smother !" 

Or  "  send  the  convict  for  his  felonies 

Back  to  his  native  land — the  colonies.'' 

But  milder  views  prevailed.     His  sentence 

Was,  that,  until  he  shewed  repentance,  490 

"  A  solemn  fast  and  frugal  diet, 

Silence  exact,  and  pensive  quiet. 

Should  be  his  lot ;"  and,  for  a  blister. 

He  got,  as  gaoler,  a  lay-sister. 

Ugly  as  sin,  bad-tempered,  jealous, 

And  in  her  scruples  over-zealous. 

A  jug  of  water  and  a  carrot 

Was  all  the  prog  she'd  give  the  parrot  s 

But  every  eve  when  vesper-bell 

Called  sister  Rosalie  from  her  cell,  500 

She  to  Vert- Vert  would  gain  admittance, 

And  bring  of  "  comfits"  a  sweet  pittance. 
•  Implicat  in  terminis.    There  must  have  been  a  beginning,  else  how 
conceive  a, finish  (see  Kant),  unless  the  proposition  of  Ocellus  Luoanus 
be  adopted,  viz.    avapxov  ku  ariKivrawv  to  irav.     Gresset  simply 
has  it — 

"  n  fiit  un  so^lerat 
Proffes  d'abord,  et  sans  noviciat." 


200  TATHBE  PEOTJT'S  EELIQUES. 

Comfits  !  alas  !  can  sweet  confections 
Alter  sour  slavery's  imperfections  ? 
What  are  "  preserves"  to  you  or  me, 
When  locked  up  in  the  Marshalsea  ? 
The  sternest  virtue  in  the  hulks, 
Thoughcrammed  with  richest  sweetmeats,  sulks. 

Taught  by  his  gaoler  and  adversity, 
Poll  saw  the  folly  of  perversity,  510 

And  by  degrees  his  heart  relented : 
Duly,  in  fine,  "  the  lad"  repented. 
His  Lent  passed  on,  and  sister  Bridget 
Coaxed  the  old  abbess  to  abridge  it. 

The  prodigal,  reclaimed  and  free, 
Became  again  a  prodigy, 
And  gave  more  joy,  by  works  and  words, 
Than  ninety-nine  canary-birds, 
tTntil  his  death.     Which  last  disaster 

(Nothing  on  earth  endures !)  came  faster  520 

Than  they  imagined.     The  transition 
From  a  starved  to  a  stuffed  condition, 
Prom  penitence  to  joUification, 
Brought  on  a  fit  of  constipation. 
Some  think  he  wo'ild  be  living  still, 
If  given  a  "Vegetable  Pill ;" 
But  from  a  short  hfe,  and  a  merry, 
Poll  sailed  one  day  per  Charon's  ferry. 

By  tears  from  nuns'  sweet  eyelids  wept, 
Happy  in  death  this  parrot  slept ;  530 

Por  him  Elysium  oped  its  portals. 
And  there  he  talks  among  immortals. 
But  I  have  read,  that  since  that  happy  day 
(So  writes  Cornelius  h,  Lapide,* 

*  This  author  appears  to  have  been  a  favourite  with  Prout,  who 
takes  every  opportunity  of  recording  his  predEeetion  (vide  pages  6  and 
181).  Had  the  Order,  however,  produced  only  such  writers  as  Com^^ 
lius,  we  fear  there  would  have  been  Httle  mention  of  the  Jesuits  in 
connexion  with  literature.  Gresset's  opinion  on  the  matter  is  contained 
in  an  epistle  to  his  c-nfrere  P.  Boujeant,  author  of  the  ingenious 
treatise  Sur  fAme  des  Bites  (see  p.  295)  : — 
Moins  riv&end  qu'aimable  pfere,  Affichekit  la  s^veritl ; 

Vous  dont  I'esprit,  le  caractere,         Et  ne  sortant  de  leur  teaiere 

Et  les  airs,  ne  sont  point  montes     Que  sous  la  lugubre  banni&re 
Sur  le  ton  sottement  austere  De  la  grave  formality, 

De  cent  tristes  patemit^s,  H^ritiers  de  la  triste  encluma 

Qui,  manquajit  du  talent  de  plaire,        De  quelque  pedant  ignor^ 

Et  de  toute  Wg^ret^  Beforgent  quelque  lourd  voliune^ '  ■ 

Pour  dissimuler  la  misfere  Aux  antres  Latins  enterre, 

D'lm  esprit  sans  amiSnit^, 


THE   SOWaS   OF  I'EAirCE.  201 

Proving,  with  commentary  droll, 

The  transmigration  of  the  soul). 

That  still  Vert- Vert  this  earth  doth  haunt, 

Of  conyent  bowers  a  visitant ; 

And  that,  gay  novices  among. 

He  dwells,  transformed  into  a  tongue !  540 


No.  VII. 

THE    SONftS   OE  FEANCE. 

Olf    "WINE,    WAE,    "WOMEN,    "WOODEN     SHOES,     PHILOSOPHT, 
EEO&S,  AND   EEBE   TEADE. 

Chaptbe  I. — Wine  and  Wae. 

■  "  PaVete  linguis  !  Carmina  non  priils 

Audita,  Musarum  sacerdos, 
Virginibus  puerisque  canto." 

Hob.  Carmen  Saculare. 

"  With  many  a  foreign  author  grappling, 
Thus  have  I,  Prout,  the  Muses'  chaplain. 
Traced  on  Eeghna'S  virgin  pages 
Songs  for  '  the  boys '  of  after-ages.'' 

That  illiistrious  utilitarian,  Dr.  Bowring,  tte  knight-errant 
of  free  trade,  who  is  allowed  to  circulate  just  now  without 
a  keeper  through  the  cities  of  Prance,  will  be  in  high  glee 
at  this  October  manifestation  of  Prout's  wisdom.  The 
Doctor  hath  found  a  kindred  soul  in  the  Priest.  To  pro- 
mote the  interchange  of  national  commodities,  to  cause  a 
blending  and  a  chemical  fusion  of  their  mutual  produce,  and 
establish  an  equilibrium  between  our  negative,  and  their 
positive  electricity  ;  such  appears  to  be  the  sublime  aspira- 
tion of  both  these  learned  pundits.  But  the  beneiicial  re- 
sults attendant  on  the  efforts  of  each  are  widely  dissimilar. 
Both  Arcadians,  they  are  not  equally  successful  in  the  rivalry 
of  song.  We  have  to  record  nothing  of  Dr.  Bowring  in  the 
way  of  auqxdrement  to  this  country ;  we  have  gained  nothing 


202  FATHEB  phoitt's  eeliques. 

by  his  labours  :  our  cottons,  our  iron,  our  woollens,  and  our 
coals,  are  still  without  a  passport  to  France  ;  while  in  cer- 
tain home-trades,  brought  by  his  calculations  into  direct 
competition  with  the  emancipated  FrenchJ  we  have  en- 
countered a  loss  on  our  side  to  the  tune  of  a  few  millions. 
Not  so  with  the  exertions  of  Prout :  he  has  enriched  Eng- 
land at  the  expense  of  her  rival,  and  engrafted  on  our  litera- 
ture the  choicest  productions  of  G-allic  culture.  Silently 
and  unostentatiously,  on  the  bleak  top  of  Watergrasshill,  he 
has  succeeded  in  naturalising  these  foreign  Tegetables,  asso- 
ciating himself  ia  the  gratitude  of  posterity  with  the  planter 
of  the  potato.  The  inhabitants  of  these  islands  may  now, 
thanks  to  Prout !  sing  or  whistle  the  "  Songs  of  IVance," 
duty  free,  in  their  vernacular  language  ;  a  vastly  important 
acquisition !  The  beautiful  tunes  of  the  "  Ck  ira  "  and 
"  Charmante  Gabrielle  "  will  become  familiarised  to  our  duU 
ears  ;  instead  of  the  vulgar  "  Peas  upon  a  trencher,"  we  shall 
enjoy  that  barrel-organ  luxury  of  France,  "  Partant  pour  la 
Syrie  ;"  and  for  "  The  Minstrel  Boy  to  the  wars  is  gone," 
we  shall  have  the  original,  "  Malbroock  s'en  va-t-en  guerre." 
"What  can  be  imagined  more  calculated  to  establish  an  har- 
monious understanding  between  the  two  nations,  than  this 
attempt  of  a  benevolent  clergyman  to  join  them  in  a  hearty 
chorus  of  common  melody  ?  a  grand  "  duo,"  composed  of 
bass  and  tenor,  the  roaring  of  the  bull  and  the  croaking  of 
the  frog  ? 

To  return  to  Bowring.  Commissions  of  inquiry  are  the 
order  of  the  day ;  but  some  travelling  "  notes  of  interroga- 
tion "  are  so  misshapen  and  grotesque,  that  the  response  or 
result  is  but  a  roar  of  laughter.  This  doctor,  we  perceive, 
is  now  the  hero  of  every  dinner  of  every  "  Chambre  de  Com- 
merce ;"  his  toasts  and  his  speeches  in  Norman  French  are, 
we  are  told,  the  ne  plus  ultra  of  comic  performance,  towards 
the  close  of  each  banquet.  He  is  now  in  Burgundy,  an  in- 
dustrious labourer  in  the  vineyard  of  his  commission ;  and 
enjoys  such  particular  advantages,  that  Brougham  from  his 
Woolsack  is  said  to  cast  a  jealous  eye  on  his  missionary's  de- 
partment ;  "  invidii  rumpantur  ut  ilia  Codri."  The  whole 
affair  exhibits  that  sad  mixture  of  imbecility  and  ostenta- 
tion too  perceptible  in  aU  the  doings  of  TJtihtarianism.    Of 


THE    SOKGS    OP  TEAIfCB.  203 

whose  commissioners  Phsedrus  has  long  ago  given  the  pro- 
totype : 

"  Est  ardelionum  qusedam  Homee  natio 
"    Trepidfe  ooncursans,  occupata  in  otio, 
Gratis  anhelaus,  multtiin  agendo,  nihil  agens." 

The  publication  of  this  Paper  on  French  Songs  ia  ia- 
tended,  at  this  particular  season,  to  counteract  the  preva- 
lent epidemic,  which  hurries  away  our  population  in  crowds 
to  Paris.  By  furnishing  them  here  at  home  with  GralHc 
fricassee,  vee  hope  to  induce  some,  at  least,  to  remain  in  the 
country,  and  forswear  emigration.  If  our  "preventive 
check  "  succeed,  we  shall  have  deserved  weU  of  our  own 
watering-places,  which  naturally  look  up  to  us  for  protec- 
tion and  patronage.  But  the  girls  will  never  listen  to 
good  advice — 

"  Each  pretty  minx  in  her  conscience  thinks  that  nothing  can  improve 
her, 
Unless  she  sees  the  Tmleries,  and  trips  along  the  Louvre." 

Never  in  the  memory  of  EEGiifA  has  Eegent  Street 
Buffered  such  complete  depopulation.  It  hath  emptied  it- 
self into  the  "  Boulevards."  Our  city  friends  wiU  keep  an 
eye  on  the  Monument,  or  it  may  elope  from  Pudding  Lane 
to  the  "  Place  Vendome :"  but  as  to  the  Thames  flowing 
into  the  Seine,  we  cannot  yet  anticipate  so  alarming  a  phe- 
nomenon, although  Juvenal  records  a  similar  event  as  having 
occurred  in  his  time — - 

"Totus  in  Tyberim  defluiit  Orontes." 

Tet  there  is  still  balm  in  GrUead,  there  is  still  com  in 
Egypt.  The  "  chest "  in  which  old  Prout  hath  left  a  legacy  of 
hoarded  wisdom  to  the  children  of  men  is  open  to  us,  for 
comibrt  and  instruction.  It  is  rich  in  consolation,  and  fraught 
with  goodly  maxims  adapted  to  every  state  and  stage  of  sub- 
lunary vicissitude.  The  treatise  of  Boethius,  "  de  Consola^ 
tione  PhUosophiae,"  worked  wonders  in  its  day,  and  assuaged 
the  tribulations  of  the  folks  of  the  dark  ages.  The  sibylline 
books  were  consulted  in  aU  cases  of  emergency.  Prout's 
strong  box  rather  resembleth  the  oracular  portfoHo  of  the 
Sibyl,  inasmuch  as  it  chiefly  containeth  matters  written  ia 
verse  ;  and  even  in  prose  it  appeareth  poetical.    Versified 


204  FATHDB   I'llOrx'S   EELIQTJES. 

apophthegms  are  always  better  attended  to  than  mere  pro- 
saic crumbs  of  comfort ;  and  we  trust  that  the  "  Songs  of 
Praace,"  which  we  are  about  to  publish  for  the  patriotic 
purpose  above  mentioned,  may  have  the  desired  eflfect. 

"  Canuina  vel  ccelo  possimt  deducere  lunam ; 
Carmine  Di  superi  placantur,  carmine  manes  : 
Ducite  ab  urbe  domum,  mea  carmina^  ducite  Daphnim !" 

When  Saul  went  mad,  the  songs  of  the  poet  David  were 
the  only  effectual  sedatives ;  and  ia  one  of  that  admirable 
series  of  homilies  on  Job,  St.  Chrysostom,  to  fix  the  atten- 
tion of  his  auditory,  breaks  out  in  fine  style :  *Egs  ouv,  aya- 
irrtTi,  rrtg  Aa^idxrjg  xiSa^as  a.vax,gov(fu/x,iv  ro  -^aX/jiixov  /j^iKog,  xa,i 
rtjv  avS^Ciiwvriv  yoovng  rakai'Sugiav  ii'TTu/Jbiv,  xa;  r.  k.  {Serm.  Ill: 
in  Job.)  These  French  Canticles  are,  in  Prout's  manuscript, 
given  with  accompaniment  of  introductory  and  explanatory 
observations,  in  which  they  swim  like  water-fowl  on  the 
bosom  of  a  placid  and  pellucid  lake  ;  and  to  each  song  there 
is  underwritten  an  English  translation,  like  the  liquid  re- 
flection of  the  floating  bird  in  the  water  beneath,  so  as  to 
recall  the  beautiful  image  of  the  swan,  which,  according  to 
the  father  of  "  lake  poetry," 

"  Floats  double — swan  and  shadow." 

Yale  et  fruere ! 

OLIYEE  TOEKE. 
Regent  Street,  lit  Oct.  1834. 


WatergrassMll,  Oct.  1833, 
I  HAVE  lived  among  the  Erench :  ia  the  freshest  dawn  of 
early  youth,  in  the  meridian  hour  of  manhood's  maturity, 
my  lot  was  cast  and  my  lines  fell  on  the  pleasant  places  oi 
that  once-happy  land.  Full  gladly  have  I  strayed  among 
her  gay  hamlets  and  her  hospitable  chateaux,  anon  breaking 
the  brown  loaf  of  the  peasant,  and  anon  seated  at  the  board 
of  her  noblemen  and  her  pontiffs.  I  have  mixed  industri- 
ously with  every  rank  and  every  denomination  of  her  people, 
tracing  as  I  went  along  the  peculiar  indications  of  the  Celt 
and  the'  Prank,  the  Normand  and  the  Breton,  the  langwe 
d'oui  and  the  langue  d'oc;  not  at  the  same  time  overlooking 


THE    SONGS    OE   TEANCE.  205 

the  endemic  featxiies  of  unrivalled  Grascony.  The  manufac- 
turing industry  of  Lyons,  the  Gothic  reminiscences  of  Tours, 
the  historic  associations  of  Orleans,  the  mercantile  enter- 
prise and  opulence  of  Bordeaux,  Marseilles,  the  emporium 
of  the  Levant,  each  claimed  my  wonder  in  its  turn.  It  was 
a  goodly  scene  !  and,  compared  to  the  ignoble  and  debased 
generation  that  now  usurps  the  soil,  my  recollections  of 
ante-revolutionary  France  are  like  dreams  of  an  antediluviaja 
world.  And  in  those  days  arose  the  voice  of  song.  The 
characteristic  cheerfulness  of  the  country  found  a  vent  for 
its  superabundant  joy  in  jocund  carols,  and  music  was  at 
once  the  oifspriug  and  the  parent  of  gaiety.  Sterne,  in  his 
"  Sentimental  Journey,"  had  seen  the  peasantry  whom  he  so 
graphically  describes  in  that  passage  concerning  a  marriage- 
feast — a  generous  flagon,  grace  after  meat,  and  a  dance  on 
the  green  turf  under  the  canopy  of  approving  Heaven.  Nor 
did  the  Irish  heart  of  Goldsmith  (who,  like  myself,  rambled 
on  the  banks  of  the  Loire  and  the  Garonne  with  true  pedes- 
trian philosophy)  fail  to  enter  into  the  spirit  of  joyous 
exuberance  which  animated  the  inhabitants  of  each  village 
through  which  we  passed,  poor  and  penniless,  but  a  poet ; 
and  he  himself  tells  us  that,  vrith  his  flute  iu  his  pocket,  he 
might  not  fear  to  quarter  himself  on  any  district  in  the 
south  of  France, — such  was  the  charm  of  music  to  the  ear 
of  the  natives  in  those  happy  days.  It  surely  was  not  of 
Prance  that  the  poetic  tourist  spoke  when  he  opened  his 
"  Traveller  "  by  those  sweet  verses  that  tell  of  a  loneliness 
little  experienced  on  the  banks  of  the  Loire,  however  felt 
elsewhere — 

"  Eemote,  unfriended,  solitary,  Blow ; 
Or  by  the  lazy  Scheldt,  or  wandering  Po,"  &c. 

For  Goldy,  the  village  maiden  lit  up  her  brightest  smiles ; 
for  him  the  tidy  housewife,  "  on  hospitable  cares  intent," 
brought  forth  the  wheaten  loaf  and  the  well-seasoned  sau- 
sage :  to  welcome  the  foreign  troubadour,  the  master  of  the 
cottage  and  of  the  vineyard  produced  his  best  can  of  wiue, 
never  loath  for  an  excuse  to  drain  a  cheerful  cup  with  an 
honest  fellow ;  for, 

"  Si  ben^  commemini,  causae  sunt  quinque  bibendi : 
Hospitis  adventus,  prsesens  sitis  atque  fatura, 
Vel  Tini  bonitas — vel  quseUbet  altera  causa." 


206  PATHEE   PEOUT's   EELIQTJES. 

All  this  buoyancy  of  spirits,  all  this  plentiful  gladness, 
found  expression  and  utterance  iu  the  national  music  and 
songs  of  that  period ;  which  are  animated  and  liYely  to  ex- 
cess, and  bear  testimony  to  the  brisk  current  of  feeUng  and 
the  exhilarating  influence  from  which  they  sprung.  Ikich 
season  of  the  happy  year,  each  incident  of  primitive  and 
rural  life,  each  occurrence  in  village  history,  was  chronicled 
in  uncouth  rhythm,  and  chanted  with  choral  glee.  The  bap- 
tismal holyday,  the  marriage  epoch,  the  soldier's  return,  the 
".patron  saint,"  the  harvest  and  the  vintage,  "  le  jour  dea 
rois,"  and  "le  jour  de  Noel,"  each  was  ushered  in  with  the 
merry  chime  of  parish  bells  and  the  extemporaneous  out- 
break of  the  rustic  muse.  And  when  meUow  autumn  gave 
place  to  hoary  winter,  the  genial  source  of  musical  inspirac 
tion  was  not  frozen  up  in  the  hearts  of  the  young,  nor  was 
there  any  lack  of  traditionary  ballads  derived  from  the  me- 
mory of  the  old. 

"  lei  le  ehanvTe  pr^par^ 
Toume  autour  du  faeeau  Gtothique, 
Et  BUT  un  banc  tnal  assure 
La  bergere  la  plus  antique 
Chante  la  mort  du  '  Balafr^' 
D'uue  Toix  plaintive  et  tragique." 

"  While  the  merry  fireblocks  kindle. 
While  the  gudewife  twirls  her  spindle. 
Hark  the  song  which,  nigh  the  embers, 

Singeth  yonder  withered  crone ; 
Wen  I  ween  that  hag  remembers 
Many  a  war-taJe  past  and  gone." 

This  characteristic  of  the  inhabitants  of  Gaul,  this  con- 
stitutional attachment  to  music  and  melody,  has  been  early 
noticed  by  the  writers  of  the  middle  ages,  and  remarked  on 
by  her  historians  and  philosophers.  The  eloquent  Salvian 
of  Marseilles  (a.d.  440),  in  his  book  on  Providence  ("de 
Gubematione  Dei"),  says  that  his  fellow-countrymen  had  a 
habit  of  drovming  care  and  banishing  melancholy  with  songs : 
"  Cantilenis  infortunia  sua  solantur."  In  the  old  jurispru- 
dence of  the  Gallic  code  we  are  told,  by  lawyer  de  March- 
angy,  in  his  work,  "  la  Gaule  Po^tique,"  that  aU  the  goods 
and  chattels  of  a  debtor  could  be  seized  by  the  creditor, 
with  the  positive  exception  of  any  musical  instrum^t,  lyre, 


THE    SON&S    or   FEANOE.  207 

bagpipe,  or  flute,  which  happened  to  be  in  the  house  of  mis- 
fortune ;  the  lawgivers  wisely  and  humanely  providing  a 
source  of  consolation  for  the  poor  devil  when  all  was  gone. 
"We  have  still  some  enactments  of  Charlemagne  interwoven 
in  the  labyrinthine  intricacies  of  the  capitularian  law,  having 
reference  to  the  minstrels  of  that  period  ;  and  the  song  of 
Eoland,  who  fell  at  Eoncesvaux  with  the  flower  of  GraUic 
chivalry,  is  still  sung  by  the  grenadiers  of  IVance  : 

"  Soldats  I'ran9ois,  ohantons  Koland, 
L'honneur  de  la  chevalerie,"  &o.,  &o. 

Or,  as  Sir  "Walter  Scott  wiU  have  it, 

"  O  !  for  a  blast  of  that  wild  horn. 
On  Fontarabia's  echoes  borne,"  &o. 

During  the  crusades,  the  minstrelsy  of  IVance  attained  a 
high  degree  of  refinement,  delicacy,  and  vigour.  Never  were 
love-adventures,  broken  hearts,  and  broken  heads,  so  plenti- 
ful. The  novelty  of  the  scene,  the  excitement  of  departure, 
the  lover's  farewell,  the  rapture  of  return,  the  pUgi^im's  tale, 
the  jumble  of  war  and  devotion,  laurels  and  palm-trees — all 
these  matters  inflamed  the  imagination  of  the  troubadour, 
and  ennobled  the  eflFiisions  of  genius.  Oriental  landscape 
added  a  new  charm  to  the  creations  of  poetry,  and  the  bard 
of  chivalrous  Europe,  transported  into  the  scenes  of  volup- 
tuous Asia,  acquired  a  new  stock  of  imagery ;  an  additional 
chord  would  vibrate  on  his  lyre.  Thiebault,  comte  de  Cham- 
pagne, who  swayed  the  destinies  of  the  kingdom  under  Queen 
Blanche,  while  St.  Louis  was  in  Palestine,  distinguished 
himself  not  only  by  his  patronage  of  the  tuneful  tribe,  but 
by  his  own  original  compositions ;  many  of  which  I  have 
overhauled  among  the  MSS.  of  the  King's  Library,  when  I 
was  in  Paris.  Eichard  Coeur  de  Lion,  whose  language, 
habits,  and  character,  belonged  to  Normandy,  was  almost  as 
clever  at  a  ballad  as  at  the  battle-axe :  his  faithful  trouba- 
dour, Blondel,  acknowledges  his  master's  competency  in 
things  poetical.  But  it  was  reserved  for  the  immortal  Een^ 
d'Anjou,  called  by  the  people  of  Provence  le  bon  roy  Reni, 
to  confer  splendour  and  idat  on  the  gentle  craft,  during  a 
reign  of  singular  usefulness  and  popularity.  He  was,  in 
truth,  a  rare  personage,  and  well  'deserved  to  leave  his 


208 


FATHER  PEOFT  S   EELIQUES. 


memory  embalmed  in  the  recollection  of  his  fellow-countrj- 
men.  After  having  fought  in  his  youth  under  Joan  of  Arc, 
in  rescuing  the  territory  of  Prance  from  the  grasp  of  her 
invaders,  and  subsequently  in  the  wars  of  Scander  Beg  and 
Ferdinand  of  Arragon,  he  spent  the  latter  part  of  his  event- 
ful life  iu  diffusing  happiness  among  his  subjects,  and  making 
his  court  the  centre  of  refined  and  classic  enjoyment.  Ais 
in  Provence  vras  then  the  seat  of  civilisation,  and  the  haunt 
of  the  Muses.  While  to  Ren^  is  ascribed  the  introduction 
and  culture  of  the  mulberry,  and  the  consequent  develop- 
ment of  the  silk-trade  along  the  Phone,  to  his  fostering  care 
the  poetry  of  Prance  is  indebted  for  many  of  her  best  and 
simplest  productions,  the  rondeau,  the  madrigal,  the  triolet, 
the  lay,  the  virelai,  and  other  measures  equally  melodious. 
His  own  ditties  (chiefly  church  hymns)  are  preserved  in  the 
BibUothfeque  du  Eoi,  in  his  own  handwriting,  adorned  by 
his  royal  pencil  with  sundry  curious  enluminations  and  alle- 
gorical emblems. 

A  rival  settlement  for  the  "  sacred  sisters"  was  established 
at  the  neighbouring  court  of  Avignon,  w;here  the  temporary 
residence  of  the  popes  attracted  the  learning  of  Italy  and  of 
the  ecclesiastical  world.  The  combined  talents  of  church- 
men and  of  poets  shone  vfith  concentrated  effulgence  in  that 
most  picturesque  and  romantic  of  cities,  fit  cradle  for  the 
muse  of  Petrarca,  and  the  appropriate  resort  of  every  con- 
temporary excellence.  The  pontific  presence  ■  shed  a  lustre 
over  this  crowd  of  meritorious  men,  and  excited  a  spirit  of 
emulation  in  all  the  walks  of  science,  unknown  in  any  other 
European  capital :  and  to  Avignon  in  those  days  might  be 
applied  the  observation  of  a  Latin  poet  concerning  that  small 
town  of  Italy  which  the  residence  of  a  single  important  per- 
sonage sufficed  to  illustrate : 

"  VeioB  habitante  Comillo, 
lUio  Roma  fuit."  ImCAS. 

The  immortal  sonnets  of  Laura's  lover,  written  in  the  polished 
and  elegant  idiom  of  Lombardy,  had  a  perceptible  effect  in 
softening  what  was  harsh,  and  refining  what  was  uncouth, 
in  the  love  songs  of  the  Troubadors,  whose  language  (npt 
altogether  obsolete  in  Provence  at  the  present  time)  beare'S 


THE    SONGS    or   FEANOE.  209 

close  affinity  to  the  Italian.  But  this  "  light  of  song,"  how- 
ever gratifyitig  to  the  lover  of  early  literature,  was  but  a  sort 
of  crepuscular  brightening,  to  herald  in  that  fuU  dawn 
of  true  taste  and  knowledge  which  broke  forth  at  the  appear- 
ance of  Francis  I.  and  Leo  X.  Then  it  was  that  Europe's 
modern  minstrels,  forming  their  lyric  effusions  on  the  im- 
perishable models  of  classical  antiquity,  produced,  for  the 
bower  and  the  banquet,  for  the  court  and  the  camp,  strains 
of  unparalleled  sweetness  and  power.  I  have  already  en- 
riched my  papers  with  a  specimen  of  the  love-ditties  which 
the  amour  of  Francis  and  the  unfortunate  Oomtesse  de 
Chateaubriand  gave  birth  to.  The  royal  lover  has  himself 
recorded  his  chivalrous  attachment  to  that  lady  in  a  song 
which  is  preserved  among  the  MSS.  of  the  Duke  of  Bucking- 
ham, in  the  Bibliothfeque  du  B/oi.     It  begins  thus  : 

"  Ores  que  je  la  tiens  sous  ma  loy, 
Plus  je  regne  amant  que  roy, 
Adieu,  visages  de  cour,"  &c.  &e. 

Of  the  songs  of  Henri  Quatre,  addressed  to  G-abrielle 
d'Etr&s,  and  of  the  ballads  of  Mary  Stuart,  it  were  almost 
superfluous  to  say  a  word  ;  b,ut  in  a  professed  essay  on_  so 
interesting  a  subject,  it  would  be  an  unpardonable  omission 
not  to  mention  two  such  illustrious  contributors  to  the 
minstrelsy  of  France. 

From  crowned  heads  the  transition  to  Maitre  Adam  (the 
poetic  carpenter)  is  rather  abrupt ;  but  he  deserves  iaost 
honourable  rank  among  the  tuneful  brotherhood.  Without 
quitting  his  humble  profession  of  a  joiner,  he  published  a 
volume  of  songs  (Eheims,  1650)  under  the  modest  title  of 
"  Dry  Chips  and  Oak  Shavings  from  the  Workshop  of  Adam 
BiUaud."  Many  of  his  staves  are  right  weU  put  out  of 
hand.  But  he  had  been  preceded  by  Clement  Mar&t,  a  most 
cultivated  poet,  who  had  given  the  tone  to  French  versifica- 
tion. Malherbe  was  also  a  capital  lyric  writer  in  the  gran- 
diose style,  and  at  times  pathetic.  Then  there  was  Ilonsard 
and  Panard.  Jean  de  Meun,  who,  with  Gruillaume  de  Lorris, 
concocted  the  "  Eoman  de  la  Eose :"  Villon,  Charles  d'Or- 
Hans,  Gringoire,  Alain  Chartier,  Bertaut,  and  sundry  others 
of  the  old  school,  deservedly  challenge  the  antiquary  and 
critic's  commendation.    The  subsequent  glories  of  Voiture, 


210  TATHEB  PEOn'S   EELIQUES. 

Scuderi,  Dorat,  Boufflers,  Morian,  Eaean,  and  Chalieu,  would 
claim  their  due  share  of  notice,  if  the  modem  lyrics  of 
Lamartine,  Victor  Hugo,  Andr^  Chenier,  Chateaubriand,  and 
DelaTigne,  like  the  rod  of  the  prophet,  had  not  swallowed 
up  the  inferior  speUa  of  the  magicians  who  preceded  them. 
But  I  cannot  for  a  moment  longer  repress  my  enthusiastic 
admiration  of  one  who  has  arisen  in  our  days,  to  strike  in 
Prance,  with  a  master-hand,  the  lyre  of  the  troubadour,  and 
to  fling  into  the  shade  aU  the  triumphs  of  bygone  minstrelsy. 
Need  I  designate  B^ranger,  who  has  created  tor  himself  a 
style  of  transcendent  vigour  and  originality,  and  who  has 
sung  oi  war,  love,  and  wine,  in  strains  far 'excelling  those  of 
Blondel,  Tyrtseus,  Pindar,  or  the  Teian  bard.  He  is  now 
the  genuine  representative  of  G-allic  poesy  in  her  convivial, 
her  amatory,  her  warlike,  and  her  philosophic  mood :  and  the 
plenitude  of  the  inspiration  that  dwelt  successively  in  the 
souls  of  all  the  songsters  of  ancient  Prance  seems  to  have 
transmigrated  into  B&anger,  and  found  a  fit  recipient  in  his 
capacious  and  liberal  mind : 

"  As  some  bright  river,  that,  firom  fall  to  fall 
In  many  a  maze  descending,  bright  in  all, 
Finds  some  fair  region,  where,  each  labyrinth  past, 
In  one  full  lake  of  light  it  rests  at  last." — Lalla  Rookh. 

Let  me  open  the  small  volume  of  his  chansons,  and  take  at 
venture  the  first  that  offers.  Good !  it  is  about  the  grape. 
Wine  is  the  grand  topic  with  all  poets  (after  the  ladies)  ; 
hear  then  his  account  of  the  introduction  of  the  grape  into 
Burgundy  and  Champagne,  effected  through  the  instrumen- 
tality of  Brennus.  , 

33«nnu)S,  Ci^c  ^ong  of  33i-tnnu3, 

Ou   la   Vigne  phmtie  dans  les  Or  the  Introduction  of  the  Grape 

Gaules.  into  France. 

Tune— "The  Night  before  Larry." 
Brennus  disait  aux  bons  Gaulois,      WhenBremius  came  back  here  from 

"  Cel^brez  un  triomphe  inaigne !  Eome, 

Les  champs  de  Home  ont  pay^  mes       These  words  he  is  said  to  have 
exploits,  spoken : 

Et  j'enrapporteun  cepde vigne;   "We  have  conquered,  my  boys! 
Priv^s  de  son  jus  tout-puissant,  and  brought  home 

A  sprig  of  the  vine  for  a  token ! 


Fl/fHSr  P'Lflfl'fll 


iiF  rail's  rins:  w  eavt.,,,  \ 


THE    SONGS   OF  TEAIfOB. 


211 


Un  jour,  par  ce  raisin  Tenneil 

Dea  peuples  vous  serez  I'enTie  j 
Dans  son  nectar  plein  des  feus  du 
Boleil 
Tons  les  arts  pniseront  la  vie. 

Quittaut  nos  bords  faToris&, 
Mille  vaisseaux  iront  sur  I'onde 
Oharg&  de  vins  et  de  fleurs  pa- 

voises. 
Porter  la  joie  autour  dn  pionde. 


Nous  arons  vaincu  pour  en       Cheer,  my  hearties!  and  welcome 
boire;  to  Gaul 

Sur  nos  ooteaux  que  le  pampre  na-       This  plant,  which  we  won  from 
issant  the  foeman ; 

Serve  ht  couronner  la  riotoire.         'Tis  enough  to  repay  us  for  all 

Our  trouble  in  beating  the  Ro- 
man ; 

Bless  the  gods  !  and  bad 
luck  to  Sa.6  geese ! 

O  !  take  care  to  treat  well  the  fair 
.  guest, 
Prom  the  blasts  of  the  north  to 
protect  her  J 
Of  your  hiUooks,  the  sunniest  and 
best  _ , 
Make  them  hers,  for  the  sake  of 
'  her  nectar. 
She  shall  nurse  your  young  Gauls 
with  her  juice; 
Give  life'  to  '  the  arts'  in  liba- 
tions ; 
While  your  ships  round  the  globe 
■    shall  pi"oduce 
Her  goblet  of  joyfor  all  nations — 
!E'en  the  foeman  shall 
taste  of  our  cup. 
The  exile  who  flies  to  our  hearth 
She.  shall  soothe,  all  iis  sorrows 
redressing '; 
For^^the  Vine  is  the  parent  of  mirth. 
And  to  sit  in  its  shade  is  a  bless- 
■      ing." 
So  the  soil  Brennus  dug  with  his 
'  lance, 
'Mic(  the  crowd  of  Gavil's  war- 
riors and  sages ; 
And  our,  forefathers  grim,  of  gay 
SVance 
Got  a  glimpse  through  the  vista 

■  .      ,  of  ages^ 

■  "  And   it  gladdened  the 

hearts  of  the  Gauls  ! 

Such  is  the  classical  and  genial  range  of  thought'  ia  which 
Bdranger  lores  to  indulge,  amid  the  unpretending  effusions 
of  a  professed  drinking  song ;  embodying  his  noble  and  pa- 
triotic aspirations  ia  the  simple  form  of  an  historical  anec- 
dote, or  a  light  and  fanciful  allegory.     He     ' 


Bacchus !  embeUis  nos  destins  ! 
TJn  people  hospitaller  te  prie, 
Faie- qu'un -proscrit,  assis  ^  nos 


Oublie  un  moment  sa  patrie." 
Brprinus  alors  bennit  les  CSeux, 
Greuse  la  terre  avee  sa  lance, 
Plante  la  vigne!  et  les   Gaulois 
joyeiix 
Dans  i'aveuir  ont  vu  "La 
France!" 


abounds 
2 


in 


212 


FATHEE  PEOUt's   EELIQTJES. 


pliilantliropic  sentiments  and  generous  outbursts  of  pas- 
sionate eloquence,  which  come  on  the  feelings  unexpectedly, 
and  never  fail  to  produce  a  corresponding  excitement  ia  the 
heart  of  the  listener.  I  shall  shortly  return  to  his  glorious 
canticles  ;  but  meantime,  as  we  are  on  the  chapter  of  wine, 
by  way  of  contrast  to  the  style  of  B&anger,- 1  may  be  al- 
lowed to  introduce  a  drinking  ode  of  a  totally  different  cha- 
racter, and  which,  from  its  odd  and  original  conceptions, 
and  harmless  jocularity,  I  think  deserving  of  notice.  It  is, 
besides,  of  more  ancient  date ;  and  gives  an  idea  of  what 
songs  preceded  those  of  Beranger. 


Ew  lEIogcs  »c  I'lSau. 


H  pleut !  il  pleut  enfln ! 

Et  la  vigne  altfrfo 

Va  se  voir  reataurfo 
Par  un  bienfait  divin. 
De  I'eau  chantons  la  gloire, 

On  la  meprise  en  vain, 
C'est  I'eau  qui  nous  fait  boire 

Du  vin !  du  vin !  du  vin ! 

C'est  par  I'eau,  j'en  conviens. 

Que  Dieu  fit  le  deluge ; 

Mais  ce  Bouveraiu  Juge 
Mit  le  mal  prfes  du  bien ! 
Du  dfluge  I'histoire 

Fait  nattre  le  raisin  ; 
C'est  I'eau  qui  nous  fait  boire 

Du  vin !  du  vin !  du  vin ! 

Ah !  combien  je  jouis 
Quand  la  rivifere  apporte 
Des  vins  de  toute  sorte 

Et  de  touB  les  pays  ! 

Ma  cave  est  men  armoire — 
A  I'instant  tout  est  plein ; 

C'est  I'eau  qui  nous  fait  boire 
Du  Tin !  du  vin !  du  vin ! 

Par  un  terns  sec  et  beau 
Le  meunicr  du  village, 
Se  morfond  sans  ouvrage, 

II  ne  bolt  que  de  I'eau ; 


Mine  JBebtov  to  OTatcr. 
Ant — "  Life  let  ua  cherish." 

Eain  best  doth  nourish 

Earth's  pride,  the  budding  vine ! 
Grapes  best  will  flourish 

On  vfhich  the  dewdrops  shine. 
Then  why  should  water  meet  with  scorn. 

Or  why  its  claim  to  praise  resign  ? 
When  from  that  bounteous  source  is  bom 

The  vine !  the  vine  !  the  vine ! 

Kain  best  disposes 

Earth  for  each  blossom  and  each  bud  j 
True,  we  are  told  by  Moses, 

Once  it  brought  on  "  a  flood :" 
But  while  that  flood  did  all  immerse, 

AH  save  old  Noah's  holy  line, 
Pray  read  the  chapter  and  the  verse— 

The  vine  is  there !  the  vine ! 

Wine  by  water-carriage 

Round  the  globe  is  best  conveyed  j 
Then  why  disparage 

A  path  for  old  Bacchus  made  ? 
When  in  our  docks  the  cargo  lands 

Which  foreign  merchants  here  consign, 
The  wine's  red  empire  wide  expands — 

Th6  vine !  the  vine !  the  vine ! 

Bain  makes  the  miUer 

Work  his  glad  wheel  the  Kvelong  day ; 
Bain  brikgs  the  siller. 

And  drives  dull  care  awav  : 


THE    SONGS   OP  FEAlfCE.  213 

n  rentre  dans  sa  gloire  For  without  rain  he  lacks  the  stream, 
Quand  I'eau  reutre  au  And  fain  o'er  watery  cups  must  pine  j 

moulin ;  But  when  it  rains,  he  coiu'ts,  I  deem, 

C'est  I'eau  qui  lui  fait  boire         The  vine !  the  vine  !  the  yine  !* 
Du  vin !  du  vin !  du  Tin ! 

Faut-il  un  trait  nouyeau  ?  Though  all  good  judges 

Mes  amis,  je  le  guette ;  Water's  worth  now  understand, 

Voyez  k  la  guinguette  Mark  yon  ohiel  who  drudges 

Entrer  ce  porteur  d'eau !  With  buckets  in  each  hand ; 

H  y  perd  b.  memoire  He  toils  with  water  through  the  town, 
Des  travaux  du  matin  ;  TIntil  he  spies  a  certain  "  sign," 

Cest  I'eau  qui  lui  fait  boire  Where  entering,  all  his  labour  done, 
Du  vin !  du  Tin  !  du  Tin  !        He  drains  thy  juice,  O  vine  ! 

Mais  h,  Tous  chanter  I'eau  But  pure  water  singing 

Je  sens  que  je  m'alt&re  ;  Dries  full  soon  the  poet's  tongue ; 

Donnez  moi  Tite  une  verre  So  crown  all  by  bringing 
Du  doux  jus  du  tonneau —  A  draught  drawn  from  the  bung 

Ce  vin  vient  de  la  Loire,  Of  yonder  cask,  that  ,wine  contains 

Oubiendesbords  duEhin;        Of  Loire's  good  vintage  or  the  Bhine 

Cest  I'eau  qui  nous  fait  boire  Queen  of  whose  teeming  margin  reigns 

Du  vin  !  du  vin !  du  vin !        The  vine !  the  vine !  the  Tine ! 

A  "  water-poet"  is  a  poor  creature  in  general,  and  though 
limpid  and  lucid  enough,  the  foregoing  runs  at  a  very  low 
level.  Something  more  lofty  in  lyrics  and  more  in  the  Pin- 
daric vein,  ought  to  follow ;  for  though  the  old  Theban  him- 
self opens  by  striking  a  key-note  about  the  excellence  of 
that  element,  he  soon  soars  upward  far  above  low-water 
mark,  and  is  lost  in  the  clouds — 

"  Multa  Diroeum  levat  aura  cycnum ;" 

yet,  in  his  highest  flight,  has  he  ever  been  wafted  on  more 
daring  and  vigorous  pinions  than  Beranger  ?  This  will  be 
at  once  seen.  Search  the  racing  calendar  of  the  Olympic 
turf  for  as  majiy  olympiads  as  you  please,  and  in  the  horse- 
poetry  you  will  find  nothing  better  than  the  "  Cossack'a 
Address  to  his  Charger." 

*  This  idea,  containing  an  apparent  paradox,  has  been  frequently 
worked  up  in  the  quaint  writing  of  the  middle  ages.  There  is  an  old 
Jesuits'  riddle,  which  I  learnt  among  other  wise  saws  at  their  colleges, 
from  which  it  will  appear  that  this  Miller  is  a  regular  Joe. 

Q,  "  Suave  bibo  vinum  quoties  mihi  suppetit  unda ; 
Undaque  si  desit,  quid  bibo  ?" 

ill.  "  Tristis  aquam !" 


214  FATHEE  PEOXIT'S   EEIiIQTTES. 

Ee  C^ant  Uu  Cosaque. 

Viene,  mon  coureier,  noble  ami  du  Cosaque^ 

Vole  au  signal  des  trompettes  du  nord ; 
Prompt  au  pillage,  intrepide  h  I'attaque, 

Pr^te  sous  moi  des  ailes  a  la  mort. 
li'or  n'em-ichit  ni  ton  frein  ni  ta  seUe, 

Mais  attends  tout  du  prix  de  mes  exploito  s 
Hennis  d'orgueU,  6  mon  eoursier  fidele, 

Et  foule  aux  pieds  les  peuples  et  les  rois. 

Xia,  paix  qui.  fuit  m'abandonne  tes  guides, 

La  Tieille  Europe  a  perdu  ses  remparts ; 
Viens  de  tr^sors  combler  mes  mains  ayides, 

Viens  reposer  dans  1'  asile  des  arts, 
Eetourne  boire  h,  la  Seine  rebelle, 

Oil,  tout  sanglant,  tu  t'es  lave  deux  fois  ; 
Hennis  d'orgueil,  6  mon  eoursier  fidMe, 

Et  foule  aux  pieds  les  peuples  et  les  rois. 

Comme  en  un  fort,  princes,  nobles,  et  prfetrei, 

Tons  assi%&  par  leurs  sujets  souiTrans, 
Nous  ont  crie  :  Venez,  soyez  nos  maitres — 

Nous  serons  serfs  pour  demeurer  tyrans  ! 
J'ai  pris  ma  lance,  et  tous  Tont  devant  eUe 

Humilier,  et  le  sceptre  et  la  croix  : 
Hennis  d'orgueil,  6  mon  eoursier  fidele, 

Et  foule  aux  pieds  les  peuples  et  les  rois. 

J'ai  d'un  g^ant  tu  le  fant6me  immense 

Sur  nos  bivouacs  fixer  un  ceU  ardent ; 
H  s'&ria :  Mon  ihgne  recommence ; 

Et  de  sa  hache  il  montrait  1' Occident  j 
Du  roi  des  Huns  o'Aait  1' ombre  immortelle  s 

Kls  d'Attila,  j'obeis  k  sa  voix 
Hennis  d'orgueil,  6  mon  eoursier  &dh]e, 

Et  foule  aux  pieds  les  peuples  et  les  rois. 

Tout  cet  iclat  dont  I'Europe  est  si  fifere. 

Tout  ce  savoir  qui  ne  la  defend  pas, 
S'engloutira  dans  les  flots  de  poussiere 

Qu'autour  de  moi  vont  soulever  tes  pas 
Efface,  efiace,  en  la  course  nouveUe, 

Temples,  palais,  moeurs,  souvenirs,  et  loie 
Hennis  d'orgueil,  6  mon  eoursier  fidele, 

Et  fotile  aux  pieds  les  peuples  et  les  roia. 


THE   SONGS  or   FEANCE.  215 


Wi)e  Bianq  of  ti)t  CoiSSacfe. 

Come,  arouse  thee  up,  my  gallant  horse,  and  bear  thy  rider  on ! 
The  comrade  thou,  and  the  friend,  I  trow,  of  the  dvfeller  on  the 

Don. 
Pillage  and  Death  have  spread  their  wings !   'tis  the  hour  to  hie 

thee  forth,  « 

And  with  thy  hoofs  an  echo  wake  to  the  trumpets  of  the  North ! 
Nor  gems  nor  gold  do  men  behold  upon  thy  saddle-tree ; 
But  earth  affords  the  wealth  of  lords  for  thy  master  and  for  thee. 
Then  fiercely  neigh,  my   charger  grey !  —  thy  chest  is  proud   and 

ample ; 
Thy  hoofs  shall  prance  o'er  the  fields  of  France,  and  the  pride  of  her 

heroes  trample ! 

Europe  is  weak — she  hath  grown  old — her  bulwarks  are  laid  low ; 
She  is  loath  to  hear  the  blast  of  war— she  ehrinketh  from  a  foe ! 
Come,  in  our  turn,  let  us  sojourn  in  her  goodly  haimts  of  joy — 
In  the  pillar'd  porch  to  wave  the  torch,  and  her  palaces  destroy ! 
Proud  as  when  first  thou  slak'det  thy  thirst  in  the  flow  of  conquer'd 

Seine, 
Aye  shalt  thou  lave,  within  that  wave,  thy  blood-red  flanks  again. 
Then  fiercely  neigh,  my  gallant  grey !  —  thy  chest  is  strong  and 

ample! 
Thy  hoofs  shall  pranee  o'er  the  fields  of  Prance,  and  the  pride  of  her 

heroes  trample ! 

Kings  are  beleaguer'd  on  their  thrones  by  their  own  vassal  crew ; 
And  in  their  den  quake  noblemen,  and  priests  are  bearded  too  ; 
And  loud  they  yelp  for  the  Cossacks'  help  to  keep  their  bondsmen 

down. 
And  they  think  it  meet,  while  they  kiss  our  feet,  to  wear  a  tyrant's 

crowu ! 
The  sceptre  now  to  my  lance  shall  bow,  and  the  crosier  and  the  cross 
Shall  bend  alike,  when  I  lift  my  pike,  and    aloft  THAT   boeptbb 

toss! 
Then  proudly  neigh,  my  gallant  grey!  —  thy   chest  is  broad  and 

ample ; 
Thy  hoofs  shall  prance  o'er  the  fields  of  Pranee,  and  the  pride  of  her 

heroes  trample ! 

In  a  night  of  storm  I  have  seen  a  form ! — and  the  figure  was  a  giant, 

And  his  eye  was  bent  on  the  Cossack's  tent,  and  his  look  was  all  de- 
fiant ;  > 

Kingly  his  crest  —  and  towards  the  West  with  his  battle-aie  he 
pointed ; 

And  the  "form"  I  saw  was  Attixa!  of  this  earth  the  scotu-ge 
anointed. 


216  FATHEE  PEOTTt's   EELIQtTES. 

From  the  CosBaok's  camp  let  the  horseman's  tramp  the  coming  crash 

announce ; 
Let  the  vulture  whet  his  beat  sharp  set,  on  the  carrion  field  to  pomioe ; 
And  proudly  neigh,  my  charger  grey  !—0  !  thy  cheat  is  broad  and 

ample; 
Thy  hoofs  shall  prance  o'er  the  fields  of  Prance,  and  the  pride  of  her 

heroes  trample ! 

What  boots  old  Europe's  boasted  fame,  on  which  she  builds  reUauce, 
When  the  North  shall  launch  its  avalanche  on  her  works  of  art  and 

science  ? 
Hath  she  not  wept  her  cities  swept  by  our  hordes  of  trampling 

staUions  ? 
And  tower  and  arch  crush'd  in  the  march  of  our  barbarous  battalions  ? 
Can  we  not  wield  our  fathers'  shield  ?  the  same  war-hatchet  handle  ? 
Do  our  blades  want  length,  or  the  reapers'  strength,  for  the  harvest 

of  the  Vandal  ? 
Then  proudly  neigh,  my  gallant  grey,  for  thy  chest  is  strong  and 

ample ; 
And  thy  hoofs  shall  prance  o'er  the  fields  of  France,  and  the  pride  of 

her  heroes  trample ! 

In  the  foregoing  glorious  song  of  tte  Cossack  to  his 
Horse,  Beranger  appears  to  me  to  have  signally  evinced  that 
peculiar  talent  discoverable  in  most  of  his  lyrical  imperson- 
ations, which  enables  him  so  completely  to  identify  himself 
with  the  character  he  undertakes  to  portray,  that  the  poet 
is  lost  sight  of  in  the  all-absorbing  splendour  of  the  theme. 
Here  we  have  the  mind  hurried  away  with,  irresistible  grasp, 
and  flung  down  among  the  wild  scenery  of  the  river  Don, 
amid  the  tents  of  the  Scythians  and  an  encampment  of  the 
North.  If  we  are.  sufficiently  dull  to  resist  the  impulse  that 
would  transport  our  rapt  soul  to  the  region  of  the  poet's 
inspiration,  still,  even  on  the  quiet  tympanum  of  our  effe- 
minate ear,  there  cometh  the  sound  of  a  barbarian  cavalry, 
heard  most  fearfully  distinct,  thundering  along  the  rapid 
and  sonorous  march  of  the  stanza ;  the  terrific  spectre  of 
the  King  of  the  Huns  frowns  on  our  startled  fancy :  and 
we  look  on  this  sudden  outpouring  of  B^ranger's  tremendous 
poetry  vnth  the  sensation  of  Virgil's  shepherd,  awed  at  the 
torrent  that  sweeps  down  from  the  Apennines, — 

"  Stupet  inscius  alto 
Accipiens  sonitum  saxi  de  vertice  pastor." 

There  is  more  where  that  came  from.    And  if,  instead  of 


THE   SOfi-aS    OF  rBAWCE.  217 

oriental  imagery  and  "  barbaric  pearl  and  gold,"  camels, 
palm-trees,  bulbuls,  houris,  frankincense,  silver  veils,  and 
other  gewgaws  witb  vfhich  Tom  Moore  has  glutted  the 
market  of  literature  in  his  "  LaUa  Eookh,"  we  could  pre- 
vail on  our  poetasters  to  use  sterner  stuff,  to  dig  the  iron 
inines  of  the  North,  and  send  their  Pegasus  to  a  week's 
training  among  the  Cossacks,  rely  on  it  we  should  have  more 
vigour  and  energy  in  the  bone  and  muscle  of  the  winged 
animal.  Drawing-room  poets  should  partake  of  the  rough 
diet  and  masculine  beverage  of  this  hardy  tribe,  whose 
cookery  has  been  described  in  "  Hudibras,"  and  of  whom 
the  swan  of  Mantua  gently  singeth  with  becoming  admir- 
ation : 

"  Et  lac  concretum  cum  sanguine  potat  equino." 

Lord  Byron  is  never  more  spirited  and  vigorous  than 
when  he  recounts  the  catastrophe  of  Mazeppa ;  and  in  the 
whole  of  the  sublime  rhapsody  of  "  Childe  Harold,"  there 
is  not  a  line  (where  all  breathes  the  loftiest  enthusiasm)  to 
be  compared  to  his  northern  slave, 

"  Butchered  to  make  a  Eomau  holyday !" 

He  is  truly  great,  when,  in  the  fulness  of  prophetic  inspi- 
ration, he  calls  on  the  Goths  to  "  arise  and  glut  their  ire  !" 
However,  let  none  woo  the  muse  of  the  North,  without 
solid  capabilities  :  if  Moore  were  to  present  himself  to  the  ■ 
nymph's  notice,  I  fear  he  would  catch  a  Tartar. 

The  "  Songs  of  Prance,"  properly  so  called,  exhibit  a  fund 
of  inexhaustible  good-humour,  at  the  same  time  that  they 
are  fraught  with  the  most  exalted  philosophy.  Addison 
has  written  a  "commentary"  on  the  ballad  of  "Chevy 
Chase ;"  and  the  public  is  indebted  to  him  for  having  re- 
vealed the  recondite  value  of  that  excellent  old  chant :  but 
there  is  a  French  lyrical  composition  coeval  with  t^e  En- 
glish baUad  aforesaid,  and  containing  at  least  an  equal 
quantity  of  contemporary  wisdom.  The  opening  verses  may 
give  a  specimen  of  its  wonderful  range  of  thought.  Thej 
run  thus : 

"  Le  bon  roy  Dagobert 
Avait  mis  sa  culotte  ^  I'envers : 
Le  bon  Saint  Eloy 


218  FATHEE  PEOTTT's   EELIQUES. 

Lui  dit,  '0  mon  roy ! 

Votre  majeste 

S'est  mal  oulott^ !' 

'  Eh  bien,'  dit  ce  bon  roy, 

'  Je  vads  la  remettre  k  Tendroit.'  "* 

I  do  not,  as  in  other  cases,  follow  up  this  IVench  quota- 
tion by  a  literal  version  of  its  meaning  ia  English,  for  several 
reasons  ;  of  which  the  principal  is,  that  I  intend  to  revert 
to  the  song  itself  in  my  second  chapter,  when  I  shall  come 
to  treat  of  "  frogs"  and  "  wooden  shoes."  But  it  may  be 
well  to  instruct  the  superficial  reader,  that  in  this  apparently 
simple  stanza  there  is  a  deep  blow  aimed  at  the  imbecility 
of  the  then  reigning  monarch ;  and  that  under  the  cuhtte 
there  Ueth  much  hidden  mystery,  explained  by  one  Sartor 
Eesartus,  Professor  Teufelsdrockh,  a  German  philosopher. 

Confining  myself,  therefore,  for  the  present,  to  wine  and 
war,  I  proceed  to  give  a  notable  war-song,  of  which  the  tune 

*  Dagobert  II.,  Icing  of  Australisia,  was  conveyed  away  in  his  infeney 
to  Ireland,  according  to  the  historians  of  the  country,  by  orders  of  a 
designing  maire  du  palais,  who  wished  to  get  rid  of  him.  (See  Mezeray, 
Hist,  de  Fran. ;  the  Jesuit  Daniel,  Hist.  Franc. ;  and  Abbe  Mao  Geoghe- 
han,  Hist,  d'lrlande.)  He  was  educated  at  the  school  of  Liamore,  bo 
celebrated  by  the  venerable  Bede  as  a  college  of  European  reputation. 
His  peculiar  manner  of  wearing  his  trowsers  would  seem  to  hiave  been 
learned  in  Cork.  St.  Eloi  was  a  brassfounder  and  a  tinker.  He  is  the 
patron  of  the  Dublin  corporation  guild  of  smiths,  who  call  him  (igno- 
rantly)  St.  Loy.  This  saint  was  a  good  Latin  poet.  The  king,  one  day 
going  into  his  chariot,  a  clumsy  contrivance,  described  by  BoUeau — 

"  Quatre  bceufs  attells,  d'un  pas  tranquil  et  lent, 
Promenaient  dans  Paris  le  monarque  indolent" — 

was,  as  usual,  attended  by  his  favourite,  Eloi,  and  jokingly  asked  him 
to  make  a  couplet  extempore  before  the  drive.  Eloi  stipulated  for  the 
wages  of  song  ;  and  having  got  a  promise  of  the  two  oxen,  launched  out 
into  the  foEowing — 

"  Ascendit  Dagobert,  veniat  bos  unus  et  alter 
In  nostrum  stabulum,  carpere  ibi  pabulum !" 

King  Dagobert  was  not  a  bad  hand  at  Latin  verses  himself,  for  he  is 
supposed  to  have  written  that  exquisite  elegy  sung  at  the  dirge  for  th« 
dead — 

"Dies  irse,  dies  ilia 
Solvet  seeclum  in  favilM, 
Teste  David  cum  sibylli,"  &o. 


THE    SONGS   01'   TEANCE. 


219 


is  well  known  throughout  Europe,  but  the  words  and  the 
poetry  are  on  the  point  of  being  effaced  from  the  superficial 
memory  of  this  flimsy  generation.  By  my  recording  them 
in  these  papers,  posterity  wUl  not  be  deprived  of  their  racy 
humour  and  exquisite  nawetS  :  nor  shall  a  future  age  be  re- 
duced to  confess  with  the  interlocutor  in  the  "  Eclogues,"  "nu- 
meros  metnini,  si  verba  tenerem."  Who  has  not  hummed  in  his 
lifetime  the  immortal  air  of  MALBEOtrcK  ?  Still,  if  the  best 
antiquary  were  called  on  to  supply  the  origiaal  poetic  com- 
position, such  as  it  burst  on  the  world  in  the  decline  of  the 
classic  era  of  Queen  Anne  and  Louis  XIY.,  I  fear  he  would 
be  unable  to  gratify  the  curiosity  of  an  eager  public  in  so 
interesting  an  inquiry.  For  many  reasons,  therefore,  it  is 
highly  meet  and  proper  that  I  should  consign  it  to  the  im- 
perishable tablets  of  these  written  memorials  :  and  here,  then, 
followeth  the  song  of  the  lamentable  death  of  the  illustrious 
John  Churchill,  which  did  not  take  place,  by  some  mistake, 
but  wa^  nevertheless  celebrated  as  follows  : 


IMalliroucfe. 

Malbrouok  s'en  va-t-en  guerre, 
Mi  ron  ton,  ton  ton,  mi  rou  taine, 
Malbronck  s'en  va-t-en  guerre, 
On  n's^ait  qusmd  ilreviendra.  [ter. 


H  reviendra  k  P3,queB, 

Mi  ron  ton,  ton  ton,  mi  ron  taine, 

H  reviendra  k.  Pdques, 

Ou  ilia  Trinity.  [_ter. 

Xia,  Triuite  se  pa^se, 

Mi  ron  ton,  ton  ton,  mi  ron  taine, 

la'Trihit^  se  paase, 

Malbrouck  ne  revient  pas.      [ter. 

Madame  ^  sa  tour  monte, 
Mi  ron  ton,  ton  ton,  mi  ron  taine, 
Madame  ^  sa  tour  monte,      ,     . 
Leplus  hautqu'onpeutmonter.  {ter. 

Bile  voit  venir  un  page, 

Mi  ron  ton,  ton  ton,  mi  ron  taine, 

Elle  voit  venir  un  page 

De  noir  tout  habill&  Ifer. 


Plalbrourfe. 

Malbrouot,  the  prince  of   com- 
manders, 
la  gone  to  the  war  in  Flanders  j 
His  fame  is  like  Alexander's  ; 
But  when  wUl  he  come  home  ?  [ier. 

Perhaps  at  Trinity  Feast,  or 
Perhaps  he  may  come  at  Easter. 
Egad !  he  had  better  make  haste,  or 
We  fear  he  may  never  come.  [ter. 

For  "  Trinity  Feast"  is  over, 
And  has  brought  no  news  from 

Dover ; 
And  Easter  is  past,  nioreover ; 
And  Malbrouck  still  delays,    [ter. 

Milady  in  her  watch-tower 
Spends  many  a  pensive  hour, 
Not  well  knowing  why  or  how  her 
Dear  lord  from  Bnglandstays.  [ter. 

While  sitting  quite  forlorn  in 
That  tower,  she  spies  returning 
A  page  clad  in  deep  mourning, 
With  fainting  steps  and  slow.  [<er. 


220 


FATHEE  PEOTJT's   EELIQUES. 


Mon  pagg,  6  mon  beau  page, 
Mi  ron  ton,  ton  ton,  mi  ron  taine, 
Mon  page,  6  mon  beau  page, 
Quelle  nouvelle  apportez  ?      [ter. 

La  nouvelle  que  j'apporte, 

Mi  ron  ton,  ton  ton,  mi  ron  taine. 

La  nouvelle  que  j'apporte 

Voa  beaux  yeux  vout  pleurer.  [ter. 

Monsieur  Malbrouok  est  mort, 
Mi  ron  ton,  ton  ton,  mi  ron  taine, 
Monsieur  Malbrouok  est  mort. 
Est  mort  et  enterr^.*  [_ter. 

Je  I'ai  Tu  porter  en  terre, 

Mi  ron  ton,  ton  ton,  mi  ron  taine, 

Je  I'ai  vu  porter  en  terre 

Par  quatrez'  offioiers.  [ter. 

L'un  portait  son  grand  sabre, 
Mi  ron  ton,  ton  ton,  mi  ron  taine, 
L'un  portait  son  grand  sabre, 
L'autre  son  bouoller.  [ter. 


"  O  page,  prithee,  come  faster 
What  news  do  you  bring  of  your 

master  ? 
I  fear  there  is  some  disaster. 
Your  looks  are  so  full  of  woe."  [ter. 

"  The  news  I  bring,  fair  lady," 
With  sorrowful  accent  said  he, 
"  Is  one  you  are  not  ready 
So  soon,  alas !  to  hear.  [ter. 

But  since  to  speak  I'm  hurried," 
Added  this  page,  quite  flurried, 
"  Malbrouok  is  dead  andburied  !"— 
(And  here  he  shed  a  tear.)      [ter, 

"He'sdead!  he's  dead  as  aherring! ; 
For  I  beheld  his  '  berring,' 
And  four  officers  transferring 
His  corpse  away  from  thefield.per. 

One  officer  carried  his  sabre,    , 
And  he  carried  it  not  without  la- 
bour. 
Much  envying  his  next  neighbour, 
Who  only  bore  a  shield.         [ter. 

The  thii-d  was  hehnet-bearer^i 
That  helmet  which  on  its  wearer 
KHed  all  who  saw  with  terror. 
And  covered  a  hero's  brains,  [ter. 

Now,  having  got  so  far,  I 
rind  that  (by  the  Lord  Harry !) 
The  fourth  is  left  nothing  to  carry  j  ^ 
So  there  the  thing  remains."  [ter. 


Le  troisi&me  son  casque. 
Mi  ron  ton,  ton  ton,  mi  ron  taine, 
Le  troisieme  son  casque, 
Fanache  renvers^.  [ter. 

L'autre,  jene  sgais  pas  bien. 
Mi  ron  ton,  ton  ton,  mi  ron  taine, 
L'autre,  je  ne  S9ais  pas  bien, 
Mais  je  crois  qu'il  ne  portait  rien. 
[ter. 

Such,  0  pUegmatic  iiihal)itants  of  these  countries !  is  the 
celebrated  funeral  song  of  Malbrouck.  It  is  what  we  would 
in  Ireland  caU  a  keen  over  the  dead,  with  this  difference, 
that  the  lamented  deceased  is,  among  us^  generally  dead 
outright,  with  a  hole  in  his  skull;  whereas  the  subject  of 
the  pathetic  elegy  of  "  Monsieur"  was,  at  the  time  of  its 
composition,  both  aUve  and  kicking  all  before  him.  It  may 
not  be  uninteresting  to  learn,  that  both  the  tune  and  the 
words  were  composed  as  a  "  lullaby"  to  set  the  infant  Dau- 

*  Kfirai  UarpoKXas'  venvnQ  Sr)  filn^t/iaxovTai 


THE    SONGS   or   EBANCE.  221 

phin  to  sleep ;  and  that,  haTing  succeeded  in  the  object  of 
soporific  efficacy,  the  poetess  (for  some  make  Madame  de 
Sevigne  the  authoress  of  "  Malbrouck,"  she  being  a  sort  of 
L.  E.  L.  in  her  day)  deemed  historical  accuracy  a  minor 
consideration.  It  is  a  fact,  that  this  tune  is  the  only  one 
relished  by  the  South  Sea  islanders,  who  find  it  "  most 
musical,  most  melancholy."  Chateaubriand,  in  his  Itineraire 
de  Jerusalem,  says  the  air  was  brought  from  Palestine  by 
Crusaders. 

As  we  have  just  given  a  war-song,  or  a  lullaby,  I  shall 
introduce  a  different  subject,  to  avoid  monotony.  I  shall 
therefore  give  the  poet  Stranger's  famous  ode  to  Dr.  Lard- 
ner,  concerniug  his  Cyclopaedia.  The  occasion  which  gave 
rise  to  this  lyrical  effusion  was  the  recent  trip  of  Dionysius 
Lardner  to  Paris,  an.d  his  proposal  (conveyed  through  Dr. 
f  Bowring)  to  Beranger,  of  a  handsome  remuneration,  if  the 
\  poet  would  sing  or  say  a  good  word  about  his  "  Cabinet  Cyclo- 
psedia,"  which  Dr.  Bowring  translated  as  "  son  Encyclop^die 
des  Cabinets"  (d'aisanee  ?)  Lardner  gave  the  poet  a  dinner 
on  the  strength  of  the  expected  commendatory  poem,  when 
■the  foUowing  song  was  composed  after  the  third  bottle : 

iL'<£pee  tie  3@amofle£i.  %%i  ©tniur  of  l^tonyiSiuji. 

De  Damocles  I'^pfe  est  bien  connue,  O !  who  hath  not  heard  of  the  sword 

En  songe  a  table  il  m'a  sembl^  la  which  old  Denuia 

voir :  Hung  over  the  head  of  a  Stoie  ? 

Sous  cette  ^pee  et  mena9ante  et  And  how  the  stern  sage  bore  that 

nue,  terrible  menace 

Denis  I'ancien  me  for^ait  ^  m'as-  With  a  fortitude  not  quite  he- 

seoir.  roic  ? 

Je  m'^criais  que  mou  destiu  s'a-  There's  a  Dennis  the  "tyrant  of 

cheve —  Cecily"  *  hight. 

La  coupe  en  main,  au  doux  bruit  (Most  sincerely  I  pity  his  lady, 

ces  concerts,  ah !) 

O  vieux  Denis,  je  me  ris  de  ton  Now  this  Dennis  is  dooihed  for  his 

glaive,  sins  to  indite 

Je  bois,  je  chante,  et  je  siffle  tes  A  "  Cabinet  Cyclopaedia."           / 

vers ! 

"  Que  du  m^pris  la  haine  au  mdins  He  pressed  me  to  dine,  and  ha 
me  sauve !"  placed  on  my  head 

Dit  ce  pedant,  qui  rompt  xm  fil  An  appropriate  garland  of  poppies  j 
leger; 

*  Dr.  L.  had  then  a  bill  before  the  lords  for  divorce  from  his  first 
wife,  Cecilia  Flood,  niece  of  the  celebrated  Ii'ish  orator. 


222  TATHEE  PEOri'S  EEIIQUES. 

Le  fer  pesant  tombe  sur  ma  tfete   And,  lo !   from  the  ceilmg  there 
chauve,  hung  by  a  thread 

J'entenda  ces  mots,  "Denis  S9ait   A  bale  of  tmealeable  copies. 

se  Tenger !"  "  Puff  my  writings,"  he  cried,  "  or 

Me  Toil^  mort  et  poursuirant  mon  your  skuU  shall  be  crushed !" 

rfive —  "  That  I  cannot,"  I  answered,  with 

La  coupe  en  main,  je  r^pfete  am  honesty  flushed, 

enfers,  "Be    your   name    Dionysius    op 

O  vieux  Denis,  je  me  ris  de  ton  Thady,  ah ! 

glaive,  Old  Dennis,  my  boy,  though  I  were 

Je  bois,  je  chante,  et  je  sifflie  tes  to  enjoy 

vers!  But  one-  glass  and  one  song,  still 

one  laugh,  loud  and  long, 
I  should  have  at  your  Cyolopsedia." 

So  adieu,  Dr.  Lardner,  for  tlie  present,  ass  in  prasenti ; 
and  turn  we  to  other  topics  of  song. 

The  eye  of  the  connoisseur  has  no  doubt  detected  sundry 
latent  indications  of  the  poet's  consummate  drollery ;  but 
it  is  in  ennobling  insignificant  subjects  by  reference  to  his- 
torical anecdote  and  classic  allegory,  that  the  delicate  tact 
and  singular  ability  of  Beranger  are  to  be  admired.  It  wUl 
be  in  the  recollection  of  those  who  have  read  the  accom- 
plished fabulist  of  Eome,  Phsedrus,  that  he  commends  Si- 
monides  of  Cos  for  his  stratagem,  when  hired  to  sing  the 
praise  of  some  obscure  candidate  for  the  honours  of  the 
Olympic  race-course.  The  bard,  finding  no  material  for 
verse  in  the  Hfe  of  his  vulgar  hero,  launched  into  an  enco- 
mium on  Castor  and  Pollux,  twin-brothers  of  the  olden  turf. 
Bdranger  thus  exemplifies  his  most  homely  subject  by  the 
admixture  of  Greek  and  Eoman  associations.  The  original 
is  rather  too  long  to  be  transcribed  here ;  and  as  my  trans- 
lation is  not,  in  this  case,  a  literal  version,  the  less  it  is  con- 
fronted with  its  prototype  the  better.  The  last  stanza  I  do 
not  pretend  to  understand  rightly,  so  I  put  it  at  the  bottom 
of  the  page  in  a  note,*  supposing  that  my  readers  may  not 
be  so  blind  as  I  confess  I  am  concerning  this  intricate  and 
enigmatical  passage  of  the  ode. 

*  "  Diogene !  sous  ton  manteau, 

Libre  et  content,  je  ris,  je  bois,  sans  gSne ; 

Libre  et  content,  je  roule  mon  tonneau ! 
Lauteme  en  main,  dans  I'Athenes  modeme 

Cheroher  un  homme  est  un  desseia  fort  beau ! 
Mais  quand  le  soir  voit  biiller  ma  lanteme, 

O'est  aui  amours  qu'elle  sert  de  flambeau." 


THE   SOIfaS  OP  PEANCE.  223 

According!  to  Beranger,  Songster. 

My  dwelling  is  ample, 

And  I've  set  an  example 
For  all  lovers  of  wine  to  foUow 

If  my  home  you  should  ask, 

I  have  drain' d  out  a  cask. 
And  I  dwell  in  the  fragrant  hollow! 
A  disciple  am  I  of  Diogenes — 
O  !  his  tub  a  most  classical  lodging  is ! 
'Tis  a  beautiful  alcove  for  thinking ; 
'Tis,  besides,  a  cool  grotto  for  drinking: 
Moreover,  the  parish  throughout 
You  can  readily  roll  it  about. 
O !  the  berth 

For  a  lover  of  mirth 
To  revel  in  jokes,  and  to  lodge  in  ease, 
Is  the  classical  tub  of  Diogenes ! 

In  politics  I'm  no  adept. 
And  into  my  tub  when  I've  crept. 
They  may  canvass  in  vain  for  my  vote. 
For  besides,  after  all  the  great  cry  and  hubbub, 
Bbfobm  gave  no  "  ten  pound  franchise"  to  my  tub  ; 

So  your  "  bill"  I  don't  value  a  groat! 
And  as  for  that  idol  of  filth  and  vulgarity, 
Adorned  now-a-days,  and  yclept  Popularity, 
To  my  home 
Should  it  come. 
And  my  hogshead's  bright  aperture  darken, 
Think  not  to  such  summons  I'd  hearken. 
No !  I'd  say  to  that  goule  grim  and  gaunt, 
VUe  phantom,  avaunt ! 
Get  thee  out  of  my  sight ! 
For  thy  clumsy  opacity  shuts  out  the  light 
Of  the  gay  glorious  sun 
From  my  classical  tun. 
Where  a  hater  of  cant  and  a  lover  of  fan 
Fain  would  revel  in  mirth,  and  would  lodge  in  ea.5e— 
The  classical  tub  of  Diogenes ! 

In  the  park  of  St.  Cloud  there  stares  at  you 
A  pillar  or  statue 
Of  my  liege,  the  phUoaopher  cynical; 
There  he  stands  on  a  pinnacle^ 


224  FATHEE  PEOn's  EEIIQUES. 

And  his  lantern  is  placed  on  the  ground. 

While,  with  both  eyes  fixed  ■wholly  on 

The  favourite  haunt  of  Napoleon, 
"  A  MAW !"  he  exclaims,  "  by  the  powers,  1  hare  found !" 
But  for  me,  when  at  eve  I  go  sauntsring 
On  the  boulevards  of  Athens,  "  Love"  carries  my  lantern ; 
And,  egad !  though  I  walk  most  demurely, 
For  a  man  I'm  not  looking  full  surely; 
Nay,  I'm  sometimes  brought  drvmk  home, 
Like  honest  Jack  Beeve,  or  like  honest  Tom  Duncombe. 
O !  the  nest 
For  a  lover  of  jest 

To  revel  in  fun,  and   to  lodge  in  ease, 

Is  the  classical  tub  of  Diogenes  ; 

So  mucli  for  tlie  poet's  capability  of  embellishing  what 
IS  vulgar,  by  the  magic  wand  of  antique  recollections  :  pro- 
prii  communia  dicer e,  is  a  secret  as  rare  as  ever.  When 
Hercules  took  a  distaflf  in  hand,  he  made  but  a  poor  spinner, 
and  broke  all  the  threads,  to  the  amusement  of  his  mistress; 
Beranger  would  have  gracefully  gone  through  even  that 
minor  accomplishment,  at  the  same  time  that  the  war-club 
and  the  battle-axe  lost  nothing  of  their  power  when  wielded 
by  his  hand.     Such  is  the  versatility  of  genius ! 

Can  any  thing  compare  with  the  following  ode  of  this 
very  songster  of  "  the  tub,"  who  herein  shews  strikingly 
with  what  facility  he  can  diversify  his  style,  vary  his  tone, 
run  "  through  each  mood  of  the  lyre,  a  master  in  aU !" 

Ee  33tg;ton  PfS^agtr.  %\t  Carvter^Bofie  of  atf)cnS. 

Chanson,  1822.  A  Dream,  1822. 

L'AibriUait,  etma  jexmemaitresse  Helen  sat  by  my  side,  and  I  held 

Chantait  les  dieux  dans  la  Grfece  To  her  lip  the  gay  cup  in  my 

oublies ;  bower. 

Nous  comparions  notre  France  ^  When  a  bird  at  our  feet  we  beheld, 

la  Grece,  As  we  talked  of  old  Greece  in  . 

Quand  un  pigeon  vint  s'abattre  that  hour  j 

&  nos  pieds.  And  his  wing  bore  a  burden  of 

Naeris  decouvre  un  billet  sous  son  love, 

aile ;  To  some  fair  one  the  secret  soul 

H  le   portait  vers  des   foyers  telling — 

cWris —  O  drink  of  my  cup,  carrier-dove! 

Bois  dans  ma  coupe,  O  messager  And   sleep  on  the    bosom  of 

fidele !  Helen. 
Et  dors  en  pais  sur  le  sein  de 
Nseris. 


THE   SONQS   OP   PEANCE. 


225 


H  est  tombe,  las  d'vm  trop-long 
voyage ; 
Bendons-lui  vite  et  force  et  li- 
berty. 
D'un  traffiquant  remplit-il  le  mes- 
sage? 
Va-t-il    d'amour    parler    k   la 
beauts  ? 
Peut-^tre  il  porte  au  nid  qui  le 
rappfelle 
Les  derniera  voeux  d'm&rtun& 
proscrits — 
Bois  dans  ma  coupe,  O'  messager 
fidele ! 
Et  dors  en  paix  sur  le  sein  de 
BTsBris. 

Mais  du  billet  quelques  mots  me 
font  croire 
Qu'il  est  en  France  3.  des  Grecs 
apporte ; 
II  vient  d'Athenes ;  U  doit  parler 
de  gloire ; 
Lisons-le  done  par  droit  de  pa- 
rente— 
"  Athhie  est  libre  !"  Amis,  quelle 
nouTelle ! 
Que  de  lauriers  tout-^coup  re- 
fleuris — 
Bois  dans  ma  coupe,  O  messager 
fidfele! 
Et  dors  en  pais  sur  le  sein  de 
Hasris. 

Athene  est  libre !  Ah !  buTOns>&  la 
Grfeoe ! 
Nseris,  Toiei  de  nouveaiir.demi- 
dieux! 
L'Europe  en  vain,  tremblante  de 
viellesse, 
Desheritait  cea  alnes  glorieux. 
Us  sent  vain  queurs!  Athfenes,  tou- 
jours  belle, 
N'est  plus  vouee  au  culte  des 
debris ! — 
Bois  dans  ma  coupe,  O  messager 
fidMe ! 
Et  dors  en  paix  sur  le  sein  de 
Keeris. 


Thou  art  tired — rest  awhile,  and 
anon 
Thou  shalt  soar,  with  new  energy 
thrilling. 
To  the  land  of  that  far-off  fair  one. 
If  such  be  the  task  thou'rt  ful- 
filling ; 
But  perhaps  thou  dost  waft  the 
last  word 
Of  despair,  wrung  from  yalour 
and  duty — 
Then  drink  of  my  cup,  carrier- 
bird! 
And  sleep  on   the    bosom    of 
Beauty. 

Ha  !  these  lines  are  from  Greece ! 
Well  I  knew 
The  loved  idiom !    Be  mine  the 
perusal. 
Son  of  France,  I'machild  of  Greece 
too; 
And  a  kinsman  will  brook  no 
refusal.  , 

"  Greece  is  free!"  all  the  gods  have 
concurred 
To  fill  up  our  joy's  brimming 
measure — 
O  drink  of  my  cup,  carrier  bird ! 
And  sleep  on  the  bosom  of  Plea- 
sure. 


Greece  is  free !  Let  us  drink  to  that 
land. 
To  our  elders  in  fame !    Did  ye 
merit 
Thus  to  struggle  alone,  glorious 
band! 
From  whose  sires  we  our  free- 
dom inherit  f 
The    old    glories,   which    kings 
would  destroy, 
Greece  regains,  never,  never  to 
lose  'em ! 
O  drink  of  my  cup,  bird  of  joy ! 
And  sleep  on  my  Helen's  soft 
bosom. 


Q 


226 


JATHEE  PEOXJT  S   EELIQUES. 


Atliine  est  litre !  O,  muse  des  Pin- 
dares, 
Beprends  ton  sceptre,  et  talyre, 
et  ta  Toix ! 
Athfeue  est  libre,  en  depit  des  bar- 
bares  ! 
Athfene  est  libre,  en  depit  de  nos 
rois  ! 
Que  I'uniTers  toujours,instrmt  par 
elle, 
RetrouTe  encore  Ath%nes  dans 
Paris — 
Bois  dans  ma  coupe,  O  messager 
fldele  ! 
Et  dors  en  paix  sur  le  sein  de  Nseris. 

Beau  Toyageur  du  pays  des  Hel- 
lenes, 
Bepose-toi ;    puis    Tole    ^    tea 
amours ! 
Vole,    et    bient&t,   reporte    dans 
Athenea, 
Eeviens  brarer  et  tyrans  et  vau- 
tours. 
A  tant  des  rois  dont  le  trdne  chan- 
cele, 
D'un  peuple  libre  apporte  en- 
core lea  oris — 
Bois  dans  ma  coupe,  O  mesaager 
fidMe ! 
Etdorsenpaixsurle  seindeJN^eeris. 

After  this  specimen  of  Stranger's  poetic  powers  in  the 
sentimental  line,  I  shall  take  leave  of  him  for  the  remainder 
of  this  chapter  ;  promising,  however,  to  dravsr  largely  on  his 
inexhaustible  exchequer  when  next  I  levy  my  contributions 
on  the  Prench.  But  I  cannot  get  out  of  this  refined  and 
delicate  mood  of  quotations  without  indulging  in  the  luxury 
of  one  more  ballad,  an  exquisite  one,  from  the  pen  of  my 
favourite  MiHevoye.  Poor  young  fellow !  he  died  when  full 
of  promise,  in  early  life  ;  and  these  are  the  last  lines  his  pale 
hand  traced  on  paper,  a  few  days  before  he  expired  in  the  pretty 
village  of  Neuilly,  near  Paris,  whither  he  had  been  ordered 
^y  the  physician,  in  hopes  of  prolonging,  by  country  air,  a 
life  so  dear  to  the  Muses.    Listen  to  the  notes  of  the  swan ! 

•  It  would  be  an  insult  to  tbe  classic  scholar  to  remind  him  that 
Beranger  has  taken  the  hint  of  this  song  from  Anacreon'a  Epaff/ii!) 
jrtXtia,  woOtv,  irodtv  Tttraaaai,  ode  15,  (Juxta  cod.  Fatic.) — Pbout. 


Muse  of  Athens !  thy  lyre  quick 
reaume ! 
None  thy  anthem  of  freedom 
shall  hinder : 
ffive  Anaoreon  joy  in  his  tomb, 

Audgladden  the  ashes  of  Pindar. 
Helen !  fold  that  bright  bird  to  thy 
breast, 
Nor  permit  him  henceforth  to 
desert  you — 
O  drink  of  my  cup,  winged  guest ! 
And    sleep    on   the    bosom    of 
Virtue. 


But  no,  he  muat  hie  to  his  home. 
To  the  neat  where  his  bride  is 
awaiting ; 
Soon  again  to  oiu^   climate   he'll 
come. 
The  young  glories  of  Athens  re- 
lating, 
The  baaeneaa  of  kiflgs  to  reprove, 
To  blush  our  vile  rulers  com- 
pelling ! — 
Then  drink  of  my  goblet,  0  dove! 
And  sleep  on  the  breast  of  my 
Helen.* 


THE    SONGS    or   rEANCE. 


227 


^rit^  pour  IHoi.    JRomance. 

NeuUly,  Octohre,  1820. 

Dana  la  solitaire  botirgade, 

Berant  a  ees  mauz  tristeiuent, 
Languissait  un  pauvre  malade, 

D'un  mal  qui  le  va  oonsumant : 
II  disait,  "  G-ens  de  la  chaumi^re, 
Voici  I'heure  de  la  priere, 

Et  le  tintement  du  befroi ; 

Vous  qui  priez,  priez  pour  moi ! 


33iajj  for  IKt.    aJSnllatt. 

By  Millevoye,  on  his  Death-ied  at 
the  Village  ofNeuilly. 

Silent,  remote,  this  hamlet  seems — 
How  hush'd  the  breeze  !  the  eve 
how  cahn ! 
light  through  my  dying  chamber 
beams. 
But  hope  comes  not,  nor  heal- 
ing balm. 
Eind  yillagers  !    Q-od  bless   your 
shed! 
Hark  !  'tis  for  prayer — the  even- 
ing bell — 
Oh,  stay !  and  near  my  dying  bed, 
Maiden,  for  me  your  rosary  tell ! 

When  leaves  shall  strew  the  water- 
fall, 
In  the  sad  close  of  autumn  drear. 
Say,  "  The  sick  youth  is  freed  from 
all 
The  pangs  and  wo  he  suffered 
here." 
Somay  ye  speak  of  liim  that's  gone; 
But  when  your  belfry  toUs  my 
knell. 
Pray  for  the  soul  of  that  lost  one — 
Maiden,  for  me  your  rosary  tell ! 

Oh !  pity  her,  in  sable  robe,. 

Who  to  my  grassy  grave  will.come: 
If  or  seekahiddenwoundto  probe—- 
She  was  my  love !  — point  out  my 
tomb  ; 
Tell  her  my  life  should  have  been, 
hers — ■ 
'Twas  but  a  day  L— God's  wiU !— ■ 
'tis  well :: 
But  weep  with  her,  kind  villagers ! 
Maiden^for  me  your  rosary  teE ! 

Simple,  unaffected,  this  is  true  poetry,  and  goes  to  the 
heart.  One  ballad  like  the  foregoing  is  worth  a  cart-load  of 
soi-disant  elegies,  monodies,  soliloquies,  and  "  bards'  lega- 
cies." Apropos  of  melodies,  I  just  now  recollect  one  in 
Tom's  own  style,  which  it  would  be  a  pity  to  keep  from  him.. 
To  save  him  the  trouble  of  appropriating  it  I  have  done  the 

«2. 


Mais  quand  vous  verrez  la  cascade 
S'ombrager  de  sombres  rameaux, 

Yous  direz,  '  Le  jeune  malade 
Est  deUvre  de  tous  ses  maux.' 

Alors  revenez  sur  cette  rrve. 

Chanter  la  complainte  naive, 
Et  quand  tintera  le  befroi, 
Tous  qui  priez,  priez  pour  moi ! 


Ma  compagne,  ma  seule  amie,, 

Digne  objetd'unconstantamour! 
Je  lui  avals  eonsaore  ma  vie, 

Helas !  je  ne  vis  qu'un  jour ! 
Plaiguez-la,  gens  de  la  chaumiere, 
I/orsque,  k  I'heure  de  la  priere, 

Elle  viendra  sous  le  befroi ; 

Vous  qui  priez,  priez  poiu:moi!" 


228  TATHEE  PEOTTT'S   EEMQrES. 

job ;  and  it  may  challenge  competition  with  his  best  concetti 
and  most  far-fetched  similes.  It  is  from  an  old  troubadour 
called  Pierre  Eonsard,  from  whom  he  has  picked  up  many  a 
good  thing  ere  now. 

La  poudre  qui  dans  ce  cristal  Dear  Tom,  d'ye  see  the  rill 

Le  cours  des  heures  nous  retrace,  Of  sand  within  this  phial  ? 

Lorsque  dans'  un  petit  canal  It  runs  like  in  a  mill, 

SouTent  eUe  passe  et  repasse.  And  tells  time  like  a  dial. 

Fut  Eonsard,  qui,  un  jour,  morbleu!  That  sand  was  once  Ronsard, 

Par  les  beaux  yeuxde  saClytandre  TiU  Bessy  D***  look'd  at  him.* 

Soudain  fut  transforme  en  feu.  Her  eye  burnt  up  the  bard — 

Et  il  n'en  reste  que  la  oendre.  He's  pulverised !  an  atom ! 

Cendre !  qui  ne  t'arretes  jamais,  Now  at  this  tale  so  horrid, 

Tu  t^moigneras  une  chose,  Pray  learn  to  keep  your  smUe  hid, 

C'est  qu'ayant  vu  detels  attraits,  For  Bessy's  zone  is  "torrid," 

Le  cOBur  onqu^s  ne  repose.  And  fire  is  in  her  eyeMd.t 

Who,  after  this  sample  of  !French  gallantry,  will  refuse 
to  that  merry  nation  the  sceptre  of  supremacy  in  the  de- 
partment of  love-songs  ?  Indeed,  the  language  of  polite 
courtship  is  so  redolent  among  us  of  French  origin,  that  the 
thing  speaks  for  itself.  The  servant-maid  in  the  court  of 
•Pilate  found  out  Peter  to  be  from  Galilee  by  his  accent ; 
and  so  is  the  dialect  of  genuine  Gaul  ever  recognized  by 
the  fair.  Pelits  soins — air  distingu6 — faite  an  tour — naivete 
- — billet  doux — affaire  de  cosui — boudoir,  &c.  &c.,  and  a  thou- 
sand other  expressions,  have  crept,  in  spite  of  us,  into  our 

*  A  gipsy  had  cautioned  M.  de  la  Mothe  Vayer  against  going  too 
near  a  dyke  ;  but  in  defiance  of  the  prophecy  he  married  a  demoisellfl 
De  la  Fosse : 

"  In  foved  qui  te  moriturum  dixit  haruspei 
Non  mentitus  erat ;  conjugis  iUa  fuit !"  O.  Y. 

t  Eonsard  has  no  claim  to  this  ingenious  concetto  :  it  is  to  be  found 
among  the  poems  of  Jerome  Amalthi,  who  flourished  in  the  14th  century. 
"  Perspicuo  in  vitro  pulvis  qui  dividit  horas, 
Et  vagus  angustum  ssepe  recurrit  iter, 
Olim  erat  Alcippus,  qui,  GallsB  ut  vidit  ooellos, 

Arsit,  et  eat  cseco  factus  ab  igne  cinis. 
Irrequiete  cinis  !  miserum  testabere  amantem 
More  tuo  nuUA  posse  quiete  frui." 


"Mv-.ot  TMti    by-  Mnoa^ili'-TtiJ:  a.lone 


THE    SONas   OE   JEANCE.  229 

every-day  usage.*  It  was  so  with  the  Eomans  in  reference 
to  Greek,  the  favourite  conversational  vehicle  of  gallantry 
among  the  loungers  along  the  Via  Sacra  :  at  least  we  have 
(to  say  nothing  of  Juvenal)  the  authority  of  that  excellent 
critic,  Quintilian,  who  informs  us  that  his  contemporaries, 
in  their  sonnets  to  the  Roman  ladies,  stuffed  their  verses 
with  Greek  terms.  I  think  his  words  are:  "  Tanto  est 
sermo  G-reecus  Latino  jucundior,  ut  nostri  poetse,  quoties 
carmen  dulce  esse  voluerunt,  iUorum  id  nominibus  exor- 
nent."  (Quint,  xii.  cap.  10;  sec.  33.)  And  again,  in  another 
passage,  he  says  (lib.  x.  cap.  1),  "  Ita  ut  mihi  sermo  Eo- 
manus  non  recipere  videatiir  illam  solis  concessam  Atticis 
Venerem."  This  is  the  Arrixov  /SXE-ros,  Aristophanes  (Nubes, 
1176).  Addison,  in  his  "Spectator,""  complains  of  the 
great  number  of  military  terms  imported,  during  the, Marl- 
borough campaigns,  from  the  fighting  dictionary  of  Prance  : 
the  influx  of  this  slang  he  considered  as  a  great  disgrace  to 
his  fellow-countrymen,  a  humiliating  badge  of  foreign  con- 
quest not  to  be  tolerated.  Nevertheless,  chevaux  de  frise — 
hors  de  combat — aide  de  camp — iipit — etat  major— brigade — 
and  a  host  of  other  locutions,  have  taken  such  root  in  our 
soil,  that  it  were  vain  to  ,  murmur  at  -  the  circumstance  of 
their  foreign  growth. 

By  way  of  reprisals,  since  we  have  inflicted  on  them  our 
budget  of  steamboat  and  railway  nomenclature,  I  think  it  but 
fair  to.make  some  compen|Sation  to  the  French  for  aU  the  sen- 
timental matters  derived  from  their  vocabulary ;  and  I  there- 
fore, conclude  this  first  essay  on  their  Songs  by  giving"  them 
a  specimen  of  our  own  love-ditties,  translated  as  yell  as 
my  old  hand  can  render  the  yotmg  feelings. of  passionate 
endearment  into  appropriate  Ftench  expi^essibn : ' 

augustu£i  OTiaBt.  ^bfie  Uj  JBroMt. 

Meet  me  by  moonlight  alone,  Viens  au   bosquet,  ce  soir,  sana 

And  then  I  will  tell  you  a  tale  tfeoin. 

Must  be  told  by  the  Hght  of  the  Dans  le  vallon,  au  clair  de  la 

moon,  lune  j 

In  the  grove  at  the  end  of  the  Ce  que  Ton  t'y  dira  n'a  besoin 

vale.  Ni  de  jour  ni  d'oreiUe  impor- 
tune. 

*  In  King  James  I.'s  reign  a  Latin  play,  enacted  at  Westminster 
Sfthool,  has  in  the  prologue,  "Iji*  habeas  /rencham  qu&  possis  Tincere 
ivAencham." 


230 


TATHEB  TEOrT'S   EELIQTJES. 


O  remember !  be  sure  to  be  there  j 
For  though  dearly  the,  moon- 
light I  prize, 
care  not  for  all  in  the  air, 
If  I  -want  the   sweet  light  of 
thine  eyes. 
Then  meet  me  by  moonlight 
alone.      ' 


Mais    surtout    reuds-toi  U,  sans 
faiUir, 
Car  la  lune  a  bien  moins  de  In- 
'  miere 

Que  I'amour  n'en  89ait  faire  jaillir 
De  ta  languissante  paupiere. 
Sois  au  bosquet  au  clair  de  la 
lune. 


Pour  les  coeui's  saus  amour  le  jour 
luit, 
Le  soleil  aux  froids  pensers  pre* 
side ; 
Mais  la  pale  clarte  de  la  nuit 

Favorise  I'amant  et  le  guide. 
Les  fleurs  que  son  disque  argentin 
Colore,  en  toi  verrontileur  reine. 
Quoi !  tu  baisses  ce  regard  divin, 
Jeune  beaute,  vraiment  souve- 
raine  ? 
£ends-toi  Ik  done  au  clair  de 
la  lune. 


Daylight  was  made  for  the  gay, 
For  the  thoughtless,  the  heart- 
less, the  free  ; 
But  there's  something  about  the 
moon's  ray 
That  is  dearer  to  you,  love,  and 
me. 
Oh!  be  sui'e  to  be  there !  for  I  said 
I  would    shew  to    the    night- 
flowers  their  queen. 
Nay,  turn  not   aside    that  sweet 
head — 
'lis   the   fairest  that  ever  was 
seen. 
Then  meet  me  by  moonlight 
alone. 

If  au  Englist  love-song  can  be  so  easily  rendered  into  the 
plastic  language  of  France  by  one  to  whom  that  flexible  and 
harmonious  idiom  was  not  native  (though  hospitable),  what 
must  be  its  capabilities  in  the  hands  of  those  masters  of 
the  Grallic  lyre,  Victor  Hugo,  Lamartiue,  Chateaubriand, 
Delavigne,  and  Beranger  ?  To  their  efi"usions  I  shall  gladly 
dedicate  a  few  more  papers  ;  nor  can  I  imagine  any  literary 
pursuit  better  calculated  to  beguile,  iu  a  pleasant  and  pro- 
fitable fashion,  the  winter- evenings  that  are  approaching. 


THE    SONGS    or  I'EANCE.  231 


No.  VIII. 


THE  SON&S  OE  FEANCE, 

OS  WINE,  WAE,  WOMEN,  -WOODEN  SHOES,  PHILOSOPHY, 
EEOGS,  AND  EEEE  TEADE. 

Chaptee  II. — Women  and  "Wooden  Shoes. 

"  If  ell'  estate  all'  ombra,  nel  inverno  al  ftioeo, 
Pinger'  per  gloria,  e  poetar'  per  giuooo." 

Saliiaior  Rosa. 

Cool  shade  is  summer's  haunt,  fireside  November's; 
The  red  red  rose  then  yields  to  glowing  embers : 
Etchings  by  Dan  Maclise  then  place  before  us ! 
Drawings  of  Cork !  to  aid  Prout's  G-allic  chorus. 

O.  Y. 

In  this  gloomy  montli  our  brethren  of  the  "  broad  sheet," 
resigned  to  the  anticipated  casualties  of  the  season,  keep 
by  them,  in  stereotype,  announcements  which  never  fail  to 
be  put  in  requisition ;  viz.  "  Death  by  Drowning,"  "  Ex- 
traordinary Fog,"  "  Melancholy  Suicide,"  "  Pelo  de  se," 
with  doleful  headings  borrowed  from  Young's  "  Night 
Thoughts,"  Ovid's  "  Tristia,"  Hervey  on  Tombs,  and  Zim- 
merman on  Solitude.  There  is  much  punctuality  in  this 
recurrence  of  the  national  dismals.  Long  ago,  Gruy  Paux 
considerately  selected  the  fifth  of  November  for  despatch- 
ing the  stupid  and  unreformed  senators  of  Great  Britain  : 
so  cold  and  comfortless  a  month  being  the  most  acceptable, 
he  thought,  that  could  be  chosen  for  warming  their  ho- 
nourable house  with  a  few  seasonable  faggots  and  barrels 
of  gunpowder.  Philanthropic  citizen !  Neither  he  nor  Sir 
"William  Congreve,  of  rocket  celebrity — nor  Priar  Bacon, 
the  original  concocter  of  "villanous  saltpetre  " — nor  Parson 
Malthus,  the  patentee  of  the  "preventive  check" — nor 
Dean  Swift,  the  author  of  "  A  Modest  Proposal  for  turning 
into  Salt  Provisions  the  Offspring  of  the  Irish  Poor" — nor 
Brougham,  the  originator  of  the  new  reform  in  the  poor 


232  TATHEB  PEOTJT'S   EELIQTIES. 

laws — ^nor  Mr.  O'Connell,  the  Belisarius  of  tbe  poor-box, 
and  the  stanch  opponent  of  any  provision  for  his  half-starved 
tributaries — will  ever  meet  their  reward  in  this  world,  nor 
even  be  appreciated  or  understood  by  their  blind  and  un- 
grateful fellow-countrymen.  Happily,  however,  for  some 
of  the  above-mentioned  worthies,  there  is  a  warm  corner 
reserved,  if  not  in  "Westminster  Abbey,  most  certainly  in 
"  another  place ;"  where  alone  (Grod  forgive  us !),  we  in- 
cline to  think,  their  merits  can  be  suitably  acknowledged. 

Sorrowful,  indeed,  would  be  the  condition  of  mankind, 
if,  in  addition  to  other  sources  of  .sublunary  desolation  over 
which  we  have  no  control,  Eather  Prout  were,  like  the  sun, 
to  obnubilate  his  disk,  and  withdraw  the  light  of  his  coun- 
tenance from  a  disconsolate  world : 

"  Caput  obscur^  nitidum  ferragine  texit, 
Impiaque  setemam  timuerunt  siecula  noctem." 

Then,  indeed,  would  unmitigated  darkness  thicken  the  al- 
ready "  palpable"  obscure ;  dulness  place  another  pad-"  Lock 
on  the  human  understanding,"  and  knowledge  be  at  one 
grand  entrance  fairly  shut  out.  But  such  "  disastrous 
twilight "  shall  not  befall  our  planet,  as  long  as  there  is 
MS.  in  "  the  chest "  or  shot  in  the  locker.  Generations 
yet  unborn  shall  walk  in  the  blaze  of  Front's  wisdom,  and  the 
learned  of  our  own  day  shall  still  continue  to  light  the  pipe 
of  knowledge  at  the  focus  of  this  luminary.  So  essential 
do  we  deem  the  continuance  of  his  essays  to  the  happiness 
of  our  contemporaries,  that  were  we  (guorf  Deus  avertat !) 
to  put  a  stop  to  our  accustomed  issues  of  "  Prout  paper," 
forgeries  would  instantly  get  into  circulation ;  a  false  paper 
currency  would  be  attempted ;  there  would  arise  -^nxiha- 
Prouts :  but  they  would  deceive  no  one,  much  less  the  elect. 
Parina  of  Cologne  is  obliged  to  caution  the  public,  in  the 
envelope  of  his  long  bottles,  against  spurious  distillations 
of  his  wonderful  water :  "  Eowland,"  of  Hatton  Garden, 
finds  more  than  one  "  Oliver"  vending  a  counterfeit  "  Ma- 
cassar." We  give  notice,  that  no  "Prout  paper"  is  the 
real  thing  unless  vrith  label  signed  "  Olitee  Tokke." 
There  is  a  Bridgewater  Treatise  in  circulation,  said  to  be 
from  the  pei\  of  one  Doctor  Prout ;  'tis  a  sheer  hoax.  An 
artist  has  also  taken  up  the  name  ;  but  he  must  be  an  iin« 


THE    SONGS    OF   SEANCE.  233 

poster,  not  known  on  "Watergrasshill.  Owing  to  the  law 
of  celibacy,  "the  Father"  can  have  left  behind  him  no 
children,  or  posterity  whatever :  therefore,  none  but  himself 
can  hope  to  be  his  parallel.  We  are  perfectly  aware  that 
he  may  have  "  nephews,"  and  other  collateral  descendants ; 
for  we  admit  the  truth  of  that  celebrated  placard,  or  lam-i 
poon,  stuck  on  Pasquin's  statue  in  the  reign  of  Pope  Bor- 
ghese  (Paul  IV.)  : 

"  Ciim  factor  rerum  privaret  semine  elemm, 
In  Satanse  TOtum  suooessit  turba  nepotum ! " — i.  e, 
"  Of  bantlings  when  our  clergymen  were  freed  from  having  beviea, 
There  next  arose,  a  crowd  of  woes,  a  multitude  of  nevies  !"■ 

But  should  any  audacious  thief  attempt  to  palm  himself 
as  a  son  of  this  venerable  pastor,  let  him  look  sharp ;  for 
Terry  Oallaghan,  who  is  now  in  the  London  police  (through 
the  patronage  of  Feargus  O'Connor),  will  quickly  collar  the 
ruffian  in  the  most  inaccessible  garret  of  Grub  Street :  to 
profane  so  respectable  a  signature,  the  fellow  must  be  what 
Terry  calls  "  a  bad  mimber  intirely  ;"  what  we  English  call 
a  "jail-bird ;"  what  the  French  denominate  a  "  vrai  gibier 
de  grhve  ;"  termed  in  Latin,  "  corvus  patibularms ;"  and  by 
the  Greeks,  xaxou  xo^axog  -Aaxov  uov. 

We  have  to  acknowledge  the  receipt  of  a  communication, 
referring  to  our  "  Songs  of  France,"  from  the  pen  of  the  faceti- 
ous knight.  Sir  Charles  Wetherell.  Great  men's  peculiarities 
attract  no  small  share  of  public  attention  :  thus,  ex.  gr.  Na- 
poleon's method  of  plunging  his  fore-finger  and  thumb  into 
his  waistcoat  pocket,  in  Ueu  of  a  snuff-box,  was  the  subject 
of  much  European  commentary ;  and  one ,  of  the  twelve 
Caesars  was  nicknamed  Caligula  from  a  peculiar  sort  of  Wel- 
Hngton  boot  which  he  happened  to  fancy.  {Suet,  in  vitd.) 
Some  poet  has  not  scrupled  to  notice  a  feature  in  our  learned 
correspondent's  habiliment,  stating  him  to  be 

"  Much  famed  for  length  of  sound  sagacious  speeches, 
More  stiU  for  brevity  of  braceless  b s," 

— a  matter  not  quite  irrelevant  to  the  topic  on  which  Sir 
Charles  has  favoured  us  with  a  Hne. 

'  "  Aix-la-Chapelle,  Octoier'7. 

"  Deae  Toeke, 

"  I've  just  been  here  paying  my  devotions  to 
the  tomb  of  Chaxlemag-ne,  and  on  my  return  to  my  hotel  I 


234  TATHEE   PEOUT'S   EELIQTTES. 

find  your  last  number  on  my  table.  What  the  deuce  do 
you  mean  by  giving  a  new  and  unheard-of  version  of  the 
excellent  song  on  "  Le  bon  Eoy  Dagobert,"  who,  you  say, 
"  avait  mis  sa  culotte  5  Venvers  ;"  whereas  all  good  editions 
read"rfe  frauerj ;"  which  is  quite  a  different  sense,  lectic 
longh  emendatior ;  for  he  wore  the  garment,  not  inside  out, 
but  wrong  side  foremost.  Again,  it  was  not  of  Australesia  that 
he  was  king,  but  of  "  Grallia  braccata."  Pray  avoid  similar 
blunders.  "  Yours  in  haste, 

"  C.  W." 

"Wishing  him  a  pleasant  tour  through  the  Grermanic  con- 
federation, and  hoping  it  may  be  long  ere  he  reach  that  goal 
of  all  human  pilgrimage,  the  diet  of  Worms,  we  bow  to  the 
baiTonet's  opinion,  and  stand  corrected. 

OLIVEE,  TOEKE. 

Nov.  1st,  1834. 


WatergrassMU,  Nov.  1833. 

"  IiiLE  ego  qui  quondam,"  is  a  formula,  first  used  to  con- 
nect the  epic  cantos  of  the  JEneid  with  a  far  more  irre- 
proachable poem,  its  agricultural  predecessor.  Virgil  (like 
Lord  Althorp  when  he  thinks  posterity  will  forgive  his 
political  bluuders  in  consideration  of  his  breed  of  cattle) 
sought  to  bolster  up  the  imperfections  of  his  heroic  cha- 
racters by  a  reference  to  the  unexceptionable  Meliboeus, 
and  to  that  excellent  old  Calabrian  farmer  whose  bees 
hummed  so  tunefully  under  the  "  lofty  towers  of  (Ebalia." 
Now,  in  referring  to  a  previous  paper  on  the  "  Songs  of 
France,"  my  object  is  not  similar.  Unknown  to  my  con- 
temporaries, it  is  when  I  am  moulderiag  in  the  quiet  tomb 
where  my  rustic  parishioners  shall  have  laid  me,  that  these 
papers  will  start  into  lite,  and  bask  in  the  blaze  of  publi- 
city. Some  paternal  publisher — perchance  some  maternal 
magazine — will  perhaps  take  charge  of  the  deposit,  and 
hatch  my  eggs  with  successful  incubation.  But  let  there  be 
care  taken  to  keep  each  batch  separate,  and  each  brood  dis- 
tinct.   The  French  hen's  family  should  not  be  mixed  up  with 


THE    SONGS    or   rSANCB.  235 

the  chickens  of  the  Muscovy  duck ;  and  each  series  should 
be  categorically  arranged,  "  Series  jimcturaque  pellet" 
(Ilor.)  Pop  instance :  the  present  essay  ought  to  come 
after  one  bearing  the  date  of  "  October,"  and  containing 
songs  about  "  wine ;"  such  topic  being  appropriate  to  that 
mellow  month,  which,  from  time  immemorial  (no  doubt  be- 
cause it  rhymes  with  "  sober"),  has  been  set  apart  for  jolli- 
fication.    The  Germans  call  it  "  weinmonath." 

These  effusions  are  the  offspring  of  my  leisure  ;  nor  do  I 
see  any  cause  why  such,  hours  should  be  refused  to  the  pur- 
suits of  literature.  The  sonnets  of  Prancis  Petrarca  were 
not  deemed  a  bigh  misdemeanour  at  the  papal  court  of 
Avignon,  though  written  by  an  archdeacon.  Nor  was  Vida 
a  worse  bishop  in  his  diocese  of  Albi,  for  having  sung  the 
silk-worm  ("  Bombyces,"  Bile,  1537),  and  the  game  of  chess 
("  Schiaccia  Ludus,"  Eomae,  1527).  Yet  I  doubt  not  that 
there  may  be  found,  when  I  am  dead,  in  some  paltry  pro- 
vincial circle,  creatures  without  brains,  who  will  stigmatize 
my  writings,  as  unbefitting  the  cbaracter  of  an  aged  priest. 
Their  short-sightedness  I  deplore,  their  rancorous  malevo- 
lence I  contemplate  not  in  anger,  but  in  sorrow.  I  divest 
myself  of  all  community  of  feeling  with  such  people.  I 
cast  them  off !  When  a  snake  in  the  island  of  Malta  en- 
twined itself  round  the  arm  of  Paul,  with  intent  to  sting 
the  teacher  of  the  Grentiles,  he  gently  shook  the  viper  from 
his  wrist ;  and  was  not  to  blame  if  the  reptile  fell  into  the 
fire. 

To  return  to  the  interesting  subject  of  literary  researches. 
Pull  gladly  do  I  resume  the  pleasant  theme,  and  launch  my 
simple  skiff  on  the  wide  expanse  of  song — 

"  Once  more  upon  the  waters  ;  yea,  once  more  !" 

The  minstrelsy  of  Prance  is  happily  inexhaustible.  The 
admirers  of  what  is  delicate  in  thought,  or  polished  in  ex- 
pression, will  need  no  apology  for  drawing  their  attention 
to  these  exquisite  trifles :  and  the  student  of  general  litera- 
ture will  acknowledge  the  counecting-Unk  wliich  unites, 
though  unseen,  the  most  apparently  remote  and  seemingly 
dissimilar  departments  of  human  knowledge.  "  Omnes 
enim  artes,  quae  ad  humanitatem  pertinent,  habent  quoddam 
commune  vinculum,"  says  Cicero.    But  ia  the  present  case 


236  /ATHBE  PBOTJT'S   EEIIQTJES. 

the  link  is  one  of  positive  consanguinity.  To  wiat  class  of 
readers,  since  the  conquest  of  this  fair  island  and  its  unfor- 
tunate sister  by  the  chivalrous  Normans,  can  the  songs  of 
that  gallant  race  of  noble  marauders  and  glorious  pirates  be 
■without  thrilling  interest  ?  Not  to  relish  such  specimens  of 
spirit-stirring  poesy,  the  besotted  native  must  be  only  fit  to 
herd  among  swine,  with  the  collar  round  his  neck,  like  the 
Saion  serf  of  Cedric ;  or  else  be  a  superficial  idiot,  like 
"  "Wamba,  the  son  of  Wit-less  the  jester."  Selecting  one 
class  of  the  educated  public,  by  way  of  exemplification, 
where  all  are  concerned, — the  Bar, — the  language  of  Erance 
and  her  troubadours  cometh  in  the  character  of  a  profes- 
sional requirement.  By  submitting  to  their  perusal  thepe 
ballads,  I  shall,  mayhap,  reconcile  them  to  the  many  tedious 
hours  they  are  doomed  to  spend  in  conning  over  what  must 
otherwise  appear  the  semi-barbarous  terms  of  jurisprudence 
bequeathed  by  AVilliam  le  Eoux  with  the  very  structure  of 
his  HaU,  and  coeval  with  its  oak  roof  and  its  cobwebs.  In 
reference  to  the  Grallic  origin  of  our  law  and  its  idiom,  it 
was  Juvenal  who  wrote  {Sat.  XV.  v.  110) — 

"  Gallia  causidioos  docuit  facunda  Britannos  :" 

furnishing  an  incontestable  proof  that  poetry  akin  to  pro- 
phecy, with  "  eye  in  a  fine  frenzy  rolling,"  can  discover  the 
most  improbable  future  event  in  the  womb  of  time. 

A  knowledge  of  the  ancient  vocabulary  of  Prance  is  ad- 
mitted to  be  of  high  itoportance  in  the  perusal  of  our  early 
vmters  on  history,  as  well  as  on  legislation  :  in  poetry  and 
prose,  as  weU  as  in  Chancery  and  Doctors'  Commons.  An 
old  song  has  been  found  of  consequence  in  elucidating  a 
disputed  construction ;  and,  in  point  of  fact,  the  only  title- 
deed  the  Grenoese  can  put  forward  to  claim  the  invention  of 
the  mariners'  compass  is  the  lay  of  a  French  troubadour.* 
Few  are  aware  to  what  extent  the  volatile  literature  of  our 
merry  neighbours  has  pervaded  the  mass  of  British  author- 
ship, and  by  what  secret  iufluences  of  imitation  and  of  re- 
miniscence the  spirit  of  Norman  song  has  flitted  through  the 
conquered  island  of  Britain.   From  G-eoffrey  Chaucer  to  Tom 

*  A  ballad,  "  La  Bible,"  from  the  pen  of  Guyot  de  Provins,  dated 
A.D.  1190,  and  commencing,  "  Ue  nostre  p&re  I'apostoile."  It  is  a  pas- 
quinade against  the  court  of  Home. 


THE    SONGS    OP   rBANCB, 


237 


Moore  (a  vast  interval !),  there  is  not  one,  save  the  immortal 
Shakespeare  perhaps,  whose  writings  do  ^not  betray  the 
secret  working  of  this  foreign  essence,  mixed  up  with  the 
crude  material  of  Saxon  growth,  and  causing  a  sort  of  gentle 
fermentation.  Take  Oliver  Goldsmith,  whom  every  critic 
calls  an  eminently  English  vn'iter  of  undoubted  originality  ; 
now  place  in  juxtaposition  with  an  old  French  song  his 
"  Elegy  on  a  Mad  Dog,"  and  the  "  Panegyric  of  Mrs.  Mary 
Blaze,"  and  judge  for  yourself : 


(©oHJSmtt]&. 


i9c  la  iKorino^e. 


Good  people  all,  of  every  sort,  Messires,  tous  plaist-il  d'ouir, 

Give  ear  unto  my  song,  L'air  du  fameux  La  Palisse? 

And  if  you  find  it  wondrous  short,  H  pourra  vous  rejouir, 

It  cannot  hold  you  long.  Poiurru  qu'il  vous  divertisse. 


In  Islington  there  Uved  a  man, 
Of  whom  the  world  might  say, 

That  stUl  a  godly  race  he  ran 
Whene'er  he  went  to  pray. 

A  kind  and  gentle  heart  he  had. 
To  comfort  friends  and  foes ; 

The  naked  every  day  he  clad, 
When  he  put  on  his  clothes. 


n  etait  afiable  et  doux, 

De  I'humeur  de  feu  son  pferei 
II  n' etait  gu^re  en  courroux. 

Si  ce  n'est  dans  sa  colere. 

Bien  instruit  d^s  le  berceau, 
Onques,  tant  etait  honnete, 

n  ne  mettait  son  chapeau, 
Qu'U  ne  se  couvrit  la  tfete. 


The  final  catastrophe,  and  the  point  which  forms  the  sting 
of  the  whole  "Elegy,"  is  but  a  literal  version  of  a  long- 
established  G-allic  epigram,  viz. : 

Quand  un  serpent  mordit  Aurele,  But  soon  a  wonder  came  to  Hght, 
Que  orois-tu  qu'il  en  arriva  P  That  shewed  the  rogues  they  lied ; 

Qu' Aurele  mourut  P — bagafeUe  !  The  man  recovered  from  the  bite, 
Ce  fat  le  serpent  qui  creva.  The  dog  it  was  that  died. 

Then  as  to  Mrs.  Blaze ;  I  regret  to  say  that  her  virtues  and 
accomplishments  are  all  second-hand  ;  the  gaudy  finery  in 
which  her  poet  has  dressed  her  out  is  but  the  cast-off 
frippery  Erench.     Ex.  gr.  : 


The  public  all,  of  one  accord, 

Lament  for  Mrs.  Blaze ; 
Who  never  wanted  a  good  word 

From  those  who  spoke  her  praise. 


St  la  JKoniiogt. 

H  brillait  comme  un  soleil, 
Sa  chevelure  etait  blonde ; 

II  n'eut  pas  eu  de  pareil, 
S'il  eut  ^te  seul  au  monde. 


238  FATHEE  PEOUt's  EELIQUEa 

At  church,  in  silts  and  satins  new,  Monte  sur  un  oheval  noir, 

With  hoop  of  monstrous  size,  Les  dames  le  minaudfereut  • 

She  nerer  slumb3red  in  her  pew  Et  e'est  Ik  qu'il  ce  fit  voir, 

But  when  she  shut  her  eyes.  A  ceux  qui  le  regardfereut. 

Her  love  was  sought,  I  do  aver,  Dans  un  superbe  toumoi. 
By  twenty  beaux  and  more ;  Prest  k  foumir  sa  carrifere, 

The  king  himself  has  f(i>llowed  her  Quand  it  fut  devant  le  roi, 
When  she  has  walked  before.  Certes  il  ne  fut  pas  derrifere. 

Let  us  lament  in  sorrow  sore  ;  II  fut,  par  un  triste  sort, 

For  Kent  street  well  may  say,  Blesse  d'une  main  erueUe ; 

That,  had  she  hved  a  twelvemonth  On  croit,  puisqu'il  en  est  mort, 

more,  Que  la  playe  ^taite  morteUe. 
She  had  not  died  to-day.* 

It  is  not  without  a  certain  degree  of  concern  for  the  cha- 
racter of  Groldsmith,  that  I  have  brought  to  light  this  in- 
stance of  petty  larceny.  "Why  did  he  not  acquaint  us  with 
the  source  of  his  inspiration  ?  Why  smuggle  these  Prench 
wares,  when  he  might  have  imported  them  lawfully  by  pay- 
ing the  customary  duty  of  acknowledgment  ?  The  B,oman 
fabulist,  Phffidrus,  honestly  teUa  the  world  how  he  came  by 
his  wonderful  stock-in-trade : 

"  ^sopus  auctor  quam  materiam  reperit, 
Hanc  ego  polivi  versibus  senariis." 

Such  is  the  sign-board  he  hangs  out  in  the  prologue  to  his 
book,  and  no  one  can  complain  of  unfair  dealing.  But  to 
return  to  the  connexion  between  our  literature  and  that  of 
France. 

Pope  avowedly  modelled  his  style  and  expression  on  the 
■writings  of  Boileau ;  and  there  is  perceptible  in  his  didactic 
essays  a  most  admirable  imitation  of  the  lucid,  methodical, 
and  elaborate  construction  of  his  Gallic  origin.  -Dryden 
appears  to  have  reafl  with  predilection  the  works  of  Cor- 
neille  and  Malherbe :  like  them,  he  is  forcible,  brilliant,  but 
unequal,  turgid,  and  careless.  Addison,  it  is  apparent, 
was  intimately  conversant  with  the  tasteful  and  critical 
writings  of  the  Jesuit  Bouhours  ;  and  Sterne  is  but  a  rifa- 
cimento  of  the  Vicar  of  Meudon,  the  reckless   Eabelais. 

*  This  joke  is  as  old  as  the  days  of  St.  Jerome,  who  applies  it  to 
his  old  foe,  B.uiBau3.  "G-runnius  Corocotta,  poroeUus,  visit  annos 
vcccoxcix. :  qaibdi.  si  semis  vixisset,.  m.  annos  impl^sset." 


THE    SONGS   OE  TEANCE.  239 

"Who  will  question  the  influence  exercised  by  Molifere  over  our 
comic  writers — Sheridan,  Farquhar,  and  Congreve  ?  Indeed, 
our  theatre  seems  to  have  a  prescriptive  right  to  import 
its  comedies  from  Prance,  wholesale  and  duty  free.  At  the 
brilliant  and  dazzling  torch  of  La  Pontaine,  Gray  humbly  lit 
his  slender  taper  ;  and  Fielding  would  be  the  first  to  admit 
his  manifold  obligations  to  Le  Sage,  having  drank  deep  at 
the  fountain  of  "  GU  Bias."  Hume  the  historian  is  notori- 
ous for  his  G-allicisms  ;  and  perhaps  it  was  owing  to  his 
long  residence  abroad  that  the  pompous  period  of  Gribbon 
was  attuned  to  the  melody  of  Massillon.  If  I  do  not  men- 
tion Milton  among  our  writers  who  have  profited  by  the 
perusal  of  GralUcan  models,  it  is  because  the  Italian 
school  was  that  in  which  he  formed  his  taste  and  harmon- 
ised his  rhythmic  period. 

But,  to  trace  the  vestiges  of  French  phraseology  to  the 
very  remotest  paths  of  our  literary  domain,  let  us  examine 
the  chronicles  of  the  Plantagenets,  and  explore  the  writings 
of  the  incomparable  Proissart.  His  works  form  a  sort  of 
connecting  link  between  the  two  countries  during  the  wars 
of  Cressy  and  Agincourt :  he  was  alternately  a  page  at  the 
court  of  Blois,  a  minstrel  at  the  court  of  "Winceslas  in  Bra- 
bant, a  follower  of  the  French  King  Charles,  and  a  suivant 
of  Qiieen  Philippa  of  England.  Though  a  clergyman,  he 
was  decidedly  to  be  classified  under  the  genus  troubadour, 
partaking  more  of  that  character  than  of  any  ecclesiastical 
peculiarities.  For,  lest  I  should'  do  injustice  to  his  life  and 
opinions,  I  shall  let  him  draw  his  own  portrait : 

"  Au  boire  je  prends  grand  plaisir, 
Aussi  fais-je  en  beau  draps  vestir  : 
Oir  de  menestrel  parolles, 
Veoir  danses  et  carolles  ; 

Violettes  en  leur  saison, 
Et  roses  blanches  et  vermeiUes ; 

Voye  Tolontiers,  ear  o'est  raison, 
Jeux,  et  danses,  et  longues  veilles, 
Et  chambres  pleines  de  candeilles .'" 

Now  this  jolly  dog  Proissart  was  the  boon  comrade  of  our 
excellent  Geoffrey  Chaucer ;  and  no  doubt  the  two  worthy 
clercs  cracked  many  a  bottle  together,  if  not  in  Cheapside, 
at  least  on  this  side  of  the  Channel.     How  far  Geoffrey  was 


24i0  FATHEE  PEOn'S   EEIIQTJES. 

indebted  to  the  Prenchman  for  his  anecdotes  and  stories, 
for  his  droll  style  of  narrative,  and  the  pungent  salt  with 
which  he  has  seasoned  that  primitive  mess  of  porridge,  the 
"  Canterbury  Tales,"  it  would  be  curious  to  investigate. 
But  it  is  singular  to  find  the  most  distinguished  of  France, 
England,  and  Italy's  contemporary  authors  met  shortly 
after,  as  if  by  mutual  appointment,  in  Provence,  the  land  of 
song.  It  was  on  the  occasion  of  a  Duke  of  Clarence's  visit 
to  Milan  to  marry  the  daughter  of  Galeas  II. ;  a  ceremony 
graced  by  the  presence  of  the  Count  of  Savoy  and  the  King 
of  Cyprus,  besides  a  host  of  literary  celebrities.  Thither 
came  Chancer,  Froissart,  and  Petrarca,  by  one  of  those 
chance  dispositions  of  fortune  which  seem  the  result  of  a 
most  provident  foresight,  and  as  if  the  triple  genius  of' 
French,  English,  and  Italian  literature  had  presided  over 
their  reunion.  It  was  a  literary  congress,  of  which  the  con- 
sequences are  felt  to  the  present  day,  in  the  common  agree- 
ment of  international  feeling  in  the  grand  federal  republic 
of  letters.  Of  that  eventful  coUoquy  between  these  most 
worthy  representatives  of  the  three  leading  literatures  of 
Europe,  nothing  has  transpired  but  the  simple  fact  of  its 
occurrence.  Still,  one  thifig  is  certain,  viz.,  that  there  were 
then  very  few  features  of  difierence  in  even  the  languages, 
of  the  three  nations  which  have  branched  off,  since  that  pe- 
riod, in  such  wide  divergency  of  idiom  : 

"  When  shall  we  three  meet  again !" 

Chaucer  has  acknowledged  that  it  was  from  Petrarch  he 
learned,  on  that  occasion,  the  story  of  Q-riselda;  which 
story  Petrarch  had  picked  up  in  Provence,  as  I  shall  shew 
by  and  by,  on  producing  the  original  French  ballad.  But 
here  is  the  receipt  of  Chaucer,  duly  signed,  and  most  cir- 
cumstantial : 

"  I  wol  you  tel  a  tale,  tlie  which  that  I 
Lamed  at  Padowe,  of  a  worthy  olero, 
Ab  proved  by  his  wordea  and  his  werfc. 
He  is  now  dead,  and  nailed  in  his  chest, 
I  pray  to  G-od  to  geve  his  sowle  rest. 
Prauncis  Petrark,  the  laureat  poete, 
Hight  was  this  clerk,  whose  rhetoricke  so  swete 
Enlumined  all  Itaflle  of  poetrie." 

I'roloyue  to  Griselidh,  in  "  Cant.  Tales." 


THE    SONGS    OF   FEANCB.  241 

"We  learn,  from  William  of  Malmesbury  (lib.  iii.),  and 
from  various  contemporary  sources,  that  the  immediate  suc- 
cessors of  the  Conqueror  brought  over  from  Normandy 
numbers  of  learned  men,  to  fill  the  ecclesiastical  and  other 
beneficial  employments  of  the  country,  to  the  exclusion  of 
the  native  English,  who  were  considered  dunces  and  unfit 
for  office.  Ajij  one  who  had  the  least  pretension  to  be 
considered  a  s^avant  elerc,  spoke  French.  In  the  reign  of 
Henry  III.  we  have  Eobert  Grrossetite,  the  well- known 
bishop  of  Lincoln  (who  was  born  in  Suffolk),  writing  a 
work  in  French  called  "  Le  Chasteau  d' Amour ;"  and  ano- 
ther, "  Le  Manuel  des  P^ch^es."  Of  this  practice  Chaucer 
complains,  somewhat  quaintly,  in  his  "  Testament  of  Love" 
(ed.  1542)  :  "  Certes  there  ben  some  that  speke  thyr  poysy 
mater  in  Ffrench,  of  whyche  speche  the  Pfrenchmen  have 
as  gude  a  fantasye  as  we  have  in  hearing  of  Ffrench  mennes 
Englyshe."  Tanner,  in  his  "  Biblioth.  Brit.,"  hath  left  us 
many  curious  testimonies  of  the  feeling  which  then  pre- 
vailed on  this  subject  among  the  jealous  natives  of  England. 
See  also  the  Harleian  MS.  3869. 

But  the  language  of  the  troubadours  stiU  remained  com- 
mon to  both  countries,  when,  for  all  the  purposes  of  do- 
mestic and  public  Kfe,  a  new  idiom  had  sprung  up  in  eaeh 
separate  kingdom.  Extraordinary  men!  These  songsters 
were  the  favourites  of  every  court,  and  the  patronised  of 
every  power.  True,  their  Ufe  was  generally  dissolute,  and 
their  conduct  unscrupulous  ;  but  the  mantle  of  poetic  in- 
spiration seems  to  have  covered  a  multitude  of  sins.  I 
cannot  better  characterise  the  men,  and  the  times  in  which 
they  lived,  than  by  introducing  a  ballad  of  B^ranger — the 
"Dauphin:" 

Ha  i^ai^SHTice  Su  |Baup]^m. 

Du  bon  vieux  terns  eomScez  que  je  vous  parle. 

Jadis  Eiohard,  troubadour  renomme, 
Avait  pour  Eoy  Jean,  Louis,  Philippe,  ou  Charle, 

Ne  s^ais  lequel,  mais  il  en  fut  aime. 
D'rtn  gros  dauphin  on  fStait  la  naissanoe ; 

Eiehard  k  Blois  etait  depuis  un  jour : 
n  ap^rit  ]k  le  bonheur  de  la  France. 

Pour  votre  rol  ehantez,  gai  troubadour  ! 
Chantez,  ehantez,  jeune  et  gai  troubadour  ! 

B 


242  FATHEB  PEOTTT'S   BBiKjrES. 

La  harpe  en  main  Bichard  vient  sur  la  place  i 

Chacun  lui  dit,  "  Chantez  notre  garQon!" 
Devotement  k  la  Vierge  il  rend  grace, 

Puis  au  dauphin  consacre  une  chanson. 
On  I'applaudit ;  I'auteur  ^tait  en  veine : 
Mainte  beaute  le  trouve  fait  au  tour, 
Disant  tout  has,  "  II  doit  plaire  a  la  reine  /" 

Pour  Totre  roi  chantez,  gai  troubadour ! 
Chantee,  chantez,  jeune  et  gai  troubadour 

Le  chant  fini,  Richard  court  a  I'eglise ; 

Qu'y  Ta-t-il  faire  ?     II  cherche  un  oonfesseur. 
II  en  trouTe  un,  gros  moine  h.  barbe  grise, 
Des  moeurs  du  terns  inflexible  censeur. 
"Ah,  sauvez  moi  des  flammes  ^temeUes  ! 

Mou  p&re  helas !  c'est  un  vilain  sejour.'' 
"  fi§u'ntit?=^l)Oua  fait  ?"  "  J'ai  trop  aime  les  belles !" 
Pour  TOtre  roi  chantez,  gai  troubadour ! 
Chantez,  chantez,  jeune  et  gai  troubadour! 

"le  grand  malheur,  mon  pfere,  c'est  qu'ou  m'aime !" 

"  <pavU5,  mon  Bis ;  txplique^^boua  tnSn." 
"J'ai  fait,  helas  !  narguant  le  diadfeme, 

Un  gros  peche  !  car  j'ai  fait — un  dauphin ! !" 
D'abord  le  moine  a  la  mine  ^bahie ; 

Mais  U  reprend,  "  irDuB=£teB  fiieit  en  tour  ? — 
^outi)OB£(=nous  B'une  ritlje  abfaasE." 

Pour  TOtre  roi  chantez,  gai  troubadour ! 
Chantez,  chantez,  j^une  et  gai  troubadour! 

Lfi  moine  ajoute ;  "  Eut-on  fait  a  la  reine 
Un  prince  ou  deux,  on  peut  etre  sauT^. 
Parlez  de  nous  a  notre  souveraine :   ■ 

Allez,  mon  fils !  tous  direz  cinq  Ave." 
Bichard  absous,  gagnant  la  capitale, 

Au  nouTeau-ne  voit  prodiguer  I'amour  5 
Vive  ^jamais  notre  race  royale ! 

Pour  TOtre  roi  chantez,  gai  troubadour ! 
Chantez,  chantez,  jeune  et  gai  troubadour! 


Ci^e  i0aupl)in'a  JStrtpaw. 

Let  me  sing  you  a  song  of  the  good  old  timee. 

About  Richard  the  troubadour. 
Who  was  loved  by  the  king  and  the  queen  for  his  rhymes } 

Sut  by  which  of  our  kings  I'm  not  sure. 


THE    SONGS   OF  FEANCE.  243 

Now  a  dauphin  was  bom  while  the  court  was  at  Blois, 
And  all  Prance  felt  a  gladness  pure  ; 

Kichard's  heart  leapt  for  joy  when  he  heard  'twas  a  hoy. 
Sing  for  your  ting,  young  and  gay  troubadour  1 
Sing  well  you  may,  troubadour  young  and  gay ! 

So  he  went  with  his  harp,  on  his  proud  shoulder  hung, 

To  the  court,  the  resort  of  the  gay ; 
To  the  Virgin  a  hymn  of  thanksgiving  he  sung. 

For  the  dauphin  a  new  "  rondelay." 
And  our  nobles  tlocked  round  at  the  heart-stirring  sound, 

And  their  dames,  dignified  and  demure. 
Praised  his  bold,  gallant  mien,  and  said  "  He'll  please  the  qtteen!" 
Sing  for  your  king,  young  and  gay  troubadour ! 
Oh,  sing  well  you  may,  troubadour  young  and  gay ! 

But  the  song  is  now  hushed,  and  the  crowd  is  dispersed : 

To  the  abbey,  lo  !  Eichard  repairs. 
And  he  seeks  an  old  monk,  in  the  legend  well  yersed. 

With  a  long  flowing  beard  and  ^ey  hairs. 
And  "  Oh,  save  me !"  he  cries,  "  holy  father,  from  hell ; 

'Tis  a  place  which  the  soul  qau't  endure '." 
"  ffif  gDUt  shrift  ttll  tijie  Bxift ;"  "  J'ai  trap aimeles  belles!" 
Sing  for  your  king,  young  and  gay  troubadour  J 
Sing  well  you  may,  troubadour,  young  and  gay  ! 

"  But  the  worst  is  untold !"  "  1|aste,  me  Bonne,  ant)  it  aT)r(6cn  ; 
ffleli  50«r  guilt— its  results— ^otti  pott  sinneK,  anB  i)Oto  often." 
"  Oh,  my  guUt  it  is  great ! — can  my  sin  be  forgiven — 

Its  result,  holy  monk !  is— alas,  'tis  a  DAtrPHnf !" 
And  the  fri^r  grew  pale  at  so  startling  a  tale, 

But  he  whispered,  "  jpor  tiS,  Sonne,  procure 
(Sfje  totU  Btant  It,  I  tncen)  afibcg  lanH  from  ti)e  queen." 
Sing  for  your  king,  young  and  gay  troubadour ! 
Sing  well  you  may,  troubadour  young  and  gay  I 
Then  the  monk  said  a  prayer,  and  the  sin,  light  as  air, 

Flew  away  from  the  penitent's  soul ; 
And  to  Paris  went  Richard  to  sing  for  the  fair, 

"  Virelai,"  sonnet  gay,  and  "  oarolle  :" 
And  he  mingled  with  joy  in  the  festival  there. 

Oh !  while  beauty  and  song  can  aEure, 
May  our  old  royal  race  never  want  for  an  heir! 

Sing  for  your  king,  young  and  gay  troubadour ! 
Sing  well  you  may,  troubadour  young  and  gay ! 

It  does  not  enter  into  my  plan  to  expatiate  on  the 
moral  conclusion  or  political  im/iuSiov  which  this  ballad 
suggests,  and  which  with  sarcastic  ingenuity  is  so  adroitly 
insinuated.    It  is,  in  fact,  a  lyrical  epigram  on  the  admirers 


244  TATHEE  FEOTJT'S   EELIQTJEB. 

of  hereditary  legislation.  To  the  venerable  owls  who  roost 
in  Heralds'  College,  this  is  startling  matter :  in  sooth,  it 
sheds  a  quiet  ray  on  the  awful  sublimities  of  genealogical 
investigation.  It  may  serve  as  a  commentary  on  the  well- 
known  passage  of  Boileau  (pilfered  unceremoniously  by 
Pope),  in  which  the  current  of  princely  blood  is  said  to  flow 
"  de  Lucr^ce  en  Lucrfece ;"  but  we  do  not  expect  an  edition 
of  the  song  to  be  published  "in  usum  Delphini."  Five 
Henri  Cinq  !  concerning  whose  birth  the  song  was  written. 

On  all  matters  in  which  the  characters  of  the  ladies  may 
be  involved,  I  recommend  constant  caution  and  the  most 
ecrupulous  forbearance  to  both  poets  and  historians.  The 
model  of  this  delicate  attention  may  be  found  among  the 
troubadours.  I  more  particularly  allude  to  the  Norman 
school  of  French  poesie  ;  for  I  regret  to  state,  that  in  Pro- 
vence there  was  not  always  the  same  veneration  and  myste- 
rious homage  paid  to  the  gentler  sex,  whose  very  frailties 
should  be  shrouded  by  the  poet,  and  concealed  from  the 
vulgar  gaze  of  the  profane.  In  Normandy  and  the  adjacent 
provinces,  the  spirit  of  chivalry  was  truly  such  as  described 
by  our  hot-headed  Irish  orator,  when,  speaking  of  Marie 
Antoinette,  he  fancies  ten  thousand  swords  ready  to  leap 
from  their  scabbards  at  the  very  suspicion  of  an  insult. 
The  instinctive  worship  of  beauty  seems  to  have  accompap 
nied  that  gallant  race  of  noble  adventurers  from  their  Scan- 
dinavian settlements  beyond  the  Elbe  and  the  Ehine ;  for 
we  find  the  sentiment  attributed  to  their  ancestors  by  Taci- 
tus, in  his  admirable  work  "De  Moribus  G-ermanorum," 
where  he  writes,  as  well  as  I  can  recollect,  as  follows :  "  Inesse 
quinetiam  fceminis  sanctum  aUquid  et  providum  putant." 
The  ballad  of  "  Griselidis,"  to  which  I  have  made  allusion  in 
talking  of  the  "  Canterbury  Tales,"  and  which  I  then  pro- 
mised to  give  in  its  original  old  Norman  simplicity,  finely 
illustrates  aU.  that  is  noble  and  chivalrous  in  their  respect 
for  female  loveliness  and  purity.  My  version  runs  in  the 
old  ballad  idiom,  aa  nearly  as  that  quaint  style  can  be 
revlTed. 


THE    SONGS   OP   rEAKCE. 


245 


Romance. 

Eseoutez  icy  jouyencelles, 

Ecoutez  aussy  damoiseauz, 
Vault  mieux  estre  bone  que  belle, 

Vault  mieux  estre   loyal  que 
beau! 
Beaute  passe,  passe  jeunesse, 

Btote  reste  et  gagne  les  coeurs; 
Aveo  doulceur  et  gentiUesse 

Espiues  se  cbangeut  en  fleurs. 


Belle,  mais  pauvre  et  souffreteuse, 

Vivoit  jadis  Griseledis ; 
Alloit  aux  champs,  estoit  glaneuse, 

Piloit  beau  lin,  gardoit  brebis  j 
N'estoit  fyUe  de  hault,  parage, 

H'aToit  comt^  ny  joyaux  d'or, 
Mais  ayoit  plus,  car  estait  sage — 

Mieulx  vault  sagesse  que  tresor! 


TJng  jour  qu'aux  champs  estoit 
seulette, 

Vinst  k  passer  Sire  Gaultier, 
Las !  sans  chien  estoit  la  paurrette, 

Sans  page  estoit  le  chevalier  j 
Mais  en  ce  siecle,  oh  I'innocence 

N'avoit  k  craindreaucun  danger, 
Vertu  veilloit,  dormoit  prudence, 

Beaulx  tems  n'auriez  pas  du 
changer ! 

Taiit  que  sommeille  la  bergfere, 

Beau  sireeust  le  tems  d' admirer, 
Mais  dJs  qu'entr'ouvrist  la  pau- 
pi&re, 

Fust  force  de  s'en  amourer ; 
"  Belle,"  dit-il,  "  serez  ma  mie. 

Si  voulez  venir  k  ma  cour  ?" 
"ITenny,  seigneur,  vous  remercie, 

Honneur  vault  bien  playsir 
d'amour  ?" 


&xiitlaa. 

A  Romaunt. 

List  to  my  baUad,  for  'twaa  made  ei- 
presse. 
Damsels,  for  you ; 
Better  to  be  (beyond  all  lovelinesse) 

LoyaU  and  true ! 
Padeth  fair  face,  bright  beauty  blooms 
awhile, 
Soon  to  departe ; 
Goodness  abydeth  aye ;  and  gentle 
smyle 
Gtiineth  y"  heaite. 

There  lived  a  maiden,  beautifuU  but 
poore, 
GHeaning  y"  fields ; 
Foorpittaunceshepherd'scrookupon 
y'  moor. 
Or  distaff  yields ! 
Tet  tho'  no  castel  hers  had  ever  been, 

Jewells  nor  golde, 
Kindnesse  she  hadde  and  virtue; 
thyngs,  I  ween. 
Better  fowr  folde ! 

One  day  a  cavalier.  Sir  Walter  hight, 

Travelled  that  way  j 
Nor  dogge  j'  shepherdesse,  nor  page 
j'  knight 
Hadde  on  that  day. 
But  in  those  times  of  innocence  and 
truth, 
Virtue  alone 
Kept  vigil  in  our  land ;  bright  days, 
in  sooth. 
Where  are  ye  gone  ? 

Long  on  y"  maiden,  as  she  slept,  ha 


Could  gaze  for  months ! 
But  when  awapng,  two  soft  eyelids 
raised. 
Loved  her  at  once ! 
"  Fair  one,  a  knight's  true  love  canst; 
thou  despise, 
With  golden  store  ?" 
"  Sir  Knight,  true  love  I  VEilae,  but 
I  prize 
Honour  far  more !" 


246 


PATHEE   PEOTTT'S   EELIQrES. 


"  Vertu,  dit-i],  paase  noblesse ! 

Serez  ma  femme  d6s  ce  jour — 
Serez  dame,  serez  comtesse, 

Si  me  jurez,  au  nom  d'amour, 
De  m'obeir  quand  deyrai,  meme 

Bien  durement,    vous    ordon- 
ner  ?" 
"  Sire,  obeir  h,  ce  qu'on  aime 

Est  bieu  plus  doux  que  com- 
mander ?" 


Ne  jura  pour  estre  comtesse, 

Mais  avoit  vu  le  cheTalier ; 
A  I'amour  seul  fist  la  promesse : 

Puis  monta  sur  son  destrier. 
N'avoit  besoiu  de  bienseances 

Le  terns   heureux  des  bonnes 
mceurs  ; 
Fausses  6toient  les  apparances, 

Nobles  et  yrays  estoient  les 
cceurs! 


"  I  too  prize  honour  above,  high  de- 
scent 
And  all  beside ; 
Maiden,  be  mine !  yea,  if  thou  wilt 
consent, 
■  Be  thou  my  bride ! 
Swear  but  to  do  y'  bidding  of  thy 
liege 
Faithful  and  fond." 
"  TeU  not  of  oaths,  Sir  Euight  5  is 
not  love's  pledge 
A  better  bond  ?" 

Not  for  his  castel  and  his  broad  do- 


Spoke  so  ye  maid, 
But  that  she    loved  y'  handsome 
tnight — Love  fain 
Would  be  obeyed. 
On  y'  same  charger  with  the  knight 
she  rodde. 
So  passed  along ; 
Nor  blame  feared  she,  for  then  all 
hearts  were  good ; 
None  dreamed  of  wrong. 

And  they  rodde  on  untiU  rose  on  y' 
sight 
His  castel  towers ; 
And  there  that  maiden  lived  with 
that  good  knight 
In  marriage  bowers, 
Diffusing  blessings  among  all  who 
dwelt 
Within  that  vale : 
Q-oodnesB  abydeth  aye — her  smile  is 
felt," 
Tho'  beauty  fail! 

Lives  there  one  witb  soul  so  dead  as  not  to  admire  the 
genuine  high-miadedness  of  these  primitive  times,  expressed 
in  this  pleasing  record  of  what  was  no  romance,  but  matter 
of  frequent  occurrence  in  the  days  of  chivalry  ?  The  ballad 
has  got  into  many  languages,  and  is  interwoven  vfith  the 
traditional  recollections  of  many  a  noble  house ;  but  the 
original  is  undoubtedly  the  above.  Moore  has  twisted  it 
into  a  melody,  "  Tou  remember  Ellen,  our  hamlet's  pride ;" 
and  he  seeks  to  connect  the  story  with  "  an  interestiiig  tale 


Taut  chevauch^rent  par  la  plaiue 

Qu'arrivferent  k  la  cite  ; 
(Jriseledis  fust  souveraine 

De  ce  riche  et  puissant  comt4  ; 
Chascun  I'aima ;  sous  son  empire 

Chasoun  ressentit  ses  bienfaits  : 
Beauts  pr^vient,  doulceur  attire 

Bout^  gtigue  et  fixe  k  jamais ! 


THE    SONGS    OF   FEAJTCE.  247 

told  df  a  certain  noble  family  in  England."*  Unfortunately 
for  such  attempts,  the  lays  of  the  Norman  troubadours,  like 
the  Grovernment  ropes  in  the  dock-yard  at  Portsmouth,  have 
in  their  texture  a  certain  twist  by  which  they  are  recognised 
when  they  get  into  the  possession  of  thieves. 

These  Normans  were  a  glorious  race !  No,  neither  the 
sons  of  Greece  in  their  palmiest  days  of  warlike  adventure 
(oj^Xos  Ayaioiv),  nor  the  children  of  the  Tiber,  that  miscel- 
lany of  bandits  and  outlaws  {tyrha  Remi),  ever  displayed 
such  daring  energy  as  the  tribe  of  enterprisiag  Northerns 
who,  in  the  seventh,  eighth,  and  subsequent  centuries,  af- 
frighted and  dazzled  the  world  with  the  splendour  of  their 
achievements.  Prom  the  peninsula  of  Jutland,  their  narrow 
home  on  the  Baltic,  they  went  forth  to  select  the  choicest 
and  the  fairest  provinces  of  the  south  for  their  portion :  the 
banks  of  the  Seine,t  the  kingdom  of  Naples,  the  island  of 
Sicily,  the  Morea,  Palestine,  Constantinople,  England,  Ire- 
land,— they  conquered  iu  succession.  The  proudest  names 
in  each  land  through  which  they  passed  glory  in  tracing  up 
a  Norman  origin ;  and  while  their  descendants  form  the 
truest  and  most  honourable  aristocracy  in  Europe,  their 
troubadours  still  reign  paramount,  and  unsurpassed  in  every 
mode  and  form  of  the  tuneful  mystery.  Their  architectural 
remains  are  not  more  picturesque  and  beautiful  than  the 
fragments  of  their  ballads  and  their  war-songs  ;  and  Be- 
ranger  himself  (by-the-by,  a  Norman  patronymic,  and  an 
evidence  of  the  poet's  excellent  lineage)  has  but  inherited 
the  lyre  of  that  celebrated  minstrel  who  is  described  in  a 
contemporary  poem  on  the  conquest  of  this  island : 

Taillefer  ki  mult  bien  cantout,     Dan  Tallyfer,  who  sang  right  well, 
Sur  img  cheval  ki  tost  allout,       Borne  on  a  goodly  haridelle, 

*  Meaning,  of  course,  the  marriage  of  Henry,  Earl  of  Exeter,  to 
Sarah  Hoggins,  of  the  village  of  Hodnet,  in  Shropshire,  Oct.  3,  1791. 
Queer  materials  for  an  Irish  melody. 

t  Such  was  the  terror  with  which  they  inspired  the  natives  of  Fiance 
before  Duke  EoUo'b  conversion  to  Christianity,  that  there  is  in  the 
office  of  the  Parisian  Breviary  a  hymn,  composed  about  that  period, 
and  containing  a  prayer  against  the  Normans — 

"  Auferte  gentem  perfidam 
Credentium  de  finibus,"  &c.  &c. ; 

which  remains  to  this  day  a  memorial  of  consternation. 


248 


FATHEE  PEOVT  8   EELIQTJES. 


Devant  le  host  allout  cantant 
De  £arleiiiain  e  de  BoUaut, 


Pranced  in  the  ran  and  led  the  tiraiTi, 
With  songs  of  Koland  and  Charle- 
maine. 


But  I  venture  to  say,  that  never  was  Charlemagne  sung  by 
his  ablest  troubadour  in  loftier  strains  than  those  in  which 
B&anger  has  chanted  the  great  modern  inheritor  of  his 
iron  crown,  anointed  like  him  by  a  Pope,  and  like  him  the 
sole  arbitrator  of  European  kingdoms  and  destinies. 


%t6  Sioubentre  Du  ^cuple. 

Beranger. 

On  parlera  de  sa  gloire 
Sous    le    ohaume   bien  long- 
temps  ; 
L'humble  toit,  dans  cinqnante 
ans, 
Neconnattra  plus  d' autre  histoire. 
L&.  viendront  les  villageois 
Dire  alors  k  quelque  vieille ; 
Par  des  r^cits  d'autrefois, 
Mere,  abr^gez  notre  veille : 
Bien,  dit-on,  qu'il  nous  ait  nui, 
Le  peuple  encor  le  revere, 

Oui,  le  revfere. 
Parlez-nous  delui,grand'mfere! 
Parlez-nous  de  lui ! 


33npular  3RtroItetttoit3  of 
)Suonaparte. 

They'll  talk  of  him  for  years  to  come, 

In  cottage  chronicle  and  tale ; 
When  for  aught  else  renown  is  dumb, 

His  legend  shall  prevail ! 
Then  in  the  hamlet's  honoured  chair 

Shall  sit  some  aged  dame, 
Teaching  to  lowly  clown  and  villager 

That  narrative  of  fame. 
'Tis   true,  they'll   say,  his   gorgeous 
throne 
Prance  bled  to  raise ; 
But  he  was  all  our  own  ! 
Mother !  say  something  in  his  prads^— 
O  speak  of  him  always  ! 


"  Mes  enfans,  dans  ce  village, 
Suivi  de  rois,  U  passa, 
VoUa  bien  long- temps  de  qa, : 
Je  venais  d'entrer  en  manage. 
A  pied  grimpant  le  cdteau. 
Oil  pour  voir  je  m'^tais  mise ; 
II  avait  petit  chapeau, 
Avec  redingote  grise. 
Pr^s  de  lui  je  me  troublai, 
II  me  dit,  '  Bonjour,  ma  chere ! 

Bonjour,  ma  chdre!'" 
H  V0U8  a  parl4  grand'm^re ! 

II  vouB  a  parl^ ! 


"  I  saw  him  pass  :  his  was  a  host : 
Cotmtless  beyond  your  young  ima- 
ginings— 
My  children,  he  could  boast 

A  train  of  conquered  kings  ! 
And  when  he  came  this  road, 

'Twas  on  my  bridal  day. 
He  wore,  for  near  to  him  I  stood. 

Cocked  hat  and  surcoat  grey. 
I  blushed ;  he  said, '  Be  of  good  cheer ! 
Courage,  my  dear !' 
That  was  his  very  word."^ 
Mother !  0  then  this  really  occurredi 
And  yo  I  his  voice  could  hear  I 


THE   SONGS   or   rBATTCE. 


2d,9 


"L'an    d'apr^s,    moi   pauyre 
femme, 
A  Paria  Aant  un  jour, 
Je  le  Tis  aveo  sa  oour ; 
II  ae  rendait  a  Notre-Dame. 
Toua  les  coeure  etaient  contena ; 
On  admirait  son  cortege, 
Chaouu  disait,   'Quel  beau 

tema  ! 
le  Ciel  toujoura  le  protege.' 
Son  sourire  etait  bien  doux, 
D'un  fils  Dieu  le  rendait  p6re, 

Le  rendait  pfere  !" — 
Quel    beau   jour  pour  vous, 
grand'mere  1 
Quel  beau  jour  pour  tous  1 


"  Mais  quand  la  pauvre  Cham- 
pagne 
Put  en  proie  aux  etrangera, 
Lui,  bravant  toua  les  dangera, 
Semblait  aeul  tenir  la  campagne, 
Un  aoir,  tout  conune  aujourd- 

•hui, 
J'entends  frapper  a  la  porte ; 
J'ouvre,  bon    Dieu!    o'etait 

itri! 
Suivi  d'nne  faible  eaeorte. 
II  s'aaseoit  oii  me  voila, 
S'ecriant :  '  Oh,  quelle  guerre  ! 

Oh,  quelle  guerre !' " — 
II  s'est  asais  la,  grand'mere ! 
II  s'eat  aasis  la ! 


"  *  J'ai  faim,'  dit-il ;  et  bien  vite 
Je  aers  piquette  et  pain  bia. 
Puia  il  aeche  ees  habits  ; 

Heme  a  dormir  le  feu  I'invite. 
Au  r^veU,  yoyant  mea  pleura, 
H  me  dit :  "  Bonne  eap&ance ! 
Je  cours  de  toua  aes  malheura 
Sous  Paris  venger  la  France  1 


"A  year  roUed   on,  when  next  at 
Paria  I, 

Lone  woman  that  I  am, 

Saw  him  pasa  by, 

CHrt  with  his  peers,  to  kneel  at  IKTotre 

Dame. 
I  knew  by  merry  chime  and  signal  gun, 
God  granted  him  a  son, 
And  O  !  I  wept  for  joy  ! 
iFor  why  not  weep  when  warrior-men 

did. 
Who  gazed  upon  that  sight  so  splen- 
did. 
And  blest  th'  imperial  boy  ? 
Never  did  noonday  sun  shme  out  so 
bright ! 

O  what  a  sight !" — 
Mother  !  for  you  that  must  haye  been 
A  glorious  scene ! 

"But  when  all    Europe's  gathered 

strength 
Burst'  o'er    the  IFrench  frontier  at 
length, 
'Twill  scarcely  be  believed 
What    wonders,    single-handed,    he 
achieved. 
Such  general  ne'er  lived ! 
One  evening  on  my  threshold  stood 
A  guest — 'twas  he  !     Of  warriors 

few 
He  had  a  toil-worn  retinue. 
He  flimg  himself  into  this  chair  of 
wood. 
Muttering,  meantime,  with  fearAil 

air, 
'Quelle guerre!  oh,  quelle  guerre  f"— 
Mother!  and  did  our  emperor  sit  there^ 
Upon  that  very  chair  ? 

"  He  aaid,  '  Give  me  some  food.' — 
Brown  loaf  I  gave,  and  homely  wine. 
And  made  the  kindling  fireblocks 
shine. 
To  dry  his  cloak  with  wet  bedewed. 
Soon  by  the  bonny  blaze  he  slept, 
Then  waking  chid  me  (for  I  wept)/; 
'  Courage !'  he  cried, '  I'll  strike  for  all 
Under  the  aaored  wall 
Of  France'a  noble  capital !' 


250 


FATHEB  PEOri'S   EELIQTTES. 


H  part ;  et  comme  vm  tresor 
J'ai  depuis  gard^  son  rerre, 

Garde  son  verre." — 
Vous   I'avez   enoor,   grand' 
mfere ! 

Vous  I'avez  encor ! 


"  Le  voiei.    Mais  si  sa  perte 
Le  heros  fut  entratue. 
Inii,  qu'VTS  Pape  a  couronne, 
Est  mort  dans  un  He  deserte. 
Long-temps  aucun  ne  I'a  cru ; 
On  disait : .  H  Ta  paraitre. 
Par  mer  il  est  acoouru ; 
L'toanger'va  voir  son  maltre. 
Quandld'erreur  on  nous  tira, 
Ma  douleur  fut  bien  amere. 

Fut  bien  amere.'', — 
Dieu  Tous  bfeira,  grand'mere ; 

Dieu  TOUS  b^nira ! 


Those  were  his  words :  IVe  treasured 
up 
With  pride  that  same  wme-cup ; 
And  for  its  weight  in  gold 
It  never  shall  be  sold  !" — 
Mother !  on  that  proud  reUo  let  us 
gaze. 
O  keep  that  cup  always  I 

"  But,  through  some  fatal  witchery, 
He,  whom  A  Pope  had  crowned  and 
blest, 
Perished,  my  sons  !  by  foulest  treach- 
ery: 
Cast  on  an  isle  far  in  the  lonely 
•  West.     , 
Long  time  sad  rumours  were  afloat — 

The  fSital  tidings  we  would  spurn, 
StiU  hoping  from  that  isle  i;emote 

Once  more  our  hero  wolild  return. 

But  when  the    dirt-  announcement 

drew 

Tears  from  the  virtuous  and  the 

brave —  '   . 

When  the  sad  Trffisperprovedtoo  true, 

■   -  A  flood  of  grief  I  to  his  memory 

gave.-    .  . 
Peace  to  the  glorious  dead !" — 
Mother !  may  God  his  ftQlest  blessing 
shed 
Upon  your  aged  head ! 

Such  songs  embalm  tlie  glories  of  a  cbaquei^or  in.  tj^fe  liearts 
of  the  people,  and  will  do,  more  to  endjear.  the  .memory  of 
Napoleon  to  posterity  than  all  the  eiForts  of  the-  historian. 
The  government  of  the  imbecile  Charles  X.  had  the  foUy  to 
pick  a  personal  quarrel  with  tljis  powerful  master  of  the  lyre, 
and  to  provoke  the  -wrath  of  genius,  which  no  one  yet  aroused 
and  got  off  unscathed  by  its  lightning.  B^ranger  was  prose- 
cuted before  the  eour  d'assizes  for  a  song !  And  nothing, 
perhaps,  contributed  more  to  the  catastrophe  that  soon  over- 
took the  persecutor  of  the  Muses  than  the  disgrace  and  ridi- 
cule which  covered  the  royal  faction,  in  consequence  of  this 
attack  on  the  freedom  of  that  freest  of  aU  trades,  the  craft 
of  the  troubadour.  The  prophecy  contained  in  the  ode  was 
realised  to  the  letter :   even  the  aUusion  to  that  old  GaUie 


"J'ai    gard-e    son.   ver 


THE    SONGS   OE  rEANOE. 


251 


emWem  the  cock,  wHch  Louis  Philippe  made  the  ornament  ol 
the  restored  tricolor,  confirms  the  fact  of  inspiration. 


lit  hit\x^  iBrapeau. 


Ci)«  Clirtt^Colouwll  jFlag. 


Beranger. 


{A  proseculed  Song.) 


De  mes  vievii  oompaguons   de 
gloire 
Je  viens  de  me  voir  entour^  ; 
Nos  Bouvenirs  m'out  eniTre, 
Le  via  m'a  rendu  la  m^moire. 
Fier  de  mes  exploits  et  des 
leurs, 
J'ai  mon  drapeau  dans  ma  chau- 

miere —  . 
Quand  secourai-je  la  poussiere 
Qui  ternit  ses  nobles  couleurs  1 


H  est  cache  sous  ThumWe  paiUe 
Oil  je  dors,  pauvre  et  mutile, 
Lui  qui,  sur  de  vaincre,  a  vole 

Vingt  ans  de  bataiUe  en  bataille ; 
Chargfe  de  lauriers  et  de  fleurs, 

II  brilla  sur  I'Europe  entifere — 

Quand  secourai-je  la  poussiere 
Qui  ternit  ses  nobles  couleurs  ! 


Ce  drapeau  payait  a  la  France 

Tout  le  sang  qu'il  nous  a  co4t^ ; 

Sur  la  sein  de  la  liberte 
Nos  fils  jouaient  aveo  sa  lance  ; 

Qu'il  prouye  encor  aui  oppres- 
seurs 
Combien  la  gloire  est  roturiere — 
Quand  secourai-je  Id  poussiere 

Qui  ternit  ses  nobles  couleurs  I 


Comrades,  around  this  humble  board. 
Here's  to  our  banner's  by-gone 
splendour. 
There  may  be  treason  in  that  word — 
AH  Europe  may  the  proof  afford — 
All  France  be  the  offender ; 
But  drink  the  toast 
That  gladdens  most, 
Fires  the  young  heart  and  cheers  the 
old— 
"  May  France  once  more 

Her  tri-color 
Blest  with  new  life  behold  !" 

List  to  my  secret.     That  old  flag 

Under  my  bed  of  straw  is  hidden. 
Sacred  to  glory  !     War-worn  rag ! 
Thee  no  informer  thence  shall  drag, 
Nor  dastard  spy  say  'tis  forbidden. 

France,  I  can  Touch, 

WiU,  from  its  couch, 
The  dormant  symbol  yet  unfold, 

And  wave  once  more 

Her  tri-color 
Through  Europe,  uncontrolled  ! 

For  every  drop  of  blood  we  spent, 

Did  not  that  flag  give  value  plenty  ? 
Were  not  our  children  as  they  went, 
Jopund,  to  join  the  Warrior's  tent. 
Soldiers  at  ten,  heroes  at  twenty  ? 
Feaitcb  !  who  were  then 
Tour  noblemen  ? 
Not  they   of   parchment-must   and 
mould ! 
But  they  who  bore 
Your  tri-color  . 
Through  Europe,  uncontrolled  ! 


252 


FATHEB  PEOTTT'S  EELIQITBS. 


Son  atgle  est  rest^  dans  lapoudre, 

Fatigufe  de  lointains  exploits ; 

Eendons-lui  le  cog  des  G-aulois, 
n  S9ut  aussi  lancer  la  foudre. 

La  France,  oubliant  ses  dou- 
leurs, 
Le  reb^uira  libre  et  fi^re — 
Quand  secourai-je  la  poussiere 

Qui  temit  aes  nobles  couleurs  ! 


Las  d'errer  arec  la  victoire, 

Des  LOIS  a  deviendra  I'appiu  ; 

Chaque  soldat  fut,  grace  a  lui, 
CiTOTEN  aux  bords  de  la  Loire. 

Seul  il  pent  voEer  noa  mal- 
heurs, 
Deployons-le  sur  la  frontiere — 
Quand  secourai-je  la  pousii^re 

Qui  temit  ses  nobles  couleurs  ! 


Mais  il  est  la  pr4s  de  mes  amaes ! 

Vn  instant  osons  I'eutrevoir ; 

Viens,  men  drapeau!    yiens, 
mon  espoir  I 
Cest  a  toi  d'essuyer  mes  larmes  ! 

D'un  guerrier  qui  yerse  des 
pleurs 
Le  Ciel  entendra  la  pri4re — 
Qui,  Je  secouerai  la  poussiire 

Qui  temit  ses  nobles  couleurs  ! 


Leipsic  hath  seen  onr  eagle  fall, 
Drunk  with  renown,  worn  out  with 
glory; 
But,  with  the  emblem  of  old  Gtaul 
Crowning  our  standard,  we'U  recall 
The  brightest  days  olValmy's  stoiy! 
With  terror  pale 
Shall  despots  quail. 
When  in  their  ear  the  tale  is  told, 
0/  France  once  more 
Her  tri-color 
Preparing  to  unfold! 

Trust  not  the  lawless  ruffian  chiel, 

Worse  than  the  yilest  monarch  he ! 
Down  with  the  dungeon  and  Bastille  t 
But  let  our  country  never  kneel 
To  that  grim  idol.  Anarchy  ! 
Strength  shall  appear 
On  our  frontier — 
Prance  shall  be  Liberty's  strong- 
hold ! 
Then  earth  once  more 
The  tri-color 
With  blessings  shall  behold ! 

O  my  old  flag !  that  liest  hid. 
There  where  my  sword  and  musket 
lie — 
Banner,  come  forth !  for  tears  unhid 
Are  fiUing  fast  a  warrior's  lid, 
Which  thou  alone  canst  dry. 
A  soldier's  grief 
Shall  find  relief; 
Aveteran's  heart  shallbe  consoled — 
France  shall  once  more 
Her  tri-color 
Triumphantly  unfold  I 


After  this  glorious  dithyramb,  worthy  of  the  days  when 
the  chivalry  of  Prance  took  solemnly  the  oriflame  from  the 
Abbey  of  St.  Denis,  to  bear  it  foremost  in  the  fight,  for  the 
defence  of  their  native  land,  or  the  conquest  of  the  land  of 
Palestine ;  it  may  be  gratifying  to  produce  a  specimen  of 
the  earlier  military  songs  of  that  gallant  country.  I  select 
for  that  purpose  a  very  striking  lyric  effusion  from  the  pen 
of  old  Mar6t,  which  is  particularly  deserving  of  attention, 
from  its  marked  coincidence  in  thought  and  expression  with 


'j."HE  (iojsrwB  oj!'  jbaitcb.  253 

the  celebrated  Marseillaise  Hymn,  composed  at  the  distance 
of  three  centuries  ;  but  it  would  be  hard  to  say  which  pro. 
duced  on  the  wooden-shoed  men  of  France  the  greater  im- 
pression in  its  day. 

f[u  JBuc  K'aicncon, 

Commandant  I'Avant  Garde  de  I'Arm^e  Framfaise,  1521. 

Di  vers  HainEiult,  sur  les  fins  de  champagne, 

Est  arrive  le  bon  Duo  d'Alen^on, 
Aveque  honneur  qui  toujours  raccompagne 

Comme  le  sien  propre  et  vrai  ecusson  : 
Lk  peut  on  veoir  sur  la  grand3  plaine  unie 
Do  bona  soudars  son  enseigue  munie, 
Pres  d' employer  leurs  bras  fulminatoire, 
A  repousser  dedans  leurs  territoire 

L'ours  Hauvier,  gent,  rustique,  et  brutalle, 
Voulant  marcher  sans  raison  peremptoire 

Sur  les  climats  de  France  occidentale. 

Prenez  hault  coeur,  donques,  Prance  et  Bretagne ! 

Car  si  en  ce  camp  tenez  fiere  fa^on, 
Pondre  verrez  deyant  vous  TAJllemagne, 

Comme  au  soleil  blanche  niege  et  gla^ou ; 
PiflFres  !  tambours  !  sonnez  en  harmonie ; 
Ayeuturiers  !  que  la  pique  on  manie 
Pour  les  chequer  et  mettre  en  accessoire. 
Car  deja  sont  au  royal  possessoire  : 

Mais  comme  je  cro;s  destinee  fatalle 
Veult  ruiner  leur  outrageuse  gloire 

Sur  les  climats  de  Prance  occidentale. 

'.  Donques  pietons  marchans  sur  la  campagne, 

Foudroyez  tout  sans  rien  prendre  a  ranijon ; 
Preux  oheTaliera,  puisqu'honueur  on  y  gague, 

Vos  ennemies  poussez  hors  de  Tarpon, 
Paites  rougir  du  sang  de  Q-ermanie 
Les  clairs  ruTsseaux  dont  la  terre  est  gamie ; 
Si  seront  mis  tos  hauts  noms  en  histoire  : 
Prappez  done  tous  de  main  gladiatoire, 

Qu'aprfes  leur  mort  et  deffaicte  totaJle 
Vous  rapportiez  la  palme  de  victoire 

Sur  les  climats  de  Prance  occidentale. 

Prince !  rempU  de  haut  los  meritoire, 
Faisons  les  tous,  si  Toua  me  voulez  croire, 

Aller  humer  leur  cervoise  et  godalle ; — (yoorf  aM  f) 
Car  de  nos  vins  ont  grand  desir  de  boire 

Sur  les  climats  de  France  occidentale. 


254  TATHEE  PKOITT'S   EELIQUES. 

^BUrtStf  to  fijt  'Fanguatlf  of  ti)e  jFwnfS 

Under  the  Duke  d'Alenfon,  1521. 
CLEMENT   MABOT. 

Soldiers !  at  length  their  gathered  strength  our  might  is  doomed  to 

feel- 
Spain  and  Brabant  comiUtant — ^Bavaria  and  Castile. 
Idiots,  they  think  chat  !France  wUl  shrink  from  a  foe  that  rushes  on, 
And  terror  damp  the  gallant  camp  of  the  bold  Duke  d'Alenfon  I 
But  wail  and  wo  betide  the  foe  that  waits  for  our  assault ! 
Back  to  his  lair  our  pikes  shall  scare  the  wild  boar  of  Hainault. 
La  Meuse  shall  flood  her  banks  with  blood,  ere  the  sons  of  Prance  resign 
Their  glorious  fields — the  land  that  yields  the  oHve  and  the  vine ! 

Then  draw  the  blade  !  be  our  ranks  arrayed  to  the  sound  of  the  martial 

fife; 
In  the  foeman's  ear  let  the  trumpeter  blow  a  blast  of  deadly  strife  j 
And  let  each  knight  collect  his  might,  as  if  there  hung  this  day 
The  fate  of  France  on  his  single  lance  in  the  hour  of  the  coming  fray : 
As  melts  the  snow  in  summer's  glow,  so  may  our  helmets'  glare 
Consume  their  host ;  so  folly's  boa^t  vanish  in  empty  air. 
Pools !  to  beheve  the  sword  could  give  to  the  children  of  the  Bhine 
Our  Gallic  fields — the  land  that  yields  the  olive  and  the  vine ! 

Can  Germans  face  our  Norman  race  in  the  conflict's  awful  shock — 
Brave  the  war-cry  of  "  BuiTAirtfY !"  the  shout  of  "  Languedoo  !" 
Dare  they  confront  the  battle's  brunt — the  fell  encounter  try 
When  dread  Bayard  leads  on  his  guard  of  stout  gendarmerie  ? 
Strength  be  the  test — then  breast  to  breast,  ay,  grapple  man  with  man  ; 
Strength  in  the  ranks,  strength  on  both  flanks,  and  valour  in  the  van. 
Let  war  efface  each  softer  grace ;  on  stem  Bellona's  shrine 
We  vow  to  shield  the  plains  that  yield  the  olive  and  the  vine ! 

Methinks  I  see  bright  Victory,  in  robe  of  glory  drest, 

Joyful  appear  on  the  Prench  frontier  to  the  chieftain  she  loves  best  j 

While  grim  Defeat,  in  contrast  meet,  scowls  o'er  the  foeman's  tent, 

She  on  our  duke  smiles  down  with  look  of  blythe  encouragement. 

E'en  now,  I  ween,  our  foes  have  seen  their  hopes  of  conquest  fail ; 

Glad  to  regain  their  homes  again,  and  quaff  their  Saxon  ale. 

So  may  it  be  while  chivalry  and  loyal  hearts  combine 

To  lift  a  brand  for  the  bonnie  land  of  the  oUve  and  the  vine  ! 

And  now  let  us  give  truce  to  war,  and,  turning  to  calmer 
Bubjecta,  smoke  for  awhile  the  calumet  of  peace  with  a  poet 
of  gentler  disposition.  Poor  Millevoye !  it  is  with  a  me- 
lancholy pleasure  that  agaia  I  turn  to  his  pure  and  pathetlo 
page ;  but  he  was  a  favourite  of  the  Muae,  and,  need  I  add. 


THE    SONGS    01"  rEAJ<rOE. 


255 


of  mine  ?    "WTio  can  peruse  this  simple  melody  without  feel- 
ing deeply  interested  in  the  fate  of  its  author  ? 


Ea  Ci^utt  tiei  :ftu\tttS. 

Par  Milkvoye, 

De  la  depoiiiUe  de  noa  boia 

li'automne  avait  jonche  la  terre, 
XiQ  bocage  etait  sans  mystfere, 

-Le  rossignol  etait  sans  voix. 

Triste  et  mourant  a  son  aurore, 
Un  jeune  malade,  h,  pas  lents, 

Paroourait  une  fois  encore 

le  bois  cber  k  ses  premiers  ans. 


"Bois  que  j'aime,  adieu!  je  suc- 
combe — 

Ton  deuil    m'avertit    de  mon 
sort; 
Et  dans  chaque  feuiUe  qui  tembe 

Je  vois  un  presage  de  mort. 
Fatal  oracle  d'Epidaure, 

Turn' as  dit, ' Les feuilles des  bois 
A  tea  yeux  jauniront  encore, 

Mais  c'estpour  la  derniere  fois!" 

L'eternel  cypres  se  balance ; 
Deja  sur  ma  t^te  en  sUence 

II  incline  ses  rameaux  : 
Ma  jeunesse  sera  fletrie 
Avant  I'herbe  de  la  prairie, 

Avant  le  pampre  des  edteaux ! 

Et  je  meurs !  de  leur  froide  haleine 
M'out  touche  les  sombres  au- 
tans, 

Et  j'ai  TU  comme  une  ombre  vaine 
S'^vanouir  mon  beau  printems. 

Tombe !  tombe,  feuiUe  ephemere ! 

Couvre,  helas !  ce  triste  chemiu ! 
Cache  au  desespoir  de  ma  mfere 

La  place  oil  je  serai  demain  ! 


CtiJ  dfall  of  ti)c  V.tabtS. 


Autumn  had  stript  the  grove,  and 
strew'd 

The  Tale  with  leafy  carpet  o'er — 
Shorn  of  its  mystery  the  wood, 

AndPhilomel  bade  sing  no  more — 
Tet  one  still  hither  comes  to  feed 

His  gaze  on  childhood's  merry 
path ;  ' 

Eor  him,  sict  youth !  poor  invalid ! 

Lonely  attraction  stiE  it  hath, 

"I  come  to  bid  you  farewell  brief, 

Here,  O  my  infancy's  wild  haunt! 
Eor  death  gives  ia  each  faUing  leaf 

Sad  summons  to  your  visitant. 
'Twas  a  stern  oracle  that  told 

My  dark  decree,  '  I'he  woodland 
bloom 
Once  more  ^tis  given  thee  to  behold. 

Then  comes  tK  inexorable  tomb .'" 


Th'  eternal  cypress,  balancing 

Its  tall  form  hte  some  funertd  thing 

In  silence  o'er  my  head. 
Tells  me  my  youth  shall  wither  fast, 
Ere  the  grass  fades — yea,  ere  the  last 

Stalk  from  the  vine  is  shed. 

I  die !  Yes,  vrith  his  icy  breath, 
Eixed  Pate  has  frozen  up  my 
blood ; 

Aud  by  the  ohiUy  blast  of  Death 
Nipt  is  my  life's  spring  in  the  bud. 

Pall !  faU,  O  transitory  leaf! 

And  cover  well  this  path  of  sorrow ; 
Hide  from  my  mother's  searching 
grief 

The  spot  where  I'll  be  laid  to- 


256  EATHEE  PEOTJT'S   EELIQUES. 

Mais  si  mon  amante  voilee  But  should  my  loved  one's  feiiy 

Vient  dans  la  solitaire  allee,  tread 

Pleurer  a  I'heure  ou  le  jour  fiiit ;    Seek  the  sad  dwelling  of  the  dead, 
EveiUe,  par  un  leger  bruit,  Silent,  alone,  at  eve  ; 

Hon  ombre  un  instant  consolee !"    O  then  with  rustling  murmur  meet 

The  echo  of  her  coming  feet. 
And  sign  of  welcome  give !" 

II  dit.     S'eloigne  et  sans  retour ;      Such  was  the  sick  youth's  last  sad 

La  demiere  f'euille  qui  tombe  thought ; 

A  signal^  sou  dernier  jour;  Then  slowly  &om  the  grove  he 

Sous  le  ch^ue  on  creusa  sa  moved  j 

tombe.  Next  moon  that  way  a  corpse  was 

Mais  son  amante  ne  vint  pas  j —  brought, 

Et  la  ptltre  de  la  valine  And  buried  in  the  bower  he  loved. 

Troubla  seul  du  bruit  de  ses  pas      But  at  his  grave  no  form  appeared, 
Le  silence  du  mausolee.  No  fairy  mourner  :   through  the 

wood 
The  shepherd's  tread  alone  was  heard, 
Li  the  sepulchral  solitude. 

Attuned  to  the  sad  harmony  of  that  closing  stanza,  and 
set  to  the  same  key-note  of  impassioned  sorrow,  are  the 
following  lines  of  Chateaubriand,  which  1  believe  have  never 
appeared  in  print,  at  least  in  this  country.  They  were  com- 
posed on  the  occasion  of  a  young  and  beautiful  girl's  pre- 
mature death,  the  day  her  remains  were,  with  the  usual 
ceremony  of  placing  a  wreath  of  white  roses  on  the  bier, 
consigned  to  the  earth. 

€I)at(aubrtaitt(. 

Sur  la  Filh  de  mon  Ami,  enterree  liier  devant  moi  an  Cimetiire  de  Pastj/, 
16  Juin,  1832. 

H  descend  oe  eercueil !  et  les  roses  sans  taches 

Qu'un  p&re  y  deposa,  tribut  de  sa  douleur : 
Terre !  tu  les  portas !  et  maiuteuant  tu  caches 

Jeune  fille  et  jeunj  fleur ! 
Ah !  ne  les  rends  jamais  a  ce  monde  prophane, 

A  oe  monde  de  deuil,  d'angoisse,  et  de  malheui'! 
Le  vent  brise  et  fletrit,  le  soleil  brAle  et  fane 

Jeune  fiUe  et  jeune  fleur! 
Tu  dors,  pauvre  EUsa,  si  legSre  d'ann&s ! 

Tu  ne  Grains  plus  du  jour  le  poids  et  la  chaleiir  | 
Biles  ont  acheve  leurs  iraiches  matinees, 

Jeune  fille  et  jeune  fleur ! 


THE    SONGS    OF   I'EANCE.  257 

Ere  that  oofim  goes  down,  let  it  bear  on  its  lid 

The  garland  of  roses 
Which  the  hand  of  a  father,  her  mournerB  amid, 
In  silence  deposes — 
'Tis  the  young  maiden's  funeral  hour ! 
From  thy  bosom,  O  earth !  sprung  that  yoimg  budding  rose 
And  'tis  meet  that  together  thy  lap  should  enclose 

The  young  maid  and  the  flower! 
Nerer,  never  give  back  the  two  symbols  so  pure 

Which  to  thee  we  confide ; 
From  the  bireath  of  this  world  and  its  plague-spot  secure, 
Let  them  sleep  side  by  side — 
They  shall  know  not  its  pestilent  power ! 
Soon  the  breath  of  contagion,  the  deadly  mildew. 
Or  the  fierce  scorching  sun,  might  parch  up  as  they  grew 

The  young  maid  and  the  flower ! 
Poor  Ehza !  for  thee  life's  enjoyments  have  fled, 

But  its  pangs  too  are  flown ! 
Then  go  sleep  in  the  grave !  in  that  cold  bridal  bed 

Death  may  call  thee  his  own — 
Take  this  handful  of  clay  for  thy  dower ! 
Of  a  texture  wert  thou  far  top  gentle  to  last ; 
'Twas  a  morning  thy  life !  now  the  matins  are  past 
Por  the  maid  and  the  flower ! 


No.   IX. 

THE   SONGS    or    FEANCE. 


Oir    -WXKE,    -WAE,     WOMBIT,    -WOODEir     SHOES,     PHIIOSOPHX, 
IKGGS    AND    FEBE   TEADE. 

•fftom  t^e  33fout  J^aptis. 

OhAPTEE  III. — PHIiOSOPHr. 
"Quando  GaUus  cantat,  Petrus  flet." — Sixtus  V.  Pont.  Max. 

•*Si  de  noB  coqs  la  vois  altiere  "If  old  St.  Peter  on  his  rock 

Troubla  I'heritier  de  St.  Pierre,  Weptwhen  he  heard  the  Gallic  cock, 
GtAce  aux  annates  anjourd'hui.  Has  not  the  good  French  hen  (God 
Nos  poules  vont  pondre  pour  lui."  bless  her  !) 

Beeangbb.     laid  many  aa  egg  for  his  succes- 
sor?" 

Beeoee  we  plunge  with  Prout  into  the  depths  of  Prench 
Philosophy,  we  must  pluck  a  crow  with  the  "  Sun."    Not 


258  FATHEE  PHOUT'S  EELIQrES. 

often  does  it  occur  to  us  to  notice  a  newspaper  criticism ; 
nor,  indeed,  in  this  case,  should  we  condescend  to  was 
angry  at  the  discharge  of  the  penny-a-liner's  popgun,  were 
it  not  that  an  imputation  has  been  cast  on  the  good  father's 
memory,  which  cannot  be  overlooked,  and  must  be  wiped 
away.  The  caitiff  who  writes  in  the  "  Sun"  has,  at  the  ia- 
stigation  of  Satan,  thrown  out  a  hint  that  these  songs,  and 
specifically  his  brUliant  translation  of  "  Malbrouck,"  were 
written  "under  vinous  inspiration!"  A  false  and  atrocious 
libel.  Great  mental  powers  and  superior  cleverness  are  too 
often  supposed  to  derive  assistance  from  the  bottle.  Thus 
the  virtue  of  the  elder  Cato  {prisd  Catonis)  is  most  unjus- 
tifiably ascribed  to  potations  by  unreflecting  Horace ;  and 
a  profane  Trench  sophist  has  attributed  Noah's  escape  from 
the  flood  to  similar  partiality  : 

"  Noe  le  patriarche,  "  To  have  drown'd  an  old  cliap, 

Si  celihii  par  I'arche,  Such  a  friend  to  'the  tap,' 

Aim  a  fort  le  jus  du  tonneau ;  The  flood  would  have  felt  compuno- 

Puisqu'il  planta  la  vigne,  tion : 

Conrenez  qu'^tait  digne  Noah  owed  his  escape 

De  ne  point  se  noyer  dans  I'eau!"  To  his  love  for  the  grape ; 

And  his  'ark'  was  an  empty  pun- 
cheon." 

The  illustrious  Queen  Anne,  who,  like  our  own  EEaiifA, 
encouraged  literature  and  patronised  wit,  was  thus  calum- 
niated after  death,  when  her  statue  was  put  up  where  it 
now  stands,  with  its  back  to  Paul's  church  and  its  face 
turned  towards  that  celebrated  corner  of  the  churchyard 
which  in  those  days  was  a  brandy-shop.  Nay,  was  not  our 
late  dignified  Lord  Chancellor  equaUy  lampooned,  without 
the  slightest  colour  of  a  pretext,  excepting,  perhaps,  "  be- 
cause his  nose  is  red."  Good  reason  has  he  to  curse  his  evil 
genius,  and  to  exclaim  with  Ovid — 

"  Ingenio  peril  Naso  poeta  meo !" 

"We  were  prepared,  by  our  previous  knowledge  of  history, 
for  this  outbreak  of  calumny  in  Prout's  case ;  we  knew,  by 
a  reference  to  the  biography  of  Christopher  Columbus,  of 
Galileo,  and  of  Dr.  Faustus  (the  great  inventor  of  the  art 
of  printing),  that  his  iutellectual  superiority  would  raise  up 
a  host  of  adversaries  prepared  to  malign  hiin,  nay,  if  neees- 


THE    SONGS   OF  FBANCE.  259 

Bary,  to  accuse  him  of  witchcraft.  The  writer  in  the  "  San" 
has  not  jret  gone  quite  so  far,  contenting  himself  for  the 
present  with  the  assertion,  that  the  father  penned  "  these 
Songs  of  Prance  "  to  the  sound  of  a  gurgling  flagon — 

"Aui  doux  gloux  gloux  que  fait  la  bouteille." 
The  idea  is  not  new.  When  Demosthenes  shaved  his  head, 
and  spent  the  winter  in  a  cellar  transcribing  the  works  of 
Thucydides,  'twas  said  of  him,  on  his  emerging  into  the 
light  of  the  ^nita,,  that  "  his  speeches  smelt  of  oil."  It 
was  stated  of  that  locomotive  knight,  Sir  Eichard  Black- 
more,  whose  epic  poem  on  King  Arthur  is  now  (like  Boh 
Montgomery's  "  Omnipresence  ")  present  nowhere,  that  he 

"  Wrote  to  the  rumbling  of  his  coach-wheels." 

In  allusion  to  Byron's  lameness,  it  was  hinted  by  some 
ZoUus  that  he  penned  not  a  few  of  his  verses  slans  pede  in 
uno.  Even  a  man's  genealogy  is  not  safe  from  innuendo 
and  inference ;  for  Sam  Rogers  having  discovered,  from 
Stranger's  song,  "  Le  TaUleur  et  la  I'^e,"  that  his  father 
was  a  tailor,  pronounced  his  parentage  and  early  impressions 
to  be  the  cause  why  he  was  such  a  capital  hand  at  a  hem- 
a-stich.  If  a  similar  analogy  can  hold  good  in  Tom  Moore's 
case  (whose  juvenile  associations  were  of  a  grocer  sort),  it 
will  no  doubt  become  obvious  why  Ms  compositions  are  so 
"highly  spiced,"  his  taste  so  "liquorish,"  and  his  muse  so 
prodigal  of  "  sugar-candy." 

But  is  it  come  to  this  ?  must  we  needs,  at  this  time  of 
vday,  vindicate  the  holy  man's  character  ?  and  are  we  driven 
to  take  up  the  cudgels  for  his  sobriety  ? — ^he,  whose  frugal  life 
was  proverbial,  and  whose  zeal,  backed  by  personal  example, 
was  all-powerful  to  win  his  parishioners  from  the  seduction 
of  barleycorn,  and  reduce  them  to  a  habit  of  temperance, 
ad  bonam  frugem  reducere  !  He,  of  whom  it  might  be  pre- 
dicated, that  while  a  good  conscience  was  the  juge  convivium 
of  his  mind,  his  corporeal  banquet  was  a  perpetual  red- 
herring  !  Water-cresses,  so  abundant  on  that  bleak  hill, 
were  his  only  luxury;  for  he  belonged  to  that  class  of 
Pythagorean  philosophers  of  whom  Virgil  speaks,  in  his 
description  of  the  plague  : 

"  If  on  illis  epulae  nocufire  repostso ; 
IVondibus  et  victu  pascuntur  simplicis  herbsD." — Georg.  III. 


260  TATHEE  PEOTJT'S   EELIQUES. 

Cicero  fcells  us,  in  his  Tusculan  Questions  (what  he  might 
have  read  in  Xenophon),  that  water-cresses  were  a  favourite 
diet  iu  Persia.  His  words  are :  "  Persse  nihil  ad  panem 
adhibebant  praster  nasturtium."  (Tusc.  QusBst.  v.  140). 
I  only  make  this  remark,  en  passant,  as,  in  comparing  Ire- 
land with  what  Tom  calls 

"  that  delightful  prOTince  of  the  sun, 
The  land  his  orient  beam  first  shines  upon," 

it  would  seem  that  "round  towers"  and  water-cresses  are 
distinctive  characteristics  of  both  countries  ;  a  matter  Some- 
what singular,  since  the  taste  for  water-grass  is  by  no  means 
goneraUy  diflFused  among  European  nations.  Pliny,  indeed 
(Hb.  xix.  cap.  8),  goes  so  far  as  to  state,  that  this  herb 
creates  an  unpleasant  titUlation  in  the  nose :  "  Nasturtium 
nomen  accepit  i  narium  tormeuto."  But  Spenser  says  of 
the  native  Irish,  that  "  wherever  they  found  a  plot  of  sham- 
rocks or  water-cresses,  there  they  flocked  as  to  a  feast." — 
State  of  Ireland,  a.d.  1580. 

When  we  assert  that  Prout  was  thus  a  model  of  abste- 
miousness, we  by  no  means  intend  to  convey  the  notion 
that  he  was  inhospitable.  Is  not  his  Carousal  on  record 
in  the  pages  of  Eboina  ?  and  will  it  not  be  remembered 
when  the  feast  of  O'Eourke  is  forgotten  ?  If  a  friend 
chanced  to  drop  into  his  hut  on  a  frosty  night,  he  felt  no 
more  scruple  in  cracking  with  his  guest  a  few  bottles  of 
Medoc,  than  George  Knapp,  the  redoubtable  Mayor  of 
Cork,  in  demolishing,  with  his  municipal  club,  a  mad-dog's 
pericranium.  Nor  were  his  brother-clergy  in  that  diocese 
less  remarkable  for  well-ordered  conviviality.  Horace,  in 
his  trip  to  Brundusium,  says,  that  parish-priests  are  only 
bound  (on  account  of  their  poverty)  to  supply  a  stranger 
with  a  fire-side  of  bog-wood,  and  potatoes  and  salt — 

"  Suppeditant  parochi  quod  debent  ligna  salemgue ;" 

whereas  he  foolishly  itnagines  that  nothing  can  surpass  a 
bishop's  hospitality — 

"  Pontiflcum  potiore  coenis." 

"Were  the  poet  now-a-days  (a.d.  1830)  to  make  a  trip  to 
Cork,  he  would  find  matters  managed  vice  vend. 


THE    SONfiS    OF   FEAIfCE.  261 

From  a&  we  have  said  on  this  subject,  and  still  more  from 
what  we  could  add,  if  inclined  to  be  wrathful,  Prout's  calum- 
niators may  learn  a  lesson  of  forbearance  and  decorum.  His 
paths  are  the  paths  of  pleasantness  and  peace.  But  we  are 
determined  to  protect  him  from  assault.  Far  be  it  from  us 
to  throw  an  apple  of  discord ;  but  Prout  is  the  apple  of  our 
eye.  Let  the  man  in  "  the  Sun"  read  how  Daniel  O'Eourke 
fell  from  "  the  moon ;"  let  him  recoUect  the  Dutch  ambassa* 
dor's  remark  when  the  grand  monarque  shewed  him  his  own 
royal  face  painted  in  the  disc  of  an  emblematic  "  Sol :"  "  Je 
vois  avec  plaisir  voire  majesty  dans  le  plus  ffrandDus  astees." 

OLIVEE  TOEKE. 

Sec.  1st,  1834. 


WatergrasshiU,  Dec.  1833. 
The  historian  of  Charles  the  Eifth,  in  that  chapter  wherein 
he  discourseth  of  the  children  of  Loyola,  takes  the  oppor- 
tunity of  manifesting  his  astonishment  that  so  learned  a  body 
of  men  should  never  have  produced,  among  crowds  of  poets, 
critics,  divines,  metaphysicians,  orators,  and  astronomers, 
"  one  single  philosopher  .'"  The  remark  is  not  original.  The 
ingenious  maggot  was  first  generated  in  the  brain  of  D'Alem- 
beit,  himself  an  undeniable  "philosopher."  Every  one,  I 
imagine,  knows  what  guess-sort  of  wiseacre  France  gave 
birth  to  in  the  person  of  that  algebraic  personage.  I  say 
France  in  general,  a  wholesale  term,  as  none  ever  knew  who 
his  parents  were  in  detail,  he,  like  myself,  having  graduated 
in  a  foundling  hospital.  In  the  noble  seminary  des  Enfans 
TrouvSs,  (that  metropolitan  magazine  for  anonymous  contri- 
butions,) the  future  geometer  was  only  known  by  the  name 
of  "  Jean  le  Eond,"  which  he  exchanged  in  after-life  for 
the  more  sonorous  title  of  D'Alembert :  not  rendering  him- 
self thereby  a  whit  more  capable  of  finding  the  quadrature 
of  the  circle.  To  be  sure,  in  the  fancy  for  a  high-sounding 
name  he  only  imitated  his  illustrious  fellow -labourer  in  the 
vineyard,  Fran9ois  Arouet,  whom  mortals  have  learnt  to  call 
"  Voltaire  "  by  his  ovm  particular  desire.  Now  Eobertson, 
of  the  Kirk  of  Scotland,  ought  to  have  known,  when  he 
adopted,  second-hand,  this  absurdity,  that  by  philosopher 
the  French  infidel  meant  any  thing  but  a  well-regulated, 


262  FATHEE  PEOITt'S   EELIQTJES. 

sound,  and  sagacious  mind,  reposing  in  calm  grandeur  on 
the  rock  of  Eevelation,  and  looking  on  with  scornful  pity 
while  modern  sophists  go  through  all  the  drunken  capers  of 
emancipated  scepticism.  Does  the  historian,  grave  and 
thoughtful  as  he  is,  mean  to  countenance  such  vagaries  of 
human  reason  ?  does  he  deem  the  wild  mazes  of  the  philo- 
sophic dance,  in  which  Hobbes,  Spinoza,  Bolingbroke,  David 
Hume,  and  Monboddo,  join  with  Diderot,  Helvetius,  and 
the  D'Holbac  revellers,  worthy  of  applause  and  imitation  ? 

"  Saltautes  eatyros  imitabitur  Alphesiboeus  ?" 

If  such  be  the  blissful  vision  of  his  philosophy,  then,  indeed, 
may  we  exclaim,  with  the  poet  of  Eton  CoUege,  "  'Tis  folly 
to  be  wise !"  But  if  to  possess  an  unrivalled  knowledge  of 
human  nature — ^if  to  ken  vnth  intuitive  glance  all  the 
secrets  of  men's  hearts — if  to  control  the  passions — if  to 
gain  ascendancy  by  sheer  intellect  over  mankind — if  to 
civilise  the  savage — if  to  furnish  zealous  and  intelligent 
missionaries  to  the  Indian  and  American  hemisphere,  as 
well  as  professors  to  the  Universities  of  Europe,  and  "  con- 
fessors" to  the  court  of  kings, — ^be  characteristics  of  ge- 
nuine philosophy  and  mental  greatness,  allow  me  to  put  in  a 
claim  for  the  Society  that  is  no  more  ;  the  downfal  of  which 
was  the  signal  for  every  evU  bird  of  bad  omen  to  flit  abroad 
and  pollute  the  world — 

"  Obsooenique  canes,  importunceque  volueres." 

And  still,  though  it  may  sound  strange  to  modern  democrats, 
the  first  treatise  on  the  grand  dogma  of  the  sovereignty  of 
the  people  was  written  and  published  in  Spain  by  a  Jesuit, 
Jt  was  Father  Mariana  who  first,  in  his  book  "  De  Institu- 
tione  Eegis,"  taught  the  doctrine,  that  kings  are  but  trustees 
for  the  benefit  of  the  nation,  freely  developing  what  was 
timidly  hinted  at  by  Thomas  Aquinas.  Bayle,  whom  the 
professor  will  admit  to  the  full  honours  of  a  philosophic  chair 
of  pestilence,*  acknowledges,  in  sundry  passages,  the  supe- 
rior sagacity  of  those  pious  men,  under  whom,  by  the  way, 
he  himself  studied  at  Toulouse ;  and  if,  by  accumulating 

•  "  Cathedra  pestilentia"  is  the  Vulgate  translation  of  what  the  au- 
thorised Churoh-version  calls  the  "  seat  of  the  scornful,"  Fsalm  i.  1. 
— O.  Y. 


THE    SONGS   or   FEANCE.  263 

doubts  and  darkness  on  the  truths  of  Clinstianity,  he  has 
merited  to  be  called  the  cloud-compelling  Jupiter  among 
philosophers,  viipskriyigiTa,  Zixjg,  surely  some  particle  of  philo- 
sophic praise,  equivocal  as  it  is,  might  be  reserved  for  those 
able  masters  who  stimulated  his  early  inquiries, — excited 
and.  fed  his  young  appetite  for  erudition.  But  they  sent 
forth  from  their  schools,  in  Descartes,  in  Torricelli,  and  in 
Bossuet,  much  sounder  specimens  of  reasoning  and  wisdom. 

I  hesitate  not  to  aver,  as  a  general  proposition,  that  the 
French  chq,racter  is  essentially  unphilosophical.  Of  the 
Greeks  it  has  been  said,  what  I  would  rather  apply  to  our 
merry  neighbours,  that  they  were  "  a  nation  of  children," 
possessing  all  the  frolicsome  wildness,  aU  the  playful  attrac- 
tiveness of  that  pleasant  epoch  in  Hfe ;  but  deficient  in  the 
graver  faculties  of  dispassionate  reflection :  ''EXKring  am 
imihig,  yiguv  be  'EXXjii/  ovbiii. — (Plato,  "  Timseus:")  In  the 
reign  of  Louis  XIV.,  Pfere  Bouhours  gravely  discusses,  in  his 
"  CouTs  de  Belles  Lettres,"  the  question,  "  whether  a  native 
of  Germany  can  possess  wit  ?"  The  phlegmatic  dwellers  on 
the  Danube  might  retort  by  proposing  as  a  problem  to  the 
TTniversity  of  Gr6ttinge;n,  "An  datur  phUosophus  inter 
GaUos  ?"  Certain  it  is,  and  I  know  them  well,  that  the 
calibre  of  their  mind  is  better  adapted  to  receive  and  dis- 
charge "  small  shot"  than  "  heavy  metal."  That  they  are 
more  calculated  to  shine  in  the  imaginative,  the  ornamental, 
the  refined  and  deHcate  departments  of  literature,  than  in  the 
sober,  sedate,  and  profound  pursuits  of  philosophy ;  and  it 
is  not  without  reason  that  history  tells  of  their  ancestors, 
when  on  the  point  of  taking  the  capitol,  that  they  were 
foiled  and  discomfited  by  the  solemn  steadiness  of  a  goose. 

Cicero  had  a  great  contempt  for  the  guidance  of  Greek 
philosophers  in  matters  appertaining  to  religion,  thinking, 
with  reason,  that  there  was  in  the  Roman  gravity  a  more 
fitting  disposition  of  mind  for  such  important  inquiries: 
"  Ciim  de  religione  agitur,  Titum  Coruncanium  aut  Publium 
Scsevolam,  pontifices  maximos,  non  Zenonem,  aut  Cleanthum, 
aut  Chrysippum  sequor."  (Be  Natura  Dear.)  The  terms 
of  insulting  depreciation,  Grteculus  and  Grtecia  mendax,  are 
familiar  to  the  readers  of  the  Latin  classics ;  and  from 
Aristophanes  we  can  learn,  ih&t  frogs,  a  talkative,  saltatory, 
and  unsubstantial  noun  of  multitude,  was  then  applied  to 


264  I'ATHEE  PEOUt's   EEIIQUES. 


Greeks,  as  now-a-days  to  Prenchmen.  But  of  this  more 
anon,  when  I  come  to  treat  of  "  frogs  and  free-trade."  I 
am  now  on  the  chapter  of  philosophy. 

Vague  generalities,  and  sweeping  assertions  relative  to 
national  character,  are  too  much  the  fashion  with  writers  of 
the  Puckler  Mustaw  and  Lady  Morgan  school :  wherefore 
I  select  at  once  an  individual  illustration  of  my  theory  con- 
cerning the  Prench  ;  and  I  hope  I  shall  not  be  accused  of 
dealing  unfairly  towards  them  when  I  put  forward  as  a 
sample  the  Comte  de  Buffon.  Of  all  the  eloquent  prose 
writers  of  France,  none  has  surpassed  in  graceful  an.d  har- 
monious diction  the  great  naturalist  of  Burgundy.  His 
work  combines  two  qualities  rarely  found  in  conjunction  on 
the  same  happy  page,  viz.,  accurate  technical  information 
and  polished  elegance  of  style ;  indeed  his  maxim  was  "  Le 
style  c'est  I'komme  :"  but  when  he  goes  beyond  his  depth — 
when,  tired  of  exquisite  delineations  and  graphic  depictur- 
ings, he  forsakes  the  "  swan,"  the  "  Arabian  horse,"  the 
"  beaver,"  and  the  "  ostrich,"  for  "  Sanconiathon,  Berosus, 
and  the  cosmogony  of  the  world,"  what  a  melancholy  exhi- 
bition does  he  make  of  ingenious  dotage  !  Having  prede- 
termined not  to  leave  Moses  a  leg  to  stand  on,  he  sweeps 
away  at  one  stroke  of  his  pen  the  foundations  of  Grenesis, 
and  reconstructs  their  terraqueous  planet  on  a  new  patent 
principle.  I  have  been  ab  some  pains  to  acquire  a  compre- 
hensive notion  of  his  system,  and,  aided  by  an  old  Jesuit,  I 
have  succeeding  in  condensing  the  voluminous  dissertation, 
into  a  few  lines,  for  the  use  of  those  who  are  dissatisfied 
with  the  Mosaic  statement,  including  Dr.  Buckland : 

1.  in  the  beginning  was  the  sun,  from  which  a  splinter 
was  shot  off  by  chance,  and  that  fragment  was  our  globe. 

2.  Snti  the  globe  had  for  its  nucleus  melted  glass,  with 
an  envelope  of  hot  water. 

3.  SnB  it  began  to  twirl  round,  and  became  somewhat 
flattened  at  the  poles. 

4.  j^otu,  when  the  water  grew  cool,  insects  began  to  ap- 
pear, and  shell-fish. 

5.  ^nlJ   from  the  accumulation  of   shells,  particularly 
oysters  (torn,  i.,  4to.  edit.  p.  14),  the  earth  was  gradually 


THE    SOKGS    OF  rEANCE.  265 

formed,  witli  ridges  of  mountains,  on  the  principle  of  the 
Monte  Testacio  at  the  gate  of  Rome. 

6.  33ut  the  melted  glass, kept  warm  for  a  long  time,  and 
the  arctic  climate  was  as  hot  in  those  days  as  the  tropics 
now  are :  witness  a  frozen  rhinoceros  found  in  Siberia,  &e. 
&c.  &c. 

To  aU.  which  discoveries  no  one  wiU  be  so  illiberal  as  to 
refuse  the  appropriate  acclamation  of  "  Very  fine  oysters  !"* 

As  I  have  thus  furnished  here  a  compendious  substitute 
for  the  obsolete  book  of  Genesis,  I  think  it  right  also  to 
supply  a  few  notions  on  astronomy  ;  wherefore  1  subjoin  a 
IVench  song  on  one  of  the  most  interesting  phenomena  of 
the  solar  system,  in  which  effusion  of  some  anonymous  poet 
there  is  about  as  much  wisdom  as  in  Buffon's  cosmogony. 

%a  Ci&torif  nti  i£clip;S{si.  <©n  ^olat  iEclipScS. 

(a  new  theoet.) 

{Jupiter  loquitur.)  For  the  use  qfthe  London  University. 

Je  jure  le  Styx  qui  toumoie  AllheaTeii,IswearbyStyxthatroIls 

Dans  le  pays  de  Tartara,  Its  dark  flood  round  the  land  of 

Qu'i"Colm-niaiIlard"  on jouera  souls! 

Or  sus !  tirez  au  sort,  qu'on  Toie  Shall  play  this  day  at  "  Blind 

Lequel  d'entre  vous  le  sera.  man's  buff." 

Come,  make  arrangements  on  the 

spot ; 
Prepare  the  'kerchief,  draw  the  lot — 
So  JoTe  commands  !    Enough ! 

le  bon  SoleU  I'avait  bien  dit —  LotfeUonSoi:  thestarswerestruek 

Xe  sort  lui  echut  en  partage :         At  such  an  instance  of  ill  luck. 
Chaoun  rit ;  et  suiyant  I'usage,  Then  Luna  forward  came, 

Aussit6t  la  Lune  s'offrit  And  bound  with  gentle,  modest 

Pour  lui  Toiler  son  beau  visage.  hand, 

O'er  his  bright  brow  the  muslia 
band : 
Hence  mortals  learned  the  game. 

It  would  be  scandalous  indeed,  if  the  palm  of  absurdity, 
the  bronze  medal  of  impudence  in  philosophic  discovery, 
were  to  be  awarded  to  Buffon,  when  Voltaire  stands  a  can- 
didate in  the  same  field  of  speculation.  This  great  man, 
discoursing  on  a  similar  subject,  in  his  profound  "  Questions 

*  Prout  felt  that  dislike  of  geological  induction  common  to  old- 
fiwhioned  churchmen — O.T. 


266  FATHEB  PEOUT'S   EELIQTJES. 

Encyclop^diques,"  laboura  to  remove  the  vulgar  presumption 
in  favour  of  a  general  deluge,  derived  from  certain  marine 
remains  and  conchylia  found  on  the  Alps  and  Pyrenees. 
He  does  not  hesitate  to  trace  these  shells  to  the  frequency 
of  pilgrims  returning  with  scoUops  on  their  hats  from  St. 
Jago  di  Compostello  across  the  mountains.  Here  are  his 
words,  q.  e.  (art.  Coquil.) :  "  Si  nous  faisons  reflexion  &,  la 
foule  innombrable  de  pfl^rins  qui  partent  k  pied  de  St. 
Jaques  en  G-alice,  et  de  toutes  les  provinces,  pour  aller  h. 
Eome  par  le  Mont  C^nis,  charges  de  coquilles  d  leurs  bon- 
nets," &c.  &c. — a  deep  and  original  explanation  of  a  very 
puzzling  geological  problem. 

But  let  the  patriarch  of  Perney  hide  his  diminished  head 
before  a  late  YrensAi. philosophic  writer,  citoyen  Dupuis,  author 
of  that  sublime  work,  "De  I'Origine  des  Cultes."  This 
performance  is  a  manual  of  deism,  and  deservedly  has  been 
commemorated  by  a  poet  from  Gascony ;  who  concludes  his 
complimentary  stanzas  to  the  author  by  telling  him  that  he 
has  at  last  drawn  up  Truth  from  the  bottom  of  the  well  to 
which  the  ancients  had  consigned  her : 

Vous  avez  bien  merite  Truth  in  a  well  was  said  to  dwell, 

De  la  patrie,  Sire  Dupuis :  From  whence  no  art  could  pluck  it ; 

Vous  avez  tir^  la  verite  But  now  'tis  known,  raised  by  the  loan 

Du  puita !  Of  thy  philosophic  bucket. 

Citizen  Dupuis  has  imagined  a  simple  method  of  explain- 
ing the  rise  and  origin  of  Christianity,  which  he  clearly 
shews  to  have  been  nothing  at  its  commencement  but  an  "  as- 
tronomical allegory :"  Christ  standing  for  the  Sun,  the 
twelve  apostles  representing  the  twelve  signs  of  the  Zodiac, 
Peter  standing  for  "  Aquarius,"  and  Didymus  for  one  of 
"the  twins,"  &c. ;  just  with  as  much  ease  as  a  future  histo- 
rian of  these  countries  may  convert  our  grand  "Whig  cabinet 
into  an  allegorical  fable,  putting  Lord  Althorp  for  the  sign 
of  Taurus,  Palmerston  for  the  Goat,  Ellice  for  Ursa  Major, 
and  finding  in  Stanley  an  undeniable  emblem  of  Scorpio* 

Volney,  in  his  "  Euines,"  seems  to  emulate  the  bold  theo- 
ries of  Dupuis  ;  and  the  conclusion  at  which  all  arrive,  by 
the  devious  and  labyrinthine  paths  they  severally  tread, — 
whether,  with  Lamettrie,  they  adopt  plain  materialism ;  or, 

*  "  Bear  Ellice"  and  "  Scorpion  Stanley"  were  hous^old  words  in 
1830,  as  well  as  Lord  Althorpe's  bucolic  and  Palmerstou's  erotic  famei 


"Tb.e  HlghLt  before  LarrT  vj-as    stxetclied." 


^^y.  26r. 


THE    SONGS   OF   TEAITOE. 


267 


■with  Condillac,  hint  at  the  possibility  of  matter  being  capa- 
ble of  thought  1  or,  with  Diderot,  find  no  diiference  between 
man  and  a  dog  but  the  clothes  ("Vie  de  S^n^que") — is, 
emancipation  from  all  moral  tie,  and  contempt  for  all  exist- 
ing institutions.  Their  disciples  fill  the  galleys  in  France, 
and  cause  our  own  Botany  Bay  to  present  all  the  agree- 
able varieties  of  a  philosophical  hortus  siccus.  But  Ireland 
has  produced  a  grander  specimen  of  philosophy,  exemplified 
in  the  calm  composure,  dignified  tranquillity,  and  instructive 
self-possession,  with  which  death  may  be  encountered  after 
a  life  of  usefulness.  For  the  benefit  of  the  French,  I  have 
taken  some  pains  to  initiate  them,  through  the  medium  of  a 
translation,  into  the  workings  of  an  Irish  mind  unfettered 
by  conscientious  scruples  on  the  tl^reshold  of  eternity. 


C^e  3@,eatJ)  of  giocratrS. 

By  the  Rev.  So6t,  Burrowes,  Dean  of 
St.  FihSar's  Cat/iedral,  Cork. 

The  night  before  Larry  was  stretched. 
The  boys  they  all. paid  him  a  visit ; 
A  bit  in  their  sacks,  too,  they  fetched — 
They  sweated  their  duds  till  they. 
liz  it  ;  . 
For  Larry  was  always  th^  lad, 
Wheil  a  friend  was  condemned  to 
tie  squeezer, 
But  he'd  pawn  all  the  togs  that  he  had, 
Just  to  help  the  poor  boy  to  a 
sneezer, 
And  moisten  his  gob  'fore  he  died. 

"Pen  my  conscience,  dear  Larry," 
says  I, 
"  I'm  sorry  to  see  you  in  trouble, 
And  yoiir  lue's  cheerful  noggin  run 
dry, 
And  yourself  going  o£f  like  its  bub- 
ble 1" 
"  Hould  your  tongue  in  that  matter," 
says  he ; 
"Per  the  neckcloth  I  don't  care  a 
button. 
And  by  this  time  to-morrow  you'll  see 
Xour  Larry  will  be  dead  as  mutton  ; 
AH  for  what  ?  'kase  his  courage 
was  goodi" 


Ha  jHort  tit  ^ocrate. 

Par  VAhhe  deProut,  CureduMont- 
aux-Cressons, pres  de  Cork. 

A  la  veille  d'etre  pendu, 

Notr'Lajirent  re^ut  ,dans  son 

gtte,      _     ,    ;  ■     . 

Honn^ur  qui  lui  ^tait  bien  dA, 
De  nombreux  amis  la  visite ; 

Car  chaquascaTait  que  Laurent 
A  son  tour  irendrait  la  pareille, 

Chapeau  montre, .  et  veste  en- 


Pour  que  I'ami  put  boire  bou- 
teille, 
M  faire,  h.  gosier  sec,  le  saut. 

"  Helas,  notre  gar9on !"  lui  dis-je» 
"  Coinbien  je  regrette  ton  sort ! 
Te  voilVfleur,  que  sur  sa  tlge 

Moissonne  la  cruelle  moH  !"— 
«Au  diable,"   dit-il,   "le  roi 
G-eorge ! 
^a  me  fait  la  valeur  d'un  bou- 
ton  ; 
Devant  le  bouoher  qui  m'egorg^ 
Je  serai  comme  un  doui  mou« 
ton, 
Et  saurai  montrer  du  courage  I" 


2G8 


TATHEE  PEOTTT  S   EELIQTJES. 


The  boys  they  came  crowding  in  fast ; 
They  drew  their  stools  close  round 
about  him, 
gii    glims    round    his    coffin    they 


He  couldn't  be  well  waked  without 

'em. 
I  axed  if  he  was  fit  to  die, 

Without  having  duly  repented  ? 
Says  Larry,  "  That's  all  ia  my  eye, 
And  aU  by  the  clargy  invented. 
To  make  a  fat  bit  for  themselves." 


Des  amis  Mjh,  la  oohorte 

Bemplissait  son  etroit  r^duit ; 
"  Six  ohandelles,  ho  !  qu'on  ap- 
porte, 
Donnons  du  lustre  k  cette  nuit ! 
Alors  je  oherchai  k  connaitre 
S'iL  s'etait  dumeut  repenti? 
"  Bah !  c'est  les  fourberies  des 

pr^tres  j 
Les  gredins,  ils  en  out  menti, 
Et  leurs  contes  d'enfer  sont 
faux !" 


Then  the  cards  being  called  for,  they 
played. 
Tin   Larry  found   one   of  them 
cheated ; 
Quick  he  made  a  hard  rap  at  hishead — 

The  lad  being  easily  heated. 
"  So  ye  chates  me  bekase  I'm  iu  grief ! 
0  !  is  that,  by  the  Holy,  the  rason  ? 
Soon  I'U  give  you  to  know,  you  d — d 
thief! 
That  you're  cracking  your  jokes  out 
of  eason. 
And  scuttle  your  nob  with  my 
fist." 


L'on  demande  les  cartes.   Au  jeu 
Laurent  voit   un  larron    qui 
triche ; 
D'honneur  tout  rempli,  U  prend 
feu, 
Et  d  un  bon  coup  de  poign 
I'affiche. 
"  Ha,  coquin !  de  mon  dernier 
jcur 
Tu  croyais  profiter,  peut-^tre  j 
Tu  OSes  me  jouer  ce  tour  ! 
Prends  9a  pour  ta  peine,  vil 
traitre ! 
Et  apprends  h,  te  bien  con- 
duire." 


Then  in  came  the  priest  with  his  book. 

He  spoke  him  so  smooth  and  so 

civE; 

Larry  tipped  him  a  Elmainham  look. 

And  pitched  his  big  wig  to  the  divil. 

Then  raising  a  httle  his  head. 

To  get  a  sweep  drop  of  the  bottle, 
And  pitiful  sighing  he  said, 

"  O !  the  hemp  wiU.  be  soon  round 
my  throttle, 
And  choke  my  poor  windpipe  to 
death!" 


Quand  nous    e<imes  cess^   nos 
^bats, 
Laurent,  en  ce  triste  repaire 
Pour  le  disposer  au  tr^pas, 

Voitentrer  Monsieur  leVicaire. 
Apr^s  im  sinistre  regard, 

Le  front  de  sa  maia  il  se  frotte, 

Disant  tout  haut,  "Venez  plus 

tard  !" 

Et  tout  has,  "  Tilain'  colotte !" 

Puis  sou  verre  il  vida  deux 

fois. 


So  mournful  these  last  words  he  spoke,  Lors  il  park  de  I'^chafaud, 

We  all  vented  our  tears  in  a  shower ;  Et  de  sa  derniere  cravate ; 

For   my  part,  I  thought   my  heart  Grands  dieux  !  que  9a  ] 

broke  beau 

To  see  him  cut  down  like  a  flower !  De  la  voir  mourir  en  Socrate ! 


THE    SONGS    OE  TEANCE;  269 

On  his  travels  we  watched  him  next  Le  trajet  en  ehantant  il  fit — 

day,  La  chanson  point  ne  fut  un 

O,  the  hangman  I  thought  I  could  pseaume ; 

kill  him !  Mais  palit  un  peu  quand  il  vit 

Not  one  word  did  our  poor  Larry  say,  La  statue  du  Roy  GkiiUaume — 

Nor  changed  till  he  came  to  "King  Les  pendards  n'aiment  pas 

William:"  ceroi! 
Och,  my  dear!  then  his  colour 
turned  white ! 

When  he  came  to  the  nubbling  chit,  Quand  fut  au  bout  de  son  voyage, 

He  was  tucked  up  so  neat  and  so  Le  gibet  fut  pr^t  en  un  clin  : 

pretty;  Mourant  il  touma  le  visage 

The  rambler  jugged  off  from  his  feet,  Vers  la  bonne  ville  de  Dublin. 

And  he  died  with  his  face  to  the  city.  H  dausa  la  carmagnole. 

He  kicked  too,  but  that  was  all  pride,  Et  mourut  comme  fit  Mal- 

For  soon  you  might  see  'twas  all  brouck ; 

over ;  Puis  nous  enterr&mes  le  dr61e 

And  as  soon  as  the  noose  was  untied,  Au  cimetifere  de  Donnybrook. 

Then  at  darkey  we  waked  him  in  Quesonamey  soitenrepos! 
clover. 
And  sent  him  to  take  a  ground- 
sweat. 

There  has  been  an  attempt  by  Victor  Hugo  to  embody 
into  a  book  the  principles  of  Stoic  philosophy,  which  Larry 
herein,  propounds  to  his  associates ;  and  the  French  poet 
has  spun  out  into  the  shape  of  a  long  yarn,  called  "  Le 
dernier  Jour  d'un  Condamnd,"  what  my  friend  Dean  Bur- 
rowes  had  so  ably  condensed  in  his  immortal  ballad.  But 
I  suspect  that  Addison's  tragedy  of  "  Cato"  furnished  the 
original  hint,  in  the  sublime  soUloquy'  about  suicide — 

"  It  must  be  so !  Plato,  thou  reasonest  well  j" 

unless  we  trace  the  matter  as  far  back  as  Hamlet's  conver- 
sation with  the  grave-digger. 

The  care  and  attention  with  which  "  the  boys"  paid  the 
last  funeral  honours  to  the  illustrious  dead,  anxious  to  tes- 
tify their  adhesion  to  the  doctrines  of  the  defunct  philo- 
sopher by  a  glorious  "  wake,"  remind  me  of  the  pomp  and 
ceremony  with  which  the  sans  culottes  of  Paris  conveyed 
the  carcass  of  Voltaire  and  the  ashes  of  Jean  Jacques  to  the 
iPanth^on  in  1794.  The  bones  of  the  cut-throat  Marat  were 
subsequently  added  to  the  relics  therein  gathered ;  and  an 


270  FATHEE  PEOOT'S   EELIQUES. 

inscription   bitterly  ironical  blazed  on  the  front  of  the 
temple's  gorgeous  portico — 

"  Aux  grands  hommes  la  patrie  reoonnaissante !" 

The  "  Confessions"  of  Eousseau  had  stamped  him  a  vaga- 
bond ;  the  "  Pucelle"  of  Voltaire,  by  combining  an  outrage . 
on  morals  with  a  sneer  at  the  most  exalted  instance  ,of  ro- 
mantic patriotism  on  record  in  his  own  or  any  other  country, 
had  eminently  entitled  the  writer  to  be  "  waked"  by  the 
snost  ferocious  ru£B.ans  that  ever  rose  from  the  .kennel  to 
trample  on  all  the  decencies  of  life,  and  riot  in  all  the  beati- 
tude of  democracy.  But  when  I  denounce  their  doings  of 
1793,  there  was  a  man  in  those  days  who  deserved  to  Uve  in 
better  times  ;  tho'  carried  away  by  the  frenzy  of  the  season 
(for  "madness  ruled  the  hour"),  he  voted  for  the  death  of 
Louis  XVI.  That  man  was  the  painter  David,  then  a 
member  of  the  Convention ;  subsequently  the  imperial  ar- 
tist, whose  glorious  picturings  of  "  The  Passage  of  the  Alps 
by  Bonaparte,"  of  "The  Spartans  at  Thermopylae,"  and 
"  The  Emperor  in  his  Coronation  Eobes,"  shed  such  radiance 
on  his  native  land.  The  Bourbons  had  the  bad  taste  not 
only  to  enforce  the  act  of  proscription  in  his  case  while  he 
lived,  but  to  prohibit  his  dead  body  from  being  interred  in 
the  French  territory.  His  tomb  is  in  Brussels ;  but  his 
paintings  form  the  ornament  of  Louvre  and  Luxemburg ; 
whUe  fortunate  enough  to  be  sung  by  Beranger. 

Ec  Condot  tte  iia&tU, 

Peintre  de  I'Empereur,  ex-Membre  de  la  Convention. 
AlE— "  De  Roland." 
"NonI  iion[I  vous  ne  passerez  pas  1"  "Nonl  nont  vousnepasserezpasl" 

Grie  un  soldat  sur  la  frontl&re,  Kedit  plus  bas  la  sentinelle. — 

A  ceux  qui  de  David,  h^las  I  "  Le  peintre  de  L^onidas 

Rapportaient  chez  nous  la  pouBsi&re.  Dans  la  liberty  n'a  vu  qn'elle ; 

"  Soldat/'  disent-ils  dans  leuT  deutl,  On  lui  dut  le  noble  appareil 

"  Proscrit-on  aussi  sa  m^moire  ?  Des  jours  de  joie  et  d'esp^rancei 

Qnoi,  vous  repoussez  son  cercueil  I  0&  les  beaux  arts  k  leur  reretl 

Et  vous  h^ritez  de  sa  gloire !"  F6taient  le  r^veil  de  la  France." 

*NonI  non!  vousnepasserezpasl"  "NonI  non!  vous  ne  passerez  pas  ]" 
Dlt  le  BOldat  avec  furie. —  Di  le  soldat ;  "  c'est  ma  coosigne.** 

"  Soldat,  ses  yeux  jusqu'au  tr^pas  "  Du  plus  grand  de  tons  les  soldats 
So  sont  tourn^s  vers  la  patrie ;  11  fut  le  peintre  le  plus  digue 

II  en  soutenait  la  splendeur  A  Faspect  de  Taigle  si  fier, 

Du  fond  d'uii  exil  qui  I'honore :  Plein  d'Hom6re,  et  I'&me  exalt^e, 

C'est  par  lui  que  notre  grandeuv  David  crut  peindre  Jupiter— 

Sur  la  toile  respire  encore,"  H^las  I  U  peignlt  Fromdthdei" 


THE    SONGS  OF   rEANCE.                                271 

"  Non  I  non  I  vons  ne  passerez  pas  1"  "  Non  I  non !  toiib  nc  passerez  pas  I" 

Dit  le  soldat,  devenu  triste. —  Dit  la  sentinelle  attendrie. — 

"  Le  h^ros  apr^s  cent  combats  "  Eh  bien,  retournons  sur  nos  pas  I 

Succorabe,  et  Ton  proBCrit  Vartiste !  Adieu,  teiTe  qu'il  k  ch6rie  1 

Chez  r^tranger  la  mort  I'atteint —  Les  arts  ont  perdu  le  flambean 

Qu'il  dut  trouver  sa  coupe  amdre  I  Qui  fit  pSlir  T^clat  de  Home  I 

Anx  cendres  d'un  g^nie  ^teint,  Aliens  mendier  un  tombeau 

France  1  tends  les  bras  d'uue  mire."  Four  les  restes  de  ce  grand  homme  1" 


CfiJ  (BbStquUi  of  JBa&iK  tfie  Painter, 

Ex-Member  of  the  National  Convention, 

The  pass  is  barred !   "  I'aE  back !"  cries  the  guard ;  "  cross  not  the 

Erenoh  frontier !" 
As  with  solemn  tread,  of  the  exiled  dead  the  funeral  drew  near. 
"Sot  the  sentinelle  hath  noticed  well  what  no  plume,  no  pall  can  hide, 
That  yon  hearse  contains  the  sad  remains  of  a  banished  regicide ! 
"  But  pity  take,  for  his  glory's  sake,"  said  his  children  to  the  guard ; 
"  Let  his  noble  art  plead  on  his  part — ^let  a  grave  be  his  reward ! 
Ib^ance  knew  his  name  in  her  hour  of  fame,  nor  the  aid  of  his  pencil 

scorned ; 
let  his  passport  be  the  memory  of  the  triumphs  he  adorned !" 

"  That  corpBO  can't  pass !  'tis  my  duty,  alas !"  said  the  frontier  sen- 
tinelle.— 
"  But  pity  take,  for  his  country's  sake,  and  his  clay  do  not  repel 
Prom  its  kindred  earth,  from  the  land  of  his  birth!"  cried  the  mourners, 

in  their  turn. 
"  Oh  1  give  to  France  the  inheritance  of  her  painter's  fimeral  urn  : 
His  pencil  traced,  on  the  Alpine  waste  of  the  pathless  Mont  Bernard, 
Napoleon's  course  on  the  snow-white  horse ! — let  a  grave  be  his  reward ! 
Por  he  loyed  this  land — ay,  his  dying  hand  to  paint  her  fame  he'd  lend 

her : 
Let  his  passport  be  the  memory  of  his  native  country's  splendour !" 

"Te  cannot  pass,"  said  the  guard,    "alas!  (for  tears  bedimmed  his 


Though  Prance  may  count  to  pass  that  mount  a  glorious  eiiterprise." — 
"Then  pity  take,  for  fair  Freedom's  sake,"  cried  the  mourners  once 

again : 
"  Her  favourite  was  Leonidas,  with  his  band  of  Spartan  men  ; 
Did  not  his  art  to  them  impart  life's  breath,  that  France  might  see 
What  a  patriot  few  in  the  gap  could  do  at  old  Thermopylse  ? 
Oft  by  that  sight  for  the  coming  fight  was  the  youthftil  bosom  fired : 
Let  his  passport  be  the  memory  of  the  valour  he  inspired !" 

"  Te  cannot  pass." — "  Soldier,  alas !  a  dismal  boon  we  crave — 
Say,  is  there  not  some  lonely  spot  where  his  friends  may  dig  a  grave  ? 
Oh !  pity  take,  for  that  hero's  sake  whom  he  gloried  to  portray 
With  crown  and  palm  at  Notre  Dame  on  his  coronation-day." 


272  PATHEE  peottt's  eeliqfes. 

Amid  tliat  band  the  withered  hand  of  an  aged  pontiff  rose, 
And  blessing  shed  on  the  conqueror's  head,  forgiving  his  own  woes : — 
He  drew  that  scene — nor  dreamt,  I  ween,  that  yet  a  little  while, 
And  the  hero's  doom  would  be  a  tomb  far  off  in  a  lonely  isle ! 

"  I  am  charged,  alas  !  not  to  let  you  pass,"  said  the  sorrowing  seutinelle ; 
"  Hie  destiny  must  also  be  a  foreign  grave !" — "  'Tis  well ! — 
Hard  is  our  fate  to  supphcate  for  his  bones  a  place  of  rest, 
And  to  bear  away  his  banished  clay  from  the  land  that  he  loved  best. 
But  let  us  hence ! — Sad  recompense  for  the  lustre  that  he  cast, 
Blending  the  rays  of  modem  days  with  the  glories  of  the  past  I 
Our  sons  will  read  with  shame  this  deed  (unless  my  mind  doth  err)  j 
And  a  future  age  make  pilgrimage  to  the  painter's  sepulchre!" 

How  poor  and  pitiful  to  visit  on  his  coffin  the  error  of  his 
political  career !  There  is  a  sympathy  in  our  nature  that 
rises  in  arms  against  any  act  of  persecution  that  vents  itself 
upon  the  dead ;  and  genius  in  exile  has  ever  excited  interest 
and  compassion.  This  feeling  has  been  admirably  worked 
upon  by  the  author  of  the  "  Meditations  Po^tiques,"  a  poet 
every  way  inferior  to  B^ranger,  but  who,  in  the  following 
effusion,  has  surpassed  himself,  and 'given  utterance  to  some 
of  the  noblest  lines  in  the  French  language. 

}La  @Iotre. 

A  un  Pokte  Portugais  exile,  par  Alphonse  de  la  Marline. 

Q-enfoeux,  favoris  des  filles  de  m^moire ! 
Deux  sentiers  differents  devant  vous  vont  s'ouvrir— 
L'un  conduit  au  bonheur,  1' autre  mene  a  la  gloire : 
Mortels !  il  faut  choisir. 

Ton  sort,  O  Manoel !  suivit  la  loi  commune ! 
la  muse  t'enivra  de  pr^coces  faveurs ; 
Tes  jours  furent  tissus  de  gloire  et  d'iufortune, 
Et  tu  verses  des  pleurs  ! 

Eougis,  plut6t  rougis,  d'envier  au  vulgaire, 
Le  sterile  repos  dont  son  coeur  est  jaloux ; 
Les  dieux  ont  fait  poiu:  lui  tons  les  biens  de  la  terre, 
Mais  la  lyre  est  a  nous. 

Les  siecles  sont  k  toi,  le  monde  est  ta  patrie ; 
Quand  nous  ne  sommes  plus,  notre  ombre  a  des  autele, 
Oil  le  juste  avenir  prepare  k  ton  genie 
Des  honneurs  immortels. 


THE   SONGS   OF  TEAIfCE.  273 

Oui,  la  gloire  t'attend !  mais  arrfete  et  oontemple 
A  quel  prix  on  pen^tre  en  ces  parvis  Baer&  j 
Voifl,  l'Infortune,aBsise  a  la  porte  du  temple, 
!En  garde  les  degr^s, 

Ici  o'est  ee  vieillard  que  I'ingrate  lonie 
A  yu  de  mers  en  mers  promener  ses  malheurs  ; 
Aveugle,  il  mendiait,  au  prix  de  son  genie, 
Vn  pain  mouiUe  de  pleura. 

JA  le  Tasse,  brdle  d'une  flamme  fatale, 
Bxpiant  dans  les  fere  sa  gloire  et  son  amour, 
Quand  il  va  reoueillir  la  palme  triomphale. 
Descend  au  noir  s^jour. 

Par-tout  des  mallieureux,  des  proscrits,  des  yictimes, 
Imttant  contre  le  sort,  ou  contre  les  bourreaux  s 
On  dirait  que  le  Ciel  aux  cceurs  plus  magnanimes 
Mesure  plus  de  maux. 

Impose  done  silence  aux  plaintes  de  ta  lyre — 
Des  cceurs  n^s  sans  vertu  I'infortune  est  I'^cueil  j 
Mais  toi,  roi  detr6n€,  que  ton  malheur  t'inspire 
TJn  gSnerfeux  orgueil. 

Que  t'importe,  apres  tout,  que  cet  ordre  barbare 
T'enchaine  loin  des  bords  qui  fin-ent  ton  berceau  ? 
Que  t'importe  en  quel  lieu  le  destin  te  prepare 
TJn  glorieux  tombeau  ? 

Ni  I'exU  ni  le  fer  de  ces  tyrans  du  Tage 
N'enchadneront  ta  gloire  aux  bords  ou  tu  mourras  : 
Lisbonne  la  reclame,  et  voili  I'beritage 
Que  tu  lui  laisseras. 

Ceux  qui  I'ont  meconnu  pleureront  le  grand  honune : 
Athene  a  des  proscrits  ouvre  son  Pantheon  j 
Coriolan  expire,  et  les  enfans  de  Bome 
Beyeu^quent  son  nom. 

Aux  rivages  des  morts  avant  que  de  desceudre, 
Ovide  leve  au  eiel  ses  suppliantes  mains : 
Aux  Sarmates  barbares  U  a  legue  sa  cendre, 
S:t  ea  gloire  aux  Bomaius. 


274  TATHEE  PEOn'S   EELIQTJES. 


Con^iolatton. 

Addressed  by  Lamartme  to  his  friend  and  iroiher-poei,  Manoi'l,  ianishtd 
from  Portugal. 

If  your  bosom  beats  high,  if  your  pulse  quieter  grows, 
When  in  visions  ye  fancy  the  wreath  of  the  Muse, 
There's  the  path  to  renown — there's  the  path  to  repose— 
Te  must  choose !  ye  must  choose ! 

Manoel,  thus  the  destiny  rules  thy  career, 
And  thy  life's  web  is  woven  with  glory  and  woe ; 
Thou  wert  nursed  on  the  lap  of  the  Muse,  and  thy  tear 
Shall  unceasingly  flow. 

O,  my  friend !  do  not  envy  the  vulgar  their  joys, 
Nor  the  pleasures  to  which  their  low  nature  is  prone  { 
For  a  nobler  ambition  our  leisure  employs — 
Oh,  the  lyre  is  our  own ! 

And  the  future  is  ours  !  for  in  ages  to  come. 
The  admirers  of  genius  an  altar  will  raise 
To  the  poet ;  and  Fame,  till  her  trumpet  is  dumb, 
Will  re-echo  our  praise. 

Poet !  Glory  awaits  thee ;  her  temple  is  thine ; 
But  there's  one  who  keeps  vigil,  if  entrance  you  claim 
'Tis  MiSFOBTUiTE !  she  sits  in  the  porch  of  the  shrine, 
The  pale  portress  of  Fame ! 

Saw  not  Greece  an  old  man,  like  a  pilgrim  arrayed. 
With  his  tale  of  old  Troy,  and  a  staff  in  his  hand, 
Beg  his  bread  at  the  door  of  each  hut,  as  he  strayed 
Through  his  own  classic  land  p 

And  because  he  had  loved,  though  unwisely,  yet  weUj 
Mark  what  was  the  boon  by  bright  beauty  bestowed — 
Blush,  Italy,  blush !  for  yon  maniac's  cell 
It  was  Tasso's  abode. 

Hand  in  hand  Woe  and  Genius  must  walk  here  below, 
And  the  chalice  of  bitterness,  mixed  for  mankind. 
Must  be  quaffed  by  us  all ;  but  its  waters  o'erflow 
For  the  noble  of  mind. 

Then  the  heave  of  thy  heart's  indignation  keep  down  ( 
Be  the  voice  of  lament  never  wrung  from  thy  pride  j 
Leave  to  others  the  weakness  of  grief;  take  renown 
With  endurance  allied. 


THE    SONGS   OP   FEAWCE.  275 

"Let  them  banish  far  off  and  proscribe  (for  they  can) 
Saddened  Portugal's  son  from  his  dear  native  plains ; 
But  no  tyrant  can  place  the  free  soul  under  ban, 
Or  the  spirit  in  chains. 

No  !  the  frenzy  of  faction,  though  hateful,  though  strong, 
!Prom  the  banks  of  the  Tagus  can't  banish  thy  fame  : 
Still  the  halls  of  old  Lisbon  shall  ring  with  thy  song 
And  resound  with  thy  name. 

"When  Dante's  attainder  his  townsmen  repealed— 
When  the  sons  stamped  the  deed  of  their  sires  with  abhorrence, 
They  summoned  reluctant  Ravenna  to  yield 
Back  his  fame  to  his  Florence. 

And  with  both  hands  uplifted  Love's  bard  ere  he  breathed 
His  last  sigh,  far  away  from  his  kindred  and  home  : 
To  the  Scythians  his  ashes  hath  left,  but  bequeathed 
AU  his  glory  to  Rome. 

K"ever  does  poetry  assume  a  loftier  tone  than  -when  it  be- 
comes the  vehicle  of  calm  philosophy  or  generous  condo- 
lence with  human  sufferings  ;  but  when  honest  patriotism 
swells  the  note  and  exalts  the  melody,  the  effect  on  a  feeling 
heart  is  truly  delightful.     List  to  Stranger. 

Ee  'Ftolon  hvi^e. 

yiens^  mon  chien  I  riens,  ma  pauvre  bAte  I  Combien,  sous  I'ombre  ou  dans  la  grange. 
Mange,  malgr^  mon  desespoir.  Le  Dimanche  va  sembler  longl 

II  me  reste  un  gateau  de  fete-—  Dieu  b^nira-t-il  la  vendange 
Demaia  nous  aurons  du  pain  noirl  Qu'on  ouvrira  sans  violon  ? 

Les  ^traDgers,  vainqueura  par  ruse,  II  d&lassait  des  longs  ouvrages; 

M'ont  dit  hier,  dan§  ce  vallon  I  Dii  pauvre  ^tourdissait  les  maux  j 

*'  Fais-nous  danser  1"  moi  je  refuse ;  Des  graods,  des  imp6ts,  des  orages, 

L'un  d'eux  brise  mon  violon,  Lui  seiU  consolait  nos  hameaux. 

C'^tait  Torchestre  du  village  !  Les  haines  il  les  faisait  taire, 
Plus  de  f£tes^  plus  d'heureux  jonrs,  Les  pleu^s  amers  11  les  sechait : 

Qui  fera  danser  sous  I'omhrage  ?  Jamais  scejtre  n'a  fait  sur  terre 
Qui  r^yeiUera  les  amours  ?  Autant  de  bien  que  mon  archet. 

Si  corde  vlvement  press^e,  Mais  I'ennemi,  qu'il  faut  qu'on  chasse, 
D^s  I'aurore  d'un  jour  bien  donx,  M'a  rendu  le  courage  ais6; 

Anaon9ait  k  la  fiancee  Qu'en  mes  mains  un  mousquet  remplace 
Le  cortege  du  jeune  dpoux.  Le  violon  qu'il  a  bris^  I 

Aux  cures  qui  Tosaient  entendre  Tant  d'amis  dont  je  me  separe 
Noa  danses  causaient  moins  d'effroi ;  Diront  un  jour,  si  je  peris. 

La  gaiety  qu'il  &9avait  r^pandre  "  II  n'a  point  voulu  qu'un  barbare 
Eut  d^rld^  le  front  d'un  roi.  Dansftt  gaimenfc  sur  nos  debiis  1" 

S'il  preluda  dans  notre  gloire  Viens,  mon  cbieni  vienSj  ma  pauvre  bStel 

Aux  chants  qu'eUe  nous  Inspirait,  Mange,  mf^lgr^  mon  desespoir. 

Sur  lui  jamais  pouvais-je  croire,  U  me  reste  un  gateau  de  ffite— 

Que  r^tranger  se  vengerait?  Demaiu  nous  aurons  du  pain  noirl 

I  2 


276  FATHEE  PEOUt'S   EEHQrBS. 

CJc  dTrmci^  dftKUItr'd  ilatnentatton. 

My  poor  dog !  here  !  of  yesterday's  festival-cate 

Eat  the  poor  remains  in  sorrow ; 
For  when  next  a  repast  you  and  I  shall  ma^e. 
It  must  be  on  brown  bread,  which,  for  charity's  sake. 

Your  master  must  beg  or  borrow. 

Of  these  strangers  the  presence  and  pride  in  France 

la  to  me  a  perfect  riddle ; 
They  have  conquered,  no  doubt,  by  some  fatal  chance— 
For  they  haughtily  said,  "  You  must  play  us  a  dance !" 

I  refused — and  they  broke  my  fiddle ! 

Of  our  Tillage  the  orchestra,  crushed  at  one  stroke, 

By  that  savage  insult  perished ! 
'Twas  then  that  our  pride  felt  the  strangers'  yoke, 
When  the  insolent  hand  of  a  foreigner  broke 

What  our  hearts  so  dearly  cherished. 

For  whenever  our  youth  heard  it  merrily  sound, 

A  flood  of  gladness  shedding, 
At  the  dance  on  the  green  they  were  sure  to  be  found  j 
While  its  music  assembled  the  neighbours  around 

To  the  village  maiden's  wedding. 

By  the  priest  of  the  parish  its  note  was  pronounced 

To  be  innocent  "  after  service  ;" 
And  gaily  the  wooden-shoe'd  peasantry  bounced 
On  the  bright  Sabbath-day,  as  they  danced  undenounced 

By  pope,  or  bonze,  or  dervis. 

How  dismally  slow  will  the  Sabbath  now  run. 

Without  fiddle,  or  flute,  or  tabor — 
How  sad  is  the  harvest  when  music  there's  none — 
&0W  sad  is  the  vintage  sana  fiddle  begun ! — 
Dismal  and  tuneless  labour ! 

In  that  fiddle  a  solace  for  grief  we  had  got ; 

'Twas  of  peace  the  best  preceptor ; 
For  its  sound  made  all  quarrels  subside  on  the  spot^ 
And  its  bow  went  much  farther  to  soothe  our  hard  lot 

Than  the  crosier  or  the  sceptre. 

But  a  truce  to  my  grief ! — for  an  insult  so  base 
A  new  pulse  in  my  heart  hath  awoken ! 

That  affront  I'll  revenge  on  their  insolent  race ; 

Gtird  a  sword  on  my  thigh — let  a  musket  replace 
The  fiddle  their  hJaud  has  broken. 


THE    SON&S   OF   rEAHCE. 


277 


My  friends,  if  I  fell,  my  old  corpse  in  the  crowd 

Of  slaughtered  martyrs  viewing, 
Shall  say,  while  they  wrap  my  cold  limbs  in  a  shroud, 
'Twas  not  his  faxilt  if  some  a  barbarian  allowed 

To  dance  in  our  country's  ruin !" 

It  -would  be  a  pity,  while  we  are  in  the  patriotic  strain  of 
sentiment,  to  allow  the  feelings  to  cool ;  so,  to  use  a  techni- 
5al  phrase,  we  shall  keep  the  steam  up,  by  flinging  into  the 
ilready  kindled  furnace  of  generous  emotions  a  truly  nati- 
jnal  baHad,  by  Casimir  Delavigne,  concerning  a  well-known 
mecdote  of  the  late  revolution,  July  1830. 

Ci)e  2iog  of  ti)t  C^m  Bapi. 

A  Ballad,  September  1831. 

With  gentle  tread,  with  uncover' d 
head. 
Pass  by  the  Louvre-gate, 
Where  buried  lie  the   "men  of 

JtTLT  !" 
And   flowers   are   flung  by   the 
passers-by, 
And  the  dog  howls  desolate. 


Et  Ci&tcn  au  Hoiibrt. 

Casimir  Delavigne. 

Passant!  que  ton  front  se  decouvre ! 

La  plus  d'un  brave  est  endormi ! 
Des  fleurs  pour  le  martyr  du  Louvre, 

TJn  peu  de  pain  pour  son  ami  ! 


D'etait  le  jour  de  la  bataiUe, 
n  s'elanca  sous  la  mitraiUe, 

Son  chien  suivit ; 
Qe  plomb  tous  deux  vint  les  attein- 

dre — 
Elst-ce  le  martyr  qu'il  faut  plaindre? 

Le  chien  survit. 

Mome,  vers  le  brave  il  se  penche, 
L'appeUe,  et  de  sa  t^te  blanche 

Le  caressant ; 
3ur  le  corps  de  son  frere  d'armes 
Laisse  couler  ses  grosses  larmes 

Avec  son  sang. 

g-ardien  du  terte  funeraire, 
Cful  plaisir  ne  peut  le  distraire 

De  son  ennui ; 
Et  fiiyant  la  main  qui  I'attire, 
A.veo  tristesse  il  semble  dire, 

"  Oe  n'est  pas  lui !" 

Q,uand  sur  ces  touffes  d'immortelles 
Brillent  d'bumides  ^tinceUes, 


That  dog  had  fought, 

In  the  fierce  onslaught 
Had  rushed  with  his  master  on  : 

And  both  fought  well; 

But  the  master  feE — 
And  behold  the  surviving  one ! 

By  his  lifeless  clay. 

Shaggy  and  grey. 
His  fellow-warrior  stood : 

Nor  moved  beyond, 

But  mingled,  fond. 
Big  tears  with  his  master's  blood 

Vigil  he  teeps 

By  those  green  heaps. 
That  tell  where  heroes  be  j 

No  passer-by 

Can  attract  his  eye, 
Tor  he  knows  "  it  is  not  he  !" 

At  the  dawn,  when  dew 
Wets  the  garlands  new 


278 


TATHEE  PEOirx's   EELIQITES. 


Au  pjint  du  jour, 
Son  ceil  se  ranime,  il  se  dresse 
Pour  que  son  maitre  le  caresse 

A  son  retour. 

Aux  Tents  des  nuits,  quand  la  cou- 

ronne 
Sur  la  croix  du  tombeau  frisonne, 

Perdant  I'espoir, 
II  veut  que  son  maitre  I'entende — 
II  gronde,  il  pleure,  et  lui  demande 

Ij'adieu  du  soir. 

Si  la  neige  avee  violence 

De  ses  flocons  couvre  en  silence 

Le  lit  de  mort, 
H  pouBse  un  cri  lugubre  et  tendre, 
On  s'y  couche  pour  le  d^fendre 

Des  vents  du  nord. 

Avant  de  fermer  la  paupiere, 
II  fait  pour  soulever  la  pierre 

TTu  vain  effort ; 
Puis  il  B6  dit,  comme  la  veille 
"  H  m'appelera  s'il  s'^veille" — 

Puis  il  s'endort. 

La  uuit  il  r4ve  barricades — 
Son  maitre  est  sous  la  fusillade, 

Couvert  de  sang  ; — 
n  I'entend  qui  siffle  dans  I'ombre, 
Se  l^ve,  et  saute  aprfes  son  ombre 

En  gemissant. 

C'est   ]k   qu'il  attend   d'heure   en 

heure, 
Qu'il  aime,  qu'il  souffre,  qu'il  pleure, 

Et  qu'il  mourra. 
Quel  fut  son  nom  ?     C'est  im  mys- 

t6re ; 
Jamais  la  voix  qui  lui  fat  chSre 

Ne  le  dira  1 

Passant!  que  ton  front  se  dloouvre ! 

L^  plus  d'un  brave  est  endormi ; 

Des    fleurs    pour   le   martyr    du 

Louvre, 
Un  peu  de  pain  pour  son  ami  ! 


That  are  hung  in  this  place  of 
mourning, 

He  will  start  to  meet 

The  coming  feet 
Of  HIM  whom  he  dreamt  returning. 

On  the  grave's  wood-cross 

When  the  ohaplets  toss. 
By  the  blasts  of  midnight  shaken, 

How  he  howleth  !  hark ! 

!From  that  dweUing  dark 
The  slain,  he  would  fain,  awaken. 

When  the  snow  comes  fast 

On  the  chilly  blast. 
Blanching  the  bleak  churchyard. 

With  limbs  outspread 

On  the  dismal  bed 
Of  his  liege,  he  still  keeps  guard. 

Oft  in  the  night, 

With  main  and  might, 
He  strives  to  raise  the  stone : 

Short  respite  takes — 

"  If  master  wakeS, 
He'U  call  me" — then  sleeps  on. 

Of  bayonet-bladps, 

Of  barricades, 
And  guns,  he  dreameth  most ; 

Starts  from  his  dream, 

And  then  would  seem 
To  eye  a  bleeding  ghost. 

He'U  linger  there 

In  sad  despair, 
And  die  on  his  master's  grave. 

His  name  ?  'Tis  known 

To  the  dead  alone — 
He's   the   dog  of  the   nameless 
brave ! 

&ive  a  tear  to  the  dead, 
And  give  some  bread 
To  the  dog  of  the  Louvre  gate  ! 
Where  buried  he  the  men  of  July, 
And  flowers    are   flung   by  the 
passers-by. 
And  the  dog  howls  desolate. 


THE    SON&S  OF  FBANOE.  279 

When  Diderot  wrote  that  celebrated  sentence,  that  he 
Baw  no  difference  between  himself  and  a  dog  but  the  clothes, 
he,  no  doubt,  imagined  he  had  conferred  a  compliment  on 
the  dumb  animal.  I  rather  suspect,  knowing  the  nature  of 
a  thorough-bred  TVenqh  philosopher,  that  the  balance  of 
dignity  inclines  the  other  way.  Certain  1  am,  that  any 
thing  like  honest,  manly,  or  affectionate  feeling  never  had 
ylace  in  the  breast  of  this  contributor  to  the  "Encyclop^die," 
and  writer  of  irreligious  and  indecent  romances. 

There  are  sermons  in  stones,  philosophy  in  a  fiddle,  and  a 
deep  undercurrent  of  ethical  musing  runs  often  beneath 
apparently  shallow  effusions.  Yet  I  fear  Beranger's  are  far 
from  being  sacred  songs  after  the  manner  of  Watts'  hymns 
or  Pompignan's  Poesies  Sacrdes  at  which  Voltaire  sneered. 
"  Sacrdes  eUes  sent  ear  personne  n'y  touche."  Of  this  class 
France  can  show  the  odes  of  Jean  Baptisle  Eousseau,  the 
chorus  hymns  in  Esther  by  Eacine,  and  the  old  version  of 
the  Psalms  with  which  Clement  Marot  comforted  his  brother 
Huguenots. 

The  Noels,  or  carols  for  Christmas  tide,  are  also  found  in 
the  French  provinces,  charming  in  thought  and  sentiment ; 
in  Brittany  especially  there  are  some  current  under  the 
name  of  Abelard  (who  was  a  born  Breton),  thfe  philosophic 
tone  of  which  bespeaks  a  scholastic  origin.  As  I  write  in 
December,  and  that  solemn  festivity  is  at  hand,  I  do  not 
hesitate  to  lay  before  my  reader  one  of  them.  Druidieal 
tradition  had  its  stronghold  in  Bretagne,  which  accounts  for 
Abelard's  choice  of  subject  in  the  following  noel. 

W^t  JHistletoe,  a  tpft  of  t||t  fltaben^Sorn. 

I.  And  a  rod  from  his  robe  he  drew — 

A  prophet  sat  by  the  Temple  gate,         '^^*=  ^  withered   bough  torn 

And  he  spake  each  passer  by —      _        i.i.°''?  *^?  i  .  ,    ., 

In  thrUhng   tone-with  word  of     ^T.}^  I        ,,7  ^^^^  'V^'Tj 
j5,  j.  But  the  branch  long  torn  show  d 

And  fire  in'his  rolHng  eye.  ^^  ,  ^  «\''^,<i  "«^  ^1°™ 

"  Pause  thee,  believing  Jew  !        Thathad  blossomed  there  anew. 

Nor  move  oL  step  leyond,  T^^lu^Ti  .i.     »,■  *i,    . 

Until  thy  heart  hath  ponder'd  And  the  bud  was  the  birth  ol 

ne  mystery  of  this  wand."  wOD. 


280 


PATHKE  PEOTJT'S  EEHQTJBS. 


n. 

A  priest  of  Egypt  sat  meanwhile 

TJnder  a  lofty  palm. 
And  gazing  on  hiB  native  Nile, 

As  in  a  mirror  calm, 
He  saw  a  lowly  Lotus  plant — 

Pale  orphan  of  the  flood. 
And  well  did  th'  aged  hierophant 

Mark  the  mysterious  bud  : 
For  he  fitly  thought,  as  he  saw  it 
float 

O'er  the  waste  of  waters  wUd, 
That  the  symbol  told  of  the  cradle 
boat 

Of  the  wondrous  Hebrew  child. 
Nor  was  that  bark-Kke  Lotus  dumb 

Of  a  mightier  infant  yet  to  come, 
Whose  graven  skiff  in  hieroglyph 

Marks  obelisk  and  catacomb. 

in. 

A  Greek  sat  on  Colonna's  eape. 

In  his  lofty  thoughts  alone, 
And  a  volume  lay  on  Plato's  lap, 

For  he  was  that  lonely  one. 
And  oft  as  the  sage  gazed  o'er  the 
page 

His  forehead  radiant  grew ; 
For  iuWisdom's  womb  of  the  Word 
to  come, 

The  vision  blest  his  view. 
He  broached   that   theme  in  the 
Academe, 

In  the  teachfiil  olive  grove ; 
And  a  chosen  few  that  secret  knew 

In  the  Porch's  dim  alcove. 

IV. 

A  SybU  sat  in  Cumse's  cave — 
'Twas  the  hour  of  in&nt  Eome — 

And  vigil  kept,  and  warning  gave 
Of  the  holy  one  to  come. 

'Twas  she  who  had  culled  the  hal- 
lowed branch, 


And  sat  at  the  silent  hehn 
When  iEneas,  sire  of  Bome,  would 
launch 
His  bark  o'er  Hades'  realm. 
And  now  she  poured  her  vestal  soul 
Through  many  a  bright  Hlmninell 
soroU ; 
By  priest  and  sage  of  an  after-age 
Conned  in  the  lofty  capitol. 

V. 

A  Druid  stood  iu  the  dark  oak  wood 

Of  a  distant  northern  land  j 
And  he  seemed  to  hold  a  sickle  of 
gold 
In,  the  grasp  of  his  withered 
hand; 
And  slowly  moved  around  the  girth 

Of  an  aged  oak,  to  see 
If  a  blessed  plant  of  wondrous  birth 

Had  clung  to  the  old  oak  tree. 
And  anon  he  knelt,  and  &om  his 
belt 
Unloosened  his  golden  blade, 
Then  rose  and  culled  the  Mistle- 
toe 
Under  the  woodland  shade. 


VI, 

O,  blessed  bough!   meet  emblem 
thou 

Of  all  dark  Egypt  knew. 
Of  all  foretold  to  the  wise  of  old, 

To  Eoman,  Greek,  and  Jew. , 
And  long  God  grant,  time-honoliecl 
plant. 

May  we  behold  thee  hung 
In  cottage  small,  as  in  baron's  hall. 

Banner  and  shield  among. 
Thus  fitly  rule  the  mirth  of  Yule 

Aloft  in  thy  place  of  pride ; 
StUL  usher  forth  in  each  land  of  the 
north 

The  solemn  Christmas  tide. 


Sucli  was  the.  imaginative  tteory  of  tlie  great  scholastic 
with  reference  to  symbolism  and  the  mistletoe.    The  dust 


THE    SONGtS   01'   FEANCB.  281 

of  the  schools  is  sometimes  diamond  dust,  and  fancy  is  often 
mixed  up  with  metaphysics.  That  Abelard's  orthodoxy  should 
be  damaged  by  his  fantastic  faculties  was  a  natural  result ; 
as  it  also  may  prove  in  the  case  of  a  modem  light  of  the 
GaUican  church,  likewise  a  native  of  Brittany,- Abb^  Lam- 
menais.  I  see  in  his  eloquent  "Essai  sur  V indifference  enReli- 
gion,"  the  germ  of  much  future  aberration,  and  predict  for 
him  a  career  like  that  of  the  Abbe  Eaynal,  whose  "  History 
of  European  Commerce  in  the  two  Indies,"  full  of  impas- 
sioned and  brilliant  passages,  is  as  replete  with  anti- social 
and  anti-christian  sentiment  as  any  contemporary  declama- 
tion of  D'Holbach  or  Diderot. 

What  though  the  pen  of  some  among  these  sophists  could 
occasionally  trace  eloquent  words  in  the  advocacy  of  their 
disastrous  theories  ? — what  care  I  for  the 


■"  verdant  spots  that  bloom 


Aiound  the  crater's  burning  lips, 
Sweetening  the  very  edge  of  doom," — 

if  the  result  be  an  eruption  of  all  the  evil  passions  of  man- 
kind to  desolate  the  fair  face  of  society. 

It  is  vdth  unaffected  sorrow  I  find  the  noble  faculties  of 
B&anger  devoted  now  and  then  to  similar  viUanies  ;  but  ia 
the  following  he  has  clothed  serene  philosophy  in  appro- 
priate diction. 

%t6  <&toi\t6  qm  fileiit.  Si^&ooting  gitars. 

"  Berger !  tu  dis  que  notre  ^toile   "  Shepherd !  they  say  that  a  star  pre- 
Begle  noB  jours,  et  briHe  aux  sides 

cieux  ?"  Over  Kfe  ?"— '"Tis  a  truth,my  son ! 

"Oui,  mon  enfant!  mais  de  son   Its  secrets  from  men  the  firmament 

voile  hides, 

Lanuitladerobeinosyeux." —       But  tells  to  some  favoured  one." — 

"Berger!  sur  cet  azur  tranquiUe   "  Shepherd!  they  say  that  a  link  un- 

De  lire  on  te  eroit  le  secret ;  broken 

Quelle  est  cette  ^toile  qui  file,  Connects  our  fate  with  some  favou- 

Qui  file,  file,  et  disparait  ?"  rite  star ; 

What   may  yon  shooting  light  be- 
token, 
Xhat  falls,  falls,  and  is  quenched 
afer?" 


282  FATHEE  PEOn'S   EELTQTOS. 

"  Mon  enfant,  im  mortel  expire !   "  The  death  of  a  mortal,  my  bod,  ■who 

Son  ftoile  tombe  a  I'instant ;  held 

Entre  amis  que  la  joie  inspire  In  his  banqueting-hall  high  revel ; 

Celui-ci  buvait  en  chantant.       And  his  music  was  sweet,  and  his  wioe 
Heurerac,  il  s'eudort  mimobile  excelled, 

Aupres  du  vin  qu'il  c^l^brait."       Life's  path  seemed  long  and  level : 
"  Encore  nne  etoile  qui  file,  No   sign   was   given,   no   word  was 

Qui  file,  file,  et  disparalt  f "  spoken, 

His  pleasure  death  comes  to  mar." 
"  But  what  does  yon  milder  light  be- 
token. 
That  falls,  falls,  and  is  quenched 
afar  ?" 

"  Mon  enfant !  qu'elle  est  pure   "  'Tis  the  knell  of  beauty ! — it  marls 
et  belle !  the  close 

CTestoelled'unobjetoharmant;        Of  a  pure  and  gentle  maiden  ; 
Eille  heureuse !  amante  fidele  !       And  her  cheek   was  warm  with  its 
On  I'aeoorde  au  plus  tendre  bridal  rose, 

amant ;  And  her  brow  with  its  bride-wreath 

Des  fleurs   ceignent   son    front  laden  : — 

nubile,  The  thousand  hopes  young  love  had 

Etdel'Hymenl'autelestpr^t."  woken 

"  Encore  une  etoile  qui  file,  Lie  crushed,  and  her  dream  is  past." 

Qui  file,  file,  et  disparidt  ?"        "  But  what  can  yon  rapid  light  be- 
token. 
That  falls,  falls,  and  is  quenched  so 
fast  ?" 

"  Mons  fils !  c'est  I'etoile  rapide   "  'Tis  the  emblem,  my  sou,  of  quick 
D'un  tres-grand  seigneur  nou-  decay  I 

veau-n^ ;  'Tis  a  rich  lord's  child  newly  horn : 

Le  berceau  qu'il  a  laiss^  vide         The  cradle  that  holds  his  inanimate 

D'or  et  de  pourpre  ^tait  om^  :  clay, 

Des  poisons  qu'un  flatteur  dis-        Gold,  purple,  and  silk  adorn ; 

tille,  The  panders  prepared  through  life  to 

C'etait  k  qui  le  uourrirait."  haunt  him 

"  Encore  \me  etoile  qui  file.  Must   seek  some   one  else  in  his 

Qui  file,  file,  et  disparalt  ?"  room." 

"  Look,  now !  what  means  yon  dismal 
phantom 
That   falls,  falls,  and   is   lost  in 
gloom  ?" 

"Mon   enfant,  quel  Eclair   si-  "There,  son!  I  see  the  guilty  thought 

nistre !  Of  a  haughty  statesman  fiul, 

C'ftait  I'astre  d'un  fevori,  Who  the  poor  man's  comfortt  sternly 

Qui  se  croyait  un  grand  ministre,  sought 

Quand  de  nos  maux  il  avait  ri.  To  plunder  or  curtail. 


THE   SONGS    OF   rEAJJCB. 


283 


Ceux  qui  servaient  ce  dieu  fragile 
Out  dejS,  cach^  son  portrait." 

"  Encore  une  etoQe  qui  file, 
Qui  file,  file,  et  dieparalt." 


His  former  sycophants  have  cursed 
Their  idol's  base  endeavour," 

"  But  vratoh  the  light  that  now  has 
burst, 
Falls,  falls,  and  is  quenohed  for 


"  Mon  fils,  quels  pleurs  sont  les 
ndtres ! 

D'un  riohe  nous  perdons  I'ap- 
pui : 
L' indigence  glane  chez  les  autres, 

Mais  eUe  moissonnait  chez  Im ! 
Ce  Boir  nieme,  sdr  d'un  asyle, 

A  son  toit  le  pauvre  acoourait." 
"  Encore  une  etoile  qui  file, 

Qui  file,  file,  et  diaparait  ?" 

"  C'est  ceUe  d'un  puissant  mo- 
narque ! 

Va,  mon  fils !  garde  ta  can- 
deur  J 
Et  que  ton  Etoile  ne  marque 

Par  I'eclat  ni  par  la  grandeur. 
Si  tu  brillais  sans  ^tre  utile, 

A  ton  dernier  jour  on  dirait, 
'  Ce  n'est  qu'une  Etoile  qui  file. 

Qui  file,  file,  et  disparait !'" 


"  What  a  loss,  O  my  son,  was  there ! 

Where  shall  himgernowseek  relief? 
The  poor,  who  are  gleaners  elsewhere, 

Could  reap  in  his  field  fall  sheaf! 
On  the  evening  he  died,  his  door 

Was    thronged   with    a    weeping 
crowd." — 
"Loot,  shepherd!  there's  onestarmore 

That  falls,  and  is  quenched  in  a 
cloud." 

"  'Tis  a  monarch's  star !   Do  thou  pre- 
serve 

Thy  innocence,  my  child ! 
If  or  from  thy  course  appointed  swerve, 

But  there  shine  calm  and  mild. 
Of  thy  star,  if  the  sterile  ray 

For  no  useful  purpose  shone, 
At  thy  death,  '  See  that  star,'  they'd 
say  J 

' It  falls !  falls !  is  past  and  gone !'" 


The  philosopliic  humour  of  the  next  ballad  is  not  in  so 
magnificent  a  vein ;  but  good  sense  and  excellent  wisdom  it 
most  assuredly  containeth,  being  a  commendatory  poem  on 
a  much-abused  and  unjustly  depreciated  branch  of  the 
feathered  family. 


aeg  (Bid  (1810). 

Bes  chansonniers  damoiseau^ 

J'abandonne  les  voies ; 
Quittant  bosquets  et  riseaux, 
Je  ohante  au  lieu  des  oiseaux — 
IJes  oies ! 

Bossignol,  en  vain  la  bas 
Ton  gosier  se  diploic ; 
Mslgri  tes  briUants  appas, 
En  brocha  tu  ne  vaux  pas 
TJue  oie  1 


a  Jpanegortc  on  &ttei  (1810). 

I  hate  to  sing  your  hactney'd  birds — 

So,  doves  and  swans,  a  truce ! 
Tour  nests  have  been  too  often  stirred; 
My  hero  shall  be — ^in  a  word — 
A  goose ! 

The  nightingale,  or  else  "  bulbul," 

By  Tommy  Moore  let  loose. 
Is  grown  intolerably  duU — 
/  from  the  the  feathered  nation  cull 
A  goose  1 


284 


FATHEE  PEOUT  8   EELIQTJES. 


Strasbourg  tire  vanity 
Be  ses  p&t£s  de  foie ; 

Cette  superbe  citfi 
Ne  doit  sa  prosp^rit^ 

Qu'aux  oies ! 


On  peut  faire  un  bon  repas 

D'ortolans,  de  lamproies — 
Mais  Paris  n'en  produit  pas  ; 
n  s'y  trouve  h  chaque  pas 
Des  oies  I 

les  Qreos,  d'uu  commun  aveu, 
S'emmyaient  devant  Xroie  j 
Pour  les  amuser  un  peu, 
tOysse  inventa  le  jeu 

De  I'oie. 

Sur  un  aigle,  au  vol  brutal, 

Jupiter  nous  foudroie : 
II  nous  ferait  morns  de  mal 
S'il  choiaissait  pour  cheval 
TJne  oie. 


Can  roasted  Philomel  a  liver 

Fit  for  a  pie  produce  ? 
Fat  pies  that  on  the  Bhine's  sweet 

river 
Fair  Strasburg  babes.    Pray  who's  the 
giver? 

A  goose ! 

An  ortolan  is  good  to  eat, 
A  partridge  is  of  use  ; 
But  they  are  Boarce — whereas  you  meet 
At  Paris,  ay,  in  every  street, 
A  goose ! 

When  tired  of  war  the  Greeks  became, 

They  pitched  Troy  to  the  deuce, 
Ulysses,  then,  was  not  to  blame 
For  teaching  them  the  noble  "  game 
Of  goose !" 

May  Jupiter  and  Buonaparte, 

Of  thunder  less  profuse. 
Suffer  their  eagles  to  depart. 
Encourage  peace,  and  take  to  heart 
A  goose ! 


Wisdom  openeth  her  moutli  in  parables;  so  Bferanger 
stigmatized  the  internal  administration  of  France  (1810)  in 
his  song  Le  Boi  d'  Yveiot.  The  oriental  fashion  of  convey- 
ing a  sober  truth  by  allegorical  narrative  is  occasionally  (and 
gracefully)  adopted  by  the  poets  of  France,  one  of  whom  has 
left  us  this  pretty  line,  containing  in  itself  the  precept  and 
the  exemplification : 

"  L'aJlegorie  habite  un  palais  diaphaue  !" 

Here  is  one  concerning  loye  and  his  arch-enemy  Time,  by 
Count  de  Segur. 

%e  %tmi  ct  rumour. 

A  voyager  passant  sa  vie, 

Certain  vieiUard,  nommfe  le  Tems, 
Pres  d'un  flenve  arrive,  et  s'eerie, 

"  Prenez  piti^  de  mes  vieux  aus ! 
Eh,  quoi !  sour  ees  bords  I'ou  m'oublie— 

Moi,  qui  compte  tons  les  instans  P 
Jeimes  bergeres  I  je  vous  prie 

Veuez,  venez,  passer  le  Terns  !" 


THE   SONGS   01'  rEANOB.  285 

De  Tautre  c6tl,  but  la  plage, 

Plus  d'une  fiUe  regardait, 
Et  vouMt  aider  son  passage 

Sur  une  barque  qu'  Amoiir  guidait ; 
Mais  I'une  d'elles,  bien  plus  sage, 

Leur  rep^tait  ces  mots  prudens— 
"  Ah,  souTent  on  a  fait  naufrage 

Bn  eherchant  ^  passer  le  Tema  !" 

Amour  gaiment  pousse  au  rivage — 

II  aborde  tout  pres  du  Terns ; 
II  lui  propose  le  voyage, 

L'embarque,  et  s'abandonne  aux  venta. 
Agitant  ses  rames  l^g^res, 

H  dit  et  redit  en  ses  chants — 
"  Tous  voyez,  jeunes  berg^res. 

Que  r  Amour  fait  passer  le  Terns  !" 

Mais  1' Amour  bient6t  se  lasse 

Ce  flit  la  toujours  son  defaut ; 
Le  Terns  prend  la  rame  k  sa  place, 

Et  dit,  "Eh  quoi  !  quitter  sit6t? 
Pauvre  enfant,  quelle  est  ta  foiblesse '. 

Tu  dors,  et  je  chante  a  men  tour 
Ce  vieui  refrain  de  la  sagesse, 

Le  Terns  fait  passer  1' Amour  I" 

Ctme  antr  ILobe. 

Old  Time  is  a  pilgrim — with  onward  coursa 

He  journeys  for  months,  for  years ; 
But  the  trav'ller  to-day  must  halt  perforce — 

Behold,  a  broad  river  appears ! 
"  Pass  me  over,"  Time  cried ;  "  O  !  tarry  not, 

For  I  count  each  hour  with  my  gla«s ; 
Te,  whose  skiff  is  moored  to  yon  pleasant  spot — i 

Toung  maidens,,  old  Time  come  pass !" 

Many  maids  saw  with  pity,  upon  the  bant, 

The  old  man  with  his  glass  in  grief  j 
Their  kindness,  he  said,  he  would  ever  thank, 

If  they'd  row  liim  across  in  their  skiff. 
While  some  wanted  Lote  to  unmoor  the  bark. 

One  wiser  in  thought  sublime : 
"  Ofb  shipwrecks  occur,"  was  the  maid's  remark, 

"  When  seeking  to  pass  old  Time  !" 

From  the  strand  the  small  skiff  Love  pushed  afloat- 
He  crossed  to  the  pilgrim's  side, 

And  taking  old  TnnE  in  his  well-trimmed  boat, 
Dipt  his  oars  in  the  flowing  tide. 


2S6  TATHEE  PEOrx'S   EELIQUES. 

Sweetly  he  sung  as  he  worked  at  the  oar, 

And  this  was  his  merry  song— 
"  You  see,  young  maidens  who  crowd  the  shore, 

How  with  LoTE  Time  passes  along  ?" 

But  soon  the  poor  boy  of  his  task  grew  tired. 

As  he  often  had  been  before ; 
And  faint  from  his  toil,  for  mercy  desired 

Father  Time  to  take  up  the  oar. 
In  his  turn  grown  tuneftd,  the  pilgrim  old 

With  the  paddles  resumed  the  lay ; 
But  he  changed  it  and  sung,  "  Young  maids,  behold 

How  with  Time  Love  passes  away !" 

1  close  this  paper  by  an  ode  on  the  subject  of  "time,"  by 
B,  certain.  Mr.  Thomas.  Its  author,  a  contemporary  of  the 
philosophic  gang  alluded  to  throughout,  was  frequently  the 
object  of  their  sarcasm,  because  he  kept  aloof  from  their 
coteries.  He  is  author  of  a  panegyric  on  Marcus  Aiirelius, 
once  the  talk  of  all  Paris,  now  forgotten.  These  are  the 
concluding  stanzas  of  an 

®Ue  au  €tmi.  (Btit  to  Cime. 

Sijederais  un  jour  pour  deyiles  If  my  mind's  independence  one  day 

richesses  I'm  to  sell, 

Vendre  ma  Hbert^  desoendre  a  If  with  Vice  in  her  pestilent  haunts 

des  bassesses —  I'm  to  dwell — 

Si  mon  coeur  par  mes  sens  devait  Then  in  mercy,  I  pray  thee,  0 

etre  amoUi —  Time  ! 

O  Terns,  je  te  dirais,  h&te  ma  der-    Ere  that  day  of  disgrace  and  dishc- 

niSre  heure,  nour  comes  on, 

H&te-toi  que  je  meure  :  Let  my  life  be  out  short!  —  better, 

J'aime  mieux  n'6tre  pas  que  de  better  be  gone 

yivre  aviU.  Than  Uve  here  on  the  wages  of 

crime! 

Mais  si  de  la  yertu  les  g6ni-  But  if  yet  I'm  to  kindle  a  flame  in  the 

reuses  flammes  soul 

Doivent  de  mes  ecrits  passer  en  Of  the  noble  and  free — if  my  voice  can 

quelques  S.mes —  console. 

Si  je  dois  d'un  ami  consoler  les  In  the  day  of  despondency,  some —    - 

malheurs —  If  I'm  destined  to  plead  in  the  poor 
S'il  est  des  maUieureui  dont  I'ob-  man's  defence — 

scure  indigence  If  my  writings  can  force  from  the  mir 
Languisse  sans  defense,  tional  sense 

Et  dont  ma  faible  main  doit  es-  AnenactmeMof  joy  for  hia  home  i* 

suyer  les  pleurs  : — 

*  Prout  alludes  to  O'OonneU's  conduct  on  the  Poor  Law  for  Ireland. 


THE    SOKGS  OF  FEANOE.                                287 

d  Tems  !  suspends  ton  vol !   re-  Tune !   retard  thy  departure !  and 

Bpeete  ma  jennesse  1  linger  awtole — 

Que  m&  m^re  long-tems,  t^moin  Let  my  "  songs"  still  awake  of  my 

de  ma  tendresse,  mother  the  smile — 

Be^oive  mes  tributs  de  respect  et  OfmyBisterthejoy,a8  she  sings. 

d'amour !  But,  O  Gioby  and  Vibtue  !  your 

Et  vous,    GiiorEK !   Vebttt  !    d^-  care  I  engage ; 

esses  immortelles,  When  I'm  old — ^when  my  head  shall 

Que  Tos  brillantes  aUes  be  silyered  with  age, 

Sur  mes  cheveux  blanohis  se  re-  Come  and  shelter  my  brow  with 

posent  uu  jour ! 


No.  X. 

THE  SONGS  OF  FEANOE. 

ON  WINE,  WAE,  WOMEN,  WOODEN  SHOES,  FHILOSOPHT, 
FEOGS,  AND  FEEE  TEADE. 

dTrom  tl)e  3Bxovit  Papers!. 

Chaptee  IV. — Peogs  and  Feee  Teadb. 

"  Cantano  gli  !Francesi — pagaranno  !" 

Cabdisaii  MAZABnr. 

"  They  sing  ?  tax  'em !"  PeotjI. 

"  EansB  yagantes  liberis  paludibus, 
Clamore  magno  regem  peti^runt  i  Jove,  . 

Qui  dissilutos  mores  vi  compeseeret."  '' 

PsiEDBi,  Fab.  2. 

England  for  fogs !  the  sister-isle  for  bogs ! 
Erance  is  the  land  for  liberty  and  frogs  ! 
Angels  may  weep  o'er  man's  fantastic  tricks ; 
But  Louis-Philippe  laughs  at  Charley  Dix. 
Erance  for  Eing  "  Loggy "  now  has  got  "  a  stork ;" 
See  Phsedrus — also  ^sop. 

(Signed)     O.  Yobkb. 

The  more  we  develop  these  MSS.,  and   the    deeper  we 
plunge  into  the  cavity  of  Prout's  wondrous  coffer,  the  fonder 


288  FATHEE  PEOTIT'S  EELIQTJXS. 

we  become  of  the  old  presbyter,  and  the  more  impressed 
nrith  the  variety  and  versatility  of  his  powers.  His  was  a 
tuneful  soul !  In  his  earthly  envelop  there  dwelt  a  hidden 
host  of  melodious  numbers  ;  he  was  a  walking  store-house  of 
harmony.  The  followers  of  Huss,  when  they  had  lost  in 
battle  their  commander  Zisca,  had  the  wit  to  strip  him  of 
his  hide  ;  out  of  which  (when  duly  tanned)  they  made  unto 
themselves  a  drum,  to  stimulate  by  its  magic  soxm.d  their 
reminiscences  of  so  much  martial  glory :  our  plan  would 
have  been  to  convert  the  epidermis  of  the  defunct  father 
into  that  engine  of  harmony  which,  among  Celtic  nations, 
is  known  by  the  name  of  the  "  bagpipe  ;"  and  thus  secure 
to  the  lovers  of  song  and  melody  an  invaluable  relic,  an  in- 
strument of  music  which  no  Cremona  fiddle  could  rival  in 
execution.  But  we  should  not  produce  it  on  vulgar  occa- 
sions :  the  ministerial  accession  of  the  Duke  (1835),  should 
alone  be  solemnised  by  a  blast  jfrom  this  musico-cutaneous 
phenomenon ;  aware  of  the  many  accidents  which  might 
otherwise  occur,  such  as,  in  the  narrative  of  an  Irish  wed- 
ding, has  been  recorded  by  the  poet, — 

"  Then  the  piper,  a  dacent  gossoon, 
Began  to  play  '  Eileen  Aroon ;' 
Until  an  arch  wag 
Cut  a  hole  in  his  bag. 
Which  alas  !  put  an  end  to  the  tune 

Too  soon ! 
The  music  blew  up  to  the  moon '." 

Lord  Byron,  who  had  the  good  taste  to  make  a  claret- 
cup  out  of  a  human  skidl,  would  no  doubt  highly  applaud 
our  idea  of  preserving  a  skinful  of  Prout's  immortal  essence 
in  the  form  of  such  an  iEoUan  bagpipe. 

In  our  last  chapter  we  have  given  his  opinions  on  the 
merit  of  the  leading  !Prench  philosophers — a  gang  of  theo- 
rists now  happily  swept  off  the  face  of  the  earth,  or  most 
miserably  supplanted  in  IVance  by  St.  Simonians  and  Boo- 
trinaires,  and  in  this  country  by  the  duller  and  more  plodding 
generation  of  "  Utilitarians."  To  Denis  Diderot  has  suc- 
ceeded Dionysius  Lardner,  both  toiUng  intermiuable  at  their 
cyclopaedias,  and,  like  wounded  snakes,  though  trampled  on 
by  all  who  tread  the  paths  of  science,  still  rampant  onwards 
in  the  dust  and  slime  of  elaborate  authorship.  Truly,  sinc^ 
the  days  of  the  great  St.  Denis,  who  walked  deliberately, 


THE    SOTTGS   OP  ITEAJfOE.  289 

with  imperturbable  composure,  bearing  his  head  in  his  as- 
tonished grasp,  from  Montmartre  to  the  fifth  milestone  on 
the  northern  road  out  of  Paris  ;  nay,  since  the  stUl  earlier 
epoch  of  the  Siciliaii  schoolmaster,  who  opened  a  "  univer- 
sity" at  Corinth,  omitting  Dionysius  of  Halicamassus,  and 
Dennis  the  critic  who  figures  in  the  "  Dimciad,"  never  has 
the  name  been  borne  with  greater  Mat  than  by  its  great  ' 
modern  proprietor.  His  theories,  and  those  of  Dr.  Bowring, 
are  glanced  at  in  the  follovraig  paper,  which  concludes  the 
Proutean  series  of  the  "  Songs  of  Prance." 

Par  be  it  from  us  to  imagine  that  either  of  these  learned 
doctors  will  turn  from  their  crude  speculations  and  listen  to 
the  voice  of  the  charmer,  charm  he  ever  so  wisely ;  we  know 
the  self-opinionated  tribe  too  well  to  fancy  such  a  consum- 
mation as  the  result  of  old  Prout's  strictures :  but,  since 
the  late  downfal  of  Whiggery,  we  can  aflford  to  laugh  at 
what  must  now  only  appeaj"  in  the  harmless  shape  of  a 
solemn  quiz.  We  would  no  more  quarrel  with  them  for 
hugging  their  cherished  doctrines,  than  we  would  find  fault 
with  the  Hussites  above  mentioned ;  who,  when  the  J  esuit 
Peter  Canisius  came  to  Prague  to  argue  them  into  concilia- 
tion, inscribed  on  their  banner  the  foHovraig  epigrammatic 
line : 

"  Tu  proeul  esto  '  Cauie,'  pro  nobis  excubat '  ajiseb  !"' 

The  term  "  Huss"  being,  from  the  peculiarity  of  its  guttural 
sound,  among^'Teuftonic  nations  iudicative  of  what  we  call  a 
goose. 

OLIVEE  TOEKE. 

Jan.  1st,  1835. 


Watergrasshill,  Jan.  1, 1832. 

It  is  with  nations  as  with  individuals :  the  greater  is  man's 
intercourse  with  his  fellow-man  in  the  interchange  of  social 
companionship,  tlie  more  enlightened  he  becomes  ;  and,  ia 
the  keen  encounter  of  wit,  loses  whatever  awkwardness  or 
indolence  of  mind  may  have  been  his  original  portion.  If 
the  aggregate  wisdom  of  any  country  could  be  for  a  mo- 

V 


2yO  PATHEB  PBOITt's   EELIQrES. 

ment  supposed  hermetically  sealed  from  the  interfusion  of 
foreign  notions,  rely  on  it  there  would  be  found  a  most 
lamentable  poverty  of  intellect  in  the  land,  a  sad  torpor  ia 
the  public  feelings,  and  a  woful  stagnation  in  the  delicate 
"fluid"  called  thought.  Peru,  Mexico,  and  China — the  two 
first  at  the  period  of  Montezuma  and  the  Incas,  the  last  in 
our  own  day — have  the  degree  of  mental  culture  which  may 
be  expected  from  a  collective  body  of  men,  either  studiously 
or  accidentally  sequestered  from  the  rest  of  the  species ;  I 
suspect,  the  original  stock  of  information  derived  from  the 
first  settlers  constituted  the  entire  intellectual  wealth  in 
these  two  secluded  sections  of  the  globe.  On  inquiry,  it 
will  perhaps  be  found,  that  Egypt  (which  has  on  all  sides 
been  admitted  to  have  been  our  great-grandmother  in  art, 
science,  and  literature)  was  evidently  but  tSe  dowager  widow 
of  antediluvian  Knowledge ;  and  that  the  numerous  progeny 
which  has  since  peopled  the  universe,  all  the  ofispring  of 
intermarriage  and  frequent  alliance,  bears  undoubted  marts 
and  features  of  a  common  origin.  The  literature  of  Grreece 
and  Eome  reflects  back  the  image  of  Hebrew  and  Eastern 
composition ;  the  Scandinavian  poets  are  not  without  traces 
of  affinity  to  their  Arabic  brethren  ;  the  inspiration  of  Irish 
melody  is  akin  to  that  of  Persian  song ;  and  the  very  diver- 
sity of  detail  only  strengthens  the  likeness  on  the  whole  : 

"  Pacies  non  omnibus  una. 
Nee  diversa  tamen,  quails  deeet  esse  soronim." 

Ovid. 

This  is  shown  by  the  Jesuit  Andrfes,  in  his  "  Storia  di  ogni 
Letteratura,"  Parma,  1782". 

St.  Chrysostom,  talking  of  the  link  which  connects  the 
Mosaic  writings  with  the  books  of  the  New  Testament,  and 
the  common  agreement  that  is  found  between  the  thoughts 
of  the  prophet  of  Mount  Carmel  and  those  of  the  sublime 
solitary  of  the  island  of  Patmos,  introduces  a  beautiful  me- 
taphor ;  as,  indeed,  he  generally  does,  when  he  wishes  to 
leave  any  striking  idea  impressed  on  his  auditory.  "  Chris- 
tianity," quoth  he,  "  struck  its  roots  in  the  books  of  the  ,01d 
Testament ;  it  blossomed  in  the  Gospels  of  i\&  New :" 
Ej|/^ai^»j  fj^iv  IV  Toig  ^i^Xioii  rm  wjop^jrwi/,  iSKaerriet  dt  tv  ro/j 
svayyiXXioi;  rm  aitodToKm, — Homil.  de  Nov,  et  Vet.  Test. 


THE    SONGS    OF  FEATrOE.  291 

To  apply  the  holy  bishop's  illustration,  I  would  say,  that 
taste  and  refinement  among  modern  writers  are  traceable  to 
a  growing  acquaintance  with  the  ancient  classics ;  an  inti- 
macy which,  though  not  possesspd  by  each  individual  member 
of  the  great  family  of  authors,  still  influences  the  whole, 
and  pervades  the  general  mass  of  our  literature.  A  certain 
antique  bon  ton  is  unconsciously  contracted  even  by  our 
female  contributors  to  the  common  fund  of  literary  enjoy- 
ment ;  and  I  could  mention  one  (L.  E.  L.)  whom  I  presume 
innocent  of  G-reek,  but  as  purely  Attic  in  style  as  if,  instead 
of  Cockney  diet,  she  had  fed  in  infancy  on  the  honey  of 
Mount  Hymettus. 

The  eloquent  French  lavryer,  De  Marchangy,  in  his 
"  Gaule  Poetique,"  attributes — I  know  not  how  justly — the 
first  rise  of  poetic  excellence,  in  Provence,  (where  taste  and 
scholarship  made  their  first  appearance  with  the  trouba- 
dours,) to  the  circumstance  of  MarseilLes  having  been  a 
Grreclan  colony ;  and  he  ascribes  the  readiness  with  which 
the  Provencal  genius  caught  the  flame,  and  kindled  it  on  the 
fragrant  hills  of  that  beautiful  coast  of  the  Mediterranean, 
to  a  certain  predisposition  in  the  blood  and  constitutional 
habit  of  the  people,  derived  from  so  illustrious  a  pedigree. 
'"Twas  a  glorious  day!"  exclaims  the  poetic  attorney-ge- 
neral,'going  back  in  spirit  to  the  epoch  of  that  immigration 
of  the  Phocians  iato  Gallia  Narbonensis — "  'twas  a  noble 
spectacle  to  see  those  sons  of  civilisation  and  commerce' land 
on  our  barbarous  but  picturesque  and  hospitable  shore !  to 
see  the  gallant  children  of  Attiea  shake  from  their  buskins 
on  our  territory  the  dust  of  the  hippodrome,  and  entwine  the 
myrtle  of  Gnidus  with  the  mistletoe  of  Gaul !  When  their 
fleet  anchored  in  our  gladdened  gulf  of  Provence,  when 
their  voices  uttered  sounds  of  cultivated  import,  when  the 
music  of  the  Lesbian  lute  and  Teian  lyre  came  on  the 
charmed  senses  of  our  rude  aneestors,  a  shout  of  welcome 
was  heard  from  our  hills ;  and  our  Druids  hailed  with  the 
hand  of  fellowship  the  priests  of  Jove  and  of  ApoUo.  Mar- 
seilles arose  to  the  sound  of  harmonious  intercourse,  and  to 
the  eternal  triumph  of  international  commingling !  Tou 
would  have  thought  that  a  floating  island  of  Greece,  that 
one  of  the  Cyclades,  or  Delos  the  wanderer  of  the  Archi- 
pelago, had  strayed  away  and  taken  root  upon  our  coast, 

u  2 


292  TATHEE  PEOrT  S   EBLIQTTES. 

crowned  with  its  temples,  filled  with,  its  inhabitants,  its 
sacred  groves,  its  arts,  it  laws,  its  perfume  of  refinement  in 
love,  and  its  spirit  of  freedom  !" 

"Free  trade"  in  all  the  emanations  of  intellect  has  ever 
had  a  purely  beneficial  effect,  blessing  him  who  gave  and  him 
who  received :  it  never  can  injure  a  nation  or  an  individual 
to  impart  knowledge,  or  exchange  ideas.  This  is  admitted. 
IVom  the  sun,  who  lights  up  the  planets  and  the  "  silver 
moon,"  to  the  Greenwich  pensioner,  whose  pipe  is  lit  at  the 
focus  of  a  neighbour's  calumet,  _^re,  And  flame,  &ni  brightness, 
are  of  their  nature  communicable,  vrithout  loss  or  diminution 
in  the  slightest  way  to  the  communicant.  So  it  is  with  miad, 
But  how  stands  the  case  with  matter  ?  are  the  same  princi- 
ples applicable,  under  existing  circumstances,  to  the  produc- 
tions of  manual  toil  and  the  distribution  of  employment 
through  the  different  trades  and  crafts  ?  Is  it  for  the  interest 
of  the  material  and  grosser  world,  who  eat,  drink,  are  clothed^ 
and  surrounded  with  household  necessities — who  are  con- 
demned to  look  for  support  through  the  troublesome  medium 
of  daily  labour — is  it  fit  or  judicious,  in  the  complicated  state 
of  the  social  frame  now  established  in  Europe,  to  lay  level 
all  the  barriers  which  climate,  boU,  situation,  and  industry, 
have  raised  for  the  protection  of  the  productive  classes  ia 
each  country ;  and,  by  the  light  of  the  new  aurora  borealis, 
which  has  arisen  on  our  school  of  political  economy,  to  con- 
found all  the  elements  of  actual  life,  and  try  back  on  all  the 
wisdom  of  antiquity  ?  As  sagacious  and  consistent  would  be 
a  proposal  to  abolish  the  quarantine  laws,  that  "  free  trade" 
might  be  enjoyed  by  the  plague ;  to  break  down  the  dykes 
of  Holland,  that  the  ocean  should  be  "free;"  to  abolish  all 
the  copyright  and  "  patent-laws,"  that  "  piracy"  may  be  free 
to  the  dull  and  the  uninventive ;  the  "  game-laws,"  that  aU 
may  shoot ;  "  tolls,"  that  all  may  go  where  they  list  unim- 
peded ;  "  rent,"  that  all  may  live  scot-free  ;  and,  finally,  the 
laws  of  property,  the  laws  of  marriage,  and  the  laws  of  God, 
which  are  onore  or  less  impediments  in  the  way  of  "  free 
trade." 

Fully  aware  that  the  advantages  of  rendering  each  nation 
dependent  on  foreign  supply  for  objects  of  prime  necessity, 
by  establishing  a  nicely  balanced  equipoise  in  the  commercial 
relations  of  every  spot  in  the  globe,  have  been  luminously 


THE    SONGS    OF   TEANCE. 


293 


vindicated,  in  many  a  goodly  tome,  pamphlet,  and  lengthy 
oration ;  I  yet  think  the  best  practical  treatise  on  the  sub- 
ject, and  the  most  forcible  recommendation  of  its  benefits  to 
aU  concerned,  have  come  from  the  philosophic  pen  of  Beran- 
ger,  who  has  embodied  the  maxims  of  "  free  trade,"  as  well 
as  many  other  current  doctrines,  in.  the 


Bdranger. 

Scarciers,  tateleurs,  ou  filoux  ! 

Beste  immonde 

D'un  anoien  moude ) 

Sorciers,  bateleurs,  ou  ffloux ! 

Gais    Boh^miens !   d'ou  venez- 

VOUB? 

D'oil  nous  venons  ?     L'on  n'eu 
sgait  rien. 
L'hirondelle, 
D'oil  Tous  Yientjelle  ? 
D'oii  nous  Tenons  ?     L'on  n'en 

S9ait  rien. 
Oil  nous  irons  le  B9ait  on  bien. 


^olttual  lEconomn  of  tif)e 

Sons  of  witchcraft!  tribe  of  thieves! 
Whom  the  villager  believes 

To  deal  vrith  Satan, 
Tell  us  your  customs  and  your  rules  : 
Whence  came  ye  to  this  land  of  fools, 

On  whom  ye  fatten  ? 

"  Whence  do  we  come  ?  Whence  comes 

the  swallow  ? 
Where  does  our  home  lie  ?   Try  to  fol- 
low 
The  wild  bird's  flight. 
Speeding  from  winter's  rude  approach : 
Such  home  is  ours.    Who  dare  en- 
croach 
Upon  our  right  ? 

Sans  pays,  sans  prince,  et  sans  Prince  we  have  none,  nor  gipsy  throne, 

lois,  Nor  magistrate  nor  priest  we  own, 
Notre  vie  Nor  tax  nor  claim ; 

Doit  faire  envie.  Blithesome,  we  wander  reckless,  free, 

Sans  pays,  sans  prince,  sans  lois.  And  happy  two  days  out  of  three  j 
L'homme  est  heureux  un  jour  Who'U  say  the  same  ? 

BUT  trois. 

Tous  ind^pendans  nous  naissons,   Away  with  church-enactments  dismal  I 


Sans  eghse 
Qui  nous  baptise : 
Tous  independans  nous  naissons, 
Au  bruit  dufifre  et  des  chansons. 


Nos  premiers  pas  sont  d^ages 

Dans  ce  monde 

Oil  I'erreur  abonde ; 

Nos  premiers  pas  sont  degages 

Du  vieux  maiUot  des  prejuges. 


We  have  no  hturgy  baptismal 

When  we  are  born  ; 
Save  the  dance  under  greenwood  tree. 
And  the  glad  sound  of  revelry 

With  pipe  and  horn. 

At  our  first  entrance  on  this  globe, 
Where  Falsehood  walks  in  varied  robe, 

Caprice,  and  whims, 
— Sophist  or  bigot,  heed  ye  this  !— 
The  swathing-bands  of  prejudice 

Bound  not  our  limbs. 


294 


TATHBE   P]10tra'''S   KELIQUES. 


An  peuple  en  but  a  nos  laroins, 

Tout  grimoire 

En  peut  faire  accroire ; 

An  peuple  en  but  5.  nos  larcins, 

H  faut  des  sorciers  et  des  sainta. 


Well  do  we  ten  the  vulgar  mind, 
Ever  to  Truth  and  Candour  blind, 

But  led  by  Cunning ; 
What  rogue  can  tolerate  a  brother  P 
Gipsies    contend  with  priestg,  each 
other 

In  tricks  outrunning. 


Fauvres  oiseaux  que  Bieu  binit, 
De  la  ville 
Qu'on  nous  exile ; 
Pauvres  oiseaux  que  Dieu  benit, 
Au  fond  des  bois  pend  notre  nid. 


Ton  osil  ne  peut  se  detacher, 

Philosophe 

De  mince  ^toffe — 

Ton  ceil  ne  peut  se  dftacher 

Du  vieux   ooq    de    ton   vieux 

clocher. 


Your  '  towered  cities'  please  us  not  j 
But  give  us  some  secluded  spot, 

Ear  from  the  millions  : 
Ear  from  the  busy  haimts  of  men, 
Erise  for  the  night,  in  shady  glen. 

Our  dark  pavilionB. 

Soon  we  are  off  j  for  we  can  see 
Nor  pleasure  nor  philosophy 

In  fix^d  dwelling. 
Ours  is  a  life — the  life  of  clowns, 
Or  drones  who  vegetate  in  towns. 

Ear,  far  excelling  ! 


Voir,  c'est  avoir  !  allons  courir ! 
Vie  errante 
Est  chose  enivrante ; 
Voir,  c'est  avoir  !  allons  courir ! 
Car  tout  voir  c'est  toutconquerir. 


Paddock  and  park,  fence  and  enclo- 
sure, 
We  scale  with  ease  and  vrith  compo- 
sure : 
'Tis  quite  delightful! 
Such  is  our  empire's  mystic  charm, 
We  are  the  owners  of  each  farm, 
More  than  the  rightful. 


Mais  k  I'homme  on  orie  en  tout  Great  is  the  foUy  of  the  wise, 

Ueu,  If  on  relations  he  relies, 
Qu'il  s'agite.  Or  trusts  in  men ; 

Ou  croupisse  au  gite  ;  '  Welcome !'  they  say,  to  babes  bora 
Mais  a  rhomme  on  crie  en  tout  newly, 

Ueu,  But  when  your  life  is  eked  out  duly, 
Tu  nais,  "  bonjour  !"  tu  meurs,  '  Good  evening  !'  ftien. 

"adieu!" 


Quand  nous  mourons,  vieui  ou  Kone  among  us  seeks  to  Ulude 

bambin.  By  empty  boast  of  brotherhood, 
Homme  ou  femme,  Or  false  affection ; 

A  Dieu  soit  notre  ^me ;  Give,  when  we  die,  our  souls  to  God, 

Quand  nous  sommes  morts,  vieus  Our  body  to  the  grassy  sod, 

ou  bambin,  Or  '  for  dissection.' 

On  vend  le  corps  au  carabin. 


THE    SONGS    or    FEANCB.  295 

Mais  CToyez  en  notre  gaiet^.  Tour  noblemen  may  tali  of  vassals. 

Noble  ou  pretre,  Proud   of  their  trappings  and  their 

Valet  ou  maitre ;  tasBels  j 

Mais  croyez  en  notre  gaiete.  But  never  heed  them  ; 

Le  bonheur  c'est  la  liberie.  Our's  is  the  life  of  perfect  bliss — 

^Freedom  is  man's  best  joy,  and  this 

Is  PEEPEOT  EBEEDOM  !" 

This  gipsy  code,  in  wisdom  far  outshining  the  "  Pandects," 
the  "  Digest,"  or  the  "  Code  Napoleon,"  is  submitted  to  the 
disciples  of  Jeremy  Bentham,  as  a  guide  whenever  an  experi- 
ment in  anima  vili  is  fairly  to  be  made  on  the  "  vile  body"  of 
existing  laws,  by  the  doctors  of  destruction. 

To  arrive  at  this  millennium  is  not  an  easy  matter,  and 
the  chances  are  becoming  every  day  more  unfavourable.  The 
relish  of  mankind  for  experimental  innovation  is  dull  in  these 
latter  days ;  and  great  are  the  trials,  lamentable  the  dis- 
appointments that  await  the  apostles  of  popular  enlighten- 
ment. "  Co-operative  theories"  in  England  have  gone  to  the 
grave  unwept,  iinsung ;  while  in  America  Bob  Owen's  music 
of  "  New  Harmony,"  instead  of  developing  its  notes 

"  In  many  a  bout 
Of  linked  sweetness  long  drawn  out," 

has  snapped  off  most  abruptly. 

In  Prance,  after  years  of  change,  and  the  throes  of  con- 
stant convulsion,  the  early  dream  of  young  philosophy  is  stUl 
unrealised,  and  the  shade  of  Anacharsis  Clootz  wanders 
through  the  "  Elysian  fields"  dejected  and  dissatisfied.  The 
son  of  Egalitfe  fiUs  her  throne,  and  the  monarchy  has  lost 
nothing  of  its  controlling  power,  whatever  it  may  have  ac- 
quired of  homeliness  and  vulgarity.  The  vague  and  confused 
ravings  of  1790,  after  three  years'  saturnalia,  aptly  termi- 
nated in  the  demoniac  rule  of,  and  became  incarnate  in,  Eo- 
bespierre.  The  subsequent  years  condensed  themselves  into 
the  substantive  shape  of  military  despotism,  with  the  re- 
deeming feature  of  glory  in  arms,  and  "  all  the  walks  of  war." 
That  too  passed  away,  a  lull  came  o'er  the  spirit  of  the  demo- 
cratic dream,  while  old  Louis  XVIII.  nodded  in  that  elbow- 
chair  which  answered  all  the  purposes  of  a  throne ;  the  im- 
becile Charles  furnished  too  tempting  an  opportunity,  and 
it  was  seized  with  the  avidity  of  truant  schoolbovs  who  get 


296  PATHEE  peotjt's  eemques.  , 

up  a  "  barring  out ;"  but  the  triumph  of  the  barricades  met 
dim  eclipse  and  disastrous  twilight,  the  citizen  king's  opaque 
form  arose  between  the  soleil  de  Juillet  and  the  disappointed 
republicans  casting  an  ominous  shade  over  the  land  of  frogs. 
Still  loud  and  incessant  is  the  croaking  of  the  dissatisfied 
tenants  of  the  swamp,  little  knowing  ( pauvres  gtenouiUes .') 
that,  did  not  some  such  dense  body  interpose  between  the 
scorching  luminary  of  July  and  their  liquid  dwelling,  they 
would  be  parched,  burnt  up,  and  annihilated  in  the  glow  of 
republican  fervour.  Even  so  Aristophanes  pictures  Charon 
and  his  unruly  mob,  who  refuse  to  cease  their  querulous 
outcry,  though  threatened  with  the  splashing  oar  of  the 
ferryman : 

AXKa  ii,ri\i  xsxga^o//,i(!6a,  y' 
'O'TToaov  ri  (pa^uy^  av  rifjiuv 

Barga;^.  Act  i.  Scene  5. 

"  In  our  own  quagmire,  'tia  provoking 
That  folks  should  think  to  stop  our  croaking ! 
Sons  of  the  swamp,  with  lungs  of  leather, 
Now  is  our  time  to  screech  together !" 

But  I  lose  time  in  these  extra-parochial  discussions ;  and 
therefore,  leaving  them  to  chorus  it  according  to  their  own 
view  of  the  case,  I  return  to  the  arbiter  of  song — B6ranger. 
!None  of  the  heroes  who  accomplished  this  last  revolution 
felt  their  discomfiture  more  than  our  poet,  whose  ideas  are 
cast  in  the  mould  of  Spartan  republicanism.  He  resigns 
himself  with  philosophic  patience  to  the  melancholy  result ; 
and,, indeed,  if  I  may  judge  from  a  splendid  embodying  of 
his  notions  concerning  Providence  and  the  government  of 
this  sublunary  world,  m  an  ode,  which  (though  tinged  some- 
what with  Deism)  contains  impassioned  poetic  feeling,  I 
should  think  that  he  still  finds  comfort  in  the  retrospect  of 
his  own  individual  sincerity  and  disinterestedness.  There 
is  less  of  the  Sybarite,  however,'  in  his  philosophy  than  may 
be  found  in  another  "  bard"  who  in 

"  pleasure's  soft  dreata 
Has  tried  to  forget  what  he  never  could  heal." 


THE    SONeS  OF  TBANCE.  297 


Ee  Situ  tiei  ionnti  &gn3* 

H  est  un  Dieu ;  devant  lui  je  m'incliue, 
Pauvre  et  content,  sans  lui  demander  rien. 

De  I'lmivers  obserfant  la  machine, 
J'y  vois  du  mal,  et  n'aime  que  le  bien ; 

Mais  le  plaisir  k  ma  phUoBophie 
EevMe  assez  de  oieux  iatelHgens. 

le  verre  en  main,  gaiement  je  me  confie 

Au  Dieu  des  bonnes  gens  t 

Dans  mon  rednit  oil  Ton  voit  I'indigence 

Sans  m.'evpiller  assise  k  mou  chevet, 
Grace  aux  amours  berce  par  I'esp&ance, 

D'un  Ht  plus  doux  je  reve  le  duvet ; 
Aux  dieux  des  cours  qu'un  autre  sacrifie — 

Moi,  qui  ne  crois  qu'i  des  dieux  indulgens, 
Le  verre  en  main,  gaiement  je  me  confie 

Au  Dieu  des  bonnes  gens ! 

TJn  conqu&ant,  dans  sa  fortune  altiere, 

Se  fit  un  jeu  des  sceptres  et  des  roia ; 
Et  de  ses  piede  Ton  peut  voir  la  poussifere 

Empreint^  eucor  aur  le  bandeau  des  rois  ; 
Vous  rampiez  tons,  O  rois  !  qu'on  deifie — 

Moi,  pour  braver  des  maitres  exigeaua, 
Le  verre  en  main,  gaiement  je  me  confie 

Au  Dieu  des  bonnes  gens ! 

Dans  nos  palaie,  oil  pree  de  la  victoire 

BriUaient  les  arts,  doux  fruits  des  beaux  climats, 

J'ai  vu  du  nord  lea  peuplades  aans  gloire 
De  leurs  manteaux  secouer  lea  frunats : 

Sur  noa  debria  Albion  noua  defie  ; 

Mais  la  fortune  et  lea  flots  sont  changeans — 

Le  verre  en  main,  gaiement  je  me  confie 

Au  Dieu  des  bonnes  gens  1 

Quelle  menace  un  prStre  fait  entendre  ? 

Nous  touchons  tons  a  nos  demiers  instans  j 
L'etemit^  va  se  faire  comprendre, 

Tout  va  finir  I'univers  et  le  tems : 
Vous,  ch^rubins,  I  la  face  bouffie, 

EeveiUez,  done  les  morts  peu  dUigens — 
Le  verre  en  main,  gaiement  je  me  confie 

Au  Dieu  des  bonnes  gens  I 


29S  FATHEE  PBOUT's  EELIQUES. 

Mais,  quelle  en'eur !  non,  Dieu  n'est  pas  colore } 

8'il  orea  tout,  4  tout  il  sert  d'appui. 
Vins  qu'il  nous  donne,  amiti^  tut^laire, 

Et  Tous,  amours,  qui  orees  aprSs  lui, 
PrStez  un  charme  h  ma  phUoBophie, 

Pour  dissiper  des  rgres  affligeans  ! — 
Le  yerre  en  main,  gaiemeut  je  me  confie 

Au  Dieu  des  bonnes  gen*  I 

Wtft  Sou  of  iSernngtr. 

There's  a  Q-od  whom  the  poet  in  silence  adores, 

But  molests  not  his  throne  with  importunate  prayer ; 
For  he  knows  that  the  evil  he  sees  and  abhors, 

There  is  blessing  to  balance,  and  balm  to  repair. 
But  the  plan  of  the  Deity  beams  in  the  bowl, 

And  the  eyeUd  of  beauty  reveals  his  design  : 
Oh !  the  goblet  in  hand,  I  abandon  my  soul 

To  the  Giver  of  genius,  love,  friendship,  and  wine ! 

At  the  door  oi  my  dwelling  the  children  of  want 

Ever  find  the  full  welcome  its  roof  can  afford ! 
While  the  dreams  of  the  rich  pain  and  poverty  haunt, 

Peace  awaits  on  my  pillow,  and  joy  at  my  board. 
Let  the  god  of  the  court  other  votaries  seek — 

No !  the  idol  of  sycophants  never  was  mine ; 
But  I  worship  the  God  of  the  lowly  and  meek, 

In  the  Giver  of  genius,  love,  friendship,  and  wine ! 

I  have  seen  die  a  captive,  of  courtiers  bereft. 

Him,  the  sound  of  whose  fame  through  our  hemisphere  rings ; 
I  have  marked  both  his  rise  and  his  faE :  he  has  left 

The  imprint  of  his  heel  on  the  forehead  of  kings. 
Oh,  ye  monarchs  of  Europe !  ye  crawled  round  his  throne — 

Ye,  who  now  claim  our  homage,  then  knelt  at  his  shrine  j 
But  I  never  adored  him,  but  tiumed  me  alone 

To  the  Giver  of  genius,  love,  friendship,  and  wine  I 

The  Eussians  have  dwelt  in  the  home  of  the  Frank  ; 

In  our  haUs  from  their  mantles  they've  shaken  the  frost ; 
Of  their  war-boots  our  Louvre  has  echoed  the  clank, 

As  they  passed,  in  barbarian  astonishment  lost. 
O'er  the  ruins  of  Prance,  take,  O  England !  take  pride ! 

Yet  a  simiLar  downfal,  proud  land  !  may  be  thine ; 
But  the  poet  of  freedom  stiU,  siill  will  confide. 

In  the  Giver  of  genius,  love,  friendship,  and  wine ! 

This  planet  is  doomed,  by  the  priesthood's  decree, 
To  deserved  dissolution  one  day,  O  !  my  frieudjs ; 

Lo  !  thfi  hurricane  gathers  j  the  bolt  is  set  free ! 
And  the  thunder  on  wings  of  destruction  descends. 


'Dans  Tin'gtenier  qu'on  est  'bieu  a  vitigt  axis" 


J'a^e299^ 


THE    SONGS   or  rKANCE.  299 

Of  thy  trumpet,  archangel,  delay  not  the  blast ; 

Wake  the  dead  in  the  graves  where  their  ashes  recline  : 
While  the  poet,  unmoved,  puts  his  trust  to  the  last 

In  the  &iver  of  genius,  love,  friendship,  and  wine ! 

But  away  with  the  night-mare  of  gloomy  forethought ! 

Let  the  goul  Superstition  creep  back  to  its  den ; 
Oh !  this  fair  goodly  globe,  filled  with  plenty,  was  wrought 

By  a  bountiful  hand,  for  the  children  of  men. 
Let  me  take  the  full  scope  of  my  years  as  they  roll, 

Let  me  bask  in  the  sun's  pleasant  rays  whilp  they  shine  j 
Then,  with  goblet  in  hMid,  I'll  abandon  my  so;ul 

To  the  Giver  of  genius,  love,  friendship,,  and  wine ! 

Whatever  may  be  the  failings  and  errors  of  our  poet,  due 
to  the  disastrous  days  on  which  his  youth  has  fallen,  there 
is  discernible  ill  his  writings  the  predominant  character  of 
his  mind-^frankness,  single-heartedness,  and  candour.  It 
is  impossible  not  "to  entertain  a  friendly  feelrag  towards 
such  a  man;  and  I  am  not  sxirprised  to  learn  that  he  is 
cherished  by  the  French  people.  .with>  a  fervency  akin  to 
idolatry.  He  is  no  tuft-hunter,  nor  Whigling  sycophant, 
nor  trafficker  in  his  merchandise  of  song.  Neither  has  he 
sought  to  cbiivert  his  patriotism  itito  an  engine  for  picking 
the  pockets  of  the  jbor.  He  has  set  up  no  pretensions  to 
nobility ;  although,  he  could  no  doubt  trump  up  a  story  of 
Norman  ancestry',  tad  convert  some  old  farm-house  on  the 
sea-coast  into  an  ".abbey."  It  is  not.with  the  affect9,tion 
of  a  svraidUng  dem,agpguei  but  with  the  heartfelt  cordiality 
of  one  of  themselves,  that  hfe  gloriesi  iu  belonging  to  the 
people.  What  poet  blit  B^ranger  ever  thought  of  comme- 
morating ^^?  (j'flr'^ef  where  he  spent  his  earlier  days  ? 

Ee  (©itnttt  Ue  33«rangfr.        Cl)e  ©arret  of ^ trail gtr. 

Je  reviens  yoir  I'asyle  o5i  ipa  jeunesse  Oh!  it  was  here  that  Love  hie 

De  la  misSire  a  Bubi  les  U90ns':     ■  gifts  bestowed 

J'avais  vingt  aus,  une  folle  maitresse.  On  youth's  wild  age ! 

De  francs  amis,  et  I'amour  des  chan-  Gladly  once  more  I  seek  my 

sons  ;  youth's  abode, 

Bravant  le  monde,  et  les  sots,  et  Ifis  In  pilgrimage  : 

"  sages.  Here  my  young  mistress  with  her 

Sans  avenir,  riche  de  mon  printems,  poet  dared 

Leste  et  joyeux,  je  montais  six  ftages —  Eeckless  to  dwell : 

I)ans  un  grenier  qu'on  est  bien  i.  vingt  She  was  sixteen,  I  twenty,  and 

ane !  we  shared 

This  attic  cell. 


300  PATHEE  PEOTTT'S   EEI/IQrES. 

C'est  iin  grenier,  point  ne  veux  qu'on  Yes,  'twas  a  garret !  be  it  known 

rignore :  to  all, 

L^  flit  mon  lit,  bien  ebetif  et  bien  Here  was  love's  shrine : 

dur ;  There  read,  in  charcoal  traced 

U,  fat  ma  table ;  et  je  retrouve  encore  along  the  wall, 

Trois  pieds  d'lm  vera  charbonn&  Th'  unftniahed  line — 

sur  le  mur.  Here  was  the  board  where  kin- 

Apparaisaez,  plaiaira  de  mon  bel  Age,  dred  hearts  would  blend. 

Que  d'un  coup  d'ceil  a  fiistig6  la  The  Jew  can  tell 

tema !  How  oft  I  pawned  my  watch,  to 

Vingt  fois  pour  vous  j'ai  mis  ma  mon-  feast  a  friend 

tre  en  gage —  In  attio  cell ! 
Dans  un  g/enier  qu'on  est  bien  h,  vingt 
ana! 

Lisette  ici  doit  surtout  apparaitre,  O !  my  Lisette's  fair  form  could 

Vive,  jolie,  avec  un  frais  chapeau ;  I  recall 

D6jk  aa  main  a  I'^troite  fenStre  With  fairy  wand ! 

Suspend  aon  schale  en  guise  de  ri-  There  she  woidd  blind  the  win- 

deau :  dow  vrith  her  shawl — 

Sa  robe  auasi  va  parer  ma  couchette —  Baahfiil,  yet  fond ! 

Eespecte,  Amour !  sea  plia  longa  et  What  though  from  whom  she  got 

flottans  :  her  dress  I've  since 

J'ai  su  depuia  qui  payait  sa  toilette —  Learnt  but  too  well, 

Dana  un  grenier  qu'on  est  bien  &  Still  in  those  days  I  envied  not 

vingt  ans !  a  prince 

In  attic  cell ! 

A  table  un  jour,  jour  de  grande  rich-  Eere  the  glad  tidings  on  our 

eaae,  banquet  burst, 

De  mea  amis  les  voix  briUaient  en  Mid  the  bright  bowls  : 

choeur,  Yes,  it  was  here  Maiengo's  tri- 

Quand  jusqu'ici  monte  un  cri  d'al^-  umph  first 

gresse.  Kindled  our  souls ! 

Qu'k  Marengo  Bonaparte  est  vain-  Bronze  cannon  roared  j  Prance 

queur !  vrith  redoubled  might 

Le  canon  gronde — un    autre  chant  Pelt  her  heart  swell ! 

commence —  Proudly  we  drank  our  consul's 

Nous  cel^brons  tant  de  faits  ^clatans ;  health  that  night 

Les    rois   jamais    n'envahiront   la  In  attio  ceE ! 
Prance — 
Dans  un  grenier  qu'on  est  bien  k 
vingt  ans ! 

Quittona  ce  toit,  oil  ma  raison  s'e-  Dreams  of  my  joyful  youth!  I'd 

nivre —  freely  give, 

Oh,  qu'ils  sont  loin  ces  joura  ai  re-  Ere  my  Ufe's  cloae, 

grettes !  All  the  dml  days  I'm  destined 

J'^changerai  ce  qu'il  me  reste  a  vivre  yet  to  live, 

Centre  un  des  jours  qu'ici  Dieum'a  For  one  of  those ! 
compt^s, 


THE    SONGS    OF   I'EANCE.  301 

Pour  rfever  gloire,  amour,  plaisir,  folie,  Where  sliall  I  now  find  raptures 
Pour  depenser  sa  vie  en  peu  d'in-  that  were  felt, 

stans,  Joys  that  befell, 

D'un  long  espoir  pour  la  Toir  em-  Audhopes  thatdawnedattwenty, 
beUie —  when  I  dwelt 

Dans  un  grenier  qu'on  est  bien  k  In  attic  cell  ? 

ringt  ans ! 

Nothing  can  offer  a  more  ludicrous  image  to  the  dispas- 
sionate observer  of  passing  transactions,  than  the  assump- 
tion of  radical  politics  by  some  men  whose  essential  nature 
is  thoroughly  imbued  with  contempt  for  the  mob,  while 
they  are  straining  every  nerve  to  secure  its  sweet  voices.  I 
could  name  many  who  assume  such  sentiments  respecting 
the  distinctions  of  hereditary  rank  in  this  country,  yet 
would  feel  very  acutely  the  deprivation  of  the  rank  and 
name  they  bear,  or  an  inquiry  into  the  devious  and  questi- 
onable title  by  which  they  retain  them.  The  efforts  they 
make  to  conceal  their  private  feelings  before  the  multitude 
recall  a  hint  addressed»to  some  "  republicans  who  paraded 
the  streets  of  Paris  ia  1793 : 

"  Mais  enfoncez  dans  vos  culottes 
Le  bout  de  Hnge  qui  pend  ! 
On  dira  que  les  patriotes 

Out  deploy^  le  '  drapeau  blanc.'" 

Autobiography  is  the  rage.  John  Q-alt,  the  Ettrick  Hogg, 
the  English  Opium-eater,  Sir  Egerton  Brydges,  Jack  Ketch, 
GT3,nt-Thorburn,  and  sundry  other  personages,  have  lately 
adorned  this  department  of  our  literature.  In  his  song,  the 
"  Tailor  and  the  Eairy,"  B^ranger  has  acquitted  himself  of 
a  task  indispensable  in  modern  authors.  He  was  born  tho 
same  year  as  T.  Moore,  1780. 

He  Catllcur  tt  la  ;ffte. 

Dans  ce  Paris,  plein  d'or  et  de  mis&re. 

En  Pan  du  Christ  mil  sept  cent  quatre-vingt, 
Chez  uu  taiUeur,  mon  pauvre  et  vieux  grand-pfere, 

Moi  nouTeau-n4  sachez  ce  qui  m'advint. 
Bien  ne  predit  la  gloire  d'un  Orphee 

A  mon  berceau,  qui  u'etait  pas  de  fleurs  ; 

Mais  mon  grand-pere,  accourant  k  mes  pleurs, 
Me  trouve  un  jour  dans  les  bras  d'une  fee.  , 

Et  oette  fee,  arec  de  gais  refrains, 
Calmait  le  cri  de  mes  premiers  chagnnB 


302  PATHEB  PEOTTT'S   EELIQUES. 

"  Le  bon  viellard  lai  dit ;  L'3,me  inquifete ! 

A  oet  enfant  quel  destin  est  promis  ?" 
Elle  r^pond  :  "  Vois  le  sous  ma  baguette, 

Gar^on  d'auberge,  imprimeur,  et  commis ; 
TJn  coup  de  foudre*  ajoute  h,  mes  presages — 

Ton  file  atteint,  ra  pferir  consume  ; 

Dieu  le  regarde,  et  I'oiseau  rauime 
Vole  en  chantant  brarer  d'autres  orages.'' 

Et  puis  la  fee,  avec  de  gais  refrains, 
Calmait  le  cri  de  mes  premiers  chagrins. 

"  Tons  les  plaisirs,  sylphes  de  la  jeunesse, 

Eveilleront  sa  lyre  au  sein  des  nuits  ; 
Au  toit  du  pauvre  il  r^pand  I'al^gresse, 

A  Topulence  U  saure  des  ennuis. 
Mais  quel  spectacle  attriste  son  langage  ? 

Tout  s'engloutit  et  gloire  et  Uberte  ! 

Comme  un  peeheur  qui  rentre  ^pourante, 
H  yient  au  port  reconter  leur  naufrage." 

Et  puis  la  fee,  aveo  de  gais  refrains, 
Calmait  le  cri  de  mes  premiers  chagrins." 


Wi)t  ^utobfograpl^j  of  P.  §.  De  JScranger. 

Paris  !  gorgeous  abode  of  the  gay  !     Paris !  haunt  of  despair ! 

There  befell  in  thy  bosom  one  day  an  occurrence  most  weighty. 
At  the  house  of  a  tailor,  my  grandfather,  under  whose  care 

I  was  nursed,  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  seventeen  hundred  and  eighty. 
By  no  token,  'tis  true,  did  my  cradle  announce  a  young  Horace — 
And  the  omens  were  such  as  might  well  lead  astray  the  unwary  5 
But  with  utter  amazement  one  morning  my  grandfather,  Maurice, 
Saw  his  graudchUd  reclining  asleep  in  the  arms  of  a  fairy ! 
And  this  fairy  so  handsome 
Assumed  an  appearance  so  striking. 
And  for  me  seemed  to  take  such  a  liking, 
That  he  knew  not  what  gift  he  should  offer  the  dame  for  my  ransom. 

Had  he  previously  studied  thy  Legends,  O  rare  Crofty  Croker ! 

He'd  have  leamt  how  to  act  from  thy  pages — ('tis  there  that  the 
charm  is  !) 
But  my  guardian's  first  impulse  was  rather  to  look  for  the  poker, 

To  rescue  his  beautiful  boy  from  her  hands  vi  et  armis. 

*  Beranger  tells  us  in  a  note,  that  in  early  life  he  had  well  nigh  pe- 
rished by  the  electric  fluid  in  a  thunder-storm.  The  same  is  relate^  of 
Luther,  when  at  the  university.  The  flash  which,  in  Luther's  case, 
changed  tlie  student  into  a  monk,  in  Beranger's  converted  the  tailor's 
goose  into  a  swan. — Pbobt. 


THE    SONGS   OP  FEANCB.  303 

Yet  he  paused  in  his  plan,  and  adopted  a  milder  suggestion, 

For  her  attitude,  cairn  and  unterrified,  made  him  respect  her 
So  he  thought  it  was  best  to  be  civil,  and  fairly  to  question, 
Concerning  my  prospects  in  life,  the  benevolent  spectre. 
And  the  fairy,  prophetical, 
Bead  my  destinjr's  book  in  a  minute, 
With  all  the  particulars  in  it : 
And  its  outline  she  drew  with  exactitude  most  geometrical. 

"  His  career  shall  he  mingled  with  pleasure,  though  chectered  with  pain 

And  some  bright  sunny  hours  shall  succeed  to  a  rigorous  winter  i 
See  him  first  a  garfon  at  a  hostelry — then,  with  disdain 

See  him  spurn  that  vile  craft,  and  apprentice  himself  to  a  printer. 
As  a  poor  university-clert  view  him  nest  at  his  desk  ; — 

Mark  that  ilash  ! — he  wiU  have  a  most  narrow  escape  from  the  hght- 
ning : 
But  behold  after  sundry  adventures,  some  bold,  some  grotesque. 
The  horizon  clears  up,  and  his  prospects  appear  to  be  brightening." 
And  the  fairy,  caressing 
The  infant,  foretold  that,  ere  long. 
He  would  warble  um?ivalled  in  song ; 
All  IVance  in  the  homage  which  Paris  had  paid  acquiescing. 

"  Yes,  the  muse  has  adopted  the  boy !  On  his  brow  see  the  laurel ! 

In  his  hand  'tis  Anaoreon's  cup  ! — ^with  the  &reek  he  has  drank  it. 
Mark  the  high-minded  tone  of  his  songs,  and  their  exquisite  moral. 

Giving  joy  to  the  opttage,  and  heightening  the  blaze  of  the  banquet. 
Now  the  fiiture  grows  dark — see  the  spectacle  France  has  become  ! 

IVIid  the  wreck  of  his  country,  the  poet,  undaunted  and  proud. 
To  the  public  complaints  shall  give  utterance  :  slaves  may  be  dumb, 
But  he'U  ring  in  the  hearing  of  despots  defiance  aloud !" 
And  the  fairy  addressing 
jVIy  grandfather,  somewhat  astonished. 
So  mildly  my  guardian  admonished. 
That  he  wept  while  he  vanished  away  with  a  smUe  and  a  blessing. 

Such,  is  the  man  whose  works  will  form  the  most  enduring 
monument  of  the  literature  of  Trance  during  the  first 
quarter  of  the  nineteenth  century.  It  is  the  pride  of  my 
old  age  to  have  recorded  in  these  "  papers"  my  admiration 
of  this  extraordinary  writer  ;  and  when,  at  a  future  period, 
commentators  and  critics  shall  feed  on  his  ever- verdant  pages, 
and  disport  themselves  in  the  leaves  of  his  immortal  poetry, 
it  will  be  perhaps  mentioned  by  some  votary  of  recondite 
lore,  that  an  obscure  clergyman,  on  a  barren  Irish  hill, 
made  the  first  efi'ort  to  transplant  hither  some  slips  of  that , 
luxuriant  tree  ;  though  he  fears  that, -like  the  "  mulberry," 


304  TATHBE  PBOVt's  EELIQTJES. 

it  cannot  be  naturalized  in  these  islands,  and  must  still  con- 
tinue to  form  the  exclusive  boast  and  pride  of  a  happier 
climate. 

Next  to  the  songster-laureate  of  Prance,  posterity  wiU 
haU  in  Victor  Hugo  the  undoubted  excellence  of  original 
thought,  arid  the  gift  of  glowing  expression.  Before  these 
two  lofty  minds  the  minor  poets,  Lamartine  and  Chateau- 
briand, will  sink  into  comparative  insignificance.  Thus 
Burns  and  Byron  will  be  remembered  and  read  when  Bob 
Montgomery  and  Haynes  Bayly  will  be  swept  away  with 
the  coteries  who  applauded  them.  "  Opinionum  commenta 
delet  dies,"  quoth  the  undying  Tully ;  "  naturae  judicja  con- 
firmat."  But,  after  all,  what  is  fame  ?  It  is  a  question 
that  often  recurs  to  me,  dwelling  frequently,  in  sober  pen- 
siveness,  on  the  hollow  futility  of  human  pursuits,  and  pon- 
dering on  the  narrow  extent  of  that  circle  which,  ia  its 
widest  possible  diffusion,  renown  can  hope  to  fill  here  below. 
Never  has  a  Pagan  writer  penned  a  period  more  replete  with 
Christian  philosophy  than  the  splendid  passage  which  me- 
mory brings  me  here  in  the  natural  succession  of  serious 
reflections  that  crowd  on  my  miud : — "  Igitur  altfe  spectare 
si  voles,  et  aetemam  domum  contueri,  neque  te  sermonibus 
vulgi  dederis,  neque  in  prsemiis  humanis  spem  posueris  rerum 
tuarum.  Quid  de  te  alii  loquantur,  ipsi  videant ;  loquentur 
tamen.  Sermo  autem  omnis  ille  et  angustiis  cingitur  iis 
regionum  quas  vides  ;  nee  unquam  de  ullo  perennis  fuit ;  et 
obruitur  hominum  interitu  ;  et  oblivione  posteritatis  extin- 
guitur  !" — Cic.  Som.  Scip. 

To  return  to  Victor  Hugo.  It  would  be  unpardonaile  in 
me  to  have  written  a  series  of  papers  on  the  "  Songs  of 
!France,"  and  not  to  have  given  some  specimens  of  his  re- 
fined and  delicate  compositions.  Hugo  does  not  address 
himself  so  much  to  the  popular  capacity  as  his  energetic 
contemporary  :  he  is  a  scholar,  and  seeks  "  fitting  audience, 
though  few."  The  lyrical  pieces,  however,  which  I  sub> 
join,  will  be  felt  by  all  in  their  thrilling  appeal  to  our  sen'- 
sibilities. 

Though  I  do  not  regret  the  space  I  have  devoted  to  the 
beauties  of  B^ranger,  it  is  still  with  a  feeling  of  embarrass- 
ment that  I  bring  forward  thus  late,  and  towards  the  close 
of  my  lucubrations  on  this  interesting  subject,  so  deserving 


THE    SONGS   OF   rEAITCE.  305 

a  claimant  on  the  notice  of  the  public.  Be  that  as  it  may, 
here  goes !  and,  gentle  reader,  thou  hast  before  thee  two 
gems  of  the  purest  water.    The  first  is  an  Oriental  emerald. 

Ee  Toile.    ®rientale. 

Victor  Hugo, 
"  Avez-vous  fait  votre  pri&re  ce  Boir,  Desd^mona  ?" — Shakespeare. 

LA  B(BUR.  LA   S(EUR. 

Qu'avez-voTis,  qu'avez-vous^  mes  frferes?  Qui? — peut-^.tre— mais  eon  andace 
YouB  baissez  des  fronts  soucieux;  N'a  pas  tu  mes  traita  devoiles. — 

Comme  des  lampes  fun^raires  Mais  youb  tous  parlez  k  voix  basse  t 
Vos  regards  brillent  dans  vos  yeux.  A  voix  basse  vous  vous  parlez  1 

VoB  ceinturea  sont  d&chirdea  I  Vous  fautril  du  sang  ?  sur  votre  fime, 

D6jk  trois  folB  hors  de  I'^tui,  Mes  frferes,  il  n'a  p&  me  voir. 

Sous  vos  doigts  ^  demi  tirfees,  Grftce  I  Tuerez-vous  une  femme, 

Les  lames  des  poignards  out  lui.  Foible  et  nue^  en  votre  ponvoir  ? 

LE  FHERE  AINE,  LE  TROISIEMB  FEEEE. 

N'avez-vous  pas  lev&  votre  voile  aujourd'-    Le  soleil  fitait  rouge  k  son  coucher  ce  soirl 
bui? 

LA  SCSUB.  LA   BCEUR. 

Je  revenais  du  bain,  mes  frdres ;  Grfice !  qu'ai-je  fait  ?    GrSce !  gr&ce ! 

Seigneurs,  du  bain  je  revenaig,  Dieu  1  quatre  poignards  dans  mon  flanc  I 

Cached  aux  regards  temeraires  Ah  !  par  vos  genoux  que  j'embrasse — 

Des  Giaours  et  des  Albanais.  Oh,  mon  voile  I  oh,  mon  voile  blanc  I 

En  passant  pr^s  de  la  mosque^,  Ne  fuyez  pas  mes  mains  qui  saignent, 
Dans  mon  palanquin  reconvert,  Mes  fr^res,  soutenez  mes  pas  I 

L'air  de  midi  m'a  BufiToqu^e,  Gar  sur  mes  regards  qui  B'^teignent 
Mon  voile  un  instant  s'est  ouvert.  S'^tend  un  voile  de  trSpas. 

LB   SECOND  FKEBE.  LE  QTTATBIBaiE  FRERE. 

tTchomme  alors  passait?  un  bomme  en    G'enestunque  du  moinB  tu  ne  leveras 
caftan  vert?  pas  I 


Ci^c  'Ftil.    ^n  (©riental  ©iaiogue. 

Victor  Hugo. 
"Have  you  pray'd  to-night,  Desdemona?"— Shakespeare. 

THE   SISTEE. 

What  has  happened,  my  hrothers  ?    Your  spirit  to  day 
Some  secret  sorrow  damps  ; 
.  There's  a  cloud  on  your  brow.    What  has  happened?  oh,  say ! 
For  your  eyeballs  glare  out  with  a  sinister  ray, 
Like  the  light  of  funeral  lamps. 

The  blades  of  your  poniards  are  half-unsheathed 

In  your  zone — and  ye  frown  on  me ! 
There's  a  woe  untold,  there's  a  pang  imbreathed, 

In  your  bosom,  my  brothers  three ! 


306  TATHBE  PEOTTt's   EELIQTJES. 

EEDE9T  BBOTHEB. 

O-ulnara,  make  answer !    Hast  thou,  since  the  dawn. 
To  the  eye  of  a  stranger  thy  veil  -witbdraTm  ? 

TEE  BISTEB. 

As  I  came,  O  my  brothers  ! — at  noon — from  the  bath- 
As  I  came — it  waa  noon — my  lords — 
And  your  sister  had  then,  as  she  constantly  hath, 
Drawn  her  veil  close  around  her,  aware  that  the  path 
Is  beset  by  these  foreign  hordes. 

But  the  weight  of  the  noonday's  sultry  hour 
'Near  the  mosque  was  so  oppressive, 

That — forgetting  a  moment  the  eye  of  the  Giaour— 
I  yielded  to  heat  excessive. 

SECOITD  BEOTHEE. 
Ghilnara,  make  answer !     Whom,  then,  hast  thou  seen. 
In  a  turban  of  white,  and  a  caftan  of  green  ? 

THE  SISTEE. 
Nay,  he  might  have  been  there  ;  but  I  muffled  me  so, 

He  could  scarce  have  seen  my  figure. 

But  why  to  your  sister  thus  dark  do  you  grow  ? 
Wliat  words  to  yourselves  do  you  mutter  thus  low, 

Of  "  blood,"  and  "  an  intriguer  ?" 

Oh !  ye  cannot  of  murder  bring  down  the  red  guilt 
On  your  souls,  my  brothers,  surely ! 

Though  I  fear — from  your  hand  that  I  see  on  the  hilt. 
And  the  hints  you  give  obscurely. 

THIED  BEOTHEK. 
Ghilnara !  tiiis  evening  when  sank  the  red  sun, 
Hast  thou  marked  how  like  blood  in  descending  it  shone  f 

THE  SISTEE. 

Mercy !  Allah  !  three  daggers !  have  pity  I  oh,  spare ! 

See !  I  cHng  to  your  knees  repenting ! 
Kind  brothers,  forgive  me !  for  mercy,  forbear ! 
Be  appeased  at  the  voice  of  a  sister's  despair, 

For  your  mother's  sake  relenting. 

O  Q-od !  must  I  die  ?   They  are  deaf  to  my  cries ! 

Their  sister's  life-blood  shedding : 
They  have  stabbed  me  again — and  I  faint — o'er  my  eyea 

A  Veil  oi  Death  is  spreading ! — 

EtDEST  BBOTHEE. 
Qulnara,  farewell !  take  that  veil ;  'tis  the  gift 
Of  thy  brothers — a  veil  thou  wilt  never  lift ! 


THE   SON&S    OF  FEA.NCE. 


307 


Hugo,  in  tliis  Eastern  scene,  as  well  as  in  his  glorious  ro- 
mance of  "  Notre  Dame  de  Paris,"  seems  to  take  delight  in 
harrowing  up  our  feeliags  by  the  invariably  sad  catastrophe 
of  all  his  love  adventures.  The  chord  of  sympathy  for 
broken  affections  and  shattered  hearts  seems  to  be  a  favour- 
ite one  with  this  mighty  master  of  the  Grallie  lyre.    Has.  gr. 

Ea  dfiancte  tlu  Cimbaltcr.       Wc^t  JSrttle  of  \^t  Cgmbalttr. 


Viator  Hugo. 

Monseigneur,  le  Duo  de  Bretagne, 

A  pour  les  combats  meutriers, 
Convoque  de  Nante  ^  Mortagne, 
Dans  la  plaiue,  et  sur  la  campagne, 
X'arriere-bau  de  ses  guerriers. 

Ce  8ont  des  barons,  dont  les  armes 

Ornentdes  forts  ceints  d'unfoss^. 

Dee  preux  vieillis  dans  les  alarmes, 

Des  &uyers,  des  hommes  d' armes — 

L'un  d'eutre  eux  est  mon  fiaince. 


II  est  parti  pom?  I'Aquitaine 

Comme  timbalier,  et  pourtant 
On  le  prend  pour  un  capitaine, 
Rien  qu'^  voir  sa  mine  hautaine, 
Et  son  pourpoint  d'or  eclatant. 

Depuis  ce  jour  I'effroi  m'agite ; 

J'aidit,joignaut  son  sort  au  mien, 
"  Ma  patronne,  Sainte  Brigitte, 
Pour  que  jamais  il  ne  le  quitte, 

Sui-veillez  son  ange  gai:dieu !" 

J'ai  dit  Jk  notre  abb^,  "  Messire, 

Priezbienpourtousnos  soldats!" 
Et  comme  on  S9ait  qu'il  le-  desire, 
J'ai  brfile  trois  cierges  de  cire 
Sur  la  chSsse  de  Saint  Gildas. 

A  Notre  Dame  de  Lorette 

J'ai  promis,  dams  mon  noir  cha- 
grin, 
D'attacher  sur  ma  gorgerette, 
TermSe  ^  la  vue  indisorette,, 

Les  coquilles  du  pelerin. 


A  Ballad. 

My  Uege,  the  Duke  of  Brittany, 
Has  summon' d  bis  vaasals  all. 

The  list  is  a  lengthy  litany ! 

Nor  'mong  them  shall  ye  meet  any 
But  lords  of  land  and  hall. 

Baroms,  who  dwell  in  donjon-keep, 
And  maQ-cIad  count  and  peer, 

Whose   fief  is   fenced   with  fosse 
deep  ; 

But  none  excel  in  soldiership 
My  own  loved  cymbaleer. 

Clashing  his  cymbals  forth  he  went. 
With  a  bold  and  gallant  bearing  ; 
Sure  for  a  captain  he  was  meant. 
To  judge  from  his  accoutrement, 
AJaA.  the  cloth  of  gold  he's  weair- 
ing. 

But  in  my  soul  since  then  I  feel 

A  fear,  in  secret  creeping  ; 
And  to  Saint  Bridget  oft  I  kneel. 
That  she  may  recommend'  bis  weal 
To  his  guardian  angel's  keeping. 

I've  begged  oiar  abbot,  Bemardine, 

His  prayers  not  to  relax ; 
And,  to  procure  him  aid  divine, 
I've  burnt  upon  Saint  Qilda's  shi-ine 
Three  pounds  of  virgin  wax. 

Our  Lady  of  Loretto  knows 
The  pilgrimage  I  vow'd : 
"  To  wear  the  scollop  I  propose, 
If  health  and  safety  from  the  foes 
My  lover  is  aUavi'd2' 


308 


rATHEE  peotjt's  eeliques. 


II  n'a  pu,  par  d'amoureux  gages, 

Absent,  consoler  mes  foyers  ; 
Pour  porter  les  tendres  messages 
La  Tassale  n'a  point  de  pages, 
Le  vassal  n'a  point  d'gcuyers. 

II  doit  aujourd'hui  de  la  guerre 
Revenir  avec  monseigneiu' — 

Ce  n'est  plus  un  amant  Tulgaire ; 

Je  leve  un  front  baissg  nagu^re, 
Et  mou  orgueil  est  du  bonheur. 


Le  due  triomphaut,  nous  rapporte 
Son    drapeau    dans    les    camps 
froissfi ; 
Venez  tous,  sous  la  vieille  porte, 
Voir  passer  la  brillante  escorte, 
Et  le  prince  et  mon  fiance ! 

Venez  Toir,  pour  ce  jour  de  fete. 

Son  cheTal  caparayonS ; 
Qui  sous  son  poids  hennit,  s'arr^te, 
Et  marohe  en  secouant  la  t^te, 

De  plumes  rouges  couronn^. 


Mes  soeurs,  Si  vous  parer  trop  lentes, 
Venez  voir,  pr^s,  de  mon  vain- 
queur, 
r!es  tim  bales  6tincelantes 
Qui,  sous  sa  main  toujours  trem- 
blfintes, 
Sonnent,  et  font  boudir  le  coeur. 

Venez  surtout  le  Toir  lui-meme. 
Sous  le  manteau  que  jai  brod^ ! 

Qu'il   sera  beau!      C'est  lui   que 
j'aime ; 

II  porte  comme  un  diademe 
Son  casque  de  crins  inondes ! 


L'Egyptienne  sacrilege, 

M'attirant  derri6re  un  piUer, 
M'a  dit  bien  (Dieu  me  protege !) 


No  letter  (fond  affection's  gage !) 

Prom  him  could  I  require, 
The  pain  of  absence  to  assuage— 
A  Tassal-maid  can  have  no  page^ 
A  liegeman  has  no  squire. 

This  day  will   witness,  with  the 
duke's, 
My  cymbaleer's  return  : 
GHadness  and  pride  beam  in  my 

looks. 
Delay  my  heart  impatient  brooks, 
All  meaner  thoughts  I  spurn. 

Back  from  the  battle-field  elate. 
His  banner  brings  each  peer  j 

Come,  let  us  see,  at  the  ancient 
gate, 

The  martial  triumph  pass  in  state, 
And  the  duke  and  my  cymbaleer. 

We'll  see  fiiom  the  rampart-walls  of 
Nantz 
What  an  air  his  horse  assumes ; 
His  proud  neck   swells,  his  glad 

hoofs  prance. 
And  on  his  head  unceasing  dance, 
In  a  gorgeous  tuft,  red  plumes ! 

Be   quick,   my   sisters !   dress  in 
haste! 
Come,  see  him  bear  the  bell, 
With  laurels  deck' d,  with  true-lote 

graced  ; 
While  in  his  bold  hand,  fitly  placed, 
The  bounding  cymbals  swell ! 

Mark  well  the  mantle  that  he'll 
wear. 
Embroider' d  by  his  Jbride. 
Admire    his    burnish'd    helmet's 

glare, 
O'ershadow'd  by  the  dark  horse- 
hair 
That  waves  in  jet  folds  wide ! 

The  gipsy  (spiteful  wench!)  foretold 
With  voice  like  a  viper  hissing, 
(Though  I  had  croas'd  her  ps3m 
with  gold), 


THE    SON&S   OP   TBANCE. 


309 


Qu'k.  la  fanfare  du  oort&ge 
II  manquerait  un  timbalier, 

Mais  j'ai  tant  pri^  que  j'espfere. 

Quoique,  me  montrant  de  la  main 
Un  sepulcre,  son  noir  repaire, 
La  TieiUe,  aux  regards  de  vipfire, 

M'ait  dit  je  I'attends  ]k  demain. 

Volous  r  pltis  de  noires  pens&s ! 

Ce  sont  les  tambours  que  j'en- 
tends! 
Yoici  les  dames  entassees, 
Les  tentes  de  pourpre  dressees, 

Les  fleurs  et  les  drapeaux  flottans! 

Sur  deux  rangs  le  cortege  ondoie : 
D'abord,  les    piquiers    aux  pas 
lourds  ; 
Puis,  sous  r^tendard  qu'on  deploie, 
Les  barons,  en  robes  de  soie, 
Avec  leurs  toques  de  velours. 

Voiei  les  chasubles  des  pr§tres ; 

Lesherauts  sur  un  blanccoursier; 
Tous,  en  souTenir  des  ancetres, 
Portent  I'eeuBson  de  leurs  maltres 

Peint  sur  leur  corselet  d'acier. 

Admirez  I'armure  Persanne 

Des  Templiers,  craints  del'enfer; 
Et,  sous  la  longue  pertuisane, 
Les  archers  veins  de  Lausanne, 
VStus  de  buffle,  armfe  de  fer. 

Le  due  n'est  pas  loin :  ses  bannieres 

Flottent  parmi  les  chevaliers  j 
Quelques  enseignes  prisonniSres, 
Honteuses,  passent  les  demi^res. 
Mes  soBurs!  voicilestimbaUers!" 


Elle  dit,  et  sa  vue  errante 

Plonge,   helas!  dans  les    rangs 


Xhat  from  the  rauks  a  spirit  bold 
Would  be  to-day  found  missing. 

But  I  have  pray'd  so  hard,  I  trust 

Her  words  may  prove  untrue  j 
Though  in  her  cave  the  hag  accurst 
Mutter'd   "  Prepare    thee   for  the, 
worst!" 
With  a  face  of  ghastly  hue. 

My  joy  her  spells  shall  not  prevent. 

Hark  I  I  can  hear  the  drums ! 
And  ladies  fair  from  silken  tent 
Peep  forth,  and  every  eye  is  bent 

On  the  cavalcade  that  comes  ! 


Puis,  dans  la  foule  indifferente 
Elle  tomba,  froide  et  mourante  !- 
Les  timbaliers  etaicnt  passes. 


Pikemen,  dividing  on  both  flanks. 

Open  the  pageantry ; 
Loud,  as  they  tread,  their  armour 

clanks, 
And    silk-robed  barons   lead   the 
ranks. 
The  pink  of  gallantry ! 

Li  scarfs  of  gold,  the  priests  admire ; 

The  herald  on  white  steeds  ; 
Armorial  pride  decks  their  attire. 
Worn  in  remembrance  of  a  sire 

Pamed  for  heroic  deeds. 

Fear'd  by  the  Paynim's  dark  divan. 
The  Templars  next  advance ; 

Then  the  brave  bowmen  of  Lau- 
sanne, 

Foremost  to  stand  in  battle's  van. 
Against  the  foes  of  France. 

Kext  comes  the  duke  with  radiant 
brow, 
Girt  with  his  cavaliers  ; 
Bound  his  triumphant  banner  bow 
Those  of  the  foe.     Look,  sisters, 
now ! 
Now  come  the  cymbaleers  I" 

She  spoke — with  searching  eye  sur- 

vey'd 
Their  ranks — then  pale,  aghast, 
Sunk  in  the  crowd !    Death  came 

in  aid — 
'Twas  mercy  to  that  gentle  maid ; 
The  cymbaleers  had  pass'd!" 


310 


FATHEE  PROri's   EELIQTJES. 


By  way  of  contrast  to  the  Gothic  reminiscences  of  the 
olden  time,  and  the  sentimental  delicacy  of  the  foregoing^ 
ballad,  I  subjoin  a  modern  description  of  Grallic  chivalry, — 
a  poetical  sketch  of  contemporary  heroism.  Nothing  can  be 
more  striking  than  the  change  which  seems  to  have  come 
over  the  spirit  of  the  military  dreams  of  the  French  since 
the  days  of  Lancelot  and  Bayard,  if  we  are  to  adopt  this 
as  an  authentic  record  of  their  present  sentiments  in  mat- 
ters of  gallantry.  I  cannot  tell  who  the  author  or  authoress 
of  the  following  dithyramb  may  be ;  but  I  have  taken  it 
down  as  I  have  heard  it  sung  by  a  fair  girl  who  would  some- 
times condescend  to  indulge  an  old  cilibataire  with  a  snatch 
of  merry  music. 


%a  Cantere  iiMtlttatre 

En  France, 

Ah,  le  bel  etat ! 

Que  Viiaii  de  soldat ! 
Battre,  aimer,  chanter,  et  boire — 
Voila  toute  notre  histoire ! 

Et,  ma  foi, 

Moi  je  crois 
Que  cet  etat-ll  vaut  bieu 
Celui  de  tant  de  gens  qui  ne  font 

rien! 

Yainquers,  entrons-nous  dans  une 
fille? 
Les  autorit^s  et  les  habitans 
Nous  viennent,   d'uue  fa90U   fort 
civile, 
Ouvrir  les  portes  k  ^eux  battans : 
O'est  tout  au  plus  s'Hs  sont  con- 
tens  ; 
Mais  o'est  tout  de  meme — 
H  faut  qu'on  nous  aime — 
Ban,  tan,  plan ! 
Ou  bien  qu'on  en  fasae  semblant. 
Puis  quandvient  le  clairde  lune, 
Chacun  choisit  sa  chacune. 
En  quAlite  de  conquSrant. 

Ban,  tan,  plan ! 
Ah,  le  bel  £tat,  etc. 


In  France. 

Oh,  the  pleasant  life  a  soldier  leads  1 
Let  the  lawyer  count  his  fees, 
Let  old  women  teU  their  beads, 
Let  each  booby  squire  breed  cattle, 
if  he  please, 
Ear  better  'tis,  I'  think, 
To  make  love,  fight,  and  drink. 
Odds  boddekin ! 
Such  life  makes  a  man  to  a  god 
akin. 

Do  we  enter  any  town  ? 
The  portcuUis  is  let  down. 
And  the  joy-bells  are  rung  by  mu- 
nicipal authority ; 
The  gates  are  opeu'd  wide, 
And  the  city-keys  presented  us 
beside. 
Merely  to  recognize  our  vast  supe- 
riority. 
The  married  citizens,  'tis  ten  to 

one, 
Woiild  wish  US  fairly  gone ; 
But  we  stay  while  it  suit^  our  good 
pleasure. 
Then  each  eve,  at  the  rising  of  the 

moon. 
The  fiddler  strikes  up  a  merry  tune, 
We  meet  a  buiom  partnerf  uJlBOon, 
And  we  foot  it  to  a  military  measure. 
[Chorus  ofdruim. 


THE    SONBS    or   FBANCE. 


311 


Mais  c'est  quand  nous  quittons  la 
viUe 
Qu'il  faut  voir  I'effet  des  adieux  ; 
Et  toutes  les  femmes  h,  la  file 
Se  lamenter  iquimieux.mieiix — 
C'est  uue  riviere  que  leurs  yeux. 
"  Eeviens  t'en  bien  vite  !" 
Oui  da,  ma  petite  ! 
Le  plus  souvent, 
lie  plus  souvent, 
Je  ne  suis  pas  pour  le  sentiment. 
Ban,  tan,  plan ! 
Vive  le  regiment  I 


Et  pvds  lorsqu'en  maraude, 

Chacun  r6de  alentour ; 
On  va,  le  sabre  a  la  main,  en 
fraude, 
Paire  la  chasse  k  la  basse-cour. 
Faut  bien  que  chaque  victime  ait 
son  tour — 
Foulles  innocentes ! 
Interessantes ! 
Sans  retour !  sans  retour ! 
Helas !  toUeL  votre  dernier  jour ! 

Ban,  tan,  plan! 
Cot !  cot !  cot !  la  sentinelle 
Vous  appele ! 
EUes  passent  la  tete  et  caquetant, 
Et  s'en  vent  a  la  broche  du  regi- 
ment. 


Puis,  a  notre  retour  en  France, 
Chaque  village,  en  goguette,  en 
danse, 
Nous  re^oit,  coeur  et  tambour  bat- 
tans — 
Tic,  tac,  ran,  tan,  plan ! 
En  I'honneur  du  regiment. 
Ah,  le  bel  etat ! 
Que  r^tat  de  soldat ! 


When  our  garrison  at  last  gets  "  the 
rout," 
Wlio  can  adequately  tell 
The  regret  of  the  fair  all  the  city 
throughout, 
And  the  tone  with  ■which  they  bid 
us  "farewell?" 
Their  tears  would  make  a  flood — a 
perfect  river : 
And,  to  soothe  her  despair. 
Bach  disconsolate  maid  entreats  of 

us  to  give  her, 
Ere  we  go,  a  single  lock  of  our  hair. 
Alas  !  it  is  not  often 
That  my  heart  can  soften 
Besponsive  to  the  feelings  of  the  fair ! 
[Chorus  of  drums. 

On  a  march,  when  our  gallant  divi 
sions 
In  the  country  make  a  halt, 
Think  not  that  we  limit  our  provi- 
sions 
To  Paddy's  fare,  "potatoes  and 

salt." 
Could  such  beggarly  cheer 
Ever  answer  a  French  grenadier  ? 
Ifo !  we  send  a  dragoon  guard 
To   each   neighbouring  farm- 
yard. 
To  collect  the  choicest  pioMngs — 
Turkeys,  sucking-pigs,  and  chick- 
ens. 
For  why  should  mere  rustic  rapscal- 
lions 
Fatten  on  such  tit-bits, 
Better  suited  to  the  spits 
Of  our  hungry  and  valorous  bat- 
talions ? 

But,  oh !  at  our  return 
To  our  dear  native  France, 
Each  village  in  its  turn. 
With  music,  and  vdne,  and  merry 
dance. 
Forth  on  our  joyful  passage  comes  j 
And  the  pulse  of  each  heart  beats 
tidie  to  the  drums. 

[Chorus  of  drums. 
Oh,  the  merry  life  a  soldier  leads ! 


312  I'ATHEE  PEOTIT'S   BELIQTTES. 

The  military  songs  of  this  merry  nation  are  not  all,  how- 
ever, of  the  light  teitTire  of  the  foregoing,  in  proof  of  which 
I  subjoin  an  elegy  on  Colonel  de  Beaumanoir,  Idlled  in  the 
defence  of  Pondicherry,  when  that  last  stronghold  of  French 
power  in  India  was  beleagured  by  our  forces  under  Coote. 
Beaumanoir  belonged  to  an  old  family  in  Brittany,  and  had 
levied  a  regiment  of  his  tenants  and  dependants  to  join  the 
unfortunate  Lally  Tolendal  when  he  sailed  for  India,  in 
1749  :  one  of  his  retainers  must  have  been  the  vn"iter  of  the 
foUowiag  lines  descriptive  of  his  hasty  burial  in  the  north 
bastion  of  the  fortress  where  he  fell.  Nor  is  it  necessary  to 
add  any  translation  of  mine,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Wolfe  having  re- 
produced them  on  the  occasion  of  Sir  John  Moore's  falling 
at  Corunna  under  similar  circumstances. 

Eed  JFunerailled  De  33eaumanotr. 

Commonly  known  as  "  The  Burial  of  Sir  John  Moore." 

Ni  le  son  du  tambour  ni  la  marche  fanebre 
Ni  le  feu  des  soldats  ne  marqua  son  trepas, 

Mais  du  brave  il  la  hate  k  travel's  les  tenebres 
Mornes  nous  portS,mes  le  cadavre  au  rampart. 

De  minuit  c'etait  I'heure  et  solitaire  et  sombre 

La  lune  offrait  i  peine  un  dubile  rayon 
La  lanteme  luisait  peniblement  dans  1' ombre 

Quand  de  la  bayonette  on  creusa  le  gazon. 

D'inutile  cercueil  ni  de  drap  funeraire, 

Nous  ne  daignSmes  point  entourer  le  heros, 

n  gisait  dans  les  plis  du  manteau  militaire, 

Comme  un  guerrier  qui  dort  son  heure  de  repos. 

La  priere  qu'on  fit  fut  de  courte  dur&e, 
Nul  ne  parla  de  deuQ  bien  que  le  oceur  fut  plein, 

Mais  on  fixait  du  mort  la  figure  ador^e, 

Mais  avec  amertume  on  songeait  au  demain, 

Au  demain  quand  ioi  oil  sa  fosse  s'  apprete 
Oil  son  humide  lit  on  dresse  aveo  sanglots, 

L'  ennemi  orgueilleux  pourra  fouler  sa  tSte, 
Et  nous  ses  veterans  serons  loin  sur  les  flots. 

lis  temiront  sa  gloire !  on  pourra  les  entendre 
Nommer  I'illustre  mort  d'un  ton  amer  ou  fol, 

H  les  laissera  dire,  eh!  qu'  importe  a  sa  eendre, 
Que  la  main  d'lm  Breton  a  confiee  au  sol. 


THE    SONGS    OP  PEANCE.  313 

L'oeuvre  diirait  encore  quand  retentit  la  oloelie, 
Au  sommet  du  Befroi  et  le  canon  lointain, 

Tire  par  intervaEe  en  annon^ant  I'approehe, 
Signalait  la  fierte  de  I'ennemi  hautain, 

Et  dans  sa  fosse  alors  le  mimes  lentement 
Fres  du  champ  oil  sa  gloire  a  et^  consommie, 

Ne  mismes  a  I'endroit  nl  pierre  ni  monument, 
Le  laiasant  seul  a  seul  arec  sa  renommee. 

But  my  page  is  filling  fast,  and  my.'appoiated  measure  is 
nearly  replenished.  Adieu,  then,  to  the  "  Songs  of  France !" 
Eeminiscences  of  my  younger  .life  L  traditions  . of  poetic 
Gaul !  language  of  impassioned  feeling !  cultivated  elegance 
of  ideas  and  imagery !  bold,  gay,  fantastic  picturings  of  so- 
cial existence  ! — farewell !  Tou  have  been  to  me  the  source 
of  much  enjoyment,  much  mental  luxury,  much  intellectual 
revelry, — farewell !  Tet'  still,  like  Ovid  quitting  Eome  for 
Scythiai — 

"  Seepfe  vale  dio;ns,  multitm  sura  deinde  loeutusj , 
Bt  quasi  discedens  oscula  sumtna  dedi : 
Indulgens  animo,  pesmihi  tardiis 'erat"^ 

loath  to  depart,  I  have  once  more  opened  the  volume  of  the 
enchanter,  and  must  indulge  myself  iu'  a  last  lingering  look 
at  one — ^perhaps  the  loftiest  of  B^ranger's  lays.  It  is  ad- 
dressed by  him  to  a  fair  incognita  ;  but  ia  my  vel-sion  I  have 
taken  the  liberty  of  giving  a  more  intelligible  a,nd,  I  fear 
not  to  add,  more  appropriate  direction  to  the  splendid 
allegory. 

A   Corinne  de  L******. 

Je  veui  pour  vous  prendre  un  toil  moins  frivole, 

Corinne !  il  fut  des  anges  r^voltes  : 
Dieu  sur  leur  front  fait  tomber  sa  parole, 

Et  dans  l'abime.ils  soht  precipites, 
Doux,  mais  fragile,  un  seul  dans  leur  Aiine, 

Contre  ses  maux  garde  un  puissant  secours, 
H  reste  arme  de  sa  lyre  divine — 

Ange  aux  yeux  bleux,  protegez-moi  toujbiirs ! 

L'enfer  miigit  d'un  effroyable  rire, 

Quand,  d^goflte  de  I'orgueil  des  m^oHans, 

L'ange,  qui  pleure  en  accordant  sa  lyre, 
I'ait  ^clater  sea  remords  et  ses  chants. 


314  TATHBE  PEOTIT'B  EELIQUES. 

Dieu  d'un  regard  rarrache  au  goui&e  immonde, 
Mais  ici  bas  veut  qu'il  charme  nos  jours  j 

La  Poesie  enivrera  le  monde — 

Ange  aux  yeux  bleus,  protegez-moi  toujoura  I 

Vers  nouB  il  vole,  en  secouant  sea  ailes, 

Comme  I'oiseau  que  I'orage  a  mouille  ; 
Soudain  la  terre  entend  des  Toii  nouvelles, 

Maint  peuple  errant    s'arr^te  ^merreill^. 
Tout  culte  alors  n'etait  que  I'harmonie — 

Aux  cieui  jamais  Dieu  ne  dit,  "  Soyez  sourds  !" 
L'antel  s'fepure  aux  parfums  du  genie  ! — 

Ange  aui  yeux  bleus,  prot%ez-moi  toujours ! 

En  vain  I'enfer,  des  clamenrs  de  I'envie, 

Pourauit  cet  ange,  ^chappe  de  oes  rangs  ; 
De  rhomme  inculte  il  adouoit  la  Tie, 

Et  sous  le  dais  montre  au  doigt  les  tyrans. 
Tandis  qu'^  tout  sa  Toix  pr^tant  des  oharmes, 

Court  jusqu'au  p61e  eveiUer  les  amours ; 
Dieu  compte  au  ciel  ce  qu'E  sfeohe  de  larmes  ! — 

Ange  aux  yeux  bleus,  protegez-moi  toujours ! 

Qui  peut  me  dire  oil  luit  son  aureole  ? 

De  son  exU  Dieu  I'a-t-il  rappele  ? 
Mais  Tous  ehantez,  mais  Totre  voix  console — 

Corinne,  en  tous  I'ange  s'est  d^ToUe ! 
Votre  printema  Teut  dea  fleurs  eterneUes, 

Votre  beautd  de  celestes  atours  ; 
Pour  un  long  toI  tous  deployez  tos  ailes  ! — 

Ange  aux  yeux  bleus,  protegez-moi  toujours ! 


Ci)e  ^ngel  of  J^onrp. 

To  L.  E.  L. 

Lady !  for  thee  a  holier  key  shall  harmonise  the  chord — 
In  HeaTcn's  defence  Omnipotence  drew  an  aTenging  sword ; 
But  when  the  bolt  had  crush' d  reTolt,  one  angel,  fair  though  frail, 
Betain'd  his  lute,  fond  attribute !  to  charm  that  gloomy  Tale. 
The  lyre  he  kept  his  wild  hand  swept ;  the  music  he'd  awaken 
Would  sweetly  thrill  from  the  lonely  hill  where  he  sat  apart  forsaken  I 
There  he'd  lament  his  banishment,  his  thoughts  to  grief  abandon, 
And  weep  his  full.     'Twaa  pitiful  to  see  him  weep,  fair  Landon ! 

He  wept  his  fault !     Hell's  gloomy  vault  grew  vocal  with  his  song  j 
But  aJl  throughout  derision's  shout  burst  from  the  guilty  throng  ; 
God  pitying  view'd  hia  fortitude  in  that  unhaUow'd  den  j 
Eree'd  him  from  heU,  but  bade  him  dwell  amid  the  sons  of  men. 


THE    SONGS    OP   PEAITOE.  313 

Lady !  for  us,  an  exile  thus,  immortal  Poesy 
Came  upon  earth,  and  lutes  gave  birth  to  sweetest  minstrelsy ; 
And  poets  wrought  their  speUwords,  taught  by  that  angelic  mind, 
And  music  lent  soft  blandishment  to  fascinate  mankind. 

Religion  rose !  man  sought  repose  in  the  shadow  of  her  wiags  ; 
Music  for  her  walked  harbinger,  and  Grenius  touch' d  the  strings  : 
Tears  from  the  tree  of  Araby  cast  on  her  altar  bum'd, 
But  earth  and  ware  most  fragrance  gave  where  Poetry  sojoum'd. 
Vainly,  with  hate  inveterate,  hell  labour'd  in  its  rage. 
To  persecute  that  angel's  lute,  and  cross  his  pilgrimage ; 
TTnmov'd  and  calm,  his  songs  pour'd  balm  on  sorrow  aU  the  while  ; 
Vice  he  immask'd,  but  virtue  bask'd  ia  the  radiance  of  his  smUe. 

O  where,  among  the  fair  and  young,  or  in  what  kingly  court, 
In  what  gay  path  where  Pleasure  hath  her  favourite  resort. 
Where  hast  tiiou  gone,  angehc  one  ?     Back  to  thy  native  skies  ? 
Or  dost  thou  dwell  in  cloister'd  cell,  in  pensive  hermit's  guise  ? 
Methinks  I  ken  a  denizen  of  this  our  island — nay, 
Leave  me  to  guess,  fair  poetess  !  queen  of  the  matchless  lay ! 
The  thriUing  line,  lady  !  is  thine  ;  the  spirit  pure  and  free  ; 
And  England  views  that  angel  muse,  Landon !  reveal'd  in  thee  ! 


No.   XI. 

THE   SONGS  or  ITALY. 

Chaptee  I. 

"  Latiiis  opinione  disseminatum  est  hoc  malum  :  manavit  non  soHim 
per  G-alliam,  sed  ctiam  transcendit  Alpes,  et  obscure  serpens  multaa 
jam  provincias  occupavit."  Ciceeo  in  Calilinam,  Or.  IV. 

Starting  from  !France,  across  Mount  Cenis, 

Prout  visits  Mantua  and  Venice  j 

Through  many  a  timeful  province  stroUs, 

"  Smit  with  the  love  "  of  barcarolles. 

Petrarca's  ghost  he  conjures  up, 

And  with  old  Dante  quaffs  a  cup ; 

Next,  from  her  jar  Etruscan,  he 

Uncorks  the  muse  of  Tuscany.  O.  Y. 

Eeom  the  contents  of  "  the  chest"  hitherto  put  forth  by  uh 
to  the  gaze  of  a  discriminating  public,  the  sagacious  glance 


316  FATHEB  PEOTTT's   EEIIQUEB. 

of  the  critic,  unless  bis  eye  happen  to  be  somehow  "  by 
drop  serene  or  dim  suffusion  veiled,"  must  have  scanned 
pretty  accurately  the  peculiar  cast  and  character  of  old 
Prout's  genius.  Though  somewhat  "  Protean"  and  multi- 
form, delighting  to  make  his  posthumous  appearance  in  a 
diversity  of  fanciful  shapes,  he  is  stiU  discoverable  by  cer- 
tain immutable  features  ;  and  the  identity  of  miad  and  pur- 
pose reveals  itself  throughout  this  vast  variety  of  manifest- 
ation. An  attentive  perusal  of  his  "Papers"  (of  which 
we  have  now  drawn  forth  eleven,  hoping  next  month  to  crack 
the  last  bottle  of  the  sparkling  dozen)  will  enable  the  reader 
to  detect  the  secret  workings  of  his  spirit,  and  discover  the 
"bee's  wing"  in  the  transparent  decanter  of  his  soul. 
Prout's  candour  and  frankness,  his  bold,  fearless  avowal  of 
each  inward  conviction,  his  contempt  for  quacks  and  pe- 
dants, his  warm  admiration  of  disinterested  patriotism  and 
intellectual  originality,  cannot  but  be  recognised  throughout 
his  writings  :  he  is  equally  enthusiastic  in  his  predilections, 
and  stanch  in  his  antipathies.  Of  his  classical  namesake, 
Proteus,  it  has  been  observed  by  Virgil,  that  there  was  no 
catching  him  in  any  definite  or  tangible  form ;  as  he  con- 
stantly shifted  his  position,  and,  vrith  the  utmost  violation 
of  consistency,  became  at  turns  "  a  pig,"  "  a  tiger,"  or  "  a 
serpent,"  to  suit  the  whim  of  the  moment  or  the  scheme  of 
the  hour : 

"  Fiet  enim  subitd  sus  horridus,  atrave  tigria, 
SfjuamosuBve  draco."  Georyic.  IV. 

But  in  all  the  impersonations  of  the  deceased  P.  P.  of 
Watergrasshill  the  man  is  never  lost  sight  of ;  it  is  still  he, 
whether  he  be  viewed  shewing  his  tusks  to  Tommy  Moore, 
or  springing  like  a  tiger  on  Dr.  Lardner's  vdg,  or  lurking 
like  a  bottle-imp  in  Brougham's  brandy -flask,  or  coiled  up 
like  a  rattle-snake  in  the  begging-box  of  O'ConneU. 

But  still  he  delights  to  tread  the  peaceful  paths  of  lite- 
rature ;  and  it  is  then,  indeed,  that  he  appears  in  his  proper 
element.  Of  all  the  departments  of  that  interesting  pror 
vince,  he  has  selected  the  field  of  popular  poetry  for  his 
favourite  haunt.  "  Smitten,"  like  old  Milton,  "  with  the 
love  of  sacred  song,"  he  lingers  with  "  fond,  reluctant,  amo- 
rous delay,"  amid  the  tuneful  "groves."     Ballad-singing 


THE    SON&S    or    ITALY.  317 

was  his  predominant  passion.  In  his  youth  he  had  visited 
almost  every  part  of  the  continent ;  and  though  not  unob- 
servant of  other  matters,  nor  unmindful  of  collateral  inquu'ies, 
he  made  the  songs  of  each  country  the  ohject  of  a  most  di- 
ligent investigation.  Among  the  tenets  of  his  peripatetic 
philosophy,  he  had  adopted  a  singular  theory,  viz.  that  the 
true  character  of  a  people  must  be  collected  from  their 
"  songs."  Impressed  with  this  notion,  to  use  the  words  of 
the  immortal  Edmund  Burke,  "  he  has  visited  all  Europe  ; 
not  to  survey  the  sumptuousness  of  palaces,  or  the  stateli- 
ness  of  temples  ;  not  to  make  accurate  measurement  of  the 
remains  of  ancient  grandeur,  nor  to  form  a  scale  of  the 
curiosities  of  modern  art;  not  to  collect  medals,  or  to  collate 
MSS. :  but  to  pick  up  the  popular  tunes,  and  make  a  col- 
lection of  song-books ;  to  cuU  from  the  minstrelsy  of  the 
cottage,  and  select  from  the  bacchanalian  joviality  of  the 
vintage  ;  to  compare  and  collate  the  Tipperary  bagpipe  with 
the  Cremona  fi'ddle;  to  remember  the  forgotten  and  attend 
to  the  neglected  ballads  of  foreign  nations  ;  and  to  blend  in 
one  harmonious  system  the  traditionary  songs  of  all  men  in 
all  countries.  It  was  a  voyage  of  discovery,  a  circumnavi- 
gation of  melody." 

Lander  and  Mungo  Park  have  traced  the  course  of  the 
Niger :  Bruce  and  Belzoni  the  sources  of  the  Nile ;  Sterne 
journeyed  in  pursuit  of  the  sentimerdal,  Syntax  in  search  of 
the  picturesque  ;  Eustace  made  a  "  classical"  tour  through 
Italy,  Bowring  an  "utilitarian"  excursion  through  France: 
but  we  greatly  miscalculate  if  the  public  do  not  prefer,  for 
all  the  practical  purposes  of  life.  Front's  "tuneful"  pil- 
grimage. Any  accession  to  the  general  stock  of  harmony, 
anything  to  break  the  monotonous  sameness  of  modern 
literature,  must  be  hailed  with  a  shout  of  welcome  ;  and  in 
the  Watergrasshill  chest  we  possess  an  engine  of  melodious 
power,  far  preferable  to  the  hackneyed  barrel-organs  that 
lull  and  stultify  the  present  generation.  The  native  Irish 
have  at  all  times  been  remarkable  for  a  keen  perception  of 
musical  enjoyment,  and  it  therefore  is  not  astonishing  that 
the  charms  of  sweet  sound  should  have  so  fascinated  the 
youthful  mind  of  our  hero,  as  to  lead  him  captive  from  land 
to  land — a  willing  slave,  chained  to  the  triumphal  chariot 


318  FATHEE  PEOTJT'S   EELIQIJES. 

of  Polyliymiiia.    His  case  has  been  graphically  put  by  a 
modern  -writer  (not  Hogg) — 

"  When  I  was  a  boy  in  my  father's  mud  edifice, 
Tender  and  bare  as  a  pig  in  a  sty, 
Out  of  the  door  as  I  looked,  with  a  steady  phiz. 
Who  but  Thade  Murphy  the  piper  went  by  ! 

'Arrah,  Thady !  the  drone  of  your  pipe  so  comes  over  me. 

Naked  I'll  wander  wherever  you  goes ; 
And  if  my  poor  parents  should  want  to  discorer  me. 

Sure  it  wont  be  by  describing  my  clothes  !' ' 

"  Journeying  with  this  intent,"  our  excellent  divine  (as 
may  be  seen  in  the  last  four  numbers  of  Begin  a)  hath  not 
been  idle  in  IVance  ;  having  wreathed  a  garland  of  song, 
cuUed  where  those  posies  grew  wild  on  the  boulevards  of 
Paris,  the  fields  of  Normandy,  and  the  fragrant  hills  of  Pro- 
vence— ^land  of  troubadours.  We  have  now  to  follow  him 
through  other  scenes :  to  view  him  seated  in  a  gondola,  and 
gliding  under  the  "  Bridge  of  Sighs  ;"  or  wandering  on  the 
banks  of  the  Po;  or  treading,  with  pensive  step,  the  MUtonic 
glen  of  VaUombrosa.  Each  guardian  spirit  of  that  hallowed 
soil,  each  tutelary  genius  loci,  the  dryades  of  the  grove  and 
the  naiades  of  the  flood,  exult  at  the  approach  of  so  worthy 
a  visitant,  sent  with  a  special  mission  on  an  errand  of  the 
loftiest  consequences,  and  gifted  with  a  soul  equal  to  the 
mighty  task ;  a  modern  by  birth,  but  an  old  Eoman  ia 
sentiment — 

"  Bedonavit  Quiritem 
Dis  patriis  Italoque  coelo  I" — Hoe.  lib.  ii.  ode  7. 

It  has  been  the  misfortune  of  that  beautiful  peninsula, 
ever  since  the  decline  and  fall  of  the  Roman  empire,  to  have 
been  invaded  by  a  succession  of  barbarians  from  the  North. 
Longobards  and  Ostrogoths,  Alaric  and  Grenseric,  SamEogers 
and  Prederick  Barbarossa,  Attila  king  of  the  Huns,  and 
Leigh  Hunt  king  of  the  Cockneys,  have  already  spread  havoc 
and  consternation  through  that  delightful  country  ;  but  the 
vilest  and  most  unjustifiable  invasion  of  Italy  has  been  per- 
petrated by  Lady  Morgan.  We  know  not  to  what  extent 
impunity  may  be  claimed  by  "  the  sex,"  for  running  riot 
and  playing  the  devil  with  places  and  thiigs  consecrated  by 


THE    SONGS    OF   ITALY.  319 

the  recoUections  of  all  that  is  noble  in  our  nature,  and  ex- 
alted in  the  history  of  mankind ;  but  we  suppose  that  her 
Irish  ladyship  is  privileged  to  carry  on  her  literary  orgies  in 
the  face  of  the  public,  like  her  fair  countrywoman,  Lady 
Barrymore,  of  smashing  notoriety.  Heaven  knows,  she  has 
often  enough  been  "  pulled  up  "  before  the  tribunals  of  criti- 
cism for  her  misdemeanours  ;  still,  we  find  her  repeating  her 
old  offences  with  incorrigible  pertinacity, —  and  Belgium  is 
now  the  scene  of  her  pranks.  She  moreover  continues  to 
besprinkle  her  pages  with  Italian,  of  which  she  knows  about 
as  much  as  of  the  language  of  the  Celestial  Empire ;  for,  let 
her  take  our  word  for  it,  that,  however  acquainted  she  may 
possibly  be  with  the  "  Cruiskeen  lavm,"  she  has  but  a  very 
slight  intimacy  with  the  "  Vocabulario  deUa  Crusca." 

OLIVEE  TOEKE. 

Feb.  1,  1835. 


Watergrasshill,  Fet.  1830. 
DTJEIN&  these  long  wintry  nights,  while  the  blast  howls 
dismally  outside  this  mountain-shed,  and  all  the  boisterous 
elements  of  destruction  hold  a  "  radical"  meeting  on  yonder 
bog, — seated  before  a  snug  turf-fire,  and  having  duly  conned 
over  the  day's  appointed  portion  of  the  Eoman  breviary,  I 
love  to  give  free  scope  to  my  youthful  recoUections,  and 
wander  back  in  spirit  to  those  sunny  lands  where  I  spent 
my  early  years.  Memory  is  the  comforter  of  old  age,  as 
Hope  is  the  guardian-angel  of  youth.  To  me  my  past  Hfe 
seems  a  placid,  a  delightful  dream ;  and  I  trust  that  when  I 
shall,  at  no  distant  moment,  hear  the  voice  which  wiU.  bid 
me  "  awake"  to  the  consciousness  of  enduring  realities,  and 
the  enjoyment  of  immortal  existence,  memory  stiU  may  remain 
to  enhance,  if  possible,  the  fruition  of  beatitude. 

But  a  truce  to  these  solemn  fancies,  which,  no  doubt,  have 
been  suggested  to  my  mind  by  those  homilies  of  Chrysostom 
and  soliloquies  of  Aug^stin  which  I  have  just  now  been  pe- 
rusiag,  in  this  day's  office  of  our  ancient  liturgy.  And  to 
resume  the  train  of  ideas  with  which  I  commenced,  a  few 
minutes  ago,  this  paper  of  "  night-thoughts," — gladly  do  I 
recur  to  the  remembrance  of  that  fresh  and  active  periodof  my 


320  FATHEB  PEOrx'S  EElIQrES. 

long  career,  wien,  buoyant  vfith  juvenile  energy,  and  flushed 
with  life's  joyous  anticipations,  I  passed  from  the  south  of 
France  into  the  luxuriant  lap  of  Italy.  Pull  sixty  years  now 
have  elapsed  since  I  first  crossed  the  Alpine  frontier  of  that 
enchanting  province  of  Europe  ;  but  the  image  of  aU  I  saw, 
and  the  impression  of  aU.  I  felt,  remains  indelible  in  my 
soul.  My  recollections  of  gay  Prance  are  Hvely  and  vivid, 
yet  not  so  deeply  imprinted,  nor  so  glowingly  distinct,  as 
the  picturings  which  an  Italian  sojourn  has  left  on  the 
"  tablets  of  memory."  I  cherish  both;  but  each  has  its  own 
peculiar  attributes,  features,  and  physiognomy.  The  spirituelle 
Madame  de  Sevign^  and  the  impassioned  Beatrice  Oenci  are 
two  very  opposite  impersonations  of  female  character,  but 
they  pretty  accurately  represent  the  notion  I  would  wish  to 
convey  of  my  Italy  and  my  Prance.  There  is  not  more  differ- 
ence between  the  "  Allegro"  and  "  II  Penseroso"  of  Milton. 
Prance  rises  before  me  in  the  shape  of  a  merry-andrew  jing- 
Ung  his  bells,  and  exhibiting  wondrous  feats  of  agility;  Italy 
assumes  the  awful  shape  of  the  spectre  that  stood  before 
Brutus  in  the  camp,  and  promised  to  meet  him  at  Philippi. 

In  those  days  a  Pranciscan  friar,  caUed  GranganeUi 
(Clement  XIV.),  sat  in  the  pontific  chair  ;  and,  sorrowful 
to  tell,  being  of  a  cringing,  time-serving,  and  worldly-minded 
disposition,  did  considerable  damage  to  the  church  over 
which,  in  evil  hour,  he  was  appointed  to  preside.  The 
only  good  act  of  his  I  am  disposed  to  recognise  is  the  ad- 
dition to  the  Vatican  gallery,  called  after  him  the  "  Museum 
Clementinum :"  but  that  was  but  a  poor  compensation  for  the 
loss  which  literature  and  science  sustained  (through  his  in- 
effable folly)  in  the  unwarrantable  destruction  of  that  un- 
rivalled "  order"  of  literati,  the  Jesuits.*  The  sacrifice  was 
avawedly  meant  to  propitiate  the  demon  of  Irreligion,  then 
first  exhibiting  his  presence  in  Prance ;  but,  like  all  such 
concessions  to  an  evil  spirit,  it  only  provoked  further  exi- 
gencies and  more  imperative  demands,  until  TAiLETEAifD, 
by  proposing  in  the  National  Assembly  the  abolition  of 
church  property,  effectually  demolished  the   old  GaUican 

*  A  book  was  in  circulation  called  "  GanganeUi's  Letters  j"  but  it  is 
an  imposition  on  public  credulity,  to  be  classed  in  the  .annals  of  forgery 
alongside  of  Maopherson's  "Ossiau,"  Chatterton'a  "Rowley,"  and  the 
"  Deoretals"  of  Isidorus  Mercator. — Pbout. 


THE    SONGS   or   ITALX.  321 

glories  of  Christianity,  and  extinguislied  tne  lamp  that  had 
burnt  for  ages  before  the  altar  of  our  common  Q-od.  It  was, 
no  doubt,  an  act  of  forgetfulness  in  the  preceding  pope, 
Prosper  Lambertini  (Benedict  XIV.),  to  open  a  corres- 
pondence with  Voltaire,  to  whom,  in  return  for  the  dedi- 
cation of  his  tragedy  of  "  Mahomet,"  he  sent  his  "  apostoli- 
cal blessing ;"  but  it  was  reserved"  for  the  friar-pope  to 
inflict  an  irrecoverable  wound  on  the  cause  of  enlightened 
religion,  by  his  bull  of  the  21st  of  July,  1773. 

I  dweU.  on  this  topic  con  amove,  because  of  my  personal 
feelings  of  attachment  to  the  instructors  of  my  youth  ;  and 
also  because  the  subject  was  often  the  cause  of  a  friendly 
quarrel  between  myself  and  Barry  the  painter,  whom  I  met 
at  Eome,  and  knew  intimately.  He  was  a  "  wild  fellow,"  and, 
by  some  chance,  had  for  me  a  sort  of  confiding  fondness  ; 
owing,  no  doubt,  to  our  being  both  natives  of  Cork,  or,  at 
least,  citizens  thereof :  for  /  was  born  in  Dublin,  as  duly  set 
forth  in  that  part  of  my  autobiography  called  "  Dean  Swift's 
Madness ;  a  Tale  of  a  Chum."  Now  Barry  was  so  taken  with 
GanganelH's  addition  to  the  Vatican  collection,  that  he  has 
placed  him  among  the  shades  of  the  blessed  in  his  picture  of 
Elysium,  at  the  hall  of  the  Adelphi,  London;  giving  a  snug 
berth  in  "hell"  to  Pope  Adrian  IV.,  who  bestowed  Ireland 
on  Henry  II.  I  question  not  the  propriety  of  this  latter 
arrangement ;  but  I  strongly  object  to  the  apotheosis  of 
G-anganeUi. 

This  digression,  however  unconnected  with  the  "  Songs  of 
Italy,"  may  serve  as  a  chronological  landmark,  indicative  of 
the  period  to  which  I  refer  in  my  observations  on  the  poetry 
of  that  interesting  country.  Alfieri  had  not  yet  rekindled 
the  fire  of  tragic  thought ;  Manzoni  had  not  flung  into  the 
pages  of  romantic  narrative  a  pathos  and  an  eloquence  un- 
known to,  an^  undreamt  of,  by  Boccaccio ;  Silvio  PelHco  had 
not  appalled  the  world  with  realities  far  surpassing  romance ; 
Piademonte  had  not  restrung  the  lyre  of  Pilicaia.  But 
Heaven  knows  there  was  enough  of  genius  and  exalted  in- 
spiration in  the  very  oldest  ornaments  Of  Italian  compo- 
sition, in  the  ever- glorious  founders  of  the  Toseana  favella, 
to  render  unnecessary  to  its  triumph  the  subsequent-  corps 
de  rherve,  whose  achievements  in  the  field  of  literature  I  do 
not  seek  to  undervalue. 


322  FATHEE   PKOTTT's   EELIQUES, 

Poets  have  been  the  earliest  writers  ia  every  language 
and  the  first  elements  of  recognized  speech  have  invariably 
been  collected,  arranged,  and  systematised  by  the  Muse. 
The  metrical  narrative  of  the  Arabian  Job,  the  record  of 
the  world's  creation  as  sung  by  Hesiod,  the  historical  poetry 
of  Ennius,  the  glorious  vision  of  Dante,  the  songs  of  Mar6t 
and  Malherbe,  the  tales  of  Chaucer,  have  each  respectively 
been  the  earliest  acknowledged  forms  and  models  on  which 
the  Hebrew,  the  Greek,  the  Latin,  the  Italian,  the  French, 
and  the  English  idioms  were  constructed.  I  have  placed ' 
these  six  languages  (the  noblest  and  most  perfect  vehicles 
of  human  intercourse  that  have  ever  existed)  in  the  rotation 
of  their  successive  rise  and  establishment.  Taking  them 
chronologically,  the  Hebraic  patent  of  precedency  is  im- 
doubted.  The  travels  of  Hesiod,  Homer,  and  Herodotus, 
through  Egypt  and  Asia  INIinor,  sufficiently  explain  the 
subsequent  traces  of  that  oriental  idiom  among  the  Greeks  ; 
the  transmission  of  ideas  and  language  from  Greece  to  Italy 
is  recorded  in  set  terms  by  the  prince  of  Latin  song,  who 
adopts  the  Greek  hexameter  as  well  as  the  topics  of  He- 
siod: 

'        "  Ascrseumque  cano  Eomana  per  oppida  carmen." 

Georgie.  II. 

The  Italians,  when  Latin  ceased  to  be  the  European  me- 
dium of  international  communication,  were  the  first  to  form 
out  of  the  ruins  of  that  glorious  parlance  an  idiom,  fixed  as 
early  as  1330,  and  perfect  in  all  its  modern  elegance ; — so 
perfect,  indeed,  as  to  warrant  the  application  to  it  of  the 
exclamation  of  Horace : 

"  0  matre  pulchrS,  filia  pulchrior !" 

Lib.  i.  ode  16. 

France  followed  next  in  the  development  of  its  happy 
vocabulary,  under  Erancis  I. ;  and  England,  imder  the 
reign  of  Queen  Anne,  finally  adopted  its  modern  system 
of  phraseology.  The  literature  of  Germany  is  of  too  mo- 
dern a  growth  for  my  notice.  It  is  scarcely  seventy  years 
old :  I  am  older  myself. 

It  is  a  remarkable  fact,  but  not  the  less  true,  that  Dante 
(who  had  studied  at  the  university  of  Paris,  where  he  main- 


THE   SON&S   OP  ITAIT.  323 

tained  witli  applause  a  thesis,  "  De  omni  Ee  scibili"),  on 
his  return,  to  Italy,  meditating  his  grand  work  of  the  "  Di- 
vilia  Commedia,"  was  a  long  time  undecided  to  what  dialect 
he  shoidd  commit  the  offspring  of  his  prolific  mind.  His 
own  bias  lay  towards  the  Latin,  and  he  even  had  commenced 
in  that  tongue  the  description  of  hell,  the  opening  verse  of 
which  has  been  preserved : 

"  Pallida  regna  caiiam,  fluido  oontenniBa  mundo !" 

But  the  Irish  monis  of  Bobbio,  having  seen  a  specimen  of 
the  poem  in  the  popular  version,  strongly  advised  the  ypung 
poet  to  continue  it  in  the  vernacular  tongue  ;  and  that  deci- 
sion influenced  the  fate  of  Italian  literature. 

Petrarca  is  known  to  have  considerably  underrated  the 
powers  of  Dante,  whose  style  and  manner  he  could  never 
relish :  indeed,  no  two  writers  could  possibly  have  adopted 
a  more  opposite  system  of  composition,  and  out  of  the 
same  materials  constructed  poetry  of  so  distinct  a  charac- 
ter. Rude,  massive,  and  somewhat  uncouth,  the  terza  rima 
of  the  "infernal  laureate"  resembled  the  Doric  temples 
of  Psestum ;  delicate,  refined,  and  elegant,  the  sonnets  of 
Petrarca  assimilate  in  finish  to  the  Ionic  structure  at 
Nismes  dedicated  to  Diana.  But  the  canzoni  of  Laura's 
lover  are  the  most  exquisite  of  his  productions,  and  far  sur- 
pass in  harmony  and  poetic  merit  the  sonetti.  Such  is  the 
opinion  of  Muratori,  and  such  also  is  the  verdict  of  the 
ingenious  author  of  the  "  Secchia  Eapita."  These  canzoni 
are,  in  fact,  the  model  and  the  perfection  of  that  species  of 
song  of  which  the  burden  is  love  ;  and  though  some  modern 
poets  have  gone  farther  in  the  expression  of  mere  animal 
passion  (such  as  Moore  and  Byron),  never  has  woman  been 
addressed  in  such  accomplished  strains  of  eloquence  and 
sentiment  as  Donna  Laura  by  the  hermit  of  Vaucluse. 

There  may  be  some  partiality  felt  by  me  towards  Pe- 
trarca. He  belonged  to  "my  order;"  and  though  the 
unioii  of  the  priest  and  the  poet  (combined  in  the  term 
VATEs)  is  an  old  association,  the  instances  in  the  Eoman 
Catholic  priesthood  have  been  too  rare  not  to  prize  the  soli- 
tary example  of  sacerdotal  minstrelsy  in  the  archdeacon  of 
Parma.  Jerome  Vida,  the  bishop  of  a  small  town  in  Italy, 
was  distinguished  as  a  Latin  poet — 

T  2 


324  FATHEE  PEOTTT'S  EEIiIQTIES. 

"  Immortal  Vida,  on  whose  hsnour'd  brow 
The  critic's  bays  ajid  poet's  ivy  grow ;" 

(Pope,  .Essay  on  Critieiam.)    ' 

and  several  Jesuits  have  felt  the  inspiration  of  the  Muse : 
but  the  excellence  of  Petrarca  as  a  poet  has  caused  his 
theological  acquirements,  which  were  of  the  highest  order, 
to  be  quite  forgotten.  I  was  greatly  amused  Some  days  ago, 
in  turning  over  the  volume  of  BeUarmin,  "  De  Scriptoribus 
Ecclesiasticis,"  to  find  at  page  227  (4ito.  EomaB,  1613)  the 
following  notice  of  the  sonnetteer : 

"  Franciscus  Petrarca,  archidiaconus  Parmensis,  lusit 
elegantissimis  versibus  amores  sues  erga  Lauram,  ut  haberet 
materiam  exercendse  musse ;  sed  tempus  eonsumptum  in  iUis 
cantiunculis  deflevit,  et  multa  opera  gravia  atque  utilia 
scripsit.    Pi6  obiit  1374." 

The  learned  cardiaal,  no  doubt,  valued  much  more  these 
grave  and  useful  worJes,  which  are  doomed  to  lurk  amid 
cobwebs  in  the  monastic  libraries  of  the  continent,  than  the 
exquisite  outpourings  of  soul  and  harmony  which  have  filled 
all  Europe  with  rapture. 

Long  before  I  had  crossed  the  Alps  I  had  been  an  admirer 
of  Petrarca.  My  residence  at  Avignon;  my  familiar  ac- 
quaintance with  the  church  of  St.  Cl9,ir,  where,  ia  his  twenty- 
fifth  year  (TViday,  April  6,  1837),  he  for  the  first  time  saw 
the  Madonna  Laura,  then  aged  seventeen ;  niy  frequent  ex- 
cursions to  the  source  of  that  limpid  torrent,  called  by 
Pliny,  ValHsclausa,  and  by  the  French,  Vaucluse,  had  drawn 
my  attention  to  his  writings  and  his  character.  An  enthu- 
siastic love  of  both  was  the  natural  result ;  and  I  some- 
times, in  the  perusal  of  his  sentiments,  would  catch  the 
contagion  of  his  exquisite  Platonism.  Tes !  Laura,  after 
the  lapse  of  five  centuries,  had  made  a  second  conquest ! 

"  Je  redemandais  Laure  &  r&ho  du  vaUon, 
Et  I'eoho  n'ayait  point  oubM  ce  doux  nom." — SeuiXE. 

It  has  been  said,  that  no  poet's  mistress  ever  attained 
such  celebrity  as  the  Platonic  object  of  Petrarca's  afiec- 
tions :  she  has,  in  fact,  taken  her  place  as  a  fourth  maid  of 
honour  in  the  train  of  "  graces"  that  wait  on  Venus ;  and 
the  romantic  source  of  the  Sorga  has  become  the  Castalian 
spring  of  aU  who  would  write  on  love. 


THE   SONGS   OF   ITALY. 


325 


ana  dTontana  Bi  'Falti&tusa. 

Canaone  di  Francesco  Petrarca. 

Chiare,  fresohe,  e  doloi  aoque, 
Ore  le  belle  membra 
Pose  colei,  che   sola  a  me  par 
domia ; 
GentU  ramo,  ove  piaoque 
(Oon  sospir  mi  rimembra) 
A  lei  di  fere  al  bel  fianco  colomias 
Brba  e  fior,  che  la  gonna 

leggiadra  ricoverse 
Con  1'  angelioo  seno ; 
Aer  sacro  aereno, 
Ov'  amor  co'  begU  ooohi  il  cor  m' 


Date  udienza  inaieme 
AUe  dolenti  mie  parole  estreme. 


S'  eglt  h  pnr  mio  deatino, 
E  '1  cielo  iu  ci6  s'  adopra, 
Ch'  amor  quest'  ocohi  lagrimand 
chiuda; 
Qualche  grazia  il  meachino 
Corpo  fra  Toi  ricopra ; 
E  tomi  r  alma  alproprio  albergo 


La  morte  fia  men  cruda, 
Se  questa  speme  porto 
A  quel  dubbioso  passo  : 
Cbe  lo  epirito  la^ao 
Nou  poria  mai  in  piil  riposato 
porto, 
TSh  'n  pifi  tranquilla  fosaa 
Fuggir  la  came  traragliata  e  1' 


Tempo  verra  anoor  forse, 
Che  air  usato  aoggiomo 
Tomi  la  fera  beUa  e  mansueta ; 
E  la,  't'  ella  mi  scorse 


J^tt-tarf  a'£i  auUreSsf 

To  the  Summer  Haunt  of  Laura. 

Sweet  fountain  of  Vauoluse ! 
The  virgin  freshness  of  whose  crystal 

bed 
The  ladye,  idol  of  my  soul !  hath  led 
Within  thy  wave  her  fairy  bath  to 

choose ! 
And  thou,  O  favourite  tree ! 
Whose  branches  she  loved  best 
To  shade  her  hour  of  rest — 
Her  own  dear  native  land's  green 
mulberry ! 
Boaes,  whose  earKest  bud 
To  her  sweet  bosom  lent 
Fragrance  and  ornament ! 
Zephyrs,  who  fan   the   murmuring 
flood! 
Cool  grove,  sequestered  grot ! 
Here  in  this  lovely  spot 
I  pour  my  laat  sad  lay,  where  first 
her  love  I  wooed. 

If  soon  my  earthly  woes 
Must  slumber  in  the  tomb. 
And  if  my  Hfe's  sad  doom 

Must  so  in  sorrow,  close ! 
Where  yonder  willow  grows, 
Close  by  the  margin  lay 
My  cold  and  lifeleaa  clay,    " 
That  unrequited  love  may  find  repose! 
Seek  thou  thy  native  realm, 
My  soul !  and  when  the  fear 
Of  distolutiou  near, 
And  doubts  shall  overwhelm, 
A  ray  of  comfort  round 

My  dying  couch  shall  hover, 
/      K  some  kind  hand  will  cover 
My  miserable  bones  in  yonder  hal- 
lowed ground ! 

But  still  alive  for  her 
Oft  may  my  ash»8  greet 
The  sound  of  coming  feet ! 
And  Laura's  tread  gladden  my  se- 
pulchre ! 


326 


FATHEE  PEOTT'S  EELIQrBS. 


Nel  benedetto  giomo, 
Volga  la  yista  desiosa  e  lieta 
Cercamdomi ;  ed,  o  pifeta ! 
GKa  terra  in  fra  le  pietre 
Videndo,  amor  1'  inspiri 
In  guisa,  che  sospiri 
Si  dolcemente,  che  merce  m'  im- 
petre, 
E  faocia  forz»  al  cielo, 
Asciugsndosi  gli   occhi   col  bel 
velo. 


Da'  be'  rami  scendea, 
(Dolce  nella  memoria,) 
Una  pioggia  di  fior  sovra  '1  sue 
grembo ; 
Ed  eUa  bI  sedea 
TJmile  in  tanta  gloria, 
CoTerta  gisl  dell'  amoroso  nem- 

bo: 
Qual  fior  cadea  sul  lembo, 
Qual  suUe  treoce  bionde ; 
>  Ch'  oro  forbito,  e  perle 
Eran  quel  di  a  vederle ; 
Qual  si  posara  in  terra,  e  qual 
BuU'  onde; 
Qual  con  un  vago  errore 
Giraudo,  parea  dir,  "  Qui  regna 
Amore." 


Quaute  volte  diss'  io» 
Allor  pien  di  spavento, 
"Costei   per   fermo    nacque   in 
Paradiso ;" 
CobI  caroo  d'  obblio, 
H  divin  portamento, 
E  '1  volto,  e  le  parole,  e  '1  doloe 
riso 
M'  areano,  e  si  diviso 

Dall'  immagine  vera, 
Ch'  io  dicea  Bospirando, 
"  Qui  come  venn'  io,  o  quando  ?" 
Credendo  esser  in  ciel,  nou  1^ 
doy'  era : 


Beienting,  on  my  grave, 

My  mistreBs  may,  perchance, 
With  one  kind  pitying  glance 
Honour  the  dust  of  her  devoted  slave. 
Then  may  she  intercede, 

With  prayer  and  sigh,  for  one 
Who,  hence  for  ever  gone, 
Of  mercy  stands  in  need ; 
And  while  for  me  her  rosary  she 
tells. 
May  her  uplifted  eyes 
Win  pardon  from  the  sMes, 
While  angels  through  her  veil  behold 
the  tear  tlut  swells ! 

Visions  of  love !  ye  dwell 
In  memory  still  enshrined. — 
Here,  as  she  once  reclined, 
A  shower  of  blossoms  on  her  bosom 
fell! 
And  while  th'  enamoured  tree 
Erom  all  its  branches  thus 
Eained  odoriferous. 
She  sat,  unconscious,  all  humihty. 
Mixed  with  her  golden  hair,  those 
blossoms  sweet 
liiie  pearls  on  amber  seemed  j — 
Some  their  aUegianoe  deemed 
Due  to  her  floating  robe  and  lovely 
feet : 
Others,  disporting,  took 
Their  course  adown  the  brook ; 
Others  aloft,  wafted  in  airy  sport, 
Seemed  to  proclaim,  "To-day  Love 
holds  his  merry  court !" 

I've  gazed  upon  thee,  jewel  beyond 
price ! 
Tin  from  my  inmost  soul 
This  secret  whisper  stole — 
"Of  Earth  no  child  art  thou, daughter 
of  Paradise !" 
Such  sway  thy  beauty  held 
O'er  the  enraptured  sense. 
And  such  the  influence 
Of  winning  smile  and  form  unparal- 
leled ! 
And  I  would  marvel  then 
"  How  came  I  here,  and  when, 


THE    SONaS   OF   ITALY.  327 

Da  indi  in  qua  mi  piaoe  Wafted  by  magie  wand, 

Quest'  erba  ei,  eh'  altrove  non  ho  Earth's  narrow  joys  beyond?" 

pace.  O,  I  shall  ever  count 

My  happiest  days  spent  here  by  this 
romantic  fount ! 

In  this  graceful  effiision  of  tender  feelings,  to  which  a 
responsive  chord  must  vibrate  in  every  breast,  and  compared 
with  which  the  most  admired  of  modern  love-ditties  will 
seem  paltry  and  vulgar,  the  tenderness,  the  exalted  passion, 
the  fervid  glow  of  a  noble  heart,  and  the  mysterious  work- 
ings of  a  most  gifted  miad,  exhibit  themselves  in  every 
stanza.  "What  can  be  more  beautifully  descriptive  than  the 
opening  lines,  equalling  in  melodious  cadence  the  sweetest 
of  Horace, 

"  O  fons  Bandusiffi,  splendidior  vitro  ;" 

but  infinitely  superior  in  delicacy  of  sentiment  and  pathetic 
power !  The  calm  melancholy  of  the  succeeding  strophe 
has  been  often  admired,  and  has,  of  course,  found  great 
favour  among  the  Tom  Moores  of  every  country. 

Tom  has  given  us  his  last  dying-speech  in  that  rigmarole 
melody, 

"When  in  death  I  shall  oahu  recline ;" 

but  the  legacy  of  this  bard  is  a  sad  specimen  of  mock-turtle 
pathos,  and,  with  the  affectation  of  tenderest  emotion,  is, 
in  style  and  thought,  repugnant  to  all  notions  of  real  refine- 
ment and  simplicity.  In  the  last  will  of  Petrarca — a  .most 
interesting  document — there  is  a  legacy  which  any  one  may 
be  pardoned  for  coveting ;  it  is  the  poet's  lute,  which  he 
bequeaths  to  a  friend,  with  a  most  affecting  and  solemn  re- 
commendation:  "  Magistro  Thomse  de  Ferrara  lego  ^eM<a»» 
meum  bonum,  ut  eum  sonet  non  pro  vanitate  sseculi  fugacis, 
sed  ad  laudem  Dei  seterni." — (Testament,  Petrar.) 

As  the  Hibernian  melodist  has  had  his  name  thus  smuggled 
into  my  essay  on  the  "  Songs  of  Italy,','  it  may  not  be  irre- 
levant (as  assuredly  it  wiU.  be  edifying)  to  point  out  some 
of  his  "  rogueries"  perpetrated  in  this  quarter.  Not  con-* 
tent  with  picking  the  pockets  of  the  Prench,  he  has  ex- 
tended his  depredations  to  the  very  extremity  of  Calabria. 
Petrarca's  case  is  one  of  peculiar  hardship.    Laura's  lover, 


328  FATHEB  PEOTJT's   EELIQUES. 

in  the  enthusiasm  of  eloquent  passion,  takes  a  wide  range 
in  one  of  his  songs,  and  ransacks  the  world,  east  and  west, 
for  images  drawn  from  the  several  phenomena  which  nature 
exhibits  in  each  country  through  which  his  muse  wanders 
uncontrolled.  Among  Other  curious  comparisons  and  happy 
£ights  of  infancy,  he  introduces  the  fountain  of  the  Sun, 
Dear  the  temple  of  Jupiter  Ammon ;  and,  describing  the 
■occasional  warmth  and  successive  icy  chiH  which  he  expe- 
riences in  the  presence  or  absence  of  his  beloved,  compares 
his  heart  to  that  mysterious  water,  which,  cold  at  mid-day, 
grew  warm  towards  eve.  Would  the  reader  wish  to  see 
with  what  effrontery  Moore  appropriates,  without  the 
slightest  acknowledgment,  the  happy  idea  of  Petrarch? 
Here  are  the  parallel  passages : 

^^ctrjrra.  Com  &iooxt.  . 

"  Sorge  nel  mezzo  giomo.  "Ply  not  yet!  the  fount  that  pky'd, 

Una  fontana,  e  tien  nome  del  In  days  of  old,  through  Ammon's 

Sole,  shade, 

Che  per  natura  Buole  Though  icy  cold  by  day  it  ran, 

Bollir  la  notte,  e'n  sul  giomo  esser  Yet  stUl,  like  souls  of  mirth,  hegam 
&edda.  To  bum  when  night  was  nean 

*  *  *  *  Aud  thus  should  woman's  heart  and 

Cosl  avien  a  me  stesso  looks 

Che  mio  sol  s'  allontana  At  noon  be  cold  as  wintiy  brooks, 

Ardo  allor,"  &e.  But  kindle  when  the  night's  retum- 
Canzoni  di  Petr.  31,  et.  4,  ing 

Brings  the  genial  hour  for  burning." 

The  learned  priest  had  been  at  the  trouble  of  perusing 
Quintus  Curtius,  lib.  iv.  cap.  7,  where  he  had  found :  "  Eat 
etiam  Ammonis  nemus ;  in  medio  habet  fontem ;  aquam 
soils  vocant;  sub  lucis  ortum  tepida  manat,  medio  die  frigida 
eadem  fluit,  incHnato  in  vesperam  calescit,  medi^  nocte  fer- 
vida  exaestuat."  He  had  also,  no  doubt,  read  the  hues  in 
SiHus  ItaJicus,  "  De  Bello  Punico,"  referring  to  this  same 
source : 

"  QusB  nascente  die,  quse  deficiente  tepescit, 
Quseque  riget  medium  oilm  sol  ascendit  Olympmn." 

But  his  property,  in  the  application  of  the  simile,  has  been 
invaded  by  Tom,  who  had  read  nothing  of  the  sort — 

"  Sic  Tos  non  vobis  meUificatis  apes !" 
Aiter  all,  I  am  wasting  my  time  on  such  minor  matters.  , 


THE     WINE-CUP     BESPOKEN, 


THE    SONaS   OP  ITALY.  329 

In  the  celebrated  address  above  quoted  of  tlie  hermit  of 
Vaueluse  to  that  ammortal  fountain,  I  have  given  what  I 
consider  a  fair  specimen  of  Italian  amatory  poesy :  but 
though  the  poets  of  that  genial  climate  are  "  all  for  love," 
still  they  are  also  "  a  little  for  the  bottle."  Hence  it  is 
that  I  consider  it  my- duty,  as  an  essayist,  to  bring  forward 
a  sample  of  their  bacchanalian  songs. 

Sonttto  ©ittramljico. 

Claudia  Tolomei.j 

Nou  mi  far,  O  Vjilean !  di  questo  argento 

Scolpiti  in  vaga  scbiera  uomini  ed.  armi : 

Fammene  una-gran.  tazza, .ore  baguarmi 
Fossa  i  denti,  la  lingua,  i  kbbri,  e  '1  meuto, 

Non  mi  ritrai"  inlei  pioggia  n&  vento,, 
Nfe  sole  o  stelle  per  Taghgzza  darmi  • 
Non  puo  '1  Carro  o  Boote  allegro  farmi— 

Cb'  altrove  e  la  mia  gioia  e  '1  inio  conteiito.  f 

Pa  delle  viti  ed  alle  viti  intomo ., 

Peudir'  dell'  uve,  el'  lire  BtiHinvinoJ  ' 
Ch'  io  beyo,  e  poi  dagli  occbi  ebro' distiUo  j 

E  'n  mezzo  un  vaso,  ore  in  bel  core  adomo, 

Coro  pii  oh'  altro'lietd  e  piil  divino, 
Pestino  1'  uve  Amor,  Bacco,  e  BatiUo! 


W^t  Wtnt^Cup  I)e;EJpo6en. 

,  AiB — "  One  bumper  at  parting." 

Great  Vulcan !  your  dart  smoky  palace. 

With  these  ingots  of  silver,  I  seek  j 
And  I  beg  you  will  make  me  a  chalice. 

Like  the  cup  you  once  forged  for  the  Greek. 
Let  no  deeds  of  Bellqna  "  the  bloody" 

Emblazon  this  goblet  of  mine ; 
But  a  garland  of  grapes,  ripe  and  ruddy, 

In  sculpture  around  it  entwine. 

The  festoon  (which  you'll  graoefully  model) 
Is,  remember,  hut  part  at  the  whole ; 

Lest,  perchance,  it  might  enter  your  noddle 
To  diminish  the  size  of  tbie  bowl. 


830  TATHEE   PEOn'S    EELIQUES. 

For  though  dearly  what 's  deem'd  ornamental, 
And  of  art  the  bright  symbols,  I  prize ; 

Still  I  cling  with  a  fondness  parental 
Bound  a  cup  of  the  true  good  old  size. 

Let  me  have  neither  sun,  moon,  nor  planet, 

Nor  "  the  Bear,"  nor  "  the  Twins,"  nor  "  the  Goat :" 
Tet  its  use  to  each  eye  that  may  scan  it, 

Let  a  glance  at  its  emblems  denote.     .. 
Then  away  with  Minerva  and  Venus ! 

Not  a  rush  for  them  both  do  I  care ; 
But  let  joUy  old  Father  Silenus, 

Astride  on  his  jackass,  be  there  ! 

Let  a  dance  of  gay  satyrs,  in  cadence 

Disporting,  be  seen  mid  the  fruit  j 
And  let  Pan  to  a  group  of  young  maidens 

Teach  a  new  vintage-lay  on  his  flute ; 
Cupid,  too,  hand  in  hand  with  Bathyllus, 

May  purple  his  feet  in  the  foam : 
Long  may  last  the  red  joys  they  distil  us  ! 
,        Tho'  Love  spread  his  winglets  to  roam  ! 


The  Bongsters  of  Italy  have  aot  conflned  themselves  so 
exclusively  to  the  charms  of  the  ladies  and  the  fascinations 
of  the  flask,  as  not  to  have  felt  the  noble  pulse  of  patriotic 
emotion,  and  sung  the  anthem  of  independence.  There  is 
a  glorious  ode  of  Petrarch  to  his  native  land :  and  here  is  a 
well-known  poetic  outburst  from  a  truly  spirited  champion 
of  his  country's  rights,  the  enthusiastic  but  graceful  and 
dignified  Filicaia. 


mia.  33atrta. 

ItaUa !  Italia !  o  tu  cui  feo  la  sorte 
Dono  infeUce  di  bellezza,  ond'  hai 
Funesta  dote  d'  infiniti  guai 

Che  in  fronte  scritti  per  gran  doglia  porte  j 

Deb !  fossi  tu  men  bella,  o  almen  piu  forte 
Onde  assai  pift  ti  paventasse,  o  assai 
T'  amasse  men  chi  del  tuo  bello  a'  rai 

Far  che  si  strugga,  e  pur  ti  s£da  a  morte . 


THE   SONGS    OF  ITALY.  331 

Che  giu  dall'  Alpi  non  vedrei  torrenti 

Scender  d'  armati,  nfe  di  aaiigue  tinta 
Berer  1'  onda  del  Po  gaUioi  armenti ; 

Ne  te  Tedrei  del  non  tuo  feiro  cinta 
Pugnar  col  braccio  di  straniere  genti 
Per  servir  sempre,  o  yinoitrice  o  yinta ! 

Co  proiStrate  Italp. 

Filicaia. 

Hast  thou  not  been  tne  nations'  queen,  fair  Italy !  though  now 
Chance  gives  to  them  the  diadem  that  once  adorned  thy  brow  ? 
Too  beautiful  for  tyrant's  rule,  too  proud  for  handmaid's  duty — 
Would  thou  hadst  less  of  loveHnesB,  or  strength  as  well.as  beauty ! 

The  fatal  light  of  beauty  bright  with  fell  attraction  shone. 
Fatal  to  thee,  for  tyrants  "be  the  lovers  thou  hast  won ! 
That  forehead  fair  is  doom'd  to  wear  its  shame's  degrading  proof, 
And  slavery's  print  in  damning  tint  stamp'd  by  a  despot's  hoof! 

Were    strength   and  power,  maiden!   thy  dower,  soon  should  that 

robber-band. 
That  prowls  unhid  thy  vines  amid,  fly  scourg'd  from  off  that  land ; 
Nor  wouldst  thou  fear  yon  foreigner,  nor  be  condenmed  to  see 
Drink  in  the  flow  of  classic  Po  barbarian  cavahy. 

Climate  of  art !  thy  sons  depart  to  gild  a  Vandal's  throne ; 
To  battle  led,  their  blood  is  shed  in  contests  not  their  own  ;— 
Mix'd  with  yon  horde,  go  draw  thy  sword,  nor  ask  what  cause  'tis  fop : 
■  Thy  lot  is  cast — slave  to  the  last !  conquer'd  or  conqueror ! 

Truly  is  Italy  the  "  climate  of  art,"  as  I  hare  designated 
her  iQ  my  version ;  for  even  the  peasantry,  admitted  as  they 
constantly  are,  by  the  wise  munificence  of  the  reigning 
princes,  to  all  public  collections  of  sculpture  and  painting, 
evince  an  instinctive  admiration  of  the  capi  d'  opera  of  the 
most  celebrated  masters,  easily  distinguishing  them  from 
the  multitude  of  inferior  productions  with  which  they  are 
generally  surrounded.  This  innate  perception  appears  the 
birthright  of  every  son  of  Italy ;  and  I  have  often  listened 
with  surprise  to  the  observations  of  the  artificers  of  Eome, 
and  the  dwellers  of  the  neighbouring  hiUs,  as  they  stroUed 
through  the  Vatican  gallery.  There  is  one  statue  in  rather 
an  unfrequented,  but  vast  magnificent  church,  of  the  Eter-- 
nal  City,  round  which  I  never  failed  to  meet  a  group  of 


332  FATHEE  PEOTJT'S   EELIQTIES. 

enthusiastic  admirers  :  it  is  the  celebrated  Moses ;  in  which 
Frenchmen  have  only  found  matter  for  vulgar  jest,  but 
which  the  Italians  view  with  becoming  veneration.  One  of 
the  best  odes  in  the  language  has  been  composed  in  honour 
of  this  glorious  effort  of  Buonarotti's  chisel. 

Sonetto  di  Giambattista  Zappi. 

Chi  e  cestui,  ohe  in  el  gran  pietra  seolto 

Siede,  gigamte,  e  le  piil  iUustri  e  conte 

Opre  deU'  arte  ayanza,  e  ha  vive  e  pronte 
Le  lahbra  si  che  le  parole  ascolto  ? 

Questi  e  Mose  ;  ben  me  '1  dicera  il  folto 
Onor  del  mento,  e  '1  doppio  raggio  in  fronte : 
Questi  h  Mose,  quando  scendea  dal  monte, 

E  gran  parte  del  Nume  avea  nel  volto. 

Tal  era  allor,  che  le  sonante  e  vaste 

Aoque  ei  sospese  a  se  d'  intomo  ;  e  tale 
Quando  il  mar  chiuae,  e  ne  fe  tomba  altrui. 

E  voi,  sue  turbe,  im  rio  vitello  alzaste  ? 

Alzata  aveste  immago  a  questa  eguale ; 
Ch'  era  men  £allo  1'  adorar  costui. 

®Ue  to  tiie  Statue  of  MoStS 

At  the  foot  cf  the  Mautokum  of  Pope  Julius  II.  in  the  Church  of  St. 
Peter  ad  Vinculo,  Rome — the  Masterpiece  of  Michael  Angela. 

Statue  !  whose  giant  limbs 
Old  Buonarotti  plann'd, 
And  Gtenius  carved  with  meditative  hand, — 
Thy  dazzling  radiance  dims 
The  best  and  brightest  boasts  of  Sculpture's  favourite  land. 

What  dignity  adorns 
That  beard's  prodigious  sweep  ! 
That  forehead,  awful  with  mysterious  horns 
And  cogitation  deep, 
Of  some  uncommon  miad  the  rapt  beholder  warns. 

In  that  proud  semblance,  well 
My  soul  can  recognise 
The  prophet  fresh  from  converse  with  the  skies ; 
IS'or  b  it  hard  to  teU 
The  liberator's  name, — the  Guide  of  Israel. 


THE   SONGS   01'  ITALY.  333 

Well  might  the  deep  respond 
Obedient  to  that  Toice, 
When  on  the  Red  Sea  shore  he  waved  his  wand, 
And  bade  the  tribes  rqoiee, 
Saved  from  the  yawning  gulf  and  the  Egyptian's  bond ! 

Fools !  in  the  wilderness 
Ye  raised  a  calf  of  gold ! 
Had  ye  then  worshipped  what  I  now  behold, 
Tour  crime  had  been  far  less — 
For  ye  had  bent  the  knee  to  one  of  godlike  mould ! 

There  is  a  striMng  boldness  in  the  conclading  stanza,  war- 
ranted however  hy  the  awful  majesty  of  the  colossal  figure 
itself. 

SmoUett  has  given  us  a  delightful  "  Ode  to  Leven  "Water," 
in  which,  vnth  enraptured  complacency,  he  dwells  on  the 
varied  beauties  of  the  Scottish  stream,  its  flowery  banks,  and 
its  scaly  denizens.  By  way  of  contrast,  it  may  not  be  un- 
pleasant to  peruse  an  abusive  and  angry  lyric  addressed  to 
the  Tiber  by  an  Italian  poet,  who  appears  to  have  been 
disappointed  in  the  uncouth  appearance  of  that  turbid  river ; 
having  pictured  it  to  his  young  imagination  as  an  enchant- 
ing silvery  flood.  The  wrath  of  the  bard  is  amusing ;  but 
he  is  sometimes  eloquent  in  his  ire. 

ai  €tbeve.  ^inti  aKBreSSeB  to  tijc  Ctber. 

Alessandro  Ouidi,  By  Aleasandro  GuiUi. 

10  oredea  ehe  in  queste  sponde  Tiber !  my  early  dream, 

Sempre  1'  onde  My  boyhood's  vision  of  thy  classic 

,Gisser  limpide  ed  amene ;  stream, 

E  che  qui  soave  e  lento  Had  taught  my  mind  to  think 

Stesse  il  vento,  That  over  sands  of  gold 

E  che  d'  or  fosser  1'  arene.  Thy  limpid  waters  roUed, 

And  ever-verdant  laurels  grew  upon 
thy  brink. 

Ma  vag6  lungi  dal  vero  But  far  in  otheC  guise 

,  n  pensiero  The  rude  reality  hath  met  miQC  eyes. 

In  formar  si  bello  il  flume ;  Here,  seated  on  thy  bank. 

Or  che  in  riva  a  lui  mi  seggio  All  desolate  and  drear 

lo  ben  veggio  Thy  margin  doth  appear, 

11  suo  volto  e  il  BUG  costume.  With  creeping  weeds,  and  shrubs,  and 

vegetation  rank. 


334 


FATHEE  PEOUT  S   EBLIQTJES. 


Non  con  onde  liete  e  chiai'e 
Oorre  al  mare ;    ' 

Fassa  torbido  ed  osouro : 
I  BQoi  lidi  auBtro  percuote 
B  gli  scuote 

IVeddo  turbine  d'  Arturo. 


Quanto  e  folle  quella  nave 

Che  non  pave 
I  suoi  Tortici  sdegnosi, 

B  non  sa  ohe  dentro  1'  aoque 
A  lui  piacque 
Si  fondar'  perigli  ascoei. 

Suol  trovarsi  in  suo  cammino 

Quivi  il  pino 
Trk  profonde  ampie  caveme ; 
D'improTviBo  ei  giimge  al  lito 

Di  Cooito 
A  Bolcar  quell'  onde  inferue. 


Quando  in  Sirio  il  Sol  riluce, 

E  conduce 
L'  ore  ferride  inquiete, 

Chi  conforto  al  Tebro  chiede 
Ben'  s'  avrede 
Bi  cercarlo  in  grembo  a  Lete. 


Ognun  sa  come  spumoao, 

Orgoglioso, 
Sin  con  mar  prende  contesa, 
Vubl  talor  passar  reloce 
I/'  alta  foce, 
Quando  Teti  &  d'  ira  accessa. 


Quindi  awien  ch'  ei  fa  ritomo 

Pien  di  scomo, 
B  b'  avTenta  alle  rapine : 
Si  divora  il  bosco,  e  il  solco, 

B  a  bifoloo 
Nuota  in  cima  alle  mine. 


Bondly  I  fancied  thine 
The  wave  pellucid,  and  the  Naiad's 
Bhnne, 
In  crystal  grot  below ; 
But  thy  tempestuous  course 
Buns  turbulent  and  hoarse, 
And,  swelling  with  wild  wrath,   thy 
wintry  waters  flow. 

Upon  thy  bosom  dark 
Feril  awaits  the  light  conflding  bark. 
In  eddying  vortex  swamp'd ; 
Foul,  treacherous,  and  deep. 
Thy  winding  waters  sweep, 
Bnveloping  their  prey  in  dismal  ruin 
prompt. 

Fast  in  thy  bed  is  sunk 
The  mountain  pine-tree's  broken 
trunk. 
Aimed  at  the  galley's  keel ; 
And  well  thy  wave  can  wajft 
Upon  that  broken  shaft 
The  barge,  whose  sunken  wreck  thy 
bosom  wiU  conceal. 

The  dog-star's  sultry  power. 
The  summer  heat,  the  noontide's 
fervid  hour, 
That  fires  the  mantling  blood. 
Yon  cautious  swain  can't  urge 
To  tempt  thy  dangerous  surge, 
Or  cool  his  Kmbs  withm  thy  dark  in- 
sidious flood. 

I've  marked  thee  in  thy  pride. 
When  struggle   fierce  thy  disem- 
boguing tide 
With  Ocean's  monarch  held ; 
But,  quickly  overcome 
By  Neptune's  masterdom. 
Back  thou  hast  fled  as  oft,  ingloriously 
repelled. 

Often,  athwart  the  fields 
A  giant's  strength  thy  flood  redund- 
ant wields. 
Bursting  above  its  brims — 
Strength  that  no  dyke  can  cheek: 
Dire  is  the  harvest-wreck  I 
Buoyant,  with  lofty  horns,  th'  affright- 
ed bullock  swims ! 


THE    SOITBS    or   ITAIT. 


335 


But  still  thy  proudest  boast, 
Tiber !  and  what  brings  honour  to 
thee  most, 
Is,  that  thy  waters  roll 
Fast  by  th'  eternal, home 
Of  GHory's  daughter,  EoMB ; 
And  that  thy  biUowB  bath«  &e  sacred 
Capitol. 

Famed  is  thy  stream  for  her, 
Cleha,  thy  current's  yirgin  conqueror. 
And  him  who  stemmed  the  march 
Of  Tuscany's  proud  host. 
When,  firm  at  honour's  post, 
He  waved  his    blood-stained  blade 
above  the  broken  arch ! 

Of  Eomulus  the  sons, 
To  torrid  Africans,  to  frozen  Huns, 
Have  taught  thy  name,  O  flood ! 
And  to  that  utmost  verge. 
Where  radiantly  emerge 
ApoUo's  car  of  flame  and  golden-footed 
stud. 

For  so  much  glory  lent, 
Ever  destructive  of  some  monu- 
ment, 
Thou  mak'est  foul  return ; 
Insulting  with  thy  wave 
Each  Komau  hero's  ^ave, 
And  Scipio's  dust  that  fills  yon  con- 
secrated urn ! 

Turn  we  now  to  Dante.  I  have  always  been  of  opinion, 
that  the  terza  rima  in  which  he  wrote  was  so  peculiar  a 
feature  of  the  language,  and  a  form  of  verse  so  exclusively 
adapted  to  the  Italian  idiom,  as  to  render  any  attempt  to 
translate  him  in  the  same  rhymed  measure  a  dangerous  ex- 
periment. Even  Byron,  in  his  "  Prophecy  of  Dante,"  has 
failed  to  render  it  acceptable  to  our  English  ear.  The 
"  sonnet"  is  also,  in  my  humble  judgment,  an  unnational 
poetic  structure,  and  as  little  suited  to  our  northern  lan- 
guages as  the  Italian  villa-style  of  Palladio  to  our  climate. 
B'ew  English  sonnets  have  ever  gained  celebrity  among  the 
masses.  There  is  a  lengthened  but  not  unmusical  sort 
of  line,  in  which  I  think  the  old  Florentine's  numbers 
might  sweep  along  with  something  like  native  dignity. 


Quei  frequenti  illustri  allori, 

Quegli  onori 
Per  cui  tanto  egli  si  noma 
Fregi  son  d'  antichi  eroi, 

B  non  suoi, 
E  son  doni  alfln  di  Boma. 


Lui  fan  ohiaro  il  gran  tragitto 

DeU'  invitto 
Cor  di  Olelia  al  suol  Bomano, 
E  il  guerrier  che  sopra  il  ponte 

L'  alta  fronte 
Tenne  incontro  al  re  Tosoano. 


Fu  di  Bomolo  la  gente 

Che  il  tridente 
Di  Nettuno  in  man  gU  porse ; 
Ebbe  aUor  del  mar  1'  impero, 

Ed  altero 
Tiionfaudo  intomo  corse. 


Ma  il  crudel,  che  il  tutto  oblia, 

E  desia 
Di  spezzar  mai  sempre  il  freno, 
Spesso  a  Boma  insulti  rende, 
Ed  offende 
L'ombre  auguste   all'  urne    in 
aeno. 


336  TATHEE   PEOTJT'S   EELIQTJES. 

l,a  33orta  Bel  Jnferno. 

Dante,  Cant.  III. 

"  Pee  MB  SI  TA  ITELIiA  CITli.  DOIyENTB, 

Feb  me  si  va  iraLi'  etebno  doioee, 
Pee  me  si  ta  tea  ia  peedtjta  gente. 

^P  ^  rtp  "SP 

DnrANZI  A  ME  NON  ETJB  COSE  CEEATE, 
Se  NON  ETEENE  ED  10  ETEENO  DTTEO, 

Lasoiate  ooni  speeanza  vox  ch'  inibatb." 

Queste  parole,  cli  colore  oscuro, 

Yid'  io  soritte  al  sommo  d'  una  porta 
Perch'  io,  "MacstroM  il  sensolor  m'  6  ditro." 

Ed  egli  a  me  come  persona  aoeorta, 
"  Qui  si  convien  lasciar  ogni  sospetto, 
Ogni  TUta  convien  che  qui  sia  morta. 

Noi  sem  venuti  al  luogo  ot*  i'  t'  o  detto, 

C!he  tu  vedrai  le  genti  dolorose, 
Ch'  hanno  perduto  '1  ben'  dell'  intelletto." 

E  poiehfe  la  sua  mauo  alia  mia  pose, 
Con  lieto  volto,  ond  io  mi  oonfortai, 
Mi  miae  dentro  alle  secrete  cose ; 

Quivi  sospiri,  pianti,  ed  alti  guai 

Bisonavan  per  1'  aere  senza  steUe, 
Perch'  io  nel  cominciar  ne  lagrimai. 

Diverse  lingue,  orribili  favelle, 
Parole  di  dolore,  accent!  d'  ira, 

Vooi  alte  e  fioche,  e  suon  di  man  eon  elle^ 

I  Faoevano  un  tumulto  U  qual  s'  aggira 

Sempre  'n  quell'  aria  senza  tempo  tinta. 
Come  r  arena  quamdo  '1  turbo  spira. 

Ed  io,  cV  avea  d'  orror  la  testa  ointa, 
Dissi,  "  Maestro,  che  fe  quel'  ch'  i  odo  ? 
E  che  gent'  e  che  par  nel  duol  si  viuta  ?" 

Ed  egU  a  me  :  "  Questo  misero  modo 

Tengon  1'  anime  triste  di  coloro, 
Che  visser  senza  infamia  e  senza  lodo, 

Mischiate  sono  a  quel  cattivo  core 
Degh  angeU  che  non  furon  ribelli, 
N6  fur  fldeli  a  Dio  ma  per  s6  foro. 


THE    SONGS    OF   IXALT.  337 

Caeciavli  i  oiel'  per  nou  esser  men  belli, 

Ne  lo  profondo  inferno  gli  rioeve, 
Oh'  alouna  gloria  i  rei  avrebber  d'  elli." 

Ed  io :  "  Maestro,  che  6  tanto  greve 
A  lor  che  lamentar  gli  fa  si  fortef " 
Eispose :  "  Dieerolti  molto  breve. 

Quest!  non  hanno  speranza  di  morte, 

E  la  lor  cieea  vita  e  tanto  bassa 
Che  'nvidiosi  son  d'  ogni'altra  sorte. 

Eama  di  lor  il  mondo  esser  nou  lassa ; 
Misericordia  e  giustizia  gli  sdegna, 
Non  bagion am'  di  ioe,  ma  atJAEDA  b  passa  !' 


Cl)e  J^ort!)  of  Itll. 

(X»«n<e.) 

"Set6  pe  ijc  pat!)  trateD  i^t  ii)e  toraii)  of  ffioU  fot  slnfull  mortals? 

®( ilte  reptobau  tj^is  is  i\)e  gate,  liiese  are  11)e  glootne  pottals  ! 

jfor  sinne  anB  crime  (xom  iJje  6irtl)  of  tpme  Bujac  tsaa  tfiis  diulp^ 

Infernal 
(&nei3t!  let  all  l^ope  on  tl^ts  tI)rtsi)olIi  sto]]!  ^cre  reigns  llespait 

lEurnal." 

I  read  with  tears  these  characters — tears  shed  on  man's  behalf ; 
Each  word  seemed  fraught  with  painful  thought,  the  lost  soul's  epitaph. 
Turning  dismayed,  "  O  mystic  shade !"  I  cried,  "  my  kindly  Mentor, 
Of  comfort,  say,  can  no  sweet  ray  these  dart  dominions  enter  ?" 

"  My  son  !"  replied  the  ghostly  guide,  "  this  is  the  dark  abode 

Of  the  guilty,  dead — alone  they  tread  hell's  melancholy  road. 

Brace  up  thy  nerves !  this  hour  deserves  that  Mind  should  have  control, 

And  bid  avaunt  fears  that  would  haunt  the  clay-imprisoned  soul. 

Mine  be  the  task,  when  thou  shalt  ask,  each  mystery  to  solve ; 
Anon  for  us  dark  Erebus  back  si  all  its  gates  revolve —        , 
HeU  shall  disclose  its  deepest  woes,  each  punishment,  each  pang, 
Saint  hath  revealed,  or  eye  beheld,  or  flame-tongued  prophet  sang." 

Gates  were  unrolled  of  iron  mould — a  dismal  dungeon  yawned ! 
We  passed — we  stood — 'twas  hell  we  view'd  l-J-etemity  had  dawned ! 
Space  on  our  sight  burst  infinite — echoes  were  heard  remote  j 
Shrieks  loud  and  drear  startled  our  ear,  and  stripes  incessant  smote. 

Onward  we  went.    The  firmament  was  starless  o'er  our  head. 
Spectres  swept  by  inquiringly — clapping  then-  hands  they  fledl 

Z 


338  FATHEE  PEOTTt'S   EELIQTTES. 

Borne  on  the  blast  strange  whispers  .passed ;  and  ever  and  anon 
Athwart  the  plain,  Uke  hurricane,  G-od's  vengeance  would  come  on.! 

Then  sounds,  breathed  low,  of  gentler  woe  soft  on  our  hearing  stole  j 
Captives  so  meek  fain  would  I  seek  to  comfort  and  console  : 
"  O  let  us  pause  and  learn  the  cause  of  so  much  grief,  and  why 
Saddens  the  air  of  their  despair  the  unavaUing  sigh ! " 

"  My  son  !  Heaven  grants  them  utterance  in  plaintive  notes  of  woe ; 
In  tears  their  grief  may  find  relief,  but  hence  they  never  go. 
Pools !  they  believed  that  if  they  lived  blameless  and  vice  eschewed, 
God  would  dispense  with  excellence,  and  give  beatitude. 

They  died !  but  naught  of  virtue  brought  to  vrin  their  Maker's  praise ; 
No  deeds  of  worth  the  page  set  forth  that  chronicled  their  days. 
Pixed  is  their  doom — eternal  gloom  !  to  mourn  for  wliat  is  past, 
And  weep  aloud  amid  that  crowd  with  whom  their  lot  ia  cast. 

One  fate  they  share  with  spirits  fair,  who,  when  rebellion  shook 
God's  holy  roof,  remained  aloof,  nor  part  whatever  took ;  • 

Drew  not  the  sword  against  their  Lord,  nor  yet  upheld  his  throne : 
Could  God  for  this  make  perfect  bliss  theirs  when  the  fight  was  won  ? 

The  world  knows  not  their  dreary  lot,  nor  can  assuage  their  pangs, 
Or  cure  the  curse  of  fell  remorse,  or  hlunt  the  tiger's  fangs. 
Mercy  disdains  to  loose  their  chains — the  hour  of  grace  has  been ! 
Son !  let  that  class  unheeded  pass — unwept,  though  not  unseen." 

The  very  singular  and  striking  moral  inculcated  by  Dante 
in  this  episode,  where  he  consigns  to  hopeless  misery  those 
"  good  easy  souls"  who  lead  a  worthless  career  of  selfishness, 
though  exempt  from  crime,  is  deserving  of  serious  attention. 

Prom  Dante's  "Hell,"  the  transition  to  the  "Wig  of 
[Father  Eoger  Boscovich"  may  appear  ahrupt ;  but  I  never 
terminate  a  paper  ia  gloomy  or  doleful  humour.  Wherefore 
I  wind  up  by  a  specimen  of  playful  poetry,  taken  from  a 
very  scarce  .work  printed  at  Venice  ia  1804,  and  entitled 
"  Le  Opere  Poetiche  deU'  Abate  Griulio  Cesare  Cordara," 
ex- Jesuit  and  ex-historiographer  to  the  Society,  connected 
by  long  friendship  with  his  confrere,  the  scientific  and  accom- 
plished Boscovich,  concerning  whom  there  is  a  short  notice 
elsewhere,*  to  which  I  refer  the  reader,  should  he  seek  to  know 
more  about  the  proprietor  of  the  wig.  Nor,  perhaps,  will  a 
Latin  translation  of  this_/eM  d^  esprit  be  unacceptable. 

*   See  Paper  on  Literature  and  the  Jesuits. 


THE    SOKGS   OF   ITALY.  339 

aila  39ei:rucca  tlcl  ^atitt  Sussern  So^cobicJ). 

O  crine,  o  orin  che  un  dl  fosti  Btromento 

Di  folli  amori,  p  sol  femminea  oura, 
Or  sei  del  mio  Bugger  Btrano  ornamento  ; 

Couoaci  tu  1'  eccelsa  tua  ventivra, 
E  ti  saresti  mai  immagiuato 

Di  fare  al  mondo  una  Bi  gran  figura  ? 

Qual  che  si  fosse  il  capo  in  oui  sei  uato, 
Posse  pur  di  leggiadro  e  nobil  volto, 
Certo  non  fosti  mai  tauto  onorato. 

Di  raga  donna  in  fronte  eri  pivl  colto  ; 
Ma  i  dl  passari  neghittosi  e  TiU 
A  MXi  lucido  cristaUo  ognor  rivolto. 

Sol  pensier  vani,  e  astuzie  femminiU 

CopriTi  allor,  e  insidiosa  rate 
Co'  tuoi  formaTi  iunanellati  fiU. 

Q.uando  costretto  le  folUe  consuete 
A  sentir  d'  un'  amante  che  delira, 

Quando  smanie  a  veder  d'  ire  iaquiete. 

Porae  talor  ti  si  aTventb  con  ira 

A  scapigliarti  un'  invida  rivale, 
Come  femmina  suol  quando  s'  adira ; 

Infin,  nido  di  griUi  origjnale, 
Testimonio  di  frodi  o  di  menzogne, 
T'  aveva  fatto  il  tuo  destin  fatale. 

Ne  i  fior  vermigli  e  1'  odorate  sogne, 

N6  la  Candida  polve,  ond'  eri  asperso, 
Facean  compenso  a  tante  tue  vergogne. 

Ma  come  fatto  sei  da  te  diverso, 
Dacohe  reciso  dalla  tU  cerrice, 

Di  non  tuo  capo  in  crin,  fo  sti  converse 

Fri  tutte  le  perruoche  or  sei  feHce, 

Che  sebben'  torta,  incolta,  e  mai  contesta, 
(Come  pur  troppo  immaginar  ne  lice), 

Puoi  per6  gloriarti,  e  fame  festa 
Che  altra  non  fu  giammai  dal  ciel  eletto 
A  ricoprir  si  veneranda  testa ! 


z2 


340  TATHEE  PEOri'S   EELIQT7E8. 

®ae  to  ti)e  OTt's  of  dFati)tr  ^oitobic^, 

THE   OEIEBKATED  ASTBONOMEE. 

With  awe  I  look  on  that  pemke. 

Where  Learning  is  a  lodger, 
And  think,  whene'er  I  see  that  hair 
Which  now  you  wear,  some  ladye  fair 
Had  worn  it  once,  dear  Roger ! 

On  empty  skull  most  beautiful 
Appeared,  no  doubt,  those  locks. 

Once  the  bright  grace  of  pretty  face ; 

Now  far  more  proud  to  be  allowed 
To  deck  thy  "  knowledge-box." 

Condemned  to  pass  before  the  glass 

Whole  hours  each  blessed  morning, 
'Twas  desperate  long,  with  curling-tong 
And  tortoise-sheU,  to  have  a  belle 
Thee  frizzing  and  adorning. 

Bright  ringlets  set  as  in  a  net. 
To  catch  us  men  like  fishes ! 
Tour  every  lock  concealed  a  stock 
Of  female  wares — love's  pensive  cares, 
Yain  dreams,  and  futile  wishes ! 

That  chevelure  has  caused,  I'm  sure, 

Full  many  a  lover's  quarrel ; 
Then  it  was  decked  with  flowers  select 
And  myrtle-sprig :  but  now  a  wia, 
'Tis  circled  with  a  laurel ! 

Where  fresh  and  new  at  first  they  grew. 

Of  whims,  and  tricks,  and  fancies, 
Those  locks  at  best  were  but  a  nest : — 
Their  being  spread  on  learned  head 
Vastly  their  worth  enhances. 

Prom  flowers  exempt,  uncouth,  unkempt- 
Matted,  entangled,  thick ! 
Mourn  not  the  loss  of  curl  or  gloss — 
'Tis  infra  dig.    Thou  abt  the  wia 
Ob  Eogeb  Boscotich  ! 

iSt  fi'cta  Coma  i^agert  fiaicobicitiu 

Elegia, 

Ctesaries !  yanum  vesani  nuper  amoris 
Forsitan  illicium,  ciu:aque  fceminea, 


THE    SONGS    or   ITALY.  341 

Gh-ande  mei  nuper  gestamen  facta  Eogeri, 
Noyisti  an  sortis  fata  seounda  tuse  ? 

Sper^tine  istud  laudis  contingere  culmen, 
Mortalesque  inter  tam  fore  conspicua  P 

Culta  magi3  fueras  intonsse  in  fronte  pnellsB, 
Sed  toti  sueruut  turpiter  ire  dies  ; 

Tune  coram  speculo  contorta,  retorta  gemebas, 
Dum  per  mille  modos  futile  pergit  opus. 

Nunc  meliore  loco  (magnum  patris  omamentum), 
Esto  sacerdotis,  nou  muliebris,  houos ! 

O  quotles  ferro  immiti  vibrata  dolebas, 
Vt  £eres  va&as  cassis  ad  insidias ! 

Audiati  quoties  fatui  deKria  amantis, 
Vidisti  et  csbcus  quidquid  iueptit  amor ! 

Forsan  et  experta  es  fiirias  riralis  amiese, 
Dum  gravis  in  cirros  insilit  ira  tuoB. 

Quippe  tuum  fuerat  lugubre  ab  origine  fatiuu, 
Esses  ut  tegmeu  firaudibus  atque  dolis, 

TJtque  fores  nidus  gerris  mal&  plenus  ineptii. 
Tale  ministerium  fata  dedSre  tibi ; 

Neo  compensabant  dirse  mala  sortis  odores, 
TJnguenta,  et  pulvis  vel  nire  caudidior. 

Nunc  data  t^m  docto  mixnimen  forte  eerebro, 
Sis  impexa  lic^t,  ais  licet  horridula, 

Sume  triumphatrix  animos  hinc  jure  superbos, 
Quod  tantum 'foveas  ambitiosa  oaput ! 

There  is  extant  among  the  poems  of  Cordara  a  further  la- 
mentation on  the  sale  of  this  wig,  after  Boscovich's  death, 
to  a  Jew  teoker — 

"  Venduta,  o  caso  perfido  e  reo  ! 
Per  quindici  bajocohi,  ad  un  Hebreo !" 

from  whom  it  was  purchased  by  a  farmer,  and  ultimately 
fixed  on  a  pole,  in  a  cabbage-garden,  to  fidght  the  birds, 
"  per  spaventar  gliuccelli." — But  I  feel  drowsy  to-night,  and 
cannot  pursue  the  subject.    MoUy !  bring  my  night-cap ! 


342  TATHEB  lEOrT'S   EEIIQ.UES. 


No.  XII. 


THE    SONGS   01'   ITALT. 

CHAPTJIE  II. 


"  Sed  neque  Medonim,  sylvse  ditissima,  terra, 
Neo  pulcher  Ganges,  atque  aiiro  turbidus  Hermus, 
Laudibus  Ttalise  oertent ;  noh  Bactra,  neque  Indi, 
Totaque  thuriferis  Panchaia  pinguis  areuis." 

VebG.  Georg.  II. 

Wc'tb  met  with  glees  "from  the  Chinese!"    translations   "from  the 

Persian  ;" 
Sanscrit  we're  had,  from  Hydrabad,  Sir  WiUiam  Jones's  version. 
We've  also  seen  (in  a  magazine)  nice  jawbreakers  "from  Schiller;" 
And  "tales"  by  folks,-  who  gives  us  "jokes,"  omitting  "from  Joe 

Miller." 
Of  plain  broad  Scotch  a  neat  hotch-potch  Hogg  sends  us  from  the 

Highlands ; 
There  are  songs   too  "from  the  Hindi,"  and   "  from  the  Sandwich 

Islands." 
'Tis  deemed  most  wise  to  patronise  Munchausen,  Q-oethe,  Ossian ; 
To  make  a  stand  for  "fatherland"  or  some  other  laud  of  G-oshen. 
Since  we  must  laud  things  from  abroad,  and  smile  on  foreign  capers, 
The  land  for  me  is  Italy,  with  her  SONGS  "from  the  Prout  Papers." 

O.  Y. 


Theee  has  arisen  in  England  a  remarkable  predilection  for 
the  literature  of  the  continent.  The  great  annual  fair  at 
Leipsic  is  drawing  more  and  more  the  attention  of  our  book- 
sellers ;  to  the  detriment  of  "  the  Eow."  Nor  are  our  his- 
torians and  poets,  our  artists  in  the  novel-making  line  (male 
and  female),  our  humble  cobblers  at  the  dramatic  buskin, 
and  our  industrious  hodmen  from  the  sister  island  who  con-  . 
tribute  to  build  cyclopaedias,  the  only  laboxiring  poor  thrown 
out  of  employment ;  but  even  our  brothers  in  poverty  and 
genius,  the  old  English  ballad-singers,  blind-fiddlers,  and 
pipers,  have  been  compelled  to  give  place  to  the  barrel- 
organ,  a  mere  piece  of  machinery,  which  has  superseded 


THE    SONGS    OF   ITALY.  343 

industry  and  talent.  The  old  national  claimants  on  public 
generosity,  sailors  with  wooden  legs  and  broken-down 
"match-venders,"  have  given  way  to  Polish  "  Counts"  and 
Bavarian  "  broom-girls."  Bulwer  thought  himself  a  lucky 
dog,  a  few  weeks  ago,  to  have  got  a  day's  work  on  a  political 
pamphlet, — that  being  part  of  the  craft  which  no  foreigner 
has  yet  monopolised.  The  job  was  soon  done  ;  though  'twas 
but  a  sorry  hit,  after  all.  He  is  now  engaged  on  a  pathetic 
romaunt  of  real  life,  the  "  Last  Days  of  Grab  Street." 

Matters  must  have  gone  hard  with  Tom  Moore,  since  we 
learn  with  deep  feelings  of  compassion  that  he  is  driven  to 
compile  a  "  History  of  Ireland."  Theodore  Hook,  deter- 
mined to  make  hay  while  the  sun  shines,  has  taken  the 
"  BuL."  by  the  horns :  we  are  to  have  three  vols.  8vo.  of 
"  rost  bif."*  Theodore !  hast  thou  never  ruminated  the 
axiom — 

"  Un  diner  rechauffe  ne  valut  jamais  rien  ?" 

iTom  Campbell,  hopeless  of  giving  to  public  taste  any 
other  save  a  foreign  direction,  has  gone  to  Algiers,  deter- 
mined on  exploring  the  recondite  literature  of  the  Bedouins. 
He  has  made  surprising  progress  in  the  dialects  of  Fez, 
Tunis,  and  Mauritania ;  and,  like  Ovid  among  the  Scy- 
thians— 

"  Jam  didici  Getic^  Sarmatic^que  loqui." 

He  may  venture  too  far  into  the  interior,  and  some  barbarian 
priace  may  detain  him  as  a  laureate.  We  may  hear  of  his 
being  "  bound  in  Morocco." 

This  taste  for  foreign  belles  lettres  is  subject  to  variation 
and  vicissitude.  The  gorgeous  imaginings  of  Oriental  fancy, 
of  which  the  "  Arabian  Nights,"  and  the  elegant  Eclogues 
of  Collins,  were  the  dawn,  have  had  their  day :  the  sun  of 
the  East  has  gone  down,  in  the  western  tale  of  the  "  Mre- 
worshippers."  A  surfeit  is  the  most  infallible  cure  ;  we  re- 
collect the  voracity  with  which  "  Lalla  Eookh"  was  at  first 
devoured,  and  the  subsequent  disrelish  for  that  most  lusei- 

*The  projected  republication  of  these  facetice  has  not  taken  place, 
though  announced  at  the  time  in  two  volumes  post  8vo.  Albany 
Fonblanque  subsequently  reprinted  his  articles  from  the  "  Examiner." 


844  FATHEE   PBOrT'S   BELIQTJEB. 

ous  volume.  There  is  an  end  to  the  popularity  once  enjoyed 
by  camels,  houris,  bulbuls,  silver  bells,  silver  veils,  cinnamon 
groves,  variegated  lamps,  and  such  other  stock  items  as  made 
up  the  Oriental  show-box.  This  leads  to  a  melancholy  train 
of  thought :  we  detect  ourselves  "  wandering  in  dreams " 
to  that  period  of  our  school-days  when  Tom  was  in  high 
feather, — 

"  And  oft  when  alone,  at  the  close  of  the  year, 
We  think, — Is  the  nightingale  singing  there  yet  ? 
Are  the  roses  still  sweet  by  the  calm  Bendemeer  ?" 

He  has  tried  his  hand  at  Upper  Canada  and  Lower  Egypt — 
and  spent  some  "  Evenings  in  &reece  ;"  but  "  disastrous  twi- 
light" and  the  "  chain  of  silence"  (whatever  that  ornament 
may  be)  now  hangs  over  him. 

"Horse  Sinicse"  found  favour  in  the  "barbarian  eye;" 
Viscount  Kingsborough  has  been  smitten  with  the  brunette 
muses  of  Mexico.  Lord  Byron  once  set  up  "  Hebrew  Melo- 
dies," and  had  a  season  of  it ;  but  Murray  was  soon  compelled 
to  hang  the  noble  poet's  Jew's-harp  on  the  willows  of  modern 
Babylon.  We  recollect  when  there  was  a  rage  for  German 
and  High  Dutch  poetry.  The  classics  of  Grreece  andEome, 
with  their  legitimate  descendants,  those  of  France,  Italy, 
and  England,  were  flung  aside  for  the  writers  of  Scandinavia 
and  the  poets  of  the  Danube.  Tired  of  nectar  and  ambrosia, 
my  public  sat  down  to  a  platter  of  fauertraut  with  Kant, 
Goethe,  and  Klopstock.  The  chimeras  of  transcendental 
and  transrhenane  philosophers  found  admirers ! — 'twas  the 
reign  of  the  nightmare — 

"  OmnigenAmque  DeAm  monstra,  et  latrator  Anubis, 
Contra  Neptunum  et  Venerem,  contraque  Minerram.'' 

jEneid  VIII. 

But  latterly  Teutonic  authors  are  at  a  discount ;  and,  in 
spite  of  the  German  confederacy  of  quacks  and  dunces, 
common  sense  has  resumed  its  empire.  Not  that  we  object 
to  foreign  literature,  provided  we  get  productions  of  genius 
and  taste.  The  Eomans  in  their  palmiest  days  of  conquest 
gave  a  place  in  the  Pantheon  to  the  gods  of  each  province 
they  had  added  to  their  empire ;  but  they  took  care  to 
select  the  most  graceful  and  godlike  of  these  foreign  deities, 
eschewing  what  was  too  ugly  to  figure  in  company  with 


THE    SONGS   OF  ITAIT.  345 

Apollo.    Turn  we  now  to  Prout  and  his  gleanings  in  the 
fertile  field  of  his  selection,  "  Hesperia  in  magna." 

OLIVER  TOEKE. 
March  1st,  1835. 


WatergraaahiU,  Feb.  1830. 

I  EESTJME  to-night  the  topic  of  Italian  minstrelsy.  In 
conniag  over  a  paper  penned  by  me  a  few  evenings  ago,  I 
do  not  feel  satisfied  with  the  tenour  of  my  musings.  The 
start  from  the  fountain  of  Yaucluse  was  fair ;  but  after 
gliding  along  the  classic  Po  and  the  majestic  Tiber,  it  was 
an  unseemly  termination  of  the  essay  to  engulf  itself  in  the 
cavity  of  a  bob-wig.  An  unlucky  "  cul  de  sac,"  into  which 
I  must  hwe  strolled  under  sinister  guidance.  Did  Molly 
put  an  extra  glass  into  my  vesper  bowl  ? 
•  When  the  frost  is  abroad  and  the  moon  is  up,  and  naught 
disturbs  the  serenity  of  this  mountain  wilderness,  and  the 
bright  cheerful  burning  of  the  fragrant  turf-fire  betokens 
the  salubrity  of  the  circumambient  atmosphere,  I  experi- 
ence a  buoyancy  of  spirit  unknown  to  the  grovelling  sen- 
sualist or  the  votary  of  fashion.  To  them  it  rarely  occurs 
to  know  that  highest  state  of  enjoyment,  expressed  with 
curious  felicity  in  the  hemistich  of  Juvenal,  "ilfe««  sana  in 
eorpore  sano."  Could  they  relish  with  blind  old  Milton  the 
nocturnal  visitings  of  poesy ;  or  feel  the  deep  enthusiasm 
of  those  ancient  hermits  who  kept  the  desert  awake  with 
canticles  of  praise  ;  or,  with  the  oldest  of  poets,,  the  Ara- 
bian Job,  commune  with  heaven,  and  raise  their  thoughts  to 
the  Being  "who  giveth  songs  in  the  night"  (Job  xxxv.  10), 
they  would  acknowledge  that  mental  luxuries  are  cheaply 
purchased  by  the  relinquishment  of  grosser  delights.  A 
Greek  (Eustathius)  gives  to  Night  the  epithet  of  supjov;),  or 
"parent  of  happy  thoughts:"  and  the  "  Noctes  Atticse"  of 
Aulus  Grellius  are  a  noble  prototype  of  numerous  lucubra- 
tions rejoicing  in  a  similar  title, — from  the  "  MUle  et  nne 
Nuits"  to  the  "  Notti  Eomane  al  Sepolcro  degli  Seipioni," 
from  Young's  plaintive  "  Night  Thoughts"  to  the  "  Ambro-, 


346  TATHEB  PEOUT'S   EELIQTJBS. 

sian"  pemoctationa  called  ambrosiance, — all  Gearing  testi- 
mony to  the  genial  influence  of  the  stilly  hour.  The  bird  of 
Minerva  symbolized  wisdom,  from  the  circumstance  of  its 
contempt  for  the  vulgarities  of  day ;  and  Horace  sighs  with 
becoming  emotion  when  he  calls  to  his  recollection  the 
glorious  banquetings  of  thought  and  genius  of  which  the 
sable  goddess  was  the  ministrant — O  noctes  ccemegue  DeHim  ! 
Tertullian  tells  us,  iu  the  second  chapter  of  the  immortal 
"  Apology,"  that  the  early  Christians  spent  the  night  in 
pious  "  melodies,"  that  morning  often  dawned  upon  their 
"songs" — antelucanis  horis  canebanf.  He  refers  to  the  tes- 
timony of  PUny  (the  Proconsul's  letter  to  Trajan)  for  the 
truth  of  his  statement.  Tet,  with  all  these  matters  staring 
him  in  the  face,  Tom  Moore,  led  away  by  his  usual  levity, 
and  addressing  some  foolish  girl,  thinks  nothing  of  the  pro- 
posal "  to  steal  a  few  hours  from  the  night,  my  dear  !" — a 
sacriLege,  which,  in  his  eye,  no  doubt,  amounted  only  to  a 
sort  of  petty  larceny.  But  Tom  Campbell,  with  that  phi- 
losophic turn  of  mind  for  which  he  is  so  remarkable,  con- 
nects the  idea  of  inspiration  with  the  period  of  "  sunset :" 
the  evening  of  life,  never  failing  to  bring  "  mystical  lore." 
Impressed  with  these  convictions,  the  father  of  Italian  song, 
in  the  romantic  dwelling  which  he  had  built  unto  himself 
on  the  sloping  breast  of  the  Euganeian  hUls,  spent  the  de- 
cline of  his  days  in  the  contemplation  of  loftiest  theories, 
varying  his  nocturnal  devotions  with  the  sweet  sound  of  the 
lute,  and  rapt  in  the  alternate  Elysium  of  piety  and  poetry. 
In  these  ennobling  raptures  he  exhaled  the  sweet  perfume 
of  his  mind's  immortal  essence,  which  gradually  disengaged 
itself  from  its  vase  of  clay.  "  Oblivion  stole  upon  his  vestal 
lamp  :"  and  one  morning  he  was  found  dead  in  his  library, 
reclining  in  an  arm-chair,  his  head-  resting  on  a  book,  20th 
July,  1374. 

whether  the  enviable  fate  of  Petrarca  vdll  be  mine,  I 
know  not.  But,  like  him,  I  find  in  literature  and  the 
congenial  admixture  of  holier  meditations  a  solace  and  a 
comfort  in  old  age.  In  his  writings,  in  his  loves,  in  his  sor- 
rows, in  the  sublime  aspirations  of  his  soul,  I  can  freely 
sympathise.  Laura  is  to  me  the  same  being  of  exalted  ex- 
cellence and  cherished  purity ;  and,  in  echoing  from  this 
remote  Irish  hill  the  strains  of  his  immortal  lyre,  I  hope  to 


t''--l 


UiM:   IMI,,    ;\,iN  !I; 


."5     f:'llE,ST'E,0, 


THE    SONGS    01'   ITALY.  347 

Bhare  the  tlessing  which  he  has  bequeathed  to  all  who 
Bhould  advance  and  extend  the  fame  of  his  beloved : 

"Benedette  Bian'  le  Toce  taute  ch'  io 
Chiamarido  il  nome  di  mia  donna  ho  sparte, 
E  benedette  sian'  tutte  le  charte 
Ove  io  fama  ne  acquisto." 

My  "papen"  may  promote  his  wishes  in  this  respect.  Dis- 
engaged, from  all ,  the  ties  that  bind  others  to  existence,' 
solitary,  childless,  what  .occupation  more  suitable  to  my, 
remnant  of  life  could  I  adopt  than  the  exercise  of  memory 
and  mind  of  w^ich  they  are ,  the  fruit  ?  When  I  shall  seek 
my  lonely,  pillow  to7night,  after  "  outwatching  the  bear,"  I 
shall  cheerfully  consign;  another  document  to  "the  chest," 
and  bid  it  go  join,  in  tha^  miscellaneous  aggregate,  ■  the 
mental  progeny  of  my , old  age.  This  "  cAei<"  maybe  the 
coffin  of  my  thoughts,  or  the  cradle  of  my  renown.  In,  it 
my  meditations  may  be  matured  by  some  kind  editor  into 
ultimate  manhood,  to  walk  the  world,  and.  teU;  of  .their  pa- 
rentage; .or  ;else  it  m,ay  prove  a  silent  sarcophagus,  where 
they  may  moulder  in  decay.,  In  .either  case  J  aiji  resigned.. 
I  envy  not  the  more  fortunate  candidates  for  pjiblic  favour : 
I  hold  enmity  to  none.  For  my  read.er8,.if  I  have  any,  all 
I  expect  on  their,  part  is,'  that  they  may,  exhibit  towards  a 
feeble  garrulous  old  ■  man  the  same  disposition  he  feels  for 
them.  'Odifl  diavoiav.iyp  fiiaxiKu  ij(oiv  v^oi-^vatjii  u/j,ag  Togaurrit 
SiariXedrdi,  /j,oi  m'gog  toutdvi  tov  aywi/ct,     (Ajj/ioi!'^.,cr?|;  ffrspav.) 

This  exordium  of  that,  grand  masterpiece,  in  which  the 
Athenian  vindicates  his  title  to  a  crown  of  gold  presented 
by  his  fellow-citizens,  leads  ,  me,,  by.  a  natural  transition,  to 
a  memorable  event  in.  IPetr.arca's  life, -^  that  ebullition 
of  enthusiasm,  when  the  senators  of  Rome,  at  the  sugges- 
tion of  Robert,  King  of  Naples,  and  with  the  applause  and 
concurrence  of  all  the;free  states  of  Italy,  led  the  poet  in 
triumph  to  the  Capitol,  and  placed  on  his  venerable  head  a 
wreath  of  laxirel.  The  coronation  of  the  laureate  who  first 
bore  the  title,  is  too  important  to  be  lightly  glanced  at. 
The  ingenious  Mad.  de  Stael  (who  has  done  more  by  her 
"De  I'Allemagne"  to  give  vogue  to  Germanic  literature 
than  the  whole  schiittery  of  Dutch  authorship  and  tha 


348  PATHEB  PEOri'S   EELIQXIES. 

lanbeSfolge  of  Teutonic  writers),  in  her  romance  of  "  Corin- 
na,"  has  seized  with  avidity  on  the  incident. 

Concerning  thjs  solemn  incoronation,  we  have  from  the 
pen  of  an  eye-witness,  Guido  d'  Arezzo,  details,  told  in  style 
most  quaint,  and  with  sundry  characteristic  comments.  Tk 
those  days  of  primeval  simplicity,  in  the  absence  of  eveiy 
other  topic  of  excitement  (for  the  crusades  had  well  nigh 
worn  themselves  out  of  popular  favour),  the  Selat  attendant 
on  this  occurrence  possessed  a  sort  of  European  interest. 
The  name  of  the  "  Laureate"  (now  worn  by  the  Tenerahle 
dweller  of  the  lakes,  the  patriarch  Southey)  was  then  first 
proclaimed,  amid  the  shouts  of  applauding  thousands,  on 
the  seven  hills  of  the  Eternal  City,  and  echoed  back  with 
enthusiasm  from  the  remotest  corners  of  Christendom.  In 
a  subsequent  age,  when  the  same  honour,  with  the  same  im- 
posing ceremonial,  was  to  be  conferred  on  Tasso,  I  doubt 
whether  the  event  would  have  enlisted  to  the  same  extent 
the  sympathies  of  Europe,  or  the  feelings  even  of  the  Ita- 
lian public.  It  were  bootless,  however,  to  dwell  on  the  pro- 
babilities of  the  case ;  for  Death  interposed  his  veto,  and 
stretched  out  his  bony  hand  between  the  laurel  wreath  and 
the  poor  maniac's  brow,  who,  on  the  very  eve  of  the  day 
fixed  for  his  ovation,  expired  on  the  Janiculum  hill,  in  the 
romantic  hermitage  of  St.  Onufrio.  Oft  have  I  sat  under 
that  same  cloister- wall,  where  he  loved  to  bask  in  the  mild 
ray  of  the  setting  sun,  and  there,  with  Eome's  awful  volume 
spread  out  before  me,  pondered  on  the  frivolity  of  fame. 
The  ever-enduring  vine,  with  its  mellow  freight  dependent 
from  the  antique  pillars,  clustered  above  my  head  ;  while  at 
my  feet  lay  the  flagstone  that  once  covered  his  remains  ;  and 
"  OssA  ToBQTTATi  Tassi,"  deep  carved  on  the  marble  floor, 
abundantly  fed  the  meditative  mind.  Petrarca's  grave  I 
had  previously  visited  in  the  mountain  hamlet  of  Arqu?i, 
during  my  rambles  through  Lombardy  ;  and  whUe  I  silently 
recalled  the  inscription  thereon,  I  breathed  for  both  the 
prayer  that  it  contains — 

"  BEIGIDA  rBANCISCI  TEOIT  HIO  I.APIS  OSSA  PETEAEOa; ! 

BUSCIPE,  VIBGO  PAEENS,  ANIMAM  !   SATE*  VXBaiNE,  PAEOB! 
PEBSAQITE  J^AM  TEEEIS,  0(EH  EEQUIESCAT  IN  AEOE." 

•  The  Eev.  Lawrence  Sterne,  in  his  very  reputable  work  called 


THE    SOiraS    OF   ITALY.  349 

But  a  truce  to  this  moralising  train  of  thought,  and  turn 
we  to  the  gay  scene  described  by  Guido  d'  Arezzo.  Be  it 
then  understood,  that  on  the  morning  of  Easter  Sunday, 
April  15,  1341,  a  period  of  the  ecclesiastical  year  at  which 
crowds  of  pilgrims  visited  the  shrine  of  the  apostles,  and 
Eome  was  thronged  with  the  representatives  of  every  Chris- 
tian land,  after  the  performance  of  a  solemn  high  mass  in 
the  old  Basilica  of  St.  Peter's  (for  religion  in  tho^e  daya 
miied  itself  up  with  every  public  act,  and  sanctified  every 
undertaking),  the  decree  of  Eobert,  King  of  Naples,  was 
duly  read,  setting  forth  how,  after  a  diligent  examination 
and  trial  in  all  the  departments  of  poetry  and  all  the  ac- 
complishments of  elegant  literature,  in  addition  to  a  know- 
ledge most  extensive  of  theology  and  history,  Francis  Pe- 
trarca  had  evinced  unparalleled  proficiency  in  all  the  recog- 
nised acquirements  of  scholarship,  and  given  undoubted 
proofs  of  ability  and  genius ;  wherefore,  in  his  favour,  it 
seemed  fit  and  becoming  that  the  proudest  mark  of  distinc- 
tion known  among  the  ancient  B.omans  should  be  conferred 
on  him,  and  that  all  the  honours  of  the  classic  triumph 
should  be  revived  on  the  occasion.  It  will  be  seen,  how- 
ever, from  the  narrative  of  Guido,  that  some  slight  variations 
of  costume  and  circumstailce  were  introduced  in  the  course 
of  the  exhibition,  and  that  the  getting  up  of  the  afiair  was 
not  altogether  in  literal  accordance  with  the  rubrics  which 
regulated  such  processions  in  the  days  of  Paulus  ^milius, 
when  captive  kings  and  the  milk-white  bulls  of  Clytumnua 
adorned  the  pageantry — 

"Komanos  ad  templa  Deiim  dusSfe  trimnphos." 

Georg.  II. 

"  They  put  on  his  right  foot  (Guido  loquitur)  a  sandal  of 
red  leather,  cut  in  a  queer  shape,  and  fastened  round  the 
ankle  with  purple  ligatures.  This  is  the  way  tragic  poets 
are  shod.    His  left  foot  they  thefl.  inserted  into  a  kind  of 

"  Tristram  Shandy,"  has  the  effrontery  to  translate  tte  curse  of  Emel- 
phuB,  Sx  autoritate  Deiet  Virginia  Dei geneiricts  Maria,  "By  the  autho- 
rity of  God  and  of  the  Virgin,  mother  and  patroness  of  our  Saviour '!" 
thus  distorting  the  original,  to  insinuate  prejudice  against  a  class  of 
fello-w-Christians.  Objection  may  he  felt  to  the  predominance  of  the 
feeling  in  question, — but  fair  play,  Torick ! — PBorT. 


350  PATHEE  PEOTTT'S   EEHQTIES. 

buskin  of  violet  colour,  made  fast  to  the  leg  with  blue 
thongs.  This  is  the  emblem  worn  by  writers  in  the  comic 
line,  and  those  who  compose  agreeable  and  pleasant  matters. 
Violet  is  the  proper  colour  of  love. 

"  Over  his  tunic,  which  was  of  grey  silk,  they  placed  a 
mantle  of  velvet,  lined  with  green  satin,  to  show  that  a 
poet's  ideas  should  always  be  fresh  and  new.  Bound  his 
neck  they  hung  a  chain  of  diamonds,  to  signify  that  his 
thoughts  should  be  brilliant  and  clear.  There  are  many 
mysteries  in  poetry. 

"  They  then  placed  on  his  head  a  mitre  of  gold  cloth, 
tapering  upwards  in  a  conical  shape,  that  the  wreaths  and 
garlands  might  be  more  easily  worn  thereon.  It  had  two 
tails,  or  skirts,  falling  behiud  on  the  shoulders  like  the  mitre 
of  a  bishop.  There  hung  by  his  side  a  lyre  (which  is  the 
poet's  instrument),  suspended  from  a  gold  chain  of  inter- 
woven figures  of  snakes,  to  give  him  to  understand  that  his 
mind  itiust  figuratively  change  its  skin,  and  constantly  re- 
new its  envelope,  like  the  serpent.  When  they  had  ttus 
equipped  him,  they  gave  him  a  your.g  maiden  to  hold  up  his 
train,  her  hair  falling  loose  in  ringlets,  and  her  feet  naked. 
She  was  dressed  in  the  fur  of  a  bear,  and  held  a  lighted 
torch.  This  is  the  emblem  of  folly,  and  is  a  constant  at- 
tendant on  poets !" 

When  "the  business  of  day"  was  over,  the  modem 
fashion  of  winding  up  such  displays  was  perfectly  well  un- 
derstood even  at  that  remote  period,  and  a  dinner  was  given 
to  the  lion  of  the  hour  in  the  still-sumptuous  hall  of  the 
Palazzo  Colonna.  His  "  feeding-time"  being  duly  got 
through,  poetry  and  music  closed  the  eventful  evening  ;  and 
Petrarca  delighted  his  noble  host  and  the  assembled  rank 
and  fashion  of  E,ome  by  dancing  a  Moorish  pas  seul  with 
surprising  grace  and  agility. 

Covered  with  honours,  and  flushed  with  the  applause  of 
his  fellow-countrymen,  the  father  of  Italian  songwasnot 
insensible  to  the  fascinations  of  literary  renown,  nor  deaf  to 
the  whisperings  of  glory ;  but  love,  the  most  exalted  and 
refined,  was  still  the  guiding  star  of  his  path  and  the  arbiter  i 
of  his  destiny.  He  has  left  us  the  avowal  himself,  in  that 
beautiful  record  of  his  inmost  feelings  which  he  has  entitled 
"  Secretum  !Francisci  Petrarchse,"  where,  in  a  fancied  dia- 


THE    SONGS    OF   ITALT.  351 

logue  with  the  kindred  soul  of  St.  Augustin,  he  pours  forth 
the  fuhieaa  of  his  heart  with  all  the  sincerity  of  nature  aud 
of  genius.  No  two  clerical  characters  seem  to  have  been 
endowed  by  nature  with  more  exquisite  sensibilities  than 
the  African  bishop  and  the  priest  of  Provence.  In  the  midst 
of  his  triumph  his  thoughts  wandered  away  to  the  far- 
distant  object  of  his  affection  ;  and  his  miad  was  at  Vaur 
cluse  while  the  giddy  throng  of  his  admirers  showered 
garlands  and  burnt  incense  around  his  person.  He  fondly 
■pictured  to  himself  the  secret  pride  which  the  ladye  of  his 
•love  would  perhaps  feel  ia  hearing  of  his  fame ;  and  the 
laurel  was  doubly  dear  to  him,  because  it  recalled  her  cher- 
ished name.  The  utter  hopelessness  of  his  passion  seemed 
to  shed  an  undefinable  haUowedness  over  the  sensations  of 
his  heart ;  and  it  must  have  been  in  one  of  those  moments 
of  tender  melancholy  that  he  penned  the  following  graceful, 
but  mysterious  narrative  of  a  supposed  or  real  apparition. 

Soiutto. 

TTna  Candida  cerra  sopra  1'  erba 

Verde  m'  apparve  con  duo  coma  d'  ore 
!Pra  due  riviere  all'  ombra  d'  un  alloro, 

Levaudo  '1  sole  alia  stagiou  acerba. 

Era  sua  vista  si  dolce  superba, 

Ch'  i'  lasciai  per  seguirla  ogni  lavoro ; 
'   ,  Come  1'  avaro  che  'n  ceroar  tesoro, 

Con  diletto  1'  affanno  disacerba. 

"  Nesstin  mi  tocchi,"  al  bel  coUo  d'  intorno 

Scritto  aveva  di  diamanti,  e  di  topazj  ; 
"  LiBBEA  SASMl  AL  MIO  CeSAEB  PAEVB." 

Ed  era  '1  sol  gi^  volto  al  mezzo  giorno 
■  GU  oeobi  miei  stanchi  di  mirar,  non  sasi 
4  Quand'  io  caddi  neU'  acqua,  ed  ella  sparve. 

Eljt  Titian  of  ^ttrarta. 

A  form  I  sawwith  secret  awe — nor  ken  I  what  it  warns  ; 
Pure  as  the  snow,  a  gentle  doe  it  seemed  with  sUrer  horns. 
Erect  she  stood,  close  by  a  wood  between  two  running  streams ; 
And  brightly  shone  the  morning  sun  upon  that  land  of  dreams  1 
The  pictured  hind  fancy  designed  glowing  with  love  and  hope  j 
Graceful  she  stept,  but  distant  tept,  hke  the  timid  antelope ; 
Playful,  yet  coy — with  secret  joy  her  image  filled  my  soul; 
,  And  o'er  the  sense  soft  influence  of  sweet  obHviou  stole. 


352  FATHEE   PBOTJt'S   EEMQrES. 

Gold  I  beheld  and  emerald  on  the  collar  that  she  wore ; 
Words  too — but  theirs  were  characters  of  legendary  lore  : 
"  <ffa=ar's  Btcrtc  lialJ)  maot  me  fret ;  anB  lljro'  Ijia  solemn  cliarge, 
ffintoutl)t'D  bg  men  o'er  i)ill  anf  gl't  E  inanBei:  Iiere  at  large." 

The  sun  had  now  with  radiant  brow  climbed  his  meridian  throne, 

Yet  still  mine  eye  untiringly  gazed  on  that  lovely  one. 

A  Toice  was  heard — quick  disappeared  my  dream.       The  spell  was 

broken. 
Then  came  distress — to  the  consciousness  of  life  I  had  awoken ! 

Still,  the  soul  of  Petrarca  was  at  times  accessible  to 
sterner  impressions.  The  call  of  patriotism  never  failed  to 
find  a  responsive  echo  in  the  breast  of  Italy's  most  distin- 
guished son ;  and  v^fhen,  at  the  death  of  Benedict  XII., 
which  occurred  at  this  juncture,  there  arose  a  favourable 
chance  of  serving  his  country,  by  restoring  the  papal  re- 
sidence to  the  widowed  city  of  Home,  he  eagerly  offered 
himself  as  one  of  the  deputies  to  proceed  to  Avignon  for 
the  accomplishment  of  this  wished-for  consummation. 
Whether  a  secret  anxiety  to  revisit  the  scene  of  his  early 
affections,  and  to  enjoy  once  more  the  presence  of  his  mis- 
tress, may  have  mixed  itself  up  with  the  aspirations  of 
patriotism,  it  would  not  be  easy  to  decide  ;  but  he  entered 
into  the  project  with  all  the  warmth  of  a  devoted  lover  of 
Italy.  His  glorious  dithyramb  to  that  delightful,  but  con- 
quered and  divided  land,  so  often  quoted,  translated,  and 
admired,  is  sufficient  evidence  of  his  sentiments :  but  he 
has  taken  care  to  put  the  matter  beyond  doubt  in  his  vi- 
gorous pamphlet,  "  De  Libertate  capessend^  Exhorbatio  ad 
Nicolaum  Laurentium."  This  "  Nicholas"  was  no  other  than 
the  famous  tribune  Cola  Eienzi,  who,  mainly  excited  by  the 
prose  as  well  as  the  poetry  of  Petrarca,  raised  the  standard 
of  independence  against  the  petty  tyrants  of  the  Eternal 
City  in  1345,  and  for  a  brier  s'jace  rescued  it  from  thraldom. 

Poetry  is  the  nurse  of  freedom.  Prom  Tyrtaeus  to  B^ 
ranger,  the  Muse  has  befriended  through  everyage  the  cause 
of  liberty.  The  pulse  of  patriotism  never  beats  with  bolder 
throb  than  when  the  sound  of  martial  song  swells  in  the  full 
chorus  of  manly  voices  ;  and  it  was  in  a  great  measure  the 
rude  energy  of  the  "  Marseillaise"  that  won  for  the  ragged 
and  shoeless  grenadiers  of  the  Convention  the  victories  of 
Yalmy  and  Jemmappe.      In  our  own   country,  Dibdin's 


THE    SONGS   OF   ITALY. 


353 


naval  odes,  full  of  inspiriting  thouglit  and  sublime  imagery, 
have  not  a  little  contributed  to  our  maintaining  in  penlous 
times  the  disputed  empire  of  the  ocean  against  Napoleon. 
Never  was  a  pension  granted  with  more  propriety  than  the 
tribute  to  genius  voted  in  this  case  at  the  recommendation 
of  G-eorge  III. ;  and  I  suppose  a  similar  revrard  has  attended 
the  authors  of  the  "  Mariners  of  England,"  and  "The  Battle 
of  Copenhagen."  As  we  have  come  insensibly  to  the  topic 
of  maritime  minstrelsy,  I  imagine  that  a  specimen  of  the 
stuff  sung  by  the  Venetian  sailors,  at  the  time  when  that 
Queen  of  the  Adriatic  reigned  over  the  waters,  may  not  be 
uninteresting.  The  subject  is  the  naval  victory  which,  at 
the  close  of  the  sixteenth  century,  broke  the  colossal  power 
of  the  Sublime  Porte ;  for  which  occurrence,  by  the  by, 
Europe  was  mainly  indebted  to  the  exertions  of  Pope  Pius  V. 
and  the  prowess  of  one  Miguel  Cervantes,  who  had  a  limb 
shattered  in  the  mdlSe. 

JSarjcUctta  tia  cantar  ptr  le  'Ftttorta  "Hi  Hepanto. 


Cantiam  tutti  allegramente, 
Orsu,  putti !  atteutamente 
Cantiam  tutti  la  rovuia 
Ch'  alia  gente  Saracina 
Dato  liaX)io  si  fortemente. 

Cantiam  tutti  aUegramente, 
Che  con  straocio  al  fier  dragone 
Squarcid  il  fponte  si  orudele, 
Che  mai  piil  drizzer^  vele, 
Che  nel  mar  sia  si  possente. 

Cantiam  tutti  allegramente, 
Cantiam,  putti !  pur  ognora, 
Ch'  il  ladron  di  Caracossa 
Fatt'  ha  1'  Aqua-salsa  rossa 
Del  suo  sangue  di  serpente. 

Cantiam,  putti !  aUegramente, 
Di  tre  sei  d'  otto  e  di  venti 
Gtaleotte  e  altri  legni 
Fii  il  fracasso — o  Turehi !  degni 
Del  gran  fuoco  etemamente ! 


Cantiam  pur  allegramente, 
Come  poi  piii  delle  venti 
Ne  fur  prese  cento  ed  ottanta, 
E  dei  morti  poi  sessanta 
Mila  e  piil  di  queUa  gente. 

Cantiam  tiitti  aUegramente ; 
Ma  ben  duohni  a  dir  ch'  i  nostri 
Pur  da  Bette  mila  ed  otto 
Ivi  morti  (ae  '1  ver  noto), 
Combattendo  audaoemente. 

Cantiam  tutti  aUegramente, 
Dope  questi,  altri  guerrieri 
Yendicar  coll'  arme  in  mano 
QueUi  e  il  nom  Christiano, 
Per  virtft  d'  Iddio  clemente. 

Cantiam  tutti  aUegramente ; 
Per  cotal  vittoria  e  tauta, 
Doveremmo  ogni  an  far  festa, 
Per  che  al  mondo  altra  che  questa 
!Non  fd  mai  d'  alcuno  in  mente. 


A  A 


354  rATHEB  peout's  eeliqtjes. 

i^opular  JSallaU  on  tl^e  33attl(  of  ilepanto. 

Let  us  sing  how  the  boast  of  the  Saracen  host 

In  the  gulf  of  Lepanto  was  spattered. 
When  each  knight  of  St.  John's  from  his  cannon  of  bronzd 

With  grape-shot  their  argosies  battered. 
Oh !  we  taught  the  Turks  then  that  of  Europe  the  men 

Could  defy  every  infidel  menace — 
And  that  still  o'er  the  main  float  the  galleys  of  Spain, 

And  the  red-Uon  standard  of  Venice  ! 

Quick  we  made  the  foe  skulk,  as  we  blazed  at  each  hulk, 

While  they  left  us  a  splinter  to  fire  at ; 
And  the  rest  of  them  fled  o'er  the  waters,  blood  red 

With  the  gore  of  the  Ottoman  pirate ; 
And  oiir  navy  gave  chase  to  the  infidel  race, 

Nor  allowed  them  a  moment  to  rally ; 
And  we  forced  them  at  length  to  acknowledge  our  strength 

In  the  trench,  in  the  field,  in  the  galley !  , 

Then  our  men  gave  a  shout,  and  the  ocean  throughout 

Heard  of  Christendom's  triumph  with  rapture. 
CJaleottes  eighty-nine  of  the  enemy's  line 

To  our  swift-sailing  ships  fell  a  capture  : 
And  I  firmly  maintain  that  the  number  of  slain. 

To  at  least  sixty  thousand  amounted  ; — 
To  be  sure  'twas  sad  work — if  the  Ufe  of  a  Turk 

For  a  moment  were  worth  being  counted. 

We  may  well  feel  elate ;  though  I'm  sorry  to  state. 

That  albeit  by  the  myriad  we've  slain  'em, 
Still,  the  sons  of  the  Cross  have  to  weep  for  the  loss 

Of  sir  thousand  who  fell  by  the  Paynim. 
Full  atonement  was  due  for  each  man  that  they  sleWj 

And  a  hecatomb  paid  for  each  hero : 
But  oouM  all  that  we'd  kill  give  a  son  to  Castile, 

Or  to  Malta  a  brave  cavalh&o  ? 

St.  Mark  for  the  slain  intercedes  not  in  vain — 
There's  a  mass  at  each  altar  in  Venice  j 

And  the  saints  we  implore  for  the  banner  they  bore 

Are  Our  Lady,  St.  George,  and  St.  Denis. 

For  the  brave  while  we  grieve,  in  our  hearts  they  shall  live- 
In  our  mouths  shall  their  praise  be  incessant ; 

And  again  and  again  we  wiU  boast  of  the  men 
Who  have  humbled  the  pride  of  the  Crescent. 

The  Venetians  have   been  ever    remarkable  for   poetic 
fcaste ;  and  the  verv  humblest  classes  of  society  amongst 


THE    SONGS    OE   ITALY. 


855 


them  exhibit  a  fondness  for  the  great  masters  of  their  native 
language,  and  a  familiarity  with  the  glorious  effusions  of  the 
national  genius,  quite  unknown  in  the  corresponding  rank 
of  tradesmen  and  artisans  ia  England.  Goldoni,  who  wrote 
in  their  own  dialect,  knew  the  sort  of  critics  he  had  to  deal 
with :  and  it  is  a  fact  that  the  most  formidable  judges  of 
dramatic  excellence  at  the  theatres  of  Venice  were  the  gon- 
doliers. Addison,  or  rather  Isaac  Bickerstaff,  tells  us  a 
droll  story  about  a  certain  trunkmaker,  who  stationed  him- 
self in  the  gallery  of  Drury  Lane,  and  with  a  whack  of  his 
oaken  cudgel  ratified  the  success  or  confirmed  the  downfal 
of  each  new  tragic  performance.  I  think  the  author  of  the 
"  Spectator"  must  have  had  the  original  hint  of  that  anec- 
dote during  his  stay  at  Venice,  where  such  a  verdict  from 
such  a  quarter  was  a  matter  of  habitual  occurrence.  There 
is  great  delicacy  of  feeling  and  polish  of  expression  in  the 
following  ingenious  popular  barcarolle  of  Venetian  origin: — 

JSarcavolle. 

"Prithee,    young  fisherman,   como 
over — 

Hither  thy  light  hark  hring ; 
Eow  to  this  bank,  and  try  recover 

My  treasure — 'tis  a  ring !" 

The  fisher-boy  of  Como'a  lake 
His  bonny  boat  soon  brought  her. 

And  promised  for  her  beauty's  sake 
To  search  beneath  the  water. 

"  m  give  thee,"  said  the  ladye  fair, 
"  One  hundred  sequins  bright. 

If  to  my  viUa  thou  wilt  bear, 
Fisher,  that  ring  to-night." 

"A  hundred  sequins  I'U  refuse 

When  I  shall  come  at  eve : 
But    there    is    something,    if   you 
choose. 
Lady,  that  you  can  give !" 
The  ring  was   found  beneath  the 
floods 
Nor  need  my  lay  record 
What  was  that  lady's  gratitude, 
What  was  that  youth's  reward. 
A  \2 


Oh  pescator  dell'  onda, 

Kdelin, 
Vieni  pescar  in  qui 
CoUa  beUa  sua  barca. 
CoUa  bella  se  ne  va, 

Fidelin,  hn,  Ih. 
Che  cosa  vuol  ch'  io  peschi  ? 

Fidelin, 
L'anel  ohe  m'  e  casca, 
Colla  bella  sua  barca. 
Colla  bella  se  ne  va,  &c. 

Ti  dar6  cento  scudi, 

Fidelin, 
Sta  borsa  ricama, 
Colla  bella  sua  barca. 
CoUa  bella  se  ne  va,  &c. 
Won  vogHo  cento  scudi, 

Fidelin, 
Ne  borsa  ricama, 
Colla  beUa  sua  barca. 
CoUa  bella  se  ne  va,  &c. 
Io  vo  un  basin  d'  amore, 

Fidelin, 
Che  quel  mi  paghera, 
CoUa  bella  sua  bocca. 
CoUa  bella  se  ne  va,  &c. 


356 


TATHEE  PEOUT'S  EELIQUES. 


A  Milanese  poet,  rejoicing  in  tbe  intellectual  patronymic 
of  Nicodemo,  has  distinguished  himself  in  a  different  species 
of  composition,  viz.  the  heroic.  There  is,  however,  I  am 
free  to  confess,  a  rather  ungenerous  sort  of  exultation  over 
a  fallen  foe  perceptible  in  the  lyrical  poem  which  I  am 
about  to  introduce  for  the  first  time  to  a  British  public. 
Dryden  has  very  properly  excited  our  commiseration  for 
"  Darius,  great  and  good,  deserted  in  his  utmost  need 
by  those  his  former  bounty  fed  ;"  but  far  different  are  the 
sentiments  of  Signor  Nicodemo,  who  does  not  hesitate  to 
denounce  the  vanquished  in  no  very  measured  terms  of  op- 
probrious invective.  I  suspect  he  has  been  equally  profuse 
of  lavish  encomium  during  its  prosperous  days  on  that 
power  which  he  seeks  to  cover  with  derision  in  its  fall :  and 
I  need  not  add  that  I  totally  dissent  from  the  political 
opinions  of  the  author.  However,  let  the  gentle  reader 
form  his  own  estimate  of  the  poet's  performance. 


Ha  iFuga, 

di  Napoleone  Bonaparte  senza 
spada,  e  senza  bastone,  e 
senza  capello,  eferito  in  tes- 
ta; T  acquisto  fatto  dei  Prus- 
siani  de  oro,  argento,  bril- 
lanii,  e  di  suo  manta  impe- 
riale  l  e  finalmente  il  felice 
ritomo  netla  citta  di  Parigi 
di  sua  maestci,  Luigi  XVI 1 1. 

Di  Nicodemo  Lermil. 
AttiA  di  "Malbrook."' 
Grii*  TiQto  Napoleone 
Con  fuga  desperata, 
Era  la  Frussiana  annata 
Di  trapassar  tentd ; 

Ma  sgombro  di  tesori, 
Deluso  nei  disegni — 
Privo  d'impero  e  regni, 
Qual  nacque,  ritom6. 

Afflitto  e  delirante, 
Confuso  e  sbigottito, 
Col  capo  suo  ferito, 
H  misero  fuggi. 


a  Cruf  JSallall, 

containing  the  Flight  of  Napoleon  Buona- 
parte, with  the  loss  of  his  sword,  his  hat, 
and  imperial  baton,  besides  a  wound  in  the 
head;  the  good  luck  of  the  Prussians  in 
getting  hold  of  his  valuables,  in  diamonds 
and  other  property :  and,  lastly,  the  happy 
entry  of  his  Majesty,  Louis  Dixhuit,  into 
Paris, 


From  the  Italian  of  Nicodemus  Lermil. 
Tune — "  Ou  Linden  when." 
When  Bonaparte,  OTercome, 
Med  from  the  sound  of  Prussian  drum, 
Aghast,  discomfited,  and  dumb, 

Wrapt  in  hia  roquelaure, — 

To  wealth  and  power  he  bade  adieu — 
Affairs  were  looking  Prussia  blue : 
In  emblematic  tatters  flew 

The  glorious  tricolor. 

What  once  had  seemed  flxt  as  a  rook, 
Had  now  received  a  fatal  shock ; 
And  he  himself  had  got  a  knock 

Prom  a  Cossack  on  the  head  ! 


THE   SONGS    OP   ITALY. 


S57 


Senza  poter  portarsi, 
Spada,  baeton,  capeUo, 
Involto  in  vin  mantello 
Da  tutt'  i  Buoi  spari. 

Argento,  oro,  brillanti, 
n  manto  suo  imperiale, 
Con  gioia  universale 
Da'  Prussi  s'  aoquistS. 

Ma  non  potfe  acqviistarsi 
(Ben  che  non  y'  h  paura) 
L'  autor  d'  ogni  sventura, 
Che  tutti  rovinb. 

Pugitto  Buonaparte, 
Subito  eutrd  in  Parigi 
H  buon  sovran  Luigi, 
Che  tutti  rallegrb. 

Fft  la  citt^  di  notte 
Da  ognuno  illuminata ; 
Piil  vista  amena  e  grata 
Giammai  non  si  mirS. 

Eimbombo  di  canoni, 
Aeclamaziou  di  "Ewiva! ' 
Per  tutto  se  sentiva 
SYequente  repHcar. 

La  Candida  bandiera, 
Coi  giglj  che  teneva, 
Per  tutto  si  vedeva 
Piil  speseo  ventilar. 

Spettacolo  si  vago, 
Eioordo  si  giocondo, 
Parigi,  Italia,  U  mondo, 
Fe  tutti  consolar. 

Perche  ftiggl  ramingo, 
E  con  suo  desonore, 
li'  indegno  usurpatore — 
E  non  pu6  pi   regnar. 

Murat  e  Wapoleone 
Tenete  i  cuori  a  freuo 
Non  vi  awiUte  almeno 
Che  e  cosa  da  schiattar. 


Gone  was  his  hat,  lost  was  his  hope  ; 
The  hand,  that  once  had  smote  the  Pope, 
Had  even  dropped  its  telescope 
In  the  hurry  as  he  fled. 

Old  Bluoher''s  corps  a  capture  made 
Of  his  mantle,  sabre,  and  cockade  ; 
Which  in  "Kag  Fair"  would,  "  from  the 
trade," 

No  doubt  a  trifle  fetch. 

But  though  the  Prussians  ('tis  confest) 
Of  aU  his  wardrobe  got  the  best, 
(Besides  the  military  chest). 

Himself  they  could  not  catch. 

He's  gone  somewhere  beyond  the  seas. 
To  expiate  his  rogueries  : 
King  Louis  iu  the  TuUeries 

Has  recommenced  to  reign. 

Gladness  pervades  the  allied  camps. 
And  nought  the  public  triumph  damps ; 
But  every  house  is  lit  with  lamps. 
E'en  in  each  broken  pane. 

Paris  is  one  vast  scene  of  joy  ; 
And  all  her  citizens  employ 
Their  throats  in  shouting  Vive  le  roi  ■' 
Amid  the  roar  of  cannon. 

Oh !  when  they  saw  the  "  blanc  drapeau" 
Once  more  displayed,  they  shouted  so 
You  could  have  heard  them  from  the  Po, 
Or  from  the  banks  of  Shannon. 

Gadzooks  !  it  was,  upon  my  fay, 
An  European  holyday ; 
And  the  land  laughed,  and  all  were  gay, 
Except  the  aam  culottes. 

You'd  see  the  people  playing  cards. 
And  gay  grisettes  and  dragoon  guards 
Dancing  along  the  boulevards — 

Of  brandy  there  were  lots ! 

Now,  Bonaparte  and  Murat, 

My  worthy  heroes  !  after  that, 

I'd  like  to  know  what  you'll  be  at — 

I  think  you  must  feel  nervous 


358  TATHEE   PEOTJT'S    EEIiIQrES. 

Ma  se  desperazione  Perhaps  you  are  not  so  besotted 

Mai  Ti  togliesse  il  lume  As  to  be  cutting  the  "carotid" — 

II  pill  vicino  flume  But  there's  the  horsepond  ! — there,  odd 

Potete  ritrovar.  rot  it ! 

From  such  an  end  preserve  us ! 

If  this  poet  Nicodemo  be  in  reality  what  I  surmise  he  is, 
a  literary  renegade,  and  a  wretch  whose  venal  lyre  gjves 
I'orth  alternate  eulogy  and  abuse,  just  aa  the  political  ther- 
mometer indicates  rise  or  fall,  I  should  deem  him  a  much 
fitter  candidate  for  the  "  horsepond"  than  either  Bony  or 
•Toachim.  But,  alas  !  how  many  sad  instances  have  we  not 
linown  of  similar  tergiversation  in  the  conduct  of  gens  de 
lettres  !  I  just  mentioned  Dryden,  commonly  denominated 
"  glorious  John,"  and  what  a  sad  example  is  there  of  poli- 
tical dishonesty  !  After  flattering  in  turns  Cromwell  and 
Charles  II.,  King  James  and  King  William,  he  died  of  a 
broken  heart,  deserted  by  all  parties.  In  his  panegyric  on 
canting  old  NoE.,  it  would  seem  that  the  poet  was  at  a  loss 
how  to  grapple  with  his  mighty  subject,  could  not  discover 
a  beginning  to  his  praise :  the  perfect  rotundity  of  the 
theme  precluding  the  possibility  of  finding  commencement 
or  end : 

"  Within  a  fame  so  truly  circular .'" 

But  turning  from  such  conceits,  and  from  courtly  writers, 
to  a  simpler  style  of  thought,  may  I  think  this  trifling,  but 
genuine  rustic  lay  worthy  of  perusal  ? — 

(Sanjomtta.  ©illage  ^ong;. 

Son  povera  ragazza,  Husbands,  they  tell  me,  gold  hath  won 

E  cerco  di  marito ;  More  than  aught  else  beside  : 

Se  trovo  buon  partito.  Gold  I  have  none ;  can  I  find  one 

Mi  TogUo  maritar..  To  take  me  for  his  bride  ? 

Ma  ohi  sa  ?  Tet  who  knows 

Chi  lo  sa  ?  How  the  wind  blows— 

lo  cerco  di  marito,  Or  who  can  say 

Se  lo  posso  ritrovar  ?  I'll  not  find  one  to-day  ? 

lo  faccio  la  sartora,  I  can  embroider,  I  can  sew — 

Questo  6  il  mio  mestieroj  A  husband  I  could  aid  ; 

Ti  dioo  si  davvcro,  I  have  no  dowry  to  bestow — 

E  so  ben  travagiiar.  Must  I  remain  a  maid  ? 

Ma  chi  sa  ?  Yet  who  knows 

Ohi  lo  sa  ?  How  the  wind  blows — 

lo  cerco  di  marito,  Or  who  can  say 

Se  lo  posso  ritrovar  ?  I'll  not  find  one  to-day  ? 


THE    SONGS  01'   ITALY.  359 

Gi^  d'  anni  venticinque  A  simple  maid  I've  been  too  long — 

Mi  troTO  cosi  sola,  A  husband  I  would  find ; 

Ti  giuro  e  do  parola  But  then  to  ast — no  ! — that  were  wrong; 

Mi  sento  al  fin  manoar.  So  I  must  be  resigned. 

Ma  chi  sa  ?  Yet  who  knows 

Chi  lo  sa  ?  How  the  wind  blows— 

lo  oerco  di  maiito,  Or  who  can  say 

Se  lo  poBso  ritroTar  ?  I'll  not  find  one  to-day  ? 

Simplicifcy  is  the  inseparable  companion  of  the  graces ; 
and  the  extreme  perfection  of  art  is  to  conceal  itself  imder 
the  guise  of  unstudied  negligence.  This  excellence  is  only 
attaiuable  by  a  few ;  and  among  the  writers  of  antiquity  is 
most  remarkable  in  the  pages  of  Xenophon.  Never  will 
the  "  true  ease  in  writiag,"  which,  according  to  that  most 
elaborate,  but  stiU.  most  fluent  writer.  Pope,  "  comes  from 
pxb,  not  chance,"  be  acquired  otherwise  than  by  a  diligent 
study  of  the  old  classics,  "and  in  particular  of  what  Horace 
calls  the  exemplaria  Grceea.  Flaccus  himself,  in  his  sermo 
pedestris,  as  well  as  his  inimitably  lyrics,  has  given  us  beaa- 
tifal  specimens  of  what  seems  the  spontaneous  flow  of  un- 
studied fancy,  but  it  is  in  reality  the  result  of  deep  thought 
and  of  constant  linuB  labor.  Menziui,  the  author  of  the 
foUowLug  sonnet  on  a  very  simple  subject,  must  have  drunk 
deeply  at  the  source  of  Greciau  elegance.  ' 

il  Capro. 

Menzini. 

Quel  eapro  maledetto  ha  preso  in  uso 

Gir  trS,  le  vite,  e  sempre  in  lor  s'impaccia : 
Deh !  per  farlo  soordar  di  simU  traccia, 

Dagli  d'  un  sasso  tra  le  coma  e  '1  muao. 

Se  Bacco  fl  guata,  ei  scenderS,  ben  giuso 
Da  (juel  suo  carro,  a  cui  le  tigri  allaooia ; 
Pill  ferooe  lo  sdegno  oltre  si  oacoia 

Quand'  h  con  quel  suo  Tin'  misto  e  confiiso. 

Fa  di  scacoiarlo,  Elpia ;  fa  che  non  stenda 

MaUgno  il  dente  ;  e  piil  non  roda  in  yetta 
L'  uve  nascenti,  ed  il  lor  nume  ofienda. 

Di  lui  so  ben  ch'  un  di  1'  altar  1'  aspetta ; 

Ma  Bacco  e  da  temer  che  ancor  non  prenda 
Del  capro  insieme  e  del  pastor  vendetta. 


360  TATHEB  PEOUT'S   EEIIQUES. 

C]^t  jfntruUti-. 

There's  a  goat  in  the  vineyard !  an  unbidden  guest- 
He  comes  here  to  deyour  and  to  trample ; 

If  he  keep  not  aloof,  I  must  make,  I  protest. 
Of  the  trespassing  rogue  an  example. 

Let  this  stone,  which  I  fling  at  his  ignorant  head. 
Deep  imprest  in  his  skull  leave  its  moral, — 

That  a  four-footed  beast  'mid  the  vines  should  not  tread, 
Nor  attempt  with  great  Bacchus  to  quarrel. 

Should  the  god  on  his  oar,  to  which  tigers  are  yoked. 

Chance  to  pass^and  espy  such  a  scandal, 
Quick  he'd  mark  his  displeasure— most  justly  provoked 

At  the  sight  of  this  four-footed  Vandal. 
To  encounter  his  vfrath,  or  be  foxmd  on  his  path, 

In  the  spring  when  his  godship  is  sober, 
SiUy  goat !  would  be  rash ; — and  you  fear  not  the  lash 

Of  the  god  in  the  month  of  October  ! 

In  each  himch,  thus  profaned  by  an  insolent  tooth. 

There  has  perish' d  a  goblet  of  nectar  j 
Fitting  vengeance  will  follow  those  gambols  uncoutli, 

For  the  grape  has  a  jealous  protector. 
On  the  altar  of  Bacchus  a  victim  must  bleed, 

To  avert  a  more  serious  disaster ; 
Lest  the  ire  of  the  deity  visit  the  deed 

Of  the  goat  on  his  negligent  master. 

It  is  no  part  of  my  code  of  criticism  to  tolerate,  under 
the  plea  of  simplicity,  that  maudlin,  emasculate  style  super- 
induced among  the  Italians  by  their  language's  fatal  fertDity 
in  canorous  rhymes.  The  very  sweetness  and  nielody  of  their 
idiom  is  thus  not  unfrequently  the  bane  of  original  thought 
and  of  forcible  expressioh  : 

Deh !  fosse  tu  men  beUa,  o  almen  piii  forte ! 

"  Nugm  canora  "  might  form  a  sort  of  running  marginal  com- 
ment on  almost  every  page  of  Metastasio  ;  and  few  indeed 
are  the  passages  in  the  works  of  some  of  his  more  celebrated 
fellow-countrymen  which  can  bear  to  be  submitted  to  the 
test  of  translation.  This  experimental  process  will  ever  be 
destructive  of  whatever  relies  on  mere  euphonous  phrase- 
ology for  its  effect ;  and  many  a  favourite  Italian  efiusion 
has  succumbed  to  the  ordeal.  I  would  instance  the  "  Bacco 
in  Toscana  "  of  Eedi,  which  the  graceful  pen  of  Leigh  Himt 


THE    SONGS   OP   ITALY.  361 

Bouglit  in  vain  to  popularise  in  English.  So  true  it  is  that 
nothing  can  compensate  for  a  lack  of  ideas — not  even  Delia 
Cruscan  parlance  issuing  from  a  "  bocca  Romana."  Lord 
Byron  ("  Childe  Harpld,"  iv.  38),  in  vindication  of  Tasso 
from  the  sarcasm  of  a  French  critic,  denounces,  perhaps 
justly,  G-aUia's 

"  creaking  lyre, 
That  whetstone  of  the  teeth,  monotony  in  wire :'' 

for  it  is  admitted  that  the  metallic  strings  he  thus  attributes 
to  the  !Prench  instrument  cannot  vie  in.  liquid  harmony  vsdth 
the  softer  catgut  of  its  rival.  But  were  his  lordship  suffici- 
ently conversant  with  the  poets  of  TVance,  he  would  perhaps 
find  that  fhei/  rarely  substitute  for  rational  meaning  mere 
empty  sound.  It  cannot,  on  the  other  hand,  be  denied,  that 
when  a  language  is  thoroughly  pervaded  with  what  the  Greeks 
call  o/io/oreXsuroi/,  running,  in  fact,  spontaneously  into  rhyme, 
it  offers  manifold  temptations  to  the  inditing  of  what  are 
called  "  nonsense  verses."  Like  the  beasts  of  old  entering 
Noah's  Ark  two  and  two,  the  couplets  of  the  Italian  versifier 
pair  themselves  of  their  ovm  accord  without  the  least  trouble. 
But,  unfortunately,  one  of  the  great  recommendations  of 
rhyme,  as  of  metrical  numbers,  to  the  intellect  is,  the  con- 
sciousness involved  of  a  difficulty  overcome  :  and  hence  pre- 
cisely was  the  admiration  excited  by  the  inventive  faculty  of 
the  poet  early  characterised  in  the  words  "  trouvere,"  "  trouba- 
dour," from  "  trouver,"  to  "find."  If  there  be  no  research 
requisite — if  the  exploit  be  one  of  obvious  facility — the  mind 
takes  no  interest  in  the  iaglorious  pxirsuit,  which,  under 
such  circumstances,  appears  flat  and  unmeaning.  A  genuine 
poet,  as  well  as  his  reader,  enjoys  the  mental  chase  in.  pro- 
portion to  the  wild  and  untameable  nature  of  the  game.  In 
a  word,  Italian  "  bouts  rimh  "  are  far  too  easUy  bagged :  the 
sportsman's  occupation  on  Parnassus  becomes  an  effeminate 
pastime ;  'tis,  in  fact,  mere  pigeon-shooting :  whereas  "  optat 
aprum"  has  been  always  predicated  of  the  classic  hunter; 
and  Jemmy  Thomson  very  properly  observes,  that 

'  Poor  is  the  triumph  o'er  the  timid  hare  !" 

An  ingenious  Frenchman  (the  Chevalier  de  la  JFaye),  in 
his  "Apology"  for  the  supposed  difficulties  of  rhyme  in  our 


362  FATHEE   PEOUt's   EELIQTTES. 

Cisalpine  dialects,  maintains  the  theory  I  here  propound,  ia 
some  very  felicitous  lines,  where,  pointing  the  attention  of 
his  countrymen  to  the  numerous  jets  d'eau  that  ornament 
the  gardens  of  the  Tuileries,  Versailles,  and  St.  Cloud,  he 
steps  up  a  striking  parallel,  not  less  witty  than  true.  The 
strophe  runs  thus  : — 

De  la  contrainte  rigoureuse  From  tlie  rhyme's  restriotive  rigour 
Oil  I'esprit  semble  resemS,  Thought  derives  its  impulse  oft, 

II  aoquiert  une  force  heurense  G-enius  draws  new  strength  andvigour, 
Q,ui  Televe  au  plus  haut  d^gre;  Fancy  springs  and  shoots  aloft. 

Telle  dans  des  canaux  pressee  So,  in  leaden  conduits  pent, 

Avec  plus  de  force  elanoee,  Mounts  the  liquid  element, 
L'onde  s'^lfeve  dans  les  airs, —  By  pressure  forced  to  cUmb : 

Et  la  r^gle  qui  semble  austere  And  he  who  feared  the  rule's  restraint 

N'est  qu'un  art  plus  certain  de  Finds  but  a  friendly  ministrant 

plaire,  In  Season's  helpmate,  Ehtme. 

Inseparable  des  beaux  vers. 

I  must  add,  that  long  previously  the  same  doctrine'  had 
been  included  by  the  grammarian  Vossius,  in  his  tract  "  De 
Viribus  Cantiis  et  Eythmi,"  where  he  remarks,  "Mc  rations 
non  ornatui  tanthn,  sed  et  verborum  consulitur  copite."  Hence 
it  would  follow,  that  far  from  being  a  bar  to  the  birth  of 
genuine  poetry  among  the  Northerns,  the  difficulties  of  a 
ruder  idiom  only  give  an  impulse  to  the  exertion  of  the 
faculty  itself,  and  a  relish  to  the  enjoyment  of  its  produc- 
tions. It  becomes  sufficiently  obvious,  from  what  we  have 
laid  down,  that  restrictions  and  shackles  are  the  very  essence 
of  rhythmic  writing  ;  by  devoting  himself  to  which,  the. poet 
assumes,  of  his  own  free  will,  the  situation  of  "  Prometheus 
vinctus  ;"  and,  in  a  spirit  akin  to  that  of  St.  Paul,  openly 
professes  his  predilection  for  "  these  bonds."  Prose  may 
rejoice  in  its  Latin  designation  of  soluta  oratio ;  but  a  vo- 
luntary thraldom  is  the  natural  condition  of  poetry,  as  may 
be  inferred  from  the  converse  term,  oratio  striata.  The  Ita- 
lian poet  is  distinguishable  among  his  feUow-captives  by  the 
light  aerial  nature  of  his  fetters  ;  and  versi  sciolti  may  be 
applied  to  more  than  one  species  of  his  country's  versifica- 
tion. This  will  strike  any  one  who  takes  up  the  libretto  of 
an  opera.  Nevertheless,  let  us  envy  not  the  smooth  and 
Sybarite  stanza,  nor  covet  the  facile  and  flowing  vocabulary, 
nor  complain  of  the  wild  and  irregular  terminations  with 
which  we  have  to  struggle.    There  is  more  dignity  in  the 


THE    SONGS    01'   ITALY.  3G3 

march  of  a  manly  barbarian  than  in  the  gait  of  an  enervated 
fop ;  and  with  all  the  cumbrous  irons  of  a  rude  language, 
were  it  but  for  his  very  mode  of  bearing  the  chains,  a  Briton 
win  be  stUl  admired  as  he  treads  the  paths  of  poetry : 

Intaotns  aut  Britannus  ut  descenderet 
Sacr^  cateuatua  vi&. 

Epod.  vii. 

I  shall  not  be  accused  of  travelling  out  of  the  record  in 
touching  incidentally  on  this  matter,  which,  indeed,  woidd 
properly  require  a  special  dissertation.  But  to  return  to 
my  theme.  Prom  among  those  numerous  compositions  of 
which  the  "moon,"  a  "nightingale,"  a  "grove,"  and  a 
"  lady's  balcony,"  form  the  old  established  ingredients  in  all 
languages,  I  shall  select  the  following  Italian  specimen, 
which,  if  it  present  little  novelty  of  invention,  has,  en  re- 
vanche, decidedly  the  charm  of  sweetest  melody  of  ex- 
pression. 

Yitlorelli. 

Giiarda  che  bianca  luna !  Blla  che  il  sente  appena 

Qxiarda  che  notte  azzurra  j  Gri^  vien  di  fronda  in  fronda, 

Uu'  auranon  susurra,  E  par  che  gli  responda 
Non  tremola  \ma  stel.  Ifon  piangere,  eon  qui. 

li'  usignuoletto  solo  Che  dolci  afietti,  o  Irene, 

Va  dalla  siepe  all'  omo  Che  gemiti  eon  questi ! 

B  BOBpirando  intomo  Ah  !  mai  tu  non  sapesti 
Chiania  la  sua  fidel.  Kispondermi  cosi. 

^  ^ereitatle. 

Pale  to-night  is  the  disc  of  the  moon,  and  of  azure  unmixt 

Is  the  bonny  blue  sky  it  lies  on  ; 
And  silent  the  streamlet,  and  hushed  is  the  zephyr,  and  fixfc 

Is  each  star  in  the  cabn  horizon  j 
And  the  hamlet  is  lulled  to  repose,  and  aU  nature  is  BtiU-r- 

How  soft,  how  mild  her  slumbers  ! 
And  naught  but  the  nightingale's  note  is  awake,  and  the  thrill 

Of  his  sweetly  plaintive  numbers. 

His  song  wakes  an  echo  !  it  comes  from  the  neighbouring  grove^ 

Love's  sweet  responsive  anthem  ! 
Lady !  list  to  the  vocahst !  dost  thou  not  envy  his  love ! 

And  the  joys  his  mate  will  grant  him  ? 


364  TATHEE  PBOTTT'S   EELIQUES. 

Oh,  smile  on  thy  lover  to-night !  ,let  a  transient  hope 

Ease  the  heart  with  sorrow  laden  : 
From  yon  balcony  wave  the  fond  signal  a  moment — and  ope 

Thy  casement,  fairest  maiden  ! 

The  author  of  the  above  is  a  certain  Yittorelli,  celebrated 
among  the  more  recent  poets  of  Italy  for  the  smooth  ame- 
nity of  his  Anacreontics ;  of  which,  however,  I  regret  to 
say  that  many  are  of  a  very  washy  consistency,  generally 
constituting,  when  submitted  to  critical  analysis,  that  sort 
of  chemical  residuum  which  the  French  would  call  "  de  I'eau 
claire."  An  additional  sample  of  his  style  wiU  convey  a 
sufficient  notion  of  his  own  and  his  brethren's  capabilities 
in  the  sentimental  line  :  but  ere  we  give  the  Italian  original 
with  our  "  translation,"  it  were  advisable  to  attune  our  ear 
to  the  harmony  of  true  "  nonsense  verse,"  of  which  Dean 
Swift  has  left  mankind  so  famous  a  model  in  the  memorable 
ode— 

Fluttering,  spread  thy  purple  pinions, 

Q-entle  Cupid  !  o'er  my  heart ; 
While  a  slave  in  thy  domiuious, 

Nature  must  give  way  to  art. 

Mild  Arcadians  !  ever  blooming, 

Nightly  nodding  o'er  your  flocks, 
See  my  weary  days  consuming. 

All  beneath  your  flowery  rooks. 

CHoomy  Pluto,  king  of  terrors ! 

Arm'd  in  adamantine  chains, 
Lead  me  to  the  crystal  mirrors 

Watering  soft  Elysian  plains. 

Mournful  cypress,  verdant  willow, 

Gilding  my  AureUa's  brows ; 
Morpheus,  hovering  o'er  my  pillow. 

Hear  me  say  my  dying  vows  ! 

Melancholy,  smooth  meander .' 

Sweetly  purling  in  a  round ; 
On  thy  margin  lovers  wander, 

AH  with  flowery  ehaplets  crowned— 

i.  e.  "  all  round  my  hat."    Now  for  Yittorelli. 


'IIiE  Gift  o£  Vmus 


THE    SONGS    OF   ITALY. 


363 


{I  iBmio  Jji  JiFeneie.  C^e  (gift  of  ®tnu5. 

Cinta  le  bionde  ohiome  With  roses  wreathed  around  his  ringlets, 

Delia  matema  rosa  Steeped  in  drops  of  matin  dew, 

Sull'  alba  mgiadosa,  Grhding  soft  on  silken  winglets, 

Venne  il  fanoiuUo  Amor.  Oupid  to  my  study  flew ; 

On  my  table  a  decanter 

Stood — perhaps  there  might  be  two — 
When  I  had  with  the  enchanter 
(Happy  bard !)  this  interview. 
Sure  it  was  the  loveliest  vision 

Ever  poet  gazed  upon — 
Rapt  in  ecstasy  Elysian, 

Or  iuspired  by  cruiskeen  lawn. 
"Poet,"  said  the  urchin,  "  few  are 

So  far  favoured  among  men — 
Venus  sends  by  me  to  you  her 
Compliments  and  a  new  pen. 

"  Taie  this  quiU — 'tis  soft  and  slender, 

Fit  for  writing  billets  dovjc. 
Fond  avowals,  breathings  tender. 

Which  Iren^  may  peruse. 
'Tis  no  vulgar  acquisition — 

'Twas  from  no  goose  pinion  drawn  ; 
But,  by  Leda's  kind  permission, 

Borrowed  from  her  favourite  swan. 

"  Si^Uy  not  the  virgin  candour 

Of  its  down  so  white  and  rare ; 
Let  It  fie'er  be  dipp'd  in  slander, 
.  'Gtainst  the  witty  or  the  fair. 
•. :    '  Lend  it  not  to  that  Patlauder 

•   ;  J Denny  Lafdner ;  nor  to  Watts 

(Si^t '  Ahuiio  Alexander') ; 

Let  some  dull,  congenial  gander 

Furnish  charlatans  and  sots." 

What  a  difference  between  the  feeble  and  effeminate  tone 
of  these  modern  effusioris,  and  the  bold,  manly,  and  fre- 
quently sublime  conceptions  of  the  bards  ■who  wrote  in  the 
golden  age  of  Leo  X.,  under  the  influence  of  that  magic 
century  which  gave  birth  to  such  a  crowd  of  eminent  per- 
sonages in  all  the  walks  of  literature !  The  name  of  Michel 
Angelo  is  familiar  to  most  reader's  in  the  character  of  an 
artist ;  but  few,  perhaps,  wiU  be  prepared  to  make  his 
acquaintance  in  the  capacity  of  a  poet.  Nevertheless,  it 
gives  me  satisfaction  to  have  it  in  my  power  to  introduce 
the  illustrious  Buonarotti  in  that  unexpected  character. 


E  colla  dolce  bocca 
Mi  disse  in  aria  lieta  .— 
"  Che  fai  gcntU  poeta 

D'  Irene  lodatorf" 


Questa  nevosa  peuna 
Di  cigno  immacohito, 
Sul  desco  fortunate 

lo  lascio  in  dono  a  te. 


Serba  la  ognor,  geloao 
E  scriverai  d'  amoi-e ;  ' 
If  on  cede  il  buo  candors^:. 

Che  a  quel  della.Riafe. 


366  TATHEE  PBOTTT'S  EEIilQTJES. 


ai  €tocifiiio. 

Qivmto  h  gik  il  corso  della  vita  mia. 
Per  tempestoao  mar  con  fragil  barca,  ' 

Al  oomun  porto,  ove  a  render  se  varoa 
Conto  e  ragion  d'  ogni  opra  triste  e  pia. 
Ma  r  alta  afiettuosa  fantasia, 

Che  r  arte  mi  fece  idolo  e  monarca, 

ConOBOo  or  ben  quanta  sia  d'  error  carca, 
'E  quel  che  mal  buo  grado  ognun  desia ; 
Gli  amorosi  pensier  gik  Tani  e  lieti 

Che  fien  or  s'  a  due  morte  m'  awieino  ? 

D'  uno  so  certo,  e  1'  altra  mi  minaccia. 
Ne  pinger  nh  Bcolpir  fla  piil  che  queti 

L'  anima  volta  a  quel  amor  divino 

Che  aperse  in  oroce  a  prender  noi  le  braccia. 

iiHicI)cl  angtlo'S  dTartJurtl  to  gnulpture. 

I  feel  that  I  am  growing  old — 
My  lamp  of  clay  !  thy  flame,  behold ! 
'Gins  to  burn  low :  and, I've  unrolled 
My  life's  eventftil  volume ! 

The  sea  has  borne  my  fragile  bark 
Close  to  the  shore — now,  rising  dark. 
O'er  the  subsiding  wave  I  mark 

This  brief  world's  final  column. 

'Tis  time,  my  soul,  for  pensive  mood, 
For  holy  calm  and  BoHtude ; 
Then  cease  henceforward  to  delude 

Thyself  with  fleeting  vanity. 

The  pride  of  art,  the  sculptured  thought,  ' 

Vain  idols  that  my  hand  hath  wrought— 
To  place  my  trust  in  such  were  nought 
But  sheer  insanity. 

What  can  the  pencil's  power  achieve  ? 
What  can  the  chisel's  triumph  give? 
A  name  perhaps  on  earth  may  five. 
And  travel  to  posterity. 

But  can  proud  Rome's  Pantheon  tell, 
.  If  for  the  soul  of  Bafifaelle* 
His  glorious  obsequies  could  quell 

The  Judomeni-Seat's  severity  ? 

His  body  was  laid  out  in  state  in  the  church  of  St.  Maria  Botonds 


TUE    SONGS   OF   ITALY.  367 

Yet  why  should  Christ's  belieTer  fear, 
While  gazing  on  yon  image  dear  ? — 
Image  adored,  maugr^  the  sneer 

Of  miscreant  blasphemer. 

Are  not  those  arms  for  me  outspread  ? 
■     What  mean  those  thorns  upon  thy  head  ? — 
And  shall  I,  wreathed  with  laurels,  tread 

Par  from  thy  paths,  Bedeemer  ? 

Such  was  tlie  deeply  religious  tone  of  this  eminent  man's 
mind,  and  such  the  genuine  lueeffna  of  Michel  Angelo.  An 
unfeigned  devotedness  to  the  doctrines  of  Christianity,  and 
a  proud  consciousness  of  the  dignity  which  the  avowal  of 
those  feelings  is  calculated  to  confer  in  the  view  of  every 
right-minded  person,  are  traits  of  character  which  we  never 
fail  to  meet  in  all  the  truly  great  men  of  that  period.  Dante, 
Leonardo  da  Vinci,  Tasso,  Eaffaelle,  Sannazar,  Bembo,  Bru- 
nelleschi,  and  a  host  of  imperishable  names,  bear  witness 
to  the  correctness  of  the  remark.  Nor  is  JPetrarca  defi- 
cient in  this  outward  manifestation  of  inward  piety.  The 
death  of  Laura  forms  a  marked  epoch  in  his  biography ; 
and  the  tendency  of  his  thoughts,  from  that  date  to  the 
hour  of  his  death,  appears  to  have  been  decidedly  religious  : 
And  the  soft  quiet  hamlet  where  he  dwelt 

Was  one  of  that  complexion  which  seemed  made 
Por  one  who  his  mortality  had  felt, 

And  sought  a  refage  from  his  hopes  decayed. 

Childe  Harold,  iv.  32. 

The  recollection  of  the  departed  only  gave  additional  inten- 
sity to  the  fervour  of  devotion :  and  those  exquisite  sonnets, 
into  which  he  has  breathed  the  pious  sentiments  of.his  soul, 
rank  among  the  most  finished  productions  of  his  muse ; — 
a  striking  exemplification  of  the  incontestable  truth,  that 
the  poet  who  would  suppress  all  reference  to  Christian  feel- 
ing has  voluntarily  broken  the  finest  chord  of  his  lyre. 
Laura,  spiritualised  into  an  angelic  essence,  stUl  visits  his 
nocturnal  visions,  to  point  the  way  to  that  heaven  of  which 
she  is  a  dweller,  and  to  excite  him  to  deeds  worthy  of  a 
blessed  immortality.     The  opening  stanza  of  one  of  these 

(the  Pantheon),  whither  all  Rome  flocked  to  honour  the  illustrious  dead. 
His  last  and  most  glorious  work,  "  the  Transfiguration,"  was  placed 
above  his  bier ;  while  Lgo's  pontifical  hand  strewed  fiowers  and  burnt 
incense  o'er  the  cold  remains  of  departed  genius, — Life  of  Raffaelle, 


368  FATHEE  PEOUt'S   EELIQITB8. 

songs,  whicli  form  the  second  part  of  the  collection,  (thus 
distinguished  from  those  written  during  the  lifetime  of  his 
beloved,)  will  stifS^ce  as  a  specimen  of  the  tone  that  per- 
vades them  aU.. 

Canzone  Sopo  la  0lorte  Hi  i9anna  ilauira. 

Quando  il  soave  mio  fido  conforto. 

Per  dar  riposo  alia  mia  vita  stanca, 

Ponsi  del  letto  in  su  la  eponda  manca 
Con  quel  suo  dolce  ragionare  accorto  ; 
Tutto  di  pieta  e  di  paura  smorto 
Dico  "  Onde  vien  tu  ora,  o  felloe  alma  ?" — 

Tin  ramosoel  di  palma 
E  un  di  lauro  trae  del  suo  bel  seno ; 

E  dice : — "  Dal  sereno 
Ciel  empireo,  e  di  quelle  sante  parti. 
Mi  mossi ;  e  vengo  sol  per  conaolarti,"  &o.  &c. 

33ttravca'S  ©Kam. 

(After  the  Death  of  Laura.) 

She  has  not  quite  forgotten  me  ;  her  shade 

My  pillow  still  doth  haunt, 
A  nightly  visitant, 
To  soothe  the  sorrows  that  herself  had  made : 

And  thus  that  spirit  blest, 
Shedding  sweet  influence  o'er  my  hour  of  res(^ 
Hath  h^ed  my  woes,  and  aU  my  lore  repaid. 

Last  night,  with  holy  calm, 

She  stood  before  my  view, 

And  from  her  bosom  drew 
A  wreath  of  laurel  and  a  branch  of  palm  ; 

And  said,  "  To  comfort  thee, 
O  child  of  Italy ! 
From  my  immortal  home, 
Petrarca,  I  am  come,"  &o.  &o. 

Towards  the  close  of  his  career,  when  the  vanity  of  all 
earthly  affection  became  stiU  more  palpable  to  his  under- 
standing, there  is  something  like  regret  expressed  for  having 
ever  indulged  in  that  most  pardonable  of  aU.  human  weak- 
nesses, the  hopeless  and  disinterested  admiration  of  what 
was  virtuous  and  lovely,  unmixed  with  the  grossness  of 
sensual  attachment,  and  unprofaned  by  its  vulgarities.  StiU, 
he  felt  that  there  was  in  the  pursuit  of  that  pleasing  illusion 


THE   SONGS   01'   ITALY.  369 

something  unworthy  of  his  profession  ;  and  he  has  reciorded 
his  act  of  contrition  in  the  following  beautiful  lines,  with 
which  I  close : — 

I'  TO  piangendo  i  miei  passaii  tempi, 

I  quai  posi  in  amar  cosa  mortale 

Senza  levarmi  a  volo,  avend'  io  1'  ale. 
Per  dar  forse  di  me  non  bassi  eaempi. 

Tu,  che  vedi  i  miei  mail  indegni  ed  empi, 

Be  del  cielo  iuTisibile,  immortale ; 

Soccorri  all'  alma  disviata  e  &ale, 
E  '1  suo  difetto  di  tua  grazia  adempi ; 

Si  che,  s'  io  vissi  in  guerra  ed  in  tempesta, 
Mori  in  pace  ed  in  porto  j  e  se  la  stanza 
Fu  vana,  almen  sia  la  partita  onesta. 

A  qnel  poco  di  Tiyer,  che  m'  avanza 
Ed  al  morir  degni  esser  tua  man  presta : 

Ttr  SAI  BEN,  CHE  'n  AIjTBUI  NON  HO  SPEEANZA. 

C]^£  IRepentantt  of  3Petvarta. 

Bright  days  of  sunny  youth,  irrerooable  years  ! 

Period  of  manhbod's  prime 
O'er  thee  I  shed  sad  but  unprofitable  tears — 

Lapse  of  retumless  time : 
Oh !  I  have  cast  away,  like  so  much  worthless  dross. 

Hours  of  most  precious  ore — 
Blest  hours  I  could  hare  coined  for  hearen,  your  loss 

For  ever  I'U  deplore ! 

Contrite  I  kneel,  O  Q-od  inscrutable,  to  thee, 

High  heaven's  immortal  Eing! 
Thou  gavest  me  a  soul  that  to  thy  bosom  free 

Might  soar  on  seraph  wiag  : 
My  mind  with  gifts  and  grace  thy  bounty  had  endowed 

To  cherish  Thee  alone — 
Those  gifts  I  have  abused,  this  heart  I  have  allowed 

Its  Maker  to  disown. 

But  from  his  wanderings  reclaimed,  with  fuU,  with  throbbing  heart 

Thy  truant  has  returned: 
Oh  !  be  the  idol  and  the  hour  that  led  him  to  depart 

From  Thee,  for  ever  mourned. 

If  I  have  dwelt  remote,  if  I  have  loved  the  tents  of  guUt— 

To  thy  fond  arms  restored. 
Here  let  me  die !     On  whom  can  my  eternal  hopes  be  built, 

Satb  upon  Thee,  O  Lobb  ! 

B  B 


370  FATHEE  PEOTTT'S   EEIIQUIB. 


THE  SONGS  OF  HOEACE. 


lEOADE   THE   PIEST. 

ANn  TUN  nOTAMfiN  lEPHN  XnPOTSI  nAFAI. 

EUEIPID.,  Medea. 

"  Quis  sub  AECTO 
Eex  gelidse  metuatur  orse 
'  Quid  TSridatem  terreat,  unice 
SecuruB  est  qui  roNTiBUS  inte&bis 
Gaudet." — Lib.  i.  ode  xxvi.* 

Deeming  it  wasteful  and  ridiculous 

To  watch  Don  Carlos  or  Czar  Nicholas — 

Sick  of  our  statesmen  idiotic — 

Sick  of  the  knaves  who  (patriotic) 

Serve  up  to  clowns,  in  want  ol praties, 

"  Eepale"  and  "  broken  Limerick  traties," 

With  whom  to  grudge  their  poor  a  crust  is, 

To  starving  teland  "  doing  jttstioe"— 

Sick  of  the  moonshine  called  "  municipal," 

Blarney  and  Rice,  Spain  and  Meudizibal, 

Shiel  and  shilelahs,  "  Dan"  and  "  Mam-ice," 

Peoxtt  turns  his  thoughts  to  Rome  and  HoBACE. — O.  Y. 

"  Chassons  loin  de  ohez  nous  tons  ces  rats  du  Pamasse, 
Jouissons,  &rivons,  vivons  avee  Horace." — Volt.,  l^itrea, 

Feom  the  ignoble  doings  of  modem  Whiggery,  sneaking  and 
dastardly  at  home,  and  not  very  dignified  abroad — from 
Melbourne,t  who  has  flung  such  unwonted  Mat  round  the 
premiership  of  Great  Britain  {addens  cornua  pauperi),  and 
Mulgrave,  who  has  made  vulgarity  and  ruffianism  the  sup- 
porters of  a  vice-regal  chair  {Regis  Rupilipus  atque  venenum),X 

*  Russia  was  already  in  for  war  thus  early. 

+  Trial,  Hon.  Q-eorge  Chappie  Norton  versus  Melbourne. 

J  Lord  Normanby  was,  at  this  date  (1836),  letting  loose  ail  the  jail- 
birds and  ribboumen  in  Ireland.  He  has  since  come  out  in  the  cha- 
racter of  PoloniuB  at  the  courts  of  Morenoe  and  Modena. 


THE    SOWaS    OF   HOEACE.  371 

it  is  allowable  to  turn  aside  for  a  transient  glimpse  at  tlie 
Augustan  age,  when  the  premier  was  Msecenas,  and  the  pro- 
consul, Agrippa.  The  poetic  sense,  nauseated  with  the  effu- 
sions of  Lord  Lansdowne's  family-piper,  finds  relief  in  com- 
muning with  Horace,  the  refined  and  gentlemanly  Laureate 
of  Eoman  Toryism.  In  his  abhorrence  of  the  "  profane 
Eadical  mob"  (lib.  iii.  ode  i.) — in  his  commendation  of  virtue, 
"  refulgent  with  uncontaminated  honour,  because  derived 
from  a  steady  refusal  to  take  up  or  lay  down  the  emblems  of 
authority  at  popular  dictation"  (Ub.  iii.  ode  ii.) — in  his  por- 
traiture of  the  Just  Man,  uadismayed  by  the  frenzied  ardour 
of  those  who  would  force  on  by  clamour  depraved  measures 
(Ub.  iii.  ode  iii.)  need  we  say  how  warmly  we  participate  ? 
That  the  wits  and  sages  who  shed  a  lustre  on  that  imperial 
court  should  have  merged  all  their  previous  theories  in  a 
rooted  horror  of  agitators  and  sansculottes,  was  a  natural 
result  of  the  intellectual  progress  made  since  the  unlettered 
epoch  of  Marius  and  the  G-racchi.  Li  the  bard  of  TivoU,  who 
had  fought  under  the  insurrectionary  banners  of  Brutus,  up 
to  the  day  when  "  the  chins  of  the  unshaven  demagogues 
were  brought  to  a  level  with  the  dust "  (lib.  ii.  ode  vii.)  Tory 
principles  obtained  a  distinguished  convert ;  nor  is  there  any 
trace  of  mere  subserviency  to  the  men  in  power,  or  any  evi- 
dence of  insincerity  in  the  record  of  his  political  opinions. 

The  Georgian  era  has,  ia  common  with  the  age  of  Augus- 
tus, exhibited  more  than  one  striking  example  of  salutary 
resipiscence  among  those  who  started  in  life  with  erroneous 
principles.  Two  eminent  instances  just  now  occur  to  us ; 
Southey  among  the  poets,  Burke  among  the  iLLustrious  in 
prose  ;  though,  perhaps,  the  divine  gift  of  inspiration,  ac- 
companied with  true  poetic  feeling,  was  more  largely  vouch- 
safed to  the  antagonist  of  the  French  Revolution  than  to  the 
author  of  Roderick,  the  last  of  the  Goths.  What  can  be  more 
apposite  to  the  train  of  thought  in  which  we  are  indulg- 
ing, and  to  the  actual  posture  of  afiairs,  than  the  follow- 
ing exquisitely  conceived  passage,  in  which  the  sage  of 
Beaconsfield  contrasts  the  respective  demeanour  and  re- 
sources of  the  two  parties  into  which  pubUc  opinion  is 
divided  ? 

"  When  I  assert  any  thing  concerning  the  people  of  Eng- 
land, I  speak  from  observation,  and  from  the  experience  I 

13  B  2 


372  FATHEE  phout's  eeliques. 

have  had  in  a  pretty  extensive  commumcation  with  the  in- 
habitants of  this  kiagdom,  begun  in  early  life,  and  continued 
for  near  forty  years.  I  pray  you,  form  not  your  opinion 
from  certain  publications.  The  vanity,  restlessness,  and 
petulance  of  those  vrho  hide  their  intrinsic  weakness  ia 
bustle,  and  uproar,  and  pufiing,  and  mutual  quotation  of 
each  other,  .make  you  imagine  that  the  nation's  contemptu- 
ous neglect  is  a  mark  of  acquiescence  in  their  opinions.  No 
such  thing,  I  assure  you !  Because  half-a-dozen  grasshop- 
pers under  a  fern  make  the  field  ring  with  their  importunate 
chink,  while  thousands  of  great  cattle,  reposing  under  the 
shadow  of  the  British  oak,  chew  the  cud  and  are  silent,  pray 
do  not  imagine  that  those  who  make  the  noise  are  the  only 
inhabitants  of  the  field." 

It  is  right,  however,  in  common  fairness  towards  Horace, 
to  remark,  that  while  fighting  in  his  juvenile  days  under  the 
banners  of  Brutus,  even  then  he  never  for  a  moment  con- 
templated Mob-ascendency  .in  Eome  as  the  ultimate  result 
of  his  patriotic  efforts.  Like  Cato  and  Tully,  in  the  part  he 
took  he  merely  espoused  the  cause  of  the  Senate  in  oppo- 
sition to  that  of  a  frensied  rabble,  rushing  on,  with  swinish 
desperation,  to  political  suicide  ;  for  in  that,  as  in  every  age, 
the  deluded  multitude,  in  his  view,  was  sure  to  become  the 
dupe  of  some  designing  and  knavish  demagogue,  unless 
rescued,  in  very  despite  of  itself,  by  such  interposition  as 
the  "  Senatobs  "  could  exercise  in  Eome ;  or,  we  may  add, 
the  "  Babons  "  in  England  :  both  the  hereditary  guardians 
of  liberty.  When  the  adhesion  of  the  conscript  fathers  had 
sanctioned  the  protectorate  of  Augustus,  the  transition  to' 
openly  Conservative  politics,  on  the  poet's  part,  was  as 
honourable  as  it  was  judicious.  The  contempt  he  felt, 
through  his  whole  career,  for  the  practice  of  propitiating  the 
sweet  voices  of  the  popiilace  by  a  surrender  of  principle,  is 
as  plainly  discoverable  throughout  the  whole  of  his  varied 
writings  as  his  antipathy  to  garlic,  or  his  abhorrence  of 
"  Canidia." 

His  little  volume  contains  the  distilled  quintessence  of 
'Eroman  Ufe,  when  at  its  very  acme  of  refinement.  It  is  the 
most  perfect  portraiture  (cabinet  size)  that  remains  of  the 
social  habits,  domestic  elegance,  and  cultivated  intercourse 
of  the  capital,  at  the  most  interesting  period  of  its  pros- 


THE    SONGS    OF   HOEACE.  373 

perity.  But  the  philosophy  it  inculcates,  and  the  worldly 
wisdom  it  unfolds,  is  applicable  to  all  times  and  all  countries. 
Hence,  we  cannot  sympathise  with  the  somewhat  childish 
(to  say  the  least  of  it)  distaste,  or  indisposition,  evinced  by 
the  immortal  pilgrim,  Harold  (canto  iv.  st.  Ixxv.),  for  those 
erer-enduxing  lyrics  that  formed  the  nourishment  of  our 
intellect,  "when  G-eorge  the  Third  was  king."  The  very 
affectation  of  alluding  to  the  "  drilled,  dull  lesson,  forced 
down  word  for  word,  in  his  repugnant  youth,"  proves  the 
alumnus  of  Harrow  on  the  HiU  to  have  relished  and  recol- 
lected the  almost  identical  lines  of  the  author  he  feigns  to 
disrememher — Carmina  Livi  memini  plagosum  mihi  parvo 
Orhilium  dictare  (Epist.  ii.  70.) ;  and  (though  Peel  may  have 
been  a  more  assiduous  scholar)  we  can  hardly  believe  the 
beauties  of  Horace  to  have  been  lost  on  Byron,  even  in  his 
earliest  hours  of  idleness.  It  is  a-propos  of  Mount  Soracte, 
on  which  he  stumbles  in  the  progress  of  his  peregrination, 
that  the  noble  poet  vents  his  "  fixed  inveteracy"  of  hatred 
against  a  book  which,  at  the  same  time,  he  extols  in  terms 
not  less  eloquent  than  true  : 

"  Then  farewell,  Hobaoe  !  whom  I  hated  so  ; 

Not  for  thy  faults,  hut  mine !     It  is  a  curse 
To  understand,  Tiotfeel,  thy  lyric  flow, 

To  comprehend,  but  never  love,  thy  verse. 

Although  no  deeper  moralist  rehearse 
Our  little  life,  nor  bard  prescribe  his  art. 

Nor  livelier  satirist  the  conscience  pierce. 
Awakening  without  wpunding  the  touched  heart. 
IFaeewblI;  !  upon  Soracte's  ridge  vfB  pakt  !" 

We  can  readily  imagine  the  comic  nature  of  such  a 
"  parting."  We  picture  in  our  mind's  eye  him  of  JN^ewstead 
Abbey  bidding  him  of  the  Sabine  farm 

"  Farewell ! — a  word  that  has  been,  and  shall  be ;'' 

while  we  fancy  we  can  hear  the  pithy  "  Bon  voyage,  milor" 
with  which  significant  formula  (in  Latin)  he  is  gently  dis- 
missed by  the  weeping  Maccus — dax^uoev  ysXas/Aa. 

Pkottt  was  not  addicted  to  this  aristocratic  propensity  for 
cutting  aU  school-boy  acquaintances.  In  him  was  strikingly 
exemplified  the  theory  which  attributes  uncommon  intensity 
and  durableness  to  first  attachments:  it  is  generally  ap- 


374  TATHEB  PEOri'S   EELIQTTES. 

plied  to  love ;  lie  carried  the  practice  into  the  liaisons  of 
literature.  The  odes  of  Horace  were  hip  earliest  mistresses 
in  poetry  ;  they  took  his  fancy  ia  youth,  their  fascinations 
haunted  his  memory  in  old  age— 

"I'ON  EETIENT  TOUJOTrES 
A    SES  PEBMIEEES  AMOTTES." 

Most  of  the  following  papers,  forming  a  series  of  Hora- 
tian  studies,  were  penned  ia  Italy,  often  on  the  very  spots 
that  gave  birth  to  the  effusions  of  the  witty  Eoman ;  but  it 
appears  to  have  afforded  the  Father  considerable  satisfaction 
to  be  able,  in  the  quiet  hermitage  of  his  hill,  to  redigest  and 
chewthe  cudof  whatevermighthavebeen  crude  and  unmatured 
inhis  juvenile  lucubrations.  He  seems  to  have  taken  an  almost 
equal  iaterest  in  the  writers,  the  glories,  and  the  monuments 
of  Pagan  as  of  Papal  Eome :  there  was  in  his  mental  vi- 
sion a  strange  but  not  unpleasant  confusion  of  both ;  the 
Vaticani  montis  imago  (Ub.  i.  20)  forming,  in  his  idea,  a  sort 
of  bifurcated  Parnassus — St.  Peter  on  the  one  peak,  and 
Jupiter  on  the  other.  Mr.  Poynder  has  written  a  tract  on 
this  supposed  "  alliance  between  Popery  and  Heathenism,"  which 
De.  Wiseman,  in  these  latter  days,  has  thought  worthy  of 
a  pamplilet  in  reply.  The  gravity  of  the  question  deters 
us  from  entering  on  it  here ;  but,  to  reconcile  the  matter, 
might  we  not  adopt  the  etymological  medius  terminus  of  Dean 
Swift,  and  maintain  that  Jove — Zsug  varri^,  or  Sospiter — was 
nothing,  after  aU,  but  the  Jew  Petee  ? 

"We  are  not  without  hopes  of  finding,  among  Prout's  mis- 
cellanies, an  elaborate  treatise  on  this  very  topic.  The  French 
possess  a  work  of  infinite  erudition,  called  L'Histoire  verita- 
ble des  Terns  Fabuleiuc,  in  which  the  Iliad  is  shewn  to  be  an 
arrant  plagiarism  from  the  three  last  chapters  of  the  Book 
of  Judges ;  the  Levite's  wife  being  the  prototype  of  Helen, 
and  the  tribe  of  Benjamin  standing  for  the  Trojans.  Wit, 
says  Edmund  Burke,  is  usually  displayed  by  finding  poiats 
of  contact  and  resemblance;  jtogmeitt,  or  discrimination, 
generally  manifests  itself  in  the  faculty  of  perceiving  the 
poiats  of  disagreement  and  disconnexion. 

But  it  is  high  time  to  resume  our  editorial  seat,  and  let 
the  Father  catch  the  eye  of  the  reader. 


THE    SON&S   OB   HOEACE.  375 

"  With  faire  discourse  the  eTening  so  they  passe, 
For  that  olde  man  of  pleasaunte  wordes  had  store, 

And  well  could  file  his  tongue  as  smoothe  as  glasse  j 
Ere  tolde  of  saintes  and  popes,  and  evermore 
He  strowed  an  Ate-Mabz  after  and  before." 

Faery  Queene,  canto  i.  stanza  35. 
Regent  Street,  June  2'7 th, 

OLIVEE  TOEKE. 

BEAMATIS  PEESON.*. 

I.  Peotjt.    II.  An  Elzevir.  12mo.    III.  A  Jug  of  Punch.  4to. 

Scene. — Watergrasshill. 

Here's  a  health  to  Hoeace  !  "  Vivi  tu !"  Songster  of 
TiTOLi,  who  alone  of  aU.  the  tuneful  dead,  alone  of  Grreek 
and  Eoman  wits,  may  be  said  to  lite.  If  to  be  quoted  and 
requoted,  until  every  superficial  inch  of  thy  toga  has  become 
(from  quotation)  threadbare,  constitute  perpetuity  of  poetical 
existence,  according  to  the  theory  of  Ennius  (volito  vivu^  per 
ora  virum,)  such  life  has  been  pre-eminently  vouchsafed  to 
thee.  In  the  circle  of  thy  comprehensive  philosophy,  few 
things  belonging  to  heaven  or  earth  were  undreamt  of;  nor 
did  it  escape  thy  instinctive  penetration  that  in  yonder  brief 
tome,  short,  plump,  and  tidy,  like  its  artificer,  thou  hadst 
erected  a  monument  more  durable  than  brass,  more  perma- 
nent than  an  Irish  "  EOrwD  towee,"  or  a  pteamid  of  King 
Cheops.  It  was  plain  to  thy  intuitive  ken,  that,  whatever 
mischance  might  befall  the  heavier  and  more  massive  pro- 
ductions of  ancient  wisdom,  thy  lyrics  were  destined  to  out- 
live them  all.  That  though  the  epics  of  VAEirs  might  be 
lost,  or  the  decades  of  Litt  desiderated,  remotest  posterity 
■would  possess  thee  (Kke  the  stout  of  Barclay  and  Perkins) 
"  entiee" — would  enjoy  thy  book,  undocked  of  its  due  pro- 
portions, uneurtaiLed  of  a  single  page — ^would  bask  in  the 
rays  of  thy  genius,  unshorn  of  a  single  beam.  As  often  as 
the  collected  works  of  other  classic  worthies  are  ushered 
into  the  world,  the  melancholy  appendage  on  the  title-page  of 

«'  Onania  quae  extant" 

is  sure  to  meet  our  eye,  reminding  us,  in  tne  very  announce- 
ment of  the  feast  of  iateUect,  that  there  is  an  amari  aliquid  ; 
viz.,  that  muchentertaining  matter  has  irretrievably  perished. 


376  TAXHEB  peout's  eeliques. 

The  toi-so  of  the  Belvidere  is,  perhaps,  as  far  as  it  goes,  supe- 
rior totheApollo;  but  the  latter  is  a  complete  statue:  aGrreen- 
wich  pensioner  with  a  wooden  leg  is  though  a  respectable 
only  a  truncated  copy  of  humanity.  Thy  MSS.  have  come 
down  to  us  unmutUated  by  the  pumice-stone  of  palimpsestic 
monk,  unsinged  by  the  torch  of  Calif  Omar,  ungnawed  by 
the  tooth  of  Time.  The  perfect  preservation  of  thy  writings 
is  only  equalled  by  the  universality  of  their  diffusion —  a 
point  especially  dwelt  on  in  that  joyously  geographic  rhapsody 
of  a  prophetic  soul  (lib.  ii.  ode  20),  whereia  thou  pourest  i 
forth  thy  full  anticipation  of  oecumenic  glory.  If  thou  canst 
hardly  be  said  still  to  haunt  the  "  shores  ot  the  Bosphorus," 
take  "  Oxtoed"  as  a  literal  substitute :  though  disappointed 
of  fame  among  the  "  remote  Geloni,"  thou  hast  an  equiva- 
lent in  the  million  schoolboys  of  South  America.  Should 
the  "learned  Iberian"  chance  to  neglect  thee  amid  tie 
disasters  of  his  country,  hanging  up  thy  forsaken  lyre  on  the 
willows  of  the  Gruadalquiver — should  they  "  who  drink  the 
Ehone"  divide  their  affections  between  (thy  brother  bard)  , 
B&anger  and  thee,  thou  mayest  still  count  among  "  the 
Dacians"  of  the  Danube  admirers  and  commentators.  Thou 
hast  unlooked-for  votaries  on  the  Hudson  and  the  St.  Law- 
rence ;  and  though  Burns  may  triumph  on  the  Tweed,  Tom 
Moore  can  never  prevent  thee  from  being  paramount  on  the 
Shannon,  nor  Tom  D'Urfey  evict  thee  from  supremacy  on  the 
Thames.  In  accordance  with  thy  fondest  aspiration,  thou 
hast  been  pointed  out  as  the  "  prime  performer  on  the  Ro- 
man lyre,"  by  successive  centuries  as  they  passed  away 
(diffito  prtstereuntium)  :  the  dry  skeleton  of  bygone  criticism 
hung  up  in  our  libraries,  so  designates  thee  with  its  bony 
index :  to  thee,  Peince  oi'  Lteic  Poets  !  is  still  directed 
in  these  latter  days,  albeit  vrith  occasional  aberrations  (for 
even  the  magnetic  needle  varies  under  certain  influences)  ^ 
the  ever-reverting  finger  of  Pame. 

Here,  then,  I  say,  is  a  heaith  to  Hoeace  !  Though  the 
last  cheerful  drop  in  my  vesper-bowl  to-night  be  well-nigh 
drained,  and  the  increasing  feebleness  of  age  reminds  me 
too  plainly  that  the  waters  are  ebbing  fast  in  my  Clepsydra 
of  me,  still  have  I  a  blessing  in  reserve— a  benison  to  bestow 
on  the  provider  of  such  intellectual  enjoyment  as  yon  small 
Tolume  hap  ever  afforded  me ;  uor  to  the  last  shall  I  dis- 


THE    SONGS   or    HOBACE.  377 

continue  holding  sweet  converse,  througli  its  medium,  with 
the  Geaces  and  the  Nine. 

Ou  itaMSaftiUi  rag  ■^upiTag 

Hdierav  gvZ,u'yiav. 

In  the  brief  hiographic  memoir  left  us  by  Suetonius,  we 
read  that  the  emperor  was  in  the  habit  of  comparing  the 
poet's  hook,  and  the  poet  himself,  to  a  ELAGOir-^CMm  circui- 
tus  voluminis  sit  oyxtadsgraros,  sicut  est  ventricuU  tui.  Various 
and  multiform  are  the  vitrified  vases  and  terracotta  jars  dug 
up  at  Pompeii,  and  elsewhere,  with  evidence  of  having  served 
as  depositories  for  Eoman  sack ;  but  the  peculiar  Horatian 
shape  alluded  to  by  Augustus  has  not  been  fixed  on  by  an- 
tiquaries. The  Florentine  academy  Delia  Crusca,  whose  opin- 
ion on  this  point  ought  to  obtain  universal  attention,  have 
considered  themselves  authorised,  from  the  passage  in  Sue- 
tonius, to  trace  (as  they  have  done,  in  their  valuable  vo- 
cabulary) the  modem  words, /accone,_/?asco  (whence  ovtrfiask) 
to  Q.  Herat.  Eiaocts.  The  origin  of  the  English  term 
bumper,  it  is  fair  to  add,  has  been,  with  equal  sagacity,  brought 
home  by  Joe  Miller  to  our  "  bon  phre,"  the  pope.  But 
commend  me  to  the  German  commentators  for  transcendental 
ingenuity  in  classical  criticism.  Need  I  more  than  instance 
the  judicious  Milcherlick's  hint,  that  the  birth  of  our  poet 
must  have  presented  a  clear  case  of  lusus  natura;  since,  in 
his  ode  Ad  Amphoram  (xxi.  Hb.  ui.),  we  have,  from  his  ovm 
lips,  the  portentous  fact  of  his  having  come  into  the  world 
"  in  company  with  a  bottle,"  under  the  consulship  of  Man- 
lius  ?  Shotdd  the  fact  of  his  having  had  a  twin-brother  of 
that  description  be  substantiated,  on  historical  and  obstetric 
principles,  we  shall  cease,  of  course,  to  wonder  at  the  simi- 
litude discovered  by  the  emperor.  "Byron  maintains,  though 
without  any  data  whatever  to  warrant  his  assertion,  that 
"  Happiness  was  born  a  twin"  (Juan,  canto  ii.  st.  172) ; 
the  case  was,  perhaps,  like  that  imagined  by  MUcherKck. 

My  own  theory  on  the  subject  is  not,  as  yet,  sufficiently 
matured  to  lay  it  before  the  learned  of  Europe  ;  but  from 
the  natural  juxtaposition  of  the  two  congenial  objects  now 
before  me,  and  the  more  than  chemical  affinity  with  which 


378  TATHEB  peottt's  eeliqtjes. 

I  find  the  contents  of  the  Elzevir  to  blend  in  harmonious 
mixture  with  those  of  the  jug,  I  should  feel  quite  safe  in 
predicating  (if  sprightliness,  vigour,  and  versatility  consti- 
tute sui&ciently  fraternal  features)  that  the  "  spirit  in  the 
leaves"  is  brother  to  the  "  bottle  imp." 

"Alterius  sio, 
Altera  poscit  opem  res  et  conjurat  amic^," 
Art.  Poet.  410. 

The  recondite  philosophy  of  the  common  expression, 
"  AnimA,  Spieits,"  has  not,  that  I  am  aware  of,  been  tho- 
roughly iuvestigated,  or  its  import  fully  developed,  by  mo- 
dern metaphysicians.  How  animal  matter  may  become  so 
impregnated,  or,  to  use  the  school  term,  "  compenetrated," 
by  a  spiritual  essence,  as  to  lose  its  substantive  nature  and 
become  a  mere  adjective,  or  modiiication  of  the  all-absorbing 
imsv/io,,  is  a  "rub"  fit  to  puzzle  Hamlet.  In  my  Lord 
Brougham's  Natural  Theology,  which  gives  the  solution  of 
every  known  question,  this  difficulty  is  unaccountably  ne- 
glected. There  is  not  a  single  word  about  animated  alcohol. 
An  ingenious  doubt  was  expressed  by  some  great  thinker 
— Jack  Eeeve,  or  Doctor  Porson — after  a  protracted  sitting, 
whether,  legally,  the  landlord  could  remove  him  ofi'  the  pre- 
mises without  a  "  permit."  That  was  genuine  metaphysics, 
far  above  all  Kant's  rubbish.  How  are  we,  in  fact,  to  draw 
the  distinction  ?  Is  there  to  be  one  law  for  a  living  vessel, 
and  another  for  an  inert  jar  ?  May  not  the  ingredients  that 
go  to  fill  them  be  the  same  ?  the  quantity  identical  in  both 
recipients  ?  Why,  then,  should  not  the  Excise  anxiously 
track  the  footsteps  of  so  many  walking  gallons  of  XXX, 
with  the  same  maternal  solicitude  she  manifests  in  watching 
the  progress  and  removal  of  spirit  in  earthenwaj-e  ?  This 
common-sense  view  of  the  matter  was  long  ago  taken  up  by 
Don  Quixote,  when,  acting  on  the  suggestion  of  calm  logic, 
he  gave  battle  to  certain  goat-skins,  distended  with  the  re- 
cent vintage  of  Valdepenas.  Cervantes  may  sneer,  but  the 
onslaught  does  not  appear  to  me  irrational.  Was  the  knight 
to  wait  till  the  same  juice  should  offer  itself  under  the  form 
and  colour  of  blood,  to  be  shed  from  the  bodies  of  bloated 
buffoons  in  buckram  ?     Clearly  not ! 

But  to  return.    If  by  animai/  spieits  be  meant  that 


THE    SONGS    or   HOEACE.  379 

■state  of  buoyancy  and  elevation  in  wMcli  the  opaque  cor- 
poreal essence  is  lost  in  the  frolicsome  play  of  the  fancy, 
and  evaporates  in  ethereal  sallies,  a  collateral  and  parallel 
process  takes  place  when  the/imaginative  and  rarified  facul- 
ties of  mind  are,  as  it  were,  condensed  so  as  to  give  a  preci- 
pitate, and  form  a  distinct  portion  of  visible  and  tangible 
matter.  Ton  Elzevir  is  a  case  in  point.  In  the  small  com- 
pass of  a  duodecimo  we  hold  and  manipulate  the  concen- 
trated feelings  and  follies,  the  "  quips  and  cranks,"  the  wit 
and  wisdom,  of  a  period  never  equalled  in  the  history  of 
mankind :  the  current  conversational  tones  and  topics  are 
made  familiar  to  us,  though  the  interlocutors  have  long  since 
mouldered  in  the  grave.  The  true  palebnian  wine  ripens 
no  more  on  the  accustomed  slope ;  the  roBMiAifi  coujis 
are  now  barren  and  unprofitable ;  but,  owing  to  the  above- 
mentioned  process,  we  can  still  relish  their  bouquet  in  the 
odes  of  Horace  :  we  can  find  the  genuine  smack  of  the  Csecu- 
ban  grape  in  the  eifusions  it  inspired. 

I  recollect  Tom  Moore  once  talking  to  me,  after  dinner, 
of  Campbell's  Exile  of  Erin,  and  remarking,  in  his  ordinary 
concetto  style,  that  the  sorrows  of  Ireland  were  in  that  elegy 
CEXSTALLiSBD  and  made  immortal.  Tommy  was  right ;  and 
he  may  be  proud  of  having  done  something  in  that  way  him- 
self: for  when  the  fashion  of  drinking  "gooseberry  cham- 
pagne" shall  have  passed  away,  future  ages  will  be  able  to 
form  a  notion  of  that  once  celebrated  beverage  from  the 
perusal  of  Ms  poetry.    There  it  is,  crystallised  for  posterity. 

Horace  presents  us,  in  his  person,  vnth  an  accomplished 
specimen  of  the  bon  vivant ;  such  as  that  agreeable  variety 
of  the  human  species  was  understood  by  antiquity.  Cheer- 
fulness and  wit,  conjointly  with  worldly  wisdom,  generally 
insure  a  long,  joHy,  and  prosperous  career  to  their  possessor. 

I  just  now  adverted  to  the  good  luck  which  has  secured 
his  writings  against  accident  :  his  personal  preservation 
through  what  Mathews  would  term  the  "  wicissitudes  and 
waccinations"  of  Ufe,  appears  to  have  been,  from  his  own 
account,  fully  as  miraculous.  A  somewhat  profane  [French 
proverb  asserts,  <iu\l  y  a  une  Providence'  pour  les  ivrognes ; 
but  whatever  celestial  surveillance  watches  over  the  zigzag 
progress  of  a  drunkard — ^whatever  privilege  may  be  pleaded 
by  the  plenipotentiary  of  Bacchus,  poetry  would  seem,  in 


380  PATHEE  PEOTJT'S   EEI/IQUES. 

his  ease,  to  have  had  peculiar  prerogatives.  Sleeping  in.  bis 
childhood  on  some  mountain-top  of  Apulia,  pigeons  covered 
him  with  leaves,  that  no  "bears"  or  "snakes"  might  get  at 
him  (lib.  iii.  ode  iv.)  ;  a  circumstance  of  some  importance  to 
infant  genius,  vfhich,  alas !  cannot  always  escape  the  "hug" 
of  the  one  or  the  "  stiag"  of  the  other.  Again,  at  the  battle 
of  Philippi,  he  tells  us  how  he  had  well  nigh  perished,  had 
not  Mbbcitet  snatched  him  up  from  the  very  thick  of  the 
mel^e,  fully  aware  of  his  value,  and  unwilling  to  let  him  run 
the  risk  to  which  vulgar  chair  a  canon  is  exposed.  Subse- 
quently, while  walking  over  his  grounds  at  the  Sabine  farm, 
the  falling  trunk  of  an  old  tree  was  within  an  ace  of  knock- 
ing out  Ins  brains,  had  not  PArir,  whom  he  describes  as  the 
guardian-angel  of  mercurial  men — mereurialium  custos  viro- 
rum — ^interposed  at  the  critical  moment.  To  Mercury  he 
has  dedicated  many  a  graceful  hymn  :  more  than  one  modern 
poet  might  safely  acknowledge,  certain  obligations  to  the 
same  quarter.  But  all  are  not  so  communicative  as  Horace 
of  their  personal  adventures. 

What  he  states  in  his  bantering  epistle  to  Julius  Florius 
cannot  be  true ;  viz.,  that  poverty  made  a  poet  of  him : 

"  Pauperiai  impulit  audar 
Ut  versus  facerem." — Ep.  ii.  2,  51. 

On  the  contrary,  far  from  offering  any  symptoms  of  jejune 
inspiration  or  garret  origin,  his  efiusions  bear  testimony  to 
the  pleasant  mood  of  miod  in  which  they  were  poured  forth, 
and  are  redolent  of  the  joyousness  of  happy  and  convivial 
hours.  BoUeau,  a  capital  judge,  maintains,  that  the  jovial 
exhilaration  pervading  aU  his  poetry  betrays  the  vinous 
influence  under  which  he  wrote — 

"  Horace  a  bu  son  saoul  quand  il  voit  les  Menades :" 

an  observation  previously  made  by  a  rival  satirist  of  Eome— 

"  Satur  est  cum  dioit  Horatius  ohe  !" 

Hints  of  this  kind  are  sometimes  hazarded  in  reference  to 
very  grave  writers,  but,  in  the  present  instance,  wiU  be  more 
readily  believed  than  the  assertion  made  by  Plutarch,  in  his 
^u/ivosiov,  that  the  gloomy  ^schylus  "  was  habitually  drunk 
when  he  wrote  bis  tragedies." 


THE    SON&S    01?   HOEACE.  381 

In  adopting  the  poetical  profession  Horace  but  followed  the 
bent  of  his  natiire :  thus,  ltbics  were  the  spontaneous  pro- 
duce of  his  mind,  as  fables  were  of  a  kindred  soul,  the  naif 
Lafontaine.  ".  Voilh  un  eiqtjiee,"  said  the  latter  one  day 
to  Madame  de  la  Sablifere,  in  the  gardens  of  Versailles  ;  "  et 
moi,je  suis  un  tabliee."  Let  us  take  the  official  manifesto 
with  which  Horace  opens  the  volume  of  his  odes,  and  we 
shall  be  at  once  put  in  possession  of  his  views  of  human  life, 
through  all  its  varied  vanities ;  of  which  poetry  is,  after  all, 
but  one,  and  not  the  most  ridiculous. 

Ode   I. — TO   MBC^NAS. 
"  Meosenas !  atavis  edite  regibus,"  &c. 

Mt  eeiend  and  pateon,  in  whose  veins  runneth  right  royal  blood, 

Grive  but  to  some  the  hippodbome,  the  car,  the  prancing  stud, 

Clouds  of  Olympic  dust — then  mark  what  ecstasy  of  soul 

Their  bosom  feels,  as  the  rapt  wheels  glowing  have  grazed  the  goal. 

Talk  not  to  them  of  diadem  or  sceptre,  save  the  whip — 

A  branch  of  palm  can  raise  them  to  the  gods'  companionship. 

And  there  be  some,  my  friend,  for  whom  the  crowd's  applause  is  food. 
Who  pine  without  the  hoUow  shout  of  Eome's  mad  multitude ; 
Others,  whose  giant  greediness  whole  provinces  would  drain — 
Their  sole  pursuit  to  gorge  and  glut  huge  granaries  with  grain. 

Yon  homely  hind,  calmly  resigned  his  narrow  farm  to  plod. 
Seek  not  with  Asia's  wealth  to  wean  from  his  paternal  sod : 
Ye  can't  prevail !  no  varnished  tale  that  simple  swaiu  will  urge, 
In  galley  buHt  of  Ctpbtjs  oak,  to  plough  th'  Esean  surge. 

Your  merohant-niariner,  who  sighs  for  fields  and  quiet  home. 
While  o'er  the  main  the  hurricane  howls  round  his  path  of  foam. 
Win  make,  I  trow,  full  many  a  vow,  the  deep  for  aye  t'  eschew. 
He  lands— what  then  ?     Pelf  prompts  again— his  ship  's  afloat  anew ! 

Soft  Leisure  hath  its  votaries,  whose  blias  it  is  to  bask 
In  simimer's  ray  the  live-long  day,  quaffing  a  mellow  flask 
Under  the  green-wood  tree,  or  where,  but  newly  born  as  yet, 
Keligion  guards  the  cradle  of  the  infant  rivulet. 

Some  love  the  camp,  the  horseman's  tramp,  the  clarion's  voice  ;  aghast 
Pale  mothers  hear  the  trumpeter,  and  loathe  the  murderous  blast. 

Lo !  under  wint'ry  skies  his  game  the  Hunter  stiU  pursues  ; 
And,  while  his  bonny  bride  with  tears  her  lonely  bed  bedews, 


382  TATHEE  PEOTIT'S   EEMQUES. 

He  for  Ms  antler'd  foe  looks  out,  or  tracts  the  forest  whence 
Sroke  the  wild  boar,  whose  daring  tusk  levelled  the  fragile  fence. 

Thee  the  pursuits  of  learning  claim — a  claim  the  gods  allow  j 
Thine  is  the  ivy  coronal  that  decks  the  scholar's  brow : 

Me  in  the  woods'  deep  solitudes  the  Nymphs  a  chent  count, 
The  dancing  Faun  on  the  green  lawn,  the  Naiad  of  the  fount. 
For  me  her  lute  (sweet  attribute !)  let  Polthtmnia  sweep ; 
For  me,  oh !  let  the  flageolet  breathe  from  Butebpe's  lip ; 
Give  but  to  me  of  poesy  the  lyric  wreath,  and  then 
Th'  immortal  halls  of  bliss  won't  hold  a  prouder  denizen. 

His  political  creed  is  embodied  in.  the  succeeding  ode  ;  and 
never  did  patriotism,  combiaed  (as  it  not  always  is)  with, 
sound  sense,  find  nobler  utterance  than  in  the  poet's  address 
to  the  head  of  the  government.  The  delicate  ingenuity  em- 
ployed in  working  out  his  ultimate  conclusion,  the  appsr 
rently  natural  progression  from  so  simple  a  topic  as  the 
"  state  of  the  weather,"  even  coupled  as  it  may  have  been 
with  an  inundation  of  the  Tiber,  to  that  magnificent  dinoue- 
ment — the  apotheosis  of  the  emperor — has  ever"  been  de- 
servedly admired. 

Ode  II. 

"  Jam  satis  terris  nivis  atque  dirse  Qrandinis,"  &c. 

Since  JovB  decreed  in  storms  to  And,  by  the  deluge  dispossest 

vent       *'  Of  glade  and  grove 

The  winter  of  his  discontent,  Deers  down  the  tide,  with  antler'd 
Thundering  o'er  Rome  impenitent  crest. 

With  red  right  hand,  Affrighted  drove. 

The  flood-gates  of  the  firmament, 

Have  drenched  the  land !  t^-^  gaw  the  yellow  Tibee,  sped 

m         1,  i.1.     ■    J  j-i.      ■  J    J  Back  to  his  Tuscan  fountain-head, 

Tteorhath  seized  the  mmdsofmen,  Q'erwhelm  the  sacred  and  the  dead 
Who  deemed  the  days  had  come  j^  ^^^  ^^^  ^^^^ 

agam ^^^^^  Vesta's  pile  in  ruins  sijread. 

When  Peoteus  led,  up  mount  and  ^^  ^^^,^  ^^^^_  V 

glen. 

And  verdant  lawn,  t.         .         ,    ,  , 

Of  teeming  ocean's  darksome  den  Dreaming  of  days  that  once  had 

The  monstrous  spawn.  _.     oeen, 

He  deemed  that  wild  disastrous 
<7hen  Pttbbha  saw  the  ringdove's  scene 

nest  Might  soothe   his    luA,    injured 
Harbour  a  strange  unbidden  guest,  queen  I 


THE    SONGS    or   HOEACE. 


383 


And  comfort  give  her, 
Keciless  though  JOTE  should  inter- 
vene, 
Uxorious  river ! 

Our  sons  will  ask,  why  men  of  Rome 
Drew  against  kindred,  friends,  and 

home, 
Swords  that  a  Persian  hecatomb 

Might  best  imbue — 
Sons,  by  their  fathers'  feuds  become 
Feeble  and  few ! 

Whom  can  our  country  call  in  aid? 
Where  must  the  patriot's  vow  be 

paid? 
With  orisons  shall  vestal  maid 

Fatigue  the  skies  ? 
Or  will  not  Vesta's  frown  upbraid 

Her  votaries  ? 

Augur  Apolio  !  shall  we  kneel 
To  THEE,  and  for  our  commonweal 
With  humbled   consciousness  ap- 
peal? 

Oh,  quell  the  storm ! 
Come,  though  a  silver  vapour  veil 

Thy  radiant  form  I 

Will  Venus  from  Mount  Eetx 

stoop, 
And  to  our  succour  hie,  with  troop 
Of  laughing  &EACES,  and  a  group 
Of  Cupids  round  her  ?  * 


Or  comest  thott  with  wild  war- 
whoop, 

Dread  Maes!  ourPOUOTJEB? 

Whose  voice   so  long  bade  peace 

avaunt  j 
Wliose  war-dogs  stfll  for  slaughter 

pant; 
The  tented  field  thy  chosen  haunt, 

Thy  child  the  Eoman, 

Kerce  legioner,  whose  visage  gaunt 

Scowls  on  the  foeman. 

Or  hath  young  Hermes,  Maia's 

son. 
The  graceful  guise  and  form  put  on 
Of  thee,  ATiatfSTiJS  ?  and  begun 

(Celestial  stranger !) 
To  wear  the  name  which  THOtr  hast 

won — 

"  CiESAE'S  AtENGEB  ?" 

Blest  be  the  days  of  thy  sojourn, 
Distant  the  hour  when  BoME  shall 

mourn 
The  fatal  sight  of  thy  return 

To  Heaven  again. 
Forced  by  a  guilty  age  to  spurn 
The  haunts  of  men. 

Eather  remain,  beloved,  adored. 
Since  Eome,  rehant  on  thy  sword, 
To  thee  of  Julius  hath  restored 

The  rich  reversion ; 
Baffle  Assybia'S  hovering  horde. 

And  smite  the  Pebsian  ! 


It  was  fitting  that  early  in  the  series  of  his  lyrics  there 
should  appear  a  record  of  his  warm  intimacy  with  the 
only  Eoman  poet  of  them  all,  whose  genius  could  justly 
claim  equal  rank  with  his.  It  is  honourable  to  the  author 
of  the  Mneid  that  he  feared  not,  in  the  first  instance,  to  in- 
troduce at  the  court  of  Augustus,  where  his  own  reputation 
was  already  established,  one  who  alone  of  all  his  contempo- 
raries could  eventually  dispute  the  laureateship,  and  divide 
the  applause  of  the  imperial  circle,  with  himaeK.  Yirgil, 
however,  though  he  has  careftdly  embalmed  in  his  pastorals 
the  names  of  Gallus,  Asiniiis  PoUio,  Varius,  and  Cinna ;  nay, 


384  FATHEE  PEOri'S  EELIQUES. 

though  he  has  wrapt  up  in  the  amher  of  his  verse  such  grubs 
as  Bavius  and  Msevius,  has  never  once  alluded  to  Horace — 
at  least,  in  that  portion  of  his  poems  which  has  come  down 
to  us — while  the  lyrist  commemorates  his  gifted  friend  in 
more  than  a  dozen  instances.  I  should  feel  loath  to  attri- 
bute this  apparently  studied  omission  to  any  discreditable 
jealousy  on  the  part  of  the  Mantuan ;  but  it  would  have 
been  better  had  he  acted  otherwise.  Concerning  the  general 
tenor  of  the  following  outburst  on  the  shores  of  the  Adriatic, 
while  Virgil's  galley  sunk  below  the  horizon,  it  vrill  be  seen, 
that  his  passionate  attachment  leads  him  into  an  invective 
against  the  shipping  interest,  which  I  do  not  seek  to  justify. 

Ode   III. — TO   THE   SHIP  BEABINa  TIE&IL  TO    &EBBCE. 
"  Sio  te  diva  potens,"  &o. 

May  Love's  own  planet  guide  thee  o'er  the  wave  ! 
Brightly  aloft 
Helen's  star-brother's  twintling, 
And  .ffilOLlTS  chain  all  his  children,  save 
A  west-wind  soft 
Thy  liquid  pathway  wrinkling. 
Galley !  to  whom  we  trust,  on  thy  parole, 
0>ir  ViE&lL, — mark 
Thou  bear  him  in  thy  bosom 
Safe  to  the  land  of  Geeeoe  ;  for  half  my  soul, 
O  gallant  bark  ! 
Were  lost  if  I  should  lose  him. 

A  breast  of  bronzd  fuU  sure,  and  ribs  of  oak. 
Where  his  who  first 
Defied  the  tempest-demon : 
Dared  in  a  fragile  skiff  the  blast  provoke, 
^  And  boldly  burst 

Forth  on  tlje  deep  a  Seaman ! 
Whom  no  conflicting  hurricanes  could  daunt, 
Nor  BoBEAS  chiU, 
Nor  weeping  Htabs  sadden. 
E'en  on  yon  gulf,  whose  lord,  the  loud  Levant, 
Can  calm  at  wiU, 
Or  to  wild  frenzy  madden. 

What  dismal  form  must  Death  put  on  for  him 
Whose  cold  eye  mocks 
The  dark  deep's  huge  indwellers  1 
Who  calm  athwart  the  billows  sees  the  grim 
Ceeacniaii  rocks. 
Of  wail  and  woe  tale-tellers ! — 


THE   SONGS   or   HOEACE.  385 

Though  Providence  poured  out  its  ocesm-flood, 
Whose  broad  expanse 
Might  land  from  land  dissever, 
Careering  o'er  the  waters,  Man  withstood 
Jove's  ordinance 
With  impious  endeavour. 

The  human  breast,  with  bold  aspirings  fraught, 
Throbs  thus  unawed. 
Untamed,  and  unquiescent, 
Fire  from  the  skies  a  son  of  Japhet  brought. 
And,  fatal  fraud ! 
Made  earth  a  guilty  present. 
Scarce  was  the  spark  snatch'dfrom  the  bright  abode, 
When  round  us  straight 
A  ghastly  phalanf  thickened, 
Fever  and  Palsy  i  and  grim  Death,  who  strode 
With  tardy  gait 
Far  off, — ^his  coming  quickened ! 

Wafted  on  daring  art's  fictitious  plume 
The  Cretan  rose, 
And  waved  his  wizard  pinions  ; 
Downwards  Alcides  pierced  the  realms  of  gloom. 
Where  darkly  flows 
Styx,  through  the  dead's  dominions. 
Naught  is  beyond  our  reach,  beyond  our  scope. 
And  heaven's  high  laws 
Still  fail  to  keep  us  under ; 
How  can  our  unreposing  malice  hope 
Respite  or  pause 
Prom  Jove's  avenging  thunder  ? 

Th?  tone  of  tender  melanclioly  whicli  pervades  all  his 
dreams  of  earthly  happiness— the  constant  allusions  to  Death, 
which  startle  us  in  his  gayest  and  apparently  most  careless 
strains,  ie  a  very  distinguishing  feature  of  the  poet's  mind. 
There  is  something  here  beyond  what  appears  on  the  sur- 
face. The  skull  so  ostentatiously  displayed  at  the  banquets 
of  Egypt  had  its  mystery. 

Ode  IV. 

"  Solvitur  acris  hyems." 

Now  Winter  melts  beneath  Solvitur  acris  hiema 

Spring's  genial  breath,  Gtxata  vice 

And  Zephyr  Teris  et  Favoni ; 

C   0 


386 


FATHER  PEOTIT'S   EEIIQUES. 


Back  to  the  water  yields 
The  stranded  bark — back  to  the  fields 
The  stabled  heifer — 
And  the  gay  rural  scene 
The  shepherd's  foot  can  wean, 
Forth  from  his  homely  hearth,  to  tread 
%e  meadows  green. 

ITow  Venus  loves  to  group 
Her  merry  troop 
Of  maidens, 
Who,  while  the  moon  peeps  out, 
Dance  with  the  Graces  round  about 
Their  queen  in  cadence ; 
Wliile  far,  'mid  fire  and  noise, 
Vulcan  his  ^forge  employs. 
Where  Cyclops  grim  aloft  their  ponderous 
I  poise. 


Now  maids,  with  myrtle-bough, 
Grarland  their  brow — 
Each  forehead 
Shining  with  flow'rets  deek'd ; 
While  the  glad  earth,  by  frost  unoheek'd. 
Buds  out  all  florid ; — 
Kow  let  the  knife  devote, 
In  some  still  grove  remote, 
A  victim-lamb   to   Faun ;    or,  should   he 
list,  a  goat. 

Death,  with  impartial  foot, 
Knocks  at  the  hut ; 
The  lowly 
As  the  most  princely  gate. 
0  favoured  friend !  on  life's  brief  data 
To  count  were  folly ; 
Soon  shall,  in  vapours  dark. 
Quenched  be  thy  vital  spark, 
And  thou,  a  silent  ghost,  for  Pluto's  land 
embark  ? 

Where  at  no  gay  repast, 
By  dice's  oast 
King  chosen. 
Wine-laws  shalt  thou  enforce. 
But  weep  o'er  joy  and  love's  warm  source 
Por  ever  frozen ; 
And  tender  Lydia  lost. 
Of  all  the  town  the  toast. 
Who  then,  when  thou  art  gone,  will  fire 
all  bosoms  most ! 


Trahuntque  siccas 
Machinse  carinas  ; 

Ac  necque  jam  stabuiifl 
G-audet  peeus, 
Aut  arator  igni ; 

Nee  prata  canis 
Albicant  pruinis. 

Jam  Cytherea  choros 
Ducit  Venus, 

Imminento  Luna ; 
Junctseque  Nymphia 

Gratiae  decentes 
Altemo  terram 

Quatiunt  pede, 

Dum  graves  Oyclopum 
Vulcanus  ardens 

Urit  officinas. 

Nunc  decet  aut  viridi 
Nitidum  caput 

Impedire  myrto, 
Aut  flore,  terrse 

Quem  ferunt  soluta. 
Nunc  et  in  umbrosis 
Pauno  decet 

Immolare  lucis, 
Sen  poscat,  agnS, 

iSive  maht,  hffido. 

Pallida  mors  aequo 
Pulsat  pede 

Pauperum  tabemas, 
Kegumque  turres. 

O  beate  Sesti, 
Vitte  summa  brevis 
Spem  nos  vetat 

Inchoare  longam. 
Jam  te  premet  nox, 

Pabulseque  Manes. 

Et  domus  exilis 
Plutonia : 

Quo  simul  mearig, 
Nee  regna  vini 

Sortiere  talis ; 
Nee  teneram  Lydiam 
Mirabere, 

Qu&  calet  juventus 
Nunc  omnis,  et  tunc 

Magis  iucalebit. 


THE    SONGS    OF   HOEACE.  387 

In  tKe  following  lines  to  Pyrrlia  we  have  set  before  us  a 
Boman  lady's  boudoir,  sketched  d  la  Watteau.  Female 
fickleness  was,  among  the  Greeks,  a  subject  deemed  inex- 
haustible. Horace  has  contrived  to  say  much  thereanent 
throughout  his  volume ;  but  the  matter  seems  to  be  as  fresh 
as  ever  among  the  modems. — It  has,  no  doubt,  given  great 
edification  to  Mr.  Poynder  to  observe  that  the  pagan  practice 
alluded  to,  towards  the  closing  verses,  of  hanging  up  what  is 
called  an  "  ex  voto"  in  the  temples,  still  prevails  along  the 
shores  of  the  Mediterranean.  Por  that  matter,  any  Cock- 
ney, by  proceeding  only  as  far  as  Boulogne  sur  Mer,  may 
find  evidence  of  this  classic  heathenism  in  full  vogue  among 
the  Gallic  fishermen. 

Ode  V. — ptbbha's  incgnstaitct. 

"  Quia  mulU  gracilis  te  puer  in  ros3." 

Pyrrha,  /who  now,  mayhap,  Quis  mult^  graciUs 

Pours  on  thy  perfumed  lap,  Te  puer  in  ros4 

Withrosywreath,fairyouth,hiafondaddresses!      Perfusus  liquidia 
Within  thy  charming  grot,  TTrget  odoribus 

For  whom,  in  gay  love-knot,  Grrato,  Pyrrha,  sub  antro? 

Playfully  dost  thou  bind  thy  yeUow  tresses  ?    CuiflaTamreKgas  comam. 

So  simple  in  thy  neatneaa  !  Simplex  munditiis  ? 

Alas !  that  so  much  sweetness  Heu !  quoties  fidem 

Should  prelude  prove  to  disiUueion  painful !  Mutatoaque  Deos 

He  shall  bewail  too  late  Plebit,  et  asp^a 

His  sadly  altered  fate,  Nigria  sequora  ventia 

Chilled  by  thy  mien,  repellent  and  disdainful,  Emirabitur  insolens. 

Who  now,  to  fondness  prone,  Qui  nunc  te  fruitur 

Deeming  thee  all  his  own,  Credulus  aure^  j 

Bevels  in  golden  dreams  of  favours  boundless ;     Qui  semper  vacuam. 
So  bright  thy  beauty  glows,  Semper  amabUem 

StiU  fascinating  those  Sperat,  nesoius  aurse 

Who've  yet  to  learn  all  trust  in  thee  is  ground-  Fallaois  !  Miaeri,  quibus. 
leas. 

I  the  false  light  forswear,  Intentata  nites ! 

A  shipwreok'd  martuer.  Me  tabula  aacer 

Who  hangs  the  painted  story  of  his  suffering      Votiva  paries 

Aloft  o'er  Neptune's  shrine ;  Indicat  uvida 

There  shall  I  hang  up  mine,  Suspendisse  potenti 

And  of  my  dripping  robes  the  votive  ofEering !  Vestimenta  maris  Deo. 

The  naval  rencontres  off  Actium,  Lepanto,  and  Trafalgar, 

0  c  2 


388  FATHBB  PEOri'S   EBIIQTJES. 

offer  in  JBuropean  history  three  gigantic  "  water-marks,"  such 
as  no  three  battle-plains  ashore  can  readily  furnish  :  but  the 
very  magnitude  of  each  maritime  event  has  probably  de- 
terred shrewd  poets  from  grappling  with  what  they  despaired 
to  board  successfully.     Our  Dibdm's  dithyrambic, 

" '  Twas  in  Trafalgar  hay 
We  saw  the  Frenchman  lay"  Sfc, 

as  well  as  the  Venetian  barcarola, 

"  Cantiam  iutti  allegramente,''  Sfc.,* 

were,  no  doubt,  good  enough  for  the  watermen  of  the 
Thames,  and  the  gondoliers  of  the  Gidf.  But  when  the 
Itoman  admiral  begged  from  Horace  an  ode,  emblazoning  . 
the  defeat  of  the  combined  fleets  of  Antony  and  Cleopatra, 
it  required  much  tact  and  ability  to  eschew  the  perilous 
attempt.  The  following  effort  shows  how  he  got  out  of 
the  scrape.  The  only  parallel  instance  of  clever  avoidance 
we  remember,  occurred  when  the  great  Conde  offered  a 
thousand  ducats  for  the  best  poem  on  his  campaign  of 
Eocroi.  A  G-ascon  carried  the  prize  by  this  audacious 
outburst : 

"  Pour  cflSbrer  tant  de  hauta  faits, 
Tant  de  combats,  et  taut  de  gloire^ 
Mille  ecus !     Parbleu !     MiLLE  E0U3  ? 
Ce  n'est  qu'un  sotr  par  victoire." 

Ode  VI. 

"  Scriberis  Vario,"  &c. 

Agrippa !  seek  a  loftier  bard ;  nor  ask 

Horace  to  twine  in  songs 
The  double  wreath,  due  to  a  victor's  casque 
From  land  and  ocean :  such  Homeric  task 

To  Variua  belongs. 

Our  lowly  lyre  no  fitting  music  hath. 

And  in  despair  dismisses 
The  epic  splendours  of  "  Achilles'  wrath," 
Or  the  "  dread  line  of  Pejops,"  or  the  "  path 

Of  billow-borne  Ulysses." 

•  See  "  Songs  of  Italy,"  apud  noa. — O.  Y, 


THE    SONGS   01'   HOEACE.  389 

The  record  of  tlie  deeds  at  Actium  wrought 

So  far  transcends  our  talent — 
Vain  were  the  wish !  wild  the  presumptuous  thought ! 
To  sing  how  Csesar,  how  Agrippa,  fought— 

Both  foremost  'mid  the  gallant ! 

The  God  of  War  in  adamantine  mail ; 

Merion,  gaunt  and  grim  ; 
Pallas  in  aid ;  while  Troy's  battalions  quail, 
Soared  by  the  lance  of  Diomed  .  .  .  must  fail 

To  figure  in  our  hymn. 

Ours  is  the  banquet-song's  light-hearted  strain, 

Eoses  our  only  laurel, 
The  progress  of  a  love-suit  our  campaign. 
Our  only  scars  the  gashes  that  remain 
^  When  romping  lovers  quarrel. 

Deprecating  the  mania  for  foreign  residence,  which  hur- 
ried off  then  (as  it  does  now)  estimable  citizens  from  a  far 
more  reputable  sojourn  in  their  natiye  country-villas,  the 
poet  exhorts  PiAJsroTTs  to  give  up  his  project  of  retiring  into 
Greece  (from  the  displeasure  of  Augustus),  to  continue  in 
the  service  of  the  state,  and,  above  all,  to  stick  to  the 
bottle. 

Ode  VII. — to  MuiirATius  plajtctts. 

"Laudabunt  ahi  claram  Ehodon." 

Khodes,  Ephesus,  or  Mitylene,  Plancus !  do  blasts  for  ever  sweep 

Or  Thessaly's  fair  valley,  Athwart  the  welkin  ranooured  ? 

Or  Corinth,  placed  two  gulfs  atween,  Friend !    do  the   clouds  for  ever 

Delphi,  or  Thebes,  suggest  the  scene  weep  ? — 

Where    some   would  choose  to  Then  cheer  thee !  and  thy  sorrows 

dally ;  deep 

Others  in  praise  of  Athens  launch,  Drown  in  a  flovfing  tankard : 

And  poets  lyric  Whether  "the  camp!  the  field!  the 

Grace,  with  Minerva's  olive-branch  sword !" 

Their  panegyric.  Be  still  thy  motto, 

To  Juno's  city  some  would  roam-  ^^  ^^"^  *°  ^^l  "^^^  ''^°^^ 

Argos-of  steeds  productive  j  ^  ^-^^It^r:^  grotto. 

In  rich  Mycense  make  their  home,  When  Teucer  fi:om   his  father's 

Or  find  Darissa  pleasantsome,  frown 

Or  Sparta  deem  seductive ;  For  exile  parted, 

Me  Tibur's    grove    charms    more  Wreathing  his  brow  with  poplar- 

than  all  crown. 

The  brook's  bright  bosom.  In  wine  he  bade   bis   comradea 

And  o'er  loud  Anio's  water&ll  drown 

Fruit-trees  in  blossom.  Their  woes  light-hearted ; 


390 


FATHEE  PEOITT'S   EELIQITES. 


And  thus  he  cried,  Whate'er  betide, 
Hope  shall  not  leave  me : 

The  home  a  father  hath  denied 
Let  Fortune  give  me ! 

Who  doubts  or  dreads  if  Teuoer 
lead? 
Hath  not  Apollo 


A  new-found  Salamit  decreecl, 
Old  Fatherland  shall  supersede  P 

Then  fearless  follow. 
Ye  who  could  bear  ten  years  your 
share 
Of  toil  and  slaughter, 
Drink!  for  our  sail  to-morrow'sgale 
Wafts  o'er  the  water. 


The  old  tune  of  "  Peas  upoii  a  trencher"  has  been  adapted 
to  "  The  time  I've  lost  in  wooing,"  by  Tom  Moore.  Mr. 
Cazalfes,  of  the  Assemblie  Nationale,  has  given  a  French 
version  of  the  immortal  original.     Ex  gr. : 

"  Garden,  apportez  moi,  moi, 

Des  pois,  des  petis  pois,  pois  : 
Ah,  quel  plaisir !  quand  je  les  vols 
Verts,  sur  leur  plat  de  bois,  bois,''  ka.  &o. 

I  hope  there  is  no  profanation  in  arranging  an  ode  of  Horace 
to  the  same  fascinating  tune. — The  diary  of  a  Soman  man 
of  fashion  can  be  easily  made  up  from  the  elements  of  daily 
occupation,  supplied  by  the  following : 


Ode  VIII. 

"  Lydia,  dio  per  omnes,"  &o. 


Enchanting  Lydia !  prithee. 
By  all  the  gods  that  see  thee. 

Pray  tell  me  this  :  Must  Sybaris 
Perish,  enamoured  vrith  thee  ? 
Lo !  wrapt  as  in  a  trance,  he 
Whose  hardy  youth  could  fancy 

Each  manly  feat,  dreads  dust  and  heat, 
All  through  thy  necromancy ! 

Why  rides  he  never,  tell  us, 

Accoutred  hke  his  feUows, 
For  curb  and  whip,  and  horsemanship. 

And  martial  bearing  zealous  ? 

Why  hangs  he  back,  demurrent 

To  breast  the  Tiber's  current. 
From  wrestlers'  oU,  as  from  the  coil 

Of  poisonous  snake,  abhorrent  ? 

No  more  wi^h  iron  rigour 
Eude  armour-marks  disfigure 
His  pliant  limbs,  but  languor  dims 
His  eye  and  wastes  his  vigour. 


Lydia,  die  per  omnes 
Te  Deos  oro, 
Sybarim 
Cur  properas  amando, 
Perdere  ?  cur  apricum 
Oderit  campum, 
Patiens 
Purveria  atque  Solis  ? 

Our  neque  militaris 
Inter  sequales 
Equitat  p 
Gkllica  nee  lupatis 
Temperat  ora  frjenis  ? 
Cur  timet  flavum 
Tiberim 
Tangere  ?  cur  olivum. 

Sanguine  viperino 
Cautius  vitat  ? 
Neque  jam 
Livida  jestat  armii 


THE    SON&S   OF   HOEA.CE. 


391 


Gone  is  the  youth's  ambition 
To  give  the  lance  emission, 
Or  hurl  adroit  the  circling  quoit 
In  gallant  competition. 

And  his  embowered  retreat  is 

Like  where  the  Son  of  Thetis 
Lm-ked  undivulged,  while  he  indulged 

A  mother's  soft  entreaties, 

Kobed  as  a  Grecian  girl. 

Lest  soldier-like  apparel 
Slight  raise  a  flame,  and  his  kindling  frame 

Through  the  ranks  of  slaughter  whirl. 


Brachia,  ssepe  disco, 
Sffipe  trans  finem 
Jaculo 
NobiUs  expedito  ? 

Quid  latet,  ut  marinse 
Filium  dicunt 
Thetidis, 
Sub  lachrymosa  Trojso 
Punera,  ne  virilis 
Cultus  in  csedem,  et 
Lycias 
Proriperet  caterras. 


To  relish  the  ninth  ode,  the  reader  must  figure  to  himself 
the  hunting-box  of  a  young  Eoman,  some  miles  from  Eome, 
■with  a  distant  view  of  the  Mediterranean  in  front ;  Mount 
Soracte  far  off  on  the  right;  a  tall  cypress  grove  on  the 
left,  backed  "by  the  ridge  of  Apennines. 


Ode  IX. 

"  Vides  ut  alt9,  stet  nive  candidum 
Soorate,"  &c. 


VEESIO  PKOUTICA. 

See  how  the  winter  blanches 

Soracte's  giant  brow ! 
Hear  how  the  forest-branches 

Groan  for  the  weight  of  snow ! 
Wtile  tjie  fix'd  ice  impanels 
Eirers  within  their  channels. 

Out  with  the  frost !  expel  her ! 

Pile  up  the  fuel- block, 
And  from  thy  hoary  cellar 

Produce  a  Sabine  crock  ! 
O  Thaliarck !  remember 
It  count  a  fourth  December. 

Give  to  the  gods  the  guidance 
Of  earth's  arrangements.     List ! 

The  blasts  at  their  high  biddance 
From  the  vex'd  deep  desist. 

Nor  'mid  the  cypress  riot  j 

And  the  old  elms  are  quiet. 


TEABUTTA  DAL  GAEGAIIO. 

Vedi  tu  di  neve  in  copia 

II  Soratle  omai  canuto 
Vedi  come  croUan  gli  alberi 

Sotto  al  peso  ;  e  '1  gelo  aeuto 
Come  ai  fi\imi  tra  le  sponde 
Fa  indurar  le  liquid'  oude. 

Soiogli  '1  freddo  con  man  prodiga 
Bifomendo,  O  TaHarco  ! 

Legni  al  foco ;  e  pii  del  solito 
A  spiUar  non  esser  parco 

Da  orecchiuto  orcio  Sabino, 

Di  quattr'  anni  '1  pretto  vino. 

Sien  del  resto  i  numi  gli  arbitri 
Ch'  ove  avran  d'Austro  e  diSorea 

Abattuto  il  fervid  impeto 
Per  la  vasta  arena  equorea 

Ne  i  cipressi  urto  nemico 

Scuoter^,  ue  1'  orno  antico. 


392  FATHEH  PEOrT's   EELIQITES. 

Enjoy,  without  foreboding,  Ci6  indagar  fuggi  Bollecito 

Lire  as  the  moments  run ;  Che  avvenir  doman  doTri ; 

Away  with  Care  corroding,  Q-uigni  a  lucro  il  da  ehe  reduce 

Youth  of  my  soul !  nor  shun  La  Fortuna  a  te  dark 

Love,  for  whose  smilpthou'rt  suited;  Ne  sprezzar.  ne'  tuoi  fresc'  anni 

And  'mid  the  dancers  foot  it.  Le  carole  e  dolci  afianui. 

While  youth's  hour  lasts,  beguile  it  j  Sin  ehe  lunga  da  te  yegeto 
Follow  the  field,  the  camp,  Sta  canuta  etk  importuna 

Each  manly  sport,  till  twilight  Campi  e  piazze  ti  riyeggano ; 

Brings  on  the  vesper-lamp  ;  E  fidele  quando  imbruna 

Then  let  thy  loved  one  lisp  her  T'  abbia  1'  ora  ehe  ti  appella 

Fond  feelings  in  a  whisper.  A  ronzar  con  la  tua  bella. 

Or  in  a  nook  hide  furtive.  Or'  S  oaro  quel  sorridere 
TiU  by  her  laugh  betrayed,  Soopritor  deUa  fanoiiilla 

And  drawn,  with  struggle  sportive,  Che  in  un  angolo  intemandosi 
Forth  from  her  ambuscade  ;  A  celarsi  si  trastulla. 

Bracelet  or  ring  th'  offender  Ed  al  finto  suo  ritegno 

In  forfeit  sweet  surrender !  Trar  d'  armilla  o  aneUo  il  pegno. 

The  BTibsequent  morceau  is  not  given  in  the  usual  printed 
editions  of  our  poet :  even  the  MSS.  omit  it,  except  the 
Vatican  Codex.  I  myself  have  no  hesitation  as  to  its  genu- 
ineness, though  Burns  has  saved  me  the  trouble  of  translation. 

Ode  X. 

"  Virent  arundines." — "  GJreen  grow  the  rashes,  O  !" 

There's  naught  but  care  on  oveiy  ban',  Cui'te  corrodunt  TJrbem,  Eus, 

In  every  hour  that  passes,  O !  Et  sapientAm  ceUulas, 

What  signifies  the  hfe  of  man,  Nee  vit^  vellem  frui  plus* 

An'  'twere  not  for  the  lasses,  O !  Nt  foret  ob  puellulas — 

Gtreen  grow  the  rashes,  O  !  Virent  arundines  ! 

Green  grow  the  rashes,  O  !  At  me  teneUulas 

The  sweetest  hours  that  e'er  I  spent,         Tsedet  horarum  nisi  queis 
Were  spent  amang  the  lasses,  O  !  Inter  fi\i  puellulas  1 

The  warly  race  may  riches  chase,  Divitias  avaro  dem. 

And  riches  BtUl  may  flee  them,  O !  Insudet  auri  cumulo. 

And  when  at  last  they  catch  them  fast,  Quserat  quocumque  modo  rem. 
Their  hearts  can  ne'er  enjoy  them,  O !     Inops  abibit  tumulo. 
Green  grow  the  rashes,  O  !  Virent  arundines ! 

Green  grow  the  rashes,  O !  At  me  teneUulas 

The  sweetest  hours  that  e'er  I  spent,         Ttedet  horarum  nisi  queis 
Were  spent  amang  the  lasses,  0  !  Inter  fui  puellulas ! 

»  Another  MS.  reads,  "  Nee  viverem  diutius,"  but  the  emphasis  and 
accent  on  the  final  rhyme  is  thus  impaired,  though  the  idiom  is  improved. 


THE   SONGS   OF   HOEACE.  393 

Give  me  a  canny  hour  at  e'en,  •  Ciim.  Sol  obsourat  spicula, 

My  arms  about  my  deary,  O  !  Stringente,  fit,  amiculSl, 

Then  warly  cares  and  warly  men  M,  braohio  tunc  niveo. 

May  all  gang  tapsalteery,  O  !  Berum  dulois  oblivio  ! 

Green  grow  the  rashes,  O !  Virent  arundines  ! 

Green  grow  the  rashes,  O !  At  me  teneUulas 

The  sweetest  hours  that  e'erl  spent,         Tsedet  horarum  nisi  quels 
Were  spent  eimang  the  lasses,  O !  Inter  fui  pueUulas  ! 

For  ye  sae  douce  ye  sneer  at  this,  Nam  dices  contr^  ?  cauum  grex ! 

Te're  naught  but  senseless  asses,  O !      An  fuit  vir  sagacior 
The  wisest  man  the  warld  e'er  saw,         Quam  Solomon?  autunquamrex 
He  dearly  loved  the  lasses,  O  !  In  virgines  salacior  ? 

Green  grow  the  rashes,  O  !  Virent  arundines  ! 

Green  grow  the  rashes,  O !  At  me  teneUulas 

The  sweetest  hours  that  e'er  Ispent,         Taedet  horarum  nisi  quels 
Were  spent  amang  the  lasses,  0  !  Inter  fui  pueUulas ! 

Dame  Nature  swears  the  lovely  dears     Quas  cum  de  terrse  vasoulo 

Her  noblest  wark,  she  classes,  O  !  Natura  finxit  beUulas, 

Her  prentice  han'  she  tried  on  man,       Tentavit  manum  masculo 
And  then  she  made  the  lasses,  O !  Pormavit  tunc  pueUulas. 

Green  grow  the  rashes,  O  !  Virent  arundines  ! 

Green  grow  the  rashes,  O !  At  me  teneUulas, 

The  sweetest  hours  that  e'er  Ispent,  Tsedet  horarum  nisi  quels 

Were  spent  amang  the  lasses,  O !  Inter  fui  pueUulas  ! 


THE  SON&S  OF  HOEACE. 

DECADE   THE    SECOND. 

"  Horatium  in  quibusdam  noUm  interpretari." — QunrCT.  Inatit.  Or.,  i.  8. 

"  The  lyrical  part  of  Horace  can  never  be  perfectly  translated." 

Sam.  Johnson  apud  Bosweii,  vol.  vii.  p.  219. 

"  Horacio  es  de  todos  los  poetas  latinos  el  mas  defioU  de  manejar." 
Don  Javieb  de  Buegos,  p-  11.    Madrid,  1820, 

"  Horace  crochette  et  furette  tout  le  magasin  des  mots.'' 

Montaigne,  Essaii. 

"  Prout's  translations  from  Horace  are  too  free  and  easy." 

Athenaum,  9th  July,  1836. 

ncipa(70/iai  XeYttv,   Q    ANAPES  A0HNA1OI,  Stifiiiq  vpidiv  roaavrov, 
nriiSav  iravra  aKOvarjTe,  Kptvart,  xai  lir)  TrpoTipov  irfoXafiPavtTi, 

Demost-,  9iXnr.  Upar, 

The  sage  Montaigne,  a  grave  CastiUian, 
Old  Dr.  Johnson,  and  QuinctUlian, 


35)4  TATHEB    PBOTJT'S    EELIQTJES. 

Would  say,  a  task,  by  no  means  facile, 

Had  fallen  to  him  of  Watergrasshill. 

May  he,  then,  claim  indulgence  for  hia 

Eenewed  attempt  to  render  Horace  ?. .  . . 

As  for  your  critic  o'  th'  Aeinseum, 

We  (Torke),  unrancoured,  hope  to  see  him 

Smoking  yet  many  a  pipe,  au't  please  ye, 

With  us  at  old  Prout's  "  peee  and  easy." — O.  Y. 

It  is  fully  admitted  at  this  time  of  day,  that  endurable 
translations,  in  any  modem  idiom,  of  the  Greek  and  E>oman 
capi  d'opera,  are  lamentably  few.  But  if  there  be  a  paucity 
of  successful  attempts  in  prose,  it  must  not  surprise  us  that 
the  candidates  for  renown  in  the  poetical  department 
should  be  still  less  fortunate  in  the  efforts  they  have  made 
to  climb  the  sacred  hill  by  catching  at  the  skirts  of  some 
classic  songster.  The  established  and  canonised  authors  of 
antiquity  seem  to  view  with  no  favourable  eye  these  sur- 
reptitious endeavours  to  get  at  the  summit-level  of  their 
glorious  pre-eminence,  and  Horace  in  particular  (as  Maw- 
worm,  or  Mathews,  would  say)  has  positively  resolved  on 
"  wearing  a  Spenser."  To  the  luckless  and  presumptuous 
wight  who  would  fain  follow  him,  in  the  hope  of  catching 
at  a  fold  of  his  impracticable  jacket,  he  turns  round  and 
addresses,  in  his  own  peculiar  Latin,  the  maxim  which  we 
will  content  ourselves  with  giving  in  the  Prench  of  Vol- 
taire : 

"  Le  nombre  des  elus  au  Pamasse  est  oomplet!" 

"  The  places  are  all  taken,  on  the  double-peaked  mountain 
of  Greek  and  Roman  poesy  the  mansions  are  all  tenanted ; 
the  classic  Pegasus  won't  carry  double ;  there  is  not  the 
slightest  chance  here  :  go  elsewhere,  friend,  and  seek  out  in 
the  regions  of  the  north  a  Parnassus  of  your  own." 

Whereupon  we  are  reminded  of  an  anecdote  of  the  Irish 
Rebellion  of  1798,  when  the  German  horse-auxiliaries  were 
routed  at  Ballynacoppul,  in  the  county  Wexford,  by  the 
bare-footed  heroes  of  the  pike  and  pitchfork.  A  victorious 
Patlander  was  busily  engaged  in  a  field  pulling  off  the  boots 
from  a  dead  trooper,  when  another  repealer,  coming  up, 
suggested  the  propriety  of  dividing  the  spoil — half-a-pair 
being,  in  his  opinion,  a  reasonable  allowance  for  both.  "Why, 
then,  neighbour,"  quietly  observed  the  operator  in  reply, 


THE   SONGS   OF   HOEACE.  S95 

"  can't  you  be  aisy,  and  go  and  kill  a  Hessian  for  yourself?" 
By  what  process  of  induction  this  story  occurred  to  us  just 
now  we  cannot  imagine;  h-propos  des  bottes,  most  probably. 

Certain  it  is,  that,  to  succeed,  a  translation  must  possess 
more  or  less  intrinsic  originality.  Among  us,  Pope's 
Homer  is,  beyond  all  comparison,  the  most  successful  per- 
formance of  its  kind  ;  not  that  it  textually  reproduces  the 
Iliad — a  task  far  more  accurately  accomplished  by  the  maniac 
Cowper,  in  his  unreadable  version — but  because  the  richly 
endowed  mind  of  Pope  himself  pours  out  its  own  opulence 
in  every  line,  and  works  the  mineral  ores  of  Greece  with  the 
abundant  resources  of  English  capital. 

Dryden's  forcible  and  vigorous,  but  more  frequently 
rollicking  and  titubant,  progress  through  the  JEneid,  may 
awhile  arrest  attention ;  nay,  ever  and  anon  some  bold  pas- 
sage will  excite  our  wonder,  at  the  felicitous  hardihood  of 
"  glorious  John :"  but  it  would  be  as  wrong  to  call  it  ViB- 
&IL,  as  to  take  the  slapdash  plungings  of  a  "  wild  goose  at 

giy  "  for  the  graceful  and  majestic  motion  of  the  Swan  of 
antua  gliding  on  the  smooth  surface  of  his  native  Mincio, 
under  a  luxuriant  canopy  of  reeds.  The  Tacitus  of  Arthur 
Murphy  is  not  the  terse,  significant,  condensed,  and  deep- 
searching  contemporary  of  Pliny ;  no  one  would  feel  more 
puzzled  than  the  Koman  to  recognise  his  own  semi-oraculap 
style  in  the  sonorous  phraseology,  the  ;uas2-Gibboniaa 
period,  the  "  long-impedimented  march  of  oratorio  pomp  " 
with  which  the  Cork  man  has  encumbered  him.  Aiid 
yet  Murphy  tacitly  passes  for  a  fit  English  representative  of 
the  acute  annalist,  the  scientific  analtseb  of  imperial 
Eome.  Our  Junius  alone  could  have  done  justice  to  the 
iron  Latinity  of  Tacitus.  To  translate  the  letters  of  old 
"  Nominis  umbra  "  into  Erench  or  Italian,  would  be  as  hope- 
less an  experiment  as  to  try  and  Anglicise  the  naif  Lafon* 
taine,  or  make  Metastasio  talk  his  soft  nonsense  through  the 
medium  of  our  rugged  gutturals.  Plutarch  was  lucky  enough 
to  have  found  long  ago,  among  the  Erench,  a  kindred  mind 
in  old  Amyot :  the  only  drawback  to  which  good  fortune  is, 
that  your  modem  Gaul  requires  somebody  to  translate  the 
translator.  Abbe  D'eliUe  has  enriched  his  country  with  an 
admirable  version  of  the  Georgics  ;  but  the  same  ornamental 
touches  which  he  used  so  successMly  in  embellishing  Vir- 


396  FATHEB  peottt's  eemques. 

gil,  have  rendered  his  translation  of  our  Milton  a  model  of 
absurdity. 

No  one  reads  Ossian  now-a-days  in  England ;  his  poems 
lie  neglected  among  us — "  desolate  "  as  the  very  "  walls  of 
Balclutha ;"  yet  in  Italy,  thanks  to  Cesarotti,  "  Kngal "  still 
brandishes  his  spear  "  like  an  icicle,"  and  the  stars  continue 
"  dimly  to  twinkle  through  thy  form,  ghost  of  the  gallant 
Oscar !"  The  affair  presents,  in  truth,  a  far  more  ornate 
and  elaborate  specimen  of  the  bombast  in  the  toscanafavella 
than  it  doth  in  the  original  Macphersonio ;  and  Buonaparte, 
who  confessedly  modelled  the  style  of  his  "  proclamations  " 
on  the  speeches  of  these  mad  Highlanders,  derived  all  his 
phil-Ossianism  from  the  work  of  Cesarotti.  Of  the  Paradise 
Lost  there  happen  to  be  a  couple  of  excellent  Italian  versions 
(with  the  author  of  one,  the  exiled  Guido  SoreUi,  we  now 
and  then  crack  a  bottle  at  Offley's)  ;  and  I'Eneide  of  Annibal 
Caro  is  nearly  unexceptionable.  Eabelais  has  met,  in  our 
Sir  Thomas  Urquhart,  a  congenial  spirit;  but  Don  Quixote 
has  never  been  enabled  to  cross  the  Pyrenees,  much  less  the 
ocean-boundaries  of  the  peninsula.  iSTevertheless,  it  must 
be  admitted  that  Westminster  has  lately  sent,  ia  Evans,  a 
rival  of  the  woful  knight's  chivalry  to  St.  Sebastian.  To 
return  to  the  classics :  when  we  have  named  Dr.  Grifford's 
Juvenal,  with  the  praiseworthy  labours  of  Sotheby  and  Chap- 
man, we  think  we  have  exhausted  the  subject ;  for  it  requires 
no  conjurer  to  tell  us  that  Tom  Moore's  Anacreon  is  sad 
rubbish,  and  that,  in  hundreds  of  similar  cases,  the  tradot- 
tore  differs  from  a  traditore  only  by  a  syllable. 

On  the  theory,  as  well  as  the  practice  of  translation,  old 
Prout  seems  to  have  bestowed  considerable  attention; 
though  it  would  appear,  at  first,  somewhat  strange,  that 
so  eccentric  and  self-opiniated  a  genius  as  he  evidently 
was,  could  stoop  to  the  common  drudgery  of  merely  trans- 
ferring the  thoughts  of  another  from  one  idiom  into  a 
second  or  third — nay,  occasionally,  a  fourth  one  (as  in  the 
case  of  "  Les  Bois  de  Blarney  "),  instead  of  pouring  out  on 
the  world  his  own  ideas  in  a  copious  flood  of  original  compo- 
sition. Why  did  he  not  indite  a  "  poem  "  of  his  Own  ?  write 
a  treatise  on  political  economy  ?  figure  as  a  natural  theolo- 
gian ?  turn  history  into  romance  for  the  ladies  P  or  into  au 
old  almanack  for  the  Whigs  P    We  believe  the  matter  has 


THE    BONGS    OF   HOEACB.  397 

been  already  explained  by  us ;  but,  lest  there  should  be  any 
mistake,  we  do  not  care  how  often  we  repeat  the  father's 
favourite  assertion,  that,  in  these  latter  days,  "  oeighnalitt 
there  can  be  none."  The  thing  is  not  to  be  had.  Disguise 
thyself  as  thou  wilt.  Plagiarism !  thou  art  still  perceptible 
to  the  eye  of  the  true  bookworm ;  and  the  silent  process  of 
reproduction  in  the  world  of  ideas  is  not  more  demonstrable 
to  the  scientific  inquirer  than  the  progressive  metempsy- 
chosis of  matter  itself,  through  all  its  variform  molecules. 
As  Horace  has  it : 

"  Multa  renascuntur  quse  jam  cecidere." — Mp.  ad  Pison.,  70. 

Or,  to  quote  the  more  direct  evidence  of  honest  old  Chau- 
cer, who  discovered  the  incontrovertible  fact  at  the  very 
peep-o'-day  of  modem  literature : 

. . . . "  ©ut  of  oltre  fclBitg,  as  man  saietl), 
Comity  all  tjts  nctoe  come  from  jjete  to  ^tatn ; 

Slnli  out  of  olbc  fiDlcis,  in  gooli  fattlje, 
Comitig  all  tjts  netne  science  tf)at  menne  learn." 

Scarce  is  an  ancient  writer  sunk  into  oblivion,  or  his 
works  withdrawn  from  general  perusal,  when  some  literary 
Beau  Tibbs  starts  upon  town  with  the  identical  cast-off  ia- 
teUectual  wardrobe,  albeit  properly  "refreshed"  so  as  to 
puzzle  any  mortal  eye,  save  that  of  a  regularly  educated  Jew 
old-clothesman.  Addison  has  hinted,  somewhat  obscurely, 
his  belief  ia  the  practice  here  described,  when  (recording  his 
judgment  aUegorieally)  he  says — 

"  Soon  as  the  shades  of  nighi;  prevail. 
The  moon  takes  up  the  wondrous  tale." 

Should  any  one  wish  to  see  this  truth  further  developed,  let 
him  purchase  a  book  called  The  Wondrous  Tale  of  Alroy,  by 
Benjamin  Disraeli  the  Tounker ;  of  which,  no  doubt,  a  few 
copies  remain  on  hand. 

So  long  ago  as  the  seventy-second  Olympiad,  an  ingenious 
writer  of  Greek  songs  had  already  intimated  his  knowledge 
of  these  goings-on  in  the  literary  circles,  and  of  the  braia- 
Buckiag  system  generally,  when  he  most  truly  (though  enig- 
matically) represents  the  "black  earth"  drinHng  the  rain- 
water, the  trees  pumping  up  the  moisture  of  the  soil,  the 


398  FATHEB  PEOTJt's   BEXIQTTES. 

Bim  inhaling  the  ocean  vapours  and  vegetable  juices,  the 
moon  living  equally  on  suction — 

O  &'  j)X;os  SaXarraii 

and  so  on,  through  a  long  series  of  compotations  and  mutual  ■ 
hobnobbings,  to  the  end  of  the  chapter.      Most  modem 
readers  are  satisfied  with  moonshine. 

Prout  had  too  high  a  sense  of  honesty  to  affect  original 
writing ;  hence  he  openly  gave  himself  out  as  a  simple  trans- 
lator. "  Non  meus  hie  sermo"  was  his  constant  avowal,  and 
he  sincerely  pibied  the  numerous  pretenders  to  inventive 
genius  with  whom  the  times  abound.  Smitten  w^th  the  love 
of  antique  excellence,  and  absorbed  in  the  contemplation  of 
classic  beauty,  he  turned  with  disdain  from  books  of  minor 
attraction,  and  had  no  relish  save  for  the  ever-enduring  per- 
fections of  the  Greek  and  Roman  muse.  He  delighted  in 
transferring  these  ancient  thoughts  to  a  modern  vocabulary, 
and  found  solace  and  enjoyment  in  the  renewed  repercussion 
of  remote  and  bygone  "  old  familiar"  sounds. 

There  is  not,  in  the  whole  range  of  pagan  mythology,  a 
more  graceful  impersonation  than  that  of  the  nymph  iSsho 
— the  disconsolate  maiden,  who  pined  away  until  nothing 
remained  but  the  faculty  of  giving  back  the  voice  of  her 
beloved.  To  the  veteran  enthusiast  of  WatergrasshiU,  little 
else  was  left  in  the  decline  of  bis  age  but  a  correspon(^g 
tendency  to  translate  what  in  his  youth  he  had  admired ; 
though  it  must  be  added,  that  'his  echoes  were  sometimes 
like  the  one  at  Killarney,  which,  if  asked,  "  How  do  you  do, 
Paddy  Blake  ?"  will  answer,  "  Pretty  well,  I  thank  you .'" 

OLIYEE  TORKE. 

Regent  Street,  July  2Sth. 


Watergrasihill,  half-past  eleven. 

In  the  natural  progress  of  things,  and  following  the  strict 
order  of  succession,  I  alight  on  the  tenth  ode  of  book  the 
first,  whereof  the  title  is  "  Ad  Meeotjrium."  This  per- 
sonage, called  by  the  Greeks  Heemes,  or  the  inter-"  preter," 
deserves  particular  notice  at  my  hands  in  this  place  j  foras- 


THE    SONGS    OF   HOEACE.  399 

much  as,  among  the  crowd  of  attributes  ascribed  to  him  by 
pagan  divines,  and  the  vast  multiplicity  of  occupations  to 
which  he  is  represented  aa  giving  his  attention  (such  as  per- 
forming heavenly  messages,  teaching  eloquence,  guiding 
ghosts,  presiding  over  highways,  patronising  commerce  and 
robbers),  he  originated,  and  may  be  supposed  to  preserve  a 
lingering  regard  for,  the  art  of  translation.  Conveyancing 
is  a  science  divisible  into  many  departments,  over  all  which 
his  influence,  no  doubt,  extends :  nor  is  it  the  least  trouble- 
some province  of  aU  aptly  to  convey  the  meaning  of  a  diffi- 
cult writer.  "With  Oephetjs,  then,  may  it  be  allowable  to 
address  him  on  the  threshold  of  a  task  like  mine — 

KXu^;  /Aou  Eg^s/a,  Aiog  ayyiXz,  x.  r.  X. 

Indeed  Dean  Swift,  in  his  advice  to  poets,  seems  to  be  fully 
aware  of  the  importance  to  be  attached  to  the  assistance 
of  so  useful  and  multiform  an  agent,  when  he  knowingly 
penned  the  following  recipe  for  "  the  machinery  "  of  an  epic : 
"Take  of  deities,  male  and  female,  as  many  as  you  can 
use ;  separate  them  into  two  equal  parts,  and  keep  Jupiter 
in  the  middle :  let  Juno  set  him  in  a  ferment,  and  Venus 
mollify  him.     Eemember,  on  all  occasions,  to  make  use  of 

VOLATILE  MEECrET." 

The  quantity  of  business  necessarily  transacted  by  him 
in  his  innumerable  capacities,  has  furnished  that  profane 
scoffer  at  all  established  creeds,  LirciAir,  with  matter  of  con- 
siderable merriment ;  he  going  so  far,  in  one  of  his  dialogues, 
as  to  hint  that,  though  young  in^appearance  (according  to 
what  sculpture  and  painting  have  made  of  his  outward  sem- 
blance), he  must  fain  be  as  old  as  Japhet  in  malice.  This 
degenerate  Grreek  would  seem  to  look  on  the  god  of  wit, 
eloquence,  commerce,  and  diplomacy  as  a  sort  of  pagan  com- 
pound of  Figaro,  Eothschild,  Dick  Turpin,  and  Talleyrand. 
it  would  be  naturally  expected  that  our  neighbours,  the 
French,  should  have  evinced,  from  the  earliest  times,  an  in- 
stinctive partiality  for  so  lively  an  impersonation  of  their 
own  endemic  peculiarities  ;  and  we  therefore  feel  no  surprise 
in  finding  that  fact  recorded  by  a  holy  father  of  the  second 
century  (Tertull.  adv.  Gnostic,  cap.  vii.),  the  same  obser- 
vation occurring  to  Caesar  in  his  Commentaries,  viz.  "  Galli 
deum  maxime  Mercurium  colunt"  (Ub.  iv.).     Htjet,  the  iUus- 


400  FATHEE  PROTTT'S   EELIQTTES. 

triouB  bishop  of  Avranches,  has  brouglit  considerable  ability 
to  the  identification  of  Mercury,  or  Hermes  Trismegistus, 
with  the  Hebrew  shepherd  Moses  ;  and  this,  I  confess,  has 
been  my  own  system,  long  ago  adopted  by  me  on  the  perusal 
of  Pather  Kircher's  (Edipus. 

The  twisted  serpents  round  his  magical  rod  are  but  slight 
indications  of  his  connexion  with  Egypt,  compared  to  the 
coincidences  which  might  be  alleged,  were  it  advisable  to 
enter  on  the  inquiry ;  and  I  merely  allude  to  it  here  because 
Horace  himself  thinks  proper,  ia  the  followiag  ode,  to  caD 
his  celestial  patron  a  "  nephew  of  Mount  Atlas  :"  setting  thus 
at  rest  the  question  of  his  African  pedigree.  This  odd  ex- 
pression has  been  re-echoed  by  an  Italian  poet  of  celebrity 
in  some  sonorous  lines : 

"  Scendea  talor  degli  inaurati  Boanni 
E  risaliya  alle  Btellanti  rote, 
Araldo  dagli  Dei  battendo  i  vamii 
D'Atlante  il  facondissimo  nipote.'' 

We  are  told  by  ApoUodorus  how  the  god,  walking  one 
day  on  the  banks  of  the  Nile,  after  the  annual  inundation 
had  ceased,  and  the  river  had  fallen  back  into  its  accustomed 
channel,  found  a  dead  tortoise  Ipng  on  its  back,  all  the 
fleshy  parts  of  which  had  been  dried  up  by  the  action  of  the 
sun's  rays,  so  intensely  powerful  in  Egypt :  but  a  few  of  the 
tougher  fibres  remained;  upon  touching  which  the  light- 
fingered  deity  found  them  to  emit  an  agreeable  tone.  Eorth- 
with  was  conceived  ia  his  inventive  brain  the  idea  of  a  lute. 
Thus  the  laws  of  gravitation  are  reported  to  have  suggested 
themselves  to  Newton,  while  pondering  in  his  orchard  of  an 
afternoon,  on  seeing  a  ripe  apple  fall  from  its  parent  branch. 
The  Corinthian  capital  was  the  result  of  a  Gtreek  girl  having 
left  her  clothes-basket,  covered  over  with  a  tUe,  on  a  plant 
of  acanthus.  The  steam-bnghne  originated  in  observing 
the  motion  of  the  lid  on  a  barber's  kettle.  "Whatever  grace- 
fulness and  beauty  may  be  found  in  the  three  first  state- 
ments (and,  surely,  they  are  highly  calculated  to  charm  the 
fancy),  the  last,  I  fear  (though  leading  to  far  more  import- 
ant consequences  than  all  the  rest),  ofiers  but  a  meagre 
subject  for  painting  or  poetry. 

The  Latin  name  of  Mercury  is  derived,  according  to  a 
tradition  religiously  preserved  among  those  hereditary  guar- 


THE    SONGS   OF   HOEAOE.  401 

dians  of  primitive  ignorance,  the  Bchoolmasters,  from  the 
"word  me/'x,  merchandise.  I  beg  leave  to  submit  (and  I  am 
borne  out  by  an  old  MS.  in  the  King's  Library,  Paris, 
marked  B.  <D.),  that,  though  the  name  of  commercial  com- 
modities may  have  been  aptly  taken  from  the  god  supposed 
to  preside  over  their  prosperous  interchange,  he  himself  was 
so  called  from  his  functions  of  messenger  betvreen  earth  and 
heaven,  quasi  medius  crBBEirs  ;  an  origin  of  faa*  higher  im- 
port, and  an  allusion  to  far  more  sacred  doctrines  than  are 
to  be  gathered  from  the  ordinary  ravings  of  pagan  theology. 
Among  the  Greeks,  he  rejoiced  in  the  equally  significant 
title  of  Hermes,  or,  the  "  expounder  of  hidden  things." 
And  it  would  appear  that  he  was  as  constantly  put  in 
requisition  by  his  classic  devotees  of  old,  as  St.  Antonio 
of  Padua  is  at  the  present  day  among  the  vetturini,  and 
the  vulgar  generally  throughout  Italy.  It  is,  however,  a 
somewhat  strange  contradiction  in  the  Greek  system  of 
divinity,  that'  the  god  of  locomotion  and  rapidity  should 
also  be  the  protector  of  fixtures,  milestones,  land  marks, 
monumental  erections,  and  of  matters  conveying  the  idea 
of  permanence  and  stability.  The  well-known  signet  of 
Erasmus,  which  gave  rise  to  sundry  malicious  imputations 
against  that  eminent  priest,  was  a  statue  of  the  god  in  the 
shape  of  a  terminus,  with  the  motto,  "  cedo  ntjlli  ;"  and 
every  one  knows  what  odium  attached  itself  to  the  youth 
Alcibiades,  when,  in  a  mad  frolic,  he  removed  certain  fiigures 
of  this  description,  during  a  night  of  jollity,  in  the  streets 
of  Athens.  The  author  of  the  Book  of  Proverbs  gives  a 
caution,  which  it  were  well  for  modern  destructives  to  take 
to  themselves,  entering  into  the  spirit  that  dictated  that 
most  sensible  admonition  (Prov.  xxii.  28),  "Eemove  not 
the  ancient  landmarks  which  thy  fathers  have  set :"  "  Ne 
transgrediai-is  ierminos  antiquos  quos  posueruat  patres  tui." 

Ode  X.— hymk  to  MEEcrBT. 

"  Meecubi  facunde  Nepoa  Atlautis." 

Persuasive  Hermes  !  Aftic's  sou !  Merouri,  facunde  nepos  Atlantis, 

Wbo — scarce  had  human  life  begun —  Qui  feros  cultus  hominum  re- 

Amid  our  rude  forefathers  shone  centum 

With  arts  instructive,  Tooe  formasti  catus,  et  decorea 

And  man  to  new  refinement  won  More  palsestras ! 

With  grace  seductive. 

D   D 


402  TATHEE  TEOTfT'S   EELIQTIES. 

Herald  of  Jove,  and  of  his  court,  Te  canam,  magni  Jovis  et  D©- 

The  lyre's  inventor  and  support,  orum 

&enius  1  that  can  at  will  resort  Nuntium,  curvseque  lyrse  paren- 

To  glorious  cunning ;  tern 

SoiJi  gods  and  men  in  fiirtive  sport  CaUidum,  quidquid  plaouit,  jo- 

And  wit  outrunning !  coso 

Oondere  fiirto. 

"Sov,  when  a  child  the  woods  amid,  Te>  boves  olim  nisi  reddidissea 

Apollo's  kine  drew  off  and  hid ;  Per  dolum  amotas,  puerum  mi- 

And  when  the  god  with  menace  bid  naci 

The  spoil  deliver,  Voce  dum  terret,  viduus  pharetra 

Forced  him  toBmile— for.whilehechid,  Eisit  ApoUo. 

You  stole  his  quiver ! 

The  night  old  Priam  sorrowing  went,  Quin  et  Atridas,  duce  te,  Buper- 

With  gold  through  many  »  Grecian  bos, 

tent,  Uio  dives  Priamus  relicto, 

And  many  a  foeman's  watchfire,  bent  Thessalosque    ignes    et   iniqua 

To  ransom  Hector,  Trojse 

In  Tou  he  found  a  provident  Castra  fefeHit. 

Ghiido  and  protector. 

Where  bloom  Elysium's  groves  be«  Tu  pias  Isetis  animas  reponis 

yond  Sedibus,  virgaque  levem  coerces 

Death's  portals  and  the  Stygian  pond,    Aurea  turbam,  superis  Heorum 
Tou  guide  the   ghosts  with  golden  Gratus  et  imis. 

wand. 
Whose  special  charm  is 
That  Jove  and  Pluto  both  are  fond 
Alike  of  Hermes ! 

So  much  for  Mercury.  Turn  we  now  to  another  feature 
in  the  planetary  system.  The  rage  for  astrological  pur- 
suits, and  the  belief  in  a  secret  influence  exercised  by 
the  stars  over  the  life  and  fortune  of  indiyiduals,  seems, 
at  certain  epochs  of  the  world's  history,  to  have  seized  on 
mankind  like  an  epidemic ;  but  never  was  the  mania  so  preva- 
lent as  after  the  death  of  Julius  Csesar.  The  iaflux  of  Asiatic 
luxury  had  been  accompanied  by  the  arrival  at  Eome  of  a  num- 
ber of  "  wise  men  from  the  east,"  and  considerable  curiosity 
had  been  excited  among  all  classes  by  the  strange  novelty  of 
oriental  traditions.  Among  these  remnants  of  original  reve- 
lation, the  announcement  of  a  forthcoming  Conqueror,  to  be 
harbingered  and  us'hered  into  the  possession  of  empire  by  a 
mysterious  star,*  had  fixed  the  attention  of  political  intri- 

*  The  expressions  of  Propertius  are  very  remarkable : 
"  Quseritis  et  coelo  phoenicum  inventa  sereno 
QucB  sit  Stella,"  &c.  &o. — ^Lib.  ii.  20,  60. 


THE    SONGS    or   HOBACE.  403 

guers  as  a  fit  engine  for  working  on  popular  credulity ;  and 
hence  the  partisans  of  young  Octavius  were  constantly  ring- 
ing the  changes  on  "  C^saeis  Astbtjm"  and  "  jTTLiirM 
SiDTJS,"  until  they  had  actually  forced  the  populace  into  a 
strong  faith  in  the  existence  of  some  celestial  phenomenon 
connected  with  the  imperial  house  of  Csesar.  Those  who 
lecoUect,  as  I  do,  how  {a,moualjPastorini'a  Prophecies  as- 
sisted the  interests  of  Captain  Kock  and  the  Dynasty  of 
Derrynane,  wiU  understand  the  nature  of  this  sort  of  hum- 
bug, and  will  readily  imagine  how  the  mob  of  Bome  was 
tutored  by  the  augurs  into  a  firm  reliance  on  the 'inter- 
ference of  heaven  in  the  business.  Buonaparte  was  too 
shrewd  a  student  of  human  weaknesses,  and  had  read  history 
too  carefully  to  overlook  the  tendency  of  the  vulgai-  towards 
this  belief  in  supernatural  apparitions  ;  hence  he  got  up  an 
ignis  fatmis  of  his  own,  which  he  called  the  "  SoleiIi  d'Atts- 
TEELITZ,"  and  out  of  which  he  took  a  particular  shiae  on 
more  than  one  brilliant  occasion.  Many  an  old  infidel  gre- 
nadier was  firmly  persuaded,  that,  better  than  Joshua  the 
Jew,  their  leader  could  command  the  glorious  disc  to  do  his 
bidding  ;  and  every  battle-field,  consequently,  became  a 
"  valley  of  Ajalon,"  where  they  smote  the  sourcrout  children 
of  Germany  to  their  hearts'  content.  But  we  are  wander- 
iag  from  the  era  of  Augustus.  By  a  very  natural  process, 
the  belief  in  a  ruling  star,  in  connexion  with  the  imperial 
family,  expanded  itself  from  that  narrow  centre  into  the 
broad  circumference  of  every  family  in  the  empire  ;  and  each 
individual  began  to  fancy  he  might  discover  a  small  twink- 
ling shiner,  of  personal  importance  to  himself,  in  the  wide 
canopy  of  heaven.  Great,  in  consequence,  was  the  profit 
accruing  to  any  cunning  seer  from  the  east,  who  might  hap- 
pen to  set  up  an  observatory  on  some  one  of  the  seven  hills 
for  the  purpose  of  allotting  to  each  lady  and  gentleman  their 
own  particular  planet.  Nostradamus,  Cagliostro,  Dr.  Spurz- 
heim,  and  St.  John  Long,  had  long  been  anticipated  by  Eo- 
man  practitioners  ;  and  in  the  annals  of  roguery,  as  well  as 
of  literature  and  politics,  there  is  nothing  new  under  the  sun. 
In  Mr.  Ainsworth's  romance  of  the  Admirable  Crichton 
(which  he  wisely  submitted  in  embryo  to  my  perusal), 
I  cannot  but  commend  the  use  he  has  made  of  the 
astrological  practices  so    prevalent    .under    the    reign  of 


404 


FATHEE  PEOri'S   EEIiIQUES. 


Henry  de  Valois,  and  in  the  days  of  Catherine  de  Medicis  ;  in- 
deed, I  scarcely  know  any  of  the  so-called  historical  novels 
of  this  frivolous  generation,  virhich  has  altogether  so  graphi- 
cally reproduced  the  spirit  and  character  of  the  times,  as 
this  dashing  and  daring  portraiture  of  the  young  Scotchman 
ill  Paris  and  his  contemporaries. 

The  mistress  of  Horace,  it  would  seem,  had  taken  it  into 
her  head  to  go  and  consult  these  soothsayers  from  Chaldea 
as  to  the  probable  duration  of  the  poet's  life  and  her  own — of 
course,  fancying  it  needless  to  inquire  as  to  the  probability 
of  their  amours  being  quite  commensurate  with  their  earthly 
career  ;  a  matter  which  circumstances,  nevertheless,  should 
render  somewhat  problematical — whereupon  her  lover  chides 
the  propensity,  in  the  folloi*ing  strain  of  tender  and  affec- 
tionate remonstrance : 


Ode  XI. — A3)   lEXTOOTTOETr. 


Love,  mine !  seek  not  to  grope 
Through  the  dark  windings  of  Chaldemi  tritch- 
ery, 
To  learn  your  horoscope. 
Or  mine,  from  vile  adepts  in  fraud  and  treach- 
ery. 

My  Leuconoe !  shun 
Those  sons  of  Babylon. 


Tu  ne  qusesierifl, 

Scire  nefas, 
Quem  mihi,  queni  tibi, 
Finem  Di  dederint, 

Leuoonoe, 
Nee  Babylonios 
Tentaris  numeros.— 

Ut  meUus. 


Far  better  'twere  to  wait,  Quidquid  erit,  pati. 

Calmly  resigned,  the  destined  hour's  maturity,   Seu  plures  hiemes, 


Whether  our  life's  brief  date 
This  winter  close,  or,  through  a  long  futurity, 
For  U3  the  sea  still  roar 
On  yon  Tyrrenean  shore. 


Seu  trihuit 

Jupiter  ultimam, 

QuEe  nunc  oppositii 
DebiUtat 

Pumieibus  mare 

Tyrrhenum ! 

Sapias,  vina  liques, 

Et  spatio  brevi 
Spem  longem  reseces. 

Dum  loquimur. 

Fugerit  invida 
^tas.     Carpe  diem, 

Quam  minimum 
Credula  postero. 

Horace  has  been  often  accused  of  plundering  the  Greeks, 


Let  "Wisdom  fill  the  cup ; — 
Vain  hopes  of  lengthened  days  and  years  feli- 
citous 

Folly  may  treasure  up  ; 
Ours  be  the  day  that  passeth — unsolicitous 

Of  what  the  next  may  bring. 

Time  flieth  as  we  sing ! 


THE    SONGS    OF   HOKACE.  405 

and  of  transferring  entire  odes  from  tbeir  language  into 
Latin  metres.  The  charge  is  perfectly  borne  out  by  conclu- 
sive facts,  and  I  shall  have  perhaps  an  opportunity  of  re- 
curring to  the  evidences,  as  afforded  in  the  subsequent 
decades  of  this  series.  The  opening  of  the  following  glori- 
ous dithyramb  is  clearly  borrowed  from  the  Ava^i^og/iiyytf 
'Tit.ni  of  Pindar ;  but  I  venture  to  say  that  there  is  not 
among  the  Songs  of  Horace  a  more  truly  Eoman,  a  more 
intensely  national  effusion,  than  this  invocation  of  divine 
protection  on  the  head  of  the  government.  The  art  of 
lyrical  progression,  the  an  celare  arlem,  is  nowhere  prac- 
tised with  greater  effect ;  and  the  blending  up  of  all  the 
historical  recollections  most  dear  to  the  country  with  the 
prospects  of  the  newly-established  dynasty,  the  hopes  of 
the  young  Marcellus,  and  the  preservation  of  the  emperor's 
life,  is  a  masterstroke  of  the  politico-poetical  tactician.  The 
very  introduction  of  a  word  in  honour  of  the  republican 
Cato,  by  throwing  the  public  off  its  guard,  and  by  giving 
an  air  of  in4ependent  boldness  to  the  composition,  admirably 
favours  the  object  he  has  in  view.  A  more  august  associa- 
tion of  ideas,  a  bolder  selection  of  images,  is  not  to  be  found 
within  the  compass  of  any  ode,  ancient  or  modem — save, 
perhaps,  in  the  canticle  of  Habatkuk,  or  in  the  "  Persian 
least"  of  Dry  den. 

Ode  XII. — A  PBATEE  roB  ATrGrsTtrs. 

"  Quem  virmn  aut  heroa." 

Aria — "  Sublime  was  the  warning." 

Name  Clio,  the  man !  or  the  god. .  — for  whose  sake 
The  lyre,  or  the  clarion,  loud  echoes  shall  wake 

On  thy  favourite  hill,  or  in  Helicon's  grove ? .... 
Whence  forests  have  followed  the  wizard  of  Thrace, 
,    When  rivers  enraptured  suspended  their  race, 
When  the  ears  were  vouchsafed  to  the  obdurate  oak, 
And  the  blasts  of  mount  Hsemus  bowed  down  to  the  yoke 

Of  the  magical  minestrel,  grandson  of  Jore. 

First  to  Him  raise  the  song  !  whose  parental  control 
Men  and  gods  feel  alike  ;  whom  the  waves,  aa  they  roll — 

Whom  the  earth,  and  the  stars,  and  the  seasons  obey, 
Unapproaohed  in  his  godhead  j  majestic  alone, 
'Though  FaUas  may  stand  on  the  steps  of  his  throne. 


406  TATHEE  PEOFt's  EELIQUES. 

Though  huntress  Diana  may  challenge  a  shrine. 
And  worship  be  due  to  the'god  of  the  vine, 
And  to  archer  Apollo,  bright  giver  of  day ! 

Shall  we  next  sing  Alcides  ?  or  Leda's  twin-lights — 
Him  the  Horseman,  or  him  whom  the  Cestus  delights? 

Both  sliining  aloft,  by  the  seaman  adored ; 
(For  he  kens  that  their  rising  the  clouds  can  dispel. 
Bash  the  foam  from  the  rock,  and  the  hurricane  quell.)— 
Of  Bomulus  next  shall  the  claim  be  allowed  ? 
Of  Numa  the  peaceful  ?  of  Tarquin  the  proud  ? 

Of  Cato,  whose  fall  hath  ennobled  his  sword  ? 

Shall  Scaurus,  shall  Begulus  fruitlessly  crave 
Honour  due  ?  shall  the  Consul,  who  prodigal  gave 

His  life-blood  on  Cannse's  disastrous  plain  ? — 
CamiUus  ?  or  he  whom  a  king  could  not  tempt  ? 
Stem  Poverty's  children,  unfashioued,  unkempt. — 
The  fame  of  Marcellus  grows  yet  in  the  shade. 
But  the  meteor  of  Juhus  beams  over  his  head, 

Like  the  moon  that  outshines  all  the  stars  in  hertraial 

Great  Deity,  guardian  of  men !  rmto  whom 

We  commend,  in  Augustus,  the  fortunes  of  Borne, 

Eeisn  iob  ever  !  but  guard  his  subordinate  throne. 
Be  it  his— of  the  Parthian  each  inroad  to  check ; 
Of  the  Indian,  in  triumph,  to  trample  the  neck  j 
To  rule  all  the  nations  of  earth ; — be  it  Jove's 
To  exterminate  guilt  from  the  god's  hallowed  groves. 

Be  the  bolt  and  the  chariot  of  thunder  thine  own ! 

Next  comes  an  ode  in  imitation  of  Sappho.  Who  has  not 
read  that  wondrous  woman's  eloquent  outburst  of  ecstatic 
passion  ?  In  all  antiquity,  no  love-song  obtained  such  cele- 
brity as  that  which  has  come  down  to  us  in  the  form  of  a 
fragment ;  but  though  many  attempts  have  been  made  to 
divest  it  of  its  Grecian  envelope,  and  robe  it  in  modem 
costume,  I  am  sorry  for  the  sake  of  the  ladies  to  be  obliged 
to  say,  that  it  never  can  be  presented  in  any  other  shape 
than  what  it  wears  in  the  splendid  original.  That  is  the 
more  to  be  regretted,  as,  in  a  recent  volume  of  very  exqui- 
site poetry,  Letitia  Landon  has  devoted  six  glowing  pages* 
to  the  development  of  Sappho's  supposed  feelings.  If  kindred 
eloquence  could  be  taken  as  a  substitute,  and  if  the  deHcate 
instinct  of  a  lively  and  fervent  female  soul  may  be  ima- 

•  Pp.  115—121  of  the  Voto  cf  the  Peacock,  and  other  Poems,  ij 
L.  E.  L.    1  vol.  small  8vo.     Saunders  and  Ottley. 


THE    SONGS   or   HOKAOB.  407 

gined  fully  capable  of  catching  the  very  spirit  of  Greek  in- 
spiration, then  may  it  be  permitted  to  apply  the  words  of 
Horace  occurring  in  another  place : 

"  Spirat  adhuc  amor 
Vivimtque  commissi  oalores 
Leeiitia  fidibus  puellsD." — Lib.  iy.  ode  ix. 

But,  returning  to  the  ode  before  us,  it  is  not  my  province 
to  decide  whether  the  jealousy  which  our  poet  here  de- 
scribes was  really  felt,  or  only  aifected  for  poetic  purposes. 
!Prom  the  notorious  unsteadiness  of  his  attachments,  and  the 
multitudinous  list  of  his  Ipves,  including  in  the  catalogue 
Lalag^,  Griyeera,  Leuconog,  Nesera,  Cloris,  Pyrrha,  Nerine, 
Lyc^  Phidyl6,  Cynaris,  &c.  &c.  (by  the  way,  all  Greek  girls), 
I  should  greatly  doubt  the  sincerity  of  his  ardour  for  Lydia. 
It  is  only  necessary,  for  the  explanation  of  "  dente  labris 
notam,"  terminating  the  third  stanza,  in  reference  to  Itoman 
ideas  of  proper  behaviour  towards  the  ladies,  to  record  what 
Mora  says  of  her  friend  Pompey,  in  Plutarch's  life  of  that 
illustrious  general ; — Mvri/iiviuiiv  s-ijs  wgoj  tov  lIo/4/7riwv  o/jtiKias 
4)S  ou-y  riv  ixsiviii  euvava.'iroi.vBaiJjivriv,  AAHKTflS  awikhn.  Por 
the  right  understanding  of  that  singular  phrase  in  the  fourth 
stanza,  the  "  quintessence,"  or  fifth  part,  of  nectae,  be  it 
remembered  that  the  sweetness  of  the  celestial  beverage  so 
called  was  supposed  to  be  divided  into  ten  parts,  the  tenth 
or  tythe  whereof  constituted  what  men  call  honey  :  To  /itiXi, 
ti/varoi'  r))s  a/ijSgotf/as  insfo?,  quoth  Ibicus.  Prom  which  it  is 
as  plain  as  Cocker,  that  Love,  being  the  fifth  part,  or  J, 
gives  a  fractional  sweetness  of  much  higher  power  and 
intensity. 

Ode  XIII. — THE  poet's  jealottst. 

"  Quum  tu,  Lydia,  Telephi 
Cervioem  roseam,"  &c. 

Lydia,  when  you  tauntingly  Quum  tu,  Lydia,  Telephi 
Talk  of  Telephus,  praising  him  Cervioem  roseam, 

For  his  beauty,  yauntingly  Cerea  Telephi 

Far  beyond  me  raising  him,  Lauda8braohia,vEe!  meum 
His  rosy  neck,  and  arms  of  alabaster,  Fervens  diffioili 

My  rage  I  scarce  can  master !  Bile  tumer  jeour. 


408  TATHEH  PEOTJt'S   EELIQTJES. 

Pale  and  faint  with  dizziness,  Tunc  nee  mens  mihi,  neo 

All  my  features  presently  color 

Faint  my  soul's  uneasiness ;  Certa  sede  manet ; 

Tears,  big  tears,  incessantly  Humor  et  in  genas 
Steal  down  my  cheeks,  and  tell  in  what  fierce  Purtim  labitur,  arguens 

fashion  Quam  lentis  penitue 

My  bosom  bums  with  passion.  Hacerer  ignibus. 

'Sdeath  !  to  trace  the  evidence  TJror,  sen  tibi  candidos 

Of  your  gay  deoeitfulness,  Turpfirunt  humeros 

Mid  the  cup's  improvidence,  Immodiese  mero 

Mid  the  feast's  forgetfuLness,  Bixee  ;  sive  puer  furens 
To  trace,  where  lips  and  ivory  shoulders  pay      Impressit  memorem 

for  it,  Dente  labrif  notam. 
The  kiss  of  your  young  favourite ! 

Seem  not  vainly  credulous,  Non,  si  me  satis  audiae. 

Such  wild  transports  durable,  Speres  perpetuum 

Or  that  fond  and  sedulous  Dulcia  barbar^ 

Love  is  thus  procurable :  Lsedentem    oscula,    qua 
Though  Venus  drench  the  kiss  with  her  quiu-  Venus 

tessence,  Q.aintl  parte  sui 

Its  nectar  Time  soon  lessens.  Neotaris  imbuit. 

But  where  meet  (tlirice  fortimate !)  Pehees  ter,  et  amplius, 

Kindred  hearts  and  suitable,  Quos  irrupta  tenet 

Strife  comes  ne'er  importunate.  Copula ;  nee  mails 

Love  remains  immutable  ;  Divulsus  querimoniis 

On  to  the  close  they  glide,  mid  scenes  Elysian,      SupremS  citius 

Through  life's  deUghlful  vision  !  Solvet  Amor  die  ! 

Quinctilian  (lib.  viii.  6)  gives  the  following  address  to 
the  vessel  of  the  state  as  a  specimen  of  well- sustained  alle- 
gory. It  appears  to  have  been  written  at  the  outbreak  of 
the  civil  war  between  Octavius  and  Marc  Antony,  and  of 
course,  as  all  such  compositions  ought  to  do,  explains  itself. 
There  is,  however,  a  naval  manoeuvre  hinted  at  in  st.  ii.  ad- 
mirably illustrative  of  a  passage  in  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles 
(cap.  xxvii.  v.  17),  where  the  mariners  are  described  by 
St.  Luke  as  "  underyirdiyig  the  ship"  that  carried  Paul. 
EiOpes,  it  appears,  were  let  down,  and  drawn  under  the  keel 
of  the  vessel  to  keep  aU  tight :  this  is  what  Horace  indi- 
cates by  sine  furdbus  carina.  I  recommend  the  point  to 
Captain  Marryat,  should  he  make  St.  Paul's  shipwreck  on 
the  isle  of  Malta  the  subject  of  his  next  nautico-historical 
novel. 


THE   SOKOS   OF  HOEACE. 


409 


ObB  XIV. — TO  THE  TESSEL  OF  THE  STATE.     AK  ALLEGOBT. 


AS  bempttblidam:. 


What  fresh  perdition  urges, 
Galley  !  thy  darksome  track, 

Once  more  upon  the  surges  ? 
Hie  to  the  haven  back  ! 

Doth  not  the  lightning  show  thee 

Thou  hast  got  none  to  row  thee  ? 

Is  not  thy  mainmast  shattered  P 
Hath  not  the  boisterous  south 

Thy  yards  and  rigging  scattered  ? 
In  dishabille  uncouth, 

How  canst  thou  hope  to  weather 

The  storms  that  round  thee  gather  p 

Ilent  are  the  sails  that  deck'd  thee ; 

Deaf  are  thy  gods  become. 
Though  summoned  to  protect  thee. 

Though  sued  to  save  thee  from 
The  fate  thou  most  abhorrest. 
Proud  daughter  of  the  forest ! 

Thy  vanity  would  vaunt  us. 
Ton  riohly  pictured  poop 

Pine-timbers  from  the  Pontus  ; 
Pear  lest,  in  one  fell  swoop, 

Paint,  pride,  and  pine-trees  hollow, 

The  scoffing  whirlpool  swallow ! 

Pve  watched  thee,  sad  and  pensive, 
Source  of  my  recent  cares  ! 

Oh,  wisely  apprehensive. 
Venture  not  unawares 

Where  Greece  spreads  out  her  seas. 

Begemmed  with  Cyclades ! 


O  navis,  referent 
In  mare  te  novi 
Fluctus  ?     0  quid  agis  f 
Fortiter  occupa 
Portum.    Nonne  videa  ut 
Nudum  remigio  latus 

Et  malus  celeri 
Saucius  Afi-ico 
Antennseque  gemant, 
Ac  sine  f  unibus 
Tix  durare  caringe 
Fossint  imperiosius 

^quor  p    Non  tibi  sunt 
Integra  lintea, 
Non  Di  quos  iterum 
Pressa  voces  malo ; 
Quamvis  Pontica  pinus, 
Silvse  filia  nobilis, 

Jactes  et  genus  et 
Nomen  inutUe. 
Nil  pictis  timidus 
Navita  pvippibus 
Fidit.     Tu,  nisi  ventia 
Debes  ludibrium,  cave. 

Nuper  soUioitum 
Quse  mihi  tsedium. 
Nunc  desiderium, 
Curaque  non  levis 
Interfusa  uitentes 
Vites  sequora  Cycladas. 


The  same  "inter^t  de  eireonstance"  which  may  have  given 
piquancy  to  the  allegory,  possibly  attached  itself  also  to  the 
following  spirited  lines.  Antony  and  Cleopatra  must  have 
looked  on  the  allusion  to  Paris  and  Helen  as  libellous  in 
the  extreme.  Considered  merely  in  the  light  of  a  political 
squib,  the  ode  is  capital ;  but  it  has  higher  merit  as  a 
finished  lyric ;  and  Tom  Campbell  evidently  found  it  in  the 
form  as  well  as  substance  of  his  popular  and  spirited  effu- 


eion: 


"Lochiel!  Lochiel!  beware  of  the  day 
When  the  Lowlands  shall  meet  thee  in  battle-array." 


410  FATHEE  PEOTTT'S  EELIQTJES. 

Ode  XV. — the  sea-god's  WAEirafG  to  paeis. 
"  Pastor  cum  traheret,"  &e. 

As  the  Shepherd  of  Troy,  wafting  over  the  deep 

Sad  Perfidy's  freightage,  bore  Helen  along. 
Old  N ereus  uprose,  hushed  the  breezes  to  sleep, 

And  the  secrets  of  doom  thus  reyealed  in  his  song. 

Ah !  homeward  thou  bringest,  with  omen  of  dread, 

One  whom  Greece  will  reclaim  ! — for  her  millions  have  sworn 

Not  to  rest  tiU  they  tear  the  false  bride  from  thy  bed. 
Or  till  Priam's  old  throne  their  revenge  overturn. 

See  the  struggle !  how  foam  covers  horsemen  and  steeds ! 

See  thy  lUon  consigned  to  the  bloodiest  of  sieges  ! 
Mark,  arrayed  in  her  helmet,  Minerva,  who  speeds 

To  prepare  for  the  battle  her  car  and  her  segis  ! 

Too  fondly  thou  deemest  that  Venus  will  vouch 

For  a  life  which  thou  spendest  in  trimming  thy  curls. 

Or,  in  tuning,  reclined  on  an  indolent  couch, 
An  effeminate  lyre  to  an  audience  of  girls. 

Though  awhile  in  voluptuous  pastimt}  employed, 

Far  away  from  the  contest,  the  truant  of  lust 
May  baffle  the  bowmen,  and  Ajax  avoid. 

Thy  adulterous  ringlets  are  doomed  to  the  dust ! 

See'st  thou  him  of  Ithaca,  scourge  of  thy  race  ? 

Gallant  Teucer  of  Salamis  ?  Nestor  the  wise  ? 
How,  urging  his  oar  on  thy  cowardly  trace. 

Swift  Sthenelus  poises  his  lasce  as  he  flies  P 

Swift  Sthenelus,  Diomed's  brave  charioteer. 
Accomplished  in  combat  like  Merion  the  Cretan, 

Fierce,  towering  aloft  see  his  master  appear. 

Of  a  breed  that  in  battle  has  never  beoii  beaten. 

Whom  thou,  Uke  a  fawn,  when  a  wolf  in  the  valley 

The  deHcate  pasture  compels  him  to  leave. 
Wilt  fly,  faint  and  breathless — though  flight  may  not  tally 

With  aU  thy  beloved  heard  thee  boast  to  achieve. 

Acliilles,  retired  in  his  angry  pavilion. 

Shall  cause  a  short  respite  to  Troy  and  her  games ; 

Yet  a  few  winters  more,  and  the  turrets  of  Iliou 
Must  sink  nfid  the  roar  of  retributive  flames  ! 

Horace  first  burst  on  the  town  as  a  satirist,  and  more 


THE    SOIIfGS   or  HOfiAOE. 


4H 


than  one  fair  dame  must  have  had  cause,  like  Tyndaria,  to 
fall  out  with  him.  There  is  a  graceful  mixture  of  playful- 
ness and  remonstrance  in  the  following  amende  honorable,  in 
which  he  dwells  on  the  unseemly  appearance  of  resentment 
and  anger  in  the  features  of  "beauty.  With  reference  to 
Stanza  V.,  it  would  appear  that  the  tragedy  of  Thyestes,  by 
Varus,  was  at  that  moment  in  a  successful  run  on  the  Bo- 
man  boards. 


Ode  XVI. — the    SATIEIST'S   EECAlfTATIOH-. 
PALINOBIA  AD  TTirDAEIDEM. 


Slest  with  a  charming  mother,  yet, 
Thou  Btill  more  fascinatiag  daugh- 
ter! 
Piythee  my  vile  lampoons  forget — 
Give  to  the  flames  the  hbel — let 
The  satire  sink  in  Adria's  water ! 

Not  Cybele's  most  solemn  rites. 
Cymbals  of  brass  and  spells  of 
magic; 

Apollo's  priest,  'mid  Delphic  flights; 

Or  Bacchanal,  'mid  fierce  deUghts, 
Presents  a  scene  more  tragic 

Than  Anger,  when  it  rules  the  soul. 
Nor  fire  nor  sword  can  then  sur- 
mount her, 
Nor  the  vex'd  elements  control, 
Though  JoTe  himself,  from  pole  to 
pole, 
Thundering  rush  down  to  the  en- 
comiter. 

Prometheus — forced  to  graft,  of  old, 

Upon  our  stock  a  foreign  scion, 
Mix' d  up — if  we  be  truly  told — 
With   some    brute    particles,   our 
mould — 
Anger  he  gathered  from  the  lion. 

Anger  destroyed  Thyestes'  race, 
O'erwhelmed  his  house  in  ruin 
thorough, 
And  many  a  lofty  city's  trace 
Caused  a  proud  foeman  to  efface, 
Ploughing  the  site  with  hostile 
furrow. 


O  !  matre  pidchrSl  filia  pulchrior, 
Quern  criminosis 
Cuuque  voles  modum 
Pones  iambis  ;  sive  flamma, 
Sive  mari  libet  Hadriano. 

Non  Dindymene,  non  adytis  quatit 
Mentem  sacerdotum 
Incola  Pythius, 
Non  Liber  seque,  non  acuta 
Sic  geminant  Corybantes  sera. 

Tristes  utirse:  quas  neque  Noricus 
Deterret  ensis. 
Nee  mare  naufragum. 
Nee  ssevus  ignis,  nee  tremendo 
Jupiter  ipse  ruens  tumultu. 


Pertur  Prometheus  addere  principi 
Xiimo  coactus 
Particulam  undique 
Desectam,  et  insani  leonis 
Yim     stomacho     apposuisse 
nostro. 

Irse  Thyesten  esdtio  gravi 
Stravere,  et  altis 
Urbibus  ultimte 
Stetere  causae  cur  perirent 
Funditus,  imprimeretque  mu- 
ris 


412 


FATHER   PKOrT'S   EELIQTTES. 


Oh,  be  appeased !  'twas  rage,  in  sooth, 

First  wote  my  song's  satiric  tenor; 
In  wild  and  unreflecting  youth, 
Anger  inspired  the  deed  uncouth ; 

But,  pardon  that  foul  misdemean- 
our. 

Lady !  I  swear — my  recreant  lays 

Henceforth  to  rectify  and  alter — 
To  change  my  tones  from  blame  to 

praise, 
Should  your  rekindling  friendship 
raise 
The  spirits  of  a  sad  defaulter ! 

Here  follows  a  billet-doux,  conveying  to  the  same  offended 
lady  (whose  wrath  we  must  suppose  to  have  vanished  on 
perusal  of  the  foregoing)  a  gallant  invitation  to  the  rural 
mansion  of  our  author.  To  perceive  the  difference  between 
a  bond  fide  invite  and  a  mere  moonshine  proposal,  it  is  only 
necessary  to  collate  this  with  Tom  Moore's 

"  Will  you  come  to  the  bower  I  have  shaded  for  you  ? 
Our  bed  shall  be  roses  all  spangled  with  dew !" 


Hostile  aratrum  exercitus  insolens, 
Compesce  mentem ; 
Me  quoque  pectoris 
Tentavit  in  duloi  juvent^, 
Fervor,  et  in  celeres  iambos 

Misit  furentem  :  nunc  ego  mitibiu 
Mutare  qusero  tristia 
Dum  mihi 
Fias  recantatis  arnica 

Opprobriis,  auimumque  rcd- 
das. 


Ode.  XVII. — an  invitation  to  hoeace's  tiila. 


AD  TTNDAEIBEM. 


Oft  for  the  hill  where  ranges 

My  Sabine  flock, 
Swift-footed  Faun  exchanges 
Arcadia's  rock. 
And,  tempering  summer's  ray,  forbids 
Untoward  rain  to  harm  my  kids. 

And  there  in  happy  vagrance, 

Boams  the  slie-goat, 
Lured  by  marital  fragrance. 
Through  dells  remote ; 
Of  each  wild  herb  and  shrub  partakes. 
Nor  fears  the  coil  of  lurking  snakes. 

No  prowling  wolves  alarm  her ; 

Safe  from  their  gripe 
While  Faun,  immortal  charmer ! 
Attunes  his  pipe. 
And  down  the  vale  and  o'er  the  hills 
Vstica's  every  echo  fills. 


Velox  amoenum 
Ssepe  LucretUem 
Mutat  LycsBO 
Faun  us,  et  igneam 
Defendit  sestatem  capellis 
Usque  meis  pulviosque  ventOB. 

Impune  tutum 
Per  nemus  arbutoB 
Quserunt  latentes 
Et  thyma  devise 
Olentis  uxores  mariti : 
Neo  virides  metuunt  colubras, 

Nee  martiales 
HsedulecB  lupos ; 
Utcunque  dulci, 
Tyndari,  fistula 
Valles,  et  Usticje  cubantis 
Levia  persouuere  saxa. 


THB    SONGS   01'   HOEAOE. 


413 


The  Gods,  their  bard  caressing, 

With  kindness  treat : 
They're  fill'd  my  house  with  blessing- 
My  country-seat, 
Where  Plenty  voids  her  loaded  horn, 
Pair  Tyndaris,  pray  come  adorn ! 

From  Sirius  in  the  zenith, 
From  summer's  glare, 
Come,  where  the  valley  screeneth. 
Come,  warble  there 
Songs  of  the  hero,  for  whose  love 
Penelope  and  Ciroe  strove. 

Nor  shall  the  cup  be  wanting. 

So  harmless  then, 
To  grace  that  hour  enchanting 
In  shady  glen. 
Nor  shaU  the  juice  our  calm  disturb. 
Nor  aught  our  sweet  emotions  curb  ? 


Fear  not,  my  fair  one  1   Cyrus 

Shall  not  intrude. 
Nor  worry  thee  desirous 
Of  sohtude. 
Nor  rend  thy  innocent  robe,  nor  tear 
The  garland  from  thy  flowing  hair. 


Di  me  tuentur ; 
Dis  pietas  mea 
£t  musa  cordi  est. 
Hie  tibi  copia 
Manabit  ad  plenum  benigno 
Kuris  honorum  opuleutacomn. 

Hie  in  reducti 
Valle  caniculce 
Vitabis  sestus, 
Et  fide  Tern 
Dices  laborautes  in  uno 
Penelopeu  vitreamque  Circen. 

Hie  innoceutis 
Pocula  Lesbii 
Duces  sub  umbrA 
Nee  Semeleius 
OnmMarte  oonfundet  Thyoneu» 
Proelia;    neo  metues  proter- 
Torn 

Suspecta  Cyrum 
Ne  male  dispari 
Incontinentes 
Injiciat  manus, 
Et  soindat  hsorentem  coronam. 
Crinibus,  immeritamque  vet- 
tem. 


Ode  XVIII. 

Thia  drinking  song  is  a  manifest  translation  from  the 
Gh-eek  of  Alca3US.  To  the  concluding  words,  " perlucidwr 
vitro,"  I  have  ventured  to  attach  a  meaning  which  the  recent 
discoveries  at  Pompeii,  of  drinking  utensils  made  of  a  kind 
of  silicious  material,  would  seem  fully  to  justify. 

"Nullam,  Tare,  sacra  vite  prius  severis  arborem,"  &c. 

MrjOtv  aWo  ipvTtvays  vporipov  SevSpov  aitirtXtj)  k.  r.  \. 

AiciEUS  apud  Athen^um. 

Nullam,  Vare,  sacre  vite  prius  severis  arborem 
Circa  mite  solum  Tiburis,  et  moenia  CatUi : 
Siecis  omnia  nam  dura  Deus  proposuit ;  neque 
Mordaoos  aliter  diffugiuut  soUicitudines. 
Q.uis  post  vina  gravem  militiam  aut  pauperiem  orepat  ? 
Quia  non  te  potius,  Bacche  pater,  teque,  decens  Venus  ? 
At  ne  quis  modici  transiliat  munera  I.iberi, 
Centaai-ea  monet  cum  Lapithis  risa  super  mero 


414  PATHEE  PEOUT'S   EELIQUES. 

Debellata ;  monefc  Sithoniis  nou  levis  Bvius, 
Quum  fas  atque  uefas  exiguo  fine  libidinum 
Discernunt  avidi.    Nou  ego  te,  candide  Baseareu, 
InTitum  quatiam ;  nee  variia  obsita  frondibus 

Sub  divum  rapiam.     Ssera  tene  cum  Beret^tbio 
Cornu  tympana,  quse  subsequitur  esecus  amor  sua, 
Et  tollena  vacuum  plus  nimio  gloria  verticem, 
Arcanique  fides  prodiga,  perlucidior  vitro. 

Since  at  Tivoli,  Varus,  you've  fixed  upon  planting 

Bound  your  villa  enchanting, 
Of  all  trees,  0  my  friend !  let  tlie  Vine  be  the  first. 

On  no  other  condition  will  Jove  lend  assistance 

To  keep  at  a  distance 
Chagrin,  and  the  cares  that  accompany  thirst. 

No  one  talks  after  wine  about  "  battles"  or  "  &mine  j" 

But,  if  you  examine, 
The  praises  of  love  and  good  living  are  rife. 

Though  once  the  Centaurs,  'mid potations  too  ample, 

Left  a  tragic  example 
Of  a  banquet  dishonoured  by  bloodshed  and  strife, 

Far  removed  be  such  doings  from  us !    Let  the  Thracians, 

Amid  their  libations. 
Confound  all  the  limits  of  right  and  of  wrong ; 

I  never  will  join  in  their  orgies  unholy — 

I  never  will  sully 
The  rites  that  to  ivy-crowned  Bacchus  belong. 

Let  Cybfile  silence  her  priesthood,  and  calm  her 

Brass  cymbals  and  clamour  j 
Away  with  such  outbursts,  uproarious  and  vain ! 

Displays  often  followed  by  Insolence  mulish, 

And  Confidence  foolish, 
To  be  seen  through  and  through,  like  this  glass  that  I  drain. 

In  the  first  decade  of  Horatian  songs,  it  became  my  duty 
to  supply  in  the  original  Latin,  from  the  Vatican  Codex,  a 
long-lost  effusion  of  the  Sabine  farmer,  commencing  "  Virent 
arundines  ;"  or,  as  the  Scotch  have  it,  "  Green  grow  the  rashes, 
O  !"  I  am  equally  happy  to  be  enabled,  owing  to  the  late 
Sir  Humphry  Davy's  experiments  on  the  calcined  volumes 
found  at  Herculaneum,  to  supply,  in  concluding  this  second 
essay,  another  lost  ode  of  Horace,  which  has  been  imitated 


THE   SONGS    OP   HOEACE. 


415 


botli  in  Prench  and  English  (unconsciously,  no  doubt)  by 
two  modem  versemongers. 

Ode  XIX. 


La  Ghutb  d'Ehma. 

Ah  1  mandite  soit  Vheurd^ 
Quaud  de  rhiirable  demeuie 
D'Emma,  le  faux  seigneur 

eut  franchl  le  souil, 
Pauvre  fille !  la  lune 
Pleura  ton  infortune, 
Et  couvrit  son  visage 

en  eigne  de  deuil. 

BieutAt  la  lane  ^tale 
Sa  clart4  de  Vestale, 
Et  de  son  chaste  front 

les  nuages  s'en  voist. — 
Mais  la  tache  qui  veste 
De  cette  tiuit  funeste^ 
Qui  pourra  I'effacer  ? 

ou  r^parer  Taffront  ? 

La  neige  virginale 
Couvrait  tout  L'interralle 
Du  superbe  manoir 

au  modeste  r^duit ; 
Et  la  blanche  surface 
Garda  plus  d'une  trace 
Des  pas  du  faux  seigneur 

cette  fatale  nuit. 

Un  rayon  du  soleil, 
A  son  premier  r^veil, 
EfFaca  pour  toujours 

les  vestiges  du  paijure  j 
Mais,  Emma  I  il  te  faut 
La  lumi^re  d'en  haut. 
Qui  verse  un  doux  oubli 

sar  ta  mfisaveuture ! 


Eveline's  Fall. 

Ah/  weep  for  the  hour, 
When  to  Evelin^B  bower, 
The  lord  of  the  valley 
With  false  vows  came. 
The  moon  hid  Tier  light 
In  the  heavens  that  night, 
And  wept  behind  Tier  clouds 
For  the  maiden's  shaine. 


Lapsus  Emals. 

Heu  lachrymor  horam 
Cum,  fraudibus  malis, 
Dux  virgine  corhm 
Apparuit  vallis. 
Won  tulit  impunfe 
Congressum  misella,,.. 
Cor  doluit  Lunse 
Prolapsapuellal 


The  clouds  pass  soon  QuEe  condidit  froutem 

From  the  cold  chaste  moon,  Sub  nubiiim  velo, 

And  the  hf.aven  smiled  again  Mox  vultum  insontem 

With  her  vestal  Jlame  ;  Explicuit  coelo. 

But  vjho  shall  see  the  dag  Sed  utinam  casti 

Wke/i  the  cloud  will  pass  awag  Sic  nominis  gemma. 

Which  that  evening  left  Quam  tu  inquinaBti, 

Upon  Eveline's  namef  Claresceret^Emma  i 

The  white  snow'lap  Tegebant  rus  nives. 

On  tJie  narrow  pathway,  Cum  meditans  crimen, 

Where  the  lord  of  the  manor  Pedem  tulit  dives 

Grossed  over  the  moor  ;  Ad  pauperis  limen. 

And  -many  a  deep  print,  Et  ager  est  fassus, 

On  the  white  snow^s  tint,  Vel  indice  calle, 
Shewedthetrackofhisfootst^s  Quft.  tulerat  passus 

To  Eveline's  door.  In  candid^  valle. 


The  first  sun's  ray 
Soon  melted  away 
Every  trace  of  the  passage 
Where  the  false  lord  came  / 
But  there's  a  light  abmie, 
Which  alone  can  rernove 
The  stain  upon  the  snow 
0/  Evelinas  fame  / 


Exoriens  mane 
Sol  uti  consuevit 
Vestigia  plan6 
Nivemque  delevit ; 
Puella !  par  lumen 
Quod  eanet  remorsuiOy 
Misericors  Numen 
Det  tibi  deorsiimt 


THE  sojsras  of  hoeace. 


DECADE   THE   THIED. 
"  Tu  Latium  beas  Horati 


Alcseo  potior  lyriBtes  ipso." — Sidok.  Apollin.,  Ep.  Tiii, 

"  Le  seul  Horace  en  tons  genres  excelle — 
De  Citharee  exalte  lea  fareurs, 
Chante  lea  dieuz,  les  heros,  les  buTeurs ; 


416  FATHEB  PEOTJT's   EELIQTTES. 

Des  sots  auteurs  heme  les  vers  ineptes, 
Nous  instruisant  par  gracieux  preceptes, 
Et  par  sermons,  de  joie  antidotes." — J.  B.  EouS8BAtr, 

Horace,  in  one  small  volume,  shows  us  what  it  is 

To  blend  together  every  kind  of  talent ; — 
'Tis  a  bazaar  for  all  sorts  of  commodities, 

To  suit  the  grave,  the  sad,  the  grave,  the  gallant : 
He  deals  in  songs  and  "  sermons,"  whims  and  oddities. 

By  tui-ns  is  philosophic  and  pot-valiant. 
And  not  uctrequently  with  sarcasm  slaughters 
^e  vulgar  insolence  of  coxcomb  authors. — 0.  T. 

The  "  diffusion"  of  knowledge  is,  we  suspect,  someliow  ir- 
reconcileable  with  its  condensation ;  at  least,  we  see  no  other 
way  of  explaining  the  notorious  fact,  that  one  old  standard 
author  contains  (either  in  the  germ  or  in  full  development) 
more  ideas  than  a  whole  modern  "  Cyclopaedia ;"  nimish- 
ing  more  materials  for  thought  and  feeling  than  are 
now  accumulated  during  a  whole  Olympiad  in  the  ware- 
houses of  Paternoster  Row.  It  is  for  this  reason  that  we 
gladly  revert  with  Prout  to  the  small  Elzevir  which,  towards 
the  close  of  his  earthly  career,  formed  the  subject  of  his 
vesper  meditations,  and  cheerfully  accompany  him  through 
another  "  decade"  of  his  classic  rosary. 

We  knov/  not  how  it  will  be  with  us  next  month,  or 
whether  we  shall  be  tempted  to  take  up  a  newspaper  after 
the  fatal  ides  of  September  1836. 

The  removal  of  the  stamp-diity  on  the  15th,  bids  fair  to 
open  the  floodgates  of  "  diffusion,"  so  as  to  swamp  us  alto- 
gether. Then  wiH  begin  the  grand  millenium  of  cheap 
knowledge  ;  from  that  auspicious  day  will  be  dated  the 
hegira  of  Hetherington.  The  conquest  of  China  by  the 
Tartars  wiU  find  its  parallel  in  the  simultaneous  rush  of 
writers  over  the  great  wall,  which  the  sober  wisdom  of 
former  reigns  had  erected  to  restrain  such-like  inroads  of 
Calmuc  vagrancy.  The  breaking  down  of  the  dykes  of 
Holland,  and  the  letting  in  of  the  Zuydersee,  is  to  be  re- 
hearsed in  the  domains  of  literature.  The  Dutchmen  were 
drowned  by  a  rat — we  are  to  be  inundated  by  Eice.*  Soap, 
it  is  true,  will  continue  to  be    as  dear  as  ever,  but  the 

•  The  Eight  Hon.  Spring  K..,  chancellor  of  the  Exchequer,  1836. 


THE   SON&S   or   HOEAOE.  417 

"waters  of  instruction"  are  to  be  plentifully  supplied  to 
the  unwashed. 

"  Venit  vilissima  rerum 
Hie  aqua." — Iter  Brundia. 

One  cannot  help  imagining,  that  a  concomitant  reduction 
on  the  former  most  useful  article  would  prove  as  beneficial 
to  the  Radicals  as  the  cheapening  of  brimstone  (for  example) 
would  be  to  the  writers  and  readers  of  the  Caledonian  Mer- 
cury ;  but  the  Whigs,  probably,  wish  to  monopolise  yet 
awhile  the  staple  manufacture  of  Windsor,  for  the  exclusive 
purpose  of  blowing  bubbles  to  delude  the  rabble.  We  ob- 
serve, by  a  recently  discovered  process,  thai  flints  have  been 
found  less  hard-hearted  than  the  Chancellor,  and  actually 
yield  soap  from  silica. 

To  the  press,  as  hitherto  constituted,  we  acknowledge 
ourselves  exceedingly  indebted.  On  a  late  occasion,*  the 
unanimous  expression  of  cordial  sympathy  which  burst  from 
every  organ  of  public  opinion,  in  reprobation  of  a  brutal 
assault,  has  been  to  us  consolatory  and  gratifying.  We 
shall  hazard  the  charge  of  vanity,  perhaps,  but  we  cannot 
help  replying  to  such  testimonies  of  fellow-feeling  to- 
wards ourselves  in  the  language  of  a  gifted  Roman : — 
"Est  mihi  jucunda  in  malis,  et  grata  in  dolore,  vestra  erga  me 
voluntas  ;  sed  curam  de  me  queeso  deponite."  {Catilinar.  iv.) 
The  interests  of  literature  are  stiU  uppermost  in  our 
thoughts,  and  take  precedency  of  any  selfish  considerations. 
We  vsdll  be  ever  found  at  our  post,  intrepidly  denouncing 
the  vulgar  arrogance  of  booby  scribblers,  unsparingly  censur- 
,ing  the  obtrusion  into  literary  circles  of  silly  pretenders 
ignorant  horse-jockies,  and  brainless  bullies. 

We  took  up  a  number  of  the  "  Carlton  Chronicle  "  for  last 
month,  in  which  we  read  with  some  astonishment  the  asser- 
tion that  Marc  Antony  "  was  justified  "  in  causing  M.  T. 
Cicero  to  be  waylaid  and  butchered  in  cold  blood,  as  some 
atonement  for  his  "  wounded-  feelings"  on  reading  that 
glorious  oration  called  the  SECOifD  Philippic.  The  Carlton 
Chronicle  is  conducted  by  a  young  barrister  of  eminent  at- 
tainments, and  we  therefore  experience  some  surprise  at  the 
views  of  Roman  law,  or  the  laws  of  civUized  society  (as 

*  The  brutal  assault  of  Grantley  Berkeley  on  the  pubUsher  Fraser. 

E  E 


418  FATHEE  PEOra?'s   EELIQTJES. 

contradistinguislied.  from  the  laws  of  "  Ltnch,"  the  Ameri- 
can Lycurgus)  put  forth  in  this  startling  announcement. 
Our  illustrious  namesake,  Oliver,  was  not  very  scrupulous 
in  his  respect  for  the  "  baubles  "  of  legal  arrangement ;  yet 
even  he  took  alarm  at  the  title  of  a  pamphlet,  called,  "  Kill- 
ing no  Murder."  "We  are  not  exactly  members  of  the  Inner 
Temple,  but  we  beg  to  question  the  propriety  of  the  above 
decision,  which  we  cannot  otherwise  qualify  than  as 

"  A  sentiment  exceedingly  atrocious, 
Not  to  be  found  (we  trust)  in  Puffendorff  or  Grotius.'' 

"We  rejoice,  however,  at  the  iatroduction  of  Tully's  immor- 
tal speech,  and  are  thankful  for  being  thus  reminded  of  a 
classic  precedent  for  intrepidly  exposing  to  the  scorn  of  all 
rightly  thinking  men  those  blunders  and  follies  which  force 
themselves  into  public  notice,  and,  baboon-like,  exhibit  their 
shameful  side  by  a  false  position  of  their  own  choosing. 

Cicero  had  to  reply  to  an  elaborate  composition  of  his 
stupid  adversary,  published  by  Marc  Antony  himself,  at  his 
own  expense,  at  the  bookshop  of  the  Eoman  Bentley  of  the 
day  ;  need  we  add,  miserably  deficient  iu  literary  value,  and 
rich  only  in  absurdities — "  hoc  ut  colligeres  homo  amentissime 
tot  dies  in  aliend  villd  scriptitasti  ?"  (Philip.  tH)  In  that  pro- 
duction the  booby  had  touched  upon  points  which  he  should 
have  been,  of  all  other  men,  careful  to  avoid.  Mark,  we 
pray  you,  gentle  reader,  the  words  of  Tully :  "  Maximi  miror 
mentionem  te  hcBreditatum  ausum  essefacere  cum  ipse  hceredi- 
tatem  patris  non  adisses." — It.  ibidem.* 

"We  need  not  point  out  the  passage,  of  which  this  is  the 
exact  prototype  ;  neither  is  it  necessary  to  indicate  where 
may  be  found  a  fae-simUe  for  the  subsequent  exclamation  of 
the  indignant  orator — "  O  miserie  mulieris  facunditatem  ca- 
lamitosam  !"  (it.  ibidem) ;  nor  the  allusion  contained  in  the 
words  by  which  he  reproaches  his  opponent  for  the  con- 
firmed stupidity  evinced  in  his  literary  production,  albeit  he 
had  enjoyed  certain  advantages  of  family  wit — "  aliquid  enim 
salis  ab  uxore  mimd  trahere  potuisti "  (it.  ibid.}.  The  follow- 
ing picture  of  his  adversary's  personal  appearance,  and  the 

*  This  refers  to  the  lawsuits  of  the  Berkeley  family. 


THE    SONGS    OP  HOEACB.  419 

admission  of  Ms  signal  accomplishments  in  aU  tte  graces  of 
a  prize-fighter,  ought  not  to  be  forgotten  : 

"  Tu  istis  fauoibus,  istis  lateribus,  istS,  gladiatoriH  totius 
corporis  firmitate." — It.  ibidem. 

"We  recommend  the  whole  discourse  (beyond  comparison  the 
first  model  of  classic  eloquence  ia  existence,  and  the  most 
powerful  expose  that  folly  and  brutality  ever  received)  to  the 
attentive  meditation  of  those  concerned. 

"  Nullo  luet  hoc  AntoniuB  sevo !" 

In  the  course  of  Prout's  youthful  rambles  through  Italy, 
we  find  tha,t  he  has  recorded  the  circumstances  of  a  devout 
pilgrimage,  undertaken  by  him,  to  the  very  spot  where  the 
illustrious  orator — the  terror  of  aU  Eoman  ruffians,  from 
Clodius  to  Catiline,  from  Antony  to  Verres — was  cowardly 
assassinated  by  the  hero  of  the  Second  Philippic*  It  is  a 
green  lane,  leadihg  off  the  via  Appia  down  to  the  shores  of 
the  Mediterranean ;  and  close  by  the  scene  of  the  disgrace- 
ful event  stands  to  the  present  day,  on  the  ruins  of  the  Wor- 
mian vOla  which  had  belonged  to  the  murdered  statesman, 
an  hotel,  known  by  the  classic  designation  of  "  Albergo  di 
Cicerone."  The  details  of  that  visit,  with  sundry  delectable 
matters  appertaining  thereunto,  remain  in  our  "  chest "  for 
further  use,  when  we  shaU.  have  to  entertain  our  readers 
with  other  (and  collateral)  subjects ;  when  from  Horace  we 
shall  pass  to  some  of  his  contemporaries. 

To  Horace  we  now  return.  In  him  the  dunces  and 
buUies  of  Home  found  an  uncompromising  foe — equally  for- 
midable to  "  Msevius  the  blockhead "  and  to  "  Grorgonius 
the  he-goat,"  to  "  the  debauchee  Nomentanus,"  and  to 
"  Pantolabus  the  buffoon."  It  is,  however,  as  a  lyric  poet 
that  Prout  chooses  to  dweU.  on  his  merits ;  and  in  this,  as 
in  most  matters,  we  recognise  the  professional  tendency  of 
the  father  to  peaceful  topics  and  iaoffensive  disquisitions. 

OLIVEE  TOEKE. 

*  Who  appears  to  have  been  in  his  day  the  "  lady's  man " — xar' 
i^oxriv.  We  know  not,  however,  whether  he  was  fool  enough  to  talk  of 
bringing  the  matrons  of  Eome  into  the  senate-house,  like  Gbantlcy 
Berkeley. 

£  2 


420  JATHEB  PEOUT'S  EELIQUER. 


Watergrasahill,  ad  V"  noctii  vigiliam, 

"When  first  I  took  up  the  Songs  of  Horace,  with  a  view  to 
record  my  imaginings  thereanent  (for  the  benefit  of  my-  pa- 
rishioners), it  occurred  to  me  that  something  in  the  shape 
of  methodical  arrangement  would  not  be  amiss,  and  that 
these  miscellaneous  odes  would  come  more  acceptable  if  an 
attempt  were  made  at  classification.  In  this  department, 
the  moderns  have  a  decided  advantage  over  the  writers  of 
antiquity  ;  the  bump  of  "  order,"  as  it  relates  to  section  and 
subdivision,  being  of  comparatively  late  developement. 
Pagan  antiquity  had  been  content,  ever  since  the  goddess 
Plora  enamelled  the  earth  with  so  many  charming  varieties 
of  form  and  colour,  to  admire  them  for  their  very  confusion, 
and  to  revel  in  the  delightful  contrasts  they  afforded ;  nor 
do  we  learn,  from  the  author  of  Q-enesis,  that  there  was  any 
regular  system  of  botanical  science  understood  by  Eve,  in 
her  state  of  horticultural  innocence :  it  was  reserved  for  the 
great  Dutchman,  Linnaeus,  to  methodise  the  beauty  and  to 
classify  the  fragrance  of  flowers.  My  old  friend  and  school- 
fellow, I'Abb^  Moutardier,  who,  since  the  French  emigra- 
tion, resides  at  Lulworth  Castle,  Dorsetshire  (where  the 
Weld  family  have  gathered  round  him  a  small  congre- 
gation), carries  the  practice  of  regular  classification  to  a 
great  extent  in  his  Anglo- Gallic  addresses  from  the  modest 
pulpit  of  the  castle-chapel ;  ex.  gr.  "  My  frinds,  the  sermong 
of  twoday  vill  be  in  four  pints  ;  after  vich,  I  vill  draw  for 
you  a  little  mor-ale,"  &c.  In  pursuance  of  this  praiseworthy 
system  of  orderly  arrangement,  I  had  set  out  by  dividing 
these  songs  under  six  comprehensive  heads:  1°  poUticalsquibs; 
2"  convivial  and  bacchanalian ;  3°  love  songs  ;  4°  philo- 
sophical effusions ;  5°  theological  hymns ;  and  6°  lastly, 
certain  odes  addressed  to  Virgil,  Maecenas,  &c.,  dictated  by 
the  -^vxest  friendship,  and  bearing,  more  than  all  the  rest,  the 
impress  of  earnestness  and  sincerity.  The  catalogue  ruisonn^, 
made  out  after  this  fashion,  took  iix,  I  found,  the  whole 
range  of  his  lyrics  ;  and,  instead  of  the  wild  luxuriancy  of 
uncontrolled  productiveness — the  very  wilderness  of  thought 
and  sentiment  which  the  book  now  presents — reduced  the 
collection  to  aU  the  symmetry  of  a  civilized  parterre  laid  out 
bv  Evelyn  or  Lendtre. 


THE    SONGS    or   HOEACE.  421 

Much  meditating,  however,  on  the  peculiar  genius  of  the 
poet,  and  fully  aware  that,  with  reference  to  the  "  series 
juncturaque"  he  practised  what  he  preached,  I  concluded 
that,  in  publishing  his  four  books  of  occasional  minstrelsy 
in  their  actual  order  of  succession,  totally  regardless  of 
the  date  of  each  particular  composition,  he  must  have 
been  guided  by  some  hidden  principle  of  refined  taste,  appli- 
cable to  the  precise  consecutive  position  assigned  to  every 
song.  Of  himself,  as  well  as  of  the  father  of  poetry,  it  may 
be  safely  predicated,  that  nil  molitur  inepte.  Hence,  on  ma- 
turer  consideration,  I  shrunk  from  interrupting  the  present 
law  of  precedence,  established  by  recognised  authority  ;  and 
I  resolved  to  maintain  it  as  steadfastly  as  if  I  had  taken  a 
regular  oath  not  to  "  weaken  or  disturb  the  Una  of  success- 
ion" in  the  harmony  of  Horace I  have  not  yet  got 

through  the  first  book.  If  I  recollect  right,  a  drinking  bout 
"  to  Vabus  "  (numbered  ode  xviii.)  wound  up  the  last 
paper ;  a  love-song  "  to  Q-itoeba"  (ode  sis.)  shall,  therefore, 
usher  in  the  essay  of  to-night. 

Horace  was  not  very  lucky  in  his  loves.  In  spite  of  all 
the  fervour  with  which  he  exhalts  the  fascinations  and  chants 
the  merits  of  the  fair  sex- — notwithstanding  the  delicacy  with 
which  he  could  flatter,  and  the  sprightly  ingenuity  with  which 
he  could  amuse  the  ladies  of  Home,  he  appears,  from  the 
desponding  tenor  of  his  amatory  compositions,  to  have  made 
but  small  havoc  among  the  hearts  of  patrician  matrons. 
These  ditties  are  mostly  attuned  to  the  most  plaintive  strain, 
and  are  generally  indicative  of  unrequited  attachment  and 
disappointed  hopes.  He  has  made  Posterity  the  confidante 
of  his  jealousy  regarding  "  Pteeha  ;"  "  Ltdia"  forsakes 
him  for  "  Telephits,"  who  was  probably  a  stupid  life-guards- 
man, measuring  five  feet  eleven  ;  "  Chloe"  runs  away  from 
his  addresses,  begging  her  mother  to  say  she  is  "yet  too 
young  to  form  an  engagement ;"  he  records  the  perjured 
conduct  of  "  Baeine"  towards  him ;  laments  the  inconstancy 
of  "Ne^ea,"  the  hauteur  of  "Ltce;"  makes  an  abject 
apology  to  "  Ttndaeis,"  whose  pardon  we  do  not  find  that 
he  obtains  ;  he  invites  her  to  his  viUa ;  we  don't  learn  that 
she  accepted  the  invitation. 

The  fact  is,  he  was  in  stature  a  dwarf,  with  a  huge  head, 


422  TATHEE  PEOTIT'S   EELIQrES. 

^  la  Quasimodo  ;  further  endowed  witli  an  -ungainly  promi- 
nence of  abdomen ;  eyes  wMcli  required  the  constant  appli- 
cation of  unguents  and  collyria ;  was  prematurely  bald,  like 
B^ranger — 

"  Moi,  h,  qui  la  eagesse 
A  ffidt  tomber  tous  les  chereux ;" 

and,  like  him,  he  might  break  forth  into  that  affecting  out- 
burst of  naif  despondency  derived  from  the  consciousness  of 
a  deformed  figure : 

"  Elle  est  SI  BELLE, 

Et  moi — et  moi — je  Buis  si  laid  !" 

By  the  way,  to  B&anger's  immortal  credit  be  it  remarked, 
that  he  is  the  only  Frenchman  who  ever,  under  any  circum- 
stances of  personal  ugliness,  made  a  similar  admission. 
"  Mons.  Mayeux"  fancied  himself  an  Adonis  ;  so  does  M. 
Thiers,  though  his  portraits  prove  him  to  be  what  Theodore 
Hook  has  imagined,  aa  the  exact  symbol,  or  vera  ixuiv,  of 
Tom  Moore :  viz.  "  something  between  a  toad  and  a  Cupid." 

Still,  nothing  could  keep  Horace  from  trying  his  fortune 
among  the  girls.  "  His  only  books  were  woman's  looks ;" 
though  "  foUy"  (as  in  Moore's  case)  was  positively  all  he 
gathered  from  the  perusal.  Though  his  addresses  are  repeat- 
edly rejected,  he  still  perseveres  ;  and,  in  spite  of  his  noto- 
rious scepticism  in  religious  matters,  he  actually  offers  up  a 
propitiatory  sacrifice  to  Venus,  in  the  hope  of  forwarding, 
by  supernatural  agency,  the  object  of  his  desires.  His  case, 
in  truth,  appears  one  of  peculiar  hardship  ;  and  so  graphic 
is  the  picture  he  draws  of  his  hopeless  passion,  that  Bacine 
has  found  nothing  more  powerful  wherewith  to  represent 
the  frensied  feelings  of  Phsedra,  in  his  wonderful  tragedy  of 
that  name,  than  two  lines  borrowed  from  the  following  ode : 

"  Ce  n'est  plus  une  ardem-  dans  mes  yeines  cachee, 
C'est  Vehtts  toute  enti^re  h  sa  proie  attachee." 


Ode  XIX. 

DB  GLTCBEA, 

Love's  imrelentiug  Queen,  Mater  sseva  Cupidinum 

With  Bacchiis — Theban  maid !  thy  wayward       Thebauseque  jubec 
child 


THE   SONGS   OF   HOBAOE. 


423 


Whene'er  I  try  to  weau, 
My  heajt,  from  vain  amours  and  follieB  wild, 
Is  sure  to  intervene, 
Kindling  within  my  breast  some  passion  un- 
foreseen. 

Grlycera's  dazzling  glance. 
That  with  voluptuous  light  my  vision  dims — 

The  graces  that  enhance 
The  Parian  marble  of  her  snow-white  limbs. 

Have  left  my  heart  no  chance 
Against  her  winning  wUes  and  playful  petulance. 

Say  not  that  Venus  dwells 
In  distant  Cyprus,  for  she  fills  my  breast. 

And  from  that  shrine  expels 
All  other  themes  :  my  lyre,  by  love  possest, 
No  more  with  war-notes  swells. 
Nor    sings    of  Parthian  shaft,  nor   Scythian 
slaughter  teUs. 

Come  hither,  slaves !  and  pile 
An  altar  of  green  turf,  and  incense  bum ; 

Strew  magic  vervain,  while 
I  pour  libations  from  a  golden  urn  : 
These  rites  may  reconcile 
The  goddess  of  fierce  love,  who  yet  may  deign 
to  smile. 

How  different  from  this  melancholy  love-lyric,  "made 
to  his  mistress's  eye-brow,"  is  the  jovial  style  which  he 
assumes  when  MoBcenas  has  promised  to  look  in  on  his 
rustic  dwelling,  on  his  road  to  some  sea-port.  "A  friend 
and  pitcher"  seem  to  constitute  the  native  and  proper  ele- 
ment of  Horace.  Mark  how  he  disports  himself  in  the 
contemplation  of  the  prime-minister  of  Augustus  seated  by 
his  cheerful  hearth,  and  partaking  of  such  homely  fare  as 
the  Sabine  farm  could  furnish;  insinuating  at  the  same 
time,  without  the  least  appearance  of  cajolery  or  toadyism, 
one  of  the  most  ingenious  compliments  that  ever  statesman 
received  from  dedicatory  poet  in  ancient  or  modern  times. 
Under  pretext  of  specifying  the  exact  age  of  some  bottled 
liquor,  which  he  promises  shall  be  forthcoming,  he  brings  up 
the  mention  of  a  fact  most  gratifying  to  the  feelings  of  bis 
exalted  patron.    As  Tasso  has  it, 

"  E  quel  che  cresce  sommo  pregio  aU'  opre 
L'  arte  che  tutto  fa,  nulla  si  ecuopre." 


Me  Semeles  puer, 
Et  lasciva  Licentia, 
Emitis  auimum 
Keddere  amoribus. 

tTrit  me  GHycerse  nitor 
Splendentis  Pario 
Marmore  purius  : 

TJrit  grata  protervitas, 
Et  vultus  nimium 
Lubricus  aspioi. 

In  me  tota  ruens  Venus 
Cyprum  deseruit : 
Nee  patitur  Scythas, 

Et   versis    animosum 
equis 
Parthum  dieere ;  neo 
Quae  nihil  attinent. 

Hie  vivum  mihi  cespi- 
tem,  hie 

Verbenas,  pueri 

Ponite,  thuraque, 
Bimi  cum  patera  men : 

Mactata  veniet 

Lenior  hostia. 


424  FATHEK  PEOTJT's   EEtlQrBS. 

Ode  XX. — "  POT-LrcK"  with  hoeace. 

AD  JOEOENATEM. 

Since  thou,  Mseoenas,  nothiBg  loth,  Vile  potabis  modicis  Sabinum 

Under  the  bard's  roof-tree,  Cantharis,   Crrmca  quod   ego 

CanBt  drink  rough  wine  of  Sabine  growth,  ipse  testa 

Here  stands  a  jar  for  thee ! —  Conditumlevi,datusintheatro 

The  Grecian  delf  I  sealed  myself,  Quum  tibi  plausus, 

That  year  the  theatre  broke  forth, 

In  tribute  to  thy  sterling  worth. 

When  Rome's  glad  shout  the  welkin  rent.  Care  Mseoenas  eques,utpatemi 

Along  the  Tiber  ran,  Fluminis  ripae,  simul  at  jocosa 

And  rose  again,  by  Echo  sent,  Kedderet  laudes  tibi  Vatioani 

Back  from  Mount  Vatican ; —  Montis  imago. 

When  with  delight,  0  Boman  knight ! 

Etruria  heard  her  oldest  flood 

Do  homage  to  her  noblest  blood. 

Wines  of  Ealemian  vintage,  friend,  Caecubum  et  prselo  domitam 
Thy  princely  cellar  stock ;  Caleno 

Bethink  thee,  should' st  thou  condescend  Tu  bibes  uvam;  mea  necEa- 
To  share  a  poet's  crock,  lemse 

Its  modest  shape,  Caj eta's  grape  Temperant  vites,  neque  Eor- 
Hath  never  tinged,  nor  Eormia's  hill  miani 

Deigned  with  a  purple  flood  to  fiU.  Pocula  coUes. 

EoUoweth,  in  due  consecutive  order,  one  of  those  per- 
formances whicli,  in  my  catalogue  above  alluded  to,  I  had 
set  down  as  one  of  the  "  hymns  theological."  Our  poet, 
besides  filling  at  the  court  of  Augustus  an  office  similar  to 
the  laureateship  of  old  Nahum  Tate,  of  birthday-ode  me- 
mory, seems  to  have  ■combined  with  that  responsible  sitna- 
ation  the  more  sacred  functions  of  Sternhold  and  Hopkins. 
The  Carmen  Seeculare  was  like  Southey's  Fision  of  Judgment 
— an  official  effusion  of  devout  loyalty  to  church  and  state. 
This  hymn,  recommending  (very  properly)  the  worship  of 
Diana  to  the  maidens  of  Eome,  while  he  exhorts  the  Eoman 
youth  to  reverence  Apollo,  must  have  been  composed  about 
the  year  v.c.  731,  when  scarcity,  combined  with  the  pros- 
pect of  war,  threatened  the  country.  That  Persia  and 
Great  Britain  should  be  made  the  scapegoats  on  the  occa- 
sion seems  natural  enough  ;  the  Jews  had  similar  uncharit- 
able ideas,  as  may  be  gather.ed  from  the  Psalms  of  David. 
(Ixxiz.  6,  &ni  passim). 


THE    SONGS  or  HOEACE.  425 

Ode  XXI. — ad  ptrsEM  BOMAifAM. 

Dianam  tenerse  dioite  virgines,  Vos  Temp^  totidem  toEite  laudibus, 

IntonsumpueridiciteCynthium,  Natalemque,  mares,  Delon  Apollouis, 

Latonamqae  supreme  Ineignenique  pharetrei, 

Dilectam  penitus  Jovi.  PrateruJlque  kumerum  lyiA. 

Voa  Isetam  fluviis  et  nemorum  Hie  bellum  laohrymosmn,  hsec  mise- 

com&,  rajcu  famem, 

Quffiomnque  aut  geKdo  prominet  Pestemque  a  populo  et  principe  Ceb- 

Algido,  sare, 

Wigria  aut  Erymanthi,  In  Peraas  atque  Britannos, 

Silvia  aut  viridia  Cragi.  Veatrl  motus  aget  prece. 


TO   THE   EISING   GENEBATION   OE   EOME. 

Worship  Diana,  young  daughtera  of  Italy ! 

Toutta  !  aing  Apollo — both  children  of  Jove : 
Honour  Latona,  their  mother,  who  mightily 

Triumphed  of  old  in  the  Thunderer's  love. 

Maids  !  aing  the  Huntress,  vrhose  hauuta  are  the  highlands, 

Who  treads,  in  a  buskin  of  silvery  sheen, 
!Each  forest-crowned  summit  through  Greece  and  her  islands, 

From  dark  Erymanthua  to  Cragua  the  green. 

Erom  Tempe'a  fair  valley,  by  Phoebua  frequented, 
To  Delos  hia  birthplace — the  light  quiver  hung 

Erom  his  shoulders — th,e  lyre  that  his  brother  invented — 
Be  each  shrine  by  our  youth  and  each  attribute  sung. 

May  your  prayers  to  the  regions  of  light  find  admittance 

On  Csesar'a  behalf; — and  the  Deity  urge 
To  drive  from  our  land  to  the  Persians  and  Britons, 

Of  Eamine  the  curae !  of  Bellona  the  scourge  I 

That  lie  considered  himself  the  object  of  special  solicitude 
to  the  gods,  is  very  perceptible  in.  his  writings ;  that  he  ac- 
tually believed  in  the  existence  of  these  celestial  personages 
is,  nevertheless,  as  nice  an  historical  problem  as  the  pedigree 
of  Perkin  Warbeck  or  the  piety  of  O'Connell.  Like  Bo- 
niface, however,  he  "  thrived  on  his  ale." 

"  Di  me  tuentur  :  dis  pietas  mea,"  &o. 

He  kept  his  skia  intact  (bene  curatd  cute),  bis  neighbours 
in  good  humour,  and  the  table  in  a  roar.  One  day, 
having  extended  his  rambles  beyond  the  boundary  of  hia 


426 


FATHEE  PEOTTt'S   EELIQUES. 


farm.,  humming  as  he  went  an  ode  "  to  Lalag^"  which  we 
have  unfortunately  lost  (unless  it  be  the  fifth  of  the  second 
book),  behold !  an  enormous  wolf  suddenly  stares  him  in 
the  face,  and  as  precipitately  takes  to  flight,  without  any 
apparently  efficient  cause.  The  dogs,  according  to  Shak- 
speare,  barked  at  Eichard ;  this  wolf  may  have  been,  pro- 
bably, frightened  by  the  poet's  ugliness  :  for,  according  to 
his  own  description,  he  was  a  regular  scarecrow.  Never- 
theless, mark,  reader,  how  he  chooses  to  account  for  the 
miracle.  The  ode,  in  a  literary  point  of  view,  has  always 
been  (and  most  deservedly)  admired:  "Aristius  fuscus" 
was,  however,  a  sort  of  wag,  as  may  be  gathered  from  the 
satire  "Ibam  vid  sacrd"  &c.  &c. 


Ode  XXir. 


AD  ABISTIUM  rTTSOUM. 


Aristius !  if  thou  canst  secure 

A  conscience  calm,  with  morals  pure, 

I;Ook  upwards  for  defence !  abjure 

All  meaner  craft — 
The  bow  and  quiver  of  the  Moor, 

And  poisoned  shaft. 

What  though  thy  perilous  path  lie 

traced 
O'er    burning    Afric's    boundless 

waate .... 
Of  rugged  Caucasus  the  guest, 

Or  doom'd  to  travel 
Where  fabulous  rivers  of  the  East 
Their  course  unravel ! . . . 

TJnder  my  Sabine  woodland  shade, 
Musing  upon  my  Grecian  maid, 
Unconsciously  of  late  I  strayed 

Through  glen  and  meadow, 
When,  lo !  a  ravenous  wolf,  a&aid, 

Hed  from  my  shadow. 

No  monster  of  such  magnitude 
Lurks  in  the  depth  of  Daunia's  wood, 
Or  roams  through  Lybia  unsubdued 

The  land  to  curse — 
Land  of  a  fearful  Uon-brood 

The  withered  nurse. 


Integer  vitse  soelerisque  purus 
Non  eget  Mauri  jaouhs,neque  arcn. 
Nee  venenatis  gravida  sagittis, 
Fusee,  pharetra ; 


Sive  per  Syrtes  iter  aestuosas, 
Sive  facturus  per  inhospitalem 
Cauoasum,  vel  quse  loca  fabulosos 
Lambit  Hydaspes. 


Namque  me  sUva  lupus  in  Sabina 
Dum  meam  canto  Lalagen,  et  ultra 
Terminum  curis  vagor  expeditis, 
B^git  inermem : 


Quale  porteutum  neque  militaris 
Daunia  in  latis  alit  esouletis  ; 
Nee  Jubse  teUus  generat,  leonum 
Arida  nutrix. 


THE    SONGS    OF   HOEAOE. 


427 


Waft  me  away  to  deserts  wild, 
Where  vegetation  never  emUed, 
Where  sunshine  never  once  beguiled 

The  dreary  day, 
But  winters  upon  winters  piled 

!For  aye  delay. 

Place  me  beneath  the  torrid  zone, 
Where  man  to  dwell  was  never  tnown, 
I'd  cherish  stiU.  one  thought  alone, 

Maid  of  my  choice ! 
The  smile  of  thy  sweet  Kp — the  tone 

Of  thy  sweet  voice ! 

Here  is  another  love  ditty ;  and,  as  usual,  it  places  on 
record  some  discomfiture  of  the  poet  in  his  attempt  to  play 
Vhomme  h,  bonnes  fortunes. 


Pone  me  pigris  ubi  nulla  oampis 
Arbor  sestiva  recreatur  aura. 
Quod  latus  mundi  nebulEs  ma- 
lusque 

Jupiter  urget  j 

Pone  sub  curru  nimium  propin- 

qui 
Soils,  in  terra  domibus  uegata : 
Dulce  ridentem  Lalagen  amabo, 
Duloe  loquentem. 


Ode  XXIII. — a  bemoitsteau'ce  to  chlob  the  BASHErii, 


Why  wilt  thou,  Chloe,  fly  me  thus  ? 

The  yearling  tid 
Is  not  more  shy  and  timorous, 
Our  woods  amid, 
Seeking  her  dam  o'er  glen  and  hiU, 
While  aU  lier  frame  vain  terrors  thriU. 

Should  a  green  lizard  chance  to  stir 

Beneath  the  bnsh — 
Should  Zephyr  through  the  mountain- 
fir 

Disporting  gush — 
With  sudden  fright  behold  her  start, 
With  trembling   knees   and    throbbing 
heart. 

And  canst  thou  think  me,  maiden  fair !  Atqui  non  ego  te, 

A  tiger  grim  ?  Tigris  ut  aspera, 

A  Lybian  Hon,  bent  to  tear  Getulusve  leo. 

Thee  Umb  by  limb  ?  Frangere  persequor. 

Still  canst  thou  haunt  thy  mother's  shade,  Tandem  desine  matrem 

Kipe  for  a  husband,  blooming  maid  ?  Tempestiva  sequi  viro. 


Vitas  hinnuleo 
Me  simiHs,  Chloe, 
Qusereuti  pavidam 
Montibus  aviis 
Matrem,  non  sine  vano 
Aurarum  et  sUveb  metu  : 

Nam,  seu  mobilibus 
Vepris  inhorruit 
Ad  ventum  foliis 
Seu  virides  rubum 
Dimovere  lacertee, 
Et  corde  et  genibus  tremit. 


Wo  "  elegy,"  In  all  antiquity,  appears  to  have  given  such 
.general  satisfaction  as  that  which  followed  Quinctilius  to 
the  tonlb.  History  would  have  taken  no  notice  of  his 
name,  but  Horace  has  secured  him  immortal  celebrity.  All 
we  know  of  him  is  contained  in  the  chronicle  of  Eusebius, 


428  FATHEE  PEOri'S   EELIQUES. 

quoted  by  St.  Jerome,  and  merely  refers  to  the  date  of  his 
death ;  nor  would  the  holy  father  probably  have  mentioned 
him  at  aU,  but  for  the  eloquent  requiem  chanted  over  his 
grave.  It  possesses  ineffable  sweetness  ia  the  original ;  the 
tender  melancholy  diffused  throughout  the  coniposition 
is  still  more  saddened  by  the  absence  of  anything  like  hope 
or  belief  in  a  future  state  of  existence,  which  was  totally 
undreamt  of  in  the  Horatian  system  of  philosophy.  David's 
elegy  over  Saul  and  Jonathan  is  clouded  by  the  same 
gloomy  misgiving  as  to  the  chances  of  a  blessed  futurity : 
yet,  what  can  be  more  beautiful  than  the  Hebrew  poet's 
exclamation — 

"  Let  the  dew  never  Ml  on  the  hiUs  where  the  pride 
Of  thy  warriors,  O  Israel !  Kes  slain  : 
They  were  lovely  in  life ;  and,  oh  mark !  how  the  tide 
Of  their  hearts'  blood  hath  mingled  again !" 

Milton's  Lyeidas ;  Burns's  splendid  effusion  over  Captain 
Henderson:  Malherbe's 

"  Bose  eUe  a  veou  ce  que  vivent  les  roses 
L'eapace  d'un  matiti !" 

Pope's  "  Unfortunate  Lady,"  and  "Wolfs  "  Funeral  of  Sir 
John  Moore,"  all  deserve  to  be  commemorated  in  connexion 
with  this  ode  of  Horace.  Nor  should  I  omit  to  notice 
(honoris  causd)  Gray's  elaborately  mournful  Elegy,  in 
which  he  has  gathered  into  one  sepulchral  urn  the  ashes 
of  the  human  race,  and  mingled  the  tears  of  all  manldnd  in 
one  grand  "  lachrymatory." 

Ode  XXIV.— ad  viE&iLirM.  deflet  QriNCTiLii  moetem. 

Quis  desiderio  sit  pudor  aut  modus  tam  oari  capitis  ?  PrEeoipelugubres 
Cantus,  Melpomene,  oui  liquidam  pater  vooem  cum  oithara  dedit. 

Ergo  Quinctilium  perpetuus  sopor  urget !  oui  Pudor,  et  Justitise  Boror, 
Incorrupta  Fides,  nudaque  Veritas,  quando  iillnm  iuvenient  parem  ? 

Multis  ille  bonis  flebilis  occidit ;  nulli  flebilior  quam  tibi,  Virgili ! 
Qhi  irustra  piua,  heu !  non  ita  creditum  poscis  Quinctihum  Deos. 

Quid !  si  Threicio  blandius  Orpheo  auditam  moderere  arboribus  £deui) 
Num  vansB  redeat  sanguis  imagiui,  quam  virga  semel  horrida, 

Non  lenis  precibus  fata  reclndere  nigro  compulerit  Mereurius  gregi  f 
Dm-um !  sed  levius  fit  patientia  quidquid  oorrigere  est  nefas. 


THE    SOir&S    OF   HOEACE.  429 


TO   TIRGIIi.      A   CONSOLATOBT  ADDEESS. 

Why  check  the  full  outhuTst  of  sorrow  ?    Why  blubh 

To  weep  for  the  friend  we  adored  ? 
Kaise  the  voice  of  lament !  let  the  swollen  tear  gush ! 
Bemoan  thee,  Melpomene,  loudly !  nor  hush 

The  sound  of  thy  lute's  Hquid  chord ! 

!For  low  Kes  QuinctiKus,  tranced  in  that  sleep 

That  issue  hath  none,  nor  sequel, 
let  Candour,  with  aU  her  white  sisterhood,  weep — 
Truth,  Meekness,  and  Justice,  his  memory  keep — 

For  when  shall  they  find  his  equal  ? 
■ 
Though  the  wise  and  the  good  may  bewail  him,  yet  none 

O'er  his  clay  sheds  the  tear  more  truly 
Than  you,  beloved  Virgil !    You  deemed  lam  your  own : 
You  mourn  his  companionship. — 'Twas  but  a  loan, 

Which  the  gods  have  wididravm  unduly. 

Yet  not  though  Eurydice's  lover  had  left 

Thee  a  legacy,  friend,  of  his  song ! 
Could'st  thou  warm  the  cold  image  of  life-blood  bereft, 
Or  force  death,  who  robbed  thee,  to  render  the  theft, 

Or  bring  back  his  shade  from  the  throng, 

Which  Mercury  guides  vpith  imperative  wand, 

To  the  banks  of  the  fatal  ferry. — 
'Tis  hard  to  endiu-e ; — but  'tis  wrong  to  despond : 
For  patience  may  deaden  the  blow,  though  beyond 

Thy  power,  my  friend,  to  parry. 

Plowers  haTe,  at  all  times,  suggested  hints  for  metaphor 
and  allegory.     Poets  cannot  get  on  at  all  without  constant 
reference  to  botanical  matters  ;  and  Flora,  by  right,  should 
have  been  one  of  the  Muses.     A  crazy  German  writer 
(one  Ludwig  Tieck)  maintains,  that  "  the  man  who  has  no 
taste  for  posies  cannot  have  Q-od's  grace  :"  a  sort  of  parody 
on  something  about  music  in  Shakespeare.    Another  mad 
sentimentalist,  from  the  same  district,  defines  woman  to  be 
"  something  between  a  flower  and  an  angel."     Tn  fact,  the 
"  florid  style  "  cannot  be  well  got  up  without  a  due  admix- 
ture of  such  fancies,  any  more  than  a  plum-pudding  without 
plums.  Ask  Tom  Moore,  for  example,  how  he  could  manage, 
if  deprived  of  these  gay  and  gaudy  materials  for  hia  con- 
cetti ?    He  might,  perhaps,  tell  you  that  he  still  would  have 
rainbovif,  stars,  crystals,  pearls,  hutterjlies,  and  such  other 


430 


TATHEB  PEOTJT'S   EELIQUES. 


"  glittering  glories,"  but,  without  Covent  G-arden  Market, 
he  would  soon  be  at  a  loss  to  carry  on  his  business.  Even 
in  the  flower  department  he  is  obliged  to  borrow.  An- 
acreon  and  Horace  had,  long  ago,  both  hit  on  an  idea, 
which  he  has  appropriated,  without  the  slightest  scruple  or 
acknowledgment,  in  a  well-known  melody,  of  which  he  has 
stolen  the  tune  from  the  "  Grroves  of  Blarney,"  and,  I  am 
sorry  to  say,  spoUed  it  by  some  outlandish  variations  of  his 
own. 

Ode  XXV. 


Podov  AvaKpeovTOe. 


MOOBE'S  B0aTTEB7. 


HOBATn  BOSABTUU. 


Movov  $€povt  poiav  fj.oi   'Tis  the  last  rose  of  summer  Eheu  rosaFum  floruit  ultimal 

Towt'  vayaTov  fi€v  avQsi'     Left  llooming  cdone—  VelmillenupercinctasororibaB, 

TJaaat  re  Kai  eraipat        AU  her  lovely  coirvpanwns  At  nunc  amicarum  cohorti 

Air(*)\e(ravTo*                       Are  faded  and  gone  /  Floribus  et  sociis  super&tes  1 


Ov  ri 
Tuv  (rvyyev(M}v  irapeaTt 
Vodav,  otiov  7'  arivai 
Otiov  re  Kat  ep€v9eiv'- 


Ov  XetyJ/OfAai  ire  X*1P*?' 
Eire  I  KaXai  davofTO 
Awe\de'  a-vv  Ka\aiin 
Idou  (re  xpr]  KaOevdeiv' 


£ar  ev<ppov<i)t  tre0ev  ras 
Kofxat  £7(1)  (TKeda^b)' 
Oirov  veKpai  re  Koa^oi 
Ktiwoio  aai  eratpai 
Etdovffi  KaWi^vWoit 

OwTWr  re  Kai  oipcKAev 
Taxvv  ipiKn  eiretrBai 
Orav  ^apaiverai  ^vX" 
Xa  ^iXitjt  epbiTOff 
KvkXou  t'  ano  ipaeivov 
XlniTovtTiu  01  (TfiapafSoii 

^i\at  oTi  (t>\eaavTO 
Ai  Kap&iat,  TIP  otov 
TovTip  CKcdv  9e\oiro 
Koa/jnf  vaieiv  epriftif; 


Nofiow&r  of  "her  Mndred, 
No  rose-bud,  is  nigh, 

To  reflect  hack  her  blushes, 
Or  give  sigh  for  sigh. 


Nee  una  manslt  conscia  quES 

prop6 
Suspiriorum  suavE  olentium, 
Suspiret  ultro — qua  rubenti 
Erubeat,  pia  &onBj  vicissim. 

rUnotleavet7tee,thoulone one,  "Nan  te    relinquam    stemmate 

To  pine  on  the  stem  ;  lugubre. 

Since  the  lovely  are  sleeping.     Quia  slngulari  fers  caput  unica ! 

Go  sle^  thou  with  them.  lere  dormit^m  sodales, 

TuTeliquiscomeBito-dormn 

Thus  Mndly  I  scatter  Sparsia  amici  eic  foliis  manu, 

Tkg  leaves  o'er  the  bed,        Finire  tristes  pergo  tibi  moras ; 

Where  thy  tnates  of  the  garden      Siccis  odoratas  per  hortum 
Lie  scentless  ajid  dead.  Frondibus     1     Buperadde 

frondes. 

So  soon  Tnay  I  follow  Etmisitolim  sorseadeinjprecor! 

WTien  friendships  decay       Qaando    sodales,    quseque   mi- 
Andfrom  lovers  shining  circle  cantia. 

The  gems  dr<yp  away.  Omaut  amicorum  coronam 

Gemmata,    depereunt— pe- 
rire  1 

Whsniruxhearfslie  witTiered,  Abrepta  fate  dissociabili 
And  fond  ones  are  flown,      Quando  tot  eheu  !  corda  jacent 

Oh,  who  would  inhabit  humi 

This  bleak  world  aXone  1  Quia  poscat  annos  ?  vita  talis 

Nonne  foret  mera  solitudo? 


How  mucli  more  creditable  and  gentlemanly  has  been 
the  conduct  of  an  old  English  song-writer,  G-eorge  Herbert,, 
who  having  occasion  to  work  out  the  same  thought,  scorns 
to  copy  with  servile  fidelity  the  Greek  or  Eoman  lyric ;  but, 
giving  it  a  new  form  altogether,  makes  it,  as  far  as  possible, 


THE    SONGS   OF    HORACE.  431 

his  own  property.  Here  is  the  canzonet ;  and  any  one, 
who  has  the  slightest  pretension  to  a  taste  for  antique  sim- 
plicity, must  see  how  far  superior  it  is  to  Moore's  artificial 
composition : 

"  I  made  a  posie  while  the  day  ran  by — 
Here  will  I  smell  my  remnant  out,  and  tie 

My  Ufe  within  this  band. 
But  Time  did  beckon  to  the  flowers,  and  they 
By  noon  most  cunningly  did  steal  away, 

And  wither  in  my  hand. 

Farewell,  dear  flowers  !  sweetly  your  time  ye  spent ; 
Kt  while  ye  lived  for  smell  or  ornament. 

And,  after  death,  for  cures. 
I  follow  straight,  without  complaint  or  grief  j 
And,  if  my  scent  be  good,  I  care  not  if 

It  be  as  short  as  yours." 

The  date  of  the  subsequent  ode  is  clearly  fixed,  by  the 
allusion  it  contains  to  the  troubles  occasioned  in  the  northern 
parts  of  the  empire  by  the  proceedings  of  King  Tiridates. 
It  is  addressed  to  Lamia,  a  Eoman  general,  who  had  distin- 
guished himself  in  the  peninsular  war  (jbello  Cantabrico),  and 
was  at  that  time  enjoying  his  half-pay  in  or  about  TiYoU. 

Ode  XXVI. — eeiettdship  and  poetex  the  best 

ANTIDOTES   TO    SOEEOW. 

Airaro  AB  v.c.  1730. 
Air — "  Fill  the  bumper  fair." 

Sadness — I  who  Kve  Musis  amicus 

Devoted  to  the  Muses,  Tristitiam  et  metus 

To  the  wild  wind  give,  Tradam  protervis 

To  waft  where'er  it  chooses ;  In  mare  Creticum 

Deigning  not  to  care  Portare  ventis, — 

What  savage  chief  be  chosen  Quis  sub  aroto 

To  reign  beneath  "  the  Bear,"  Eex  gehdse 

O'er  the  fields  for  ever  frozen.  Metuatur  orse, 

Let  Tiridates  rue  Quid  Tiridatem 

The  march  of  Eoman  legions,  Terreat,  unio^ 

While  I  my  path  pursue  Seourus.   O  quse 

Through  poesy's  calm  regions —  Fontibua  integris 

Bidding  the  Muse,  who  drinks  Gaudes,  aprioos 

Prom  the  foimtains  unpolluted,  Neete  flores, 

To  weave  with  flowery  links  Necte  meo 

A  wreath,  to  Friendship  suited,  Lamise  coronam. 


432 


TATHEE  PEOTJT'S   EELIQITES. 


For  gentle  Lamia's  brow. — 

O  Muse  melodious  !  sweetly 
Echo  his  praise ;  for  thou 

Alone  canst  praise  him  fitly. 
For  him  thy  Lesbian  shell 

With  strings  refurnish  newly, 
And  let  thy  sisters  swell 

The  jocund  chorus  duly. 

Sadness — I  who  live  doTOted,  &c. 


Pimplei  dulois, 
Nil  sine  te  mei 
Possunt  honores ; 
Hune  fidibus  novis, 
Euno  Lesbio 
Sacrare  plectro, 
Teque  tuasque 
Deoet  sorores. 

Musis  amicus,  &e. 


Next  comes  a  lively  and  animated  picture  of  Eoman  con- 
riviality.  The  ode  partakes  of  the  dramatic  character,  and 
would  appear  to  be  extemporaneously  poured  out  by  Horace, 
in  his  capacity  of  "  wine-king,"  or  "  toast-master,"  at  a  jovial 
meeting.  The  evening  is  far  advanced  ;  sundry  debateable 
subjects  have  been  started ;  the  retort  uncourteous  has  been 
more  than  once  interchanged ;  the  cup  of  boisterous  hilarity 
has  kindled  in  its  circulation ;  of  a  sudden  the  guests  have 
started  from  their  couches,  in  the  ardour  of  discussion,  and, 
heated  with  wine,  are  about  to  come  to  blows,  when  the 
poet  rising  obtains  silence  for  a  song.  The  ingenuity  with 
which  he  turns  their  attention  to  topics  of  a  less  exciting 
nature,  and  the  gracefully  playful  style  of  his  address,  pre- 
sent us  with  a  most  amiable  idea  of  the  poet's  disposition, 
and  prove  him  to  have  been  a  man  of  consummate  tact. 

Ode  XXVII. — ad  sodales. 


Natis  in  usum  Isetitise  scyphis  Cessat  voluntas  ? — Won  alia  bibam 

Pugnare,  Thracum  est.   ToUite  bar-  Meroede. — Quae  te  cumque  domat 

barum  Venus, 

M'orem.verecundumqueBacchum  Non  erubesceudis  adurit 

Sanguineis  prohibete  rixis'.  Iguibus,  ingenuoque  semper 


Vino  et  lucemis  Medus  acinaces. 
Immane  quantum  discrepat !     Im- 
pium 
Lenite  olamorem,  sodales, 
Et  cubito  remanete  presso. 

Vultis  severi  me  quoque  sumere 

Partem  Falerni  ?  dicat  Opuntise 

Frater  Megillse  quo  beatus 

Vulnere,  qua  pereat  sagitta. 


Amore  peccas !      Quidquid  habes, 

age,  _ 
Depone  tutis  auribus. — Ah !  miser 
Quanta  laboras  in  Charybdi, 
Digue  puer  meUore  fiamma ! 

Quae  saga,  quis  te  solvere  Thessalis 
Magnus  venenis,  quis  poterit  Deus  ? 
Vix  iUigatum  te  triform! 
Pegasus  expediet  Chimrera. 


THE    SONflS    OF   HOEACE.  433 


A  BANQTTET-SCENI!.      TOAST   AKD    SENTIMEIfr. 

To  mate  a  weapon  of  joy's  cup,  my  friends, 

Is  a  vile  Tliracian  oUBtom ; 
Shame  on  such  praetioes ! — they  mar  the  ends 
Of  calm  and  kindly  Bacchus.    Dloodshed  tends 

To  sadden  and  disgust  him. 

Here,  'mid  the  howls,  what  business  hath  the  sword  ? 

Gome,  sheathe  yon  Persian  dagger ; 
Let  the  bright  lamp  shine  on  a  quiet  board ; 
Becline  in  peace — these  hours  we  can't  aiford 

Jor  brawling,  soxmd,  and  swagger. 

Say,  shall  your  chairman  fill  his  cup,  and  drain 

Of  brimming  bowls  another? 
Then,  first,  a  TOAST  his  mandate  shall  obtain  j 
He'U  know  the  nymph  whose  witcheries  enchain 

The  fair  MegiUa's  brother. 

What !  silent  thus  ?     Dost  fear  to  name  aloud 

The  girl  of  thy  affection  ? 
Youth !  let  thy  choice  be  candidly  avowed ; 
Thou  hast  a  dehcate  taste,  and  art  allowed 

Some  talent  for  selection. 

Yet,  if  the  loud  confession  thou  wilt  shun. 

To  my  safe  ear  discover 
Thy  cherished  secret. .  . .  Ah,  thou  art  undone ! 
What !  she  ?    How  Uttle  such;  a  heartless  one 

Deserves  so  fond  a  lover ! 

What  fiend,  what  Thracian  witch,  deaf  to  remorse. 

Hath  brewed  thy  dire  love-potion  ! 
Scarce  could  the  hero  of  the  wingfed  horse 
Efieet  thy  rescue,  or — to  free  thee — force 

That  dragon  of  the  ocean ! 

In  the  usual  editions  of  our  poet,  the  twenty-eighth  ode 
presents  us -with  a  rather  stupid  "dialogue"  between  one 
"  A.rchytas  and  a  Sailor."  I  have  no  hesitation  in  substi- 
tuting, from  Hardouin's  "  Y suSo  Horatius"  (foUo,  Amst. 
1740),  the  proper  reading;  which,  on  examination,  will  be 
found  to  preserve  the  essence  of  the  colloquy,  while  it  is 
much  more  Horatian  in  spirit.  Marcus  EptJLO  Bibax  is  a 
well-known  character  in  the  annals  of  Eome,  as  may  be 


434 


FATHEE  PEOrT'S   BELIQUES. 


seen  in  Tfiebukr's  admirable  work.  His  monument  (a  fine 
old  pyramidal  erection)  stands  at  the  gate  opening  on  the 
Via  Ostia,  and  adds  a  solemn  dignity  to  the  adjacent  buriai- 
ground  of  our  countrymen — "  II  Cimitero  degli  Inglesi." 


Ode  XXYIII. 


When  Bibo  went  down 

To  the  regions  below. 
Where  the  waters  of  Styi 

Kound  Eternity  flow, 
He  awoke  with  a  cry, 

That  "  he  would  be  brought  back ; 
For  his  soul  it  was  dry. 

And  he  wanted  some  sack." 

^'  You  were  drunk,"  replied  Charon, 

"  You  were  drunk  when  you  died ; 
And  you  felt  not  the  pain 

That  to  death  is  allied." 
"  Take  me  back !"  answered  Bibo, 

"  For  I  mind  not  the  pain ; 
Take  me  back  I  take  me  back ! 

Let  me  die  once  again !" 

Meantime  the  gray  ferryman 

Ferried  him  o'er. 
And  the  crazy  old  bark 

Touched  the  Stygian  shore ; 
There  old  Bibo  got  out. 

Quite  unable  to  stand. 
And  he  jostled  the  ghosts 

As  they  crowded  the  strand. 

"  Have  a  care !"  cried  out  Charon ; 

"  Hare  a  care !  'tis  not  weU : 
For  remember  you  're  dead. 

And  your  soul  is  in  hell." 

Moral. 

"  I'm  in  hell,"  replied  Bibo  ; 

"  WeU  I  liiow  by  the  sign : 
'Twas  a  hell  upon  earth 

To  be  wanting  of  wine." 


Cum  Bibas  barltthro 

Desceuderat  imo 
QusB  loca  Styx  atro 

Circumfiuit  limo, 
EvigUaas,  poscit 

Niun  forte  Palemi 
Vas  bibere  mos  sit 

Id  reguia  Avemi. 

Cui  Charon,  "  Venisti 

Hue  gravis  lagenil, 
Sic  funeris  tristi 

Immunis  a  pcend." — 
Tum  Bibax,  "  Betrorsiun 

Due  iterum  vitse, 
Vt  funeris  morsnm 

Bxperiar  rit^." 

Sed  interim  pigr& 

Transvehitur  rate, 
QuEB  rip&  mox  nigr4 

Sistit  delicate : 
In  Uttore  statim, 

Exoritur  scena, 
Umbras  catervatim 

Disturbat  areu4. 

Cui  Charon  de  nave : 
"  Hie  Orcus  est,  homo 

Ne  titubes  cave 
Plutonis  in  domo." 

E'iHn&op. 
"  Plutonis  caverua 

Parebat  viventi, 
Siquando  tabema 

Seerat  sitienti." 


THE    SONGS   OP   HOEACE.  435 

THE  SONQS  OF  HOEACE. 

DECADE   THE  EOUBTH. 

"  Eoratii  curiosa  felicitas." — Peteon.  Aebitbb,  cap.  118. 

I       "  D'  un  s\  viraoB 
Splendido  colorir,  d'  uu  si  fecoudo 
Sublime  immaginar,  d'  ima  si  ardita 
Felioita  sicura 
Altro  mortal  non  arrichi  natura." 

Abbaie  Metastasio,  Opera,  torn.  xii.  Krenze,  1819. 

"  Sublime,  familier,  eolide,  enjouye,  tendre, 
Ais^,  profond,  naif,  et  fin ; 
Vive,  Horace,  avant  tout !  runivers  pour  I'entendre 
Aime  k  redevenir  Latin." — La  Motte,  Poh.  Leg. 

"  When  Alba  warred  with  Rome  for  some  disputed  frontier  farms, 
Three  Horaces  gained  fatherland  ascendancy  iu  arms ; 
A  single-handed  champion  now  amid  the  lyric  throng, 
One  of  the  name,  stands  forth  to  claim  supremacy  in  song." 

Baebt  Cobkwall, 

Whef  the  celebrated  lame  poet,  Paddy  Kelly,  had  the 
honour  of  being  introduced  to  George  the  Fourth,  on  that 
monarch's  Mulgravising  visit  to  Dublin  (an  honour  extended 
to  several  other  distinguished  natives,  such  as  Falvey  the 
sweep,  Jack  Lawless  the  orator,  Daniel  Donnelly  the  boxer, 
and  another  Daniel,  who  of  late  years  has  practised  a  more 
profitable  system  of  boxing),  his  majesty  expressed  himself 
desirous  of  personally  witnessing  an  exhibition  of  the  bard's 
extemporaneous  talent,  having  heard  many  marvellous  ac- 
counts of  the  facility  with  which  his  genius  was  wont  to 
vent  itself  in  unpremeditated  verse.  The  Hibernian  impro- 
visatore  forthwith  launched  out  into  a  dithyramb,  of  which 
the  biirden  appeared  to  be  a  panegyric  on  Byron  and  Scott, 
whose  praises  he  sang  in  terms  of  fervid  eulogy ;  winding 
up  with  what  certainly  seemed  to  his  illustrious  auditor  a 
somehow  abrupt  and  startling  conclusion,  viz. : 

"  'Twould  take  a  Byron  and  a  Scott,  I  tell  ye, 
BoUed  up  in  one,  to  make  a  Pat  O'Zelit  !" 

Doubtless  such  was  the  honest  conviction  of  the  Irish 

!■  r  2 


436  TATnEE  PEOtrT"S   eeliques. 

rhapsodist ;  and  if  so,  he  had  an  undeniable  right  to  put  his 
opinion  on  record,  and  publish  it  to  the  world.  Are  we 
not,  every  week,  favoured  by  some  hebdomadal  LoNGiisrrs 
with  his  peculiar  and  private^  ideas  on  the  sublime  ;  of 
which  the  last  new  tragedy,  or  the  latest  volume  of  verse 
(blank  or  otherwise),  is  pronounced  the  finest  model  ?  What 
remedy  can  the  public  have  against  the  practice  of  such  im- 
position ?  None  whatever,  until  some  scientific  man  shall 
achieve  for  literature  what  has  been  done  for  the  dairy,  and 
invent  a  critical  "  lactometer,"  by  which  the  exact  density 
of  milk-and-water  poetry  may  be  clearly  and  undeniably 
ascertained.  At  present,  indeed,  so  variable  seems  the  stan- 
dard of  poetical  merit,  that  we  begin  to  believe  true  what 
Edmund  Burke  says  of  Taste  among  the  moderns:  that 
"  its  essence  is  of  too  ethereal  a  nature  for  us  ever  to  hope 
it  win  submit  to  bear  the  chains  of  definition." 
,  In  this  vag^e  and  unsatisfactory  state  of  things,  Prout 
lias,  perhaps,  "  chosen  the  better  part."  He  would  appear 
to  confine  the  range  of  his  admiration  within  the  happy  circle 
of  recognised,  incontestable,  and  transcendent  excellence. 

All  this  he  has  found  superemiaently  in  the  canonised 
object  of  these  running  commentaries.  He  stands  not  alone 
in  hailing  therein  Hoeace  as  prince  of  all  lyric  poets  of 
every  age  and  clime.  In  so  doing,  he  merely  bows  to  the 
general  verdict  of  mankind ;  which,  when  fairly  collected 
and  plainly  uttered,  constitutes  a  final  and  irrevocable 
award,  the  maxim  of  Vincent,  abbot  of  Lerins,  being, 
"  Quod  sempee,  quod  tiBlQTJE,  quod  ah  omuibus  traditum 
est.'"  Geometry  and  logarithms  may  admit  of  being  de- 
monstrated in  the  abstract  nakedness  of  their  intrinsic 
evidences ;  but  in  poetry,  as  ia  religion,  the  experience 
of  every  day  sufB.ciently  shows  the  proneness  of  individual 
judgment  to  strange  and  fantastic  theories,  which  can  only 
be  rectified  by  a  reference  to  the  universal  sentiment — 
the  sensus  comtimnis  of  the  human  species.  Prout  always 
paid  deference  to  time-honoured  reputations.  Great  was, 
hence,  his  veneration  for  the  "  venerable  Bede ;"  and,  not- 
withstanding the  absence  of  all  tangible  evidences,  most 
vigorously  did  he  admire  the  "  admirable  Crichton."  In 
Aeibtotle  he  persisted  to  recognise  the  great  master-mind 
of  metaphysics ;  he  scouted  the  transcendentalism  of  East  : 


THE    SONGS   OF   HOBACE.  437 

Biifficient  for  him  was  the  cosmogony  of  Moses  ;  he  laughed 
to  scorn  the  conjectures  of  geology.* 

This  reminds  us  of  the  "  astounding  discovery"  with  which 
Dr.  BucKLAND  is  reported  to  have  lately  electrified  the 
Bristolians.  Ephraim  Jenkinson's  ghost  must  have  heard 
with  jealousy,  on  the  banks  of  the  Styx,  the  shouts  of  ap- 
plause which  echoed  the  Doctor's  assertion  on  the  banks  of 
the  Avon,  that  the  world  had  already  lasted  "  millions  of 
years;"  that  a  "new  version  of  Genesis"  would  be  shortly 
required,  since  a  new  light  "  had  been  thrown  on  Hebrew- 
scholarship !"  The  doctor's  declaration  is  very  properly 
described  as  the  only  "  original  fact"  elicited  at  the  meeting. 
What  fun !  to  hear  a  mite  in  the  cavity  of  a  Gloucester 
cheese  gravely  reasoning  on  the  streaks  (or  strata)  of  red 
and  yeUov?,  and  finally  concluding,  aU  things  duly  consi- 
dered, that  the  invoice  of  the  farmer  who  made  it  bears  a 
wrong  date,  and  that  the  process  of  fabricating  the  cheese 
in  question  must  have  been  begun  as  long  ago,  at  least,  as 
the  days  of  the  heptarchy ! 

There  is  often  more  strict  logic,  and  more  dovniright  com- 
mon sense,  in  a  poet's  view  of  nature  and  her  works, 
than  in  the  gravest  and  most  elaborate  mystifications  of 
soi-disanf  philosophy.  We  shall,  therefore,  hesitate  not 
to  place  in  contraposition  to  this  Bucklandish  theory  the' 
ideas  of  Chateaubriand  on  the  subject,  leaving  to  any 
dispassionate  thinker  to  say  on  which  side  reason  and 
analogy  preponderate.  "They  teU  us,"  says  the  author 
of  the  G^nie  du  Christianisme,  whose  exact  words  we 
cannot  remember  at  this  time  of  the  evening,  "that  the 
earth  is  an  old  toothless  hag,  bearing  in  every  feature 
the  traces  of  caducity;  and  that  six  thousand  years  are 
not  enough  to  account  for  the  hidden  marks  of  age  dis- 
coverable to  the  eyes  of  Science : — but  has  it  never  occurred 
to  them,  that,  in  producing  this  globe  for  the  dwelling  of 
man,  it  may  have  suited  Providence  to  create  all  its  com- 
ponent parts  in  the  stage  of  full  maturity,  just  as  Adam 
himself  was  called  into  being  at  the  full  age  of  manhood, 
without  passing  through  the  preparatory  process  of  infancy,  , 

*  At  this  period  the  difficulty  of  reoonciling  geology  with  Genesis  was 
yet  rife,  and  Colburn,  dean  of  York,  was  applauded  in  his'  denimcia- 
tions  of  Dr.  Buckland,  auhsequsutly  dean  of  WeBtmiuster, 


438  TATHEB   PEOUT'S   EELIQTJE8. 

boyhood,  or  youth  ?  "When  God  planted  the  soil  of  Para- 
dise, think  ye  that  the  oak  of  a  hundred  years'  growth  was 
wanting  to  shed  its  mighty  shadow  over  our  first  parents  ? 
or  are  we  to  believe  that  every  tree  was  a  mere  shrub,  just 
emerging  from  the  ground  ?  Was  the  lion,  whom  Milton 
describes  so  graphically  as 

'  Pawing  to  get  free 
His  hinder  parts,* 

nothing  but  a  new-bom  cub  ?  I  do  not  believe  it.  I  hold 
that  the  grove  waved  its  majestic  pines,  already  bearing 
among  their  topmost  branches  the  ready-built  nest  of  the 
rook  and  the  young  family  of  the  dove ;  that  the  sheep 
browsed  on  the  green  sward,  with  her  attendant  lamb ;  and 
that  the  bold  rock  overhung  the  running  stream,  with  the 
mantling  ivy  already  twining  through  its  crevices,  and  exhi- 
biting the  marks  of  age  on  its  hoary  surface.  Did  not  the 
Creator  understand  the  effect  and  the  beauty  of  what  we 
are  agreed  to  call  the  picturesque  ?  or,  in  his  Eden,  did  He 
overlook  the  graces  of  landscape  ?  What  a  clumsy  artificer 
these  men  would  represent  their  Maker  to  be !  What  a 
crude  and  ill-assorted  planet  would  they  describe  as  issuing 
from  the  hands  of  Omnipotence,  to  require  the  operation  of 
time  and  the  influence  of  chemical  agents  to  bring  it  to 
perfection!  'Non!  non!  le  jour  mfeme  que  I'oc^an  epandit 
ses  premieres  vagues  stir  nos  rives,  il  baigna,  n'en  doutons 
point,  des  6cueils  d^jk  rouges  par  les  flots,  des  graves  semfes 
de  d^ris,  de  coquillages,  et  des  caps  d^cham6s,  qui  soute- 
naient  centre  les  eaux  les  rivages  croulans  de  la  terre ;  sans 
cette  vieUlesse  originaire,  'il  n'y  aurait  eu  ni  pompe  ni  ma- 
iest6  dans  I'univers.' " "  The  great  whales  lay 

'  Floating  many  a  rood' 

at  the  first  instant  of  their  creation,  and  the  full-grown 
elephant  roamed  in  the  Indian  forest,  among  gigantic  trees 
coeval  with  a  world  of  yesterday."  So  much  for  Buckland. 
We  feel  that  we  have  digressed  from  the  professed  object 
of  this  paper,  by  going  so  far  back  as  the  hexemeron,  or 
six  days'  work  of  the  Creator.  In  Bacine's  only-begotten 
comedy  of  the  Pleaders,  the  judge,  anxious  to  bring  an 
advocate,  who  had  indulged  in  a  similar  flight,  back  to  the 


THE    SONGS    or   HOEACE.  439 

fitolen  capon,  which  formed  the  matter  in  dispute,  gentlr 
interposes  by  the  celebrated  joke,  "  Passons  au  diluge."  "We 
shall  take  the  hint,  and  return  to  Horace. 

This  decade  terminates  Vob  first  book  of  the  Odes.  Prout 
has  thus  furnished  the  world  ^ith  a  complete  translation — 
so  far — of  the  Sabine  songster.  Whether  we  shall  be  able 
to  fish  up  any  further  leaves  of  the  Horatian  category  from 
the  old  trunk  is  yet  a  riddle.  Sufficient,  however,  has  been 
done  to  place  the  critic  of  Watergraashill  on  a  level  with 
the  long-winded  Jesuit,  Father  Sanadon,  in  the  muster-roU 
of  the  poet's  commentators. 

OLIVER  TOEKE. 

Regent  Street,  23<f  September. 


Watergrasshill,  al  solito. 

The  Ufe  of  Hoeace,  as  all  the  world  knows,  has  been  epito- 
mised by  SuETONiirs,  a  £oman  biographer,  who  (so  far  as 
we  may  judge  from  the  portion  of  his  works  we  possess) 
must  have  entertained  peculiar  notions  as  to  the  relative, 
attraction  possessed  by  the  individual  subjects  selected  for 
his  memoirs.  In  PalstafPs  tavern-bill  there  appeared  but 
one  ha'porth  of  bread  to  counterbalance  several  dozens  of 
sack;  SuETONiTTS  furnishes  us  with  a  miscellaneous  account 
of  celebrated  characters,  in  which  the  rules  of  proportion, 
are  just  as  little  attended  to — there  is  but  one*  poet  to 
twelve  "  CcBsars."  ' 

In  this  solitary  life  of  an  homme  de  lettres,  which 
seems  to  have  found  its  way,  through  some  mistake,  iato 
the  gorgeous  circle  of  imperial  biography,  there  is  one  oc- 
currence marked  down  by  the  courtly  chronicler  with  more 
than  usual  carefulness  j  sparing  neither  circumstantial  nor 
documentary  detail  iu  his  anxiety  to  put  us  iu  full  posses- 
sion of  the  (to  him  inexplicable)  conduct  of  the  poet  on  the 
occasion. 

One  fine  evening,  towards  the  close  of  autumn,  Flaccus 
was  seated,  alfresco,  imder  the  porch  of  his  Sabiue  viQa,  his 

*  Prout  seema  to  think  that  the  fragments  relating  to  Luean,  Terence, 
and  Juvenal  are  not  to  be  ascribed  to  the  biographer  of  Horace.  Sau- 
maise  has  not  decided  the  question, — O.  Y. 


440  FATHEE  PEOUT'S   EELIQTJES. 

arms  crossed  on  his  breast  in  a  pensive  attitude,  a  tall 
Greek  jar,  filled  with  home-made  wine,  standing  out  in 
bold  relief  before  him,  his  eye  apparently  intent  on  the 
long  shadow  projected  by  the  graceful  amphora  as  it  inter- 
cepted the  rays  of  the  setting  sun. 

Me  was  thinking  of  Viegil,  who  uad  just  died  at  Naples, 
after  a  long  and  painful  iUness,  and  whose  loss  to  literature 
and  social  companionship  no  one  could  appreciate  more 
feelingly  than  Hoeace.  They  had  but  lately  wept  in  com- 
mon oyer  "  Quinctilius  ;"  and  the  same  reflection  which  had 
dried  up  the  tear  of  the  mourners  then  (viz.,  that  "  there 
was  nb  help  for  it"),  was  probably  the  only  one  that  pre- 
sented itself  to  his  mind  to  mitigate  the  pangs  of  this  fresh 
bereavement.  A  slave  was  meantime  seen  approaching  in 
the  distant  landscape,  dressed  in  the  peculiar  costume  of  the 
lahellarii,  and  bearing,  in  the  dust  and  exhaustion  visible 
throughout  his  person,  evidence  of  a  hurried  journey  from 
the  metropolis.  On  reaching  the  spot  where  the  poet  sat, 
absorbed  and  "gazing  on  vacancy,"  the  arrival  of  one  in 
whom  he  recognised  a  familiar  servant  of  Maecenas  was  suffi- 
cient to  draw  him  from  his  reverie ;  especially  when,  on 
examining  the  tablets  handed  to  him  by  the  slave,  he  per- 
ceived on  the  seal  that  closed  the  silver  thread  with  which 
the  letter  was  bound  up,  the  impression  of  a  sphynx — a 
well-known  emblem  used  by  his  patron.  He  broke  the  en- 
velope at  once,  and  read  as  foUows : 

"  OcTATiTJS  CssAE,  Augifetus,  Prince  of  the  Senate,  per- 
petual Consul,  Tribune  for  Ufe,  to  C.  M^cbnas,  Knight, 
Prefect  of  Eome,  dwelling  on  the  Esquiline,  health. 

"  Hitherto  I  have  been  able  to  find  time  for  keeping  up  a 
friendly  intercourse  by  letter  with  my  numerous  correspondents 
myself,  but  the  increaiing  press  of  business,  and  my  growing 
infirmities,  now  put  it  out  of  my  power.  I  therefore  wish  to 
entice  our  friend  Horace  from  your  exclusive  circle.  Allow  him 
to  exchange  your  hospitable  board  for  a  residence  at  the  palace 
here.     He  is  to  act  as  my  private  secretary.     Farewell. 

"  From  Mount  Palatine,  the  kalends  of  October."* 

Maecenas  had  transmitted  to  his  friend  and  guest  the  im- 
•  Terbatim  from  Suetonius.    See  Cuvillier  Pleury,  E.D.  Paru,  1830. 


THE    SONGS   OP   HOEAOE.  441 

perial  epistle,  without  adding  a  single  syllable  of  note  or 
comment  to  what  was  thus  briefly  couched  in  the  handwritiag 
of  his  august  correspondent.  Horace  was  -at  first  at  a  loss 
to  account  for  this  deficiency,  but,  after  a  moment!s  reflec- 
tion, could  not  but  bestow  his  approval  on  the  delicate  re- 
serve, which  left  him  entire  liberty  to  act  according  to  his 
own  unbiassed  judgment  iu  a  matter  so  whoUy  personal  to 
himself. 

The  slave,  meantime,  stood  waiting  in  respectful  silence  ; 
the  poet  motioned  him  to  follow  into  the  atrium,  where  he 
traced  a  few  lines  for  his  master,  and  despatched  him  back 
to  Eome.  That  night,  at  supper,  Msecenas  conveyed  to  Au- 
gustus the  result  of  his  message  to  the  Sabine  farm  :  it  was 
a  refusal  to  accept  the  offer  of  the  emperor. 

The  secret  motives  which  influenced  a  determination  so 
prompt  and  decisive  on  the  poet's  part,  he  most  probably 
did  not  communicate  to  Msecenas.  It  is  likely  that  he 
adopted  in  his  reply  the  usual  plea  of  "  Ol  health,"  though 
his  jolly,  plump,  and  rubicund  appearance  at  their  next  meet- 
ing sufficiently  gave  the  lie  to  any  valetudinarian  pretences. 
Perhaps  he  put  forward  his  predilections  for  a  country  life, 
and  his  fondness  for  rural  solitude,  of  which  he  has  so  often 
(ironically)  celebrated  the  charms  •  such  pretext  must  have 
amused  those  who  were  best  acquainted  with  his  versatile 
disposition,  and  knew  how  little  the  dull  monotony  of  rusti- 
cation was  suited  to  his  lively  humour. 

"  Somce  Tibur  amem  ;  ventosus  Tibure  Romam." — Ep.  i.  8.  12. 

Are  we,  then,  to  conjecture  that  sheer  idleness  dictated  the 
refusal  ?  Are  we  to  conclude  that  the  doloe  far  niente  of  a 
modern  lazzarone  had  been  practically  anticipated,  and  ex- 
emplified in  the  conduct  of  an  ancient  Eoman  ?  I  shall 
have  a  word  or  two  to  say  hereupon,  ere  a  verdict  is  given 
dishonourable  to  the  character  of  Horace.  I  merely  remark 
en  passant,  that  the  duties  of  a  private  secretary  in  the  pa^ 
lace  of  Augustus  were  far  from  bearing  any  resemblance  to 
the  tedious  functions  imposed  by  the  prosy  and  long-winded 
style  of  correspondence  adopted  in  recent  diplomacy  :  billets- 
doux  of  old  were  quite  as  short  as  those  of  Lord  Melbourne.* 

*  He.  gr. :  "  How  are  you?     I  shall  call  at  two. 

(Signed)  "Melbottene." — O.Y. 

In  Trial  of  Hon.  Gr.  C.  Norton  T.  Melbourne. 


442  TATHEB  PEOUT'S  EEMQUES. 

There  were  no  foolscap  sheets  of  protocol  nonsense  inter- 
changed in  those  days;  and  the  secretaryship  on  Mount 
Palatine  would  have  been,  as  nearly  as  possible,  a  luxurious 
sinecure. 

But  may  not  he,  as  an  homme  de  lettres,  have  looked  on  the 
mere  technical  employment  of  "  polite  letter-writer "  as 
something  degrading  to  his  genius,  and  derogatory  to  the 
high  aspirings  of  intellect ;  as  clogging  the  wings  of  fancy, 
and  impeding  the  lofty  flights  of  lyrical  enthusiasm  ?  There 
may  be  something  in  this  surmise,  yet  it  is  far  from  afibrding 
a  satisfactory  explanation  of  the  matter.  The  case,  I  appre- 
hend, admits  of  reasoning  drawn  from  analogy.  Pindae 
held  some  such  ministerial  appointment  at  the  Sicilian  court 
of  HiEEO,  yet  he  soared  unshackled  into  the  aerial  regions 
with  undiminished  buoyancy,  fixing  on  the  effulgent  source 
of  poetic  inspiration  an  eagle  gaze  that  never  faltered.  Old 
John  Milton  was  "  Latin  secretary"  to  the  copper-nosed 
usurper  at  Whitehall,  yet  what  spirit  like  his  could 

"  Tempt,  with  wandering  feet, 
The  dark,  unfathomed,  infinite  abyss ; 
And  through  the  palpable  obscure  find  out 
His  uncouth  way  ?  or  waft  his  airy  flight, 
XTpbome  on  inde&tigable  wings  ?" 

Tasso  had  an  epistolary  engagement  in  the  household  of 
Este,  at  Perrara  ;  Vida  did  the  duties  of  a  Eoman  canoni- 
cate,  and  held  a  Tusculan  prebend  at  the  hands  of  Leo  X. 
Eacine  occupied  the  post  of  "historiographer"  to  the 
Grand  Monarque ;  Addison  and  Prior,  Chateaubriand  and 
Petrarch,  have  been  each  in  his  day  members  of  the  "  corps 
diplomatique,"  without  suffering  any  detriment  in  their  ima- 
ginations and  poetic  faculties.  But  of  all  the  official  minis- 
trations which  have  brought  literary  men  in  contact  with 
courts  and  sovereigns,  no  two  more  similar  positions  could  be 
instanced  than  those  relatively  occupied  by  Voltaire  at  Pots- 
dam, and  (had  he  chosen  to  accept)  by  Horace  in  the  palace 
of  Augustus.  It  is  true,  that  the  witty  Prench  infidel  occa- 
sionally complained  of  being  compelled  to  revise  and  retouch 
the  poetic  effusions  of  Frederick — "  Je  lave  le  tinge  sdle  de 
sa  majestd;"  and  it  would  appear  that  the  Eoman  emperor 
Lad  a  similar  mania  for  trying  his  hand  at  versification,  as 


THE    SONGS   OP   HOBAOB.  443 

several  hexameter  fipagments  still  extant  seem  to  indicate  : 
hence  no  doubt  he  intended  to  avail  himself  of  our  poet's  fa- 
cility and  good  nature  to  introduce  certain  metrical  graces 
into  the  dull  routine  of  imperial  correspondence.  Certain 
it  is,  that  (snuff,  brandy,  obscene  jokes,  and  blasphemy, 
apart)  the  petits  soupers  of  Potsdam  might  be  not  inaptly 
compared  to  the  noctes  cosrueque  deiim  enacted  of  old  on 
Mount  Palatine. 

But  I  do  not  believe  that  the  repugnance  of  Horace  to 
the  proposed  arrangement  had  its  origin  in  any  fear  of  stul- 
tifying his  inventive  powers,  or  dimmiag  his  poetic  percep- 
tions in  the  apprehended  drudgery  of  an  amanuensis.  Nei- 
ther, as  I  said  before,  do  I  concur  in  the  supposition  that 
downright  indolence — arrant  sloth — kept  him  in  such  habi- 
tual thraldom  that  he  could  not  muster  energy  sufficient  for 
undertaking  the  functions  of  secretary.  To  vindicate  him 
from  the  charge  of  yielding  to  imbecile  lethargy,  of  suc- 
cumbing in  utter  incapability  of  aU  strenuous  effort,  need  I 
recall  the  historical  fact  of  his  having  been  selected  to  take 
command  of  a  regiment  in  perilous  times,  days  of  iron 
exertion  ? 

"  Clim  mihipareret  legio  Romana  tribuno." 
Sat.  i.  6. 

Ifeed  I  instance  the  further  proof  of  his  business  habits  and 
worldly  capacity,  afforded  us  by  the  well-authenticated  cir- 
cumstance of  his  having  held,  and  duly  discharged,  the 
important  office  of  commissioner  of  the  public  revenue 
{scriba  quastorius),  somewhat  equivalent  to  the  attributions 
which,  in  a  subsequent  age,  were  deemed  the  fittest  to  occupy 
the  abilities  of  Eobeet  Btjeits,  "poet  and  exciseman" — (not 
to  speak  of  one  "Wordsworth,  distributor  of  stamps  in  Cum- 
berland) ?  Need  I  observe,  in  corroboration  of  aU.  the  other 
evidences  which  prove  his  willingness  to  work,  that  he  at 
one  time  of  his  life  went  through  the  most  wearisome  and 
laborious  of  all  the  hard  tasks  to  which  flesh  is  heir — the 
crowning  drudgery  of  all  human  toils — that  of  earning  hia 
bread  by  scribblement  and  versemongery  ? 

"  Paupertas  impiilit  audax 
Ut  versus  facerem." 

The  gods,  when  they  hate  a  man  with  uncommon  abhorrence. 


444  FATHEE   PEOri's    EELIQUES. 

are  said  to  drive  him  to  the  profession  of  schoolmaster :  but 
a  pedagogue  may  "  go  further"  into  the  depths  of  misery, 
and  "  fare  worse,"  should  he  be  tempted  to  worry  his  brains 
(roil  vouii)  in  gathering  intellectual  samphire — 

"  Dreadful  trade !" 

This  is  the  true  reading  of  a  fragmentary  passage  from  Eu- 
ripides, which  is  often  misquoted  : 

Orav  Se  Aaifiiov  avSpi  irpoavvrj  KUica 
Tov  vow  etkatpe  npuirov. 

Ineertee  Tray.,  puil.  by  Baenes. 

"What  our  poet  endured  in  passing  through  that  expiatory 
stage  of  his  chequered  existence  we  can  only  conjecture,  as 
he  barely  alludes  to  it.  He  had  long  since  arrived  at  the 
enjoyment  of  a  moderate  competence,  and  if  he  still  courted 
the  Muses  and  indulged  "  in  numbers,"  it  was  (like  Pope) 

"  Because  the  numbers  came." 

Having  thus  fully  acquitted  Horace  of  a  propensity  to 
idleness,  it  is  time  to  state  my  own  view  of  the  cause  which 
operated  in  producing  the  rejection  of  so  tempting  an  offer 
as  that  conveyed  by  letter  to  the  poet,  "  from  the  highest 
quarter,"  through  the  instrumentality  of  Maecenas.  Fully 
to  understand  the  delicacy  of  mind  and  the  sensitive  feelings 
of  honour  he  evinced  on  this  occasion,  it  is  perhaps  expe- 
dient to  recapitulate  anterior  occurrences. 

Horace,  by  the  mere  circumstance  of  birth,  could  scarcely 
claim  admittance  into  what  we  call  the  middle  class  of  so- 
ciety.* His  father  was  a  freedman  of  Pompex's  house, 
and,  on  his  emancipation  from  service  in  that  distinguished 
family,  had  set  himself  up  in  trade  as  a  crier,  or  collector,  at 
public  auctions :  a  social  position,  need  I  add,  far  from 
equalling  the  splendid  rank  held  in  modern  times  by  George 
Eobins  of  Covent  G-arden.  He  was,  however,  an  old  man 
of  considerable  sagacity ;  and  to  him,  much  pondering  on 
the  unsettled  state  of  the  political  horizon,  there  appeared 
no  reasbn  why  he  should  not  look  out  for  the  chances  of 

*  He  was  not  ashamed  to  own  it : 

"  Ego  pauperum  sanguis  parentum." — Ode  ii.  20,  6. 


THE    SONas    or   HOEACE.  4-15 

raising  up  his  dynasty  in  the  midst  of  the  coming  confusion. 
Wherefore  to  the  education  of  his  only  son,  Flaccus— rather 
a  smart  boy  for  his  age — he  devoted  all  his  earnings  and 
energies,  so  as  to  fit  him  for  the  very  highest  functions  of 
the  state,  should  fortune  turn  favourable.  He  accordingly 
sent  him  to  the  tip-top  school  of  the  day — the  Eton  or  Har^ 
row  of  Eome,  kept  by  one  Orbilius  "  for  a  select  number  of 
the  young  nobility  and  gentry."  Nor  has  Horace  omitted 
gratefully  to  record  the  pains  and  trouble  which  the  worthy 
principal  of  this  academy  bestowed  on  hi^  studies  ;  though 
he  jocosely  applies  to  him  now  and  then  the  endearing  epi- 
thet of  ''piagosus,"  and  is  supposed  by  the  German  philolo- 
gist, Wolfi",  to  have  drawn  his  portrait  in  the  well-known 
lines  about  Death : 

"  Nee  parcit  imbellis  juventse 

Poplitibus,  timidove  tergo." — Lib.  iii.  ode  ii. 

Having  exhausted,  at  the  age  of  twenty,  all  the  stock  of 
iaformation  possessed  by  0/-bilitls,  his  excellent  father,  be- 
grudging no  expense,  and  securely  calculating  on  a  full  re- 
turn for  the  capital  invested  in  |o  hopeful  a  son,  now  sent 
liim  to  Athens,  where  Philosophy  still  sauntered  in  the 
shady  walks  of  Academus,  and  Wisdom  yet  held  forth  from 
the  porch  of  Zeno.  Here  was  congregated  all  the  young 
blood  of  Eome ;  the  promising  scions  of  every  noble  house 
were  allowed  to  grow  up  in  the  genial  sunshine  of  G-reece  : 
Athens  was  the  fashionable  university.  The  youthful  ac- 
quaintances formed  here  by  Horace  were,  naturally  enough, 
selected  from  the  partisans  and  supporters  of  Pompet  ;  sUch 
as  young  Plancus,  Messala,  Varus,  Bibulus,  Cicero  (son  of 
the  orator),  and  all  that  set.  What  a  delightful  and  interest- 
ing picture  it  were  to  contemplate  the  development,  in  these 
ardent  breasts,  of  genius,  passion,  patriotism,  and  all  the 
workings  of  the  Eoman  soul ;  to  note  the  aspirings  of  each 
gallant  spirit ;  to  watch  the  kindling  of  each  generous  emo- 
tion, fanned  into  a  blaze  by  the  recollections  of  Grecian 
renown  and  the  memorials  of  bygone  glory !  Nor  were  it  a 
less  curious  study  to  observe  the  contrast  of  Eoman  and 
Athenian  manners  in  this  refined  and  intellectual  city,  at 
once  frivolous  and  profound,  servile  and  enthusiastic ;  the 
]  arent  of  Pericles,  Phidias,  and  Phocion,  yet  nursing  uume- 


446  FATHEE  PBOri'S   EELIQTTilS. 

roua  and  genuine  specimens  of  the  sycophant  and  the  so- 
phist, to  all  appearance  equally  indigenous  in  the  soil  with 
the  hero  and  the  sage. 

Dwelling  with  fondness  on  this  young  colony  of  noble 
students,  imagination  revels  in  the  vision  of  their  joyous  and 
animated  iatercourse ;  fancy  follows  them  through  their  pur- 
suits of  science  or  of  pleasure,  their  reveries  of  Stoic  or 
Epicurean  philosophy — (for  Paul  had  not  yet  astounded  the 
Areopagus  with  the  announcement  of  Eevelation) — calm 
dreams,  not  unmixed  with  speculations  on  the  symptoms  of 
important  change,  already  but  too  manifest  in  the  political 
system  of  the  mother-country.  Of  a  sudden,  the  'itews  of 
Caesar's  murder  in  the  senate-house  burst  on  the  quiet  lei- 
sure of  these  pleasant  hours ;  and,  to  add  to  the  excitement, 
the  arrival  at  Athens  of  Beuttts  himself,  fresh  glowing  from 
the  deed  of  antique  stoicism,  communicated  an  irresistible 
impulse  to  the  cause,  and  sent  an  electric  shock  through  the 
veins  of  each  young  Pompeian.  Loud  was  the  acclaim,  and 
warm  the  welcome,  with  which  Horace  and  his  circle  hailed 
the  asserter  of  the  rights  and  privileges  of  the  Eoman  aris- 
tocracy :  for  this,  en  passant,  is  the  true  light  in  which  the 
hero  of  the  ides  of  March  should  be  considered  by  those 
who  wish  to  understand  the  actuating  motives  and  political 
views  of  that  period.  An  army  was  to  be  organised  in  aR 
haste ;  and  high  must  have  been  the  opinion  of  our  poet's 
personal  intrepidity  and  skill,  when  Brutus  did  not  hesitate 
to  place  him  at  once  at  the  head  of  a  eegiment  :  the  post 
of  "military  tribune"  being  equivalent  to  the  functions  of 
colonel  in  our  modern  army-lists. 

Here,  then,  we  have  the  pupil  of  the  "polu-flog-boyo" 
Orbilius,  gallantly  accoutred,  unflinchingly  erect  in  the  van 
of  a  LEGION,  forming  one  of  the  "staff"  in  an  army  of 
100,000  men,  who  were  soon  to  meet  an  equal  number  on 
the  disastrous  plains  of  Philippi.  It  was  the  last  effort  of 
the  expiring  constitution ;  the  last  bold  stand  made  by  the 
confederated  nobility,  the  Cavaliers  of  Rome,  against  the 
odious  idol  of  Democracy  embodied  m  the  Triumvirate. 
Several  years  subsequently,  in  a  drinking-song  alluding  to 
this  battle,  he  charges  himself  with  the  basest  cowardice ; 
describing  his  conduct  as  that  of  a  runaway,  who  flung 
knapsack,  belt,  and  buckler  to  be  foremost  in  the  flight 


THE   SONGS   or   HOEACE.  44,7 

when  sauve  qui  pent  was  the  cry.  But  we  may  safely  look 
on  the  avowal  as  merely  one  of  mock  modesty,  meant  to  be 
taken  cum  grano  salts;  especially  as  the  bacchanalian  song 
in  question  was  addressed  to  one  of  the  young  Pompexs 
(Pomp.  €rrosph.),  before  whom  he  would  be  loath  to  stultify 
or  stigmatise  himself  by  such  a  statement,  if  intended  to  be 
taken  literally.  We  may  confidently  assert,  in  the  absence 
of  every  other  testimony  but  his  own,  that  he  behaved  with 
proper  courage  on  the  occasion ;  and  for  this  reason,  viz.  no 
one  Ukes  to  joke  on  matters  in  which  he  is  conscious  of  defi- 
ciency. Joe  Hume,  for  instance,  never  ventures  a  witticism 
on  the  Greek  loan. 

The  results  of  the  campaign  are  well  known.  BErTtrs 
made  away  with  himself  with  stoic  consistency ;  but  a  num- 
ber of  his  lieutenants — Bibulus,  his  brother-in-law,  Mes- 
SALA,  Planctjs,  and  many  others,  with  14,000  of  the  troops, 
capitulated,  and  made  their  submission  to  the  triumvirs.  A 
few  years  after,  Messala  fought  at  Actium,  under  the  banner 
of  Octavius,  and  is  reported  to  have  exclaimed  in  the  hearing 
of  Antony's  antagonist,  "  li  is  ever  my  destiny  to  hear  arms 
at  the  side  on  which  justice  and  honour  are  arrayed."  A  saying 
equally  indicative  of  Messala's  free-spoken  intrepidity,  and 
the  tolerating  high-mindedness  of  the  emperor  who  could 
listen  without  chiding  or  displeasure. 

Horace  followed  the  example  of  those  whom  he  had  known 
at  Athens  in  the  intimacy  of  early  youth,  when  attachments 
are  strongest,  and  the  ties  of  indissoluble  friendship  are 
most  effectually  formed.  But  in  this  tacit  adhesion  to 
the  new  order  of  things,  old  feelings  and  long-cherished  opi- 
nions were  not  readily  got  rid  of.  The  Jacobites  could  not 
yet  divest  themselves  of  a  secret  antipathy  to  the  house  of 
Hanover.  There  still  existed,  among  most  of  them,  a  sort 
of  sulky  reluctance  to  fraternise  with  the  government,  or 
accept  its  favour,  or  incur  any  obligation  irreconcilable  with 
the  proud  susceptibility  of  patrician  independence. 

It  becomes  obvious,  from  this  brief  eoeposd,  that  for  Horace 
to  accept  a  situation  in  the  household  of  Augustus,  would 
be  tantamount  on  his  part  to  a  complete  apostacy  from  all 
his  old  familiar  friendship,  and  a  formal  renunciation  of  all 
acquaintanceship  among  the  numerous  surviving  partisans 
of  Pompey.    Every  one  who  recollects  the  abuse  poured  out 


448  PATHEE  peotjt's  eeliqites. 

on  Burke  (in  his  capacity  of  government-pensioner),  from 
the  foul  organs  of  Holland  House,  will  understand  the  an- 
noyance to  which  our  poet  would  have  subjected  himself, 
had  he  yielded  to  the  proposal  of  the  emperor.  Besides,  he 
possessed  a  becoming  share  of  national  pride ;  and  was  un- 
willing to  barter  the  free  sentiments  of  his  mind,  and  their 
honest  expression,  for  emoluments  and  functions  which 
would  give  to  any  support  his  writings  might  afford  the 
established  dynasty  a  semblance  of  venality,  stamping  him 
as  a  mere  mercenary  character.  The  friend"ship  of  Maecenas 
had  procured  for  him  the  restoration  of  some  confiscated 
property  which  his  father  had  acquired,  but  which  had  be- 
come forfeited  by  the  part  he  had  taken  in  the  civil  war : 
this  was  the  "  Sabine  farm  "  Presents  and  valuable  bene- 
factions had  flowed  on  him  from  the  same  mimificent  source, 
but  perfect  equality  and  reciprocal  esteem  were  the  terms 
on  which  the  patron  and  poet  lived  towards  each  other. 
No  wonder,  then,  that  the  letter  of  Augustus  faiLed  to  se- 
duce him  from  the  table  of  Maecenas,  on  the  Esquiline  Hill, 
to  a  secretary's  duties,  and  accompanying  golden  shackles, 
on  Mount  Palatine. 

Such  is  the  simple  explanation  of  an  otherwise  very  ex- 
traordinary passage  in  the  life  of  Horace.  Viewed  in  this 
light,  his  reluctance  would  appear  perfectly  justifiable,  and 
would  seem  to  evince  sound  judgment,  as  well  as  a  delicate 
sense  of  honour.  I  happen  to  have  some  very  particular 
reasons,  which  it  is  unnecessary  to  specify,  for  dwelling  on 
the  conduct  here  described ;  and  having,  I  trust,  put  the 
matter  in  its  proper  light,  I  now  return  to  my  hermeneutic 
labours. 

We  are  informed  by  Steabo  (lib.  xvi.),  that  in  the  year 
730  r.c,  the  emperor  decided  on  sending  out  an  army,  un- 
der the  command  of  Galltjs,  to  conquer  Arabia  Felix,  the 
"  land  of  Hus."  This  country,  by  all  accounts,  sacred  and 
profane  (see  Isaiah,  cap.  Ix.,  et  passim),  seems  to  have  been 
celebrated  for  its  treasure  and  renowned  for  its  luxury, 
though  very  little  traces  remained  a  few  centuries  after  of 
either  riches  or  civilization :  at  the  present  day  it  is  literally 
"as  poor  as  Job"  Such,  however,  were  the  ideas  enter- 
tained at  Borne  of  this  El  Dorado  of  the  East,  that  thousands 
enrolled  themselves  under  the  standard  of  Gtallits,  in  the 


THE    SONGS   OP   HOEACE. 


449 


hopes  of  making  a,  rapid  fortune  from  the  spoils  of  the 
Arabs.  '  The  expedition  proved  a  -wretched  failure.  One 
Icoirs,  however,  was  among  the  deluded  speculators,  who 
joined  it  through  sheer  eagerness  for  pillage :  he  sold  a 
capital  law-library,  to  purchase  an  outfit  and  a  commission 
in  the  newly-raised  regiments.  His  abandonment  of  profes- 
sional pursuits  for  a  military  engagement?  was  the  laughter 
of  all  Eome,  and  Horace  heartily  enjoyed  the  general  merri- 
ment. Such  was  the  occasion  which  provoked  the  following 
witty  and  polished  remonstrance,  addressed  to  the  warlike 
lawyer : 

Ode  XXTX. — the  sage  ttjened  soldibb. 

AlE — "  One  bumper  at  parting.'" 


AD  locnrM. 

The  trophies  of  war,  and  the  plunder, 

Have  fired  a  pliilosopher's  hreast — 
So,  IcciuB,  you  march  (mid  the  wonder 

Of  all)  for  Arabia  the  blest. 
IhiU  sure,  when  'tis  told  to  the  Persian, 

That  you  have  abandoned  your  home, 
He'U  feel  the  full  force  of  coercion. 

And  striie  to  the  banners  of  Kome ! 

What  chief  shall  you  vanquish  and  fetter  ? 

What  captive  shall  call  you  her  lord  f 
How  soon  may  the  maiden  forget  her 

Betorothfed,  hewn  down  by  your  sword  ? 
What  striphng  has  fancy  appointed, 

From  all  that  their  palaces  hold. 
To  serve  you  with  ringlets  anointed, 

And  hand  you  the  goblet  of  gold  ? 

His  arts  to  your  pastime  contribute. 

His  foreign  accompUshments  shew, 
And,  taught  by  his  parent,  exhibit 

His  dexterous  use  of  the  bow. — 
Who  doubts  that  the  Tiber,  in  choler, 

May,  bursting  all  barriers  and  bars. 
Plow  back  to  its  source,  when  a  scholar 

Deserts  to  the  standard  of  Mars  ? 

When  you,  the  reserved  and  the  prudent. 
Whom  Socrates  hoped  to  engage. 

Can  merge  in  the  soldjer  the  student, 
And  mar  thua  an  embryo  sage — 


loci,  beatis  nunc 
Arabum  invides 
Grazis,  et  aorem 
MUitiam  paras 
Non  ante  diviotis 


Eegibus,  hor- 
ribUique  Medo 

Nectis  catenas. 
Quse  tibi  virginum, 
Sponso  neoato, 
Barbara  serviet  ? 
Puer  quis  ex  aul4 
Capillis 
Ad  oyathum 
Statuetur  unctis, 

Boctus  sagittas 
Tendere  Sericas 
Arcu  paterno  ? 
Quis  neget  arduis 
Pronos  relabi 


I  rivos 
Montibus,  et 
Tiberim  riverti, 

Quum  tu  coemptos 
TJndique  nobiles 
Libros  Panseti, 
Socraticam  et  domum 
G   G 


iSO  LATHEE  peout's  EEL;5(}xri;s. 

Bid  the  Tisions  of  Bcience  to  vanish,  Mutare  loricis 
And  barter  yon  erudite  hoard  Iberis, 

Of  volumes  from  Greece  for  a  Spanish  PoUicitus 

Cuirass,  and  the  pen  for  a  sword  ?  Meliora,  tendis  ? 

The  "iSpamsA"  cuirass  would  seem  to  indicate  that  the 
peninsula  was,  so  far  back  as  the  Augustan  age,  renowned 
for  its  iron  manufactures.  The  blades  of  Toledo  kept  up, 
during  the  middle  ages,  the  credit  of  Spain  for  industry  and 
skill  in  this  department.  Likewise,  in  the  craft  of  shoemak- 
ing,  the  town  of  Cordova  shone  pre-eminent :  nor  did  the 
hero  of  that  ilk,  Q-onsalve  de  Cordoue,  confer  on  it  greater 
celebrity  than  its  leathern  glories ;  as  the  English  word 
cordwainer,  and  the  Prench  term,  cordonnier,  still  testify. 
In  an  old  MS.  of  the  King's  Library,  Paris  (marked  Q.),  a 
monkish  scholiast  has  made  a  marginal  observation  on  this 
ode  to  Iccius,  which  is  highly  characteristic  of  cloister  cri- 
ticism : — "  Horatius  rept-ehendit  quemdam  qui  sua  CLEEICALIA 
OEFICTA  mutat  pro  militaribus  armis  :" — a  clerk  who  could  seU 
his  "  office-book,"  or  breviary,  for  a  suit  of  armour,  was  as- 
suredly a  fit  subject  for  the  poet's  animadversion.  It  is  to 
be  regretted  that  the  same  worthy  commentator  did  not 
continue  his  glossary  throughout ;  as,  for  instance,  what 
might  he  not  discover  in  the  next  morceau  ? 

Ode  XXX. — the  dedication  of  gltceea's  chapel. 

AlE— "  Ihe  Boyne  water." 

AD  VEKSBESt. 

O  Venus !  Queen  of  Cyprus  isle,  O  Venus !  Eegina 

Of  Paphos  and  of  G-nidus,  Ghiidi,  Paphique 

Hie  from  thy  favourite  haunts  awhile,  Speme  dUectam 

And  make  abode  amid  us ;  Cypron,  et  vocantis 

Glycera's  altar  for  thee  smokes,  Thure  te  multo 

With  frankincense  sweet-smeUing —  Glycerae 

Thee,  while  the  charming  maid  invokes,  Decoram 

Hie  to  her  lovely  dwelliug  !  Ti-ansfer  in  ffidem. 

Let  yon  bright  Boy,  whose  hand  hath  grasped        Pervidus  tecum 

Love's  blazing  torch,  precede  thee,  Puer,  et  solutis 

While  gliding  on,  with  zone  unclasped,  Gratise  zonis 

The  sister  Graces  lead  thee  :  Propereutque 
Nor  be  thy  Nymph-attendants  missed  :  Nymphse 

Nor  can  it  harm  thy  court,  if  Et  pai-um  oorois 

Hebe  the  youthful  swell  thy  list,  Sine  te  Juventan, 

With  Mercury  the  sportive.  Merouriusque. 


THE    SON&S   or   HOBACE, 


451 


Honest  Dacier  says,  in  tis  own  dry  way  :  "  On  ne  doit  pas 
s'Stonner  qu'  Horace  mette  Mereufe  h  la  suite  de  Vinus  ;  cela 
s'explique  aisemer.t !" 

Augustus,  in  the  year  tt.o.  726,  according  to  Dion  (53. 1.), 
built  a  temple  to  Apollo  on  Mount  Palatiae,  to  which  he 
annexed  a  splendid  library,  much  spoken  of  under  subse- 
quent emperors.  The  ceremony  of  its  consecration  appears 
to  have  called  forth  as  many  "addresses"  as  the  re-opening 
of  Drury  Lane  Theatre,  in  the  heyday  of  Horace  Smith : 
one  only  has  been  preserved  to  posterity.  Here  is  the  Eo- 
man  laureate's  effusion,  replete  with  dignified  and  philo- 
sophic sentiments,  expressed  in  the  noblest  language  : 


Ode  XXXI. — the  dedication'  or  apollo's  temple. 

AlOTO  AB  TT.O.  726. 

Arw. — "  Lesbia  hath  a  beaming  eye." 

AD  APOILINEM. 


When  the  bard  in  worship,  low 

Bends  before  his  liege  Apollo, 
While  the  red  libations  flow 

!Prom  the  goblet's  golden  hollow, 
Can  ye  guess  his  orison  .' 

Can  it  be  for  "  grain"  he  asketh — 
Mellow  grain,  that  in  the  sun 

O'er  Sardinia's  bosom  hasketh  ? 

No,  no  !     The  fattest  herd  of  kine 

That  o'er  Calabrian  pasture  ranges — 
The  wealth  of  India's  richest  mine — 

The  ivory  of  the  distant  Granges-? 
No — these  be  not  the  poet's  dream — 

Nor  acres  broad  to  roam  at  large  in, 
Where  lazy  Liris,  silent  stream, 

Slow  undermines  the  meadow's  margin. 

The  landlord  of  a  wide  domain 

May  gather  his  Campanian  vintage, 
The  venturous  trader  count  his  gain — 

I  covet  not  his  rich  per  centage ; 
When  for  the  merchandise  he  sold 

He  gets  the  balance  he  relied  on. 
Pleased  let  him  toast,  in  cups  of  gold, 

"  Free  intercourse  with  Tyre  and  Sidon !" 


Quid  dedicatum 
Poscit  ApoUinem 
Vates  ?    Quid  orat, 
De  patera  novum 
IWdes  Hquorem  ? 
Non  opimse 
Sardinia 
Segetes  feracis, 

Non  eestnosse 
Grata  Calabrise 
Armenta,  non  aurum 
Aut  ebur  Indicum, 
Non  rura,  quse 
Liris  quietl 

Mordet  aquS, 
Tacitumus  atnnis. 

Premant  Calenam 
Falce,  quibus  dedit 
Portuna,  vitem ; 
Dives  et  aureis 
Mercator  ex- 
siccet  culullis 
Vina  SyrI, 
Beparata  meroe. 
Q  a2 


452 


TATHEE  PBOUT'S   BELIQUES. 


Each  year  upon  the  watery  waste, 

Let  him  provoke  the  fierce  Atlantic 
Pour  separate  times — ...  I  hare  no  taste 

For  speculation  so  gigantic. 
The  gods  are  kind,  the  gain  superb ; 

But,  haply,  I  can  feast  in  quiet 
On  salad  of  soma  homely  herb, 

On  frugal  fruit  and  olire  diet. 

Oh,  let  Latona's  son  but  please 

To  guarantee  me  health's  enjoyment! 
The  goods  he  gave — the  faculties 

Of  which  he  claims  the  fuU  employment ; 
Let  me  Hve  on  to  good  old  age, 

No  deed  of  shame  my  pUlow  haunting, 
Calm  to  the  last,  the  closing  stage 

Of  life : — nor  let  the  lyre  be  wanting ! 


Dis  carus  ipsis ; 
Qiiippe  tor  et  quater 
Anno  revisens 
^quor  Atlanticum 
Tmpime.     Me 
Pasount  oKvsB, 
Me  cichorea 
Levesque  malvse. 

Frui  paratis 

Et  valido  mihi, 

Latoe,  dones ; 

At,  precor,  integri 

Cum  mente, 

Nee  turpem  senectam 

Degere  nee 
Cithara  carentem. 


The  following  stanzas  would  seem  to  form  a  sort  of  intro- 
ductory flourish,  or  preamble  ;  and,  in  the  opinion  of  Pather 
Sanadon,  were  intended  as  a  musical  overture  to  the  Carmen 
Sceculare.  In  it,  Horace  calls  the  lyre  a  testudo  ;  and  tells 
us  that  Jupiter  never  dined  without  an  accompaniment  of 
the  kind  :  "Dapibus  supremi  grata  testudo  Jovis."  My  friend, 
William  Jerdan,  thinks,  nevertheless,  that  "Jine  lively  turtle" 
is  of  far  greater  acceptance,  on  festal  occasions,  than  a  mere 
empty  tortoise-shell. 

Ode  XXXII, 


Poscimur...Siquidvacuisubumbr^  Liberum,  et  Musas,  Veneremque, 
Lusimus  tecum,  quod  et  hunc  in  an-  et  illi 

num  Semper  hserentem  puerum  canebat, 

Vivat  et  plures,  age,  die  Latinum,      Et  Lycam  nigris  oculis,  nigroque 
Barbite,  carmen,  Crine  decoram. 


Lesbio  primum  modulate  civi ; 
Qui,  ferox  bello,  tamen  inter  arma, 
Sive  jactatam  religarat  udo 
Litore  navim, 


O  decus  Phcebi,  et  dapibus  supremi 
Grata  testudo  Jovis  !  o  laborum 
Dulce  lenimen,  mihi  cumque  salve 
Rite  vocanti ! 


AN  OCCASIOITAIi  PEEIUDE  Or  THE  POET  TO  HIS  SONGS. 
Aje — "  Dear  harp  of  my  country." 

They  have  called  for  a  lay  that  for  ages  abiding, 
Bids  Echo  its  music  through  years  to  prolong ; 

Then  wake,  Latin  lyre  I     Since  my  country  takes  pride  in 
Thy  wild  native  harmony,  wake  to  my  eong. 


THE    SON  as    OF   HOKACE.  453 

'Twas  AlcBeus,  a  minstrel  of  Greece,  who  first  married 
The  tones  of  the  Toiee  to  the  thrill  of  the  chord ; 

O'er  the  waves  of  the  sea  the  loved  symbol  he  carried, 
Nor  relinquished  the  lyre  though  he  wielded  the  sword. 

Gray  Bacchus,  the  Muses,  with  Cupid  he  chanted 

^-The  boy  who  accompanies  Venus  the  fair — 
And  he  told  o'er  again  how  for  Lyoa  he  panted, 

With  her  bonny  black  eyes  and  her  dark  flowing  hair. 

'Tis  the  pride  of  Apollo — ^he  glories  to  rank  it, 

Amid  his  bright  attributes,  foremost  of  all : 
'Tis  the  solace  of  life !     Even  Jove  to  his  banquet 

Invites  thee ! — 0  lyre !  ever  wake  to  my  call. 

I  do  not  admit  the  next  ode  to  be  genuine.  The  elegiac 
poet,  Tibullus,  to  whom  it  is  inscribed,  died  very  young 
(twenty-six)  ;  and,  besides,  was  too  great  a  favourite  of  the 
ladies  to  have  such  lines  as  these  addressed  to  him : 


Ode  XXXIII. 

AD  ALBrtTM  TIBULLTJIT. 

Albi,  ne  doleas,  Be  not  astonished,  dear  Tibullus, 

Plus  nimio  memor  That  fickle  women  jilt  and  gull  us ! 

Immitis  GUycerse,  Cease  to  write  "  elegies,"  bemoaning 

Neu  miserabiles  Glycera'a  falsehood — idly  groaning 

■  Deoantes  elegos,  That  thou  in  her  esteem  hast  sunk,  or 

Cur  tibi  j  anior  That  she  prefers  a  roaring  younker. 
Lsesi  proeniteat  fide,  &c.  K.  t.  X. 

I  consequently  dismiss  it  to  its  appropriate  place  amid 
the  Apocrypha. 

It  is  a  remarkable  fact,  though  overlooked  by  most  his- 
torians, that  the  "  Eeformation"  originated  in  a  clap  of 
thimder.  A  German  student  was  so  terrified  by  the  bolt 
(which  killed  his  comrade)  that  he  turned  monk,  and,  having 
had  originally  no  vocation  for  that  quiet  craft,  afterwards 
broke  out,  naturally  enough,  into  a  polemical  agitator.  Ho- 
race was  nearly  converted  by  the  same  electric  process  as 
Luther.    Ex.  gr.  : 


454 


FATHER  PEOTTT'S   EELIQTJES. 


Ode  XXXIV.— the  poet's  conteesiob-. 


AS   SEIPSTJM. 


Parous  Deorum 
Cultor  et  infrequena, 

Insanientis 
Dum  eapientise 
Consultus  eiTO,  nunc  retrorsum 
Vela  dare,  atque  iterare  cur- 
sus 

Cogor  reliotos. 
Namque  Diespiter, 

Igni  corusco 
Nubila  dividens 
Plerumque,perpurum  tonantes 
Egit     equos,     voluoremque 
currmn, 

Quo  bruta  tellus, 
Bt  vaga  flumina, 

Quo  Styx,  et  iuvisi 
Horrida  Taenari 
Sedes,  Atlantesque  finis 
Concutitur.       Valet   ima 


I,  whom  the  Gods  had  found  a  client, 
Rarely  with  pious  rites  compliant. 
At  Unbehef  disposed  to  nibble, 
And  pleased   with  every  sophist  quib- 

ble- 
I,  who  had  deemed  great  Jove  a  phantom, 
Now  own  my  errors,  and  keoant  'em  ! 

Have  I  not  lived  of  late  to  witness, 
Athwart  a  sky  of  passing  brightness, 
The  God,  upon  his  oar  of  thunder, 
Cleave  the  calm  elements  asunder  ? 
And,  through  the  firmament  careering. 
Level  his  bolts  with  aim  unerring  ? 

Then  trembled  Earth  vrith  sudden 
shiver ; 

Then  quaked  with  fear  each  mount  and 
river ; 

Stunned  at  the  blow,  Hell  reeled  a  mi- 
nute. 

With  all  the  darksome  caves  within  it ;  summis 

And  Atlas  seemed  as  he  would  totter 

Beneath  his  load  of  land  and  water  ! 

Yes !  of  a  G-od  I  hail  the  guidance ;  Mutare,  et  insignem 

The  proud   are   humbled  at  his   bid-  Attenuat  Deua, 

dance ;  Obscura  promens. 

Fortune,  his  handmaid,  now  uplifting  Hiue  apioem  rapax 

Monarohs,  and  now  the  sceptre  shifting,  Fortuna  cum  stridore  acuto 

With  equal  proof  his  power  evinces,  Sustulit,  hie  posuisse  gau- 

Whether  she  raise  or  ruin  Princes.  det. 

Here  is  a  specimen  of  the  poet's  more  elevated  mamier — , 
a  sample  of  his  grander  style  of  composition.  He  invokes 
the  smile  of  Fortune  on  two  impending  enterprises  of  the 
emperor:  one  an  expedition  to  Arabia,  composed  of  new 
recruits  (concerning  which,  see  the  first  ode  of  this  decade)  ; 
and,  secondly,  an  excursion  to  Britain.  Napoleon  would 
call  the  first,  "  I'ArmSe  de  V  Orient ;"  and  the  other,  "  I'Armie 
d' dngleterre."  Both  were  intended  rather  to  divert  public 
attention  from  politics  than  for  real  conq[uest.  Horace, 
however,  appears  quite  in  earnest. 


THE    SONGS    OF    HOEACE. 


455 


Ode  XXXV. — an  addeess  to  roEirNE. 


AD  POETUNAM. 


Fortune,  whose  pillared  temple  crowns 

Cape  Antium's  jutting  cliff, 
Whose   smiles   confer    success,   whose 
frowns 

Can  change  our  triumphs  brief 
To  funerals— for  life  both  lie  at 
The  mercy  of  thy  sovereign  fiat. 

Thee,  Goddess !  in  his  fervent  prayers, 

Fondly  the  frugal  farmer  courts ; 
The  mariner,  before  he  dares 

Unmoor  his  hart,  to  thf.e  resorts— 
That  thy  kind  favour  may  continue, 
To  bless  his  voyage  to  Bithyuia. 

Eude    Dacia's    clans,   wild    Scythia's 
hordes — 

Abroad — at  home — all  worship  thee! 
And  mothers  of  barbarian  Lords, 

And  purpled  tyrants,  bend  the  knee 
Before  thy  shrine,  O  Maid !  who  seemest 
To  rule  mankind  with  power  supremest. 

Lest  THOU  their  statue's  pillai-ed  pride  Injurioso 

Dash  to  the  dust  with  scornful  foot —  Ne  pede  proruas 

Lest  Tumult,  bent  on  regicide,  Stantem  columnam  ; 

Their  ancient  dynasty  uproot ;  Neu  populus  frequeus 

When  maddened  crowds,  with  Fiends  Ad  arma  cessantes,  ad  arma 

to  lead  'em,                *  Concitet,  imperjumque  frau- 

Wreck  empires  in  the  name  oi  freedom  !  gat. 

Te  semper  anteifc 
Sffiva  Neoessitas, 
Olavos  trabales 
Et  cuneos  manu 
Grcstans  aena,  nee  severus 
Uncus    abest     Hquidumque 
plumbum. 


O  Diva,  GIratum 
QuiB  regis  Antium, 
Preesens  vel  imo 
ToUere  de  gradu 
Mortale  corpus,  vel  superbos 
Vertere  fiineribus  triumphos, 

Te  pauper  ambit 
SoUicita  preoe 

Euris  oolonus  j 
Te  dominam  sequoris, 
Quicumque  Bithyna  lacessit 
Carpathium  pelagus  carina; 

Te  Dacus  asper, 
Te  profugi  Scythse, 

Urbesque,  geutesque, 
Et  Latium  ferox, 
Eegumque  matres  barbarorum, 
et 
Purpurei  metuuut  fyranni, 


Thee  stern  Necessity  leads  on, 
Loaded  with  attributes  of  awe ! 

And  grasping,  grim  automaton. 
Bronze  wedges  in  his  iron  claw, 

Prepared  with  sledge  to  drive  the  bolt  in. 

And  seal  it  fast  with  lead  that's  molten. 


TheeHope  adores. — In  snow-white  vest, 

Fidelity  (though  seldom  found) 
Clings  to  her  liege,  and  loves  him  best. 
When  dangers  threat  and  ills  sur- 
round j 
Prizing  him  poor,  despoiled,  imprisoned. 
More  than  with  gold  and  gems  bediz- 
ened. 


Te  Spes,  et  albo 
Eara  Fides  colit 
Velata  panno, 
Nee  eomitem  abnegat, 
Utcumque  mutata  potentes 
Teste  domos  inimica  linquis. 


456 


PATHEE  PEOTJT  S   EELIQTTES. 


At  vulgus  infidum 
Et  meretrix  retro 
Perjiira  cedit ; 
Diffugiunt  cadis 
Cum  fsece  siccatis  amici, 
Ferre  jugiim  pariter  dolosi. 

Hnttsitropi^e. 

Serves  iturum 

Csesarem  in  ultimos 

Orbis  Britannos, 

Et  juvenuin  recens 

Examen  Eois  timendum 

Partibus,  Ooeanoque  rabro. 


Not  so  the  fictle  crowd ! — Not  so 

■  The  purchased  Beauty,  sure  to  fly 
Where  all  our  boon  companions  go, 
Soon  as  the  cask  of  joy  runs  dry ; 
Bound  us   the   Spring    and    Summer 

brought  'em — 
They  leave  us  at  the  close  of  Autumn  ! 

Goddess  !  defend,  from  dole  and  harm, 

Csesar,  who  speeds  to  Britain's  camp! 

And  waft,  of  Rome's  glad  youth,  the 

swarm 

Safe  to  where  first  Apollo's  lamp 

Shines  in  the  East — the  brave  whose 

fate  is 
To  war  upon  thy  banks,  Euphrates  ! 

OK !  let  our  country's  tears  expunge 
From  history's  page  those  years  ab- 
horr'd, 
When   Roman    hands    could   reckless 
plunge, 
Deep  in  a  brother's  heart,  the  sword; 
When  GruUt  stalked  forth,  with  aspect 

hideous, 
With  every  crime  and  deed  perfidious ; 

When  Sacrilege  and  Frenzy  urged 

To  violate  each  hallowed  fane. — 
Oh !  that  our  falchions  were  reforged, 

And  purified  from  sin  and  shame ; — 
Then — turned  against  th'  Assyrian  foe- 
man — 
Baptised  in  exploits  truly  Eoman ! 

The  unaffected  simplicity  of  the  next  song,  and  the  kindly 
warmth  of  affection  it  bespeaks,  are  highly  creditable  to  the 
poet's  heart.  The  "  gentle  Lamia"  has  already  figured  in 
this  series,*  but  nothing  is  known  of  "  Numida." 


Eheu  !  cioatricum 
Et  sceleris  pudet 

Pratrumque.    Quid  nos 
Dura  refugimus 
^tas  ?    Quid  intactum  nefasti 
Liquimus  ?     Unde  manum 
juventus 


Metu  Deorum 
Continuit  ?     Quibus 

Pepercit  aris  ? 
O  utinam  nova 
Incude  defingas  retusum  in 
Massagetas   Arabasque  fer- 
rum! 


Ode  XXXVI. — a  welcome  to  ntjmida, 
AD  plotittm:  numidam:. 

Bum  frankincense !  blow  fife  Et  thure  et  fidibus  juvat 

A  merry  note ! — and  quick  devote  Placare,  ot  vituli 

A  victim  to  the  knife,  Sanguine  debito 

*  See  last  decade. 


THE    SONGS   or   HOBACl!. 


457 


To  thank  the  guardian  powers 
Who  led  from  Spain — home  onee  again, 
Tliis  gallant  friend  of  ours. 

Dear  to  ns  all ;  yet  one 
Can  fairly  boast — his  friendship  most : 
Oh,  him  he  doats  upon  ! 

The  gentle  Lamia,  whom. 
Long  used  toshare — each  sohoolday  care, 
He  loved  in  boyhood's  bloom. 

One  day  on  both  conferred 
The  garb  of  men — this  day,  again. 
Let  a  "  white  chalk"  record. 

Then  send  the  wine-jar  round. 
And  blithely  keep — the  "  Saliau"  stop 
With  many  a  mirthful  bound. 


Custodes  Numidse  Deos, 
Qui  nunc,  Hesperii 
Sospes  ah  ultim^ 

Caris  multa  sodalibus, 
Nulli  plura  tamen 
Dividit  oscula, 

Quam  dulci  Lamiee,  memor 
Aete  nou  alio 
Eege  puertise, 

Mutatceqiie  simul  togse. 
Creasi  ne  careat 
Pulohra  dies  nota ; 

Neupromptse  modus  amphorae, 
Neu  morem  in  Salium 
Sit  requies  pedum. 


We  now  come  to  a  political  squib  of  loud  Mat  and  daz- 
zling brilliancy.  How  he  exults  in  the  downfall  of  an  an- 
tinational  confederacy  !  How  he  revels  in  the  dastard  An- 
tony's discomfiture  !  The  cowardice  and  efieminacy  of  the 
latter  are  not  positively  described,  but  cannot  fail  to  strike 
us  at  once  (as  they  did  the  contemporary  public),  by  the 
forcible  contrast  vnth  Cleopatra's  intrepidity.  This  ill-fated 
queen  receives  due  honour  from  the  poet,  who  shews  that 
he  can  appreciate  a  daring  spirit  even  in  an  enemy.  To  my 
own  version  I  have  annexed  Fictor  Hugo's  cfelebrated  Prench 
translation,  as  sung  at  the  Porte  St.  Martin  with  rapturous 
applause,  in  his  Cleopatre,  TragSdie,  par  VAuteur  de  Marie 
Tudor. 


Ode  XXXVII. — the  defeat  op  cieopatea. 

BALLAD. 


A  JOTITL 


THE  BALLAD. 

Now.  comrades,  drink 
Full  bumpers,  undiluted ! 

Now,  dancers,  link 
Firm  hands,  and  freely  foot  it  I 

Now  let  the  priests, 
Mindful  of  Numa's  ritual, 

Spread  victim-feasts, 
And  keep  the  rites  habitual  1 

'Till  now,  'twas  wrong 
T'  unlock  th'  ancestral  cellar, 

Where  dormant  long 
Bacchus  remained  a  dweller; 


"AD  SO0ALES." 

Nunc  est  bibendum. 
Nunc  pede  libero 
Pulsanda  tellus. 
Nunc  SaliaribuB 
Ornare  pulvinar 
Deorum 
Tempus  erat 
Dapihus,  sodales ! 

Antehac  nefas 
Depromere  Csecubum 
Cellus  avitis, 
Dum  Capitolio 


AIR  DE  "  MALBROOK. 

Or  siisl  huvoriB 

Plein  varre  ; 
DansonalJrapptms 

La  terre, 
De  flfiuTS  orncms, 

Pour  plaire 
Aux  DievXf  toils  nos 
Autels.  (fiiS') 

Sors  I  Kbre  et  sans 

Entrave, 
Sacchus,  qui  dana 

Tacave 


458 


FATHEB   PBOTTT's   EELIQITES. 


While  Egypt's  qneen 
Vflwed  to  erase  (fond  woman!) 

Rome's  walls,  and  e'en 
The  very  name  of  Roman  1 

Girt  with  a  band 
Of  craven-hearted  minions, 

Her  march  she  planned 
Through  Csesar's  broad  dominions  I 

With  visions  sweet 
Of  coming  conquest  flattered; 

When,  Id!  her  fleet 
Agrippa  fired  and  scattered  I 

While  Caesar  left 

Nor  time  nor  space  to  rally ; 
Of  all  bereft 

—All,  save  a  single  galley- 
Fain  to  escape 

When  fate  and  friends  forsook  her. 
Of  Egypt's  grape 

She  quaffed  the  maddening  liquor; 

And  turned  her  back 
On  Italy's  fair  region  ;— 

Wh<'n  soars  the  hawk 
So  flies  the  timid  pigeon ; 

So  flies  the  hare, 
Pursued  by  Scythia's  hunter. 

O'er  fallows  bare, 
Athwart  the  snows  of  winter. 

The  die  was  cast, 
And  chains  she  knew  t'await  her ;- 

Queen  to  the  last, 
She  spurned  the  foeman's  fetter; 

Nor  shelter  sought 
In  hidden  harbours  meanly; — 

Nor  feared  the  thought 
Of  death— but  met  it  queenly ! 

Untaught  to  bend, 
Calm  'mid  a  tottering  palace— 

'Mid  scenes  that  rend 
Weak  woman's  bosom,  callous — 

Her  arm  could  grasp 
The  writhing  snake  ;  nor  waver. 

While  of  the  asp 
It  drank  the  venomed  slaver  I 

Grim  Death  unawed 
She  hailed  with  secret  rapture. 

Glad  to  defraud 
Rome's  galleys  of  a  capture  I 

And,  haughty  dame. 
Scorning  to  live,  the  agent 

Of  regal  shame, 
To  grace  a  Roman  pageant  I 


Regina 
Demerites  ruinaa 

Funus  et 
Imperio  parabat, 

Contaminato 
Cum  grege  turpium 
Morbo  virorum, 
Quidlibet  impotens 
Sperare,  fortunA- 
qiie  dulci 
Ebria.     Sed 
Minuit  furorem 

Vix  una  sospes 
Navis  ab  ignibus,. 
Mentemque  lympha- 
tam  Mareotico 

Redegit  in 
VetoB  timores 

Ciesar,  ab 
Italia  Tolantem 

Remis  adurgens, 
Accipiter  velut 
Molles  columbas, 
Aut  leporem  citus 

Venator  in 
Campis  nivalis 

UeemonisB, 
Daret  ut  cateais 

Fatale  monstrum; 

•  Quae  generosius 

I'erire  quEBvens 

Nee  muliebriter 

Expavit  ensem. 

Nee  latentes 

Classe  cit4 

Reparavit  eras. 

Ausa  et  jacentem 
Visere  regiam 
Vtiltu  sereno, 
Fortis  et  asperas 
Tractare  serpentes. 
Ut  atrum 
Corpore  com- 
biberet  venenum, 

Deliberata 
Morte  ferocior; 
Sffivis  Liburnis 
Scilicet  invidens 
Privata  deduci 
Superbo 
Nnn  humilis 
Mulier  triumpho. 


Langvis  deux  ansj 

Qu'  Octave 
Contre  Egypte  est  en 
guerre  [Ins^ 

D'un  vil  ramas 

Que  mene 
Sa  fiotte,  helas  I 

La  Reine 
27e  T?.vait  paa 

Quia  ptiine 
Le  quar't  lui 

resteraiU        (6m.) 

Sa  nef  au  vent 

8e  livre  ; 
Cesar  se  prend 

A  suivre  ; — 
Jille,  en  fuyant 

S'enivre 
Du  vin  des  lords  du 
NU.  {his.) 


Comme  un  vautour 

Deploye 
Son  aile  et  court 

Sa  proie, 
Cisar,  cejour 

D^.joye 

Sur  Voc4an 

voguait  t 


{bis.) 


Lots  elle  ft  part 

Proscrite, 
Fixe  un  regard 

Tadte 
Sur  son  poigruird, 

Et  quitte 
Tout  espoir  d^i- 

chapper,         bis,) 

Voit  mis  ft  bos 

Son  trdne, 
Sans  que  le  cos 

L"^  tonne  ; 
Sans  que  son  bras 

Frisonne 
Vn  serpent  y 

grimper  I       (bis.) 

Et  par  sa  mart 

Esquive 
jyentrer  au  port 

Captive  ; 
AiTisi  le  sort 

VouB  prive 
RoTnainsI  d'un  beau 
riffal  I  {bis.) 


Directions  for  supper  are  appropriately  given  in  the  con- 
cluding ode  of  the  book  :  they  are  short  and  significant.  I 
think  I  may  now  call  for  a  fresh  tumbler  myself.  Molly  I 
bring  me  the  "  materials .'" 


THE    SOKGS  OF   HOEACE  459 

Ode  XXXVIII. — last  ode  oe  book  the  eiest. 

AI)  MINISTEUM.      BIBECTIONS  FOE  STJPPEE. 

Slave !  for  my  feast,  in  humble  grot  Persicos  odi,  puer,  apparatus  ; 

Let  Persia's  pomps  be  all  forgot ;  Displicent  nexae  philyra  coro- 
With  twining  garlands  -worry  not  n£e : 

Thy  weary  fingers,  Mitte  seotari,  rosa  quo  locorum 
Nor  heed  in  what  secluded  spot  Sera  moretur. 

The  last  rose  lingers. 

Let  but  a  modest  myrtle-wreath,  Simplici  myrto  nihil  allabores 

In  graceful  guise,  our  temples  sheathe —  Sedulus  curse;  net  teministrum 

Nor  thou  nor  I  aught  else  herewith  Dedecet  myrtus,  neque  me  sub 

Can  want,  Pm  tliinking,  arcta 

Cupbearer  thou  ; — and  I,  beneath  Vite  bibentem. 

The  wine-tree  drinking. 


THE  SONGS  OF  HOEACE. 

DECADE    THE   EIETH. 

"  NIL  ADMIEAEI  prope  res  est  una  Numici 
Solaque  quje  possit  faoere  et  servare  beatum." 

Hoe.,  Lib.  I.,  Episl.  VI. 

"  '  Not  to  admiee  is  all  the  art  I  know 

To  fnake  'men  happy ^  and  to  keep  them  so* — 

Plain  truth,  dear  Murray,  needs  no  flowers  of  speech : 

So  take  it  in  the  very  words  of  Ceeeoh." 

Pope's  Epistle  to  Lord  Mansfield. 

"  But,  had  none  admired, 
Would  Pope  have  sung,  or  Hoeaob  been  inspired  ? . . . 
Gad !  I  must  say  X  ne'er  could  see  the  very 
Great  happiness  of  this  'NIL  ADMIEAEI.' " 

Bteon,  Juan,  Canto  V.,  st.  100  &  101. 

Ie  the  sentiment  sought  to  be  conveyed  hy  the  deepest 
moralist,  as  well  as  the  sweetest  songster  of  Eome,  be  cor- 
rectly given  "  in  the  words  of  Creech"  we  must  confess  our 
utter  inability  to  comprehend,  and  our  decided  repugnance 
to  adopt  it :  for,  in  the  catalogue  of  pleasurable  sensations 
which  help  to  make  life  endurable,  we  should  place  in  the 


460  PATHEE   PEOTjT'S   EELIQrES. 

very  highest  rank  that  delightful  and  exalted  feeling  which  in 
psychology  is  termed  admieation.  "We  hold  the  legitimate 
indulgence  of  that  faculty  to  constitute  a  most  refined 
species  of  intellectual  enjoyment — not  the  less  to  be  prized, 
for  that  the  objects  which  call  it  forth  happen  to  be  scarce, 
and  that  opportunities  are  seldom  afforded  of  yielding  up 
the  soul  to  its  delightful  influence.  Other  and  opposite 
emotions  can  be  felt  at  every  hand's  turn.  Take,  for  ex- 
ample, those  of  PITT  or  contempt.  Kt  objects  of  com- 
passion abound.  Laughtee,  also,  may  be  enjoyed  at  a 
cheap  rate.*  "  Boz  "  wields  (and  long  may  he  flourish  it !) 
an  indefatigable  pen ;  Eeeve  is  come  back ;  and  our  old 
favourite.  Brougham,  is  busy  bottling  up  a  rich  stock  of 
buffoonery  qu(B  mox  depromat  among  the  Lords.  But  admi- 
EATiON  bides  her  time  :  her  visits,  angelic  fashion,  are  few 
and  far  between.  Tet  is  her  presence  ever  sure  to  be  felt 
while  calm  philosophy,  pellucid  reason,  and  patriot  elo- 
quence, flow  from  the  lips  of  Ltndhttest. 

In  literature,  we  are  accused  of  being  over-fastidious  ;  for- 
asmuch as,  perhaps,  as  we  value  our  admiration  too  highly 
to  lavish  it  on  every  passing  scribbler.  The  North  American 
Review  is  here  peculiarly  amusing.  In  its  October  number, 
just  received,  and  now  lying  in  our  waste-paper  box,  much 
comical  indignation  is  vented  on  Oiitee  ToEKE,for  slighting 
a  poor  creature,  one  "  WiUis,"  who  some  time  ago  "  pe^cUled 
his  way  "  among  us,  and  has  been  since  forgotten.  All  we  can 
remember  about  the  man  was  his  publishing  what  he  called 
a  poem,  "  edited  "  by  "  Barry  Cornwall,"  a  fictitious  name, 
under  which  one  Proctor,  a  commissioner  of  lunacy  in  our 
courts,  thought  it  part  of  his  official  functions  to  usher  him 
into  notice.  We  did  not  advert  to  that  circumstance  at  the 
time,  or  we  should  have  taken  the  hiat,  and  adopted  towards 
him,  not  the  severity  of  justly  provoked  criticism,  but  the 
mild  indulgence  suited  to  his  case.  -  Por  we  did  not  require 
the  evidence  of  this  "  reviewer's  "  article,  to  convince  us  that 
rational  rebuke  is  wasted  when  the  mind  of  the  recipient  is 
unsound.  "We  are  glad,  however,  of  the  opportunity  af- 
forded us,  by  this  casual  reference  to  American  matters,  for 
placing  6m.  record  our  unfeigned  and  cordial  admiration  of 

*  Dickens  had  just  begun  his  Pickwick  Papers. 


THE    SONGS    OF   HOEACE.  461 

EDWiif  FoEEEST,  whom  night  after  night  we  have  seen  tread 
our  stage  after  a  fashion  which  none  but  the  disingenuous 
can  hesitate  to  admire  and  to  applaud. 

It  was  observed  of  Charlemain,  that  greatness  had  so 
mixed  itself  up  with  his  character,  that  it  eventually  com- 
penetrated  his  very  name,  till  magnificence  and  Charles  were 
blended  into  the  sound  of  Caelomagne.  The  sentiment  of 
ADMiEATidN  has  similarly  worked  itself  into  individual  no- 
menclature on  two  occasions :  viz.  in  the  case  of  St.  Gre- 
gory, "  Thaumaturge"  and  in  that  of  an  accomplished  cava- 
lier, who  burst  on  the  close  of  the  sixteenth  century  as  "  the 
admirable  Crichton."  To  the  story  of  that  gaUant  scholar 
we  have,  in  another  part  of  our  current  number,  taken  an 
opportunity  of  alluding  ;  and  having  therein,  as  we  think, 
fairly  plucked  out  the  heart  of  the  mystery,  we  shall  not 
here  stop  to  notice  a  book  which  will  probably  be  the  iiiiya. 
SavfjM  of  the  season. 

But  returning  to  the  "  words  of  Creech"  do  they  fairly 
give  the  meaning  of  Horace?  We  don' t  believe  it.  The 
plain  English  of  the  maxim  is,  "  Let  nothing  take  you  by 
surprise  ;"  and  its  practical  effect  would  merelj''  go  to  pre- 
serve the  equilibrium  of  the  mind  from  any  sudden  or  violent 
upset.  The  translation  of  Creech  affords  one  of  the  many 
instances  in  which  to  be  literal  is  to  misinterpret.  Old  Roger 
Bacon  attributes  the  subtle  fooleries  of  scholastic  wrangling 
which  arose  in  his  day  to  the  bad  Latin  versions  of  Aristotle. 
A  Grreek  term  was  Latinised  into  one  apparently  synonymous, 
and  the  metaphysical  niceties  of  the  original  vanished  in  the 
process.  Vulgus  studentium  asininat  circh  male  tandata 
are  the  words  in  which  he  of  the  brazen  head  ridicules  con- 
temporary disputation.  The  delicate  subtleties  of  poetical 
diction  are  still  more  evanescent ;  and  of  translations  which 
render  with  mere  verbal  fidelity,  it  may  be  said,  when  they 
appear  side  by  side  with  the  text,  that,  though  Venus  may 
preside  over  the  graceful  original,  the  lame  version  hobbles 
with  all  the  clumsiness  of  VrLCAN.  Such  was  the  idea  of  a 
French  wit;  on  perusing  Abbe  Pdlegrin's  translation  of  our 
poet — 

"  L'on  devrait  (soit  dit  entre  nous) 
A  deux  divinites  offrir  les  deux  HoeaCES  : 
Le  latin  a  Venus  la  deese  des  graces, 
Bt  le  fran(;oi9  ...  a  son  ^poux." — La  Monnuye, 


462  TATHER  peotjt's  beltqtjes. 

In  a  Venetian  folio  edition,  published  by  the  celebrated 
Denis  Lambinus  (whose  style  of  writing  was  so  tedious,  that 
"  lambiner  "  became  Prench  for  "  to  loiter"),  there  are  some 
complimentary  verses  addressed  to  him,  which  he  has  taken 
care  to  print,  and  which  are  too  good  to  be  forgotten. 
Therein  Horace  is  represented  as  consulting  a  saga,  or  Eo- 
man  gipsy,  concerning  the  future  fate  of  his  works  ;  when, 
alluding  to  the  ophthalmic  aifection  under  which  he  is  known 
to  have  laboured,  the  prophetic  hag  maketh  the  vaticination 
following — 

Talia  respondit  mota  vates  anus  um^ — 
"  Dura  parens  genuit  te  lippum,  Flacoe ;  noyerca 
"  Durior  eripiet  mox  setas  lumen  utrumque, 
"  Nee  teipsum  agnosoes  neo  oognosceris  ab  ullo. 
"  A.t  tibi  Lamtbini  raptum  collyria  lumen 
"  Inlita  restitueut :  clarusque  interprete  tanto 
"  Neo  lippus  nee  cseous  eris  sed  et  integer  ore." 

"Whereupon  Denis  triumphantly  exclaims  that  what  she  fore- 
told has  come  to  pass,  since,  by  the  operation  of  his  com- 
mentaries, such  additional  perspicuity  has  been  shed  over  the 
text,  as  to  have  materially  improved  the  poet's  eyesight — 
"  Verum  dixit  anus, — as)  sunt  collyeia  CHABiiB !" 

The  personal  infirmity  thus  alluded  to  had  procured  for 
the  Latin  lyrist  a  sobriquet  well-known  among  his  contempo- 
raries, viz.,  "the  weeping  Flaccus  :"  nor  can  we  refuse  the 
merit  of  ingenuity  to  him  who  could  make  so  unpoetical  an 
idea  the  groundwork  of  so  flattering  a  compliment.  It  is 
singular  enough  that  these  obscure  lines  should  have  sug- 
gested a  celebrated  epigram  :  for  when  Lefranc  de  Pompig- 
nan,  in  his  Poesies  SacrSes,  versified  the  Lamentations  of 
Jeremiah,  he  received  a  testimonial  exceedingly  analogous 
from  Voltaire — 

Scavez  tous  pourquoi  Jeremie,        Knowyewhy  Jeremy,tliatholyman, 

A  tant  pleur^  pendant  sa  vie  ?  Spent  aU.  his  days  in  lamenta- 

tions bitter? 

C'est  qu'en  prophete  U  prevoyait,     Prophetic  soul !  he  knew  that  Poin- 

Qu'im  jour  Lefranc  le  traduirait.  pignau 

One  day  would  bring  him  out  in ' 
Gallio  metre. 

That  the  labours  of  the  father  may  call  forth  a  similar 


THE    SONGS   or  HOEACE.  463 

congratulatory  effusion  is  more  than  we  dare  conjecture  in 
these  critical  times.  Tet  we  trust  that,  notwithstanding 
the  general  depreciation  of  aU  sorts  of  scrip,  with  exchequer 
bills  at  such  an  alarming  discount,  Prout  paper  may  be  still 
negociated. 

OLIVEE  YORKE. 

Regent  Street,  Nov.  20. 


Wtttergrasshill;  after  Vespers. 
A  FEW  years  previous  to  the  outbreak  of  civil  war  between 
Octavius  and  Marc  Antony,  the  poet  Horace  and  a  &reek 
professor  of  elocution  (Heliodorua)  received  an  intimation 
from  Maecenas  of  his  wish  to  enjoy  their  company,  on  a  trip 
connected  with  some  diplomatic  mission  (missi  mugnis  de 
rebus)  to  the  port  of  Benevento.  The  proposal  was  readily 
accepted  by  these  hommes  de  lettres,  who  accordingly  started 
from  Rome  toward  the  close  of  autumn,  anno  tr.c.  720. 
Their  intelligent  patron  had  appdiated  to  meet  them  at 
Anxue,  a  place  jbetter  knovni  by  its  more  musical  name  of 
Teeeacxna, — (two  popular  productions  contributing  to  its 
celebrity,  viz.  Horatii  Opera,  and  the  opera  of  i^'ra  i)z«woZo,) — 
whence,  having  received  an  important  accessionto  their  party, 
by  the  arrival  of  Vibgil  and  Vaeitis,  they  proceeded  by 
easy  stages  along  the  whole  line  of  the  Via  Appia,  to  the 
utmost  termiaus  of  that  immortal  causeway  on  the  Adriatic. 

Such  excursions  were  frequent  enough  among  the  cockneys 
of  Eome  ;  and  forming,  as  these  things  did,  part  of  the  ordi- 
nary occurrences  of  common-place  life,  had  intrinsically 
little  to  recommend  them  to  the  poet  or  the  historian,  as 
subjects  for  story  or  for  song.  The  proverbial  difficulty  of 
raising  up  such  matters  to  the  level  of  elegant  composition — 
proprii  communia  dicere  {Ep.  ad  Pison^ — was  here  pre-emi- 
nent. But  genius  is  perhaps  as  frequently  displayed  in  the 
selection  of  the  objects  on  which  to  exercise  its  faculty,  as 
in  the  working  out  of  its  once  adopted  conceptions ;  and 
mediocrity  would  no  more  have  first  chosen  such  a  theme 
for  its  musings,  than  it  would  have  afterwards  treated  it  in 
the  manner  it  has  been  executed  by  Horace. 

"  Cose  in  proaa  mai  dette  ni  in  rima'' 


464  TATHEB  PEOri'S  EELIQrES. 

formed  the  aspiration  of  Ariosto  ;  Milton  gloried  in  grap- 
pling with 

"  Things  unattempted  yet  in  prose  or  rhyme  ;" 

and  both  exhibited  originality,  not  only  in  the  topics  they 
fixed  upon,  bat  in  their  method  of  handling  them.  The  iter 
Brundusii  was,  without  precedent  in  all  the  range  of  previ- 
ously existing  literature :  it  has  remained  unrivalled  amid 
all  the  sketches  of  a  similar  kind  which  have  been  called  into 
existence  by  its  felicitous  example. 

There  was,  doubtless,  nothing  very  new  or  wondrous  in 
the  practice  of  keeping  a  note-book  while  on  a  journey,  or 
in  registering  duly  such  trivial  incident  of  roadside  experi- 
ence. But  when  this  ex-colonel  of  a  legion  at  Philippi,  in 
one  of  his  leisure  hours,  at  the  remote  outport  whither  he 
had  accompanied  an  illustrious  friend,  conceived  the  idea  of 
embodying  the  contents  of  his  pugillaria  into  the  graceful 
shape  which  they  now  wear  (Lib.  I.,  Sat.  Y'),  giving  them  a 
local  habitation  and  a  permanency  among  his  works,  he  did 
more  than  merely  delight  his  travelling  companions,  immor- 
talise the  villages  along  the  route,  and  electrify  by  his  gra^ 
phic  touch  the  listless  idlers  of  the  capital :  he  positively 
founded  a  new  sect — he  propounded  the  Koean  of  a  new 
creed — he  established  the  great  school  of  "peripatetic" 
writers  ;  furnishing  the  precious  prototype  on  which  thou- 
sands of  disciples  would,  in  after  time,  systematically  model 
their  literary  compositions.  By  thus  shewing  that  the  mere 
personal  occurrences  and  anecdotes  of  a  pleasure-trip  were 
capable  of  being  wrought  into  so  interesting  a  narrative, 
he  unconsciously  opened  a  new  department  in  the  theory  of 
book-making,  furnished  a  new  field  for  the  industry  of  the 
pen.  There  is  no  conjecting  how  far  a  simple  hint  may  be 
improved  on  in  this  quarter.  Had  not  the  African  enthu- 
siasm of  St.  Augustin  suggested  to  that  most  impassioned  of 
the  ^Fathers  the  idea  of  publishing  his  "  Confessions,"  the 
practice  of  composing  personal  memoirs,  the  art  of  auto- 
biography, which  of  late  years  has  taken  such  wide  exten- 
sion, would,  perhaps,  have  neverbeen  attempted.  Peter  Abe- 
lard  would  not  have  mustered  courage  to  enlighten  the  dark 
ages,  as  he  has  done,  with  a  fuU  and  true  account  of  his 
doleful  catastrophe  C  historia  calamitatum  suarum  ")  ;  and  a 


THE    SONGS    or  HOEACE.  465 

later  age  would  not,  in  aU  probability,  liave  been  favoured 
'mth  the  confessions  of  the  maniac  Eousseau.  May  it  not 
be  similarly  predicated  of  this  famous  Itiaerary,  that  had  it 
not  given  the  first  impulse,  the  world  had  wanted  many  an 
idle"ToirE." 

"  Ehymes  on  the  road,"  "  pencillings  by  the  way,"  "  im- 
pressions," "  diaries,"  "  ramblings,"  "  records,"  "  highways," 
"  byeways,"  are  therefore  but  a  few  of  the  many  emanations 
from  one  common  source :  and,  in  good  sooth,  all  these 
people  should  unite  in  some  testimonial  to  Horace.  But 
gratitude,  I  fear,  is  rarely  manifested  in  cases  of  this  de- 
scription. A  striking  instance  might  be  given.  To  none, 
perhaps,  are  "  the  eminent  modern  humourous  writers '' 
more  indebted  than  to  the  writings  of  Joe  Miller  ;  yet  that 
authdt,  up  to  the  present  day,  is  without  a  monument ;  his 
bones  lying,  as  all  the  world  knows,  in  the  churchyard  of 
St.  Clement,  London,  under  the  back  windows  of  Tom 
Wood's  tavern.  'Tis  true  that  a  club  was  established  some 
years  ago,  by  the  exertions  of  the  two  Smiths  (Horace  and 
James),  with  Hook  and  Hood,  the  members  of  which  dine 
monthly  in  the  back  parlour  aforesaid,  commanding  a  full 
view  of  the  cemetery.  They  fully  agreed  to  levy  a  fine  of 
five  shillings  on  each  detected  perpetrator  of  a  "  Joe,"  de- 
voting the  proceeds  to  the  purchase  of  a  grave-stone.  By 
this  time  a  goodly  mausoleum  might  have  been  built ; 
whereas  old  Molitoe  is  yet  without  even  a  modest  tablet  to 
mark  the  spot  of  his  repose.     Who  is  the  treasurer  ? 

Horace  should  not  be  similarly  defrauded  of  his  claim. 
A  moderate  per  centage  on  the  profits  of  each  professed 
tourist,  with  a  slight  deodand  where  the  book  falls  stUl- 
born,  might  be  appropriately  devoted  to  erecting  a  terminal 
statue  of  the  poet  in  some  central  part  of  the  "  Eow."  ^None 
ought  to  plead  exemption  from  this  "justice-rent."  Inglis, 
Basil  Hall,  Quin,  Barrow,  Eitchie,  Piickler  Muskau,  Emmer- 
son  Tennant,  Professor  Hoppus,  "Waterton,  the  wanderer ; 
Kick  "WiUis,  the  eavesdropper ;  Eae  WUson,  the  booby : 
all  should  contribute— except,  perhaps,  Holman,  the  "  blind 
traveller,"  whose  undertaking  was  perfectly  original. 

To  return.  I  have  just  been  reading  over,  for  perhaps  the 
hundredth  time,  the  witty  Eoman's  gay  and  graceful  itine- 
rary, gathering  from  its  perusal  a  fresh  conviction,  that  it 

B    H 


466  .   TATHEE  PEOTTT'S  EELIQTIES. 

comprises  more  humour,  point,  and  clever  writing,  withia 
the  brief  range  of  its  one  hundred  lines,  than  are  to  be  found 
in  as  many  hundred  octavo  volumes  of  recent  manufacture. 
But  let  that  pass.  The  obvious  beauties  which  distinguish 
these  enduring  monuments  of  bygone  genius  are  not  the 
passages  which  stand  most  in  need  of  commentary  ;  and  I  am 
just  now  about  to  fix  myself  on  a  very  unimportant  expres- 
sion occurring  in  the  simple  course  of  the  poet's  narrative ; 
a  most  trivial  fact  in  itself,  but  particularly  adapted  to  my 
present  purpose.  Swift's  meditations  on  a  broomstick  have 
long  ago  proved  that  the  Imagination,  like  one  of  Teniers' 
witches,  win  soar  aloft  on  a  hobby-horse  of  her  own  selection. 
Of  late,  the  habit  of  indulging  in  reveries  has,  I  confess, 
grown  on  me  ;  and  I  feel  an  increasing  tendency  to  rumi- 
nate on  the  veriest  trifles.  This  arises  partly,  I  suppose,  from 
the  natural  discursiveness  of  memory  in  old  age,  partly,  I 
suspect,  from  the  long  familiarity  of  my  mind  with  the  great 
Cornelius  a  Lapide's  elucidations  of  the  prophet  Ezekiel. 

The  words  on  which  I  would  ponder  thus,  after  the  most 
approved  method  of  the  great  Flemish  commentator,  are 
contained  in  the  48th  verse,  which  runs  as  follows  in  all  the 
known  MSS. ; 

"  lusum  it  ifBlsecenas ;  tiormitum  tgo  UrirgiluiBiiiu." 

Lib.  I.,  Sat.  v.,  V.  48. 

My  approved  good  master,  a  Lapide,  would  hereupon,  sub- 
mitting each  term  to  the  more  than  chemical  analysis  of  his 
scrutiny,  first  point  out  to  the  admiration  of  all  function- 
aries in  the  diplomatic  line,  who  happen  to  be  charged  vsdth 
a  secret  mission,  the  sagacious  conduct  of  M^cenas.  The 
envoy  of  Augustus  is  fully  conscious,  on  his  arrival  at  Capta, 
that  his  motions  are  narrowly  watched  by  the  quidnuncs  of 
that  vagabond  town,  and  that  the  probable  object  of  his 
journey  is  sure  to  be  discussed  by  every  barber  in  and  about 
the  market-place.  How  does  he  act  ?  While  the  mules  are 
resting  at  the  "  caupona,"  (for  it  appears  the  vetturini-sy&tesa. 
of  travelling  is  of  very  old  date  in  the  Italian  peninsula),  the 
chargi  d'affaires  seeks  out  a  certain  tennis-court,  the  most 
favourite  place  of  public  resort,  and  there  mingles  in  a  game 
with  the  citizens,  as  if  the  impending  destinies  of  the  future 
empire  of  the  world  were  not  a  moment  in  his  contemplation, 
or  did  not  rather  engross  his  whole  faculties  all  the  while. 


THE    SONGS    OP   HOEACE.  467 

This  anecdote,  I  believe,  has  not  been  noticed  by  Mr.  Taylor, 
in  his  profound  book  called  the  Statesman.  It  is  at  his  service. 

Leaving  Maecenas  to  the  enioyment  of  his  game  of  rackets, 
let  us  return  to  the  Capuan  hostelry,  and  take  cognisance 
of  what  may  be  supposed  to  be  then  and  there  going 
on.  Here,  then,  vre  are,  say,  at  the  sign  of  "  Silenus  and 
the  Jackass,  in  the  "  Via  Nolana."  In  answer  to  our  in- 
quiries, it  will  appear  that  the  author  of  the  Georgics  (the 
JEneid  was  yet  unpublished)  had,  as  usual  with  him  on  the 
slightest  emergencies,  found  his  stomach  sadly  out  of  order 
(erudtts)  ;  while  his  fellow  traveller,  the  distinguished  lyrist 
of  the  day,  has  sympathetically  complained  of  the  effect  pro- 
duced on  his  tender  eyelids  (Jippus)  by  the  clouds  of  inces- 
sant dust  and  the  glare  of  a  noonday  sun.  They  have  both, 
therefore,  previous  to  resuming  their  seats  in  the  clumsy 
vehicles  (rhed<e)  which  have  conveyed  them  thusfar,  decided 
on  devoting  the  sultry  meridian  hour  to  the  refreshing  pro- 
cess of  a  quiet  siesta.  The  slave  within  whose  attributions 
this  service  is  comprised  (decurio  cabicularis)  is  quickly  sum- 
moned ;  and  but  few  minutes  have  elapsed  before  the  two 
great  ornaments  of  the  Augustan  age,  the  master  spirits  of 
the  then  intellectual  world,  are  fairly  deposited  in  their  re- 
spective cells,  and  consigned  to  the  care  of  tired  nature's 
kind  restorer.  "Wboever  has  explored  the  existing  remains 
of  similar  edifices  in  the  neighbouring  town  of  Pompeii, 
will  probably  form  a  fair  estimate  of  the  scale  of  comfort 
and  style  of  accommodation  prevalent  at  the  head  inn  of 
Capua.  Entering  by  a  smoky  hall  (atrium),  the  kitchen 
being  on  one  side  and  the  servants'  offices  on  the  other,  your 
traveller  proceeded  towards  the  compluvium,  or  open  quad- 
rangular courtyard ;  on  each  side  of  which,  in  cloister  fashion, 
were  ranged  the  sleeping  apartments,  small  dark  chambers, 
each  some  eight  or  twelve  feet  square,  having,  at  the  height 
of  about  six  feet  from  the  mosaic  ground-floor,  a  scanty 
aperture,  furnished  with  a  linen  blind ;  a  crockery  lamp,  a 
bronze  tripod  and  basin  {pelvis),  a  mirror  of  the  same  mate- 
rial, forming,  with  a  hard  couch  (stragula),  the  complete  in- 
ventory of  the  movables  within.  A  knight-templar,  or 
Carthusian  monk,  would  feel  quite  at  home  in  your  antique 
hostelry. 

Little  dreamed,  I  ween,  the  attendant  slave,  mayhap  stiU 


468  TATHEE  PEOUt'S   EELIQTTES. 

less  the  enlightened  eaupo  himself,  of  the  high  honour  con- 
ferred on  his  establishment  by  an  hour's  occupancy  of  its 
chambers  on  that  occasion.  The  very  tail  gentleman,  with 
an  ungainly  figure  and  slight  stoop  in  the  shoulders,  bo  awk- 
ward and  bashful  in  his  address,  and  who  had  complained  of 
such  bad  digestion,  became,  no  doubt,  the  object  of  a  few  not 
over  respectful  remarks  among  the  atrienses  oi  the  household. 
Nor  did  the  short,  fat,  Sancho-Panza-looking  sort  of  person- . 
age,  forming  in  every  respect  so  complete  a  contrast  to  his 
demure  and  sedate  companion,  fail  to  elicit  some  curious 
comments,  and  some  not  very  complimentary  conjectures, 
as  to  what  jnight  be  his  relative  position  in  society.  In  what 
particular  capacity  did  they  both  foUow  the  train  of  the  rich 
knight,  Maecenas  ?  This  was,  no  doubt,  acutely  and  dili- 
gently canvassed  by  the  gossips  of  the  inn.  One  thing  was 
certain.  In  humour  and  disposition,  as  well  as  in  personal 
appearance,  they  were  the  very  antipodes  of  each  other ,-7-. 
a  musing  Heraclitus  yoked  with  a  laughing  Democritus ; 
aptly  illustrative,  the  one  of  il  penseroso,  the  other  of  V alle- 
gro. Mine  host,  with  the  instinctive  sagacity  of  his  tribe, 
at  once  had  set  down  Horace  as  a  man  fanuliar  with  the  me- 
tropolis, habituated  to  town  life,  and  in  every  respect  "  fit  to 
travel."  It  was  equally  clear  that  the  other  individual  be- 
longed to  the  agricultural  interest,  his  manner  savouring  of 
much  residence  in  the  country  ;  being,  in  sooth,  not  merely 
rural,  but  actually  rustic.  In  a  word,  they  were  fair  samples 
of  the  rat  de  ville  and  the  rat  des  champs.  Meantime  the 
unconscious  objects  of  so  much  keen  investigation  "  slept 
on  ;"  and  "  little  they  recked  "  anent  what  was  .thus  "  lightly 
^oken "  concerning  them  by  those  who  kept  the  sign  of 
"  SUenus  and  the  Jackass,"  in  the  high  street  at  Capua. 

"  Bormltum  ego  ITitgHiusque." 

Do  I  purpose  to  disturb  them  in  their  meridian  slumber  ? 
—Not  L  Tet  may  the  scholar's  fancy  be  allowed  to  pene- 
trate each  darkened  cell,  and  take  a  hurried  and  furtive 
glance  at  the  illustrious  sleepers.  Fancy  may  be  permitted 
to  hover  o'er  each  recumbent  form,  and  contemplate  in  silent 
awe  the  repose  of  genius.  Panct,  after  the  fashion  of  her 
sister  Psyche,  and  at  the  risk  of  a  similar  penalty,  may  be 
suffered,  on  tiptoe,  and  lamp  in  hand,  to  explore  the  couch 


THE    SONGS   OF   HOEACE.  469 

of  her  beloved,  to  survey  the  features  and  figure  of  those 
from  whom  she  hath  so  long  derived  such  exquisite  sensations 
of  iatellectual  enjoyment. 

Plutarch  delighted  to  bring  two  of  his  heroes  together, 
and  then,  ia  a  laboured  parallel,  illustrate  the  peculiarities 
of  the  one  by  setting  forth  the  distinctive  characteristics  of 
the  other.  This  was  also  done  by  Dr.  Johnson,  in  his  grand 
juxtaposition  of  Dryden  and  Pope.  But  could  a  more 
tempting  opportunity  ever  occur  to  the  great  Beotian,  or 
the  great  lexicographer,  for  a  display  of  analysis  and  anti- 
thesis, than  the  respective  merits  and  powers  of  the  two 
great  writers  here  entranced  before  us  ? 

The  Capuan  innkeeper  had  gone  more  deeply  into  the 
subject  than  would  be  at  first  imagined,  when  he  classified 
his  guests  under  the  heads  of  "  town"  and  "  country."  The 
most  elaborately  metaphysical  essay  could  not  throw  greater 
light  on  the  relative  idiosyncrasy  of  their  minds. 

Virgil,  from  his  earliest  infancy  up  to  the  period  of  con- 
firmed manhood,  had  not  left  the  banks  of  the  MiNcio,  or 
the  plains  of  Lombardy.  It  required  the  confiscation  of 
his  Httle  farm,  and  the  transfer  of  his  ancestral  acres  to  a 
set  of  quasi  Cromwellian  intruders  (Octavius  Caesar's  mili- 
tary colonists),  to  bring  him  up  toEome  inquest  of  redress. 
He  was  then  in  his  30th  year.  Tenderness,  sensibility,  a 
soul  feelingly  alive  to  all  the  sweet  emotions  of  unvitiated 
nature,  are  the  natural  growth  of  such  happy  seclusion  from 
a  wicked  world.  Majestic  thoughts  are  the  offspring  of  so- 
litude. Plato  meditated  alone  on  the  promontory  of  Sunium : 
Virgil  was  a  Platonist. 

The  boyhood  and  youth  of  Horace  (as  I  think  may  be 
gathered  from  my  last  paper)  were  spent  in  a  totally  dif- 
ferent atmosphere  ;'  and,  therefore,  no  two  poets  could  be 
nurtured  and  trained  in  schools  of  poetry  more  essentially 
opposite.  The  "  lake  "  academy  is  not  more  diiferent  from 
the  gymnasium  of  the  "  silverfork."  Epicurus  dwelt  among 
the  busy  haunts  of  men :  Horace  was  an  Epicurean. 

The  latter  was  in  every  respect,  as  his  outward  appear- 
ance would  seem  to  indicate,  "  of  the  town,  townly."  Mira- 
beau  used  to  say,  whenever  he  left  Paris,  that,  on  looking 
through  his  carriage- windows  at  the  faces  along  the  road,  he 
could  ascertain  to  a  fraction  how  far  he  was  from  the  capital. 


470        rATHEE  peout's  eeliquhs. 

The  men  were  his  mile-stones.  Even  genius  in  the  provinces 
wears  an  aspect  of  simplicity.  The  Eomans  were  perfectly- 
sensible  of  this  difference.  Urbanum  sal  was  a  well-known 
commodity,  as  easily  distinguished  by  men  of  taste  in  the 
metropolis,  as  the  verbal  provincialisms  which  pervade  the 
decades  of  Livy  were  quickly  detected  by  the  delicate  sensi- 
bility of  metropolitan  ears. 

In  society,  Horace  must  have  shewn  to  great  advantage, 
in  contrast  with  the  retiring  and  uncommunicative  Manttan . 
Acute,  brilliant,  satirical,  his  versatile  accomplishments  fas- 
cinated at  once.  Virgil,  however,  inspired  an  interest  of  a 
different  description.  Thoughtful  and  reserved,  "  the  rapt 
soul  sitting  in  his  eyes  "  gave  intimation  of  a  depth  of  feel- 
ing and  a  comprehensiveness  of  intellect  far  beyond  the 
range  of  aU  contemporary  minds.  Habitually  silent ;  yet 
when  he  spoke,  in  the  solemn  and  exquisitely  musical  ca- 
dences peculiar  to  his  poetry,  it  was  as  if  the  "  spirit  of 
Plato"  rfevealed  itself,  or  the  Sibylline  books  were  unfolded. 

I  can't  understand  that  passage  in  the  tenth  satire  (lib.  i.) 
where  the  Sabine  humourist  asserts  that  the  Muses  who  pa- 
tronise a  country  life  {gaudentes  rare  camance),  having  en- 
dowed Virgil  with  a  mild  and  lenient  disposition,  a  delicate 
sweetness  of  style,  had  also  bestowed  on  him  a  talent  for  the 
facetious  (moUe  . .  atque  facetum) .  There  is,  assuredly,  more 
fun  and  legitimate  droUery  in  a  page  of  the  said  Satires, 
than  in  all  the  Eclogues  and  Georgics  put  together.  To 
extract  a  laugh  out  of  the  jUneid,  it  required  the  help  of 

SCAEKON. 

Horace  was  the  delight  of  the  convivial  circle.  The  flashes 
of  his  Bacchanalian  minstrelsy  brightened  the  blaze  of  the 
banquet ;  and  his  love-songs  were  the  very  quiatessence  of 
Eoman  rejBnement.  Yet  never  did  he  achieve  such  a  triumph 
as  is  recorded  of  his  gifted  friend,  when,  having  consented 
to  gratify  the  household  of  Augustus  and  the  imperial  circle 
by  readiiag  a  portion  of  his  majestic  poem,  he  selected  that 
famous  exposition  of  Plato's  sumblimest  theories,  the  6th 
book  of  his  ^neid.  The  charm  of  his  recitation  gave  addi- 
tional  dignity  to  that  high  argument,  so  nobly  developed  in 
harmonious  verse.  But  when  the  intellect  had  feasted  its 
flu — ^when  he  suddenly  "  changed  his  hand,"  and  appealed 
to  the  heart — when  the  glowing  episode  of  the  young  Mar- 


THE    SONGS    OF  HOEACB.  471 

cellus  came  by  surprise  on  the  assembled  court,  a  fainting 
empress,  amid  the  mingled  tears  and  applause  of  veteran 
warriors,  confessed  the  sacred  supremacy  of  song. 

The  poetry  of  Horace  is  a  pleasant  thought;  that  of  Virgil 
a  delightful  dream.  The  first  had  mingled  in  the  world  of 
reality ;  the  latter  dwelt  in  a  fanciful  and  ideal  region,  from 
which  he  rarely  came  down  to  the  vulgarities  of  actual  life. 
The  tranquil  lake  reflects  heaven  in.  its  calm  bosom :  the 
running  brook  makes  acquaintance  with  the  thousand  objects 
on  its  varied  margia.  "Wordsworth,  Southey,  Coleridge, 
Goethe,  Lamartine,  belong  to  the  dreamy  race  of  writers — 
they  are  "  children  of  the  mist" — their  dweUing  is  in  a  land 
of  visions.  Byron,  Beranger,  Burns,  Scott,  Shakespeare, 
deal  with  men  and  things  as  they  have  found  them,  and  as 
they  really  are.  The  latter  class  will  ever  be  the  most  popu- 
lar. The  acute  thinker  will  ever  be  preferred  to  the  most 
enchanting  "  dreamer  of  dreams." 

In  the  empire  of  Augustus,  Virgil  saw  the  realisation  of 
ancient  oracles :  he  viewed  as  from  a  distance  the  mighty 
structure  of  Eoman  power,  and  imaged  in  his  .^neid  the  vast 
idea  of  a  heaven-descended  monarchy.  Horace  took  up  his 
lantern  h  la  Diogene,  and  went  about  exploring  the  details  of 
the  social  system,  the  vices,  the  foIlies,,the  passions  of  Eo- 
man society.  His  poetry  was  of  a  more  matter-of-fact  na- 
ture :  it  came  home  to  the  bosom  of  his  readers :  it  was  the 
exaoj;  expression  of  contemporary  joys  and  sorrows. 

The  character  of  each  as  a  poet  may  not  be  inappropriately 
sought  for  in  the  weU-known  allegory  with  which  the  6th 
book  of  the  JSneid  closes : 

"  Sunt  geminte  somni  porta  quaram  altera  fertur 
Cornea  qud  veris  facilis  datur  exitus  umbris, 
Altera  oandenti  perfecta  nitens  elephanto, 
Sed  falsa  ad  coelum  mittunt  insomnia  manes." 

Or  as  Dryden  has  it — 

"  Two  shining  gates  the  house  of  sleep  adorn ; 
Of  polished  ivory  this — that  of  transparent  hom,"  &o. 

I  leave  to  my  readers  the  evolving  of  this  complex  idea. 
The  dreamy  visions  of  the  Platonist  may  be  placed  in  con- 
trast with  the  practical  wit  and  knowledge  of  the  world 


472 


FATHEE  PEOTJT'S   EELIQUES. 


possessed  by  the  shrewd  disciples  of  Epicurus,  the  "falsa 
insomnia"  with  the  "  veris  umbris."  And  herewith  I  wind 
up  my  parallel. 

I  now  open  the  second  hook  of  the  odes,  and  proceed  on 
my  task  of  metrical  exposition. 

Lib.  II.    Ode  I. — to  pollio  on  his  meditated  hibtoet. 

ATI  0.  ASntrUM  POMJONEM. 


The  story  of  our  civil  wars, 

Through  all  the  changes  that  befell  ua. 
To  chronicle  thy  pen  prepares, 

Dating  the  record  from  MeteUus  ; — 
Of  parties  and  of  chiefs  thy  page 

Will  paint  the  leagues,  the  plans,  the  forces ; 
Follow  them  through  each  raried  stage. 

And  trace  the  warfare  to  its  sources. 

And  thou  wilt  tell  of  swords  still  wet 

With  uuatoned-for  blood ; — historian, 
Bethink  thee  of  thy  risk ! . . .  ere  yet 

Of  CUo  thou  awake  the  clarion. 
Think  of  the  tact  which  Borne  requires 

In  one  who  would  such  deeds  unfold  her ; 
Know  that  thy  tread  is  upon  fires 

Which  still  beneath  the  ashes  smoulder. 

Of  Tragedy  the  weeping  Muse 

Awhile  in  thee  may  mourn  a  truant, 
Whom  Tarnished  fiction  vainly  woos. 

Of  stem  realities  pursuant : 
But  finish  tliy  laborious  task. 

Our  annals  write  with  care  and  candour ; 
Then  don  the  buskin  and  the  mask, 

And  tread  through  scenes  of  tragic  grandeur ! 

Star  of  the  stage  !  to  thee  the  Law 

Looks  for  her  mildest,  best  expounder — 
Thee  the  rapt  senate  hears  vrith  awe. 

Wielding  the  bolts  of  patriot  thunder — 
Thee  Glory  found  beneath  the  tent. 

When  from  a  desert  wild  and  horrid, 
jDalmatia  back  in  triumph  sent 

Her  conqueror,  with  laurelled  forehead ! 

But,  hark !  methinks  the  martial  horn 
Gives  prelude  to  thy  coming  story  i 

In  fancy's  ear  shrill  trumpets  warn 
Of  battle-fields,  hard  fought  and  gory  : 


Motum  ex  Metello 
Consule  civioum, 
BeDique  causas,        ' 
Et  vitia,  et  modos, 
Ludumque  FortunsB, 

Gravesque 
Principum  amicitias, 

Et  arms 

Nondum  expiatis 
XJncta  cruoribus, 
Periculosffl 
Plenum  opus  alese 

Tractas,  et 
Incedis  per  ignes 

Suppositos 
Cineri  doloso. 

Paulum  seversB 
Musa  tragoediffi 
Desit  theatris  j 
Mox,  ubi  publieas 
Ees  ordinaris, 
Grande  munus 

Cecropio 
Eepetes  cothumo. 

Insigne  mcestis 
Pr8esidium  reis 
Et  consulenti, 
PoUio,  Curise, 

Cui  laurus 
.ffiternos  honores 

Dalmatico 
Peperit  triumpho. 

Jam  nunc  minaci 
Murmure  comuum 
Perstringis  aures ; 
Jam  litui  strepunt ; 


THE    SOlfSS    or   HOEACE 


473 


Fanoy  hath  conjured  up  the  scene, 

And  phantom  ■warriors  crowd  beside  her — 

The  squadron  dight  in  dazzhng  sheen — 
The  startled  steed — th'  affrighted  rider ! 

Hark  to  the  shouts  that  echo  loud 

Prom  mighty  chieftains,  shadowed  grimly ! 
While  blood  and  dust  each  hero  shroud. 

Costume  of  slaughter — not  unseemly  : 
Vainly  ye  struggle,  yanquished  brave ! 

Doomed  to  see  fortune  still  desert  ye, 
Till  all  the  world  lies  prostrate,  save 

Unconquer'd  Gate's  savage  virtue ! 

Juno,  who  loveth  Afric  most, 

And  each  dread  tutelary  godhead. 
Who  guards  her  black  barbaric  coast, 

Lybia  with  Eomau  gore  have  flooded : 
While  warring  thus  the  sons  of  those 

WTiose  prowess  could  of  old  subject  her. 
Glutting  the  grudge  of  ancient  foes, 

Fell — but  to  glad  Jugurtha's  spectre ! 

Where  be  the  distant  land  but  drank 

Our  Latium's  noblest  blood  in  torrents  ? 
Sad  sepulchres,  where'er  it  sank. 

Bear  witness  to  each  foul  occurrence. 
Eude  barbarous  tribes  have  learn'd  io  scoff. 

Sure  to  exult  at  our  undoing ; — 
Persia  hath  heard  with  joy,  far  off. 

The  sound  of  Bome's  gigantic  ruin ! 

Point  out  the  gulf  on  ocean's  verge — 

The  stream  remote,  along  whose  channels 
Hath  not  been  heard  the  mournful  ^irge 

That  rose  throughout  ourmurderous  annals — 
Shew  me  the  sea — without  its  tide 

Of  blood  upon  the  surface  blushing — 
Shew  me  the  shore — with  blood  undyed 

From  Boman  veins  profusely  gushing. 

But,  Muse  !  a  truce  to  themes  like  these — 

Let  us  strike  up  some  jocund  carol  5 
Nor  pipe  with  old  Simonides 

DuU  solemn  strains,  morosely  moral : 
leach  me  a  new,  a  Uyeher  stave — 

And  that  we  may  the  better  chaunt  it, 
Hie  with  me  to  the  mystic  cave. 

Grotto  of  song !  by  Bacchus  haunted. 


Jam  fiilgor  armorum 

Fngaoes 
Terret  equos, 
Equitumque  vultuB. 

Audire  magnos 
Jam  videor  duces 
Non  indecoro 
Pulvere  sordidos, 
Et  cuncta  terrarum 

Subacta, 
Prseter  atrocem 

Animnm  Catonis. 

Juno,  et  Deorum 
Quisquis  amicior 
Afris,  inultft 
Oesserat  impotens 

Tellure, 
Victorum  nepptes 
Bettulit  inferias 

Jugurthse. 

Quis  nou  Latino 
Sanguine  pinguior 
Campus,  sepulohris 
Impia  prseUa 

Testatur, 
Auditumque  Medis 

Hesperiee 
Sonitum  ruinse  ? 

Qui  gorges,  aut  quse 
Flumina  lugubris 
Ignara  belli  ? 
Quod  mare  Daunise 
Non  deoolor- 

avere  csedes  ? 
Quse  caret  ora 

Cruore  nostro  ? 

Sed  ne,  relictis, 
Musa  procax,  jocis, 
Cese  retractes 
Munera  nenise ! 
Meoum  Dionoeo 

Sub  autro 
Qusere  modes 

Leviore  pleciaro. 


474  FATHEE  JEOTTT's  EELIQTTES. 

It  is  pleasant  to  find  "  Adam  Smith  on  the  "Wealth  of  Na- 
tions" anticipated,  in  the  following  expos6  of  sound  com- 
mercial principles ;  and  the  folly  of  restricting  the  bank 
issues  made  the  subject  of  an  ode.  It  is  addressed  to  Sal- 
lust,  nephew  of  the  historian,  who  had  amassed  considerable 
wealth  from  the  plunder  of  Africa,  during  his  prsetorship  in 
that  province  ;  and  had  laid  out  the  proceeds,  after  the  most 
liberal  fashion,  in  embellishing  his  most  magnificent  resi- 
dence, the  Horti  Sallustiani,  which  to  this  day  forma  a  splen- 
did pubUc  promenade  for  your  modern  Eomans.  The  libe- 
rality of  Proculeius  Murena,  who,  on  the  confiscation  of  his 
brother's  property  during  the  civil  war,  had  made  good  the 
loss  from  his  ovm  patrimony,  and  opened  an  asylum  to 
his  orphaned  nephews,  was  apparently  the  current  subject 
of  conversation  at  the  time ;  as  well  as  the  good  fortune  of 
Phraates,  in  recovering  the  crown  of  Persia,  which  had  been 
jeopardised  by  some  revolutionary  proceedings.  At  this 
distance  of  years,  both  topics  appear  somewhat  stale ;  but 
we  must  go  back  in  spirit  to  the  days  in  which  such  matters 
possessed  interest,  and,  having  thus  made  ourselves  part  and 
parcel  of  contemporary  Eoman  society,  admire  as  weU  as 
we  can,  the  grace  and  treshness  of  the  allusions. 


Lib.  II.     Ode  II. — thoughts  on  BrLLioN  and  the 

CrEEEKOT. 
AD  OEiaPUM  SALITJSTIUM. 

My  SaEuBt,  eay,  in  days  of  dearth,  Nullus  argento 

What  is  the  lazy  ingot  worth.  Color  est  avaris 

Deep  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth  Abdito  terris 

Allowed  to  settle,  luimioe  lamnae 

TJnless  a  temperate  use  send  forth  Criape  Sallusti, 

The  shining  metal  ?  Nisi  temperato 

Splendeat  usu. 

Blessings  on  him  whose  bounteous  hoard  Vivet  extento 

A  brother's  ruined  house  restored—  Proculeius  ebto, 

Spreading  anew  the  orphan's  board,  Notua  in  fratres 

With  care  paternal :  Animi  paterni. 

Murena's  fame  aloft  hath  soar'd  Ilium  aget  penuH 

On  wings  eternal !  Metueute  solvi 


Fama  supersteg. 


THE    SON&S   OF   HOHACE. 


475 


Canst  thou  command  thy  lust  for  gold  P 
Then  art  thou  richer,  friend,  fourfold, 
Than  if  thy  nod  the  marts  controlled 

Where  ohiefest  trade  is — 
The  Carthages  both  "new"  and  "old," 

The  JSrUe  and  Cadiz. 

Mark  yon  hydropic  sufferer,  still 
Indulging  in  the  draughts  that  fill 
His  bloated  frame, — insatiate,  till 

Death  end  the  sickly ; 
Unless  the  latent  fount  of  iU 

Be  dried  up  quietly. 

Heed  not  the  vulgar  tale  that  says 

— "He  counts  calm  hours  and  happy  days 

Who  from  the  throne,  of  Cyrus  sways 

The  Persian  sceptre  :" — 
Wisdom  corrects  the  JU-used  phrase — 

And — stem  preceptor — 

Happy  alone  proclaimeth  them, 
Who  with  undazzled  eye  contemn 
The  pile  of  gold,  the  glittering  gem. 

The  bribe  ujiholy — 
Palm,  laurel-wreath,  and  diadem,         , 

Be  theirs — theirs  solely  ! 


Latius  regnes 
Avidum  domando 
Spiritum,  quam  si 
Libyam  remotis 
Q-adibus  jungas, 
Et  uterque  Pcenus 
Serviat  uni. 

Crescit  indulgens 
Sibi  dirus  hydrops, 
Nee  sitim  peUit, 
Nisi  causa  morbi 
Pugerit  veuis, 
Et  aquosus  albo 
Corpore  languor. 

Bedditum  Cyri 
SoUo  Phraatem, 
Dissidens  plebi 
If  umero  beatorum, 
Eximit.  Virtus 
Populumque  falsis, 
Dedocet  uti. 

Vocibus ;  regnum 
Et  diadema  tutum 
Deferens  uni, 
Propriamque  laurum 
Quisquis  ingentes 
Ocula  irretorto, 
Spectat  acervos. 


Sherlock's  famous  volume  on  death  has  been  equally  fore- 
stalled by  our  Epicurean  moralist ;  who,  whatever  he  may 
want  in  consolatory  prospects  of  a  blessed  futurity,  compen- 
sates for  this  otherwise  very  material  omission  by  an  xmxi- 
vailed  sweetness  of  versification,  and  imagery  the  most  pic- 
turesque. 


Lib.  II.    Ode  III. — a  homilt  on  death. 

AD  Q.  DELHtTM. 

Thee,  whether  Pain  assail  -3ilquam  memento 

Or  Pleasure  pamper,  Bebus  in  arduis 

DeUius — whiche'er  prevail —  Servare  mentem, 

Keep  thou  tiy  temper ;  Non  secus  in  bonis 

Unwed  to  boisterous  joys,  that  ne'er  Ab  insolent!  temperatam 

Can  save  thee  from  the  sepulchre ;  Lsetitife,  moriture  DeUi. 


476 


rATHEE  PBOTTT  S   SEIIQITES. 


Death  smites  the  slave  to  spleen.  Sou  incestns  orani 

Whose  soul  repineth,  Tempore  vixeris, 

And  him  who  on  the  green,  Seu  te  in  remoto 

Calm  sage,  reolineth,  Gtramine  per  dies 

Keeping — from  grief's  intrusion  far—  Pestos  reclinatum  bearis 
Blithe  holiday  with  festal  jar.  Interiore  nota  Falerni. 


Where  giant  fir,  sunproof. 

With  poplar  blendeth. 
And  high  o'er  head  a  roof 
Of  boughs  extendeth ; 
While  onward  runs  the  crooked  rill. 
Brisk  fugitive,  with  murmur  shrUl. 


Qua  pinus  ingens 
Albaque  populus 

TJmbram  hospitalem 
Consociare  amant 
Bands,  et  obliquo  laborat 
Iiympha  fugax  trepidare  rivo 


Bring  wine,  here,  on  the  grass !  Hxmc  vina,  et  ungueuta, 

Bring  perfumes  hither !  Et  nimium  breres 

Bring  roses — which,  alaa !  Mores  amoenos 

Too  quickly  wither —  Ferre  jube  rosse. 

Ere  of  our  days  the  spring -tide  ebb,    Dum  res,  et  eetas,  et  sororum 
While  the  dark  sisters  weave  our  web.      Kla  trium  patiuntur  atra. 


Soon — should  the  fatal  shear 

Cut  life's  frail  fibre — 
Broad  lands,  sweet  TiUa  near 
The  yellow  Tiber, 
With  all  thy  chattels  rich  and  rare, 
Must  travel  to  a  thankless  heir. 

Be  thou  the  nobly  bom, 

Spoil'd  child  of  Fortune — 

Be  thou  the  wretch  forlorn, 

Whom  wants  importune — 

By  sufferance  thou  art  here  at  most, 

TUl  death  shall  claim  his  holocaust. 


Cedes  coemptis 

Saltibus,  et  domo, 

Vill3,que,  flavus 

Quam  Tiberis  lavit : 

Cedes,  et  exstructis  in  altum 

Divitiis  potietur  heres. 

Divesne,  prisoo 

IN'atus  ab  Inacho, 

Nil  interest,  an 

Pauper  et  infimSi 

De  gente  sub  dio  moreris, 

Yictima  nil  miserantia  Orci. 


All  to  the  same  dark  bourne  Omnes  eodem 

Plod  on  together —  Cogimur  :  omnium 

Lots  from  the  same  dread  um  ,     Versatur  vxn& 

Leap  forth — and,  whether  Serius  ocius 

Our's  be  the  first  or  last,  Hell's  wave  Sors  exitura,  et  nos  in  setemnm 
Yawns  lor  the  exiles  of  the  grave.  ExsUium  impositura  cymbse. 

I,  of  course,  cannot  countenance  the  tendency  of  the  suc- 
ceeding morceau.  Its  apparent  purpose  is  to  vindicate  what 
the  Grermans  call  "  left-handed"  alliances  between  the  sexes : 
but  its  obvious  drift  is  not  such  as  so  generally  correct  a 
judge  of  social  order  and  propriety  would  be  s'upposed  to 
mistake.    The  responsibility,  however,  be  his  own, 


THE    SONHS   01'   HOEACE.  477 

Lib.  II.     Ode  IV. — cijAssioal  love  matches. 

"  W/ien  the  heart  of  a  man  is  oppressed  with  care, 
The  mist  is  dispelled  if  a  woman  appear  ; 
Like  the  notes  of  a  Jiddle,  she  sweetly^  sweetly, 
liaises  his  spirits  and  charms  his  ear." — Caitain  MaoheatH. 

O  deem  not  thy  love  for  a  eaptiye  maid  THe  sit  ancillse  tibi  amor  pudori, 

Doth,  Phoceua,  the  heart  of  a  Roman  Xanthia  Phooeu.    Prius  insolen- 

degrade !  tern 

Like  the  noble  Aohilles,  'tis  simply,  Serva  Briseis  niveo  colore 

simply,  Morit  Achillem  5 

With  a  "Briseis"  thou  sharest  thy  bed. 

Ajax  of  Telamon  did  the  same,  Movit  Ajacem  Telamone  natum 

Felt  in  his  bosom  a  Phrygian  flame  j  Forma  captivse  dominum  Tee- 
Taught  to  contemn  none,  Eling  Aga-  messse ; 

memnon  Arsit  Atrides  medio  in  triumpho 
Pond  of  a  Trojan  slave  became.  Virgine  raptS, 

Such  was  the  rule  with  the  &reeks  of  Barbarse  postquam  oeoidere  tur- 

old,  mse, 

When  they  had  conquer'd  the  foe's  Thessalo  vietore,  et    ademptus 

stronghold ;  Hector 

When  gallant   Hector — Troy's  pro-  Tradidit  fessis  leviora  tolli 

tector —  Pergama  Graiis. 

Falling,  the  knell  of  Ilion  toU'd. 

Why  deem  her  origin  vile  and  base  ?  Nescias  an  te  generum  beati 

Canst  thou  her  pedigree  fairly  trace  ?  PhyUidis  flavse  decorent  paren- 
TeUow-hair'd  Phylhs,  slave  tho'  she  tes : 

be,  stiU  is  Eegium  certe  genus  et  penates 
The  last,  perhaps,  of  a  royal  race.  Moeret  iniquos. 

Birthtodemeanourwillsurerespond —  Crede  non  iUam  tibi  de  scelest^ 

Phyllis  is  faithful,  PhyUis  is  fond :  Plebe  dilectam,neque  sic  fidelera, 

Crold  cannot  buy  her — then  why  deny  Sic  lucro  aversam  potuisse  nasci 

her  Matre  pudendsl. 

A  rank  the  basely  bom  beyond  ? 

Phyllis  hath  limbs  divinely  wrought,  Brachia  et  vultum  teretesque  su- 
Features  and  figure  without  a  fault ...  ras 

Do  not  feel  jealous,  friend,  when  a  Integer  laudo ;  fuge  suspioari, 

fellow's  Cujus  ootavum  trepidavit  setas 
Fortieth  year  forbids  the  thought !  Claudere  lustrum. 

In  contrasting  Virgil  witli  Horace,  and  in  noticing  the 
opposite  tendencies  of  mind  and  disposition  discoverable  in 
their  writings,  I  should  have  pointed  out  the  very  glaring 


478  J'lTHEE   PEOrT'S   EEHQITES. 

difference  in  their  respective  views  of  female  character.  The 
mild  indulgence  of  the  Epicurean  is  obviously  distinguishable 
from,  the  severe  moroseness  of  the  Platonist.  The  very  foi- 
bles of  the  sex  find  an  apologist  in  Horace :  Virgil  appears 
to  have  been  hardly  sensible  to  their  highest  excellencies. 
The  heroines  of  the  ^neid  are  depicted  in  no  very  amiable 
colours  ;  his  Dido  is  a  shrew  and  a  scold  :  his  Trojan  women 
fire  the  fleet,  and  run  wild  like  witches  in  a  Sabbat :  the 
"  mourning  fields"  are  crowded  with  ladies  of  lost  reputa- 
tion: the  wife  of  King  Latinus  hangs  herself:  Camilla  dies 
in  attempting  to  grasp  a  gewgaw  :  and  even  the  fair  Lavinia 
is  so  described,  as  to  be  hardly  worth  fighting  for.  How 
tolerant,  on  the  contrary,  is  our  songster — how  lenient  in 
his  sketches  of  female  defects — how  impassioned  in  his  com- 
mendation of  female  charms  !  Playful  irony  he  may  occa- 
sionally employ  in  his  addresses  to  Eoman  beauty ;  but,  in 
his  very  iavectives,  nothing  can  be  clearer  than  his  intense 
devotion  to  the  whole  sex  .  .  .  with  the  exception  of  "  Ca- 
nidia."  Who  she  was  I  may  take  an  early  opportunity  of 
explaining  :  it  is  a  very  long  story,  and  will  make  a  paper. 

The  subject  of  the  following  ode  is  Campasp^,  the  mistress 
of  ApeUes.  This  favourite  artist  of  Alexander  the  Grreat 
would  appear  to  have  been,  like  Salvator  Eosa,  addicted  to 
the  kindred  pursuits  of  a  poet.  Of  his  paintings  nothing 
has  come  down  to  us ;  but  of  his  poetry  I  am  happy  to 
supply  a  fragment  from  the  collection  of  Athseneus.  The 
Greek  is  clearly  the  original.  George  Herrick  has  suppHed 
the  English  ;  the  Latin  has  not  been  inserted  in  any  edition 
of  Horace  I  have  seen. 

Lib.  II.    Ode  V. — crpiD  a  gambles. 

Nostra  Campaspe  le™  et  Cupido  Turn  labellorum  roseoa  honores 

Ale&  nuper  statuere  ludoB,  Mox  ebur  frontis — siiuulhanc  sub  imo 

Merx  ut  hine  iUinc  foret  osculo-  Quae  manu  matris  faerat  cavata 
mm  ; —  Kimula  mento, 

Solvit  at  iHe. 

Pignorat  sorti  pharetram,  eagit-  Solvit . .  — at  posquam  geminos  ocellos 

tas,  Lusit  incassiliia,  menet  iiide  cceous.^ 

Par  oolumbarum,  Venerisque  bi-  Sic  eum  si  tu  epoKas,  pueUa ! 

gas  Quanta  ego  solvsm? 

Passeres  ; — eheu !  puer  aleator 
Singula  solvit. 


THE   SONGS   OF   nOEACE.  479 

Cupid  and  my  Campaspe  played 
At  cards  for  kisses  ; — Cupid  paied — 
He  stakes  hys  quiver,  bowe  and  arrowes, 
Hys  mother's  doves  and  teame  of  sparrowes  j 
Looses  them  too — then  downe  he  throws 
The  coral  of  his  lippe,  the  rose 
TJppon  hys  cheek  (but  none  knows  how) 
With  these  the  crystal  of  his  browe, 
And  then  the  dymple  on  his  chinne  — 
All  these  did  my  Campaspe  wiune. 
At  last  he  sette  her  both  his  eyes ; 
She  wonn  :  and  Cupid  blind  did  rise. 
Oh,  Love !  hath  she  done  this  to  thee  ? 
What,  shall,  alas,  become  of  me  ? 

GEOEaB  Hbeeice. 

EEAGMENT   OE  THE   PAINTEE  AND   POET,   APELLES. 

Ka/JH'a.e-Tra  gvyxvlSevoii  Tov  ayXaov  //^iTco'Trov, 

^iXtl/jjUT  tjv  d'  ai6Xa'  IcpgayiSji^a  %ai  yivsiov' 

AvSiv  T  ipcii;  opXrifiU'  'K.a/j^ira.S'jt'  airavr  amXiv. 

Kici  firirigos  vsXiias,  Etfjjx"  srsu^ar  aurfj- 

^T^Dviuv  ^uyov  TiSrjHir  TuipXog  r  avdi-xir'  Eows 

AvtiiXieiv  T  avavra'  E(  ravra  ffoi  /jjiynSri 

XeiXovg  riira  igsuSog,  Ka»'  rid'  Egiuj  tto/jjos  ; 

PoSov  Ts  TOiv  'rra^uuv  4)£U  !   aSXiuiTO.'njj  ti 

(nws  ovv  fi^sv  ouTig  oidiv),  MiXXii  i/mi  ymesSai  ; 

Tivoli  and  Tarentum  were  the  two  favourite  retreats  of 
Horace,  whenever  he  could  tear  himself  from  the  metropolis. 
The  charms  of  both  are  celebrated  in  the  succeeding  com- 
position. It  wo\jld  appear  to  have  been  elicited  at  a  ban- 
quet, on  Septimius  expressing  himself  so  devotedly  attached 
to  our  poet,  that  he  would  cheerfully  accompany  him  to  the 
utmost  boundary  of  the  Eoman  empire. 

Lib  IL    Ode  VI. — The  attbactions  oi'  TrsiTB  and  Taeehittm. 

SEPimruS,  pledged  with  me  to  roam  Septimi,  Gades 

Far  as  the  fierce  Ibeeian's  home,  Aditure  mecum,  et 

Where  men  abide  not  yet  o'ercome  Cantabrum  indoctum 

By  Roman  legions,  Juga  ferre  nostra,  et 

And  Matjbiianian'  billows  foam —  Barbaras  Syrtes, 

Barbaric  regions  !  Ubi  Maura  semper 
^stuat  unda : 


480 


TATHEE  PEOTTT'S   EELIQTJES. 


Tibtie! — sweet  colony  of  Greece! — 
■There  let  my  derious  wanderings  cease ; — 
There  would  I  wait  old  age  in  peace, 

There  calmly  dwelling, 
A  truce  to  war ! — a  long  release 

From  "  coloneHing !" 


Tibur,  Argeo 
Positum  colono. 
Sit  mese  sedes 
irtinam  senectse ! 
Sit  modtu  lasso 
Maris,  et  viarum, 
Militiseque ! 


Wlience  to  go  forth  should  Fate  ordain, 
Galesus,  gentle  flood !  thy  plain 
Speckled  with  sheep — might  yet  remain 

For  heaven  to  grant  us ; 
Land  that  once  knew  the  halcyon  reign 

Of  King  PhalantuB. 


Unde  si  Parcse 
Prohibent  iniquffi, 
Dulce  pellitis 
Ovibus  Galesi 
Flumen,  et  regnata 
Petam  Laconi 
Bura  Phalanto. 


Spot  of  all  earth  most  dear  to  me ! 
Teeming  with  sweets !  the  Attic  bee, 
O'er  Mount  Hymettus  ranging  free, 

Finds  not  such  honey- 
Nor  basks  the  Capuan  oHve-tree 

In  soil  more  sunny. 


Hie  terrarum 
Mihi  prseter  omnes 
Angulus  ridet, 
TJbi  non  Hymetto 
Mella  decedunt, 
Viridique  certat 
Bacca  Venafro  j 


There  lingering  Spring  is  longest  found ; 
E'en  Winter's  breath  ia  mild; — and  round 
Delicious  Anion  grapes  abound, 

In  mellow  cluster ! 
Such  as  Falemum's  richest  ground 

Can  rarely  muster. 


Ver  ubi  longum, 
Tepidasque  preebet 
Jupiter  brumas. 
Ft  amicus  Aulou 
FertiU  Baoeho 
Minimum  Falemis 
luvidet  uvis. 


Komantie  towers !  thrice  happy  scene ! 
There  might  our  days  glide  on  serene ; 
TiU  thou  bedew  with  tears,  I  ween, 

Of  love  sincerest, 
Tlie  dust  of  him  who  once  had  been 

Thy  friend,  the  Lyrist ! 


lUe  te  meeum 
Locus  et  beatse 
Postulaqt  arces  ; 
Ibi  tu  calentem 
Debita  sparges 
Laerim^  faviUam 
Vatis  amioi. 


Extemporaneous  in  its  essence,  hearty,  glowing,  and 
glorious,  here  follows  an  effusion  of  affectionate  welcome 
to  one  of  the  young  Pompeys,  with  whom  he  had  studied 
at  Athens  and  fought  at  Philippi.  The  scene  is  at  the  Sa- 
bine farm.  The  exile,  it  will  be  seen,  has  only  just  returned 
on  the  general  amnesty  granted  by  Augustus. 


THE    SONQ-S   OP   HOBACE. 


481 


Lib.  II.  Ode  VII. — a  pellow-soldieb  "welcomed  mOM 

EXILE. 


Friend  of  my  soul !  with,  ■whom  arrayed 

I  stood  in  the  ranks  of  peril. 
When  Brutus  at  Philippi  made 

That  effort  wild  and  sterile . . . 
Who  hath  reopened  Eome  to  thee, 

Her  temples  and  her  forum ; 
Beckoning  the  child  of  Italy 

Back  to  the  clime  that  bore  liim  ? 

Thou,  O  my  earliest  comrade !  say, 

Pompey,  was  I  thy  teacher 
To  baulk  old  Time,  aiid  drown  the  day 

Deep  in  a  flowing  pitcher  ? 
Think  of  the  houTs  we  thus  consumed, 

While  Syria's  richest  odours, 
Lavish  of  fragrancy,  perfumed 

The  locks  of  two  marauders. 

With  thee  I  shared  Philipp?a  rout, 

Though  I,  methinks,  ran  faster ; 
Leaving  behind — 'twas  wrong,  no  doubt— 

My  SHIELD  in  the  disaster : 
E'en  Fortitude  that  day  broke  down  j 

And  the  rude  foeman  taught  her 
To  hide  her  brow's  diminished  frown 

Low  amid  heaps  of  slaughter. 

But  Mercury,  who  kindly  watched 

Me  'mid  that  struggle  deadly. 
Stooped  from  a  cloud,  and  quickly  snatched 

His  client  from  the  medley. 
AATiile  thee,  alas  !  the  ebbing  flood 

Of  war  relentless  swallowed, 
Sieplunging  thee  'mid  seas  of  blood ; 

And  years  of  tempest  followed. 

Then  slay  to  Jove  the  victim  calf, 

Due  to  the  &od ; — and  weary, 
Under  my  bower  of  laurels  quaif 

A  wine-cup  blithe  and  merry. 
Here,  whUe  thy  war-worn  limbs  repose, 

'Mid  peaceful  scenes  sojourning, 
Spare  not  the  wine. .  'twas  ke|)t. .  it  flows 

To  Welcome  thy  returning. 


O  ssepe  meeum 
Tempus  in  ultimum 
Deducte,  Bruto 
MUitiae  duce, 
Qnis  te  redonavit 

Quiritem 
Die  patriis, 

Italoque  ccelo. 

Pompei,  meorum 
Prime  sodalium, 
Cum  quo  mortmtem 
Ssepe  diem  mero 
BVegi,  coronatus 

Nitentes 
Malobathro 

SyriocapiUos? 

Tecum  PhiUppoS 
Et  celerem  fugam 
Sensi,  relicts 
Non  bene  parmuli, 
Quum  fracta  virtus, 

Et  minaces 
Turpe  solum 

Tetigere  mento. 

Sed  me  per  hostes 
Mercurius  celer 
Denso  paventum 
Sustuht  acre : 
Te  rursus  in  bellum 

Kesorbena 
tTnda  fttetis 

TuUt  eestuosis. 

Ergo  obligatam 
Bedde  Jovi  dapem 
LongSique  fessum 
Militi&  latus 
Depone  sub 

Lauro  me&,  neo 
Farce  cadis 

Tibi  destinatis. 
I  I 


482 


TATHEE   PEOTTT's   EElIQrES. 


Come,  with  obliTions  bowls  dispel 

Grief,  care,  and  disappointment ! 
Freely  from  yon  capacious  shell 

Shed,  shed  the  bahny  ointment ! 
Who  for  the  genial  banquet  weaves 

Giay  garlands,  gathered  newly ; 
Fresh  with  the  garden's  greenest  leaTes, 

Or  twined  with  myrtle  duly  ? 

Whom  shall  the  dice's  cast  "  wnTE-KOTa" 

Elect,  by  Venus  guided  ? 
Quick,  let  my  roof  with  wild  mirth  ring — 

Blame  not  my  joy,  nor  chide  it ! 
Madly  each  bacchanaUan  feat 

I  mean  to-day  to  rival. 
For,  oh !  'tis  sweet  thus  . . .  THira  to  sbeet 

So  DEAB  A  PEIBHB'S  AEEIVAI.  ! 

The  nursery  tradition  respecting  lies,  and  their  conse- 
quence, may  be  traced  in  the  opening  stanza  of  this  playful 
remonstrance  with  Baring.  The  image  of  Cupid  at  a  grind- 
ing stone,  sharpening  his  darts,  is  the  subject  of  a  fine  an- 
tique cameo  in  the  Orleans  Collection. 

Lib.  II.     Ode  VIII. — the  eogtteeies  of  baeine. 


Oblivioso 
Levia  Massico 
Ciboria  eiple ; 
Fuude  capacibus 
TJnguenta  de  conchii. 

Quis  udo 
Deproperare 

Apio  coronas 

Curatve  myrto  ? 
Quern  Yenus  arbitrum 
Dicet  bibendi  ? 
Non  ego  sanius 
Bacchabor  Edonis : 

Kecepto 
Dulce  mihi  furere 

Bst  amico ! 


m  BAEINEN. 

Bariue !  if,  for  each  untruth. 
Some  blemish  left  a  mark  uncouth, 
With  loss  of  beauty  and  of  youth, 

Or  Heaven  should  alter 
The  whiteness  of  a  single  tooth — 

O  fair  defaulter ! 


Then  might  I  trust  thy  words — But  thou 
Dost  triumph  o'er  each  broken  vow ; 
Falsehood  would  seem  to  give  thy  brow 

Increased  effulgence : 
Men  still  admire — and  gods  allow 

Thee  fresh  indulgence. 

Swear  by  thy  mother's  funeral  urn — 
Swear  by  the  stars  that  nightly  bum 
(Seeming  in  silent  awe  to  mourn 

O'er  such  deception) — 
Swear  by  each  Deity  in  turn, 

From  Jore  to  Neptune : 


"Dlla  si  juris 
Tibi  pejerati 
Poena,  Baring 
Nocuisset  unquam ; 
Dente  si  nigro 
Fieres  vel  uno 
Turpior  ungui, 

Crederem.    Sed  tu, 
Simul  obligasti 
Perfidum  votis 
Caput,  enitescis 
Pulchrior  multo, 
Juvenumque  prodi* 
PubUca  cura. 

Expedit  matris 
Cineres  opertos 
FaUere,  et  toto 
Tacituma  noctis 
Signa  cum  coelo, 
Oelid^ue  Divos 
Morf,e  careutes. 


THE    SABINE    FABMEE'b    SERENADE. 


483 


Venus  and  all  her  Nymphs  would  yet 
With  smiles  thy  perjury  abet — 
Cupid  would  laugh — Gro  on !  and  let 

Fresh  courage  nerye  thee : 
Still  on  his  bloodstained  wheel  he'U  whet 

His  darts  to  serve  thee ! 


Past  as  they  grow,  our  youths  enchain, 

Fresh  followers  in  beauty's  train : 

While  they  who  loved  thee  first  would  fain, 

Charming  deceiver, 
Within  thy  threshold  still  remain. 

And  love,  for  ever ! 


Their  sons  from  -thee  all  mothers  hide ; 
All  thought  of  thee  stem  fathers  chide ; 
Thy  shadow  haunts  the  new-made  bride, 

And  fears  dishearten  her, 
Lest  thou  inveigle  from  her  side 

Her  life's  young  partner. 


Bidet  hoc,  inquam, 
Venus  ipsa,  rident 
Simplices  Nymphse, 
Ferus  ef  Cupido, 
Semper  ardeutes 
Acuens  sagittas 
Cote  cruentft. 

Adde  quod  pubes 
Tibi  orescit  omnis ; 
Servitus  crescit  nova ; 
Neo  priores 
Impise  tectum 
Dominse  reHnquunt, 
Siepe  minati. 

Te  suis  matres 
Metuunt  juvenois, 
Te  senes  parci, . 
Misereeque  nuper 
Virgines  nuptse, 
Tua  ne  retardet 
Aura  maritos. 


THE  SABINE  PAEMEE'S  SEEENADE. 


Erat  turbida  nox 

Hor^  secunda  mane ; 
Quando  proruit  vox 

Carmen  in  hoc  inanS ; 
Viri  misera  mens 

Meditabatur  hymen, 
Hinc  pueUse  flens 

Stabat  obsidens  limen ; 

Semel  tantum  die 
Eris  nostra  IjAXAQ-b'  ; 

Ne  recuses  sic, 
Dulcia  Julia  Callage'.* 

Planctibus  aurem  fer, 
Venere  tu  formosior ; 

Die,  hos  mnros  per, 
Tuo  &vore  potior ! 


'Twas  on  a  windy  night. 

At  two  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
An  Irish  lad  so  tight, 

All  wind  and  weather  .scorning, 
At  Judy  Callaghan's  door. 

Sitting  upon  the  palings, 
His  love-tale  he  did  pour, 

And  this  was  part  of  his  wailings  :■ 

Only  say 
You'll  be  Mrs.  Brallaghcm  ; 

DorCt  say  nay. 
Charming  Judy  CaUaglum. 

Oh !  list  to  what  I  say, 

Charms  you've  got  like  Venus  ; 
Own  your  love  you  may. 

There's  but  the  wall  between  us. 


Callage,  contractio.    Venus  clicitur  iLaWmvyn- 


4S4 


TATHEE   PBOITT'S   EELIQTTES. 


Voce  beatum  fac  j 

En,  dum  dormis,  Tigilo, 
Kocte  obambulaiis  hhi 

Dommn  plauctu  stridulo. 

Semel  tantum  die 
Eris  nostra  LalaQJz'  ; 

Ne  recuses  sic, 
Dulcis  Julia  Callaqe'. 

Est  mihi  prsBgnans  sus, 

Et  poroelii?  etabulnm ; 
Villula,  grex,  et  rus* 

Ad  Taccarum  pabulum ; 
Perils  oemeres  me 

Spleudido  vestimento, 
Tunc,  heus !  qu^m  bene  te 

Teherem  in  jumento  \\ 

Semel  tantum  die 
Eris  nostra  LALAas'  •. 

Ne  recuses  sic, 
Dulcis  Julia  Callage'. 

Vis  poma  terrse  ?  sum 

Uno  dires  jugere ; 
Vis  lac  et  mella,t  ciim 

Baoobi  buoco,§  sugere? 


You  lie  fast  asleep, 

Snug  in  bed  and  snoring 
Bound  the  house  I  creep, 

Your  hard  heart  imploring. 

Only  say 
You'll  have  Mr.  Brallaghan  ; 

Dor^t  say  nay. 
Charming  Judy  Callaghan. 

IVe  got  a  pig  and  a  sow, 

I've  got  a  sty  to  sleep  'em  ; 
A  calf  and  a  brindled  cow, 

And  a  cabin  too,-  to  keep  'em ; 
Sunday  hat  and  coat, 

An  old  grey  mare  to  ride  on ; 
Saddle  and  bridle  to  boot, 

Which  you  may  ride  astride  on. 

Only  say 
You'll  be  Mrs.  Srallaghan  ; 

Don't  say  nay. 
Charming  Judy  Callaghan, 

I've  got  an  acre  of  ground) 
I've  got  it  set  with  praties  ; 

I've  got  of  'baccy  a  pound, 

I've  got  some  tea  for  the  ladies ; 


*  1°  in  voce  rus.  Nonne  potiils  legendum  jus,  scilicet,  ad  vaccarum 
pabulum  ?  De  hoe^ure  apud  Sabinos  agricolas  consule  Scriptores  de  re 
rmticd  passim.     Ita  Bentleins. 

Jus  imo  antiquissimum,  at  displicet  vox  sequivoca ;  jus  etenim  a  mess 
ofpotage  aliquando  audit,  ex.  gr. 

Omne  suum  fratri  Jacob  jus  vendidit  Esau, 
Et  Jacob  fratri ^'«s  dedit  omne  suum. 

Itaque,  pace  Bentleii,  stet  lectio  prior. — Prout. 

+  Veherem  in  jumento.  Curriculo-ne  ?  an  ponfe  sedentem  in  equi 
dorse  ?  dorsaliter  planfe.  Quid  enim  dicit  Horatius  de  uxore  sic  vectA  ? 
Wonne  "  1  ost  eguitem  sedet  atra  cura  ?" — Porson. 

J  Lac  et  mella.  Metaphoricfe  pro  tea  ;  muliebris  est  compotatio 
Q-rsecis  non  ignota,  teste  Anacreonte, — 

©EON,  Slav  Qiaivriv, 
@iKia  Af  ysiv  iTdipat,  k.  t.  \. 

Brougham. 
Duplex  apud  poetas  antiquiores  habebatur  hnjusoe 
"Vineam  regebat  prius ;  posterius  cuidam  herbse  ex- 
otiose  prseerat  quss  tobacco  audit.     Succus  utriqae  optimus. — Coleridge. 


§  Bacchisucco 
nominis  numen. 


THE    SABllTE   FAEMEe's    SEEENABE. 


485 


Vis  aqusD-vitBB  vim  ?  * 

Plumoso  somnum  saoculo  ?  t 
Vis  ut  paratus  sim 

Vel  annulo  vd  baoulo  ?  J 

Semel  tantum  die 
Eris  nostra  LALAas' ; 

Ne  recuses  sicj 
Dulcis  Julia  CallaQe'. 

Litteris  operam  das ; 

Lucido  fulges  oculo ; 
Dotes  insuper  quas 

Nmnmi  sunt  in  loonlo. 
Novi  quod  apta  sis  § 

Ad  prooreandam  sobolem ! 
Possides  (uesciat  quis  F  ) 

Liuguam  satis  mobUem.  || 

Semel  tantum  die 
Eris  nostra  Laiage'  ; 

Ne  recuses  sic, 
Dulcis  Julia  Calia&e'. 


I've  got  the  ring  to  wed, 

Some  whisky  to  make  us  gaily ; 

I've  got  a  feather  bed, 
And  a  handsome  new  shilelagh. 

Only  say 
You'll  have  Mrs:  Brallaghan  ; 

Don't  say  nay. 
Charming  Judy  Callaghan. 

You've  got  a  charming  eye,         [ing ; 

You've  got  some  spelling  and  read- 
You've  got,  and  so  have  I, 

A  taste  for  genteel  breeding ; 
You're  rich,  and  fair,  and  young, 

As  everybody's  knowing ; 
You've  got  a  decent  tongue 

Whene'er  'tis  set  a  going. 

Only  say 
You'll  have  Mr.  Brallaghan  ; 

Dont  say  nay, 
Charming  Judy  Callaghan. 


Conjux  utinam  tu 

Keres,  lepidum  cor,  mi ! 
Halitum  perdimus,  heu, 

Te  sopor  urget.    Dormi ! 


For  a  wife  till  death 
I  am  willing  to  take  ye ! 

But,  och !  I  waste  my  breath. 
The  devil  himself  can't  wake  ye. 


•  Ajua-vitce  vim,  Aaglo-Hybermce,  "  a  power  of  whiskey"  iffp^vj, 
sciUcet,  vox  pergrseoa. — Parr. 

t  Plumoso  sacco.  Plumarum  congeries  certe  ad  somnos  invitandos 
satis  apta ;  at  mihi  per  multos  annos  laneus  iste  saccus,  Ang.  woolsack, 
fuit  apprim^  ad  dormiendum  idoneus.  Lites  etiam  de  land  ut  aiunt  ca- 
prind,  soporiferas  per  annos  xxx.  exercui.  Quot  et  quam  prseclara 
Bomnia ! — Eldon. 

J  Investitura  "per  annulum  et  bacnlum,"  satis  nota.  Vide  P.  Marca 
de  Concord.  Sacerdotii  et  Imperii :  et  Hildebrandi  Pont.  Max.  bnlla- 
rium. — Prout. 

Baculo  cert^  dignissim.  pontif. — Maginn. 

^  §  Apta  sis.  Quomodo  noverit  ?  Vide  Proverb.  Solomonis,  cap.  xxx. 
V.  19.  Nisi  forsau  tales  fuerint  pueUee  Sabinorum  quales  impudens  iste 
balatro  Connelius  mentitur  esse  uostrates, — Blomfield. 

11  Linguam  mobilem.  Prius  enumerat  fatureeconjugis  bonammoitVta, 
postea  transit  ad  mobilia,  Anglice,  chattel  property.  Prsclarus  ordo 
eententiarum  ! — Car,  WetheraU. 


4sa 


TATHEE   PEOn'S   EELIQUES. 


Ingruit  imber  trux — 

Jam  sub  tecto  pellitur 
Is  quem  crastina  lux* 

Referet  huo  fideliter. 

Semel  tantum  die 
Eris  nostra  LALAaE'  j 

Ne  recuses  sic, 
Dulcis  Julia  CAI<I/Aa£', 


'Tis  just  beginning  to  rain, 

So  I'll  get  under  cover ; 
To-morrow  I'll  eome  again, 

And  be  your  constant  lover. 

Onlp  say 
You'll  be  Mrs.  Brallaghan  : 

Don't  say  nay. 
Charming  Judy  Callaghan, 


TO  THE  HOT  WELLS  OF  CLIFTON. 

nf  PEAISE   or  EUM-PUNCn. 

A  Triglot  Ode,  viz. 
lo  TlLvSapov  jrtpi  ptvfiaTOQ  i^Srj. 
2'  Horatii  in  fontem  Bristolii  carmen. 
3°  '^  l^elick  (unpubUstjeS)  of  *'t]^e  unCottunate  eC^attetton.' 

POTDAB.  HOBAOE. 

O  fons  Bristolii 
Hoc  magis  in  vitro 
Dulci  digne  mero 
Non  sine  floribus 
Tas  impleveris 
UndS. 

Mel  Bolvente 
Caloribus. 


ni;yq  BptirroXiaj 

Ma\\oi'  fv  vaXtft 

AafiTTovc'  avQici  aw 

yiKTapog  a^ir) 

2'  avT\(D 

Tivitari  -roXKiff 

Mitryiav 

Kat  /tfXtrog  TToXu. 

Avi/p  Ki^v  Tig  ipq,v 
^ovXtTai  ij  fia-^Tgy* 
2iu  ^aKxov  KaSapov 
2oi  iiaxpiavvvoH 
^oivtp 

&  aifiari  va/ia' 
TlpoBviiOt  re 
Tax'  (""trai. 

2c  fXeyfi  atOaXoev 

Sitpiov  aaripOQ 

Apjuo^ct  TrXwropi* 

Sw  KpvoQ  7)dvv  ev 

NiyffOig 

AvriKiaaKn 

IToKic 

K'  ai9ioTiav  ^v\if. 


Si  quis  vel  venerem 
Aut  prffllia  cogitat. 
Is  Baoohi  oalidos 
luficiet  tibi 
Kubro  sanguine 
Eivos, 

Fiet  protinuB 
Impiger ! 

Te  flagrante  bibax 
Ore  caniculA 
Sugit  navita :  tn 
Prigus  amabile 
Pessis  vomere 
Mauris 
Prsebes  ac 
Eomini  nigro. 


CHATTBETOir. 

S  ken  Qouc  toaiti;), 

"  •J^ottoiUs  "  of  IBxistol, 

^^at  ii:iii6U  forti^ 

^s  clear  as  nsstal;..., 

In  parlour  snug 

HE'S  tnisi)  no  {)otur 

Via  mix  a  Jug 

®t  )aum  antr  astater. 

Botb  lEobt,  joung  ci)iel, 
©ne's  Josom  tuKe? 
SSEtonlu  ann  feci 
BRfpt  fat  a  scufttc  ? 
S[i)c  simplest  plan 
Is  |ust  to  ta&e  a 
JKcll  Btiftenen  can 
®i  olD  Samaica. 

IScncatfi  ti)c  ?onc 
®rdg  In  a  pail  or 
^um — beat  alone — 
Beligbts  ii)e  sailor. 
Sbe  can  {)e  stDills 
^lone  gibes  bigout 
Sn  tiie  Antilles 
So  bai)it(  or  nigger. 


*  Allusio  ad  distichon  Maronianum, 

"Koote  pluit  tota  redeunl  speelaeula  mani." 

K.  r.  A* 


Prout. 


MOLLT   CAEEW. 


487 


KprfvaiQ  IV  re  xaXaic 

EcriTEat  ayXat) 

2'  tv  KoiXqt  KvXaKi 

'^V&e^tiVTJV  tUiQ 
tflVTItTti}, 

AaXov  f^  ov 

Sov  le  piv/ia  KaOdKKcTat, 


Pies  nobilium 
Tu  quoc[ue  fontimn 
Me  dicente ;  oavrun 
Dam  calieem  reples 
TTmamque 
TJnde  loquaoes 
Lymphse 
PesiHuiit  tuffi.    . 


?T,j)p  tiafma,  ©  {onm, 
Bescrbe  attention . 
l^cnccfoTtnai'tf  taunt 
®n  classic  mention. 
lEttS^t  pleasant  stnfi 
Ettne  to  tl)elip  is.. .. 
WAt  'be  l)aS  enougj^ 
&t  Aganippe's. 


MOLLY  CAEEW. 


TO  THE  HABD-HEABTED  MOLIY 
OAEEW,  THE  LAMENT  OB  HEB 
lEISH  LOTEE. 

OCE  hone ! 

Oh !  what  will  I  do  ? 
Sure  my  love  is  all  orost, 
Like  a  bud  in  the  frost  . .  . 

And  there's  no  use  at  all 
In  my  going  to  bed  ;         , 
'For  'tis  dhrames,  and  not  sleep. 
That  comes  into  my  head  .  .  . 

And  'tis  all  about  you. 
My  sweet  MoUy  Carew, 
And  indeed  'tis  a  sin 
And  a  shame. — 

Tou're  complater  than  nature 
In  every  feature ; 
The  snow  can't  compare 
To  your  forehead  so  fair  j 
And  I  rather  would  spy 
Just  one  blink  of  your  eye 
Than  the  purtiest  star 
That  shines  out  of  the  sky  ; 
Tho" — by  this  and  by  that ! 
For  the  matter  o'  that — 
Tou're  more  distant  by  far 
Than  that  same. 

Och  hone,  wierasthrew ! 
I  am  alone 
In  this  world  without  you '. 

Oeh  hone ! 

But  why  should  I  speak 
Of  your  forehead  and  eyes, 
When  your  nose  it  defies 


AD  MGLIiaSIMAM  PXTELIAM  B  ftE- 
IIOA  OAEUABTJM  EAMIIIA  OTI- 
Dins  NA80  LAMEKTAT0B. 

Heu!  heu! 

Me  tsedet,  me  piget  o  ! 
Cor  mihi  riget  o  1 
Ut  floE  sub  frigido  .  .  . 

Sit  nox  ipsa  mi  tum 
Cum  vado  dormittim. 
Infausta,  insomuia, 
Transourritur  omnis  ■  .  . 

Hoc  culp^  fit  tu& 
Ml,  moUis  Carfta, 
Sic  mibi  Uludens, 
If  60  pudens. — 

Prodigium  tu,  re 
Es,  veri,  naturae, 
Candidior  lacte ; — 
Plus  fpoute  cum  hdc  te, 
Cimi  istis  ocellis. 
Plus  omnibus  stellis 
Mehercule  veUem. — 
Sed  heu,  me  imbellem ! 
A  me,  qui  sum  fidus. 
Vel  ultimum  sidus 
Kon  distat  te  magis  .  .  . 
Quid  agis ! 

Heu !  heu !  nisi  tu 
Me  ames, 
Pereo!  piUaleu! 

Heu!  heu! 

Sed  our  sequar  laude 
OceUos  aut  &ontem 
Si  ITASI,  cum  fraude, 


488 


TATHEa  PBOri'S  SXLIQUDS. 


Faddy  Blake  the  schoolmaster 

To  put  it  in  rhyme  ? — 
Though  there's  one  Bubkb, 
He  Gajs, 
T^o  would  call  it  SnuiUme  .  .  . 

And  then  for  your  cheek, 
Throth,  'twould  take  him  a  week 
Its  beauties  to  tell 
As  he'd  rather : — 

Then  your  lips,  O  machree ! 
In  their  beautiful  glow 
They  a  pattern  might  be 
For  the  cherries  to  grow. — 
'Twas  an  apple  that  tempted 
Oiu:  mother,  we  know ; 
For  apples  were  scarce 
I  suppose  long  ago  : 
But  at  this  time  o'day, 
'Pon  my  conscience  I'll  say, 
Such  eherries  might  tempt 
A  man's  father ! 

Oeh  hone,  wierasthrew ! 
I'm  alone 
In  this  world  without  you  ! 

Och  hone ! 

By  the  man  in  the  moon  ! 
You  teaze  me  all  ways 
That  a  woman  can  plaze ; 

For  you  dance  twice  as  high 
With  that  thief  Pat  Macghee 
As  when  you  take  share 
Of  a  jig,  dear,  with  me ; 

Though  the  piper  I  bate, 
For  fear  the  ould  ohate 
Wouldn't  play  you  yoiu* 
Favourite  tune. 

And  when  you're -at  Mass 
My  devotion  you  crass, 
For  'tis  thinking  of  you 
I  am,  Molly  Carew ; 
While  you  wear  on  purpose 
A  bonnet  so  deep. 
That  I  can't  at  your  sweet 
Pretty  face  get  a  peep. 
Oh !  lave  off  that  bonnet. 
Or  else  I'll  lave  on  it 
The  loss  of  my  wandering 
'  Bowl ! 


Prsetereo  pontem  ?  . . . 

Ast  hie  ego  min&s 
Qukm  ipse  LoNGiiriTS 
In  verbis  exprimem 
Hunc  nasum  sublimem ... 

De  floridS,  genS 
Vulgaris  camcena 
Cantaret  in  vanum 
Per  annum. — 

Turn,  tibi  puella ! 
Sic  tument  labeUa 
TJt  nil  plus  jucuudum 
Sit,  ant  rubicundum ; 
Si  primitiis  homo 
CoUapsus  est  pomo, 
Si  dolor  et  luotus 
Venerunt  per  fruotuB, 
Proh !  ffitas  nunc  serior 
Ne  cadat,  vereor, 
Icta  tam  hello 
Labello  ! 

Heu  !  heu  I  nisi  tu 
Me  ames, 
Pereo !  pUlaleu ! 

Heu !  heu ! 

Per  cornua  lunse 
Perpetud  tu  ne 
Me  vexes  impvmfe  ?  .  . . 

I  nunc  choro  salta 
(Mac-ghius  nam  teoiim) 
Plants  magis  alt& 
Qu^m  sueveris  meeum ! . .  • 

Tibicinem  quando 
Cogo  fustigando 
Ne  falsum  det  melos, 
Anhelus. — 

A  te  in  sacello 
Vix  mentem  revello, 
Heu !  miser^  scissam 
Te  inter  et  Missam  j 
Tu  latitas  vero 
Tam  stricto  galero 
Xrt  cernere  vultum 
Desiderem  multiim. 
Ft  dubites  jam,  nhm 
(Ob  animse  damnum) 
Sit  fas  hunc  deberi 
Auferri  ? 


THE    PAINTES,    BAEET. 


Och  hone !  liJce  an  owl. 
Day  is  night, 
Dear,  to  me  without  you ! 

Och  hone ! 

Don't  provoke  me  to  do  it ; 
For  there's  girls  by  the  score 
That  lores  me,  and  more. 

And  you'd  look  very  queer, 
If  some  morning  you'd  meet 
My  wedding  all  marching 
In  pride  down  the  street. 

Throth  you'd  open  your  eyes. 
And  you'd  die  of  surprise 
To  think  'twasn't  you 
Was  come  to  it. 

And  faith!  KattyNaile 
And  her  cow,  I  go  bail, 
-Would  jump  if  I'd  say, 
"  Katty  Naile,  name  the  day." 
And  though  you're  fair  and  fresh 
As  the  blossoms  of  May, 
And  she's  short  and  dark 
Like  a  cowld  winter's  day, 
Yet,  if  you  don't  repent 
Before  Easter, — when  Lent 
Is  over — I'U  marry 
For  spite. 

Och  hone !  and  when  I 
Die  for  you, 
'Tis  ray  ghost  that  you'll  see  every 

night ! 


Eeu !  heu !  nisi  tu 
Cor^  sis 
CsecUB  sim  :  eleleu  1 

Heu!  heu! 

Non  me  provoeato, 
Nam  virginum  sat,  o ! 
Stant  mihi  amato  .  .  . 

Bt  stuperes  planS, 
Si  ahquo  manS 
Me  spousum  videres ; 
Hoc  quomodo  ferres  p 

Quid  diceres,  si  cuni 
Triumpho  per.vicum, 
Maritus  it  ibi, 
If  on  tibi ! 

Ft  pol !  Catharinse 
Cui  vaoca,  (tu,  sine) 
Si  proferem  hymen 
Grande  esset  diserimen ; 
Tu  quamvis,  hio  aio, 
Sis  blandior  Maio, 
Et  hsec  calet  rariiis 
Qukn  Jauuarius  ; 
Si  non  mutas  bran, 
Hauo  mihi  decrevi 
(Ut  sic  ultus  forem) 
tJxorem ; 

Turn  posthko  diii 
Me  spectrum 
Verebere  tu  .  .  . 

Eleleu ! 


THE  PAINTEE,  BAEET. 

"Rmne,  1769. 
"  Wothing  could  have  made  me  more  really  happy  than  your  very 
Mnd  letter.     It  came  most  opportunely  to  support  my  spirits  at  a  time 
when  I  was  iU  of  a  fever,  which  I  believe  was  occasioned  by  a  cold 
caught  while  working  in  the  Vatican." 

James  Barry  (R.A.)  to  (Sir)  Joshua  Reynolds. 
"  Apparet  domus  intus  et  atria  longa  pateseunt. 
Apparent  Priami  et  veterum  penetralia  regum." — jSneid  If. 
His  magic  wand  Prout  waves  again,  and  opes 
Those  hallowed  halls  inhabited  by  Popes ; 
Where  (through  an  odd  rencontre  that  befell)  he 
Enjoys  some  "  table  talk"  with  G-amganelli. — O.  T. 


490  TATHEE  PEOTJT'S   EELIQUES. 

The  historian  on  'whom  will  devolve  the  task  of  tracing, 
"  a  la  Gibbon,"  the  decline  and  fall  of  English  literature, 
must  devote  an  ample  chapter  to  writers  of  romance.  This 
class  has  obtained  an  undue  predominance.  A  motley  and 
undisciplined  horde,  emerging  from  their  native  haunts  on  the 
remote  boundary  of  the  literary  domain,  have  rushed  down 
with  a  simultaneous  war-whoop  on  the  empire  of  learning,  and 
threaten  not  to  leave  a  vestige  of  sober  knowledge  or  classic 
taste  throughout  the  range  of  their  Vandal  incursions  ;  no 
memorable  transaction  of  bygone  centuries  is  held  sacred 
from  the  rude  inroad  and  destructive  battle-axe  of  the 
"  HisTOEiCAi. "  novelist.  The  ghost  of  Froissart  revisits 
nightly  the  glimpses  of  the  moon  to  complain  of  those  who 
molest  and  torture  his  simple  spirit ;  Rapin,  Matthew  Paris, 
HoUinshed,  De  Thou,  Hume,  Clarendon,  and  Eobertson, 
undergo  a  post  mortem  persecution,  which  those  chroniclers 
scarce  anticipated  as  the  fruit  of  their  learned  labours.  The 
sisterhood  of  the  sacred  valley  have  taken  the  affair  sadly  to 
heart ;  and  each  Muse  in  her  turn  sheds  a  tear  of  condolence 
over  the  disfigured  page  of  Clio. 

Nor  has  individual  biography  been  exempt  from  devasta- 
tion. Eichelieu,  Cromwell,  Will.  Wallace,  Henri  Quatre, 
Cardinal  Borromeo,  Queen  Elizabeth,  Brinsley  Sheridan, 
and  a  host  of  victims,  have  been  immolated  with  barbarous 
rites  on  the  shrine  of  Colburn  and  Bentley.  After  disinter- 
ring by  dozens  the  memorable  dead  who  fain  would  sleep  in 
Westminster  Abbey,  these  goules  have  traversed  the  conti- 
nent, with  vampire  voracity,  in  quest  of  prey  ;  few  are  the 
characters  of  European  celebrity  that  have  not  fed  their  in- 
discriminate insatiate  maw.  Nay,  as  if  modern  history  did 
not  afford  scope  for  the  exercise  of  their  propensities,  they 
have  invaded  the  privacy  of  Roman  life,  to  insult  the  "lares," 
to  desecrate  the  household  gods  of  ancient  Italy;  and  in 
the  Last  Bays  of  Pompeii,  an  attempt  is  made  to  impute 
modern  foppery,  with  all  its  concomitant  peculiarities,  to 
the  masters  of  the  world. 

"  Et,  sous  des  noma  Romains,  faiaant  notre  portrait — 
Peindre  Caton  galant,  et  Brutus  dameret." 

BoiLEAF,  A.  P.  chant  iii. 

All  this  is  done  for  the  purpose  of  being  read  by  sentimental 


THE   PAINTEE,   BAEET.  401 

spinsters,  school-governesses,  and  linendrapers'  apprentices, 
to  whom  "circulating  libraries"  look  for  support  and  encou- 
ragement. 

The  poet  Lucan  has  a  passage  in  his  Pharsalia,  wherein 
he  relates  that  when  rude  peasants  sought  to  disturb  the 
sepulchre  of  Maeitjs,  the  old  Eoman  skeleton  started  up  ia 
anger,  and  with  a  posthumous  glance  scared  the  sacrilegious 
wretches  from  his  grave. 

"  Tristja  Syllani  ceeinere  oraoula  manes, 
Tollentemque  caput  gelidtis  Anienis  ad  undas, 
Agricolae  fraoto  M a tciitm  effugfere  sepnlchro." — (Lib.  i.  adfinem.) 

Which  the  Prench  professor,  Laharpe,  has  so  beautifully 
rendered — 

"  Du  soo  de  la  charrue,  on  dit,  qu'un  laboureur 
Entr'ouTiit  une  tombe,  et  saisi  d'epouvsuife 
Vit  Maeitjs  lever  sa  tete  menafante, 
Et  lea  oheveux  epars,  le  front  cicatrisS, 
S'asseoir  pale  et  tremblaut  sur  sou  tombeaii  brise." 

Ought  not  apprehension  of  outbreak  from  the  injured  tenants- 
of  the,  tomb  to  deter  those  resurrection-men  from  practising 
their  horrid  trade  on  the  classic  subjects  of  Grreece  and 
E«me  ? 

It  is  unfair  to  accuse  Sir  Walter  Scott  of  being  the  parent 
of  this  literary  monster  :  it  was  full  grown,  or  in  its  teens, 
when  HE  adopted  it,  flinging  the  mantle  of  his  genius  over 
its  native  deformity.  Towards  the  close  of  the  last  century, 
the  muse  of  a  French  abb^  Maemontel,  brought  it  forth 
in  les  Incas  and  Belisaire ;  Plorian  stood  sponsor  to  the 
urchin  in  Numa  Pompilius  and  Gonsalve  de  Cordoue ;  Jane 
Porter  acted  the  part  of  wet  nurse  in  Thaddeus  of  Warsaw. 

We  have  been  led  into  these  remarks  by  the  circumstance 
of  meeting  among  the  papers  of  our  sacerdotal  sage  a  sin- 
gular account  of  men  and  of  things  which  now  belong  to 
history — a  narrative  which,  did  we  not  deprecate  the  im- 
putation, might  be  taken  for  an  "  historical  romance." 

OLIVEE  TOEKB. 

WatergrassMll,  March,  1830. 
I  have  been  a  sojourner  in  many  lands.    In  youth  I  felt 
the  full  value  of  that  vigorous  period's  unwasted  energies, 


492  FATHEB   PEOTTT's    EELIQTJES. 

and  took  care  that  my  faculties  of  body  and  mind  should -not 
be  sluggishly  folded  in  a  napkin,  and  hidden  beneath  the 
clod  of  my  native  isle.  Hence,  wafted  joyfully  o'er  the 
briny  barrier  that  encloses  this  unfortunate  "  gem  of  the 
western  world,"  I  early  landed  on  the  shores  of  continental 
Europe,  and  spent  my  best  and  freshest  years  in  visiting  her 
cities,  her  collegiate  haUs,  her  historic  ruins,  her  battle 
fields.     Moore  and  I  may  say  with  truth,  that 

"  We  haye  roamed  through  this  world." 

But  my  proceedings  (unlike  Tommy's)  bore  no  resemblance 
to  the  conduct  of  "  a  child  at  a  feast."  It  was  not  in  pur- 
suit of  pleasure  that  /  rambled  through  distant  provinces  : 
neither,  Kke  "  ChUde  Harold,"  did  I  travel  to  stifle  the 
voice  of  remorse — to 

"  Fling  forgetfiilness  around  me." 

I  had  other  views.  A  transient,  but  not  unobservant  pil- 
grim, I  have  kept  the  even  tenor  of  my  way  through  many 
a  foreign  tract  of  interesting  country  ;•  rarely  mingling  in 
the  busy  hum  of ,  men,  though  carefully  noting  down  with 
meditative  mind  the  discrepancies  of  national  thought  and 
feeling  as  I  went  along.  Keenly  awake  to  each  passing  oc- 
currence in  the  cities  where  I  dwelt,  though,  Hke  the 
stranger  at  Carthage,  myself  unperceived : 

"  Per  medioB,  miscetque  viris  ueque  cem^tur  ulli." — {jEneid  I.) 

But  I  have  paused  longest  at  Eome.  Not  that  other 
cities  were  divested  of  attraction  ;  but  at  no  inferior  thresh- 
old, at  no  minor  shrine,  could  I  be  induced  to  depose  the 
staff,  the  scrip,  and  the  scallop  shell.  Even  now,  in  the  de- 
crepitude of  age,  the  reminiscences  of  the  seven  hills,  re- 
freshing the  verdant  enthusiasm  of  my  boyhood,  return 
sweetly,  welcomed  like  the  visits  of  early  friendship  ;  although 
I  had  an  opportunity  of  renewing  my  acquaintanceship  with 
the  cities  of  Prance  some  thirty  years  ago,  at  the  peace  of 
Amiens,  stiU  the  recollections  of  my  Eoman  sojourn,  bearing 
the  remote  millessimo  of  1769,  have  kept  themselves  (to  use 
a  consecrated  expression)  "  greener"  in  my  soul.  0  Eome ! 
how  much  better  and  more  profitable  do  I  feel  it  to  dwell  ia 
epirit,  amid  the  ruins  of  thy  monumental  soil,  than  corpo- 


'XHE    PAINTEE,    BAEET.  493 

jreally  to  reside  in  the  most  brilliant  of  modem  capitals. 
Quanta  miniis  est  chm  reliquis  versari  quam  tui  meminisse  ! 

There  is  a  splendid  song  by  some  English  bard,  highly  ex- 
pressive  of  the  patriotic  attachment  that  he  must  have  felt  for 
the  island  of  his  birth — enhanced  by  a  reference  to  the  proud 
position  it  holds  among  the  countries  of  Europe  in  arms,  in 
arts,  in  all  the  comforts  of  civilisation,  commerce,  and  free- 
dom ;  the  soul  of  the  composition  is  exhaled  in  that  brief 
condensation  of  impassioned  eulogy,  "  England,  the  Home 
of  the  World !"  What  this  country  now  is,  Eome  was. 
Seneca  terms  it  (in  his  treatise  De  Consolatione,  cap.  6) 
communem  gentibus  patriam ;  the  idea  is  re-echoed  by  the 
naturalist  PHay  (lib.  35,  cap.  5).  The  sensitive  Mantuan 
shepherd  dwells  on  it  vrith  complacency. 

"  Berum  pulcherrima  Koma  !" 

Nor  less  perceptible  are  Horace's  affections,  when  that  ge- 
nuine specimen  of  a  Eoman  "  man  on  town"  slyly  ex- 
horts some  friend  to  try  the  effects  of  rustication — 

"  Omitte  mirari  beatce 
Pumuin  et  opes  strepitumque  Eomse  ! " 

Ovid's  case  is  more  peculiarly  interesting.  He  who  had 
formed  the  chief  ornament  of  polished  society,  the  sought- 
for  and  the  caressed  of  every  Eoman  boudoir,  the  arbiter  of 
refinement  and  elegance  at  the  brilliant  court  of  Augustus, 
is  suddenly  banished  to  Scythia ;  a  province  much  resembling 
the  bogs  of  modem  Iveragh,  or  the  wilderness  of  Conne- 
mara.  In  so  woful  a  predicament,  is  it  to  be  wondered  that 
he  should  envy  his  books,  which  would  go  through  so  many 
editions  in  the  capital,  and  be  handed  about  in  every  circle, 
while  he  himself  was  pining  among  the  tasteless  brutes  and 
ignorant  savages  of  the  paludes  Propontidis  T 

"  Parve . . .  sine  me  liber  ibis  in  TJrbem, 
Hei  mihi,  quo  Domino  non  licet  ire  tuo  !" 

In  the  decline  of  the  empire,  that  eminent  scholar  and 
highly-gifted  writer,  St.  Jerome,  having  withdrawn  from  the 
fascinations  of  the  Eternal  City  to  a  romantic  hermitage  in 
Palestine,  complained  sadly  that  his  retirement  was  invaded, 
and  his  solitude  perpetually  haunted,  by  certain  fairy  visions 
of  Home,  as  is  recorded  by  Erasmus  in  the  life  of  the  saint 


494  FATHEE   PSOUt'S    EELIQTIES. 

prefixed  to  the  editio  princeps.. .  (.S""'  Hieronomi  Opera,  t.  1, 
folio,  BasiletE,  1526.) 

But  Eome  was  not  recommended  to  my  affections  and 
cherished  in  my  heart  merely  because  of  her  Pagan  excel- 
lence, her  martial  glory,  her  literary  fame.  I  aspired  to  the 
Christian  priesthood  in  that  city  which  the  code  of  Justinian, 
in  the  absence  of  mere  scriptural  warrant,  calls  the  fountaia 
of  sacerdotal  honour — "fans  saeerdotii  ;"  in  that  city  which 
St.  Prosper,  a  graceful  poet  (a.d.  470),  addressed  in  terms 
of  veneration  and  endearment : 

"  Sedes  Boma  Petri,  quse  pastoralis  honoris 
Pacta  caput  mundo  quidquid  non  possidet  armie, 
BeUigione  tenet ; " 

whUe  a  modern  French  poet,  the  unfortunate  Q-ilbert,  has 
characterised  that  capital  as 

"  Vbuvb  d'un  people  roi,  mais  beinb  encore  du  monde !" 

I  looked  on  Rome  as  the  cemetery  of  the  thousand  maettes 
whose  ashes  commingle  there  with  the  dust  of  the  Scipios, 
and  whose  bones  (to  use  the  strange  words  of  the  Bishop  of 
Antioch,  Ignatius)  were  ground  into  flour  by  the  lions  of 
the  amphitheatre,  to  become  the  bread  of  Christ ;  and  there- 
fore I  looked  on  Eome  with  the  eyes  of  old  Chrysostom, 
whose  declaration  comes  fresh  on  my  memory  ;  commenting 
on  Paul's  epistle  to  the  Eomans,  he  exclaims  :  Eyai  xai  Tt^i 
Fii/irjv  hia  touto  (piku>  xai  /iaxaj;^w  or/  xai  ^aiv  auToig  imovs  y[i 
xai  Tov  l3iov  ixii  xanKvei.  Aio  xai  ivierj/j^og  tj  toX/j  ivTiuhv,  7) 
airo  Tiiiv  aWuv  wjravriav  xai  xaSa,'!reg  eu/jiO,  f/^sya  xai  ig^v^ov 
ofdaXfLOus  lyii  hw  Xaf/,<!rovrag,  rm  ayiuv  tovtihv  ra  irw/*aro. 
l&KeiSiv  a^vdytisiro  TlauXog,  ixuhv  Usrgos-Ei'i'oiiifars  Tt  xai  (pl'^ari 
oitv  o-v)/£ro  hafia  Pw//.?j,  tov  Haifkov  i^aKpvrig  avieTa/j,ivov  an  !-»js 
drixrig  ixeivrjg  /MTa  Tlir^ov,  xai  ai^ofiiivov  iig  airavrrjeiv  rou  Ku^/ou, 
Oia  airoeTikXii  rifi  X^isrui  goSa  tj  Poi/iri.  {Homilia  in  Epist. 
Paul,  ad  Bomanos,  ad  finem^  An  effusion,  thrilling  with 
enthusiasm,  the  spirit  of  which  may  be  recognised  in  the 
hymn  by  St.  Prudentius,  in  the  fifth  century,  for  the  joint 
festival  of  Peter  and  Paul : 

"  O  Boma  felix,  qute  duorum  prinoipum 
Es  conaeorata  glorioso  sanguine, 
Horum  cruore  purpurata  caeteras 
«  ExcelUa  orbis  una  pUlohritudines !" 

Bx  officio  Breviar,  Rom.  29  Jwiii. 


THE   PAINTEE,   BAEaT.  495 

This  topic  must  not,  however,  lead  me  away  from  the  sub- 
ject matter  of  to-night's  paper ;  an  occurrence  that  befell 
myself  and  my  old  schoolfellow,  the  painter  Barry,  in  the 
capital  of  the  Christian  world.  In  the  course  of  these  com- 
positions I  have  felt  conscious  of  over-freely  indulging  in 
illustration  and  soliloquy.  I  apologise  for  trespassing,  and 
I  do  so  without  availing  msyelf  of  the  excuse  an  erratic 
iPrench  poet  gives : 

"  Pardon,  messieiirB,  si  je  m'Igare,  I've  got  a  favilt,  I  cannot  hinder — 
C'est  que  j'imite  iin  peu  Piiidare !"   A  knack  of  imitating  Pindar. 

It  was  towards  the  close  of  the  autumn  of  1769  that  I 
reached  the  Eternal  City.  "With  rapturous  exultation  I 
caught  a  glimpse,  from  the  heights  above  the  "Pons  Mil- 
vius,"  of  that  glorious  landscape  of  ruins :  my  mind  is  stiU 
impressed,  at  this  distance  of  time,  with  the  solemn  stiUness 
of  those  seven  hills  —  the  deep  gliding  of  the  voiceless 
Tiber — ^the  frequent  cypress  rising  in  that  suburban  solitude 
— and  yon  gorgeous  dome  of  the  Galilean  fisherman  swell- 
ing in  triumph  over  the  circus  of  Nero.  I  had  alighted 
from  the  clumsy  vehicle  of  my  Morentine  vetturino,  sure  to 
rojoin  him  at  the  traveller's  inevitable  rendezvous,  the  Dogana 
Pontiflcia :  Mone  and  on  foot  I  arrived  at  the  gate  of  Home, 
and  stood  on  the  Piazzo  del  Popolo.  What  was  my  precise 
current  of  cogitation  I  cannot  remember,  but  I  was  sud- 
denly aroused  from  my  reverie  by  the  rough  grasp  of  honest 
and  afiectionate  welcome ;  mine  eye  gazed  on  the  well-known 
countenance  of  James  Babht.  Then  and  there  was  I  des- 
tined to  meet  thee,  best  beloved  of  my  boyhood,  and  earliest 
associate  of  my  school-days  !  with  whom  I  had  often  played 
the  truant  from  the  hedge-academy  of  Tim  Delany. 

"  Meorum  prime  sodalium ! 
Cum  quo  morantem  ssDpe  diem 
Fregi.'? — Hoe.  lib.  ii.  ode  7. 

Then  and  there  was  it  my  lot  to  encounter  him,  whom  I 
had  remembered  a  shoeless,  stockingless  and  reckless  urchin, 
yet  withal  the  life  and  soul  of  fun  in  the  classic  purlieus  of 


496  FATHEE  PEOTJT'S   EEMQrES. 

Blam«y  Lane ;  ripe  for  every  mischief,  but  distinguished 
among  all  the  pupils  of  our  excellent  Didascalus  by  the 
graphic  accuracy  with  which  his  embryo  genius  could  trace 
in  chalk  on  the  school-door,  or  with  slate  pencil  on  those 
tablets  sacred  to  Euclid,  the  pedant's  bespectacled  proboscis. 
A  red  cow  in  fresco  over  Mick  Flannagan's  public-house,  stiU 
exists  to  attest  the  early  development  of  his  pictorial  talent ; 
even  then,  his  passion  for  the  fine  arts  was  demonstrated  by 
the  fact  of  his  having  removed  from  its  pedestal,  and  con- 
veyed in  the  dead  of  night  to  his  own  garret,  the  wooden 
effigy  of  a  blackamoor,  that  adorned  the  widow  Brady's 
tobacco-shop.  I  afterwards  lost  sight  of  him  when  he  mi- 
grated from  Cork  to  the  miserable  hamlet  of  Passage  on  the 
harbour.  His  father,  who  had  been  a  builder  while  in  town, 
became  it  appears  the  owner  of  a  small  coasting-craft ;  in 
which,  sadly  against  his  inclination,  my  poor,  James  was 
doomed  to  roam  the  blue  deep,  untQ.  he  at  last  rebelled 
against  his  maritime  destiny,  and  "  taking  up  arms  against 
a  sea  of  troubles,"  determined,  in  opposition  to  parentsd' 
authority,  at  once  to  "  end  them."  His  subsequent  fate  and 
fortunes  since,  he  had  "  cut  the  painter"  I  had  no  means  of 
acertaining,  tUl  thus  accosted  by  what  seemed,  to  my  startled 
eye,  the  most  unaccountable"  of  apparitions  ;  nor  was  it  till 
I  had  fairly  scanned  his  outward  semblance,  and  heard  the 
genuine  Munster  brogue,  in  its  pure,  unsophisticated  Atti- 
cism, vibrate  on  his  tongue,  that  doubt  gave  place  to  the 
delight  of  mutual  recognition.  Barry's  wonderment  at  dis- 
covering his  quondam  acquaintance  in  a  semi-ecclesiastical 
garb,  was  not  the  least  amusing  feature  in  the  group  we 

§  resented  under  the  pedestal  df  Aurelian's  obelisk,  that 
ung  its  lengthy  shadow  across  the  spacious  piazza,  as  the 
glorious  Italian  sun  still  lingered  on  the  verge  of  the  ho- 
rizon. 

An  adjourment  was  voted,  by  acclamation,  to  the  nearest 
hospitable  shed ;  which,  I  remember  well,  was  that  most 
classically  named  establishment,  the  Osteria  della  Sybilla, 
in  the  "  Corso."     There, 

"  O  qui  complexiiB  et  gaudia  quanta  fuerunt ! 
Nil  ego  oontuleiim  juoundo  sanua  amico." — Iter  Bnntdusii. 


THE   PAINTEE,   BAEET.  497 

There  ensued  flask  after  flask  of  sparkling  Onieto  and  ge- 
nerous "lachryma;"  nor  was  the  swelling  tear  of  joyous 
enthusiasm  unnoticed  by  me  in  the  full  eye  of  kindling 
genius,  when  we  drank  to  his  "  art"  and  his  "  hopes,"  cou- 
pled with  the  health  of  "Edmund  Bueke,  his  noble,  his 
generous  protector  !" 

We  parted  at  a  late  hour,  after  collating  our  autobiogra- 
phies, pleased  at  the  coiacidence  that  had  reunited  us  once 
more.  Barry  had  but  to  cross  the  street  to  his  modest 
stamina,  in  the  "  Vicolo  del  Greco  ; "  I  tarried  for  the  night  in 
the  cave  of  "  the  sybil,"  and  dreamed  over  many  a  frolic  of 
bygone  days,  over  many  a  deed  of  Eoman  heroism  ;  com- 
mingling the  recollections  of  Tim  Delany  with  those  of 
Michael  Angelo,  and  alternately  perambulating  in  spirit  the 
"Via  Sacra"  and  "  Blarney  Lane." 

.  This  renewal  of  acquaintanceship  was  of  advantage  to  us 
both,  duriag  the  period  of  our  residence  ,at  Eome.  Though 
the  path  of  our  respective  pursuits  was  dissimilar,  there 
was  on  both  sides  much  of  acquired  information,  the  inter- 
change of  which  was  delightful.  In  all  that  could  illustrate 
the  memorials  of  Eoman  story,  annals  of  the  republic,  tro- 
phies, temples,  triumphal  arches,  deciphering  of  inscriptions, 
and  such  lore  as  could  be  gathered  from  previous  perusal  of 
what  had  been  written  on  that  exhaustless  topic,  Barry  found 
in  his  friend  a  cheerful  nomenclator^an  almanac  of  refer- 
ence, especially  in  the  records  and  proceedkigs  of  primitive 
Christianity ;  of  which  Eome,  its  catacombs,  its  churches, 
its  sepulchres,  and  its  MSS.,  are  the  richest  depositories.* 
In  return  for  such  hints,  suggestions,  and  legends,  it  was 
Barry's  pride  to  develop  the  sound  principles  of  taste  and 
criticism — the  theory  of  the  art  he  loved — those  views  and 
speculations  which  he  had  derived  from  nature,  and  from 
intercourse  with  the  author  of  A  Treatise  on  the  Sublime  and 
Beautiful.  Commingling  our  notions,  we  explored  the  mo- 
numental remains  strewn  in  giant  fragments  over  the  seven 
hills,  from  that  magnificent  relic  of  imperial  grandeur, 
"  I'  anfiteatro  Flavio,"  to  that  utilitarian  deposit  of  repub- 
lican glory,  the  "  Cloaca  Maxima." 

*  There  is  an  elaborate  wori,  \>y  Father  Aringhi,  bearing  the  quaint 
title  of  Roma  Subterranea,  2  vols,  folio,  Rom.  1663,  which  embodies 
much  of  the  information  here  alluded  to. — Pbout, 

K  K 


498  TATHEE  PEOri'S   EELIQTJES. 

Among  the  attributes  and  peculiarities  of  extraordinary 
intellect,  there  has  been  often  noticed  an  occasional  playful- 
ness, a  whimsical  boyishness,  with  which  the  tame  prudery 
of  mediocre  talent  is  rarely  chargeable.  This  characteristic 
idiosyncracy  was  observable  in  Barry :  he  had  retained  in 
the  maturity  of  manhood  that  accompaniment  of  inborn 
genius — the  heart  of  childhood  still  fresh  and  warm  in  his 
breast.  My  friend  loved  a  frolic.  I  know  not  whether  it 
was  the  irresistible  impulse  of  school-day  associations  which 
my  presence  communicated ;  but  in  the  most  solemn  local- 
ities, when  the  spot  would  preclude  any  idea  of  fun,  a  sud- 
den whim  would  take  his  fancy — the  distinguished  painter 
would  disappear  by  some  enchantment,  and  leave  naught 
behind  but  the  urchin  of  the  streets  of  Cork.  In  examining 
the  environs  of  the  Capitol,  as  we  looked  up  with  awe  at  the 
Tarpeian  Eock,  he  suggested  that  1  should  climb  the  piu- 
nacle,  and  place  myself  in  the  attitude  of  an  ancient  criminal 
about  to  take  the  last  fatal  step,  in  supposed  accordance 
with  the  senatus  consultum  in  such  cases  made  and  provided. 
I  had  scarcely  folded  my  clerical  gown  into  the  most  ap- 
proved fashion  of  a  Roman  toga,  and  assumed  a  look  of 
sublime  attachment,  even  in  death,  to  the  laws  of  my  coun- 
try, extending  my  arm  to  the  temple  of  Jupiter  Stator, — 
when  a  blow  of  a  cabbage-stump,  aimed  with  unerring  pre- 
cision from  the  kitchen-garden  where  Barry  stood  below, 
had  well  nigh  hurled  me  from  my  eminence.  Vainly  did  I 
claim  the  protection  of  canon  law,  which  excommunicates 
the  perpetrator  of  a  similar  enormity  (Si  quis,  suadente  dia- 
bolo,  clericum  percusserit,  &c.  canon  §  de  percussoribits :  sect. 
3,  de  jactu  caul.)  ;  he  would  urge  my  own  qtlotation  from 
Horace,  authorising  poets  or  painters  to  attempt  anything 
within  the  range  of  human  audacity, — quidlibet  audendi. 

We  loved,  at  the  solemn  hour  of  sunset,  ere  twilight  grey 
had  flung  his  misty  mantle  over  the  scene,  to  ascend  toge- 
ther the  Janiculum  HiU,  because  of  the  unrivalled  prospect 
which,  from  the  grand  reservoir  of  the  Acqua  Paolina,  may  be 
enjoyed  in  the  cool  of  the  evening,  commanding  the  ancient 
and  modern  city, — palaces,,  domes,  andcampanili  contrasting 
in  picturesque  confusion  with  the  giant  piUars  of  Trajan  and 
of  Antonine, — ^the  circumference  of  its  walls, — aqueducts 
stretching  in  broken  series  across  the  desolate  campagna,— 


THE   PAIOTEE,   BAEET. 


499 


the  silent  course  of  the  Tiber  winding  its  serpent  length 
through  the  whole  compass  of  the  horizon,  the  distant  MUs 
of  Tivoli  and  Alba  on  the  verge  of  the  landscape,  lost  among 
the  Apennines, — there  would  we  sit  and  contemplate  awhile 
the  matchless  vision,  with  emotions  far  deeper  than  those 
felt  by  Martial,  whose  eye  scanned  the  same  tract  of  land 
from  the  same  eminence  in  olden  days. 

"  Hino  septem  dominos  yidere  moutes, 
!Et  totam  licet  sestimareSromaiu," 

Then  anon  the  sportive  spirit  would  rush  upon  Barry,  and 
strangely  jarring  on  the  harmony  of  local  reminiscences, 
amid  the  awfulness  of  historic  cogitation,  would  burst  forth 
a  wild  and  grotesque  song,  composed  in  honour  of  the  mari- 
time village  where  he  had  spent  his  young  days,  manifestly 
an  imitation  of  that  unrivalled  dithyramb  the  "  G-roves  of 
Blarney,"  with  a  little  of  its  humour,  and  aH  its  absurdity. 

The  Attractions  of  a  fashionable  Irish  Watering-place. 

'Tie  there  the  turf  is, 
And  lots  of  murphies, 
Dead  sprats  and  hernngs, 

And  oyster  shells ; 
Nor  any  lack,  O  ! 
Of  good  tohacco — 
Though  what  is  smuggled 

By  feir  excels.        ' 

There  are  ships  from  Cadiz, 
And  from  Barbadoes, 
But  the  leading  trade  is 

In  whisky-pxmch ; 
And  you  may  go  in 
Where  one  MoUy  Bowen 
Keeps  a  nate  hotel 

For  a  quiet  lunch. 
But  land  or  deck  on, 
You  may  safely  reckon, 
Whatsoever  country 

Tou  come  hither  from, 
On  an  invitation 
To  a  joUifioation, 
With  a  parish  priest 

That's  called  "Father  Tom."* 


The  town  of  Passage 

Is  both  large  and  spacious. 

And  situated 

Upon  the  say. 
'Tis  nate  and  daeent, 
And  quite  adjacent 
To  come  from  Cork 

On  a  summer's  day  j 
There  you  may  slip  in 
To  take  a  dipping. 
Foment  the  shipping 

That  at  anchor  ride ; 
Or  in  a  wheriy 
Cross  o'er  the  ferry 
To  Carrigaloe, 

On  the  other  side. 

Mud  cabins  swarm  in 
This  place  so  charming. 
With  sailor  garments 

Himg  out  to  dry ; 
And  each  abode  is 
Snug  and  commodious, 
With  pigs  melodious 

In  their  straw-built  sty. 

•  The  Bev.  Thomas  B/ngland,  P.  P.,  known  to  the  literary  world  by 

K  K  2 


500  TATHEE  PEOTJt's   EELIQUES. 

( 
Of  Bhips  there's  one  fixt  There  "  Saxon"  jailors 

,       Por  lodging  oonTicts,  Keep  braye  repaUors, 

A  floating  "  stone  Jug"  Who  soon  with  sailors 

Of  amazing  bulk  ;  Must  anchor  weigh 

The  hake  and  salmon,  From  th'  em'rald  island,  ' 

Playing  at  bagammon,  Ne'er  to  see  dry  land. 

Swim  for  diyarsion  Until  they  spy  land 

All  round  this  "  hulk  ;"  In  sweet  Bot'ny  Bay. 

Some  people  will  think  this  conduct  of  my  departed  friend 
very  childish,  and  so  it  was,  doubtless ;  but,  to  quote  the 
language  of  his  patron,  Edmund  Burke,  in  one  of  those  im- 
mortal pamphlets,  replete  with  a  wisdom  and  a  philosophy 
never  granted  to  the  soul  of  an  Utilitarian,  "  Why  not  gra- 
tify children  ?  lawyers,  I  suppose,  were  children  once.  Is 
the  world  all  grown  up  ?  is  childhood  dead  ?  or  is  there  not 
in  the  bosoms  of  the  wisest  and  the  best  some  of  the  child's 
heart  left  to  respond  to  its  earliest  enchantments  ?"  There 
is  a  remark  by  Coleridge  relative  to  this  propensity  of  su- 
perior mental  power  to  humble  itself  to  the  capacity  and 
the  pursuits  of  the  infant  mind,  which,  if  I  recollected  his 
exact  words,  I  would  here  record  ;*  but  I  have  constantly 
observed,  in  my  own  experience  of  life,  and  my  own  range 
of  reading,  that  such  has  ever  been  the  tendency  of  all 
gifted  men  in  every  age,  from  Agesilaus  to  Henri  Quatre— 
from  the  prophet  who  adapted  himself  to  the  proportions  of 
infancy,  "  his  eyes  upon  his  eyes,  his  mouth  upon  his  mouth,  his 
hand  upon  his  hands"  (2  Kings,  chap.  iv.  ver.  34),  to  our  own 
immortal  patriot  Grattan,  who,  in  the  home  a  nation  gave 
him,  amid  the  woods  of  Tinnahinch,  played  hide-and-seek 
with  his  children ;  where  (as  Moore  says)  he  who  had  guided 
the  councils  of  the  collected  wisdom, 

"  The  most  wise  of  the  old, 
Became  all  that  the  youngest  and  simplest  hold  dear."-^Jl/onod'y,  S(c. 

"  a  life"  of  the  celebrated  friar,  Arthur  O'Leary,  chaplain  to  a  club  which 
Ourran,  Telverton,  Earls  Moira,  Charlemont,  &c.  &c.  established  in 
1780,  imder  the  designation  of  "  the  Monks  of  the  Screw."— 0.  Y. 

*  The  remark  of  which  Prout  only  recollects  the  substance  may  be 
found  in  Coleridge's  Autobiograph.  Liter.,  vol  i.  p.  85,  "  Ta  carry  on  the 
feelings  of  childhood  into  the  powers  of  manhood  is  the  privilege  of 
genius,"  &c.  &o.  Pope  seems  to  have  had  a  foretaste  of  this  metaphy- 
sical discovery  when  he  vrrote  on  his  friend  Gay — 

"  In  wit  a  man,  simplicity  a  child." — O.  T, 


THE   PAINTHIl,   BAEET.  501 

Some  weeks  passed  on,  and  I  began  to  see  less  of  Barry. 
Anxious  to  store  my  mind  with  whateyer  knowledge  was  to 
be  obtained  in  the  haunts  ,of  learning,  I  spent  my  days  in 
frequenting  the  haUs  of  the  University  {archigymnas.  rom.), 
imbibing  the  wisdom  of  its  professors.  To  some  of  these  I 
mUingly  pay  the  tribute  of  acknowledgment ;  they  were 
men  of  acute  and  quick  perception,  clear  and  lucid  delivery, 
easy  and  affable  intercourse  :  their  lectures  at  once  animated 
and  substantial;  others  (alas!),  like  our  modern  Lardners, 
operation  the  crowd  of  eager  students  like  the  reading  of 
the  riot  act — dull,  plodding,  pompous,  pragmatical,  and, 
empty-headed.  ' 

While  I  was  thus  engaged  in  sounding  the  depths  of  Tho- 
mas Aquinas,  my  countryman  was  ardently  pursuing  his 
favourite  vocation,  studying  the  antique ;  I  was  busied  with 
forms  of  syllogistic  disputation,  he  tracing  graceful  shapes 
of  faun  and  nymph — Psyche  and  G-anymede ;  I  wrestled 
with  Duns  Scotus  and  Peter  Lombard,  he  grappled  with  the 
dying  gladiator,  or  still-breathing  Laocoon :  that  block  called 
the  Torso  was  his  idolatry ;  I  worshipped  an  equally  pon- 
derous folio  of  Cornelius  k  Lapide. 

Months  rolled  away,  in  occasional  visits  from  the  painter ; 
but  I  could  observe  that  his  brow  wore  the  mark  of  a  dis- 
turbed spirit,  and  that  he  laboured  under  fits  of  depression. 
He  made  no  difficulty  of  communicating  to  me  the  subject 
of  his  tribulations,  which  had  little  foundation  in  reality, 
but  were  sufficient  to  sting  to  madness  an  over-sensitive 
mind,  such  as  my  friend  unfortunately  possessed.  He  had 
persuaded  himself  that  the  English  artists  at  E.ome  were  in 
a  combination  against  him, — he  was  doomed  to  be  ever  the 
victim  of  jealous  envy, — his  efforts  to  gain  celebrity  would  be 
ever  thwarted  by  preferences  bestowed  on  inferior  craft  and 
intriguing  dullness.  To  these  troubles  of  his  fancy's  crea- 
tion there  was  superadded  the  straitened  circumstances  in 
which  he  was  placed — wholly  dependent  on  the  small  an- 
nuity which  Edmund  Burke  (by  no  means  wealthy  at  that 
period)  contrived  to   bestow  on  him  (50/.)*     AU.  these. 

•  Barry  was  not  the  only  English  artist  whose  poverty  at  Rome  was 
proverbial;  the  eminent  landscape  painter,  Wilson,  was  sadly  impro- 
vided  with  the  precious  metals  wliile  a  student  in  that  capital.  There 
is  an  odd  story  told  of  his  doffing  his  coat  one  fine  day  for  a  game  of 


502  TATHEB  PSOrT'S   EEIIQTJBS. 

symptoms  of  Ms  internal  organisation,  which  afterwards  in 
London  broke  out  into  such  fearful  manifestations  of  irrita- 
bility, required  my  utmost  skill  to  soothe  and  to  pacify; 
Poets  have  been  termed  an  angry,  susceptible,  and  sensitive 
race — prone  to  takte  umbrage  at  imaginary  slight,  and  vision- 
ary wrongs ;  Barry  belonged  to  the  most  exalted  class  of 
the  genus  irritabile ;  and  this  impatience  of  mind,  deriving 
intensity  from  constitutional  habit,  brought  on  death,  ere  that 
plenitude  of  fame  on  which  he  might  have  counted,  could 
be  granted  to  his  too  eager  imagination.  The  line  of  obser- 
vation into  which  I  have  been  thus  led,  is  the  sentiment 
expressed  by  le  Baron  de  Fontanes,  in  his  consolatory 
address  to  Chateaubriand. 

"  Ainsi  les  mattrea  de  la  lyre  Long  temps  ime  ombre  fugitive 

Partout  exhaleiit  leur  chagrins,  Semble  tromper  leor  noble  or. 

Vivants  la  douleur  les  dfechire  ;  gueil ; 

Et  oea  dieux  que  la  terre  admire        IJa  Gloiee  enfin  pour  eux  arrive, 
Ont  peu  compte  de  jours  sereins.   Bt  toujours  sa  palme  tardive 

Groit  plus  belle  au  pied  d'un 

CEEOUEIL." 


I've  marked  the  youth  with  talents  His  fate  had  been,  with  ardent  mind 

curs'd,  To  chase  the  phantom  Fame, — to 
Tve  watch'd  his  eye,  hope-lit  at  find 

first —  His  grasp  eluded; — calm,  resign- 
Then  seen  his  heart  indignant  burst  ed — 

To  find  his  genius  scorned !  He  knows  his  fate— he  dies  ! 

Soft  on  his  secret  hour  I  stole.  Then  comes  eenown  !  then  fame  ap- 

And  saw  him  scan  with  anguished  pears  ! 

soul  Gloet  proclaims  the  corpnf  hers ! 

Q-lory's  immortal  muster-roll  Aye  greenest  over  sepulchres 

His  name  should  have  adorned !  Palm-tree  and  laurel  rise  1 

In  the  midst  of  these  vexations,  arose  on  the  destiny  of 
my  finend  a  guiding  star,  a  mild  and  holy  influence,  which, 
had  it  not  been  withdrawn  suddenly  and  for  ever,  might 
have  rescued  Barry  from  his  own  unruly  imaginings,  and 
linked  him  to  social  existence.  There  is  a  secret  speU  by 
which  the  gentle  voice  of  beauty's  admonition  finds  access 

tennis  in  the  baths  of  CaracaUa  (where  the  English  had  got  up  a  sort  of 
ball  alley),  when,  lo !  on  his  back,  by  way  of  lining  to  his  waistcoat,  a 
splendid  waterfall,  with  grotto,  &c.  &o.  became  visible :  a  contrivance, 
no  doubt,  of  his  laundress,  to  turn  his  productions  to  some  profitable 
purpose. 


THE   PAINTER,   BAEET.  503 

to  the  most  ironbound  and  intractable  tempers.  In  his 
visits  to  the  Vatican,  Barry  had  been  noticed  by  the  old 
custode  who  tenanted  the  Torrione  dei  Fenti  at  the  extreme 
end  of  the  palace.  Pabio  Oenturioni  (such  was  the  ho- 
noured name  of  this  respectable  veteran,  the  senior  officer 
of  the  Vatican  gallery)  was  in  himself  an  object  not  un- 
worthy of  the  antiquarian's  attention.  He  belonged  to  a 
race  distinct  in  character  and  feelings  from  the  vulgar  crowd 
who  crawl  through  the  streets  of  Eome.  Of  an  old  trans- 
tiberine  family,  he  claimed  vpith  the  trasteverini  uncon- 
ditionated  pedigree,  ascending  through  the  vicissitudes  of 
intervening  barbarism  to  the  ancient  masters  of  the 
world.  Whether  he  traced  the  relationship  up  to  PabiuB 
Maximus — 

"  ITnus  qui  nobis  cuaotando  restituit  rem"  (Ennim) — 

I  have  omitted  to  ascertain.  But  if  solemn  gait,  gravity 
of  deportment,  absence  of  unnecessary  speed  in  word  or 
gesture,  were  of  genealogical  import,  his  descant  on  the 
great  Cunctator  was  unquestionable.  His  affection  for  young 
Barry  originated  in  a  sort  of  fancied  resemblance  to  the 
old  Eoman  character  which  he  thought  he  could  discover 
in  the  foreign  artist ;  and  certainly,  as  far  as  energy,  vigour, 
a  proud  and  generous  disposition,  and  an  uncompromising 
dignity,  were  typical  of  the  sons  of  Eomulus,  the  Irish 
painter  justified  the  old  gentleman's  discernment.  He  en- 
tertained for  my  friend  a  predilection  he  took  every  oppor- 
tunity of  exhibiting,  being  heard  to  declare  Barry  more  of  a 
Eoman  than  the  whole  tribe  of  degenerate  wretcljes  who 
dwelt  on  the  right  bank  of  the  river.  But  what  set  the 
seal  to  the  custode's  approbation,  was  the  unbounded  vene- 
ration both  felt  in  common  for  the  huge  Torso  at  the  ex- 
tremity of  the  gallery — a  colossal  fragment,  known  through- 
out Europe  from  the  many  casts  which  have  been  taken 
therefrom,  and  which,  iu  shape,  size,  and  wonderful  attri- 
butes, can  only  be  compared  to  the  Blarney  stone ;  of  which, 
to  the  vulgar,  it  appears  an  exact  fac-simUe.  Eabio's  eye 
glistened  with  delight  as  he  watched  our  enthusiast  sketch- 
ing this  glorious  block,  day  after  day,' in  every  position  and 
attitude.  An  invitation  to  his  apartments  in  the  palace  was 
the  result ;  thus  Barry  became  acquainted  with  Marcella. 


604  FATHEE  PEOri'S   EELIQTJES, 

Pure,  delightfal,  heavenly  being !  sixty  years  have  passed 
over  my  head,  and  revolutions  have  swept  over  the  face  of 
Europe,  and  monarchies  have  passed  away,  and  for  more 
than  half  a  century  thy  ashes  have  slept  in  the  church  of 
Santa  Cecilia  in  trastevere  ;  but  thy  image  is  now  before  me, 
lovely  and  animated  as  when  thy  smile  cheered  the  wUd 
Irish  artist,  whom  thou  didst  unfeignedly  love !  In  that 
church,  near  the  tomb  of  the  martyred  saint  (thy  model  and 
thy  patroness),  a  marble  tablet,  carved  by  the  hand  of  thy 
heart-broken  father,  may  yet  be  seen,  with  the  words, — 

"  MaECELLA  CENTrEIONI,  DI  ANNI  18,  VBEGINE  EOMAKA, 

PACE  IMPLOEA."  That  peace  is  assuredly  thiue.  Of  too 
gentle  a  texture  wert  thou  to  endure  the  trials  of  life  and 
the  rude  contact  of  adversity.  Hence  in  mercy  wert  thou 
withdrawn  from  this  boisterous  world,  and  received  into  the 
harbour  of  rest.  "With  grief  I  record  thy  early  fate ;  but 
I  sorrow  not  for  thee !  My  miud  loves  to  dwell  on  the 
probable  destiny  of  my  friend,  had  Heaven  granted  him  a 
partner  through  life,  adviser,  help,  tutelary  deity,  in  her 
whom  he  had  the  misfortune  to  lose  for  ever.  Of  what 
avail  are  the  fond  speculations  of  friendship  ?  Both  are 
long  siQce  no  more ;  and  I  myself  must  soon  rejoin  them  in 
the  mysterious  region  that  stretches  out  beyond  the  grave. 
Never  shall  I  forget  the  Christmas  of  1769.  In  Italy, 
the  annual  occurrence  of  that  merry  festival  is  accompanied, 
in  the  family  circle  as  well  as  ia  the  public  rejoicings,  with 
certain  demonstrations  of  religious  feeling ;  it  is  not  merely, 
as  in  England,  a  season  of  carousing  and  revelry.  The  pic- 
turesque appearance  and  grotesque  costume  of  the  rustic 
minstrels,  who  come  down  from  the  Apennines,  and  fiU  the 
city  with  the  melody  of  their  bagpipes  (not  unlike  a  group 
of  Bethlehem  shepherds),  is  not  the  least  interesting  feature 
in  the  solemnity.  Church  ceremonies,  appealing  to  the 
senses  of  the  people  (for,  in  spite  of  the  march  of  intellect, 
there  must  ever  be  an  outward  and  visible  display  of  reli- 
gious worship  for  the  bulk  of  mankind),  kindle  in  a  mar- 
vellous degree  the  fervour  of  these  southern  votaries, 
impressing  them  with  sentiments  appropriate  to  the  com- 
memoration of  Christ's  nativity.  It  was  then  that  through 
Barry,  who  was  a  constant  visitor  of  t'abio  Centurioni,  in 
fact,  looked  on  in  the  light  of  an  accepted  son-in-law,  I  be- 


THE   PAINTEB,  BAEET. 


505 


came  intimate  with  the  old  custode's  family,  and  mixed  with 
the  circle  that  gathered  round  his  fireside.  Countless  the 
iappy  evenings  we  spent  in  the  society  of  those  good  and 
hospitable  people — many  the  moments  of  unmixed  enjoy- 
ment. Excellence  in  music  is  the  birthright  of  every 
daughter  of  Italy ;  MarceUa's  voice  thrilled  with  a  delicacy 
of  feeling  and  depth  of  expression  it  has  not  been  my  fortune 
to  meet  with  in  any  part  of  the  continent.  Memory  will 
at  this  distance  bring  back  snatches  of  that  exquisite  me- 
lody ;  and  just  now  a  ballad,  replete  with  graceful  piety, 
which  I  believe  to  be  of  her  own  composition,  presents  itself 
to  my  recollection.  It  is  but  a  fragment ;  but  as  I  never 
saw  it  in  print,  I  cannot  supply  the  portion  deficient  to 
complete  the  poem,  which  contains  a  supposed  dialogue  be- 
tween the  Virgin  Mary,  a  gipsy,  and  St.  Joseph,  in  the  land 
of  Egypt. 

La  Zingarella. 

Ben  venuto,  veochiarello ! 
Con  questo  bambino  bello 
Che  'sto  core  m'  innamora ; 
Dio  ti  salvi  bella  siguora  ! 

Siete  stanohi  e  meBchini ; 


Credo,  poveri  pellegrini, 
Che  cercato  d'  alloggiare  j 
Vuol  signora  scaralcare  ? 

Alia  tua  bella  presenza 
Tutta  mi  sento  riverenza, 
E  ancor  credo  per  certo 
Che  yenite  dal  deserto, 

Siete  Btanchi  deUa  via, 
Vi  offerisco  la  casa  mia ; 
Benche  Bono  poverella, 
Son  una  donna  Zingarella. 

Se  non  %  come  meritate, 
Signoruccia  perdonate, 
Quest'  onor  Tolete  farmi  ? 
Questo  piacer  yolete  darmi  ? 


Aggia  qua  una  staUella 
Buona  per  'sta  somareUa ; 
Faglia  e  fieno  ce  ne  getto, 
Ti  e  per  tutti  lo  ricetto. 

E  tu,  veochiarello,  siedi ! 
Sei  venuto  Bempre  a  piedi ; 
Avete  fatto,  o  bella  figlia, 
Da  trecento  e  tante  miglia. 

O  ch'  e  bello  'sto  figliarello 
Che  par  fatto  con  pennello, 
Non  oi  so  dar  assomiglio 
Bella  madre  e  beUo  figlio. 

Non  avete  piu  paura 
V  indovino  1'  aventura, 
Noi  signora  cosi  sino,   » 
Pacciam  sempre  1'  indovino. 

Quel  picciolin'  mi  toeca  il  core 
Mostra  mi  dunque  per  favore, 
Fammi  grazia  signorina 
Dammi  qili  la  sua  manina,  &c.  &c. 


Ci)e  dFltS^Jt  into  3Egspt.    a  JSallaU. 

There's  a  legend  that's  told  of  a  gipsy  And  she  lived  in  the  days  when  our  Lord 

who  dwelt  was  a  child 

In  the  land  where  the  Pyramids  be ;  On  his  mother's  immaculate  breast; 

And  her  robe  was  embroidered  with  stars,  When  he   fled  from  his  foes— when  to 

and  her  belt  Egypt  exiled, 

With  devices,  right  wondrous  to  sees  He  went  down  with  StJoseph  the  blest. 


506 


TATHEE   PEOTTT'S    BELIQTJES. 


This  E^ptian  held  converse  with  magiC; 

me  think  6, 
And  the  future  was  given  to  her  gaze ; 
For  an  obelisk  marked  Ijier  abode,  and  a 
sphinx 
On  her  thveshold  kept  vigil  always. 
She  was  pensive  and  ever  alone,  nor  was 
seen 
In  the  haunts  of  the  dissolute  crowd : 
Bat  communed  with  the  ghosts  of  the 
Pharaohs,  I  ween, 
Or  with  visitors  wrapped  in  a  shroud. 

And  there  came  an  old  man  from   the 
desert  one  day, 
With  a  maid  on  a  mule,  hy  that  road ; 
And  a  child  on  her  bosom  reclined— and 
the  way 
Led  them  straight  to  the  gipsy's  ahode : 
And  they  seemed  to  have  travelled  a  wea- 
risome path, 
From  theirhorae  many,manya  league — 
From  a  tyrant's  pursuit,  from  an  enemy's 
wrath, 
Spent   wi  th   toil,   and   o'ercome   with 
fatigue. 

And  the  gipsy  came  forth  from  her  dwell- 
ing, and  prayed 
That   the   pilgrims   would  rest  them 
awhile ; 
And  she  offered  her  couch  to  that  delicate 
maid, 
"Who  had  come  many  many  a  mile  ; 
And  she  fondled  the  habe  with  affection's 
caress. 
And  she  begged  the  old  man  would  re- 
pose; 
Here  the  stranger,  she  said,  ever  finds 
free  access, 
And  the  wanderer  balm  for  his  woes. 

Then  her  guents  from  the  glare  of  the 
noonday  she  led 
To  a  seat  in  her  grotto  so  cool ; 
Where   she  spread  them  a  banquet  of 
fruits— and  a  shed, 
With  a  manger,  was  found  for  the  mule ; 


With  the  wine  of  the  palm-tree,  with  the 
dates  newly  culled, 
All  the  toil  of  the  road  she  hegniled; 
And  with  song  in  a  language  mysterious 
she  lulled 
On  her  bosom  the  wayfaring  child. 

When thel&ipsy  anon inher  Ethiop  hand 

Placed  the  in/ant's  diminutive  palm, 
Oh  *twas  fearful  to  see  how  the  featm-es 
she  scanned 
Of  the  babe  in  hi  s  slumber  so  calm ! 
Well  she  notod  each  mark  and  each  fur- 
row that  crossed 
O'er  the  tracings  of  destiny's  line  : 
"  Whence  camb  ye  !"  she  cried,  in  aston- 
ishment lost, 

"  Fob  THIS  CHILD  IS  OF  LINEAGE  DIVINE!" 

"From  the  village  of  Nazareth,"  Joseph 
replied, 
"  Where  we  dwelt  in  the  land  of  the 
Jew; 
We  have  fled  from  a  tyrant,  whose  gar- 
ment is  dyed 
In  the  gore  of  the  children  he  slew : 
We   were  told  to  remain  till  an  angel's 
command 
Should  appoint  us  the  hour  to  return; 
But  till  then  we  inhabit  the  foreigner's 
land, 
And  in  Egypt  we  make  our  sojourn."    , 

"  Then  ye  tarry  with  me  I"  cried  the  gipsy 
in  joy, 
"  And  ye  make  of  my  dwelling  your 
home : 
Many  years  have  I  prayed  that  the  Is- 
raelite hoy 
(Blessed  hope  of  the  Gentiles !)  would 
come." 
And  she  kissed  hoth  the  feet  of  the  infant 
and  knelt, 
And  adored  him  at  once ; — then  a  smile 
Lit'the  face  of  his  mother,  who  cheerfully 
dwelt 
With  h,er  host  on  the  hanks  of  the  Nile. 


The  character  and  prospects  of  Barry  never  presented 
themselves  to  his  friends  under  a  brighter  aspect  than  dur- 
ing the  period  of  his  intimacy  with  the  amiable  indwellers 
of  the  Torrione  de*  Venti  in  the  Vatican  gardens.  The  sooth- 
ing influence  of  milder  affections  became  manifest  in  the 
quasi  filial  attention  with  which  he  deferred  to  the  counsels 
of  Marcella's  father,  who  having,  in  virtue  of  his  of&ce,  seen^ 
many  successive  generations  of  young  enthusiasts  engaged 
in  the  same  professional  walk,  was  qualified  to  guide  and  to 
advise.   The  privilege  of  access  to  the  gallery  at  hours  when, 


THE   PAINTBE,  BAEET.  507 

by  the  established  regulations,  all  others  were  excluded,  was 
an  advantage  which  Barry  knew  how  to  appreciate ;  and 
which  I  notice,  because  it  gave  occasion  to  an  occurrence  I 
alone  witnessed,  and  which  I  promised  during  his  lifetime 
never  to  disclose.  Since  his  death  I  have  no  motive  for 
either  publishing  or  concealing  this  anecdote ;  to  teU  the 
truth,  Xapprehended  that  its  very  singularity  would  perhaps, 
in  the  estimation  of  many,  be  a  reason  for  refusing  credence 
to  the  narrative ;  but  in  the  eyes  of  the  few,  for  whom  I 
write  (contentus  paucis  lectoribus),  I  hope  the  romantic 
nature  of  the  transaction  will  not  damage  the  statement,  or 
prejudice  my  veracity ;  it  being  a  trite  saying,  that  matters 
more  extraordinary  occur  in  real  life  than  are  recorded  in 
fiction. 

Barry  loved  to  study  in  the  Vatican  gallery  by  night ;  an 
indulgence  the  mildness  of  the  season  (it  was  now  the  close 
of  May  1770)  would  allow  of.  The  custom  of  permitting 
foreigners  to  explore  the  museum  by  torchlight,  on  payment 
of  fees,  had  not  been  established;  James  had  no  apprehension 
of  iatruders  on  the  privacy  of  his  studious  hours.  There,  by 
the  glare  of  a  bronze  lamp,  he  would  sit  while  the  city  was 
hushed  to  repose ;  and  while  the  glimmering  flame  would 
cast  a  shadowy  lustre  on  the  contours  of  some  antique 
group,  he  would  sketch  the  forms  of  the  mighty  dead,  drink- 
ing deep  at  the  fount  of  Greek  inspiration.  I  have  before 
adverted  to  the  notion  he  had  imbibed,  that  the  English 
artists  at  Eome  were  jealously  watchful  of  his  studies  ;  that 
they  sought  to  appropriate  the  conceptions  of  his  teeming 
fancy,  and  to  rob  him  of  his  originality.  Hence  to  Barry 
the  consciousness  of  being  unobserved  constituted  the 
charm  of  these  nocturnal  pursuits  :  none  but  I  had  been 
allowed  access  to  his  vigils  in  the  gaUery — a  mark  of  friend- 
ship I  have  reason  to  remember.  On  the  evening  of  the 
20th  of  May  we  had  both  been  staying  up  late  with  the  old 
custode  in  the  Torrione.  Barry  had  been  rather  warmly 
engaged  with  his  host  in  a  controversy  respecting  the  rela- 
tive merits  of  the  recumbent  Cleopatra,  and  the  reclining 
figure  of  a  colossal  river  god,  supposed  to  be  the  Nile.  As 
I  took  some  interest  on  behalf  of  his  favourite  the  Cleo- 
patra, he  offered  to  accompany  me  thither,  with  the  old  cus- 
tode's  permission,  and  give  me  ocular  demonstration  of  the 


508  TATHEE  PBOUT'S  EELIQUES. 

correctness  of  his  views.  As  by  this  time  (it  was  near  mid- 
night) we  had  demolished  not  a  few  flasks  of  gensano,  I  felt 
nothing  loath ;  so  we  folded  our  cloaks  about  us,  and  I  bore 
the  torch.  I  question  whether  Diomed  and  Ulysses,  in  their 
night  excursion  across  the  plain  of  Troy,  experienced  loftier 
emotions  than  did  we,  as  with  echoing  tread  we  paced  the 
solemn  halls  of  the  pontifical  palace,  between  ranks  of  an- 
tique statues,  confronting  us  in  every  possible  variety  of 
attitude, — menace,  grief,  admiration,  welcome,  or  terror. 
Nothing  appeared  so  illustrative  of  a  visit  to  the  shades  of 
Erebus, — 

"  Ibant  obscuri  solA  sub  nocte  per  vtmbram 

Perque  domos  Ditia  vacuas  et  inania  regna." — Mn.  vi. 

Barry  would  pause  before  some  marble  favourite,  introduce 
me  to  its  individual  merits,  teach  me  to  throw  the  light  ju- 
diciously, delivering  himself  withal  of  some  of  those  striking 
theories  which  I  loved  to  trace  in  his  subsequent  printed 
lectures  on  the  art  he  adored.  But  as  we  slowly  approaehedl 
the  sala  de  Cleopatra^  the  term  of  our  appointed  pUgriiDssf 
age,  a  sudden  and  UQaccountable  start  on  the  part  of  my 
friend  dashed  the  torch  out  of  my  hand — and  "I'll  be 
hanged,  Prout!"  cried  he,  "if  the  ruffians  dont  listen  to 
every  word  I  utter :  did  you  not  see  that  scoundrel  Nolle- 
kens  lurking  behind  the  Antinous  ? — by  G- — d,  'tis  he  !"— 
"  For  shame  1"  I  rejoined  ;  "  can't  you  keep  from  cursing 
at  this  hour  of  night,  and  in  the  very  residence  of  the  sove- 
reign pontiiF  ?" — "  "Tis  true,  by  hell !"  cried  out  my  infu- 
riated friend,  reckless  of  that  stern  reporter  for  the  celestial 
press,  the  recording  angel,  who  no  doubt  dropped  a  deter- 
sive tear  on  an  oath  the  decided  ofispring  of  monomania ; 
"  but  I'll  soon  teach  the  rascal  to  exercise  elsewhere  his 
talents  as  eaves-dropper,  spy,  and  plagiarist !" — So  saying, 
he  rushed  to  the  spot  where  he  fancied  he  had  seen  his  foe ; 
and,  spite  of  the  obscurity  of  the  hall,  on  the  floor  of  which 
lay  the  semi-extinguished  torch,  I  could  still  perceive  that 
he  had  in  fact  grappled  not  with  a  mere  creation  of  his  trou- 
bled fancy,  but  vnth  a  bond  fide  human  shape,  muffled  in 
the  ample  folds  of  a  long  ecclesiastical  robe,  and  yielding 
apparently  without  resistance  to  the  rude  energy  of  its  as- 
eaUaut.    Barry  soon  relaxed  his  grasp,  when  he  had  clearly 


THE   PAIUTBE,  BAEET.  509 

aacertained  tbat  his  prisoner  was  an  old  priest  and  an  Italian; 
but  muttered  still,  -with  indomitable  wrath, "  Tou  may  thank 
your  stars,  my  boy,  that  you  wern't  that  blackguard  Nolle- 
kens." — "  Grazie  tante  I"  was  the  ejaculation  of  the  venerable 
captive,  when  he  had  sufficiently  recovered  from  his  affright: 
"  your  mistake  had  well  nigh  had  consequences  which  none 
would  regret  more  than  yourselves.  Tou  are  foreigners, 
and,  if  1  may  judge  from  your  idiom,  English  ;  I  am  a  resi- 
dent of  the  palace.  No  doubt  a  love  for  the  arts  has  occar 
fiioned  your  presence  here  at  this  unusual  hour.  'Tis  well, 
Follow  me  towards  the  sala  di  SanBamaso."  There  was  some- 
thing authoritative,  as  well  as  conciliatory,  in  the  tone  of 
our  new  acquaintance ;  and  as  I  shewed  a  disposition  to  ac- 
cept the  invitation  of  one  whom  I  guessed  to  be  a  dignitary 
of  the  Papal  court,  Barry  did  not  hesitate  to  accom- 
pany me. 

We  paused  not,  we  spoke  not.  Onwards  we  went  through 
the  different  corridors  and  antechambers  that  separate  the  Va- 
tican gallery  from  that  portion  of  the  palace  which  our  guide 
hadmentioned.  Each  6«soZa,  each  door,seemedto  recognise  the 
passage  of  a  master,  flying  open  at  his  touch.  At  length  we 
entered  what  appeared  to  be  a  study.  The  walls  were  hung 
with  Plemish  tapestry;  and  a  bronze  lamp  of  antique  fashion, 
dependent  from  the  gilt  oak  ceiling,  faintly  illumined  the 
apartment.  In  the  centre,  a  table  inlaid  with  exquisite 
mosaic  was  strewed  with  various  documents,  seemingly  of  an 
official  character  ;  amongst  which  a  single  book,  though  torn 
and  disfigured,  quickly  attracted  my  eye.  I  knew  at  a 
glance  the  familiar  folio.  It  was  a  copy  of  the  standard 
regulations  of  my  old  tutors,  "  iNSTiTtrTTrit  Societatis 
Jestt."  We  were  seated  at  the  Italian  prelate's  request. 
A  servant  in  the  papal  livery  was  summoned  by  a  rapid 
signal  from  an  adjoining  room ;  a  brief  order  to  bring  wine 
and  refreshments  was  delivered,  and  executed  with  magic 
promptitude.  Meantime  Barry  kept  his  eye  on  me  to  ascer- 
tain what  I  thought  of  om-  singular  position.  Our  host  left 
no  space  for  reflection,  but  pressed  us  with  genuine  hospi- 
tality to  partake  of  what  lay  .before  us.  Wine  is  the  great 
dissolvent  of  distrust,  and  generator  of  cordiality.  Never 
was  this  more  forcibly  exemplified  than  in  my  friend's  case, 
who,  totally  oblivious  of  the  late  awkward  scuffle  between 


510  FATHEE  PEOTJT'B   EELIQinES. 

himself  and  the  most  rererend  dignitary,  laimehed  out  into 
a  diversity  of  topics  connected  with  the  fine  arts,  of  which 
our  entertainer  appeared  to  be  a  sincere  and  enlightened 
admirer. 

Thinking  it  high  time  to  mix  in  the  conversation,  "  I  am 
happy  to  find,"  said  I,  quaffing  a  glass  of  Malaga,  "  that  the 
Jesuits  have  a  friend  at  the  court  of  G-anganeUi." 

"  Speak  you  thus,  abbatino  ?"  rejoined  our  host.  "  Tou 
are  then  an  admirer  of  Loyola's  institute.  Are  there  many 
such  in  Prance,  where  it  appears  you  have  studied  ?" 

I  described  the  G-allican  episcopal  body  as  unanimously 
adverse  to  the  proposed  destruction  of  that  society. 

"  The  king  of  Prance,  the  kings  of  Spain  and  Portugal^ 
think  differently,  young  man,"  said  the  prelate  with  some 
warmth,  and  with  a  tone  that  only  served  to  kindle  my 
zeal  in  defence  of  my  old  professors. 

"  The  Due  de  Choiseul  and  Madame  de  Pompadour  may 
have  persuaded  the  imbecile  Louis  XV.  to  adopt  the  views 
of  the  writers  in  the  EncyclopSdie — the  minister  of  his  most 
Catholic  Majesty  of  Spain  may  fancy  the  property  of  the 
Society,  in  the  mother  country,  in  South  America,  and.  in 
the  East  Indies,  a  fair  object  of  plunder.  Marquis  de  Pom- 
bal  may  entertain  similar  opinions  at  Lisbon ;  but  surely 
the  judgment  of  a  knot  of  courtly  conspirators,  acting  in 
unhallowed  concert,  should  find  its  proper  weight  in  the 
balance  of  the  sanctuary.  Catherine  of  Eussia  and  the  great 
Frederick  of  Prussia  think  differently  of  these  men,  and 
profess  their  readiness  to  offer  them  an  asylum.  But  if 
it  be  true  (as  it  is  rumoured  in  the  Piazza  Colonna)  that 
the  restoration  of  Avignon,  estreated  by  France  during  the 
late  pontificate,  is  to  be  the  reward  of  Q-anganelli's  subser- 
viency to  the  court  of  Versailles,  I  must  say,  and  I  don't 
care  who  hears  it,  that  a  more  flagrant  case  of  simony  and 
corruption  never  disgraced  the  annals  of  the  Vatican.  As 
to  the  wretched  province  regained  by  such  means,  it  may 
well  bear  the  denomination  given  of  old  to  the  Potter's 

field,  HAKEl  BAMA  !  " 

A  dismal  scowl  passed  over  the  brow  of  my  interlocutor, 
"  Is  it  not  the  first  duty  of  the  supreme  pastor,"  he  hastily 
observed,  "  to  conciliate  the  heads  of  the  Christian  flock  ? 
Tour  own  country  teaches  a  lesson  on  pontifical  obstinacy. 


THE   PAINTEE,    BAEBT.  511 

Had  Clement  VII.  shewn  less  rigour  in  refusing  to  your 
eighth  Harry  his  demand,  by  insisting  on  the  very  doubtful 
canon  law  of  the  case,  England  would  at  this  day  be  the 
most  valuable  ffeoff  of  St.  Peter's  domain.  In  bygone  days, 
the  request  of  Philippe  Le  Bel,  backed  by  the  emperor,  the 
kings  of  England  and  Spain,  was  deemed  sufficient,  in  the 
teeth  of  evidence,  to  condemn  the  noble  brotherhood  of  the 
Temple.  These  "orders"  are  of  human  institution:  the 
Jesuits  must  be  yielded  up  to  the  exigency  of  the  times. 
To  calm  the  effervescence  of  the  moment,  the  Pope  may 
safely  dismiss  his  '  Janissaries.'  "  ' 

"  Tet  the  day  may  come,"  I  replied,  "  when  Christianity 
may  want  the  aid  of  science  and  of  literature — when  the 
paitry  defence  of  ignorant  bigotry  will  be  no  longer  of  any 
avail — when  all  the  motley  host  of  remaining  monks  and 
friars,  white,  black,  and  grey,  will  find  their  inability  to  fill 
the  space  left  void  by  the  suppression  of  that  intellectual 
and  redeeming  oedbe  which  once  destroyed  can  only  re- 
appear in  a  feeble  and  inefS.cient  imitation." 

Two  hours  had  now  elapsed  since  our  midnight  adventure ; 
and  the  warning  chime  of  the  palace  belfry  gave  me  an  op- 
portunity, in  accordance  with  Barry's  repeated  signals,  to 
take  leave.  The  prelate,  having  carefully  ascertained  our 
names  and  address,  placed  us  under  the  guidance  of  the  at- 
tendant m  waiting,  who  led  us  by  the  cortile  dei  Suizzeri  to 
the  Scala  regia  ;  and  we  finally  stood  in  front  of  St.  Peter's 
Church.  "We  paused  there  awhile,  little  dreaming  that  it 
was  the  last  night  we  should  pass  in  Eome.  The  moon  was 
up,  and  the  giant  obelisk  of  Sesostris,  that  had  measured 
the  sands  of  Lybia  with  its  shadow,  now  cast  its  gnomon  to 
the  very  foot  of  that  glorious  portico.  Crushing  vnth  peren- 
nial murmur,  the  two  immense  jets  d'eau  flung  out  their 
cataracts  on  each  side  of  the  sublime  monument,  and  alone 
broke  with  monotonous  sound  the  silence  of  the  night. 

Poor  MarceUa!  those  two  hours  had  been  a  space  of 
severe  trial  and  sad  suspense  for  thee ;  but  we  knew  not 
till  months  had  elapsed  the  fatal  consequences  that  ensued. 
Barry,  when  he  parted  with  her  father,  had  promised  to  re- 
main but  a  moment  in  the  gallery ;  and  old  Centurioni  bade 
his  daughter  wait  up  for  his  guests,  while  he  himself  sought 
his  quiet  pillow.    Hours  rolled  on,  and  we  came  not.     The 


512  FATHBE  PKOUT'S   EBLIQTTES. 

idea  of  nocturnal  assassination,  unfortunately  too  familiar 
to  the  Eoman  miad,  awakened  by  the  non-appearance  of  the 
Irish  artist,  took  rapid  possession  of  her  kindling  imagina- 
tion, as  she  watched  in  the  Torrione  in  vain  for  his  return 
The  transition  from  doubt  to  the  certainty  of  some  indefi- 
nable danger  was  the  work  of  an  instant.  Yielding  to  the 
bold  impulse  of  hereditary  instinct,  she  seized  the  bronze 
lamp  that  burned  on  the  mantelpiece,  grasped  a  Damascus 
blade,  the  weapon  of  some  crusader  in  olden  time,  and  gliding 
with  the  speed  of  thought,  was  soon  far  advanced  in  her 
searching  progress  through  the  corridors  and  galleries  of  the 
palace.  Had  the  statue  of  Lucretia  leaped  from  its  pedestal 
it  might  present  a  similar  appearance  in  gesture  and  deve- 
portment.  Alas,  she  was  never  to  re-enter  the  parental 
dwelling  !  Ere  the  morning  dawned  the  romantic  girl  was 
a  prisoner  in  the  Castle  of  St.  Angelo,  under  suspicion  of 
bemg  employed  by  the  Jesuits  to  assassinate  Ganganelli ! 

Strange  whispers  were  current  at  break  of  day  : — "  An 
Irish  painter  and  an  Irish  priest,  both  emissaries  of  '  the 
Society,'  had  been  detected  lurking  in  the  Vatican :  an  assault 
had  been  committed  on  the  sacred  person  of  the  pontiff: 
they  had  avowed  aU  in  a  secret  interview  with  his  holiness, 
and  had  confessed  that  they  were  employed  by  Lawrence 
Eicci,  the  general  of  the  order."  At  the  English  coffee- 
house in  the  Piazza  di  Spagna,  the  morning's  gossip  was 
early  circulated  in  Barry's  hearing  :  the  truth  flashed  on  his 
mind  at  once.  He  ran  to  my  apartments.  I  was  thun- 
derstruck. 

Nothing  had  as  yet  transpired  concerning  MarceUa's  im- 
prisonment ;  and  we,  unfortunately,  resolved  on  a  step 
which  gave  a  colourable  pretext  to  accusation.  In  the  hurry 
of  our  alarm,  we  agreed  on  quitting  Eome  at  once.  Barry 
took  the  road  to  Bologna ;  and  I  was  by  noon  in  the  Pontine 
marshes,  on  my  way  to  Naples.  Our  friends  thought  us 
safely  immured  in  those  cells  which  the  "holy  office"  still 
keeps  up  at  its  head-quarters  in  the  Dominican  convent, 
called,  ironically  enough,  "  La  Minerva." 

Old  Centurioni  was  debarred  the  privilege  of  seeing  his 
daughter  ;  in  silent  anguish  he  mourned  over  his  child,  and 
bemoaned  the  fate  of  the  young  foreigners,  who,  he  doubted 
not,  were  equally  in  the  hands  of  "justice."  But  the  worst 
was  to  come.    That  angelic  being,  whose  nature  was  too 


A    SEEIES    OH   MODEEN  LATIK  POETS.  ol3 

pure,  and  wjose  spirit  was  too  lofty,  to  endure  the  disgrace 
and  infamy  imputed  to  her,  remaiued  haughtily  and  indig- 
nantly passive  under  the  harsh  and  unmerited  infliction. 
She  gave  no  sign.  An  inflammatory  fever,  the  combined 
result  of  her  xlncertainty  concerning  the  fate  of  her  lover, 
and  irritation  at  the  very  thought  of  such  heinous  g^t 
thus  laid  to  her  charge,  closed  in  less  than  a  fortnight  her 
earthly  career.  Her  death  set  the  seal  to  my  friend's  evil 
destinv. 


A  SEEIES  OE  MODEEN  LATIN  POETS. 
Chaptee  I. — The  Sukwoem,  a  Poem.    By  Jeeome  Viba. 

"  Ecoo  Alessandro  il  mio  signor  Parneae ; 
O  dotta  eompagnia  clie  seco  meua ! 
Blosio,  Pierio,  e  VlDA  Cremonese 
D'alta  facondia  inessioabil  vena." 

Aeiosto,  Orl.  Fur,  cant,  ult.,  st.  xiii, 

"  Immortal  ViDA !  on  whose  honoured  brow 
The  poet's  bays  and  critic's  ivy  grow." 

Pope's  Essay  on  Criticism. 

At  the  southern  extremity  of  the  Erench  metropolis  there 
lieth  an  extensive  burying-ground,  vrhich  rejoiceth  (if  any 
such  lugubrious  concern  can  be  said  to  rejoice)  in  the  name 
of  "  Cimetihre  du  Mont  Parnasse."  Some  Cockney  tourists 
have  had  the  curiosity  to  visit  this  Parnassian  grave-yard, 
under  the  impression  that  it  was  a  kind  of  G-aOican  "  Poets' 
Comer,"  or  sepulchral  "limbo,"  set  apart  for  the  de- 
ceased children  of  the  muse,  in  the  same  national  spirit  that 
raised  the  "H6tel  des  InvaHdes,"  and  inscribed  on  the 
church  of  Ste.  G-enevieve,  or  "Pantheon"  (where  Marat 
and  Mirabeau  and  Voltaire  were  entombed),  that  lapidary 
lampoon,  "  Aux  grands  hommes  lapatrie  reeonnaissante."  No 
such  object,  however,  appears  to  have  been  contemplated  by 
the  municipal  authorities  of  Paris,  when  they  inclosed  the 
funereal  field  thus  whimsically  designated. 

L   L 


514  TATHEE   PROTTt'S    EELIQtTES. 

A  collection  of  poetical  effasions  in  any  one  of  the  dead 
languages  would,  we  apprehend,  considering  the  present 
state  and,  prospects  of  literature,  turn  out  to  be,  in  the 
gloomiest  sense  of  the  word,  a  grave  undertaking.  Hebrew, 
Grreek,  Latin,  and  Anglo-Saxon,  are  truly  and  really  dead, 
defunct,  mute,  unspoken. 

"  Monsieur  Malbrook  est  mort,  est  mort  et  interr^." 

Hebrew  is  dead,  and  no  mistake! — the  "Wandering  Jew  must 
have  found  that  out  long  since.  "We  venture  to  affirm  that 
Salathiel  (who,  according  to  Croly,  lurks  about  the  syna- 
gogue in  St.  Alban's  Place)  has  often  laughed  at  the  ahevas 
of  our  modem  Eabbim,  and  at  those  pothooks  "withpoiats" 
which  are  hawked  about  among  the  learned  as  copies  of  the 
original  Hebrew  Scriptures.  As  to  the  idiom  of  King 
Alfred,  to  say  nothing  of  Queen  Boadicea,  how  few  of 
our  literati  are  conversant  therein  or  cognisant  thereof! 
Kemble,  "Wright,  and  Lingard  (pauci  quos  eequus  amavit 
Jupiter),  enjoy  an  undisturbed  monopoly  of  Anglo-Saxon — 
Greek  exhibits  but  few  symptoms  of  vitality ;  no  Barnes, 
no  Person,  no  "Wolfi",  grace  these  degenerate  days :  nay, 
the  mitre  seems  to  have  acted  as  an  extinguisher  on  the 
solitary  light  of  Bloomfield.  Oxford  hath  now  nothing  ia 
common  with  the  Bocpogos  hut  the  name,  and  the  groves 
of  Cam  have  ceased  to  be  those  of  Academus.  Things  are 
not  much  better  on  the  Continent.  AVhile  Buonaparte  from 
the  rock  of  St.  Helena  stiU  threatened  Europe,  we  recollect, 
in  a  provincial  city  of  France,  a  candidate  for  the  office  of 
town-librarian,  who  was  outvoted  by  an  ignorant  competitor, 
and,  on  inquiry,  found  that  many  of  the  royalist  constitu- 
ency, hearing  of  his  being  an  ardent  "  Hellenist,"  had 
fancied  him  a  very  dangerous  character  indeed.  Latin  is  still 
the  language  of  the  Eomish  liturgy,  and  consequently  may 
have  some  claim  to  rank,  if  not  as  a  living  tongue,  at  least 
as  one  half-alive  :  "  de/unctus  adhuc  loquitur."  Though,  in 
sober  truth,  if  we  are  to  judge  from  the  quality  generally 
met  vrith  in  that  quarter,  we  should  be  inclined  to  say  that 
the  tongue  of  Cicero  had  long  since  gone  to  the  dogs. 
"Weare  tempted,however,to  try  onthese  "unknown  tonnes" 


A   SEEIES   OE   MODEEN  LATIN  POETS.  515 

the  eflfects  of  that  galvanic  process  whicli  is  known  to  be  so 
successful  in  the  case  of  a  dead  frog.  We  open  the  under- 
taking with  a  name  that  may  give  assurance  to  our  first  at- 
tempt, and  prevent  uncharitable  folks  from  applying  to  our 
operations  the  old  surgical  sarcasm  of  experimentum  in  animd 
vili.  The  beautiful  poem  of  Vida  shall  fitly  introduce  our 
series,  and  usher  in  these  "  modem  instances  "  of  lively  com- 
position— lively  even  in  a  dead  language.  It  will  soon  be  seen 
whether  Prout  can  be  allowed  by  the  local  authorities  to  carry 
on  the  trade  of  resurrectionist  in  the  Cimetihre  du  Mont  Par- 
nasse.  If  the  "  subjects  he  has  disinterred  "  be  not  found 
fresh  enough  for  the  purposes  of  critical  dissection,  stiU  we 
do  not  despair ;  something  may  be  made  of  the  most  thin 
and  meagre  anatomies,  and  a  good  price  is  occasionally  got 
for  a  skeleton.  The  hermit  of  Watergrasshill  never  pretended 
to  enjoy  the  faculty  of  old  Ezekiel — to  clothe  with  substantial 
flesh  the  dry  frame- work,  the  "  disjecta  membra"  the  poetical 
bones  scattered  over  the  vale  of  Temp^ ;  though  such  mi- 
raculous gift  might  find  full  scope  for  its  exercise  in  the 
Golgotha  of  Parnassus.  "And  behold,  there  were  very 
many  bones  in  the  open  valley,  andlo!  they  were  very  dry." — 
Ezekiel,  xixvii.  2. 

We  had  first  decided  on  calling  this  new  batch  of  Prout 
Papers  a  "  modern  Latin  anthology,"  but,  on  reflection,  we 
have  discarded  that  common-place  title  ; ,  the  term  anthology 
bearing  obvious  reference  to  a  still  blooming  flower-garden, 
and  being  far  too  fresh  and  gay  a  conceit  for  our  purpose. 
Prefixed  to  a  poetic  miscellany  in  any  of  the  living  tongues, 
it  might  pass,  and  even  be  deemed  suitable ;  applied  to 
Latin  or  Greek,  it  would  be  a  palpable  misnomer.  Dried 
plants,  preserved  specimens,  and  shrivelled  exotics,  may 
perhaps  make  up  a  hortus  siccus ;  but  not  a  garland  or  a 
nosegay. 

Dead  languages  have  one  great  advantage,  however,  over 
living.  These  latter  are  fickle  and  perpetually  changing 
(like  the  sex),  varium  et  mutahde :  whereas  the  former, 
like  old  family  portraits,  are  fixed  in  form,  feature,  and 
expression.  Flesh  and  blood,  confessedly,  have  not  the 
durability  of  a  marble  bust ;  the  parlance  of  the  ancients  is 
eifectuaUy  petrified.  There  is  nothing  "  movable  "  in  the 
"  characters  "  of  Greek  and  Latin  phraseology:  all  is  stereo- 

il2 


516  FATHEE  PEOrx'S.EEUQTJES. 

type.  It  IS  pleasant  to  compose  in  an  idiom  of  which  every 
word  is  long  since  canonised,  and  has  taken  its  allotted  place 
equally  beyond  the  reach  of  vulgarism  and  the  fear  of  vicissi- 
tude. Poor  Geoffrey  Chaucer  knows  to  his  cost  the  mise- 
ries attendant  on  the  use  of  an  obsolete  vocabulary.  Some 
modern  journeyman  has  found  it  expedient  to  dislocate  all 
his  joints,  under  a  pretext  that  his  gait  was  awkward :  to 
rejuvenate  the  old  fellow,  it  was  thought  best  to  take  him  to 
pieces  on  the  plan  of  those  Greek  children,  who  boiled  their 
grandfather  in  a  magic  cauldron,  and,  as  might  be  expected, 
found  "  death  in  the  pot."  Who  can  now  relish  Sir  Walter 
Ealeigh,  or  sigh  with  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  or  sing  the  merry 
ballads  of  Sir  Thomas  More,  whose  popular  poems  graced 
the  dawn  of  metrical  composition  in  England  ?  Alas  ! 

"  Every  wave  that  we  danced  on  at  morning  elDbs  from  us, 
And  leaves  us  at  eve  on  the  cold  beach  alone." 

Dr.  Maginn,  in  his  younger  days,  deeply  pondering  on  the 
fleeting  nature  of  the  beauties  of  modern  compositions, 
and  the  frail  and  transitory  essence  of  all  liviag  forms  of 
speech,  had  a  notion  of  rescuing  these  charming  things  from 
inevitable  decay,  and  announced  himself  to  the  public  as  a 
poetical  embalmee.  He  printed  a  proposal  for  wrapping 
up  in  the  imperishable  folds  of  Greek  and  Latin,  with  sundry 
spices  of  his  own,  the  songs  and  ballads  of  these  islands  ; 
which,  in  a  few  centuries,  wxU  be  unintelligible  to  posterity. 
He  had  already  commenced  operating  on  "  Black-eyed 
Susan,"  and  had  cleverly  disembowelled  "  AUey  Croaker ;" 
both  of  which  made  excellent  classic  mummies.  "  Wappiug 
Old  Stairs,"  in  his  Latin  translation,  seemed  to  be  the  veri- 
table Gradiis  ad  Parnassum;  and  his  Greek  version  of  '"Twas 
in  Trafalgar  Bay  "  beat  all  JEschylus  ever  sung  about  Sala- 
mis.  "What  became  of  the  project,  and  why  the  doctor 
gave  it  up,  we  cannot  tell :  he  is  an  unaccountable  cha- 
racter. But  while  we  regret  this  embalming  plan  should 
have  been  abandoned,  we  are  free  to  confess  that,  in  our 
opinion,  "  Old  King  Cole,"  in  Hebrew,  was  his  best  effort. 
It  was  equal  to  Solomon  in  all  his  glory. 

These  prolegomena  have  led  us  in  a  somewhat  zigzag  path 
far  away  from  our  starting-point,  which,  on  loo£ng  back. 


A  SEEIES    OT    MODEEN   LATIN   POETS.  517 

we  find  to  be  Jerome  Vida's  poem  of  the  "  Silkworm." 
!Prom  a  memorandum  in  the  chest,  we  learn  that  Prout  was 
induced  to  undertake  this  translation  in  the  year  1825,  when 
400,000  mulberry-trees  were  planted  on  the  Kingston 
estates  by  what  was  called  "  the  Irish  Silk  Company,"  with 
a  view  to  "  better  the  condition  of  the  peasantry  in  the 
south  of  Ireland."  That  scheme,  somewhat  similar  to  the 
lottery  humbug  lately  got  up  by  Messrs.  Bish  and  O'Con- 
neU,  produced  in  its  day  what  is  sought  to  be  again  effected 
by  designing  scoundrels  now — it  created  a  temporary  mysti- 
fication, and  stayed  off  the  enactment  oe  pooe-iaws  for 
the  season.  Prout  early  discovered  the  hollow  treachery  of 
aU  these  projects,  and  locked  up  his  MS.  in  disgust.  He 
seems,  however,  to  have  reperused  the  poem  shortly  before 
his  death  ;  but  the  recollection  of  so  many  previous  attempts 
at  delusion,  and  the  persevering  profligacy  with  which  the 
dismal  farce  is  renewed,  seems  to  have  so  strongly  roused 
his  indignant  energies,  that,  if  we  decipher  right  the  cross- 
ings in  red  letters  on  the  last  page,  the  aged  clergyman, 
deeming  it  an  act  of  virtue  to  feel  intense  hatred  for  the 
whole  of  the  selfish  crew  that  thrives  on  Irish  starvation, 
has  laid  his  dying  curse  on  the  heads,  individually  and  col- 
lectively, of  Lord  Limerick,  Spring  Eice,  and  Daniel  O'Con- 
neU. 

OLIVBE  TOEKE. 


WatergrassMU,  May  1825. 
"When  at  the  revival  of  letters  the  beauties  of  ancient  lite- 
rature burst  on  the  modern  mind,  and  revealed  a  new  world 
to  the  human  intellect,  the  first  impulse  of  all  who  had  the 
luck  to  be  initiated  in  the  mysteries  of  classic  taste,  was  to 
model  their  thoughts  and  expressions  on  these  newly-dis- 
covered originals,  and,  like  Saul  among  the  prophets,  to 
catch  with  the  very  language  of  inspiration  a  more  exalted 
range  of  feelings  and  a  strain  of  loftier  sentiment.  The  lite- 
rati of  Europe  conversed  in  Latin,  and  corresponded  in 
Greek.  It  had  not  yet  entered  into  their  heads,  that  the 
rude  materials  of  Italian,  rrench,  and  English,  might  be 
wrought  up  into  forms  of  as  exquisite  perfection,  as  they 


f>18  i-ATHEE   PEOTTT's    EEI.IQTJES. 

then  possessed  in  the  remnants  of  classic  eloquence  and 
poetry.  They  despaired  of  making  a  silken  purse  out  of  a 
sow's  ear.  The  example  of  Dante  and  Petrarch  had  not 
emboldened  them  ;  the  latter,  indeed,  always  considered  his 
Latin  poem,  written  on  the  second  Punic  war,  and  entitled 
"  Africa"  as  much  more  likely  to  ensure  him  permanent 
renown  than  his  sonnets  or  canzoni ;  and  the  former  had  to 
struggle  with  his  own  misgivings  long  and  seriously  ere  he 
decided  on  not  trusting  his  Commedia  to  the  custody  of  Latin. 
Ajiosto  has  left  two  volumes  of  Latin  poetry.  It  wa:s  deemed 
a  hazardous  experiment  to  embark  intellectual  capital  on 
the  mere  security  of  a  vulgar  tongue ;  and  to  sink  the  riches 
of  the  mind  in  so  depreciated  a  concern  was  thought  a  most 
unprofitable  investment.  Hence  genius  was  expended  on 
what  appeared  the  more  solid  speculation,  and  none  but 
Greek  and  Latin  scripta  were  "  quoted  "  in  the  market  of 
literature.  All  this  "  paper  "  has  wofully  fallen  in  value : 
I  see  little  prospect  of  its  ever  again  looking  up. 

Lord  Bacon  and  Leibnitz,  Newton,  Q-rotius,  and  MUton, 
long  after  modem  languages  had  become  well-established 
as  vehicles  of  valuable  thought,  still  adhered  to  the  safer 
side,  and  thus  secured  to  their  writings  European  perusal. 
An  Universal  Language,  a  General  Pacification,  and  a  Com- 
mon Agreement  among  Christian  sects,  were  three  favourite 
day-dreams  of  Leibnitz ;  but,  alas !  each  of  these  projects 
seems  as  far  as  ever  removed  from  any  prospect  of  reah- 
zation.  Latin,  however,  may,  in  some  sense,  be  considered 
the  idiom  most  universally  spread  throughout  the  repubUe 
of  letters.  The  Eoman  empire  and  the  Eoman  church,  by 
a  combined  efibrt,  have  brought  this  result ;  and  Virgil  seems 
to  have  a  prophetic  vision  of  both  these  majestic  agents 
actively  engaged  in  the  dissemination  of  his  poetry,  when 
he  promises  immortality  to  Nisus  and  Euryalus : 

"  Fortunati  ambo  !  si  quid  mea  carmina  poseimt 
Nulla  dies  unquam  memori  vos  eximet  gevo 
Dum  domus  Ainete  oapitoK  immobile  saxum 
Acoolet,  imperiumque  Pater  Romanua  habebit." 

If  by  domus  JEneeB  he  mean  the  dynasty  of  the  CsBsars, 
the  Pater  Romanus  must  allude  to  the  popes ;  and  Leo  the 
Tenth  was  probably  in  his  mind's  eye  when  he  made  this 
vaticination. 


A   SEBIES    OF  MOBEEN   lAXIW   POETS.  519 

To  excel  in  Latin  poetry  was,  under  that  golden  pontifi- 
cate, a  favoTirite  accomplisliment.  Vida  and  Sannazar, 
Bembo  and  Fi-acastor,  cultivated  witli  success  this  branch 
of  the  humanities  in  Italy.  The  reformer  Theodore  Beza 
was  a  distinguished  Latin  poet  at  Geneva,  though,  in  the 
selection  of  some  of  his  subjects,  he  shews  a  taste  rather 
akin  to  that  of  our  own  Theodore  Hook  than  marked  by  any 
evangelical  tendency.  The  Jesuits,  while  they  upheld  the 
papal  empire,  powerfully  contributed  also  to  enlarge  the 
dominions  of  the  Eoman  muse ;  and  Casimir  Sarbiewski, 
Eapin,  Vaniere,  and  Sidronius,  were  at  one  time  the  admir- 
ation of  aU  European  academies.  Buchanan  is  far  better 
known  abroad  by  his  carmina  than  by  his  Scotch  history ; 
and  the  Latin  poems  of  Addison,  Milton,  PameU,  with 
those  of  that  witty  Welshman,  Owen  (not  to  speak  of  the 
numerous  Muscb  Anglicance,  Musce  Etonenses,  &c.  Ac),  have 
fully  established  our  character  for  versification  on  the  conti- 
nent. It  is  not  sufficiently  known  that  the  celebrated  poem. 
Be  Connubiis  Florum,  which  gave  the  hint  of  the  Loves  of  the 
Plants*  and  of  Darwin's  Botanic  Garden,  was,  in  fact,  the 
production  of  an  Irishman,  who,  under  the  name  of  Deme- 
trius de  la  Croix,  published  it  at  Paris  in  1727.  He  was 
from  Kerry,  and  his  real  patronymic  was  Diarmid  M'En- 
croe  ;t  though,  like  his  immortal  countryman,  Dinnish 
Lardner,  he  exchanged  that  for  a  more  euphonous  appella- 
tion. Scotland's  illustrious  son,  the  "  admirable"  Crichton, 
whose  brilliant  career  and  character  should,  one  would 
imagine,  have  attracted  the  notice  of  Sir  Walter  Scott,  they 
being  wonderfully  susceptible  of  historico-romantic  deve- 
lopment, J  possessed,  among  other  singular  accomplishments,' 
the  faculty  of  extemporising  in  Latin  verse;  and  on  one 
occasion  before  the  assembled  literati  of  Mantua,  having 
previously  dazzled  his  auditory  with  a  display  of  philosophy, 
mathematics,  divinity,  and  eloquence,  he  wound  up  the  day's 

*  These,  in  their  turn,  produced  the  "  Loves  of  the  Triangles,"  in 
the  Anti-Jacobin. 

t  See  Botanicon  Farisiense  of  LeraiUant,  edit,  by  Boerhave,  p.  3. 

J  We  are  glad  to  find  that  the  author  of  Rookwood  has  taken  up  the 
cudgels  for  this  neglected  Scot.  We  anticipate  a  romance  in  the  true 
con  spirito  style  already  employed  so  felicitously  in  the  case  of  the 
"admirable"  Turpin.     Of  this  more  anon. 


520  TATHEE  PEOTIT'S   EELIQUES, 

proceedings  "bj  reciting  a  whole  poem,  on  a  subject  fiir- 
nished  by  his  antagonist,  and  dismissed  the  astonished 
crowd  ia  raptures  with  his  unpremeditated  song.  Thomaa 
Dempsterus,  another  native  of  "  that  ilk,"  won  his  laurels 
in  this  department  of  composition ;  as  did  WiUiam  Lilly, 
the  gramaiarian,  and  Thomas  Morus,  the  chancellor,  in  Eng- 
land. In  Holland,  Johannes  Secundus  gained  renown  by  his 
Basia ;  Hugo,  by  his  Pia  Desideria  ;  not  to  mention  Daniel 
Heinsius  and  Boxhorn.  In  Spain,  Arias  Montanus,  so  well 
known  by  his  edition  of  the  Hebrew  Bible,  was  not  inele- 
gant as  a  Latin  versifier.  Cardinal  Barberini  (afterwards 
Pope  Urban  VIII.)  ranks  high  among  the  favoured  of  the 
muse :  the  Oxford  edition  of  his  poems  (e  typis  Clarendon. 
1726)  lies  now  before  me.  Ang.  Politian  Scaliger  and 
Sfondrat  (De  raptu  Helents)  should  not  be  omitted  in  the 
nomenclature  of  glory  :  neither  should  the  Jesuit  Maffeus, 
who  recited  his  daily  breviary  in  Greek,  lest  the  low  lan- 
guage of  our  Kturgy  might  corrupt  the  pure  Latinity  of  his 
style ;  and  who,  deeming  the  epic  action  of  Virgil's  poem 
incomplete,  has  written  a  thirteenth  !  canto  for  the  Mneid, 
But  of  all  who  at  the  restoration  of  classic  learning  trod  in 
the  footsteps  of  Horace  and  Virgil,  none  came  so  close  to 
these  ^eat  masters  as  Jerome  Vida;  and  the  encomium 
which  Pope  takes  an  opportunity  of  passing  on  him  is  not 
undeserved. 

"  But  see !  each  muse  in  Leo's  golden  days 
Starts  from  her  trance  and  trims  her  withered  bays, 
Home's  ancient  Genius  o'er  the  ruins  spread, 
Shakes  off  the  dust,  and  rears  its  reverend  head. 

Then  Sculpture  and  her  sister  arts  revive ; 
Stones  leap  to  form,  and  rocks  begin  to  live ; 
With  sweeter  notes  each  rising  temple  rung, 
A  Eaphael  painted,  and  a  Vida  sung." 

The  author  of  the  Essay  on  Criticism  has  more  than  once 
dwelt  with  evident  complacency  on  the  merits  of  Vida,  but 
it  was  by  largely  borrowing  from  his  writings  (as  also  in 
the  case  of  BoUeau)  that  he  principally  manifested  his 
esteem  and  predilection.  The  celebrated  Unes  on  adapting 
the  sound  to  the  sense, 

"  Soft  is  the  strain  vrhen  zephyr,"  &c. 


A   SEEIES   OP  MODEEN   LATIN   TOETS.  521 

are  a  nearly  literal  translation  of  a  passage  in  our  Italian 
bishop's  poem,  De  Arte  Poetiea  ;  a  fact  Pope  indicates  in 
the  early  editions : 

"  Turn  si  leeta  canunt  hilari  quoque  carmina  Tultu,"  &o. — 

Lib.  iii.  v.  403. 

A  more  flagrant  instance  of  plagiarism  occurs  in  the  Rape  of 
the  Lock,  where  card-playing  being  introduced  (canto  iii.), 
not  only  is  the  conduct  of  the  narrative  borrowed  from 
Vida's  Schacchia  Indus,  ("game  of  chess,")  but  whole  similes 
are  unhesitatingly  appropriated. 

POPE.  VIDA. 

"Clubs,  diamondSi  hearts,  in  wild  dis-  "Nonalitercampis^^w  se ^xeantrinque 

order  seen,  Gomposuit  duplici  digestis  ordine  turmis, 

With  throngs  promiscuous  strew  the  level  Adveraisgue  amhse  fulsere  colorxbus  alee 

green ;  Quam  gallorum  acies  alpino  frigore  lacUa 

Thus  when  dispersed  a  routed  army  runs,  Carrara,  si  tendunt  albis  in  prselia  signis 

Of  Asia's  troops  and  Afric's  sahle  sons,  '  Auroras  populos  contra  et  Phastonte  pe- 

With  like  confusion  diiferent  nations  fly,  rustos, 

Of  various  habit  and  of  various  dye :  Insuper  iElthiopas   et  nigri  Memnonis 

The  fierce  battalions  disunited  fall  agmen." 

In  heaps  on  heaps — one  fate  awaits  them  ScTuzcchia,  c.  i.  v.  80. 

all." 

Vida  himself  copied  YirgU.  rather  too  closely,  and  in  his 
Poetiea  candidly  confesses  how  he  went  to  Work 

"  Cum  vero  oultis  moliriB  furta  poetis 
Cautius  ingredere  et  raptus  niemor  ocoiile  ver^s, 
Verborum  indidis  atque  ordine  falle  legentes." — Lib.  iii.  220. 

Like  the  robber  Cacus,  in  Virgil,  who  to  elude  pursuit 
dragged  cattle  backward  by  the  tail,  thus  inverting  the  foot- 
tracks. 

"  CaudA  in  speluncam  tractos  versisque  viarum 
Indiciis  raplos  saxo  occultabat  opaco." — jUneid,  lib.  Tiii, 

Vida  was  bom  at  Cremona,  and  graduated  at  the  uniyer- 
sities  of  Padua  and  Bologna :  at  tbe  accession  of  Leo  X.  he 
was  a  resident  canon  at  the  church  of  St.  John  Lateran. 
His  peculiar  excellence  as  a  Latin  poet  pointed  him  out  to 
Leo  for  the  execution  of  a  project  which  that  prelate  had 
long  wished  to  see  realised,  yiz.  a  grand  epic  on  the  esta- 
blishment of  Christianity.  Vida  had  sagacity  to  perceive 
that  it  would  require  a  greater  genius  than  the  Man- 
tuan  bard  himself  to  achieve,  VTith  the  severe  materials 
of  the  Gospel,  an  imaginative  epic  such  as  the  pontiff  had  in 


522  rATHEE  peotjt's  eeliqtjes. 

contemplation.  But  the  wishes  of  his  illustrious  patron  could 
not  be  disregarded  ;  especially  as  the  request  came  accompa- 
nied with  the  gift  of  a  rich  priory  (St.  Silvester,  at  Tuscu- 
lunf).  The  result  of  his  Tusculan  meditations  on  the  Christian 
epoptea  was  not  published  till  after  the  death  of  its  pontifical 
projector,  and  then  appeared  Christiados,  libri  XII. ;  a  poem 
of  merit,  but  far  from  realising  the  beau  id^al  of  a  "  religious 
epic,"  that  glorious  consummation  reserved  for  John  Milton. 
The  comparison  with  the  JEtieid  was  fatal  to  its  success. 

"  Mantua !  vffi  miseree  nimitim  Ticina  Cremonse  !" 

Clement  VIII.,  however,  rewarded  the  bard  with  a  bi- 
shopric :  Vida  was  promoted  to  the  see  of  Alba.  To  him  the 
inhabitants  were  indebted,  for  protection  against  a  French 
army,  and  his  conduct  at  that  crisis  is  eulogised  by  the  histo- 
rian Paul  Jovio.  Than  Vida  no  more  distinguished  prelate 
sat  at  the  Council  of  Trent. 

Such  is  the  personage  from  whose  poems  I  select  a  speci- 
men, guided  ia  my  choice  by  circumstances  of  a  local  nature. 
The  introduction  of  the  mulberry  tree  into  Cork  district  by 
the  Earl  of  Kingston  (1820),  to  afford  iadustrious  occupa- 
tion to  the  Munster  peasantry,  has  engaged  my  wishes  for 
the  success  of  so  philanthropic  an  experiment ;  and  I  shall 
feel  happy  if  Vida's  poem,  De  Bombycibus,  can  be  made  sub- 
servient to  the  purposes  of  the  "  Irish  Silk  Company."  I  fear 
the  habits  of  my  countrymen  (so  dissimilar  from  those  of 
the  Italian  peasantry  who  cultivate  this  delightful  branch  of 
industry)  will  prove  an  obstacle  to  its  permanent  establish- 
ment ;  but  a  fair  trial  ought  to  be  given  the  vrorms. 

The  sun  that  illumines  all  creation  shines  not  on  the 
mere  Irish ;  and  alma  mater  tellus  is  to  them  but  an  ivjusta 
noverca.  But  "  let  that  pass."  On  the  subject  of  poor- 
laws,  and  the  conduct  of  those  who,  for  palpable  purposes, 
oppose  their  enactment,  I  cannot  enter  with  a  steady  pulse. 
Now,  to  Vida. 


JEEOMB   TIBA's    SII.KWOEM.  523 


0A2fT0    PIEST. 
I. 

List  to  my  lay,  daughter  of  Lombardy 

Hope  of  G-onzaga's  house,  fair  IsabeEe  I 
Graced  with  thy  name,  the  simplest  melody, 

Albeit  from  rural  pipe  or  rustic  shell. 

Might  aU  the  musio  of  a  court  excel ; 
Light  though  the  subject  of  my  song  may  seem, 

'Tis  one  on  which  thy  spirit  lores  to  dwell ; 
Nor  on  a  tiny  insect  dost  thou  deem 
Thy  poet's  labour  lost,  nor  frivolous  my  theme. 

II. 

For  thou  dost  often  meditate  how  hence 

Commerce  deriveth  aliment ;  how  Art 
Hay  minister  to  natire  opulence. 

The  wealth  of  foreign  lands  to  home  impart, 

And  make  of  Italy  the  general  mart. 
These  are  thy  goodly  thoughts — how  best  to  raise     , 

Thy  country's  industry.     A  patriot  heart 

Beats  in  thy  gentle  breast — no  Tulgar  praise  ! 
Be  then  this  spinner-worm  the  hero  of  my  lays  ! 

III. 

Full  many  a  century  it  crept,  the  cluld 

Of  distant  China  or  the  torrid  zone  ; 
Wasted  its  web  upon  the  woodlands  wild, 

And  spun  its  golden  tissue  all  alone, 

Clothing  no  reptile's  body  but  its  own.* 
So  crawled  a  brother-worm  o'er  mount  and  glen, 

Uncivilised,  uncouth  ;  tiU,  social  grown. 
He  sought  the  cities  and  the  haunts  of  men — 
Science  and  Art  soon  tamed  the  forest  denizen. 

IV. 

Bescued  from  woods,  now  under  friendly  roof 
Postered  and  fed,  and  sheltered  from  the  blast, 

PuU  soon  the  wondrous  wealtli  of  warp  and  woof — 
Wealth  by  these  puny  labourers  amassed, 
Eepaid  the  hand  that  spread  their  green  repast : 

Bright  merrily  they  plied  their  jocund  toil. 

And  from  their  mouths  the  silken  treasures  cast, 

Twisting  theu-  canny  thread  in  many  a  coU, 
WMle  men  looked  on  and  smiled,  and  hailed  the  shining  spoil. 


*  ^eniii  neo  honos  neo  gloria  filo  ! 


524  FATHER  peout's  eeliques. 

V. 

Sweet  is  the  poet's  ministry  to  teach 
How  the  wee  operatives  should  be  fed ; 

Their  wants  and  changes  ;  what  befitteth  each  t 
What  mysteries  attend  the  genial  bed, 
And  how  suoeessiTe  progenies  are  bred. 

Happy  if  he  his  countrymen  engage 

fii  paths  of  peace  and  industry  to  tread ; 

Happier  the  poet  still,  if  o'er  his  page 
Fair  ISABBiiA's  een  shed  radiant  patronage ! 

VI. 
Thou,  then,  who  wouldst  possess  a  creeping  flock 

Of  sUten  sheep,  their  glossy  fleece  to  shear, 
Learn  of  their  days  how  scanty  is  the  stock : 

Barely  two  months  of  each  recurring  year 

Make  up  the  measure  of  their  brief  career ; 
They  spin  their  little  hour,  they  weare  their  ball. 

And,  when  their  task  is  done,  then  disappear 
Within  that  silken  dome's  sepulchral  hall ; 
And  the  third  moon  looks  out  upon  their  funeral. 

VII. 

Theirs  is,  in  truth,  a  melancholy  lot, 
If  ever  the  offspring  of  their  lores  to  see ! 

The  parent  of  a  thousand  sons  may  not 
Spectator  of  his  children's  gambols  be, 
Or  hail  the  birth  of  his  young  family. 

From  orphan-eggs,  fruit  of  a  fond  embrace, 
Spontaneous  hatched,  an  insect  tenantry 

Creep  forth,  their  sires  departed  to  replace : 
Thus,  posthiunously  bom,  springs  up  an  annual  race. 

VIII. 

Still  watchful  lest  their  birth  be  premature, 
From  the  sun's  wistful  eye  remove  the  seed, 

While  yet  the  season  wavers  insecure. 

While  yet  no  leaves  have  budded  forth  to  feed 
With  juicy  provender  the  tender  breed ; 

Nor  usher  beings  into  hfe  so  new 

Witholit  provision — 'twere  a  cruel  deed ! 

Ah,  such  improvidence  men  often  rue ! 
Tis  a  sad,  wicked  thing, — if  Malthua  telleth  true. 

IX. 

But  when  the  vernal  equinox  is  passed, 
And  the  gay  mulberry  in  gallant  trim 

Hath  robed  himself  in  verdant  vest  at  last 
('Tis  well  to  wait  until  thou  seest  him 


JEEOME  tida's  silkwoem.  525 

With  summer-garb  of  green  on  every  limb), 
Then  is  thy  time.     Be  cautious  still,  nor  risk 
Thine  enterprise  while  yet  the  moon  is  dim, 
But  tarry  tiU  she  hangeth  out  her  disc, 
Replenished  with  fall  light,  then  breed  thy  spinners  brisk. 

X. 

Methinks  that  here  some  gentle  maiden  begs 

To  know  how  best  this  genial  deed  is  done  : — 
Some  on  a  napkin  strew  the  Kttle  eggs. 

And  simply  hatch  their  silkworms  in  the  sun ; 

But  there's  a  better  plan  to  fix  upon. 
Wrapt  in  a  muslin  kerchief,  pure  and  warm, 

Lay  them  within  thy  bosom  safe  ;*  nor  shun 
Nature's  kind  office  till  the  tiny  swarm 
Begins  to  creep.    Fear  not ;  they  cannot  do  thee  harm. 

XI. 

Meantime  a  fitting  residence  prepare, 

Wherein  thy  pigmy  artisans  may  dwell. 
And  furnish  forth  their  factory  with  care  : 

Of  season'd  timber  build  the  spinner's  cell. 

And  be  it  lit  and  ventilated  well ; 
And  range  them  upon  insulated  shelves, 

Eising  above  each  other  parallel : 
There  let  them  crawl — there  let  the  little  elves 
On  oarpetting  of  leaf  gaily  disport  themselves. 

XII. 
And  be  their  house  impervious  both  to  rain 

And  to  th'  inclemency  of  sudden  cold : 
See  that  no  hungry  sparrow  entrance  gain. 

To  glut  his  maw  and  desolate  the  fold, 

Banging  among  his  victims  uncontrolled. 
Nay,  I  have  heard  that  once  a  wicked  hen 

Obtained  admittance  by  manoeuvre  bold, 
Slaughtering  the  insects  in  their  httle  den ; 
If  I  had  caught  her  there, — she  had  not  come  again. 

XIII. 
Stop  up  each  crevice  in  the  silk  Worm-house, 

Each  gaping  orifice  be  sure  to  flU ; 
For  oftentimes  a  sacrilegious  mouse 

Will  fatal  inroad  make,  intent  on  ill, 

*  Tu  conde  sinu  velamine  teol  a. 
Nee  pudeat  roseas  inter  fovisse  papillas. 


526  FATHER   PEOUT's   EEMQUES. 

And  in  cold  blood  the  gentle  spinners  kiU.* 
Ah,  eniel  wretch !  whose  idol  is  thy  belly, 

The  blood  of  innocence  why  dost  thou  spill  ? 
Dost  thou  not  know  that  silA  is  in  that  jelly  ? 
Oro  forth,  and  seek  elsewhere  a  dish  of  vermicelli. 

XIV. 

When  thy  young  caterpillars  'gin  to  creep. 

Spread  them  with  care  upon  the  oaken  planks ; 

And  let  them  learn  from  infancy  to  keep 

Their  proper  station,  and  preserve  their  ranks- 
Wot  crawl  at  random,  playing  giddy  pranks. 

Let  them  be  taught  their  dignity,  nor  seek. 
Dress' d  in  silk  gown,  to  act  like  mountebanks : 

Thus  careful  to  eschew  each  vulgar  freak,       , 
Sober  they  maun  grow  up,  industrious  and  meek. 

•     XV. 

Their  minds  kind  Nature  wisely  pre-arranged, 
And  of  domestic  habits  made  them  fond ; 

Karely  they  roam,  or  wish  their  dwelling  changed. 
Or  from  their  keeper's  vigilance  abscond : 
Pleased  with  their  home,  they  travel  not  beyond. 

Else,  wo  is  me !  it  were  a  bitter  potion 
To  hunt  each  truant  and  each  vagabond : 

Haply  of  such"  attempts  they  have  no  notion, 
Nor  on  their  heads  is  seen  "  the  bump  of  locomotion." 

XVI. 
The  same  kind  Nature  (who  doth  all  things  right) 

Their  stomachs  hath  from  infancy  imbued 
Straight  with  a  most  tremendous  appetite  ; 

And  till  the  leaf  they  love  is  o'er  them  strew' d, 

Their  Uttle  mouths  wax  clamorous  for  food. 
For  their  first  banquetings  this  plan  adopt — 

Cull  the  most  tender  leaves  in  all  the  wood. 
And  let  them,  ere  upon  the  worms  they're  dropp'd. 
He  minced  for  their  young  teeth,  and  dihgently  ohopp'd. 

XVII. 
Pass'd  the  first  week,  an  epoch  will  begin, 

A  crisis  which  maun  all  thy  care  engage  ; 
For  then  the  little  asp  will  cast  his  skin. 

Such  change  of  raiment  marks  each  separate  stage 

Of  childhood,  youthhood,  manhood,  and  old  age : 
A  gentle  sleep  gives  token  when  he  means 

To  doff  his  coat  for  Seemher  equipage  j 
Another  and  another  supervenes. 
And  then  he  is,  I  trow,  no  longer  in  his  teens. 

*  ImprobuB  irreptat  tabulis,  ssevitque  per  omneE, 
CiEde  madens,  &c.  &c. 


JEBOME  "vida's  silkwoem.  527 

XVIII. 
Until  that  period,  it  importeth  much, 

That  no  ungentle  hand,  with  contact  rude,  , 

Visit  the  shelves.     Let  the  delightful  toucli 

Of  Italy's  fau'  daughters — fair  and  good  ! — 

Administer  alone  to  that  young  brood. 
Mart  how  yon  maiden's  breast  with  pity  yearns, 

Tending  her  charge  with  fond  solicitude, — ■ 
Hers  be  the  blessing  she  so  richly  earns ! 
Soon  may  she  see  her  own  wee  brood  of  bonny  bau'ns  ! 

XIX. 
Foliage,  fresh  gather' d  for  immediate  use. 

Be  the  green  pasture  of  thy  silken  sheep, 
For  when  ferments  the  vegetable  juice, 

They  loathe  the  leaves,  and  from  th'  untasted  heap 

With  disappointment  languishingly  creep. 
Hie  to  the  forest,  evening,  noon,  and  morn  ; 

Of  brimming  baskets  quick  succession  keep  ; 
Let  the  green  grove  for  them  be  freely  shorn, 
And  smiling  Plenty  void  her  well-replenished  horn. 

XX. 

Pleasant  the  murmur  of  their  mouths  to  hear, 

While  as  they  ply  the  plentiful  repast. 
The  dainty  leaves  demolish' d,  disappear 

One  after  one.     A  fresh  supply  is  cast — 

That,  like  the  former,  vanisheth  as  fast. 
But,  cautious  of  repletion  (WeU  yclept 

The  fatal  fount  of  sickness),  cease  at  hst ; 

Hing  no  more  food — their  fodder  intercept, 

And  be  it  laid  aside,  and  for  their  supper  kept. 

XXL 

To  gaze  upon  the  dew-drop's  glittering  gem, 

T'  inhale  the  moisture  of  the  morning  air. 
Is  pleasantness  to  us  ; — 'tis  death  to  them. 

Shepherd,  of  dank  humidity  beware. 

Moisture  maun  vitiate  the  freshest  fare  ;* 
Cull  not  the  leaves  at  the  first  hour  of  prime, 

While  yet  the  sun  his  arrows  through  the  air 
Shoots  horizontal.     Tarry  till  he  cUmb 
Half  his  meridian  height :  then  is  thy  harvest-time. 


*  Pabula  semper 
Sicca  legant,  nuU^que  fluant  a«pergine  sylvse. 


528  FATHES  PEOri'S   EBLIQTTES. 

XXII. 
Tlicre  be  two  sisters  of  the  mulberry  race,* 

One  of  complexion  dark  and  olive  hue ; — 
Of  taUer  figure  and  of  fairer  face, 

The  other  wins  and  captivates  the  view, 

And  to  maturity  grows  quicker  too. 
Oft  characters  with  colour  correspond  ; 

Nathless  the  silkworm  neither  wiH  eschew, 
He  is  of  both  immoderately  fond — 
Still  he  doth  dearly  love  the  gently  blooming  blonde. 

XXIII. 
With  milder  juice  and  more  nutritious  milk 

She  feedeth  him,  though  dehcate  and  pale ; 
Nurtured  by  her  he  spins  a  finer  silk. 

And  her  young  sucklings,  vigorous  and  halo, 

Aye  o'er  her  sister's  progeny  prevail. 
Her  paler  charms  more  appetite  beget, 

On  which  the  creepers  greedily  regale  : 
She  bears  the  bell  in  foreign  lands ;  and  yetj 
Our  brown  Italian  maids  prefer  the  dark  brunette.f 

xxrv. 

The  dark  brunette,  more  bountiful  of  leaves, 
With  less  refinement  more  profusion  shews ; 

But  often  such  redundancy  deceives. 

What  though  the  ripen' d  berry  ruddier  glows 
Upon  these  tufted  branches  than  on  those  ? 

Due  is  the  preference  to  the  paler  plant : 

Then  her  to  rear  thy  tender  nurslings  choose, 

Her  to  thy  little  orphans'  wishes  grant, 
Nor  use  the  darker  leaves  unless  the  white  be  scant. 

XXV. 

Ovid  has  told  a  tender  tale  of  Thisb^, 

Who  found  her  lifeless  lover  lying  pale 
TTnder  a  spreading  mulberry.     Let  this  be 

The  merit  and  the  moral  of  that  tale. 

Sweet  is  thy  song,  in  sooth,  love's  nightingale ! 
But  hadst  thou  known  that,  nourish'd  from  that  tree, 

Love's  artisans  would  spin  their  tissue  frail, 
Thou  never  wouldst  of  so  much  misery 
Have  laid  the  scene  beneath  a  spreading  mulberry. 

*  Est  bicolor  moras,  bombyx  vesoetur  utrSque 
Nigra  albensve  fuat,  &c.  &o. 
The  worm  will  always  prefer  to  nibble  the  white  mulberry-tree, 
and  win  quit  the  black  for  it  readily. 

t  Quamvis  Ausouiis  laudetur  nigra  puellis. 


JBEOME  vida's  silkwobm.  529 

XXVI. 

Now  should  a  failure  of  the  mulberry  crop 
Send  famine  to  the  threshold  of  thy  door, 

Do  not  despair :  but,  climbing  to  the  top 
Of  the  tall  elm,  or  kindred  sycamore, 
Toung  budding  germs  with  searching  eye  explore. 

Practise  a  pious  fraud  upon  thy  flock, 

,    With  false  suppUes  and  counterfeited  store ; 

Thus  for  a  while  their  little  stomachs  mock, 
TJutll  thou  canst  provide  of  leares  a  genuine  stock, 

XXVII. 

But  ne'er  a  simple  village  maiden  ask 

To  cUmb  on  trees,* — ^for  her  was  never  meant 
The  rude  exposure  of  such  uncouth  task  ; 

Lest  while  she  tries  the  perilous  ascent, 

On  pure  and  hospitable  thoughts  intent, 
A  wicked  faun,  that  lurks  behind  some  bush. 

Peep  out  with  upward  eye — rude,  insolent ! 

Oh,  vUe  and  desperate  hardihood !     But,  hush ! 

If  or  let  such  matters  move  the  bashful  Muse  to  blush. 

XXVIII. 

The  maiden's  ministry  it  is  to  keep 

Incessant  vigil  o'er  the  silkworm  fold, 
Supply  fresh  fodder  to  the  nibbling  sheep, 

Cleanse  and  remove  the  remnants  of  the  old. 

Guard  against  influence  of  damp  or  cold, 
And  ever  and  anon  coUeot  them  aU 

In  close  divan  :  and  ere  their  food  is  doled, 
Wash  out  vrith  wine  each  stable  and  each  staU, 
lest  foul  disease  the  flock  through  feculence  befall. 

XXIX. 

Changes  will  oft  come  o'er  their  outward  form, 

And  each  transition  needs  thy  anxious  cares  : 
Four  times  they  cast  their  skin.     The  spinner-worm 

Pour  soft  successive  suits  of  velvet  wears  ; 

Nature  each  pHant  envelope  prepares. 
But  how  can  they,  in  previous  clothing  pent. 

Get  riddance  of  that  shaggy  robe  of  theirs  ? 

They  keep  a  three-days'  fast.  When  by  that  Lent 
Grown  lean,  they  doff  with  ease  their  old  accoutrement. 

*  The  good  bishop's  gallantry  is  herein  displayed  to  advantage  i— 

Neo  robora  dura 

'  Ascendat  permitte  in  sylvis  innuba  virgo ; 
Ast  operum  patiens  anus,  et  cui  durior  annis 
Sit  cutis  (ingratue  facihs  jactura  seneotse  !), 

•  Munere  fungatur  tali.  Ne  fort^  qiiis  alt^ 
Egressus  sylvA  satyrorum  e  gente  prooaoi 
Suspiciat,  tenerseque  pudor  notet  ora  pueDse. 


530  FATHEE  PEOrT'S   EELIQTJES. 

Now  are  the  last  important  days  at  hand — 
^he  liquid  gold  -within  its  hving  mine 

Brightens.    Nor  nourishment  they  now  demand. 
Nor  care  for  life  ;  impatient  to  resign 
The  wealth  with  which  diaphanous  they  shine ! 

Eager  they  look  around — imploring  look, 
For  branch  or  bush,  their  tissue  to  entwine  j 

Some  rudimental  threads  they  seek  to  hoot. 
And  dearly  love  to  find  some  hospitable  nook. 

XXXI. 

Anticipate  their  wishes,  gentle  maid  ! 

Hie  to  their  help  ;  the  fleeting  moment  catch. 
Quick  be  the  shelves  with  wicker-work  o'er-laid ; 

Let  osier,  broom,  and  furze,  their  workshop  thatch. 

With  fond  soHcitude  and  blithe  despatch. 
So  may  they  quickly,  mid  the  thicket  dense, 

Find  out  a  spot  their  purposes  to  match ; 
So  may  they  soon  their  industry  commence. 
And  of  the  round  cocoon  plan  the  circumference. 

XXXII.  ' 

Their  hour  is  come.     See  how  the  yellow  flood 

Swells  in  yon  creeping  cylinder  !  how  teems 
Exuberant  the  tide  of  amber  blood ! 

How  the  recondite  gold  transparent  gleams, 

And  how  pellucid  the  bright  fluid  seems ! 
Proud  of  such  pregnancy,  and  duly  skUl'd 

In  Dtedalean  craft,  each  insect  deems 
The  glorious  purposes  of  life  fulfilled. 
If  into  sliining  silk  his  substance  be  distill'd ! 

XXXITI. 
Say,  hast  thou  ever  mark'd  the  clustering  grape 

SwoU'n  to  maturity  with  ripe  produce. 
When  the  imprison'd  pulp  pants  to  escape. 

And  longs  to  joy  "  emancipated"  juice 

In  the  foil  freedom  of  the  bowl  profase  ? 
So  doth  the  silk  that  swells  their  skinny  coat 

Loathe  its  confinement,  panting  to  get  loose ! 
Such  longing  for  rehef  their  looks  denote — 
Soon  in  their  web  they'U  find  a  "  bane  and  antidote." 

XXXIV. 

See !  round  and  round,  in  many  a  mirthful  maze, 
The  wily  workman  weaves  his  golden  gauze  j 

And  while  his  throat  the  twisted  thread  purveys. 
New  lines  with  labyrinthine  labour  draws,  * 

Plying  his  pair  of  operative  jaws. 


JEEOME   TIDa'S    SILKWOEM.  531 

JFrom  morn  to  noon,  from  noon  to  silent  eve,  • 

He  toileth  without  interval  or  pause,* 
TTia  monumental  trophy  to  achieve, 
And  his  sepulchral  sheet  of  silk  resplendent  weave ! 

XXXT. 
Approach,  and  view  thy  artisans  at  wort ; 

At  thy  wee  spinners  take  a  parting  glance  j 
For  soon  each  puny  labourer  will  lurk 

Under  his  silken  canopy's  expanse — 

Tasteful  alcove!  boudoir  of  elegance  ! 
There  will  the  weary  worm  in  peace  repose, 

And  languid  lethargy  his  limbs  entrance ; 
There  his  career  of  usefulness  will  close  ; 
Who. would  not  live  the  life  and  die  the  death  of  those  If 

XXXVI. 

Mostly  they  spin  their  solitary  shroud 

Single,  apart,  like  ancient  anchoret  j 
Tet  oft  a  loving  pair  wiU,J  if  allow' d. 

In  the  same  sepulchre  of  silk  well  met, 

Nestle  Kke  Bomeo  and  Juliet. 
!From  such  communing  be  they  not  debarred, 

Mindful  of  her  who  hallow'd  Paraclet ;  ' 

Even  in  their  silken  cenotaph  'twere  hard 
To  part  a  Heloise  from  her  loved  Abelaed. 

XXXVII. 

The  task  is  done,  the  wort  is  now  complete ; 

A  stilly  silence  reigns  throughout  the  room ! 
Sleep  on,  blest  beings !  be  your  slumbers  sweet, 

Aid  calmly  rest  within  your  golden  tomb — 

Rest,  till  restored  to  renovated  bloom. 
Bursting  the  trammels  of  that  dark  sojourn, 

Porth  ye  shall  issue,  and  rejoiced,  resume, 
A  glorified  appearance,  and  return 
To  life  a  winged  thing  from  monumental  urn. 

xxxvrii. 

Pain  would  I  pause,  and  of  my  tuneftd  text 
Beserve  the  remnant  for  a  fitter  time ; 

Another  song  remains.    The  summit  next 
Of  double-peat'd  Parnassus  when  I  climb, 
Grant  me,  ye  gods !  the  radiant  wings  of  rhyme ! 

*  Quejy,  without  paws  ? — P.  Devil. 

t  MiUe  legunt  releguntque  vias,  atque  orbibus  orbes 

Agglomerant,  donee  coeco  se  carcere  condant 

Sponte  Bu^.  Tanta  est  edendi  gloria  fill ! 
J  Quin  et  nonnuUse  paribus  oommunia  curia 

Associant  opera,  et  nebulft  clauduntur  e&dem- 

M  M  2 


532  TATHEE  PBOIJT'S   EELIQUES. 

Thus  may  I  bear  me  up  tli'  adrenturouB  road 

That  winds  aloft — an  argument  sublime ! 
But  of  didactic  poems  'tis  the  mode, 
No  canto  should  conclude  without  an  episode. 

XXXIX. 

Ventts  it  was  who  first  invented  SHE — 
'  Ldten  had  long,  by  Ceebs  patronised, 

SuppUed  Olympus :  ladies  of  that  ilk 
No  better  sort  of  clothing  had  devised — 
Linen  alone  their  garde  de  robe  comprised. 
Hence  at  her  cambric  loom  the  "  suitors"  found 

PBNEMpfe,  whom  hath  immortalised 
The  blind  man  eloquent :  nor  leas  renown'd 
Were  "  Troy's  proud  dames,"  whose  robes  of  linen  "  swept  tbe 
ground." 

XL. 
Thus  the  first  female  fashion  was  for  flax ; 
A  linen  tunic  was  the  garb  that  graced 
Exclusively  the  primitive  "  Almack's." 
Simplicity's  costume !  too  soon  effaced 
By  vain  inventions  of  more  modern  taste. 
Then  was  the  reign  of  modesty  and  sense. 

Fair  ones  were  not,  I  ween,  more  prude  and  chaste, 
Girt  in  hoop-petticoats'  circumference 
Or  stays — Honi  soi  the  rogue  qui  mal  y  pense. 

XLI: 

Wool.,  by  MnrEETA  manufactured,  met 

With  bKthe  encouragement  and  brisk  demand  j 
Her  loom  by  constant  buyers  was  beset, 

"  Orders  from  foreign  nouses"  kept  her  hand 

Busy  supplying  many  a  distant  land. 
She  was  of  woollen  stuSs  the  sole  provider, 

Till  some  were  introduced  by  contraband : 
A  female  called  Aeaohk^  thus  defied  her, 
But  soon  gave  up  the  trade,  being  turned  into  a  spider. 

XLII. 
Thus  a  complete  monopoly  in  wool, 

"  Almost  amounting  to  a  prohibitibn," 
Enabled  her  to  satisfy  in  full 

The  darling  object  of  her  life's  ambition. 

And  gratify  her  spiteful  disposition. 
Ventts*  she  had  determined  should  not  be 

Snffer'd  to  purchase  stuffs  on  no  condition/ 
While  every  naked  Naiad  nymph  was  free 
To  buy  her  serge,  moreen,  and  wooUen  drappeiie. 

•  Tantilm  nuda  Venus  moerebat  muneris  expers 
Egregiam  ob  formam  textrici  invisa  Minerrs. 


^ 


The  Manlarins  roliilig  Vmus . 


JEEOME  tida's  silkwoem.  533 

XLIII. 
Albeit  "  when  unadorned  adorned  the  most," 

The  goddess  could  not  brook  to  be  outwitted 
How  could  she  bear  her  rival's  bitter  boast, 

If  to  this  taunt  she  quietly  submitted ! 

Olymptjs  (robeless  as  she  was^  she  quitted, 
Fully  determined  to  bring  back  as  fine  a 

Dress  as  was  ever  woven,  spun,  or  knitted ; 
Europe  she  searched,  consulted  the  Czabina, 
And,  taking  good  adyioe,  cross'd  o'er  "  the  waU"  to  Cnnri, 
XLIV. 
Long  before  Europeans,  the  Chinese 

Possess'd  the  compass,  silkworms,-  and  gunpowder, 
And  types,  and  tea,  and  other  rarities. 

China  (with  gifts  since  Nature  hath  endowed  her) 

Is  proud !  what  land  hath  reason  to  be  prouder  ? 
Her  let  the  duU  "  Barbarian  Eye"  respect, 

And  be  her  privileges  all!  allowed  her ; 
She  is  the  wrDow  (please  to  recollect) 
Of  OHE  the  Deluge  drownid,  PBiMOEqjiAi.  Intellect  I 
XLV. 
The  good  inhabitants  of  PEEnf,  when 

They  saw  the  dame  in  downright  dishabille, 
Were  shock' d.,    Such  sight  was  far  beyond  the  ken 

Of  their  Comivousr  notions.    EuU  of  zeal 

To  guard  the  morals  of  the  commonweal. 
They  straight  deputed  Syik,  a  mandarin, 

Humbly  before  the  visitant  to  kneel 
With  downcast  eyd,  and  offer  Beauty's  ijueen 
A  rich  resplendent  robe  of,  gorgeous  bombazin, 

;  • :     ^  ■■  ^vi.: 

Venus  received  the.  vesture  nothing  loath. 

And  much  its  gloss,  its  softness  much  adinired, 
Arid  praised  that  specrmeu  of  foreign  growth, 
So  splendid,  and  so  cheaply  too  acquired ! 
Quick  in  the  robe  her  graceful  limbs  attired,        ' 
She  seeks  a  mirror^there  delighted  dalhes ; 

So  rich  a  dress  was  all  could  be  desired., 
How  she  rejoiced  to  disappoint  the  malice 
Of  her  unfeeling  foe,  the  vile,  viadiotive  Pallas  !* 
XLVII. 
But  while  she  praised  the  gift  and  thank'd  the  giver 

Of  spitmer-worms  she  sued  forra  supply.  v    ■ 

Forthwith  tfie  good  Chinese  fiU'd  Cupid's  quiver 
With'  the  cocoons  in  which  each  worm  doth  lie 
Snug,  uritE  changed  into  a  butterfly. 
The  light  cocoons  wild  Cupid  shower'd  6'er  Greece, 

And  o'er  the  isles,  and  over  Italy,_        ■  ' 

Into  the  lap  of  industry  and  peace  f   '     .    ,  ■;    ; 
And  the  glad  nations  haU'd  the  long-sought  "  Golden  Eleece."f 
•  Settulit  insignes  tunicas,  nihil  indiga  lanse. 
+  Cfratiam  opus  Ausoniis  dum  volvunt  fila  puellis. 


534  I'ATHEE   PEOTJT'S   EEMQrES. 


MOIEBN  lATIlf  POETS. 

Chap.  II. — Casimie  Sahbiewski,  S.  Saj^nazae,  Jeeome 

>  Peacastoe. 

"  In  omnibus  requiem  quseaivi  et  non  inveni  nisi  in  noo&insi  et  in 
fiookms,"  (quod  Teutonic^  sonat  in  angulis  et  libellis). — Thomas  A 
Kempis.     See  Elzevir  edition  of  Imitat.  Xti.,  p.  247,  m  vitd, 

"  I  beg  to  lay  particular  emphasis 
On  this  remark  of  Thomas  h,  Kempis'S."^-PBOTrT. 

Surely  so  gifted  a  mdn  as  the  late  incumbent  of  Water-  ^^ 
grasshill  must  have  felt  himself  miserably  misplaced  in  that 
dull  and  dreary  district.  "We  are  informed  by  Archdeacon 
Paley,  in  his  Natural  Theology,  that  to  meet  with  a  stone  on 
a  barren  heath  is  a  common  incident,  whereas  to  find  a 
chronometer  ia  such  an  out-of-the-way  place  would  imme- 
diately suggest  a  bright  chain  of  argument,  and  lots  of  con- 
jectural cogitation.  What  would  Paley  have  said,  had  he 
stumbled  on  the  curiously  wrought  pericranium  of  Front  in 
his  rambles  over  the  bogs  and  potato-fields  of  the  parish, 
met  him  on  "  bottle  hill,"  or  found  him  on  the  briak  of  the 
"  brook  that  flows  fast  by  the"  castle  of  Blarney  ?  There 
would  seem  to  be  something  chronologically  wrong  in  the 
disposal  of  so  much  antique  wisdom  on  a  flimsy  and  a 
frivolous  age.  Properly  speaking,  Prout  should  have  lived 
at  another  epoch  of^the  world  for  his  own  sake,  not  for  ours. 
With  a  mind  habitually  recurring  to  standard  models  of 
everlasting  elegance,  he  must  have  had  the  disagreeable  con- 
sciousness of  being  here  on  earth  an  incarnate  anachronism, 
an  Etruscan  vase  surrounded  by  vulgar  crockery. 

In  "  happier  hours"  and  a  happier  climate,  Prout  would 
have  developed  in  a  grander  form.  Had  he=  flourished 
with  ViDA  at  the  court  of  the  Medici,  Hke  him  he  would 
have  worn  a  mitre,  and  like  him  would  have  shed  lustre  on 
"his  order,"  instead  of  deriving /row  it,  as  some  do,  impor- 
tance in  society.  Had  he  lived  at  Madrid  in  the  days  of 
Perditiaiid  and  Isabella,  he  would  have  been  (under  Cardinal 
Ximenes)  chief  editor  of  the  great  Complutensian  Polyglott ; 
and  we  can  fancy  him  at  the  court  of  Louis  XIV.,  indulging 
at  once  his  literary  and  piscatorial  propensities  by  coeditiog 
the  classics  in  usum  Delphini, 


MOBEEN   LAa?IlT   POETS.  535 

In  the  wilderness  of  "Watergrasshill  lie  was  a  mere  <puvvi 
M  igri/Lifi,  and  the  exemplary  old  pastor's  resemblance  to  the 
Baptist  was  further  visible  in  his  peculiarity  of  diet ;  for 
small  do  we  deem  the  difference  between  a  dried  locust  and 
a  red  herring. 

When  we  say  he  was  tmappreciated  in  Ireland  during  his 
lifetime,  we  make  one  exception  in  favour  of  a  citizen  of 
Cork,  the  Eoscoe  of  that  seaport,  James  Eoche.  It  was 
said  of  Eoscoe  by  Wiishiagton  Irving,  that,  like  Pompey's 
piUar  on  the  shore  of  Alexandria,  he  rose  above  the  com- 
mercial vulgarities  of  Liverpool,  and  stood  forth  to  the  eye 
of  the  stranger  a  conspicuous  but  solitary  specimen  of  an- 
tique and.  classic  grandeur.  Such  is  the  eminent  scholar  to 
whom  we  allude,  and  of  whom  Cork  may  be  justly  proud. 

He  detected  the  merits  of  the  Padre,  and  urged  them  on 
folks  until  the  aged  Chryses,  chaplain  of  Apollo,  was  not 
more  popular  in  the  camp  before  Troy  than  Pather  Prout 
among  the  reading  public.  » 

Ei'0'  aXXoi  fiiv  iravTtQ  c'Trtv^tJixriaav  A%aiot. 

AIAEI20AI  ©•  lEPHA  /cat  AFAAA  AEX0AI  AHOINA.     A'  23. 

OLIVEE  YOEKE. 


Watergrasshill,  Sept.  1826. 
St.  Gregory  of  Tours,  in  his  tract  Be  Olorid  Mariyrum, 
lib.  i.  cap.  95,  talks  of  seven  youths,  who,  flying  to  a  Inoun- 
tain-cave  from  the  persecution  that  raged  in  Ephesus,  fell 
there  into  a  miracidous  slumber ;  whence  awaking,  after  two 
centuries  of  balmy  rest,  they  walked  abroad,  and  were 
startled  at  the  sight  of  a  cross  triumphantly  emblazoned 
over  the  gates  of  the  city.  StiU  greater  was  their  surprise 
when  a  baker,  to  whom  they  tendered  what  they  considered 
the  current  coin  of  the  empire,  eyed  them  suspiciously, 
asking  where  they  had  dug  up  that  old  medal  of  the  pagan 
persecutor  Decius,  and  hinting,  that  m  the  new  Theodosian 
code  there  were  certaiu  laws  relative  to  treasure  trove,  which 
might  possibly  concern  them.  I  fear  that  my'  appearance 
in  the  literary  market  with  specimens  of  antiquated  and  ex- 
ploded composition,  a  coinage  of  the  human  braiu  long  since 
gone  out  of  circulation,  may  subject  me  to  the  incon- 


536  FATHEB  PEOn'S   EELIQUES. 

veniences  experienced  by  the  seven  sleepers,  and  to  a  similar 
rebuke  from  the  critical  fraternity.  But,  unprovided  with 
the  specie  that  forms  the  present  circulating  medium,  I  must 
needs  obtrude  on  the  monetary  system  of  the  day  some 
rusty  old  denarii  and  sestertia. 

I  trust,  however,  that  comparing  my  operations  in  this 
matter  to  the  proceedings  recorded  in  the  legend  of  those 
"  sleepers,"  the  snatches  of  Latin  poetry  I  produce  may  not 
receive  the  equivocal  compliment  of  the  eclogue — viz  : 

"  Tale  tuvun  carmen  nobis,  divine  poeta, 
Quale  sopor  !" 

it  being  my  assiduous  care  to  keep  my  readers  awake  during 
the  progress  of  each  paper,  preferring  to  wear  occasionally 
the  cap  and  bells  of  innocent  PoUy,  rather  than  the  cotton 
nightcap  of  solemn  Dulness. 

Casimir  Sarbiewski,  in  his  day  hailed  by  all  Europe  as  the 
Horace  of  Poland  (which  I  learn  from  the  Cambridge 
pocket- edition  of  his  poems  now  before  me),  belonged  to 
one  of  the  noblest  houses  of  the  kingdom,  and  was  born  in 
1596.  Initiated  among  the  Jesuits  at  their  college  of  WHna, 
he  rose  to  eminence  in  that  fraternity,  and  was  subsequently 
induced  by  Count  Nicolai  to  accompany  him  on  a  tour  of 
classic  enjoyment  to  Italy.  They  were  waylaid  and  robbed 
in  the  mountains  of  the  Tyrol ;  for,  alas !  our  Latin  poet, 
not  having  written  in  a  vulgar  tongue,  could  not,  like  Ariosto, 
overawe  the  brigands  by  reveahng  his  name,  and  claiming 
the  safeg^rd  of  the  Muse.  Nicolai  never  recovered  from 
the  effects  of  the  adventure,  and  died  on  his  arrival  at  Eome ; 
but  Sarbiewski  had  within  him  that  which  consoled  the  ship- 
vsrecked  Simonides,  and  being  enabled  to  exclaim  "  Omnia 
mea  meeum  porta,"  was  but  Httle  affected  by  his  disaster. 
We  find  hirn  at  Eome,  studying  archeology  and  numismatics 
under  the  illustrious  Donate,  and  soon  attracting,  by  the 
sweetness  of  his  poetic  talent,  the  notice  of  a  brother  bard. 
Pope  Urban  VIII.  (Barberini).  By  orders  of  the  pontiff, 
he  undertook  the  revision  of  the  hymns  of  the  Eoman  bre- 
viary ;  and  to  him  may  be  attributed  some  of  the  pathetic 
and  classic  touches  occasionally  perceptible  among  the  rude 
canticles  of  our  liturgy. 

Sarbiewski  made  friends  among  the  dignitaries  of  the 


MODEEB"  LATIN   POETS. 


637 


Eoman  purple  and  the  nobles  of  Italy :  but  the  family  of 
Pope  UrbaUj  distinguished  from  the  earHest  period  in  arts 
and  arms,  enjoyed  most  the  poet's  society.  To  his  pontifical 
Maecenas  he  had  addressed  many  of  his  odes,  and  I  cull 
from  the  number  the  following  graceful  specimen,  because 
of  its  melodious  cadences  and  exquisite  Latinity : 

Odarum,  Lib.  3,  Ode  XT. 

Ad  Apes  Babbeeinas. 

Melleum  venisse  Sceculum, 


Gives  Hymetti,  gratus  Atticse  lepos, 
Virginise  volucres, 
Flav»que  veriB  filisa  I 

Fures  rosarum,  turba  prsedatrix  thymi, 
Nectaris  artifices^ 
Bonseque  ruiis  hospitae  1 


LalDoriosiB  quid  jurat  volatibua 
Rus  et  agroB  gravidis 
Ferambulare  cruribus, 

Si  Babbebtno  delicata  principe 
Ssecula  melle  fluant, 
Farata  vobis  stecula  1 


To  the  Bees  {armorial  bearings  of  the  Barberini  family)^  on  Urban  the 
Eighties  elevation  to  the  Pontificate, 

Gasimik  Sabbiewski. 


Citizens  of  Mount  HynaettuB, 

Attic  labourers  who  toil, 
Never  ceasing  till  ye  get  us 

Winter  store  of  honeyed  spoil  I 

Nectar  ye  with  sweets  and  odours, 

Hebea  of  the  hive,  compose. 
Flora's  privileged  marauders, 

Chartered  pirates  of  the  rose  I 

Gipsey  tribe,  gay,  wild,  and  vagrant. 

Winged  poachers  of  the  dawn, 
Sporting  o'er  each  meadow  fragraut| 

Thieving  it  on  every  lawn  I 

Every  plant  and  flower  ye  touch  on, 

Wears,  I  ween,  a  fresher  grace ; 
For  ye  form  the  proud  escutcheon 

Of  the  Barberini  race. 

Emblem  bright,  which  to  embroider. 

While  her  knight  was  far  away, 
Many  a  maiden  hath  employed  her 

Fairy  fiugers  night  and  day  I 

Bees,  though  pleased  your  flight  I  gaze  on,  Myrtle  groves  are  fast  distilling 

In  the  garden  or  the  field,  Honey;  honeyed  falls  the  dew. 

Brighter  hues  your  wings  emblazon  Ancient  prophecies  fulfilling 

On  the  Barberini  shield !  A  millennium  for  you  I 


Of  that  race  a  pontifi'  reigneth, 
Sovereign  of  imperial  Rome ; 

Lo  I  th'  armorial  bee  obtaineth 
For  its  hive  St.  Peter's  dome  1 

Hitherto  a  rose's  chalice 
Held  thee,  winged  artisan! 

But  thou  fillest  now  the  palace 
Of  the  gorgeous  Vatican. 

And  an  era  now  commences. 
By  a  friendly  genius  planned ; 

Princely  bee.  Ubgan  dispenses 
Honeyed  days  throughout  the  land. 

Seek  no  more  with  tuneful  hamming 
Where  the  juicy  floweret  grows. 

Halcyon  daysfor  you  are  coming- 
Bays  of  plenty  and  repose ! 

Best  ye,  workmen  blithe  and  bonnle ; 

Be  no  more  the  cowslip  suck'd ; 
Honeyed  flows  the  Tiber,  honey 

Fills  each  Roman  aqueduct. 


It  is  related  in  the  natural  history  of  the  stork,  by  the 
learned  Bo^rlinckius,  that  some  Polish  amateur  of  feathered 
animals  having  one  in  his  possession,  was  induced  to  try 


538  TATHEE  FBOITT'S   EEIIQUES. 

an  experiment  as  to  its  migratoiy  propensities.  He  accord- 
ingly set  it  free,  having  previously  attached  to  its  neck  a  tin 
collar,  or  label,  on  which  was  inscribed  a  poetical  indication 
for  the  use  of  those  whom  it  might  visit,  viz. : 

«  SMC  CICONIA, 
EX  POIONIA." 

The  liberated  stork  flew  o'er  the  Carpathian  mountains, 
across  Tartary ;  and  having  performed  the  "  overland  jour- 
ney to  India,"  was  caught  by  some  Jesuit  missionaries  on 
the  coast  of  Malabar.  The  learned  fathers,  with  the  saga- 
city of  their  order,  easily  understood  the  motive  which  had 
dictated  that  inscription ;  they  therefore  substituted  for  the 
tin  label,  one  of  gold,  and  the  carrier-stork  was  subse- 
quently recaptured  in  Poland,  when  the  lines  were  found 
^tered  thus : 

"  IBDIA  CITM  BONIS, 
AXITEM  EEMITTIT  POLOKIS." 

Such  appears  to  have  been  the  generous  conduct  of  Urban 
towards  Sarbiewski.  On  his  departure  for  his  native  land, 
he  loaded  him  with  presents ;  and  some  biographers  make 
especial  mention  of  a  ponderous  gold  medal,  valued  at  one 
hundred  sequins,  which  the  holy  father  bestowed  on  the 
child  of  song. 

On  his  return  to  WUna,  appointed  professor  of  rhetoric 
in  the  society's  college,  he  for  several  years  poured  forth  the 
sunshine  of  his  genius  on  the  heads  of  his  delighted  compa- 
triots. While  he  taught  the  young  idea  how  to  shoot,  he 
was  not  unmindful  of  giving  a  patriotic  direction  to  the 
studious  exercises  over  which  it  was  his  pleasing  duty  to 
preside ;  and  it  is  probably  about  this  period  that  he  com- 
posed many  of  those  inspiriting  war-songs  which  crowd  the 
pages  of  his  book,  and  bear  evidence  of  his  pride  in  the 
military '  glories  of  his  countrymen.  I  lay  the  following 
before  my  readers,  in  the  full  confidence  of  their  being  on 
its  perusal  impressed  with  the  vigour  of  the  poet's  mind. 
The  victory  it  commemorates  was  of  immense  importance 
to  Europe  at  that  period,  the  young  sultan,  Osman  II., 
having  advanced  to  the  frontiers  of  Christendom  with  an 
army  of  four  hundred  thousand  men ;  and  were  it  not  for  the 
prowess  of  Poland,  placed  as  it  were  by  Providence  at  the 


MOBEBN   LATIN  POETS. 


539 


post  of  peril,  and  shielding  the  whole  family  of  civilised 
nations  irom  the  inroads  of  barbaric  strength,  the  Turk 
would  infallibly  have  overrun  our  fairest  provinces,  and 
spread  desolation  throughout  the  whole  western  continent. 


Ode  IV.,  Lib.  4. 


Ode  lY.,  Book  4. 


In  Folonorum  ceUirem  de  Osmano  T^irca-  Ode  on  tfie  signal  Defeat  of  the  Sultan  Oa- 
rum  Xmpm-atore  Victoriam,  a.d.  mdcxxi.  man,  hy  the  Army  of  Poland  and  Aer  Alliea, 
S^temhris  Idihis.  ■  September  1621. 


Casimieus  Saebievius,  S.  J. 

Dives  Galesus,  fertilis  accola, 
Gal^sus  Istri,  dum  sua  Bacicia 
Fatigat  in  campis  aratra, 
£t  galeas  clypeosque  passlnij  ao 


Magnaorum  acervds  eruit  ossium ; 

Vergente  serum  sole  sub  hesperum. 
Fessus  resedisse^  et  solutos 
NoQ  Bolito  tenuisse  cantu 


Fertur  juvencos :  "  Carpite  dum  licet, 
Dum  tuta  votis  otia ;  carpite 

Oblita  jam  vobis  vireta. 

Emeriti,  mea  cura^tauri  I 


Victor  Polonus  dum  posits  super 
Respirat  hastS,,  sic  etiam  vigil 

Ssevusque.    Proh!  quautis,  Polone! 

Moldavici  tegis  arva  campi 


Thracum  ruinis !  quas  ego  Bistonnm 
Hie  cerno  strages !  quanta  per  avios 
Disjecta  late  scuta  colles  I 
Qu8B  Geticis  vacua  arma  trunciB ! 


Hftc  acer  ibat  Sarmata  CBhracibua 
Oaptivus  olim  nam  memini  puer), 
Hie  sere  squalentes  et  auro 
Goncanus  ezpUcuit  catervas. 


Heu  quanta  vidl  prselia  cum  ferox 
Bigeret  hastis  campus,  et  borridi 
Collata  tempestaa  Gradivi 
Ambiguis  fluitaret  armls. 


Suspensa  paullum  substitit  alltift 
Procella  ferri,  donee  ahenea 
Hinc  inde  nubes  Bulphurato 
Flurima  detonulsset  igni. 


Casiuib  Sabbiewsei, 

As  slow  the  plough  the  oxen  piled. 
Close  by  the  Danube's  rolling  tide. 
With  old  Galeski  for  their  guide— ^ 

The  Dacian  farmer— 
His  eye  amid  the  furrows  spied 

Men's  bones  and  armour. 

The  air  was  calm,  the  sun  was  low* 
Calm  was  the  mighty  river's  flow, 
And  silently.,  with  footsteps  slow. 

Laboured  the  yoke ; 
When  fervently,  with  patriot  glow, 

The  veteran  spoke : 

"  Halt  ye,  my  oxen  I    Pause  we  here 
Where  valour's  vestiges  appear, 
And  Islaam's  relics  far  and  near 

Lurk  in  the  soil ; 
While  Poland  on  victorious  spear 

Kests  from  her  toil. 

Aye  I  well  she  may  triumphant  rest, 
Adorn  with  glory's  plume  her  crest,      ' 
And  wear  of  victoiy  the  vest. 

Elate  and  flushed : 
Oft  was  the  Paynim'a  pride  repressed— 

Hebe  it  was  crushed  I 

Here  the  tremendous  deed  was  done, 
Here  the  transcendant  trophy  won, 
Where  fragments  lie  of  sword  and  gun. 

And  lance  and  shield. 
And  Turkey's  giant  skeleton 

Cumbers  the  field  1 

Heavens !  I  remember  well  that  day, 
Of  warrior  men  the  proud  display. 
Of  bras?  and  steel  the  dread  array — 

Van,  flank,  and  rear ; 
How  my  young  heart  the  chargei-'s  neigh 

Throbbed  high  to  hear  1 

How  gallantly  our  lancers  stood, 
Of  bristling  spears  an  iron  wood, 
Pi'aught  with  a  desperate  hardihood 

That  naiight  could  daunt. 
And  burning  for  the  bloody  feud. 

Fierce,  grim,  and  gaunt  I 

Then  rose  the  deadly  din  of  fight;' 

Then  shouting  charged,  with  all  his  migh^ 

Of  Wilna  each  Teutonic  knight, 

And  of  St.  John's, 
While  flashing  out  from  yonder  height 

Thundered  the  bronze  „ 


540 


FATHER  PBOUT'S    EELIQTJES. 


Turn  vero  Bignis  signa,  viris  viri, 
Dextrseque  dextris,  et  pedibus  pedes, 

£t  tela  respondere  telis 

Et  clypels  clypei  rotundi. 


Non  tanta  campos  grandine  verberat 
Nivalis  Arctos ;  non  fragor  Alpium 
Tantns  renitentes  ab  imo 
Gum  Tiolens  agit  Auster  omoB. 


Hinc  quantua,  atque  Iiinc  impetus  8ereo 
DiffuBus  imbri  I    MiBcet  opus  frequenSj 
Furorque,  virtusque,  et  perenni 
Immorltur  brevis  ira  famee. 


Diii  supremam  nutat  in  aleam 

FoTtuna  belli.    Statnumerosior 
Hinc  Beesus :  hinc  contra  Folonas 
Fxiguus  metuenduB  alis. 


Sed  quid  Cydonea,  ant  pavidi  Dahee, 
MoUesque  campo  cedere  Concani; 
Quid  Seres,  aversoque  pugnax 
Farthus  equo,  Cilicumque  turmee. 


Contra  sequacis  pectora  Sannatea 
Fossent  fugaces  ?    Hinc  rnit  impiger 

PoLONUS,  illinc  Lithdandb  ; 

Quale  duplex  ruit  axe  fulmea 


Pol  I  quam  tremendus  fulminat  seneo 
Borussus  igni !  non  ego  Livonum 
Pugnas  et  inconsulta  vltse 
Traosierim  tua  Busbe  signa  t 


Vobis  fugaces  vidi  ego  Bistonnm 
Errare  lunas,  Bignaque  barbaris 

Direpta  vexillis  et  actam 

Retro  equitum  peditmuque  nnbem. 


Virtute  pngnant  non  numero  viri, 
Et  una  sylvam  siepius  eruit 
Bipennis,  et  paucee  sequuntur 
InnumeraB  aquilee  columbas. 


Hea  quae  jacentnm  strata  cadavera, 
Qnalemque  vobis  ^donii  fugft, 
Campum  retexfirel     Hie  Polonam 
Mordet  adbuc  Otobiannus  hastam. 


Dire  was  the  struggle  in  the  van, 
Fiercely  ^e  grappled  nian  with  mailf 
Till  soon  the  Faynim  cbiels  began 

For  breath  to  gasp  ; 
"When  Warsaw  folded  Ispahan 

In  deadly  grasp. 

So  might  a  tempest  grasp  a  pine, 

Tall  giant  of  the  Apennine, 

Whose  rankling  roots  deep  undermine 

The  mountain's  base : 
Fitting  antagonists  to  twine 

In  stern  embrace. 

Loud  rung  on  helm,  and  coat  of  mail, 
Of  musketry  the  rattling  hail ; 
Of  wounded  men  loud  rose  the  wail 

In  dismal  rout ; 
And  now  alternate  would  prevail 

The  victor's  shout. 

Long  time  amid  the  vapours  dense 
The  fire  of  battle  raged  intense. 
While  ViOTOBT  held  in  suspense 

The  scales  on  high : 
But  Poland  in  her  faith's  defence 

Maun  do  or  die  I 

Rash  was  the  hope,  and  poor  the  chance^ 
Of  blunting  that  victorious  lance ; 
Though  Turkey  from  her  broad  expanse 

Brought  all  her  sons, 
Swelling  with  tenfold  aiTogance, 

Hell's  myrmidons  I 

Stout  was  each  Cossack  heart  and  hand, 
Brave  was  our  Lithuanian  band, 
But  Gallantry's  own  native  land 

Sent  forth  the  Poles; 
And  Valour's  flame  shone  nobly  fanned 

In  patriot  souls. 

Large  be  our  alUes'  meed  of  fame  I 

Rude  Russia  to  the  rescue  came, 

From  land  of  frosty  with  brand  of  flame— 

A  glorious  horde; 
Huge  havoc  here  these  hones  proclaim. 

Done  by  her  sword. 

Pale  and  aghast  the  crescent  fled, 
Joyful  we  clove  each  turbanned  head. 
Heaping  with  holocausts  of  dead 

The  foeman's  camp : 
Loud  echoed  o'er  their  gory  bed 

Our  horsemen's  tramp. 

A  hundred  trees  one  hatchet  hews ; 
A  hundred  doves  one  ^awk  pursnes; 
One  Polish  gauntlet  so  can  bruise 

Their  miscreant  clay ; 
As  well  the  kaliph  kens  who  rues 

That  fatal  day. 

What  though,  to  meet  the  tug  of  war, 
Osman  had  gathered  from  afar 
Arab,  and  Sheik,  and  Hospodar, 

And  Copt,  and  Gufibre, 
Quick  yielded  Pagan  scimitar 

To  Christian  sabre. 


MODBEN  LATIN   POETS. 


541 


Hie  fuBus  .^mon,  hie  Arabum  manus 
Confixa  telia ;  hlo  Caracas  jacet 
Conopeis  subter  Lecborum, 
INon  bene  poUicitus  minaci 


Coenam  tyranno.    Spes  nimias  DeuB 
Plerumque  foedos  ducit  ad  exitus, 
Ridetque  gaudentem  Buperbum 
Immodicis  dare  vela  votis ; 


Sic  forsan  olim  deztra  Polonica 

Cruore  inunget  Uttora  BoBpbori 

Damnata  ;  nee  ponet  secures 

Donee  erunt  Batiiresruia&." 


Quo  me  canentem  digna  trahunt  equiB 
Non  anna  tauris  ?    Sistite,  barbarse  I 
Non  bsec  inurband  Camocnse 
Bella  decet  memorare  boxo. 


Majore  quondam  quee  recinent  tubft 
Serl  nepotes :  et  mea  jam  suis 
Aratra  cum  bubuB  reverti 
PrceCipiti  monet  axe  vesper," 


Here  could  the  Turkman  turn  and  trace 
The  slaughter-trsicks,  here  slowly  pace 
The  £eld  of  downfal  and  diBgrace, 

Where  men  and  horse, 
Thick  strewn,  encumbered  all  the  place 

With  frequent  corse. 

Well  might  his  haughty  soul  repent 
That  rash  and  guilty  armament; 
Weep  for  the  blood  of  nations  spent, 

HiB  ruined  host ; 
His  empty  arrogance  lament, 

And  bitter  boast. 

Sorrow,  derision,  scorn,  and  hate, 
Upon  the  proud  one's  footsteps  wait ; 
Both  in  the  field  and  in  the  gate 

Accursed,  abhorred ; 
And  be  his  halls  made  desolate 

With  fire  and  sword  I" 

Such  was  the  tale  Galeski  told, 
Calm  as  the  mighty  Danube  rolled; 
And  well  I  ween  that  farmer  old, 

Who  held  a  plough, 
Had  fought  that  day  a  warrior  bold 

With  helmfed  brow. 

But  now  upon  the  glorious  stream 
The  sun  fllung  out  his  parting  beam, 
The  soldier-swain  unyoked  his  team, 

Yet  still  he  chaunted  i 
The  live-long  eve ;— and  glory's  dream 

His  pillow  haunted. 


So  exasperated,  we  may  add,  were  the  Janissaries  at  the 
untoward  result  of  the  campaign,  that  they  murdered  the 
young  sultan  on  his  return  to  C.  P.  He  was  the  sixteenth 
leader  of  the  faithful,  counting  from  Mahomet,  but  the  first 
whose  life  terminated  in  that  tragical  manner ;  albeit  such 
an  event  has  since  been  of  common  occurrence  on  the  banks 
of  the  Bosphorus. 

In  the  year  1636  a  ceremony  took  place  at  the  university 
of  Wilna.  The  degree  of  "  doctor"  was,  with  unusual  pomp, 
conferrred  on  the  poet,  in  presence  of  King  "Wladislas  and 
the  highest  personages  of  the  realm;  his  royal  admirer  took 
*  the  ring  from  his  own  jBiiger,  and  begged  it  might  be  used 
in  the  ceremony  of  wedding  the  learned  bachelor  to  his 
doctorial  dignity.  That  ring  is  still  preserved  at  "Wilna, 
and  is  used  to  the  present  day  in  conferring  the  doctorate 
per  annulum  on  the  students  of  the  university. 

The  patronage  of  royalty  was  now  secured  to  Sarbiewski 
and  Wladislas  insisted  on  his  accompanying  him  even  in  his 
hunting  excursions.  In  an  epistle  of  Pliny  to  Tacitus,  the 
proconsul  invites  the  historian  to  partake  of  the  pleasures  of 


542  FATHEE  peoift's  eeliq.ttes. 

the  chase ;  and  tells  him,  that  durmg  his  visit  to  the  moors  he 
may  stUl  prosecute  his  favourite  studies :  "  Experies 
Palladem  non  minus  libenter  venari  in  jnontihus  quam  Dia- 
nam."  I  find  mentioned,  in  the  catalogue  of  his  works, 
poems  entitled  Silviludia,  referriag  to  the  woodland  achieve- 
ments of  the  northern  Nimrod.  He  also  appears  to  have 
written  an  epic  poem,  on  the  exploits  of  some  ancient  Polish 
monarch  {Lechiados,  lib.  xii.)  ;  but  it  may  be  classed  with 
the  King  Arthur  of  Sir  Eichard  Blackmore,  the  Colombiad 
of  Joshua  Barlow,  the  Charlemagne  of  Lucien,  Buonaparte, 
and  many  other  modern  epics  too  tedious  to  mention.  His 
last  occupation  was  writing  a  commentary  on  St.  Thomas 
Aquinas,  before  the  termiuation  of  which  enterprise  he  died, 
A.D.  1640.  I  intend  writiug  one  myself,  if  I  live  long 
enough. 

Turn  we  now  to  Actius  Sincerus  d  Sto.  Nazaro,  vulgarly 
called  (for  shortness)  Sannazar.  The  township  forming  the 
family  inheritance  is  situated  between  the  Po  and  the  Tesi- 
no,  but  he  himself  was  bom  at  the  foot  of  Mount  Vesuvius, 
in  1458. 

Like  Dante,  Tasso,  and  Petrarch,  in  youth  he  visited 
Prance,  where  he  wrote  a  book — known  by  the  same  name 
as  the  work  of  our  own  euphuist,  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  being 
entitled  Arcadia,  amazingly  popular  in  its  day  throughout 
Italy.  On  his  return  to  Naples  in  1492,  he  appeared  in 
the  character  of  play-writer  to  the  court,  which,  being  prin- 
cipally composed  of  Spanish  hidalgos  (a  branch  of  the  Ma- 
drid family  holding  at  that  period  the  sovereignty),  must 
have  been  pleased  at  the  subjects  selected  by  him  for  drama- 
tic illustration ;  viz.  the  Conquest  of  Grenada,  and  the  Fall 
of  the  Moors.  These  comedies,  written  in  the  slang  of  the 
lazzaroni,  though  well  received  on  their  appearance,  have 
fallen  now  into  oblivion. 

He  next  took  to  the  sword,  and  joined  his  royal  patron 
in  an  inroad  it  pleased  the  King  of  Naples  (a  vassal  of  the 
holy  see)  to  make  on  the  patrimony  of  St.  Peter,  then  owned 
by  the  ruffian  Alexander  Borgia ;  the  gallant  Ludovico 
Sforza  (aided  by  the  French  under  Charles  VIII.)  drove 
the  invaders  out,  rolled  back  the  tide  of  war  into  the  enemy's 
territory,  and  swept  the  Spanish  dynasty  from  the  throne. 
Faithful  to  the  fallen  prince,  Sannazar  became  the  compa- 
nion of  his  banishment,  and  travelled  with  him  through  Spain 


MODEElf  LATIN  POETS.  543 

and  southern  Prance.  At  this  time  he  formed  a  friendship 
with  the  famous  Gronzalvo  of  Cordova.  On  the  restoration 
of  the  exiled  house  to  the  throne  of  Naples,  TVederick,  who 
succeeded  Perdinand  II.,  conferred  on  his  adherent  the  villa 
of  Margellina,  in  the  vicinity  of  thbt  delightful  capital ;  in 
the  rural  repose  of  this  suburban  retreat  he  gave  himself  up 
to  the  cultivation  of  Latin  poetry. 

Of  his  reputation  at  the  revival  of  classic  taste  through- 
out Europe,  an  idea  may  be  collected  from  the  epitaph  writ- 
ten on  his  tomb,  close  to  that  of  Virgil,  by  Cardinal  Bembo, 
a  rival  iu  the  same  walk  of  literature : 

"  DA  SAOEO  CINEEI  ELOEES  !    HIO  ILIE  MAEOWI 
SANNAZAEUS  MUSA  PBOXIMtTS  UT  TFMUIO." 

,  And  no  two  sepulchres  could  be  more  appropriately  placed 
in  juxtaposition  on  the  romantic  promontory  of  PausiUppd. 
The  grand  poem  of  Sannazar,  De  partu  Virginis,  which  occu- 
pied twenty  years  of  his  hfe,  is  replete  with  evidence  of  a 
fine  imagination  and  an  exquisite  perception  of  rhythmic 
melody,  surpassing  m.  both  these  respects  Vida  on  a  similar 
subject  (Christiados,  lib.  xii.).  Some  few  hues  will  warrant 
my  judgment.  The  following  extract  refers  to  thp  arrival  of 
St.  Joseph  and  the  Virgiu  at  Bethlehem :  it  is  preceded  by 
a  magnificent  description  of  the  census  ordered  to  be  taken 
throughout  the  Eoman  empire  by  Augustus  Caesar,  when 
"  all  went  to  be  taxed,  every  one  in  his  own  city." — Lwhe, 
chap.  ii. 

"  Turn  fines  Galilsea  tuos  emensus  et  imas 
.  Carmeli  valles,  quseque  altus  Tertice  opaoat 
Bura  Thabor,  sparsamque  jugis  Samaritida  terram 
Palmiferis  ; — Soljmas  e  Isev^  liquerat  arces 
Cum  simul  e  tumulo  muros  et  teota  domoruin 
Prospexit,  patriaeque  agnovit  moenia  terrse  ; 
Continue  laohrymis  urbem  veneratur  obortis, 
Intenditque  manus,  eti  ab  imo  peetore  fatur. 

Bethlemiae  turres  [  et  non  obscura  meorum 
Eegna  patrum,  magnique  olim  salvete  penatea  ! 
Tuque  O  terra  !  parens  regum,  TJBuraque  regem 
Cui  Sol  et  gemioi  famulentur  cardinis  axes, 
Salve  iterum !     Te  vana  Jovis  ounabula  Crete 
Horrescet  ponetque  bugs  temeraria  fastus ; 
Parva  loquor !  prono  venient  diademate  supplex 
lUa  potens  rerum  terrarumque  inclyta  Eoma, 
Atque  orbis  dominam  subniittet  ad  osoula  frontem  !" 

Lib.  ii.  236. 


54^ 


TATHEB  PEOUT*S  EELIQUES. 


Prom  the  pen  of  Sannazar,  besides  this  e^zc,  we  have  tltree 
books  of  elegies  two  of  lyrical  aad  misceUaneous  poetry,  and 
the  six  piscatorial  eclogues  on  which  his  fame  principally 
rests.  The  elegies  are  addressed  to  the  friends  who  cheered 
the  cahn  evening  of  his  days,  and  frequent  allusion  occurs 
to  the  delightful  residence  of  the  villa  Morgellina,  the  gift 
of  his  royal  benefactor. 


De  Fonte  Sti.  Nazari,  in  fundo 
suburbano  meo. 

Eat  mihi  rivo  vitreus  perenni 
Fons  arenosum  prope  littus,  undd 
SsBpe  discedens  Bibi  nauta  rores 
Haurit  amicos. 

Unicus  nostris  scatet  ille  ripis 
Montis  immenso  sitiente  tractu, 
Vitifer  qua  PausilipuB  vadosum  ex- 
currit  in  eequoi;. 

Hunc  ego  vittfL  redimitus  albS,, 
Flore,  et  tBstivis  veneror  coronis, 
Cum  timentamnes  et  hiulca  asQvum 
Arva  leoneni. 

Antequ&m  fostse  redeant  calendsB 

Fortia  Augusti,  superantque  patri 

Quatuor  luces  mihi  tempua  omai 

Dulcius  sevo. 

Bis  mihi  sanctum,  mihi  bis  vocan- 

dnm, 
Bis  celebrandum  potiore  cnltu, 
Duplici  voto,  geminiique  semper 
Thuria  acerra. 

Namqne  ab  extremo  properans  Eoo 
Hft  die  primura  mihi  vagienti 
Phoebus  illuxit,  pari terque  dias 
Hausimus  auras. 

Hflc  et  inaigni  peragenda  ritu 
Sacra  solemnes  veniunt  ad  aras, 
Nazari  uode  omnes  tituli  meceque 
Nomina  gentia. 

Hlnc  ego  gratA  scopulorum  in  umbrft 
Rusticiim  parvis  statui  columnia 
Nazaro  fanum,  aimul  et  sacravi 
Nomine  fontem. 

0  decuB  ccbU  I  simul  et  tnorum 
Rite  quera  parvft  veneramur  sede 
Cui  frequentandaa  populis  futuris 
Fonimus  aras. 

Accipe  Bestivam,  nova  Berta.citnim  1 
Et  mihi  longos  liceatper  annos, 
Hie  tuum  caatia  sine  fraude  votis 
Foscere  numen. 


The  Fountain  of  Si.  Nazaro, 


There's  a  fount  at  the  foot  of  Fausilip^'s  hill, 

Springing  up  on  our  bay'a  aunny  margin, 
And  the  mariner  loveth  his  vessel  to  fill 

At  this  fount,  of  which  I  am  the  guardian. 
*Tis  the  gem  of  my  villa,  the  neighbourhood's 
boaat. 

And  with  pleasure  and  pride  I  preserve  it; 
For  alone  it  wells  out,  while  the  vine-covered 
coast 

In  the  summer  lies  panting  and  fervid. 

When  the  plains  are  all  parched,  and  the  rivers 
run  low. 

Then  a  festival  cornea  I  love  dearly : 
Here,  with  goblet  in  hand ,  my  devotion  I  shew 

To  the  day  of  my  birth  that  comes  yearly. 
'Tis  the  feast  of  my  patron,  N  azaro  the  Saint ; 

Nor  for  aught  that  fond  name  would  I  barter: 
To  this  fount  I  have  fixed  that  fond  name,  to 
acquaint 

All  mankind  with  my  love  Cor  the  martyr. 

He's  the  tutelar  genius  of  me  and  of  mine, 

And  to  honour  the  saints  is  my  motto : 
Unto  him  I  devoted  this  well,  and  a  shrine 

Unto  him  I  have  built  in  the  grotto. 
There  his  altar  devoutly  with  shells  I  have 
deck'd — 

I  have  deck'd  it  with  crystal  and  coral ; 
And    have  strewed   all  the   pavement   with 
branches  select 

Of  the  myrtle,  the  pine,  and  the  laurel. 

By  the  brink  of  this  well  will  I  banquet  the  day 

Of  my  birth,  on  its  yearly  recurring; 
Then  at  eve,  when  the  bonny  breeze  wrinkles 
the  bay. 

And  the  leaves  of  the  citron  are  stirring, 
Beneath  my  calm  dwelling  before  I  repair, 

To  the  Father  of  Mercy  addreaajng, 
In  a  Hpiiit  of  thankfulnesa,  gratitude's  prayer, 

I'll  invoke  on  his  creatures  a  blessing. 

And  long  may  the  groves  of  Pausilip^  shade 
By  this  fount,  holy  martyr,  thy  client: 

Thus  long  may  he  bless  thee  for  bountiful  aid. 
And  remain  on  thy  bounty  reliant. 


MODBEN   LATIN  POETS.  545 

Si  mihl  primes  generis  parentes,       To  thy  shrine  shall  the  maids  of  Parthenopi 

Si  mihl  luceni  pariter  dedistl,  bring 

Hiio  age  et  foutem  tibi  dedicatum         Lighted  tapers,  In  yearly  procession ; 

Sffipe  revise.  While  the  pilgrim  hereafter  shall  visit  this 

spring, 
■  To  partake  of  the  Saint's  intercession  I 

His  pastoral  poetry  has  obtained  him  celebrity ;  if  pasto- 
ral it  may  be  called,  since  it  chiefly  refers  to  the  bay  of 
Naples,  and  the  manners,  customs,  and  loves  of  the  fishermen. 
There  was  novelty  in  the  idea  of  maritime  eclogues  ;  the  same 
freshness  of  imagery  which  gave  a  sort  of  vogue  to  the  Ori- 
ental pastorals  of  Collins,  rendered  attractive  in  this  case  an 
otherwise  dull  and  somniferous  sort  of  composition.  The 
crook  was  happily  exchanged  for  the  fishing-rod,  and  well-re- 
plenished nets  were  substituted  for  bleating  folds.  On  look- 
ing over  these  pastorals,  I  alight  on  an  odd  idea,  attri- 
buted by  the  poet  to  a  Neapolitan  fisherman,  respecting  the 
phenomenon  of  ocean-tides.  The  Mediterranean  being  ex- 
empt from  them,  the  lazarone  waterman  puts  forth  the 
following  theory : 

"  Et  quae  offiruleoB  proeul  aspieit  ora  Britannos 
Qusl  (nisi  vana  ferunt)  quoties  maris  unda  resedit 
Indigense  oaptant  nudos  per  littora  pisces." 

The  ebbing  and  flowing  of  the  tide  would,  doubtless,  have 
furnished  the  early  Greek  and  Eoman  poets  with  abundant 
moral  and  poetical  allusion,  had  they  such  a  transition  con- 
stantly before  their  eyes  as  we  have  ;  and  I  make  no  apo- 
logy for  noticing  in  this  place  a  robbery  of  Tom  Moore,  who 
has  made  use  of  a  !Frencn  author's  ideas  on  this  topic,  trans- 
ferring the  whole  piece  into  his  Melodies.     Ex.  gr.  : 

Verses  written  by  Fontenelle  in  the  Album  of  Ninon  de  I'Enclos. 

Moore's  "  I  saw  from  the  beach,"  &c.  &c. 

"  Je  voyais  du  rivage,  an  lever  ^  I'au-  On  m'a  vant^  la  paix  et  la  gloire  finale, 

i-ore,  Qiii  courronnent  le  sage  au  dfeclin  de 

Un  esquif  sur  les  ilots,  qui  vognait  ses  jours ; 

tout  joyeux;  Mais,  Odieux!  rendez-moi  lafraicheur 

Je  revins  sur  le  soir...il  y  4tait  encore,  matinale, 

Mais,  h^las!  dflaiss^  par  le  flotd6-  La  rosteet  les  pleursdemes  premiers 

daigneux.  amours. 

Jo  me  suis  dit  alors :  'C'est  I'esquif  du  Qui  me  rendra  ce  terns  d'ineffables  de- 

bel  age,  lioes, 

C'est  le  flot  du  bonbeur  qui  le  beroe  Oft  mon  cceur  s'exhalait  en  amoureuz 

au  matin;  dtsirs ; 

Mais  la  barque  au  reflux  reste  ici  sur  Comme  un  bois  d' Arable  aux  pienx  sa- 

la  plage,  orifices, 

Et  ToiUduplaisii  Wpblmire  destini  Qui  s'immole  en  jettant  de  parfum«» 

Boupirsl'" 


546  PATHEE  peout's  eeliqtjeb. 

Little  else  remains  to  be  said  of  Sannazar,  who  died  at 
the  age  of  72,  on  the  margin  of  that  deUcious  hay  where  he 
had  judiciously  pitched  his  tent  towards  the  close  of  a  long 
and  adventurous  career,  and  where  he  had  surrounded  him- 
self with  all  that  can  make  existence  pleasant — the  charms 
of  Mendship,  the  pursuits  of  literature,  and  the  consolations 
of  religion,  a.d.  1530. 

Jerome  Pracastor  saw  the  light  at  Verona  in  1483.  He 
exhibited,  on  his  first  appearance  in  this  clamorous  world, 
the  anatomical  rarity  of  a  mouth  so  hermetically  sealed,  lips 
so  perfectly  adhering  to  each  other,  as  to  require  the  sur- 
geon's bistouri  to  make  an  aperture  for  vocal  sounds.  Net 
less  extraordinary  was  a  subsequent  occurrence  in  the  history 
of  his  chndhood.  One  day,  while  in  the  arms  of  his  mother, 
the  electric  fluid,  during  a  thunder-storm,  was  pleased  to  de- 
prive the  parent  of  life,  leaving  the  infant  poet  unscathed. 
At  nineteen  he  was  deemed  fit  to  fill  the  chair  of  logic  at 
the  university  of  Padua.  Having  embraced  the  medical 
profession,  he  quickly  attained  eminence  in  the  healing  art ; 
and  such  was  the  splendour  of  his  name  throughout  Italy, 
that  he  was  summoned  to  Eome  and  invested  vrith  the  post 
of  ag;^/argos,  or  state-physician  to  Pope  Paul  III.  In  this 
capacity  he  attended  the  Council  of  Trent,  and  there,  on  the 
appearance  in  1547  of  certain  symptoms  of  a  contagious  dis- 
temper in  that  neighbourhood,  the  physician  waved  his  wand, 
dissolved  the  meeting  of  the  oecumenical  fathers,  and  ordered 
them  to  transfer  their  labours  to  the  more  salubrious  city  of 
JBologna ;  which  mandate  was  at  once  obeyed  by  that  as- 
sembly, duly  impressed  with  the  wisdom  of  Pracastor.  He 
died  in  1553,  at  the  advanced  age  of  seventy ;  beyond  which, 
according  to  the  Psalmist^  there  is  nothing  but  trouble, 
dulness,  and  drivelling.  My  contemporary,  old  Talleyrand,  is, 
however,  an  exception. 

To  speak  of  the  works  of  our  poet  is  now  the   difficulty 
for  his  principal  claim  to  renown  as  a  writer  is  founded  on 
a  didactic  poem,  of  which  the  name  cannot  be  breathed.* 
We  may,  however,  indicate  the  subject  on  which  his  muse 
has  chosen  to  expatiate  with  all  the  ndiveti  of  unsophisti- 

•  Old  Prout  appears  rather  squeamish  in  this  matter ;  Lady  Bles- 
sington  has  had  no  scruple  in  dweHing  on  the  praises  of  rraoastor  in 
her  last  novel,  The  Two  Friends,  1834,  vol.  iii.  p.  210.— O.  Y. 


MODEEN  I/ATITT  POETS,  547 

cated  genius,  by  stating  that  it  bears  some  analogy  to  the 
commentaries  of  Julius  Osesar,  De  Bella  Gallico.  Perhaps 
the  opening  lines  will  be  more  explanatory : 

"  Qui  casus  rerum  varii,  quae  semina  morbum 
Insuetum  nee  longa  lilli  per  ssecula  viaum 
Attulerint ;  noBtr4  qui  tempestate  per  omuem 
Europam,  partemque  Asise,  Lybyseque  per  iu:bea 
Sseviit ;  in  Latium  vero  per  tristia  bella 
G-allorum  irrupit,  nomenque  a  gente  reoepit ; 
Hine  oanere  incipiam.     Naturse  Buavibus  horti 
Horibus  invitant  et  amantes  mira  Camoenee !" 

The  fastidiousness  of  modem  taste  does  not  allow  a  cri- 
tical dissection  of  this  extraordinaty  work,  in  which  there  is 
a  marvellous  display  of  inventive  ingenuity,  of  exuberant 
fancy,  great  medical  skill,  and  great  masterdom  over  the 
technical  terms  of  the  art,  so  as  to  blend  them  with  the 
smooth  current  of  poesy.  The  episodes  are  particularly 
deserving  of  commendation,  and  the  whole  performance 
stamps  the  author  as  a  man  of  superior  accomplishments 
and  high  philosophy.    But  the  subject  is  intractable. 

He  was  not  the  first  who  adopted  this  metrical  method  of 
conveying  medical  theories :  the  school  of  Salerno,  in  the 
eleventh  century,  had  clothed  their  precepts  in  verse ;  and 
the  distichs  of  the  Schola  Salernitana  were  long  quoted  with 
reverence  by  the  faculty.  They  are  addressed  to  Eobert  of 
Normandy,  who  stopped  at  Salerno,  on  his  return  from  the 
Holy  Land,  to  get  his  arm  cured  of  an  issue  ;  and  as  he 
was  on  his  way  to  take  possession  of  the  throne  of»England, 
he  is  saluted  as  king  in  the  opening  of  the  book,  though  he 
never  lived  to  sway  the  sceptee  of  these  islands : 

"  Anglorum  regi  scribit  Schola  tota  Salemi,"  &e. 

Chap.  III. — Theodoee  Bbza,  Father  Yanibee,  G-eobge 
Buchanan. 
"  Tros  Rutulusve  fuat  nullo  diacrimine  habebo." — JEneid,  Kb.  x. 
"  Je  ne  decide  paa  entre  Geneve  et  Eome." — Henriade,  cant.  ii.  v.  6. 
Prout  conjures  up  three  ghosta,  to  sup  to-night  on  a  red-herring ; 
These  ghostly  guesta  he  interesta — on  the  art  they  loved  conferring : 
With  a  cordial  greet  the  Jesu-it  hails  the  two  other  gemmen — 
The  cannie  Soot,  with  the  Huguenot  from  the  borders  of  Lake  Leman. — 

O.  Y. 

Cbetaitt  craniological  proceedings    are   reported   to  have 


548  TATHEE  PEOTTt'S   EELIQTJES. 

taken  place  in  Dublin.  Every  one  who  has  read  the  paper, 
published  by  us  in  July,  1834,  entitled  "  Swift's  Madness  ; 
a  Tale  of  a  Churn,"  must  know  that  Front's  parents  were 
the  Dean  and  the  accomplished  Stella.  Mr.  Burke,  (now 
Sir  Bernard)  genealogist,  and  Ulster  king-atarms,  has  ad- 
mitted the  fact.  Now  it  appears  that  a  "  scientific  asso- 
ciation" (a  show  got  up  on  the  principle  of  Wombwell's 
travelling  menagerie)  has  been  visiting  the  Irish  capital ; 
and  in  return  for  sundry  capers,  exhibited  in  the  Eotunda, 
has  requested  (out-Heroding  Heeodiab  !)  that  the  skuUs  of 
Swift  and  Stella  should  be  presented  on  a  charger  for  ia- 
spection.  The  result  of  the  phrenological  inquest  is  an- 
nounced to  be  the  discovery  of  "  the  organ  of  combaiiveness" 
in  Prout's  father  "  very  large ;"  that  of  "  destructiveness" 
equally  so,  "  wit"  being  at  a  very  low  mark — "  impercep- 
tible." We  cannot  let  this  pass ;  we  repel  the  implied  in- 
sinuation that  Front  inherited  from  the  Dean  these  combative 
and  destructive  bumps  along  with  the  "  imperceptible"  share 
of  wit  which  we  are  willing  to  admit  fell  to  his  lot,  and 
formed  indeed  (with  a  lock  of  Stella's  hair)  his  sole  patri- 
mony. Mild  and  tolerant,  ever  ready  to  make  allowance  for 
other  people's  prejudices,  sympathising  with  all  mankind, 
there  was  not  an  atom  of  pugnacity  in  his  composition :  had 
an  autopsia  taken  place  at  his  death,  the  gaU-bladder  would 
have  been  found  empty.  He  was  particularly  free  from 
that  epidemic,  which  has  ever  raged  among  clergymffli  of  all 
persuasions,  the  scurvy  disorder  called,  by  Galen,  Odium 
Theologicum.  This  immedicable  distemper  never  made  the 
slightest  inroad  <5n  his  constitution.  To  his  brethren  of  the 
cloth  he  recommended  the  belles  lettres  as  an  effectual  pro- 
phylactic :  one  of  his  innocent  superstitions  was  that  the 
Castalian  spring  possessed  an  efficacy  akin  to  the  properties 
TertulHan  ascribes  to  "  holy  water,"  and  that,  like  the  "  aqua 
lustralis,"  it  could  equally  banish  evil  spirits,  chase  goules 
and  vampires,  and  lay  the  ghost  of  bygone  dissension  wher- 
ever it  was  sprinkled. 

Having  thus  disposed  of  the  "  combative  bump,"  we  pass 
to  the  "  destructive"  protuberance  which,  it  is  hmted.  Swift 
transferred  to  his  venerable  child.  Te  gods !  Frout  a  de- 
structive !  No,  no,  the  padre  was  no  priestly  sansculotte ; 
and  Vinegar  Hill  was  not  the  mount  on  which  he  paid  his 


MOBEEW  LATIK  POETS.  549 

political  adorations.  Like  Edmund  Burke,  he  wished  to 
see  "  no  ruin  on  the  face  of  the  land."  His  youthful  re- 
miniscences of  the  Jacobin  Club,  of  Marat,  of  Danton,  and 
of  Santerre  (who,  like  Dan,  kept  a  brewery),  had  given  a 
conservative  tone  to  his  feelings.  As  for  the  lay  abbot  of 
Derrynane  "  Abbey,"  he  had  watched  his  early  proceedings 
with  a  certain  degree  of  interest ;  he  soon  smoked  the  char- 
latan, when  the  accounts  of  "  the  Association"  began  to  get 
somehow  "  unaccountably  mixed  up"  with  his  own  balances 
in  the  banker's  ledger ;  which  mistake  happened  as  early  as 
1827  :  and  Prout's  prophetic  eye  foresaw  at  once  the  law- 
yer's bag  distending  itself  into  the  subsequent  dimensions 
of  the  beggar's  wallet.  In  one  of  his  sermons  to  the  faith- 
ful of  "WatergrasshOl  (the  MS.  is  in  the  chest),  he  employs, 
as  usual  when  he  seeks  to  illustrate  any  topic  of  importance, 
a  quotation  from  one  of  the  holy  fathers  ;  and  the  passage 
he  selects  is  from  a  homily  of  St.  Augustia,  addressed  to 
the  people  of  Hyppo  in  Africa : — " Proverbium  notum  est 
Funicum  quod  quidem  Latini  vobis  dicam  quia  Puniek  non  omnes 
nostis ;  NtrMMiTM  QiriEEiT  pestilentia  ?  niios  iili  da,  et 
Dtjoatse!"  {Serm.  CLXVII.  Sti.  Aug.  Opera,  tome  v.  p.. 
804,  Benedictine  Ed.)  i.  e.  "  There  is  an  old  proverb  of  your 
Phoenician  ancestors  which  I  will  mention  in  Latin,  as  you 
don't  aU  speak  the  Punic  dialect :  '  Does  the  plague  ptjt 

TOBTH  its  hand  FOE  ALMS  ?  INSTEAO)  OF  A  PENNY  GIVE 
TWO,  THAT  TOF   MAT  BE  MOEE  SPEEDILY  BID  OF  THE    GEIM 

APPLICANT.'  Now,  my  good  parishioners,  this  aphorism  of 
our  Carthaginian  forefathers  (I  am  sorry  we  have  not  been 
favoured  by  St.  Augustin  with  the  original  Celtic)  would 
hold  good  if  the  mendicant  only  paid  us  a  fortuitous  visit ; 
but  if  he  were  found  to  wax  importunate  in  proportion  to 
the  peace-offering  of  pence,  and  if  this  claimant  of  elee- 
mosynary aid  announced  to  us  a  perpetual  and  periodical 
visitation,  we  should  rather  adopt  the  resolution  of  one 
Laurence  Sterne  (who  has  written  sermons),  and,  buttoning 
up  our  pocket,  stoutly  refuse  to  give  a  single  sou." — Sermon 
for  Tribute  Sunday,  in  MS. 

The  fits  of  periodical  starvation  to  which  the  agricultural 
labourers  throughout  L-eland  (farmers  they  cannot  be 
called)  are  subject — the  screwing  of  rents  up  to  an  ad  li- 
bitum pressure  by  the  owners  of  the  soil — the  "  cleaxing  of 


550  TATHBE  PROTJT'S   BELIQTJES. 

estates,"  against  wMcli  there  is  no  legal  remedy,  and  which 
can  only  be  noticed  by  a  Eockite  Ullet-doux — ^the  slow, 
wasting  process  of  inanition,  which  carries  off  the  bidk  of 
the  peasantry  (for  there  is  a  slow-fever  of  hunger  endemic 
through  the  land,  permanent  like  the  malaria  of  Italy)  ; — 
these,  ia  Front's  yiew  of  things,  are  (and  have  been  since 
the  days  of  Swift)  the  only  real  grievances  of  the  country. 
The  ejected  peasant  of  the  Irish  hovel  Is  suffered  by  law  to 
die  in  a  ditch  ;  and  the  gratifying  of  sectarian  vaniiy,  by 
what  are  called  liberal  measures,  gave  Prout  no  pleasure 
while  the  cottier  was  allowed  to  be  trampled  on  by  the 
landlord  (Popish  or  Protestant)  with  uniform  heartlessness 
and  impunity. 

"  Pellitur  in  sinu  ferens  Deos, 
Et  vir  et  uxor  sordidosque  natOB." — Hoe. 

As  to  a  provision  for  the  poor,  Mr.  O'ConneU  appears  to 
think  that  enforced  alms  are  only  desirable  in  his  own  case. 

"  Un  jour  Habpagon,  touch4  par  le  pr6ne 
De  sou  Cur4  dit :  '  Je  vais  m'amender ; 
Eieu  u'est  si  beau,  si  touohant  que  I'aumdne, 
Et  de  ce  pas,  je  vais — Li  demaudee  !' " 

Any  debt  due  to  him  by  hia  co-religionists  for  oratorical  ex- 
ertions, was,  in  the  father's  estimate,  long  since  discharged. 
'A^agigro;  6  dri/io;  ;  Prout  would  ask,  in  the  words  of  Ms- 
chines,  and  with  him  answer,  Oi^ !  a?.Xa  //.e^aXo^^m  (in 
Ciesiphont.') 

These  were  Prout's  politics ;  some  may  prefer  his  poetry. 
"We  like  both. 

OLIYEE  TOEKE. 


Watergrasshill,  Oct.  1826. 

Eesuming  to-night  the  subject  of  modem  attempts  at 
Latin  versification,  a  name  suggests  itself  sufficiently  dis- 
tinguished in  the  annals  of  ecclesiastical  warfare,  but  not 
as  familiar  as  it  deserves  to  be  in  literary  circles.  I  alluda 
to  Beza.  Those  who  imagine  that  the  successor  to  John. ' 
Calvin,  in  that  snug  little  popedom  Geneva,  wovdd  influence, 
my  judgment  as  to  his  poetical  merits,  don't  know  my  way 
of  doing  business.    To  those  of  our  cloth,  the  recollections 


HODEElf  LATIN  POETS.  551 

connected  with  that  neighbourhood  are  not  delectable.  I  can- 
not saj-  with  Byron — 

"Lake  Leman  woos  me  witli  her  crystal  face." — (Canto  iii.  at.  68.) 

A  strange  attraction  seems  to  have  drawn  to  the  borders 
of  this  romantic  fishpond  Calvin  and  Madame  de  Stael, 
Rousseau  and  Gibbon,  Beza  and  Sir  Egerton  Brydges,  Vol- 
taire and  Sir  Humphrey  Davy  (or,  as  the  Italians  called  him, 
Zoromjridevi,)  John  Kemble,  St.  Francis  de  Sales,  Monsieur 
Necker,  Monsieur  de  Haller,  and  a  host  of  celebrities  in  re- 
ligion, politics,  and  literature. 

"  Lausanne  and  Femey  !  ye  have  h'een  the  abodes 
Of  names  which  unto  you  bequeathed  a  name — 
Mortals  who  sought  and  found,  by  dangerous  roads, 
A  path  to  perpetuity  of  fame." 

Whatever  was  the  fascination  of  this  lake  on  sensitive 
souls,  it  exercised  a  wholesome  influence  on  the  bodily  health 
of  the  denizens  on  its  margin ;  for,  not  to  mention  the  octo- 
genarian author  of  the  Henriade,  our  Theodore  himself  eked 
out  a  career  of  almost  a  full  century,  being  born  in  1519, 
and  deferring  his  departure  from  this  life  to  the  protracted 
milledmo  of  1605 !  Vezelai,  a  village  of  Burgundy,  was  his 
cradle ;  in  infancy  he  was  transferred  to  the  house  of  an  old 
uncle,  Nich.  de  Beze,  a  lawyer  in  Paris,  whence,  at  the  age 
of  ten,  he  was  removed  to  Orleans,  and  placed  under  the 
tuition  of  Melchior  Wolmar,  a  scholastic  luminary  of  the 
day :  from  him  the  embryo  reformer  imbibed  the  first  prin- 
ciples of  free  judgment  in  ^hurch  matters.  In  his  last  will 
and  testament  he  "  thanks  Q-od,  that  at  the  early  age  of  sis- 
teen  he  had  already,  in  his  secret  soul,  shaken  off  the  tram- 
mels of  popery."  This  did  not  prevent  him  from  accepting 
the  clerical  tonsure  and  petit  collet  to  qualify  for  a  chutch 
living,  viz.  the  priory  of  Longjumeau,  which  he  held  until 
the  year  1548.  He  had  expectations  from  an  uncle,  who 
■would  have  left  him  ecclesiastical  revenues  to  the  amount  of 
15,000  livres :  things  turned  out  otherwise.  He  mixed  for 
years  in  the  gaieties  of  the  French  capital,  publishing  in  the  in- 
tervals of  fun  and  frolic  his  Poemata  Juvenilia  ;  when  a  serious 
attachment  to  a  young  lady  of  great  mental  accomplishments, 
andalso  a  fit  of  sickness,  caused  a  change  to  come  o'er  the  spirit 
of  his  life's  young  dream.     On  recovery  from  his  illness, 


552  TATHEE  PEOUT's  EELIQTJES. 

during  which  he  had  enjoyed  the  services  of  a  most  amiahle 
mirse-tender,  he  renounced  his  priory,  bade  adieu  to  his 
avuncular  prospects,  and  fled  to  Geneva,  where  his  acknow- 
ledged scholarship  caused  him  to  be  received  with  acclama- 
tion. I  had  forgot  to  add  that  Candida,  the  lady  of  his  love, 
was  the  partner  of  his  flight.  If  we  are  to  judge  of  her 
beauty  and  sylph-like  form  by  the  standard  of  Beza's  glowing 
verses,  Adpedem  Candidce, 

"  O  pes !  quern  geminse  premunt  columnBe,"  &c.  &c. 

she  must  have  been  a  fitting  Egeria  to  supply  the  new  legis- 
lator of  divinity  with  graceful  inspirations.  He  was  made 
Grreek  professor  at  Lausanne,  an  occupation  to  which  he 
devoted  ten  years ;  there  he  wrote  a  Latin  tragedy,  called 
the  Sacrifice  of  Abraham,  which  drew  tears  from  old 
Pasquier's  eyes.  At  Lausanne  he  also  published  a  Prench 
translation  of  the  New  Testament,  and  carried  on  a  contro- 
versy against  Sebastian  CastaHo,  a  brother  reformer  and 
rival  translator.  This  Castalio  had  the  impudence  to  censure 
Calvin  for  burning  Servetus,  and  Theodore  wrote  a  book  in 
his  master's  defence,  which  was  printed  by  Eobert  Etienne 
(1  vol.  8vo.  Paris,  1554),  "  under  the  sign  of  the  olive," 
and  entitled  De  Hcereticis  a  civili  Magistratu  puniendis.  The 
doctrine  of  putting  heretics  to  death  is  more  strenuously 
enforced  in  this  tract  than  even  in  Dens'  stupid  book  of 
theology.  Beza  little  thought  what  use  might  be  made  of 
his  own  doctrines  ;  that  foresight  which  Horace  praises  in 
Eegulus  did  not  form  part  of  his  character :  he  did  not  look 
to  the  consequences. 

"  Hoc  oaverat  mens  provida  !Reguli 
Dissentientis  conditionibus 
Sseris  et  exemplo  tkahenti 
Pebnioibm  teniehs  in  ^vtjm." 

Hoe.,  Ode  v.  lib.  iii. 

It  is  right  to  add,  that  Melancthon  differed  totally  from  the 
tenets  of  his  brethren  at  Geneva  on  this  matter. 

The  death  of  Calvin  left  him  the  recognised  chief  of  Eu- 
ropean Protestantism  in  1564,  previous  to  which  he  had  ap- 
peared as  the  representative  of  the  cause  at  the  famous 
Colloque  de  Poissy ;  which,  like  aU  such  exhibitions  of 
religious  wrangHng,  ended  in  each  party  being  as  wise  aa 


MOBEEN  LATIN  POETS. 


553 


ever.  ^  He  presided  at  the  synod  of  Eoclielle  in  1570,  and 
Ms  wife,  Candida,  dying  in  1588,  he  remarried  a  young 
spouse,  whom  he  calls  the  "  Shunamite  :'*  a  gay  thought  for 
a  theologian  in  his  seventy-third  year.  This,  however,  is  no 
busiaess  of  ours.     Let  us  have  a  stave  of  his  poetry. 

Most  of  his  verses  are  in  the  hendecasyllabic  metre,  the 
choice  of  which  indicates  who  were  his  favourite  authors 
among  the  poets. 


Theodokus  !Beza 

Musis  tineam  sacriJicaU 

Si  rogat  Cereremque  Liberumqu© 
Vitse  soUicitus  suae  colonus  ; 
Si  Marortis  opud  petit  cruentns 
Miles  sollicitus  sufe  salutis ; 
Quidnij  Calliope,  tibl  tuisque 
Jure  Hacra  feram,  quibus  placere 
Est  unum  studium  mihi,  omnibusque 
Qui  vatum  e  uumero  volunt  baberi  ? 

Vobis  ergo  ferenda  sacra,  musae ! 
Sed  quie  victima  grata  ?  quss  Camenss 
Dicata  bostia  ?  parcite^  o  sorores ; 
Nova  bsec  victima  sed  tamen  suavis 
Futura  arbitror,  admodumque  grata. 
Accede,  o  tinea !  ilia  qun  pusillo 
Tentrem  corpore  geris  voracem. 


Tene  Pieridum  aggredi  ministros  ? 
Tene  arrodeve  tarn  sacros  labores  ? 
Nee  factum  mihi  denega :  ecce  furti 
Tui  exempla  tuse  et  voracitatia  I 
Tu  ferfe  mihi  "Passerem"  Catulli, 
Tu  fer&  mihi  "  Lesbiam"  abstulistl. 

Nunc  certe  meus  ille  Martialis 
Ima  ad  viscera  rosus  ecce  languet, 
5t  quEBrit   medicum    suum  "  Tripho- 

nem;" 
Imo,  et  ipse  Maro,  cui  *pepercit 
Olira  flamma,  tuura  tameu  terebrum 
Nuper,  0  fera  ter  scelesta^  seusit. 
Quid  dicam  innumeros  bene  eruditos. 
Quorum  tu  monumeuta  et  labores 
Isto  peasimo  ventre  deforasti? 

trodi  jam,  tunicam  relinque  I  prodi ! 
Vah,  I  ut  caUida  stringit  ipsa  sese 
Ut  mortem  simulat!    Scelesta,  prodi, 
Pro  tot  crimiuibus  datura  poenas. 
Age,  istum  jugulo  tuo  mucronem, 
Craentaj  acclpe,  et  istum  1  et  istum  I  et 

istum  1 
Vide  ut  palpitet  I  ut  craore  largo 
Axas  polluerit  profana  sacras. 


Lutes  by  Beza, 

Suggested  hy  a  moth-eaten  Bonk, 

The  soldier  soothes  in  his  behalf 
Bellona,  with  a  victim  calf; 
The  farmer's  fold  victims  exhaust — 
Geres  must  have  her  holocaust : 
And  shall  the  bard  alone  refuse 
A  votive  offering  to  his  muse. 
Proving  the  only  uncompliant 
Unmindful^  and  ungrateful  client  ? 

What  gift,  what  sacrifice  select, 
May  best  betoken  his  respect  ? 
Stay,  let  me  think. ..O  happy  notion ! 
What  can  denote  moi*e  true  devotion. 
What  victim  gave  more  pleasing  odour, 
Than  yon  small  grub,  yon  wee  corroder. 
Of  sluggish  gait,  of  shape  uncouth, 
With  Jacobin  destructive  tooth  ? 

Ho,  creeper  I  thy  last  hour  is  come ; 

Be  thou  the  muses'  hecatomb  T 

With  whining  tricks  think  not  to  gull  us : 

Have  I  not  caught  thee  iu  Catullus, 

Converting  into  thy  vile  marrow 

His  matchless  ditty  on  "  the  Sparrow  ?" 

Of  late,  thy  stomach  had  been  partial 

To  sundry  tit-bits  out  of  Martial ; 

Nay,  I  have  traced  thee,  insect  keen-eyed  ! 

Through  the  fourth  book  of  Maro's  "^neid." 

On  vulgar  French  could'st  not  thou  fatten. 

And  curb  thy  appetite  for  Latin? 

Or,  if  thou  would'st  take  Latin  from  us, 

Why  not  devour  Duns  Scot  and  Thomas  ? 

Might  not  the  "  Digest"  and  "  Decretals" 

Have  served  thee,  varlet,  for  thy  victuals  ? 

Victim.!  come  forth !  crawl  from  thy  nook  I 
Fit  altar  be  this  injured  book ;     , 
Caitiff  I  'tis  vain  slyly  to  simulate 
Torpor  and  death;  thee  this  shall  immo 

late— 
This  penknife,  fitting  guillotine 
To  shed  a  bookworm's  blood  obscene  \ 
Nor  can  the  poet  better  mark  his 
Zeal  for  the  muse  than  on  thy  carcass. 


*  QuBere,  Hack,  a  tome  ? — Frinter^a  Devil. 


554  TATHER   PEOTJT'S    EELIQT7ES. 

At  V08,  Pierides  bonseque  musee,  The  deed  ir-  done  I  the  inBect  Goth 

Nunc  gaudete  !  jacet  fera  interempta :  Unmouraed  (save  by  matemul  moth), 

Jacet  Bacrilega  ilia  quse  Bolebat  Slain  without  mercy  or  remorse, 

Sacros  Pieridum  vorare  servos.  Lies  there,  a  melancholy  corse. 

Hanc  vobis  tunicam,has  dice,  Camoenae,  The  page  he  had  profaned  'tis  meet 

Vobis  fixuvias,  nt  hunc  tropheum  Should  he  the  rohbei^s  winding-sheet ; 

Faraasso  in  medio  locetis :  et  sit  "While  for  the  deed  the  muse  decrees  a 

Hfiec  inscriptio,  Db  feea  inteeempta  Wreath  of  her  brightest  hays  to  Be2A. 

BeZ^DB  SPOLIA  HiEC  OPIMA  MUSIS. 

I  know  not  whetlier  Southey,  wliose  range  of  reading 
takes  in,  like  the  whirlpool  of  the  Indian  ocean,  sea-weed 
and  straws,  as  well  as  frigates  and  merchantmen,  has  not 
found,  in  this  obscure  poem  of  Beza,  the  prototype  of  his 
fanciful  lines 

"On  a  Worm  in  the  NuV 

Nay,  gather  not  that  filbert,  Nicholas;  Him  may  the  nut-hatch,  piercing  with 
There  is  a  maggot  there  :  it  is  his  house,  strong  bill. 

His  castle — oh,  commit  not  burglary  1  Unwittingly  destroy ;  or  to  his  hoard 

Strip  him  not  naked ;  'tis  his  clothes,  his  The  squirrel  bear,  at  leisure  to  be  crack'd. 

shell,  Han  also  hath  his  dangers  and  bis  foes 

His  bones,  the  very  armour  of  his  life.  As  this  poor  maggot  hath ;  and  when  I 
And  thou  sbaltdo  no  murder,  Nicholas  I  mnse 

It  were  an  easy  thing  to  crack  that  nut,  Upon  the  aches,  anxieties,  and  fears. 

Or   with    thy  crackers    or  thy   double  The  maggot  knows  not,  Nicholas,  me- 

teeth :  thinks 

So  easily  may  all  things  be  destroyed  I  It  were  a  happy  metamorphosis 

But  *tis  not  in  the  power  of  mortal  man  To  he  enkemelled  thus :  never  to  hear 

To  mend  the  fracture  of  a  filbert-shell.  Of  wars,  and  of  invasions,  and  of  plots, 

Enough  of  dangers  and  of  enemies  Kings,  Jacobins,  and  tax -commissioners; 

Hath  Nature's  wisdom  for  the  worm  or-  To  feel  no  motion  but  the  wind  that  shook 

dained.  The  filbert-tree,  and  rock'd  me  to  my  rest : 

Increase  not  thou  the  number  I  him  the  And  in  the  middle  of  such  exquisite  food 

mouse,  To  live  luxurious  !  the  perfection  this 

Gnawing  with  nibbling  tooth  the  shell's  Of  snugness  I  it  were  to  unite  at  once 

defence,  Hermit  retirement,  aldermanic  bliss, 

May  from  his  native  tenement  eject ;  And  Stoic  independence  of  mankind," 

But  perhaps  Lafontaine's  rat,  who  retired  from  the  world's 
intercourse  to  the  hermitage  of  9>,fromage  (THoUande^  was  the 
real  source  of  Southey's  inspiration. 

In  another  effusion,  which  he  has  entitled  Ad  Bibliothecam, 
Beza's  enthusiasm  for  the  writers  of  classic  antiquity  breaks 
out  in  fine  style ;  and  as  the  enumeration  of  his  favourites 
may  possess  some  interest,  insomuch  as  it  affords  a  clie  to 
his  early  course  of  reading,  I  insert  a  fragment  of  this  glo- 
rious nomenclature.     The  catalogue  requires  no  translation : 

"  Salvete  incolumes  met  libelli,  Oneci  1  ponere  quos  loco  priore 

Meee  delicise,  mese  salutes  I  Becebat,  Sophocles,  Isocratesque, 

Salve  miCicero,  Gatulle,  salve  I  Et  tu  cui  pc^utaris  aura  nomen 

Salve  ml  Maro,  Pliniumqoe  uterquel  Dedii,  tu  quoque  magne  Homere  salve! 

Mi  Cato,  Columella,  Varro,  Livi  I  Salve  Aristoteles,  Plato,  Timoae  I 

Salve  mi  quoque  Plaute,  tu  Terenti,  Et  vos,  0  reliqui  I  quibus  negatum  est 

Et  tu  salve  Ovidi,  Fabi,  Properti  I  Includi  numeris  phaleuciorom." 
Vos  salvete  etiam  disertlore«  ^ 


MODEEN    LATIN    POETS.  555 

The  lines  whicli  I  have  marked  in  italics  convey  the  theory 
Bubseqiiently  broached  by  Professor  "WoMC,  and  maintained 
with-  such  prodigious  learning ;  viz.  that  Homer  was  a  mere 
ens  rationis,  a  nominis  umbra,  representing  no  individual  of 
the  species — such  poet  never  having  existed — but  that  the 
various  rhapsodies  forming  Iliad  and  Odyssey  were  collected 
throughout  Greece,  and  the  authorship  ascribed  to  this  ima- 
gjiary  personage  about  the  time  of  Lycurgus.  The  scepti- 
cism of  Beza  would  greatly  corroborate  vhe  Wolffian  doc- 
trine. 

We  have  no  list  of  his  favourite  authors  among  modem 
writers,  but  it  would  appear  that  he  had  a  partiality  for 
Frank  Eabelais,  and  relished  exceedingly  the  learned  buf- 
foonery of  that  illustrious  Theban.  "Witness  the  following 
distich : 

"  Qui  sio  nugatur,  traotantem  ut  seria  vincat, 
Seria  cum  ecribet,  die  modo  qualis  erit  ?" 

If  jokes  and  fan  he  shew  such  might  in. 
What  would  he  be  in  serious  writing  ? 

Of  Beza  as  a  religionist,  it  does  not  become  me  to  say  a 
word. 

A  notice  of  the  Jesuit  Jacques  Vanifere  must  be  necessa- 
rily brief,  as  far  as  biographical  detail.  His  was  the  quiet, 
peaceful,  but  not  illiterate  life  of  the  cloister ;  days  of  calm, 
unimpassioned  existence,  gliding  insensibly,  but  not  unpro- 
fitably,  onwards  to  the  repose  of  the  grave  and  the  hopes  of 
immortality.  He  was  born  in  the  south  of  Trance,  near 
Montpellier,  in  1664 ;  was  enrolled  among  the  Jesuits  at  the 
age  of  sixteen ;  and  died  at  Toulouse  in  1739,  at  the  ad- 
vanced age  of  seventy -three. 

Schoolboys  are  not  aware  that  they  owe  him  a  debt  of 
gratitude ;  he  being  the  compiler  of  that  wondrous  ladder 
of  Jacob  yclept  Gradus  ad  Parnassum. 

His  great  work  is  the  Prcedium  Rusticum,  a  poem  distia- 
ffuished  by  a  brilliant  fancy,  a  kindly  feeling,  and  a  keen  relish 
for  the  pursuits  of  rural  life.  The  topics  are  "  vineyards," 
"fishponds,"  "poultry,"  "gardening,"  "game-preserves," 
and  "sheep-walks ;"  nor  do  I  know  any  book  which  conveys 
such  ^  detailed  picture  of  farming  operations  in  IVance 
before  the  Eevolution.    Since  that  event,  the  whole  system 


556  FATHEE   PEOn's   EBIiIQITES. 

of  landed  property  having  been  dashed  to  pieces,  a  totally 
different  state  of  society  has  supervened. 

There  are  several  singular  notions  broached  in  this  book : 
ex.  gr.  in  deprecating  the  destruction  of  forests,  our  poet 
points  out  the  value  of  fire-wood,  much  lamenting  over  the 
necessity  vfhich  compels  the  English  to  bum  coals,  and  then 
resort  to  Montpellier  to  get  ciired  of  subsequent  consumption  : 

" . . . .  Antiques  ferro  ne  dejice  lucos  ! 
Aspice  defosso  terris  carbone  Britanni, 
Quajn  male  disBolvunt  frigus  !  I'lpi^  ducitur  s;grh 
Spiritus !  infeBto  ni  labeacentibus  igne 
Monspeliensis  opem  tulerit  pulmoniblia  aer." 

The  digging  of  the  canal  of  Languedoc,  "  gemino  fadem 
commercia  ponto,"  forms  a  glorious  episode  (lib.  i.) ;  as  also 
does  the  memorable  plague  of  Marseilles  (lib.  ili.),  celebrated 
by  Pope,  and  during  which  our  poet's  confreres  distinguished 
themselves  by  their  heroic  devotedness.  The  description  of 
a  viUage-festival,  in  honour  of  the  patron-saint  (lib.  vii.),  has 
been  deservedly  admired,  and  has  been  translated  by  DeUlle. 
The  famous  year  of  the  hard  frost,  which,  towards  the  close 
of  the  reign  of  Louis  XIV.,  destroyed  all  the  olive  planta- 
tions in  the  south  of  France,  is  also  fittingly  sung  (lib.  viii.) ; 
but  commend  me  to  a  cock-fight  (Ub.  xii.) : 

"Colla  rigent  hirsuta  jubis  —  palearea  Necdiki  odiis  ireeque  datum  Batis,  hor- 

mento                                [ambo  rida  necd£im 

Dira  mbent — pognsB  prseludta  nulla — Bed  Bella  cadunt,  domitum  victor  dum  stra- 

Partibasadrersisfactosimulimpeteduris  verit  hostem; 

Fectora  pectoribus  quatiunt,  hoatilia  ros-  Ductaque  pulset  ovanB  plaudentibus  ilia 

tris  penniB 

RoBtra  petunt,  strictosque  repnlBant  un-  Et  Bublime  caput  circumferat  atque  tri- 

guibus  ungues.  umpbum 

AtuIbbb  volitant  plumeel  cruor  irrigat  Occinat  et  vacn^  aoluB  jam  regnat  in 

artus ;  aul&." 

The  various  habits  of  the  swan,  the  peacock,  the  turkey, 
and  other  feathered  subjects,  are  capitally  Mt  off;  nor 
is  there  a  more  pathetic  passage  in  the  Sorrows  of  Werter 
than  the  one  descriptive  of  a  hen's  grief.  This  hen  is  made 
to  "  sit"  on  a  batch  of  duck's  eggs,  and  when  the  ducklings 
have  appeared  she  stiU.  believes  them  to  be  chickens,  and 
acts  accordingly,  untU,  by  some  fatal  chance,  they  are  led  to 
the  brink  of  a  pond ;  when  lo !  the  secret  of  their  birth  is 
revealed,  and  they  rush  instinctively  into  the  deep.    The 


MODEEN   LATIN"   POETS. 


557 


passage,  however,  which  I  hare  selected  for  trauslation  is  in 
a  higher  key. 

From  Vakceeb's  Presdium  Rmticum,  lib.  xi. 

"  Hactenus  in  Btevili  satis  eluctatus  arenft,  Horrorinest!  lato  pendetcurvaminefornfx 

iit  todere  et  ferro  Imtas  compescere  vites  Luce  carens  fumoque  niger.  Stant  ordine 
Jitdocui,  falcem  tractans  durosque  ligones.  longo 

Nunc  cratere  manum  arniitus,  nunc  sor-  Dolia,  quss  culicum  globus  obsidet,  atque 

dida  musto  bibaci 

Vasagerens,  cellas  et  subterranea  Bacchi  Guttula  si  qua  meri  costis  dependeat  ore, 

liospitiaingredlor.  Proh  quanta  silentia I  Sugit  e*.  in  varios   circumvolat   ebriua 

quantus  orbea,"  &c.  &c. 


iMeUttation^  in  a  Wiim^€z\Ux. 

BY  THE  JESUIT  TANIEEE. 

"  Introduxit  me  in  cellam  vinariam."— 5on^  ofSoloTnon^  cap,  ii.  v.  4. 
(Vulgate  Version.) 


Tve  taught  thus  tar  a  vineyard  how  to 
plant, 
Wielded  the  pruning-hook,  and  plied 
tha  hoe^ 
And  ti'od  the  grape  ;  now.  Father  Bac- 
chus, grant 
Entrance  to  where,  in  many  a  goodly 

row, 
You  keep  your  treasures  safely  lodged 
below. 
Well  have  I  earned  the  privilege  I  ask; 
Then  proudly  down  the  cellar-steps 
I  go: 
Fain  would  I  terminate  my  tuneful  task, 
Pondering  before  each  pipe,  communing 
with  each  cask. 

Hail,  horrors,  hail !   Welcome,  Cimme- 
rian cellar ! 
Of  liquid  bullion  inexhausted  mine ! 
Cumeancave!...no  sibyl  thy  indweUer  : 
SolePythones8,the  witchery  of  wine  I 
Pleased  I  explore  this  sanctuary  of 
thine, 
An  humble  votary,  whom  venturous  feet 
Have  brought  into  thy  subterranean 

shrine; 
Its  mysteries  I  reverently  greet, 
Pacing  these  solemn  vaults  in  contem- 
plation sweet. 

Armed  with  a  lantern  though  the  ooet 
walks, 
Who  dares  upon  those  silent  halls  in- 
trude. 
He  Cometh  not  a  pupil  of  Guy  Faux, 
O'er  treasonable  practices  to  brood 
Within  this  deep  and  awful  solitude ; 
Albeit  Loyola  claims  him  for  a  son, 
Yet/with  the  kindliest  sympathies 
imbued 


For  every  human  thing  heaven  shines 
upon, 
Naught  in  his  bosom  beats  hut  love  and 
benisoD. 

He  knows  nor  cares  not  what  be  other 
men's 
Notions  concerning  orthodox  belief; 
Others  may  seek  theology  in  "  Dens," 
He  in  this  grot  would  rather  take  a 

leaf 
From  Wisdom's  book,  and  of  exist- 
ence brief 
Learn  not  to  waste  in  empty  jars  the 
span. 
If  jars  there  must  be  in  this  vale  of 
grief. 
Let  them  be  full  ones ;  let  the  flowing 
can 
Beign  umpire  of  disputes,  uniting  man 
with  man. 

'Twere  better  thus  than  in  collegiate 
hall, 
Where  wrangling  pedants  and  dull 
ponderous  tomes 
Build  up  Divinity's  dark  arsenal. 
Grope  in  the  gloom  with  controver- 
sial gnomes — 
Geneva's  gospel  still  at  war  with 
Kome's : 
Better  to  bury  discord  and  dissent 
In  the  calm  cellar's  peaceful  cata- 
combs, 
Than  on  dogmatic  bickerings  intent. 
Poison  the  pleasing  hours  for  man's  en- 
joyment meant. 

Doth  yonder  cask  of  Burgundy  repine. 
That  some  prefer  his  brother  of  Boa- 

DEAUX  ? 


558 


TATHEE  PEOUT's  EELTQUES. 


Is  old  Gabuhna  jealous  of  the  Rhine  ? 
Gaul,  of  the  grape  Germanic  vine- 
yards grow  ? 
Doth  Xhees  deem  bright  LACHRrMA 
his  foe? 
On  the  calm  hanks  that  fringe  the  blue 
Moselle, 
On  Leman's  margin,  on  the  plains  of 

Fiire  from  one  common  sky  these  dew- 
drops  fell. 
Hast  thou  preserved  the  juice  in  puritj  ? 
*Tis  well ! 

Lessons  of  love,  and  light,  and  liberty, 
Lurk  in  these  wooden  volumes.  Free- 
dom's code 
Lies  there,  and  pity's  charter.    Poetry 
And  genius    make   their   favourite 

abode 
In  double  range  of  goodly  puncheons 
stowed ; 
Whence  welling  up  freely,  as  from  a 
fount, 
The  flood  of  fancy  in  all  time  has 
flowed, 
Gushing  with  more  exubei&nce,  I  count. 
Than  from  Pierian  spring  on  Greece's 
fabled  mount. 

School  of  Athenian  eloquence  I  did  not 
Demosthenes,  half-tonsuted,  love  to 
pass 
Winters  in  such  preparatory  grot. 
His  topics  there  in  fit  array  to  class. 
And   stores  of    wit   and  argument 
amass  ? 
Hath  not  another  Greek  of  late  arisen, 
Whose  eloquence  partaketh  of  the 
glass. 
Whose  nose  and  tropes  with  rival  ra< 
diancQ  glisten. 
And  unto  whom  the  Peers  night  after 
night  must  listen? 

Say  not  that  wine  hath  bred  dissen- 
sions—wars ; 
Charge  not  the  grape,  calumnious, 
with  the  blame 
Of  murdered  Clytus.    Lapitha,  Cen- 
taurs, 
Drunkards  of  every  age,  will  aye 

defame 
The  innocent  vine  to  palliate  their 
shame. 
O  Thyrsus,  magic  wand  I  thou  mak'st 
appear 


Man  in  his  own  true  colours^vlce 

proclaim 
Its  infamy — sin  its  foul  figure  rear, 
Like  the  recumbent  toad  touched  by  Itba- 
liel's  spear  I 

A  savage  may  the  glorious  sun  revile,* 

And  .jhoot  his  arrows  at  the  god  of 

day; 

Th'  ungrateful  .^thiop  on  thy  hanks,  O 

Nile ! 

With  barbarous  shout  and  insult  may 

repay 
Apollo  for  his  vivifying  ray. 
Unheeded   by    the   god,  whose  fiery 
team 
Prances  along  the   sky's   immortal 
way; 
While  from  hia  brow,  flood-like,  the 
bounteous  beam 
Bursts  on  the  stupid  slaves  who  grace- 
lessly  blaspheme. 

That  savage  outcry  some  attempt  to  ape. 
Loading  old  Bacchus  with   absurd 
abuse ; 
But,  pitying  them,  the  father  of  the 
grape. 
And  conscious  of  their  intellect  ob- 
tuse. 
Tells  them  to  go  (for  answer)  to  the 
juice : 
Meantime  the  god,  whom  fools  would 
fain  annoy, 
Rides  on  a  cask,  and,  of  his  wine  pro- 
fuse. 
Sends  up  to  earth  the  flood  without 
alloy. 
Whence  round  the  general  globe  circles 
the  cup  of  joy. 

Hard  was  thy  fate,  much-injur'd  Ht- 
LASl  whom 
The  roguish  Naiads  of  the  fount  en- 
trapped ; 
Thine    was,  in   sooth,  a   melancholy 
doom — 
In  liquid  robes  for  wint'ry  wardrobe 

wrapped, 
And  "in  Elysium"  of  spring-water 
"  lapped !" 
Better  if  hither  thou  hadst  been  en- 
ticed. 
Where  casks  abound  and  generous 
wine  is  tapped ; 
Thou  would'st  not  feel,  as   now,  thy 
limbs  all  iced, 


•  "  Le  Nil  a  vu  sur  ses  rivagea 

Les  noirs  habitans  des  deserts 
Insulter,  par  de  oris  sauvages, 
L'astre  brillant  de  I'univers. 
Oris  impuissans  I  fureurs  bizarres  1 


Tandis  que  ces  monstres  barbares  . 

Poussent  d'inutiles  clameurs, 
Le  Dieu,  poursuivant  sa  carri^re, 
Verse  des  torrens  de  lumifere 

Sur  ses  obscurs  blasph^mateura." 

Le/ranc  de  Pompignati 


MODEBlf   LATIN  POETS.  559 

Bat  deem  thyself  in  truth  blest  and  im-  Here  would  I  dwell  I  Ohllvioas  I*  aye 

paradised.  shut  out 

Passions  and  pangs  that  plague  the 

A  Itoman  king — the  second  of  the  se-  human  heart, 

ries —             J  Content   to    range   this   goodly    grot 

Ndma,  who  reigned  upon  Mount  Pa-  throughout, 

LATiNB,                              {ria'a;  Loth,  like   the  lotus-eater,   to  de- 
Possessed  a  private  grotto  called  Ege-  part, 
Where,  being  in  .he  legislative  line.  Deeming  this  cave  of  joy  the  genuine 
He  kept  an  oracle  men  deemed  di-  mart; 

vine.  Cellas,  though  dark  and  dreary,  yet 

What  nymph  it  Was  from  whom  his  I  ween 

"  law"  he  got                 [of  wine,  D4p6t   of  brightest    intellect  thou 

None  ever  knew ;  but  jars,  that  smelt  art  1 

Have  lately  been  discovered  in  a  grot  Calm  reservoir  of  sentiment  serene  t 

Of  that  Egeruxn   vale.     Was  this  the  Miscellany  of  mind  I  wit's  OLoaious  ma- 

nymph  ?    God  wot.  gazine  I 

Of  George  Buchanan  Scotland  may  be  justly  proud; 
though  I  suspect  there  exists  among  our  northern  friends  a 
greater  disposition  to  glory  in  the  fame  he  has  acquired  for 
them  than  an  anxiety  to  read  his  works^  of  which  there  was 
never  an  edition  published  on  the  other  side  of  the  great 
wall  of  Antonine  save  one,  and  that  not  until  the  year  1715, 
by  Biuddiman,  in  1  vol.  folio.  The  continental  editions  are 
innumerable.  The  Scotch  have  been  equally  unmiadful  of 
certain  earlier  celebrities,  such  as  John  Holybush,  known 
abroad  by  the  name  of  Sacrobosco,  who  flourished  in  1230 ; 
Duns  Scotus,  who  made  their  name  famous  among  the  Gen- 
tiles in  1300,  and  concerning  whom  a  contemporary  poet 
thought  it  necessary  to  observe — 

"Non  SKorof  a  tenebris  sed  Sicwrof  nomine  dietus, 
A  popvdo  cxtremum  qui  colit  ooeanum." 

Then  there  was  John  Mair,  a  professor  of  Sorbonne,  bom 
among  them  in  1446 ;  not  to  speak  of  Tom  Dempster,  pro- 
fessor at  Bologna,  and  Andrew  Melvia  the  poet,  on  whose 
patronymic  the  following  execrable  pun  was  perpetrated : 


"  Qui  non  mel  sed  fel  non  vinum  das  sed  aoetum 
Quam  male  tarn  belli  nominis  omen  habes." 


As  to  the  Admirable  Orichton,  the  pupil  of  Buchanan,  I 
don't  much  blame  them  for  not  making  a  fuss  about  him,  as 
the  only  copy  of  his  works  (in  MS.)  is  in  my  possession, 
discovered  by  me  in  an  old  trunk  in  Mantua.  ,  To  return  to 
Buchanan,  he  has  taken  the  precaution  of  writing  his  own 

*  "Quittous  oe  lieu  oil  ma  raison  o'enivre." — Bbeauoee. 


500  PATHEE  PBOTJT'S   EBLIQTTE3. 

life,  conscious  that  if  left  to  some  of  nature's  journeymen  it 
would  be  sadly  handled.  Born  in  1506,  in  the  shire  of 
Lennox,  poor  and  penniless,  he  contrived  to  get  over  to 
Paris,  where  having  narrowly  escaped  starvation  at  the  uni- 
versity (the  fare  must  have  been  very  bad  on  which  a  Cale- 
donian could  not  thrive),  he  returned  "bock  agin,"  and 
enlisted  at  Edinburgh  in  a  company  of  French  auxiliaries, 
merely,  as  he  says,  to  learn  "  military  tactics."  He  spent  a 
winter  in  hospital,  which  sickened  him  of  martial  pursuits. 
So  to  Paris  he  sped  on  a  second  spree,  and  contrived  to  get 
appointed  master  of  grammar  at  the  college  of  Ste.  Barbe. 
Here  a  godsend  fell  in  his  way  in  the  shape  of  Kennedy, 
Earl  of  CassUis,  who  brought  him  to  Scotland,  and  intro- 
duced him  at  Court.  James  made  him  tutor  to  one  of  his 
bastard  sons ;  another  being  placed  under  the  care  of  Eras- 
mus. These  lads  were  bom  with  a  silver  spoon  !  Meantime 
Buchanan's  evil  star  led  him  to  lampoon  the  Franciscan 
friars,  at  the  request,  he  says,  of  the  king,  who  detested  the 
fraternity ;  but  it  cost  him  dear.  Were  it  not  for  the  kind 
offices  of  the  young  princess  Mary  (whom  he  subsequentlj 
libelled),  it  would  have  gone  hard  ,with  him.  Be  that  as  it 
may,  he  contrived  to  get  out  of  prison,  fled  from  the  venge- 
ance of  Cardinal  Beaton  into  England,  where  Henry  was 
then  busy  bringing  to  the  stake  folks  of  every  persuasion; 
wherefore  he  crossed  the  Channel,  but  found  Beaton  before 
him  at  Paris  :  so  he  proceeded  to  Bordeaux,  and  met  a 
friendly  reception  from  Andr^  Govea,  the  Portuguese  rector 
of  that  Gascon  university.  'While  in  this  city  he  composed 
the  tragedy  of  Jephtd,  to  discourage  the  foolish  melodrames 
of  that  period  called  "  mysteries,"  of  which  Victor  Hugo 
has  given  such  a  ludicrous  specimen  in  the  opening  chapters 
of  his  Notre  Dame  ;  he  also  presented  a  complimentary  ad- 
dress to  Charles  V.  on  his  passage  from  Madrid  to  Paris. 
Govea  subsequently  took  him  to  Coimbra,  of  which  cele- 
brated academy  he  thus  became  one  of  the  early  promoters. 
But  the  friars,  who  never  yet  lost  sight  of  a  foe,  got  him  at 
last  here  into  the  clutches  of  the  Inquisition  ;  and,  during  a 
long  captivity  in  Banco  St.  Dominici,  he  was  at  leisure  to 
execute  his  glorious  translation  of  the  psalms  into  Latia 
lyrical  verse. 

From  Portugal  he  managed  to  escape  in  a  Turkish  vessel 


MODEEN   LATIN  POETS. 


561 


bound  for  London,  and  tofence  repaired  to  Prance,  for  wHch 
country  he  appears  to  have  had  a  peculiar  predilection.  He 
there  got  ecaployment  as  tutor  in  the  Marechal  Briasac's 
family;  and  meantime  wrote  verses  in  honour  of  every 
leading  contemporary  event,  such  as  the  raising  of  the  siege 
of  Metz,  the  taking  of  Vercelles,  and  the  capture  of  Calais 
by  the  Due  de  G-uise  in  1557.  This  latter  occurrence  is  one 
of  such  peculiar  interest  to  an  English  reader,  and  gives 
Buchanan  such  an  opportunity  of  expressing  his  real  senti- 
ments towards  England,  that  I  have  selected  it  for  transla- 
tion. It  is  strange  that  in  his  autobiography  he  abuses  the 
hero  whom  he  celebrates  in  his  ode,  and  who  was  no  other 
than  the  celebrated  Gruise  le  BalafrS  (so  called  from  a  scar 
on  hia  left  cheek),  whose  statue  may  be  seen  in  our  own 
day  on  the  market-place  of  Calais,  and  whose  military  genius 
and  activity  much  resembled  the  rapid  conceptions  and 
brilliant  execution  of  Buonaparte.  The  allusion  to  the 
prevalent  astrological  mania  at  court  is  quite  characteristic 
of  the  philosophic  poet,  ever  grave  and  austere  even  in  the 
exercise  of  fancy ;  but  the  abuse  lavished  on  the  ex-emperor 
Charles  V.  is  not  a  proof  of  Buchanan's  consistency. 


Ad  Franciee  Regem,  Henricum  IL, 
post  ictos  Caletes,  GlEOBains 
Bttchaita^,  Scotua, 

Non  Parca  fati  conscia,  Inbricee 
Nod  sortie  axis,  sistere  nesciuH, 
Noa  siderum  lapsuB,  sed  unus 
Reium  opifex  moderatur  orbem. 


4ui  terram  inertem  stare  loco  jubet, 
^quor  perennes  volvere  vortices, 
Coelamque  nunc  lucem  ten&bris, 
NuDc  tenebras  variare  luce. 


Qui  temperatse  sceptra  modestiae, 
Dat  et  protervae  froena  auperbire, 
Qui  lachiymis  fcedat  trlumphos, 
£t  lacbrymas  hilarat  triumphis. 


Exempla  longfe  ne  repetatn ;  en!  jacet 
Fractusque  et  exspes,  quern  gremio  suo 
Fortuua  fotum  niiper  omnen 
Per  populos  tumidum  fer*'*»s.t 


Ode  on  the  taking  of  Calais,  addressed 
to  Henry  II.,  King  of  France^  by 
Ghorge  Buchanan. 

Henry  I  let  none  commend  to  thee 
Fatk,  Fortune,  Doom,  or  Destiny, 
Or  Star  in  heaven's  high  canopy^ 

With  magic  glow 
Shining  on  man's  nativity, 

For  weal  or  wo. 

Rather,  0  king !  here  recognise 
A  pROvrDENOB  all  just,  all  wise, 
Of  every  earthly  enterprise 

The  hidden  mover; 
Aye  casting  calm  complacent  eyes 

Down  on  thy  Louvre. 

Prompt  to  assume  the  right's  defencei 
Mercy  unto  the  meek  dispense. 
Curb  the  rude  jawn  of  insolence 

With  bit  and  bridle, 
And  scourge  the  chiel  whose  frankincense 

Burnt)  for  an  idol. 

Who,  his  triumphant  course  amid, 
Who  smote  the  monarch  of  Madrid, 
And  bade  Pavla's  victor  bid 

To  power  farewell? 
Once  Europe's  arbiter,  now  hid 

In  hermit's  cell. 

0    0 


562 


TATHEB  PEOTTT'S  EELIQUES. 


Ijicc-  tu  secundo  flamine  qnem  super 
Felicitatis  vexerat  eequora 
HeDricel  virtus, — neaciisti, 
Umbriferffl  fremitum  procellee. 


Sedpertinaz  hunc  fastus  adhuc  premit, 
Urgetque  pressum,  et  progeniem  sui 
Fiduci&que  pari  tumentem, 
Glade  pari  exagitat  Fhllippiim. 


Te  qui  minorem  te  superis  geris, 
Culpamque  fletu  diluis  agnitam, 
MitiB  parens  placatus  audit, 
£t  Bolitum  cumulat  favoreni , 


Rediutegratac  nee  tibi  gratise 
Obscura  promit  signa.    Sub  algido 
Mox  Capricorno  longa  terras 
Ferpetuis  tenebris  premebat, 


Rigebat  auria  bruma  nivalibus, 

Amnes  a,cuto  constiterant  gelu, 

DeformiB  horror  iucubabat 

Jugerlbus  vidnis  colono. 


At  signa  castris  Fraucus  ut  extulit  . 
Ductorque  Franci  Guizius  agmiuis, 
Arrisit  algeuti  sub  arcto 
Temperies  melioris  aurs. 


Hyems  retuso  lai^uida  spicule 
Vim  mitigavit  frigorifl  asperi, 
Siccis  per  byberaum  serenum 
Mube  cava,  stetit  imber  arvis. 


Ergo  nee  altis  tata  paludibus 
Tiuere  vires  moBnia  Gallicas; 
Nee  arcibuB  tutse  paludes 
Pnecipitem  tenu6re  cursum. 


LoE^NE  princepfl  I  prflscipuo  Dei 
Favore  felix^prfflcipuas  Dens 
Cui  tradidit  partes,  superbos 
Ut  premeres  domitrice  dextr^. 


(JniuB  anni  curriculo  sequens' 
Vix  credet  ffltas  promeritas  tibi 


Thou;  too,  hast  known  misfortune's  blast ; 
Tempests  have  bent  thy  stately  mast. 
And  nigh  upon  the  breakers  cast 

Thy  gallant  ship : 
But  now  the  hiiriicane  is  passed — 

Hushed  is  the  deep. 

For  Philip,  lord  of  Abaoon, 

Of  haughty  Charles  the  haughty  son, 

The  clouds  still  gather  dark  and  dun, 

The  sky  still  scowls ; 
And  round  his  gorgeous  gallebn 

The  tempest  howls. 

Thou,  when  th'  Almighty  ruler  dealt 
The  blows  thy  kingdom  lately  felt^ 
Thy  brow  unhelmed,  unbound  thy  belt, 

Thy  feet  unshod, 
Humblybefore  the  chastener  knelt. 

And  kissed  the  rod. 

Pardon  and  peace  thy  penance  bought ; 
Joyful  the  seraph  Mercy  brought 
The  olive-bougb,  with  blessing  fraught 

For  thee  and  France ; — 
God  for  thy  captive  kingdom  wrought 

Deliverance. 

'Twasdark  and  drear! 'twas  winter's  reignl 
Grim  horror  walked  the  lonesome  plain; 
The  ice  held  hound  with  crystal  chain 

Lake,  flood,  and  rill ; 
And  dismal  piped  the  hurricane 

His  music  shrill. 

But  when  the  gallant  Gmss  displayed 
The  flag  of  Frawce,  and  drew  the  blade, 
Straight  the  obsequious  season  bade 

Its  rigour  cease  ; 
And,  lowly  crouching,  homage  paid 

The  Flbub  db  Lys. 

Winter  his  violence  withheld. 
His  progeny  of  tempests  quelled. 
His  canopy  of  clouds  dispelled, 

Unveil'd  the  sun— 
And_blithesome  days  unparalleled 
1  to  run. 


Twas  then  beleaguered  Calais  found, 
With  swamps  and  marshes  fenced  aronndj 
With  counterscarp,  and  moat,  and  mound/ 

And  yawning  trench. 
Vainly  her  hundred  bulwarks  frowned 

To  stay  the  French. 

Guise !  child  of  glory  and  Lorraine, 
Ever  thine  house  hath  proved  the  bane 
Of  France's  foes  I  aye  from  the  chain 

Of  slavery  kept  her, 
And  in  the  teeth  of  haughty  Spain 

Upheld  her  sceptre. 

Scarce  will  a  future  age  believe 
The  deeds  one  year  saw  thee  achieve 


MODERN   LATIN  POETS. 


563 


Tot  laureas,  nee  si  per  ssthram 

"         a*  veherere  pennft. 


Fame  in  her  narrative  Ehould  give 
Thee  magic  pinions 

To  range,  with  free  prerogative. 
All  earth's  dominions. 

What  were  the  yeai  's  achievements  ?  first^ 
Yon  Alps  their  ban-ier  saw  thee  burst, 
To  bruise  a  reptile's  head,  who  durst, 

With  viper  sting, 
Assail  (ingratitude  accurst !) 

Rome's  Pontiff- King. 

To  rescue  Eome,  capture  Plaisance, 
Make  Naples  yield  the  claims  of  France, 
While  the  mere  shadow  of  thy  lance 

O'erawed  the  Turk : — 
Such  was,  within  the  year's  expanse. 

Thy  journey-work. 

But  Calais  yet  remained  unwon — 

Calais,  stronghold  of  Albion, 

Her  zone  begirt  with  blade  and  gun, 

In  all  the  pomp 
And  pride  of  war ;  fierce  Amazon  ] 

Queen  of  a  swamp  ! 

But  even  she  hath  proven  frail, 
Her  walls  and  swamps  of  no  avail ; 
What  citadel  may  Guise  not  scale. 

Climb,  storm,  and  seize? 
What  foe  before  thee  may  not  quail, 

O  gallant  Guise ! 

Thee  let  the  men  of  England  dread. 
Whom  Edward  erst  victorious  led, 
Right  joyful  now  that  ocean's  bed 

Between  them  rolls 
And  thee !— that  thy  triumphant  tread 

Yon  wave  controls. 

Let  ruthless  Mart  learn  from  hence 

That  Perfidy's  a  foul  offence ; 

That  falsehood  hath  its  recompense ' 

That  treaties  broken. 
The  anger  of  Omnipotence 

At  length  have  woken. 

May  evil  counsels  prove  the  bane 
And  curse  of  her  unhallowed  reign; 
Remorse,  with  its  disastrous  train. 

Infest  her  palace ; 
And  may  she  of  God's  vengeance  drain 

The  brimming  chalice ! 

Every  schoolboy  knows  that  this  event  hroke  Queen  Mary's 
heart,  so  inconsolable  was  she  for  the  loss  of  those  "keys  of 
IVance"  which  the  monarchs  of  England,  from  Edward  to 
the  bluff  Harry,  had  gloried  in  wearing  suspended  to  the 
royal  girdle. 
•  Buchanan  appears  to  have  the  following  verse  of  Hesiod  in  view : 
Ttiv  fiev  nrjyaffoe  siXt  Kai  effOXog  Be\\t(iO<piovTfie,—Theo^. 


Cossere  saltus  ninguidi,  et  Alpium 
Inserta  coelo  culmina,  cum  pater 
Romanns  oraret,  propinquse  ut 
Subjiceres  humeros  ruinse. 


Defensa  Roma,  et  capta  Yalentia, 
Coacta  pacem  Farthenope  pati, 
Fama  tul  Segusianus 
Barbarica  face  Uberatus. 


^quor  procellis,  terra  paludihus, 
Armis  Bait  annus,  moenia  ssecuUs 
Invicta  longis  insolentes 
Munierant  animos  Caletum 


LorsBDa  virtus,  sueta  per  invia 
Non  usitatum  carpere  tramitem, 
Invicta  devincendo,  famam 
Laude  nova  veterem  refellit. 


Perox  Britanwus  virihus  antehac 
Gbllisque  semper  cladibus  imminens, 
Vix  se  putat  securum  ah  hoste 
FluotibuB  Oceanl  diremptus. 


Regina,  pacem  nescia  perpeti 
Jam  spreta  moeret  foedera :  Jam  Dei 
Iram  timet  mox  imminentem 
Vindicis  et  furise  flagellum. 


Huic  luce  terror  Martius  assonat, 

Pirseque  csedis  mens  sibi  conscia, 

TJmbraeque  nocturnsB,quietera 

Terrificis  agitant  figuris. 


StJA  FATHBB  PEOUT*S   B£LIQUEB. 

Of  Buchanan's  career  on  his  return  to  Scotland,  and  his 
conduct  as  a  politician  and  courtier,  I  shall  say  nothing. 
As  a  poet,  his  career  terminated  when  the  gates  of  state 
intrigue  were  thrown  open  to  him,  so  I  bid  him  farewell  on 
the  threshold.  His  Mai<B  Calends,  his  "  Epieeedium  on  the 
death  of  John  Calvin,"  his  poem  Be  Sphcerd,  his  translations 
from  Euripides,  his  elegiac  poetry,  all  his  titles  to  renown 
were  abeady  won.  By  the  way,  John  Milton  has  translated 
his  tragedy  of  Baptistes,  if  we  are  to  credit  Peck.  Certain 
it  is  that  Buchanan's  De  Jure  Regni  apud  Scotos,  a  wonderful 
step  in  radicalism  for  that  day,  was  the  prototype  of  the 
Cromwellian  secretary's  Defensio  pro  Populo  Anglicano.  It 
appears  that  Buchanan  had  some  share  in  the  education  of 
Michel  Montaigne, — a  glorious  feather  in  his  cap,  Crich- 
ton  was  certainly  his  scholar :  and  no  better  proof  of  the  fact 
can  be  afforded  than  the  following  lyric  (from  the  MS.  in  my 
possession),  a  copy  of  which  I  fancy  got  abroad  in  Burns's 
time,  for  he  has  somehow  transferred  the  sentiments  it 
expresses,  most  literally.  However,  it  is  clear  that  Crich- 
ton's  claim  cannot  be  invalidated  by  any  ex  post  facto 
concern.     The  thing  speaks  for  itself. 

Joannein  Andrea filium  anus  uxor      The  old  Housewife's  Address  to  her 
alloquiiur.  Gudeman. 

{From  the  unpuhliahed  3fSS.  of  the  *'adr  {TrariStaUid  wto  hroad  Scotch  hy  Robbbt 

mirable"  Cbichton.)  Burns,  oJ  the  Excise.) 

Seiiex  Joannes!  dulcis  amor  tuee  John  Anderson  ray  jo,  JohD, 
Anilis  tequi  conjugisl  integr^  When  we  were  first  acqiiant, 

C&m  no3  juventa  jungeremur,  Your  locks  were  like  the  raven, 
Qu!iTn  bene  ceesaries  nitebatl  Your  bonnie  brow  was  brent; 

Fronti8  maritoqualis  erat  decor  I  But  now  your  head's  turn'd  bald,  John, 
^unc,  hen  t  nivalis  canities  premit,  Your  locks  are  like  the  snow, 

Nulla}  sed  his  canis  capillia  But  blessings  on  your  frosty  pow, 
Illeccbree  mihi  cariores  t  John  Anderson  my  jo, 

Qnando,  Joannes  m!  bone  !  primitits  John  Anderson  my  jo,  John, 
Ntttura  rerum  finxit  imagines  When  Nature  first  began 

Formam  elaboraVit  virilem,  To  try  her  cannie  hand,  John, 
Hoc  ut  opus  fieret  maeristnim.  Her  master-work  was  man ; 

Sed,  inter  omnes  quas  oplfex  pia  And  you  amang  them  all,  John, 
Struxit  figuras  artifici  manu,  Sae  trig  frae  top  to  toe, 

Curavit  ut  membris  et  ore  She  proved  to  be  nae  joumey-warky 
Nulla  foret  tibi  par,  Joannes  1  John  Anderson  my  Jo. 

Tibi  rosaruro  primitias  dedi,  John  Anderson  my  jo,  John, 

Vemosqne  virgo  Candida  flosculos,  Ye  were  my  first  conceit, 

Nee  fnnte  miraris  quod  illo 
Delicias  repetam  perennea : 


And  ye  need  na  think  it  strange,  Job% 
That  I  ca'  ye  trim  and  neat  f 


MODERN   LATIN   POETS. 


505 


Jam  te  Benilem,  jam  veterem  vocant; 
Venim  nee  illis  credula,  nee  tibi, 
Oblita  vel  menses,  vel  annos, 
Haui'io  perpetuos  amores. 

Ppopago  nobis  orta  parentibus, 
Orevit  remotis  aucta  nepotibus, 
At  nos  in  amborum  calentes 
Usque  sinu  recreamur  ambo ; 
Hyems  amori  nulla  supervenit — 
Verisque  nostri  floret  adhiic  rosa, 
Tibique  perduro  superstes 
Qualis  ei-amnitida  juvent^. 

Patris  Toluptas  quanta  doraesticam 
(Oumcorde  mater  palpitat  intimo) 
Videre  natorum  coronam 
Divitias  humilis  tabernse! 
Videre  natos  reddere  moiibus 
Mores  parentum,  reddere  vultibiis 
Vultus,  et  exemplo  fideles 

Scandere  cum  proavis  Olympum, 

Heu  !  mi  Joannes,  Temporis  alite 

Fenn&  quot  anni,  qnotque  boni  dies 

Utrumque  fugerunt!  puprema 

Jamque  brevi  properabit  hora. — 

Mortis  prehendit  dextera  conjugert 

Non  imparatos,  non  timidos  mori, 

Vit&que  functoa  innocenti, 

Htc  sine  spe  melioris  sevi  1 

VitiB  labores  consociavimus, 
Montana  juncti  vicimus  ardua, 
Et  nunc  potiti  gaudiorura 
Culmine  quid  remoramur  ultrk? 
DextrJs  revinctis,  perque  vias  r«tr6 
Lenes,  petaraus  vallis  iter  senex ! 
Qua  vir  et  uxor  dormiamus 
Unius  in  gremlo  sepulchri. 


Though  some  folks  say  you're  old,  John, 

I  never  think  ye  so, 
But  I  think  you're  aye  the  same  to  me, 

John  Andersott  my  jo. 

John  Anderson  my  jo,  John, 

We've  seen  our  bairnie's  bairns 
And  yet,  my  dear  John  Anderson 

I'm  happy  in  your  arms; 
And  HO  ai'e  ye  in  mine,  John — 

I'm  BUi'e  you'll  ne'er  say  no, 
Though  the  days  are  gane  that  ye  have  seen, 

John  Anderson  my  jo. 

Jolin  Anderson  my  jo,  John, 

What  pleasure  does  it  gie 
To  see  sae  many  sprouts,  John, 

Spring  up  'tween  you  and  me ! 
And  ilka  lad  and  lass,  John, 

In  our  footsteps  to  go. 
Make  perfect  heaven  here  on  earth, 

John  Anderson  my  jo. 

John  Anderson  my  jo,  John, 

Frae  year  to  year  we've  past, 
And  soon  that  year  maun  come,  John, 
•    Will  bring  us  to  our  lastj 
But  let  not  that  affright  us,  John, 

Our  hearts  were  ne'er  our  foe, 
While  in  innocent  delight  we  lived, 

John  Anderson  my  jo. 

John  Anderson  ray  jo,  John, 

We've  clambed  the  hill  togitlier, 
And  monie  a  cantie  day,  \)hn. 

We've  had  wi'  ana  aniti  er. 
Now  we  maun  totter  down,  Jolin, 

But  hand  in  hand  we'll  go, 
And  we'll  sleep  togither  at  the  foot, 

John  Anderson  my  jo. 


"WTien  Harrison  Ainsworth,  then  a  young  writer  of  pro- 
mise, took  up  James  Cricliton  in  place  of  Dick  Turpin,  a 
noble  field  lay  before  him.  I  sketched'  the  plan,  and  pointed 
out  to  him  that  the  story,  in  all  biographies,  of  Crichton's 
having  been  killed  in  a  drunken  brawl  at  Mantua,  by  Duke 
Gronzaga,  on  the  3rd  July,  1583,  was  manifestly  untrue,  as 
there  was,  to  my  knowledge,  at  Paris,  in  the  Bihliotheque  du 
Roi,  a  printed  broadsheet  of  verses  by  him,  on  the  death  of  St, 
Carlo  Borromeo,  who  died  on  the  ^th  November,  1584  (a  fact 
he  was  able  to  verify  by  getting  another  copy  from  Milan). 
iVom  other  sources  I  showed  that  there  were  secret  reasons 
for  his  reported  death,  that  lie  lay  cbncealed  at  Venice  as 


566  FATHEE  peout's  eeliqttes. 

corrector  of  the  press  for  Aldus  Manutius  *  up  to  1585,  was 
made  private  secretary  at  Kome  to  Pope  Peretti  when 
"  Sixtus  Quintus"  hecame  monarch  in  central  Italy,  and  that 
he  was  the  life  and  soul  of  that  great  man's  short  reign ;  I 
had  proof  that  he  was  at  Lisbon  in  1587,  and  that,  in  1588, 
he  sailed  thence  with  his  friend  Lope  de  Yega  on  board  the 
Invincible  Armada,  to  avenge  the  death  of  Mary,  Queen  of 
Scots.  That  his  galleon,  driven  up  the  German  sea  and 
rounding  Scotland,  was  wrecked  in  the  winter  of  that  year 
on  the  coast  of  Ayrshire. 

That  disgusted  vdth  the  triumphant  reign  of  Elizabeth, 
the  revolt  of  the  Low  Countries  from  Spain,  the  edict  of 
Nantes  granted  to  the  Huguenots  by  Henri  Quatre,  and  the 
general  aspect  of  Europe,  he  gave  up  continental  affairs, 
settled  down  as  a  tranquil  farmer,  married  a  highland  lassie, 
and  lived  to  a  good  old  age,  as  evidenced  by  his  well-authen- 
ticated song  of  John  Anderson  my  jo. 

This  startling  narrative  of  what  was  in  some  sort  the  post- 
humous history  of  his  hero,  Ainsworth  did  not  grapple  with, 
but  stopped  at  Paris,  making  him  a  kind  of  fencing-master, 
rope-dancer,  and  court  dandy,  marrying  him  to  some  incre- 
dible princess  of  the  blood,  and  so  forth. 

That  Crichton,  during  his  long  life  in  Ayrshire,  under  an 
humbler  name,  was  author  of  most  of  the  popular  songs  and 
tunes  that  have  enriched  the  Land  o'  Cakes  is  known  to  a 
few  only ;  but  Robert  Burns  was  in  the  secret,  as  the  reader 
has  already  discovered. 

In  1841,  on  returning  from  Hungary  and  Asia  Minor 
by  the  south  of  France,  I  learnt  that  Ainsworth  had  left 
the  tale  of  Crichton  half  told,  and  had  taken  up  with  Blue- 
skin  and  Jack  Sheppard;  Elitches  of  Bacon  and  Lancashire 
Witches,  and  thought  such  things  were  "  literature."  Hence 
this  ballad,  in  which  I  have  endeavoured  to  express  what  I 
know  would  have  been  the  sentiments  of  old  Prout,  in 
language  as  near  his  ovm  as  I  can  command. 

Paris,  Nov.  1,  1859.  P.  M. 

*  The  presses  of  Aldus,  and  Orichton's  share  in  their  efficiency, 
suggest  to  me  the  propriety  of  acknowledging  the  debt  due  by  the  de- 
funct Prout  to  the  keen  and  accurate  supervision  of  Mr.  W.  S.  Bohn 
while  these  sheets  were  in  progress.  Quick  perception,  and  intimate 
acquaintance  with  the  several  languages  used  by  Prout,  rectified  many 
errors,  and  happy  tact  restored  bis  text  in  many  passages. 


THE   BED-BEEAST   OF  AQtriTANIA. 


567 


THE  EED-BEEAST  OE  AQTJITANIA. 


AN  HUMBLE  BALLAD. 


"  Are  not  two  sparrows  sold  for  a  farthing  ?  yet  not  one  of  them  shall 
fall  to  the  ground  without  your  Father." — St.  Matthew,  a.  29. 

"  G-allos  ab  Aquitauis  Granimna  flumen." — Jtjlitjs  Cjesae. 
"  Sermons  in  stones,  and  good  in  ererything." — Shakspeee. 

"  Genius,  left  to  shiver 
On  the  bank,  'tis  said. 
Died  of  that  cold  river." — ^ToM  Moobe. 


River  trip 
from  Thou- 
louse  10 
BourdeiiuK. 
Thermume- 
ter  at  "0. 
Snow  1  foot 
and  a  lialf 
deep.    Use 
of  woodea 
■hoes. 


Oh,  'twas  bitter  cold 
As  our  steam-boat  roll'd 
Down  the  pathway  old 

Of  the  deep  G^aronne, — 
And  the  peasant  lank, 
While  his  sabot  sank 
In  the  snow-olad  bank, 

Saw  it  roU  on,  on. 


f™ol'..iba.  'Twas  a  stranger  drest 
troas  of  that  In  a  downv  vest, 

"'"  'Twas  a  wee  Red-breast, 

(Sot  m."  AUatross,") 

But  a  wanderer  meek. 

Who  fain  would  seek 

O'er  the  bosom  bleak 

Of  that  flood  to  cross. 


aiDcient  ma- 
Tiaer  oLde 
Coleridge, 
but  a  poore 
robin. 


¥.  Gascon    Arirl  he  hied  him  home      ^'  "po""" 

.  farmer  hieth  ZI~^ .  .      ,       ,  croaBinpf  ya 

to  his  cot-      'Xo  his  tolt  ae  Chaume  y         river  niaketb 

Sfnhe'i'h'a    And  for  those  who  roam  hJ!»''e°of  thY 
«»»son  oe        On  the  broad  bleak  flood  fire-ship. 
Cared  he?  Not  a  thought; 
For  his  beldame  brought 
His  wine-flask  fraught 
With  the  grape's   red 
'blood. 
He  warmeth  ^|j  tj,e  wood-block  bla^e 

hiH  colli  .„.,,.  , 

sbinn  at  a     Fed  his  Vacant  gaze 
oSSd'f  A'w  As  we  trod  the  maze 

faiui. 


Of  the  river  down. 
Soon  we  left  behind 
On  the  frozen  wind 
All  farther  mind 

Of  that  vacant  clown. 

Te  Father    '^^xt  there  came  anon, 
"itlfl^-"'    Aa  we  joumey'd  on 
?a"V<^  Down  the  deep  Garoime, 
biril.  An  acquaintaney, 

Which  we  deem'd,  Icount, 
Of  more  high  amoimt. 
For  it  oped  the  fount 
Of  sweet  sympathy. 


Delusive 
hope.    Y« ' . 
fire-ship 
runnel  ii  10 
bnota  an 
hour;  'tis 
no  KO  for  y« 
sparrow. 


Y"  byrde  is 

led  a  wilde 
goose  chace 
adovn  y« 
river. 


And  we  watch'd  him  oft 
As  he  soar'd  aloft 
On  his  pinions  soft. 

Poor  wee  weak  thing. 
And  we  soon  could  mark 
That  he  sought  our  bark, 
As  a  resting  ark 

For  his  weary  wing. 

But  the  bark,  fire-fed. 
On  her  pathway  sped, 
.And  shot  far  arhead 

Of  the  tiny  bird. 
And  quicker  in  the  van 
Her  swift  wheels  ran. 
As  the  quickening  fan 

Of  his  winglets  stirr'd. 

Vain,  vain  pursuit ! 
Toil  without  fruit ! 
For  his  forkM  foot 

Shall  not  anchor  there, 
Tho'  the  boat  meanwhile 
Down  the  stream  beguile 
For  a  bootless  mile 

The  poor  child  qiaiil 


568 


PATHEB  PEOUT's   EELIQUES. 


between 
3  itooU. 


orSift"  -A^d  'twas  plain  at  last 
'Ti.  meiM-  He  was  flaggine  fast. 
That  ni3  hour  had  past 

In  that  effort  vain ; 
Par  from  either  bank, 
Sans  a  saving  plank, 
Slow,  slow  he  sank, 
ITor  uprose  again. 


Hort  of  ya 
birde. 


And  the  cheerless  wave 
Just  one  ripple  gave 
As  it  oped  Irnn  a  grave 

In  its  bosom  cold, 
And  he  sank  alone. 
With  a  feeble  moan, 
In  that  deep  Garonne, 

And  then  all  was  told. 


« ,°J  hSm  B"t  oiii'  pilot  g«y 

weepeth  for  Wiped  a  tear  away  ; 
'ii'y?Cay  o"  In  the  bvoad  Bisoaye 
BiiMye.  He  had  lost  his  boy ! 

That  sight  brought  back 
On  its  furrow'd  track 
The  remember'd  wreck 
Of  long  perish'd  joy  ! 


Condole' 
■nee  or  yi 


And  the  tear  half  hid 


ladyes',  eke  In  soft  Beauty's  hd 
%ifa":Z  stole  forth  unhid 


legire.  pgj.     that     red  -  breast 

bird  ; — 
And  the  feeling  crept, — 
For  a  Warrior  wept ; 
And  the  silence  kept 
Pound  no  fitting  word. 

oide  Paiher  Bq^  /  mused  alone. 
For  I  thought  of  one 
Whom  I  well  had  known 

In  my  earlier  days, 
Of  a  gentle  mind. 
Of  a  soul  refined. 
Of  deserts  design'd 
For  the  Palm  of  Praise. 


of  Lyfe'™l  ■^"'^  '"^^  woidd  it  Seem 
youngeman  That    o'er    Life's     dark 
t!S!"  "°-  stream,  ' 

Easy  task  for  Him 

In  his  flight  of  Fame, 
Was  the  Skyward  Path 
O'er  the  billow's  wrath. 
That  for  Genius  hath 
Ever  been  the  same.    , 

?y?hfi.  ^»d  I  saw  him  soar 
y"  atreame.  From  the  morning  shore, 
While  hisfresh  wings  bore 
Him  athwart  the  tide, 
Soon  with  powers  unspent 
As  he  forward  went, 
His  wings  he  had  bent 
On  the  sought-for  side. 

fee°7.fle°?b   ^ut  while  thuB  he  flew, 
uiB  eye  from  Lo !  a  vision  new 
cbiauce! '    Caught  his  wayward  view 
With  a  semblance  fair. 
And  that  new-found  wooer 
Could,  alas !  allure 
From  his  pathway  sure 
The  bright  cMld  of  air. 

Tpjiabiiiiie  j-or  he  turn'd  aside, 
ofpurpose  a  .      ,      ^  ,,      x-  t 

fataii  evyll    And  Eidown  the  tide 
i»iJf=-        For  a  brief  hour  pUed 


Proutte 
sadly  mO' 
ralizetb 
anent  ye 
birde. 


This  is  ys 

morall  of 

Father 

Proitt'B 

humble 

batiade. 


His  yet  unspent  force. 
And  to  gain  that  goal 
G«ve  the  powers  of  soul 
Which,  unwasted,  whole, 

Had  achieved  his  course. 


A  bright  Spirit,  young, 
TTnwept,  unsung. 
Sank  thus  among 

The  drifts  of  the  stream; 
Not  a  record  left, — 
Of  renown  bereft. 
By  thy  cruel  theft, 

O  DEi,ugrvi:  sBSAU. 


THE   LEGEND    OE   AEETHTJSA.  569 

L'ENVOY  TO  W.  H.  AINSWOETH,  ESQ. 

wbiilo^b,  authoe  op  the  admieablb  "  crichton,"  subsequent  chrohlclae  0» 
"jack  SHEPPAEO." 

wSe'by      Thus  sadly  I  thought 
waxiiBiu  In    As  that  bird  unsought 
OaKuii'iit  a't  The  remembrance  brought 
sT,L%Ti:        Of  thy  bright  day ; 
And  I  penn'd  full  soon 
This  Dirge,  •while  the  moon 
On  the  broad  Graronne 
Shed  a  wintry  ray. 

R  M. 

THE  LE&END  OP  ABETHUSA. 

To  THE  RlQHT  HONOUBABLB  ArETHDSA,  M R  G W. 

A  SHEPHEEDESS  of  Arcadie, 

In  the  days  hight  olden, 
Eed  her  white  flock  close  to  the  sea  ; 

'Twas  the  age  caUed  golden. 

That  age  of  gold !  yet  nought  ayailed 

To  save  from  rudeness, 
To  keep  unsullied — unassailed 

Such  gentle  goodness. 

The  calm  composure  of  a  life 

Till  then  unchequered, 
What  rude  attempt  befell  ?  'tis  rife 

In  Orid's  record. 

Poor  shrinking  maid — despairing,  left 

Without  reliance ; 
Of  brother's,  father's  aid  bereft. 

She  called  on  Dian's. 

"  Queen  of  the  spotless  !  quick,  decree 

The  boon  I  ask  you ! 
To  die — ere  I  dishonoured  be  I 

Speed  to  my  rescue." 

Sudden  beneath  her  footsteps  oped 

The  daisied  meadow ; 
The  passionate  arms  that  wildly  groped, 

Ctrasped  but  a  shadow. 

Forth  from  the  soil  where  sank  absorbed 

That  crystal  virgin. 
Gushed  a  bright  b.rook— pure,  imduturbed— 

With  pebbly  mavgisi 


670  TAXHEE  PEOn'S   EElIQrKS. 

And  onward  to  the  eea-shore  sped, 

Its  eoiirse  fnlfillmg ; 
GUI  the  ^gean's  briny  bed 

Took  the  bright  rill  in. 

When  lo !  was  wrought  for  aye  a  theme 

Of  special  wonder ; 
Fresh  and  untainted  ran  that  stream 

The  salt  seas  under. 

Proof  against  every  wave's  attempt 

To  interfuse  it ; 
IVom  briny  mixture  stiU,  exempt, 

It  flowed  pellucid. 

And  thus  it  kept  for  many  a  mile 

Its  pathway  single  j 
Current,  in  which  nor  gall  nor  guilo 

Could  ever  mingle. 

And  all  day  long  with  onward  march 

The  streamlet  glided ; 
And  when  night  came,  Diana's  torch 

The  wanderer  guided  j 

Tin  unto  thee,  sweet  Sicily, 

!From  doubt  and  danger, 
EVom  land  and  ocean's  terrors  free. 

She  led  the  stranger ; 

And  there  gushed  forth,  the  pride  and  vaunt 

Of  Syracusa, 
The  bright,  time-honoured,  glorious  fount 

Of  Arethusa. 

O  ladye,  such  be  thy  career, 

Such  be  thy  guidance ; 
Prom  every  earthly  foe  and  fear 

Such  be  thy  riddance ! 

Safe  from  the  tainted  evil  tongue 

Of  foes  insidious ; 
Brineless  the  bitter  waves  among 

Of  "  friends"  perfidious. 

Such  be  thy  life — Uve  on,  live  on ! 

Nor  oouldst  thou  choose  a 
Name  more  appropriate  than  thine  own, 

Fair  Arethusa ! 

F.  If. 


THE   LADTE    OF   LEE — LIFE,   A  BUBBLE.  571 


THE  LADTB  OF  LEE. 

There's  a  being  bright,  whose  beams 

Light  my  days  and  gild  my  dreams, 

Till  my  life  all  sunshiae  seems— 'tis  the  ladye  of  Leo. 

Oh !  the  joy  that  Beauty  brings, 

While  her  merry  laughter  rings. 

And  her  voice  of  silTer  sings— Uuw  slie  loves  but  me ! 

There's  a  grace  in  every  limb. 

There's  a  charm  in  every  whijin, 

And  the  diamond  cannot  dim — the  dazzling  of  her  e'e  i 

But  there's  a  light  amid 

All  the  lustre  of  her  hd, 

That  from  the  crowd  is  hid — and  only  I  can  see. 

'Tis  the  glance  by  which  is  shown 

That  she  loves  but  me  alone  ; 

That  she  is  all  mine  own— this  ladye  of  Lee. 

Then  say,  can  it  be  wrong, 

If  the  burden  of  my  song 

Be,  how  fondly  I'll  belong  to  this  ladye  of  Lee  ? 


LIFE,  A  BUBBLE.— A  BIED'S-EYE  VIEW  THEREOF. 

La  pluie  au  baBsla  fait  des  buUes ;  Down  comes  rain  drop,  bubble  follows  ; 

Les  hirondelles  Bur  le  toit  On  the  house  top  one  hy  one 

Tienneut  des  conclliabules  Flock  the  synagogue  of  swallows, 

Voici  rhiver  1  void  le  froid !  Met  to  vote  that  autumn's  gone. 

Elles  s'assemblant  par  centaines.  There  are  hundreds  of  tbem  sitting, 

Se  concertant  pour  le  depart.  Met  to  vote  in  unison ; 

L'und  dit,  Oh  que  dans  Ath^nes  They  resolve  on  general  flitting. 

11  fait  bon  sur  le  vieux  rempart.  "  I'm  for  Athens  off,"  says  one. 

Tous  les  ans  j'y  vais,  et  je  niche  "  Every  year  my  place  is  filled  in 

Aux  metopes  du  Parthenon;  Plinth  of  pillared  Parthenon, 

Mon  nld  bouche  dans  la  comiche  Where  a  ball  has  struck  the  building, 

Le  trou  d'un  boulet  de  canon.  Shot  from  Turk's  besieging  gun." 

L'antre,  J'ai  ma  petite  chambre  "As  for  me,  I've  got  my  chamber 

A  Srayme  au  plafond  d'un  caf^ ;  O'er  a  Smyrna  coffee-shop, 

Les  Hadjis  comptent  leur  grains  d'ambre     Where  his  beadroU,  made  of  amber, 

Sur  le  seuil  d'un  rayon  chauff§,  Hadji  counts,  and  sips  a  drop." 

Celle  ci,  J'habite  un  trlgllphe  "  I  prefer  Palmyra's  scantlings, 

Au  fronton  d'un  temple  a  Baalbec,  Aiohitraves  of  lone  Baalbec, 

Je  m'y  suspends  par  ma  griffe  Perched  on  which  I  feed  my  bantlings 

Sur  mes  petits  a  large  beo.  As  they  ope  their  bonnie  beak." 

A  la  seconde  cataracte.  While  the  last,  to  tell  her  plan,  says, 

Dit  la  derniftre,  j'ai  mon  nid,  "  On  the  second  cataract 

J'en  ai  not^  la  place  exacte,  I've  a  statue  of  old  Ramses, 

Dans  le  con  d'un  roi  de  granit.  And  his  neck  is  nicely  crack  d. 

Theo.  Gautiee,  19m  Sept.  Mmiteur.    20tt  Sept.  Globe.  F.  M. 


INDEX. 


A. 

Abelard,  on  the  mistletoe,  279. 
Adrian's  death-song,  new  version  of,  112. 
Aerolite,  the  Blarney  Stone  an,  according 

to  Lardner,  65. 
Alnswortb,  author  of  "  Rookwood,"  403, 

519,  569. 
Anacreon,  226. 

Andrds,  "  Storia  di  ogni  Letteratura/'  290. 
Angel  (the)  of  PoeU-y,  to  L.E.L.,  313. 
Animal  spiritB,  378. 
Anne  Chovy  a  heroine,  20. 
Anne  (Queen)  accused  of  tippling,  258. 
Arachn^  the  nymph,  Ireland  compared  to, 

121. 
Ariouto  quoted,  48. 
Aristotle  quoted,  63. 
AriBtophanes  quoted,  296. 
AuBonius  cited,  108. 
Autobiography  the  rage,  301 ;  that  of  B^ 

ranger,  ib. 
Avignon,  seat  of  the  muses,  208;  of  the 

liopedom,  t&. ;  visited  by  Frout,  324. 

B. 
Bacon  an  admirer  of  Jesuit  colleges,  179. 
Barcarolle,  "  O  pescator,"  355. 
Barry  the  painter,  321,  489,  498. 
Bellev  (Jack),  editor  of  the  "Cork  Chro- 
nicle," 75;  his  song,  88. 
Bells— the  "  Shandon  Bell8,y  159 ;  Victor 

Hugo  on  the  bells  of  Paris,  158. 
Benedict  XIV.  (Prosper  Lambertinl)  sends 

Voltaire  his  blessing,  321. 
B^ranger,  eulogy  of,  210. 

Song  of  Brennus,  ib. 

Song  of  the  Cossack,  214. 

Ode  to  Lardner,  221. 

Song  of  Diogenes,  223. 

Le  Pigeon  Measager,  224 

The  Dauphin's  Birth-day,  241. 

BecoUections  of  Bonaparte,  248. 

The  Tri-coloured  Flag,  251. 

The  Painter's  Funeral,  a  Poem,  270' 

Les  Etoiles  qui  filent,  281. 

Les  Boh^miens,  293. 

liB  Dieu  des  bonnes  Gens,  297. 

Le  Grenier,  299. 

Le  railleur  et  la  F^e,  301. 

L*Aiige  evl6, 313. 


Beza,  Theodore,  550 ;  lines  by,  553. 

Black  broth,  16. 

Black  earth,  fiehatva  xOav  (Melancthon), 
86. 

Black  Prince,  13. 

Blarney,  Castle  of,  35 ;  plundered  by  the 
Danes,  87 ;  song  of  Jack  Bellew  there- 
upon, 88 ;  stormed  by  Oliver  Cromwell, 
as  per  song,  100. 

Blarney,  Groves  of,  in  English,  French, 
Greek,  Latin,  and  Irish,  56;  a  contro- 
verted point  in  the  song,  84. 

Rlarney  Stone,  true  liistory  of,  50. 

Blessiugton  (Lady),  her  "Conversations 
of  Byron,"  31. 

Blindman's  buff,  origin  of,  265. 

Blom field,  Bishop,  1. 

Boethius  de  Consolatione  Philosophic^, 
203. 

Boileau  quoted,  109. 

Bonaparte,  "Popular  Recollections  of," 
248;  «  Flight  of,"  356. 

Boscovlch,  his  workH,  180 ;  his  wig,  338. 

Bowring  (Dr.),  knight-errantry  of,  201, 
202. 

Brennus,  song  of,  on  planting  the  vine  in 
Gaul,  210;  ancestor  of  the  O'Brennana^ 
ib. 

Brougham,  Henry,  initiated  at  Blarney, 
65;  disputes  with  Provit  on  drunken- 
ness, 113 ;  his  letter  to  Lord  Lyndhurst, 
Nov.  1834, 132 ;  his  modesty  at  tlie  Tui- 
leries,  161. 

Buchanan,  George,  661. 

Buffon,  14 ;  cosmogony  of,  264. 

Bulwer  (E.),  takes  to  pamphleteering, 
843. 

Burke  (Edmund),  on  fisheries,  323 ;  the 
"  protector"  of  Barry,  497 ;  on  children, 
500. 

Byron  cited,  2,  9,  29,  361,  373,  377,492; 
his  HebreTT  Melodies,  344. 


GeeBar*B  Commentaries,  84 ;  his  statue,  89. 

Callaghan  (Terry),  his  character,  73 ;  his 
song,  100;  brings  "the  chest"  to  I^on- 
doa,  104 ;  is  made  a  policeman  througk 
FearguB  O'Connor,  M.P.,  233. 


INDEX. 


573 


CalvinistB  popalar  at  Billingsgate,  12. 

Campbell  (Tom)  bound  in  Morocco,  343; 
his  Becond  sight,  346. 

Campbell,  his  "Hohenlinden"  done  into 
Latin,  P2. 

Carew,  M.>Uy  (Ang.  et  Lat.),  487. 

Carnival  and  Ash  Wednesday,  3. 

Cervantes  fought  at  Lepanto,  853. 

Charlemagne,  capitularies  of,  217. 

Charles  V.  visits  the  tomb  of  Bachelen, 
the  first  herring-barreller,  21. 

Charles  XII.  of  Sweden,  his  portrait  in 
Blarney  Castle,  90. 

Chateaubriand  (Comtesse  de),  her  song, 
"  Va  ou  la  gloire  t'invite,"  147 ;  le  Vi- 
comte  de,  a  poem  by,  256. 

Chaucer,  and  Froissart,  239;  copies  from 
Petrarch,  240;  complaint  ofj24l;  Gri- 
seldis,  245. 

Chrysostom,  his  'remark  in  preaching 
from  a  ship,  81 ;  is  abused  by  Tom 
Moore,  144;  breaks  out  in  fine  style, 
204;  an  elegant  metaphor  from,  83. 

Cicero,  104 ;  a  plagiarist,  136 ;  quoted,  235, 
290,  263,  304,  315. 

Corbet,  the  great  Munster  dentist,  78; 
resembles  Scarron  and  Cadmus,  ib. ; 
song,  "the  Ivory  Tooth,"  93. 

Cornelius  a  Lapide,  6,  135,  169,  177,  181, 
200,  501. 

Cresswell,  Frank,  his  forced  observance  of 
Lent,  5. 

GresBwell,  Lady,  4. 

Crichton,  the  Admirable,  519,  564,  565. 

Crofton  Croker  well  acquainted  with 
Watergrasshill,  5 ;  discovers  the  ety- 
mology of  "  Blarney,"  35  ;  also  the  like- 
ness of  a  fried  egg  to  a  daisy.  99 ;  ac- 
count of  Shandon  steeple,  by,  159. 

Cromwell,  a  canting  thief,  358;  storms 
Blai-ney  Castle,  56, 100. 

Crusades,  43,  207. 

D. 

Oagobert,  song  about,  217  ;   educated  in 

Ireland,  218. 
Danae,  lament  of,  130.  i 

Dante  dissaaded  by  the  monks  of  Bobbio 

from  writing  in  Latin,  323;    his  "Porch 

of  Hell,"  336;  his  terza  rinuij  335. 
Danube,  lines  on  the,  47. 
Dauphin,  why  so  called,  16  ;  in  usum  Del- 

phini,  Jesuits'  editions,  176;    song  on 

the  Dauphin's  birth.day,  241. 
David  the  painter,  a  regicide,  270;  the 

funeral  of,  a  poem  by  B^ranger,  ib. 
Deane,  Sir  Thomas,  knight  and  builder, 

87,89. 
De  laVigne  (Casimir),  his  "Dog  of  the 

Three  Days,^'  a  ballad,  277. 
Democritus  cited,  114. 
Demosthenes  quoted,  347. 
Denis  (St.)  walked  headless  five  miles,  288. 
Denis  Diderot,  Denis  Lardner,  Denis  the 

critic,  Dionysius  HalicarnaBsenBie,  288, 


Diderot  sow  no  difference  between  himself 
and  dog  but  the  clothes,  267,  279. 

Diogenes,  song  of,  about  his  tub  and  his 
lantern,  223. 

DionysiuB,  tyrant  of  CmXy,  a  song  about, 
221. 

Dowden,  inventor  of,  "pyroligneousacid," 
his  opinions,  75 ;  his  song,  96 ;  his  so- 
briety, 113. 

Doyle  of  Carlow  (J.  K.  L.),  (106. 

Di'ink,  five  reasons  why  people  should, 
205. 

Drunkenness,  113. 

Dryden,  a  sad  fellow,  358;  why  called 
glorious,  ih. 

Duncombe  (Tom)  and  Jack  Reeve,  224. 

DupuiB,  "  Oi'igine  des  Cultes,"  par,  266, 
absurdity  of,  ib. 


E. 

Eggs,  praise  of,  98. 

Elizabeth,  her  statute  on  fish-diet,  11. 

Eloy,  St.,  a  tinker  and  poet,  218. 

Epictetus  quoted,  48. 

Erasmus,  his  opinion  on  Patrick's  purga- 
tory, 48;  pun  on  his  name,  86;  his 
averaion  to  clerical  idlers,  87, 

Eustace  (Rev.  John  Chetwode),  his  Clas 
sical  Tour,  317. 


Father  Tom,  499. 

Fathers,  Moore's  attack  on  the.  143. 

Fiddler's  (the  French)   Lamentation,   a 

song,  276. 
Filicaia's  Italia!  Italia  1   "To  prostrate 

Italy,"  330;  II  Mose  di  Michel  Angelo: 

"  Statue,  whose  giant  limbs,"  332. 
Fishei'mau,  Masaniello  a,  20 ;  the  Apostles 

were  fishermen,  10 ;  "  O  pescator,"  865. 
Fouipdling  Hospital  at  Cork,  reflectioua 

on,  125. 
Fracastor,  Jerome,  546. 
France,  Front's  travels  through,  5,  108, 

204;   language  of,  how  essential,  236; 

influence  of  French  writers  on  those  of 

England,  ib. ;    Songs  of,  201,  231,  257, 

287 ;  adieu  to  the  Songs  of,  313. 
Free-trade,  theory  of,  292. 
Frogs,  French  food,  12;  quotation  from 

Aristophanes,  266. 
Froissart  a  priest,  239 ;  sketch  of,  ib. 


GanganelU  a  rogue,  186,  320;  interview 

with,  509. 
Garret  (the)  of  B^ranger,  299. 
Gaul,  lauding  of  the  Fhoceans  in  Gallia 

Narbonensis  described,  291 ;  planting  oi 

the  vine  in,  210. 
Geese,  a  panegyric  on,  283. 
Germanic    confederacy   of    quacks    aud 

dunces,  344. 


674 


INDEX. 


God  (the),  of  Stranger,  a  deistical  poem, 
297. 

Goderich  (Lord),  known  as  a  goose,  189. 

GoldBmith  in  France,  205 ;  robs  a  French- 
man, 237 ;  and  a  French  lady,  Madm. 
Blaise,  ib. 

Good  dry  Lodgings,  a  song  by  Diogenes^ 

Griselda,  ori^nal  Norman  ballad  of,  245. 
Guy  f  Arezzo^  his  narrative,  349. 
Gypsies,  political  economy  of  the,  a  song^ 
by  Stranger,  293. 


H. 
Hardonin's  discoverieSj  138;  139;  and  Ms 

epitaph,  140. 
Hastings,  battle  of,  13. 
Hayes  (Joe),  master-spirit  of  the  Glen 

distillery,  72;  his  worm  never  dies,  zb. 
Herbert,  his  Nimrod,  145. 
Herbert;  George,  430. 
Herrings — laJoumSe  des  Tiarengs,  13;  sale 

of,  in   Greece,  17;    warlike  food,  20; 

foundation  of  Amsterdam  laid  on  her- 
ring-hones, 21. 
Homer  quoted,  39,  66,  80, 108, 220, 247, 263. 
Horace,  Songs  of,  370,  393,  415,  435,  459. 
Horace  cited,  9, 12, 18,  63,  79,  97,  102, 126, 

131,  139, 184,  201,  318,  822,  327,  397, 550. 
Hudibras,  16. 
Huns,  cookery  of  the,  15 ;  king  of  the,  215, 

318. 
Hasa  (John),  anecdote  concerning,  289. 


Irish  exports,  their  chief  item,  25. 

Irish  names,  75. 

Italy,  Songs  of,  315,  342. 

J. 

James  I.,  a  patron  of  Scotch  berrings,  11. 

Jeffers,  Lady,  35. 

Jerome  (St.)  quoted,  136,  238. 

Je&nits,  massacre  of,  at  Madrid,  164;  ever 
in  hot  water,  165;  not  understood  by 
Robertson,  168;  Cerutti'a  "Apologia," 
171 ;  Gresset's  "  Adieux,"  172 ;  founded 
by  an  old  soldier,  173 ;  Instituivm  Soc. 
Jem,  175 ;  rapid  progress  of,  176 ;  dis- 
tinguishable horn  other  monks,  ib. ;  ratio 
atudicrum,  178;  thoir  pupils,  179;  their 
learned  men,  180,  182 ;  their  ill-treat- 
ment, 183;  their  missions,  !&.;  conduct 
during  the  plague  at  Marseilles,  185; 
fell  like  the  Templars,  183 ;  defence  of, 
609. 

Juvenal  cited,  18,  203,  236, 345. 


K. 

Kidnappers,  cat-o' -nine-tail-villains,  135. 

KingsborougU's  (Visct.)  "  Mexican  Anti- 
quities," 344 ;  mulberry  plantation  on 
estate  of,  517. 


Knapp,  mayor  of  Cork,  a  foe  to  mad  dog^ 
38;  theknappTs  sack,  86;  Front's  fos. 
ter.brother,  155. 

L. 

Ladies,  three  cheers  for  the,  5. 

Lake  Leman,  its  attractions,  551. 

Lamartine,  a  poem  by,  oa  the  exile  of 
Manoel,  272, 

Lame  heroes  and  writers,  175. 

Landon  (Miss),  gives  her  name  to  a  frozen 
lake,  133 ;  lines  addressed  to,  314. 

Lardner  (Dr  Denis),  a  compiler,  31;  a 
man  of  letters,  50,  83 ;  never  visited 
Blarney,  63;  his  purgatory,  66;  his 
tract  on  the  potato,  83 ;  ideas  on  astro- 
nomy, 132';  B^ranger'B  Ode  to,  221. 

Larry,  "The  night  before  Larry  was 
stretched,"  a  song,  267. 

Laura,  Front  in  love  with,  346. 

Lee,  Nat,  the  dramatist,  114.{ 

Leipsic,  the  annual  book-fair  of,  342. 

Lent,  apology  for,  9 ;  old  as  Tertullian,  10 ; 
traced  to  Lentulus,  18. 

Leonidas,  not  president  of  a  beef-steak- 
club,  17. 

Lepanto,  song  on  the  battle  of,  363. 

Literary  renegades,  punishment  for,  368. 

Loyola  (Don  Igna9lo  de),  an  old  soldier, 
has  a  leg  shattered  at  Fampeluna,  173 ; 
his  chivalrous  vigil  at  Montserrat,  174  * 
lame  heroes,  175. 

Lmcan  (^I^arsdlia,  v.  28),  208. 

Lucretius  quoted,  114. 

M. 
Macrohlns  quoted,  81. 
Madness,  thoughts  on,  110 ;  mad  authors, 

115. 
Maginn,  Dr.,  a  literary  embalmer,  516. 
Malbrouck,  song  of,  219;  effect!*  of,  on 

South  Sea  Islanders,  221. 
Marchangy,  "laGaule  Pofitique,"  206. 
Margaret,  Front's  servant,  72 ;   song  in 

honour  of,  98 ;  makes  the  punch   too 

strong,  345. 
Marot  (Clement),  poem  by,  253. 
Marseillais  hymn,  original  of,  253.]' 
Martial  qnoted,  81. 

Martineau,  Harriet,  able  to  defend  her- 
self, 141. 
Masaniello,  20. 

Mazarin,  a  saying  of  Cardinal,  287. 
Medical  theories  in  verse,  546,  547. 
Meiancthon's  real  name,  86. 
Mensini's  "  II  Capro,"  "There's  a  goat  in 

the  vineyard  I"  359. 
Michel  Angelo,  his  "Statue  of  Moses,". 

his  "Farewell  to  Sculpture,"  " «;  cro- 

cifisBo,"  366. 
Miller  (Joe),  Josephus  MoUtor,  213. 
Millevoye, a  true  poet, 264;  "La  Chute 

des  Feuilles,"  255 ;  "  Friez  pour  moi,'" 

a  ballad,  227. 
Modern  Latin  poets,  513. 
Moore's  "  Let  Erin  remember  the  dnys  of 


INDEX. 


575 


old,"  a  translation  from  Front,  95 ;  hia 
rogueries,  135 ;  his  "  Travels  in  Search 
of  Religion/'  143  ;  attack  on  "  the  Fa- 
thers," 144;  his  visits  to  Blarney,  146 ; 
"  dp  where  glory  waits  thee,"  from  the 
French,  147 ;  "  O  'twas  all  but  a  dream," 
fh>m  ditto,  149 ;  "  Lesbia  hath  a  beam- 
ing eye,"  from  the  Latin,  with  a  portrait 
of  Moore,  taken  in  flagrante  delicto,  150 ; 
"  The  Shamrock/'  from  the  French,  154 ; 
"Wreath  the  bowl/'  from  the  Greek, 
156;  his  "History  of  Ireland,"  343;  roba 
Petrarca,  827;  "appropriates"  i-iorace, 
430;  robs  Fontenelle.  545. 

More  (Sir  T.),  his  joke  on  Erasmus,  87 ; 
his  poetry,  166. 

Morgan  (Lady)  and  Puckler  Muskaw,  165 : 
her  « Italy/'  318. 

MuUins  (Denny),  patriot  and  breeches- 
maker,  the  Aristides  of  Cork,  171, 


N. 
Nebuchadnezzar,  statue  of,  €0,  89. 
Nicodemo  Lermil,  a  Milanese  Foet,  his 

song  on  the  Battle  of  Waterloo,  356. 
Nights  passed  in  study,  310, 345. 
Noctes  Atticee,  345. 
Noll,  old,  a  canting  thief,  358;    storms 

Blarney  Castle,  56,  100. 
Normans,  a  glorious  race,  244 ;  terror  they 
spread,  247. 


O. 

O'Brien  (Henry),  his  various  acquire- 
ments, 141;  his  death  and  character, 
162. 

O'Connell  gotno  rint  from  Watergrasshill, 
73  ;  an  enemy  to  poor-laws,  137 ;  advo- 

.  ca.teB a.  gva.ninational cemetery in'Duhlm, 
128  J  denounced  by  Doyle,  106  ;  resem- 
bles Wood,  of  copper  celebrity,121 ;  his 
«  Abbey,"  299. 

O'Fagans,  a  hungry  race,  85 ;  origin  of 
the  name,  ib. 

O'Kelly,  an  Irish  poet,  435. 

Olden,  inventor  of  a  shaving  oil  called 
Eukeirogeneion,  77 ;  his  song  in  praise 
of  the  same,  in  Greek  and  English,  91. 

0*Meara,not  the  "Voice  from  St.  Helena/' 
79 ;  a  Franciscan  friar ;  pleasant  man, 
ib. ;  sings  the  praise  of  eggs,  98. 

Oriental  poetry,  decline  and  fall  of,  98. 

Ovid  quoted,  290,  343. 

Owen  Glendower  fed  on  leeks,  12. 


Pancakes  of  Greek  origin,  26. 

Pascal's  "Lettres  Provinciales/    184;  a 

hypochondriac,  186. 
Pasquinade,  a  Soman,  233.  .        ,      , 

Peter  the  Great  chops  off  the  beards  ot 

the  Kussians,  90. 
Petrarca,  his  sonnets  not  condemned  by 


the  Papal  court,  235 ;  meets  Chaucer  in 

Provence,  240;  communicates  to  him 

the  tale  of  Griselda,  ib. ;  his  exquisite 

Platonism,  324;   his  "Address  to  the 

Fountain  of  Vaucluse/'  ^5 ;  is  robbed 

by  Tom  Moore,  327 ;  a  passage  in  his 

will,  ib. ;  Prout  envies  him  his  death, 

846;  his  epitaph,  348;  his  triumph  at 

the  Capitol,  349;   he  dances  &  paa  aeul 

in  the  palazzo  Colonna,  350 ;  his  vision 

of  a  white  doe,  351 ;  his  connexion  with 

Oola  Bienzi,  352 ;  his  "  Dream,"  868 ;  his 

''Falinodia,"  369. 
Petronius  Arbiter  quoted,  77. 
Phffldrus,  157,  203,  238, 287. 
Pigs  in  Ireland,  25. 
Fiigrimages,  a  plea  for,  29. 
Pindar  quoted,  96. 
Plantagenet,  derivation  of,  49. 
Plato  quoted,  263. 
Pliny  the    Elder's  etymology  of  vtater- 

cresses,  260. 
Pliny  the  Younger  quoted,  81. 
Plutarch  quoted,  17, 114. 
PoETHT — Songs  J 

Groves  of  Blarney  (polyglot),  56. 

The  muse  shed  a  tear,  88. 

Come,  list  to  my  stave  {AngUcS  et  Cfreec^}, 
91. 

On  Linden  when  the  sun  (Angh  et  Lat.),  92. 

Believe  me,  dear  Prout,  93. 

Let  Erin  remember  (Angl.  et  Lat.),  95. 

I  sing  the  fount  of  soda,  96. 

Why  then,  sure  it  was  made  by  a  learn- 
ed owl  {Angl.  et  Lat.),  98. 

O,  Blarney  Castle,  my  darlint,  100. 

Adrian's  death-song,  112. 

Stella's    lament,    "While   round   the 
churn/'  (Gfr.  et  Ang.),  131. 

A  Chancellor's  song  {Gallic^),  132. 

Go  where  glory  (Ang.  et  Gall),  147. 

O  'twas  all  but  a  dream  (Ang.  et  Gall. , 
149. 

Lesbia  hath  a  beaming  eye  (Ang.  et 
Lat.),  150. 

Marie  Stuart  (Gall),  153. 

Through  Erin's  isle  (Ang.  et  Gall),  154. 

Wreath  the  howl  (Ang.  et  Gr.),  156. 

The  Shandon  bells,  159. 

When  at  thy  shrine,  most  holy  maid 
(Ang.  et  Lat.),  174. 

When  Brennus  came  back  here  from 
Rome  (Gall  et  Angl),  210. 

"^11  pleut,  il  pleut  enfin," — Bain  best 
doth  nourish,  &c.,  212. 

The  song  of  the  Cossack  (Angl  et  Gall). 
214. 

Le  bon  Roy  Dagobert,  217. 

Malhrouck  e'en  va-t-en  guerre,  219. 

L'^p^e  de  Damocles  — The    dinner  of 
Dionysius  (Gall  et  Angl),  221. 

My  dwelling  is  ample,  223. 

"Le pigeon mesBagef,"'-*Heleil  sat  by 
my  side,  224. 

"  Dans  la  solitaire  bourgade/'— Pray  for 
me,  227. 


676 


nn>Ex. 


PoBTBT— Songs ; 

"  Le  sable.*'— The  hour.glasB,  228. 
Meet,  me  by  moonnght  (Angl.  et  QnllX 

229. 
Good  people  all  {Angl.  et  Gall),  237. 
The  public  all  of  one  accord  (Angl.  et 

Gall),  lb. 
Froiaaart's  song  (Gall.),  239. 
"La   Naissance    du   Dauphin," — The 

Dauphin's  birthday,  241. 
Ballad  of  Griselda  (Gorman  OTid English), 

"On  parlera  de  sa  gloive," — They*ll 

talk  of  HIM  for  years  to  come,  24fi. 
"  Le  Tieiix  drapeau,"  —  The  tricolour 

flag,  251. 
Clement  Marot's  song  to  the  vanguard 

of  the  French  (GaU.  et  Angl),  253. 
"  De  la  d^pouille  de  nos  bois," — Autumn 

had  stript  the  grove,  255. 
"  II  descend  ce  cercueil "— Ere  that  cof- 
fin goes  down,  256. 
"  No6  le  patriarche,"  258. 

La  theorie  des  Eclipses," — Blindman's 

buff,  265. 
"  La  mort  de  Socrate,"— The  night  be- 
fore Larry  was  stretched,  267. 
"Leconvoide  David," — The  painter's 

funei-al,  270. 
'•  G  ^n^reux,  favoris," — If    your  bosom 

beats  high,  272. 
"  Le  violon  bris6,"— The  French  fid- 
dler's lament,  275. 
'*  Le  cblen  du  Louvre,"— The  dog  of  the 

Three  days,  277. 
The  Mistletoe,  a  type  of  the  Heaven- 
born,  279. 
"  Le,i  £toiles  qui  filent,"  —  Shepherd, 

they  say  that  a  star  presides,  281. 
"  Les  Dies," — A  panegyric  on  geese,  283. 
"  Le  Temps  et  rAmour,"~01d  Time  is 

a  pilgrim,  284. 
"  Si  je  devais  un  jour,"— If  my  mind's 

Independence  one  day  I'm  to  sell,  286. 
"  Les  Boh£miens,"  a  gypsy  song, — Sons 

of  witchcraft,  293. 
"  Le  Dieu  des  bonnes  gens," — There's  a 

God  whom  the  poet,  297. 
"  Le  greni^r,"— The  garret  of  B^ranger, 

299. 
"Le  tailleur  et  la  ft e,"— Autobiography 

of  a  poet,  301. 
"  Le  voile :  orien tale,"— "What  has  hap- 

pen'd,  my  brothers?  (Victor  Hugo), 

306. 
♦^  Monseigneur  le  due  de  Bretagne,"— 

The  bride  of  the  cymbaleer  (Victor 

Hugo),  307. 
"Ah,  le  bel  ^tatl  que  I'fetat  de  soldat  I" 

—The  French  soldier's  life,  310. 
Les  Fnnerailles  de  Beaumanoir  {Gall.), 

312. 
*  L'ange  exiW,"— Lady,  for  thee  (to  L. 

£.  L.),S13. 
Fetrarca's  odi,  — "Sweet  fountain  of 

Vaacluse/'  325-. 


PoEXBT— Songs ! 
"Non  mi  far,  O  Vulcan,**- The  w1b». 

cup  bespoken,  829. 
"  Italia  I  Italia !"— Filicia^s  song,  330. 
"Chi  6  costui,"— Statue,  whose  slant 

limbs.  332. 
"locredea,"— Tiberl  my  early  dream, 

333. 
"Per  me  si  va,"  (Dante),— Seek  ye  ye 

path,  336. 
"  0  crine,  o  crin,"- With  awe  I  look  on 

that  peruke,  339. 
"  Una  Candida  cerva,"— A  fonn  I  saw 

with  secret  awe,  351. 
"Cantiam' tutti,"— Song  on  tho  battle 

of  Lepanto,  353. 
"  O  pescator,'"- Prythee,  young  fioher- 

man,  355. 
"  La  fuga  di  Napoleone,"— When  Bo- 
naparte, overcome,  356. 
"  Son  povera  ragazza,"  a  village  song, 

358. 
"  Quel  capro  maledettn,"  —  There's  a 

goat  in  the  vineyard  1  35d. 
"  Guardacbe  biancha  luna  1"  a  serenade, 

362.  , 

"  Fluttering  spread  thy  purple  pinions," 

364. 
"II  dono  di  Venere,"  —  With  rosea 

\rreatbed  around  his  ringlets,  365i 
"  Al  crocifisso," — Michel  Angelo's  fare- 
well to  sculpture,  366. 
Petrarch's  dream, "  Quando  il  soave  mio 

iido  conforto,"  —  She  has  not  quite 

forgotten  me,  368. 
"  r  vo  piaugendo  i  miei  pasaati  tempi," 

— Bright  days  of  sunny  youth  I  3^.^ 
The  attractions  of  a  fashionable  Irish 

watering-place,  499. 
La    Zingarella  —  "Ben   vennto,    vec- 

chiarello," — Tlie   flight  into   Egypt, 

506. 
"Gives  Hymetti,"— Citizens  of  Mounts 

Hymettus,  537. 
"  Dives  Galesufl,"— As  slow  the  plough, 

539. 
"Eat   mihi   rivo   vitreus  perenni,"-r- 

There^s  a  fount,  544. 
"  Je  voyais  du  rivage,"  545. 
"Si    rogat   Cererem,"  —  The    soldier 

soothes,  553. 
Nay,  gather  not  that  filbert,  554. 
Meditations  in  a  wine-cellar,  657. 
Ode   on  the   taking  of  Calais  {Lat.et 

Angl.).  561. 
The  old  housewife's  address  to  her  gude- 

man  (Lai.  et  Angl.),  564. 
The  Red-breast  of  Aquitania,  567. 
The  legend  of  Arethuaa,  669. 
There's  a  being  bright,  671. 
Life  a  bubble  (^■.  et  Angl.),  16. 
Poetry,  the  nurse  of  freedom  in  every  age, 

352. 
Poets,  the  earliest  writers  in  every  lan- 
guage, 322. 
Potato,  the,  26. 


INDEX. 


577 


Profession,  the  Military,  in  France,  a 
song,  310. 

Front,  Father  Andrew,  his  character,  5 ; 
gallantry,  f6.;  fond  of  angling,  6 ;  his 
library,  i&. ;  death  and  burial,  7  ;  ge- 
nius, 33  ;  knowledge  of  the  world,  70; 
condemns  pot)iem,  71 ;  confessor  to  Joe 
Hayes,  72;  his  song,  95;  secret  of  his 
birth  and  parentage,  124 ;  is  kidnapped, 
ib. ;  a  lock  of  his  mother's  hair,  125 ; 
Koyal  Cork  Foundling  Hospital,  ib. ; 
escapes  from  it  in  a  churn,  129 ;  a  com- 
pound of  Sancho  Panza  and  the  Vener- 
able Bede,  167  ;  travels  through  France, 
5, 108,  204  ;  cares  not  a  fig  for ,  his  ma- 
lignere ;  attacked  by  the  "  Sun"  news- 
paper, 258;  his  frugal  life,  260;  his 
tuneful  poul,  288;  his  recollections  of 
Italy,  320;  resolTes  to  mix' his  own 
punch  for  the  future,  345 ;  hopes  to  die 
like  Petrarca,  346 ;  free  from  the  odium 
theologicum,  548 ;  his  sermon  for  Tri- 
bute Sunday,  549, 

Purgatory,  St.  Patrick's,  47;  Dr.  Lard- 
ner'B,  66. 

Q. 

Qnintilian  quoted,  229,  408. 
Quintus  Curtius  quoted,  328. 

R. 

Raleigh  ("Sir  W.)  planter  of  the  potato, 
26,82.  ■ 

Een6  d'Anjou,  le  bon  roy,  207 ;  long  re- 
membered in  Provence,  ib. 

Rhyme,  an  apology  for,  by  La  Faye,  361. 

Richard  Coeur  de  Lion,  44, 122,  207. 

Kienzi,  352. 

Roche  (Jamea,  Esq.  of  Cork),  a  friend  of 
Front,  passim. 

Rousard,  the  hour-glass  of,  228. 

Round  towers  (Irish)  of  Oriental  origin, 
52,  82 ;  described  by  Lncian,  142. 

Bymer's  Foedera,  13,  47. 


S. 

Salrator  Rosa,  couplet  from,  231. 

Salvian,  of  Marseilles,  quoted,  206. 

Sannazar,  542. 

Sarbiewski,  Casirair,  636. 

Sauce  Robert,  the  inventor  of,  16. 

Scarron  quoted,  125. 

Scott  (Sir  W.),  his  visit  to  Blarney,  137; 
Prout's  panegyric  on,  40;  kisses  the 
Blarney  stone,  64. 

Sevigne,  Madame,  said  to  be  the  au- 
thoress of  Malbrouck,  221. 

Shells  on  the  Pyrenees,  VolUire'fl  opinion 
of,  266. 

SiliuB  ItalicuB,  40,  329 

Siraonides  of  Cos,  his  Lament  of  Danae, 
translated,  131. 

Socrates,  the  death  of,  »  song,  by  Dean 
Burrowen  ^7 

Songs,  aeePueiry. 


Spartan  black  broth,  16. 

Spenser,  his  account  of  Irish  diet,  aj), 
1518.  260. 

Stael  (Madame  de),  347. 

Stars — the  shooting  stars,  a  poem  by  St- 
ranger, 281. 

Stella,  the  mother  of  Front,  124;  her  la^ 
ment  {Qr.  et  Angt),  130. 

Sterne  accused  of  deliberate  falsehood  (a 
lie  repeated  in  Grose's  "Antiquities  of 
England,"  at  "Gifihome  Abbey,  York- 
shire." J.  Boche),  348. 

Strabo  quoted,  17,  51. 

"  Sun"  newspaper,  quarrel  with,  257. 

Swift,  eulogy  of,  105 ;  his  madness  a  my- 
stery,'115;  not  occasioned  by  too  much 
learning,  116 ;  nor  by  um-pquited  love, 
117 ;  nor  loss  of  fortune,  118  _;  nor  in- 
temperance, 119;  nor  Loss  of  friends,  t&. ; 
nor  love  of  country,  120  ;  notwithstand- 
ing, his  genuine  patriotism,  ib.;  true 
cause  of  his  insanity,  123;  his  proposal 
for  eating  children,  127. 


Tacitus,  140.    De  Morib.  G&'m.,  244. 

Talleyrand,  a  schoolfellow  of  Prout,  103 ; 
gives  a  death-blow  to  the  old  Gallican 
church,  320, 

Tasso,  madness  of,  118;  begs  his  cat  to 
lend  hira  the  light  of  her  eyes  to  write 
by,  ib. ;  his  melancholy  death,  348 ;  epi- 
taph quoted,  ib. 

Templars,  tribute  to  the,  185. 

TertuUian  quoted ;  defended,  144, 

Thi6bault  (Comte  de  Champagne),  "207. 

Tiber,  ode  to  the,  by  Guidi,  333. 

Time  and  Love,  an  allegory,  by  Count 
Segur,  284 :  ode  to  Time,  by  Thomas, 
286. 

Thomas  k  Kempis,  his  Raying  on  pilgrim- 
ages, 46;  his  relish  for  salmon,  81 ;  his 
maxims,  100. 

Tolomel's  •'  Non  mi  far,  o  Vulcan,"— The 
wine-cup  bespoken,  329, 

Tricolor  flag,  song  on  the,  251. 

Troubadours,  a  queer  set,  241,  244. 

V. 

University  at  Blarney,  projected,  65. 
University,  the  London,  132. 


VaniSre,  Jacques,  555, 

Venice,  origin  of,  20;  Jesuits  expelled 
from,  184.  .  . 

Venetian  gondoliers  severe  critics,  355. 

Vert-vert,  the  pan-ot,  a  poem,  188;  hya 
originall  innocence,  ib. ;  hys  fatall  re- 
nowne,  190 ;  hys  evil  voyage,  193 ;  the 
awful  discoverie,  196. 

Victor  Hugo  praised,  158;  his  oriental 
poem,  "The   Veil,"    305;   his    ballad, 
"  The  bride  of  the  cymbaleer,"  307. 
P  P 


578 


INDEX. 


Vida,  sketcli  of  his  life,  513 ;  Ms  poem 

"  The  Silkworm,"  B23. 
Village  song,  camrmetta,  358. 
Virgil  cited,  15,  49,  53,  68,  72,  95, 117, 118, 

164, 181,  183,  216, 217,  322,  342,  344,  349, 

508,  518. 
Vittorelli,  "  Guarda  che  bianca  luna !"  a 

serenade,  363;  "Ildono  di  Venere,"— 

The  gift  of  VenuB,  365. 
Voltaire,  his  opinion  of  the  Bhells  of  the 

Pyrenees,  266 ;  Ms  occupation  at  Pots- 
dam, 442. 


W. 
Watergrasshill  aU  barren  on  the  map  at 
Derrynane,  and  why,  73 ;  why  like  the 
mountain  of  Gilboa?  71 ;  the  Arcadia 
of  Crofton  Croker,  5.     - 


Wetherell,  Sir  C,  letter  fi»m,  ahontKing 

Dagobert,  233. 
Whalley,  Jerusalem,  65. 
Wig  of  Roger  Boscovich,  "  Alia  perrucca," 

De  ficta  coma,  &c.  339. 
"Wine  debtor  to  water,  212. 
Woods,  Wm.,  his  base-currency  scheme, 

121 ;  a  kidnapper,  124,  135. 


Yarmouth  herrings,  13. 

Yorke,  Oliver,  editor  of  the  Reliques, 

passim. 


Z. 

Zisca,  his  skin  made  into  a  drum,  288. 


THl?    EKD 


LONDON :    PBTNTED  BT  WUJJAM  CLOWES  AND  SONS,  STAUFOBD  STBttlOk 
AND  CHAOmo  CSOSS. 


Cornell  University  Library 
PR  4972.M33  1866 


The  reliques  of  Father  Prout 


3  1924  013  520  998