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ffirrt planting of the Totatoe iuTrfroi- 



C{)e Eeltquts 


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



(eet. feancis mahont.) 



(d. MACtlSE, E.A.) 


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






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



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 


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- 


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 — 

" 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. 


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, Ain a. 
worth, Coleridge, Hogg, Q-alt, Dunlop, and Jerdan. Eraser 
is croupier, having on his right Crofton Croker, Lockhart, 


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 

Paeis, Nov. 20, 1859. 


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 




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

m. AN APOLOGY TOR LENT ..... Page 9 1^ 




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

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


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








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


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



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 


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 


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 


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 

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 


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 


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 


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, 

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


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- 

" 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 


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 


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. 


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 

' 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 


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 ; 


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. 


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 


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. 



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- 

" 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. 


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. 



" 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 


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 


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.' 


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- 


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 


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, 


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 


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 


are many terms which answer the description of Horace, 

' 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. 


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. 


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. 




No. II. 


" 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." 


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 


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 


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 

" 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. 


FurnivaVs Tnn, April 14. 
AcKNOWLEDGiwa the receipt of your gracious mandate, 
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 


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- 


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 


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 


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 


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 


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- 


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. 


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 !" 


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 


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. 


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. 


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 


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


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." 


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. 


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. 


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, 


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 

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 

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 ! 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, 


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 


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 .'" 


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 ? 


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. 


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


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 ?" 


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, 



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- 

"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 !" 


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. 


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. 

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 ? 


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. 


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


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


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 


the origin of this wondrous talisman is of the remotest 

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. 


I confess you have thrown a new and unexpected light on 

E 2 


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. 


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^ !" 


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



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- 


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


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. 


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. 


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 

- 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 



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 

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 



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


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. 

'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. 


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. 



'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, 


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. 

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 \ 





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. 



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 



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. 


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 


Q XtBivov aveoc ye ! 


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. 



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 


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. 

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. 

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, 



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. 


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, 

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. 


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. 


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


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. 


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 


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 

" 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." 


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 ! ^ 


"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 


Regent Street, \st June, 1835. 

Fumival't Inn, May 14. 

Accept, 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 


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.;; 


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, 

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 


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 


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 

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- 


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, 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 


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." 


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 


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 

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 


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. 


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. 


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 


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, 


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. 


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." 


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. 


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


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." 


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


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 


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 


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. 


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 ? 


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. 



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," 


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. 


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 


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. 


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. 


Christopher Columbus was equally ill-treated : and nfii- 


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. 


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. 


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. 


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.'] 


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 


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. 


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. 


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 


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 ! 


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. 


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 ! / .'" 

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


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, 


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 


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." 


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. 


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 !" 

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 



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 !" 
Pray, Sir Walter, are you any relation of our great irre- 
fragable doctor, Duns Scotus P He was an ornament of the 
rranciscan order. 


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 !" 

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. 


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 


"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. 


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


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 — " 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. 



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


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. 


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


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 ? 

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


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. 



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


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 ? 


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. 


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. 


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


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. 



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 

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 

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. 


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 
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 




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, 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 

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 

Sol ruit coelo minuitqne lumen, 
Nix super terris jaoet usque 

"Eti tenebrosii fluit Iser und^ 
PlebEe flumen ! 

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

Bura malignis. 

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

Ire furentes. 

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

Mugit, et rubra tonitru videtur 
Arce reveUi ! 

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


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


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, 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 


'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. 



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 


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, 


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. 


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. 


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. 


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." 


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


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


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



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. 

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 
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 
Sweet girl ! 
In truth, as in Latin, her name is b 

When she gets 
Me a platter of nice omelettes. 


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 ! 


{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? 


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. 


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. 




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." 
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, && 


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 


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- 

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

No. IV. 


" 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 !" 


"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 

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


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.'' 

■ 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, 
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 


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 


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 

" 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." 


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. 


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 


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 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.— 


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 


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 .'" 


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 !" 


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 


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 


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 


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- 

" 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 

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- 

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 


"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 

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 




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- 

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 : 


" 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 

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 

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 

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- 


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 

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 


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 

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 


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. 


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. 


ifftom t^t 3Prout iSaperS. 

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


" 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. 


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" 




^ ^ ^. 

^ . cA. a ii. ^^ 4__ 


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 !" 


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 


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. 


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, 


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 


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 


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 


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 


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. 


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 


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 — 



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 


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. 


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- 

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. 



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 



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; 


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 



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- 



planted it entire into his " National Melodies ;" but is very 
careful not to give the nation or writer whence he translated 

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 
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- 
Amitie, soeur de I'amour trom- 
peur ! 
De I'amour la coupe encore en- 
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 
But e'en in a dream to be blest 
Is so sweet, that I ask for no 
The bosom that opes 
With earliest hopes 
The soonest finds those hopes un- 
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- 
And love, even love, too soon is 
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 



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 
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 ! 




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 
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" 


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, 


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- 



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- 
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- 

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" 

* Alia lectio : parlout leur main recueille. 



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 

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 



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 : 


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 


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, 



■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." 


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. 


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- . 

" 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 : 

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 


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 



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 : 


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 


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 

" 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. 


" 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." 


The massacre this montli by a brutal populace in Madrid 
of fourteen Jesuits, in the haU of their college of 8fc. 


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." 


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 


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 : 


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 

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." 

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 


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 


" 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 


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 

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 


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 !" 


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 

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" 


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 



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- 

Defunota beUo," dixit, " arma 

Degener aut timidus perire 

Miles resigno. Me nova buo- 

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- 
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. 


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- 

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 

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 


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 

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 


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 


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 

" 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. 


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 


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. 


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) ! 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- 


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 

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 

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. 


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 

" Qvue regio in terris nostri non plena laboris ?" — Mneid. I. 
And, alas ! must I add, who has not heard of the cuffs and 


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. 


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 

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, 


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. 


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. 


'Ftrt^'Fert, tj&i 39arrnt. 


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." 


, 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." 


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, 


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 ? 


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.'* 


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." 


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." 



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 

t " Bient6t il seut jurer et mougreer 

Mieuz qu'un vieus diable au fond d'un b^nitie£ " 

o 2 


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 ?" 


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. 


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" 



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." 


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^, 


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. 



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 


whose commissioners Phsedrus has long ago given the pro- 
totype : 

" Est ardelionum qusedam Homee natio 
" Trepidfe ooncursans, occupata in otio, 
Gratis anhelaus, multtiin agendo, n ihil 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 
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 


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 ! 

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 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." 


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, 


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 



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 


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, 


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.,,, \ 



Un jour, par ce raisin Tenneil 

Dea peuples vous serez I'enTie j 
Dans son nectar plein des feus du 
Tons les arts pniseront la vie. 

Quittaut nos bords faToris&, 
Mille vaisseaux iront sur I'onde 
Oharg& de vins et de fleurs pa- 

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 
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 
Dans i'aveuir ont vu "La 





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 : 


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 !" 


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. 


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 

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 

Aye shalt thou lave, within that wave, thy blood-red flanks again. 
Then fiercely neigh, my gallant grey ! — thy chest is strong and 

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 

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 

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 


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 

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 


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. 



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 : 


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. 


Malbrouot, the prince of com- 
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. 



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- 
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. 

Such, 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 


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 

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 

* Dr. L. had then a bill before the lords for divorce from his first 
wife, Cecilia Flood, niece of the celebrated Ii'ish orator. 


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." 


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^ 


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 



H est tombe, las d'vm trop-long 
voyage ; 
Bendons-lui vite et force et li- 
D'un traffiquant remplit-il le mes- 
Va-t-il d'amour parler k la 
beauts ? 
Peut-^tre il porte au nid qui le 
Les derniera voeux d'm&rtun& 
proscrits — 
Bois dans ma coupe, O' messager 
fidele ! 
Et dors en paix sur le sein de 

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- 
" Athhie est libre !" Amis, quelle 
nouTelle ! 
Que de lauriers tout-^coup re- 
fleuris — 
Bois dans ma coupe, O messager 
Et dors en pais sur le sein de 

Athene est libre ! Ah ! buTOns>& la 
Grfeoe ! 
Nseris, Toiei de nouveaiir.demi- 
L'Europe en vain, tremblante de 
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 

Thou art tired — rest awhile, and 
Thou shalt soar, with new energy 
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- 
And sleep on the bosom of 

Ha ! these lines are from Greece ! 
Well I knew 
The loved idiom ! Be mine the 
Son of France, I'machild of Greece 
And a kinsman will brook no 
refusal. , 

" Greece is free!" all the gods have 
To fill up our joy's brimming 
measure — 
O drink of my cup, carrier bird ! 
And sleep on the bosom of Plea- 

Greece is free ! Let us drink to that 
To our elders in fame ! Did ye 
Thus to struggle alone, glorious 
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 




Atliine est litre ! O, muse des Pin- 
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 
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- 
Bepose-toi ; puis Tole ^ tea 
amours ! 
Vole, et bient&t, reporte dans 
Eeviens brarer et tyrans et vau- 
A tant des rois dont le trdne chan- 
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 
Nor permit him henceforth to 
desert you — 
O drink of my cup, winged guest ! 
And sleep on the bosom of 

But no, he muat hie to his home. 
To the neat where his bride is 
awaiting ; 
Soon again to oiu^ climate he'll 
The young glories of Athens re- 
The baaeneaa of kiflgs to reprove, 
To blush our vile rulers com- 
pelling ! — 
Then drink of my goblet, dove! 
And sleep on the breast of my 



^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 
But hope comes not, nor heal- 
ing balm. 
Eind yillagers ! Q-od bless your 
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- 
In the sad close of autumn drear. 
Say, " The sick youth is freed from 
The pangs and wo he suffered 
Somay ye speak of liim that's gone; 
But when your belfry toUs my 
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 


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!" 


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 


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- 

* In King James I.'s reign a Latin play, enacted at Westminster 
Sfthool, has in the prologue, "Iji* habeas /rencham qu& possis Tincere 



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 
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 

Pour les coeui's saus amour le jour 
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 
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 
Then meet me by moonlight 

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. 


No. VIII. 



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 


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« 


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 


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. 


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 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 

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 


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. 



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 : 


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. 


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 

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." 


"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 


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." 


"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 

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 ! 



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. 


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 


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 




Eseoutez icy jouyencelles, 

Ecoutez aussy damoiseauz, 
Vault mieux estre bone que belle, 

Vault mieux estre loyal que 
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 

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- 

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 ?" 


A Romaunt. 

List to my baUad, for 'twaa made ei- 
Damsels, for you ; 
Better to be (beyond all lovelinesse) 

LoyaU and true ! 
Padeth fair face, bright beauty blooms 
Soon to departe ; 
Goodness abydeth aye ; and gentle 
Gtiineth y" heaite. 

There lived a maiden, beautifuU but 
GHeaning y" fields ; 
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 
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 
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 !" 



" 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 

" I too prize honour above, high de- 
And all beside ; 
Maiden, be mine ! yea, if thou wilt 
■ Be thou my bride ! 
Swear but to do y' bidding of thy 
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' 
His castel towers ; 
And there that maiden lived with 
that good knight 
In marriage bowers, 
Diffusing blessings among all who 
Within that vale : 
Q-oodnesB abydeth aye — her smile is 
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 ! 


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. 



Devant le host allout cantant 
De £arleiiiain e de BoUaut, 

Pranced in the ran and led the tiraiTi, 
With songs of Koland and Charle- 

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. 


On parlera de sa gloire 
Sous le ohaume bien long- 
temps ; 
L'humble toit, dans cinqnante 
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 

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 
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 ! then this really occurredi 
And yo I his voice could hear I 



"L'an d'apr^s, moi pauyre 
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- 
Put en proie aux etrangera, 
Lui, bravant toua les dangera, 
Semblait aeul tenir la campagne, 
Un aoir, tout conune aujourd- 

J'entends frapper a la porte ; 
J'ouvre, bon Dieu! o'etait 

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 

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 

Who gazed upon that sight so splen- 
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 

Burst' o'er the IFrench frontier at 
'Twill scarcely be believed 
What wonders, single-handed, he 
Such general ne'er lived ! 
One evening on my threshold stood 
A guest — 'twas he ! Of warriors 

He had a toil-worn retinue. 
He flimg himself into this chair of 
Muttering, meantime, with fearAil 

'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 
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 !' 



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 
With pride that same wme-cup ; 
And for its weight in gold 
It never shall be sold !" — 
Mother ! on that proud reUo let us 
O keep that cup always I 

" But, through some fatal witchery, 
He, whom A Pope had crowned and 
Perished, my sons ! by foulest treach- 
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 


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 
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 



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. 


{A proseculed Song.) 

De mes vievii oompaguons de 
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 
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- 
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 
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 
" 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 ! 



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- 
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- 
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 
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 
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. 


^BUrtStf to fijt 'Fanguatlf of ti)e jFwnfS 

Under the Duke d'Alenfon, 1521. 

Soldiers ! at length their gathered strength our might is doomed to 

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 

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. 



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 
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- 

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 

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 
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 

The spot where I'll be laid to- 


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 

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. 


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 ! 


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. 



•fftom t^e 33fout J^aptis. 

"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- 

Beeoee we plunge with Prout into the depths of Prench 
Philosophy, we must pluck a crow with the " Sun." Not 


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- 

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- 


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. 


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. 


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." 


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, 


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. 


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 


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 


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. 


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. 



■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 
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 
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 
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- 
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« 
Et saurai montrer du courage I" 



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 

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- 
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 
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 ! 
! is that, by the Holy, the rason ? 
Soon I'U give you to know, you d — d 
That you're cracking your jokes out 
of eason. 
And scuttle your nob with my 

L'on demande les cartes. Au jeu 
Laurent voit un larron qui 
triche ; 
D'honneur tout rempli, U prend 
Et d un bon coup de poign 
" Ha, coquin ! de mon dernier 
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- 

Then in came the priest with his book. 

He spoke him so smooth and so 


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 

Quand nous e<imes cess^ nos 
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 


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 ! 


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! 
And sent him to take a ground- 

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 


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" 


" 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. 


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. 



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. 


"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 


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. 



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 
Pass by the Louvre-gate, 
Where buried lie the "men of 

JtTLT !" 
And flowers are flung by the 
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 



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- 

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 

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 

Un peu de pain pour son ami ! 

That are hung in this place of 

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 
And the dog howls desolate. 


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 

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. 




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 

O'er the waste of waters wUd, 
That the symbol told of the cradle 

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. 


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 

His forehead radiant grew ; 
For iuWisdom's womb of the Word 
to come, 

The vision blest his view. 
He broached that theme in the 

In the teachfiil olive grove ; 
And a chosen few that secret knew 

In the Porch's dim alcove. 


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 
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. 


A Druid stood iu the dark oak wood 

Of a distant northern land j 
And he seemed to hold a sickle of 
In, the grasp of his withered 
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 
Unloosened his golden blade, 
Then rose and culled the Mistle- 
Under the woodland shade. 


O, blessed bough! meet emblem 

Of all dark Egypt knew. 
Of all foretold to the wise of old, 

To Eoman, Greek, and Jew. , 
And long God grant, time-honoliecl 

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 

The solemn Christmas tide. 

Sucli was the. imaginative tteory of tlie great scholastic 
with reference to symbolism and the mistletoe. The dust 


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- 
Xhat falls, falls, and is quenched 


" 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- 
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- 
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 
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. 



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 
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 

" 'Tis a monarch's star ! Do thou pre- 

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 



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 

Fair Strasburg babes. Pray who's the 

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. 


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, 

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 


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. 


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. 



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 


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, 


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 


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- 



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." 


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. 


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 


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 

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 



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 


Scarciers, tateleurs, ou filoux ! 

Beste immonde 

D'un anoien moude ) 

Sorciers, bateleurs, ou ffloux ! 

Gais Boh^miens ! d'ou venez- 


D'oil nous venons ? L'on n'eu 
sgait rien. 
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- 
The wild bird's flight. 
Speeding from winter's rude approach : 
Such home is ours. Who dare en- 
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. 



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 

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, 


De mince ^toffe — 

Ton ceil ne peut se dftacher 

Du vieux ooq de ton vieux 


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- 
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. 


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. 


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 


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." 


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 


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" 



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. 


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 

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 ! 


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 


" 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. 


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," 


it cannot be naturalized in these islands, and must still con- 
tinue to form the exclusive boast and pride of a happier 

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'- 

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 


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. 


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 ? 


N'avez-vous pas lev& votre voile aujourd'- Le soleil fitait rouge k son coucher ce soirl 


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. 


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. 


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 ! 



O-ulnara, make answer ! Hast thou, since the dawn. 
To the eye of a stranger thy veil -witbdraTm ? 


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. 

Ghilnara, make answer ! Whom, then, hast thou seen. 
In a turban of white, and a caftan of green ? 

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. 

Ghilnara ! tiiis evening when sank the red sun, 
Hast thou marked how like blood in descending it shone f 


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 ! — 

Qulnara, farewell ! take that veil ; 'tis the gift 
Of thy brothers — a veil thou wilt never lift ! 



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- 
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- 

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' 


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- 
r!es tim bales 6tincelantes 
Qui, sous sa main toujours trem- 
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 
My cymbaleer's return : 
GHadness and pride beam in my 

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 

The martial triumph pass in state, 
And the duke and my cymbaleer. 

We'll see fiiom the rampart-walls of 
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 
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 
Embroider' d by his Jbride. 
Admire his burnish'd helmet's 

O'ershadow'd by the dark horse- 
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), 



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- 
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, 
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 

And silk-robed barons lead the 
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- 

Foremost to stand in battle's van. 
Against the foes of France. 

Kext comes the duke with radiant 
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- 

Their ranks — then pale, aghast, 
Sunk in the crowd ! Death came 

in aid — 
'Twas mercy to that gentle maid ; 
The cymbaleers had pass'd!" 



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 


Yainquers, entrons-nous dans une 
Les autorit^s et les habitans 
Nous viennent, d'uue fa90U fort 
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 

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 
Merely to recognize our vast supe- 
The married citizens, 'tis ten to 

Woiild wish US fairly gone ; 
But we stay while it suit^ our good 
Then each eve, at the rising of the 

The fiddler strikes up a merry tune, 
We meet a buiom partnerf uJlBOon, 
And we foot it to a military measure. 
[Chorus ofdruim. 



Mais c'est quand nous quittons la 
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 
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- 

Puis, a notre retour en France, 
Chaque village, en goguette, en 
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 
Wlio can adequately tell 
The regret of the fair all the city 
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 
In the country make a halt, 
Think not that we limit our provi- 
To Paddy's fare, "potatoes and 

Could such beggarly cheer 
Ever answer a French grenadier ? 
Ifo ! we send a dragoon guard 
To each neighbouring farm- 
To collect the choicest pioMngs — 
Turkeys, sucking-pigs, and chick- 
For why should mere rustic rapscal- 
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 
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 ! 


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. 


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 

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. 


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. 


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. 


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 


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 


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 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." 


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 


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. 


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 

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. 


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- 

' " 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 : 

" 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- 


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 


" 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. 



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 
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 
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 

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 
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 ! 



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- 
E faocia forz» al cielo, 
Asciugsndosi gli occhi col bel 

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- 

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 

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 
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 
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 
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, 


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 

"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, 


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. , 



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. 


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 . 


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. 


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 

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 


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. 


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 

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. 



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, 

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 
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 

Fast in thy bed is sunk 
The mountain pine-tree's broken 
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 

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 ! 



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 

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 

For so much glory lent, 
Ever destructive of some monu- 
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 


l,a 33orta Bel Jnferno. 

Dante, Cant. III. 


Feb me si va iraLi' etebno doioee, 
Pee me si ta tea ia peedtjta gente. 

^P ^ rtp "SP 


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. 


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. 


"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^ 

(&nei3t! let all l^ope on tl^ts tI)rtsi)olIi sto]]! ^cre reigns llespait 


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 



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. 


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 ! 



®ae to ti)e OTt's of dFati)tr ^oitobic^, 


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 


Ctesaries ! yanum vesani nuper amoris 
Forsitan illicium, ciu:aque fceminea, 


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 ! 


No. XII. 



" 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 

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 

'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 


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." 


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 


Apollo. Turn we now to Prout and his gleanings in the 
fertile field of his selection, " Hesperia in magna." 

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-, 


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 


UiM: IMI,, ;\,iN !I; 

."5 f:'llE,ST'E,0, 


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 


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 — 



• The Eev. Lawrence Sterne, in his very reputable work called 


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. 


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- 


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. 


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 ; 

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. 


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 

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 



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 



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: — 


"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 
Lady, that you can give !" 
The ring was found beneath the 
Nor need my lay record 
What was that lady's gratitude, 
What was that youth's reward. 
A \2 

Oh pescator dell' onda, 

Vieni pescar in qui 
CoUa beUa sua barca. 
CoUa bella se ne va, 

Fidelin, hn, Ih. 
Che cosa vuol ch' io peschi ? 

L'anel ohe m' e casca, 
Colla bella sua barca. 
Colla bella se ne va, &c. 

Ti dar6 cento scudi, 

Sta borsa ricama, 
Colla bella sua barca. 
CoUa bella se ne va, &c. 
Won vogHo cento scudi, 

Ne borsa ricama, 
Colla beUa sua barca. 
CoUa bella se ne va, &c. 
Io vo un basin d' amore, 

Che quel mi paghera, 
CoUa bella sua bocca. 
CoUa bella se ne va, &c. 



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 

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 ! 



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 

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 


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 ? 


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. 


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. 


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 


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 


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 


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- 


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 ? 


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 

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 



{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. 


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 


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, 


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 


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 : 


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 





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. 


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- 


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- 


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— 


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. 


" 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, 



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- 


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 


■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 


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, 


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 


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 



And comfort give her, 
Keciless though JOTE should inter- 
Uxorious river ! 

Our sons will ask, why men of Rome 
Drew against kindred, friends, and 

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 

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- 

Oh, quell the storm ! 
Come, though a silver vapour veil 

Thy radiant form I 

Will Venus from Mount Eetx 

And to our succour hie, with troop 
Of laughing &EACES, and a group 
Of Cupids round her ? * 

Or comest thott with wild war- 

Dread Maes! ourPOUOTJEB? 

Whose voice so long bade peace 

avaunt j 
Wliose war-dogs stfll for slaughter 

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 

The graceful guise and form put on 
Of thee, ATiatfSTiJS ? and begun 

(Celestial stranger !) 
To wear the name which THOtr hast 

won — 


Blest be the days of thy sojourn, 
Distant the hour when BoME shall 

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, 


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. 

" 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 ! — 


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 ; 




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. 
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 

Qu& calet juventus 
Nunc omnis, et tunc 

Magis iucalebit. 


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. 

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, 

c 2 


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 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 

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 ; 



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 
Hath not Apollo 

A new-found Salamit decreecl, 
Old Fatherland shall supersede P 

Then fearless follow. 
Ye who could bear ten years your 
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, 
Cur properas amando, 
Perdere ? cur apricum 
Oderit campum, 
Purveria atque Solis ? 

Our neque militaris 
Inter sequales 
Equitat p 
Gkllica nee lupatis 
Temperat ora frjenis ? 
Cur timet flavum 
Tangere ? cur olivum. 

Sanguine viperino 
Cautius vitat ? 
Neque jam 
Livida jestat armii 



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 
NobiUs expedito ? 

Quid latet, ut marinse 
Filium dicunt 
Sub lachrymosa Trojso 
Punera, ne virilis 
Cultus in csedem, et 
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. 


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. 


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. 


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, ! 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. 


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, ! 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 ! 



" 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, 


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, 


" 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 

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 


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 


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 .'" 


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- 


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 


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- 


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- 


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 


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. 

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. 


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 



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- 
To learn your horoscope. 
Or mine, from vile adepts in fraud and treach- 

My Leuconoe ! shun 
Those sons of Babylon. 

Tu ne qusesierifl, 

Scire nefas, 
Quem mihi, queni tibi, 
Finem Di dederint, 

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 

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- 

Folly may treasure up ; 
Ours be the day that passeth — unsolicitous 

Of what the next may bring. 

Time flieth as we sing ! 


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. 


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. 


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 

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. 


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 




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 ? 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- 


"Lochiel! Lochiel! beware of the day 
When the Lowlands shall meet thee in battle-array." 


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 



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. 


Slest with a charming mother, yet, 
Thou Btill more fascinatiag daugh- 
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 

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 
Thundering rush down to the en- 

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 
And many a lofty city's trace 
Caused a proud foeman to efface, 
Ploughing the site with hostile 

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 

Irse Thyesten esdtio gravi 
Stravere, et altis 
Urbibus ultimte 
Stetere causae cur perirent 
Funditus, imprimeretque mu- 



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- 

Lady ! I swear — my recreant lays 

Henceforth to rectify and alter — 
To change my tones from blame to 

Should your rekindling friendship 
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- 

Ode. XVII. — an invitation to hoeace's tiila. 


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. 



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- 

Suspecta Cyrum 
Ne male dispari 
Injiciat manus, 
Et soindat hsorentem coronam. 
Crinibus, immeritamque vet- 


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 


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, 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 



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 

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. 

" 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 ; 


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. 


"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 


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. 


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. 


* 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 

£ 2 


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. 


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, 


^ 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. 


Love's imrelentiug Queen, Mater sseva Cupidinum 

With Bacchiis — Theban maid ! thy wayward Thebauseque jubec 



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- 

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 
Parthum dieere ; neo 
Quae nihil attinent. 

Hie vivum mihi cespi- 
tem, hie 

Verbenas, pueri 

Ponite, thuraque, 
Bimi cum patera men : 

Mactata veniet 

Lenior hostia. 


Ode XX. — " POT-LrcK" with hoeace. 


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, 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). 


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. 


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 



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. 


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 

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. 



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- 

Jupiter urget j 

Pone sub curru nimium propin- 

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- 

Disporting gush — 
With sudden fright behold her start, 
With trembling knees and throbbing 

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, 


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. 



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 



" 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 

Ode XXV. 

Podov AvaKpeovTOe. 



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 

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, 


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 


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, 


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 


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. 



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- 
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. 



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 



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." 


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." 


" 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." 

" Plutonis caverua 

Parebat viventi, 
Siquando tabema 

Seerat sitienti." 




" 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 : 


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, 


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 


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. 


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 

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. 


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. 


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 

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. 


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 

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 


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. 


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- 


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 


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 

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 



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 
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." 


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. 



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." 


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 
Segetes feracis, 

Non eestnosse 
Grata Calabrise 
Armenta, non aurum 
Aut ebur Indicum, 
Non rura, quse 
Lirispuerum 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 ! 

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. 


'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 ! — 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 : 



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. : 



Ode XXXIV.— the poet's conteesiob-. 


Parous Deorum 
Cultor et infrequena,